Christmas at Hogwarts in nineteen-seventy-seven, was a reasonably quiet affair. The vast majority of pupils had taken the train home, but there were a few who’d decided to stay, most notably the Head Boy and Girl, who had both decided that it was the responsible thing to do, despite the lack of pupils to supervise. Once the Head Boy had decided to remain, then his friends obviously had to stay with him.
“We can’t leave you here by yourself,” said Sirius Black to a less-than-pleased James Potter.
“Uh ... well, actually, Padfoot, I’d really rather you did. You could always stay with Moony’s parents, or Wormy’s mum. It’ll be very boring here. Lil ... uh ... Evans and I have all this dull Head stuff to do...” He trailed off when he saw a girl with bright red hair walk into the common room, who was studiously avoiding his eye.
Sirius raised one eyebrow and, with a ghost of a wink to Remus and Peter, pulled a hurt face. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me around anymore, Prongs.”
“Uh ... well ... no it’s really ... uh ... nothing like that,” James mumbled.
“Potter!” called Lily as she walked towards the group. “Aren’t we supposed to be going over rotas?”
James stood up quickly, sending Peter’s set of Gobstones flying. “Yep, I’m on it,” he replied, obviously pleased to be getting out of this awkward conversation. “See how it is, lads. I’m just going to be too tied up with all this boring Head Boy stuff. It might be better if you all went to Peter’s instead.”
“If he thinks I’m leaving Hogwarts to spend Christmas with Mrs Pettigrew sending us to bed at ten o’clock every night with cocoa, then he’s more love struck than I thought,” grumbled Sirius in undertone to Remus.
“We don’t need him,” Remus agreed. “We’ve got the Map, the tunnels and Hogsmeade. Might as well make the most of our last Christmas at school.”
Madam Rosmerta had started working at the Three Broomsticks as soon as she’d left Hogwarts. She’d taken her O.W.L.s and done reasonably well, but she was never the brightest student and had always known she wouldn’t stay on for her N.E.W.T.s. After all, what was the point when her granddad needed her help in the pub? He’d brought her up after her mum had died, so it could be argued she owed him, but she’d never felt there was a debt. Despite the fact that she was rarely in bed before midnight, and spent all her time on her feet, she enjoyed the work. Of course, there were some obnoxious customers, especially those that assumed a young barmaid had to be offering more than just Butterbeer, but she’d been adept at Charms, and a well-aimed hex to the groin had sorted out more than one fly-by-night sorcerer.
“Shouldn’t you be changing into your robes and walking back to Hogwarts?” she called across to a pair of reprobates wearing Muggle clothes.
At their small table in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, Sirius and Remus looked up from their game of cards, glanced at each other, and shook their heads in unison as she swept up to wipe their table.
“You trying to get rid of us?” Sirius asked as he turned back to Remus. “Twist.” Remus turned a card. “Twist.” He turned another. “Oh shit!” He splayed his cards in front of them both. “Bloody hell, twenty-eight, that’s just not fair.”
“Why on earth would you ask for another card when you had eighteen?” Remus asked, perplexed. “In Vingt-et-Un the object of the game is to make twenty-one, Padfoot. Anything more and you’re bust.”
“I might have got a three,” Sirius explained. “You have to take risks if you want to win, Moony! You’re too cautious.”
“I take calculated risks,” Remus replied. “I’d already dealt you a three and myself a two, the odds you’d get anything under four were too high.”
Sirius leant back on his chair and smiled lopsidedly at Rosmerta. “What do you reckon, Rosy? The risk-taker or the stick-in-the-mud?”
“I reckon,” she replied, aiming her outstretched hand at his head, “that if you don’t stop calling me ‘Rosy’, then I’m going to bar you from my pub!” Despite her irritation, she couldn’t help feeling a glow of pride at the words, ‘my pub’. At twenty-one, Rosmerta was the youngest landlady in Hogsmeade, courtesy of her granddad’s will, of course, but it was still legal. Her name was above the door.
Ducking to avoid a second slap, Sirius tipped his chair back too far and crashed to the floor, bringing his and Remus’ drinks down on top of him.
“Smooth, Padfoot, really smooth,” Remus jeered. “Rosmerta, please may we have another round of drinks, seeing as Sirius has decided to wash his hair in Butterbeer?”
Rosmerta checked the pocket watch attached to her apron. It was old and scratched, having belonged to her grandfather, but still kept very good time. “Don’t you think you should be heading back, lads? It’s nearly nine.”
Sirius looked out of the window and into the gloom of the street. “Nah, we won’t be missed.”
“It’s Christmas Eve!” Rosmerta cried. “I thought you’d be itching to get to Hogwarts. Haven’t you got something big planned for tomorrow that you need to set into motion?” She laughed. “You made it snow in the Slytherin common room for three whole days last year. You must top that.”
“Not this year,” Remus said, looking Rosmerta straight in the eye. “We’ve decided to turn over a new leaf. Christmas is a time for sober reflection. We’re of age now, and both Sirius and I have decided we should mature.”
Rosmerta snorted. “And I’m a Kneazle!” She picked up the now empty Butterbeer bottles. “What’s the real story? And where are the others?”
Sitting back in his chair, Sirius pulled a face. “Peter’s gone home to his mum’s and James has betrayed us.”
“Betrayed you?”
“Mmm,” Sirius replied morosely. “He’s come over responsible. It’s all Evans’ fault.”
“Oh dear, has Sirius lost his playmate?” Rosmerta hid a smirk as she ruffled his hair before returning to the bar.
“Can we stay here, then?” Remus called. “We’ll duck out if any of the professors turn up.”
Rosmerta nodded. As long as they were spending money and not causing trouble, she never had any problems with two of her favourites hanging around.
“Your deal, Padfoot,” Remus said, and handed him the deck of cards to shuffle, adding patronisingly, “And remember aces can be one or eleven.”
“Ha-bloody-ha “ prepare to lose your shirt, Moony. My luck is about to change!”
“You could swallow a whole cauldron of Felix Felices and you’d still lose,” Remus retorted as he gathered up his cards. “You’re just ... Twist ... too... Twist ... reckless.” He slammed his cards down. “Bust. Damn it!”
“Spoke too soon,” Sirius crowed. “You’re going to be bloody cold walking back half-naked, Moony, me old mucker!”
Grumbling at Sirius’ cocky tone, Remus handed over two Bertie Bott’s beans, hoping that they were toe-jam flavour and not blackcurrant.
“Thanks, Merta,” Sirius muttered when she returned with their order.
“I’m warning you, Black. If you don’t stop ....”
Sirius grinned wickedly. “You don’t want to bar me, Rosy. Who else makes you laugh like I do?”
“Everyone’s a comedian with a few drinks inside them.” Her hand swept the bar, the gesture encompassing the revellers out for a couple of drinks, and the barflies virtually stuck to their seats. “The trick is to be original.”
Leaning over their table and towards Sirius, Rosmerta slowly licked her lower lip. Sirius’ eyes widened, his pupils dilating as she loomed in. He puckered his lips and closed his eyes in expectation of a long-desired kiss. Something touched his lips. It was small, hard and tasted of ...
“Urggghh! Beetroot!” Sirius exclaimed, spitting out the bean and opening his eyes. He saw Rosmerta, still standing over him, but now she was laughing.
“Playing for stakes you can’t afford, Siri!” she countered, and then, with a wink at Remus, Rosmerta sauntered back to the bar, swinging her hips and giving neither of them a backward glance.
Rosmerta was still laughing an hour later. Sirius had indeed beaten Remus in every subsequent game, and had decided, once he’d eaten all Remus’ stash, that he would have his shirt.
“It’s just a turn of phrase, Padfoot. I can’t walk back to school without my shirt. I’ll freeze,” Remus pleaded.
“Shirt “ now, or I’ll slip that Love Potion in your Pumpkin juice.”
“Not “” Remus’ eyes widened in horror. “I thought you were saving that for ...”
“Mmm,” Sirius interrupted. “Snivelly cracking onto McGonagall would be bloody funny, but I’d laugh just as hard if it were you.”
Ducking behind the table, Remus removed his shirt. He was never totally sure where Sirius would draw the line, and taking Love Potion antidotes every day would be bothersome. Besides, he could always wear his cloak home.
“Oi! Not in here!” Rosmerta called and threw a bar towel at him. “You’re scaring the customers.”
“Actually, Moony, I think you’ve pulled,” Sirius muttered. “In the opposite corner ... yeah ... could well be a Veela.”
Looking around, hoping against hope that Sirius was for once not pulling his wand, Remus caught the eye of a very striking woman. With her hooked nose and long fingernails alarmingly like talons, she could well have been a Veela, but not one transformed into a great beauty.
“Sirius, where’s my cloak?” Remus hissed. “Hand it over.”
However, Sirius, exuberant with far too much of the Christmas spirit, held the shirt and cloak away from Remus and darted out of the pub.
“Padfoot, you utter, utter bastard!” Remus yelled as he ran to the door, clutching the towel across his chest, but all he could hear was Sirius’ mocking laughter as he ran through the cobbled streets.
“Remus,” Rosmerta hissed, “put your robes on. I can always lend you a cloak.”
Shuffling back to his table, still holding the small towel, Remus blushed. “We didn’t bring our robes. We weren’t exactly planning on walking back through the grounds, so ...” He stopped talking as the bell on the door chimed. “Damn! It’s Professor Kettleburn. If he sees me, I’ll get a detention, even if it is Christmas.” He looked imploringly at Rosmerta.
“Go on. Scoot into the back room,” she said wearily. “Let me serve the customers and then I’ll find you some clothes.”
“Thank you so much,” Remus whispered. Ducking back behind the table, he crawled towards the back room. Rosmerta shook her head indulgently as she watched him. There were times when she couldn’t fathom why he hung around with Sirius and James. He generally ended up worse off for their tricks, but he accepted it all with good grace.
Then she stopped wondering because the professor was shouting for service. “Yes, yes, I’m coming now,” she called. After making sure Remus was safely out of sight, she sauntered back to bar, collecting glasses, not in a particular hurry to serve him.
Silvanus Kettleburn was an irascible wizard who, she’d been told, had mellowed since his early teaching days. Knowing what he was like after too many meads, Rosmerta could only imagine the terror he’d inspired in his students in the early days. She’d taken his class, thinking Care of Magical Creatures would be fun, but he’d scared her so much, she’d ached to drop it after the first lesson. He didn’t scare her now. Not now she had the power to ban him from the Three Broomsticks.
“Silvanus, what can I get you?”
He grunted something at her, which she took to mean mead as that’s all he ever drank, and reached to the top shelf to get the bottle.
“Why don’t you just Summon it, girl?” he growled irritably. He hated her calling him by his first name, which was largely why Rosmerta did it.
Why don’t you leave me to run my bar the way I want? she thought, fixing a smile on her face as she poured him a large glass.
“You seen any of the students in here this evening?” he inquired, fixing his beady beetle-black eyes on her.
She pretended to think. “Not this evening,” she replied calmly. “I didn’t think they were allowed into Hogsmeade on Christmas Eve.”
“They’re not.” He took a gulp of his mead. “But since when has that stopped Black and Potter.” He scowled as he looked around the room. “I could have sworn I saw Black darting behind Honeydukes. If that boy and his friends are anywhere in Hogsmeade, I’ll have them!”
“They’re not in here, Silvanus. Perhaps you should try the Hog’s Head,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint. It was close to ten o’clock; in half an hour she’d be shutting the pub. If he wouldn't go to Aberforth's, she could keep Professor Kettleburn here, then Remus could escape out of the back door.
“Right!” declared Kettleburn, slamming his glass on the bar. Rosmerta reached for the bottle again. “Not tonight, Rosmerta. I’m going to take another look around. Black must have had a reason to go to Honeydukes ...”
“They’ve all gone,” she called half an hour later as she walked through to the back room. She stopped talking and hid a grin for Remus was hiding behind her couch, and still covering himself rather inadequately with the bar towel. “Remus, I have seen a man’s chest before, I’m not going to faint.”
In spite of her words, he still looked flustered, so with a slight laugh, she turned her back. “I’ll go and get you a shirt ... just stay where you are.”
Returning a few minutes later, she threw a package at him. Remus was sitting on the armchair, now clutching a cushion. He grinned at her sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m putting you to a lot of trouble.”
She shrugged. “No trouble at all ... well, not yet. I should warn you, though, that Professor Kettleburn is on the warpath. He saw Sirius ducking behind Honeydukes and has gone to investigate.”
Remus groaned. “If he catches me, I’m done for.” He chewed his lip as he thought. “You don’t have an owl I could use to send a message to James, do you?”
“Sorry, I don’t send many letters these days, Remus. Only time is when I’m ordering stock, so I go to the post office. Kettleburn will give up and go home soon, so you can sneak back then. Meanwhile, why don’t you give me a hand clearing up, and we could have a drink afterwards?”
Remus smiled warmly, and she found herself noticing how his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. He wasn’t heart-meltingly good looking like Sirius, but he had a certain air of diffidence that she found quite endearing. Turning away, she scolded herself. Remus was seventeen; she was twenty-one and after her recent disappointment in love, she wasn’t sure she could face a repeat.
“What was that game you were playing?” she asked, and as she did, she looked over her shoulder where Remus was now changing. “Merlin! How did you get those scars?”
He flinched at the question, and held the shirt tight around him. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled. “Duelling scar ... we practise a lot. Sirius is too good for me.”
She narrowed her eyes but said nothing; it didn’t look like a curse scar “ more like claw marks, but who was she to disagree with his version of events?
“It’s nothing,” he repeated. Although he sounded quiet, there was an edge to his voice, so she took a step back.
“I’ll be in the bar,” she said slowly. “Join me when you’re ready.”
“I’ll go now,” he replied. “Don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“Remus, don’t be daft. Old Kettleburn is on the prowl. He nearly caught Sirius, and although I don’t think he’d get as much satisfaction putting you in detention, it would still make his Christmas extra special to have one of you in trouble.” She smiled at him. “Stay here for a while. He won’t stay out all night.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “As long as you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
After they’d levitated the chairs and wiped all the tables down, Rosmerta opened a bottle of Elf“ made wine. It wasn’t often these days that she had someone to drink with. It sounded like nonsense because she was the landlady, but the truth was she rarely drank with the clientele. Too many of them thought she was fair game, and there were always the chancers, who thought by chatting her up they could get their hands on the pub. Her granddad had warned her, and she had the example of her dad running off with a barmaid forever in her mind, so Rosmerta rarely took risks with love. When she did ... well, recent events had only proved Granddad had been right.
“Thank you for the shirt,” Remus said as he accepted a glass of the dark red wine. “It looks new, though. I haven’t just ruined someone’s present, have I?” He sounded hesitant and a faint blush seared his cheeks as if he felt embarrassed about the obviously male shirt in her possession.
“It’s supposed to be a present for someone,” she admitted. She lifted a glass to her lips and took a sip of the wine. The spicy, fruit taste danced on her tongue and she took another sip before continuing. “My ... boyfriend, I suppose you could call him. Although, I think he’s decided he’s an ex.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Not your fault,” she said. “He says he’s too busy to spend Christmas with me. In fact he’s always busy these days.” She smiled a touch sadly. “If you ever decide to finish with someone, Remus, do it quickly. There’s nothing worse than a lingering death.”
Discomforted, he wouldn’t look at her properly, muttering, “I’ve never been the one to end things.”
She took another drink and, noticing his glass was only half-full, topped it up. “You’re not at all like Sirius,” she said idly. “Perhaps I should be giving him the advice.”
Remus smiled wryly. “I think you’ll find Sirius is very unlike Sirius as well.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, and leant forward over the table, eager to catch every word. The wine on an empty stomach was making her feel very light-headed ... and reckless. She started noticing things she’d not seen before, like how Remus’ eyes were flecked with yellow, and in the firelight his hair seemed more chestnut than brown.
He shrugged. “Just that I’m not the only one who gets chucked by girls. Their general complaint is that he spends too much time with us.”
“And what’s their complaint with you, Remus?” she asked, a smile hovering on her lips. “I’m sure you’d make time for any girl. Sirius is as reckless with people as he is at cards. I get the feeling you’re far more cautious.” She laughed gently, and pushed her hand across the table.
He stared at her hand and she thought for a moment that he was going to touch his fingertips to hers, but instead he picked up his glass again and took a long drink.
“My problem,” he said, when he’d almost finished, “is that the girl in question discovers ...” He broke off.
“Discovers what?” she asked, still smiling across at him.
“Discovers that she really doesn’t like who I am,” he finished bitterly. “Can I have some more wine?”
She nodded absently, trying to puzzle out his words and it was several seconds before she realised that Remus was still talking.
“Sorry,” she said, “What did you say?”
“Nothing much,” he mumbled. “Just wondered where you were spending Christmas, or if you were opening up.”
Rosmerta topped up her glass. She didn’t want to think about Christmas Day. “I’m not opening up,” she said vaguely. “There’s never much custom as even the regulars remember they have families, so Aberforth and I usually come to some arrangement. This year Mundungus Fletcher can bugger off to The Hog’s Head.”
Silence hung in the air between them. Rosmerta prayed he wouldn’t press her further about tomorrow. The bleakness of her first Christmas without her granddad loomed large in front of her and she shook her hair forward over her face to hide the tears that were beginning to start in her eyes.
“Shall I clear away the glasses?” Remus asked gently.
And, looking up through her blur of tears, Rosmerta saw Remus staring at her, an expression of tenderness wrought on his face. Tossing her hair back, she Summoned another bottle. “Come on Remus. As I don’t have to work tomorrow, I think I shall have another drink. And I hate drinking alone.”
“You took your time,” Sirius muttered, when Remus finally got back to the dormitory. “Where have you been?”
“Hiding from Kettleburn,” Remus whispered. “He saw you ducking behind Honeydukes, so I couldn’t follow “ especially as I would have frozen to death.”
“Pfft, you could have cast a Warming Charm. I thought you were supposed to be resourceful,” Sirius replied. He yawned and was about to turn over when something caught his eye. “Where did you get that shirt from?”
“Rosmerta took pity on me,” Remus replied in a low voice. Then, catching a gleam of interest in Sirius’ eyes, he searched around for something to change the subject. “Why are we whispering? Prongs isn’t here.”
“Isn’t he?” Sirius sat up in bed and frowned. “He was snoring when I got in.”
Remus opened James’ trunk and rummaged around. “Cloak’s gone.”
Sirius felt under his pillow. “And the Map. He must have waited until I was asleep. I wonder where ....” He caught Remus’ eye; both started laughing.
“Lily Evans?” Remus suggested.
“He’s finally done it,” Sirius agreed. “Explains why he’s been so boring.”
Turning back to his bed, Remus hurriedly changed into his pyjamas but made an effort to drape the shirt over the chair.
“Rosmerta gave you a shirt then?” Sirius sounded amused, and although he wasn’t looking at him, Remus knew he was smirking. “Hope you gave her something in return, you old dog.”
“She leant it to me,” Remus corrected. “And I’m the wolf; you’re the dog.”
“So what did you do with the lovely Rosmerta?” Sirius had got out of bed now and was padding across the floor until he reached Remus’ bedside. He sat at the foot of the bed and wrapped himself in the borrowed cloak.
“We talked and drank rather a lot,” Remus replied. He stretched out under his blanket and nudged Sirius with his foot. “I’m tired, Padfoot. Go back to bed, will you?”
Sirius shook his head. “C’mon, Moony, I just want to know what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” Remus said defensively. “Why would it?”
“Uh ... ‘cause you’re a bloke, Rosmerta’s a good-looking bird and she doesn’t have lock-ins for just anyone.” He laughed, but then stopped abruptly. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t try anything?” he asked, incredulous when Remus nodded. “Merlin, do you know how many wizards here would hex their right bollock off to be in your position? Only the whole bloody school, including the professors.”
“Even Prongs?” replied Remus, trying to lighten the mood.
Sirius smiled. “Nah, I think he’s immune, but only cause he’s dazzled by Evans.” He got off the bed and started to walk back to his own side of the room, but as he took off the cloak, he inhaled deeply. “Her cloak, Remus, I recognise the scent. Merlin, given the chance, I’d go for it.”
“For crying out loud, Sirius, I’m not you!” Remus shouted, suddenly angry although he wasn’t quite sure why.
The door swung open before Sirius could respond, and Remus saw a smiling James emerge from his Invisibility Cloak. “You’re still awake,” he said, looking dreamy. “And you’re back, Moony. That’s great, really great.”
Ignoring James, Sirius stared at Remus. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s by herself, I’m not going to ... to ... force myself on her.”
“And you think I would?” Sirius spat furiously. “Great to know what a high opinion you have --”
“What’s going on?” James interrupted, standing between Sirius and Remus, who was now out of bed.
“That’s not what I meant,” Remus protested. He rubbed his hands over his face then through his hair. “We got on well, Padfoot. We had a laugh, but ...”
“Moony, have you got yourself a girlfriend?” James asked, his face wreathed in smiles.
“But what?” Sirius asked, still ignoring James.
“Uh, I am here, you know. What’s going on?”
“Shut up, Prongs!” they both said in unison.
Remus held Sirius’ gaze, and when he was sure there was no anger in his friend’s eyes, he smiled tentatively. “I’m not you, Padfoot. I’m not ...” he stumbled on the word, “whole.” He held his hands up, palms outward towards Sirius as if in surrender. “I’m really shattered and a bit drunk. Can we do this tomorrow?”
“It is tomorrow,” Sirius replied, his voice gentle now. “Merry Christmas, Moony.”
“Merry Christmas, Padfoot.”
“Uh, do I get some festive wishes?” asked James, in bewilderment as he looked from one to the other.
“You,” Sirius replied as he clambered into his bed, “have already had your Christmas gift.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, as a special treat, Moony and I are not going to interrogate you about your whereabouts tonight.” He winked at Remus. “We’ll save that for breakfast tomorrow.”
James tried to splutter a response about having a headache and going for a walk, but by that time, Remus and Sirius were laughing too much to listen.
“Merry Christmas, Evans!” Sirius yelled across the Great Hall as the three of them entered for breakfast. She was sitting with a girl from Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff first year. They appeared to be the only pupils who’d made it down for breakfast, and all were sitting at the Gryffindor table.
Lily rolled her eyes as they sat down, but to Remus it seemed exaggerated, as if this were a part she was playing.
“Crumpet, Prongs?” he asked innocently.
James glowered at him, then, turning to Lily, asked her very politely to pass the toast rack. As she leant forwards, a necklace slipped out from under her robe. Sirius held it between his thumb and forefinger.
“What an unusual charm,” he murmured.
As Remus saw Lily blushing, he too leant forwards and saw a miniature stag, hung on a silver chain around her neck.
“Wow,” breathed the Ravenclaw girl (who Remus thought was called Sylvia), “that is so beautiful. Is that from the boyfriend you were telling me about?”
“Er ... er ... er,” Lily stammered, blushing an even deeper shade of red.
“You have a boyfriend?” Sirius pointed the butter knife to his heart in mock despair. “And there was me thinking I was your one and only.” He sniffed dramatically. “Moony, Prongs, it’s no use; I can’t go on. Take me to the Tower and I’ll throw myself off the battlements.” Picking up Lily’s hand, he raised it to his lips. “Adieu, fair Lily. I trust you’ll remember me fondly when you’re snogging James.”
“I will, you loon!” Lily said, laughing. Then she stopped and bit her lip, suddenly aware of what she’d given away.
“HA! We knew it!” Sirius exploded. “Prongs has finally pulled.”
“Padfoot, shut up!” hissed James. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“I think you’ll find he’s embarrassing you,” Remus said and started laughing. He grabbed some toast and bacon and stood up. “C’mon Sirius, let’s leave them to it. We have other things to do.”
“Like what?” grumbled Sirius as they walked out into the Entrance Hall. “I was enjoying that. First time I’ve seen Lily’s face clash so badly with her hair.”
“Like cheering up Rosmerta,” Remus replied. He tugged on Sirius’ arm, pulling him away from the staircase towards Gryffindor Tower and down to the passage leading to the kitchens. “I was thinking about her last night. She’s by herself today, so why don’t we get some food together, and surprise her?” He glanced sideways at Sirius. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Thinking about her last night,” Sirius teased. “Are you sure you want me to come along?”
Remus pulled a face. “Don’t start. I thought I’d explained last night.”
“You burbled your usual crap about not being worthy ... or something, but ...” Sirius paused and placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder, “... Rosmerta’s cool, you know, and she likes you.”
“Why? Because she lent me a shirt? She’d have done that for anyone.”
“Nope, the cloak,” Sirius replied enigmatically. He chuckled slightly. “Remus, I didn’t have a cloak last Hogsmeade weekend and she lent me one so I wouldn’t get wet.”
“That’s what I said; she’d help anyone out.”
“She has a trunk full of cloaks. People leave them at the pub all the time. Rosmerta lent you her cloak. I could smell her perfume, and it’s fur-lined, Moony - expensive. Obviously, she’ll want it back ... so you’ll have to return it.”
Remus pursed his lips as he considered. “Come with me?”
Sirius shrugged. “Why not? Christmas dinner at the Three Broomsticks could be a lot of fun.”
“Lily, I need help!” exclaimed Remus as he staggered back to the common room, under the weight of a large basket of food.
Lily was sitting on the sofa cuddled up with James, having obviously decided that it was futile keeping up the charade.
“Eating all that,” she replied. “Sorry, Remus, I’m too full after breakfast.”
“What have you got there?” James asked, and spying the mince pies on top of the basket, he stretched out his hand.
Remus slapped it way. “Go to the kitchens and get your own. These are for Rosmerta.”
“Rosmerta?” James raised his eyebrows and removed his arm from Lily’s shoulders. “Why?”
“She ... er ... got me out of a jam last night, so I ... I mean, Padfoot and I thought it would be nice if we treated her to Christmas dinner. She’s by herself since her granddad died.”
“That’s a really lovely thought,” Lily said enthusiastically. “Caradoc’s not shown up again, then?”
“Caradoc?” Remus asked. “Who’s he?”
“Oh, you must remember him,” Lily said and her eyes were slightly dreamy. “Caradoc Dearborn, he was the Ravenclaw prefect when we were first years.”
“Quidditch captain,” James grunted. “Yeah, I remember him. Arrogant tosser.”
“And he’s seeing Rosmerta?”
“Um, well, not so you’d notice,” Lily replied. “You must remember Caradoc. He was always in the bar chatting her up. He stayed there for a while when her granddad was ill and used to help out sometimes.” She looked from James to Remus. “Wow, boys are really unobservant.”
“How come you were so observant?” James said archly. Remus exchanged a grin with Lily as both heard the note of jealousy in his voice.
She giggled, and gave James a peck on the cheek. “Once he was the other side of the bar, he spent less time chatting up Rosmerta and more time flirting with the customers.” She squeezed him on the knee and then turned back to Remus. “So what do you need my help with?”
“Uh ... well, Sirius and I are going to take this food to her, but we need a present as well. We just have no idea what. Sirius has got a bottle of Mermish Gin in his trunk.”
“Rosmerta’s probably got a few of those in her cellar,” Lily replied. “You need to be a bit more imaginative.”
“Chocolate?” James suggested.
“She’s a stones’ throw away from Honeydukes,” Lily said. She frowned slightly as she thought. “She does have rather lovely hair and never makes the most of it.” She stood up and ran towards the girls’ staircase. “Hold on; I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Lily, I can’t give her shampoo...” Remus called but she wasn’t listening. “She’ll think I think she has greasy hair or something.”
“Why does it matter what she thinks?” James asked curiously. He narrowed his eyes. “Is this where you were last night?”
Remus nodded then, as James started to press him, he gave him an abridged version of everything that had happened the night before “ including Sirius running off with his shirt and cloak, and Kettleburn’s appearance.
“Here we are!” Lily announced as she walked into the room. She was carrying a dress. It wasn’t a particularly nice dress, and Remus couldn’t help wondering why on earth she’d bought it. Although made of silk, it was burgundy in colour and voluminous in size with lace on the cuffs and a bow at the back.
“That’s um ... nice,” offered Remus, trying to disguise his horror. “But do you think it’s quite Rosmerta?”
“Of course not!” Lily declared loftily. “This dress is hideous. But it is a lovely colour if you don’t have red hair and freckles.” She giggled. “I thought we could make ribbons.”
“Uh, Lily,” said James. “Why did you buy this dress if you don’t like anything about it?”
“It’s my sister’s,” she replied, as if that explained everything. “She handed it down to me with strict instructions that if I came to her engagement party, I should wear it and not any of my ‘weird’ clothes.”
“So you did actually wear this?” gaped James. “You poor thing.”
“Of course I didn’t, Potter!” Lily laughed, her eyes glinting mischievously. “I wore my best dress robes, attached some Dirigible plums to a belt, and entwined hellebore flowers in my hair.”
“And she was cool with that?”Remus asked curiously. She’d talked a little before about her sister when they’d patrolled together and he couldn’t believe Petunia Evans would have been happy to see Lily.
“Not at all,” Lily said a little sadly. Then she smiled. “My fault, but I can’t resist annoying her sometimes. Right, let’s set about this dress. Rosmerta has beautiful dark hair, and if we tear it to strips, and use some golden fairy yarn, she could have some spectacular ribbons.”
Impulsively, Remus kissed her on the cheek and avoided James’ punch. “You’re a lifesaver, Lily. Show me what to do.”
It had been Sirius’ idea to embroider the ribbons. When he’d joined them half an hour later, he’d proved surprisingly adept, using his wand to weave intricate designs. “It’s like a spider spinning a web,” he said softly. “I used to watch them in my old bedroom.” He gave a small, grim smile. “I spent a lot of time there.”
“Here!” he exclaimed and held up a ribbon with the names of James, Remus, Sirius and Lily emblazoned in gold thread.
“You’ve missed off Peter,” Remus commented.
“He’s not here,” Sirius replied. “Lily is, and I can’t get more than four names on.”
There was a silence. It struck Remus that he hadn’t missed Peter at all this year; everything had continued the same as ever. There were still four of them planning, only this time Lily was one of the four. He looked across at James, who shrugged slightly.
“How about I make this last one?” Lily said quietly as she pulled out a long strip of thread. “I’ll embroider all your names on it, except -- I know -- I’ll sew your nicknames!” She smiled at the three of them. “One day, I’ll work out what they all mean.”
Remus exchanged another look with James. “One day, Lily,” he replied. “We might just tell you.”
“We Three Wizards of Orient are
Bearing gifts we’ve travelled afar!”
“I’m not giving you another Knut!” Rosmerta shouted from the window of her sitting room. “Go back to your homes... OH, it’s you!”
Outside the back door of the Three Broomsticks, shivering in the frosty evening air, stood Sirius and Remus. Grinning from ear to ear, and holding a large basket, they waved to her.
“Special delivery for our favourite barmaid, Rosy,” Sirius called and winked at her.
“Landlady!” she cried, throwing a cushion at him, “and it’s Rosmerta!”
“May we come in?” Remus asked cordially. “We bear gifts from afar.”
“I thought there were three Wise Men,” she countered, but she was smiling, unbelievably pleased to see them.
“Just us two,” Remus replied. “And we’re not wise.”
“Obviously not Ravenclaws,” she replied, and waved her wand to open the door. “They’re intelligent enough to know that Kettleburn is out for blood.”
“Us Gryffindors are brave,” Sirius proclaimed, then, putting down the basket , he leant forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas!”
Rosmerta giggled but pushed him away when he bent down for another kiss. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said, and turned to Remus. “Do I get a Christmas kiss from you, as well?”
“Sure,” Remus muttered and very quickly brushed his lips against her other cheek. She touched her face with her hand and smiled at him.
“What is all this you’ve brought me?” she asked, turning her attention to the basket.
“Um, mince pies, brandy butter,” replied Sirius now helping himself to one. “And lots of chocolate éclairs, cause I like them.”
“A complete dinner, Rosmerta,” Remus put in, “courtesy of the Hogwarts house-elves.”
“For one?” she queried, noting the size of the basket.
“For three,” Sirius replied. “We deliberately ate very little for lunch, so we could enjoy this with you.”
“That’s okay, isn’t it?” Remus asked anxiously. “Only you said you weren’t opening up, so I thought ...” His face reddened as he stared at her.
Rosmerta reached across and planted a kiss on his cheek, lingering slightly before she pulled away. “This is lovely. The best present anyone could have got me.”
“We’re not done yet,” Sirius declared, and from under his cloak pulled out a brightly coloured package.
“Ribbons!” she breathed, and plunging her hands into the box she pulled them out, running them through her fingers and swirling them around. She gulped, unable to articulate her thoughts. For the past year, she’d had no fun. With Granddad gone, it was all up to her and the responsibility of running a pub day in day out had hit home hard. There was no time for fun, no time for love, even if Caradoc had been attentive.
“It’s not much,” Remus muttered, “but we really had no idea what to get you, and then Lily had this idea ...”
“This is wonderful. This is beautiful. It’s fun, frivolous and ...” Holding up her hands she threw the ribbons in the air, watching them cascade through the air. Then with both arms, she grabbed both Sirius and Remus in a fond embrace.
“I think the landlady is happy, Moony,” Sirius said, laughing. “Any chance of a drink?”
“Every chance,” she replied, grinning at him.
They giggled their way through dinner in her small sitting room. Rosmerta heated up the carefully prepared Christmas meal for three, and opened up a bottle of wine that she’d been saving for “ something special that she’d long since forgotten.
“To us!” Sirius toasted as they clinked glasses.
“To Rosmerta,” Remus murmured.
She smiled softly at him. “To interesting friendships and new beginnings,” she replied.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius eyeing her curiously, a slow lazy smile playing on his lips. Easy to catch, but hard to hold; she knew from observation that his boredom threshold was low. Reckless and restless, he’d changed so little from that eleven-year-old boy, who’d sat on a rickety stool and dared the Hat to think differently about a Black.
As she raised the wine glass to her lips, she studied Remus, his features soft in the candlelight, but as he turned to laugh with Sirius, she caught sight of a fading scar on his neck.
“Has Kettleburn been setting the Bowtruckles on you?” she asked, indicating his neck. Instantly, she knew she should have said nothing. He stiffened in his seat, and then after one long look at Sirius, he pulled back his chair as if to leave.
She caught his arm. “Sit down,” she muttered. “I’m sorry I said anything. It’s just that you’re covered in scratches and if that man’s using you as some kind of ...” She stopped talking. A strange notion was forming in her mind. The clues adding up through years of their acquaintance ...
Sirius laughed nervously. “It’s not Kettleburn. Remus is a bad dueller, and that particular scar is down to my superior wandwork, Rosmerta.”
“And now I know you’re lying, Black. You’ve never called me Rosmerta in your life. ”
“I was being polite,” Sirius protested. But she noticed he wouldn’t look her in the eye. Careless he may be, but he was never a good liar.
“I’m a werewolf.”
The soft tone in stark contrast to the words silenced Sirius and her utterly. Rosmerta could hear herself breathe, but the quiet in the room was palpable.
“I know,” she replied and reached her hand towards him.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me,” she said gently. “There have been rumours about a student. And some people talk late into the night.” She gripped his hand tighter. “Don’t worry; barmaids, like Healers, take whispered conversations to the grave. And I wasn’t sure it was you until today.”
“What gave me away?”
“The scars on your chest, your absence here on certain weekends over the years, your friends’ protectiveness.” She laughed. “Sounds strange, because I know how much they plague you at times, but they look out for you.”
“We look out for each other,” Sirius said firmly.
“Marauders ‘til we die,” agreed Remus softly. “Padfoot ...”
Sirius stared at him for a long while. Then, with a nod, he pushed back his chair and stood up. Remus stood, too, but leant forwards to pick up the plates.
“Where do you think you’re both going?”
Sirius said nothing, looking only at Remus.
“We should go,” Remus muttered. “Or rather I should go.”
Rosmerta took in the scene in front of her. Sirius hovering behind his chair, Remus stock-still one hand on her plate. “I’ll clear them later, Remus,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. He faltered and tried to shrug her off.
“If you’re set on leaving “ if you really do need to get back -- then I won’t stop you, but ...” Rosmerta’s smile encompassed both of them, but her eyes remained fixed on Remus. “I’d like you to stay.”
With a quick glance at Remus, Sirius slowly lowered himself into his chair. “If you’re sure,” he murmured.
“I’m having fun,” Rosmerta replied succinctly. “I’d almost forgotten what it was like. Come on, Remus. Sit back down and I’ll open another bottle.”
But without a word, Remus turned on his heel and walked away. She could hear him as he walked down the stairs, but stayed Sirius with her arm, as he got up to remonstrate. “Let me,” she muttered, and getting up, she walked purposefully out of the room.
He was outside when she caught up with him. Huddled in his cloak, walking disconsolately along the street, little caring that the world and his wife could see a student where he should not be.
“Remus,” she called, praying that he’d turn. He hesitated, but did not twist his head around, so she crept closer. “You have three very good friends, don’t you?”
He nodded, still without looking at her, so she placed one hand on his shoulder and pulled him around to face her. Then, standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, very softly and with infinite tenderness, on his lips. “I could be the fourth,” she whispered.
As he looked down at her, she saw his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “You’re very kind,” he mumbled.
“It’s not exactly a hardship,” she replied, and slipping her hands around his neck, she pulled him downwards for another kiss. He hesitated, seemingly intent on pulling away, but as she opened one eye, she saw him close both of his and respond.
“Merry Christmas, Remus,” she murmured, pulling away as she shivered in the cold night air. “How about we get back in the warm before Sirius eats all those chocolate éclairs?”
He smiled down at her then, in a move that surprised, he pulled her back towards him, enveloping her in his cloak.
“Merry Christmas, Rosmerta,” he whispered, touching his lips to hers. “Or I could warm you up and we stay out here for a while.” He grinned at her, showing her a glimpse of his lighter side, and she understood, right then, his value to Sirius and James. “I really can’t stand chocolate.”