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'I clung to your hands so that something human might exist in the chaos'
-Hélène Cixous
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It was Christmas day, which meant that, through a joyous feast cooked by Molly Weasley, Addie was able to forget everything for a while, and immerse herself in the warm chatter and laughter across the happy dining table. At the teenager-end of the table, once the food was all eaten and the clatter of cutlery against plates died down, Addie was sat between the twins, and could hardly take a sip of her drink without feeling the need to laugh at their undying inputs and commentary in her ear to the rest of the group's—Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny's—conversation. One instance had the seven playing a muggle card game called 'Bullshit' (though, with Mrs Weasley in earshot, called 'Cheat'), and for a reason she forgot, Ron slammed his hand on the table much harder than he'd intended, knocking over his glass; spilling its contents over the tablecloth, leaving Mrs Weasley to scold him and the other six to burst into laughter—even Hermione from behind her hand.
Adeline, Hermione and Ginny, a few hours later, now sat together in the youngest Weasley's room. Surrounded by woollen blankets and pillows, Addie and Hermione, the latter with Crookshanks over her lap, sat upon mattresses on Ginny's floor that would be their beds for the holidays; hands warm as they circled mugs of hot chocolate. Ginny lay over her bed on her stomach, facing the two girls, fiddling with a yellow paper crown from dinner as she talked.
Addie had always admired Ginny's room. Like the rest of the burrow, it was warmly lit, and she had moving photographs stuck to one of her walls. Her carpet was an old design—though clean, thick and soft, and her walls were dark wooden boards; her small, though cosy room complete with warm colours and a hand-made quilt over her bed; a single window on one of the walls, its curtain drawn as the hour hand on her clock struck eleven.
Pulling her new woollen Weasley sweater closer—crimson, with a white 'A' in the centre—, Addie took a sip of her hot chocolate; studying what she could see of the patterned carpet absentmindedly.
"Well, that's enough from me about Dean," Ginny put the paper crown on her head, and, noticing Addie's eyes trained to the floor, tried bringing her into the conversation, her voice serious, though warm. "How are you, Ads?"
"Hm?" Addie looked up to her. "I'm good."
"I don't believe you." Ginny spoke, and her gaze softened as Addie averted her eyes. "Addie, we're here for you," she motioned to herself and Hermione, who nodded intently. "I know everything you're going through must be really hard. You can talk to us about it."
"And it'll stay between us three." Hermione chimed in, placing her hand over Addie's. "It never has to leave this room."
"I—" Addie spoke, looking up to the two, swallowing, fatigue pulling at her eyes. "I don't really know where to start."
