Hi everyone! nn THIS is just a group of short stories that I wrote in my spare time. I hope you enjoy theeeem. Feedback for the whole thing, a single one, or whatever you feel like feedback-ing on, would be greatly appreciated. These aren't long, soooo, you should be done with them in a short five to ten minute time.

Disclaimer: Nothing that reminds you of Harry Potter in this fic belongs to me. If it did, well, I would be writing the next one, now wouldn't I?

Snow

Snow is like memories.

The flakes pack together on the hard surface of your mind and stay there until the rays of another lick at the ice, melting it away and melding it deep within your consciousness. A flower will bloom in its place where you can pluck at it anytime, delving into what was, be it happy or sad.

This was not a rare occurrence for Remus Lupin, who often found himself staring within the depths of his memories, reliving what he wished could have lasted forever.

This was not to be. Nothing ever was.

His memories were merely snowflakes.

Always melting away.

--

Ice

Harry wonders why Christmas isn't everyday of his life.

He watches the soft flurry of snow descend upon Hogwarts and wonders if his father ever once thought the same thing.

But it wasn't as if he'd ever know.

James was dead after all.

Harry lay a hand upon the smooth and chilly glass, slowing sliding it downward and watching the white imprints follow, then fade, leaving the barely visible traces of his fingers.

"Hey! Harry!"

The scarred boy turned; slightly startled out of his musings by the jovial voice that was always Ron Weasley.

"Yeah?"

"I believe Angelina is having a possible aneurysm. She wants you down at the field! Quidditch practice, you know."

He did know, but that didn't mean he had to say anything.

"All right. Tell her to hold on and I'll be there in a minute."

Ron merely nodded and ran out the common room, waving one last time before being consumed by the portrait as it shut.

Harry turned back to the window, exhaled softly, and watched as his breath spread across the window before following suit of his fingers and becoming the oxygen that circled around him.

Staring at the falling snow one last time, Harry stood up and focused on what was behind it.

The lake glistened with freshly packed snow, lying atop the frozen ice.

It was like his life.

It'd eventually break too.