The sun shone through the cracks in my drapes, letting the tiniest sliver of light into my bedroom. I rubbed my eyes lazily, but before I could process anything, I heard heavy footsteps bounding up the stairs, footsteps that were running toward my room at breakneck speed. I shot up from my bed expecting something horrible to have happened, but it never did. Instead, Tonks flung my door open and grinned widely at me.
"What is it? What's happened?" I blurted out. She kept smiling.
"Nothing at all – happy Christmas, Cass!"
We jogged down the stairs, Christmas presents in hand, to see that Sirius had decked the halls of Grimmauld Place even more than we had in the days leading up to Christmas. Gold and silver streamers hung from the chandelier and ceiling, a tall Christmas tree stood in the drawing room (which was obtained by Mundungus and decorated with live fairies, much to Mrs. Weasley's disdain), and the house-elf heads were all wearing Father Christmas hats and beards of white and crimson.
Down the end of the hall, I could hear Sirius singing Muggle Christmas carols as he strode toward Tonks and me. No longer was he the sullen host from the last few weeks; he was back to the high-spirited, jovial man I'd met when I first moved into the house in July.
"Happy Christmas, Cassie," he exclaimed, reaching out to give me a hug.
"You too, Sirius," I said, flashing him a quick smile. "Where's everyone else?"
He pointed with both hands to the kitchen and drawing room; in the kitchen, Harry, Ron, Hermione (who'd arrived five days ago), Ginny, Fred, and George all were showing off their presents to one another and chatting happily. In the drawing room, Remus sat with a cup of tea, admiring the decorations. I dashed into the drawing room quickly and pulled a box from the inside of my dressing gown, handing it to Remus.
"Happy Christmas, Remus," I said. "A little something for you."
"Why, thank you, Cassie," he replied, a tinge of pink blooming over his cheeks. "Your presents are in the kitchen. Just a few small things from Sirius and I."
I nodded happily, handed Sirius another small package, then rejoined Tonks out in the hallway. I wandered down to the kitchen to find the table strewn with wrapping paper and ribbons from all the gifts. I assessed the mess, then smiled at everyone present.
"Happy Christmas, all!" I exclaimed. "I think I've got presents for all of you."
Everyone ooh'd and ahh'd as I handed parcels off to everyone; for Harry, another book on Defensive spells, similar to the ones Sirius and Remus got for him; for Ron, a large box of Chocolate Frogs with "collector's edition" cards, which were more unique and unknown witches and wizards outside the usual collection; for Hermione, a leather-bound journal and magical history book by Francis's ancestor Claudio Gray ('I've read about him!' was naturally her response), a simple blue and white tarot deck for Ginny, who got to work on flipping through the cards and marveling over the moving images; and a gift box from Zonko's for Fred and George.
"I didn't know what to get you, so I figured I'd get you the same thing," I said quickly, hiding my cheeks behind my hair. In truth, I almost didn't buy a Christmas present for Fred. At the time I purchased it, I was still angry with him, but now I just felt silly and guilty for not getting him something more personal.
"This is brilliant, Malfoy!" George exclaimed, turning the box over in his hand. "Thank you so much!"
"Cass, I hate to tell you this, but I, er, didn't get you anything," Fred said quickly. "I'm really, really sorry."
As soon as Fred said that, the whole room went quiet, turning to look at him in shock.
"Blimey, you didn't get your own girlfriend a Christmas present?" Ron asked incredulously.
"I expected better from you, Fred!" Ginny chided, her tone half-joking and half-serious. I shook my head and forced a smile.
"It's okay, Freddie," I said. "Trust me, I don't need anything else. Thanks for telling me, though."
He nodded, then went back to trying to steal Chocolate Frogs from Ron's box. In truth I wasn't upset; Fred and I hadn't spoken in months and that Umbridge woman probably didn't let students go into Hogsmeade too much anymore. I couldn't have been that surprised to know that he didn't get me anything.
As I wandered up the stairs, unwrapping my gift from Sirius and Remus as I walked, Tonks stood in my way and stopped me, a devilish grin playing across her face.
"I haven't given you my present yet," she said playfully.
"That you haven't!" I exclaimed. "Well, give it here. I'll have to go grab yours."
She cocked her head and studied me, pretending to think hard about something.
"See, you'll have to come outside. It's out there, you see," she explained. "That's all I'm telling you."
I cocked my head back at her, trying to puzzle out what my gift could be. If I had learned anything in my year of knowing my cousin, it was to let her explain everything and not as too many questions.
When we got outside, I looked up and down the street wildly, looking for this mysterious present.
"Well, where is it?" I asked, my teeth chattering as I shivered on the pavement in only my pajamas and my dressing gown. Tonks cocked her head at me again, taking my hand lightly in hers.
"I forgot to mention!" she exclaimed. "It's a gift from the whole Order, not just me."
"A gift from the Order?! Tonks, what- "
I didn't get a chance to answer because she turned on her heel and vanished us both into the cold, Christmas morning air.
THUD!
Suddenly, I materialized in a room with an enormous Christmas tree, plates upon plates of biscuits, and the sweet smell of coffee, freshly baked scones, and other Christmas pastries overcame my senses.
"Tonks, where the hell- "
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS, SWEETHEART!"
I turned around to see Andromeda and Ted beaming at me from the kitchen, their arms full of presents. I don't know what came over me – maybe the emotions and exhaustion from the last week, but I ran at my aunt and uncle at full speed, hurling myself into their arms, and crying tears of joy.
"Oh, darling, we're so happy to see you!" Andy exclaimed, wiping tears from my cheeks. I hadn't seen my aunt in months, but she still looked the same as always with her soft, brown hair and kind eyes. She wore monogrammed pajamas with the initials A.T. on the pocket, which were probably a gift from my uncle.
"I see Dora really surprised you with this one, you're still in your dressing gown and everything," Ted joked, giving me a tight hug and a few presents to open. "I think we're still got some of your old clothes downstairs. That is unless Andy took them all to the charity shop- "
"Ted, we can worry about all that later!" my aunt exclaimed, swatting him playfully with her hand. "Why don't we all open gifts and then have a bit of breakfast? Oh, Cassie, we're so happy you could be here for Christmas. When Alastor – Moody, you know – and the Order said you could visit- "
"This is the best Christmas ever," I said quickly, and meaning it with my whole heart. "Without question, the best I've ever had."
The morning was filled with gifts (several potions' books from Andy and some tapes from Ted; The Ramones' self-titled, Queen's "News of the World," and Talking Heads' "Remain in Light, and a maroon jumper from Tonks), enough scones to feed the neighborhood, and Muggle Christmas music on the record player. It was, by far, the happiest Christmas I'd ever celebrated.
Growing up at Malfoy Manor, Christmas was still as cold and austere as most other days. Our Christmas tree was always decorating sparingly with silver ornaments and Black and Malfoy heirlooms. When Draco and I were little, my mother always signed our presents "From Father Christmas," then "From Mummy and Daddy," and then, in my case, just "For Cassiopeia. Love, Mother." Even on such a joyful holiday, my parents managed to keep things as austere as possible, sucking the life and joy out of it with every passing year.
After sticking around for a bit longer after breakfast, Tonks stood up abruptly.
"As much as I'd like you to stick around, I told Molly I'd have you back by lunchtime," she said. "Said they're doing a Christmas visit to Arthur. Thought you'd want to come."
I blinked, shocked that Mrs. Weasley of all people wanted me there in the first place. Then again, it had to be some sort of Christmas miracle. I nodded, said a far too long goodbye to Andy and Ted (and tried to not cry again), the Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place alone, clutching all my presents as I spun through the air.
Once I arrived and headed back into the house, I found everyone still in the same good spirits as when I left them. Sirius and Remus were coming down the stairs with smiles on their faces, both looking cozy in the Christmas jumpers I'd gotten for them.
"I was never a jumper man myself, but this one's rather soft," Sirius mused, rubbing the black fabric between his fingers. "I must admit, it looks far better on you than it does on me, Remus."
"That's impossible and you know it, Sirius," Remus said with a small smile. Remus always wandered about in threadbare robes and jumpers, and I wanted him to have something new for the coming year. As for Sirius, he needed to wear something that wasn't an oversized band t-shirt or flowy blouse from his Hogwarts days. Before I could thank them for the gifts they got me, I heard music faintly playing in the drawing room, along with the soft sound of a woman weeping.
"Molly," Sirius said. "Apparently Percy returned his Christmas gift. And hasn't gone to see Arthur in the hospital."
"I'm sure they'll sort it out, Sirius," Remus said gently. "Let's just let her be for a bit before lunch."
They turned down from the stairs and wandered toward the kitchen, but I lingered behind. I couldn't walk away while Mrs. Weasley was crying and clearly upset; hearing her weep made me wonder if my own mother was standing in our drawing room, next to the tree and weeping for me. Without even thinking, I pushed the door to the drawing room open slightly and saw her holding a handkerchief to her nose, her other hand resting in her lap. Behind her, the record player spun "Slipping Through My Fingers" by ABBA softly through the static.
"I love this song," I said quietly, walking toward her slowly.
She picked up her head and gasped a little when she realized I was standing there, wiping her eyes hastily. She forced a smile when she realized how worried I probably looked.
"Me too," she said, her voice shaky. "Brings back quite a few memories."
"Good ones, I hope?"
"Some good, some bad," she said. "You'll have to excuse me dear; I just wasn't expecting Percy to…well, I'm sure you know by now what's happened with him. This is our first Christmas without him, and it makes me wonder if we'll ever make things right! And he hasn't even gone to see his father in the hospital- "
"Mrs. Weasley, it's Christmas," I said gently. "I'm sure he'll come around. Your husband told me that Percy has always been a big believer in authority, and that it's…well, it's not to his benefit right now. But he seems like a defender of what he thinks is right, a really strong defender. I'm sure he'll come around at some point."
She smiled again gratefully, trying to believe what I was saying. Hell, I was even trying to believe what I was saying. I didn't know Percy, but I really didn't want Mrs. Weasley to be even more upset than she probably already was. Poor woman already had enough on her plate. Suddenly, she patted the cushion next to her invitingly.
"Sit down, dear," she said. "I think it's time you and I had a talk, don't you?"
Stunned, I nodded slowly and sat down gingerly next to her. As soon as my bottom hit the cushions, she took my hand in hers and squeezed it.
"I really can't thank you enough for what you did," she said, her eyes welling up again. "I know Harry was the one to reach Dumbledore and all, but if someone hadn't been there trying to stop Arthur's bleeding, well… I don't think we'd be having such a celebratory day. I'm so, so grateful to you for that, dear."
"It's really nothing, Mrs. Weasley," I said. "I couldn't just let him bleed while I waited for help. I'm sure anyone in the Order would've done it for him."
"Yes, well, you're not just any old member of the Order, are you?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me as her brown eyes continued to well up. "You know, you might look quite a bit like him, but you're not like your father at all."
"I'm not?" I asked.
"No, dear," she said. "You rather remind me of her. Of Genny."
Now my eyes began to tear up. How did I remind Mrs. Weasley of her best friend, the young woman my father tortured and murdered in her flat when she wasn't much older than I was? Of all the surprises from today, this took the cake as the biggest.
"How- "
"The colored hair, the running around London, the music, the almost reckless disregard for the rules?" she said playfully. "All those things were Genny to a 'T.' She was the bravest, and the boldest, of us all. When I look at you, and how you are with my own children…it reminds of how she was. How she would have been."
I don't know what came over me, but I really started to cry again. She smiled and handed me her handkerchief, but then wrapped her arms around me in a warm, motherly hug.
"Genny was also the one who loved people the deepest, who would live and die for them, who was so devoted to them no matter what," she continued. "I see that in you, you know. When you're with Freddie."
I smiled again, the tears still falling from my cheeks faster than I could dry them. This – everything that was happening right now – was the very definition of a Christmas miracle. I think Mrs. Weasley needed one of those – little did I know she'd find it with me.
Before either of us could speak again, Fred came bursting into the room.
"Mum are we having lunch-oh," he said shortly, not expecting his mother and girlfriend to be weeping all over one another.
"Yes, yes, I'm coming," she said, standing up and smoothing her apron. "Fetch your siblings, would you, Fred? You're all helping me with lunch, and I don't want to hear a single complaint!"
And with that, she gave me another smile, a wide, grateful smile, and left the room. Fred turned back to me, his cheeks crimson and his mouth agape. Before either of us could get to talking, I jumped up from the couch and followed Mrs. Weasley out of the drawing room toward the kitchen to help with lunch.
After Christmas lunch (and far too many off-color comments from Sirius about the whereabouts of Kreacher), we all cleared our plates and cleaned up before regrouping for a visit to Mr. Weasley in the hospital. Moody and Mundungus both arrived in time for dessert, Mundungus pulling up in a Renault Clio Williams that he'd managed to put an Enlargement Charm on, claiming that he'd "borrowed" it from its Muggle owner. After a few minutes of wrangling everyone into the car, I found myself stuffed into the backseat, sandwiched between Ginny and Fred.
When we arrived at St. Mungo's, it was, to our surprise, teeming with people. I saw the nurse at the reception desk directing traffic all around her, telling patients and families where to go and when. It made my head spin, and I was rather shocked that a hospital would be this full on Christmas Day.
We reached the ward after a few more minutes of walking, and we found Mr. Weasley propped up in bed, a dinner tray on his lap and a small smile on his face.
"How are we, everyone?" he asked as brightly as he could. "Happy Christmas to you all!"
"Everything alright, Arthur?" Molly asked warily, eyeing him carefully.
"Yes, yes, quite alright! You haven't seen Healer Smythwick though, have you?"
"No," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Why?"
"Nothing, no reason at all," Mr. Weasley said quickly, turning his attention to the pile of presents before him. "Ah, the main event! Did you all have a good Christmas? What did you all get? Oh, Harry, this is brilliant- "
"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley cut in, examining his bandages rapidly. "You've had your bandages changed. They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."
"What?" said Mr. Weasley, trying to pretend like he didn't know what she was talking about. "No, no — it's nothing — it's — I — Well — now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea… He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in… complementary medicine... I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on — on Muggle wounds —"
Mrs. Weasley clapped her hand over her mouth and groaned, a noise halfway between a shriek and an exasperated UGH! Behind me, Remus had wandered over to a werewolf on the opposite side of the ward, who had no visitors, no Christmas gifts, and a melancholy look on his face when he saw the crowd around Mr. Weasley. Bill exclaimed that he was going to find a cup of tea, and Fred and George followed. Not wanting to be alone with him, I stayed with Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny.
"Do you mean to tell me," continued Mrs. Weasley, "that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"
"It was just — just something Pye and I thought we'd try!" Mr. Weasley continued to explain away. "Only, most unfortunately — well, with these particular kinds of wounds — it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped —"
"Meaning?"
"Well . . . well, I don't know whether you know what — what stitches are?"
Before Mrs. Weasley could answer, Harry turned to the three of us, his face pale and his eyes wide.
"You know, I rather fancy a cup of tea," he muttered, walking past Ron and Hermione and heading for the door. Not wanting to be alone with Molly and Arthur, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I all scurried after him in search of a cup of tea and perhaps some quiet.
On our way to find the rest of the Weasleys in the tearoom, we happened to wander past the "Spell Damage" ward. I kept walking at a brisk pace past the door, desperately in need or tea or coffee or something, until Ron stopped in his tracks in front of the door.
"Blimey!" he exclaimed. "It's- "
"Professor Lockhart!" Hermione exclaimed breathlessly.
I whipped around to see the doors to the ward opening and a tall, golden-haired man in a lilac dressing gown standing in the doorframe. He had wide, blue eyes and a glittering, pearly white smile, a smile dozens of girls fawned over when he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts in my fifth year.
"Well, hello there!" he said brightly. "I expect you'd like my autograph, wouldn't you?"
"Er, how are you, Professor?" Ron asked warily, the guilt in his voice palpable. Lockhart only continued smiling, his eyes bright but completely devoid of any sense of self or understanding of what was happening around him.
"I'm very well, thank you for asking!" he exclaimed again, whipping out a matching lilac quill from his robes. "How many autographs would you like? I certainly hope I have enough photos to go around- "
He stopped short when his eyes landed on Harry, who only stared blankly back at Lockhart. His face contorted into a confused sort of look.
"Haven't we met?" he asked.
"Er, yeah," Harry replied. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts."
"Me? Teach?" Lockhart asked again, his eyes widening, as if he didn't believe a word Harry had said. Then, his face changed back to that mindlessly happy look it had moments before.
"Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"
Before he could write a word, a motherly looking Healer poked her head out from the door of the ward and took a few rapid steps toward us.
"Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"
"We're doing autographs!" Lockhart told the Healer excitedly. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"
"Listen to him," said the Healer, taking his arm and beaming as though he were a precocious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked . . . not that he's dangerous! It is nice of you to have come to see him —"
"Actually, we were just — er —"
The Healer continued smiling expectantly at us, and Ron's mutter of "going to have a cup of tea" trailed off as quickly as it began. We exchanged looks and saw no other choice but to follow the Healer and Lockhart down the corridor.
"Let's not stay long," Ron said quietly. We all nodded in agreement.
The Healer pointed her wand at the door of the ward and muttered "Alohomora." She stepped through the door and helped Lockhart into an armchair near the door before turning back around to speak to us.
"This is our long-term care ward," she explained. "Permanent spell damage, you know. However, Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen a real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well…well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat."
The Healer gave us another small, motherly smile and wandered away to check on each patient in the ward. We all looked around at the cold, almost too clinical room, filled with patients whose beds were draped with flowered curtains, as to give them and their visitors privacy. I heard the Healer talking to a man named Broderick, who'd apparently received a lovely plant and calendar with hippogriffs on it, when I thought I saw a boy I recognized.
"Hey, Gin," I whispered. "Look that way. Is that- "
"Neville!" Ron exclaimed, waving wildly in the same direction I was looking.
The boy turned around quickly at the sound of his name; his face almost frightened at being recognized. Sure enough, it was Neville Longbottom, a friend of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's from school. Everyone knew him as the klutzy, unlucky boy from Gryffindor, and my brother was known to torment him at school, but I always found him to be sweet and kind and undeserving of all the nastiness people threw at him. Most people my brother targeted were.
"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville's grandmother graciously, sizing the four of us up from beneath the brim of her wide, vulture-adorned hat. She smiled slyly at Harry, extending a wrinkled hand for him to shake. "Yes, I know exactly who you are, Mr. Potter."
"Er, thanks," Harry replied quietly. "Nice to meet you."
"And you two are Weasleys, clearly," she said, gesturing to Ron and Ginny before turning to Hermione warmly. "And you must be Miss Granger? Neville's told me all about you, gotten him out of a few stick spots. He's a good boy, but he lacks his father's talent, I'm afraid- "
"What?!" Ron exclaimed breathlessly, looking wildly down the other end of the ward. "Neville, is that your dad down there?!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harry tried to stomp on his foot to shut him up. I turned around and tried to see what they were talking about, but all I saw was a dark-haired man in a blue dressing gown with a serene, almost placid look on his face. His eyes were the same devoid blue as Lockhart's, but it was more obvious on him. Neville's grandmother turned back to face us, looking down at Neville in shock.
"Neville, have you not told your friends?" she asked. "It's nothing to be ashamed of! You should be proud! Your parents didn't give their health and their sanity- "
"I'm not ashamed," Neville said quickly, his eyes downcast and his voice quiet and shaking.
"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" his grandmother exclaimed, before turning back to us and drawing a long inhale. "My son and his wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers. By Bellatrix Lestrange and her husband, to be exact."
My eyes widened, then hit the floor as soon as I heard my aunt's name. I'd known Aunt Bella and her husband were in Azkaban, but my mother always tried to hide the reason why from me, like with most other things that she was ashamed of. I didn't blame her, though – I was ashamed to know the truth now. My family's cruelty really did reach into every corner of our world, it seemed. I always found it in the most unlikely places, and no one, not even me, was safe from it.
Next to me, Hermione and Ginny's eyes were welling up with tears. Ron's face had gone completely pale, and Harry's eyes were, like mine, glued to the floor.
"They were Aurors, you know," Neville's grandmother continued. "Very respected in the wizarding community, and highly gifted, the pair of them. I-what is it, Alice, dear?"
We turned to see a woman in a long, pink nightgown standing before us. I recognized her from an old photo of the original Order; gone was the woman with curly black hair and wide, brown eyes, laughing at the camera and at her husband behind her. Alice Longbottom's hair was white and thin, and her eyes almost seemed too large for her now gaunt face. She tried to speak but didn't (or couldn't). Instead, she held out her hand to reveal a Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper and placed it in her son's hand.
"Thanks, Mum," Neville whispered, meeting her vacant gaze for the last time, giving his mother another small smile before she wandered back to her bed.
"Well, we'd better get back," said Neville's grandmother, putting on long, chartreuse gloves made of velvet. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now."
As they walked away, I could've sworn Neville slipped the wrapper into his pocket. As the doors opened and closed behind them, we all turned to each other in shock.
"I never knew that," Hermione said quietly.
"Nor did I," Ron said.
"Me, neither," Ginny followed.
"I did," Harry said remorsefully. "Dumbledore made me swear not to tell. That's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for. For using the Cruciatus Curse on them until they lost their minds."
All eyes suddenly fell on me and I felt my cheeks, fingertips and toes burning up. Finally, Ginny spoke up.
"Cass, did you- "
"I didn't know," I said. It was the honest to Merlin truth. "My parents always made a point to hide those things from me. Hid them from the world, rather. Couldn't have Aunt Bella tarnishing my dad's campaigning for power at the Ministry, could they?"
All six eyebrows furrowed at my words. I'd never shared anything like that with this group, but now they knew. I guess that had to count for something.
When we returned from the hospital, everyone dispersed to the drawing room to listen to music on the record player or to the kitchen for tea and biscuits. I, however, was still feeling uneasy from Mrs. Longbottom's revelation, so I retreated to my room to listen to the radio and drink a Christmas glass of Ogden's Old. As I trudged up the stairs, I heard the record player in the drawing room playing the opening notes of "Fairytale of New York," a Muggle Christmas song that was rather popular in England, followed by Sirius and Remus's raucous singing.
I closed the door behind me and turned to crash face-first into my pillows when something pointy hit me in the stomach unexpectedly.
"OW!" I exclaimed, grabbing my jumper where the object hit me. "What the- "
I looked down at the center of my quilt to see a small box wrapped in green paper sitting there. It couldn't have been bigger than my hand, and I picked it up gingerly, completely thrown off by this mystery gift. I hadn't been in my room since we left for the hospital, so it could've been anyone who left the gift, or even Lyra who may have dropped it on the bed after she returned from flying.
I unwrapped the tiny box carefully, peeling back the paper to reveal another box, this time paper white. I ripped the tape on each side and removed the top, picking at the paper to reveal what lay inside.
It was a ring. A gold, serpent-shaped ring with an emerald eye. I ran my fingers over the crisscross pattern of the snake's skin, marveling at the ornate details of this clearly expensive gift. I pawed through the box to see if there was a note or any identification of the giver, and a piece of paper fell out of the bottom. I flipped it over carefully, ignoring the writing on the back.
It was a photograph of him and I. It must have been taken during the opening waltz of the Yule Ball, and I clearly didn't know I was being photographed. My back was to the camera, but I guess I was moving my head about so quickly that I happened to catch the photographer's eye. I'm smiling broadly and laughing at the camera, and he's leading me through the dance, smiling down at me adoringly even though I clearly didn't notice. It's the only photograph of I have of us and, even though things are strange right now, it's far more precious than any gift he'll ever give me in the future, or any gift I'll ever receive, as far as I can tell.
I moved the box onto my dresser and slipped the ring onto my finger slowly. Much like him and I, the ring was a perfect fit. I smiled down at my hand, admiring the glittering serpent and its emerald eye on my middle finger, mostly because I wanted to show off when I flipped him off in the future. I suddenly felt guilty that I hadn't gotten him something better for Christmas, and even guiltier that I thought he'd forgotten about me entirely.
Before I could get too far deep into my thoughts, I slipped under the covers, propped the photograph up on the nightstand's lamp, and drifted off to sleep, dreaming about the best Christmas I'd ever had.