Christmas spirit hit Greengrass Woodhouse almost as hard as the snowstorm brewing beyond its walls. Daphne had returned home from Hogwarts to find her father had the main rooms of the house decorated for the holiday. She was immediately confused at how what a betrayal of his usual character this was, but as the days ticked over she caught herself growing less suspicious and more into the swing of things. After Astoria's recent scare it made sense that his mindset was now more family-orientated than previous years... which for once made Daphne out to be the neglectful one, as she'd spent the majority of her first few days home in isolation.

For someone who often spent time worrying about her future, it was ironic that actually preparing for it was something was something she'd been neglecting recently. Her mental state had been such a roller-coaster of late that even the small amount of actual revision she'd done had been little more than just scanning over the page. Getting back into it now felt good, because if anything, it felt like a welcome return to the norm. A different kind of theraputic than the one she got from being around Harry, but nonetheless, it did a lot for her. Every second she spend reading about spells or memorizing potions ingredients was another second working toward her eventual goal. She didn't realize how much she'd let herself slip below her self-expected high standards.

The ministry was a less generous with their holiday time than Hogwarts was, so for the first few days of being home her father was almost never around. Normally Daphne would be upset about that, but with the way things had been escalating between the two of them of late, she was glad it just gave them less opportunity to argue. Since he had stuck up for her to Dumbledore and backed Umbridge into a corner they'd been on good terms, but she knew all it would take was one argument before they were back at each other's throats.

When Christmas Eve finally arrived, Daphne had somehow found herself on her hands and knees in one of the manors many kitchens. She always tried her best to excel in every subject she set her mind to, and cooking was no exception. This one was less by personal determination, however, and more the fact her father couldn't cook to save his life. After he and her mother split there was a few years where he was responsible for making the families food before they purchased Winky. They had not been a pleasant few years.

Finding the dial she was looking for, Daphne flicked it into place and heard a hiss as gas began to fill the oven. Standing up, she then placed the turkey into the metal slot and adjusted the dials further, setting it to an overnight slow roast.

Greengrass Woodhouse was a very large house, which meant if the family wanted to spend time together, it had to be through deliberate intent. This took the form of a drawing room on the first floor, it had a open fireplace, vast sitting area, a small study in the corner and an attached kitchen off to the side. It came with everything, essentially making it into a small house inside the larger manor. The convenience of this area often lead to it being the host of social occasions, like parties, holidays, and in this case, family-time.

Astoria was spread across one of the sofas, tucked under a blanket and balancing a book against her elevated leg. Her condition had only just been beginning to improve, but she was now able to move from room to room unassisted with relative ease. That made her likeness of returning to Hogwarts this year look better than they originally thought. Their father's awkwardness when it came to her illness made it easy for Daphne to take the reigns and steer things in her own direction, something which was a rarity. Her priority so far had been making sure her sisters enjoyment of the holidays would be uninterrupted by her illness, which she was doing quite well at as of yet.

Their father's whereabouts right now were unknown, but if Daphne had to take a guess she'd say he was either training or in his private study.

From her position over on the sofa, Astoria lifted her head.

"Why aren't you letting Winky do that?"

Daphne rubbed her hands against the fireplace as she passed it. She wore over-sized sparkly pajama pants, a green sleeveless and a white apron, none of which did anything to keep her warm in the stone house. It was also beginning to occur to her that she didn't actually own any clothes that were not some rendition of the Slytherin emblem colors.

House-Pride and all that.

"Because it's a special meal," she emphasized. "And you're implying that a house elves cooking could hold a candle to mine?"

Astoria smiled, "I'm sure it will be delicious."

Daphne untied her apron and threw it over the settee.

"Thank you, sweet pea. You sure you're gonna be okay eating it?"

The girl nodded weakly.

"I'm fine with solids now. Just please nothing spicy."

Sitting down beside Astoria's feet, Daphne smirked fondly.

"I won't include curry in yours, then."

The two shared another laugh, Astoria placed her book down.

"Do you know if grandfather will be joining us tomorrow?"

Daphne paused. Astoria's tone came across as so optimistic, she felt bad outright crushing it. So instead she pulled a bemused expression, and turned her attention to the fireplace.

"I'm not sure. I haven't heard. But you know how strict his nurses get around Christmas, so I wouldn't get your hopes too high."

Astoria gave a low sigh, seeing straight through her sisters polite facade.

"Christmas with just us, then."

"Tracey's coming over tomorrow?" she offered, smiling.

Astoria smiled weakly to herself, but otherwise turned her attention back to her book. Despite her smile, the disappointment in her tone was plain.

Daphne wanted to make Astoria's Christmas fun, but that was one thing even she couldn't get done. Her father had a very rocky relationship with the rest of his family. Not that that was saying much, mind. It would probably be easier to list the people that Benedict Greengrass did get along with. This one was perhaps a little more justified, however.

Her grandfather was only seventy four when her dad had driven him out of the house and into full time care at St Mungos, an insultingly young age for somebody who was at the time, the head of a family belonging to the Sacred-Twenty Eight. This was purely down to her father wanting to take the name of the estate and the power attached into his own hands. He had the nerve to accuse Daphne of using Tracey for her own benefit while he had drove his own father out of his ancestral home for political reputation.

Frederick Greengrass had left the family estate before she was born and she'd only met him a handful of times, but every Christmas she'd push for her father and he to make up. If anything, because at this point they didn't have much family left. The first wizarding war has seen her aunt and uncle guilty of being Death Eaters and sentenced to the Dementor's kiss, which was a large reason behind why her father ended up joining the cause (and was also the excuse he used for having illegitimate children with two different women, but they don't talk about that.)

The Woodhouse was built to accommodate dozens of family members, and it was only around Christmas that it occurred to Daphne quite how small their circle had become.

"You're staring right at me."

"Waa-!"

Daphne coughed loudly and stood up.

"I'm going to go have a bath. Will you be okay on your own for a while?"

"I'll be fine."

Though she couldn't see her face anymore, Daphne was sure she'd just received an eye rolling. Deciding her sister was now no longer in the best mood and that she'd overstayed her welcome, she grabbed her apron from the couch and began to roll it up on the way out of the room. She wanted to keep Astoria's Christmas happy and unaffected by her illness. She hadn't, however, taken into consideration that those would be two separate things.

As she exited the drawing room, she suddenly found herself staring into a man's chest.

"Is she still in there?"

Her father had appeared from nowhere and spoke in a hush whisper. She instantly sensed something was out of place.

"Of course. Why?" she asked.

Benedict licked his lips.

"I have some guests coming over later. I was rather hoping we'd be able to have the room to ourselves."

The motherly instinct Daphne got while caring for Astoria suddenly went dead in the water, and in its place a temper began to burn violently. She struggled to keep her voice low, but only did so out of respect for Astoria.

"Your daughter is ill-"

"Daphne," Benedict interrupted and held a hand to his chest, "I understand, I do. But these are some special people I have coming. I need to make a good impression. This could be very good for all of us."

Unfortunately, it took Daphne less time to understand his words than she'd like to admit.

"-and you're inviting Death Eaters into our house on Christmas Eve!?"

"I'm a Death Eater, in case you need reminding," he said sternly. Then, quieter, he followed up with, "and you have Tracey staying with us tomorrow, I don't see how that's different."

Her response was instantaneous. This was not a subject she would argue over.

"She is my family."

"Daphne, dear…"

The aggression in his tone was gone again, and it seemed more like he was trying to skirt around the edges of having an argument than challenge her directly. His sincerity almost sounded genuine.

"I know how it looks, but I'm asking you, work with me on this. Our house is going to be host to some very influential people. This could be my chance to finally overtake the Malfoy's. I could wipe that pompous smug look from Lucius's face. And I did just assist you in school, if I need remind you?"

Daphne was about to respond but bit her lip. She wanted to curse the life out of her father right now, both magically and verbally. But she couldn't, because… She gritted her teeth. Because he was right. She owed him.

Her father wanted to be the best, which she could respect. She often even admired it. He wanted greatness and there was nothing that he wouldn't do to achieve it. It was a forward-thinking and productive mindset, but what she didn't respect was quite how easily were the levels he was willing to drop to in order to achieve it. If there was a Hogwarts House whose mascot was a weasel, she had no doubt her father would be it's prized pupil.

"I'll move her upstairs later," Daphne answered, deflated. "But you're keeping your guests away from her."

She moved to push past him but she suddenly felt a grip tighten around her arm. If it had been any other man to grab her like that she'd have had no hesitation whipping out her wand and leaving them dangling from the ceiling. But at her father's touch she instinctively froze up. Despite holding her against her will, his tone was still gentle.

"I was… rather hoping you'd like to join us, actually? You do have yet to introduce yourself to the ranks. There's a girl coming who's similar to your age, as well. You two could be friends. It might be good for you to get a head start."

Just as her temper was reaching its peak, she suddenly found it grinding to a halt. Oh... curse her father!

She couldn't hate him, not when he did genuinely care about her and want her to succeed... but dammit she wished she could. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again suddenly. What could she even say to that?

She gently pulled her arm free.

"N-no. I have to keep an eye on Astoria," she stuttered. "But thank you, father. Next time."

The strange look her father was giving her didn't last long as she turned and did a slight jog up the staircase out of his sight. That jog didn't stop when she reached the next floor, however, as she suddenly found herself rushing up step after step to reach her bedroom tower. When she finally arrived at her door, her heart was pounding. And it wasn't from the running.

She threw open her bedroom door, summoned the curtains shut and collapsed down into a heap on her bed. Her plan had been to take a bath, but in her absent mind her feet brought here instead, and she wasn't about to argue with herself.

What just happened to her? She physically shook her head clean. Why hadn't she taken her father's offer to join them? To take care of Astoria she told herself, but that wasn't true. If anything Astoria would be annoyed over being used as a scapegoat.

The truth was she had panicked.

She'd been living in a fantasy world for the past few months, and her father had just offered her a sudden and harsh reality check. Suddenly the world she'd been playfully avoiding the past few months was right on her doorstep, and in her anxiety she'd abandoned ship.

The happy and cutesy reality she'd been living in with Harry was suddenly dragged away under her feet and replaced with promise of deceit, destruction and race cleansing. But it shouldn't have shook her as much as it did! She had met many unofficial Death Eaters in the past, the fact her situation had now changed wouldn't mean anything to those people. She needed to toughen up, and get her mindset back where it belonged.

She'd been planning to write to Harry over the holidays and apparently that scare had been the push she needed. She pulled herself off her bed in a heave and moved to her study desk. She liked to keep her bedroom window open during the day, so when she arrived back at night the temperature would be low enough for her to drift gently off to sleep. But right now the cold was doing nothing to calm her nerves. She lifted a green cardigan around her top half and settled down, bringing out a bit of parchment.

How was she going to word this? She didn't have Harry's address, so it would have to be forwarded to Tracey and then to the Ministry and filed to his location from there. With the amount of attention on him now she didn't trust it not to be intercepted on the way, so she'd have to make it anonymous and hope for the best. She would have to make the effort not to use any names, pronouns or locations, just on the off chance that it got traced back to her.

She was definitely taking a risk by contacting him, she was well aware. But it was Christmas, he was her first boyfriend… and honestly? As much as she hated to admit it, she could do with feeling close to him right now.

Hello, Harry

She crossed her wording out. What had she literally just told herself?

Hello sir

It sounded ridiculous, but he was sure he would understand.

How have your holidays been treating you? You mention that you're spending them with your family, is that going well? Has our orange friend been a problem? It's been a heavy thought on my mind, and I'm sure it has occurred to you as well the implications of that recent development. When we return to school we shall have to reevaluate our situation carefully.

That was a little formal of her. That was what she was going for though, wasn't it? To avoid suspicion?

Although if anyone got their hands on this letter then there wouldn't be any doubt that the two were seeing each other anyway. No, there wasn't really any point being professional about it. This was her chance. She needed to grip this rare feeling of vulnerability she was experiencing and do something with it.

With that being said, I realize we haven't been apart for that long, but I find myself already beginning to miss you. It feels insane for me to admit, I grew up my whole life with the belief that social things would just be deviations from my professional goals, yet since we have been seeing each other that mindset never felt further away.

Maybe I'm just getting sappy because of the season, but I want you to spend this special time of year with you. Probably for the first time in my life I actually want a hug right now and have nobody here to give me one. I used to rely so heavily on the persona I advertised to my classmates that I actually started to believe it myself. I realize I may be coming on too strong, but I can't emphasis how different of a person you make me feel. You have opened my eyes to a larger world, and to that I thank you.

I hope you have a worth-wild Christmas, and I look forward to seeing you when we return. Please don't have gotten me anything, as I haven't gotten you anything. Only respond to this letter if you have a way to send it anonymously. If you cannot, don't worry yourself, we will see each other soon anyway.

Thinking of you,

Ice Queen

She sat back and proofread her work.

It made her cringe putting those thoughts onto the paper. It was entirely unlike how she would normally talk anyone, even to herself. The Ice Queen was a cunning facade she put up, but it was true enough that Daphne never enjoyed putting her emotions into words. But it was important that he knew how she felt about him, especially at this time of year. His absence suddenly made him feel closer to her than ever.

Then, a side note made her smile. It was unrelated, but it made her happy all the same. The Potters and Weasleys were the Twenty-Ninth and Thirtieth members of the Sacred families she'd been considering earlier. That is, they were, before their exiling for blood treachery.

The thought occurred to her that maybe if she and Harry had crossed paths in a world where the war never happened, they'd have been a perfect pair. Imagine a world were it was just the house boundaries keeping them apart. Think of how jaw-dropping it would be for the entire school when they came out in public. She could strut down the corridor, proudly wrapped in Harry's arm, and wouldn't think twice about hexing anybody that would send a glare their way. She could introduce him to her delighted father instead of keeping him her dirty secret. He could be with her right now, keeping her warm. They could arrange dates to see each other during the summer holidays. They would become the ultimate power couple that everyone looked up to.

The thought of all that drama, scandal and excitement sent a rush of adrenaline through her system. It excited her and terrified her.

It was a fantasy reality a million miles off from the truth, but Daphne got sneaking feeling she'd be spending a lot of time there tonight.