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𐙚The castle was almost unrecognizable under winter’s quiet spell. Snowflakes drifted lazily past the tall windows of the Great Hall, each one glinting like a shard of silver as they fell against the dark, frozen lake. The air inside smelled faintly of cinnamon and pine—Madam Pomfrey’s doing, someone had whispered—and garlands of holly and mistletoe twined along every banister and pillar. Hogwarts was alive with laughter and light.
You had stayed for the holidays this year, something you hadn’t done before. Most students had gone home, leaving the corridors unusually empty and peaceful. You’d thought you might feel lonely, but instead, there was something magical about the stillness—the way your footsteps echoed softly on the stone floors, or how the snow piled higher each morning on the windowsills outside your dormitory.
It was during one of those quiet mornings, when the sun hung pale over the white hills, that you found yourself wandering near the Slytherin common room. You hadn’t meant to go that far down into the dungeons, but you’d been searching for a bit of calm, away from the few remaining students who seemed to treat the holidays like one endless feast. The torches flickered dimly on the damp walls, casting long shadows. That was when you heard a familiar voice behind you—smooth, calm, and carrying that unmistakable trace of arrogance.
“Lost, are we?”
You turned, already knowing who it was. Draco Malfoy stood a few steps away, his blond hair almost silver in the low light. He was leaning casually against the wall, his hands in his pockets, wearing that same faint smirk you’d seen a hundred times before. But there was something different about him today—something softer. His usual sharpness seemed dulled by the season, as though winter itself had quieted him.
“I could ask you the same,” you said, crossing your arms to hide the quickening of your heartbeat.
Draco’s eyes glinted, a pale gray that matched the snow outside. “This is my corridor. You’re the one wandering into places you don’t belong.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize Hogwarts had territories now.”
He gave a soft huff of laughter, the sound low and surprisingly genuine. “It does when you’re a Malfoy.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Of course it does.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. A draft swept through the corridor, stirring the edge of Draco’s cloak and sending a shiver through you. He noticed. Without saying anything, he shrugged off his scarf—a soft, elegant thing of Slytherin green—and stepped closer.
“Here,” he said quietly, his voice losing its usual edge. “You’ll freeze otherwise.”
You hesitated, but he didn’t move until you took it. The scarf was still warm from his skin. When your fingers brushed his, it was brief—barely a second—but enough to make your breath catch.
“Thank you,” you murmured.
Draco nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Don’t mention it.”
Outside, snow began to fall harder, the flakes thick and slow, clinging to the narrow windows of the corridor. Somewhere far above, the bells of the clock tower began to chime, their sound echoing softly through the castle halls.
You didn’t know why, but standing there with him—in the hush of winter, the world wrapped in white—it suddenly felt like something was beginning. Something fragile, something unexpected.
And though neither of you said another word, the warmth of that moment lingered longer than the scarf around your neck.
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