Perhaps a week too late, but here's the newest, Christmas-themed chapter! for all you Americans: a jumper is of course a sweater.
And the quote's from A Muppet Christmas Carol, my favourite version of the old story by Charles Dickens (or Dahl's Chickens, as the BFG likes to call him).
Anyway, enjoy, and a (belated) merry Christmas and a happy 2004! I certainly felt Christmas-y when I wrote this!

Christmas 1994.

"A cup of kindness that we share with another
A sweet reunion with a friend or a brother
In all the places you find love
It feels like Christmas…"

* * * * *

Dear Father Christmas,

I know I haven't been that particularly good the past few years, but I thought I´d send you a wish-list nonetheless. This year, I´d like to get the following:

1) Peter Pettigrew´s head on a stake

2) Snape´s head on a stake

3) Voldemort´s head on a stake

4) Food

5) A wand

6) A proper place to stay

7) Something to keep me warm

8) Matches

9) A long warm bath

10) A relatively normal life so I can spend more time with Harry and you

I realise some items might be a bit hard to get. To help you on your Quest, I've enclosed a cheque for two hundred Galleons. And don't you dare start whining about it – I don't need the money, and you're probably spending most of it on me anyway. And while you're at it, buy some Christmas presents for yourself as well.

See you soon,

Sirius.

* * * * *

Remus stared incredulously at the numbers on the cheque in front of him. A curled two, two round zero's, and after that, in brackets, the entire sum in letters: two hundred Galleons. He was holding the ticket to a small fortune. Well, in his eyes at least. Sirius seemed to have gone mad after all…

He was so happy with the gift he did a sort of dance of happiness. Monster carefully scooted away from Remus, minding the feet that were about to step on him.

"See this, Monster?" Remus asked excitedly. He held the cheque before the animal's eyes. "You know what this means? This means a new cloak, and a proper Christmas meal, and loads of new books!" He continued his dance, but suddenly stopped, literally mid-leap-of-joy. His stomach sunk through the soles of his feet right into the cellar when he realised something.

He wasn't allowed to get so much money.

The financial situation of a werewolf is a rather complicated one. Dolores Umbridge – according to rumours on her way to becoming Senior Under-secretary to the Minister himself – had tightened the net a little more. She had seen the demonstration at the ministry a few months ago as a personal offence – which it more or less had been. Seeking revenge, she had (cleverly, Remus had to admit that) decided that the best way to hit somebody was through their pocket. Remus and his fellow werewolves received a monthly one hundred Galleons from the Lycantrope Support, a fund that had been erected a few years ago, when more and more werewolves had started to lose their jobs. Now Umbridge had decided that werewolves were only allowed to receive those hundred Galleons, and an additional sum with a maximum of another one hundred Galleons.

Which meant that Remus was now holding twice as much as he was allowed to get.

He growled at the cheque, as if the poor thing could help it. It was not fair, really. There was Sirius, with more money than he could spent, who couldn't go out and buy things, and here was Remus, free as a bird, and he didn't have a Knut.

He sunk down on a chair. His head fell down on the table with a thud. It hurt.

I hate my life, he thought miserably. He somehow had to get rid of one hundred Galleons without spending them. Wasn't it even possible to get a Christmas gift without any trouble in this world?! Apparently not.

He raised his head slightly when a new thought occurred to him. He could… he could…

Yes, finish that thought, a voice in his head said irritably. He could of course pay one hundred Galleons to his Gringotts account and change the rest for Muggle money, claiming it was money he had been saving. He read the cheque through again. It was from an anonymous giver, it said (you can't walk into Gringotts, cashing a cheque from Sirius Black, you simply can't), and once the money had been changed into Pounds it had virtually disappeared. It didn't exist anymore. It was in fact a loophole that Lova had pointed out to him; she had two bankaccounts herself, a Gringotts account and one at a Muggle bank.

Determinedly, he got to his feet and put on his old wintercloak. Time to do some shopping. 

~*~

"Yes, how can I help you?" The goblin looked down from his high stool at Remus. 

"I would like to cash this cheque please." Remus gave the cheque to the goblin, who took a few moments to study it. Remus waited nervously, afraid that his little plan wasn't going to work out after all. After a few nervous moments, the goblin asked: "do you have the key to your vault?"

"Yes, right here," Remus replied, showing him the key. The goblin nodded and beckoned another goblin, who took Remus to the carts taking them to the vaults.

They went to Sirius' vault first, number 711. The goblin opened the vault and took out two hundred gold coins. Just before the door closed again, Remus caught sight of a glimmering mount of coins, not only gold but also silver and some copper. There was a fortune in there.

"What would you like to do with it, sir?" the goblin asked.

Remus thought about this for a moment, then said: "I´d like to put fifty Galleons in my own vault, and take the rest with me, please."

"Very well."

In the cart they went, and two speedy rollercoaster rides later Remus was back in the hall of Gringotts. There was a queue in front of the Change Office, so he got in line and waited.

His leather bag with coins was curiously heavy, and he couldn't resist the temptation for long. He opened the bag and looked in wonder at the one hundred and fifty gold coins glimmering inside. He didn't hear much of the conversations around him ("Yes, the Yule ball. I've spend all afternoon looking for nice dress robes, they're impossible to find") and only looked up when he had reached the counter.

"I´d like to change a hundred Galleons for pounds, please," he said to the goblin behind the counter. The goblin nodded and beckoned for Remus to give the Galleons. Remus unceremoniously turned his bag upside down and counted out fifty Galleons, shoving them back in his bag. The goblin took the rest, counted it quickly and scraped it into something that looked like a trashcan. The can was, through a pipe, connected with the main vault of Gringotts, where the money was stored for later use. Then the goblin opened a drawer, licked a long finger and counted out 500 Pounds.

"Here you go, sir," the goblin said. Remus took the banknotes (so odd, paper money) and put them hastily in his pocket, making way for the next person in the queue.

He was standing there, with a leather bag that was still heavier than he was used to, and a roll of banknotes in his pocket, and suddenly the Christmas spirit hit him. He realised he was grinning stupidly at the thought of a rich Christmas dinner and lots of presents – albeit self-bought. But he didn't care. He couldn't care less that he looked weird, that people were looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, and, had Umbridge herself showed up to ask him where he'd got all that money, he would've laughed her in the face. Nothing was going to ruin his mood now.

He walked out of Gringotts into Diagon Alley, and straight to Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. He had been saving money for a new wintercloak, and had calculated that he would be able to buy one next winter, and a good thing too, because he'd been wearing this one for nearly eleven years. Thanks to Sirius, he didn't have to wait and he could afford a really good cloak.

It was rather busy inside the shop, more busy than usual. It was especially crowded in the corner where the dress robes were hanging, and there nearly broke out a fight over the last red ones. Only the intervention from Madam Malkin herself, and her suggestion that she could magically dye some robes red, prevented a fight between mothers who all wanted their child to be the prettiest.

Somebody tapped on Remus' shoulder, and he turned around. A tired-looking witch was looking at him, a tape measure around her neck. "May I help you?" she asked, half-sighing.

Remus was tempted to say he was looking for dress robes, but the witch looked so tortured he didn't have the heart to do it. He wasn't that mean. Instead, he told her he was looking for a new wintercloak.

Her face lit up, and she started firing questions at him about the size, the length, the colour, the material…She took him to a corner to take his measurements, which she wrote down on a bit of parchment. She then went to the back of the store and came back with what seemed a mass of black wool, but it turned out to be a very rough version of a cloak.

"You wanted more a coat than a cape, right?" she asked, holding the cloak up for him.

"Yes, with sleeves, please," he replied, as he put the cloak on. She pinned the sleeves to the right length, sewed them, and added pockets and adjusted the length according to Remus' wishes. Fifteen minutes later, the cloak was finished, and it fitted perfectly. As Remus followed the witch to the counter to pay, he lovingly stroked the wool of the cloak.

"Would you like to keep it on, sir?" she asked when they'd reached the counter.

"Yes, please," he said, and pulled out his bag with coins. He counted out forty Galleons. Cloaks were expensive, especially the thicker, warmer winter ones, and especially when they were made according to your wishes, like this one. His old cloak went in a paper bag, he received a receipt, and he was ready to go.

Remus stopped by the Magical Menagerie to buy some treats for Buckbeak, then he walked through the Leaky Cauldron into the Muggle world.

~*~

His shopping there went less well. He was used to the crowded but cosy Diagon Alley. This part of London was crowded as well, but not exactly cosy. Remus was nearly run over by a red double-decker bus when he forgot to check the traffic light while crossing a street. And then it started to rain too.

He decided that the best places to start were the bigger warehouses, so he followed the stream of people, ended up in Harrods, and got so scared by the prices that he immediately walked out (it took him five minutes because it was so busy).

By now, the rain had subsided into a cold drizzle, and it had started to get dark as well. Remus' day had started so well, but he'd spend three hours buying nothing more than a cloak and some Hippogriff-treats, things were starting to get a bit depressing.

He took out Sirius' wish-list. The least he could do was buy food and 'something to keep me warm'. And maybe matches too, although Remus had no idea where he could find those.

He aimlessly started walking down a street, until he found a warehouse called Marks & Spencer's (he first thought it was a supermarket, though). It was about as crowded as Harrods or Madam Malkin's, but he managed to find what he was looking for. He even bought two boxes of matches.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas was playing on the radio when he paid for his presents, carefully checking each note to see what number was on it. The song was infectious, and he was humming it all the way home. 

~*~

Christmas certainly was white in Hogsmeade. Remus Apparated to the Apparation Office, a place especially for Apparation and Portkeys, so that there wouldn't be wizards Apparating all over Hogsmeade. When he walked out, thick snowflakes were falling out of a dark grey sky. The sun was already setting even though it was still early in the afternoon.

Sirius and he hadn't agreed on a place to meet, except Hogsmeade – and the wizard village was fairly large. Remus sighed and started walking down Main Street. Sirius' Animagus form was a big black dog, it would be hard to miss him.

He found his friend sitting, typically enough, under a notice board with a battered "Have you seen this wizard?"-poster. Remus shook his head but had to laugh at the same time.

Padfoot noticed him, got to his feet and barked loudly, wagging his tail. Remus dramatically dropped his bags and spread his arms, as if he was welcoming Padfoot to jump into them.

"Padfoot!" he exclaimed.

He should've realised Sirius always accepted a dare. The big black dog ran towards him, got on his hind-legs, supporting himself with his front paws on Remus' shoulder, and before Remus knew what was going on, Padfoot had licked his face with a huge, long, wet tongue. He shuddered.

"God, Padfoot, that's disgusting!" he said, pushing the dog away. Padfoot sat down, and it turned out dogs could grin, because that's what he was doing at that moment. 

"Okay, you win," Remus growled, cleaning his face with a handkerchief. "Stupid dog."

Padfoot barked.

"Now, show me that cave of yours." Padfoot obediently got to his feet and Remus followed him, out of Hogsmeade into the hills. It was a fairly long climb, and he was breathing heavily when he reached Sirius' cave. Padfoot had four paws to use and he wasn't out of breath at all. He changed back into Sirius while Remus was trying to catch his breath.

"Bad condition?" he asked lightly.

"Oh sod off you," Remus said. "Here, take this." And he shoved one of the bags in Sirius' arms.

"Oh, presents!" his friend said, peering inside. "Oh, you got them all wrapped."

"Of course. Unwrapping presents is half the fun." Remus straightened his back. "Phooey. Well, I'm here."

"Yeah, I see. Hello," Sirius said, suddenly shy. A rather awkward silence followed. In his mind, Remus had lived this moment time and time again, but now it was actually happening, he couldn't find words to say.

"You look… good," he tried. Sirius sarcastically raised an eyebrow.

"Do I?"

"Well, no," Remus said. "But I figured 'you look terrible' wasn't a very social thing to say…"

Sirius grinned. Remus was right though, his friend had looked better. Although he had gained weight since he'd escaped from Azkaban, nearly eighteen months ago, he was still underfed. His long black hair was a tangled mass, a ratty beard covered his hollow cheeks, and his clothes were in a state Remus didn't even want to think about. But Sirius' eyes shone with pure joy, and that was where Remus saw the old, cheerful, handsome Sirius.

He didn't know that Sirius was also trying to find his old schoolfriend in the man standing before him. He was used to Remus looking pale and sickly, but he hadn't realised Remus' hair had got so grey, or that the lines in his face were so prominent. But then Sirius noticed that the crowsfeet near Remus' eyes were wrinkles of laughter rather than sorrow. Life had hit hard, but not hard enough to break Remus.

Sirius laughed and hit his friend on the shoulder. "You look better than I do!"

"Well, that's a first," Remus smiled.

"Yeah, it's rather worrying me, actually," replied Sirius lightly. "Now, come in, I´ll introduce you to Buckbeak."

They got inside the cave. It was barely warmer than outside, and Remus could see frost on the ceiling. Buckbeak was crouched in a corner but he got to his feet when he saw Sirius enter with a stranger.

"This is Buckbeak," Sirius said. "Buckbeak, this is Remus."

Remus bowed nervously. He didn't feel comfortable so close near such a sharp beak and talons. Buckbeak bowed too, albeit a bit reluctantly. He seemed to do it more because Sirius wanted it than because he wanted to. Werewolves and Hippogriffs don't mix well.

Now that was done, Remus put down his bags. "It's freezing in here," he said, stating the obvious.

"I know," Sirius said. "But I can't make a fire." He pointed to the cold fireplace.

"Oh c´mon, fires are for Muggles," Remus answered. He took out his wand. "Watch." He waved his wand, and a gold-coloured sort of wall appeared, covering the entrance of the cave. They could still see through it, but the outside world seemed to bathe in a golden light. It suddenly appeared much warmer inside now the cold wind couldn't get in.

"Better?"

"Yes, much better," Sirius said. "See, this is why I need a wand."

Remus conjured up a small fire, floating candles for light and Christmas decorations such as baubles and holly. He left out the mistletoe; Sirius scowled at the mere suggestion, saying that he didn't accidentally want to end up under it with Remus or, God forbid, Buckbeak.

"Okay, done," Remus said finally. "Now what? Dinner or presents?"

"Presents!" Sirius said, and immediately made for Remus' bags.

"God, you're so immature, Padfoot," Remus said, and he grinned.

"I know. It's one of my better qualities." He picked up a bag. "Is there breakable stuff in it? Can I turn it upside down?"

Remus nodded, and Sirius immediately turned the bag upside down. Presents rolled over the floor.

"There're presents for you and one for Buckbeak," Remus told Sirius, helping his friend to gather the presents together.

"Ah, good."

The second bag got the same treatment. When the presents were sorted, they sat down on Sirius' make-shift bed.

"There are no presents for you," Sirius noticed.

"No, all the presents would be a bit too much to take with me. Besides, I'm wearing a present now." And Remus pointed proudly to his cloak.

"Nice," Sirius nodded. Then he turned his attention towards the presents. "Okay. Do we sing first?"

"I´d rather not."

"I do." Sirius scraped his throat and quickly rattled through 'Silent night'. Half the lyrics were made-up because he couldn't remember them. When he was done, Remus said: "now I know what to get you next Christmas. A book with the lyrics to all the Christmas carols."

"Okay. Now, first present. Let's do Buckbeak´s first, shall we?" Sirius unwrapped the present labelled 'Buckbeak'. "Nice. What it is?"

"Hippogriff treats. I honestly didn't know what else to give him."

"Ah, good. Hey, look." Sirius took out one of the dog-biscuit-like treats and threw it towards Buckbeak. The Hippogriff got to his feet in a flash and snatched the treat out of the air. But all Remus could see, staring wide-eyed, was the sharp beak breaking the treat in half.

"Cool, huh?" Sirius said, excitedly. Remus couldn't really agree with him.

"Okay, now your presents," he said. Sirius' attention immediately shifted back.

In the next half hour, he unwrapped the clothes, the matches and the pens and writing paper Remus had bought him.

"Lots of practical gifts," he noted.

"Yeah, they were out of heads on stakes, and I didn't like the normal lives they had," Remus joked. "And the baths were rather expensive."

"Well, that's a pity." Sirius pulled a jumper – black, of course – over his head, despite it already being warm inside the cave. The frost on the ceiling had melted and water was dripping on the floor.

After the presents came the Christmas dinner. Remus had already prepared it and charmed the packets of food to stay cold. He defrosted and unwrapped them. Sirius unpacked the plates and cutlery. When everything was ready, he asked: "can I sing again?"

"No," Remus said sternly. "I´d like to keep my appetite."

Sirius pretended to scowl but laughed nonetheless.

There was no particular order in which they ate the different courses, they just tucked in. There was a short fight over the last bit of Christmas pudding, which Sirius won because Remus wasn't able to resist the puppy dog eyes.

They didn't talk much, but it turned out they didn't need long reminiscing conversations to get together again. It was enough just to sit opposite each other, and noticing familiar things both had forgotten; Sirius' habit of mashed potatoes with a spoon, or Remus' meticulous way of cutting his meat.

When they were done eating, Remus packed everything away again, while Sirius sat back.

"I'm completely stuffed," he announced. "If I eat a bit more I´ll explode. Or get sick."

"Then it's good we've eaten everything," Remus said. He sat back as well. "But I'm stuffed as well."

"Hmm." After a few moments silence, Sirius said: "I wonder what's Harry's doing right now."

"Celebrating Christmas, probably," Remus muttered. He was feeling sleepy.

"There's a Yule ball this year, because of the Triwizard and all, so he's probably dancing." 

Remus raised his head, suddenly awake again. "Can Harry dance?"

"I don't know. I haven't been there to teach him, so probably not." Sirius winked. "But I bet he dances better than he did when he was one."

Both burst out laughing at the memory of little Harry shaking his diaper-covered hips on the tunes of his parent's records.

"Well, maybe he invents a new way of dancing," Remus grinned, causing Sirius to burst out laughing again.

"As long as Dumbledore doesn't dance that way," he said when he had caught his breath again. The mental image made Remus laugh so hard his jaws hurt.

"Don't do that to me!" he said finally.

"As long as it's not Snape," Sirius shrugged, grinning.

"That's quite impossible to imagine, Snape dancing like a toddler." They both laughed nonetheless.

"It's quite a disgusting image, actually," Sirius said finally.

"You started it," Remus pointed out.

"Yeah, but imagine Snape shaking his – ew." Sirius shuddered.

"Don't think about that!" Remus got on his knees and took Sirius' head between his hands. "I must exorcise you! Think about Harry dancing! Think about that time we walked in on James and Harry dancing!"

This worked. Sirius laughed, but there was a sad edge to it. "Remember how embarrassed he was?" he said.

"And how he tried to be cool about it?"

"Claiming it was completely normal to dance like your one-year old son."

"As if you never did it."

"I only made sand-pies with Harry, I never danced."

"And that is different how?" Remus gently poked Sirius' shoulder.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one completely ecstatic because Harry managed to say 'Moony' before he said 'Padfoot'."

"That's because Moony is way easier to say."

"Doesn't change the fact that you couldn't shut up about it."

"Hm, well, okay, maybe I was a little too enthusiastic about it…"

"Ahem. Understatement of the century."

"You want the last bit of wine?" Remus changed the subject.

"For sure." Sirius held up his glass and Remus poured the last drops of wine in it.

"What time is it anyway?" Sirius asked when he'd drained his glass.

Remus checked his watch. "Half past eleven."

"Merlin's beard, that late already?" Sirius sighed. "You're going soon, right?"

"Can't help it, sorry."

"Nah, it's okay." Sirius scrambled on his knees and started gathering his presents together. Remus started packing his things too, and before long he was ready to go. Sirius walked him to the gold-coloured wall covering the entrance of the cave.

"It'll probably be faded by tomorrow," Remus said, sticking his hand through the wall. It was way colder outside than inside the cave.

"Pity," Sirius said. He had stuck his hands in his pockets and was looking around the cave. "I like it much better this way."

"I can imagine." Remus tied his scarf around his neck and buttoned his cloak up. He really didn't want to go outside into the cold, but he had to.

"You will write me, right?" Sirius asked suddenly, urgently.

"Of course! Why else do you think I gave you that writing paper and those pens?" Remus took Sirius by the shoulders, hesitated a moment, then pulled his friend closer in a warm hug. Sirius hugged back, and muttered into Remus' cloak: "I miss you already."

"Well, that's silly," Remus said, trying to keep the atmosphere light. "I haven't even left yet."

Sirius pushed himself out of Remus' arms. "Yes, but you can miss something while it's still there."

"I know." Remus suddenly felt sad. He didn't want to leave either. But he braced himself and stepped out of the cave. It was still snowing, and snowflakes covered his shoulders and almost immediately melted. Sirius stayed inside and he suddenly seemed gold-coloured.

Remus waved one final time, and Sirius waved back. Then Remus Apparated, disappearing with a popping sound.

Sirius stayed on the place where he was standing for several minutes, looking how the place where Remus had been standing was being filled with snow. Then he turned around and made for his bed.

* * * * *

Dear Sirius,

Yes, I have to agree, you haven't been very good, but you have done some redeeming things, so I've given you presents anyway. I hope you like them.

Now, this is the first time you don't have to use the back of this letter to reply. Make good use of your new writing paper!

Father Christmas (Moony for friends).