apples and scented candles • h.potter ✓

• eighteen •

It was Christmas Eve.

Corben woke up early, although Harry had told him that he would come to pick him up just before lunch. He has never celebrated Christmas before, or any festivities, for that matter. His family simply wasn't the type to make a big deal out of such mundane things.

This was probably the reason that Corben began to fuss over his clothes. He wasn't sure what people were supposed to wear for Christmas. He racked his brain and tried to recall how his house mates usually dressed up, but he had spent most of the Christmases during school at home, and thus wasn't fully aware of the traditions of the festival.

In the end, he decided that since he would be wearing a cloak anyway, it would perhaps be wiser to not waste too much time in choosing which shirt to wear - no one would see it anyway. He put on a navy blue shirt, wore a soft jumper over that, and then threw on a cloak over his shoulders. He stood in front of his mirror and brushed his hair with his fingers.

He suddenly remembered that Harry had told him to pack a bag as well, since they would be staying at the Weasleys for at most three days. He rummaged through his cupboard and found his old schoolbag. It was worn out and faded, but seemed to be functional enough. He stuffed it with a few clothes, a pair of socks and a pair of gloves. Then he took the present he had bought for Harry and slid it carefully in one corner, before covering it up neatly with a piece of cloth.

Finally, he sat down on his bed and waited for Harry to arrive.

He came precisely twenty minutes later. As soon as he opened the door and greeted him, Harry asked, "Are you ready?"

He nodded his head mutely.

"Shall we go then?"

Corben hesitated for a moment. He pulled the door wider and said, "Are we in a hurry? Could you - do you mind coming in and sitting with me for a few minutes?"

Harry seemed surprised at the request, but he nodded and entered. Corben led him towards the sofa, in which he sat down. He pulled his legs closer to him. Harry followed and sat beside him.

"What is it?" he asked. He placed a hand comfortingly over his knee.

Corben looked at him surreptitiously. Unlike the formal Ministry robes he was used to seeing Harry wear, the clothes he now had on him were brighter and more cheerful. His hair seemed messier than usual, which was saying a lot, since his hair was always messy. Corben had the sudden urge to brush his hair with his fingers.

He let a sigh escape his lips. "I just - I feel awful," he explained. "My mother is - dead -" he could hardly get the word out, "- and I haven't even cried. They didn't let me see her body, just sent a letter saying that her sentence has been delivered, and it seemed so unreal to me. Until now. Now that I am thinking about spending Christmas with you, it has suddenly dawned on me that she is actually dead. That I am an orphan. That I will no longer get any letter from her. I haven't been able to fully believe that before, but now all I can think about is that she doesn't exist anymore." He paused. "It seems unreal."

He felt Harry squeeze his knee reassuringly. "I'm sorry, Corben."

"I don't want to ruin your, and your family's holiday," he stated. "Please go without me."

Corben realised how hypocritical that must have sounded. He was, after all, fully dressed and ready to go, with his bag stuffed beside him. But the more time passed, the more he felt like staying at home.

Harry scooted closer to him and gripped his wrist. "You won't be ruining anything. Corben, I think it will be good for you to be around people - I cannot let you be alone in this state. If you don't feel good, you can just go upstairs and stay in an empty room; you do not have to join in the festivities if you don't want to. I just think that Christmas is a time for families, and I don't want you to be sad in a day like this."