Wizarding-notebook-text messaging:

James

Remus

Peter

Sirius

Monday 25th December

Being back at home—in his childhood bed, rather than chained to the wall of the cellar—caused Sirius' mind to revert to its old ways of waking him up at exactly six o'clock. In some ways, it was a good thing—he wouldn't be in trouble for being lazy, for example—but in another way, it was thoroughly annoying because today was Christmas Day, the one day of the year they were allowed to stay in bed until seven-thirty.

Grumbling under his breath, Sirius climbed out of bed and plodded through to his bathroom. He never could stay in bed once he was awake. Not just to lie there and do nothing. There needed to be some kind of activity happening. Finished emptying his bladder, Sirius took a quick shower and dressed in formal dress robes for Christmas breakfast, before looking around for something to do while he waited.

And that's when he remembered he had presents from his friends to open.

Pulling the three gifts from his trunk, Sirius examined the ones from James and Remus before tossing them onto his bed, ripping Peter's open as he walked over and flopped onto the mattress. As expected, Peter's gift was a selection of sweets and Sirius ripped open a packet of ice mice and happily popped one into his mouth. Peter could always be relied upon to provide food for poor starving wizards with an hour to wait until breakfast.

It was a tough decision but Sirius opened James' present next, saving what he expected to be the best for last. He was confused, at first, when the first thing to be revealed was a book, but when he turned it over and read the title, that confusion turned into a belly-fizzing excitement. Magical tattoos and how to charm them. Along with the book, James had given him a beginner's tattooing kit, complete with needles, ink, and enchanted artificial skin to practise on. Sirius flipped the book open and read the message James had written on the inside of the front cover. Twinkles, I think every club needs an official club tattoo, don't you? Love Sunshine.

If it wasn't for the fact that he still had one present left to open, Sirius would have grabbed some parchment to immediately start working on designs. Instead, he put James' present to one side, giving it one last grin, and picked up the gift from Remus. Whatever it was, it was bound to be brilliant.

He was unfazed by the unassuming notebook that was revealed when he ripped off the paper. Nothing Remus gifted would ever be that boring and obvious. There was definitely more to it. With that thought in mind, he opened the book, and on the first page, his faith was rewarded and he read the message there with a grin. Remus had worked out a way for them to communicate instantly, without owls. He was amazing.

Happy Christmas Moony. You're a genius. This is amazing, he wrote back on the first page, and then he turned to the next one.

Reading what was written there, he snorted and shook his head, pressing his quill to the page to reply.

When he was done, he checked the other pages in the book. There was one each for private conversations between him and James, and him and Peter, and there were pages for three-way conversations—which he assumed would be mainly used for planning birthdays and other surprises—but none of them had anything written on them yet. James and Peter were probably both still sleeping.

The book emitted a sound, not unlike the scratching of a quill on parchment, and he turned back to the second page to see Remus' messy scrawl appearing as if it was being written by an invisible hand. Apparently, he wasn't the only one awake at stupid o'clock on Christmas Day.

Thanks to his anxiety about the conversation he needed to have with Sirius the next day, Remus slept restlessly. Finally, at around six-thirty, he gave up on sleeping altogether and went to sit at his desk. He considered opening his presents, but he wanted to be in a good mood for that, and at that moment, he was far too nervous to enjoy anything.

The notebook was still there, exactly where he'd left it after writing the messages in it the day he went home, and with a shaky exhale, he reached out and opened it to the second page. The words he'd written were still there, gleaming at him accusingly.

It felt like hours that he sat there, waiting, but it couldn't have been because when he checked the clock, it was still only six forty-five. That's when it happened. He heard the distinctive sound of a quill scratching across parchment and glanced at the open book. There was nothing happening. He flipped the page back just in time to see the end of a sentence forming in Sirius' perfect cursive under his message.

Happy Christmas Moony. You're a genius. This is amazing.

Remus smiled. He didn't sound mad, but that might be for the benefit of the others. He flipped the page over again and waited. It took a couple of minutes, but finally, a message started to appear.

There's a lot to respond to here, so I'm going to take it one point at a time.

First, I think you're apologising for the wrong thing. It's not your fault we didn't "get a chance to talk" but it is your fault that I spent all day wondering if you hated me. Perhaps try apologising for refusing to look at me all day. While we're on the subject, I'm extremely upset that I didn't get a hug before I left to go home.

Second, I don't know why you think you took advantage of me when I'm the one who kissed you, but the way you've phrased your regrets makes me question whether you regret kissing me, or only that it happened when I was drunk. Please clarify this.

Third, if kissing me was wrong, I never want you to be right.

Fourth, I hope that my being in control of my actions isn't a prerequisite to you kissing me again, because being out of control is my natural state. I don't need alcohol for that.

Fifth, see the first point.

Sixth, I'll forgive you happily, once you apologise for the right thing.

Remus cringed at the first paragraph. He really had been a dick the day they came home. Sirius deserved nothing short of a heartfelt apology.

God, I'm sorry for making you think I hated you. Nothing could be further from the truth. I was ashamed and scared to see anger or pain in your eyes. Not very Gryffindor of me, I know. And I'm so sorry that I let you go home without a proper goodbye. Has everything been okay?

As for kissing you. I'm not sure what to say. Surely the fact that I kissed you back answers your question? You seem rather keen on repeating the experience, but my conscience is forcing me to point out that you have a girlfriend. Where exactly do you see her fitting into all this?

Remus tapped the words to send them to Sirius and sat back in his chair to wait for a reply. His cheeks felt like they were on fire. This was so embarrassing to talk about. Maybe it was better that they were doing this in writing. He'd be dying for the floor to swallow him whole if he had to look Sirius in the eye while he said these things. The sound of a quill on parchment came again, and he sat forward to read Sirius' reply as it appeared.

Thank you for apologising. You are forgiven. Everything's fine here. I've managed to stay on Mother's good side so far. Spending the entire day in Diagon Alley with Reg yesterday helped.

Your kissing me back would answer the question if it wasn't for the vivid memory I have of you telling me that boys kissing boys is unnatural. That muddies the waters somewhat.

We'll talk about Marlene once I know where we stand.

Reading the second paragraph, Remus pulled a face. Why had he said that? He'd never believed it, even when his mum said it. Sirius must have been so hurt.

I'm glad you're okay, and I hope you manage to stay on her good side.

Shit. I did say that, didn't I? Would you believe me if I said I didn't mean it? That I was panicking and just repeated what my mum said to me when dad told her I kissed a boy at the station? Because that's the truth. I don't think it's unnatural. It certainly didn't feel unnatural.

Sirius' reply only took a few seconds to appear this time, as if he'd written it without giving it a moment's thought. Which he probably had.

Did you like it?

Had he liked it? Remus' face was burning so much as he wrote his answer he imagined it was as red as a tomato.

Yes.

Me too. I have to tell you something about Marlene, but you have to Solemnly Swear not to tell anyone.

Well, that was intriguing. They didn't often ask each other to make the Marauder's most binding form of a promise. The last time had been when Remus told James and Peter about his lycanthropy. This must be important.

Alright. I Solemnly Swear not to tell anyone what you're about to tell me.

Thank you. Marlene isn't really my girlfriend. She fancies Meadowes, and she figured out I liked you, so we agreed to pretend to be together.

Remus' eyebrows shot up. He hadn't known what to expect, but it hadn't been that. But he could see it. The loud, confident blonde and the quieter, more serious brunette together.

That's… Wow. Dorcas. Really? They would make a cute couple.

Sirius replied immediately, and then again in quick succession.

Right?

Do you think we would make a cute couple?

Remus hesitated. Was Sirius asking as a joke, or was he serious? Before he could decide how to answer, another message came through, and then another.

Moony?

In case you're confused, I'm asking you to be my boyfriend.

Well, that certainly cleared things up. Remus put his quill to the page and wrote his answer, quickly tapping the words with his wand before he could change his mind.

Yes, I think we would make a very cute couple. Would you like to test that theory with me?

Sirius' reply didn't come for a minute, and when it did, it was confusing to say the least.

That depends. Are you alone right now?

Yes.

Three seconds after he sent the message, there was a loud pop behind him, and Remus spun around in his seat, startled.

'Hi Moonbeam,' Sirius said. He was standing in the middle of Remus' bedroom, wearing expensive dress robes that clung to his form like a second skin, and holding the hand of a house-elf. 'Thanks, Peony. Come back for me in two minutes.'

'Yes, Master Sirius,' Peony replied, then she disappeared with another pop, and Sirius grinned.

Remus couldn't help but match his smile with one of his own. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried. 'What are you doing here?'

'I came to give my boyfriend a Christmas kiss.' Sirius offered him a hand and Remus took it, letting Sirius pull him to his feet. 'Aren't you happy to see me?'

Remus' stomach was so full of butterflies he thought he might explode. 'What do you think?' he asked, letting Sirius pull him closer and tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

'I think you look pretty happy,' Sirius breathed against his lips.

Remus wasn't sure of much after that. He didn't know which of them closed the gap, or how his hands ended up in Sirius' hair. He had no idea if he was doing it right, but he was fairly sure the noises Sirius was making were a good sign. One thing he did know was it felt incredible, and that was confirmed further by the embarrassing situation going on in his pants.

He pulled back, and Sirius chased his lips, stealing one last kiss with a hum of pleasure. 'That was definitely worth the trip.'

Remus found he couldn't stop smiling. 'When can you come again?'

Sirius kissed him again, then pulled back, biting his lip. 'Fuck. I don't know. I'll write to you when I figure something out.'

Peony appeared in the room again with a pop. 'Is sir ready to go?' she asked.

'Yes, thank you, Peony. Did anyone notice I was gone?'

She nodded. 'Master Regulus is waiting for you.'

'Did you tell him where I was?'

'Yes, sir.'

Sirius pulled a face. 'That's going to be a fun conversation.' Turning back to Remus, he smiled. 'I'll see you soon, Moonbeam.'

'Promises, promises,' Remus said. 'Be safe, yeah?'

'Of course,' Sirius said, taking hold of Peony's hand and winking. 'Have a good Christmas.'

And with that, Sirius and the elf popped out of the room, and Remus was alone again.

Climbing the stairs with a bowl of porridge in one hand and a potion goblet in the other on Christmas morning, Peter let out a heavy sigh. He loved his mum, but sometimes he wondered if this was all he had to look forward to when he left Hogwarts. Was he destined to spend the rest of his days in this house taking care of her?

He paused outside her bedroom door, taking a moment to clear his thoughts from his face before pushing it open and stepping inside. After placing his burdens on the bedside table, he turned on the lamp and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

She woke easily, a sign she hadn't been sleeping peacefully, and her eyes were filled with pain as she looked at him. It was a bad day. Peter hated it when it was a bad day.

'Morning, mum,' he said with forced brightness. 'Do you want your potion first, or your breakfast?'

'It's Christmas day today, isn't it?' she asked.

Peter nodded. 'Yeah, but it doesn't matter.'

'Of course, it matters,' she smiled at him. 'Help me sit up. I'll have my breakfast first today.'

'Are you sure? It looked like you were in pain when you woke up.'

She sighed. 'I'll be fine.'

So Peter did as she'd asked and, once she was upright, fed her the porridge, before helping her out of bed to use the toilet.

'I really think you should take your potion now,' Peter tried again when she left the bathroom. Every muscle in her face was tense with pain, but she hadn't made so much as a squeak.

'Stop fussing. It's Christmas. I can manage for a few hours. Help me down the stairs.'

Peter let her take his arm and helped her. Most of her weight was supported by the bannister, he was just there for extra stability. 'But you don't have to.'

They'd reached the bottom of the stairs and she looked at him, putting her hand on his cheek. 'I want to, Peter. You deserve a Christmas.'

So Peter relented, and once he'd made her as comfortable as possible in her chair, he set about making tea for them both.

'Why aren't there any decorations?' she asked when he came back carrying the tea-tray.

He shrugged. 'Didn't see much point. I'll only have to take them down again.'

'I'll vanish them after nan leaves, and then you won't have to. Where's my wand?'

Peter reluctantly fetched it from her room and handed it to her, and she spent a few minutes conjuring decorations and draping them artfully around the room, showing Peter just how much easier it was going to be to set up for a party when they were older. She looked exhausted when she was done, but she was smiling.

'There. Much better. Feels like Christmas now.'

'It looks great, mum,' Peter said, trying to keep the worry from his voice. She wasn't really supposed to do a lot of magic. The specialist had said her core was fruitlessly struggling to repair all the internal scarring left from the muggle medicine, and any additional strain could cause mental decline. But how was he supposed to tell his mum no? She was the adult.

'I can see you worrying from here. Take a day off from it, won't you?'

'I'll try.'

'Good boy. Now, I had Arabella pick up a little present for you. It should be in the drawer over there.' She pointed at the drawer in the T.V. stand.

Peter went and opened it, and sitting right on top was a small box wrapped in white paper covered in little pictures of reindeer. It was a nice gesture, but his heart clenched thinking about how he would make room in the budget to pay for whatever this was.

'Thanks, mum.'

'Are you going to open it? Or just stare at it?'

Peter rolled his eyes and ripped the paper off, opening the cardboard box inside. It was a mug, emblazoned with the words "World's no. 1 son."

'I know it's not much.'

'No, mum, this is great. Thank you.' He gave her a careful hug, and she kissed his cheek.

'It's the truth, you know? You really are the best son.'

Peter smiled. 'Are you going to take your potion now?'

'No. I'm going to sit here and drink this lovely tea you made me, and you're going to tell me all about school.'

He sighed but didn't argue. If she just stayed in the chair, it wouldn't be too bad.

The miniature beaters adorning James' quidditch themed alarm clock rose into the air at five o'clock on Christmas day and pelted James with tiny bludgers until he woke enough to yell at them to stop. A few seconds later, he sat bolt upright, grinning into the darkness of his bedroom.

'IT'S CHRISTMAS!' he yelled at the top of his lungs before leaping out of bed. The shout was the only warning his parents got before he came barrelling into their room, leaping onto the bed between them. 'Good morning, wonderful parents of mine!'

'Aren't you getting too old for leaping into our bed at five am on Christmas morning?' his mum grumbled.

His dad already had his glasses on and matched James' scandalised expression. 'Don't be ridiculous, Effie. You're never too old for Christmas.'

'You're nothing but an overgrown child, Monty. James dear, why don't you take your father downstairs and do something quiet for an hour?'

'I think mum wants some more sleep,' James said, acting as if this wasn't exactly what happened every year.

'I think you're right, son,' his dad said. 'Let's go make her breakfast in bed, shall we?'

James grinned and nodded, and they crept out of the room.

One hour and three food fights later, James and his dad finished cleaning up the mess they'd made in the kitchen and levitated the trays bearing three plates of full English breakfast and tea up the stairs. James' mum was much more awake now and greeted their entrance with a smile.

'It smells delicious.'

James climbed onto the bed between them, and the three enjoyed their breakfast. This was possibly James' favourite Christmas tradition. Eating in bed was against the rules usually, but when James was three, his mum had declared Christmas an exception and allowed it for this one day of the year.

Once the food had all been eaten, the trays were placed on the floor beside the bed and James cuddled up to his mum while he opened his stocking presents. There was nothing expensive in this selection of gifts, but that didn't make them any less precious to James. He may have been spoiled rotten since the day he was born, but he'd also been taught the value of sentiment. Every gift in his stocking was handmade by one or both of his parents and was designed to show how much they loved him.

From his dad, there was a bottle of hair potion—a new recipe he was working on—to tame his wild hair, handmade broom polish fragranced with pine, and a selection of chocolate-coated berries home-grown in their garden. His mum was craftier than his dad, and her presents included a home-made quill—made using a feather from her own owl, a photograph he hadn't noticed her taking of James levitating the star onto the tree the day before with a proud smile on his face in a picture frame made from a mosaic of broken pieces of coloured glass, and a lumpy knitted jumper in the softest, Gryffindor-red wool.

'You knit now?' he asked her on opening the last one.

She shrugged. 'I saw those muggle jumpers you brought home from your shopping trip in the summer, and wanted to have a go at making some, so I learned.'

James pulled it on and grinned, hugging himself. 'It's so warm and soft. You did a great job. Thanks, mum.'

She pulled him into a sideways hug, kissing the top of his head. 'You're very welcome. Shall we go down and see what's under the tree?'

James nodded eagerly and scrambled out of the bed. The present opening downstairs was a slow process. James opened each of his gifts and admired it thoroughly, sometimes stopping to try it out for a bit, before opening the next, and after every few presents he opened, he insisted on his parents opening one of theirs. He saved the presents from his friends until last, and his parents tactfully left him alone, on the pretext of making lunch, while he opened them.

He opened Remus' first. There was no choice, really. The boy had been dropping hints about it for weeks and it was driving James crazy. He had to know what it was.

A notebook was not what he was expecting. He stared at the cover for a beat before shaking his head. There had to be more to it. Flipping the front cover, he grinned. Of course, there was more to it. Moony was brilliant.

Merry Christmas, Marauders! Moony, this is awesome! I agree with Twinkles, you're a genius! Have you opened your present from me yet? I hope you like it.

James tapped the text with his wand and watched the words glow for a few seconds, wondering if that meant it was working. He wasn't left wondering long. Only a few seconds had passed before he heard the sound of a quill scratching against parchment, and words began appearing on the page.

Good morning, Sunshine. I'm pleased you like it. I haven't opened any of your presents yet. I'm saving them for after dinner.

James frowned at the page. Remus had immediately replied to him, but not to Sirius, who had written first. Were they still mad at each other? Or had they talked it out on their private page? He turned the pages until he found the one titled Moony & Sunshine and contemplated what to say.

Sirius reappeared in his bedroom with a quiet pop to find Regulus sitting on the end of his bed. 'Thanks, Peony.'

She bowed and vanished with another pop.

'What are you doing here?' Sirius asked, crossing the room to him.

Regulus stood up and crossed his arms. 'A better question would be, what were you doing not here? I didn't risk everything so you could run around doing God knows what.'

'I had to see Remus about something. I was gone for two minutes. It's fine.'

'And what if Mother had wanted to speak to you?'

'On Christmas morning? Unlikely.'

Regulus frowned. 'You've got to be more careful, Sirius.'

'And you've got to lighten up, little brother. You're going to give yourself wrinkles with all that worrying.' Sirius bopped him on the nose with his index finger and spun on his heel, heading towards the bathroom. His hair was probably in a right state.

'What's this?' Regulus asked when he returned to the bedroom. He was flicking through the tattoo book, an expression of mild interest on his face.

'Present from James.'

'Every club needs an official club tattoo? What club are you in?'

'None of your business,' Sirius said, marching over and snatching the book back.

'Well, that was rude. And after I went to so much trouble for you, as well.'

Sirius rolled his eyes. 'I didn't know your help came with conditions, brother.'

'Is being nice to me so difficult for you?'

'It is when you're being a nosy little git.'

'I just want to know about your life,' Regulus said, making his eyes wide in an attempt to look innocent that was fooling no one.

'You know everything you need to know,' Sirius said, giving his watch an exaggerated glance. 'Oh, would you look at that? It's time for breakfast. Let's go. Can't keep Mother waiting.'

He shooed Regulus towards the door, tossing the book onto his bed.

The Black Christmas breakfast was a grand affair. Orion lorded it over the family from the head of the dining table, his wife sitting to his left and his heir to his right. Regulus sat beside Sirius. The spare. There to take his place if he died or was otherwise deemed unsuitable, a scenario that had seemed extremely unlikely to Sirius when he was younger, but seemed less so the older he got.

There was the usual spread of fresh-baked crusty bread, sausages, smoked bacon, eggs—both poached and scrambled—tomatoes, and mushrooms, but in deference to the festive season, the house-elves had added boiled ham, smoked kippers and a selection of miniature meat pies to the table. Of course, manners dictated they weren't supposed to actually take much of the food. Greed of any kind was considered decadent and unseemly.

It was one of the many things Sirius loved about Hogwarts. No one gave a damn about being decadent or unseemly, and Sirius could eat as much as he damn well pleased. He thought longingly of the spread that would be adorning the Great Hall at that moment—last year had been amazing—and then plated himself a small portion of the food.

He avoided incurring his mother's wrath during breakfast. Knowing both Regulus and Peter were relying on him to not get into trouble somehow made it easier to control himself, not to mention that he was in a thoroughly good mood after his early morning visit to Remus' house. He ate his food in silence, trying not to listen to his parents' conversation about boring adult things. Instead, he kept his mind occupied with memories of Remus' lips on his, and Remus' hands in his hair.

After breakfast, Orion led his family through to the drawing-room where they would await the rest of the Blacks for the annual who-has-the-best-taste competition disguised as a present exchange. Sirius stifled a shudder as he entered behind his mother. This room always made him feel uneasy, and he avoided it as much as he could. The tastefully small tree surrounded by presents in the corner was the only source of brightness in the dimly lit but objectively beautiful space.

The enormous fireplace dominated one wall, flanked by glass-fronted cabinets filled with artefacts Sirius preferred not to think about. Two large sofas sat in front of the fireplace with a table between them, and at the other end of the room was a grand piano. All the furniture was crafted from mahogany wood, and all the soft furnishings in the room were the same shade of dark green. The wall to the right of the fireplace held three large arched windows, but they were covered by heavy green velvet drapes to protect the expensive rug from being damaged by the sun. Opposite the windows was the family tree; an enormous tapestry depicting their pureblood line as far back as the Middle Ages, each individual connected to their immediate relations with golden thread.

The tapestry was enchanted to add children the moment they were officially named, and spouses as soon as the bonding ceremony was complete. Sirius' gaze raked the bottom of the tapestry, searching out Andromeda's name, wondering what his mother had done about the appearance of a muggle-born on her beloved tapestry. But she wasn't there. Bellatrix was there, and Narcissa, but the spot between them, where Andromeda should have been, was nothing but a burnt circle.

Sirius swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat at the sight and looked away. She'd burned her off the tapestry, like she'd never existed, just for falling in love. He'd noticed the other burn marks on the tree before, but he'd assumed they were all squibs. Now he wondered how many of them had been disowned for being different, like Andromeda. Like him. Strangely, instead of fear, the thought filled him with a peculiar sense of belonging. He wasn't as alone in the family as he'd thought.

Remus had been expecting Christmas to be a sad and quiet thing filled with guilt because his mum was alone, and it was all his fault. But after Sirius' surprise trip to his room and the subsequent kissing, he floated through the morning hugging his happy secret to himself, and forcefully ignoring the fact that his mum definitely would not approve.

Remus left his notebook on the kitchen table while they cooked breakfast together, checking it periodically for messages, but there was nothing from any of his friends all morning. He was disappointed, having pictured them all writing back and forth continuously on Christmas morning, but he supposed they were all busy with their own families.

When the breakfast clean-up was concluded, his mum made them both a cup of tea and they took them through to the living room to cuddle up on the sofa under a fluffy, purple blanket and exchange gifts. Remus gave her the present he'd made at school, her own version of the notebooks he'd made for the Marauders. Hers was a single sheet of parchment, and anything she wrote would send automatically. Remus had linked it to a page at the back of his book. If they got a lot of responses to their advert in the Daily Prophet, Rieka was likely to be tied up for a while carrying replies to them and Remus didn't want to be out of contact on a full moon.

'This is wonderful, Remus. I won't have to wait until you can post a letter to find out if you're okay. Thank you.'

Remus smiled. 'I'm glad you like it.'

Her presents to him had, of course, been a new book series, and a large selection of chocolate, and when she switched on the T.V., Remus picked up the first of his new books, and cuddled up next to her to read.

It was coming up to lunchtime when he heard the sound of a message coming in. He grabbed the notebook and flicked to the first page, smiling at the message from James.

'I'm going to go to my room for a bit. You don't mind, do you?' he asked.

'No, of course not.'

As soon as he was alone, he grabbed a quill and wrote back. A minute passed before the noise sounded again, but no words appeared. Remus turned the page, hoping it was Sirius, but there was no new message there either. He finally found it on his private page with James.

I know Twinkles told me to stay out of it, but I just want to know if you two are still mad at each other? Or if you made up?

Remus chuckled. "Made up." That was certainly one way of putting it. But he suddenly realised that they hadn't talked about what they were going to tell James and Peter, and his smile collapsed into a frown. Sirius would want to keep it quiet so it didn't get back to his family, and Remus was fine with that. He didn't particularly enjoy attention. But he didn't want to keep it from his closest friends. Well, not forever, but a little while might be fun. How long would it take them to notice?

We had a long conversation this morning, and everything is fine now. It was just a misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about.

Oh, thank the gods for that. I was worried you two were never going to speak again. I'm afraid I can't stay and chat right now. Mum's calling me for lunch, but I'll have time to talk after dinner. Hope you're having a good Christmas. Love you, Moons. Bye!

That's fine. Hope you're having a good Christmas, too. And I love you as well, you nutter. Bye.

Remus turned back to the page he shared with Sirius and chewed his lip. Was it too soon to write him another message? Would Sirius think he was being clingy? Remus shook his head with a snort. What a stupid question. Sirius loved attention. He'd be thrilled Remus was thinking about him.

Hey. It's almost lunchtime and I haven't stopped thinking about your visit this morning all day. I hope the next time you come, you'll be able to stay longer. [Deleted]

Hi, I can't get you out of my head. How soon do you think you can visit again? [Deleted]

Hi, I really wish you didn't have to leave so soon this morning. I can't stop thinking about you. [Deleted]

Hi, It's only lunchtime and I'm missing you already. [Deleted]

Hey. I hope your day is going as well as possible. It's almost lunchtime as I'm writing this, but I think mum's planning dinner for mid-afternoon so we'll probably skip lunch. Don't worry, though. I have chocolate. Hope you can write soon.

Oh, I forgot to say. If you're running out of space on the page, put your wand tip against the page at the bottom and drag it up.

'Fancy showing me some of you new Quidditch moves while dad cooks dinner?' James' mum asked when he came back downstairs after putting away the presents from his friends. Peter had bought him a selection of muggle health-food bars in different flavours, and Sirius had given him a broomstick servicing kit. Remus' gift was by the far the best.

James grinned at his mum. 'Yes! Let me grab my broom.'

'I've got it,' she said, pulling out her wand. With a quick wave, his broom was soon whizzing towards him down the stairs. He caught it easily and followed her out to the back garden, grabbing the crate of Quidditch balls on the way.

At the very edge of the landscaped gardens, right before you crossed into woodland, there was a pair of small dilapidated outbuildings. Sheds really. His dad had been talking about doing something with them for years but had never got around to it. And that's where his mum was heading.

'I can't fly in the woods mum, where are you going?'

She shot him a mischievous grin. 'Come here.'

James walked over and let her position him so he was standing dead centre between the two outbuildings, facing them.

'Now say "Let's play Quidditch."'

James looked at her doubtfully. 'Why? Are you playing a joke on me? Did dad put you up to this?'

'So suspicious. Just do it.'

'Let's play Quidditch,' James said, looking back at the buildings. The two wooden structures vibrated for several seconds before sliding in opposite directions for at least 250 feet, taking the woodland with them. An oval fence grew up out of the ground between them and, at each end, three poles with hoops on the end shot into the air.

'It's a quidditch pitch,' James said, gaping in awe. 'What the hell?'

'We're so proud of you for making the team, son,' his dad said behind him. He must have snuck out to watch James' reaction when he wasn't looking. 'And we thought you might need somewhere to practise properly during the holidays.'

His mum gave him a nudge. 'Go have a look. Oh, hold on. You'll need this.' She pulled a red dragonskin wristband from her pocket and gave it to him. It seemed a little big, but when he slipped it over his hand, it shrank to fit comfortably—secure, but not too tight.

With another nudge from his mum, James walked towards the pitch, still in shock. He'd never expected anything like this. There was a little gate in the fence, and he opened it, stepping through and looking around. The pitch was composed of perfectly manicured grass, and he could feel the built-in cushioning charms as he walked across it. It wouldn't hurt at all to fall off his broom, not that such a thing ever happened to him. He squinted into the distance. At each end of the pitch, up against the sides of the outbuildings, he could see what looked like people sitting on a bench. Jumping on his broom, he flew over to take a look.

They were dolls, mannequins, maybe. Seven of them. And they were all dressed in quidditch gear with a broom in one hand, and bands similar to his own on their wrists, except these were green. Two of the mannequins held beater's bats in their other hands. He flew back to his parents and landed in front of them.

'What are the dolls for?'

'Why don't you release the balls and find out?' his mum said, with that same mischievous grin she'd been sporting earlier. She was enjoying this.

'Pass them over, then.'

His dad opened the gate and handed him the chest, and James placed it at the edge of the pitch. 'All of them?'

'Absolutely. Can't play a proper game of quidditch without all four balls, can you?'

James' stomach fizzed. He was starting to think he knew what the dolls were for, and if he was right, this might just be the best present he ever received in his entire life. It would never be beaten. With one last glance at his grinning parents, James unlatched the lid of the chest and threw it open. The snitch immediately took off and whizzed out of sight, and at the same time, one of the mannequins on both benches sprang to life, mounted their brooms and flew into the air, circling the pitch. James grinned and reached out to unchain the bludgers that were fighting to escape, keeping his head well out of the way. The moment they were free, they too shot into the air, and this time four mannequins sprang to life and joined them. Lastly, James picked up the quaffle, causing the remaining four mannequins on one bench to mount their brooms, and three of the four on the other.

Craning his neck and shielding his eyes from the winter sun with his hand, James stared up at the thirteen mannequins flying around above him. The Seekers were circling, far above the rest of the players, while the Beaters had taken up starting positions, hovering in the corners of the pitch. The Keepers were guarding the goal hoops, and the Chasers on one side had formed a triangle, while the Chasers on the other were one short, waiting for him to join them.

'This is amazing,' James said, finally looking back at his parents. 'Thank you.'

Neither of them had stopped smiling the entire time he'd been discovering his present, and their grins only widened at his words. 'You deserve it,' his mum said. 'Now go play. They're waiting for you.'

James mounted his broom with the quaffle under one arm, grinned at his parents, and then pushed off, letting out a whoop of sheer joy as he zoomed into the cold winter air.

Sirius forced himself to walk calmly as he left the drawing-room, levitating his small pile of gifts ahead of him. It wouldn't do to raise unwanted questions by appearing too eager to return to his bedroom. Regulus walked beside him, having been similarly dismissed after the presents had all been opened. The adults wanted to talk undisturbed by the children.

They didn't speak until they reached the privacy of the fourth floor. Their bedrooms were the only rooms in use on the top floor of the house, and no one could be close enough to overhear them without being seen.

'You're not going to leave again, are you?' Regulus asked, pausing in his act of opening his door and looking over his shoulder at Sirius, his hand still on the doorknob.

'I don't have any plans to.'

'Don't make me tell Peony to not take you out of the house, Sirius.'

Sirius pulled a face. Their mother had been delighted with Regulus' gift, smirking when the elf had acted out the process of being forced to her knees. 'It's Phunguss, now.'

'No, she's my elf, and her name's Peony. It doesn't matter what Mother decides to call her. And don't change the subject.'

Sirius groaned. 'What's the point in having her if I can't use her to get me out of this hellhole for a few minutes occasionally?'

'Just use your brain. It's Christmas day. We're expected to be available. It'll be different in the summer.'

'Whatever, Reg. I'll see you later.'

As soon as he was inside his room with the door closed, Sirius went to his bed and pulled his notebook out from where he'd hidden it under the pillow. Flopping onto the bed on his stomach, he opened it. On the first page was a message from James and a reply from Remus, but nothing yet from Peter. But on the next page was a message from Remus. He smiled as he read it. It was a bit stilted. Very polite. Sirius chuckled. He'd bet his entire inheritance Remus had written several messages before finally sending this one. He was adorable.

Hello, my beautiful Wolf Boy. I miss you too, but Reg has forbidden me from catching another ride with Peony today. So you'll have to make do with the memory of this morning for now. Are you replaying it in your head as much as I'm replaying it in mine?

Sirius sent the message with a tap of his wand and twirled his hair around his finger, kicking his legs in the air, while he waited for a reply. He felt like there was a cauldron in his stomach boiling over, and he couldn't keep the stupid smile off his face.

I never said I missed you. But yes. Yes, I am. I seem to be unable to think about anything else.

You did say you missed me. Maybe not in those words, but I speak Moony quite fluently now. "Hope you can write soon" equals "I miss you. Please come back and snog me until my knees melt."

That probably wouldn't take very long, to be honest.

Argh. Don't tempt me, Moony. I'm already having to bite my tongue to keep from calling Peony.

I can't believe you would pick now to develop self-control.

Also, don't bite it too hard. I happen to like that tongue.

Gasp! Moony, you flirt! What have I done to you?

You've corrupted me, Twinkles. But I don't think I mind too much. Actually, I wish you'd come and corrupt me some more.

Sirius groaned and buried his face in his pillow. Remus was killing him.

I want to, Moons. I do. You have no idea how much, but I can't. My mother could quite literally send a house-elf up here to get me at any moment.

I get it, and I want you to be safe more than I want to kiss you again. Not by much, mind. I really want to kiss you again. But it's not worth the risk when we'll be back at school in two weeks.

I can't wait to be back at school.

Me too. But we need to talk about that. I'm guessing you want to keep this quiet?

Sirius hadn't thought about it, but Remus had a point. If his parents found out that he was openly involved with a half-blood boy, they'd be furious, and that's without adding the lycanthropy to the equation. He'd become another burnt circle on the tapestry. But would Remus be offended if he said he didn't want anyone to know?

Would you mind? I can't risk my parents finding out.

Of course, I don't mind. You know I don't like attention, and people will definitely stare if they learn the most attractive boy at school is with me. They'll think I slipped you a love potion.

They all must be blind and stupid if they think you'd need a love potion to turn my head. You're gorgeous, Moonbeam.

And you're mad, but I'm not complaining. What about Bubbles and Sunshine?

Do you mean, are we keeping it from them, too? Because the answer to that would be no. Not unless you want to?

I thought it might be funny to not tell them, and see how long it takes them to notice.

You're right. That would be funny. Let's do that.

We should probably talk a bit on the group page then, so it doesn't look suspicious. I told Sunshine we made up.

Mmm. I enjoyed making up with you. We should make up more often.

Agreed. At least a hundred times a day.

Make it a thousand and you have yourself a deal.

Mmm. Deal. Now go write something to Sunshine on the group page.

Ooh, bossy, Moony. Yes, sir.

Sirius grinned and flipped the page back.

Merry Christmas, Sunshine. Unlike Mr Moony, I don't have the patience to wait until after dinner to open presents. What even is that? I opened them the moment I woke up this morning, and I absolutely love my gift. Thank you. I'll work on some designs and practice during the holidays. Are you really going to let me give you one? Bubbles, when you finally get around to opening your present from Moony and see this, I love your present too. It gave me something to eat while I waited for breakfast.

It's called self-control, Twinkles. I know that's a topic you don't know a lot about. Also, I'm dying to know what Sunshine gave you for Christmas. Designs? Give him one? What on earth could you be talking about?

Sirius chuckled at Remus' reply. Considering he'd just been complaining Sirius had too much self-control, it was a bit cheeky.

Tattoos, Moony! Sunshine very kindly gave me a book on creating magical tattoos, and a kit to practise with. He also suggested I should design an official Marauders tattoo. Are you up for it? Will you let me get my hands on that gorgeous body I know you're hiding beneath those enormous jumpers you always wear?

Absolutely not. You aren't coming anywhere near me with a needle, Mr Twinkles. Not in a million years. I doubt tattoos would work on me, anyway.

What about without a needle? Can I get my hands on you then?

Try it and find out.

Oh, gods, what did I just walk in on? You two do realise you have your own page for flirting on, right? And Moony, I have no page left, and the first messages have disappeared.

Press your wand on the page and drag it up and down.

Oh. Wow! That's so cool. So is this everlasting, then? Will the messages ever be forgotten?

No, they should stay forever unless you cross them out.

That's brilliant. I can't believe Bubbles hasn't opened his yet. He must be having too much fun. Oh, One sec. Mum's calling me.

Is it me, or does Sunshine seem happier than usual?

Is that even possible?

Before this, I would have said no. I bet he's doing that weird vibrating thing he does.

Oh, you mean when he bounces on his toes really fast?

Yes, exactly.

If you saw what my parents gave me for Christmas, you'd know why I was in such a good mood.

What did they get you? I know you're absolutely dying to tell us.

How right you are, my dear Twinkles. You're never going to believe this, though. They gave me my own bloody quidditch pitch, complete with enchanted teams to play with. It's amazing.

You lucky bastard. I just got clothes, books, and a new watch.

I got books and chocolate. But I wouldn't want a quidditch pitch, anyway.

Am I being an insufferable show-off? I'm sorry.

No. Not at all. We're really happy for you, aren't we Twinkles?

Yes. I got everything I wanted today, anyway. You can keep your quidditch pitch.

I got everything I wanted today, too.

Sirius beamed at the page when Remus' words appeared. He'd smiled so much in the last hour his cheeks were hurting, and his chest was so filled with emotion he felt like he might burst from it.

I'm glad you're both happy. You know you're more than welcome to come and use my pitch whenever you want, Twinkles.

You too, Moony, but I know you won't want to.

However, my parents do have a rather extensive library that you might enjoy.

That sounds wonderful. I'll curl up in there while the rest of you freeze your butts off playing quidditch.

The distinctive pop of house-elf apparition made Sirius look up from the notebook.

Kreacher barely dipped his head in a mockery of a bow. 'Dinner is served, Young Master Sirius.'

'I'll be down in a minute.'

Kreacher disapparated again without responding, and Sirius scribbled a goodbye message before hiding the book back under his pillow.

Have been summoned for dinner. Talk to you all later.

Peter's mum finally agreed to take her potion at midday, and she promptly fell asleep. It had been nice to be able to have a proper conversation with her, but Peter had felt guilty the entire time because she was putting herself through unnecessary pain for him. He didn't even really care about Christmas that much. The mug was nice, though. He smiled every time he looked at it.

His stomach was grumbling, so he went to the fridge to find something to eat. The options were limited. As much as he'd enjoy a hot meal, he couldn't be bothered to cook anything, and the only sandwich filling available was ham. So a ham sandwich it would have to be.

The sandwich made, he was returning to the living room to eat it when he heard a key turn in the lock of the front door. The noise was followed by a knock, and then the door opened.

'Peter? Are you there?'

'Bella?' Peter put his plate on the sofa and walked out to the front door. Arabella was standing in the hall, holding two plates covered with silver domes that were producing the most delicious smell. But her eyes looked red and swollen.

'Are you okay?'

She nodded and then shook her head. 'Yes, no, maybe. I'm being ridiculous, I think.'

'I'm sure that's not true.'

'Can we go to the kitchen?' She held up the two plates. 'I brought dinner. Roast turkey and all the trimmings.'

'Yeah, of course. It smells amazing.'

Peter fetched cutlery while she put the plates on the table, removing the covers before they both took their seats. The food looked fantastic. When Arabella said "all the trimmings," she really meant all the trimmings. Turkey, stuffing, pigs in blankets, roast potatoes, mashed sweet potato, roast parsnips, honeyed carrots, buttered peas, and bacon-fried sprouts. His mouth watered.

'You really know how to make a roast dinner.'

Arabella smiled. 'Thank you. I hope it tastes as good as it smells.'

'So, um, how come you're not eating with Mr Figg?'

She pulled a face. 'He was called into work.'

'On Christmas day?'

She nodded. 'Apparently, they can't manage without him, even for one day. It was right as I was serving everything up, too. And it's so stupid. It's just food. It's hardly important. But I kept thinking, if I was a witch, I could put all this under stasis and it wouldn't matter. But I'm not, am I? I'm just a useless squib, and the dinner will be ruined by the time he comes home.' With that, she burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

Peter wasn't sure what to do. He didn't usually have to deal with crying people. That was James' job, and sometimes Sirius' if it was Remus that was crying. But they weren't here, and Arabella needed someone now, so it was up to him.

He walked around the table and stood next to her awkwardly. 'Hey,' he said, putting a hand gently on her back like James did when Sirius was upset. 'You might be a squib, but that doesn't make you useless. If it wasn't for your help, I wouldn't be able to go to school.'

'Can't save my husband's dinner when he gets called into work, though, can I?' she said.

Peter chewed his lip. He really wasn't good at this. 'I could put a stasis charm on the food for you?' he offered.

'You're not allowed.'

He shrugged. 'My permit covers stasis charms. They're needed for brewing.'

She seemed to consider it for a moment, wiping her eyes on the ends of her sleeves, but then shook her head. 'It'd look suspicious. He'd want to know how I kept it all so fresh. Thanks, though.'

'I'm sorry all your hard work was wasted,' Peter said, giving her one last pat before returning to his seat. 'This must have taken ages.'

She gave him a weak smile. 'It's not entirely going to waste. At least you're enjoying it.'

While they ate, Peter told Arabella about his morning, and she was just as concerned about it as he was.

'She shouldn't be doing that much magic, especially with your nan coming tomorrow. Speaking of,' she said, reaching for her bag. She took out a tiny plastic bag and pushed it across the table to him.

'You got it,' he said, eyeing the white powder inside the bag, before looking up at her. 'I thought you said the guy you knew wasn't selling anymore?'

She shrugged. 'He gave me a few contacts to try, and one of them had what we needed.'

He sighed. 'I really hate doing this to her.'

'I know you do, but we don't have a choice.'

He knew she was right. If his nan came to visit and saw how bad his mum really was, she'd insist on moving in to look after him, and that would mean he had to hide everything magical. There would be no way to brew, and he wouldn't be able to attend Hogwarts. With another sigh, he reached out and wrapped a hand around the little bag of muggle drugs and slipped it into his pocket.

'We have to find something better for next year.'

Arabella left soon after they'd finished eating, as she wasn't sure how long Mr Figg would be out for and she didn't want him to come home to an empty house. Peter's mum was still sleeping, so he took advantage and began the process of removing anything magical and hiding it in his room. It took a good couple of hours, a large portion of which was spent searching for the Skulking Fluxroot, which he eventually found admiring itself in the mirror of one of the guest rooms.

'I'm sorry, but you have to stay in here for the next few days,' he told it as he shut the door to the brewing room. 'Muggles aren't used to plants that can get up and walk around.' He felt a little bad about shutting the plant in, but he'd put a mirror in there. It should be happy enough. Groaning with effort, he pushed the heavy bookcase across the floor to hide the door, before dusting his hands off and looking around for the next task.

'Where's my fucking dinner!' his mum bellowed from the living room, making peter jump. Shit. It happened rarely, but the potion occasionally induced a violent rage in the drinker, and it was just his luck that it would happen on Christmas day. The shout was quickly followed up with a crash and Peter hurried into the living room, hoping it wasn't the television.

His mum was standing in front of her chair, glaring at him as he stepped into the room. At first he couldn't see what had made the noise, but then he noticed the white shards of porcelain on the ground, and the brown liquid dripping down the wall.

Biting back the tears that threatened to fall from his burning eyes at the sight of his destroyed Christmas present, Peter held his hands up and approached her slowly. 'It's alright, mum. Why don't you sit back down and I'll get you something to eat?'

'Fucking good for nothing little bastard,' she said, lowering herself back into the chair, just as the floo flared bright green and James stumbled out of it.

He looked around wildly before his eyes alighted on Peter. 'Mate, you okay?'

'Who the fuck is that?' Peter's mum growled.

'It's my friend, mum,' Peter said, Then to James, 'What are you doing here?'

James eyes darted to Peter's mum and back again. 'Had a feeling you needed help.'

Dammit. His mum's yell must have set off James' alarm.

'I'm fine. Mum's just in a bad mood. You can go.'

'I'm not in a bad mood, you little shit. I'm hungry! Get my fucking dinner.'

James' eyes widened in shock, but he looked Peter's mum in the eye and said very politely. 'We'll get it now, Mrs Pettigrew. So sorry to keep you waiting.' Then he grabbed Peter's arm and dragged him through to the kitchen, closing the door behind him. 'What the hell? Is she always like that?'

Peter shook his head, 'I told you what my dad did.'

'Yeah, but you made it sound like your mum was nice.'

'She is, most of the time.' Peter started pulling things out of the fridge to make his mum something to eat. 'After dad beat her up, he left. Just walked out and left her battered on the floor. I didn't know what to do. I was only nine. But I'd seen ads on the T.V. saying in an emergency you should dial 999. So I did. I should have flooed St Mungos. But I called a muggle ambulance, and they took her to a muggle hospital.'

'I'm not sure I understood half of what you just said.'

'The point is, the muggle treatment kept her alive, but not everything healed right. She's in pain all the time. She sees a specialist at St Mungos and he prescribed this potion for the pain. It works, but occasionally she has these rages.' He waved towards the door. 'It doesn't usually last very long, and she always gets really sad after. I think she feels guilty about it.'

James reached out and carefully took the knife Peter was using to aggressively slice a carrot and placed it on the counter before pulling him into a hug. 'That's shit, mate. That's really fucking shit.'

Peter pulled out of the hug and wiped his eyes with the end of his sleeves. 'Thanks. I needed that.'

'Anytime.'

'What did you tell your parents?'

James shook his head. 'Didn't. Just heard you in my head say, "Please, not today," and freaked out. Thought your dad had turned up or something. Went straight to the floo. Hopefully, they won't notice I'm gone.'

'You should go. I think she's calmed down now.'

James nodded and followed him back into the living room to find it empty. Shit, now he'd have to go find her.

'What's that?' James asked, nodding at the remains of Peter's mug.

He sighed. 'It was my Christmas present. She smashed it.'

James frowned and chewed his lip. 'I'm sorry, mate. You're having a really shit day, aren't you?'

Peters' throat constricted, and he knew if he spoke, he'd start crying again, so he just nodded.

James stared at the broken shards for a moment, then nodded to himself and moved towards them. Crouching, he carefully collected all the pieces, using the bottom of his jumper as a pouch to hold them, and stood back up. 'I'll take this home. My mum's a whizz at this kind of thing. I bet she can fix it.'

'You don't have to do that. She'll know you left without asking.'

'It's fine. She'll only be a little mad. Open your Christmas present from Remus, yeah?' James said, walking over to the fireplace and peering at the mantlepiece. 'Where's your powder?'

'It's in the blue dish,' Peter said. 'Why Remus'?'

'You'll see,' James said, chucking a handful of powder into the grate and stepping in. 'Potter manor.'

He disappeared, and the flames died down, turning back to their natural orangey-yellow. Peter stood there for a minute, considering, and then he shook his head and went looking for his mum. Presents would have to wait.

'I've been thinking,' Remus said, as he sat drinking tea with his mum after dinner. 'I might want to cut my hair.'

His mum's eyebrows went up in surprise. 'Not what I was expecting you to say. What's brought this on?'

'Don't know,' Remus said with a shrug. 'Seems like it's time.'

'How short were you thinking?'

'Really short. Above my ears.'

She nodded, taking a sip of her tea. 'Alright. Do you want to do it now?'

'Yeah,' Remus said. 'Yeah, I do.'

It took a long time, but Remus sat quietly on the chair in the middle of the kitchen while his mum carefully trimmed his curls, watching as the mass of golden-brown hair accumulated on the floor around him.

'There,' she said, finally, stepping back to admire her work. 'Go have a look in the mirror and see what you think.'

He approached the mirror nervously, not sure what to expect. The whole thing had been a bit of a spontaneous decision. Because he felt different since finding out Sirius, of all people, fancied him. More confident. At first, he'd been disbelieving. What could Sirius possibly see in him? But Sirius, as persistent as ever, had convinced him it was true. They'd be hiding it from almost everyone, of course. But Remus didn't feel like he needed to hide behind the thick curtain of hair anymore.

The first thing he looked at was the brutal scar carved into his neck, now clearly visible. Usually, when he saw the scars, he immediately averted his eyes, but this time he stared at it, turning and angling his head to get a better look. Sexy, Sirius had called them. He supposed it did make him look like a bit of a badass. He smirked and let his eyes trail up to his new haircut.

Shaved at the back and sides, it was now nothing but a mass of messy curls on the top of his head, flopping into his eyes. He pouted at his reflection and then broke into giggles. His friends were going to freak when they saw him.

'Remus, your notebook is making noises. Is it supposed to do that?' his mum called from the kitchen.

'Yes, mum!' He went back to the kitchen, smiling. 'I love it, thank you.'

'You look great,' she said, smiling. The notebook made another noise, and they both turned their heads to look at it. 'Right, I need to get all this hair cleaned up. You should probably see what that's about.'

Agreeing, Remus grabbed the notebook and retreated to his room.

Happy Christmas, guys. This is really cool, Moony. So much better than owls.

Isn't it, though? We'll be able to talk in class without being caught, too.

That's true. I can't believe your parents gave you a whole quidditch pitch for Christmas, Sunshine. That's insane.

I know. But I can't wait for you and Twinkles to come and play on it. It's so much fun.

I bet. I can't believe you gave Twinkles a tattoo kit, though. Are you mad?

Hey! I resent that!

Oh, hi, Twinkles. Happy Christmas. Thank you for the cauldron. It's so cool.

Happy Christmas, Bubbles. I'm glad you like it. Still mad at you for questioning my artistic skills, though.

I wasn't. You're a great artist. I was questioning your impulse control. Bet you have at least one tattoo by the time you come back to school.

Remus laughed and grabbed his quill to join in.

Only one? I'd bet three.

One of them will be your name, Moonbeam.

Don't you dare!

I'm kidding… I think.

Ugh. Mum's just told me I have to go to the Greengrass' Christmas party tonight.

Maybe it won't be as bad as you think.

I wish. It always sucks. There's this kid that goes every year. He's older than me and uses that to be a complete dick.

You never know. This year might be different.

It's not like you to be so optimistic. What's got into you?

Nothing. Just had a good day, is all.

I had quite an excellent day, too. I think the morning was the best part.

Strange. The morning was my favourite part, too.

The afternoon was my favourite. Playing quidditch is the highlight of any day. What did you two do in the morning?

Remus laughed out loud. Wouldn't James like to know?

Opened my presents from you three, of course.

The notebook made a noise, but no words appeared, so Remus flipped the page in time to see the end of the sentence forming.

My bonus gift from you was my favourite, though. Did you open my present yet?

Realising he hadn't, Remus grabbed the three gifts from his trunk and tore the paper off. Peter's was the usual selection of chocolate sweets, which he appreciated. There was a book on spell creation from James, which he couldn't wait to look at. But Sirius' gift was a pendant; a crescent moon around a black circle filled with pinpricks of light. Stars. And they actually twinkled.

It's beautiful. Thank you.

James stood at the edge of the ballroom in his itchy dress robes and scowled at the boy on the other side of the room. He was taller than James, with heavy black eyebrows and a pointy chin, and at that moment he was talking to a young witch James was pretty sure was the daughter of their hosts.

'So is that the kid, then?'

Startled, James' head shot around to look with no conscious decision to do so. 'Sirius,' he breathed. 'What are you doing here?'

'Told you things might be different this year,' he said with a grin. 'My cousin married the Malfoy heir in the summer. The Malfoys are friendly with the Greengrasses, and so here we are.'

'That is extremely wonderful,' James said.

'It is, isn't it?'

'Did you bring anything?'

Sirius gave him a "What do you take me for, an amateur?" look, which was fair.

'Of course. But we need somewhere to plan.'

'There's a room just through there,' James said, nodding to a door on the other side of the ballroom.

'Meet you there in five,' Sirius replied.