**Insert standard not-JKR disclaimer here**

Chapter Seven: Cake, Candles, and Christmas

"Remus?" Ian popped into the back room of the Goblet. "Could you come watch the bar for a few minutes? I've got a bit of paperwork I want to take care of quick."

"Sure." Remus wasn't doing much at the moment, anyway. There were no dishes to be washed or tables to be cleaned. He had just been keeping an eye on Maddie's stew, stirring it with a flick of his wand every now and then. It was unusually slow for a Thursday night at the Golden Goblet. Lyra had assured him business would pick up as the Christmas holiday approached, between people stopping in for a drink after— or during— their shopping outings, and harried wives wanting to go to dinner more to decrease their workload after afternoons spent decorating. He took up a position behind the counter, and in moments was chatting with one of their regulars. He had been there perhaps fifteen minutes and served only a few customers when Ian returned, saying he could take over again now. Obligingly, Remus went back to the kitchen.

"SURPRISE!" Maddie and Lyra shouted, standing behind the table. A space in the center had been cleared of the various items usually covering it and a cake bearing the legend Happy Birthday, Remus! sat there.

"We know it was yesterday, but you didn't work then," Ian explained. Remus jumped slightly and looked over his shoulder to find that Ian had followed and was standing in the doorway. "I hope you gave yourself the day off from your studies, too."

Remus hadn't. He had acknowledged his birthday only with memories of past years and celebrations with the Marauders, and with the thought that being 23 didn't look likely to be any better than being 22. But he didn't say this; he barely skimmed over it in his mind as he grinned and asked, "How did you guys even know?"

"You did fill out an official job application, even if it was after the fact," Ian reminded him, "Your date of birth is on there. I hope an extra Galleon in your pay this week will be a sufficient belated gift." The corners of Ian's mouth rose briefly.

"You don't have to do that, Ian," Remus protested, "You guys didn't have to do any of this…"

"Of course we did," Maddie promptly replied, coming over to hug him and pat his cheek in a way no one had since his mother's death, "It's only a cake, dear. No need to get all overwhelmed."

Lyra followed her mother and threw her arms around Remus as well, lingering just a few seconds longer. "Besides, we couldn't just let your first birthday in Wicklow go completely unnoticed. Come on, take a break; sit down and have some cake. I did the icing."

Remus wasn't due for his second break for another two hours. He looked at Ian, who nodded. "Go on, son. It's not like we're busy or anything tonight."

He sat with Maddie and Lyra while Ian went back to watching the bar. Maddie served them cake and milk, chatting as she did so. The three of them talked about nothing in particular— town gossip, the likelihood of snow before December, whether or not Ireland would make it into the playoffs for the next World Cup— until Maddie finished her cake and excused herself to join her husband.

"So you didn't stop in for your dinner like usual yesterday. Did you go back home to celebrate?" Lyra asked.

"You mean to England?" Remus shook his head. To a dusty abandoned house in the country? There is no home there anymore. "No, I just spent a quiet evening at my flat. I was never one to make a big fuss over birthdays." It was always the guys who made all the fuss.

"Mum and Dad haven't let me have a quiet birthday since—" Lyra broke off abruptly, alarm and then embarrassment passing over her face in quick succession before she smoothed her expression out and amended, "Well, for a long time anyway." She shrugged. "It's a side effect of being an only child, I guess."

"I'm an only child, as well." The words were out of his mouth before Remus thought about them. Why on earth had he said that? It was against the rules to give away personal information. Somehow Lyra always got his guard down. First questioning her, now giving away information about himself. He had to be more careful.

"Yeah? So did you have a lot of big parties as a kid too, and now that you're on your own you're sick of it?"

Remus shook his head. Time to steer this conversation into safer waters. "No, not really. My Mum worked a lot and my father… wasn't around." Ran away when I became a werewolf. "But I'm impressed your parents always found time, while running a tavern."

Lyra shrugged. "Nah, it was easy. We just have my parties here. Most of the town comes. It does mean lots of presents." She giggled. "What does your mum do, that keeps her so busy?"

"Did. She was an Auror for the Ministry. She died in the war." What happened to safer waters? This is not what I had in mind… come on, Remus!

"I'm very sorry." But Lyra looked really interested now. "I grew up hearing the stories about Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, read about them in the newspapers, but the war didn't touch us so much here. There were a couple of incidents, with Death Eaters wanting to take things from the library— a few people were killed in one of the confrontations; I remember, I was fifteen at the time— but it was nothing like in England. Did you fight at all?"
Remus nearly dropped his fork. She asked it so innocently, like a student in a history class. She meant no harm. He realized he was mashing what was left of his cake to pulp. Abruptly, he said, "Speaking of the library, I've nearly finished up my studies on the first floor. Just a few more documents on winged horses and a handful of papers on the yeti. I expect to be finished by the end of the year."

Lyra watched him for several moments. Remus could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Lyra might be innocent, but she was not stupid. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again. A battle between tact and natural inquisitiveness was raging inside her. She bit her lip, then merely said, "That's good. I hope Dumbledore is pleased with all your work."

Remus sat in a dark corner of the library, trying to focus on an article called Taming the Yeti. Some Tibetan wizard in the 17th century had a romantic notion that it would be possible to domesticate the Yeti and integrate them into society. A footnote informed him that the author had been killed, aged 26, when he tried to seek out a Yeti den in the mountainside above his village to test his ideas. Remus rubbed his eyes and sighed, checking his watch. 2:45. He'd have to stop in fifteen more minutes anyway, to be able to drop by his flat before work. He made a final notation on the man's ridiculous theories, and put his quill down, capping his ink bottle. Not that Voldemort would even try to use a Yeti against Harry. Foolish is one thing Voldemort is not. He could stop a few minutes early today. It would be good to give himself extra time to walk home.

He stood slowly, drawing in a sharp breath and putting a hand to his ribs. He was fairly certain a few of them were fractured. Full moon two days ago had been another bad one. Remus gathered his things together slowly, waiting for his dizziness to subside. He had lost more blood than usual. What was he thinking? There was no longer a scale of "good" to "bad" full moons. That scale had been with the Animagi. Now they only went from "bad" to "worse" to "awful". And Wednesday's definitely qualified as "awful". He placed his bag gingerly on his shoulder and made his way stiffly from the library, smiling at Irene as he passed the welcome desk. He was glad he had sent a Patronus-message to work saying he was ill yesterday, rather than coming up with another excuse. It meant slightly less pretending for him.

Snowflakes were falling as he headed carefully down the path. The cloak from James, though, kept him warm. It still looked new, despite nearly a year of use. Remus hung it on its peg as he let himself into the flat, dropping his bag next to it. Time check: 3:20. He should edit today's notes… instead he moved toward the kettle. He really needed an extra cup of tea if he was going to make it through work. He eased himself into a chair at the kitchen table with his mug, watching the storm through window above the sink, the only one in the flat. With the weather like this, hopefully it would be another slow night at the Goblet.

It seemed he had been resting only a moment when he glanced at his watch and realized it was 3:45, time to go. He rose and noticed the dizziness wasn't so bad now, just fleeting. Involuntarily he remembered a time when by this point the moon's effects would linger only in a slight tiredness. He glanced behind him, at the picture on the bedside table, as he fastened his cloak back on. The little figures waved cheerily at him. He tore his gaze away and hurried down the street, locking the flat behind him with a jab of his wand. The snow had definitely picked up in the half-hour he was indoors. Surely the tavern would be empty… but it wasn't. The moment he walked in Maddie exclaimed, "Oh, thank goodness you're here! Quickly, get those washed or we won't have dishes left to serve on!" And she rushed out levitating a laden tray in front of her. Remus took off his cloak, having the dishes start washing themselves as he did so. He sped up the spell, making the dishes go twice as fast, but still personally inspecting each one after it dried itself to make sure it was properly clean. His attention to detail was one of the things Maddie loved most about her employee.

"Hi, Remus!" Lyra greeted cheerfully, as she opened the oven and guided several of her mother's pies onto a cooling rack, one at a time, with her wand, "Nothing like the beginning of a storm to bring the town out, eh?"
"Actually, I thought everyone would be at home. You know, where they can be snug and warm," he replied.

"Nooo. That'll be for the next few days, if the storm gets bad. But when it's just starting up like this everyone has to come out and talk about how awful it will be, put in their guesses. It's Wicklow tradition."

"Ah, I see. I must have missed all the big storms last winter."

Lyra considered a moment. "Yeah, I don't think there were any after you got here. The really big one was just before Christmas." They were both silent for a bit. A scrap of parchment landed in front of Lyra with a dessert order for three slices of cherry pie and two of pumpkin. As she was spooning some homemade whipped cream on top of them, she suddenly asked, "Remus, are you going to England for Christmas?"

Caught off-guard, he answered automatically, "No."

She placed the plates by hand onto a tray. "Do you have family coming to visit you here? Any plans at all?"

A movement that was too quick caused pain to race along Remus' ribs for a moment, and he lost his concentration on levitating clean dishes onto the shelf. Quickly re-focusing on the dishes before they fell, he said, "No."

Lyra lifted the tray onto her shoulder with a soft oomph. "Well, then you'll simply have to spend the day with us. I'll tell Mum and Dad." She left for the front room.

Remus started, opening his mouth to protest, but she was already gone. He stared at the door. How did that girl get past his barriers? No one was supposed to be able to do that, not anymore. He'd just have to tell Maddie that Lyra had misunderstood. It was absolutely unacceptable to get this close to any of the townspeople, his employers included. He would spend the holiday alone. That decided, he turned to pre-slicing the rest of the cooled pies, for quicker access when the dessert orders came in. He had nearly finished this task when Maddie whisked in, flicking a now-empty tray casually over his head to rest on the counter beside him.

"Remus dear! Lyra just told me you've accepted our invitation to Christmas!" She bustled up beside him, moving slices of pie onto the tray. "We're so glad! It's always so quiet, just the three of us; it'll be perfectly lovely to have real company! And just wait until you try my special Christmas cake!" And then she was gone with the desserts.

Remus again found himself staring at the door. He almost went after Maddie, to force her to stand still long enough for him to explain that he was not coming, but instead he sighed. He leaned against the counter, gathering his stamina for the night ahead. In the back of his mind, a small voice asked what he was going to get Lyra for Christmas.

Remus walked down Main Street, fighting off desperation. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and he had yet to finish picking out gifts for the Doyles. Truth be told, he had only started that afternoon, but now it was past dark and he still could not decide what to get for Lyra. He was unused to having such difficulty picking out Christmas or birthday presents; he had always known just what to get the guys, and even Lily and Christina when they joined the group. But it was becoming clear just how very little he knew Lyra, for all that they talked nearly every day. Maddie's gift, a small vial of perfume, and Ian's, a banner that chanted the names of the Dublin Dragons players and had a moving mascot, were easy to pick out. But Remus had been through all the stores without anything striking him as particularly Lyra-ish. Admittedly, there weren't all that many stores. He knew he could go to Diagon Alley and have much more variety, but… he wasn't ready. He hadn't been back there since moving to Wicklow, and he was in no hurry to go back. There was no reason to stir up the memories he had run away from. Sighing wearily, Remus turned into the Golden Goblet. Perhaps he would have better luck after a supper break.

Lyra bounded over with a butterbeer in hand moments after Remus sat down at his usual table. "Hello! Are you excited for Saturday? Mum is so glad to be having company." She grinned, "Come to it, so am I. I love my parents and all, but spending time with only them gets boring." Switching subjects abruptly, she asked, "So you want soup or a sandwich tonight? Mum's barley stew is the special tonight."

"I'll take that." Remus watched her bounce away, smiling to himself. He wondered at Lyra's ability to be so cheerful all the time. Even when she was complaining about something, she managed to do it cheerfully, half laughing at herself. He gazed out at the passersby, smiling and chatting with each other as they hauled their packages about.

"What are you looking at?" Lyra set his soup down.

"Just people-watching."

"Oh, 'cause you looked like you just lost your pet kitten or something. Anyway," Lyra leaned over the table toward him, "so what did you get me for Christmas?"

He raised an eyebrow. "It would ruin the surprise if I told you now."

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "That's man-code for you haven't picked anything out yet." She straightened up. "Well, you better get a move on, scholar. Remember, one PM sharp on Saturday."

Remus ate his dinner, left a handful of Sickles on the table, and ventured back out into the cold. He was wandering slowly past shops he had already been in, beginning to think he might just go back to the bookstore and get A Photographic History of Magical Institutions after all, when a sign nailed to the post office bulletin board caught his eye. It was hand-painted and read Homemade Candles! Make great gifts! Open daily 7-7! An arrow pointed down a side street. Intrigued, Remus followed it for a block or two and came across what looked like a home, but the sign on the gate proclaimed it "Kira's Candles." He went up the walk and pushed open the door, entering a room filled with shelves and tables, haphazardly grouped, all crowded with candles of various molds, sizes, and colors. No one else seemed to be in the shop.

He moved slowly among the displays, finally stopping in front of some tie-dye colored candles. The colors swirled gracefully in curlicues and loop-de-loops throughout the wax, far surpassing what any Muggle artist would be capable of. One of the candles was lit and gave off the most amazing aroma. Remus could pick out several distinct threads of scent: paper and ink, Mrs. Potter's double-chocolate cake, the spring breeze as it blew across the lake to the Marauders' beech tree.

"The aroma is unique to each person. It smells like the things they love best," said a voice behind him.

Remus jumped, nearly knocking the table over. He turned around and found himself facing a woman of perhaps thirty. He glanced back at the candles. "Interesting. Do you use Amortentia in the wax?"

The woman smiled. "You know your potions, sir."

Remus smiled at that. At least I picked up a few facts from knowing Lily so long, even if I can't brew a potion to save my life.

She continued, "I use a small amount, mixed with other potions and variations. The exact recipe is, of course, a secret." She held out her hand. "I'm Kira."

"Remus Lupin," he replied, shaking it, "So how much are these?"

"The small ones are fifteen Sickles, the medium ones two Galleons, and the largest ones five. All candles come with a box and, as our Christmas special, free gift-wrapping."

Remus considered for a moment. It was a perfect gift for Lyra; the candle would adjust itself to suit her preferences. It was also practical. The only thing was that the small ones would only burn for 35 hours, which was almost nothing. The medium ones would burn for 75 hours, but were a little more expensive than he had budgeted. He weighed the options in his mind, thinking that he could probably stretch his supply of pain potion over the next two moons and save some money that way. He picked up a medium-sized candle. "I'll take this one."

"An excellent choice. Is this going to someone special?" Kira asked as they walked toward the counter.

For no apparent reason, Remus found himself flushing, and was glad he was walking behind the shopkeeper. "Just a friend. She's one of my co-workers."

"Well, she'll certainly enjoy this." Kira slid the candle into a box, twirled her wand so that it deftly wrapped itself in wreath-patterned paper, and handed it over. She accepted the two gold coins Remus handed her. "Have a very happy Christmas, sir."

"Thanks. You as well." Remus took his package and left the shop. He made his solitary way back to his flat as clusters of chattering shoppers swirled around him.

As the library was closed on Christmas Day, Remus allowed himself to sleep in later than normal. Once he'd risen and showered, he had his typical toast and tea, then edited some of his notes, adding his own commentary and cross-references, until 12:45, when he fastened his cloak on and gathered up his parcels. As he stepped in the frozen street, he wondered again how the Doyle women had talked him into this. As instructed, he let himself into the tavern through the unlocked alley door. One of the surest signs that Wicklow had not seen war the way England had was that people still trusted each other enough to leave their doors unlocked and their houses un-Warded. For the first time, Remus headed up the stairs that led to the family's private flat and knocked on the door at the top. There was a squeal from the other side and it was pulled open a moment later.

"REMUS!" Lyra grabbed his arm. "Come on, inside! Which of those is mine?" She gestured to the packages in his arms.

"Remind me how old you are," Remus teased at the same moment that Maddie scolded, "Lyra, don't be rude."

Remus joined the family in front of the fire and gifts were exchanged. Maddie had made him a scarf, Ian had put a bow on a bottle of wine from the tavern's cellar, and Lyra had bought him a dictatable quill.

"So your hands don't get callused from all that note-taking, scholar," she explained.

Soon after, Maddie disappeared into the kitchen (the private one, not the big one downstairs). Everyone else chatted and listened to Christmas songs on the radio until they were beckoned into the kitchen to help with the meal preparations. The bantering continued as they each worked on the tasks they had been appointed. Soon, they were moving steaming dishes to the dining room table. Ian disappeared downstairs for a few moments and returned just as they were sitting down with two uncorked bottles of wine.

"What's your poison, Remus?" Ian asked, "The girls like their traditional elderberry, but I'm partial to the French blackberry."

Remus smiled. "I'll have to stick with the ladies on this one."

"Suit yourself." Ian poured him a glass, then served his family and himself.

Maddie said the grace and soon they were all tucking in to her delicious food. Conversation flowed easily, harmless small talk drifting around the table. Ian talked at length about the Dragons' Quidditch record for the season and which of its players would make the all-Ireland team being prepared for the next World Cup. Lyra peppered him with questions about his research. Maddie kept trying to force third and fourth helpings onto his plate.

"Honestly, dear, you're thin as a rail! I don't think you eat at home," she chided, "And a bit pale today, too. You're not coming down with that dreadful cold again, are you?"

"I'm trying to ward it off," Remus said, smoothly dodging the topic and distracting Maddie by allowing her to put another slice of ham on his plate. The truth was that this December was a "blue moon" month, meaning that there were two full moons. The month had opened with one, and the second was in a few days, on the 30th. Unfortunately, that was a Thursday and meant missing two days of work. Allowing Maddie to think he was heading toward a relapse of his "cold" would provide a good cover-up. Remus sighed inwardly. He hated blue moon months. He involuntarily recalled the last one, which had been the March that Lily was pregnant. Hormones on high, she'd fussed over him even worse than Maddie was now, and the guys had been there for both of the moons…

"Dessert!" Maddie announced, standing and disappearing into the kitchen.

Remus came gladly out of his reverie and back into the present. Two types of pie and Maddie's Christmas cake floated gently down onto the table, guided by her wand. Somehow, a new chasm opened in Remus' stomach, allowing room for another course. They lingered at the table, sipping wine and talking, well after their dessert plates held only crumbs. Thus far, they had avoided any talk of Remus' life before Wicklow. Until—

"So, Remus, what did you do back in England?" Ian asked, pouring himself more wine.

Though his relaxed posture did not change, Remus' mind jumped into alert mode. This was not an acceptable topic, and had to be steered away from. "Oh, nothing exciting. I was a clerk in a bookshop, until Professor Dumbledore wrote me about this project and sent me here. How about you, Ian? Always been a tavern-owner, or are there thrilling tales in your past?" There, that'll keep us occupied and off my life, Remus congratulated himself.

But Ian ignored his employee's question. "And how 'bout the war? Did you fight any Desh— Death— Eatershh?"

This time Remus did stiffen slightly, unable to control himself. He had heard the slur of Ian's words and surreptitiously eyed the bottle of French blackberry wine in front of him, noticing for the first time that it was nearly empty, although only Ian had been drinking that kind. Softly, Remus said, "That was a job for the ministry, not shop clerks." True enough, and all anyone needed to know.

"But were you ever in a bashle— battle? Did you know anyone in the resis-shtance groupshsss? Resis-shtance fightershss were alwaysh shhhowing up," Ian persisted.

"Darling, Remus doesn't want think back on the war now, and especially not on Christmas," Maddie said, firmly and more loudly than usual, her sharp eyes not missing the young man's discomfort with the subject, "No one does." There was warning in the last part. She stood, waving her wand so that the plates and bottles of wine rose into the air, drifting to the kitchen.

"Hey, I washna finished wish that!" Ian made a grab for the floating wine bottle, but missed.

"I think we are all tired after this lovely meal, and we must open at the normal time tomorrow morning," Maddie said with determined cheerfulness, "Remus, thank you so much for joining us today; it was wonderful to have you, dear. But I don't doubt you have other places do visit yet tonight, and we don't want to keep you."

Remus didn't, but he got the message. His eyes flicked to his boss for the briefest moment before he lied, "Yes, I do. I should be on my way. Thank you all for everything; your food was superb as always, Maddie."

"Lyra, show Remus to the door, won't you? Then come back here and help me— clean up," Maddie ordered.

Lyra rose and led Remus into the next room silently. She opened the door to the stairs and he stepped onto the landing, then turned to face her. She was looking at the floor. He said, "Thank you for my quill. Thank your parents again for inviting me; I had a delightful time."

Lyra didn't look up. Softly, she said, "I'm sorry. He's not like that, usually. Just— a holiday, you know… he didn't pay attention to how much—"

"Hey," Remus cut her off and touched her hand a moment. She looked up at him. He quickly withdrew his hand, but said, "Don't worry, it's fine. I'm not offended or anything; I lived in a dorm with three other boys for seven years, remember? We weren't perfect saints all the time." Understatement of the century. "I really did have a delightful time; you have no idea how boring my holiday would have been without your invitation."

Lyra smiled finally. Remus could read the relief in her eyes. They bid each other goodnight and he made his way down into the tavern kitchen, then let himself into the alley. Walking back to his flat alone along the empty streets, seeing the lamplight spilling from homes full of families, Remus' thoughts lighted briefly on his last Christmas with the Marauders. For a moment, longing twisted inside him. Then Lyra's eyes as she opened his gift to her came into his mind, and her unintentionally awkward comment of, "I'll use it in the bath!" He recalled the flush of her cheeks as he and her parents laughed. The memory made him chuckle again. He forgot Christmases past and blue moons for the rest of the night.

A/N: Memberoftheliterati would like her readers to know that she has been struck with a case of writer's block, due to an overexposure to real life. She and her imagination are working to get over this illness, and the completion of this chapter is a promising step forward, Memberoftheliterati thinks. She is sure that reviews would also be beneficial to her recovery. However, she can make no promises that there will not be a relapse, and thanks her readers for their patience.