tradition

~ 02

6TH YEAR

It was the first snowfall of December, and the world outside Hogwarts had transformed into a glistening wonderland, the kind of scene that seemed to belong in the pages of a storybook. The castle grounds stretched out beneath a soft, pristine blanket of snow, glimmering under the pale winter sun like a landscape painted in silver and white. The air buzzed with excitement as Gryffindors bustled about, tugging on scarves and cloaks, ready to embark on their eagerly awaited visit to Hogsmeade. Laughter and chatter filled the crisp air, students' voices carrying across the courtyard as they gathered in groups, eager to share the experience of the magical village in all its festive glory. 

Amid the joyful chaos, Briar and Harry lingered near the castle entrance, their breaths visible in the cold air as they exchanged a quiet glance. Their fingers brushed briefly—just enough to send a pleasant warmth through both of them—and in that unspoken moment, they decided to slip away from the crowd. While their friends planned bustling adventures in the shops and taverns of Hogsmeade, Harry and Briar sought something different: a peaceful escape from the whirlwind of noise and excitement, a chance to share the magic of the day in their own way.

As they crossed into Hogsmeade, the village unfolded before them like a dream, its charm amplified by the festive decorations that adorned every corner. Shopfronts glowed with the warm light of enchanted candles, their windows framed by garlands of holly that added splashes of vibrant green to the snowy streets. Twinkling fairy lights shimmered along the rooftops, weaving strands of gold and silver that reflected in the icy crystals of freshly fallen snow. 

Every detail of the scene seemed to radiate holiday cheer, from the jingling bells above doors to the faint strains of carols that drifted out from Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. Briar's eyes lit up as she took in the sights, her gaze darting from one beautifully decorated shop to the next, each new discovery sparking a smile of wonder. Harry walked beside her, his attention split between the festive surroundings and the joy on her face. To him, the decorations were lovely, but watching Briar's delight brought a warmth to his chest that no holiday display could match.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the street, swirling snowflakes around them like tiny, sparkling dancers. Briar shivered involuntarily, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill nipped at her cheeks and fingers. Harry noticed instantly, his brow furrowing in concern as he glanced at her. Without hesitation, he reached up and unwound the scarf from his neck, the bold red and gold stripes a reminder of their shared Gryffindor pride. Gently, he draped it around her shoulders, his fingers brushing against her hair as he adjusted it to keep her snug. The scarf carried the faint scent of him—clean and familiar, with a hint of the smoky warmth from the common room fireplace. Briar blinked in surprise at the gesture, her cheeks already flushed from the cold but deepening in color for an entirely different reason.

"You'll freeze," Briar protested, her voice light yet tinged with genuine concern as she instinctively pulled the scarf tighter around her neck. Its warmth was immediate, the soft fabric cocooning her against the biting chill of the December air. But it was more than just the scarf that brought a flush to her cheeks—it was the quiet thoughtfulness behind the gesture, the effortless way Harry always seemed to prioritize her well-being. She glanced up at him, her expression caught somewhere between gratitude and exasperation. It was such a typically Harry thing to do—selfless and unassuming, as if his own comfort mattered far less than hers. 

For a moment, words escaped her, leaving her instead with the unspoken acknowledgment of just how deeply she cherished his quiet acts of kindness. The snow continued to swirl around them, catching in her hair and settling on his shoulders, yet the cold seemed to fade into the background, eclipsed by the warmth of the moment. Briar wanted to tell him he didn't have to, that she didn't deserve the way he made her feel so cared for—but the look in his eyes, soft and steady, told her he wouldn't have it any other way.