Fic: Christmas at Wartime
Dec. 15th, 2010 04:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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mini_festTitle: Christmas at Wartime:
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dani_meows
Rating:PG-13
Characters:Lily, Harry, Sirius, James, Remus, Peter
Prompt(s): 5.)Christmas 1980: I'd love to see snapshots of the various HP families at this time of year - particularly the Potters, Longbottoms, and Malfoy's celebrating their baby's first Christmases in the shadow of the looming war.
Warnings:None
Summary:The Potter family celebrates Christmas 1980.
Word Count:1,033
Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to its owners, not me.
A/N:Thanks for the beta, you know who you are.
Christmas at Wartime:
25 December 1980
Cradling her five-month-old son in her arms, Lily Evans Potter tried not to think of the events going on outside. For just one day, she vowed, as her son's green eyes looked into hers, she would not think about the war; it would not be allowed to creep into her family's day. Let the war rage outside without her and her husband today. It was Harry's first Christmas and it needed to be a happy one.
Harry let out a sound, effectively distracting his mother from her thoughts, as he reminded her that he was hungry and that the food service was a little slow today. “Sorry sweetie, Mummy was just thinking. Let's get you fed and dressed, wake Dada up, and see what Santa brought Mummy's good boy.” She undid her top and held her child to her breast. The baby latched onto her nipple with enthusiasm as he began his meal. He was always hungry these days. Lily dreaded the days when he'd begin to bite. She'd already decided that the day he bit her would be the day that she weaned him.
When he was done feeding, Lily went about changing him into a simple green jumper and trousers, an outfit that Petunia had given her. Lily remembered how Petunia had said, sneering, that the clothing was “too common for her little Dudders,” but for a “common boy like Harry, with two layabout parents who didn't even work like normal and decent folks” it was more than adequate. Lily had accepted the gift with a smile noticing that, despite the venom of her sister's words, the outfit had still had a tag, was expensive, and matched the color of her son's eyes. She hadn't wanted to fight with her sister. Not that she ever wanted to fight with her sister but on that day she'd just wanted the two of them to be at peace like they'd been when they were children, before she'd met Sev in the park; before her Hogwarts letter; before the differences in their personalities had led to an endless conflict.
Lily had a feeling in her gut telling her that had been the last time she'd see ’Tunie. Thoughts of the war had crept up on her again; perhaps it was unavoidable and impossible to think of anything else.
“Let's go wake up Dada,” she said, forcing her thoughts back to the present once more.
James, who'd come home from watch duty four hours ago with more news of losses from their side of the war, woke with a start at the first sounds of noise. Seeing his wife and son (Harry giving his father at toothless grin), James went from battle-ready warrior to a grinning trickster.
“Happy Christmas,” he greeted both of them, before taking his child into his arms and placing wet and noisy kisses on his stomach.
“Let's see if Santa got you a racing broom,” he enthused to his son.
“James,” Lily scolded playfully, “No flying until he's at least five!”
“But he's a Potter,” James replied, “Harry was born to fly.”
Presents were opened with Harry watching the proceedings with great interest. Santa didn't bring racing brooms but he did bring new clothes, a few toys, and some new picture books.
Breakfast was a lazy affair. Both Lily and James had come to an agreement that today was family time until Christmas dinner. They played with their son and his new toys until the child became fussy and needed a nap. Sirius would be coming over for dinner and Harry needed to be well rested for his exuberant and exhausting godfather.
It was an hour before dinner; Harry was still sleeping, James and Sirius had their heads together plotting something that Lily didn't really want to know the details of, Peter and Remus were talking in enthusiastic voices about a project they were undertaking, and Lily had finished setting the table and setting things up for dinner.
Harry's cries let the room know that he was awake and ready for attention. Lily set down the dishrag in her hand and went to pick him up, but Sirius had beaten her to her son's crib; he was cradling Harry and cooing to him.
“There's my favorite junior Marauder,” he said. “Been up to any good pranks lately?”
Harry blew spit bubbles at his godfather.
“He's the only junior Marauder,” Remus mused.
“So far,” James said with a smirk.
“You can carry the next one,” Lily said to her husband. Harry was an angelic baby, but the birth had been difficult and painful; unless she developed amnesia, it was much too soon to think of doing that again.
The others laughed at James’ face and everyone went out to the living room.
“Can you say, 'Padfoot'?” Sirius was asking Harry.
“You can do it, kiddo: ‘Padfoot’…”
“Da!” Harry squealed. “Da!”
Harry was looking right at Sirius as he said it. James’ expression was a mix of joy and pride that his son had said his first words and agitation that it was said to Sirius.
All throughout dinner, Harry kept squealing “Da!” and each time he referred to ‘Padfoot.’ Each time, the others would burst out laughing at James’ expression.
Suddenly, the cheer and happiness of the room evaporated as a full order alert was called. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had attacked and assistance was needed for the wounded and survivors.
The Marauders left and Lily was left holding her son as the joy was once more absorbed into darkness. Cradling her son, she prayed that next Christmas there would be peace.
By the next Christmas, Lily was in the ground, alongside her husband, at Godric's Hollow; Remus was devastated, drunk and alone; Peter was a rat in hiding, being harassed by the twin terrors; Sirius was in Azkaban, haunted by his failure to protect his most cherished family; and Harry was alone in a dark cupboard, tears in his eyes, hungry and alone. The rest of the world, however, knew peace.
Author:
dani_meowsRating:PG-13
Characters:Lily, Harry, Sirius, James, Remus, Peter
Prompt(s): 5.)Christmas 1980: I'd love to see snapshots of the various HP families at this time of year - particularly the Potters, Longbottoms, and Malfoy's celebrating their baby's first Christmases in the shadow of the looming war.
Warnings:None
Summary:The Potter family celebrates Christmas 1980.
Word Count:1,033
Disclaimer:Harry Potter belongs to its owners, not me.
A/N:Thanks for the beta, you know who you are.
Christmas at Wartime:
25 December 1980
Cradling her five-month-old son in her arms, Lily Evans Potter tried not to think of the events going on outside. For just one day, she vowed, as her son's green eyes looked into hers, she would not think about the war; it would not be allowed to creep into her family's day. Let the war rage outside without her and her husband today. It was Harry's first Christmas and it needed to be a happy one.
Harry let out a sound, effectively distracting his mother from her thoughts, as he reminded her that he was hungry and that the food service was a little slow today. “Sorry sweetie, Mummy was just thinking. Let's get you fed and dressed, wake Dada up, and see what Santa brought Mummy's good boy.” She undid her top and held her child to her breast. The baby latched onto her nipple with enthusiasm as he began his meal. He was always hungry these days. Lily dreaded the days when he'd begin to bite. She'd already decided that the day he bit her would be the day that she weaned him.
When he was done feeding, Lily went about changing him into a simple green jumper and trousers, an outfit that Petunia had given her. Lily remembered how Petunia had said, sneering, that the clothing was “too common for her little Dudders,” but for a “common boy like Harry, with two layabout parents who didn't even work like normal and decent folks” it was more than adequate. Lily had accepted the gift with a smile noticing that, despite the venom of her sister's words, the outfit had still had a tag, was expensive, and matched the color of her son's eyes. She hadn't wanted to fight with her sister. Not that she ever wanted to fight with her sister but on that day she'd just wanted the two of them to be at peace like they'd been when they were children, before she'd met Sev in the park; before her Hogwarts letter; before the differences in their personalities had led to an endless conflict.
Lily had a feeling in her gut telling her that had been the last time she'd see ’Tunie. Thoughts of the war had crept up on her again; perhaps it was unavoidable and impossible to think of anything else.
“Let's go wake up Dada,” she said, forcing her thoughts back to the present once more.
James, who'd come home from watch duty four hours ago with more news of losses from their side of the war, woke with a start at the first sounds of noise. Seeing his wife and son (Harry giving his father at toothless grin), James went from battle-ready warrior to a grinning trickster.
“Happy Christmas,” he greeted both of them, before taking his child into his arms and placing wet and noisy kisses on his stomach.
“Let's see if Santa got you a racing broom,” he enthused to his son.
“James,” Lily scolded playfully, “No flying until he's at least five!”
“But he's a Potter,” James replied, “Harry was born to fly.”
Presents were opened with Harry watching the proceedings with great interest. Santa didn't bring racing brooms but he did bring new clothes, a few toys, and some new picture books.
Breakfast was a lazy affair. Both Lily and James had come to an agreement that today was family time until Christmas dinner. They played with their son and his new toys until the child became fussy and needed a nap. Sirius would be coming over for dinner and Harry needed to be well rested for his exuberant and exhausting godfather.
It was an hour before dinner; Harry was still sleeping, James and Sirius had their heads together plotting something that Lily didn't really want to know the details of, Peter and Remus were talking in enthusiastic voices about a project they were undertaking, and Lily had finished setting the table and setting things up for dinner.
Harry's cries let the room know that he was awake and ready for attention. Lily set down the dishrag in her hand and went to pick him up, but Sirius had beaten her to her son's crib; he was cradling Harry and cooing to him.
“There's my favorite junior Marauder,” he said. “Been up to any good pranks lately?”
Harry blew spit bubbles at his godfather.
“He's the only junior Marauder,” Remus mused.
“So far,” James said with a smirk.
“You can carry the next one,” Lily said to her husband. Harry was an angelic baby, but the birth had been difficult and painful; unless she developed amnesia, it was much too soon to think of doing that again.
The others laughed at James’ face and everyone went out to the living room.
“Can you say, 'Padfoot'?” Sirius was asking Harry.
“You can do it, kiddo: ‘Padfoot’…”
“Da!” Harry squealed. “Da!”
Harry was looking right at Sirius as he said it. James’ expression was a mix of joy and pride that his son had said his first words and agitation that it was said to Sirius.
All throughout dinner, Harry kept squealing “Da!” and each time he referred to ‘Padfoot.’ Each time, the others would burst out laughing at James’ expression.
Suddenly, the cheer and happiness of the room evaporated as a full order alert was called. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had attacked and assistance was needed for the wounded and survivors.
The Marauders left and Lily was left holding her son as the joy was once more absorbed into darkness. Cradling her son, she prayed that next Christmas there would be peace.
By the next Christmas, Lily was in the ground, alongside her husband, at Godric's Hollow; Remus was devastated, drunk and alone; Peter was a rat in hiding, being harassed by the twin terrors; Sirius was in Azkaban, haunted by his failure to protect his most cherished family; and Harry was alone in a dark cupboard, tears in his eyes, hungry and alone. The rest of the world, however, knew peace.
