In the blink of an eye, the holiday arrived.
A thin layer of frost had formed on the Slytherin dormitory windows. The fire in the fireplace had burned all night, and the logs had become dark-red embers, still giving off their last bit of warmth. Su Yu pulled the blanket up to his chin and curled up beneath it. Fa-jie lay beside him, her long black wavy hair spread across the pillow, one hand resting on his chest as she breathed softly and slowly.
Su Yu lay on the bed with Fa-jie in his arms. He could not be bothered to get up, and Fa-jie was enjoying the warmth between them too. It would have been even better if Kurama had not come out. The little fox had been shouting about being hungry since early morning and demanded cheesecake!
Kurama crouched at the foot of the bed, pushing Su Yu's foot with her paw.
"Get up," Kurama said. "I want cheesecake."
"Go to the kitchen yourself," Su Yu muttered from under the blanket.
"I can't get out. The door's closed."
"You can open doors."
"I can't."
"You opened the door with your tail last time."
Kurama's tail stiffened for a moment before curling back. "...That was an accident."
Su Yu reached a hand out from beneath the blanket and patted Fa-jie's shoulder. "Fa-jie, get my wand for me."
Fa-jie kept her eyes closed and felt around the bedside table. She found Su Yu's wand and handed it to him. She seemed not to be fully awake yet, and when her fingers touched his palm, they were cool.
Su Yu took the wand, sat up from beneath the blanket, and gave it a wave.
With a crack, a House-elf appeared at the foot of the bed. He wore a clean tea towel embroidered with a tiny Egg Beater design. His bat-like ears drooped, and his eyes were as large as two brass bells. He gave Su Yu a deep bow, his nose nearly touching the floor.
"Egg Beater is at Master Su-Fuli's service!" His voice was shrill, but enthusiastic.
Leaning against the headboard, Su Yu said to Fa-jie, "I put a bell in the kitchen. Whenever it rings, he'll come to me. Oh, and his name is Egg Beater. I have no idea who came up with it, but it's pretty interesting. Just tell him whatever you two want, and he'll get it for you."
Kurama was the first to leap up. Standing on the bed, she shouted loudly enough to shake the whole dormitory, "I want ten cheesecakes! I'm going to eat my fill today since we're not going anywhere anyway!"
Egg Beater bowed. "They will be delivered immediately, Miss Kurama!"
Fa-jie sat up beneath the blanket, her hair a mess and sleep still lingering on her face. After thinking for a moment, she said, "Anything is fine."
Su Yu stated what he wanted as well.
Egg Beater bowed to them both again, then vanished with another crack. A few seconds later, he reappeared with a huge tray in his hands, piled high with food—ten cheesecakes stacked into a little mountain; Fa-jie's fried eggs and toast on a silver plate, with a steaming cup of fresh milk beside them; and Su Yu's cheeseburger and hot soup arranged neatly on the other side.
Kurama pounced on the cheesecakes and plunged headfirst into the one on top. Her table manners were as bold as ever. Caramel sauce stuck to the tip of her nose, while crumbs flew from around her mouth and landed on the sheets. Holding her fried eggs and toast, Fa-jie leaned against the headboard and ate in small bites, occasionally glancing at Su Yu.
After the two finished breakfast, they lay back down and began whispering to each other again. Kurama had eaten three cheesecakes, her belly round and full as she sprawled at the foot of the bed with her eyes half-open, still muttering, "One more piece."
Fa-jie lay on her side, supporting her head with one hand while the other traced circles over Su Yu's chest. As she went on, the circles turned into writing. She wrote her name—Gemma Farley—stroke by stroke, slowly and carefully.
Her tracing made Su Yu itch, and he caught her hand.
"Stop drawing."
"Why?" Fa-jie's lips curled upward, light gleaming in her eyes.
"It tickles."
Fa-jie laughed, pulled her hand free, rolled over, and lay on her back staring at the ceiling.
It was not until the afternoon that the two of them finally got up.
When Su Yu climbed out of bed, Kurama was still asleep. She lay belly-up, all four legs curled in. Yu did not wake her. He covered her with a small blanket, then washed up and changed clothes with Fa-jie before leaving the dormitory.
The Slytherin Common Room was especially quiet on that holiday afternoon. The fire in the fireplace burned brightly, filling the entire lounge with warmth. A few people sat scattered across the dark-green sofas and silver chairs.
Su Yu spotted Blaise Zabini in the common room.
Blaise sat in an armchair by the fireplace, holding a cup of black tea with a magazine spread out before him. His posture was elegant, back straight, long legs crossed. One hand held the teacup while the other turned the pages. He wore a well-tailored black robe with a silver brooch pinned at the collar, his hair combed flawlessly into place.
Su Yu walked over and sat beside him. Fa-jie sat next to Su Yu, picked up a magazine from the coffee table, and flipped through it idly.
"Blaise," Su Yu said, "where has Theodore been these past few days? Haven't seen him around."
Blaise set down the magazine and turned to face Su Yu. He rose and gave a slight bow, respectful and elegant, every movement perfectly measured.
"Honored Prefect," Blaise said in a low, steady voice, "Theodore went out at noon. He has probably figured out his feelings these past few days. He is likely on a date this afternoon."
Ever since Su Yu had displayed his strength and given that speech, Blaise had become a little fanboy. He was no longer as vain, arrogant, and self-important as before. He was still proud now, but he had learned to face his own heart, his family, and most importantly, his mother. He still occasionally said things like, "You are not worthy of my gaze," but he would laugh at himself afterward.
Su Yu's eyes lit up. Throwing an arm over Blaise's shoulder, he said, "How about we sneak over and take a look? You free?"
Blaise tilted his head slightly and looked at Su Yu.
"As you wish, Honored Prefect," Blaise said. He did not understand what was worth spying on about this...
Su Yu patted him on the back. "You don't need to be so formal, Blaise. You know what I'm like."
Blaise said nothing. He stood, set his black tea on the coffee table, closed the magazine, adjusted his robe collar, and waited at the side for Su Yu.
Su Yu could only bring Blaise and Fa-jie outside the castle.
Hogwarts Castle looked completely different in winter. The snow had stopped, but the sky remained gray and overcast. The distant Forbidden Forest was blanketed in thick snow, its drooping branches and canopies joining together into a white sea.
They followed the path along Black Lake, the snow crunching beneath their feet.
It was the same place where Theodore had met Olivia—the great fir tree by Black Lake.
The fir stood on a small slope by the shore, its trunk thick and its crown enormous. Snow had already piled heavily on its branches. Two young wizards sat in the snow beneath it.
The three of them hid behind an oak tree not far away.
Theodore and Olivia were sitting beneath that fir tree.
They did not seem to mind the cold at all. They were embracing quietly as they looked out at the lake, their bodies pressed together beneath a thick blanket.
A campfire crackled beside them, and next to it sat a basket Olivia had brought. It contained hot chocolate and biscuits. Steam still rose from the hot chocolate, white mist curling into the cold air above the cups, while the biscuit tin sat half-open.
They simply held each other in silence.
Theodore knew how difficult it would be for them to be together. But little by little, he began telling Olivia his story. Theodore's story.
Beneath the fir tree, the campfire crackled.
Theodore Nott leaned against the rough trunk, Olivia in his arms. His eyes rested on the frozen surface of Black Lake, but he did not see any of it. Too many things churned in his mind, as though someone had dumped an entire bucket of ice water into his head, leaving him shivering with cold—and as though someone had lit a fire inside him, burning every part of him with pain.
Olivia leaned quietly against his chest. Her hair brushed against his chin, ticklish, carrying a faint soapy scent like freshly washed clothes. Her breathing was soft and slow, her chest rising and falling like a small animal curled up in its nest.
Theodore knew how difficult it would be for them to be together.
He spoke to Olivia slowly, but he was not talking about "me." He was telling the story of someone named "Theodore Nott." As if separating those events from himself would make them hurt less when he spoke them aloud.
The Nott family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. They took pride in their pure bloodline. Their ancestors had produced many great figures, as well as many... less honorable ones. Theodore Nott was the sole heir of the Nott family's next generation. His mother had died when he was very young—so young that he could barely remember her face. He only remembered that her hands had been warm. Whenever he cried, she would lift him into her arms and wipe away his tears with her slender fingers. He remembered her singing too. Whenever he could not sleep, she would sit by his bed and softly hum a song. He did not know what the song was called. After she was gone, no one ever hummed it again.
His father was a Death Eater.
Back when the one whose name could not be spoken was still around, his father had followed him. After that man's first downfall, his father escaped trial by claiming he had been controlled by the Imperius Curse. But Theodore knew the truth. He had seen that book in his father's study—the Dark Mark was imprinted on it, and its pages were worn and frayed from constant turning. He had also found an old photograph in his father's desk drawer. The people in it wore robes and hoods, standing in a semicircle. The person in the middle had no face, only a pair of red eyes.
Theodore put the photograph back and never opened that drawer again.
As the next head of the Nott family, he had learned from a young age what it meant to disguise himself and accept his fate. At countless banquets, he had to hold his head high and maintain the bearing expected of a Nott heir. No matter what he thought inside, his face could not reveal anything. His smile had to be just right—not too warm, not too cold. His handshake had to be firm but not tight, loose but not weak. When he spoke, his voice had to be steady—not too loud, not too soft.
His father had taught him all of that. In the second year after his mother died, his father called him into the study and made him stand before a mirror to practice expressions. Smile again. Wrong. Smile again. Speak. Your voice is too quiet. Say it again. Stand straight. Do not let your shoulders slump. A five-year-old child stood before a mirror, practicing over and over how to be a proper Nott.
During those years, all kinds of people constantly came and went through the house. They wore hoods and lowered their voices when they spoke, as if plotting something. They never came during the day, only in the dead of night. Footsteps would emerge from the fireplace, green flames would flash, and someone would appear. They gathered in his father's study, the door shut tight enough that not even a sliver of light escaped. Theodore sometimes woke in the middle of the night to low voices downstairs, accompanied now and then by one or two shrill laughs, like the sound of glass being scratched open.
He knew.
No one else knew how much he had endured that no child his age should have had to bear. They only saw the quiet, withdrawn Nott boy, someone who barely spoke, like a wooden puppet. They did not know how many times he had practiced to create the curve of his lips whenever he smiled at a banquet. They did not know that every time he saw an owl fly past the window, his heart tightened—was it a letter from his father?
All he wanted was the company of family, someone who understood him and encouraged him. But to him, even that was an impossible luxury. His mother was gone, and his father spent longer and longer shut away in his study, sometimes not coming out for an entire day.
Theodore always ate alone at the long dining table. The silver cutlery glinted coldly in the candlelight. The food was hot, but it had no taste in his mouth.
He had thought his life would continue like that forever. Following his father's arrangements, he would grow up and become a Death Eater like him. He had no spare emotions to think about that unattainable thing he longed for—until he met Olivia.
The girl who painted beneath the tree. The girl who called him "Little Theodore." The girl who pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and asked whether he was sick. Like a child who had never tasted candy before, he quietly tried to draw a little sweetness from her, yet felt frightened at the same time. He was not used to being cared for, not used to someone being concerned about him, not used to someone sitting quietly beside him when he was silent instead of forcing him to speak. He did not know whether he deserved that care. He did not know what he could give her. He did not know whether he would someday become like his father.
So during that time, he began resisting Olivia's concern. He was adrift himself—how could he offer another person a promise called eternity?
He avoided her. During class, he sat in the back row. After class, he was the first to leave the room. Whenever he saw her approaching from far down a corridor, he turned and took another way. He did not answer her letters, did not accept the biscuits she offered him, and did not respond when she called him "Little Theodore." He thought she would give up that way. He thought she would find someone more normal.
But she did not.
She still sat beneath that tree and painted. Whenever he passed by, she still looked up at him, let the corner of her mouth lift, then lowered her head and continued drawing. On weekends, she still waited beneath the fir tree with a pot of hot chocolate and a tin of butter biscuits. She sat on a blanket, turning the pages of a book, waiting for him to come.
She never asked why he avoided her, nor did she ask why he did not answer her letters. She was simply there, like that fir tree, unchanged through all four seasons.
It was not until the Prefect's words that he understood his own heart. And because of the Prefect's power, he had seen hope for the future. He would not take that road of no return. He would not be like his father and stake everything on a mad Dark Lord. He had his own choices now, his own judgment, and his own path to walk.
Theodore paused there. The logs in the fire had nearly burned out, so he bent down and added a dry branch. The flames licked at the fresh wood with a hiss before blazing up again.
Olivia had not spoken from beginning to end. She merely leaned against him, their fingers interlocked, her thumb gently tracing circles over the back of his hand. Again and again, slow and soft.
Snow still drifted over the lake.
Theodore did not continue.
After listening to him, Olivia sat up from his embrace and turned to face him.
Her eyes were red, tiny tears clinging to her lashes and glimmering in the firelight.
"Little Theodore."
"Mm."
"Do you know?" Olivia's voice sounded beside his ear. "I don't care about Death Eaters, and I don't care about glory."
She reached out and cupped Theodore's face. Her fingers rested against his cheeks, cool but gentle.
"I knew a long time ago. I knew what things were like in your family." She spoke each word clearly. "I don't care about any of it."
"I just want to tell you," Olivia said. At last, tears rolled down her cheeks one after another, but her smile did not change. It remained warm and sweet. "If one day—or if that day truly comes—your wand is pointed at me, remember this: beneath this fir tree, I liked you."
"Inside Hogwarts Castle, I liked you."
"Oh, or... right at this very second, I like you the most!"
Theodore did not speak. He reached out, pulled Olivia into his arms, and held her tightly. He buried his face in her hair, his shoulders trembling faintly.
After hearing everything, Su Yu and the other two did nothing. They simply left quietly.
The three of them walked back toward the castle along the lakeshore. Night was nearly falling, and warm yellow light shone from the castle windows, casting square patches across the snow.
Blaise walked at the front with long strides, the hem of his robe dragging a long trail through the snow.
"So sentimental," Blaise suddenly said.
Su Yu looked at him.
"What love and romance?" Blaise did not look back, his voice drifting through the cold wind. "How much is it worth? When both sides agree to it, they are only getting what they need. Today they say they like you; tomorrow they might like someone else. Today they say forever; tomorrow it becomes the past."
Su Yu shook his head helplessly.
This guy was beyond saving.
Fa-jie walked beside Su Yu and looped her arm through his. Su Yu turned to look at her, but Fa-jie did not look back. Her gaze rested on the castle ahead, the corners of her lips lifting faintly. Her fingers tapped twice against his arm, a small habit she only had when she was in a good mood.
By the time they entered the castle, the entrance hall was already lit. The enormous oak doors were closed, keeping out the cold wind. The air inside was warm and dry, carrying the scent of candles and pine needles. Holly wreaths hanging on the walls gleamed in the candlelight, their red berries like little jewels.
Standing in the entrance hall, Su Yu looked at the darkening sky outside and suddenly thought of something.
With Christmas approaching, he had not prepared gifts for anyone—but now he knew what to give them.
He truly had not figured it out before and had originally planned not to give anyone anything. Su Yu was fully capable of doing something like that—he was from East University, after all, and did not celebrate Christmas in the first place. God, you say? Oh, my friend, how many combined brigades did God have? But if you wanted to talk about the God of Wealth? Then they could sit down and have a proper chat. That was Su Yu.
Fa-jie's hand rested in his palm, cool to the touch.
Before you continue