It Sure Been a Cold, Cold Winter

                                    

                                          
by: humanwinter
                          
Summary: 
                          
"I'd only just seen you the day before that," Harry says. "I thought I better come up with some excuse to go out there to you. Maybe say you looked cold, pull a Hansel and Gretel sort of thing and lure you with treats. Turns out you did look cold and I didn't have to leave bread crumbs,"
                          
°•°•°
                          
The wind rips through Niall's hair, but somehow the only thing he can hear is his teeth chattering and the scrape of his shovel against the concrete. It's been snowing for weeks but he's only just now been called to the job. He figures it was put off until the sidewalks were completely untreadable—probably to save money—but he's been doing this every winter since he was eleven so he doesn't let it get under his skin. Especially since he's got four layers of clothes on.
                          
He stops mid shovel and straightens up, feeling a sneeze begin to tingle his nose. It comes in full force, throwing him forward to rest his hands on his knees. He sniffles as he tosses the snow off the shovel and straightens up again. As always, he begins to pass the time by singing.
                          
~
                          
It's almost unbelievable how much snow can build up in a night. When Niall comes to work the next afternoon it's almost three feet deep. He sighs but uses his shovel as a microphone when he gets to the bridge of each song, and by evening the paths are clear and his chords are raw.
                          
"You're sure to catch frostbite this way," his mother says as she places a hot bowl of thick soup in his pale hands.
                          
"You're a positive one, aren't ya?" Niall replies, steadily bringing the bowl up to the tip of his nose to warm him. "Hmmm,"
                          
"At the table, please, honey." She says, pressing a hand to his back. "Next time you get cold, go over to that little shop and get you a coffee. Keep that throat of yours nice and warm."
                          
"Mmmm, hmm..." Niall moans around the spoon in his mouth as he leans over the table.
                          
~
                          
A few days go by before Niall actually considers the bakery to his left. He looks over at it after he stretches his back; twisting his arms at strange angles and making his bones crack.
                          
The windows are iced around the edges where the snow tries to cling on after the warmth of the bakery melts it off the center. Behind the company name of stick-on letters is an old woman leaning over the counter, handing a plate to a customer. Beside her is a tall boy who happens to look out the window once Niall turns away.
                          
~
                          
It's dusk when Niall leans the shovel against a pile of snow, rubs his hands together, and heads towards the bakery.
                          
He only takes two steps, though, before a muffled ding! is heard and a boy tries his hardest to walk fast down one of the paths Niall paved. He stops in front of Niall, his hair already dusted white, and Niall notices a steamy styrofoam cup in his hands.
                          
"Hello," Niall says after a moment, since all the boy’s doing is looking at him. And seeing him up close he gives calling him a boy a second thought.
                          
"Hi, you look cold." Is all he says.
                          
Niall's hands automatically go up to feel his cheeks; which he can't, since both his hands and face are numb. He can actually feel the redness of his nose, too, and for a fleeting moment he feels embarrassed. Too many thoughts go through his mind in the time it should take for him to reply, but by the time his hands leave his face the boy—guy? man?—is cocking his head towards the bakery, and Niall is already quietly following him.