christmas

"I know what you're all getting me! Look. Hmm. You." Lily starts with Peter, who is on the couch nearest the hearth. He sits straighter at being addressed. "You'll get me food," Lily declares, and Peter's eyes widen at once. He starts to speak, but she holds up a finger. "No, wait—you'll make me food. You'll bake me cupcakes or biscuits or muffins or something."

She doesn't pause to give him time to respond, the look on his face enough confirmation.

"You," continues Lily, moving on to Remus, who is on the floor across from her. "You'll get me something practical. Like... Like a kitchen utensil. Or a textbook. Or a wristwatch."

Remus just stares at her. His expression shouldn't give anything away; it's perfectly passive, as usual, but his silence does that for him. Lily seems satisfied with this, as she turns next to the person beside Remus.

"You, Macdonald, will get me... something that'll surprise me."

Mary's lips quirk up. "So you don't know what I'm getting you."

"I won't be surprised that I will be surprised," says Lily, but that doesn't deter Mary, so she smiles at her and says, "Fine, I have no idea what it is. You're the wild card."

Mary takes a prim sip of her pumpkin spice latte. "Take that, boys."

Lily shoots her with a finger gun. "Black," she continues. The person in question is sprawled on the love seat behind her, perpendicular to the grate, the same one James is on. His legs are on James's lap and his eyes are closed. "Well, I'd actually say you're the best one," announces Lily. Behind her, James raises an eyebrow. She doesn't see it, being on the floor, but she must know that he just made a protest of some kind, because she reaches out a hand to pat his knee. "Sorry, Potter, but Sirius beats all of you in gift-giving. Hands down."

"Keep talking," drawls Sirius, eyes still closed, smirking and crossing his legs at the ankles. James reaches out for the nearest toss pillow and aims for his face, but Sirius catches it without even opening his eyes.

Lily puts her mug of hot chocolate down on the carpeted floor and shifts her position so she could see Sirius. "You get something thoughtful—Now I know you do too," she adds to James, for he's started to make a sound to interrupt again, "But yours is always—besides thoughtful—expensive, and—and grand, and not that I particularly hate that, I do appreciate it very much, but Sirius knows how to do thoughtful with three knuts. Which makes him, generally and objectively speaking, the best at gift-giving."

Everyone but Lily narrows their eyes at Sirius at this (he still won't open his, and that smirk's still on his face), but then Remus nods at length and says, only a little begrudgingly, "Okay, that's true."

"But I already bought the ingredients!" whinges Peter, slouching in his seat again.

"Oh, no, no," Lily hurries to say, "I'm not saying I don't like them. I just know. I love your stuff!"

"Yeah?"

Lily nods in earnest.

"Well, if you say so."

Lily frowns at the rest of them. "You're not going to buy new Christmas presents just to prove me wrong, are you?"

"I know I'm not," says Sirius. "'Cause I'm the best."

"Nor me," says Mary. "I'm second best. Like, really close. In fact, I could be best, it's just conditional at the moment."

Lily grins. "Remus?"

"Nah."

Lily cranes her neck to look up at James. "Potter?"

"Nah," he echoes Remus, in the exact same manner and tone. Remus rolls his eyes.

"James."

James laughs. "Fine, I won't."

And he doesn't.

Not technically.

James tells her that three hours into Christmas Day—I didn't get you a new present! Not technically—when Peter has passed out from inebriation, and Mary, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, and Peter have found someplace else in the Evanses' house to sleep in. When there's only the two of them up in Lily's bedroom, and she reminds him—fondly, proudly, not at all accusatorily—that she was right about him and his grand, expensive presents, he tells her that he promised not to buy her any more presents, and he did deliver on that.

With her bed covered in crumbs and spill-stains and wrappers and bottles and mugs, they both resorted to lying on the floor. Close, but not touching. They've taken all of her pillows and blankets down with them, but James chooses to have one of his arms behind his head. Lily's hands are clasped together on her midriff. In shared blissful calm, they watch her ceiling—which, at the moment, isn't so much a ceiling as a believable replica of a clear, starry sky. The heating charms they've placed in the room has made it a little foggy, although not so much that it ruins the view. The swirling wisps look like clouds, in fact, seeming more alive and distant and mystical than they are, adding to the dreaminess of the whole thing. Outside, snow falls without hurry. Everything is orange and black and white and midnight blue.

"You got me an owl," says Lily, her eyes trained up ahead. "And this. You—you literally got me the sky."

"You like it?"

"I love it," her voice slips into a reverent whisper, "so much." James turns his head to look at her, the floor soft and warm on his cheek, his glasses digging uncomfortably on the side of his face. He ignores this. No—he doesn't notice this. He sees her smile and he ceases to notice much else.

James smiles too, then turns away. He blinks in sync with the brightest star overhead. He does that twice. "My goal was to prove you wrong."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. You said I couldn't do thoughtful with three knuts. This didn't cost a thing, I'll have you know. I remembered I had spare paint back at the family house, and I thought… Well, there's no way I can recreate the Great Hall for you, and I didn't want to set your house on fire with the floating candles trick, but I could give you… something close? 'Course, Remus did most of the painting, but the idea was mine, and I did most of the charms work…"

"It's so beautiful," she says. "I don't think anyone's been this happy to be proven wrong before."

"I thought asking your sister would be a problem, since we have to be here in your house without her—or you—and I don't think she likes me enough to trust me with that. But it didn't even take that much persuasion. That was lucky. We had a speech prepared and everything, but we didn't get to use it."

"You had a speech prepared?" The question comes out half-chuckle.

"To convince her we weren't going to rob you or burn the house, yeah."

She laughs.

"I suppose because she's moving out anyway?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"It doesn't mimic the sky real-time though. Sorry about that. I couldn't invent the right spell in time."

But Lily doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. She just says, still as awestruck as when she first saw it, "The sky, you dork. You literally gave me stars for Christmas."

He smiles, reaches out for her with his free hand to beckon her closer. When his fingers graze her elbow, she rolls to his side, giggling, and James feels so, so much.

"Happy Christmas, Evans," he greets her, once she's close and pressed to his side.

Softly, the words landing hot and honest on his neck, she replies, "James, I think I'm in love with you."

The stars go out of focus as his gaze drops down on nothing, his heart beating very fast. He ducks his head to look at her face. It's hard to tell for sure what her expression precisely is in the lighting, but he's certain her eyes are closed now. She looks like she's sleeping. Like she hasn't just spoken. But she is awake, and she did just say something. She did just say that.

He knows what to answer it with, but the words won't find their way to his tongue.

"Does that scare you?" she asks him before he can speak, still softly, eyes still shut.

"No," he says at once. "No, it doesn't… You?"

Her arm tightens around him. "Very," she admits.

So James—trying to keep his breaths steady and his heart under control—kisses her forehead and keeps his mouth shut.

He'll tell her later that he doesn't think he's in love with her.

He'll tell her later that he knows he is, without any doubt.

Maybe later she won't be scared anymore.