The Werewolf's Child

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve Remus took the dried fruits and nuts that he had soaked in brandy and mixed up a fruitcake. He sent Draco out for supplies and put a chicken, potatoes and sprouts in the oven to roast, seasoning them with salt and pepper and a tin of apricots he'd found on a back shelf. He mixed up a punch of fruit juice and soda water, found some Muggle Christmas music on the ancient radio in the kitchen, and settled in the parlor beside the fire and the glowing tree.

He stared at the flames, feeling strangely content. The baby had survived the moon, the womb a smooth reassuring bump beneath his fingertips. Sev had told him he planned to arrive late at Spinner's End for Christmas Eve, after the traditional staff gathering in the headmaster's office. Remus was looking forward to seeing him, and sharing with him the celebration he had made for them. He'd had lonelier and much sadder Christmases, he mused, as he sat, sipping his non-alcoholic punch. Draco entered the room and sat quietly on the sofa.

"Punch?" Remus offered.

Draco shook his head, and kept looking into the fire.

"Not much of a Christmas for you," Remus remarked.

"No," replied Draco, hoarsely. His voice sounded creaky, unused. "Not much." They both stared at the flames.

"I never cared much for Christmas," Draco said, into the silence. "Never much saw the point of it. It's just.....my mum....."

"She'll be missing you," said Remus gently. "Worrying over you."

Draco nodded glumly. "I hate it that she doesn't know.......that I made a choice. That I'm okay."

"It might be dangerous if she knew," said Remus gently. "Voldemort looks routinely into the minds of his followers."

"Snape knows," said Draco.

"Sev is a gifted occlumens. Most people can't ........protect their mind the way that he can."

"Lucky for you," remarked Draco.

"Yes it is."

"And for me too, I suppose," Draco added grudgingly.

"Yes," agreed Remus.

"I did make a choice, you know," said Draco. There was a sudden fierceness in his usually languid voice. "I left because I hate him, not because I was afraid."

"I figured as much," said Remus quietly.

"You......you did?"

"I can tell you're no coward, Draco," said Remus.

The fire crackled. In the kitchen, the radio switched to a new song.

"I'll have some of that punch, I guess," Draco said off handedly.

"It's just in the kitchen," Remus replied. Draco got up to get himself a glass.

He returned , glass in hand and sat back down on the sofa.

"There's an old deck of exploding snap cards in the cupboard," said Remus. "If you'd care to play."

                                                                                         ********

When Sev arrived at Spinner's End the kitchen smelled delightfully of the chicken, roasting in the oven and the freshly baked fruitcakes. The radio was playing a Muggle Christmas tune somewhat tinnily. From where he stood he could see into the parlour, where the little tree was twinkling bravely and he heard the soft slap of cards hitting the table.

The radio must have covered the sound of his entrance. Sev stowed his bag of gifts in an empty cupboard and stood in the darkened kitchen, taking it all in. He heard Remus and Draco's voices, soft and indistinct, in the parlour. How had he arrived here? he wondered. His life had been filled with darkness and loneliness, a loneliness that had become so habitual he had ceased to notice it. In the midst of war and Muggle killings and dementors on the streets, and fear, every moment of discovery and death, of pain and failure, how had he arrived in this kitchen, on Christmas Eve, fragrant with the smell of good things to eat, with a tree shining in the next room, and Remus, peacefully playing cards with Draco, waiting for him to arrive?