Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone!

The door clicked shut behind her and she slipped off her mask.

A gust of wind immediately stole beneath the scrap of silk and she shivered when the frosty air swept over her face and bit at her cheeks.

Snow crackled behind Christine as her husband walked up to her, and she turned to see Erik standing only a few feet from her. Moonlight glittered on his face – or rather, on his mask that he had kept; he passed her and glanced behind the statue on the corner and also rounded halfway the small dome as well before at last he returned to her and pulled off his own mask.

"It seems to be a popular venue," he explained, making a feeble gesture towards the ground – there were several sets of footprints visible even in the freshly fallen snow.

"Privacy is a precious commodity at a ball," she smiled, starting towards the untrodden area just on the inside of the ledge: the snow sunk with a resisting, scrunchy creak beneath her every step. Whomever had been up here on the roof – and judging from the prints, there were quite many of them – thankfully they had left a few untouched paths of whiteness behind them.

A soft breeze swept a few flakes from a nearby statue and the mask fluttered in her hand slightly.

"Don't you think they'll notice the rising number of masked balls since the opera house reopened?" She asked with a smile, directing her steps back towards him. It seemed she had been smiling forever and now her face was starting to hurt from the continuous stretch. This year's gala performace went exceedingly well, and the following ball was even better. This was only the second such celebration after the fire, and everyone was willing to forget about what had happened not exactly two years ago. There had been a similar celebration last year, but then the memories had been far too fresh for a carefree celebration. The opera house had been reopened only a few months prior to Christmas, and financial problems, as well as uncertainty over whether the audience would want to return for the next year had rendered the Christmas gala rather ceremonious than festive.

This year, however, none of those fears were present.

M. Firmin's hope had proved to be true, after all: scandal was way more prosperous advertisement than immaculate reputation. The opera house recovered its supporters and its audience, and today's performance had met a resounding success.

And it seemed people were not the slightest bit confused about the fact that the Christmas ball was a masked ball.

"I wanted to dance with you," he replied simply and she glanced up into his eyes: they sparkled with mirth – and without a trace of guilt or regret.

Her heart swelled and she took a deep breath to make space for all her emotions.

And his eyes shone greener than ever.

"And now?" She asked as she stopped in front of him, swirling a little to the side and watching how the hem of her skirt swept a shallow path in the snow.

The heavy fabric rustled as she continued to moved, but the sound was quickly swallowed by the thick snow that covered surface.

She turned a little again, the hem swishing softly as it brushed another semi-circle in front of her.

"You're stunningly beautiful." His words cut through her astonishment over the pattern she created and she looked up: he was smiling, but whether it was at her or at her odd occupation she couldn't decide – and didn't even want to. "Red suits you," he added a moment later.

"Thank you," she smiled back at him. "And you look elegant and dashing, as always." His lips parted to utter his disagreement but before he could say anything, she added, "Moreover, your pocket square is a perfect match for the colour of my dress."

He swept aside a nonexistent flake from one of his sleeves – his chance to refuse her compliment was gone now, after all, and her smile grew wider when he made no attempt to recover the chance to disagree.

"It is a mere coincidence," he mumbled, his eyes flitting first to her shoulder then at her face, and her heart gave an extra beat. His colour was heightened, and were it not for his lips that curled just a little upward, she would have feared she had offended him. Apparently, she had not.

"So why did we come up here?" She asked him when he just continued to watch her.

At her question, he reached into his coat and pulled out a box that was neatly wrapped in golden paper; there was even a tiny bow on the top of it. Her heart began to beat in her stomach. "I wanted to give you this," he said. "Thank you."

And he handed her the box.

Thank you.

The next breath caught in her throat.

Thank you.

Was it not supposed to be her who said that?

"What for?" She stuttered, and took the offered box in a haze of thoughts, trying to summon the events of the last few days. She hadn't given him anything yet; could it have been something that she had said...?

"Because this year I have a lot more pleasant memories to recall than last year," he answered quietly, shifting on his feet.

Her gaze wandered to the small object she was holding: shiny, golden paper with a dainty bow. "You're very welcome..." She blurted out finally, and, swallowing her confusion, she lifted her eyes to meet his. "But you needn't thank me for it."

"I wanted to. I cannot thank you for staying with me quite often," he replied.

"You don't owe me anything," she told him, surprised that the words could leave her dry throat at all.

"You always say that," he told her with an affectionate warmth in his voice.

"And I always mean it."

"I know." His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke, and his hand hovered over her face for a breath of time before brushing his thumb lightly across her cheek.

Her throat tightened and she had to swallow before she was able to ask, "That's why I received it, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Something twisted in her chest and her eyes began to burn; blinking, she tried to beathe through the emotions but it ended in a rather uneven exhale. To be given a present for something so natural, so genuine...

"Thank you..." She began but then trailed off when her throat began to tremble. Air left her lungs in a rushed exhale and she blinked again, then stepping closer to him she braced herself on his chest, and leaned up to kiss him. Her lips brushed against his with the lightest sweep and he returned it immeditely, his arms coming to rest on her waist. Her own hand went around his back in return, pulling him closer and leaning into his embrace, and she melted against him when the warmth of his palms began to seep through the many layers of her clothes.

It was only several moments later that they parted, and she pulled back from him with one last, brief kiss.

A quiet murmuring drifted up to the roof from the street, then the sound muffled before it died down completely as the people on the street passed. The following silence was only broken by the soft rustle of the bow on top of her present as a light breeze caught into it.

Her eyes returned to the neat wrapping and she smiled. "Is it not a bit contradictory that you give me a present because you know I'm not expecting one?"

"Only as much as it was contradictory to come back to me because I let you go," he replied, but his tone was rather teasing than remorseful.

A sudden squeezing sensation appeared around her stomach, but before tears could well in her eyes she took a deep breath and reached for the bow, then pulling one end of it, she loosened the string around the box. She held it out to the side, and when she was relieved of it, she set out to peel the paper from the box. The wrapping then was taken from her too, and finally she lifted the lid.

The box was full of... something glittery, and she reached into it to learn what it was. What she lifted was cool between her fingers and heavy compared to its modest size. She held it closer to her eyes...

Amazement made her to let out a surprised sigh.

It was a snowflake – made of glass.

One look at the contents of the box confirmed that it was full of tiny snowflakes, all made of delicate glass.

"They're beautiful..." She heard herself whisper, balancing the box in one hand and awkwardly reaching into the box with her other while also holding onto the snowflake to examine its companions: the next she took out had a different shape than the first, but it was equally charming and detailed. "All of them made of glass?" She asked in awe, but only half-expecting an answer. Now it was obvious that what she was holding was a box of ornaments for the Christmas tree; and judging from the subtle design of them, she was now in possession of a set that cost a small fortune.

She drew in a long, calming breath, willing her hands to remain steady.

It was not as if she had never seen glass ornaments before; there always was one or two on the opera house's Christmas tree... but never so many or so delicate that she was holding now.

"They're beautiful," she repeated, taking out a third ornament.

"I hoped you'd like them, too," he said, and when she looked up, he was looking at her with a small smile.

Too...

The corners of her lips tugged upwards. "Did you?" She asked him. Now she saw that he was holding in one hand the string and the wrapping, and she was mildly ashamed that she didn't even remember asking him to help her, just expected that he would be there anyway.

"It reminded me of our first Christmas," came his reply a moment later.

Her heart skipped a beat in its excitement. "I take it that you liked it, then."

He didn't asnwer her immediately; instead, he took a deep breath and looked at something over her shoulder before his gaze returned to hers. "I never really understood until last year why you loved the winter holiday so much," he told her at last.

"And now you do?" She asked.

"It's very... warm," he admitted after a short pause, his eyes wandering to the open box in her hand. "When you have someone to celebrate it with."

It was impossible to draw a full breath through her suddenly tight throat and she only managed after another attempt; she then closed the small distance between the two of them and reached up to kiss him before her eyes could well again.

Last year... As amazing as it was to finally spend Christmas with her long-time companion, it still had been an awkwardly difficult time as it was overcast by the shadow of the previous Christmas. Two years ago not only had they spent Christmas apart for the first time since they had known each other, but, as she had learnt it last year, he had used the holiday to take revenge for her supposed betrayal. The confession had not affected her happiness – but apparently it had his. At her prodding he revealed he had very much wished to celebrate the winter holiday, but in the end his happiness over it had been a cautious, subdued one, as if he had tried to restrain it. She remembered with a pang in her heart how she had told him she had already forgiven him – and she also remembered the silence that was his reply.

And now he had bought ornaments for her because it had reminded him of their first Christmas.

Her heart swelled with countless emotions but it was impossible to form them into words. She opened her lips to speak but her mind was blank when she tried to tell him... she didn't even know what. He had been anticipating a holiday which he had thought he didn't deserve to enjoy because of his past mistake. She had tried to convince him to the contrary but last year she could not.

Do you accept it now?

"You chose well," she told him with a smile, gently putting back the ornaments in the box, then secured the lid when he handed it to her. "This is the best present of all."

His eyes lingered on hers a moment before he asked, "Don't you find it presumptuous?"

"No. I remember having asked it of you last year. I cannot be offended when you only granted my wish."

His eyes closed at her words, and it was visible even in the pale moonlight how they glittered when they opened again a moment later. Reaching out, he took her hand, then bowed deeply as he breathed a kiss just above her ring. A heartbeat later it was followed by another to her lips, and she returned it immediately.

"Should we return now?" He asked her quietly.

"Absolutely," she replied, holding out her hand for him to take it. His fingers closed around hers with a soft squeeze of gratitude.