"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change."

- Wayne Dyer

She arrived on the train one cold December morning, thick travelling cloak whipping around her ankles as she walked, her heeled boots leaving deep impressions in the snow. Her short dark hair was pinned back from her face, her cheeks ears and nose reddened from the cold. Her features – average looking, at best – were marred with a look of disgust, which only worsened when their gazes locked.

He was already dreading working with her.

She stomped through the snow as if it was there to personally insult her, and her glare intensified when she noticed the smirk slowly making its way across his face. He made no attempt to school his features, instead he raised his hand in a sarcastic salute and could barely contain his gleeful laugh when she growled – actually growled – in response. The expression that induced would have terrified a lesser man to the core – or at least someone who hadn't been raised by Molly Weasley – which only seemed to intensify her perpetual anger.

They began walking in step with each other, though he could tell by her clenched fists and stiff gait that if she knew where they were going she would already be several feet ahead of him. He had to stop himself from catching her the few times that she slipped, obviously unsure of her footing in the unfamiliar terrain but certainly not open to any form of assistance from anyone – least of all him, the man who she would be forced to work with for at least the next year.

They walked in a stony silence for what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a couple of hours. Snow clung to their boots and ankles, and caught in their hair and around their shoulders – only kept from obscuring their vision by a simple spell – but the warming spells kept it from affecting them a great deal.

When the path along the mountain side narrowed, he took the lead and she followed behind with only minimal complaining. Here the wind was much louder – and they wouldn't have been able to talk even if they wanted to – buffeting against them with a force that threatened to send them down the steep drop of the mountain if they weren't careful.

It took a physical effort for him to slow his pace down – he took this path almost every day, but she was unused to such terrain and her footing wouldn't be sure enough for them to safely walk any faster.

By the time they reached the large valley in between two of the mountains – the size of several Quidditch fields put together – they were both slightly out of breath, noses cheeks and lips red and chapped from the wind exposure. He waited for her to slate him – if the way this day had gone so far was anything to go by then the criticism was inevitable – but...

Nothing.

He frowned slightly, turning to face her head on, and stopped at the expression on her face.

Pure, unabashed awe – it seemed to come from her very being making her glow with it as she stared at the magnificent beasts before her. The magic enclosure, whilst invisible, was strong, and allowed for the dragons to get close enough that they could reach out and touch scaly flanks if not for the barrier that separated them.

He couldn't help the broad grin – both from her reaction and being back with the creatures that he loved – and stood silently beside her admiring the shimmering pearly scaled of the forty foot dragon as it brushed against the walls of its enclosure.

The Antipodean Opaleye stopped to regard them silently, its glittering multicoloured eyes flashing in the reflected sunlight. Despite the trek, he was glad that this was the first Dragon he had brought her to see – other than the warmer temperature of its enclosure, the Antipodean Opaleye was one of the more docile of its species; less prone to random attacks and easier to train.

"It's beautiful," She finally whispered, voice conveying every ounce of the awe she felt.

"Yeah," he whispered, before clearing his throat and continuing at a louder volume, "The Antipodean Opaleye. You can't work with them just yet," at this he grinned sheepishly, but hurried to continue at the look of derision aimed his way, "but you can work with some of the younger Opaleye dragons. Their enclosure's much closer to the ranch, but I thought you might like to see the adults first. Plus, you know," he added awkwardly, "warmer here."

"Yeah, why is that," she asked after a brief pause.

"Oh, uh... They're from... Or, they originate from New Zealand. Warmer climate, so warmer enclosure," he managed to stutter out, unsure of where the sudden awkwardness was originating from.

"Okay, that makes sense. So why do they live in valleys? I thought it was more common for Dragons to live in the mountains." She asked without missing a beat, still completely absorbed in the Dragon in front of her.

"Well, yeah. Typically they do. That doesn't mean they all do though, it's just their most common habitat. It's the same for a lot of things... Uh..." He paused to think, wishing that he had come up with an example before saying anything, "like... Hippogriffs! They, uh... There's a heard of them at Hogwarts – in the Forbidden Forest, but... uh... they don't all live there. A lot of them live in forests, but not all of them; there are herds in mountain ranges all over Europe."

"My friend had a bad experience with a Hippogriff once," she replied with a slight shudder but he had the feeling she wasn't really listening to what he was telling her, far too captivated with the Dragons to really care about what he was saying.

He couldn't really blame her, it was a beautiful sight.