It took four letters and more than a few promises before Remus was able to convince his parents to let him spend his Christmas break with the Potters. It was a lucky thing that the full moon was due to arrive the week after they returned to Hogwarts and not during the break itself, because that certainly would have put a stop to things. He didn't dare imagine what would happen if he transformed whilst at James's house, surrounded by people.

The journey back to London on the Hogwarts Express seemed to take eons, as trips often did when Remus was looking forward to the arrival. Peter napped for the majority of the ride, snoring and muttering as he did, and James, Sirius, and Remus tried to play I-Spy with little enthusiasm. There were only so many things you could spy from a quickly moving train in the middle of the barren countryside before you ran out of anything original.

"I'm so excited," James said for the third time in as many minutes. He poured a small selection of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into the palm of his hand and picked one with great care. Remus understood his precaution – Every Flavour Beans were a risky treat. "I can't wait for us to arrive."

"I'm looking forward to meeting your parents," Remus told him, accepting a bean when James offered him the box. "Thanks," he said. Luckily, it was toffee apple flavour.

"You'll love his mum," Sirius assured him, adding a lewd wriggle of his eyebrows and a wink when James looked his way.

"Shut it," James warned. To Remus he added, "They said they're looking forward to meeting you, too. I've told them all about you – well, I've mostly told them all about you. I left out your furry little problem."

"I hope I don't put my foot in it," Remus murmured, and Sirius snorted loudly as though the idea was ludicrous, which Remus highly doubted it was.

"Honestly," he began, "Mrs Potter loves everyone. The chance of you putting your foot in it and ruining things is precisely 0%."

"That's debatable," Remus muttered. It wasn't as though he'd had a lot of experience meeting the parents of his friends before. Before Hogwarts he hadn't known more than a dozen people, and most were relatives.

The countryside outside their window soon began to thin, and buildings and farms thickened. James's excitement peaked when the train entered the city. Buildings gathered and grew, and the train started to slow.

"We're here!" he cried, bouncing in his seat and jolting Peter so terribly that he woke with a cry.

People were moving in the hall outside their carriage, no doubt eagerly making their way to the exits ahead of time so they could be first off to see their awaiting parents. James, it seemed, was of the same mind.

"Bloody heavy bastard of a thing," he muttered to himself as he pulled his travelling trunk down from the luggage rack, nearly dropping it on Peter, who still looked half asleep and was blinking groggily.

The train slowed further still, and Remus got unsteadily to his feet (his legs were slightly numb from sitting so still for so long, and he had pins and needles tingling gently in his feet) and started gathering his own things. He felt excitement building in his stomach, which was churning nervously. He was about to meet the Potters, and he was terrified. He'd never had to live up to anyone's expectations before.

The train stopped and they gathered their luggage as quickly as possible, hurried along by James, who was ready and willing to leap out of the window to meet his parents. Remus was telling him about the importance of pacing oneself when Peter slid the compartment door open and nearly bowled right into Regulus Black.

"Honestly," Regulus huffed, recognising Peter and then spotting Sirius behind him, still in the compartment, "if you expect me to believe this wasn't planned and carefully orchestrated, you have another thing coming."

"Actually, it's merely a highly unbelievable coincidence," Sirius grumbled, shouldering Peter back into the compartment and standing with his brother in the doorway. He eyed his brother with an air of disinterest, but there was an energy about him that sparked and sizzled in the small compartment. "You're going home for the break?" he asked.

Regulus fixed him with a blank stare. "No," he said dryly, "I just fancied a trip to London, and thought I'd bring all my things with me."

"Smartarse," Sirius murmured, not with unkindness. A smirk dared to tug at the corner of his mouth.

Regulus glanced at Sirius's trunk, a small frown between his brows. "And you?" he asked. "Should I save you a seat at the dinner table? Would you like to sit beside Aunt Druella?"

"No thank you," Sirius replied, and Remus noticed the slight jovial tone to his voice, the lilt and brightness that was more common in conversations with his friends than with his estranged brother. "You'll give Kreacher my best, won't you?"

"Of course I will," Regulus trilled, adopting a playful look of scandalised offense. "What do you take me for? A troll?"

"Never," replied Sirius. "I take you for a Black."

Regulus's expression shuttered closed, and Remus watched as what little humour he'd smiled with disappeared.

"Well," he said, stiffly now, "I should go. You know how they are."

"I do," agreed Sirius, and Remus would have to be deaf to miss the darkness in his voice, the warning, the sadness.

Regulus watched his brother for a moment before saying, "Happy holidays, Sirius." He disappeared into the crowd in the hall, leaving Sirius standing there alone.

"What a sod," he murmured quietly, almost to himself. He looked back at Remus and the others and said, loud and direct, "He could've been great in Gryffindor."

Remus gathered his trunk and gave Sirius a hardy pat on the shoulder on their way out of the compartment. There had been many times when Remus had wondered about Sirius and Regulus, and whether they'd always had such a sour relationship as Sirius claimed. They were so similar and so close in age that Remus just knew they had to have been close before Hogwarts. Before Sirius became a Gryffindor.

It was cold out on the platform, and Remus was glad for his cardigan. Steam clouded with his every breath and his fingers were icy around the handle of his trunk. It was definitely Christmas time.

"This way," James said from in front of them, taking on the role of leader. "They always wait by the clock."

There was no mistaking Mr and Mrs Potter from anyone else, Remus quickly realised upon spying the elderly pair standing (just as James said they'd be) under the clock. They were so clearly James's parents in every aspect, in every tiny detail.

Mrs Potter was short and plump with a head of curly white hair that bobbed around her shoulders. She had James's poor eyesight and wore a pair of large dark-rimmed glasses. Mr Potter was tall and lanky, built like his son, with the same messy black hair – though his was more than a little grey in places.

Despite their obvious old age, both of them still looked full of life.

"James!" Mrs Potter called, spotting her son in the crowd and waving cheerily.

"Prepare yourselves for broken ribs, boys," James murmured out of the corner of his mouth, and then he was crushed in a hug from his mother, one that lasted longer than he might have liked, if his red face was any suggestion. When she released him she held him at arm's length for a moment, checking him over for any changes.

"You're taller," she said, teary eyed. "My little boy's growing up!"

"Mum," James groaned, "I saw you just a few months ago."

She patted him clumsily on the cheek and ruffled his hair, saying, "I know, I know…"

James disentangled himself from his mother and took a breath. "Mum, dad," he began, taking a breath, "this is Remus Lupin, and this is Peter Pettigrew. You already know the other loon." He grinned at Sirius, who snorted and bumped their shoulders together.

Mrs Potter's eyes fell upon Remus and Peter as though they were lost children, and she made a soft cooing sound that sounded remarkably close to tears, or something similar.

"Oh, boys," she said, surprisingly emotional, "I've heard so much about the both of you." She smoothed Peter's robes down across his shoulders and wiped a smudge of pumpkin pasty from his chin before smothering him in a hug. "Aren't you a sweet little thing," she said fondly, and Peter turned bright red.

"Abigail," said Mr Potter, speaking for the first time, "you'll embarrass the poor lad to death if you keep that up." He laughed gruffly and ruffled his hair, reminding Remus of his son.

Mrs Potter's eyes were warm as she said, "Sorry, love." She patted Peter on the cheek as she had James, and then her attention was on Remus.

Her eyes – which were a warm hazel, like her son's – traced Remus's scars and filled with watery pity. He was glad he wasn't yet suffering from the tiring effects of the moon, because otherwise he'd have been even more pitiful to behold and she might have started bawling right there on the platform.

"Remus, dear," she choked, "let me give you a hug." Before he could protest, her arms were warm and tight around him and her hair was against his cheek, soft and smelling of perfume.

She welcomed Remus into her arms like he was her son, and Remus loved her already.

It took a while before James interrupted with embarrassment, saying, "Mum, you really ought to let him go now. People are getting concerned."

Mrs Potter released him, taking her warmth with her, and Remus rocked awkwardly on his heels as she tried to subtly wipe her wet eyes.

"Sirius, love," she spluttered, sounding like she was on the verge of sobbing, "it's good to see you again." Before Mr Potter could hold her back, she tackled Sirius in a hug that made his eyes bulge.

"The feeling's mutual, Mrs Potter," he told her in a voice that was more polite than Remus would have thought him capable of. He patted her on the back and she let him go, red eyed and smiling.

"Well you certainly squeezed us enough, mum, so can we go now, please?" James whined, looking embarrassed. "People are giving us looks. It's becoming indecent."

"Let them look," Mrs Potter declared, and she slung an arm around her son's shoulder and covered his face in exuberant kisses.

"Mum!" James wailed, flailing in her arms, and Sirius laughed maniacally.


The Potters had a large house in a mostly Muggle village, though there were still many wizarding families in the area. The house itself was bigger than any Remus had seen before, and it filled him with awe. It had three storeys and a large back and front yard, and it looked like something from a film or a fairy tale. Remus had always considered a guest room to be an extravagance, but the Potters had two.

They were on their way up the stairs to the guest rooms when Sirius murmured, "It's nothing like my house."

Remus tried to imagine Sirius's house and Sirius's parents. He knew the Black family was old and noble, and they weren't short for funds. It made sense for them to have a family home, something as ancient and beautiful as the family that lived there. But from what little Sirius had said, it wasn't anything to be envious of.

"My house is probably the size of their bathroom," Remus replied, a little embarrassed. He couldn't imagine his friends visiting him at home.

"Mine's like a prison," muttered Sirius, and Remus worried.

In each guest room waited two beds, and Sirius clung to Remus and cried, "We'll share!" Peter frowned with disappointment and trudged into his room, leaving Sirius to sigh, "Thank Merlin, I'd have smothered him if I'd had to spend more time than necessary listening to him sniffling in his sleep."

Remus smiled as a warm feeling bubbled inside him.


They ate dinner in a spacious dining room at a large table that could easily have fit a dozen people or more. One wall was made of tall, narrow windows, and it gave Remus the impression that the Potter family had nothing to hide from the world outside. They lived openly, without secrets. It was frighteningly different from what Remus was used to at his own house.

Mr Potter spent dinner chatting amiably with Sirius about Muggle motorbikes. He explained that he spent most of his free time with his Muggle friend, a man who was incredibly enthusiastic about motorbikes and had even talked him into riding one. Sirius, Remus discovered, was saving to buy one once he left home. Remus wasn't sure if that was such a good idea, since Sirius was reckless at the best of times, and had a habit of finding himself in dangerous situations that he thought were quite amusing. (Again, Remus remembered that he was helping his friends endanger their lives by aiding their Animagus research, and he felt a wave of unease wash over him before he was able to push it back.)

Mrs Potter kept asking questions of them all, inquiring about their schoolwork, their grades, their classes, and their other friends. James talked bitterly of Severus, sheepishly not daring to call him by his usual taunting nickname in front of his parents. When Sirius brought up Lily, smirking with a playful glint in his eyes, James turned bright red and choked on his dinner.

Once or twice Remus was certain Mrs Potter was going to ask him how he'd managed to get such painfully large scars on his face. He saw the question in her eyes, which swam with pity and sympathy and concern. He could practically hear her soft, motherly voice as she asked. He could imagine the awkward silence that would descend upon them all the moment she voiced the question.

But she never asked, and Remus was almost sick with relief.


When they weren't outside in the snow, or helping Mr and Mrs Potter decorate their home for the holiday season, Remus and the others tried to continue their research on Animagus transitions. It was hard, because Mrs Potter had a habit of appearing out of nowhere and asking them what they were up to, and offering them some kind of freshly baked dessert. They had collectively decided to keep the subject of their study secret from her out of fear that it would raise too many questions, and so instead they answered vaguely and made up lies about projects and essays that were due on their return. She accepted their excuses readily, and commended them and wished them luck with their work.

Peter was useless, for the most part. He usually read a page from one of the large books before quickly growing bored, and then he simply sat staring into the distance with a glazed look over his eyes. They eventually stopped asking him to do the reading, and he was instead given the task of listening for Mrs Potter's approach. That, at least, he could do.

James lacked ambition, which Remus had always been aware of, but it had never been quite so obvious as it was in his family home. There was too much to distract him – like Quidditch in the backyard, chess with his father, card games with Sirius – and studying was of little interest to him. It was impossible to make James Potter do something he didn't want to do, but Remus tried his best to keep him studying, despite knowing that it was hopeless.

Sirius, surprisingly enough, spent as much time studying as Remus did. Normally Sirius felt the same way about studying and schoolwork as James did, and when Remus discovered how difficult it was to keep James on task he quickly realised that it wouldn't be long before Sirius followed suit. But days passed and Sirius remained by Remus's side, turning page after page and rubbing tiredly at his eyes as the light in the room grew darker as each hour went by. He didn't leave.

"I have to admit," Remus said quietly one night when the others had long since left them to their work, "I didn't think you'd still be here." He glanced hesitantly at Sirius, a little worried that he might have offended him.

Sirius looked up from the ancient book he was reading from, frowning with confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, and he scratched a hand through his hair, which was getting shaggy and long and yet continued to flatter his features. It was almost infuriating, really.

"It's just…" Remus began, unsure of how to say it without being at least somewhat insulting, "James and Peter, they haven't exactly – uh – pulled their weight, so to speak. With the research, I mean."

A smile tugged at the corner of Sirius's mouth, and his tired eyes were warm and fond as he met Remus's gaze. "You're amazed I haven't bailed already," he surmised. "It's okay, you can say it." He grinned and looked like he was on the verge of amused laughter.

Remus shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "Well, yeah, pretty much."

"It'd be pretty bad of me to leave you drowning in all this work when it wasn't even your idea," Sirius pointed out. "Besides," he went on, "I'm eager for us to get this done as soon as possible, and if the others aren't going to help out it just means that I have to work three times as hard in order to keep us on schedule."

Remus felt a twang of concern. He knew it was possible to make yourself sick from stress and overworking yourself, and the thought of Sirius in any kind of pain made him feel shaky and unwell. "Don't stress yourself over it," he told him forcefully, picturing Sirius lying gaunt and sick in bed, a thermometer propped comically out of his mouth. "We have the rest of our lives to get this right. It doesn't have to be sorted so soon. We're not – there's no deadline."

Sirius levelled him with a steady look. "Remus," he said slowly. "If I had it my way, you wouldn't spend another full moon alone ever again. So the sooner we get done with all this research, the sooner we can begin the transformations, and the sooner we can keep you company."

Remus worried at the inside of his lips with his teeth, biting at the soft flesh. "Don't kill yourself because of me," he said eventually, and when Sirius laughed, all courage and confidence, he quickly added, "I'm being serious here. I don't want you rushing things because you have some ridiculous notion that I shouldn't be alone when I'm a dangerous, uncontrollable, murderous beast. You've read all of these books, Sirius – you know how dangerous it is if you're not well prepared."

"I know, I know," Sirius sighed, rubbing at his eye, "and I'm not just – just passing this stuff off as rubbish, y'know. I'm reading it. I'm even making notes!" He held up the parchment on which he'd been scrawling notes down all afternoon. Remus was impressed that he hadn't added any bored sketches in the margins.

It was hard, and it took a lot of effort, but Remus swallowed his concern and forced himself to nod. He had to admit – if only to himself – that Sirius, at least, had started to treat their research seriously. Perhaps he was yet to grasp the true danger of their plan, but Remus still had hope that with time he would.

"Come on," Sirius said after a long silence, "we've done enough work for the day, don't you think?"

Remus nodded, feeling numb and worn thin. He stood, wobbling a little on unsteady feet, and Sirius smiled at him and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. It was silly, and entirely unwarranted, and more than a little worrying, but with the one simple touch it felt as though Remus's entire body had been set alight.

"Don't worry so much," Sirius said gently, his pale eyes focused entirely on Remus. "We're on holiday, after all."

They left the study together, and Remus breathed heavily as he tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that only seemed to appear when he was with Sirius. He desperately avoided thinking about what it might mean.


Remus woke on Christmas morning to James throwing open the door of their guest room and shouting as loudly as he could, "WAKE UP, YOU WANKERS! IT'S CHRISTMAS!" He was gone as suddenly as he'd appeared, but his voice was still audible even as he descended the stairs, still shouting and cheering and clapping his hands.

Sirius, from the bed on the opposite side of the rather small guest room, grumbled wordlessly and threw his blankets back. He sat upright and rubbed at his eyes and seemingly tried to adjust to the early hour.

Remus watched him, too tired to think about why. Sirius's skin was pale, like he'd never seen the sun, and his hair was a mess of dark curls and tangles. Compared to Remus, he looked lean and muscular. Compared to Remus, he was spectacular.

"Merry Christmas, sleepyhead," Sirius said in a gravelly sleep-worn voice, and Remus watched his lips form the words.

Remus, who was still lying under his blankets, smiled and forced himself to get out of the comfortable warmth. "Merry Christmas," he replied.

Sirius threw Remus's dressing gown at him before he pulled on his own. "C'mon," he said, "I think I can hear James demolishing all the gifts downstairs. You know how he gets."

They met everyone downstairs in the lounge. James was sitting cross-legged in front of the Christmas tree, which was surrounded by a shocking amount of gifts of various sizes, all wrapped in bright paper. Peter looked as though he was still half-asleep as he stood on wobbling feet nearby, a cup of hot chocolate cuddled in between his hands.

"Merry Christmas!" Mrs Potter cried, spotting them. She flicked her wand in the direction of the kitchen and two large mugs of hot chocolate came floating towards them, tempting swirls of steam issuing from the mugs.

They began unwrapping gifts, because if they waited any longer James might have had a stroke. Remus's parents had sent him new quills and parchment, as well as a large bag of toffees that they knew he liked. Mr and Mrs Potter gave him a stocking overflowing with chocolates. From Peter he received a homework planner, which Remus had purposely been hinting to him about, and was subsequently very pleased with. Lily had sent him a photo album which already contained several photos of them both from Halloween. James gave him a thick woollen cardigan that changed colour depending on your mood and began to heat when it felt you were too cold. Sirius gave him a dragon-skin journal, which felt thick and heavy and perfect in Remus's hands, as well as a stack of books, both Muggle and otherwise.

"Thank you," Remus told them, feeling speechless. "I'm sorry if my gifts aren't as good." He'd had trouble finding gifts that weren't too expensive, and he'd mostly given them things from Honeydukes.

"Nonsense," Mr Potter said gruffly. He'd already started eating his gift from Remus, and there were smudges of chocolate around his mouth. "Chocolate's never a poor gift, son."


They were exhausted when they finally made it to bed later that night. Remus was so tired he only shrugged halfway out of his cardigan before giving up and slipping into bed with it still on. He was nearing sleep when he heard Sirius's voice breaking through the fog.

"Today was wonderful," he said, and he sounded as exhausted as Remus. "It really was."

"I agree," Remus said, too tired to give any more input than that.

"This whole holiday has been great," Sirius murmured. He yawned, and Remus yawned in response. "I'm glad you're here," he went on, sighing a little as he did, and Remus smiled into the dark where no one could see.


Sirius ate his toast with his mirror propped up against the jug of pumpkin juice, James's face visible in it instead of his own.

"This is so amusing," James said from within the glass, and Remus could just hear the echo of his voice coming from the living room.

"I know," Sirius agreed, grinning and smiling into the mirror, which in turn showed his reflection to James. The mirrors had been a gift from James's parents, and James had immediately gifted one to Sirius. They were a means of communication, and Remus could already tell that they were going to be used quite a bit.

"Really, boys, don't you think it's a bit much to be using them over breakfast?" Mrs Potter asked, settling a plate of pancakes on the table. Peter immediately took one, a starved light in his eyes.

"Mum, it's only natural that we want to test them," James told her from the mirror. "We're inquisitive teenagers. We have growing minds."

"But over breakfast, James?" she sighed. She reached for Remus's empty plate. "Finished, dear?"

"Yes," he said, a little startled by her affectionate way of addressing him, "thank you."

She smiled warmly at him and ruffled his hair as she accepted the plate and carried it away into the kitchen.

"This is the coolest thing," Sirius breathed, still staring excitedly at the mirror.

James grinned with agreement. "We're going to have so much fun with these," he said, and together they laughed mischievously Remus imagined Filch would have his hands full now – even more full than they already were.

"I wonder how the mirrors work," Remus mused aloud, already thinking of what books he'd borrow from the library in order to understand them, and Sirius shrugged.

"Magic," he replied in a well duh tone.

Remus rolled his eyes, fondly exasperated by the big idiot.


They were leaving in the morning, and the house felt tired and sad as they began to prepare for departure.

"Have you read this?" Sirius asked from where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed.

Remus was packing – as Sirius ought to have been as well – and looked up from his bulging trunk of belongings to see what Sirius was reading, which was the Prophet. "Not yet," he said. If he had time later he might, but he doubted it. They were on a strict schedule, after all, and he still hadn't done his research for the day.

"They seem to think this Voldemort guy is a pretty big concern," he said, a hint of concern in his voice. "Here, listen to this: 'One in four people questioned said that they believe in the pureblood ideals that the Death Eaters stand and fight for.' That's a little worrying, don't you think? One in four?"

Remus worried at his lip. "I guess so," he reluctantly agreed.

Sirius folded the paper closed and tossed it aside, grimacing at it. "My parents think he's got the right idea," he said quietly. "My whole family, really. My aunts and uncles, my cousins… Last time I was home, my brother had started cutting articles from the Prophet regarding it all." He shuddered with disgust, his eyes lowered to the carpet. "I think he was going to stick them on his wall. Like some kind of disturbing shrine."

Remus abandoned packing and sat on his bed and faced Sirius, who looked sickly pale. "I'm sure it's just some – some crazy fad. Like lava lamps, and – and tie-dyed clothing." He laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

Sirius attempted a smile, but it quivered and fell flat. "I hope you're right," he said with a sigh – a sigh that gave away how hopeless he felt.

"I'm sure of it," Remus promised him, feigning more confidence than he felt. "This whole thing will blow over in no time."


It snowed on the way back to Hogwarts, but together they were warm in their compartment.


TBC