[1979]

The sky was a dark and barren canvas, which seemed like a fitting companion to the empty mansion that spilled its warm, yellow light onto the patio behind her. If Narcissa looked close enough, she could make out the subtle motion of the clouds, or maybe she was only seeing what she wanted. After all, one could only hope for clear skies and, if they should be so lucky, a healthy flurry on Christmas Day.

Somewhere up there, behind the foreboding veil of black, there were stars, and in her mind, she saw them clearly. Sirius, who was no doubt out boozing, or more likely passed out somewhere by now, sleeping off the heavy partying. Then there was Bellatrix, but there was no telling where exactly she was. No sense in even guessing. And Andro—no. Narcissa lowered her gaze to watch the peacocks in the yard below as they slept. That was one constellation she had to force herself to forget.

When she regained herself and trusted her eyes not to wander, Narcissa glanced back up and traced another constellation in her mind. Cygnus, who was probably already sleeping at this late hour with nothing compelling to keep him awake. Mother, naturally, would be beside him, and they would both owl in the morning after their lengthy wake-up routine to wish the Malfoy household a Merry Christmas. But next to that...

As her eyes slid to another invisible constellation, one she had grown to know slowly just over the past few months, she rested her hand on her slightly extended stomach. Even though she was only a few months along, already she knew her son would be Draco. Her little dragon. The most important stars in her sky.

There must be a shooting star somewhere in that vast expanse, right? Somewhere unseen, a star died and another was born. It seemed almost silly to wish on stars, and she had never been compelled to before, but her world was slowly changing and she needed a wish now more than ever.

"It's just you and I tonight," Narcissa whispered, rubbing her hand gently along her stomach. "Your father's out working, trying to make the world—what will soon be your world—a better place for you to live in."

Narcissa paused and allowed her eyes to linger on the void she knew was Andromeda for just a moment before tearing her gaze away.

"But everyone has a different idea of what the perfect world should be. So my wish for you, tonight and every night hereafter, is that the world will be whatever you want it to be."

The flutters in her stomach and the firm kicks assured her that her son was listening to her voice, even if he didn't yet understand the sentiment.

From somewhere in the depths of the house, the grandfather clock started to chime. Once, twice, thrice, and she counted with it all the way up to twelve.

"Merry Christmas, my little dragon."

...(~)...

[1984]

[4 years old]

Draco flexed his feet towards the fireplace and wiggled his toes, giggling at the way the heat made his soles feel warm and tingly. The grandfather clock in the other room began to chime, and he paused just long enough to count the tolls. One, two, three, four. He lost count somewhere around six, but the clock kept on going.

They had already eaten breakfast, so it was approaching lunchtime now. The presents were still wrapped under the tree, all dressed in colorful paper and enormous bows. Every now and then one would wiggle or make a strange sound, piquing his curiosity, and the anticipation was slowly killing him. Too much longer, and he was sure he'd simply explode.

"Mother?" Draco whined, picking himself off the floor and shuffling over to the large armchair she had spent the morning in. She was reading, and she hated being interrupted while she was in the middle of something, but this just couldn't wait. So he crept closer, only daring to peep slightly over the armchair to assess her reaction before going any further.

"What is it, love?" she asked, though her eyes remained glued to her book.

"When's Father coming home?" he asked into the arm of the chair so that the fabric muffled his words.

"Hm? You'll have to speak up. You're mumbling."

"When's Father coming home?" he asked again, louder this time.

"I haven't any idea. Your father's working, and you know how important his work is."

"Yeah, I know," Draco grumbled.

Mother paused from her reading and closed the book slightly, slipping a delicate finger between the pages so she wouldn't lose her spot.

"Are you sure you don't want to go ahead and just open your presents?"

"No! Father has to be here so we can open our presents together." Draco crossed his arms and stuck his lower lip out. Why didn't she get it? The Goyles all spent Christmas together. The Crabbes did, too. If it was good enough for them, then surely the Malfoys should be together for Christmas, too.

"Draco, my love." Mother set her book on the stand and pulled him into her lap. "Father works very hard for our future. Sometimes change requires sacrifice, and it requires bravery. I know you want him here, but you have to be strong. Can you do that? For Father?"

Draco crossed his arms tighter and pulled his knees to his chest, refusing to give up his pout. But Mother was giving him that look, the one that said she could do this all day if need be, so he begrudgingly nodded.

"What a good boy." Mother kissed him lightly on the forehead and smoothed his hair into place before setting him back on the ground and returning to her book.

The day passed with him jumping at every noise, expecting that at any moment he'd hear the Floo flare up and Father would step out. But the hours ticked by, counted by chimes on the clock, and he never showed.

The last thing Draco remembered was waking from where he had passed out in the big, comfy chair by the fire just long enough to hear the endless chimes. As he rolled over and fell back into a restless sleep, he realized, just in passing, that Christmas had already come and gone.

...(~)...

[1985]

[5 years old]

"Draco, my goodness, where are your manners? You need to chew your food," Mother nagged, not for the first time that evening.

"Others might mistake you for a barn animal. Tell me, are you a pig?" Father asked, delicately slicing a piece off his steak as he spoke.

"No, Father," Draco answered after he finished swallowing his mouthful of food.

"I should hope not."

Draco made sure to take smaller bites after that, but he didn't slow his pace any. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and they were all together for the first time he could remember. As far as he was concerned, Christmas Day couldn't come fast enough.

After shoving the last bit of food in his mouth, Draco slammed his silverware on the table triumphantly and announced, "All done! May I go to bed now?"

"Are you feeling all right, dear?" Mother asked, knitting her brows.

"Of course."

"Then why would you want to go to bed so early? It's only five."

"Because," Draco said, dragging out the vowels in a whine. "The sooner I go to bed, the sooner it's Christmas, and Santa can't come if I'm awake."

Mother and Father exchanged looks across the table, and even though he was too young to decipher the meaning, he understood that it wasn't good news.

"Where did you hear something like that?" Mother asked, setting aside her silverware and folding her hands in her lap as she studied him. Draco just shrugged.

"Dunno. Goyle, maybe?" Draco began to fidget in his seat. He didn't like the way they looked at him and then at each other. Mother continued to eye him curiously, but Father had already gone back to his meal as if there was nothing further to discuss.

"Well, that explains it," he said as he cut off a piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. As obvious as it all seemed to Father, Draco still didn't understand any of it. Was Santa supposed to be a secret and he had spoiled the surprise? He hadn't meant to, he was just so darn excited.

He must have still looked confused because Father continued between bites.

"Leave it to a Goyle to spread utter nonsense. You must remember, Draco, they're rather dull creatures. You can't trust everything they say."

There was a knot growing in the pit of Draco's stomach, and he was regretting having eaten his dinner so quickly. He was afraid to ask the question that lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he just had to know for sure.

"Do you mean...Santa's not real?"

"Use your head. Why would a wizard—and if he existed, of course Santa would be a wizard—spend all that time delivering presents to Muggle children, of all things? It's just absurd."

Father scoffed once more and returned to his meal with such fervor that it was clear he had said everything he intended to say. That suited Draco just fine. He wasn't sure he could handle any more than that anyway. Already, he felt the familiar sting of tears pricking his eyes, and it was all he could do to hold them back.

"May I...," he started, but he paused as his voice cracked. "May I be excused?"

"Of course, dear," Mother answered. Her eyes were locked on Father as she spoke, mouth pulled into a tight line. That meant no one was watching as he slipped out of his chair and began the slow, arduous walk upstairs like nothing was wrong. In reality, everything was.

Draco buried himself beneath his heavy comforter and curled into a ball as the first tears started to fall. Santa was the last thing he had to cling to. If he couldn't believe in that, then what exactly was there to believe in?

...(~)...

[1991]

[11 years old]

The moment he saw the raven-haired boy walking towards him, Draco braced himself for the impact. When their shoulders collided, the other boy was knocked off-balance, falling into the ginger beside him and nearly causing them both to topple over.

"Watch where you're going, Potter," Draco snapped, smiling smugly to himself. Potter may have snubbed his initial offer of friendship, and perhaps he'd overestimated the Boy-Who-Lived, but the last laugh would be his nonetheless.

"What's your problem?" Potter responded, rubbing his shoulder.

"I'm in a hurry, and you're in my way. See, I'm actually going home for Christmas, and my parents are waiting for me. But I suppose you don't know what that's like, do you?"

Anger lit up those emerald eyes in a rather satisfying way as Potter balled his hands into fists and his whole body tensed up. He relaxed only slightly when Weasley put a hand on his shoulder.

"Lay off, Malfoy" the ginger snapped, lips drawn tight as he tried to drag his friend away.

"Belt up, ginger. No one was talking to you. It's no wonder you're staying here. Can your family even afford Christmas presents?"

The wave of red that spread like wildfire across those pale, freckled cheeks was all the answer Draco needed.

"C'mon, Harry. Just ignore him," Weasley grumbled, pushing Harry along down the hallway. That suited Draco just fine. Playing with them was fun, but he didn't want to be late, either, and he hurried towards the Hogwarts Express.

When he disembarked at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Mother would be there waiting, as she had promised in her letter. They would chatter about mostly useless nonsense just to fill the silence, and they would go home and pretend that everything was just fine, but they both knew the truth. The large mansion would still feel empty on Christmas Day because Father wouldn't be there, yet again. At this point, no one expected him to be.

...(~)...

[1996]

[16 years old]

It was a relief, almost, the way the student body's spirit had been shattered. Draco knew, without a doubt, that he wouldn't have been able to stand the cheer and the merrymaking and the carols and the festivities. He may have tolerated it other years, but not this year.

"You'll be leaving me soon, won't you?" a voice whined next to him in high-pitched, unearthly tones. Draco glanced at her out of the corners of his eyes to find her with her arms crossed, lip stuck out in a pout. "You'll be heading home for Christmas and poor, sad Myrtle will be stuck sitting all alone on her toilet." The last word was practically shrieked, instigating a dull throb in his temple.

"Not now, Myrtle. I'm not in the mood," Draco snapped, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water on his face as if that would help calm his racing mind. It didn't.

He wanted nothing at all to do with Christmas. No mentions of it, no songs, no merriment. It was all a sham, anyway. What exactly was there to celebrate? The Wizarding world was currently at war, the future dangling in the balance, and his own father...

Draco splashed more water on his face, swallowing hard against the lump that was forming in his throat. In a week's time, Hogwarts students would be piling on the Hogwarts Express to head home for Christmas break. For the first time in his Hogwarts career, Draco wouldn't join them. What was the sense? Mother had been distant and distracted, and Father...Well, Father wouldn't be there, like always. Only, it was different this time.

He was the worst sort of coward. Mother needed him, locked in that large, empty mansion with nothing but the lowly staff for company. What a miserable Christmas it would be. Yet, he would abandon her, just as his Father had abandoned them, because he couldn't force himself to face the emptiness that lingered within Malfoy Manor. The atmosphere had been dark and stifling ever since Father had been sent to Azkaban. No Christmas at all would be better than that.

"You'll be happy to know, Myrtle," Draco said absentmindedly as he stared into his own cold, hollow eyes reflected back at him in the mirror, "that I won't be leaving for Christmas this year."

The ghost let out an excited shriek and proceeded to turn somersaults in the air, disappearing into one wall and reappearing out another. At the very least, he supposed, neither of them would be alone for Christmas. The only difference was this would be the best one she'd had, and for him, it would be the worst.

...(~)...

[1998]

[18 years old]

The excitement in the air was palpable, like small jolts of electricity that made his skin tingle. It was inconceivable how fast the Wizarding world healed, even though the war had only ended earlier that year and there had been some heavy losses. Draco didn't understand how everyone could be so jovial, given everything that had happened.

Yet, there it was. People were singing and laughing and talking in excited tones as they made their way to the Great Hall and waited to board the Hogwarts Express home. Draco had decided weeks ago that he wouldn't be among them. There was little left for him to go back to during the holidays at Malfoy Manor anyway, so he might as well devote the time to his studies and figuring out his future.

As he was looking out over the Great Hall from the top of the staircase, Draco was suddenly aware that someone had joined him and was leaning over the rail beside him. When he turned to look, he found two dreamy, far-away eyes staring out through wavy, blonde hair, examining their peers.

"Isn't it wonderful? The Christmas spirit, I mean. This is my favorite time of year." Luna's voice was even and melodic, and despite himself, Draco found himself relaxing as she spoke as if her words were a lullaby.

"It's all right, I guess," Draco answered. It was a lie, of course. He couldn't stand anything at all about the season, but if he said that then she'd keep on pressing for a reason, and that wasn't a conversation he particularly wanted to have. Certainly not with her, of all people. Why was she even talking to him in the first place?

"Are you not going home?" Luna asked, looking around for his bag. Draco simply shook his head. "It's just my father and I. Has been for a while. But I can't imagine not going home. We have all these traditions. Don't you have anything like that?"

Draco shook his head again. He couldn't recall anything like that, now that he thought about it. When he was younger, he and Mother would decorate, and the mansion would look splendid and breathtaking. Ever since he was six or so, though, the House-Elves had handled the decorating, as well. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that not every household did Christmas the way they did, though he could hardly fathom it going any other way.

"Here, take this." Luna fished around in her pocket and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe with a Dirigible plum dangling off of it. "We decorate the house with these, but you can have this one. The mistletoe is supposed to bring you good luck, and the Dirigible plum not only opens you up to receive the good vibes of the season, it also conveniently keeps away the nargles."

Draco accepted it reluctantly, and only because Luna was staring at him with those big, patient eyes that implied she wouldn't be satisfied until he did so. Who knew what sort of disgusting things had infested it by now, not to mention how hideous it looked in general. There was no way he would hang something like this anywhere. As soon as he got back to the common rooms, he vowed to put it where it belonged—the garbage.

"Merry Christmas, Draco," Luna said, offering a smile and a little wave before grabbing her bag and making her way down the final stairs and towards the front door.

He still had no idea what she wanted or what her motives were, but this was the first time this year that someone outside of Slytherin had shown him any kindness, not that he could blame them.

Draco turned the sprig over in his palm, the needles prickly against his skin. Maybe he'd hang it up over his bunk after all. It wasn't like there was anyone left in his dorm to see it, anyway, and he could definitely use some luck at this point. Maybe things would slowly start to change for the better.

...(~)...

[1999]

[19 years old]

"Keep your eyes closed. No peeking."

Luna's hand was soft in his, and in that moment, Draco realized the amount of trust she was putting in him as he lead her across the grounds of Malfoy Manor. It was mind-boggling and ill-advised, but for some reason, she was confident that he would keep her safe while her eyes were closed, and he had no intention of letting her down in that regard.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. Call it an early Christmas present."

They hadn't been dating for long, but Draco was determined to make this Christmas—their first Christmas together—memorable. While it was true that she would spend Christmas with her father, as always, Christmas Eve was theirs, and with a bit of advice from Mother, he'd somehow managed to muddle his way through preparing what he hoped would be the perfect gift.

He stopped at the bank of the small pond, several feet from the water, and took a deep breath. It was the moment of truth.

"All right, you can open your eyes."

He watched with baited breath as her eyelids fluttered for a moment before revealing the brilliant sapphires underneath.

"Oh, Draco," she breathed, sweeping her gaze over it all. The moon was already rising over the trees in the distance, cascading a soft silver over everything. The pond's surface was dressed in dark velvet, occasionally reflecting the green and yellow flashes of the fireflies that hovered over it.

Brandishing his wand, Draco lit the candles he had laid out beside the pond, and the soft flicker of firelight revealed the satin sheet decked out with an array of foods, each sitting atop beautiful china.

"It's beautiful!" Luna declared, smiling as she took it all in.

Yes, it was, he thought as he watched the light reflecting in her eyes and the wonder in her face. Perhaps this was the so-called "magic of Christmas" that everyone spoke so highly of.

...(~)...

[2001]

[21 years old]

Draco thumbed the mistletoe resting in his palm. Time had already started to wear it, even though it was only a few years old. They had broken up earlier that year, and while he had begun the process of moving on during the several months since, Christmas brought it all back.

They weren't right for each other, and the split had been mutual. She had jumped on the opportunity to apprentice for a well-known magizoologist, and he was getting ready to spend the next several years pursuing higher education in alchemy. They wanted different things out of life, and even from the start, they were far too different to make it work. But he regretted none of it, not the beginning and certainly not the end.

Clutching the decoration in one hand, Draco took the stairs two-by-two and made his way into the study, where the family's Christmas tree stood, beautifully decorated with neatly-wrapped presents tucked underneath.

"Good morning," he said to Mother as he passed, who was sitting in a chair staring into the fire when he entered.

"Morning, Draco. What's that you have there?" she asked as he hung the mistletoe on the tree.

"It's mistletoe. For good luck."

"And, uh, the other thing?" Mother wrinkled her nose as she looked past him at the ornament. Draco had to admit that it was a bit of an eyesore, especially in contrast to the rest of the carefully trimmed tree, but that was part of its charm. It stood out, just like the woman who had given it to him.

"It's a Dirigible plum. Or it was. I suppose it's seen better days. It keeps the nargles away."

"Uh-huh. Of course." Mother raised her brows, but her lips turned up in a small smile all the same as she rested her chin on her hand.

"Not that I believe in them, the silly, contrived creatures. It's just..."

"I think it's lovely, Draco. It's a nice touch."

She was lying, of course. Mother did this thing where she played with her wedding ring any time she flat-out lied, but as long as she was willing to humor him, he had no intention of pressing the issue.

Draco picked up a small box, wrapped in silver paper and topped with a green bow, from underneath the tree. It was special. The House-Elves generally did the holiday shopping, but he had wasted three weeks of his own time hunting its contents down, deciding on what the perfect gift would be.

Without a word, he crossed the room, placing it in her delicate hands. The surprise on her face was enough to have made the time spent worth it, without her even opening it.

Her hands trembled slightly as she peeled back the wrapping to reveal the velvet box underneath, and she gasped as she opened the lid. It was a pair of earrings shaped like a star flare, decorated with diamonds, and enchanted so that they twinkled at intervals.

"Merry Christmas, Mother," Draco whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

In a soft, wavering voice, she answered, "Thank you, my little dragon," as she hastily brushed away the single tear that slid down her cheek.

...(~)...

[2005]

[25 years old]

Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Step after step, Luna focused on her walking. For the first time in a very long time, she was completely and utterly lost. It was Christmas—the multi-colored lights and biting cold reminded her of that—but it didn't feel like Christmas. This year was the first year she would spend feeling truly and utterly alone.

Luna stopped when she realized that she had finally made it to a familiar place. Only a few stones off. She took the last few steps and stopped in front of a granite slab that was topped with the sculpture of a heliopath. Despite telling herself every step of the way that she wouldn't cry, a tear burned a cold trail down her face as she traced the name with her eyes.

Xenophilius Lovegood

Four months, two weeks, and three days since her father had died from a sudden illness. Some days were easier than others, but as much as she had tried to prepare herself for it, Christmas was harder than she had ever imagined.

"I miss you, Daddy," she confessed to the silent night, and the cold wind carried her words away in a puff of white smoke. Maybe they would find their way to him.

She was getting ready to continue walking to Merlin knows where—anywhere away from there—when something caught her eye. There was a decoration stuck to the side of the stone with a spell, bouncing against it with each gust of wind. Luna cupped her palm around it to get a better look.

When she realized what it was, she couldn't help but laugh, even as a few more tears crawled down her face. It was faded from time and wear, even though a spell had been cast at some point in an attempt to better preserve it. Still, there was no mistaking the mistletoe, nor the slightly petrified remains of a Dirigible plum.

Though her father had expressed concerns when she had started dating the man he insisted on referring to as a "that former Death Eater," there was only one thing Luna regretted from her time with Draco. She never thanked him for reminding her, right when she was about to give up hope, what it meant to believe.

This was the second time he had saved her from the brink of despair, in his own way, and the biggest travesty was that he would never know it. As Luna made her way back home, where she was hoping Rolf would be waiting after his trip abroad, she sent good vibes out into the atmosphere that wherever he was, Draco how much his small gesture had meant.

...(~)...

[2000]

[20 years old]

Luna pressed her forehead against the window, watching large snowflakes falling lazily from the gray sky. There was already a blanket of snow that made the countryside look pristine and fresh, and they were supposed to get another inch or two by that night.

"Are you sure about this, Luna? I mean really, truly sure?" Dad asked for probably the tenth time that morning.

"I am."

"But he's a Death Eater. You know that."

"He was a Death Eater."

"You know all the horrible things he did, and yet you still insist on this?"

She had hidden their relationship as long as she could for fear of upsetting her father, but there had never been secrets between them and she didn't want to start now, so she had confessed that she was seeing Draco Malfoy. Her father wasn't thrilled about the idea, and she could hardly blame him. Like most parents, he just wanted her to be safe and happy.

"Is it so much to ask that I get to spend Christmas with two people I care about this year?" Luna asked, turning to face her father, who clenched his jaw against the question.

"If it means that much to you, sweetie, then I'd be happy to have him, and I promise I'll behave myself."

He took the last few steps to close the gap between them and pulled her into a tight hug. When he finally released her, he stepped back and studied her face for a moment.

"Well, I suppose if he's going to be here, we'll have to put up some extra decorations. Plus, with all that negative energy, for sure we'll have to have more protection against nargles. They're drawn to that stuff, you know. Nothing they love more."

Dad was still mumbling to himself as he left the room, presumably to collect more things. He was in such a good mood, especially after having had the idea of Draco spending Christmas with them sprung on him, but Luna couldn't help but feel her Christmas spirit plummet at the mention of nargles.

She had already begun her apprenticeship training with a magizoologist that she liked and respected, so when he had originally laughed off her belief in the creatures her father had always talked about, she figured he wasn't as good at his job as he claimed to be. But as time went on and she had started traveling and studying herself, something inside her shifted. Was it possible that it was Dad who had been wrong all these years? Was it all really lies, everything she'd grown to believe in?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a whoosh from the fireplace as the flames turned green and a platinum-blond man stepped out from them, shaking off his robes.

"Am I late?" he asked. As Dad walked back into the room with a small box of things, he added, "Or am I too early?"

"No, no, you're right on time. We're just putting up some finishing touches," Dad said, holding up a small wreath made of mistletoe, Dirigible plums, and a few decorative flowers.

"For the nargles, right?"

Dad hesitated, but Luna could tell that he was impressed. It wasn't exactly a response he would've expected, especially the way it was delivered with no taunting or malice.

"Indeed."

Dad handed the wreath to him and motioned to a corner of the room. Draco glanced at her as if she was supposed to save him, but Luna merely shrugged. Resigned to his fate, Draco drew his wand and went to hang the wreath where he was told.

"Do you remember this, sweetie?" Dad asked as he pulled a small statue from the box. It looked like a horse mid-gallop except its mane and feet were on fire.

"Mum made it," Luna said as she ran a finger over the smooth, cool surface.

"What is it?" Draco asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"A heliopath."

Luna smiled as she remembered the stories Mum used to tell about all sorts of creatures as she pulled Luna into her lap and did her hair. It was the only way to keep her still back then, and after that, Luna had squirmed just so Mum would be forced to tell her stories.

"They don't really exist, do they?" Draco asked, and Luna's chest tightened at the skepticism in his voice. It had only recently occurred to her that this might be yet another myth perpetuated by her parents. She didn't want to believe it was all a lie, but the older she got, the harder it was becoming to cling to those beliefs. "I mean, there's no proof of them. No one's ever seen them."

"You've never seen the wind, either, have you? Would you argue that it doesn't exist?"

"Well, no, of course not." Draco scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"You don't have to see something to believe in it." Dad set the sculpture on the mantle and brushed away a layer of dust as he smiled at it. Luna was sure he was thinking of Mum. They missed her equally, especially at Christmastime. "There are plenty of things that people believe in that they can't see. Like instincts and gut reactions. Like heliopaths. Like nargles. Like...like..."

"Santa Claus?" Draco offered, and Dad burst out laughing. It made her smile to see him like that, as he clasped a hand on Draco's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Precisely! Santa encourages children to behave and gives them something to look forward to. He represents a different sort of magic than any witch or wizard can produce. People do countless good deeds in his name around this time of year. But just because you've never seen him, doesn't mean he doesn't exist, and even if he doesn't, is it a bad thing to believe in him?"

"Um, no?" Draco said, more of a question than an answer.

"Of course not. Never stop believing. Oh, and put this over there, if you don't mind," Dad added, handing Draco a bouquet of petrified flowers in a worn-out vase that was meant to ward off troublesome spirits.

Draco looked thoroughly out of his element, and he kept fidgeting with his robes, but he was there and that was the most important part. Luna smiled as Dad handed him item after item and he put each in its proper place. Even if he didn't really understand why they were doing it, he did it anyway.

Her father's words still echoed in her mind. Never stop believing. So what if there was no evidence that nargles or heliopaths even existed? Maybe they hadn't been discovered yet, and maybe they'd never be discovered, but at that moment, Luna decided she would never doubt again. For better or worse, she would always continue to believe.

Author's Note: Written for the Secret Santa exchange in Diagon Alley II. Merry Christmas to the one and only Tigger (whitetiger91), who I drew from the virtual magical hat. Sorry this is so late and thank you for understanding! Since her favorite person in the world is Draco, I figured I'd do a Draco-centric Christmas feels piece. Hope you enjoy. :3

Prompts:

- "Winter Heavens" by George Meredith

- (character) Xenophilius Lovegood

- (situation) fluff with a twist