Work Text:
Snowfall
The cold winter air nips at your cheeks as you bundle up in your thickest coat and scarf, stepping outside into the snow-covered grounds of Antonin’s cabin, buried deep in the woods of his beloved homeland. He has invited you to visit for the weekend, and the quiet serenity of the snowy landscape feels like stepping into a dream.
“Finally!” Antonin’s deep voice calls from a few yards ahead. He stands with his arms crossed, his black coat making him stand out starkly against the white snow. “I thought you’d never come out. It’s perfect snow for building today.”
You can’t help but laugh. The feared and notorious Antonin Dolohov is currently standing in a field of snow, more excited than you’ve ever seen him. It’s a sight that no one else in the wizarding world would believe.
“A snowman, really?” you tease, joining him where the untouched snow sparkles under the pale winter sun.
“Absolutely.” He gives you a crooked smile that sends warmth through your body. “Unless you’d rather duel? I’m sure the snow makes a softer landing than the dueling mats.”
You roll your eyes, crouching down to scoop up a handful of snow. “I’ll stick to snowmen, thanks.”
Antonin chuckles and crouches beside you, his gloved hands beginning to pack snow into a tight ball. Together, you begin the slow process of rolling the snow into larger spheres, laughing as they grow heavier and harder to push.
“Not bad for an amateur,” Antonin remarks, inspecting your snowball critically.
“Oh, please,” you shoot back. “Yours is lopsided.”
“Lopsided?” he repeats, mock offense in his tone. “I’ll have you know that—” He is cut off as you lob a handful of snow at his chest.
The expression on his handsome face is priceless—shock mixed with delight. “You’re going to regret that,” he warns, bending down to scoop up a handful of snow.
“Catch me first!” you shout, laughing as you run through the snow.
Antonin is faster than you expect, his long legs making quick work of the distance between you. With a triumphant growl, he catches you around the waist, both of you tumbling into the snow in a tangle of limbs. The world spins as you fall, a squeal escaping your lips, and then you are lying flat on your back, Antonin hovering above you.
The air between you seems to still. His dark eyes hold yours, and the playful smirk on his lips softens into something deeper. Snowflakes cling to his chocolate coloured hair and beard, and his body warm against the winter chill.
“You’re beautiful, you know,” he says, his voice low and uncharacteristically tender.
Your cheeks flush with pleasure. “And you’re heavy,” you tease, trying to lighten the moment even as your heart races.
He laughs softly, but he doesn’t move. Instead, his gloved hand reaches up to brush a stray snowflake from your hair. “You always manage to catch me off guard,” he murmurs. “No one else dares to challenge me, let alone with snow.”
“Well, someone has to keep you humble,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
Antonin’s gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, you forget about the cold, the snow, and the world beyond this moment. Slowly, he leans down, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that surprises you.
The kiss is gentle at first, as if he’s afraid of breaking the fragile connection. But when you respond, threading your fingers through the soft curls of his hair, he deepens it, his hand cupping your face.
His lips move against yours with a growing intensity, and his thumb brushes your jaw as though you're something precious. The weight of him presses you into the snow, his body heat radiating through his coat, melting away the chill. His other hand finds your waist, holding you close as the kiss becomes more urgent, more consuming.
Time seems to stop, the quiet of the snowy landscape broken only by the faint sounds of your soft sighs of pleasure. It's a kiss that feels like it could set fire to the coldest winter, leaving you breathless and clinging to him desperately.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re trouble,” he says, his voice filled with warmth.
“You like it,” you reply, grinning up at him.
He chuckles, sitting back on his knees and offering you a hand to help you up. “Come on, we still have a snowman to finish.”
You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. As the two of you work side by side to finish the snowman, the lingering warmth of his kiss stays with you. A teaser of what is to come when you lie in his arms tonight as the fire blazes in the hearth.