Paper Confines

xxxiv. Silver Spoons

PAPER CONFINES.
34. / Silver Spoons

✶

Nadya sat in her empty dormitory and did not sleep.

She wished there'd been an excess of Eddie's modified Living Death stoppered in her pillowcase or hidden in a cupboard, but everything they'd made was draining through pipes now. It was too risky to keep. Still—the point stood; she couldn't sleep. Reid and the investigator Dawlish hadn't said explicitly where the Knights were being accommodated before the trial, but it was safe to assume they were musing over evidence in their estates with all manner of professionals, their parents besides.

Nadya's own father was learned in muggle law, but that was useless now, and he wasn't here.

Still, she had bought presents in London that summer and didn't want them to go to waste, so wrapped them quite badly on the eve of Christmas Eve, half-bruised and sore from Knights who were notably absent. It did little to comfort her: their absence was their preparation, despite Reid's assurances.

Nadya reached solemnly toward a small box at the foot of her bed.

Amoret's gift. Somewhat sacramental an act, a promise—as Nadya wove indigo ribbon around the wrapping—that she would not lose hope. That promise had her mother's voice in it. It held her strong. Nadya scrawled in thick ink on the top side of a rattling box:

For when you come home x

The others she carried in one hand and a trouser pocket through the deserted corridors of Christmas Eve morning, restless and showing it. On her way out of the dungeons, she stumbled only upon a guilty Professor Slughorn, who stuttered his biddings of merriment and scurried off somewhere. She skipped on attending breakfast for cold pudding and overly rich cinnamon tea. Whatever first years eagerly remained at school over break could have the house elves scraps for themselves.

The door at Ravenclaw Tower asked a stupid riddle and let her in. Nadya refrained from telling it it was stupid because it was Christmas.

The walk from the dungeons gave her time to adjust to the light, but the initial assault on her vision from the high, arcing windows still had her shielding her eyes. After a moment of pause, she could appreciate the view. The common room was more beautiful at this time of year than any, star-strewn and glittering, the corner tree shedding over its tartan skirt but still magnificent. It was small, sincere magic like this that made Nadya feel unordinary. More than cauldron clouds and curses, it was ceramic swans wading the tree bowl, snowfall that didn't melt, tinsel glowing like light organs of fireflies—magic for no purpose than to be beautiful and celebratory.

Claude came down the stairs in the ugliest jumper she had ever seen. "Did Christmas come early?"

"Oh my god."

He had a crooked grin on his face and his hands in his pyjama pockets, lazing across the first sofa he found. Nadya appreciated that she couldn't decide whether his joke was worse than his outfit.

"Where's the rest of your house?" she asked resignedly, tucking Colette's gift under the tree.

"What's left of them, you mean? On the morning trip to Hogsmeade, I expect. Where's your—Colette?"

"Giggling to herself at successfully getting me in a room alone with you?" Nadya flopped onto an opposite sofa. "Probably."

Claude snorted. "Is that often a challenge for you? Spending time with a friend?"

Practically on instinct she went to protest the term, but groaned and tossed him something from her pocket to shut him up. Claude's eyes went wide as it flew but he caught it clumsily in both hands. His eyes lit up.