Christmas was both a time for family and friends, but also an acute reminder of loneliness. The previous Christmas, Camille and her late husband had moved from one social engagement to the next before spending a quiet Christmas alone together. Meanwhile back in Britain, their son had attended lunch with his best friend's parents. So began a ridiculous year which they were now at the end of. Camille was looking forward to forgetting it all.

"Christmas in Edinburgh?" Camille had asked, surprised at the gracious invitation, "I'd be honoured, darling, do give my deepest thanks to Balfour, Natharia and family, but I feel I need to be elsewhere." Over the top of the financial paperwork, Johann had looked perplexed. "This year shall be my turn." She tapped the note of Hannah Bombay's Gringotts vault number, noted ready for them to transfer the lost monies and more a few days before Christmas, before they closed the accounts.

Well, if she was not there, Camille could easily return to Hogwarts, where the few staff and students stopping over for Christmas would sit for lunch. That had been her original plan. Ignan and Miranda had gone away, Johann was with Balfour and family at the Spectre Estate, Gabrielle and Francis were having a quiet one with young Moira McBoid at their table while Angus was ill. Much as the latter would take her in ever so kindly, she did not want to impose.

Basket hanging from her arm, Camille double checked the address as she climbed the stairs in Hiraeth Gardens. It was a funny place, and as she passed she could hear signs of Christmas. Children laughing, the wireless playing Christmas carols. There was a strong smell of turkey and overcooked vegetables already in the air.

Eventually, she reached the door and took a deep breath before she raised her fist to knock firmly on Hannah's front door. It was a long minute, or so it felt, straining her ears for signs of life. She'd knock again, just to be sure. But as she raised her fist the door came open. Her fist uncurled immediately. This was the first time they had come face to face or near enough since late September. Both of them were looking a little better.

"Merry Christmas." Camille spoke gently, expression soft, gaze carefully examining the reaction. "One shouldn't be alone on Christmas Day." She turned calmly and lifted the cover of her basket to withdraw a rather nice bottle of wine. "And this is too good to drink by myself."

Christmas was regularly the one time of the year that Hannah willingly visited her parents. It was the only time of year that she didn’t pretend she was doing something else and actively avoid a hysterical crazy mother and a soft, boring father. She’d always used it as a day to remind herself where she’d come from; to remind herself of the parents she’d overcome to become the witch she was. It had always been a burden but her mother had delighted in the experience, finally getting to see her daughter.

Last year’s Christmas had been on to remember. Hannah had asked Johann to join her, an effort the make the experience bearable. This, she had greatly regretted. He’d inadvertently proposed to her and her hellish year had begun, spiralling quickly out of control.

This year Cynthia Bombay was too embarrassed by having a criminal as a daughter to bother inviting her. In fact, she’d gone so far as to disinvite her daughter with a rushed letter in forming Hannah that only family could be at her Christmas dinner and she didn’t have any werewolves or criminals in her family.

Whether it was a relief or a disappointment, Hannah was unsure. It meant that she didn’t have to endure her mother’s ramblings and bleating for an afternoon. It also meant that she was spending her Christmas sat in her pyjamas with a cat in her lap while looking forward to a bowl of cereal for her Christmas dinner.

When there was a knock at the door, Hannah wasn’t keen on the prospect of getting up and answering it. Would it be the people from next door asking for butter or her neighbours below demanding she turn the wireless down and stop her cat from dropping dead things on their doorstep?
It took a few minutes to place her report for Almasy on the coffee table and stand up with a well fed ginger cat still in her arms, purring loudly.

The young witch froze when her gaze fell on the witch at the door.
"One shouldn't be alone on Christmas Day." Camille Storm told Hannah as Hannah simply stared at her. In her arms, Herbert began to meow, growing fidgety but his owner didn’t move.
Camille showed her a bottle of wine but Hannah stared at her as if she was a ghost. She’d not seen Camille Storm since the courtroom when Wolfgang had died. She hadn’t been responsible but she’d been accused. She’d wished she was responsible. She’d wished she’d thought of it first. It would have been worth Azkaban.

There hadn’t perhaps ever been a time that Hannah had struggled for words quite as much as she did at this moment. In fact, words stumped her so much that she simply took a step to the side to allow Camille’s entry.
“That’s a good wine.” She finally commented.

"It is." Camille agreed in a low voice from the doorstep and raised her eyebrows for effect. "Too good not to share." Hannah had yielded and she was allowed inside, but Camille didn't rush. She slid back the bottle and smiled politely before she stepped over the threshold and made her way inside.

"I hope you don't mind, I consulted a reliable source what you might like to drink." She paused, turning back with a gentle smile. "Though I think it will go better with the food." Stood in Hannah's living room she examined the shorter witch with care. "Do tell me if I'm interrupting company or plans, Hannah. I'll leave you be if you ask. I just.. darling I couldn't bear to think of you alone, not after this wretched year. What better way to forget it than with fine wine and dinner with an intelligent human being?" She paused, tilted her head forwards a little and raised an eyebrow, "and since my only other option was Christmas dinner at Hogwarts…" the corner of her mouth quirked.

She paused, just long enough to check for confirmation that Hannah didn't want her to leave again.
"We'll need plates darling, glasses, where will I find your dining table…?"

Continuing to do the speaking for the both of them, Camille stepped into the flat and Hannah silently shut the door behind her. Johann’s mother had been to her previous flat and seen the destruction fire left behind. She’d seen the charcoaled walls and the lack of any real personal touch its tenant had left. This apartment was larger and more open plan with clean walls and clean carpets. There was still no real personal touch unless you counted the various books filling the bookshelves.

With a mention of her wretched year, Hannah looked away and at the coffee table in front of them. There lingered her reports for Almasy which she moved over to and scooped up. They were shoved in a drawer as Camille questioned the dining table. The very dining table that, since moving, had been in the spare room to keep the bodies on. The prospect if eating anything off that made the witch’s stomach turn.

“I ah… I don’t have one.” A frown. “But I do have plates.” She offered the witch a weak smile before gesturing to her pyjamas. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting company.” Least of all Wolfgang Storm’s wife. The last time they’d seen one another Storm had been dead on the floor and Hannah had been dragged from the courtroom, an accused murderer, while Camille had cried over her husband’s body.

Hannah was hastening to tidy up rather than ask her to leave. Camille's gaze caught sight of parchment papers. Merlin, the girl wasn't working on Christmas Day was she? Camille's heart felt a little heavy for the thought.

"It's no matter Hannah," Camille replied smoothly, smiling gently, "Don't apologise. I'd transfigure your coffee table, only it might decide to retransfigure midway through eating. It's been a long time since I've had to do that." She shrugged and headed over, crouching beside to decide how to assemble things on the coffee table instead. "This will do perfectly. We are having an unconventional Christmas as it is, so why not go the whole hog? Plates, glasses, cutlery if you would be so kind…"

The moment Hannah turned to collect the items from her kitchen, Camille drew her wand and a red Christmas tablecloth unfolded itself, the other items marching out behind it to assemble two places. Still crouched on Hannah's rather modern and uncarpeted living room floor, Camille used her wand with well practiced gestures to warm each of the bowls until they steamed once more. In minutes, Hannah's living room smelled much like the stairs up, a mixture of warm roast turkey, carrots, sprouts, cauliflower, parsnips, roast potatoes, sausages wrapped in bacon and stuffing. Despite herself, Camille's stomach rumbled.

Seeing Hannah approach to set down the crockery, she extended the first bottle of wine to the smaller witch.
"Would you do the honours? Turkey to your taste? There is a little beef too - Johann mentioned you have a liking for beef, but well, I thought it might be home from home if I went with the British tradition of turkey."

Camille tucked the basket out of the way and got back to her feet to toast Hannah, lifting her jaw, standing proud in respect.

"To you Hannah, resilient, determined, not-to-be daughter-in-law. Merry Christmas darling. From us both."


End