❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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LVI. TIS THE JOLLY DAMN SEASON
━━━━━━
"And wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm fakin'
And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own"
WAKING UP BRIGHT AND EARLY was nothing but remedy for Marjorie when she woke up on Christmas day, surrounded by makeshift beds all round her that were being slept on by a rather perfect-looking Fleur, a somehow gotten off the bed Anya, and a snuggled-up Ginny. The room was filled with nothing but soft, rhythmic breathing that Marjorie found quite calming, which was funny enough.
She was very much used to waking up to this back in Hogwarts; her dormmates were never ones to wake up early, always having her either waking them up for them, or simply sleep in... for the rest of the day. But this wasn't Hogwarts, and there was just something about the air that wasn't Hogwarts that made mundane, ordinary things simply intriguing to her. Perhaps it was because this was the Christmas holiday, and she was fairly used to a lonely Christmas after all.
Marjorie stretched beneath the patchwork quilt Mrs. Weasley had lent her, enjoying the weight of it before sitting up. The room was bathed in a warm, golden light as the sun began to rise, casting a gentle glow through the curtains. She quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb anyone as she padded softly to her small travel trunk. She crouched beside it, intending to freshen up for the day, but something peculiar caught her attention. Hanging from the edge of the trunk, nestled between her clothes and the bedpost, was a scarlet sock. It was plump, clearly filled with something, and embroidered with an elegant "M."
Frowning, Marjorie reached for it, confusion spreading across her features. A sock? She turned it over in her hands, the weight of it surprising her as she heard the faint crinkle of wrapped packages inside.
For a moment, her heart fluttered in her chest, and she froze, staring at it. There had to be a mistake. Socks weren't supposed to be filled with gifts. Not for her, at least.
A distant memory surfaced, of Ginny and Ron mentioning some great-aunt Muriel, who they all seemed to regard with equal parts amusement and dread. Was this some family mix-up? Surely, the sock belonged to someone else.
Still, curiosity got the better of her, and she peeked inside. Small, neatly wrapped presents filled the sock, their glossy paper catching the light. She blinked, unsure what to make of it. Her first instinct was to assume there had been an error — perhaps someone had meant this for Muriel or someone else. But... her name did start with an "M."
Her lips pressed together, the thought feeling both absurd and oddly heartbreaking. Marjorie Evermore does not get presents, she thought bitterly. Shaking her head, she decided she needed help sorting this out. Maybe Ron would know.
