Disclaimer: don't own, don't sue.
Let It Be.
It was a particularly frigid night in Gryffindor tower. Frost painted each moldy window, and a stony silence hung thick in the air. At first glance, it might have seemed a rather morose atmosphere. However, despite the dull weather and the stillness of the castle, the mood was far from negative. It was, afterall, Christmas day - or night, depending on how you looked at it - and everyone seemed to be in high spirits, even if they were all mostly asleep by now.
The day had begun bright and calm. One look outside would ensure the sight of a light, crisp snowfall. Warm bodies would eagerly venture out from somewhere between even warmer sheets to meet the early morning sunlight. Toes would touch cool tile, and skin to cool air, chicken flesh claiming every exposed inch. So, on the sweaters and socks would go, concealed with flowing black cloaks. And down the still-colder stairs the warm bodies would scamper, hurrying to their common rooms for the unveiling of whatever gifts lay waiting for them under the stalky spruce trees. After the excitement had set in and countless scraps of colourful paper had been strewn carelessly about the floor, the bodies would scramble down to the Great Hall for a harty breakfast of whatever they so pleased. Once their stomachs were balmy and full, they carried about the rest of their hours in the same lazy fashion. Supper was a grand event as well, sustaining both their ever-tiring minds and once more empty bellies. Once the bodies had consumed as much as was deemed possible as well as satisfying, they marched in clusters back to their common rooms, and gradually their dormatories, undressing quickly due to the still-chilly air, and settling back into their inviting beds.
Indeed, it had been a nice day, as well as many other things, but overall just nice. It didn't really require evaluation further than that, but yet here Harry Potter sat on the windowsill alongside his four-poster, thinking it all over; just sitting and thinking, memorizing each mundane detail, like the way you'd think so long and hard over a single word for no apparent reason until it no longer held any real meaning. And maybe it all seemed rather pointless, but he needed this, and that was good enough a reason for him. He needed to remember times like these, times when he wasn't busy being The Boy Who Lived, competing for eternal glory, studying for OWL's; times where he could just be. And the stillness didn't bother him, nor the cold, because the quiet he found calming and the cool air clean and wakeful in his lungs.
Absorbed in thought, Harry hadn't realised anyone else's woken presence until a raspy throat cleared itself and gently said 'What're you doing up, mate? It's nearly three in the morning.'
Harry shrugged. 'Just thinking, I suppose.'
'About what?'
'Christmas.'
'Was it okay?'
'Yeah. I liked it.'
'Well good, then.' Harry smiled. 'C'mere, you must be freezing by that window.' So Harry carefully clambered down and sat himself on the edge of Ron's mattress. 'Honestly, whatever the reason is that you haven't even thought to wear a sweater or something completely eludes me. It's the dead of winter, for goodness' sake,' Ron continued shaking his head in mock-scourn, pulling his friend deeper into the malleable sheets. Harry grinned sleepily and allowed himself to be cradled to the redhead's chest.
And this was another one of those times he vowed to try and remember. As simple as it was, he cherished just existing like this, especially with his most favourite person - his best mate. Besides, simple was good; simple was easy. And as the pair were swept in and out of consciousness, it was simple, because they weren't attempting anything great or good or evil. They weren't attempting anything at all, because all they were really doing was breathing, and that was good enough. It was satisfying just to breathe; to let everything be.