Once more the snowflakes fell, drifting across the sky's sullen vault. Grim darkness covered the vault's interior, a seething morass of chill promise. Other years provided gentle promises of quiet softness, of nostalgic discipline for those considering themselves good boys and girls. Even full-grown wizards and witches altered their behavior on Christmas Eve.

Harry gazed down upon his holdings. Slytherin Manor, the dwelling constructed to his exacting specifications, was in a good place. The plants were generating sufficient magic to sustain mid-tier wards, the magical support personnel enhancing such generation by leaps and bounds. In a few short years the manor would be a fortress.

'If.'

The term was important. Obstacles stood before the rise of House Slytherin and indirectly, all for which it stood. Some took the form of political malevolence in the wizarding government. Others lay in darker quarters, foul magics sustaining life where such things should never hold sway. But tonight, the problem was far more complex, if more pleasant.

'What should I do with Luna?'

Where Harry stood, the entire east coast of his little island in the Orkneys could be seen. If the weather were more cooperative, perhaps, and the moon were out; but the principle was maintained. He could see into the darkness, look through the bay window and see other parts of the Manor illuminated from within. That had been a critical construction design – what was the point of having a Master Study if one couldn't have a shadowed vantage point and brood?

'I don't brood,' Harry corrected himself. 'I plan.'

'Brooding, planning, inconsequential semantics,' the argumentative part of his mind fired back. 'Luna is the issue here.'

That much was true.

"Harry?"

The tentative interruption came from a familiar voice, the incredible mind of a friend that had once been an enemy in another lifetime. Even then she had first been a friend before twisted by lies and treachery.

"Yes, Hermione?" he answered. The snow still fell, battering against the plate glass with frenzied abandon.

The young woman remained by the door, hesitant to enter his study. "Luna is in the kitchen. I have scanned the fireplace, and Daphne is searching through her Inner Eye."

He nodded. "Alex and Ginny?"

"Both are resting. They will go on shift in fifteen minutes."

Again he nodded. "Thank you."

It was a dismissal, but Hermione lingered, watching. Her dark eyes traced Harry's own gaze into the nivosity outside. Several heartbeats passed, just the two of them gazing outside.

"You had better rest, Hermione." Harry spoke. "It's going to be a long night."

After another moment's hesitation, the young woman nodded. "All right, Harry. Make sure you get some rest yourself. Remember, she means well, and there hasn't been a negative impact from what she's done in the past."

He forced a smile. "You make a good point. Rest, Hermione. I'll head down to the parlor in a few minutes."

"Good night, Harry," she gave him one last smile before leaving, letting the door click shut.

A sigh developed in Harry's chest, vanishing in the darkness. Two lamps illuminated the study's darkened interior, shaded to avoid turning the window into a mirror-reflective surface. Enchantments could do the same thing; Harry could've waved his hand and made the entire surface non-reflective. Yet that would've cheapened the entire effect, rendering his Study from a place where everything was perfect into something needing constant manipulation.

Another long breath – not quite a sigh – and Harry pulled away from the picturesque scene. Walking across the short, practical carpet, he opened the door and left, leaving the lamps to fade as his presence left their vicinity.

Down a long, sweeping flight of stairs, across the hard floor and into the parlor Harry trod. The route was as well-designed as the manor through which it passed. The inlaid filigree running along the floorboards contained, amongst other things, charms that registered passers-by – especially Luna.

Those same charms notified the appropriate fixtures to illuminate their appropriate surroundings, bringing a golden glow to light around the doorframe.

He entered, noting the festive decorations. Wreaths of holly dangled from the ceiling, like an instrument's purfling, while a full orchestra serenaded through the Wireless. Silent Night, if he was hearing aright. Its musical strains filled the room, crescendoing and fading with the wind.

A faint pop heralded the arrival of the head House Elf – and only House Elf it needed to be said.

"Plato." Harry closed his eyes, listening to the music. "How are you?"

"Master," the little being's deep timbre resonated. "Miss Luna's being eating the puddings. All the puddings."

He grunted. "That's why we made so much, Plato."

A tiny foot thudded against the floor. "Not right. Master shouldn't's needs bribing Miss Luna."

"Bribery?" Harry's eyebrow lifted. "I have an item Luna desires, and she provides a service I desire. Both parties are satisfied with the arrangement, and no other group is being harmed, what is the problem?"

The little elf gave him a mulish look. "Is not beings right."

"Right or wrong, we work with what reality provides," Harry winced. Just listening to himself felt pompous. He tried again. "Tonight will be different. You'll see."

The large-eyed elf cast a gloomy look his way but didn't disagree. Audibly, at least.

"You know," The innocence of Luna's large, blue eyes held conviction that would compel a Wizengamot member in full stride. "This isn't truly necessary."

"We know," Hermione's response held none of Luna's purity. "But we're doing it anyway."

Harry felt a minor urge to disagree, but withstood it. After all the drama provided the prior years Christmas Eve's, a few precautions were minimal in exchange for one's sanity.

"I do like the vertical pattern," Luna reached out to run a finger along the iron bars creating her current domicile. "And it does give me some ideas for when we have things to do. But it is a little hard to see the window from over here."

Harry leaned back against the large cage, careful to not let his elbow disturb her massive pudding bowl. It was but one of four similar vessels of an equal number of flavors. The large containers rested on a comfortable floor-covering; relevant temperature charms applied as needed. An overhead monitoring point was visible for those with the awareness, where Daphne maintained the Eye of Kilrogg divination, more for the sake of security than the hope of preventing unexpected actions. In his experience predicting Luna's behavior had the same probable success as attempting to pin the tail on a dragon – almost impossible to begin with, and even if one succeeded, what was he going to do with it?

"We will give you your wand back after midnight," Ginny was on the farthest side of the room, hand cupped over the holster in which Luna's wand was ensconced. Anti-summoning enchantments were in place but Ginny, as their fastest duelist other than Harry, was ready to react. "How is the pudding?"

"Oh it's good!" The blonde's enthusiasm was not dampened in the slightest, nor her appetite it seemed. "Butterscotch is my favorite!"

"I thought banana was your favorite?" Hermione cocked her head, puzzled.

"Oh it is," Luna assured her.

The intelligent young woman looked even more confused. "But how can both be your favorite?"

Luna blinked at her. "Why would you limit yourself to one favorite?"

The two stared at each other in a bemused way, until Luna seemed to give up the problem in favor of more pudding. Hermione's posture suggested a great deal of thought ongoing, conflicted thoughts running little circles in her mind.

Harry turned his gaze to the grandfather clock, noting the current time. Its stolid presence formed part of the room's theme, dark woods and gleaming brass contrasting well against the greenery. Holly boughs showed a presence here, too. Over to the corner, aside from the massive fireplace, stood a twenty-foot Christmas tree, decked out in multi-colored lights and sparkles. In the dim lighting, despite his old cynicism, all looked … magical.

"Five minutes." Daphne murmured from her position.

Harry tilted his head back against the bars, feeling their cold touch seep through his hair. Charming the metal's properties to warmer temperatures negated its inherent neutralizing strength, a pity in his opinion. Luna's bear rug was soft to the touch, and bore no inherent magical properties.

"Harry, are you … all right?" Hermione's soft voice could've been unheard, if the rest of the room wasn't already silent.

Harry understood the unasked question. Suffering from a unique form of claustrophobia meant remaining enclosed spaces were terrifying, triggering reactions that could rival a minor volcanic action in damage on a localized scale.

"I'm fine. Luna's in here with me, isn't she?" The young woman in question happily lounged against his shoulder. "It won't be for long."

The room grew quiet, crackles from the fireplace popping in unnatural-seeming explosions. Random pops and crackles proved a distraction so one almost missed the relentless tick-tock sound of the grandfather clock. Yet it continued, with or without their observation.

A moment felt like eternity, time-dilation Harry could only compare to true battle. In a fight for one's life judgement rested in seconds, decisions made through practice and experience. Through the experiences he'd had, without the extra decades afforded by the former connection to Voldemort, that would be enough. But taking the past few Christmas Eve's he'd had with Luna, and adding the reflexes gained through hard work and even harder memory recall, the minutes dragged past like trolls mired in waist-deep muck.

Luna was the first to detect the first anomaly. Perhaps it was a case of like recognizing like, Harry had never figured it out. But he was the first to understand how when her head shot up straight, it made an impact.

As when two coconuts had an impromptu get-together, his skull and Luna's cranium created a musical thoonk upon contact. A creative stream of invective came from Harry's mouth – slammed shut by a young hand.

"Shhh!" Luna's earnest expression was sweet, but made somewhat less by the fact there were two of them. "Santa knows when you've been bad or good. Remember?"

Harry groaned, then remembered where he was. He shot up – regretting his decision a heartbeat later. There was a ringing clang, and the world's already uncertain nature became more uncertain still, spinning in slow spirals. Noises of disconcerted females added to the cacophony, along with the deeper voice of someone he knew was important.

A few moments later he managed to regain control, sending the world back on its proper axis. Steadying himself, he looked up – and blinked.

Outside the cage, looking in, was an amused-looking Saint Nicholas, also known as Santa Claus. The source of that amusement, Harry realized, was himself. That realization became potent as something viscous made a successful bid at hiding from its natural predator vis a vis the back of his shirt collar.

"I am aware," the jolly man outside had a smirk like no other being could emulate. "You are close to the Lovegoods, young Lord Slytherin. But I must say you could be mistaken as one yourself wearing those garments."

Harry looked down at his pudding-enveloped garb, then back up. "Wise advice. Thank you."

"My pleasure," the large man grasped the bars with one hand. "Let's get you two out of there, shall we?"

He was just about to warn the other man about magic-inhibiting pure iron but found himself standing in the middle of the room, clean and dry. Luna stood at his side, wearing a new dress he'd never seen before; its verdant hue trickled down from her shoulders, with circular decorative bangles attached at seeming-haphazard locations.

A bolt of worried anticipation went through him. 'If Luna is a Christmas tree, then what ….'

Looking down proved no need for concern. His usual clothing was spotless, a touch better done than what even Plato could manage if he were any judge. Although the jumper he wore was as hideous as anything found in Hagrid's collection …. Looking down again, he missed Luna's sparkling dress - where had she gone? He'd taken his eyes away from her only an instant.

"Thank you for your efforts," Santa was saying, drawing his attention away from the offense to fashion resting on his torso. "Would you mind if I asked how you derived this arrangement? Or more importantly, why you believed it necessary?"

There was a brief exchange of looks, thoughts collected and dispersed across the room. Several pointed glances made it clear Harry would need to take the lead, a fact he'd remember next time there were complaints about training schedules.

"Offending one of the most powerful, and non-hostile magical beings is something I would like to avoid," he began. "And it just, well, it's rude to bother someone that's just going around doing what you do."

A twinkle shimmered in Santa's eye, one that would've put Dumbledore's own to shame. "A noble thought. I suppose the idea of having your own presents curtailed if Luna managed to offend me was a factor?"

Harry opted for blunt honesty. If there were any member of the Fae that would stay calm, it was this one. Lying to the one individual renowned for an ability to discern good and bad seemed an idiot's idea of monumental proportions.

"A factor, yes."

Santa got a very knowing look in his eye. He studied Harry, those irresistible orbs peering through his very soul. Then he chuckled.

Harry relaxed.

Then the clattering of dozens of shod hooves rattled on the rooftop, followed by an indignant yell.

Harry turned towards the chimney, just in time to see a small elf with a round head and laugh lines tumble through the open flames like they were pillows. The elf landed in a surprisingly agile crouch. "Santa! The Luna hijacked the sleigh!"

Santa's grin looked like the moon had come out. "Thank you Dale, are you well?"

The little elf brushed himself off. "Never better. But the sleigh!"

"Let her have a joy ride, the reindeer know to come back." Santa shrugged. "It is a small thing that brings her so much joy. Time is no matter for me, what is an hour or three? It is nice to speak with people taller than my knee on occasion."

The little elf sniggered.

Santa turned to Harry. "I trust cookies are still on the mantle?"

"Please," Harry gestured at what less affluent residences would call a buffet. "Help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do. And in accordance to tradition," the man's beard rose upward, indicating the smile beneath. "Merry Christmas, Mister Potter, young ladies, and to all! To all, a good night."

A/N: Entitled the fourth, as that is how it's recorded in my files. I believe there is a #1 in there, but haven't found it. Merry Christmas!