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Chapter 13: Close Call and Christmas

Remus lay next to a sleeping Danger, breathing quietly, trying to get to sleep himself. But for some reason, perhaps because he had slept so late today — he’d been in bed till after noon, something he almost never did — he was wide awake.

He slid his nose under her neck, hoping to calm himself with her scent, then pulled back, startled.

What in the world?

His wolf emotions clamored that an enemy must be near. With a practiced hand, Remus reigned them in and brought his human mind to bear on the situation.

She was seriously upset about something earlier today. But she seemed fine when I woke up — she was good company all day, and she doesn’t have that edgy feeling to her anymore that I’ve been noticing for a little while now.

He licked around his jaws in thought. If she was all right when I woke up, then something obviously happened before I woke up. But she must not think I need to know about it, or she would have told me...

He felt a flash of unease. The last time something happened that she didn’t think I needed to know about, it was that spell that backfired on her. If I’d known about that, I might have been able to get it off us earlier.

Quickly, before he could talk himself out of it, he slid into her mind and moved down through layers of memory, trotting along in an illusory form which flickered from wolf to human to lion as he moved. I won’t pry, he told himself. This isn’t prying. I’ll just look at this one thing, work out what to do about it, and surprise her with it in the morning. She’ll thank me for it later.

Show me what happened this morning, he told Danger’s mind. Whatever had you so worked up that I can still smell it more than twelve hours later...

Something very solid loomed up before him. He backpedaled frantically, just avoiding slamming into it. It was the solidest block he’d ever seen in Danger’s mind.

She really doesn’t want me knowing about this, whatever it is.

He felt guilty. I should get out of her mind, stop spying on her. She deserves privacy, her own secrets, just like I do...

But I don’t keep secrets from her. At least, not many. And not something this big.

So I won’t try to break this. She’d know if I did, and that would be prying. But it isn’t wrong just to sit here and listen...

For scraps of thought were drifting out from behind the block, though the main event remained solidly out of his reach. He sat very still and let the images and snatches of conversation drift into his eyes and ears, one by one...

Danger in Sirius’ arms, crying her heart out.

"Sirius, I don’t dare tell him about this."

Danger smiling up at Sirius with her best roguish charm, that impish smile Remus had always loved on her.

"He’s not awake because I charmed him asleep."

Sirius looking back at Danger with his own devil-may-care grin, snickering.

"D’you think that’s why they call it adultery?"

Remus yelped aloud, jerking backwards and out of Danger’s mind. He shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of those images, those words.

No. No! That’s ridiculous! They wouldn’t — they can’t have —

I’m taking this wrong, I have to be. Those were just little snatches of their conversation, it can’t possibly mean...

His breath was coming a little faster. A conversation. A long conversation. While I was asleep. Charmed asleep, it would seem... to get me out of the way?

Stop this, now, he told himself severely. There’s some perfectly good reason why they were...

Alone, together, in a little room. Holding each other like that, and laughing, and crying. And something Danger doesn’t dare tell me — and Sirius, joking about adultery —

The wolf’s emotions were rising again, and this time, Remus let them. His breathing was coming still faster now, and a mist seemed to be settling before his eyes, clouding what he could see. In his nostrils was the smell of one he had once called friend, but no longer — for he would call no one friend who would steal his mate —

But does it count as stealing if she goes to him willingly?

He began to shake with rage. He could still see, on the backs of his eyelids, Danger smiling cheekily at Sirius — that puckish smile he so adored, and had thought was kept for him alone —

It seems I was wrong.

He had been betrayed, betrayed by those he thought he could trust, those he had trusted for so many years —

How long has this been going on? And how have I been so blind to it before now?

His mind was presenting him with a slideshow of a thousand little moments between Sirius and Danger, moments which had seemed utterly innocent, the playful banter between a brother and sister. But Remus could see, now, with utterly clear hindsight, the clasp of hands held a little too long, an embrace that lingered a bit beyond the merely brotherly, jokes made when he wasn’t listening — at his expense, perhaps?

I will not tolerate this. No more.

Anger was flooding through him. His claws were flexing in and out. Dimly he recognized what was happening — the wolf, it’s waking, it’s going to take me over — but he didn’t care. Not as long as the wolf’s fury would be properly targeted.

This one! he shouted, tearing Sirius’ image and scent from his memory and placing it foremost in the wolf’s mind. This one has taken your mate — he seeks your place — he will think you are weak tonight, and sleeping — you must strike at him before he strikes at you again!

Yes, the wolf growled. Yes! Kill the usurper, kill his mate and cub — end the tainted bloodline —

What? No!

But it was too late. The wolf was firmly in control. Yes. Kill. Too long with no killing — too long with no blood. Blood tonight.

No! Remus shouted at the wolf, but he knew it was futile.

What have I done — they won’t have a chance, they’ll be murdered in their sleep — what was I thinking, I must have been out of my mind —

You, the wolf snarled at him. Down!

He had no choice. At the full moon, the wolf was stronger than he. But before it could dominate him completely, Remus screamed one word, unsure if it had reached its mark or if it had even left his mind, but knowing it was his only chance to save himself and his Pack.

Danger!

Then he fell into darkness, despairing.

xXxXx

Danger!

She started awake. Remus? What’s — OW!

The werewolf’s claws had scored lines across her shoulder. You, it snarled into her mind — it, for there was no trace of her husband in the eyes that glared at her, and the speech was in the image-fragments of a maddened animal. You — with him —

The scent-sight-sound package accompanying the word made the "him" Sirius, and the "with" the werewolf used had a distinct connotation to it —

No! Danger cried in shock. Never!

I saw. I heard. You did. The werewolf stood over her, teeth bared. You will no more. I kill him. I kill his blood. Then I teach you. You will not stray again. You are mine!

I belong to no one that way! Danger retorted without thinking, then howled in pain as the werewolf struck her again.

You belong to me. You will learn. After I teach the other. He must die. The werewolf bounded out of the room.

The other — he means Sirius!

Danger staggered to her feet, wincing — blood was dripping down her shoulder into her fur, the cuts hurt like hell, but she couldn’t think about that now — not when Remus was about to —

A slam resounded through their quarters, and an angry snarl. Then another slam. Another, and this one accompanied by the distinct sound of splintering wood —

NO! She was in the office now, charging across the floor space, knocking Remus aside just as he was setting up for another run at the door, one which would almost certainly have got him through it —

NO! Remus, you can’t! She was on him now, pinning him down, but not for long as he slashed at her again. She flinched back automatically, but refused to run. Skin to skin is what does it — I have to get through the fur somehow —

She had hesitated too long. The werewolf leapt onto her and buried its teeth in her scruff, biting down hard. Danger howled again, almost losing control of her form, but clung to her wolf shape desperately. I can’t change now — if I do, he’ll kill me, and then we’ll both be lost —

Remus, please! Come back to me — don’t do this!

The furry body atop her own quivered suddenly as if it had been struck. The jaws bearing down on her opened slowly, releasing her.

Danger?

She exhaled shakily in relief at the sound of his voice, tentative and frightened though it was. Yes. Yes. It’s me.

Remus slid gracelessly off her, landing with a thud on the floor, his eyes human once more but terrified. They darted around the room, noticing everything. You — you’re hurt, you’re bleeding — your blood, I can taste it, it’s on my claws and my teeth — and the door — oh, God, what did I do? What did I do?

Nothing, Danger assured him quickly, moving to lie next to him. Nothing, you didn’t do anything. You didn’t get out. And I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I’ve been hurt worse.

Your shoulder — your neck — I did that — and Sirius — A wave of his panic rolled over Danger. I wanted to kill him! I wanted to kill him, and I let the wolf out — it would have killed him, and Aletha, and Meghan — I would have done that, it would have been my fault...

Remus, what happened?

She felt him shudder. God have mercy, Danger, I never meant any of this to happen...

I know. I know. Will you tell me?

I was wrong. I’m so sorry. I should never have done it.

Done what?

I went in — into your mind — I could tell you’d been upset about something, and I wanted to know what — Danger, please, the truth — are you and Sirius — is there anything going on between you?

The emotional tangle that accompanied these words was too complex for Danger to sort through on short notice. She set it away for later examination. No, she said "aloud," opening her mind to Remus fully, so that he could see that she spoke the truth. Nothing like that. There never has been.

Relief inundated her first, then sorrow and shame, as Remus began to shake with what, if he’d been human at the moment, would have been sobs. All this, then — for nothing...

Danger nosed his ear gently, then began to lick his fur, offering comfort as best she could. I love you, she told him. In this way, I love only you. There was never anyone else.

And I would love to know what made you think there was...

Keeping half an ear on Remus, and continuing to groom him, she began to sort through the snarl of emotions she’d received from him earlier. Fear was certainly present, fear that he might be right in his assumption, but also fear that he might be wrong.

My poor love. He can’t win either way.

Anger, at what he presumed Sirius had done, and jealousy — disgust and loathing — and something very odd and complex. A feeling that he somehow deserved this, that it was somehow only right that Danger and Sirius be having an affair, that it was nothing more than his just reward for —

For what?

He said he went into my mind. But we’re so open to each other, he must have known I wouldn’t mind him looking at almost anything — what could he have seen, that he’d think he deserved that?

Very gently, she probed the question further, and suddenly everything became clear.

Oh, good Lord. I almost want to tease him about it, about eavesdroppers never hearing anything good — but no, not now, not when he’s so torn up. Maybe next week, or next year. Not now.

She fitted the curve of her body into his. He was still shaking, but it was better now than it had been. Thank you for the truth, she said quietly.

You’re welcome. His voice was still on the verge of tears, but slowly backing away. I’m so incredibly sorry, Danger — neither of you had ever given me any cause to think such a thing, and I just went and leapt to conclusions based on scraps of a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear...

Are you quite finished lamenting and beating your breast?

Yes, I think so.

Good. Can we go back to the bedroom, then?

Remus laughed ever so slightly. You and Neenie — you hardly ever seem to lose your cool over anything...

But when we do, watch out, right?

Something like that.

Danger got carefully to her feet, favoring her bad shoulder. We can fix the door first thing in the morning. No one ever needs to know about this.

Oh, yes, they do. I owe Sirius an apology, for one. And you are getting those scratches seen to. It can stay in the Pack if you insist, but it has to go at least that far.

Danger sighed. All right. That far, but no farther. And why in the world do you think you owe Sirius an apology?

Remus looked at her as if she’d grown another head. For assuming he’d do something I should have known he never would?

Remus, people have misjudged their friends before. Sometimes those misjudgments have very bad consequences. And sometimes, like right now, they get nipped in the bud, before anything too terrible can happen. I lost a little blood, and our door took a beating. That’s all.

Yes, but for me to assume you were doing something together, when he was just holding you that way because...

Uh-oh. Danger gulped as Remus stopped walking and turned his head to look at her.

Come to think of it, he said slowly, I don’t think you ever actually told me what you two were doing in that room together. Just what you weren’t.

Danger’s throat closed in panic. I’m not ready for this — I hadn’t decided yet — I don’t know what to say —

What is it? Remus’ voice, surprised and urgent, broke into her madly scurrying thoughts. Are you all right?

I don’t know, she replied inanely, staring at the floor beneath her paws as though it might give her insight. Am I?

Not by your scent, or by your thoughts. Danger — Remus’ voice hardened slightly — I want your word that Sirius hasn’t hurt you in any way.

No! Of course not! Relief made her momentarily light-headed. He didn’t hurt me. He was helping me. I’d thought of something — it was like this, like panicking, only it was something else, something that made me sad — I did it to myself, Sirius helped make it better.

And just what is it that you did to yourself?

Danger gathered her thoughts and found a compromise, something acceptable to both of them, she hoped. Remus, can you trust me?

With my life, or more than that. What is it you need? For me to leave this alone?

Not for the first time, Danger blessed whatever deity — or other supernatural being — had sent her such a wonderful husband. Yes. But only for a little while. Only long enough for us both to get over what’s happened tonight. Then, if you still want to know, I will tell you. But it’s only fair to warn you that it may hurt you to hear, and that it’s nothing either of us can change.

I understand. His voice was heavy.

And I can also tell you what it isn’t. It isn’t anything like "I’m tired of you" or "I want to leave you" or "There’s someone else" or anything like that. There isn’t anyone else, and there never has been. I never want to stop being married to you. And I am not having an affair with your best friend. All right?

All right — though I think I may go crazy trying to figure out what it is before you tell me, Remus teased. Danger’s heart rejoiced at the light tones in his voice. What did I ever do to deserve a woman like you?

You were born, and grew up to become this most utterly lovable man that you are, whom I don’t deserve in the slightest.

Haven’t we been over this?

Yes, but it’s always nice to go there again.

Hmm. That gives me an idea.

Oh?

Remus lay down on their pile of bedclothes and arranged himself to make room for Danger. You’re not the only one allowed to have secrets. Though this won’t be one for very long.

Well, if you insist. Danger lay down beside him. I do love a romantic man.

You do? Is he taller than me?

Laughter accompanied them both to their destination.

xXxXx

On a broad stone terrace under a bright full moon, they danced.

She was all in white, with lilies-of-the-valley in her hair. He wore black and red, with a tiny sweetheart rose in his buttonhole. They had eyes only for each other.

In the shadows, an unseen figure raised an imaginary glass, toasting them.

"This will come to pass again one day," he murmured to himself, so softly that no one else heard. "And when it does, all your dreams will have come true."

xXxXx

She opened her eyes, and thought for a moment that she hadn’t, because she couldn’t see much of anything. Then she realized that with her eyes open, the darkness around her had a distinctly brown quality to it, and that something soft and thick and fibrous lay over her face.

Stupid hair. Maybe I should get it cut short, it’s always in the way, and such a pain to wash... at least I have a wand to get it dry quickly, I don’t know how Muggle girls manage...

Hermione brought her arm slowly around — slowly because she didn’t really have the energy for anything quick — and cleared her face. She wasn’t incredibly surprised to see that there wasn’t much to see now, either. A low, bumpy, sepia-toned landscape lay in front of her, and she could hear other people breathing around her.

It’s just dark in here, so I can’t see much color. This must be where they put us after we all fell asleep.

She thought back. She and Ron had spent quite a while trying to get their magic aligned — they seemed to butt heads more easily than anything, and the more things she thought of to make it work, the worse it got. Finally, she had backed off, made her own magic as receptive to his as possible, and only helped him when he asked for it. Well, and once when he didn’t. But that was just his stupid male pride, refusing to admit he didn’t understand something. Within a few seconds, they’d been in full harmony.

I have a feeling I was supposed to learn something from that, but I don’t much care for being manipulated into learning things.

Not even if they’re good for you? asked a voice that sounded quite a lot like Moony at his quietest and most ironic.

Especially not then. Hermione pulled away from this line of thought and continued remembering.

After we linked, then Ron linked with Ginny, and suddenly we were in with everyone. That was a moment worth remembering — the rush of Pride-magic through her veins, all the different feelings and colors and scents at once. Sorting out whose was whose hadn’t been nearly as difficult as she might have thought.

Then Neville and Meghan went in, and there was a draining sort of feeling, a little scary, but not too much, because I could feel that we were so strong it would take them a long time to drain us all the way. And when we started to sing, we had even more power.

It had been a fine time overall. There had been some worry for Meghan and Neville, but the link to them was still evident, their magics still present in the circle, so no one had fussed too much. The worst clashes had been over what carols or songs to do next, and most of those had diffused in laughter rather than anger. It had sometimes been confusing, since everyone had forgotten at least once not to think "aloud" and broadcast their thoughts over the link, but nothing terribly embarrassing had happened.

Being in full-bond like that was... not quite comfortable, but right. Not the sort of thing I’d want to do every day, but not something I’d never do again, either. There’d have to be a good reason for it, though.

Finally, there had been an enormous pull of power, staggering everyone for a moment, but they’d recovered quickly to keep the thread of the song going, and within about a minute, they’d felt Neville and Meghan returning, fatigued but joyous. The message they bore — We think it worked — spread around the link just ahead of the wave of exhaustion radiating from them. Hermione’d had barely enough time to settle herself in a comfortable pose before it hit her, catapulting her into sleep.

And then dreams. I don’t remember much — Neville was unhappy about something or other — oh, that’s right, about not waking up for so long. Those five days he and Meghan needed to recover looked like big books they were carrying. She smiled to herself. They looked like me in the morning, before class. And all of us only had two, so we decided to reallocate things.

Each of the six members of the Pride who had been support staff had taken one book from either Neville or Meghan, redistributing the amount of recovery time needed across the whole Pride. Then the scene had faded into something vague but enjoyable. A forest, and a dinner there. I remember playing in cat form, and I think there was some excitement, but it passed.

But speaking of dinner...

She was quite hungry, Hermione discovered. She sat up carefully, just in case she got dizzy or light-headed, but nothing of the sort happened. Other than hunger and a general need to use the bathroom, she felt fine.

She had just enough warning to brace herself, as something large hurtled through the dim air to land on her knees.

"Crookshanks! You scared me!" She looked around the comfortable, round room. "The door’s closed. How did you get in?"

Crookshanks gave her a look which seemed to say, You ought to know by now that cats do whatever they want.

"Well, you can just wait here." Hermione dumped the cat off her lap and got up. "I don’t think you’ll like where I’m going. Too much water."

Crookshanks curled up and began to wash his side, with an injured expression. When Hermione returned, though, he deigned to get back onto her lap and sit there, looking gloriously ineffable and purring loudly enough that Hermione was amazed the others didn’t wake up.

Which they didn’t. Not for quite a while. Hermione had located her wristwatch — lying on the mantelpiece, along with everyone else’s incidental belongings of that sort — so she knew what time it was, and just how long it had been since she’d awakened.

Finally, she got tired of waiting.

"Care to speed things along?" she asked Crookshanks.

xXxXx

Harry awoke from rather muddled dreams of soft red flowers to someone pushing rhythmically on his arm, seemingly using a few fingers from each hand.

"Go’way," he muttered, rolling onto his side and pulling his blankets over his head.

The pushing continued, and got harder. Now there were little prickles of pain involved as well, as if the person were digging in fingernails —

Or claws?

Harry pulled the blanket off his face and scowled at Crookshanks. "Scat."

The cat walked very deliberately up to him, looked at him sideways for a moment, then leaned over and licked his nose with a scratchy tongue before turning and strolling away.

"About time you woke up," said Hermione’s voice from across the room. Harry pushed himself upright and squinted in that direction — the combination of the dim light and being without his glasses made her doubly hard to see, and he pinpointed her more by virtue of her being the tallest thing over there than anything else. "I’ve been awake nearly half an hour, just watching the rest of you sleep."

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to this, so he settled for another topic of conversation. "Do you know where my glasses are?"

"On the mantelpiece. Hold on a second." The tall thing across the room became even taller, then moved sideways. A few moments later, it had resolved itself into Hermione, squatting down in front of him to hand him his glasses.

"Thanks." Harry took them and put them on. The room came into clearer focus. Ron lay sprawled against the wall nearby. Ginny was next to him, her hair fanned out artistically across her pillow. In the middle of the room lay Luna, one arm over her head. Draco was curled up a few feet from her.

"What’s today, do you know?" he asked, realizing he didn’t.

"No, but it ought to be Boxing Day, if we all slept three days. So we’ve only missed Christmas by one day, and it really doesn’t matter, because we’re all here, and we’ll have our dinner and our presents just the same."

"I don’t see Meghan," said Harry, looking around the room again. "Or Neville. I know they were supposed to wake up yesterday. I wonder where they are?"

"Probably with Neville’s parents," said Hermione. "If it worked. I think it did, but we’ll have to wait and find out."

"Should we wake the others?"

"Little late to be thinking of that, isn’t it?" said Ron, turning over with a yawn. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," Harry and Hermione wished him together.

"How did you sleep?" asked Hermione.

"Fine, I guess. I don’t really know. I don’t notice much while I’m asleep."

Hermione giggled. Draco stirred at the sound.

"I’ll be back in a second," said Harry, standing up. "Bathroom."

"Me too." Ron got quickly to his feet, one hand on the wall for balance.

By the time they both returned to the main room, Ginny and Luna were awake as well. Draco claimed next turn in the bathroom, with the younger girls after him.

"Did anyone else dream of a forest?" asked Ginny.

Everyone’s hands went up.

"And Draco’s father," said Luna. "You bit him, Harry."

Ron guffawed. "And where — that was brilliant, it really was. You have to do that for real sometime."

Harry made a face. "No, I bloody well don’t. That was disgusting enough in a dream, thank you. You want to bite him there, be my guest."

"I don’t think I could reach there. Maybe I could dive-bomb him, though."

"Ew!" Hermione laughed, shoving him. "That’s really disgusting!"

"I’ll help," said Luna, smiling broadly. "One of us can aim for his hair, and the other one for his face."

Draco came out of the bathroom, shaking water droplets off his hands. "What are you all laughing about?" he asked.

This just made everyone laugh harder.

The Pack-parents had to be watching them, Harry thought. There was no other way Letha could have turned up just as Ginny and Luna had finished in the bathroom, with clean holiday robes for everyone in her arms, and the welcome news that the Longbottoms had indeed been healed, and were eager to meet them all. "Or meet again, in your case, Greeneyes," Letha said from outside the screened enclosure she’d conjured for the boys to dress inside. "They remember you from when you were tiny."

Harry gave his Pack-mother a hard look as he came out of the enclosure. "Just please don’t start telling them embarrassing stories about me."

"I promise. We won’t start."

"They’ve already started," Draco predicted, coming out behind him. "Probably been telling them all the time we were asleep."

Harry groaned and looked at Letha without much hope. The small, sly smile on her face killed his hopes.

Let me guess. She started with throwing flour in the pantry, then moved on to writing my name on my face with lipstick, then she probably told them about the time we covered Padfoot in condiments — though that’s worse for him than it is for us, really...

He traded weary looks with the rest of the Pride.

Sometimes I wonder if adults were ever kids themselves.

xXxXx

Christmas dinner was marvelous. Fourteen people — the Pack and Pride, plus the Longbottoms — sat around a comfortably large round table, and devoted themselves to the dual pleasures of eating and talking. Table manners were observed rather sketchily, but no one made a fuss about it, and there was plenty of everything, though Hermione did stop Ron from taking a fourth helping of pudding.

"This isn’t a dream," she hissed at him, glaring. He glared back, but set the spoon down in the dish without taking anything.

Honestly, is he ever going to learn?

Finally, after dinner was over, they all moved to the other room, where a splendid Christmas tree towered above a truly impressive number of packages. Two of the packages looked much the same, about five and a half feet long and slender, but thicker at one end than the other. The boys’ eyes all popped when they saw these.

"I know one’s Harry’s," said Draco. "But who’s the other one for?"

"Are you volunteering to hand out presents?" asked Danger.

Draco rolled his eyes. "All right, fine."

Everyone quickly found seats as Draco sat down on the floor by the tree and picked up one of the wrapped broomsticks, turning it to read the label. He squinted and frowned, turning it this way and that.

"Enough drama, fox, just pass it along," said Padfoot, taking a seat in one of the room’s armchairs. Letha sat beside him in the matching chair, while Moony and Danger took a couch, and Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom the other one.

Draco scowled. "You ruined my moment."

"Too bad."

"Here." Draco pitched the broomstick across the room towards Ron, who caught it automatically, looking rather surprised.

"Who’s it for?" he asked.

"You, stupid."

"I’m not stupid."

"No? Then why are you still sitting there and not opening it yet?"

"Wait — it’s for me?" Ron stared at the package in his arms as the Pride covered smiles.

"I think I said that," said Draco with an overabundance of patience in his voice. "Read the label if you don’t believe me."

Ron turned the parcel around. "To Ronald," he read aloud. "A Very Happy Christmas from Mum and Dad, Mr. Padfoot and Mrs. Letha, Mr. Moony and Mrs. Danger." He looked around at the adults in confusion.

"Go on," said Letha, smiling at him. "You earned it."

Ron hesitated one more instant, then grabbed the narrow end of the package and ripped. The paper came off in a long strip, and the broom rolled out onto the floor.

"Oooooh," said everyone who appreciated brooms. Hermione said it too, just to be companionable. In truth, the broom was rather handsome, with a jauntily polished handle and tightly bunched twigs. Ron picked it up and ran his hands along it reverently.

"It’s a Cleansweep Ten," he said, looking awed. "The latest model."

"Best maneuverability in its class, and still plenty of speed," said Padfoot. "That’s what a Keeper needs, is the ability to pull tight turns and get from one goal to the next. This ought to serve you well, but we’ll have to teach you how not to fly into the stands."

Everyone laughed. Ron was still staring at the broom in his hands with awestruck eyes. "I — I thought I was just getting my old one repaired — I didn’t know why Mum wouldn’t tell me when it was going to be done..."

"Well, now you do," said Moony. "Happy Christmas."

Hermione shook her head fondly. Such little things make him happy...

"Harry, this one’s yours," said Draco, passing this parcel carefully over. "I think we all know what it is..."

Harry, grinning, ripped the paper off to reveal —

Nothing. The form inside the paper had been made by strips of cardboard taped to the inside.

The girls all fell about laughing at the look of tragic disappointment on Harry’s face. "It’s not funny," he said angrily. "Hermione, how would you like it if you were promised some new set of books, and when you got them, you found out they were just empty covers?"

Hermione shook her head again. "I wouldn’t be angry," she said. "Because I know the Pack-parents always keep their promises. And I think I see something shiny over there." She pointed towards the couch Moony and Danger were occupying.

Padfoot drew his wand. "Accio Firebolt!" he intoned.

A sleek, shining broom slid out from behind the couch and zoomed towards Padfoot, stopping in front of him at mounting height. Harry’s face transformed magically from a mask of tragedy to one of joy. Hermione sighed and exchanged tolerant looks with Meghan and Luna. Ginny, of course, was as Quidditch-mad as any boy, and was the first to ask Harry for a go on the Firebolt — "after you get to ride it, of course," she added quickly.

There were piles of other presents, of course, but the two broomsticks were the apex of the day for Harry and Ron. Ginny’s favorite present was a set of extra-fine quills and special inks — Hermione had known vaguely that one of Ginny’s favorite hobbies was calligraphy.

Luna’s father had sent her a new set of jewelry — a necklace, earrings, and tiara, all set with, as Luna informed everyone, "real fossilized fairy fewmets." She said they would bring her luck in the new year. Boys and girls alike crowded up to see them, but Hermione stayed back. Moony caught her eye and waved her over.

"I suppose you’re not going to tell them what fewmets are," he said quietly.

"What, and miss the fun?"

Moony smiled. "Taught you well, we have," he said in a squeaky voice.

"Aren’t you a little tall for Yoda?" asked Hermione critically.

Meghan ripped into one of her presents and gave a shriek of joy — Aunt Amy had come through again, sending Meghan a magical CD player of her very own, along with a collection of famous ballets on CD. Harry and Draco looked jealous. Hermione made a mental note to be very nice to Meghan over the next few months.

Neville’s best gifts, of course, hadn’t come wrapped, but his smile grew even wider when Mr. Longbottom produced a black case from under one of the couches and lifted out a guitar. He was just showing Neville how to place his fingers for a simple chord when he looked up and discovered the entire Pride was watching him. He looked over at Moony. "And I thought you were making it up," he said.

Moony shrugged. "I tried to tell you," he said. "What one of them does, they all take at least a passing interest in. So if you’re going to teach any one of them something, better plan to expand your lessons, at least the first few. After that, the ones who aren’t really interested drift back to their own things. I suppose the novelty wears off."

"I still think what you decided to teach all of them is a little extreme," said Mrs. Longbottom. "But it’s not as if we’re going to tell you to stop. That would be unfair to Neville, when Augusta already said he could. Besides, if I understand correctly, he’s doing well?"

"Very well," said Letha. "Neville, would you care to demonstrate your latest conquest?"

"Er, okay." Neville handed the guitar back to his father and pulled out his wand. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out, then opened them. Aiming his wand at his left arm, he carefully said, "Lacerus et ulna sinistrus dimidius integumentum veneficium."

His left arm shrank and the fingers lengthened. It grew a great deal of silvery fur, and when Neville shut his eyes again and concentrated, the arm wavered and disappeared, giving him the look of an amputee. His parents applauded, as did the Pride — although they’d seen it before, it was still impressive.

"Neville’s spells are longer than anyone else’s, either," Hermione volunteered. "Because his form is magical, he has to have an extra word or two in every spell to make sure that part of him has the magic that demiguises have."

"Going to be worth it, though, isn’t it?" asked Ron. "Be able to disappear whenever you want?"

"He can disappear whenever he wants now," said Ginny.

Neville shook his head. "I can’t," he said. "I tried it at home with Gran. It didn’t work there. I think it only works at Hogwarts."

"Disappearing?" inquired Mrs. Longbottom. "I don’t think we’ve heard about this."

"Change your arm back first, Neville," said Padfoot. "And then we’ll tell you about the nocturnal exploits your son makes possible," he said to the Longbottoms. Mrs. Longbottom looked a bit disapproving, but Mr. Longbottom seemed interested.

"Reditio lacerus et ulna artus," said Neville, returning his arm to its original form. He was rather pink. "We’ve never done anything really wrong with it," he said. "We just go out sometimes, when we don’t want other people to see us. Or when we need to help someone."

"I’m still not clear on what ‘it’ is," said Mrs. Longbottom.

"Watch, Mum." Neville began to mutter to himself. Hermione concentrated. She had a feeling that if you knew, for a fact, that Neville was there, and looked really, really hard at the place you knew he was, you might be able to see through his magic.

She nearly gave herself a headache, but she managed. By the time Mrs. Longbottom exclaimed over the way Neville had vanished, Hermione could still see her friend, smiling happily within a cocoon of what looked like thickened air. She kept her eyes trained on him and tried not to blink too often.

"Hermione, what in the world are you doing?" exclaimed Danger.

Everyone looked at her. She felt her face heat to the approximate temperature of the Sun. "Er, nothing."

"Well, ‘nothing’ appears to be making your eyes bloodshot," said Moony. "Draco, do we have anything a little easier for Hermione’s eyes to rest on?"

"I think so." Draco dug around in the packages. "Ah-ha, here’s one. Nice and big and blocky. Feels like... books. What a big surprise." He handed it to her ceremoniously.

Carefully, Hermione tore the paper off, and felt her eyes go wider than ever.

Lying in her lap were seven leather-bound books, each done in a different shade of brown or red, each with a ribbon sewn into the binding to mark one’s place with. The title of the one on top was The Last Battle.

She beamed at the Pack-parents. "Thank you, thank you so much! It’s perfect!" She was peripherally aware of the boys shaking their heads, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that she got a brand-new, hardcover set of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. She could hardly wait to see the Pevensies and Aslan and all her old friends again, this time with the smell and feel of real leather and parchment to accompany her as she journeyed.

"Magical edition, too, Kitten," said Moony. "Look inside."

Hermione opened The Horse and His Boy eagerly and watched in delight as Bree and Hwin trotted down the path together, the ragged Shasta and the armored Aravis on their backs. Magical editions of Muggle books could be hard to come by, because laws applied differently to books than to other things. However, if the buyer signed an affidavit that the books would not pass into Muggle hands, they could be had, at a price. Hermione knew these must have cost a pretty Galleon.

"I’ll take the best care of them," she promised, hugging them close.

"You’d better," said Padfoot mock-sternly. "So, we all out of presents, or are there any more under there?"

There were more. Most of them were smaller things like candy or new quills or little toy animals or broomsticks, but down at the very bottom, Draco discovered a box addressed to him, about half the size of a shoebox. "It says it’s from Cousin Tonks," he said, looking at the card. "She says, ‘Look into this to help you study.’"

"If anyone would know about study aids, it would be Dora," said Padfoot. "She crams like a mad thing for tests."

Draco tore off the wrappings, opened the box, and lifted out the item within.

It was a globe of black glass, of a size to be held in two hands, slightly translucent and with something red embedded in its heart. Draco rolled it over in his hands, looking at it. "It has runes on it," he said. "They’re engraved all over." He held it up to the light, studying it. "They’re really complex, though, I don’t think I can make them out. Neenie?"

Growling briefly for custom’s sake, Hermione joined him near the candelabrum. "These are complex," she said, running her finger along one of them, a mass of interjoined and connected lines. "Let me see it?"

Draco looked reluctant, but handed the globe to her. Hermione turned it in her hands. "This one looks familiar," she said finally, "but I can’t remember what it means. I can’t read any of the others." She handed it back to him.

Draco pulled out the cloth the globe had been wrapped in and reverently wrapped it up again before sliding it carefully back into its box. "I really like it," he said. "I’ll have to remember to write Tonks a good thank you note."

Harry and Ron made noises of disbelief. "Listen to you," said Harry. "Thank you notes? What kind of wizard are you?"

"A polite one. And witches like polite wizards."

"Who cares if witches like you?" said Ron.

The adults all covered smiles as the girls exchanged highly insulted looks. "I think you’re about to," said Letha.

"Get him!" shouted Hermione, and dived on Ron, smacking him over the head with the first thing that came to hand, which turned out to be a large wad of discarded wrapping paper. When the fight was over and the entire Pride appeared to have been gift-wrapped, Mrs. Longbottom produced a camera and took several pictures of them before the adults would stop laughing and help them get unwound.

"Look at it this way," said Luna. "Now we know for sure what they can embarrass us with when we grow up and get boyfriends and girlfriends."

xXxXx

It wasn’t until late that night, snuggling into bed with Crookshanks warming her feet, that Hermione recalled what the one familiar rune on Draco’s globe meant.

It was the rune for blood.

She wondered if she should tell him, then decided not to. She might have misread it, and it probably wasn’t important anyway.

Her dreams were full of mazes, with corridors running confusingly into one another, dead ends popping up out of nowhere, and unexpected jerky transitions from one to the next when she stumbled into random spots, until suddenly Ron dived down from above on his new broom and carried her away into the sky, where she could look down and see that she’d been trapped in the unfamiliar, complicated shapes of the other runes on the glass globe...

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