Disclaimer: The characters and the magic still belong to J.K. Rowling. Have you ordered your copy of Order of the Phoenix yet?
Sirius's name for his motorcycle, the Shadow, and Sirius's father, Aeneas, come from "Black Shadow" by CLS. (If you haven't read it yet, look for the link on my "Favorite Stories" list.)
Cave CanemChapter Seven: The Investigation Begins
"Well, I spoke to all three of those clients to see if they'd speak with you," Charlotte Stirling said as she lifted a box of scrolls off the chair in front of her desk. She looked around for an empty surface to place the box.
James decided to solve two problems at once. He took the box from Charlotte, placed it beside the chair, and transfigured it into a second chair.
"Good idea," she said with an approving nod. James and Sirius sat down while Charlotte circled around behind her desk and unlocked the drawers with two taps of her wand and a touch of her hand. "Two are willing to meet with you. The third refused, but I can ask again if you still think it's necessary after meeting the others. The first one is a wizard named Marcus Redstone. He—you weren't planning on bringing Remus with you, were you?"
"No," Sirius replied, shifting guiltily in his chair. "We haven't told him about this yet. He already blames himself for his mother's death, and we didn't want to tell him about this if the murders turn out to be unrelated."
"Why?" James asked her.
Charlotte sat back in chair with a weary sigh. "Mr. Redstone is a rather new client of mine. Until recently, he worked for the Werewolf Control Unit."
"Bitten on the job," James thought.
"Unfortunately," Charlotte continued, "becoming a werewolf himself has not yet made him sympathetic to the problems werewolves face in our society. Instead," she paused to think how to express herself.
"It's made him hate other werewolves even more," Sirius finished for her.
Charlotte leaned forward with an earnest appeal written on her face. "Please understand. He's very angry about all the changes in life, and he needs somewhere to put the blame. He'll come around, in time."
"Maybe I should see Redstone without Sirius. Don't want them hexing each other." James glanced sideways at Sirius and saw him rubbing his thumb along his wand. "I'm definitely going without Sirius."
"Mr. Redstone's son, Dexter, was murdered two months ago. The Dark Mark was over the house."
"I think there was a Dexter Redstone at school with us," Sirius said to James. "About five years ahead of us, Hufflepuff."
James nodded. "He played Quidditch."
"That would be about the right age for Marcus's son," Charlotte agreed.
"And the other one who's willing to meet us?" James asked.
"Her name is Lydia, but she asked that I not give you her last name or her address." Charlotte opened her desk drawer and pulled out a folded and sealed parchment. "They can each meet with you tomorrow. This is the information on when and where." Sirius reached out for it before James could. "What can I tell you about Lydia? She's a Muggle. She was bitten four years ago. Her husband, Paul, was murdered just last month. His throat was cut, and he was left on the front step of their home. Their six year old daughter was with Lydia when she found his body."
"Oh God," James murmured. "No child should see that."
"I know that cutting throats isn't the Death Eaters' usual style," Charlotte said, "so it's probably unrelated."
Sirius shook his head. "Many Dark spells require the use of blood, and some Death Eaters just seem to like spilling blood."
"Like whoever killed Mrs. Lupin," James thought. The way Sirius looked, he was thinking the same thing.
"Is there anything you can tell us about the other murder?" James asked.
Charlotte nodded. "When I spoke to that client, he gave me some details. His father had just gotten into their car, which was parked in front of their house, when it blew up. Apparently, the Muggle police have experts who are very good at determining the cause of an explosion, but they never found any trace of a bomb or anything wrong with the car that would explain the explosion. They officially labeled it 'an explosion for undetermined reasons' or something of that sort. They labeled his death an accident, but my client insists it was murder."
"Why is he so certain?" James asked.
Charlotte shrugged. "He refused to say."
"Well," Sirius said as he stood up and grabbed his cloak off the back of his chair, "I'm not an expert on engines, but I do know enough to know that they don't blow up for no reason. If the Muggle experts couldn't find a reason, my money is on magic."
"There's one more thing," Charlotte said. "After I spoke with that last client, I started thinking about murders committed with magic being mislabeled accidents or natural causes by Muggles."
"So there are more." Sirius sat back down.
"Perhaps," Charlotte said. "I started making a list of all my clients who have had any deaths in their families recently, but Simon or I will have to speak with them before we can give you their names."
"Of course," James agreed. They respected Charlotte's need to preserve her clients' privacy.
"But, that list will only cover those I knew about and can remember. I think I should speak to everyone at Greystone in two weeks. The mislabeled deaths will be in Muggle families, and many Muggle werewolves come to Greystone for the full moon."
"Charlotte, you're brilliant," James said with a smile.
"However, if you want me to speak with everyone at Greystone, you'll need to tell Remus first. It'll be better if he hears this from you."
"Remus won't be at Greystone," Sirius said in confusion.
"Oh dear, I thought you knew."
* * * * *
James accompanied Sirius back to his flat. Sirius was angry, and although most of his anger was on Remus's behalf, he was also angry with Remus for keeping this a secret. James was worried that when Sirius confronted Remus, his anger might come through more clearly than his concern.
They found Remus sitting at the kitchen counter, reading the Daily Prophet. He was wearing Muggle clothes, black jeans and a white button down shirt.
"Probably Sirius's jeans," James thought. "That boy wears entirely too much black."
"Anything interesting in the paper?" Sirius asked as he circled around the counter to face Remus. James sat on a stool beside Remus and waited for tempers to flare.
Remus turned back one page and read aloud, "'Werewolf Registry Official Still Missing. Morris Burdock, an employee of the Werewolf Registry Department of the Ministry of Magic has been missing since the third of December. As the date he disappeared was a full moon, speculation is high that Mr. Burdock's disappearance is work related.' Good thing you have an alibi, Sirius, or I might wonder what you were up to without me."
Sirius smirked slightly. "Couldn't happen to a more deserving individual." Sirius's slight smile disappeared and anger crept into his voice. "But I'd rather talk about who suspects you, and why you didn't tell us."
"It's no big deal," Remus said lightly as he folded the newspaper. "Thanks to Charlotte's complaint regarding that night, we were both suspects. James, Lily, and Peter gave you an alibi," James nodded, "and my mum gave me one. You knew all that. I'm just back on the list of suspects because my mum died."
"That's bloody unfair," Sirius growled.
Remus shrugged. "You have to see it from their point of view. My mum did vouch for me, but just to the investigators who came to question us. She never testified under oath or under truth serum, and now, she never can." James saw that in Remus's lap, his hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles were white. "So, as far as the Ministry is concerned, I don't have an alibi."
"How bad is it?" James asked.
Remus forced a smile. "Fortunately for me, Burdock was very unpopular. The list of suspects is rather long, and I don't even seem to be at the top of the list. It'll be O.K."
"But in the meantime, you have to go to Greystone for the full moon, INDEFINITELY!" Sirius shouted. "This is fucking unfair!"
Remus glanced sideways at James and said, "Maybe it's for the best."
"Why didn't you tell us, Remus?" Sirius demanded. "Did you think we wouldn't notice if you didn't show up at James's for the full moon? Did you think we wouldn't want to help?"
"I just wasn't in a hurry to tell you, that's all," Remus said patiently. At least he was trying to sound patient. James heard a slight edge of anger in his voice. "I know what you two are like."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius snapped.
"Poor little Remus has a problem, and Saint James and my guard dog feel obligated to solve it."
"Saint James?"
"Sometimes I want to deal with my own problems." Remus headed for the door and grabbed his jacket off a peg. "I've got to go. I got a temporary job at a pub, and I don't want to be late on the first day." He opened the door and paused. "How did you find out, anyway?"
"Charlotte mentioned it, but she thought we already knew," Sirius grumbled. His anger with Remus had abated to annoyance.
"Charlotte? Why were you talking to Charlotte?" Neither James nor Sirius answered quickly enough, and Remus closed the door again. "Well?"
"It's just something we're looking into, and we didn't want to tell you until we knew more," James explained.
Remus looked down at the floor and took a deep breath before he spoke again. "So I keep a part of my life a secret, and you two interrogate me. Meanwhile, you are keeping from me a secret that apparently involves werewolves, and that's O.K. Don't wait up, Sirius." He slammed the door on his way out.
"He's wearing my jeans," Sirius said.
* * * * *
James puttered around the kitchen, trying to find something to keep him busy while he waited for Sirius to arrive. Sirius usually arrived by the backdoor—he said that the front door was for guests and the backdoor was for family—and James wanted to be ready to leave as soon as he arrived. If he weren't fast enough, Sirius would come in and would want to say 'hi' to Lily, but Lily wasn't quite up to a visitor this morning. She had had one of her occasional bouts of morning sickness and was still a little green. She had also made it quite clear that James was NOT allowed to tell anyone that she was pregnant.
"Not even Sirius, James. And trust me, if Sirius knows, I'll know, and I can make your life very unpleasant."
Lily kept saying that she wanted to get through the first trimester before they announced it—James assumed it was a Muggle superstition—but she had relented somewhat and said they could tell Sirius, Remus, and Peter on Christmas Eve.
Over the sound of the broom sweeping under the table, James thought he heard a low, growling rumble. "Finite incantatem," he said to the broom and the handle immediately fell into his waiting hand. The growl of a motorcycle engine grew louder, and James put the broom away in the kitchen closet.
"Bye, Lils," he called up the stairs. "I'll see you tonight, and I'll bring you some lovely, greasy fish and chips."
"You're evil, James Potter," she called back.
"But that's why you love me."
He hurried out of the house as the engine went silent. Sirius was still astride the Shadow, just pulling off his helmet and running a black-gloved hand through his hair. In his black leather jacket and tight jeans he was every father's nightmare.
"Oh God, I hope it's not a girl," James thought. "I'll have to worry about guys like him."
"Did Lily pick out your clothes for you this morning, Jamie Boy?" Sirius asked. "You look positively Muggle." He pulled a tiny helmet out of the pocket of his jacket, and it immediately began to grow large enough to fit James.
"That was the idea, wasn't it? And, no, she didn't," James replied. "She did pick them out at the store, but I'm not telling you that." He took the helmet but looked at it doubtfully. He didn't mind an occasional ride on Sirius's bike, but he could not understand the appeal it held for Sirius. "Give me a broom any day." "Couldn't we just apparate there? It'll be much faster."
Sirius gasped in mock horror. "Now what good would it do to let Lily dress you up like a Muggle and then arrive in such a non-Muggle fashion? Get on, Prongs."
"Not exactly Muggle transportation if we fly most of the way." James pulled on the helmet and then put on a pair of gloves that had been in his jacket pocket.
"We'll be down on the road when we
arrive, and that's what matters. Are
you going to get on, or do I leave without you?"
"Don't tempt me," James
replied, but he got on the back of the black and chrome motorcycle's seat and
grabbed fistfuls of Sirius's jacket as Sirius kick-started the Shadow back to
life.
A favorable tailwind meant that the two masquerading wizards entered the coffee shop five minutes early for their rendezvous. James scanned the room looking for someone who might be Lydia, in case she was early as well. The breakfast crowd was already gone, and it was too early for lunch, so only four patrons were in the restaurant. One was an older man, muttering to himself as he read a newspaper, two were a teenage boy and girl sitting together, and the fourth was a blonde woman approximately thirty years old. She sat alone in the booth farthest from the door and was staring at James and Sirius. James glanced behind himself at Sirius and nodded in her direction. She stubbed out a cigarette, the third in the ashtray, as they approached.
"Excuse me," James gave his best "trust me" smile as he spoke, "but we're supposed to meet someone here. Are you Lydia, by any chance?"
She nodded. "And you're Charlotte's friends?"
"Um-hmm." James slid into the booth across from Lydia and Sirius sat beside him. "I'm James, and this is Sirius. Thank you for meeting with us. Our condolences on your husband's death."
She nodded and toyed with the gold locket she wore on a chain about her neck, curving her hand around it protectively. "Charlotte told me that you're trying to find out if Paul's murder is related to other murders."
"That's right," Sirius said.
They all fell silent as a waitress came over to refill Lydia's mug of tea and take orders from Sirius and James. They both asked for tea to justify their presence.
Lydia spoke as soon as the waitress moved away. "I was having second thoughts about meeting with you, and then I got this yesterday." She took a piece of parchment out of her purse and pushed it across the dull white table. "An owl delivered it. I never got a message from an owl before, but at Greystone, I saw Simon send one that way once."
Sirius unfolded the parchment, holding it so James could read it too. "Do not discuss your husband's death with any wizards or witches. You failed to protect your husband; don't fail your daughter." Someone with excellent penmanship had written it in black ink with a quill.
"Do you want us to arrange protection for you and your daughter?" James asked immediately. He was impressed by her bravery; the threat had made her more determined to speak with them, not less.
Lydia shook her head. "My daughter doesn't live with me anymore. I'm only a fit parent three weeks a month; between first quarter and the full moon, I'm a real bitch." She smiled sadly at the pun. "I sent her to live with relatives shortly after Paul's funeral. I was going to move closer to them and share custody of Emily, but—but I called them after I got this note, and they're going to arrange for her to go somewhere even safer. Even I won't be able to find her." The waitress returned with the tea and Lydia resumed toying with her locket.
"Do you want protection?" James persisted when they were alone.
Lydia shook her head again. She opened the locket and held it out to show Sirius and James the two photographs inside, a little girl with blonde plaits and a man with the same smile as his daughter. "I've got nothing left to lose. I don't care what happens to me." She closed the locket again. "O.K., let's start at the beginning. About three months ago, a man showed up at the shop where I work. He knew my name, he knew what I was, and he knew about Paul and Emily. My boss started giving me dirty looks for talking to him, so I agreed to meet him at the park on my day off, just to get him to leave, you understand? I brought Emily to the park and talked with him while I watched her play on the playground with the other kids. He was saying all this stuff about how wizards and witches didn't treat werewolves fairly. That they treated us like vermin, and how unfair it was when werewolves are so much stronger and better than humans. You'd almost believe the bloke was a werewolf himself." She paused to light another cigarette.
"He wasn't?"
"Nah, he wore a silver ring."
"Could it have been white gold or pewter?" James asked. He knew that the pewter clasps on Remus's cloak passed for silver.
"Idiot shook my hand while wearing the damn thing." She took a deep drag of the cigarette and began to cough. "I gave up these ruddy things when I was pregnant with Emily. Stayed off them for her sake, and because I wanted to get pregnant again. Paul and I wanted another baby, but after I got bitten, I couldn't carry to term anymore. I couldn't make it through the first trimester without miscarrying. Three times, always during or just after the full moon. Then I gave up. Haven't met a female werewolf yet who has carried to term."
James reached out and held her free hand. Lily hadn't even felt the baby move yet, but James had often seen her with one hand on her stomach and a happy smile on her face. What could be worse than losing a child? Lydia had lost three babies and now had given up her daughter to keep her safe.
Lydia smiled weakly at him and crushed out the cigarette. "Then he started saying that I shouldn't let the Ministry of Magic force me into a cage at Greystone, that I could go somewhere else, a place where I wouldn't always be locked up."
"Where?" Sirius asked.
Lydia shrugged. "He wanted to use me, and I didn't want to be used. I told him to fuck off, I got Emily, and we went home. The next time I saw him was All Saints' Day. He was outside the church when I came out. He asked if I'd reconsidered. I said no, but I didn't swear this time; the priest was nearby. The full moon was a few days later. Paul was killed a week after that." She took a small sip of her tea, but made a face and put it back down. "Cold. I know I should've told Charlotte about the man, but the truth was, I wasn't sure it was related to Paul's death. That man never threatened my family or me. And, I was embarrassed that I had met with him at all."
"Could you describe him?" Sirius asked.
"About the same height as Paul, so about five foot ten, medium build, light brown hair. He was dressed in normal clothes. Sorry," she smiled in apology, "Muggle clothes, but he wore the same ones every time I saw him, as if those were the only Muggle clothes he had. Dark grey trousers, white shirt, a grey sweater, and a black overcoat."
"Do you think Paul's murder is related to the others?"
"We can't be sure," James said. "You're the first one we're speaking with."
She began to finger the pack of cigarettes, but shoved them away from herself suddenly. "I just quit. If I ever see him again, I'm going to kill him, and I can't stop to cough up a lung while I chase the bastard."
"If he gets in touch with you, and you don't manage to kill him, will you get in touch with us?" Sirius asked.
She nodded. "I'll call Charlotte. She has a telephone since so many of us are Muggles."
"I have a telephone. Would you be willing to call me?" James asked. Lydia nodded, and he wrote his name and the number down on a paper napkin. "No one's ever called me before. My wife gets calls sometimes."
"Your first phone call, and it's from a mysterious woman, what will Lily think?" Sirius teased.
"She'll realize that I actually learned something in Muggle Studies, that I didn't take it just so I could ask her to tutor me."
"But that was why you took it."
"I know."
* * * * *
After another ride on the Shadow—James was certain they were going to go deaf—and lunch at a pub in a town near Marcus Redstone's home, they were ready for their second appointment of the day. Like many wizards, Redstone lived in a remote area. Unlike Muggles, wizards didn't need access to roads or public transportation, and distance from Muggle neighbors provided privacy. Much of the way from the nearest village to Redstone's, the Shadow followed a grassy path that may never have known wheels before. The whitewashed house had a thatched roof and window baskets full of holiday greenery. A grey tabby sat on the stone gatepost and watched the two young men carefully as they got off the strange machine.
While Sirius secured his motorcycle with several protective spells, James looked at the thatched roof, "Very traditional." "Well, Padfoot, we may have been appropriately dressed to meet Lydia, but I have a feeling we're going to look out of place here."
"We aren't here for him to like us."
"You promised you'd behave."
"I will if he does."
"Even if he doesn't."
Sirius did not answer as he opened the gate. James hoped that in this case, silence was agreement.
Sirius was about to use the brass doorknocker a second time when a tall wizard with salt and pepper hair opened the red door. They were right on time for their meeting, but two young men in Muggle clothing were apparently not what he was expecting.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm James Potter, and this is Sirius Black. Charlotte Stirling arranged for us to meet with Mr. Marcus Redstone."
"You're the ones looking into my son's death for Dumbledore?" He stepped back and gestured toward the front parlor. "Go on in and have a seat near the fire. You're probably pretty cold after coming here on that noisy thing. Why didn't you just apparate or floo, anyway?"
James laughed. "That's what I've been saying all day. We had to meet with a Muggle earlier, and Sirius jumps at any excuse to ride it." James sat in one of the two wing chairs near the fire; Sirius stood leaning back against the mantle to the side of the fire. He didn't seem to want to relax too much in "enemy territory."
"Met with a Muggle; that explains the clothes," Redstone said as he came into the room and went to a small table bearing a decanter and several crystal tumblers.
"Actually, I wear Muggle clothes a lot," Sirius said defiantly.
Redstone shrugged and poured himself a drink. "Dexter wore Muggle clothes pretty often too. I guess it's a generational thing. Do either of you want some Scotch?"
"No thank you," James replied. Sirius remained silent.
Redstone sat in the other wing chair and took a sip of his Scotch before he spoke. "The Aurors have a report on Dexter's death somewhere. Did you read it?"
"We did," James said, "but it only contains what those investigators thought was important. We might find something important that they didn't, so we'd appreciate if you'd just tell us in your words whatever you know."
Redstone stared down into the amber fluid as he spoke. "I got a little visit from a Death Eater one night. He stood right where you are for most the time he was here." He looked up at Sirius and toasted him with the glass. "He said what a shame it was that after all my years of dedicated service to the Ministry, protecting people, that I should be tossed out an my ass just because I got bitten by a werewolf. I just let him talk. He thought he knew how I thought, but he didn't. He thought I'd be angry at the Ministry, thought I'd want revenge.
"Eventually, I told him that I was tired of the sound of his voice and to piss off. I was pouring myself a drink at the time, wand in my pocket, my back to him and everything. I think I was hoping he'd kill me, finish off what that damn wolf started. But he just left with a vague warning about 'giving me a reason to reconsider'."
Redstone finished his drink with a large swallow and put the tumbler on the floor beside the leg of his chair. "About a week later, he was back, but his time he brought a friend." Redstone smirked. "Well, not quite a friend. The new one was definitely the one in charge. The original one, the taller one, he only spoke when spoken too, if you know what I mean. Now, the new one, he had done his homework. His sales pitch was different. He knew I harbored no ill will toward the Ministry; they retired me with a generous pension since I was injured in the line of duty. He knew that I put the blame squarely where it belonged, on the damn wolf that bit me."
Sirius shifted slightly but stayed silent.
"What did he say?" James prompted.
"He said that bleeding hearts in the Ministry had hampered those of us who were trying to keep people safe from werewolves. He pointed out the unfairness of rules that protected werewolves' privacy at the expense of their neighbors' safety. He told me that there actually was a werewolf at Hogwarts at the same time as my son, and no one knew it. I wasn't sure if I believed that one. How could a werewolf pass as normal enough to attend Hogwarts?"
James couldn't resist glancing nervously at Sirius. Sirius was scowling and looking back at him.
"He knew that through my former coworkers, I could probably get access to the records in the Werewolf Registry. That's what he wanted. I confess; I probably would have been tempted if the other one hadn't already come to me with a completely different story. He was telling the truth when he said he wanted the records; he was lying about why he wanted them.
"So, I refused. This time vague threats were not enough. Ever experience the Cruciatus Curse, gentlemen? I don't recommend it. Dexter was killed three days later. Are you sure you don't want a drink?" Redstone grabbed his glass and went to refill it.
"No thank you," Sirius said.
"Can you describe them?" James asked.
Redstone returned with his glass and stayed standing in front of the fire. "They both wore black masks and had the hoods of their cloaks up, so I never saw faces or hair color. The taller one was about my height, six two, the other about four inches shorter. They were both average in build, as best I could tell with the cloaks. The taller one had a slight Glaswegian accent. The shorter one was English and wealthy."
"How could you tell?" Sirius asked.
"First of all, his accent. His voice dripped money, like yours," he nodded at James. "If he were a Muggle I'd swear he was the Queen's cousin. Second of all, his cloak brushed against my hand, and it was the softest thing I've ever felt. Do you have any idea how much gold a cashmere cloak costs? I bought a cashmere sweater for my wife once, and I almost had to close my eyes to hand the money over. And I think he was a Slytherin."
Even Sirius had to chuckle at that. "I won't argue with you, but do you have a reason?"
"He was wearing a silver signet ring. When I was at Hogwarts, there was a bit of a fad to wear signet rings. The students from old money had them made with their family crests, so everyone would know they were from old money. Then some of those who weren't from old money got them so people would think they were from old money. I admit; I succumbed." He held up his right hand to show a gold signet ring. "House loyalties were seen in the metal of choice, house colors. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs preferred yellow gold, Ravenclaws preferred rose gold or bronze, and Slytherins preferred white gold or silver. I tried to see the crest, but when he noticed that I was looking, he took off the ring."
James couldn't resist asking. "What house were you in?"
"Gryffindor, of course. Who else would have the guts to deal with werewolves for a living?" He looked intently at Sirius. "You're Aeneas Black's son, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Redstone nodded. "I knew him; his death was a real loss. If you turn out to be half the man he was, you'll do him proud."
"Thank you," Sirius said. He looked a bit unsure what to say next. This visit had only partially gone as he expected.
"We were at Hogwarts with Dexter," James said, "but we were five years behind him. As soon as we heard his name, we both remembered seeing him play Quidditch."
Redstone smiled. "He loved that stupid game. He worked for the Tutshill Tornados, you know. Back office, not on the pitch, but he was around the game he loved. I'll miss that boy until the day I die."
Both young men were unusually subdued as they walked back to the Shadow.
"Two werewolves each visited by a five foot ten wizard wearing a silver ring who wanted something from them. Both said 'no' and soon after a loved one was murdered," Sirius began. "Sounds like more than mere coincidence, even if those murders weren't connected to what happened to Remus's mum."
"Why don't you think they're connected?" James asked as he paused to pet the tabby rubbing his ankles.
"Because Remus wasn't visited by the guy with the silver ring." Sirius answered with conviction. He released each of the spells protecting his bike in rapid succession. James wondered if Sirius was as certain as he sounded.
"He may have been. Maybe he just didn't tell us."
"No, he would have told us."
"A couple of days ago, I would have agreed with you," James said, "but you heard what he said yesterday as well as I did. 'I want to deal with my own problems.' That came from somewhere." Sirius busied himself with putting on his helmet and wiping mud off the Shadow; he did not look at James. "Maybe he did get a visit, told the guy to piss off, and –"
"We have to talk to Remus," Sirius concluded. He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket enough to see his watch. "He'll be at work already, and he won't be back until late tonight."
"I'll come over tomorrow morning, about eight. We'll talk to him then."
Author's Note: I must confess that Chapter Eight will NOT include Christmas Eve, sorry. Instead, may I recommend the stories "The Weakest Link" and "O Come All Ye Faithful" by Hyphen. (They read as two chapters of the same story.) "O Come All Ye Faithful" DOES include the Potters telling their friends about her pregnancy, Peter teetering on the edge of betrayal, and some really funny Christmas presents. (I couldn't top it, so I won't even try.) Look for the link on my "Favorite Stories" list.
--Posted February 2003