It was Christmas, and Lily was feeling put out. This was, of course, putting it mildly.

To clarify; this was the Christmas of 1980, Lily was currently living in her egregiously posh husband's Godric's Hollow cottage, without the ability to get out the house, make any kind of magic, or escape her (really quite lovely) two year old baby and (considerably less lovely) two year old husband.

"But Lily," James said, at his most charmingly persuasive, "It's just a tree. We need a tree. It's Christmas. Christmas needs a tree. We can't have Christmas. Without a tree."

"Yes dear," she said, completely unruffled, "But you see, we're not allowed to do magic. You know we're not about to do magic. You know they've re-instituted the Trace for those accused of treason, which we have been, James, thrice over, James. You know that if you use your magic to make us a tree, James, we're very likely to have a significant number of Death Eaters on our doorstep feeling absolutely tragic about the fact that they have to come and kill a one year old at Christmas. It's very possible that if our dear friend Voldie hasn't got back from Romania, he might well show up himself, and then you know then it'll get really embarrassing James. Also Harry doesn't have a memory. So"

James was less than chastened. "But Lily it's a TREE. A CHRISTMAS TREE I might add, at CHRISTMAS."

Lily very carefully did not grit her teeth. Picking up Harry, who was currently exploring the Lethally Dark Mysteries of His Left Nostril, she wondered for exactly the seventy sixth time whether or not she ought to bother. She decided to take a leap of faith. This, after all, was the season of hope and goodwill. If she could not (Goody Two-Shoes Lily Evans who had been friends with SNAPE) work up a healthy amount of faith and goodwill for her own cherished husband at their first married Christmas together, it was all going to go to hell anyway. So the long and short of it was that she had to leap. As it were. In a faithful fashion. To prove to the universe that it would go on as it was supposed to. The universe depended on her faithful leaping. Verily, she might even pirouette.

"James, you are my husband."

"Yes dear," he says, wilting.

"I have married you and all."

"Yes dear," like a warm lettuce.

"I'm supposed to trust you, that means."

"I think so, yes dear?"

"Which means that when you say you want to do things despite very obvious reasons to the contrary, I expect you have a deep and devious plan as to why you should do said things."

James goes a bit pale.

"If I don't then let you do it I become the Nagging Wife, James, and you become Henpecked."

James is a bit slow.

"So you're to do whatever you want to do James, because you are the Responsible Grown Up Adult Who Thinks Out Consequences to Things And Would Not Want His Family Killed."

James lights up like the Full Moon Eve coincided with Happy Hours at the Hog's Head and dashes out of the room ecstatically.

"It'll be the best tree you've ever imagined, Lils!" she hears him crow, "WE'LL SHOW THOSE DEATH EATERS WHO HAS MORE CHRISTMAS CHEER."

Lily sighs contemplatively and politely tells her brain that sometimes the universe can go shove it.