A/N : I don't own anything Harry Potter, excet this story.

I don't know where it's going, but I'm definetly going to try and finish it, unlike some of my other stories, haha. Leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks!

A quiet calm had settled over the Gryffindor Commonroom as all of the students who attended early morning classes filed out of the passageway. Snow had settled on the Hogwarts grounds, a clean blanket that signified that winter had finally begun. It was only a matter of time before the student population departed for winter holidays. Oliver Wood, Quidditch extraordinare, sat in a comfortable chair, enjoying the few moments of complete silence he could get out of each day. Oliver was always busy, whether it was his constant Quidditch practices or his rigorous courses he was enrolled in. Oliver cast a sidelong glance out the window of the dark room, sighing as the sound of footsteps rang from above. Another quiet moment had come to an end. The resonating sound of footsteps against wood became louder as two second-years - The famous Harry Potter and his best friend Ron Weasley - pounded down the steps.

"They're like.. the Hitler Youth, if I dare go that fare. They really are," said Ron. Oliver turned to face the boys, curious.

"The Slytherins," Harry explained. "The way they behaved after the Quidditch match not too long ago still fires Ron up." Harry clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Nice to know we've got a loyal fan," Oliver said, smiling at Ron. "All set to go home?"

"I suppose," Ron said. "I miss the old asylum."

"Very well," Oliver replied, nodding at Ron. "What about you, Harry? Big holiday plans?"

"Nah, staying here." Harry tilted his eyes toward the floor.

"We'll see about that," Ron said, elbowing Harry in the ribs. "You can come stay with my mental family, yeah?"

Harry grimaced jokingly, and Ron pretended to be offended. Oliver noticed there was a certain bond between them, that they were best friends. He felt a pang somehwere inside his chest, a longing for a relationship with someone, anyone, like Harry and Ron had. Sure, he had friends, but Oliver didn't have the time to create such a bond with another person.

"Well, old chap, it's about that time," Ron said, patting Harry on the back.

"Yeah, we've got to get going," Harry agreed. Oliver nodded, a "see-you-later" gesture he and Harry had established on their first day of Quidditch together. Ron gave Oliver a small wave before the boys dashed out.

"What have I got to do?" Oliver pondered aloud. He briefly surveyed the room before grabbing his scarf and coat, putting them on in that order. He glanced around for a moment, sighing before exiting the Commonroom, not wanting to be around the others when they finally woke. For an infinite amount of time he wandered around on the moving staircases, glancing at all of the paintings who knew him, but he didn't know them. Finally, he ended up in front of the gates leading outside. All was quiet, the snow casting an almost eerie calm outside. Pulling his scarf closer to his ears, he stepped outside. It seemed like the snow hadn't been previously disturbed. It lay across the long-dead grass, pure and white. Winter wonderland. He made a few tentative steps on to the cold ground, much like an animal who has very clumsily began to walk. Further out in to the still winter morning, he noticed a figure in a very smilar black coat. Not exactly the same, but the thing that caught his eye was the Gryffindor scarf. Red and gold, bringing bright colours to the sea of white. He made his way to the figure, tapping him or her on the shoulder. The figure jumped, then turned around. What Oliver saw absolutely stunned him.

The figure was now identified as female, and she was one of the most beautiful girls Oliver had ever seen. Her skin seemed to be made of porcelain, it was that perfect. Bright green eyes gazed at him, searching his face for something. The girl had a cute nose - the tiniest hint of a curve at the end. Her lips were a pale pink, pulled in to a timid smile. Frackles were scattered under her eyes and over the bridge of her nose like constellations. Red hair fell all around her sheeks, who were flushed a lighter red. Oliver couldn't decide if she was blushing, or if it was from the cold.

"Hi," she said, tossing Oliver from his trance.

"Hello," he replied. A few quiet moments passed.

"Positively scintillating conversation we're having," the girl said, smiling warmly.

"Er.. so how come I haven't seen you around?" Oliver asked. "I mean, at least in the Commonroom."

"Good question. I've certainly noticed you - the Quidditch Allstar, always rushing around, never time for the little people." She paused for a moment, and they both said nothing. Oliver stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Jokes, Quidditch boy. Jokes."

"Funny. Haha. So, Miss Invisible, what's your name?"

"Sophie."

"Oliver."

"So I've heard," she siad, smiling again.

"I suppose you have. What are you doing out here all by your lonesome?"

"I should be asking you that," she replied. "You can't possibly have nothing to do."

"Yeah, I s'pose so," he said. "Everyone needs a little quiet time, though."

"Ah, the pressure getting to be a bit too much?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Cute," Sophie replied, stepping half an inch closer to him. Oliver raised a hand and tapped her on the end of her nose. She smiled and crinkled her nose. "So, tell me something, Quidditch boy."

"Like what?"

"Anything."

"I like you," he blurted out.

"That certainly is something," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't.. I mean.. Well.. You know.."

"Yes, I completely understand your nonsense," she said.

"You're nice, is what I meant," Oliver said, looking down at his feet. "I mean, what kind of person would stand out in the cold and talk to a stranger? Even if we are in the same house."

"You're nice, too. I didn't expect it, since you've never looked at me twice, busy Quidditch boy. Hell, I doubt you've even looked at me once."

Oliver shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry. It gets busy when you're such a.. ahem, Quidditch Allstar." He made air quotes around Quidditch and Allstar. Sophie nodded, not sure what to say next.

"Hey, do you want to go back to the Commonroom? It's gotten a bit cold out," Oliver said, crossing his fingers inside his coat pockets.

"It's been cold out since this bloody snow fell," Sophie said, shrugging. "But sure, why not?" They began to walk back the way they came.

"So, you never told me what you were doing out here by yourself," Oliver said, walking as close to her as possible without touching her.

"Nothing, really. I've always liked standing in the snow with no one around."

"I'm sorry for shaking your precarious little snowglobe," Oliver said, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt.

"It was worth it," she replied, looking up at his slightly red face. She smiled at him and quickly looked back at the ground. "He definetly is cute," she thought to herself. "I wonder why he's suddenly so interested in me."

By this time, they had reached the gates leading back in to the school. Without a word, they made their way through the winding, moving staircases. When they finally reached the Gryffindor portrait, Oliver waved to the person inside of it and said the password.

"Nice to see you again, Oliver," said the portrait as it swung open. Sophie followed close behind. When they reached the main room, Sophie and Oliver peeled off the scarves and coats that adorned their bodies.

"So," Oliver said.

"So..." Sophie replied. They sat in the quiet room, silence and tension filling the air. "Plenty of breathing room, but I can hardly move," though Oliver.

"You're quite the character," Sophie said, breaking the silence. She half-smiled at Oliver, wishing he would say something.

"So, Sophie.. the weather?" Oliver said, not quite sure what to say.

"Right, if that's all this conversation is going to contain, I'll see you later." She got up to leave, and Oliver motioned for her to sit again.

"I'm sorry," he said once she had been seated again. "I don't have much experience in these situations, so I don't know what to say."

"What sort of situation are you in?"

"A one-on-one situation," he replied.

"And why not?" she asked, suddenly absorbed in the conversation.

"Always busy," he said with a sigh. "All of the Quidditch things, on top of schoolwork, leaves no time for deeper friendships." He studied Sophie's face intensely, watching as she spoke.

"Have you ever considered not taking on as much? You're only young once, you know."

"So I've been told. Who's to say this isn't how I want to live my life?"

"This isn't how you want to live it," she said. "You kind of gave yourself away a few moments ago. Anyway, this is how someone else wants you to live it." She stood again, giving the tiniest wave to him as she made her way towards the girls' staircase. She stopped on the bottom step, looking at Oliver. "Same time tomorrow, Quidditch boy."

"Right you are, gorgeous."