Chapter Text
Daphne Grimm was peering out of the drawing room window of old Pitch manor, anxiously, to say the least.
She had been ordering the staff around the Grimm hunting lodge like a madwoman last week, making sure everything was just so for the holidays. But then on Thursday, Thursday the 21st of December , her husband had demanded a change of venues: to move the Christmas party to one of their other houses. Their house in a magical dead spot, to be specific. Where one couldn’t speed up cleaning and redecorating by, say, using magic.
The disquieting lack of a magical atmosphere, and the memories of the Humdrum attack also left a certain amount of Christmas spirit to be desired, but there had been no consoling Malcolm once he had received the message from Basil: Snow was coming for Christmas, or Basil wasn’t coming at all.
Her husband had stormed around their home that whole day, muttering about Basilton this and Basilton that, “...And Crowley, Daph, that Simon Snow! The Mage’s boy! The one who ripped the magic out of our estate!”
“I very much know who he is, Malcolm.”
“Well- well- what are we supposed to do?!”
“It seems, dearie, that we’ll have to invite the mini-Mage. I mean, we have had him stay before…”
“AND HE SET OUR FOREST ON FIRE AND STOLE OUR MAGIC!” Malcolm had exclaimed as he pulled frantically at his white hair.
“Well, he is powerless now, I doubt he could cause any harm if he tried.”
Her husband had taken a deep breath. “You’re right, dear. But you agree they’ll have separate rooms?”
“Anything you say, dearie.”
But then a look had flickered behind her husband's eyes “I have an idea,” he’d said “We go somewhere where that Mage-boy can’t take anything more from us.”
“Into bankruptcy?” Daphne had teased, lifting an eyebrow.
“The manor.”
“Your mother’s old manor?” Daphne had asked hopefully.
“No-”
“The Swiss one?” Daphne had asked, more desperately.
“No-”
“The Greek one?” She had croaked.
“Merlin, no, I don’t want Basil to hate me. The Pitch manor.”
And Daphne had put her head in her hands.