Family and Friends

“Christmas is a time for family,� Sirius observed to Peter. He sounded more than a little gloomy.

Peter scanned the families present – James tickling a distracted Lily, who seemed on the brink of hexing him; Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore, strictly business; the Bones children haring about squabbling over who would get the bell-shaped cookie, noteworthy entirely because it was the only one; Gideon and Fabian obviously dreaming up a prank to play on their cousin Caradoc. It was good of the Longbottoms to host a Christmas party that just coincidentally united the members of the Order, but the group simply had too many disparate elements for what Peter considered a proper party. “Or for a lot of families. Suddenly I’m glad not to have children.�

“They seem to be the in thing to do, though,� Sirius replied, gesturing toward Alice with her cup of herb tea, then toward Lily, who had just caused a gigantic fur-trimmed hat to appear on James’s head, blinding him and muffling his startled squawk. “Two more next summer, I hear. And it looks like Benjy has hopes.�

Dorcas had manoeuvred her way out from under the mistletoe just in time, leaving a startled Remus in her place. Benjy took a pass on the kiss after all. Peter giggled, and wished as always that he could manage a respectable, deeper laugh, maybe one like the bark Sirius made at Moony’s predicament. He tried not to think about Lily and the potential baby, the one he thought should have been his. James always got anything Peter wanted. Better to laugh at Moony and mistletoe, to have another helping of the eggnog that Mad-Eye sniffed so suspiciously, to joke with Sirius and ease someone else’s holiday glumness. “Have another drink. If you have enough firewhiskey, children start to be adorable.�

Sirius laughed again, mood apparently lightening. “They’re already adorable. Maybe they’d like to play with Padfoot for a while; what’dya think?�

“I think Padfoot wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d pull all his fur out, and then where would you be? And they certainly aren’t going to get Wormtail as a squeak toy.� As rats went, Peter could be reasonably friendly, but this mob frightened him a little. They seemed too rough and boisterous for a small animal of any sort – smaller than Hagrid, say, who had just scooped up three of them for a ride on his back. They whooped and giggled.

There was a loud pop and a cloud of smoke. Mad-Eye whirled, wand out. Caradoc emerged from the smoke redecorated, an angel sitting on his head, a garland of tinsel spiralling over his robes, and a small nutcracker doll dangling from the tip of his upturned nose. “Very funny,� he told the laughing Prewett brothers. “Are you trying to get me killed?�

Mad-Eye snorted. “I’m sharper than that. I can tell tinsel from a Dark wizard.� To prove it, he shot a lasso of the stuff from his wand, tying together Gideon and Fabian in red and gold festivity. “These two want cooling off, I’d say,� he added with a gruff wink. Caradoc joined in the merriment with a short avalanche of snow from his own wand.

“Not on my nice clean carpet!� Alice reprimanded, cleaning up the whole mess with a flick of her own wand. Peter envied her ease. All he and his dragon-heartstring wand seemed to be good for were curses. Those hardly went over well in this crowd. That envy reawakened his earlier mood, and he glanced again at Lily. James was quietly transfiguring a branch of the nearby Christmas tree into another mistletoe sprig that would be right over her head. Peter couldn’t have done that in a million years of trying.

No wonder James got the girl. There had to be some way to undo that, somehow.

And everyone, even the mercurial Sirius, seemed happy now. How they managed it, with a war on, escaped Peter completely. He was terrified out of his wits most of the time, it seemed, just carrying on from minute to minute. What sort of Gryffindor was he, anyway, to feel this mass of fear over his head at every instant? Even at a Christmas party?

A cold bolt shot down his back, and he mistook it for another helping of panic at first, then registered moisture with a yelp. “Sirius, I should…!�

Sirius grinned at him. “Ice cube for your thoughts?�

‘I’ll give you thoughts! And a helping of a piece of my mind, you mangy cur!�

“Ah, the top-quality musings of a born philosopher,� Sirius said with a sage headshake. “You looked far too pensive for a party. What were you thinking besides that I’m a low-down mongrel?�

“I was thinking – I was wondering how many of these people will be at next year’s party. If I’ll be one of them. If any of us will, besides Dumbledore, of course. I mean, we could all get wiped out right now. For all we know, You-Know-Who is about to barge in the door.�

“Or down the chimney? Come now, my quaking little rat, the place is warded better than that. There’d be all sorts of warnings and bells and so on. And Mad-Eye, of course. He’s not drowning in the ’nog. Besides, you know it takes more of what makes the bull a bull than Voldemort has to attack Dumbledore.�

That was probably true. Anyone standing right next to Dumbledore was safe enough for that moment. Still, Peter couldn’t relax. He’d been having such frightful thoughts lately, such awful impulses. There were so many things that should have been his, so many things the Order would never give him. It seemed to be the time of year for thinking about what was not going to be under the tree or at the foot of the bed. Peter’s Christmas list gave him a certain dark amusement: one helping of nerve, a box of power, and the girl, preferably gift-wrapped. Nobody here could give that to him. The girl was now kissing James, and the other things – well. Dumbledore was the most powerful person in the room, and as Headmaster of Hogwarts he’d presumably already done his best by Peter on those other two presents. For any more, Peter would have to look elsewhere. “Wait. Since when are you so delicate in your words, Padfoot?�

“Since, as you observed, there are children everywhere, and their mother is only a few feet away from us. Otherwise I might still expand their vocabularies. As it is, we’ll leave out all public discussions of…� He lowered his voice to a whisper and tickled Peter’s ear. “…the bullock’s bollocks.�

He’d gotten the desired effect; Peter couldn’t help but giggle again, even in the midst of his dark thoughts. “Thanks, Padfoot. I needed that.�

“You did. And you need that dose of firewhiskey you so generously prescribed me. To us!� It wasn’t a toast, yet, but a command to two glasses on a tray across the room. Peter would have had to Accio-ed like a schoolboy, and his resentment flared all over again.

He caught the glass and hid his resentment. “To Christmas!� he offered, raising the drink to his friend.

“To Christmas, and many more!� Sirius answered in challenge, and tossed back his whiskey with casual, aristocratic ease. Peter tried to do the same and spluttered with the flames. Through watering eyes, he scanned the rest of the room to see if anyone had witnessed his latest embarrassment.

Instead, everyone seemed to be watching Dumbledore and his brother. “All forgiven, then?� asked the Headmaster.

Aberforth had no talent for a friendly look, a perpetual crag of a man with a permanent scowl. “Guess,� he said, and it seemed an agreement. He looked uncertain, under that expression of an impending growl, but offered an arm. Peter blinked as the two brothers, different as could be, hugged each other amidst the suspended chaos of the party. Whatever the argument had been, however long it might have lasted, it seemed to be over. Peter considered the bartender with new respect. Personally, he would never have the nerve to argue with – even thinking the first name came hard. Albus. Arguing with Albus was for fearsome people like McGonagall.

“Now that’s sweet,� Sirius muttered, almost sounding sincere. Hagrid became a three-legged pony under the children to wipe at his eyes. Lily smiled, looking more beautiful than ever.

Peter felt a vague spirit of goodwill moving in him, and surrendered for the moment. If two craggy old men hugging each other could be said to look sweet, he supposed these two did. All bad feelings between them seemed to have vanished, at least for the moment. He wondered if the jagged nose of one had been broken by the other, and if so, over what, and if that was what the apology had been about, and realized that he would never, ever be able to ask. And at that, it really didn’t matter. “Hey, Sirius? Merry Christmas.�