Author's Note: Last chapter! And you know what that means? Tomorrow is Christmas! I hope all of you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Some time in the new year I will be making an addition to George and Angelina: Finding Balance. This one is going to be a little different. This will be a multiple chapter story, and I'll be releasing one new chapter each week. If you liked this, I hope you'll take the time to check out George and Angelina as well. Thank you for taking the time to read my work.

Disclaimer: The world and characters belong to JK Rowling.

James: White Christmas

December 24, 2030

2 p.m.

James glanced out the window of his London flat to see Muggles hurrying by and a gray sky. It was shaping up to be a bloody awful Christmas. No snow, working second shift, and he was about to piss off his wife. Again.

"It's not fair that you have to work tonight," Liz said, coming into the bedroom. "This is five years in a row that you've worked Christmas Eve and Christmas. When do you earn enough seniority to catch a break?"

"Life of an Auror," James replied, pulling on his button down. "And look at it this way, it frees you up to help your mum at the pub."

Liz shot him dirty look. "The last place I want to be on Christmas Eve is the Leaky Caldron."

"Oh, but maybe I can come by for dinner," James said, he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the tip of her nose. "You'll be wearing that fetching serving wench costume—"

"As will my sisters and mother."

"Don't ruin the fantasy. You'll have your bosoms hanging out—"

Liz shook her head. "James!"

"And I'll be dashing in my Auror's uniform—and you know how you can't resist that—I'll order the special and pinch your arse—"

"And I'll hex you."

"For which I'll have to arrest you for assaulting an Auror, but I can probably be persuaded to let the charges drop…"

Liz pouted, brushing her hand over his unruly auburn hair. "I had plans for us tonight. I thought you said you'd have Christmas Eve off this year."

For as long as James could remember he'd been in love with Elizabeth Francis Longbottom Potter. She was brave enough to keep up with him, but forgiving enough to keep him around. And beautiful, so beautiful, with properly ginger hair. Not like his mum and sister who had orange hair. Liz's long locks weren't orange or brown, they were that in between color. With big blue eyes and lightly freckled skin. He could remember when she was a skinny kid, and he could remember the year she started spilling out of her bra. James had stolen his first kiss when he was seven, and he hadn't looked back. But long experience told him when it was best to use a bit of distraction if he valued his bollocks.

James pressed his lips against Liz's soft neck, his hands creeping northward. "You know, I still have fifty whole minutes before my shift begins."

"James Potter," Liz said, pulling out his arms. "What have you done?"

2:30 p.m.

So, about three weeks ago, James had been on a raid. It was pretty routine-all they were doing was busting up a shipment of contraband from Egypt. What James considered boring, the rookies he was in charge of found terrifying. They were all pretty nervous, and James just wanted to alleviate some of the tension. He could have offered to buy everybody a round at the Leaky Caldron—he did get a familial discount after all—but no. He'd told Archie Hawick that if they didn't have the whole thing cleaned up by dinnertime, James would work Christmas Eve for the green kid.

Well, that's when all hell broke loose.

The intelligence had been faulty. The shipment had been a cover for a dragon egg dealer who was caught in the act. There had been a battle that landed Hawick and two of his brethren in St. Mungo's overnight. The paperwork alone had taken three hours.

Rather than tell Liz that he'd ruined her Christmas Eve plans, James might have said that his Commanding Officer had it out for him and put him on for the holiday. Not a complete lie. Robert Wood wanted to strangle James most days of the week.

Still, coming clean with Liz reminded him of why he should never lie to his wife. As James was walking into the Ministry of Magic, he was still wiping Bat Bogeys off his face. Damn his mother for teaching Liz that spell!

He was about to step onto the lift when he ran into a familiar bloke.

Literally. One moment James wasn't watching what he was doing, and the next he was sprawled across the marble floor.

"Oi! Look where—" James's words trailed off when he saw the other man sat on his arse before the lift doors. It was his cousin, of course. There were so many of them that there was always a fifty-fifty chance that it was a Weasley. Really didn't matter what the occasion was.

This time, the offender was Lou. A whole head taller than James (the wanker), red-haired, and sporting glasses from hours spent bent over ancient texts in the Department of Mysteries.

James grinned at his cousin, offering him his favorite bit of sign language: the two fingered salute.

Bugger off, James. Lou signed, but he laughed.

The cousins got to their feet. James brushing off his robes and Lou straightening his glasses.

Just coming on? Lou asked.

James sighed. Yes. You're not leaving yet, are you?

Going to pick up Amy. Tonight is Vic's last performance.

Who's watching Willie?

Lou had married Amelia Harcourt practically the day they graduated from Hogwarts. Rumor had it that Amy's Muggle parents weren't too keen to have their daughter marry so young, but Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur were happy enough about it. That was years ago, and now the young couple had a one-year-old.

His name is William, Lou replied. And he's at the Burrow for the night.

A whole night to yourselves? You can start on baby number two. James smirked at his cousin.

There was a moment when James thought Lou would flip him off and be done with it, but Lou smirked back.

That will put me two ahead of you. What will Aunt Ginny say?

James frowned. His mum and Hannah had baby fever. Every family dinner came with not-so-subtle hints that it was time Liz and James started a family. Frankly, it was something the two of them had talked about, but always in the context of someday. James was still busy proving that he deserved to be an Auror, and hadn't gotten in on his name. As for Liz, she was just a year past her apprenticeship as a potioneer. Besides, James still felt too much like a kid to be somebody's father.

Lou flipped James off, then waved as he headed out of the Ministry.

Checking his watch, James hurried onto the lift. Wood, who was a hard arse, liked his men to be at least fifteen minutes early for their shift. There was a reason that man wasn't married.

On his way into the Auror department, James ran into yet another relation. The harried-looking Teddy Lupin. He was dressed in civilian robes, and his hair was blue. Teddy never wore his hair blue when he was on shift, always keeping it his natural black, but according to Teddy, Vic loved his blue hair.

"I thought you had the day off," James said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I had to get something from Uncle Harry," Teddy replied, holding up a velvet box.

"What's this?"

Teddy eased open the box to reveal a double strand of pearls. "Do you think she'll like them?"

"Yeah, Vic and every other bird in the family. Aren't those supposed to come after the babies get here?"

"They'll look beautiful on her tonight," Teddy replied with that dopey grin he got any time he was talking about Vic. The ol' missus was second cello for the London Wizarding Philharmonic, but tonight was her last performance since she was pregnant with twins and the enormous instrument wouldn't fit between her legs much longer.

"How did you afford those?" James blurted out.

Aurors, especially those who'd been on the force as long as Teddy had, did pretty well. Not fancy pearl necklace well. James's bluntness earned an eye roll from the man he thought of as an older brother.

"They were my gran's," Teddy replied, snapping the box shut. "Apparently my grandpa bought them as a twentieth anniversary gift. She had Harry retrieve them from her vault for me."

"Teddy, I thought you'd left—Oh, James." Harry Potter walked out of his office, looked at his son, then at his battered gold watch. "Wood's going to have your bollocks if you don't hurry, then your mother will never get those grandkids she wants so badly."

"Happy Christmas, kid," Teddy said with a smirk.

5:45 p.m.

James stood outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes watching as a frazzled Mol gave her statement to Robert Wood. The Aurors had received an urgent call from the joke shop just minutes ago. Apparently there was a near duel over George's latest and greatest invention (thank Merlin that James had secured his back in September before they hit the shelves), but Mol had the situation in hand before a James, Wood, and some rookie kid could show up.

"Oi, cuz!" James called.

Mol shook her head, her normally fastidious red hair escaping her bun. The magenta and orange work robes of the Ol' Triple W really didn't do much for her complexion, but then they didn't look good on anybody. She walked over and poked him in that ticklish spot under his arm.

"Watch it! That's assaulting an Auror, that is!" James complained, sidling away from her bony fingers. Mol was always the worst tickler when they were growing up.

"I think I'll take my chances," she replied.

"Rough day?"

"You've no idea. This wasn't the first fight I broke up today." She pushed back her sleeve to reveal a nasty burn mark on her arm.

"You should maybe visit St. Mungo's," James said. "I think Freddie's on."

Mol shook her head. "This is what I get for selling my soul to George Weasley. That demon ran off to Greece with Aunt Angelina and left me the store for Christmas. Wanker. Besides, Bobby'll fix me up before he goes."

"Oooohhhh, Bobby," James mocked. "What's with you two anyways?"

"Nothing. Bobby and I grew up together—like cousins. He's my dad's godson for Merlin's sake! It would be like kissing you."

"Sure, because Vic and Teddy weren't raised like cousins or anything."

"Have you met Bobby Wood?" Mol scoffed, looking over her shoulder at James's burly C.O.

"Yes, and that's why I was hoping you'd start shagging him. Maybe then he'd get off my case."

Mol pinned him with a hard glare. "You wouldn't be the first person I hexed today, Potter."

7:30 p.m.

There still wasn't a snowflake in sight as James strolled into the Leaky Caldron for dinner. The pub was fairly busy with last minute shoppers on their way home, or folks fortifying themselves with a stiff drink before a family gathering. Neville was behind the bar, serving up warm Butterbeer and Firewhisky. Hannah was floating plates of mince pie out of the kitchen and onto trays. All three of their daughters were on the floor taking orders. As for James, he sauntered over to his usual table and sat down to wait.

The wait was long. James knew that Neville had seen him when he walked in, but that didn't mean his father-in-law would be inclined to mention that to any of the women of the family. However, James was pretty sure he was being purposely ignored. No patron of the Leaky Caldron sat this long unattended.

Finally, somebody approached James's table, but not the person he was expecting. His little sister plopped down in the chair opposite him in a sparkly dress and ten inches of makeup. She crossed her arms over her chest, and scowled at James.

"What's wrong, moppet?" James asked.

"What makes you think there's anything wrong?" Lily hissed.

James rubbed his face. Since they were little, Lily had been doing this. Something was bothering her, but for some reason James was just supposed to know what it was. No clues, no hints, he was just supposed to divine it out of thin air.

"See this," James said motioning to his red Auror's robes. "This means I'm on duty. I've got a limited amount of time to eat and chitchat. Out with it, or you'll have to wait for Boxing Day."

Lily's lip wobbled. "It's Myron."

Of course it was, but James didn't say that aloud. Myron Davies had been messing his baby sister around since her seventh year. And Myron, he was James's age. According to Rose, the thing with Lily and Myron was mostly physical (not that James had wanted to know that), but Myron wasn't the type to be "mostly physical" with just one witch. Merlin's left testicle, James hated Myron Davies.

"Look, Lils," James said soothingly, placing his hand over hers on the table. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world—if you don't count Vic or Dom. Or Liz. Anyway, you're feisty and smart and you deserve so much better than Davies. Why do you do this to yourself?"

Big black tears were wreaking havoc with Lily's makeup. "When it's good, James—"

"It's just a show," James asserted. "He takes you out and showers you in gifts and makes you feel special. Then he cheats on you three days later. It's been the same for years, Lily, and it's not going to change."

Lily sniffed. "I know," she whispered.

"Then why do you put yourself through this?"

"I don't know anymore. I used to think I was in love with him, you know?"

"Why don't I go around his place when I get off. I'll hex his bollocks off, how would that be?"

Lily looked at him for a long moment, obviously trying to decide if he was being serious or not. Finally, she shook her head. "No, just leave him alone."

"Funny, that's the same thing I was going to say to you."

Just then, Lainey Longbottom showed up at James's elbow. She placed a plate of pork pie and a mug of pumpkin juice before him. The youngest Longbottom girl was regarding him with disdain.

"Where's Liz?" James asked.

"In a different section," Lainey replied shortly. "Mum said we weren't allowed to let you starve."

"What have you done now, Jamie?" Lily asked.

"He had to break his plans with Liz because he couldn't keep his big, fat mouth shut," Lainey answered.

"Oh, James," Lily groaned. "You are the worst."

"No," James shot back. "That's Davies."

Lily blushed, looking a bit cowed.

"Mum also sent me to fetch you, Lily," Lainey said, pulling James's little sister from her chair.

Lainey led Lily over to Hannah, who enveloped the youngest Potter child into a big hug. With Lily's head against her shoulder, Hannah wiped her face clean with a bar rag, all the while murmuring into the girl's ear. Hannah was good at the nurturing mother thing. Looking around, James spotted his wife carrying three tankards of ale above her head. She nodded to him, her mouth pinched up in the corners.

James decided to count that as a smile.

11:30 p.m.

"Happy Christmas, Freddie!"

Under a street lamp, in the back courtyard of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, a tall black man in the lime green robes of the medi-witch stood just outside the door, his hands folded around a cup of tea. When he saw James coming, Freddie grinned and shook his head. One thing about Freddie, he was always glad to see James.

"I see no bandages or IVs of potions," Freddie commented. "I reckon that means you aren't here for your own sake."

"I had to break up a pub fight on Knockturn Alley," James said. "A few of the brawlers came away the worst for wear."

"Well, I'm glad you're in one piece."

James stuffed his hands into his pockets, his breath hanging on the cold air. "I do wish it would snow. What's Christmas without snow?"

"What do I care? My parents are in Greece, my sister and her husband are in France for a friendly match with the Toulon team, and I'll be sleeping the day away."

"I reckon," James muttered.

Freddie glanced at him. "Cheer up, James, our real Christmas is still to come anyways."

James thought of the New Year's Christmas at the Burrow and grinned. That was absolutely his favorite day of the year. Gran had all that food, he'd get a new jumper, and there was almost always snow.

"So, you're alone for Christmas?" James asked. "You could come around our flat. I'm sure Liz wouldn't mind."

"Did I say I was alone?" Freddie asked with a sly smile.

"Oh, is a certain Healer Thomas on speaking terms with you again?"

"Parminder doesn't like me for my skill as an orator." He smirked. "Though she does appreciate my oral skills."

James chuckled. "She'd hex you if—"

"And that's why you'll keep your gob shut, Potter, or I might have to tell Liz that I know how she likes it in her old room at the Leaky during every family supper."

"Oi! Shut it!" James felt a blush rage across his face to rival his robes.

Freddie chuckled.

"Lizzie isn't speaking to me anyway."

"It won't last long," Freddie assured him. "It never does. If you were going to run her off, she'd be long gone by know."

"I'm a real idiot, you know? When am I going to grow up?" James kicked a pebble across the courtyard.

"Well, you are an idiot," Freddie said. "But who says you're not grownup? You have a very grownup job—which you're good at, and don't let anybody tell you differently. You're a husband, which is about as grownup as it gets, and you pay bills. What more is there to this whole adult thing?"

"Kids."

"Has Liz's biological clock kicked in?"

"No. Our mums. Er, not their biological clocks. Just, they want grandkids."

"Do you want kids?"

James looked up at the snowless sky. "Hell, I don't know. Is the timing right? Is there ever a right time? We'd have to buy a bigger flat, or maybe a house. Would Liz stay home with him, or-or her?"

"You could stay home with him." At the incredulous look on James's face, Freddie merely smirked. "Why not? Roxy's husband stays at home with their sprog so she can chuck a Quaffle for a living."

"See. This whole baby thing is much too complicated."

"Then do it on your time," Freddie advised. "You are James Potter, after all, when have you ever done something to please someone else? Unless that someone else was Lizzie, of course."

James chuckled, feeling better for having spoken to his cousin.

1:00 a.m.

James finished his paperwork, then added it to the pile on the filing clerk's desk. There were a few Aurors milling around the squad room, mostly those who were preparing to head home for the night, third shift already out in the field. It wasn't lost on James that he was one of the most senior men on this Christmas Eve shift—except one.

"Good work tonight," Wood said, as he deposited his own parchment into the 'In' bin.

"You've been working this job for what—more than a decade?" James asked.

"Aye, I was a year behind Lupin," Wood replied.

"Why do you still work these godforsaken holiday shifts? Did you piss somebody off? Is there something, or somebody, I should be avoiding to escape this fate?"

Wood eyed him for a moment before almost smiling. "Potter, I make up the schedules. The person I should be avoiding is myself."

"Then why—"

"Because I volunteer," Wood replied. "I don't have a wife, no little bairns to watch open gifts. I reckon I should work these shifts and let the family men be at home with their loved ones."

"Huh." James looked at his C.O. more closely. "So, what's with you and Mol?"

Wood chuckled, but shook his head. "Happy Christmas, Potter."

2 a.m.

"Did you wait up for me?"

James closed the door to their flat behind him, hanging his work robes on the coat rack by the door. Snuggled under a tartan blanket, Liz was curled up in the chair by the fire with a book. Going to kneel by her side, James wondered if he'd get lucky enough to discover she was naked under that blanket. Or better yet, in lingerie. That would make for a very happy Christmas.

"Do you forgive me for ruining our plans?" James asked.

"I always do," Liz replied dryly, but she ran her fingers through his hair.

James leaned his head against her middle. "I really am sorry, one of these times I'm going to be the man you deserve."

"What makes you think I would be with you all these years if you were anything less?" Liz demanded, swinging her legs around to sit up. "I'm stronger than that, and you are better than you think."

"But I'm such an idiot!"

"It's part of your charm."

"You weren't planning to disagree with the 'idiot' part?"

"I don't exist to massage your ego, James."

James laid his head in Liz's lap. "I was afraid of that."

"Jamie," she said, stroking her fingers through his hair. "Remember Freddie's Halloween party."

"Not really. I think I'm still hung over."

Liz laughed shortly. "Yes, I think that's the problem. We were both properly pissed that night. Do you remember the, um, broom shed?"

James looked up, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Do I ever."

"Well." Liz took a deep breath. Her cheeks were faintly red, and she looked like she might pass out.

"Liz, are you okay? Should I call your mum? Or my mum?"

"No, no. It's just…I was planning for us to have this big romantic night so I could, um, break the news to you."

"Lizzie?"

"I'm pregnant."

"With a baby?"

"There's an off chance that it's a Mandrake, but more than likely it's a baby."

James sat back on his hunches. "Do-do you suppose one of our mothers has something to do with it?"

"I don't know what Harry told you about how babies are made, James, but generally it takes one man and one woman, and their mothers aren't involved."

"No. I mean—never mind!"

They stared at one another for a moment. James's mind was so perfectly blank that he couldn't have rubbed two thoughts together. He reckoned this ended the debate of whether or not he was grownup enough to be a father. It was rather a case of ready or not, wasn't it?'

"Are-are you angry about it?" Liz whispered.

"What?" James stood, scooped Liz into his arms and sat on the chair with her in his lap. "I'm stunned. I'm a bit worried. Remember all those afternoons we'd play house as kids? And I'd be your husband and we'd have a score of babies."

"Those are some of my happiest memories," Liz said quietly, resting her hand on his chest.

"Mine, too. So let's do it for real."

Liz picked up her wand from the side table, pointing it straight up and twirling it around. Light, shimmering snowflakes danced through the air, landing on their cheeks and noses. The snowflakes weren't cold, just fluffy as they piled up around the chair.

"What's this?" James asked.

"It's Christmas. There should be snow on Christmas."

"I love you, Mrs. Potter."

Merry Christmas!