The Slytherin common room was warm and inviting, the crackling fire casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. Draco sat in his usual chair by the hearth, a sleek, dark green sweater pulled tightly around his frame as he idly flicked through a book, though his mind was clearly elsewhere. Pansy lounged on the sofa, a delicate glass of mulled wine in her hand, eyeing Millicent Bulstrode, who was sprawled out across a velvet cushion, her feet tucked beneath her. Crabbe and Goyle sat nearby, stuffing their faces with Christmas treats, while Blaise leaned against the window, gazing at the shifting shadows of fish and the occasional mermaid outside. The quiet hum of the room was interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the soft clink of glass.

"Do you think we’ll get any decent presents this year?" Pansy asked, her tone more amused than serious. Draco looked up, raising an eyebrow. "My parents are giving me the usual — something extravagant, of course," he replied coolly. Blaise smirked, adjusting the silver snake pendant around his neck. "I expect something rare and valuable," he added. From across the room, Theo and Astoria sat together, talking quietly. Daphne was near the tree, carefully adjusting one of the silver ornaments. Despite the holiday cheer, there was an unspoken understanding in the air: for Slytherins, Christmas was not just about family or tradition, but about the quiet confidence of knowing that they, above all, had everything they needed.