Christmas was closing in, and Eleanor's anxiety grew with each passing day. She had convinced herself that if her parents didn't write to her before the break, she would return home to plead her case in person. The thought of facing them filled her with dread, but she couldn't bear the silence any longer.

Just when she began to believe that her parents had forgotten her, Errol, the Weasley family's elderly owl, swooped into the dormitory and dropped a letter onto her bed. The owl then promptly relieved itself, leaving a mess on the bedspread.

"Karma," Eleanor muttered bitterly.

Daphne, ever the practical one, drew her wand and with a quick flick, cleaned up the mess. "Don't just stare at it, El," she urged gently. "Open it."

Eleanor's hands trembled as she tore open the envelope, her heart racing with anticipation. As she unfolded the letter, she steeled herself for the worst.

"Read it aloud," Daphne nudged, sensing her friend's hesitation.

Eleanor took a shaky breath, and began to read, her voice wavering.

"Eleanor,

I'm sure by now you know what this letter is about. Regarding your relationship with Draco Malfoy, your father and I, and all of your siblings for that matter, do not feel comfortable with you returning home for Christmas.

In fact, we think it's best if you are to stay away from The Burrow indefinitely. Maybe one day we will be able to make amends, but for now, you have made your bed and you will lie in it. I truly hope Draco Malfoy is worth it and that he makes you happy because I am not.

I am extremely disappointed in you. You were raised better than this, Eleanor Matilda Weasley.

Mum."

The letter slipped from Eleanor's hands, fluttering down to the floor like a leaf in the wind. For a moment, she stared blankly at the space where it had fallen, her mind numb with shock. Then, as if the weight of her mother's words had finally crashed down on her, tears began to well up in her eyes.

"Merlin's beard," Daphne whispered, her eyes wide with horror. "That's bloody dreadful."

Eleanor choked back a sob, but it was no use. The tears spilled over, streaking down her cheeks in a torrent of emotion she could no longer contain. She buried her face in her hands, the reality of her situation crashing over her like a wave. She wasn't just being scolded; she was being cast out, banished from her own family.

Daphne quickly moved to sit beside her, wrapping her arms around Eleanor in a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry, El," she murmured, rubbing her friend's back. "They'll come around, you'll see. They just need time."

But Eleanor shook her head, her body wracked with sobs. "I don't know, Daph," she whispered through her tears. "I just don't know."

As the news spread through the Slytherin house, it wasn't long before Draco heard about the letter. He found Eleanor in the common room later that night, curled up on one of the sofas, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

Without a word, Draco sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Eleanor leaned into him, grateful for his presence, but the pain in her chest remained.

"I'm sorry," Draco murmured into her hair, his voice filled with guilt. "This is all because of me."

"It's not your fault," Eleanor replied, though her voice was weak. "I chose this too."

Draco tightened his hold on her, wishing he could take away her pain. "You're not alone, Weasley. We'll figure this out together."

But Eleanor didn't respond. She just rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as her tears soaked into his shirt. She wanted to believe him, to find comfort in his words, but all she could think about was the letter and the cold finality of her mother's rejection.

The next few days passed in a blur for Eleanor. She moved through them in a haze, her mind constantly drifting back to the letter and the realization that she had been cut off from the only home she had ever known. Christmas was supposed to be a time of warmth and family, but now it felt like a distant dream.

As the students began packing to leave for the holidays, Eleanor found herself feeling more and more adrift. Hogwarts, usually a place of solace, now felt cold and lonely. She couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, even among her friends.

Draco was attentive, doing everything he could to make her feel better, but even his presence couldn't fill the void left by her family's rejection. Daphne and Blaise tried to cheer her up as well, but the festive atmosphere only made her feel more isolated.

"C'mon, El, you promised weeks ago you'd come with me," Blaise implored, leaning over Eleanor as she sat staring into the fire, her thoughts far away from the present.

"I changed my mind," Eleanor mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. She wasn't in the mood for a party, not after everything that had happened.

But Blaise wasn't having it. "No. You're coming with me," he insisted, reaching down to pull her up from her seat. Eleanor groaned, resisting at first, but Blaise was persistent. "You can't keep moping around, El. It's Christmas, for Merlin's sake."

Daphne, who had been lounging nearby, looked up and nodded. "He's right, you know. You can't stay cooped up here forever." With a decisive clap of her hands, she stood up. "I saw a dress in your wardrobe. You're going to this party, Eleanor, and you're going to enjoy yourself."

Eleanor rolled her eyes, but she knew better than to argue with Daphne when she was in one of these moods. Before she could protest, Daphne had her by the arm and was dragging her upstairs, determined to get her ready for the evening.

An hour later, Eleanor found herself standing in front of the mirror, transformed. Daphne had pulled her wavy hair up into an elegant bun, leaving a few loose strands to frame her face. Her lips were painted a deep red, matching the color in her cheeks. The dress Daphne had insisted on was a simple yet stunning crimson piece that reached mid-shin, paired with delicate silver wedges.

"You look perfect," Daphne declared with a satisfied smile as she surveyed her handiwork. "Blaise won't know what hit him."

Eleanor wasn't so sure about that, but she allowed Daphne to guide her downstairs to the common room where Blaise was waiting. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her, and Eleanor felt a small flicker of confidence.

"You look amazing," Blaise said with a grin, offering her his arm.

"Thanks," Eleanor muttered, still feeling a bit awkward, but Blaise's genuine smile made her feel slightly better.

The walk to Professor Slughorn's party was filled with the usual banter from Blaise, who did his best to keep the mood light and Eleanor distracted from her worries. As they approached Slughorn's office, Eleanor could hear the lively chatter of students and the soft strains of music filtering through the door.

The room was warm and inviting, decorated with festive crimson, emerald, and gold tapestries hanging from ceiling to floor. Fairy lights twinkled around the edges of the room, casting a soft glow on the faces of the gathered students. Slughorn, beaming with pride, immediately spotted Blaise and Eleanor and made his way over to them.

"Ah, Zabini! Miss Weasley! Just the pair I was hoping to see!" Slughorn said, pulling them in for a quick photo. Eleanor barely had time to compose herself before the flash went off, capturing a moment she wasn't sure she wanted to remember.

The room was packed with students, all chattering and laughing, their faces bright with the holiday spirit. As Slughorn moved on to greet other guests, Eleanor took a moment to glance around the room. The atmosphere was undeniably festive, but she couldn't shake the sense of being out of place, like she was watching the party from the outside.

Blaise, ever the social butterfly, was soon swept up in conversation with a group of Ravenclaws, leaving Eleanor to fend for herself. She moved to the refreshment table, picking up a goblet of spiced pumpkin juice, and took a sip, savoring the warmth that spread through her.

"Don't drink that, El," Blaise laughed, swapping the glass of pumpkin juice in Eleanor's hand for a goblet of red wine. "Slughorn's serving the good stuff tonight," he added with a mischievous grin, his eyebrows waggling suggestively.

Eleanor couldn't help but crack a small smile, the first genuine one in what felt like days. She took a tentative sip of the wine, the rich flavor warming her throat. "You know, I've never had red wine before," she admitted, swirling the liquid around in the glass, watching the way the light caught the deep, ruby color.

"And what's the verdict?" Blaise asked, leaning in with a curious expression.

Eleanor took another sip, savoring the complexity of the taste. "I quite like it," she replied with a shrug, the corners of her mouth lifting in a half-smile.

Blaise beamed at her. "See, this is why we're friends," he said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

They clinked their glasses together, sharing a quiet laugh. As the evening wore on, the two of them grew increasingly tipsy, their laughter becoming louder and more carefree. It was a much-needed distraction from the dark clouds looming over their world, and for a brief moment, Eleanor allowed herself to forget about the letter from her mother, the tension with her family, and the fear gnawing at the edges of her mind.

"You're such a good friend, Eleanor!" Blaise exclaimed suddenly, pulling her into a tight hug. Eleanor laughed, wrapping her arms around him in return, feeling a rush of affection for the boy who always seemed to know how to lift her spirits.

But their lighthearted moment was abruptly shattered by a commotion near the entrance to the room. The familiar voice, sharp and laced with anger, sent a chill down Eleanor's spine.

"Take your hands off me, you filthy Squib!" Draco's voice rang out as he was dragged into the room by Filch, who had an iron grip on his arm.

The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward the scene unfolding before them. Slughorn's jovial expression turned to one of displeasure as he took in the sight of Draco being restrained.

Eleanor instinctively moved to go to him, but Blaise quickly grabbed her arm, holding her back. "Wait," he whispered, his tone serious for once.

"Professor Slughorn, sir!" Filch's voice was a grating whine as he pushed Draco forward. "I found this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party."

Draco, glaring defiantly at Filch, spat out, "Okay, okay, I was gate-crashing. Happy now?" His eyes flicked over to Eleanor and Blaise, who were watching in a mix of confusion and concern.

"I'll escort him out," Professor Snape's cold voice cut through the tension as he stepped forward, his black robes billowing ominously as he approached.

Draco shrugged off Filch's grasp, straightening his posture. "Certainly, Professor," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

As Snape led Draco out of the room, the party slowly resumed, though the festive atmosphere had been dampened by the incident. Eleanor, her earlier buzz completely gone, slipped away from Blaise's side while he was distracted, weaving her way through the crowd and out into the corridor.

"Maybe I did hex that Bell girl. Maybe I didn't," Draco was saying, his voice low and defiant. "What's it to you?"

"I swore to protect you," Snape replied, his tone calm but with an edge of urgency. "I made the Unbreakable Vow."

"I don't need protection!" Draco hissed, glaring at Snape. "I was chosen for this. Out of all others. Me! And I can't fail."

Snape sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of something unsaid. "You're afraid, Draco. You try to conceal it, but it's obvious," he said, his dark eyes boring into Draco's. "And with good reason. I know who the Dark Lord threatened."

Draco's expression faltered, a flash of fear crossing his features. "Don't—" he started, but Snape cut him off.

"Eleanor Weasley," Snape said softly. "He threatened her because he knows you care for her. Let me help you, Draco. If not for your sake, then for hers."

"No!" Draco's voice cracked, desperation seeping through his usually composed demeanor. "I was chosen. I need to protect her."

Eleanor knew where Draco would go. The path to the Slytherin common room was dark and quiet, the usual hum of students absent as most were still at the party. As she walked, the soft hum of a melody escaped her lips.

The sound of her voice caught Draco and Snape's attention as they paused in a secluded alcove.

At that moment, Eleanor rounded the corner, her soft humming dying on her lips as she saw them. "Miss Weasley," Snape said, his voice shifting back to its usual icy tone. "Mr. Malfoy, why don't you escort Miss Weasley back to the Slytherin common room?"

Draco quickly composed himself, his eyes flicking between Snape and Eleanor. "Certainly," he said, stepping forward to take her hand, his grip firm but gentle.

As they walked away, the tension between them was palpable. Eleanor could sense that something significant had just transpired, but she didn't press Draco for answers. They made their way back in silence, the corridors eerily empty and quiet.

What they didn't know was that Harry Potter had been hidden close by, listening intently to every word. His mind was racing, piecing together the fragments of the conversation he had overheard. He stayed in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to act.

As Draco and Eleanor finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Draco hesitated, turning to face her. "Weasley... I..."

But whatever he was about to say was lost in the swirl of emotions that crossed his face. Instead, he just pulled her close, holding her tightly as if afraid she might slip away.

Eleanor, feeling the weight of his fear and the unspoken words between them, wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. In that moment, the world outside didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were together, even if just for tonight.