Work Text:
December 25, 1978
“Moony. PSSTTTT! Moony!” a voice loudly whispered in Remus’s ear.
He flailed a little bit, entangled in his blankets.
“Pads? What? Where? Ugh.” He rubbed at his face with the hand he managed to extract. “What the bloody time is it?”
“It’s half six.”
“… And you thought this was an appropriate time to wake me up, why?”
“Because it’s Christmas!” After a small pop, a large black dog jumped on his bed.
After a fair amount of cursing and a lot of licking (“Now I have to shower, why’d you lick my hair?”), Sirius leapt off the bed.
“Come on! I’ve got something wicked in mind for this morning.”
Remus winced and tried to quell the blush that spread over his face. ‘He didn’t mean it like that, he didn’t mean it like that, why are you thinking like that…’
“Come on! We’re gonna have breakfast over with Prongs and Evans.”
“… Now?”
“Yeah!”
“Do you have a death wish?”
“Don’t be daft! I’m not going to wake them up. Besides, Evans hasn’t actually put hexes on the fireplace. She just threatened to.”
“You’re going first.”
“Sure, whatever.”
7:34 a.m.
“I still hate you,” Lily stated, shovelling French toast into her mouth. She was wrapped tightly in her comforter.
James grunted in agreement. He licked his plate clean.
“Well since we’re up, might as well open presents.” Remus said, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
“Brilliant idea!” Sirius scampered off to the fireplace. “Moony, Floo back to our flat at eight. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“But Pads, we usually open stockings first!”
Too late, Sirius already disappeared into the fireplace.
Remus tugged the quilt further around him and slumped over to the sofa.
“Aren’t you lucky, a surprise from Padfoot. I can only imagine what that’ll be.” James looked both excited and wary. Surprises from Marauders could really go either way.
“Is that my quilt?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
8:00 a.m.
“Padfoot? Is it safe to come out?” Remus stepped out of the fireplace slowly.
There was a note on the ground in front of him.
‘A whistle, a whirl, a boil: this will reward your toil’
“What the—” Remus glanced around once more for Sirius, but the Animagus was strangely absent, or at least suspiciously quiet. “A whistle… boil… the kettle?”
He shuffled into the kitchen, hissing at the cold tiles. On the stove was a shiny, obnoxiously red kettle. It was already on, and just as he moved to turn the stove off, the kettle began to whistle. Not just a normal whistle though, oh no. It was whistling ‘Anarchy in the UK’ by Sex Pistols. One of his favourite songs.
Remus laughed as he turned the stove off.
There was another note next to the oven.
‘Over, around, and under: This will wrap your plunder’
“Padfoot, wherever you’re hiding, your rhyming skills are a sight to behold.” Remus shuffled off to the hall closet, where he’d stuffed the remaining tape, and left over wrapping things.
A pair of warm looking slippers greeted him. He stuffed his cold feet into them immediately, trying not to grin like a complete idiot.
There was yet another note taped to the inside of the door.
‘Ink, thick, and a distinct rectangular shape: For times when the real world you wish to escape’
Remus frowned, he had an inkling of what it was, but as for the where…
After having no luck in the living room bookshelf, he went into his bedroom.
The newest Stephen King novel sat on his shelf, a bow gently set on top.
Resisting the urge to open it and start devouring the pages, he instead turned to the next interesting rhyming clue.
‘Fluffy, cute, and black: For times where it’s me you lack’
Remus followed his hunch and stepped into Sirius’s room. He burst out laughing at the sight. There was a rather large stuffed black dog sitting on his bed.
“Padfoot, you’re ridiculous!” he picked up the stuffed animal, carrying it with him under the quilt. He picked up the latest poem.
‘Now, it’s your last present,
It’s a little more expensive than the last,
So don’t be mad.
Just ask Evans about the extent
Of our toils, and her sass:
For being my flat mate, my best friend, and an all around spectacular lad.’
‘Where on Earth is this one?’ Remus pondered, making his way back into the living room. A hot cup of tea was waiting for him on the coffee table, and his final present sat on the sofa.
The quilt slipped off his shoulders. His stuffed Snuffles was gently set down on Sirius’s chair.
He slowly made his way over to the sofa, sat down, and gingerly picked up the present.
It was a brief case. Simple, elegant, smelling of fresh leather. On the case was the engraving ‘Professor R. J. Lupin’.
Remus took a big gulp of tea, in order to use the excuse of burning his mouth to explain the tears that formed.
“Do you like it?”
Remus slowly looked over at Sirius, who had taken off James’s invisibility cloak, and was sitting next to the Christmas tree.
“Sirius, I—”
“I know, it’s all a bit over the top, eh? Evans tried to tell me that too, but I just couldn’t stop myself from buying you presents. It’s like, everywhere I turned, there was something you’d like.”
“Trying to buy my happiness?”
“Something like that.”
“You do know that the likelihood I’ll actually be able to use this case is very slim.”
“Sod off! You’ll get to use it, don’t you worry. You’re too smart not to.”
“If you say so.” Remus sniffed, because it was cold, not because he shed a few tears or anything. “You know I can’t afford to pay you back.”
“Nonsense! Your friendship is worth far more than that briefcase. You know that. Did you open it yet?”
Sirius joined him on the sofa like an excited puppy.
Remus undid the buckles and opened it. He burst out laughing.
Inside was a hefty supply of chocolate, pens, and paper. However, on the paper, there were various titles, such as ‘Things to do for Valentines Day’, and ‘Things to do for Easter’.
“What? I need you to write down muggle things we can do! Why are you laughing so hard?”
“Never mind. Happy Christmas, Sirius.”
“Happy Christmas, Remus. Can I open my presents now?”
“Sure thing, Padfoot.”