December

"Wait!"

My voice sounds breathless and giddy, bouncing back to me against a wall of thick December air. I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips and the snow striking my cheeks, light as pixies and a thousand times brighter.

"Hurry up, then!" There's laughter in your voice, the rush that comes from running too fast, pushing too hard. The fraction of a heartbeat after I've cast a spell and I don't know whether I've done it right or not. The night glows as I sprint through a swirling sea of white, watching the ground and your dark form racing ahead of me.

"Hey...!" My feet crash through your snowy footprints as I shadow your steps, the dancing edges of your fluttering cloak urging me on.

You slow down at the edge of the trees. I skitter to a halt, spraying snow over your boots. A slightly smug grin flickers at your lips as I squint at you through a cloud of white.

"Tad out of shape, aren't we?" you chuckle. I lean against a tree, closing my eyes. My pulse resonates in my head, strangely muted, like thunder trapped in a pillowcase. The snowflakes hitting my ears tinkle with clear, soft tones. I can sense your laughter weaving through the moonlit air, in time with my heartbeat.

"Quit smirking, you git," I retort, opening my eyes and scooping up a handful of snow. I have to laugh at the startled expression on your face as you stare at me through a large snowball. A determined gleam comes into your eyes as you wipe globs of snow out of your dark hair.

"Right, that's it."

A yelp flies out of my mouth as you launch yourself at me, toppling both of us to the ground. Our bodies seem to intertwine as we fall; I feel your arms circling my waist and your legs tangling around mine. We settle almost gently to the ground, sinking into a bed of sparkling white crystals. I wonder briefly if you can sense my heartbeat, swirling with the snow.

You look down at me, unblinking. I stare up into the dark green depths of the forest within your eyes, as uncharted and intriguing at the forest lying before us. The soft snow crunches under my back as I shift against the ground and your body. Silence and moonlight weave themselves between us and I stop moving, gazing up at you.

You narrow your eyes at me...

... and an explosive sneeze crashes into my face.

"Aack!" I scramble into a sitting position, shoving you into the snow. You roll around on the ground, peals of laughter shaking your body as I swipe my bare fingers across my face and sputter loudly.

"Oh, that's absolutely priceless! That expression--"

I scowl as I reach over and pull your snow-covered scarf onto your face, giving the ends a vindictive yank. You laugh anyway as you extricate yourself from the wet fabric, pulling it off your neck and folding it into a neat square, shoving it into a pocket.

I pull myself up and watch as you scramble to your feet and shake the fabric of your cloak, forming swirling clouds of crystal. Tiny, waltzing flakes settle in your ebony hair. They glimmer like stars, sharp silver against mid-winter black.

"Warm for December," you say, lifting your head and looking up at the falling sky. I gaze at you quietly, covered with downy white, like feathers from an angel's wings.

"D'you think anyone noticed?"

I blink snow-laden eyelashes, my mind moving like the soft, wispy sparkles drifting in the night. When I finally shake my head, snowflakes drizzle off my hair.

"No. It's late; everyone's asleep." I pause and look back across the field. "Anyway, the snow is covering everything."

You push a lock of your midnight hair out of your eyes as you follow my gaze out to the blanketed ground. Soft moonlight casts an ethereal, glowing aura onto the silver earth. The fluttering snow has indeed started to conceal our tracks, the curving hollows in the ground filling with the glittering white petals of celestial roses. When I look up, it feels like I'm falling.

A soft breeze plays with the edges of my cloak, rippling my sleeves and pushing snowflakes into my eyes. I blink and rub lightly at an eyelid. The gleaming brilliance of the moon causes the snow to blaze with an intense, blinding whiteness.

"Is it waxing or waning?"

Your voice hovers lightly, trapped in the shimmering air. Moonlight seems to burn into me, waiting, as I turn the question over in my head. I don't follow Sinistra that closely, Trelawney even less.

"Could be either."

The silver-drenched night shines quietly. Ribbons of black sapphire and lustrous pearl drape themselves over the ebony trees. The glistening half-circle of the moon nestles gently into the dark fabric of the sky.

"I guess we'll wait and see, then."

I turn and try to pierce through the swirling, shifting veil of dizzying white to look at you. You're facing away from me, gazing out across the open field. Slivers of silence build themselves up along the snow.

A gently spreading pool of brightness crawls over my mind, tangling with the shadows of the quiet winter night. I can feel things pushing against the walls of air that suddenly curve down around me. Snowflakes leap and dive, whirling points of light against the satin darkness of the sky.

"Well?"

A soft exhalation, like the flicker of a shadow at the edge of my vision. You keep your focus somewhere far into the snow-shrouded night. The nails of my fingers press into my palms like icicles.

"Well, I can think of more convenient ways to catch hypothermia than what we just went through to sneak out," I reply. The words are light, like the snowflakes falling around us. You finally turn and look at me.

I stare into your eyes across a moving sheet of snow. Your gaze burns into me like the pointing spears of moonlight lancing into the ground. Fluttering points of light seem to weave themselves into the air between us.

You sigh. I feel it like a sudden breath that I didn't know I needed. The snow shifts and twirls with my heartbeat. I realize that you have caught the sleeve of my cloak with a soft tug.

"C'mon, then, let's have our walk."

Your slender fingers brush my wrist, the top of my hand.

Flickering whiteness, pointed heat. A slow, creeping flame works itself up my arm, across my shoulder, reaching out to every sinew of my heart. It feels like a searing inferno encased in glittering ice, waiting for the day that I burn myself.

Your fingers are so cold.

"You didn't bring gloves," you say quietly. I don't have to look at you to know that you're not looking at me.

"It's warm for December," I whisper.

The silence crawls under my clothing and out my mouth; each thick, white flake smothers another word in my throat as it hits my skin. A blinding, shimmering sea of tiny crystals stretches out for an eternity in front of us. I stare at our shadows glimmering on the snow, the moonlight blurring the dark outlines into the silver-streaked earth.

"It's also warm right before hypothermia kills you." Your voice has a light, snowflake quality.

My pulse has frozen like your fingertips. I have to throttle my heart and force it to move. Cold nudges at my body; it crouches whispering against my skin, seeking heat. The moonlight covers us like a shroud, twisting itself inside every dark crack of my mind. "You know this isn't a good idea."

You turn your head, the weight of your eyes on me before you speak. "Yes."

I fix my eyes away from you, feeling my stomach writhe like a wounded animal. Ahead of us, our shadows burn on the cold, glittering ground, flickering and blazing in time to our footsteps. The snow swirls and glows with an eerie light.

I shift my gaze and watch glimmering flakes descend across the field. There's a squeezing around my throat with every step I take. The snow makes it difficult to breathe. I'm drowning under waves of sparkling white.

"Are you cold?" you ask.

"No," I say softly. "It's warm for December."

You stop walking, and I sense your eyes searching my face, struggling to peer across a thick, heavy curtain of pointed silver crystals. The wind deposits more icy flakes down the collar of my shirt. Angel feathers, melting against my pulse. Heaven must be freezing.

Lights and shadows smear, black mists marbling with glowing tendrils of moonlight. The strands run off the edge of my vision like soft, entwined serpents. We stand frozen against a backdrop of trees and snow. The silence threatens to strangle me with its familiar, hungry whisper.

I raise my head slowly and meet your stare, forcing myself to hold the gesture. Your gaze is like a too-familiar mirror, and I struggle against the blankness I recognize within the sea of your eyes. Underneath that surface, a storm rages.

I wonder whether you see yourself or me.

The sharp moonlight illuminates your face, casts dark shadows around your features. There is no wind and no sound. The silence coils around us, so strong that I can't move, can't breathe.

We stand face to face, soul to soul. Glimmering waves of silver snow drift between us. Our shadows are so close together. The moonlight softens the edges, blends us into one.

One word. One breath. An answer to a question that I haven't asked.

Words tumble in the back of my mind and cocoon my head in a haze of bright pulses. I can feel icy wetness seep through to my scalp, pushing its coldness into my brain. I want to give myself to the lull of the dark December snow.

There's a burning tingle underneath my eyelids, matched by a similar sensation inside my ribcage. The snow is too bright, all silver and blazing and swirling together. "Maybe we should go back."

My breath forms smoky serpents as it hits the impenetrable chill.

A freezing wind whips through the trees, and small clumps of snow fall, hitting my shoulders and your head like Exploding Snaps. I brush the snow from my cloak, pushing the ice away with numb fingertips. I thought it was warm for December.

You look at me wordlessly, then turn around quietly and start walking back the way we came.

I close my eyes again and stand against the snow. Another gust of icy wind snakes across the field, slamming sharp, tiny crystals into my cheeks. A distant, rhythmic thud sounds in my eardrums, smothering me. Flares of burning silver streak across the inside of my eyelids like a violent snowstorm.

I open my eyes and look down at your footsteps pressed into the ground next to mine. They are already filling with snow.