I was never really a fan of the holidays. My birthday was on the 31st, which would have been exciting if it wasn't also the day my mom died (albeit three years later). It was a hard day for my father, so it never felt right to celebrate. I never knew her enough to mourn her like he did, but I still mourned her absence.

I loved my dad. Our holiday traditions were perfect as they were and he never failed to make them a fun bonding experience between the two of us. But I'd always wondered what it would have been like if my mom was there with us.

Regardless, I was excited to see my family. My father and my Aunt Kara were at the house and had probably already set up the Christmas tree. Christmas wasn't so much about the gifts (especially since I'd spoiled Santa for myself) but for spending time with each other. Each of us usually received one gift each, and the rest of the gifts were the memories we made together. My favorite thing to do was to have snowball fights in the backyard. I had the best aim.

We also made sugar cookies on Christmas Eve. Sugar cookies were my mother's favorite, and we always made them to honor her. They became my favorite too, though I also thoroughly enjoyed gingerbread.

I considered inviting Harry back with me for Christmas, but I wasn't sure if that was allowed. I imagined holidays would be hard for him too, but he was planning to stay at Hogwarts with Ron anyway. Hermione and I were both going home, but the two were planning to stay at the castle together to keep each other company.

He'd been telling me about this when Malfoy had butt into the conversation uninvited, making a snarky comment about how Harry had "no proper family" and this marked the first time in my life when I'd truly wanted to give someone a black eye. I didn't speak to him after that, but he hadn't been speaking to me either, so I wasn't surprised.

Later, we were in the library researching Nicolas Flamel after Hagrid had spilled, though it was to no avail. The teachers seemed to have gotten rid of all of the books that mentioned his name. They were onto us. I'd gone and asked a few Ravenclaws, but they didn't know anything very helpful about him. Only that he was a famous alchemist that worked with Dumbledore. If only I could ask Dumbledore himself.

Soon enough, Hermione and I were on the train back home. Most students had wanted to go home as well, but the train was much emptier than before. Seamus and Dean sat with Hermione and I in our compartment, and we'd been making light conversation. Seamus was quite a gossip, and surprisingly enough (to everyone but me), so was Hermione. Dean and I just exchanged looks and listened in.

Suddenly, a giggle sounded from outside the hallway.

"I think I'm most excited for dinner. Your mum always makes such good food, Draco. You'll sit next to me, won't you? You always do."

It was Pansy Parkinson. Whatever Malfoy said in reply was muffled by the distance, and I assumed the two of them had walked away from our compartment. Seamus made a face.

"Well there goes Hogwarts' least favorite couple," he remarked. "That'll be one ugly baby if I ever see one."

"Seamus!" Hermione scolded, but she didn't berate him.

"More like one ugly divorce," Dean piped in. "He's clearly not interested in her at all."

"You know, I reckon he's got eyes for somebody else and he's just using her as a cover," Seamus wiggled his eyebrows at me. I was about to defend Malfoy and say he wouldn't use people, not even obnoxious Pansy Parkinson, like that until I remembered what Dean had said to me, and I bit my tongue. However, I didn't realize Seamus' implications until moments later.

"You're very wrong." I shook my head indignantly. "He wouldn't ever fancy me, I'm too low class for the likes of him." I said the words "low class" in a mocking tone, and the compartment laughed.

"It's a good thing you have other admirers," Seamus laughed. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What does that m—"

"Well who do you fancy?" Dean said quickly. "There's got to be someone."

As much as I thought about it, there really wasn't. I'd never had a crush on anyone before. I found them menial and pointless.

"I've never really fancied anyone before," I admitted. "I don't even know what that feels like."

"You must be joking," Hermione seemed surprised at my answer. "I've always thought—"

"You and Malfoy," Seamus  furrowed his brow.

"As did I," Dean admitted.

"What?!" I felt my cheeks get hot. Did people really think I fancied Malfoy? This whole time?!
"Did it really come across like that? I— I really just thought he was interesting." I sighed. "Turns out he's just an arse through and through."

"Well yeah, but the rest of us didn't have to spend time with him outside of class to know that," Seamus chuckled. "You really are too nice Lila."

"I wouldn't say I'm nice," I shared a look with Hermione, who knew this. "I just like to probe below the surface."

"So you've never had the butterflies?" Hermione asked.

"Butterflies?" I repeated.

"The nerves make it feel like there's butterflies in your stomach," Hermione explained. "You enjoy talking to them. Seeing them makes you happy. You're always thinking about them."

I chuckled. "I haven't. But who do you fancy, if you know the feeling so well?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I—"

"Do you really not know?" Dean looked shocked as I shook my head. Was I supposed to know these things? She'd never told me so maybe she hadn't wanted me to find out. I respected that.

"C'mon, 'Mione," Seamus grinned. "Spill."

"Don't call me that," she rolled her eyes. "And I thought it was obvious. It's Harry."

"You're kidding!" This was news to me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was getting around to it but you seemed to have a lot on your plate," she smiled apologetically.

"It's alright, I don't mind," I shrugged. "But why do these two know?"

"Like she said, it's obvious," Dean smirked.

"You're really awful at reading the signs," Seamus said to me bluntly. I frowned.

"I'm actually very good at reading suspicious signals — that's how I know people are up to something," I stated. Seamus shook his head.

"No, not those signals. The kind where people fancy you, and they get all nervous and shifty—"

"Those sound like signals that would warrant suspicion." I interrupted.

"You're hopeless," Seamus threw up his hands in defeat.

"Be nice," Dean elbowed him. He looked to me warmly. "It's okay not to know about this kind of thing. Sometimes people are good at hiding it—"

"And other times they're not," Seamus interrupted, giving Dean a meaningful look. What he meant by this, I didn't know.

"Plus it's not that important anyway," Dean said, ignoring him. "I'm sure you have a lot to focus on, like Hermione said."

"School has been quite time consuming," I nodded, though I was thinking more of our hunt for Flamel rather than my actual schoolwork.

"Teachers don't seem to understand we have a life," Seamus rolled his eyes. "Especially McGonagall and Snape—"

"Professor McGonagall," Hermione corrected him. "And she doesn't give us that much homework."

"It's too bad she doesn't favor us like Snape favors his house," Dean shook his head. "Maybe then I'd go to sleep before midnight."

"Well that's hardly a way to think about it, is it?" I shook my head. "She's just preparing us for future classes."

"Future classes my arse," Seamus rolled his eyes. "Might as well fail me now."

This earned a laugh from the compartment.

Upon returning to Kings Cross, we all hugged each other goodbye for the time being and split off to look for our parents. It was already well past eight, and the sky was dark. My father was waiting for me by the entrance of the station with my Aunt Kara. Today, her hair was a mixture of red and brown, as if the color had faded. I always associated the color dark red with her in my mind — firey, but toned down. Like hot coals in the fireplace.

"Hey there," she smiled warmly. "It's so good to see you again, it's been so long!"

"It's lovely to see you too," I returned her smile and she swept me into a hug. I had no choice but to return the embrace — her arms alone were stronger than every other muscle in my body.

"Calm down, Kara, she's my daughter," my father chuckled. Aunt Kara begrudgingly released her strong hold on me and I was scooped into my fathers arms. I was so excited to tell him all about Hogwarts and the fantastic things I've learned and people I've met, but I had to wait until we were alone.

We took Aunt Kara's car home — it was a rather nice car, though she always played hardcore metal whenever we went anywhere. I wondered how she was able to think with that on.

The house was already decorated, except for the tree. The box of ornaments laid out beside it, while the lights on the walls and on the outside of the house continued to shine red and green. The inside of the house smelled vaguely of gingerbread, and I wondered if my father had been baking them the day previous.

"I figured you wouldn't like to miss out on decorating the tree," he said, as if reading my mind. "Or frosting the cookies. We can do them all tonight, as a family. Unless you're too tired, of course."

"I'm never too tired for decorating," I grinned. I always got a thrill out of decorating — I had an attention to detail with frosting and hanging or ornaments methodically that I didn't have with drawing.

I thought of Dean, and I wondered how he decorated his tree at home. Did his family decorate a tree? I tried to imagine what his would look like.

"You're just like your mother," my dad told me. "Christmas was always her favorite holiday."

Though this took me by surprise. My mother, though I didn't know her that well, was always someone I looked up to with utmost respect. I couldn't help but wonder what she'd be doing if she were here. Just thinking about it, I began to miss her.

That night, I lied awake for a few extra hours thinking about my mother. Sometime around ten I stood up and made my way downstairs quietly, trying not to disturb my father. Aunt Kara was asleep on the couch, and I tiptoed my way past her and into the basement. We had a massive storage area there, and there were a lot of memories to unpack. However, those were another nights journey. I knew what I was looking for.

Set aside from the stacked boxes and items shoved into corners was a framed picture. Two people remained inside — a younger, much brighter version of my father, and a beautiful woman even more luminous than him. Looking at the picture, you could tell what I received. My father's lankiness and curly hair, and his tendency for sunburn and large feet. I'd gotten my mother's eyes and her freckles, though her figure was the definition of perfection. She almost didn't seem real.

Her smile was radiant, like the sun had chosen to cast its rays onto her teeth rather than the moon. The picture was black and white, and it was of their wedding day. They stood together on a bridge in autumn. I couldn't see the color of my mothers eyes, but I knew they mirrored the green-brown of mine. I tried to imagine her here, with us. Whistling in the kitchen, icing cookies, but that didn't seem quite right. She looked like the type that went places. Did things. Father always told me she had a wandering spirit, and that she was somewhat mysterious. Just like myself.

I looked into her eyes and radiant smile and, suddenly, felt my cheek wet with a tear. I hadn't known I'd been crying, but I breathed in and my nose had gotten sniffly. I sighed, drinking in the photo one more time before putting it back. I'd had the entire picture memorized by heart, but holding it always felt more like she was there.

A few mornings later, on Christmas Day, I'd received a few owls. One was from Harry, as Hedwig was easy to spot amongst the crowd of brown owls at my desk by the windowsill. The other two had owners I wasn't sure of. I took the letter off of Hedwig and opened it to read. I hadn't really missed Harry's chicken scratch handwriting, but it was better than Ron's so I wasn't complaining.

Dear Lila,

I wanted to write to you and Hermione as soon as I could. Firstly, I got your sweets and they're really good. Ron's not very fond of caramels so I don't have to share with him. Thank you so much! Second, I got this cloak for Christmas, and the note said it belonged to my father. There's no signature or any sort of sign for who gave it to me, but Ron told me to put it on and it made me invisible! I looked down and my entire body was gone! It was insane and I wish you could have been here for it.

I hope you're enjoying your time with your family, though. The cloak is making me start to wonder about my parents, and I've missed them my entire life, but now I feel as if they've been ripped away from me again. Maybe you know how that feels? Write me back when you get this and give Hedwig a treat — she's been busting her wings for me. Merry Christmas, Lila!

Harry.

I reread the last few parts again, and sighed. I knew exactly how he felt, like something that was already gone had come close to you, but was just torn away again. I hardly knew my mother, but the way my father talked about her made her sound like she was still here. It was a bittersweet reminder that she wasn't.

I wrote Harry a response and sent Hedwig on her way (after I gave her a treat, of course) and tended to the first brown owl. She looked a lot less ruffled up than the other.

Dear Lila,

Merry Christmas! I hope you're having a wonderful holiday! Please enjoy your parceled gift, as I enjoyed yours this morning! I'm very excited to start digging into these books, though I must reward your owl for carrying them all this way. Quite a strong one, she is. Anyway, I got you this present because I knew it would be perfect for you. Ron was telling me about it so I ordered one for you through owl post! This isn't my owl, by the way. If you hold it over a coded message, it decodes it for you. While you can easily do the deciding yourself, if you're ever in a pinch I figured you might appreciate the help! I hope you're having a wonderful time with your family, and I hope that the rest of your break is spectacular. See you soon, sleuth.
Love from,

Hermione.

I unattached the parcel from the owls leg, gave her a treat as well, and began to write Hermione a response. I opened the parcel to reveal an ordinary looking magnifying glass. I took my "Book of Codes" from the bookshelf in order to see if it really worked. Much to my delight, the example message shifted from gibberish into "the quick, brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." I almost squealed with delight, but squealing is a Parkinson thing; and I did not want to have anything to do with her.

I couldn't believe I was thinking about Pansy Parkinson during the holidays. Eugh.

I finished my letter to Hermione and sent the owl on it's way. I took the letter from the last owl, who's feathers were lightly ruffled and beak slightly crooked.

Dear Lila,

It's Dean. This is my owl, Zumi. I named her that because she's very fast. Anyway, I hope you're having an amazing holiday break. My family and I went to a soccer (football) game two nights ago and it was crazy! Everyone was shouting and it was really fun. I wish you were there, but I drew you a picture of what I saw from the stands, I hope you like it! I also attached some gum for you to chew thoughtfully while you ponder your existence or whatever you do at home. Just kidding, you're brilliant. I'm sure you're doing something cool and exciting. Merry Christmas, Lila!
Your best friend,

Dean.

After laughing at the way he called himself my best friend, I looked at the image he'd drawn below the letter. There was the back of people's heads at the bottom of the paper. There was so much detail that I could almost see each individual hair. Their fists were clenched and their shoulders hunched passionately. On the field there were several men frozen in the action of running with the football being kicked by number 17 into the goal, while the goalie had just missed it. The picture was incredibly drawn. I wondered how much time he'd spent on this. I wrote him back a response as well. After attatching it, I sent Zumi on her way with a treat.