For my Jily Secret Santa nimbustwothousandandtwo on tumblr :)
I hope you enjoy it!
It was that particular christmas that you just gave up.
As you were sitting in the common room you watched everyone else go to bed, you saw friends hug each other and giggle before running up the stairs to their dorms high on something that you did not seem to have. You felt a yearning to be home, with your parents and to breathe in the familiar smell of the kitchen on Christmas day and to feel your legs curled up under brand new sheets.
But you knew staying at school over the holidays was really your only option this year.
It was suddenly silent, a rarity for the Gryffindor common room, You turned your attention to the fireplace in front of you and watched the fire dwindle until all the flames had melted away and a hollow cold seemed to fill you from the tips of your toes to the top of your blood red hair that draped over your shoulder like a curtain.
You decide you wanted a refund because growing up has not at all been what you signed up for.
Your sister hates you, your so called "best friend" gave you up for his other little evil clones that he called mates and even
your parents smile grimly each time you mention school, because even they know that your world is getting darker and darker each day and that there are monsters out to get people like you. You are one of those games at the fairground; you have a bright red and blue target painted on your stomach and a luminescent arrow pointing right between your eyes.
Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if your friends had been here, but every single one of them had gone home.
You were alone, on Christmas, and you were cold.
You wake up to the sound of a bang and realise that you had fallen asleep in your position in front of the dead fire and jesus what time is it?
"Evans 'at you?"
You hear slurred words and in the dim moonlight trailing in from the window you can just about make out the figure of James Potter standing next to the entrance and you can see even in this darkness, his hair sticking up from all angles on top of his tall silhouette.
"Potter? What are you doing?" You ask, but you already knew the answer, you could smell the whiskey off of him even from where you are sitting and you realise as it tickles the inside of your nose that it is strangely intoxicating.
He stumbles over to the sofa and sits down in a not so elegant, sort of falling way.
He doesn't answer your question.
"Some Christmas this is, eh?" he says.
You wrap your arms around yourself and look at the floor.
"Yeah. Some Christmas."
You're alright with James Potter now, you think to yourself, you're not quite sure if you trust him fully yet, but you know that you and him are fighting for the same side.
"Where are your friends?" You find yourself asking him, because he looks strange sitting there by himself with his glasses sitting lopsided on his face.
"Remus and Peter have gone home and Sirius is…uh, well I think he is still roaming about Hogsmeade to be honest..."
"At this time of night?" You ask because you can't suppress your goody-two-shoes persona even if you really wanted to.
He gives you a coy smile, more like a smirk really… then he simply nods.
James Potter is like an enigma. You wonder if you will ever figure him out.
After a pause filled with comfortable silence he looks at you, right at you.
"Why aren't you home?" You have never heard this tone in his voice before, he was suddenly quieter and it was as if he was pleading to someone, not to you, but to something bigger. Maybe he was pleading for himself.
"I just…can't this year, y'know? It would be too difficult to go home and pretend that everything is fine and plaster a smile on to my face, I'd ruin everybody's Christmas." You see him lean back in the sofa and he nods again. "Why aren't you and Sirius home?"
"Mum and Dad are never out of the ministry and…" He trails off, but you get the idea and don't press the subject.
This is the most miserable Christmas you have ever had, you think to yourself. Sitting in complete darkness next to a drunken James Potter at Merlin knows what time of night.
"Did you go to the feast at least?" He asks you.
"I went for a little while and got talking to some of the fourth years, but I wasn't really that hungry, so I spent most of the day in my dorm listening to records."
Marlene had left you her portable record player and some of your favourite records; you couldn't express your gratitude to her so you just squeezed her tight before you watched her go.
"Ah… " James says as he reaches into his pocket and produces his wand.
He aims it at the fire and within seconds a warm glow had returned within you and you watch the reflection of the flames dance in his amber eyes.
"What were you listening to?" He says. "Please don't be generic and say The Beatles."
"What's wrong with The Beatles?!" You say defensively.
"Nothing, they are a brilliant band, Iconic even."
You look at him confused and wonder how even in such a drunken state, James Potter is witty and can use words such as "iconic." The last (and only) time you had ever been drunk, you walked into a table and fell to the ground, you woke up with a massive bump on your head to prove it.
"Well, for your information, I was not listening to The Beatles; I was listening to Pink Floyd, for hours actually, It makes me calm."
His grin stretches from one ear to the other.
"Great choice."
"I thought so."
He suddenly starts laughing, like really laughing.
"What?" You ask starting to laugh with him, his laugh was infectious.
"I can just imagine you sitting all alone in your room with a tiny record player."
You both laugh until your stomach hurts.
You feel happy, and as light as air.
"Did you spend Christmas any better than me?" You ask, with both eyebrows raised.
"Sadly not, I don't know if you have noticed but I am just a little bit drunk, Sirius made me go with him to the Three Broomsticks for most of the day" He shrugs.
How do these boys get in and out of the castle so easily?
"Yes Potter, I did in fact notice that you were a little bit drunk."
He smiles at you sheepishly.
You remember all of the times you stole glances at him in your classes.
"We could have a do-over Christmas." He says.
You hate to admit it, but the "we" in that sentence sends your insides fizzing.
"You can't just do-over Christmas."
"Yes you can."
"How?"
"Simple, I know where the house elves keep all the food."
You look at the window outside and see that the sky seems to be getting lighter and lighter.
"You know what Potter, yes, lets re-do Christmas in the morning, but we better get some sleep first, its getting light."
You stand up and hold out your hand to help him up. You try not to think about how your hands seem to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.
He sways a little but manages to stands up and walk in a sort of straight line to the bottom of the stairs.
"Merry do-over Christmas Lily." He says and he presses his lips lightly on the top of your head. "It'll be brilliant, you'll see."
And then you watch him go up the stairs, he nearly trips a few times and you put a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from giggling, but he makes it to his door and soon he disappears from sight.
You forget about all the darkness, you forget about it all.
You feel as lit up as a Christmas tree.
As your head hits your pillow you do a sort of excited dance under the covers and as you drift off to sleep you hear one word repeated in your head.
"Lily. Lily. Lily. Lily"
In James Potter's voice.
And you think about how tomorrow will be the best Christmas ever.