ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ

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(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ xᴍᴀs (ᴡᴀʀ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ) )

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(ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ sᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ xᴍᴀs (ᴡᴀʀ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ) )

There was no tree or spelled lights to spark on command according to the rhythm of a Christmas song. No freshly baked cookies or wrapped presents and ornaments strung from banisters.

The manor was completely and utterly bare of all things that represent family and joy. It was depressing, actually, with the muted colors and eery silentness that evaded the home. The only common thing that related to every other Christmas was the endless falling of snow outside the glass-stained windows.

Aven cupped her cheek and drew her knees to her chest as she leant against the window-seat, peering out at mound after mound of frigid cold and white pillows that blanketed the grounds.

An unopened envelope was gripped between her fingers, addressed to her from Draco Malfoy. The paper crinkled as she moved, and if she strained her hears, she could imagine it being the jingle of bells.

The overly-large sweater that fell from her neck to her knees provided as a comfortable outfit for the day, and she was happy to be out of the constricting Slytherin robes that she otherwise had to wear at Hogwarts. The past four days back home had been beyond uneventful; she'd failed to visit her father since their argument, she lived off a supply of stale cereal and packaged candy, and she slept in until the afternoon and remained awake until dawn.

And she talked to no one. No mail had come for her before now, no visits had occurred, no house-elf appeared, nor did Narcissa Malfoy. And while Aven wasn't particularly fond of the women, at least when she was there, Aven wasn't completely alone.

And now it was so silent that the lack of noise screamed at her. It drowned her and burned her and ate away at her.

She put a tiny nick in her finger as she tore open the envelope. A thin line of red bubbled towards the surface and Aven stared at the color until it formed a drop and drained down the length of her finger, staining the creased letter like paint.

Potter is suspicious. Intervened Slug Club meeting and got thrown out. Think he listened to Snape and I's conversation. No progress. How is my mother?

-D. M.

Aven rolled her eyes at Draco's obvious idiotic actions that were bound to fuck them both in the long run. She sighed, reaching towards her desk to grab a quill.

Your mother is demanding. Do not do anything else fucking stupid to make yourself look any worse than you already do. Visitor arriving tonight- if I don't return to Hogwarts then good luck repairing the cabinet by yourself, dickhead.

A. S.

She deemed her response good enough, placing her writing utensil to the side. Stretching as she stood, she grabbed an unused envelope and slid it in. Knocking on the window twice, she unlatched it and pushed it open, a gust of cold hair brushing her face and pinking her nose.

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