"Rather guilty of swinging the bairns about. Hard to resist, as Alex was positively adorable. Well, still is."

She remembered being swung about as a child, but Balfour had usually limited himself to picking her up in recent years, so the possibility hadn’t occurred. Being perceived as a child was… unwelcome. Perhaps inevitable, given that Balfour had known her since she was an infant, and even though she was now an adult, it was a technicality which meant little as far as experience and maturity went.

But understanding why brought no reassurance, and her smile was stiff with discomfort. There was no point saying anything, especially at this time, and Alex was relieved by the change of topic.

"Do you study divination at all? I was explaining Bleigießen to Balfour the other night, but he says it's not a thing here.  I looked it up, the English is Molybdomancy - divination with lead.  One of our stranger customs from home, one heats it up in a spoon, then drops it into a bucket of cold water and divines from the shapes it makes.  I used to laugh at how ridiculous it was, but I'm no divination scholar."

"We should try it after first-footing. I can never take these things seriously but it would be a bit of fun for the small ones. Certainly sounds more exciting than staring into a crystal ball."

Even discussion of divination was preferable to this.

Divination was, as far as she knew, a difficult branch of magic due to the high level of interpretation needed, but for all that, Alex found it difficult to respect the skill of it. What was the point of a life with a certain fate? Of course, one could predict the actions of others, but that was a matter of psychology – provoke Bevans and he would bristle like an angry knarl. It was a far cry from the lack of meaningful choice implied by destiny.

Alex liked certainty in most things, but not where her future was concerned. Life was inherently uncertain, it was part of the appeal.

“Hogwarts offers divination, but I chose not to take it,” Alex offered, careful to keep her voice neutral. Tone lightening considerably, she continued, “Haruspex isn’t included on the curriculum.” Typically, people were sufficiently discomfited by the idea of intestines that discussion of divination would stop when her favourite branch of divination was brought up.

“I’m sure that the children will enjoy molybdomancy.” It had the advantage of novelty, for one. And, as Johann had pointed out, it was ridiculous, even by the standards of divination. “Do you have other traditions for the New Year? The main tradition in England is getting drunk, which precludes most other traditions.” Unless one counted throwing up from being so drunk. She was sure somebody would this year, since Slant would doubtless convince someone to drink some of her vile rotgut.

"We should try it after first-footing.” Balfour suggested, and Johann allowed a gentle smile to tug at his mouth in response to the suggestion. Perhaps, depending on where they ended up that evening and how lucid he was past midnight with small children and hot, poisonous lead. He could remember his sceptic father begrudgingly helping him as a six year old, sat cross-legged behind him on the floor by a Paris fireplace, liquor on his breath as he leant over Johann’s shoulder to guide his pale hand with the spoon into the flames. His gaze was mostly turned to Alex in the hope that this topic of conversation might be suitable.

“Hogwarts offers divination, but I chose not to take it, haruspex isn’t included on the curriculum.”
“Aha, nobody quite wants to consider what their liver predicts.” Johann replied softly, quickly assessing conversation routes about dissecting animals and analysing the presentation of their livers and other organs to predict the weather, recovery from illness of another or any other question sought.

"Do you have other traditions for the New Year? The main tradition in England is getting drunk, which precludes most other traditions.” Alex asked politely.
“So I understand,” Johann agreed, equally polite. “Most of my childhood and teenage years we observed Le Réveillon, which is a family dinner of goose, turkey, sometimes oysters with champagne - lasts for hours. My maternal aunt usually hosts in Paris, and I have appeased my younger cousins in the past to side-along apparate and visit Montmarte to watch any fireworks the muggles let off.” Nothing groundbreaking, admittedly, new year celebrations were always related to food, cleansing of the old, bringing in luck. “What about you?” He asked Alex, setting aside his empty teacup, "Do you make resolutions, or are those only for children too?”

An eyebrow twitched, but Alex refused to raise it at Johann’s comment. Was the man dense? “I’d much rather find out what someone else’s liver predicts,” Alex said blithely, smiling to reassure Balfour that she was joking. She sincerely hoped she would never have to see her own liver, much less divine the future from it. It seemed an extremely cruel punishment – the kind of thing Theo would enjoy.

"Do you make resolutions, or are those only for children too?”

“I don’t, personally, but plenty of adults do.” Though if someone really wanted to make a change in their life, they wouldn’t wait for the New Year to resolve something. It was why so many resolutions failed in the first weeks and months of the year; people didn’t really want to pursue them. They were just half-hearted attempts, a gesture to show that you were trying to be a better version of yourself.

Food and fireworks sounded much better – really, what could be a better tradition than good food? Although she wondered if all of his relations went to the family gatherings. She couldn’t imagine Professor Storm in a cosy family gathering, and then there were his other relations… Johann hadn’t mentioned them, but that didn’t mean that they hadn’t been present in years past. She was sure, unfortunately, that Balfour would not appreciate her enquiring.

“Do you plan to make any resolutions?” The question was directed at both of them, and Alex added, “Balfour, you could resolve to stay out of trouble.” She smiled, aware that it was a resolution he would doubtless break before the end of February, if not January.

In spite of the time Balfour frequently spent around the faeces or massacred organs of various creatures, talk of haruspex was a rather odd feeling during the holidays. Oysters and champagne sounded more appetising. He listened to his lover and god daughter exchange... witticisms? It was difficult to tell, with Alex attempting a mixture of cattiness and manners, which didn't play well with Johann's well-meaning cheek. He suspected that they would not be the best of friends.

The Scotsman smirked at the idea of spilling another person's guts to divine the future. Knox would approve.

       "Do you plan to make any resolutions? Balfour, you could resolve to stay out of trouble."

Waking up from his thoughts, Bal blushed at this part reprimand and began to pull himself on to his feet. It was so good to be indoors, nice and warm, after he'd greeted Alex outside in the snow. Was he getting old? Possibly. "I resolve to drink less, swear less, and dance more!" he exclaimed dramatically before offering a hand for Johann to take.

There came a (sleepy, drunken) cheer of amusement from the other Spectres still lingering in the drawing room while he pulled the German wizard up and into a vaguely scandalous embrace.

Nathaira, at the gramophone, lifted the needle to play something worthy of a dance. Balfour kissed Johann's cheek and then assumed positions with hands clasping one another, and at the waist.

"Your next, Little Bean~" he called over his partner's shoulder as they spun out across the carpeted floors in a leisurely turn. Yes. This felt right. This was Christmas.