Disclaimer: they didn't call it fanfiction for nothing.
Argh. Whatever. Resubmitting. Inspired by the book, The Joy Luck Club, by Amy Tan, because I love the descriptions and I wanted to write about snow/winter/fingertips. Experimenting with words and crap.
Winter Trance
At first, Remus never saw what was so great about winter. The weather was terrible, sending in cold drafts as he meandered through the barren corridors, and at night the floors pierced his feet like icicles, whether or not he was wearing wool socks like he always did. Winter just gave him another excuse to stay quietly by the blazing fire, to let his insides absorb the blistering-hot apple cider that washed down into his throat.
Sirius, however, loved this season the most. Everything about it carved a sly grin on his face and splashed laughter in his eyes, but Remus never really figured out why.
Until he showed him.
And at first, Remus wasn't so sure. He refused to leave the safety of the common room, he clung to the portrait for dear life, tried to defy the strength of his black-haired friend, but once he was outside and trapped in the dazzle and whirlwind of December, it wiped his mind blank like that dusty, dark slate that was washed clean after every lesson. That's what he was familiar with.
Not this.
It was something about those fingertips, making him forget everything about the freezing gusts of wind thrashing violently at him and drop into a blinding bliss, sliding gently down his rosy cheek that was chilled by the fierce winter air, these five ghostly touches that burned his skin but made it feel curiously colder, scorched it but left no mark.
It was those black eyelashes that contrasted so sharply against that fair face, against the flurries around them, these lashes that caught the tiny, sparkling snowflakes like butterflies before they melted away into nothing, and they waved at him to reveal blurs of lustrous grey like that of the frozen lake before them.
It was those almost-blue lips that slowly parted his numb ones, cautiously and tenderly like a child opening a treasure chest, and then the frigid space between them was replaced by a slip of moist warmth, filling his mouth pleasantly with the faint taste of mint cocoa.
And then it was the misty, white breath that hung around them, swirling in and out of sight when he exhaled melodically into the nipping breeze. His eyelashes traveled so softly and gracefully against Remus's cheek as if they weren't even there, and the ends of his pink fingers departed on a quest to find their way into Remus's warm palms.
And with those freezing, wet lips, he smiled, offering enough comfort to melt the harshest of storms and to shelter against the bitterest north winds that sliced their faces like knives. He brought Remus back down to reality with light, sweeping puff of air as his warm voice sailed around their red ears.
"And this," he whispered, "is why I love winter."