our little angel

A Fractured Christmas

Age 12
Word:599
Summary: It was Christmas Time and Raven was in so much pain because of what happened

Snow fell gently outside Malfoy Manor, blanketing the vast estate in a soft white glow. Inside, the warmth of flickering fireplace flames danced along the marble floors, casting shadows that felt eerily darker this year.

Raven sat curled up in the grand sitting room, knees pulled to her chest, staring into the crackling fire. Normally, Christmas was her favorite time of year—gifts, hot cocoa, and the family she held so dear. But this time… she barely felt present.

Her body ached, a dull throbbing pain that never truly went away. It had been weeks since the Whispering Woods, but the darkness that had taken root in her was still there, lingering beneath her skin, a ghost of Voldemort’s presence.

She could feel it.

She hated it.

"Raven?"

Her mother’s voice was soft, cautious.

Lola knelt beside her, brushing a gentle hand through Raven’s dark curls. But Raven didn’t move, didn’t lean into her touch like she usually did. Her small fingers just clutched at the fabric of her sleeves, nails digging into her skin.

Lola sighed, her heart breaking at the sight of her daughter withdrawing more and more each day. She exchanged a worried glance with Mattheo, who stood nearby, arms crossed tightly over his chest, helplessness evident in his eyes.

“We were going to open presents soon,” Lola tried again, her voice warm but laced with quiet concern. “You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it, sweetheart, but—”

“I don’t want to,” Raven muttered, barely above a whisper.

Mattheo frowned, stepping closer. “Raven, I know things have been… hard, but maybe—”

“I don’t want to,” she repeated, sharper this time.

A tense silence followed.

Lola and Mattheo exchanged another glance before Draco stepped into the room, his presence commanding as always. He said nothing at first, simply watching his niece with those sharp, observant eyes. Then, without a word, he strode forward, sat beside her on the couch, and nudged her lightly with his elbow.

She didn’t react.

He nudged her again.

“…Uncle Draco,” she sighed.

“There she is.” He smirked slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. Brooding doesn’t suit you.”

Raven huffed but didn’t argue.

Draco leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the fire. “You know, when your mother and I were kids, we got into some terrible situations. Curses, hexes, fights we barely crawled out of.”

Lola shot him a look. “That is not helping, Draco.”

He ignored her. “I know what it feels like to carry something dark inside of you,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “To feel like no matter what, it’ll always be there.”

Raven’s fingers twitched slightly. “Did it ever go away?”

Draco hesitated, then shook his head. “Not really.”

Raven’s heart sank.

“But,” Draco added, his gaze locking onto hers, “it didn’t control me. And it won’t control you either.”

Raven swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “It hurts,” she admitted, her voice small. “It’s always there. Even when I sleep.”

Draco’s expression softened. “Then we fight it. Together.”

A tear slipped down Raven’s cheek, but this time, she didn’t wipe it away.

Lola reached out again, and this time, Raven let her. She let her mother pull her into a warm, safe embrace.

Mattheo sat on her other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

And for the first time in weeks, the darkness didn’t feel so suffocating.

Maybe, just maybe… she wouldn’t have to fight it alone.