CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: "Merry Christmas"
It was Christmas morning and all of the English countryside was blanketed in a fresh dusting of snow. The rolling hills looked like soft marshmallows undulating into the distance around the small hamlet where a grand house stood at the end of a short cul de sac. Cherie stretched awake as the scent of maple syrup permeated through the house, a sure sign that her mother was downstairs making her famous pancakes, a family tradition each holiday.
Cherie rolled out of bed and pushed her feet into a pair of soft white slippers before wrapping a robe around herself and padding her way downstairs to the kitchen where, sure enough, a stack of pancakes were already growing in the centre of an ornate platter which sat in the middle of the bench. Her mother flipped another pancake onto the plate and ladled the next one into the hot pan.
"Merry Christmas, Mum," Cherie crossed the kitchen and kissed her mother on the cheek.
"Good morning, darling. Can you please call your father and tell him that breakfast is ready? He's in his office."
"Okay," Cherie trudged her way upstairs to her father's office and knocked on the heavy wooden door before poking her head inside.
"Dad, Mum's made pancakes."
"Mmm," he said non-responsively as he rifled through his desk. The doors to the filing cabinet behind him were wide open and folders pulled out at random intervals. "I could have sworn…" he said more to himself than anything as he pulled the top drawer of his desk open again and had a second look.
"What are you looking for?"
"Just… never mind, it can't be far. I'll be down in a minute, hun."
Cherie left her father to his chaotic mess and made her way downstairs. On her way to the kitchen, she couldn't help but sneak into the family room and steal a peek at the presents beneath the tree. A large package in silver paper sat beneath the tree from her parents, surrounded by a collection from distant relatives and a present each from Lily and Amelia which had arrived overnight, but she was secretly disappointed not to see one from Phoenix.
When she walked back down the hall and into the dining room, she saw that the table was laid out with the finest silver. A large tray of pancakes sat in the centre of the table alongside a jug of freshly warmed maple syrup, a bowl of mixed berries and a fresh pot of coffee.
"Where's your father?" Cherie's mum looked up as Cherie entered the room.
"He said he'd be down soon. He's lost something."
Cherie's mother tutted and shook her head. "Does he not know what today is? Today is family day, not a work day." Her mother got up from the table and made her way towards the stairs. "No starting until everyone is at the table", she called over her shoulder, as though she had eyes in the back of her head to catch Cherie reaching for a ripe, red strawberry from the top of the bowl.
As though scolded, she pulled her hand away from the food and went to the roller table in the corner of the dining room. She pulled the roller up as it squeaked and pulled out a quill and piece of parchment.
'Merry Christmas, Lily!' she scribed. 'Thanks for the Christmas present. I haven't opened it yet... opening presents is to be done as a family, but typically Dad's still working. I think I hear Mum dragging Dad downstairs now. Have a great Christmas, and I'll see you in a couple of days.'
Cherie rolled the parchment and with a whistle a small tawny owl flew into the room and obediently stuck it's leg out to receive the short letter before flying off into the distance, the snow falling freely around it.
Lily was sat at the edge of the couch in the family room of her parent's house, her mouth agape as she looked at her petite sister and the rounder Vernon with his hand upon her shoulder. His caterpillar-moustache still hadn't grown in.
"Oh, my!" Her mother gasped. "What a, what a surprise!" She went forward and hugged Petunia as their father shook Vernon's hand. Petunia wrapped her arms around their mother and Lily could see the small diamond sparkling on her left hand. Her own sister, engaged. And Lily didn't even have a boyfriend.
Petunia was giddy with excitement and as her parents pulled out a bottle of wine Lily couldn't take much more of it. In her sisters' eyes, Lily wasn't to be part of this celebration, and she knew it. A witch such as herself would only reluctantly be given an invitation, and she would never be her sister's bridesmaid.
"Lily," her mother called after her as she went to leave the room.
"Bathroom," Lily lied over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time and retreated to her room. She lay on the bed and stared silently at the ceiling, lost in her own thoughts.
After an exhausting morning of sledding down the street James and Sirius were sat by the fire drinking hot chocolates and playing wizard's chess.
"So, when are you going to ask her out?" James asked.
Sirius looked up alarmed. "What?"
James just smiled and took another sip from his steaming mug.
"No, I couldn't. She doesn't see me that way."
"Well, I distinctly feel Amelia doesn't find you as repulsive as you may think."
Sirius knitted his brows. "What gave you that idea?"
"I have barely heard her say two words before. Yet she spent nearly the whole night of the ball talking to you."
"She used to talk to Remus all the time, they never dated." Sirius pointed out. "Did they?" he asked as a sudden wave of concern washed over him. The marauders had vowed to never break the 'bro code'.
"No, but they were friends. Each as nerdy as the other." James stated. "When was the last time you read for pleasure. And magazines don't count." He clarified as Sirius went to respond.
Sirius took a long drink from his mug and swallowed slowly as he gazed into the flames in the fire grate. "Do you think I'd ever have a chance?"
"Yea, I do." He answered truthfully.
"Whatever. I'm sure I have about as much chance with Amelia, as you do with Evans." Sirius said jokingly as they heard a thump against a window outside. The boys looked towards the noise and saw an owl dizzily wobbling along the windowsill. James crossed the room and lifting the latch let the small bird inside. The stunned owl collapsed onto it's back and lay on the floor with its leg sticking in the air.
"Mum, you need to tell the elves to stop cleaning the delivery window; we've got another bird casualty!" James called into the house as he untied the note wrapped around the bird's leg.
"Wormtail?" Sirius guessed as James unraveled the letter. "Did he like his present?"
"No, not Wormtail. Nor Moony. " James said as the soft wafting of perfume came off of the paper as he read the delicate lettering that arched across the page. "Looks like you have a damn good chance with Lambeth, Padfoot."
"What are you on about?"
"You said you had as much of a shot with Amelia as I do with Lily, and this is from Miss Evans herself." James passed the evidence over.
In disbelief Sirius took the letter and read it over. "She wants to meet you in London before school starts? Whatever for?"
"It's obvious, isn't it? I have captured her heart!"
"Oh yea, and when would that have happened?" Sirius asked incredulously.
"When you were working it with the book-shy Amelia in the corner, I was cranking on the dance floor with Lily." James laughed and demonstrated one of his best moves. "Go on, ask Amelia out, what's the worst that could happen?"
"Uh, she could say 'no'!" Sirius asked.
"When has any girl ever said 'no' to you?"
"She's not just any girl." Sirius said pointedly.
"No, she's not just any girl. But you know that, and she knows you will treat her with the respect that she deserves." James shrugged. "I say go for it. Otherwise, we will have to change your animagus form from a dog to a chicken."
James stooped down and picked up the stunned owl who was still lying on the floor, its eyes moving around dizzily as it tried to focus.
"Mum, can you do something with this owl?" James called as he carried the owl off to find his mum, leaving Sirius alone in the room.
Sirius took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before rummaging through James' desk draws for a quill that wasn't broken and a piece of parchment free from creases and rude doodles. Head down he looked at the blank paper and considered what he should say.
"Dear Amelia.
Hi. How are you?
Would you like to go out..." he stopped mid sentence and scribbled it out.
"Hi Amelia.
Do you want to go on a da"... again, that draft didn't last long.
"Merry Christmas, Amelia.
From Sirius."
He cut the top half of the parchment off and folded the much shorter note at the bottom into a little oragami swan. With a wave of his wand, he enchanted the swan and it fluttered out of the window.
Christmas was always spent baking in the Lambeth household and each year, before their Christmas dinner, the family walked down to the hospital with piles of treats to brighten up the days of people stuck in the clinical wards on the jolliest day of the year. Cooling racks were all along the island bench, loaded with shortbread of all Christmas shapes and dozens upon dozens of fruit mince pies.
Her mother was whipping up another batch of icing as her grandmother pulled a rich Christmas cake from the oven. Amelia drew a tea towel from the drawer and piled a collection of treats in the centre of it along with a small, wrapped present. Knotting a ribbon and tag around the bundle, she went to the wide open fire grate and instead of grabbing a handful of glittery silver powder from the small pot upon the mantle, she reached for the smaller pot of blue powder and threw a pinch of it into the fire. The flames rose up in licks of pink and Amelia threw the small bundle into the flames where it soon disappeared.
As she went back to packing the Christmas goodies into wicker baskets for St Mungo's, Amelia looked out of the window and saw a tiny paper bird, barely visible against the snowy backdrop, fighting against the wind as it fluttered its way ever closer to the house.
In a roar of pink flame a parcel shot out of the fireplace and skidded across the floor where it landed beneath the Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner. Curiously, Remus walked over to the tree and pulled the newest present out from underneath it. A small tag was tied around the knot, addressing it to him, so he sat back on his seat and pulled it open in his lap. Amelia had been cooking again. He smiled to himself, pleased that she had forgiven him enough to continue with the usual Christmas treats that she sent him each year. This year, however there was a small wrapped parcel amongst the pies and biscuits. They never sent one another real presents.
He pulled the small, oddly shaped parcel from the middle and inspected it, surprised at its weight considering the small size. He slipped his thumb beneath the corner of the paper and pulled the cellotape undone, wondering what lay beneath the blue paper. A small amulet tethered to a leather strap dropped out from the paper with a note. Amelia's tidy handwriting curved its way over the page.
'Grandpa spent his whole life travelling the world, collecting amulets - this one needs to be with you. Carry this with you when the moon rises. It provides lucidity. It won't let you forget who you really are.'
He looked it over, turning the small stone in his hand. He couldn't believe she found him one of these. They were so insanely rare they were even believed to be myth in much of the world. His family had vainly looked for one - it wouldn't make anyone any safer, but it would make him slightly less of a monster. Legend has it he would recognize faces and feel human emotion; possibly the one and only thing that could ever resist the insatiable hunger that ate into him.
He smiled warmly as he put the necklace over his head and pulled the leather straps tighter around his neck. He would be able to go back to school this semester.
Peter was sat in front of the fire, eating candy from the heavy sack of Bertie Botts' in his lap, when his mother entered the room with an owl on her shoulder as she dried her hands on a tea towel.
"Dear, mail for you." She tucked the tea towel back into her apron and took the letter from the owl before handing the letter down to Peter and heading back to the kitchen, singing Christmas carols to herself.
As Peter tore open the letter from Remus, his father snored on in his armchair by the fire. Peter thought that perhaps he would have been better to get his dad a new pair of socks for Christmas, rather than another tie as he noticed his dad's big, hairy toe sticking out of a hole in the brown socks. His father's hands were crossed over his satisfied stomach, protruding full of that second helping of Christmas ham and trifle. Peter of course had followed suit.
Peter looked down to the letter in his hands and sighed. He couldn't wait to go back to school and be with his friends again.