I don't own the characters. I attach strings to them and shout, "Dance marionettes! Dance for my pleasure!"

The snow was as white as angel wings and just as beautiful.

Winter had graced it's presence in Britain earlier than usual that year. Most of the students of Hogwarts Academy didn't mind, including one Ginny Weasley.

Ginny had always had a fondness for winter. It was a time of celebration, of remembering why you put up with the family who made it their life's mission to annoy you because they could. Her mum would always make hot coco for the family, but always make a peppermint eggnog just for her youngest. When Ginny was younger she would check and see if that fat old man in red riding actually existed.

Even more than that, there was snow.

Snow had always meant nostalgia to Ginny. She remembered playing in the snow for hours and hours with her family. Before Daddy became too old for games, before Charlie left for Romania, before Billy started growing out his hair and claiming that he was too old to play with his little sister, before Percy became a stick-in-the-mud and started longing for books instead of friends, before Fred and George spiced up their games with tricks and pranks, before Ron started whining that he should play with boys instead of little girls.

Before all of that she and her brothers would play in the cold for hours and not even care that it was so cold that their fingers turned blue. Their mother would shake her head and wrap them all in blankets before seating them by the fire. Sometimes she would tell her children stories before sending them off to bed. Other times they would tell stories to each other, each story getting more ridiculous than the last. They would laugh themselves into hysterics all night.

A snowflake landed on her nose, bringing Ginny out of her daydream. She laughed and rubbed the melted snow off her nose with her gloves before staring at the scenery again, her hands diving into the warmth of her pockets. The white was still pure and untouched by anything else. Arthur Weasley had told her once of Muggle cameras that would take still pictures instead of moving ones. She wished now more than ever that she had asked her father to buy her one.

Ginny smiled and started to hum to herself. Yes, this season was certainly her favorite.

"Ginny?"

She turned around and saw that Harry Potter was standing behind her. She smiled gently. "What's up Harry? Come to enjoy the scenery as well?"

The black haired youth nodded, gesturing to the owl on his shoulder. "Hedwig loves the snow. Can't tell for the life of me why, but whatever makes her happy." At his words, the white owl took to the sky, blending in well with the purity of the clouds. He smiled to himself before turning back to the young girl. "Are you not cold?"

Ginny shook her head. "The cold has never troubled me. I'll get something warm from the kitchens later if I'm desperate."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

They stood there together, both thoughts racing faster than the Hogwarts Express. Their cheeks burned a bright cherry color in protest to the cold while their eyes were glazed over with thought.

Eventually Ginny shivered. Harry noticed. "Do you want to go get a warm butterbeer?"

"It's not a Hogsmeade weekend."

Harry winked. "Kitchens remember? Besides, your lips are turning blue."

She surprised them both by winking at him. "Is that an invitation to kiss me, Mr. Potter?"

He froze, and just as Ginny thought she crossed a line, he laughed a bit and smiled sheepishly back at her. "If you want it to be."

Ginny smiled coyly and took a step forward towards the boy. "Still afraid of Ron?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

Another step. "No girlfriends?"

He was grinning now. "Not that I remember."

She pouted but took another step. They were only a few inches apart now. "Does that mean that if you probably had some bird hanging off your arm you wouldn't even remember her name?"

He shrugged. "I would only remember them if they were you." That made her freeze in her tracks and stare at him wide-eyed. "Ginny? Did I say something wrong?"

The poor bloke never knew what hit him as Ginny stood up on her toes and kissed him. It was innocent, a small peck on the lips. Just enough to send both of their hearts racing, their cheeks the color of apples. They separated after a few seconds. Their breaths puffed tiny white clouds that mingled together in the air.

"Not at all, Mr. Potter." She finally whispered. Harry could feel her hot breath on his neck. "No, you definitely did something right."

"I'm glad." He huffed back. "Does that mean I get to escort you to the kitchens?"

She smiled. "Certainly." She looped her arm around his and the two headed off towards warmth.