The streets of Diagon Alley were mostly quiet with very few shops open, keepers going about to each other with gifts, goodies, and cheerful smiles, others returning home to their families wrapped up in scarves protecting from the cold wind. The snow crunched underneath their feet as dozens of owls flew overhead carrying wax sealed letters and brightly wrapped boxes.
Her eyes followed the large birds' movements behind the glass with a soft, trepidatious smile. Arms crossed to grip her bare elbows as she soaked in the magical warmth inside the wand shop. Unlike the past familiar Ollivander's, they manipulated their wands to have a more custom approach to match their wielders. The wand still chose the wizard – but more and more wizards and witches, young and old, were choosing their shop for the new and exciting experience.
A large fluffy cat jumped into the window sill, batting at the snowflakes that fell against the opposite side of the glass. A soft giggle came from her as she let the giddy, nervous feeling wash away from her. A crash of wand boxes came from the backroom, followed by a string of soft profanities, bringing a heavier chuckle from her lips.
Leave it to her to keep them here on Christmas day, preferring the company of each other over others in an environment they both love. Glancing up at the hanging decorations of garland and Poinsettias, small different colored candles lighting up surrounding tinsel and Amaryllis, she felt something missing.
Another glimpse toward the street gave her the romantic image of an older couple kissing, their gloved hands clasped tightly. Without a second thought, her wand was pointed at the ceiling. A ridiculous number of mistletoe magically grew around every archway, covering the ceiling in spurts every few inches.
Her fingers slipped into her pocket to fiddle with the edge of a small red envelope, something she had been writing and rewriting for many weeks now. She wasn't sure if it was perfect, in fact she was sure of the opposite. But it was the reaction to the letter that mattered. The right reaction could mean the best Christmas she has ever had, but the wrong reaction.
Well, lets just say there wasn't going to be a wrong reaction. She knew how to hide a body.
Warm arms wrapped around her from behind, a chin coming to rest on her shoulder as soft tresses of hair tickled her cheek.
"Merry Christmas."
Her grin turned Cheshire, "You've said that six times today."
"Merry Catmas."
The meow of appreciation for that one did not come from her.
She allowed herself to be led over to the couch that sat in front of the large, decorated tree. A large fluffy cat, a brighter color than the one in the window, was going cross eyed staring at the warped cat that stared back from a low hanging, red metallic ball. A soft voice beside her broke her train of thought on the cat.
"I have something for you. I wanted it to be special, something you love, and I thought written words might bring a bigger smile to your face."
A letter was suddenly in front of her face, and if not for the velvety green she would have thought her own letter had levitated from her pocket.
"Actually, I wrote you something too." Nervousness took her back over as she pulled out the scarlet red envelope and exchanged it for the green one. With shy smiles, they peeled open the envelopes at the same time and reluctantly tore their eyes from each other to look down at the pages below them.
Moments of silence filled only by sweet smiles and soft, shaky sighs turned into sudden blown pupils and lively laughter as they looked back up at each other.
"You!?"
"But you!?"
"But I!"
"I did!"
"I do!"
"I do!"
Unknown at just who was saying what, she thought it safe to say that the reaction was a positive one as the two letters fluttered to the floor seconds after she had thrown herself at her lover in an exceptional bit of mirth.
Eight large paws softly padded across the floor to the letter, four eyes glancing at the others before looking down at the first fallen parchment with a chin-tucked head tilt.
I am not a poet, I am only a woman.
A woman desperately in love with another
A game-plan I can only hope she loves
Though not near as much as I love her
I find myself wondering if
She knows just how amazing
Her brilliant
Eyes, wide
Gorgeous, I can't imagine
Life could be so wonderful
Without you
Gorgeous, I can't imagine
You have made life whole
But whole is not what I want to be
I don't want
To be anything
Than beside you
Where, is what I want
Where, is beside you
Wrapped around my whole heart
Wrapped around yours
Right now
…
Just now
I have lied
…
What, is exactly what I want to be
What, is what I find myself desperate for
Desperate for you
Desperate me
My chest hurts in a way that is
Nothing but pleasure
Pleasure I want
What I want
What I want to be is not whole
What I want to be is
Open and empty
Not empty of your love
Or mine
But empty
So, you can fill me
With experiences we share together
Always and forever
What I want to be
Is your wife
Marry me
I find it perfect, I suppose
That we would both assume
The perfect time to propose
Would be Christmas
Both of us
Perfect
Inquiring of a story to show our love
But the story of our love is exactly what we lived
Both of us
Perfect
Loving each other so much
Fit so perfectly together
That we would BOTH inquire of our friends
To write our proposals to each other
In a fanfiction
On Christmas
Both of us
Perfect