Baz loved Christmas. Although spending the break with his family always promised awkward moments (what with being a gay vampire in a conservative wizard household), those were bearable thanks to all the happy times. Baking cookies with his sisters. Wrapping presents with his step-mother. Finding the perfect tree with his father. These were the memories swirling in his head as he zipped his suitcase closed and Simon entered their room, slamming the door quickly behind him.

"I think I made a mistake," Simon blurted. His magic was sizzling, and Baz's skin prickled with the sensation.

"Truly, I am shocked." Baz's words were draped in sarcasm.

Simon walked straight to his bed, clearly upset, "I think I just- I mean, I don't even know exactly what- I just-"

"Spit it out," Baz snapped venomously. He didn't have time for this nonsense.

Simon plopped down on his mattress. "I had some peppermint hot chocolate and scones in the kitchen. Then on my walk back I started singing a Christmas song. And then. . ."

Baz waited for a brief moment, before deciding that the end of Simon's sentence wasn't worth it. He scoffed with his nose in the air, and then headed for the door, suitcase in hand, without so much as a Merry Christmas.

The second he opened the door, he was pushed back a foot by an enormous gust of bitter wind. Snow and hail began piling up in the room, a hurricane of winter weather exploding from outside. Baz was so surprised that Simon had to leap up and push his entire body weight on the door, inching forward little by little until it finally banged shut.

Baz's suitcase and mouth dropped. "What . . . the hell just happened!?"

Simon groaned, rubbed his face with his hands, and slumped back to his bed.

Baz brushed the snowflakes off of his clothes, hair, and face before spinning towards Simon. "What song did you sing?"

Sheepishly, Simon croaked out, "Let It Snow."

Furiously he clenched his fists and kicked his suitcase, "You casted a song and created a blizzard! I'm supposed to be in a carriage headed for home right now!"

"Look, I'll just call the Mage and he-"

"He's gone!" Baz cried, "Everyone's gone! Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and everyone else left 5 days ago- Fuck, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. My family is going to-"

"Maybe it'll be over soon," Simon tried, weakly.

"I'm sure that this will be hard for an unloved orphan such as yourself to grasp," Baz sneered, "but my family actually wants me to be there for Christmas Eve. You better start singing Here Comes the Sun so I can leave this hellhole."

Simon's eyes lowered to his icy hands that were playing with his bed sheet. "My magic feels . . . burned."

"What do you mean?" Baz scowled, although he knew exactly what he meant. There was a certain smell in the air, like someone had left a piece of plastic in the oven. Simon Snow had power, but much like the shelves in Walmart tomorrow night, he needed to be restocked. There was no way he was going to be casting a phrase anytime soon, much less a whole song. And although Baz currently could think of countless sentences, paragraphs, and poems that had storm-canceling effects, he knew that his magic was nothing to Simon's.

"I mean," Simon spoke carefully, "that we're stuck here."