001. december 1975.

[alotofgood]

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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[alotofgood]

. . .


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.