Disclaimer - I own very little. And JKR can have it all … I bet she's excited at the prospect.
Thanks to Minx, who Beta-read this at very short notice on Christmas Eve, and who, in a very abstract sense, plays a couple of cameo roles in this seasonal tale ;)
Christmas present
"Now, perhaps you and Harry would like to play a card game or something? Or do you have some homework that you should be doing before term starts again?" asked Hermione's mother. "Your father and I have got to ... do some … do something, and it would be best if you were, er …"
"We'll go out for a late walk" said Hermione, smiling at her mother. "Come on Harry." She dragged him out of the living-room into the hall, where they donned their cloaks and boots and headed out into the cold night air. It was nearly eleven o'clock.
"Sorry about this" said Hermione, winding her scarf around her neck.
"It's okay, I know Christmas is really meant for parents. We've just got to humour them."
"It's the same every Christmas Eve" said Hermione, giggling. "Mum always wants to wrap up my presents last and she still wants to think I'm seven years old, rather than seventeen. I'm surprised she didn't send us up to bed."
Harry raised his eyebrows and grinned.
"Harry!" said Hermione, slapping him on the arm. "I won't invite you again if you think thoughts like that."
"Thoughts like what?" asked Harry innocently.
"You know" said Hermione.
"It never crossed my mind! But it was very nice of you and your parents to ask me down for Christmas. I didn't know you had a cottage in Devon. Dentistry must pay well?"
"I guess" said Hermione. "I wanted Mum and Dad to meet you properly. And you didn't think I was going to spend Christmas without my favourite boyfriend did you?"
"Favourite?" said Harry, in a hurt voice. "How many have you got?"
"Well, including you … one." They smiled at each other. Harry took her hand and swung her arm backwards and forwards as they walked along.
"Did you get anything for my parents?"
"Some chocolates and a bottle of brandy."
"Harry, you can be very unoriginal when you try" sighed Hermione. "I hope you didn't spend any money on me."
"Nope."
"Oh" said Hermione, a little sadly.
"You'll just have to wait and see won't you" said Harry, grinning, picturing the necklace he'd bought her.
Hermione smiled and slipped her arm through his, squeezing up against him for warmth. They turned off the lane and walked slowly over the silent fields, scrunching through the frozen snow. Harry helped Hermione over an ice-covered ditch and they meandered towards a small wood. There was a track leading into the wood, so they followed it. It was even quieter inside the wood than out. The snow was deeper and they walked forward only with difficulty, laughing and giggling, taking exaggeratedly large strides. Hermione clung onto Harry for balance and twice they nearly fell into drifts. As they rounded a bend in the track, Harry stopped.
"What?" asked Hermione.
"Can you hear something?"
"No."
"Listen."
Hermione pushed her woolly hat up from her ears and listened hard. She could just hear a murmuring and a faint snorting sound.
"This way" said Harry. "It's coming from over there."
"Harry, wait. You don't know what it is. It might be … well, you know."
"Oh, don't be silly. Why would Voldemort be hanging around in a wood in Devon on Christmas Eve? Come on." He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the trees and bushes. They pushed forward and came into a small clearing. And there sat …
"Father Christmas!" exclaimed Harry.
"I don't believe it" said Hermione, looking around. A very large sleigh, hitched to four reindeer stood in the middle of the clearing. A huge sack, piled high with presents, lay on the back of the sleigh. Assorted surly-looking gnomes, sat on it and around it. And on an old gnarled log at the edge of the clearing, sat Santa Claus and a thin cadaverous-looking elf. Santa was drawing on a cigarette. He looked up at them.
"It isn't, is it?" asked Harry in amazement.
"Ho-ho-ho" said Santa, in a bored voice. He flicked the stub of his cigarette into the snow.
"Blimey" said Harry, hurrying over to him.
Good grief, thought Hermione. She saw that Harry's eyes were shining and she shook her head. Still a little boy at heart. But aren't they all? Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of her and she went over.
"Sit down, sit down" said Santa, patting the log. "You haven't got a smoke on you by any chance?"
Harry shook his head. Santa turned to the elf, with a hopeful look on his face.
"He only smokes MBCs" said the elf, fishing out a cigarette.
"MBCs?" asked Harry.
"My Bloody Ciggies" muttered the elf.
"Cheers" said Santa, lighting up from a flame that popped up magically when he clicked his fingers. He took a long drag and then, with a grin, blew a line of smoke rings. And then broke into a hacking cough.
"Be the death of you" said the elf.
"As opposed to hurtling round the night sky in all weathers, in a tin can with a bunch of mutinous draft-board rejects I suppose" countered Santa. Harry grinned broadly as the elf rolled his eyes skywards.
Hermione shook her head in disbelief again and turned her attention to the sleigh. The gnomes didn't look very festive. Most were smoking roll-ups. Those that weren't, were taking swigs from what appeared to be an enormous bottle of Muggle single malt whisky. I wonder who they got that from, thought Hermione. Two younger-looking gnomes were sat in the snow with their backs to the sleigh, peering at the centre pages of a magazine they were holding up vertically. Hermione craned her head round to try to read the title on the cover - 'Gnome Babes Xmas Special', she made out. Well really! Men, all the same! Whatever mystery Christmas still held for her, was fast vanishing.
"How quickly can the reindeer pull the sleigh?" asked Harry.
Santa and the elf chuckled and grinned at one another.
"They don't pull it" said the elf. "They're just for show, in case any of the little brats are still awake when we turn up. How do you expect four mangy dog-food candidates like that, to lift two hundred tons of presents into the air?" The reindeer snorted and pawed the ground and looked murderously at the elf.
"Two hundred tons?" asked Hermione, incredulously.
"Got a lot of children on this round" said Santa.
"There isn't room in the sack" said Hermione. "Oh, you've put an Abyssal spell on it?"
"Yeah, it's bottomless" said Santa, nodding. "Though it's a devil of a job getting the Fetchers to go all the way down as we near the end of the round. I swear we lose a few each year."
"Still, what's a few gnomes more or less in the world?" shrugged the elf, a grin on his thin face.
"What makes it go then?" asked Harry.
"It's got a pair of Nimbus Industries Turbo-Ramjets at the back" replied the elf. "And Mercury" - he pointed to a gnome - "is a wizard when it comes to tweaking them. We can get sixty thousand pounds of thrust from them - more if we kick in the nitro."
"Wow!" declared Harry. He looked wide-eyed at Hermione, who nodded and smiled and tried to look enthusiastic. She realised she hadn't the faintest idea what the elf was on about.
"Can I have a look?" asked Harry eagerly, a little-boy expression painted across his face.
"Yeah, of course" said the elf. "Most of it was my idea you know." Harry jumped up and the elf stood.
"I couldn't bum another, er …" asked Santa.
"Take the ruddy lot" said the elf, pushing a cigarette packet at him. "Just leave me some." Santa nodded his thanks as Harry and the elf hurried over to the sleigh. Hermione lost interest as they disappeared under the rear cover.
"You don't mind do you?" asked Santa, pointing at a cigarette, "only we're not allowed to smoke on the round, automatic dismissal if any of the kids see us lighting-up."
Hermione looked disapprovingly at him. "You shouldn't you know, they're very bad for you. They'll take years off your life."
"I know, I know, but I reckon I've had a fair crack - I'm three hundred and sixty-two you know. Or is it seventy-two? Whatever. May I?"
"Go on" sighed Hermione.
Santa lit up and took a long drag. A bout of coughing followed.
Hermione shook her head. "I am sat in the middle of a snowy wood with a chain-smoking Father Christmas? I'm not dreaming, am I?"
"I hope not. Girls your age shouldn't be dreaming of fat old men my age, dressed in red velvet, wearing a hat with a bloody bell on it." He gave his head a shake and a merry jingling rang out. His dark eyes twinkled and a smile cracked his weather-beaten face.
"I take your point" said Hermione. She smiled at him - he did have a certain something about him. She could imagine him as a bit of a Jack-the-Lad when he was young, long before her grand-parents' grand-parents had been born. He produced a small silver hip-flask, took a pull at it and then offered it to her.
"No thanks" said Hermione. "I don't like spirits. Champagne is more my thing - in fact I love champagne. Not that I'm old enough to drink, but …" She giggled.
Santa scratched at his beard. "Well I don't think we have any on the sleigh, but I can get one of the gnomes to look if you want?"
"No, honestly, it's all right" said Hermione.
"Sensible girl" said Santa, taking a final swig, before pocketing the flask.
"So how long does it take you to get around everybody?" asked Hermione. "I mean you don't do the whole world, surely?"
"No, I'm just the Devon Santa, though I do part of Cornwall for old Tobias - he's getting a bit long in the tooth now. It usually takes about five hours, just depends on what sort of a shower of Fetchers and Stuffers I've got. And how much they've had to drink." He glared at the nearest gnomes, who looked back very insolently.
"Fetchers and Stuffers?"
"Fetchers fetch presents from the sack. Stuffers take them and go down the chimney and stuff them into the stockings."
"Oh, I thought you did the chimney bit?" said Hermione.
Santa looked at her and then patted his ample stomach and chuckled. "Not me - a job for the Slim-Jims." He looked round angrily as a faint, yet clear, comment of 'Fatboy' came from the depths of the sleigh. He flicked his cigarette in the direction of the gnomes.
"Oh don't do that" said Hermione. "Please don't litter the countryside."
"Get that picked up" growled Santa at the nearest gnome.
"Why?" moaned the young gnome.
"Because the Lady doesn't like it. And because I say so. And because I decide your pay-rise, that's why."
The gnome picked up the butt, with a mutter, and lobbed it contemptuously into the sack. He sat down again, looking daggers at them.
"See," said Santa, "see what I have to work with? You just can't get the staff. They only have to work one day a year, you'd think they'd be queuing up, but oh, no, Stuffing is too much for them these days, too much like hard work. They want it easy … jobs in Muggle department-store Christmas-Grottoes are what they're all after and …" His rant was interrupted by the return of Harry and the elf.
"It's incredible what they've got back there" said Harry, enthusiastically. "You should see the plumbing for the nitro-feed. And the afterburner system is amazing. And the whole sleigh is made out of titanium to minimise weight. And Viggy - this is Vigralanian - says they're going to have a computerised engine control system for it next year and ..."
"Fascinating" said Hermione. She resisted the temptation to yawn exaggeratedly, seeing how eager Harry looked as he imparted details of engine and sleighframe …
Beeping sounds filled the air and a dozen gnomes pressed a dozen buttons on their Japanese wrist-watches.
"Well, quarter-to-midnight" said Santa, standing. "Time we were on our way. Places to go, things to do." The clearing filled as gnomes appeared from almost everywhere and started to pile onto the sleigh. Powerful engines spluttered into life.
"Right people, you know what this entails, you know how much depends on it" boomed Santa. "Happy faces please." Fixed grins appeared on most faces. Santa winked at Harry and Hermione. "Just a wee joke to get them warmed up." He turned to the gnomes and swelled up with pride.
"Time to get this …"
"Snow on the road" chorused the gnomes.
"Oh, you've heard it" said Santa, a disappointed look on his face.
"Only every year for the past twenty-two years" whispered Viggy to Harry and Hermione.
"Right, we are cleared with ATC this year?" said Santa to Viggy, who nodded furiously.
"Air Traffic Control?" said Harry.
"That's right" sighed Santa. "Somebody" - he glared hard at Viggy - "forgot to get clearance last year. A couple of Royal Navy warplanes had missile-lock on us, before we managed to get through to the Portsmouth tower to have them called off." Harry grinned as Viggy blushed, as least as much as an elf ever blushes. He watched as they climbed onto the front of the sleigh.
"We'll be doing a few low circles just to get the engines properly warmed up" yelled Viggy, "so don't worry if you keep seeing us. Stand clear please."
Harry and Hermione moved to the edge of the clearing. There was a roar from the engines and the sleigh moved forward. And then stalled.
"Handbrake" sang out Viggy.
"Do you want to drive?" asked Santa crossly. The engines fired up again and this time, with a shudder and a lurch, the sleigh climbed up into the sky, banked left and began to circle around the wood.
Hermione watched Harry, as he turned slowly on the spot, following the sleigh round. As he completed a full circle, Hermione smiled lovingly at him and put her arms around his waist.
"Isn't Christmas magical" said Harry, a look of near rapture on his face, his eyes still on the sleigh.
"Oh Harry, you clot" said Hermione. She stretched up and kissed him on the cheek.
"Clot eh?" said Harry. He bent and kissed the tip of her nose.
"Clot! I think it's why I love you so much."
"Love you too." He wrapped his arms around her and they hugged.
"Can I have my Christmas present now?" whispered Hermione.
"Didn't bring it. Didn't think."
"I'm sure you can think of something" giggled Hermione.
Harry smiled and bent forward and busied himself with her lips. A minute or so later, they broke apart.
"Happy Christmas!" said Harry.
Hermione didn't reply. She was staring at the sleigh, which was pulling slowly away from them. The sack of presents was on fire.
T H E E N D