A/N: Season's Greetings! This fic is unbeta'd due to being so very near Christmas, so please forgive its shortcomings. The Christmas song is from 'Oh What a Lovely War', the musical. This is not a one-shot, there will soon be a second part. Enjoy!

Christmas at Home

I love the first of December. To me it has always signalled the start of Christmas, which is, as the Muggle song says "The most wonderful time of the year". For us wizards it is the same. Christmas is a season where the world is a little bit more attractive, people are just a little bit more optimistic, and most importantly, everyone is nicer to each other, which means a lot to someone in my position in society.

At the end of this year we will officially be able to say that we have been at war for two years. And we have felt every day of them - the little wince of pain you get at the morning's announcements, or when you remember something that isn't there any more like that music shop on Diagon Alley, or, as happened to me last week, you cut yourself shaving and feel irrationally scared and shaken by the sight of blood on your fingertips. I could go on, but instead, I'll just say that I am very keen to have a day that was distinguished by happiness rather than tragedy.

I've been living with James and Lily for a year and a half, and they've been married for eight months. We're very comfortable together. My room is an entire floor above theirs, so we rarely get in each others' way, especially since we're all out doing different things. It's Monday today. Lily stays home on Mondays, and makes James and I some dinner. When I come home that day, she's got a glow in her cheeks. She's probably feeling a bit Christmassy too.

"I've made lasagna," she says, "with extra beef for us."
I smile at her gratefully. I've been out in the cold all day and my body feels like it's melting, while my stomach feels like it's empty. "That sounds about perfect, Lily."
"I thought as much," she says. "Hibernation instincts, eh?"
"Wolves don't hibernate, they keep hunting," I say, wryly.
"Neither do deer, rats, or dogs, but tell that to the boys," she replies. "I'll dish up as soon as James gets back. Go and warm yourself by the fire, you look like...an icicle."

Funny how we avoid the word 'death' this days, isn't it?

I stay by the fire, which Lily has just lit, to let my toes thaw out. I feel so very festive I wish James had a copy of 'A Christmas Carol' that I could dig out, but I have to remind myself that there are still twenty-four whole days, and those days won't be the slightest bit interesting if I do everything at once. Every so often I look over and see Lily, who habitually looks at the clock. She's trying to stop herself from thinking too much about James while he's out, but she can't help worrying in the hour before he's expected.

He comes home, of course, his hair flattened by the rain, and she rushes to greet him. Before he can even take his cloak off she leans on him and kisses him. She reminds me a bit of my mum when she does that. I'll never tell her though - that's practically an insult to a nineteen-year-old. But it's sweet when they do the "How are you, love?" "Fine, sweetheart. Just tired, that's all" "Oh, I'm glad. I'll get dinner on" routine.

James removes and hangs up his clothes with a weary sort of air, though he isn't unhappy. When Lily goes back into the kitchen, he comes over to me. I can't tell what it is but there's something different about him, and there has been for the past week or so. The only thing I can pinpoint is that he stands a bit straighter than he used to, and holds his shoulders further back. It's like he's trying to look more manly, almost.

Then he throws himself on the sofa next to me, and says "Alright, Remus?" and I forget this impression.
"Yeah, alright. You?"
"Yeah. Prewett, by the way," he says, raising one hand in the air, "is a nutter."
"Which one?"
"Both."

This makes me laugh. "They're the best variety though, right?"
"Oh yeah. Laugh a minute. Which is more than you can say for some. Have you got your interview tomorrow?"
"Yes," I say. It's for a café in the Muggle part of town. Why I'm being interviewed, I don't know. It seems there is always some kind of obstacle for me.
"Surely," James expands, "it's pointless having an interview for a café? How many plates can you hold?"
"Three."
"How many cups of tea?"
"Five."
"Done, job's yours."
"Thanks, James, now I'll feel really embarassed if I don't get it."
He smirks, in the typical Prongs fashion. "Don't argue with me, Moony, you will."

Lily calls us for dinner. It's about six o'clock. Since we are lazy, useless teenagers wearing ourselves out fighting a war, we don't usually eat until at least eight, so this is a little surprising for me.
"Dinner's early today," I remark to James.
"Yes," he says. "Lily and I are going to see Dumbledore tonight, and we're flying."

He leaves, and I'm sat there, wondering. Of course, I say to myself, they can go and see Dumbledore whenever they like. But what could they possibly have to discuss that can't be discussed in front of the Order, at the next meeting? Or that can't wait another week or two? Then again, our old Headmaster does have a hectic schedule. I only got my reference from him at the start of this year.

But why on earth are they flying? By the way, we live in Devon. Hogwarts is in Scotland. They'd have to fly at least three hundred miles, in the rain. Who in their right mind would want to do that?

That night is like any other dinner night. James gives us a brief report of all today's changes to the war effort, which included Fabian Prewett's 'Christmas carol', which Lily and I remembered from last year.

"It was Christmas Day in the harem, the eunuchs were standing round,
And hundreds of beautiful women were stretched out on the ground,
Along came the wicked sultan, surveying his marble halls,
"What do you want for Christmas, lads?"
And the eunuchs all said...

"Tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, oh tidings of comfort and joy!"

When it's over, Lily stands up and breezily says "I have a little present for us all! Since it's the first of December and everything."

She produces three cardboard structures with names of Muggle chocolates and festive designs on them. They seem to have perforated windows with numbers in a random order on them. For a moment I have no idea what she's put in front of us, until suddenly a wheel turns in my brain and I remember something from my very earliest childhood – something I used to see when I could live in the Muggle world…

"It's an advent calendar, isn't it?"
Lily nods enthusiastically. "Uh-huh. My dad used to buy these for me and Petunia. We'd always get jealous of each other's, but I think I can handle it now."
"Good," I say, pulling an advent calendar with 'Smarties' towards myself defensively. "Mine mine mine!"
"Would anyone care to explain this to me?" James interrupts.
Lily demonstrates the sweet and simple process of ripping chocolate out of a door, and gives him the little stocking-shaped chocolate from the tip of her little finger. He smiles.
"I've never had a chocolate shaped like a sock before, but there's a first time for everything!"
"Dumbledore's dream sweets, I'm sure," I say, forgetting that they're going to see him.
"Oh God," Lily says. "James, we'd better get going."

He straightens up. I knew I wasn't making it up, he's definitely acting differently. He tells Lily, not in too bossy a fashion, that they should both probably put more layers on.
"Why on earth are you flying in this weather?" I ask.
"I don't know," Lily says, and she looks back at James. Her expression says more than her words do, though I don't know what exactly. "It'd be perfectly fine to Floo."
"We can't take any chances," he replies, quickly. She sighs.
"It actually is the safest option," she tells me, as he goes upstairs. "Though if I catch my death of cold, he's entirely to blame."

I take the initiative to wash up, and when I hear them come back downstairs they're still talking in low and irritable voices. They say a cheerful "Bye, Remus," when they leave, though it's drowned out a little by the noise of the rain and fog.

I don't mean to be the theorising type. I'm not a detective. I don't want to analyse anyone when they clearly want to be left alone. But I can't stop my mind from wandering that night, even when I'm trying to concentrate on being the perfect candidate for tomorrow. Dumbledore, I think, must have some kind of personal business with them. That is definitely not hard to believe.

James and Lily are both very talented, especially considering how young they are. They've defeated Voldemort himself three times. They're actually coming to be quite famous. We've had support messages from our friends and allies in Europe - the staff of Beauxbatons, as I read aloud for the Order, said "Veuillez envoyer nos meilleurs sentiments à M. et Mme. Potter". In a way, for those of us who love them, it's starting to become frightening. The Death Eaters, for all their talk of class and honour, are not inclined to show their enemies any respect.

If they were in special danger, or getting to be so, they'd have to go everywhere by broom, because Floo can be picked up on (not legally, of course, but we're well past considering that a barrier) and so can Apparition. But I'd defy anyone who wasn't a bird of prey to spot James Potter flying in the dark.

A heavy and depressed feeling comes over me. I did not want to start the festive season contemplating the idea of my friends being in serious danger. They're practically my brother and sister. Even now I still can't imagine...

Get over yourself, Remus. Lily and James will be fine. They always have been. They always will be. Anyway, it's CHRISTMAS.

Christmas!

My mind floats erratically between thoughts of doom and Dumbledore and memories of Christmas resurfacing. Whenever I almost drift off to sleep thinking of Mama's Yule Log I'm brought back by the horrifying realisation that the war will not stop to let me have a treat. I can hear the clock ticking in the dark and see the hour hand move twice past the illuminated side before James and Lily come back. Their steady footsteps on the stairs suggest they haven't died or fallen ill with the cold of the night, which means we'll all be fine for another day. I don't catch what they're saying, only the words "the three of us", and by now I've been sat here thinking for so long that I'm starting to wonder how I've put up with myself for nearly twenty years, so I don't stop to wonder who the "three of them" are. Perhaps me. Perhaps Dumbledore. Perhaps Sirius. Perhaps the cat?

Once I hear their bedroom door shut, I've had enough of December the first, and I sleep.

I know that Christmas is a special time of year when wonderful things happen. I know it in my heart because on December the second I actually manage to get a job serving coffee and cakes in a typical English tea-house. The lady who owns it, Maureen, is middle-aged, and her blonde hair has that flick at the ends that all the Muggles liked twenty years ago. She wears pearl earrings and a dark green blouse, and she gives me the best tea I've had in two years. She's very impressed with me when I tell her my mother ran a café, and she compliments my choice of Muggle outfit, and hairstyle. They were Lily's choice. She said it gave me a 'Merchant Ivory' look. I have no idea what that means but I guess it must be a good thing. After a few quick questions she gives me a smile and says "Thank you". I've never been cheerfully dismissed from a job interview before so I don't know what she means.

"Do...are you...can I work here now, then?"
"Yes," she says, her voice laughing. "I'll see you tomorrow at seven?" she says. "If that's not too early..."
"Oh no," I say, hardly able to believe I've got a job, with a timetable. "That's wonderful."
She notices my surprise. "It must be funny for you," she says. "Coming to live in a city like this, after spending all your life on an island. Having to take the Underground and so on."

Oh, yes. She also thinks I'm from the Falklands. It was my way of explaining why I don't have any O-Levels and why my first name is 'Remus'. Most people don't know anything about the Falklands, so I can take liberties with the culture. I dread the day I meet someone who does know something, especially since the population of the area is so small they'd probably wonder why they didn't know me.

"Yes...it's very quiet in Stanley, there are less than two thousand people there and here there are millions! But I'm ready for a faster pace of life."

"Oh, well, of course you are!" she says. "You know, I could never have travelled so far at your age. When I was nineteen all I wanted to do was stay home with my mum."

If you think that's surprising, you should see what I'm really doing with my time, I think, and then remember again that I am indeed young, even if the state of my body, my mind and my soul strains to suggest otherwise.

"Well, it has its good and bad moments, like everything else," I say. "I have my friends, at least."

"Well," she says, "tell your friends to come here sometime, because I'm tired of talking to old biddies all day. And you'll have to tell me more about Stanley!"

When I walk down the street, it hits me. I. Have. A. Job. I'm employed. I'm going to have wages. I'm going to be a contributing member of society. I'm a citizen! Christmas music plays from the open door of a shop I'm passing.

A very Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year...Let's hope it's a good one...without any fear...

I nearly want to dance down the road. I am employed! And it's Christmas! Look out, 1980, Remus Lupin has his own money to spend.

Nevertheless I spend the afternoon celebrating in the typical Remus Lupin fashion - that is, by being extremely budget conscious and going to the library. When I meander home, a book on Stanley, my imaginary hometown, under my arm, I see that Sirius is paying us all a visit, as his motorbike is parked outside. I go in and he, Lily and James are casually sitting around the table in the kitchen.

"Speak of the devil," Sirius says, looking up at me with a smile. "How are you, Moony?"
"Did you get the job?" Lily and James ask. Once again Lily has that beautiful glow in her face. They never fail to get excited for me when I go out for a job. In the Potter house we've come to consider getting through interviews to be 'great progress', so a job is a minor miracle.
"Yes," I say, my own happiness overcoming me when I look at them. I feel like I love them for supporting me so long. They've been like my own family this past two years. "I start tomorrow at seven."

With that I collapse into the spare chair and let all three of them pile congratulations on me. This is a moment we never thought would come. Lily breaks out some chocolate biscuits and brews some fresh tea, because it's still only four o'clock so a bit early to drink anything stronger. They don't stop hugging me and patting me on the back.

"This isn't a career, you know," I say, hiding my joy in modesty. "It's just a little Muggle thing..."
"A Muggle thing which pays!" James says. "And wizard companies love it when you've worked with Muggles."
"Or at least they used to," Sirius says, a remark which hits a bit too low for our mood, so we pretend not to hear it.

The time ticks by, and Sirius has to leave for some shift tonight with Peter. Peter doesn't do many shifts with the Order as he has a real job at the hospital, and so we embrace every opportunity we get to spend time with him. He's a brother, too. They're all my brothers. I will love them for the rest of my life.

Before Sirius goes, he hands me some sheets of paper.
"These are for you," he says. "Give them a read, and if you're interested, Floo me tomorrow."

At first I assume they're some kind of document for the Order, but they're printed on Muggle paper, by Muggles. Within a minute of looking at them it occurs to me that they're forms for a flat, and in the next minute I've worked out that they're for a flatmate. Sirius is inviting me to move in with him.

"This is funny," I say, showing it to Lily and James, "I mean I appreciate the offer, but why would I want to live in London? I mean, yes, I work there," I've never 'worked' anywhere before, so the word is exciting to me, "but why would I want to stop living here, where it's calm and I can walk to places I want to go to? Padfoot knows I'm hap…py..."

They don't smile at my slightly silly remarks.

"I'm sorry, Remus," James says, looking at me seriously and directly. "but you're going to have to move, and London's the best place. Sirius is more than happy to have you in his flat."

Oh, Merlin. They've asked Sirius to invite me to move in with him.

I knew there would come a time when they'd get fed up of me and send me on my way, and I told myself I would not get offended, or nostalgic, because sometimes in life you just have to do as you're ruddy well told, like it or lump it, as my grandmother would say. Still I never thought I'd be kicked out...no, Remus, don't be ridiculous, you're not being kicked out, you're simply being asked to relocate...the very day I got a job.

And the thing that really hurts is, not only do I love James and Lily but I'm also starting to love the Potter house a bit. It's the biggest house I've ever lived in and it's so comfortable it's like a dream. The living room has big stiff armchairs, the kind you can read all night in, and a beautiful log fire. I sleep in a king-size bed with two pillows stuffed with goose feathers. The bath is about a metre deep, and the garden is an acre big, and I'll never forget waking up on a summer's morning after the full moon with the tender caresses of the grass and the Devon sun on my skin...

But no. Times must change. You can't hang onto anything, anything at all.

"I understand," I say, and I don't know how or even whether to tell them how I feel or not, because I know that they've been happy with me too, even if they aren't now. In the end I blurt out, "I just want to say...Thank you. Thank you for everything. You must understand how much this has all meant to me."

...and tiny but unmistakeable tears come down Lily's red cheeks, and James unconsciously pulls her hand towards him.

"We're sorry, Remus," he says. "It's not that we...I mean...we were happy here, too. We could have lived like this for another two years, easily. But you really are going to have to leave," He pauses, and swallows, and half the strength in his voice disappears all at once, "because we have to leave too."

Have you ever known something without ever saying it in your mind? I think that's what I feel. But I can't articulate it. I just listen to James with dumb anticipation.

"Lily and I are being targeted," he says. "We're public enemies, so it's not safe for us or the Order to carry on fighting any more. Dumbledore says that he and the rest of the Order will do their best to protect us, but the only thing that will truly save our lives is going into hiding. So that's what we have to do."

"He's found us a place," Lily says, thickly, and I can tell she feels like I do, or worse. "He suggests we move in by the end of the month."

"The end of the month? But it's Christmas!" I exclaim, though for some reason I can't bring myself to talk at a normal volume even though we're alone. "What's the emergency?"

"Well, we're being targeted, you know," James says, dryly. "I doubt Voldemort puts his plans on hold to pull a few crackers and listen to the wireless."

But there's something else. The Lily I know wouldn't be crying if it was just a case of being targetted, because we thought of that a long time ago even if we didn't think it all the way through.

"What else?" I say, so quietly I'm practically mouthing.

Lily smiles and looks up at me with reddening eyes. "We're having a baby," she says.