Panicked, Harry ran down the seven flights of stairs and flew out the front doors of Hogwarts. He hadn't been sleeping well, so he'd already dressed for breakfast and glanced out the dormitory window, as Neville's snored lightly in the background. The vantage point allowed him to see nearly everything on the grounds. Snow had fallen the night before and the landscape was covered - pristine, pure, white, virginal - untouched in the wee morning hours. It was everything Harry hoped for, but never quite achieved. Other than the virginal, of course. He ran when he saw a splotch of red standing at relief.

Blood. God, there was blood everywhere. It stained his hands and his soul and he couldn't bear to think of one more life lost because he wasn't quick enough.

Crunch, crunch, crunch. His feet crashed through the snow and Harry thanked whatever gods were around for him having had put his shoes on. No coat, though, and his hands grew numb. Harry's ears burned from their exposure to the January air. Breathless, he reached the spot of the body, but found only Ron. His hair stood out in contrast to all the white. Not blood then. Harry cursed to himself. When had he become so morbid?

Ron turned around, hands outstretched, looking overjoyed. Surrounding him was a pile of snowballs and a snowman. The snowman sported magically coloured messy black hair, glasses and a scar. "S'you!" Ron stated, unnecessarily.

Harry allowed himself a small smile before asking, "What are you doing out here, all alone?"

"I don't know. I wanted to be out in the snow." Ron paused. "It's early. What are you doing out here?"

"I..." Harry didn't know how to explain that he thought he saw a dead body. "I saw red and I thought the worst, so I ran out here."

Ron peered at him, concerned. "You don't have a coat on. C'mere." Tentatively, Harry took a few steps forward, as Ron unbuttoned his coat and threw it over the both of them. Ron then took Harry's hands in his and started rubbing in warmth. "Do you want to go back inside?" asked Ron.

Harry felt the friction from Ron's touch and looked at their white surroundings. "No, not yet. If you don't mind, I mean."

Ron stopped rubbing Harry's hands, but he didn't let go. "No. I don't mind."