Chapter 3: Scale?

"Scale?" Hermione was getting dressed while Draco watched her lazily, still in bed.

"For Theo? Eleven." He was propped up on an elbow and the peaky morning light washed over his form. The way he was twisted, strands of light fell on him creating meringue-like swirls on his abdominals. The lines made her hungry.

He caught her staring. "Granger…"

She snapped her eyes to his, they were teasing.

"Want something to eat?"

She turned away, pulling on a woollen sweater dress that scooped wide across her collarbone, another pair of thigh-high socks warming her legs. Her hair tousled, high and curly.

"I'm craving condensed milk," she replied, and Draco laughed.

She heard the bedside table drawer open and close and when she walked back to the bed to spell it tidy, she discovered him wearing boxer-briefs before crossing to the wardrobe she had vacated.

"Surely an eleven is excessive? We only gave Harry an eight."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potter would have bought a six, maybe even a five. I think the fact that you could even bring yourself to kiss me was proof enough to him that we were wildly in love."

He pulled on some grey sweatpants, plain white T-shirt and a navy merino jumper. She liked him dressed all cosy. He, of course, hated it. This must be part of the eleven.

He poked his head around the wardrobe door. "Where are those hideous slippers you got me?"

Oh yes, those 'hideous slippers' that dusted up her floors every time he visited. The very ones that she watched pucker and crease as he scrunched his toes inside them when he was relaxing on the couch.

"I would venture a guess that they will be adorning the feet of Mr. Nott," her words coyly wove around him in lilting tendrils, and he pouted.

Shaking himself out of the expression quickly, knowing she'd poke fun at him otherwise, Draco pulled focus elsewhere and chuckled. "Theo despises being called that, he must have asked you refer to him by name?"

"I don't much feel like giving Mr. Nott what he wants." Emerald trickery and carnelian aromatics flashed in her mind with even tombstone teeth. The warmth returned. She felt tight, coiled. She felt something she shouldn't.

Hermione stretched and walked to the window; the sky had clouded now. Heavy boughs of wintry candyfloss hanging low, readying to spin sugar from the sky.

"It's going to snow, Draco."

He came and stood near her, smiling at the wonder in her face. "Hm, maybe we only need a ten then. Snow always makes you hang off me like an icicle."

The first crystalline mote floated down, coasting past the window and she pressed a palm against the glass to feel the cold seep into her. She giggled and turned to him with a wide grin.

Snow was her favourite. There was nothing like being warm after you had been cold. She delighted in how each soft, small, icy sprite settled to gather and become something bigger, fuller, encompassing all it touched. How pillowy it was, cushioning your falls, powdering your skin and clothing. Yet could harden to form walls and blockade you inside. Each snowfall was different, just as each particle was also. Her magic jingled, wanting to play.

He transfigured his jumper a couple sizes larger and spread his arms out.

"Go on, then."

She skipped over with a squeal and burrowed underneath the soft wool, turning so her back pressed against his front. He adjusted his stance a little wider so she could stand between his feet. She pulled her arms through the sleeves and her head popped out the bottom of the V-neck. She brought her arms, and consequently his, around her in a crossed hug.

"You're ridiculous," he puffed into her hair.

"Says the teddy bear," she teased. His voice was warm though, he secretly liked how she made him be silly sometimes.

Draco was a head and a bit taller than her, and she leaned back on her heels, resting her head on his chest savouring being so very present, trusting him to keep the balance. It was a calm moment, one that she knew she would look back on fondly when their time together was over. Some day she may even get slightly misty-eyed from the memory. Her heart throbbed a little in gratitude.

She replaced her feet on the wooden slats of the floor and swayed them a little.

"So, Nott…"

"Mm?"

"He's a bit… interesting."

Draco slouched down so his face was right next to hers, his near-iridescent hair tickled her cheek as she shivered. Though she couldn't see it in her peripheral vision, she felt his smirk caress her cheek.

"Oh no, Granger. You've found something interesting. You don't let interesting go until you've found out everything you can about it."

"When it comes to work and study, that is so." She felt strangely nervous, but they'd promised to talk about feelings when they arose. And also to talk about them early even if they weren't sure what they meant.

She now understood why he'd been a fluster factory when he'd admitted Astoria Greengrass was 'quite nice' after her family moved back from the continent a month or so ago.

"So, how interesting is he?" His voice was thick with treacling amusement. She thumped her head against him subtly in response to the insinuation.

"I just felt... warm. Warm with flashes of colours: green and spiced browns."

"Ah," Draco nodded solemnly in understanding. "You've discovered his affinity to see through most any social defence. His need for an eleven. It's a little alarming, isn't it?"

She hadn't found it alarming. Just curious. Though that curiosity was folded in with mystery which pressed at her to ask for more. So, she'd try keep her mouth shut as much as possible.

Draco squeezed her sides. "You just let me know what you need. We've got eighteen months left of this thing. You're still with me, right?"

Hermione nuzzled into his shoulder and it unbunched a fraction. "I'm with you. It's barely an anything, it's just not a nothing. So, I thought I ought to tell you."

"Then thank you," he was watching their reflection in the window and she smiled at his mirrored self.

She wasn't going anywhere, even if this strange warmth became more, she wouldn't leave or renege on their promises. And it wasn't because of her parents. Even if she did stray from their commitments and destroyed everything they had, Draco would never remove the access to the healing they needed. But she was strong in her conviction. She cared about him. He was her friend, and she was loyal to her friends. She already had the scars to prove it.

She rubbed her thumb over where his arm was in their now-shared sleeve and spun them around. She began moving forward, determined to get outside now the snow had evolved from coasting to a flurry.

He stumbled after her, amused and protesting, but she used a sticking charm to adhere them together.

He bowed his head on top of her hair, laughing with the prescient knowledge that he was about to be visited by Lady Preposterous and her children, Absurdity and Ludicrousness.

Swinging their arms and legs like a toy soldier, ignoring his whining objections, she made them exit the room.

As they marched their way into the hall, Draco tried to scrabble and hang onto the door handle.

"No, no, no, no, no, Granger! This is too much," he objected, but his voice held a note that he was enjoying himself. She just turned and poked the tip of her tongue out at him.

Soldiering on, she reached the top of the stairs and their narrowness put a damper on her fun.

"Yeah, what are you going to do now, you tricky witch?" Draco gloated. "You won't be able to continue this literal manhandling down those."

Hermione twirled her wand in her hand.

"Oh no," Draco's voice was resigned and ready for calamity. He shouldn't have challenged her.

She tapped the banister and it widened and dipped into a slide. The railing now escaped off the stairs and angled onto the ground, skirting briefly along the floor before curving at the end to capture them. Draco pulled her close again, hands gripping her waist, seeing her intention.

"Miny, please-" was all he got out before she used a quick spell to jump them onto the sloping wooden beam, sending them squeeing with excited glee down her makeshift apparatus. The sharper dip at the end eliciting a chittering yelp from her and Draco squeezed her tighter with a surprised exclamation. Then the curving bracket at the end slowed them and settled them giggling on the ground. Draco had his face screwed tight and brought their hands up to run one down the side of his cheek.

"Gods, is it always like this?" That pressing alto crinkled her air, making it stutter in her chest. She quickly wiggled out of the shared jumper and stood in a fluid motion. She offered her hand to Draco who took it as the transfigured extension to the bannister pinged out of existence.

She hadn't known Nott was up. She was sure she would have heard him, but he snuck up on her in the kitchen last night as well. She glanced at Draco's slouching oversized jumper and the slight frizziness of her hair. This was all silliness and not the married life eleven they were supposed to be showing.

Her eyes became highly interested in the bunching way Draco's pant leg was tucked into his thick winter socks. But she could feel Theo's saturnalian aura pressing on her, daring her to look up.

Hermione felt the warmth flush her cheeks and she clutched Draco's hand for help.

He squeezed back briefly before releasing her and running a hand through his hair, making the supple tresses perfect again in a way she could never fathom. She looked to her candles on the wall by the stairs and they were giddy, flames dancing around their wicks and she glared at them. They were enjoying this far too much.

"Been a while, Theo." Draco had walked over to hug his friend. They exchanged words but Hermione didn't much hear them. The usual small talk, where had Theo been, what had he been doing. He dodged and was vague. Draco ribbed him with an inside joke, Theo shook the air as Draco ducked the attempt to mess up his locks. They moved with the same simplicity and familiarity she and Harry did. Siblings. Huh.

They were of a similar height, Draco maybe quarter of an inch taller. Despite having turned up with nothing upon his person, Theo was wearing more impeccably tailored clothing, contrasting to Draco's casual attire. A royal blue jacquard waistcoat with curling golden accents sat upon a crisp white shirt that was rolled to just below the elbows. The skin near it showing part of an Aeternalian compass and cuneiform tattoos. She tilted her head. They were designs that seemed entirely innocuous unless you knew what they were. She knew with certainty which option he fell into.

Her eyes had been sliding over the edges of the two men. A nervous see-sawing in her stomach that swung between being hyper-aware of everything Nott did and completely ignoring him. She seized her courage and took control, finally looking at him directly. Then immediately wished she hadn't as that warmth she'd discovered fluttered like a butterfly in a glass jar.

Theo gave her a discerning look; they must be talking about her. He grinned at her narrowing eyes, lifting his beverage to her in a toast. It smelled suspiciously of green tea with lemon and ginger.

"Morning, Hermione." He took a deliberate sip of his drink swallowing then opening his mouth just a little. Enough that she could tell he was running his tongue over his canine again but not letting her see it. Her warmth shifted like an ashen log finally collapsing in a bonfire. Sparks flew.

Needing a distraction, she flicked her wand and copied the slippers that Nott was wearing, another pair zinging into existence. But they got too excited at seeing their brothers and began pouncing and rolling all over Nott's feet which started shifting and twitching.

Giving a low chuckle, Theo stepped out of them and mischief overtook all four of the tan suede and sheepskin slippers. They ran around Nott, then Draco before rushing up to Hermione, leaping around her ankles. She crouched down and pet them, but they wouldn't be soothed. They got the zoomies and began rushing around the lounge and kitchen, tackling each other and making loud skittering noises.

Hermione sighed. "Sorry, they're excited. There's only ever been two of them before." She clicked her fingers a few times in a reprimand as one slipper had managed to pull a cupboard open and was poking around inside. It slunk out bashfully.

Draco groaned. "Having two of them was already a handful, I'm not cleaning up after them."

Theo was grinning and shaking his head at the chaos.

Hermione ran after one, scooping it up and stroking as it made squiggling motions, eventually managing to coax it into subservience. Looking around, she found its twin and gathered that one up, too.

"Stop being naughty and behave for Draco, OK?" They tilted together in curious wonderment but weren't vibrating with energy anymore. She put them down and they scrabbled over to Draco, becoming a bit more subdued and rubbing cautiously at his ankles but he bent over to give them a perfunctory pat and slipped his feet inside.

"Such a song and dance every damn time," he sighed, but his grimace was hiding a smile.

The other two slippers had found a bottlecap and were skidding and clattering around the kitchen after it until one accidentally slid it under a side table and they pressed themselves as flat as they could go, nudging the bottom of the wooden drawers and looking over to her beseechingly to retrieve their toy.

She exhaled and pressed her lips together but couldn't help smiling in affection. She went over and picked them up, one wiggling onto her shoulder and burying in her hair, the other prodding her face with soft suede kisses.

She placed them down by Nott's feet and they watched her back away before nibbling and making little bounds around him.

Nott bent down, putting his hand out to be sniffed. "You going to be good boys now? Had your fun?"

They tipped their toe-ends around his fingers then caressed him and he took that as a sign to put them on. Which they allowed, finally tuckered out.

Satisfied, Hermione moved and sat in the window seat, watching the snow and letting Draco and Theo continue to catch up. She was waiting, idling until her magic could have some fun. She was not thinking about how interesting Nott was. She wasn't.

She tuned them out, the flindrikin outside capturing her attention. Her body was humming, but it wasn't quite time yet.

Draco was sitting beside her on the window seat, and the smell of his coffee ground into her, rich and roasted and deep. He placed his hand on the bare skin of her thigh and gave it a small caress while he kept talking to Theo. A silent query if she was OK. She turned his palm and stroked it idly while she waited for the lawn to coat in sifted solidified weather.

The way her mind dulled the conversation reminded her of her parents' refrigerator in their Muggle kitchen. A gentle humming that you only noticed when it ticked off briefly with a gurgle before resuming. It was comforting until Theo's laugh cut in like the antagonistic burble of the fridge, resetting her serenity. Making her aware of that warmth that seemed to flush a little higher with every pass his eyes made of her.

A pattering of whirled snow tapped on the window, the boreas wind driving it to her. Finally.

Finally, it was time.

"Draco, I'm going to go play," she interrupted their conversation, already lifting herself off the window seat and heading for the door, not even stopping to put on shoes despite the inch-thick layer of frosting on the ground.

"What's she doing?" she heard Nott ask. His eyes were burning through her dress, charring the bones of her spine.

The grating swoosh of cotton on velvet sounded as Draco got up.

"You should come see this, Theo. It's a marvel."

Hermione had left the door open for them and went to stand in the middle of the garden. The scowtherin snow pliant and crunching with peeps of excitement beneath her feet. Her breath was crisping before her, the puffs curling like a password in the frigid air. Boreas huffed a mighty gust, and her hair blew out, disturbing the groundling crystals to swirl around her.

She sighed in readying bliss and began.

Whirling her wand between her fingers, she walked in a slow circle, the snow following her. Bouncing frivolously, waiting for choreography. As her wand cast at the ground behind, her careful steps completed a perfect ring, her feet now only touching grass, the snow she picked up wafting around her. One small step and she positioned herself inside the snow at the centre of the band.

She lifted her head and as the particles she had gathered drifted slow about her, the sky opened up to give her more, a fyoonach gifting her materials to use. A couple deliberately breaking pattern to caress her face and sink into her skin. She smiled and exhaled, calm and waiting.

"It's snowing more right on top of her," Nott's voice seemed like it echoed in a void space. Both too near and far.

"Yeah," Draco replied, distracted.

"Why?"

Though she shouldn't be able to, she heard the wool crease against Draco's T-shirt in a shrug.

"It just does."

Hermione opened her eyes and took her first pointed-toe step. Hands soft as melting dew, silhouette curved with grace, she danced.

Her arms floated and with a dreamy, lissome, twisting turn on the balls of her feet, an icy column rose beneath her like a shooting fountain. Curlicues and florets appeared, glazing as she spun and twirled. She was never quite sure what she orchestrated in these moments. All she knew was the sheer unshakeable joy of combining physical movement with wandwork, creating a special kind of magic that usually lay dormant until the conditions of the universe were met and manifested her passion into material representation.

This time had arabesque-turned spires and valleys, latticed bridges and frozen rivers. Spindles and minurets grew and gleamed under the dazzle of her magic. Steepled castles with waterfalls cascading from hollowed egresses and rolling island hills cresting, reaching for each other with spiked cliffsides. A veritable city was simultaneously imagined and devised in jeté and pas de basque. A place where dreams come true for those that hoped and misfortune was traded away in exchange for good deeds. She whirled and spun. Soft, elegant and sprinkled with whimsy, feet light enough they barely made tracks in the snow.

With a flurry of agile movement, the nascence her wand emanated grew in size and intricacy, the vinewood heated in her hand, aglow with exquisite cosmic alignment like she, at this very point in time, was the centre of the universe.

She made a final pirouetted flourish, her hand slowly held aloft to the sky. A singular concluding snowdrop fell, curious and flirting. With a gentle caress, it touched the tip of her finger and a pulsing wash of glassy zeal passed over her creation, leaving it shining and bright.

She felt the pulsing compulsion begin to ebb and her magic sang with fulfilment.

She breathed heavy, as the exertion of the exercise caught up to her. Her fantasy metropolis fanned out across the entirety of the lawn. It was her largest production yet and she turned to Draco, an ecstatic laughter leaving her.

She conjured a snowy whirligig to pick her up from where she had trapped herself and it raised her high, the snowy particles supporting her flight. She deposited herself beside Draco and he brushed off the white dusting that had fallen on him and shivered, casting another warming charm.

"Careful there, not all of us have your insane tolerance for this devil's element," he grumbled but brought her into a hug, kissing her cheek.

"Oh, you're just a sweet spring-bloom flower," she booped his nose and he crinkled it, moving away.

"It's beautiful though, Hermione. You outdo yourself every time, but this is just… wow." She watched him edge closer, enjoying the way he seemed entranced by it.

Hermione admired it from where Draco had watched. The silent hush of the snow fluttering around the structures to make the wonderland even more dazzling.

"You've been touched by a Cailleach Bhéara," Theo whispered. He was standing about three feet away, but it sounded like it was right in her ear.

Draco had gone to the periphery of the lawn to regard the diorama more closely so there was nothing between them when Theo turned his head and raised his gaze ever so slowly. And when their eyes met, Hermione gasped at the corona of heat that flared between them. She wished Draco was still there to grasp onto.

Her mouth was parched and as much as she wanted to wrest herself away, she couldn't. She watched, transfixed with a squeaking swallow as Theo raised his wand and swished it once.

Hermione widened her eyes in awe. A wash of brilliant Iris-blessed colour exited from his spell focus, the fire rainbow sparkling and rushing over her city, settling and making it come alive. The pigments adhering to make stained-glass windows, bringing a holographic sheen to the rivers and waterfalls, shading the city in a blazing glory.

It was wondrous, ethereal. Utinam perfection. Complete in a way her magic had never been before.

A tear fell onto Hermione's cheek at the beauty of it. Theo had come to stand in front of her but didn't obscure her view.

He lifted a cautious digit upwards and allowed the tear on her cheek to cling to the pad of his fingertip and looked right in her eyes again. The rose-petal gentleness with which he reached out made every peach fuzz hair on her stand on end. For he had not touched her, just the teardrop that now lay in a flawless dome upon the grooves of the extremity extended between them.

They both stared at it and Hermione felt another tingle ripple through her. A puffed breath of frosted air ghosted from her lips and it mingled with the steam from his own. Hermione's eyes grew in wonder as their exhalations melded together and imbued the drop, crystallising it. They had just created something. A bewitching and empyreal lachrymiform, but she knew not how it came to be.

Theo rolled the solid tear carefully between index finger and thumb. Able to hold the drop between the two. He didn't seem to know what to make of it either.

An undulating ecumenical wave rolled from Hermione's feet, through her body touching her heart and mind and soul, the melding of their opuses forming a final perfect balance and Hermione thought she ought to be terrified.

But she wasn't.

There was just sifting calm as her snow settled. Comforted now in huddling bundles by that ever-burning warmth.

A flicker of disoriented inquisitiveness passed over him like a noon-shy shadow.

"Hermione?"

That single word, which held so much, made her feel something she had never felt stepping into the snow. Something she hadn't felt in a very, very long time.

Frozen.

He saw it, gave a small friendly smile and backed away. Leaving the rest of the question unsaid.

But oh, how she wished he asked.