Work Text:
December 20, 1978
4:01 p.m.
It was such an innocent comment.
“This is one of my favourite Christmas songs.” Remus commented offhandedly, waiting for the hot chocolate in his hand to cool. Although with the weather, it was certainly not going to take long.
Sirius stopped in front of the shop and listened.
“What are they saying? Something about rings? Oh, now there’s birds. Oh wait! Turtles? How are turtles Christmasy?”
“It’s five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree,” Remus recited perfectly, continuing along towards their flat. They were having James and Lily over that evening for dinner, and for once, Remus wanted to serve something that didn’t come from a carton. Well, not entirely anyways.
“Wait, what?” Sirius quickly fell in step. “Once more please.”
“Well, I have from five down memorized, but the six to twelve is a little dodgy.”
“There are twelve? … Twelve what exactly?”
“Twelve days of Christmas.”
“Oh.” A sip of hot chocolate was had. “Why’re there only twelve?”
“It’s just a song, Pads. Now, hurry up, we need to set this pasta started.”
“Give me two secs!”
Sirius vanished into the shop before Remus could say another word, or catch his scarf. Not necessarily in that order.
He reappeared so suddenly it was like he’d Apparated, his mouth set in a determined line. He held up a Christmas tape.
“Teach me the lyrics.”
“Bugger.”
4:39 p.m.
“Moony!”
“Yes, Padfoot?”
“Help me!”
“Are you still trying to figure out how to rewind the tape?”
“Yes! Don’t judge me! At Prongs’s, we just had to tap it with our wands. Your tape player doesn’t like tapping.”
“It has better sense than that.”
“Mooooonnnnnnnyyyyyyyyyyyy!”
Remus sighed, setting down the knife he was using to chop up the peppers.
“See this button?”
Sirius nodded.
“You press it. Then, when you want it to stop, press this square. Then, to play, press this arrow.”
“This arrow?”
“No, that skips ahead. This one.”
“Ohhhhhhhhh. Cheers mate!”
4:55 p.m.
“You know, if you gave me a partridge in a pear tree, I’d think you’ve gone mad.”
Remus’s knife slipped and nearly sliced off a very necessary finger.
‘He has no idea this is a list that a man is getting for his lover, he has no idea this is a list that a man is getting for his lover, he has no idea…’
5:02 p.m.
“Oi, Moony! What the bloody hell is number seven? I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“I told you, I only know one to five.”
“Five out of twelve isn’t even a pass. I would be tempted to give you a Poor, or possibly a Dreadful on your OWLS with that score.”
“… Play it again.”
5:09 p.m.
“On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me eight maids amusing—”
“Maids a milking! Not maids amusing! Bloody hell it’s bad enough I have to listen to this song over and over, but do you you have to butcher the lyrics so badly?”
“Well I’m sorry, who only knows five out of twelve? So really, whose fault is this?”
5:20 p.m.
“Why would lords leap?! My parents would die before being seen leaping!”
“It’s just a song Padfoot.”
5:38 p.m.
Silence finally reigned in the Black-Lupin flat.
“I would like to make an announcement.”
And there went the silence.
“I, Sirius Orion Black, have mastered the 12 Days of Christmas.”
“It’s about bloody time.”
“Sorry, what was that? Need help singing along to your favourite Christmas song?”
“Padfoot, if you mean to actually help me, then stop staring at the food, and set the table.”
“But I finally have the song memorized!”
“Padfoot.”
“Moony.”
“Sirius.”
“Remus.”
“James.”
The two turned to the fireplace, where James had just stepped out of.
“Oh sorry, I thought we were saying our names in an aggressive manner. I could try again, if you’d like. I’m sure I have a hidden animosity that I could rustle up.”
“Prongs! I’ve got to teach you the most brilliant song ever.”
“You’re both mad.” Lily stepped through the fireplace, giving Remus a kiss on the cheek. “This needs to be popped into the oven to warm up.”
She disappeared into the kitchen.
Remus watched James and Sirius crowd around the tape player. He shook his head with a small smile. It was then that he wondered if he was actually the mad one, falling for such a maddeningly strange, wonderful person.
He saw Lily pull the same smile at the pair.
Maybe they were both a little mad.
“On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, a partridge in a pear tree!”
“A partridge? Really? Muggles are mad.”