Prince of snakes | Dramione

Chapter 17

Outside, it was snowing. The first snowflakes were making their appearance, and the white glow cast an enchanted light over the secluded gardens of Hogwarts. The tiny frozen designs floated by the hundreds in the sky, eventually settling on the ground, awakening a thousand sensations in Hermione's heart. She couldn't believe she was here, in this place, with only Draco Malfoy for company. They had slipped away from the Great Hall, their stomachs too knotted to feel hungry. Perhaps it was the need to see each other that had driven them to hurry to the corner of the school's walls. There, thousands of trees coexisted with the environment, and silence quieted their fears.

They had been meeting in secret for two days, their eyes elsewhere, their hands buried in their jackets and their cheeks hot with embarrassment. Sometimes they didn't dare to discuss. They just looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, raised their eyebrows, and then ran away. Today was different. Draco, with the greatest discretion, had arranged to meet her at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, at the intersection of the remote gardens of the wizarding school, where the Hogwarts lake shone with a thousand lights. Without a sound, he asked her to close her eyes and the sweet autumn air changed into frosty, but gentle weather. Winter. The illusion of snowflakes escaping from Draco's magic wand, extended towards the sky, made her tremble with joy.

Sometimes, Malfoy was tender; at other times, he was abrupt. On this day, he was mysterious. His gaze fixed elsewhere, he observed the shimmering snowflakes above their heads, his face inscrutable. Almost instinctively, Hermione reached out her hand toward him, seeking to discover his vulnerabilities, his scars.

Under his touch, he lowered his unruly hair toward her and offered a faint smile. Hermione searched his eyes for an answer that never came. His stormy gray irises reflected only an insurmountable barrier.

"Who does the snow remind you of?" she asked.

"My mother," he whispered in reply.

He pursed his lips, as if trying to formulate his thoughts. She remained patient, her heart at the edge of her throat. It was a gateway, she could take the opportunity to find out more about the location of his family members, but she didn't have the strength. Her body tensed, she waited.

"When I was little and felt alone in Malfoy Manor, my mother had this habit of making the sky cringe by conjuring an arabesque snow. Just for me. Just for me."

He turned away and, lifting the phalanges of his fingers, he caught a snowflake that slipped against the palm of his hand and, upon contact with his skin, vanished.

"She used to tell me that the coldness of winter could remind me of the warmth of our souls. That even what seemed lost in our hearts could be revived by a touch as delicate as a snowflake."

He turned toward her, expressive eyes locking onto hers. Grasping one of her caramel curls between his fingers, he pondered.

"She sees beauty in all forms. Just like you."

Draco shook his head, releasing his hold on her hair, lips pursed.

"I find myself coming here sometimes, trying to understand what she could see. I try to grasp what eludes my gaze. But... even with my eyes open, I remain blind."

Hermione swallowed, suddenly choked with emotion. Unaware of her body, she leaned against his chest and played with his downy black coat.

"Perhaps it's not about seeing beauty, but about feeling it?" she whispered, finally meeting his gaze.

In turn, she extended one of her small hands to examine the snowflakes, her eyes shining. Malfoy watched her, throat tight.

"Maybe it's not about forcing things, but about letting go?"