1am

"So that's four meat feast pizzas, seven margheritas, three ham & pineapple, five barbeque, three kebab pizzas, two Mexican and one smoked reindeer pizza," Romano gave an uneasy side-glance to Tino at the last request on the list, but the Finn just shrugged and mouthed "It's tasty,". While Arthur was filling himself with alcohol at the back of the party room, Alfred and Australia had informed the rest of the party about the food crisis. Lovino had immediately offered to take charge of the pizza-ordering, and Tino had given him a takeaway menu for Kotipizza. After a heated phone call to the pizza place (in which Lovino exerted a 'don't fuck with me I created the mafia' attitude), the Italian gallantly declared that the order was on its way. After drinking on empty stomachs, most of the party's current occupiers were - for lack of a nobler word - smashed. Liechtenstein had climbed into the DJ's seat behind the sound system and placed the headphones over her own small ears. She splayed her delicate fingers onto the dials and started to blast out the most intense dubstep anyone had ever witnessed. The nations now formed a mosh pit on the floor around her, much to Finland's pleasure.

"Mathias!" Tino called over the music. The Dane excused himself from the dance floor and wandered over to him. "Have you seen Arthur around here? Only I wanted to thank him for being so kind to me earlier."

"Nah man," Mathias scratched the back of his head. "Actually, y'know I haven't seen Lukas in here either."

A clamorous clattering abruptly broke out from behind the fir tree. Tino and Mathias swivelled their heads automatically towards the commotion at the back of the room. Arthur Kirkland had his magic wand in one hand, and was violently trying to rip a shopping trolley from Emil's grasp with the other hand. In the shopping trolley sat two squashed nations, one of them being Lukas. The Norwegian looked unfazed by the events transpiring around him as he sipped calmly from his tonic, making no attempt to escape the metal vehicle. Mathias and Tino watched the battle incredulously as Arthur finally wrenched it from Emil. The Brit tore away from him with the trolley and began running down any nation that stood in his path.

"Platform 9¾, here we come!" Arthur hollered recklessly.

Emil jogged over to where Tino and Mathias stood dumbfounded. "He's trying to get to Hogwarts," he elaborated.

"Where… where did the shopping cart come from?" Tino asked quietly.

Emil sighed. "He summoned it with his magic wand." He couldn't quite believe what he was saying.

Only a few of the nations had noticed Arthur's crazed outburst over the pounding music, and those were the ones he had ran down. Romania was one of these nations, and he now caught sight of the Englishman and chased after him.

"He's gonna hurt Lukas if we don't catch him! Enough people have suffered today," Mathias clenched his fist in determination. He, Tino and Emil tore after Arthur, who had now come to the entrance of the party room, staring down the hallway and psyching himself up for something.

"Come any closer an' I'll turn ye' into a toad," garbled the Englishman, brandishing his wand as if it were a sword. "Me, Norg and Romania here are gonna miss our train to magic school!"

"That's not Romania! I'm over here you moron!" Romania roared from beside the three Nordics.

Arthur looked down to see who the imposter in the baby seat was, only to be met by the startled face of Moldova. "Blast," Arthur whispered. "No matter!" he yelled, "Off we go!"

With this, Arthur turned and steered the trolley rapidly down the length of the hallway. Lukas' eyes locked onto Mathias', and the Norwegian merely shrugged as he was pushed swiftly down the hall.

"I don't think so," growled Romania. Red energy began seeping through the nation's black jumper and his brown hair began to stand on end. His hands balled into fists as the fiery aura licked and lapped at his knuckles and fingers. He clamped his ruby eyes shut and grunted. Lukas and Moldova appeared unexpectedly beside him, causing the other three Nordic's to flinch.

"Woah," Emil uttered. Before anyone else could congratulate Romania on his wicked magic skills, there was another series of crashes and thumps from down the hall.

At the same time

Lovino Vargas felt purposeful. He considered it was his duty to ensure that everybody received their delicious-but-not-as-good-as-Italian pizza. He had chosen to stand at the edge of the dance floor in order to hear the doorbell ring when the delivery man arrived. The Italian scowled at his watch.

"Damn bastard, he's a minute late," he mumbled bitterly. In response to this, his ears picked up the stifled ringing from the front door. "About fucking time," Lovino stormed down the hall.

The Italian heard a faint crash from back in the party room, but decided to ignore it in favour of fulfilling his pizza duty. He snatched open the front door and silently tapped his watch with his index finger, glaring. The pizza boy – a young man no older than seventeen – shrank away from the formidable Italian, balancing twenty-five pizza boxes in his arms. Lovino only had to gesture lazily in order for the pizza boy to place the boxes inside the shattered porch.

The boy cleared his throat and held out his hand. "That'll b-be $175, Sir,"

Lovino stiffened. He didn't have any euros, or any currency at all for that matter. His mind worked rapidly in order to think of someone who could pay for all of this, but who brings money to a house party? His stream of thought was sharply interrupted when a certain Englishman came barrelling towards them. Lovino managed to leap from Arthur's path with a shriek and a curse, however the poor pizza boy had taken the full brunt of the trolley's charge.

"This isn't Hogwarts," Arthur stated as he looked up at the night sky after he came to an abrupt stop.

Lovino screamed and pointed at the limp body that was wedged under the trolley. He stared at the Englishman in horror. "You killed him! You actually murdered him you idiota!"

"N-no I haven't! See, he's still breathing," Arthur slurred, pointing a wobbly digit at the ragged rise and fall of the boy's chest.

Lovino looked back at the pile of pizzas in the porch. "We better bring him inside," he urged.

The Italian tipped the shopping trolley aside from the boy's body and propped his arms under his armpits. Arthur gingerly clasped the pizza boy's ankles, and the two of them proceeded to drag him the short way through the shattered porch and into the hallway. They finally dumped him roughly onto the soft carpet when Romania, Tino, Mathias, Emil and Lukas came running up from the party room.

"What happened here?" Emil asked; dread already seeping into his voice.

"This stronzo happened," the Italian jabbed a finger in Arthur's face. The Englishman glared confusedly at the digit between his eyes.

"We can handle it. This isn't exactly the first catastrophe of the night," Mathias affirmed grittily.

"This is a real, human mortal, not a nation or a sleigh being stolen! Ours bosses will kill us for this!" Lovino waved both arms frantically at the crumpled form on the ground.

Mathias, Arthur, Tino, Emil, Romania and Moldova bowed their heads guiltily at the unconscious teenager in front of them as they silently brainstormed a solution for the situation.

"We could always hide the body," Lukas mentioned casually. The others stared at him with concern.

"You do realise that he isn't dead, right?" said Romania. Lukas shrugged.

"Norge does have a point," Mathias interjected. "We can't just leave this guy here. If anyone else sees him it'll cause a panic."

Lovino shook his head. "No, you don't understand – I couldn't pay for the pizzas. If they come here looking for him, we have no way of paying them. The whole thing would seem way too suspicious, even if we handed him over!"

"Oh shit, we forgot about the money!" The Dane realised.

"All the more reason to hide him then," Tino replied seriously. "If anyone knocks, tell them that the deliverer never arrived. I can explain everything to Kotipizza in the morning."

Emil rubbed his temple. "This is insane…"

Tino was in full battle stations mode now. He wasn't about to let another mishap disturb his party – not when everyone had finally started to relax. "Mathias and Lukas, you guard the front door. If anyone knocks, it's your job to see them off. Lovino and Emil, you help me get this guy into one of the bedrooms. We'll lock the door just to make sure nobody sees him. Arthur, Romania and Moldova – go back to the party with the pizza and act natural."

"You want to lock him in?" Emil asked in distress. "That sounds like kidnap."

"It's the best we can do," Tino reassured him.

2am

Lukas and Mathias were mulling about the front entrance tiredly. Tino, Emil and Lovino had successfully hoisted the unconscious pizza delivery boy up the stairs and into one of the many bedrooms. They had missed out on the pizza party, although Arthur had stopped by to hand them a slice each in apology, but he had still been very tipsy. They nibbled on it now, leaning with their backs against the front door. Without the energy of the party to fuel them, the two Nordic nations were slowly nodding off.

"Wake up," Lukas nudged Mathias' shoulder. "You're going to drop the pizza we nearly got arrested for." The Dane grunted vaguely in response, still not venturing to open his eyes. The Norwegian sighed and took the slice from Mathias, then started eating it for himself. "You snooze you lose," Lukas mumbled between bites. "Look, if nobody has knocked by now, I doubt that-"

There was a rapid pounding on the front door. The weighty impacts reverberated up their spines and painfully threw the two of them onto the floor. Lukas landed with his half-eaten slice of pizza gummed to his face.

"Wassat?" Mathias suddenly awoke, disoriented and glancing rapidly from the door to Lukas.

The Norwegian's voice was muffled beneath the pizza slice. "I don't know,"

Mathias misheard him. "The Po-Po? Shit!" he hissed, gathering himself up from the floor. He shifted Lukas from the carpet and peeled the slice from the Norwegian's unimpressed face. With no time to make jokes, the Dane cast the pizza over his shoulder, and then brushed his hands down his own jumper in an attempt to look presentable. Lukas used the sleeve of his own sweater to wipe the grease from his nose. Mathias cleared his throat, and just as he was about to open the door…

"Open up or we'll smash this door down!" roared a voice from outside, their banging becoming more violent. Mathias swore he heard the kick of about three boots attacking the thick wood.

"Lort!" Mathias whispered harshly. "They know, Lukas! They're gonna arrest everyone! What do we do?"

"I don't know," the Norwegian admitted.

The Dane's expression abruptly became stony. "Lukas, get my axe."

"Do you not think that slicing policemen in half will worsen our situation?" Lukas deadpanned.

"Touché."

"Och, so ye want to do this the hard way, aye?" the voice interrupted. To Mathias' horror, the front door started to splinter under the force of roughly three people repeatedly running back and forth into the wood, bending the door inwards at an alarming angle. There was now a narrow gap between it and the door frame. A piercing emerald eye suddenly appeared in the crack and glared directly into Mathias' pale blue orbs. He screamed and jumped into Lukas' arms.

"Here's Scottie!"

"There was no need to break down the door," Lukas calmly told the gate crashers. He had one hand propped under Mathias' back and the other tucked beneath his knees.

"Well then ye should've opened it," Scotland shrugged. "We were freezing our bollocks off out there."

The Norwegian glanced across the three new party members.

"Did Southern Ireland not join you?" Lukas asked Northern Ireland.

"Naw, he'd much rather stay at home an' spend Christmas wi' his people," said Seamus. "So would oi, but Magnus didn't give me much of a choice…"

"Me too," Wales said quietly.

Scotland cackled rowdily and slapped his hands on his brother's shoulders. "David, dinnae be such a party pooper!"

"Ouch," grunted David.

Mathias, who was still gripping tightly to Lukas' neck, stared at them incredulously. "You're not the police?" he whimpered.

"Why would you think we're the police?" David cocked his head worriedly.

The Dane shook himself from his state of paralysis in order to survey the newcomers properly. Scotland was wearing a jumper that portrayed a scene with a little Santa peeing into the snow; the yellow yarn forming the phrase 'Merry Christmas' as it ran down the white. Wales' was deep blue with a sheep wearing little red bow around its neck. Northern Ireland's was dark green with a depiction of Jesus in a party hat, with the words 'Birthday Boy' knitted onto his robes.

"It's a long story," sighed Lukas, tipping Mathias out of his arms. Despite the Norwegian's gentleness, the Dane still managed to land flat on his face. "You have definitely had too much to drink…" Lukas huffed as he surveyed the blonde's unceremonious landing.

"Is yer man alright?" Seamus pointed to Mathias. The Dane hadn't ventured to get up from his crumpled position on the ground; his face was squashed into the floor with his arms lying limply at his sides. His knees were bent, causing his butt to protrude shamelessly in the air. A light snoring drifted to their ears as Mathias drooled into the carpet.

"He's fine."

"Move aside ye cuddies!" snarled Magnus as he barged into the party room. Poor New Zealand was thrust to the floor with an elbow jab to the face. David leant down to help him up, apologising profusely for his brother's brutality. The two then began a friendly conversation about the quality of sheep's wool.

"Well lookie here, David's made a new friend," Seamus remarked with a grin.

Magnus dragged the Irishman by the sleeve. "Och, leave him behind."

Lili was still pumping out beats on the sound system, her eyes closed in euphoria with a slice of margherita pizza dangling from her lips. Everyone had reached the pinnacle of their drunkenness – they moved heavily and uncoordinated as they jumped and grinded to the music, weighed down by their pizza-and-alcohol-filled stomachs. A sub-group had broken off from the main dance and had formed a circle around Ludwig, cheering him on as he twerked his little German heart out.

"This is weird, even for us," Seamus commented, unable to tear his eyes from Ludwig's impressive butt muscles. Finally he managed to look up at his brother. "Where are you draggin' me anyway?"

"Booze,"

"I didn't really need to ask, did I?"

"Nope."

They pushed their way through the crowd of swaying nations and finally came face-to-face with the three-metre high wine rack that was made up of a grid of square compartments for each bottle, housing the Nordic resident's fine collection of beers, wines and spirits. It was almost empty.

"This won't do," grumbled Magnus, who scanned the rack up and down for any good alcohol. He poked his head through every square compartment until abruptly his fierce emerald eyes locked onto a similar pair through the other side of the rack.

"Oh fuck," Arthur slurred roughly, stepping away clumsily from the two of them. "Not you two…"

Seamus and Magnus stepped around the rack to face the Englishman. Arthur's cheeks were as red as a cherry, with tufts of pale blonde hair matted and ruffled like a stray cat's. His white shirt was completely unbuttoned – even the cuffs - exposing his slender, lean body. In his left hand was a large glass of amber liquid.

Magnus looked him up and down with a pitiful expression. "Ye look like shit, mate."

"Fuck d'you want?" Arthur hissed, waving his pint of ale threateningly in the air.

Magnus flourished a declaration for Scottish Independence from his trouser pocket. He always carried around this document with him, just in case such an opportunity arose. Call it wishful thinking.

"Oi, Artie. Ye wouldn't do me a favour an' sign this, would ye?" Magnus draped his arm languidly over the Brit's shoulders and presented the article to him.

Arthur squinted at the paper in Magnus' hand with bleary eyes, his eyebrows knitted together tightly. "Wassat?"

"It's just a revised version of the Kingdom of Great Britain contract. Just a wee Christmas gift from me as an apology for the whole independence thing," winked Magnus.

Arthur gazed at the Scotsman's face inquisitively, his hazy green eyes never quite focusing on him.

"If it'll get you off my back, y'tosser," Arthur complied. Magnus placed a pen in the Englishman's hand, and after a lot of swaying and sloppy scribbling on Arthur's behalf, the deed was done. The Brit roughly shoved Magnus from his shoulders and stormed jerkily into the mob of dancing nations.

"Do yer really think that was a good idea?" Seamus turned to Magnus worriedly, as he suddenly felt as if one of his own limbs had been severed from his being.

"Who cares? I'm a free man for the first time in 307 years!" Magnus cackled. "Take care ay David for me!" the Scotsman brushed Seamus off and sauntered back towards the hallway. On his way he came across Belgium, who was dancing rather proactively at anyone within her immediate vicinity. Magnus slid his arm around her waist and escorted her from the room with him.

"Well I have to admit," thought Seamus, "The guy has style."