The Last Horcrux

Christmas Eve At Spinners End

It was the morning of Christmas Eve and Remus was feeling frantic. There was simply too much to do. The boys were done with school and hanging about the house, bored, their pent up energy a palpable thing, like a demiguise under the sofa. Amanda was moping about, complaining that she had a stomach ache. Biscuit peed the rug. There was a rush of last minute orders for Mr. Moony's Magickal Mistletoe, always a popular item (it was "Magically enhanced for guaranteed romance," as the advert claimed). Which was good for business, except that he was short on owls and worried that he wouldn't get all the orders to the customers on time.

And, of course, through the rush and tumble of it all he was heavily pregnant, the baby moving restlessly inside him, pushing on his ribs, his bladder. He limited himself to one cup of tea in the morning, but he still had to pee every fifteen minutes. He was hungry, but when he stopped to eat, it felt as if there was no room inside him for the food. He felt unbalanced, his massive belly pulling him ever forward. His back ached, his ankles were swollen. Sev told him he was glorious, a miracle of nature. Well, Remus had never quite been able to understand the man's tastes. He felt like an aberration, a bloated rhino, a puffed up cream cake left too long in the sun.

Life however, with its many demands, must go on. Although Remus felt that all he wanted to do was curl up by the fire with a good book and a cup of tea, he persevered. In the morning he baked gingerbread men and set the boys to decorating them. He waddled out to the greenhouse, through the snowy garden, feeling awkward and heavy, and tended to the orders, packaging mistletoe and sending off owls. When he got back to the kitchen it looked as if a tornado had gone off. Frosting and sprinkles were everywhere. The decorated gingerbread biscuits sat on a tray, winking and waving. The boys were in the lounge, tussling with Biscuit. Remus ignored the mess for now and set the peeler to work on the potatoes with his wand. He was just putting the turkey in the oven when he heard a tinkle of broken glass.

"Moony?" Oakley stood at the kitchen door, looking chagrined. "Biscuit broked an normament."

"Let me see," said Remus, heading out to the lounge.

It was one of the silvery glass balls left over from Sev's childhood. They all looked at the slivers of broken glass, lying sadly on the threadbare carpet.

"It wasn't his fault," said Gavin defensively. "He's just a puppy."

"It's all right," said Remus. "I can fix it." He reached inside his robes for his wand.

"Let me try!" said Gavin.

"All right," said Remus, smiling at his enthusiasm. He handed Gavin his wand. "Give it a go."

Gavin looked startled, as though he hadn't really expected this. He held the wand tentatively between his fingers. "Hold it firmly," Remus instructed. "And concentrate. Try to visualize the object before it was broken. That helps. Do you remember the incantation?"

Gavin swallowed and nodded his head.

"Stand up nice and tall," Remus coached. "And say it like you mean it."

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, all sincerity and concentration, and Remus felt a swell of love. Oakley stood and watched, wide eyed. Gavin opened his eyes. He pointed Remus' wand at the shattered ornament. "Reparo!" he shouted.

They all watched as the shards mended themselves back together. Kind of. There were a couple of bits that were stuck on at odd angles, and a large crack down the middle where the pieces hadn't come together properly. It looked as if it had been glued back together, rather badly, by a Muggle.

"Well done," said Remus. "You did it."

Gavin grinned, and handed Remus back his wand. Remus wafted the ornament back onto the tree, where it shone and sparkled with imperfect beauty.