"Now, Johann tells me you're not much of a coffee drinker," Camille reached out to lay a hand on Balfour's right forearm, "so as well as the koffiekoeken there are some traditional pastries. I understand you might think of them a little like Danish pastries, you know the sort?"

From the other side of his mother, Johann suddenly perked up from examining a letter from distant Duerr family.
"You brought koffiekoeken, where are they?"
"Not for you, for the Spectres darling." Camille nudged her son with her right elbow gently, her attention still with Balfour to her left, smile widening as she shook her head gently. The items in question had been left with Grizelda the house elf to bring through at the appropriate moment. Mildly disappointed, Johann's head dropped again to return to reading the long letter, crossing one leg over the other, wearing a pair of gifted slippers.

"I'm sorry I couldn't take up your very kind invitation for Christmas day." Camille continued, "I understand I missed quite a treat." She lifted her hand from Balfour's arm and rearranged her long sleeves of her fern green jacket. "Though no more parading hippogriffs - is that on again for new year?"

The tone of voice suggested she knew perfectly well the Spectres would be celebrating new year in yet another tradition. It had been her first glimpse of Balfour at Samhain when he had led one of the hippogriffs between two bonfires. She was most glad to find out he was all the more dashing at closer view, and incredibly easy to hold conversation with.

Johann turned over to the next page of the letter, chuckling softly to himself at the antics of a distant cousin recounted in an annual letter.
"Oh you've got to that bit, how utterly ridiculous isn't it?" Camille asked him softly bending forward to her feet where her handbag was. "One of those dreadful Christmas letters," she explained to Balfour, a hand going inside her bag, "but we have a somewhat distant cousin who is determined to break all sorts of records with broomsticks, but only seems to be breaking the brooms and her bones." Johann exclaimed at what he was reading, only it wasn't in English and in Dutch instead, due to the language he was reading.

"While he's merrily entertained," Camille spoke in a low voice to Balfour, pulling out a photo album and extending it towards the Scotsman to take. "I heard your sister has already embarrassed you, so let me equal the score."

The manor, thank Odin, was in a much calmer state in the days that followed Christmas.

Balfour's many uncles and aunts (and their noisy brood) had returned to their respective homes or spent much of their days in the city of Edinburgh, where Winter markets and festivals were still in full swing. The odd child pottered about but it was a big home and everyone seem absorbed in their own activities - he had gone all morning without seeing Nathaira.

Johann and Camille were ample company. He was in a disgracefully cheerful mood, still buzzing with delight from declarations of love not five days ago, and would have adored his lover's mother even if she hadn't been so endearing.

"Oh gods, no -" the wizard laughed as he rolled up his sweater sleeves. "- once a year is quite enough for Hippogriffs. Lots of fireworks at New Year's anyway. All we'll be needing is a talk, dark and handsome stranger to cross the threshold..."

He glanced at Johann fleetingly, skin around his eyes crinkling fondly as the other man continued to peruse correspondence. Love. His lover was sat in the drawing room reading letters. They were so lucky, too lucky.

Balfour smiled when Camille clarified the matter of an adventurous distant cousin, politely remarking that there was always one in every family after all but failing to add that he had likely been the Spectre daredevil until very recently. It didn't seem important and, indeed, flew right out of his head as soon as he noticed the photo album being handed over.

Looking up to ensure Johann was still preoccupied, he opened the album and shared a conspiratorial wink with the witch next to him. Yes. He liked Camille Storm very much. Wolfgang was a right monster but he must have really loved her.

At the first glimpse of bouncing dark curls and tiny, busy fingers, Balfour felt his heart fumble for rhythm. He covered his soppy grin with a hand. Christ.


Normal, candid photographs. Little Johann at beaches or on holiday, a restless boy with a busy mind - parents having to keep him still for the more formal shots. It was strange to see him alone. No brothers or sisters, unlike the Spectre albums. Balfour paused at one photograph in particular with a thoughtful laugh.

Johann... perhaps five or six, fast asleep on his father's lap. It was Christmas time and he held a cuddly toy dragon in his small arms. Balfour himself had a few of those stored away in his study. He didn't know why he kept things like that; had an inkling that some day his own children would want them.

"Do you still have your dragon, my love?" he looked up to finally catch Joh's attention, grinning as he bumped shoulders with Camille. "Did it breathe false flames too?"

On cue, Grizelda popped into the drawing room with a tea tray of drinks and pastries.

"… tall, dark and handsome stranger…" Balfour explained, and glanced to her son. Camille smiled, knowing that despite Johann's visible preoccupation with the family letter, he would have half an ear out to what was being said. More importantly, she admired the look Balfour gave and recognised the love and affection. It warmed her heart to know that Balfour felt that way towards her only child.

Her lips twisted into a different smile as Balfour opened the album and began to take a look. She had been through to rearrange them lately, so that there were just ones of him in the album rather than a mix chronologically. Navigating photographs of Wolfgang still had a tendency to reduce her to quiet sobs and make her heart drop heavily into her belly. It was especially painful for the thought of what would have been his 64th birthday the following day. Of course her late husband was in the album, but in much happier times.

Balfour was visibly amused at the pale sandcastle-constructing three year old version of the wizard sat on the other end of the sofa, but turned the page. Camille allowed him to do so without guidance, there was an odd note beside a few to note rough dates and locations. The sight of Wolfgang with a sleeping Johann in his lap stirred an odd feeling, but only Camille's lowered gaze to the album in Balfour's arms suggested a momentary shift in mood as she pushed aside very different thoughts that snuck up.

"Did it breathe false flames too?" Balfour asked, bumping shoulders gently with Camille on her left side. The house-elf's reappearance caught her by surprise and she looked up to recognise the aforementioned edible offerings.

The letter was an absolute hoot, but he was keeping half an ear out, not intending to leave his mother and Balfour to suffer conversation alone. Suffer, hah, not really - both were more than adequate conversationalists. Given half a chance the three of them might be able to talk until dawn. Best not though, many miles to travel tomorrow, and time to think about it later.

"Do you still have your dragon, my love?"
"Hmm?" Johann replied absentmindedly, automatically without looking up. Then his mind realised it was a direct question with some sort of prompt he'd missed and he glanced up, lowering the letter. His eyes caught sight of the album in Balfour's hands.
"Hey, you, ahh…"
"Did it breathe false flames too?"

Johann's forehead creased as he tried to recall.
"Have I-?" He glanced to his left to his mother.
"Did you not take it back with you last year when Ignan's father-"
"If I did it'll be in one of the boxes in the other flat that I haven't unpacked." He replied to Balfour, looking past his mother to his lover. There were quite a few of those covered in papers in the second floor flat that he only worked in these days. "And I don't think it was flames, more the roar when I pulled its tail and it hovered and inch or so up off the ground a moment. Christmas present, absolutely attached to it for months. Yours did breathe flames, I presume? Did we expect anything less?"

Camille reached forward between them to point out the different types of pastry for Balfour.
"You're safe with the pastries," Johann told him with a wink, unfolding his legs, "you've got the sweet tooth."

Pleased as a child to have finally robbed his partner's attention from the letter, Balfour glanced between mother and son as they tried to suppose where Johann's dragon toy had ended up. They were close - closer than he was with his own mother, more similar to his relationship with Balthair or Knox.

He picked up one of the koffiekoeken and bit into it as Grizelda disappeared with another pop!

"FFhlames an' growwhlfing," the wizard replied, mouth full whilst he made an attempt to swallow and smile sheepishly at the mention of his sweet tooth. He looked away from Johann, feeling a bit like a mannerless bairn.

Something about Camille made him want to behave well. Possibly the fact that she taught at Hogwarts.

"Used to get the most awful sugar rushes." Balfour held the pastry slightly away as his attention returned to the album, scanning photographs and settling often on the familiar head of curls. "Oh."

He paused to chuckle at a photograph in which a witch - Aunt Alosia, a notation  read - was gaping at 9 year old Johann, whose origami cane was shaping up to be much more complex than her paper hat. "So he's always been good with his hands..." Balfour observed absently.

While he could be gentle, his skills did not lean towards delicate or intricate work, and he often envied Johann that inclination. It took a sense of fineness that Balfour did not possess.

"And alway this precocious?" he remembered himself presently and finished off the koffiekoeken in one bite, smirking. He almost added that Johann can't have gotten it from Camille but bit back the comment. Wolfgang had not passed that long ago and Balfour wanted to tread lightly to make a good impression.

"Origami?" Camille asked, "He used to try and copy me. I learned as a girl with my sister, a way of dressing up presents and such. Here, in here somewhere - there."

Johann's mother pointed to another photo, dated December 1983, picturing a Christmas wrapping scene in the living room of their Frankfurt home. Rolls of paper were strewn on the polished floor but in the middle were Camille and a little Johann of seven, in deep red robes, sat cross-legged. A Camille two decades younger was leading how to fold and Johann was entirely engrossed.

"My Aunt - father's sister - hadn't ever seen me do it." The wizard to her right explained, "And, naturally I never miss a moment to show off." He shrugged, and Camille reached out to pat his wrist gently, as if to suggest he wasn't that bad, though they knew he really could be. "Don't suppose you brought the Gundersen Christmas letter. My Christmas is not complete without hearing the achievements for Brigit and Thorben…" The sarcasm was dripping.

Camille shook her head and gave Johann a frown for the tone. She did not want to destroy relations with her sister-in-law, whatever her late husband had done towards the end. They were still family. Either way it wasn't time to chastise him on his prejudices with Balfour right there, and them spending the day together tomorrow to see her own family.

"And yes, he has been. Infuriatingly so at times. Though truth be told the whole of that side of the family are a bit that way, so I forgive him it." She ruffled her son's curls and turned back to Balfour properly. "You're a good influence on him, Balfour. No really, you've been wonderful. I've never seen him happier. You're a wonder. I'd say the same to your parents if I ever, erm, meet them." Camille stumbled, having met other Spectres and family late October. There was an awkward pause, and she hurried to change pages.

"This one will make you laugh, here-" She pointed it out and Johann groaned. "Bless him, I couldn't stop laughing. Pepper-up potion. Bet you've had that as a child," she asked Balfour. He didn't look the sort to ever get ill though, one of those robust souls. Excellent bloodline for grandchildren….

"There you go, as well," Johann added, leaning over, squashing his mother a bit between them, though she didn't seem to mind, "You were asking how my room was when I was growing up since I've seen yours…" He reached over and snatched up some of the coffee cake with a smug look.

He laughed lightly at the exchange between Johann and Camille, only half listening as he continued to looking through the photographs and observe the ones pointed out. Balfour leaned back a little in the couch and was feeling quite relaxed when the witch next to him began, "You're a good influence on him, Balfour...."

His ears burned self-consciously, the wizard feeling both embarrassed and pleased beyond belief at being praised by his partner's mother. Balfour was anxious that she like him but he wasn't used to being called 'a wonder' by anyone outside of the family - besides Johann of course.

"You will-" he tried to amend, remembering his parents in the mortified manner of any son who continues to forget his parents. "- meet them, eventually. But I'm much closer to Knox and sea-- my grandfather."

They were at least more accustomed to meeting new partners than Balfour's parents, who for many years now had refrained from making personal remarks on their youngest child's adventures.

Camille rescued the current party from potential awkwardness by drawing their attention back to the album. Balfour was immediately diverted, blue eyes flicking from Johann's face before him to the significantly younger one in the photograph. He snorted at the unimpressed expression, the little book of puzzles that seven year old Johann held.

Everything he loved about Joh was peppered all throughout the photographs.

"So many books, my love. We ought to get another shelf for the flat..." he answered distractedly, flipping a couple of pages. "I did take Pepper-up once. Was more the sort to get cuts and bruises. Broken bones. Some things don't change." Balfour stopped to consider a young adolescent version of his lover, dressed in red Obertail robes - he'd once seen a photo of Dietrich in the same.

Not for the first time, he wondered what it might have been like to go to Hogwarts with Johann. Would they have gotten along? He suspected he might have bullied him, or teased at least.

"Red is rather his colour, isn't it?" Balfour met Camille's gaze with an impish smile, purposefully ignoring his partner. "We might cajole him into playing dear Saint Nicholas next Christmas. Albeit a very skinny one."

"So many books, my love. We ought to get another shelf for the flat…"
"Oh, don't encourage me." Johann replied, mouth part full. He shook his head. "We'll leave my flat as a sort of library, I can't be cluttering up yours as well. That's been one good thing about living out of a bag for two years since coming to Britain, I've not had a chance to spread out my clutter." He picked a couple of crumbs off the letter in his lap, contemplating the second floor flat. It had no home comforts of Balfour's, filled with second hand furniture strewn with his work. "I've got all of yours to read as well of course."

He let Balfour continue, picking up the letter and continuing for a few paragraphs more until his mother interrupted and his curiosity got the better of him.

"One of my favourites." Ah, school photo. It had a more recent memory for Johann for seeing it again while visiting his mother a few months back, stalling conversation.
"Ridiculous uniform." He uttered, "Hogwarts is much more sensible. Well, the uniform is, anyhow."

"Red is rather his colour, isn't it?" Balfour looked to Camille rather than Johann who sensed a trap. "We might cajole him into playing dear Saint Nicholas next Christmas. Albeit a very skinny one." Johann's mother chuckled at that notion.
"I think so." She agreed with a nod at Balfour. She was a good sport like that, and so was her son, or he'd learn to be!

"Weihnachtsmann is altogether more child-friendly than Grandfather Death." Johann agreed, making reference to the costume he had donned for a Le Masque night where he had entertained a tricky conversation with Rascal Rosier as Rumpelstiltskin. "Saint Nicholas, or der Nikolaus for mother and I, came along on the sixth to place sweets in my shoes." Johann smiled fondly to Balfour as he explained his different stance on the formalities of Christmas from childhood. He still had to correct himself on the fact the British did Christmas on the 25th rather than the 24th. Either way it seemed a little absurd, especially since he didn't believe in the Muggle supposedly born at that time. Rather elaborate wizard more like, though if so he was able to break elemental laws of transfiguration with food...

"You might be quite popular to do that with Balfour's young cousins." His mother suggested.
"I imagine so." Johann agreed, glancing to her briefly before his gaze returned to Balfour. "My love," there was a great thrill in being able to say that, "you know I am not adverse to dressing up - though I shall keep a rabbit costume to hand for you for Easter." He winked at Balfour with a smug smirk, referencing the photograph Knox had shown him.

"Have the Spectres any Christmas traditions?" Camille asked, looking to Balfour with interest.

He was more than happy for his partner to spread out his clutter but Balfour dropped the subject easily enough, content with their living situation as it was. For now. They'd only just confessed love for one another the other night and he didn't want to get ahead of himself too soon.

Harmless as it might seem to be here with Johann and his mother, it was in reality a dangerous affair for Balfour.

The Spectres have often been introduced to his lovers but almost never to their families, unless they were friends of course. Camille Storm being in the manor was a pointed nudge in the direction of the clan - a wee signifier of his affections, his commitment. This wasn't another fling.

Balfour snorted at the remark on Hogwarts. "Sensible uniform, insensible students..." the wizard agreed.

"Ah, well. At least I'll know who to look at when the bairns step on their sweets and run about with sticky feet," he laughed at the notion, forgetting the photo album momentarily to wink at Camille. German Christmas! That was something to consider, wasn't it? A good thing it happened the day before, they could do both every year!

He stole another biscuit from the plate but didn't look to see which, distracted by Johann calling himmy love. Balfour stuck the sweet pastry between his teeth and sheepishly pushed down his sweater sleeves to hide his goosebumps. Christ. He could listen to those two words all day long, nothing more.

Fortunately Camille rescued him from that fantasy.

"I'll never forgive seanair for that!" he said just as she asked --
            "Have the Spectres any Christmas traditions?

Balfour swallowed, clearing his throat. He'd answered this question before - particularly at Hogwarts, where the celebration of Christmas had withstood its ban across the rest of Scotland. It was one of those things that everyone in the clan rather took for granted.

"Gift-giving and we play a bit of Snap-dragon the night before. You know," he gestured at the coffee table where a worn scorch mark was partially hidden by a knitted runner. "Brandy soaked raisins on fire, the children pick them out."

The cheeky smile on his face indicated that adults might sneakily play as well. Before he could continue, a voice at the doors cut in.

"That's an English tradition we've adopted." Nathaira Spectre allowed her accent the full extent of its Northern tinge as she entered the drawing room - a familiar sight in her tartan skirt and an oversized sweater. She carried a small sheaf of papers. "Old Christmas traditions are scarce, here. It wasn't much celebrated even after they lifted the ban in the 17th century."[1]

Balfour rose like it was instinct and took her hand as she approached, offering his seat. A kiss on her glowing cheeks as she sat and they were introduced. "You've met before, I believe? My sister, Knox. Johann's mother, Camille."

Samhain had been a long, drunken night for most others so she couldn't blame him for a muddled memory. Knox remembered, of course, and hugged the other witch in a warm manner - nearly dislodging a thick book on her lap.

"So good to see you again. And out of costume!" she smiled, glancing at Johann just then. "Spectres and Storms. How very alliterative."

1.	Cromwell's ban of Christmas is what led to Hogmanay traditions taking precedence, and Christmas was not even a public holiday in Scotland until 1958.

“Snapdragon?” Camille uttered though Balfour went on to elaborate effortlessly. It sounded a most unusual game, with risk of burned fingers, but she supposed a clever charm or two might be employed. Johann gave a quiet hum of agreement the other side of her as a familiar face interrupted: an expectant mother with rosy cheeks looking in the rudest of health to Camille’s joy. Johann folded away the letter from distant cousins and looked up with a bright smile to greet Knox, glad she was joining them.

"You've met before, I believe? My sister, Knox. Johann's mother, Camille.” Balfour introduced, leaping up from beside Camille to let Nathaira take his seat instead.
“Yes, yes, Samhain!” Camille fussed, and hugged Knox warmly in greeting.”You look ever so well my dear,” she exclaimed, two months on from when they had met, and it showed even with the oversized jumper covering her belly.
"So good to see you again. And out of costume!” Camille chuckled, remembering the dark and the costumes - the smell of bonfire coming to mind from October.

"Spectres and Storms. How very alliterative.”
“Oh, uhm, yes.” Camille agreed, thinking on Balfour and Johann. The Spectre name had great currency, respect in the British Isles as far as she could tell from others she had mentioned it to during Autumn.
”Meant to be.” Johann agreed, winking at Knox. Unexpectedly, Camille found her son’s hand squeeze hers.
“We’ve been embarrassing Johann, I brought photograph to even matters after you let him see Balfour's.” She explained to Knox, gesturing to the album she had handed Balfour a little while ago.

“How has your Christmas been? Thank you for having him, I understand it’s a busy time up here with all the family over Christmas. So sorry not to be able to take up the offer on Christmas Day, but thank you ever so much for the offer.” She felt it only polite to extend that to Knox as part of the the Spectre clan. “Did either of you ever spend Christmas at Hogwarts?”

Knox raised her eyebrows at the photo album their guest had brought along, fair gaze flicking to Balfour only for a moment to register the fond look he was giving Johann as he sat on the couch arm closest to her. Meant to be indeed. They were as smitten outwardly as they were inwardly, she felt.

"I've had a very relaxing Christmas, thank you..." Nathaira smiled as she left her papers - crossword games for the children - on the coffee table and rested a hand on the swell of her belly. "And we are always happy to have Johann here. The Storms are more than welcome."

One or two of their more conservative uncles had been made uncomfortable by her brother's affectionate manner but Spectres were raised to be good about that sort of thing, hardly what wizarding society considered scandalous behaviour. And besides, though she would never breathe a word to Balfour, they were a little frightened of how he reacted to  prejudices. It was a wonderful thing he loved so fiercely after all. Better for family to keep on the right side of that love.


"I did." Balfour answered Camille's question, leaning across to help himself to another pastry. "Knox would get homesick..."
            "I did not!" she exclaimed with mock indignation.
He continued, smiling, pretending not to hear. "And she would be so upset when I chose not to come home. Positively unconsolable."

Knox pinched her little brother's leg, pulling a face at him and then evenly turning back to the Storms. "He was always trying to get away from us back then but then he'd come home for the summer and mope about the house for weeks, you know."

Balfour smiled sheepishly through a mouthful of crumbs. Nathaira wanted to ask about Durmstrang and German Christmas but she didn't wish to broach on a subject that might involve a certain late wizard. The atmosphere was so pleasant and did not deserve to be dampened.

"Speaking of which," she glanced between Balfour and Johann before giving Camille a politely enquiring look. "Have either of these sickeningly sweet wizards given you the grand tour? Shown you off to the portraits?"

“…. Positively unconsolable.”
“I can relate.” Johann suggested, though there was an air of humour to the way he said it.
"...then he'd come home for the summer and mope about the house for weeks, you know.”

Johann raised his eyebrows at his love as Balfour smiled sheepishly and shook his head gently. How could anyone mope in such surroundings? Fair enough if there wasn’t enough to read he might understand. Then again, his summers from school had been filled with traipsing to work with his parents, being sent to stay with relatives and if he was lucky taken abroad by his parents for a holiday or a weekend. Given Balfour’s like to be social and to travel, the more he pondered it the more he realised wanderlust would cause a boy to mope even in such a vast estate. Hah, if they’d been friends back then, they might have built a treehouse or ambushed siblings. Merlin, he’d always wanted a brother and a decent garden to do that in as a kid. What a thought, knowing Balfour when he’d been at Hogwarts - how -

”Oh, no, I think they must have thought me weary,” His mother replied to Knox, and Johann realised he’d been too busy pondering a teenage Balfour, gazing towards the wizard in question past the two witches and had missed whatever Nathaira had said. They were getting up, oh, well, at least he could wrestle the photo album away from Balfour before it got to the particularly awkward looking years.
“Moping!” He gently chastised Balfour in a whisper as the two witches left the sofa. Johann hopped up and reached for Balfour’s waist with both hands, leaning close as they trailed behind. “Bet you wouldn’t dare these days,” he grinned and left soft kisses on his lover’s neck, content.

End