A/N: All characters belong to Ms Rowling. Sorry if it's terribly mindless. It started out as merely a simple grammar excercise, but it kind of slipped out of my hands from there...

Of Nonsensical Christmas Tête-à-Têtes

By Princess Kate

‘Er- Sirius, are you sure that’s how the story goes?’ Peter looked concerned.

James, however, had other problems on his mind. ‘But a doornail was never alive, was it? So how can anyone be as dead as one? It doesn’t make sense.’

Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Are you going to let me read the story or what?’

‘I think there’s an ‘or what’ on order here,’ said Lily, reaching over and plucking the book out of his hands. ‘Severus Snape is not a character in A Christmas Carol, nor is he dead as a doornail or anything else.’

‘Unfortunately,’ Sirius grimaced.

Lily rolled her eyes and began to read. ‘Jacob Marley was dead-’

‘Don't say as a doornail,’ James cautioned. ‘It's impossible.’

‘You guys are impossible!’ She tossed the book on the couch beside her. ‘Next holiday I’m going home. Even Petunia is better than this.’

Sirius shrugged. ‘You’d miss us if we weren’t around.’

‘Well, some of us at least.’ Remus gave his friend a dry smile.

‘No one asked you, Moony,’ said Sirius irritably.

Remus merely shrugged and reached over for the book.

‘So how does the story end?’ asked James. ‘What happens to Jacob Marley?’

‘As he’s dead, I don’t imagine much,’ said Sirius, munching contemplatively on a Chocolate Frog.

Lily grinned. ‘Hardly. He comes back as a ghost, to warn his old business partner Ebenezer Scrooge that he’ll be visited by three spirits on Christmas Eve night-’

Peter gave a loud squeak. ‘Tonight’s Christmas Eve!’

‘Is your name Ebenezer Scrooge?’ asked Sirius, rolling his eyes.

Peter still looked scared. ‘You never know. Why was Ebenezer Scrooge visited?’

Lily gave him a grotesque grin. ‘He was horribly wicked. Would sell his grandmother’s soul if he thought it would turn a profit. And as we know, wicked people must always pay for their crimes.’

‘Oh,’ said Peter faintly. ‘I’m not as wicked as Ebenezer Scrooge, am I?’

‘I should certainly hope not.’ Lily looked pious.

‘I’m rather of the opposite opinion,’ said Sirius, growing bored with the conversation. ‘Let’s do something else. Anyone got any new toys for Christmas?’

Remus glanced at him from over the top of the book. ‘It’s only Christmas Eve. I don’t imagine anyone has opened their presents yet.’

Sirius looked astounded. ‘I’ve opened all of mine.’

‘Somehow I’m not surprised.’ James, for the moment at least, had given up trying explain Dickens’s illogical simile. ‘Anything good?’

Sirius sighed glumly. ‘No. My mother sent socks.’

‘Tragic.’ James smirked at Remus, both of whom seemed to find that development rather funny.

‘There’s nothing wrong with socks.’ Lily looked thoughtful. ‘I think when I have a children I shall give them socks every year. It’s a wonderful gift.’

‘Yeah.’ Sirius, however, didn’t look quite convinced.

‘Did you get anything else?’ asked Peter.

‘My brother sent me a Rhyming Dictionary. I think he thought it was funny.’

Remus raised an eyebrow. ‘Just what do you use a rhyming dictionary for?’

Sirius looked irritated. ‘To rhyme things.’

‘Makes sense.’ James grinned and reached over for the book Sirius had just pulled out, flipping through the pages idly. ‘I wonder what rhymes with

‘Lily.’

Lily thought for a moment. ‘James is very silly?’

James found the page. ‘I’ll write you a poem, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Lily looked pleased.

‘Er-,’ James studied the page intently for a moment. ‘Lily, Lily, she’s very-’

‘Hilly,’ Sirius supplied. He ducked to dodge Lily’s slap.

‘Lily, Lily,’ James continued, ‘she’s not very chilly. A pretty young filly. Er- Likes her pickles dilly.’

‘A most bewitching hillbilly.’ Sirius fancied that he was getting good at this. Better than James, at least. He told his friend so.

Lily looked cross. ‘I thought it was a perfectly wonderful poem.’

‘A moment earlier, you were saying socks were perfectly wonderful. I don’t think we can trust your judgement.’

James shrugged. ‘If you think you can do better, then do.’

Sirius took the offered book and began flipping through the book. ‘I’ll write a poem for, er, Remus.’

‘I’m honoured.’ Remus looked amused.

‘Well-,’ Sirius paused for a moment, looking at the page. ‘Er. There once was a werewolf named Remus. His brother was named Nicodemus. Those were the only two words, This poem’s gone to the birds… Pity for my dear friend Remus.’

Lily looked at James. ‘His was better than mine. I don’t even like pickles.’

‘I don’t have a brother,’ said Remus, who supposed it probably wasn’t worth mentioning.

‘Poetic license,’ remarked Sirius. He turned to James. ‘I don’t think you ought to give up your day job.’

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ James defended. ‘Besides, isn’t it the thought that counts…?’

Lily smiled at him. ‘Yes it is.’

‘My poem was heartfelt.’ Sirius tried to look sincere. ‘So heartfelt it made Peter teary-eyed. Right, Wormtail?’

‘Er- yeah. Teary-eyed. Is there any more of that fruitcake left?’

‘Yeah.’ Lily wrinkled her nose as she passed him some of the cake. ‘You’re the first person I’ve met who actually eats this stuff.’

James looked diffidently at the offending package. ‘Where did this come from?’

‘My mother again,’ answered Sirius. ‘She’s been giving me the same cake every year since I was ten.’

‘You rhymed again.’ Remus looked impressed.

Sirius put on a lofty expression. ‘I’m the Master Poet. And I- er- James, any ideas as to what rhymes with poet?’

‘Haven’t the foggiest.’

Sirius looked annoyed. ‘How is that different from the normal state of affairs?’

‘No,’ said Lily. ‘It’s normally a state of confusion.’

‘I prefer the state of Texas,’ nodded James.

‘Texas?’ Sirius looked confused. ‘What does that have to do with it?’

James shrugged. ‘I like the name. And it’s a state, isn’t it?’

They all looked expectantly at Remus, who answered irritably, ‘Like I’d know? I think so.’

‘Now you’re the one who's rhyming.’ Sirius looked pleased with his observation. ‘The problem with Texas is nothing rhymes it. I’d go crazy if I lived there.’

‘And so much rhymes with Britain?’ Lily looked skeptical.

‘Kitten.’ Sirius grinned. ‘Mitten. Bitten. Lichen.’

Remus raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, there you go.’

Sirius nodded, looking pleased. ‘Someone understands at least. I suppose poets are a rather misunderstood breed. The price we have to pay for our brilliance.’

‘I'm sure that’s it.’ James looked amused.

‘Any more cake left?’ Peter looked for the plate hopefully.

‘No,’ Lily looked severe. ‘And what’s more is that you’ re going to have a terrible stomach ache in the morning from eating all that mess.’

‘Well, it won’t matter until the morning then, will it?’ Sirius stood up. ‘Tommorrow he’ll have his stomach ache and you can lecture him to your heart’s content. Don’t bother with it tonight- Carpe Diem and all that rot.’

‘Spoken like a true poet,’ James smirked.

‘Oh, someday you’ll see,’ Sirius said airily. ‘But as for now shall we take ourselves to bed, visions of woollen socks dancing in our heads?’

He grinned towards Lily, who grinned back as she pulled herself up off the couch. ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with socks.’

Sirius merely shrugged and let the way up the stairs. ‘You'll be checking underneath your bed for stray spirits, tonight, Peter?’

Peter gave a large squeak and scurried the rest of the way up the stairs.

Lily grinned and took back the book Remus was handing to her. ‘God bless us, everyone.’

End

Personal Note: Would anyone here happen to know any good sources concerning werewolves? Whether an Internet Page or a book I could check

out from the library, I would really appreciate anyone who could point me in the right direction as to where to start my research. It would be so

wonderfully helpful!

--Kate