Disclaimer: This is a transformative work using intellectual property and characters belonging but not limited to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera. No money is being made from this work.
He's standing under the dim porch light. His hands are shoved in the pockets of his long coat. There's snow fluttering about.
Winter is cold, she muses silently. She stares at the man standing on her back porch. He's staring at her too. His coat is covered in a thin layer of snow.
She cracks first, of course. There was little doubt in her mind that the man in front of her could stay silent for days if he wanted to. She had no intention to be around him that long.
"What are you doing here, Nott?"
He shrugs and walks a few steps closer. There is a ghost of a smile on his lips. "To see you. What else would it be?"
She bristles slightly. Her frown relaxes, but her arms remain crossed against her chest. "Today's Christmas Eve. You should be spending it with friends or family."
The smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "Shouldn't you be letting me in then, Hermione?"
She refuses to step away from the entrance to her flat. "You shouldn't be here."
"And why is that?" She could sense the tiredness in his tone as well as a bit of anger. "Can't you just…let me in?"
She doesn't speak. The silence is telling.
He sighs and runs a hand over his hair. "If you wanted honesty, you shouldn't have looked at me like that."
He steps away. "Have a good Christmas, Hermione."
It's not until he Apparates and Ron and Harry come through the fireplace, shouting at her to see the gift they've bought for her that she realizes how numb her hands have grown.