|ALEXANDRIA WEASLEY'S P.O.V|
"Alex!"
The sound of a familiar, sharp voice was what woke me one morning in mid-December. The air's temperature had fallen noticeably in the girls' dormitories, despite the old furnace acting as a heat source in the middle of the circular room.
The small amount of my skin not covered by my four-poster's heavy blanket was chilled, riddled with goosebumps that I could feel and did not even need to open my eyes to know were there.
"Wake up!"
"What?" I questioned, my voice weighing with the same heavy sleepiness that was keeping my eyelids shut.
"It's snowing!"
"Really?" My eyes finally opened as I gently pushed Hermione away, so the two of us wouldn't bump heads in my haste to sit straight.
Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown, Hermione and I's other dorm-mates, were both still asleep in their own beds — not bothered in the slightest by our loud conversation.
I hurried to stand, my socked feet hitting the chilly wooden floorboards and making little noise as I slipped across it to the window a few feet away.
The brunette had been correct; the courtyard was indeed covered in a thick white blanket of snow, at least several feet high. Not one bit of greenery was to be seen, even the Black Lake was frozen solid with a grayish hue. Despite the heavy amount of snow we had already received, flakes still fluttered from the clouded sky beautifully.
"We should go out," Hermione appeared at my side, sitting gently on the blanket-covered window seat. "It is Saturday, no lessons."
"Out in the snow?"
"Well, yes," She laughed, patting down her mass of bushy hair. "My family and I do it all the time —"
"Fred and George are dangerous with snowballs, so Mum doesn't allow us out with them," I told the girl, my blue eyes fixated on the pure sight through the ice-clouded glass. "They hit Ron with a ball of ice and made him cry once, when we were younger."
"Well, I won't hit you with any ice."
"I didn't say you would, 'Mione."
And so, still adorned in my pajamas, I could be seen leaving the dormitory and descending the girls' staircase into the common room. It was empty, as it was still quite early in the morning (especially for a Saturday, when the students took their opportunity to sleep in and have breakfast later), and the only noise to be heard was the roaring fire.
I climbed the boys' staircase, two steps at a time. However, I almost slipped, and I had to quickly hang onto the railing with fear in my eyes as I almost fell back down the height I had just climbed.
Once I had recovered from the scare, I continued the rest of the way to the top, properly and carefully. I entered the long hallway, one that matched the girls', and I counted along the doors until I read my twin brother's name upon one sign.
He was roomed with Harry Potter, his best mate, and three other boys I scarcely remembered: Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas.
I straightened my pajamas, which I now embarrassingly noticed had little hearts sewn into them by my mother. With my cheeks flushed pink, a light colour that matched the hearts on my clothes, I rose my pale fist to pound on the wooden door in front of me.
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