Chapter Seven

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   Normally this was the best time of year; the autumn and winter months that ran up to Christmas were always filled with the buzzing excitement that carried them to December twenty fifth, when Father Christmas made his epic journey across the globe, bringing joy to all the land.

Harry didn't want to let his funny mood influence his day, so he gave his whole body a good shake then began to hum a carol. On a normal day, he would typically be the first to work, eager to see his many friends, but today thanks to his lolly-gagging he was precariously close to being late.

"Harry!"

He turned to find Bobby and Joe scampering up behind him along the woodland path, kicking up clouds of light, powdery snow. They all wore matching green tunics that marked them as having the most prestigious job in all of Christmas Land; toy makers at Santa's workshop. As usual, Bobby's belt buckle was polished, his buttons neat and his hair combed neatly under his hat. Joe on the other hand had miss-matching shoes, his gloves were inside out, his name badge was upside down...and he couldn't have looked happier if he'd tried. He was the one that had called to Harry, and waved enthusiastically at him right until he was close enough to give him a crushing hug hello.

"Isn't it a wonderful day!" he exclaimed.

"Absolutely," Harry agreed as he let him go again, but something in his voice must have given him away, because both Bobby and Joe frowned at him.

"What's wrong?" Bobby asked, putting his hand to Harry's forehead. "You don't have tummy ache do you?"

Harry shook his head, dislodging his hand. "No, I'm fine," he insisted.

Joe gasped. "Did you burn your breakfast? Do we need to run to the bakery?"

Harry chuckled and continued walking again, his friends beside him. "Guys, I'm fine, really," he said. "I didn't sleep well. I think I had a bad dream." Joe and Bobby stopped in their tracks, matching looks of horror on their faces. "What?" Harry asked, an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"A...bad dream?" Joe repeated.

"Not a sweet one?" Bobby asked.

Harry stopped walking as well and frowned at them. "It's no big deal," he said with a shrug. "It just happens."

But they shook their heads. "No, it doesn't," Bobby said, troubled.

"Maybe over in Halloween Land," Joe added with a scoff and a shudder. "But no one ever gets bad dreams here." Harry, blinked, taken aback. He didn't know that. How come he didn't know that and his friends did?

"What was it about Harry?" Bobby asked, stepping closer to him and touching his elbow in a comforting manner.

Harry felt uneasy with his friends' attention so fixed on him, but he supposed it would be a good idea to talk about it. "Um, I don't know. I think I was lost?"

"Oh no!"

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Joe said, and gave him another hug. "Weren't you with your friends, or your family?"

Harry frowned, trying to remember. "I think I was looking for someone?" He kicked his boot through the snow, creating a little gully. They were still on the outskirts of town, their path surrounded by pine trees. Several squirrels and owls had gathered in the branches, listening in on their conversation.

"Who were you looking for?" Bobby asked gently. He steered him so they could sit down on a log that was mostly protected by the trees and only had a little snow on it. "Bad dreams are very rare Harry, it must mean something important if you had one."

"Really?" Bobby nodded solemnly, and Harry felt silly again for not knowing that. "Well..." Harry scrunched up his face as he concentrated. "I think it was a special friend."

"Like a girlfriend?" Bobby asked.

"Or a boyfriend!" Joe added with a dreamy twirl. "Harry, you never said you had anyone special!"

Harry pulled his glasses off and rubbed them on his green tunic for something to distract himself. "Exactly, they can't be real if you two don't know about them? I think maybe I just imagined them," he added miserably, putting the glasses back on. The truth was, now he was picturing his dream-beau, he very much wanted them to be real. He couldn't shake the feeling that they needed saving, but that was probably just the nightmare playing tricks with his mind.

"Tell us about them," Joe pressed.

"Do we know them?" Bobby asked sensibly.

Harry wasn't sure how to answer that – how could he, when he wasn't even sure if he knew them. "Um," he began, twiddling his thumbs between his knees. "He's got blond hair."

"He's a he!"

"And he's a blond!"

The boys high-fived, and the animals drew in closer, flocking down from the trees so as to hear Harry better. He felt a bit shy, but also encouraged by the crowd, so he dug a little deeper, thinking of the boy he'd dreamed of in a clearing in an enchanted forest.


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