[Chapter Fifteen: A Hoggy Warty Christmas. Edited.]

Yelling woke me from my sleep. I sat up, panicked, not knowing where I was, where the shouting was coming from. It took me a few moments before I realised I was at Hogwarts.

The memories of last night came thundering into my head, unwelcomed, but with no sign of ever leaving. I shuddered as I relived the green light episode again. Each time, I'd remember something else, like the frown upon my Father's face, where I'd assumed a smile had lain.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS, BITCH!"

"FUCKING ACE, MATE!"

"I AM ACE, MATE!"

It's just girls downstairs, Willow. Relax.

I put on the dressing gown and slippers, which Dumbledore had bought me, and the smile that would get me through the day.

As I came to leave, I saw an owl waiting outside the window. I leant over and opened it. The owl dropped a parcel on my bed and perched there. It was a Hogwarts owl. With hesitant fingers, I opened the parcel. A note was enclosed.

Willow,

I don't know where you are, or if my seeing you was a hallucination, but I have enclosed some money for you to help start your new life.

Draco.

P.S. If you still hang around with Potter, Granger and Weasley, which I know you will, I'm still going to be a total arse to you at school.

He had sent me thirty Gallons, twelve Sickles, and a Knut. It was more money that I had ever seen, let alone owned. I hid it at the bottom of my trunk, underneath a pair of shoes I hadn't used yet. While I was putting it there, I found a leaflet for a shop in 'Knockturn Alley', wherever that was.

Bloodroot potion- 1 galleon 1 sickle- available now.

I quickly gathered up my money and sent back the form to Knockturn Alley, with a note saying to mail it back to me directly.

I began the trek down the winding staircase, hearing excited chatter inside a few of the rooms on the way down. On the bottom floor, Annabeth and a friend of hers had changed their hair colours to bright pink.

"Merry Christmas Willow!" Annabeth cheered. Her voice was weirdly high-pitched. "You should have helium. It's weird muggle stuff." She sucked some air out of a rubber bag thing. "It makes your voice go crazy."

"What is that thing?" I asked.

"It's called a balloon." Her friend said, nodding. "Pure-bloods are always so mesmerised by muggle-borns."

"I'm mesmerised by you anyway." Annabeth winked.

"That's true."

The pair exchanged a long, meaningful look and I seized my opportunity to exit.

"Oh, Willow," Annabeth said as I opened the door to the common room. Her brow was furrowed a little. "I thought you were going home for the holidays. That's what McGonagall told me, anyway."

"There must have been a mix-up," I shrugged, turned, and walked out the door. I'd never lied so fluently before.

I took a seat by the fire in the common room, and relished in the silence. It was, however, short lived.

"Willow!" It was George Weasley, who was wearing a woollen knitted jumper with the letter 'G' on it. He was clutching one side of his older brother Percy, who was wearing the same jumper with a 'P' rather than 'G'. Fred was on the other side of Percy, also wearing a jumper. "I thought you went home!"

"I did, but I'm back." At that moment, Harry and Ron descended the stairs, also wearing knitted jumpers.

"Why'd you come back?"

"Christmas time is for friends," I forced a smile. I wasn't sure how long I could keep the act up. "I met your dad, too, though." I said trying to change the topic.

"My dad?" said Ron stupidly. Harry and I exchanged looks, while Fred and George exchanged a look. It was a very look-exchanging time. Harry's face read as 'is he for real?'

"No Ron, she met my dad" said Harry exasperatedly.

"What? Did you like...die." he whispered the last word. I felt a jolt in my stomach.

"You're a tactless idiot, Ron," Percy threw him a dark look, but Ron shrugged.

Fred smiled, "We all knew that, though."

At that exact point Ron's stomach growled, loud enough for all of us to hear.

"Breakfast?" Harry suggested. We headed downstairs in our pyjamas and the boys in their Weasley Jumpers. They told me that their mum made them a knitted jumper every year for part of their Christmas present.

"— she cooks, too. She made us these fantastic fruit mince pies —"

George cut Fred off, "— Seriously, you haven't really eaten until you've had Mum's food."

"You should come over in the summer, Will," Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Mum'd love to have you."

I wanted to focus on the positives, but all I could think was that I actually had no where to go over the holidays. They wouldn't let me stay at Hogwarts, would they?

Breakfast was fun, but lunch was about eighty times better. We mucked around and laughed about ten times more. I'm sure the crazy amount of sugar we had eaten didn't help us. I turned away from the conversation and peered over at the teachers table. Dumbledore was watching me. Creepy. I smiled at him and he smiled back.

Despite trying to be happy, I felt rotten to the core. There was a void I couldn't fill. Like I was a glass almost full of water, but not quite. There was something off about me, and I didn't know how to fix it. Not all of my smiles and laughs were forced, but despite the moments of happiness, the sadness was still there. Waiting.

"What do you think Willow?" I turned back to the others with no idea what they were discussing.

"Pumpkin."

"Oh damn, I thought you weren't listening!" complained Ron.

What the hell are they talking about?

"I like tomato the best." Harry said and they continued a conversation about soups.

We headed back to the common room and Harry and Ron played chess. Ron attempted to teach me, but he gave up because I couldn't figure out which square was which. I kept thinking 'E6' was 'G6' and he got really irritated. I then spent my time watching them play and eating fizzing whizzbees (which were part of Harry's presents, but he shared them with me, because he's really nice). I floated when I ate them which was rather enjoyable.

"If you eat another whizzbee and float, I will kill you." Ron argued.

"Fine. I'm going to go for a walk. Anyone want to come?" There was no reply so I went by myself.

Maybe they didn't come because they don't like you.

Maybe they don't like you because you're fat.

You're fat because you eat too much.

You should stop eating.

I wandered around for five minutes, or maybe an hour. My concept of time was all but gone. My brain was preoccupied with more important things than time or where I was going – it was focusing on every negative in my life, dragging me down further into misery.

There were voices drifting up the hallway –

"I do not understand ... what is it you are after?"

"It is plain. You are an imbecile."

They were drawing closer, so I slipped into the first room I could, planning on waiting for the voices to pass. It was when I turned away from the door and soaked in the rest of the room that I was struck by profound curiosity.

It appeared to be a disused classroom, with desks and chairs pushed back against the walls, but they weren't what I found interesting. It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

I edged closer until I was right in front of it. I stifled a scream. There was a man behind me. I span on the spot, but there was no one there. The mirror showed things that weren't real. It wanted you to hallucinate. It wanted you to think you were crazy.

Staring back at the mirror, focusing on the man, I realised that it was my father. He was playing with my hair. I knew he meant it to say it was beautiful. It was the opposite of my real life, where he called it nauseating.

I swallowed back bile and shut my eyes. I did not want to see my father. He would never love me. It was pointless to dream. Love was pointless. I would never know love. I would never know home.

Fighting off tears, a skill I was becoming better at, I opened my eyes. I was standing alone in the room, gazing at my own miserable reflection. To save myself from looking at my face, I focussed on the engraving, repeating the words in my head again and again until I finally found the meaning: I show not your face, but your heart's desire.

"Severus, it will be fine, that's why we are setting up the different tasks –—"

"Headmaster, there are some things we cannot control."

"Severus, is there something you would like to tell me?"

The door opened behind me and Professors Dumbledore and Snape entered, looking grim. Snape froze the moment he saw me. Dumbledore, however, didn't look altogether that surprised.

"Hello again, Miss Malfoy."

"Don't call me that. Sir," I added, realising my harshness.

"Call you what?" Professor Dumbledore asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Malfoy."

"Then what can I call you?"

"Anything." I swallowed back more bile. I would've rather be anywhere else in the world, than in the room with Snape and Dumbledore. There was a long pause. Snape hadn't taken his eyes off me, but I refused to make eye contact. I felt volatile, unlike myself. I wasn't sure what I would do next.

"I see you have discovered the mirror of Erised. I trust you know what it does?"

I did, however, make eye contact with Dumbledore, "I show not your face, but your heart's desire."

"Yes, it does show your heart's desire. May I ask, Willow, what is it that you see?"

"I see myself."

This answer didn't shock Dumbledore, "How do you see yourself?"

"Exactly as I am."

Snape and Dumbledore exchanged meaningful eye-contact.

"You don't see yourself grown, or with others, or overjoyed?" Snape suggested, and I finally met his eye.

"I see me, now."

"You don't wish for anything, then?" Snape gave me a look that I couldn't identify. He was envious, or angry, or pitiful. I had no idea, but it was more intense than any look he had given me yet.

"What's the point?" My voice broke, preventing me from going on. Not that I cared whether or not I did. Whatever I had to say wasn't worth a whole lot anyway.

Silence filled the air. There was nothing more to be said. I chanced a look back in the mirror, and saw, once again, my own sallow face. My skin was waxy, pulled quite taught over my skull, leaving my green eyes to shine out their despair in every direction. My hair was knottier than ever – I had all but given up on trying to groom it. I hadn't showered since before I had left Hogwarts for Christmas.

Beneath my shirt, I knew my ribs poked out, my skin was bruised and scarred. My legs were thin and my arms were thinner. I was emaciated but there was no force which could drive me to change my ways. I figured the only way to destroy the monsters in my head was to starve them, so starve them I did.

"Are you quite alright, Willow?" Dumbledore asked. His voice was closer than I anticipated. He was right behind me. I'd been too focused with my own reflection to even see him approaching. Self-obsession was a one-way ticket to punishment city.

Except my father couldn't punish me anymore.

I was on my own, like my reflection. A reflection, I remembered, that Dumbledore can't see. I burst into a smile, being careful to only look at the mirror, to not meet his eye. I was more or less staring into space.

"What is it?" Professor Dumbledore asked, looking torn between concern and happiness.

"It – it just changed. My reflection, I mean."

His eyebrows travelled up his forehead in surprise, "What do you see now?"

"Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley boys. We all just look... we look ... happy." I released the tears then, much fewer than really wanted to fall, but enough for Dumbledore to place his hand on my shoulder and give it a squeeze. "I think I can do it, you know. Make it a reality."

"I believe in you," Professor Dumbledore said. We made eye-contact via the mirror and I gave him a teary, hopeful smile. "Your friends will be waiting for you, Willow. I suggest you get back before curfew."

"Have a good night, sir. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Willow."

I crossed the room to the door, pausing to say bye to Snape on the way. The moment I was out of the room, my demeanour went back to normal. I wiped the tears from my face, holding back the ones which really wanted to spill and wondering when I discovered how to lie.

In the common room, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were sitting in front of the fireplace, throwing paper into it. Upon my arrival, the four of them looked up and cheered.

"Where've you been?" Harry asked.

"I went for a walk."

"You were gone for three hours."

"Oh."

"We were hoping you'd gone to find the kitchens," George said quietly.

Like the parting of the Red Sea, the boys shuffled to either side, leaving me a space in the middle.

"Come on down, Willow," Fred smiled, patting the space between him and Harry. "Take a seat."

"I'm actually really tired. I might call it a night."

For a fleeting moment, I thought their faces were disappointed, but I must have imagined it. No one wanted to spend time with me anyway, they were just very polite.

As I trekked up the winding staircase to my room, I wished that my father could have just killed me correctly. It would have saved a lot of grief.