A/N - Well, I'm not too late on this one...it was harder to write than I expected. It also ended up being hopelessly fluffy and rather more than a bit maudlin but...I hope you like it, regardless.

ALSO - please read the note at the end of the chapter, as it's very important concerning the future of this storyline and a brief goodbye.

With that being said - here it is, the last chapter of all, and I hope it finds you having a lovely Christmas with your friends and family :)

The Track of a Storm

By Lady Taliesin

James Potter died on October 31, 1981. But when, nearly six years later, Lord Voldemort invokes an ancient magic to restore himself to a body, James is drawn back into a world where everything he knows is gone, and everyone he cares about believes him dead…

Disclaimer – Y'all know the drill…it's all Jo Rowling's, not mine. Sue and you'll get nothing, nada, zippo, zilch…in other words, don't bother trying.

The Track of a Storm

Chapter 25 – Christmastide

December 23, 1987

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

No, that wasn't right. He was painfully aware of what he was doing – what he didn't know was why he was doing it.

He glowered down at the still almost entirely full bottle of butterbeer clasped in his hand. All around him people were shouting, laughing, crying, chattering, commiserating, boasting…it was almost enough to make him sick. The enormous cacophony inside coupled with the constant ringing of the tinny bell over the doorway as patrons entered and patrons left and the roaring of the fire in the far corner and the claustrophobic press of people all cramming together into the pub all conspired to make it the very last place on earth that Severus Snape wished to be at that moment.

He didn't have much choice in the matter, though, and the reason was this – he was Christmas shopping.

He hadn't wanted to. He'd tried to persuade himself out of it ever since November the first but with less than two days to go until the wretched holiday he'd finally surrendered and, with a scowl at the look on the Headmaster's face when he'd told him of his plans, thrown on his thickest cloak and stalked down the road to the village.

The village had looked just like a Christmas card, the gingerbread houses lightly dusted with snow and candlelight gleaming from every glass paned window. Wreaths hung on every door, carols drifted through the chilly afternoon air, and it was all so nauseatingly maudlin that it was all Severus could do not to turn around and stalk right back up to the castle.

That was before, of course.

Now Severus would have been very surprised if it looked like anything at all, on account of the massive blizzard that had appeared out of nowhere and driven him into the dubious shelter of the Three Broomsticks.

With a final scowl at the room in general Severus got to his feet, drew his cloak more tightly around him once more, and strode out into the furious white gale outside.

The little bell over the door tinkled merrily as he left, but it was lost in the screaming of the wind and the blinding ferocity of the snow outside. Squinting against the wind and the snow and realizing, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that it was now quite dark out, Severus drew his cloak up to cover his blisteringly cold nose and muttered a few choice profanities under his breath.

So much for the supposed "joys" of Christmas.

So. It seemed that the shops were all closed – not that any of them had had anything worth getting in them, to start with – and so that left him with one choice.

With a shrug and a final glare at the snowstorm raging around him Severus Snape turned briskly around and began to head back towards the castle.

He'd find something for Draco Malfoy himself.

After all – how hard could it be?

ooooo

Severus Snape was completely and utterly exhausted.

He'd tried everything. A set of Slytherin gloves, hat, and scarf – Draco already had a full set, probably more. An old yellowing picture of Lucius Malfoy, his prefect's badge glinting slightly as he prepared to enter his seventh year of school – too soon for something like that. An antique tureen filled to the brim with cookies and sweets and all sorts of treats imaginable, then – Severus suspected, vaguely, that Narcissa wouldn't appreciate that very much. In desperation he'd even tried to steal a book from the library, a huge ancient tome filled to the brim with wizarding and muggle poetry alike – but when he tried to enact that plan Madam Pince only had to turn her steely, beady eyes on him and he crumbled.

Everything. He'd tried everything. And it was now Christmas Eve, and all of his efforts had amounted to…nothing.

He sank onto his bed, buried his face in his hands, and with a great deal of effort managed to resist the urge to kick something.

"If anyone else I know is planning on dying in the near future and leaving me in charge of their wretched offspring," he growled under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut and very determinably ignoring the Christmas carols drifting down to his dungeon room from the Great Hall, "Then I think I will just save them the trouble, and kill myself instead."

His only reply was a particularly loud burst of singing from somewhere upstairs. Through it all Severus was positive he could hear the Headmaster's voice, bellowing cheerfully along with whatever hapless students he'd managed to drag into his makeshift chorus, and Severus' scowl deepened.

This was ridiculous. It was a Christmas present for a seven year old. It should be easy.

Severus got to his feet, his coal black eyes burning with resolve once more.

He had an idea.

ooooo

It was very, very early in the morning.

So early, in fact, that it wasn't even properly morning yet. There were a few tendrils of orangish-looking light just starting to creep over the eastern horizon, but everywhere else the sky was a steely sort of grey and the snow – still pure and untouched from last night's storm – held a silvery edge to it.

It seemed that the world was still sleeping – there wasn't a breath of life anywhere near the house, not even so much as a breath of wind or a snatch of birdsong. Everything outside was utterly untouched and pristine – inside, however, it was a rather different story.

Sirius Black had woken up in a cold sweat, a scream dying unuttered on his lips as he'd scrambled to sit up and turn on a light. That had been hours earlier – by the time the first blushes of morning began to inch across the sky he'd been awake for a full two hours, his elbows resting on the windowsill and his black hair falling in disheveled strands around his face as he stared out into the predawn morning.

He couldn't quite remember what he'd been dreaming about anymore – Azkaban, probably, or else nightmares of what could have happened if he hadn't reached Remus and James in time – but that hardly seemed to make any difference. His face was still pale and his head was still pounding as though he'd woken up just minutes before and his hands were still trembling, even…

With a scowl he turned away from the window, flopping down unto his bed and burying his face in the nearest pillow.

It was all so aggravating he could hardly stand it anymore. He was fine during the day, but whenever he closed his eyes prison walls and blood and Abaddon's silky laugh all rushed in on him at once and his eyes would snap right back open again. And the most aggravating part of it all was that it had only gotten worse as time went on – he hadn't slept properly in what felt like ages, and even though he soundproofed his room every night he still noticed the concerned looks Remus and James shot him when he stumbled, red eyed and exhausted, downstairs every morning.

Bloody stupid Azkaban. Bloody stupid Abaddon Jugson. And bloody stupid nightmares.

He yawned, opened his eyes, and rolled over as the first traces of sunrise began to creep into his room. "It's Christmas." he said aloud, his voice hoarse even to his own ears. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "It's Christmas." he repeated, louder this time as he stretched out and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. "And d'you know what sort of present these…dreams…are? A bloody awful one, that's what."

A bird trilled somewhere in the distance, and Sirius grinned despite himself. "Yeah. My point exactly."

He got to his feet, and stretched with a groan. "Moony better cook the most utterly amazing breakfast ever, or I think I'll just cop out of this one."

He waited for a moment for a reply, but this time there was none forthcoming so he shrugged and stumbled towards the bathroom, wincing slightly as his bare feet touched the cold stone floor.

A shower. A nice, long, hot shower and after that an hour or so of lounging about doing nothing. And then to wake Moony and wait for the absolutely amazing breakfast.

He closed the bathroom door behind him, and for a moment there was silence. And then all at once there was a rush of water and, at the very same instant, a sudden raucous chorus of birdsong erupting from the woods. The Sun had just tipped over the horizon and flooded the forest and the snow-covered heath with blood-red light, setting the sky ablaze and only stirring the birds to greater efforts.

As Sirius remarked an hour later, totally ensconced in a fluffy red robe and still bleary eyed and sleepy – "Let the festivities begin."

ooooo

Harry stared straight up at the ceiling, his emerald green eyes wide open and unblinking as he traced the cracks dashing and whirling about the ceiling with his eyes. It was only six thirty in the morning but he'd already been up for at least half an hour, afraid to move in case his dad or Sirius woke up and pelted into his room to make sure everything was alright– but it was so hard waiting that he almost couldn't stand it, he almost couldn't breathe.

Christmas. Really Christmas. With presents and lots of food and a fire and hot chocolate and a real tree, not just the broken, plastic one the Dursleys put up every year. It was almost too wonderful to imagine, and for one terrifying moment he was afraid he was imagining it – that any minute now he'd wake up and he'd be in his cupboard again, with Aunt Petunia banging on the door demanding to know why he hadn't started cooking breakfast yet.

His breath caught and his heart began to race, and without realizing what he was doing he tried to jump out of bed – his feet caught and tangled in the blankets, and with a short scream and a painful sounding thump he tumbled off the bed and landed, flat on his face, on the cold wooden floor.

He barely had time to register the pain before with a telltale creak the door to his room was pushed open and a soft, worried voice asked quietly, "Harry? Are you –"

"I'm okay," answered Harry quickly, sitting up and adjusting his glasses slightly as Remus, a thoughtful frown on his face but his amber eyes twinkling even in the faint early morning light, fixed him with his sternest look. "Really. I just fell out of bed, is all."

"Yes, I can see that." said Remus wryly, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he surveyed the scene, his eyes finally coming to rest on Harry's sheepish grin. "It wasn't a nightmare, was it?"

Harry shook his head, clambering back onto the bed and wrapping the blankets around himself once more. "No. No. I've been awake for ages but I didn't want to wake anyone up so I was trying not to move…"

Remus laughed, folding his arms across his chest and leaning to rest against the doorway as he regarded Harry through amused amber eyes. "Really?"

Harry blushed, and glanced studiously down at his hands. "I didn't mean to fall over." he said awkwardly, starting slightly as Remus walked over to the bed and, with a strength belied by his slender frame, lifted Harry off of the bed and swung him down to the floor.

"I know. And Sirius and your dad didn't hear anything – they're both still sleeping, so far as I know. What do you say we go make breakfast for them, hmm?"

Harry's face broke into a smile, and he allowed Remus to propel him gently out into the hallway and down the rickety, creaking wooden stairs. "Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"Happy Christmas."

He could hear Remus laugh, softly. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

ooooo

He knocked once. There was no answer and so he knocked again, louder this time, shivering slightly in the cold as he glanced around aimlessly and waited for someone to answer the door.

Finally after what felt like hours of waiting the heavy wooden door was pulled open and Narcissa, her face paler even than usual and a tired smile on her face, stepped into the doorway and stared at Severus in open surprise. "Severus? What are you doing here?"

Severus Snape cleared his throat, shifting the present he held in his hands awkwardly and brushing past Narcissa into the manor. "Happy Christmas," he said brusquely, shrugging off his fur lined cloak and hanging it on the silver coat hanger standing just inside the entranceway. "I don't mean to impose…"

"Not at all," said Narcissa hastily, courtesy overcoming her confusion as she led Severus down the cold gray hallway and into the room at the end of the hall. "I just – I wasn't expecting you."

The room was brightly lit but even despite that it was grim and cheerless. There were a few swags of garland and even mistletoe scattered about but it was obvious that not much energy or enthusiasm had been directed into decorating – the tree was small and wilted, sparsely decorated with garland and ornaments and beneath it all a huge flood of presents, all wrapped in the exact same paper and arranged in neat and cheerless stacks and rows.

"Draco's not awake yet." said Narcissa in a hushed voice, taking Severus' present out of his unresisting hands and setting it down gently under the tree. "Or at any rate he's not out of his room yet. I'm afraid he's not quite as excited as he normally is, what with…you know…" She drew in a deep breath, and smiled tiredly at Severus. "Well. Would you care for something to drink?"

"No," said Severus stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling distinctly uncomfortable as Narcissa sank into a nearby armchair and regarded Severus through tired eyes. "No, thank you. I just came to give Draco his present, and then I have to go back to Hogwarts."

Narcissa shook her head and laughed weakly. "It's Christmas, Severus. I'm sure the Headmaster would forgive you if you didn't go back to the school right away. And we'd – we'd appreciate it, if you stayed."

Severus shook his head hurriedly, and moved quickly toward the door. "Thank you, but no. I have important things to do. Important business. And such. Really, I can't stay. I can't. Thank you."

Narcissa made a half-hearted effort to stop him, but finally she acquiesced and escorted him back down the hallway and outside.

The day was clear as anything, the sky a perfect robin's egg blue and the grounds white and pristine in the morning sunlight. It was also cold as anything, and Narcissa shivered, wrapping her arms around her pale green dressing gown and regarding Severus pensively as the potions master fastened his cloak around himself once more. "Thank you for stopping by, then."

"My pleasure." said Severus curtly, inclining his head gravely at Narcissa as she smiled wearily at him. "Happy Christmas, and my regards to Draco."

Narcissa nodded and fixed him with a grateful look. "Happy Christmas. I will. And – Severus?"

Already halfway down the path leading away from the house, Severus turned and looked at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

ooooo

It was nearly nine thirty in the morning when Sirius made his grand entrance, his grey eyes dancing as he tumbled down the stairs and yawned a morning greeting. "Mmmhh…morning, all."

"Not all," corrected Remus, neatly flipping half a dozen pancakes onto a waiting platter before turning to look at Sirius. "James is sleeping, still."

Sirius snorted and waltzed over to collapse at the kitchen table. "Lazy sod. Merlin, Moony – this smells delicious…"

"See that he doesn't try anything, Harry." called Remus, casting a glance over his shoulder at the table as Harry laughed and Sirius rolled his eyes. "Breakfast when James gets up, and not before."

Sirius groaned, throwing his arm over Harry's slender shoulders and burying his head against Harry's neck as Harry, overcome by a fit of giggles, tried to push him away. "Ye gods, we're going to starve…"

Remus shook his head and sighed deprecatingly. "Go wake him up, then."

Sirius considered this for a moment, raising his head to regard Remus musingly. "…On second thought, I think I'll wait."

"He's not that hard to wake up." piped Harry, stealing a piece of toast off a teetering stack as Remus turned back to face the stove. He tore it neatly in half, offering the larger piece to Sirius, who cast Harry a grateful look and accepted it with a grin. "He never gets very mad at me when I wake him up."

"Yeah, well, that's because you're you." said Sirius with a sigh, settling back in his chair with a groan and glancing at Harry through amused and half-lidded eyes. "Me or Remus tries to wake him up, see, and he –" Sirius caught the look Remus was sending him, and hastened to amend, "– He's not quite so happy about it. Lazy sod." he repeated, allowing his chair to lean back on two legs as he stared at the table – already laid out with bacon, toast, pancakes, eggs, sausages, and all other sorts of delicious things imaginable – in undisguised hunger. "Moony, this really smells divine. It really, really does. You do realize that you've gone all…mmmhh…domestic, yeah?"

Remus laughed, pouring himself a glass of chocolate milk and joining Sirius and Harry at the table. "One of us had to. If we left you and James to do all the cooking – well. Then we probably would all starve to death, I think."

"I can cook," interjected Harry, scootching his chair closer to the table and missing the worried look that Sirius and Remus shared across the table. "I'm not that bad at it. Really."

"You're fantastic." agreed Sirius, tousling Harry's hair before wrapping his arm bracingly around his godson's shoulders. "You're absolutely brilliant. But if we didn't give Remus something to do then he'd dedicate all his efforts to driving us all insane. Really, Harry – this is an act of mercy."

Remus spluttered, nearly choking on his milk as Sirius grinned and Harry laughed. Before he had a chance to reply, however, he was interrupted by a short scream coming from the direction of the stairway, quickly stifled by a series of very painful sounding bangs and thumps.

Harry looked stricken, Sirius laughed, and Remus didn't even bother to turn around. "Morning, Prongs." called Sirius loudly, a wicked grin on his face as James, rubbing the back of his head with a moan, limped into the kitchen. "You'll want to watch that first step – it's a bugger."

"Prat." mumbled James, slipping into the seat between Remus and Harry and accepting the cup of coffee Remus passed him with a grateful look. "Happy Christmas to all but you. What time is it?"

"Nine forty five." answered Remus, shooting Sirius a glare as Sirius tried to covertly spear half a dozen sausages onto his plate. "We've been waiting to eat until you woke up. And also waiting to open presents which, I'll have you know, is a tremendously difficult feat."

"Mm. Sorry. Why didn't you just –"

"We considered sending Harry in to wake you up," interrupted Sirius with a grin, ignoring the exasperated look Remus was shooting him as he turned to regard James fully, "But decided it wasn't worth the risk."

"Feel free to ignore him. He's only been up fifteen minutes longer than you."

"I can tell. You've got your shirt on inside out, Pads."

"I – oh. Yes. That was…intentional."

James shook his head but didn't say anything, and after a moment he turned to grin down at Harry. "Good Christmas thus far?"

Harry nodded slowly, his mouth too full of biscuit to speak. Finally he swallowed and said softly, the faintest hint of a blush creeping across his cheeks, "Yes. It's – it's the best Christmas I've ever had."

The table fell silent. Harry glanced studiously down at his lap while Sirius, James, and Remus exchanged a look across the table; finally James cleared his throat, shifted his chair closer to Harry's, and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Me too."

ooooo

Draco picked at the ribbon absentmindedly, his thoughts distant and his eyes unfocused as he slowly untied the knot and tossed the exquisite silvery gray ribbon carelessly to the side. "Mother?"

Narcissa, perched on the edge of an uncomfortable-looking green velvet armchair a few feet away from Draco, started. "Yes?"

"Do you think that, this year, maybe we could…maybe we don't have to have dinner? Not such a big dinner as usual, I mean. Please?"

Narcissa slipped down to the floor, sitting next to Draco and watching him carefully through guarded eyes. "Draco, I – I don't think your father would want us to put our lives on hold, just because he's not here anymore."

Draco nodded hastily. "I know! I know. It's just…it just wouldn't be the same, and I don't…"

Narcissa nodded slowly, brushing a strand of Draco's silvery blonde hair out of his eyes and bending down slightly to kiss him gently on the forehead. It was a mark of how very much things had changed lately that he didn't try to pull away. "Alright. A small dinner it is, then. Why don't you open your last present and then Gwell and I will help you carry all of this upstairs, you can get dressed and then we can decide what to do from there, okay?"

Draco nodded and even smiled hesitantly as he reached for the last present under the tree, a large box meticulously wrapped in solid green paper and topped with a perfectly tied silver bow. "Severus brought that for you this morning," said Narcissa softly, watching through tired eyes as Draco tore off the paper and threw it over his shoulder. "While you were asleep. You'll have to say thank you, next time you see him."

Draco nodded mutely and regarded the large white box the wrapping paper had unveiled gloomily. "I bet it's clothes." he muttered under his breath, carefully opening the box and leaning over to peer inside. A second later he gave a cry of surprise and toppled over backwards – a tiny kitten almost small enough to fit in the palm of his hand had poked its head out of the box, surveying the scene through drowsy golden eyes and mewing plaintively as Draco reached out and stroked the top of its head with one trembling finger. "It's a cat," he said unnecessarily, staring in disbelief at the coal black kitten as it leapt out of the box and began to chew on his fingers busily. "He gave me a cat, Mother."

The kitten turned and, purring for all it was worth now, rubbed its side against the box – the box wobbled for a moment and then toppled over, and a small parchment note tumbled out and landed, face down, at Narcissa's feet. She snatched it from the ground and read the precise, elegant handwriting in disbelief, shaking her head slowly as Draco laughed.

Happy Christmas. This is an especial friend of mine, and as he is very firmly resolved upon living a life of comfort and indulgence I deemed it only fitting that he make your acquaintance. He answers to Byron and is altogether unsuited to civilized life – he has a good heart, however, and I'm certain that in your excellent company he'll soon become adapted to a life of sophistication and ease. Happy Christmas, all my best, etc – Severus.

PS – Give him a chance, Narcissa.

"Can we keep him, Mother? Please?"

Narcissa looked up slowly, the note clenched tightly in her fist and a gleam of indecisiveness in her eyes. "I –" She broke off and swallowed, glancing back down at the note as Draco – the tiny kitten clutched against his chest and his grey eyes wide and pleading – stared at her with bated breath. Slowly, she began to smile.

"Yes. Yes, we can."

ooooo

It wasn't a particularly large house.

It wasn't even a particularly comfortable house. There were drafts and the floorboards creaked and there was quite a large extended family of mice camped out cheerfully in the basement. But it was undeniably cozy – a blazing fire crackled away cheerfully on the hearth, casting a warm orangish glow over everything. Frost decorated the paned windows, garland and chains of cut out snowflakes adorned every available space, pictures crowded an odd mishmash of side tables and cabinets and in the far right corner of the living room stood the Christmas tree, glorious in its hodgepodge array of homemade and glass ornaments, strings of tinsel, and enchanted candles and beneath it all stacks of opened gifts and mountains of discarded wrapping paper.

It was almost midnight. Harry had long since fallen asleep and was lying on the couch, his arm dangling over the side and gently brushing against James's shoulder and a whole pile of blankets painstakingly tucked around him.

"Here you go, then. Sirius Black's famous hot chocolate, served especially for you with marshmallows and whipped cream and, of course, a dash of rum."

Remus made a face as he accepted the enormous, steaming mug from Sirius. "You didn't…"

Sirius snorted, careful to keep his voice low so as not to awake Harry as he settled down between Remus and James. "Nah, not for yours. Or yours, Prongs. Just for mine because I am, of course, the very finest hot chocolate connoisseur out of us all."

James smiled briefly. "Truly something to be proud of, Padfoot."

Sirius nodded solemnly, taking a sip of his drink and yelping slightly as it scalded his tongue. "Ow. S'hot."

"You know," said Remus musingly, cradling his mug of hot chocolate in his hands and staring absorbedly at the dancing fire, "I think that, considering this summer, it's something of a miracle that we all made it to Christmas mostly unharmed at all."

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. I knew we'd get here, right enough. What was it that McGonagall used to say…that we were 'nothing if not irrepressible'. Something like that."

"Yes, but…a year ago you were in Azkaban, James was dead, Harry was at the Dursleys and I was by myself. And now just one year later all of that's changed and it's just – you were always sure that it would turn out alright in the end? Even when it seemed like things just kept going from bad to worse?"

"You're in an odd mood tonight." remarked James, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and turning slightly to regard Remus. "Is anything wrong?"

"Hmm? Oh. No, nothing's wrong. It's just…for those six years you two – you three, really – were gone I used to wish for this so badly and now it's here it's just…it's still hard to come to terms with, is all."

Sirius laughed softly, and slung his arm over Remus' shoulders. "I, for one, assure you that I have no intention of leaving. Ever." Remus rolled his eyes, but made no move to shrug Sirius' arm off.

"Well. That's a relief."

James grinned as well, and scooted around so that his back was to the fire and the three of them were sitting together in a tight circle. "A toast, then. To friends, Christmas, and Padfoot's magnificent hot chocolate making skills."

"I'll second that." yawned Sirius, raising his mug to knock against James and accidentally spilling hot chocolate over them both. "Oops. Sorry. Moony?"

Remus had made no move to raise his own mug, but when Sirius said his name he looked up, smiled softly, and raised his glass. "To family."

There was silence for a moment. And then as one Sirius and James raised their own mugs to Remus', the sound of the glasses clinking together and the merry blazing of the fire the only sounds in the otherwise silent room.

"To family."

The End.

(Almost.)

In quite a lot of reviews I recieved for the last chapter you guys mentioned the fact that there was no confrontation with the Dursleys - something that I completely forgot about! So rather than have that be a chapter and push this chapter back one I decided to make that a one shot. So around early January look out for a one-shot featuring the showdown with the Dursleys.

So it isn't quite over yet...but still close enough that I'm getting choked up writing this. Yes. I'm a sap. But...this story's taken up about two years of my life and I just wanted to say that I am SO grateful to all of you guys who read this and made it such a wonderful experience. I will make a point of replying to each and every review I recieve for this chapter and if you haven't reviwed yet then please, PLEASE do so - because this is it.

There will not be a sequel. I do have the plans for a few sequels but I don't have the time - if you like I can send you the plans for them, just ask me in a review and leave me your email (or a signed review) and I'll be glad to.

Alright. I have to go now, so - THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING.

Happy Christmas, and - good bye.