Not quite so long between posts this time. So ... You know ... Booyah or something. Not much else to say. I am very tired and would like to go to sleep now. It has been a very long night ... or morning, as it appears to be now. Nightmorning? Norning? Whatever ... Goodnight.

Oh yeah, and enjoy ...

- Chapter Seven -

A Simple Distraction

Hermione was supposed to be skiing with her family over the holiday break. Skiing, however, was not a particular joy of hers. Instead, she decided to spend Christmas with Harry, Ron, and the others at Grimmauld Place. Especially after Dumbledore informed her of what had happened to Mr. Weasley. She needed to be with Harry and Ron. However, there was still time for one other endeavor if she managed her time properly

Having to wait for the official end of the term, Hermione was only now arriving in the area. As it was, Professor Umbridge was seething that Harry and Ron had left without her knowledge. While Hogwarts' passively contentious instructor was aware of the attack on Mr. Weasley, as well as Professor Dumbledore giving both Harry and Ron permission to visit at St Mungo's, the mere idea that students had left before the official start of Christmas holiday was certainly a violation of some potential Educational Decree she had brewing around in the confines of her vindictive mind.

So after her last class ended, Hermione packed a few necessities and summoned the Knight Bus. Before she left Hogwarts, however, she managed to convince Killian to meet her at the frozen pond they now occupied. No one expected her at Grimmauld Place, so she still had a few hours to do as she pleased with no watching eyes.

In the previous week since she and Killian were caught by Hagrid outside his home, she had not found a single moment to 'return borrowed book' to Killian. Instead, they had resorted to their standard letter writing. As much as she enjoyed the practice, she longed for a more personal interaction beyond a stained piece of parchment delivered in secret for fear of being revealed.

In fact, even this manner of communication had nearly been compromised. While being regaled with Harry's rather awkward telling of his even more awkward moment with Cho Chang in the Room of Requirement after their last meeting of D.A. before the term ended, Ron had inquired about a particularly long missive Hermione had been scribing in clear view of everyone.

Admittedly, she had gotten a bit careless in regards to her letters to Killian. While she kept them safely hidden upon receipt, she often now wrote in the presence of both Harry and Ron in the evenings as they sat together in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was not exactly out in the open, but it was not entirely hidden either. She was always busy writing one thing or another, so she thought it less conspicuous to simply scrawl away in their company than to constantly be disappearing each time she desired to put quill to parchment.

This particular time, for whatever reason, Ron paid it notice. When asked, Hermione tilted the parchment from view and convincingly passed it off as a letter to Victor Krum. His was the first name that came to mind as a plausible recipient. After all, they had attended the Yule Ball together the previous year. And he had, in fact, asked that she write to him, something of which both Ron and Harry were well aware.

Still … Another lie, another denial.

"Tell me again," Killian asked, clumsily lacing his skate as he sat on a bench beside a frozen pond several blocks from Grimmauld Place. "Why, exactly, are we partaking in this?"

Hermione smiled, already laced and waiting for Killian. "Because it's fun."

"Fun?" Killian asked with a raised eyebrow, finishing one skate and now working on the other. "Muggle culture is truly odd."

"I thought you found Muggle culture to be fascinating?" Hermione teased as she stood on the ice in front of Killian. "You're not scared, are you?"

"I believe I said I found it to be fascinatingly odd," Killian corrected. "And no, I am not scared. I'm merely questioning the logic involved. Ice, in and of itself, provides little traction. So why, in all sanity, would one affix something to oneself in order to further waver their footing?"

Hermione smiled again as Killian finished preparing and stood rather unstably. "You analyze too much."

"No," Killian disagreed, cautiously straightening up. "I analyze exactly the correct amount."

"We could always skip this and discuss my current undertakings in the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare," Hermione offered with a grin. "I have a number of ideas to help raise awareness—"

"I believe I shall take my chances on the ice," Killian interjected with a smirk as he took an unsteady step. Instantly, his feet went out from under him, and he slammed into the ice. "Or on my back, as it appears."

"Oh, my God!" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as she stood over Killian. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine," Killian answered with a grimace. "Did I mention that aside from being rather slippery, ice is also significantly unforgiving?"

Hermione bent down and helped Killian struggle to his feet. Once upright, he reached into his coat and removed his wand.

"What are you doing?" Hermione gasped as she pushed his wand down, concealing it from view.

"I'm assuring I don't fall again," Killian answered simply.

"You can't," Hermione pointed out. "We're underage and off school grounds. It's illegal for us to use magic."

"For you, maybe," Killian pointed out with a grin. "But I'm certain I could get away with it."

Hermione glared at the arrogant Slytherin. "I'd rather not test your theory."

"Hermione, I—" Killian began.

"Please?"

Killian paused, looking at Hermione as she stared up at him. She could see that he was contemplating. Begrudgingly so. He looked to the sky, then back to Hermione, then off to side, then back again. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he replaced his wand within his jacket.

"You simply wish to see me in pain, don't you?" he asked with a smile.

Hermione's eyes beamed as she skated away and wound back again.

"See, now," Killian pointed out, "I cannot do that."

"Sure you can," Hermione assured, now pacing back and forth with ease, almost taunting Killian as he stared back at her through narrowing eyes and another raised eyebrow.

"Having already felt the cold sting of gravity pairing with inertia, I am inclined to disagree with you," he said as Hermione stopped in front of him.

"Here …" Hermione reached for Killian. "Take my hand."

Surprisingly, Killian obliged without further complaint, taking Hermione's hand and cautiously following her lead across the ice. Awkward and unstable, the two completed several laps around the pond, feeling the cold winter air sting their cheeks as the fragrances of the season permeated their surroundings.

"Bloody Muggles and their ridiculous practices," Killian lamented, as he nearly toppled while they rounded the far bend near the snow bank encompassing the area, causing Hermione to giggle under her breath.

Together, they continued to skate along hand in hand. Looking over at Killian, Hermione felt warm with amusement. He was so uncomfortable, so out of place. Yet, there he was. He was there because she had asked him to come. He was there because it was something she wanted to do. She knew how foolish he felt. Furthermore, she knew he would never allow anyone else to see him in such a state. Still, he was there … There for her.

"See?" Hermione said as they turned about at the end of the pond. "You're getting it."

"Yes …" Killian conceded with a roll of his eyes. "Thrilling."

As they rounded the end and continued on, Killian started to lose his footing once again. Fighting to maintain his balance, he spun off the side of the pond, tripped and fell into the snow bank, pulling Hermione down on top of him.

"Well," Hermione said, breathing heavily as she surveyed the damage. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."

"Maybe from your position," Killian groaned from beneath her.

Hermione got to her feet, laughing as she brushed the snow from her jacket. Killian did the same, albeit not as gracefully. Together, they made their way to the bench alongside the pond and sat down.

"My gloves are all wet," Hermione shivered, removing the soaked garments and rubbing her hands together. "I'm freezing."

"That's what happens when you play in the snow," Killian teased, removing his right glove and taking hold of Hermione's hands. "You are cold."

He massaged her hands for whatever warmth it could provide. In truth, the action itself was not as warming as the emotions it inspired. There was so little time at school, so many distractions that kept them apart. Even now, Hermione knew that their time would be short. It was almost five o'clock, and she had to get to Grimmauld Place before it got too dark.

Killian continued to work Hermione's hands, the fingers of his bare hand interlacing with hers. Whether this was a conscious effort or merely part of the process, Hermione could not be certain. In truth, she was rarely entirely certain of Killian's intentions. Nor hers, of late, for that matter. She merely wished to embrace the moment, forgoing all questions her mind may throw about.

"What will you be doing for the holidays?" Hermione asked.

"Nothing that wouldn't bore you," Killian dismissed. "Ghastly family gatherings mostly."

"You can be so enthusiastic at times," Hermione said with a sardonic undertone, feeling almost saddened by Killian's dismissal of the season and its traditional happenings. "You should smile during the holidays. That's what they're for."

"I'm smiling now," Killian pointed out with a wink.

"You're intolerable," she said with a sigh, shaking her head and looking away. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," Killian agreed. "And as we've just discovered, I am also a terrible ice skater."

"You weren't that bad," Hermione lied.

"Really?" Killian asked with mocked surprise.

"No, not really," Hermione admitted with another laugh. "You're actually pretty awful at it."

They sat on the bench for nearly an hour, ignoring the cold, enjoying the company. It was such a simple pleasure, but Hermione would not have traded it for the world. They bantered back and forth about every bit of anything that came to mind. Everything that mattered, everything that did not matter. It was not a debate over literature, history, or sociological inequalities. It was just words. Simple words. Countless words. Words that somehow meant everything and nothing at all.

When Hermione spoke, Killian listened attentively. As he did so, Hermione noticed how every so often his eyes would dart away for a fraction of a second, focusing on another area of her face, as if attempting to memorize every detail of her image. And when he spoke, Hermione found herself doing the same, observing minute tendencies she had never paid attention to in the past. How the corner of his mouth would curl ever so slightly for certain sounds. How often he would nod, shrug, or tilt his head to the left. How his eyes smiled, even when his face did not.

After a time, Hermione began to lose awareness of everything around them. The cold, the retreating daylight, the people passing by … None of it mattered, none of it even existed. There was no other element in their world at the moment aside from each other, together on a bench by a frozen pond on a winter's evening that could not have been more perfect.

The minutes ticked by, the light faded, and the skies grew dark. As with all moments in life, this moment, however pure and flawless, was inevitably going to come to an end. A moment that would have gone on forever if reality favored kindness over despair would cease and another moment would take its place.

"I need to be going," Hermione said reluctantly as she glanced to the sky.

"I know," Killian agreed with equal unwillingness. "Shall I walk you?"

"Probably not a good idea," Hermione answered. "Someone might see us. It's not far. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Killian asked. "I'd feel better if I knew you got there safely."

"I'll be fine," Hermione insisted once again.

"All right," Killian finally agreed, now firm in his footing with the skates removed.

"I imagine we won't see each other until after the holidays," Hermione said with a heavy heart, her one hand still in Killian's, uncertain if she should pull it away or move in closer.

"Probably not," Killian agreed.

"I didn't even get you anything," Hermione admitted. "I wasn't sure …"

Killian smiled. "Your company is far greater than any gift I could receive."

As usual, Hermione was not quite sure if Killian was being clever or sincere. Upon looking into his eyes, she decided to believe the former over the latter.

"I don't want to go," Hermione admitted as snow began to fall from the heavens.

"There will be other times," Killian promised. "Unless, of course, you get caught commiserating with a Slytherin around a frozen pond," he added with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped Killian across the chest when suddenly, and for reasons Hermione could not fathom, Killian appeared oddly uncomfortable. In truth, that was not quite the correct description, but she could think of no other word to express it. She felt the pressure as he grasped her hand tighter, drawing closer, then retreating several times in succession, shifting back and forth on his feet ever so slightly.

It was almost as if he did know how to say goodbye. The thought seemed almost silly. Regardless of what they were or were not, Killian had bowed down to kiss her hand in theatrical retreat numerous times in the past. Surely this time it was no different.

Or perhaps it was. Perhaps that was it exactly. This was not theater, it was not a performance. Killian had removed the mask he wore so often to hide from others. The person who stood before her was not the arrogant reclusive Slytherin who reluctantly accepted his house placement within Hogwarts. No, the person looking back at Hermione was just a boy who held her hand in the falling snow with the same uncertainties she possessed.

Feeling overwhelmed, Hermione threw her arms around Killian, kissing him warmly on the cheek. It was certainly crossing a line, but was not entirely a leap of faith. Just far enough to feel right. Even more so when she then felt Killian's arms around her waist as she nuzzled into his shoulder.

Pulling back only so far, Hermione saw a smile wash over Killian's face. Not the customary grin he so oftentimes wore. It was different. It was happy, almost cheerful. It was contagious.

"Happy Christmas, Killian …"

Killian paused a moment and simply looked at Hermione. It was a fraction of a second. Too short to be measured, yet long enough to take notice. In that moment, Hermione was overwhelmed with a sensation she had never experienced before. Not with him. Not with anyone. Unfiltered, unadulterated contentedness.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione …"

After a hesitation of her own, Hermione unwillingly withdrew from Killian's embrace.

"I really have to go."

"Right," Killian conceded.

"I'll see you back at school," Hermione continued as she backed away.

Killian nodded, smiling again. "Of course."

With that, Hermione turned and raced towards Grimmauld Place. When she reached the entrance, she looked around to see if anyone was watching. Down the street, Killian peered from around the corner. He had followed her. Of course he had followed her. He would

never allow her to walk the streets at night alone. Not if he could help it.

With a modest wave, Killian Disapparated, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts on the stoop of Grimmauld. Not quite ready to relinquish the moment, Hermione stood there in silence, feeling a warmth around her as the cold snow continued to fall, clinging to her hair and clothing. She needed the simple distraction the late afternoon provided. More so than she had realized. Looking to the heavens and watching as the snowflakes, illuminated by the street lights, danced against dark backdrop of the night sky, Hermione took a deep and cleansing breath. A moment later, she rang the bell.