Heyoo! Smurfyfriend here!

I know, it's been awhile since I posted anything. I swear, I'm not dead! But I am on the night shift now so that has kinda been messing with my schedule... but on the plus side I can work on stuff at work now! lol

This is something that's been in the works for at minimum a year. actually a little over a year, now that I think about it. I meant to have this posted by Christmas of LAST year xD

And yes, there is more. :D i think there's... three parts left? maybe four, but I don't think so. And those are currently on the way.

Thick, wet snowflakes drifted languidly down from the sky as a shivering and thickly dressed Italian man hurried his way down the road. He breathed a hot breath onto his cold, gloved hands, rubbing them together in an attempt to heat them up. He wasn't quite acclimated to the cold German weather; despite the weeks he had lived there, returning after a visit to his brother and his fiancé in their Tuscan villa threw him off enough that the familiar path was freezing and unforgiving. He was the warm, sunny country of Italy! Of COURSE he'd be freezing in Berlin on Christmas Eve!

Once he got to the street and house he'd been looking for, his heart started to hurt. All of the other houses had Christmas lights up, or some kind of decorations up around the house. In a couple of houses, Italy could even see the lights and twinkling ornaments of Christmas trees through the windows.

But for the first time Italy suspected in forever, no lights adorned this house. The inside through the windows looked dark, sad. The whole house seemed cold, dark and sad.

Just like its owner, Italy frowned at the thought.

Italy approached the front door, and found it locked when he tried to open it. The auburn-haired nation glanced over at the driveway. Yup. The Volkswagen and Audi both sat in their usual spots, untouched. So Germany was definitely home. He knocked at the door. When no answer met his ear after several minutes, he fished his keys from his coat pocket and sorted through the various keys and baubles until he found Germany's house key. (The German had given it to him in case something happened to his own key). He used the key to unlock the door, then opened it with a loud creak. The loud barking of large dogs and the telltale clicking of clawed paws on wood floors immediately greeted Italy at the door, only for the three dogs that had made the barking to be silenced by loud yells in German. So Germany was DEFINITELY home.

Italy followed the familiar corridors of the house until he was at the study. Without a sufficient knock, Italy opened the door, only to see the Germany that made his heart hurt.

The blonde nation had his hair slicked back with gel. Reading glasses sat on the bridge of his prominent nose, lenses white from the glare of the laptop in front of him. His sky blue eyes- once gentle and bright- were dull and uncaring. Italy put on a smile and half-ran, half skipped, half floated over to the German. Germany gave a great sigh. "What now, Italy?" he asked with some annoyance in his voice, "I have a lot of work to get done."

"Ve, work on Christmas Eve? You're so odd, Germany!" Italy almost hummed, hoping his smile would be infections as per usual, "Speaking of Christmas, where IS everything? It's'a Christmas Eve and you don't even have your tree up!"

Germany avoided his eyes. "I just…. Didn't feel like putting up a tree this year." He explained softly, eyes closed and posture stiff.

"Then what about the lights, and the Christmas cookies?" Italy frowned softly, "Germany makes the very best Christmas cookies. Even better than Big Brother France!"

Germany cleared his throat and shuffled some paper around. Italy's frown of concern deepened as he put a hand to Germany's back. "Ve… Germany…" Italy's voice was soft. "Are you okay?"

Germany kept his face turned away. "I just can't handle Christmas this year, Feliciano." His voice was soft, "There will be no Christmas in the Belschmidt residence."

Italy's heart sank in his chest hearing his human name. Human names were only used in intimate or serious interactions. And since the situation didn't strike Italy as intimate or friendly, Italy knew the reason why his human name was used. "Ludwig," Italy's voice had a sadness to it, "Ignoring the things he loved, and what you both loved together isn't going to make the pain go away."

Germany didn't answer, nor did he react to Italy's soft words. But the younger-looking nation was not deterred. "Ve, Luddy," Italy's lips pulled into a smile in the hopes the German may mimic it, "Japan, and Lovino, and Antonio, and some of the other nations are all coming to my house for Christmas."

Italy patted Germany's back with the hand that was already there. "I'd really like it if you would come over and spend Christmas with us."

Germany's fist tightened. "Italy…. Forgive me for rushing you out, but I have work to do before the New Year."

"At least think about it, Okay? Ve…"Italy quickly added.

"Ja, Ja, I'll think about it." Germany hastily replied, not a single stitch of sincerity in his voice. "Now, please, Italy…"

Italy left with a silent close of the door. He quietly walked out of the house, to the street. He stuffed his hands in his coat pockets as a cold breeze ruffled his auburn hair.

As he walked through the town, he passed a man in a moth-eaten tuxedo coat and thin suit pants, a well loved violin nestled in his arms and the case at his feet. Italy stopped for a moment to listen to his song. He recognized it immediately.

"God rest ye, merry gentleman

Let nothing you dismay

Remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas day…"

For one reason or another, Italy found himself thinking about his German friend.

He HAD to help Ludwig.

He HAD to.

Looking at the man's bare hands, then back down at his own, Italy pulled the soft gloves off. He also unwound his scarf from his neck, exposing it to the cold air. The Italian also dug a couple of loose bills from his pocket and put all three things in the man's violin case. The man halted his playing. "Your gloves," he said, "You can't give these away… you'll catch your death."

"I have another pair." Italy smiled, "Merry Christmas."

The man smiled, visibly grateful. "God bless you, sir. Merry Christmas."

Italy walked along the road. When he heard the violin again, he looked up and looked back and saw the man had put on the gloves and scarf. Italy smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket as he kept walking. No one deserved to be sad at Christmas.

A few hours passed and it was dark outside. Italy looked down at the address in his hands then back up at the door. This was definitely the place. The warm nation swallowed the lump in his throat and shakily knocked on the door three times. A few moments later the master of the house answered the door. His shaggy blonde hair shined brightly under the colorful lights, his thick eyebrows were knit. He had a bit of a scowl over his face. "Oh, it's only you, Italy." His face relaxed, British accent thick in his voice. "Happy Christmas, old chap."

"Buon Natale, Britain." Italy offered a nervous smile. "May I please come in?"

"Yes, yes, please do." Britain stood aside and let the sunny nation through. "Can I offer you some tea, or coffee or something? The Frog just made a fresh pot."

"Coffee would be great. Thank you." Italy smiled, following him to the kitchen.

Italy was met by the sight of a familiar French rear end bent over an open oven. But after a moment the familiar face that went with it appeared. "Ve! Big Brother France!" Italy almost sang.

"Ah, mon petite Italy!" France offered Italy one of the cookies cooling on the counter. "How are you this fine holiday?"

"I'm okay," Italy shrugged, accepting the cookie, "Thank you. How about you?"

"I'm doing alright." France offered a smile.

Britain offered Italy a mug filled with coffee, which he graciously accepted. "By the look of your half-smile, and your hesitant 'okay', I think I can deduct that this isn't a social visit."

"Angeleterre," France chided, "Don't be rude to our guest."

"No, he's right," Italy waved France's concern away, "I do have something important to talk to you about, Mr. Britain."

"Arthur, please." The Brit replied, taking a sip from his teacup. "Or simply Britain. None of that formality crap."

"Arthur, then." Italy smiled. "Well… I guess to put it simply, I'm worried about Germany…"

Arthur kept focused, curious eyes on Italy, and sipped his tea. "Worried?"

"Italy nodded, staring down into his coffee. "Si… Ever since what happened…" Out of the corner of his eye, Italy saw France pause, and his usual smile fall as he bowed his head sadly. "Well, since what happened, Germany's shit himself in and closed himself off from everyone."

Arthur stared calculatingly into his tea. "Come to think of it, I haven't heard from him. And we usually make it a point to play football to celebrate the Christmas truce."

"That's just it," Italy's voice was very quiet. "Germany… He's not celebrating Christmas."

Both of the nations nearly jumped in surprise. "W-what?!" Arthur almost shouted. "He's not having a Christmas?!"

France shook his head. "Mon Dieu, this IS serious. The Christmas Market must be suffering, too."

"Si," Italy looked up at Arthur with pleading eyes. "That's why I came here…. Please, Arthur, there has to be a way to make Luddy love Christmas again!"

Arthur thought very hard for a moment, his eyebrows knit and a frown over his face. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the doorbell rang. Arthur offered an apologetic smile and answered the door. "Ah, Roderich," The dark haired man stood in the doorway.

"Here are those records you asked me about at the last meeting, Britain." The dark haired Austrian handed Arthur a few records of classical music, and also handed him two CDs in cases. "Consider this a Christmas gift, If you like. Elizabeta gave me these, but I already have them."

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to say, or whether or not to feel offended. "Ehm… Thank you." He said, looking down at the cd.

Trans-Siberian Orchestra. "That's it!" Arthur almost shouted. "Roderich, come inside! I need your help with something!"

Before the aristocrat could deny, Arthur grabbed his wrist and pulled him across the threshold. "Italy, come with me!" Arthur shouted in the direction of the kitchen.

Not a moment later, Italy entered the room. "Arthur, what-"

"Basement, now!" Arthur managed, "Francis! I'm going down to the basement for a little while, don't come down no matter what!"

"Alright, Angeleterre. No lava this time, please!"

Arthur muttered an agreement and led the two to a staircase. They descended the stairs, only stopping for a moment so Arthur could unlock the door. Arthur opened the door to the basement and held it open as the other two walked in past him, then quickly shut the door behind them. Italy and Austria stood by and watched as Arthur straightened things up, then drew on the floor in chalk. "This is a very powerful spell." Arthur explained, all seriousness in his voice. "It's only been cast a few times in the last hundred years."

"Ve," Italy murmured, "But It'll help Germany?"

"Yes." Arthur nodded, "This spell should help Germany get his Christmas Spirit back."

"Whatever it takes, then." Italy nodded solemnly. "I can't stand to see him so upset."

"It's a good thing you say that," Arthur smirked, pulling a velvet cloak around his shoulders with a flutter. "I'm going to need your help with this."

"V-ve!? M-my help!?" Italy squeaked, "But I can't even do a simple card trick!"

"Neither can I," Austria huffed, affronted at the very insinuation. "Unless you count the magic of music, I am essentially useless to you."

"That's exactly the music I mean, you prat," Arthur huffed, "Italy, you play, yes?"

"S-si," Italy replied, "B-but I—"

"Just play what comes to mind," Arthur assured him, "You'll know."

The large grandfather clock in the corner chimed loudly. "Spit spot, pick up your feet lads! It's nearly ten o'clock, and heaven knows he'll in bed soon!" Arthur clapped his hands, "Italy, Austria- stand on those two corners!"

They did as they were told. As the bells of the clock chimed, Arthur murmured in a dead language, silver dust seeming to materialize from thin air. By the end of the tenth chime, a set of piano keys rested just in front of Austria. The bespectacled nation stared in awe at the keys. "Well?" Arthur crossed his arms, "Go on now. Play what comes to mind about Germany."

Tentatively, the Germanic nation plunked a few keys one at a time, until they seemed to have a pattern all their own. Then, Italy watched in amazement as a violin materialized from sparkling red dust. "Now your turn, mate." Arthur urged gently.

Italy took the violin and bow, and closed his eyes. He let his heart guide his hands as he played the notes.

"God rest ye, merry gentleman

Let nothing you dismay."

Arthur murmured in approval, uncrossing his arms and using one hand to untie his cloak. "Right now," his voice was oddly calm. "You both need to swear you will stay put until the end of the spell, no matter what."

Both nations nodded in agreement. Italy could've sworn he heard a flute playing as Arthur looked up at them, green eyes glinting. "Alright," Arthur looked up at them, casting his velvety cloak away with a flourish. "Now it's my turn."

Italy watched as a guitar surrounded by burning green fire materialized into Arthur's hands. The clocks chimed again, two at a time, several times.

God rest

Ye mer-ry

Gen-tle

Man.

Then, almost out of the blue, Arthur started playing. And it was a good thing the violin had left Italy's hands, because he wouldn't've played it- he was left dumbfounded staring at Arthur. He had heard tales of the island nation's punk rock phase, as well as his musical prowess- but Italy had thought it was all rumors. He was shown wrong that Christmas eve.

Arthur played with an intensity very few had ever seen from him. Fingers flew over metal strings and plucked screaming notes

Hark! Hear the bells, sweet silver bells

All seem to say, 'throw cares away'

Christmas is here, bringing good cheer

Italy was only brought from his trance by the violin reappearing in his arms and joining in as the song began to slow. Arthur strummed one final cord, and the instruments all dematerialized into the air. Arthur fell to his knee, fist down on the glowing transmutation circle, his breath coming out in labored huffs. "Arthur!" Italy hesitated to move, "Are you-"

"Stay there!" He replied quickly, "I'm fine… I'm just not as young as I used to be, is all."

After a moment, the circle stopped glowing. "There. The spell is cast." Arthur stood. "Now both of you go right home and go right to bed. We've a long Christmas eve ahead of us."

"Ve, okay." Italy nodded. "Thank you so much for your help, Arthur."

"Yes, yes, of course." Arthur smiled politely. "If not for Germany's sake, then for Francis."

"Right," Italy's head bowed for a moment, "Sometimes it's strange to remember you're not the only one affected by that sort of thing…"

Arthur didn't reply until they were at the door. "Well, I guess I need to head home." Italy murmured, distractedly pulling his coat on. "we have a lot of guests at my house right now, and poor Romano's been entertaining them without me right now!"

"Right, right," Arthur cleared his throat, opening the door for Italy and Austria.

Austria gave a huff and started off towards his car. "What on earth did I get myself into… goodnight, merry Christmas."

"Happy Christmas to you too, Austria." Arthur replied, "Have a good night, Italy. Drive safely."

"Ve, you as well, Arthur." Italy offered a wide smile. "Ve, if you and France aren't doing anything for Christmas, you're more than welcome to join us all at my house for dinner."

"That's rather kind of you, Italy. We'll try to stop by, if weather permits." He said with a smile. "Goodnight, Italy. And happy Christmas."

"Buon Natale to you too, Arthur." Italy replied, closing the door behind him.

Somewhere far away, Italy heard the bells chime.

okeydokey, Act II is on its way :D fave, review, watch, and feed your ninjas well! :D