Thanks to everyone who is checking out these little drabbles. The latest prompt was 'broomstick,' 'lantern' and 'mummy'. Enjoy!

LCailan

First Snowfall

Hermione poked him, her eyes darting from the prone shape in their bed to the windows on the other side of the room.

"Wake up."

Draco groaned.

"Go away, Granger."

She smirked, wondering how many more years he'd call her that before he realized her name was Hermione. It always slipped out, especially when he was grumpy. Which she knew he would be.

"No seriously, wake up."

Draco rolled over and sat up, glaring at Hermione in a way that happened to be just as cute as it was menacing.

"Hermione," he spat. "I just spent ten hours a day for the last fourteen days organizing files for that old biddy in the house-elf relocation office just because you asked me to. It's my day off, and by God, if I want to sleep every last second away I'm going to do that! If I'm going to reinvent myself as a do-gooder wizard, I at least deserve some proper sleep!"

Then he flung himself against his pillow petulantly as Hermione stood, hands on her hips, her lip caught between her teeth.

"Draco, come on!"

She pulled on his sleeve, and Draco launched himself back up to a sitting position, angry now.

"I swear, woman, if this isn't important-"

She flung open the window that faced the street, her brown eyes sparkling.

"Look, it's first snowfall!"

Draco stopped fighting, amused at her eagerness.

Falling in love with Hermione Granger had been much easier than trying to understand the small, often insignificant moments that made her happy. It was getting easier, but Draco still struggled sometimes. But the snow thing…well, he did understand that. He rather enjoyed it in fact, although he would never admit such a thing. They stood side by side, watching the faint, white flakes falling, glittering in the light of the lanterns outside just as darkness was starting to fall around them.

"Come on," she said pulling on his hand. "Get your robes, it's time."

It had become a tradition of sorts, at least to Draco, though this, too, he would never admit. Her childlike excitement, the silent moments of watching the diamond-like flakes falling around them, and then-

"Get that broomstick of yours!"

She was already out of sight, moving to the narrow hallway of the flat she had insisted would be perfect for the two of them even though he felt like they were always bumping into walls, the odd piece of furniture, or each other. Though the 'each other' part was not bad. Not bad at all.

"Why don't you get yours?" he yelled back staring out at the lantern-lit early evening.

"Because I don't fly!"

She returned a minute later, dressed in his long, winter cloak, wearing a brilliant smile and holding his old, worn broomstick. She was glorious and Draco could deny her nothing. They stepped out onto the balcony and stood in the snow shower, both staring up at the navy sky just starting to sparkle with the faint markings of the stars.

Draco stopped looking up at the heavens, his eyes instead straying to the woman by his side. He had resented her at first, it was true. Her stupid best friend had defeated Voldemort, and he had resented having to be in the presence of the impeccable boy turned man with the scar. Having to accept that it was Potter who was chosen had been difficult, but having to work with him at the Ministry post-war had been impossible.

But then again, if things hadn't happened the way they had, he would never have fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

It had been on a night like this one, of first snowfall, just a few days after All Hallows Eve that it had happened. Well, perhaps, it was when Hermione had realized she was in love, for Draco had known his own feelings much longer than that. And because she was Hermione, and a girl, she had never forgotten that night.

And so it was that each year on the first snowfall, she would find him and drag him outside just the way they were now. She would be wearing that smile – the one that was as playful as it was content – and it would warm him in spite of the cold temperatures. She had chosen him. She loved him. She was happy.

"Ready?" he asked, offering her the broomstick, and she rolled her eyes.

"I told you, I don't fly. You first."

Rolling his eyes, Draco graceful mounted his Nimbus, and offered her his hand.

"Your rather thin and weightless chariot awaits, my dear lady."

She could only grin at his chivalry and as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her protectively against the warmth of his body, Hermione sighed with complete contentment.

He pushed off their balcony, sailing up towards the radiantly beautiful skies with their twinkling lights and diamond snowfall.

"Look," she gasped, never quite used to the feeling of flying, "It's trick-or-treat night!"

Draco gazed down at the city below them, seeing the Muggle children dressed like witches, cats, mummies and all manner of beasts.

"First snowfall came early this year," he said against her ear as they floated through the sky unbeknownst to the world below them.

Hermione turned her head and he got a whiff of the sweet scent of her shampoo for the briefest of moments.

"I don't mind," she told him matter-of-factly. "I love this day more than any other, and wish it would come early each year."

Her tiny hand in his, and her body wrapped so securely around him, he felt his heart melting. Gazing into her eyes, Draco pulled her closer as they sailed higher into the enchanted sky leaving the lantern lights, the children, the city behind.

"I love this!"

Her squeal rang out into the night. He laughed, feeling her heart racing against his.

He did too.