xi.

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notes;

After being in the hospital wing for another day, and Ernie getting over his little fit, the weeks flew by extremely fast, and Christmas was approaching.

It was my least favorite time of year.

Maybe it was because our family dynamic was awful.

My Mother hates me. I don't act "ladylike" enough for her, and somehow, something is always wrong with my posture, or how I put my sentences together. She definitely plays favorites; Ernie is her golden child, every thing he does is praised. My Father on the other hand, I was his golden child. And Ernie, was not. Ernie was always doing the littlest things wrong, and my father hated him for it. We weren't abused or anything, just emotionally hurt. Most pureblood families run the same way, there is always a favorite between siblings. Except for the Weasleys. I would give anything to spend Christmas at the Burrow. 

I just don't like family.

The snow littering the grass and the trees, the food waiting for you on the table, the red hue that illuminates the halls, the ornaments and garland hanging from the stairs, is really beautiful.

That's why I spend Christmas at Hogwarts.

It's December now, and the next Hogsmeade trip is tomorrow. I couldn't wait to go back.

. * . * . * . * .

At Hogsmeade, I avoided Zonko's at all costs. I didn't need to bump into the twins and land myself back in detention.

We spent most of our time in Honeyduke's, and the rest of of the time gift shopping.

Walking around in the freezing cold, the snowflakes dusting our hair, we passed a shop that was way off the beaten path. We opened the door as the shops rusty bells rang. It was a dark brown inside, with tiny intricate patterns on the wall. Rows of tiny jewelry and books I've never heard of laid lifelessly on the tables.

"I don't think-" Susan started.

"Shush. If you don't like it, leave."

Her and Hannah looked at each other and then back at me.

"Fine." Susan stated, trying to be aggressive, but failing. They left.

I picked up a book with a gold cover, and it looked like it had been through hell and back, tattered with dirt. I opened it to see the first page. 

"H.H."

I furrowed my brows in confusion.

I've heard those initials before.

I turned the page and it sounded like it hadn't been opened in centuries. The books pages were once written with pristine handwriting, but most of it had been written over, but with sloppier handwriting.

The floorboards creaked. I looked up and saw a lady in her late forties. She had chestnut brown hair, that looked like it hadn't been brushed in a week, and her eyes were a deep brown, almost colorless.

"Um, what is this?"

"Something that would be of use to you."

I hate riddles.

"Like..?"

She took it and opened it to the 14th page, handed it back to me, and pointed to the bottom of it.

"Macmillan."

I looked at her in shock. 

"All yours if you want it. No charge." She smiled

"Thank you." I smiled back.

She lowered her voice. "Come back next trip, there are more intriguing things in this shop."

I nodded.

"Thank you again." I said as I walked back out into the snow.

Stunned, I walked into Hannah, and jumped at the contact. "Sorry."

"Did you get anything?" She asked, clearly eager.

"Nothing important."

She looked disappointed, and dropped it.

We walked back to the castle and headed to dinner.

As we sat down, we started talking about what we got, when a paper butterfly landed on my plate, with a a white tulip attached to it. It was useless looking around seeing as everyone was sitting down. I opened it.

"This won't be the only one from me."

-admirer from afar

I couldn't help but smile at it. I could tell it was picked that day.

But how?

There's snow on the ground.

"Oi! Whatcha got, Ley?" Justin said, trying read the note over my shoulder.

"It's none of your business." I smirked and stuck my tongue out at him, as I shoved the note back in my pocket.

I went back to eating my dinner, grinning like an idiot.

a/n; okay so this is short but i wanted to update. i might not update for awhile bc yk, thanksgiving? and im behind on hw. so if i dont update, thats why. okay love yall.

YOURS TRULY,  theodore nott (on hold)Where stories live. Discover now