🖇·˚ ༘ ┊͙[ chapter seventeen ] ! ˊˎ

╰─▸ presents, santa and inside jokes

     WAKING UP ON CHRISTMAS MORNING never really feels real. I rubbed my eyes to the sound of my brother's pounding footsteps down the stairs. I opened my curtain to see the once-green lawn sprinkled with a white carpet, snowflakes gracing the glass. I could hear the kettle already boiling downstairs and smell the rich scent of cinnamon baking in the oven.

     I had always preferred Christmas Eve, what with the anticipation and the milking of the last Christmas buildup before the big day arrived. But, even saying this, there is something so very special about opening your eyes on Christmas morning. All of that excitement had led to this moment.

     y/o/n's was perched on my windowsill instead of their cage, and it made my heart swell to see the pile of newly-delivered letters stacked by their cage on my desk. I gathered them all in my hands, fishing through each one, trying to identify which ones were from who based on the handwriting.

     My heart swelled even more when the final one in the pile was no doubt, from Cedric. His handwriting was messy in a cute sort of way, each letter spaced out, but he still swished the ends.

     The two of us had been exchanging letters for the last couple of days and I would have never predicted how excited I became to receiving his replies.

     I placed the other five down and shamelessly opened his first. Instead of a letter, Cedric had posted a Christmas card ─ a golden Snitch, dressed up in a Santa hat was on the front, his words on the inside.

Dear y/n,

Merry Christmas! I do hope this gets to you in time. I can't imagine if I never truly got to wish you happy Christmas on the day itself.

I hope you have a great holiday and do please wish your family a merry Christmas from me too! Especially Will. I think I might like him more than you, you know . . .

And if I don't write again, happy new year! Here's to 1994!

See you at school :)

Ced

     I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the idea that he and I wouldn't exchange any more letters this winter break. But I suppose it wasn't long until we would be back at school, and I would be forced to sit next to him in Potions again.

      I stood the card up on my bedside table before making my way downstairs.

      Will was, as expected, drowning in a sea of wrapping paper, and so I assumed he had been up for at least a good hour.

     "See we've started without me then," I chuckled as I made my way into the living room. The tree sparkled with the first signs of morning light on this crisp December morning. My mother was walking in from the kitchen with a tray of cups of tea and warm pastries.

     "That's what you get when you sleep in," Will said, sporting a look of distaste.

      I glanced up at the clock above the wood burner to make sure I wasn't the one in the wrong. "It's only nine?" I had hardly slept in. More like he hadn't slept at all.

     "Merry Christmas, dear," my mother said as she carefully placed the tray on the coffee table before she made her way over to me and pressed a hard kiss to my cheek.

      I excused the force only because it was Christmas.

     "Merry Christmas to you both," I said, surprised to see my brother smiling up at me as I did.

     "Merry Christmas, y/n."

     "So, what did Santa get you, Will?" I asked teasing, as I took a seat by the tree, crossing my legs beneath me, beginning my search for the tags with my name on them.

     "Oh please, y/n," I heard my brother scoff. "Cut the crap. I'm eleven, not eight."

      "William. Language." My dad walked in then, just as I was beginning to wonder where he had got to. He took a seat on the sofa beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "Merry Christmas, y/n." He smiled, a rare occurrence I might add.

     "Merry Christmas, Dad."

     "These are for you, y/n." My mum must have compiled my presents together because she then passed me a pile of neatly wrapped gifts.

     The one on top was small but caught my eye because of the messy wrapping and even messier scribble on the tag.

Try not to think of me when you eat them. They're only the good ones.

From your golden boy x

     Trying to contain my smile to a minimum because I was under intense scrutiny from my parents and annoying little brother, I ripped off the paper to reveal a bag of sweets. The Honeydukes logo was spread across the top with the name Elephant on a Bicycle along the bottom. They were the same sound-producing sweets Cedric and I had shared in Hogsmeade that one snowy afternoon. I'm still unsure whether that was a date or not, but now was not the time to consider the details.

      I reread his note and chuckled at the nickname. Then I realised they were all the same shade of blue. The elephant, the blueberry flavour.

     They're only the good ones, he had said. He picked out all of the blue ones to make a perfect packet.

     "What's that, darling?" My mum's question snapped me out of my reverie as I realised, I had been smiling like an idiot, silently staring at the packet of sweets in my hands for a weirdly long amount of time.

     I shook away my smile as best I could as I put the packet to the side to try and focus on the next present on the pile. "Oh, nothing," I laughed it off. "Just an inside joke, is all."

     My mother nodded, seemingly finding my response satisfactory but the glint in her eyes told me otherwise.

     My dad then took the attention away from me as he stood up, crossed me and retrieved something long from underneath the tree. "One last thing," he said, his back to me, the strange object concealed with his body.

     When he turned around, the shape of the present revealed too much already but I still curiously took the parcel in my hands as he returned to his seat on the sofa.

     I excitedly tore at the paper and the first part revealed to me was the word Firebolt engraved in gold.

     I was speechless, my eyes wide, my hands frozen on the broomstick in my hands. "A firebolt?" I asked dumbfounded. "Are you serious? Thank you!"

      I threw my arms around my mother before then turning to my father. He could only shrug modestly, trying to hide the proud smirk that was threatening to emerge. He knew his daughter would be unstoppable on a broom like this.

     And he was certainly right.

' ੈ˚ ❃

     WITH ALMOST THE BLINK OF AN EYE, the day flew by in a whirlwind, and before long, the sun was setting, my stomach was threatening to explode, and I had my fingers intertwined with my third mug of hot chocolate.

     Will and I had spent the whole day together and, shock horror, had actually got along. Board games were played, classic Christmas films were watched, and mulled wine was chugged alongside mince pies and far too many candy canes.

     All of the family bonding meant it was dark outside by the time it occurred to me that I hadn't responded to any of my mail.

     Hoping that y/o/n would deliver them before the day ended, I hurried to my desk, pulled out my quill and ink and a fresh piece of parchment and got straight to writing Cedric back.

Cedric,

I see you accepted your nickname. It may be dreadful, but it does suit you. And thank you for the sweets, it was very kind of you. Although, I'm pretty my dad may have stolen one out of the bag without me looking earlier because he sounded like a trumpet while cutting the turkey.

So, thanks for the laughs. You seem to be quite funny after all. I stand corrected.

Merry Christmas, by the way; to you and all the Diggorys. Sorry it's a bit late, but I'll blame the day for that. And a happy new year to you too! I hope 1994 is as good as the last.

See you next week. I hope you have lost your annoying smile by then.

y/n

     It really was an annoying smile.