A note on the story: The scenes before the start of Term Three are really more inter-connected one-shots, so I'm turning this into a prequel, hence the renaming of the story. The main story, which will be A Currency of Secrets, will start on the first Monday of Term Three in its own story. I'll post the first chapter of that story in about a week. I'll post the final chapter of this story before then.
Chapter Note: While lighthearted in parts, this chapter also deals with the serious topics of both cancer and moderate anxiety in Lily's parents.
A note on anxiety: I have based the experiences of Mrs Evans on two of my close relatives. Her triggers (perfectionism, confrontation, including loud, overbearing people) and her defences/symptoms (avoiding eye contact or certain topics, honesty replacing tact, and absent-mindedness – both as a purposeful coping strategy, and unintentionally at other times) are reminiscent of some of their experiences and coping strategies. I am in no way suggesting this is demonstrative of all people with anxiety, which varies greatly in its symptoms and severity. While there is some humour in this chapter, I am not suggesting that anxiety itself is humorous.
Christmas Lunch with a Plateful of Potter
Saturday December 25, 1976
- Lily -
"Knight to E4," Mr Evans said, frowning at the chess board from where he was stretched out on the sofa.
"No! Don't you have eyes?" cried the little stone figure. "His queen will decapitate me!"
Mr Evans chuckled at the theatrics before giving in.
"Fine, pawn to E4."
"Oh sure, send the little guy…"
Mr Evans gave a hearty laugh, which turned into hacking cough. Lily jumped up to hand her father his glass of water. Mr Evans took a long drink, but his eyes were still twinkling with amusement.
"Don't you over-exert yourself, Dear," Mrs Evans called from the kitchen.
"Don't worry, Debbie, I'm fine," Mr Evans called back. He handed the glass back to Lily, still smiling.
"This was an excellent idea Lily. Sure beats reading my dozenth book this month." He caught sight of Lily's expression. "Not that books aren't wonderful, too."
"You might like it less when I beat you for, what is it, the third time?" Lily teased.
"Oh, bring it on! It's not like I'm the one who taught you chess and beat your socks off for years."
They turned their attention back to the game, Lily suppressing a grin behind her 'game-face'. Her father was trialling a combination of new medication and 'bed-rest', both of which were doctor prescribed. Having declared the sofa his new 'bed' Mr Evans spent most of his waking hours talking and joking with Lily now that she was home from the holidays. And learning wizard's chess. It was especially helpful that he could direct his chessmen while lying down, or Mrs Evans would never have allowed it.
Lily was delighted by the improvement in her father's condition. Last holidays he'd been weak and sick under the weight of his treatments, with not an ounce of energy left over. There had been none of his usual dad jokes or even spent time with his family. Those had been gloomy days.
The last week had been a ray of golden sunshine after a storm. Mr Evans wanted to know all of the things Lily had learned this year at Hogwarts, as well as firing question after question at her about the magical world. Lily was constantly jogging upstairs to grab one book or another, to show her father an illustration or read him a paragraph.
Petunia's absence, rather than being a dark cloud, was a breath of fresh air. Lily's sister would not have tolerated this talk of the wizarding world for long, let alone days on end. Not to mention that Petunia's sharp tongue easily upset Mrs Evans, who was quick to fluster or become nervous. Mostly it was unintentional, but Petunia seemed to step on her mother's triggers like a person playing hopscotch with landmines.
Instead, Mrs Evans and Lily had spent several glorious afternoons, while her father was napping, selecting a small live Christmas tree, decorating the house, and baking gingerbread. The mornings were filled with the cheesy Christmas carols that drove Petunia mad.
For the first time, Lily appreciated Vernon's existence, if only because he had provided a house for Petunia to move out into.
"Lily dear," her mother called from the kitchen, "can you help me with the chicken?"
"I'll get it," Mr Evans called back, tossing his blanket aside.
"No, Dad," Lily said quickly, jumping up.
"Don't you dare, Steven!" Mrs Evans retorted. "I'll tie you to that sofa if I have to. Save your energy for Christmas lunch!"
Lily passed the dining table, already laden with baked ham, three types of potatoes, and a rainbow array of vegetables.
"Oh good," Mrs Evans said when she saw Lily. "The stuffing's all fallen out of the chicken, and I need to stir the custard…"
Mrs Evans was standing at the stove, wooden spoon dripping a thin custard onto the floor, a slight tremor in her wrist. Lily pretended not to see her mother's nerves, which were beginning to show like threads poking out of an ageing carpet. Mrs Evans was so determined for this Christmas to be perfect. Any disasters, no matter how tiny, would increase her anxiety levels.
"No worries Mum," Lily said lightly, grabbing a spoon. "I'm an expert stuffing re-stuffer."
Ten minutes later (and one rescued custard), Lily and her parents were sitting down to Christmas lunch. No one commented on Petunia's empty chair.
"Goodness Debbie, this looks amazing," Mr Evans said, face still a bit drawn by the trek from living room to dining room.
"Lily spent all morning helping me," Mrs Evans said, patting Lily's hand affectionately. "I wanted everything to be extra special this year." Her smile was a little fragile.
"Oh come off it, Debs, I'm not dying anytime soon," Mr Evans attempted to joke.
"None of that talk today," Lily declared. "Who wants Brussel sprouts?"
"Me," her father announced with almost convincing enthusiasm. Like Lily, Mr Evans hated sprouts. It seemed that in her quest for perfection Mrs Evans had forgotten that Petunia was the only one who liked them.
Soon they were all tucking into their Christmas feast. Though their plates were piled high, they'd barely made a dent in the loaded platters weighing down the middle of the table.
"So which book will you read first?" Lily's father asked her. To her delight, most of Lily's Christmas presents had been books on Charms and magical creatures.
Lily was well into a description of the various horse-like magical creatures which were not, to her father's great interest, mythical, when the doorbell rang.
"Oh, I wonder who that could be," Mrs Evans twittered, hopping up to answer it. Mr Evans and Lily shared a glance and a raised eyebrow. Clearly Mrs Evans had been meddling again.
"Petunia!" came a delighted but not exactly surprised squeal from the front hall. Mr Evans shot his chair back a bit too quickly in his haste to get to his feet. His face paled but he turned an anticipatory smile in the direction of the hallway.
A moment later, Mrs Evans, beaming, was leading Petunia, not beaming, into the dining room.
"Darling," Mr Evans said, smiling warmly at his daughter. "I'm so glad you could make it after all."
Petunia, lips pursed, nevertheless crossed the room to hug her father.
"Vernon made me come," Petunia said flatly as she took her seat opposite Lily.
"Well, that was nice of him," Mrs Evans said, smoothing things over in her usual way – by ignoring any unpleasantness.
"Yes, apparently he got a call from his mother, who got a call from you," Petunia glared at her mother, "who told her that it was such a shame I couldn't come for lunch at least."
Mrs Evans was now rearranging the salt and pepper shakers with unsteady hands, avoiding Petunia's accusing stare.
"If you only came to be horrible," Lily snapped, temper rising, "you can leave again."
"Now girls," Mr Evans said, in his deep soothing voice, though his eyes were firm, "we're all together now. That's what matters. Petunia, try some ham, it's beautiful. Your mother and sister outdid themselves this year."
Petunia's expression soured as it always did when Lily received praise from her parents.
"And look, Tuney, I made you Brussel sprouts." Mrs Evans attempted to pass her the bowl of tiny cabbages.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Mum? It's Petunia, not Tuney. I'm not six anymore. Last time you called me Tuney in front of Vernon I nearly died."
Mrs Evans' lip trembled, as did the bowl she was holding.
"Petunia." Her father's voice was firm. "Take the Brussel sprouts."
Petunia scowled but did as he asked.
"Well, now, isn't this nice?" Mrs Evans said softly, folding her hands in her lap and looking at the feast spread before them.
"Very nice," Petunia ground out.
They ate in tense silence for several minutes.
"So, how's Vernon's work going?" Mr Evans asked Petunia, breaking the quiet. "Busy, I hear."
"That's what Mother says," came the curt reply.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lily frowned at Petunia across the table.
"Didn't you tell them?" Petunia said to her mother, who was now determinedly avoiding her daughter's eye by studying the curtains. "I got a lovely phone call from Mum in November, reminding me about Christmas lunch, but saying that Vernon should in no way feel pressured to come, seeing as he was always so busy."
"That's not exactly, I mean, I'm sure I didn't phrase it like that…" Mrs Evans was now staring at the tablecloth.
"Debbie?" Mr Evans asked, his voice soft but stern.
"Well, he's just so loud dear," Mrs Evans replied, meeting her husband's gaze. As usual Mrs Evans was becoming more honest and less tactful as her anxiety levels rose. "He just… monopolises the conversation. And Christmas is a time for family."
"Did it occur to you that one day Vernon might be family?" Petunia shot back, gripping her knife and fork harder than necessary.
Mrs Evans took a steadying breath, the hitch in it audible.
"I just wanted this year, this year, to be just us. Is that so wrong?"
Everyone, even Petunia, was silent for a moment. The air was heavy with the weight of what she wasn't saying – that this Christmas might be their father's last. This time Mr Evans did not attempt to joke it off.
"We should get out Monopoly again after lunch," Mrs Evans said a bit breathlessly, in an awkward attempt to smooth over the disquiet she'd caused. "It's been ages since we all played."
"I'm only here for lunch," Petunia said flatly.
"Oh." Mrs Evans' face fell. "That's alright dear."
"No it's not!" Lily said, voice rising. "Why can't you spend a few hours with your family at Christmas? Have you even been home since last holidays?"
"Have you?" Petunia shot back.
"I've been at school!"
"Oh your precious school. You've abandoned Mum and Dad just as surely as I have, Lily-witch!"
"Don't call me that!" Lily snapped.
"Why not? It's true isn't it? It's why Mum and Dad like you better, why you're the only one Mum wants to see when she's all worked up-"
"That's because you're the one who works her up!"
"Girls!" Mr Evans' rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it was not to be argued with. Lily and Petunia sat glaring silently at each other. Mr Evans broke into a coughing fit for several long moments, before managing to gulp some water at last.
"Now," he continued, his voice hoarse, "neither your mother nor I have been abandoned. We're doing just fine without either of you coddling us."
"But how's Mum coping with driving you to all of your appointments?" Lily said, turning to her mother.
"I'm getting by, dear."
"But if Petunia just-"
"That's enough. We're not discussing this at Christmas lunch." Her father's tone was final.
Silence descended again. Lily ate four peas and mixed her mashed potato and gravy together. Petunia didn't touch her Brussel sprouts.
A sudden sharp rap at the back door made them all jerk their heads up. Lily, Petunia and Mr Evans glanced at the back door in surprise, while Mrs Evans said,
"Who could that be?" and went to answer the front door instead. Mr Evans glanced at his daughters.
"Don't look at me," said Petunia. "I don't live here."
"Lily, could you…" Mr Evans said, angling his head towards the back door. Lily shot Petunia a glare, which Petunia shot back, and went out into the hall.
Still fuming, Lily pulled open the back door. Then scowled.
"What are you doing here, Potter?"
The part of Lily's brain that hadn't just turned a deeper shade of rage red, noted that James Potter was wearing a smart black muggle suit, well-tailored, with highly polished black shoes. It was the first time Lily had seen him in anything apart from school robes. His hair was still determinedly mussed at the back.
"Merry Christmas, Lily," Potter beamed at her, ignoring her steady glare.
"Don't call me Lily," she said automatically. Her eyes narrowed. "And how did you find out where I lived?"
Potter ignored her question.
"I came to give you your Christmas present."
"I don't want anything of yours, Potter," Lily said coldly, trying to close the door. Potter put his shiny shoe in the way.
"I wanted to give it to you at Hogsmede, and then I tried on that last Tuesday of term…"
Lily clenched her teeth, hoping to prevent her blush. She tried not to remember the evening they'd spent sitting around a Christmas tree in companionable silence, Potter determined to keep her grief at bay.
"And, of course, you couldn't just send it by owl," Lily said sarcastically.
"Well, it's a bit big." Potter tugged on a rope in his hand and a handsome white pony in a deep blue rug ambled amiably into view. Lily stared at it.
"You got me… a horse?"
"Yep, best filly from our yards. Her name's-"
"I don't want your horse, Potter." Lily's voice was firm even as her traitorous heart raced in excitement. She watched the horse – her horse – nibble the begonias.
"You told Greta you wanted a horse," Potter said, his cheeky grin faltering only for a moment.
"So now you're spying on me?"
"Hey, I couldn't help but overhear-"
"Potter, look around," Lily interrupted, crashing them both back to reality. "Where am I going to keep a horse?"
As though for the first time, Potter glanced around the small walled garden of the town house. His smile slipped again, but Potter rallied quickly.
"Well, that's alright. I'll keep her at my place. You can visit over the holidays and I'll teach you to ride." Potter grinned at her as though this were an excellent proposition.
"James Potter," Lily growled, crossing her arms. "I assure you, I will not be visiting your place this holidays or any day in the rest of my life. Now, if you don't mind, my family is having lunch-"
"Who is it, dear?" Mrs Evans appeared at Lily's shoulder. Lily closed her eyes and took a slow breath. Her mother, ever hospitable, was about to be very predictable. And Potter was about to be very pleased.
"Oh, is this a friend of yours?"
"He is not a friend," Lily said, glaring at Potter, daring him to disagree.
"Ohhhh. I see. I didn't realise you were involved with anyone," Mrs Evans said, smiling mischievously at Lily. Potter grinned at Lily behind her mother's back.
"You have a very special daughter," Potter told Mrs Evans earnestly.
"No! Mum, he's-"
"Oh aren't you a darling. Come on in now, out of the cold." Mrs Evans ushered Potter inside. She took his overcoat, hanging it on a lampshade as if that were the most normal thing in the world, and led him towards the dining room.
"Will your horse be warm enough?" Mrs Evans asked, concerned.
"Her rug is magically heated," Potter assured her, as Lily hurried after them down the hall.
"Mum, can I just-"
But Mrs Evans had pulled Potter into the dining room doorway, leaving no space for Lily to squeeze past.
"Oh, hello," came her father's voice, surprised but polite. "And who might you be?"
"He's a wizard," Mrs Evans whispered conspiratorially, retaking her seat.
"Oh, not another one," Petunia muttered.
Lily finally made it into the room. Potter was standing awkwardly near the door.
"Lily?" her father said, eyebrows raised. Lily sighed.
"This is James Potter, from Hogwarts. Potter, my mother, Debbie, my father, Steven, my sister, Petunia."
"James is Lily's friend," Mrs Evans told her husband with an obvious wink. Petunia looked up with slightly more interest, an evil glint in her eye.
"We're not friends," Lily said firmly. "And he's not staying."
"Nonsense," Mrs Evans said airily. "Take a seat, James. We've plenty of food."
Potter smiled smugly at Lily, taking the chair beside hers. Lily stood frozen for a moment. This was unbelievable.
"What happened to 'Christmas is a time for family'?" Petunia asked sharply.
"Well, James was already here, and he seems such a nice young man," Mrs Evans said, buttering bread for James. Her voice had become absent-minded, a sure sign she was flustered. "And really, we could use a change of atmosphere in here. It's not like anyone was enjoying themselves before."
Petunia gaped at their mother. Lily flushed with embarrassment, staring at her plate to avoid Potter's eyes. Mr Evans cleared his throat meaningfully. His wife glanced up at him, caught his eye, and fell silent.
"So, James," Mr Evans said, a bit more loudly than necessary. "You're at school with Lily?"
"Yes, Sir," Potter replied politely, meeting his steady gaze. "I have that great pleasure."
Lily rolled her eyes. Petunia scoffed softly and threw down her napkin.
"Excuse me for a moment." Petunia stood and left the room.
"What's your favourite thing about Hogwarts, dear?" Mrs Evans asked, passing him the gravy.
"Quidditch," Potter answered at once. The whole table stared at him.
"I beg your pardon, dear?"
Potter glanced around at the blank faces. "Er, Lily hasn't explained quidditch to you?"
"Quidditch isn't something that concerns us, Potter," Lily said firmly.
"Lily!" Mrs Evans was shocked. "Is that how we raised you to speak to people? We address people by their given names."
"No, Mum, at Hogwarts-"
"In this house," Mrs Evans interrupted, her gaze sharp, "we address people by heir given names. Apologise."
Lily sighed. In this mood, there was no point arguing with her mother. "Yes Mum. Sorry, James," she ground out.
Potter smiled broadly back. "No problems, Lily." She could hear the suppressed amusement in his voice. Potter had been trying to get Lily to call him James for years.
There was another awkward silence. Lily prayed neither of her parents would ask about quidditch. Potter would bore them all silly for hours.
"Why is there a horse in the back yard?" Petunia demanded from the hall, on her way back from the bathroom.
"It's Lily's," Potter said at once.
"It's Potter's," Lily shot back. Her mother cleared her throat pointedly. Lily sighed. "James'."
"I gave her to Lily for Christmas," Potter declared. "She said she wanted a horse."
"I hope you haven't been asking favours, Lily," her father said sternly. On the other side of the table, Petunia reluctantly retook her seat, looking at Potter with obvious dislike.
"No Mr Evans," Potter answered seriously, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "Lily never asks me for anything at all."
"Except some peace," Lily muttered.
"I don't care whose horse it is," Petunia said sharply. "The neighbours will see!"
"It's a horse, not a dragon," Mr Evans said mildly.
"But they'll wonder how it got there!"
"Nah, muggles don't look with their eyes," Potter assured her, spouting an old wizarding platitude. The table went very still. Potter, realising his mistake, said hurriedly, "I mean, people who don't know better. Not you guys. People who-"
"Potter," Lily said darkly. "Shut up."
Petunia was glaring daggers at Potter.
"Besides," Mrs Evans said, recovering and keen to move the conversation along, "the horse isn't staying here, of course?"
"No," Lily said firmly. "Potter- James, is taking it with him."
"And Lily is coming to visit."
"No. I'm not."
Lily glared at Potter, who grinned back.
"Do you two, er, see a lot of each other at Hogwarts?" Mr Evans asked awkwardly, glancing between them.
"Not as much as I'd like," Potter said promptly, at the same time Lily growled,
"More than I'd like."
Neither reply was clear, so Mrs Evans did what she usually did, and ignored the unpleasantness.
"That's nice, dears."
Mr Evans cleared his throat.
"A horse if a very generous gift, James. One might say, too generous."
"Not really, Mr Evans. My family breeds horses."
"Horses are still expensive to raise, aren't they?" Mr Evans pressed.
"Not to worry, Mr Evans, my family can afford it."
Mr Evans blinked. Lily rolled her eyes. Petunia scowled.
Mr Evans cleared his throat again, trying a different tack.
"So, James, isn't your family missing you for their own Christmas celebration?" His voice was light but Lily hoped Potter would take the hint. Potter, however, was far too self-assured for that.
"No, Sir, my family celebrates on Christmas Eve. For us Christmas day is more about relaxing, breaking in our presents, that sort of thing."
"Well, we're happy to have you, dear," Mrs Evans assured him with a warm smile, failing to see Mr Evans' look. For Petunia, this was the limit.
"Oh are we?" she growled at her mother. "We can't have Vernon over, because he'll monopolise the conversation, but we're just stoked to hear all about horses and bloody Hogwarts from James flacking Potter!"
"Tuney!" Mrs Evans was shocked, Mr Evans furious. Lily however, ducked her head to hide her smile. How many times had she called him 'James flacking Potter'?
Lily realised Potter was trying to catch her eye, grinning at the shared joke. This sobered Lily immediately and she shot him a glare. Lily didn't want to share anything with James flacking Potter.
"Petunia Evans," Mr Evans growled. "Apologise to our guest."
"He's not our guest," Petunia retorted, rising from the table, "he's Lily's."
And Petunia stormed out of the room. A quiet descended in her wake. Mr Evans sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Are you alright dear?" Mrs Evans asked, concern clear in her voice. "Mr Evans is suffering from lung cancer," she confided to Potter, "so we try to make sure he doesn't over-exert-"
"I'm sorry about my eldest daughter," Mr Evans broke in, glancing meaningfully at his wife, but speaking to Potter. "She has a bit of a temper and things haven't been easy for her of late. Not that that is any excuse for her behaviour."
Potter struggled rather obviously for something to say. He was rescued by Mrs Evans, queen of the awkward segue.
"So, do you and Lily have the same classes?" she asked Potter as though merely continuing their conversation.
"Mostly," Potter answered, recovering quickly, "except for Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"Dark Arts?" said Mr Evans. "Is that something we need to be concerned about?"
Potter glanced at Lily in surprise, and she gave him the tiniest shake of her head. Keeping her parents from unnecessary worry was one of Lily's goals in life. Neither of them coped well with stress at the moment.
"Er, not for most people," Potter said uneasily. Then, in true Potter style, stretched the truth to breaking point by covering it with a smaller truth. "Last year we studied dangerous magical creatures."
"Oh, like the werewolf?" Mr Evans said, merely curious now. Potter frowned.
"More like vampires and banshees."
"Banshees? Are they dangerous?"
And so the rest of the meal was taken up with Potter instructing her father in various dark magical creatures. Monopolising the conversation indeed, Lily thought uncharitably. Neither of her parents seemed game to mention Petunia, who still hadn't returned to the table.
"I'll be back in a minute," Lily said, as Potter answered yet another one of her father's endless questions.
No one acknowledged her. Lily pursed her lips and went to find Petunia.
Her sister was sitting at the kitchen table, poking at a piece of apple pie she'd cut for herself.
Lily had intended to start with something placating, but seeing Petunia eating their family Christmas pie without bothering to rejoin the family, stoked her temper.
"Getting started on dessert early, I see?" Lily said, taking a seat opposite her.
"Well I sure as hell wasn't going back in there." Petunia pointed to the dining room with her spoon.
They sat in tense silence for a minute. Both sisters stared determinedly away from each other, chewing their bottom lip in an attempt to keep their temper. Petunia sighed and pushed her pie around her bowl.
"You know what the worst part is?" Petunia said, lifting fiery eyes to Lily's.
"I only came here because I have news. But no one wants to hear a thing about me. Its all about Lily and her new wizard friend."
"He's not my friend," Lily snapped. "You know what Mum's like. He turned up unannounced and she just-"
Lily paused, frowning. "The only reason you came? Not to see your family for Christmas?"
Petunia sighed impatiently. "Don't be so dramatic. Do you even care what my news is?"
Lily crossed her arms and waited.
"I'm engaged," Petunia all but spat. Lily blinked in shock.
"To Vernon?"
"Of course to Vernon!"
Lily hesitated, not sure what to say. Was it too late to talk Petunia out of this?
"Your congratulations are overwhelming," Petunia said icily.
Lily took a deep breath and tried to put her anger aside. This was an important moment in how they would go forward as sisters.
"I'm sorry, you just took me by surprise. Congratulations. If you need help with anything-"
"I don't. I know how busy you are. We'll manage on our own, like usual."
Petunia stood up abruptly and stalked from the room.
"I'm leaving now," Lily heard her announce to the lunch table. Lily hurried back into the dining room.
"But we haven't even had dessert!" Mrs Evans protested, tears in her eyes.
"I have," Petunia said, "and you've got Lily and James Potter to share it with, anyway."
"Petunia," Mr Evans said firmly. Petunia paused. "Merry Christmas, darling."
Petunia's expression fell, softening for a moment. Ignoring all of them, Petunia crossed the room and hugged her father tightly.
"I'll come visit you Dad," she promised quietly.
"I look forward to it," he said, smiling at her.
Petunia turned, glared at the rest of them, and strode down the hall. They heard the front door slam shut behind her.
"I just don't know what that was all about!" Mrs Evans said, flustered.
"Petunia and Vernon are engaged," Lily told her parents wearily.
"Oh," said her mother.
"I see," said her father.
There was an awkward silence as her parent exchanged meaningful glances. There was no joy on their faces. Suddenly Lily was glad Petunia's news had been put off. She doubted very much that Petunia would have been pleased by her parents' reception.
"Well, I'll just clear away then, shall I?" Mrs Evans went to tip the peas in with the potatoes, but wasn't watching and missed. They rolled across the table and into Potter's lap.
"Oh, James! I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Mrs Evans," he said at once. "A few peas never hurt anyone." He got out of his chair to chase down a few that had rolled under the table.
"Mum, why don't you let me do that," Lily said quickly, as she went to put the carrots in the same dish as the cranberry sauce. Potter had re-emerged and Lily waited for him to smirk in amusement. She was sure there was some comment about carrots and jelly that she didn't want to hear. But Potter's face was sympathetic.
"Alright, I'll just clear the plates then." Mrs Evans grabbed her plate and Potter's, tipping the cutlery to the table by accident, gasping in shock, and promptly dropping his plate to the floor where it broke in two.
"Oh, I'm such a clutz!" Her voice trembled.
"Mrs Evans," Potter said, his voice kind, "why don't you let Lily and I clean up? You did such an excellent job with lunch."
"That's a good idea," Mr Evans said firmly. "Debbie, perhaps you could help me upstairs for a nap?"
Mrs Evans gave one final glance at the broken plate, then went to help her husband. Potter followed Lily into the kitchen with the stack of dinner plates.
Lily grabbed some plastic containers and began filling them with the leftovers. Potter continued to bring in dishes form the dining table, until the kitchen table was sagging beneath with them.
"Can I help?" Potter said, looking at the pile of dirty dishes.
"You could wash up," Lily said sarcastically as she searched for a container big enough to hold the half a chicken left over.
"Sure. I'll wash up."
Lily glanced over. Potter had yet to approach the sink. She sighed impatiently.
"Don't tell me you don't know how to wash up, Potter."
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged a little. It was the first time Lily had seen Potter looking helpless.
Lily crossed to the sink, dumped some detergent in, and ran the hot water. Potter joined her at the sink, watching the bubbles form with interest.
"This," she said patronisingly, "is a sponge. This is a dirty dish. They go in the water together and-"
Potter was leaning over to watch her scrub the plate, much closer than necessary. Lily narrowed her eyes.
"You get the idea." She stepped away. "Clean dishes go in the draining rack."
Lily turned back to the pile of leftovers on the table.
"It was nice meeting your family," Potter said over the chink of crockery.
Lily snorted. "What, no witty comments about how dysfunctional we all are?"
Potter turned to her, obviously shocked. "No. Of course not. I'm not a monster, Lily."
"Evans," she snapped back, at the end of her tether after today. Potter tutted irritatingly.
"Now Lily, your mother said not to use surnames in her house. And I wouldn't want to disrespect your mother. She might seem really nice on the outside, but she looks like she would be a tiger when riled."
"She is," Lily said, looking down at the left over Brussel sprouts. "Really nice, I mean. Today… wasn't a good day for her. For anyone, I guess."
"Yes, I gathered." Potter's face was once again kind. Lily glanced away sharply.
"You being here didn't exactly help matters, Potter. I don't know what makes you think you can just barge into my life-"
"Lily."
She paused.
"I didn't mean to be invited in, honest."
"Then why did you wear that ridiculous suit?"
"You think its ridiculous?" Potter looked at his collar uncertainly. Lily didn't reply. His suit looked fine, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
"I only wore it to impress you," he said. Lily still didn't look at him. He sighed. "Lily, I'm sorry if I made things worse by being here. I didn't realise what I was walking into, or I would have declined."
Lily scoffed, not sure if that made it better or worse.
"But to be frank, it looks to me like it was going downhill before I got here."
"Oh does it?" Lily looked up to glare at him. Potter was still facing the sink, scrubbing a large platter.
"But for my part," he continued, "I'm glad I came."
"Why, because you got to torment me outside of school?" Lily snapped, clipping a container closed with more force than necessary.
"No, because I got to understand you better."
"What, now you see why I'm dysfunctional?" she rounded on him.
"No." He turned to look right into her eyes. Lily looked away. "I can see where you get your determination from, your courage. And your kindness."
Lily still didn't meet his eyes, but she said, with the slightest of smiles,
"Well I obviously don't get that from Petunia."
Potter chuckled, trying to catch her eye.
"No, but your fiery temper clearly runs in the family. And apparently your style of insults is genetic."
"Don't think you know me, Potter," Lily said softly, looking down at the table. "This glimpse into my life that you think you've had, I didn't give you permission to look."
Potter stared at her as though he was going to say more, but Lily cut in first.
"And I don't want to hear that you've been discussing my private life with anyone else. Clear?"
"Of course, Lily, I would never-"
"Right. Well, if you've finished the dishes," Lily said briskly, "I think it's time you left."
Lily slapped a plastic container into his hand.
"What's this?"
"Pie," she said shortly.
"Awww, Lily, I didn't know you cared."
"I don't. My mother would be very upset if we didn't send you home with dessert."
"Right. Well I wouldn't want to offend your mother." Potter glanced up the hallway. "Should I say goodbye?"
"They're both upstairs. I think its best if you just leave."
"Right."
Lily walked Potter to the back door. He turned to her.
"Merry Christmas, Lily Evans."
"Bye Potter."
With a final smile, Potter slipped out of the door and Lily locked it behind him. Through the window in the door she saw him say something. There was a crack like a whip and a house elf in a royal blue pillow case appeared. A moment later, with another crack, Potter, the pony, and the elf disappeared.
Lily sighed deeply and turned back to face her silent house. And so ended another Evans family Christmas.
- Sirius -
Sirius Black was stretched out on the leather sofa in the Potters' den, his feet facing the fireplace, one hand behind his head, reading a muggle motorcycle magazine. He looked up as James appeared in the room.
"Finally." Sirius tossed the magazine aside. "You've been gone so long I thought she'd done away with you. That, or done something else with you." Sirius wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Neither," James said heavily, plopping down heavily. "I got invited for lunch."
"Lily Evans invited you for Christmas lunch?" Sirius said in disbelief.
"No, her mother did."
"Lily Evans' mother likes you?" Sirius demanded, sitting further forward on his seat.
"Not exactly. What did she say…?" James paused, trying to remember. 'We could use the change in atmosphere.'"
"What does that mean?"
James opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again. "Not really sure," he said dismissively instead. Sirius could tell this wasn't the whole truth, but before he could push, James said,
"Do you want some pie?" and Sirius' attention was diverted.
"So…" Sirius said around a large mouthful. The boys were digging it out with their fingers. "Tell me everything. What's Evans' family like?"
James hesitated. Then he shrugged.
"Not much to tell. We had ham and chicken and Lily taught me to 'wash up'."
"What's that?"
"Sirius Black, don't you know anything?"
Sirius punched him in the arm.
"It's kind of like washing your hands, but you wash plates and stuff instead."
"So, like vanishing stuff, but more annoying."
"Yeah, for people who can't vanish stuff because they don't have magic," James said sardonically.
"Oh. Sounds boring."
"Nothing's boring around Lily."
"You," said Sirius, digging out more pie, "are so whipped."
James shrugged and stole the container back. "Perhaps, but I'm also the one who's eating the last of the pie."
"Hey give me that!" Sirius leapt on James and they both tumbled to the floor. The pie fell out of its container and splattered onto the rug.
"You are an idiot," Sirius said wistfully, staring at the sad remainders of the pie.
"Yeah, so you and Evans tell me."
"Only because it's the truth, mate."