Chapter 10
(A/N) Why does everyone want me to hurry up and finish this? It's quite long, so be patient! There's a bunch of description in this chapter. Thanks for the reviews!
Disclaimer: I own the oh-so-wonderful plot. The song "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow," belongs to some guy… I can't remember his name, exactly.
*~*~*~*~*
Mr. James Potter Sr. stood in the front of the building he had once called "home". It hadn't changed much, he noted. The place was still drafty, the walls still dusty, the students still noisy, the caretaker still lazy, and… he loved this place.
Walking into the familiar halls, decorated with holly, fairies, icicles, and trees, he turned and walked past the stone gargoyles with a quick "Sugar Quills". Albus Dumbledore and his ridiculous passwords. Lightly rapping the wooden door three times, he waited for the Headmaster to open the door.
"Mr. Potter! What a pleasure! Please, come in, come in," Dumbledore greeted, welcoming him in. Indeed, he had two dozen sugar quills in the penholder he had received last Christmas.
"Albus, I have come to see my son," Mr. Potter stated formally.
"Of course you have!" the man laughed heartily. In his younger days, Mr. Potter had thought that Dumbledore would make a pretty good imitation of a skinny Santa Clause. "You always seem to come around this time of year!"
"Yes," he said stiffly. "The usual. I will stay until Christmas night."
"Very good!" the headmaster clapped. "You'll be able to join in on our festivities on the night of the Ball!"
"Perhaps," he nodded. "However, I am a busy man, Albus. So don't set an extra place for me yet."
"Oh, but you'll miss your son's opening of the Ball!" Dumbledore said. "He's opening it with our Head Girl, Miss Evans. Surely you wouldn't want to miss such an event?"
"I'll try to come. Good day, Headmaster. Please inform James that I'm on my way."
*~*~*~*~*
Lily Evans detested the waltz.
Well, perhaps she didn't detest the waltz itself, but, rather, everything it reminded her of. Numerous time, she had been instructed to "step and glide, step and glide," with several boys back in the charm school, at the prefects' balls, and now again… with James Potter.
"Potter!" she hissed, as he led them to the right.
"What?"
"Wrong direction! It's the left!" she said.
"Calm down, Evans," James said cooly, redirecting them to the left.
"Someone's watching us," Lily murmured.
Pausing mid-step, James turned around to see his father watching the two practicing.
"Dad. Uh, hello?" he dropped Lily's hand.
"James," the man nodded slightly. "Is there any need for me to ask for the reason you are dancing the waltz with a girl in the middle of the common room?"
"Oh. Right, uh… We were practicing for the ball," James said.
"Right. Well, lead the way, son," Mr. Potter said, as James walked over.
"We'll practice later," he nodded to her, brushing past.
Lily watched confusedly as James and his father left through the portrait hole. That was his father? She failed to see the resemblance in character, though the appearance was obvious.
*~*~*~*~*
"So, you're Head Boy," Mr. Potter nodded his approval as he took a seat in the Head Boy and Girl's room.
The room itself was nice enough, James had noted, though he and Lily rarely spent their time there, as they didn't have use for it. Still, it was occasionally used for the Marauder's meetings, referred to as the Marauder's Headquarters. The room was in the fashion of a common room, the sofas and benches set around the carpet in the middle. A fire crackled in the front of the room, a coffee table set in the middle of the carpet. There was a writing desk near the fire, a bookshelf next to it. Across the room, there was a large window, which had the large, dark maroon drapes drawn.
"Yes, I am," James said. He had a tendency to speak formally in the presence of his father.
"And I assume the girl you were dancing with is the Head Girl?"
"Yes, sir."
Sir. He hated that, yet he still called his father the title. How many other teenagers called their fathers "sir"?
"Hmm. Is she a good student?" Mr. Potter asked.
"I would say so," James said carefully. He had to choose his words precisely, a habit he had learned at eight.
"Your mother had me bring her Christmas present for you. She said not to open it until Christmas," James Potter Senior said, handing his son a package wrapped brightly in red and green.
"Thank you," James took the package and put it aside.
"Yes. I trust that you bought the appropriate gifts? I won't have my money wasted on foolish sentimental things, James-"
"I know, I know," James nodded. His father's rules. Acquaintances, friends, important acquaintances, and so forth. There was even a rule on what to get acquaintances for one he didn't especially like. Was his life filled with "acquaintances"? And just a few friends?
"Good," Mr. Potter nodded. "How much left?"
"Six galleons, two sickles," James said, handing the remaining money over to his father.
"Good. So… how are your studies?"
"It's Christmas break, dad," he said. Sometimes his father forgot the more important things in life, such as holidays, his family… James swallowed. His father hadn't been at his birth, nor any birthdays after he turned thirteen. "You're a man," he had said, "And men don't need birthday parties."
"Ah. So, how's quidditch?"
"It's alright. We drew one, and the other was postponed because Eva- uh, Lily Evans, the Head Girl, caught the snitch somehow," James said.
"A member of the audience caught the snitch?" Mr. Potter frowned. "Perhaps the charms on that thing aren't strong enough."
"It's fine, dad."
This was followed by a long, painful silence between father and son. In James' son, the two might as well be strangers; his father had missed out on most of his life, despite all the letters he had written him.
His mother encouraged it, despite his protests. "He'll appreciate it, dear," she had said. So he kept writing, though his father never wrote back. Now, it seemed as if his father were just a name at the top of his letters. As if, "dad" was just a name without a meaning, an imaginary friend, to whom he wrote everything to. Most of it was about the Marauders, quidditch, school, things Dumbledore had said, and a certain girl by the name of Lily Evans.
At the thought of her, James felt himself involuntarily smile. How many times had he wrote to his father "Today, Lily Evans pushed me into the lake", or "Lily Evans hexed me today," or perhaps, "Lily Evans actually topped me in Astronomy"? Countless times. In fact, most of those letters mentioned her name at least once.
Not necessarily good things, but funny. He found the thought of Lily Evans pleasantly amusing? Christmas certainly did affect the mind in a strange way.
*~*~*~*~*
"Tomorrow's the Ball!"
Lily rolled her eyes as Evelyn bounced up and down on her four poster bed.
"Careful, Ev, you might hit the top," she warned.
Her friend ignored her. "Tomorrow's the ball, tomorrow's the ball, tomorrow's the BALL!"
"You mentioned that," she said sarcastically, turning from the antique writing desk, similar to the one in the Head Boy and Girl's room.
"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve!" Bella announced to the world, swinging the door open. Joining Evelyn on her own four poster bed, she bounced up and down, saying, "Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, tomorrow's Christmas Eve, tomorrow's CHRISTMAS EVE!"
"The ball!"
"Christmas Eve!"
"Dancing!"
"Presents!"
"How romantic!"
"How fun!"
"I'll look great!"
"I'll look great!"
Lily sighed. "Are you sure you're seventeen? You two sound more like little seven year olds to me," she said.
"That's because you sound twenty-seven, Lils," Evelyn said, bouncing up and down, continuing her chant, "Tomorrow's the ball!"
"So in other words, I baby-sit seven year olds in the bodies of teenagers on the brink of adulthood the entire school year, without pay. Lovely," Lily said skeptically. "And don't call me that."
"Spoil sport!"
"Stick-in-the-mud!"
"Party pooper!"
Groaning, Lily muttered, "Can't beat 'em, join 'em." Thus, she clambered onto Evelyn's bed and joined in, "Tomorrow's the day Potter and Lockhart get to ruin my Christmas!"
"Try something with less syllables," Evelyn advised.
*~*~*~*~*
"Get your gifts, Lily Billy! It's wrapping time!" Sirius cried gleefully, prancing to the first year's dorms, he shouted through the doors, "Wrapping time! Wrapping Time! Glimpse at your presents time!"
Rolling her eyes, Lily retrieved her gifts as Sirius continued to announce the arrival of gift wrapping time.
"Sirius? The first years are at the Hogsmeade, along with the second and third years."
Sirius pouted. "Why weren't we invited?"
"Because we went a two days ago," Lily replied, performing a quick invisibility charm on her presents as Sirius approached her.
"Oh. Well, where's the fourth, fifth, and sixth years?"
"Attempting to bring to life the incredibly large snowman you made a few days ago," she said. "And the others are trying their hand at taming Hagrid's new pets, for extra credit in their Magical Creatures class."
"So they won't be back from the hospital for another week," Sirius said, obviously disappointed. "Oh, well. James! Peter! Remmie! Evelyn! Bella! PRESENT WRAPPING TIME!"
Almost instantly, Lily's friends bounded into the room, followed closely by the Marauders, with arm fulls of gifts, with a cloth draped over them, or some other way to conceal them.
"Now that we're all here," Sirius announced happily, "WRAP YOUR GIFTS!" He spread a large selection of scissors, tape, and wrapping paper in front of them.
"WAIT!" he suddenly cried out.
"What?" Lily asked exasperatingly.
"Nothing, I just always wanted to say that," Sirius grinned.
*~*~*~*~*
In the warm firelight, the group of Gryffindors chatted happily while wrapping up their Christmas presents for each other.
"Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" Sirius sang out.
"Sirius, you don't know the lyrics, and you can't even sing!" Lily complained, charming her wrapping paper to say "Merry Christmas" in four different languages.
"Oh, let's hear you sing, then!" Sirius shot back, failing miserably to wrap a gift without wrecking it completely.
"If you want," Lily shrugged. "But it's rather long-"
"Just sing!" Sirius snapped.
"Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we've no place to go,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
It doesn't show signs of stopping,
And I brought some corn for popping;
The lights are turned way down low,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
When we finally say good night,
How I'll hate going out in the storm;
But if you really hold me tight,
All the way home I'll be warm.
The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing,
But as long as you love me so.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."
"That was good," Sirius nodded.
Lily shrugged, "Glad you approve."
"Next you and Prongsie-boy can show us the waltz!" Sirius clapped.
James frowned. "I don't think so, Sirius."
Lily reached for another present and stripped off the invisibility charm on it, but covered it almost immediately in the wrapping paper. "Done with Black's," she said.
Sirius perked up. "Oooh! Is that mine? Lemme see, lemme see!"
"No," Lily said, placing it aside.
"Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?"
"No," Lily replied, starting to wrap another present.
"And a cherry?"
"No."
"Done with yours, Sirius," Remus announced, putting aside a box-shaped present, wrapped in red, with a dog wearing a collar of holly randomly shown all over it.
"Oooh! Is that mine? Lemme see, lemme see!"
*~*~*~*~*
Lily was rudely awakened the next day by her two friends shaking her.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Evelyn shouted.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty," Bella said, shaking her awake.
Groaning, Lily woke up. "It's six in the morning. Let me sleep."
"But you always wake up at six thirty!" Evelyn complained.
"Six thirty," Lily mumbled crossly. "That leaves me another half hour of sleep. Go away."
"It's Christmas Eve!" Evelyn pouted.
Yawning, Lily mumbled a dressing charm, appearing in her uniform.
"You're wearing your uniform on Christmas Eve?" Bella asked.
"Yes," Lily muttered.
*~*~*~*~*
In the Boys' Dormitories, James received a similar wake-up call.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Sirius shouted into his ear.
"No," James said, turning in his bed.
"It's Christmas Eve!" Peter said, bounding up to his bed.
"Wake up!" Sirius repeated.
"No. Go away. I need my sleep."
"You know, if you wake up, there's a chance they won't bother you as much," Remus said, also fully dressed.
"But-"
"Catch your beauty sleep later," Sirius said. "Today's CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"A bit louder, Sirius," James yawned, "I don't believe they heard you way down in Australia."
"Alrighty, then, TODAY'S CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Satisfied, he smiled. "I think they heard me."
*~*~*~*~*
"Good Morning, James," a voice said.
"Dad?" James asked, looking up from his breakfast.
"Yes," His father nodded. "So, I trust you prepared all you gifts?"
"Yeah- I mean, Yes, I did," he said.
"Good," Mr. Potter nodded. "Well, I'll be off to my room."
"Dad?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you be at the Christmas Ball tonight?"
"I'll think about it."
James sighed, knowing "I'll think about it," was his father's way of saying, "I'm too busy, no." Perhaps he was too disappointed to notice, but a few seats away, Lily Evans was watching, and looked as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind.
*~*~*~*~*
(A/N) What'd you think? Good, I hope. And this only took me… less than a week to get up! Yay! The next chapter will be up within a week. Well, review, review, review!