Archive of Our Own

『Act I』

It's been a while since the last large-scale owl delivery from Hogwarts... well, not that long, new children arrive every year, right? Since Voldemort was defeated, the scar on Harry Potter’s forehead hasn’t hurt for three years. But on this ordinary weekend close to Christmas—when businesses on the street are quietly hinting at the Christmas spirit, and every passerby’s face wore a secret, drunken-like contentment: Ladies and gentlemen, Christmas is just around the corner, stars, lovers, mulled wine, and angels, that kind of world, Christmas—on this weekend, Harry Potter had a splitting headache. If he didn’t know the reason, he would definitely have suspected that Voldemort had made another comeback.

Ron buried his head in a huge scarf but his eyes darted around: “Did you notice? The Christmas celebrations have been getting earlier and earlier these past few years. This is just early December. If this continues, won’t it be another few decades before Christmas ever ends, and the whole year will feel like one giant Christmas loop…?”

“She always has her own ideas, always! She should at least consider my feelings. She is not the only one who can have the final say in our relationship!”

“Harry, are you even listening to me?”

“Of course not.” Harry was practically radiating anger, walking with such intensity that he didn’t even feel the cold. His entire face, including the scar on his forehead, was glaringly visible, causing quite a few pedestrians to gasp. “Hermione is always like this, you know her, she’s always like this!”

—and Hermione Granger, a few streets away, was almost just as fiery in her tone and anger. Draco Malfoy, who was beside her, had long been unable to interject. Hermione’s sharp voice drifted from the street corner to the end of the block: “He always blows his own feelings way out of proportion! You know Harry. It’s not like some feelings are that important... This is for the kids!”

Harry's voice rose an entire octave: "I can't be sacrificed for the sake of the kids! I mean, it's like sex...”

On the other side, Hermione said: "It's like sex!"

Harry held up a finger to emphasize to Ron: "I'm not without empathy, But as the dominant person, she need to consider the other person's feelings!"

And Hermione also raised her voice to fill Draco's ears: "He can't be so lacking in sympathy, you always needs to make some contributions, for team!"

Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks as he passed a newsstand: "Ron, you agree with me, right? She went too far this time." Ron reluctantly slowed his pace, looked at the Veela cheerleading poster on the glass window of the newsstand next to him and felt inexplicably uncomfortable, unsure whether to stand still or keep walking, twitching in place. "Harry, I do agree with you, but I don't want to talk about sex with you..."

Harry stamped his foot in frustration: "That's not the point!"

On the other side, Hermione finally gave Draco Malfoy a chance to speak: "Draco, you agree with me, right? Harry should know when to back down." Draco wasn't as awkward as Ron; perhaps because they were near a jewelry store, he even took a keen interest in admiring the emerald brooch with tiny wings fluttering around in the display window. "Although I have no interest in your sexual patterns... I mostly agree with you, Potter has no say in this matter."

Hermione rubbed her face vigorously: "I should have a proper talk with him. If it doesn't work out, then we'll just have to call it off and find someone else."

Walking up to the bar, Harry was still muttering as he opened the door, "I think she won't choose to break up with me, after all, who else can she find as suitable as me?"

Ron rolled his eyes slightly, "I think so, but don't be too forceful when you see her. You know Hermione's temper."

Harry retorted, "What about my temper?"

Ron patted his shoulder and gave him a "stop messing around" smile, then turned to find the reserved seat, giving him a silent yet powerful moment for reflection.

They had just sat down for two minutes when Hermione and Draco appeared at the entrance of the bar, causing a wave of turned heads to gaze their way. Hermione was used to being stared at, but this time she received more attention than usual, likely because Malfoy was accompanying her—such a pairing was still novel to people. She had no mood to smile and greet, instead striding briskly toward Harry and Ron's booth, her glove slapping loudly onto the table as she glared fiercely at Harry.

Harry glared back at her, his green eyes unusually bright with emotion.

Draco clearly anticipated this scene, giving Ron a casual nod as a greeting before sitting down in the seat. The two of them watched Hermione and Harry glare at each other, as if engaged in a staring contest without blinking.

An eerie silence surrounded the table.

Soon, as expected, Ron was the first to voluntarily withdraw from the endurance race: "Dear, I know you're angry, but can we get something to drink first? I'm so thirsty."

Finally, Hermione turned her head abruptly, as if she wanted to pierce him with her gaze, but reluctantly kissed him and gestured to the waiter.

—Yes, this weekend, as Christmas is approaching, a few good friends (at least three of them are) met at a bar for a thorny issue that needed to be solved urgently.

"You can't use kids as an excuse for everything!"

“It’s not an excuse, it’s called kindness!” Hermione exclaimed, “As Christmas approaches, Harry Potter, the hero of the magical world, is giving Christmas gifts to poor children in need. What’s wrong with that? Didn’t you wish for a generous Santa Claus to descend from the sky when you were a child?”

Harry rubbed his temples hard. He had indeed thought about his childhood Christmas at his aunt’s house, when Santa Claus hardly visited—fair enough, he hadn’t left out a sock for Santa to put gifts in either, he didn’t have one. The most generous Christmas gift he’d ever received was a shrunken shirt that Dudley couldn’t wear, and it was considered generous because the shirt still looked new and had shrunken to his exact size. Of course, he couldn’t possibly disagree with giving children a wonderful Christmas.

“But this shouldn’t be done in the name of the M.O.M, and it certainly shouldn’t be heavily publicized! Most importantly, giving gifts to muggle families is simply too much!”

Draco spoke up: “Granger, giving gifts to muggle children is a bit much. Do you know how many muggle children in Britain need help?”

“I’m not saying to send to every...”

“Pick out some muggle children and vote on which one ‘deserves a gift for being the most miserable’?” Draco leaned back slowly in his chair, “That sounds a bit inhumane, Granger.”

Hermione retorted irritably, “Thanks for the reminder, former Death Eater”

Draco’s pale face flushed slightly. Although it was a sensitive topic, Granger never used past incidents to insult people, so he could make it a casual joke.Just consider it as desensitization therapy. “Besides, Potter is only one person. Even if he uses the Portkey, the Gatekeeper, Apparition, and the Firebolt, there are enough children in the wizarding world needing help to keep him busy.”

“Hey!” Hermione elbowed him. “What side are you on? It’s time to defend the work, Morris.”

Draco asked sincerely, “Who is Morris?”

Harry blushed, cleared his throat, “What Draco said is practical considerations, the workload is too heavy, and how much budget does our department need? Will the Minister approve?” Saying this, he elbowed Ron. Ron finally pulled his head out of his beer mug and whispered in his ear, “I’m just here to cheer you on, actually. When facing Hermione I’m useless than nothing.”

Harry angrily snatched his beer mug and drank it all. “Hermione, you really need…”

“Alright.” Hermione made a decisive cutting gesture in the air, skillfully interrupting Harry. "As you said, not giving gifts to muggle children.This does involve the content of the confidentiality law, it's complicated... So since it's limited to our wizarding world, it is reasonable and normal to advertise in Daily Prophet."

Harry was about to slam the table: "It's not! This thing turning into official promotion changes the whole thing, it's not about love or kindness at all, it's about..." he trailed off at the end, drawing out the words.

Hermione crossed her arms (which often meant things were going to be very difficult) "What? Go on. Say it plainly. 'About your personal political gain, Hermione,' that's what you want to say, isn't it?"

"I'm not accusing you..."

Hermione gritted her teeth and said, "Harry, we've been working at M.O.M for over a year now. You must understand that if something can help the Ministry, it's not a bad thing. That's called a win-win situation."

Harry clearly disagreed and muttered softly, "You sound like Percy now."

Draco chimed in at the right moment, "Harry, this really can help the children while also providing positive publicity for the Ministry. It can give the wizarding world confidence and stability, bringing greater benefits..."

Ron snorted, "Worse, you sound like Grindelwald now."

Hermione couldn't stand it anymore and slammed the table, standing up. She took a deep breath and said, "I'll give you some time to think about whether it's worth sacrificing a perfect Christmas for the 'pure purpose' you hold dear, to protect it. We can talk when you've calmed down. Let's go, Draco."

Ron straightened up. "Honey, are you coming home for dinner tonight?"

Hermione was still angry but her tone had softened. “Of course. Oh, and don't forget to tell Molly, we won't be eating at the Burrow for Christmas; we need to attend the Hogwarts banquet. If you don't tell her now, there might be a dragon-sized pile of food waiting for us in the Burrow in two days, burying us all.” Hermione gave him a light kiss and left the bar with Draco.

Mrs. Granger's weekend overtime was voluntary and regular; going to the Ministry on weekends was normal. Draco, as her permanent secretary, didn't often accompany her on overtime, but going with her to the Ministry today was necessary because in this rare moment when their fronts were united, giving his director some superficial support was necessary.

"Draco... or should I call you Mr. Malfoy now?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, "Not yet at the department, you can call me whatever you want."

"How long have we been working together?"

"One year, two months, and... eight days."

Hermione sniffled in the cold street, "Okay. Harry and I entered department at the same time"

Draco frowned, "Yes..."

Hermione turned her head, "So when do you plan to resolve your sexual tension with Harry?"

Draco was suddenly choked by his own spit and coughed violently. "What?"

Hermione stood still, sighing with a drawn-out voice: "Everyone—anyone with eyes can see that you like him. If it were up to me, this feeling should have started before he even entered M.O.M, but that’s not the point."

Draco finally caught his breath: "Everyone knows?"

"I suppose... I’m not sure if Tim the tea boy and Mrs. Waltz the cleaner know, and as for the rest, well, that basically means everyone."

"Potter, he knows too?"

Hermione thought for a moment: "I suppose so. I think he might also like you, but that's not the point. The point is that the both of you being so hesitant and dragging makes my work very difficult. Every time there's a meeting at the office, it's hard to follow up on what you two say!" Hermione took a breath, "And I think he really should get a boyfriend, which could greatly alleviate the situation where he's been speaking bluntly and off-putting lately."

Draco opened his mouth, seemingly struggling with his habit of arguing with everything, but ultimately managed to swallow down the rest of his words, simply saying, "Sorry." Hermione even mentally checked the date today—Draco Malfoy had apologized to her without any additional conditions or nonsense. She had to remember this day. "The Hogwarts Christmas Gala is the perfect opportunity—there's food, mulled wine, mistletoe, snowflakes, Christmas decorations, a ball—it's almost synonymous with love. I can't think of any factors that could go wrong. So..." Hermione raised one hand, hesitated for a moment, tracing circles around Draco's expensive, perfectly smooth, wrinkle-free wool and unicorn hair wizard robe before finding a small spot on his shoulder, and punched it lightly: "Good luck, all of us colleagues are really counting on this."

Draco was silent for a few seconds: "Are you hoping I'll sleep with Harry, so he won't have time to argue against the 'Rules governing the behavior of Auror when inspecting dangerous items' you want to propose after the holiday?"

Hermione was also silent for a few seconds, then punched his shoulder again: "Always needs to make contributions, for team!"

In the bar where Hermione and Draco had just left, Ron was asking Harry about the details of the Hogwarts Christmas dinner. Harry ordered another beer, "Didn't you read the letter carefully?"

Ron was trying to recall, "Honestly, Hermione was the one who read the letter then. She did explain it to me properly, but she was wearing a very, very tight sweater that day, so..."

Harry painfully turned his head and asked waiter change the beer to Fire Whiskey. "I really don't want to hear about your sex life. Especially not Hermione's sex life."

Ron slowly shook his head, "Even if I wanted to tell you, there's nothing to tell, because we haven't... um..."

Harry squinted up and down at him, "You haven’t...?"

"You know, after the battle, Hermione went back to Hogwarts, and we already agreed to take things a bit more calmly with our relationship, to back off a bit, focus on studies and careers first. It's only been a few months since we reconfirmed our relationship, she's always been busy, and I'm just... you know, a bit nervous."

Harry took a large swig of Fire whiskey, making sure he was drunk enough before continuing, "What are you nervous about? It's not like you've never had experience."

Ron seemed to have already reached a higher level of drunkenness from his recent swig of beer, "Please, her ex was Krum, that damn tall, strong, muscular Bulgarian giant. Just look at his nose!" Despite Harry letting out a very loud, awkward and deathly groan from the depths of his throat, Ron still slapped his forehead on the table and continued, "I really wish Hermione had never had a boyfriend like that!"

Harry murmured, "Sounds like you wish you had a boyfriend like that."

"Come on!"

"Alright, alright, so about your first ... I really can't believe I'm discussing this with you... sex, what are your thoughts and preparations?"

Ron lifted his head, "I don't know, do you have any suggestions?"

Now Harry really started to roll his eyes: "Ron, you should know that with my current state, I can't give you any advice in this regard, and I really don't want to."

Ron's brain was obviously confused: "I really envy you, really, it must be easy to be gay. Men understands men, you like whatever he likes. And what he has down there, you have it too, just need to look down, right? ”

Harry slowly placed a hand on the scar on his forehead. He began to feel that another evil force other than Voldemort was attacking him. "I'm so lucky that I've known you for a long time, and you won't be allowed to say this kind of thing ever again."

Before the words fell, Neville came, sat next to Harry and looking at Ron, who were looking the ceiling with his eyes empty. This greatly relieved Harry: "Neville, you are here just in time, Ron is going to spend a night with a girl, as a heterosexual man, give him some advice." ”

Neville shrugged naturally and started counting on his fingers: "Whatever you think foreplay should be, double it; more hugging and praise, less touching the boobs; keep the time spent on the main event to 15 to 20 minutes. Oh, and use lubricant instead of some lubrication spell, that's the most important thing."

Harry rubbed his temples, trying to pull the information he just heard out of his head with magic, while Ron came back to his senses: "Lubricant?"

Neville spread his hands: "Of course, you don't want to pull out a wand and recite a spell between her legs during the first time, do you? Please, be a gentleman."

Harry finally couldn't help but speak up: "As far as I know, you haven't dated many girls, why are you so skilled?"

Neville spoke all that out in one breath, yet his face remained full of sincerity and earnestness: "I have always been listening and learning. This is what a decent man should do, learning how to make your date feel better."

Harry took a few seconds to digest all this in his mind, but ultimately accepted it due to the pure and upright aura that Neville exuded. He picked up his whiskey again: "You'll be at the Hogwarts dinner too, and you need to attend the dance. So, have you been dating anyone recently?"

Neville blushed: "No. But I have a fondness for someone, and I want to tell her that on that day."

Ron perked up again: "Who?"

As for who Neville is crushing on, Ginny has some say in it because it's about one of her best friends...... Maybe that's the case, and it can only be like this. After graduating from Hogwarts, Ginny continued her Quidditch expertise and officially joined the Holyhead Harpies as a backup chaser. Training is always hard, especially for the world's only all-female Quidditch team, which has always maintained a higher intensity and longer training than other teams. In this high-intensity work, she may have spent less time with Luna. So when Luna frequently contacts Neville Longbottom, who is working as an assistant professor of herbalism at Hogwarts, because of her research on the Fantastic Beasts aspect of which she has little in-depth knowledge of, she really has nothing to argue with, right?

In the tormented thoughts and entanglements, the team members also gave her a lot of advice - in fact, the Harpies is a bit like a Muggle women's basketball team, lesbian is the absolute main force in it, and Ginny was really shocked when she first entered the team. Chaser Valmai Morgan comforted her: "It's okay, you'll get used to it soon, even if you're not a lesbian, it's likely that you'll become lesbian, Wilda Griffiths is, she has now moved to Puddlemere United." When she entered the team as a straight and went out...... she snapped her fingers, "lesbian."

Ginny begins to feel like she has entered a Lesbian home planet that she didn't know for twenty years, mysterious, dangerous, and for some reason permeates a strange sense of humor (which she later discovers is called lesbian vibe). But as a newcomer, she was still asked, "Why?" ”

Valme shrugged: "I don't know, Jones said we shouldn't be called the Holyhead Harpies, we should be called the Holyhead Heterosexual Correction Camp." “

--Later, the more straightforward captain Jones once again answered the question: "Because eating pussy is a common repressed sexual desire of women. ”

Well, Ginny hasn't developed to the point how she should eat Luna's pussy (not that she doesn't want to), and her main difficulty at the moment is how to face the fact that she is likely to lose her best friend once she confesses.

Ginny asked that, but the team members who had almost used ex-girlfriends, girlfriends and pussy as punctuation marks were collectively silent. When Ginny tried to rally everyone to work together, Captain Jones stood up again and taught her an important lesson about Lesbian: "The problem you just talked about is one of the three ultimate problems of Lesbian. In addition to 'should I confess my love to my good friend', the other two questions are 'what to do if I fall in love with my teacher or leader' and 'How can I avoid big fights over cat ownership after breaking up with my girlfriend?'. ”

Ginny asked with the last glimmer of hope: "Is there any answers to these three questions?" “

Jones sighed: "I think Lesbian community has tried to explore the ultimate, but at the moment we are still waiting for a lesbian god to appear. “

Valmai interjected: "Speaking of which, Muggles have a lesbian god named Sappho, but she seems to have jumped off a cliff because she was rejected by a girl in the end, so...... Let's keep hope alive. “

If Ginny's biggest distress about good friend, then Pansy Parkinson is the complete opposite. Almost every week she goes to a restaurant near the Ministry of Magic building one or two days to meet her good friend Blaise Zabini.

"It's impossible to find a boyfriend before Christmas, I mean, I've almost dated all the rich Sacred Twenty-Eight men, all of them are outrageously stupid, can you believe it, they don't even have personality!"

Blaise Zabini had just sat down, not even having had time to take off Sapphire blue deer fleece scarf from his neck: "Please, people from those families don't need personality; they already have gold Galleons, land, and privileges. Personality is just for the poor."

"Why do you and I have personality then?"

Blaise tilted his head, making a look of affection towards pets: "Awww, you actually think the meanness of the two of us is personality, so cute."

"But they're not even mean! Money is a redemption ticket for being mean. If you're not mean, what's the point of your money?"

Blaise sighed: "I've already said that if you want to find a handsome and personality boyfriend, then you can only go to the poor, you can't expect the rich to have everything......"

Pansy angrily slammed the wine glass on the table: "But my family is about to run out of money, I can never find a poor person. For what to do, pee around me when I begging? ”

Blaise looked on the menu, skillfully using two minds: "If that's the case, there is also a way out: date the gays of Sacred Twenty-Eight, who are funny and handsome, and have all the qualities you need except not to have sex with you. But allow me to guess, you don't care if you have sex or not, after all, you already have money.” Speaking of this, Blaise looked up and thought seriously: "Maybe money is a compensation voucher for unsatisfactory sex in marriage." ”

Pansy laughed without even moving the corners of her mouth: "Haha, very funny." Reluctantly, the waiter called to order.

When the waiter left, Blaise put his attention back on Pansy, who was still sulking: "Why are you in such a hurry to find a boyfriend before Christmas? ”

"Although Hogwarts invited a Christmas dinner, it was only for one night. You also know all kinds of relatives in my family, for whom Christmas is simply ...... I seriously suspect that the Virgin Mary gave birth to a child as a virgin in order to deal with annoying relatives. Now, Christmas is not like celebrating the baby Jesus or that lucky jerk virgin giving birth, but like the official wedding rush day! What do they want me to do, squeeze something out of my vagina on the spot? I can, but I don't guarantee it's a child. ”

Blaise silently pushed the red wine away: "Thank you for ruining my appetite and love for the vagina." ”

"That's good, become gay and then I can marry you." Pansy hung a standard date-style smile on her face.

“Fortunately, my family isn’t one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, so I don’t have to marry you.” Blaise Zabini refused to be put at a disadvantage in any sharp-tongued conversation. “Oh, by the way, your aunt Margaret’s funeral is also approaching, right? Your father sent me an invitation too.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Yes, just one week before Christmas… That tactless bitch.”

“Hey! That’s your aunt!”

“Hey! She once tried to send me to a muggle monastery!”

Bryant scoffed, "Oh, then it's fine. It seems that you can only accompany me to the funeral of that tactless bitch"

"You haven't found a suitable date either?"

A beef tart was sent to Bryant, who frowned and placed a napkin on his lap. "No, you know my family tradition..."

"Yeah, yeah, always keeping an eye on the rich old women... or the rich old men," Pansy picked up her fork and knife, painfully fiddling with the shrimp sashimi in front of her. "Your dating pool is much broader than mine. Once you're settled with a rich guy, can you give me some pocket money?"

"Be your sugar daddy?" Blaise took a bite of beef, chewing slowly, "It depends on how much money the one I find has, she or he is very rich or very very rich. If the money is so much that I have to support a sugar baby just to spend it, you'll be my first choice."

Pansy tilted her head, patting her chest, "Awww, you really are a good friend."

“Cheers.”

Compared to the others who were immersed in the festive Christmas atmosphere, Cho Chang wasn't as lost in happiness—that’s not meaning she were unhappy, oh no, not at all. Cho had always been one of Hogwarts' outstanding graduates. After leaving school with top grades, she joined The Prophet as an intern for the current affairs column. After the war, Hermione had only accepted interviews from a few reporters, one of whom was Cho. Thanks to this, Cho's career started off on the right foot, basking in success, and no one could say she had any regrets.

Perhaps there was, but she also wanted to leave her regrets behind, so she just glanced at the Christmas dinner invitation from Hogwarts and carelessly threw it into the trash, then left home to meet her date.

This wasn't a romantic date, no, Cho seemed to have forgotten that the world had a thing called romance, so meeting her date wasn't something she was particularly eager to document: "Hey, long story short, I think we should just stop seeing each other."

Her date, a very nice guy (Chad? Ched? Richard? Whatever), looked at her in shock: "Honey, I think this is..."

Cho gently took his hand and rubbed his thumb lightly as a gesture of comfort: "Listen, it's not your fault."

"I know but..."

"Not my fault either."

The boy was speechless again.

"It's a love problem." Cho paused for a moment with precise, almost rehearsed rhythm, then continued: "I've always believed that true love only exists in the early stages of a relationship, flowers, kisses, sex, breakfast in bed, and all that. All the novelty can build us a beautiful illusion. Once you get to know each other deeply, everything falls apart. I might find out you don't wash your hands after urinating (she let go of the boy's hand at that point), and you might find out how smelly my feet get when they sweat. So, the best choice is to stop dating after we've completed exploring each other's unknown beautiful parts."

The boy's mouth kept open, as if searching for the right word.

"I know, I know, bringing up this topic suddenly must be difficult to accept, and you'd probably want to hold back. Why don't we say some things that will completely break the other one’s heart and make we never want to see each other again?" Cho patted his shoulder, "I'll start. After our first night together, I noticed an unusually long hair on your chest."

Finally, the boy found the word he wanted to say: "What?"

"Right below the left areola, didn't you notice? About the length of a thumb. I don't think you'd miss seeing such a long hair every time you take a shower and look in the mirror, or maybe you don't look in the mirror after showering, or maybe you don't shower very often?" Cho's voice held no humiliation or any other meaning, just continuing with the calm and gentle tone of discussing the weather, "Or maybe it holds some emotional significance to you, and you treat it like a pet?"

The boy’s face changed from pale to red almost in three seconds: “What’s wrong with you?”

Cho, instead, covered her chest in shock: “Sorry? Does this not help you?”

The boy exclaimed: “We were just browsing a bookstore! Who would break up with someone in a bookstore!”

Cho glanced around. Oh, she had indeed forgotten to consider the environment. This was her favorite bookstore, where she had also invited him over. Breaking up in a bookstore seemed a bit unusual? But it was her deadline in two days, and she had to buy reference books. She really didn’t have time to go to a café or restaurant and go through all that. She admitted it was her fault, but she wasn’t about to say it. After all, this was her favorite bookstore, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it. So, after pausing for a few seconds, Cho spoke again: "Now it’s your turn."

——Of course, the boy said nothing and rushed out of the store, apparently they really wouldn't see each other again in this lifetime.

Cho let out a long sigh and now she could finally choose her reference materials properly. She needed to write an article on the impact of the new muggle Prime Minister's policies on the wizarding world, so books about muggle politics... She made her way to a corner of the bookstore where muggle books were gathered, there was a small round table for her to browse at will.

There seemed to be someone sitting at the small round table. Cho didn't mind, it wasn't a table that couldn't accommodate the two of them squeezing in.

When she approached, the person sitting there looked up.

Cho froze completely in place.

The regret seemed to linger. It was like a clothing tag hidden behind your neck, always suddenly growing a sharp point when you finally relaxed and leaned back in your chair, pricking you.

"Cedric?"

『Act II』

If anyone truly expects Hermione Granger to wait until Harry Potter is ready to communicate with her, they are as wrong as Hagrid thinking he could truly tame an adult dragon (Hagrid is currently resting at St. Mungo's Hospital with stable injuries, and Charlie Weasley, as one of the responsible parties, is taking care of him). So just a few days later, anyone passing by the office of the Minister for Magic's Legal Enforcement Department, Ms. Hermione Granger, could hear arguments inside. Although Harry had agreed to deliver Christmas gifts to children in need, he still firmly opposed publishing a promotional announcement in the Daily Prophet first, reasoning that "it might ruin the children's surprise."

Hermione paced around the office, pressing her nose bridge: "So, can't we at least start with a vague promotion, like 'A Surprise Journey for Poor Children', 'A Christmas Miracle from the Ministry of Magic', 'Don’t feel frozen, feel chosen'..."

Draco, nearby, looked up as if struck by lightning: "Frozen... Granger, did you come up with that yourself?"

Hermione took a breath: "Yes."

“Did Prophet offer you a job when you graduated?”?

“Yes, what’s wrong?”

Draco paused for a moment: “Nothing, I’m just thinking about the future of advertising in the wizarding world.”

“Is it really necessary to write something like that in the newspaper? It sounds like a cult’s propaganda slogan, no one would want to read that.” Harry was so embarrassed that he kept scratching his head, that stubborn strand of hair at the back of his head standing up again.

“Actually, the Prophet wants to put your photo on the side to create a more dynamic festive effect. ”

Meanwhile, the private secretary Eleanor immediately raised her hand: "Oh, oh, I get it! How about 'This Christmas, we chews you.' She blinked her eyes and quickly made a finger gun gesture.

—The other three people were silent.

"Do you understand? We chews you, because Harry is the chosen one..."

Draco hesitated before speaking: "Eleanor... have you ever considered a career in advertising?"

Eleanor was clearly inspired, lowering her head shyly: "No..."

"The advertising industry in the wizarding world will definitely flourish in the future," Draco nodded firmly. Just then, a paper plane flew in, and Eleanor finally didn't have to respond to this, opening the plane and reading quickly: "Director, Minister Kingsley wants to see you for a brief inquiry, regarding the Christmas promotional campaign we just mentioned."

Hermione stood her ground and took two deep breaths: "We have already reached a consensus: Aurors on rotation to collect a list of children in need of help, Harry to deliver gifts on Christmas, and The Daily Prophet to publish the Ministry's promotional slogans earlier..."

“I didn’t agree to that!””

Hermione waved her hand impatiently: “We’ll get there, now I’m going to see Kingsley.”

Draco also stood up, but Hermione stopped him immediately: “You don’t need to leave, both of you should stay here. Kingsley always speaks concisely, I believe it will only take about ten to fifteen minutes. Wait for me to come back, and then we need to continue discussing.”

Despite Harry letting out a clear and loud sound of annoyance, Hermione still left the office in a huff, and Eleanor followed her out.

So... yes, the entire office was left with only the two of them alone. Before leaving, Eleanor even thoughtfully closed the door. Whether she meant to give Draco a knowing look or not, Draco started to sweat. In fact, ever since Hermione had said those words about the "sexual tension" between him and Harry a few days ago, Draco hadn't slept well—more than shyness, it was like he wanted to die.

To save his sleep and the dignity that was almost certainly gone, Draco decided to quickly move the relationship forward. Using several sleepless nights, he had rehearsed a whole routine. The general content is about: he would give a solo ten-minute monologue, pre-answering all the doubts Harry might have from every angle, and throw in some small tricks to show off his humor. After the speech, he would exit stylishly, leaving Harry with a dashing back and the curve of his butt meticulously sculpted at the gym.

But when they were really the only two in the enclosed space, the situation was different. Unfortunately, Draco clearly felt more awkward than nervous, freezing in place almost like a statue, his mind filled with: Harry Potter could know I like him, know yet say nothing, and wait for me to say it, that bastard!

It might have been a minute or a century, it didn't matter. Finally, it was Harry who broke the silence: "So you're also going to the Hogwarts Christmas dinner?"

Draco almost instinctively immediately fell into small talk mode: "Of course, your godfather Black is going too?"

Harry scratched his head again: "Ah, that would depend on whether they've finished arguing by then, cuz Lupin is definitely there as a professor."

"Oh, they also fight? I thought..."

Harry took the sentence very smoothly: "...... thought old gay couples won't fight?” He sighed, "Then you are very wrong." ”

Draco changed his sitting position: "I was going to say it was just a few days after the full moon, but... your way of saying is better."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes: "Alright, there's some truth to what you're saying. The reason they fought was that Sirius threw all of Remus's clothes away during those two days around the full moon..."

"That's terrible."

"Then he bought him a bunch of custom-made clothes— suits, wizard robes, even... don't ask me why I know... underwear." Harry closed his eyes again. "Remus thought it was unnecessary and a huge waste, so they got into a fight."

From Draco's expression, it could be seen that he really thought seriously for a while: "Why? ”

"What?"

"Why they fight? I mean, it's thoughtful, we've all seen Lupin's clothes, he taught at Hogwarts and really needed better clothes, otherwise the students would disrespect him. And Black has money to buy him good clothes, doesn't he? This is also for his image considerations. ”

Harry's eyes were wide open: "Can't you see? Remus has every right to be angry because Sirius didn't consider his feelings, he doesn't want to waste Sirius's money, he can prove himself through personal ability, not by focusing on outward appearance."

“But they're a couple, what does whose money matters? Overall, it can enhance his image, and also make them appear better when they're together in public.”

“Remus has his own feelings!”

“But this could clearly be a win-win situation, feelings aren't the most important thing...okay I'm starting to think this argument isn't just about Black and Lupin,” Draco changed his sitting position again, as if his butt seems to be cramping.

Another silence. Harry said, “Have you noticed that our viewpoints are always different?”

“I’m not trying to be difficult with you…”

“I know, but we always seem to disagree on everything.”

Draco took a breath, his pale face slightly flushed, “Yes, it seems we’re going to argue a lot in the future.”

Harry looked at him, the two of them locked eyes for a few seconds before both laughing out loud. “Do you want to come with me to give the children gifts?”

“Me?”

“Yes, I’m just asking, if you want to...” Harry awkwardly stood up from his chair and walked over to the window, “This is also meaningful, as a member of the once most representative pure-blood family, to give Christmas gifts to the poor children in the wizarding world—regardless of whether they are Muggle-born, to deliver Christmas gifts. This is beneficial for M.O.M’s publicity towards the wizarding world and improving the image of the Malfoy family.”

Draco almost stammered, paused for a few seconds before speaking: “You... really consider my family, that’s amazing, so... you’ll accept this as M.O.M’s publicity?”

Harry turned back from the window, wearing a big smile: “If we do this together, then the publicity won’t focus on M.O.M, but on love, right?”

Behind him, snowflakes were swirling and dancing in the wind. Draco sighed-- Oh, he was starting to like Christmas.

Logically speaking, Ron should have been involved in this big discussion, but several months ago, Ron had left the Auror department to help the Weasley twins with their ever-growing business. Although the twins did not admit to "help", they calmly acknowledged (perhaps a bit too calmly) that Ron, as one of the Golden Trio, had brought more popularity to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. As a result, they showed more concern for this little money tree brother. And so, when George saw Ron lying on the counter with a frown on his face, he couldn't help but walk over and ask, "What's wrong? Feeling down?"

Ron buried his head in his arms, letting out a groan.

Fred passed by holding the inventory list, glanced at it, and walked on: "Still no sex?"

Now Ron jumped up as if he'd been stepped on his tail: "Who told you! (After a clear pause) I’m not feeling down because of this..."

Perseus pushed the door open at the right moment, "Hey Ron, Hermione's working overtime today, coming back later. Why do you look so upset?"

George glanced at his watch: "It's already this late?" Then he pulled out several bottles of beer, "It's time. Ron's in a mood because Hermione didn't sleep with him."

"Who... How do you know!"

Percy patted his shoulder before setting down his briefcase, "It's basically all written on your face, and on Hermione's schedule."

"Her schedule says 'not to sleep with Ron'?"

"No, but her passion for work is almost on par with Wood's passion for Quidditch. If she had time to take you to bed, she would be a goddess to me."

George handed over a bottle of beer: "Are you trying to subtly express your dissatisfaction with your sex life with Wood?"

Fred laughed from the other end of the store, "Do you even know Percy? I seriously doubt he has sex just to vent his excessive passion for the wand quality inspection reports."

Percy must have seriously considered reaching into his pocket to cast a spell at Fred, his hand already in his coat, but ultimately gave up the idea when he considered that if any product was broken, twins will definitely take the opportunity to claim until he goes bankrupt. "Ron, Hermione places great importance on her career development, so at this time, it's something a qualified boyfriend should do—put his personal needs aside and let her do what she wants."

Ron and the twins fell silent, and the three of them were quiet for a moment.

"It's also good to block her in her office while she's at work."

Percey began pressing her nose bridge: "Fred..."

"You know, close her office door, cast two silencing spells and a locking spell, then say..." Fred struck a pose that was quite Lockhart-like, " ‘Miss, I think you're under too much pressure, I'm here to help you relax...’”

George mimicked it, "or suddenly pulling her into the back alley of a roadside bar on her way home from work, 'Lady, I've desired you for a long time...’ "

“Stop, stop it.” Percy couldn’t stand it anymore, almost pulling out his wand. “Who the hell would do that!”

Fred thought for a moment, “Don’t know, it might sound a bit extreme, but it’s definitely fresh and exciting, completely from fantasy archives of our own.” Fred paused after saying that, “archive of our own... don’t you think that’s a great name?”

Percy interrupted again, “Whatever this... archive contains, it sounds like a pure haven of pornography.”

George raised a finger with a serious expression, “Don’t say pornography with such a disdainful tone. We all need some sexual fantasies, even if they can sometimes be a bit extreme. That’s fantasy, not reality. If someone can’t distinguish between the two, then they’re a complete hypocrite.”

Percy immediately said: "Don't judge me from the moral high ground, okay? I am gay and I am from the progressive camp. I should criticize you kind of ...... Which kinds are you? Straight? gay？ Bisexual? Can someone tell me? ”

His questions were of course ignored. Fred patted Ron on the shoulder encouragingly: "You can definitely impress Hermione with some surprises, desire needs to be mobilized." ”

Ron almost completely got behind the counter: "Does anyone want to hear a word from me?" ”

"Hmm?"

"I really would rather die than discuss sex with my brothers."

Perseus shrugged: "So what, Fred and George always discuss this."

Fred and George exchanged glances and tapped their beer bottles: "Yeah... we're in completely different situations."

"Perhaps we can talk about this more carefully some other day..."

Percy was completely bewildered: "What?"

It was dinner time when Ginny rushed to the dining hall after finishing her training, and Neville had already arrived. "Did you wait long?"

"No, Luna still hasn't arrived," Neville said, still being kind and friendly, with a polite smile. Ginny had always thought this was the best part about Neville, but now it seemed to bother her no matter how she looked at it. The thought of Neville using this friendly face to lure Luna on a date made Ginny unable to resist the urge to use some dangerous moves on his face that the captain, Jones, had strictly forbidden on the field.

But luckily, Ginny was a rational person, so she calmly sat down. "How has work been lately? Are the new students at Hogwarts still as troublesome as ever?"

"They are fine. I'm wondering if the level of mischief students cause is proportional to the level of danger they face, because the new students haven't been able to match Marauders or Weasley twins," Neville said with a smile. "Professor Lupin also thinks so, even though he himself was a headache for the professors when he was a student."

“Are you still studying with Professor Sprout?“

“Yes, she’s about to retire, and she’s been teaching me some teaching techniques lately. Sometimes she also lets me sit in on Professor McGonagall’s classes.” Neville said this while touching his face, looking like he suddenly had a toothache.

Ginny couldn’t think of a reason why he might have a toothache: “Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes... I’m very happy to find that Professor McGonagall is very concerned about the students’ grasp of knowledge, and she still asks me questions from time to time even now.” Neville sighed heavily, as if the toothache had transferred to a stomachache.

Ginny laughed: "It's good that you don't stutter now." ”

"Yes, but still dizzy...... I suspect this is the root of the disease. ”

Ginny hadn't really seen Neville being severely demanded by Professor McGonagall, but it was not difficult to imagine that she doubted that Neville would be able to completely overcome this "professor fear" in the next few decades of teaching career, and it was not a good feeling to be a professor and a student at the same time. "So at the Christmas dinner, will you bring a female companion?"

Neville laughed: "I don't think so. After all, when you were at the last Christmas ball and kept stepping on your partner's rope and she later became a lesbian, it really makes you think... ”

Ginny patted his arm: "Please, although the process was not very pleasant, we kissed later." ”

"Don't think I can't tell it, it's a pity kiss."

"But a lesbian pity kiss, doesn't that mean anything?"

They laughed. At this stall, Luna floated in like a gust of wind: "I'm sorry I'm late, Murtlap is too hard to catch, I'm giving her a diet therapy, and the way she counters this is to show how flexible she is in my laboratory." She patted Neville on the shoulder and sat down next to Ginny before she was upset about it. “What are you talking about?” 

"The Christmas dinner at Hogwarts." Ginny pressed close to her with her shoulder, "Any ideas?"

Luna counted on her fingers: "It's in the middle of the moon cycle, so I don't need to worry about finding a Mooncalf, so it's fine."

"We're talking about dates, have you been on any dates lately?" Ginny quickly said this and then quickly called over a waiter.

"Oh..." Luna raised her eyebrows, shook her head, and her golden hair shimmered like water ripples in the light. "No, what about you, Neville?"

Nev's hand trembled and he dropped a silver fork. He struggled for a few seconds between picking up the fork and answering the question, stammering, "No, I wasn't, I haven't been on a date with anyone." Then he ducked under the table.

Despite the waiter still waiting on the side, Ginny called out, "It's not fair! You asked him but you didn't ask me."

Luna's eyes darted as she took the menu, " Would you go on a date with a lady without telling me? I don't think so." She lowered her head to study the menu, while Nev finally emerged from under the table, accidentally making eye contact with Ginny for two seconds. Both lowered their heads, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I know!" Luna suddenly pulled her head away from the menu, and Neville nearly bit his tongue. "At the ball, I'll dance to 'The Moon of Unicorn Blood' by the Weird Sisters!"

Ginny sighed, "But that's a heavy metal song, I'm not sure..."

Luna grabbed her arm, twisting and swaying, "Please, will you dance with me? You're my best friend, who else do I have?"

Ginny suddenly swallowed—Luna wasn't like this before. The old Luna, if rejected, would just smile and say, "It's okay, I can do it alone." But now Luna would insist on dancing with her, because "she was her best friend." If Luna found out her little secret, how would she feel then? If they weren't the best friends, what would they be?

Ginny took Luna's hand, smiling, "I don't think it's a good idea for the whole audience to see me dancing with a trained waist injury like a Bowtruckle. But Neville can dance with you, right, Neville?" She turned her head to look at Neville. Luna was also looking at Neville.

Nev was taken aback by the sudden mention, took a moment to compose himself, and said, "Of course, certainly, if you're willing."

Luna smiled. "Then let's make it so, the Christmas dance."

—This isn't some ridiculous sacrifice, it's selfish. Ginny knew it was selfish, still weakly holding onto the position of a good friend, while also choosing a date for Luna whom she thought was the best, the kindest, and least likely to hurt her. She longed to be loved, but also hoped she would be happy. She just wanted her to be happy, nothing more.

"Darling, I sincerely hope you're happy."

“Thank you.”

“But considering the speed at which you find boyfriends, that’s going to be very difficult to achieve.”

Pansy’s highball glass made a clinking sound in her grip, and Blaise quickly grabbed the glass, taking the hand of this Parkinson family aunt in the process: “Thank you, Aunt Mariaetta. Pansy will.. she will do it as soon as possible.”

The aunt swayed slightly as she shook Blaise’s hand: “You’re from the Zabini family, right? Brian?”

"Blaise."

"Oh... I always have trouble telling you dark-skinned people apart. Maybe you'd be easier to see under brighter lighting." Auntie Marietta quickly moved away, and now the highball glass in Blaise's hand began to creak. Pansy leaned in slightly: "If I may help, she's only three years away from breaking my family's longest-lived record, and that record hasn't been broken in 216 years."

Of course, this was at the funeral for Pansy's aunt Margaret, most of the guests were relatives and friends of the Parkinson family, dressed impeccably as they chatted, but their faces showed no signs of grief, and the coffin placed in one side of the room was completely ignored. Regarding this situation, Pansy's father said, "It's because adults are crying on the inside."

Pansy gritted her teeth: "I told you, this is the worst occasion."

Blaise took a sip of his drink: "Now I'm not sorry my mom didn't come. I said she was lying in bed due to illness, but in fact, she went to Switzerland for a vacation with a rich Frenchman."

Pansy shrugged: "A bit of a pity. If your mom came, I'd love to hold her arm and walk around the room, listen to which—'can't find anyone to marry' or 'marrying too many people'—causes more gossip. It's a very meaningful social observation."

Blaise and Pansy sat down on two chairs by the wall, trying to be inconspicuous, just watching people aimlessly walk around. "I was surprised," Blaise said, "I thought your dad would treat this occasion as your matchmaking event, making you wear a tight dress and chat with eligible men from Sacred Twenty-Eight everywhere."

"That's almost all the single men here," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I think he didn't do that just because most of the men here are married, also because they are older and more snobbish than him. Almost the moment he introduced me, they could see the price of my dress through some kind of x-ray vision, then deduce my family's wealth, and everything fell through before the conversation even started."

"It's a bit sad."

Pansy brushed her hair aside: "It's okay, I like being around old people. It makes me feel especially young, with firm skin and a great figure. I still have plenty of time to find a suitable boyfriend. Maybe the lying bitch dies right when my husband is born. That's what they call the cycle of life."

Blaise frowned, "You're not actually going to make dating guys like that your life goal, are you?"

"What else should it be?"

“I really don’t want to talk about feminism to a woman, but careers, ideals, love…”

Pansy took a deep breath: “Blaise, we’ve known each other for a long time. Do you think, given the education we received growing up, we still have a chance to find ourselves or love? We don’t even know what love is; what we know are family interests, losses, property, calculations—everything except love. For example, would you resist your mother’s demand that you date rich people to find ‘true love’?”

“But that’s possible, like Draco.”

“He had not resisted; he’s lucky to have waited for the collapse of the family spirit.” Pansy thought for a moment. “But you reminded me, I haven’t been paying enough attention to him lately…”

Blaise sneered sarcastically: "You don't know he's gay? ”

"It's you who said that marrying a gay in Sacred Twenty-Eight is a better choice."

Blaise stopped talking and got up to get them wine. When he returned, Pansy's father also began to invite everyone to sit down. "Thank you all for coming, Margaret is a close friend to most of those present, and she spared no effort to spread love while she was alive...... (Pansy let out a loud snort of disgust from her nose at this time, and got a stern look from her father) and her protection of the glory of the family. Her whole life is a model of a lady of noble blood, which is enough for each of us to feel sincere regret over the loss of her. ”

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a "I understand" look.

“I propose that we all observe a moment of silence together, not only as a sign of respect for the venerable Margaret, but also to genuinely reflect on how fleeting our lives are and what we should dedicate this brief existence to.”

The room fell utterly silent, and everyone lowered their heads, some with eyes closed, others gazing at their own toes, praying. Blaise couldn’t help but gently nudge Pansy with his knee, asking in a very low voice, “Why isn’t her husband here? Shouldn’t he be the one presiding over this occasion?”

Pansy nudged him back retaliatorily, “I don’t know. My dad said he collapsed from excessive grief and is getting medical treatment in the U.S.”

A very small voice suddenly came from Blaise’s other side, “Bullshit.” Startled, both of them turned to see an elderly white-haired woman sitting beside Blaise. She wasn’t very old, her eyes, though lined, still held a spark. She was tilting her head, using the person in front of her as a shield to avoid being noticed by Pansy’s father: “Margaret’s husband rarely came home when she was sick, always finding excuses to travel to nearby countries in search of adventures. Now, he’s enjoying beach sunshine in Hawaii with his really young girlfriend.”

Pansy and Blaise were both stunned into silence, staring at her for a good while. "Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Margaret's best friend," the woman said, peering around to make sure no one was listening. "Are you Pansy? She never really liked you much."

Pansy's mouth twitched. "Thank you for your honesty."

"It's because you look so much like her when she was young. Can't you see? You're practically a younger version of her."

Blaise seriously recalled in his mind the deceased's appearance he had just gazed upon. No, it was really hard to associate a dead person with closed eyes, covered in cosmetics and looking deathly pale with Pancy (who was often deathly pale with anger). "Her and her husband didn't get along?"

"It's hard to say they had any feelings for each other; they just married for a pure-blooded family alliance." The woman lowered her voice further. "Are you married?"

"No." Pancy said the word with a hint of genuine happiness for the first time. "Sorry, this might be a bit personal, but I was wondering why you're in such good condition? Your vitality and way of speaking are both better than Margaret's..."

The woman chuckled softly, patting her coiled hair with a smug air. "Darling, enjoy life with love. Don't wait until your husband has erectile dysfunction to realize you haven't truly experienced an orgasm."

Blaise tried to make himself transparent between the two women, but Pansy wasn't intimidated: "So your recommendation is... sex?"

The woman corrected: "More accurately, orgasm. Of course, it's not the solution to everything, in fact, it's almost never the solution to anything, but it's the first step in finding yourself, and it's definitely guaranteed to make you glow."

Pansy's eyes drifted to the side, not knowing what he was thinking. Blaise was pleased to see this; it seemed Pansy had also realized that discussing such topics at his aunt's funeral was inappropriate. So he could tactfully divert the conversation and get this woman back on the track of mourning her deceased friend...

"Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"Let's have sex."

"What?" Blaise suspected he'd had a brief stroke.

Even the woman was shocked by such directness: "Uh, actually, I was going to recommend masturbation..."

"If you don't want to Blaise, it's fine, I'll masturbate."

Blaise confirmed he would definitely have a stroke. "Do you really know what you're saying..."

"I didn't suggest this to feel younger, I just want to do something that makes me happy while I'm alive." Pansy picked up the glass and drained the rest of the wine. "At least when I'm lying down, I'll be more vibrant than that bitch lying there. How about it, are you in?"

Blaise clearly didn't understand anything, the woman slowly turned her body over. "Honey, are you sure sleeping with him is better than masturbating?" Seeing Blaise’s expression, the woman quickly clarified, "Not judging, just asking."

Blaise was quite certain he didn't want to prove his capabilities in certain areas through this method, but obviously, some kind of "funeral fever" had also effectively infected him, so he was also prepared to do the most rebellious thing in history. "Alright Pansy, alright, let's do it."

As they stood up, both neatly smoothed out the hems of their clothes. When Pansy passed the woman, she whispered, "Well, I might not have been too respectful to Margaret just now, after all, you're her good friend..."

The woman waved magnanimously, "It's okay, she's always been a bitch, as long as I love her."

Pancy smiled and pulled Blaise stealthily along the wall.

"Remember to use protection!"

Pansy left the funeral she was at, but on the other side, Cho Chang seemed to have been suddenly thrown into a funeral she had attended years ago. Her first love lay in a cold coffin then, and now he was sitting right in front of her, looking at her with sheer terror.

Well, this wasn't Cedric. This couldn't be Cedric. Cedric was dead.

"Sorry, you just look too much like... someone I knew before," Cho muttered, her voice low. She wasn't even sure if he heard her and quickly walked to the bookshelf by the wall, taking deep breaths to calm herself down (this wasn't pleasant, she suspected the place was filled with dust from years ago, irritating her nose) while trying to gather her thoughts and find the book she needed, then leave. No matter how valuable the books were, she had to get them out of there as quickly as possible.

《Muggle Politics and Wizard Politics》、《A History of Muggle Politics in Britain》、《Three Muggle Crises in the Early History of the Wizarding Society》……

“I’m sorry, I was too rude just now. Did I bother you?”

A man’s voice echoed behind her. She silently mouthed a curse of shit! Then she quickly turned around, smiling calmly, “I should be sorry. I mistook you for someone else. I must have disturbed you…”

“No, no, don’t say that.” He was almost the same height as Cedric, and when he smiled, fine lines would appear on his cheeks, just like Cedric’s. “My name is Eric. I’m a Muggle relative of the shop owner... but that doesn’t matter at all. I just come by occasionally to look at books.” He paused after saying that, “Are you a wizard, then?”

“Yes,” Cho simply said the word.

Eric sighed, “Great, if you’re not, then I must have made a fool of myself. If you’re willing, please sit down, don't be bothered , I can go somewhere else.”

“No!” The word almost reflexively shot out, Cho slightly blushing. “Really, we can share this table.”

The boy smiled, looking genuinely happy. There was no small mole under his right eyebrow like Cedric’s, and his eyelashes were longer than Cedric’s.

"My name is Cho, nice to meet you."

Of course, he wasn't Cedric. He was three years younger than Cedric and a year younger than Cho, still a student in the Muggle world. His way of speaking was more lively than Cedric's, lacking Cedric's reserved softness—would Cedric, if he had lived to 21, have the same confident tone and assertive body language?

Cho snapped back to reality, "What?"

"Sorry, I must have talked too much about myself and made you bored." Eric closed the book of "A Comprehensive Study of Wizardly Customs" in front of him. "I usually don't talk this much, but I'm just excited to meet such a beautiful witch."

Cho hadn't even had time to show a proper smile or respond politely to his praise when she heard herself say, "Do you want to go to the Hogwarts Christmas Ball with me?"

Eric's expression was more one of confusion than surprise: "What?"

Cho was taken aback: What was she saying? She was being completely illogical! Hogwarts couldn't be found by muggles, let alone allowed them inside. Hadn't she already thrown away the Hogwarts Ball invitation? Why would she think of taking him to the Christmas dance? What could possibly happen? Dancing with Cedric again? Kissing under the mistletoe? Watching him in his wizarding ball gown once more with Cedric's arm around? He wasn't Cedric.

Luckily, he might not know what Hogwarts was, so Cho quickly corrected herself: "I mean, do you have any plans for Christmas?"

Eric hesitated cautiously, "My family members are too far away, so... no, I haven't made any plans. Maybe just go to a classmate's Christmas party and have some drinks or something."

"What if I asked you to spend Christmas with me?"

Eric's expression became somewhat like the guy who just got dumped (Jed? Brad? Azibald? Doesn't matter), his eyes wide open as if severely startled.

It was Cedric who invited her to the ball, and Cedric didn't have this startled expression, nor did she. He stood on the steps of Hogwarts, extending his hand to her in front of her friends. She wondered if he would be surprised if she invited him? Or would he be like her, blushing and placing his/her hand in his/hers?

“I know this is a bit sudden, I didn’t mean shag, and I usually wouldn’t invite someone to spend Christmas with me within about 15 minutes of meeting them. I just... wanted to find a new way to spend Christmas.” Cho nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We could dress up a bit, go to a concert, or go to your friend’s Christmas party, there’ll be music there too. We could have a meal, chat, dance, have a wonderful evening, and then go home separately. If you’re not comfortable, there’s no need to force it…”

“Okay, I’d love to.” Erik smiled at her, revealing a neat set of eight teeth. His teeth were smaller than Cedric’s, and his eyes were bluer, sparkling in the light.

Cho smiled back. When she lowered her head, the words on the book blurred. She blinked hard twice, trying to remember where she’d put her light beige cheongsam-style robe. Was it still there? It had been seven years.

『Act III』

"Should we just do it directly? Is that really okay?"

"Be a bit more careful and not disturb anyone else in the house."

"Alright, I'll try to be as quiet as possible."

"Let's put a pillow under it."

Before the words could even finish, the two fell straight down the chimney into the fireplace. If it weren't for their exceptional professionalism, they might have both choked to death on the soot. Draco's gorgeous, polished, waxed blonde hair was completely ruined. When he finally spat out all the swear that minors shouldn't hear like a machine gun, he looked up and saw a little boy standing in front of the fireplace.

"Fuck, I'm really sorry! I mean... shit, I shouldn't have said that... Oh, bugger!"

Harry didn't bother brushing off the soot and leaped up from the ground: "Thank you, Draco. Now the kid has finally completed his childhood education... Hi, don't misunderstand, we're not bad guys."

The boy looked to be about five or six years old, holding a ragged teddy bear, without screaming, still standing in the same spot.

“I am.. we’re here to give you a Christmas gift. Are your parents home?”

The boy shook his head. “They’re still at work.”

Harry and Draco exchanged glances. “Working on Christmas, the most shitty thing...” Draco covered his mouth shut. It was a right and wrong choice, as Harry immediately bent over in dry heaves from the soot on his hand.

As he bent down, the boy saw the soot-covered, ghostly face on his forehead and gasped in horror. “You’re Harry Potter?”

Harry knew that phrase better than the weather in Britain, and he could dig up three bags full of similar sayings from his ear. "Yes, I am. But I'm usually cleaner and smarter, I wouldn't choose to fall down someone else' s chimney. However, yours is quite a nice chimney, it's surprisingly spacious..."

"You're a hero! You're my favorite person in the whole world!" the boy threw the teddy bear aside, opening his arms to hug him, but Draco, quick grabbed his collar and flailed around like a moving doll under a puppet spell, arms and legs flapping wildly.

Draco's face turned stern: "You little imp, don't get too excited. Your hero is filthy right now, and if you get dirty, your parents might..."

"I know you," the little imp glared at him. "Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, a student of Slytherin, you're a bad person, you helped Voldemort!"

Draco let go of his hand, and he no longer struggled, standing there staring at Draco with disdainful eyes.

Harry also frowned: "Hey, that's not very nice. Who told you he's a Death Eater?"

"Everyone says so. My dad's a muggle, he said the Malfoy family is the worst."

"That's not fair. The Malfoy family... well, they're not very good, but he's different. He once faced Voldemort with his whole family..."

Draco calmly interrupted Harry, making a gesture to step back and give Harry time to clean the clothes with the Accio Spell, and squatted down with a smile: "Listen here, kid, if you say anything more about the Malfoys and the Slytherins being bad, then this former Death Eater will..." He whispered close to the boy's ear. A few seconds later, the boy burst into tears suddenly and turned to run. Harry jumped in shock, completely unaware of what had happened, but relying on his excellent Auror combat skills, he quickly lunged forward and grabbed the boy, pulling him back into his arms to comfort him, his head pounding badly: "Draco, what did you just say!"

Draco shrugged, "Nothing, just normal things kids would hear, like burning down your house, or carving a Death Eater mark on you, so that if you touch your arm, Voldemort comes looking for you. Same old, same old."

Harry really wanted to ask what kind of bedtime stories Draco had grown up listening to, but now wasn't the time. "We're here to deliver Christmas gifts!"

Draco was casting the Accio Spell on himself, looking up: "I didn't say this was a family-friendly type of thing, I whispered in his ear."

The little boy sniffled and hugged Harry's neck (insisting on turning his face away from Draco): "Will you sing me a Christmas carol?"

Harry was a bit embarrassed: "I'm not really a good singer..." He cast a pleading glance toward Draco, who once directed the entire Slytherin choir, but before Draco could open his mouth, Harry ruled that option out himself.

"Please, please..." The little boy pouted, his lower lip trembling, about to cry again, and Harry immediately gave in: "Alright, alright, as long as you don't cry."

Harry tried to find the tune, humming with his mouth closed: “Through the windows, falling bright, stars from constellations peep. As all witches gather near, promises of joy to keep....”

In the eyes of the child (and Draco's curious gaze), he sang for quite a while, eventually finishing all four verses before the child clapped his hands happily: "One more song!"

Draco couldn't hold it in anymore: "Don't test my patience..."

Harry immediately put a hand on Draco, turning to present the gift he had prepared: "Noah, Merry Christmas. This is something we specially made for you."

The boy took the package, his eyes sparkling: "Really? Is it gold Galleons inside?"

"Uh, no."

"Is it a flying motorcycle?"

"No."

"Shouldn't Santa Claus make people's wishes come true?"

This time it's Draco who holds Harry in check: "Brat, even though you spoke ill of Slytherin, you're still quite a promising Slytherin. Remember to tell the Sorting Hat a few years later that I said this." Seeing the boy's mouth quirk up to say more, Draco quickly cuts him off: "We're leaving now. You can open your gifts after we're gone. Remember, don't tell your parents we were here. Merry Christmas!" Draco grabs Harry's arm, and with a *poof*, the two disappear, leaving a stunned Noah gaping, awestruck by the Disillusionment Charm.

Ron finally puts on his new formal robe, hand-knitted cashmere, custom-tailored, and Ms.Morgan kindly gave him a 10% discount. The one he had before, which brought back too many bad memories, had been burned in a fit of rage. "Hermione, are you ready?"

Hermione storms out, "Of course, we can't be late today, but just let me check the kitchen..." She turns and sees Ron's stunned expression: "What, is there something wrong with my clothes?"

From any angle, Hermione's outfit is perfectly fine. She's wearing a flattering, snug-fitting Muggle-style crew-neck dress with a clean silhouette and simple style. She has neatly arranged her hair, making it more sleek than her usual bun, giving her a very professional look—looking very... Hermione. Ron stutters for a long time before managing to squeeze out, "Um, no, no problem."

Hermione stared at him with a suspicious look, walked into the kitchen to check the cleanliness, she absolutely hated having dirty dishes in the sink, but Ron knew this better than she did and had already taken care of it. Hermione went around the kitchen and came out smoothly: "Finally, I can finally take a breath, the Christmas promotion is already handled, the Christmas gifts for the colleagues are also arranged, and the gift-giving activities between Harry and Draco should also be going without a problem..."

Ron still stood awkwardly behind the sofa, hunching over: "Great, so you can relax a bit."

"Strictly, not really," Hermione crossed her arms. "Because after Christmas, I still have to deal with new regulatory changes related to Aurors, Harry will definitely be very... Oh my god, can you just say it directly?"

Ron froze in place. "What?"

Hermione seemed to be getting angry: "Just say it, you hate my clothes."

"No, I don't..."

"You're clearly saying this with every reaction, because it's too formal, it's not pretty, it's not what makes me the 'beautiful and charming girlfriend' by your side, because you're about to appear at Hogwarts as a war hero and you need a beautiful companion, isn't that right?"

Ron started to scratch his head, which often meant he didn't have the right words to refute it. "Merlin, you can't always assume what I'm thinking."

“What are your thinking then? Or are you not satisfied with how I looked compared to the last Christmas party we attended? But that was already part of our student days. I work at the Ministry of Magic now, I can't possibly dress the same way again.”

“What? Not at all, and besides, you didn't even be my dance partner that time, did you?”

Hermione gave a wry smile, “So it’s about Krum again, is it?”

Ron was completely speechless, looking at her with a flushed face.

"I went to the event with Krum, my ex-boyfriend was a Quidditch star, I was all dressed up 'for him' back then but now I'm more low-key, making you look less outstanding, right!" Hermione's hair was almost standing on end, "Guess what? I really like this dress, it's not only suitable but also comfortable, I don't need to show off my cleavage or butt to be confident, I don't need a beauty that steals breaths because I am who I am! If you have any opinions about this, you can just say it, but that won't change anything!"

Ron finally couldn't hold it in anymore, "You want me to be straight, do you?"

"Yes!"

"Then I'll say it!"

“Say it!”

“You’re so pretty I want to have sex with you!”

Hermione was caught mid-breath, forgetting to exhale, and paused for a moment before recovering: “Sorry, what did you say?”

If Ron had only been blushing before, he now looked like he was about to explode, the freckles on his nose seemed to be burning. “Yes! I said it! You, you’re so beautiful... you’re smart, you’re strong, you know what you’re doing, and your butt looks incredibly delicious in that skirt, it’s giving me some temporary, unresolved difficulties... down there. Otherwise, I’d just run over and kiss you, take off your clothes, throw you on the bed, and completely ignore the Hogwarts Ball entrance time even though you’re very punctual and I love you for that! Now I’m done, are you going to hex me?”

Ron shouted out a long speech without much pause, Hermione stood quietly listening, as Ron's words became increasingly awkward, and only at this point did she notice why Ron insisted on standing behind the sofa backrest, bending over and motionless, she glanced, quickly looked away. This time she finally didn't end the sentence with an exclamation mark, her tone lowered: "I won't hex you."

Ron sighed, grinning awkwardly: "So... lucky for me?"

Hermione turned around where she stood, looking as if there was something to do but couldn't think of what: "You must be thirsty, I'll get you a glass of water."

Ron made a pitiful hum: "Thanks?"

When she finished pouring the water and came out, Ron still hadn't moved, reaching out from behind the sofa to take the cup. Hermione glanced again, "That part of you hasn't.."

"Not yet," Ron managed to swallow the water, "I really can't quite figure it out. When we were shouting at each other just now, I thought it was going to... recover, but for some reason it started... twitching."

Hermione started moving her hands in the air again, unsure where to put them. "So it's because of this dress?"

"No, actually, it's been a while. I wanted to spend night with you."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you're always so busy," Ron said, standing up a little straighter with a sigh. "And you know, men really don't have a say in this, of course they shouldn't, the decision lies with women. I don't want to put any pressure on you, When you feel very tired, you still have sex because I want to do it, I want it to be when you really want to."

Hermione lowered her head, "I've been very busy ever since I joined the Ministry of Magic."

"I know."

"I have a lot of work."

Ron smiled calmly with great understanding, "I know. I am a lucky man to have such an excellent girlfriend.” 

"Ron?" Hermione looked up at him, her eyes flickering like a cat. "You'll definitely get lucky tonight."

Ron opened his mouth wide. When he reacted to what Hermione meant (and Hermione was writing something down with her back to his remarks parchment on the fridge—hey, that's her butt), he had another problem he couldn't solve...... down there.

Learning from the mistakes of the last place, Draco and Harry decided to give the gift in the simplest way. The two checked their instruments and directly knocked on the door of the next child. As soon as the door opened, Harry spoke with the most cheerful tone and fullest enthusiasm, reciting his rehearsed lines: "Hello, I am Harry Potter, the Auror from the Ministry of Magic, we are here to find Naomi."

"You really are Harry Potter?" the little girl at the door stared at him with a suspicious, examining gaze. Well, this seemed to be Naomi.

Harry skillfully swept his hair back to reveal the famous lightning-shaped scar, "I'm here to give you a Christmas gift."

The little girl crossed her arms, "I know there is a potion that can transform you into someone else's appearance, so I won't accept your gift unless I'm sure of your identity."

Draco has never had much patience for children, even when he himself was a child, and now he was even more annoyed: "Then you really are a little know-it-all..."

Harry quickly elbowed him in the ribs: "You can't talk to children like that, no matter how much she resembles Hermione as a child."

Draco immediately breathed a sigh of relief: "Thank you! I thought I was the only one who felt this way. She's really too much like her, I really had a hard time holding back."

The little girl clearly heard what both of them said, but she wasn't angry at all. Instead, she combed her hair contentedly: "My idol is Hermione Granger, and my future goal is to become the Director of the Legal Enforcement Department after her."

Draco began to grind his teeth unconsciously: "So the future of the department is really..." After being elbowed by Harry again, he continued, "lucky."

"How can you make you believe I am Harry Potter?"

The little girl quickly ran back to the house, and by the time she returned, she had a notebook in her hand. "You need to answer ten questions about Hermione Granger."

"Ten?" Harry felt a bit dizzy, his voice weak. "Are your parents there? I can just give it to them."

The little girl scoffed dismissively, "They're dead, and I'm living with my grandmother. She went out shopping. Her knees aren't great, so she might not be back for a long time."

Harry and Draco straightened up together, "Okay, you mean ten questions, right..."

" Ginny, is it convenient for me to come in?"

Ginny jumped, as the only Weasley child still officially living at the Burrow, she hadn't heard such a clear young male voice outside in ages. Fortunately, it was just Percy; if it had been Charlie's bass voice, she might have been scared into losing consciousness for a moment. "Sure, come in."

Percy has always been one of her most polite brothers, and their relationship has improved a lot when they grow up, maybe because Percy is also gay, and more likely because his boyfriend is Wood, another Quidditch player, Ginny secretly feels that Percy's two identities of gay and Quidditch player family members play a more emotional role with her than the identity of her own brother. For example, as her own brother, Percy may turn a blind eye to her, but as a gay, he will say something like this: "Ginny, your dress is so beautiful, it suits your eye color very well." ”

Ginny nodded in satisfaction. "You look good too, that red pocket square must match Wood's robe color very well."

Per wearily waved his hand as if uninterested, though his corners of the mouth was actually upturned. "It was him who asked me to confirm with you that your two teams are currently playing a points match. He wants to propose a truce agreement, which means you both have to shut up and not discuss any Quidditch-related matters, so there won't be any suspicion of spying."

Ginny frowned: "Who would say 'truce agreement' like that? That's exactly what he said?"

Percy sighed heavily: "He's Oliver Wood, what do you think?"

Ginny couldn't help but chuckle and sat down on the bed casually: "Love really makes you so much relaxed, you're completely not like..."

"Pain in the ass?" Percy sat down beside her with a smile, "Oh, if I take it literally, I'm not sure... (satisfied to see Ginny's dying expression) So you haven't met someone yet?"

Ginny looked up at the ceiling, as if thinking about her words for a long time, and finally just said: "I don't know."

Percy wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and the two of them seemed like real siblings for the first time. Ginny leaned against his shoulder, not crying, just quietly silent. Ginny whispered, "Why is it so easy for lovers to become good friends, but so hard for good friends to become lovers."

Percy's cheek rested against her head as he shook slightly. "Everyone wants to turn lead into gold, but no one wants to turn gold into lead. True friends are as precious as gold, lasting, more worth cherishing than love."

"Is love not important then?"

"Good love is a natural diamond, bad love is sand. Most of us are holding onto that handful of sand." He lowered his head to look into Ginny's eyes. "And no matter how hard you try to hold it, the sand won't turn into a diamond. If you're still hesitating whether it's the good love you want, then it doesn't belong to you."

Ginny looked at him and nodded, then suddenly burst out laughing, burying her face in his shoulder: "You should know this isn't a very good analogy, right? It's very cliché."

Percey patted her: "Please, I'm trying to comfort you! And I've been enduring lines from these romantic comedies for years, just waiting for a chance to say it."

"You should read less muggle romance novels."

"What , is liking to read my fault?"

"I don't know you're willing to read anything besides M.O.M reports."

"Then you must be thinking of me as Hermione."

"Don't say that about my good friend! Hermione also reads other things!"

"Like 'The Great Wisdom of Muggle Politics'?"

“That book has jokes at the end, you don’t know what she likes!”

Draco is trying to persuade Harry to give the children gifts in the most concise way possible: "Just do it this way, otherwise you won't finish until May Day."

Harry is hesitant, “But Hermione said I need to talk to the children to show them I’m…”

Draco starts to think that God spent 6 days creating the world and then created Harry Potter and Hermione Granger on the seventh day to bother him. “Then you’ll never get out of this jungle of children! There are ten thousand questions, three thousand hymns, and an endless sense of guilt caused by your infinite compassion! Listen to me, we put on Invisibility Cloaks and ride broomsticks, put the Christmas gifts at the door, and fly away directly.”

"Hey, don't act like I was the only one feel sorry for them. Who just wasted twenty minutes ordering the house-elf to steal medicine from their own medicine cabinet to treat that little girl's mother!"

Draco shrunk his shoulders, as if startled by the fact that he was sympathetic. "That's because I expect house-elves to fetch me a bottle of painkillers because I got a trigeminal neuralgia attack from you!"

Just as Harry was about to list his good deeds further, Draco immediately adjusted his strategy: "Then let's not wear Invisibility Cloaks. Knock, wait for the kid to come out, and just hand it to her, then fly away. Your Firebolt is perfect for this kind of occasion."

Harry crossed his arms and thought seriously, "What if it's not a kid who answers the door?"

"Confirm that the person is the child's family."

"How did the child know it was us who delivered the gift?"

"Add your exclusive spell to the gift."

"If the child doesn't..."

"I swear if you object one more time, I'll leave a scar on your forehead that isn't Voldemort's."

Harry could tell he wasn't joking.

Cho sat in her own apartment drinking tea. It was another hour until her meeting time with Eric, and she was staring blankly at a small notch on the cabinet, mesmerized. If you squinted, the notch looked very much like the side profile of an elf, which was quite amusing.

Behind her, the light beige cheongsam-style dress she had worn for one night seven years ago was hanging on the wardrobe. It had taken her hours to dig it out from the very bottom of the box. It was a bit wrinkled and slightly faded, permeating a strong, pungent smell of camphor and dust. None of that mattered, she could spend just five minutes using some spells to clean it up as good as new—but she didn't want to. Last night, she had forced herself to go through her diary from seven years ago. The pages were yellowed, starting from the day she accepted Cedric's dance invitation. Her diary entries had become much longer since then, not primarily about him, but about trivialities: accidentally falling off her broom during Quidditch practice, thankfully the training field was soft with the scent of sunlight; having a lot of homework, but feeling good using her new vellum; too many mistletoe at the Christmas ball...

And on the day of the third match of the Goblet of Fire, nothing written. The following days were also empty. In the next diary entry, already a day of the week later, she wrote: I attended his funeral.

That time seemed to have completely vanished, no matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn't recall if that period of life had truly existed. Everything felt so hazy. She remembered trying to date Harry Potter, joining the Order of the Phoenix, and kissing Harry. But it all seemed to have happened to someone else; she was just an observer.

She didn't feel like she had been ruined after that, because she was still living well. She was doing great—work, sleep, dating—a steady and hopeful life, with ten thousand more things waiting for her to try in the future. She still had her hobbies: reading, doing crosswords, occasionally going to muggle cinemas to watch documentaries about animals, polar bears or whales.

It was just a nightmare like a heavy rainstorm, pouring into the hollow space in her chest. She thought it had already disappeared, but it turns out it wasn't completely drained yet.

Cho picked up paper and pen to write a note, politely thanking Eric for accepting her invitation, but regretfully stating that she had urgent matters today and couldn't make it. She also felt very sorry for breaking her promise on Christmas Day, considering such behavior to be terrible. She thought they would never meet again and wished him all the best in the future.

After finishing the note, she put down her pen and gazed out the window, carefully thinking of Eric's face. Despite knowing how much he resembled Cedric, his face still seemed blurred as if veiled by several layers of gauze, no matter how hard she tried to see clearly. She remembered Cedric's appearance—his young face. When she looked at Erik, every inch, every millimeter, Cedric was imprinted upon him. But now, her mind was filled with emptiness, as if he had never existed at all.

She tied the note to the owl's leg, attached the address, and said to the owl, "Hurry, deliver it to him as quickly as possible."

As the owl's figure gradually shrank into a small dot and disappeared behind a house, she decided to attend Hogwarts' Christmas feast. She thought of it as a way to regain a sense of real life, to recapture a period of vibrant, joyful, and carefree existence that had once been there, and she intended to find it again.

"Hey, is this Susan's house?"

The man sweeping snow in the yard looked around for a good while before finally looking up and seeing the two young people riding broomsticks in the air. "Yes, who are you?"

"I'm Harry Potter, here to give Susan a Christmas gift. Is she home?"

The man didn't say a word, simply dropped the broom and rushed into the house. Less than a minute later, he emerged holding a bundle of blankets, inside of which was a little girl with hair sticking out in ten different directions, looking like she hadn't slept much. The man made a series of gestures at the girl, and she woke up just as quickly as he did, soon opening her mouth and looking up at Harry and Draco in the sky.

“Susan, I am Harry Potter, delivering a Christmas gift from the Ministry of Magic. You’ve been a good child over the past year, and you should keep growing well in the new year!” Harry directly threw the gift with the accuracy of an excellent Quidditch player, and the gift rolled two circles on the ground before stopping right at the man’s feet. Both the man and the little girl screamed in surprise. The man lowered his head as if he couldn’t believe a gift really fell from the sky, while the little girl shouted at the sky.

“Merry Christmas!” Harry pressed the handle of his broom, and the Firebolt shot off with a whoosh. Draco tightly hugged his waist and cursed, “Fuck, why couldn’t you give a signal when you accelerated!”

“I said Merry Christmas.”

“On which planet could this be considered a signal!”

If the wind wasn't too fast and too cold, Harry would have definitely given him a piece of his mind. He felt Draco's head pressed hard against his back, and through two wizard robes, a small spot on his back was still warm. Harry smiled unconsciously, but soon the wind stung his front teeth, making him realize it. "Draco?"

"What."

"Doesn't this scene remind you of anything? Like a fire, a rescue, Hogwarts in the final year... Voldemort?"

"Oh shut up!" Draco gave him a twist on the waist, and the Firebolt wobbled, nearly making them both fall. Harry yelled with a red neck, and Draco's face pressed against his back chuckled, let out his first loud cheer:"Merry Christmas for Harry Potter!"

 『Act IV』

The moment you step into Hogwarts, it feels like coming home. From the lake, you can watch an incredibly dazzling fireworks show—the endless, non-stop rising of various breathtakingly large fireworks, including a golden lion, a white eagle, a unicorn, and even a majestic drawbridge suspended in mid-air. If it hadn't vanished for a moment in the middle, it would be hard to believe it was just fireworks made of magic and colored smoke—of course, these are all products of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the twins' creativity is beyond compare, and I'm sure this exclusive supply brings them profits enough to make Rita Skeeter green with envy for a whole month of columns.

The Hall's decorations are even more wonderful—covered in wreaths made of holly and mistletoe, twelve towering, giant fir Christmas trees (it's hard to imagine how they managed without Hagrid), adorned with golden and silver ribbons, small candles, and non-melting icicles, with magic-made birds flying around, chirping tirelessly above people's heads. Occasionally, a "pop" would erupt from a corner, followed by colorful confetti, as overly excited students prematurely set off their Christmas crackers.

The banquet hadn't officially started yet, and students were still streaming into the hall. Harry and Draco finally arrived on time, both covered in snowflakes. Ron had already had two glasses of pre-meal wine and his face was flushed red: "It's snowing again?"

"Yes, it just started," Harry rubbed his ears stiff from the wind hard. "Is Hermione here?"

Ron’s face reddened further: “She’s talking to Professor McGonagall.”

Harry stared at him suspiciously: “Why do you look so happy... Have you...?” Harry immediately shut his eyes when he said this. “Never mind, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Draco had already taken off his outer robe, revealing the fine cashmere patterned robe underneath, walked over to examine Ron, then turned to pat Harry’s shoulder: “Don’t worry, he hasn’t.”

Ron was completely at a loss: "What... how did you... Seriously, who in this hall doesn't know about my sex life!"

Draco was scratching his ear: "Speak up a bit more, I think my French relatives haven't heard."

Ron put his hands on his head and went to find Hermione. Harry and Draco stood facing each other, neither speaking for a moment. When they both looked up, their gazes met just then, and both looked as if they had been burned: "I'm going to find Neville." , "Good idea, I'll go find Blaise."

Blaise wasn't hard to find, as he was standing in the middle of the corridor like a flagpole, quite obstructive. Passing students could only mutter and detour around him, forming an independent little island amidst the noisy and crowded hall. Draco was afraid the children rushing behind might trample him, so he pulled him to the side: "Being Australia is great, but I don't think it'll get you to the temperature of the Southern Hemisphere here."

Blaise looked at him with a strange look, making him feel uncomfortable: "What's wrong?"

Blaise managed to stammer out: "If something happened between me and Pansy..."

Draco thought for a moment: "If you two break up, I might have to give up on you, after all, Pansy's family and my family have quite some relatives..."

"We're not breaking up."

Draco pouted, "What else could have happened? Did you sleep with her date?"

Blaise took a breath and said, "No."

"Did you sleep with one of her rich aunts?"

"No, guess again. You're very close."

Draco realized the severity of the situation and lowered his head, pondering for a moment, "Her rich aunt’s mother?"

Blaise completely gave up. "Forget it. I'm really glad you're working with Granger. Your logical thinking must have given her a lot of challenges."

Meanwhile, Pansy was sneaking in through the side door of the hall, trying not to be noticed by anyone. After checking left and right to make sure she wouldn't bump into Blaise, she just walked in and ran straight into Ginny, who was already quite drunk, and spilled her wine all over Pansy. Ginny was shocked and kept apologizing, casting a clean spell on her, but due to her lack of clarity, the spell was a bit too intense, leaving several holes in Pansy's sea-green velvet gown.

"I'm so so sorry." Ginny stammered, still holding her wand. To prevent her eyebrows from burning off, Penelope quickly grabbed her hand to steady her. Ginny stared at her for a long time. "Wow, you're gorgeous. What's your name?"

"I am Pansy Parkinson."

Ginny waved her hand dismissively: "Impossible, Pansy looks like a liondog."

Pansy was exasperated. "Did you see Blaise Zabini? That Slytherin, tall and thin with deep skin... Seeing her expression was so confused, she added, "...always with a look of constipation on his face?"

Ginny suddenly realized: "Oh, the Zabini! He seems to be over there," Ginny pointed in a random direction.

——When Pancy walked in the opposite direction and ran into Blaise head-on, she didn't blame Ginny for it; she had a screw loose to trust what a drunk person said. Both felt awkward upon meeting, but Blaise still pulled out his wand and cast a spell on Pansy's robe. The burned holes disappeared.

"That's impressive. How did you learn a spell like this ?"

Blaise tilted his head, "When you start getting dressed in custom-made gowns to attend various parties at the age of five, this is almost the first spell you need to learn. Because... well... otherwise, you'd just have to learn a spell for pain relief after getting spanked."

Pansy wanted to laugh, but she couldn't bring herself to when she looked at him, so she just ended it quickly. "Blaise, forget about what happened a few days ago."

“Forget?” Blaise’s lips twisted as if he’d bitten into a lemon.

“Let’s just be friends, okay? Even though we’ve slept together, it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

“How can you possibly continue to be friends with someone who has seen her orgasm expression? That is the most ultimate private realm in the world! ”

Pansy dreaded him saying this; she almost wanted to tear her own ears off. “Or what? Are you going to cut me off? We don’t have any other choice, because your mother’s always demanded you date someone wealthy, and that’s not going to change.”

Blaise's strong ability to read between the lines, honed from a young age, was very useful at this moment, requiring almost no reaction. "So you no longer want to find a boyfriend from Sacred Twenty-Eight ?"

Pansy sat down heavily in an empty chair, "I don't think I should. It's not just about getting rid of family control, but also because there are really no good eggs in Sacred Twenty-Eight ."

Blaise couldn't help but chuckle and slowly sat down beside Pansy. "So, how about we give it a try?"

Pansy looked at him as if he had seen a ghost. "We? You mean me and you? That won't work."

"Why isn't it working?"

"Because we are all bred by our families to be marriage machines, we are all mean, we are all opportunistic, and we never understand how to make a relationship work, nor do we understand what love means."

Blaise nodded along with her, looking quite agreeable. "You're right, we are very similar. Because of that, why not give it another try? If we break up, the family relationships will still be there, and we won't become enemies. At most, we'll just... be friendly on the surface while digging traps for each other behind our backs."

Pansy turned to look at him, raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Of course."

"Is it because you think I'm so good in bed that you want to do it again?"

Blaise rolled his eyes dramatically, "Please, I'm not that naive."

"But we don't know how to date."

Blaise's knee gently rested against hers, "If you give up the rule that your date must be from Sacred Twenty-Eight , and I give up dating old rich guys, that looks like a good start."

Pansy laughed, "And we've both seen each other naked."

"Miss, are you implying you were impressed by my penis?"

"Please, I'm not that naive... well, your penis is actually quite good."

Blaise proudly tilted his head back, "Told you."

Pansy wasn't about to press the drunk Ginny, but Neville couldn't ignore her, or she might fall off the chair. "Ginny, sit up straight, you need... do you need to go to the bathroom? Do you need some fresh air?"

Ginny leaned back in the chair, sighing. "Why are you always so kind?"

Neville was taken aback by the question. "Me?"

“Yes! You!” Ginny twisted aside, grabbing Neville’s collar tightly, her eyes practically shooting fire. “Why can’t you be a bit rougher, or arrogant, so I could...” She collapsed onto the table, the rest of her sentence muffled by her red hair.

Neville was momentarily at a loss. Seeing her still moving uncomfortably in the chair, he could only choose to shake her awake: “Ginny, let’s go outside.”

Ginny lifted her head abruptly from the table, a napkin still stuck to her forehead. “Has Luna arrived?”

“She hasn’t yet.” Neville reached out to remove the napkin for her, sighing. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air. You don't want to look bad when you see her, right?”

This approach worked, as Ginny, supported by him, stepped out through the side door and stood on the steps to steady herself. Blown by the snow and wind, she seemed much clearer-headed. Leaning on the railing, her eyes looked far into the deep night forest.

"You like Luna, don’t you?" asked Neville.

Ginny flinched, then replied in a calm voice, "Yes."

"You haven't told her yet."

Ginny turned her head to look at him, "I won't tell her. Because this will pass."

Neville started to scratch his head, "Merlin, Ginny... I mean... you should tell her."

"No." Ginny reached out to steady his shoulder, "You just keep dancing with her... I'm not saying you need my permission or anything, I just... I'm doing this for myself, not for you, and not for her, you know? It's my own feeling, and I choose where it goes."

Neville took her hand resting on his shoulder and rubbed it reassuringly, "She's really cute."

Ginny laughed: "That's right. She sometimes taps her fingers lightly on the teacup, like she's playing a musical instrument."

"She talks to magical creatures, using that very delicate voice, as if the whole world only consists of them."

"And she twists her fingers when she's stressed..."

"How can someone do so many things with their fingers! Sometimes I'm afraid she'll break her fingers or something."

Ginny and Neville smiled at each other. "You really like her."

"You too."

Ginny suddenly reached out and punched him hard. Neville yelped in pain. "You're a very good person, as her friend, I truly believe that, so I allow you to dance with her. As for the rest, it depends on her feelings."

Neville rubbed the spot where he was just hit, gritting his teeth. "Thank you, but, ouch!"

Ginny took a deep breath with all her might, "Alright, I'm heading back now. Maybe I'll meet some beautiful woman and then kiss them before becoming their best friend."

"Before that, you can meet Professor McGonagall. She wants to ask about Quidditch..."

"Wait, do you think many people will walk by here? Will they be looking down?" Ginny had already taken one foot inside the hall and then pulled it back. As Neville was still pondering whether this was a philosophical question, Ginny generously said, "It's fine, I don't have many other choices." Just as she finished speaking, Ginny turned elegantly, leaning on the railing and vomiting loudly. Neville awkwardly combed her hair, using his facial expressions to apologize to the astonished students in the hall, "Sorry, I'm not with her..."

"Everyone please pay attention." Professor McGonagall's strong voice echoed in the hall. Everyone was already seated, even the magical birds had quietly perched on the Christmas tree and stopped chirping. "Welcome to Hogwarts' Christmas feast! Before the feast begins, I want to congratulate you all for having a peaceful and tranquil year, and I hope the next year will be just as wonderful. Speaking of which, I'd like to introduce to you the distinguished alumni we've invited to this year's feast. They too made outstanding contributions in the Battle of Hogwarts against Voldemort three years ago. I hope everyone will pay their respects to them!"

Thunderous applause and numerous whistles echoed in the hall. The "elders" sitting at the long table at the front of the hall were a bit shy, their eyes bright as they scanned the students.

"Let me introduce them. Harry Potter, a graduate of Gryffindor, currently the Auror of the Ministry of Magic!"

Another wave of overwhelming cheers, even from the professors' seats. Harry was still so unaccustomed to the welcome that he quickly stood up to acknowledge and then quickly sat down again.

"Hermione Granger, a graduate of Gryffindor, currently the Director of the Legal Enforcement Department at the Ministry of Magic!"

Hermione, however, was much more composed, standing up and nodding at the children with her hand on her chest.

"Ron Weasley, a graduate of Gryffindor and former Auror at the Ministry of Magic!"

Ron stood up, blushing, still tightly holding Hermione's hand.

"Luna Lovegood, a graduate of Ravenclaw currently working on the study of magical creatures!"

"Graduated from Ravenclaw, currently employed at The Prophet, Autumn Zhang!"

Professor McGonagall introduced them one by one, Harry turned to look at the professor's chair, Neville gave him a sidelong glance, and Lupin smiled at him. Harry mouthed "Where's Sirius?" Lupin helplessly lifted his left hand, which had been hidden under the table the whole time, and a black dog's nose immediately poked out from under his arm.

"Graduated from Slytherin, currently the Permanent Secretary of the Legal Enforcement Department at the Ministry of Magic, Draco Malfoy!"

This time, the applause was noticeably sparse. When Draco stood up, his face was expressionless, and his posture stiff. As he sat down, Harry quietly took his hand under the table. Draco glanced at him, his cheeks flushing a deep pink, and firmly grasped his hand in return.

“Finally, it’s the one you all know teaching at Hogwarts…”

“Hey Professor McGonagall, and us too!” the Weasley twins said indignantly without hesitation. “You can’t treat today’s fireworks exclusive supplier like this!”

Professor McGonagall clearly held back for a moment: “If I introduce you, can you promise not to take the opportunity to advertise your shop?”

“We can, but I think no one here doesn’t know our shop.”

The students in the audience erupted into applause in agreement, and Fred and George immediately stood up, shouting, "10% off all items during the Christmas holidays!" "Spend 10 gold galleons and get a free Daydream Charm as a gift!"

Professor McGonagall spent some time calming the promotional chaos. After introducing the professors, just as she was about to announce the start of the banquet, Harry suddenly made a gesture, asking to say a few words. The moment Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement, the students let out a wave of frustrated complaints.

"I know, I know, I'll be quick," Harry began to sweat as he stood up, wiping his forehead with his sleeve in panic. "I am honored to be invited to Hogwarts at Christmas, earlier today, I went to deliver Christmas gifts to some children who need help... Okay, Hermione, thank you for the reminder, it was the Ministry of Magic's Christmas event that sent me. Although I was delivering gifts to children, I learned the most important thing, which is love."

"Former Headmaster Dumbledore once told me that love is the greatest magic. And I want to say, love is also the ultimate question we need to learn throughout our lives. Here you all sit, in the same school, yet divided into four houses for various reasons, creating inherent prejudices between them. But I want to tell you all that no one can be bound by the label of their house."

“Yes, the Slytherins are a bunch of little jerks...” A burst of laughter and a chorus of protests erupted in the Great Hall. Harry waved his hand at the Slytherin table, “Please, you know that yourselves, don't pretend you weren't deliberately acting that way... Anyway, the former headmaster Snape, who made significant contributions to defeating Voldemort, is also a Slytherin. And the one sitting beside me, Draco Malfoy, who is now working at the Ministry of Magic and made the right choice, is also a Slytherin.”

“So what I’m saying is...” Harry started hesitate, “Um... the Slytherins, stop being jerks... The other houses, be more accepting... We need to learn to love each other.”

The students fell silent, utterly quiet.

The silence was profound. Harry coughed and raised his glass, “For Christmas!”

Students managed to raise their glasses weakly, their voices faint.

Hermione leaned over: "Harry, you did pretty well..."

Harry looked like he desperately wanted to put on the Invisibility Cloak and disappear into the air. "Just drop it."

Draco leaned on his face with his hand: "Hmm, interesting. What was that all about? Trying to pursue me? If you want to pursue me, you'll have to do better than that."

"I'm here for Christmas and love!"

Draco raised his eyebrows: "Oh, so you love me?"

“Who's down there speaking!”

Harry and Draco flinched in fear, and Professor McGonagall heard the silence with satisfaction, formally announced: "Christmas Dinner is now served, please enjoy yourselves!"

Oh, if anyone claims to truly remember how lavish and wonderful the Hogwarts feast was, they must be lying. Each long table was lined with several enormous Christmas turkeys, mountains of roasted vegetables, bacon rolls, meat pies, and raspberry jam. The spectacular Christmas pudding and mince pies were so huge they seemed to defy gravity. The scent of mulled wine drifted through the professor’s table and the guest’s table, intoxicatingly sweet. Even the Weasley twins paused their business pitch, rushing to the professor’s table to ask Lupin for hot chocolate, and then got into a fight with Sirius Black. When Pansy and Draco toasted, they revealed their relationship, causing Draco to spill wine all over himself, which led him to scream and curse wildly. Luna and Hermione huddled together, whispering and laughing occasionally, casting meaningful glances at Ron, who had a turkey leg stuffed in his mouth, struggling between chewing and swallowing. Ginny and Wood certainly argued over Quidditch, forcing Neville to cast a Rain Shield charm in the middle to prevent their spit from flooding the entire plate. Cho and Percy chatted animatedly; Cho had just finished an article on muggle politics and quoted extensively from relevant books, while Percy pulled out a notebook and pen to jot down the titles--What a wonderful feast! Even Professor McGonagall laughed so hard she collapsed onto Professor Hooch’s shoulder, this was called by Harry "a rare spectacle of a lifetime".

While everyone was distracted, the band began to play, and the atmosphere of the ball seeped into the hall unnoticed. The professors stood up first to guide the crowd out, and the house-elves appeared. Within minutes, the long tables vanished, replaced by neatly arranged small round tables along the walls, and the floor in the center of the hall glowed, becoming a dance floor. “Students, the ball has begun!”

The Weasley twins were the first to enter the dance floor, spinning around like whirlwinds and pulling Harry along with them. Harry screamed for help, and in the process, dragged Draco, who was watching the scene, along with him. Draco yelled in protest, “You know I didn’t agree to dance with you yet!”

Ron made a very formal invitation, and Hermione held out her hand to him with her chin raised. The two stepped into the dance floor. Ron, holding Hermione’s waist, was so nervous he could barely stand still: “Although I’ve practiced dancing in secret, but... I’m pretty stiff.”

Hermione replied, "That doesn't matter, as long as you don't use it to poke my stomach."

—Ron became even stiffer now.

Pansy and Blaise naturally became dance partners, and when Pansy danced over to Draco, she apologized to him, "I'm really sorry for spoiling your gown with such a sudden news."

Draco was still arguing with Harry over who should hold whose waist, "I won't forgive you! Not even if Blaise helped me remove the stain from my gown, I won't forgive you!"

Blaise turned to him: "Anyway, if it's any later, there will be other stains from Potter on your gown too. Why worry about this?"

Pansy added: "Only on the gown? I think it would be much more trouble for Draco if it were somewhere else."

Draco almost choked: "So this is what I have to look forward to? The Bitch Duo?"

Pansy tugged Blaise's hand and did a perfect pointe turn: "You bet this is."

Neville was quite nervous when he invited Luna, but Luna wasn't bothered at all: "I should warn you in advance, I'm not very good at this kind of dance, so I might step on your feet quite a bit." She glanced back at Ginny and gave her a knowing eye squeeze, perfectly conveying the message "watch me get revenge for the last time you stepped" Ginny smiled, raised her eyebrows at Neville, and gave him a thumbs-up gesture. As she turned to find an inconspicuous spot to sit down, she happened to see Cho, who was sitting idly in the corner, wearing a modest light gray gown, drinking and seemingly lost in thought.

Ginny walked over and made a dramatic invitation gesture: "May I have this dance with you?"

Cho came back to his senses with a bit of surprise: "Me?"

Ginny tilted her head: "Come on, you need a completely new Christmas memory."

Cho exhaled, smiled and put his hand on Ginny's hand: "I must tell you first, I am mean in terms of feelings, and I am not a lesbian." ”

Ginny made a very surprised expression: "A woman who can be mean to men is not lesbian?" Maybe you just be confused. Pick a convenient time to stop by our Harpits training base. ”

"Why, are you going to seduce me into a professional Quidditch player?"

Ginny pretended to be very skilled at leading, hugging her waist, "Hmm.... Yes, let's... use this statement. ”

Students paired off, moving about, some chatting or playing Wizard's Chess at round tables by the walls in groups, while many were staring intently at the pairing of Harry and Draco, or laughing at the couple of Sirius and Professor Lupin. It had nothing to do with their genders; rather, Sirius was persistently trying to perform a difficult acrobatic trick by hanging onto Lupin's neck, while Lupin, struggling to stay balanced, was greeting the passing students with a shy smile. So... strictly speaking, it wasn’t the students' fault. Under the pairing of the classical orchestra and the Weird Sisters band, everyone was laughing and dancing. Was it past curfew already? Maybe, but who cared? It was Christmas.

Hogwarts Castle is like a beautiful and permanent crystal ball, shaken by children, and surrounded by fireworks and snow to create a gorgeous little world. And all this is wrapped in the noise of the whole world, and Christmas is coming to everyone.How I wish Christmas would never end, this night stretching endlessly, filling life to the brim with snowflakes, stars, lovers, butterbeer, and angels. But time always has to move forward, and next year will still have Christmas, still have a wonderful world without Voldemort. Hogwarts will welcome new students, and our familiar heroes will start new lives. Life, this damn yet sweet thing, is damn for 364 days a year, and the sweet part is—everyone, Merry Christmas.