Summary: It's Christmas in Lily's seventh year, and this time around, a certain James Potter has decided 'no' is not an answer and has found a way to make her holiday season almost unbearable. How? By tormenting her with a present for every day of Christmas (twelve). Anyone else would enjoy such treatment, but when Lily and James are involved, things get a bit hectic. But wait, is that mistletoe I spy around the corner?

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Nov 6, 2005

A/N: I know I already have a Lily/James story I'm working on, but I thought it'd be interesting to take on another one, same characters, different plot. A nice challenge for me, especially since I'll have to switch off and on between humor and romance.

So this one's basically another idea I have as to how Lily and James hooked up, a less believable, but hopefully more interesting one. I'll be alternating between writing the two stories and see where that takes me. Fun.

Disclaimer: I'm sure you all know it by heart now.

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On the First Day of Christmas: The French Maid

I, Lilliana Marie Evans, have always had a reputation of being a bit uptight. But what's a girl supposed to do when James Potter shows up on her doorstep dressed in a French Maid's outfit?

Seriously. I need to go perform a cleansing charm on my eyes now. I've seen things today that do not need to be seen.

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that it was nine o'clock. Oh crap. I gotta start sleeping earlier. I looked around. Both Leah's and Salina's beds were empty. Why the hell didn't anyone wake me up?

I hurriedly scrambled out of bed, hoping that I could still catch the last few minutes of charms class. It's then that I realize just how hard and cold the floorboards can be. Ouch.

Lily Evans, meet the floor.

Hello, how do you do? Jolly good weather we're having today.

I lay sprawled on my back on the hard cold floorboards and stared up at the ceiling. Strange. I've never quite noticed that crack there before. I need to learn to be more insightful. For the first time I could remember, I debated with myself whether I really wanted to go to class today.

Then I mentally slapped myself on the head. Of course. It's the first day of Christmas Break. No wonder my friends didn't wake me up. They've already left on vacation.

Muttering to myself, I sat up and rubbed my probably bruised shoulder. Some friends they are; they didn't even bother to say goodbye.

Then another thought hit me. Oh gods. My friends have gone home for the holidays. I'm all alone. I wonder if it's too late to catch the night bus to Australia?

You know, I thought as I sat there, still blinking the sleep from my eyes, someone should really file a complaint to the headmaster about these floorboards. Have I mentioned they're detestable?

That's a nice word, detestable, it is.

I then remembered the nice plush carpets up in the Head dorms, and I wondered why in the world I didn't sleep there more often. Having to deal with James must be worth having nice soft cushioning under you when you fall off your bed.

Tonight, I thought to myself, I'm sleeping in the Head dorms. Forget Potter. He's probably off skiing in the Himalayas anyway.

I pulled on some decent clothes, scrubbed my teeth and my face clean and tottered downstairs to the common room. It was surprisingly empty and I debated for a few moments whether I should forget about breakfast altogether and read for a while next to the fire. Then my stomach gave a loud growl and I headed out the portrait hole.

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The Great Hall was unusually empty too, now that most of the school had gone home for the holidays. I strolled casually to the Gryffindor table, pulled a bowl of cereal towards me, and began to eat, humming slightly to myself.

That turned out to be the last few minutes of the day that I actually enjoyed.

"Good morning, Miss Evans," came a voice to my left.

I sighed and put down my Daily Prophet, swallowing my mouthful and turning to the source of the greeting.

I came face to face with a grinning Horace Slughorn.

Great. Just great. Of all the people who could've wished me a good morning, he had to be the one to do so. He isn't a bad man, really, but he tends to annoy the living crap out of me. One would think my telepathic death wishes would've had him dropping dead by now.

No wait, I take that back. I'd much rather see him stuffed into a size small parachute and dropped of the astronomy tower. As it is, however, he is still my professor, and I'll need him to pass the Newts. I put on a fake smile.

Thanks to you, professor, it is no longer a good morning.

"Morning Professor," I said cheerfully. Maybe he'll leave me alone now.

To my anguish, he chose to sit down beside me on the bench. I felt the wood beneath me quiver a bit and wondered if it'll hold up under his weight.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor, Miss Evans."

Oh crap. Not again. The last time I did him a 'favor', I found myself being ogled and put on display in all my glory for all the members of the Children are our Future! association.

Never again, Lily, never again.

I gritted my teeth and tried hard not to jinx the fat bastard. It wasn't easy.

I'd rather date a Blast ended Skewrt, I thought vehemently. I'd rather inhale copious amounts of poison. I'd rather kiss James Potter.

Wait a second. What was that last one? I would not rather kiss Potter. What was I thinking? The sugar in my cereal must be getting to me. I leaned over to examine the box in front of me. 33 grams of sugar. Ha! Now you can't call me crazy.

"Miss Evans?"

Dammit. I'd hoped that he would've left by now.

Realizing the pleasant smile had dropped off my face during the course of my musings, I quickly plastered it back on.

"I'd love to."

Crap. Crappidy crappidy crap. I did not just say that. I looked furiously around for someone to save me. Anyone? Hello, damsel in distress here. Even Potter would do.

The corpulent lard ball beamed. "Great!" he chortled, and I had to lean back lest I inhale too much of his sugared breath, "You finish your breakfast and I'll meet you in my office in a few minutes."

I looked back to my now soggy cereal as he waddled off. Suddenly, I've lost my appetite. I wonder if it's too late to go back to bed?

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As I trudged toward the exit, a masculine figure blocked my path.

"Morning, Evans!" greeted James Potter, the last person I wanted to see right now, especially after that thought I most certainly hadn't had about kissing him. Why wasn't he falling off a mountain in the Himalayas?

And why did everybody keep wishing me a good morning? It was most certainly not a good morning. In fact, it's such a bad morning that I was beginning to wish I had never woken up.

Ignoring his remark, I pushed past James and headed toward Slughorn's office on the second floor. Maybe I can manage to get myself lodged in a missing stair somehow along the way.

The annoying git tagged along behind me, and I tried to calm myself down. Jinxing Potter into a million pieces wouldn't do. When he began to whistle a tune, however, I felt my temper rising. I whipped around and pulled out my wand.

"Don't you have other people to torment, Potter?"

He pretended to count off his fingers, the git. "No," he said after a moment, "Sirius is busy trying to bribe the house elves, Peter is probably hanging off a chandelier somewhere, and Remus is…Ah…where is Remus?"

I growled in frustration and left him there with that confused expression on his face. Maybe if I ignore him he'll disappear.

Unfortunately, James was stubborn enough to make up for his lack of charm. "Go out with me, Lily?" he questioned, catching up to me again.

I mentally added 'lack of subtlety' to his list of faults and gave him a pointed look. "For the last time, Potter, no. I'd rather go out with Snape."

…Which, in fact, wasn't true, and I looked hurriedly around the hall to make sure the aforementioned wasn't in close proximity. He wasn't. I sighed in relief.

Seriously, though, one would think James had gotten the message by now. This must be the, what, hundredth time he's asked me? I have to admire his determination, though.

James was nonplussed, as he always was. "Fine," he replied coolly, still keeping step beside me, "but I'm willing to bet that by Christmas you'll be singing to a different tune."

I stopped. Arg. Not again. Not another of those annoying bets he's always making with his friends. Why couldn't he find another girl to bug? I felt like sinking down and throwing my hands up, shouting "why me!", but of course, I couldn't. I opted instead for fixing James with a glare. Maybe if I glower at him like this long enough he'll melt into a puddle of nothingness. It's worth a try.

"How much this time, Potter?" I said in my best Dr. Doom voice.

James put on a hurt expression. "Really, now, Evans, I'm hurt that you would think my love for you can be bought with a bet."

I chuckled and almost let my glare slip. I may not be in Ravenclaw, but I'm not stupid. I raised an eyebrow and still managed to scowl at him. Wow, I'm getting rather good at this.

He grinned, then scratched his chin thoughtfully. "A keg of butterbeer, a dozen chocolate frogs, bragging rights among my friends, and my own self interest. Oh, and Salina threw in a galleon."

His last remark threw me off. Salina! My own friend! What a traitor! I made a mental note to strangle her when she returned from break.

Struggling to keep my voice calm, I intoned, "You'd better start picking out your favorite pair of boxers, Potter."

"How'd you know?" he asked, his tone surprised for once.

I grinned to myself. Every time he took on a bet, his part of the deal was to run around the grounds with nothing on but a pair of underwear if he lost, and he always did. If nothing else, James was entirely predictable. I let my glare drop (it wasn't working anyways) and replaced it with a mocking smirk, leaning close to him.

"Myself," I whispered, "I prefer the pair with the little purple house elves on them, the ones you wore last year."

I left him standing there, still incredulous, and sashayed off toward Slughorn's office, breaking into giggles the moment I was out of earshot. Ha! Score one for me. It wasn't often that I could best Potter at his own tricks. This called for a toast. I patted myself on the back.

Still chortling, I ascended the main staircase to the second floor, imagining James prancing around the grounds in his boxers. As much as I hated the guy, I had to admit he had a nice build.

…Not that I ever paid attention to it.

Oh crap. Not again. I've gotta stop eating that cereal.

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By the time the clock stroked seven and I had trudged to the Head dorms for the evening, the good mood that had come from besting James had dissipated.

The 'favor' Slughorn wanted had turned out to be helping him decide what to wear for a Christmas Party he had been invited to. All the best wizards and witches would be there, according to him. As if I gave a damn.

I had sat there for hours listening to his grunts and wheezes as he tried to squeeze himself into one frilly and overly bright dress shirt after another, and had politely told him what he wanted to hear for each outfit, hoping that he'd let me go. He had insisted, however, that I stay to watch him try on his entire oversized wardrobe. The whole affair had taken a good five hours.

Then, just as he'd finally waved me off for the day (he had decided on a maroon dress robe with horrendous yellow lace linings), I had made the mistake of wishing him a good time at his party.

He had then launched into a two hour monologue on the important people that were going to be there, complete with his own nostalgic reminisces of various protégées of his. The professor had concluded with offering to taking me along to the affair, but by that time I had had quite enough, and had scurried away before he could make any further plans.

So here I was, laying on my back on my bed in the Head Dorms, wondering why this ceiling was so crack free as compared to the one back in the Gryffindor Dormitory, when a loud knock sounded at the door.

I'm not here. Really, I'm not. Answering the door was the last thing I wanted to do at this moment, especially as it could only be one person. Who else could get inside the Head Common Room? Gods I need a sleeping drought.

The knock sounded again, more insistent, and I screwed my eyes shut, preparing for the door to be swung open, lock or no lock. James Potter was the single most adept at picking locks at Hogwarts.

Nothing happened. There was silence. I slowly opened my eyes and reached for my wand. Oh gods. What if there was some kind of monster lurking on the other side of the door? What if it was waiting to rip me up into a million shreds? I don't want to die. I've still got my whole life ahead of me. I still want to see James run around in his house elf boxers.

…So I can laugh and point at him, not because I enjoy seeing his bare chest. Yeah.

I slowly crept off the bed and towards the door, ready to bring up a defensive shield if the need arose. The plush carpet felt wonderful under my bare toes but I had no time to worry about that. Carefully I turned the doorknob and let the door slowly swing open.

Despite myself, I brought my hands up in front of my face to shield it. Gods, what a coward I am. Damn woman, I chided myself, are you a witch or not?

I bit my lip and lowered my arms, peering out into the Head Common Room. Just outside my doorstep, blocking the way out laid a gigantic box that was wrapped in red and white paper, frilly bow and all. It was bigger than me.

Oh wow. I just stared at it for a while, then had to bite my tongue to keep myself from shrieking in excitement and skipping around the room in glee. A present! For me! And it was huge! Oh boy oh boy oh boy.

I skipped over to my desk and grabbed the chair, dragging it over to where the present was. Climbing on top of it, I found a card lying just under the frilly green bow. I slid it out, cut it open with a flick of my wand, and read the note:

To: Lily

From: You will soon find out.

Day One.

How strange. I frowned and flipped the card over. On the reverse side there was a large, embossed letter 'K' done in metallic red.

I frowned harder. Personally, I preferred the letter 'T', but oh well, to each his own. I carefully set the card on my dresser, then climbed back onto the chair. My head swimming with the possibilities, I gripped the lid of the box and lifted. Breath growing shallow with excitement, I peered in.

I shrieked. The chair beneath me wobbled and fell over, depositing me onto the floor in a rumpled heap. There was a rustling of paper from within the box and then it fell open, each of the sides unwrapping to reveal none other than James Potter in the center, striking what he probably took to be a seductive pose and clad in a frilly black and white French maid's outfit, feather duster and all.

Oh gods. Somebody just shoot me now. I sat there where I had fallen, my face a most unbecoming shade of pink, dimly blessing the soft plush carpet that had cushioned my fall, at a loss for words as I watched James slowly arise and sway to the music that had suddenly materialized.

I felt my temper creep up, and finally, I lost it. "JAMES!" I bellowed, unleashing a full day's worth of anger, "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

He fixed me with what he probably thought was a seductive gaze and purred. "Your present," he replied, batting his fake eyelashes at me.

Damn it. This wasn't helping any. I felt my energy draining. I needed him to shout back at me. How was I supposed to vent my grief if he wouldn't retaliate? I tried again, and my voice came out weak, pathetic.

"What are you bloody talking about?"

He came toward me, still swaying most indecently, brushing me with his ridiculous feather duster and swinging his hips. I glanced down and found myself looking into his cleavage. Oh gods. This just wasn't right.

"James," I growled menacingly, though I felt more desperate than angry now.

James lifted the hem of his skirt and I had to shield my eyes. "This," he murmured huskily, "is your Christmas present."

Oh. Well that explains it. Jolly good.

Damn it. Sarcasm's really not my best thing. I'll have to get Salina to give me a few pointers. Oh wait. Salina had betrayed me by taking part in the bet with James. Crud.

Why the hell couldn't he just have gotten me a nice book or something? Or a box of chocolates? Anything had to be better than this.

"The twelve days of Christmas," James continued, slinking away from me and dancing over to my bed, where he draped himself over it, drawing up a fish-netted leg. "One present for each day." He smiled and ran his tongue over his lips, "On the first day you get me."

I had to admit he had nice legs, especially in those stockings. That didn't abate my temper any, though.

"James," I breathed angrily, "I don't know what the bloody hell you're talking about. Now get out of my room, and leave me alone."

"Are you sure you don't wanna, I dunno, do something with me? After all, I am lying here, on your bed. And if you haven't noticed, Lily, we're very…alone."

That did it. With another shriek (I've been getting good at this), I stomped over to my bed, grabbed his arm, and tried to drag him out of my room. Unfortunately, however, years of Quidditch training and the fact that James was much bigger than me also meant that he was much stronger than me, despite his current feminine appearance, and he immediately took my touching him as an invitation to…oh I dunno, cover my face, neck, and ears with kisses.

He reminds me a lot like a large, over friendly dog, I thought dimly as I tried to stop him from nibbling on my ear. Except, of course, his kisses were a lot nicer. I wonder if he was good at French Kissing.

…Uh oh. Did I just think that? I did not just think that. James began to move closer to my lips, and I began to panic. Serves you right for asking, Lily, I thought desperately. You're about to find out the answer to your question. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.

No. In an amazing feat of strength and flexibility I somehow managed to push James off me and out of the door, and then slam it. I sank down against it, heart thudding, onto the nice carpet and closed my eyes.

"Go out with me, Lily?" came James's voice outside the door, thankfully masculine again. I ignored it.

What had happened back there? There were parts of me that had almost wanted him to kiss me. Oh god oh god oh god. I need to see a doctor. I need to see a shrink. I need to see a psychiatrist.

This would be a fine story to tell the grandchildren. "Your grandfather came to me one day dressed in a French Maid's outfit and seduced me with a feather duster."

Wait…there it goes again! What grandchildren? Could the person who ran off with my sanity please return it? I'd be much obliged.

It's then that I fully understood what James had said. Twelve days of Christmas. Twelve days of 'presents'. Twelve days of torture.

Someone save me, quick.

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(end chapter 1)

You should've noticed by now that I have slight trouble with keeping tense when writing in this style. Dammit. Ah well.

Please leave a review if you do so feel inclined. I'll get the next chapter up sooner if I get some. Oh, and since I've got a good eleven presents left to go, I'd appreciate some suggestions. Thanks.

Read Soul's Rhapsody if you're looking for a fluffier LilyJames fic.

And good day!