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“I'm pleased we're getting away of all that honking. It was starting to bother my ears.”
“That's because you get a little too grumpy when you've had a glass or two of wine.” Hermione smirked, tugging closer at their linked arms.
“And you expected me not to? I can hardly feel my feet.”
“I told you to get some sturdy shoes. Those heeled boots of yours are fancy — and quite sexy —” Hermione whispered that last part in Narcissa's ear, even if it was rather impossible for them to be heard over the cacophony of 5th Avenue, “but they don't offer much warmth.”
“My boots are just fine. And it's important to maintain oneself presentable, darling.”
Hermione simply smiled, still rubbing Narcissa's hand and keeping their bodies close while they entered the Rockefeller Center, the sounds of the street getting muffled as they distanced themselves from it. It wasn't even that cold. It could be much colder, actually. The last time New York City had seen some snow this time of the year was back in 2002, according to her research. And maybe she had been hopeful for some of it to fall during their vacation, so they could get themselves a White Christmas. But so far, nothing.
She could be fine with no snow if Narcissa would be comfier, though. Or got better insulated boots.
“Anyway, we'll be changing shoes in just a bit, when we get to the rink.”
A sigh. “You know I'm still not sold on this idea, my darling. I don't have as much experience in this as you do.” Or any at all , Narcissa thought. “I'm certain I'll fall.”
“It's not that difficult. I'll be with you every step of the way, promise.” A squeeze to her hand and a kiss on her shoulder warmed Narcissa's insides. “Plus, it's not a full New York experience if we don't do this.”
Hermione winked at her, displaying that cheeky smile that made her look oh-so-much-younger, despite their years together. There was so much reassurance and security in the woman's gaze, it was impossible not to let go of her worries and concede to her wishes. And if Narcissa were to admit, she indeed wanted to see every tourist attraction that this city, still unknown by her, held. To understand everything these muggles — or in this case, non-majs — liked to do, even if at the risk of falling while skating.
At least all the honking and traffic were away now, though it was nowhere near silent. There was so much noise everywhere. What a loud city , and she suspected that it must be even worse at this time of the year. There were voices of people talking at every corner, varying accents she could half distinguish. And between it, the sounds of playful whistles; of loud, adult laughter; and excited, childish squeals. Footsteps, rattling of paper bags and wrapping paper. They passed by a chocolatier ( ‘Always Fresh, Always Delicious, Always Teuscher: Call to Order 24/7’ ), where Piano Man, by Billy Something — she remembered Andromeda having once informed her — was playing. Andromeda and Hermione's father had taken the habit of exchanging his records between themselves back and forth some months ago.
All the reds and greens on the store's showcase were delightful; small Santa Clauses made of felt, adorning the displayed chocolate bars and truffles. She thought about entering and getting more souvenirs for their family, the champagne truffles for Draco, perhaps passing by the Tiffany's store just across the Teuscher establishment and getting Hermione a bracelet. Her wife was already carrying all their bags, however, despite her insistence that she could carry some of it as well; but the stubborn ‘Let it, let it! You won't carry any weight when I'm around and your feet are hurting!’ was already enough answer.
She would make sure to call the stores when they arrived at the hotel. Maybe tomorrow, yes, after they'd visited an exhibition at the Public Library. She looked down at Hermione's wrist, already imagining the glint of jewelry around it — ruby, perhaps, to match her own emerald bracelet —, and pressed a kiss over where Hermione's scar would be. Together, their joined hands would look like Christmas.
Meanwhile, her wife was already tugging her past the fountain surrounded by fairy-lit angels playing glowing trumpets, and past the 'John D. Rockefeller’ historical toten that Hermione had stopped to read about before they headed forward.
“The rink is right there, down those stairs.” Hermione tilted her chin towards it. “Just not sure where- oh! Right there!”
She pointed with her free hand, the paper bags ruffling in her grip. In the direction of her pointing, stood some plaques reading ‘Get tickets to the rink'. Narcissa nodded as Hermione took the lead, despite feeling both her feet and her instincts protest.
“You know,” Hermione said, voice soft and dropping a tone, “we don't have to do this if you don't want to.”
Something melted in Narcissa's chest.
“I assure you I do, darling. I only worry about making a fool of myself.” They stepped closer to the waiting line. Around them, the loudspeakers changed the tune to a very upbeat version of 'Let It Snow'. “I'm not one for adventures.”
“Really? And here I was thinking about renting you one of those penguin-shaped skate aids for you to push along.” That earned a roll of blue eyes. Hermione smiled and called for Narcissa's gaze with a gentle tug of her arm. “The last time I skated was when I went to the Forest of Dean with my parents. I'd been eight back then. Much as I hate to confess, physical activity isn't my forte either-”
“Oh? I wouldn't have guessed.” Narcissa interrupted, sarcasm dripping from a sly, slightly playful smile. Even… teasing?
Hermione's eyes narrowed, knowing that smile far too well. The corners of her lips curved upwards in response.
“You're ridiculous. My point is that I might be pretty rusty too. It's almost a first time for the both of us, but regardless ,” Hermione leaned in, little puffs of white fog shocked against Narcissa's lips as Hermioned whispered, “you couldn't ever make a fool of yourself, Narcissa.”
That was enough to shut her up in between fluttering eyelashes and fast-paced heartbeats. In between promises of ‘I'll be right by your side' , they finally arrived at The Rink, ornamented by an 18-foot-tall gold statue of Prometheus, offering fire to humanity and standing beneath an even shinier, suspended Christmas tree. Around them, people skated in a slow pace, which helped tranquilize Narcissa's heart, sating thoughts like ‘What if someone collide with me? '. Even so, every time someone would pass by too close, her body had this reaction , shooting shivers down her spine and making her knees grow more rigid. It was tremendously ridiculous, even more when a toddler wearing a puffy, pink jacket, slid right by them, no penguin-shaped push-alongs in sight. Narcissa just watched, mouth agape.
By Salazar, she could do this. She was no Gryffindor, but she had determination in herself, and no ice would win over her.
Letting go of the hands of a very watchful Hermione, she willed her feet to start functioning. Well, they weren't leaving the floor, but one has to start somewhere. Tiny inches on one foot, followed by tiny inches on the other. Step and slide. Step and slide. She looked over to the side, and- oh, how she would delight in being up in one of the chalets that surrounded the rink, having a warm drink or ordering Hermione a butterbeer, if it were even possible at the center of New York.
But, if so, she wouldn't be here to see this, would she? The grin on Hermione's face as Narcissa started trying, and the smile when Hermione herself gained confidence.
After making sure that Narcissa was alright, even if a bit hesitant at first, her wife let herself take a ride. Hermione slid over on sharp blades, leaving drawings on the ice where she just passed. Not exactly graceful, but carefree, secure to speed up her pace as she disappeared and appeared among the transeunts, brown curls blown by the wind, before sliding towards Narcissa again while announcing, “it's like riding a bicycle!” It was enough to make Narcissa smile and forget her current state for a few seconds, before an unsteady slip made her remember.
“Woah, I'm here! I've got you!” Strong arms surrounded the shape of a very deer-in-the-headlights-looking Narcissa, keeping her up before she could find her end on the floor. “I'm right here. Not letting you fall, Narcissa! You're so safe.”
Clenching hands were gripping Hermione's arm and shoulder, almost making the curve of her neck cramp with the hold. Hermione suppressed a wince, just letting her arms surround Narcissa's waist and keeping their bodies locked together while the woman regained her breath and balance. The color slowly returning to her face, the wrinkles between her brows and around her lips smoothing once more even if Narcissa still hyperventilated a bit through her mouth. The hold on Hermione's shoulder hesitantly weakened as a gloved hand slid over her neck and towards her curls. Hermione’s eyelashes fluttered shut, unable to resist when Narcissa touched her hair like that. It was one of the places she liked to be caressed the most, and Narcissa managed to do it without disarranging her curls.
It felt so good. Everything about this did, really. She could barely register the sounds that were around them anymore, the only thing in her mind being the way Narcissa was hugging her neck, and the warmth of her body humming underneath so many layers of clothes. She didn't know if it was appropriate in public, but boy, did she want to kiss this woman now.
“You indeed love this city, don't you?”
Brown eyes snapped open, finding gentle blue. “Mmm? Tell me?”
“You enjoy it here. You can barely stop grinning ever since we arrived.” Narcissa pointed, adjusting her hair around her neck. 'Your curls trap warmth, that's why you don't feel cold without a scarf’ , Narcissa said on their first winter together, while tucking her hair over her shoulders just the way she was doing now.
Hermione could feel her smile growing wider. “I like it here. With you. During Christmas. I'm not sure about New York as a constant travel destination, and it must be terrible for anyone to live here and deal with this traffic.” She chuckled. “But our vacations, just the both of us… It's quite good, isn't it?”
Attentive eyes observed her in return, and it was impossible not to lean forward. It always shocked her, the intensity of how much she loved Narcissa. She couldn't explain it, and it was one of the few times she didn't want to; it would be cheap poetry compared to how much there was to feel in reality. As she'd once read, 'to love is the eternal innocence, and the only innocence is not to think'.
It was while admiring those eyes that something intruded her line of sight. A tiny snowflake, delicate and daring, floated before landing right over the tip of Narcissa's nose. And quivered and melted just as soon as it appeared, milliseconds still in time. Her insides backflipped, forehead muscles spasming as her heart registered the fondness overtaking her, flooding her chest. Just as quickly, she captured the droplet between her lips, kissing her wife's nose.
Followed by a brush of noses, followed then by an exchange of breaths that felt much warmer than possible for a night like these. Narcissa's wine-scented breath made her head spin. It was December 24th, the year was 2009, her and Narcissa had been together for 9 years, married a little less than that, and she just couldn't wait to be alone with her wife. A succession of events just as true and breathtaking as it was snowing.
“Shall we go back to the hotel now?” Hermione breathed, hands searching for Narcissa's hips.
This time, it was Narcissa's turn to lazily flash a glorious, illuminated grin, so charged with teasing it only served to amplify the lack of air in Hermione's ribcage. “I thought you were going to exhibit a demonstration of physical activity right now.” Her tone ringed in Hermione's ears.
“I can. We can go back now, if you'd like.” Adequacy be damned. She leaned until her lips brushed against cold, lipstick-painted ones. Not a kiss, not yet.
“Mmm, I entertain the idea, Miss Granger.” Narcissa hummed, fingers dipping in Hermione's curls and tugging gently enough just to look into Hermione's eyes. “After you teach me how to skate, perhaps you can show those demonstrations only to me.”
Biting her lower lip, Hermione nodded. She would hold her wife's hand, be her private and exclusive skate-aid, and then she would take Narcissa to the hotel and show her the perfect New York experience.
A Merry Christmas indeed.