Changing Seasons

Winter Crystals Over

Winter was his favorite season.

So cold and hard and dreary, just like his mood these days, but there was a reason it was his favorite. Along with the ice coating the ground and the wind chilling the air, it brought a mind-numbing coldness to his body and made his blood tingle and his bones ache.

It reminded him that he was alive.

Something he'd had trouble remembering as he floated through day-to-day activities as he'd memorized them after returning to this god-forsaken place that had seen so much of his disgrace. All until she'd come along before the ice arrived. Before the cold could make his blood tingle.

Blood.

It all came back to that single, astonishing substance. Something he'd abided and lived by all his life. The reason he had done so many things, in the name of blood.

But it hadn't saved his mother.

As he was waiting for his exoneration in his role in Dumbledore's death, the news had reached his ears. The Dark Lord had taken his anger over Draco's failure out on Narcissa Malfoy and she had been found dead in the gardens of Malfoy Manor.

So, here he was: seventeen years of age, more or less orphaned, no friends to speak of, ostracized by the school like a pariah, pitied by the teachers, and the only one who had taken the slightest interest in his well-being since his return to school is the one person he'd gone out of his way to ridicule.

Irony really had a way of making things come full circle.

It seemed maybe blood didn't matter so much after all.

She'd sat with him almost every night since the chill first started to set in. Sometimes she couldn't because of her Head Girl duties, but everytime he was back to being alone, he knew she would be there if she could.

Sometimes they held hands; other times she'd lean against him with his arm around her shoulders. Once, he'd settled his head in her lap and she'd stroked his hair. She seemed to enjoy that.

The one thing they didn't do was talk. It seemed they had reached a mutual silent agreement to leave the past where it was and only look towards the future without concentrating on any former issues they might have had.

It was refreshing to a boy who had carried the mantle of 'Malfoy' for far too long, a burden that was now his alone.

It was a week before the Christmas holidays when the weather shifted once more. The weather had been getting grayer and the wind chillier since the first night she appeared over a month before, but the castle grounds were now blanketed with a thin carpet of snow and the lake was just starting to ice over.

He continued to sit with only his wool cloak to protect him from the harsh surroundings and nothing to shield his hands.

Less than an hour later, she came, nearly covered from head to toe in her winter clothes complete with hat, scarf, and mittens. This time, however, instead of taking her usual seat by his side, she took his hand and tried to pull him up. When he resisted, the silence between them was broken for the first time.

"Come on, Draco. It's too cold to sit by the lake anymore. You'll catch your death out here," she said from behind the scarf knotted at her chin.

He said nothing in response. She continued to tug at his arm.

"Come on. I have a fire and hot cocoa in my common room."

A strange feeling started to bloom within him, and he had a hard time trying to identify it. At first, he thought she must have put a Warming Charm on her mittens and it was simply seeping into him from where both her hands were clasping his right one, but it wasn't. As she pleaded for him to come with her eyes, he realized he was being shown human warmth for the first time in his entire life.

His parents had loved him because he was a Malfoy, a product of their good breeding. His friends had followed him because he was a Malfoy. People deferred to him because he was a Malfoy, while others hated him or feared him because he was a Malfoy.

Hermione cared because he was Draco.

As he put the puzzle together in his mind, he rose gracefully to his feet, intending to follow her back into the castle, and was awarded with the gift of her smile.

Caught in the moment, he moved her scarf to the side, tipped her chin, and placed his lips softly against hers. She circled her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his assault.

The weather had changed again and so had they.

At the first touch of his tongue to hers, he felt the despair, the resentment, and even his anger, drain out of him as if it had never been there to begin with. It was supplication and sacrilege all in the same breath, a divine sin he was only beginning to master. Seeming lost for so long, it finally felt like he'd been found.

Like he had come home.

They pulled away from each other to draw air back in their bodies and both felt rather lightheaded. For Draco, it had been the single most liberating experience of his life. For Hermione, it was a beautiful vindication.

As one, they joined hands and made for the Heads common room, leaving the cold behind.