for @Roman Kingston
Christmas used to be an important day in the Marquez household. Beside the fact that the family were devoted Christians, Christmas Day (and the whole holiday season, to be honest) was filled of happiness so infectious anyone near couldn't resist a smile. The tree was always up, decorated with flimsy, colorful baubles, homemade ornaments, and a string of flashing lights, and Christmas songs played from the radio. Gabby's father's death had diminished the happiness of Christmas, but only to a small extent. Christmas was still a beloved holiday, and Gabby couldn't wait to go home. Her mother's presence would be depressing, as it always seemed to be, but Gabby tried not to blame her, and the sadness of her mum would be made up by the happiness of her elder brothers.

Gabby made her way along the Hogwarts Express, a small bag swung around one shoulder. She had left most of her stuff at school, as she would be back after the holidays were over, and only brought homework, clothes, and other essentials. As always, Gabby was a couple of minutes too late, as she always was, but had made up the time by sprinting to the station. Now aboard, Gabby wished she had run faster, as the compartments were filling up quickly. But, luckily, she found one. It was empty, and while Gabby didn't love the idea of being lonely, it was better than sitting next to people she didn't now.
She slid open the door and walked inside. In an attempt to place her bag up in the rack, Gabby stood on her tiptoes, but found that she was still too short. She huffed, annoyed, and tucked the bag between her legs as well. The trip back home certainly hasn't started very well.

Interacting with @Gabriela Marquez

It’s not a surprise that he finds himself with a scowl on his face. Was there something other than that to expect? Not really. Thing is, just like most celebrations and holidays (apart from his birthday, of course), Roman doesn’t really care about Christmas. He doesn’t consider himself religious, and as nice as it is to receive gifts and get to eat the best grand meal ever — his house-elves really do work extra hard during the wintertime —, the hours he spends in a quiet living room accompanied by his father’s melancholic, almost regretful, expression are some he’ll never get back.

Celebrations like this, centered around family-bounding, love, and all that disgusting stuff are brushed off by Roman easily, after all, you can’t miss what you never had, right? The Kingstons’ form of celebrating is exchanging gifts, perhaps giving each other an awkward hug and having dinner, then going on their separate ways. He’s heard so many students gushing about how excited they are, and, hating this, the boy couldn’t help but feel a tad bit jealous. He never got the chance to experience such a holiday with people who genuinely cared about him or that he could say he loved. Not that he’s bitter or anything, he knows he’ll have a pleasant time. Roman misses his home, and all of its cold, intimidating glory.

Now here he is, moving alongside the other students inside the Hogwarts Express, hoping that his father remembered to pick him up at the platform. Wearing his common dark and warm outfits, his face almost entirely hidden behind the grey and silver Slytherin scarf. Roman brings all of his belongings with him, not wanting his noisy roommates to fuss around his stuff while he’s gone.

Damn! Some bloke steps on his feet, making him bite a yelp. He looks around, teary-eyed, and opens the door to the first compartment he finds, forcing himself inside, letting out a both annoyed and relieved huff. Inside he's met with the short figure of Gabriela, which makes him raise his eyebrows, impressed. For the first time ever, Roman doesn't know what to say.

The door opens quickly, so Gabby turns around so fast she cracks her neck. Prehaps it's a friend! Maybe she won't be alone after all...?
Her hopes fade quickly as she sees who it is. Tall and Asian, with skin so pale it reminds Gabby of the snow that has just began to fall. She knows who has stumbled into her compartment straight away. Roman Kingston. While he was a fellow Slytherin and First Year, Gabby and him were different in every other aspect. He was a pureblood, she a Muggleborn. When they argued, it was tall vs short, control vs anger, intelligence vs passion. Gabby would rather share a compartment with anyone else in the whole school, the whole world even. How had she been so unlucky? He mustn't of come in on purpose, that would just be strange, so it must of been an accident somehow. The chances of that happening though... Gabby thinks. She notes that his eyes are slightly teary, and he doesn't say anything. Which is unusual for someone so sharp tongued, she ponders.

"Oh, it's you," she says to Roman. "Didn't expect to share a compartment with you for the ride home. Can't say I'm looking forward to it either."
She turns to stare out the window when a thought crosses her mind, causing Gabby to turn back around.
"You know what else I didn't expect? You coming home for Christmas. I cannot imagine you as the type of person who would go home and spend time with your family at Christmas. You are just fill of surprises, aren't you?"

Roman isn’t glad to see Gabriela’s face, but he isn’t annoyed at all, which is a clear sign that something is off. Something tightens in his chest after he takes a good look at her round, now sort of familiar, face. A warm, but not pleasant feeling scattering across his heart — the boy hates it. He sighs to himself, frowning for being confused as to why he’s feeling that way.

It has to do with the time of the year, he concludes, not liking where that train of thought is going. It doesn’t make things any clearer. Home, he’ll be going home. The quiet, often cold place that was safe and familiar. Shouldn’t he be a little more… Happy or something along those lines? No good answer comes to mind, and the question lingers in his head, an awful taste in his mouth, his stomach empty and hurting.

He doesn't care, Roman decides, pushing all the feelings aside, giving the girl another look, noticing how she clearly seemed displeased in seeing his face so soon. He simply shoves if off; they were bound to meet again someday, both being Slytherins and first years. Roman puts his trunk up in the rack without having to move his arms up, ignoring whatever she tells him.

Making himself comfortable in the seat in front of Gabriela, closer to the window, Roman runs his hands over his clothing, for some reason. He's not himself today, which is so— unknown. He sighs, one more time, never getting tired of questioning himself. What's his deal?! Is it because he'll spend more time with his house-elves than his own father? The though leaves him more bitter and frustrated. How he wishes he and his family had a... better relationship.

Not normal, please. He doesn't want his father to play Quidditch with him, and call him slugger, or mess his hair as they laugh and have fun, no! Nor does he want his mother to come back home to see his face more than once a year and kiss his cheek, so they play music together, no, thank you. Roman doesn't want that, not at all. All he wants is to feel as though his decision of coming back home or not mattered something.

Bet the place will look the exact same, the boy thinks to himself, looking down at his expensive shoes, listing all the things he'll never do. They won't decorate a tree because there won't be one, nor will the fireplace be lit, or Christmas sweaters. It all feels like a dream, to be honest, and also a punch to his groin. A dream that he can't hold, nor fully picture. A surreal image, if anything. His personal little Eden.

“Suppose I am, brat…” Roman finds himself saying, much to his surprise. For the first time ever his voice sounds soft. The nickname that comes out without him noticing makes him come back to reality. Realizing Gabriela is there, he coughs in his hand, not wanting to give her another impression of him. So, putting up a hard expression, eyes still very much hurt, though he doesn't know that, he lies, sounding aloof, just the way he likes it. “I already regret goin', though,”

Roman walks into the compartment, and places his trunk in the bag racks above. Gabby is slightly annoyed that he can reach the rack, without even having to raise his arms above his head, but she pushes the feeling away, not wanting to get too angry too soon. When Gabby became angry she was unpredictable, and the situation normally ended badly.
As Roman sits down, he seems to be ignoring her. He faces the window, sighs, and doesn't say a word. Gabby hesitates, not sure what to think. Did she overstep? It wouldn't be the first time she had overstepped, and while Gabby didn't have any good memories of the boy, she hoped she hadn't done any damage. Wondering if she had (done any damage, that is), Gabby peered to have a closer look at the Slytherin. He seemed wistful and, to Gabby's surprise, sad. Sad? Roman Kingston wasn't sad. He was hard and cold, like ice, impossible to crack, with a mind like Sherlock Holmes, a quick mind, but with no space for feelings. His eyes, normally reminding Gabby of the dark dungeons down below the castle where she took potions, were different. They had something, something that wasn't there before. But what was it? Emotion, Gabby thought, shocked, her lips parting in surprise. While still dark, his eyes were a different type of dark, like if water had been dyed black. It was angelic, almost, almost ─

No, Gabby thought. Roman is your enemy. Remember that. And, just in time, Roman spoke.
"Suppose I am, brat, he said. But again, he was different. Softer. Gabby bit her lip, not sure what to think about the whole thing. “I already regret goin', though,”
"Oh," she said dumbly, any thoughts of saying a mean, spiteful comment flying out the window. "Why?"

Part of him had been hoping for another mean comment, a greater reaction, something that he could get a hold of, something familiar, not this feelingsy stuff. It’s awkward and leaves him feeling mushy. Roman doesn’t like that, at all. Emotions aren't really his strongest point. Quite the opposite, actually. He likes to think of himself as apathetic, as terrible as it may sound to others. Emotions and that sort of crap are for the weak, he's always told himself, but, oh well, here he is, being the weakest he's ever been in the eleven years in his life.

Gabriela’s question is simple, but yet, no common answer comes to his mind. He regrets waking up early and thinking that, this time, it'll be different. He regrets being so hopeful and naive when it comes to this. And so, he tries to tell himself what he knows: that he won't be getting any of what he wants. All there will be is a pain in his chest that grows as he can easily picture himself, bored to death, in his living room, opening presents with his father, neither of them wanting to talk to one another.

Virgil Kingston isn’t a man of many words, the boy tells to spare himself from more pain. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be. Whatever it is, they only talk when absolutely necessary it seems, only to show that, yes, they might be complicated, but they aren’t that bad in this father-son relationship. They aren’t… Right? The boy doesn’t even know and, Merlin, not knowing is terrible.

“Dunno, really. I guess I'm sick,” Roman hears himself say, shaking his head and shoulders, letting out a condescending laugh. The lie comes naturally to him again, as he tries to escape from that incredibly unnecessary conversation. He runs his fingers through his hair, and gives Gabriela a hard look, pretending that she's to blame for all this mess in his heart. “Look at me sayin' this shit to ya. Who would’ve thought, right Gabriela?”

He pronounces her name properly and doesn't bother to call her a stupid nickname this time around. Hell, Roman's too moody to be mean, which is a rare occurrence. Roman looks the other way, wondering when the train would start to move. He stares at the Hogwarts castle at the distance and gets teary-eyed once more. Brooding, he thinks, unhappily, a lot of brooding happening right now.

When Roman replies, Gabby knows something's off.
First there is the excuse. He's sick? Gabby finds that hard to believe. A seasoned lair herself, she knows well enough that pulling a sickie is the most basic trick in the book. But there is also the point that Gabby doesn't know Roman very well. This is only the third time she's met him, so Gabby can't exactly tell if he is telling the truth, and actually is sick. The second part sounds more like the Roman Kingston Gabby knows. Turning the blame on someone else. But, Gabby wonders, where's the spite? Where's the arrogance he always seems to have? And then there is the weirdest part of it all. He said my name right. Gabby ponders what this could mean. Her mind is screaming at her to say something mean, something rude. This is the most vulnerable position Roman has been in, since forever. It would be the perfect time to exploit that weakness.
But something stops her. She's not sure what, but something does. Because despite the childish anger inside Gabby that always seems ready to hurt, Gabby steps up. Because he stepped up, she realizes. He stepped up by putting aside our differences, and now I need to do the same. She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable with the new situation.
"You regret going... because your sick?" Gabby asks, the skepticism clear. But giving him the benefit of the doubt, she speaks up again. "I guess train rides aren't the best when your not 100%. And thanks for saying my name right, by the way."

Not my best excuse… Roman thinks to himself, no other excuses coming to his mind, so he can smooth his way out of this conversation. He's now less surprised to see that his brain isn’t working properly today. All these complicated feelings and hurt heart are starting to get to him in the worst way possible... It's affecting his wits! And he couldn’t let that happen.

Biting his lower lip, he realizes that avoiding the topic is only going to make things worse. Perhaps, letting it all out to someone would help, part of him says, while the other calls him a wussy. Then the realization of who he's talking to hits his once again, harder.

It's Gabriela, for Merlin's sake! The Slytherin brat that didn't like him in the slightest, the one that thought of him as an asshole, or something along those lines. The tiny nuisance that he's only met twice before today and that managed to get on his nerves. She couldn't see him like this, no, thank you very much! Yes, Roman doesn't usually care about others think of him, but he doesn't want to be considered weak by someone like her.

He gives her another good look, wondering how this entire conversation will play out. Gabriela hasn't mocked him, nor commented on how he's acting like a passive tool, so there's that. It gives him some sort of hope that she'll still think of him the same way she did before, that showing this ridiculous side of himself won't erase all of his earlier actions.

Well, Roman considers it, wanting to test the waters. There's a chance this whole thing might go downhill, considering how their other two encounters had gone. And, if it did, nothing would change. He likes the sound of that. After all, change can be complicated, to say the least.

And so Roman says, trying to sound condescending. “Sick in the head, Gabriela…” However, his voice is soft, almost like a weak whisper. Pathetic! He thinks, not liking the bitter taste in his mouth once he admits that. He frowns again. “And yar welcome...? There's no need to thank me...”

How much he hates this, Roman can't even put to words. Part of him wants to get up and leave. Go back to the Slytherin common room and hide there for the rest of the winter break, but the other part, the one he shoves deep down in his chest stops him from moving. And so the boy settles for crossing his arms and watching the snow fall.

Roman replies to what she said, but still, something is different. His voice... Gabby can't seem to just get over it. Ever since the first time she met him, even before she knew his name (the first time the two met, the conversation had consisted of mostly yelling and taunting, so there wasn't a lot of time left for introductions), Gabby had always had an image in her head of Roman. Eyebrows slightly raised, lips slightly turning upwards, and evil eyes that seemed to laugh at everything she did. But this image of Roman was gone, replaced with this version of him. Why haven't I seen this Roman before? she asked herself. Why is he only showing this side of himself now?

"It's Gabby," Gabby blurted out, no longer allowed to contain herself. She didn't mean to, and at once wished she had never said it, but by then it was too late. "I mean - nobody calls me Gabriela, really. It's my name, but everyone calls me Gabby instead. Unless they're adults. Or if I'm doing something naughty."
She paused, searching for words to say. Was it a mistake, to tell him that? At that point, Gabby wasn't really sure what was happening. They weren't friends now, she was sure of that. It was too soon.. to sudden. But this quietness, it was a weakness. Roman shouldn't be showing this to her. But he was, and now Gabby wasn't sure if she could be his enemy any more. But still not friends, she told herself strictly.
"It got weird. You calling me Gabriela. I wasn't used to it, that's why I told you," Gabby lied. She might not know what was happening, but she still didn't want Roman thinking she was all nice now. Not yet, anyway.

To be frank, Roman doesn’t know how to react to those words, he’s taken back, staring at her as he quietly waits for her to tell him she’s joking. Or something. Anything. A nickname feels oddly intimate and, not only have they met thrice, but all of those interactions ended up badly in one way or another. They aren’t friends, not even close to acquaintances. Before today, they were one step away from crossing the line to rivals, nemesis, or any other word that means clear aversion and actively opposed to.

“Right… Gabby, then,” that’s all he says, nodding, more to himself than to her, really, wanting to see where this whole thing would go. Roman doesn’t need friends — never had them, never will, probably — and he can’t see the two of them becoming much closer than acquaintances. They’re far too different for that.

He’s far too focused on the whole “befriending Gabriela” — Gabby, he corrects himself in his head, to remember his sadness in relation to Christmas and his family. Roman looks down, considering if he should say something else, if he should ask her to call him something, too. The boy’s never had nicknames before. Come to think of it, he doesn’t think there’s a proper nickname for Roman other than Ro, which sounds small and slightly pathetic — he hates it.

But…

“Hye,” it slips before he can think about it a little bit further. Roman fidgets, something he never does and looks away. He coughs, covering his mouth, eyes glued to the window. “Ya can call me Hye if ya want.” Roman shrugs like he doesn’t care. “It’s my second name. I like both just fine.”