The Red Reign Challenge: This Christmastime
The Twelfth Night : A Faerie Tale
by I Got Tired of Waiting

December 28 : The Magic of Yuletide

Washing his breakfast plate, he groused, "I have to go to the old bint's again. Today she wants me to 'sweep her walks and get the ice off the gutters' because she's too damned lazy to go outside and flick her wand."

The beast, licking its whiskers clean of the last bits of milk and egg, favoured him with one of its more inscrutable stares.

"Afterwards, I'll take my wages and see what I can scrounge for our supper." As the cat rubbed against his ankles, purring in what he took to be sympathy, he added, "Do try to stay out of trouble." Sitting back on its haunches, the cat yowled at him in token protest, and he smiled.

Preparing to leave, he grabbed his old cloak off its peg and almost dropped it when the foreign magic within it sparked up his arms. Stunned, he glanced at the cat regarding him so solemnly before studying the like-new fabric; the warming charms he'd been unable to renew himself were as strong as anything he'd been able to cast before...

Not sensing anything harmful, he slid it on, luxuriating in the soft wool, its warmth reminding him strangely of Remus and the threadbare clothing he'd always worn. Cheered and yet depressed, he made his way out the door. And he wondered.

That evening, after a hearty supper of fish and chips shared with his new companion, they settled in his chair for an evening's read, the cat once again in his lap, purring as he absently petted it. His reading interrupted by his day's thoughts and memories, he set the book aside and concentrated on the creature deriving such pleasure from his merest touch.

That he enjoyed it as well didn't bear thought, so rather than dwell on it, he murmured, "Remus was a wolf, but only on the full moon. When I was young, I thought him handsome but was afraid of him, of all his kind really, and it wasn't until I was an adult that I learned to see past his nature to the man underneath." The cat shifted until his hands were buried in its belly fur. "He died, you know, saving my life. See, he went to a Death Eater meeting to rescue me when Voldemort confirmed I was a spy for Albus. I escaped," his voice broke, "and they tore him apart in retribution."

The cat licked his hand as he whispered, "He had no kin, so I can't even repay my debt to him." A furry head was laid into his open hand. "I didn't know him as well as I should have, but I do miss him."

It was strange how much comfort he found in this creature's simple touch, its tongue rough and raspy on the palm of his hand. Soon after, the cat jumped down and crawled under the tree, leaving him with his regrets and an odd sense of disappointment.

TBC