A Stroll About Snow Strewn Grounds by Jair

It was a cold night. Coldest night that year, in fact, and the year was nearly out. Christmas Eve. The snow had started as an almost unobtrusive presence; drifting down in the failing light of day, glinting like shards of shattered glass. But soon, the flakes turned large and fat, blanketing the grounds of the castle.

Justin headed out into the snow shortly after dinner, only to find he was not alone. Sitting on the steps of the castle entrance, bundled up what looked like more than one layer of cloaks, was Neville Longbottom. He didn't seem to notice Justin, intent as he was on catching the snowflakes on his tongue.

"Oh, hullo," Justin said, hoping he didn't startle the other lad. But Neville, for his part, was rather startled. After the sounds of silence overlaid by the chorus of wind, a human voice, even one as gentle and musical as Justin's, was enough to cause him to whirl around, his hand halfway to his wand pocket.

Neville smiled sheepishly when he realized that it was Justin, and blinked away a particularly large snowflake that had decided to make a home of his eyelashes. "Oh. Hi, Justin."

Justin nodded. "I simply was coming out for a bit of a stroll after dinner. The school is rather empty..." He trailed off, looking around. This was empty, he decided, looking at the silent, snow-covered ground.

"Isn't it?" Neville agreed, getting to his feet.

"Indeed it is. Hardly anyone's stayed. How many did you count at dinner? Myself, I counted fourteen."

"Oh, I...didn't really count, but, I'm sure it was something close to that..."

Justin started walking slowly down the steps, looking back for a moment at Neville. "Did you want to walk with me?"

"...sure." Neville made his way down the steps to catch up with Justin.

Justin smiled quietly, thoughtful for a moment. He had to slow his steps for Neville, whose shorter legs had more difficulty navigating the snow than did his own, longer ones.

"I suppose," Justin said at last, "that everyone is having that feeling. Last holiday spent with relatives and all that."

Neville had never really thought of it that way. He just thought everyone went home because they felt safer there. "Why don't you feel that way?" He asked, neatly avoiding the question of why he himself didn't.

"Why should I?" Justin asked, turning his head to look at Neville. As he spoke, the one corkscrewing curl of hair that stuck out the front of his cap swayed this way and that, caught by the wind. "I may be a muggleborn, and yes, maybe that makes me some sort of target, especially here in Narnia." He smiled a bit at Neville's confused look at the term, but didn't pause to explain. "But honestly, I think the fear is a bit misplaced. If everyone were here, Voldemort might try something. With everyone gone, there's no reason to do anything." He shrugged. "And anyway, if I'd gone home, I'd miss Christmas dinner here tomorrow and that would be a true shame."

Neville flinched at the name. He always did. When Justin finished speaking, however, he could only stare. "But...the war!" Justin just seemed so...flippant about the whole thing. He didn't understand it at all.

Justin gave him a curious sort of look. "What about it?"

"Don't you feel some sort of responsibility? Some...some...I don't know."

"Duty? A need to fight for the side of what is right and good?"

"Yeah! I mean, you joined Dumbledore's Army..."

"Look, Neville. At first, it was more self-preservation than anything. I don't want to fight if I don't have to. And anyway, how could I, if I'd gone home for the holidays? I'd be stuck on the other side of the wardrobe while everything happened here."

Other side of the what? "Who does?" Neville asked after another moment. "Like to fight, I mean."

"People like Potter, I suspect," Justin answered with a shrug.

Neville might not know the entire story, but he knew that was far from true. "No he doesn't," he said defensively. "I think he hates it."

Justin nodded slowly. "A sense of duty. I can respect that."

"If anyone deserves respect, it's Harry," Neville said absently.

Justin nodded again, and walked in silence a moment. "Why do you fight, Neville?"

Neville had been hoping to avoid that question. He didn't have a good answer for it. "I, uh...dunno, really. I guess...I just...it just seems to happen to me. The need to fight. Um...to stay alive, I guess."

"Same with me, I suppose. I just..." He paused, looking off at something it appeared only he could see. "...don't want to end up petrified again. Or worse, dead."

"There are things worse than death, you know," Neville said, then wished he could take the words back.

"The way you say that gives me such a chill, Neville!" Justin exclaimed. "Or, perhaps it is the snow. My cloak isn't thick enough for this stuff. Perhaps we should go in?"

Neville, for his part, was glad that Justin hadn't gathered the meaning from his words that he'd been dreading he would. "You go ahead," he said softly, standing still and looking out across the grounds. "I like watching the snow fall."

"I've never really paid attention," Justin said, stopping to stand at his side.

"Why not?" Neville asked, open curiosity on his round face.

Justin shrugged. "Don't know. I just never have. It's just snow, after all. Here one day, gone the next. Only so much inconsequential fluff."

"I think it's beautiful."

Justin was silent a moment, deep in thought, watching the snow and trying to find its beauty. Neville looked back at him. "Why are you still here? I thought you said you were cold."

Justin remained quiet for another short while, before opening his mouth to ask, "Why did you say that?"

Neville's eyebrows rose in question. "About the snow being beautiful? Well, I dunno, really. It just is."

"No, not that." Justin shook his head. "The other thing."

"About it being cold? I think you've confused me..." Neville had a good idea what Justin was asking about, but instead of blurting it out, he'd rather Justin would ask, in case he was wrong.

"No. The other...other thing. About...things that are worse than death."

Neville sighed inwardly. "Oh, well, I suppose I only said that because I sort of...know."

"How do you know about such things?"

"My...my parents," He thought if he told enough people, that maybe one day, this would all be easier. But it never was. "I didn't go home, because if I did, I'd have to visit them."

"Don't you want to see them? Granted, I don't always get on well with Mother, but I do enjoy her company..." Justin stopped. This wasn't supposed to be about him.

"I don't want to see them, no," Neville said, in a final sort of way.

"Why not?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Neville returned, sounding a bit impatient.

"Naturally curious, I suppose," Justin said, flashing him a grin.

The grin really was open and friendly. Neville took a breath. He was in Dumbledore's Army with Justin, after all. He could trust him, he was sure of it. He drew a breath. "...they're in St. Mungo's," Neville said, flatly.

This revelation caused Justin's eyes to widen. "Heavens, why?"

Neville was quiet, fighting for self-control. Just mentioning that much brought a flood of memories. The earliest visits, when his parents weren't always so quiet. When his father, maddened like an animal, had wrapped fingers around Neville's throat. He'd blacked out before the orderlies could pull Frank off of him...

"...I'm sorry," Justin said softly.

"It's okay," Neville said, an almost automatic response. But he was thinking about how his parents seemed to age unnaturally quickly, how they'd all but stopped speaking...

"...really, I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, really, don't worry about it." How his box, under his bed, was all but bursting with bubble-gum wrappers and scraps of paper that his mother had given him over the years...

"Yes, but..."

"I said I'm fine!" Neville burst out, and started to stalk back toward the castle. But, the snow was thick, and his progress poor.

"No...you're not," Justin said, and after wringing his hands in his gloves for a moment, he followed, catching up easily. He placed a hand on Neville's shoulder to stop him, made him turn around. "Look, you...oh dear. Don't do that," He said quietly. "It'll freeze right to your cheeks..."

Neville looked at him, red-eyed and sorrowful. It reminded Justin of a basset hound puppy he'd once seen one of his cousins with. He took a slow breath of the sharp, icy air. "Come here. Neville..." He held out his arms, and Neville dropped gratefully into the embrace, sobbing against his shoulder. Justin wasn't so sure why he was doing this, but for the fact that it needed to be done. "It'll be all right," he said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

"...how do you know," Neville asked with a sniffle.

"I don't," Justin replied honestly. "Perhaps it is just a bit of wishful thinking on my part."

"And what if it's not all right?" Neville pulled away, but not far enough to leave the warmth of Justin's arms.

"If it's not? Well, I don't know, I suspect," Justin said, removing one of his gloves to gently wipe away the tear trails on Neville's cheeks.

"But, you've got enough hope that things will turn out all right?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Justin said with a small smile.

Neville smiled a bit in return. "You didn't answer my last one."

"Do I have enough hope? I suppose that I do." He shrugged.

"Spoken like a true optimist," Neville pointed out. Justin's fingers were soft on his cheek, if cold. It was only then that he'd realized that Justin hadn't bothered to move them after he'd wiped the tears away.

"I suppose I am, a little bit," Justin said, with a soft sigh.

"Why? I mean, how can you be? Everything bad that's going on..."

"I suppose I only am because I've got that hope. That good will prevail and that we can rise above all this, that one day, the world will go back to the way it was."

"Do you really believe that?" Neville asked, awed.

"I have to. Sometimes hope is all we have."

"And...what, you know. If it doesn't all work out?"

"I think for the most part, I'm avoiding thinking about what happens, if it does not."

They were both silent a moment. Justin still had one arm around Neville, and one hand on his cheek. He really couldn't devise a way to remove them that didn't seem cold or impersonal, so he stood that way until Neville decided he would extricate himself. Which, for Neville's part, he wasn't really inclined to do. Justin was warm, in the cold night. "...you smell good."

"What?" Justin gave a start. He'd been watching the snow again, still trying to figure out what it was that Neville liked about it. A flake landed on Neville's cheek, and he covered it with his fingers, feeling it grow warm and melt against his skin.

"I'm sorry, I mean...no, I mean that you smell good."

"I...erm...do?"

"Yes." Neville nodded in a matter-of-fact way. "Did you think I could stand here, this close to you, and not notice?"

"Oh, goodness!" The full impact of what he was actually doing hit Justin, and he pulled away, awkwardly. "I'm so sorry! I did not mean to overstep my bounds here."

"Justin! Wait...wait. It's...all right, you know." Neville was disappointed, and his face showed as much.

Justin shook his head apologetically. "But, I did not mean to...oh, dear. Please, do forgive my presumptiveness..." Formality was his one comfort in awkward situations, and he clung to it here, feeling that he was falling into a situation that he knew he couldn't control.

"It's all right. Really." Neville took a cautious step forward.

"I just...you looked so...vulnerable. I only wished to comfort you..."

"You were doing just fine..." Neville tried to interject, but Justin continued to speak right over him.

"...I did not mean to give the impression that I was attempting to..."

"Stop." Neville took another step forward, but the words continued to pour from Justin's mouth.

"...take advantage of that vulnerability in any way whatsoever. You really must excuse me now. I'm afraid I've made a dreadful fool of myself..."

Neville took a final step, and held cold hands to Justin's cheeks. Justin was shocked into silence for the briefest moment before Neville pulled his lips down to his own, and gave him a quick kiss. He released Justin and stumbled a half-step back, looking quite shocked and dazed at what he'd just done.

Justin's mouth worked, and nothing came out. His throat was dry, his eyes wide, staring back at Neville.

Neville was the first to find his voice. "You...wouldn't stop talking."

Justin blinked.

"And," Neville continued, "I think that...well, I don't know. I just...that's..."

"That's...that's one way to...to get your point across, I suspect," Justin finished with a hoarse voice.

"I, um, I guess it's my turn to apologize..."

"N-no!" Justin said quickly. He didn't think something as nice as all that warranted apology. "You do not need to! It's just that I have never...I mean that nobody...has ever..."

"I haven't either, I just...I really don't know why I did...or if I even did it right..."

"Oh, I don't know. I suppose...that you did it well enough. That is...it was...nice, yes."

"Really?" Neville smiled, almost shyly, and his cheeks were tinged red with something more than the cold.

"Yes...I...forgive me. I am not usually this...tongue-tied."

"I'm not normally so...forward. I don't really know what came over me, really, except that I didn't want you to leave."

"...oh. Did you think I would...?"

"Yes, I...you seemed like...you were going to run off in shame, or, something."

"Oh. Not...well, perhaps not any longer, no," He smiled sheepishly.

"Did you want to...go in? Get some hot cocoa and talk some more?"

"I think...that's a smashing idea, Neville," Justin grinned at him. Another snowflake drifted down between them, landing on Neville's nose.

Justin stepped forward, brushing it away. "Before we do..."

"...yeah?" Neville was sure his heart skipped a beat at the sound of promise in Justin's voice.

Justin leaned in, his eyes sliding shut as he pressed a soft kiss to Neville's lips, then pulled back, still smiling.

"...goodness, wow," Neville finally managed.

Justin smiled a moment, then grasped Neville's hand in his own, starting to walk slowly back toward the castle. "And there is not even mistletoe," he mused, smiling.

To Neville, the handholding was as much of a shock as everything else that had just happened. "Does there have to be?"

"No," Justin replied softly.

This Christmas, Neville realized, would be different. It would be full of warmth, rather than its usual chill. The cold, antiseptic corridors of the hospital, his grandmother's cold demeanor, his parents' cold hands. Even out here in the snow, he knew that. Because Justin's hand in his own was as real as the snow that swirled with the whim of the wind. And it was warm.

"You know, Neville," Justin said thoughtfully as he twined his fingers with Neville's. "I think I've found the beauty in the snow after all..."