𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍 ⦊ 𝘩. 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 ✓ {editing}

― ix. weatherby

The next morning, Harry woke to the sound of her laughter. Squinting behind his glasses, he saw Edelyn on Ron's bed, wearing a loose-fitting yellow knitted jumper with the letter 'E' stitched on the front. She held something shimmery in her hands. 

"There you are, Won-Won," she cooed, eyes brimmed with tears of joy. Around Ron's neck hung a thick gold chain from which dangled the letters « my sweetheart ».

"She can't honestly think I'd wear this!" Ron protested, face pale in horror as he quickly took the necklace off and shoved it under his pillow.

"Oh, but Ronniekins, it's classy," Edelyn teased. 

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "How could Lavender think I'd like something like that?" he demanded.

Edelyn puckered her brow. "Well, think back..." she hummed, "have you ever let it slip in conversation that you'd — you know — like to go out in public with the words my sweetheart around your neck?"

Ron spluttered. His ears burned scarlet. "We don't really...really talk much, do we? It's mainly—"

"—snogging."

Edelyn and Ron jumped and looked over at Harry's camp bed.

"Uh, morning," Ron greeted, shooting a nervous glance at Edelyn.

"Yeah, morning," Harry awkwardly returned. 

Edelyn returned her focus to Ron. "See you downstairs," she said and dashed out the room. 

"Don't worry, mate," Ron said, catching the disappointment in Harry's face. "She'll come around soon enough."

Before long, everyone was wearing the new jumpers that Mrs Weasley had knit them and was sat down for Christmas lunch. Harry's eyes trailed to Mrs Weasley who was happily wearing a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny starlike diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

"Fred and George gave them to me," she explained. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum," began George.

"Now we're washing our own socks," finished Fred.

"And thanks for picking them out," George whispered to Edelyn. 

The lunch passed merrily. To Harry's great delight, Edelyn spoke to him for the first time in over a week. Though it was only to politely ask him to pass her the gravy, he felt that it was something. Small steps. He thought to himself. 

In his eagerness to do so, however, he knocked the gravy goat flying. 

"Careful!" Bill flicked his wrist and saved the gravy from spilling all over the table.

Fred rubbed his temples and watched as the corners of Edelyn's mouth pulled upward. 

They were all in mid-conversation when Mrs Weasley suddenly shouted, "Arthur!" She had risen from her chair, a hand pressed against her heart as she stared out of the kitchen window. "Arthur — it's Percy."

"What?!"

Everyone hastily glanced out the window, and sure enough, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight, was Percy Weasley, accompanied by none other than—

"Arthur," Mrs Weasley breathed. "He's — he's with the Minister!" 

Twenty seconds later, the back door swung open and in came the third eldest Weasley child with Rufus Scrimgeour. A painful silence ensued before Percy spoke stiffly, "Merry Christmas, Mum."