Cassius awoke to the muted sound of laughter echoing faintly through the floorboards.
The faint scent of pine, cinnamon, and something sweet — cocoa perhaps — drifted into his room.
Light filtered through the curtains in pale gold strips, softened by the lingering snow outside.
It was the kind of morning he'd once had, long ago, in his former lifetime, decades ago now.
For a moment, he simply lay there, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, trying to remember when he had last woken up somewhere that felt like peace, with little to no agenda in mind, so studying to do, no spell training.
Never, perhaps in this lifetime.
Pulling on the ugly christmas sweater he'd gotten the house elves of House Draconis to knit for him much to their glee for the request, Cassius stepped into the hallway.
The sound of voices grew clearer — cheerful, teasing.
The grangers it seems were early risers, especially with today being the muggle holiday of christmas.
He descended the stairs quietly, each creak of wood loud in the soft domestic hush.
The living room was warm, bright, alive.
The Christmas tree dominated one corner — tall, decked in gold ribbons, ornaments of porcelain and glass, and a single shining star that pulsed faintly with what looked like enchantment but was really just a hidden lightbulb inside.
The Grangers sat in casual clothes on the carpet and couch: Hermione cross-legged, was practically vibrating with hopeful intent; her father holding a mug of coffee was sporting a santa hat on his head along with his very own ugly christmas sweater adorned across his chest; her mother adjusting her cardigan that looked closely to a mrs claus outfit as she smiled toward the stairs having noticed the awkward stare.
"Oh, there you are, sleepyhead!" Mrs. Granger called, beaming. "We were just about to start without you, or send Hermione up to wake you!"
Cassius blinked, uncertain how to respond.
"You were waiting… for me?"
"Well of course!" she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're family this Christmas."
That word — family — made something inside him twist, painfully soft.
He inclined his head.
"Then I should not keep you waiting."
He crossed the room and took the empty spot near Hermione, who smiled up at him with that shy, earnest warmth that always made her seem older and younger at once.
As the Grangers turned to begin, Cassius flexed his fingers subtly against his knee — and beneath the tree, unseen by mortal eyes, three small gifts shimmered briefly into existence, wrapped neatly in deep green paper tied with silver string.
A small gesture.
A bit of gratitude for what he could not easily voice.
Gifts he'd procured himself but delivered by the house-elves after his heartfelt plea, at first he planned to deliver the gifts later, not expecting them to be slightly impatient and doing presents first thing.
~
The ritual of Christmas morning unfolded like a play he'd never seen before — filled with laughter and soft exclamations and rustling paper, a scene like this hadnt played before his eyes in a great number of years.
Hermione unwrapped her first gift with reckless abandon, her excitement carefully contained as she revealed a set of new quills, an assortment of inks, and a thick book titled Women of Science: Trailblazers and Visionaries.
She flushed red, murmuring thanks, eyes shining.
Her next box revealed another set of books — "Your mother and I considered sweaters," Mr. Granger said wryly, "but we decided we couldn't compete with your appetite for knowledge."
Hermione's laughter filled the room, bright and unguarded.
Cassius watched quietly from his seat.
He found the ritual both foreign and fascinating — the giving, the receiving, the genuine joy that seemed to hum between them.
The scene was different altogether from even his previous non-magical life, the scene of affection was real, it went deep.
It wasn't strictly about the gifts themselves, no, it was about how the person both giving and receiving them felt about the other.
Not simply about the act of spending money for a social status, or to look good in front of others.
Mr. Granger received his gifts next — a crisp new shirt, a wool jumper, and a small box of expensive cufflinks.
He chuckled softly, pretending to grumble about receiving nothing but clothes, but the fondness in his eyes was unmistakable even with the grumbles he still valued the gifts greatly.
Mrs. Granger followed — her face lit up as she unwrapped a glossy envelope revealing a weekend spa pass.
"Oh, you clever thing!" she exclaimed, pulling Hermione into a delighted hug. "You even remembered my favorite place!"
Hermione grinned, pleased with herself.
Even as her father off to the side frowned ever so slightly, seeing as it was his money buying the getaway but then softened thinking how this gift truly was only possibly thanks to his daughters help in choosing a gift.
The family's laughter settled into a warm hum as they looked toward Cassius.
Mrs. Granger leaned forward with a small parcel in her hands — modest, wrapped in simple red paper.
"And this one," she said with a touch of ceremony, "is for you, Cassius. From all of us."
He froze.
"For… me?"
"Of course," Hermione said, smiling. "You didn't think we'd forget, did you?"
Cassius took the box carefully, almost reverently.
His name — written in neat looping script — stood out starkly on the tag.
He unwrapped it slowly, each tear of paper strangely loud to his ears.
Inside was a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
It was nothing extravagant.
Nothing enchanted.
Just a small, simple gift.
But to Cassius, it might as well have been treasure.
He recognized it instantly — a familiar brand from the wizarding world, the kind of sweet Hogwarts students idly bought from the 3rd year and up students who were allowed to venture from the school grounds and into the wizarding village.
It was an oddly thoughtful gift, albeit an odd one to receive from Dentists who should frown upon such sweets, however his memory flickered back to months ago when he'd told hermione about how magical sweets are not made with sugar, no doubt she'd written home about this fact.
"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice rougher than he expected. "Truly."
Mrs. Granger smiled softly.
"Hermione insisted on it. Said there was no way you could be left out of getting a gift, even if its only a simple one since we don't know you well enough yet."
Cassius looked toward Hermione, who blushed and tried to hide her grin behind a ribbon.
He inclined his head, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Your thoughtfulness is… most appreciated."
~
It was Hermione who noticed the extra gifts beneath the tree.
Having presorted all the gifts into their own piles before starting to hand them out.
"Wait—these weren't here before," she said, blinking. "Mum, Dad, did you—?"
Mrs. Granger looked puzzled.
"No, dear, I thought those were yours."
Cassius said nothing, merely sipping the tea Mrs. Granger had pressed into his hand.
His expression betrayed nothing, though Hermione shot him a knowing look.
"Cassius," she said accusingly, "did you—"
He raised an eyebrow, perfectly calm.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Uh-huh."
Still, she reached for one of the boxes — her name written elegantly across the top in silver ink.
As she peeled back the wrapping, her breath caught.
Inside was a thick tome bound in deep blue leather, embossed with a silver sigil she didn't recognize.
She opened it — and nearly gasped.
The Arcanum Compendium: Research and Theoretical Applications.
A rare collection, covering magical history, politics, spellcraft, and enchantment theory — works she had only ever heard of in passing from the hogwarts professors and senior students.
This was a compendium of knowledge collected and catelogued by the Arcanum research institute.
"Cassius," she whispered, eyes wide. "This is—this is priceless."
He shrugged faintly.
"Knowledge should be shared, not hoarded."
Her hands trembled as she cracked open the cover, and flipped through the pages, then looked up at him, beaming.
"Thank you."
Mrs. Granger, curious, opened her own gift — a polished wooden box inlaid with silver runes.
Inside lay an elegant sewing kit, the spools of thread gleaming faintly.
"It's enchanted," Cassius explained. "It will mend or alter garments upon request. It only needs to hear the command."
Mrs. Granger's eyes filled with wonder.
"That's incredible! You mean I could fix George's old work shirts without sewing a single stitch?"
"Precisely."
Her delighted laughter filled the room.
"You're far too kind, Cassius."
Mr. Granger, slightly wary but intrigued, unwrapped his own present — a silver picture frame.
Within it, a photograph of Hermione, smiling brilliantly, holding an open book as snow drifted around her.
The picture moved — subtly, naturally.
Hermione turned a page, her eyes lighting up, her grin radiant.
When Mr. Granger glanced up in astonishment, Cassius explained quietly, "It's charmed to remain still around Muggles not registered within the frame. The effect is harmless, but… I thought you might prefer her picture to remain normal when you have guests, rather than explain a moving picture."
Mr. Granger stared for a long moment, then nodded slowly, emotion tightening his voice.
"That's… thoughtful. Thank you, son."
Cassius blinked.
The word son hit harder than he expected.
He bowed his head slightly.
"You honor me, sir."
Cassius was shocked Mr. Granger was the most apprehensive about magic of the three, seeing the danger of its existance to muggles.
~
By noon, the room was a mess of wrapping paper, ribbons, and laughter.
Mrs. Granger insisted on taking a photo of all four of them by the tree — Cassius awkwardly trying to smile while Hermione tugged him closer so he didn't look like a statue.
Later, as snow drifted softly against the windowpanes and the scent of roasting turkey filled the air, Cassius sat by the fire, turning the small box of Every Flavor Beans in his hand.
He could hear Hermione in the kitchen, laughing with her parents.
The sound was warm, domestic — something fragile and real that he didn't quite know how to hold.
He thought of Hogwarts, of the cold stone corridors and the distant hum of magic.
Even before that was Nurmengard, another stone castle that radiated a chill in the air, even during summertime.
And for the first time in a long while, he didn't miss it.
He slipped one of the beans into his mouth.
To his surprise, it tasted like cinnamon and honey — perfectly, impossibly sweet.