Samhain, 1981 : Part I
a lily/james lasting moment
Samhain: an old Celtic word meaning "summer's end"
Lily Evans-Potter ran her hand through her greasy red hair and sighed deeply. She took a step back, pursed her ruby lips in concentration, and cursed softly, hoping not to wake little Harry before his big night. The venison was roasting in the oven; she needed yet to prepare the cheese ball and pumpkin muffins before their guests arrived. The decorations were vibrant from each room, crossed brooms stood at the four corners and black candles were placed on the windowsills to ward off negativity and mischievous spirits on this night.
Baby Harry was sleeping soundly in his crib, his first Halloween costume hand-sewn by his mother. She had decided to start early, in the beginning of September, and make her darling an extravagant costume of a phoenix. He'd look lovely, she'd make sure of that.
"James!" Lily shrieked, hastily fixing the silver fake cobwebs hanging from all the floor lamps and radiators. "James! They're going to be here soon. Harry needs to be dressed into his costume and the treats needs to be set out, lest they be tricking tonight."
James rolled his dark blue eyes as he came bouncing down the rickety staircase that groaned like ghosts with each step he took. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if Lily had bewitched them.
"Sirius, Remus, and Peter won't be here for another hour, Lily," James said as he checked the antique grandfather clock in the corner. Lily had yet to decorate it with straw, cobwebs, candles, and emblems of witches, ghosts, or scarecrows. James breathed a sigh of relief at this--he reckoned that his father would be frustrated with this sacrilege to his legacy.
"An hour!" screeched Lily. "That's less time than I thought!"
James watched, utterly dumbfounded, as his wife hustled around their house--cooking, decorating, and cleaning. Cornucopias adorned the black-dressed table and the mantle above the fireplace; skeletons rocked back and forth on their porch, spiders for their eyes and worms for their teeth; bales of hay were stacked in the northern corner of the small, quaint little home in Godric's Hollow, and upon this alter were candles and images of deceased loved ones--Lily's parents, James's parents, Remus's cousin and mother, and Sirius's owl.
James shook his black fringe away from his tired eyes, and left the extravagantly decorated living quarters in Lily's hyperactive care.
Forty-five minutes passed and Lily emerged from the main floor with her hair in shambles and her cheeks flushed. "6:45," she mumbled, staring at the water clock. "Oh, they'll be here soon! James, dress Harry in his costume! Why haven't you done that yet?" Her voice rose an octave, causing Harry to gurgle and then start bawling.
"Oh no, not know," pleaded James as he picked up his only son, rocking him back and forth in his tight embrace. "Lily, you shouldn't raise your voice around Harry. You know he's colicky."
Lily frowned as she threw her light brown robes over the king-sized bed. "I'm sorry, darling. It's just . . . everything has to be perfect tonight." She dressed in a white, satin gown that rested just above her ankles, which were adorned with golden, snake-like jewellery. The gown was strapless and accented her chest, snake earrings dangled from her ears, and atop her head she wore a golden crown.
"Is her majesty ready?" mocked James, who had been dressed in his costume--brown robes, a green cloak, and black ankle boots.
Lily ran her fingers through her red hair, which turned black seconds later. "Yes. Yes, I am. And, who are you supposed to be?" She flashed her husband a seductive smile.
James sat the silent Harry on the bed and began dressing him in orange and red metallic robes with feathers on the tail. "Who else? Robin Hood," he replied, grinning that trademark, immature grin of his.
Lily chuckled and shook her head. "Of course. And who were you last year, and the year before that, and the year before that? Is Peter Friar Tuck this year too?"
"Of course. Peter is usually the fat friar. He is the only one who can fit into the costume."
Lily cracked a smirk but upon feeling bad for having Peter as the brunt of a joke, let her amusement fade. "At least he won't be dressing up as a rubber duck this year. That wasn't quite what I meant when I told him to go as something scary."
James snorted, took his wife in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers.
