the hallows - f. weasley

- f r o m - t h e - v a u l t - 1 -

(12.25/26.24)

a/n

sorry this is like forty minutes after the end of Christmas. this is a lil Christmas present for all of you readers – as a thank you for sticking with me this year while i was publishing all of the things. (also this is a lil post saying that as i am inspired and whatnot, i will post lil blurbs even tho hilton is done at the moment)

i hope your day was magical!

whenever you read this, i hope you have an good morning/afternoon/evening/night!

see you around!

~gwenlee

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∆ First Married Christmas ∆

Anything and everything that could have been going wrong was.

    And Gemma was on her last leg.

    It was her and Fred's first Christmas as a married couple, and all she wanted to do was give them the most magical and memorable holiday. She had everything planned out and ready to execute until she had completely demolished an entire month's worth of hair potions that had been brewing in the kitchen of Shell Cottage, which Bill and Fleur had lent to them until they finished some business overseas. They were going to be gone for a long time, so Fleur came up with the brilliant idea of having the couple live there and take care of the property. 

    Gemma had been hesitant at first–not wanting to remember all the hard things that happened there, but in the end, Fred had helped her work through those emotions, and the two of them moved in about two weeks later.

    But now, she was by herself–staring at the mess of potions all over the floor. Fixing broken glass was one thing, but there was no way in hell she could recover the expensive amount of wasted ingredients and sparkling elixirs all over the floor.

    She had been developing a new line of potions that lasted far longer than the usual ones during her free time at Hogwarts while she taught as the resident potions professor. Gemma had barely been able to get everything back to Shell Cottage in one piece while she chauffeured students back to King's Cross and got herself home. It had taken her months and so much money–even with the money she made from teaching and selling products regularly–to get what she needed.

    But now it was destroyed.

    Eyes filling with tears, Gemma slowly knelt down and started to gather the glass.

    She hardly noticed as the glass cut her fingers and palms–tears blurring her vision as she tried not to cry too loudly even though no one could hear her.

    This was not what she needed.

    This was the last thing she needed.

    She had already had a rough night of night terrors and had hardly been able to pull herself out of bed after waking up alone.

    Being Christmas time, Fred worked longer hours–desperate to be home on Christmas Eve and Day.

    So, for the last week or so, Gemma had been suffering alone–not wanting to bother anyone with the heaviness that was her own brain space. She would put all the emotions in a little box and tuck it away–saying to herself she would deal with it all later.

    But she was starting to wonder if that was even true at this point.

    The glass cutting her hands as she tossed it out was pushing her to the point of implosion. And when she moved to the sink to rinse her hands and fill up a bowl of water to clean the floor (unfortunately forgetting that she was, in fact, a witch), she could feel the box breaking.