All is Calm, All is Bright

Pansy Parkinson insisted on doing her Christmas shopping in CordiAlley. She couldn't even understand why anyone with any means at their disposal would choose to shop anyplace else. And so what if there was a war on? She doubted any shopping district would be much more dangerous than another. And with the Portkeys that Sir Tagnan's, Melinda Mae's and Copper Cauldron had in their stores for emergency evacuation to their Paris and Milan locations; well, Pansy could not have thought herself safer.

And so she waited at her favorite table in the Haught and Aristo Wine Boutique and Tasting Shop sipping a wonderful concoction of spiced wine from Germany. Her two friends would be arriving any moment. Pansy looked out of the frost covered window at the street before her. It disturbed her greatly that it was beginning to look normal; that the trappings of a holiday in war time were fading into the landscape as though they had always been there. If she let her eyes go just out of focus, the whole place could look completely unaffected.

Families skirted about in the icy street, careful to keep their little ones close by. Ministerial Guardsmen patrolled each intersection, wands at the ready; their smart looking red and blue uniforms making them look quite the part of the Nutcracker Prince against the backdrop of Christmas trees, glass balls, and colored lights. The smartly dressed ladies darted in and out of shop after shop, heaping parcels on unsuspecting beaux or bodyguards that they had brought along for just that purpose. A few young couples sidled up to each other in the street, undoubtedly celebrating a final holiday together before one or both went off to battle.

The amber glow of the lights in the shop windows twinkled through the ice crystals that had formed on them. The lamp posts were wrapped in garland and lights, the decorations almost completely obscuring the Ministry's morale and recruiting posters that had hung there for so long. Notices were still posted, of course; on the message boards at the end of the street, and in many of the shops as well. Handbills were everywhere advertising everything from home security seminars, to the Ministry's approval of apparition lessons for a family's eldest child, even as young as twelve, to help facilitate a successful escape should one's home be in the line of fire. There were propaganda flyers which had been enchanted to read: "Plan a place, Place a plan, get out together if you can," to encourage families to know where they would plan to evacuate and a recruitment ad for the Ministerial Guard, in turn over and over. These bills turned Pansy's stomach. Why did they have to distribute these at Christmas time?

It did at least comfort Pansy a little that, although the propaganda of war had reached CordiAlley, the destruction seemed not to have. There was not one shop that had taken any identifiable battle damage. There was not even a single cracked or broken window to be seen. Things were more proper here, more formal, more exclusive; and battle scars had yet to rear their ugly heads. This pretty corner of the world seemed to be the last bastion of the way things had been just two Christmases ago.

Pansy smiled to think about that. Two Christmases ago the world was a simpler place, a happier place, where more was possible and happiness was present in the Slytherin common room. She relished her memories of two Christmases ago, of her sixth year at Hogwarts, more than any others. That was the year she had fallen in love. That was the last Christmas before the war had gotten personal. That was the last time Pansy could remember feeling normal; feeling like this pesky war had nothing to do with her or with anyone she cared about. Pansy sipped at the hot wine in her mug and stared out the window, her eyes glazing over as she tried to imagine away the soldiers and the handbills, trying to imagine CordiAlley out of the war altogether.

Pansy was yanked out if her nostalgia and dreamy malaise by the entrance of her two giggling friends. She hopped up out of her seat and scurried over to hug both of them.

"Sit and have a glass of wine?" Pansy invited the other two girls, "or should we get started?"

"Let's get started," the curly-headed blonde answered. "If I'm not back in three hours I'm afraid Roger will have called out a Regiment to go after me." She pulled a stray lock of hair behind her ear, allowing Pansy a view of a diamond ring she had not seen before on her friend's left hand.

"Ashleigh!" Pansy exclaimed, pulling the ring close to get a better look. Ashleigh bounced up and down a little, her head nodding and a gigantic smile on her face.

"Yes! I know, isn't it wonderful?" Ashleigh was beaming. Ashleigh Mitton had always fancied herself a frustrated artist. After Hogwarts, she had gone to work for the Ministry of Magic in their Morale and Information office. She had been assigned to bring a cadre of young officer candidates through the Home Office of the Wizards Wireless Network, and that was where she had met Roger Davies.

"You're marrying a Hufflepuff," the shorter girl with the light brown hair reminded her friend.

"I'm marrying a Sergeant Major," Ashleigh corrected her. Roger's rank in the Ministerial Guard was something of a source of pride for Ashleigh. "He was wounded," she told the other two. "In the battle of Lieges, boulder fell, broke both of his legs below the knee. And he arrived at St. Mungo's with this in his pocket!" She held out the ring again so her friends could examine it. Pansy couldn't help but notice it was a paltry little diamond, Roger likely could have afforded more on an Officer's salary, but she dared not comment. Ashleigh seemed totally enamored with her little ring and Pansy would truly have traded everything she had to have one of her own. "And anyway, Liese," Ashleigh turned to the brown haired girl, "how are things with you and Bertie?" Liese swatted Ashleigh's ring hand and made a clacking sound with her tongue.

"You know he has a name," Liese insisted. Liese Lagergren had, in her fourth year at Hogwarts, discovered a sincere love for the game of Quidditch, and soon after she also discovered that she lacked any talent for the game at all. After leaving school, she had gone to work in the procurement office for the Chudley Cannons and had gained somewhat of a reputation for having a different player on her arm each time she appeared in public. This had caused no end of ribbing from her girlfriends, who had begun to refer to any man she might be seen with as "Bertie" in honor of Bertie Bott, saying that she had a different flavor of man for every day.

"Is this the same one?" Pansy asked, leading the three out of the wine seller's and on to the snow covered street.

"His name is Trevor," Liese injected. "And, yes, he's the same Trevor that I have been going out with for almost eleven months."

"Well, that's a record," Ashleigh joked, pulling the hood of her robes up around her ears.

"I like him," Liese asserted. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a large carriage bearing Ministerial Insignia and flying Military colors came thundering down the street, its four enormous horses at a full gallop. The three girls ducked into the nearest shop in order to avoid being run down by whoever it was.

"Oh, I hate that!" Pansy decried. "Why can't they leave the shopping districts alone?"

"Because the enemy won't," Ashley meekly replied. She was doing well at her part of being an Officer's Wife; ever the dutiful patriot. Pansy shrugged her shoulders in half hearted agreement and turned to look around the store. They were in the original Sugarbetters shop, and it was busting at the seams with patrons.

"Afternoon, ladies!" called an aging gentleman from behind the counter. He had tufts of gray hair over his ears and looked as though he'd likely spent the morning in the back room of the shop with a jug of something illegal. His cheeks were red and round, as was the end of his nose, and his smile seemed to be permanently affixed to his lips. "What can I help you with this chilly afternoon?" The three of them looked up at the gentleman. "Our special today is Everlasting Everlongs, perfect gift for soldiers in the field." The gray haired man turned to Pansy, "Is your sweetheart off to war?" he asked. Pansy felt her eyes begin to fill.

"Nobody knows where Draco is," she answered quietly. The candy seller recoiled a little and frowned at her. Pansy had forgotten again. She could let down her guard with her school friends, but she had to remember that the name of Draco Malfoy was not spoken in polite company. The older gentleman turned his attention to Ashleigh, who had become very intent at staring in to a display case, hoping to avoid a scene.

"How 'bout you, dearie?" the old gentleman asked her. "Is your sweetheart in the Guard?"

"He's a Sergeant Major," Ashleigh answered, a reserved but proud smile crossed her face.

"Then I promise you," the man said to her, "you'll want the Everlasting Everlongs."

"What are they?" Liese chimed in, stepping between Pansy and the candy case in order to further protect her friend from the whispers and stares that had started to make their way along the row of shopkeepers behind the counter.

"The Everlasting Everlong," the old man seemed to be going into a wild and fantastic sales pitch, "is the newest thing in renewable candy from the folks who brought you the Sugarbetter flower. Once opened and allowed to mingle with oxygen, the Everlasting Everlong will reproduce itself in the box. As long as one of these tiny chocolates remains, the box will always refill itself."

"Why, that's splendid!" Ashleigh decried. "Yes, I'll take two boxes; and a giant bundle of the extra strength Sugarbetters as well."

"Excellent!" declared the candy seller. "Just come with me to the back counter and we'll settle up then."

"I think I'll get Trevor some chocolate cauldrons while we're here," Liese said to the other two, "he really likes chocolate, and here they sell the kind with the fantasy potion in the center." They began to head for the back counter and the till where they would need to settle up with the shopkeeper. Pansy could suddenly tell that she was being stared at.

"You two go ahead," Pansy told her friends. "I think I'll wait by the door." The two girls looked back at her with understanding nods.

"We'll be right back," Ashleigh assured Pansy, squeezing her hand.

"I'll be right here," Pansy answered as she turned and walked another few steps away from the counter and toward the door. She became distracted by a giant scroll of parchment hanging from the wall just inside the door. It looked as though it were old enough to have been present at the shop's opening day party.

Introducing the better flower, The Sugarbetter flower!

A beautiful Bouquet for your get well display!

And a Surprise inside that lasts day after day!

Give them to any friend who's sick

And watch our potions working, quick!

Each petal on each blossom bright

Will help them with their wounds to fight.

These pretty blossoms, you'll discover,

Will grow until your friend recovers.

And after all is well and good,

They'll run out like all candy would.

See them, eat them, feel their power...

Sugarbetters- the better flower!

Available exclusively at this shop!!!

Pansy, of course, knew what a Sugarbetter flower was; Draco had been given a bundle of them in sixth year when Harry Potter had sent him to the hospital wing with that blasted "Sectumsempra" curse. She wondered about Draco. She had seen a sword in the window of Sir Tagnan's that she had thought of buying for him. It was an antique General's sword and supposedly had a core of dragon's heart string and some amazing magical properties that the seller hadn't even explored. This would be the second Christmas she would ship some beautiful and thoughtful gift to Malfoy Manor without knowing whether or not the man it was intended for would ever see it. Pansy leaned against the door frame to wait for her friends.

It was suddenly very silent. The room felt as though all of the air had instantly gone out of it. Pansy turned abruptly to see if the others in the store were experiencing the same dismay. The next thing Pansy knew was the loudest noise she had ever heard.

And then nothing.

The Daily Prophet would report that the bombs in CordiAlley had been placed there by Voldemort's forces in order to disrupt the Wizarding economy and ruin the morale of the Christmas season. The Quibbler would print concurrently that the explosions were the result of the Ministerial Guard's suspicion of a Death Eaters' stronghold and armory secreted in the vicinity of CordiAlley. Both papers would print the list of the identified dead, Pansy Parkinson's name printed neatly under the letter "P". In what was to be their final edition, The Quibbler would run a story pointing out the fact that no members of the Ministerial Guard were injured or killed in the attack, and that was further proof of the fact that it was Ministerial forces, and not Death Eaters who were responsible for the bombings. Caledon Lovegood and his entire editorial staff would be charged with high treason for that story, and summarily executed in Azakban.

They would be finding bodies for the next two years.

The shops in CordiAlley would not be open for another Christmas.