December 15th, 1895 — High Street

Endellion's eyes practically sparkled as she took in the wonderment that was Christmas in Hogsmeade. It was her first Christmas living by herself outside the orphanage and she was absolutely in love with the holiday but was beginning to wonder if she were not just a tad too joyful if that were even a thing that one could be. She was convinced she was taking far too many liberties and enjoying things just a tad too much. Afterall she probably wasn’t allowed to love it all quite so much.

All the finery and decorations were just humbug - nonsense, things meant to deceive and lead people astray. The Yuletide season was meant to be one of giving, of service and charity to the greater good and to honour the Lord. They were for rich people to enjoy and certainly not for the likes of her. She knew that. She truly did. The lessons had been drilled into her since childhood, and spoken sternly from the mouths of the caretakers and benefactors alike... however as she watched High Street become bathed in Christmas merriment - as the shopfronts became adorned with tinsel[b], glittering [b]ornaments, and beautiful fresh [b]evergreen boughs, and the sounds of carollers caroling filled the air she couldn't help but feel slightly intoxicated by the whole atmosphere.

She found herself longing to decorate and celebrate the holiday alongside everyone else and resolved that whilst a tree was a bit much for her maybe a wreath could suffice. She imagined hanging it in her tiny room and watching it cast mysterious shadows caused by firelight and sparkling with quiet cheer. It would be a nice present to herself she thought and then immediately decided against it.

She could already hear Aunt Lydia's voice clearly in her head lecturing her about money and superfluous fineries and things that were wasted on somebody like her. It was almost as if her ghost was whispering in her ear … if she were dead, which she was not. Endellion knew this for a fact as she had visited the orphanage quite recently and whilst the reunion had left much to be desired it had proved that Aunt Lydia still remained amongst the living.

She paused outside the florist’s shop, staring at the wreathes displayed in the window. Oh, how they were lovely - far lovelier than anything she might make herself and, having never been properly taught she knew all her attempts would simply end in failure.

  

---

Endellion Dee

I am made of quiet things—moonlight, memory, and the ache of belonging.

Maggie was on a much needed day off, the tea room at the hospital had become something of a centre for festivities for hospital staff and as such she was being run ragged. But the tips from the wealthy doctors when she topped up their nog for the umpteenth time made it worth it. So worth it in fact that for the first time in her life she felt like she actually had excess money. So she was going to the shops to buy something, a treat for herself, but also a christmas gift for her best friend.

As she made her way down the street she spotted someone, a flash of long red hair that could only be Miss Dee from the hospital. She was a few years older than Maggie but they had chatted several times when she visited the tea rooms, and once when Maggie had received a steam burn from one of the pots.

"Miss Dee! Miss Dee! How lovely to see you. Can I join you?" she scampered up level with the older mediwitch.

---

Endellion Dee

  

---