Christmas Eve, Wolfstar
Christmas Eve, 1981
remus
He traipsed around the flat, hazy and tired. He imagined lily's voice in his head 'only you, Remus bloody lupin, would work on Christmas eve!' and she certainly wasn't wrong. The other marauders had spent the day last minute gift shopping, running from store to store like the endearingly useless boys they were. Remus had already prepared his gifts in November; a lily enchanted with immortalis for his favourite redhead, an instant and infinitely refilling hot chocolate mug that he had found at an Italian market for Prongs, a miniature stuffed stag for little Harry, slippers embroidered with little mouse faces and tails and were charmed to squeak for Pete, the most hideously ridiculous knitted Christmas jumpers for Marlene and dorcas, and a brilliantly red purse for Mary. And of course there was Sirius' gift, which Remus couldn't bring himself to even think about without breaking out in an anxious sweat. So, he cast the thought out of his mind, and went back to pulling off his dark brown oxfords, ministry appropriate black robes, and olive-brown satchel. He left the work robes and satchel hanging on a funny little antique hat stand he and Sirius had picked up at a muggle flea market. It was made of a wrought iron that was almost green with rust, and the prongs curled into little gargoyle faces, on which he now gently placed his robes and satchel. Remus loved that hat stand. It was silly, stupid even, to love something so ugly, but when Sirius had spotted it, he had demanded they buy it and apparate straight home to use it. The joy on Sirius' face, accompanied by his childish giggles as Remus attempted to fit it through the door was a memory Remus thought he would use whenever he might need a patronus. With his shoes neatly next to the door, he leant back over the arm of a truly hideous maroon couch (another Sirius flea market find), closed his eyes, and breathed in. The scents of last night's curry, cigarettes, and Sirius' cologne wafted past his nose.
Remus lay still, feeling his limbs finally relaxing after the long and incredibly tense day he'd had. It wasn't that he didn't love the work his was doing, and the difference he was making, but sometimes those arseholes at Wizengamot were the most thick-headed pigs he'd ever met. When he'd first left Hogwarts, he had no clue how he was going to find any kind of work as a half-breed, a werewolf, a monster. It was Prongs who had suggested he go about changing the laws around werewolves, reducing the stigma and making sure kids like him everywhere could live lives full of love, and happiness, without the constant fear of being locked in a cage. And he was proud of the strides he was making. More and more werewolves were being allowed to attend school, and he had opened programs which allowed some to spend the full moon in forests, away from people, but finally able to roam and run free during the worst night of the month. Remus smiled to himself; he was making a change in the Wizarding world. He was amounting to something. He'd struggled, and fought, and lived in fear, and finally, finally, he was feeling at home in his body. Wasn't that just brilliant?
He pushed himself off the couch, and set about making dessert for tomorrow's Christmas party. He felt utterly content.
sirius
Sirius darted from storefront to storefront, watching as open signs switched to closed, items were levitated back inside, his last chance to secure a present slipping through his fingers like sand through a sieve. Of course he would do this kind of thing. Fucking useless twat. His mother's voice reverberated through his head, cruel and cold and calculated. He shook his head as he slowed to the point where he was to meet Prongs and Wormtail, as if he could physically remove his mother from himself. He knew what his mind healer would say, what James or Remus would say: "She's gone, Sirius. You're safe, take a breath." So, for their sake (not his, he told himself, he wouldn't do it for himself) he took a few calming breaths, touched the pads of his fingers to his thumbs, counted to ten, and stopped. She was gone. He was safe. He was here, in London. He was waiting for his brilliant friends. And he had the most charming, beautiful, incredible man, waiting at home for him. His heart rate slowed, his breathing evened out. He was ok. Sirius turned his head, spotting Prongs and Wormy heading towards him, laden with bags. Pete greeted him with a pat on the back, and James with his signature motherly hug. Sirius wondered if James did that as a way of commemorating his own mother, or if his parents' death had made him realise that each hug with the ones you love could be the last. Merlin, Black, where'd that one come from? Sirius chastised himself. He then pushed the morbid thought from his head, returning to his mates.
"Alright Padfoot, I've got all mine, and Pete's done too. Good to go?" James nudged forward his bags, as if to tease Sirius with his secured presents.
"Um... yep, all done, ready to go," Sirius mumbled because of course, of course, he couldn't find the right gift for Remus. It wasn't that he hadn't looked, it was just that everything seemed wrong. The dragon-hide boots were too tacky, and Remus wasn't a fan of any kind of beast skin material. The diary enchanted to never run out of pages felt too insignificant, too small. The pots of jam, marmalade, chocolate spread, butter and a loaf of bread was more of a joke than a present, an homage to a habit Moony had never quite given up of covering his toast in an obscene array of spreads. Everything was stupid, Sirius was stupid and fucking Christmas was stupid. Sirius hated the pressure of finding the perfect gift. But he was going to do it. By tomorrow night, at the annual Godric's Hollow Christmas party, he was going to have the perfect gift for his Moony. He had to have the perfect gift for his Moony.
"Pads," James said as Pete nudged his shoulder, "Alright mate?" Sirius realised he had spaced out worrying about his present for Moony, and shook his head with a small smirk.
"Ah y'know, just thinking about Moony." He hoped his tone seemed nonchalant.
"Right mate, whatever you say," Pete said disbelievingly. "See you lot tomorrow."
Without another word, the three boys nodded at each other and apparated to their respective abodes. Sirius arrived outside his flat with a whir and a small pop. Suddenly, being so close to home, knowing Remus was waiting upstairs for him, calmed every inch of his being. He sauntered up the stairs, waved his wand over the lock, and stepped inside. The smell of fruitcake and muggle brandy wafted through the flat, the sign of Remus preparing for tomorrow's party. Sirius made his way to the kitchen, coming up behind Remus with a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey love," Remus smiled, turning around to capture Sirius' lips with his own. Remus always tasted sweet and smoky, and Sirius had been addicted since the first time they'd kissed. He pressed deeper, moulding the kiss from a quick hello to something more fervent, more passionate.
The two men held each other, swaying slightly in front of the stove, all love and haze and magic. And in that moment, Sirius knew exactly what he was getting his Moony for Christmas