Never Leave Like That Again

As the fire crackled behind him, Draco stared out the window at the falling snow, strikingly white against the night sky of December at Hogwarts. It fell in fat flakes, and gave the illusion of an approaching meteor shower: beautiful and destructive.

The fire snapped loudly and Draco pulled his knees to his chest, letting the fleece blanket that had been covering him slide to the floor. Christmas music played softly on the stereo, and as the song switched to “Baby, Please Come Home,” Draco sighed discontentedly.

In his not-so-humble opinion, the snow was cold and a hassle to walk through. Christmas music was repetitive and overplayed. Winter meant nothing but short, useless days and big puffy coats that you could barely fit through the halls in. Draco had forgotten how much he hated this time of year.

This is because last year, winter had a different meaning. The snow had not been grave, but rather an uplifting reminder of the aimless wonder in the world. The sound of Christmas music had meant comfort, and was all the warmth you needed. But most of all: winter meant seeing her smile.

Last year was the best winter Draco had ever experienced, and that was all thanks to her: Mallorine. She opened his eyes in so many ways during that time, but none more than showing him the beauty of a winter wonderland. They had baked cookies, playfully fighting with flour, just days after her early December birthday. He had watched her clumsily flop to the ground, letting the snow seep through her jeans, just so she could make an angel in the freshest sheet of snow. Every image that crossed his mind of last winter reminded Draco of a snowflake: indistinguishable at a distance, blending to form a perfect blanket of memory, but individually, no two the same, each and every one special and unique.

Now, sitting in his house, alone, on Christmas Eve, was a painful reminder to Draco that it was no longer last year. She had graduated since then- moved on to a new chapter in her life. She was probably working in London right now, happily, watching the snow fall as well on the city streets. He sighed again. As much as Draco loved Mallorine, he knew that’s where she belonged. It’s what she had worked so hard for, and he had known from the start it would be hard. He knew he would never be able to, nor have the heart to, make her to stay. Take a job she didn’t want, settle in a suffocating little town that could never contain her, just so she could be with him. So he played the part of the supportive boyfriend back home: always thinking about her, wishing her well while secretly willing her home. He couldn’t help it. He loved her.

The door to the common room swung open. Another sugar-highed first year, Draco supposed. He sighed, not bothering to get up and turn around. They’d get the idea to just leave him alone.

But the sound of little feet escaping up the stairs didn’t follow. Draco was too forlorn to be annoyed. Instead, he swung his feet onto the hard wood floor and padded over to the little hallway that separate the Slytherin Common Room from the door.

When he turned the corner, he didn’t see a small child holding a book of Christmas hymns, nor a group of first years clutching candy canes, but rather a petite young woman in a familiar red peacoat and black scarf. Her long, black hair was dusted with snow, and her freckled cheeks were rosy. The soft smile she wore reminded Draco of everything beautiful about winter. Mallorine. Draco stared at her as if she were a mirage.

“Happy Christmas,” she whispered, breaking him from his trance. In her bare hands she held a small, fragile plant: Mistletoe.

Draco slowly cupped her delicate jaw in his hands. She leaned into him and Draco breathed in her signature scent of vanilla and lilac.

After they kissed, Draco looked deeply into those eyes and whispered softly, “’never leave like that again.”