Merry Christmas, Hanukkah Sameach (XV may have to correct me on that), Happy Kwanza (tomorrow, I've been told), or Happy whatever holiday you celebrate. Otherwise, Happy Wednesday to everyone who doesn't.

Every year I try to do a little Christmas fic aside from all my other WIP to make me smile at the very least. I'm hoping it makes a few of you smile too. It's full of fluff and nonsense.

As always it is not beta-ed. I probably could have asked one of you but it's Christmas, so I didn't want to.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**-0-**

The snow had been falling heavily since the morning, covering New York City in a blanket of magic. The most they'd had in a decade, the newscasters were saying. A wonder. A miracle for Christmas.

Miranda Priestly just found it annoying.

Half of Runway was unable to make the journey to the office and after she'd fired six of them, she realised no amount of firing would get her any further forward.

She supposed she would have Andréa rehire them once the roads were passable. As if summoned by her thoughts, Andréa walked through the door, carrying two duffel bags and a tray of coffee.

"Morning Miranda," she muted, her usual smile absent as she placed the coffee on her desk.

"Andréa, why are you late? If everyone was as late as you, we would never get anything done at all. Consider this your official warning."

Andréa looked as if she was about to argue but she sighed.

"Fine," she muttered. "What do you need?"

"12 skirts from Calvin Klein and while you are in that side of town, drop into Stella and pick up the drawings from her spring collection. If she cannot deliver them on time, then she needn't call again."

Andréa looked at her like she was crazy and she swallowed the irritation. Why did nobody understand the importance of their jobs?

"Right," she sighed. "I," Andréa looked at her then at the city over her shoulder. "Never mind," she rolled her eyes and left without another word.

To be honest, Miranda found the change that Andréa had gone through in the last year and a half a little startling. Where she'd once been free and easy with her affection, she was now closed and often rather short with everyone. Miranda has come to appreciate the lack of babbling, but it certainly gave her moments of pondering as to what had happened. There has been a light in her eyes at the beginning of her tenure, it had not been present in a long time.

Yes, there had also been Paris. That was something she didn't like to think about too often, but she thought they had forgotten the nightmare that it had been. Indeed, Andréa had knocked on her door the next morning after Miranda had thought she had left, and they had carried on as they had before. Nobody even knew she had nearly left. Miranda ran the arm of her glasses over her lip and looked blankly at her notes again. The snow continued to fall, characterised by the muting of the noises outside her window and she tapped her fingernails on the desk beside her phone. It would perhaps be better to call Andréa back, lest the roads get worse but, she considered if she had the sketches at least she could do some work while the twins were at their father's.

She pushed the phone away and turned to the window. She tried to recall the last time she'd spent Christmas on her own and sought to immediately banish the memories that followed. It had been her first Christmas out of home. She'd expected her mother to invite her back with open arms. She'd even talked to her the day before, but the door had gone unanswered and when she'd peered in the window she'd seen all she needed to. Her mother, ignoring the doorbell, sitting down to dinner with the new husband and Miranda's two half-brothers.

She shivered, though the temperature remained a comfortable 74 degrees. Christmas was one of her least favourite holidays for that reason and this year her children had abandoned her for their father and his promise of a new X-box.

How she wished they would wise up to his tactics. He promised their girls the world and so very rarely delivered.

A knock disturbed her.

"What?" She muttered, turning at the last minute. "Nigel."

"Where's Andy?"

"Doing her job," Miranda said as short as possible. She may have worked hard to repair their relationship, but she was still the boss.

"You sent her out?" he gaped. "In this?"

"It is nothing," she muttered, looking over her notes. "A little flurry."

"You're an idiot," Nigel growled. She looked up at him, ready to unload both barrels at him but he was already leaving, talking into his phone.

"Everyone is going home," he called. "I'm making the call."

"Nigel!"

"Fire me," he growled. "This is projected to be the worst fall in thirty years. They're talking about a curfew. A blizzard. The city is shutting down."

She rolled her eyes. He was always so dramatic.

She tried to ignore them as they left in droves but it wasn't until she finally heard the last door shut did she realise they really had all left. She rolled her eyes at them. How silly they would all feel in the morning when they would return to work as normal.