whilst most holidays were quiet upsetting for gwendolyn, she always found new life during the christmas period - often seeing the end of another year as a new start from the year's troubles and tribulations - even now as she continues with her work. placing down her clipboard on the reception desk, the veteran mediwitch reaches over to the pot of candycanes to sneak one out for a momentary sugar-spike - she was entering her ninth hour of her shift and was simply counting down each minute now. "nothing beats the refreshing sweetness of a candy cane, hm?" a satisfied hum passes by her lips before smiling at the nurse at the desk, spinning only to be met with a potential patient, a candy cane hanging half out of her mouth. "oh, hello there."

it took him a few minutes to work himself up for it, but, finally... “grace. hi,” he smiles, all white teeth and dimples, his ungloved and chilly hands glued to the insides of his pockets. wix milled all around them, waiting in the queue for cocoa or standing around for the christmas tree lights, but ( as per usual, at least since the gala ), his attention was focused on her, from bobble hat to cheeks rosy from the cold. “are you a willing participant, or... did you get dragged out here as well ?” 

adora gave it an honest shot. she really had. years past, she’d love spending her weekends in december at hogsmeade, begging luca for some coins to get whatever cheap christmas gifts she could back when she was at hogwarts. but she’d gone this year, ignoring the ache in her once broken bones that the cold now caused. she’d barely taken a few steps into the market proper before she was jostled by someone in the crowd, posture going rigid at the contact. “oh this was a bad idea.” she muttered it to herself and took a few steps back, putting some distance between herself and the crowd. adora hadn’t told luca or julius that was she going, hadn’t wanted to worry them. now, as she cast her gaze around, that instinct to look for one of them still unshakeable, she wished she’d had. “is there... do you know if there’s anywhere i can sit for a few minutes?”

dionisia belby was not made for customer service. she much preferred the sticky heat of her greenhouses, hidden away from customers and dealing only with the finnicky nature of some of her most expensive plants. instead, she was bundled up (a long, dark green outercoat with floral motifs, her hat, scarf, and gloves matching. dionisia was nothing if not dedicated to the aesthetic.) but the chill still bone deep, listening to the endless chatter of customers. “it’s too late for a custom wreath, unfortunately.” the slots for the custom wreath orders had sold out before november, let alone a few weeks before christmas. the smile on her face was forced, stiff a little. “you can always grab one of the premade ones.”

“ mon dieu... ” fleur mumbled to herself, burying her phone in the back pocket of her jeans quite harshly. it was near useless to her since it she was convinced it was taking her to anywhere but where she needed to be. it could almost be seen a humorous to anyone that knew just how many years fleur had been residing in england — only to be found like a mind boggled foreigner struck with culture shock. clearing her throat a little too loud, also an attempt to grab the attention of the person closest to her. “ pardon ? i’m so sorry to disturb you, but would you know know the quickest way to get to hogsmeade from here ? ”

daisy held a foam to go cup in her hands, leeching away as much heat from the thin to-go cup. “i don’t think hot chocolate is supposed to taste like this.” technically speaking, it was a peppermint hot chocolate with a shot of espresso. not that it tasted like that. it was watery and had just a hint of chocolate with an overwhelming peppermint flavor. it was enough to make her mouth burn just a bit. “i really wouldn’t recommend it. twelve dollars isn’t worth it.”

her friend had made her promise to be nice. she’d opened her mouth to argue and been silenced by the look on their face ; they weren’t taking the snowman building competition nearly as seriously as she was, and were worried she was going to embarrass them. begrudgingly, marietta had actually held out her hand to loop gloved pinky fingers, solemnly swearing ( on pain of death - well, not really, but the incompletion of their snowy entry, which was just as bad ) not to cause a scene before stomping off towards the offending sculpture, snow boots crunching pleasantly all the way. she’d been waiting an hour for this entrant to return, and now that she had her chance, fists clenched inside her jacket pockets, her friends chastising voice ringing in her ears, marietta knew that there was only one thing for it - “that’s OUR scarf,” she explodes, immediately, her expression sour as she waits for the other to emerge from behind their creation, ”you took it off our snowman when we went for lunch. i want it back.”