Lily awoke the next morning, gauging her surroundings with uncertainty before she even opened her eyes. She wasn't in her bed, she realized; the pillow under her head was much too soft and deep to be her own. She slid a hand outwards along the sheets on which she slept. They weren't worn in and familiar like the purple and cream bedding she'd had for years at home and her hand continued a little further before finding the edge of the bed, further than it would have had to in her own bed at home.

She should have panicked then, and maybe she did just a little, but she didn't feel particularly endangered in any way and she was awfully comfortable and warm where she was. She ordered herself to open her eyes and with what seemed like a large amount of effort for such a small task, she did. The second her vision adjusted to the light, she remembered everything.

It was Christmas.

Each memory of the night before seemed like so long ago. All the flying, the crying, the talking, the dancing, the laughing. The snogging. Oh sweet Merlin, the snogging.

She licked her lips as she recalled her very last activities of the night.

It all felt like a faraway dream, even though her current whereabouts easily disproved that feeling. For that she was glad.

Lily blinked a few times before choosing to leave the cozy confines of the bedding. Her feet touched the floor softly, a chill running through her body at the cooler air that hit her. She looked down at what she was wearing and smiled with a whispered laugh. The navy blue robe James had lent her was sitting at the end of the bed, looking rather inviting.

She slipped her arms into the wide sleeves and sighed contentedly. It smelled of him. Clean like soap with cinnamon and something else undefinable.

Padding out into the corridor, she looked around. It didn't sound as though anyone was awake yet. But then again, the Potter's home was very large, there was a good chance that if everyone was already downstairs she just couldn't hear them from where she was.

She peeked down the hallway and saw that no other doors had opened yet before heading into the bathroom. She, like any other girl, took a moment to examine her reflection.

Her eyes were puffy from crying and her skin seemed to have even less colour to it than normally, if that was even possible. Her hair wasn't terrible, but it waved to one side as it had been pinned the night before and she wasn't exactly partial to the look.

She couldn't believe James had kissed her while she looked as she did. She couldn't believe that she'd let him. She almost wished she hadn't, that it could have waited until she was a little more presentable. Almost.

She splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth, plaiting her hair to its now favoured side as well. Wetting a corner of a washcloth, she pressed the cold towel against her eyes for a minute or two, hoping to reduce the swelling. If it worked, she couldn't really tell. She figured it could have been worse.

Quietly, she made her way back into the bedroom to neaten up. She made the bed and double checked that everything was just as it had been when she first entered the room. As she went towards the desk to see to the fact that she'd put the quill and inkwell back where she'd found them, she froze.

"Oh my word," she nearly squealed. She pressed her lips together to stop the sound from escaping and promptly clapped a hand over the grin that spread on her face.

Before she could fully comprehend what she was doing she was halfway down the corridor and around the corner towards James' room. She had already knocked twice on his door when her mind caught up with her and she slowed down. She knocked softly once again and then nervously turned the knob and stepped inside.

She approached his bed tentatively and gently pushed his shoulder. James slept soundly.

She wondered if he was a morning person. Would he be upset to be woken up?

He looked peaceful, his features relaxed, lips just slightly parted and hair going out in every possible direction around him.

She'd always acknowledged that the boy was good-looking. She wasn't blind and she couldn't disagree with everything all the other girls at school said about him. He was, by purely superficial terms, attractive and she'd been aware of this since she was eleven years old. It was personality that had been lacking, even as he filled out in fourth and fifth year.

Now however, he was both nicely toned and built and had the appealing personality to match.

He was incredibly cute.

"James?" she whispered, brushing back the hair on his forehead. He stirred, but only barely.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then to his cheek, and then to the corner of his mouth.

"James?" she tried again.

So he was a deep sleeper.

She swiped her tongue over her lips and smirked. Brushing her lips against his, she attempted to coax a response from him. "James," she sang. Her lips touched his once again, pressing just a little bit more.

His eyes opened then and he blinked at her. "'Morning," he murmured.

"Morning," she returned.

James sat up a bit, a grin lifting the right side of his mouth. "A bloke could get used to waking up like that," he told her, his voice a tad rough from sleep.

She smiled. His eyes seemed even wider and brighter without his glasses, which sat on the bedside table next to him.

Remembering what her motive for being there was, she grabbed his hand and tugged him to stand up. "Come on," she said.

"What is it?" he asked, allowing her to get him out of bed as he put on his glasses, unable to see clearly without them. "Where are we going?"

"It snowed," she said excitedly. "James, look!" She pulled him along behind her and drew back the curtains to the balcony doors.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the large glass doors. "Wow."

It appeared it had snowed overnight, covering the ground in about ten inches of snow and it was still snowing then in white crystals that floated and drifted their way to the ground. As they landed they coated everything in their paths in a fluffy white blanket, making the landscape utterly picturesque.

"A white Christmas," Lily said, "just what I asked for."

James chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin atop her head. "Really?"

"I like winter," Lily told him, "but it's been so dull and…grey, you know?"

He hummed affirmation.

"I…I love Christmas," Lily said.

James turned as he yawned widely. "Me, too," he agreed. He yawned a second time. "Lily, what time is it?"

"Oh." She paused. "I don't know. Sorry. You're not a morning person?" She figured she might as well get an answer to her earlier musings.

James blinked slowly. "More so than Sirius," he said, "apparently less so than you."

"Oh, I'm not really," she laughed, "just for Christmas." She looked around for a clock. "What time is it?"

James craned his neck to see the clock atop the mantle. He squinted. "Eight o'clock," he pronounced. "Lily, it's early."

"It's eight o'clock!" she exclaimed quietly.

"Liar," he accused, "you are a morning person."

"It's Christmas," she reminded.

"Yes," he concurred. "Go back to sleep."

"James, it's Christmas!" Lily cried. He really didn't seem to understand.

"You've said that," James noted. "Sirius and Remus won't be awake for another hour or two at least and my parents aren't getting up until everybody else is moving about. Go back to sleep, you can't function on only six hours."

"It's Christmas," she whispered, "I can do anything. Besides, I couldn't go back to sleep now even if I wanted to."

He sighed. "Even if it was with me?" he asked hopefully.

"Tempting, if a little sleazy," she said, he held his hands up in innocent defence, "but, no." Lily stood on her toes and kissed him lightly before taking his hand and walking him back to his bed.

She pushed him towards it. "You go back to sleep," she told him. "If I find my way to the kitchens, is it alright to make myself a cup of tea?"

"I can't go back to sleep," he said with a half-hearted glare, "not without you."

"Yes you can," Lily contradicted. "I can help myself to tea?"

James rubbed his hands over his face and let out breath. "Make two," he told her. "I'll be down in a minute."

She grinned at him.

True to his word, he met her in the kitchens momentarily, still in his rumpled, light blue pyjamas but teeth brushed and hair somewhat flatter.

In the amount of time it took him to get himself into the aforementioned state, Lily had navigated her way around the kitchens and summoned what she needed to fix two cups of tea. All she found to hold the tea were very nice teacups but James arrived in time to assure her that they were quite alright to use so they stayed in companionable silence while the tea steeped before being poured. James set both cups on a tray along with the teapot and then they were on their way.

They settled in the living room; Lily sitting on the couch with James' head in her lap, his eyes closed as he lay down and his tea charmed perpetually hot. Lily was sipping from her own teacup, her hands wrapped around the porcelain and absorbing it's radiating warmth. It wasn't long before she had finished her drink and was debating about whether or not to fill her cup once again.

Choosing not to, she reached to place her teacup back on the tray, carefully so as not to move James and gently so as not to harm the cup. She absentmindedly began running a hand through his hair, effectively undoing his efforts to tame it.

She was humming, the tune continuously changing, as she watched his chest rise and fall with his even breaths.

"I'm not actually sleeping." Lily nearly jumped out of her skin as he spoke. He chuckled at her movement. "You can talk to me," he told her. "I'd like it if you did."

"Oh?" she asked. "And what would you like me to talk about?"

"Anything."

"You don't mean that."

"Okay." She could tell he was thinking as he paused. "Tell me about your favourite relative."

Lily smiled. "Do they have to be living?"

"No."

"My grandmother, then," Lily replied. "She passed away when I was six but I don't have single memory with her that is anything less than happy."

"Go on."

Lily's hand ran through his hair once more before sliding down to his chest, tracing thoughtless patterns on the hard expanse. "She had hair just like mine," Lily told him, "that was what I loved most about her. Whenever I saw her she'd style my hair for me, something different every time unless I asked otherwise. I loved going to her house. The entire place smelled like lavender. And biscuits."

"Mm." James hummed. Lily interpreted the sound to be conversational, James just willed her to continue the soft and mindless shapes and swirls she drew on his chest.

"I get the feeling I'm just going to talk you to sleep," she commented.

"Maybe," James conceded. "But it'd be a nice way to drift off, and your own fault for waking me up."

She couldn't refute that. "Right."

"Why don't you just tell me about yourself then?" James suggested. "Any fact that comes to mind."

"No," she said. "I'm really not that interesting."

"I beg to differ. Now tell me something I don't already know about you."

Lily thought for a while. There wasn't much interesting to say. "I think I would have been left-handed," she said finally, "if my teachers hadn't forced me to use my right hand in school."

He chuckled. "Your wand arm is your right."

"I'm aware. I do play badminton and most other sports with my left though."

He sighed, Lily feeling the movement beneath her fingertips. She touched the warm skin exposed above the neckline of his shirt and traced his collarbone thoughtfully. He almost wanted to tell her to stop. With his eyes closed even the faintest trailing of her fingers against his skin was doing crazy things to him. Self-indulgently, he kept both his eyes and mouth shut and let her continue.

"My favourite colour is purple," Lily said.

"I knew that," he mumbled.

She paused with thought, what all did he know about her? "I like eating ice cream and chips," she told him.

"Doesn't everyone?" James asked.

"Ah," Lily began, "I should rephrase that. I like eating ice cream with chips."

"In the ice cream?" James questioned. Lily couldn't help but laugh at the face he pulled, his eyes still closed.

"Hm, alongside. I dip them sometimes." She grinned. "It's delicious."

"Strange," he commented. "Suppose I know what we'll be trying next Hogsmeade trip."

Lily laughed quietly. "Fantastic."

James was silent. He yawned. "Keep talking," he ordered with a smile.

She reached for more tea, her hands leaving him. His eyes opened and his neck twisted to look at her. He frowned. "Keep…keep doing that, too," he said.

"What?"

James smirked and Lily struggled to recall what her previous actions were. She knew she'd been doing something. She looked at her hands and then at shifted lapel of his pyjama shirt. She blushed as she poured her tea and held the cup in one hand, the other gently coming to rest feather light on his sternum.

His eyelashes came to rest on his cheeks once again.

Taking a sip of her tea, she grinned mischievously, drawing figure eights across his abdomen. She could feel the muscles hardened beneath his skin, through his shirt. She never realized how much she could appreciate quidditch and the strenuous training it required.

James chuckled. "No, you don't."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't like quidditch."

She presumed she'd spoken aloud then. Maybe she was a little overtired. Perhaps she couldn't function entirely on only six hours of sleep.

"I like quidditch," she told him.

"You don't come to the games," he pointed out.

"I don't," she agreed. "But that doesn't mean I'm not a fan of the sport."

"Oh?"

"I just wasn't a fan of you."

"Oh."

"Or Pettigrew's commentary," she added.

James laughed as he thought of Peter. "Wormtail's quite clever when he wants to be," he said.

Lily thought back to the quidditch matches she had attended. The first gem she could recollect was back from fourth year.

James was making a right arse of himself, she had thought. And Peter Pettigrew was not helping as he did the game's commentary.

"And Shaw dodges around Williams and goes straight to the goals. The Ravenclaw chaser is almost there…he aims…he—oh! And James-uh, Potter steals the quaffle!

"Judd blocks a bludger for our Gryffindor chaser and Potter flies towards the Ravenclaw keeper, Neilson." Lily had been watching the match with interest, barely paying attention to Peter's play-by-play.

"Whoa!" Peter had exclaimed. "If you blinked you missed it! Potter scored once again, a clean shot Neilson never saw coming! This puts Gryffindor in a huge lead!"

James had turned to the cheering crowds with a grin. He waved, and then, looking straight at her, smirked and sent a wink her way.

It may have been the most boyishly obnoxious display she'd ever witnessed.

"And Potter dedicates that goal to one Miss Lily Evans!" Pettigrew announced. The number of eyes that turned to her was unbearable. She glared at him.

"A chaser of the quaffle on the pitch," Peter continued, despite the chastising he was receiving from Professor McGonagall, "and a chaser of her heart just about everywhere else."

She couldn't count how many people had repeated the line to her throughout the rest of the match. On the way into the castle. In the common room during the party that ensued after Gryffindor's win. The rest of the week. All of the teasing she'd endured from that one game alone. She could have wrung Peter's neck for that. And when he turned purple and blue she would have let him catch his breath, because it wasn't really his fault. Then she would have moved on to James.

She had refused to go to another match for the rest of the year. It was a shame really, she quite enjoyed the game. Something about seeing the players fly, regardless of the score and who was winning or losing, was enchanting. Magic at its finest almost, the way they defied gravity with such ease, looking so carefree and reckless. Lily could hardly mount a broom in first year, the thought of her feet leaving the ground being a little too overwhelming, but there they were, twenty feet in the air and intentionally plunging to the ground, pulling up within an inch or two of their life. Literally.

At any rate, she'd taken up residence in the library during every match after that. Until the next year, anyway. Alice had dragged her out to every Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin quidditch match that took place, insisting that she was being a good best friend by keeping Lily from the books and bringing her out to meet real people. Lily had an inkling that Alice just wanted company. Especially since she'd become very prone to letting Lily's hiding go without notice once she began dating Frank. Lily hardly minded.

Now, the general unspoken rule between the girls had become that if Lily stood in the spectator stands with everyone else during the match then she had no obligation to be in the common room for the party afterwards. The determination of which was the lesser evil depended on many things. Some days it was James' behaviour over the prior week. Some days it was how much she actually wanted to watch the sport. Other days it was how much partying she predicted that she could endure afterwards. And, to be honest, some days she just went to see what would happen if she did. She was above wishing the team would lose for her own sake. But only barely. Besides, it would be a lot of wasted energy, she'd admit, the Gryffindor quidditch team was the best of the four Hogwarts houses. She would not, however, admit that a lot of that had to do with the skill of a certain messy-haired fourth year chaser.

Lily hit James' shoulder with a scowl. "I don't like you."

"You don't?"

She sighed. "No. No, I do."

"Good."

"Mhm."

"I like you, too, you know."

"Really? I couldn't quite tell."

James laughed as she took a satisfied sip of her tea. "Keep talking."

She did. Her lips pursed as she thought but the moment she had something to say she found herself on a bit of a roll.

Her mind jumped from one tidbit to another, developing into stories and more facts and more tidbits. She felt as though she were having a conversation with herself, reminiscing about everything. In the first little while, James would hum along with her stories, encouraging her to continue, nodding every once in a while and chiming in with a murmured who, what, where, when, why or how to let her know he was listening. Eventually he fell completely silent though, and Lily was able to surmise that he had fallen asleep.

She leaned back and closed her eyes as well. She didn't plan to sleep, not feeling the need to, but instead took the time to herself. She may have drifted in and out of sleep, she wasn't really sure.

When James woke up he was feeling both incredibly well rested and just the slightest bit regretful for falling asleep on Lily during what was almost a proper conversation. He blinked up at her and saw that her eyes had fluttered shut. He didn't feel so bad anymore.

"Lily?" he asked.

Her eyes opened as she smiled. "Hello."

"You were tired."

"I wasn't even sleeping." James opened his mouth to retort but Lily cut in. "So, I was wondering if I could make breakfast."

"Breakfast?" James asked. "Cheffe will fix something."

"I figured," Lily said, "but I was wondering if I could take over for the morning. Make waffles maybe?"

"You don't have to do that," he told her, sitting up and turning to face her.

"I'd like to though, if it's alright," she said.

James nodded. "Fine, but when my mother bites my head off for letting you cook-"

Lily held up her hands. "I will take full blame."

Upon entering the kitchens, they were met by Cheffe, who was busily bustling about the room. He stopped when he saw them. "Master James," he said, "Cheffe was not expecting Master to be awake so early. Has Master been waiting? Can Cheffe get anything?" the elf worried, brushing down his white toga and looking up at them with wide, round eyes.

"No need, Cheffe," James said. "This is Lily," he gestured at her and she nodded at the elf with a smile.

Cheffe bowed. "Cheffe, Miss," he introduced. "Most pleased to meet you."

"You as well," Lily returned. "You keep a very tidy kitchen."

The elf beamed proudly at that.

"Lily," James continued, "will be making breakfast today."

The elf's smile fell promptly. "Did Cheffe do something wrong?"

"No," Lily assured instantly. "Not at all. I just thought I'd make breakfast this morning to-to thank the Potters for having me as a guest."

Cheffe looked insulted and let down. "Was dinner not satisfying yesterday?" he asked James.

"It was exceptional," Lily said.

Cheffe waited for his master's verdict. "Dinner was some of your best work," James replied. "Delicious."

"But Master does not want Cheffe making breakfast."

James gave Lily a mildly exasperated look. "See what trouble you've caused?" he whispered.

Lily smiled at the elf. "I was hoping to make waffles," she said. "Perhaps I could have your help?"

"Miss wants Cheffe's help?"

"Of course."

The elf grinned. "What can Cheffe do?"

James was just short of disbelief. Lily could make nice with anyone, couldn't she?

Past finding out that the Potters did not have a waffle iron, making waffles was not too difficult.

Their ending product was something that looked like a half breed between a waffle and pancake, crispy yet still relatively flat. Thanks to Cheffe's suggestion of using a griddle to cook the waffles on and many trial and error attempts, along with a handful of taste tests, Lily and Cheffe managed to work out an excellent combination of ingredients and technique to making the batter turn golden.

They were quite proud of themselves.

On their way to the dining room, each of them carrying a plate of waffles and Cheffe levitating bowls of fruit and canisters of syrup and powdered sugar behind them, they ran into a slightly groggy Remus.

His lips lifted into what resembled a smile as he saw them and caught a whiff of the breakfast that they toted.

"Morning Moony," James greeted.

"Hi, Remus."

"Morning," Remus replied, rubbing at his eyes. "Need any help?"

"Nope," Lily chirped. "We're perfectly alright." They continued down the corridor together.

"Sirius up?" James asked.

"What do you think?"

Apparently that was answer enough as they stepped into the dining room and set the dishes down on the long wooden table, James replying, "I'll go wake him then."

"Yeah," Remus agreed, still seeming a little out of it, "and happy Christmas, mate."

"Happy Christmas," James said back, disappearing to go upstairs.

"You too, Lily," Remus added.

Lily smiled. "Happy Christmas Remus."

The young man nodded in acknowledgement and then approached the table, turning one of the plates around in a circle to inspect its contents. "Yes," he said, "now what exactly are these?"

Lily looked optimistic. "Waffles."

Remus raised an eyebrow and stared at the plate a moment. It was the same expression Lily imagined one might have while viewing abstract art, a little confused, a little dubious, but trying to keep an open mind. He slowly seemed to accept her description of the dish. "Alright then," he agreed.

Cheffe showed Remus and Lily where the table settings were and they helped the elf dress the table for breakfast, the placemats in festive holiday colours and silverware sparkling. They filled the goblets with pumpkin juice and set napkins on the plates. Lily showed Remus how to make a flower of the napkins. He simply folded them in neat triangles on the plates.

A moment after they'd finished Mr. and Mrs. Potter came downstairs and entered the dining room with expressions of surprise. James and Sirius were right behind them.

"Morning all," Tobias greeted.

"Well, this is a nice surprise," Mrs. Potter commented. "Lily, you didn't have to do this." She shot her son a look over her shoulder and James quickly slipped past his mum and raised his eyebrows in Lily's direction.

"I wanted to," Lily insisted. "It was selfish really, I always have waffles on Christmas morning." She eyed the flat yet ridged cakes on the table. So it was different, but not by much.

"This is lovely," Mrs. Potter said, taking her seat. sat as well.

"Breakfast!" Sirius exclaimed, jumping into his chair with some grace. "This is...well, what is this?" he asked, his hand sweeping in front of the plates.

Lily and James shared an amused smile while Mr. and Mrs. Potter were quiet. Remus raised his hand. "Apparently they are waffles," he informed.

"Looks good," Mr. Potter appraised.

"Thank you." Lily smiled. "Cheffe helped. A lot. And James...supervised."

The table laughed.

"Now," Lily said, "they taste better than they look. I promise."

"It's true," James supported, taking one off of the plates, dusting it with icing sugar and dousing it in syrup. Everyone else followed suit.

There was a collective hum.

"Wow, Evans," Sirius said, the sugar puffing out in a cloud as he spoke around a mouthful, "you should come here more often."

Lily grinned. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind Black. Thanks."

"Thank you," Sirius told her.

They were down to three waffles and a sixth of the pitcher of pumpkin juice when Remus and Sirius looked at Lily with a strangely. She raised an eyebrow at them and wiped her mouth self-consciously. Sirius nodded at Remus and Lily returned to her meal warily.

Sirius nudged James. James didn't didn't seem to notice. Shooting his brother an annoyed look, Sirius jabbed his elbow into James' side.

"Ow!" James said angrily. "What?"

Sirius smirked. "Oh, nothing mate." He didn't even flinch when James' elbowed him back in response. "We were just wondering," he continued, "why is Evans wearing your dressing robe?"

James looked at Lily, the sleeves of his robe slid back above her elbows to stay out of the syrup and sugar in her plate. She was laughing as she talked to Remus and his mum, her hair falling in a wave over her forehead. She felt his gaze on her and turned to him with a small smile.

He grinned.

"Well?" Sirius prodded.

She'd kill him if he told anyone at that table what she was wearing under it. "Shut it."

A/N: Did this chapter take too long? I don't know.

The story isn't over yet but it is most certainly getting there. I'm thinking there's one more chapter to go so if you have anything you'd like to see then you ought to tell me very soon.

I'm going back to reply to reviews in a moment or two. I loved reading them, they were smile-bringers.

Thanks for reading!

Anyways,

Scarlett