Christmases with the Drapers had been a religious celebration. Homemade gifts—ones with little monetary value—had been exchanged, but only after the morning was spent praying at church. Those were the days when tradition had not been questions; the days when she trusted the people she called mother and father, and she could find glee in even the most idle of things.

Christmases with the Scrimgeours had been different. Definitely more festive, she thought, but not happier. Christmas Day was spent surrounded by her mother, father, brother, sister.... and a few uncles, aunts, and cousins who always made a point to give her the stink eye when she opened her mouth. Gifts were stacked under the tree in an artificial manner, almost as if they were part of the decorations. No mind was given to what was purchased—and it was purchased, and although the Scrimgeours had enough money to buy what everyone wanted, they usually settled for stock gifts: perfumes, tobacco, sketching sets, books. She'd only ever received the latter—books—though the topics were often far than she desired. There was never a year where she didn't receive an etiquette manual, and only one where she received one that could be read for genuine enjoyment.

Christmases with the MacFustys were... uncertain. Surely a family who swore loyalty to one another would value the holiday that preached the importance of family. She'd had even walked into Immie's kitchen one morning to hear her mumbling about presents. Bella decided after minutes of pondering that it wasn't a question of whether the MacFustys celebrated Christmas, but whether or not she'd be spending it with them.

Of course they would let her, she reasoned, but... well, a Christmas where she felt like an intruder was no Christmas at all. Despite being welcomed into the MacFustys' homes, called "Auntie Bella" by little Isobel, and being constantly reassured by Jamie of her place there, it would be the first Christmas where she didn't have a family—at least not a natal one.

No matter which angle she looked at it, only was thing was certain: Christmas would be different. It could be exciting, it could be awkward, and it could be accompanied by feelings of bitterness and loss, but it would certainly be different. There was only one logical question left: What in Merlin's name did you get a dragon-keeper for Christmas?

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