Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR, and I am making no money from this fic.
Warning: Underage consumption of an alcoholic beverage. (And, erm, implied parental snoggage?)
Author's Notes: Written as a Christmas present for my darling duva, with much, much, much love.
Be dears and leave me a review, please?
o.o.o.o
"This is the part of Christmas I like best," murmured James, from his end of the sofa.
Sirius lifted his eyebrows, and even went so far as to crack open one eye to peer curiously at his best friend. "What?"
"This," James said, waving one hand -- the hand with the goblet of mulled wine, Sirius noted with some alarm -- to encompass the whole room. "The tree with the lights and the ornaments, the fire, the snow outside, the presents all piled under the tree, the quiet and the excitement. It's the best part."
Sirius snorted. "I like the presents," he returned lazily. Then he glanced at the goblet in his own hand, and added, "Well, and this mulled wine of your parents', too."
"Of course," said James, rolling his eyes. "You would."
"It's good stuff," Sirius assured him. He took another drink, and distantly heard the front door open. "Nothing so good as, you know, eggnog, or anything, but good stuff."
"My friend, the connoisseur."
"Hush," snapped Sirius, and he would have thrown a pillow at James, except he was afraid of spilling the mulled wine.
"What's all this noise?" came a soft feminine voice from the foyer, and Mrs. Potter appeared in the doorway, still unwinding the scarf from around her neck. She smiled fondly at the two boys. "Not a quarrel, I hope?"
"We weren't gone that long," replied her husband, entering the room. He must have taken his hat off before he got inside, because there were snowflakes clinging to his hair... just like his wife.
James looked at them for a moment, the way they were standing unusually close to each other, and the blush on his mother's cheeks. He made a face as Sirius, obviously noticing the same things, laughed.
"Aw, Mum," he whined, covering his eyes, and both his parents smiled.
"How cute!" Sirius cooed, on his knees leaning over the back of the couch. "So nice of the lovebirds to come back inside -- did you really even need to run to the store?"
Mrs. Potter giggled, which was a strange thing for her to do, and Mr. Potter cleared his throat, asking, "Have you boys saved us any of that mulled wine, then?"
"Yep," said James hurriedly, reaching to the coffee table for the bottle. "Right here, Dad."
Mr. Potter came around the sofa, took the bottle and, conjuring a pair of goblets, poured himself and his wife each a glass. Mrs. Potter stretched her arm across the sofa and accepted the goblet. "Thank you for not drinking it all, boys," she said, dropping a kiss on her son's head, and then one on Sirius's.
Sirius beamed at her. "Of course not, Mrs. Potter."
"If you weren't quarreling," began Mr. Potter, settling into an armchair near his son, "then what have you been up to for the past half an hour?"
"Admiring the tree," Sirius said promptly, grinning at the decoration in question.
"It's so much happier than he's used to," commented James dryly, rolling his eyes. His parents cast him indulgent smiles.
Sirius stuck his tongue out at James and went on, "And just before you got back, James was telling me all about what he likes best about Christmas."
"And what might that be?" Mrs. Potter asked, circling the room and settling into a spot on the arm of her husband's chair. His arm wrapped around her waist quite naturally, and the next moment she was leaning into him.
James, with carefully averted eyes, answered his mother in a rather restrained fashion. "The night before."
"I like the mulled wine," announced Sirius, swallowing what was left in his goblet, as if to demonstrate.
James eyed him thoughtfully.
"What?" Sirius demanded, flopping back into his corner.
"You need more," his friend announced, and proceeded to remove the bottle from his father's grasp. He filled Sirius's cup, then said "And so do I," promptly filling his own as well.
"Good thinking," agreed Sirius contentedly, over Mrs. Potter's soft laughter.
There was a moment of companionable silence, as they sat in front of the merrily twinkling tree and the exuberantly crackling fire, enjoying their wine and each other's company.
"What did you get me for Christmas?" James suddenly asked, almost out of nowhere as far as Sirius was concerned.
Sirius grinned, saying "Chocolate Frogs" at the same time as Mr. Potter insisted "We can't tell you that!"
"Oh, good, that's what I got you," declared James, getting up and moving to retrieve his present to Sirius from under the tree. He looked very pleased with himself.
"Hey!" protested Sirius, though he didn't move, and Mrs. Potter was giggling again.
"You'd share anyway," James said, deftly removing the gift paper he'd put on just that afternoon because he was lazy that way.
"Not the point," Sirius muttered. But he caught the Chocolate Frog James threw at his head without further comment, and a few moments later they were all munching happily on the sweets.
"You'll have to replace that present," remarked Mrs. Potter eventually, though the chocolate ring around her lips made her look rather unconvincing as far as Sirius was concerned.
James groaned.
An equally chocolate-faced Mr. Potter leveled an otherwise stern gaze on him. "Son..."
"Yes, Mum," James hurried to say, then shoved another Chocolate Frog into his mouth. Probably to stop a very unmanly giggle from escaping, thought Sirius, letting out an emasculating sound of amusement himself.
"If you don't," said Sirius, speaking to James but looking into his goblet. "I shall steal all of yours."
"You're not allowed to steal from me," retorted James. He reached over and took Sirius's cup. "It's the other way around."
"Wanker," muttered Sirius.
"Twat," muttered James.
"Boys!"
Sirius and James shared an unrepentant but apologetic glance. "Sorry, Mum," James said, while Sirius nodded his agreement, even though he couldn't quite keep down a slightly drunken chuckle. She sighed, and shook her head.
"No more wine for you two tonight," announced Mr. Potter. He took the bottle back and poured the last of it into Mrs. Potter's goblet, then added, somewhat mournfully, "No more wine for any of us tonight."
"There's another couple of bottles in the kitchen," replied Mrs. Potter.
A wand was produced, the bottles summoned, and another one opened. "Good," said Mr. Potter, sipping his drink contentedly. "Happy Christmas, everyone."
"Happy Christmas!" chorused James and Sirius, very pleased with themselves, as they had managed to sneak another goblet full of wine apiece. "Happy Christmas!"
The whole evening went rather like that.
When Sirius fell asleep, it was with his head on James's shoulder, a teasing murmur trapped on the tip of his tongue, never quite making it past his slightly parted lips. A lock of hair fell down across his forehead, and made him look something like the ghost of Christmas innocence.
Mrs. Potter said as much, and both Mr. Potters only laughed at her, having trouble, even with the help of several bottles of mulled wine, imagining Sirius as anything remotely innocent.
James drifted off shortly after Sirius did, his head nodding down to rest against his friend's. A soft snore escaped from one of them, it was impossible to tell which, and Mrs. Potter smiled fondly as she draped a blanket over them and kissed the tops of their heads.
"Goodnight, my darlings," she murmured affectionately, gently tucking the fleece blanket in around the edges. "Happy Christmas."
The words seemed to hang in the air, as the fire burned merrily into the night and the snow came down outside, with two young boys asleep in front of a Christmas tree, dreaming about mulled wine and presents and chocolate and family.
Happy Christmas.