"Trade with me," Tonks pleaded, peering at the scrap of paper in his hand.

Charlie shoved the paper into his pocket. "You're not supposed to know who anyone else has. It's called Secret Santa."

She tried to fish it out of his pocket, but he slapped her hand away.

"Don't be an arsehole, Charlie. Let me have Remus. I got Hagrid – he'll be easy, you can just get him a fucking book on dragon grooming or something–"

"I'm not switching," Charlie said, getting to his feet. "You already know my opinion on this matter–"

"Which I never asked for, the way."

"–so stop harassing me to switch, and come have a drink and a piece of the apple pie Mum made."

"But–"

"You think I won't hex you, just because you're a big important Auror now? I work with Hungarian Horntails, Tonks. You don't scare me. Now quit being a pain in the arse and come have a drink. I'll even give you a tip on what to get Hagrid."

She glared at him for a moment, then stomped into the kitchen. He smiled to himself and followed, his fingers curling around the strip of paper in his pocket.

He spent the next Order meetings studying Remus. Gifts had never been Charlie's forte – for the past few years he had transferred money into Bill's Gringotts account and trusted him to pick out presents for everyone – but he couldn't bear to let Remus down. Much of Remus's life was a mystery to Charlie, but he knew the man had been through hell even before losing Sirius. How the fuck does he just carry on like nothing's wrong? Bill had muttered one night after Remus had left the Burrow. I think I'd just give up. Yet Remus trudged through life, with patches on his robes and holes in his jumpers and that brittle smile stretched thin on his face. The least I can do is get him a decent Christmas gift, Charlie resolved as he watched Remus comb his fingers through his sandy, silver-streaked hair.

Sometimes Remus read a battered paperback before meetings as he waited for the other Order members to arrive. Charlie tried to identify the titles, but they were all incomprehensible to him. The Great Gatsby? Fahrenheit 451? What the hell is a hobbit? He wandered into a Muggle bookshop after striking out at Flourish and Blotts, but he left feeling ridiculous after asking if they had anything similar to "The Hobbler."

When Charlie glimpsed Remus's elbow peeking through a hole in his cardigan, he decided to knit him a jumper. Molly was the real knitting talent of the family, but Charlie was good at scarves, and he could manage a passable jumper if he had ample time. He chose a soft gray yarn and the pattern he was least likely to mangle, and he set to work.

"If that's for me, you can save yourself the time," Tonks said one afternoon, nodding at the half-finished jumper. "It's lovely, but it's not rock and roll enough for me."

"It's not for you," Charlie said, shooing her hand away when she ran her finger along the collar. "It's for Remus." He chuckled as she eyed a lumpy, tangled bit. "And don't bother telling me it's shit – I know."

She smirked. "I mean, I'd still shag him if he was wearing this, but I'm biased."

"At this rate, I'm not going to finish it in time for Christmas anyway."

"Just have your mum help you finish it."

Charlie laughed. "Are you mad? She's got about fifty other knitting projects to finish. If I even come near her with this, she'll stab me in the eye with a knitting needle. Try it, if you don't believe me."

Tonks shook her head, eyes wide, and Charlie grinned. She could face Moody's grumpiest tirades without blinking, but she knew better than to mess with Molly Weasley.

Christmas drew closer. Charlie fretted over his uneven stitches, and once he came close to chucking the whole thing in the bin. By the time secret Santa gifts were due, the jumper had only one sleeve. Charlie gazed at it dejectedly, then tossed it down and dashed through the house in search of anything he could scrounge for a gift. He pulled open drawers and peered into closets before he found a Chocolate Frog on the kitchen table.

"Who's Chocolate Frog is this?" he called, then counted to five. When nobody responded, he slapped a bow on it and scrawled Remus's name on the wrapper before dropping it on the table of gifts and sliding into a chair.

"Do you have any snacks?" Tonks asked as she sat down beside him. "Some arsehole stole my Chocolate Frog."

After the meeting, everyone drifted to the front to retrieve their gifts. Charlie remained in his seat, watching Remus finish his conversation with Kingsley before he scanned the gift table. When his eyes landed on the Chocolate Frog, Charlie braced for a flash of disappointment. Instead, Remus's wan face lit up. He snatched up the Chocolate Frog, unwrapping it as he strode out of the room.

"Here's your gift, arsehole." Tonks plopped a parcel in his lap and gave him the two-finger salute. "Don't think I didn't notice Remus with my Chocolate Frog. You refused to switch with me, and you gave him a fucking stolen Chocolate Frog?"

"I didn't have time to finish the jumper." Charlie swallowed back a wave of guilt. "I'm still going to give it to him, I just needed a placeholder gift in the meantime. And I gave a courtesy shout before I took the Chocolate Frog – you've hung around here enough to know you can't leave candy lying around." He opened the parcel and pulled out a bottle of Ogden's. "If I share, will you forgive me?"

He spent the night knitting. Dawn was creeping through the curtains when he surveyed the finished jumper. There were a few uneven spots, and one sleeve was longer than the other, but he didn't have time to fix it. At least his elbow won't show, Charlie reasoned, stretching his cramped fingers.

The kitchen was silent when Charlie strolled in and found Remus hunched at the kitchen table, his long fingers curled around a mug of tea as he perused the Prophet.

"Morning. I made an extra cup of tea if you'd like." As Remus slid the mug across the table, Charlie saw his sharp, scarred elbow poking through the frayed cardigan. "Thanks for the Chocolate Frog."

"How'd you know it was from me?"

Remus shrugged. "I didn't, but now I do."

"Shit," Charlie said, chuckling. "I should've said it was from Bill or something so you wouldn't think I'm an arsehole for giving you the world's worst gift."

Remus set down his mug, frowning. "That wasn't the world's worst gift."

Charlie bit his lip. "I didn't even buy it. I stole it from Tonks."

Remus shrugged. "Stolen chocolate tastes better." His foot brushed Charlie's as he stretched out his impossibly long legs, and his lips curled into an apologetic, self-conscious smile. "It cheered me up after a long day. And it came with a Xavier Rastrick card." He pulled a card from his pocket and tapped the tap dancing man on the front.

"Is that a good one?"

Remus grinned. "No fucking idea. I never had the patience to collect them. I like him, though. Look at him tap dance."

Charlie's eyes traveled from the card to Remus's fingers. His cuticles were ragged and bitten, and Charlie was struck with another rush of guilt. "That wasn't your proper gift. I made you something, but I ran out of time."

Remus's eyes widened in astonishment. "You made me something?"

Charlie's cheeks flushed as he remembered the imperfect stitches and uneven sleeves. "It's not much."

"Can I see it?" Remus's words were soft and unassuming; Charlie couldn't say no.

"If you like." Charlie rose and beckoned to Remus. "I don't want to bring it down here — Mum would be disappointed if she saw my shoddy work."

Remus padded silently behind him up the narrow staircase, and Charlie felt oddly on-edge until he reached his old bedroom. When he pointed to the jumper, Remus's eyes lit up .

"You knit?"

Charlie eyed the jumper. "I'm not as good as my mum, obviously—"

"Charlie." Remus held up the jumper, beaming. "This must have taken ages. I love it."

Charlie traced the hole in Remus's cardigan, but he drew back when his finger grazed smooth, warm skin. "I figured you could use a new jumper — no offense."

"None taken." Remus trailed his finger along the collar, not seeming to notice Charlie's mistakes.

"I hope it fits." Charlie's eyes lingered on the imperfect jumper sleeve. "Will you try it on?"

Remus took a step toward the door, but Charlie shook his head. "Don't be silly, you can change here."

Charlie faced the wall, trying not to dwell on the fact that Remus Lupin was removing an article of clothing just a few feet away. Get ahold of yourself, Charlie scolded himself, turning to see Remus wearing the jumper along with a wide grin.

"The right sleeve is too short," Charlie said, tracing the inch of exposed wrist.

"Maybe my arm is too long."

Charlie gave a wry laugh. "You're very kind."

"You took the time to knit me a jumper. I'm hardly going to critique your methods — especially when my usual cardigan is older than you." He glanced at the jumper. "I like the color. It matches my hair. Was that intentional?"

Charlie let out a nervous laugh. "No – I just thought you'd look nice in it." Heat flooded his face as he touched a lock of Remus's hair. "I like your hair." Charlie Weasley, you idiot.

Remus smiled, but it wasn't the strained, paltry thing he donned to keep sympathy at bay. It eased the lines on his face and softened his scars; Charlie could sense joy radiating from him.

"I like your hair, too." He lifted a strand of Charlie's hair, and his touch sent currents of sensations through Charlie's body. "Thank you again for the jumper. It's perfect."

"It's not perfect. I stayed up all night to finish it – by the end I was too tired to count properly."

Remus's face creased with concern. "You should take a nap, then."

"No, I promised Mum I'd help her around the house." He raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you probably need a nap more than I do."

Remus's eyes darted to the bed. "I was planning to help with cleaning today. I've been sleeping on the sofa for days – the least I can do is make myself useful."

"I'll handle the cleaning. You deserve an actual bed –your back must be sore from that sofa." His eyes widened. "I wasn't saying that because you're old. You're not old."

Remus's soft laughter warmed Charlie's whole body.

"But really. I insist. Consider it part of your secret Santa gift." Charlie pulled back the duvet, then frowned. "Unless – I can change the sheets–"

"Not necessary."

Remus was already slipping under the covers. His raw, bloody cuticles caught Charlie's eye, sparking an idea.

"Hang on." Charlie rummaged through his bag and emerged with a battered tube of salve. He touched Remus's thumb, heart pounding. "Can I…?"

Remus nodded. Heat flooded Charlie's face as he smoothed salve on each bit of torn skin, his movements slow and gentle.

"What is that?"

"It'll help with healing, but also…" He smiled sheepishly. "It tastes terrible and leaves behind a sticky film. It keeps the dragons from biting or scratching themselves when they have scale rot."

Remus laughed. "That's perfect."

When Charlie reached the last finger, he released Remus's hand, already missing the light contact.

"Thank you, Charlie." Remus's eyelids drooped. "For everything."

Charlie pulled the duvet over Remus's arms. "You're welcome. Enjoy your nap."

He hurried from the room, a wide smile spreading across his face.