Chapter Thirty Two: Christmas Tree Conversations

Remus watched with a sad smile as Sirius tried to engage Harry at the tree lot. He had tried to warn his friend that the teen might not be interested in getting into the Christmas spirit, but Sirius refused to give up. He was determined that their first Christmas as a family would be special.

The werewolf helped himself to a cup of hot cocoa as he chuckled and shook his head at his friend's antics. He knew why it meant so much to Sirius, who had not had a happy family Christmas until he was almost Harry's age and living with the Potters. But that was the same reason that Remus felt they should try to keep things low key. He remembered the moody dark teen who had swung from ecstatic about the holidays to pensive and angry. He also remembered the letters he had gotten from James during those early holiday breaks. Letters where they had worried about their friend as he struggled through the holidays, often turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms when memories of his own family's dysfunctional traditions threatened to overwhelm him.

A woman in her mid fifties came over to the table and was helping herself to some coco when she noticed Remus watching Harry and Sirius. She smiled sympathetically, "Teenagers" she said with a shake of her head. "I remember when my boys were that age, it took everything in me not to strangle them when they grunted like that."

Remus smiled and nodded at the muggle "Glad to know we aren't the only ones." He said with a laugh.

She turned to stand next to him, and waved to a young man holding a little girl who looked to be about three. "And now I'm here with my grandchildren!" She exclaimed "Seems like those grunting days were only yesterday." She took a long sip of her coco, "So did you and your partner adopt or…"

Remus blushed, trying to ignore the rising annoyance at the woman's assumption. "No, well yes we adopted Harry, but we're not…" He sighed, wishing there was a way to respond without getting so flustered, which seemed to only confirm the woman's suspicions. "Sirius and I are just friends," he clarified. "Harry is our best friend's son, his parents passed away." He left it at that, feeling like he had already told the woman more than she had a right to know.

To her credit, the muggle woman blushed at her mistake. "I'm sorry dear, I shouldn't have assumed. I just, well I adopted all four of my boys, and I know how challenging it can be, especially this time of year."

Remus softened a bit, and smiled at the woman as he watched Sirius navigate how to purchase his selected tree from the muggle teen working the cash register. "It's okay," He said distractedly. "I worry that maybe we're making too big a fuss about the holidays," He admitted. "Sirius wants it to be special, since it's our first one with the three of us… but I worry it will be too hard on Harry." He wasn't sure why he confided in the women, but he figured it was safe enough to do with a random muggle he would likely never see again.

She nodded "You'll learn dear, that the special things are often the hardest. But I've found that there isn't much that's 'too hard' for these kids. Just listen to Harry and let him take the lead."

Remus smiled and thanked her, before going to help Sirius oversee the young man strapping their chosen tree to the car.

"That one looks great!" He said cheerily as he came up. Harry shrugged and said nothing. Sirius smiled broadly as he examined their pick "It's the nicest one on the lot!" He exclaimed. "I saw you getting some coco over there Moony, what do you think pup? It's about time for an afternoon snack, want to grab some biscuits and coco before we head home?"

Harry quickly transitioned from sullen to panicked. "Erm, I don't know," He said hesitantly. He glanced over at the table laden with holiday treats "I'm not really hungry, maybe I could just have some coco?"

Sirius looked like he was about to agree when Remus cut him off. "Harry, you know that isn't how this works." He said calmly. "It's fine if you don't want to have your snack here, but you can't bargain with us about what you eat."

The teen's face turned cloudy, "Fine then" He practically spat "I don't want a bloody snack anyway and I'm not eating any damn biscuits!"

Remus sighed, wishing they could have avoided a confrontation in such a public space. The muggle teen had finished strapping their tree to the car and was staring at Harry awkwardly. And Remus could sense other families skirting around them and mumbling. "Harry, please watch your language." He asked, trying his best to keep his tone even.

"What are you going to do about it?" Harry challenged back anger and panic battling across his face.

Sirius stepped in now, apparently finally seeing what Remus had tried to warn him of. "Alright that's enough pup" He said firmly "Let's all just calm down and head home."

Harry looked mutinous for a moment, and Remus had a horrifying thought that he might run from them, but instead he climbed into the back of the car and slammed the door. Remus glanced at his friend, feeling worn out and acutely aware that they were about to add another traumatized teen to their odd little group.

The car ride home was tense and silent. Harry was out of the car and slamming the door before it had even come to a full stop. Sirius breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his godson head straight for the front door instead of up the street. "Was I ever this difficult?" He asked with a half laugh, trying and failing to lighten the mood. "God bless the Potters if I was."

Remus sighed and shook his head, turning the key to shut off the engine of the old muggle car. "You were worse," He finally admitted "But I'm not sure how much the Potters really tried to parent you, I think it was different… They didn't know how much you were struggling."

Sirius nodded and slowly started to climb out of the car, doing a careful scan of the street before magically untying the Christmas tree and levitating it towards the door. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have suggested the biscuits." He admitted as they walked towards the old home. "I just want… I want to show him the kind of Christmas the Potters always had. Big, and loud, and full of love. I hate that he didn't grow up with that."

Remus nodded and opened the door for his friend, checking that Harry wasn't within ear shot before continuing. "I know Sirius, and I get it. But I think you're looking back on those first christmases with the Potters with rose colored glasses. They were pretty hard on you too." He held up his hand to stop his friend from interrupting as they guided the tree into the parlor. "I'm not saying they aren't great memories, because I'm sure they are." He paused, remembering the words of the muggle he had been speaking with. "But things can be good and hard."

Sirius smiled sadly as he charmed the tree to stand up and rotate slowly in the center of the room. He glanced around, trying to decide where it would look best. "I guess you're right Moony." He said as he started clearing a corner towards the back of the room, a small voice inside him pointed out that he had been careful to choose a spot where his own parents had never had their christmas tree. "And maybe I've been pushing everyone so hard because I'm nervous to be celebrating here… I've had a lot of christmases since I left this home as a kid… and eventually it did get easier to celebrate with the Potters. I don't mind living here most of the time, not with you and Harry here with me. This house is so different than it was when I was a kid. But the holiday, I guess it just reminds me that it's not all that different after all."

Remus patted his friends back, then helped him to move the tree into the newly cleared area. "It is different though Padfoot, because now it's filled with us."

They gave Harry another 15 minutes to cool down before Sirius went looking for him, as it was time for his snack. Remus had offered to go with him, but Sirius shooed him away to do some last minute shopping. They wanted to get some muggle decorations, as they knew they were what Harry was familiar with, and now they needed some presents for Draco.

Harry was sitting curled up on his bed, looking out the magical window, which showed a beautiful forest scene with both magical and non-magical creatures running through it. It reminded him of a book he had read in primary school called "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe" The animals in the magical kingdom had been ruled by an evil witch who made it always winter, and never christmas. When the heroes of the book arrived her spells became undone, and the four children had had Christmas with a bunch of talking woodland creatures.

Harry remembered reading the story, and relating to the kingdom of Narnia. All he needed was a hero to come undo the spell and bring back the magic. Oh how little he had known then!

He had expected them to come find him eventually, as he was acutely aware that they were inching closer and closer to the prescribed time for his afternoon snack. Damn them and their bloody snacks, he thought to himself as he curled his arms tighter around his knees, wishing he could be smaller, that he could fold himself over until he took up no space at all. How many times did I watch Dudley get to eat an afternoon snack. He'd come in running from school, eager to see what Aunt Petunia had prepared. Harry also remembered that his rotund cousin had usually complained that he had not been given enough.

Harry had learned early on not to even bother looking to see what the snack was. It just made it harder to go hungry, and was usually asking for his cousin to accuse him of stealing, which never ended well.

When Sirius finally knocked, pausing long enough to be respectful, but not actually waiting for Harry to respond, Harry had wandered too far down memory lane. He pinched his eyes shut for a moment, and when that only made the memories worse, opened them wide and dug his nails into the flesh on his forearms.

"Hey Pup," Sirius said quietly.

Harry chanced a glance at his godfather and saw that the man had brought a shake with him. So much for biscuits and hot coco, he thought grimly.

The tall, lean man walked across the room slowly, grabbing the small hard chair from Harry's desk and dragging it closer to the bed before sitting down. Once he had, he set the shake on the floor beside him and ran a hand through his long curly black hair.

Harry had always wondered why Sirius didn't bother trying to cut it, or tame his hair at least. He didn't even tie it back the way that Severus did. Instead it hung limp, or wild depending on the day, looking just as unkempt as when he was on the run. Maybe after years of rotting in Azkaban he just got used to it. Harry's eyes wandered down his godfather's frame, realizing that in many ways the man still looked the same as he had when Harry had first met him. His clothes were often grungy, far too big for his slight frame. They looked mismatched and wild, like he had robbed a second hand shop or a costume store. He was most often barefoot when they were at home, even though the wooden floors of his familial home seemed to be charmed to be colder than the stone floors at Hogwarts. And his skin never changed from the sickly pale shade of a man who hadn't seen the sun in twelve years. Why does he still live like he's a prisoner?

Harry let his eyes wander to his own frame, taking in the fading, thin purple scars on his arms, the thicker, angry thick ones from his suicide attempt. Taking in his own pale skin and his flesh, which looked pudgy to him, but he was somehow also aware made him look unhealthy and malnourished. Maybe… maybe he still feels like one inside… maybe he's just trying to match. He thought carefully, knowing that that level of self reflection could send him tipping into a dark place he would rather not go.

Sirius was still sitting there, watching him. He sat back with his hands leisurely folded at his chest, not looking rushed or bothered by the silent moody teen who had screamed at him only an hour ago.

Eventually, if only to break the silence and his own dangerous train of thought, Harry spoke. "I'm sorry" He admitted quietly, keeping his forehead on his folded arms, staring into his lap instead of looking at one of the only people in the world who seemed to care enough to listen, and wait. He felt the tears building up in his throat, and begged them not to spill over. But as seemed to happen more and more often, he couldn't stop them. "I'm sorry I yelled, I know you were just trying to be nice." He managed to say, keeping his tone as even as possible despite the tears spilling down his face.

Sirius nodded, and offered a small smile, though Harry couldn't see it as he kept his head down. "It's okay pup, I forgive you. And, I'm sorry too. Christmas is a complicated time, when you don't only have happy memories of it. I think being back here, in this bloody old house, I was just overcompensating… trying to make everything special, and fun, and different from the way it was when I was a kid."

Harry finally looked up, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Sirius gave a half laugh and shook his head at the boy's expression. "You've met the portrait of my mother, so you can only imagine what the real thing was like. I know this house is run down and falling apart now, but when she was alive it was very posh and put together. Like a refined museum of the dark arts." His eyes glossed over a bit as he spoke, "Our holidays were very formal. From my earliest memories I understood that there were certain expectations on us, how my brother and I should behave when company was over. And the consequences of misbehaving, which I seemed rather apt at doing, were unpleasant to say the least."

"It wasn't until I had moved in with your dad's family that I even had the slightest clue what a normal christmas morning could look like. One with laughter and hugs, and fairy cakes for breakfast."

Harry watched as a warm smile crept over his godfather's face. He had seen Sirius happy plenty of times. Mischievous mostly, but also joyful and excited. But the wistful look on his face as he recalled holidays spent with Harry's own family, that expression was new to him. And Harry was surprised to find that it made him a bit sad, sad for the memories that he didn't have, sad that he didn't know what traditions his mother and father had grown up with on their christmas mornings, and sad for the life that would have been, if things had just been different.

"What do you think I would have been like?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his own brain registering the question after it was spoken. It was too late to turn back now though, so Harry repeated it, after seeing his godfather's puzzled face. "What do you think I would have been like if they hadn't died… If I had grown up with them."

So much of who he was, of why he did things the way he did… Right down to the way he fell asleep at night, and the clothes he chose. Everything about Harry was because of his relatives. They made me this way… If I had grown up with my parent's I'd be a completely different person. Then a truly terrifying thought hit him. What if I wouldn't like that person? What if I like the way I am? I might have been a prat, like Malfoy… or spoilt rotten like Dudley. I could have been cruel and a bully, like my dad…

Sirius spoke though, cutting through Harry's mental rambling. "You would have been you Harry. You would have been you, but loved, and confident." His eyes were shining now, and Harry almost believed that the animagus could see the other him, the boy whose parents lived. "You would have been a bit spoiled, and probably more than a bit mischievous. You would have turned your mother's hair grey, and made your father regret everything he ever put his own parents through. But you would still be kind, caring, and loyal. You would have been a great friend, just like your mum." Then he paused, blinking away tears and looking at the real Harry again. "But it doesn't matter how you would have been different Harry, because yes, growing up with your parents instead of those monsters would have changed you. And there might even be a few ways that you changed that you're thankful for. Perhaps this you is more thoughtful, and compassionate. Perhaps a bit more careful in some ways, and reckless in others. This you is so brave, because of what you've faced. But your relatives didn't make you that way Harry, they don't get the credit. You are that way because it's who you are, all the good things you are, they're yours Harry."

Sirius smiled again as he finished his speech, and wordlessly handed his godson the shake he had brought with him. Harry gave him a short, beseeching look, but he took it, and managed to gulp it down without a protest. Then he curled up into the bed and fell asleep, only half aware of the dog that had curled himself at the foot of the bed.

Dinner was quiet that night. Afterwords they cleaned the kitchen (Which for some reason Remus had decided to do the muggle way, and was pleasantly surprised when Harry stepped in to help). As they cleaned they discussed their plans for the evening. Severus had sent word that he would bring Draco by the next morning, shortly after breakfast. There was much discussion about when they should trim the tree, but eventually Sirius's excitement won out and they agreed that the three of them would do it that evening. It was after all, the day before Christmas eve.

So once the washing up was done they made their way into the parlor and Remus convinced Harry to help him select a Christmas movie from the pile of VHS tapes that Sirius had brought home with the TV last summer. Harry didn't know any of them well, having only heard their names, but he had a fuzzy memory of watching "It's a Wonderful Life" in primary school, so he picked that one.

As the old timey music swelled, Sirius charmed the tree to twinkle with old fashioned candles, and gestured for Harry to start putting ornaments on. Harry couldn't help himself, as much as he was feeling tired and moody, and far too full from dinner, he got caught up in the magic of it. They had an impressive collection of both wizarding and muggle ornaments. Harry happily explained the different muggle ones to Sirius and Remus as best he could, although even he had to admit that muggles were prone to sticking a green and red ribbon on just about everything and considering it a Christmas decoration. After about thirty minutes attempting to explain the mickey mouse figurine with a Santa hat on, he gave up, shaking his head with a laugh and tossed it back in the box.

The magical ornaments were even more fun, small figurines that moved, and little santas who flew in circles around the tree shouting tiny "Ho Ho Ho's". Harry sat and listened, enraptured, as Remus and Sirius told him of wizarding Christmas stories, such as the wizard who charmed his children's socks to dance for them, when he could not afford presents, and the evil witch who followed Santa around and tried to stop him from delivering presents to magical homes.

As the room grew dark, they settled onto the couch, with just the lights from the TV and the tree around them. At some point cookies and coco appeared, but no one said anything about evening snacks or required Harry to eat. It felt so normal. As he curled up in a soft blanket that seemed to have a warming charm on it, his hands cupped around his still mostly full mug of coco, and watched as George Bailey cried "I want to live again" to his guardian angel, Harry felt just a twinge of sadness wash over him. This was such a normal evening, the kind he probably would have had every year with his parents, and by now would have taken for granted, thinking he was 'too old' for silly traditions. But instead it was the first Christmas where he had a family who cared enough to include him, to sit with him and talk about traditions, and tell stories.

Feeling himself getting choked up, as memories of the less than happy Christmases threatened to invade, Harry curled down into the blanket and forced himself to focus on the movie. He felt a few tears fall as the credits rolled, and knew that the picture hadn't caused them, not exactly. As the screen went black he quickly excused himself, claiming that he was tired, and went to hide away in his room.

Sirius watched his godson shuffle out of the room,looking like a convict who had escaped. He fought the urge to go after him, to try and make everything better.

"He's okay Padfoot," Remus said, his own voice sad. "Remember what we said, the special things, the good things, they can be hard and still be special."

Sirius nodded absently as they started to magically tidy the room, banishing the cups to the kitchen and the boxes still half full of ornaments to the attic. "I know, I just wish I could make it all better… that I could take all those bad Christmases away."

Remus paused, his wand half raised to straighten the pillows and blankets, and smiled. "I know, but we can't do that. We're giving him new memories, and hopefully one day these happy ones will outweigh the bad ones.

Sirius nodded, thinking back on his own life. Sure, if you tallied them up, his unhappy Christmases far outweighed the happy ones. It had really just been from his fourth year on, after the Potters took him in, and then once the war was over and he was in Azkaban the happy Christmases had ended as well as most other happy things. But those happy memories meant so much more to him than the unhappy ones. He smiled as he remembered Mrs. Potter baking pies in their sunny little kitchen, shooing the boys away when they tried to sneak in and steal some of the cookies she had baked for the neighbors.

And Mr. Potter, on the last Christmas he had spent with his pseudo family. It had been his and James' final year at Hogwarts, and the war was looming for months. The seventeen year old boys had been frustrated by the lack of action, as seventeen year olds often are. They felt they were adults, and in the wizarding world they were both of age, but still so young. That Christmas night James Potter Sr had brought them both into his study and poured them each a glass of fire whiskey. He had known of course, that it was not their first taste of the stuff, but they had pretended for that night. He had talked to them about the world, and the changes that were coming. He had talked about the challenges they would face, and expressed sadness that their coming of age would be marred by violence and death. And then he had told them that he was proud of them both, of the men they had become. And that no matter what the new year would bring, he was proud to have such fine sons.

By the next Christmas James and Lily had been married, secretly as Voldemort had already sowed enough anger against muggle born wizards and witches that a public affair would have been too high a risk. Shortly after the wedding they had buried James Potter Sr, and his wife. James and Lily and Sirius had all joined the order, and the world as they knew it had changed.

Sirius sighed heavily, trying to hold onto that memory of his last Christmas with the only loving parental figures he had ever known. He smiled sadly to Remus and nodded "You're right, we can't replace his bad memories… but the happy ones will always matter more."