They have entirely different senses of humor. He likes to poke and prod - good, harmless fun. She has a dry, sarcastic way about her, and it makes him love her even more. Sure, it causes a lot of arguments, since he doesn't always pick up on her tone of voice, but who cares? It makes her her, and nothing, to him, is as beautiful as she is. Her laugh is hypnotizing; he can barely think when her eyes light up, and her lips turn upward, and the most brilliant noise escapes.

.oOo.

"James, who all is staying in your room?" his mum, Ginny, yells from the kitchen.

"The girls!" he yells back, sarcastically. He must be picking up on Dom.

"Whatever. I'll have your dad wave some extra beds in there!"

He's got a hidden stock of firewhiskey under the floorboards, and he's sure Albus will tell in the morning, but that doesn't matter. There's ten of them - Albus, Teddy, Lysander, Lorcan, Scorpius, Hugo, Fred, Louis, Frank, and himself - so the five bottles he's obtained over the years will surely hold up. The girls might come to join them, and Lily will be the head of the pack, surely. As her brother, he supposes he should care more, but he just doesn't tonight.

The family soon arrives, but for the first time the parents say they're going to the Leaky Cauldron and staying there - even Harry and Ginny. James is overjoyed; Albus and Rose are already fretting, but Alice Longbottom and Scorpius quickly shut them up.

"So… What should we do?" Roxanne asks. She's one of the more wild cousins, James has concluded; her pajamas consist of a tank top and skimpy shorts. Another look around the living room (that still looks like it did before the Battle of Hogwarts even happened), and he sees that all the girls are dressed in something of that nature.

"Strip truth or dare," Victoire suggests, and before anyone - namely Lucy - has any time to object, the rest of the cousins are sitting in a circle, completely ready.

"Dominique, ask first," James says once everyone has quieted down. They look at each other a little too long, but James ignores it so as not to get caught.

"Lily, truth or dare?"

"Truth," the green-eyed girl says suggestively.

"Have you… drunk?"

You can hear a groan from the crowd; who cares whether infamous Lily Luna has drunk before? What a boring question. But Lily goes under the floorboard, to James's surprise, and pulls out a bottle. She then takes a large swig.

"Yes."

Everyone laughs, except Albus, who has his hands in his face, appalled.

The game goes on, and sooner than later Lily, Dominique, Victoire, and Roxanne are in their bra and panties; Teddy, James, and Hugo are without shirts; Rose, Albus, Molly, and Lucy are still clothed. The other people at 12 Grimmauld place have left to go downstairs, much to the rest's dismay.

Rose says, "Gosh, I'm tired."

"Me, too," Albus yawns out, and with that, they're both gone as well.

The game dwindles into nothingness, and the girls and boys go into their respective rooms. Everyone's asleep, but James isn't.

She's standing in the kitchen, wearing his Quidditch tee - Potter in gold on the back - with whipped cream running down her face; the can is in her hand. She's got her blue eyes closed, and her blonde hair is in a… dogear? cathead? fishfin? braid that hits her mid back.

"All I want for Christmas is you-ou, baby!" she sings loudly, as though she's the only one in the little townhouse.

"I'm flattered, really." He steps out and grins at her shocked expression.

"I thought I was alone, James."

James shrugs. "Couldn't sleep."

"Me either."

There's a comfortable silence for a few moments, until Dominique breaks it.

"Molly asked why I was wearing your shirt and nothing else."

"And you said?"

"I forgot one, and this one was the first one on your mum's clean laundry stack."

"Nice save," James tell her, but she sighs.

"I'm not sure how much longer I can keep saving our arses." She yawns and sighs again.

James goes and engulfs her in a hug, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Her knees give way; he doesn't let her fall. She's asleep, it seems, so he picks her up and carries her to the sectional couch, throwing a Holyhead Harpies blanket over her figure. He stays there, stoking her hand, forgetting that if anyone upstairs saw, they'd be shellshocked. Or disgusted, but it's best not to think about that.

Finally, James grows tired and goes upstairs softly, because he can't let anyone catch him.