Disclaimer: Anything you do not recognise is mine, anything you do is hers. So what's mine is not hers and vice versa. Oakies?
Snow
Hermione sighed with relief, as the common room finally emptied itself of the giggling gangs of girls that were excited by snow. Mind you, Hermione mused to herself, the boys aren't much better. Smiling quietly, she uncurled from the chair, and crossed to the window to watch the students frolic in the snow.
She could pick out Ron and Ginny straight away – not because of the hair, but because of the lime green hats Molly had decided to knit this year. Apparently, she'd got bored of jumpers, and borrowed a knitting pattern off Luna's aunt, that showed her how to make hats. A grin spread across Hermione's face as she recalled the first attempt of a 'hat'. It was better than hers, though, so she shouldn't complain. Her hat was tucked safely away in the bottom of her trunk, with Hermione resolving not to wear it – ever.
Leaning against the window, with her arms crossed to protect her from the cold, she chuckled quietly as she saw Harry's bewildered face when Ginny threw snow down his back. She continued to watch them, as they disregarded the snowball fight and began to build snowmen. They boys soon got tired and began making snow angels, whilst the girls went off to skate on the lake. As she watched Ginny give Harry a light peck on the cheek, she turned away from the window, and wandered morosely over to the hearth.
It wasn't that she was attracted to Harry, or felt jealous of Ginny, she just felt left out. Everyone had someone, Ginny and Harry, Ron and Lavender, even Neville and Luna! She had no-one, no-one that she could be seen with anyway. Her thoughts turned to their solid relationship, lasting over a year and a half. Smiling, she shook her head, and went back to researching Hellebore.
Quite some time later, Hermione was disturbed from her work upon hearing a cacophony of raucous voices carrying up the corridor. Rolling her eyes at their frivolity, she quickly gathered up her things that had somehow become strewn haphazardly across the floor, and piled them onto the main table next the cosy chair by the fire. Settling herself in the chair, she mentally counted down the seconds until they arrived.
5……..4……..3……2……..1 -BANG!-
The portrait door slammed open, and in tumbled Harry, Ron, Neville and the rest of the Gryffindor boys. Hermione's boys were 'hi-five'ing each other, and from what Hermione overheard, had won the snowball fight – all twelve rounds.
Cheering like drunkards, they staggered all the way over to Hermione, leaving a trail of muddied snow that was steadily melting into a goo. When they'd settled themselves down, they began to re-tell all of their adventures, hi-jinks and glory hogging. Neither of them cared that Hermione wasn't interested, but she dutifully cleaned them up, and made sure they didn't die of pneumonia.
The girls arrived about two hours after the lads, just when it was getting dark. They all swept past Hermione without even tossing her a glance, except for Ginny, who smiled before rushing off to talk with the girls. Barely smothering a giggle, Hermione transfigured her clothes, and crept outside. She was going to meet up with him, but didn't know what he had planned for this evening. Stealthily, she crept downstairs and into the entrance hall.
There he was, with a thick travelling cloak on, and a frown etched into his features as he contemplated the surrounding area. Upon spotting her, he smiled and offered her his arm, as they walked outside. Ten minutes of delightful conversation passed before Hermione realised he was leading her to where all her friends had been playing earlier. A jolt of something flashed through her stomach, before she brushed it aside, and grinned at her companion.
They had a massive snowball fight, which ended up with her losing, but only because he resorted to magic. As they lay down in the snow to stargaze, she couldn't help but feel safe, comfortable, and loved.
This, she decided, was why she loved snow.
A/N: Just popped into my head, and it had to be written. Any guesses as to who the mystery man may be? (No the answer isn't going to be Severs just because I prefer him).
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