Chapter Text
SIMON
To Simon
Best wishes,
The Mage
The label has green glittery Christmas trees on one side and it's tied around a box the size of my palm wrapped in silver paper. It was on my desk when I came back from dinner half an hour ago and I've been sitting on my bed holding it ever since.
A Christmas present.
For me.
From The Mage.
The Mage has never given me a Christmas present. Or a birthday present or any kind of present. I mean, unless you count the Sword of Mages and my place at Watford, but those weren’t gift wrapped.
I don't get a lot of Christmas presents at all. Penny usually gives me a book she thinks I should read. Agatha always gives me clothes, fashionable stuff that makes me feel like she’s playing build-a-boyfriend, and her parents give me warm sweaters and coats like they’re taking the orphan thing in a strictly Dickensian sense. I never get presents from anyone else. A present from the Mage is the first present I've ever got in my whole life that kind of feels like it's from… family?
I know it's not really from family, but it gives me a warm feeling to pretend it is, and I want to hold onto that for as long as possible so I don't rip the paper off. I just sit there, turning it over in my hands, letting the silver wrapping catch the light, trying to imagine what might be in it.
Maybe it’s a watch. Like a pocket watch family heirloom - I am his heir. Or a pair of cufflinks like the fancy ones Baz keeps in his sock drawer. Or a new phone so I can stay in touch with him more. A bottle of aftershave? I wouldn't care if it was socks, I'd still be thrilled. It really is the thought that counts apparently.
I set it on my desk. But it's too special to sit among the clutter of pens and chocolate wrappers so I move it to the chest of drawers. But that's not special enough either. It looks like a present in a shop window, something in a Christmas display. It needs a tree to sit under and fairy lights.
But there’ll be no tree to set it under this year. Agatha just told me I can't come to hers. Fair enough, we just broke up, but still, I've been feeling pretty crappy about it.
Christmas isn't my favourite holiday at the best of times. There's nothing like family get-togethers for kicking you in the gut with the fact that you have no family. Spending it with the Wellbeloves is nice, but it’s a bit like watching a Christmas movie on TV: it looks great but you’re only an observer, it’s not yours. And this year is shaping up to be the worst yet since apparently even they don't want me. ‘I think we both know how uncomfortable that would be. It would ruin Christmas.’ Thanks Agatha. Always nice to be told your very presence is incompatible with other people’s happiness.
But the Mage must have heard I'll be here by myself this year. Baz thinks he uses me like some sort of guard dog but he’s wrong, the Mage cares about me. The gift is proof of that.
I smile at my reflection in the shiny paper. It would have disappeared among the heaps of presents under the Wellbeloves’ tree anyway. I wish there was a tree at Watford but there isn’t because everyone goes home for Christmas.
Unless…
I draw my wand and chew my lip. I should get Penny to do this. Because I’ll aim for a neat little spruce and next thing you know the Black Forest will have flattened the school.
But think how impressed the Mage would be if he turned up on Christmas morning to open gifts with me and I'd conjured up a tree! Already, in my head, this is what’s going to happen – the two of us having snowball fights and crisp winter walks and D&Ms while a soundtrack of Christmas hits plays in the background. It’s been snowing nonstop all day so technically it’s possible.
I'm in such a good mood I decide I can handle a little interior decor so I raise my wand and point it at the corner of the room. But I point it at the corner on Baz’s side, just in case. It’s not that I’d deliberately destroy his stuff, it’s just that, if I make a mess on his side, he’ll magickally clean it up, whereas, if I do it on mine, he’ll enjoy watching me make it worse as I try to fix it.
I close my eyes, concentrate, and cast Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. It’s a song on Mrs Wellbelove’s favourite Christmas CD and I’ve always quite liked it because it’s sad, and there aren’t a lot of sad Christmas songs. Which makes no sense considering there are an awful lot of sad people at Christmas.
I can hardly bear to look, but there's no screaming so after a few seconds, I open one eye slowly.
In the corner, a five foot fir tree is twinkling merrily, bedecked in tinsel and fairy lights and glittering baubles. It smells of pine and it has strings of popcorn and a small toy train chugging its way around the base on a red track through cotton wool snow. Beside it, there’s a steaming mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows. There are candy canes and gingerbread men and a Santa hat and pair of ice skates and a snow globe and a little music box playing the song I just cast. It’s the most perfect Christmas imaginable. And the most perfect magic I’ve ever done. The angel on top of the tree even looks a bit like Baz with wings, which will annoy him no end.
I nestle my present among the fake snow around the base, where it looks just right, then grab the hot chocolate and go to meet Penny in the library, whistling all the way.
BAZ
When I get back from the catacombs, there's a Christmas tree in our room. There’s some sort of Christmas full-frontal assault in our room. On my side of the room. Taking up one entire corner. The little train running around the bottom toots at me.
Crowley, that is tragic. Not only has Snow been abandoned by everyone in his life at the most depressing time of year, he's trying to compensate by creating his own sad little Christmas, and he's learned what Christmas looks like by watching cheesy Hallmark movies because he’s never had one of his own. I could weep.
What's worse is, he'd rather have this lonely little orphan-fest than come to Hampshire with me. I was kind of hurt that he said no to be honest. Okay my father wants to kill him and the Mage would kill him for coming anywhere near us and my house is full of ghosts who could probably kill him and I'm a vampire who’s spent the last eight years trying to kill him, but still. Christmas. Maybe I've seen too many Hallmark movies myself.
I grab my leather trunk and start packing for leaving in the morning.
SIMON
‘From the Mage?’ Penny is incredulous.
‘Yep.’
‘What is it?’
‘I can’t open it yet! It’s for Christmas.’
‘But… aren’t you curious?’
‘Of course. That’s how presents work, Penny. Most people don’t thrust their present at you and say, This is Jane Austen, I can’t believe you’ve got to the age of eighteen without reading one of the greatest mages of the regency period.’
She only tuts. ‘Yeah, but… from the Mage? I mean, it’s not going to be chocolate or bath salts, is it?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s the Mage. He only gives you stuff when he wants you to kill something with it. Or to toughen you up. Or train you to use your magic better. He only talks to you when he wants stuff like that.’
‘That’s not true,’ I say, even though it basically is. ‘It’s Christmas. He’s being nice.’
‘Nice.’ Penny chews the word over. ‘The Mage? Hmm. Are you sure it’s not a curse he’s wrapped up to see if you can break it?’
‘Shut up, he wouldn’t do that.’ Then I wag my head. ‘I mean, he would, but probably not at Christmas.’
She opens her mouth to argue but I clamp a hand over her lips. ‘Penny! He did something nice for me. Something nice happened to me. Could you let me just have this one please?’
She looks dubious but drops it.
When I get back to our room, Baz is back. He’s packing (which always puts him in a foul temper because it creases his shirts) but even he can’t ruin my good mood. I throw myself on my bed and whistle at the ceiling and he glares at me. He hates whistling.
‘Snow, you know how I feel about physical manifestations of happiness.’
I stop whistling, since we’re officially having a truce, and just gaze at my present instead, still glittering in its snowy nest. Are you sure it’s not a curse he’s wrapped up to see if you can break it? Penny was only joking, he wouldn’t do that.
I’m almost certain.
‘Speaking of which,’ Baz goes on, ‘What the fuck is all this?’ He waves a hand at the tree. ‘Were you visited by the ghost of Christmas Future? Have you been possessed by a small, crippled boy?’
‘I thought you were the ghost of Christmas Future,’ I say. ‘You’re grim enough. And you’re not allowed to say crippled anymore.’
You can if you’re referencing Dickens.’
‘If you hate Christmas so much, how come you know all the Christmas movie references?’
‘Who says I hate Christmas? I love Christmas. Christmas gets me away from you for two weeks.’
‘You invited me for Christmas!’
‘That was strictly business. We have work to do, but if you’re too lazy to be bothered, then fine, I’ll do it by myself. You’d better make yourself useful here though. I want that library gone over with a fine-toothed comb for any info on anyone called Nico.’
I sigh and get up. ‘Merry Christmas to you too. I’m going to have a shower.’
I grin at my present as I bounce past, and he shakes his head at me and packs yet another floral shirt.
BAZ
I finish packing my leather trunk in the morning while Snow is still at breakfast, ready to leave as soon as Fiona gets here to pick me up. The little toy train toots again. Is it going to do that all day? I narrow my eyes at it, wondering if I can spell it to wake Snow up every hour on the hour until New Year’s.
Crowley, he's even got a present wrapped up at the foot of the tree. Just the one though. Just in case anyone was in any doubt about how pathetic this is. I pick it up and glance at the little tag. Probably from Bunce. I hope she got him something decent.
But it's not from Bunce. And it's not for Snow.
To Baz
Best wishes,
Simon
My brain shuts down for several seconds.
He got me a gift? Is that why the tree’s on my side? I know we're getting along better but this is... unexpected. I shake the box gently. Snow can't afford to buy presents. I'm not sure what to do with it. If he’d launched a curse or a weapon or an insult at me I'd have known exactly what to do but overtures of friendship? I'm stumped. I hear him coming up the stairs and panic, quickly stuffing the present into the nearest hiding place, which happens to be my trunk, because I don’t know what to say about it.
But he doesn't say anything either, just throws himself on the bed, rubbing his scone-filled stomach and groaning about eating too much. Maybe I can put it back under the tree before I leave so he can give it to me properly. Or are we just not acknowledging the present? Was I supposed to just find it? That would be like him. It would be like us.
But I'm about to leave and suddenly I feel bad that I'm leaving him here alone. I feel bad that he's alone because his girlfriend broke up with him because of me. I feel bad that he got me a present and I didn't get him anything.
So I turn and say, 'Listen Snow, about Agatha...'
SIMON
That nine-sided bastard. I’ve been ditched, at Christmas, by my ex-girlfriend who dumped me for Baz and he’s not even interested in her?
I’ve never been an option for Wellbelove, Snow.
He was just messing with her this whole time? Just to get at me? He’s basically ruined my life and my future for a laugh? And he told me all this to make me feel better! Or so he says. We’re supposed to have a truce but he just can’t help himself, can he? Any opportunity to stick the knife a little deeper. I’m sorry I didn’t blow up his half of the room.
And I’m glad I’m not going to his house for Christmas. I’ll admit, I considered it. And watching everyone get picked up this morning by their families, I reconsidered it. I thought, maybe if we were away from Watford things might be different. Maybe we’d talk instead of sniping at each other. Maybe we’d hang out like normal people instead of mortal enemies because people are just nicer at Christmas. Maybe…
Maybe nothing. I wouldn’t darken his door now if his was the only house in England.
I wanted to punch him so badly. But we were in our room and he only left when his aunt arrived for him. Just drops a bomb on me and then snaps his fancy trunk closed and pisses off to have his nice family Christmas and I’ve been lying here on my bed steaming ever since.
Whatever. Fuck him. At least I don’t have to look at his smug face for a couple of weeks. I don’t need him, and I don’t need Agatha. I’ll visit Ebb and I’ll have a nice Christmas here with the Mage, playing charades or whatever people do at Christmas. We’ll open our presents together and chat about ways to kill vampires over the turkey.
I look towards the Christmas tree, seeking the shiny reassurance of my present beneath it.
My heart stops.
I jump up and run to the tree, then the door, then the window, but outside there are only tyre tracks in the snow. That evil, twisted piece of troll turd! He nicked my fucking Christmas present!