Work Text:
December 21, 1978
2:03 p.m.
“So I was thinking—”
“Oh no.”
“Oi! It’s nothing bad, I swear!”
“I’ve heard that before. Look, I just walked in the door. Let me at least take my boots off, and get some tea. Then you can tell me your brilliant idea.”
Sirius handed him his tea before he had the chance to finish stripping off his outdoor wear.
“Cheers, Padfoot.”
Sirius followed him into the living room like a dog.
“Can I talk now?”
Remus took a sip. Perfect, as usual. “All right, what are we doing today?”
“Well, not necessarily today, but next week, kind of. I realized how well dinner went last night—”
“You spent two hours learning the lyrics to 12 Days of Christmas, and then ate my food.”
“Detail, Moony, details! So, that got me thinking, we should do some sort of dinner party! Those are super muggle, aren’t they?”
“Padfoot, yes, but—”
“Brilliant! I’ve invited a few people over for a New Year’s Party.”
“… How did you go from nice dinner party to New Year’s Party?”
“It was quite simple really, it started off as a Christmas Eve party, then I realized i wanted a quiet muggle Christmas Eve with you.” There was an awkward pause. “Er—and Wormy, and Prongs, and Evans, I suppose.”
“So obviously the next logical step was New Years.”
“Obviously. Remember the parties we used to throw back at Hogwarts?”
“I’ve spent several years trying to repress some of that. Thanks for making me recall them in horrifically vivid detail.”
“At least we never got alcohol involved at school.”
“There’s that, I suppose.” Remus finished off his tea, then realized something rather important. “Exactly how many are you cooking for?”
“We, Moony, how many are we cooking for, is what you should really be asking. And only about twenty people, no more than thirty.”
“Well, that does make everything better then, doesn’t it? And just what are you planning on serving all the guests?”
“Typical muggle dishes?”
“And what exactly does a typical muggle dish entail?”
“Erm, I was hoping you knew.”
“You do know that the most complicated thing I know how to make is pasta with meat sauce, right?”
“I wasn’t aware your culinary skills weren’t on par with your charming good looks.”
Remus made a valiant attempt to keep the blood from rising in his cheeks.
“While I appreciate the flattery, that doesn’t solve our current dilemma.”
“… We’re gonna have to do a practice dinner, aren’t we?”
“Most definitely.”
Sirius leapt up excitedly. “Perfect! I’ve already got everything we need in the kitchen.”
“You went to the supermarket without me?”
“Yes, sorry love, I know how much you love to ogle the meat counter.”
“Not as much as you like to ogle the girl on the other side. Now, do I have to obliviate anyone’s minds?”
Sirius looked incredibly confused. “Why on earth would I ogle the girl behind the meat counter? She’s an utter troll. And I’ll have you know, I took Sarah with me. She was rather excited to take me shopping. Says I remind her of her grandson. He’s all the way over in Ireland, so she doesn’t get to see him often.”
“Ah yes, because taking another muggle into a muggle setting is perfectly logical. Good job, Padfoot.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or serious.”
“Let’s just get started, all right?”
2:17 p.m.
“Merlin’s saggy bollacks.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“How the bloody hell are we supposed to cook this?” Remus gestured violently to the giant uncooked turkey in front of them.
“The hell if I know. I just pushed the cart while Sarah put things into it.”
“This thing weighs an entire stone! How do you cook a one stone bird?”
“With a very hot oven?”
“Wait right here, I’m calling my mum.”
2:45 p.m.
“I’m terribly sorry, come again? I have to do what now?”
“I’ve already made the stuffing, just put it inside the turkey.”
“I can’t put my hand in there. No. No. Do people actually do that?!”
“It’s a muggle thing, Padfoot. I thought you wanted to be muggle this Christmas.”
“Not that muggle!”
3:18 p.m.
“We’re what now?”
“Baking apple pie.”
“… from scratch?”
“Yeah! Sarah gave me a copy of her famous recipe.”
“How kind of her.” Remus really wanted to rub his temples, but he was still covered in turkey bits. “Do we really have to make this today?”
“Do you want to try this the day of? I mean, I’m perfectly fine with it, but I know you’re a bit more of a planner.”
Remus sighed. “Let me wash my hands first, could you turn on the tap for me—For Merlin’s sake! Put down the knife first, you’re going to kill someone.”
3:22 p.m.
“Did you just put baking soda, or baking powder in there?”
“They are both white, doesn’t that mean they’re basically the same ingredient?”
“Only when they’re both smudge on your face. When they’re in something, they’re a little different.”
“Oh, then, I have absolutely no idea. Can I start cutting the apples yet?”
“I get nervous when you hold sharp things. Wait, that didn’t mean start cutting! No, stop gesturing with it!”
And so, the first blood of the pre-New Years celebration dinner was shed.
4:31 p.m.
“Who knew pies take so long to make, eh, Moony?” Sirius grinned, throwing a flour covered arm around Remus’s shoulders.
He was too tired to do anything about it.
“What’s next?”
“Vegetables, cranberry sauce, and gravy.”
“That’s all? We’ll have that done in no time!”
6:09 p.m.
“Moooooonnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyy is the turkey done yet?”
“For the last time, no. Mum said at least five hours for it to fully cook. I will not have our guests getting salmonella poisoning.”
“But we’re just cooking for us now! Also, what is salmonella?”
“Just keep mashing those potatoes.”
6:31 p.m.
“Erm, Moony.”
“Oh no, what?”
“I swear I didn’t do much, but the turkey is on fire.”
“Bugger.”
7:37 p.m.
Remus was so tired, he was quite sure he was going to pass out at the kitchen table.
“Moony,” a gentle hand nudged his shoulder. “I got the pies from Evans. I think I may have put the wrong white powder in them.”
Remus cracked open one eye. “You certainly did. It’s my fault for not making us restart the dough. Sorry Pads.”
“Nonsense! Everything else turned out brilliantly, wouldn’t you say?”
The werewolf chuckled as he took in the disaster of a kitchen. It would take all day tomorrow to clean up.”
“Well, at least nothing caught on fire this time.”
“Well—”
“That doesn’t count, the flames didn’t escape the oven. I count that as a success. Plus, now I know we’re not going to die from salmonella.”
“That’s looking on the bright side! Now, how does one go about carving a turkey?”
Remus stared at Sirius with a sleepy smile. He had his hair up in a messy bun, was covered in flour, cranberry juice, holding a rather large knife while hovering over a crispy turkey.
Needless to say, he’d never looked better.
“Here, let me show you. I’ve seen my grandfather do this a lot.”