Disclaimer: I own Snow. That's about it.

A/N: It feels so good to write again!

Snow Falls

Chapter Thirteen

Snow slept fitfully that night, her dream scape a castle high in the mountains of some foreign land. In the little play her subconscious chose to act out, she was dressed in an eighteenth century gown and wandered the halls of some great palace, candelabra in hand. She woke some time during the night, after her dream self had stumbled upon a very odd chest that contained some very strange liquids that seemed to pour out upside down. Shortly after her return to the real world, she quietly put on her slippers and crept out of the house.

The chocolate room was quite beautiful at night, she noticed. Brightly shining candy stars twinkled above her, and she felt very safe in that sort of darkness. A smile danced across her lips and she sat down on the chocolate river bank, running her trusty flashlight over the surface. And all at once, a small patch of bubbles rose up, and she froze. Her eyes darted round for an instant, trying to find something with which to fend off the candy monster that lurked beneath the chocolate surface, but by the time she had found a suitable-sized edible branch, the thing had emerged. With some relief, she found it to be only an Oompa-Loompa. It wore snorkeling gear and waved at her, then disappeared again to do god knows what.

She must have been sitting on the bank for quite a while, for after a time, a small herd of Oompa-Loompas jogged by, all wearing matching track suits and looking positively thrilled to be awake so early. They tried to encourage her to jog with them, but only succeeded in accompanying her back to the house. So they delivered her to the doorstep and were on their way.

She finally kicked her slippers off and crawled into bed again at the crack of dawn, and barely had time to shut her eyes before Charlie woke. It already irritated her to no end how much of a morning person her cousin was, and he didn't help to change her opinion when he shook her gently awake five minutes later, saying softly, "Snow, would you like to come to work with me?"

"What if I say no?" she asked groggily, not having to put too much effort into sounding sleepy.

"Then I'll be very disappointed," he said, although he couldn't help but smile. "And I think Mr. Wonka will be, too."

At the mention of the chocolatier's name, she groaned and flailed her arm, swatting at her cousin. The boy stepped back just in time to avoid getting hit. "Fine," she said. "But if I pass out in the elevator, it's your fault."

Charlie grinned. "Deal," he said, and hopped downstairs.

As fate would have it, Snow didn't pass out in the elevator. Instead, she waited until she was watching her cousin and the candy man toil and slave away at some exploding thing or other in the inventing room before spontaneously collapsing on the floor. The impact resounded with a dull thud, and it was quite a few moments before either one of the males noticed anything was amiss. But when they finally came around, Willy Wonka grew panicked and ordered Snow's immediate removal to the library. She woke up some time later in the couch circle, her head throbbing. She placed a palm on her forehead and let out a soft noise of irritation, cursing her fucked up sleeping pattern.

"Oh, good," said a voice from somewhere near. "I hoped you'd wake up soon." She knew whose voice it was, even if she couldn't find the person who'd spoken the words. In an instant, there was a body by her side and a hand reaching for her own, stroking her fingers lovingly. "How do you feel?" the voice asked.

"Like shit," she responded instantly.

"Well, open your eyes and eat this." Reluctantly, she lifted her eyelids, only to be greeted by Willy Wonka, whose normally beautiful face was rather contorted in worry. In his free hand, he held a candy bar still in its wrapping paper. "Eat," he said again, and thrust the bar into her hands. While she worked to unwrap it, he reached for her and pulled her up, taking her in his arms and stroking her hair, more to calm himself than to calm her. "What happened?" he asked.

She unwrapped the chocolate and took a small bite. "I didn't sleep well," she said, voice muffled by a mouthful of candy.

"Dreams again?" he asked. He felt her nod. "What were they about this time?"

She swallowed. "I was running through a corridor of this ginormous castle with a candelabra in my hand, and I was dressed in eighteenth century attire." She gave a slight grin. "I find that most of my dreams are historically-inclined. And I was running to something, or from something. I don't know which." She sighed. "But then I woke up at like, two in the fucking morning and couldn't get back to sleep. But I guess my sleeping pattern's always been kinda screwy, so go figure." She shrugged and took another bite of the chocolate bar.

"Well, are you all right now?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay," she said.

Her health assured, he kissed the top of her head and removed her from his lap, leaning her against the curve of the couch and taking in the sight of her. Today, she wore a burgundy-hued sleeveless dress with a corset-style bodice and floor-length skirt. Those same fingerless gloves still covered her hands, and wrapped around her neck was a length of black lace with one large and shining red jewel hanging from it. He smiled, wondering if she knew how positively elegant a choker was when fastened about her neck. He reached out and grasped the jewel lightly, running his thumb over it. He leaned in, as if to inspect it from a closer angle, but his true motivation was to take a peek at her cleavage. For a fourteen-year-old, she was rather far along in that area of development, and he couldn't help but be delighted by that fact.

No less than she could help but notice. A slight grin on her lips, she took a gloved hand and hit him lightly on the head, just enough to focus his attention on her face. And to knock his top hat onto the floor. "Hey," he said, looking up at her with an irritated yet affectionate glimmer in his eye, and he broke what little physical contact they had to stoop and retrieve his prized accessory. When he came back up, he found her gaze settled squarely on his, and they simply sat for a moment, neither one daring to blink.

After a time, chest heaving with words unspoken, Snow reached out a hand and stroked his cheek. She then removed his top hat, for better accessibility, and leaned into him, pressing her lips against his. He blinked. It was surprising, the rapid nature of her movement, but not unpleasant or unwanted. He reciprocated the gesture, wrapping both hands around her neck and pulling her into him, settling her in his lap as she had been not too long ago. In time, his hands moved to her waist, as hers did to his chest, so that the only thing separating their torsos were her pale arms. The appendages did not, however, decrease the intensity of the kiss. They did not stop lips from parting wider, nor tongues from hesitantly tasting mouths not their own. The only thing that stopped the kiss at all was the fact that both participants had to breathe, and they pulled away after some minutes, gasping loudly for sufficient air supply.

When the feeling of lightheadedness that accompanies adrenaline and excitement had faded away, they leaned their foreheads together, tips of noses touching. She placed her hand on his cheek and closed her eyes, running her thumb over his lips. She was startled when she felt his teeth on her sensitive flesh, and struggled, for the sake of romanticism, to restrain a sudden giggle. Ultimately, she succeeded in her mission, and allowed his tongue to tease her thumb for a little while, until she could no longer stand it and felt she had to press her lips against his to hold back a bout of hysteria that would surely overcome her otherwise.

But as she kissed him that time, a thought struck her that had not before, and she very quickly opened her eyes and broke the kiss. She threw her body away from his and onto the couch, laying innocently on her back with her eyes closed. He stared at her in confusion for a moment, and, after regaining firm control of his breathing pattern, quietly asked, "What did you do that for?"

But she admonished, "Hush! Someone could have seen us!"

He looked up and then across the room, at both of the large windows. "But the curtains are drawn," he told her, no longer whispering.

She cracked open an icy eye. "On both of the windows?" she inquired, voice still soft. He nodded, and she instantly let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good," she said, and absently threw her hands over her head, allowing them to fall where they may. "I was so worried someone might have spotted us. God only knows what that might have led to." And then she paused, fixing her companion with a very serious gaze. "Willy," she said to him, "we can't let anyone find out about this. If they do, that'll be the end of us, and I don't just mean that as the end of our relationship. They'll send me back home in the blink of an eye and...and I really don't want to sound rude, but Charlie and the rest of his family'll probably not want to see you ever again." His eyes widened, adopted a state of shock. "I know it sounds harsh," she said, "but I can guarantee that is what will happen. So we can't let anybody know about this, all right? This has to be our little secret. Okay?"

He was silent a moment, considering her words. Then he stood and strode to her side, kneeling at the edge of the couch circle. He took one of her dainty hands in his own and lifted it to his lips, gave it a long and meaningful kiss. After kissing her hand, he leaned in and kissed her lips, a deep, warm, loving kiss that he many times tried to duplicate, but never managed to get it quite right. And then he pulled away, and looked deeply into her eyes, and said one simple word that assuaged all of her fears: "'Kay."

The blood is the life, Sikerra.