Deck His Halls
Part One – Not All Roses Have Thorns
Chapter One
Disclaimer: Lily, the brown-nosed student, and James in all of his glory, to Sirius the extra-charming, and Peter who is . . . SOMETHING THAT RHYMES WITH GLORY. Well, this is what I get for trying to re-work Christmas carols. I'll try again next year. Here's hoping I find all of J. K. Rowling's intellectual property in my stocking on Christmas morning!
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of a three-part story. Each part will have a vague, present-tense prelude (what you read before this), followed by a few chapters. I dreamt this up as a one-shot, though with the ending it has it simply can't stand alone. In short, yes, I am finally doing a seasonal fiction, and, yes, it's going to have multiple chapters. I don't know how many yet, but I have a basic idea of where I want it to go. That's a start, right? As always, make reviews, not war.
It lay on her pillow, spotlighted by the moon. Blood-colored petals contrasted brilliantly with the snow white of the pillow, highlighted by the aged color of a scrap of parchment. The great flower, weighted down by its lofty symbolism, dwarfed that unassuming note so that when it was lifted by its emerald stem the small explanation fluttered to the floor unnoticed.
"A rose!" Polly Akin—soon to be Patil—exclaimed breathlessly.
"A rose!" Ariel Thompson—soon to be Lovegood—arched an eyebrow.
"A rose?" Lily Evans—never to be Potter—sneered.
"Again?! Oh, that dratted boy. I've . . ." Jasmine Brown—soon to be married to anyone who would take her—paused, frowning. "Polly, I don't see any—"
"Not your rose, you fat-headed git," Ariel snapped, because Lily was too busy twirling the flower between her fingers. "Someone's left a rose on Lily's pillow."
"Don't be stupid," Jasmine waved a hand in the air. "Why would anyone want to go and do a thing like that for? . . . Say, Lily, where'd you get the flower?"
Polly giggled, Ariel groaned, and Lily exploded. "Potter . . ." she growled between her teeth. "Sneaking around in my room, touching my things, leaving a bloody . . . A bloody rose!"
"If you don't want it . . ." Jasmine offered.
Lily wasn't listening. "Why, I should—As though a flower could make me—Sneaking into the girl's dorm—He didn't even bother to remove the—Bloody hell!" she dropped the flower to the floor, stepped on it violently, and shoved her thumb into her mouth. "Reducto!" The rose was reduced to a pile of ash on the floor.
"Well I thought it was sweet," Polly sniffed, edging slightly from the enraged Lily. For a flower, she could be quite scary.
The parchment, buried under the rose's ashes, caught fire. Ariel stamped it out, crouching to read what she could, but only a single word was legible between the burnt corners. "Oy, Ethelred the Ever-Ready," she called. Lily paused in her ranting to glare at her best friend. "C'mere."
The red-head sighed and fell to her knees beside the other girl. "What?" she demanded moodily.
"Look at this." Lily parted the great curtain of straggly blonde hair that hung around Ariel and peered at the parchment. "Was this—Why that . . . That presumptuous toe rag!" Before Ariel could react, Lily had ripped the single word from between her fingers and stormed out of the dormitory. She could hear her footsteps echoing in the hall and the loud yelp from the boy's dormitory as their door was slammed open with a sound like a shot.
"Evening, Evans," Sirius Black looked up from his hand of cards with a handsomely surprised smile.
"Evans!" Peter Pettigrew greeted her warmly.
"Can we help you, Lily?" Remus Lupin's gray eyes glittered with amusement.
"Wath's goin' on?" James Potter emerged from the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, a blue plastic toothbrush in his mouth. He peered at the door beneath the wet mess of raven hair that hung in his eyes, before covering Peter—who sat nearest him—in toothpaste with the announcement, "I canth thee a bi' without me glatheth. Whoth athe door, Thirius?"
"Evans!" Peter repeated, looking about to wet himself for excitement.
"No, thnot. Donth thease me, Pethe," James scowled in the general direction of Sirius. "Whoth athe door?"
Lily used every ounce of her weight to stomp across the room towards the poor, blind boy. "POTTER, I DEMAND TO KNOW—"
"Oh, tho it ith you, Evanth," James grinned and cleared his mouth with a flick of his wand (before he tucked it back into the side of his towel, Lily couldn't help but notice). "How lovely. To what do we owe the honor?"
"Join us in a game of strip poker?" Sirius suggested cheerfully.
"'S not quite so fun playing without any birds," Remus agreed.
"POTTER!" Lily stamped forcefully.
"Already screaming his name," Sirius noted.
"Get a room," Remus suggested.
There was a loud 'thump' as Peter hit the floor.
"My lady love?" James returned. His words were lost in the shrieking of Wormtail's giggles.
"WHAT?" Lily demanded.
"HUH?" James asked. Though they stood only a foot apart, the wondrous dividing power of Wormtail Giggles made it impossible to hear anything at all, and without his glasses he couldn't even attempt lip-reading.
"WHAT?" With a soft, resigned sigh that nobody heard, James took what he hoped was Lily's wrist, dragged her over to his bunk, and closed the bedclothes around them. A wave of his wand left them in silence.
"Now," he said, focusing his blurry sight on the vague outline of Lily in the dark. "What were you saying, flower goddess?"
"I demand to know the meaning of this." She thrust the burnt parchment underneath his nose. He sniffed.
"Rubbish?"
"It's a note."
"Is it?"
"Yes, and you put it on my pillow."
"Did I?"
"With a rose!"
"How sublime! When did I become such the romantic?"
"Potter . . ."
"Evans . . ."
"Why would you do a thing like this?"
"Why don't you tell me, Little-Miss-Know-It-All?"
"Because you thought it would make me fall for you, and then you could parade me all around the school just so that people could see that you could do it."
James snorted. Lily growled. "Indeed?" he sounded amused.
"Indeed, Potter."
"And what, pray tell, was in said note?"
"Well . . ." Lily drew the parchment back to herself and peered at it through the gray light, as though expecting to see some meaning that had note already been revealed. "I don't . . . Exactly know."
"Come again?"
"I don't know, okay?! I burned the parchment, and the only word that's left is—"
"Yes?"
"Well, it's . . ."
"Yes?"
"It's 'love,' okay?!"
"You see? I knew you'd come around some day! Wait 'til I tell Sirius!" James reached blindly for the love of his life but got only a sharp smack on the head.
"Not between us! In the letter!"
"There's love in the letter?"
"Yes, that's the word."
"What word?"
"Love."
"Yes?"
"Not you, the word."
"What word?"
"Potter . . ." Lily growled, reaching to draw back the curtains.
"Okay, okay," James said, pushing her hand back. It was a very rare miracle that brought Lily into such close quarters, and in his bed, too! "So what do you want from me?"
She squinted at him distrustfully. "I want to know the meaning of this."
His expensive feather pillows sighed as he leaned back against them, his arms folded behind his head. "Obviously, someone is trying to convey their love for you."
"Someone?"
"Or something," James wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Hopefully, someone."
"But . . . not . . . you." For once, Lily seemed slow to grasp the point.
"Nope, not me," he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and pushed back the curtains. Peter had stopped laughing and the three boys had gone back to their cards. "Wish I'd thought of it, though. It hasn't worked, has it?"
"Of course not! Do you honestly think—" she was silenced by the look of absolute desperation, quickly replaced by one of quiet hope, and then masked by his usual self-confident smirk.
"Goodnight, Evans." Before she could protest he was taking her arm, leading her over to the doorway. "If you do happen to find your secret admirer, drop me an owl. I have a thing or two I'd like to discuss with him." His tall figure was looming over her, his Quidditch-broadened shoulders blocking her sight of the room. She walked backwards into the hallway.
"Potter . . ."
"Sleep well." The door was closed in her face, the wood brushing the tip of her freckled nose. She heard the lock click into place.
In a daze, Lily floated back to her dormitory. Three of her dorm mates were gossiping on Polly's bed. Ariel was asleep, the chipping varnish of her nails lightly brushing the carpet, her mouth hanging slightly open. "Sleep well," Lily murmured to her, climbing into bed without undressing.