25 December 1984
 Evans Cottage, Kingsgate Bay

Christmas hit the Kingsgate Village in a whirlwind of brightly coloured lights and tinsel. Doorways were kissed with mistletoe, boughs laden with glittering baubles, windows lined with candles and the scent of gingerbread mixed with sea salt wafted throughout every building. Frosted doors bore wreaths of evergreen & holly, with some baring shiny ribbons and others small pinecones and cottages decorated in multicoloured were snow dusted rooftops, Christmas Sale stickers plastered along store windows and the nearby lighthouse had switched out its usual bulb for something a little more festive.

In the Potter household, the lights & decorations blanketed every available surface of both the house & garden. Sirius, James and Remus had had a laugh & a half putting those up as soon as December had hit. Sirius kept wanting to (jokingly) put the light-up reindeer into lewd positions and Remus kept coming up behind him & setting them to rights. James, on the other hand, insisted on putting up the lights by himself, no matter how many times he ended up entangled in the twisty cables. Eventually Lily had to step in, but not without perfectly capturing the scene in all of its enchanted polaroid dumping of snow which fell from the overhanging canopy was just the cherry on top.

Every day of the merry month, Harry had run about the house kitted out in felted reindeer antlers that sang an instrumental We Wish You a Merry Christmas whenever you pushed a button on the headband, and the little jingle bells tinkled whenever he moved even an inch. So, suffice to say, they had no trouble keeping track of the rambunctious child. Not to mention all the songs he'd learnt during kindergarten down in the local village, with Grandma got Run Over by a Reindeer, being a particular favourite.

On the matter of Harry's primary schooling, Lily had all but commanded that he have the same pre-Hogwarts education as herself and all the trimmings that came with it; including kindergarten & primary school. The idea was that, in a house full of magic, the halfblood would still be able to experience the different facets of his muggle heritage. Not that Harry seemed to be able to grasp the difference between the two worlds at this age. James had agreed with this, of course, but only because he added that Harry would have to learn the intricacies that came with being an heir to the revered House of Potter as well. Jean had taken almost vindictive pleasure in watching the former Boy-Who-Lived struggle to remember which fork was used for which meal, particularly when she recalled the many times he & Ron had pestered her for help (read: copy) with their homework.

Sunken back against her pillows, Jean basked in the not-quite-awake glow of early morning. The seagulls had yet to start singing, waves crashed relentlessly against the cliffside and snow dusted the garden like icing sugar. Lethargic limbs stretched out before flopping bonelessly back against the mattress (she reckoned if she'd been conscious when she had first placed in this bed, that she would've found it too soft after growing used to camp beds & sleeping bags. As it was, her body had grown used to the softness, even if her mind had not).

Sleep-encrusted lids peeled open to mere slits and glared at the wall at her feet momentarily, as toddler feet thundered back & forth. The neighbouring bedroom practically hummed with the barely-contained excitement of a certain bespectacled toddler as the daylight hours neared ever closer. Jean could only guess what Harry was up to. Next to her Crookshanks—the ever-rumbling motor—huddled further beneath the warmth of her duvet. The little ginger tom had become a constant (& welcomed) fixture in her new life, but she was just glad to have a piece of her old life still in one piece, untouched & untainted. Even if he wasn't (yet) the grouchy old feline whom she'd plucked from the Magical Menagerie way back when.

Jean absently fiddled with his bottle-brush tail as she thought about the amalgamation of Yuletide & Christmas traditions that she had been ambushed with. From what she could ascertain, the Potter-Black family observed a combination of the two holidays; with the Yule Log forever burning in the hearth to the stocking-studded mantelpiece, and the Christmas crackers lain upon the dining table. Tilly, who had switched out her usual bland pillowcase for something a little more festive, had busied herself with a steady stream of holiday-themed goodies all Solstice-Long.

The night before, on Christmas Eve, Harry & Jean had started the evening off by watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on BBC, completely captivated by the animated movie as flickered across the screen whilst the adults busied themselves with the comings & goings of their old Hogwarts friends (those who were still alive). A couple would stay for a drink & quick anecdote or two, before disappearing again in a flurry of drunken holiday greetings. Of course, they could've used owls (as some who were further abroad had done already), but after the war, they'd chosen almost any little incident or notion to see each other in person, if only to assuage any lingering fears (not that Jean could blame them, they'd done the same thing in her time, afterall).

After supper (and all of the older Hogwarts generation) had left, the Potters gathered about the blazing hearth with mugs that teemed with eggnog & hot chocolate. Nestled between the gaudy tree and the warm hearth stones, where all of the cats had sprawled out upon them, creating a carpet of fluff. Over on the couch, James held a beloved book aloft as Lily cuddled into his side and the words of Dickens' A Christmas Carol fell from his lips.

Next to her, Harry had cuddled up next to Padfoot and was forever switching between listening to the story, checking the chimney for Santa Claus (the toddler had been rather concerned when he'd heard that the jolly man would be coming down the chimney whilst the Yule Log was lit. The 'Blazing Santa Meltdown' was legendary and the fiery accidental magic that came with it) and trying to fight the pull of his tired lids as he listened to the lilting sounds of his father's voice. It was not a fight he would win. Jean's lips twitched upwards when she recalled how the toddler had all but collapsed onto Padfoot, much to his amusement, fast asleep.

"BRIGHT YULETIDE, FAMILY!" Sirius bellowed as he suddenly flounced passed, arms cast heavenward as he moved flamboyantly down the hallway.

"Mother—!" Jean quietly cursed, hand flying up to calm her racing heart. All she caught of him was a glimpse of shaggy speckled hair and dog-patterned boxer shorts as he passed. Sirius, who had spent most of his days hunting down Peter, had seemed to age far beyond his years and was already greying a little much to his despair. But no matter how stressful the whole ordeal was, he refused to hand it off to anyone else and had become almost obsessive over the whole thing. Even Moody had put the case on the back burner, and that man was like a dog with a bone!

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, UNCA PADDY!" Harry roared as he exploded from his bedroom in a flash of scarlet pyjamas, arms laden with shoddily-wrapped presents and glasses haphazardly skewered across his face. A low pitiful groan sounded from the end bedroom, but no other movements were heard.

"And a merry Christmas to you too, Prongslette!" Sirius replied, lowering his tone slightly. "Whatcha got there?"

"Prezzies!" Harry chirped gleefully, "We made 'em at school!"

"I'm sure they'll be great! Why don't you go put them under the tree?"

"Okay!"

"BRIGHT YULETIDE, TILLY—!"

"—BLACK! I SWEAR TO GOD…!" Lily suddenly burst from the end bedroom, hair a mess and eyes blazing just as Tilly whacked the aforementioned wizard with a wooden spoon.

SMACK!

"Ow…!" Sirius whined, nursing the spot where the house elf had whacked him with her wooden spoon.

"Shhh!" Tilly hissed, "Messers Black should quietened down! People is still sleeping, they is!"

"You up already, Pads?" James mumbled, blindly coming to stand behind his wife and looped his arms around her waist, pulling her close as he rested his head in the crook of her neck. Both men may have been in their 30s, but they still acted like was a spry and lovesick 16 year olds.

"C'me on, Prongsie!" Sirius chirped, "Say it! It's tradition!"

"…And Circe bless us, everyone" James bemusedly grumbled as he buried his face into his wife's shoulder.

"WHAT'S YOU TAKING SO LONG?!" Harry cried from the end of the hall, little feet thundering up the steps as fast as his legs could take him. "SANTA WAS HERE! IT'S PREZZIE TIME! SISSY! WAKE UP!"

Breakfast was a simple affair, easy and light, as lunch with the full family (both Potters, Evans and Dursleys) was bound to be more food than any of them could possibly stomach. Harry (and Sirius) had practically vibrated in their seats as they inhaled their respective breakfasts in order to get to the presents faster.

Still dressed in pyjamas, cheeks dusted with toast crumbs and lips adorned in jam & marmalade moustaches; they dropped to the floor by the tree to exchange presents, popped crackers and strewn the colourful wrappings across the floor. Jean had been pleased to note that she had been gifted with a selection of goodies; generic, but still welcomed. From the assortment of Honeydukes sweets, Harry's handmade trinkets, a selection of muggle & magical books and a variety of clothes as her own time-period appropriate wardrobe was currently deplorable.

Jean could never brag about being fashion-forward, in this life or the previous one, but she thought that her pervious (and current) wardrobe would fit rather nicely into the 80s grunge. With a penchant of knitwear, tartan/plaid, graphic t-shirts and anything with pockets she figured she could pass as a child of the 80s. Though thanks, in some part, to Lily's influence, pinafores, dungarees and circle skirts had quickly taken over her (supposedly) sparse wardrobe. Lily had never been the best sewer—even with the aid of magic—and relied heavily on simple patterns such as the circle skirt. Thankfully the billowy-ness of the pattern allowed her to pass off most outfits as some sort of wizarding robes. Either way, Jean found herself particularly drawn to the flowy blouse, the circle shawl & simple bandana which the older witch had made her. And besides, it's not like Jean could boast better sewing skills; hers had been born from years on the run & darning their socks.

Sure, there was a part of her that figured she could have (and probably still would) fashion something acceptable from the clothes she already had hidden inside her little beaded bag (which surprisingly was still intact, thanks in part, to all the wards she had placed on it over the years. Although warded from here to kingdom-come, that might not have meant much to a former Brightest Witch of her Age if Lily decided she wanted to peer inside). Jean would have to slowly interweave some of her own clothes in increments so as to not raise their suspicions, just as she had done with the money she had. It had been hard enough to justify to the Potter's elf why she had as much when purchasing her own Christmas gifts.

But it wasn't like she was complaining! Far from it, in fact it seemed like they had been thinking along the same sort of lines because she had returned the gesture (with little thank yous for caring for her over the past couple of years) in kind. Yes, they were generic/slightly obvious presents and yes, she had had needed some outsider input to put it all together, but everyone appeared to like their gifts nonetheless. Journeying into the village one day, she'd managed to sweep through most of the family in one go and for those she didn't, she simply ordered via owl post.

For Harry, this was a sunshine Care Bear plushie, Funshine Bear. The plushie bears had become quite popular over the past couple of years, following the release of several musical children songs about the bears. She'd heard the boy mention them in passing—something about a friend or another bringing their own to class—and figured it would be a safe enough purchase. He seemed to like it well enough. As for the adults, Jean had struggled on finding something that would be suitable for both their tastes and her situation. She couldn't very well give them a gift like she knew them personally, despite having grown up listening to tales of Lily & James, the beloved star-crossed parents of her best friend and the mischievous tales of the prankster geniuses that were the Marauders. And as far as they knew, she was just some kid they'd picked up and been saddled with for the better half of four years.

For James this meant a Puddlemere United quidditch shirt, chosen with Tilly's help and supported by the old quidditch duvet tossed across the end of her bed. He seemed pleased (Tilly had helped her resize the shirt to fit), if a little surprised. Jean couldn't even wrap Lily's present as it consisted of another bushel of snapdragons that nipped & bit anything within reach, in which she could add to her already overwhelmed garden. As for Sirius, she'd gotten the canine several pairs of appropriately themed socks plus a collection of sweets. He'd immediately pulled on the neon pink pair of dog socks, pronouncing them perfect, and she'd done the same for Remus (mailing them off some days previous with a quick thank you note slapped on the front) who was spending the holiday with his own family back home.

In all in all, it wasn't the worst Christmas she'd ever had. That one went to the first Christmas with her parents after the war, where she discovered that she now had a younger brother, named Hermes, for the daughter they did not know they had had. It had only just marginally beat out the one from when they were on the run, hunting horcruxes the first time around and Ron had done a runner after cussing out Harry (under the influence of the current horcrux). So as she fingered the floral cloth of one of the button-down dresses she'd been given, Jean could safely say, that she was enjoying the day and dare she say, even looking forward to it. But there were still hours in the day and the full family lunch to come. And in the immortal words of Grandma Aggie, "…Christmas ain't Christmas, 'til somebody cries"