Dessert was served just after eight – white chocolate and raspberry trifle - to a round of applause from the table. James was stuffed after six courses and only managed to finish about half of every plate put before him – though that was partially due to nerves.
"Pull her aside after dessert," Sirius whispered across the table, Peter stuck in the middle. "Just don't be a dick about it."
"I'm not a dick!"
"I think what he means is, you should try and be understanding—"
James rolled his eyes, convinced of his own rationality, and forked into the plate of trifle before him. He'd avoided Lily's eye, across the table, all night, too anxious to make any sort of contact. He had no clue what to say, whether to start by acknowledging his own fault in the situation or the pain it had caused him. Either way, the whole evening was a bloody disaster.
James gulped anxiously as people began to rise, knowing well what came next, his heart in his throat. Lily had her head turned, preoccupied talking to Remus, and James took the opportunity to rise unnoticed and round the table.
"Lily," he said, shocked by the emotionless tone of his own voice when he came up behind her. She looked up; her eyes rounded in shock. "Could I have a word?"
"Yes," she agreed, rising immediately. From the other end of the table, James caught his mother's eye. She watched him; head tilted with a curious look. James forced a smile and led the way out of the overcrowded dining room and into the main hall. The most private space seemed to be upstairs and so – for the first time – James led Lily up to his bedroom.
He hadn't cleaned, his clothes overflowing out of his trunk, bed left unmade. The thought did not so much as cross his mind until they stepped inside, the room an eyesore. James flicked his wand, making his bed in a flash, and sat on the edge of it, Lily choosing instead to stand.
"Should I start?" he asked after a few seconds of painful silence.
"Do you mind if I do?" Lily had begun to pace, averting James' gaze. Despite all of the anger which had built up in the past few days, James could feel his resolve soften just looking at her then, the panic in her face enough to make him give up his pride.
"Go ahead."
"I know that you must have been confused by my behaviour that night and I apologize for that, it wasn't at all how I wanted you to meet my family. The truth is, I should've never asked you to come to that dinner in the first place because it was a terrible idea from the start. My sister has a tendency to force me into situations in which she knows I'll inevitably disappoint her." Lily still wouldn't look at him, striding the length of his room as she talked.
"You see…the reason Petunia suggested we all go out for dinner was because I had found out that morning that our mother is ill." Lily's voice cracked on the final word, her back to James as she made the confession. "She and Petunia…they've been keeping it from me…so as.. not to run our final Christmas together." Now she was crying. James felt like he was going to be sick. All this time he'd been angry with her while Lily struggled to process her mother's terminal illness.
"Oh, Lil…" Her back was to James as she tried to catch her breath and wipe the tears from her eyes.
"I'm not telling you this so that you'll…fe-feel bad f-for me," Lily hiccupped. James couldn't bear it anymore. He went to her, regardless of the tension which had existed between them not even five minutes ago, and drew her trembling frame into his chest.
"I'm so sorry Lily." None of it seemed to matter anymore – James' pride nor his sense of indignity about his treatment that night – not when Lily was hurting. "I'm sorry for that night, for not doing better—"
"No," Lily insisted, "I should have never said those things to you …"
James bent down to kiss her forehead. Lily's tears calmed after a few moments, the two of them standing there, holding onto one another for dear life. James had never felt more ashamed. He'd allowed himself to truly believe the worst in the woman he loved and his relationship. It was foolish, especially when there had been a simple explanation for everything, one which had absolutely nothing to do with him.
"How is she?" James inquired, "your mum?"
"She's okay," Lily snuffled, the two finally coming apart. Lily took a tissue from the box on James' desk, blowing her nose. "Weaker than usual and she gets very sick sometimes but for right now it seems…okay," she sighed heavily, pausing for a moment before asking hesitantly, "are we okay?"
"I love you," James declared with unwavering devotion. "I'm sorry I've been such a prat."
Lily broke into a smile, despite the tears still clinging to her eyelashes. "I'm sorry too. For not making sure you know how much I believe in you." She fell into his arms once more. "And how much I need you," she added.
"I'm not going anywhere," James whispered into her hair, inhaling the sweet mix of vanilla and lavender – Lily's own personal fragrance. He'd missed that smell. He'd missed the way she fit just right in his arms and the little sighing noises she made when she was calm and content. James loved her more than he'd ever loved anything. He wanted so badly to protect her, to stop whatever sickness had taken over her mum's body and prevent any pain from coming to Lily. He'd risk his own life just to do that.
"I know that my family is complicated," Lily explained, James leading her back towards his bed. "I can understand – if being around them is too much for you."
"That isn't what I want." They sat down side by side. "I want to be a part of your life, your whole life."
Lily's green eyes glistened. "I'm just so scared."
"Of what?"
"Losing what we have here," Lily confessed. "I don't want to ever feel like this again."
"I know." James couldn't help but feel guilty. He was the one who had stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Lily behind. He could be a terrible hothead - he had been since his youth - but he could see in Lily's face how deeply his actions had hurt her. He'd abandoned his girlfriend when she needed him most, it was the worst thing he could have done.
"I'm going to work on it," James promised her, "getting so defensive."
"I'll do better at communicating," Lily agreed. She leaned forward, her face wet from all the tears, and pressed her lips to James. At first, the kiss was slow and longing and then full of their regular passion. James wanted nothing more than an hour alone to "reconnect" but it would not be allowed.
"Oi, Prongsie," came Sirius' voice from behind the bedroom door. "Your mum wants you back downstairs, socializing with guests."
"Fuck's sake," James cursed, rolling off of his very attractive girlfriend. "We'll be down in a minute!"
For a second they lay side by side, giggling, and then Lily sat up, red hair hanging down onto James' chest as she gazed down at him. "I love you," she said, the words still making his stomach flip.
"I love you too." They shared one last kiss before getting up to go, Sirius waiting for them on the landing.
"Made up I see?" he teased.
"Not a word," James grumbled at his friend, all three of them descending the narrow third-floor staircase in single file.
Downstairs, guests had flowed over into the sitting room, some lounging on furniture while others stood in small groups, chatting. Someone played the piano, a couple dancing beside it. Mimsy moved about the room, collecting garbage and empty glasses. By the fireplace stood James' parents, his mother's hawk-like eyes finding James the moment he entered the room. She waved them over, his hand finding Lily's beside him.
"There you two are," James' mum smiled cheerfully. "Lily, I'm so glad you've decided to join us." Caroline opened her arms, the two women embracing as James made anxious eye contact with his father.
"It's wonderful to see you again," Lily smiled politely.
"You've met Alec too of course?"
His dad extended his hand towards Lily. "Nice to see you again."
"I'm so happy that you and James are together," his mother began to enthuse, embarrassing James. "I mean we knew that he'd had a crush on you for ages but I never dreamt you would give him the time of day."
"Well," Lily's green eyes flickered towards James with amusement, "it did take some convincing."
"Oh please," he rolled his eyes.
"He's a softy at heart," she said, squeezing his hand. James looked down, so relieved to finally have her beside him again.
"I'm very lucky," Lily added.
"Oh, believe me, I'm the lucky one," James promised her and he vowed to himself to never forget it again.
"How're you feeling?" Henry checked in. He and Marlene stood before his family's tall, Victorian-style house. Marlene could see the windows, flush with light, signalling the presence of life within. Her stomach knotted but she smiled at Henry regardless.
"Fine," she lied. He pushed open the black metal gate, Marlene walking slowly up the stone path towards the veranda. Henry was right behind her, his hand resting on her lower back as they came up the steps, coming closer to the front door.
"You have nothing to worry about," he assured Marlene, facing her before they went inside. "I'll be by your side all night."
"That better be a promise."
"You have my word." Henry smiled, easing Marlene's nerves the slightest. With that, he pushed the door open, leading the way into the foyer.
Immediately, they were greeted by the smell of cooking turkey and the sound of someone playing Jingle Bells on the piano. Henry took Marlene's jacket, hanging it up on the coat rack in the corner when a lanky teenage girl with straight, silky, brown hair which ran nearly to her waist, came strutting down the hall.
"You weren't lying," she exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight of Marlene. "You really are dating her."
"You must be Joni," Marlene introduced herself, slightly unnerved to be spoken about as though not present. Joni's soft green eyes turned her way.
"We've crossed paths," Joni informed her, cheeks growing pink, "not that you'd have noticed me. I'm just a third-year Ravenclaw, but everyone is always talking about the parties the Marauders throw."
Marlene chuckled, glancing towards Henry who looked down at his feet sheepishly. Little did Joni know, while she'd been in the very same castle – unaware – her brother had been attending one of those very parties.
"Do you sing?" Joni asked abruptly.
"Not for crowds," Marlene shook her head, shy about sharing her voice.
"Oh, you have to! Just for us! We always gather around the piano for sing-alongs before Christmas dinner." Joni looked up towards her brother, "you have to convince her Henry."
"Marlene is too stubborn to be convinced of anything unwillingly."
"Glad you've realized that quickly," Marlene winked at him.
Joni led the way down the hall and to the right, into the large family room. It had one wall lined with bookcases, a grand piano against the other. Sitting behind it was a bald, grey-bearded man. He rose when they entered the room.
"Marlene," he said, stepping forward to shake her hand. "I'm Tom, Henry's father."
"Pleasure to meet you."
"These are my sister," He said, gesturing towards the two women sitting on the white, leather couch before the piano. "Shireen and Marilyn," Tom introduced them. both women waved at Marlene, their lips painted heavily with red lipstick.
"Well then Marlene, will you sing a song for us?" Henry's aunt Marilyn requested.
"You must!" Joni insisted once again, edging herself between her aunts on the couch.
Marlene looked at Henry. "Only if it's a duet," she said. His eyebrows rose at the challenge.
"Alright," he agreed, approaching the piano with confidence. Henry whispered something to his father who nodded and began to play a familiar tune. Marlene could feel the heat rising in her neck. It was Dream a Little Dream; she mentioned to Henry in passing once that she had sung this song in a choir as a little girl.
"Not very Christmasy," she whispered to him before they began singing.
"We'll do it like Ella and Louis," he assured her, Marlene certain they would not come close. Regardless of the quality of their singing, everyone seemed to enjoy the performance – Marlene included. It was difficult not to enjoy having a guy stare at you with awe in his eyes as you embarrassed yourself in front of his whole family.
"Bravo!" Shireen and Marilyn applauded from the couch. Joni stood up, grinning.
"You were wonderful!" she enthused. "Merlin, you have to teach me how to sing."
"Oh, trust me, I'm very average."
Marlene and Henry had just completed a dramatic bow when a woman emerged in the doorway. She wore a red and white striped apron, her short brown bob pinned back.
"Dinner is served," she announced, hands on her hips. "I'd like to say I could take credit for the work but truly, it was Albion."
"Mum," Henry stepped forward, Marlene just a few steps behind him. "This is Marlene."
Marlene smiled, swallowing back her nerves. Mothers were the most difficult first impression, she knew that much.
"It is so nice to have you with us," she smiled warmly. "I'm Jecca. You know Tom and me; we went to school with your parents."
"Did you?"
"I was a Ravenclaw and Tom a Gryffindor. He knew them better than I of course but your mother was the brightest witch in her year."
"I'll have to let her know you said so. Thank you for allowing me to join your dinner—"
"No worries at all deary," came Shireen's high pitched voice from the couch behind them. "Albion makes enough food to feed an army."
"Leftovers for days," Marilyn agreed.
"As you can see, you're more than welcome."
"Albion?" Marlene asked Henry as the rest of the family made their way into the hall.
"Our house-elf. He's been around since I was a kid and he served my grandfather before that." Henry's face darkened. "Granddad wasn't the greatest guy," he whispered. "Don't be alarmed if Al's a little skittish around you."
The dining room had a high beam ceiling and large windows covered with white drapes. The table was covered in a red tablecloth, candlesticks burning in the centre. Marlene had Henry on one side and Joni on the other - the latter filled with endless questions for her as they piled their plates with the food which appeared in the middle of the table when Jecca snapped her fingers.
The Fawleys were an old pureblood family – though not one that Marlene had interacted with growing up. Tom, Henry's father, worked at The Ministry in the Department of International Magical Co-operation. Jecca stayed at home with the kids and when they sent Joni off to school three years ago, she began volunteering her time at an orphanage in Diagon Alley for abandoned witches and wizards.
Marilyn and Shireen were interesting characters as well. They were twins and never strayed far from each other in life. They had spent their youth travelling the world, never spending too much time in any one place, curing disease and famine in the communities they visited. Now, in old age, they had come home to retire, their brother's home large enough to host them.
Somehow, without meaning to, Marlene seemed to fit seamlessly into the group. Joni, who knew much more about Marlene than she did her, asked many questions, ranging from the Gryffindor Quidditch team's prospect at winning the house cup to rumours she'd heard floating around about various Gryffindors.
Sitting at that table, Marlene forgot all about her nerves earlier, or the fact that she had so worried about making a good impression. Suddenly she was at ease, answering Joni's questions honestly, without hesitation, and below the table, Henry's hand squeezed her own reassuringly. He'd been right of course – everyone was more than happy to meet her. The only person who'd ever been in doubt of the match was Marlene herself.
It was impossible now – staring into Henry's warm brown eyes - not to be totally and completely committed to the whole thing. She could see it then, a lifetime of dinners. Christmas, Easter, Birthdays. The whole picture came together so easily, with such perfection, Marlene couldn't shake the feeling that there was no way it could last.
"Well, was that all as terrible as you thought it would be?" Henry asked later that night when he insisted upon taking Marlene home. Her house was dark – her family still at the Potters. They stood on the front step, only a few inches apart.
"No," Marlene shook her head, "they were lovely."
"They loved you," Henry said, kissing the tip of Marlene's nose. "Joni probably hasn't shut up about you since we left."
"She's sp sweet," Marlene smiled, lacing her fingers through Henry's, their hands clasped between them. "I'm sorry, for being so uncertain before…"
"You don't have to apologize to me for your feelings, not ever." Marlene was entirely unfamiliar with emotionally available men.
"Okay," she agreed, gaze transfixed upon the handsome man before her. "Can I see you again before I have to go back to school?" Marlene asked, releasing Henry's hands.
"Of course." He leaned in, her arms coming to loop around the back of his neck as they kissed. Marlene was falling for Henry, the fact was undeniable, and yet even in their most tender moment, she could not escape the nagging thought that such joy wasn't meant to last.
Remus stuck around at the Potters long enough to see that James and Lily had made up. They came downstairs and rejoined the party holding hands, both improved in spirit. Remus was happy to see his friends reunited, and rightfully so, but he couldn't escape the aching feeling he got in his chest looking at them.
"Thank Merlin that's over," Sirius sighed with relief, he, Peter and Remus watching from afar as James and Lily spoke to his parents.
"You did a good job there Padfoot," Remus commended his friend. "He might not have budged if you didn't force him." Sirius shrugged, never one to accept a compliment, and continued gazing across the room with a proud grin.
"I bet they'll be married within a year," Peter said, following Sirius' gaze. "I'd put a galleon on it."
"A galleon?" Sirius scoffed, looking down at Peter smugly, "I'm in. No chance Evans is that impulsive." The two shook hands on it, teasing each other about who would win, but Remus struggled to enjoy the moment. He missed his girlfriend. His ex-girlfriend. He wanted nothing more than to be with her now, enjoying the holidays, exchanging gifts, kissing beneath the mistletoe...
"I think I'll go," Remus announced suddenly, taking his friends by surprise.
"What? The evening is only getting started!" Peter was shocked.
"What about another drink?" Sirius suggested. "That might help lift your spirits."
"No," Remus shook his head. "I think I just need to be alone."
"You've been alone this whole break," Sirius complained.
"We've barely seen you!" Added Peter in a frantic tone.
"That's because I don't feel much like seeing anyone right now." The only person Remus would want to see wanted nothing to do with him. He was too miserable to spend time around his friends, all of whom had their own problems to deal with. No one needed Remus hanging around, bringing down the mood. Especially not during the holidays.
"She's not worth it mate," Sirius said, perhaps in an attempt to cheer Remus up. The comment only hardened him.
"To you," Remus snapped, "I love her."
He stomped off after that, neither Peter nor Sirius trying to chase after him, and left via the Potters back door so that he might apparate from the yard. It was cold out and Remus cursed himself for not bringing a coat – it seemed pointless if they were to take the Floo network to the Potters – now that he had decided to take a detour home.
Despite having insisted he wanted nothing but alone time, Remus instead apparated to visit the one person who might understand his misery. He hadn't seen Alice since coming home. Part of him wanted to give her the space she deserved after all he'd put her through and the other was too cowardly to dare approach. Now Remus felt so miserable there was nothing to lose.
He landed in the suburban neighbourhood where Alice lived, climbing the hill up to her small, two storey home. Remus was relieved to find the front light on, a sign of life within, and knocked without giving himself time to overthink his decision. Alice answered the door a moment later, rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed, filled with shock when she saw who stood on her front porch.
"Remus! She enthused as if the past two weeks were but a dream. "It's so lovely to see you!" he could tell when she threw her arms around him, that she'd had at least a few glasses of Firewhisky, the smell on her breath. When Remus stepped inside he realized that Alice was not in fact alone, Dorcas Meadowes leaning against the doorway to the sitting room.
"Nice to see you," she greeted Remus with a friendly smile.
"You too," he nodded, tucking his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his pants. "Sorry for intruding, I wanted to make sure you were okay," he explained, turning to face Alice.
"You aren't intruding," Dorcas insisted. "In fact, Alice here was just telling me how much she misses you." Alice's cheeks flushed. "You should join us."
"Please," Alice agreed, "I haven't seen you since we've been back."
"You haven't missed much," Remus assured her, "I'm afraid that I haven't been much fun to be around."
Alice's brow furrowed with confusion. "Did something else happen?" she inquired.
"I'll go fetch you a glass," Dorcas said, reading the room. She disappeared down the hall, leaving Alice and Remus alone in the entryway.
Remus hadn't realized how much he'd missed Alice's company until now. In the past few months, they'd formed a special bond and he had come to rely upon their friendship for comfort. Alice was one of the rare people who knew his secret and thought no less of him for it, she was dear to him.
"I told her," Remus confessed, "Leila, I told her the truth."
Alice's jaw dropped. "It didn't go well?" she assumed.
"No." It was painful simply recalling the event – the memory of Leila running from the broom closet in terror. Remus knew that she would never look at him the same.
"Oh, Remus." Alice threw her arms around his middle, squeezing tight. "I'm so sorry."
"At least now she knows it wasn't true," Remus sighed, "the rumours."
"None of that matters now. Come, you need a drink," Alice read his mind. She took Remus by the arm, guiding him into the sitting room where Dorcas waited. She already had three glasses filled, the half-finished bottle of Firewhisky resting on the coffee table before her.
"Remus here is in need of some cheering up," Alice announced as Remus settled on the end of the couch opposite Dorcas, Alice sitting in the middle between them.
"Lucky for you, I am very good at cheering people up."
"Really?" Remus smirked.
"Alice here is my personal testimony," Dorcas declared proudly. "Just two hours ago she was miserable!"
"True."
"And now she is having the best Christmas ever."
"Also, true."
Dorcas flashed her pearly teeth, grinning. "You see? You're in good hands."
"Thank merlin."
They'd only met once – during the rescue mission to save the girls. Then, Dorcas had felt almost mystical; four years his senior, an accomplished Auror, and on a first-name basis with Alastor Moody (quite an achievement in Remus' eyes). Now, Remus saw an equal when he looked at her – grinning at him from across the couch. She was uncommonly beautiful, her skin smooth and unblemished, her face perfectly structured – as if chiselled from marble.
"Cheers," Dorcas said, raising her glass.
"Happy Christmas," Remus added. It was the first time all night that he had thought of anything but his heartache and for the first time in weeks, Remus could feel the grips of happiness take hold.
