Mistletoe was poisonous, that's what Alison had said as she hung it over every threshold she could find, in every room all over the house, that if eaten anyone could die, or if touched in a weird way, not really sure herself what she meant by that, but the point was still there. Mike didn't think it was necessary to have thirty all over, one or two was more than enough, but her argument was unbeatable "It's a ghost thing". It wasn't, Fanny didn't want that thing in every door and Mary thought it was work of the devil, hanging a poisonous plant everywhere, but Alison meant well, she actually was hoping a kiss or two might happen during the night.

All the presents were given, and carols were sang, Mike had to force his family to join in after a few solos with Alison, not knowing the ghosts were performing as a choir ready for the X-factor, the bottle of wine and the eggnog gone by then. Soon the ghosts started to retire, too many emotions and plans for tomorrow, Mike's sisters and parents biding them goodnight after the last carol and slice of spotted dick, completely drained. Close to midnight the only people left were Alison and Mike who sat close to the window just watching the snow falling, in the background and close to the fire Mary, Fanny and Kitty sat on the sofa chatting lightly about nonsense as to pass the time. Interrupting their conversation Alison wished them a happy Christmas and a goodnight and left with Mike trotting tiredly behind speaking lazy words looking up at the ceiling, he really thought ghosts levitated, Kitty jumping of the couch and following like a merry pet that only hoped to be able to sit close to their loved ones, excited words vanishing in the distance after a few minutes, the sound of a door closing meeting a comfortable silence.

All alone at last Mary rested her head on Fanny's shoulder, her fingers travelling to get a hold of her hand, just tapping and twirling in between her sleeve and fingers. It was a lovely night, quiet, cosy, homely inside the house, layers of fresh snow accumulating all over the county. This would be their first Christmas together, officially together, and although everything was new, they weren't nervous about the holidays, they had been getting to know each other for months, telling each other about their lives, who they met, what they used to do, dreams, hopes, nightmares and painful remainders. After Fanny's outburst a few months ago, they had slowly gone through every bit of her past, tears and fights happened sometimes, but didn't last long. Mary had talked about herself and family too, and was giving small details about her trial but hadn't still talked about it, and Fanny was not about to push her, so they just sat there, looking at the fire quite content to just be with each other.

-Why's so important to has a tree in the house?

-Oh… It's just tradition. We've always had a good tree in Button house, and I didn't want it to be forgotten. You saw what Alison brought, it was but a bush, a disgrace.

-It was small, but… cute.

-Maybe for a bedroom or an office, not for the entire house. No, a fine mansion such as this requires a spectacular tree, and for this one I'm very grateful to Michael's father.

-We didn'ts have this. We would has a small dinner, pray and say thank you and go to bed to wake up and work on the fields. We trys to give the little ones something, like dolls made of rags or-

-Little ones? – Fanny stopped staring at the fireplace to look at Mary, who seemed rather calm and composed, quite relaxed in her arms.

-Yeah. Little Willy and Joan. They was very young when the illnesses got them. My sweet little babes didn't makes it through winter before me husband passed. They would coughs and coughs until one night they stopped, and the Lord tooks 'hem. My husband slipped on ice and died not long after. They thoughts I had done it.

-Who?

-The villagers.

-Mary, did they… if you don't want to tell me it's alright… Did they judge you because of…? The trial was because of this?

-Well… They thoughts I had given 'hem to the Devil and I trieds to tell them, but no one listened. It was the illness, not me. They didn'ts care at all.

-I'm so sorry. It must have been so hard for you to have to go through all that on your own.

-It was. It really was. I tooks care of all of them until their last breath, buried them and tried to keeps going so the land wouldn't go to waste, but they thought it be strange and so they came. In the night.

-Okay, that's enough for today, it's Christmas and-

-They came in the night, like an army of shadows with torches and pitchforks, screaming witch, witch. – Fanny's words hadn't been heard, Mary was too far away from the land of the dead, as if she was reliving everything all over again, her eyes glazed, staring at nothing. -They broke the door and tooks me from my bed, throwing me over a donkey. It was cold, so very cold and windy and the voices of the people were yelling and screaming that I needed be burned were so loud, too loud, but they put me in a stone house, and I waited. I don't knows how long I was there, but it was long. Others there were visited, but not me, until one morning I was pulled out. They had… The had dug up my family and were showings them as proof that I be a witch. They were so thin, I has forgotten how much they hasn't eaten, their skin purple and blue. I trieds to close me eyes, but they made me look for hours as the spoke and judge me. People I thoughts were friends accused me of having stolen animals from their houses, that I had talked in something that wasn't English, and my drawings. They said they be witchcraft and burned them in fronts of me, but they were not. I'm not a bad witch Fanny! I swear I'm not! – the agitations on Mary's voice and limbs caused her to stim in anxious movements, a terrified look on her face as if she was seeing her, but they weren't in Button house. Mary kneeled in front of her, crying and begging her to believe her, her body moving erratically on the floor, her hands shaking as they were stinging. – I be not a bad witch! I dids nothing, please, believe me. I has always been faithful, I does not be a servant of the Devil. Please, Fanny, please, don't lets 'hem burn me! Please! I be not powerful enough, please, I don'ts want to die! PLEASE!

Her cries were muffled by Fanny's chest as she held on to Mary, speaking soothing words trying to calm her down. The smoke that was surrounding them was thick and black, and it filled Fanny's lungs like she was breathing sand, tears filling her eyes as she coughed, but didn't let go of her. The fire in the chimney vanished, leaving the room in a soft darkness only broken by the light coming from the outside. Mary's body shook with each sob, her brain still bringing the memories back, the harsh words and lies, how the bodies of her family were mistreated, pushed about, poked and thrown; her remedies had been worthless to bring them back to health, but had helped to bring them to a peaceful rest. She had held her children feeling how they were leaving her, but only smiled down and sang to them, as they wished, smiling back weakly at her, soon the candle gave out, and she remained like that, singing until only cold silence had filled the room. The moment a cold wind had passed through her she knew it was over, and gently laid them down, tucked them in and continued to sing, tears spilling, her chest constricted as she tried to hold onto what little she had left. Joseph, her husband had left to visit his brother who had just had a child and wouldn't be back for another few days if the weather allowed it, so she had had to get the priest and accompany her children to their last resting place. The house was quiet and cold, disturbing and filled with such pain that Mary had thought about leaving, but she couldn't, the land was still to be prepared for the spring, and more children would have to be born to sustain her family, she couldn't lay back and grief as much as she wanted or needed.

The sound of a horse made her stand and walk outside, a candle lighting up the figure of her husband. Once glance at her face and he dropped to his knees and cried, Mary holding him as he cursed and screamed, her heart breaking even more. The next morning, he didn't dare look at her, and she knew why: he had hoped she would be able to safe them, but her supplies were low, and as much as she had tried it hadn't been enough, and he blamed her for it, she blamed herself for it. She was far from perfect but had always considered herself rather good with plants and flowers, she had been told form a very young age that she had a gift, her mother had always called it that and refused to choose another term, but as Mary had grown older, she learned as to why. A gift is a godsend, something people could even call a skill, but in Mary it had always been more than that, it was witchcraft, and that was the Devil at work. Joseph loved her and had admired her gift ever since they had been children, she was a healer, but now he thought it to be a curse, a useless power that had done nothing for his children, he almost seemed to forget that they were Mary's as well in his own pain. She lost faith in herself in just a few weeks, and slowly had retreated into herself, resenting everything she had ever done or been, until one freezing morning she had accompanied her husband to the barn to milk the cows. Before entering she looked at her right and saw one of the chickens outside in the snow-covered soil and had hurried to pick her up before she froze to death, leaving her husband to attend to his business in silence. A big racket reached her ears as she put the chicken back in its cage and ran all the way back to the barn pushing the door open. The water had leaked and froze on the floor overnight causing him to slip and fall on the pitchfork. Mary screamed, she could feel her throat raw even now, and had rushed to his side, but it was no use, by the amount of blood he was expelling he would only last a few minutes. She had begged him to hold on, that she would find a way to fix this, but he knew better than to make her believe her own lie and had pulled himself off it and held onto her hand, apologising for not being there, saying a last I love you as a small trickle of blood escaped his lips.

Fanny knew there would be bruises where Mary was holding onto her, fingers digging onto her flesh even over her clothes, the smoke still around them, but refused to let go. She kept on talking to her even though she knew that Mary was far away, and she couldn't bring her back or didn't know how to but knew better than to leave her. She wouldn't become George and wouldn't leave her love alone when she was clearly hurting. In her own nightmare Mary was staring at the coffin of her husband, her expression blank, undisturbed, neutral as they put him down next to their babies, a thunderstorm coming fast towards them, but she didn't care, she watched as they covered his grave and the priest prayed for his soul, a feeling of déjà vu running down her spine. In a monotonous pace she made her way back to the house, the wood creaking, the air cold and dead. Her trunk was almost empty except for a few more dried leaves and roots, dust and webs covering the empty holes and jars. Anger rose inside her chest, fury at her own self for not having learned when she had had to the opportunity how to be a proper witch, the books laid underneath the floorboards forgotten. She ripped them out, throwing them across the room, tears flowing freely as she cursed and screamed, but soon she grew tired, and just kneeled on her broken floor, holding on to her apron. Looking up she saw one of the books laid open in front of her, words about love, curses and magic written all over the thick worn-out pages, elaborated drawings decorating them.

She had never really learned to read, missed her opportunity back when she refused to learn in favour of helping her family with the lands. Looking at them she realised what a huge mistake that had been. With a snaping sound the pages caught on fire, flames devouring them in just a few seconds in front of her perplexed eyes without giving her much room for her to safe them. Even in the darkness of the house a thick shadow of anger and pain covered her face, leaving it unfeatured over the broken floor, ashes falling around the crevasses of the wood. She didn't know for how long she had been sitting there, minutes turned to hours, silence filling every pore, but in the background she could have sworn a voice was talking to her but the words were so quiet she couldn't really make out what they were saying, not that she really cared. The field spent several days waiting for Mary, but she never came, her strength was gone and just the thought of heading to the barn and witnessing the blood was too much for her to bear, she just spent her days inside the house, lightning up the candles with her fingers, defrosting the bedsheets with just one snap. All alone allowed her to see if she still had it in her and whether she could actually do more than what she had spent her life doing, but in the night, right after she had settled for the night once more footsteps broke the silence, Mary's eyes snapping open, listening as they became more and stronger, they sounded almost angry, but she couldn't bring herself to stand. Suddenly silence met her once more and she decided to close her eyes in hopes she would be able to sleep, but the door was opened with such force that the wood snapped and a group of men burst in, torches and pitchforks in some of their hands as they grabbed Mary. Their fingers dug onto her skin, her throat raw from not having spoken in days as she screamed for them to let her go, but they didn't listened, tied her instead onto the back of a donkey, the wind blowing strongly on her face, women and men looking at her as if she were a freak in a circus, insults and hash words reaching her ears as they made their way to the village.

Fanny could not make head or tail of the random words Mary was speaking, the only thing she was sure of was that wherever she was she was fighting someone from the way she was moving in her arms, hands slapping and grabbing her silk dress, ripping the seams as she pulled to escape her grasp, but she didn't let go. The screams woke some of the ghosts, the Captain included, and as he entered the room he witnessed Mary's glazed eyes and the face of utter terror on her ash covered features. Fanny's worried look made him stop right on his tracks, looking at them not sure as what to do to help except for forbidding anyone from entering the room.

-Fanny?

-Leave. Theodore, go.

-What's going on? Why is Mary… Do you need me to call Alison?

-No. Don't trouble her. I'm not quite sure, but we can't do anything but wait it all out.

-NO! I DIDN'TS DO IT! YOU KNOWS ME! TELL THEM MATILDA!

-What?

-She's been speaking like this for twenty minutes now. Theodore, listen to me, go.

-Absolutely not, what if she hurts you?

-I'm dead.

-Oh, right, still, what if she does something and you are all alone?

-I DON'TS! I BE NO SERVANT OF DEVIL'S! I'M GOOD! WAIT! WAIT! WAIT!

-Ahhh!

-Fanny!

Her hands felt like they were on fire, forcing her to let go of Mary as big thick clouds of black smoke surrounded Mary, orange lights coming from within, falling backwards over the carpet. The Captain rushed to her and helped her sit as he checked her blistered hands, tears of pain running down her cheeks. Mary stared as the priest took hold of the parchment where her sentence was written, showing it to everyone that surrounded her as she was tied to the stake, utter fear and horror filling her chest. Her friends were crying, but didn't utter a word in her favour, she truly believed they thought she had done it; defeated the only thing she could do was beg, but all her words landed on deaf ears, the smell of fire reaching her nostrils from behind, the urge to escape becoming so primitive the ropes were digging onto her wrists and ankles, but it was too late. The fire spread quickly all around her, smoke making her eyes water, coughing over and over, oxygen becoming increasingly more difficult to breath. Her head felt foggy, lightheaded, her vision blurry as the figures became just colours. Her voice was gone at this point although she continued to scream, but soon enough the feeling of tiredness took over, her eyes closing slowly, and everything went dark and silent. When she opened her eyes, she was standing on the stake, the wood gone, turned to ashes. Not understanding what was wrong she took one step, then another, everyone was gone from the forest except for a figure that stood in between the trees. The force of a pair of hands grabbing her by her hands caused her to yell, a thick fog around her as the figure came closer and closer, a sweet female voice trying to talk with her until she was face to face with Fanny, utter terror on her face, calling her name. The pain in her hands was unbearable, but Mary was out of control, fire starting to come out of her hands onto the carpet. Slowly her surroundings became clearer, the living room filled with black smoke as she managed to grasp onto what was wrong. The memories where far too vivid still.

-Mary? – she couldn't find her voice all of a sudden, just stared at Fanny with wide open eyes. – Mary, can you hear me?

-Mary, are you with us?

-I…

-Just nod if you can hear me. Good, that's it. Okey, can you stand?

-We should tell Alison to open the windows.

-Don't worry about that right now Theodore. Help me hold her.

-Fa… Fanny…

-What is it? Do you need anything? Are you okey?

-Fanny, what… what happened?

-Long story. Are you okey?

-Yes. I thinks so.

-Alright. Can you walk? You should get some air.

-Okey. Dids I do something?

-No, don't fret.

-But Fanny, your…

-I'm perfectly alright Theodore. Mary didn't do any harm at all, now, did she?

-Ohhh. Of course, Mary, everything is perfectly alright. You are just a bit shaken.

-I… Fanny… I didn'ts do it. You knows I didn't.

-Of course I know. It was the illness, you said so yourself.

-I trieds to help, but I be not strong enough. I should has been taught.

-Let's get you outside, come on.

-I be not a bad witch. You believe me, not?

-Mary, listen, you have been through something very traumatic, let's wait until you more or less are back to your normal self.

-Aun… I mean Fanny, do you think we should wait? Remember Humphrey or Kitty, it's not good to hold things.

-I will not have Mary talk about her past so soon after this incident. If she has reacted this way Lord knows how she could react if we forced her to speak once more. I don't ask you about the war, do I?

-That's different. I didn't fight, but Mary…

-That will be enough young man. I said no, and it shall remain as such until I think she's ready, if she ever is. You didn't hear her scream for mercy the way I did, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even George. Have I made myself understood?

-Yes, aunty.

-Good.

-Aunty? You two are related? – from the other side of the banister Alison and the other ghosts were staring, Kitty and Pat incredibly worried. – The smell woke me up. What happened? Why is Mary so pale? What the hell?

-Don't trouble yourself Alison, we have everything under control.

-Really? Doesn't look like that to me? You two are related?!

-Yes, is not that important Alison. He's my aunt's grandson, but I always let him call me aunt.

-No wonder you two are so… similarly weird. He must have been a child when you passed.

-He was very young, yes, but it doesn't matter at the moment.

-Fanny's right, we have a… ghost thing going on that must be solved at once.

-This is not just a ghost thing. The entire house smelled like it was on fire.

-Hmm. – Mary's hands grabbed onto Fanny's dress, a grimace on her face. The blisters on her hands were slowly disappearing, but the cloud of utter confusion over their heads was thick and becoming bigger as they tried to protect her from everyone's questions. Why couldn't they shut up, couldn't they see how much pain they were causing Mary?

-SILENCE! All of you! Mary, darling, where do you want to go?

-I… I don'ts know.

-Okey, let's go outside for a bit to clear everyone's head, is that alright?

A nod was all she received. Both women moved in slow steps towards the main entrance, no one dared to follow. As Mary moved towards the outside so did the smell, the house free of smoke in under five seconds as if nothing had happened, questions floating in the air. If they had been alive the feeling of the snow on their skin would have made them shiver uncontrollably, but the wind and fresh air were now welcome. The seams of Fanny's dress were completely ripped leaving her freckled skin exposed, Mary seemed to be focusing on that, her eyes following every little beauty mark she could find as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. Everything had been so vivid, so real. She hadn't thought of them in almost 400 years and at the same time she hadn't stopped at all, they were in the back of her head always. Her hands were warm, spreading heat like a fire as her fingers traced patterns over Fanny's exposed skin, grounding herself. Lady B wanted to speak, wanted to ask her so many questions, but didn't know how to tackle this, she hadn't been allowed back when she had been younger to ask anything that wasn't what her mother had considered "lady like". Such a waste. Thankfully she didn't need to as Mary lifted her head to look into her baby blue eyes, the only constant she seemed to find in her mind, the love she felt for her, she wasn't sure of what was real and what was a memory, but she was certain that Fanny was there, her soft flesh beneath her fingers, she was real and so was what she felt for her. She was madly in love with her and at the moment it felt right, the only clear thing in her mind. She had never intended to hide anything from her, but the fear was too great, had been too much and she couldn't escape from its grasp, she had been alone with her own thoughts, drowning, until a hand had pulled her from the freezing waters. She could forget everything she had ever lived both in death and life as long as Fanny remained in her heart forever, she was enough.

-How are you feeling?

-Better. I hurt you, didn'ts I?

-Nothing that couldn't be fixed. I'm perfectly fine now.

-I'm sorry.

-Whatever for?

-If I hads done things differently, if I hads been better…

-You wouldn't be here, with me. It might sound selfish, but I wouldn't change anything from our pasts.

-I'm sure you knows by now, you are smart.

-Know what?

-What I be.

-You are Mary, nothing more and nothing else unless you want to be more. Do you?

-I was so scared they would find out, and… what good dids it do? I was killed anyway.

-I'm sorry you went through that, and we can't change the past, believe me, I've tried, but now things are different. People like you or me would have been hanged back in my day, and nowadays they can get married and have a life, just like everyone else, because being different doesn't make you bad. No one is going to hurt you if you want to be your true self Mary. I love you either way, and I won't leave you.

-I… I be a witch. – both knew what she was, but she needed to say it. It felt liberating in a way to say who she was, what she had been hiding her entire life and death and it felt right to say it to her. Her smile didn't falter, her eyes didn't sparkle with hate or worry and her stand didn't shake, she was still there looking at her as if she were the only one in the entire world.

-I know, dear.

-You… really don't minds? At all?

-No. Maybe you can light candles with your fingertips, or transform cups into frogs, but you are still the same Mary we all know and love. You are still my Mary. – God, it felt wonderful, she felt light as air, a happiness she had never felt blooming in her chest as Fanny's hand took hold of hers, the other one cherishing her cheek wiping with her thumb the tears she hadn't noticed were falling from her eyes.

-I'm dead, I can't learns now how to… be me. I don'ts know if I can do it now, maybe I lost my powers.

-We can try if you really want to. You and me, and maybe the Captain or Pat, but not Julian, let's leave him out of this.

-Okey, I likes that.

-Do you know any small little trick that you use to do when you were younger?

-I don'ts know… Well… There's one. I don'ts know if it will work, but…

She let go of her, clasping her hands in front of Fanny, staring at them with such concentration, such perfection. Inside her it felt like a rush of excitement and energy was flowing through her veins making her feel… alive. Fanny felt the energy shift around them, it was exhilarating, something new she had never imagined possible. Mary was at peace with her own soul at last, she could see it in her features, a comfortable breeze embracing them as Mary lifted her gaze and opened her eyes, staring into Fanny's eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, a gasp escaping from her pink lips as she saw the brightest blue she had ever seen in her life, not even in those expensive fabrics she had seen in the shops, no, nothing could compare to the life emanating from Mary's eyes, it's as if that shade hadn't existed on the faze of this Earth until Mary had opened them. Her hands unclasped revealing a small red dot, it was slightly disappointing, Fanny had expected something grandiose, until the little dot started growing in size revealing a beautiful deep red velvet rose in full bloom in between her palms. The feeling of disappointment vanished altogether as soon as Mary placed the flower in her own hands. It had been so long since she had felt the petals of a flower in between her fingers, the droplets of water falling on her palms, the sweet smell of a fresh rose, and all that had come from Mary, from her own bare hands. It was perfect and eternal.

-I can stills do it.

-Don't ever stop.

Her lips were so close, just an inch away from Mary's, it was torture until she closed the gap between them, crashing her mouth over hers earning a soft moan from Fanny, and for once she didn't regret it. Neither of them had ever felt so alive before, so ready to meet the world and fight. They were strong, so incredibly strong and everything was because of a rose. Mary's mind had calmed by now, all her thoughts were still, quiet, everything would be fine. Her husband had adored her gift and she would never say she hadn't loved him with her entire being, but four hundred years was more than enough time to make peace with ones inner demons, he would always hold a special place in her heart along with her children, her two little babies, but for once she was free to be who she had always been meant to be and with who she wanted. The kiss ended too quickly for their liking, but there would be time for more. The dress had miraculously fixed itself once more and Mary's smoke had vanished completely, but the snow was still there and so was the moon and their rose. Unconsciously Mary placed one arm around Fanny's waist as they watched the snow build up around them, the cold didn't bother them, her other hand resting on Fanny's tummy, the rose blooming even more as she did that, green leaves growing underneath. At last, on Christmas everything was perfect, no more painful memories from Fanny's bankrupt family or Mary's loses. It was just magical.