cigarette daydream || james potter

"Cigarette daydream,"

The final week before the Christmas holidays always changed the atmosphere of Hogwarts.

Lessons still continued, homework was still assigned, and professors still insisted that students pay attention, but there was an unmistakable excitement hanging over the castle that made concentrating almost impossible. Every corridor buzzed with conversation about journeys home, Christmas dinners and presents waiting beneath decorated trees. Owls flew endlessly through the castle carrying last-minute letters, while trunks appeared outside dormitories ready to be packed. Even the portraits seemed to have caught the festive mood, gossiping animatedly about holiday plans and singing fragments of Christmas songs whenever students passed by.

Outside, winter had settled over the castle completely.

Fresh snow covered every rooftop and windowsill, smoothing over the ancient stonework until Hogwarts looked as though it had been carved from ice and sugar. Thin trails of smoke drifted from the hundreds of chimneys into the pale afternoon sky, while students bundled in thick cloaks laughed as they crossed the grounds below, leaving winding footprints through the untouched snow. The Black Lake glittered beneath a layer of frost, and every breath taken outside appeared as little clouds of mist in the freezing air.

Most students could hardly contain themselves.

The Gryffindor dormitories had become wonderfully chaotic over the last few days. Half-packed trunks sat open at the ends of beds, clothes were strewn over chairs, books were stacked into untidy piles waiting to be squeezed into suitcases, and the occasional enchanted Christmas present floated carefully across the room, wrapped by magic rather than by hand. Girls wandered between one another's beds borrowing scarves or asking whether anyone had seen a missing glove, while excited conversations filled every spare moment.

"I can't wait for my mum's cooking."

"My little brother keeps asking if I've learnt any dangerous spells."

"My gran sends me a jumper every single year."

"I hope it snows this much at home."

Everywhere Estella went, someone was talking about Christmas.

Someone was smiling.

Someone was counting down the days until they could leave.

She couldn't understand it.

For everyone else, the approaching holidays meant comfort.

For her...

They simply meant going back.

Back to the little Yorkshire cottage that never truly felt like home.

Back to tense silences around the dinner table.

Back to the sound of raised voices echoing through paper-thin walls.

Back to watching her mother quietly force smiles she didn't feel.

Back to pretending she couldn't hear Remus's screams every time the full moon arrived.

The thought alone made a heavy knot settle in her stomach.

She would have happily stayed at Hogwarts forever if someone had given her the choice.

Instead of joining the excitement downstairs, Estella had escaped to her dormitory.

The room was unusually quiet.

Most of the other girls had gone to the common room or the library, leaving the dorm empty except for her. The curtains around the beds had been tied neatly back, allowing the weak winter sunlight to filter through the tall windows overlooking the snowy grounds. Even so, the room remained pleasantly dim, the cloudy sky outside bathing everything in soft shades of grey and gold.