Snow

***
Chapter One: Winter Wonderland

She was supposed to be studying, that much was true. But when the stillness and the quietness of the room surrounded her, and the warmth of the fire warmed her to the very core, there was only one thing she could do: enjoy it. It wasn't every day Hermione Granger got the common room all to herself. She had her Arithmancy book scattered on the sofa to her left, bits of blank parchment scattered to her right. She had gotten so caught up in her deep thoughts that she hadn't even notice a certain raven haired boy with emerald eyes walking in. She didn't know how long he had been standing there, trying to get her attention, but it finally worked, and her head shot up to meet his bright green eyes. And it was over. She was no longer alone to bask in her spare moments with the common room.

"What is it Harry?" she asked him, because all he had done so far was just look down at her, a mischievous grin spreading across his handsome, young face.

"I want you to come with me," he said, holding out a hand to her.

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm busy Harry, schoolwork and such." She was mostly afraid of finding out what that mischievous grin meant. He shook his head fervently though, still holding out an insisting hand.

"You have been sitting there for 45 minutes Hermione, and you haven't even looked at your book. Besides, it's Christmas, and all the kids are gone. None of them will be doing their work."

She only shrugged. "Their grades aren't my problem," and she sighed, knowing that she would never win with Harry Potter.

True, the kids were all gone, which was partly the reason Hermione had the common room to herself at that moment. Even Ron had gone home, since both of his brothers were back for Christmas, (which was a rarity) and though Ron had insisted on staying, Hermione and Harry wouldn't hear of it. Hermione had stayed for Harry, in truth. She had told him it was because her parents had gone on vacation to visit her distant cousin, but Harry knew better. He was only too happy to have Hermione there with him.

She let him pull her up, making sure he got the point that she didn't want to leave her schoolwork, and followed him out of the Portrait of the Fat Lady, but not before Harry grabbed her winter robes, mitts and scarf.

"You'll want these," he told her.

So she knew he wanted to take her outside.

With a cautious step beside Harry, Hermione wondered why Harry would want to take her outside, when she was perfectly satisfied with staying indoors, in front of a warm fire, and the seclusion of the common room.

Together they made their way downstairs, Harry's steps so light, Hermione feared that he would bounce to the high ceilings. They stepped into the Entrance Hall, and Harry pushed open the great oak doors to a sight that made Hermione's face split into a gigantic smile.

Gasping at the sight in front of her, Hermione's heart gave an excited flutter. Snow always did this to her. Christmas just wasn't Christmas without snow. And sure enough the entire grounds and roofs of the castle were covered in thick layers of pure white snow.

"It's beautiful," she sighed, as they stepped further out onto the grounds.

"You've been stuck in the common room for so long, I knew you had no idea it had snowed. I know how much it means to you," Harry said. Looking through the corner of his eye he could see just how much she loved snow. She looked like a 10-year-old child again, instead of the 16-year-old young woman she now was. He grinned at her expression.

"It's wonderful. This is just amazing! I was wondering if we would have a white Christmas or not," she said tearfully. Indeed, snow meant this much to her.

He grabbed onto her hand and led her to the middle of the Quidditch Pitch.

She looked at him suddenly, feeling giddier than she had ever felt.

"Harry, thank you," she said softly, yet again ticking off the reasons why he was so amazing, and why she would always carry a secret infatuation for him. Because that was all it was, just a crush, but at the age of 16 the word 'crush' sounded so juvenile. There just was no other word for it. Certainly she wasn't in love with him. And certainly, she would never tell him. That would just be absurd. Half the school was in love with Harry Potter.

But half the school doesn't know Harry the way you do, Hermione, a voice in her head reminded her.

She shook her head, getting rid of traveling thoughts. She would not reflect on her feelings for Harry, while she was standing there with him.

As she thought this she was suddenly twirling. Harry had taken the liberty of putting her hand in his, his left hand resting on the small of her back, and her right hand rested on his shoulder. They looked like they could be waltzing, but instead they were spinning. He was twirling her around and she finally realized that she could be innocent and free with Harry. He was, after all, her best friend.

She let her head fall back slightly, watching the trees and castle whirl by, also covered in a silvery sheet of snow. She giggled. Light and free was what she felt. Never had she felt so lighthearted, so exhilarated...so...in love. She couldn't decide whether to be ecstatic with the revelation or utterly depressed. She knew it was true...knew it like she knew herself. But she had spent 6 long years trying to deny it. True, at the age of 11 she had been way too young to think of such a thing. But at the age of 11 she had considered it a silly crush. She had believed it so well that she was convinced that was all it was. Year after year in went on like that. And now, underneath a bright blue sky, with the sun shining down warmth on them, with the thick snow crunching beneath their feet, she could finally admit she was in love with Harry Potter. She didn't bother to argue with herself this time...The usual 'You're only 16 Hermione...what would you know about love?' fled from her mind, never to be heard again.

She realized with a sudden jolt that they had stopped spinning, and that Harry was staring down at her, the same grin playing on his lips, his bright green eyes twinkling with amusement.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked. She looked down and realized his hand was still on her back, her hand was still in his hand, that she was dipped over, her back arching, and that he was leaning over her.

She gave what she thought was an innocent smile and struggled out of his grasp.

"N-nothing," she stammered, for once losing the composure she was born with.

This time his eyes narrowed, the grin slightly wavering.

"You don't honestly think I believe that. Come on, Hermione, talk to me," he prodded gently.

Tick, another reason to love him, Hermione, the voice told her.

She grinned. "I was just thinking of what a good friend you are Harry. And I love you for that," she admitted; though it was a different kind of love that she was referring to. But Harry, she reminded herself, would never know that.

His eyes widened to saucers beneath his round glasses.

"You can't be serious," he said, his voice coming out barely more than a whisper. This time Hermione grew serious and she forced her own brown eyes to look directly in his.

Maybe if he looked hard enough he would see what she really wanted to tell him. Would he be able to see her heart and soul in her eyes? Her heart was beating furiously, almost painfully. The excitement that she could tell him increasing slightly. She wanted to tell him, and she didn't want to tell him. Would he think of her as an idiot, a silly fool, for believing herself to be in love? Had he ever been in love?

"I've never been more serious Harry. But does that really surprise you? You know you're a wonderful friend," she told him.

"No, the truth of it is that I feel I owe you so much. You've been there for me, for me and Ron," he added hastily, "more times than I can count. I sometimes feel so out of your league, wondering how in the world I ever became friends with you. After 6 years I've finally realized how much you mean to me. Not just our friendship, but you. So many times I could have lost you, and Ron," he added again.

The effect was lost. For a brief, fleeting moment, she thought he was pouring out his heart. In a way he was. It just wasn't the part that she wanted. She wanted him to love her, naturally. But he kept mentioning Ron...and she knew it would never happen.

She forced a smile and wrapped her slender arms around him, her head fitting comfortably where his shoulder and neck met. She felt his own strong and powerful arms encircle her, pulling her closer, just like she wanted him to. They stood like that for what seemed forever. It was much longer than a hug should have been, and Hermione was far too elated to reflect on its implications. She just wanted to be there, with him, even just as a friend.

"We should head back you know, school work and whatnot," she finally said, and regretted saying it.

He pulled back and nodded in agreement, the bright twinkle in his eyes suddenly gone, his steps not as light, his grin not as mischievous.

"Hot chocolate?" she asked brightly, trying to cheer him up. She didn't know what she had done, didn't know why his mood had shifted considerably. She only knew that she didn't want him to be upset. And so like the good friend she wanted to be, she held fast to his hand, leading him up to the castle, with promises of a warm fire and a warm drink.

To Be Continued...