Just Another Christmas Dinner

Author: Abbey Road
Rating: PG-13
Archiving: All FQF will be archived solely at this site until January 30th, 2005. After that, it's yours to do with as you will.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not making any money from this story, and I don't intend to.
Challenge & Summary: Challenge #47: It's an apparently innocuous Christmas dinner, but there's a lot more going on underneath the surface than any one person realises. The challenge is to write the same scene four times--once for each of the Marauders--and without it getting monotonous!
Author Notes: Written for the SB/RL Celtic Moonstar FQF, challenge 47. Sorry, not my best work.

“You don’t do that to someone,” Remus yelled, slamming his cup down on the table so that his pumpkin juice slopped over his hand. “You don’t look at someone, and talk to someone, and share jokes and secrets with someone, and then betray someone so horribly by telling Snape about their one big secret, but then care for them and apologise and beg and touch, and expect nothing to have changed. You can’t turn up on their front door in the night and kiss them like you’ve got five seconds to live, and then pretend it didn’t happen, and never mention it again, but look at them sometimes with promise in your eyes – and then up and decide that you want someone else. You don’t do it. You can’t do it!”

He glared at Sirius and Sirius, accordingly, turned into a pillar of salt and crumbled into the bowl of mashed potatoes, which were a little bland that evening. And then the occupants of the table proceeded to eat the entire content the bowl, all the while savouring the distinct flavours of cad, frustrating bastard, and wretched miscreant.

None of this, of course, happened anywhere outside of Remus Lupin’s mind, as he ploddingly worked his way through a large serving of very dry, very tasteless mashed potatoes, and stared at the Charms text in front of him. He had not read a single word of it since he’d stomped into the Great Hall, propped it up against a candelabra, served himself dinner, and proceeded to ignore all of his tablemates while feigning great interest in his studies.

In Remus’ experience, Christmas had always been a tiresome affair. Very few presents, awful, distant relatives, and later years, after his father had died leaving him orphaned, no relatives or presents at all. Somehow, Christmas always managed to throw a ladle in the works, and ruin a perfectly good two week winter holiday. It seemed that Christmas had been out to get him from the very beginning. Something awful always happened to make Christmas an unpleasant affair, and it was no different that year.

Remus chewed haplessly on his string beans, and determined refused to think about the risotto in the bowl near Sirius. He was not going to ask Sirius to pass the bowl. He was not going to give Sirius the slightest inkling that he was upset. He was not even going to look at Sirius. He was going to sit there and force down his tepid potatoes and beans and beef, and look as though he were reading his book, and pretend that Sirius was not beautiful.

“Would you pass the risotto, Sirius?” James asked, glancing at the bowl that sat at Sirius’ elbow, and Sirius passed it over. Remus eyed the risotto covetously at James spooned it onto his plate.

“Could I have that, James?” Remus asked. He knew he was speaking in his Prefect’s voice, but he couldn’t help that; it kept him distant, and that was the only way he felt he could survive the meal.

Remus dealt a healthy serving onto his plate, feeling eyes upon him. He looked at up, and Snape glanced down at his meal. He had the same bland fair that Remus had, but Remus felt no compulsion to offer the bowl to Snape. Not after Snape had been responsible for the destruction of all of their Christmas presents. Peter, in the early hours of the morning, had seen him in the act him while he, James and Sirius had been sleeping.

Sirius and James had snuck down to the dungeons under the invisibility cloak and exacted revenge when Peter had told them what had happened. They had filled Snape’s cauldron with Chocolate Frogs and Glenda’s Great All-Purpose Gummy Glue, which would never come out. They had turned his box of Christmas chocolates into red and gold locusts; permanently shrunk some new underthings he had received by Owl Post; and ceremonially burned his prized Potions textbook. Remus thought it was unfair to shrink the underthings and destroy the school equipment of a boy who, it was common knowledge, could ill afford more. Despite that, he was loath to speak up about it to his friends.

“Could I have that, Remus?” Peter asked, and Remus handed the bowl over, conscious of Snape’s gaze following it.

At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall opened to admit two more patrons to the Great Hall. Lily Evans and her friend Paula sauntered in, and Lily cast a disgruntled sort of look in the direction of the Marauders, before pulling Paula over to sit away from them at the very end of the table.

“Alright, Evans?” asked James, peering hopefully down the table. Lily favoured him with an unimpressed look, and Snape snorted.

“Women, hey?” James said to Remus, smiling though his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“You’re never going to get anywhere, Prongs,” Sirius said, as he usually did. “Don’t you think, Moony?” he asked, and Remus frowned. Sirius often became garrulous when he was nervous, and if he was nervous, then Remus could well imagine that the cause of his nerves was sitting at the end of the table, talking with Lily. The thought made his stomach clench unpleasantly.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should be quiet about it,” James muttered. “Or,” he continued, “Maybe you could put in a good word for me, you know?”

Sirius stared at him. “Do you honestly think that I’m going to start talking to Evans for you after you’ve already asked me fifty-three thousand times and I’ve refused?” he asked. “What’s so special about this time? Fifty-three thousand and one your lucky number or something?”

“No,” James replied, “It’s just that you seem to be in Paula’s good books, and, you know, you might do a mate a favour. Just – mention me a few times tonight, make me look good.”

Sirius froze. “What do you mean, mention you a few times tonight?” he asked. Remus felt ill.

“Well, you know,” said James, inclining his head toward Paula, and wiggling his eyebrows significantly. Sirius pursed his lips.

“Come on,” said James, rolling his eyes.

“You’re going up to the Gryffindor attic with Paula tonight,” Peter piped up, chewing on a mouthful of carrot as he did so, “We’ve all seen you talking to her and doing homework with her and stuff. And James said he saw you taking candles and things up there, before, to prepare for- well, you know.” Sirius flushed, and glared at Peter, who ducked his head.

Remus, for his part, almost choked on his risotto. He had known that Sirius was interested in Paula, and he had known that Sirius was preparing something for that night, but he had not known that it had gone so far as setting up attics for romantic rendezvous that might lead to kissing and touching and…it didn’t bear thinking about.

“Yes,” said James, “So seeing as it’s going so well with you two, I think that it’s only fair that you look out for others.” “I don’t think we should talk about this when they might be able to hear us,” Sirius said, his gaze flicking to Lily and Paula.

“Sirius,” Peter said, “are you going to kiss Paula tonight?” He watched Sirius, awe written all over his face, and Remus wondered briefly how good living vicariously really was, and if Paula would mind if he did it through her.

“Shut up,” Sirius said, into his cup of pumpkin juice.

Peter, undeterred, leaned forward in his chair, and stage-whispered, “Are you going to get to second base with her?”

“I said ‘shut up,’ Wormtail,” Sirius said.

Peter gasped excitedly. “You’re going to go all the way, aren’t you?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Sirius banged his cup down onto the table, and Remus jumped.

“That’s none of your business,” Sirius said. Remus felt as though he had been punched in the gut.

He wondered if he should visit Madame Pomfrey, because surely he could not be healthy when his hands were shaking so, and his throat was parched, and the thumping of his heartbeat seemed deafening in his ears. It all must be symptomatic of some dreadful illness, because it was impossible that he could feel so ghastly over a friend getting a girlfriend. Even if that friend had been very close, and had arrived unannounced over the summer holidays and pulled him from his doorway and pinned him to a wall covered with climbing ivy and kissed him so well that he had been breathless and guileless and needy. Even if that friend smiled often, and seemed to glow in the afternoon sunlight on the Quidditch pitch, and laughed loudly, and sometimes spoke softly and seriously, and had no regard for study but did exceedingly well nonetheless. Even if that friend was Sirius Black.

“Well, we won’t wait up for you, anyway,” James smirked, and nudged Sirius with his elbow.

“Shut up, will you?” Sirius said. “I don’t need everyone hearing about it.” He met Remus’ gaze, and Remus looked away quickly.

“Everyone already knows about your shameless decadence, Black,” Snape said, “Your sins of the flesh. Your fornication. You disgust us all.”

“You’re only disgusted because you couldn’t get anyone to sleep with you if you paid them half of Gringotts,” Sirius shot back, “Not that you’ve got half of Gringotts, do you, Snivellus? Or even two galleons to rub together?” Snape’s eyes flashed.

“At least I’ve two brain cells to rub together,” Snape said, glaring, and James, who was sitting next to him at Dumbledore’s behest, shoved him angrily. Snape must have kicked James under the table, because James leapt away, knocking Sirius whose fork went flying from his hand and fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Boys,” said Dumbledore warningly, from the head of the table, and then went back to his meal.

Sirius reached over the table and took one of Peter’s forks. He resumed his meal in silence, seeming disgruntled, playing absently with a lock of hair that hung long over his ears. Remus did not realise the he was transfixed on the spectacle before he heard a burst of giggles, and swivelled his head around to see Lily and Paula whispering together, Paula casting covetous glances at Sirius. He put down his fork, unable to eat any more.

“Is it time for Pudding, do you think?” asked Dumbledore merrily, clapping his hands. The half-eaten meals and dirty dishes on the table disappeared, and bowls containing steaming mounds of pudding materialised. “Dig in,” Dumbledore encouraged, picking up how own desert spoon.

Remus noticed that James exchanged a shifty glance with Sirius, but was still surprised when, some moments later, Snape cried out in pain. Snape had both of his hands clutched over his mouth, and was studying his pudding in confusion.

“What’s wrong, Snivellus?” asked James, “Did your pudding bite back?”

Peter snickered loudly, and Snape stood up, wiping blood away from his lip with a starched napkin. He said nothing as he watched James with eyes full of anger and contempt, and, Remus was almost certain, hurt. James was grinning widely, as was Sirius, and as Snape turned and walked out of the Great Hall alone, Remus felt a surge of anger for the pair of them. He had had quite enough for one day.

“I’m going,” said Remus, pushing his bowl away. He stood and, shoving his hands into his pocket, made for the exit.

“Remus – wait!” Sirius called after him, but he did not look around. He did not want to face James with his pranks, and Sirius with his cruel grin, and Paula and Lily with their girlish giggles and wiles and beautiful boyfriends. Remus slipped out into the corridor, resolving to make for his bed as quickly as possible, pull his curtains, seal them with a locking charm, and not reappear until morning.

Christmas, Remus decided, could get utterly, utterly stuffed.

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“Padfoot,” said Sirius, nudging James, “Look, it’s Lily. Padfoot!”

James glanced up from his meal, and saw that Lily was sauntering toward him across the Great Hall. She was wearing brief robes that clung artfully to her body, exposing tantalising expanses of flesh, yet hiding expanses of flesh that were even more tantalising for being out of view. She pushed Remus and Peter aside, putting her palms flat on the surface of the table, leaning forward so that her cleavage bulged. She looked James directly in the eye.

“I am in love with you,” said Lily, “I have been in love with you for the past five years, but just couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I have decided to swallow my foolish pride, and admit my burning, burning desire for your body. Please, come with me now so that we may have much sex in every room of this school.”

James gulped. “Ok,” he said.

This, unfortunately, did not actually happen. James sighed and prodded at his lump of mashed potatoes in dismay; they were dry and bland and dreadful. Looking up, he surveyed the nearby occupants of the table; Sirius seemed tense, and occupied by his own thoughts, while Remus was clearly upset about something, and was absorbed in his reading. Peter was munching on his food like a child, eating exactly what James was eating at the same time. James, rather than being annoyed by it, relished the influence he had on the other boy.

It was a dreary old Christmas. James wasn’t used to such morbid occasions – in the Potter household, Christmas was a bright and joyous affair, with the best of food, and decorations and presents abounding. His parents had offered to have he and Sirius over, since Sirius had left his own parent’s house over the summer holidays and had nowhere to which he could return, but James had rescinded the invitation when he had seen Lily’s name on the list of those who were to remain at Hogwarts over the break.

Things were not going as he would have preferred. The Marauders had awoken that morning to Peter’s tale that Snape had broken in to the Gryffindor dormitory – James had yet to figure out how he had achieved such a feat – and had destroyed all of their Christmas presents. James was not overly concerned about the presents he had had for his friends, or was going to receive from them – Quidditch books, Zonko’s pranks and Honeyduke’s sweets could all easily be replaced. However, the small piece of jewellery that he had purchased for Lily from a Muggle shop in London many months ago could not. He had had hopes of getting her attention with that jewellery, and it had not come cheap. Consequently, he had taken great delight in the punishments that he and Sirius had exacted upon Snape.

Red and gold locusts, indeed – it had been such fun to peer around a corner and watch Snape as he opened his box of chocolates, and a flock of insects flew into his face. He had seemed genuinely disappointed when he had unwrapped his shrunken undershorts and thermal tops, and James had laughed mightily when he saw that Snape had received no other presents. Imagine – Snape only got boring things like underclothing for Christmas; James could hardly believe that there were people who did not awake to a mountain of shining, gaily-wrapped gifts of toys and games and books. He might even have felt some small remorse if Snape had not been the reason that he had no gifts of his own. An eye for an eye, and all that. Well, perhaps a bit more than an eye, considering what they had done to Snape’s precious cauldron and Potions book.

James felt he could not withstand another bite of his dreadful meal. He glanced around the table for other options, and caught sight of a bowl of risotto by Sirius. “Would you pass the risotto, Sirius?” he asked, and Sirius mutely handed it over.

He spooned some of the rice onto his plate, wondering at the tension radiating from Sirius. Sirius had been quiet and anxious since the beginning of the meal. James rather thought that it must have been because he was planning to bed that Paula friend of Lily’s later in the evening. At least, it looked that way, as he had seen Sirius ascending to the attic with candles and flowers and whatnot. James was not happy to admit that he was jealous – he would have given a great deal to be in the same position with Lily.

“Could I have that, James?” Remus asked. He was using his Prefect’s voice, James noted. Remus couldn’t be angry with him about Snape, could he? Remus got a bit funny about teasing Snape, sometimes.

Peter was fairly vibrating with the desire to get hold of the risotto. “Could I have that, Remus?” he asked, eyeing it lustfully. James took a bite of his risotto just to see Peter become even more agitated in his impatience for Remus to hurry up and finish, so that he could follow suit.

He was distracted from all thoughts of Peter when the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and Lily came strolling in. She looked like a goddess in a cloud of perfume, perfect, and beautiful, and graceful in every way. James wanted get up and escort her to a seat. He wanted to sit down beside her, and talk with her, and pour her drinks, and touch her hand, and tell her how well she looked while she blushed. He wanted to kiss her, and share his personal space with her, and have everyone else green with envy at their intimacy.

He noticed that Paula was with her, too. Perhaps she would want to sit with Sirius, and then he could sit with Lily, and Christmas might improve exponentially. It was a nice thought. “Alright, Evans?” James said, smiling his best smile. Lily favoured him with her ‘you are vile and your existance turns my delicate stomach’ look, and sat as far away from him as possible. Snape snorted derisively, and James gritted his teeth.

”Women, hey?” he said, smiling jauntily up at Remus. He had the terrible feeling his embarrassment was evident, and he felt like a complete git.

“You’re never going to get anywhere, Prongs,” said Sirius, although he always said that, and James never lost hope. “Don’t you think, Moony?” Sirius asked, looking very hopefully at Remus across the table. Remus only frowned in response, and James wondered if there had been words between the two.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should be quiet about it,” James muttered, not wanting Snape to get in on the conversation. “Or,” he continued, “Maybe you could put in a good word for me, you know?” It was worth a try.

Sirius stared at him. “Do you honestly think that I’m going to start talking to Evans for you after you’ve already asked me fifty-three thousand times and I’ve refused?” he asked. “What’s so special about this time? Fifty-three thousand and one your lucky number or something?”

“No,” James replied, “It’s just that you seem to be in Paula’s good books, and, you know, you might do a mate a favour. Just – mention me a few times tonight, make me look good.”

Sirius looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “What do you mean, mention you a few times tonight?” he asked.

“Well, you know,” said James, inclining his head toward Paula, and wiggling his eyebrows significantly. Sirius was either confused or unimpressed. James rolled his eyes; Sirius was getting prudish over Paula, or didn’t understand what a wiggling eyebrow meant. It was ridiculous in either circumstance, given Sirius’ history with women.

“Come on,” he pleaded.

“You’re going up to the Gryffindor attic with Paula tonight,” Peter put in from the peanut gallery. “We’ve all seen you talking to her and doing homework with her and stuff. And James said he saw you taking candles and things up there, before, to prepare for- well, you know.” Sirius flushed, and glared at Peter. If Sirius was blushing, James thought, it must be love.

“Yes,” said James, seconding Peter’s words. “So seeing as it’s going so well with you two, I think that it’s only fair that you look out for others.”

“I don’t think we should talk about this when they might be able to hear us,” Sirius said. He looked uneasily at Paula and Lily, and James smiled to himself, wondering if Paula didn’t know about his evening plans yet. That would be just Sirius’ style, the smooth, cunning bastard.

“Sirius,” Peter said, “are you going to kiss Paula tonight?” He was wide-eyed, almost drooling in anticipation. James felt sorry for poor Peter, who couldn’t get a lick of action, but loved to hear about his friend’s misadventures. And James loved telling him.

“Shut up,” Sirius said. He sounded as though he meant business.

Peter leaned forward in his chair like an eager puppy, and stage-whispered, “Are you going to get to second base with her?”

“I said ‘shut up,’ Wormtail,” Sirius said.

Peter was overjoyed. “You’re going to go all the way, aren’t you?” he asked, breathlessly. Sirius slammed his cup down on the table, and James noticed that Remus was startled. Had there been more than words exchanged between them, he wondered. He would never have guessed that Sirius and Remus would come to blows.

“That’s none of your business,” Sirius said, all but confirming Peter’s question. Remus paled, and set aside his fork with an air of finality. James, suddenly, had an inkling that the cause of the friction between them might be Paula. Paula was relatively popular amongst the Gryffindors – perhaps Remus had wanted her for himself. James felt quite bad for him, if that was the case; it was difficult to win out against Sirius’ quick, charming smile, good conversation, and excellent looks. If Lily hadn’t hated Sirius as much as she hated James, James certainly would have felt threatened by him.

“Well, we won’t wait up for you, anyway,” James smirked, and nudged Sirius with his elbow. There was no sense in showing his jealousy; James would want all the details on the morrow. Imagine, Sirius being the first one to lose his virginity. James had always considered that it would be himself.

“Shut up, will you?” Sirius said. “I don’t need everyone hearing about it.” He looked around shiftily.

“Everyone already knows about your shameless decadence, Black,” Snape said, “Your sins of the flesh. Your fornication. You disgust us all.” James wanted to break his haughty, insolent nose.

“You’re only disgusted because you couldn’t get anyone to sleep with you if you paid them half of Gringotts,” Sirius said, “Not that you’ve got half of Gringotts, do you, Snivellus? Or even two galleons to rub together?” Snape’s eyes flashed.

“At least I’ve two brain cells to rub together,” Snape said, and James, in a fit of temper, shoved him as hard as he could without much leverage. Snape glanced him a blow to the shin, under the table, and James jumped away to avoid being struck again. He collided with Sirius, whose fork went flying.

“Boys,” said Dumbledore. James afforded him an apologetic grin, and he turned back to his meal. James was thankful to his parents once again for having given him what could only be described as stylish charisma. Snape and Peter both lacked it in abundance, lacked it in direct proportion to the amount of trouble they could not apologetically grin their way out of.

James heard Lily and Paula whispering, and turned to watch them. Lily looked lovely when she laughed and talked, and didn’t know he could see her. She toyed absently with her spoon, and James followed the curves of her fingers with longing eyes. Paula glanced at Sirius with outright lust, and James’ innards tightened with envy.

“Is it time for Pudding, do you think?” asked Dumbledore. With a clap of his hands the reprehensible main course disappeared, and James resolved to tell his mother to make Christmas extra-big the next year, to make up for the miserable excuse for one that he was currently having. Large bowls of pudding appeared on the table, and, with an almost silent incantation, and a clandestine wave of his wand, James sent a wave of magic toward Snape’s serving. “Dig in,” Dumbledore encouraged. James nodded at Sirius, and Sirius broke into a grin.

Snape’s cry of pain was a thing of beauty. In fact, the sound of Snape in pain was so beautiful it was second only to everything that was Lily Evans. James could hardly contain his delight when Snape clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes watering.

“What’s wrong, Snivellus?” asked James, unable to resist. “Did your pudding bite back?”

Peter snickered loudly, and Snape stood up. Obviously, Snape thought it was beneath himself to reply, and James was momentarily disappointed that they would not enter into a verbal sparring match. He could usually win arguments with Snape, because Snape’s temper was easily lost at James’ abundant, and self-admittedly brilliant, sarcasm. His disappointment fled, however, when Snape wiped his lips with his napkin and it came away stained with blood; it was replaced with sheer euphoria .

Snape turned and walked out of the Great Hall, taking the napkin with him. James was a little put-put by that, having briefly entertained the prospect of having such a thing framed and hung in the Gryffindor common room. He would certainly have been the hero of the day, if he had managed that.

“I’m going,” said Remus. Abruptly, he got up from his chair, and slunk quickly away to the exit. James was annoyed that Remus did not seem happy about the prank, when Peter was plainly in raptures over it. Perhaps Remus was feeling like too much of a Prefect that day to have any fun. James shrugged inwardly. Remus could be so tiresomely funny about teasing Snape.

“Remus – wait!” Sirius called. James turned to ask Sirius what he was doing, but he was already out of his chair and dashing after Remus. Odd, that – never mind, hopefully Sirius would go after Remus and calm him down, maybe even get the Paula issue resolved. Or, preferably, he would chase Snape down to the dungeons, shooting bluebell flames at him like bullets in a Muggle war. James smiled to himself, and turned to watch Lily eat her pudding. He would finish his own, and then go after Sirius. After all, it was no use leaving straight away, if there was going to be a fight happening. Best to let things settled first.

Merlin, Lily was beautiful.

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“Peter,” said James, “Sirius is an arsehole, and you’re really great. You’re my new best friend.”

“Shut up, James,” Sirius said, with a glare in James’ direction, “You’re the arsehole, and I want Peter as my best friend.”

“Peter really is pretty great, isn’t he?” Remus put in, giving up looking at his book to grant all of his attention to Peter.

“Yes,” Lily agreed, “That’s why I want him to be my boyfriend. I love you, Peter. Not James. James never had a chance. It was always you.”

“Oh,” said Peter, nodding happily, “Good.”

Lily walked over a planted herself in his lap, and then Remus, and James, and Sirius all crowded around him, patting him on the back, and congratulating him on being everyone’s favourite person ever.

It went without saying, however, that none of that happened outside of Peter’s imagination. However, he thought it terribly unfair that that was the case.

He was glad to be at Hogwart’s for Christmas. He had been afraid that James was going to leave, taking Sirius with him, and Peter had dropped many hints that he, too, would like to have been invited to the Potter household. They, however, had gone unacknowledged. When James had opted to stay at Hogwarts, Peter had been overjoyed that he wouldn’t be forced to spend two lonely weeks with no one for company but boring, old Remus. Well, Remus, to be fair, could be as fun as the other two, sometimes, but he didn’t play Quidditch, and he didn’t care overmuch about pulling pranks on the Slytherins, and he was more interested in his homework than playing fifty successive games of Exploding Snap. And besides, he wasn’t anywhere near as cool or sophisticated at James Potter, and therefore, was inferior company.

Peter gave Remus a sidelong glance, noting the tension emanating from him, the slight frown set upon his forehead. Imagine not even being able to enjoy himself at a Christmas dinner – Peter was once again grateful not to have been left alone with him. James speared a carrot, and Peter quickly swallowed his mouthful of beef, and did the same. He liked to keep up with James; James seemed to eat the contents of his plate in a good order. He hoped that James had noticed and approved.

“Would you pass the risotto, Sirius?” James asked, and Peter sat up straighter in his chair, waiting to ask James for the bowl.

“Could I have that, James?” Remus asked. Peter damned him inwardly for getting there first.

“Could I have that, Remus?” Peter asked. As he waited, he watched James take a bite of his risotto, and squirmed impatiently. Peter wanted to frown at Remus for taking an eternity with the bowl, but he did not dare.

Just then, Lily and Paula came walking into the Great Hall. Peter watched them both with an admiring eye as they took seats at the far end of the table. They were both so pretty. Lily more so than Paula, but that didn’t mean that Peter did not feel a twinge of jealousy for Sirius. Paula was plainly attracted to him, and Sirius and Paula were often to be found helping each other with homework in the common room. James had also told him, earlier, than he had seen Sirius preparing the Gryffindor attic for a special meeting with Paula. Peter was envious over, and tantalised by, the idea in equal measures. He wished he had a girlfriend for whom he could prepare rooms with flowers, and steal away with to secret, midnight appointments.

“Alright, Evans?” asked James. Peter was impressed by his suavity. Lily, of course, turned her nose up at it. It was her loss, thought Peter.

“Women, hey?” James said, and Peter nodded enthusiastically, even though James was looking at Remus.

“You’re never going to get anywhere, Prongs,” Sirius said. “Don’t you think, Moony?” he asked Remus. Peter was a little annoyed that Sirius wasn’t trying to include him in the conversation, when clearly he was paying attention to it, and Remus was not.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should be quiet about it,” James muttered. “Or,” he continued, “Maybe you could put in a good word for me, you know?” He gave Sirius a hopefully look, and so did Peter.

“Do you honestly think that I’m going to start talking to Evans for you after you’ve already asked me fifty-three thousand times and I’ve refused?” he asked. “What’s so special about this time? Fifty-three thousand and one your lucky number or something?”

“No,” James replied, “It’s just that you seem to be in Paula’s good books, and, you know, you might do a mate a favour. Just – mention me a few times tonight, make me look good.” James was full of brilliant ideas! Peter sometimes wondered how he managed to come up with them all.

“What do you mean, mention you a few times tonight?” Sirius asked. Peter could see that James was becoming a little frustrated, and he himself couldn’t understand why Sirius would play dumb.

“Well, you know,” said James, inclining his head toward Paula, and wiggling his eyebrows significantly. Peter grinned at James, who wasn’t looking.

“Come on,” said James, rolling his eyes. Peter felt he couldn’t take Sirius’ games anymore either, and decided to help out.

“You’re going up to the Gryffindor attic with Paula tonight,” he said, “We’ve all seen you talking to her and doing homework with her and stuff. And James said he saw you taking candles and things up there, before, to prepare for- well, you know.” Sirius flushed, and glared at Peter, who ducked his head.

That confirmed it, for Peter. There was going to be a meeting with Paula, and Sirius was going to talk to her, and kiss her, and maybe even get his hand inside her top, and…perhaps they would go even further. Peter felt he had to know all the details.

“Yes,” said James, and Peter glowed. “So seeing as it’s going so well with you two, I think that it’s only fair that you look out for others.”

“I don’t think we should talk about this when they might be able to hear us,” Sirius said. Peter couldn’t stand to see Sirius so closed-mouth about everything. He usually had no problem sharing what he had done and with whom, and Sirius had had more girlfriends than Peter could count on both hands. Of course, it had never gone past kissing and a little bit of touching, but maybe this time, because it was the big one, the final frontier, what none of them had ever done before – sexual intercourse – he was feeling reticent. Never mind – Peter would coax it out of him.

“Sirius,” Peter said, “are you going to kiss Paula tonight?” He watched Sirius eagerly, hoping that perhaps Sirius wouldn’t mind telling, if it were bit-by-bit, rather than outright.

“Shut up,” Sirius said, but Peter was undeterred.

Peter, thinking that perhaps Sirius was mindful of Paula overhearing, whispered very quietly, “Are you going to get to second base with her?”

“I said ‘shut up,’ Wormtail,” Sirius said.

Peter gasped, unable to contain his excitement. “You’re going to go all the way, aren’t you?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Sirius banged his cup down onto the table, and Peter wanted to crow in triumph. That was confirmation if nothing else was.

“That’s none of your business,” Sirius said. Peter could hardly wait to hear about it!

“Well, we won’t wait up for you, anyway,” James smirked, and nudged Sirius with his elbow. Peter laughed at James’ inuendo.

“Shut up, will you?” Sirius said. “I don’t need everyone hearing about it.”

“Everyone already knows about your shameless decadence, Black,” Snape said, “Your sins of the flesh. Your fornication. You disgust us all.”

“You’re only disgusted because you couldn’t get anyone to sleep with you if you paid them half of Gringotts,” Sirius shot back, “Not that you’ve got half of Gringotts, do you, Snivellus? Or even two galleons to rub together?” Peter wanted to applaud; he did so love it when Sirius and James got into tussles with Snape. It was so much fun to see Snape continually come off second best, despite his best efforts. Peter was once more thankful that he had fought with the sorting hat, all those years ago, and managed to avoid Slytherin, otherwise it might have been himself in Snape’s place.

“At least I’ve two brain cells to rub together,” Snape said. Peter watched in delight as James shoved Snape, silently cheering him on. Snape did something to James under the table, and James jumped away, knocking Sirius whose fork went flying. Peter was privy to James and Sirius’ plans, and Snape was definitely going to pay for that one when the pudding came out.

“Boys,” said Dumbledore warningly, and Peter quickened with fear for a moment.

Sirius reached over the table and to appropriate one of Peter’s forks, and Peter swelled with pride that it should be his fork that Sirius should chose, and not James’ or Remus’. He looked around a trifle smugly, to see if anyone else had noticed. All eyes seemed to be fixed upon Lily and Paula, who were giggling and chatting together. Peter thought, once again, that Lily Evans really was the best looking girl in school.

“Is it time for Pudding, do you think?” asked Dumbledore, and with a clap of his hands, bowls of hot Christmas pudding appeared. Peter picked up his spoon eagerly. “Dig in,” Dumbledore encouraged, and Peter did just that.

Snape, of a sudden, cried out in pain, and Peter had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. He had known that James and Sirius had planned to hex Snape’s pudding so that he would bite him back, but it was still a thrill when it happened.

“What’s wrong, Snivellus?” asked James, “Did your pudding bite back?” Peter laughed.

Peter watched Snape as he wiped blood away from his lip, jubilant. He wondered if Snape was going to pull his wand and start throwing curses at James and Sirius. If Dumbledore were there, perhaps he would even get himself expelled. Peter would have loved to see that particular scene unfold.

Disappointingly, Snape did nothing but walk out. How cowardly Snape was, Peter thought, unable or unwilling even to stand up for himself in the face of such antagonism. Peter would have thought that after a day like Snape had been having, considering all the wonderful pranks that James and Sirius had pulled on him, he would have had a bit more spark about him. Snape was, clearly, a vapid idiot.

And Peter knew that Snape had good reason to be angry. Even if Snape had actually broken into the Gryffindor tower and dispatched all of their Christmas gifts, as Peter had claimed, James and Sirius had gotten their rightful revenge, and then kept going. Snape should rightly want to fight back. It made Peter grumpy that he hadn’t. Consequently, he didn’t feel even the slightest bit of remorse over the fact that it was he who had, in fact, been responsible for the missing Christmas gift debacle.

That had been a silly prank that Peter would never try again. He had awoken in the grey light of dawn, and decided that it would be a terrific laugh to make his friends’ presents disappear, and then after they had searched frantically for them for a while, to bring them back with a flick of his wand. He had wanted to show James and Sirius that he was just as capable of pulling pranks as they were. However, things had not gone to plan, and when Peter had banished the gifts, he could not bring them back regardles of how hard he tried. So he had had no choice but to lie about Snape. Not that that mattered one way or the other – it was only Snape, after all. James and Sirius had certainly seemed happy enough with getting a reason to persecute him, and so perhaps Peter had even done them a service.

“I’m going,” said Remus. He quickly rose from the table and left. Peter was annoyed that he had to be such a wet blanket where Snape was concerned. It didn’t matter, Peter supposed, as Remus’ leaving would mean that he had James and Sirius all to himself. They could hardly avoid entertaining his conversation under such circumstances.

“Wait – Remus!” Sirius called, and was out of his chair and after Remus in an instant. Peter could not understand why he would bother. He shrugged, and then spooned a dollop of custard over his pudding, bit down on a cherry, took a sip of pumpkin juice, always at the same time as James. He was content to watch James watching Lily. Really, all in all, it wasn’t a bad Christmas.

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Remus picked up his textbook and discarded it over his shoulder without a backwards glance.

“Sirius,” he said, and Sirius looked up from his meal to see that Remus was staring at him hungrily across the table.

“Yes?” said Sirius, finding it difficult to swallow his terrible potatoes.

“I’m sorry I’ve been strange toward you these past few months,” Remus said, “It’s all to do with that kiss, you see. I don’t know quite why I looked so utterly horrified when you kissed me that night over the summer holidays – I think you just took me by surprise.”

Remus got out of his chair, and sauntered around the table, toward Sirius. Everyone else seemed to have conveniently disappeared.

“I’m sorry that I asked you what you were doing, and then when you ran off afterwards – which I realise now was because you thought I was mad at you – didn’t try to contact you,” Remus fingers trailed over his shaking hand, and he dropped his fork. “I’m sorry that sometimes I look at you like I want you, like I feel something special for you, like we could be more than what we are, but then look away, and act all surly and quiet, and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Remus fingers had found their way into Sirius’ hair and were tangling in them, and it felt so good that Sirius was breathing hard, and his eyes were closed tightly. “I’m sorry that I’ve been angry around you a lot of the time, lately. It’s not at all because of that kiss; or because you are finding it difficult to hide your attraction to me, and I’m disgusted by it, as though I haven’t forgiven you for being a prat or for telling Snape about the Shrieking Shack, even though I’ve said I have; or simply because you’re not a girl. It’s because I was scared to have you – but I’m not scared any longer.”

Sirius grunted in surprised as Remus plonked himself in Sirius’ lap. “Come with me,” Remus breathed into his ear, “up to the attic and let me show you how I feel.”

Sirius was very annoyed that none of that happened anywhere other than in his own fantasyland. In reality, what happened was that Remus continued to stare at his damned textbook, and Sirius continued to struggle his way through his awful meal, and nothing changed at all in the slightest way.

It was a hell of a Christmas. It was the first Christmas since he had been thrown out of his home, or left it willingly depending on what sort of mood you caught him in, and Sirius had wanted it to be good. He had wanted it to be great. He had wanted it to be so much better than all of the other dreadful, strained family Christmases he had had in the past. However, things weren’t working out quite as he would have liked them to.

James had spent tireless hours begging him to go to the Potters, and then sulking when he refused without giving a reason. Sirius had steeled himself to put up with it, because he had wanted James and Peter to be absent for Christmas. He had had Plans for Remus. However, James had changed his mind, and then Peter had stayed to continue his hero-worship uninterrupted, and then Snape had done something with all of their gifts, and now Remus was in a bad mood.

Despite all of the setbacks, though, Sirius still had Plans in place. He had bought Remus a very special, very expensive Muggle pen engraved with Remus’ name, which he had thankfully stashed under his pillow out of Snape’s way. He had set up the attic with some food and candles, and a sofa by an open window so that stargazing could be done while seated in it. He had nudged Remus that morning, and said, with a twinkle in his eye, “I’m going to be doing some entertaining tonight. And it’s a very special guests I’m having up, if you know what I mean.” Everything was set in place for him to once and for all confront Remus. Kill him with romance, all that sort of thing.

Remus was an unknown quantity these days. Sirius supposed that swooping in and kissing a person, without so much as a hello first, was an odd thing to do of a summer evening. But it was the sort of thing he did, the sort of thing he could not help doing – he had run away from home, gone to James’ house, spent days moping and thinking and self-pitying, and then come to the realisation that Remus was to him…well, a bit more than just plain old Remus. And so he had taken his broom, and James’ invisibility cloak, and set off over the country, to let him know. Only, after he’d done it, Remus had seemed so horrified by it that he had had to get straight back on his broom and leave for James’ place.

Remus hadn’t mentioned it again. Sirius didn’t think to ask him about it. He didn’t think he could bear to be told to keep his hands to himself. Sometimes, though, Remus would stare at him and Sirius would be so certain that it was with longing, and then just as he would think about leaning in and making that perfect connection once again, Remus would look away. It was confusing. Sirius, of course, had dealt with it all by not dealing with it, and bragging about fictitious girls in hallways, and talking of Quidditch, and pulling pranks on whoever was unlucky enough to catch his notice, but in the back of mind it was always there. It wouldn’t go away. Remus wouldn’t go away.

“Would you pass the risotto, Sirius?” James asked. Sirius handed it over, eyes glued to Remus.

“Could I have that, James?” Remus asked, terribly formal. Sirius wanted to demand to know why Remus hadn’t just asked him for it in the first place, because he could see quite clearly that Remus was eating the same morbidly bland mashed potatoes as he was.

“Could I have that, Remus?” Peter asked, and Remus handed the bowl to him, eyes flicking from James’ face, to a tapestry just past Sirius’ head. Sirius’ gut tightened.

Lily and Paula, at that moment, walked into the Great Hall. Sirius could positively feel the tension radiating off James as he watched Lily. He thought he knew how James felt. Lily gave the four of them a contemptuous glare, and sat far away from them.

“Alright, Evans?” asked James, very hopeful. Sirius wondered why he bothered, when Lily was so clearly unattainable. Or, perhaps, that was exactly why he bothered. After all, James certainly had his pick of women. Sirius had the terrible thought that maybe Remus, too, was unattainable, for various reasons, and wondered if he had a masochistic streak, to pine after him so.

“Women, hey?” James said to Remus, trying to smile, though he was embarrassed. Sirius wanted to roll his eyes.

“You’re never going to get anywhere, Prongs,” Sirius said, as he always did. He wished James would stop torturing himself. It was painful to witness. “Don’t you think, Moony?” he asked, peering at Remus. Remus frowned, and a lead weight settled in Sirius’ stomach. Why was he so grumpy?

“Yeah, well, maybe you should be quiet about it,” James muttered. “Or,” he continued, “Maybe you could put in a good word for me, you know?”

Sirius stared at him. Could James still be expecting him to walk up to Lily, as though they were fourteen, and pass her a heart-shaped note, or something? “Do you honestly think that I’m going to start talking to Evans for you after you’ve already asked me fifty-three thousand times and I’ve refused?” he asked. “What’s so special about this time? Fifty-three thousand and one your lucky number or something?”

“No,” James replied, “It’s just that you seem to be in Paula’s good books, and, you know, you might do a mate a favour. Just – mention me a few times tonight, make me look good.”

Sirius froze – James wasn’t supposed to know that anything out of the ordinary was going on. “What do you mean, mention you a few times tonight?” he asked.

“Well, you know,” said James, inclining his head toward where Lily and Paula were eating. He wiggled his eyebrows stupidly, annoying Sirius with his nonsense. After all, what had he to do with Lily and Paula that required such liberal use of eyebrow wiggling?

“Come on,” said James, rolling his eyes. “You’re going up to the Gryffindor attic with Paula tonight,” Peter said, watching James and Sirius as though they were beasts on display in Care of Magical Creatures, “We’ve all seen you talking to her and doing homework with her and stuff. And James said he saw you taking candles and things up there, before, to prepare for- well, you know.”

Sirius realised that he was blushing, and glared at Peter, who looked suitably cowed. He had thought he had been quite discreet, and that no one had seen him making his preparations of the attic. He had obviously been wrong. And as for his having a date with Paula – well, that had to be something of Peter’s invention. There was no way anyone else could have come up with such an absurd idea. The last thing he needed was Peter Pettigrew slobbering all over himself in his eagerness to hear another sordid tale of a fictional sexual encounter.

“Yes,” said James, “So seeing as it’s going so well with you two, I think that it’s only fair that you look out for others.” Sirius almost choked; James had the same absurd idea as Peter. Perhaps Paula had been spreading rumours herself – it had happened before, with other girls who wanted his attentions.

“I don’t think we should talk about this when they might be able to hear us,” Sirius said, glancing meaningfully at Lily and Paula. While James seemed to understand, Peter, as a matter of course, did not.

“Sirius,” Peter said, “are you going to kiss Paula tonight?”

“Shut up,” Sirius said, trying to make it look as though he was drinking his pumpkin juice, and not having an asinine conversation with Peter about ridiculous things that were never going to happen.

Peter, idiot that he was, leaned over the table and whispered, although he might as well have screamed it, “Are you going to get to second base with her?”

“I said ‘shut up,’ Wormtail,” Sirius said, with a warning look.

Peter gasped. “You’re going to go all the way, aren’t you?” he asked, eyes gleaming. Sirius slammed his cup down on the table, and was dismayed to see that Remus started in his chair. Maybe Remus was afraid of his temper, and that was why he had been as he had. It was a more comforting idea than the one that Remus was all about girls, as it meant he had a chance, if he could prove himself. And he could. Didn’t Remus understand that he was never mad at anyone, really, but himself? Well, and Peter or Snape.

“That’s none of your business,” Sirius said. Peter had better get the message. Remus looked ill, and Sirius felt guilty for having scared him.

“Well, we won’t wait up for you, anyway,” James smirked, and nudged Sirius with his elbow. Sirius wondered how he could get the pair to stop discussing it, while not giving away his plans for Remus.

“Shut up, will you?” Sirius said. “I don’t need everyone hearing about it.” He caught Remus’ eye, hoping to convey to him some sort of wordless messsage that he wasn’t angry, but Remus looked away.

“Everyone already knows about your shameless decadence, Black,” Snape said, “Your sins of the flesh. Your fornication. You disgust us all.” Of course, Snape had to put in his two cents. Sirius would have thought that Snape would have kept his mouth shut, after he had tried to ruin their Christmas, and then incurred the wrath of both he and James.

“You’re only disgusted because you couldn’t get anyone to sleep with you if you paid them half of Gringotts,” Sirius shot back, “Not that you’ve got half of Gringotts, do you, Snivellus? Or even two galleons to rub together?” Snape’s eyes flashed.

“At least I’ve two brain cells to rub together,” Snape said. Sirius felt a resigned sort of loathing for Snape, but James, apparently, couldn’t control his anger. A scuffle of some sort ensued, and before Sirius knew what was what, he had been knocked, and his fork was flying out of his hand.

“Boys,” said Dumbledore warningly, and Sirius scowled at both James and Snape. He preferred to stay under the radar.

Sirius reached over the table and took one of Peter’s forks, because Peter was probably the only person who wouldn’t protest. He went back to his meal, his head hung low over it, wishing it would end soon.

“Is it time for Pudding, do you think?” asked Dumbledore. He clapped his hands so that bowls of steaming pudding appeared before them all. “Dig in,” Dumbledore said.

James caught Sirius’ attention, and, moving his wand under the table, cast a hex upon Snape’s pudding. Sirius gave him a slight nod in return. It was their final act of revenge for Snape’s early morning present-carnage.

Snape yelped, and Sirius looked over to see that he was clutching his hands over his mouth, his eyes watering. It was a sight that could have warmed his heart on the very coldest of winter nights.

“What’s wrong, Snivellus?” asked James, “Did your pudding bite back?”

As Sirius watched, Snape wiped his mouth on his napkin, and it came away bloody. He looked at James and Sirius with, well, hurt, in his eyes, and Sirius could not suppress the grin that sprang to his face. They had finally gone past pestering, enraging, or disappointing Snape. They had hurt him. And that was an achievement. Sirius savoured the sight of Snape slinking, alone and with slumped shoulders, out of the Great Hall.

“I’m going,” said Remus, abruptly. He shoved his hands moodily in his pockets, and made quickly for the exit, head down.

“Remus – wait!” Sirius called. He got out of his seat and tore after Remus. He hoped that Remus was not angry at the prank they had pulled on Snape – Snape, after all, only deserved it, considering what he had done. Sirius knew, however, that Remus often didn’t like it when he and James put such effort and inspired cruelty into prank-pulling as they had with Snape that morning.

“Remus!” Sirius called again. Down the far end of the corridor, Remus disappeared around a corner. Sirius jogged after him. If Remus wouldn’t stop, if Remus wouldn’t let him explain about Snape, and apologise, and try to make things better, then there would be no private meeting that night.

Sirius rounded the corner, and saw that Remus was halfway up the main staircase. ”Remus, wait!” he yelled, but Remus didn’t turn around. Sirius began to panic. As fast as he could, he ploughed toward Remus, finally catching up to him, breathless and rather hot, at the top of the stairs.

“Remus, what’s going on?” Sirius asked, catching him about the upper arm. If Remus didn’t look around, wouldn’t answer, then perhaps Sirius had done his dash, perhaps he had pushed things too far. He wished desperately that he could go back to that morning, and stop himself from doing anything to Snape. He wish he could go back and block up the portrait hole so that Snape couldn’t have gotten in in the first place, and then none of the whole frightful day would have transpired.

“Remus – please, I’m sorry about Snape,” Sirius said desperately, “I’ll go and apologise to him right now, if you’d like. Would you like me to?” It had cost him dearly to say that.

At that, Remus turned to look at him, and Sirius’ heart leapt. Sirius resolved, right then and there, to do anything Remus asked of him. And, after that, to take Remus away to the Gryffindor attic, and beg and plead on bended knee if he had to, and make Remus see that he thought he loved him. He was going to pin Remus to the couch and kiss him and kiss him until all thoughts of girls and Snape and pranks and Christmas were out of his mind. And that, Sirius said to himself, was final.

“What?” asked Remus.

“You,” said Sirius, “Are coming with me. Right now. No questions asked. I have an attic I want you to visit.”

And then, one very determined Sirius led one very surprised Remus away, and to a comfortable place, up at the top of the Gryffindor tower, where neither Christmas nor friends nor enemies could touch them. A place where Sirius eventually made his arduous point upon an old sofa, under the bright winter stars.

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