alotofgood | 001. december 1975.

Entry tags:

!oom,
lily evans

001. december 1975.

December, 1975 — 19:40 hours.
Hogwarts, Scotland.
Gryffindor Common Room.

The school halls are looking appropriately festive for the time of year, considering.

There's evergreen and red ribbon, shiny gold baubles and bells, and enchanted snow lining the halls, practically bursting from the stonework of the castle. And if one pauses, they could swear they can catch the faint scent of cinnamon or candy-cane wafting in the air.

It's bloody brilliant really, James thinks.

Christmas is one of his favourite times of the year.

It also means Sirius is going to be bringing just about everything he owns for the holidays, making his room a whole lot messier than it usually is. (And the mess has already made quite a name for itself, if he might say so himself.) Not that he minds, though; Sirius owns a lot of very cool stuff.

"Oy, Prongs! Ready for the holidays, mate?"

"Can't come soon enough," James grins, turning to his best mate who puts an arm over his shoulder.

"Yeah. Just think - in five short days, there will be a whole lot of not-particularly-legal drinking happening."

James laughs. "Really? I'd nearly forgotten about that. I only have three bottles of -"

"- Ogdens finest, I hope."

"Well, yeah."

Sirius suddenly releases his friend and runs a hand through his hair in that excruciatingly irritating way of his, the sort that means -

Right.

A group of Gryffindor girls pass them by, giggling amongst themselves. He spots Glynis amongst them.

James rolls his eyes. "Right," he says, "you've got to stop doing that. You're making the rest of us look bad."

It's Sirius' turn to laugh. "Yeah, well - that's your own fault then, isn't it? Getting hung up over Evans."

"I'm not -" he starts, shaking his head before stopping himself. "All right, never mind that -"

"D'you know, I've got the best idea," Sirius suddenly says, stopping in his tracks. James, who had taken a couple of steps without him, turns on his heel, tilting his head in confusion.

"You going to share with the rest of the class, Padfoot?"

"Enchanted mistletoe."

James raises an eyebrow. "What do you need enchanted mistletoe for, Sirius? It's not like -"

"Not for me, you idiot. 'Course I don't need it - look at me."

"Yeah, I'm looking and there's nothing really -"

"Shut it, Potter. No, it'd be for Wormy. Think about it. He hasn't really got much -"

James interrupts with a laugh, waving his hand. "Blimey, you're serious, aren't you?"

Sirius shrugs.

"Yeah, all right. You know, it's not your worst idea."

Later that evening, James is in one corner of the Gryffindor Common Room, fiddling about with a sprig of mistletoe and his wand, muttering charms at it.

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There are days Lily thinks being a prefect is a lot more trouble than it's worth.

Like any day that involves three Ravenclaw fourth years, an excess of holiday high spirits, Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks, and Moaning Myrtle.

She's spent the last twenty minutes in Professor Flitwick's office, trying to help get a particularly hysterical first year calmed down, and she can't remember the last time she was this glad to see the Gryffindor common room.

She sinks into the first empty seat she sees, without really looking around to see who might be sitting nearby.

And it's at that moment that James lets out a loud sigh from where he's hunched over the sprig of mistletoe.

It'd be so much easier for the lot of them if Peter would just grow a bloody pair and not need to have help from mistletoe that so far can throw its berries at the kissee, spray a fine mist of berry-juice, or scream bloody murder.

(That last bit actually scared him at first.

Plants should never be able to scream like that.)

"Bloody hell, I need a drink," he mutters under his breath.

Lily looks up at the sigh.

And just barely resists an urge to sigh herself.

Maybe she should just move over to the other side of the room.

Except that there's no reason for her to, except moving away from him, and that implies that she cares, which she doesn't.

Well.

He's probably done enough work with this poor, abused sprig of mistletoe for the night. He'll see if Sirius can't get a little more progress done tomorrow if he isn't busy doing - whatever it is he's doing at the moment.

He takes his glasses off to rub the spot between his eyes, then feeling a whole lot better after he stretches in his seat, he settles his glasses back upon his face and -

"Evans! I didn't see you there."

"Potter."

She looks down at the mistletoe. It's always a good idea to try to assess the likelihood of things exploding, when certain people are working spells.

Her eyes widen a little.

"Mistletoe?

"Getting a bit desperate, are we?"

His mouth is agape for a second.

First in disbelief (with a little bit of horror thrown in), then in disparagement.

"- what? No!" He pokes at the mistletoe with his wand. "Thank you, Evans, for your ever high opinion of me. Really."

"You're quite welcome, though I'm sure you're overestimating it."

Lily frowns.

"Just please promise me you're not doing anything I'm going to have to take a thousand points from my own House for, would you?"

"I solemnly swear," says James seriously, putting a hand to his heart and everything, "that I'm not doing anything that'll cause you, Lily Evans, to take a thousand points from Gryffindor.

"It's not for me, all right. It's for a mate, actually."

"Oh, of course," Lily says. "For 'a mate.'"

If he listens, he'll be able to hear the quote marks.

He does hear them.

And agh, his pride: it is wounded.

"D'you really think I'd need to use mistletoe in order to get a girl to kiss me?" he asks, sounding incredulous about the whole idea himself.

Yes, James Potter does think highly of his clout with the ladies.

Lily wrinkles up her nose, considering this, and then smiles brightly.

"Yes."

This is neither fair nor strictly speaking true.

At least as long as they keep to generalities.

In the case of specifics ... well, that's a horse of different color, now, isn't it?

"You're just taking the piss now," he mumbles.

He picks up the sprig of mistletoe, twirling it between his thumb and first finger.

"Right, then. Well so long as the shoe fits ..."

Lily raises an eyebrow.

And where her left hand had been empty a second ago, it now hold her own wand, in a way that only looks casual.

Just in case.

James' smile is perfectly innocent (so, therefore, not at all) and while he continues to twist the mistletoe between his fingers, he has had the chance to take note of her wand.

"Care to test that theory of yours?"

"Shall I go see if Moaning Myrtle is free, then?"

James Potter does not flinch.

To do so would be a sign of weakness.

But his face does crack a little in its usual arrogance.

The mistletoe even stops spinning.

But only for a second.

"Miss Myrtle is hardly the right sort of person for this sort of experiment. She's been willing to snog Sirius and I since we arrived at this school five years ago. Sadly, she isn't my type."

"Potter, if you think I'm going to walk into an opening like that, you're an idiot.

"Well, actually, you're an idiot either way, but if you think I'm going to walk into an opening like that, you're even more of an idiot than I thought you were, which I didn't think was possible."

James starts to laugh.

"Blimey, Evans. Take a joke, will you?"

He sets the mistletoe down on the table once more, looking as though he's satisfied with the result of his goading.

(Actually, he isn't. But - when life gives you lemons ...)

"The day I kiss you, it won't be through the use of something as ridiculous as mistletoe."

He grins.

Serene.

"Dare to dream, James Potter," she says.

But it's not quite as sharp as it could be.

She has, after all, met the evidence that that day is coming, even if she can't for the life of her see how.

Well, it wasn't a 'no', so that's something.

James shrugs, still resembling a self-satisfied cat.

A moment later, he straightens again and gestures at the sprig.

"Like I said, it's for a mate. For Peter, actually."

That, she supposes, makes sense.

Or as much sense as Potter and his mates ever do.

"All right. And what exactly are you trying to make it do?"

"Make Peter seem like a fairly attractive bloke, I suppose. Enough for a girl to think he was snoggable, anyway."

James feels like he shouldn't be spilling these things to a prefect, but he's never thought of Lily as the tattling sort.

"He just needs a bit of confidence, I think. He hasn't got much of it."

"And you really think that's going to help?" Lily asks. "Charming a bit of parasitic plant and tricking some girl into kissing him?"

Lily flicks her wand at the mistletoe, and it rises about a foot off the table, revolving slowly.

"It won't mean anything, so it won't change anything."

"He doesn't have to know that," James argues, watching the mistletoe spin for a bit before he's grabbing his wand and battling her for control of the levitating plant.

"He won't know that actually, if all goes well. It'll just be him and some girl who suddenly thinks he's brilliant. They'll have a snog under the mistletoe, she'll go about her day and he'll go about his. Except now, he won't be so bloody depressing about never having a date."

"Putting aside that that's terrible thing to do to your friend, not mention to this poor 'some girl,' what's going to happen the next day, when he's not standing under some enchanted mistletoe, and he asks her out or something?"

The mistletoe is spinning faster now.

"Besides, it's essentially a love potion, which means it's not allowed."

James scoffs.

"Who knows? Maybe this girl will actually fancy Pete back. Anyway, it isn't a love potion. It's simply mistletoe made to make the person appear a little less -"

Ratty?

"Depressing. And this is just a kiss. We're not charming it to marry them off or anything."

His tone clearly implies the 'lighten up, Evans' without him actually saying the words.

Lily looks at him for a moment.

"You really are an idiot," she says.

She flicks her wand again. "Incendio."

The mistletoe spinning between them bursts into flame.

"And I'm better at charms than you are."

"Bloody hell, Evans!" James shouts.

He lowers his wand.

And very firmly ignores the comment about his being an idiot.

He honestly sees nothing wrong with trying to give one of his best mates a chance to overcome his shyness with the opposite gender.

"Well, that's just brilliant. Now I'll have to nick another branch of that blasted mistletoe."

A pause.

Then, "You're all right at Charms."

Lily is, in fact, good enough at charms that she doesn't have to bother to reply to that.

The remains of the mistletoe, having burned itself out, drops onto the table again.

"Well, before you do, tell me something. Would you be okay with it if some Slytherin did it to Mary? Or Perdita? Or me?"

"No, of course not," says James heatedly. In fact, he doesn't have to think about it too much.

(If anyone dared to do something like that to Lily ...)

"Slytherins are a rotten bunch; everybody knows that. They've got horrible intentions and they probably have some Dark Magic agenda behind their reasoning."

He lets out a sigh.

"You seem to have a problem with our trying to give Peter a bit of confidence to talk to girls."

"I don't have a problem with your intent, Potter. I have a problem with your methods."

Lily hesitates, and then sighs.

"And honestly, Potter, mistletoe, enchanted or otherwise, isn't going to change the fact that we've all known him for five years and ... well, no one I know has a crush on Peter Pettigrew."

Would that she could say the same about Potter's other friends.

James has a quick look about them.

"Be a little louder about it next time, will you," he hisses. "Pete may be a bit difficult to find ... well."

No. He will not put one of his best mates down. Not even in front of Lily Evans.

"It could happen. Things can change, you know. People could get to know him a little better, learn that he's actually a really decent bloke."

Lily didn't think she'd been all that loud, but she drops her voice more.

"I'm not saying he's not a decent bloke, and I'm not saying it couldn't happen and I'm not saying things don't change.

"But they don't change because you cast a spell on a plant. Do you really think it's not going to get out that you did that? For one thing, you're working on it in the common room.

"And then what you've done is turn him into Pettigrew, 'you know, the one who couldn't get kissed without using enchanted mistletoe.' And it's going to get whispered about and we're all going to know.

"And on top of all that, whatever girl you have in mind for all this ought to get decide who she kisses without any kind of magical influence.

"Idiot."

Bugger.

James is never going to tell Lily anything ever again.

Ever.

Not only will he have to tell Sirius that their mistletoe was blasted into cinders, but he'll probably have to tell him all of this other poncy crap about Peter earning some sort of reputation, marked as a bloke who couldn't get kissed without an enchanted plant, and - and whatever else Lily just said.

Because, damn it all, she's making some semblance of sense in all of her ranting.

Eventually, he lets out a begrudging, "We'll think about it."

"Don't strain anything."

James opens his mouth to speak (and not without a bit of exasperation), just as someone calls out, "Oy! Prongs!"

Relieved, James turns around to see both Sirius and Peter enter the Common Room, sans Remus (who must still be at the library).

He waves them over.

Sirius gives the little bundle of ashes on the table in front of them a look before raising a perplexed eyebrow at James.

James shrugs helplessly.

"Evans." It's unclear whether Sirius means a greeting, or an accusation.

Peter glances at Lily and offers her a small smile. "G-good evening, Miss Evans."

Lily looks up at the arrivals and then back at Potter.

For half a second, he gets a bright, dazzling smile quite unlike anything he's ever seen from Lily Evans.

And then she looks back over her shoulder, to where Cliona and her boyfriend Fenton are all curled up in a chair with their own piece of mistletoe.

"Cliona? May I?" Lily asks, with a nod towand the mistletoe.

"Sure," Cliona says, and Fenton tosses it the few feet between them.

Lily catches it easily enough. "Thanks." She stands up, brings the hand with the mistletoe up over Pettigrew's head and then kisses him full on the mouth. "Merry Christmas, Peter.

"Black," she adds, with a short nod.

And then tosses the mistletoe back to Cliona and Fenton, and leaves for her room.

. . .

James is only vaguely aware that his glasses have slipped down the end of his nose, while his mouth hangs open for a moment.

"Did that just -"

That brilliant, brilliant smile.

And then -

Next to him, Sirius is laughing. The stupid git is laughing so hard, he's doubled over and all James wants to do, if he could get his limbs to start moving again, is hit him.

(It was his bloody ridiculous idea in the first place!)

Peter sort of licks his bottom lip and blinks rather stupidly.
"Um. I - I didn't know that was going to - that she -" he starts.

After a moment, James lets out a breath and waves his hand. (And he does hit Sirius. Gives him a good punch in the arm.)

"I reckon no one did, mate," he says.

(And he thinks he'd really rather be alone right now. Hitting things. Throwing things against the wall, even.

Bloody Lily Evans.)

Sirius rubs his arm, still chuckling. "Well, at least someone's got themselves a Merry Christmas. Eh, Pete?"

James glares at his best mate.

Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.

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001. december 1975.

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