"Holly," Maurice whispered, as he woke on the couch in the furniture room at Divine's Emporium.
The last chime of midnight still hung in the air.
That had never happened before.
Usually, no matter how hard he tried to have the entire twenty-four hours of his day of having a full-sized, see-able body, he always woke up around dawn.
Trembling, Maurice vaulted off the couch and reached for his clothes. No, wait--he hadn't put his clothes out last night before he went to visit Holly's dreams. Wasn't that stupid?
But a second later his hand closed around his clothes--new clothes, a thick black sweater with holly and mistletoe embroidered around the collar and cuffs, black slacks, boots, even a hat and gloves and snazzy leather jacket.
"Thanks, Angela," he muttered as he struggled into the stiff new clothes.
His stomach growled--hunger was a natural result of having his body expanded from five inches tall to six feet--so he made his way upstairs as quietly as he could, to raid Angela's kitchen. After all, it was midnight. Nobody would be awake for a few hours, at the very least.
Correction--Angela was awake, making a massive breakfast. She gestured at the big red teapot sitting in the middle of the table, set for three.
"Expecting guests?" Maurice asked. He lifted the lid of the teapot. The heavenly aroma of Angela's special recipe, triple-chocolate hot chocolate rose up to tantalize his nose.
"Hoping. No assurances. But considering your record and how many times I've pestered the powers-that-be..." Angela shook her head, and bent to open her oven and bring out a pan of cinnamon rolls.
Maurice poured for both of them. They toasted each other and silently sipped their first cupfuls while Angela finished cooking the last few strips of bacon.
The magic guarding the house shivered. Maurice grinned, delighted he could sense even that much magic. Usually he was an ordinary Human in the total sense of the word on the days he got a full-sized body. Angela quirked up an eyebrow.
"You felt that?" Her look grew smug when he nodded. "That's a very good sign. Our guest has a key, but maybe you want to go downstairs and meet her, just in case she's having a hard time navigating. Or maybe she's afraid to come the rest of the way."
"Her?" Maurice didn't want to hope, was afraid to hope. He put down his cup, nearly missing the table, fumbling so it hit with a cracking sound. He almost tripped over the chair in his hurry to get away from the table, out of Angela's quarters, and to the stairs.
Holly stood in the main room, arms wrapped tight around herself, staring at the Wishing Ball on the counter. It glowed and swirled with more magical light than Maurice had ever seen before. He stood in the doorway behind her, drinking in the sight of her, afraid she was just a dream.
He cleared his throat, not sure what he would say first.
"Maurice?" Holly turned around, pale and gasping. "I remember."
"Me? You remember me?"
"For good behavior." Asmondius's voice came from the Wishing Ball. "The terms of your exile still stand. One more year in reduced circumstances, but because of your good behavior and efforts toward reform, and because of the recommendations of your parole officer, the block on your sweetheart's memory is lifted." The Wishing Ball's light started to fade, then flared brighter. "Merry Christmas, lad."
"Thanks, Asmondius," Maurice said. He staggered only a few steps toward Holly. That was all right, because she staggered toward him and they met halfway and clung to each other. "So...you won't punch my lights out if I kiss you under the mistletoe?"
"I will if you make me wait for the mistletoe," Holly whispered, and slipped one hand around the back of his head, to bring his lips down to meet hers.
THE END