A Not So Secret Santa
@the-al-chemist
Merry Christmas to one of my favourite people not only on the Internet, but in this whole wide world.
Thank you for letting me borrow Artemis for this little short.
And thank you for inspiring me, making me laugh and cry for all the best reasons, for keeping my head above the water and most of all, being the friend I didn't know I've missed in my life for the longest time 💛💛💛
Making friends had alway come easy to Lizzie Jameson. She liked to think that this was due to her open and friendly personality, or - if her friends were to be believed - that she was mostly fun to be around.
In Artemis Hexley, however, Lizzie seemed to have finally found her match.
Artemis had joined the Hufflepuff Quidditch team as their new Seeker in the beginning of the year, and while she didn’t seem to have a problem with any of her new teammates, she didn’t exactly fall over herself to make friends with them either.
For Lizzie, being friends with the rest of her team was self-evident. There was the odd argument with Skye, of course, but that was just what being friends with Skye was.
And yet, out of all the other players, it was rough and snotty Skye who was closest to Artemis. Lizzie, on the other hand, was struggling to connect with her even in the slightest, and that was something she refused to let stand at all.
She had quite a few cards up her sleeve when it came to making friends, and she used them all on Artemis. She made an effort to chat with her before and after their practice sessions; she repeatedly invited her to sit with her and the rest of the Quidditch gang during the meals; and once she started running out of ideas, Lizzie even offered Artemis to help her with her Arithmancy studies.
But so far, all of Lizzie’s efforts had been to no avail. They had come to a point where she should probably drop it and leave Artemis alone, but by now, it had somewhat become a question of honour.
After their last practice session before the Christmas break, it was tradition for the Hufflepuff team to come together for a small Christmas celebration among themselves. When it came to their annual game of Secret Santa, Lizzie was excited when it was her turn to draw her giftee. Reading Artemis’ name on her slip of parchment, however, she was unsure whether to laugh, cry or curse the universe for its twisted sense of humour.
As the days went by and Christmas was drawing nearer, Lizzie still didn’t have the slightest idea what to give to Artemis. She could usually think of a fitting gift for any of her team members in the blink of an eye, but with Artemis, it was different. Even though Lizzie had tried so hard to become her friend, she had to admit that she didn’t really know anything about Artemis in the first place.
When she spoke to Orion about her worries, he didn’t seem to understand her agitation.
“Knowledge is a gift for the patient,” he said with an indulgent smile. “You strive for clarity with force, and therefore, you won’t reach it. Your mind is too restless to see what is in plain sight. So sit, observe, and listen. And once you have settled, wisdom will come to you.”
Lizzie was only half sure she knew what Orion wanted to tell her, but since she had reached a point of desperation, she decided to follow his advice as best as she could anyway. So instead of trying to force a conversation out of Artemis, Lizzie took a step back and left her alone.
As it turned out, Orion had been right; after a few days of simply letting her be, Lizzie had learned more about Artemis than in all the weeks before. The perfect idea struck her out of nowhere, just as Orion had promised her it would.
Lizzie was watching Artemis during dinner - something she did subconsciously at this point - completely lost in her own thoughts. All of a sudden, Artemis’ voice pulled Lizzie back into the moment.
“Did you want that?”
She nodded at the platter of Bakewell Tart sitting between Artemis and Lizzie; a single slice was still left, which Artemis had been in the process of transferring onto her own plate.
Lizzie blinked slowly; she actually hadn’t been thinking about Artemis at all, but to Artemis, it must have looked like Lizzie had been staring at her.
“No, go ahead.”
A quick look of content passed over Artemis’ face. She settled back into her seat and devoured her pudding more quickly and more thoroughly than Lizzie had ever seen anybody do, and slowly but surely, an idea started to form inside her mind.
On the night before they would leave for their Christmas break, Lizzie waited until most students had gone to bed before she grabbed the book she had checked out of the library and snuck out of the common room.
Once inside the corridor leading through the dungeons, she took a turn to the left until she reached the vast painting of a fruit bowl. Tickling the pear peeking out on the side of it, Lizzie watched as it transformed into a door handle and entered the Hogwarts kitchens.
The flames in the many fireplaces lining the high ceilinged walls were burning low, making the numerous copper pots in the open shelves gleam and glimmer. Most of the house elves had already left to tackle the rest of their duties; those who had stayed behind were busy with wiping tables or cleaning plates and kitchen supplies.
Lizzie walked straight to the big one fireplace at the end of the room, the only one in which the fire still was burning high. When she saw who was sitting at the table directly in front of it, she paused.
“Artemis?”
Artemis, whose nose had been buried inside a book, jumped at being addressed unexpectedly. When she saw Lizzie she quickly slammed her book shut and hid the title with the sleeve of her woolly jumper.
“What are you doing here?” she asked somewhat suspiciously.
Lizzie couldn’t really tell her the truth, so she shrugged and held up her book.
“It’s been a while since I was able to get a slice of Bakewell Tart at dinner,” she said with a small smile. “So I figured I might as well bake one myself.”
Artemis furrowed her brow.
“So you did want the last slice the other day,” she muttered to herself, but Lizzie heard her anyway.
“It’s really alright,” she hurried to say. “You like them much more than I do. But getting my hands on fresh cherries is tricky this time of the year, and a Bakewell Tart is the next best thing.”
Artemis looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
“The next best thing?” she said incredulously. “Cherries are just fruit. Bakewell Tarts are a dish. The perfect dish.”
“Fair,” Lizzie chuckled, “I get the cherries, you can have the rest.” She looked at Artemis quizzically. “So that’s why I’m here. What about you?”
“We had the same idea,” Artemis said, and her nose was twitching slightly. She pointed at the book lying in front of her and Lizzie saw that it was the exact same one she was still holding herself.
“That makes things easier,” she grinned and let herself fall into the seat next to Artemis. “We can bake together.”
Artemis looked at her sceptically. “Have you ever made a Bakewell Tart?”
“No. How about you?”
“Me neither.”
As it turned out, Lizzie and Artemis made a great team when it came to baking. What Artemis lacked in accuracy with the measurements she made up for with enthusiasm in working and especially tasting the dough.
When their cake was in the oven, the two girls sat down in front of the big hearth with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. At first, they were only chatting about Quidditch, but they quickly found other topics to share. They talked about their shared love for Transfiguration, living by the seaside and their two cats, who had lately become unlikely friends.
“Fergus is such a darling,” Lizzie sighed. “Mouse gets so jealous when I pet him.”
“I’m surprised he likes you,” Artemis said. “Fergus doesn’t like many people.”
“Most cats like me. In fact, most people like me, too. You don’t seem to be one of them, though.”
“Why do you think that?” Artemis asked, and the puzzled look on her face was genuine.
“You just don’t seem to want to be my friend. Which is fine, of course,” Lizzie added hurriedly. “You don’t have to be friends with me only because we’re on the same team. I just wonder why. You’re friends with Skye, and it’s not like she’s nicer than me.”
“Skye doesn’t talk as much,” Artemis muttered, but the corners of her mouth were twitching. “And I don’t understand her most of the time.”
“Skye’s accent can be rotten sometimes,” Lizzie laughed. It had taken her the better part of their first year to learn to understand Skye’s Scottish pronunciation, but by now, she barely even noticed it anymore.
“It’s a pity though,” Lizzie went on with a sigh. “I, for one, really like you. I would have loved to be your friend.”
Artemis tilted her head. “Aren’t we?”
Now it was Lizzie’s turn to frown. “Are we?”
“I don’t bake Bakewell Tarts in the middle of the night with anyone.”
“Fair enough,” Lizzie chuckled.
When their tart was baked and decorated it sat on the table between them looking and smelling deliciously. Lizzie was unsure of what to do now; she and Artemis had baked it together, it wasn’t like she could just grab it and take it away.
Artemis, however, didn’t share her hesitancy. From out of nowhere she produced two forks and held one out to Lizzie with an expectant look.
Lizzie couldn’t think of any reason to refuse Artemis, so she took the fork and picked one of the cherries off the iced surface. Artemis, on the other hand, had already stuffed her cheeks to the brim.
They continued eating their Bakewell Tart straight from the pan until it was empty and Lizzie felt close to bursting. There was so much sugar coursing through their veins that neither of them could stop giggling all the way back to their common room.
The Hogwarts Express left for London the next day at ten past ten. Even though Lizzie was excited to go home and see her family, all she could think about was what to give Artemis in place of the Bakewell Tart they had made short work of the night before.
The next few days didn’t provide her with a proper solution, so on the morning of Christmas Eve, Lizzie braced the masses of people hitting the shops on a hunt for a last-minute gift. She wasn’t entirely satisfied with the colourful woolly jumper featuring snowflakes and a dancing llama on the front, but she had done worse before. She added a Santa hat she’d shrunk so it would fit Fergus and just hoped Artemis would like her gift.
Christmas Day came with no snow but an icy wind blowing from the sea. It was one of those days with a bright winter sun and a blue, cloudless sky that made Lizzie itch to get outside. She and her family took a long walk along the beach of Lyme Regis, soaking in the sunlight and watching the people crazy enough to go for a charity swim.
When they came back home, Lizzie was cold to the bone and her cheeks were flushed red. Upon entering her room, the first thing she saw was Mouse sitting on the windowsill and frantically scratching at the glass. The reason was a big, flecked owl with long, tufty ears which was sitting outside Lizzie’s window.
She hurriedly put Mouse into Orion’s arms and let the owl inside. It just dropped the package it had been carrying into Lizzie’s hands, hooted indignantly for being kept waiting and flew off without sparing her another glance. The owl which had brought Lizzie’s Secret Santa present last year had been in a similar mood as this one and Lizzie sighed.
“So much for flashbacks,” she muttered to herself as she slid her finger beneath the wrapping paper. Inside the package she found a small box of chocolate Snitches and a colourful card. When she read it, a knowing grin spread on her face.
I have no idea if you like these at all, but I hope you do. We kind of ate your real gift. Sorry.
Her grin turned into a full blown laugh and Lizzie had to shake her head. Maybe Artemis and she were more alike than she had thought.
Orion set Mouse down onto Lizzie’s bed and looked over her shoulder with a curious glance.
“Your gift is very thoughtful, but the source of your amusement escapes me,” he said and looked between Lizzie and the card she was still holding.
“If we only take a close enough look, sometimes the chasms dividing us aren’t as deep as we think,” Lizzie said, mimicking Orion’s way of speaking and earning herself a nudge to the side.
“No really,” she chuckled, “my gift is brilliant. It might not be as elaborate as last year, but I might like it almost as much.”
“The chocolate Snitches?” Orion asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No,” Lizzie said and leaned against him with a smile. “A brand new friend.”
