Burning Cold

"Get into him, Angelina!" Oliver yelled.

Harry, Quaffle in hand, looked to his right. Angelina was zooming towards him, the look on her face signalling that she didn't intend to play the ball.

Just as she was about to clatter into him, Harry flung his body to the side, spinning himself upside down. Angelina screamed, pulling her broom up abruptly.

Harry clutched on with his legs and threw a shot as hard as he could. Oliver could only spectate as the Quaffle cruised into the far goal.

"Okay, drill over." The captain signalled for the players to return to ground.

"Well done, Harry. You'd make a fine chaser." He turned to Angelina, his jaw clenched. "Would Flint pull up like that in a game?"

"Yeah my bad — next time I get the chance to kill our best flyer, I'll take it," Angelina replied, rolling her eyes.

George put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry Angelina — you can knock me off my broom anytime."

"Yeah, maybe I will…" She removed his arm and ran up to Katie and Alicia, who were both giggling incessantly.

"Save the flirting for after training," Oliver growled.

"You are just no fun," George said.

"The Sun's going down mate," Fred added.

"You know what that means?" George asked.

"Training is over," Harry answered.

"Atta boy, Harry," Fred and George said.

Oliver growled again.

Ron ran over from the sidelines. "That was wicked Harry!" he said. "When did you learn the Goldhorn Twist?"

"The Goldhorn what?"

"Little brother, it's the Potter Twist now," Fred said.

"Where's Neville?" Harry asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"With Hermione. She's helping him with Filtwick's essay."

"Don't you need help with that too?"

"Well, yeah…" Ron said sheepishly. "But you said you'd let me fly your Nimbus!"

Harry smirked as he held out his hand. "She's all yours."

Gleefully, Ron took the broom. He boarded it and shot away. The team bid Harry farewell as Ron's distant screams echoed around the pitch.

When Ron returned, his hair was messier than Harry's.

"…unbelievable…unbelievable…" he kept muttering as they walked towards the castle.

"You're the first person to fly it other than me," Harry said with a smile.

Ron scoffed. "Oh please, like you haven't let your girlfriend have a go."

Harry turned red. "My girlfriend?"

"Yeah, you don't have to pretend anymore mate. Me and Neville clocked you two ages ago."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Ron shook his head incredulously. "Yeah, sure you don't…"

After that, the walk back to the Common Room was silent, though Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from protesting his innocence.

When they entered, they found Neville slumped in an armchair, books sprawled upon his lap. His face lit up when he saw them.

"You alright there, Nev?" Ron asked, sitting down next to him.

"Better now you're back. Hermione gave me some reading to do, but now I can just ask Harry-"

"-I don't know Neville. If Hermione said you should do it, maybe it's not right-"

"-Hang on a second," Ron interrupted. "Before you two were all lovey-dovey, you helped us all the time."

"We are not lovey-dovey," Harry said, turning red again.

Ron looked at Neville. "He still thinks he can hide it from us."

"Come on Neville. Surely you don't think so as well?" Harry asked, feeling himself heat up.

Neville looked away embarrassedly. "Well, I dunno… Even today, I spent hours in the library with Hermione and all she talked about was… you."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He sat up, leaning closer. "Me? What did she say?"

"You know, how glad she is that you're spending Christmas with her. She's really excited, you know. She really wants to show you a good time."

Harry's stomach was doing summersaults.

"Exactly," Ron said with finality. "That's not even mentioning you two disappearing every morning. Even Fred and George don't know where you go, and they know everything about everyone."

Neville and Ron were looking at him expectantly. Harry sighed. "You guys, Hermione's the best — she really is, but I don't really know about relationships and stuff. What do boyfriend and girlfriend even do?"

Ron stroked his chin. "Well, you definitely hold hands. I think you're supposed to kiss as well, but that's meant to be in secret."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Kissing?" Neville asked, twitching on his seat.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Bill and Charlie did a lot of kissing when they were here. They told me."

"How do you do it?" Harry asked.

Ron looked up, apparently searching through his memories. "Well, it's quite complicated. Not easy to get right if you don't know what you're doing. But a good one, before you start, you have to speak in French."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's called a French kiss — it's the best kind of kiss."

"Hmmm, yeah…. I've heard of that," Neville said, nodding his head.

"A French kiss," Harry said, deep in thought.

"A French what?" came a female voice.

All three boys jumped in their seats.

Hermione sat down besides Harry, picking up one of the books Neville should have been reading. "I should have known you two would distract him," she said, rolling her eyes.

She stood up, signalling for Neville to do the same. As the two walked away, she shot Harry and Ron a menacing look. "Don't forget to pack your bags. We leave early tomorrow."

"Blimey," Ron mumbled. "What a nutter…"

Jubilantly, a snowflake bounced through the gust. Its journey was slow and plentiful, ending on the tip of a certain nose.

Hermione laughed, wiping it off Harry with her scarf. A sea of woolly hats was all to be seen at Hogsmeade Station as everyone embraced the homecoming feel. Invitingly, a familiar black train opened its doors.

The excitable chatter continued inside. Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron found a compartment quickly, throwing off their extra clothing.

Neville looked around, a small smile on his face.

"Happy to leave?" Ron asked.

"No, it's not that. Just… Do you guys remember the last time we were here?"

"How could we forget?" Hermione said.

"Trevor escaped as soon as we boarded. I wonder what kind of adventures he's been up to. I miss him."

Harry smiled back.

"Soppy twat," said Ron.

Hermione kicked him in the shin.

Soon, they left the white hills of Scotland for the green fields of England. By the time they arrived at King's Cross, night had fallen.

Ron was the first to say goodbye; his family was extremely visible amongst the crowd. Neville left soon after, though his farewell was short and sweet once he spotted his grandmother.

That left Harry with Hermione. "Come on," she said. "They won't be waiting here."

They exited the platform through the magical brick wall. Hermione immediately lit up, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him towards a middle-aged couple.

She lept forwards, hugging a man with an average frame, a warm face and a mane of bushy black hair. Next, she hugged a woman with a slim build, sleek brown hair and a playful smile.

"Blimey, it's like we got you a new book," the man said, smiling down at Hermione.

"Well, you could have done so," she replied coyly.

"You must be Harry," he said, stepping forward and offering his hand. "I'm Dan." The handshake was enthusiastic and a little too long.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"I'm Emma," the woman said, giving Harry a small hug. "Hermione's written a lot about you," she said with a wink.

"Oh-" Harry said, glancing at Hermione who was directing a murderous look towards her mother. "Um… nice to meet you, ma'am," he said with a smile.

"Do call us by our names," Dan said with a smirk. "I'm not quite a sir yet."

"Of course sir — I mean Dan."

"Harry, have you spotted your uncle yet?" Emma asked.

Harry looked around. Quite quickly, his attention was grasped by a large, burly man trekking towards them. "Yeah… hello Uncle."

"Boy," he greeted back. He handed Harry an envelope. "Passport and some change."

"Thank you-" Harry began, but his uncle was already walking away.

"Hang on — Vernon right? We spoke over the phone — I'm Dan." He offered his hand, something Vernon pretended not to see.

"Yes, yes…Paris…very lovely…have to be off…" Vernon turned back around, only to be stopped in his tracks once again.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" Emma called out. "You're not going to see your nephew again until the summer."

Vernon eyed Harry up, an almost sickly colour forming on his face. He offered a crooked smile. "Goodbye nephew," he croaked. Then, Vernon bolted off.

"Charming," Emma said.

"It's the magic," Harry explained. "They're not fond of it."

Dan crossed his brows. "That's like not being fond of fun."

"I mean, they're not fond of that either."

Dan's expression was now one of bemusement.

"Come on loser," Emma told her husband. "Let's go to the car."

She gave Harry a warm smile. "I've been told Paris is covered in snow. It's going to be beautiful."

The sky was the darkest blue, moonlight sparingly piercing through the cluster of clouds to light up the road ahead. As Dan drove, he and Emma chatted amongst themselves. Hermione had fallen asleep, her head gently resting on Harry's shoulder.

Emma laughed when she saw it. Dan pretended not to.

When the car came to a stop, Hermione shuffled upright, stifling a yawn.

"Sleep well, love?" Emma asked.

"Yeah… why?" Hermione asked suspiciously as her mother waggled her eyebrows.

"She's just being silly," said Dan, stepping outside.

The Grangers lived at 42 Martyrs Close, right at the end of the neighbourhood; the house was semi-detached to the rest of the block. They entered quietly, with Dan ushering Harry upstairs and straight to the guest bedroom.

The room was a good size, with a comfy-looking bed and lots of fluffy toys.

"Sorry, it's not much. You won't be here long — we're leaving early tomorrow."

Harry looked around appreciatively. 'Nice touch."

"I forgot about these." Dan chuckled, picking up a little pink pony from the floor. "These meant everything to her, before she discovered books."

Hermione opened the door. "Harry, you need to brush your tee-"

Her face flushed. She rounded on her father. "Why are these still here?"

Dan shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because we have a guest," she hissed.

"I like them,' Harry said.

"Oh, of course you do," Hermione huffed, grabbing the pony from her dad and stalking back out.

"Yeah… sleep well son," Dan said, leaving Harry to his own devices.

Tap. Tap. Harry walked over to the window, opening it. "Not hunting tonight?" he asked the snowy owl that landed on his shoulder. "Or do you just want to spend some quality time with me?"

Hedwig dug her claws into Harry. He pushed her off, wincing. "I'll take that as a no."

He picked up a fluffy toy owl from the desk, holding it up to Hedwig. "I'll just replace you then."

Hedwig's eyes flashed menacingly. Harry dropped the toy, putting his hands up. "I'm only kidding. They're Hermione's."

He looked around, a grin on his face. "What a softie."

Harry was having a weird dream. He was in the back of the Grangers' car again. Hermione was leaning against him, very asleep. Her hair was bushier than ever, taking up most of his line of sight. Emma and Dan were singing loudly to some ABBA. Harry wondered if he'd wake up in time for his morning run.

Then, the dream faded. Harry opened his eyes, expecting to be in bed and surrounded by fluffy toys. Instead, he was greeted by a loud horn and blinding light.

"What the…"

The car had come to a stop. Harry looked to his right. Hermione was wrestling with a hairbrush. Dan and Emma were handing some documents to a man behind a glass frame.

Hermione huffed, settling for just tying her hair up. She offered her brush to Harry.

"Very funny," Harry said. "Where are we?"

"Dover. I told you when we got in the car."

"I thought I was dreaming."

Hermione giggled. "What time did you go to bed?"

"I don't know. Hedwig was having a strop."

The car slowly crept forwards onto the ferry.

"There'll be breakfast here," Emma said cheerfully.

"Sleep as well, I hope," Dan mumbled.

The white cliffs of Dover looked like pillars of chalk as they floated away across the Channel. Foamy waves glided across the murky water, tamely crashing against the boat.

"I've always loved the sea," Hermione said, peering over the edge of the balcony. "There's something powerful here."

Harry squinted as the sharp gust whipped his hair over his face. "Mhm… salty water."

Hermione turned to him. "Your first time out on sea, and your observation is 'salty water'."

"Am I incorrect?"

Hermione burst out laughing. "You are ridiculous sometimes."

Harry scratched his head bemusedly.

Inside the ferry, they spotted Emma and Dan enjoying a coffee between them, looking snug.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "I would like to get away from them."

They went to explore, discovering the arcade in the next room.

"Come on, let's play," Hermione said. "Street Fighter…"

Harry smirked, fishing for one of the few pounds he had been gifted from his uncle. "You asked for it."

Harry then went on to be resoundingly beaten.

"That was too good," Hermione giggled as they left. "'You asked for it'," she teased.

"Yeah, yeah…" Harry said, shaking his head. Truthfully, he'd never stepped foot in an arcade before. Hermione didn't need to know.

Soon, they docked on the coast of France and settled in the car again. The roads of Calais were thin and busy. Harry peered out of the window, wide-eyed. Everywhere looked French, everything felt French and everyone spoke French. He told Hermione of his observations.

"That's very astute of you," she replied.

"Well, I am the smartest in the year."

Hermione glared at him.

"Alright, second smartest."

Hermione smiled.

"Ron's the smartest."

Hermione punched him in the arm.

Three hours later, they arrived in the snowy capital. Bundles of barren branches brushed the rich boundaries of the surrounding apartments. The ivory walls cascaded in until they were winding through the thinnest streets of the city. White flakes fell from the purple sky, settling upon the opaque carpet.

"Welcome to Madeleine," Dan said, pulling up.

Gingerly, they left the car and walked to a nearby block.

Dan pressed the buzzer. "Maman, c'est moi."

There was a hiss of static in reply, then a click as the front door unlocked. They took the elevator up to the fourth storey, lugging their belongings to Appartement Douze.

Dan made to knock, but his knuckles connected with thin air as the door swung open. With a shine in her eyes, a small, elderly woman stood with her arms outstretched.

"Mon bébé," the Granger matriarch said, pushing her son out of the way and smothering Hermione in a warm embrace. "You've grown into a lady," she said in between kisses.

"Thank you Grandma," Hermione mumbled shyly.

Next, she pulled Emma in for a hug. "My sweet, I missed you."

"Oh, I missed you two," Emma said heartily.

She turned to Dan, dropping her smile. "And you…"

"Maman, I can explain," he said, eye-widened as his mother stroked the stubble on his face. "You see, I've been rocking this look for a while now and I thought about shaving, but I didn't want to do that just to please you-"

"Bon," she said.

"Really?"

"Oui. You look grown." She pulled him in for a hug and planted a kiss on his forehead.

Finally, Madame Granger's gaze shifted on Harry. "And you are Monsieur Potter," she said, cupping his cheek with her hand. She smiled at him before turning away. "Come in, come in. Let's get you settled."

Madame Granger's apartment was toasty. Perhaps a little too toasty. Before they had gotten the chance to unpack, the elderly woman had sat them at the dining table, attempting to stuff them with pastries.

Harry was rather enjoying himself since most of the selection was new to him. On the other hand, Hermione and Emma were giving Dan a look of danger.

"Maman," he said.

"Oui," she replied. Her face fell, "Are they not tasty?"

"No, they're sublime," Dan said quickly. "Right everyone?"

They all gave Madame Granger a croissant-filled smile.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"It's just that we were going to…"

"…take Harry to the market," Emma jumped in.

"We were?" Hermione asked.

Emma glared at her.

"We were!" Hermione exclaimed, clocking on.

"D'accord, there is no need to shout," Madame Granger said. "I'll get my coat."

So off they went on a chilly drive into the heart of Paris.

"Oh wow…" Harry muttered as he looked out.

Hermione budged into him to get a view of her own. "It's quite good, isn't it?"

Harry had seen Christmas festivities before; namely at the local mall, or down the neighbourhood. Or at least he thought he did. For what he was seeing now knocked the Polkiss' light-show out the park.

A pyramid of glass stood proudly, with red, white and green luminescence bouncing off its surface. Surrounding were bustling markets of food and games as far as the eye could see, bowing down to a large spruce tree, on top of which glistened a golden star.

Madame Granger yawned. "It was better last year."

"There's no parking…" Dan muttered.

Emma turned around. "Alright, you two go exploring. We'll meet you in there." She handed Hermione some money.

"On their own?" Madame Granger asked. "They are still little."

"We can take care of ourselves," Hermione replied. "Come on Harry."

Excitedly, they stepped out and approached the festivities.

"What do you want to do?" Harry asked, admiring a stupidly large cotton floss stand as they passed.

"We could go on a ride?"

"You never want to go on my Nimbus, but you'd like to ride a little rollercoaster?"

Hermione huffed. "That's different. I wouldn't feel very safe."

"I offered to drive you."

"Everytime I see you on a broom, you nearly kill yourself."

"That's when I'm on my own. I'd be extremely gentle if you were with me."

Hermione scanned him for a moment. Harry tried his best to look sincere.

"Fine," she relented, smiling smally. "One ride when we're back."

Harry smirked. "Let's go on this rollercoaster then."

This activity was very boring for Harry. In fact, he probably would have fallen asleep had it not been for Hermione's constant shrieking.

"Oh no," Hermione said as they stepped on land again. "My hair…" She attempted to pat down the furry mess on her head.

"That pyramid is really cool," Harry said.

"Well, you'd hope so. That's the Louvre."

"Oh… Yeah that makes sense."

Hermione shook her head. "You've never been on holiday, have you?"

"No. The Dursleys go a lot, but it would be too expensive to take me as well. That's alright though."

"That's not alright, Harry! This family of yours… I should have had a word with your Uncle at King's Cross!"

"No, really Hermione. Mrs Figg lets me watch TV all day. Those are my favourite summers, when the Dursleys are away."

Hermione stopped walking. "Promise me something."

Harry wanted to be annoyed at Hermione for feeling so sorry for him, though when he met her eyes, it was impossible.

"Promise me that you'll spend the summer with me."

Harry felt his throat go dry. He wanted to speak, but his lips wouldn't part.

"Or you could go to Ron's. Or Neville's. Anywhere, but there."

The wind whistled in anticipation.

Harry nodded. "With you." He realised he was forgetting how to breathe and turned away. "I need a drink."

"Me too," Hermione almost whispered.

Harry felt weird. With hot chocolates warming their hands, they sat by the Louvre. Hogwarts had given him a home, but Hermione was giving him something else. Something more. He felt… he couldn't place it. Just weird.

The rest of the evening passed quickly, though the odd feeling had settled inside Harry's stomach. The Grangers had found them in time to explore the market together. Afterwards, they ate at a nearby restaurant and it turned out the Granger women were wine enthusiasts. Hermione pledged not to follow in their footsteps. When they eventually returned to the apartment, it was near midnight. Harry's silence had not gone unnoticed, with Hermione eyeing him mysteriously as he retired to his room.

The truth was that Harry was beginning to feel incredibly guilty. He sat on the bed, thinking over what he was about to do. What Godric had told him to do. Still, keeping secrets from Hermione… he had promised he would never do it again. Yet, Godric had insisted.

Harry ground his teeth. He felt like a Slytherin. From his trouser pocket, he pulled out a folded parchment. Hedwig watched curiously as he attempted to iron out the creases, swearing a little more than the activity required.

Sorry Hermione. There's something I have to do. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. Hopefully I'll be back by Christmas, but if not, I've left some presents in my trunk for you all. Hedwig's delivered a letter to Dumbledore explaining my escapade, just in case. Again, I am really sorry.

Harry

He shook his head. That really did not read well.

Hedwig chirped at him.

"I know, I know…" he grumbled, petting her softly. "What if I stay?"

The snowy owl tilted her head.

"To hell with Voldemort. I could enjoy Christmas. Spend time with Hermione. I just have to stay…"

An hour passed before Harry was certain that everyone was sound asleep. Hedwig had taken her leave, en route to England. Harry, rucksack on back, was about to take his leave, en route to some mystical place.

He took one last look at the note he'd left on the desk. It was still a little crumpled. There was probably some symbolism there.

Silently, he tiptoed out of his room, through the front door, took the elevator down and stepped onto the street. The cold air was like a slap to the face. It almost felt deserved.

He pulled a circular device from his pocket, staring at a thorned rose smothered in ancient inscriptions. Hesitantly, he pulled the mechanism close to his mouth and whispered, "Zee-Dian-Woa."

The rose shrivelled and Harry felt the metal in his hand warm, then it bloomed again, all black apart from a singular red petal. As Harry turned, the petal pointed in the same direction. It was one of Godric's machines; a gift from a wise sorcerer in China. A compass that will always show you the right path.

Truthfully, Harry had no idea how long he would be travelling. Godric had told him that he would have to go to France, but where in the country he couldn't specify. If the compass led him south, he would potentially be walking for weeks.

Quickly, Harry lost his bearings. North felt like west, east felt like south, Harry felt like going back to Hermione… The Sun rose teasingly, providing no warmth within its rays. The only thing keeping Harry's fingers from falling off was the heat of the compass.

By midday, Harry encountered more cattle than people and was sure that he had trespassed on numerous private lands. So far, no angry farmers had tried to run him over with a tractor, but Harry felt his luck would run out eventually.

Upon nightfall, Harry was exhausted. Although his hunger had been satisfied with an assortment of Madame Granger's pastries, the lack of sleep was taking its toll. If someone were to stumble upon him in his current state, they would see a zombie-like figure, drenched in mud, eerily stalking towards the dark forest ahead.

To make things worse, the petal was dimming. The once stark red was now a sad maroon. Harry observed it carefully from under a large spruce tree, rolling the compass in his hands. He stuffed it inside his pocket, slumping against his rucksack. Lying on a bed of frosted leaves, he stared up at the barren night sky. His body ached with fatigue, though his mind simply wasn't resting. It was funny. When he was walking, all he could think about was lying down. Now he was lying down, all he could think about was walking again.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry's eyes began to shut out the cold night.

Whizz.

Harry sat up. He scanned his surroundings, pulling his wand out.

"Who's there?"

No reply.

"Allez!" he shouted. Someone had to be there. The noise had been so loud, like it had come from right next to him. "Ah!" Harry pulled out the compass from his pocket. It was steaming. The rose was pulsating, every petal blood red.

Whizz.

Harry spun. There it was. Not a person, but a blue ball of light, zipping around like a Golden Snitch. It bounced away, inviting him to follow. Harry obliged, following the light into the depths of the dark forest.

Harry clambered into an opening in the ground. The ball was like ice and fire, burning cold; its magic was magnetic, pulling him in from the tips of his toes to the scar on his head. Together, they traversed the rocky cavern, greeting the colourful stalactites amicably. Eventually, the light settled in a pool of water, illuminating it a brilliant blue.

Harry hovered his hand over, soaking it in the warm steam. Giddily, he stripped off and dived in headfirst. He floated in the sapphire waters, delighting as the energy was syphoned from him. The blue light pulled Harry under. He inhaled the liquid, feeling no pain as his Iungs were filled. Finally, he closed his eyes, drifting into the abyss.

When he opened them again, they met a familiar set of green eyes. He looked around. He was on grass. Blue grass. The sky was pink and there were two red suns, one big and one little. The air tasted like mango. "Is this heaven?"

Godric laughed heartily. He offered Harry his hand, pulling him up with ease. "Now, we can really begin."