AN: I don't own these characters. Please review if you read it! Thank you and I hope you like it! Sorry for the delay. : D
4.
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Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin.
The morning after officially becoming James Potter's main holiday squeeze, I was a basket case. I paced my dorm all by myself biting my lip in nervousness trying to find a suitable outfit to wear on our first, official date. Something that was casual and didn't give away our official status. Something that didn't scream, 'WE'RE OFFICIALLY GOING STEADY'. Also, hopefully something that didn't officially tank my reputation.
Groaning in despair I discarded a sweater and tried not to even think the word, official. After forcibly emptying my mind I picked a random top of out my wardrobe and put it on without a second thought. Pushing my hair out of my eyes I admired myself in the mirror.
It was a good, plain, solid black turtleneck. Anxious I said aloud, "There are no hidden cryptic messages in turtlenecks. The only thing a turtleneck says is, 'my neck is cold'." With that in mind I buttoned up my pants with finality, decided on my outfit. The only decorative detail I added to my normal daily getup was a thick silk ribbon I tied into a bow in my hair. I hoped it wasn't too forward. But I really, really hoped it wasn't the official date accessory.
I was so wrapped up in my outfit I hadn't even noticed the snow outside. There was a firm drizzle of rain going that was desperately trying to turn to flakes but couldn't quite make it. The ground was slick with moisture and it glimmered brilliantly. The wind had let up, but for miles the sky was one solid charcoal colored storm cloud. Wary of the weather I wrapped myself securely in a teal scarf I favored outside of my Gryffindor colors. Then I buttoned up my wool jacket and took a moment to appreciate the softness of its fur-trimmed hood.
With a deep breath I went to meet James in the common room. He was standing at the fireplace with an arm leaning against the wall. He wasn't dressed any different from any other day, except for a heavy jacket. I tried to act casual as I approached him. When he turned to see me I was relieved he didn't have a flower to give me. He also didn't comment on how I looked and he didn't kiss my cheek.
All James said was, "Good morning. Hope you're up for an adventure, the snow is a bit deeper than I anticipated." Then he led the way toward the exit without looking me in the eye.
I followed deep in thought. Were we both playing casual? Was it just me who felt awkward? But when I saw James run his hand through his hair and rumple it, I felt reassured. That was his nervous tick. It gave me great satisfaction to know James was anxious.
One of the great things about staying at Hogwarts for holiday was that trips to Hogsmead were not monitored or regulated for seventh years. You could go any time you pleased, well at least as long as it was before curfew. That is why we took the scenic route to the little town instead of any underground passageways.
Our walk was quiet and we kept our hands to ourselves. "You excited for your gifts?" James queried.
"I am. I haven't actually seen my mum in person this year for her to slip up and tell me what I got. I genuinely have no idea what it'll be." I couldn't keep the enthusiasm out of my words, "That really makes it more fun."
James laughed at my keenness, "You live in constant suspense."
"I do! Though, I'm sure once I fondle the things I'll have them figured out. If it's heavy, square, and flexible I'm pretty sure I'll be getting a book. You know that sort of thing."
James smiled and held up his hands in a shrugging gesture, "Ah, actually I don't know. You see gifts around Christmas time at my house are all bewitched. If I even look at them curiously something dreadful will happen. For example- when I was just a kid I went to pick the tape off one of the sides of a present under the tree. I just wanted to sneak a small peek but as soon as I got the tape off it static shocked me! I dropped the thing and it wrapped itself back up. The hairs on my arms stood up straight for the rest of the day."
We both laughed and the steams of our breaths mingled in the cold afternoon air. The beaten path to Hogsmead was now well behind us and we neared upon the bumbling little town. Packed in the streets were witches and wizards who walked with towering stacks of presents in their hands.
Haphazard boxes tilted on carts and magically balanced on the backs of broomsticks. A constant chatter had overtaken the streets as well. Strangers from all over apparated in and out all in search for the obscure candy from Honeydukes, or the unique joke items from Zonkos. Festive flyers were pinned to the windows of each shop, and on nearly every corner in the community there was a choir of elfin children singing syrupy sweet holiday songs.
James and I wound through the throng of holiday shoppers. The streets were slick with ice and I walked slowly with concentration so that I didn't slip and fall. The rain had turned into stout snowflakes that drilled down on us.
"So, tell me more about what a wizard's Christmas is like," I said to James after a bout of long silence.
His face broke into a smile, "It's…magical. Not to be cliché but it is. Every year we have a candy cane garden in the back yard."
Eyes wide I interrupted, "What's that?"
James snuck a look at me, as we began talking our pace slowed. "Well it's exactly as it sounds. A garden of candy canes."
"But candy canes don't grow," I protested.
"Maybe muggle candy canes don't." He told me and I didn't catch a hint of smugness from his words saving me the sting of ignorance I normally felt at learning things of the wizard world. Sometimes it was hard being muggle born, but it never felt that way around James. "Candy canes from a garden are the purest, freshest, mint you'll ever taste. It's like eating minted ice cubes down to the melt in your mouth sensation. They grow best in snow but a lot of people have to use magical snow. If you use magical snow it's not as good."
"Are they sugary?" I asked.
"There is a small amount of sugar in them- yeah. Picking the tallest ones in the garden is a tradition at my house." I smiled at the thought of picking candy canes from the earth on a snowy night. "My mum has spelled stockings too. They start out as festively striped socks that are tacked onto the wall, only big enough for a baby's foot. After every day, one day closer to Christmas, a new stripe appears on them. By the time Christmas arrives the stockings are at least as tall as you. And full of treats."
"Wow," I breathed imagining a sock unfurling into a gnarled stocking draped to the floor.
"Do you have snow globes?" James asked me relishing my attention.
"Yeah sure."
"Well, a wizard's snow globe is more than a ball of glitter and figurines. It comes to life. There are real trees and real snow and real reindeer pulling real sleds in a wizard's snow globe. You don't even have to shake it.
"My dad buys trick mistletoe too. The kind that doesn't stay put in one doorway. It's got a mind of it's own, this mistletoe. You could put it above your front door and two days later it's above your back door."
I laughed, "That's sneaky." James nodded.
"So what about you? What do you love the most about Christmas?" He inquired looking through his hazel eyes at me.
I paused thoughtfully glancing at the landscape around us before replying. "I love the gift exchange." James seemed surprised as I said this. "Not because I'm getting something but because I'm a whiz with gifts." I didn't bother keeping the smugness out of my voice.
"Oh are you?"
"Yes, I am." I couldn't help but wink, "You don't feel truly connected to a person until you see their face as they open the gift you are giving. Seeing all the words they thought no one could hear materialize through one parcel in fancy wrapping. All their private dreams embraced with a simple gesture. I just love it."
"I never thought of it like that," James pondered aloud.
I blushed concerned by my sincerity but it faded before James noticed. Then before I could dwell anymore on it James had hunched over suddenly on the side of the path. "What are y-," I began before he popped up and hit me in the face with a snowball.
Holding his stomach James said, "You should see your face. So priceless!"
Luckily shock didn't render me completely useless because without any hint of hesitation I ducked down and began balling up my own snowball. Still on bent knees I thrust my snowball in James's direction and it just nicked his shoulder. My hands were submerged in effort of another snowball when James hovered above me and lifted me up at my reluctance.
Still clutched in my freezing hands was a half balled snowball. I contemplated where to plunk it on James when his much warmer hand slipped into mine and forced the snow away. Intertwining our fingers James smiled down at me and walked me up an icy path to a small café. I didn't protest, who could when he smiled like that, all dimples and charm? Instead I focused on the way his hand held mine glad that the cold would prevent hand sweat.
The café was one I'd never been to before. It was settled neatly towards the back of Hogsmeade, where I rarely had time to venture. It was cozy and cabin-like with rickety tables and large flicker orb lights on each. Beams of wood vaulted from the ceiling and large lounging couches were positioned around a roaring fireplace with a glass mantle. The place was dim and intimate and I remembered as James led me to a discreet table in the back of the place that we were officially on a date.
I began feeling nervous and tried to look casual as I unwound my scarf and shrugged out of my coat. I sat down with a plop and watched James join me finding a chic ivory knit sweater beneath his bulky jacket.
"Nice sweater," I commented.
"Back attcha," James said and there was a sparkle in his hazel eyes. Praying he was receiving my turtleneck message a waitress arrived at our table and handed us each a menu. "This place has the most amazing hot chocolate," James told me and pointed at a picture of a white mug on the menu.
After a couple moments of deliberation I decided on a cup of hot chocolate and a bowl of soup. Turtle soup to be exact. James copied my request and the waitress left us alone.
"Are there really turtles in the soup?" I asked before silence descended upon us.
James had been fidgeting with a sugar packet. He looked up and smiled. "Hope you're not allergic." I tried not to look scared. I'd never eaten turtle before.
Interrupting the turtle turmoil in my mind, the waitress returned and set down two mugs of hot chocolate with a mountain of whip cream on top. She left before I could ask what was in the soup.
"Alright, moment of truth," James said and slid my cup of cocoa to me. I picked it up feeling the heat on my still cold fingers, pulling my sweater sleeve over my knuckles I wiped the edge of the mug off. Simultaneously James and I took a sip from the mug and a chocolaty sense filled my mouth and forged a hot path down my throat to settle in a radiating puddle in my stomach. I was warmed instantly.
"Mm, you were right. Scrumptious,"I declared licking the whip cream off my lips.
"Glad you like it," James replied then snorted when I took another drink from my mug. "Evans, you are simply stunning with a mustache." Laughing, I wiped the back of my hand across my upper lip. James had motioned for the waitress to return and he said, "Do it again. We'll stun her with our posh 'stache status." Grinning we both dunked our lips into the whip cream and put on somber looks as the waitress stood at the side of our table.
"May we have a can of whip cream please?" James asked airily adopting a sleek accent. The whip cream was firmly in place on his lip as he said so. The waitress restrained her reaction to all but one raised eyebrow. Then she conjured a can of whip cream and set it on the table politely.
Without laughing I said, "Lovely darling," I drew out the word adopting the same accent as James. Then smugly I told the waitress, "This whip cream is almost as good as mine." With a snobbish laugh I explained, "I have my own cow at home. Bessy is quite the miracle cow."
She walked away with an animated nod. As soon as she was gone James and I burst into chortles. "Bessy?" He asked, and his face was questioning.
"Yeah, pet cows are so in." I reached over in my seat and picked up the can. I popped off the cap and sprayed a generous amount into my mug. Before I could set the can down though, James grabbed it from my hand and slid my mug next to his. He sprayed some cream into his own mug until the cream was level with mine.
Quoosh.Quoosh. Index finger poised on the tip of the can he gave a few challenging squirts. Setting down the can he gave me an innocent smile.
Looking coolly from him to the can I felt the childish impulse to add more into my mug. I was just about to shrug it off and resume drinking the hot chocolate when James chuckled. With nostrils flared I picked up the can and made a larger lopsided mountain of whip cream in my mug twice as big as James's. Pursing my lips defiantly I set the can in the middle of the table.
James didn't reach over immediately. Instead he drew a sip from his cup and his mustache returned. Then he picked up the can, gave it a shake, and in sweeping, dramatic, circular motions he covered his entire mug in a heap of whip cream. From the table up the mug was lost in a tower of white, fluffiness.
I laughed victoriously and took a hearty sip from my mug. I got whip cream on my nose as I did so but I wiped it off unconcerned. "Shame about your cup, mate. This hot chocolate is just so good. Mm…"
Realizing his mistake I saw James's face twist thoughtfully. Then he said, "I wish I could get a mustache like yours, Evans. Very impressive." He bent his body down above his mug and began sucking the whip cream off his cup with slurping sounds.
Confused, I reached up and ran a finger across my lip. There was no whip cream, "What? I haven't got any cream on my lip."
Satisfied, James sat back in his seat swallowed and replied, "I know. I meant your real one."
My jaw dropped then I retorted, "Don't worry; your peach fuzz will grow in one day."
"But it'll never be as thick as your beard," James contrived a wistful whine.
My eyes widened and my hand shot up to my chin, which was of course, not hairy in the least. Acting on impulse I stole the can of whip cream away, leaned across the table my hair hanging like an auburn curtain, and drew a crooked triangular beard on James's chin with it.
"We'll pretend," I told him rubbing the whip cream into his skin. He sat there, in shock I suspect, with a huge smirk on his face. The next moment war had broken loose and we both had our hands wrapped around the can, arms at sharp angles, struggling for possession of the can. It was spurting chains of white all over the table and our sweaters but we didn't mind.
I managed to get James in the face twice and at one point I had removed one hand and squinted to see my whip cream covered finger plunge right into James's ear. He howled and laughed and the can dropped with a thud onto the tabletop. But he retaliated rapidly, and splattered a huge glob of cream right on my head. The bow I'd worn took most of the damage though, I discovered upon later inspection.
I had just pinned James against the side of the booth with my knee and was about to squirt some whip cream on his forehead when the waitress cleared her throat. I jerked off my date and sank into my seat. Cringing with embarrassment and amusement I had to stifle a snort as James asked with utter dignity, sitting up to his ears, literally, in whip cream of the waitress, "Soup's up then?"
Her hands were full of a tray and two bowls of sickly green looking liquid. In a horrified voice she told us, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
We exchanged a look then stood up without protest. James paused before stepping past the waitress and wiped at invisible dirt on his shoulder, which was miraculously not smeared with white.
I reached over and told him seriously, "You missed it, dear." Then I swiped at an invisible speck on his other, clean, shoulder. He thanked me most convincingly as the waitress looked on in complete mortification. This was my breaking point and I laughed a large, unladylike, snort.
Sensing the jig was up; James placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me, shaking in hilarity, to the door after collecting our coats. Someone from behind the counter shouted at us to, "Have a nice day!"
Unable to resist, James cupped his hand around his whip cream filled ear and hollered back, "What?!"
I stumbled out the door holding my sides. My feet sank into soft snow that had piled up in the short time we had been occupied. While James was distracted I balled up some snow in my hand and held it behind my back. Finally, he exited the café and gave me a reproachful look, "Can't go back there."
"I've never been asked to leave a place before," I mused as James handed me my jacket. Discreetly, I slid my hand through the arm without giving my snowball away.
James too slipped on his coat, "I have. But not before the main course. That was new."
"So is this!" I said and dropped the snowball down James's shirt. I knew better than to wait and gauge his reaction, instead I pumped my legs and ran away. But, being the fit Quidditch player he was, James was effortlessly hot on my tail in no time.
I put up a good chase with only half arsed attempts at gathering snowballs that consisted of me bending down at opportune moments to fist some snow. I would toss back my lame snowballs without much aim. Mostly though I was breathless and giggling. We were near the Post, my intended safety, passing an open field when James grasped me around the waist and with surprising gentleness set me on the ground.
Giving in, I lay flat on my back heaving breaths in and out. "You've got appalling aim, Evans." James said on his back beside me.
I looked over and my hair was stuck to my cheeks and neck with sweat. James was spotted, no more smudged in white. I couldn't tell the difference between whip cream and snow. "Is that snow?" I asked him pointing with a stiff arm at a glop of white on his jacket sleeve.
James stuck his finger in the glop and then licked it. "No, that's whip cream."
"Peachy," I said still trying to catch my breath.
James's sudden movement distracted me though, beside me I heard the swish of his jacket rubbing on the ground. His arms and legs spread in and out in a movement I recognized.
Smiling I began moving my limbs back and forth making a dent in the snow. "We are angels." I said and twisted my head to look at James. He was smiling too, which made me feel light and floaty inside. His nose was all red from the cold and so were his splotchy cheeks. There was still whip cream in his ear and in his hair was in tangled, plastered, tufts. I could only imagine what I looked like, but for a second I didn't care.
All the rules were out the window, which left us to just be. Sure, we were asked to leave a respectable establishment where they served turtle soup, and sure we'd looked like fools playing with whip cream, and sure I was sweaty and all wet and a total mess, but we amused each other. The truth was, I had fun. I had an unforgettable afternoon spent with James being completely natural and ridiculous and sweaty and immature. And there he was, making snow angels with me in the snow, beaming at me, being messy with me and I wouldn't want it any other way.
"Think you can get up without putting footsteps in your snow angel?" I asked James.
"I think so." Then he rolled flat on his back and sat up fluently in his bulky jacket. On his strong legs he lifted himself up and jumped right out of his angel imprint without leaving a blemish.
Still on my back I groaned and like a child I held out both my hands in front of me. James obliged and lifted me up and out of my snow angel flawlessly as well.
Standing, James and I admired our handy work. Our snow angels were awkward; there was a big divot in the middle where I'd landed when James had tackled me. There were creases in the snow where our coats didn't quite shift with our arms. The angels were incomplete too; where our arms had met on the ground there was just a big heap of undefined snow. Because of James's jacket his snow angel was at least twice his size.
"My angel is fat," James commented.
I tossed my head back and laughed loudly. Picking clumps of snow off my jacket James and I hiked our way to the Post. There were four parcels waiting for me in the monstrous building with hundreds of birds. They were small and wrapped in red and green wrapping paper and the sight of them made me giddy. Christmas wasn't until a few days but I already had the urge to tear them open.
I signed my curly signature on the release form for the gifts and accepted them happily despite the clerk's wary look. My hands groped the gifts curiously as I tried to recognize their shapes. None of them seemed familiar though.
"Have a try?" I asked James extending a gift.
He shrugged and began patting the object. After a minute he said, "No idea. The suspense continues."
"Ah, dreadful isn't it?" I said biting my lip and giving a final frisk.
"Christmas is right around the corner. I can only imagine you open one on Christmas Eve being so impatient and all."
I ignored the crack, "Sure do. It's tradition. Do you?"
"No. I've mastered my impatience." James smirked.
"Unfortunately not your arrogance," I bit back and smacked him in the arm.
"If I weren't such a gentleman I'd hit you back."
"Gentleman? Who are you trying to fool?" I taunted and stuck my tongue out. Very mature.
"No thank you, I use toilet paper," He said mildly in reply to my tongue. Immediately I stuck it back in my mouth and scowled.
"I doubt that," I murmured dryly but James was distracted. He had levitated my gifts in the air and was successfully juggling them with his wand. "I bet you can't do that the whole walk back." I dared the boy.
"Can too," He insisted. The wind had picked up and it was bitingly cold. It had been steadily snowing all day long and it was really starting to stack up on the ground. It made my steps heavier. Cold, wet, moisture seeped into my shoes chilling my toes.
Seeing James's determined concentration on keeping my gifts tame and afloat in the gusts of wind I felt bad. "Okay, you were right, you can stop now."
"We aren't all the way back," James told me.
"Yes but you've demonstrated quite enough skill. So, you can stop now. It's really windy we can just carry them."
"Evans, you dared me. The show must go on."
"Yes well, I undare you." I gave him a charming smile but he didn't budge and my gifts still tumbled through the air. "I'll let you stick your hands in my pockets." I offered casually. I knew this would make him concede, the buggered show off.
With both eyebrows raised James levitated my gifts safely into his hands and held them under his arm. With a rather smug smile he closed the distance between our walking bodies. Inviting, I held out my hand and he took it. Then stepping close to him our hands found their way into my pocket.
We walked in comfortable silence. Snow welted my face and with every passing minute it seemed to come down harder. Eventually the only part of Hogwarts visible to us was the hulking peaks of the castle that cut through the blinding sheets of snow like knives. "I just got a snowflake down my shirt," James murmured into my ear and I laughed at his expense. We paused on the snowy path to Hogwarts and I let go of his hand and then unwrapped my scarf from around my neck and twirled it around James. "But you'll get cold," He griped stopping my hand mid-wrap. Then he diplomatically wound the scarf around both our necks. I couldn't help but give a cheesy smile. Since we were essentially bound at the neck, our faces were inches apart and if I tilted my head slightly to the right his face blocked out everything in my line of vision.
Spell me sideways,I cursed silently after I caught myself gazing at James for the fifth time. Could I be any moonier? James had behaved himself beautifully today but it didn't mean I had to completely abandon my previous opinion of him. Which wasn't so kind. Yet…I felt so content hanging out with him.
When we finally got safely inside Hogwarts we stamped our feet of snow and shook off our jackets. There was no talk of going up for a shower, which under normal circumstance I would suggest. But this day was nowhere near normal. I didn't want to be away from James for any reason, hygienic or not. Instead I wanted to curl up and get warm beside him, I didn't want to be out of his presence. It was strange how glad I was when he took my hand again and we stomped our way up the stairs. I'd kissed boys before, I'd had boyfriends before, and I'd even held hands before. But there had never been any touch more delicate, or comforting than when James and I had our hands palm to palm.
The common room had a delicious fire going when we arrived. No one objected when we hogged the fire, which I was thankful for. We peeled our jackets off with broad smiles and surveyed the damage. Our sweaters were soiled, our hair was matted, I was damp and a bit sticky and James was rumpled and in a state. But all we could do was laugh, much to the dismay of the other students around us.
"We look like… I don't even know what would constitute this kind of mess," James told me as he kicked off his shoes.
"Café catastrophe," I suggested untying my laces to pop off my own shoes.
"Dessert devastation," James put in as he stripped his sopping socks off his feet and laid them by the fire.
"Turtle termination," I sighed thinking about the soup. I kicked off my shoes finally and crawled over to James who was rolling up the bottoms of his trousers. I was about to say something when James snapped his head up and interrupted me with a look. A look so intense, so meaningful, so smoldering, all I could do was look back. His mouth curled to a slanted smile and I noticed his delicately chapped lips. All normal thoughts fled my mind and I could only was marvel at James and his face and the way the firelight made his hazel eyes glow.
A moment later his eyes flicked down. I followed his gaze and saw a dainty striped sock on my own foot and I fought to keep a blush down. Self-consciously, I took the sock off and laid it down in front of the fire. My other sock was plain and white and it looked almost comical next to it's mate.
I stretched my toes out and wiped moisture from my forehead with my scarf. "Can I borrow that?" James asked pointing at my scarf. I handed it to him. He used it to clean out his ear and I made a grossed out face. "There you are love, a bit of revenge for that wet willy."
"Which you wholly deserved, Potter." I rolled my eyes and set my scarf down off to the side of me so as not to touch it.
James grinned at me but I was occupied removing my soiled bow from my hair. Once I was settled with my pant legs and sweater sleeves rolled up and my hair forced back in an untidy ponytail James scooted to sit closer to me. He pushed his arm through the crook of mine and we sat quietly.
Keeping my eyes trained on the fire I told James, "I like my socks." It seemed like a simple sentence expressing my feelings about my undergarments. But James and I both knew it was more than that. It was an official declaration that I liked James.
"Hey, this isn't a laundry mat folks!" A student interrupted with a purposeful glare in the direction of our dirty socks. Preventing James from doing something brash I stood up and grasped up my socks.
"You're right- we're done here," I told the uptight third year who had an impeccably neat wardrobe on.
James stood up, hulking, beside me. "We are?"
"Yes, I think it's time for a shower." I gave a sniff and grimaced. "We are a little ripe."
"A little?!" The third year exclaimed indignantly. I ignored this and gathered up my discarded clothing.
Turning to James, "Meet you back here in an hour. I know bathing is a new concept to you but do your best to come back smelling good."
"Hey, you don't smell so nice yourself."
"Exactly. Showers are definitely in order."
"Fine. An hour."
James and I parted ways. I felt a little down walking up the staircase alone. To keep the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach away I reminded myself I'd see him again in an hour. It just didn't seem soon enough. Who would have thought that I'd be counting the minutes until I saw James Potter again?
