25th December 1980
Remus was awake early.
His bare feet sunk into the carpet as he padded across the bedroom, careful not to wake Sirius. It was still dark outside and his owl hooted curiously as he passed, having just returned from his nightly hunt.
There was a chill in the air, with condensation clinging to the bottoms of the windows, visible in the glow from the streetlights outside.
Remus remembered Christmas mornings when he was a child, waking up to a stocking at the bottom of his bed and the stream of aunts and uncles that would pass in and out throughout the day.
He smiled as he thought of it, as he thought of other Christmases he'd had since, with his parents or at Hogwarts: of the Christmas when he and Sirius had kissed for the first time.
It had been a while since he'd spend Christmas with his father – the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Maybe he should call. He'd sent a jumper and card earlier in the month, and received a card in return, but the two of them had grown distant since he left home.
Some of that was Remus' fault, he knew.
But he didn't want to dwell on those thoughts; not today.
Today was about spending time with his friends, and trying to block out the disillusionment that had weighed heavily on them over the past few months. Since their argument, Remus had told Sirius that he wouldn't go on any more missions with Greyback.
He'd seen Greyback three times since he told that lie. The pile of letters shoved into an old shoe box at the back of his wardrobe were the sordid evidence – correspondence between himself and Dumbledore that had to be kept a secret.
He opened the wardrobe now, digging around for something warm to wear and pointedly ignoring the shoebox. Despite the darkness, he found a jumper easily enough, and pulled it over his head, warding off the winter chill.
By the time he was fully dressed it was only just gone seven, but when he turned back around he found Sirius led on his side, watching him.
"You're up."
"Has Santa been?" Sirius asked, a childlike glint in his eye that Remus hadn't seen in a long time. His smile was infectious.
"I don't know," Remus replied, "what did you ask for?"
"I don't know how these muggle traditions work Remus, I thought we left offerings for him, not the other way around - mince pies and what not."
"Sure, that's how it works."
"You're teasing me," Sirius pouted.
"Maybe."
"What if I asked for some mistletoe to help me charm a certain handsome stranger, do you reckon that would work?"
"I don't know about a stranger but – wait," Remus stopped as Sirius reached into his bed side table and pulled out a sprig of mistletoe – "where did you even get that?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," he said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. "But you know the rules."
"The rules?" Remus laughed.
"Mhhmm." He leant forward on the bed, wafting the mistletoe purposefully over Remus' head.
"I only just got dressed," he moaned.
Sirius grinned.
"But I guess if the mistletoe wills it…"
Some time later, Sirius and Remus were preparing to apparate to Godrick's Hollow for Christmas dinner. However, Remus was reluctant to leave.
"You can't take that."
"Why?" Sirius asked, "I made it."
"They wanted us to bring something edible," Remus said, holding up the Christmas pudding that he'd purchased earlier in the week for this very occasion. "I'm sorry Pad's but that is…" He hesitantly leant down to sniff the lumpy, red concoction that Sirius had branded 'cranberry sauce. "It's just not right."
"I followed the recipe in Madame Espio's book perfectly!" Sirius complained. "It can't be that bad: wait."
He set the sauce down on the kitchen table and bravely plucked a spoon from the draining board.
Remus watched as he ate a spoonful of the sauce, then watched as his face screwed up at the taste.
"Okay," Sirius admitted, hastily pouring himself a glass of water. "I see your point."
They arrived at James and Lily's just after two, thankfully lacking in cranberry sauce. Peter was already there, armed with several bottles of mead. He was sat cross legged on the floor while James and Lily flitted around the kitchen.
Harry was playing beside Peter, and Peter was watching him in alarm as he sucked on the corner of a wooden block. Peter wasn't used to children, and Harry's presence always seemed to make him nervous, like he was afraid he would fall over and break.
Of course, Sirius scooped Harry up as soon as they arrived, cooing at him with an easy manner that Remus envied.
"Who's my little quidditch captain," he said in a soppy voice, and Harry grinned at him with green eyes full of laughter.
"Have a drink, have a drink!" Lily enthused, whirling in from the kitchen and shoving glasses into his and Sirius' hands. James was right behind her, pulling them into one-armed hugs with wishes of "happy Christmas!" and "how's everything been?"
His smile was real and his words full of cheer, but there was still an edge to the way he spoke, an inflection they'd all become used to since he and Lily were forced into hiding.
He was going a little stir crazy, and they all knew that he would like nothing better than to take to the air on his broom and fly a few laps around the village.
"We're about to put the food out," Lily told them, "we'll shout you when it's done, but in the meantime drink, relax, be merry!"
They disappeared again into the kitchen, and Peter, Sirius and Remus all exchanged glances with one another.
"They're trying," Remus said, "it's nice."
"Yeah," Peter agreed, "I'm glad we're all together."
"Well, we couldn't miss Harry's first Christmas, could we buddy?" Sirius smiled, bouncing the baby on his hip. "Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus got you a really fun present, but I think we'll wait until after dinner for that, for your parents' sake.
"Were we supposed to get presents?" Peter asked, looking worried again.
"Don't worry about it Wormy," Remus shrugged.
"We didn't get you anything Pete," Sirius said, "just the little man, and James and Lily, of course."
Remus was spared having to respond to the hurt look on Peter's face by the bellow of "FOOD!" from the other room.
Obediently, the three of them filed into the dining room, Sirius popping Harry into his tinsel-adorned high chair on the way.
The table was piled high with food: huge bowls of vegetables, a large plate of meat, and a jug of steaming gravy. There was barely enough room for the five of them to fit around it, with Harry at the head of the table in his high chair.
"This is like the feasts at Hogwarts," Sirius commented, sliding into his chair. "I think you've cooked enough for all of Gryffindor here."
"As long as you don't compare our shoddy cooking to the house elves," Lily said.
"My mashed potatoes are glorious, I'll have you know," James replied indignantly.
They all filled their plates and dug in, while James held Harry in his lap and gave him a bottle of milk.
"I was never there for Christmas at Hogwarts," Peter said thoughtfully. "Wasn't it... lonely?"
"Not in sixth year," Lily said. "I practically moved into your dorm for the holidays. We got pretty smashed on fire whiskey, if I recall."
"And you left your skirt on the floor and James nearly had a heart attack thinking we'd been, uh, up to no good." Remus grinned at James, who was smiling down at Harry. It seemed unimaginable that James and Lily had once spent so long on the verge of dating, now that their lives were so thoroughly entwined.
"Seventh year was pretty eventful, too," Sirius said casually.
"The beginning of your illustrious romance?" James put Harry back into his high chair and began eating his own dinner.
"Not the most romantic start," Remus said, turning faintly red.
"Your broken nose was very romantic," Sirius replied. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The radio was on in the background, playing a Weird Sisters cover of a muggle Christmas song. Lily got up to turn the volume up, humming along to it. Harry was alternating between sucking on his dummy and throwing it onto the table, where it landed first on Sirius' plate, then in the bowl of carrots, and finally in the gravy boat.
"Have you all been reading the Prophet lately?" Peter asked hesitantly.
"Only Alice's articles," Lily replied. "The rest are all meaningless. They're just talking about ordinary rubbish as though we don't all have bigger problems. The latest front page was – what – something about a muggle unknowingly adopting a kneazle instead of a cat?"
"The ministry doesn't want us to panic," James said darkly. "That what they always told us when I was an auror. Keep a low profile, don't let anyone know anything's wrong."
"It's a bit late to hide it," Sirius snorted. "As though no one's noticed that we're at war."
"War?" Peter repeated, sounding a little startled. "It's not really a war, is it? I mean – it's not as bad as that."
"We're in a house magically disguised from the rest of the world because nowhere else is safe." Remus' voice was dry. "It's pretty bad, Peter."
"But - but it's not like You-Know-Who has an army or anything."
"Close enough to one," James said. "His numbers are greater than ours, anyway."
They fell silent as they finished their meal, forks scraping against plates as the last dregs of potato were scooped up. The song on the radio ended, and they caught the report that came on next.
"Sorry to interrupt your Christmases, folks," the newscaster said, "but we've just received word of an explosion in Greater London in a heavily populated muggle area. There's no official report from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement yet, but it's thought to have been caused by magical means. Witnesses have claimed to have seen figures in dark robes and masks at the scene. Civilians are advised to stay away from the area until further notice."
Lily put her knife and fork down so hard that her plate nearly fell off the edge of the table, and Harry threw his dummy again in solidarity. Remus and Sirius exchanged a solemn look. Without a word, Peter got up from the table and went out into the living room.
James followed him, gesturing for everyone else to stay. As he closed the door behind him, he saw Lily and Sirius begin piling up the empty plates, while Remus fished Harry's dummy out from under the table.
"Everything okay, Pete?" James asked in a low voice. Peter was standing by the fireplace, staring at the photos in their frames on the mantel. He was particularly looking at a photo of the four of them in their dorm in first year, half a lifetime ago.
"I dunno," Peter shrugged, "it's just weird, you know? I didn't think things would turn out like this."
"You mean the war?"
"I mean us. The four of us used to be" - Peter searched for the right words in frustration - "we felt invincible, back then. Like nothing could touch us."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," James said. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze trailing to the window, to the outside world that he was cut off from. "But things aren't so bad, right? You've got your own flat, your job at the post office."
Peter seemed to tense.
"My job isn't always great," he said. As James looked at him curiously, he quickly added, "Difficult customers, I mean."
"Yeah, well, at least you've got some freedom. At least you're not stuck in your house all the time."
"Just because your life is hard doesn't mean mine can't be hard too," Peter snapped.
James looked taken aback.
Reflexively, Peter said, "Sorry. I didn't mean that. Just - from where I'm standing, your life doesn't seem so bad. You've got Lily, and Harry. You seem happy."
"And you're not?" James asked.
Peter shrugged. "Not as happy as I used to be."
They were interrupted by the sound of Lily shouting, "Christmas pudding time!"
"Come on," James said with a lazy grin. "I know you, Peter, and nothing cheers you up more than pudding."
Peter managed a smile as they traipsed back into the dining room. Remus was holding Harry on his hip and being dribbled on. Lily and Sirius served the pudding, with a generous helping of custard, and Sirius let Harry suck some custard off his finger.
"All good?" Lily asked, with a shrewd look up at the two of them. James looked to Peter.
"All good," he said as they sat back down.
"Where are your parents for Christmas, Lily?" Remus asked to break the tension.
"With Petunia and Vernon." She wrinkled her nose as she said his name. "I'm sure they're having a delightful time."
"They named their son Dudley," James said, "which is proof enough in itself that they're terrible people."
"You lot are much better company," Lily agreed.
"I'll toast to that," Sirius said, pouring himself a glass of mulled wine.
"You'll toast to anything if it means you get to have a drink," Remus teased, but he let Sirius pour him a glass.
"Cheers," James said, lifting his own glass, "to many future Christmases ahead."