OF HARPS AND HAPPENINGS

By Miss de Winter

Author's Note: There were three reasons for me to write this story. First, after returning to ff.net after nearly a year away, I was shocked to find such a lack of Daine/Numair stories, and decided to throw my goldfish back into the pond. Secondly, a certain reviewer of The First Snowfall slapped me over the head and reminded me that not everything inside my mind is mysteriously known to the world. And thirdly, the idea stuck and I've brooded on it for so long I truly believe it can come out as something.

            This is a prequel to The First Snowfall. It's going to be a multi-chapter story, sometimes funny, sometimes fluffy, sometimes kill-your-self depressing. I naturally don't own anyone that you recognize.

            That's all, enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE

BEFORE

            It was such a winter.

And that night, the sky was pitch-black and completely littered with starts. There were flashes and streaks as some shot across, and in the middle of it all was a white sliver of a moon, recalling to ones heart magic tales from distant lands. It was the most magical and amazing night to have settled on Tortall in many a year.

And yet, all she could think about was just how bloody cold it was.

Daine shivered miserably and pulled Numair's cloak tighter around herself. She was almost completely swallowed up in the thick folds of the garment, but it still failed to efficiently warm her. She tried, she really tried to appreciate the…wonder and beauty…of this great event, but all that would go through her mind was "he is insane. he is suicidal. he is a masochist. he is a sadist. he wants to kill me. freeze me…"

The object of her frantic contemplation was standing a few feet away, clad in just a jacket, his head flung back to the stars, and he was mesmerized. The wind would rip and tear through his clothes and flap his sleeves and tug at his hair (Daine felt just a little bit guilty about depriving him of his cloak) but it didn't seem to bother him. Which was an oddity in itself, because it usually he that was complaining about the temperature. But in fact, nothing seemed to bother him just then. Even the notebook, where he was supposed be taking notes and observations and calculations, was receiving as little attention as Daine herself at the moment.

Asteroid showers. She would shudder at the thought for years to come.

Besides them, the only other occupant of the Balor's Needle was some obsessed astronomer—a scrawny little man with wild eyes and a spastic twitch—and although Daine couldn't see him just then—he was probably on the other side of the tower—she was willing to wager he'd be in the same state as her crazy companion (and therefore, no help whatsoever).

"Numair…" She pulled softly. She was whining, and she knew she was whining, and she hated whiners, but right then it seemed one of the most worthy occupations. "Numair, for the love of… It's cold!"

No reaction. It took a loudly-cleared throat and a poke in the side to bring him out of his trance. He turned, and seeing her tortured expression slimed slightly (of course—her sufferings were amusing to him).

"I'm cold." She declared.

He raised his eyebrows, eyeing her wearily. She was wearing two cloaks, and uncountable layers underneath them.

"I see."

"Very cold." She specified.

"'Very cold?'"

Daine glared.

"Why don't you go back inside?" He said softly. "I won't be long, I promise."

"No." She pouted stubbornly. "I know you. You'll stay out here till morning and then you'll be sick for weeks, and I'll be tormented by the racking feelings of guilt for leaving you out here for your death. Come."

Numair was untouched.

"Please."

 He reached over, gently brushing her cheek—his hand felt freezing to touch—and turned his face back to the sky.

Daine wouldn't give up. She grabbed his hand and yanked it hard, making him stumbled a bit and retrieving his attention.

"Come. I'm cold, you're cold, the crazy astronomer is cold… Let's just all go home and sit by the fire and drink something hot and be warm."

"In my right pocket there's a flask—"

"No." He'd brought it out to keep her warm, but no matter how cold she got, Daine wouldn't touch the whiskey. She hated the way it tasted and it always gave her headaches afterwards. "Just come."

"Magelet…" He breathed. "An event such as this would come around once in ten years! We should seize this chance to witness such a…magnificence... It'll be a long time before something like this happens again… " He trailed off, turning his head up. Daine gave his arm another hard tug.

"Ten years. Numair, I swear to you that in ten years, if it's just a little bit warmer, we can go out and watch your asteroid showers all night. But tonight…even the river has froze straight through! And we've been out here for four hours! You get just only one chance at life…"

"I promise not to stay until morning, or to be sick for weeks..."

"No."

He sighed, although in such a setting he didn't have the heart to become exasperated.

"I said no."

There was a small pause, and then Numair again turned, opened his mouth to give a long complex lecture, but for some reason stopped. Stopped and, with the same mesmerized expression he had when he'd watched the sky, observed her.

 He could see stars reflecting in her eyes, wide open and demanding, her face white in the light, and she shimmered. His breath hitched in his throat—that was something he just couldn't fight with. She stuck out her lower lip in a stubborn pout, and in all that made her look so perfect, that he just couldn't help himself.

Feeling so very much content with the world and everything in it, so very much in peace, with everything so lighthearted it was almost amusing, he extended an arm and motioned her over.

"Come here." He said, voice soft but suddenly very gentle. 

"Humph." Said Daine stubbornly. Numair beckoned. "Humph." She said again, but obliged all the same, walking over and leaning back into him, letting him encircle his arms around her. After a few moments of consideration, she added, "And don't you dare try any of your 'my sweet' things on me. It's a dirty trick, by anyone's book."

"Oh yes?"

"Yes. Plus—I'm immune."

Numair's heart skipped, he raised his eyebrows and looked down. Such a challenge would do to distract him even from a once-in-a-hundred-years meteor shower. He could tell that Daine knew exactly that.

"Oh really?"

            She pursed her lips adoringly. "Absolutely."

"'Absolutely?'"

"Completely."

"Is that so…"

Unable to resist, he leaned down and carefully drew her hair behind her ear. Daine, unconsciously, instinctively or perhaps in expectation, titled her head just a little and he gently brushed the angle of her jaw with his lips.

"I'm so very sorry to hear that…" He whispered and Daine, feeling his breath warm against her neck, felt a shiver slide down her spine. Numair drew his mouth to her ear, gently scraping the lobe with his teeth.

"See?" She muttered, a little breathlessly. "A mean and unfair trick."

"You're lovely, you know." He said quietly, in some kind of distracted wonder.

And of course at that she smiled, much pleased, and turned around in his arms for the kiss that had to follow such an announcement.

Numair complied. He leaned down and carefully kissed the corner of her mouth. She immediately turned her head to receive the kiss in full, pulling her hands free from his cloak to wrap them around his neck. He pulled back and trailed a line of light, brushing kissed along her jawbone, and felt her completely melt against him.

Inside her racing-tumbling mind, the only thought Daine could make out was, Perfect. This is perfect. To stay like this forever.

 "Let's come inside," she muttered breathlessly, only this time it was with intentions far other than sitting in front of the fire and drinking something hot and being warm.

Numair smiled slightly into the kiss, not at all against such a proposal.

"Alright." He whispered.