I’ll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
December 24, 1981
Christmas at the Potters was an event. James was a master chef, Lily was aggressively stylish when it came to decorations, Peter was surprisingly good at event planning, Remus kept all the preparations organised, and Sirius… added Christmas spirit. (He’d spent sixteen Christmases in the Black family, so he wasn’t exactly amazing at planning festive holiday parties. At least he was good at singing Christmas carols.) Between the five of them, Christmas parties were works of art.
And now, apparently, Remus has a severe case of artist’s block.
Christmas 1980 was delightful. A white Christmas painted the outside of Potter Manor, while Lily’s masterful decorating skills shone within. Holly-and-pinecone wreaths lined the hallways, complete with little red bows tied onto each wreath, and strings of warm golden fairy lights framed each portrait. Best of all was the magnificent Christmas tree in the living room, adorned with ornaments galore and one bright star at the top. (James and Sirius had to be talked out of putting Sirius on top of the Christmas tree.) Christmas dinner was a massive spread, with every traditional holiday food you could think of. The smells of nutmeg and peppermint filled the air, and scented candles lined the windows.
In comparison, Christmas 1981 will consist of beer cans littering the floor of Remus’ apartment, and a vague smell of stale fried chicken coming from who-knows-where. Bit of a contrast from the jolly celebrations of last year.
Remus wants to simply drink away the holidays, like he drinks away half the rest of his life now. Ever since… November third? Yes, that was the first night he got completely wasted. And amid the melted filter, the restless night, the abysmal hangover, and the half-hour of retching in the bathroom, Remus temporarily forgot about the rest of his life.
That was good. Forgetting is good.
But it’s evening on December twenty-fourth, and all Remus can hear is Lily rushing up and down the halls, fixing decorations, while James cooks frantically, Peter and Remus double-check each plan, and final RSVPs come in via owl. He wants that Christmas. He wants the last perfect, magical Christmas, with all his friends. With James and Lily and Pete and Mary and Marlene and Dorcas and even…
Sirius.
Even Sirius.
Especially Sirius.
Just for one Christmas, he wants Sirius.
I’ll be there, Lily, he promises. I’ll be home for Christmas. Home? He hadn’t been home for almost three months. Because home used to be his Sirius, and his Sirius is not the man who now resides in Azkaban. So Remus is homeless, but he’s going home on Christmas anyway. You can count on me, Lils, I’ll be there.
“Is it going to be as perfect as last time?” Remus whispers to the empty air. “Will there be snow? And wreaths? And presents under the tree? And you all? Will you be there? Please, Lily, tell me you’ll be there. Just one more magical Christmas. That’s all you need to be there for. Please, Lily? Please?”
She doesn’t reply.
She won’t ever reply again.
But Remus will be there anyway.
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I’ll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
December 24, 1981
Idly, Sirius wonders if the ornaments are gathering dust.
It’s Christmas Eve. He knows this. He’s been keeping a calendar of slashes on the wall, for almost three months now. James and Lily aren’t here to celebrate Christmas. Remus won’t celebrate on his own, Sirius knows that. Marlene and Cas are both long gone too. Peter… Sirius doesn’t want to think about Peter. Probably holed up in a gutter celebrating Christmas Eve with a mouldy cheese stick – if he even knows of the date at all. That’s a better holiday than the rat deserves, frankly. Certainly a better holiday than the one Sirius is having.
So who will dust the ornaments?
There are eight special ornaments tucked away in the several boxes of Christmas decorations in the attic of Potter Manor. Unlike the Muggle ornaments Lily has adorned most of each Christmas tree over the years with, the special ornaments are magical in the most literal sense of the word. The designs drawn onto each ornament move and make noise, much like magical paintings. Remus, Lily, Dorcas, and Mary (the four who grew up without magic) were all consistently amazed by the tiny figures flitting around the spheres. Each of the eight ornaments belongs to one of James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, Lily, Mary, Marlene, or Dorcas. Each ornament has its owner’s name inscribed on it in swirling cursive, as well as a special design of the owner’s choice. For James, it’s a stag. Lily, a doe. Sirius, a constellation. Remus, a dozen little gingerbread people. Peter, candy canes. Mary, a man in a red suit and strange white beard who Sirius doesn’t know. Dorcas, a sleigh. Marlene, snowflakes.
Six of the ornaments are red with golden writing. Two, however, are green with silver writing; Dorcas’ and, for some reason, Lily’s. Dorcas was a Slytherin, so it makes sense that she chose Slytherin colours for her ornament, but why did Lily follow suit? Sirius thinks it had something to do with Snape, but he can’t be certain.
Anyway, Sirius’ ornament is red and gold. Gryffindor colours. Lily can choose whatever colours she wants, even if it’s neon pink and dark yellowish-green, but Sirius wants to make it as obvious as possible exactly who he is. A Gryffindor, not a Slytherin. A Lupin, not a Black. A hero, not a villain.
Not that anyone of importance believes that last part, now.
It’s Christmas Eve, and Sirius is in Azkaban, loveless and alone, and somewhere, his ornament is collecting dust.
Sirius lies down on the cold stone and closes his eyes, and allows himself to dream that he’s loved once more, and he’s home for Christmas once again.
I’ll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
December 24, 1981
Christmas at the Weasleys just isn’t the same as Christmas at the Potters. For one thing, instead of a diverse cast of houseguests, the Burrow dining room is filled with a small clan of Weasleys. Molly, Arthur, William, Charles, Percival, Frederick, George, Ronald, and baby Ginevra. (Yeah, Peter is really expecting the kids to go by nicknames when they grow up. At least William is starting to insist on being called Bill.) And Peter’s there too, of course. As Worm– Scabbers. Scabbers, not Wormtail. Scabbers.
The Burrow isn’t decorated as beautifully as Potter Manor used to be, either. Candles and holly berries do seem like safety hazards around that many children, but what harm can a Christmas tree do? It’s not like the kids will eat it, will they? (Although, Ronald might… nope. Just nope.) At least the food will be of good quality. Molly Weasley might be the only person who can hold a spatula to James’ cooking skills. Peter can smell gingerbread and sugar cookies and mince pies and roast beef and cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes and treacle tart and plum pudding and… so much food that Peter can’t even sort out all the scents. Peter is eager to eat it tomorrow evening.
Tech-nic-al-ly, he’s supposed to be eating his own little meal of brie cheese, raw sweet potato, and some weird grain-seed mix. But Peter’s a Marauder. He knows how to steal food without getting caught, and there is no way he’s going to refrain from swiping his own fair share of Molly’s Christmas banquet. He’s a rat. He’s going to eat anything yummy that he can get his paws on.
Still, Peter misses the Potters’ Christmas desperately.
The stupid thing (okay, one of the many stupid things) is that Peter would be preparing for a Potter Christmas right now, if it weren’t for his own actions.
This is supposed to be the good outcome. Peter knows exactly what’s supposed to have happened: Sirius should have been taken to Azkaban, Peter and Remus should be commiserating together, Peter should be helping Remus through the inevitable depression, and the war should be raging on as Peter continues to spy for the Dark Lord’s side. Meanwhile, Peter should be subtly convincing Remus to defect to the Dark Lord’s side, so when the Dark Lord finally wins, Peter and Remus can live happily together under the Dark Lord’s control. Remus is usually fairly easy for Peter to sway, but James and Sirius used to spend so much time complaining about the Dark Lord, exaggerating his flaws and completely ignoring his (many) good points, that any progress Peter ever made at convincing Remus to defect (subtly, of course) was erased the second James and Sirius started talking about the war. Which was often.
But! When Sirius was in Azkaban and James was dead, it should have been so easy for Peter to sway Remus. And the Dark Lord would happily accept Remus on his side, because werewolves were excellent assets. It would have been perfect… if Lily didn’t have to go and invoke blood magic. Stupid Lily. Peter never liked her anyway – no, that wasn’t true, Peter adored Lily. Still. Blood magic? Really? Did she not know how dangerous that was, how lucky she was that Harry wasn’t killed?
But somehow, because Lily’s blood magic worked, Harry is alive and Voldemort is dead, and Peter is hiding as a rat because otherwise he’ll be killed by former Death Eaters. He can’t even go to Remus because he has no good excuse for why he’s pretending to be dead, since he can’t tell Remus about the whole ‘evil spy’ yet.
If he’d known that this would happen, he wouldn’t have defected. Because all he was trying to do was align himself with the winning side, and if he’d known that Lily had been learning blood magic to use in the battles… well. His certainties about the winner of the war would have changed drastically.
(Blood magic. She learned blood magic.)
Peter closes his beady rat eyes and sighs. He just wants to go home.
Oh, Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
Baby, baby, I’ll be home for Christmas
December 24, 1980
“Muñeco, where are you?”
“In here, Lilypad!” James yelled from the kitchen. A few seconds later, his wife stormed in, dragging Sirius by the collar behind her. “Please tell this man that he is not allowed on top of the Christmas tree.”
“Mm, sorry, babe.” James shook his head, grinning ear to ear. “I can’t lie to my best friend.”
“Oh, honestly – ” Lily threw her hands in the air. “REMY!!”
“No need to shout, Lils, I literally have superhuman hearing,” Remus grouched, following her into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
“Control your husband,” Lily demanded, thrusting Sirius towards Remus.
“You actually think I can?” Remus asked sceptically, arching an eyebrow at her.
“No more than I can control mine,” Lily sighed. “I mean, you could always promise – ” She leaned forward and whispered something into his ear. Remus’ eyes lit up.
“Why not?” He turned to Sirius. “Babe, if you behave, then – ” He whispered something in Sirius’ ear. “As a really early Christmas present.”
Sirius nodded earnestly. “Okay okay okay!” He bounced out of the kitchen. “Imma go entertain Harry!”
“And I have to go check the enchantments on the staircase,” Remus said, strolling out of the kitchen again.
“What did he promise Sirius?” James asked curiously. Lily whispered the answer in his ear and James burst out laughing. “In our guest bedroom?”
“Apparently.”
“Harry is not allowed anywhere near there tonight.”
“I agree.”
“He’s far too young to be traumatised.”
“Indeed.” Lily smiled up at James. “Remember that time in seventh year when you walked over to Sirius’ bed and opened the curtains and – ”
“We agreed not to talk about that!” James hissed.
Lily stole a dollop of cookie dough from one of the bowls mixing themselves on the kitchen counter. “Suit yourself. I still think it’s hilarious.”
“It scarred me!”
“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
James huffed and waved his wand. Lily watched (in wonder, James hoped) as the three bowls of cookie dough floated over to an oven tray covered in Christmas-themed moulds and began filling each mould. Another flick of his wand and the tray was zooming into the refrigerator, which closed once the tray was inside.
“Why the fridge?” Lily queried.
“The dough has to set before it can bake.” James turned back to the counter. “Now I just need to finish the cranberry sauce and I’ll be done until tomorrow.”
“Anything I can help with? I’ve finished decorating.”
“Um, yeah, could you pour a cup of orange juice into each of these bowls?” James gestured at the two bowls in front of him, both of which were half-full of frozen cranberries. Lily found a bottle of orange juice and a one-cup-measure and carefully poured precisely one cup of orange juice into each bowl. James smiled at her, then stepped forward to do his part – which seemed to be slowly tossing the cranberries like one would toss a salad, while carefully adding orange zest into the bowls. Finally, James stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “I think it’s mixed through fairly well, right?”
Lily nodded, although she couldn’t for the life of her understand what he was looking for, when the mixture looked exactly the same to her as it had five minutes before. Although – “Why are the cranberries still whole? Aren’t they supposed to be, you know, sauce?”
“They will be once I cook the whole thing tomorrow. That’s when the berries pop. I’m just leaving the berries to soak in the juice overnight, because that improves the taste dramatically.”
One of the many, many things Lily loved about her husband was that he never made anyone feel bad about not knowing something. He just explained whatever the thing was patiently, and gave the other person room to ask follow-up questions. So Lily did. “What’s that for?” She pointed at a smaller bowl filled with a light brown powder.
“Sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I’ll add it to the sauce before I start cooking. If I add it tonight, it’ll just settle at the bottom of the bowl, which will be irritating to say the least. Not to mention, the taste of the sauce would be uneven unless it was very well mixed, but if the powder clumps – ”
James was honestly adorable when he started talking about anything that interested him. He got this cute twinkle in his eye and his hands moved with his thoughts, helping explain what he was talking about. When the adorableness became too much, Lily simply leaned forward and kissed him. He seemed surprised, but returned the kiss wholeheartedly.
“You’re adorable,” she whispered into his mouth.
“You know what?” he replied, letting his left hand trace her spine. “Why do Sirius and Remus get to have all the fun tonight?”
“I have no idea,” she murmured, as her heart began to speed up in anticipation.
“Mm… then I think there are some things we ought to do…” He wrapped his arms around her hips, pulling her closer to him. “Let’s get to bed, shall we, my Lilypad?”
Maybe there was something special about Christmas Eve, because that night, Lily felt like she had been given all the love in the world, and had all the love in the world to give. She was safe, and she was loved, and she was home. She was home for Christmas. Finally home.
I’ll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
If only in my dreams
December 25, 1981
Remus, as a teenager, kept a journal under his pillow which he wrote in almost every day. At first, it was because he finally had friends, and wanted to preserve every moment of their friendship before they inevitably figured out his secret and deserted him. Then, once they did figure out his secret and didn’t desert him, he kept writing because he was so amazed that he had friends, true friends, that he had to record every part of this unusual phenomenon. In fifth year, the journal became a way to express his emotions about his topsy-turvy life. In seventh year, it became a study journal for a little while, where he summarised books and recorded facts and kept track of his study schedule. (He got near-perfect NEWTS, so it must have worked.) After Hogwarts, he started to write about the war, consider strategies and try to guess Voldemort’s every move. But he kept writing about the remarkable, incredible, delightful events in his life, and one of those was Christmas 1980.
Now, Remus sits at his desk, a dark-blue leather-bound journal in front of him. It’s midmorning on Christmas Day. Last night, he got to work cleaning up his apartment for the party he was never going to have. Tonight, he will eat the fried rice he has stored away in the fridge. He has a nice bottle of fizzy champagne, too, maybe he’ll drink that instead of beer. He’d rather have eggnog, but isn’t quite sure how to make it.
For now, though, he takes a sip of tea from a plain white mug. He’s found a few bags of a Christmas tea that Lily bought for him; candy cane flavoured, apparently, with peppermint leaves, cinnamon, ginger, and… licorice? It sounds disgusting, but it’s actually fairly good. Invigorating. Nostalgic. Reminds him of Lily a little, actually.
That’s a nice way to segue into his activity for the day. Rereading his journal entries from the holiday season of 1980. Because if he wants to be home for Christmas, and his home is where his Sirius lives, then he has to go to the only place where his Sirius exists; memories. A Pensieve is too expensive for Remus, so he’s using the next best thing; his journal. Where the only Sirius is Remus’ Sirius, the one everyone loves and trusts, the one who would never have betrayed his best friends. Yeah, that Sirius isn’t here anymore, so Remus is following him back to wherever he is. In just a couple minutes, Remus will be home.
He opens his journal slowly. The date of the first page is December 18. Just when the Christmas preparations started, then. Perfect. He settles into his chair and begins to read.
The full moon is in three days and I’m so glad to be home…
Yeah. Home. He’s going home.