27 December 1975

Prongs,

I know this isn't my place, but I've been thinking about it nonstop for the past week, and I think you should forgive Padfoot for what he did. Sometimes, I forget how miserable his family makes him, but I just saw page thirteen of that stupid newspaper on my dad's desk this morning, and I remembered.

If Snape really was taunting him about them that night, I'm sure that Sirius was genuinely not thinking when he sent Snape to the Willow. I'm not saying I understand what he did, or approve of it in the slightest, but I've decided I can forgive him.

I hope you can too.

Moony


28 December 1975

Prongs,

I know you're ignoring my letters. I didn't mean to offend you when I told you to forgive Padfoot. It was just a suggestion. You know that.

Look, the truth of it is that you and Sirius are more than best friends, and you know that too. You're brothers and I think he deserves a second chance. I know you agree.

Moony


29 December 1975

Prongs,

My dad and I ran into your mum at Madam Malkin's today. She was buying men's dress robes. Since when does your mum do your shopping for you?

Merlin, James, I haven't heard from you since the last day of term. Winter holidays end in less than a week. Peter's worried too—he wrote me yesterday. I understand you're still upset with Sirius, but do you have to take it out on us?

Moony


30 December 1975

Remus yawned, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled down Lavender Cottage's creaky staircase and into the kitchen for breakfast.

"'Morning, sunshine boy," Mum said, giving him a warm smile from where she and Dad were sitting at the cottage's small dining table. "There's eggs and bacon on the stove—help yourself."

"Thanks," Remus mumbled cheerlessly, retrieving his plate from the table and dragging his feet to the stove.

Dad glanced up from his newspaper, his expression amused. "Well, don't you sound chipper this morning," he said in a teasing voice. "Back to school blues already?"

"You could say that," Remus said glumly, forking several slices of bacon and two eggs onto his plate from the skillet.

"Oh, cheer up, love," Mum said encouragingly. "You've got four more days with us—and don't forget about New Year's at the Potters'. Their owl dropped off the invitation this morning."

Remus snapped his head around to look at his mother. "Invitation?"

"It's on the counter," Dad said, his voice muffled from behind the Daily Prophet. "We haven't opened it yet, but we assumed it was the invitation—it's addressed to all three of us."

Remus had already swiveled around and snatched the glossy scarlet envelope up from the kitchen counter. Sure enough, he found his and his parents' names printed on the back in elegant golden script. Heart sinking slightly, Remus set his plate down and tore open the envelope. This was the first indication of James's existence he had received all week, and it wasn't even from James himself.

Since the December of his second year at Hogwarts, Remus had attended the Potters' grand, glorious New Year's Eve party with his parents every year. It was a massive gathering: friends, family, Ministry officials, Quidditch players, potioneers—what seemed like half of Wizarding England. Last year, Remus had met Bathilda Bagshot, the author of A History of Magic. And the year before that, he'd met Bertie Bott, creator of the infamous Every Flavor Beans. James's parents were incredibly beloved.

Exhaling under his breath, Remus withdrew the familiar embossed invitation card from the envelope.

HELP US TOAST TO THE NEW YEAR!

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, along with their son James,
request the pleasure of your company as they ring in 1976.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31
9:00 p.m.
31 Brighton Lane
Godric's Hollow
Somerset

Remus stared down at the invitation for several moments. Then, numbly, he turned the card over—and he nearly dropped it.

Three words had been handwritten in the bottom left corner of the red card in bright blue ink. And as always, there was no mistaking James's untidy scrawl.

R
Come by early.
—J


31 December 1975

"I don't understand why you're in such a hurry to go," Mum called down the upstairs corridor after Remus. She was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, fastening a ruby earring, her mouth twisted into a confused frown. "It's barely eight—the party doesn't start until nine!"

Remus paused at the top of the staircase, turning to face his mother. "James asked me to come by early to help set up," he explained. "You know how many people the Potters invite every year."

"Remus, you should've mentioned that," Dad said, appearing suddenly at Mum's shoulder. He was wearing half-buttoned dress robes and a single sock on his left foot—Remus had to bite back a laugh. "We would've been happy to come help the Potters set up, too."

"The Potters would never let you help," Remus said quickly, tugging at his necktie. "Mrs. Potter would die before she allowed her guests to help with anything. I don't think she even knows James recruited me—or else she would've killed him by now."

Dad snorted with amusement, shaking his head as he turned and disappeared into the bedroom. "The Floo powder's on the mantel—I bought us a new packet at Diagon Alley yesterday."

"Thanks, Dad," Remus said in a rush, flying down the staircase. He glanced at his watch; it was ten past eight. Remus came to an unsteady halt outside the cottage's fireplace and seized a fistful of Floo powder from the little brown sack on the mantelpiece. Hurling it into the flames, Remus stepped into the grate and bellowed, "The Potters'!"

A moment later, Remus stumbled out of the Potters' fireplace and skidded into their sitting room, coughing up a mouthful of ash.

"Oh—Remus, darling!"

Remus swiveled around. Mrs. Potter, looking highly glamorous in robes of a sequined red material with huge bell sleeves, was standing in the parlor doorway, her lined face crinkled in her usual friendly smile.

"You're early," Mrs. Potter exclaimed, hurrying forward and enveloping Remus in a warm hug. Beaming, she pulled back and kissed each of his cheeks once. "No matter, no matter, come inside, dear—Monty! Remus is here! Could you fetch him a plate of hors d'oevres, love?"

"Oh—no, Mrs. Potter, please don't go to the trouble—" Remus began at once.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Remus Lupin!" called a booming voice.

Remus looked up. James's uncle Caradoc had just entered the room, carrying a glass of wine. He was grinning broadly, his round cheeks slightly pink as always.

"Good evening, Mr. Dearborn," Remus said politely, smiling. "How are you, sir?"

"Great Merlin, you will always be the most well-mannered teenager I've met," Mr. Dearborn burst out laughing, shaking his head. "It's Caradoc to you, son, as you very well know."

Remus grinned bashfully.

"Come, Remus—come along," Mr. Dearborn clapped Remus's shoulder, leading him toward the parlor doorway. The party was always held in the cottage's airy, high-ceilinged dining room, located across the hallway. "Believe it or not, punctual as you are, you aren't Monty and Fifi's first guest of the night. Damocles Belby arrived about twenty minutes ago. Monty's giving him a tour of his potions library upstairs."

Remus stopped dead in his tracks, his throat going dry. "Belby?" he asked hoarsely. "You mean—Professor Belby?"

Mr. Dearborn looked at him. "That's right—James did mention that Belby taught at Hogwarts for a year," he said excitedly. "Well, this is excellent! No introductions necessary—you must hear about all of the wonderful projects the young lad is working on. He's an excellent potioneer, Belby is—makes Monty look like quite the amature."

"Oh, Caradoc, as if Remus has any interest at all in listening to three fully-grown men discuss potions all night," Mrs. Potter said, rolling her eyes as she followed Remus and Mr. Dearborn down the corridor. "He's on holiday, for Merlin's sake." Shaking her head, she gave Remus an exasperated smile. "Go on up to James's room, dear. The boys should be changed and ready."

Remus blinked at her. "Boys?" he asked confusedly. "Is Peter here already, too?"

"Moony!"

Remus looked up. James, sharply dressed in dark red dress robes, was standing at the top of the staircase, his face split into a wide grin. Remus let out a silent breath of relief, setting off toward his best friend.

"Hey," he said.

"I thought I heard your voice," James replied. Then, he looked across the hallway at his mother. "We'll be in my room if you need us, Mum!" he called, seizing Remus's arm and dragging him up the nearby staircase.

"All right, but I expect all three of you down here and ready to greet guests by nine o'clock sharp!" Mrs. Potter called back.

Before Remus could even begin to understand what Mrs. Potter had meant by 'three of you,' James had dragged him up the cottage's staircase, past the study, where Remus could hear Mr. Potter's and Professor Belby's voices; he quickened his pace. When they reached James's bedroom, Remus reached out to pull open the door—but James threw an arm out to stop him.

Remus looked at him, bewildered.

"Sirius is in there," James explained in a low voice.

Remus's jaw dropped. "Sirius—?"

"He's in a bad way, no matter how much he pretends otherwise," James continued grimly, ignoring Remus's astonished splutters. "I just wanted to prepare you."

"Prepare me—for what?" Remus asked dumbly. "I don't understand—I thought you weren't speaking to him—"

"Yeah, well, that changed when he showed up at my doorstep four nights ago, frozen solid with a half-packed trunk," James said quietly.

Remus gaped at James. Suddenly, the mystery of James's radio silence, of Mrs. Potter buying men's robes in Diagon Alley—it all became clear.

"He ran away," Remus whispered, eyes wide.

James nodded, his jaw tight. "We've been trying to keep it quiet, my parents and I, in case his family comes 'round looking for him. We're not going to let it happen, obviously, but we aren't taking any chances. We figured he'll be all right showing his face at the party tonight, given how many other people will be here—and, well…you know my mum. She's ready to take it to the Wizengamot if necessary." James gave Remus one last serious look; then, stepping past him, James reached out and pushed open the bedroom door.

Numbly, Remus followed James inside.

Sirius was seated on a camp bed on the opposite side of the room from James's bed, wearing the same burgundy dress robes Remus had seen Mrs. Potter buying in Diagon Alley. He jumped, looking up as James and Remus entered—and his face turned white.

"Moon—Remus," Sirius gasped. "What're you—you're early."

"Oh, come off it, it's Moony," James scoffed, elbowing Remus in the ribs and snickering. "He'd probably show up to exams early if he didn't know we'd take the mickey."

Remus threw James a dirty look, but James merely smirked.

"I'm going to downstairs and fetch us some snacks," James announced, turning around and heading for the door. "Be back in a minute."

Remus watched James disappear down the corridor, his mouth open. Then, swallowing, Remus turned and glanced at Sirius. Sirius was staring at him—but he averted his eyes the moment Remus caught his gaze.

There was a heavy pause.

Then, Sirius cleared his throat. "Happy New Year," he said quietly, still not looking at Remus.

"It isn't even nine," Remus said, raising his eyebrows.

Sirius snorted. "You'll always be an insufferable swot, won't you, Remus?"

"Probably," Remus said lightly. "But one of us has to be, I reckon."

Sirius snorted again, shaking his head. There was another long pause.

Remus swallowed, walking across the room toward Sirius's camp bed. Slowly, he sat down next to his friend. Sirius stiffened slightly, but he didn't move.

For several minutes, the two of them sat in silence.

Then, at long last, Sirius looked up and met Remus's gaze. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his chin shook, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered hoarsely. "Remus, I'm sorry—"

"I forgive you," Remus said quickly. "I forgave you a week ago. You know that."

"Yeah, but I didn't deserve it," Sirius continued shakily. "I still don't—"

"Shut up," Remus interrupted.

"Remus—"

"It's Moony."

"I—Moony—I'm—"

"It's forgiven," Remus said firmly.

Sirius opened his mouth to argue, but then he blinked quickly and looked away, turning to stare at the wall of James's bedroom instead.

Remus gazed at his friend's profile for a moment.

Then— "You can cry if you want to," Remus said awkwardly.

Sirius let out a strangled bark of laughter, shaking his head.

"Blacks don't cry," Sirius said derisively, his eyes flashing. "My father taught me that when I was four." He paused, his expression unreadable. "That was the day Bella threw all my favorite toys in the fireplace."

Remus ignored the sick feeling in his stomach, as he continued to stare at Sirius. "Well," he said quietly. "Then, I suppose it's a good thing you aren't a Black anymore, don't you?"

Sirius's face went blank.

Then, very slowly, he looked up at Remus—and the very next instant, his expression crumpled, his shoulders sagging.

And just as Remus had done on an abandoned third floor corridor in Hogwarts, three years previous—the day Sirius had discovered that his cousin Andromeda had run away from home—Remus reached out and gripped Sirius's shoulder tightly, allowing his friend to shed the tears he had been raised to despise.


Author's Note:

I'm on a roll! God, I've missed you all :')

Here's hoping I can keep the momentum going!

Ari