CHAPTER 3.7

Hypnotic, hypnotic

You're leaving me breathless

I hate this, I hate this

You're not the one I believe in

Scratches littering their hands, Hermione and Cassie grinned proudly at each other. The ball of orange curled up on Cassie's bed, however, glared at them with distaste. Most nights, Crookshanks fell asleep at the bottom of Hermione's bed but in the day, he had a particular affinity for Cassie's grey blanket. Not only was it soft but it smelt cosy and comforting. It hid him from the world. Unfortunately, despite how deep he had buried himself into it, it hadn't hidden him from the cheerful girls. Two yellow eyes watched their every movement. A string of red tinsel had already been tied around his neck - the cause of the red marks marring Hermione and Cassie's. The redhead was already dressed in her annual green sweater that her mother knitted each Christmas. Per tradition, a silver C decorated the front of it. When they had woken up, presents had already been placed at the end of their bed. The two witches had eagerly ripped them open before they began torturing the ginger cat. In the small pile of gifts, Cassie had received two mysterious presents. Wrapped in brown packaging paper was a book filled with advanced healing spells. Neat cursive had been printed on the inside of the front cover.

'Whilst I forbid you from coming anywhere near me during a full moon, I admire your thirst for knowledge. I hope this will help aid you on your quest to become a Dragon Healer. Happy holidays, Cassie.'

A paw print had been scribbled in the bottom right hand corner in lieu of a signature. The sight of it made her giggle. Remus Lupin had officially obtained first place in the battle for favourite Professor. After all, McGonagall had never bought her a Christmas gift.

The other parcel remained a complete mystery. A small tag had been attached but all it contained was her name, 'Cassandra'. Nobody called her that other than her mother when she was in trouble, and the twins when they were attempting to wind her up. Inside had been a lily, trapped in a jar. She had watched it wither up the moment her hand touched it, only for it to blossom to life a second later. Initially, her traitorous mind had drifted to Malfoy, seeing as he was prone to buying her unnecessary yet thoughtful gifts. Except Cassie knew for a fact that he had no idea what her favourite flower was. And that was because she swore that she hated flowers.

Only two weeks earlier - whilst alone in the dormitory - she had started ranting to herself about the stupidity of gifting someone flowers. All they did was die and why would you give someone a dying gift? Flowers are not a sign of lasting love. They are simply a form of a cheap apology that isn't truly meant in the long-run. Yet somehow, someone had known that and found a way to combat her issue with them.

Crookshanks gave a long yawn when the bushy-haired witch reminded the redhead that they had gifts to give to the other half of the Quartet. Perhaps if he kept his eyes closed for long enough - and looked cute - they would leave him be. Alas, that was not the case as Cassie scooped the angry cat into her arms. Carrying her fellow ginger down the stairs, Cassie chuckled as this meant Hermione was left to try and carry the presents downstairs. Robbing her friend of her joy, Hermione cast a levitation charm instead of attempting to pile the gifts into her arms.

Barging into the Third Years Boys, the Weasley didn't bother knocking as she strolled into her brother's room. Immediately, Ron became dramatic and demanded that the huge furball be escorted out of the room. His twin paid no attention to him.

"Merry Christmas, boys," grinned Cassie, launching a present at Ron's head.

Thankfully it was a box so it made a satisfying thunk as it connected with his skull. Sniggering at her brother's pain, she handed Harry his present. Apologising that it wasn't much, her cheeks flamed. Ever the polite child, Harry reminded her that he'd technically already had his present when she'd given him the book at Halloween so therefore, buying him another one had been redundant. Green eyes rolled and she gave him a playful shove - and that was when she spotted it.

A strangled gasp bubbled up in her throat and she hurried over to get a closer look at the Firebolt. Harry was shocked at the awe sparkling in her green orbs.

"Is this yours?"

Harry nodded, shocked by her reaction and wondering if he should be suspicious. Whilst she loved Quidditch due to her fiercely competitive nature, he'd never seen her engage with the sport outside of school matches. She didn't follow a specific team, she didn't own paraphernalia, she didn't check the Sports section of the Daily Prophet, and she had never mentioned brooms. Yet here she was, practically salivating over the fastest one yet to be made.

"How did you get it?"

Before he could respond, Crookshanks leapt from his quiet spot on Seamus' bed. Ron bellowed as the cat pounced on his chest, sharp claws ripping his pyjamas. A horrified gasp left Cassie's mouth as her cruel twin brother attempted to kick the poor animal. Furious with the red-headed male, Hermione pulled the hissing pet in for a hug before stomping out of the room.

"Well done, Ronald. You ruined Christmas... again." Cassie sighed.

Even in his traumatised state, Ron's eyes managed to narrow in on the one present left in Cassie's hand as she headed for the door. Instead of allowing her to leave, he began interrogating her about its nature. Who was it for? Why was it wrapped so nicely in comparison to his? (Which, for the record, she had simply covered in toilet roll). And most importantly, what was inside of it?

"That's none of your business, cat abuser."

The door slammed shut behind her.

"She's bloody insane. I'm surprised she hasn't tried strangling me in my sleep."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't get too comfortable." Harry responded, thinking of his scary friend. "It's bound to happen one day."

Black ice coated the steps to the Owlery. Unable to see which part of the stairs would cause her to break her neck, the cold girl gripped the railing as if it were her lifeline. Her footing wasn't the best on solid ground and Seamus wasn't around to catch her should she fall this time. Icy wind bit her cheeks as she climbed, causing her to snuggle deeper into her scarf. Owls flew above her head, their hoots providing a delightful song to accompany her arduous journey. Suppressing a shiver, she was grateful when she finally reached the top. Cassie took a moment (or five) to catch her breath. Doubled over, she panted as her heart beat wildly. Dying for a tall glass of water, the young witch vowed to take up running to improve her fitness. Or I could buy a new cardiovascular system on the black market, she snorted to herself. When she was confident she was no longer about to pass out, she straightened herself and began searching for an owl.

Most of them were fast asleep atop their perches, enjoying their time away from the hundreds of students that borrowed them during term time. Tucked behind some of the larger owls, one small bird watched her with curious eyes. Cassie smiled upon recognising it. Hurrying over to the tawny that had delivered her Dragonology book, she ran a finger over its head in greeting. After feeding it a treat, she passed him the parcel and directed him to her desired location. The owl let out a small hoot before jumping off its perch and soaring out the window.

The redhead watched it sweep between clouds, relishing in the flakes of snow that fell. At the sight before her, the girl beamed. Christmas was her favourite time of year. Joy filled the air and people were often cheerful, and kinder to one another. Remembering that not everyone got along this time of year, Cassie's face fell as she realised that upon returning to the castle, she would be stuck in the middle of an argument between her friends once again.

Hands twitched as he restrained them, ignoring the urge to run his fingers through his hair. Whilst the amount of gel he used had decreased over the years, he had been forced to style it perfectly today. If even one hair was out of place, his mother would have a nervous breakdown. Wrestling with the tie around his neck, he loosened it slightly so that he could breathe for a moment. Guests would start arriving shortly, and he would be thrust into an evening of endless small talk and fake smiles.

Christmas was often his least favourite time of the year. Christmas morning would be spent gathered around the exorbitant tree with his parents. Both of them would watch as he unwrapped gift after gift. Each one would be more expensive and more beautifully made than the last but none of them were heartfelt. When he had thanked them for the final present, his father retreated into his study and his mother threw herself into decorating the Manor for the party. For the years that they weren't hosting, she spent the morning planning the perfect outfits and gifts for their attendance to the annual Pureblood Christmas Party.

Being surrounded by worthy wizards sounded like it should be the ideal way for him to spend his evening. In reality, all Draco wanted was to curl up in his bed. A book and pyjamas was how he wanted his Christmas night to go. After all, he had treated himself to quite a few new books; a gift from him to him. The doorbell chimes throughout the house and the blond sighed, knowing his evening was only just beginning.

Deep green sheets called out to him as he gazed at this bed wistfully. The mirror reminded him that he needed to tighten his tie before he looked impeccable, and he did so with a faux cry. As he turned towards the door, there was a tapping against his window. A small head stared at him from a sideways angle and he smiled at the sight of it. Unlatching the window, he allowed the bird to hop inside onto the windowsill. Relieving the owl of the package, he slid the envelope out from underneath the ribbon. A lion decorated the front of the card with a Santa hat atop its mane. It roared at him when he opened it. An unwilling chuckle slipped out of his mouth as his eyes scanned the contents of the card. She made it so difficult to remain angry with her. Even if the words she had written weren't exactly heart-warming.

'Merry Christmas, asshat. I still hate you so don't think this is an attempt of reconciliation. However, I bought this prior to you calling me a bitch. I'm sure it amuses you to know I'm too poor to let money go to waste so here. It'll open to you. You just have to want it to open. See you when you come back. Oh, and fuck you.'

Draco laughed as he heard her voice in his head. He turned and placed the card on his bedside table, beside the side of the bed he slept on. Pulling the present into his lap, he was unsurprised to see that the wrapping was as nearly done as her school notes. Sliding off the bow, he tore the paper to reveal a... journal? Draco flipped it over, his grey eyes widening at the illustration on the front cover. A snake slithered around the cover in the form of an S, leaving a sparkling trail. Occasionally, it hissed at him. Attempting to lift the cover, he was frustrated when it didn't budge. Remembering the instructions the note had given, Draco tried a different tactic. Placing a ring-clad hand on the front cover, he shut his eyes and willed it to open. Words appeared on the first page one-by-one. The familiar calligraphy stared up at him and he felt the ice around his heart melt.

Correction: she made it impossible to be angry at her. He wasn't sure how someone could be so kind-hearted, especially to a man who had done nothing but torment her, her friends and her family.

'For those thoughts you feel you need to keep hidden from others,' read the inscription. She'd bought him a secret journal that allowed him to tell someone (even if it was only himself) about the person he wishes he could be. For the first time in a long while, Draco Malfoy had reviewed a heartfelt gift. Even when the House Elf popped into his room and told him that Mistress Malfoy required his presence downstairs, Draco's smile never faltered. As he greeted guests, the joy in his step was genuine.

Maybe there was still hope for Christmas after all.

Now when I caught myself

I had to stop myself

From saying something

That I should've never thought