It was early morning a few days before Christmas. The light carpeting of snow crunched softly underfoot. Snowflakes rode the light winds swirling around until they found a window or glass to cling to. Shopkeepers opened up their stores up and down the long avenue. It was a less pricey neighborhood of Notting Hill but it was well-travelled and prosperous in its own way.
Dr. Philippa Granger unlocked the door to the practice. Her husband and daughter were close behind her both carrying large boxes.
"Today's the big day, isn't it, Philippa?" asked a wizened man sweeping the ground before a small cafe and bakery.
"Yes, Mick, it is."
"Well, I'll have my grandson bring some fresh food in every other hour or so. Don't you fret."
"We never do, Mick. We appreciate your help as always." Philippa held the door open as her husband and daughter brought their boxes in.
"God bless you, Philippa, givin' free work for the needy during this time and all."
"For some people this is the only dental work they get done all year."
"Expecting the same as last year?" Mick leaned on his broomstick putting some effort into sweeping a stubborn patch of snow.
"I think a bit more, Mick. We might be here very late tonight."
"Well, then we'll just have to keep baking won't we?" Mick smiled and flashed his perfect dentures.
Inside, Hermione rearranged the receiving room a little bit. A long row of folding chairs had been rented out. They leaned against the wall waiting to be unfolded. Having done this year in and year out for many years, it did not take Hermione very long to get the chairs exactly where they needed to be. She looked up at the clock, almost 8am. She could hear her parents readying their stations. The door chime sounded and Hermione looked up.
A tall, matronly woman of indeterminate middle age came in shaking some snow off her boots. She saw Hermione and smiled. "Hermione! Welcome back!"
"Gwen, it so good to be back," Hermione hugged Gwen tightly. Gwen had started as an assistant at the practice since before Hermione was born. After university, she had joined the practice as an associate dentist.
"You had better stay longer this time. I know you young people always go visiting amongst yourselves but we miss you too, you know."
"I don't have a single visit planned so you're stuck with me."
"Good." Gwen kept an arm around Hermione's shoulder as they made their way to the offices. Gwen lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now, tell me, do you have a boyfriend at that school of yours? I've heard all about those Scotsmen and -"
"Gwen! Please!" Hermione's eyes swivelled about making sure her parents were well out of earshot. "I don't have a boyfriend."
"So what has put that spark in your eye then? You're usually right exhausted when you come for holidays. Look at you now." Gwen tilted Hermione's face to hers. "If it's not a boy, then it must be something."
"Or something," Hermione replied noncommitally.
"Animal, vegetable or mineral?"
Hermione giggled. "None of the above. Really, it's just this ... this project I'm involved in and I -"
The door chimed again. Both Hermione and Gwen straightened expecting to greet some patients. But their efforts were not required. A blond young man of about twenty came in carrying several bags. From the scent wafting from the bags it was a good bet that it was the promised food from next door. Behind the young man, a small girl maybe about seven or eight closed the door firmly. Recognizing the young man, Hermione stepped forward a few steps and motioned towards the small table in the corner. Atop the table was a large urn of coffee and another with hot water for tea.
"Morning, Gwen, Hermione! Pap asked me to drop this off. I think this will be a good start for everyone." The young man dropped off his bundles and stood all arms and hanging elbows grinning at Hermione. The girl stood shyly behind him.
"Clive! Mum said you were stuck at uni." Hermione hugged him lightly friend to friend.
"I was but Pap put the call out that he needed help at the bakery so here I am."
Hermione looked at the young girl peeking out from behind Clive. "Oh, this is Mary." Hermione kneeled down making sure to make eye contact with the girl. "Hi, Mary. I missed seeing you last year. Do you remember me - Hermione? I used to babysit you when your parents were away. I used to tell you stories and play games, remember?"
The girl was small for her age and barely looked over six even though she was closer to eight than six. Her thin lips quirked into a little half smile. She skipped towards Hermione and wrapped her spindly arms around Hermione's neck. "Miny!"
"Close enough." Hermione picked Mary up in her arms. Her eyes grew wide at the too light weight. Her eyes sought out Clive for reassurance but none were forthcoming. Clive shook his head imperceptively. She put Mary down gently. "Well, you're a big girl now so you can help me, all right?"
"Sure. What should I do?"
Gwen came to the rescue. She had been poking about the bags and held some paper plates and napkins aloft. "Here, Mary. Why don't you open up these up. When someone comes by you give them a plate and a napkin. Oh, don't forget the fork!"
"That sounds like fun. It's like playing dinner party!"
"Exactly. We're going to have loads of people so we're really going to need your help, pip." Gwen brushed a stray of brown hair off Mary's forehead and tucked it once more behind her ear. As her hand brushed against the pale skin, her trained medical eyes could not miss the telltale signs of ill health - skin stretched so tight that one could almost see the very bones in her face, too pale pallor that no sun could darken and, worse, the shadow of pain in her too young eyes. Hermione discreetly wiped a tear from her eye before Mary could see anything amiss. "Clive, Mary can stay here most of the day if she likes."
"Yes, that would be best. It's beastly in the kitchens right now."
"Well, if you three can handle things here, I'll go prepare my station." Gwen stood up and started walking back towards the back. "Hermione, some dental students will be coming by to assist today. Just show them in the back will you?"
As Mary busied herself with her assigned task, Hermione pulled Clive off to a small back room ostensibly to help her get something from a high shelf. "I thought her treatments were working." She said softly.
"That's what we thought too." Clive sighed. "The doctors found out that the cancer's spread."
"How ,.. where?"
"Lymphatic system. " Hermione held her arms open to him. Without further words Clive accepted the comfort she offered.
"There has to be something ... some treatment to try ... other kinds of chemotheraphy."
"No, no more treatments. They've all been stopped."
"What? It might be her only chance, Clive."
"When is enough, enough?" Clive pulled out of Hermione's arms and stood with his back to her. He shoved his hands in his pockets."The treatments were so painful for her. She'd cry and cry all night long. She vomited more than she ate. There were days she could barely move."
"Chemotheraphy doesn't work when its interrupted and -"
"She's just a little girl. She's not a pincushion. She's not something to try treatment after treatment on. She's my little sister, Hermione." Clive turned around and looked at her. Her arms were crossed and her expression spoke of worry mixed with obstinate disagreement. "I see you don't understand."
"You're right I don't. As long as there is a chance, that chance should be fought for, explored, exploited."
"Hermione, if she were older I would agree. But she's only eight and you saw how she is. She's not strong enough. She's given it all she has."
"You've given up then." It was not a question.
"We've given up our blind hopes that a cure is out there for her." Clive sighed deeply. He walked about the small storage room. "Mum has stopped working at the bakery to spend every moment with Mary. I've stopped university for a while to save money. Father and I have night jobs to pay for the bills. It may look like we've given up and maybe we have. But wouldn't you, in my place, rather have the time with Mary than no time at all because you were too busy looking for a cure? Sometimes you have to accept what is, what will be."
The silence stretched between them for a time. "How long?"
"The doctors say this will likely be her last Christmas."
Hermione sniffed once and then drew herself together with a deep breath. "I'll do what I can to help make this the best Christmas she's ever had. Whatever I can do."
"Thank you." Clive placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before leading the two of them out of the room. The door chime sounded again. It was the first patient of the day.
Several hours later, the waiting room was full to bursting. Children scuttled about happily in the small play area set up in one corner. The coffee and tea were flowing freely. The bread and treats were disappearing as fast as Clive could replace them. Mary, eyes shining and smile at the ready, split her time between the food table and playing with the younger children. Hermione kept a close eye on her from behind the front counter alert if Mary showed any discomfort or pain. She was making small care packages for the patients - pain killers, soft foods, vitamins, teething rings for those with youngsters, and, of course, plenty of toothpaste and toothbrushes.
Mary came up to Hermione leading a tousled haired boy of about six by the hand. "Miny, this is Jimmy. He says that St Nicholas isn't real. I keep telling him he is. Will you tell him so?"
Hermione looked first at Mary and then again at the expectant Jimmy then back to Mary again. "Well, Jimmy, there is a St Nicholas and -"
"Prove it!" said Jimmy.
"On Christmas day, you'll see your presents and then -"
"I want to see him now ... now." Jimmy pointed a fat, stubby finger at Mary. "She said you knew everything. She lied."
"I did not!" replied Mary hotly.
"She doesn't know him!"
"She does too!"
All right how does one conjure St Nicholas, without violating the law for underage magic and getting expelled, hmmm? Hermione separated the two miniature combatants before either could come to blows. One look at Mary's earnest face was all it took to convince Hermione that somehow, some way she had to do something. I am not disappointing Mary. She felt the charms hanging heavily on a pendant around her neck. Suddenly an idea came to mind. She excused herself quickly telling her father that she would be right back. As soon as she entered the storage room she took out her pendant.
She clutched one wishbringer coin tightly in her fist and said "The Eyrie. I need to be at the Eyrie by my desk. I wish to be at the -"
She was expecting a rushing sensation or the feeling of whirling motion one experiences when traveling by floo. She didn't expect nothing but that is exactly what she got. She opened her eyes and she was at Hogwarts by her desk in the Eyrie. There was no disorientation nor any vague feeling of physical uneasiness. She had simply appeared. She left the Eyrie at a run heading for the headmaster's office.
By good happenstance she saw the headmaster and Professor Flitwick talking in hushed tones in one of the corridors. She changed direction and headed towards them. "Sir, professor -"
"Ms. Granger, how did you - " Dumbledore began.
Hermione waved her pendant in the air in answer. "I need your help, sir."
"What's happened? Has there been someone hurt?" Flitwick asked.
"I need a Saint Nicholas." Hermione took a few lungfuls of air before continuing. "Let me explain. Every year my parents host a free service week when free service is given out to the those who need it. Well, there's one child that doesn't believe in ... in St Nicholas and one who does. For the sake of the children, I was wondering, if one of you could come and be him. I know it sounds silly but it -"
Dumbledore laughed and winked at Flitwick. "I suppose I could do my part."
"You already have the beard, Albus. Can you use one of St Nicholas' helpers, Ms. Granger?"
"Yes! Thank you. You don't how much this means." Hermione grinned enthusiastically at the two of them.
"I do believe that we will enjoy this more than the children will, Ms. Granger. Oh, it has been awhile since I've done anything like this. Filius, I think we need to conjure some presents first."
"Give me a minute."
Dumbledore peered down his spectacles at Hermione. "Unless I am mistaken that wishbringer is one way, is it not?"
"I believe so, sir."
"Very well. Let us return via the floo in my office." Dumbledore whirled about suddenly and Sir Nicholas appeared at his side. "Sir Nicholas please inform Professor McGonagall that I and Professor Flitwick will be leaving the castle briefly. We will be returning before dinner."
The ghost drifted down the corridor while the others walked quickly to the headmaster's office.
There were no delightful squeals or peals of laughter when the two figures came into the room only the chiming of the door. Instead there was silence sublime and complete. The older man stroked his long beard and tamped his crozier upon the floor impatiently. The elf beside him slung the large bulky bag over his shoulder and smiled benevolently at all.
"Well, I have indeed found the children I have been looking for," said the old man with blue eyes twinkling brightly. The children were frozen in place. "I was looking for all the children who have been good this year but I found that I have missed so many since my day. Have you all been good?"
All those below a certain age, and even some above, bobbed their heads in eager agreement. Their eyes watched as St. Nicholas made his way into the center of the room. "I was told that there were two children who wanted to meet me. Where are Mary and Jimmy?"
Mary glanced at Hermione briefly before she stood up and raised her hand. Her smile was so bright it could have lit up Picadilly Square all on its own. "Here I am. I'm Mary."
A whimper near his feet made Dumbledore glance down at the little boy desperately trying to look small and inconspicuous. "And you, young man, must be Jimmy." Jimmy was scooped up and made to stand straight. Dumbledore extended a hand to the young boy. "See, feel my hand, it's real isn't it?"
The little boy cautiously touched his hand. A beatific smile appeared on his face. Dumbledore held out his arms and enfolded Jimmy in a quick hug. "Now, how about I tell you a story and then we'll see about presents."
A collective hue and cry of "Presents!" and "A Story!" filled the room. The children ran about the room finding places to sit down or perch themselves on. Dumbledore held his hand out towards Mary. "Come, Mary, you can sit on my lap while we read."
Professor Flitwick stood to the side of the armchair. "What story shall it be?"
Mary's quiet voice rang out before any of the others "The Night Before Christmas, please."
Flitwick turned his back and made a great show of rummaging through the large knapsack. Saying a quick spell, a book of stories appeared in his hand. After Dumbledore sat down, he handed the book to him opened on the famous poem.
Mary laid back into Dumbledore's arms a sweet smile upon her lips. Her fingers shyly touched a strand or two of his beard.
Dumbledore rumbled. "I can assure you, my dear, that it is real."
"I knew you were real."
"And how did you know that?"
"Because Miny said so. She used to say that ... that I didn't have to see you to know you were real. But it is nice to see you, too." The words so sweetly and faithfully said was heard throughout the room. Behind Hermione, her mother gave her daughter's shoulder a squeeze. Hermione for the second time that day wiped a tear from her eye then flashed a smile at Mary.
The headmaster looked at all the children all around him. Some were sprawled on the floor, some were cosseted in their parents' arms while others simply looked happy to see him. He smiled back at all of them. Then in a strong and soothing voice reminding one of cold nights wrapped in blankets by a roaring fire, Albus Dumbledore began to read.
"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung ..."
Author's Note: Special thanks to Stellar Snape for encouragement and sweetevangeline for the nudge regarding a Christmas chapter. I rarely see a rounded picture of Hermione's muggle life that doesn't include a murder, torture or some other grisly event, so I've tried to incorporate a bit of what I think her normal life is like in the muggle world.
JustCantGetEnough - I sincerely hope that you finished your paper. Have passed 135,000 words so far. All in one book methinks.
Riolist - Yes, I do seem to lose readers anywhere from chapter 1 to 10. There's a lot of info and in order to build the suspense I had to be a bit vague. Judicious editing should make things sharper. Thanks for sticking with it.
Astarael - Live kill can refer to a predator species' preference to kill its own food. For ex, some species won't eat anything that isn't moving, still warm or killed in front of them.
Childofnite - It is SS/HG when all is said and done. They just have to, ah, find their way first.
Coral dragon - Mrs. Weasley is always shown in context with others like kids and the Order but nothing about her relationship with her own husband.
Cassandra - A woman after my own heart. Not abandoned just have a rather hectic real world life right now.
Andromache - You're right about the 'Professor Snape' address. Definitely hard to make her frustration real and balanced because she is always shown to be very confident and capable, or at least that's the side that the world sees. I didn't think she was the type to get weepy and tear her hair out either.
To all reviewers and readers, thank you and please enjoy!
mavidian