Severus stepped into the living area and smiled. His husband was curled up on the couch, watching the snow fall.
Severus had learned, the hard way, that Harry loved the snow.
The first time they'd gone out on a date (which Severus would never have admitted was a date – rather, a dinner between colleagues and friends), Harry had insisted they walk to the restaurant in Hogsmeade, and it had started snowing on the way there. Accustomed to the cold, but not liking it, Severus had been less than thrilled, and the date had not gone particularly well, especially since he had embarrassed himself on the way back by slipping and falling on his arse.
Over the next few years, however, Severus would grow to like the snow. Harry (unintentionally, of course) made sure of that.
Their fifth date had consisted of snow as well, but they had simply walked along the grounds and watched the play of life under the surface of the frozen lake, Harry mindful not to mention their first snow outing. They'd celebrated their mutual lack of injury by curling up in front of the fire in Harry's quarters – which had soon become their quarters.
After that day, most of Harry and Severus' winter dates had consisted of walks in the snow, and on the three-year anniversary of that first disastrous date, they'd taken yet another walk.
When they reached the lake, Harry stopped and turned to Severus, dropping to one knee.
For a moment, Severus (though he would never admit it) was worried, thinking Harry had fallen, but then Harry took his hand.
"Severus… these past three years have been the best of my life. If someone had told me five years ago that in the future I would have wanted to spend time with you, I would have thought them insane – but now I see how much things can change with time, and with love. I love you Severus, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side – with you as my one and only love. Will you marry me, Severus?"
And he had said yes, because he loved Harry and Harry loved him, and this was a happiness he could not have even dreamed of feeling before.
They had gotten married by the frozen lake, in the snow, with only a few close friends in attendance. They had taken up residence in Harry's quarters, and still took their snow walks every winter.
"Severus?"
He snapped out of his reverie and looked at his husband, who glanced out at the blizzard-like weather. It didn't look like it was going to let up any time soon, and Severus suppressed a shiver just looking at it.
"Would you like to go for a walk?"
"I would love to, Harry, but first…"
He sauntered over to Harry, making a show of it so Harry would grin and giggle at him.
He leaned down to whisper into his husband's ear, the silky tones washing over Harry's body like a warm blanket, "I can think of a particularly… pleasurable… way to warm up."
And little did they know, as they made their way to the bedroom, that they were starting another snow-related tradition.