December 25, 1993 • Briarwood Manor
Even though Ciara was fourteen, and no longer a child, she still had the childlike joy that came with Christmas. Her mother always went above and beyond, and made it special for her only daughter every year.
This year, Ciara awoke to the sparkle of snow surrounding her. Her mother had charmed a small fake snowfall throughout the house which sparkle from all the Christmas decor around the Manor.
She didn't bother dressing, and made her way to the main floor sitting room. The faint sound of a harp playing Christmas music could be heard, as well as a soft chatter from her parents.
"Merry Christmas beautiful!" her mother said as Ciara came around the corner. She came over and gave her a small hug, as her father turned around from the mornings edition of the Daily Prophet.
"Merry Christmas," her father called out before returning to reading.
The tree had been adorned with deep blue ornaments, and was strung with white gold and crystal garlands. The presents underneath were all the same colour of blue with an even richer blue as a velvet ribbon.
She opened her mother's gifts first. She had given her a few new articles of clothing for her day to day wear, some new personal hygiene products, and a new practice quaffle.
"I have one more for you," her mother said handing her a larger box. Inside was a beautiful A-line black dress. It was adorned by black butterflies and streaks of grey throughout.
"It's beautiful!" Ciara said in awe. The long dress suited her perfectly, and her mom knew that. She looked at her daughter with such pride. She had grown into a beautiful young lady before her eyes. Before her mom could think too much more about it, her father turned around crane with a couple wrapped gifts from him.
Ciara delicately put her dress on one of the chairs, and started unwrapping her father's gifts. Every one of them was a book from a different shop in Knockturn alley. It spanned from books on runes to books on ancient magic. Ciara, thrilled, skipped over to her father to give him a hug.
"Thank you," she said as she pulled out of the hug. "They're perfect."
Her father gave her a small smile, and went to see how Elwyn was doing with breakfast. Ciara looked over her new books and clothes that she had gotten from her parents before joining them for breakfast.
The breakfast table was a veritable feast. There were fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and pastries. A pot of hot chocolate simmered on the stove, and Elwyn had brewed a fresh pot of coffee for the adults.
Back at Hogwarts, Harry was woken by Ron throwing his pillow at him.
"Oi! Presents!"
Harry reached for his glasses and put them on, squinting through the semi-darkness to the foot of his bed, where a small heap of parcels had appeared. Ron was already ripping the paper off his own presents.
"Another sweater from Mum... maroon again... see if you've got one."
Harry had. Mrs. Weasley has sent him a scarlet sweater with the Gryffindor lion knitted on the front; also a dozen home-baked mince pies, some Christmas cake, and aboxof nut brittle. As he moved all these things aside, he saw a long, thin package underneath.
"What's that?" said Ron, looking over, a freshly unwrapped pair of maroon socks in hand.
"Dunno..."
Harry ripped the parcel open and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto his bedspread. Ron dropped his socks and jumped off his bed for a closer look.
"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely.
It was a Firebolt, identical to the dream broom Harry had gone to see every day in Diagon Alley. Its handle glittered as he picked it up. He could feel it vibrating and let go; it hung in midair, unsupported, at exactly the right height for him to mount it. His eyes moved from the golden registration number at the top of the handle, right down to the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.
"Who sent it to you?" said Ron in a hushed voice.
"Look and see if there's a card," said Harry.
Ron ripped apart the Firebolt's wrappings.
"Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"
"Well," said Harry, feeling stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."
"I bet it was Dumbledore," said Ron, now walking around and around the Firebolt, taking in every glorious inch. "He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously. . . ."
"That was my dad's, though," said Harry. "Dumbledore was just passing it on to me. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me. He can't go giving students stuff like this —"
"That's why he wouldn't say it was from him!" said Ron. "In case some gitlike Malfoy said it was favoritism. Hey, Harry" — Ron gave a great whoop of laughter — "Malfoy! Wait till he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an international standard broom, this is!"
"I can't believe this," Harry muttered, running a hand along the Firebolt, while Ron sank onto Harry's bed, laughing his head off at the thought of Malfoy. "Who — ?"
"What're you two laughing about?"
Hermione had just come in, wearing her dressing gown and carrying Crookshanks, who was looking very grumpy, with a string of tinsel tied around his neck.
"Don't bring him in here!" said Ron, hurriedly snatching Scabbers from the depths of his bed and stowing him in his pajama pocket. But Hermione wasn't listening. She dropped Crookshanks onto Seamus's empty bed and stared,open-mouthed, at the Firebolt.
"Oh, Harry! Who sent you that?"
"No idea," said Harry. "There wasn't a card or anything with it."
To his great surprise, Hermione did not appear either excited or intrigued by the news. On the contrary, her face fell, and she bit her lip.
"What's the matter with you?" said Ron.
"I don't know," said Hermione slowly, "but it's a bit odd, isn't it? I mean, this is supposed to be quite a good broom, isn't it?"
Ron sighed exasperatedly.
"It's the best broom there is, Hermione," he said.
"So it must've been really expensive. . . ."
"Probably cost more than all the Slytherins' brooms put together," said Ron happily.
"Well . . . who'd send Harry something as expensive as that, and not even tell him they'd sent it?" said Hermione.
"Who cares?" said Ron impatiently. "Listen, Harry, can I have a go on it?Can I?"
"I don't think anyone should ride that broom just yet!" said Hermione shrilly.
Harry and Ron looked at her.
"What d'you think Harry's going to do with it — sweep the floor?" said Ron.
But before Hermione could answer, Crookshanks sprang from Seamus'sbed, right at Ron's chest. "GET — HIM — OUT — OF — HERE!" Ron bellowed as Crookshanks's claws ripped his pajamas and Scabbers attempted a wild escape over his shoulder. Ron seized Scabbers by the tail and aimed a misjudged kick at Crookshanks that hit the trunk at the end of Harry's bed, knocking it over and causing Ron to hop up and down, howling with pain.
Crookshanks's fur suddenly stood on end. A shrill, tinny whistling was filling the room. The Pocket Sneakoscope had become dislodged from Uncle Vernon's old socks and was whirling and gleaming on the floor.
"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending down and picking up the Sneakoscope. "I never wear those socks if I can help it. . . ."
The Sneakoscope whirled and whistled in his palm. Crookshanks was hissing and spitting at it.
"You'd better take that cat out of here, Hermione," said Ron furiously,sitting on Harry's bed nursing his toe. "Can't you shut that thing up?" headed to Harry as Hermione strode out of the room, Crookshanks's yellow eyes still fixed maliciously on Ron.
Harry stuffed the Sneakoscope back inside the socks and threw it back into his trunk. All that could be heard now were Ron's stifled moans of pain and rage. Scabbers was huddled in Ron's hands. It had been a while since Harry had seen him out of Ron's pocket, and he was unpleasantly surprised to see that Scabbers, once so fat, was now very skinny; patches of fur seemed to have fallen out too.
"He's not looking too good, is he?" Harry said.
"It's stress!" said Ron. "He'd be fine if that big stupid furball left him alone!"
But Harry, remembering what the woman at the Magical Menagerie had said about rats living only three years, couldn't help feeling that unless Scabbers had powers he had never revealed, he was reaching the end of his life. And despite Ron's frequent complaints that Scabbers was both boring and useless, he was sure Ron would be very miserable if Scabbers died.
Christmas spirit was definitely thin on the ground in the Gryffindor common room that morning. Hermione had shut Crookshanks in her dormitory, but was furious with Ron for trying to kick him; Ron was still fuming about Crookshanks's fresh attempt to eat Scabbers. Harry gave up trying to make them talk to each other and devoted himself to examining the Firebolt, which he had brought down to the common room with him. For some reason this seemed to annoy Hermione as well; she didn't say anything, but she kept looking darkly at the broom as though it too had been criticizing her cat.
Hermione finally tore them from their thoughts when three owls arrived at the window, bearing packages from Ciara. Hermione went to open the window, allowing the owls to fly in and drop their parcels.
"Looks like Ciara sent us Christmas presents!" she exclaimed, her voice brightening.
Ron eagerly grabbed his package and ripped it open. "Cockroach Clusters! That bitch!"
"Ron!" Hermione said sternly to him. Ron paid no mind and continued opening.
"And a new jumper!" he said, holding up the navy jumper with delight. "Finally something not maroon!" A few other items from Honeydukes and Zonkos was also included with the others.
Hermione carefully unwrapped her gift, her eyes lighting up as she saw the titles of the books. "Oh, Ciara knows me too well!" she said, a broad smile spreading across her face as she gently ran her fingers over the covers. "These are perfect!"
Harry took his time opening his presents, his eyebrows rising in surprise when he saw his name on a package. He pulled out a new broomstick servicing kit and a book on advanced defensive spells. "Ciara got me something too?" he said, genuinely surprised. He examined the items for a moment, touched by Ciara's thoughtfulness.
"That will be perfect for your new broom!" Ron said out to Harry while shoving his face with a cauldron cake.
Harry then noticed a small bit of parchment with the chocolate frogs he was given.
Harry,
I am very sorry for the gift, as I bought it before your quidditch match. You may be able to return it, or maybe keep it for a new broom? Anyways, Merry Christmas, and sorry again.
Ciara
Harry smiled to himself knowing that it was a perfect gift for the broom he had received, but had seen where she was coming from. If he hadn't gotten that broom before, that would have stung a bit.
They all got up after a while, getting hungry, and made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch.
⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰
Ciara had almost finished getting ready. Her mother helped her with her hair by using a charm to make a beautiful updo. She went to pick out her clothes for the night and landed on a brown silk slip dress with a sheer emerald scarf to throw over her shoulders.
Once she was done, she made her way to the dining room where her parents were both having a glass of wine before they left.
"You look beautiful, darling," her mother said to her as she walked in. Ciara thanked her, but the look of nervousness didn't slip by her gaze. Ciara was already nervous for the events of tonight, and seeing her mother anxious as well was not helping.
Ciara started playing with her hands to try and distract herself when her father looked down at his watch and told them it was time to leave. They would be flooing there, so they made their way over to their fireplace. Her father went first, engulfed in a green flame, and then gone. Ciara stepped up to go next, and she took some floo powder before saying, "Malfoy Manor," and got sucked through what felt like a series of tubing.
She had landed in the foyer of Malfoy Manor. She had been here before when she was younger. Her mother had brought her here to talk with Narcissa, but she was still in awe. The Manor was huge but brought with it a sad feeling. It didn't feel like a home to her.
Another flash of green came, and her mother was now with them.The imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy approached them, a thin smile on his lips.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," Lucius greeted, his voice smooth and controlled. Narcissa Malfoy appeared by his side, her expression more warm and welcoming.
"Thank you for having us," Ciara's mother replied graciously. "It's been too long."
"It's our pleasure," Narcissa added, stepping forward to give Ciara's mother a brief hug. "You all look wonderful this evening."
The parents started talking when Draco made his way over to Ciara. He gave her a small, almost shy smile. "Hey, Ciara," he said quietly.
"Hi, Draco," she replied. "Are we joining the parents?"
"Not yet," he said, motioning for her to follow. "I am to give you a tour."
"Uhmm," she said hesitant, not really knowing what to say. "Show me around."
They wandered the halls talking about what they thought their parents had planned. Ciara doubted that Draco didn't know, but then again, he did like to gloat so he would most likely be holding it over her that she doesn't know and he does.
They made their way to the library, and Ciara was in awe. She thought the library at Briarwood Manor was grand, but this was a different level. It was if she was in the library at Hogwarts, but with countless rare books.
Ciara wandered around, looking at titles of old books, and taking out a few to skim over their words. They moved on after Draco started complaining about how she was taking too long looking at 'old dumb books'.
They then made their way to the conservatory, which was one this she wasn't impressed by. Her mother kept a magical conservatory at their house with dozens of rare, and exotic, plants.
They continued their tour, with Draco showing her the grand ballroom with its gleaming floors and high ceilings. He started talking about some ball that was hosted here when he was a kid, but her mind was already drifting back to the library. Despite Draco's dismissive attitude, she couldn't help but be fascinated by the collection of rare books.
After showing Ciara the grand ballroom, Draco led her down a dimly lit hallway. The wooden floors creaked softly under their footsteps, and the walls were adorned with portraits of stern-looking ancestors.
"This is where the family's private quarters are," Draco explained. "My room is just ahead."
They walked in silence for a moment, the only sound the echo of their steps. Ciara's mind kept drifting back to the library, but she forced herself to stay focused on the tour.
Draco stopped in front of a heavy oak door and pushed it open. "Welcome to my room," he said, stepping aside to let her enter first.
She stepped in and was immediately greeted by a sea of dark green. The walls were a deep, rich emerald, giving the room a cozy yet imposing atmosphere. The room was impeccably clean, with not a speck of dust in sight. A large canopy bed stood against one wall, draped in green and silver silk curtains. The bedspread was a luxurious silk, and the pillows were neatly arranged.
Opposite the bed, a grand fireplace crackled softly, its mantel adorned with various trinkets and framed photos. Two plush armchairs sat in front of the fireplace, inviting one to sit and warm up by the fire. A finely crafted mahogany desk was placed near a tall window, with parchment, quills, and ink bottles neatly organized on its surface. A dark green rug with intricate silver patterns covered the polished wooden floor, adding to the room's opulence.
Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with volumes on potion-making, spellcasting, and magical creatures. Quidditch memorabilia, including a signed Quaffle and a model of a Nimbus 2001 broomstick, were displayed proudly on the shelves.
"Wow," she said softly, "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this."
Draco chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Pleasantly surprised, I hope?"
She sent him a small look before walking further into the room, her fingers brushing against the spines of books on the shelves. "What are we having tonight?" she asked. "Do you know?"
"No," he admitted, "but I do know we will be having Tarte Tatin for dessert."
She laughed. Of course the one thing he would know would be the dessert.
Draco looked at her while she laughed. She looked beautiful. Her brown hair cascaded down her back in soft waves, framing her face and highlighting her striking grey eyes. The brown silk slip dress she wore hugged her figure perfectly, the fabric shimmering gently in the light. The color complemented her warm complexion, making her look effortlessly elegant.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when Mippy, their house elf, alerted them that dinner would be ready soon and they should make their way back to the dining room.
"Thank you," Ciara said to the elf, allowing Draco to lead her back.
When they had reached the dining room, both their fathers were standing with a glass of bourbon talking in hushed voices. Their mothers were both sitting at the table, glass of wine in hand, talking about anything that came to mind.
Once they noticed their children had arrived, they all made their way to the dinner table. Lucious was sitting at the head of the table with Alaric sitting at the other end. Their wives both sat to their left side, as the kids sat two seats down from their fathers to their right.
Seraphine broke the silence by asking Draco how his school year had been going.
"It has been fine, other than the new Care of Magical Creatures professor," he began. "Father is setting a trial for a rogue hippogriff."
"Oh dear," she said, "What happened?"
"He insulted it," Ciara stated plainly.
The table looked at her, and she sank back into her chair a bit.
"It slashed my arm," Draco said, pointing to where it happened.
The conversation continued with both Narcissa and Seraphine asking Draco and Ciara questions about their year and their aspirations for after school.
"I think I would like to work doing something abroad," Draco said in response to Mrs. Briarwood's question.
Narcissa then turned to Ciara, her expression curious. "And you, Ciara?"
Ciara thought for a moment. "I think I want to work as an Auror or maybe something to do with history." She paused, contemplating her options. She didn't actually know what she wanted to do when she finished Hogwarts. Becoming an Auror sounded intriguing, but she wasn't sure if it was her true calling. She loved history, but that career seemed a bit too boring. She was still trying to find a balance between the two.
Unexpectedly, Lucius started talking to them about next summer. "From August 12-18, the Quidditch World Cup will be happening, and we have been invited to sit with the Minister during the match."
Ciara was thrilled with this. She had never been to a professional Quidditch match before, and the World Cup was an incredible first game. "That's amazing!" Draco also looked thrilled.
Ciara was thrilled with this. She had never been to a professional Quidditch match before, and the World Cup was a great first game. Draco also looked thrilled with this. Ciara was having such a good time, until she wasn't.
Narcissa smiled at their excitement. "Yes, it will be quite the event. The last World Cup was spectacular, and I'm sure this one will be even better."
Alaric joined in. "It's an honor to sit with the Minister. We will have the best seats in the stadium."
The conversation continued with everyone sharing their favorite Quidditch memories and discussing which teams they were rooting for.
Halfway through their main course, the fathers exchanged a knowing nod. Lucius cleared his throat, breaking the lighthearted chatter. "We've been discussing something important," he began, his tone casual.
"To strengthen both houses, we've decided to officially betroth the two of you." Alaric finished.
Draco looked shocked, as if he didn't even know it was about this. "What?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Ciara felt a surge of anger and upset welling up inside her. "No!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "You can't just decide that for us!"
"Ciara," her father said sternly, trying to silence her. "This is for the good of our families."
But Ciara was not about to be silenced. "I don't care about that!" she snapped, her eyes blazing. "This is my life, my future! I should have a say in it!"
"Ciara, stop it," Draco said angrily, standing up. "You're making a scene."
Ciara turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Making a scene? Draco, they just decided our lives for us without even asking!"
Alaric's face flushed with anger. "Ciara, that's enough!" he thundered. "You will not speak out of turn."
Ciara's hands clenched into fists. "No, Father, this isn't fair."
Lucius interjected, his voice stern. "This decision is final. It will benefit both families. You'll have plenty of time to get accustomed to each other, starting with the New Year's ball. You'll be attending together."
The silence was deafening. Alaric stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I am sorry, but we're leaving," he declared, his voice making no argument. Turning to the Malfoys, he added, "I apologize for the abrupt departure. Thank you for the dinner."
Seraphine quickly followed suit, her face pale and strained. "Come, Ciara," she said softly, but firmly.
Ciara, with one last defiant look at her father and Draco, stood up and followed her parents out of the dining room. The Briarwood family's departure left an uneasy silence in their wake.
Draco remained standing, his emotions a turbulent mix of shock, anger, and confusion. He glanced at his parents, who were watching him expectantly. Taking a deep breath, he sat back down, the their expectations heavy on his shoulders.
Back at home, Alaric's face was red with anger, and the moment they were all home, he exploded.
"How dare you embarrass us like that in front of the Malfoys!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Ciara, still fuming, glared back at him. "I don't care, Father! You had no right to decide my future without even consulting me!"
Alaric's anger only grew. "You are a child, Ciara! You don't understand the importance of alliances and strengthening our house."
"I understand more than you think!" she retorted, her voice rising. "I understand that my life shouldn't be a bargaining chip for your ambitions!"
Seraphine stood by, wringing her hands, tears forming in her eyes. "Alaric, please," she pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears.
Alaric's eyes blazed with fury. "Enough! You will respect our decisions and do as you're told!"
Ciara stepped closer, her defiance undiminished. "Respect your decisions? You didn't even ask me! This is my life, my choices!"
Alaric's nostrils flared. "You will do what is necessary for our family, Ciara. This alliance will secure our future."
"It's not necessary for me!" Ciara yelled back. "You care more about power and status than about what I want or need!"
Seraphine tried to intervene, her voice trembling. "Please, both of you, let's calm down and talk about this rationally."
Alaric turned on her, his eyes filled with rage. "Stay out of this, Seraphine! You always coddle her. This is why she's so disobedient!"
Alaric's fury reached a boiling point. "You insolent child! You think you know better than your own parents?" he thundered.
"Yes, when it comes to my own life, I do!" Ciara shot back, her voice trembling but strong. "I won't be your pawn!"
The rage in Alaric's eyes intensified. "You will learn respect, even if I have to force it upon you!" he roared.
Before Ciara could react, Alaric raised his wand. "Crucio!" he shouted, and the curse hit Ciara with full force.
Ciara screamed as pain wracked her body, collapsing to the floor. The agony was unlike anything she had ever felt, and for a moment, everything else faded away.
Back at Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione and Ron had just finished dinner and were heading back to the dormitory.
"Coming?" Harry said to Hermione.
"No," Hermione muttered, "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."
"Probably trying to see if she can take any more classes," yawned Ron as they made their way into the entrance hall.
When they reached the portrait hole, they found Sir Cadogan enjoying a Christmas party with a couple of monks, several previous headmasters of Hogwarts, and his fat pony. He pushed up his visor and toasted them with a flagon of mead.
"Merry — hic — Christmas! Password?"
"Scurvy cur," said Ron.
"And the same to you, sir!" roared Sir Cadogan as the painting swung forward to admit them.
Harry went straight up to the dormitory, collected the Firebolt and the Broomstick Servicing Kit, brought them downstairs, and tried to find something to do to the Firebolt; however, there were no bent twigs to clip, and the handle was so shiny already it seemed pointless to polish it. He and Ron simply sat admiring it from every angle until the portrait hole opened, and Hermione came in, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.
Though Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, Harry had seen her in the common room only once before, and that had been to make avery grave announcement. He and Ron stared at her, both holding the Firebolt. Hermione walked around them, sat down, picked up the nearest book, and hid her face behind it.
"So that's it, is it?" said Professor McGonagall beadily, walking over to the fireside and staring at the Firebolt. "Miss Granger has just informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."
Harry and Ron looked around at Hermione. They could see her forehead reddening over the top of her book, which was upside down.
"May I?" said Professor McGonagall, but she didn't wait for an answer before pulling the Firebolt out of their hands. She examined it carefully from handle to twig-ends. "Hmm. And there was no note at all, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"
"No," said Harry blankly.
"I see . . . ," said Professor McGonagall.
"Well, I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."
"W-what?" said Harry, scrambling to his feet. "Why?"
"It will need to be checked for jinxes," said Professor McGonagall. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will strip it down —"
"Strip it down?" repeated Ron, as though Professor McGonagall was mad.
"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," said Professor McGonagall. "You will have it back if we are sure it is jinx-free."
"There's nothing wrong with it!" said Harry, his voice shaking slightly.
"Honestly, Professor —"
"You can't know that, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, quite kindly, "not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that is out of the question until we are certain that it has not been tampered with. I shall keep you informed."
Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and carried the Firebolt out of the portrait hole, which closed behind her. Harry stood staring after her, the tin of High-Finish Polish still clutched in his hands. Ron, however, rounded on Hermione.
"What did you go running to McGonagall for?"
Hermione threw her book aside. She was still pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.
"Because I thought — and Professor McGonagall agrees with me — that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"
⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰
A crazy Christmas day! And a crazy New Years? Let me know how you guys like the length.. I am not quite sure how much to write per chapter, so I am kinda all over the place..
Anyways, I hoped you liked the chapter, and don't forget to comment and vote <3
4.6k words
This is also the dress that I imagined she got for christmas!! this will also be the dress she will wear for the New Years Ball.