This is so not her fault. Who: Narcissa and the shreds of her dignity and anybody who happens to be around/woken up What: Hot chocolate Where: In the kitchen When: About 5 in the morning on December 24. Warnings: Carolling. She's so, so sorry.
Insomnia is a serious problem, and not one Narcissa suffers from. But her sleep has been a little broken of late, both from worrying over the potential havoc these researchers may cause, and from fretting over spending Christmas here, instead of with her family. Granted, some of her family are here, but thanks to the vagaries of time, it's just not the same.
So when she wakes far too early from another less than restful sleep, Narcissa pads down to the kitchen, a silk robe thrown on over her nightgown and fluffy blue slippers on her feet.
Moving around quietly, she sets about making herself a hot chocolate. When the smell of the perfect blend of cocoa, sugar and milk hits her nose, she smiles, instantly transported to similar mornings at home… and she even hums a little as she sips.
…a few bars later, she even recognises the tune.
--and then a lovely, sweet and clear soprano fills the kitchen. The owner of that voice at first looks surprised, then resigned, then really, really irritated.
"Adeste fideles læti triumphantes, Venite, venite in Bethlehem. Natum videte Regem angelorum: Venite adoremus, venite adoremus, venite adoremus Dominum.
Deum de Deo, lumen de lumine Gestant puellæ viscera. Deum verum, genitum non factum. Venite adoremus, venite adoremus, venite adoremus Dominum.
Cantet nunc io, chorus angelorum; Cantet nunc aula cælestium, Gloria in excelsis Deo, Venite adoremus, venite adoremus, venite adoremus Dominum.
Ergo qui natus die hodierna. Jesu, tibi sit gloria, Patris aeterni Verbum caro factum. Venite adoremus, venite adoremus, venite adoremus Dominum-- you are joking."