The castle had fallen into that soft, echoing quiet it only knew during winter holidays — a kind of hush that made every step feel louder, every breath feel like it stirred centuries of sleeping magic. Snow pressed against the windows in thick, dreamy layers, blurring the world outside into nothing but white.

Most students had left days ago, scattering back to warm homes and bustling families. Padma had gone too, swept off to India with their parents, excited to see grandparents and cousins and the kaleidoscope of color that always filled those visits. Parvati had watched her go with a gentle smile and a soft squeeze of her hand… and had stayed behind.

She said she wanted the quiet. She said she wanted the time. No one questioned it, because it was Parvati — bright, sociable Parvati — and if she chose solitude, there had to be a reason she didn’t feel like explaining.

You stayed as well, though for different reasons. But the stillness of the castle settled comfortably on your shoulders, and you didn’t miss the noise.

One afternoon, wandering through hallways that smelled faintly of pine from the enormous holiday decorations, you drifted toward the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady was half-asleep in her frame, lulled by the emptiness, and barely bothered to open her eyes as she let you through.

Inside, the room was warm in that deep, glowing way only fireplaces knew how to create. Every chair and cushion sat untouched, every garland hung perfectly still, no chatter, no rustling pages, no footsteps thundering from the dormitories above.

Except her.

Parvati sat curled in a cushioned armchair closest to the fire, legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped over her shoulders like a bit of soft armor against the cold. The flames flickered gold across her skin, turning her hair into a dark river that gleamed with coppery light. Wisps of steam rose from the mug she held cupped in both hands — hot chocolate, thick and velvety, topped with a slowly melting mountain of marshmallows.

Her gaze was lost in the dance of the flames, unfocused, thoughtful in a way she rarely allowed others to see. The quiet suited her more than anyone realized. It softened the edges of her usual brightness, revealing gentleness instead of sparkle, depth instead of glitter.

Outside, snow had begun to fall harder, flakes drifting past the window like tiny lanterns. The whole world felt slowed down, like time itself had decided to take a warm, lazy holiday nap.

Your footsteps must have finally reached her, because Parvati’s shoulders lifted just slightly, a sign she’d sensed another presence before she bothered to look. She didn’t startle — she hardly ever did — just breathed in once, slow and warm, letting the comfort of the room settle around her like a protective charm.

The fire popped. The castle sighed. The two of you were the only specks of life in an ancient, sleeping giant of stone.