And To All A Good Night [h.s. one shots]

Sugar Plum by pawriter19

Sugar Plum

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23 December

There are so many places Clara Bianco would rather be right now, but she's here - in Vail, Colorado.

Well, technically, she's in the Denver airport, waiting for her father to finish hustling his way with the rental car associate. Mr. Bianco never misses an opportunity to save a bit of money, even while traveling on someone else's dime.

But no matter what, she's not where she wants to be - at the beach, with her friends. Clara got a scholarship to a west coast school for a reason; she liked the warmth, the ocean, and she has made her life there with all of her friends.

Christmas Break has never really been a problem before this year. She would go home, annoy her little brother about high school, work at her old coffee shop job during their busy holiday hours, read a few books, and spend time with her grandparents. She would go right back to school as soon as the New Year hit and she rang in her grandfather's favorite holiday.

She would escape back to the beach, she would let the waves consume her, she would feel light as air in those moments.

But February came, and so did the stroke.

Her grandparents were a little bit older, because her parents had been a little bit older. Mrs. Bianco didn't get pregnant until the eve of her fortieth birthday, and Mr. Bianco was already forty-two.

Grandpa Bianco, Nonno, was eighty-seven when Clara's phone started ringing during her economics class. She quickly dismissed the call from her mother, texting that she'd call back later or as soon as class was over. Her mother knew that Clara deserved more than a text with the news of her grandfather, so she waited. And Clara called her mother back from the comfort of her dorm room.

Clara doesn't remember much about the phone call, only the aching of her body with her mother's every word.

"Clara Marie, what are you daydreaming about?" Her grandmother's hand waves in front of her face, pulling her back to the reality of the airport surroundings.

"Sorry, Nonna." She gives her grandmother a soft smile. "Just tired, I think." The flight was only a few hours, but she knows that the days ahead are coming... and she is dreading them.

"Sleep in the car." Nonna brushes her fingers through her granddaughter's hair. "I'll need some help with the cookies tonight."

"We're making cookies?" Clara asks, immediately regretting the sour tone in her voice. Her grandmother doesn't deserve that. "I mean... where are you going to get the supplies?"

"It's Colorado, sweetie, not the middle of nowhere. They have stores, and the lodge kitchen said they would be fully stocked." Nonna leaves a fragile kiss on Clara's cheeks before walking away to check on her grandson. A large sigh leaves Clara's body, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of her heartbeat.

I'm doing this for you, she tells her grandfather, wherever he may be. You and Nonna.

It's almost a two hour car ride from the airport to the lodge in Vail. That means - two hours of Clara kicking Nicholas every time his music is too loud and pouring out of his headphones. Two hours of her mom and dad bickering about which route will get them there the fastest. And two hours of Nonna staring out at the mountains, lost in thought, thinking of her person who isn't here to see this.

Nonno fucking loved the holidays.

Clara tries to keep her mind occupied, listening to her sad girl hours playlist - because nothing helps a sour mood like ridiculously sad music. And even when her eyes are glued to the gorgeous lodge outside of her window, the sorrowful voice of Kacey Musgraves stays flowing through her ears.

Vail is... a lot more beautiful than Clara imagined. She Googled the lodge, of course, but she never imagined it would look so... whimsical in person. The sun has just set, so there's a dim hue in the sky that seems to match the Christmas lights all around. The mountains seem to glow and every person just looks so... happy. Cold, but happy.

It gives her the smallest glimmer of hope - not enough, but just a little. Maybe enough to get her through tonight. And tomorrow.

"Clar?" A small nudge on her shoulder pulls her out of yet another daydream, and her mother gives a small nod towards the trunk of the car. "Help with Nonna's bags?" Clara immediately nods, tucking her headphones away to grab the old floral suitcase from the trunk.

The lobby of the lodge is stunning, and it's what makes Clara feel out of place. Immediately.

The Biancos don't do things like this - they don't go on fancy vacations with all the flare and the drama. They stay home, in their cozy house, baking cookies and trading small gifts. They're not a family who goes crazy on presents, because there has never been a need to - and they'd rather use the money to help pay for the house or the car or for school.

"How can we fucking afford this?" Nicholas' jaw is dropped open, just like his older sister's. She shakes her head, because she really has no idea.

"Nonno must've hid his other stash from us." The literal stash of money - in his sock drawer. The Bianco children always knew to wait outside their grandparents' bedroom before they left a visit to their house. Nonno would slip them a few bucks, whisper 'it's not much, but it's somethin' ' and shoo them away.

The trip itself was Nonna's idea - she didn't want to spend her first Christmas without her soulmate in that dreaded 'cracker box' of a house. So she set up this trip with some of the money that he left her. She knew their only son wouldn't want the constant reminders of missing his father, either, and the grandchildren had a bond with Nonno like no other.

So no Christmas or New Year's at home this year. She insisted on whisking them away - to see the snow, the mountains, the beautiful lights of a Christmas town like Vail. All of Nonno's favorite things... they would just have to celebrate without him.

Clara is gawking at the thirty-foot Christmas tree lighting up the lobby, admiring all its ornaments and garland, when she catches a set of eyes staring back at her.

Green, and it's only for a moment, but green eyes catch her brown ones. He lets out a breath before breaking eye contact and going back to whoever he's talking to.

His cheeks are flushed pink, contrasting his cable knit sweater, and Clara notices the way his hair is messily displayed on top of his head. It looks like he has been skiing, and she is proven correct when she notices the pair of skis clutched to his side. His smile widens while he talks to another boy his age, and Clara's breath is stolen by the way his cheeks carve inward.

Dimples. She has always been a sucker for dimples.

"Daydreamer." Nicholas flicks his sister. "C'mon, let's go see our palace."

The Bianco siblings open their lodge room door to... a typical room. Two beds, a TV, and a bathroom to share. Across the hall is the room for their parents, and attached to their parents' room is the room for Nonna. It's basic but... it's theirs. And they'd be lying if they weren't a tad bit excited to be in a resort. Lodge. Hotel. Whatever you want to call it.

They don't do vacations that often.

After unpacking and arguing over who takes the bed closest to the door, the Bianco siblings meet Nonna in the lodge's guest kitchen - a grand room of steel tables and appliances, open for the guests to use to bake their cookies or their traditional holiday foods.

Because Nonna is Nonna, she brought her actual pizzelle press from home to make her famous recipe. Nicholas lets out a small giggle, stopping when Clara hits his shoulder.

"Humor her." Clara whispers to her teenage brother.

"Alright, alright." His hands go up in defense, watching his grandmother plug in the press so it can begin to heat up.

Pizzelle making is one of Clara's favorite little traditions with her Nonna. She doesn't even like the cookie that much, but she loves the way her grandmother retells the same stories of growing up in Italy. Meeting her Nonno. Moving to America. Having a son and watching him raise two beautiful children.

"What kind?!" An unexpected voice rings through the kitchen, interrupting Nonna's storytelling, and Clara makes eye contact with the same boy from the lobby. "Sorry." He hisses, tiptoeing to the refrigerator to grab a couple of beers.

Clara keeps her eyes on the boy the entire time, entranced by the cable knit sweater that is snug to his body. But the boy offers a weird, fake smile before running off with the beers and exiting the kitchen.

"Clara Marie, that boy was carino." Nonna grins, carefully spooning more batter onto the pizzelle press. Cute.

"Nonna!" Clara groans, knowing that her reaction is already enough of a tell that she agrees. He was... is... cute. Very cute. She knew that from the moment his dimple stopped her heart in the lobby.

"I knew coming here was a good idea." Nonna keeps her sly smile, turning back to the pizzelles to avoid a grumpy Clara.

But Clara takes a deep breath to avoid the grumpiness, and she remembers where she's at - with her brother and her Nonna, two of her favorite people.

"Heads up, asswipe." Nicholas breaks Clara out of her thoughts, throwing a ball of thick batter right at her cheek.

Ok, one of her favorite people... and her ass of a teenage brother.

The pizzelle making lasts until Nonna is too tired to admit it. But Clara has gotten used to the way Nonna hides her yawn when she is trying to avoid the family making comments about her sleep schedule.

"I'm getting pretty tired, Nonna." Clara yawns, opening the iron to reveal a beautifully patterned and warm pizzelle. "Can we finish up tomorrow?" Nonna appreciatively smiles at her granddaughter.

"Of course, Nutcracker."

Clara freezes inside every time she hears the nickname. It was given to her by her grandfather, and he was the only one to use it... until he died. Now, Nonna uses it to try and keep his memory alive, and Clara appreciates her grandmother's heart.

"Let's make Clar clean up." Nicholas rests his hand on his grandmother's back, slowly guiding her away from the counter.

"Nich-"

"I've got it." Clara smiles softly. "Ti amo, I'll see you in the morning."

"Ti amo, Clara Marie." Nonna kisses her granddaughter's cheek. Her lips are cracked and rough to the touch, but Clara knows nothing less and wants nothing less than her Nonna's peach lipstick marking her skin.

Nicholas takes Nonna back to their rooms while Clara carefully wipes the pizzelle iron with a warm washcloth, scraping away the burnt bits with her fingernail - the only way Nonna cleans it.

"Are those cookies?"

The voice startles Clara, and she drops the washcloth to the bottom of the sink. Looking over her shoulder, she finds the same dimple-cheeked boy studying the pizzelles that are cooling on the counter.

"Sorry?" Clara turns around fully, studying the boy up and down. Same dimples, same green eyes, same messy hair.

Same cable knit sweater.

"These..." He points to the counter. "Are these cookies? I've never seen them before."

"You've never seen pizzelles before?" Clara doesn't mean to get defensive immediately but, come on... they're pizzelles. An Italian treasure.

"No..." The boy whispers, suddenly frightened, in a good way, of this girl's enthusiasm towards a cookie.

Right then, Clara notices his accent. And she suddenly feels her heart against her ribcage. He's cute, British, and standing in front of her pizzelles.

"They're um, they're Italian cookies, yeah." She swallows, watching the way he admires the cookies.

"They're very... pretty." He comments, soon shaking his head to back up his thoughts. He has been distracting himself with pretty cookies while a prettier girl stands in front of him.

But he really wants one of those cookies.

So he reaches for one of the pizzelles on the counter and brings it to his mouth - all while Clara's jaw has gone slack.

"What the-"

"Mm, they're not bad!" The boy chuckles, somehow not expecting something so beautiful to taste so sweet.

"Those are ours! You can't just-"

"Learn the rules of the Lodge, sugar plum." He takes another bite. "If it's in the kitchen, it's fair game."

He did not just call her sugar plum. There is no way... no. No, it's a coincidence and she is going to ignore the breath it just breathed into her lungs. Her name is Clara, of course he would go with something Nutcracker themed. Right? Right. Except he doesn't know her name... so it's totally a coincidence. Right? Ok.

"The rules?" Clara crosses her arms over her body, suddenly annoyed that she ever found this jerk cute. "You own the place?" It's sarcasm, but she starts to think maybe he does.

"Something like that." The boy smirks, finishing off the cookie and quickly sucking each finger between his lips to lick them clean. "I think I'll take some to go-" He reaches for another but Clara quickly grabs the towel on her shoulder and cracks it against his wrist.

"Absolutely not." Her voice is stern. And that amuses him.

"Hm." His grin is mischievous, and as much as it boils her blood, she doesn't want to admit the way it flutters her heart, too. "What's your name?" His eyes narrow. "I've never seen you here before."

Maybe he does own the place, she thinks. But he's young, much like her age, so maybe his family does. And that intimidates her.

"I, um." She swallows. "I'm going to pack these up and go."

"Well I'm Harry." He brushes off her shyness. "Are you staying for the holiday?" She decides to ignore him, immediately beginning to collect the cookies into piles. Some of them haven't cooled fully, but she doesn't care. She would rather get out of here and away from this asshole.

He hates the way she ignores him. Well... he hates being ignored, in general.

"You're a weird one, sugar plum."

"Weird?" That gets her attention. "Don't fucking call me weird." She grumbles, packing the last pile of pizzelles into a small box and quickly wiping down the counter.

"Sorry, not what I meant." He backs away. "Just... not used to pretty girls ignoring me."

Oh. Clara scoffs. So he's cocky, too.

"Must bruise your ego a bit, hm?" She finally looks at him, but she instantly regrets it. Because as annoying as he is, he's still so fucking beautiful. "Don't steal my cookies next time." She picks up the box and purposefully brushes her hip against his as she walks out of the kitchen.

She doesn't notice that she's holding her breath until the elevator doors close and she's finally alone. The moments that just happened replay like a film reel over and over again in her head, and she can't quite figure out why she's so stuck on that boy from downstairs.

Harry. He said his name was Harry.

Charming. But delusional.

Not used to pretty girls ignoring me. Clara hates that she feels complimented by that, because she should've kicked his balls in for the way he acted.

But she does her best to shake the feeling of Harry as she makes it back to her lodge room. She keeps the pizzelles safe on the desk in her room while her brother snores logs into his pillow. She'll blame him for her lack of sleep in the morning, but it's really Harry's fault.

Harry... and Nonno – who never leaves her mind, either.

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24 December

Christmas Eve

Nicholas was insistent on skiing, and Nonna was even more insistent that Clara has fun with her little brother. Being stuck in the frigid air and rolling down mountains of snow is not what Clara considers fun.

The Bianco siblings generally know how to ski. Nonno took them a few times while he was alive – and he skied until he couldn't ski anymore. But Nick was always better at it, and Clara tried her best not to be miserable. She always tried her best for Nonno. But without him here... she knows she'll be miserable.

She already is.

"I am not starting on a diamond, Nick." Clara stares down the mountain as people pass her by – snowboards and skis, little kids with their parents, couples, friends.

"Oh come on!" He playfully hits his sister's shoulder. "It'll be fine, we'll go slow!"

"I haven't skied in years!" She groans. "I'll fall right on my ass."

"With that attitude you will." And before Clara can protest anymore, Nicholas is pushing himself off and down the steep slope. Clara would've much rather started on a circle or a square, or better yet, the bunny hill. But a diamond... the things she does for her family.

She pushes off with her poles, though she doesn't really know why she even has them. Nonno always taught them to ski without poles, and she was so used to not having them as a crutch. But they do give her a little bit more control, and Clara always grasps at control any chance that she gets.

Clara is obnoxiously one of the slowest skiiers on the diamond hill, Mort's Mountain, as it's titled. She hides her embarrassment within her goggles and concentrates on making it down the mountain without injury or... more embarrassment.

She already knows her brother will have annoying words when she meets him at the bottom, but she doesn't expect to see him talking with another skier.

Of course, she thinks, he always makes friends.

Nicholas is the charmer of the two Bianco siblings. Clara isn't shy, but it takes her a while to open up. And especially after the year that she has had... she doesn't seem to open up to anybody anymore.

"Took you long enough." Nicholas declares as his sister slowly slides in next to him. "This is Gracie." He gestures to the young girl in front of the two of them. "She comes here every Christmas."

Clara realizes how slow she was actually skiing if Nicholas was able to get that amount of information out of the conversation already. But Clara shakes it off, pulling down the neck warmer from her face and smiling. She holds out her gloved hand.

"I'm Clara, nice to meet you."

"Beautiful name." Gracie smiles, and Clara wants to run. The accent – that accent. The same as the boy's from the kitchen last night. "Nicholas said you two have never been here before." Gracie's cheeks are rosy, and even though it's cold, Clara can tell that the color is naturally there most days.

"Right." Clara swallows, offering her best smile. Every Christmas? Is that why he acted like he owned the place?

Clara saw him this morning, just briefly, in the lobby again. He was with this Gracie girl, and judging by the accent and dimples, Clara assumes they are siblings. Harry was on a leather-bound recliner, sitting in front of the fire, sipping a mug of coffee. He looked smug. He looked... snooty.

He looked expensive.

"Our grandma wanted to take us somewhere for Christmas this year." Nicholas explains to Gracie, and Clara realizes that she zoned out. Again.

In silence, Clara begs her brother not to mention why their grandmother took them to Vail for Christmas this year. And Nicholas immediately understands.

"So lovely of her." Gracie coos, smiling through chilled breath.

The three of them take the lift back up the mountain, and Clara has no idea how she got roped into skiing down another hill. But Gracie is... cute. Nice. Sweet.

Maybe she isn't related to Harry.

Gracie suggests that the three of them take the square slope this time, and Clara thanks her with a deep sigh of relief. Clara doesn't want to do another diamond... not today, at least.

On this hill, Nicholas stays with his sister, helping her along and skiing beside her. Gracie continues the conversation about the lodge at Vail.

Clara learns that Gracie's family quite literally comes every year to Vail. They arrive on the 21st of December and leave on the 3rd of January, and there is a regular group of visitors that stay every Holiday season. Gracie never mentions money, but Clara understands that they have a lot of it – more than the Biancos will ever dream to have in their lifetimes.

"My brother should be ready soon, is it okay if he joins us?" Gracie asks as they ski to the flattened surface at the bottom of the slope.

Clara swallows the words she actually wants to say. And instead?

"Sure." She weakly smiles, though it's hidden by the neck warmer pulled over her lips - and she's thankful it's hidden. She knows that no one in their right mind would buy the way she just attempted to smile.

"You can go in if you want, Clar." Nicholas rests his hand on his sister's shoulder. "We'll be fi-"

"Gray, you stole my gloves!"

Clara recognizes that voice - from the kitchen last night and from the countless times sugar plum replayed in her sleep.

When she turns around, Harry is walking towards the three of them - skis tucked under his left arm and gloves hanging from his right. He throws the gloves at Gracie, or Gray - Clara assumes that's a nickname - and Gracie catches the gloves against her coat.

"I like yours better." Gracie shrugs, holding out the gloves for Harry to take back. He rolls his eyes and snatches the gloves, reluctantly accepting them while setting down his skis. "H, this is Nicholas and Clara. This is their first time in Vail."

Harry bends down to adjust his skis when Clara's name leaves Gracie's lips - and all of the sudden, he's intrigued.

"Clara?" He looks up at her through frozen eyelashes. Clara freezes - from the cold, from him, whatever she wants to blame for the moment being.

"Clara." Nicholas confirms, nudging his sister and pulling her out of her frozen state. Nicholas shoots her a look, and Clara shakes her head - she knows that look. Nicholas thinks Clara is nervous, because Harry is cute, and Clara needs her brother to know that Harry is absolutely not who she wants to hang out with.

Not at all.

By complete, and an annoying amount of coincidence, the ski lift they head for is a two-person lift. And Nicholas is so lost in his conversation with Gracie that they take off on the lift without considering their siblings behind them.

"After you." Harry's voice is dramatic, like he wants Clara to laugh at him - but she doesn't. Instead, she moves forward and waits for the lift to come up behind her. Harry does the same.

Almost twenty full seconds of silence pass by the two as the chair lifts them high into the air.

"I don't like you, you know?" Clara regrets her words instantly, but then again, maybe she shouldn't. Maybe, for once this year, she should speak her mind.

"I know." He's smug about it, and that's what she hates. "All because of those cookies, huh?"

"You're an ass." Clara huffs, picking at the loose string hanging from the first finger of her left glove.

"I'm sorry about the cookie..." He dips his head down until he knows she can see him. "...Clara." She doesn't move a muscle, and for some reason, it makes him smile. "Clara? So, sugar plum..."

"Don't call me sugar plum." She grumbles, moving her gaze to stare at Nicholas and Gracie in the chair ahead of them.

"No sugar plum? Got it. Nutcrack-"

"No." Clara cuts him off before he can finish because... no. Absolutely not. Anything, absolutely anything, other than Nutcracker.

"Guess I'll stick with Clara then." He smiles, and still nothing changes in Clara's expression. "Look, I really am-"

Harry is interrupted by their sudden change in speed when the chair lift reaches the top and they're slowing down to get off. As soon as Clara's skis hit the ground, she takes off - and it's the only time she wishes to ski faster. Away from Harry.

Clara can't catch her brother, but she does her best to follow him and Gracie by the colors of their coats. She can feel Harry's presence close behind her, but she doesn't turn around.

Money always makes her bitter - and she wishes it wouldn't. But time and time again, it's on her mind... what she could do, see, if she had more of it. What it would've been like to grow up with it, to spend it freely, to feel secure. Safe.

Clara wishes she didn't immediately hate people who have it - because people like Gracie exist. Granted, they haven't spent a lot of time together, but Gracie doesn't speak like she's any better than Clara. She doesn't act like a snob.

But her brother-

"Oh hell no." The words fall from Clara's lips as soon as she sees the mountain her brother is staring down.

A double black diamond.

"Nick, absolutely not. I'm not going down this." She should've paid more attention to the lift, to anything, but she was distracted by Harry - more than she'd like to admit.

"We'll go slow-" Her brother starts to defend his decision, but Clara is rapidly shaking her head. And shaking... in fear. She can't. She won't. So she tries to turn around, running into a hard tall surface.

"Woah, sugar plum." Harry laughs, gripping onto her shoulders. "Can you see? Somethin' on your goggles?"

"Fuck off-"

"Clar." Nicholas huffs, shuffling beside his sister. "C'mon, I think there's a square just a little further." He tries to pull his sister but she still shakes her head.

"You go down." Clara swallows. "I'll... I'll find the square. I'll be fine." She offers her best smile through her neck warmer. Nicholas opens his mouth to protest, but he knows his sister better than that - she'll insist. She'll want to make sure she's not a burden on his fun.

"You sure?" Is all he asks, already knowing her answer. So when Clara nods, he nods back - and he motions for Gracie to come alongside him.

Clara watches her brother and his new friend leave the top of the hill, disappearing into the white abyss of snow. She breathes in the frigid air for a moment, closing her eyes, and missing her Nonno.

"It's really not that bad." He startles her, but she blames herself for forgetting he was there in the first place.

"Then go." She brushes past him, pushing on her poles towards the sign of trails at the top of this hill. She thinks she can make out a square on that map - so Nicholas was right.

"I'm not leaving you up here alone." He comes up behind her, but she keeps moving away. "Clara-"

"Leave me. I'll be fine." She huffs, knowing that it's not totally true. She's not a comfortable skier and now she's attempting to go down a slope alone? That scares her.

"Trust me." He calls out, over the wind and the whispers from the mountains. That stops her - his words stop her. "Don't you trust me?"

"Trust you?" She turns around slowly. "I just met you."

"And?" He chuckles, holding out his thickly gloved hand. "We'll go slow... it only looks steep from the top. I promise."

She contemplates it, and she doesn't like it, but there's something about the way his voice changed just now - softer. Even over the howling breezes, she could hear him so clearly.

"I..." No, she's not about to admit to him that she's scared. Instead, she takes a deep breath. "Fine."

"Sure?" He asks, and before she can convince herself to say no, she nods.

Clara skis slowly forward until she's by Harry's side again - and the two of them near the very top of the hill. Danny's Drop - a drop, Clara thinks, is the scariest fucking thing to name a ski slope.

But here goes nothing.

"Sideways, alright?" Harry steps ahead of her, positioning himself perpendicular to the mountain. "Sideways... and slow. Lean into the mountain and you can drag your poles if it gets too fast... we'll be down in no time." That was... oddly reassuring, Clara thinks. But she's too afraid to question him right now.

"Will you, um-" She swallows, her breath sticking in her throat.

"I'll stay ahead of you, yeah." He confirms, and it's the last thing he says before beginning his descent.

Clara stays close behind Harry, and even when he starts to speed up, he catches himself - slowing down until Clara is in his eyesight again. He can tell that she gains some confidence about a quarter way down the mountain. She goes a little bit faster, loosening up her ungodly grip on her poles. Her shoulders have relaxed, and he can't really see her face, but he just knows she has stopped biting her lip.

He's right.

There's a bit of a flat area when they're a few minutes from the bottom, and Clara catches herself wanting to take a break. She calls out to Harry who quickly nods and skis towards the side, shuffling himself between a row of trees.

Clara isn't quite sure she can stop herself the way he does, but she tries her best to push hard on her skis and drag her poles through the snow. She ends up a little bit lower than Harry, so he skis down to meet her.

"You okay? Was I going too fast?" He rips his helmet from his head, curls messily contrasting with the white snow all over. Clara doesn't want to admit that it takes her breath away - just for a moment.

"No." She slowly releases the air in her lungs. "Legs were tired, sorry." He shakes his head.

" 's fine." He pulls his goggles on top of his curls. "You were-" He clears his throat. "-doing really well."

She is thankful for the windburn on her cheeks, because without it, she'd be blushing. Annoyed, but blushing.

They stand in a weird silence for a few minutes, both of them catching their breath while they watch skiers fly down the open slope. Clara is ready to finish, she knows she is, but she doesn't want to be the first one to cut this silence.

"How do they feel now?" Harry steals her attention away from her thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Your legs." He lets out a small chuckle, puffs of white air forming around his lips as he breathes.

"Oh." The cold air gets stuck in her throat. "Y-Yeah. Better. Let's go." It was awkward, and she hates that. She wants to be down this mountain and back in the comfort of the heated lodge.

The bottom of the slope is a lot less steep, so Clara faces forward while she skis - keeping her stance wide and her skis angled inward. Harry skis right beside her, and it really isn't long until the lodge is back in their view.

Nicholas and Gracie are seated in one of the lodge's outdoor patios - nestled in by the firepit. Once Clara and Harry remove their skis, they meet their siblings around the warmth of the fire.

"How was the square?" Nicholas asks his sister, picking at his glove.

"I-"

"She went down Danny's." Harry interrupts Clara, which annoys her more. She takes off her goggles so that he can see her glare. It makes him laugh - she's cute when she's mad.

"No... shit." Nicholas' mouth is wide open. "Look, you survived it."

"And I'm never doing it again." Clara states, proudly. She really really wants to go inside, in the warmth, and check on her Nonna. But the four of them end up talking for a while - well, Nicholas and Gracie talk. Harry listens while Clara daydreams about what her Nonno would think of this place.

At some point, Gracie gets cold and Nicholas offers to take her inside. Their older siblings mumble goodbyes but stay seated - in more silence.

"Thank you." Clara's tongue moves faster than her brain, and she lets the words slip quickly. Harry's eyes and ears perk up, and he looks at Clara.

He really looks at her. Dark, silky hair - messy from her helmet. Brown eyes, flushed and rounded cheeks, perfect pink lips.

"For... getting me down the mountain." She clarifies, too afraid to take back her thank you. It would be a shitty thing to do, anyway.

"You're welcome." His voice is soft, and Clara wasn't expecting it. She wants to dislike him, to be taken aback by his cockiness. But there's something about the kindness he secretly displayed getting her to do something that scared her. "I should um-" He clears his throat, realizing that they're both staring at each other. "-we've got Christmas Eve dinner and-"

"Oh, y-yeah, us too-"

"Yeah-"

"-cool, yeah, ok."

They stutter over each other's words, standing from their seats and moving towards the same space to exit. Harry stops first, but then Clara does, too. And they awkwardly switch back and forth until they're not in each other's way.

Clara doesn't even know why she went the way that she did - it's in the opposite direction of the lodge. But she's too embarrassed by their awkward exit to turn around and follow him.

So she waits.

She waits an obnoxious amount of time, until she sees him disappear from the windows of the lobby. And then she goes inside.

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25 December

Christmas Day

The Biancos have an amazing and traditional Italian dinner for Christmas Eve, and their stomachs are happy and stuffed when they go to bed for the night. Everyone dances around the topic of eating and drinking without Nonno, but it's all Clara can think about.

She barely sleeps, waking up on Christmas morning with a few tears in her eyes. It's okay, she tells herself, at least it isn't the New Year yet.

They all exchange gifts, cozying up in Mr. and Mrs. Bianco's room. Nothing is too big or too grand, but it's special. They're together, and even without Nonno, being together has always been what's most important to them.

Christmas spirit is heavy throughout the lodge and the little village surrounding them. The Biancos take time walking in the snow together, peering into shops and tasting pieces of fudge from a bakery nearby.

Nonno was a sucker for fudge.

The day, thankfully, is relaxing and quiet and wholesome. Only once does Clara catch her Nonna crying while taking a bite of her fudge. But Nonna quickly wipes away the tears and hugs her granddaughter, telling her that everything is alright.

Clara and Nicholas find themselves in the lobby of the lodge once the sun goes down. Gracie swears by the lodge's eggnog, and Nicholas convinces his sister to join. Clara knows there's a good chance she'll see Harry, and she's right.

He sips from a dark green mug, a line of foam resting gently on his upper lip as he pulls the mug away. He quickly cleans the foam off with his tongue, laughing at something his sister said, when his eyes catch Clara's.

The four of them sit on leather sofas next to the Christmas tree and large fireplace. Clara waltzes into the kitchen to look for the eggnog, and Harry follows her there.

"Here." He slides a bottle of brandy across the metal countertop, and Clara catches it quickly before it falls. "Spike 'em a bit."

"What abou-"

"Not theirs." Harry shakes his head. "Just put a little bit in ours." He smiles. "It'll make them better... promise." She is skeptical for a moment, but she slowly opens the brandy.

"I still don't like you, you know." She says while she pours.

"I know." He sighs, scratching his neck like it doesn't bother him - but it does. Harry likes to be liked, and he isn't convinced Clara is different from the rest of his... friends.

But then again - he wants her to be different.

After a few rounds of eggnog and storytelling by the fire, the four of them find their way into Gracie's room - and a nice room at that. It's a beautiful suite with a king bed, two sofas, and a large TV.

The Styles siblings have a longstanding tradition of watching Love Actually in Gracie's room late on Christmas. So they add the Bianco siblings to the tradition this year.

She's not sure how, but Clara ends up on the sofa next to Harry - an awkward distance away. The brandy in the eggnog is making her giggly, and while Nicholas has fallen asleep on Gracie's shoulder, Clara is wide awake and smiling so hard at the scenes of the movie.

"Are you cold?" Harry's voice brings her out of her little tipsy bubble, though Clara can't help but smile when she nods and Harry brings the two of them a blanket to share.

Once she gets a bit of the warmth from the blanket, she realizes how cold she actually is. She doesn't notice, but her teeth chatter a little bit as she holds the blanket up to her chin.

"Clara." Harry laughs, nudging her thigh with his foot.

"What?" She raises her eyebrows - her eyes half shut from the drinking and her sleepiness.

"C'mere, you're freezing."

Without any hesitation, Clara leans into Harry's open arms. And it's not until they're touching that her heart picks up and she realizes what she's doing. She's... cuddling him.

"Harry-"

"I don't bite, sugar plum." He tightens his grip on her, their legs resting beside each other underneath the blanket.

"Just pizzelles." She rolls her eyes, making him laugh louder. He makes sure he didn't just wake up his sister or Nicholas before turning back to Clara. "You know, I-"

"You still don't like me." He smiles to himself, letting his hand slowly rest on her shoulder." "I know, sugar plum." He thinks she'll say something smart back to him, but she doesn't.

Instead, she seems to curl her body even further towards him. Her head rests high on his shoulder, enough that her hair tickles his neck. So he rests his head on top of hers, and his fingers lightly play with the ends of her hair.

"Merry Christmas, Clara." He realizes he hasn't said it yet to her, and maybe it doesn't have any significance to her, but he still hopes she had a good day.

"Mm." She mumbles, sleepy breaths leaving her nose and causing goosebumps over Harry's neck. "Merry Christmas, Harry." It's barely a mumble, but she said it. And she says nothing else as the movie lulls her to sleep with the brandy in her system.

Harry doesn't fall asleep for another twenty minutes, and frankly, he's too afraid to breathe with the girl he just met wrapped around him like she is. In all of those twenty minutes, her arms have found their way to his torso, and she has locked her legs together with his. Maybe it's the warmth or the brandy, but Harry falls asleep by the comfort of the stranger next to him.

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26 December

Clara's mind wakes up before her eyes open - and she is confused by the way her body is rhythmically moving up and down. Up... and down. Up... like breathing. But not her breathing. It's like... like... oh my god.

Her eyes shoot wide open when she realizes that her head is resting against Harry's chest. Up and down. Up... and down. Without moving, she looks up - watching his top lip hang slightly over his bottom. Soft breaths leave those lips, and she can feel the smallest bit of air brush past her forehead when he exhales.

She then looks for her brother - who has seemingly disappeared, along with Gracie. So she is alone, with Harry, a stranger she just met at a ski lodge in Vail.

"Harry." She harshly whispers. She would attempt to get out of his grasp but... she can't. His right leg is wrapped around her entire lower body, and her arms are hooked around him - stuck beneath his back.

He mumbles a few words that she can't understand, but his grip tightens around her in the process.

"Harry-"

"...warm." She watches him grin to himself, eyes still closed. "You're warm, stay." He grumbles, hands splayed on her back as he presses their bodies closer.

As awkward as this is... she has to admit that it's comfortable. She hates that it's comfortable but... why? Why can't she let a comfortable thing happen just once?

"You snore like a dolphin." He mumbles next, and that causes her to shift just a bit, lifting her head up even higher.

"...excuse me?"

"Little cute squeaks." He laughs, still yet to open his eyes.

"I do not snore-"

"Oh yes you do." His eyes finally begin to open. They're a softer green than Clara remembers from last night - but maybe it's because they're so tired.

Or maybe it's because she's so close.

"This is weird, huh?" He looks down at her, stricken by the softness in her own brown eyes. Her makeup is a little smudged from the day before, but just enough that it somehow brightens her eyes even more.

"Very." She whispers, but she doesn't move. Instead, they stare at each other - green into brown and brown into green. At some point, his left dimple caves in, and it makes Clara's heart skip a beat. "I should go." She breathes out, not sure that she has blinked in the last five minutes.

"Ok." He won't stop her, because that would be weird - right? But why does he want to? And why does Clara want him to stop her, too?

Eventually, they untangle their limbs and Clara slides around his body, off of the sofa. She grabs any of her belongings and heads towards the door of Gracie's lodge room.

"Clara?" She turns around instantly, finding Harry standing up and looking right at her. "Have you ever been ice skating?"

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27 December

Ice skating is no fucking joke. After another long day with her family yesterday, Clara was oddly looking forward to an ice skating lesson with Harry. But now that she's here, cold and wobbling on weak ankles... she's not so sure it was a good idea.

"I'm just not good at this, Harry. We should st-"

"Nope, c'mon, just have t' find your balance." Harry reaches forward quickly to grab onto Clara's arms, noticing that she's wobbling again. "Do me a favor, sugar plum." Harry chews on the inside of his lip. "Close your eyes."

"Absolutely not-"

"Trust me."

Clara is getting really tired of Harry wanting her to trust him, considering they are still strangers. Well, strangers who spent Christmas night on the same couch together.

"Fine." She grumbles, mostly because she doesn't want to fight him. But also... because he doesn't feel like a stranger anymore. And though she still doesn't like him, maybe she can trust him again... just a little bit.

"Good girl." He smirks to himself, but her eyes immediately open. Something resembling a growl leaves her throat and Harry laughs, gripping tighter onto her arms. "Close 'em... and pretend you're skiing. Find that balance and squat - trust the strength in your thighs."

"The strength in my... thighs?" She squints to open her eyes just a bit, and she catches him staring down at her legs.

"They got you down that, um, that mountain the other day. They've gotta be strong, sugar plum." His voice is soft as he focuses on her body. He doesn't mean to stare, but maybe he does. Maybe he really is overwhelmed by her, by Clara, and maybe he's starting to realize that this girl is more than just a cute guest at the lodge.

"Ok." She breaks the silence of his stare, and now he's embarrassed that she caught him looking.

"Sorry." He whispers, but his grip on her arms still hasn't loosened.

"I'm ready." Clara can tell he's embarrassed, and not just by the pink in his cheeks. So she prepares herself to skate with his help and... it works.

She keeps her eyes closed, being pulled slowly by Harry as he skates backwards in front of her. After a while, Clara gets used to the way she can balance, and her ankles stop aching. So she opens her eyes.

"Doing great, Clara." He pulls her along. "Now start to push yourself forward, I'm going to let go, ok?"

"Ok." She nods, but she's scared - she's not a fan of falling.

On her own, Clara is still wobbly. But she is stronger - Harry was right, she needed to trust the strength in her thighs. Harry stays skating backwards, watching her every move to make sure she doesn't fall.

And when she stumbles just a little bit forward, he catches her, skating the two of them to the side of the rink.

"You ok?" He asks, and she quickly nods, catching her breath.

"Thank you." She swallows. "I, um, don't like to fall."

"Does anyone?" He grins, but Clara isn't amused. Until... until she looks at him, really looks at him. Green eyes that consume her, lips that are dry from the air but still make sense on his face, and dimples. Dimples she gets lost in.

"Dimples." She speaks out loud, by accident, but out loud.

"What?" He chuckles, still holding onto her. She's stable now, balanced on her skates, but he doesn't want to let go.

"Your dimples." She points at his face with her glove.

"What about them?" His smirk is devilish, full of himself, and Clara remembers why she disliked him in the first place.

"Nothing." She rolls her eyes. "I'm done, Harry. Let's go inside."

"Oh, come on, sugar plum... you can't be mad at me because you like my dimples."

"Yes, I can." She huffs, turning around and skating towards the exit of the rink. Harry is fast enough that he could catch up, but it's clear she wants this moment to 'storm off.' So he lets her have it.

He watches from a distance as she unties her skates and fastens her boots back on her feet. He does the same, but slower, allowing her to get ahead.

When he gets back to the lobby of the lodge, he's not sure where to find her - but he has an idea. So he makes his way into the lodge's kitchen, and there she sits, a half-eaten pizzelle in her hand.

"Sugar plummmm." He sings out, but she pays him no attention.

"Thought I told you not to call me that."

"Days ago." He pulls a stool next to her and takes a seat, leaning on the counter to try and capture her gaze. But she stares down at the cookie. "How do I get ya to like me, Clara? Hm? Should I beg?"

"Ha." She laughs, breaking off another piece of the pizzelle and putting it in her mouth.

"Alright, I get it, I'm awful. I ate your cookie without asking and I'm an ass, yeah? I'm sorry, Clara." He's frustrated, but so is she. Frustrated with herself.

How does she let someone in after almost a year of shutting herself out? Shutting herself down? This is a stranger at a ski lodge in Colorado, yet he feels like... so much more. And she's not sure how to handle that. So she walked away - because that's what she does when something scares her.

Harry stands to leave, but Clara breaks the last piece of the pizzelle in half and presents it to him.

"I'm sorry, too." She whispers, finally looking up at him. "I haven't given you much of a chance." Harry takes the cookie, and their fingertips ghost past each other. "You're still an ass, but-"

"Alright, I get it." He chuckles, putting the cookie between his lips. "Let's start over?" She nods back at him. "I'm Harry-" He places his hand out for her to shake. "-come here every Christmas."

"Clara." She shakes his hand. "Never been before."

"Clara? A lovely name for a lovely girl." Before Clara can pull her hand away, Harry brings it to his lips - and her heart freezes. "Isn't that right, sugar plum?"

Who is this Harry and what has he done with the other?

"R-Right." She wants to pull her hand away, but she is still frozen and his lips are still pursed to her skin.

"Those cookies are delicious, by the way." He mumbles against her hand, eventually lowering it to the counter and pulling his own hand away.

"Thank you."

Clara stands from the stool, and a look of disappointment crosses over Harry's face - until he realizes she's going for another container of the pizzelles. And she opens it right in front of him.

"Have more."

It's a cookie, just a cookie, but something about the offer makes Harry's lips curl into the biggest smile. And seeing his smile jumpstarts Clara's heart again - she thought maybe it stopped working when he kissed her hand.

"I do like your dimples." She admits, her voice small and timid, afraid of ruining this new beginning for the two strangers.

"They like you, too." He reaches for another pizzelle, keeping eye contact with Clara as he takes a bite. It's almost... intimate. A little bit sensual. Or maybe she's overthinking everything and this is a disaster.

"I'm... gonna go to bed." She closes the container, putting it back where it was resting on the counter. His eyes still haven't left her. And though he's disappointed in her abrupt exit, he understands. He feels like he can read her, for being a stranger and all. He can read her, and she's living in her head.

She needs the night to think this over - to think Harry over.

"Goodnight, Clara."

"Goodnight, dimples."

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28 December

Clara stays up most of the night thinking about Harry. Thinking about his lips on her hand, his fingertips brushing past hers, the way 'Clara' sounds on the tip of his tongue.

Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara.

A lovely name for a lovely girl.

Sugar Plum.

It stays drilled in her mind through the night and into the morning. This time, Clara is the one who suggests some skiing. She tries to play it off like it's just something she wants to... practice. But her brother can see right through her.

"I'll... invite Gracie? And her brother? If that's... okay with you?" The grin on Nicholas' lips irks Clara to her core, but she'd be lying to him and herself if she said she didn't want Harry there.

"Sure." She shrugs, pretending to be casual. A small laugh escapes Nicholas' lips, but he hides it when his sister shoots him an unamused look.

So the Bicano siblings meet the Styles siblings at the ski lift a few hours later. Nicholas rides beside Gracie, and Harry takes his place next to Clara.

"How'd you sleep?" Harry asks, nudging her ski with his own as it dangles in the air.

"Not good." She tells him the truth, staring at their skis that have almost intertwined.

"Me either." He whispers, though she can still hear him over the wind. Their eyes would meet if it weren't for their goggles, but they at least catch the smiles on each other's lips. And Clara is the one who nudges his ski this time.

They don't speak for the rest of the lift up the mountain, but Harry moves closer to her. And she moves closer to Harry. They might as well be on top of each other by the time they're skiing off the lift and meeting their siblings around the corner.

Nicholas picks an easy slope for them, mostly because he wants all of them to have fun skiing - even his sister. So the first few trails are fun. All four of them laugh and mess with each other, racing over certain hills and in between obstacles.

Now, Harry and Clara wait at the top as Nicholas and Gracie race down The Vortex. It's supposed to be one of the easier trails, but there are parts of it that look pretty steep - and Clara is putting on a brave face for the time being.

"So, I guess we-"

"Shit!"

Harry's words are interrupted by the sound of Gracie screaming, and her older brother immediately takes off after her down the mountain. Clara is close behind, worried by the noise and the look on Harry's face.

"Fuck." Harry grumbles to himself, seeing his sister laying in the snow with Nicholas hovering over her. "I'm here, hey, I'm here, what happened?"

Harry rips his skis from his boots, tossing them to the side and running to his sister's side.

"I'm okay-"

"Her ski got caught on something, I don't know what it was." Nicholas breathes out quickly. "It whipped her around and then-"

"Gray, hey, gonna take off your goggles, okay?"

"Harry, I'm fine-"

"What hurts?" He panics, fumbling with her goggling so much that he ends up snapping them back on her face.

"Well now my fuckin' eyes hurt..." She groans, tossing her head back in the snow. "It's my ankle." She takes a deep breath. "Not broken, but... yeah, it hurts." Her voice is pained, as she starts to sit herself up.

"Stop." Harry grabs her shoulders.

"I didn't hit my head, H." She pushes against his hands and eventually sits up to stare at her twisted ski. "I... um, don't think I can stand on it."

"Clar." Harry turns to the frightened girl behind him, and she is ignoring the way her heart ignited at the cute shortening of her name. "Can you ski down the rest of the way? Get ski patrol?"

Clara swallows any bit of fear and immediately nods. Gracie is hurt, her brother is scared, and Harry is... distraught.

"Of course, yeah, yes." Without another word, Clara is skiing straight down The Vortex. It's steep and fast, and she is not in total control of the skis beneath her. But she stays focused on the lodge that she sees in the distance. She scours the area for the ski patrol office, and when she spots it, she doesn't hesitate to ski faster.

It takes about twenty minutes for the patrol to get to Gracie and for the boys to ski down the rest of the way by themselves. Nicholas immediately hugs his sister when he gets to the bottom, thanking her for getting help.

Harry squeezes Clara's arm through her coat and then rushes after the medics that took his sister.

Another hour passes when the Bianco siblings are met with the Styles siblings in the lodge's lobby. Gracie hobbles in on a pair of crutches and Harry rests his hand on her back, helping her to slowly move forward.

"Didn't have to amputate." Gracie smiles, making everyone laugh as Nicholas offers up his seat on the leather sofa.

"High ankle sprain." Harry tells the siblings the truth, and they nod in understanding. He still seems a bit shaken up, so when he sits next to Clara, she immediately rests her hand on his thigh.

"She's okay." Clara whispers, and Harry turns to her quickly. He eyes up her hand on his leg, but she doesn't move. He doesn't want her to move.

"She's okay." Harry confirms. "Thank you..." Harry chews on his lip. "You... I watched you ski down and you were going so fast, I- I didn't realize you'd have to go that fast and-"

"Hey." Clara squeezes his thigh. "I'm fine. It was fine. I'm just glad she's okay."

"But you could've gotten hur-"

"Harry." He likes the way she says his name. It nauseates him, it turns his stomach and tightens his throat. But he wants her to say it again. Over and over. "Harry." Again, she says it, and he yearns for just one more time. "Helloooo?" She laughs. "Harry-"

"Sorry." He shakes his head, swallowing the knot in his throat and a little bit of his pride. "Just, um, thank you."

Eyes lock, and it freezes both of them for the moment. Green. Brown. Innocent. Reckless. Yearning.

"Can we watch another movie?" Gracie's voice interrupts their intimate staring contest, and suddenly the four of them are making their way towards the elevator.

Clara doesn't even know what movie Nicholas turns on, because she is so focused on the bouncing knee of the boy next to her. She really isn't sure what to say to help calm him, because she isn't sure what's wrong. But she doesn't want to pry or force him to talk, especially in a room with both of their siblings.

So instead, she pulls a blanket over the both of them and she leans into him just a little bit. It stops the bouncing in his knee.

For the second time this week, Clara and Harry fall asleep next to each other. Nicholas helps Gracie to bed, propping her foot up on some pillows and then making his way back to his own room. But they leave their older siblings together on the couch.

And somewhere between Clara's dolphin snores and Harry's leg twitching, he wakes up to find the once stranger almost on top of him. But instead of moving, he smiles, and he gently runs his fingers through her hair.

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29 December

"You like him, Nutcracker." Nonna has been bugging Clara about Harry all through dinner. It's partially Nicholas' fault, because he has been reporting everything he sees to his Nonna - he can't help it. It both annoys his sister and helps her out.

She has been missing someone special in her life, and not just since Nonno passed.

"Nonna..."

"You can't lie to your old grandmother, now can you?" Nonna raises her eyebrow. Clara laughs and groans together, letting her face fall into her hands.

"I... I just met him, Nonna."

"So? What have I always told you about your Nonno?" Clara sighs, knowing this was where the conversation was headed. And though her grandmother is trying to make a point, Clara still secretly loves the story.

"He saw you and he knew... and three days later, he had you." Sometimes Nonna exaggerates her stories, but Nonno always backed her up on this one. He fell in love with her instantly, so Nonno always pushed Clara to go after her gut instinct - because Nonno's instincts had never let him down before.

"You're scared, little Nutcracker, aren't you?" Nonna doesn't need a verbal answer from Clara. She already knows by the way her granddaughter stares down at the table and avoids any eye contact. "Don't be." Nonna reaches forward to grip onto Clara's arm. "You are giovane... bellissima..." Young. Beautiful. "Listen to tua cuore." Your heart.

"Thanks, Nonna." Clara squeezes her grandmother's hand.

She knows that Nonna is right.

But that doesn't make her any less afraid.

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30 December

"The New Year's Eve party... it's a tradition. The lodge goes all out every year." Gracie explains as the four of them sit in the hot tub on the back deck of the lodge.

"It's a pretty sick party." Harry confirms, smiling to himself. "And they sneak their favorite families extra drinks-" As soon as he sees Clara's unamused face, he shuts himself up. Trying not to be an ass. Right.

"What's the dress code?" Nicholas asks.

"Black tie." Gracie sighs. "It's annoying, but it's pretty formal."

While Gracie tells Nicholas about the places in town where he can find a suit to rent, Harry swims up beside Clara, throwing his arm on the edge of the tub - just behind her back.

"Come to the party." He could tell she was hesitating, even from across the water.

"Harry-"

"Don't overthink it." He lets his fingers gently rest on the top of her shoulder. She sinks lower into the water, trying to hide her goosebumps. "Just say yes."

"Say yes to going or say yes to..."

"Say yes to me."

Clara freezes once again in the presence of Harry. Their eyes are locked, and it's then that Gracie decides to get Nicholas and let their siblings work this one out. So they escape the water in almost silence, and Harry and Clara stay looking at each other.

"Say yes to me." Harry repeats in a whisper. Even though they're alone, he feels like their air is fragile. He's too afraid to break the moment. "Say yes to me, lovely girl."

"I don't have a dress." It's her only defense. Other than that... she has to say yes.

"I'll get you a dress." Harry's hand trails over her bare shoulder, tracing his fingertips on her skin like she's a delicate porcelain doll. He turns to her, and she feels the gasp in her throat. "I'll handle the dress, sugar plum, just..." He lowers his head, placing his lips gently on the shoulder closest to him. "...say yes to me."

"Yes." Clara breathes, watching every move he makes. His lips purse to her skin again, sending her heart soaring through her chest. "Yes." She repeats, unsure if she ever said it in the first place.

He kisses further up her shoulder, and Clara's body fully comprehends his movements. She turns her back to him as he kisses towards her neck. Goosebumps and shivers and every feeling imaginable decorates her skin. She reaches for his hand in the water, finding it just next to her thigh. And she intertwines their fingers, making sure he's real. Making sure this is real.

"Clara." He whispers her name, leaving a kiss just beneath her ear. A whimper leaves her throat, and she doesn't mean for it to sound so desperate. "Tell me I'm not crazy."

"You're not crazy." She closes her eyes, leaning back into his touch.

"Didn't even listen to what I wanted to say." He laughs, biting softly at the lobe of her ear. "Tell me I'm not crazy, sugar plum... for being crazy about you."

She wants to blame the cold and frigid air for the way she freezes once again. But she can't, and she is kidding herself to blame anything other than him. Harry. The boy, no longer a stranger, with dimples that turn her stomach inside out.

His lips aren't bad either.

"Not crazy." She whispers, leaning her head back on his shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist. His chin rests in the crook of her neck as they stare out into the snow-covered mountains together. "I feel crazy, too." She admits, pretending that his fingers digging into her side aren't sending her body into a beautiful panic.

"Because we just met." It's not a question, because he knows it's the reason they feel insane for... feeling.

"Because we just met." She confirms, resting her hands on top of his and squeezing. "What happens when..." When she leaves. When he leaves. When they never see each other again.

"I don't want to think about that right now, sugar plum."

"Me neither."

It's a long time that they sit in the hot tub, pruning skin and beating hearts. Their eyes grow heavy, tired from the warmth of the water and the warmth of each other. It's reluctant, but Clara is the one who initiates their journey inside.

"What time's the party tomorrow?" She asks him, holding onto his hand as they walk through the halls of the lodge.

"Meet me at eight? In front of the tree?" He asks, squeezing her hand as they approach her door.

"Ok." Clara isn't sure how to exit. She doesn't want to drop his hand, but then again, she doesn't want to leave him at all.

So Harry initiates this time - leaning forward to kiss her cheek and softly wish her a goodnight.

She wishes Harry was the only one on her mind tonight, but once her head hits her pillow, Nonno crawls into her brain.

New Year's Eve and New Year's Day were his favorites - it was new. Fresh. The opportunity to start over, to resolve past arguments and grudges, to set new goals and ideals about the upcoming year.

Nonno would ask everyone to say their resolutions at the dinner table - he made loads and loads of pasta for their New Year's feast, and no one was allowed to leave the table until their plates were clean.

Ten months without him and Clara still feels stuck - she feels like it's impossible to set a resolution when Nonno doesn't exist in the New Year. And how is that fair? How is it fair that the world keeps turning and the days keep happening without him?

All she wanted was to be at the beach, to spend this Holiday with her friends at school - to be as far away from any New Year's celebration as possible.

But when she exits the shower the next morning, a dark and beautiful red dress appears on her freshly made bed. A dress full of sequins and sparkle and... hope. A hopeful dress with a note attached.

Thank you for saying yes to me, sugar plum.

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31 December

She stares at the dress for an hour. Maybe two. It's gorgeous, and expensive, and she doesn't want to touch it. She knows it probably costs a semester worth of her tuition, and how is she worthy of even looking at such a thing?

"Put it on already." Her brother groans, straightening his tie in the mirror.

"Nick, look at it." She runs her hand through her hair. "It has to be like... like thousands of dollars-"

"So?" Nicholas huffs, walking over to his sister. "Listen, Clar." They stare forward at their reflections in the mirror. "You haven't had a good night in, I don't know, ten months?"

"Nick-"

"No, listen." He rests his hands on her shoulders. "Harry is fun, nice, and he clearly really fucking likes you." Clara feels the emotion rising from her stomach to her throat. "Have fun... real fun. Fun that you haven't had in ten months. You deserve it."

No more words need to be said by her brother, because Clara is already turning around and hugging him until it hurts. They might annoy the shit out of each other sometimes, but they're a good pair. They know what they need from each other, and especially after Nonno's passing... they know how to be there for each other.

Clara stays reluctant the entire time she's getting ready, but she puts on her best makeup and styles her best hair before slipping into the beautiful red dress. It's... perfect. It fits like a glove and brings out every feature that Clara didn't even know she had, let alone features she actually likes.

She would spend forever fixing her face and hair in the mirror if it wasn't already eight o'clock. So she heads downstairs to the Christmas tree in the lobby, and there he stands.

A black suit and a matching red tie.

His hair is done, but it doesn't take away from his precious curls that Clara drools over every time. And when he sees her... dimples. Dimples so deep that her stomach fills with butterflies. And any worry she had about tonight... gone. Disappearing into the cold, cold night.

She just sees Harry.

"Fuck." He whispers, but Clara hears him and giggles. "Sorry, sorry, I- wow."

"You look... nice." She approaches him, not sure what to do when they're finally face to face. "For someone I still don't like." A smile bigger than Clara could ever hope for spreads over Harry's face.

"You really are crazy, sugar plum." He grabs her hips, pulling her in until their bodies press together. "Now come dance with me."

Gracie wasn't lying when she said this New Year's Eve party was a big deal. Everyone is dressed to the nines, sipping champagne and mingling with each other. It feels... more exquisite than anything Clara will ever experience again in her lifetime, but she experiences the entire night right next to Harry.

And it helps. He helps. He keeps her mind distracted and away from Nonno. He keeps her smiling and giggling, tummy bubbling with champagne. He keeps her dancing and swaying to every new song, whether they know what the band is playing or not.

And by the time it's close to midnight, the two not-so-strangers are already slow dancing to the last song of the year.

"Thank you." Harry tugs on Clara's waist, trying to pull her in closer - it doesn't seem possible.

"For what?" Clara asks, thumbs playing with the collar of his jacket.

"Giving me another chance." He leans forward until their foreheads meet, and a small gasp leaves Clara's lips. "Saying yes to me." He breathes. "Being crazy with me."

"Harry?" Clara closes her eyes, swaying to the nonexistent song as the band switches over and the countdown from thirty begins.

Thirty.

"Sugar plum?"

Twenty-Seven.

"I get to thank you, too."

Twenty-Three.

"For getting me down that mountain."

Nineteen.

"For the dress."

Sixteen.

"For making me feel again."

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Harry knows he'll kiss her, and Clara knows it, too. So there's no point in wasting time, and there's no point in wasting Clara.

With four seconds to go, Harry moves his hands from her waist to her neck. And he pulls her as close as he can possibly have her.

Three. Two. One.

"Happy New Year, Clara."

He doesn't let her answer, because he just needs so badly to kiss her - so he does. It's quick and hungry and maybe a little too passionate for a public setting. But neither of them seem to care. They've spent a week and two days resisting this urge, and it finally feels like they aren't crazy.

Like this was meant to happen.

Harry kisses her lips over and over, leaving small pecks as the band begins to play and confetti falls around them. Clara giggles, whispering Happy New Year, Harry against his lips. And all he does is kiss her again and again.

His thumb tugs at her chin, pulling her lips apart ever so slightly. And he kisses her more - harder, deeper. Their tongues meet and all it does is warm Clara's stomach, making her smile.

"Get out of here with me." He whispers against her lips, dimples carved deep and never leaving his cheeks.

"And where would we go?" She laughs, trying to back away. But he doesn't let her. Instead, his hand's grip tightens on her waist, and their bodies press together as close as they can.

"Follow me." He kisses her cheek. " 've got an idea, sugar plum." The nickname halts Clara's heartbeat for a moment, only to speed it up as he tugs on her hand. She follows him through the sea of people, and Auld Lang Syne starts to fade out. She takes a second to thank her Nonno for the New Year. He was watching over her, over their entire family.

And now, respectfully, she needs him to look away.

"Harry-" Clara tries to protest as they enter the elevator, but before she can finish her sentence, her wrists are both pinned above her head.

"Trust me." He growls, attacking her neck with his tongue and teeth. By instinct, her hips push forward into his. And he grins and the reaction he has caused. "Only another minute, love."

"Tell me where we're going."

"Don't you trust me?" His forehead rests on hers, and he lets go of her wrists. Instead of letting them fall to her side, she hooks them around his neck.

"I just met you." She tries to keep a serious face, except she can't help but smile when he's looking at her like that.

"And?" He dips his head in to kiss her hard, grinding his body against hers until a whimper escapes her throat. "Sounds like you're okay with a stranger taking you to his suite."

"His suite-" Her eyes widen as Harry backs away. The elevator doors open to reveal one singular hotel room door. The suite of this lodge. The Nutcracker suite - the one that no one ever uses... "How...?"

"My family rents it but we hardly ever use it." He pulls her out of the elevator and she stumbles on her shocked feet to the hallway. "Would be a shame to let it go to waste." Her heart speeds up - with nerves, with excitement, with the lingering effects of her champagne.

He slips his keycard into the slot on the door, and Clara's breathing stops as the door opens. A beautiful, grand, presidential suite stands before them.

But Harry doesn't give a shit about the way the place looks. He wants Clara. All he has wanted for the past week and two days has been Clara. And now he finally has her.

The door closes and she is immediately pressed against it. Their lips meet quickly, desperately, like they've been waiting all their lives for a kiss, for a person, like this.

"Is it too fast, Clara?" Harry breathes, leaving kisses and love bites along her jaw. She whines as his tongue works delicately just below her ear - that's the spot that ruins her.

He ruins her.

"Lovely girl, talk, c'mon." His voice is low, almost growling against her skin. "Tell me if this is okay."

"This is okay." The words spill quickly from her lips as her arms tighten around his neck.

"Just okay?"

"Perfect." She whimpers, hips pushing into his. "Perfect, Harry, please... just..."

"I'll take care of you." His knee finds its way between her legs. "Let me take care of you."

"Take care of me." She gives into his pleas with a plea of her own, tossing her head back the moment his thigh pushes up against her heat. "Harry-" The whine that leaves her throat is somewhat pathetic, maybe a little bit more than.

She has forgotten everything she thought she knew about physical touch - because she refused to let anyone touch her for almost a year. But Harry... Harry is different. Harry is Harry. And as much as she wants to blame the Holiday spirit for the sudden rush he gives her... she knows it's more than that.

She knows that it's him. Them. Together.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He tugs on the lobe of her ear with his teeth. "So desperate for someone to touch you." He reads her mind, and she hates it. But then again, she doesn't. Because it's him.

"You." She pants. "For you to touch me-" Another whimper leaves her lips when his thigh presses deeper. Harder. And her eyes pinch shut.

"Good girl." He kisses down her neck and to her collarbone. "Keep moving, wanna make you feel so good." She lets her weight fall until only his thigh is holding her up, and her head falls to his shoulder.

"Oh my god." Her clit throbs against the thin material of her lace underwear, and she can feel herself leaking onto the top of his pants.

" 's right, feels good, so good." He coos, weaving his fingers through her hair and pushing their bodies closer together. "What d' you need, sugar plum?"

"You." Her voice is muffled against his suit but her grinding has gotten faster, more desperate.

"Me?" His hands run down her back to squeeze at the flesh of her ass. "What part of me?"

"All of you." She cries. "Harry..."

"All of me?" He pulls his thigh away and immediately drops to his knees. "How about my tongue?" He growls, bunching her dress apart at the high slit and staring directly at the black lace covering her heat. "My tongue and my fingers and my-"

"Yes, yes, all of it, please." Her desperate whimpers harden him even more, and he shifts in his pants while leaving delicate kisses on the inside of her thighs.

"Hold your dress up for me, baby." Baby has her tossing her head back to the wall again, and her chest moves rapidly back and forth as she tries to find the air to breathe.

Clara grabs the bunching of her dress and squeezes the material until it seems to drip through her fingers. Harry trails his kisses over the black lace, breathing hot whispers onto her clothed heat.

His fingers run from her ankles to the tops of her thighs, and his heart beats faster at the goosebumps that form all over her skin.

"Wanna taste you." He whispers, dipping his fingers into her underwear and slowly dragging the material over her thighs. Her whining gets louder as his kisses get closer and closer. He drops her underwear to her ankles and uses both hands to push her thighs apart. And then his lips are wrapped around her sensitive clit.

"Harry..."

He can't believe the way she reacts to him - so fluid and weak and putty in his hands. He can't help it when one of his hands leaves her thigh to rub over the tightness in his pants. A moan escapes him.

"So sweet, sugar plum... so fucking sweet." His tongue dives into her and works magic. Christmas magic, New Year's magic, alcohol magic, whatever fucking magic there could possibly be - Clara believes in it.

And as Harry learned from those pizzelles, beautiful things really do taste so sweet.

"More, Harry, please more-" She cries, almost ripping her dress apart from the clenching of her fists.

"Anything you want, Clara, anything..." His fingers are inside of her within seconds, and her back arches off the wall with a moan from deep within her throat. "That's it, love, scream for me. Be as loud as you need..." His fingers curl until he reaches the spot that makes her legs tremble.

She drops the dress and grips at the ends of his curls - the dress canopies around him, creating a blanket of darkness where all he sees is her cunt dripping for him, right in front of his eyes.

"Please, please come up here." She finds the strength to speak. "Please fuck me."

"I want you to cum first, yeah?" He dives back in to taste her, adding a third finger to her cunt as she pulls harder on his hair. "Cum for me, lovely girl, then I'll fuck you. I promise I'll fuck you so fucking good-"

"Har-" Her words get cut off by a sob leaving her lips. "I'm close." She whispers with shaky lips.

"Let go, 's alright, I've got ya..." His fingers curl harder, deeper, and his tongue flicks over her clit exactly two times before the flame in her stomach ignites. A scream of silence echoes through her body as she goes limp, slumping to the wall - her only stability are his curly brown locks. "Good fucking girl, that feel good? Was so hot, sugar plum."

"So good." She whispers, feeling dizzy as her cunt continues to pulse around his fingers. And when she thinks he's pulling them out, he really just begins to stand - pumping his fingers again. "Harry." She warns.

" 'm not done with you." His fingers stay inside her while he stands to her level, pressing his body to hers and curling into her pussy even more. "Cum again."

"I can't-"

"You will." He kisses her hard, tongue immediately finding hers and sloppily fighting for his dominance. Though it's not much of a fight, because she has already given in to everything he does... everything he is.

"Harry, Harry..." She moans into his mouth, gripping at his shoulders as his fingers move faster, more strategic, than before.

"Squeezin' my fingers so good, Clara, can't wait to feel you around me..." He grinds against her. "Fuck, c'mon, give me another one."

Her forehead falls to his and the most pathetic of whimpers tumbles from her lips. A beautiful and quiet chant of his name over and over as her body quivers and tries desperately to hold onto him.

"Lovely, lovely girl." He pulls his fingers out of her, bringing them up to her lips and watching as her eyes admire her own release shining on his skin. He places his fingertips on her bottom lip, and she slowly takes the fingers into her mouth. "Perfect fucking lips." He whispers, pulling his fingers out and pushing against her body even more. "Make me so fucking hard-"

"Please." She begs, because though two orgasms just destroyed every bit of her strength, she still longs for him. She longs for him inside of her, she longs for more of him worshiping her body's every move. And she longs to make him feel just as good.

So she kisses him while her fingers work their way under the jacket of his suit. She pushes it off his shoulders and he pulls them away from the wall, walking backwards until his legs hit the front of the obnoxiously large sofa. Clara works quickly to undo the buckle of his belt while Harry rips each button on his shirt from their proper place. She pushes him to sit, and a wide-eyed shade of green stares up at her.

Clara goes to pull the strap of her dress off her shoulder, but Harry shakes his head.

"Leave it on while you suck my cock, sugar plum." He grabs the material at her hips and pulls her forward. "Then let me take it off." He growls, loving the way her big, brown eyes study his own face - and a pink rises to her cheeks.

Her knees hit the ground as soon as his cock springs free to lay flat against his stomach. He breathes a sigh of relief, but sucks his breath back in when her mouth places soft kisses on his tip.

"Clar..."

"Shh, you can handle it." By it, she means the suspense, the edging, of her taking her sweet time to finally place her tongue on the length of his cock. He moans, head going back against the couch cushions as he fists her soft hair into the palm of his hand.

"Oh, holy fuck, Clara." It's pathetic, the way his body reacts, but he expects nothing less from the way he has been wanting her for the past week and two days. "Good girl, take me deeper." And she does, sucking him further and further until he reaches the back of her throat. She swallows. "Fuck!" He grips her hair tighter, pushing her face down until her nose is pressed to his stomach. "Such a tight little throat, and those lips, holy shit..." She gags a bit, pulling back and looking up at him - the way his eyes have completely washed over with lust.

Lust.

That isn't something Clara has felt in a while. Not until... now.

"Harry." She breathes against his tip. "Baby." And that catches his attention. His chest quickly rises and falls as he stares down at her.

"Yeah? Yes? What?" He's in a daze, and it makes Clara giggle as she crawls her way up his body, her dress cascading over his naked and glimmering skin.

"Can you fuck me now?" She straddles his hips, and both of them moan when her bare cunt brushes over his cock.

"Ask me again." He whispers, now in a softer mood than before - but no less desperate to be inside of her. "Use my name." He traces her shoulders until his fingers hook beneath the straps of her dress.

"Harry." She whispers, a bit seductive for Clara, but hot nonetheless.

"Mhm?" He stares at her chest, admiring the way he can physically see her heart beating.

"Fuck me, Harry." She sinks her body lower, grinding against his cock. A moan leaves his throat, but he stares forward to watch her tits come into view as the dress falls to her stomach.

"Fuck me." He whispers the same words back, taking in her body. Clara is shy about it, and pretending, for right now, that it's not bothering her. But Harry... all Harry wants to do is devour every fucking inch of her beauty. "Clara, stand up." He squeezes her thigh.

"W-What? Why?" She raises an eyebrow.

"So I can take this fucking dress off your body and fuck you in front of the fire." The hair raises on the back of her neck, and the hunger in his eyes seems to force Clara to stand. She stands right between his knees and he grabs her hips to spin her around. "You're so-" A kiss on the middle of her back. "-fucking beautiful-" A kiss as he pulls on the zipper. "-lovely girl." One last kiss as the dress pools at her feet.

Harry stands and keeps his hands on her waist, pressing the front of his body to her back. His hands crawl over her stomach and up to squeeze gently at her tits. She inhales sharply, and closes her eyes.

"Harry-"

"Admirin' you first." He interrupts her, trailing kisses on the back of her neck as his fingertips roam her body. His thumbs begin to circle her nipples, and she desperately moans, pushing further back to feel his cock against her. "Go lay down, sugar plum." He whispers, leaving one last kiss below her ear. Clara nods, walking to the area already covered in blankets and pillows.

Harry walks to the wall, turning on the gas fireplace with the flick of one switch - and then he watches the way Clara's eyes light up in the glow of the fire. It's dark in the sense that no lamps have been turned on in this Nutcracker suite - but that doesn't mean there isn't any source of light.

The fireplace. The Christmas lights outside of the window. Her.

"C'mon, dimples." Clara smiles, gesturing for him to move. He seems stunned, locked into place, drinking her in.

"Sorry." He mumbles, not sure what has gotten into him.

Except he knows - he really fucking knows. Every year, he comes to this place out of tradition. A fun getaway and a chance to pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

But Clara... he never expected Clara. He never expected to be so entranced and perpetually lost in another person's charisma. Beauty. Essence.

He's terrified of what it all means, and being terrified isn't something he's used to - but he'll be terrified for Clara.

A week and two days.

He'll be terrified if it's for his sugar plum.

"Everything okay?" Clara asks, suddenly self conscious of their naked bodies at such a great distance.

"Good." Harry nods quickly, chewing on his lip. " 'm good." He's thinking about her. "So good, sorry-" He rushes to her, meeting her on the ground and straddling her hips immediately. He kisses her hard, feeling some sort of rush, need, to be the best he can be for her.

"Hurry." She breathes against his lips. Her body still aches for him, and it's worsening with every move they make. " 'm clean and on birth contro-"

" 'm clean, too." He nods quickly, because he forgets, just for a moment, that anyone else ever existed before her. "You sure?" He asks, holding her face so delicately in his hands.

"Yes, please." She's almost tired of begging, so while he kisses her again, she reaches down for his cock - lining him up at her entrance. All he needs to do is to thrust forward, and because of all the desire in his heart and his body, he does.

"Clara." Her name escapes his lips in an instant, a moan, a sound he never thought he could make. "So good, so fucking tight-" Clara's nails dig into his biceps as he sinks in deeper.

"You're s-" A matching moan from Clara. "-so big."

"Stop, I'll cum." He growls, knowing it's useless anyway. He has been close since he pushed her against the wall in the elevator.

"Harder." She eggs him on regardless, tossing her head back to the blanket beneath her and trying to calm the knot in her stomach.

"Yeah? Like this, sugar plum?" He kisses her jaw, thrusting harder and faster and deeper until constant whimpering pours from her lips.

"Harry, Harry-" She gasps, but he doesn't let up.

"Good?" He checks in, receiving a nod as she looks at him with bewildered eyes. "You feel like magic, Clara, fuck." His forehead rests on hers. "So tight, so perfect, fucking feel me, yeah? Feel me so deep, stretching you, all in your tummy-"

"So deep..." She whines. "Kiss me. Please." So he does - he kisses her hard as his thrusts get sloppy and out of his own control.

"Look at me." He breathes against her lips - he wants her to hear his words and feel them, too. "Please, look at me Clara."

"I see you." Her whisper chills his skin, juxtaposed to the way he burns from the flames of the fire in front of them.

"I see you, too." He grins, thrusting until he bottoms out and they both moan in unison. "I know you're close, lovely girl."

"So close-" She cries. "Need t' cum."

"Wait for me, wait just... just a little more-" She pulses around him and it sends his body into overdrive. He keeps moving, keeps thrusting until he swears they've become one. He lowers his body until they're chests are together, gliding back and forth in the orange hue from the fire.

"Harry, I can't- I need..."

"I know, I know, sugar plum." He kisses her lips to keep her moaning controlled. "Soak me, love, cum on my cock." His words are all she needs - and her legs start to shake as ecstasy pours from her body. "Good girl, good fucking girl..." He moans, jaw wide open as a reaction to the way her cunt flutters around him. "Makin' me cum, too, Clara. Fuck!"

"Oh my god, oh my god-" She whimpers and cries as her body gives out to the blanket below her. Her limbs go limp as Harry finishes inside of her - spilling so deep that she's sure part of him will be there forever.

Their bodies stay stuck, maybe from the sweat of the heat or maybe just because it feels better that way - but they stay together for several minutes. Until Harry finds the strength to lift his hand, brushing stuck strands of hair away from her cheek.

"That was pretty fuckin' sweet, sugar plum." He whispers, making her laugh.

When she laughs, her stomach moves against his - and he loves that. He never knew feeling someone laugh could spark such warmth in his heart. But it does. And it's her who sparks it.

They lay there for a while - quiet, and then sudden bursts of giggles. The only other noises in the room are the crackling of the fire and the sounds of their flustered, beating hearts.

Harry cleans Clara's body with towels from the suite's master bathroom, and then he pulls blankets over both of them. They never switch on the TV. They never put on music from the stereo. They're not even sure their phones are with them - they probably left them in the coat room downstairs.

They lay and they talk - and that's it.

Harry learns about Nonno, about the typical Christmas and holiday traditions that the Biancos have perfected over the years.

Clara learns about Harry's life in London, spending his days and nights at Uni while weekends are reserved for time with his family at home.

Harry learns of Clara's love for the beach, her friends at school, and the way she holds herself so carefree - he also learns how she lost that spirit over the course of this past year.

Clara learns that Harry has money, but he doesn't act like the world revolves around it. He loves animals, helping people, painting, and crafting. His heart is softer than the cockiness that his exterior leads on.

Harry's resolution is to be more kind. Clara's resolution is to take more chances.

They learn and they listen and they build a trust that neither of them can comprehend. After all, a week and two days ago, they were strangers.

But now he's Harry, and she's Clara.

And that seems to be enough.

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

1 January

Naked, a bit cold, hungover, and tangled with each other is how Harry and Clara wake up for the New Year. Clara is immediately on edge, and Harry can tell. So he spends most of their morning scratching her back, making her comfortable, and telling her that she's stronger than she leads on.

It's Nonno's day. It's a new start. A New Year. A chance for... new beginnings.

"Stay with me today." Clara draws shapes over his bare chest - not the shapes of his tattoos, but new shapes. Her shapes. Ones that she creates with just the tip of her finger.

"Whatever you need, sugar plum." He kisses her forehead until her forehead becomes her cheeks. Until her cheeks become her nose. Her jaw. Her neck. Her lips.

Harry gives Clara the comfort and safety she needs to start her New Year - the comfort and safety she's been missing for the last ten months.

"I've never met someone like you, Harry." She feels the need to tell him more, to tell him the truth - to tell him everything that she's feeling. "It scares me and... and maybe that's why this feels crazy - why we feel crazy. Because it has only been-"

"-a week and two days." He finishes her thoughts for her. Normally, his interruption would annoy her... but not this time. "It scares me, too." His lips stay connected to her forehead as he speaks. "Fear isn't a bad thing, though."

"What do you mean?" Clara has always feared fear. It's in the definition, right? To be afraid, to be scared... unknown outcomes lying ahead.

"Fear drives us." His fingernails raise goosebumps all over her skin, and she snuggles in closer to him so she can memorize the feeling. This... this is what she'll remember when she feels alone. "Makes us take risks, take chances... and sometimes those are some of the best decisions we make."

"When... or, I guess, how... do we know that we can overcome our fears?" She asks, her fingers tracing up to his jaw. She lets her thumb run over his stubble, basking in the feeling of the outline of his face.

"I don't think we ever know." He whispers, looking down at her, wanting nothing more than to kiss all her fears away. "We just have to trust our gut."

Trust her gut - what Nonno always told her.

Harry and Clara don't say much else after their conversation about fear - because all of their feelings are felt unsaid. They know their time is running short, but they don't know what to do about it. It's fear, it scares them, and they're not ready to face that fear head on.

Not yet, at least.

Harry offers up the Nutcracker suite's shower to Clara, and she graciously accepts - with the condition that he joins her. And he happily obliges.

Because the Biancos are leaving the next day, Clara spends a majority of her day packing. She joins Nicholas and Harry for one last trip down the mountain on their skis - Gracie stays watching from the lodge. But the inevitable departure of Clara stays a taboo topic for her and Harry. While he sits on her bed, watching her pack her bag, they still stay silent together.

Nonna is the one who invites Harry to dinner - if, and only if, he agrees to help with the preparation. He does, of course, and Clara has never felt more sick in her life about a boy meeting her family.

A boy she met a week and two days ago.

But he fits right in - rolling the meatballs with Nonna, stirring (and tasting) the sauce with Clara's father. Gracie joins to help form the pasta, and both Styles siblings fit perfectly into the Bianco family of misfits.

They all miss Nonno, talking about him while they cook and how he would probably hate the speed at which they're moving. Nonno believed pasta took time... careful amounts of time and love and consideration.

But the Biancos are hungry.

Nonna grins the entire way through dinner, kicking Clara under the table every time Harry says something sweet or charming. Clara knows she will never hear the end of it, and it's only one of the reasons she is dreading tomorrow.

The main reason?

The main reason is so clear in her mind, shouting at her that she's stupid for falling so hard and so fast for a stranger at a ski lodge in Vail. She doesn't like falling, because of this. Because it's hard for Clara to digest her feelings on a normal day, let alone feelings that hit her like an avalanche in a week and two days.

The main reason she is dreading tomorrow is because she finally felt some sort of peace for the first time in ten months. She felt at peace with someone, had fun with someone, felt completely and utterly herself with someone.

The main reason she is dreading tomorrow is because she will never see Harry again.

And that fucking scares her.

After dinner, Harry takes Clara back to The Nutcracker suite for the second time. Instead of the floor, tonight, he takes her to bed. Because all he wants to do is treat her with perfection - with comfort and warmth and the safety she deserves. So he does.

He does all of that and more.

Their bodies mold into one complete entity, one soul, one feeling - whatever that feeling may be. Harry cherishes every noise that Clara makes, every way she moans his name and every touch she places on his skin. He needs her... more than just tonight. He needs her for longer and maybe forever. But if this is it... then he has to make it count.

"Lovely, lovely girl. I'm crazy about you. Crazy for you. Sugar plum, my sugar plum. Never forget this, please, for me. Never forget us."

They touch and kiss and whine and whimper until the sun is practically up, waiting for them. The Styles family never leaves until the third of January, but the Biancos have a flight scheduled for the second.

So after a week and three days, this is it.

❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆❆

2 January

"Don't go." They're empty, those words. Because Harry knows that she has to leave, and Clara knows it, too.

"Kiss me." She responds with what she wants in the moment, and he gives in to her immediately. Their lips fall and mold together, like perfection, like magic, like the taste of sweet, sweet sugar plums.

"Clara." Harry breathes, runnings his fingers through her hair and down the soft skin of her bare back.

"Harry." She stares at him, wishing she could hide away from the world in his dimples forever.

"Can we skip the goodbyes?" He asks, fully aware of why he needs to do this. He is still terrified, drowning in his fear, because how does he let a person like Clara leave? How does he go on without her? Maybe if there is no goodbye... maybe it'll never hurt the way he knows it will.

But he knows it will - it'll hurt more than his worst fears.

"We can skip the goodbyes." She whispers back, kissing softly at a spot on his shoulder. "We can leave us here, in Vail."

"But-"

"Here, Harry." She stops him. "We'll leave us here and maybe..."

"Maybe you'll come back to me next year?" He suggests, gripping his hands at her hips like he can't get enough of her - like he needs to make sure she's real, just for her to slip from his grasp in an hour.

"Maybe."

Probably not. The Biancos will never have the means to do this again - and they'll have to find a new normal, without Nonno, at home.

More kisses and touches are shared until they can't possibly kiss and touch anymore. Harry makes sure that Clara has collected all of her things - and that includes sneaking in the t-shirt that she wore of his last night before they fell asleep.

To avoid goodbyes, she kisses his cheek sweetly while the Biancos carry their luggage through the lobby of the lodge. While Mr. Bianco is checking out at the front desk, Harry is finding Clara's hand.

He squeezes it, brings it to his lips, and kisses her delicate skin once more - just like he did in the kitchen a few nights ago.

"I know you didn't like me the first day, sugar plum." He whispers. "But how about now?"

As much as she wants to cry, the sentiment makes her laugh. And Clara bites her lip while staring back at the green-eyed boy.

"I still don't like you." She whispers, watching the dimples form on either side of his face. It makes her sick to think that she'll never see those dimples again, but these are new beginnings. This is a new year.

Harry gave her the chance to feel whole again.

Clara doesn't cry until they're back in the rental car. She stares out at the mountains, her sad girl hours playlist in full effect through her headphones, and all she can do is think about the stranger with the dimples.

But he isn't a stranger anymore - he's Harry.

He's Harry who got her down that mountain, Harry who deserved a second chance, Harry who gave her something to believe in.

It feels like their days in Vail slipped by once they all step foot in the Denver airport again. Back to the beach, Clara tells herself. Back to friends. It might be the only convincing thought she'll have to make her step foot on that plane.

Because she didn't expect to meet Harry. She didn't expect to fly somewhere completely new to spend a holiday she has been dreading for almost ten months with a stranger who rocked her world.

A stranger, of one week and three days, who brought out her fears in the best way.

"Clara!"

Now she's hearing him, too.

"Clara, wait!"

Ok that... that has to be real. She wouldn't hear his voice twice... would she?

She turns around from her place in line to board their flight home - and there he stands. Hair messy, eyes wide, dimples deep.

Harry Styles stands across the airport from Clara Bianco, waiting for her to come to him.

"What... are you doing?!" She drops her bags, jogging over to him to save him from running and stumbling any further.

"This." He holds a ticket in between them.

"Wha-"

"Taking chances." He breathes. "That was your resolution."

"Harry, this is a ticket to-"

"To London, I know." He nods quickly. "You have two more weeks before school starts. A-And..." He swallows. "...and I don't want to say goodbye." Clara's eyes widen at the ticket. "Tell me you won't say goodbye either."

"Harry, I can't..."

"Why not?" He grabs onto her wrists, stepping closer to her until their foreheads meet. "Tell me why you can't."

"I-" Her voice gets stuck, because she knows he's right. She doesn't have a reason other than fear. Her reason to stay is fear.

But her reason to go is Harry.

Harry... and taking chances - two things much stronger than fear.

"What d' ya say, sugar plum?" He leans in to kiss her before she can answer. "Come to London? Say yes to me."

A stranger. A week and three days. Feeling freer than she has felt all year.

Clara and Harry are a beautiful thing - a beautiful bond that maybe feels fast and spontaneous, a little rash and rushed. But we've learned about beautiful things - beautiful things like pizzelles.

A beautiful thing that tastes so sweet. A beautiful thing that's worth the fight. A beautiful thing that's worth taking a chance.

"Yes."

About the Author: Hello! My name is Abby, and I've been writing Harry fics on this account for exactly a year this December! It started with some baseball in 'Sunshine', then moved to music in 'Coda', and then a divine afterlife in 'Lethe.' I've also written 'Harmony', a short sequel to 'Coda', and 'Pizza Run', a short Niall fic! I'll be posting my new story, 'Safe,' in January. I'll keep you up to date here or on my twitter at pawriter19. And as always, thank you for reading! :)