The trip to Hogsmeade before Christmas didn't end well. Draco told me he had something to do and asked me to go to the candy store first. When he reappeared with Crabbe and Goyle later, I looked at his glowing face and the snow and mud on his body and almost immediately guessed that he had gone to bully Longbottom again.

"I don't understand," I don't know how many times I have repeated this sentence to Draco Malfoy. "Why do you have to bully Longbottom?"

"Does this really matter to you that much? I just used the Impediment Charm to make him fall into the mud puddle. He didn't know to get out of the way himself!" He, like countless times before, didn't take my protest seriously and sneered as he wiped the mud off the back of his hand. "I just want more people to see the true face of the so-called the Chosen One - incompetent, cowardly, and useless - he just happened to become the Chosen One, that's no big deal."

I stopped and no longer followed him. It began to snow in Hogsmeade, and the butterbeer I just drank didn't give off a warm temperature in my stomach. The little bit of happiness I finally felt on Christmas Eve disappeared because of Draco's careless tone.

"Hey, those Gryffindors will help him clean up, okay?" He turned around and shrugged. "Do you want to go to Gladrags again? You just glanced at that dress robe in the window a few times – I haven't decided the Christmas gift for you yet."

"I'm a Gryffindor too." Fine snowflakes kept falling into my neck where there was no scarf. I took a few steps back. "I'm going to see if Longbottom needs any help."

He called my name several times from behind, but I didn't turn back.

I found Neville Longbottom, covered in mud, without much trouble by the roadside. He was limping along with great difficulty. People passing by were whispering to their companions, and some were pointing at the scar on Longbottom's forehead without any attempt to hide it. He looked confused and scared as I approached. Yes, at that time Longbottom was afraid of me. The trauma my father had cast on him was so great that he would involuntarily flinch when saying "Snape" as he greeted me.

"Can't you just clean these things off?" I said in a not-so-friendly tone as I took out my wand. (He took a few steps back.) "Scourgify!"

"I was worried about accidentally damaging my clothes. Thank you, Miss Snape." His lips were still purple from the cold, but he didn't forget to thank me.

"What happened, Neville?" I heard Potter's voice. He came over from the direction of the Honeydukes. "You don't look well."

"I think he needs something hot to drink." I quickly cut in before Longbottom could say Draco's name. I raised my face and tried to give Harry Potter a smile for the first time in my life. "Can you go to the Three Broomsticks and buy him a bottle of butterbeer?"

"Ah? Oh, sure - of course no problem." He scratched his head. "See you at the Three Broomsticks, Neville - will you come too, Iris? I mean, Miss Snape?"

I cast the simplest drying spell on Longbottom's wizard robe again. The effect wasn't very good, but I was afraid that using another spell might burn his robe. Without looking up, I declined his invitation. "I want to go back to Hogwarts."

I didn't talk to Draco again before going home for Christmas. He didn't come to me either. He sat with Pansy Parkinson even during classes. The whole castle was filled with the Christmas atmosphere. Everyone was chattering non-stop about the holidays and gifts, and the assignments loudly given by the teachers on the platform were selectively ignored by everyone. But I felt a bit headache, because Christmas meant going to visit Aunt Petunia's family with my mother.

Dad would, as usual, attend the Hogwarts Christmas dinner, so Mom took me to Aunt Petunia's house to celebrate the festival. Then our family would spend Christmas Eve together in the evening. It was the same every year – it sounded like a pretty good arrangement, if Aunt Petunia's family were also wizards.

In the first few years after I was born, Mom and her sister didn't have any contact with each other. It was only when I rummaged through her wardrobe and found those old, non-moving photos that I learned I had an aunt. Later, Mom summoned up the courage to take me, who was only three years old at that time, to knock on her sister's door. Most of what happened then has faded from my memory. I only remember the horrified look in Aunt Petunia's eyes when she looked at me, as if she was looking at a monster, and the huge hulk in their house whose every step made the whole floor vibrate.

Blood ties are an important bond, and Mom insists on this. She has never felt inferior because she is a Muggle-born. On the contrary, she is very active in trying to repair the relationship between her and her sister. Regardless of whether those letters with ordinary stamps, not delivered by owls, receive a reply or not, she sends gifts and letters every festival. She even tries to invite her sister to our home as a guest – of course, she has never succeeded.

I always think that if I could inherit half of Mom's vitality and courage, I would probably be a lot happier. Dad doesn't interfere with Mom's efforts, but he never goes with us to visit Aunt Petunia's family. In a sense, this might already be the best help he can offer.

All students would cheer the moment the holiday starts, and I'm no exception. Just like no child doesn't look forward to their Christmas presents. However, since I don't have many friends, I don't receive many Christmas gifts either. As soon as I got home from school for the holiday, Mom and I decorated the Christmas tree together. Then we dug out those decorations from the basement to spruce up the room. Mom opened her arms and gave me a warm hug that smelled faintly fragrant. We sat together to plan this year's Christmas itinerary. She had already gone to the Muggle store to buy the electronic products my cousin liked, the cosmetics Aunt Petunia often used, and the wine Uncle Vernon loved to drink.

Aunt Petunia also prepares a gift for me every year – a dress with a strange color, covered in lace and ribbons. The style is always so ugly. I suspect they've been buying my Christmas gifts from the same store for over a decade.

However, this year my pile of Christmas presents was bigger than last year's. I rubbed my eyes when I got up in the morning, thinking that some gifts from Mom's colleagues for her had accidentally been mixed into my share.

Dad and Mom gave me a complete set of "Alchemy and the Origins of Potions". Miss Granger sent a big box of sugar-free snacks (she seemed to have mentioned that her parents were dentists). I even received a gift from Longbottom. It was a small mirror, and the attached note said thank you for my help in Hogsmeade.

The package signed by Draco Malfoy was wrapped in light silver wrapping paper. When I opened it, I found it was the light green wizard dress robe that I had taken a few extra glances at in Gladrags. As soon as I picked it up, a card fluttered out of the clothes.

I originally thought it was an ordinary Christmas card. When I picked it up, I found it said:

"Promise Card to Miss Iris Snape: I promise not to bully Longbottom anymore. Valid for half a year."

On the back of the card, it simply said:

"Merry Christmas.

Draco Malfoy"

I looked at the card for a while, then stuffed it into the pocket of my robe. After a while, I put it in the drawer of my bedside table.

The Christmas dinner was as uncomfortable as ever. Aunt Petunia said to my mom in that sharp tone that I was looking more and more like her. It was hard to take such words as a compliment in that tone. I sat on the chair, straightening my back unnaturally, hoping to focus all my attention on the pudding in front of me, which had who-knows-how much syrup poured on it. Dudley sat in the position farthest from me. We were at the two corners of the dining table that were the farthest apart – I think Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon have a misunderstanding about magic. They never let their precious son stay within one square meter of me for more than a minute, as if magic would spread from me to Dudley like an infectious disease if the time exceeded that.

But this also avoided a lot of trouble. I've seen Dudley lose his temper and smash his electronic products. To be honest, I don't want to stay within one square meter of him either (given his huge size), and I'm not allowed to use my wand in his house.

After the stiff atmosphere of the dinner ended, I picked up my Christmas gift box (another ugly dress) and Mom was about to say goodbye to Aunt Petunia's family.

I originally thought they would be eager to throw us out and close the door as they did before. Mom had already put on her scarf. Aunt Petunia stood on the porch and suddenly asked Mom in that shrill voice. Her expression looked very unnatural, as if someone had slapped her and forced her to speak: "You wrote in your letter, that dangerous escaped prisoner，is from your side？"

"Ah, yes." Mom looked both confused and happy. Perhaps it was finally not a topic about praising Dudley as "the smartest child in the world just because he only failed five courses." "I wrote because I was worried -"

"Then this is a very dangerous person," Aunt Petunia mumbled. "Your job seems to be catching these - these dangerous insanes?"

"Are you worried about me, Petunia?" Mom was so touched that she wanted to reach out and give her sister a hug, but Aunt Petunia dodged it.

"I'm just afraid of trouble!" she said sharply. "Your unreliable husband doesn't seem to be able to take care of the child. If something happens to you, there's no way we - we would ever -"

She randomly stuck out her index finger and pointed at me.

"We would never accept her living with us, never."

I blinked. Merlin's beard, these were truly warm and considerate Christmas wishes among relatives.

"So you can't have anything happen to you." After being hugged by Mom with teary eyes, Aunt Petunia said with her neck stiff. She looked as if she had been hit by a Bind Curse.

"Of course." Mom showed a bright smile. "Merry Christmas, Petunia." This was a form of concern, at least in Mom's eyes. She seemed to be in a very good mood.

"Iris," when we reached a quiet street corner and I was already ready to Apparate with her, Mom suddenly asked me, "Do you have anything you want to tell Mom? Now that Dad isn't here, you can tell me anything you want."

I met her green eyes under the dim streetlight. My eyes, exactly the same as hers, were perhaps the most beautiful gift she had given me.

Professor Lupin must have written to her about those things regarding my Boggart. I realized this immediately. She reached out to stroke my deep red hair that hung by my ear, and I lowered my head to look at my toes.

"Ah," I heard myself say in the most cheerful and lively voice I could muster, "I'm still not very good at Transfiguration. Fortunately, Miss Granger always helps me."

"Liz," she called me softly. Only she would call me this name, as I hadn't inherited all of her excellence. "Sometimes, what you see isn't necessarily the whole picture, okay? Mom is so sorry. Sometimes Mom is just too busy -"

"You're already the best mom in the world," I whispered. "I'm not a naive little kid. You don't need to apologize for those things."

"Mom will never leave you," she took my hand. Her palm was warm. She had always possessed a powerful force that made people feel safe. "Mom promises you. This is the last thing you should be afraid of in this world - you and your father are the two people I love the most. This won't change for any reason, okay?"

"Professor Lupin promised me that he wouldn't write to tell you." I lowered my head in embarrassment, quickly wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, and mumbled.

"Um... Professor Lupin didn't tell me about this." She smiled. "However, the person who sent me the letter doesn't want you to know who he is."

"He?" I tilted my head in confusion. "Who?"

"My Iris has grown up," Mom kissed my forehead and said with a smile. "It's so strange. I always feel like you'll always be that little girl who used to lie in the closet, holding onto my dress and falling asleep."

--TBC--