Disclaimer: All quotes are taken from Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".

Chapter 11 – Bah, Humbug!

On Christmas Morning, Remus did not go to the Great Hall for breakfast. It had been rather late when Severus had left, so Remus had decided on sleeping in, and when he awoke it was already 9:45 in the morning. When he was sitting at the dining table in his living room, eating a small breakfast, a tapping noise at the window caught his attention. He went over to the window, and when he had opened it, a large, white owl, which was carrying a packet, swept into the room.

"Hedwig!"

The snowy owl hooted softly and decided on landing on the dining table. Remus followed her and took the packet that was addressed at him. Unwrapping the paper, he wondered what Harry would want to send him. It was, as it turned out, a book, entitled A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

With the book was an envelope. Remus took the parchment out and read:

'Dear Remus,

I hope you're fine – I am, since Mrs. Weasley was shocked when she saw me at King's Cross, and now she's fussing over me all the time.

I found this book in a Muggle bookshop – after we went to Diagon Alley on Thursday, I was able convince Mrs. Weasley to go to Muggle London – and I thought you could like it. I must admit that I read through it yesterday, and I think it's great.

I must stop now, because Mrs. Weasley will get a little… overprotective if I don't turn up for dinner on time. She always wants to make sure that I eat enough. To tell the truth, I'm feeling a little like she wants to fatten me up – I can never finish what she dishes up.

Happy Christmas, Remus!

Harry'

When he had finished reading, Remus kept staring absent-mindedly at the letter. He felt more than a little embarrassed at the fact that Harry had sent him a Christmas present, whereas he had not been able to afford presents for anyone. He had thought about buying one at least for Harry and Severus, but it had been simply impossible. Sighing, Remus looked around in his living room. When he had come to Hogwarts again, he had been tired of living in rooms with furniture that was not his own – all those skimpy, furnished apartments during the last years, and then Grimmauld Place, which no one in their right minds could call homey – and so he had decided on buying new furniture for his rooms at Hogwarts, which he would pay by instalments. Unfortunately, this left him with practically no money to spend on anything else.
On the other hand… maybe it was rather good that he did not have a present for Severus. It could have embarrassed him, since they were not really what could be called 'friends'. It might have been too much in too short a time. He should be content with Severus having accepted the invitation, he told himself.

Moreover, he had not the slightest idea what he should have bought for the Potions Master. What did he know about his interests – besides potions and chess? He doubted he could have found any book on potions that Severus did not already possess or know of…

A soft picking at his fingers tore Remus out of his thoughts.

"Oh, Hedwig," he said to the owl, which hooted in response, "just wait a minute." He went over to the desk and quickly wrote an answer to the letter. Once the roll of parchment was tied to Hedwig's leg, she spread her large wings and, after a last hoot, swept out of the window.

After finishing his breakfast, Remus had plenty of time before he would meet Severus for lunch in the Great Hall and, not having anything else to do, he settled down on the sofa and began reading the book Harry had sent him.

At the same time, Severus was working in his private lab, brewing some healing potions for the infirmary storage, which needed stocking up until the end of the holidays. Incredible as it was, the students had managed to inflict so much damage on themselves in only four months of school that the infirmary's supply of potions was almost used up by now. Of course, it was not really necessary to begin this work on Christmas morning, but it was a welcome distraction from tonight's events.

And from what was to come in the afternoon. Thinking more deeply about it, Severus slightly doubted it to be a wise decision to spend a whole afternoon with Lupin. What could they possibly do all this time? They could not play chess all along, and he did not know anything about the man's interests. What were they supposed to talk about? Their work? Well, that would be Potions, for his own part. He could not help smirking, while carefully slicing the asphodel roots. When it came to Potions, Lupin was almost as incompetent as Longbottom, or Potter. Irritated, Severus shook his head. Certainly there were more enjoyable things to think of at Christmas morning than Harry Potter. Thankfully, the boy had left for the holidays with his red-headed minions, and Severus would not have to endure the sight of him until the beginning of the new year.

Adding the sliced roots to the boiling, plum liquid in one of the bigger cauldrons, Severus again began wondering about possible topics for a conversation, ignoring the nagging question why he even cared. Defence Against The Dark Arts perhaps? They were both familiar with the subject, Lupin being the current teacher and he himself applying for the position every year. Severus scowled at the thought. Albus would never give him this position, he knew, so it was futile to constantly do so. And yet – every year he would try again, his sense of duty not letting him rest until he again received Albus's denial.

He did not really desire to teach Defence, since he was quite content with his current position. Potions had always been his special subject, but, knowing more about the Dark Arts than any of the previous teachers, he felt that it was his duty to teach those children how to defend themselves against them. It was his blasted duty to teach Potter, above all, how to defend himself.

Potter - again! Angrily, Severus uncorked a bottle and almost poured too much salamander blood into the strengthening potion. As if it was not bad enough that he had to deal with him during classes, no, the brat haunted his mind even when physically absent, like he always would.

A hissing noise and silver steam, deriving from a cauldron on the opposite side of the lab, caught Severus's attention, and he eagerly threw his mind on the distraction. Slowly, ignoring the dull thudding in his right knee, he walked over to the cauldron, which contained a potion the Dark Lord had required from him. It was a first attempt on a liquid Imperius Curse and would be tested on the Muggles they had captured the previous night.

Of course there had to be a summoning and a Muggle hunting party the night before Christmas Day. Hauling off unsuspecting, innocent Muggles from their families, at now of all possible times, was just what the Dark Lord's perverted mind would come up with, Severus thought in disgust. Fortunately, he had not had to participate in this activity. Instead, he had been questioned about his proceedings concerning the Imperius Potion, which he should have had finished tonight. It had been of no use to explain his impatient Dark Lord that it had been completely illusionary to believe such an experimental potion could be concocted properly in so short a time.

His master had not been pleased, and Severus had been placed under the Cruciatus curse repeatedly. During this he somehow must have injured his right knee, for when he had returned to Hogwarts some time beyond midnight, he had hardly been able to walk, stabbing pain making him grit his teeth and almost moan aloud whenever he strained the leg. He had downed a vial of the most potent painkilling potion he had on store and then had tried to get some refreshing sleep. But – although this time he fortunately had not been exposed to Lucius' presence, the latter having been the leader of the 'hunting party' – he had tried in vain. The few hours of sleep until morning had been shredded by dreams and thoughts, and finally, at about 5:30 in the morning, Severus had begun working to occupy his mind.

Severus focussed his attention on the cauldron in front of him. The colour of its contents reminded him of the silvery liquid that thoughts would turn in when placed in a Pensieve. A Pensieve… Potter, whose head was sticking in his, Severus's, Pensieve. Suddenly beholding this image before his inner eye, Severus snorted in exasperation. This boy was going to be the death of him in one way or another. If he was not killed sooner or later in an attempt to save the brat from whatever kind of trouble he seemed so skilled in getting himself into, then he would go insane with brooding over the person he wished to think of least.
Adding belladonna essence and then stirring the potion in slow, anticlockwise motions, Severus tried to ban the irritating thoughts, still hoping to be able to find the tranquillity he normally derived from his work. Whenever he was upset, whenever he needed to occupy his mind, he would lock himself up in his lab. Brewing potions was not labour but almost a kind of relaxation. Potions were not uncontrollable like people. If you stuck to the prescription, you were in perfect control. Severus hated nothing more than unforeseen events. Such as the incident with Potter and the pensieve…

Finding the boy snooping around in his memories had put him over the edge and deprived him of any rationality. Severus had not freed himself of those images before the Occlumency lesson without reason - after Potter had indeed managed to get a glimpse of Severus's parents arguing, he had thought it wiser to rid his mind of the most unpleasant parts of his past before every lesson. He most certainly did not wish Potter, of all people, to know about certain events. Damnit, the whole affair with Lucius was in there! What if Potter had witnessed it? Seldom did Severus lose control in this extreme way, but this time he had been beside himself with rage - and even more with fear. How much had Potter seen?

Severus had been frantic about this question. After the boy had fled from his office, he had roughly guessed the time he had been away and then had – as much as he hated it – watched his own memories, actually checking how long he needed to do so. He had had no words to describe his relief when he had noticed that Potter's visit in his thoughts had been far too short to see anything but the unpleasant incident at the day of his O.W.L. tests - although this was embarrassing enough to make him refuse to continue the Occlumency lessons. No one, and least Potter, had the right to spy on him in this way.

Well, at least Potter now had learnt that his father indeed had been every bit as smug and reckless as Severus had always told him. He felt a certain grim satisfaction at this. No, James Potter had by no means been a saint; he had been a stupid, careless, arrogant snob.

A snob whom Severus had owed a life debt – and he had miserably failed to pay it.

No! Severus shook his head in a vain attempt to banish the self-accusing thought. It was bad enough to be attacked by it every time he had to face the bloody carbon copy of James. How he had for almost ten years dreaded the day that Potter would come to attend his first year at Hogwarts! And seeing the boy for the first time had been harder than he had ever imagined. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the living remembrance of his failure…

Bubbling noises from the cauldron drew Severus's attention back to his work. The potion had changed its colour from silver into a translucent blue, which indicated that now it was the time to add the powdered dragon horn. Carefully, he weighed the first small portion and poured it into the mixture, then stirred several minutes before repeating his action. The potion needed three ounces of the powder, but if more than five grams were added at once, it would explode. Outmost concentration was required, and Severus, eager to escape his brooding, was completely taken up in his work for the next hours.

The early afternoon found Lupin and Severus at the skirts of the Forbidden Forest. After Christmas Dinner Lupin had proposed a walk, and Severus had accepted, far too proud to mention his injured leg. Moreover, a walk was the best possibility to kill time and make small talk. One could comment on the weather, the landscape or the creatures of the forest for example, instead of awkwardly searching for a topic both of them would find interesting.

Severus deeply inhaled the crisp air and listened half-heartedly to Lupin, who was talking about the Acromantulas which were living in the depths of the forest. Due to his knee, which kept throbbing and made him limp a little in spite of his best efforts, he had to concentrate more on the snowy and uneven ground than on his colleague's words.

.-.-.-.-.

"…never understand just why Hagrid had to give it the opportunity to breed! I mean, honestly, who needs even more of those spiders here on – Severus!"

Remus had barely time to react when Severus suddenly cried out painfully, and it was only in the last moment that he caught him and prevented him from falling. The sudden surge of adrenaline slowly abating, Remus found his own face only centimetres away from the other man's. For some indefinable reason he felt paralysed, staring into the deep, black eyes, which were oddly becoming to Severus's white face. Some singular snowflakes settled down on the raven hair. Everything about Severus seemed to be either black or white; he seemed to be made of contrasts which were matching up in a magnetic way. Remus became strangely aware of the body in his arms, and a tingling sensation began to spread though him – and then the moment was gone.

.-.-.-.-.

Hastily, Severus pulled back and stumbled a step backwards, only to feel his right leg give in, which again made him fall and this time actually hit the ground.

"Snape, are you alright?" Lupin's worried voice asked.

"Damned tree roots… can't see them through the snow," Severus grumbled. Looking up into his colleague's concerned face, he said "I'm fine, don't worry," and tried to stand up. A sharp pain instantly raced through his knee, and only a second later he found himself again lying on the cold ground.

Trying to keep his anger under control, he scanned his knee. It was swollen considerably, and even this slight touch made him wince with pain. Great! That was the last thing he needed! Swearing under his breath, Severus tried again to get up. There was no other option. He would have to walk back.

"You can't walk," Lupin stated quietly when Severus found himself on the ground for the third time. "Let me help you."

Severus closed his eyes, trying to brace himself. He was not able to walk on his own, therefore Lupin would help him back to the castle. It was logical; it was the obvious thing to do.
He would have to touch him.

Opening his eyes, he saw Lupin standing in front of him, with a hand outstretched to help him up. There was an odd expression of pain on his face that Severus did not understand. He blinked, and it was gone. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and took the offered hand.

.-.-.-.-.

"We're almost there."

Hearing those words, Severus thanked whatever godhood there might be for people like him. After half of the distance, he had not even been able to walk with his colleague's support anymore, his knee giving in with every step. Therefore, Lupin was carrying him now, and it was a most disturbing experience, to say the least.

On the one hand he felt the pushing desire to break free and, if need be, crawl the remaining way back to the castle to be delivered from the touch and the humiliation all this brought about. On the other hand, and this was what was upsetting him even more, his current position evoked in him remembrances of the night at Grimmauld Place. Lupin's arms around him, holding him close… it made him wish to simply close his eyes and rest his head on the other man's shoulder, a strange inner voice promising a feeling of security if he did so.

And what exactly had happened back there, when he had tripped over that accursed root? Slowly recovering from the atrocious pain, he had realised that he had not fallen down but that someone was holding him. When the world had come back to focus, he had found himself face to face with Lupin, and somehow he had not been able to move or look away for some slow seconds. Instead, he had been fascinated by a snowflake that was melting on the other man's cheek, and by those amazingly intense brown eyes…

"Just a few minutes, I can already see the castle," Lupin's voice tore him out of his musing.

"Thank Merlin," he breathed, gratefully leaving those disturbing thoughts behind.

.-.-.-.-.

"Thank Merlin," Remus heard Severus murmur. Only too well did he understand what exactly was troubling the Potions Master. Even through the thick, lined coats they were wearing, he could feel the slight tremors which were running through the alarmingly light body in his arms. When he had offered to help him, he had seen the unadulterated fear in the other man's eyes – a sight which had deeply saddened him. He headed towards the castle as quickly as possible, not wanting Severus to have to endure his touch longer than necessary.

And yet – a small, irritating voice at the back of his mind which he tried to blind out as much as possible kept telling him just how right it felt to hold this man, how good Severus fitted into his arms, how much he liked having him that close.

"Where are you going?" came Severus's voice.

Clearing his thoughts, Remus noticed that he automatically had taken the way to his private rooms.

"My rooms are nearer than the dungeons," he replied. "You can take the Floo from there."

Severus nodded. "Sounds reasonable."

.-.-.-.-.

When they had arrived, Lupin placed Severus on the large sofa, the injured leg outstretched. Relief and, to his utmost confusion, a prick of disappointment surged up in Severus at the loss of contact.

"I have some painkillers here," Lupin said, disappearing behind a door. Meanwhile, Severus rid himself of his wet, heavy cloak and let it fall unceremoniously on the floor beside him. Some moments later his colleague returned with a vial that he handed Severus. "Poppy's not here, but I could get you a mediwizard, if you like."

"No, thank you," Severus replied after downing the potion. "I'll see to it myself later. I have… some experience."

"What happened to your leg?" Lupin inquired, taking off his cloak and sitting down in his own chair. "You were limping a little even before tripping over that root."

"There was a summoning tonight," Severus stated hesitatingly. "I was supposed to have finished a new potion, a liquid Imperius, but it was not ready yet. I was punished. It must have happened then. I… don't remember the details." Just why had he told this now?

"Cruciatus?" Lupin asked quietly.

Severus did not answer.

"I'm sorry." The honest sympathy on Lupin's face abashed Severus to the core.

"Don't be!" he replied harshly. "Not for me. Save your pity for the Muggles they dragged out of their homes yesterday night to be the guinea pigs for the potion. Men, women and children, so its effects can be studied on as many different people as possible. They will drink it, and they will die. All of them." He tried to keep his voice indifferent. "The potion is a first attempt, and I doubt it will work correctly. They hardly ever do, and certainly not if they are brewed in a hurry, like this one. If anything, it will corrode their stomachs and they will die, spouting blood and frazzles of their own bowels." His throat was incredibly dry, his voice raspy. "I will watch. And when they are dead, I will conduct autopsies on the corpses to understand the effects the potion had on them. I will learn from my mistakes and change the prescription accordingly. Then I will brew a new one. And test it. The procedure will be repeated as many times as necessary."

Reaching the end of his speech, Severus had closed his eyes. He had no idea why he had told Lupin this, did not know why suddenly he had felt the upsetting urge to confide this horrid part of his task as the Dark Lord's Potions Master to him, nor why now that he had gotten it off his chest he felt relieved in a way he had never known.

His words were rewarded with a silence that made him keep his eyes downcast. The relief dwindled quickly. As the minutes crept by, he felt the familiar chain entwine around his chest. Breathing was becoming difficult.

Severus chided himself for feeling so miserable about a werewolf's rejection. How pathetic he was! Moreover, wasn't Lupin right? All the lives he would take… all the lives he had taken before… Their eyes would never leave him; wide with fear, silently begging him to have mercy on them…

"I should go," he finally ground out, feeling desperately tired.

"Would you care for a bite to eat first?"

Confusedly looking up and meeting the other man's gaze, Severus saw a mixture of sadness and understanding in the hazel eyes that he had only known from Albus before.

"You didn't have that much for lunch," Lupin went on in that soothingly soft voice of his, "and I'm hungry as a hunter."

A bunch of heat exploded in Severus's stomach as he realised the pure, unconfined acceptance behind the invitation. It spread through his torso and limbs, making him feel shaky and slightly dizzy as it reached his head. The chain around his chest loosened. Slowly, he nodded, not trusting his own voice.

A small smile appeared on Lupin's face. "Dobby!" he called, clicking his fingers.

With a "pop" the most odd-looking house-elf Severus had ever seen appeared. He was wearing two oversized, mismatched socks, a maroon jumper, and on his head he balanced a ridiculous amount of what seemed to be badly knitted egg cosies.

"What can Dobby do for Professor Lupin, sir?" he squeaked.

"We need something to eat for two people, Dobby," Lupin told him. "Leftovers from Christmas Dinner will be fine, I think. And some Mince Pie and… tea, Snape?" Severus nodded. "And tea, please," Lupin finished.

"Yes, Professor Lupin, sir! Dobby will be right back!" the house-elf said eagerly and bowed so low that his long nose almost scratched the floor. Severus idly wondered why the odd-shaped hats did not fall from between the floppy ears.

They ate in silence. Dobby had brought a large tray with Mince Pie, Christmas Pudding and other things which did not in the least whet Severus's appetite. Listlessly, he picked at the food.

"You still could have gone to spend the evening with Potter and the Weasleys," he finally said, unable to hold back with what had occupied his mind for quite some time now. Why on earth would Lupin prefer his company to the presence of people he actually liked? People who liked Christmas and most certainly would not effuse bad temper like a leaky cauldron, which he knew was exactly what he was doing most of his waking time. "This can't be your idea of an enjoyable Christmas Day."

"James?"

"No, Sirius, it's me, Remus."

"Please, I didn't… James, believe me…"

"Sirius, listen, it's Remus… everything's alright," Remus said, gently seizing his friend by the shoulders. It was in the evening of December 25th, Christmas Day, and for two days now Sirius had slithered from one attack into the other. This time, however, it was particularly bad.

"No, let me go! You won't get me!" Sirius yelled, struggling free from his friend's grip - Remus had stopped counting how often this had happened now - and huddling flat against the wall. His unfocused eyes were wide with fear.

"Sirius," Remus tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could, "don't be afraid. They won't get you. I'll protect you."

Sirius whimpered. He did not move.

"Shh, it's alright." Slowly, Remus approached his friend. "Don't be afraid. You're safe with me. It's me, Remus. I won't hurt you."

"R-remus?" There was a hint of hope in Sirius's voice.

"Yes, it's Remus. I'm here. Everything's alright."

"Remus, I'm s-sorry, I d-didn't mean t-to… I d-didn't do it, please..." Sirius was nearly hysterical, his voice trembling.

"Shhh, I know," Remus soothed, "don't worry, I know." Slowly, he touched Sirius's arm. When the other man did not shrink back, he came nearer and lightly rested his right hand on his former lover's shoulder. "I know you're innocent," he said. "Everything's going to be alright. Please, trust me."

"Okay," Sirius whispered. Remus frowned, noticing that his eyes were still glassy.

"Sirius, I need you to come back, please." He pulled back his hand to touch his friend's face.

"D-don't leave me," Sirius pleaded at the loss of contact. "Don't leave me alone…" A tear was trickling down his cheek. "Always alone…"

Remus bit his lower lip until he tasted blood. How long would he be able to bear seeing the man he loved suffer like this? "I won't leave you, I'll always be with you. I promise."

"I love you, Remus…"

Remus was almost choking on the pained groan that tried to escape his throat, but he did not let it break free. Instead, he pulled Sirius into a gentle embrace and closed his eyes. He knew his friend was not speaking to him, knew that this was a younger Sirius, declaring a love that had been taken from him during twelve endless years.

"Remus…?" The longing in Sirius's voice hurt.

"Yes, I'm here, I'm here," Remus whispered hoarsely. "I love you, too." He could feel the body in his arms beginning to shake as the tears broke way. "I'm here, Sirius, don't you cry… I'm here, I'll always be."

Severus noticed an expression of what seemed to be raw pain flicker across the other man's face. In an instant, it was replaced with a small smile.

"I think I've had much worse," Lupin said softly. There was a hint of melancholy in his voice Severus did not know how to sort. Last Christmas Lupin must have spent with his lover, Black. He obviously could not mean that year. But now that Black was dead… maybe Lupin was not in the right mood for all the cheeriness of a full house like The Burrow.

In an attempt to switch subjects, Severus looked around and spotted a book on the table.

"You're reading Dickens?" he asked surprisedly.

"Yes. It's a present from Harry; he sent it this morning. Actually, I've read several others so far. Great Expectations, Oliver Twist and Hard Times. But this one I hadn't read until today." Much like an afterthought Lupin added "Do you know it?"

"I do," Severus replied. "It was the first one I read from Dickens. The others you mentioned I have read as well." He was strangely pleased that there seemed to be something they had in common.

"So?" Lupin asked.

"So… what?"

"So, what do you think about it? It provides a really interesting view on Christmas, don't you think?"

"If you're referring to Scrooge's view, then yes, it does," Severus answered dryly.

Lupin chuckled. "I should have known you would like him in particular," he said. "I bet you can quote him."
Severus arched a brow. "Indeed."

Lupin suddenly picked up the book from the table and opened it. A couple of seconds he spent with skimming the first pages until he seemed to have found what he had been looking for.

"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" he cried in a cheerful voice.

Severus frowned. He was not supposed to play along in this silliness, now was he? Lupin's eyes twinkled amusedly. Severus liked this better than the pain he head seen there before and wanted it to last.

"Bah!" said Severus, "Humbug!"

"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" read his colleague. "You don't mean that, I am sure?"

"I do," said Severus. "Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough."

"Come, then," returned Lupin gaily. "What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough."

Severus, sticking to the text they were quoting, said "Bah!" again; and followed it up with "Humbug."

"Don't be cross, uncle!" said Lupin.

"What else can I be," returned Severus, "when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will," said Severus indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!"

Lupin chuckled again, and Severus found himself mentally listing several potions to slowly poison the man if he should dare to make a remark about how fitting this text was for him.

"Well, I for my part would rather stick to nephew Fred and Bob Cratchit," Lupin stated. "And what do you think about the end?"

"It's highly unrealistic. Nonsense," Severus replied disdainfully. "It's for romanticists, for dreamers."
"Do you like it?"

This was a question he had not expected. Therefore, he replied without thinking "When I read it for the first time, yes. Very much."

"Why?"

"Because I was twelve and naïve and desperately longing for an ideal world. Especially at Christmas." The words were uttered harshly and in intended self-contempt. He did not even know why he had answered truthfully.

"And do you like it still?"

Severus closed his eyes. The calm question would not stop pulling at him.

"Yes."

"Still naïve, then?" Lupin's gentle and understanding tone caused Severus to feel drained. How did it come that this man was so easily able to penetrate his defence?

"Bah! Humbug," he muttered once more. He did not even try to sound convincing.

Remus and Severus had spent the evening talking about literature and playing an inevitable game of chess, which Severus had won. It had come as an enjoyable surprise that their taste of books was mostly the same, at least as far as the Muggle classics were concerned. Severus did not take that much pleasure in contemporary literature - it seemed that he considered reading anything that had been written after 1900 and was not a Potions book a waste of time.

And light fiction - which Remus every now and then enjoyed quite a lot – seemed to be completely out of the question. Finally, he had succeeded in convincing the Potions Master to at least take a look at Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Some people might consider it a sedative, but to Remus it was the most artfully written fantasy novel which had been published so far, and he thought his colleague might actually like it.

There was another reason, too, that Remus was in high spirits when he finally went to bed at about 10 in the night. When he had come to the Great Hall for Christmas Dinner with Severus and Albus, he had found a roll of parchment at his place which said that this year there would be Christmas bonuses for all the teachers. Remus had been thrilled. Now he could buy a belated Christmas present for Harry – and maybe one or two new robes for himself, since his current ones were not even worth the thread he regularly darned them with.

It was the thought of the line on the bottom of the parchment, though, that made him smile before he finally fell asleep.

'I think you might find it helpful to know that Severus's birthday is on January 9th.'