Dawn in Wiltshire arrived wrapped in an almost supernatural calm. Snow fell gently over the immaculate gardens of Malfoy Manor, blanketing marble statues, precisely trimmed hedges, and gravel pathways in a white silence that even stilled the wind. In his room, Draco Malfoy opened his eyes to the first sunbeam slipping through the dark green velvet curtains.
He sat up slowly, his hair messier than usual and his expression—uncharacteristically—not one of irritation or superiority, but something quieter… peaceful. He glanced down and saw five packages neatly aligned at the foot of the fireplace, placed with the meticulous order only a magically trained hand could achieve.
Them? he thought, the faintest smile touching his lips. Of course.
He rose, wrapping himself in his black silk robe, and walked toward the gifts. The first he picked up was the nearest: a package wrapped in deep green paper with silver ribbons.
He unwrapped it carefully, without tearing the paper.
Inside was a scarf.
It wasn't flashy or ostentatious—just elegant: thick, soft wool in deep green hues that faded to silver at the edges, as if kissed by snow itself.
Now that matches, he thought, holding it in his hands. None of that garish red or ridiculous gold.
He unfolded the note tucked inside.
Merry Christmas.
—Kate
Nathael helped me pick it out in Hogsmeade. He said it keeps you warm no matter how cold it gets. And it matches Slytherin.
Draco put it on immediately. To his surprise, it didn't just wrap him in warmth—it brought a strange, unfamiliar feeling… like familial comfort.
What Draco didn't know was that Nathael had chosen both scarves as a matching pair, and had found it quietly amusing to imagine them both wearing them.
Leaving the scarf on, he reached for the next gift. This one was smaller—about the size of a candy box. He unwrapped it and found a magical photograph.
But not just any photograph.
It was a selfie.
In the image, Carrie stood front and center with a shy but genuine smile, while the others were distracted in the airplane's back seat: Nathael was laughing at something he'd just whispered to a blushing Kate; Hermione read a book with fierce concentration; Celestia slept peacefully by the window; and Draco himself gazed out the window, bored and oblivious to the camera.
Merlin! he thought, chuckling to himself. When did she take this? I didn't even notice…
But what truly moved him wasn't the photo itself—it was what it represented. They weren't a group forced together by a professor or cruel fate. They were… a family. Odd, yes. But his.
The note read:
Merry Christmas.
I hope we never forget the good moments.
—Carrie
Draco carefully folded the note and slipped it into his robe pocket.
Thank you, he whispered inwardly—not sounding ridiculous or vulnerable, just… sincere.
The third gift was a box slightly larger than his palm. Inside lay a pocket watch—silver, with subtle yet refined engravings. When he opened the lid, he saw the initials H.G. & D.M. etched inside.
A note accompanied it:
Merry Christmas.
I hope this helps with time—you know how much you hate being late to your flying lessons. Plus, it matches your Slytherin robes. (Very aristocratic.)
As for the initials… I didn't want it to get lost or forgotten in some drawer. It works better if you carry it with you.
And well… I thought you might like it.
—Hermione
Draco held the watch in his palm, staring at the initials.
H.G. & D.M… Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, he read silently.
A strange sensation washed over him—not shame, not pride, but… connection.
She thought about it… engraved it… gave it to me, he reflected. Without asking for anything in return.
He tucked the watch away with a tenderness he didn't recognize in himself and, with surprising clarity, thought: Yes. I'll wear it. Always.
Then he turned to the last two gifts.
One was clearly from Celestia. The other—from Nathael.
He reached for the larger one first.
Opening it, he didn't find a magical artifact or a rare book. He found clothing.
A long, classic-cut overcoat in subtly mottled gray. A light blue dress shirt. An elegant pewter waistcoat. And immaculate white trousers.
The note read:
Merry Christmas.
I hope this set teaches you a thing or two about fashion and helps you forget that habit of dressing like Nathael. (Yes, I've noticed his relaxed style is rubbing off on you. It's alarming.)
I've had this set stored for years. I meant to give it to Nathael when we were eleven. He refused it. Said it "lacked personality."
But you… it'll suit you perfectly. Plus, it's woven with runes of speed and endurance. So it's not just pretty—it's practical.
—Celestia
Draco chuckled softly.
Of course she cares about clothes, he thought, holding the coat. But it's not just vanity. It's… identity.
And he understood. His father had always told him: "Image is everything, Draco. People judge before they speak."
But Celestia wasn't giving him clothes to impress.
She was giving them so he could feel like himself.
He folded the garments carefully and placed them in his wardrobe, promising himself he'd wear them at the next formal occasion.
Finally, he took the last gift.
He knew who it was from before even opening it.
He untied the ribbon slowly, with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years.
Inside rested a ten-centimeter-wide armband, forged from a dark metal that seemed to absorb light. At its center was a symbol he knew well: the Grauheim tree, its roots curling into ancient runes.
Celestia always wore a brooch with that same emblem.
A note accompanied it, written in Nathael's firm, elegant hand:
Merry Christmas.
This armband is called Zauberzehrer. It's a shield. To activate it, place it on your wrist and channel a bit of your magic into it.
It absorbs any form of magic—even the Killing Curse—and can reflect it back. But the cost is high. An average Auror would fall into a coma attempting to absorb an Avada Kedavra.
That's why I ask you to train your body and magical control before using it in combat.
But its true power isn't in reflecting—it's in protecting. You can redirect the absorbed energy: to yourself, to others, into the ground.
I hope you understand the importance of protecting those you care about.
—Nathael
Draco fastened the armband to his wrist.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sent a thread of magic into it.
Instantly, the metal shifted—expanded, reshaped—and formed a small, tree-shaped shield that clung to his forearm as if it had always belonged there.
He stared at it, awestruck.
Absorb… and protect… he thought, feeling the weight of the gift not on his arm, but in his soul. It's not a weapon. It's a promise.
Unbidden, his mind flashed to a memory: Hermione on the train, hair tangled, book in hand, telling him not all Gryffindors were the same.
Protect those you care about…
He mentally shook himself.
Don't be ridiculous, he told himself. It's just a shield.
But he kept the armband on his left arm. Just in case.
-------------------
Hogsmeade.
In a modest cottage near the Three Broomsticks, Nathael woke to the soft patter of snow against the window. Beside him, Celestia lay curled on her special cushion, tail wrapped around her, eyes closed.
But at the sound of his movement, she opened one eye.
"At last!" she purred with a feline grin. "I thought you'd sleep until next Christmas."
Nathael yawned, running a hand through his tousled hair.
"Merry Christmas," he said, voice rough with sleep.
"Merry Christmas," Celestia replied, stretching elegantly. "And thank you… for the designer cloak. It arrived this morning. It's perfect."
Nathael smiled.
"You deserved it. After everything you've done for me."
He rose and walked to the window. Outside, Hogsmeade lay blanketed in snow; the cobbled streets shimmered in the morning light, and Christmas fairy lights twinkled softly along the eaves.
"Do you think they liked the gifts?" he asked, gazing at the horizon.
Celestia padded over and sat beside him, tail coiled neatly around her paws.
"Draco? He'll love his armband. Though he'll pretend not to."
"Hermione? She'll cry. Then treat that notebook like a sacred relic."
"Carrie? She'll keep the photo like it's treasure."
"Kate? She'll smile… and then come looking for you. I'm not surprised she hasn't barged in yet—her room's right next door."
Nathael chuckled softly.
"So… it wasn't all for nothing."
"It never is," Celestia said gently. "Especially when you give not just objects… but belonging."
They fell silent, watching the snow fall.
Somewhere far away, six souls were opening gifts wrapped in magic, friendship, and choice.
And in that moment—though none of them knew it—
the world had already grown a little warmer.