white noise [rose]

[JAMES SIRIUS POTTER]

Snow fell in a flurry, the slight breeze causing it to fall at an angle. James sighed as his eyes fluttered open; the light shining through the curtains that he’d forgotten to close the night before caused his lids to snap shut once more. He groaned quietly and pulled his duvet over his head. The faint but lingering sense of white noise seemed to hum inside his mind and the teenager curled up in his bedding. Being alone was one of the things that James disliked – it gave his mind time to wander, and a wandering mind wasn’t something that James tended to enjoy. After a moment or two the Gryffindor pushed himself up from where he lay, his bed creaked as he moved. Throwing a glance out of the window and toward the white blanket that was thickening as each second passed, James pulled a jumper on over his torso, and left his room a pair of muggle joggers already hung casually from his waist.

He padded down the stairs of the house and into the kitchen, still the house seemed quiet...a little too quiet. After making himself a warm drink, James dropped onto one of the sofas and dropped his head against the backrest. His eyes closed again, his hands wrapped themselves around the warm ceramic of his mug, the liquid steamed in his grasp.

Despite James often jovial and somewhat chaotic antics, it was times like this that he couldn’t help but brood and brooding was something that he hated to do. He often found himself trying to console his mind that Harry himself grew up without parents, but still James found himself in the centre of a psychological battle. Harry had never truly known his parents – he however had. James had loved his parents, and now he could be found resenting them. Resenting them for their careers that had caused their deaths, and resenting them for the strong and undeniable need for vengeance that had occasionally took to haunting his dreams. Usually James would shake off any negative feelings by joking around but right now he couldn’t, he was alone and it was Christmas and it was common knowledge that Christmas was hard for those who had lost loved ones and James was no exception to that cliché.

Taking a sip from his steaming liquid James found himself staring at one of the photographs in the room, a photograph that contained the Weasley’s and the Potter’s, a small and nostalgic smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, but it wasn’t long before he’d closed his eyes once more his drink still sitting steadily in his lap.

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[rose emma weasley]

Christmas had always been a pretty holiday. No, pretty wasn't the word... More like beautiful. Snug in the Weasley home, drinking cocoa, the snow outside. It was their own little wonderland far secluded from any traffic or noise, muggle or witch. The house was completely remote and entirely lovely in the Winter time. Not that a lot of the Christmas Holiday was actually spent in the home of Ron and Hermione Weasley. Usually on the day the entire Weasley and Potter clan swept off to the burrow for a meal. It was actually pretty perfect, spending Christmas day with family, but Rose couldn't deny the beauty of the long winter nights spent at home. There had been a time when Christmas had also been pure and entirely happy. There was a time when the family had been complete. Now, things were more difficult. Rose couldn't imagine spending Christmas without her parents. How could she ever dream of being able to console her cousins? It had been years since the deaths and yet still Rose felt the full weight of what had happened every christmas, almost like clockwork when she realized that Aunt Ginny wouldn't come over and make sweet christmas deserts with her mother, when her Uncle Harry didn't look her over and say "Jesus, you're growing more and more like your mother every day." Rose found herself missing her father's response of "But she gets her good looks from me" even though at the time it had made her blush. It just felt wrong.

And yet, Christmas was still Christmas. People sang Carols and drank eggnog. There were just two less Stockings hung on one less fireplace. There were three Christmas jumpers now going unused. It wasn't supposed to be like that. Their family wasn't supposed to crumble. Death was not supposed to grip one family so tight they couldn't breathe. It wasn't fair. Things, as it turned out, were neer fair for a member of her ever growing yet ever dwindling family.

Rose found herself waking early. It was strange, that. When at school she was always hoping and pleading with herself for a few more minutes, yet now she found her getting out of bad and wrapping her night robe around herself. Slipping on her slippers, the decidedly brunette (she had changed her hair colour with use of a spell the night before, though it was a very temporary spell)Weasley padded down the stairs. It often surprised the girl how warm her house was, even in the depths of Winter. Her steps were almost silent as she made her way in to the kitchen. Seeing her cousin, she almost turned. Rose Weasley you chicken! It was just... he looked so broken. How could she handle that? Still, clenching her fists she moved further into the kitchen, putting the kettle on boil before turning, leaned against the cabinet, and watching James. "The way to appreciate and cherish a real good cup of joe is to drink it, just so you know." Forgetting her thirst, she moved to let the kettle cool and sidled over to sit in the seat by her (slightly) elder cousin. "You okay, Jamie?" It was rare for her to call him James. She never had when he was younger. It just didn't seem right to her.

[JAMES SIRIUS POTTER]

Christmas. Snow. Family. It was supposed to be a good time of the year, and James cursed his own thoughts and unwelcome bouts of cynicism. He released a gentle sigh, his eyes remained closed. For a moment or two James wanted to remain where he was forever, simply sit down and allow everything to happen as it chose to, but he couldn’t let that happen. His parents couldn’t be killed for no apparent reason, though he knew that there was nothing he could do at that exact moment, he still felt that he’d have a chance at gaining vengeance some point further down the line. Of course, he’d never let his family know what he meant to do, sure everyone spoke of how they wanted vengeance for Harry and Ginny, but the difference was that James was going to get it. He tried not to hate the people that had murdered his parents, but he struggled and made feeble attempts at consoling himself that hatred wouldn’t get him anywhere. This was a side to James that he didn’t let people see, he didn’t want them to know that he was damaged – he had to remain the jovial and fun loving guy that they knew. He had to remain the person that he truly was, he couldn’t allow for any other feelings to overwhelm him to such an extent that even he couldn’t see who he was anymore. He couldn’t let the loneliness that the Christmas period caused him to feel to envelope him.

James was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Rose enter the room. In fact, he even jumped when she spoke. His eyes snapped open and he turned toward his cousin, watching silently as she moved to sit down beside him. The short silence gave the Gryffindor chance to eradicate his unwanted thoughts. He allowed his eyes to dart from his still warm drink toward Rose as she asked if he was okay. With the knowledge that an inclining nod of the head wouldn’t suffice as a response, James forced a lob-sided smirk to tug at the corners of his lips “Me yeah, course. Always!” with that he took a gulp of his drink, adding a dramatic ‘ahhh’ as he swallowed the liquid, praying that the illusion of his usual self would lead his cousin off the scent.

“You, Rosie?” James arched an eyebrow, his head tilting to one side and his eyes glancing from his drink to Rose and back again as he directed her question back at her - curious to see whether or not it would distract her from his self pity.