"You know he'd love it—"

"He's only a baby, James!" Lily said impatiently. "He can't even talk. He can't even walk for God's sake!"

"Then we'll be starting him off right!" James replied with no hesitation whatsoever, grinning, as always, in a rather lopsided manner.

"Sure we will," Lily sighed, though there was the slightest smile on her face.

"And won't it be something to tell our friends?" her husband went on, grinning. "'Oh, you know our son—Harry? Not to brag or anything, but he was flying before he could even walk.'" He gave a short, bark-like laugh, as though channeling Sirius in this moment of great importance. After all, he seemed to think, what was Christmas without a broomstick?

"That's not something you do for their first Christmas," she reasoned. "Really, there was this lovely plush owl, I think he'd like that."

"He'd like a broomstick more."

"Other than being completely reckless, there are thousands of reasons—" began Lily, very bossily.

"The first being that you're too boring?"

"Just because I don't go on flying motorcycles with my best mate and go around wearing lame T-shirts with Phoenixes on them—"

"Those are cool!" James cried indignantly.

"They're bad, James."

"They're amazing."

"Fine," said Lily. "They're fantastic. The point is, rubbishy T-shirt or not—"

"Not!" James said quickly.

"—our son is not getting a broomstick."

"But it only flies a few feet—"

"No."

James was fast, as always, to think up a retort, though it did not work quite as well as he had hoped. Running rather low on time, he merely said, "I think you're just still bitter about him taking after his dashing father more than you—"

"I do wish," Lily laughed, "that he didn't inherit so much from you. Honestly, how hard it'll be for him to find a girlfriend—"

"Please, they'll be chasing after him like mad!"

"That was Sirius, James—though I don't see why they fancied him so much. The only reason you were ever even asked to Hogsmeade was because Sirius wouldn't go anywhere without you!"

"As if! They just didn't want to hurt his feelings!"

"Must've been acting when the one with you always seemed slightly upset."

"Well, obviously! They were so taken with me of course they'd do that for me!"

"Well, I suppose we'll never find out if Harry's got the same luck, as if he gets that broomstick, he won't last five seconds!"

"Oh, please! He'd last five hours no problem. Five days if we fed him."

"No broomstick."

"Not even a chance?"

"Not even a chance."

"Come on, Lily!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Fine," he finally said, running his fingers through his dark hair, as though it could possibly become even messier than it already was. "What's for dinner?" he asked at last, as though perhaps the meal may contain a hidden broomstick in the way that a cereal box may contain a plastic toy of some sort.

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on! There's no way that's enough for a budding Quidditch player!"

"We'll just have the Christmas cookies, then—"

"Really?" James asked incredulously.

"What?" Lily laughed, her green eyes bright. "Afraid it'll ruin your figure? We'll just have the ones Bathilda sent us—"

"But those are all dry," he complained. "Can't we at least have some of yours?"

"The ones you ate, you mean?"

"Oh, right, those."

"Honestly," laughed Lily. "I have no clue how you're so thin with all you eat!"

"You sound like my mum," he complained.

"Oh, that's really nice."

"She's an excellent cook. Sirius says so too. Though I suppose that's not saying much; he'll eat just about anything."

Lily did not reply.

"So about those biscuits..." he said instead.

"What about them? In some burst of chivalry, will you suddenly begin to take care of the housework, baking and cleaning and all of that?"

"Well, I guess they aren't going to bake themselves."

He shrugged, and a look of sudden horror flashed across Lily's face. "Oh, God—" she said.

"That's right, Lily Potter, we are making cookies."

"If you—"

"If I what—burn the house down? We're wizards, Lily! And not bad ones, I might add. And I imagine few others would hesitate to back that up. We're not going to cause any tragedies here."

"We aren't. But you might."

"Just get me the flour, I've got biscuits to make."

"Best of luck."

"I'm not the one who needs it."

"Didn't you hear—we're making biscuits."

"I hope that means you and the cat," Lily told him, turning away, "because I'm not helping."

And so that Christmas, the Potter family had Christmas cookies aplenty, James having made them in excess, though all of them were rather saltier than desirable.

The youngest member of the family, however, was too busy enviously watching the model broomstick soaring around the room to care. There was, however, a green-eyed witch who was quite aware, laughing as her husband bit into the salty treat and winced at its bitterness.


AN: Rather terrible, especially considering that I am clearly American and therefore am not familiar with using "biscuit" as cookie and all of that so hopefully that is right. I just switched them around in hopes that one of them would work out in the end. Thank you to harrypotterobsessed33 for the help. This is extremely fluffy, and the following shall be slightly less so. As it's a Christmassy fic, there won't be too much that isn't fluff, aside from one featuring Neville, another featuring Ron, and one with Harry. Other than that, fluff levels shall be disturbing. Hopefully it's not dreadful though. Because fluff isn't always bad. But I am bad at writing it. And I think the lengths will vary greatly as well, some being roughly 1,000 words like this, and others roughly 500 like the next one (featuring Luna). So, I'd very much appreciate feedback on all of this, considering how unfamiliar I am with all of this. By the way, this is sort of in chronological order, but only roughly.