Halloween came and went, the feast as good as ever, and the Three Broomsticks trip was being set in motion. The whole ordeal was a little nerve racking.

    For starters, I wasn't sure what exactly was expected at this occasion. Was it a party? Was it just dinner? Would it be expected to talk to other people, running with my party theory? Too many variables -- I'd really just rather stay inside, in the warm comfort of the common room.

    Then of course there was the whole Draco aspect. Whether this was just a dinner or a party (I strongly suspected the latter), it would be a different environment than I was used to being with him in. If I was around him, it was usually at dinner (both of us contently eating and focused on our plates) or in the Common Room (both of us fixated on something, a textbook, a homework assignment -- something quiet and singular, not a group activity), not at a party.

    The whole thing was foreign.

    Nevertheless, I was going to go for two primary reasons, one, of course, being Draco asked me, he wanted to go and I wasn't about to stand him up. The other part, manifesting from the petty side of me, was to seize this opportunity to prove to Pansy she doesn't scare me.

If I didn't go, then she would see it as a victory, her intimidation had worked, and I'd flaked. That was not happening.

    So it was Saturday, and I still had to muster up something to wear, my dilemma of the lacking solidity of the theme of said event still proving to be an issue. I settled on a black sweater; you could never go wrong with black, or sweaters (Daphne logic).

    At six o' clock exactly (I didn't want to stand around waiting if I was early, or come running down in a hurry if I was late) I left my lonely dormitory, walking into the Common Room.

It seemed every Slytherin was in there at that moment, but I found Draco sitting near the windowsill in the corner of the full room.

    He smiled softly when he saw me, and stood.

    My heart was racing; why was my heart racing? What was wrong with me? I was used to a weary heartbeat, jumpy and erratic, always clopping too slow or pouding violently by the slightest effort. But this was not permitted -- I hadn't ran, or jumped, or gone too far out of my regular snail's pace -- nothing to insult my illness. Yet there it was, the rapid rattling of my heart.

    And my hands -- they were shaking. The tips of my fingers down to the base of my palm, stopping at my wrist. The sound of my breathing was magnified in my throat, filling my ears. What was wrong with me?

    Kids were filing out of the passage into the hallway, emptying the Common Room slightly.

    "Ready?" He said. I nodded with a simple smile, internally willing myself to cut it out with the nervousness.

    "D'you think all these kids are going?" I said, once we were outside and could still see the cluster of green scarves ahead of us.

    He nodded, and said, "Yeah, I suppose so. Pansy said a bunch of people were."

    Just the mention of her name gave a slight narrowing to my eyes, an instinctual reaction. He noticed, and snickered. We walked side by side, and my eyes lingered on him as he laughed and after, a smile on my face. I turned away when he turned toward me.

    When we entered the Three Broomsticks, I put a mental check mark on an imaginary field journal; my hypothesis was indeed correct, this was a party, or atleast party-esque.

    Kids bearing all different house-scarves were laughing and talking. Fiddles served as music, and clicking and clacking of butterbeer cups adorned the air. Friends and couples were dancing merrily in the cleared center of the floor. It was warm, with warm light, and a warm feeling.

Maybe I just wasn't a warm person, because the sight of the fun and joy these people were partaking in filled me with feelings of unease. I should've stayed in the Common Room.

When I looked over at Draco, a nice surprise befell me. His expression mirrored mine: eyes slightly widened, lips parted in a pursed 'o', brows furrowed just slightly. He was uncomfortable too.

He realized I was looking at him, and his face was wiped blank of an expression for a second, perhaps trying to read mine.

I half grinned and nudged him, motioning to the door with my head, lowering one eyebrow. He nodded a 'yes', his nose slightly scrunched.

Outside, the cool air hit me in a gust of quiet, creating a barrier from the loud warmth of the Three Broomsticks, my hair blowing in a wave behind me.

"Not one for a party?" I said through a smile.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "No, 'fraid not," he said.

"Neither am I --" but my train of thought was interrupted by a snowflake falling on my nose. The first snow of the year. Draco held up his hand palm-up to feel the snow.

It started coming down a bit faster. He smiled at me and said, "So where do you want to go?"

"Um. . . ." I shrugged, but motioned him to follow. I wasn't sure where I was going, but something about the thought of walking in the light snowfall was alluring. Normally I didn't like the cold, or snow, or really anything 'outdoorsy', but here I was, not wanting to be anywhere else.

He followed.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked.

"What?" I said, pulling on my Slytherin scarf so it was nice and snug around my neck.

He shrugged. "There's a lot I don't know about you, like. . ." he looked around as if searching for a question, "What's your. . .  I dunno, favorite color?"

"Hm -- " I was about to answer when I realized I didn't have a favorite color, not really.

I guess my face looked disturbed, because he asked, "What?"

I pursed my lips. "You had to start with such a difficult one?" I said and smiled. It was a joke, but I was actually having an identity crisis. Okay, maybe not an identity crisis, but still.

"Hmm, I guess" -- green, I was about to say, but my mouth said something before my brain could decipher it -- "silver. Is that even a color?"

"It counts," he said.

I didn't know I liked silver, and I wasn't sure why I'd said it, but before I could think on it, I was talking again. "What's yours?"

"Green, I guess," he said.

"Okay, how about. . . what's your favorite sweet?" I asked.

"Chocolate frogs." He nodded

"Uh-uh, Pepper Imps all the way," I said.

"Eh, no, no way. You get a card with chocolate frogs, so even when the chocolate's gone, you still have something," he said.

"Yes, but do you get the utter satisfaction that only Pepper Imps can provide?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised, and said, "You're mental."

"Probably."

We passed a few kids making a snowman, albeit a very small and melty one considering the consistency of the snow, and wrapping a Ravenclaw scarf around its lopsided neck.

"Hm, favorite animal?" He said.

"Umm, I dunno. I mean, I had an owl, Reinaldra, but I guess she died, because one day she never came back. I suppose I like cats alright -- but Hestia had one in our dorm and apparently I'm allergic so. . . . anyway, what's yours?"

"Anything but ferrets." At first I thought he was joking, but he said it so solemnly that I halted the smile curling my lips.

"Wha-why? OH! Is it because people started calling you ferret fac- oh I'm sorry I --" I said, realizing it was probably rude to mention that.

"No, well yeah, I mean -- I just-don't like them." One day, I would demand he tell the whole story, and I was about to ask when I did something embarrassing. What's new?

There was a piece of the stone ground that wasn't dusted in the fresh snow, but instead sheathed by a patch of ice.

"WOAH!" I said, losing my balance like an idiot, my feet coming out from under me. My body was at a 135 degree angle, my hair hanging in dark curls straight out under me, when I stopped falling.

I opened my eyes, which I hadn't realized were closed. Draco's one hand was holding mine, his other wrapped around my waist.

By Merlin --

I've embarrassed myself plenty, but this? Why was I even surprised I'd done this? Honestly -- what use was being shocked?

I was beet red, and my stomach rebounded up to my throat, a delayed rush of adrenaline. Heat waved over me as it always does when my breath was bated with fear, when I'm about to fall or drop something, or anything of the sort.

I caught my breath.

"Thanks," I managed.

He nodded, setting me upright.

Somehow my hands were on his shoulders. How had they gotten there?

His hand was still on my lower back.

He placed his other there.

What was happening.

I held my breath.

The familiar twitching of my fingers returned.

My heart was beating so violently, so painfully, so forcefully I was sure he could hear it. It was all I could hear, resonating in my throat, echoing in my ears. The sound of my heart beat and shaky breath.

His breath was shaky too.

It was slow motion, he was pulling me up, closer.

We kissed.

I don't know how long it lasted.

It was forever, and yet only a millisecond -- too short -- an eternity, but too short.

When I opened my eyes again, I was smiling, one of those real smiles, when you feel the bottom of your ears lift up and the apples of your cheeks flush.

He was wearing the same type of smile.

I wished I had a camera, a canvas, something to forever maintain the image before me.

There he was, smiling, the snow falling behind him, a blur of bold red and oranges, vibrant yellows and twinges of green still flourishing on the autumn trees. His eyes, his wide, clear gray eyes. His silver eyes.

My favorite color.