[December 23rd – From Daphne to Jon]
Dear Jon,
If you opened the gift early, I hope you stubbed your toe on a vanishing step and spilled tea down your front, all while Filch watched with delight. That said, if you did wait, I'm mildly impressed. Mildly. Don't let it go to your oversized head.
Home is exactly as chaotic, aristocratic, and wildly boring as I feared. Mother's version of holiday spirit involves dragging me through pureblood gatherings where the most exciting conversation I had was with a soup ladle that tried to hex itself out of embarrassment. One bloke tried to impress me by reciting three spells—two of which weren't even real. I told him my best friend once recited seven while half-asleep and insulting a Ravenclaw prefect. He did not laugh. Or blink. Possibly a statue.
I miss Hogwarts. Specifically, I miss you looking like a Victorian ghost loitering in our library corner. I miss your sighs that sound like they're judging my handwriting, your habit of rolling your eyes mid-paragraph, and your ability to make every sarcastic remark feel like a challenge. You made the chaos feel... manageable. And I loathe how sentimental that sounds.
As for your gift—well, I'm not going to tell you what it is yet. You'll have to figure it out yourself. And no, it's not cursed. (Probably.) But I did choose it with you in mind. That's all I'll say.
Write me back properly. I want details. Drama. House-elf gossip. Bonus points if Peeves tried to juggle flobberworms.
Do not go full brooding lone-wolf on me.
Your favorite verbal sparring partner, Daphne
P.S. If you opened it early, I will find out. And you know I'm petty enough to get revenge creatively.
[December 25th – From Jon to Daphne]
Daphne,
The mystery gift has been unwrapped—on the correct day, mind you—and I must admit: you win this round.
It's silver. Smooth. Understated. And yet... not. The engraving? Raven and snake? Clever. Too clever. Which means I now have to spend the next week pretending I'm not deeply affected by how perfectly it fits me. Emotionally. Symbolically. Existentially. Ugh.
I put it on and didn't take it off. I even wore it while brewing tea and glaring at the fireplace. A passing professor raised an eyebrow at it. I pretended not to notice. No questions asked—which is exactly how I like it.
I sat in our library spot again. Tried to read. Failed. Thought about writing you instead. Success.
You'll be pleased to know your gift was delivered this morning. What's inside? Well... I'm not going to tell you either. Where's the fun in that? I want you to figure it out. And no, it's not enchanted to bite you. (Probably.)
Let's just say the pieces are elegant and subtle. A bit like you, on a good day, when you're not threatening to hex someone's teeth into snakes.
Write back. Don't keep me waiting.
Yours in dramatic fashion, Jon
P.S. Don't be ashamed to say that you love my gifts when you wear them.
[December 27th – From Daphne to Jon]
Jon,
Your gift arrived.
It's—no, wait. I'm not going to tell you what I think of it. Not yet. Because turnabout is fair play, and you didn't explain yours either.
What I will say is that my mother fainted. My sister confiscated the earrings "for closer inspection." I hexed her hair pink. There were tears. I laughed.
I've worn the necklace every day since. Not because it's stunning (it is), or because it feels like something from a person who knows me better than anyone else (you do), but because when I catch my reflection, it's like seeing a version of me that's braver. Calmer. Possibly more stylish. But let's not get carried away.
It took me a full hour to realize you chose the emeralds deliberately. I'm still suspicious of the sentiment. Stop being secretly sweet. It ruins your entire surly mystique.
I can't wait to meet you again Jon.
Yours in chaos and charm, Daphne
P.S. I will give you the credit that your gift is very lovely. Where did you get these from.
[December 30th – From Jon to Daphne]
Daphne,
You're insufferable. Not because you hexed your sister (honestly, applause), but because you're making me feel things. Quiet, complicated things. And you didn't even tell me what your gift was meant to mean. Now I'm stuck here, overanalyzing jewelry.
The bracelet? It's become something I check. Like a ward. A reminder. Which is stupid, because it's just silver. But it isn't. And I know it. And worse—you know I know it.
I saw someone today who reminded me of you. Tall. Slytherin robes. Eyebrows sharp enough to cut through lies. Then they spoke and mispronounced "expelliarmus." I almost wept.
Come back soon. I need someone to throw paper balls at in the library.
Jon
P.S. I'm still wearing the bracelet. I don't think it's ever going to leave my wrist.