╰┈➤ ❝[𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝟙𝟚]❞࿐ ˊˎ-
˚.⃗.[ᴄᴏᴄᴏᴀ,ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇs,&ᴄʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs ᴄʜᴇᴇʀ]𑁍ࠜೄˊˎ
﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The Great Hall
( December, 1993. )

                              𝓣he Great Hall was aglow with warm candlelight, the enchanted ceiling reflecting a peaceful winter sky, dusted with the soft glow of stars. Towering Christmas trees lined the walls, twinkling with golden baubles and shimmering fairy lights, filling the space with the comforting scent of pine. Snowflakes drifted lazily down from the enchanted ceiling, dissolving into nothing before they reached the students below. The air buzzed with quiet laughter and the occasional burst of holiday cheer as students gathered in small groups, enjoying the festive atmosphere before the holiday break.

At one of the long tables near the center of the hall, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Esme sat together, mugs of steaming hot chocolate in hand. A plate of assorted holiday sweets sat between them-peppermint humbugs, treacle tarts, and chocolate frogs waiting to be unwrapped. The warmth of the hall and the easy chatter between them made everything feel lighter, as if, for a little while, the troubles of the past weeks were far away.

Ron, already halfway through his second treacle tart, leaned back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. "This," he said, gesturing vaguely at the festive surroundings, "is exactly what I needed before going home and listening to Percy lecture about the 'importance of being a model Prefect' for the entire holiday."

Hermione smirked, stirring her hot chocolate with a cinnamon stick. "You mean before you stuff yourself with Christmas dinner at home and ignore everything Percy says?"

Ron grinned. "Exactly."

Esme offered a small smile at the conversation, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She traced the rim of her mug with her finger, staring down at the swirling hot chocolate as steam curled into the air. She loved Christmas, she really did-but the idea of spending it at Malfoy Manor left a strange, hollow feeling in her chest.

Her family was everything to her, and she knew they loved her in their own way. But that house... it was always cold, in more ways than one. The warmth she felt here, in the Great Hall with her friends, surrounded by laughter and the glow of candlelight, would not follow her home. The Manor was grand and elegant, but it lacked the cozy chaos of a Weasley Christmas for Ron, the casual comfort Harry, Ron, and Hermione had in Gryffindor Tower, or even the quiet safety of Hogwarts itself.

She could already picture the perfectly decorated halls, the pristine Christmas feast laid out like something from a painting-beautiful yes, but not an ounce of personality to the meals. No family recipes passed down from one generation to the next-food cooked not even by them, but by servants. No silly paper crowns from Christmas crackers, no off-key caroling, no flour fights in the kitchen while baking gingerbread. Just stiff formalities, polite conversation, and the ever-present weight of expectations pressing down on her shoulders.

Esme let out a quiet breath and forced a smile, glancing up at her friends. "Sounds nice," she said softly, trying to sound lighthearted. "A big, warm Christmas dinner with family."

Ron, mid-bite of another treacle tart, nodded enthusiastically. "The best part is the food. Mum goes all out-turkey, roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, mince pies, you name it. You should come to the Burrow for Christmas one year, Esme."

Hermione gave Ron a surprised look, but Esme only laughed softly. "I'd like that," she admitted. "It sounds... nice."

Harry, who had been watching her closely, nudged her arm lightly. "What about you? Any Christmas traditions?"

Esme hesitated for a second before shrugging. "Oh, you know. The usual," she said vaguely. "Big dinner, decorations... very formal."

Ron tilted his head. "That doesn't sound very fun."

Esme smiled, but there was a wistfulness to it. "It's... different."

Harry didn't press, but something in his gaze told her he understood more than he let on. After all, Christmas with the Dursleys hadn't exactly been full of warmth and joy for him either.

Ron, oblivious to the shift in mood, reached for another sweet. "Well, if you ever get sick of all that formality, you're always welcome at the Burrow. Mum would love to have you."

Esme's smile turned more genuine at that. "Thanks, Ron."

She wrapped her hands around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her fingers. The Great Hall, with all its glowing decorations and lively chatter, felt more like home than the place she was about to return to. But for now, she was here-with them. And that was enough.

The cheerful hum of the Great Hall didn't falter as the Slytherins strode inside, their laughter blending with the festive chatter of other students. Blaise must have said something particularly amusing, because the group erupted into a chorus of grins and chuckles, their ease with each other evident.

Esme, who had been absently stirring the last of her hot chocolate, barely noticed at first-until her gaze landed on Draco.

His smile fell the second he saw her. The light in his storm-grey eyes dimmed, his usual effortless confidence giving way to something more uncertain. He didn't glare, didn't sneer. Instead, his gaze darted away from hers entirely, like he couldn't bear to hold it.

The others-Pansy, Theo, Daphne, the rest of them-carried on as if she weren't there, as if they had simply forgotten about her presence altogether.

Esme swallowed, her fingers tightening around her mug. It had been weeks since she and Draco had last spoken. Weeks since she had turned away from him in the library when he tried to talk to her, ignoring the quiet urgency in his voice. She could still see the way his expression had flickered-confused, then frustrated, then carefully blank.

And now... they were about to spend an entire train ride home together. An entire week at the Manor.

What would that even be like?

Hermione's voice cut into her thoughts.

"You haven't spoken in weeks, have you?"

Esme blinked. "Hm?"

"To Malfoy," Hermione clarified, studying her carefully. "I noticed you ignoring him a few weeks ago. In the library. He tried talking to you."

Esme stiffened.

Harry, ever perceptive, shot Hermione a look. "Hermione, it's none of our business."

Ron scoffed. "Sure it is. We're friends, aren't we? If Esme can sit through our hour-long rants about what's going on in our lives, shouldn't we be there for her?"

Hermione sighed. "For once, I agree with Ron."

Ron perked up. "Thanks?"

Harry smirked. "That wasn't really a compliment."

Hermione, already turning back to Esme, shrugged. "No, it wasn't."

Ron frowned. "Still, my point is valid." He turned to Esme with an earnest expression. "If you need to talk, you should know we actually care. Right, Esme?"

Esme hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table.

The warmth of their concern pressed in on her, unfamiliar yet comforting. For years, her problems had been hers alone to carry. Even in Slytherin, even among her own family, she had never truly felt like she could share the weight of them. That was just how things were. How they had always been.

But here, with them, it was different.

The warmth of their concern wrapped around Esme, a comforting, unfamiliar weight. She'd spent years carrying her troubles alone, locked within her own walls. Even in Slytherin, even in her family, she'd never felt like she could share the burden. But here, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, something was different. It was... lighter. Like she could breathe.

She took a deep breath, her hands tightening around her mug. Her smile was soft, but real. "...I-I know you care..."

And, in a way, it meant more than words could say. But she still wasn't sure if she was ready to talk yet.

Ron, ever the one to push things forward, clapped his hands together eagerly. "Well, no need to talk about it if you don't wanna. I'm just happy we're all here. Now, let's get to the fun part!"

Harry nodded, giving her a reassuring look. "But if you ever do want to talk, we're here." His voice was quiet but steady, like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

Esme smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment. "I know."

Ron grinned, clearly ready to move on. "Right, then! I say we open gifts now!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she smiled at his enthusiasm. "Of course you say that," she teased, but her eyes were warm, and the flicker of excitement in her gaze matched Ron's.

The group laughed softly, the tension in the air easing as the holiday cheer crept back into the space.

Hermione was the first to pull out her gifts, neatly wrapped in festive paper. She handed them around with a small flourish, her eyes gleaming with the joy of giving.

"To you, Esme," Hermione said as she handed over a carefully wrapped package. "An extended copy of Care for Magical Creatures-it's got everything, including all the rare magical creatures I thought you might like."

Esme's eyes sparkled as she took the gift, her fingers brushing over the soft wrapping paper. "Thank you, Hermione! I've been wanting this for ages," she said, her voice warm.

Next, Hermione handed a much smaller gift to Ron, who raised an eyebrow at the size but didn't say anything. "For you, a chess guide. Thought it might be useful-it's got tips for all skill levels."

Ron grinned, his eyes lighting up with appreciation. "Brilliant! Thanks, Hermione. I'll be putting this to good use-starting with Harry here." He shot a playful look at Harry, who pretended to roll his eyes.

Lastly, Hermione handed Harry a slender book, the cover decorated with an intricate design. "And for you, a quidditch guide. It's got all sorts of advanced techniques. I figured you'd like something to help with your game."

Harry beamed at her. "Thanks, Hermione! This'll definitely come in handy next season."

Ron, ever the one for a more... rustic presentation, pulled out his gifts wrapped in brown parchment-imperfect, but with all the care in the world evident in the crumpled corners. He handed each gift with a grin.

"To you, Harry," Ron said, passing over the first gift. "A Gryffindor scarf. Mum knitted it herself."

Harry's eyes softened at the gesture. "It's perfect, Ron. Tell her thanks for me, will you?"

Ron nodded, pleased with the response, then handed Hermione a slightly smaller gift. "For you, a pink and blue beanie. Again, Mum made it, and I thought it'd suit you."

Hermione's face lit up. "It's adorable, Ron! Tell her thank you as well."

Ron then handed Esme a pale green sweater, the soft fabric inviting warmth. "And for you, Esme. It may be a bit too big, Mum always insists on making it a little big so you can wear it for longer before you grow out of it."

Esme's heart swelled. The kindness was unexpected, and it caught her off guard. "Your mum made this for me? She doesn't even know me."

Ron shifted a little, slightly embarrassed. "I wrote to her about you-told her about how kind and smart you are. She was happy to do it."

Esme's throat tightened, unused to such a sentimental gift, she managed a soft genuine smile, biting back tears. "Tell her thank you. It's really thoughtful of her."

Then, it was Esme's turn. She handed out her gifts with a quiet smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves.

To Ron, she gave a beautifully crafted magical chess set-elegant and detailed, the kind of thing Ron would love. "Here," she said. "I thought you might enjoy a new set to match your skill level."

Ron's eyes widened. "Whoa! This is... this is amazing, Esme. Thanks!"

To Hermione, Esme handed over a neat little box with elegant quills and ink. "I know you're always writing, so I thought you might like something a little nicer."

Hermione smiled warmly. "Esme, these are gorgeous! Thank you so much."

Finally, Esme handed Harry a pair of high-quality leather quidditch gloves, their surface sleek and polished. "I thought you might appreciate these-better grip for your next match," she said softly.

Harry's eyes lit up as he held them. "These are fantastic, Esme! Thank you."

Harry's gifts came last. He handed Ron a wrapped box with a mischievous grin. "For you, mate-a little something from Zonko's. An ever-bashing boomerang. Thought you could use it to get back at the twins when they prank you over the holiday."

Ron burst out laughing. "Wicked! I'll definitely put it to use."

To Hermione, Harry handed over a large tome, the cover decorated with intricate symbols. "For you, Hermione-a book on ancient runes from Flourish and Blotts. It's rare, and I thought it might be useful for your studies."

Hermione's eyes sparkled. "Harry, this is incredible! Thank you!"

Finally, Harry's gaze softened as he pulled out a small box, with holes carefully cut into the top. Esme raised an eyebrow, curiosity flaring up. "Harry... is there something alive in that?"

Harry grinned widely, his eyes shining with excitement. "I thought you could use a little company. Open it."

Esme carefully opened the box, her breath catching as she peered inside. A tiny Bowtruckle peeked out at her, its beady eyes blinking in the dim light of the hall. It was a small, twig-like creature with greenish-brown skin that blended seamlessly with the trees it protected. Esme gasped softly, her fingers trembling as she reached out to gently stroke the creature's tiny head.

"It's... It's perfect," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "Where did you find it?"

Harry's grin widened. "Hagrid found him, said he can't go back to the wild because he has a messed up arm. He asked me to keep him, but I figured you'd be a better bowtruckle mum than I could ever be."

Esme's heart swelled. She held the tiny Bowtruckle carefully, a radiant smile spreading across her face. "Thank you, Harry. He's beautiful."

Harry smiled warmly at Esme, his eyes softening as he watched her cradling the Bowtruckle with such tenderness. "I'm glad you like him," he said, his voice quiet, but filled with sincerity. "I thought you could use someone special to keep you company."

Esme's fingers gently stroked the little creature's delicate branches, her smile wide and genuine. "I'll have to come up with a name for him," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. The warmth of the gift, of the thought behind it, wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. She had never expected something like this from Harry-something so personal, so thoughtful. It meant more than she could put into words.

Ron chuckled, breaking the moment of quiet joy. "Well, looks like Esme's got a new friend. I think that little guy's gonna have a lot of fun with you."

Hermione laughed softly, her voice gentle. "Just make sure you don't let him loose around the castle, Esme. I'm sure he could cause a lot of trouble with those tiny branches of his. He looks mischievous don't you think?"

"Oh he's definitely trouble," Esme giggled, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't cause any chaos." She glanced up at Harry, her expression soft but grateful. "Really, Harry. This means more than you know."

Harry just smiled back, a quiet understanding passing between them. "I'm happy he'll be with you."

There was a comfortable silence between the group for a moment, each of them lost in their own thoughts, the simple joy of being together hanging in the air like the scent of cinnamon and pine. The Great Hall continued to buzz with the sounds of other students laughing and exchanging gifts, the soft hum of holiday cheer filling the space.

After a beat, Ron slapped his hands on the table, eager to keep the mood light. "Alright, now that we've all exchanged gifts, what's next? I say we stuff our faces with more chocolate frogs and treacle tarts, and then maybe do something really fun, like see who can throw a snowball the farthest."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her fondness for Ron's enthusiasm. "I think you're the only one who thinks that sounds like fun, Ron."

"Hey, I'm just trying to make the most of the holiday," Ron shot back, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry laughed, looking between his friends. "Alright, well, if you really want to throw snowballs, I'm game. But maybe after we've had a few more rounds of hot chocolate. I'm starting to think there's not enough sugar in the world to fuel Ron's excitement."

Ron raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Not enough sugar? I don't know what you're talking about, mate. I'm perfectly well-behaved."

"Right," Hermione said, deadpan. "The same Ron Weasley who tried to throw a snowball at Malfoy last year and nearly knocked over half the decorations in the courtyard?"

Ron's cheeks flushed a little, but he grinned, unrepentant. "Well, maybe I got a bit carried away... but I was aiming for his face. And I'd say I was successful, technically."

Esme laughed, the sound light and carefree. It felt good, being here with them, laughing with them. The worries of the past few weeks seemed to drift away, replaced by the warmth of friendship, the easy bond they shared. She looked at each of her friends-Harry, Ron, and Hermione-and felt a sense of belonging that she hadn't realized she'd been missing. For the first time in ages, it felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

"Alright," Esme said, a playful glint in her eyes. "But I warn you, I'm a snowball expert."

Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "Oh, I'm shaking in my boots, Esme. You're on."

They all stood up, laughter still bubbling in the air as they made their way out of the Great Hall, ready for a day of fun and mischief-together. And Esme allowed herself to be fully present, to embrace the holiday spirit, surrounded by the warmth of friends who cared.