Snowfall by evangeline

Rating: G
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 04/01/2004
Last Updated: 04/01/2004
Status: Completed

Hermione wakes up to the oddest phenomenon one Christmas Eve and decides to investigate, making
a friend in the process. Pre-Hogwarts. Challenge answer, sort of.




1. Snowfall
-----------



This is for sinta, who I luuuuuurve. She rocks it hardcore and says nice things to me and, well,
I'm a sucker for nice things. Anyway, here's a little one-shot for you and her, but mostly
for her. It's a challenge she issued absolutely eons ago that I'm not sure if anyone
answered.

This is, of course, the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and a million other people
by now. I don't own it. Not even a little. It's an alternative universe fic, obviously,
otherwise I couldn't get the details to work out. It's unproofed and, as always, written in
absolutely the middle of the night. I have to work in six hours, too. Bah.

My own stupid fault, really. Anyway, enjoy.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!

An ethereal glow emanated from somewhere outside her window - no, it wasn't the frosted
flakes that came from the sky, it was something extraordinary that the eyes of someone her age
would like to see but somehow, hardly ever did - it was. . .magic.

Nine year old Hermione Granger was constantly being told by her teachers at the private school
her parents sent her to that she was a sensible young girl, possibly able to grow up to be just
like them, upstanding members of the community her parents were getting ready to leave. Which
didn't explain her sneaking out of bed to get a glimpse of the Christmas tree her parents had
finished decorating that last Christmas Eve they were spending in their quiet town, but that was
okay. She hadn't really seen it yet, though, having been stopped as she crept across her room,
tripping over her Rainbow Brite doll.

For, outside her window, there was a strange glow and, in the middle of the air that appeared to
shimmer, there was a boy dancing in the snow. He wasn't anyone she'd seen before and she
wondered if she was imagining him. It was possible she was delirious from a lack of sleep, for what
was the snow was doing right around him couldn't be really occurring, so it was an altogether
likely chance, she thought, that he might not be real either.

After all, people could dance with the snow, but how often did the snow dance with them? And,
even her bright little brain had to acknowledge that the snow was swirling around him in a pattern
entirely unrelated to the rest of the snow outside his direct area. That was falling in gracefully
windblown sweeps, like snow was supposed to. But around the boy, who appeared to be her age, the
snow spun and whirled in a circle around him, like it was holding him. The strange glow that the
flakes seemed to be releasing was another question that she couldn't answer but was dying to
try to.

Hermione's natural instinct to find things out kicked in and she started formulating a plan
to get outside, to get to the bottom of things. What she was seeing simply didn't happen, not
even in the fairy tales her father read her as a child, before she declared herself too old for
them. Besides, the boy didn't even have a coat on! He'd catch his death in the cold British
night and the ever-sensible Hermione couldn't bear the thought of someone dying of exposure in
her front yard. Sliding into her galoshes and digging out her raincoat, she grabbed an extra coat
that had been her father's long ago and crept out her door. Slipping past her parents' door
like a little ghost, she tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step and breathing a sigh of
relief when she got the bottom. Feeling fairly safe, she snuck through the kitchen and living room
without a glance for the brightly lit tree, sliding open the front door, making sure it wasn't
going to lock behind her, and turning to face the bitter cold that she knew awaited her.

She wasn't disappointed as a cutting wind slid around her, seeming to find every seam in her
coat and bursting through it. Shivering, she resolved to find out what was going on with this
mystery boy and his magical snow as soon as possible so that she could return to her warm bed.
Stepping off the porch and looking about to make sure none of her neighbors were looking, she
thought it was safe to attempt to get his attention.

“Excuse me! Hello?” Seeing that he wasn't responding to her, she walked briskly towards him,
struggling to carry the extra coat in the harsh winter conditions.

Finally reaching his general vicinity, she stopped right outside where the snow started swirling
in a different direction. Instead of cutting where the wind was taking it, it was spinning, like a
little vortex. And, furthermore, she could feel that it wasn't as cold near him. Glancing at
the boy himself, she noticed first his piercing green eyes and his almost abnormally small frame,
engulfed in an old flannel and ragged jeans. He was oddly pale, and his black hair and green eyes
only set that off. Getting closer, she noticed a small scar over his eye.

He was lovely, she thought, in a frosty sort of way, all scars withstanding. Pale, wintery
beauty or not, though, he would probably freeze to death out here. Or at least that's what she
thought before she actually stepped into his. . .well, magical radius.

And that's where it stopped being December in Britain. For, inside his circle of dancing
snow, it was almost balmy. Hermione gasped in surprise as she felt the stinging air against her
face turn into an almost gentle breeze, just enough to keep the snow moving. And that gasp was
enough to draw the boy's attention, for he stopped waving his hands in the soft snow and
lowered his upturned head to stare at her.

“Oh.” He blinked at her, worriedly, looking quite silly in Hermione's opinion, considering
what was going on around him. “I'm sorry. Did I wake you?”

Hermione, decidedly confused and very out of her element, started at the boy's
polite-yet-concerned question. “N - no. . .I was going downstairs to look at. . .well, no, you
didn't wake me.” Stepping closer to him, she reached out and touched him, leaving her hand on
his arm.

“I'm sorry. I. . .I just didn't know if you were real. The snow, it's. . .I've
never seen anything like it, ever, not in a hundred snowy days. How is it. . .is it happening?”

He jumped a little at the contact before putting his hand over hers as if he was relishing the
gentle contact and smiling. “It really is happening. I don't know how. I snuck out, too, you
know, and I'm not sure how I managed that. But I did and I walked down here and felt that
things were different right here. I stopped here and the weather just sort of. . .went away.”

Hermione wrinkled her brow and, removing her hand from his arm, rubbed the back of her neck.
“But. . .that's not possible. Snow doesn't do this, it just isn't normal.”

The boy looked almost sad for a minute before he spoke, glancing at the spot where she'd
touched him so kindly. “No, it isn't. Sometimes things that aren't normal happen to me.
This is the best one yet, though, I think.”

He looked from under thick lashes at Hermione, who was taking off her coat and looking at him in
a concerned matter.

“Well. It really is this warm inside this. . .air pocket, I suppose it is. Hey,” she said,
noticing his sad look and reaching out to make contact with him, “are you okay? Do you live around
here?”

“I live on Privet Drive. My aunt and uncle live there. I hate them.” He said the last bit with
unexpected passion, looking at her as if he expected to her to be shocked and angry.

Hermione had been considering conducting a series of experiments to learn more about the snow,
but at this last forceful statement, simply reached down to make sure the snow was warm on the
ground and, find it was, sat down. Looking up at him, she gestured to the spot across from her. He
was obviously in some emotional distress, having wandered out into the snow alone like this, and it
was the least she could do, staying with him for a few minutes. Just as long as her parents
didn't wake up and decide to check on her. . .

“Well, sit down then.” She said this with every ounce of self-possession she had inside her tiny
frame. “You're not with them right now and the least we can do is enjoy it. It's quite
pretty, you know. It's not cold and the snowflakes are glowing. By the way, I'm Hermione.
Hermione Granger.”

Looking surprised that she didn't have a comment beyond that, the boy sat down in a somewhat
dazed manner. “I'm Harry. And the snowflakes are glowing. I've never been in the snow at
night. Usually I'm und. . .well, I'm inside. I've been out during the day, shoveling
the driveway clean, but it was never been like this.”

Hermione heard some of his hesitation and wondered if she should press him more, but as it was,
she just started to scoop some of the snow up and form it with her small hands.

“Let's build a snowperson. A small one, though, so it's not tall and maybe my parents
won't notice it in the morning. Start scooping the snow into a ball and I'll see what I
have to make it look like a person. Maybe it'll come to life.” Glancing at the biting wind
obviously howling a mere foot away from them, she muttered darkly that it wouldn't be the
oddest thing that happened tonight, but Harry didn't hear her, his bright eyes were busily
focusing on the snow that he was forming into a round ball.

Digging through her pockets she found a little pink kerchief she'd worn out on one
particularly windblown day and the extra buttons that went with her smart little raincoat. Briefly
she wondered what would happen if one of her current buttons fell off, but looking at the joy her
companion was feeling, decided the sacrifice was well worth it.

The two of them built their snowperson, chatting idly in the way that children who are, for
various reasons, not especially childlike will do. She learned that he lived with an aunt and an
uncle and a cousin, each sounding more horrible than the last. Wishing there was something that she
could do, she decided that the most she could do would be to make herself his friend on this cold
winter night. Hermione then asked about school, which seemed to be a neutral point and every once
in a while issued a command regarding the shape of their creation. Amazingly, happily, after a
while, the boy started to smile, hesitantly, like it was an unfamiliar motion.

Hermione couldn't help notice that he looked a lot more presentable when he smiled. It
seemed to reach every part of his face, making his formerly sad green eyes brighten even more,
making him seem far more childlike than the worried creature that had asked Hermione if he'd
woken her.

Soon enough, though, the snow person was finished and Hermione knew that she'd have to go
in. Her parents had, thankfully, stayed asleep, but she knew that if they woke up, she'd have a
most difficult task in explaining what she was doing outside with a strange boy in an even stranger
island of softly swirling snow.

Wordlessly standing up, she brushed the snow, little more than a coat of dust, off of her
pajamas and held out a hand to her new friend to help him up. Smiling more than a little sadly, for
he was a pleasant enough companion and she'd certainly never had any magical snow experiences
on her own, she waited until he was standing up, his head a few inches above hers before reaching
for her coat. She put it on, dawdling over doing up the buttons, not wanting to leave this odd boy
to the winter night.

“Harry. I'm sorry. I have to go back to bed now. If my parents wake up, they'll be
frantic with worry and I can't do that to them.” Hermione frowned a little, thinking of giving
up her new friend. She'd never done anything like this, sneaking out of bed, and she
couldn't help thinking that while she'd done it successfully this time, her parents could
decide they wanted a glass of water at any moment and she'd played in the snow long enough.

“I understand, Hermione,” Harry responded gravely, “your parents care about you very much.” He
seemed a little wistful at the prospect.

“Harry, I'm not sure if you figured it out, but you have someone who cares very much about
you, too, now.” With that she reached down and removed the soft kerchief from where they'd
placed it around the snowperson's neck. Pressing it into his hand, she reached up and kissed
him on his cheek.

“Think of me now and again, will you? I'll always remember you. Maybe we'll meet again
someday.” She reached up and touched where she'd kissed him briefly, wondering how she knew to
do this.

She turned around and walked away, thinking that she would've really loved to believe that
they would meet again, but January would see her and her parents moving to Surrey, where her
parents would join a new practice and she would start a new school. She'd been excited about
going to the exclusive private school, but turning to look at the boy behind her, his hand on his
cheek, she thought that she'd rather stay in dirty Little Whinging and go to, shudder to think,
public school than leave this new friendship behind.

Alas, our heroine was adult enough at nine to know that sometimes life goes in directions that
you can't control at the time. She briefly wished, startlingly self-aware, that she was child
enough to believe that such twists would bring her back the boy with green eyes.

And as the years went by, she dismissed the night as childish fantasy. Not bothering to
entertain the thought that it might have really happened, she let the incident slowly move to the
back of her mind, to be half-remembered in dreams and daydreams. She didn't even remember it
when she met a slightly familiar boy on her way to an even more interesting private school two
years later.

Strangely enough, though, when she settled into a four-poster bed in a castle far away from
Surrey and Little Whinging and her parents, she dreamed of lightly glowing snow and bright green
eyes.