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A/N: Everything you recognize belongs to JKR. This is my first attempt at writing Lily and James the first, so hopefully it didn't turn out too badly. This collection of stories is going to feature several HP characters, and each chapter is its own piece, so this is all the Lily/James I have.

Begin the Christmas fluff!

“Hurry up, James, we'll be late!”

Lily Evans Potter stood impatiently at the door with her infant son bundled up in her arms. She glanced down at him. Only his little face was visible in the hat, snowsuit, and blanket that were keeping him warm. He was asleep against her shoulder. At only five months old, little Harry spent a great deal of his time sleeping. She hoped he would wake up when they got to the church.

James came stumping down the stairs in a pair of Wellies and a heavy coat. “I could be listening to Quidditch right now on the wireless, you know. Harry's too little to have any idea what's going on. Can't we just-”

“No.” She rolled her eyes at her husband in exasperation. “I want Harry to have a proper first Christmas. Get a move on.”

The church wasn't far from their little cottage, and they strolled down the snow-covered road together. James seemed to relax as they walked, forgetting about his Quidditch match, and put an arm around Lily, reaching up to tickle Harry's chin with his other hand. She could hear the choir singing in the church, the carol faint on the night air, growing stronger as they got closer.

Still, still, still, one can hear the falling snow.
For all is hushed, the world is sleeping,
Holy Star its vigil keeping.
Still, still, still, one can hear the falling snow.

The children of the parish were doing their yearly Nativity Play, and Lily and James sat at the back to watch. They weren't very good, but that was a traditional part of Nativity Plays, and Lily smiled at the little ones as they struggled to say their lines, or said them in overly loud, nervous voices. They were all trying so hard, God love them.

James seemed to find the entire thing very amusing, and Lily had to put her foot down hard over his to stop him laughing when the children stuttered over their lines.

“How will you feel when it's Harry up there messing up his lines?” she hissed, and that shut him up.

The carol service followed the Nativity Play. James had never been to a carol service before, and didn't know the songs that were sung, but he stood next to Lily, holding Harry so that she could hold her candle and sing. Harry had finally woken up, and was looking around with wide green eyes, staring at his mother as she sang.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, 'tis the eve of our Saviour's birth.
The night is peaceful all around you,
Close your eyes, let sleep surround you.
Sleep, sleep, sleep, 'tis the eve of our Saviour's birth.

“Have we had enough proper Christmas yet?” James asked a few carols later. “Harry's starting to fuss.”

Lily reached over to her son, who immediately made a swipe for her finger and started gnawing on it. He was cutting his first teeth, and went from zero to fussy ridiculously fast. She took the baby away from James, cuddling him close, and they left the church.

Bathilda Bagshot was just coming in as they left. They stopped to talk for a few minutes; Bathilda loved children and doted on Harry. Harry did not like being delayed in the cold, and protested in a loud cry.

“Better get the little dear home,” Bathilda said fondly, shooing them out. She was leaning heavily on her cane, clutching a slightly mouldy fur coat tightly at her chest. Lily reminded herself to bring over a potion for Bathilda's painful joints.

“Happy Christmas,” Lily said as they left.

“Happy Christmas, my dears.” Bathilda waved to them and then hobbled into the church.

James took Harry back as they walked, holding him against one shoulder and reaching out to take Lily's hand with his free hand. The night was peaceful, the sound of the carol service echoing faintly on the street, and Lily listened to the music and allowed herself a moment to be thankful for her beloved little family.

Dream, dream, dream, of the joyous day to come.
While guardian angels without number,
Watch you as you sweetly slumber.
Dream, dream, dream, of the joyous day to come.

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