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(Mark) Christmas is probably canceled
Author: Isolde
Date: 02-21-14 18:12
The weight of the question regarding the memory of his mother being dead grew heavier and heavier with every passing day at home. He thought of it even while working on his internship at the Ministry of Magic––this time in the Floo Network Office under a wizard named Kastor Jorgenson––but at least at work, he had some distractions.
Now it was Christmas Eve, and he was at home with his parents because there was no work to go to or anywhere else he could be. He managed to occupy himself with mailing a last minute gift to his Secret Santa, a Hufflepuff girl named Marion DeMarco who was also the goddaughter of Professor Sacheverelle.
It being a last minute gift, partially because Mark had forgotten all about it and also because he wasn't in the Christmas spirit at all, the gift to Marion wasn't terribly exciting. He sent her a package of chocolate-covered pretzel sticks he ordered from a confectionary shop near his home.
Even sending the package to Marion had only taken so much time, leaving him with ample opportunity to ponder on his mother and the conflicted memories he had about her existence. While she fussed in the kitchen with what would turn into Christmas Eve dinner at some point, he went to the family room and took down an old photo album from the bookshelf.
It started off with photographs of himself and his parents: splashing in the bathtub, taking his first steps, spitting up food at dinnertime. There were photos of him as a young child playing with a toy broomstick or streaking down the hallway in no clothes at all. His mother was well-represented throughout the album. Mark closed it, put it back on the shelf, and got the next album.
It contained pictures that were noticeably newer: Mark in his school robes with his prefect badge pinned to his chest; Cavall, Mark's cat, jumping from Mark's lap to his mother's while they sat on the sofa in the living room, exactly where Mark was sitting now; Mark with some of the other Farnons, including his parents, in an attempt to get a family portrait with all generations and branches represented.
Mark got to the end of the book and closed it. He sat still for a moment with the album on his lap and wondered why there were photos of him as a baby and young boy and then nothing until he was teenaged. It seemed rather odd to have such a gap in his photographic history, especially during a time when he would have been at home and not away at school.
Mark finally got to his feet and put the album back onto the shelf. He wandered into the kitchen, where his mother was still fussing over the dinner menu. His father was also there, stealing tastes of the available incredients. Mrs. Farnon slapped her husband's hand away, but the minute she had her back turned, he was at it again.
Mark watched them act playfully towards each other and almost didn't want to ruin the moment. When his mother turned around again and threatened her husband with the wooden spoon in her hand, Mark said, "I need to ask you something."
"What is it, dear?" Eviene asked.
"Did you do something to my memories?"
The smiles slipped from both of his parents' faces, but his mother's face also showed something else, surprise and perhaps even guilt.
"Why ever would you ask that?" she calmly queried.
"Are you all right, Mark?" his father Meirchion asked, looking concerned.
"I'm asking because you were dead, Mum. I remember it."
"What are you saying?" Meirchion asked.
"Sweetheart," Eviene said. She put the spoon down and wiped her hands on the apron she wore. "Where did you get such a notion?" Her features darkened then and she asked, "Was it from that Dewhurst girl?"
Mark deigned not to answer his mother's question. While it was true that Kate had intially brought up the confusing memory, Mark quickly came to share it. He remembered the belief that he didn't have a mother, but at the same time, he had a memory that seemed to overlay that one, because he also remembered his mother being around his entire life.
"Why do I distinctly remember thinking you were dead?" Mark countered.
"Mark! Stop this nonsense right now!" Meirchion barked, but Mark ignored him.
"Why are there no photographs of any of us from when I was a kid? Don't tell me you didn't take any pictures for a whole decade."
"Mark, I warned you!" Meirchion began, but then a lightbulb seemed to turn on in his mind. He worked his mouth open and closed again, and Mark could tell that something had changed in his father.
Eviene could sense it too. "Oh, bugger," she murmured. "I knew I should have gone with a standard memory charm."
"Wait, what?" Mark asked. "I was right?"
"Memory charm?!" Meirchion spluttered.
Eviene sighed and removed her apron, an act that seemed to suggest all plans for Christmas Eve dinner were off now. "You weren't supposed to find out about my foolhardy indiscretion," she said. "I'm not even sure how you managed it."
"Foolhardy indiscretion?!" Meirchion exclaimed.
"Why did you do it, Mum?" Mark asked. "What did you do?"
Eviene sighed again and said, "I suppose there is no denying it now, though I think I could get away with telling you something, anything, other than the actual truth."
"No more lies," Mark ground out through gritted teeth.
"No more lies," Eviene agreed. She glanced at her husband, who looked somewhat disoriented. "Well, here it is. When you were very small, Mark, I met somebody. I decided to take up an affair with him, so I put a powerful charm on the family that would extend to your close friends and anyone else with whom you might form a strong bond. I gave you the heartbreak of losing your mother to her death, rather than the truth that she left her family for a man who wasn't her husband. I lifted the charm and substituted memories of me always having been around when my extramarital affair fizzled after your started at Hogwarts."
Mark couldn't believe his ears. He found his tongue before his father could. "You cheated on Dad?"
"Yes, I did."
"Did you have kids by this wizard?" Mark asked, wondering if like Gus and Kate, he had half siblings he didn't even know existed.
"No," Eviene replied, waving her hand as if the idea were completely preposterous.
Then she dropped an even bigger bombshell. "And I didn't say he was a wizard."
Extended Family Gathering
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 02-22-14 08:19
The various Dewhursts and their extended families gathered at the home of Wotan and Aemilia for Christmas Eve. Bronwyn and Toby were among the last to arrive, but only because Bronwyn had changed her outfit five times. She'd finally settled a cashmere sweater, skirt, tights, and knee-high boots.
She kissed her parents hello and wished them a Happy Christmas, and then made the rounds with her other relatives. The Diamonds were all present, including Wolfie, who at four years old was the darling and life of the party. Desi was there with Orion, but the biggest surprise of all was the presence of Desi's twin sister Bianca and her boyfriend Jay.
Desi and Bianca stood across the room from each other, but they looked entirely civil considering their tumultuous past. Bronwyn knew Bianca had made great strides to become a better person, which even Desi had come to accept. And Wolfie simply adored her.
She made her way over to Bianca to say hi and stopped to chat for a while.
"I never thought I would see you with short hair," Bianca remarked. "It's cute."
"Thanks, but I'm growing it out. If it had been my choice to cut it off, then I might have kept it for a while, but since it wasn't…"
Bianca frowned. "I'm sorry about what happened. Has she been caught yet?"
"No," Bronwyn replied, shaking her head.
"That's too bad. Having been in her position once, I know that she needs help and that she's not going to get it until she gives herself up."
Bronwyn had almost forgotten that Bianca had done something just as crazy several years ago when she'd stolen Desi's then-boyfriend Xavier away and utilized memory charms to make him think he had been with Bianca all along. The parallels were striking, now that Bronwyn thought about it.
"I think she's worse than you ever were," Bronwyn finally said.
"All the more reason for her to get help fast," Bianca said.
The longer they talked, the more Bronwyn felt Desi's laser-like stare. She finally excused herself from Bianca to visit with her best friend.
"What was that all about?" Desi asked.
"Nothing. Being friendly. You should try it."
"I am. I'm being very friendly. In fact, I'm being so friendly that I don't even feel like beating anybody up right now."
"That's almost too bad. Kate and Siegfried both have bastard ex-boyfriends that need a little arse-kicking."
"Bon Bon said ARSE!" Wolfie shouted.
"Great, now you have him cussing in British," Desi remarked, a smiling spreading across her face.
"Hey, Wolfie, aren't you big enough to call me by my real name instead of the nickname you gave me when you were a baby?" Bronwyn asked, kneeling to better look the four-year-old in the face.
"No!" he shouted, and then he tore from the room to no doubt get into some mischief.
Bronwyn got back up and turned to Desi. "Well, he does have a very diverse vocabulary."
"Did I hear something about somebody kicking my bastard ex in the," voice lowered, "arse?" asked Siegfried, an eyebrow quirked in interest.
Bronwyn laughed and let Siegfried and Desi chat. Meanwhile, she wandered over to Kate and Tessa to chat with the two younger girls.
(Broderick) Home for the Holidays
Author: Cai Pembroke Carter
Date: 02-22-14 12:53
"Seriously, I'm thinking of going to live in India for a little while and maybe study there once I'm done with Hogwarts. There is nothing that says I have to actually start going to St. Emry's right away. I don't want to follow Evan's path and do anything business related..."
This was the statement that started the argument shortly after I'd gotten home from Hogwarts for the holiday break, Angharad had opted to stay in the castle for the holidays, but the rest of us had come home.
I'd been thinking about it for a while now, mainly since Dru and I had broken up and I was looking for a change, something out of the ordinary and it was a place where I'd not been when my parents had been doing their philanthropy work around the globe.
It was an argument, mainly because my parents wanted me to continue my education and I was ready for a break from acadamia and the rigors of dealing with school work and institutions. I didn't say I wouldn't continue my education, merely that I wanted to take a break.
"You should start at least one term at St. Emry's before you make your decision Broderick."
My mother said as she set the final dish upon the table for the holiday meal.
"Mom, I don't want to take anything at St. Emry's or any other institution right when I get out of Hogwarts. I want to spend some time just doing anything other than schoolwork and dealing with the rigors of institutions and education."
My dad had long since given up trying to convince me, it was my mother that pushed so hard, and she was very quickly pushing me toward getting up and leaving the house for a little while, and I didn't want to do that on Christmas eve of all nights.
"I'm just saying you should at least give it a try before you simply say you are going to travel, and live in India for Merlin knows how long."
Once more, I sigh and shake my head. "Mom you let Evan make his own choices, and I know you'll probably let Cai and Aderyn make their own. Angharad will do as she pleases as well, however, me? I'm expected to do things as you want them once I'm done with school? How is that fair?"
I hated going there, I really did, but ultimately it was getting to the point that I was ready to be done with this argument for now.
I watched as she visibly tensed, and knew that I had probably overstepped myself, but it was said and done and I honestly did not want to take it back because I knew that it was the truth.
"We will discuss this once your NEWTs are taken and when your scores come in."
The ultimatum within those words were - if your scores are subpar and not up to our "my" standards you will be going to school here instead of traveling like you wanted to do.
I sighed and turned my attention to my dinner, and hoping that Asher had liked what I'd gotten him for the Secret Santa gift exchange. I'd found it in one of the catalogues my mom had laying around the house, and figured he'd like it because it was something that I'd liked when I'd been his age. Besides, Bento boxes were interesting and so much could be done with them.
The Pink Tea Cup
Author: Mildred
Date: 02-22-14 13:41
"What is your friend's name?"
"Queenie McPhaul," Mildred told her grandmother, looking around the ground floor of St. Mungo's in search for Wesley.
In the young witch's arms rested a large box with chocolate frogs. It was a gift to Queenie who had been taken to the hospital, victim of a badly performed jinx that had deformed her ears and nose. Or so that was what her grandmother thought. Queenie wasn't ill or even at St. Mungo's, but Mildred needed an excuse to come to the hospital. The lie was convincing and since it was Christmas Eve, not even someone like her grandmother would have the courage to deny a trip to the hospital.
After a moment she spotted Wesley, who was in the company of a wizard that could only be his father. He was holding a small flower bouquet, another gift for Queenie. Mildred walked in their direction and her grandmother followed her. She greeted Wesley and his father and then she watched with apprehension as Regina started to talk to Mr. Varnum about Queenie's misfortune.
"I raised two daughters and not once I had to send them to the hospital due to some spell damage."
Mr. Varnum replied that some parents were very unwise when it came to using magic in front of their children and Mildred's grandmother smiled with delight. The two of them seemed to get along well as they criticized the irresponsible wizard parents of Great Britain. Mildred and Wesley told them they were going to visit Queenie and the adults agreed to wait for them in the ground floor; none of them seemed very inclined to come along and they continued with their conversation.
Once Mildred was sure they couldn't hear them she said:
"I'm glad the lie worked out. I was afraid as my grandmother spoke with your father that they would find some flaw in the story and catch us."
"It was a convincing lie, thanks to Melpomene. Too bad she couldn't come."
Melpomene had spent an afternoon at the school library researching jinxes and learning which ones could grant a visit to the hospital. She defended that a good lie even if vague should be based on a truth. Just like Wesley, Mildred wished Melpomene would be here with them. But her parents were Muggles and it would be hard to have them take her to St. Mungo's. Probably they wouldn't even be able to locate it. And so she had to stay at home, while Mildred and Wesley did their search inside the hospital. They were hoping to find a place where the hospital's medical files were stored and try to learn what had taken Erica Sims to the hospital and how exactly she had died.
Wesley wanted to get rid of his flowers but Mildred told him to keep them in case they got caught by some healer as they scooped around the hospital.
"We will pretend we got lost trying to find our friend's room. The gifts will serve as a proof."
"Right. Let's go then."
They wondered around the building, without having a clue where to go. One healer passed by them in a rush, ignoring the pair. An open door revealed a lounge where two nurses laughed and drank tea. Mildred and Wesley passed by that door as fast as they could. In one of the floors they saw a man with an eye in his forehead being attended by a healer. In another room there was a nurse trying to comfort a father. Bubbles came out of his daughter's mouth, just like fishes did. The nurse was telling the little girl's father that such condition would eventually disappear. He seemed more worried about his own situation than the daughter's state because he kept repeating:
"My wife is going to kill me!"
From a closed door they heard a woman screaming in pain and they ran out of there, not curious about what was happening inside. A few meters away a man was arguing with a female healer, refusing to tell her what sort of potion he had brewed and drank. His face was covered with purple pustules and a nauseated stench came from him.
After ten minutes walking without following any particular direction and without finding what they were looking for Wesley decided they should take a risk and ask someone where the medical records were kept. Assuming they existed, of course. Mildred was about to agree with Wesley when they crossed another corridor. She halted, looking around.
"What is it Mildred?"
"I think I have been here before…"
She returned to her walking, her steps echoing on the walls: there was no one there but them. Doors paraded on her left and right all closed. She turned to one of the doors on the right, where bronze plaque indicated the room was the office of a witch named A. Abbott. Just above the plaque there was a mark, proving there used to be another plaque there. Mildred touched the smooth surface of the door, where that plaque used to be, knowing exactly which name had been written on it.
"This used to be my father's office."
Her hand moved to the doorknob, ready to open it.
"What if there's someone inside?" Wesley asked.
Mildred ignored him and opened the door. She wanted to take a look at the division. Luckily, there was no one inside. The office didn't look like it was used often and Mildred could tell whoever A. Abbott was, he or she spent most of the time directly with his or hers patients.
"Mildred, we don't have time for this. We must keep searching for those files! Soon my father and your grandmother will start wondering about us..." Wesley reminded her.
But she barely listened to him. Instead a picture came to her mind about how the office used to look like. There were frames with photographs on the desk and a small comfortable rug covered most of the floor. There used to be a plant too and a pink tea cup. A pink tea cup? Her father didn't use to drink tea, he preferred coffee, Mildred was sure of that. Who drank tea in a pink cup? Her mother used to have an old pink cup at home. She would always use that cup, not bothering to fix the small crack that had appeared on it. Why would her mother bring such cup to the hospital? It didn't make sense. Unless…
"Wesley…" she said in a low tone. "I was wrong. This wasn't my father's office: it was my mother's."
No Time To Say Hello, Goodbye! (Mockridge Townhouse - Hartcrofte House - Ministry of Magic)
Author: Peregrinus Hartcrofte
Date: 02-22-14 18:04
Nephele looked at the clock for the third time in the span of five minutes, as if rapid checking would exert some influence on the outcome. It's not like Pippin to be running late, especially for work. The dynamic duo of Mockridge and Hartcrofte were scheduled to interrogate Camille Revanche again, in hopes that a new line of questioning might yield some clues about her criminal compatriots.
Even under the effects of Veritaserum, all lines of interrogation thus far had yielded little to go on. Suspicions were confirmed that a criminal cartel was committing crimes under the personae of characters from Lewis Carroll's Wonderland books. Revanche herself was the group's White Rabbit, but knew nothing of the identities of the other members of the cabal: the personae were far more than mere affectation; they provided a level of secrecy that not even Veritaserum could crack. Only by catching the ringleader could the Ministry unmask them all. To do this, they needed clues, and Peregrinus Hartcrofte was running very late for this very important date.
I don't think he'd mind if I Floo'd over to see what's keeping him. It might even make for a nice surprise! Thus emboldened, Nephele took a pinch of Floo Powder, stepped into her fireplace, and disappeared in a rush of emerald flame. "Hartcrofte House!"
A strangled cry of pain greeted Nephele as she materialized. Instinct had her feet moving toward the noise before her brain could begin to contemplate what grisly scene she might stumble upon. Up the stairs she flew, taking steps by twos and threes, until she came upon Pippin, prone on the floor of his bedroom, clad in naught but a pair of white boxer shorts bespotted with yellow rubber duckies.
The source of his agony was readily apparent, as lines of script appeared on Pip's exposed skin, as if seared into existence by an invisible brand. Nephele was by his side in a heartbeat. "Pip! Pip, are you alright? What's going on?"
Pip seized Nephele's hand in his, managing to avoid applying crushing pressure by an exertion of great will. That and the look in his eyes conveyed what he could not yet vocalize. I'm not in immediate danger. I'll tell you what's happening as soon as this ends.
True to his unspoken word, Pip's agony subsided a few minutes later. An examination in the mirror revealed that, like the other scripted tattoos on his body, these new tattoos were quotes from various books. After very gingerly dressing himself, Pip sat next to Nephele, and began to weave his tale.
"I know that I should have told you about all of this before now; I just never found the right moment. Now it seems 'the right moment' has been thrust upon me. It all started quite some time ago, when a group of seven very idealistic wizards, puffed up with pride in themselves and the strength of their magic, set out to find a legendary statue that would grant a wish to whomever found it. These wizards overcame great peril, and did indeed find that statue. Their wishes were granted, but in doing so a terrible dark wizard, nay some would argue a dark god, was unleashed. A mighty battle was fought, and the seven wizards prevailed only by shattering the dark wizard's soul into seven pieces, sealing those pieces into their own souls. The dark wizard's last act was to reach out with his terrible magic and curse those wizards."
"It's not much of a stretch to assume that you were one of those seven."
"Oh, yes. All of the Blackguard. Well, except for you, of course, Rondy, and Winnie. My wish is how my Library came to be. We've added some spells of our own, but for the most part, it came to be that day."
"And your curse is to have words carved into your skin?"
"Oh, if only it was that simple. No, the dark wizard was far more inventive than that. I'm slowly becoming a part of my Library – I'm becoming a book." The look of concern on Nephele's face triggered an immediate shift in Pip's tone. "Slowly! Very slowly. I get a new bit of text once every ten to fourteen months. The doctors at St. Mungo's say that my blood is several shades darker than normal blood, as if it's turning into ink. I still expect to have a long, healthy … I won't go so far as to say normal life, but we've estimated that I will be an old man long before I'm ready for the shelf. And you know how Cassandra can see how people die? Well, she can't see anything for me, which makes me believe that my spirit will live on, even once the curse has run its course."
Questions were asked, and answered to the best of Pip's ability. Eventually, Nephele's pragmatical nature asserted its dominance. "I think that's all for today, Pip. I understand why you would wait to share this kind of information, but I can't say that I'm not hurt that I had to find out this way. For now, let's get over to the Ministry and see if Camille Revanche can be as forthcoming with her secrets."
When the two of them reached Camille Revanche's heavily guarded cell within the Ministry, they were shocked at what they found.
"Guards! Get a medic! Someone got in here and eviscerated the prisoner!"
Distracted
Author: Lucius Malfoy
Date: 02-22-14 20:18
Mortifer knocks a goblet from the sideboard, instantly freezing, a stricken expression on his face. When his mistress doesn't acknowledge the accident or even that Mortifer is there, Lucius and Draco exchange quizzical looks. Mortifer quickly picks up the goblet and hastily cleans the spill of wine, quaking slightly as if expecting Bellatrix to send a firey burn somewhere on his body or to inflict pain some other way, despite the goblet knocking over really was an accident as someone not only had placed it there instead of the table but has set the goblet down with its based precariously hanging over the lip of the sideboard. When not even a tongue lashing is forthcoming, Mortifer hastens to begin serving the second course before Mistress decides to take action either for the goblet falling or Mortifer's slowness in getting the second course.
The first course had been baked parmesan oysters. The second course is a creamy chestnut bisque. After eating two or three bites, Draco remarks, "Mortifer is looking almost as old as I remember Kreecher looking, Aunt Bellatrix."
Bellatrix, a far away look in her eyes, murmurs, "Uh hmmmm. Mortifer is cold. Perhaps he needs a thicker tea towel to wear."
Lucius opens his mouth to correct Bellatrix but Barty shakes his head. "It's no use. Ever since picking up something for," Barty's eyes cut to Draco, Asteria, and Carina, "a friend earlier in the month, she's been prone to distraction and wool gathering."
Gudrun affirms this by saying, "Two days ago, when a house elf was adding wood to the fire, the creature caused some sparks to fly and catch Bellatrix's hem on fire. The house elf hurled water at her and she didn't seem to notice either the fire or the water. House later she wondered aloud how she managed to get a hole in her robes."
Sitting at the head of the table, Bellatrix is vaguely aware she's the center of discussion among her house guests. Since meeting with someone calling himself Jimmy Stewart, Barty and she using the names Fred and Ginger as instructed by Fairchild, Bellatrix has been extremely distracted. It took her awhile to peg exactly why and since then she's been deep in thought on how to verify her supposition. A plan has begun forming. It's early stages yet but she thinks she'll be able to pull it off without incident and possibly without needing to involve Barty and Gudrun. Having either along would generage too many questions she's not ready to answer quite yet.
Plastering a smile on her face, Bellatrix pulls herself from her thoughts to inquire if everyone's bisque is to their liking and to say, "Third course is a lovely smoked salmon."
Lucius refrains from snorting at hearing Bellatrix Lestrange describe a fish course as lovely. If this is how the rest of Christmas Eve is to be, he's bloody chuffed that tomorrow is to be spend with Asteria's family, the Greengrasses.
(Peak District) A Feline Christmas
Author: Cassandra Catesby
Date: 02-23-14 03:11
The cottage was nestled amongst a small gully which sliced its way into the inverted horseshoe of the Dark Peak, the higher, wilder northern part of the Peak District. Built of the local stone, the cottage seemed to grow organically from out of the surrounding rocks; unless you knew it was there, it was hard to spot. But this particular part of the area was not on any of the walking trails that wended their way through the National Park and the addition of Muggle-repelling charms ensured the occupants would not be disturbed by unexpected visitors.
The day had been crisp and clear, but now what little warmth the winter sunlight had provided had begun to fade as the inky fingers of twilight inched across the sky. Inside the cottage a fire burned in the hearth creating a cosy warmth. It would have been an inviting way to spend Christmas Eve, snuggled up in front of the flames, were it not for one key detail.
She was stuck in the form of a cat.
Cassandra gave a soft humph and curled herself up on the arm of a chair. Midnight-blue eyes watched the cottage's other occupant. If she were honest, she felt a little guilty. Kirley had given up his traditional family Christmas for her. Moreover, he had agreed to lie to his family; Cloris and Valeria, at least, believed she and he were spending Christmas with the elder Catesbys in Normandy. She knew that Nephele and Pip were both still involved in interrogating Camille Revanche, so Kirley was not the only one to be absent from the Mockridge Townhouse for a lot of the season, although no doubt Nephele was planning to spend at least some time tomorrow with her mother and niece; Cass knew Kirley was also planning to pop back at least briefly in order to exchange gifts. Nonetheless, she still felt bad about it.
She glanced towards the window. The full moon was already out, shining like a silver penny against the darkening sky. There were no clouds to block it from view. Not that it mattered if there were. The curse always knew. It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase 'that time of the month'. She almost envied those women who only had to worry about a little PMT.
If only one of Nephele's potions had worked, but so far none had. She was beginning to doubt that any ever would. None of her ancestors had ever discovered over a cure despite all the centuries that had passed. Maybe one simply did not exist.
Other than ensuring there are no female Catesbys to carry the curse, she thought, not for the first time. She saw no other way to break the cycle. She was determined that though she might be only the latest of the Catesbys to bear the curse, she would also be the last.
The Best Christmas Gift
Author: Rowan Westwick
Date: 02-23-14 13:21
Elgiva and Cyrus Finch had done their very best to make Christmas memorable for the Westwick siblings, providing them each with stockings stuffed with small gifts and preparing a Christmas goose for supper. Ash, Rowan, and Willow were all very glad the Finches had taken them in, though Christmas at Hogwarts probably wasn't so bad either.
They sat at the dinner table, set with now-empty plates and partially-filled dishes, and talked in between moaning over their very full bellies.
"What plans have you made with Beatrix?" Elgiva asked Rowan. She toyed with the stem of her glass of advocaat, savoring the drink slowly after such a big meal.
Rowan shrugged. "Nothing is set in stone yet," she said. Beatrix had already come for a visit, and now they were making plans for Rowan (and Ash, if Beatrix had her way) to visit the Vanderbilt home in Canterbury. "We thought as early as the day after Christmas, or maybe New Year's Eve. I think her family might be having a celebration."
"Sounds nice," Elgiva said. "Not so fast, Willow."
Willow, looking a bit flushed in her cheeks, set down her teeny-tiny glass of egg liqueur. She had successfully argued that she was an adult in calendar years and that she should be able to have an after-dinner schnapps, especially on a holiday such as Christmas Eve. Advocaat was the sort of drink that even someone who didn't have a taste for alcohol might like, being similar to eggnog and kind of appropriate for the occasion.
Rowan and Ash also had small glasses of the alcoholic beverage, though neither had initially asked for one.
Before anyone at the table could resume the conversation, there was a knock at the door. Cyrus got up, mumbling, "Who could that be?", and went to the door.
The others remained at the table, craning their ears to find out who their visitor was, but they could only make out a hushed conversation. After a few seconds, they heard a pair of approaching foosteps, and then Cyrus reappeared in the dining room with their visitor.
"Dad!" Rowan exclaimed, leaping up from her chair.
Ash rose from his seat, and Willow nearly fell out of hers.
"What are you doing here? I thought you had to stay in Azkaban until January!" Rowan said, giving her father a big hug.
"Evidently, this is my Christmas gift," Linden said into Rowan's hair. Then he let her go and hugged Willow, who had started to cry.
Ash waited his turn and then shook his father's hand, but then Linden pulled him into an embrace. When Ash pulled away, his eyes were a little moist.
"What a nice surprise!" Elgiva exclaimed.
"Yes, I would say so," Linden agreed.
"Come to the table and eat. We ate far too much for our own good, but we didn't eat everything!" Cyrus said, indicating for Linden to have his chair.
He summoned another one to the table and squeezed it in next to his wife's seat. The Westwick children sat back in their own chairs and gazed at their father in wonder. They had already received very nice gifts for Christmas, but having their father back was the best gift of all.
My Christmas Wish
Author: Karma Davyd
Date: 02-23-14 16:41
Strains of musical merriment filled the house, but the joy of the holiday did not quite fill every member in the Morgan house this holiday season. The children, despite their father still missing, were joyfully singing and playing with small gifts that they'd been given from their grandparents in India. There would be gifts from their other grandparents tomorrow morning when we floo'd to their home for Christmas dinner.
Jui was dancing with KJ, while Nuri chewed contentedly upon a plastic ring that was part of a stackable toy she'd been given. Their moments of play were soon punctuated with yawns, and the rubbing of eyes.
"Jui, KJ, toys away while I get Nuri into bed please."
Things had been much less stressful now that I was home during the day, and the girls were not in daycare all day. I was making up for lost time, and loving every moment I got to spend with my three girls – wishing that Dexter was here to be apart of their first Christmas, but I would ensure that there were plenty of photographs for him to see when he finally came home to us – because I refused to believe that he had truly abandoned us – or worse, that he was dead.
Nuri was asleep near instantly, once she was settled in her crib, and I returned to the living room, pleased to see that all the toys were put away. "Thank you girls for putting everything away. Now, each of you get one sugar biscuit before bed. Then, brush your teeth and there may or may not be christmas pajamas on your beds."
They each selected a small sugar biscuit from the plate – we had made and decorated the cookies earlier today and the kitchen had only slightly looked like it was coated in glitter thanks to the sugar crystals that were used to decorate the biscuits. We sat before the fire, and I relished in spending some quiet time with the two oldest, before sending them off toward the bathroom to get their teeth brushed.
I couldn't help but laugh at the squeals of delight as they found their special pajamas laid out on their beds. Jui had a pair of rich, sapphire colored pajamas that had shimmering, glittery snowflakes on it. KJ had a pair of deep, scarlet colored pajamas that had snowmen on them that glittered as well. Within moments both girls were rushing out for hugs and kisses, for bed.
"Good night mama."
I kissed them both, and then watched as they walked over to the picture of Dexter and I on the beach of Rhodes in Greece, where we were married. They both kissed their fingertips and pressed it to Dex's side of the picture.
"Good night Daddy and Happy Christmas.."
I bit back a sob, and hugged them both again.
"Alright you two, bed. We have a busy day tomorrow full of family and presents."
I sent them off to bed, but Jui lingered, hugging me tight, just as she went to pull away she whispered softly in my ear...
"I miss him most at bedtime too mama..."
Those words, so soft were my undoing. Unable to keep the tears at bay, I clung to my eldest daughter a few more moments before pulling back. With a soft kiss to my tear stained cheek, my eldest daughter turned and retreated to her bed for the night, leaving me alone with nothing more than the sounds of the fire crackling merrily in the hearth and my tears.