XXV. My Mistakes not so Mistaken?

You know when you want something to be absolutely perfect—and how you'll go by any possible means to make it so?

Yes, well all my hard work has gone down the drain.

It's past two o'clock and James isn't even here.

Everything is a mess.

My éclairs are beyond salvation.

The smell of burnt hair is plaguing my nostrils.

And Vernon Dursley is trying to kick me out of my sister's wedding.

What the hell?

From the beginning, everything was bound to deteriorate into absolute chaos as soon as I was left alone in the kitchen. Now, I know I'm not the world's baker, but with my mum's recipe (and some magic), I figured I would be able to manage.

Honestly! I'm not a failure when it comes to baking and cooking—I can fend for myself in the kitchen (despite what Petunia might say about my domestic skills—hey, using magic does count!).

The problem was my alarm didn't go off to begin with. I had planned to get up early to make sure everything went just right—well, that idea was shot, so I jumped in the shower, realizing I only had a few hours or so before James would show up. I should have realized then that things weren't going to go 'smoothly'.

You see, my mother had written "secret ingredient" on her recipe card under the list of different ingredients I needed. I frowned, wondering what on earth could be her secret ingredient. I called my aunt, but she said she hated baking and that it'd be best to wait until my mum came home.

Yeah. Thanks Aunt Linda for nothing.

Instead, I figured I'd add extra chocolate. That couldn't harm it—everything was better with chocolate. Content, I figured they'd turn out fabulously nonetheless. At this point I was still convinced it was going to go according to plan. That was, until someone knocked on the door while I attempted to properly whip something. Where was my stupid wand?

At first, I thought it was James and that he was early. I nearly fainted. Not really, but I had to remember how to breathe properly before I answered the door—he wasn't supposed to be here for another half an hour!

"Ja—er—Vernon?" I said in surprise, opening the door to none other than Petunia's fiancé, "You know Mum and Petunia are out…come back around five…they'll be back before dinner—which isn't until seven," I reminded.

He ignored me and entered into our living room. I never did like that boy. He was so rude.

"I know Petunia's not here…" he gave me a haughty look, "That's why I'm here."

I didn't know what to say, so I just continued to look at him quizzically.

"You know," he began slowly, taking off his hat. Merlin's beard, was he already balding? That had to be a receding hair line… "This wedding is very important to Petunia," he was saying, "And I wouldn't want anything to ruin it."

I nodded in agreement, unsure what he was doing. He really was wasting valuable minutes. Did he not realize I was on a time crunch?

"That's why I'm officially uninviting you," he announced, eyeing me beadily.

I blinked, "Er—what?" First of all, could he even do that? Secondly, could he have picked a more inconvenient time than Christmas Eve? I knew he was a git from the beginning. "I don't think you have the right to—"

"Petunia loathes you," he said cutting me off abruptly, "And I see no need to taint her day with your presence. Obviously, it would be better for everyone involved if you were just out of the picture."

I blinked, still trying to properly absorb what he was saying. He couldn't kick me out of my sister's wedding! "I don't think that's possible," I said slowly, "As I'm a bridesmaid—Petunia's already gotten me a hideous dress and everything!"

"You won't be missed," he said coldly, "Trust me," he was being more venomous then I believed possible. Finally, he leaned forward and said in a whisper (despite the fact that no one else was here), "I know what you are."

Oh please.

"Yeah? And? Listen, mister. You and Petunia aren't married yet. I'm going to her bleeding wedding unless she gets the nerve to uninvited me herself. Despite our disagreements, she is still my sister. You're…you're a toerag for trying to convince me to not attend my own sister's wedding!"

"A toerag," he sneered, "You're a freak," he shook his head, "Just like Petunia always says."

I had half the nerve to hex him…or maybe slap him. My wand was upstairs, but my fingers were itching for it terribly, "Listen, walrus boy," I said in a low voice, "You're right, I am a witch. Do you know how easy it would be for me to turn you into a toad? Or a rat?"

Okay, well this was false. As well all know, I'm horrible at human Transfiguration, but he doesn't need to know that. I could hex him until he was twisted like a pretzel though. Hmmm. Tempting.

Vernon Dursely turned a ghostly white at this. He seemed to have lost speech. He tried to stutter something before turning out back towards the door. He paused in the doorway and managed to yell, "You're still uninvited!...Freak!" before hurrying out as fast as his thick legs would carry him. Urgh. Pathetic.

Yet, I suddenly felt terribly sad. I sunk on the couch, feeling the tears prickling my eyes. After all, no matter how much Petunia and I fight, I always wanted to have that close, sisterly relationship that we'd once had. I know, that was over seven years ago now—nearly half my life. How could she not want me at her own wedding? The very thought seemed to send me over the edge, so I sat there in my misery for who knows how long until the grandfather clock rang. I sat up. I still had to get ready—and cook the éclairs! James could be here…well, now.

I threw the dough into the oven and grabbed my wand. I only thought I'd speed up the process a bit. I'd done this loads of times when cooking—I hadn't thought much about it. Then I dashed upstairs to fix my hair and add a touch of makeup. After all, I was going to try and practically seduce the boy into loving me again. I put on a cute sweater dress that was green—festive and accentuating my eyes, I thought as I curled my hair perfectly.

Glancing at my watch, I hurried downstairs—I was late, but at least he was late as well. That gave me a few more minutes to spare…The éclairs would be done by now and he was going to here any minute—I froze at the steps. Was something burning?

I dashed into the kitchen and couldn't help the scream I emitted. "Shit!" I yelled, "Shit, shit, shit!" I said, running around the kitchen. Flames were spurting from the oven as I tried to put it out with towels. I nearly cried when one of my curls caught on fire and I threw my head under the faucet.

Oh for the love of Godric! I was a witch, wasn't I? I picked up my wand and set out the fire, wanting to cry. I finally pulled out the éclairs which were now were burnt, charcoal rounds stuck to the baking sheet.

This had to be the worst surprise ever.

Now here I am, waiting, looking an absolute mess without any éclairs.

I sincerely think the fates are out to get me.

I could make a nice list of everything that went wrong—especially when it needed to be perfect. How was I supposed to make James fall in love with me when I looked like a complete train wreck? Maybe it doesn't even matter. He isn't here. He probably wasn't coming. I slunk against the counter. God this was depressing. I didn't even have the motivation to try and clean it up now.

"Lily?" I heard a voice coming from the living room, "Hello?" he called.

I still looked like a drowned rat and the smell of burnt hair continued to linger in the kitchen, "Wait!" I called desperately. Where did I put my wand? Maybe I could dry my hair—?

"Lily?" his voice was closer now—as in the kitchen closer. I turned around, my elbow hitting the bag of flower as I grabbed my wand.

I was just asking for disaster, wasn't I? I let out a shriek in surprise at the sight of him, and my wand sparked, sent the flour everywhere—not only on myself, but James as well, I realized, once I'd blinked it all from my eyes.

That's it. That's when I just started crying.

James was alarmed, "Er—Lily? Why…are you alright?" he asked, concerned, "It's just a bit of flour," he tried to assure me.

"I ruined it all!" I cried. I didn't care that I sounded like a blubbering idiot. It didn't matter anymore. Everything was ruined. This seemed to be the pattern of my life recently, mistake after mistake after mistake…

"Shh," he said, coming towards me and putting an arm around my shoulders, "Why are you wet?" he asked, looking very confused as he stared at me, then around at the disastrous kitchen.

I sniffed, "My hair set on fire."

He laughed and quickly stifled it at my expression, "Er—that's the smell, is it?" Great. That made me want to cry even more. He seemed to realize that his comment was insensitive because he coughed and asked, "Er—what happened in here…if you don't mind me asking."

I sagged against the counter and sighed, "It was part of your gift basket."

He looked even more confused, "Gift basket?"

"Yeah…I was trying to win you back with Quidditch tickets, sugar quills, weird Zonko stuff, and chocolate éclairs," I said miserably, "Oh and a book," I added.

"You got me Quidditch tickets?"

"Yeah…well, only one," I said dejectedly, "I have the other one, but I can't imagine you're going to want to sit next to me for an entire match now..."

"Why?" he asked, obviously bewildered. I stared up at him. Why was he so handsome? I wonder what he would do if I kissed him. He was still covered in flour…oh god…my thoughts fell back into misery.

"Why?" I asked incredulously, "Can you not see me right now? I just sprayed you with a sack of flour!"

He grinned, "You've done worse."

I stared. He had to be joking, "I'm wet, my hair is burnt, I'm covered in flour, I just set my kitchen on fire, and I have no éclairs to show for it!"

"Yes, well," he smiled that lopsided smile, "I don't happen to care much about the state of your kitchen. Besides, I'm covered in flour too, and I don't think that makes me unattractive…and you know I think you're beautiful," he tugged on the curl with the singed edges, "no matter what."

I nearly melted into him right there. Instead, I did the more unlady like thing. I threw myself on him. I think he was surprised, but he reacted quickly, kissing me back just as eagerly, pinning me against the kitchen counter. It was sort of odd because I could taste the flour, but I didn't care by this point. I'd never kissed anybody this way before—with so much passion and tongue. I moaned slightly against his mouth as we broke apart, and he chuckled deeply, kissing my neck lightly as I sighed in satisfaction. Then my hands were in his hair, pulling him closer to my mouth…

I don't know how much time had passed, but suddenly, my father's voice called out.

"Lily is something burning?" I heard him ask as he entered through the front door.

We managed to tear apart. I fixed my clothes, but my lips were swollen and my hair a disarray. Plus, I was still covered in flour…as was James. I swallowed. Oh hell, we weren't going to fool anyone—particularly my father. He was sharper than people gave him credit for (ahem, my mother).

"Dad," I managed meekly as he stared at the pair of us.

He blinked.

"James Potter, nice to meet you, Mr. Evans," he said politely.

"Er—hello," he managed, glancing around the kitchen, "Lord, Lily, what happened here?"

"I had a few…issues," I admitted, "Baking…you know," I shrugged, feeling my cheeks pinken as I became embarrassed again.

He nodded, looking around carefully, "Well, I'd better get started on getting this cleaned up. You're mother will have a cow if she's what you've done to her kitchen on Christmas Eve," he sniffed, "Did you burn your hair?"

Urgh.

"Here," I said, cleaning it with a simple 'Scourgify'.

I know, I know, why didn't I do that earlier? Because I'm complete and total wreck, that's why.

But I don't care because I just had the most wonderful snogging session with one Mr. James Harold Potter.

"Well," my father looked at a loss for words, "What have you two been up to?" he asked finally with an accusatory look.

"Just a…er…Christmas gift exchange," I said quickly.

"It's Christmas Eve, Lily. We have company coming," my father said sternly. I frowned. He was just being moody because he guessed what I'd been up to. I sighed.

"Just give us a moment, Dad."

He gave a terse nod, "I'll be just in the next room," he said warningly.

I rolled my eyes, "You'll have to excuse him, he's usually much more...agreeable. He was just surprised…"

"He's not the only one," James grinned at me. His hair—which was always crazy—was even more out of place. His hazel eyes were twinkling at me, "You know, I'd made this whole speech—it was all about why we should be together…and how you need to quit acting all crazy. Now I can't even remember it," he smirked slightly.

"Really?" I asked, unable to hide my grin. He nodded, and I felt like kissing him all over again, "I thought you were still angry with me."

"I probably should be," he admitted, "You drive me crazy, Lils."

I knew that much was true, so I said nothing, I just smiled up at him, hoping I looked somewhat innocent.

"Well, I have something for you as well," he said, handing her a small package, "You can't open it until tomorrow though," he said sternly, "Now. I'm going to go…I think your father's listening at the doorway," he added with a whisper. I giggled, holding the package close.

"Thank you," I said quietly, staring at his lips. He gave me a sly grin before giving me one, slow kiss. I closed my eyes, trying to savor that single moment.

"Happy Christmas, Lily Evans."

"Happy Christmas," I echoed back. I opened my eyes—he was gone.

A/N: I know, it's been forever! Life has been crazy, but I should be back with much quicker updates. That is the plan! Summer gives me much more free time to write. Haha. :) R/R.