On Christmas morning, Hogwarts awoke beneath a thick blanket of snow, quiet and peaceful. The students staying behind gathered in the Great Hall for a lavish holiday breakfast, and the atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful. Lin Yanqing found several gifts at his seat—sweets from Ravenclaw classmates, a handwritten card from Lily Evans, and a small pouch of Gold Galleons as the system's customary reward.
His gaze swept across the Slytherin table. Snape sat alone in his usual place. Besides his breakfast, there was also that small crystal vial containing potion like liquid moonlight. He seemed to be carefully checking the stability of the liquid within. When Lin Yanqing's gaze fell on him, Snape seemed to sense it and lifted his eyes. Their gazes met briefly in midair.
There was no nod, no smile, not even the slightest ripple in his eyes. Yet in that instant, Lin Yanqing clearly caught a faint emotion through the contract, something close to "confirmation"—the steady state of mind of a researcher verifying that a project was proceeding according to plan after checking the data.
Snape quickly looked away, carefully put away the crystal vial, and continued eating in silence. He wore a well-fitted black winter robe, an incongruous silhouette amid the silver-and-green decorations and laughter around him.
After breakfast, Lin Yanqing returned to Ravenclaw Tower. By the window in the common room, he looked out over the courtyard blanketed in ice and snow, turning the small crystal vial over in his hand. The cool glass gradually took on his body heat, while the silver radiance flowing within flickered faintly as though alive.
He decided to try a little. It was not because he doubted Snape's ability, but out of respect for this unusual "return gift," as well as curiosity about its effects. He poured a drop onto the back of his hand. The cool potion quickly seeped into his skin, and a gentle yet powerful sense of calm immediately spread through his blood, smoothing over the subtle anxiety that had accumulated over the past few days from his focus on Snape's potion experiments. Even the barrier of Legilimency seemed to become more solid.
The effect was astonishing. This was absolutely not a potion an ordinary first-year student—even many upper-year students—could make.
That afternoon, it began snowing again. Lin Yanqing decided to spend some time in the library. The library was nearly deserted during the holiday, and even Madam Pince was nowhere to be seen. He walked to the area where he usually sat, only to unexpectedly find Snape already there—seated by a window, with that dark-red tome and several sheets of parchment covered in complicated calculations spread out before him. He appeared to still be continuing his research.
Hearing footsteps, Snape looked up. When he saw Lin Yanqing, he did not immediately show rejection or avert his eyes as he usually did. He merely watched him calmly with those black eyes, as if assessing something.
Lin Yanqing did not disturb him. He sat several tables away and took out a book on advanced variants of Ancient Runes to read.
In the silent library, there was only the soft rustle of falling snow outside the windows and the occasional whisper of turning pages. Each occupied his own corner without disturbing the other, yet the invisible bond between them and the open copy of the Compendium of Rare Magical Fungi on the table—Snape had apparently returned it after using it—created a strange connection between them.
After a while, an extremely faint scratching sound came from Snape's side as his quill moved across parchment. He seemed to have encountered a minor problem while writing—his ink was nearly gone, and he was trying to reach the bottom of the ink bottle with his quill to gather the remaining drops.
Without drawing attention to himself, Lin Yanqing took an unopened small bottle of Hogwarts-issued ink from his pen case and placed it at his side.
He did not hand it over. He did not even look at Snape.
A few minutes later, when Lin Yanqing got up to search the shelves for another reference book, he felt Snape's gaze settle on the bottle of ink. When he returned with the book, the ink had disappeared. In the spot where he had been sitting, there was now a small roll of parchment tied with thin string.
Lin Yanqing sat down and untied the string. The parchment still bore Snape's elegant script, but the contents were no longer counterspells or potion formulas. Instead, it contained several exceedingly complex equations and derivation steps concerning the mutual influence between emotional channels and magical power flow in contract magic. Beside them were a few brief notes pointing out several key but easily overlooked pitfalls in thought.
This was no longer simple information sharing. This was... an exchange of research insights. While exploring the nature of the bond between them, Snape had deemed this portion of his findings something Lin Yanqing might need—or be qualified to see.
He was using the only way he was skilled at and felt safe with—discussing knowledge—to maintain this connection that he both hated and could not escape.
Lin Yanqing carefully read the parchment. Some of the insights did indeed give him a deeper understanding of how the contract functioned. He picked up his quill and, in the blank space on the parchment, wrote down several observations he had made through [Magical Perception] regarding changes in the bond's magical power flow under different emotional states.
He did not return the parchment directly. Instead, he placed it on a middle shelf between their seats.
When he looked up from his book again, the roll of parchment was gone.
Outside, night fell. Snowflakes danced in the light spilling from the castle windows like glittering sprites.
It was not until Madam Pince came to urge everyone out at closing time that the two of them left the library one after the other. At the fork leading toward their respective house towers, Snape stopped with his back to Lin Yanqing. His voice sounded somewhat low in the empty corridor.
"Use that potion... sparingly."
After saying that, he did not wait for a response. He strode toward the dungeons, the hem of his black robe vanishing into the shadows of the spiral staircase.
Lin Yanqing stood where he was, feeling the emotion coming from the other end of their soul bond. It was no longer pure coldness or resistance, but a calmness focused on a long-term project—tired, yet clear in purpose.
The snow continued to fall, covering the castle and the distant mountains. This Christmas holiday held no warmth of family, no raucous gatherings. Yet for two boys caught in fate's web, this snowy night carried a different kind of cold echo because of a bottle of potion, a roll of parchment, and one stiff reminder.
He knew that when the second term arrived, the bond between them would bear more weight than ever before—weight that could not be spoken of to others.
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