Carve Me Open / r.l. + s.b. /

Mistletoe

"our love is like an oasis

when our gazes intertwinemy heart climbs upthe staircase of paradise."-via wander owl

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London, December 1977

Sirius looked up from his place next to the Christmas tree at the sound of the doorbell, his fingers parting the curtain of hair that had fallen in his face. He watched carefully as a flustered and busy Lily Evans weaved in and out of the sea of bodies, laughing as she passed the punchline of a joke or making one herself, and answered the door. Sirius couldn't tell who it had been that who'd entered, couldn't hear the holiday greeting from the other side of the room, and couldn't allow himself to slip into ease until he'd known it was him who entered. Of course, it hadn't been, and he returned to his thoughts as his friends bickered amongst themselves.

Sirius sipped his wine tastefully, looking around as they squabbled. The living room was alive with movement and laughter, the aroma of Lily's honey-glazed ham filling the flat. A fire roared near him, crackling with weak wood and old pine needles James collected from the park nearby. Lights were strung up on the walls, ornaments clinking beside him as Frank adjusted the tree with Alice. Between the shuffling feet, both bare and covered, Sirius could pick out the trail of snow from the threshold of the door.

If you asked him, Christmas was a waste of a holiday and a waste of good money. Muggles spent an entire month, sometimes more, decorating their houses with obnoxious, blinking lights and candy canes that smelled too strongly for some fictional man to bring them validation in the form of gifts. The same songs played over the radio in shopping departments and supercenters; he couldn't get any grocery shopping done without hearing some lady rock around a tree. If that hadn't been enough, they threw these ridiculous parties in flats that were too small with not enough food to dream of feeding the occupants, records that skipped too often to be enjoyed, and Sirius was sure that if one more person did decide to show up the floor would cave in.

Being Muggle-Born, Lily was happy to throw a small get together for her friends. James was obliged to do anything that made Lily happy in the hopes that she'd agree to move in with him, and Sirius was sure this final act would seal the deal. In ways, Sirius hated it; he hated seeing everyone so damn joyful and carefree, so absent-minded and content in this blip of a moment. It was hard for him to shake the war from his mind, and he envied the others' ability to do so. If he could sit around the fire with Remus as he told stories of the Order training, he would do it. If he could help Lily in the kitchen with her cooking, he would do it. If he could join James for a drink, he would do it.

However, he found himself glued to his seat by the fire, unable to do much at all because the sense of unease and impending doom seemed to follow him around no matter where he went. This Christmas party wouldn't be any different, he'd told himself. He needed to remain vigilant, he told himself. In the back of his mind, like a nagging little parasite that never left him the fuck alone, Moody's voice barked orders at him. Find the exits, find the entries, find the weak spots, and find a defendable position. Always know your options, and never let the enemy get the upper hand. Not even clapping his hands over his ears or shouting different trains of thoughts could deter the bug, so he'd been stuck in a tense position by the Christmas tree that gave him a clear shot of all the windows and doors.

James clapped his hands together merrily, "I daresay, it is time to open our gifts!"

The crowd, and Sirius really considered it a crowd, hurried toward the sitting room, shoving themselves against each other on the sofas and floor, cheeks flushed with drink and laughter. Sirius let his eyes flit over to Remus, watching his tall figure situate himself in the back of the room like some looming shadow. Their eyes met momentarily, and Sirius wasn't quite sure what unspoken message had passed between them. It sent a jolt through his chest, a warmth, spreading to his fingers and toes; Remus flashed a weak smile, and looked away. Even though he couldn't read his mind with his wolfly powers, Sirius begged him to look at him once more.