The Witch's Destiny || Thranduil

Chapter XXXVIII

"No! Don't put it there!" Violet said, struggling, "We need to put it over there!"

"Then I need you to work with me, darling, not against me!" Thranduil replied.

Angelina had pulled her aside last night before they left, telling Violet had her grandfather had reserved a tree just for her if she got back from her... holiday in time for Christmas. Angelina's grandfather was a muggle who owned a tree farm, and each of the individual Weasley families and Violet came to him to get their trees.

So, that led to now. They were moving their Christmas tree to the correct corner of the living room, with Flufflepuff watching in amusement from his spot on the sofa. If he was human, Violet thought he'd be kicked back with his feet crossed and an alcoholic drink in his hand with a straw.

They both grunted, finally getting the tree where it needed to be. Violet huffed, standing back to look at it with her hands on her hips and heavy breaths.

"I tried to tell you to let me do it on my own," Thranduil said, hands on his own hips.

"Oh, I'm sorry for trying to help!" she said, turning to him with an annoyed look on her face. She stopped short when a grin broke out on his face, and her tensed shoulders relaxed. "You are just teasing me."

His grin never wavered as he nodded, walking forward and guiding her arms around his neck. "That I am."

He kissed her deeply, setting her whole body alight, heat marking the path that his fingers drew on her waist.

Meeting her family had broken some sort of barrier for him. His touches were more explorative and his actions more sensual. A thumb rubbing on her side dangerously close to her chest. Walking up behind her and placing a long kiss on her neck. Fingers lingering on her hip as he moved away from her. It was maddening and tempting all at the same time. If he kept it up, she may just throw him down where he stood and claim him as her own.

Stupid traditions.

She and Thranduil both had a tendency to adhere to tradition in their personalities, never straying far from what they already knew. Their relationship was probably the most untraditional thing either had done, and even then, they were brought together because of a shared experience: something they both knew.

This would be a long year for her. The year would pass in the blink of an eye for him. But for her, it would move agonizingly slowly, building up and up, and just when she thinks she can't handle it anymore, then it will be time to marry him.

As if he could sense her inner thoughts, he moved away from her with a smirk, picking up a golden ornament from the box they had already brought out, and moving to begin decorating.

"Naughty man," she whispered, knowing he could hear her.

He certainly acted like he didn't, though. She brought her wand out, using it to start the Christmas music on the gramophone. For Christmas a few years ago, Harry had a custom record made for her with her favorite Christmas songs on them.

"Rockin' around the Christmas tree. Have a happy holiday," Brenda Lee's voice sang out. Flufflepuff began dancing around on the couch, and Violet followed suit, picking up a different golden ornament.

All of Violet's ornaments were golden. Most of the time, she didn't pay attention to whether decorations went together or not, if that wasn't already evident by the smorgasbord of house decorations around her flat. But her Christmas tree was something she took pride in, even if it wasn't perfect and matched her ability—or lack thereof—to decorate. Golden ornaments, a gold star tree topper, candles that glow golden in the dim light was everything that went on her tree.