Anti-litigation Spell: Not my Universe, no financial gain made nor sought; anything you don't recognize is mine. OB-viously.
Asides: HEA, Christmas fluffishness, no warnings. Not Beta'd, just overly edited by the LOO.
THE CHRISTMAS OWL - A HOGWARTS HOLIDAY STORY
On the Road Back Home
It was a couple of weeks after the Christmas of 2007, and a small group of elves from the Provisions Department were sledging their way back to North Pole Proper with supplies. Arriving around the last curve of mountain road that fed down into the straightaway, they jerked their ponies to an abrupt halt. A small avalanche appeared to have rumbled down the side of Mount Nanoq while they'd been in town.
The head elf, Jimson, sighed as he pinched the bridge of his bulbous nose. Edging around the ice rubble would not be a problem. The extra time it would take to shift or crush ice boulders, though, that meant a significant delay. He was sure Mrs Claus would be rather cross. And it was never a good idea to let that happen. He sighed again and inspected the mountainside after eyeing the road ahead. When he was quite sure that everything that was going to fall had fallen, he stood up on his seat and called out to his crew.
"Alright, guys, let's get a move on... We'll only need to clear this 6-foot swath of rubble right here," he pointed, "And then we'll be able to squeeze by. Mirzam, you hand out tools to the big guys. Digit, you stay with the ponies and keep them calm, maybe back them up a bit, too. Caldo, since you have a way with words, would you please get a message to Mrs Claus? I'm sure she doesn't wanna hear from MY grumpy ol' arse, thanks. Everyone else pairs up, two's and three's. Mirzam, you're in charge of shovelling the smaller stuff, Tenor, you work with the groups." He turned to jump down and stopped. "Wait!" he yelled, holding up his hands, "Where are those two young troublemakers... Prell? Cam? I need one of you on this side of the rubble and the other one over there," he pointed. "You need to keep your eyes on the mountainside, yes? The slide may have loosened rubble in the middle, too. If you see anything beginning to move, holler 'Slide!' so that we can get out of the way. You got that?" He eyed them both fiercely, and they both nodded vigorously in return. Jimson jumped down off the sleigh, grabbed his pickax, and the industry began.
Twenty minutes later, a squeaky yet loud voice yelled, "Slide!" and elves scattered. They all looked up to see one large ice boulder barreling down the side of Mount Nanoq, its size chipping down with every bounce. It landed in a soft snowbank with a loud 'floop' at the edge of the rubble, followed by a small shower of gravel and ice pieces. When it became apparent that nothing else was falling, work continued. Jimson walked over to the modest-sized ice boulder, pickax in hand, bent on smashing it into smaller chunks that could be driven over the side of the road but paused. Leaning down, he brushed snow and ice chips from the boulder's surface and stared. Then he stood and hollered, "Prell!"
"Yes, sir?" squeaked Prell.
"Can you lift this?" At the young elf's fervent nodding, Jimson smiled. "Good. I want you to carry this back to the sleigh and find a place for it with the cargo, eh?" More nodding. "And Prell? Good job back there, son," he said, clapping the young elf on the shoulder before walking away.
Prell leaned down to wrap his arms around the boulder, then squeaked and fell back onto his bum. "Geebs!" he gulped, "Tha-, that boulder's staring at me!" After eyeing it for a moment, he crawled back over to look down at the dark owl frozen inside the boulder, clutching a letter in its frigid claws. "Geebs!" he whispered again. And picking up the block of ice with a grunt, he trudged carefully towards the back of the sleigh.
The North Pole
Mrs Claus looked up as Jimson walked in through the kitchen door carrying an enormous, dripping sack over his shoulder. "Are those my supplies, Jims?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Nope. Still being unloaded," he grumbled. He shook the sack. "This'n's for the old man, Missus," he shrugged, "But you might wanna take a look, too, kinda interesting. Also, we'll need a giant bowl, maybe an ice pick too, and some towels," Jimson announced. He stomped out of the kitchen, heading towards the sitting room.
Mrs Claus laughed and, shaking her head, she pulled out her most massive stoneware mixing bowl and filled it with some old towels from the pantry; she tossed in an ice pick on her way out. Hefting the heavy bowl onto her hip, she called down the hall for her husband as she left the kitchen. "Nick! Jims is back, and he's brought us a mystery. We're in the sitting room..."
As she and Jims made their way down the hall, no one noticed as a tiny kitten fell through the kitchen cat-flap with a splat. She lay where she'd landed for a few seconds, then sat up and shook the ice out of her little paws. Then the kit twitched her overly large tufted ears, gave her damp fur a vigorous shake and silently followed the magic down the long hallway.
By the time the kitten made it into the sitting room, Jims had set the melting boulder inside the crockery on the hearth, and Mrs Claus was on her knees gazing at the frozen owl clutching a letter.
The owl blinked.
"My word! It's alive!" exclaimed Mrs Claus, flinching, then leaning in to peer closely again. "Nick! Nick! Get in here! We need you!" Nick rushed into the room after hearing his wife's unexpected, urgent tone and stopped, surprised, in front of the large bowl. "It's alive, Nick! Get it out of there!"
Nick bent down on one knee and ran a finger down the side of the ice boulder, causing the ice to melt instantaneously. The bowl on the hearth was now full of ice water and an awkwardly flapping owl.
Now, everyone knows that Santa is not a wizard, but he does possess several kinds of practical, occupational magics. One of these magics is called Glacierium, or the power to control ice. Comes in pretty handy when you live at the North Pole, as you must know.
When the bird calmed and ceased flinging water everywhere, Mrs Claus gently pulled it onto her lap and covered it with towels, rubbing gently. Nick immediately saw the letter it clutched. He looked the owl in the eye and said, "I am Santa... Is that letter for me?" Unsurprised, Nick saw the owl nod and weakly attempt to hold out its leg. He quickly reached down to help and gently released the letter from her stiff claws.
The damp envelope appeared to be actual parchment and the address was written in heavy black ink. The writing was as clear and unfaded as the day it was written. Carefully releasing the missive from its envelope, he waved it in front of the fire for a while to dry it out, the owl watching him seriously as he did so. Santa glanced at the name on the letter and looked back at the owl. "Are you Minnie's owl?" he asked. Seated on the hearth next to Mrs Claus and ruffling her feathers, the owl hooted softly. "It may have been a very long time since she sent this letter, do you think you can help me find her again?" Again the owl hooted, giving a nod. "Well, alright then... I think it's time I read Minnie's letter," he said brightly.
"What a strange little owl she is, " Mrs Claus murmured, stroking the soft owls head. "I believe she is a Melanistic Ural, female, rather young. And she reminds me of those odd kittens in the barn. They're so very watchful and smart, just like this little owl." She scritched the owl's neck with a gentle finger, and it leaned into her touch and closed its eyes, chittering softly.
As Nick was settling into his chair with the letter, he noticed one of the strange barn kittens coming out from under a chair by the door. "Well, hello there! When did you get here, little one?" The kit flicked him a short glance but continued to pad slowly towards the owl.
"Oh, dear," Mrs Claus murmured, "Do you think we're going to have a problem here?" Jimson, who had silently been sitting off to the side after stoking the fire, started to stand, but Nick stopped him with a raised hand.
"I don't believe there will be a problem, my dear," he stated calmly. "I think the kit recognizes something familiar about the owl... No, no, not the owl itself, of course, but these kinds of owls have their own kind of magic, just like the barn kittens. The kitten seems to be recognizing a fellow magical creature." Mrs Claus and Jims looked at him quizzically, but he just smiled and motioned at the kitten.
It sat directly in front of the owl now, and the two were staring at one another. The kitten meowed loudly. The owl hooted back. And then the owl reached down and nibbled on the kits head, causing it to purr loudly.
"Well!" exclaimed Jims and Mrs Claus at the same time, looking at each other in surprise. As they all watched, the kitten stepped onto the hearth, curled up next to the owl and went to sleep. Hunkering down a bit, the owl leaned over and lay her head across the kits neck, closing her eyes contentedly.
"Amazing," Nick said, chuckling, and picked up the letter again and began to read.
"Dear Santa," Nick read aloud, "I don't know if you can help me but you are my last hope. I would really, really like a kitten for Christmas. Papa says we can't have pets. I think it's because I did something to the cat we had before when I was very, very small. Papa doesn't know I know this but I heard him arguing with Mummy. They told me our cat ran away but I think it died. If you could bring me my own kitten maybe Papa couldn't say no and I promise I will take good care of it forever and ever. Love, Minnie M, Caithness, Scotland. P.S. I am a witch. I probably shouldn't tell you that but, really, I'm pretty sure you aren't a muggle, so it's okay. I could not control my magic when I was little but now I can. Honest."
Jimson was confused and said so. "Why would a child say she was a witch? Is that what her parents called her or somethin'? That's not very nice..." Nick held up his hand again.
"No, Jims, I'm sure her parents are lovely. She was telling me she's a real witch. A magical being, not unlike this owl and that kitten. She probably carries a wand and went to a wizarding school as a child. Witches and wizards also send mail by owl. And our barn kittens? They are only half feline; the other half is most likely kneazle. Kneazles are magical creatures similar to a cat, but extraordinarily intelligent and intuitive. They're also very particular about who they befriend, too. Which means, Jims, that the little tabby kitten that has been following you? He's chosen you so you should probably get used to having him around," Santa said with a chuckle. He looked up and saw his wife smiling at him and Jimson looking a bit dumbstruck, muttering to himself. Nick smiled. "Jims, why don't you do me a favour and go check that the unloading and delivering of the supplies is getting done and I'll try and figure out what to do about little Minnie."
As Jims wandered from the room, looking quite unlike his brisk official self, Nick settled back into his chair, thinking hard. He'd noticed that there was no date on the letter, but by the ink and the feel of the parchment, he was pretty sure it was rather old. Nick glanced around for the bowl of boulder water; it had been pushed off the hearth behind his footstool. Nudging the stool to one side with his foot, he leaned over to swirl the water with his fingers. "Well, well, well," he smiled. Little Minnie, indeed!
"What is it, dear?" Mrs Claus asked from the chair next to him, handing him a towel to dry his hands.
"It appears," Nick explained, "That this water is from the 'Frigid Ten', those extraordinarily stormy Christmas seasons between 1915 and 1925 that gave us those incessant, icy windstorms. Little Minnie will be young no more. But!" he replied to his wife's pointed look, "It is not unusual for witches and wizards to live for 150 years or more, so hopefully we will find her alive and well and needing a kitten!"
Hogwarts, Heads Office
Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, sat at her desk writing a letter to Severus and Hermione Snape when arrival sounds came from her fireplace. As she wasn't expecting anyone and no one had floo-called ahead, she calmly reached for her wand as she looked up.
What she saw was an unknown, solidly built elderly gentleman standing in her fireplace. He wore mossy green corduroy pants stuffed into worn brown leather boots, an old denim barn coat lined in fur, an orange jumper over a plaid shirt and a knitted cap with a pompom atop his head. He was carrying a good-sized cardboard box in his leather-mittened hands, smiling expectantly at her.
There had been no evidence of the green floo-flare of floo powder, so her grip on her wand tightened as she stood. She raised her wand arm and flicked out a quick shield charm, asking curtly, "Who are you, and what is your business here?"
Nick smiled. "There really is no reason for that," he replied, giving her wand a short glance. "Are you Minnie M from Caithness, Scotland?"
Minerva blinked. Once. Twice. Her eyes flicked to the McGonagall tartan of his plaid shirt, and as she saw no reason to lie, she answered him. "I am Minnie to very few, sir, and I am from Caithness. Now, who are you and what is your business here?" she repeated, her wand still resolutely pointing in his direction as he stepped out onto the hearth.
"Excellent! Well, Minnie, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't believe me if I told you my name or my business, but you probably have a way to verify that I'm telling the truth...?" he queried in reply. Minerva gave him a quick nod and flicked her wand at a cabinet, causing a small vial of veritaserum to float out and hover in front of the odd man.
"Drink that, please, and then you may take a seat there," she said shortly, pointing at the chair closest to her desk.
He set his box on the hearth, drank as requested and placed the empty vial on her desk as he sat.
Minerva sat down as well but never took her wand off the man across from her. "Now. What are you doing here?"
"Responding to a letter that I believe was sent to me by you."
Minerva harrumphed.
"As I cannot lie, it might become clearer if you ask me again who I am," he said, smiling.
"Who are you, then?"
"I have many names in many places, Minnie, and though my wife calls me Nick, you would know me as Santa Claus."
Minerva's jaw dropped, and she stared. "You're Santa? The Santa?" He nodded seriously. Minerva's wand wavered as she massaged the middle of her forehead. "This cannot be...," she trailed off, looking back up at him.
"I can offer you some proof if you want," Nick began.
"I believe that I do want," she replied as she leaned back into her chair, wand now held loosely in her hand. "But one moment, please..." She non-verbally swirled a specialized revelio charm around the man and watched as his aura changed from blue to red and back again, finally settling on a lovely shade of purple. This charm established that he was neither wizard nor muggle but somewhere in between. Satisfied, she nodded at him, "Your proof, if you please."
"I will need to open your window..."
Minerva waved him towards the mullioned dormer, yet he did not rise. He made a small flourish towards the window, ending with an un-pinching motion with his fingers, and Minerva watched, amused, as the window opened quietly. A dark, black/brown owl hopped in and flew over to her desk, landing gracefully. The owl leaned down and nibbled on an antique bracelet on Minerva's left wrist, then stood peering at her, head tilted to one side.
"Do you recognize this owl? She seems to have recognized you..."
"I... It cannot be," she murmured again, staring at the owl. "Dorcha?" The owl hooted softly, bobbing her head, and hopped a little closer to Minerva, butting her hand with its soft, fluffy head. With a shaking hand, she reached up and scratched the owl on the back of its neck. Just like she used to do as a child. "How is this possible? Where has she been? And why, why is she still alive?!"
"As to why she is still alive, I thought that you would be able to tell me! I thought it must be some type of magical cryonic stasis, but as for where... I'm afraid that she has been frozen in ice all these many years. Recently, there was a small ice-avalanche nearby, and one of the elves noticed her inside a small ice boulder. The elves brought her to me, and Mrs Claus noticed her eyes blinking, so I quickly defrosted her. She was carrying this...," he said quietly, pulling the old letter from a pocket in his coat.
Minerva's eyes widened as Santa slid the letter across the desk towards her. "Up, Dor," she said quietly to the owl as she picked up the letter with shaky fingers. The owl obliged and fluttered up to her shoulder. Dor's eyes closed as she leaned against Minerva's head while she read her letter.
Minerva sighed softly when she was through reading and had tears on her cheeks.
"How wonderfully extraordinary," she murmured, patting the letter gently.
"Isn't it though," Nick replied happily, "And I'm delighted to have found you, Minnie, it has been an interesting journey. Mrs Claus and I are so glad that little Dor is back with her family. But there is one more thing, that needs to be cleared up..." Before he could continue, though, the lid to the box on the hearth popped off with a clatter and a furry bluish-black head with large tufted ears poked out of the box and looked around.
"Merlin's beard! A kneazle! Why in heaven's name is there a kneazle in that box?" Minerva asked, a hand at her throat.
"That's rather amusing," Nick chuckled, watching the kneazle make its way over to his chair. "He's a stowaway. The kneazle was a stowaway when he arrived at the North Pole, having crawled into my sack for a nap, and a stowaway today. That box wasn't meant for him, but I suppose he was tired of his frozen life at the North Pole. Also, his name is Merlin; the elves named him that because he had a knack for being in the right place at the right time and for finding things that were lost." Minerva chuckled and watched as the kneazle jumped onto Nick's lap and butted him in the chest, purring. "You're very welcome, old boy. I hope this place suits you," Nick replied. The kneazle turned, giving Dorcha a look and a meow, and the owl hooted in reply.
Merlin, the kneazle, jumped down to the floor, walked to the office door and, using his tail, opened it and left. Dor, who'd been watching the kneazle, surprised Minerva when she launched herself up to flutter down to the box on the hearth. Minerva watched bemusedly as Dor stuck her head into the box, making chittering sounds.
"Well," Nick chuckled, "That brings me to the most important reason for coming to see you..." A plaintive meow rose from the box, ending with a tiny howl and a hiss. "Dor!" Nick said sternly, "Don't nibble!" Dor ignored him and, grasping the edge of the box in her beak, tipped the little blue-black kitten onto the rug. Nick leaned over and scooped the small kit into his hands, calming her and earning himself a lick on the thumb. He stood and held the kitten out to Minerva. "One kitten, as requested," he said with a big smile.
"Well, I never...!" she murmured, blinking up at him, but she held out her hands for the small ball of fluff. The kit looked up at Minerva with big green eyes, large tufty ears at attention. Minerva smiled. "It's been quite some time since I've had a familiar," she said softly, scritching the kits neck, "It'll be nice to have one once again. Thank you, Santa," she said, smiling up at him. "I take it that Merlin is her father?"
"Indeed," he answered. "He left us quite the little brood; the barn cats will miss him, I'm sure," he laughed. "Well, Headmistress, Mrs Claus will have dinner ready soon so I must be off. It has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Minnie. I'm just sorry that your gift took so long in arriving," he said with a grin. Minerva stood with the bit of black kitten asleep in the crook of one arm and walked Nick to the fireplace.
"I can never thank you enough, Santa, for Dor and the kitten... It's been a pleasure to meet you as well," Minerva said as they shook hands.
"Just remember, Minnie... Any time you need to get a letter to me just toss it into the fireplace and say 'Santa, North Pole'. It will find me. And it will cut down on frozen owls, too!" Nick chuckled as he stepped into the floo and, laying his finger aside his nose, he gave her a wink before he rose up the chimney and disappeared.
=^..^= Merlin =^..^=
Merlin, the kneazle, sat calmly on his step as the staircase curled slowly towards the floor below. Hopping off before he reached the bottom, he sniffed the air in every direction and decided to follow the delicious smell of food and people. He passed no one on his journey towards the Great Hall until he sauntered by an alcove that was softly sniffling. Merlin wandered over to the alcove, sat down and peered in. A small, dark-haired, first-year boy was sitting on the floor with his arms around his legs, sniffling into his knees. The kneazle studied the boy for a moment, blinked and gave a loud, scratchy meow. Hufflepuff Davey Stufflebean's head shot up, eyes wide with surprise.
"Wh-Where did you come from?!" Merlin just stared at him, looked towards the Great Hall, then looked back at Davey. Davey's brow furrowed, and Merlin repeated his look down the hall then back again. Davey looked down the hall as well, then back at the giant cat. Well, he thought it was a cat. "I'm not going in there. I'll have to walk by Milton Zosma, and he'll tease me or trip me or call me some stupid name. He's a big jerk, and I just want to go home...," he whined sadly, sniffing again.
Merlin flopped onto his side next to Davey's knees and meowed piteously. "What's the matter? Are you okay?" More sad meowing. "Are you hungry?" Merlin hopped to his feet, walked a few steps down the hall, and stopped, looking back at Davey. "Well, go on then," the boy said sadly. Merlin sighed. He walked back, stood next to Davey and gave a cross 'mrrOoow' as he wrapped his tail around the boy's wrist and tugged him to his feet. Davey sighed as he was pulled, grudgingly, down the hallway.
=^..^= The Great Hall =^..^=
"Hey, Wafflebean, where'd you get the mangy furball?" Gryffindor Milton Zosma asked, sticking his leg out to block their way to the Hufflepuff table.
"Shut it, Milton, leave us alone," Davey said crossly. Milton's eyes narrowed, and he started to rise, but Merlin planted a giant black paw on his outstretched leg. He gently but firmly dug in with sharp kneazle claws.
Milton's eyes were saucer-like in a split second, and he choked out, "Get him off me!"
"Mister Zosma, is there a problem?" asked the Headmistress, who'd just walked into the Great Hall with a sleeping kitten. "Ah, I see that you've met Merlin the kneazle. I wouldn't get on his wrong side, gentlemen, kneazles have claws like razors and are rather protective of the people they're fond of. And this here," she added, looking down at her sleeping kit, "Is Merlin's daughter, Orly. She is half-kneazle and, as I've already discovered, her claws are definitely like her father's side of the family," she chuckled.
"B-But, Professor! He won't let go of me," Milton whined through gritted teeth.
Minerva McGonagall leaned over Davey's shoulder and looked down at Milton's leg. "Oh, dear," she murmured. "Could it be that you are waiting for something, Merlin?" she asked, addressing the kneazle. "An apology, perhaps?"
"Mro-o-o-w!" Merlin replied loudly, squinting his eyes. Orly, who'd woken, echoed his response just as noisily.
"I would get on with it then, Mister Zosma, you wouldn't want to lose the use of that leg," she admonished, eyebrow raised. "Enjoy your supper, Mister Stufflebean, Merlin..." She gave them a nod and made her way up to the head table, stroking the little kitten in her arms.
Milton's face turned red, and he scowled sulkily at his departing Headmistress. Merlin's claws tightened ever so slightly, and he winced.
"Well, Oz?" Davey asked, "If you just get it over with we could both eat supper, because I'm starving!"
"Don't call me that!" Davey rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Stufflebean," Milton muttered. Merlin's claws released. A bit. "What?!" he cried, looking down at the kneazle. Merlin just looked at him through half-shut eyes and tilted his head. "Fine. I'm sorry that I called you Wafflebean and stuck my leg in your way and insulted your kneazle," he said with a sigh. Merlin released his leg, and Milton leaned down to give it a quick rub.
"Thanks," Davey replied, "I'm sure Merlin appreciates it, too, but he's not my kneazle. I just met him. I wasn't going to come to supper, but he dragged me in here." Milton frowned, but before he could say anything, Davey piped up. "With his tail... He wrapped his tail around my wrist and dragged me down the hallway," he explained. "Actually, he is a bit bossy." Merlin turned towards Davey, gave him a look, and snorted. Then he jumped onto the bench opposite Milton. Using his tail, he nudged a bowl towards the closest steaming casserole dish.
Milton and Davey looked at each other in surprise, then back at the kneazle. Merlin nudged the bowl again until it tinked against the casserole dish. "You think he wants some of that?" Milton asked.
"Dunno," Davey shrugged, leaning over the table to look into the dish. "Mmmm, that smells brilliant... Shepherd's pie. Kneazles can probably eat that."
"Might as well sit down and eat then, Stufflebean," Milton huffed, "Before you and that kneazle faint from malnutrition." He dished up three bowls of shepherd's pie, not looking at Davey, and that kneazle jumped to the floor and sat under the table, waiting for his.
"Thanks, Oz," Davey replied, accepting one of the bowls. Milton scowled but didn't say anything as he pushed the last bowl across the floor with his foot. Merlin gave a quick little chirp of thanks and began to eat.
When Minerva McGonagall next looked up from her meal, she was unsurprised to see Davey, Milton and Merlin eating and talking together at the Gryffindor table. Well, Davey and Milton were talking; Merlin was sitting on the bench next to Davey, attempting to swipe a chocolate-covered strawberry from a dessert plate. She smiled as she stroked a sleeping Orly, whose belly was also full of shepherd's pie. It appeared that Merlin was going to be quite the asset to Hogwarts and its students. Santa would be pleased. She thought she might drop him a note at the end of the week, just to let him know how Dor, Orly and Merlin were getting on.
=^..^= Merlin at Home =^..^=
For several weeks, Merlin wandered through every room of the castle, from the highest towers to the dungeons below. He was seen in dorm rooms, classrooms, labs, common rooms and the kitchens. Minerva was quite sure that he'd found more hidden alcoves, trick closets and secret passages than the Weasley twins. She wouldn't be surprised to find out that he'd gained entrance to the Room of Requirement, as well.
The people he seemed closest to were Davey, Milton, Professor Longbottom, Hagrid and a young Slytherin girl named Talitha that he appeared to have drawn into the budding friendship of Davey and Milton. Merlin had a knack for creating friendships across the houses, and many of the Professors believed he was a blessing when it came to the calming of many inter-house rivalries.
Eventually, though, he settled on the Hufflepuff common room as his home base. There, he took care of the young ones, slept with those who were lonely, encouraged any who needed it, chastised any who misbehaved and defended his charges with stern ferocity. He was also particularly good at finding missing items and returning them to their owners. He was an excellent and appreciated member of Hufflepuff House for many, many years.
After spending a great many years as the unofficial Hufflepuff mascot, he decided to decamp to Headmaster Longbottom's office after the passing of his wife, Hannah. And when Neville retired from his post, the kneazle went home with him where, after many more years together, they passed away quietly within hours of each other.
And, until the end of Merlins days, Santa never failed to deliver him a new cat toy on Christmas morning.
=^..^= Finite =^..^=
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I hope you enjoyed this little story! I spent 20+ years writing and sending Santa letters to children all over the world and, even though I've retired from that special job, Christmas stories pop into my head ALL of the time. This one just decided to pop out, as well! Thanks for reading, commenting, favourite-ing, etcetera... You are greatly appreciated! The L.O.O.
-: Lovely cover art purchased from WatercolorStarPrints on Etsy
-: Cover/banner designs by myself. Fonts used are [because I always want to know]:
•• Title - JELLYKA DELICIOUS CAKE by Jellyka Nerevan [free]
•• Subtitle - ABOVE demo by HeroFonts [free]
•• Signature - SAME-SEX MARRIAGE SCRIPT LDO by Luke Owens [free]