Summary: In the tradition of You-and-Me Nuggets.
How did James get Lily to reconsider he might be better than the giant squid? How did Harry propose to Ginny? And how do Rose and her mother make Ron grumpy despite the holiday food?
Three generations of redheads and certain significant Christmases in their lives...
Categories: Various Pairings Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2141
Read: 3875
Published: 01/07/09
Updated: 01/10/09
1. Yule and You-and-Me by lucilla_pauie
Yule and You-and-Me by lucilla_pauie
Author's Notes:
Originally written for Secret SPEW 2008, for jenny_b, who requested either Marauder Era, Harry/Ginny or Next Gen. I gave her all, along with 'wintry, fires, snow, hot chocolate and cuddling'. With thanks and hot cocoa to Bine for being the dearest beta.
Yule and You-and-Me
Falling...
On that first morning of the winter hols in her sixth year, against an opalescent sky, an owl winged elegantly toward Lily’s bedroom window.
She’d seen it coming, so the owl was able to swoop past the sash Lily had raised, and perched on her dressing table pouf.
“Are you from school?” Lily muttered. “No, you’re not.”
The envelope was not addressed in green ink and it didn’t bear the Hogwarts crest. But then none of her friends’ owls was as chic as this one.
Suppressing a yawn, she took her post and brought it to her bed. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she read.
“Dear Miss Evans,
Greetings.
We ask for the honour of your presence in a small avant-Noel gathering. We wouldn’t want to impose on our guests’ family’s plans, hence our little luau takes place tonight, December 22nd.
You will find enclosed a Portkey (for three o’clock in the afternoon) and a letter of acquiescence for your parents. Do forgive the tardiness of this invitation. But there is no need for time. No gifts, formal robes, or any frippery are desired.
We hope you will come.
Sincerely,
Mr and Mrs Potter
Our son, James has told us so much about you, dear. And we will be grateful if you will come be with us, and also help him with a certain Muggle contraption he has bought. He said it is called Altair? It’s supposed to light up and do things, but it hasn’t and won’t, and we don’t really understand it.
Mrs Potter
That postscript, written in Mrs Potter’s neat and stylish handwriting, made Lily sputter soundlessly. Potter bought an Altair? What for? The idiot. And now she was supposed to go to his house and teach him how to operate it? Didn’t those things come with instructions? Or did Potter and Black burn it already?
On the other hand, his parents were the ones who’d sent the invitation. It was such a nice invitation, too. Straightforward and simple, with no pomp and affectation. It was as if especially composed for those their age. She wondered who else had been invited aside from the Marauders.
“Lily! Tuney! Breakfast!”
“What is that?” was Tuney’s snippy greeting as they met each other in the hall.
Lily didn’t even look at her sister. She was tired of Petunia now, had given up hoping she’d come around and change back into the sister Lily had loved from this bitter shrew. “An invitation to a small party.”
Petunia snorted derisively. Before they made it to the kitchen, Lily had already decided she’d go. The Potters’ invitation was too sincere and kind to turn down anyway. And really, anything to get away from this hag.
She loved her parents, but the few hours before she was supposed to leave was marred by Petunia’s increasingly insufferable behavior. It was with a sigh of relief that she touched the little whalebone button included in the Potters’ invitation.
The Portkey deposited her-- and the apple pie her mother had insisted she take-- to a foyer gleaming with rosewood and ivory. Ahead, there was the end of an angled staircase. On either side of it branched two halls. From the right one emerged an old man and woman who both had James’s hazel eyes.
“You must be Miss Evans,” said Mr Potter warmly.
“Welcome, dear.” Mrs Potter put an arm around her shoulder and began steering her further into the house. Though it could well be called a mansion.
“My mum made this for you,” Lily said. Her arm and elbow were beginning to protest.
“Isn’t that very kind of her? I shall write her my thanks. It smells exquisite!” Mrs Potter took the foil-wrapped, beribboned pie. “Boys, Lily Evans has arrived.”
Lily stiffened but felt her muscles loosening in spite of themselves because of the beauty and charm of the drawing room. It was so light. Intricately embroidered white muslin drapes dominated the far wall, covering what must be floor-to-ceiling windows. The white marble hearth was big enough to roast all four of the Marauders with much room to spare. A fire crackled merrily there, giving off the pleasant tang of apple-wood and pine. The rest of the room was made sunny by furniture upholstered in yellow. Boughs, wreaths and sprigs of holly and mistletoe reminded everyone of Yule here and there, where the greens were gracefully entwined with potted poinsettias.
But the ‘boys’ were not in the room.
“Where did they disappear to?” exclaimed Mrs Potter. Her husband shrugged with the air of a man who was used to this.
No other guests arrived. The Potters plied Lily with hot cocoa and biscuits while they waited for the dinner hour, and talked to her without prying or being demanding. They were so nice it made Lily’s suspicious whether James was a goblin changeling.
“Evans! Fancy seeing you here!”
They turned around to find Sirius and James entering the drawing room just then, dragging a tree. Remus and Peter trailed them, both shivering and stamping. And no wonder. They weren’t wearing scarves or cloaks! They hurried to the fire.
“I thought you said let’s not bother with a tree this year?” said Mr Potter, stoically Vanishing the twigs and needles in the wake of the tree. He ignored the two boys’ melodramatic heaving and panting. He just followed them to the corner by the hearth.
“You must have misheard us, Dad,” James said in between grunting as he and Sirius pushed the tree upright. “I said let’s not bother with Aunt Bree this year.”
“Well, of course we won’t, Bree’s been dead thirty years.”
Sirius sniggered. James kicked him.
Lily noticed, not without puzzlement, that James had yet to look at her.
When he did, it was only after he and his friends had finished pouring themselves a cup of hot chocolate. He smiled at her and doffed both his infantile and superior air. Lily’s breath caught in her chest. “Hi, Lily,” he greeted simply. “Glad you came.” He replaced her empty cup with his, fragrant and warm.
Plunging...
“If I remember right, this is the very first personal computer. It came out in the 1970’s. Seventy-five, I think. What’s it called again, Hermione?”
“How would I know? I’m not into computers much. I prefer dead tree stuff. Recycled, that is.”
“Is this its name, maybe? Look. Altair?”
Harry beamed at Ginny and nodded.
“Before I get you and incinerate whatever you’re wasting time on, come down here now and help with dinner!”
Ginny would have sworn everyone in the Burrow jumped. But they grinned wryly at each other. It was nice to have this crotchety Molly back again. She’d been mopey for quite a while. They’d missed her no-nonsense, dragon temper. Especially during the holidays.
Something seemed special this year. Everything was plopping back into place. Hagrid had been called in by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for questioning about a juvenile chimera. And here her father had brought home an ancient computer. Just like old times, Mum was furiously brassed off.
Ginny, Harry, Hermione and Ron came down to a silent, empty kitchen.
“Where’s Mum gone?” asked Ron.
“ ‘In the eon it took you to come down to help me, Andromeda called in the Floo and convinced me that it would do you good to prepare your own Yule dinner for a change and do me good to be away and have tea with a friend.
Love, Mum.’ ”
They stared at Hermione as she chuckled at the end of the missive she’d read. “So that’s why we’re suddenly alone in the house. No one wants to cook.”
She pinned the note back on apron slung over the oven door and walked out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” called Ginny.
“Back to my parents’ house!” Hermione yelled back.
They heard Ron laughing with her and then there were the unmistakable faint cracks of their Disapparition. Ron and Hermione had made their escape, too.
“I hate Mum’s wicopause*,” Ginny muttered.
Harry just grinned and went to the wireless. He tuned in on Lee’s program and air-guitared a spatula.
“Christmas time is here again,
Christmas time is here again,
Christmas time is here again,
Christmas time is here again.
I've been around since you know when.*”
Ginny smiled and sent potatoes spinning out of their skins in the sink. “That’s my line, though. I’ve been the one always waiting for you.”
She’d mumbled those things more to herself than to him, but he must have heard her. He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her soundly on the lips. Then he spun her around and showed her what he’d surreptitiously done to one of her fingers. She gasped.
“Ginny in the sky with diamonds,
Ginny in the sky with diamonds,
Ginny in the sky with diamonds,
Ah... Ah...*” Harry sang, his beautiful green eyes sparkling.
Soaring...
“What’s the use of returning to your hearth and home? I’ve already finished everything!” Rose grumbled teasingly, rising to kiss her mother and father on the cheeks.
“Ah, good. I won’t have to do anything, then,” said Hermione.
“Yes, you will, Mum. The dishes.”
Hermione laughed and went with her to the kitchen.
Rose snuggled against her mother’s arm. Outside, snow swirled in gentle eddies, as though revolving to a slow song. The house was snug and warm, redolent of mint, meat, and merriness. Soon, her cousins and aunts and uncles would arrive. It had been her parents’ turn to host the big Christmas dinner. Hermione and Ron had been invited to a party for that day, though, by a wizard who patronized both the shop and her mother’s committee projects in the DMLE. So they had gone, and asked Rose to cook. Because Hugo had gone off Merlin knows where after plucking the turkey and chickens.
“These are wonderful, Rosie! You can marry your boyfriend now,” her mother said saucily, rinsing the teaspoon she had used to taste the potatoes, the stew, the roast, and the desserts.
“What boyfriend?” Ron thundered predictably, coughing over the slice of pie he had taken. And then he flushed, seeing Rose's and her mother's grins.
“What are you choking for, Dad? I’m twenty-seven! I can even marry if I want to.”
“Your mother’s right. This is good.”
“Oooh, touchy subject.” Rose giggled with his mother.
Her father just glared at them.
“Well, I’m going out for a bit. Mum, don’t let Dad finish off the pies!”
She could have Apparated from the foyer or even right from the kitchen, but the snow looked so pure and soft from the windows. As soon as she was out the door of her parents’ house, she turned her face up and let the flakes kiss her cheeks.
And then she whirled and Disapparated with a pop and a giggle.
She reappeared in the sitting room of a small log cabin, so charming and cozy in its old red chintz furniture and its glittering icicle-festooned, faerie-lit tree.
“Scorpius?” she called out.
He appeared in the loft and frantically shushed her with a finger over his lips.
Rose giggled again, softly, and went to him up the stairs. “Sorry. Is she sleeping?”
“Like an angel.” Scorpius opened his arms to her. She went gladly. “You smell like winter, love.”
“And you smell like a baby. Milk, baby powder, sweetness.” She pressed her face to his chest and breathed him in. “So, are you ready for your first Weasley Christmas?”
“Of course I am. Though I can’t wait until it’s next year so it’s just you and me and”but ugh, the year after that, it’s my family’s turn again and I think Mother’s planning to take us to the house in Belize.” And then he cleared his throat. “How’s your father?”
“Grumpy as a bear.” Rose laughed.
He sighed. “You’d think we hadn’t been married for three years.”
“Well, you did turn his daughter into a Malfoy. And then we gave him a little-missy-Malfoy he’s absolutely crazy about. Let’s give him a decade to forgive that.”
*wicopause - The witches’ equivalent to Muggle women’s menopause. Here, there are some hormone disturbances (same symptoms as menopause) due to the witches’ magic refreshing itself for the next half of the witch’s life. Patent LucillaJoanna. ^_^
*Christmas Time is Here Again, Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, Ringo Starr, The Beatles.
End Notes:
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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.