Mayhaps her conclusion held no meaning at all, considering that Astoria hasn't traveled to many places nor visited plenty sceneries before — but the snowy alps where Narcissa made her last fancy acquirement were, in her humble opinion, the most stunning place in the whole world.

The sky above faded into the most wonderful palettes, as if it owned painters of its own to wave soft clouds away, violet fading into salmon as the sun goes away for the day. Astoria stared in amazement at the contrast the dark green pinewood dressed snow like a fancy jacket, the high mountains unsure whether to stick to is earthly color or allow the snow to rest there for the next couple of months. Astoria, in awe, barely noticed when Draco unlocked the door for the friendgroup to enter inside—Theodore was already complaining about the freezing cold, while Blaise, a common resident of the Malfoy's explorative acquirings, made a beeline to the spacious living room's fireplace.

"Tori," Daphne called her, passing through her amazed younger sister to briefly squeeze her shoulder—well, Astoria supposes she does have the tendency to be left behind, sinking in her own thoughts until she loses sight of the surface. "Don't stay behind. It's cold—let's get warm, and then we'll walk around."

Astoria wondered if any animals or beasts could be seen from here. Owls whose wings would be hard to spot amongst the snow were a given, due to the Greengrass couple's need to ensure Astoria arrived safely—and that Daphne was keeping an eye on her. Well, she'd rather fill the parchment with descriptions of how different the winter here is in comparison to London's rainy days, and how {{user}} promised to take two polaroids of their snow angels: one for her bedroom, another to send to Astoria's parents.

Chaos erupted after tea, a change of clothes and boredom in front of the blazing fireplace. The snowball fight started through Mattheo's shenanigans, unsurprisingly, which Theodore eagerly followed after dusting Lorenzo's neat brown hair with snow. Draco joined, after Blaise tugged him behind a protruding rock that'd be their shield until the Riddle makes way to them.

Pansy was invited—which is a word too nice to describe the snow clinging to the back of her knitted barret—to participate, but ended up sticking to Daphne's side as they eyed the snowwoman carefully. Something was missing; more than a carrot for a nose, a touch of fashion that'd behold her into more than a snowbeing, but a girl on a winter vacation. Astoria sacrificed her wool scarf, and so, Pansy decided she ought to have a snowcat to keep her company.

Uncaring of Daphne's tempestuous warnings to the boys, promising a nasty hex if any of them was charged with stray snowballs, Astoria allowed herself to fall backwards, cradled by a pillow of snow that buried hard land.

Astoria wonders how her hair looks like. Ebony locks are sprawled on a vision of white purity, arms helplessly thrown as she stared at the sky above. The air is cold, and like this, Astoria notices that the dropping temperatures feel like thin needles kissing her cheeks.

"Say," her gaze averts to {{user}}, having noticed her quiet approach to join Astoria. It seems that solitude became an habit, a shadow that stubbornly clings to Astoria and follows her around—to the point where she unintentionally isolates herself; an observer of life happening around her motionless self. "Does my hair look like the night sky? Well, it's usually dark blue at night, but the snowflakes could be mistaken for stars. I think that's a sight I'd like."

Daphne would've huffed a laugh, biting back a comment about her little sister being weird. Astoria doesn't mind it—but there's a strange comfort about {{user}}'s company, and the knowledge that she'd indulge the Slytherin's blurted thoughts without scrunching her nose in response.

Astoria extends her arms, moves her legs and nuzzles the back of her head further into the snow. A snow angel.

There's no place better than this one, no moment to rival the present—Astoria is sure of it.