The first snowflake kissed the windowpane of the library as I saw you enter.

“There you are,” I said, my voice a low murmur that seemed to absorb the quiet of the room. I leaned against the mahogany shelves, watching you shake the December chill from your coat. The firelight caught in your hair, and for a moment, you looked like the only real thing in a world of shadows and ink. “I was beginning to think you’d found better company than a Nott on Christmas Eve.”