Dandelions

FROSTBITTEN AND SMITTEN

It really depends on where someone is in the wintertime that defines their opinion of it. London has more slush and brown snow, barely as picturesque as people make it out to be--then there's the further countryside with sprawling fields covered in frost with snowflakes dancing in the air. Hogwarts, situated in a small, hidden pocket of Scotland, was closer to the latter. Heaps and heaps of snow threatened to drown the castle and make sure nobody ever found the body, covering every surface it could sink its claws into with gusto. There wasn't even a point in entertaining the idea of going outside without four layers on, and even then all the heat would be sucked out of your body within a matter of seconds.

Christmas day was no different, with snow falling quietly outside the castle and grumbling at the active fireplaces roaring within the walls of Hogwarts. Only a handful of students were staying over the holiday, all still tucked into their beds as the snow continued to pile against the doors. Hogwarts had spared no effort when decorating for the holiday, and Christmas trees dotted corners with garlands strung overhead with reckless abandon. One would think they let the students themselves throw decorations all over the corridors as they pleased, but Rory had always imagined that it was drunken professors giggling in the dead of night as they swung their wands across the air haphazardly.

The dorm that the Weasley twins, Rory, and Lee shared was quiet in the early morning light--the embers of a fire crackling softly in the wood burning stove in the center of the room. Fred's snores were mostly smothered by his pillow, and Rory felt the stir of a cold wind from the window against his fingers. The sunbeams that shone between the messily pulled curtains of the several four-poster beds tickled his nose as he woke up silently, blinking in the dusty air of Gryffindor Tower.

"Hmm," he grumbled as he became cognizant, stretching his limbs against his tiredness as he broke free. He groggily looked around the room, eyes darting across Lee's empty quarter and lingering on the sleeping lump that was George for just a little too long.

"Rory?" Came a groggy voice from George's quarter of the room, "Is that you? Are you up?"

"Yeah," he mumbled in reply, "Have you been awake long?"

George only let out a sigh, stretching his arms into the air. He still neglected to answer Rory's question as he patted the spot beside him on his bed, his eyes watching Rory tiredly, but expectantly. Rory wasn't about to decline the offer, though, no matter how confused the redhead had made him in the past few weeks. The hot and cold behavior had shockingly dissolved the closer to holiday break they had grown, and had almost completely dissipated with the daily activities they'd busied themselves with instead of classes.

Rory had hesitantly welcomed George right back up onto the pedestal he'd accidentally let the boy step up on.

It had been a good amount of time since George and Rory had been the only ones away in the morning, listening to Fred snoring and watching as the amount of light in the room steadily grew over the hours. It had been too long since Rory had a whispered conversation with George about little things, and felt their limbs press against each other under the heavy quilt that George always brought from home for the winter months.

"Did you really stay over the holiday because Fred and I weren't leaving?" George whispered, his fingers playing with a frayed thread.

"Who told you that?" Rory breathed out suddenly, feeling his heart begin to thud heavily in his chest.

"Maggie mentioned it before she went home..."

Rory was going to lose it. Why would Maggie tell him that? Hadn't she been on Rory's side in this whole thing, this whole time? If George had been told that, what else had he been told? The room felt too silent all of a sudden, and every dust particle seemed to slow in the air, time slowing down just to prolong Rory's anxiety.