I opened the door to my house, and the scent of mums baking bit my nose. Cinnamon apple pie. Why was this the smell that made me burst out in sobs? Perhaps it was how homely it was, maybe it made me feel safe and comfortable to cry. Either way, the crying started abruptly. Wailing even.

I had wasted a whole year on a guy simply because of my own shallowness. I knew I didn't love him, and I led him on. This whole time I knew but didn't want to admit it.

"Is everything ok?" My mom stumbled out of the kitchen and ran towards me.

I couldn't formulate any words and just fell into her arms. The tears just kept coming, and it almost felt good to cry all of my emotions out. I cried into my mother's shoulder as she held me close.

"I take it the date didn't go well." My mom sighed, patting my back.

~~~~

I woke up early Christmas morning shivering. The sunlight already shone through my window, and I could see a snowstorm outside and one of the window panels open. I groaned and reached over to my wand. The window shut with a bang when I whispered a spell.

I sat up, and let my feet dangle off my bed, feeling the cold air nip at my exposed skin. The fire in my fireplace died out overnight, and so I could see puffs of my own breath cloud in front of me.

Mitch was perched in her usu spot, but her feathers were puffed out to stay warm. Her eyes were closed.

The Woods were coming over again. Mum always insisted on hosting Christmas celebrations.

Agh, I had promised to help my mom with preparations.

I could already hear the clattering of pots, pans and whatnot coming from downstairs.

I lazily got dressed, and went downstairs.

My mom's back was to me, and there was a large pot floating next to her and she herself was actively charming something to stir.

"Do you even need help?" I asked groggily.

"Yes, I need you to start charming decorations in the dining room." She responded without looking back at me; too engrossed in whatever she was preparing.

I sighed and dragged my feet out of the kitchen. Not even the good smells in the kitchen were really making me hungry. Since the break up I wasn't really in the mood to eat, nor was I feeling particularly hungry.

I did not love Vincent, this I knew for certain, but that was really helping. It was my first real relationship after all, even if there was no real love in it. And what about what happened between us? How must Vincent feel to be left right after he thought our relationship reached a peak?

There was a sort of selfish desire I harboured for him to come back to me and ask for me back. I wouldn't say yes, but maybe saying no again would make me feel better about my decision. Fucked up, isn't it? How the mind works sometimes...

I knew Vincent wouldn't come knocking at my door or calling for me ever again. His pride and chivalry would not let him. In the end, I was sure Vincent would agree with my decision.

My thoughts distracted me from my work and it seemed only moments flew by before the living room was warmly lit and well decorated.

The table was covered in a white cloth with beautiful gold trimmings on which tiny drawn horses were galloping. It was set with beautiful China dishes and silver cutlery. Candles floated around the table, and the fire softly crackled in the corner of the room.

"Wow Y/n," my mom walked in the room behind me, "Impressive work!"

"Thank you." I blushed, and she ruffled my hair.

"Now go get changed into something a bit nicer," She gave me a side-eye, "The Woods are going to arrive in less than thirty minutes."

I glanced at the grandfather clock next to the door. It was one o'clock in the evening.

~~~~

I sported a large beige crew neck sweater with a white turtleneck underneath. My jeans were far too big and I held them up with a belt high on my waist. Although mom wanted me to dress better than usual, I couldn't bring myself to look any better, nor did I really care for that matter.

I heard a gentle rapping on the main door, and I quickly rushed downstairs.

Outside stood Mr. and Mrs. Wood. Behind them was Oliver. The snowstorm was so bad that even though it was evident they were outside for only a few minutes, they were already completely powdered in snow.

"Oh hello, dearie!" Mrs. Wood threw her arms around me and plated a greeting peck on my cheek; I towered over her by at least a head, and she had to tiptoe to do so.

"Hello, Mrs. Wood." I smiled.

I let them in, and while Oliver's parents immediately went to greet my mom, Oliver lingered back.

"Are you going to help me up to my room or what?" He smirked amiably.

"You come here nearly every year, you have to know where it is by now." I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry, I must've forgotten again." Oliver grinned ear to ear, and I felt myself chuckle.

"Alright," I shrugged, "Follow me into your sleeping chambers oh dear guest."

I walked up the stairs and heard Oliver's agile footfall behind me. My heartbeat quickened. No, I mustn't focus on my feelings right now. I just got out of a relationship for fucks sake, not to mention Oliver didn't like me like that.

"Welcome to your temporary residence," I pushed open the door to the guest bedroom, and Oliver marched in.

"A little cheap, but it will do for now." He scoffed pretentiously, trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

"If you don't like it, the hotel on the downstairs rug still has room for you." I bowed.

Oliver placed down his things and walked to the window. His long wool coat hung in a relaxed manner on his broad shoulders. There was still snow on him, and the hat covering his short brunette hair had a layer of snow stuck to its fibres. He looked to be in a cheery mood, and that lightened my own mood exponentially.

"So where's Ford?" He asked curiously, looking out the window.

"Oh," I felt a lump forming in my throat, "He couldn't make it this Christmas."

"Really?" Oliver did a double-take as if that being the most unbelievable thing I've ever said, "How come?"

"In love with him or something, Woody?" I snickered, trying to dodge the question.

"I'd assume you are." He shrugged.

"I suppose so." I smiled sadly.

We stood in silence for another moment before Oliver perked up.

"Would you like to go on a walk?" He offered.

"In a snowstorm?" My eyebrows darted up.

"Well, I don't see why not?" He nodded.

"Me neither," I broke out into a grin, "Let's go."

"Well that was easy," Oliver snickered, "I was just expecting another fit of resistance."

~~~~

We walked through the snowy streets. Snow whipped at our faces and we could not see over twenty feet in front of us. The sound of our footfall was accompanied by the crunching of snow and ice.

"Where are we even going?" Oliver asked, adjusting his hat.

"To get coffee." I replied casually, "You have money, I hope?"

"Of course I do, Stone." Oliver grinned, "And of course you are expecting me to pay."

"Precisely so." I nodded, letting out a giggle.

"And what if I don't?" He challenged, crossing his arms playfully.

"But you will." I smiled, looking up and into his eyes.

"Charming." Oliver sighed.

It was really cold, and I scolded myself for not wearing gloves. My hands were completely frozen, and I couldn't feel my fingertips. Oliver noticed my strange hand movements and put two and two together.

"Stone you are impossible." Oliver groaned and took off his gloves.

"I'm fine, really." I grit my teeth, feeling grateful for the pair of gloves I was about to receive.

"Here, he shoved the gloves into my hands.

I tried to hold on to them but my hands felt s frozen that the gloves fell right onto the snow.

"Shit," Oliver grabbed the gloves off the ground, "Give me your hands."

I stretched my hands out to him, and he cupped them, rubbing his warmth into my freezing skin as though to thaw it. He didn't look at me, too focused on warming up my hands to help them produce their own heat, but I looked at him. Snow fell on his clothes and eyelashes. His lips and cheeks flew red from the cold. His face was showing the look of pure concentration, and my heart did a flip as if trying to jump out of my chest.

Oliver put his gloves on my now warmed-up hands and snickered.

"Thank you." I gave a simper.

"So what coffee shop do you think would be open during this weather anyway?" Oliver asked, dismissing my gratitude.

"The one we were at two Christmas ago." I said, "At least it should be."

"Why?" Oliver raised his eyebrows.

"Well my dad and I," I paused, contemplating whether I wanted to talk about my father, "I remember six years ago when he took me to see the woods during wintertime, you know, the ones on the outskirts of town. When we were heading back a snowstorm hit, much worse than this one. My dad offered to sit it out at the coffee shop, and so we did." I smiled at the memory, and so did Oliver. "Speak of the devil, we're here."

I swung open the door and we entered the shop. Warmth and the smell of baked goods hit me all at once. Mr. Barnes was sitting behind the cash register reading a newspaper.

"Oh hello dear!" He looked up, "Perfect weather for a hot chocolate don't you think?"

"That's actually exactly what we came here for." I giggled, "He's paying."

"It's on the house." Mr. Barnes laughed, shaking his head.

"Huh?" I stumbled.

"Merry Christmas." He beamed at us, and sauntered into the kitchen, "Two large hot chocolates with extra cream and marshmallows coming right up."

Oliver and I sat down at the table next to the window. I took off my coat and hung it on the back of my chair.

"So what are your plans?"He asked.

"Plans for what?" I tilted my head.

"The future."

"Well, I would love to make it onto Puddlemere United or at least Hollyhead harpies." I reasoned, "Travel the world while playing quidditch... The dream."

"I guess we really do have the same goal." Oliver smirked, "Imagine we both succeed and become teammates."

"Us, teammates?" I snorted, "Please, that's about as likely as June liking a guy."

"My bad, I keep forgetting that you're worse of a player than me." He jived.

"We both know it's the other way around." I rolled my eyes, "After all, it was my leadership that led Ravenclaw to winning the cup my very first year as captain."

"Pure luck and leftover players from the previous captain," Oliver waved his hand in the air, "Dumbledore chose you as captain because he pitied you."

"I could say the same thing about you." I narrowed my eyes.

"Here you are," Mr. Barnes suddenly appears from behind us and slides our drinks on the table.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes," Oliver and I said identically.

"Now I take it you both go to the same private school, as quidditch isn't something I've ever heard of before." He chuckled.

"It's a sport a few kids in my class made up." Oliver fibbed, running a hand nervously through his hair.

"You youngins are quite innovative in those things aren't ya?" Mr. Barnes hummed thoughtfully.