Hey, this chapter is dedicated to Alicia because we've been working so hard on our joint account recently and it's been so fun to talk more! I love you wayyy too much!!! ♥️♥️♥️
WiseRavenclaw07

(November 30th 1976)

It wasn't that Lily was nosy –she wasn't. It was more the fact that when one can see something interesting out the window it's natural protocol to spy on proceedings and figure out what's going on.

That was all this was. She wasn't nosy.

The painfully soulless gathering of detached houses that Lily lived in had the wonderful advantage of a good view of the town, and despite her opinions on its pedestrian-ness, it didn't take a genius to work out that Cokeworth could be pretty in certain lights, and this view was one of them. She could see beyond the road and over to the public park, even yonder it was clear to see the big estate house at the bottom of the hill.

It was the estate house that caught her attention that particular day. Or more so the small army of people walking in and out like the four doors were some kind of membrane. At first glance it looked like there were people moving in, but no removal van was in sight. The boxes seemed to come from no where.

The estate house had always been an image of speciation for Lily, ever since she was small the house had always remained firmly blocked off. Cobwebs leaking from every pore and poorly painted fences round the outside, keeping the ivy at bay. Lily had always thought that, with enough, care the place could be quite charming but nobody ever seemed to bother with it. However today it was a different story: today the place reeked with life; Lily assumed there must have been at least ten people hurrying in and out of the grand doors. (They were grand now, they hadn't been before). In truth it was a miracle that tackling all that ivy had only been a ten man job. The place looked presentable now (if only a little ominous).

"Lily!"

Her mother's airy call drifted to her ears and she leapt up from the windowsill-seat and thundered down the stairs– Lily's mother seldom called unless she needed something, that was just her way.

"Lily, darling where are you?"

"I'm here," she crept into the living room to find her mother on the sofa, staring out the window with a spacey look in the cyan of her eyes. Lily was positive the faint aroma of gin was circling the room (but in all fairness it never really did go away).

"I need... I need you to come and sit here, Lily. Please?" Her mother snatched her eyes away from the window to gaze at her daughter and the look on her pale complexion gave the impression that the very sight of her youngest daughter caused her pain.

She nodded and slipped into the space next to her mother, resting her head on her shoulder and letting her eyes lull closed as she stroked her hair benignly.
"They're fixing up the old estate house, you know?" Lily mumbled, not really minding that her frivolous attempts at a conversation were falling on deaf ears. Sometimes her mother got in this sort of mood; all she wanted was to hold Lily and stroke her hair. She didn't care much for conversation, they never really had much to talk about anyway but just knowing Lily was there seemed to be enough.

Faith Evans –as far as her youngest daughter seemed concerned– was ironically named. The only thing she seemed not to have was faith; ever since Lily got her Hogwarts letter Faith Evans seemed to disintegrate into a loose string of sentences and gin smelling hugs.

Faith had never been a particularly bad mother, although she often considered herself one. She seemed to be paying constant penance for ill-invented crimes and so Lily had learnt to give in to her mothers culpability and just allowed herself to be looked after. Faith Evans was far from Solomonic but she considered herself almost demonic in comparison to her daughters. 

"You're wonderful, Lil, you know that?" Her mother mumbled as she ran her hand up and down her youngest daughters back.

She hummed, too calm to argue the point. Moments like these were when Lily loved her mother most; when she could just lie under her arm and pretend she was six years old again. She was happiest here.

"Your sister doesn't understand how wonderful you are, but I know. And that's what's important, isn't it?"
Faith Evans didn't expect an answer, just her daughter's company was more than she dared ask for.
"I saw the house. I heard them working on it last night, they've done a good job."

They had.

♥ ♥ ♥

(December 1st 1976)

Dorcas was useless at History.

She always had been and this particular homework assignment was no different. She had been sitting at her desk for god knows how long just staring at the question sheet and a blank page, just trying to will it's demise or incineration with the power of a smouldering gaze alone.

Lily had always helped her with history queeries, but she hadn't spoken to Lily in almost a week. They had always been petty and stubborn when they fought. Neither quite willing to take the high road and just apologise– even if they were both wrong.
She could tell it was effecting Alice too, but she had always been too polite to say anything against her two hot-headed friends.

"Fuck you," she muttered to her notepad (still blank). This was getting out of hand.
It wasn't that Dorcas wasn't clever enough on her own– she was perfectly erudite; it was merely the matter of her strong subjects. Dorcas preferred straight answers and fixed questions, she felt comfortable in the security of knowing she was one-hundred-percent correct, whether as Lily's creative flare gave her the ostentatious knowledge of all subjects with answers prone to debate– history for example.

Lily had always helped her with the latter and Dorcas had guided Lily in the former, but now? Now, Lily hadn't talked to her in almost a week. They had avoided each other at school, even in classes they had together Lily managed to swerve her with a cold stare and a acquiesced shake of the head.

Dorcas either charmed or cursed everything she touched. One either loved her or hated her. She knew this, of course, but she had never considered what might happen if she cursed Lily. Her best friend, and the only one thing that had never fallen victim to her malediction.

The phone was ringing. She jumped up suddenly and made to answer it. There was a chance it was Lily, but of course her mother got there first.

"Hello?"
Her mother– Habiba Meadowes, answered the call with a formally kind voice, reserved only for addressing the public– she much preferred the formal approach when it came to her daughter. Habiba Meadowes didn't have a husband, nor any sort of partner and so she had learnt to be Dorcas' mother, father and her best friend simultaneously, a difficult job one may say, but Habiba didn't mind, she preferred it that way.

"Dorcas! It's for you!"

Dorcas skidded out her room hotfoot and jogged over to her mother, and the phone, holding her hand out for the receiver.
"Thank you, mama," she beamed.
She untangled the cord from them both before putting it up to her ear, by that time Miss Meadowes was meandering back around the house, staying close by just in case she saw fit to chastise her daughter for 'wasting the bloody electricity!'

"Hello?"

"Dorcas! Are you alright you sound a bit miffed?"

It was Alice's voice at the other end of the line: not Lily.

"Oh no, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Some old. Anyway I was phoning to ask you if you'd make peace with Lily? The cafe in town- Indulge said they would like to display a set of our portraits for Christmas decor and you're a wonderful model, dear. It would mean the world to both of us?"

Dorcas sighed. She knew this would happen.
Alice always found one excuse or another to resolve conflict, she was obsessed with a pathological need for borderline dominating positivity– to the point where Dorcas wasn't even sure her mechanical conflict resolution could be considered positive.

"I'll try. But I'm not promising anything, okay? Meadowes don't apologise, you know that!"

"I do. And that's why I'm asking you, because Evans don't either and I thought you'd be more up for a challenge."

Dorcas frowned, jaundiced, "you don't think I was wrong do you?"

"Of course I do! You were a cow— but so was she and that's why I need you to do this? Please?"

Brushing off the hurtful jibe, Dorcas let out a prolonged sigh, "right. But I want it to be known that this whole 'apologising' thing was not my idea, okay?"

She could hear Alice chuckle through the receiver, it was almost too easy to picture the way she always shook her head in disbelief, "alright then, lovely. I'll let you go now, alright?"

Dorcas smiled, "alright."

"I love you?"

"Love you too, Al."

(December 5th 1976)

Marlene McKinnon loved Christmas. Always had and always will. The perpetual twinkling of lights, the sparkle of Christmas baubles and the crackling of the fire had contributed over the years to her favourite holiday season.
Only recently, however, had she discovered a new motivation for loving Christmas and that came in the form of the undeniable romance in the air. In previous years she had never paid much attention to this fact but now, with a new perspective in mind, it was hard to ignore the clear enamour that coated Hogwarts.

"You're looking spiffing today, my love!" Sirius Black interrupted her thoughts in a very Sirius way: sexually.
"It's a shame you've got a girlfriend because this holiday season has got me feeling quite lonesome!"

She let her eyes find the ceiling. "A shame indeed. Now, may I ask you what's brought you to the library? Don't you have a reputation to maintain?"

Sirius chuckled, pulling a chair round from the neighbouring table and straddling it.
"Don't you?"

"This is more important." She replied simply.
He sent her an insinuating look which she flagrantly blanked.
"I'm writing a letter."

"To?"

"You know who."

Sirius let out an almighty splutter, just about bowling himself over on the chair, "bold choice of pen pal, Marlene!"

Without breaking eye contact with her parchment her hand shot up and slapped his face.
"That wasn't funny."

He looked offended, "I found it mildly amusing!"

"You would, wouldn't you? You're sense of humour couldn't rival Professor Binns, Padfoot."

"Harsh."

She didn't reply, her lips taught in annoyance. Sirius took his as a queue to change the subject instead of its actual intended manor of 'leave me alone.'

"What are you writing anyhow?"

She didn't reply, too busy actually writing (which she had made abundantly clear by the simmering glare she was giving the parchment as she scribbled vigorously.)

He shuffled closer and peered over her shoulder.
"A letter."

"We established that."

He watched her write for a minute in sweet silence. Marlene savoured the rare moment in which Sirius didn't seem to need words.

"It's for your girlfriend."

It wasn't a question but she answered anyway: "yes it is."

"You're girlfriend which we still haven't met!"

Marlene was feeling less than impressed with her (pain in the arse) friend in that moment.
"The very same."

"Is she cute?"

"Very cute."

Satisfied, Sirius kept quiet for a grand total of forty-three seconds before announcing his unfortunate departure.

"Thank Merlin!"

"Again, harsh!"

"Are you leaving or not?"

He scoffed, ruffling her blonde hair and in one swift motion he was up and skipping out the door, pulling a contraption out his pocket that Marlene knew better than to acquire over.

The letter, which –at long last– she had finished, was to be posted tomorrow to the post office in Hogsmeade and forwarded to Dorcas' muggle home in Cokeworth; it read...

Dorcas,

How are you? I've missed you these past months! The romance of our school decorations have been leaving me painfully lonesome but it's still my favourite holiday! James (my mental mate I was telling you about) was caught under mistletoe with Aliona Colloney- my roommate. It was hilarious, you know one of those things you'd have had to have been there to understand. (I think it's important to note that Aliona and James took each other virginity in a hilariously unplanned rendezvous after a particularly eventful celebration of winning the sports cup!)

Anyway, asides from that I have one more unfortunate bit of information to share with you, Dork. I regret to inform you that over the holiday I can only grace you with my lovely presence for two days before I'm off to Paris with my best friend, Esme-Leigh. I've told you, you should meet her, you'd get along smashingly! Aside from anything else she's half French and half Bristolian so her accent is wonderfully temperamental to say the least!
Her family and mine are spending Christmas together in Mrs Bisset's old Parisian house, I've been there once before and i must say it's probably even more cruelly romantic than my school right now but it's worth it!

That's enough of me, has anything interesting happened to you? If so spare no detail! I want to hear it all! You know I'm a sucker for gossip!

And with that I've decided I've bored myself half to death so I'll love you and leave you now, Dork!

My love forever,
Marlene McKinnon
(your gorgeous girlfriend)

♣ ♣ ♣

(December 9th 1976)

James often ran in the morning. Even the December cold couldn't stop him from getting up before the dusk arose.

It wasn't just the health benefits that excited the quidditch captain, however, the tranquil of the grounds often was enough to drag him out of bed in the early hours.

He stood at the top of the black lake (an ominously yet majestically sparkling span of water that, with the bundle of trees in the middle, almost looked as if it could be a titanically sized puddle– although James preferred not to ponder what sort of a storm would conjure a puddle of that size).

From where he stood it was easy to hear the cadence lapping of the waves, sending a mellifluous calming through the grounds. In his opinion the morning was the best time to enjoy the castle's outdoors.

He jogged around the lake once, by the time he was back safely in the dormitory his roommates had risen.

"Oh Prongs, deer fellow, you're back!" Sirius jumped up from the stool he was perched on, fixing a red and gold tie around his neck.

James resisted a smirk, "hear all the heroes, Padfoot, we know all about it! Now I'm taking a shower, unless anyone has any objections?"

Remus wandered up to him, as he got closer he scrunched up his nose and coughed, "absolutely none, James my boy! Absolutely none!"

"Charming."

Breakfast (which they arrived late for) was usually a playful and generally uplifting affair. It tended to consist of fairly ingenious pranks and mild tomfoolery; however as the marauders entered the hall an eerie quiet was cast across all four tables, setting an ambiance that made one want nothing more than to flee the scene as they found it.

Remus slid in a seat next to James and Esme-Leigh, he noticed she was holding a newspaper, her cherry-pink lips twisted in a horrified expression. He leant over her to catch a glimpse of the headline.

TWO MORE MUGGLEBORNS TAKEN IN SUSPECTED SNATCHER ATTACK

His stomach hit the floor and his internal organs seemed to dissolve into a puddle of sludge.

There was a spare paper a few seats along from him which he grabbed without so much as a 'do-you-mind?' and flipped it to the front page.

TWO MORE MUGGLEBORNS TAKEN IN SUSPECTED SNATCHER ATTACK

Last night at approximately four after midnight two more Muggle children were reported missing from their homes in the outskirts of Kent.
The children (twelve and fifteen) were last seen by their father when he put them to bed earlier that night.

Aurors summoned to the scene declared it a Snatcher attack in the wee hours of this morning; the Snatchers were unseen but upon further investigation, traces of there appearance were left at the scene.
It is unknown at this time if both children were magical but the Snatcher's Taskforce is treating them as such.

We asked Head Auror on the case and leader of the Taskforce, Fleamont Potter, for comment, he told us this:

"Our aurors were alerted to the case by one of our Muggle liaisons in the Police Department and it was immediately clear that this kidnapping was magical. There were traces of magic on the doorknobs and traces of suspected sleeping draft left behind also. We are currently working very closely with the rest of the auror department at this time as the first twenty four hours after a incident like this is always vital."

When asked whether Mr Potter suspected they would find the Snatchers involved he declined comment.

Immediately after finishing the article he knew exactly how the next sixty seconds would pan out. And Remus Lupin was rarely wrong.

It started with James reading the last sentence of the article which he had stolen off Peter. It ended with him storming off and (not so politely) asking not to be followed. Of course he was: Sirius chased him almost immediately out the Great Hall and into the cold December air. It had begun to snow...

"Prongs! For the love of all things holy will you stop walking!"

He stopped.

"I distinctly recall asking not to be followed."

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "And I distinctly remember interpreting that as code for 'I need attention'. So I followed you: voilà!"

James didn't reply. He turned his back to his friend and faced Hagrid's Hut instead.
Confronted with the embarrassment of tutoring his best mate, Sirius found it was quite convenient that way.
"Listen, Prongs, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it he's probably—"

"He's my dad, Sirius! Our dad! Aren't you angry he told The Daily -bloody- Prophet before us? I mean– what if the Snatcher was still there? Sirius, what if he'd died and we'd have to find out from an article in the fucking newspaper?!" He had reached the point of ironic hilarity by now and had taken mockery as a means of turning to face him. "That would be an interesting read, right? Breaking news: Fleamont Potter's dead. Anyway, here's a horoscope to flick through!"

The bitterness in his tone cut through Sirius in a way he wasn't quite sure he was ready to handle. And so he opted for stone cold, dumbfounded silence while James proceeded to hurl his father with both barrels.

"I mean, why would he tell us anyway? It's not like mum owled us yesterday, is it?" He split 'yesterday' into syllables for dramatic effect (Sirius presumed).

"Mate, you're reading too far into this."

"Am I? I mean Dads the one actually in charge in the Snatcher Taskforce and yet we hear about most of these things from Mum! Tell me why that makes any sense? He's shielding us, that's what he's doing! And I'll tell you something:" (Sirius wasn't sure he wanted to hear this something.) "he's not very good at it if he sends us to Hogwarts. This place is gossip palace! Remember last week when I was caught with Aliona under the mistletoe? People were convinced we were dating for a week and a half?!"

Sirius chuckled, "Connolly was ready sob by the end of it!"

"Yeah, she was, eh? Sometimes I wonder why people are so interested."

Sirius shrugged, smirking evilly, "probably because they know I'm not an option so they got for second best."

"Shut up, I'm way hotter than you!" James retorted, allowing the tension in his shoulders to wear, slightly.

"Bullshit."

"Bite me."

"Thought you were straight?"

"Har -bloody- har!"

It's funny what a decent joke can do to an atmosphere. Just a chuckle or a snort can punch a sizeable hole in the thick awkwardness they were festering in.

Padfoot shook his head, glancing at the clock tower above them.
"We're late for potions."

"Skip?"

"Did you have to ask?"

James shrugged, "wanted to make sure you weren't a pansy about a bit of snow."

"It's not my preferred term for it but of course I'm a pansy!"

James spluttered, clutching his sides as they split open, "that's not what I meant."

"I know. Fag?"

"Naturally."

♣ ♣ ♣

(December 10th 1976)

The letter from his mother sat on the desk, open and waiting for a reply. James decided that the half hour before quidditch practice would be as good a time as any.
His peacock feathered quill was already sitting upright in a bottle of black ink when he sat down, re-reading the letter once more before crafting his reply.

Dearest James,

How are you getting along? Hows the MPP (more importantly). I received a lovely letter from Professor McGonogall earlier this week concerning you and Sirius which I shall address at a later date, but for now I should like to ask you a favour...

The retirement home is coming along lovely, but we'd appreciate if you two came home to help move your own stuff over, I don't want to be the one held responsible for the hiatus of an LP or quidditch poster! And before you ask, yes, I know neither me nor dad are retired yet but you know what is like when you're my age. If I pretend I'm retired then one day it might come true!

I'll see you in a week or so, darling, and be sure to invite the boys over anytime they'd like!
Love you to the moon and back,
Your doting mother

James grinned to himself, picking up his quill he penned a response, only to be interrupted by Peter Pettigrew, his freckled face looking worried.

"What's up, Wormy?"

"Esme-Leigh says you're late and she's about to flip her lid."

James looked up, his face dropping– Esme-Leigh Bisset angry is not a sight one wishes to witness before consuming food or playing sports.

"Tell her I'm coming!" He leaped over the chair in a rather reckless manner that one could only expect from James Potter as he ripped down the stairs –most likely breaking the speed of sound– to reach her.
"Ez! I was writing a letter, my bad!" He held up a hand in defence to potential attack while the other clutched his side.

Esme-Leigh smirked, "well you're lucky I took the curtesy of checking out your broom from the cupboard, aren't you?" She tossed it to him in such a careless manner that if he wasn't so grateful he'd just dodged a castration he would have chastised her for.

"You're a gem, Esme, you really are!"

"C'est vrai!" She winked and took off out the portrait hole, brushing off the stares she received in her crimson quidditch robes...

Two and a half hours later the team came crawling back inside, brushing off the snow that had attacked them like little glass daggers for the duration of their session. James, Marlene, Sirius and Esme-Leigh found a space next to Remus and Peter to observe their intense game of chess. Esme had already begun brushing the snow out of Marlene's blonde beech waves as she braided it to perfection.

"We should have a party."

Sirius' ears perked.
"What?"

"I'm saying we should have a party." Marlene repeated, it was a statement more than it was a question but her open tone allowed room for debate.

"A Christmas party?"

Marlene nodded (receiving a slap from Esme-Leigh whom was still hell bent on braiding her friend's hair faultlessly).
"Just before the holiday, just so we don't miss out on a Hogwarts Christmas. We're all going home this year and who knows what it'll be like in seventh year?! I just think we shouldn't waste the penultimate year of Hogwarts braiding each other's hair and playing chess when you could be getting piss drunk!"

Remus nodded, not breaking eye contact with the chess board, "the lady makes a fine point."

"She does," Peter agreed, equally as engrossed in the ceramic pieces scattered along the board.
"Pawn to D4."

"So last day of term? In the old transfig class?" (The Old Transfig class was somehow always soundproof and extremely difficult to locate unless one knew exactly what they were looking for, and so it had become the signature hosting place for parties).

James nodded, "I'll spread the word, shall I?"

"I see no objection."

Remus smirked, "queen to B7. Checkmate."

(December 14th 1976)

Apologies were something that Dorcas had always been much too egotistical to admit were necessary. Even on the rare occasion she felt the slightest need to apologise she still didn't.

But now here she was. Backed into a wall and forced to apologise for a cause she hardly even considered equitable. The fact that Alice was right was irrelevant to Dorcas and so she much preferred rolling her eyes whenever the topic of apologies arose in conversation.

It wasn't like she hadn't tried. She had. It was more so the fact that Lily didn't wish to be apologised to. She had sacrificed her dignity twice that day, chasing after Lily out the classrooms; she even scurried out of the biology lab after her:

"Lily!"

Nothing.

She shouldn't have been surprised to find her stalking away with a scowl plastered on her face. They had both been wrong, but somehow Lily was always more stubborn than herself...

"No joy?" A voice behind her muttered sympathetically.

"She's ignoring me, Frank."

Frank Longbottom nodded solemnly, "she'll come round. Even if it's for Alice's sake."

Dorcas nodded, "listen are you and Alice doing anything this lunchtime?"

Frank had always been painfully good natured and so that was why he went so red, guilt, she noticed.
"Me and Alice... we said we'd meet Lily for lunch."

"Right. Well, can you tell her I'm looking for her?"

Frank nodded, patting her on the back and disappearing.

♥ ♥ ♥

(December 14th 1976)

Lily sat on her window ledge, watching the first of this years snow settle on the pavement, it was later than usual but she adored it all the same.

Christmas had always agreed with her, and so she quite enjoyed her own company, alone with the snow.
The smell of cinnamon, mandarin and clove filled the air as the winter festival in town was put in order. If Dorcas hadn't upset her so she might have dragged her there for Christmas Eve. But as of right now, Lily was choosing to be hostile towards her best friend.

One learned quite early on that Lily Evans did not do apologies. Even at six years old she'd somehow find a way to make it her fault that she'd stolen the Christmas cookies (you've not fed me enough today, what do you expect me to do?!).
It was a habit that she hadn't seemed to grow out of along with bow hair clips and sparkly trainers.

Of course she knew when it was right to apologise but that didn't stop her from adopting the moral high ground when it wasn't really hers to take until the other party apologised. She knew this method was hopeless against someone as morally strong as Dorcas Meadowes.

She cursed herself. Even the moral high ground wouldn't let her get away from her respect of Dorcas. Lily's friends really were the cynosure of her life, and Dorcas was her best. The only person that she could call at anytime of night and summon her to the door with a warm hug, a sweet treat and a new LP.

Christmas was a time for friendship, and yet she had never felt so alone...

Alice called later in the day, demanding she accept the apology that Dorcas was supposedly meant to offer her and Lily promised to be civil, telling herself it was for the photography project and the photography project alone that she had made this promise to fraternise with Dorcas.

They needed a model.

She reassured herself, rather unsuccessfully. And so when the day rolled around they met at the top of Lily's hill. (They gave it this name because it could be found by the back of the cul-de-sac she lived in and for the fact she would come up here when she was little. Feeling upset about one thing or another.)

"Tilt your head."

It was the first thing that Lily had said to Dorcas in just over a week and yet it felt like months.

"Good."

Just behind Dorcas was the hazy horizon of Derby. Fields and towns beyond glimmered with Christmas lights and twinkled with magic.

Her charcoal black hair was flattened by a pom-pom hat and yet it still flounced out in corkscrew curls, creating the opportunity to catch the array of lights between her ringlets.

Alice stood next to Lily as they snapped relentlessly. They had each brought a small mountain of film 'just in case' and so they enjoyed the privilege of the abandon of 'Shoot With Intention'.

"Could you face the other way, darling?" Alice asked, walking up to Dorcas and swivelling her on the log she was perched, positioning her round the face the rather magical landscape.

They stayed silent for at least another fifteen minutes, long after the little light they had left was gone. Silhouette shots often did well at Christmas and so they took advantage of the absence of complaining from Dorcas over the cold to stay out longer. Once they had fully milked every last drop of inspiration from the setting Lily called it a day.

As they began to pack up Dorcas stood, brushing the snowflakes off her jeans and made her way over to Lily, giving Alice a meaningful look on her way.

"Lily listen—"

"I've not forgiven you."

Her face dropped, "oh?"

"No I haven't," Lily sighed, wishing she could be anywhere but here.
"I haven't but I would like you to forgive me."

This was the absolute last thing Dorcas had expected, Lily Evans was famous for her hot head and yet here she was, listening to an apology. If it wasn't Christmas, Dorcas might have been seriously concerned.

"I was out of order the other day and I apologise. I shouldn't let my failing friendships allow my good ones to fail. It just hit a nerve when you said all of those things about Severus." Lily was avoiding Dorcas' eyes. Whether it was out of shame or her own upset it was hard for Dorcas to tell.
"But I think you should know that even if I am sorry I'm still not going to forgive you yet."
Dorcas, tried to catch her eye but Lily seemed he'll bent on getting all of this out without interruption.
"I will," she was quick to reassure, "one day. It's Christmas after all, but just not yet. Poxy apologies don't really cut much for me. That's why I've prepared this whole speech because if I'm going to set my pride aside to apologise I'm going to do it right. So I'm sorry Dorcas, that's all."

♥ ♥ ♥

(December 14th 1976)

Lily finished re-reading one of her favourite comfort novels that night when she returned home; a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a blanket round her shoulders.

She had done what she'd set out to do, hadn't she? And yet why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel like she'd much rather be walking round the Cokeworth Winter Wonderland with her and Alice, linked arms and mittens to beat the cold? Why did she feel like she'd rather be anywhere with Dorcas, rather than alone with Emily Brontë?

Alice was right. She always was.

Whatever poxy apology Dorcas had to offer Lily would listen...

Setting Wuthrring Heights aside, Lily got up to put her cup in the sink, passing through the living room where her sister, mother and father were watching Its A Wonderful Life in it's original black and white.

Oh sweet irony.

Placing the cup back after washing it she stood against the door for a moment, watching how happy her family looked. Even Petunia had a tear in her eye as it go to the scene where George accepted the flower from Zuzu.

Lily's father glanced over at her, he caught her eye and smiled, jerking his head to motion she should join them. She smiled when she saw him shifting up on the couch, lifting the blanket he and her mother were safely under.

The space she clambered into was already warm and when she felt the succouring embrace of her father it was difficult to imagine ever leaving. All in all, apologies aside she might not have had a Wonderful Life, but it could have been a lot worse...

♥ ♥ ♥

(December 15th 1976)

Alice had given Dorcas a copy of the best photos from the previous night, the same day she received a letter from her girlfriend.

Marlene had been sending her letters weekly (sometimes) more for almost two years but it was only last Christmas that those letters were signed Your Girlfriend, Marlene McKinnon and still every time she saw it she grinned.

However despite the warm glow of girlfriend this letter bore undeniable disappointment. Marlene would only be in her arms for two days during the holidays before she was whisked off by her best friend's family to Paris along with her mother and stepdad.
Marlene hadn't mentioned anything about their anniversary either although it wasn't like her to forget anything.

Taking a photograph from the pile, Dorcas slipped it into the envelope along with her reply which read:

My Marlene,

Everything is sideways over here. Lily apologised to me yesterday? (I'm not sure if I mentioned this about Lily but her and apologies don't mix very well) anyway, I was about to apologise to her for taking the piss out of Severus but she just came and said sorry to me? But she said she wouldn't forgive me yet and despite my pride ive decided to live up to my end of the degradation and let my ego rest. I'm not sure how to do it, hopefully by the time you see me again we'll have kissed and made up. (figuratively of course I'd never kiss anyone besides you!)

And since you're leaving again over the Christmas I'm just assuming you'll be spending every waking moment of the two days you are here with me. I'm much too clingy to know you're in town and you're not coming to see me!

I'll have to meet Esme-Leigh one day, and the marauders you so fondly tell me about. I'm not sure they're quite the same crowd as Alice and Lily I'm not sure but by your description I think your friends would get along with anybody (as do mine to be perfectly fair...)

I'm running out of paper so this will have to suffice as goodbye until such times as I go to the shop and get another notepad!
I love you millions!

Your one and only,
Dorcas Meadowes

Ps. I've enclosed a photo of the photoshoot we went on for Alice and Lily's project yesterday, I hope you like it!

She folded the letter over and slipped it back in with the picture. It was her favourite one they took yesterday; in frame was Dorcas, wearing a denim jacket with a rose coloured woolly collar to match her pale pink pom-pom hat and wellie boots. Her hair flowed out of the confinement of the hat and billowed slightly in the night air, the gaps in which projections of the lights and Ferris wheels of Christmas spread over the neighbouring city. The shot was perhaps the best Lily had ever taken.

Lily. That was a bittersweet name to think of, the oxymoron left a poisonous taste on the tip of her tongue. She needed very much to do something mildly distracting.

Dorcas stood up from her desk and looked out the window for said distraction. From the flat four stories up Cokeworth looked almost picturesque in the snowfall but all it did was annoy her: too icy to run.

Music. That was her only other option and so she scanned her extensive shelf of vinyls– one that could perhaps give Lily a run for her money.

December, 1963 jumped at her. She picked it up, and with its touch an influx of memories filled her mind.

A poxy apology...

Suddenly she knew what she had to do...

(December 21st 1976)

The last day of term consisted, mainly, of preparation for the marauders and the two girls. They transfigured desks into goblets and chalkboards into drinks trollies; all in all it was shaping up to be a spectacular night.

"I can't believe I just spent an hour making a paper chain when I could have used magic!" Sirius huffed, an equally irked Esme-Leigh on his shoulders, placing the freshly made golden chain on the ceiling.

"Don't be a prick, Padfoot! Now shift to the right a little."

He did so, gripping onto her ankles and shifting uncomfortably when his sudden blindness reminded him she was wearing a dress.
"Do you mind, Cassanova?"

Esme-Leigh looked down at her dress spread over his head and blushed, "désolé!" She cried, snatching her dress and tucking it behind his neck.

James, from the other end of the room was enjoying the whole scene a great deal as he smoked with James-Potter-Debonair while arranging the drinks.
"You can't seduce Sirius, Ez. He's immune."

"I wasn't trying to seduce him, you dolt!" She snapped, "I didn't notice!"

James chuckled, "alrighty, m'love."

Peter chose that moment to charge into the room with news of a prefect in the corridor.
"Remus! Moony!"

Remus looked up, "hmm?"

"Prefect!"

"A real life one? Holy shit I must get their autograph!" He cried, getting up in no rush to exit the room, purposely agitating Peter.

Everyone else stayed positively silent while Remus charmed the pants off whoever was outside the door. He didn't take long either; Remus had always been one for smooth talking. Not in the same was as James was– nor for the same intention, but he'd served at least half as many detentions as the other marauders despite having committed more Filtch-Worthy, Trophy-Polishing Crimes.

"Mission accomplished. As you were."

♣ ♣ ♣

(December 21st 1976)

Night fell soon enough and it was clear to see what a fantastic job they six of them had done to the old classroom. The paper chains Sirius and Esme-Leigh had placed on the ceiling fell in an extravagant lattice effect, bubbles Remus and Marlene had charmed to float around the room without popping bopped around projecting the red and green light that twinkled off the large Christmas tree that Peter had finished decorating not half an hour ago.

"Haven't we done stupendously?" Esme grinned as she surveyed the scene from James' side. On days like these it was painfully easy to tell that Veela blood ran through her veins: her hair was deep purple with silver bangs sweeping her forehead in a style that might have looked quite tacky on anyone but her. Her glasses still sat on the end of her perfectly straight, freckled nose but she wore them with perhaps even more style than usual. The cord pinafore she wore swept round her knees and complimented a woolly jumper that she only ever brought out at Christmas time.

"Splendidly, I would say. I'd even go as far as to say marvellously."

The metamorphmagus nodded, beaming into a goblet of firewiskey.
"Now, I'm gonna dance."

He grinned devilishly, "Don't get hurt." (Whenever James saw it fit to reference Muggle culture– in this case the 1956 musical High Society– there was never a case he wouldn't do so.)

"Hysterical," she said, holding out her hand as an invitation. He shook his head.

"I'm much better than you at dancing– it would be embarrassing for you."

"Your loss."
She twisted away and into Sirius' arms giving him no room to object to her dance offer (not that he would have declined. Sirius had delectable style when it came to dancing).

"Alone?"

James turned to see Remus joining him, leaning against the drinks table with him.
"They look rather pretty, don't they?"

James frowned, "who?"

"Esme and Padfoot. It's a shame Sirius is gay, they'd likely be the most aesthetically pleasing couple in the school."

"Indeed," James snuck a glance over to his friend and smirked. He wasn't watching Esme. He was watching Sirius.

"Anyway I didn't come to fawn; I was talking to Ikra Patel and she's asking after you, thought you ought to know."

James glanced over to Remus' line of sight to see Ikra drinking what appeared to be a Muggle vodka coke: Ikra was a Muggleborn Ravenclaw, a very pretty one that James had failed to notice until now. It was no secret that James could charm just about any girl he liked into bed (or often a broom closet or astronomy tower), upholding the status of dishy bad-boy did him rather well with the women of Hogwarts as he had come to discover.

The fact of the matter was that James Potter, for lack of a better phrase, collected girlfriends like chocolate frog cards. You glance at it for a moment, appreciate its beauty, then –more often than not– leave it behind as you carry on daily life.

He made his way over to Ikra with dexterity, swooping and gliding around the hundreds of bodies that had somehow managed to fit into the room.

"Evening, love. Lupin said you were asking after me?"

Ikra jumped at the sudden voice in her ear. She grinned as she turned to face him, her honey-brown eyes glowing with tipsy, Christmas cheer.
"Did he?"

James took a moment to admire the beauty of Ikra. He'd never considered her particularly repulsive nor had he stopped long enough to consider how nubile she actually was. Her skin was a silky smooth brown and her hair was often clipped above her head, but today it cascaded down her back in vivacious curls. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but he didn't mind being this close to Ikra at all.

"He did."

Ikra smirked, "and you thought you'd come and find me?"

He shifted closer to her, pouring himself another firewiskey and enjoying the burn that flared in the back of his throat when he took a sip.
"Well it's not everyday a pretty girl asks after you."

Ikra blushed. He wasn't by any means wrong, Ikra was plenty good-looking but something about the way James Potter said things seemed to allure anyone close enough to entrap themselves in his spell of knife cutting jawlines and piercing hazel eyes.

"Liar. Girls are after you all the time."

"So you are after me then?"

"Perhaps."

"Wonderful."

James Potter had always been a smooth talker, it might have been down to the fact that most Potters were. It might have been a learned behaviour, perhaps innate, but it didn't take long before one drink turned into five and they were both intoxicated with the vertigo that came with vodka-coke and firewiskey.

"If we didn't love here this would likely be the point where I'd ask you to call me a cab." Ikra giggled, resting her chin on his arm and enjoying the envious looks she was getting from other females around the room.

Unable to resist the reference, James grinned, "okay, you're a cab."

She laughed but James got the impression she didn't really get it. Not many people tended to understand his reference to classic musicals or books.
And that (plus a drink or two for both of them) was all it really took for the night to end with an intense snog in the astronomy tower.

He knew it was bad– to make a habit of this. He knew he should probably stop. But he didn't.

Hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter and James didn't piss you off too much?
Let me know what you think Dorcas is going to do?
Also I finished editing this baby at about 4am so bare with me if there's some mistakes.

Anyway, I've got a few more tests and exams coming up so I can't tell you when the next chapter is coming but I love writing this book so I hope it'll be soon!

Love you all very very much!

Abbi ♥️