Special Note: According to the Black family tree, Charlus and Dorea (Black) Potter had a son (unnamed). I choose to believe that these are James' parents. How do I reconcile Jo's description of them- James's parents were elderly, were getting on a little when he was born, which explains the only child, very pampered, had-him-late-in-life-so-he's-an-extra-treasure, as often happens, I think. They were old in wizarding terms, and they died- with the tapestry's assertion that Dorea was 57 at her death? I think the Blacks played fast-and-loose with their dates, for reasons only a Black could fathom. :D
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Chapter 21- Visions of Sugarplums
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The crystal sparkled, the silver gleamed brightly, and the food was as good as the wine. Sirius sat back in his chair and sighed contentedly. The Potters had a gift for hospitality.
Beside him, James set aside his serviette and cleared his throat.
"Are you coming down with a cold, darling?" Mrs. Potter asked. Before her son could answer, she rang a bell.
The housekeeper bustled in. "Yes, Madam?"
"Please fetch James a Pepper Up Potion, Mrs. Stevens. He has a cold."
"I don't have a cold," said James.
"Good," said Mr. Potter. "Germs you young people shrug off might kill old folks like us."
Mrs. Potter peered across the table. "No cold? Perhaps you have a tickle in your throat." She turned to the housekeeper. "A throat lozenge, then, with a hot rum toddy."
"I don't need a hot toddy," James said.
"I'll take it," said Sirius, grinning.
"Neither of us needs a rum toddy," James said with a quelling look at his friend.
Sirius refrained from joking that he wanted one, anyway, heavy on the rum. His best mate frowned over anything to do with drinking since that incident with Snape, when firewhisky made a certain prank seem so brilliant.
"All right, we'll just have pudding," said Mrs. Potter.
"Trifle is very soothing to sore throats," Mrs. Stevens said, trading a conspiratorial smile with her mistress.
James waited until dessert was served to say, "Mother, Father, I was clearing my throat because I wanted to get your attention. There is something I need to tell you."
"He sounds just like your father when he speaks so formally, doesn't he Charlus?" Mrs. Potter said, pressing her hands to her heart.
"Quite, Dorea. Almost makes me fear receiving a stinging hex for nicking Cook's biscuits between meals." Smiling, Mr. Potter said, "We are not so old fashioned, son. Informal address is permissible."
"And much preferred," Mrs. Potter said with an adoring smile.
Sirius watched James nervously adjust his glasses. Clearing his throat again, James said, "Mum, Dad, there is something I want to tell you."
Mr. Potter's bushy white eyebrows drew together. "Need and want are two different things, son. Which is it?"
Mrs. Potter sighed. "Remember when James needed a Hippogriff for his fifth birthday?" Her lips pursed as she slanted a narrow-eyed look at her husband. "I still fail to see why that was such an unreasonable request."
"I had already acquired a pony, Madam. The boy needed to learn to ride. He only wanted to ride a Hippogriff!"
"Please refrain from argument in front of the children," Mrs. Potter scolded. "I read it makes them fret their parents are divorcing."
Sirius coughed to hide a laugh.
Next to him, James took a deep breath and said, "Mum, Dad, I need to tell you…I have a girlfriend."
"Yes, we know, Lily Evans," Mrs. Potter said brightly.
"How did you know?" demanded James.
"Aside from copious mentions in every correspondence you have sent in the last two years?" Mr. Potter gave a dry huff of laughter. "A fortunate guess."
James turned red in the face. "Yes, well, Lily is my girlfriend and…there's-something-else-I-need-to-tell-you," he finished in a garbled rush.
"Were you speaking Goblin?" Mrs. Potter said excitedly. "I must take you with me to the bank. I have always wanted to know what the clerks talk about in between customers!"
"No Mum, I said there is something else I need to tell you," James said determinedly.
Sirius was enjoying the tennis match of a conversation, watching the players lob verbal volleys back and forth across the table. Mrs. Potter reached for her husband's hand, holding it tightly as she said, "You want the Potter engagement ring, passed down to every generation except your father's, because we eloped?"
"You eloped?" Sirius asked. James shot daggers, prompting him to say, "You must tell me about that…some other time."
James took a breath and tried again, "I don't need the engagement ring…right now," he added, seeing his mother's face fall. When she smiled at the thought of his needing it some day, he said, "I've invited Lily and her family to dinner."
"Tonight?" growled Mr. Potter. "We're already to afters, my boy!"
"No, tomorrow night," James said.
Mrs. Potter beamed. "How thoughtful you are, giving us time to whip up a feast." She waved her hand. A quill and parchment appeared. She said, "What are their names, favourite colours and foods?"
"Erm…Mr. and Mrs. Evans and Lily's sister Petunia will be attending. Lily likes green, and I'm sure Muggle food isn't much different than Wizard."
"Did…did he say…Muggle, Charlus?" Mrs. Potter asked her husband.
"Yes, Dorea," Mr. Potter replied.
"Your Lily's family are truly Muggle, darling?" she asked her son.
"Yes," James answered warily.
Sirius thought Mrs. Potter would cry from happiness.
"Oh James!" she said, "This is more than a dinner. This is S.P.A.M. in action!" She rose to her feet. "There is so much to do. I must find Mrs. Stevens." At the door, she half-turned and said, "If I don't get round to tucking you in, boys, I'll see you bright and early in the morning! Goodnight!"
"Goodnight Mum!"
"Goodnight Mrs. Potter!"
Mr. Potter removed a cigar from an inner pocket of his robes when his wife left the room. He grinned at the boys and lit the cigar with a wave of his fingertips. "Let us adjourn to the attics, lads!"
I never failed to amaze Sirius how much artisanship went into the elaborate railway displays. The scenery was highly detailed, from the towns to the people in period dress. He had fun pressing buttons to activate the spells setting the trains into motion with lights and sound.
"Look over here! Dad's added a fairground diorama!"
Sirius walked over to see the minute fairground, lit up as at night, complete with a big wheel, swings, a roundabout, music and a carnival procession.
"Your mother hounded me to put it in, to show S.P.A.M. support," Mr. Potter said. "I find myself humming the tunes. Do you suppose a Dark wizard wrote them?"
"They're just catchy, Dad," James said.
"I don't know about that," Sirius joked. "When I hear the music, I get the urge to take a girl to the top of the big wheel."
"As do I!" Mr. Potter exclaimed. He turned off the music box. "I shall take this Muggle Artefact to the Ministry immediately after the holidays, to check for misuse."
"You're not really going to take Mum on a wheel, are you?" asked James, when his father walked to the main 'exhibition' to put the trains through their paces for his audience.
"We've already been, over a month ago, on Bonfire Night. Your mother and I could not but admire the ingenuity of Muggles, and their hardiness," Mr. Potter said. "Braving the elements without warming charms," he marvelled. "That was almost as impressive as their marvellous machinery!"
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James muttered about his 'foolhardy' parents all the way down from the attics to their rooms. "Can you believe they went on a big wheel?"
Sirius said, "Without you? How shocking! There should be a ban on parents having fun without their children."
James laughed. "I am envious. I want to snog Lily at the top of one of those wheels!"
I want to snog Rosmerta, Sirius thought, bidding James goodnight.
After he climbed between Egyptian cotton sheets, Sirius drifted off to sleep. He dreamt of a fairground where Rosmerta clutched him tightly as the passenger gondola of the big wheel rocked into motion, lifting them into the air. He kissed away her fears, so by the time they reached the top, they were wrapped up in each other and oblivious of the lights of London spread out before them.
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The Caribbean sun beat down on the weathered deck of the merchant brig Constance. Standing beside the rail near the bow, Rose turned her face into the breeze, while at her side, her cousin groaned. "Am I completely green about the gills?" Fiona asked, clutching her stomach.
"More pasty white, with a lovely film of sweat above your upper lip."
"Deuce take it! Captain McInnis is looking this way. Give me your handkerchief!"
Rose handed over the scrap of linen with a smile that faded when a cry echoed above the noise of the crew.
"Tis the Jolly Roger! She waves the Jolly Roger!"
The dread of the men on deck was palpable now that the vessel that had been a speck in the distance was identified as a pirate ship.
"We are too small to carry plunder worth their while," said the Captain as he approached the women. "We shall continue our course unless they prepare to ram and grapple." He said apologetically, "We will have to surrender if they do."
The pirate ship, a cutter, was lighter and faster than the law-abiding vessel. Within minutes, the lookout in the Constance's crow's nest cried, "It be the Black Joke, Captain! She ran up the white flag!"
"Are they surrendering?" Fiona asked the Captain.
He laughed shortly. "No. They want something…"
Rose said, "Will they board?"
"Yes. I must ask you ladies to wait in my cabin until they depart."
The women hurried to do the Captain's bidding.
"This is a pleasant space. Spacious and elegant," Fiona said, gesturing to the damask draperies and china tea service upon the oak desk which doubled as a table.
Rose sat on the double bunk hewn into the ship. "Does that mean you will sail with your husband, Mrs. McInnis?"
"Hush! He has not mentioned marriage…yet," Fiona said with a wide smile.
The women talked about weddings until they heard the unmistakeable sounds of Pirates boarding.
"What do you suppose they want?" asked Fiona.
Rose looked out the porthole. "We will see," she said.
"They are much quieter than I had thought," Fiona chattered nervously. "I expected to hear the clash of steel and smell the scent of gunpowder."
"Have you been reading romances again?" Rose teased.
"I shall not answer, on the grounds that…Ahh!" Fiona cried, when the door to the cabin flew open.
"Good afternoon, Ladies."
The laughing voice belonged to a pirate who sauntered inside the cabin and stood smiling at the women. Black hair framed a face that was more handsome than any illustration in a romance novel. His tall frame, clothed in a flowing white shirt, leather jerkin and breeches, gave the attire a casual elegance.
"Are you not…young…to be a pirate?" asked Fiona.
"I'm past legal age, if that's your worry," the pirate said with a wink.
Fiona turned bright pink. "You vile, revolting creature!"
"Sticks and stones, luv." Merry grey eyes turned to Rose. "I was told the governor's daughter was a lady who looks like a tavern wench." His eyes became smoky as they roamed her curves. "You must be Rose."
Rose lifted her chin proudly. "I am." Her heart, already pounding, began to race when he bowed.
"Captain Maddog, at your service. I'll be escorting you to my ship until His Excellency and I come to terms."
"You are a mad dog!" Fiona shouted.
A white smile flashed in a tanned face. "No, that was m'father. They call me Black Dog."
"Do not go with him," pleaded Fiona, when Rose stood.
"He will not hurt me," Rose said, "And if I do not, every soul on this ship is in jeopardy."
"Why? Have they not said their prayers?" Captain Maddog smiled to see Rose's lips twitch.
She hugged Fiona tightly. "I will send a letter as soon as I am able."
Her dear cousin's tears were hard to bear, but Rose walked out of the cabin with her shoulders squared in determination.
"I will report this atrocity at once," Captain McInnis told Rose as she passed him.
"You do that," said Captain Maddog. He reached into his jerkin and brought out a letter sealed with wax. "The sooner His Excellency gets my letter, the sooner everything will be resolved. Savvy?"
"I understand," Captain McInnis gritted through his teeth.
Rose climbed down the rope ladder and sat silently in the boat as the pirates rowed their captain and his hostage back to the Black Joke. "Odd name for a ship," she said.
"Constance? I agree. Sounds like a fusty old aunt."
"No, the Black Joke."
Captain Maddog grinned. "Means the Black Dog always has the last laugh, luv."
The men guffawed while Rose pressed her lips together. Once she stood upon the deck of the cutter, she listened to the captain remind his men to treat her better than their mothers and followed when he took her arm and steered her toward the captain's quarters.
Inside the cabin, she looked at the handsome pirate and asked bluntly, "Do you plan to have your way with me?"
A heart-stealing grin spread across his face. "I told your father I planned to marry his daughter, if you'll make an honest man of your lover, Rosie."
She threw herself into his arms. "Of course I'll marry you! I've wanted to run away with you since the night you came to the Masquerade and stole my heart."
His kisses made her knees weak. When she sagged against him, her love lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bunk.
"How do maidservants untie all these bloody knots?" he said in laughing frustration, tugging at her stays.
Rose giggled. "Cut them, Sirius!"
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"ROS!"
Her father's shout brought Rosmerta out of her daydream.
"Where's that book I asked yeh to get me!"
Rosmerta looked at the two books she had been contemplating when her imagination had run away with her. The Princess and Her Pirate had a dark-haired heroine pressing her cleavage against a pirate's strapping, bare chest. Pirate's Rose depicted a black-haired pirate kissing his blonde ladylove's hand.
She shoved the Pirate's Rose novel back between the mattresses and walked down the corridor to her father's room.
Diarmid was sitting up in bed, fully dressed, with an expectant smile on his face. Rosmerta wondered if Iris had any idea what she was about to read. Her eyes went to Mrs. Bouquet. The woman smirked.
"I bin savin' this book for a snowy day," Diarmid said.
His gloating tone made Mrs. Bouquet's eyebrows rise. "Is it the equivalent of butterbeer, warm and frothy?"
"Hot chocolate, I'm thinkin'," Diarmid said, snickering.
Rosmerta handed Iris the book with an apologetic smile and backed out of the room. She paused on the top stair, curious to hear how the woman would react to her reading material.
"Look there. Ain't that the biggest ass you've ever seen?" Ralph asked, and pointed gleefully over the head of his shipmates.
"WHAT?" Rosmerta heard her father exclaim.
Mrs. Bouquet continued reading. The listener on the stairs had to cover her mouth in order not to laugh.
"Ahh." Ralph sighed and shook his oversized head, apparently oblivious to the sickening roll of the ship. "Makes me 'appy just to think of the things I could do with an ass like that."
Rosmerta, who had read the book and knew full well the 'ass' in question was an animal the farmer-turned-bodyguard watched on shore, was amused at her father's spluttering protests. Mrs. Bouquet ignored her patient's irate grumbles and continued to read in her pleasant, calm voice.
Smiling so widely her cheeks hurt, Rosmerta continued downstairs to retrieve her cloak.
Girl Guides assembling gingerbread houses filled the café area of Fiona's bookshop. At the counter, Mrs. McFee was assisting Fiona in setting out the candy needed for decoration.
"Auntie Rosmerta! Come look at my house," Natalie said, waving her over.
"It's charming!" Rosmerta said, admiring the storybook cottage.
"Mrs. McFee patterned it after her great-gran's cottage," the girl said excitedly. She lifted up a tiny gingerbread boy and girl. "These are the naughty vandals I'm going to bake in my oven!"
Emma, who sat across the table from her best friend, said sheepishly, "I ate my Hansel already."
"Rosmerta! Come help us pass out the candy," Fiona called.
"Like mother, like daughter, managing females you two," Rosmerta joked, taking a swipe of icing off a gingerbread roof. Her mouth immediately puckered.
"You're not supposed to eat it!" Natalie and the girls around her burst into laughter, watching Rosmerta run behind the counter to wash her mouth out in the sink.
"Have you never made a gingerbread house, my dear?" Mrs. McFee asked, with only a twinkle in her eye to betray amusement.
"Only gingerbread castles for the Princess of the Pub, eh Ros?" Fiona teased.
Rosmerta dried her face with a tea towel. "Neither, actually. My mother thought Christmas a Muggle-ish holiday, so we barely decorated." She gazed around the shop decked with boughs of holly along with greenery and candles. "You've done a fabulous job, Fiona."
"Thanks, now let's pass out the candy before the start gluing each other to the chairs with that icing!"
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After a gift exchange of handcrafted presents, the group gathered around the small fireplace in the back wall of the café. Each girl held a piece of parchment in her hands stating a Christmas wish to benefit others. One by one, they tossed in their letters and watched the draft carry the smoke up for Father Christmas to 'read.'
"Leaders too!" Natalie reminded.
Fiona and Mrs. McFee threw theirs in, but when Rosmerta went to fling her parchment into the flames, the door to the bookshop opened, and the gust of wind that entered carried her letter away from the fire, toward the front door.
Hamish McInnis strode forward and bent to pick up the parchment. "Did someone lose their…" He faltered, a red tinge matching his scarf colouring his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I thought it was a Christmas drawing, I didn't mean to read it," he said, extending the paper to Rosmerta.
"Don't say what she wrote or it won't come true!" Natalie cried, running to Hamish. "Wouldn't you be sorry if she didn't get her Christmas wish?"
Bright blue eyes flickered from the girl to her mother and landed on Rosmerta, who smiled uncertainly. Hamish winked. "Aye, I'd be sorry indeed."
Rosmerta carried her letter to the fireplace and dropped it into the flames, hoping a magic more powerful than Father Christmas' would make her wish come true.
Please let Hamish realise Fiona cares for him and kiss her beneath the mistletoe.
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"Does the house look inviting, Sirius?" Mrs. Potter asked for the third time that day.
Everywhere he looked, red, green, gold, white, and silver ribbons adorned holly, ivy, and evergreen wreaths, garlands, and boughs. "It's a winter wonderland," he said with a smile.
"That's a lovely phrase, winter wonderland. Takes me back to that Christmas in Lapland, when James made the reindeer fly and we slept in a Lappish snow village…" Her soft, nostalgic tone abruptly became businesslike. "I made sure all the candles are on tables and mantels, not floating about the house."
"Er…any particular reason why?" asked Sirius.
"I read that some Muggles become nervous in surroundings too dissimilar to what they are used to." She brushed the ruby velvet skirt of her floor length gown and reached out to adjust Sirius' bow tie. "These people will most likely become family. I want them to feel right at home."
At that moment, James rushed into the Drawing Room. "Has Lily arrived?"
His mother bustled over to smooth his tuxedo lapel. "No, dearest."
Mr. Potter entered the room, tugging at his tuxedo jacket. "Dress robes are far more comfortable," he said. "I feel like a ruddy penguin." Walking over to a table near the drinks cabinet, he said, "Cook has outdone herself with the eggnog this year. Would anyone care for a glass?"
"Brandy or sherry in the nog?" Sirius asked.
"Brandy."
"Then yes, please, I would love a glass."
Sirius had drunk an entire bottle of nauseatingly sweet sherry one memorable Christmas, and loathed the smell and taste ever since. He took the cup Mr. Potter offered and turned to the others. "Would anyone else like a cup?"
"No thanks. My stomach is churning," said James.
"I had better abstain, dear. I've had two cups already," Mrs. Potter said with a mischievous smile. "I should not to want to slur my words by the end of dinner. James would never forgive me."
"I would forgive you, Mum…but I wouldn't let you forget it."
The men in the room jumped when the sound of music filled the air.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
"What the blazes?" Mr. Potter demanded.
Mrs. Potter smiled delightedly. "I read that Muggles have devices called doorbells that play music to alert their hosts to their presence. I altered the wards on the front door to make our guests feel at home. Isn't the sound lovely?"
Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
"Yes, Mum, and loud as well. We need to answer the door before they go deaf!"
"James, I know you are excited, but please, refrain from exaggeration." She placed her hand on her husband's sleeve and said, "Now, let us welcome our guests."
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A/N: There was once a pirate called Black Bart Roberts (that's where Dread Pirate Roberts from the Princess Bride came from) who commanded the Black Joke. Pirate's Rose is a title that caught my eye while doing, erm, research for this chap. The Princess and Her Pirate by Lois Greiman, is the only novel I used for quotes and cover description as well as the title. I found another pirate romance that opened with a conversation eventually revealed to be about a large rooster, but I refrained from using it…didn't want to give Diarmid a heart attack, LOL. The people who kept my heart beating with happiness over their reviews last chap were……... 40/16 alix33 An Aspiring Author arb princess Carnivalgirl comettail cupcakeswirl FNP Freja Lercke-Falkenborg GraceRichie ishandtwofourths Machiavelli Jr (I like here over SU, but I'm happy to get a review anytime, anywhere, lol) MollyCoddles Moonlight Sivaroobini Lupin-Black Slipknot-3113 Sophia Loren sunny9847 Watch Out for Yellow Moon and Zenna