James Potter loved the snow. Particularly at Hogwarts.
There was the fact that the snow covered every inch of the grounds, draping the Whomping Willow in a permanent state of sighing to remove the glistening white stuff from its branches. He figured the tree must find the snow annoying, and despite not being a tree himself, James couldn't understand why. The snow was beautiful, holding everything outside in a crystalline moment. The gamekeeper's hut was immaculate, smoke billowing in lazy rings from the fireplace, trying to contain the warmth inside when it definitely wasn't outside. The Forbidden Forest, during the day, looked peaceful and tranquil and welcome to fluffy bunnies and rainbows. At night, however, the snow illuminated the darkness surrounding the Forest, how it used the pure snow to drape itself in shadows and cloak itself in darkness. James wouldn't've been surprised to see Voldemort himself emerge from the Forest.
But, most of all, James enjoyed the snow because of its ability to be packed into a ball, and tossed at Sirius. And Peter and Remus.
But mostly Sirius.
It was a Saturday, and the Marauders were outside, having quite the competitive snowball fight. Sirius and Remus were losing considerably, which made James and Peter extremely happy. He was just about to launch the winning shot when he, James, got a snowball right to the face.
He heard Sirius gasping for breath in between laughter. Remus snorted, and Peter was frowning. The shot hadn't come from the other team's side. It was an unfair shot. It was—
"So much for being a top-class Quidditch player," a girl's voice rang out. Whether it was the clarity of the day or the girl herself, James didn't know. As he wiped the snow from his eyes, he knew that nothing would be as beautiful as Lily Evans standing in the snow with a scarf tied around her neck, her gloves deliciously wet from having just thrown a snowball at his face.
"I thought you were supposed to be quick with reflexes and what not," she teased, edging closer. James shook his head out and wiped at his glasses, wondering if he was dreaming.
"Nice shot, Evans!" Sirius cried at the girl. Lily grinned wickedly. "Prongs, I want her on my team—you can take Moody. He's not as good as he claims to be."
Remus thumped Sirius on the back as the other boy howled with laughter again.
James turned back to Lily, wondering why she hadn't left yet. She looked slightly out of place with a dark blue winter coat and a pair of pink earmuffs that clashed horribly with her hair.
"D'you want to join us?" James asked, jerking his head back towards the game. He was rewarded with another brilliant smile from the brilliant witch. For some reason, he couldn't feel his chest. He blamed it on the cold.
"I'd love to," she grinned, stooping down to scoop up a handful of snow and pack it into her perfect, tiny snowball. Peter had gone to retreat to the other side, making it three against two. And as Lily crawled down behind the haphazardly-made fort Peter and he had made as a blockade, her shoulder brushing against his, he knew that as much as he loved the snow, it didn't hold a candle to Lily Evans.
Particularly after she nailed Sirius in the face with a snowball three times in a row.
