AN: Sorry about the wait! R&R
8.
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Idle time is the enemy when it comes to holiday
Idle time is my enemy when it comes to holiday. At first everything is dandy, I can sleep in and enjoy the absence of responsibility. Then slowly boredom sets in, I find myself yearning to have something to do, well, something besides homework. I have all the free time in the world and suddenly I can't help but wonder what I should do with it. This inevitable boredom is intensified when staying at Hogwarts especially when the outside world is a tundra braved only by…you know, the brave.
Usually during this reprieve from school I paint on excessive layers of nail polish, I will sleep until the dark circles under my eyes almost completely disappear, and I accomplish miscellaneous tasks like color-coding the canned goods in the pantry. Once two holidays ago, I cut every strand of hair on my head individually and I still had half the day to waste. Boredom with James was a whole different brand of inane though.
Christmas day went by with little consequence. I missed Headmaster Dumbledore's holiday speech when I slept right through breakfast. James gave me a brief summary with a surprisingly accurate rasp in his voice. Besides the decorations and abundance of illegal play things I turned a blind eye to, the day was the same as the ones preceding it.
Unlike Christmas day at home, there were no dinner preparations, no relatives to talk about their boils, no children to baby sit, no gingerbread houses to guard. After a bit of ice skating James and I returned to the castle with seared lungs and chapped cheeks. The air was cold outside; so cold that I could feel my chest constrict against the chill I inhaled. Ice skating, though I loved it, wasn't worth the discomfort. So, confined to the school all day James and I lingered in the Common Room.
He sat above me on the sofa looking droll. It had been my idea to honor our families by putting on any gifts that were wearable. I had decked myself out in my new maroon sweater, a plain black skirt, Petunia's gifted black sheer stockings along with ruby earrings, and the charm bracelet I had received. I thought I looked quite nice.
James had his magic tie fashioned like a bow tie, his belt buckle was equipped over a pair of pajama bottoms he had received early, Quidditch goggles sat around his neck, and in the pocket of his untucked button up shirt was the caricatured head of some player with the same pill-like candies inside.
James had some sour candies with him and we were taking turns placing them on our tongues and trying not to make faces. I pinched my eyes shut as my face twisted in a disgusted way from the candy in my mouth before saying to the chuckling James, "Your turn. You think three is too much?"
"Let's find out." He shook out three treats from the box into the palm of his hand. "Tell me about Christmas with your family." Then he popped his hand to his mouth and set his jaw his eyes already filling with water. His nose twitched and his eyes widened in what seemed to be alarm.
I gave a short laugh, these candies were not only disgusting in flavor, but they were so sour I wasn't sure I'd have working taste buds at the end of the day. My record was one candy and James was going for three. I decided talking might be a good distraction for him.
"Well, I always help prepare the turkey with my mom. She's scared of touching the jiblets. Sometimes Tuney and I chase her around with a pot full of jiblets and that night at the dinner table she always says how nice it is to have two loving, doting, understanding daughters." James laughed in an awkward way around the candies. "My dad usually carves the turkey but other than that single chore he stays gathered around the radio listening to the latest game. Our relatives arrive at 1:15 on the dot every year. On the average year there's about twenty in all squished into my house and we are a loud bunch. Sometimes I can be carrying on three different conversations at once. When it snows I don't put a foot outside before dinner unless it's absolutely necessary. My younger cousins are usually stocked full with snowballs to throw and I have to warn them that I'll take away their newly acquired stockings if they don't knock it off but I never do. After a huge dinner my dad makes a huge show of unbuttoning on of the buttons on his waistband and then the family, all twenty something of us, take a walk around the neighborhood to look at all the Christmas lights. It's a really nice time."
"Sounds like it," said James smacking his lips and sticking his tongue out like a cow chewing its cud. "I can't feel my tongue."
I laughed, "Me neither."
We sat quietly for a couple of minutes and I was feeling slightly self-conscious after sharing about my family. I thought the cursed awkward silence would go on forever until James said, "I'm a tad homesick." His demeanor softened incredibly after this little confession and not even his silly attire could quite mask the glumness.
I got up from off the floor to sit beside him on the sofa before the fire. I put my head in his lap, safely on his thigh, and walked my fingers on his knees to hide my fear he would push me away. Occupied by the movement of my fingers my breath came slower, but my heart still raced. I hoped James didn't mind me using him as a pillow. But after a few stiff moments he put his hand on my shoulder and let the other stroke my hair.
Softly I asked, "What do you miss most?"
"My grandpops." I settled my hands beneath my head as if I really were going to sleep. "He used to occupy me for hours on end at the dining room table telling me stories from his day."
I looked up at James and he gave me a small smile. "What kind of stories?"
"Oh, stories about everything. The first time he every laid eyes on my Nana. Sometimes he'd tell me about growing up on a farm. I really liked the ones about his time at school. He was a student at Drumstrag. He was The Drumstrag Prankster. Going beyond the dipping a girl's hair in ink mediocrity. Was a true master of his craft. Sometimes sitting there across the table from him I'd want to take notes. Other times I'd even bring him plans I'd been contemplating. Grandpops always had just the right perspective."
I had to smile at this. No wonder James took such pride in his mischief. "I'd like to meet your Grandpops."
His hand on my hair stopped its gentle petting. "He would have liked you, Lily. But he died in June."
"Oh James, I'm so sorry." I sat up to look him in the face as I said this so he knew it wasn't a polite or generic reply.
He gave a shrug. "He was an old man after all." James tried to placate his sadness with a show of indifference. He didn't have to pretend with me but I understood.
"He seems like you." I laid down again and put my head back where it was. James didn't resume his stroking right away so I grabbed his hand and placed it back on my shoulder firmly. Next I took his other hand and completely out of character, as well as completely unembarrassed, kissed it. I put my cheek against it as James began to speak again.
"You know, every time he told me a story, no matter how depreciated his memory had become over the years, he could always recall a first and last name. Every friend was remembered fondly first and last. John Whitmore. Reginald Hersey. Thomas Robert." James paused and his next words echoed deep in my heart. "In a way, you did know him Lily. When it was my turn to tell a tale I followed suit. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew… Lily Evans.
"Your name is one of only a few I will always remember. Just like Grandpops."
A tear I hadn't noticed gathering slid down my cheek and onto James's hand. Slowly I sat up again, James wouldn't look at me and a thrill of need possessed me.
"I still can't feel my tongue all the way but I'm going to kiss you." My knack at talking myself into the ground had gloriously returned.
A smile crept its way onto James's mouth though and before I could say anything else stupid, I leaned in and placed my lips on his. After a few minutes I broke the kiss. My hands were cupping James's face and with my eyes still closed I whispered, "He's proud of you."
James nuzzled his nose against mine, "I know."
I now knew why James hadn't gone home for Christmas. The absence of his grandfather was too much to bear. I knew he feared the empty place at the table and the prank plans gone undiscussed.
"I'm proud of you too." I said bravely opening up my eyes.
James seemed confused and I lost my nerve to explain to just how proud of him I really was. It was the comfort he extended to those around him despite his inner grief, to the fondness he was capable that I never expected. He was a good person and I felt…whole to mean enough to him to remember forever my first and last name.
The Christmas feast lived up to its name. I probably ate one of every kind of holiday cookie well before I had finished my main course. James stuffed himself on pudding and pie moaning dramatically after his third slice.
"I'm so full!" I laughed and poked him in his gut and he swatted, rather half-heartedly, my hand away.
I had a plan in mind for how to spend Christmas night but it required a stop at our candy cane garden. I lugged James by the hand up all those stairs and when we saw a magnificent glint of silver in the window leading to the balcony he perked right up.
After a rather perilous climb onto the balcony, for its floor was slick with ice, I looked up all around me in awe. An abundance of twirling piped canes extended up toward the night sky. Like gnarled tree trunks the candy canes grew, warped and coiled, thickly striped.
The snow had done wonders! In fact there was a canopy of silvery tipped canes hanging down feet above my head. The air smelled sweetly of mint, the snow glittered in frozen clumps against branch-like candy canes. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, bright white in the dark ringed vibrantly with red and green stripes.
"We'll need a small bundle of candy canes," I directed James who had been hopping up and down to reach a dangling spear of mint.
"Okay," he responded distractedly as his hand slipped off the cane.
I walked over to inspect our pots but they had busted at the lips, cracked and shattered. I wondered if any garden had ever been so successful. Hopefully the garden would thrive all through the break until the students came back.
I heard a snap and James shouted, "Duck!" The canopy overhead had fractured and a line of candy canes clattered onto the icy ground inches from where James had taken cover. He began laughing and picking up the fallen bits of candy cane and then proffered a bouquet to me.
I picked out a stick of mint and placed my lips around it. It melted softly against my tongue with a smooth sensation. The mint, subtle and refreshing, chased away the taste of cookies and left a cool flavor in my mouth.
"Mmm," I hummed in approval.
"The best mint you've ever tasted. Am I right?"
"Indeed. It's delicious."
James grinned at me, "So why do we need a bundle?"
I made a loud slurping noise before answering, "You'll see."
We exited our garden merrily with candy canes poking out from the depths of our pockets.
Maybe it was the holiday cheer, maybe it was all those cookies I had for supper, maybe I was delirious with homesickness, but something overcame me that Christmas night; a joy deeply inspired by James Potter. He hadn't given me any sour butterbeers, I hadn't fallen off a broom headfirst, and I hadn't poisoned myself with a potion. I was only under one sort of influence- it was love.
And by Merlin's trousers, it felt good. Or at least for a while.
The journey to Hogsmeade seemed a short one made of breathless Christmas songs and giggles penetrating the darkness. It was arctic outside but the snow had stopped for the time. Every time James made me laugh I could see a stream of hot breath escape from my mouth. Hogwarts was brightly lit behind us casting just a long enough beam of light to reach the end of the path to Hogsmeade. It cast James in a dramatic shadow highlighting his profile when he turned to look at me. I could see our shadows on the white canvas-like ground beneath us. We were hulking black masses of warm jackets and bulky winter accessories. The candy canes jutted out into our shadows and I thought of porcupines.
Hogsmeade was the quietest I'd ever seen it. The lane for shops was all shut up tightly with modest strings of lights for decoration. Past the shopping houses were brightly aglow. Windows showcased gathering families at dinner tables or in front of Christmas trees. The houses were decorated sweetly with vivid colors that reflected in the snow filled yards.
As we walked, James and I, we placed candy canes on the porches of houses that impressed us with their decorations.
"Ooh!" I would exclaim pointing my finger at a house with elaborate lights and ornaments. "Merlin! Look at that!" Then James would accompany me cautiously to the porch of the house and we would leave a candy cane on the welcome mat before running away leaving large unsteady footprints on the pathways.
There was an atmosphere of adventure as we lurked around people's porches to leave them gifts. I felt strangely in tune with the entire world while also being totally estranged to everyone but James.
"I feel like Santa Clause," I said as we walked slowly past one old-fashioned street lamp after another. They were frosty and dim- a quiet romance.
"That mean I can toss you down a chimney?" asked James.
"Holy Hogwarts- you most certainly cannot!" I knew he was kidding but the idea of being cramped up in a chimney scared me wandless. I composed myself a little bit before adding, "I'm…er…claustrophobic."
"Are you really?" James asked with a tone of surprise.
I adjusted my thick knitted hat nervously, "Not too severely. Though sometimes the busy corridors at school make me uneasy. It really only gets bad when it's for long periods of time. I don't think I'm certifiably claustrophobic."
"Y'know there are spells for curing that."
"I know."
"Have you ever tried one?"
"No."
"Why not?"
I adjusted my hat again keeping my eyes trained on the path back to Hogwarts. "You wouldn't understand."
"I might."
I hesitated a great while before I answered, "Well, I just don't want to be magically altered. I guess I just kind of feel that I like how my fears make me human instead of losing into something magical."
"Like learning languages the muggle way," said James but it wasn't a question.
"Something like that."
"I think that's okay," said James quietly after a few moments when I had gladly thought the topic was dropped.
I stopped walking to face him. "You're the only one." The bite in my tone slipped out before I could stop it. "Almost all the other…purebloods see that as a flaw. An imperfection. A waste of magical ability." The tears stinging hot came so fast to my eyes and I could feel a heat rise on my face.
No matter what indifference I demonstrated during school to the jeers and sneers from the Slytherins the truth was it bothered me. Even Grace on occasion found my muggle habits strange. She told me once it was apparent my heritage was muggle because, "Your opinions are very muggle contaminated."
Contaminated. The word had very negative connotations for me. Grace essentially drove home that my heritage was something dirty. Muddy. I was a mudblood.
James just said, "I don't think that. I like you just the way you are."
I couldn't respond. I felt like I didn't need for James to approve of me but it was still nice to hear him say he did. I cleared my throat. "Are we out of candy canes?"
"Sure are."
"Then we've completed our good deeds for the night." I looped my arm through James's and began to lead the way back to Hogwarts.
"Lily Evans, you make me a better man," James joked.
Suddenly I stopped walking and doubled over, "Aaaachoo!"
"Bless you."
"Sorry. I'm allergic to mush."
James barked out a laugh and pointed to himself, "Is that to imply that you think I'm mushy? Me? James Macho-Man Potter?"
I giggled, "Is that your given middle name?"
"As a matter of fact it is."
"Well, it's massively misleading."
And so went on the familiar banter I had recently grown so accustomed to. Eventually my resentment for pureblood superiority melted away with every crunching step I took in the snow.
