The Houses Competition
House: Slytherin
Class: Herbology
Prompt(s) [Event] Winter Holiday Celebration (Holiday must be between November 1- January 1) [Character] Scorpius Malfoy
Word Count: 1395
Beta: Ash K, Aya
Even when there was no cheer for celebration, Astoria still made Christmas special for her son.
Charismas Woes
December twenty-fifth, or in other words, Christmas Day, was supposed to be one of the most magical days of the year. Even the air smelled sweet and sharp, like peppermints. As the morning sunlight poured through the windows, kids all around the world would get up and race out of bed to find presents under their tree. The sound of ripping paper tearing through the house was accompanied by screams of joy as the kids discovered the toys that were left during the night along with mountains of sweets.
Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Exploding Bon Bon's, Sugar Quill Lollipops, and Acid Pops filled the children's stockings, along with dozens of other sweets that would rot their teeth. Extendable Ears, Reusable Hangman, Wonderwitch products along with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products, not to mention some Muggle Magic tricks that the children thought were fascinating, littered the floor with the discarded wrappings.
Young Scorpius Malfoy was always the first one to wake up on Christmas morning, racing down to his parents' bedroom and jumping on their bed in order to wake them up before quickly making his way downstairs. The Christmas tree stood tall and what appeared to be hundreds of presents lay underneath.
Every Christmas morning, Scorpius' mum would make him a mug of hot chocolate with whipped cream on top, covered in tiny marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon. Last year, Scorpius received his first broom, a Yajirushi model that was made in Japan. Scorpius remembered seeing that broom at the Quidditch World Cup, where the Japanese National Quidditch team who had used the Yajirushi model won the had wanted that broom from the moment he had laid eyes on it during that game.
Scorpius spent the rest of that day outside on his new broom, racing up and down on his property and seeing how fast he could go until he was called inside for Christmas dinner, which was just as special for Scorpius.
Instead of the traditional turkey, Scorpius' mum made a honey-glazed spiral ham with the perfect mashed potatoes, just the way Scorpius liked them, with no lumps and roasted vegetables on the side. For dessert, there was a Bûche de Noël with vanilla ice cream, along with another mug of hot chocolate.
After dinner, Astoria had taken her son to the local festival where they participated in the snowman-making competition, snowball fights, and ice skating. Scorpius remembered the snowman they made a few years ago. The snowman had stood seven feet tall, standing above all the other snowmen with one of his dad's old Slytherin scarves wrapped around its neck. And, even though they didn't win, Scorpius had felt like they did.
Scorpius would look forward to Christmas all year; he would count down the days, getting more and more excited as Christmas came closer, but this year, things were different. As the light of dawn seeped into his room, Scorpius didn't race down to his parents' room. There was no feelings of joy or happiness or the overwhelming feeling of excitement he got on Christmas morning. Scorpius felt like it was just any other day of the year.
This was the first Christmas Scorpius would spend without his mother and the weight of that realisation felt heavy.
Scorpius didn't know how long he spent in bed, watching as the sun slowly clawed up his walls, lighting his room with Christmas glow. He didn't want to go downstairs; he didn't want to celebrate Christmas without his mother. How was he supposed to be happy when a piece of his family was no longer here?
It was late into the morning when Scorpius finally made his way out of bed and shuffled downstairs. The tree no longer stood tall and some ways it had dulled, the lights no longer shining as bright as the previous Christmases. Scorpius stared at his stocking, which lay under the tree with the presents, filled to the top with sweets, but Scorpius didn't have the desire to rush under the tree and rip open the gifts.
"Morning, my little scorpion," Scorpius' father said from the kitchen. "I didn't hear you get up."
Scorpius looked over at his father, noticing the cup of coffee in his hands. Judging by how full the coffee pot was, it seemed he was on his third cup. Scorpius suspected that his father hadn't slept at all last night.
Ever since Scorpius' mother had died, his father, Draco, hadn't been the same. His father used to be happy. Every morning, Scorpius would come down to see his father reading the Daily Prophet, saying that he was a better Quidditch player then the Gimbi Giant-Slayers, who had lost yet again. Scorpius would just roll his eyes as he sat down next to his father before digging into the homemade blueberry pancakes his mother had made.
Scorpius never thought he would miss his father complaining about the Quidditch teams, but right now, he would give anything to come down the stairs to hear his father yelling at the paper before flinging it away with a scowl or a sneer.
"Would you like some breakfast? I can make you some of those Christmas waffles you like," Scorpius' father suggested, but that simple question only made Scorpius sadder as he was forced to remember the Christmas waffles his mum used to make for him. Thick, fluffy waffles with maple syrup pooled in its crevices and whipped cream with crushed-up candy canes on top.
"I'm not really hungry at the moment, sorry," Scorpius mumbled before going over to the couch and lying down, letting his legs hang over the side as he stared emotionlessly at the presents under the tree.
His father frowned, setting his cup of coffee down before getting up and making his way over to Scorpius.
"There's no need to be sorry," he spoke softly as he sat down on the edge of the couch next to Scorpius. "Just let me know when you're hungry, and I'll get you something. Do you want to open your presents?"
It was an obvious attempt to cheer him up, but Scorpius just shook his head as he continued to stare at the tree. Decorating the tree was always his mum's favorite part of the holiday. Some of the first spells Scorpius ever learned were charms that made the ornaments spin or ones that made the nutcrackers dance around the branches of the tree. "I don't feel like opening presents… I don't feel like doing anything."
"At least open this one," his father insisted as he placed a small wrapped box next to Scorpius.
"I don't feel like opening presents," Scorprius said once again, a bit irritated that his father wasn't listening to him.
"You would want to open this one. Your mother got it for you just before she passed away," his father explained.
Scorprius' eyes widened at his father's words before he slowly sat up and picked up the small box, running his thumb over the red-and-green wrappings. He was overcome with emotion at the sight of her dainty handwriting on the card. He remembered the way she would hold her quill in between her thumb and forefinger before writing each letter carefully and purposefully. This card was most likely one of the last things she had ever written on. Scorpius whispered, "She did?"
"It was something very special she wanted to give to you," his father said as he wrapped his arm around Scorpius and pulled him closer.
Scorpius carefully peeled back the wrappings to reveal a small music box with the night sky carved into the dark wood. Scorpius flipped the lid open and gasped when it started to play a beautiful melody.
"I…I remember this song," Scorpius said softly, watching as the small Quidditch player spun around in a small circle inside the music box.
"The song is called Secret Garden. Your mother used to sing it to you when you were young. It was the only song that was able to put you to sleep for months," his father explained, probably remembering the times when Scorpius would cry nonstop for hours—his mother had told him that—and the only thing that would soothe the distraught child was when his mother would sing to him.
"I remember… I really miss her," Scorpius said before closing the lid. "I really wish Mum was here." Scorpius lay his head down on his father's shoulder.
"So do I, son… so do I," his father mumbled as he held Scorpius in his embrace.