Before Christmas (2), Also an Extra Because It Was Moved Up for the Plot

In the blink of an eye, the holiday arrived.

A thin layer of frost had formed on the windows of the Slytherin dormitory. The fire in the fireplace had burned all night, and the logs had turned into dark red embers, still giving off their last bit of warmth. Su Yu pulled the blankets up to his chin and curled up beneath them. Sister Fa 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 held Sister Fa as they lay in bed. He could not be bothered to get up, and Sister Fa happened to be enjoying the warmth between them too. It would have been even better if Nine-Tailed Fox had not come out. The little fox had started shouting about being hungry first thing in the morning and demanding cheesecake!

Nine-Tailed Fox crouched at the foot of the bed and pushed Su Yu's foot with her paw.

"Get up," Nine-Tailed Fox said. "I want cheesecake."

"Go to the kitchen yourself," Su Yu muttered from beneath the blankets.

"I can't get out. The door's closed."

"You know how to open doors."

"I don't."

"You opened the door with your tail last time."

Nine-Tailed Fox's tail stiffened for a moment, then curled back. "...That was an accident."

Su Yu stretched a hand out from beneath the blankets and patted Sister Fa on the shoulder. "Sister Fa, get me my wand."

With her eyes closed, Sister Fa felt around the bedside table twice, found Su Yu's wand, and handed it to him. She seemed not to have fully woken up yet. When her fingers brushed his palm, they felt cool.

Su Yu took the wand, sat up from beneath the blankets, and gave it a wave.

With a pop, a house-elf appeared at the foot of the bed. He wore a clean tea towel embroidered with a tiny Egg Beater design. His ears drooped like a bat's, and his eyes were as large as brass bells. He gave Su Yu a deep bow, his nose nearly touching the floor.

"Egg Beater is at your service, Master Su-Fuli!" His voice was shrill, but full of enthusiasm.

Leaning against the headboard, Su Yu said to Sister Fa, "I put a bell in the kitchen. Whenever it rings, he'll come to me. Oh, and his name is Egg Beater. No idea who gave him that name, but it's pretty funny. Just tell him whatever you two want, and he'll get it for you."

Nine-Tailed Fox was the first to leap up. Standing on the bed, she shouted loudly enough to shake the entire dormitory, "I want ten cheesecakes! I'm going to eat my fill today anyway, since we're not going out!"

Egg Beater bowed. "They will be delivered immediately, Miss Nine-Tailed Fox!"

Sister Fa sat up beneath the blankets, her hair a mess and sleep still clinging to her face. She thought for a moment, then said, "Anything is fine."

Su Yu stated what he wanted as well.

Egg Beater bowed to them again, then vanished with a pop. A few seconds later, he reappeared with another pop, carrying an enormous tray piled with food—ten cheesecakes stacked high like a small mountain; Sister Fa's fried eggs and toast on a silver plate, accompanied by a steaming cup of fresh milk; and Su Yu's cheeseburger and hot soup arranged neatly on the other side.

Nine-Tailed Fox pounced on the cheesecakes, plunging headfirst into the one at the top. Her eating habits were as unrestrained as ever. Caramel sauce stuck to the tip of her nose, while crumbs flew from the corners of her mouth and landed on the bedsheets. Sister Fa held her eggs and toast, leaning against the headboard as she ate in small bites, occasionally glancing at Su Yu.

After the two finished breakfast, they lay back down and began whispering to each other. Nine-Tailed Fox had eaten three cheesecakes, her belly round and full as she sprawled at the foot of the bed, her eyes half-open as she mumbled, "One more piece."

Sister Fa lay on her side, supporting her head with one hand while the other drew circles on Su Yu's chest. As she continued, the circles turned into writing. She wrote her name—Gemma Farley—stroke by stroke, slowly.

The drawing made Su Yu itch, so he grabbed her hand.

"Stop drawing."

"Why?" The corners of Sister Fa's lips lifted, and her eyes gleamed.

"It tickles."

Sister Fa 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 got out of bed, Nine-Tailed Fox was still asleep. Her belly faced upward, and all four paws were curled. Su Yu did not wake her. He covered her with a small blanket, then washed up and changed clothes with Sister Fa before leaving the dormitory.

The Slytherin common room was especially quiet on a holiday afternoon. The fire in the fireplace burned brightly, warming the entire hall. 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 beside the fireplace, holding a cup of black tea with a magazine spread before him. His posture was elegant, his back straight, his long legs crossed. One hand held the teacup while the other turned the pages. He wore a finely tailored black robe with a silver brooch at the collar, and his hair was combed impeccably.

Su Yu walked over and sat beside him. Sister Fa sat next to Su Yu, picked up a magazine from the coffee table, and flipped through it casually.

"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, every movement respectful and elegant, perfectly measured.

"Esteemed Chief," Blaise said in a low, steady voice, "Theodore went out at noon. He has probably figured out his feelings by now. He should be out on a date this afternoon."

Ever since Su Yu had demonstrated his strength and given that speech, Blaise had become a little fanboy. He was no longer that vain, arrogant, conceited person. Though he was still proud now, he had learned to confront his own heart, his family, and most importantly, his mother. He occasionally still said things like, "You are not worthy of my gaze," but he would laugh at himself afterward.

Su Yu's eyes lit up as he slung an arm around Blaise's shoulders. "Want to go sneak a look? You free?"

Blaise tilted his head slightly and glanced at Su Yu.

"As you wish, Chief," Blaise said. He did not understand what there was to sneak a look at...

Su Yu patted him on the back. "You don't have to be so formal, Blaise. You know what I'm like."

Blaise said nothing. He stood up, placed his black tea on the coffee table, closed the magazine, straightened his robe collar, and stood to one side waiting for Su Yu.

Su Yu could only lead Blaise and Sister Fa outside the castle.

Hogwarts Castle looked entirely different in winter. The snow had stopped, but the sky remained gray. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest was blanketed in thick snow, its branches drooping as the canopies merged into a white sea.

They followed the path along Black Lake, the snow crunching beneath their feet.

It was still the place where Theodore had met Olivia—the large fir tree by Black Lake.

The fir stood on a small slope along the shore, its trunk thick and its crown enormous. Snow had piled deep upon its branches. Two young wizards sat in the snow beneath it.

The three of them hid behind an oak tree some distance away.

Theodore and Olivia sat beneath that fir tree.

They did not seem to mind the cold at all. They were embracing as they quietly watched the lake, their bodies pressed together beneath a thick blanket.

A fire crackled beside them. Next to it sat a basket Olivia had brought, filled with hot chocolate and biscuits. The hot chocolate still steamed, white mist curling above the cups in the cold air, while the biscuit tin's lid sat half-open.

They simply held each other in silence.

Theodore knew how difficult it would be for them to be together. But he slowly began telling Olivia his story. Theodore's story.

Beneath the fir tree, the fire crackled.

Theodore Nott leaned against the rough trunk, Olivia held in his arms. His gaze rested on the frozen surface of Black Lake, yet he saw nothing. Too many things churned through his mind, as if someone had poured an entire bucket of ice water into it, freezing him until he trembled all over. Yet it also felt as though someone had lit a fire inside him, burning every part of him with pain.

Olivia leaned against his chest without speaking. Her hair brushed against his chin, tickling him, carrying a faint soap scent like freshly washed clothes. Her breathing was soft and slow, her chest rising and falling like a small animal curled inside its nest.

Theodore knew how difficult it would be for them to be together.

He began telling Olivia slowly, but he was not telling a story about "me." He was telling the story of someone called Theodore Nott. As if separating those things from himself would make them hurt less when he spoke of them.

The Nott family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. They took pride in their pure blood. Their ancestors had produced many great figures, and quite a few... less honorable ones. Theodore Nott was the Nott family's sole heir of the 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 were warm. Whenever he cried, she would pick him up and wipe away his tears with her slender fingers. He also remembered her singing. Whenever he could not sleep, she would sit beside 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.

While He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still around, his father had followed him. After that man fell for the first time, 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 its cover, and its pages had been worn fuzzy from constant turning. He had also found an old photograph in his father's desk drawer. The people in the photograph wore long 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 what it meant to accept his fate. At countless banquets, he had to hold his head high and maintain the poise 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—not too tight, not too weak. His voice had to be steady—not too loud, not too soft.

His father had taught him all of it. The second year after his mother died, his father summoned him to the study and made him stand before a mirror to practice his expressions. Smile again. Wrong. Smile again. Speak. Too quiet. Speak again. Stand straight. Do not let your shoulders slump. A five-year-old child stood before a mirror, practicing over and over how to become a proper Nott.

During those years, all kinds of people constantly came and went through the house. They wore hoods and kept their voices low whenever they spoke, as though plotting something. They never came during the day, always in the dead of night. Footsteps would emerge from the fireplace, green flames flashing as someone appeared. They gathered in his father's study, its door tightly shut so that not even a sliver of light could escape. Theodore would sometimes wake in the middle of the night and hear low voices downstairs, along with the occasional sharp laugh, like glass being scratched apart.

He knew.

Others did not know how much he had borne that no child his age should have had to bear. They only saw the Nott boy, quiet and withdrawn, like a block of wood. They did not know that the curve of his smile at banquets had taken countless practices to perfect. They did not know that every time he saw an owl fly past the window, his heart would tighten—was that a letter from his father?

All he wanted was the company of a family member, someone who understood and encouraged him. But for him, that was an impossible wish. His mother was gone, and his father spent longer and longer locked in the study, sometimes not coming out for an entire day.

Theodore always ate alone at the long dining table. The silverware gleamed coldly beneath the candlelight. The food was warm, but it tasted like nothing in his mouth.

He had thought his entire life would be like that. Following his father's arrangements, growing up to become a Death Eater just like him. He had no spare emotion to think about that thing he longed for yet could never reach—until he met Olivia.

The girl who drew beneath the tree. The girl who called him Little Theo. 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 steal a few tastes of that sweetness, yet felt terrified. He was not used to being cared for, not used to someone caring about him, not used to someone sitting quietly beside him when he fell silent instead of forcing him to talk. He did not know whether he deserved such care, whether he could give her anything, or whether he would one day become just like his father.

So during that time, he began resisting Olivia's concern. He himself was adrift. How could he give someone else a promise called eternity?

He avoided her. He sat in the last row during class, left the classroom first after class, and whenever he saw her approaching from afar in the corridor, he turned and took another route. He did not reply to her letters, did not accept the biscuits she offered him, and did not respond when she called him Little Theo. He thought that would make her give up. He thought she would find someone more normal.

But she did not.

She still sat beneath that tree and drew. She still looked up at him whenever he passed, the corners of her lips lifting slightly before she lowered her head and continued drawing. She still waited for him beneath the fir tree on weekends, bringing a pot of hot chocolate and a tin of butter biscuits, sitting on a blanket with a book in her hands, waiting for him to come.

She never asked why he avoided her, nor did she ask why he never replied to her letters. She was simply there, unchanging through every season like that fir tree.

It was not until the Chief's words that he understood his own heart. And because of the Chief's power, he saw hope for the future. He would no longer walk that road of no return. He would not be like his father, betting everything on a mad Dark Lord. He had his own choices now, his own judgment, his own path to walk.

Theodore paused there. The wood in the fire had nearly burned out, so he bent down and added a dry branch. The flames licked at the new wood with a hiss before blazing up again.

Olivia did not say a word from beginning to end. She simply leaned against him, her fingers interlaced with his as her thumb softly traced circles across the back of his hand. Once, twice, slow and gentle.

Snow still drifted across the lake.

Theodore did not continue.

After Olivia heard him finish, she sat up from his arms and turned to face him.

Her eyes were red, tiny tears clinging to her lashes and glimmering in the firelight.

"Little Theo."

"Mm."

"Do you know?" Olivia's voice sounded beside his ear. "I don't care about Death Eaters. I don't care about glory, either."

She reached out and cupped Theodore's face. Her fingers rested against his cheeks, cool but gentle.

"I knew already. I knew what your family was like." She spoke one word at a time. "I don't care about any of it."

"I just want to tell you," Olivia said. Her tears finally fell, rolling down her cheeks one after another. Yet her smile did not change. It remained warm and sweet. "If one day, or if that day truly comes, and your wand is pointed at me, you must remember—I liked you beneath this fir tree."

"I liked you in Hogwarts Castle."

"Oh, or... right at this very second, I like you most of all!"

Theodore said nothing. 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 others did nothing. They simply left quietly.

The three of them walked back toward the castle along the lake. It was nearly dark now. Warm yellow light shone from the castle windows, casting square patches of light over the snow.

Blaise walked at the front, taking long strides, the hem of his robe dragging a long trail through the snow.

"So melodramatic," Blaise suddenly said.

Su Yu looked at him.

"What love and affection?" Blaise did not turn around, his voice drifting through the cold wind. "How much is it worth? It's just two people getting what they want. 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.

Sister Fa walked beside Su Yu and looped her arm through his. Su Yu glanced at her, but she did not look back. Her gaze rested on the castle ahead, the corners of her lips slightly raised. Her fingers lightly tapped his arm twice, a small gesture she only made when she was in a good mood.

When they entered the castle, the lights in the entrance hall had already been lit. The huge oak doors were shut, blocking out the cold wind. The air inside was warm and dry, carrying the scent of candles and pine needles. The holly wreaths on the walls gleamed in the candlelight, their red berries like tiny jewels.

Standing in the entrance hall and watching the sky gradually darken outside, Su Yu suddenly thought of something.

With Christmas approaching, he had not prepared gifts for anyone. But now, he knew what to give them.

He really had not thought of anything before. He had originally planned not to give anything at all. Su Yu was fully capable of doing something like that—he was from Eastern University, after all, and did not celebrate Christmas in the first place. God, you say? Oh, my friend, how many combined brigades does God have? But if you want to talk about the God of Wealth, then sit down and let's have a chat. That was Su Yu.

Sister Fa's hand rested in his palm, cool to the touch.