There are lots of things that begin at Christmas. There's races with new cars and friendships and belief in Santa Claus. There's the beginning of a teddy bear's demise, complete with love and affection until its all worn out.
And then, of course, there's the beginning of the things that come at the end of Christmas movies.
What I mean to say is that there's the beginnings of hand holding, stolen kisses, and other soulmate kinds of things. And James couldn't decide if it was them or just Christmas.
Lily was staying for the Christmas Hols. Her father was in Wales, where Lily refused to go. Petunia was in Paris, with her boyfriend, at a drills conference and then Christmas under the Eiffel Tower. Or so she said.
James wasn't, until his mum got called for a mission and his dad got dragon pox, and then James was staying for Christmas.
And, of course, that meant Sirius had no place to go, and Remus liked spending his time at the castle anyway, especially if James and Sirius were there.
Peter had to go home to his mum, because she had just fallen down a flight of stairs and broken her hip and had a bad reaction to the potion she'd been given, and even as Pete hadn't had much contribution to the conversations of the Marauders, on the first day they didn't know what to do with themselves.
"I don't know if my ideas are good or bad, nobody's making approving noises," Sirius said dryly, ripping out page after page of a textbook he'd found lying about. "I feel like what I'm doing right now is bad but I can't tell."
"It's not good, if that's what you're asking," James chimed in morosely, letting his head droop onto his chest. "We need more people."
"We need more beer," Sirius said, staring at Remus pointedly.
"We need to use good judgement," Remus countered evenly, "and that good judgement seems to be telling me that the Three Broomsticks could be using a little less business."
"Did anyone else stay for Christmas?" James asked idly, done with the head drooping and settling onto the textbook pages that had been floating onto the floor, ripping them into pieces vehemently.
"Some fifth year bloke and his little sister," Remus said, thinking about the list the remaining prefects had received. "He's Ravenclaw, she's with us, poor girl. Um, bunch of younger snake boys and the usual older one-" round of disgusted noises "-and then some Hufflepuffs and more Ravens, and then, of course, James' favourite."
"What d'you mean, my favourite?" James asked, becoming suddenly interested in the conversation. "Do I have a favourite?"
Sirius snickered.
"Yeah, mate, you do. And, if I'm not mistaken, that's her textbook you're demolishing," Remus said with a smug smile.
Sirius turned white and checked the inside cover. "Shit," he muttered quickly, brushing the pages James had missed underneath his armchair. "Fucking hell."
In a world where timing was off ever so slightly, Remus would sometimes wonder whether anything would ever happen with Lily and James if she had walked in on them and their shredding. Maybe she would've yelled and never made up with them, because, as he realized later, a new textbook was not an option. Neither, of course, was reparo, for some pages were nowhere to be found.
Of course, the reality of the situation was that Lily walked in not 30 minutes later wondering where her textbook could be, because she'd seen it last on her comfy armchair and it was no longer there.
And, when she found it in strips decorating the plush carpet of the common room, she did tear up. Then she became resigned to stealing the one in the store cabinet like she did in fourth year when she spilled shrinking solution all over her old book.
And, she did get an astonishing Christmas present, but that's for later.
Lily had gotten a letter from her father. It simply talked about how the countryside hadn't changed and he wished that once she would decide to come out and stay with him there. Lily, of course, denied. For reasons she didn't like to talk about, that house in Wales was exactly what she didn't need around Christmastime, and it hadn't been for years. She hadn't gone home for Christmas in what seemed like decades.
James had gone home for Christmas for what seemed like decades. He wished that his parents had a magic mirror as well, because he'd sent a letter home on the first day, and neither parent had written back as of the first three mornings he'd spent in the castle.
"Have you gotten any mail?" he asked Remus on the third day.
"Why would I have gotten any mail?" Remus responded. "It's not even been a week James, you've gone for months without letters."
"Yes, but its Christmas," James said, feeling petulant. "You'd think they'd write!" He glanced over the rest of the table to see Lily reading her letter and setting it down with a dejected sigh. "Evans has got a letter. Oi! Evans!"
"What?" Lily asked from her end of the table, sounding more than a bit aggravated.
"Just wondering if it's normal to get letters from your parents during Christmas. I'd have thought you'd have a bit more experience." James held up his hands in an almost helpless gesture. "My dad's hung up in St. Mungo's, you'd think he'd have nothing better to do then to write to his darling son."
"My dad writes once a week, ever since my sister moved out," Lily said.
"And your mum?" James asked before Remus could stomp on his foot.
"She died back in second year," Lily said simply, turning back to her waffles.
"Do you have any tact whatsoever?" Remus hissed at James, stomping again. James winced. "You knew that!"
James didn't say anything.
"Hey, Evans, look, I'm really sorry that I asked-" James said, running up after her when she'd gotten up from breakfast.
"About my mum? I know, Potter. And I know you don't want me to be mad at you because you said something completely innocent, and I'm not. It's been three years, I'm not cut up about the fact that it slipped your mind or you never found out or anything like that." Lily smiled, a half smile that made James' lips itch fiercely.
"It's fine, all right? We're moving on, like we said we would, yeah?" Lily paused expectantly while James stood there like an idiot, wishing that he could think of something to say back. A weak "yeah" was all he managed.
"See you around, Potter," Lily said with another one of those smiles and then turned and walked back up the hallway.
It was a week into the Christmas Holidays. James had exhausted all of his saved up "rainy day ideas" while it was sunny and he was bored, so when it really rained he had no plans for what to do.
It wasn't as if it was the kind of rain that you could go walk around in, it was cold and miserable and pounding down on all the roofs in the castle. It was the kind of rain that felt as if it was going to burst right through the enchanted ceiling and make their toast into mush.
That's why when James saw Lily walk outside as he was running to the Great Hall for breakfast, he crept behind her to see where she was going and if she was off her rocker. It was december and it was freezing, and it might have well have been raining ice.
James watched in silence underneath the awning of the front door as Lily stepped out into the rain, without even pulling her cloak around her. She stood there for a bit, until James couldn't let her stand there anymore.
"Evans! Evans!" Lily turned around, her eyes wide.
"Potter?" she asked quickly. "I, uh... what are you doing out here?" She walked closer, suddenly pulling her coat closer and shivering. "You following me?"
"No! Well... yeah. But only- only to-" James sputtered wildly.
"I'm not going to bite your head off, you know," she said, hair dripping. "But is there a reason you were being creepy? I mean, besides the usual."
"I was wondering why anyone would want to walk around in this rain, you know, aside from an odd wish to spend Christmas in the Hospital Wing." James' hair jumped to his hair and he smiled self consciously.
"I like when it rains around Christmastime," Lily said, seemingly far away. "I hate snow."
"Odd, I'd had you pegged for the kind of girl who still has snowball fights and writes poems about how the snowflakes are different but all individual in your journal at midnight," James joked.
"I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Lily smiled and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "No, I just... I hate snow, but I love rain. But I'm really cold, so can we move this lovely conversation inside?"
"If you're so cold, how come you went out into the rain like that?"
Lily squeezed her hair out onto the Entrance Hall floor and winced. "Promise you won't laugh? Or tell Sirius? Or-"
"You think I'm going to mess up this conversation that actually sounds like two humans are having it instead of two time bombs?" James chuckled slightly.
"James-" Lily started, sounding exasperated.
"I promise," James cut in, trying to hide his smile.
"It's easier to cry in the rain without anyone noticing," she said quietly.
"So you do write poetry," James said, trying as hard as he could to look innocent and as far from laughing as anyone can look.
Lily reached out and punched him softly on the arm. "No, you dolt, I just hate Christmas."
"And that's where we part so that I can go enjoy my Christmas, because when we're married I clearly won't be having many good ones, seeing as you have that attitude." James bowed dramatically and pretended to tip his hat. "See you again?"
"No thanks," Lily said, wanting to laugh, and then James was gone and her face fell ever so slightly until he was out of sight. She stood in the entrance hall for a minute, and the she walked back out under the awning and let the great wooden door swing shut behind her.
Finding no need to finish her cry, she just sat for a bit, and then she went inside for a cup of cocoa.
James, on the other hand, walked, keeping himself composed until he ran into an unknown corridor, spinning in circles, all thoughts of breakfast gone from his mind. They'd just talked for real. She'd called him James. She'd just bloody told him that she cried in the rain.
That's something that she's never told anybody, he thought, spinning again. And maybe it was because he was just there, but who cared? At least he got to talk to her now. He'd just have to be there a little more often than before.
James spun and spun until he hit a wall, and then he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, smiling crazily. He would be there as often as possible. You know, without him looking like a jerk. Or a stalker.