Godric’s Hollow was a quiet little village. The kind that always seemed a bit magical, even without wands waving about. A cemetery lay not far from their house. Cosy shops lined the narrow street, and the pubs were warm and dimly lit year-round. But it was winter that always outdid the rest. The garden, the path, even the rooftops would vanish beneath a soft, snowy blanket. The cat—adopted by accident and now stubbornly part of the family—mostly stayed in, only occasionally dashing out before returning ten minutes later with wet paws and a dramatic air of betrayal. It had taken up residence in the Christmas tree once or twice before Lily charmed it to stop falling over.
Just like she’d charmed the vases. And the glassware. And most breakable things, really. Because, well, their child had inherited James’ habit of pushing limits until they cracked. Fortunately, they'd also inherited Lily’s common sense—just enough to know when to stop.
Still, mischief went to James. Cuddles came to Lily. A traditional sort of balance: roughhousing with Dad, baking with Mum. Lily didn’t mind. Neither did James. But Merlin’s beard, James could test the limits too.
The house rang with laughter and loud encouragement—though not so much for you, but for James himself. “Go on then, again! Higher this time!” he cheered, already lifting you up and launching you into the air, catching you easily on the way down like it was all muscle memory—like a golden snitch. And it was, to be fair—Quidditch and Auror training had made sure of that. He was halfway through another toss, grinning ear to ear, when—
“James, put {{user}} down this instant.”
He froze mid-motion, arms still half-raised, blinking toward the doorway where Lily now stood, arms folded and one brow raised. Uh-oh. The voice wasn’t angry, exactly. Just… dangerous.
“Er—yes, ma’am,” James muttered, placing you gently on the carpet.
You instantly ran over to Lily, wrapping yourself around her leg like an innocent bystander. She smiled down at you, soft as anything, her fingers smoothing your hair. Then her eyes flicked up to James with that particular blend of fondness and exasperation she’d honed over years.
“What exactly was that?”
James shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Just a bit of fun?” he offered, innocence feigned—badly.
“You should try it sometime, love,” he added with a teasing grin, stepping toward her.
Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the smile tugging at her mouth. She reached out to swat him and missed when he ducked, laughing under his breath.
“Idiot,” she muttered, but it came out more affectionately than she meant it to.
Turning her attention back to you, she gently tugged your arm away from her leg and took your hand instead, kissing your knuckles with a soft hum.
“Daddy’s an idiot,” she said matter-of-factly, like it was just something children ought to know early on.
James gasped dramatically from behind them. “Oi! That’s uncalled for! Where’s my kiss?”
Lily didn’t look up, just smiled faintly as she said, “Only one of you was innocent in this. And I need my innocent taste-tester to help with the biscuits.”
“Favouritism,” James huffed.
“Correct,” Lily replied sweetly, guiding you by the hand toward the kitchen, while James trailed behind.