unforeseen [h.p.]

PLIGHT OF THE PATRONUS

'Twas the night before Christmas, and those of the Johnson's Residence were struggling to make homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Alex had told Amelia about the orphanage's tradition of baking cookies on Christmas Eve and leaving some out for Father Christmas to enjoy. It was quite childish, but it was a tradition close to Alex's heart. Christmas seemed to be the only time where all the orphans seemed to be genuinely happy despite all that had happened to them. It was something Alex was sad to let go of, and she confided in this to Amelia.

Amelia wanted Alex's first Christmas with them to be one she'll remember. So, after dinner on Christmas Eve Amelia, being Amelia, announced that they would be making chocolate chip cookies to leave out for Father Christmas.

Mark wasn't aware of Alex's orphanage tradition, and was completely confused by Amelia's statement. "Father Christmas isn't real."

"Non-believers don't get cookies," Amelia replied. Mark simply rolled his eyes; Amelia always did weird things like this.

So here the three of them were: in the kitchen of the Johnson's Residence, failing horribly at making cookies. Mark was miserable at doing anything domestic without magic, and Amelia, who didn't have magic to help her anyway, was struggling to mix the ingredients into a consistent dough.

"I usually just buy the dough pre-made," she confessed sheepishly.

The floor was sprinkled in a fine dust of white flour. Alex's hands were covered in sugar and melted chocolate, making them warm and sticky. She couldn't help but laugh. This had gone horribly wrong.

Amelia was practically fighting with the cookie dough, roughly churning her wooden spoon. Alex giggled, popping an index finger in her mouth to taste the sugary chocolate.

"You know what? Mark—"

"Say no more," said Mark, whipping out his wand. With a quick wave, the dough had become consistent, and Alex watched as it separated itself into smaller chunks, placed itself on the cookie sheet, and flew into the already hot oven.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "I just wanted you to fix the dough."

They sat together in the living room, enjoying chewy, chocolatey cookies and basking in the warmth from the fire. Under the Christmas tree were several decoratively wrapped presents. Alex listened avidly to Mark as he told stories of his time at Hogwarts, whilst Amelia rolled her eyes every now and then. Alex didn't think she could be happier than right now.

It had become quite late. "We'd best head to bed," said Amelia. "Father Christmas won't pop by if we're all still awake."

"Of course," Alex giggled. Amelia kept promising that there was one more gift for Alex that wasn't yet under the tree, and that Father Christmas would be bringing it tonight. Alex knew Father Christmas wasn't actually real, but she played along anyway.

With that, Amelia and Mark retreated to their room, and Alex to hers. She was excited for what tomorrow morning had in store. Several of the gifts her friends bought her arrived in the mail earlier this morning, resulting in a parliament of post owls. They didn't seem happy at all the gifts Alex made them deliver in return. Amelia, to Mark's chagrin, paid them extra for their efforts.

Alex changed into the Christmas themed pajamas Amelia had got for her (patterned with candy canes and Christmas trees) and tucked herself into bed, thinking about the list she wrote a few days ago. It wasn't even officially Christmas yet, but this was the best one she's ever had. Did she really want to ruin it by asking about her dead parents?

The nightmares she was plagued with that night reassured her on her decision.

***