The Origin of Christmas Trees

            “Where are Christmas trees from?” 

The tot asked no one in particular, more to the Christmas Tree itself than anyone else in the room.  Harry cast her a peculiar sideways glance from the kitchen where he had previously been picking at the turkey they would have the next day, to stare at his very short daughter.  She, with her scruffy black hair and curiously expressive brown eyes turned away from the Douglas evergreen and to her father, her fingers clutched tightly around the teddy she dragged most everywhere during Christmas (called Mr. Brown, though its choice of name was beyond him, as the bear was purely gray) and almost started to suck her thumb, but stopped, and fiddled the end of her jumper instead.  A beautiful child, he would never hesitate to say, and his heart swelled with the thought that he’d helped produce something so marvelously adorable.  His daughter began to pout her moment of displeasure; one of her shoes hit the floor with impatience.

“Daddy!  Where are Christmas-“

“Now, now, don’t stamp your foot, Georgia.” 

He left the turkey alone and, with a swoop had her situated in his arms.  She was, after all, nearly five years old, but still very small and scrawny.  Hermione always lectured him; ‘if you keep picking her up she’ll forget how to walk properly’ but he paid her no mind at all and went on his way, giving her more than enough love that he didn’t have when he was a child.

The two of them nestled into the red armchair nearest the tree and Harry cleared his throat, sounding very much like Uncle Percy, which made his daughter giggle, before starting.

“Well, Christmas trees are from-“

“Is this a story or just a…a….”

“No dearest, it’s a story.”

“Alright.  But start with once upon a time.”

“Fine then.  Once upon a time-“

“There was a princess.”  Georgia stated quite firmly.  Harry fell short of breath for a moment.

“There’s no princess in this story.”  He said a bit absurdly.

“There ought to be.”  Said his daughter.  He sighed.

“Alright then…Once upon a time there was a princess, and she was-”

“The most fairest in the land.”

“Right.  And her favorite Holiday was Easter.”

“That’s not right!  Her favorite holiday was Christmas!”

“Am I telling the story, or are you?”

“You don’t tell it right.”

“Then you tell me the story.”

“I don’t know it.”

“Let’s ask Mummy.”

“Alright.”

 Harry clambered up first, Georgia edging out of the chair second and with a ‘shh’ they both crept up the stairs.  The two made no peep as they stepped down the corridor.  Harry put his finger to his lips, and his daughter mirrored the expression.  They tiptoed into the room without a sound.  Hermione silently hummed to herself as she used her wand to finish decorating the den with garland and snowflakes, unnoticing of the two figures behind her.

“Now!”  Georgia cried. 

Harry rushed in and, with the same swoop had Hermione over his shoulder squealing as all three ran down the stairs.  Harry flopped her into the chair; Georgia leapt onto her lap and Harry squished her to the side as he also squeezed into the seat.  Hermione blinked in surprise.

“Story!  Story!”  Georgia and Harry chanted together, slapping their legs up and down like…well, children.  Hermione let herself catch her breath for a moment, wanting nothing more than to slap her spouse upside the head for pulling such a stunt but decided it was inappropriate in front of their daughter, she being so young and impressionable.

“A story?”

“YES!”  Cried Georgia.

“Please Herm, I wasn’t telling it right.”  Harry pleaded behind his glasses, and Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Alright.”

“Yay!”  They chorused together.

“What was the story about?”

“Where Christmas Trees come from.  And it started once upon a time, there was a princess.”

“Who was the most fairest in the land.”  Harry added.

“And her favorite holiday was Christmas.”  Harry wrinkled his nose.  Georgia did the same.  Hermione cast a glance between them.

“You’re both silly.  Alright, once upon a time, there was a princess-“

“What was her name, Herm?”

“The princess’s name was Princess Pretty-Pink.”  Georgia giggled, “And her favorite Holiday of all was-“

“Easter!”

“No!  Christmas!”  Hermione pattered her black-mane of hair and smiled.

“Of course, it was Christmas.”

“You always take her side, Herm.”

“Quiet you.”  Georgia laughed, “Anyway, and this Princess, who’s name was Pretty-Pink, really loved Christmas.”

“Was she a witch?”  asked Georgia.

“Yes, now no more questions or I’ll never get through the whole story.  Princess Pretty- Pink really loved Christmas.  And she lived in a big pink castle way up in the sky, with lots of flowers, and toys and-“

“Pretty ponies!”

“and Christmas elves with chocolate and jelly beans!”

“And mistletoe.”  Harry said ruefully, and kissed Hermione.  Georgia scrunched her nose.

“Ewww…”  Hermione blushed and giggled.

“Yes, it had all of that.  But Princess Pretty-Pink was still unhappy.”

“With all that mistletoe around?”  Harry asked playfully, and Hermione blushed further.

“Yes.  She was unhappy because she didn’t have anyone to spend Christmas with.  Princess Pretty-Pink’s mummy and daddy had gone away, and left her all alone with lots of toys and fun but no one to tuck her in at night.”

“And everyone knows that Christmas is supposed to be spent with people you love, right Georgia?”

“Right!”

“Anyway, one day, a handsome prince, who was a friend of the Princess, came to the castle to have fun.”

“What was his name, Mummy?”

“His name,” Harry interrupted, “Was Prince Fluffy.”

“Fluffy?”  Georgia asked in five-year-old astonishment.

“Fluffy.”  Her father confirmed.  Hermione choked on her laughter, before continuing.

“Prince Fluffy saw Princess Pretty-Pink was very unhappy even though he was there, so he, being a wizard himself, decided to make the Princess a gift.”

“A Christmas tree?”

“No, dear.  He decided to make her, her very own star.”

“Oh wow!”

“That’s what the Princess said.  But when the Princess reached up to get the star, she dropped it!”

“Oh no!”  Harry cried in mock surprise.

“Yes.”  Said Hermione sadly, “She dropped the star, and it started falling, falling all the way to the ground.  But Prince Fluffy saw what was happening, and he saw a rock on the ground, and tried to make it a pillow.  But he wasn’t very good at changing things, and it became something else instead.”

“A big puddle?”  asked Georgia.  Hermione shook her head.

“Nope, an evergreen tree.”  Georgia looked slightly confused.

“Like this.”  Harry said, and pointed to their Christmas tree.

“Ohh….”

“Princess Pretty-Pink and Prince Fluffy went to get the star, and Princess Pretty-Pink was so happy that the tree had caught her star, and thought it looked so pretty, that she took it back up to her castle and decorated it with pretty pearls and beautiful glitter for everyone to see.  Everyone came to see the beautiful tree, and soon they started putting trees and giving them stars to put on the top too.  Even muggles.  And everyone was very happy, and Princess Pretty-Pink wasn’t sad anymore.  The end.”

Georgia cheered and further into her mother and father, peering at the star, her face of satisfaction fading into curiosity once more.

“But mummy…we have an angel on our tree.”  And sure enough, atop their tree was a white-dressed angel with brilliant emerald eyes and long red hair.  Harry’s eyes seemed to have a sudden nostalgic glaze over his eyes.

“Yes, Georgia, because some special stars turn into angels.  And they always watch us from up above.”

“Like in The Lion King?”  the four-year-old asked quietly.  Hermione smiled.

“Sort of.”  Georgia yawned then.

“Is it Christmas yet?”

“Nearly.  You’d better get to bed, dearest.”

“Can I wait for Father Christmas?”

“He won’t come if you’re not sleeping.”  She yawned, and for once her stubborn nature seemed to fade.

“Alright…”  Harry gave her a piggy-back up to bed.  Hermione tucked her in.  They both kissed her goodnight, left the hall light on with just a little crack in the door and Mr. Brown cuddled in her arms.  The two of them changed into their nightclothes and slipped back downstairs, right into the same chair.  Hermione sighed contently.

“I think this one has been the best so far.”

“Really?”  He murmured quietly into her hair.

“Yes.”

“You know…we come up with a different story every year.”

“This one was certainly the best.”  Hermione sighed softly, “I used to think times might be…less happy as time went on…but I know that’s not true now.”  She smiled.  “Though I think I’m running out of ideas on ‘where Christmas trees come from’.”

“That’s alright, love.  Maybe next year she’ll ask about the origin of mistletoe.”

“Harry!” 

There was a few giggles, quick kisses and whispers that made either blush, before everything went serene again.

“Let’s get to bed.”  Said Hermione,  “Father Christmas won’t come if we’re awake.”

“Oh yes, Georgie would hate that, wouldn’t she?”  The two of them languorously moved from the armchair, extinguished the fire so that only the candles and Christmas lights on the tree shown brilliantly in the darkness of the room.  Late-winter snow was drifting outside of the windows but neither took notice, already confident it would be a white Christmas the next morning.

The End.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or The Lion King!

::coff::  Like I said.  Fluff.  WAFF fluff.  Pathetic, no?  I had to get it out of my system before it clogged my arteries.  Oh well, another one of those ‘quicky’ works that just need to be written so I won’t have to worry about it anymore.  Merry Christmas.  Happy belated Hanukkah.  Great Kwanzaa.  Wonderful Ramadan.  And any other holiday festivity I happened to miss.  Happy Holidays!  (and it would be a really great present to me if you reviewed, hint hint).