She's not sure why, but Bernie wakes up early on Christmas morning. Really early. It's still resolutely black in the room, but she doesn't need to see to know that she's in Serena's bed, right arm tucked under Serena's neck and left hand resting on Serena's hip, her front nudged up against Serena's back. She breathes in the scent of Serena, nuzzles into her hairline and places a feather-light kiss there. She doesn't know whether or not the novelty should have worn off by now, but it nowhere near has; she lies there taking deep breaths and quietly humming them out, every now and then dropping a kiss on to Serena's neck and shoulders.

Serena opens one eye to look at the clock, sees 05:12 shining back at her, and closes it again. Without moving, without even really opening her mouth more than is strictly necessary, she says, "I didn't even get up this early at Christmas when Elinor was tiny, Bernie. You'd better not be trying to get me up." It comes out in a growl. A friendly growl, but a growl nonetheless. "No, no, I'm not, I promise, Serena," Bernie whispers, feathering more kisses into Serena's hair, through a smile. "Ssshhhh, sshh, sshh, go back to sleep, sssh, see you in the morning." She pulls Serena closer, her arm around Serena's waist now, and settles her head on the pillow. "Sleep tight."

It's another couple of hours before Serena stirs again, but this time Bernie is fast asleep and breathing heavily into Serena's shoulder blade. She tries to slip out of the bed (Jason will be up before long and if all of the children turn up there's a lot of food to prepare, and Serena wants it to be just perfect), but Bernie's arm is firmly around her middle and she's wrapped her foot around Serena's ankle, too. Only after several minutes of trying gently to extricate herself from Bernie's grip does she realise that Bernie isn't asleep at all, and is simply buggering about. The second she tuts in realisation, Bernie dissolves into giggles, squeezing Serena tighter and kissing her spine as many times as she can get away with before Serena breaks free to sit on the edge of the bed, turning to look at her. Even through the mess of blonde curls, she can spot those puppy-dog eyes begging forgiveness.

"It's nearly 7.30. We agreed." Serena says, trying to maintain her irritation.

Bernie squints at the clock. "It's 7.26. Come back to bed for four minutes." She lifts the covers in invitation, not very accidentally revealing most of her naked body and smirking as Serena's eyes can't help but track downwards.

She stands, though, and starts wrapping a robe around herself. "You should know by now, Ms. Wolfe," – she's using her stern consultant voice, dwelling deliciously on the zzz of 'Ms.' – "that I will never be done with you in four minutes."

Bernie drops her face into the pillow and groans. "But. Sereeeeeena!"

"Have a tantrum all you like, I'm sure it won't be the last we'll witness today." Serena's gaze drifts towards one of the photos of Elinor on the chest of drawers. "Tea or coffee?" she asks, turning to head downstairs.

Bernie harrumphs into the pillow again, but concedes defeat and pushes herself up onto her elbows. "Tea, please."

Jason is already in the kitchen eating breakfast by the time Bernie ambles in, PJs and a hoodie pulled on skewiff. "Merry Christmas, Bernie!" he calls cheerfully. "Auntie Serena says I can't open any presents until we've all had breakfast, so please hurry up."

Bernie smiles at Serena. "Well, Auntie Serena hasn't even wished me a merry Christmas yet," she says, in mock admonition, picking up the mug of tea that's been left for her. Serena takes it out of her hands and replaces it on the side. "Merry Christmas, Bernie," she whispers, slipping her hands around Bernie's waist as she kisses her - not entirely chastely, but for a PG audience, let's say. "Merry Christmas, Serena," comes the reply, thick with emotion. Serena brushes Bernie's fringe to one side and looks deep into those dark eyes, eyes that are just now threatening to spill a tear or two. Serena strokes her thumb across Bernie's cheekbone and smiles that reassuring smile: the one that says I know everything that's going on in there and it's OK. Bernie smiles back. The one that says I don't know what I did to deserve you but I will die trying to honour the privilege.

"Will you open the champagne, darling?"

"Champagne?!" Bernie looks from Serena to the bottle and back again. "Isn't it supposed to be Bucks Fizz? It's barely eight o'clock."

Serena gives her a wicked grin and places two champagne flutes on the table. "Water it down if you need to, soldier," she teases. "Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon OK, or would you like some of Jason's Coco Pops?"

"Oh you are-" Bernie moves to wrap herself around Serena, a play wrestle brewing when Jason loses his patience. "I'd really like to open some presents soon, Auntie Serena," he says. Bernie clears her throat, throwing raised eyebrows at Serena, who throws them back. "Sorry Jason. Erm, scrambled eggs would be lovely."