On the silent wings of winter, snow fell from the heavens, accumulating below until a field of white covered the ground, which sparkled like millions of diamonds in the morning light. Resting beneath a tree, Harry Potter watched the water crystals glide through air before ending their long journey to earth. His minds was so focused on the snow, he didn’t hear the sounds of feet walking across the snowy field.
“So zis is where you have been hiding?”
With a small smile, Harry turned back to see his wife, Fleur Delacour, walking towards him. For the umpteenth time since they first met, he lost cogent thought to her ethereal beauty. Her silver hair lay perfectly combed, falling down her back in silky tresses, while her cherry red lips curled slightly at the corners, seeing her husband dazzled by her.
“It’s quiet, you and I both know we could use some quiet,” he stated plainly when he regained the ability to think. Since the birth of their daughter, Lilienne, the couple had had little peace raising the girl,who seemed to have an infinite supply of energy and a taste for destruction. Fleur always said she was like Gabrielle in that regard, if not worse.
Graceful as always, she lowered herself beside Harry, leaning her head against his shoulder, basking in their shared warmth. His arm wrapped around her waist pulling her closer.
“So any plans for today?”
“Non. I was zinking we drop Lilienne at mes parents. Enjoy a nice date. Maybe more.”
Harry let out a sigh of contentment as she began tracing indistinct patterns on his hand which sent tingling sensations all up his arm.
“I think…” he paused to kiss her hand, inspiring a small purr, “that’s a great idea.”
“Great minds zink alike Monsieur Potter.”
“Indeed they do Mrs. Potter.”
Saying nothing else, the two got up and prepared for the day ahead. Breakfast required making as well as the waking up of their daughter who, if given the chance, would sleep all day. Harry guessed she got that trait from her mother’s side.
Once inside, he began the trek to his daughter’s room, up a flight of stairs, and down a hallon the second story of his home. The whole house had a distinctly French feeling with the wallpaper and some of the furniture, which Fleur had picked out. Decorating wasn’t really Harry’s things, but he did help with some of the selections.
Knocking on his daughter’s door he began, “Lilienne. Wake up, darling. It’s time to get up.”
Silence.
With a sigh, Harry opened the door to see his daughter wrapped in her blankets like an oversized burrito. Only small portions of her silver hair stuck out of the wrap; every other part of her was hidden beneath her covers.
Chuckling at his daughter’s antics, he walked over to her and tried to remove part of her sheets, only to be met with a growl.
“No. Zey stay!” she replied, her English accent disappearing. Much like Fleur, she had a tendency to revert back to a French accent when angry. Of course, his wife also tended to do that when in the throes of pleasure.
“Come on Lily. It’s time to wake up.”
“No! Eet’s too cold!”
He paused briefly to think over what to do next. He smirked with what he came up with.
“Shame, I guess your mother and I will have to eat all the chocolate croissants we made,” Harry stated, hoping the possible loss his daughter’s favorite food would get her out of bed.
There was a sudden disruption in the mass of sheets. Harry had chosen the perfect words. Within seconds she was out of her wrap, only a blur of silver and baby blue.
The rest of the morning passed in relative peace, the only disruption coming when Lilienne tried to warm up by setting her pajamas on fire.
Following the usual morning routines and the subsequent dropping off of Lilienne with Fleur’s parents, the two decided for their first date in over a year they would try to go skating at the local park. For the holidays, a skating rink had been set up on the usually tranquil and peaceful meadows. The lamps which lay along paths were festooned with holly and wreaths, as well as some Christmas lights hanging in the trees. The rink itself, nothing more than an opened air box with glass walls, lay in the middle of the park, serving as the convergence point of all the festive decor. A small shack stood next to it, with the words “Les Patins à Glace de Location” painted on a sign atop it. After paying for their skates, the two entered the rink arm in arm, until Harry’s sense of balance gave way.
He rose up. And fell again. And again.
“Come on mon amour, eet is not so hard.”
“Easy for you to say...aah!” Harry yelped.
“Mon dieu, do you need my help?”
She didn’t hear much other than some mumbling from her frustrated husband. She couldn’t help but giggle at watching him stumble and fall once more. More mumbling followed.
“I’ll take zat as oui,” she said offering him her hand, which he reluctantly took.
“Place your hands here,” Harry’s arms wrapped around her waist as if they were dancing “et follow mon lead.”
Gently, she placed her arms around his neck, and they started to move across the ice. They were slow, barely floating across the ice beneath as a random Christmas song played from the speakers above. For them, the world seemed to fall away as they got lost in each other and the sensations of being so close.
They never got tired of the feeling despite being together for so long.
“You learn fast mon amour.”
“Nice of you to notice.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself. I wonder wat would happen eef I were to…” she slowly disentangled herself from him, watching as his balance once again began to fade. His face paled before latching on to Fleur and whispering in her ear.
“If I go down, you’re coming with me.”
“You wouldn’t!”
Harry grinned, pure mischief in his eyes. “Try me.”
“You win zis, but keep eet up, and you’ll sleep on zee couch.”
He chuckled lightly before nodding, knowing from experience his wife would never willingly give up her human pillow.