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White Snow Covers Old Sins
She was just looking for a second of quiet.
A second to breathe in fresh air.
She wanted to feel her lungs expand, crisp and clean with winter air instead of heavy and lulled into complacent sighs and half smiles.
She just wanted to take an unhurried stroll around the snow blanketed courtyard once or twice before midnight, giving her a sense of a clean slate, unmuddled by memories and ghosts up in Gryffindor tower.
The new years celebration was filled with warmth and smells that were familiar but it was also haunting and spoke of days and people now past.
She wanted something new. Unused. A whisper of fresh beginnings that New Years Eve promised.
The night was quiet. An endless black sky behind shadowed black stone walls that all collided with the stark white ground. There wasn’t a wisp of wind to be heard or felt, the only movement that betrayed the illusion of a muggle photograph was the softly falling snow.
Tiny clusters of delicately threaded lace snowflakes drifted down from the sky, gravity their only companion. Bringing them back home after their journey of nucleation, lost in the sea of white, recycled tabula rasa.
She paused, a few feet out from under the stone archway, twisting her bare hands in the edges of her cardigan, pulling it closed.
She was chilled. She left the common room so quickly in an attempt to go unnoticed in case someone grabbed her for a drink or questioned her need for pause, she didn’t take her mittens or jacket.
The truth was there wasn’t much to it—why she left. She wasn’t particularly upset. As uncomfortable as the odd dejavu moments of holidays past were in their interruption by the unfortunate realization that some things were missing post war, she was ok with it. She’d made her peace.
She just felt restless and indifferent about the need to hold those moments close or create new ones in the same place.
She just wanted a chance to glance out at a blank piece of lily white paper blanketing the earth. She wanted fresh air and the reset it would give her brain.
The tips of her ears and nose tingled with winter's chill and she sniffled lightly, barely daring to break the muted silence that midnight winter in the Hogwarts courtyard afforder her at that moment.
“Bullocks!” A voice muttered and she glanced sideways, curious that she hadn’t noticed a person when she first came outside.
Draco Malfoy was crouched beside a fir tree along the west wall, finger in his mouth.
“Malfoy,” she said, loud enough to carry across the quiet night. He stood instantly, head turned over his shoulder at her call.
She walked towards him, her boots crunching fresh snow into the old, the only sound save for her tiny puffs of breath as she focused on the warm cloud caressing her lips.
“Granger,” Draco muttered as he shook his hand out before sucking the tip of his finger again. The tone wasn’t directed at her, she could tell in the small pull of his lips after he looked back to her again. When she stopped in front of him, he asked “What are you doing out here?”
"Oh umm, just getting some fresh air." She shook her head, curls shifting, allowing cold to kiss the back of her neck. "What are you doing? It's nearly midnight?"
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to the mess at their feet; matches haphazardly pouring out of their box, fuel cans, a broken lantern to match the ones hanging in the tree they stood next to.
"I swear Filch never sleeps," he eyed her a bit self consciously before clearing his throat and looking back down at the mess.
Her mind worked quickly as she remembered Draco Malfoy was assistant to Filch in the evenings.
They were back for their eighth year at Hogwarts and he was assigned a multitude of community service activities as a condition of his attendance.
"Perhaps he's a vampire," he muttered, sounding half amused.
Hermione snorted lightly, lowering her lips to brush against her knuckles that still bunched her cardigan against her chest, "maybe...it'd explain a lot actually."
Draco's head was still ducked but he looked back at her from beneath his lashes. A smirk spread across his lips, "it would wouldn't it."
They smiled in silence for a moment, his silly joke and her acceptance of it dissipating the awkward energy into something more comfortable.
Draco wrung his hand again and sucked on his fingertip for the third time.
"You ok?" Hermione asked.
He nodded, "yes just...burnt myself nicely."
"Where's your wand?"
"Oh, I left it inside. I think Filch finds extra joy in that he can only show me the muggle way to do these things." He shrugged, nudging the broken lantern on the ground with his toe.
Hermione pulled her wand from her back pocket and stepped closer, "can I see?"
"Hmm?" He looked at her, confused eyes jumping from her wand to her face. She smiled reassuringly. "Oh yes...of course."
He half stepped to her, offering his finger, fist folded save for the burnt one.
She huffed a small laugh, cradling the back of his balled up hand in her palm and while clutching her wand in the other, she used her free fingers to brush along his fist, encouraging him to loosen his grip.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, uncurling his fingers, granting her access as she slowly ran hers along their length. Her index tip bumped over the back of his signet ring on its journey and she paused for a second, eyes flicking back to his face. He was watching her, curiosity furrowing his brow slightly.
She sucked in a quick breath, looking back at his hand and pointing her wand.
" Episkey ," Hermione whispered, "there."
She swallowed, not willing to look up at him quite yet.
She came out here for the quiet, for clarity, for fresh air. Unplanned, she was now standing close to Draco Malfoy, his hand cradled in hers and their bodies so close she could feel the warmth of his breath and body heat radiating from him.
She shivered.
"Thanks," he whispered back. Her fingers were on his wrist again, trailing a feather light touch over his palm and up his fingers. His curled against hers at the sensation, the tips hooking together briefly before she broke away, finally raising her gaze to him.
She watched him swallow as his eyes danced up and down her face.
He was beautiful. The lantern light behind him caused his blond hair to look almost haloed, an ironically angelic look for a Malfoy but it worked.
He pursed his lips looking nervous and stepped away. Her hands went back to her mouth and she puffed forcefully against them in an attempt for warmth.
"You're freezing," he adopted a look that reminded her a bit of the judgment she was used to seeing from him but it came across more incredulous and concerned.
She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up and she buried her nose against her hands, "yes I forgot my jacket. Rather silly of me."
Draco cocked an eyebrow and undid his jumper, his exasperated expression holding firm. "Here," he slipped the green jumper from his shoulders and extended it to her, "take it, you're shivering like mad."
"Oh," her eyes shot up, but she wrapped her fingers around the offered clothing anyway, "won't you be cold?"
He shook his head, "my coats here." He bent and picked up a brown coat and Slytherin scarf, shaking the snow from them before slipping them on.
"Okay...thank you," she said meekly, tucking her arms in his jumper. It was still warm and the fact that he gave her something he was just wearing made her heart race. She fought her curiosity and the desire to smell the soft sleeves; what did Draco Malfoy smell like?
Hermione scrunched her nose, shaking her head fractionally as if to shake her thoughts away. Draco went back to his work, fixing the lantern at their feet.
She'd been curious about him since the end of the war. Since his trial and return to Hogwarts for their eighth year. He was quiet now, so unlike the Slytherin Prince that reigned authoritatively within these walls years ago. He seemed humble and dare she say, agreeable.
He studied with a small group of friends and without argument, performed his tasks deemed a requirement by the ministry on condition of his return.
He was polite to her, since they'd come back, whenever they crossed paths in class or the common spaces. She watched him, always curious. There was something about his eyes. She thought she should see something broken, something embarrassed, angry maybe, tortured. But what she noticed was something almost like wonder. Like he was quietly taking in a new world he thought he might want to be a part of.
Something in his eyes looked like a new beginning and she wanted to know more. She wanted that too—a new beginning.
She wanted to know how after everything that had happened, everything he did, everything they'd gone through, how he could walk around with a look of wonder. Like a baby learning the world. Like the way she did the day she stepped into a magical world of wizards.
"This is a good look for you," she said after realizing she'd stood quiet for far too long staring at his crouched form.
He chuckled, looking up at her, "What, the help? Groundskeeper?"
He didn't sound condescending or rude, he sounded playful. She rolled her eyes, biting back a smile, "No... humble," she warned in her teasing tone and the lift of her brow. He smiled to himself, effectively admonished. She continued, "accepting...there's grace in your humility."
He stared at her thoughtfully, chewing the inside of his cheek, "Yes well…" he stood up, holding the lantern. His eyes fell from hers as he fidgeted with the chain attached to it, "and anyway, Filch would have my hide if I didn’t do this stuff...and McGonagall too, probably."
Hermione's lips twitched, almost smiling with understanding. He lifted the chain to fix it to the one already hanging in the boughs.
"Is that the only reason you're doing this?" She stole a moment to sniff the cuffs of his jumper while his attention was on his work; peppermint and parchment. She smiled.
"Community service?" He didn't look at her right away but when his eyes did find her, he shrugged, muttering, "Isn't that what everyone thinks?"
“Don't do that,” she shook her head, stepping closer to him again, “don't deflect.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, attention full on her again, the lantern lowered to his centre.
She didn’t know what to say. She felt self conscious, wondering a bit if she’d overstepped their pretty truce of politeness. She shrugged and looked at him thoughtfully, hoping the softness in her eyes told him she saw more than compliance in his behaviour, she saw genuine contrition.
He nodded fractionally, he seemed to see her meaning and the relief at his thankful smile made her exhale a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Draco went back to work.
“Can I help you?” Hermione asked.
He looked over his shoulder at her for a second, “If you'd like.”
“I would.”
He tipped his head, telling her to come closer and she lifted her hands to his taking the lantern where he held it. “Got it?”
“Mmhmm.”
He moved his hands to the chain, working to fasten the loose end together.
“You're different now,” she said after a short silence. She was reaching high and her body was stretched long against his side, the chain short between where he was working and she held the lantern.
He looked down at her, bottom lip tucked under his tongue as he fiddled with the chain and the tool he was holding, “How so?”
Her eyes flicked from their work and his face nervously, his own eyes were smiling and she saw the pull at the corner of his mouth. She took in a deep breath, feeling light headed, either from her arms extended high above her or her proximity to Draco. She wasn’t quite sure.
“In a lot of ways,” she said softly before sniffing at the cold, “In small ways, important ways.” He didn't ask for more but he finally committed to the smile he was holding back, “I like it.” she finished, feeling bold.
He paused for a moment before clenching the chain link shut and nodding at her to let go of the lantern. She did and they both stepped back from their position against each other. The cold slipped around her again and she felt the loss of his body heat.
He looked away and bent for the box of matches.
“Like this…” she continued, hugging her arms around her, his jumper only doing so much against the cold now that she’d leached a fraction of his body heat directly from the source. “Your work with Filch.”
He chuckled again, sounding amused at her observation. “Groundskeeping...it’s thankless work, Granger,” he teased.
She smiled but went on listing the tasks she knew to be handed down to him by the Ministry, “and tutoring the second years, chaperoning the first years to Hogsmead—”
“Oh they're not all bad…” he cut her off, sniffling at the cold and trying but failing to light a match on the box, “it's refreshing really,” his playful smile morphed into something pensive, something wistful, “Their youthful ignorance.”
She nodded, eyes downcast as her boot shuffled snow around, “And...in the way you treat me.”
There was silence. That snow muffled muteness of the night engulfing her again. She chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering what she would see in his expression when she looked up.
It was guarded and almost culpable. He looked the way he did the day he apologized to her when they both stepped foot back in this school following the war.
“Hermione...I'm sorry—”
“It's ok—Draco.” She stepped forward, hand reaching out before she dropped it, “you don't have to apologize again. I meant it when I forgave you back at the beginning of the school year.”
Draco considered her words for a long minute then nodded. She was sure she heard him whisper ‘ok’ before he smiled politely and attempted to light a second match.
A spark and the sizzle of a flame.
Draco turned and opened the lantern door, lighting the inside with the match. “You're different too,” he laughed lightly, waving the match to extinguish the flame and shutting the door, “or rather, no, you're completely the same but...I see you differently.”
Hermione snorted, looking away from his smile, “And what do you see?”
He was silent again, but not as long as before, “I see everything.”
Her head snapped up at the fondness in his voice. His face was serious and his tone was loaded. She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant. The words themselves were completely insignificant but the way he said them whispered interest, attention, thoughtfulness, emotion.
Did he watch her too? Did he wonder, catalog the things he liked, the things he wanted to know more about?
Just like she had.
He coughed, breaking the silence and her reverie. “You don't have anywhere to be right now?” He looked around, as if searching for friends of hers, “It is New Year's Eve, Granger.”
Hermione huffed awkwardly, as if she’d been caught doing something embarrassing, “No I—well…there is a celebration in the Gryffindor common room but I just felt like being by myself for a minute...taking a walk.”
He looked confused, pointing between them before bending to toss the lantern mess into a crate, “But—”
“Well I saw you and…” She shook her head, shrugging and deciding for some sort of honesty, “I don't know. I just—my feet just carried me over here.”
He straightened and a shy smile graced his features. She thought it was beautiful. It was full of innocence and softened the war lines in his brow. She stepped closer again, craving the heat she felt from him before.
"Thanks for your help.” He smirked, looking away towards the lanterns. She smiled and moved beside him. He looked down at her, a small crease between his brow, “It’s nearly midnight, Granger.”
Hermione nodded, smiling and looking up at the fir boughs, heavy with snow and glowing gold with the flicker of the flame enclosed in the lanterns. The night was mute again, all sound absorbed by the soft snowfall save for their breathing.
“They’re beautiful,” she said quietly.
“They’re a bloody nuisance,” he muttered, laced with a bit of amusement, “Filch won’t let me use magic to light and maintain them.”
“Well your efforts are worth the aesthetics, I hope you realize.”
“I aim to please, Miss Granger.”
Hermione stifled a smile, her cheeks growing rosy, not from the cold but from the husky way Draco whispered beside her. Her heart skipped a beat and their arms brushed each other.
“You know,” she started, “In some cultures…at New Years people have a tradition of releasing lanterns into the sky…” She paused looking sideways at him, “it’s supposed to symbolize wishes they hope for in the new year.”
“What a pretty thought,” he replied quietly.
Their conversation died away again. Hermione shivered against Draco’s side.
He turned towards her, "You're frozen, Granger."
She chucked, rubbing his sleeve across the top of her ice cold nose, "I'm fine."
She tipped her chin up to look at his face full on. His brows were furrowed and jaw tight.
"C'mere," he mumbled, swallowing as he put a hand on her waist, pulling her into him. They were so close, barely a paper's width between them.
She felt his breath warm against her face and she swayed into him, her hands flat on his chest.
This was new. Felt unused. Not in the way one would think, not in a way that meant they’d been with others, that they carried baggage, that they were broken pieces to put back together.
This felt like the precipice of a new beginning and she couldn't fathom why the realization was so crystal clear.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Draco?"
She felt the back of his fingers graze across her cheek slowly before he tucked an errant curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered there, her earlobe caught between his thumb and forefinger. She looked up at him, breath shaky and heart pounding inside her chest, a wild animal looking for escape.
"What other new years tradition do you know of?"
Her mind whirled, she was fuzzy and warm, the cold of the night pushed out by the bubble they existed in with their proximity.
He was going to kiss her, she knew it in her bones.
"Well," Her voice cracked when she tried to speak, the anticipation of when he would lean in catching in her throat, "at midnight people tend to share a kiss."
Hermione's fingers curled around his scarf, her heavy breaths causing billowing clouds to shimmer against his neck.
"Why do they do that?" His voice was gravelly and his eyelids heavy.
"Many reasons," she took in a sharp breath, "to ensure affection for the year to come, encourage new relationships," she paused, his thumb distracting her as it glided across her jaw. She tipped her chin down, looking away, the intensity of his gaze making her fumble, "ummm...to...banish evil and begin a clean slate."
"Sounds important," he whispered against her forehead.
She was inexplicably nervous. She twisted her wrist slightly, looking at her watch, "Fourteen seconds to midnight."
Draco's hand that cupped her jaw pulled her chin back up to look at him before it slipped down her neck. It trailed a blazing path over her arm and around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
"Hermione, would you fault me if I said I can't wait that long?"
He closes his eyes, succumbing to the moment. He leaned in and brushed his nose against hers. Her own eyes fluttered but only half shut, suddenly not wanting to miss a thing.
"Gods, no."
He didn't hesitate another second. His lips brushed against hers at the same time he exhaled, his warm breath tingling across her skin. She leaned closer, if at all possible, her lips fitting perfectly into his.
It was the beginning of something. Something new. Something sacred. Begging for respect. Whispering of the wishes and hopes in the year to come.
They were embarking on a new year, surrounded by the falling snow that covered their old sins like a blanket.
This new year was a blank slate, and just fourteen seconds shy of midnight, they began to write a new story.