Title: Magic at Midnight

Author: always_a_queen / Small-Wonders

Rating: PG / K+

Pairing: Snowing (Snow/Charming), James/Mary Margaret

Spoilers: Through 1x06, The Shepherd

Summary:"You wished upon a silver fairy, and all you wanted was snow." / An attempt at Christmas-fic. One-shot.

Author's Note the First: Let's pretend, for the sake of this fic, that there is Christmas in Fairy-Tale land.

Author's Note the Second: For the prompt "Midnight" at onceuponaprompt on LJ.

Midnight

"What are you doing awake?"

Snow turns at the sound of her husband's voice. A smile brightens her face. "I'm waiting."

James smiles and steps out onto the balcony with her. Above them, the stars twinkle in the sky. Snow looks into his eyes, and thinks the stars have serious competition in the sparkling department.

"Waiting for what?" he asks. He's giving her that grin, that smile he flashes when he's thinking about how pretty she is, or how much he loves her, or how he'd slay dragons, cross oceans and battle all kinds of monsters to find her. It's a smile that reminds her he's her prince and she's his princess and there are no others in the land meant to be together like they are. And they are going to get to their happily-ever-after because they are the ones stories are written about.

In this instance, his smile means I-think-it's-cute-that-you're-standing-out-on-the-balcony-at-ten-till-midnight-but-I-still-don't-understand-why.

"I wished upon one of the Silver Fairies that it would snow at midnight on Christmas. She promised me it would." And Silver Fairies, Snow has learned, must keep their promises at all costs.

"You wished upon a Silver Fairy, and all you wanted was snow."

She frowns at him, and then says defensively, "She was a very young Fairy, only a few decades old at the most. I thought it would be unfair to request anything more, and she so wanted to grant me a wish. Besides, it's not just tonight, you know."

"Oh?"

"You see, I wished it for just this Christmas, but the Silver Fairy thought it wasn't enough, and said that she would do something more."

Snow can see that she has her husband's full attention now. "What more could she possibly do?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Charming." Snow chides. "She told me that wherever I am, no matter what the circumstances, that it would always snow at exactly the stroke of midnight on Christmas morning. She said that no matter what happens or how bleary everything looks, I will always remember to have hope." Tenderly, she takes his face in her hands and caresses his cheeks with her fingers.

"Hope in what?" he asks, voice low and heady enough to make her stomach leap. His fingers brush against her abdomen. She loves it when he does that. She's not showing just yet, but it reminds her that he's as eager as she is to meet this little person they've created.

She shrugs slightly. "Hope that the baby will be okay. Hope that she'll be happy. Hope that we'll be happy. Hope that you'll always be with me, watching out for me."

"Hey," he says gently, "There isn't a place that exists where I won't find you."

They sway closer to each other.

A flake of snow lands right on the tip of James' nose. At the same time, they both look up to see a shower of snowflakes, swirling down from the heavens.

The prince shakes his head and laughs as the snow falls around them. "There isn't even a cloud in the sky."

"See," she whispers. "It's magic."

He kisses her then, and she melts in his arms.

And in that moment, she's happy. No fear of the Evil Queen, no fear of a life cursed to live in misery, just pure, unadulterated happiness.

"Come on." He tugs at her hand to lead her inside and, after a slight hesitation, she follows. "You can go back out in a minute, I have something for you." He glances down at her belly, "And for him."

"It's a girl," Snow argues as she sits on the bed. She can tell he still disagrees, but he settles for getting down on one knee, and rummaging underneath the bed for…something.

"Charming, are you collecting dust bunnies?"

"Very funny." His voice sounds muffled.

Snow crosses her arms. "What are you doing under there?"

"Just hold on a second." He pulls out a wooden box and sets in at her feet.

She glances first at it, and then at him. His grin is infectious, and she feels her own smile growing. "What is it?" she asks.

He takes the lid off the crate and lifts something out of the sawdust packaging.

Snow gasps.

Tiny glass unicorns, some blue and some white, hang from clear strings. They spin and catch the light from the candles in the room. It's one of the prettiest things she's ever seen.

"It made me think of you," he says.

"It's beautiful," she whispers as he hangs it up over the crib. He glances at her over his shoulder.

"Exactly," he says.

She's still gazing at it as he returns to her. He sits beside her, takes her hands, and kisses her knuckles.

"The baby will love it," she tells him, ruffling his hair gently with her fingers. His shirt is undone, and she can see bare chest peeking through the fabric.

His fingers fiddle with the tiny buttons on her nightgown, and her heart beats faster.

"I don't have anything for you." Which is a lie, but he's not going to care in the morning.

He pretends to pout, playing right along. "Not even a small token, my princess."

"Well," she feigns deep contemplation, "I suppose, maybe, I could grant you a kiss?"

"That would be acceptable." With his first finger, he touches his lips, knowing her well enough to specify exactly where he wishes to be kissed, lest he receive her token of affection on his cheek or hand instead.

He leans towards her, and she follows his lead.

Just before their lips touch, he whispers, "Merry Christmas, Snow White."

And she replies, "Merry Christmas, Prince Charming."

It's Christmas Eve, and there is no snow. Not even a flurry.

Mary Margaret thinks this shouldn't bother her, but it does.

She stirs her hot coca with a cinnamon stick and sinks down onto her sofa with a sigh. The lights on her Christmas tree twinkle gaily.

Emma went to bed a long time ago, but Mary Margaret doesn't want to sleep just yet. It's Christmas Eve, and every Christmas Eve – for as long as she can remember – Mary Margaret's stayed up until midnight, waiting for that magical moment when Christmas finally, really truly began.

A series of rapid knocks on the door to her apartment makes Mary Margaret abandon her admiration of her tree and set her mug on the end table. Who on earth could be here at this time of night?

She glances out the peephole to see nothing but an empty hallway, which naturally only confuses her more.

Opening the door, Mary Margaret glances one way, then the other. No one is there.

She's just about to tell herself she's crazy and shut the door when she glances down.

There's a cardboard box on her welcome mat.

Mary Margaret scans the hall again. Still no sign of anyone. She squats down to inspect the package. It's tied with twine, and there is an envelope tucked beneath the cord. Her name is scribbled down in a writing that looks familiar; she just can't quite place it.

Setting the box on her counter, she takes a knife from a drawer and uses it as an impromptu envelope opener. Inside, the card is a solid red. The words MerryChristmas are spelled out in gold lettering on the front. Mary Margaret flips it open.

It made me think of you.

It isn't signed.

She snaps the twine, opens the box's flaps, and reaches her hand inside.

It's a mobile. Blue and clear glass unicorns spinning around. She remembers seeing it in Mr. Gold's pawnshop, and always thought…

She's always thought that if she ever had a child, this is what she wanted them seeing just before their little eyes slipped shut. Hope and magic and imagination all pulled together.

A still small voice reminds her that she can still have that. It's not too late.

For a few minutes, she does nothing but hold it, watching the unicorns dance in midair, twirling around each other. She touches the hooves of the creature closest to her and can't contain her smile.

It's beautiful.

Her clock chimes midnight, and almost on instinct, Mary Margaret glances out the window and feels a strange spark of hope growing in her chest.

It's snowing.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, David glances up at the snowflakes drifting down from the clear, starry sky.

"Isn't that something," he muses aloud. "Must be magic."

end.