Fic: A Phoenix In a Pear Tree for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
remuslives23
Dec. 4th, 2009 12:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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small_giftsTitle: A Phoenix In A Pear Tree
Author:minnow_53
Recipient:remuslives23
Prompt: Five Times type fic depicting five Christmases the pups have spent together.
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: 4310
Summary: Five Christmas scenes, in which trees sing, wolves howl, Sirius is vain and everyone gets a happy ending.
Author's notes: Thanks towestwardlee for the beta.
Warnings: Um...some hints of twincest.
A Phoenix In A Pear Tree
Sirius’s first, completely unbidden, thought was that the whole ground area of the Lupins’ terrace house wasn’t that much bigger than his bedroom at home. He immediately felt ashamed especially when Remus looked at him tentatively, as if to say, ‘Is this all right?’
Remus’s mother was also something of a surprise. Sirius had gained the impression from Remus’s early tales about his monthly absences that she was a frail, sickly woman, possibly in a wheelchair.
He was taken aback when a large-boned blonde woman, taller than her son, greeted them at the door, opening it so abruptly that she dislodged the wreath of artificial holly. She was wearing a bright pink track suit and gave Remus a big hug and resounding kiss, from which he recoiled slightly, then pumped Sirius’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you! Remy talks about you all the time.’
‘It’s very kind of you to have me,’ Sirius said in his most deferential tones, and Mrs Lupin replied, ‘Couldn’t let a friend of Remy’s get boarhound flu!’ to which there wasn’t really a response, though Sirius said politely, ‘My brother’s a lot better now.’
Mrs Lupin ushered them through to what she called ‘the front room’, where a huge, unnaturally symmetrical tree in front of the window dwarfed the already small room and blocked out the light, though to be fair it was bedecked with so many flashing fairy lights that they went some way to restoring it.
‘Listen to this, Remy!’
The tree opened its branches wide and burst into song, carolling ‘On the first day of Christmas my wizard gave to me...a phoenix in a pear tree.’
Sirius, slightly shocked, couldn’t help wondering what his mother would have had to say about such a vulgar artefact. He glanced at Remus, who was staring fixedly at the tree and resolutely not meeting his eyes.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Mrs Lupin exclaimed. ‘I got it in that new Christmas shop in Diagon Alley. It’s the latest thing.’
‘Mum,’ Remus said, with a note of desperation in his voice, ‘can we put our cases away? Where are we sleeping?’
Sirius was afraid that he might have to sleep on the sofa underneath the singing tree, but his fears were unjustified. The tiny house apparently contained only two bedrooms, and Mrs Lupin said chirpily, ‘I thought you two boys could go in together. I mean, you’re used to sharing a room at school, aren’t you? Sirius can have the bed, and Remy can sleep on a blanket on the floor, can’t you, babe?’
It was lucky they were used to sharing more than a room, Sirius reflected, because he didn’t see much floor for Remus to sleep on. His bed took up half the room, the rest of which was crammed with a chest of drawers bearing an old-fashioned pitcher and ewer, and a small wardrobe. There was also a bookshelf tacked to the wall by a rather shoddy Permanent Sticking Spell; one corner was coming dangerously loose. ‘I put that up myself,’ Remus said proudly. ‘When I was twelve.’
They went downstairs, where Mrs Lupin was setting the table, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
‘This is my Dad,’ Remus said rather desultorily, and Sirius shook hands with Mr Lupin, a cadaverous man with a downturned mouth who really did look sickly. He had some indeterminate menial job at the Ministry, as far as Sirius could gather.
Dinner was eaten in the kitchen. Mrs Lupin used a Micro spell to heat up a family-size pizza from a packet with Wizardmart Basics in big letters, and divided it between the four of them.
‘No point stuffing ourselves just before Christmas,’ Mr Lupin said repressively, refusing another glass of water. ‘We’ll be eating enough then.’
Sirius hoped so. He wished he’d brought a supply of Honeydukes chocolate to tide him over, or even just a couple of Ice Mice.
Remus’s parents retired early, because Mr Lupin’s mysterious job entailed a six o’clock start, even on Christmas Eve. ‘He hardly ever gets a day off,’ Remus explained tonelessly when he and Sirius were alone in Remus’s room.
‘So,’ Sirius said, ‘we’d better get to bed too, then. ’
‘Seeing as there’s nothing else to do,’ Remus grumbled. He turned round and scowled at Sirius fiercely. ‘You really mind, don’t you?’
‘Mind what?’
‘Well... you’re not going to have the usual sort of Christmas, are you? I bet you don’t have a singing tree at home,’ Remus said, and Sirius thought of the majestic blue pine in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, and replied, ‘But I don’t have you either.’
Remus took no notice. ‘I wouldn’t blame you,’ he added bitterly, ‘if you don’t want to be friends with me after all, now you’ve seen what my family’s like.’
Sirius was astounded. ‘Listen, Remus, none of us can help what our families are like. If you knew about my father’s dodgy politics, you wouldn’t want to be friends with me either. Anyway, your parents are okay. ‘
‘They’re not so bad, I suppose,’ Remus said, but Sirius couldn’t fail to notice that his face was burning. ‘They mean well, anyway. I’m just a bit worried about what my mother might have got you for Christmas. You will pretend you like it, won’t you? I said chocolates or sweets, but she doesn’t always listen properly. Still, you can always Banish your presents later. That’s what I usually do.’
Sirius put an arm around him, and said, ‘If you don’t stop whining, I’m going to ask your mother if we can borrow that Christmas tree when we have our own place after school.’
Remus laughed. ‘You dare and I’ll never talk to you again.’
They undressed and cuddled together in the narrow bed. Sirius was uncomfortably aware that Remus’s parents were just across the hall, literally a step away, but that wasn’t going to stop him. ‘You know, I’d be quite happy to get expelled,’ he whispered, ‘for casting a Privacy Charm. But we’ll just have to manage without.’ He pulled Remus over to him, stilling his mouth with his own so he wouldn’t cry out, and afterwards Remus lay curled around him in a comforting, familiar way.
Through the thin walls, they could hear the tree downstairs as it burst into a spontaneous chorus of ’We Wish You a Merry Christmas...’
(1976)
*
The Journey Of The Animagi
There wasn’t a Christmas that year, not really. Remus left the Feast early, led by Madam Pomfrey, who was fussing even more than usual, and afterwards everything was a blur for a while.
But then he was standing in the frozen forest, his breath hot against the foggy winter sky, thousands of stars over his head. He felt right, somehow, in his warm pelt; he wanted to dance and sing in the moonlight. He opened his mouth and carolled to the moon.
The stag laughed, and said in his human voice, ‘I think Moony’s enjoying himself.’
‘He doesn’t half make a racket,’ grumbled the rat on his head.
He didn’t really like their voices, but before he could bare his teeth in a growl, the big dog started to scamper round and join in the song, howling a counterpoint as he tumbled in the snow. And then, the wolf wanted to laugh, because honestly, the dog was dreadfully off-key. He liked the dog, he really did.
They set off across the fields, the dog and wolf prancing in front, the stag stepping majestically behind. The rat was a bit of a nuisance, squeaking and complaining.
He loved the dog, he knew that. The dog was such fun, always ready to play. He was going to take the dog somewhere special, somewhere that beckoned him enticingly from the other end of Hogsmeade.
He said ‘Shhh’ in wolf language, the language that the dog understood, and led his three friends to a house on the outskirts of the village. It was brightly lit, and he could hear music coming out; not as fine as his own song, but soothing in a strange way.
In the back yard, there was a rubbish bin full of exciting goodies. The wolf was hungry; Remus had missed the best part of Christmas dinner, and he could have eaten a hippogriff, had one been available. He was sure there must be some leftover turkey in there. He sniffed delicately, and then tipped the bin over with his nose.
Its fall was muffled by the thick snow as its contents spilled interestingly over the ground. But there was no food in it at all, and at first the wolf was crestfallen, until he looked up and saw the dog running around with a big ribbon of silver tinsel.
‘I’ll fight you for it,’ he said, growling just a little bit, and the dog growled too. He caught hold of one end of the tinsel and pulled. The dog pulled back, and the tinsel snapped in two. The wolf caught hold of his half and ran round and round with it, dragging it through the snow. He thought the dog gave a very human laugh, or maybe it was just barking. He loved the sound; he loved it when the dog barked, or indeed when the dog simply breathed.
Someone shouted from an upstairs window, and the small pack of animals bolted, led by the stag this time, running away as fast as they could from the Christmas lights of Hogsmeade. When the dog starting nuzzling him, pushing him back to that place with walls where the nightmares happened, he was too tired too resist.
He woke up feeling momentarily naked without his pelt, aching but happy. The dog was there, and soon the dog also became human again. He was perfectly happy to kiss Sirius, even though he felt drained and there was a cut on his hand. ‘From the tinsel,’ Sirius explained, holding him close; and Remus thought that it probably hadn’t been such a bad Christmas after all
(1977)
*
Jingle Spells
Moody suggested it, Dumbledore decreed it, and Remus was apparently all too happy to go along with them.
‘It’s to protect you,’ he explained to Sirius. ‘Because you’re closest to the Potters, and if they have to go into hiding you’ll probably be their Secret Keeper.’
Sirius didn’t fully take it in. He was half asleep at the time, with Remus’s arms around him him, an unusually early night before he went on his last mission before Christmas. When Remus started spouting about Polyjuice, and becoming Sirius and how he’d be the perfect decoy for Voldemort’s men, Sirius yawned a bit. And when Remus added that he wondered whether he’d spend all his time staring into a mirror too, Sirius quietly slipped into a dream.
So he was shocked at first when he came home to the flat on Christmas Eve and opened the door to see his own face gazing back at him. For a moment, he wondered wildly whether Regulus had come to visit, before he remembered that Regulus was lost to him forever. But then, Sirius Two said reproachfully, ‘You’ve forgotten about the Polyjuice, haven’t you?’ which were indisputably Remus’s words, even if they came from Sirius’s own mouth.
Sirius studied himself carefully. So this was how other people saw him! He had to admit that his alter ego’s hair was definitely cleaner and glossier than his; hardly surprising, considering he’d spent five days in the wilds of Romania.
‘I’ve really missed you!’ the second Sirius said, in Sirius’s own impeccably-accented cut-glass voice. ‘How did it go?’
‘Okay,’ Sirius said absent-mindedly, still staring at the vision.
Remus smiled, Sirius’s slightly crooked, charming smile. He came forward and took Sirius in his arms, whereupon Sirius recoiled slightly, not wanting to embrace himself, and all too aware that he obviously found himself attractive.
‘We’re standing under the mistletoe,’ Sirius Two pointed out, putting his arms round Sirius and giving him an uncharacteristically strong hug.
Sirius closed his eyes and tried sternly to channel Remus; Remus’s light brown hair, soft, like feathers, and his solemn, pleasant face that lit up whenever he looked at Sirius. Remus, who was just that bit shorter, so they could never quite look directly at each other, or not when they were standing like this...
He opened his eyes and found himself gazing into an identical pair. The grey was rather fascinating, he had to admit. ‘And I have amazing lashes,’ he thought, surprised to see how thick and long they were. Remus had long lashes too, he defended himself. But Remus didn’t kiss the way Sirius was being kissed now, hard and assertively, with none of Remus’s occasional reticence.
Shit.
It was like kissing yourself, in the best possible way. Sirius was finally being snogged the way he’d always wanted to be, if he were honest, though it was a bit weird to taste his own mouth, a slight hint of cigarettes masked by mint, because Remus didn’t smoke; though obviously Polyjuiced Remus did. And he was now grinding into Sirius quite aggressively. Sirius thought, inconsequentially, that there was going to be a tussle deciding who would be on top.
The thought turned him on even more, though he tried, he really tried, to fantasise that he was being kissed shyly, sweetly, the way Remus kissed, and when they went to bed Remus would turn his back obediently, his vulnerable nape exposed. Usually, Sirius loved to nuzzle that neck, which made Remus squirm.
But not today. Today was the battle of the Titans. Today was Christmas come twelve hours early. Sirius groaned, and gave in, allowing Sirius Two to take his hand firmly and lead him to the bed.
He found himself being undressed, upended, suspended in the sort of position he was always begging Remus to try, only Remus never would. In the end, the second Sirius kept it simple if different, positioning real Sirius spread-eagled on the bed, and tying his wrists and ankles to the bedposts with large handkerchiefs that were, at least, recognisably Remus’s, white and starched and possibly even ironed. Only Remus would have four clean handkerchiefs, Sirius thought, amused.
Clean handkerchiefs or not, Remus, in Sirius’s flawless, pale skin, didn’t waste much time on preparation. ‘Fast but efficient,’ Sirius decided, as intrigued as he was aroused. Well, at least he was learning a few things about himself.
He was frustrated at first that he couldn’t reach out to stroke his hair, to touch his face, to allow his fingers to graze the beautiful high cheekbones as he gazed deeply into his own eyes that reflected him back so sweetly. But the more he struggled in his bonds, the harder Sirius Two thrust into him, and he soon ceased to care that he could look but not touch.
‘This is what it feels like for Remus,’ he thought; but of course, Remus had never, to his knowledge, been fucked by a virtual twin who knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it, who knew how to tease as well as please him. For a few happy moments Sirius fantasised that this was a real twin, his other half, the brother who should have been born with him but somehow never was. Next time, he would refuse to be tied up – and what a battle that would be! – so he could experience more fully Remus’s newly-found coordination, their perfect rhythm, the ecstasy of being in tune with a body identical to his own. He flexed his toes as far as he could to draw out every ounce of sensation, and imagined that he and his twin were murmuring mental instructions to each other; except he didn’t manage to last long enough to act on them, because he was melting under his own body, and couldn’t help emitting a long, low moan.
Nor could he help wondering just how much Polyjuice Remus was taking. Sirius had heard stories, whispered tales about wizards who never managed to return to their own shapes. He dismissed the tiny extra shiver of excitement at the images this produced, and kept his eyes closed when he felt Remus untying the handkerchiefs, then getting back into bed next to him.
‘Happy Christmas, Padfoot,’ Remus said softly.
Sirius’s heart leapt just a bit at the sound of his own voice, and he opened his eyes a crack. ‘Happy Christmas, Padfoot,’ he answered, and fell into a blissful sleep.
(1980)
*
Silent Night
It was snowing in Diagon Alley, but so packed with last-minute shoppers that it felt as warm as a spring day. Remus thought how happy everyone looked. Outside Gambol & Japes a group of young witches was laughing uncontrollably as one of them demonstrated the latest Sneakoscope, and he noticed that just about every face was wearing a smile. He couldn’t help smiling himself.
Remus had very little time off, and that didn’t include Christmas Eve; in fact, he’d called in sick this morning in order to have the chance to get a present for Sirius. Well, he often was sick, so why not lie about it for a change?
He already knew what he was going to buy, had had his eye on it for some time. Sirius was in the habit of losing socks, possibly because he always undressed carelessly, flinging his clothes all over the room, usually as a preliminary to flinging himself on Remus. Gladrags had recently started selling Sockfinders, which guaranteed every sock a partner, no matter where or when its twin had gone missing. They combined a built- in Summoning spell and some arcane charm that apparently reached as far as the land of lost socks and brought them safely home.
Of course, he’d have liked to get Sirius something besides a Sockfinder, a more personal present, but it was difficult to find presents for someone who either had everything he wanted or could afford to buy it for himself. These were uncertain times for Remus, and he had very little money to spare: so a Sockfinder it was.
He got home in mid-afternoon to their shared flat, where he wrapped the present carefully and put it under the tree. He just hoped Sirius wouldn’t be disappointed; but then, one of Sirius’s charms was his ability to be boundlessly gracious, whether he liked something or not.
Remus woke early on Christmas Day, bounding out of bed and calling ‘Happy Christmas, Padfoot!’
His voice echoed back to him. Going to the window he rubbed a hole in the condensation and looked down at the deserted street below. Probably Sirius had been kept on a mission – the bad guys didn’t relent just because it happened to be December twenty-fifth. He’d be home again soon, of course he would. He wasn’t going to miss Christmas! Nevertheless, Remus heaved a great sigh.
On Boxing Day, he took the parcel and put it carefully away in the cupboard, with the others: the book on astronomy he’d bought last year, the 1982 diary he’d bought for Sirius two years ago. And then, he went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea and a piece of toast. He washed up his plate and cup, leaving them on the draining board to dry, then went off to work.
(1983)
*
The Ghosts Of Christmas Present
They arrived in a flurry of snowflakes, and the castle looked warm and inviting, with a light blazing in every window and fairies flitting around the front steps.
‘Welcome back to Hogwarts!’ said Nearly-Headless Nick. He was on his best behaviour, almost obsequious, his head held firmly on his neck. ‘Just follow me, please.’
Every corner seemed to hold a memory: the alcove where he and Remus had shared their first kiss, the window where he used to look out for Remus returning with Madam Pomfrey on the day after the full moon... He supposed Remus must be remembering too, because there was a faint smile on his face.
As they passed the Great Hall, Sirius glanced in and saw the Christmas Feast was in full swing. Professor McGonagall was presiding over the table, her usually stern face relaxed and happy. Sirius noticed that Sibyll Trelawney, on her left, quivered as the three of them paused in the doorway, almost as if she could sense two interlopers.
The tea was to be held in a room next to the old Potions dungeon, a room Sirius had never seen before. But Remus had. ‘I used to have my Potions detentions there,’ he said, a bit sourly. ‘Slughorn liked to have someone sort out his ingredients for him. Lazy bugger.’
‘He looked lively enough at the Feast just now,’ Sirius pointed out, and Remus said, ‘Well, it’s easy for him to be lively! I’m surprised he’s still here.’
The room had been decorated ghost-style. A dying tree was shedding its remaining needles on the floor, the holly berries were shrivelled, and a wizened bunch of mistletoe hung forlornly from the ceiling. The table was set for six, and the Grey Lady sat at the head, pouring a rather nasty-looking brown liquid from a huge teapot.
‘Happy Christmas!’ she said, rising to extend her long, transparent hand. ‘You must call me Helena,’ she added, and Sirius thought she seemed far more approachable than she had during his time at school, when she epitomised the somewhat aloof nature of the Ravenclaws. The Bloody Baron was next to her, still grim, still bloodstained, but his pearly face glowed with an inner light.
‘This is actually their wedding party,’ Nick explained. ‘You see, Helena is no longer grey.’ And indeed, she was wearing a diaphanous but unmistakably white wedding dress.
‘We have you two to thank for this,’ Helena explained, and Sirius thought her cheeks flushed slightly pink. ‘That’s why we invited you. Rumours from the afterlife reach us too, sometimes! And I heard that you’re going to be together for eternity, and everything that went wrong during your time on earth has been righted. So I thought that we too could try to make something of our deaths.’ She turned to glance at the Bloody Baron, and her gaze lingered, as if she couldn’t bear to take her eyes off him.
‘I’ve spent a thousand years repenting,’ he said hoarsely. ‘A thousand years wasted! But after all this time, I can finally remedy at least one mistake.’ And he smiled at Helena, a slightly forced smile, but an affectionate one all the same.
‘Are you still going to be ghosts?’ Sirius asked, and the Baron looked angry for a moment, then shrugged. ‘It isn’t my choice,’ he said. ‘I have to stay here. But Helena has graciously agreed to stay with me.’
‘And quite right too,’ the Fat Friar chimed in. He was lolling in his seat, a rather goofy grin on his chubby face, and he raised a glass and said, ‘A toast to the bride and groom!’ Sirius noticed that nobody else had a glass, though the Fat Friar seemed rather drunk already.
‘Now our guests have arrived, you should cut the cake,’ Nick decreed, letting go of his head to hand Helena a rather blunt knife.
She held it poised over the three-tier wedding cake, which had obviously seen far better days; mould had turned the icing green, and Sirius hoped that he and Remus wouldn’t have to eat any of it. The sandwiches on the table also looked less than appetising, thin slices of white bread filled with very ancient cheese. However, some of them were packed more enticingly with slivers of turkey breast.
‘In your honour,’ Helena smiled. ‘As you can’t go to the mortal Feast, the Feast has come to you.’
The Fat Friar cried out, ‘Speeches before we eat! Come on, best man.’
Nick stood up and said, ‘Firstly, congratulations to our groom and his lovely bride. Better late than never, eh?’ He waited while the Fat Friar giggled obediently, then continued, ‘I also want to thank Mr Black and Mr Lupin for attending our party. On behalf of us all, I’d like to ask you to come and join us here at Hogwarts.’ And then he said wistfully, ‘Be like old times. You could bring Mr Potter too, perhaps. And what was his name? Pettigrew?’
‘Pettigrew’s gone to a different place,’ Sirius said. ‘And we’re perfectly happy as we are.’
‘We were happy here too,’ Remus said, and for a moment Sirius thought he wanted to accept. But then he took Sirius’s hand and squeezed it. ‘As long as we’re together, we’re happy wherever we are,’ he added firmly.
‘Perhaps,’ Nick said, ‘some Christmas music will persuade you. ’
His favourite cacophony of saws began; it now sounded surprisingly sweet to Sirius’s ears. The bridal couple got up to dance, Helena’s white dress shimmering in the dusk. Sirius found his foot tapping irresistibly, so he swept Remus into his arms and twirled him round the floor. It was a long time since they had danced together, not since they were at school, so young and naive and oblivious, hardly aware that boys shouldn’t dance with each other. Sirius smiled a bit, regretful for the past. Maybe if they took Nick up on his offer, they could relive such moments... But it was too late now, and too much of a risk.
When Helena and the Bloody Baron had left for their honeymoon in the Room of Requirement, Nick saw his guests off at the front door. It was dark, and the snow was falling so fast that Sirius could hardly see in front of him.
‘Come back soon,’ Nick called, but his voice was already fading as Remus and Sirius started on their way home.
(2009)
End
Author:
minnow_53Recipient:
remuslives23Prompt: Five Times type fic depicting five Christmases the pups have spent together.
Rating: PG-13/R
Word Count: 4310
Summary: Five Christmas scenes, in which trees sing, wolves howl, Sirius is vain and everyone gets a happy ending.
Author's notes: Thanks to
westwardlee for the beta.Warnings: Um...some hints of twincest.
A Phoenix In A Pear Tree
Sirius’s first, completely unbidden, thought was that the whole ground area of the Lupins’ terrace house wasn’t that much bigger than his bedroom at home. He immediately felt ashamed especially when Remus looked at him tentatively, as if to say, ‘Is this all right?’
Remus’s mother was also something of a surprise. Sirius had gained the impression from Remus’s early tales about his monthly absences that she was a frail, sickly woman, possibly in a wheelchair.
He was taken aback when a large-boned blonde woman, taller than her son, greeted them at the door, opening it so abruptly that she dislodged the wreath of artificial holly. She was wearing a bright pink track suit and gave Remus a big hug and resounding kiss, from which he recoiled slightly, then pumped Sirius’s hand. ‘Pleased to meet you! Remy talks about you all the time.’
‘It’s very kind of you to have me,’ Sirius said in his most deferential tones, and Mrs Lupin replied, ‘Couldn’t let a friend of Remy’s get boarhound flu!’ to which there wasn’t really a response, though Sirius said politely, ‘My brother’s a lot better now.’
Mrs Lupin ushered them through to what she called ‘the front room’, where a huge, unnaturally symmetrical tree in front of the window dwarfed the already small room and blocked out the light, though to be fair it was bedecked with so many flashing fairy lights that they went some way to restoring it.
‘Listen to this, Remy!’
The tree opened its branches wide and burst into song, carolling ‘On the first day of Christmas my wizard gave to me...a phoenix in a pear tree.’
Sirius, slightly shocked, couldn’t help wondering what his mother would have had to say about such a vulgar artefact. He glanced at Remus, who was staring fixedly at the tree and resolutely not meeting his eyes.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Mrs Lupin exclaimed. ‘I got it in that new Christmas shop in Diagon Alley. It’s the latest thing.’
‘Mum,’ Remus said, with a note of desperation in his voice, ‘can we put our cases away? Where are we sleeping?’
Sirius was afraid that he might have to sleep on the sofa underneath the singing tree, but his fears were unjustified. The tiny house apparently contained only two bedrooms, and Mrs Lupin said chirpily, ‘I thought you two boys could go in together. I mean, you’re used to sharing a room at school, aren’t you? Sirius can have the bed, and Remy can sleep on a blanket on the floor, can’t you, babe?’
It was lucky they were used to sharing more than a room, Sirius reflected, because he didn’t see much floor for Remus to sleep on. His bed took up half the room, the rest of which was crammed with a chest of drawers bearing an old-fashioned pitcher and ewer, and a small wardrobe. There was also a bookshelf tacked to the wall by a rather shoddy Permanent Sticking Spell; one corner was coming dangerously loose. ‘I put that up myself,’ Remus said proudly. ‘When I was twelve.’
They went downstairs, where Mrs Lupin was setting the table, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
‘This is my Dad,’ Remus said rather desultorily, and Sirius shook hands with Mr Lupin, a cadaverous man with a downturned mouth who really did look sickly. He had some indeterminate menial job at the Ministry, as far as Sirius could gather.
Dinner was eaten in the kitchen. Mrs Lupin used a Micro spell to heat up a family-size pizza from a packet with Wizardmart Basics in big letters, and divided it between the four of them.
‘No point stuffing ourselves just before Christmas,’ Mr Lupin said repressively, refusing another glass of water. ‘We’ll be eating enough then.’
Sirius hoped so. He wished he’d brought a supply of Honeydukes chocolate to tide him over, or even just a couple of Ice Mice.
Remus’s parents retired early, because Mr Lupin’s mysterious job entailed a six o’clock start, even on Christmas Eve. ‘He hardly ever gets a day off,’ Remus explained tonelessly when he and Sirius were alone in Remus’s room.
‘So,’ Sirius said, ‘we’d better get to bed too, then. ’
‘Seeing as there’s nothing else to do,’ Remus grumbled. He turned round and scowled at Sirius fiercely. ‘You really mind, don’t you?’
‘Mind what?’
‘Well... you’re not going to have the usual sort of Christmas, are you? I bet you don’t have a singing tree at home,’ Remus said, and Sirius thought of the majestic blue pine in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, and replied, ‘But I don’t have you either.’
Remus took no notice. ‘I wouldn’t blame you,’ he added bitterly, ‘if you don’t want to be friends with me after all, now you’ve seen what my family’s like.’
Sirius was astounded. ‘Listen, Remus, none of us can help what our families are like. If you knew about my father’s dodgy politics, you wouldn’t want to be friends with me either. Anyway, your parents are okay. ‘
‘They’re not so bad, I suppose,’ Remus said, but Sirius couldn’t fail to notice that his face was burning. ‘They mean well, anyway. I’m just a bit worried about what my mother might have got you for Christmas. You will pretend you like it, won’t you? I said chocolates or sweets, but she doesn’t always listen properly. Still, you can always Banish your presents later. That’s what I usually do.’
Sirius put an arm around him, and said, ‘If you don’t stop whining, I’m going to ask your mother if we can borrow that Christmas tree when we have our own place after school.’
Remus laughed. ‘You dare and I’ll never talk to you again.’
They undressed and cuddled together in the narrow bed. Sirius was uncomfortably aware that Remus’s parents were just across the hall, literally a step away, but that wasn’t going to stop him. ‘You know, I’d be quite happy to get expelled,’ he whispered, ‘for casting a Privacy Charm. But we’ll just have to manage without.’ He pulled Remus over to him, stilling his mouth with his own so he wouldn’t cry out, and afterwards Remus lay curled around him in a comforting, familiar way.
Through the thin walls, they could hear the tree downstairs as it burst into a spontaneous chorus of ’We Wish You a Merry Christmas...’
(1976)
*
The Journey Of The Animagi
There wasn’t a Christmas that year, not really. Remus left the Feast early, led by Madam Pomfrey, who was fussing even more than usual, and afterwards everything was a blur for a while.
But then he was standing in the frozen forest, his breath hot against the foggy winter sky, thousands of stars over his head. He felt right, somehow, in his warm pelt; he wanted to dance and sing in the moonlight. He opened his mouth and carolled to the moon.
The stag laughed, and said in his human voice, ‘I think Moony’s enjoying himself.’
‘He doesn’t half make a racket,’ grumbled the rat on his head.
He didn’t really like their voices, but before he could bare his teeth in a growl, the big dog started to scamper round and join in the song, howling a counterpoint as he tumbled in the snow. And then, the wolf wanted to laugh, because honestly, the dog was dreadfully off-key. He liked the dog, he really did.
They set off across the fields, the dog and wolf prancing in front, the stag stepping majestically behind. The rat was a bit of a nuisance, squeaking and complaining.
He loved the dog, he knew that. The dog was such fun, always ready to play. He was going to take the dog somewhere special, somewhere that beckoned him enticingly from the other end of Hogsmeade.
He said ‘Shhh’ in wolf language, the language that the dog understood, and led his three friends to a house on the outskirts of the village. It was brightly lit, and he could hear music coming out; not as fine as his own song, but soothing in a strange way.
In the back yard, there was a rubbish bin full of exciting goodies. The wolf was hungry; Remus had missed the best part of Christmas dinner, and he could have eaten a hippogriff, had one been available. He was sure there must be some leftover turkey in there. He sniffed delicately, and then tipped the bin over with his nose.
Its fall was muffled by the thick snow as its contents spilled interestingly over the ground. But there was no food in it at all, and at first the wolf was crestfallen, until he looked up and saw the dog running around with a big ribbon of silver tinsel.
‘I’ll fight you for it,’ he said, growling just a little bit, and the dog growled too. He caught hold of one end of the tinsel and pulled. The dog pulled back, and the tinsel snapped in two. The wolf caught hold of his half and ran round and round with it, dragging it through the snow. He thought the dog gave a very human laugh, or maybe it was just barking. He loved the sound; he loved it when the dog barked, or indeed when the dog simply breathed.
Someone shouted from an upstairs window, and the small pack of animals bolted, led by the stag this time, running away as fast as they could from the Christmas lights of Hogsmeade. When the dog starting nuzzling him, pushing him back to that place with walls where the nightmares happened, he was too tired too resist.
He woke up feeling momentarily naked without his pelt, aching but happy. The dog was there, and soon the dog also became human again. He was perfectly happy to kiss Sirius, even though he felt drained and there was a cut on his hand. ‘From the tinsel,’ Sirius explained, holding him close; and Remus thought that it probably hadn’t been such a bad Christmas after all
(1977)
*
Jingle Spells
Moody suggested it, Dumbledore decreed it, and Remus was apparently all too happy to go along with them.
‘It’s to protect you,’ he explained to Sirius. ‘Because you’re closest to the Potters, and if they have to go into hiding you’ll probably be their Secret Keeper.’
Sirius didn’t fully take it in. He was half asleep at the time, with Remus’s arms around him him, an unusually early night before he went on his last mission before Christmas. When Remus started spouting about Polyjuice, and becoming Sirius and how he’d be the perfect decoy for Voldemort’s men, Sirius yawned a bit. And when Remus added that he wondered whether he’d spend all his time staring into a mirror too, Sirius quietly slipped into a dream.
So he was shocked at first when he came home to the flat on Christmas Eve and opened the door to see his own face gazing back at him. For a moment, he wondered wildly whether Regulus had come to visit, before he remembered that Regulus was lost to him forever. But then, Sirius Two said reproachfully, ‘You’ve forgotten about the Polyjuice, haven’t you?’ which were indisputably Remus’s words, even if they came from Sirius’s own mouth.
Sirius studied himself carefully. So this was how other people saw him! He had to admit that his alter ego’s hair was definitely cleaner and glossier than his; hardly surprising, considering he’d spent five days in the wilds of Romania.
‘I’ve really missed you!’ the second Sirius said, in Sirius’s own impeccably-accented cut-glass voice. ‘How did it go?’
‘Okay,’ Sirius said absent-mindedly, still staring at the vision.
Remus smiled, Sirius’s slightly crooked, charming smile. He came forward and took Sirius in his arms, whereupon Sirius recoiled slightly, not wanting to embrace himself, and all too aware that he obviously found himself attractive.
‘We’re standing under the mistletoe,’ Sirius Two pointed out, putting his arms round Sirius and giving him an uncharacteristically strong hug.
Sirius closed his eyes and tried sternly to channel Remus; Remus’s light brown hair, soft, like feathers, and his solemn, pleasant face that lit up whenever he looked at Sirius. Remus, who was just that bit shorter, so they could never quite look directly at each other, or not when they were standing like this...
He opened his eyes and found himself gazing into an identical pair. The grey was rather fascinating, he had to admit. ‘And I have amazing lashes,’ he thought, surprised to see how thick and long they were. Remus had long lashes too, he defended himself. But Remus didn’t kiss the way Sirius was being kissed now, hard and assertively, with none of Remus’s occasional reticence.
Shit.
It was like kissing yourself, in the best possible way. Sirius was finally being snogged the way he’d always wanted to be, if he were honest, though it was a bit weird to taste his own mouth, a slight hint of cigarettes masked by mint, because Remus didn’t smoke; though obviously Polyjuiced Remus did. And he was now grinding into Sirius quite aggressively. Sirius thought, inconsequentially, that there was going to be a tussle deciding who would be on top.
The thought turned him on even more, though he tried, he really tried, to fantasise that he was being kissed shyly, sweetly, the way Remus kissed, and when they went to bed Remus would turn his back obediently, his vulnerable nape exposed. Usually, Sirius loved to nuzzle that neck, which made Remus squirm.
But not today. Today was the battle of the Titans. Today was Christmas come twelve hours early. Sirius groaned, and gave in, allowing Sirius Two to take his hand firmly and lead him to the bed.
He found himself being undressed, upended, suspended in the sort of position he was always begging Remus to try, only Remus never would. In the end, the second Sirius kept it simple if different, positioning real Sirius spread-eagled on the bed, and tying his wrists and ankles to the bedposts with large handkerchiefs that were, at least, recognisably Remus’s, white and starched and possibly even ironed. Only Remus would have four clean handkerchiefs, Sirius thought, amused.
Clean handkerchiefs or not, Remus, in Sirius’s flawless, pale skin, didn’t waste much time on preparation. ‘Fast but efficient,’ Sirius decided, as intrigued as he was aroused. Well, at least he was learning a few things about himself.
He was frustrated at first that he couldn’t reach out to stroke his hair, to touch his face, to allow his fingers to graze the beautiful high cheekbones as he gazed deeply into his own eyes that reflected him back so sweetly. But the more he struggled in his bonds, the harder Sirius Two thrust into him, and he soon ceased to care that he could look but not touch.
‘This is what it feels like for Remus,’ he thought; but of course, Remus had never, to his knowledge, been fucked by a virtual twin who knew exactly what he liked and how he liked it, who knew how to tease as well as please him. For a few happy moments Sirius fantasised that this was a real twin, his other half, the brother who should have been born with him but somehow never was. Next time, he would refuse to be tied up – and what a battle that would be! – so he could experience more fully Remus’s newly-found coordination, their perfect rhythm, the ecstasy of being in tune with a body identical to his own. He flexed his toes as far as he could to draw out every ounce of sensation, and imagined that he and his twin were murmuring mental instructions to each other; except he didn’t manage to last long enough to act on them, because he was melting under his own body, and couldn’t help emitting a long, low moan.
Nor could he help wondering just how much Polyjuice Remus was taking. Sirius had heard stories, whispered tales about wizards who never managed to return to their own shapes. He dismissed the tiny extra shiver of excitement at the images this produced, and kept his eyes closed when he felt Remus untying the handkerchiefs, then getting back into bed next to him.
‘Happy Christmas, Padfoot,’ Remus said softly.
Sirius’s heart leapt just a bit at the sound of his own voice, and he opened his eyes a crack. ‘Happy Christmas, Padfoot,’ he answered, and fell into a blissful sleep.
(1980)
*
Silent Night
It was snowing in Diagon Alley, but so packed with last-minute shoppers that it felt as warm as a spring day. Remus thought how happy everyone looked. Outside Gambol & Japes a group of young witches was laughing uncontrollably as one of them demonstrated the latest Sneakoscope, and he noticed that just about every face was wearing a smile. He couldn’t help smiling himself.
Remus had very little time off, and that didn’t include Christmas Eve; in fact, he’d called in sick this morning in order to have the chance to get a present for Sirius. Well, he often was sick, so why not lie about it for a change?
He already knew what he was going to buy, had had his eye on it for some time. Sirius was in the habit of losing socks, possibly because he always undressed carelessly, flinging his clothes all over the room, usually as a preliminary to flinging himself on Remus. Gladrags had recently started selling Sockfinders, which guaranteed every sock a partner, no matter where or when its twin had gone missing. They combined a built- in Summoning spell and some arcane charm that apparently reached as far as the land of lost socks and brought them safely home.
Of course, he’d have liked to get Sirius something besides a Sockfinder, a more personal present, but it was difficult to find presents for someone who either had everything he wanted or could afford to buy it for himself. These were uncertain times for Remus, and he had very little money to spare: so a Sockfinder it was.
He got home in mid-afternoon to their shared flat, where he wrapped the present carefully and put it under the tree. He just hoped Sirius wouldn’t be disappointed; but then, one of Sirius’s charms was his ability to be boundlessly gracious, whether he liked something or not.
Remus woke early on Christmas Day, bounding out of bed and calling ‘Happy Christmas, Padfoot!’
His voice echoed back to him. Going to the window he rubbed a hole in the condensation and looked down at the deserted street below. Probably Sirius had been kept on a mission – the bad guys didn’t relent just because it happened to be December twenty-fifth. He’d be home again soon, of course he would. He wasn’t going to miss Christmas! Nevertheless, Remus heaved a great sigh.
On Boxing Day, he took the parcel and put it carefully away in the cupboard, with the others: the book on astronomy he’d bought last year, the 1982 diary he’d bought for Sirius two years ago. And then, he went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea and a piece of toast. He washed up his plate and cup, leaving them on the draining board to dry, then went off to work.
(1983)
*
The Ghosts Of Christmas Present
They arrived in a flurry of snowflakes, and the castle looked warm and inviting, with a light blazing in every window and fairies flitting around the front steps.
‘Welcome back to Hogwarts!’ said Nearly-Headless Nick. He was on his best behaviour, almost obsequious, his head held firmly on his neck. ‘Just follow me, please.’
Every corner seemed to hold a memory: the alcove where he and Remus had shared their first kiss, the window where he used to look out for Remus returning with Madam Pomfrey on the day after the full moon... He supposed Remus must be remembering too, because there was a faint smile on his face.
As they passed the Great Hall, Sirius glanced in and saw the Christmas Feast was in full swing. Professor McGonagall was presiding over the table, her usually stern face relaxed and happy. Sirius noticed that Sibyll Trelawney, on her left, quivered as the three of them paused in the doorway, almost as if she could sense two interlopers.
The tea was to be held in a room next to the old Potions dungeon, a room Sirius had never seen before. But Remus had. ‘I used to have my Potions detentions there,’ he said, a bit sourly. ‘Slughorn liked to have someone sort out his ingredients for him. Lazy bugger.’
‘He looked lively enough at the Feast just now,’ Sirius pointed out, and Remus said, ‘Well, it’s easy for him to be lively! I’m surprised he’s still here.’
The room had been decorated ghost-style. A dying tree was shedding its remaining needles on the floor, the holly berries were shrivelled, and a wizened bunch of mistletoe hung forlornly from the ceiling. The table was set for six, and the Grey Lady sat at the head, pouring a rather nasty-looking brown liquid from a huge teapot.
‘Happy Christmas!’ she said, rising to extend her long, transparent hand. ‘You must call me Helena,’ she added, and Sirius thought she seemed far more approachable than she had during his time at school, when she epitomised the somewhat aloof nature of the Ravenclaws. The Bloody Baron was next to her, still grim, still bloodstained, but his pearly face glowed with an inner light.
‘This is actually their wedding party,’ Nick explained. ‘You see, Helena is no longer grey.’ And indeed, she was wearing a diaphanous but unmistakably white wedding dress.
‘We have you two to thank for this,’ Helena explained, and Sirius thought her cheeks flushed slightly pink. ‘That’s why we invited you. Rumours from the afterlife reach us too, sometimes! And I heard that you’re going to be together for eternity, and everything that went wrong during your time on earth has been righted. So I thought that we too could try to make something of our deaths.’ She turned to glance at the Bloody Baron, and her gaze lingered, as if she couldn’t bear to take her eyes off him.
‘I’ve spent a thousand years repenting,’ he said hoarsely. ‘A thousand years wasted! But after all this time, I can finally remedy at least one mistake.’ And he smiled at Helena, a slightly forced smile, but an affectionate one all the same.
‘Are you still going to be ghosts?’ Sirius asked, and the Baron looked angry for a moment, then shrugged. ‘It isn’t my choice,’ he said. ‘I have to stay here. But Helena has graciously agreed to stay with me.’
‘And quite right too,’ the Fat Friar chimed in. He was lolling in his seat, a rather goofy grin on his chubby face, and he raised a glass and said, ‘A toast to the bride and groom!’ Sirius noticed that nobody else had a glass, though the Fat Friar seemed rather drunk already.
‘Now our guests have arrived, you should cut the cake,’ Nick decreed, letting go of his head to hand Helena a rather blunt knife.
She held it poised over the three-tier wedding cake, which had obviously seen far better days; mould had turned the icing green, and Sirius hoped that he and Remus wouldn’t have to eat any of it. The sandwiches on the table also looked less than appetising, thin slices of white bread filled with very ancient cheese. However, some of them were packed more enticingly with slivers of turkey breast.
‘In your honour,’ Helena smiled. ‘As you can’t go to the mortal Feast, the Feast has come to you.’
The Fat Friar cried out, ‘Speeches before we eat! Come on, best man.’
Nick stood up and said, ‘Firstly, congratulations to our groom and his lovely bride. Better late than never, eh?’ He waited while the Fat Friar giggled obediently, then continued, ‘I also want to thank Mr Black and Mr Lupin for attending our party. On behalf of us all, I’d like to ask you to come and join us here at Hogwarts.’ And then he said wistfully, ‘Be like old times. You could bring Mr Potter too, perhaps. And what was his name? Pettigrew?’
‘Pettigrew’s gone to a different place,’ Sirius said. ‘And we’re perfectly happy as we are.’
‘We were happy here too,’ Remus said, and for a moment Sirius thought he wanted to accept. But then he took Sirius’s hand and squeezed it. ‘As long as we’re together, we’re happy wherever we are,’ he added firmly.
‘Perhaps,’ Nick said, ‘some Christmas music will persuade you. ’
His favourite cacophony of saws began; it now sounded surprisingly sweet to Sirius’s ears. The bridal couple got up to dance, Helena’s white dress shimmering in the dusk. Sirius found his foot tapping irresistibly, so he swept Remus into his arms and twirled him round the floor. It was a long time since they had danced together, not since they were at school, so young and naive and oblivious, hardly aware that boys shouldn’t dance with each other. Sirius smiled a bit, regretful for the past. Maybe if they took Nick up on his offer, they could relive such moments... But it was too late now, and too much of a risk.
When Helena and the Bloody Baron had left for their honeymoon in the Room of Requirement, Nick saw his guests off at the front door. It was dark, and the snow was falling so fast that Sirius could hardly see in front of him.
‘Come back soon,’ Nick called, but his voice was already fading as Remus and Sirius started on their way home.
(2009)
End
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Date: 2009-12-21 05:57 pm (UTC)The fourth had me in tears. At first I was thinking you'd gone AU, but then I realised, and oh - it broke my heart! *sobs*
And the fifth was...comforting. Still bittersweet at the memories of what could have been and what was - especially when they were dancing - but the past belongs in the past, and the notion of the two of them together for eternity, no matter where their spirits/souls were - that lightened my heart. :) And good for the Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron! Hee!
Quite the unexpected roller coaster ride, my dear! Beautiful storytelling as always, but damn you for making me cry! *smooches*
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Date: 2009-12-23 10:21 am (UTC)I'm sorry about the crying, though. :( But I promised a happy ending, and I hope I provided it. Even if Remus and Sirius had to be dead. I was happy that the Grey Lady and the Bloody Baron could salvage something as well.
Quite the unexpected roller coaster ride, my dear!
I'm glad! That was sort of the idea, once I HAD an idea, and I'm so glad it came across.
*smooches back* ♥
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Date: 2009-12-21 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 10:23 am (UTC)Yes, I think no. 3 should have an R rating, now I look at it again. What happened was I toned it down a lot so I could keep a PG-13, but possibly not quite enough.
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Date: 2009-12-21 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 09:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-21 08:39 pm (UTC)#1: Remus' parents were hilarious. The WizardMart Basics pizza? The singing tree? So beautifully, lovingly... erm.. trashy in a good way! And this: ‘It’s very kind of you to have me,’ Sirius said in his most deferential tones, and Mrs Lupin replied, ‘Couldn’t let a friend of Remy’s get boarhound flu!’ to which there wasn’t really a response, though Sirius said politely, ‘My brother’s a lot better now.’
#2: This was so beautiful - and so canine-appropriate. Eating out of bin would be my dog Malcolm's greatest wish. And you captured the essence of Moony so well: He loved the dog, he knew that. The dog was such fun, always ready to play. He was going to take the dog somewhere special, somewhere that beckoned him enticingly from the other end of Hogsmeade.
#3: From the kissing to the fantastic sex that was tasty! I've always been intrigued by the idea of Polyjuice Sex (I wrote it once, but not nearly as well) and the thoughts and ideas it might produce. The little bits of Regulus were bittersweet and I could not help but think that it was probably great fun for Remus in its own way. This bit made me laugh:
Remus smiled, Sirius’s slightly crooked, charming smile. He came forward and took Sirius in his arms, whereupon Sirius recoiled slightly, not wanting to embrace himself, and all too aware that he obviously found himself attractive.
#4: This was heartbreaking. Admittedly, I was unsure as to whether Sirius was really there or just in his mind, and that just made the section even better. Poor, darling Remus! However, I must admit that my husband would kill for a Sockfinder:Sockfinders, which guaranteed every sock a partner, no matter where or when its twin had gone missing. They combined a built- in Summoning spell and some arcane charm that apparently reached as far as the land of lost socks and brought them safely home. He swears I deliberately lose his socks... but I don't.
#5: Honestly, this was the most brilliant one of all: the undead Christmas wedding. What a beautiful thought, though, and you wrote the ghosts extremely well. It was lovely and sweet and somehow quite wistful. Yet it was not without humor: the three-tier wedding cake, which had obviously seen far better days; mould had turned the icing green, and Sirius hoped that he and Remus wouldn’t have to eat any of it. The sandwiches on the table also looked less than appetising, thin slices of white bread filled with very ancient cheese. However, some of them were packed more enticingly with slivers of turkey breast. What a perfect ending to a fantastic fic!
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Date: 2009-12-23 09:42 am (UTC)I had a lot of fun making Remus's family so trashy, as you say! Or chavvy. It's actually a universe I'd like to do a bit more in. :/
Eating out of bin would be my dog Malcolm's greatest wish.
Lol! :D This will sound a bit random, but I always specially like reading your entries about Malcolm, because that's my husband's name, so there's a sort of double enjoyment of them going on there. I often read them out to him as well, which I hope is okay.
I've always been intrigued by the idea of Polyjuice Sex (I wrote it once
Okay, I haven't seen that! Actually, I got the idea from my current obsession with the Irish twins, John & Edward, aka Jedward. I was wondering how to incorporate a twin theme into my fic, and this popped into my mind. Sort of laterally.
The undead wedding was a real shotgun one! I couldn't think of a fifth part: I tried lie low era, and Grimmauld, and nothing worked. And then this came to me suddenly, and I've never been so glad to have an idea in my life.
Thanks again for a really lovely comment. ♥
(no subject)
From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2009-12-23 04:53 pm (UTC) - Expand(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 09:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 12:52 am (UTC)*composes self*
This is exactly what I was hoping for when I wrote the prompt! I love the variety you brought to each Christmas, and the mix of happy, sad, embarrassing, sweet, hot, bittersweet and hopeful you brought to this piece.
1. God, I cringed at the vision you created of Remus' mum!! But I couldn't help but giggle a little at the tackiness of that Christmas Tree. Sirius was gorgeous, Remus was such a perfect teenaged boy who is constantly humiliated by his family (and I liked the little bit of sulky resentment/guilt about his father having to work so much). And typical teenagers, they couldn't keep their hands to themselves... *brings back fond memories*
2. This vignette was fabulous! I adore the antics of the Animagus (but am hopeless at writing it) so I flailed a little when I saw you'd done this. I love that you gave them voices, and that even as the wolf, Remus just knows how much he loves and trusts Sirius/Padfoot. Your writing is so wonderful that I can see the scenes playing out in my head, and the pups' antics with the tinsel made me grin like a loon!
3. I adore Sirius' narcissism, and this was just the perfect Christmas gift for him! I giggled all the way through listening to his thoughts. I'm laughing thinking about it now. :)
4. I thought for a moment that you'd skipped over the period after Sirius went to Azkaban then the last few lines and the date made me burst into tears. I love Remus' denial. It broke my heart that he continued to buy Sirius presents, and that a part of him truly expected Sirius to be there. God, I'm tearing up again...
5. This was so lovely and warm! I was expecting something from Grimmauld Place, but this was so much better! This was their happy ending and I love you more than already do for giving them (and me) that.
This was so fantastic, minnow! I was so excited when I saw you'd picked my prompt, and this went beyond my expectations. Thank you for such a thoughtful and wonderful gift.
*hugs*
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Date: 2009-12-23 09:51 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked the tree! It's the sort of Christmas horror that would go down really well in the town where I live -- they'd be queuing outside Wilkinson's for them. :D
The animagus one sort of wrote itself: the title appeared on the page, and then I went on from there. I always think it must be awful to be a werewolf with the full moon on Christmas Day. Or any day, obviously.
There can never be too many Siriuses! :D I know you like a bit of porn, so though I rarely do porn, I hoped this would be enough to fire your imagination at least! :)
As for 4, you did say you didn't mind if one of the vignettes was angsty, so I rather went to town there. Remus does sort of lend himself to angst, though, doesn't he? :( But you did get your happy ending!
Anyway, I'm just so delighted you liked it, and thanks again for the amazing comment. ♥
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Date: 2009-12-22 02:40 am (UTC)I think my favorite one may have been the second one though. It made me very happy. :-)
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Date: 2009-12-23 09:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 02:51 am (UTC)The first vignette is especially funny in contrast to the mother
I'm a complete sucker for the wolf's view of the world. Of course, the dog would be his favored companion. The one who could harmonize his songs and know the right games. I can vividly imagine they both would find delight in knocking over a nice trash bin.
But Sirius' falling for himself was priceless! And very hot!!!
4 & 5 were surprising but bittersweet and touching. I especially liked the happiness of the ghosts at the wedding feast. It was rather Miss Havisham but with a happy ending this time!
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Date: 2009-12-23 09:58 am (UTC)It was rather Miss Havisham but with a happy ending this time!
Yes, I thought of Miss Havisham with the cake: I seem to remember a ghostly cake with cobwebs in the film, but I may be thinking of something else. The Dickens connection led me to the title as well! :D But I managed to leave out Tiny Tim. Actually, this fic was very, very hard to get going, and in one variation I did have Harry as Tiny Tim. /randomness
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Date: 2009-12-22 07:57 am (UTC)But the last one was so sweet, it had me crying for a whole different reason. Of course their ghosts would be together in the after life! :) That's the only thing that held me together when Remus died.
So sweet, so beautiful, so amazing.
*adds to memories*
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Date: 2009-12-23 10:04 am (UTC)Of course their ghosts would be together in the after life!
Exactly! I wanted to show that clearly, though it took ages to think of how to do it. But it was good to imagine them drifting up through the snow, hand in hand...
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Date: 2009-12-22 08:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 12:00 pm (UTC)And Merry thawed Christmas!
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Date: 2009-12-23 10:08 am (UTC)Thank you so much for reading through! And for an absolutely lovely comment. :)
The thaw is very slow coming... :/ If we'd had all this snow a week later it would have been perfect. Anyway, I hope you'll have a lovely Christmas too. ♥
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Date: 2009-12-22 04:26 pm (UTC)I loved Sirius at the start and how he would never tell Remus anything bad about his house. And even though the food is meh and the decorations horrid and his mum calling Remus "Remy" *blech* they have each other and they snuggle and it's all that matters.
The second was so sweet the tinsel. It made me smile, it was so cute, he felt drained and there was a cut on his hand. ‘From the tinsel,’ Sirius explained, holding him close; *heart pitter patters* Though I have to admit when they went looking for food I thought about the werewolf eating something like a hippogriff and then it being in Remus's stomach the next morning and that it probably makes him feel a little sick. Sorry to get distracted by that thought in the middle of your brilliant fic but I'd never had it before.
The third was my favorite part mostly because I think no one thinks Sirius is sexier than Sirius. Such a narcissistic twat I loved it. LMAO!
Sirius’s own impeccably-accented cut-glass voice
I loved this bit of physical characterization. Since I don't know all the ins and outs of British accents I appreciate these little things. I can give a good guess what the voices should sound like but never the exactness. With that line I could hear perfect consonant pronunciation.
The fourth part was probably the most fucking sad thing I've ever read. Like midnitemaraud_r I was thinking AU for just a second but nope it really was that fucking sad. Luckily you saved yourself from the most depressing fic ever with a happy ending. HURRAY! I love them together forever and ever!
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Date: 2009-12-23 10:16 am (UTC)Though I have to admit when they went looking for food I thought about the werewolf eating something like a hippogriff and then it being in Remus's stomach the next morning
Lol! :D That is a vile thought. I was thinking more metaphorically, about eating horses and so on, but of course a wolf or werewolf probably would eat something huge and indigestible. *shudders*
Since I don't know all the ins and outs of British accents I appreciate these little things.
English accents are one of those complex subjects that requires years of study unless you're brought up with the nuances! And even if you are. :/
I love them together forever and ever!
So do I! And it seems like years since I've written them like that. It felt very, very good to have them together forever, just like they should be.
Thanks again for the lovely comment. ♥
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Date: 2009-12-23 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 10:26 am (UTC)I was just relieved I got it in before the twelve days of Christmas had actually gone by...
♥
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Date: 2009-12-23 04:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 08:38 pm (UTC)It's been ages since I gave R/S a truly happy ending, and I felt it was time to redress this.
Oh, and thank you very much for reading and commenting. :)
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Date: 2009-12-23 07:55 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-12-29 07:52 am (UTC)*squishes*
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Date: 2009-12-29 05:21 am (UTC)Sorry it's taken me so long to leave a comment--but if it helps, this is actually my third read through, and it gets better every time.
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Date: 2009-12-29 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-29 05:01 pm (UTC)Happy holidays Minnow!
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Date: 2009-12-30 04:04 pm (UTC)Happy holidays to you too, Mushroom! I hope you'll have a wonderful New Year. ♥
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Date: 2010-01-08 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2010-03-15 07:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2010-04-10 12:52 am (UTC)Loved it.
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Date: 2010-04-10 05:01 am (UTC)