week after the fateful events in the forest; the very same day McGonagall praised him in front of the school and everyone who had doubted Draco's heroism quickly turned into believers. The final blow to Draco's dwindling confidence was prompted by Merwyn Borage's letter. Lovely though the letter was, Borage had also enclosed his research on Memory Potions, insisting that Draco might find it interesting. And he was right.

Borage hadn't been trying to improve the Memory Potions so students could use them to cheat on their exams. He hoped that one day he would find a way to enhance a person's memory so greatly, the memories of those whose minds had been damaged beyond repair could be restored. It was an admirable goal and Borage still had a long way to go, but the new formula for the Memory Potion could already counter the effects of a simple Memory Charm. Borage had given him detailed instructions on how to restore his memories, warning Draco that the restoration might not be complete.

Draco wasn't quite certain he wanted to know exactly what had happened in the forest and what Potter was hiding, but he couldn't resist the temptation.

He did it in his bed in the middle of the night while everyone else was asleep. He followed Borage's instructions faithfully; he drank a Calming Draught, practiced Occlumency and only after his mind was sufficiently blank did he drink the vial of Memory Potion Slughorn had given him. Borage had said Draco should concentrate on something specific that could jog his memory and Draco had just the thing for this purpose. He fished out Harry Potter's old glasses from underneath his pillow and stared at them, willing his mind to remember.

It worked, to an extent, but seeing what had happened didn't make Draco feel any better, only worse.

The memories were blurry and incomplete, but he remembered why he had punched Potter. They were fighting, or rather, Draco was fighting and Potter was flirting. When Potter tried to kiss him, Draco slammed his fist into Potter's jaw. He remembered the feeling that had made him react the way he did — panic. Mind-blowing panic.

But he had already suspected something similar had happened. Even though it meant Draco's actions helped Nott and Harper to surprise and Disarm them, it was not the incident that disturbed him. What happened afterward was much more unnerving.

Draco remembered Nott's face, distorted by an enraged grimace. Nott had pointed Draco's own wand at him and sneered with pure hatred in his eyes.

"I wish I could see your father's face when they find you in the forest with your guts torn apart," Nott had said. "You were so obviously attacked by a vicious beast. A horrible, random tragedy. I doubt anyone would even care enough to investigate. They'll be too grateful Potter survived, confused though he will be, our poor hero, after I Obliviate him."

Draco remembered Harper's wide, shocked eyes and Nott's excited expression, and then a grey curse flew toward him. He remembered his fear and the cold wind on his face as the curse travelled, seemingly forever. He remembered thinking about his mother who would be devastated when they told her Draco wouldn't come back home.

The curse never reached him. Potter, stupid, thoughtless, wandless Potter, with his wide green eyes filled with terror, cried, "Protego!" and threw himself in front of the curse.

A part of the curse rebounded off the shield, nearly hitting a gobsmacked Nott, who jumped to the side at the last second. Potter flew backward, his shoulder slamming into Draco; his glasses slipped to the ground as he fell and he pulled Draco down with him. Draco remembered pain exploding in his temple as he hit the ground, falling onto his side with Potter's arm wrapped protectively around him.

The memory turned blurry and all Draco could remember was pain and his shock. Potter had taken the curse for him and as a result lay peacefully on the ground as though he was dead. Draco had been sure Potter was dead.

Nott, though clearly terrified, tried to curse Draco again. Unable to stand up, Draco wrapped his heavy arms around Potter in a pointless, mindless gesture, waiting for the inescapable death. But a bright shield shimmered in front of him, stronger than ever, blocking the curse completely. Nott barely had time to duck again as the curse shot back toward him. Derwent Harper ran away in horror.

The last thing Draco remembered was Nott's frightened voice as he cried, "Obliviate!" and then Potter was wrenched out of Draco's arms and everything turned dark.

Potter probably didn't even realise what he had done. He didn't know his wandless Shield Charm would work, but Draco had seen him cast a spell wandlessly in the cabin. All Potter was trying to hide was the fact that he had taken the curse instead of Draco.

But he had done so much more. Draco remembered Potter's speech after he had defeated the Dark Lord; he remembered the confusing part when Potter talked about the power of sacrifice and the only form of magic strong enough to counter dark curses. Draco had scoffed at his ramblings at the time, but they didn't seem so ridiculous anymore. A shield that had protected Draco after Potter was already cursed wasn't a simple charm; it was a shield the likes of which Draco had never seen. It let Nott Obliviate him, but it did not let him curse him. Nott couldn't hurt him. The shield protected Draco from the Dark Magic better than it had protected Potter himself; it was stronger after Potter's insane sacrifice.

Nott must not have dared to point his wand at Potter again. Considering the circumstances, Nott's hasty attempt to frame Draco wasn't half-bad. If Potter had died, he might have succeeded.

The memories dispersed and Draco sat on his bed and stared at the darkness for a long time, toying with the glasses in his hands.

Potter had saved them both. His feelings for Draco must have run deeper than Draco had thought. Much deeper. It was a terrifying thought to contemplate. Draco felt less worthy than ever.

One thing was perfectly clear now — Draco wasn't the hero of the tale. Yet again, it was Potter.

It was snowing on the last Hogsmeade weekend before the Christmas holidays. The snowflakes were so dense the Great Hall ceiling looked purely white. The morning post was wet and damaged, as were the poor owls who delivered it. They brought much fast-melting snow with them to the Hall.

Draco's package full of sweets was relatively unharmed, but the sight of it didn't bring him any joy. His parents, like everyone else, seemed intent on showering him with attention. Abandoning his porridge, Draco picked up his mother's letter and pushed the package toward Goyle. For a moment, the ecstatic look on Goyle's face was so great Draco thought Goyle would hug him, but fortunately, Goyle was much more interested in ripping the package apart.

"Leave some for me!" Pansy cried. Goyle tossed her a lollipop.

Pansy shook her head but took the lollipop, nonetheless. "So rude. Tell him, Draco!"

However, Draco ignored her and scowled at his mother's letter. The presence of the package of sweets annoyed him. It meant the letter contained more praise and comfort, which wasn't what Draco wanted.

Two days ago, after a very favourable article about him was published in the Daily Prophet, he'd had a minor nervous breakdown. Or perhaps not so minor, considering he had done the most shocking thing imaginable — he had written to his mother and told her everything. He spared her certain details, but left no room for doubt about what had happened in the cabin. He had confessed his usage of Felix Felicis and told her point-blank that he was not the genius she thought he was.

Putting his fears and doubts on a piece of paper had been cathartic; sending it to his mother had been stupid. But his mother would still love him and he needed someone to know the whole truth and yet not care.

Grumpily, he opened the letter.

The first section was strange. His mother seemed fixated on the fact he had done inappropriate things with a boy and she reminded him of his status as a Malfoy and his responsibility to the Malfoy name. Draco had expected her to say as much, but what he did not expect was for her to finish the passage by telling him that if he chose to pursue a romantic relationship with Potter, his father would not be easily persuaded to accept it, and they would have to break the news to him carefully.

Draco stared at his mother's words in disbelief. She must have misinterpreted something Draco had written. She all but gave him her blessing to date Potter and promised to be their ally. As though Draco had asked for such a thing. He was positive he hadn't.

However, the second part of the letter drove everything else from his mind. Draco read it three times, but the words refused to make sense. Pansy was shaking him something fierce, rambling about Hogsmeade and how it was time to go, but Draco couldn't tear his eyes from the letter, nor make his limbs move.

His whole world was suddenly turned upside-down by a passage that contained his mother's unexpected and heartfelt apology. It said:

Forgive me, my son, for your father and I have deceived you. We feared for your state of mind and your future. You were nothing but listless and depressed over the summer holidays, and more than once you expressed doubt about your ability to pass your N.E.W.T. examination. You have always been an intelligent child and we know, even though you have doubts, that you can achieve anything you wish, if only you wish for it hard enough.

Believe me when I say we had no other objective but to give you the hope and confidence which you have lost. We could not have foreseen the terrible events that transpired in the forest. We could not have dreamt you would need the potion for anything but your exams. However, the truth is, Draco, you could not have used it to deceive the examiners. Even a single drop of the Luck Potion would have alerted the charms intended to prevent cheating. It is not possible to pass your N.E.W.T.s through means of deception. Many have tried in the past and failed. You may ask any of your professors, or the examiners themselves, and they will confirm my words.

The golden liquid in your pendant was a harmless tonic. You have never drunk Felix Felicis. The voice that guided you through the forest and rescued you from your troubles was not the voice of liquid luck — it was your own.

"I swear, if you don't get up right now, I will leave you here!"

Draco's gaze snapped to Pansy. Her annoyance disappeared instantly.

"Oh, Draco, did something happen?" she asked, her eyes filling with concern. She glanced at the letter. "Bad news?" She reached out to take the letter from Draco's hands, but Draco quickly snatched it away. He had an unreasonable urge to press it close to his chest and guard it with his life.

Pansy frowned and Draco shot up from the bench, just to make her stop asking questions.

"Everything's fine," he whispered. Pansy stared at him suspiciously and Draco managed to smile.

"All right, come on," she said, probably too eager to go to press the matter further.

Draco let her pull him toward the students that crowded the Hogwarts entrance. Filch was examining permission slips and the elder students hovered at the end of the row impatiently.

"I don't know why he insists on going through the damn permission slips again. He examined them all twice already this year," Pansy grumbled.

Draco wasn't listening. His mind raced through the events in the forest. He couldn't understand what had helped him to save Potter, if not luck. All those thoughts in his head couldn't have been his own.

Or could they? The voice had never told him anything new; every piece of information, his every conclusion was based on something he had heard or seen before. It was merely unlikely he had remembered the various pieces of information and connected them to form his conclusions. But they were his and some of them were wrong, but most of them were right. Nonetheless, he had still found a random cabin and, even more importantly, cured Potter merely by experimenting and hoping the unusual potion combinations would work. That had to have been luck.

Borage's words echoed in Draco's mind.

"That is luck. But a corner of your mind knows how the ingredients react to each other and in the end you know you were lucky because you dared to follow your intuition."

Was that all he had followed — his intuition?

"Yes!" Pansy cried.

Draco blinked, focusing on his surroundings.

"He's finally done!" Pansy informed him, presumably talking about Filch. "About time. I have shopping to do. It's nearly Christmas!"

Draco's gaze flew over Pansy's head and stilled on Potter, who stood a few feet away, surrounded by a knot of Gryffindors. Potter caught his gaze, gave him a small smile, and turned away. A few Gryffindors smiled at Draco, as well, and one of them waved. Draco didn't recognise them, even though he probably should have. His mind was focused on something else. Something entirely insane that danced inside his head, refusing to pause and let Draco capture it and think about it properly.

Potter moved toward the exit and the wind whooshed through the door disturbing the black stands of Potter's tousled hair. Draco's thoughts finally settled. Everything was clear, suddenly.

He had been lucky because he thought he was lucky. Which meant he could be lucky whenever he wished. He could be lucky every day.

Any day.

This day.

Draco pushed forward through the crowd.

"Oh, Draco, I adore you. You cleared the path for me!" Pansy yelled behind him. "That's right! Push them! Everyone move aside! Hero coming through!"

The students must have really moved aside, because Draco was standing in front of Potter in no time. Potter turned toward him and the Gryffindors around him stopped walking to look at them.

Draco concluded he must have called Potter's name, because Potter was looking at him expectantly. So were the students around them.

"I, er . . ." Draco eyed their audience warily. "I need to talk to you."

"Um, okay." Potter waited.

"In private," Draco said quickly.

"Move along!" Filch screamed, sounding almost hysterical.

Potter looked at Filch, the crowd around them, and then at the professors that hung at the back of the row. He grimaced apologetically. "Can't it wait?"

"No!" Draco all but yelled. Filch's screams were driving him insane.

"But . . ." Potter looked around again at Granger, Weasley and the rest of the Gryffindors. They were blocking the exit. "Well, you can walk with us to Hogsmeade."

Granger quickly nodded and, after she stepped on his foot, so did Weasley.

"But, that's what . . ." Draco said, but then gritted his teeth. Filch was now yelling at them and the professors were beginning to look agitated, as well. Draco sighed inwardly. Oh, fuck it.

"I wanted to ask you if you would go with me to Hogsmeade," Draco said, not moving his gaze from Potter's wide eyes.

"We're all going to Hogsmeade, Malfoy," Weasley said.

"You can come with us. It's okay," Granger added quickly.

"No, no, he can't!" Pansy cried. "Draco, what's wrong with you? I'm not going with them."

Draco suspected he would prove Albus Dumbledore wrong, after all, and murder someone right then and there.

Potter hadn't said a word. He just stared.

"You there! Malfoy!" Filch yelled. "I'll report you! You know I will! Move!"

Draco ignored him. "I meant . . ."

Filch's hysteria passed onto Granger. She grabbed Draco's elbow. "Really, Malfoy. Come on."

Draco's hands clenched into fists. "I'm asking you on a date, Potter!" he yelled.

And he had done it again. He had been too loud. His words were greeted by utter silence. Even Filch stopped yelling. The only sound was the howling of the wind that whooshed through the open door as though it, too, wished to eavesdrop.

Potter blinked once, twice slowly, and then stopped blinking altogether.

"You're what?" Pansy whispered weakly.

Draco felt like groaning. Potter was silent and, Draco suspected, in utter shock.

Merlin, what was he thinking? Or, why hadn't he been thinking? He had been elated by his mother's revelation and her support; he hadn't even considered the possibility that Potter might not want to date. It was highly likely Potter was disturbed by his feelings and had no wish to advertise his sexual preferences to the whole world. Draco should have approached him privately. Now, he had put Potter on the spot and Potter had no choice but to refuse him and leave Draco utterly humiliated.

Lucky every day, Draco scoffed. What the fuck was he on about?

"I . . ." Potter said quietly and it seemed to Draco that everyone around them leaned in closer. Or maybe Draco was just dizzy. Potter cleared his throat. "I'd like that. Very much." He breathed in sharply, still apparently unable to blink. "Yes," he added.

Nobody moved or made a sound. Draco's mind was slowly processing Potter's answer.

Slughorn's voice reached Draco's ears. "Time to go!" he said and pushed some students forward and then, as though someone had cast a Babbling Charm on the crowd, whispers broke out, becoming steadily louder. Draco was barely aware of it. Potter had said yes. They were going on a date. A fucking date.

The crowd thinned slowly; students walked around Potter and Draco, but several of them still lingered.

Slughorn smiled as he went past Potter, dragging a petrified-looking Merrythought with him. "What did I say?" Slughorn tapped his nose. "I can always tell."

Potter blushed a little.

"Draco!" Pansy whispered urgently and Draco managed to tear his gaze away from Potter to look at her. "Is this a part of some evil master plan?" she asked quietly.

"Er . . ." Draco studied her wide eyes and took pity on her. "Yes. Don't tell anyone." He smiled.

Pansy looked terribly relieved. "Oh, thank Salazar." She moved toward the exit and winked at him. Draco winked back, slapping himself inwardly. Goyle, with a red lollipop in his mouth, grinned and gave him a thumbs up. Draco had no idea if Goyle, too, thought Draco had an evil master plan, or if he was congratulating him on the date, or if he was simply sugar-high.

Draco quickly turned toward Potter, suddenly terrified that Potter had already left. However, to Draco's immense relief, Potter was still standing a few feet away, whispering something to Granger. She gave him a tentative smile and then took Weasley's hand and dragged him away. Weasley walked backward, blinking rapidly, his mouth wide open.

Draco refocused his gaze on Potter. They and Filch were the only ones still in the castle; the professors had walked ahead.

Potter smiled at him a little and Draco smiled back stupidly.

"If I lose my breakfast, guess who will get a detention and clean it up without magic?" a sneering voice said and Draco looked around at Filch. He glowered at them.

Draco opened his mouth to say something rude, but a gloved hand grabbed Draco's and pulled him forward.

"Come on," Potter said, smiling as they ran out of the castle, following the large crowd of students ahead.

They slowed their pace, trailing behind the rest of the group. Potter didn't release Draco's hand.

It wasn't snowing heavily, anymore, but snowflakes danced around them, occasionally hitting Draco's face like tiny cold missiles. It was almost painful to look around; everything was white.

However, it was much more difficult to look at Potter, so Draco took his chances and stared at the blinding snow. He had no plan. He had no idea what he was doing. He was on a date with Potter, holding his hand, and he had no idea what to even say to him. Nonetheless, he felt like smiling.

"Malfoy?" Potter said, sounding tentative.

"Hmm?" Draco stared ahead. He wondered if Potter would take back his answer. Maybe he had only agreed to the date to spare Draco the embarrassment. Draco squeezed Potter's hand tighter.

"Er, you have a letter in your hand."

Draco looked at his left hand sharply. He was still clutching his mother's letter.

"Oh! You should read this!" he said, eager to let Potter know that Draco hadn't used the Luck Potion at all. He reluctantly let go of Potter's hand and opened the letter.

"Just one section." He scanned the letter quickly and then shoved it into Potter's hands, pointing to where he should start reading.

Potter looked at him, bemused.

Draco huffed impatiently. Potter was too damn slow. "I never drank Felix Felicis! Mother says it was fake," Draco said, unable to hide the pride in his tone.

Potter bit his lip. He didn't even look at the letter.

Draco happiness melted away slowly. "It's true," he said defensively. "Read it," he almost pleaded.

"Er, I know it's true." Potter handed him back the letter. He was avoiding Draco's eyes.

Draco stared at him.

Potter sighed and stopped walking. He turned toward Draco and gave him an apologetic look. "You should know the whole truth. I guess your mother never mentioned that she wrote to me over the summer?"

Draco slowly shook his head. He couldn't make sense of Potter's words.

"Well, she did. She said she was worried about you and your future. She said you were depressed and had lost your confidence after everything that happened with Voldemort. She asked if I could help you regain it. She hinted that I owed her and I could maybe find you a respectable job."

"Merlin." Draco gasped, embarrassed. He couldn't believe his mother had been asking favours from Potter. "I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Potter shook his head dismissively. "She wasn't the only one who sent me a letter like that." He smiled a little. "I told her what I told everyone else. I didn't plan to ask for any favours for myself or anyone else. If someone wanted something, they would have to earn it. I'm sorry, but . . ."

"No, I understand," Draco said quickly. He owed Potter too much, already. He didn't want his help. He wanted his respect.

"Well, she assured me you're very intelligent and said she's positive N.E.W.T.s wouldn't be a problem if you just had a little more faith in your abilities."

Draco closed his eyes in mortification. He and his mother would have to have a serious talk about this.

"And, well, like I said, I told her I couldn't help. And I mentioned the only way I knew to raise someone's confidence levels was to give them a fake Felix Felicis. It was a joke, but she must have been desperate, because she wrote back asking for more details. So I told her how I had fooled Ron once and made him think he had drunk the Luck Potion. He had a very lucky day. We beat the Slytherin team that day because of it. Ron's a good Keeper but he has no faith in his abilities. It was a tiny push, but it helped immensely. "

"Oh." Draco dug his heels deeper into the snow. He wasn't sure how to feel about this revelation. It meant that all this time Potter was aware that Draco had had no help in the forest. It meant Potter hadn't been lying to his friends to make Draco look better; he was merely telling the truth. It meant Potter knew more about Draco than Draco knew himself.

"When McGonagall told me you had Felix Felicis in the forest . . ." Potter shrugged, grinning. "I was pretty sure the potion was fake."

Draco glared at him. "You should have told me."

"I figured your parents would tell you, eventually." Potter grinned. "I guessed they hadn't yet, because you looked so guilty and humbled whenever someone praised you. It was fascinating to watch." Something flickered in Potter's eyes. He squinted and cocked his head. "You should have told me what really happened in the cabin."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Potter's eyes bored into his; his expression was serious and accusing.

Shit. The date was over before it even began. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Luck potion or not, hero or not, he had still taken advantage of Potter. And Potter remembered. Now he knew why Potter had agreed to the date — he wanted a chance to confront Draco.

Draco could feel his cheeks heating up. It was hard to look at Potter. "You should have told me you took the Curse for me," he said in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

Potter's grave expression transformed into shock. His lips parted and his eyes were as round as saucers. He studied Draco's expression carefully. "You mean, it really happened?" he breathed.

It took Draco two seconds to realise that Potter wasn't referring to the moment when he threw himself in front of the curse. Potter knew that was real.

Draco's knees almost gave out. Potter had tricked him. He was bluffing. And Draco had failed to deny the events in the cabin. Potter was just guessing. He didn't know. But he knew now. Draco couldn't deny it, anymore. He fucking blew it.

Draco slowly nodded in defeat; intense shame washed over him. "Yes. It really did."

"My dream . . . wasn't a dream?" Potter's face was devoid of colour. He edged closer.

Draco closed his eyes so he wouldn't see Potter's eyes turn cold.

"Not a dream," he whispered.

The moment of silence that followed was difficult to withstand. Draco didn't know what to expect.

Warm gloved hands cupped his face, making Draco gasp a little in fright. Potter's thumbs caressed his cheeks and Draco dared to open his eyes.

Potter was standing close, so close their noses were almost touching. Draco could feel Potter's warm breath ghosting over his lips.

"You kissed me and touched me everywhere and you were looking at me like . . . That was real? Real real?" Potter still didn't look angry, merely stunned.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Draco said quickly, hoping the absence of anger meant Potter was inclined to forgive him.

"You are?"

"I took advantage of you."

Potter frowned. "I remember . . . I tied you up."

The wind wrapped itself around Draco's body, squeezing his chest and not allowing him to breathe. He inhaled sharply, shivering. "But then you freed me. And I didn't stop. And I am so sorry. You had a fever and you had no idea where you were and I didn't stop, and I know I should have." Draco knew he was babbling, but he couldn't shut up. "But I didn't . . . I didn't go far. I thought I had cursed you and that you'd hate me forever and send me to Azkaban and I just . . . I just couldn't stop. It was just a few stolen kisses —"

Potter's grip on Draco's face became firmer; he shook Draco's head a little. "They weren't stolen," Potter said sharply. "Draco, I remember everything. I wanted it." The look in Potter's eyes softened impossibly. "You have no idea how much," he whispered.

"You weren't yourself —"

"I was." Potter laughed, sounding nervous, or merely excited. He was shivering. "Merlin, I should apologise to you. I tied you up and . . . Bloody hell." Potter blushed, the colour spread from his cheeks and disappeared beneath his scarf.

Draco's arms realised Potter wasn't angry before Draco's mind came to the conclusion. They sneaked behind Potter and wrapped themselves around Potter's waist, pulling him closer, trapping him in a firm embrace.

"So, we are a couple of dirty molesters?" he asked lightly, still unable to accept the fact that Potter wasn't at all angry; that despite his delirium, Potter knew exactly what he wanted in the cabin. And he wanted Draco. It was ridiculous how liberating that knowledge was. Apparently, Draco was the one who needed reassurance that what had happened in the cabin was real.

Potter grinned and nodded vigorously. "Good thing we're together. At least other people don't have to fear our violating ways."

"Are we? Together?" Draco asked quietly.

"I'd like to see you try and get rid of me. I'm obviously a master of wandless bondage." Potter's voice lowered; he was almost whispering. Their noses touched. A snowflake fell on Draco's cheek and Potter brushed it way with his thumb.

"Lucky me," Draco murmured and tilted his head. His lips parted and Potter's gaze flickered toward them and then back to Draco's eyes.

An eternity passed before Potter's lips touched his. The gentle pressure made Draco sigh and close his eyes. They stood like that for a moment and then Potter's hands were in Draco's hair and they were clinging to each other desperately, their tongues intertwined and lips locked together.

It occurred to Draco that he had been silly when he thought he would never get a chance to do this again. It was obvious, now, that he would do nothing but kiss Potter forever.

With a breathless gasp, Potter pulled away slightly, but his lips were still caressing Draco's, their warm touch sending shivers through Draco's body, all the way to his toes.

"Honestly!" someone cried.

Draco grumbled against Potter's lips, kissed them gently once more and looked around reluctantly.

Professor Merrythought stood a little farther ahead, clutching her side and breathing heavily.

"I thought we lost you again. Really!" she wheezed. "Stop doing that!"

Draco suspected she wanted them to stop hugging and kissing rather than stop disappearing.

"We're coming, Professor!" Potter said, pulling away and releasing Draco's hair with a regretful caress.

Draco snickered. "Not yet, surely."

Potter snorted and shook his head. His glasses were foggy; it made Draco want to kiss him again.

"Well?" Merrythought pointed toward the Hogsmeade village. "Go!" she snapped sternly and waited.

Potter grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him forward, kicking the snow childishly as they walked. As they passed Merrythought, Draco heard her grumble, "Of course he's gay. Just my luck."

No, it's mine, Draco thought giddily and pulled Potter closer.

Potter smiled at him. His face was brighter than the snowy grounds.

_________________________

                                            
Fin