If the Fates Allow

Chapter 21

Blue Christmas

Today in the town of David

a Saviour has been born to you,

He is the Christ, the Lord.

(Luke 2:11)

Ginny was tossing and turning in her sleep, images chasing each other in her dream - Harry in pirate attire, the Hermione tumbling down into the precipice... the frog 'attacking' her and backing away from it... she joking about the 'eel', Harry countering that it wasn't funny at all... Harry kissing her, taking her to seventh heaven... her making a remark at Yoda being wrong about 'size matters not', then Aesculapius talking...

However, the Aesculapius in her dream was not only telling them they were healed and ought to leave, but he also looked directly into Ginny's eyes and said solemnly: 'Do you realise, my dear, that you have just conceived?'

Ginny shuddered, but did not wake up. 'It's impossible,' she said in her dream, 'I can't have a baby, I really can't...'

'Now you can,' Aesculapius replied, twirling his long white beard with a benign smile.

The dream-Ginny started to weep. 'What will my husband say? Not even Harry can help me now, he's dead...'

'No, he isn't dead, Virginia...' a new voice spoke up.

The dream-Ginny instantly knew that this voice wasn't that of the God of Healing... it was strangely familiar, though. Familiar, but she hadn't heard it for a long, long time...

'Who are you?' she asked.

'I'm Cedric, Ginny.'

'Cedric? Cedric Diggory?'

'That's right. I've come to tell you that your Harry isn't dead. He will return to you as soon as my job in helping my parents is done. When I can return to the Underworld and replace him on the Quidditch team of Elysium, he will be free to rejoin you. Until then, don't give up, Ginny. And don't forget he loves you. He loves you more than anything...'

The voice of Cedric was getting fainter by the second, and Ginny knew this must be because she was waking up...

'No, don't leave, Cedric! Tell me more!' her subconscious screamed, trying to hold onto the dream, but voices from outside her room were getting louder and louder, making it impossible for her to remain asleep.

Her eyes fluttered open as the squeaking of a house elf carried through her closed door. What was going on?

She rubbed her eyes and tried to remember the dream, but most of it was gone... except that part about Cedric. Without the shadow of a doubt this was the weirdest dream she had ever had: the dead Cedric Diggory had told her that Harry was alive, but playing Quidditch in the Underworld.

Nonsense.

It must have been the work of her overwrought mind, presenting her with the most unthinkable things... Harry - playing Quidditch - in the Underworld? Oh come on...

"Master, please, don't kick Blinky! Blinky didn't do anything wrong!" came a terrified yelp from outside and suddenly Ginny felt wide awake. Awake, and aware that the poor elf must be yelling at Draco... at a clearly mad and dangerous Draco...

And it suddenly hit Ginny why Draco was mad.

I'm pregnant. And he knows it's not his child but Harry's because he and I haven't slept together for... what, half a year? Oh Merlin, help me... In the next instant the door of her room practically burst open and young Malfoy, slightly staggering, dashed in.

"So!" he shouted at his wife, his eyes gleaming in a funny sort of way.

Ginny felt like answering 'so what?', but her voice seemed to have escaped somewhere and she couldn't utter a single word and just stared at her husband's face. She had seen Draco angry before, even livid, but now he was different... and it dawned on her why he was different.

"You're drunk..." she whispered as she found her voice.

"What if I am, eh?" Draco asked derisively, not even caring to close the door behind him. "Aren't I allowed to... have some fun, too? You seem to have had fun... with Potter. I'm entitled to have fun with... a bottle of... Firewhisky, aren't I?" He swung a half-empty bottle in his hand towards Ginny.

She instinctively slid lower under her covers.

"Afraid, aren't you?" said Draco with narrowed eyes.

"Why should I be afraid of a person who isn't accountable for his actions?" she said, trying to make her voice sound brave and nonchalant, but she didn't manage it and her voice wavered rather noticeably. Even the drunk Draco seemed to have noticed it.

"Playing the courageous little Gryffindor, eh?" he mocked, dropping the bottle of Firewhisky. It didn't break and rolled under her bed. "Soon you won't be this courageous! Now your mummy isn't here to protect you... she left last night... clearly to brag to your brothers that you were at last giving her a grandchild..." Draco's face contorted with disgust. "By now surely even the barman of the Leaky Cauldron knows it... I just hope... and you should hope too... that she had enough common sense not to... not to mention who the father of that little bastard is!"

"What'd you mean?" Ginny asked, her heart hammering in her throat.

"I mean, dear Virginia..." Draco leaned over her, so that she could clearly smell the Firewhisky on his breath. "...that the world mustn't know the real parentage of your..." He pointed at her stomach, as if searching for rude enough words to describe the child. "I've been thinking, you know..."

"Thinking? Rather you mean 'drinking', don't you?" she muttered, swallowing the lump in her throat and quickly looking around to see whether her wand was at hand, in case she needed to defend herself against her husband. However, the wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Thinking," Draco said, slumping down onto her bed, propping himself on his right hand that he had placed on the other side of Ginny's body, so that now she was sandwiched between his two arms, his face over hers, gazing down at her with a fierce expression. "To the world... this little bastard shall be a Malfoy... but only if it survives, of course..."

Ginny's eyes widened with fear. "If it survives?"

"Oh, yeah..." He nodded, the madness of a drunkard gleaming in his cold grey eyes, making them look enflamed with some twisted desire. "If the child has red hair... thus resembles you, people won't doubt that it's mine... it merely resembles its mummy..." He uttered the word 'mummy' in a voice mimicking that of a child. "However..."

Ginny already knew what was coming.

"If it has black hair..." Draco pulled his index finger in front of his throat, giving Ginny quite a good idea what to expect if her baby inherited Harry's looks. "Have I made myself clear, my dear?"

Clutching her covers so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Ginny nodded.

"Good." Draco slipped off her bed and dived under it for the bottle of whisky. "Oh, in case you're wondering where your wand is... I sent Bobby to collect it in the night. You aren't getting it back till the birth, in case you try to use it to... escape."

She gasped. "Am I a prisoner?"

"So to say, dear." Draco nodded and took a huge swig from the bottle. "I've placed alarm-charms on the front door, and on the back doors, too... so if you try and escape... they'll go off and I'll know it. I wouldn't try to escape if I was you... or a stray curse might hit you around here," he rubbed his abdomen with an evil smirk.

"You're crazy," she whispered.

"Crazy, d'you think so?" He laughed. "I don't think I am, sweetheart... any wizard in my place would do as I have... punish his wife for adultery."

"Adultery!" Ginny snapped, kneeling up in her bed. "As if you haven't fucked every second witch ever since we got married!"

"Just because you weren't giving me what they were!" he shouted back. "And I not only mean an heir, I mean... you've been a frigid ice queen, Virginia... true to your bloody name! You were so cold you could have frozen a penguin; I wonder what Potter saw in you... I hope he didn't have much delight in you, too."

A sarcastic little smile appeared on Ginny's face. "Just to inform you, Harry enjoyed every second with me in his arms... and I enjoyed it too. He managed to give me what you never could and never cared to give me! If you were half as good as him..."

"I'm a thousand times better than him!" howled Draco as his bottle-free hand hit her across the face with such force that she fell back onto the sheet and her mouth started to bleed.

"I hate you," she whispered, wiping blood off her lips.

For a moment Draco looked down at her, panting, then turned on his heels and ran out.

Draco was livid and both the alcohol and Ginny's last words were working in him, blurring his vision so much that he didn't even notice the house elf that had been eavesdropping on them.

He ran up to his own room and slammed the door shut, making a painting of Narcissa Malfoy fall to the floor, its glass-case shattering.

He leaned against the door for support, and slowly slid down into a squatting position, idly playing with the bottle.

I hate you...

He couldn't think clearly, given the effect of the whisky, but he pretty much understood what these three words meant.

As if you haven't fucked every second witch ever since we got married!

Oh, well, she had a point there...

His mind wandered off to someone whom he hadn't thought of for weeks... the last woman he had slept with. Phaedra.

She had been more willing than any of his previous whores, but wait... Phaedra had only done it out of pain, because she had just lost her husband...

Draco's free hand clenched into a fist.

Ginny hadn't wanted to give herself to him, because she loved Potter.

Phaedra willingly gave herself to him, but only because she loved Potter...

"Isn't there a fucking witch who loves me, not Potter?" he shouted and he chucked the whisky-bottle through the closed window.

Christmas, 2003

Virginia Malfoy gazed out onto the snow-covered plains surrounding Malfoy Manor. It was a bright and sunny, but piercingly cold day. Icicles were hanging from the roof, scattering the rays of the winter sun in all directions like crystals, making them glitter on the window-pane and shine into Ginny's room, painting the walls with all colours of the rainbow.

Ginny saw crows fighting in the air. In wintertime, the park was filled with these disgusting creatures that not only stained the whiteness of the snow, but also irritated the manor's inhabitants with their constant croaking. They were even considered a bad omen if they turned up somewhere.

Well, Ginny thought, her predicament couldn't get any worse, not even with a whole horde of crows circling around Malfoy Manor. Absentmindedly she slipped her hand to her still flat belly, gently caressing it. The embryo in there was too small to let its mother feel its moves, if it moved at all... yet Ginny tried to convey some sort of a message, a mental caress, hoping that her child could sense it. She wished she could assure the little one that everything was all right - at least as long as the baby was inside her, its features, especially its hair colour not yet definable. The little one surely didn't even have hair yet, Ginny thought with a small smile. Then, as Draco's words came to her mind, the smile vanished from her face and a lump rose in her throat. What if the baby looks like Harry? Draco will dispose of it, then...

Ginny shuddered. Why, oh why did this have to happen? And why now? True, she had always longed to become a mother, but the timing couldn't have been worse. Harry dead, Ginny's father still subject to The Fates Charm... Her child would be born about a month before her 'captivity' ended... if only she had got pregnant a month later, then she'd have a chance to break free from this damned marriage and give birth to her baby in peace, not having to fear that Draco would kill it, or that he'd kill her father if she fled.

She heaved a deep sigh at the thought of her father. She hadn't seen him, or any of her family-members since the mediwitch had announced her pregnancy to her husband. Draco had made it impossible for people to visit her and had also forbidden her to leave the manor. She knew there was no point in trying to escape, for she was endangering her own health and that of her unborn child if she tried. Then again, if the baby would be killed after birth, then did it matter at all whether it died now or later?

Ginny shook her head. I'm going mad for sure. What kind of a mother am I, thinking such things? Of course my baby will live, I'll protect him, no matter what Draco wants to do... if I have to defend my baby with my bare hands, I'll do so... if he tries to harm my little one, I'll... I'll kill him, I swear. No one will harm my son, no one!

Without even noticing, Ginny had always thought of her child as 'he', as though she had known it'd be a boy. She had tried to imagine the child on several occasions, but something deep down inside of her prevented her from forming a clear picture. Her subconscious was trying to hinder her in envisioning the baby, because in her subconscious she feared that it'd look like Harry... unruly black hair, green eyes and that cute, sometimes cocky, sometimes sheepish grin Harry used to wear...

No, surely her baby boy wouldn't look like Harry - would he? Ginny willed herself to imagine the baby with the Weasley looks, but she just couldn't. Whenever she envisioned a giggling child with flaming red hair, the image dissolved in some sort of a mist...

It was no use trying to imagine the baby at all, she concluded. If she didn't want to go mad before the birth she had to keep telling herself that nothing would go amiss and she'd have a chance to leave Draco with her child intact. If only it were already 20^th June, the day of independence! - she thought, but she knew that the nearer the child's birth drew, the more she'd be afraid of it. One half of her heart wished it was June already and the other half wished it could remain December forever, and that May with the child's birth would never arrive...

She got shaken out of her reverie by some clinking noise. She looked in the door's direction to see Blinky the house elf enter with a box full of silver crystal orbs. Two other elves were carrying a beautiful pine tree whose branches were still half-covered with snow.

"We have charmed it, mistress, so that the snow will never melt," announced Bobby the house elf.

"Thanks." Ginny nodded. "You may go now."

"But... mistress! Surely mistress doesn't want to decorate it on her own?" Bobby's huge eyes widened even more.

"Why not? I'm not an invalid, am I?" Ginny snapped at the elf, making it cringe. She was still mad at Bobby for having taken her wand, even if he'd done it on his master's orders.

"But... mistress! You are expecting!" squeaked Blinky.

"And? Surely my husband would be only too happy if I fell down from the ladder whilst decorating and miscarried, don't you think?" said Ginny sarcastically, quite sure that the elves were totally aware of the real parentage of her child-to-be-born.

"Don't talk like that, mistress!" the third elf called Wrinkly wailed, tears brimming his eyes.

Bobby nodded. "Please, mistress, don't talk like that!"

"Yeah, you should be happy, it's Christmas after all!" added Blinky. "What about a bit of music?"

"Great idea!" chimed in Bobby and hurried out, only to return a minute later with what looked like an old Muggle record-player.

"Since when do the Malfoys have Muggle stuff?" Ginny asked, surprised. She had never seen this record-player before.

"Since Mistress Narcissa got one from her Uncle Alphard," replied Bobby. "Though she never listened to it, but chucked it into the store-room."

Blinky had unearthed a disk from somewhere and put it on the record-player. The room immediately was filled with O Come All Ye Faithful.

The music managed to get Ginny's mind off other things, and she started to hang the silver baubles onto the pine's branches, humming the songs herself. The elves kept passing her the baubles, so that she didn't need to bend down for each piece. She knew they could have found better things to do than to help her, thus she found their caring truly touching. Little Bobby seemed the most enthusiastic in helping her - as Ginny suspected - to make up for the nicked wand.

She was attaching a sparkly silver star to a branch, humming the next song...

Through the years
We all will be together
If the Fates allow...

Crash.

The three elves turned in her direction to see her gazing at the snow-covered branch, tears running down her face. The crystal star lay by her feet, shattered into a thousand pieces. The record-player kept playing:

Hang a shining star
On the highest bough,
And have yourself
A merry little Christmas now

"M... mistress?" Blinky muttered, tugging at Ginny's skirt.

"We all will be together... if the Fates allow..." whispered Ginny. "The Fates didn't allow."

"Mistress?" Bobby spoke up in a worried voice. "Are you... are you feeling all right?"

Instead of replying, Ginny slowly sank to the floor into a crouching position and bent her head over her knees, the curtain of her vivid red hair concealing her face from the elves. However, from the shaking of her body the elves knew well enough that she was crying.

The three elves exchanged a meaningful look and without a word they went to close their weeping mistress into their arms. Ginny looked up a bit, her teary eyes darting from Blinky to Bobby to Wrinkly, and seeing the compassion in their bulging, tennis-ball-like eyes, her mouth tucked into a grateful little smile. She reached out and pulled the three elves even closer to herself.

* * * * *

"Blimey," Fred said, dropping his fork back onto his plate before he had even touched the meal. "I can't eat. Sorry Mum, I'm sure it's delicious, but..."

"Don't apologise, Fred," Molly sighed, putting down her knife. "I can't swallow a single chunk, either. My poor, poor Ginny..."

Arthur reached out to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she sobbed into her handkerchief.

Ron and George exchanged a sour look and put down their forks.

Hermione shot Ron a rather nasty look that said 'Christmas dinner is more important for you than your sister?'

Ron heaved a sigh and propped his chin into his hand, gazing at the tablecloth on which Father Christmas's sledge, pulled by his reindeer, was doing circles.

"What about breaking into Malfoy Manor?" he said finally.

"Don't be an idiot, Ron," Percy said superciliously. Penelope, who was next to him, nodded eagerly. "You know that Malfoy must have used all sorts of Dark Arts to keep unwanted visitors out. Not even our owls managed to penetrate those barriers. Surely you don't want to end up cut into four pieces, do you?"

"Okay, okay, it was just an idea," Ron grunted, feeling like flattening the stupidly grinning Father Christmas with his plate. Unfortunately the picture was 2D, so getting smashed by a plate wouldn't have made it any flatter.

Silence ensued at the Weasleys' dinner table, only broken by Molly's renewed sobs.

"I seriously don't understand you," Percy spoke up. Everyone glared at him, even his mother stopped crying. "I mean... I'm sorry for Ginny too, Malfoy's a horrible man, but Ginny asked for trouble... had she been able to control her raging hormones, then she wouldn't have got into this predicament, and..."

"Perce, do us a favour and shut up," George growled.

"Anyway, Ginny thought she was barren when she slept with Harry, so you can't say she was irresponsible," Ron interjected.

"Perhaps not irresponsible, but definitely immoral," Percy replied. "Whether she loves Malfoy or not, he is still her lawfully wedded husband, and has every right to demand unconditional fidelity from his wife..."

"Unconditional fidelity, my ass," muttered Fred while Penelope sulked, not wanting to look at her husband.

Mrs Weasley, who had always chastised her children for using swear words, sniffed and nodded. "For once I have to agree with you, Fred, dear."

"Wow." Ron's eyes widened. "Does this mean I'm not getting my annual telling-off today for not having married Hermione yet?"

"Well, now that you remind me, it'd be nice if you two legalised your relationship at last," said Molly. Hermione shot Ron a 'next time rethink it three times before you open your big mouth' look. Ron sent her an apologising stare.

"I suppose," Hermione said quietly, "that magic can't help Ginny now. We can't go to the Magical Law Enforcement either, because Malfoy would surely talk himself out of the charge of keeping his wife locked up... I think the only thing that could still help her is a prayer."

Molly's eyes filled with tears again as Hermione joined her hands.

"Our Lord, you look down at us from heaven and hear all our words... please, listen to us today. Ginny is in great trouble, and we cannot help her. You, who sent us your Son to deliver us from our sins, please, help her to deliver her child unharmed and save her from her husband..."

"...yeah, and if you have the time, teach that bastard Malfoy a lesson, will you?" added George.

"George!" snapped Mrs Weasley.

* * * * *

"This one too, Daddy!" shouted Daphne, swinging a huge pink orb in her hand. Harry reached down for it and hung it on the Christmas tree.

"Well, it's ready, I think," he said, stepping back a bit to admire his work. "Not bad at all..."

"Too bad Christmas spirits never really come here," said Sirius, pointing out the window at the green meadows. At Elysium it was spring forever, the trees never shed their leaves and snow was totally unknown.

"As long as Christmas is there in your heart, you don't need snow and cold to feel the spirit of the holidays," a familiar male voice spoke up. "I hope we're not disturbing."

Harry looked at the door where two figures had appeared: Albus Dumbledore followed by Linda.

Harry's stomach gave a jolt. He hadn't met Linda ever since that ominous day back in September. She had tactfully avoided him, knowing that her presence would make him feel uneasy.

"Of course not." beamed James. "Come in, come in, and make yourself at home. Happy Christmas!"

Soon little Daphne got tired and Lily put her to bed, while the adults engaged in an animated conversation about the Christmases of old times.

"And remember when Padfoot made Snivellus wear that Father Christmas outfit?" James said between two laughs. "The greasy old git couldn't get rid of the beard and the furry red cap with the pompom that kept shouting Ho-ho-ho!"

The one-time Marauders and Albus were having fun, but Harry felt bad about listening to stories about his father and godfather being nasty to Snape, and he could see it in his mother's eyes that Lily didn't approve of it either.

When Sirius embarked on a tale about him and James dropping a dozen dung bombs on Lucius and Narcissa, who happened to be snogging behind the greenhouses, Harry decided he needed some fresh air.

The cool night breeze fondled his face as he wandered through the dewy grass. "Christmas, eh?" he whispered to himself sarcastically. Not that he didn't enjoy spending the holidays with his parents, but he longed to be back in the normal world, longed to know that Ginny was all right, longed to share jokes with Ron and Hermione... it hit him how much he had missed his two best friends during his five years of hiding. For a fleeting moment even Phaedra crossed his mind; he wondered how she could be feeling right now, having to celebrate Christmas without her husband and daughter. Then it occurred to him that his daughter had never even seen a 'proper' Christmas with snow before, because Greece had been too warm for that.

With a sudden thought he pulled his wand out of his pocket and made a jab at a nearby tree. In the next instant the tree's branches were covered with beautiful, sparkling snow.

"Excellent," he muttered, pointing his wand at a bush this time. In ten minutes the landscape around the Potters' house didn't resemble Elysium at all, but a perfect Christmas card.

"You forgot to hang a holly-wreath on the door," a voice spoke up behind him.

"Oh. Hi," he replied, without turning around to look at Linda.

"Nice job, by the way. Daffy will love it."

"That's why I did it." Harry shrugged.

"You're a wonderful father, do you know that?"

Harry made a grimace. "I don't think I am. Had I been a good father, then I would have let Amrita die rather than letting Voldemort bring her up."

"You did what you thought was all right back then," she replied. "I thought we talked this over, didn't we?"

"Yeah, we did." He hung his head. "But I can't help it; it keeps resurfacing and nagging me... especially on holidays like this. Can you imagine how our daughter could be spending Christmas? I doubt if she ever got a present from anyone, not even a knobbly pair of socks or a torn tissue..." Picture after picture flashed into his mind, Uncle Vernon tossing his ugly mustard-coloured socks at him, getting a curt note from the Dursleys with only a toothpick attached to it. Linda, you don't understand anything. At least I got something from the Dursleys, but what could Voldemort give her? Perhaps he's doing that bloody ritual on her right now! Her life's a hell, don't you understand?

*Yes, I do* came the answer.

Harry shuddered and looked back at her. "What was that?"

"You addressed me in thought and I responded," she replied.

"But... I didn't mean to address you, I just..."

"But you did address me," Linda reminded him. "You thought of my name, and I heard all that came after it."

"Whoa. I'll have to be careful what I think of then," he said. "And you should cut back on the eavesdropping."

"I wasn't eavesdropping!" she pointed out.

"Yes, you were!"

"I wasn't!"

"Yes, you w..." Harry couldn't finish the sentence, for a snowball mysteriously hit him across the face. "Hey, you little..."

"Bet you can't hit me!" she laughed as Harry started gathering some snow from a nearby bush.

"Bet I can..."

She ducked his snowball, squealing with laughter. It had always been hard for him to imagine it that this girl was Voldemort's daughter, but it had never been harder to imagine than now. Harry grinned at the thought of Voldemort himself pelting Wormtail with snowballs... Nah. Even a vivid imagination had its limits.

"What's going on here?" Sirius's head appeared in the doorframe only to get a huge snowball into his left eye. "Hey, that was below the belt!"

"Was it?" shouted Linda. "Then come and return the favour!"

"Bloody well I will!" yelped Sirius and burst out of the house, followed by James and Lily, Dumbledore bringing up the rear.

Soon all six of them were engaged in a furious snowball-fight, waking little Daphne up from her sleep.

She stumbled out of the house and had to rub her eyes to make sure she wasn't still dreaming.

Six adults... playing like little children. Evil, evil adults! They had put her to bed while they went to play! Daffy decided that she was really mad at her family.

* * * * *

Amrita was gazing out the window, her chin propped in her palms. She couldn't sleep; she just couldn't. The sky outside was pitch black, only the dancing snowflakes made it seem brighter. She shivered - her room hadn't been heated properly. Wormtail had come in the afternoon and cast Incendio at the fireplace, but his magic had long worn off and the little girl felt cold. She pulled her checked quilt tighter around her body and clutched her old vampire doll to herself. This doll was her only toy, she had got it a long time ago - it seemed to her as though she had always had it. She suspected that it must have come from Peter, for no one else ever bothered to give her anything.

She knew it was some holiday called Christmas right now, but she simply didn't know what it was like - she had heard Goyle and Macnair mention it on a couple of occasions, but she didn't really know what the word 'Christmas' meant. Two or three days earlier Macnair had brought his little son along with him, and Amrita had eavesdropped on the boy chattering about the presents he'd get for Christmas. Actually it had been the first ever time Amrita had seen a child of her own age, given that she had always been locked up in the Death Eater Headquarters (or what exactly did Grandpa Voldemort call the place?).

Amrita longed to go outside and walk around in the snow - she had done it only once before, under the supervision of that terrible woman whom she was supposed to address as Lady Lestrange. She had always wondered why that hag had demanded to be called 'lady' because, to Amrita she rather seemed a rude old wench.

"Daddy," she whispered, lifting her eyes to the sky. "Can you hear me? I know you're dead now, Wormie told me so, that's why I think you could perhaps see me from above... Yes, I'm sure you're in heaven now, not in hell. You know I think Grandpa would perfectly fit in hell, but you surely got to be in heaven... And you're together with Mummy, right? Wormie once told me that my Mummy was looking down at me from heaven and taking care of me... does this mean that you too are taking care of me from above, Daddy? If so, could you take me away from Grandpa? Pretty please? I promise I'll be a very good girl, I won't ever talk back, I won't be choosy and I'll eat everything, I... I promise whatever you want, just take me away from here!"

Had Harry heard this, his heart would have bled for sure...

As did Wormtail's, who had just been about to bring Amrita a cup of hot cocoa and overheard her when he opened the door.

Instead of entering the room with the cup, he closed the door as silently as possible and tiptoed away.

Half an hour later, the little girl decided to get into bed, hoping that the Dream Fairy would come soon. Pulling her vampire doll to herself, she closed her eyes but before she could truly fall asleep, there came some sort of a noise from the direction of the fireplace.

Surely a boggart, or a troll, or a banshee! - she thought, hastily pulling the covers up to her eyes, peering at the fireplace in a possibly unnoticeable-to-the-monster way.

However, what she saw as the greenish smoke thinned was a man dressed in red clothes with white trimming. The figure had long, white beard and was carrying a red sack over his shoulder. It didn't look dangerous at all.

"You're not a boggart, are you?" Amrita asked, feeling heartened all of a sudden.

The man-in-red jumped. "Oh... you are awake? Er... no. I'm no boggart. I'm... I'm Father Christmas, see..."

"Father Christmas?" The girl knitted her eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh... haven't you heard of me yet?" Father Christmas asked.

"Not really. Actually... I don't even know what Christmas is." Amrita shrugged.

"Well then... let me tell you a story about a little boy who was born over 2000 years ago, in the far town of Bethlehem..."

Amrita listened to the story about Jesus' birth with her mouth agape.

"Was the boy really God's Son?" she asked.

"Yeah." Father Christmas nodded. "And since God presented the world with his Son, we have this custom of giving each other presents at Christmas. And that's my task to bring the good little children presents."

"And how have you come here? Through the fireplace?"

"Well..." Father Christmas nervously tugged at his beard and it almost fell off. He hastily readjusted it, hoping that the child hadn't noticed. "I came through the chimney. See, I travel around the world on Christmas Eve and bring every good little kid a present. I use a sledge with eight reindeer."

"Reindeer?" Her eyes widened. "Can I see them? Where are they?"

"Well, I have parked my sledge on the rooftop, of course. They are waiting for me there. So, I have to give you my present now and go, because I've got to bring presents to millions of other children."

"How do you have enough time to reach every child in just one night?" asked the girl seriously.

"Well... I'm using the Time Freezing charm, you know. Everything outside the house I'm currently visiting is frozen in time. But shhhh... don't tell anyone! This is our little secret!"

"I won't." Amrita nodded solemnly. "Can I have my present now?"

"Oh, yeah, the present." Father Christmas bent down to search for it in his sack, and his pompom-hat almost fell off his balding head. He caught it in the last second and pulled it down to his eyebrows. "Here it is." He fished something out of the sack and handed it to the little girl. "But promise me you won't show it to anyone, especially not your grandfather."

Amrita opened the package and let out a small squeal. It was a female vampire doll. "Now at least my Draky will have a mate! I've always wanted him to have a wife, he was so lonely... I promise I won't show it to Grandpa, but... may I show it to Wormie, pleeeeeease? He'll love it and he won't tell on me!"

"Do you er... trust this... Wormie?"

"Oh, he's my bestest friend in the world!" Amrita said enthusiastically.

For a second Father Christmas' eyes seemed to be watering, then he nodded and turned away to blow his nose.

"Do you have a cold, Father Christmas?" Amrita enquired. "If yes, then we could ask Wormie to make you a hot cocoa, it will help. You could take some to your reindeer, too."

"Oh, no, thanks... I've got to go, dear. Happy Christmas!"

"You too! Thanks for the doll!" Amrita waved at the red-clad man, who threw something into the fireplace and disappeared. Amrita, who had never seen Floo powder before, had no idea what it was. The inhabitants of the 'Death Eater Headquarters' had always come through her door, after all.

"See, Draky, you've got a matey now. We'll call her Morticia, shall we?" she told Dracula, her vampire doll. Clutching both vampire dolls, she slumped back into her pillow. "You know Draky and Morty, I love Wormie. Even though beard and red things don't suit him well..." With that she fell asleep, dreaming about shining angels singing above a little boy lying in a manger.