The Shoebox Project

Part Six: Christmas, 1975 Four Photographs, a Collection of Letters

Christmas, 1975 Four Photographs, a Collection of Letters, Four Christmas Puddings, and a Whole lot of Mistletoe

"Whatever are you doing, Sirius?"

It is Christmas, and the school is full to the brim of it: full of the rich green smell of pine in the hallways and the dining room, of the sparkle of golden lights in the garden and flitting about the classrooms, of the echo of notes in the vast towers as those students too merry to hold in their mood burst spontaneously into carols. Sirius is no less affected, and this, in addition to end-of-term giddiness, has sent him skipping through the halls, brandishing a sprig of mistletoe and a set of jingle bells, and leaving a trail of dizzy, giggling, flushed underclassmen girls in his wake. Remus stumbles on him in the midst of a particularly passionate interlude with a fourth-year Ravenclaw named Tansy. When Sirius sees him
over his partner's golden head, he gives the bells a final little shake and pulls away, dumping Tansy rather unceremoniously to the side. She gives a dazed, euphoric little hiccup and runs a shaking hand through her hair. Remus lifts an eyebrow.

"Oh, another victim," Sirius says happily, striding towards him and lifting up the mistletoe with a charming smile and an inviting shake of his bells. "Please? Just one little kiss? Jesus would want you to." Jingle jingle jingle.

"Blergh," says Remus with a shudder, and ducks out of range. "I won't let you tempt me into depravity and debauchery. Go away."

"Yes, all right," Sirius say, his cheer unflagging, and Remus could swear he actually skips away. Remus has never seen Sirius skip. He's never seen anyone in combat boots skip, come to think of it, and is vaguely impressed at the leg strength it probably requires.

Not one to feel like a grouchy Christmas stealer, Remus heads down soon after to the Great Hall, wary of the traps set in waylay. For anyone else, Christmastime means good cheer at every turn. For the students of Hogwarts, letting one's guard down means instant ambush by one of the many sprigs of mistletoe planted throughout the castle. Looking nervously above him, scanning the ceilings for any sign of the spiny green plant, Remus nearly falls over his feet three times on the stairs and twice more in the hallway before he reaches the
Great Hall.

The room is full of light and laughter, smelling of pine and cakes and sugar dusted cookies.

James and Peter are settled into their corner, and Remus heads in their direction, instead of allowing himself to watch Sirius' capers -- three girls pressed into the fireplace, looking like deer in the headlights more than willing participants in Sirius' yearly ploy.

"At least he's enjoying himself," James says at the expression on Remus' face.

"Oh, yes. He has the Christmas spirit in him," Peter agrees.

"It can only end in tragedy," Remus points out, settling down.

"Please tell me you're up to something that doesn't involve frolicsome revelries."

"Oh no," Peter says virtuously. "We've been doing schoolwork."

Remus steals a glance at James, who is gazing off into the middle distance with a glazed expression. He's seen that look before, a thousand times. It can only mean one thing. "By which, no doubt, you meant 'spying on Lily Evans?'"

Peter sighs. "Actually, I meant 'Watching people snog and laughing at them,' but only because she's been upstairs. Oops. Shouldn't have let that slip."James starts up with a bang, a purposeful expression on his face, and Remus and Peter
automatically put their hands on his arms and force him back down again.

"Let go!" James protests, struggling.

"Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"You can't force the magic of Christmas on everyone, you know," Remus says grimly, not giving an inch. "There might not even be any mistletoe over there."
James pauses at this, brain working out a quick solution, then exclaims, "I'll borrow Padfoot's!" and redoubles his escape efforts.