Christmastime, 2015
Ginny had a feeling it wouldn't turn out well before it had even begun. And yet, being the incredibly stubborn woman that she was, she still made the effort.
"Sit down, James," she said, trying to push the hyper eleven year old into a chair. "Lily, stop poking your brother." Lily looked up with wide, innocent eyes.
"But James took my feathers, mummy," Lily complained, pointing at James accusatorily.
"Poke him later then," Ginny amended. Mollified, Lily sat down on the floor by James's feet. Albus entered the room sporting a very sour look, plopping into a chair as far from James as possible before leveling a glare at his cocky elder brother.
"Mum, Al is annoying me," James said matter-of-factly.
"I didn't say anything," snapped Albus.
"You talking just now was annoying, though."
"Give me my feathers, James."
"You're such a prat!"
"You're an annoying baby!"
"Feathers!"
"Stop touching me!"
"You touched me first!"
"Feathers!"
"Did not! That was Lily!"
"I want my feathers!"
"That was so you!"
"Was not!"
"Was too!"
"Shut up!" Ginny yelled, burying her face in her hands. "Merlin, can't you get along for just five minutes?"
"Only if Al's not around," James replied, smirking. Albus opened his mouth to reply, but was quickly cut off by his mother screaming,
"Enough!"
Perhaps it was the deranged look on her face. Or maybe their knowledge that one shouldn't disobey mother when she looked cross. Maybe it was a gene that kicked in when Weasley mothers were angry at their children, or perhaps it was just that the sheer volume of her cry inspired such terror into her children that none of them dared to speak. Whatever it was, Ginny's exasperated cry certainly quieted her argumentative children.
"We're making Christmas cards and you're going to like it," Ginny said, glaring at each child in turn as if daring them to disagree. She dropped a stack of blank parchment onto the table beside the ink and quills she had earlier laid out. Lily immediately snatched a piece and began working, humming merrily as she did so. Albus moodily grabbed a couple supplies, huddling up in his chair to work on his little project. James also grabbed a bottle of ink, turning it over in his hand and watching it rush to the bottom over and over. When he caught his mother's reproachful eye, however, he set it down and began scrawling a Christmas card as well. "Better," she growled.
"Can we have dinner first?" Albus asked.
"After you make cards, you can have dinner," Ginny said shortly.
"It'll be cold," Albus whined.
"Draw fast then," suggested Ginny, looking at his blank paper.
"Cold soup is gross," Albus grumbled, drawing a few squiggly lines on the page.
After keeping an eye on their work for a couple minutes, Ginny rose and made her way to the kitchen, assuming she could get a glass of water and return before they could get into any more mischief. Unfortunately, she had hardly pulled a glass from the cupboard when she heard glass break, a loud thump, a boy's aggravated cry, and then the sound of feet pattering down the hall in her direction. She turned to face Albus, who came running in with his now purple parchment held aloft.
"James dumped the ink on my card," he informed her, offering her the sticky, dripping object.
Ginny put a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. "Throw it away and start over, then," she suggested.
"He'll just do it again!" Albus cried. "He always does stuff like that!"
"Tell him to stop," she said as she filled the cup.
"He won't!"
"He'd better."
"But he won't!"
"James, come here!" Ginny called.
"I'm working right now, mum," said James's voice, floating in from his place in the dining room.
"Now," Ginny commanded. She heard her son sigh dramatically as he stood and entered as well, a folded piece of parchment in his hand.
"It's done anyhow," he said, handing it to her. She took the page, confused as to how finished a card that had nothing drawn on the cover could be. She opened it up, fearing the worst, and found an enormous spotted circle on the inside with the words 'Happy Christmas' written messily in the corner.
"What is this?" she asked.
"A card for Uncle Charlie," he replied smugly. "It's a dragon egg, see?"
"Dragon eggs for Christmas? Really, James, you couldn't put any more effort into this?" Ginny queried exasperatedly.
"Mummy! Mummy, mum, mum, mum, MUM! Look what I made!" shrieked Lily, running into the room. Her parchment was taped to her face and covered in what looked like hundreds of pink and purple feathers. Two holes had been poked in it and through them, Ginny could see Lily's brown eyes peering through, bright and full of pride at her creation. "I made a feathered mask, mummy!"
"I can see that," Ginny said, "but what about a Christmas card?"
"But I wanted to make a mask, not a card," Lily said simply, as though this explanation was clearly good enough for anyone to understand.
"We're making cards! Christmas cards, not dragons, masks, or soggy parchment!" Ginny cried, spilling her water onto Albus's already destroyed page and soaking his shirt sleeves.
"Mum!" he cried, throwing the page in the air. James grabbed it and threw it out the open window with an evil cackle, flashing Albus a devilish look. "Did you just see that? Mum, he threw my paper out!"
"It was already ruined," James said.
"So?!"
"It doesn't matter!"
"I wanted to make a mask!"
"It does too matter! It was mine!"
"Covered in my ink!"
"I love my feathers! I'm a bird now!"
"It was mum's ink, not yours!"
"Or a fairy! I'm a fairy!"
"Practically mine, you know."
"That's not true!"
"Is too!"
"I can be Aunt Luna! Aunt Luna loves feathers, too!"
"You're such a prat!"
"Can't you think of any better word than prat?"
"Yes, but you can't."
"Yes, I can!"
"Liar!"
Ginny collapsed onto the chair behind her while the three Potter children snapped away at each other, soon dissolving into a chaotic fist fight over a stray feather that tickled Albus's nose as Lily danced around. They ran from the room, screaming and throwing punches and yelling childlike obscenities at each other, and Ginny did nothing to stop the bunch, too exhausted to try any longer at such an obviously useless cause.
No one got a Christmas card from the Potters that year.
A/N: Personally, I found this to be amusing and appropriate for a Throwback Thursday moment.
(Christmas Boot Camp: Cards)
(5 Christmas Keys Competition: feathered mask, open window, cold soup, dragon egg, blank parchment)
R&R? :)
-Naomi
