A Christmas Like No Other

A Christmas Like No Other

              "I could be your worst nightmare," she said, slithering down the staircase in the dark, abandoned mausoleum of a house where I had been passing the night by the fire. "Why don't you run?"
            I remained absolutely motionless, still struck by her appearance. As a fugitive from the law, I had just betrayed the automatic "Flee! " issued by my instincts in situations like these; yet, I felt, I had not been wrong in doing so.
            On the other had, I fervently prayed that I hadn't gotten to the stage of desperation where attractive women in slinky black robes could dispatch the Killing Curse on me without any displeasure on my part. Other than the sort of vague irritation at being dead, I mean.
            "Say something!" She - the beautiful woman on the stairs - laughed. It was the sort of laugh a man could get used to hearing, despite its bitter overtones. (Especially when the man in question is a thirty-seven-year-old convict who hasn't heard such a lovely laugh in fourteen years.)
            "Er," I began, somewhat awkwardly, "I'm just - on the way to spend Christmas with my godson. You know, wish him the old Feliz Navidad. He's at school, and I though I'd pick him and his friends up for the day."
            "I know you!" the mysterious woman murmured, with a lovely, if terrifying, smile, "You're Sirius Black. Albus's told me about you. I'm Caroline Newman." She frowned in thought for a moment. "You are of the Order of Phoenix, correct?"
            I nodded dumbly.
            "Oh, good," she sighed, sliding sinuously down the banister. "Call me Caroline. Your number? I may need to borrow you for a bit. A wee thing I have to take care of."
            "I - uh - don't have a phone-"
            Another laugh. "Your Order number, of course."
            "Nine." Oh, God, I thought, I've made an utter fool of myself. Beautiful women did not come along often in my line of business. At least, not beautiful women that believed in my innocence. (We have Arabella in the Order, but she's a hag. An old, bitchy, vituperative hag.)
            "Ninth Protector?" Caroline raised an eyebrow. "I've worked with you before."
            At these words, my heart sank. She was gorgeous...
            But if she was who I thought she was, she was also my boss.
            "Bearer?" I squeaked, hoping against hope that I hadn't sounded like a teenager in the throes of voice changing.
            "Ah, Ninth Protector," she said throatily, "You do recognize me."
            I nodded dumbly again. "Er, yes..."
            "You'll be perfect." Caroline slid further down the balustrade. "Once we get you fixed up a bit."
            "For what?"
            "Silly me," she replied, "I suppose I forgot to tell you. You see, Albus has asked me to come to this year's Yule Ball at Hogwarts. I need a date."
            "And you expected to find one by lurking in a drafty, abandoned house at the midnight hour?" I inquired, attempting to mask my incredulity that she had just - basically - asked me to the Yule Ball.
            "No." Caroline frowned - not that I had any problem with that. She frowned beautifully. "It's my house. And it's not drafty. Besides, I wasn't looking for a date here. I was sleeping."
            I eyed her slinky black robes. They did seem more like a nightgown than something to be worn out of the house.
            "Very well. I think I'll just go back to trying to take a nap in front of the fire in your drafty old house," I said, turning away from the radiant vision on the staircase reluctantly.
            "It is not drafty!"

* * * * *

            The next day, I awoke to find myself being forcefully prodded by a wand. (I will say for the wand that, despite the fact I was quite peeved with its owner, it was a very nice wand. Not many wands are made out of solid emerald.)
            "Mrmph!" I exclaimed in dismay.
            "Get up," said Caroline, prodding my side more intensely for emphasis. "You're going to this Yule Ball in style."
            "Mrgh?"
            "As Remus Lupin. However, even your robes are a little tattered for that, and I have to pick up some ready-made Polyjuice Potion from Knockturn Alley."
            "Why go to all that trouble?" I moaned, having reached a moderate level of consciousness. "Why not just get Remus and leave me alone?" Inwardly, I decided that Caroline was also a vituperative, bitchy hag, even if she was beautiful. No one else would wake me up like that. Not even Mother, who was probably rolling in her grave at the thought that I, Sirius Black, was going to the Hogwarts Yule Ball. (However, Mother should have had more faith in me. At thirty-seven, you're not limber enough to pull off as many pranks as you were as an adolescent.)
            "Lupin," she hissed in my ear, "Is on holiday, with his daughter. In Estonia."
            I whimpered.
            "Come on, Sirius," Caroline wheedled. "Get up... I've baked muffins... Not very good muffins, most of them are scorched... but there's coffee. Good American coffee."
            "Tea?" I whispered hopefully.
            "I can find some," she replied.
            I went off with my tattered bundle of clothes, found the bathroom, and emerged a few minutes later, clad in slightly ragged robes and a particularly horrid pair of socks, my Christmas gift last year from Harry. I suspected Dobby had knitted them; only a house-elf would think to pair such an awful shade of orange with an iridescent purple.
            Caroline winced when she saw them, but refrained from commenting. I accepted my cup of tea - very weak, coffee-flavoured tea - and a burnt muffin, muttering a "thank you" vaguely in her direction.
            After a few moments, she sat down across from me, and spent the next five minutes drinking - I kid you not - roughly eight cups of coffee.
            She saw me watching curiously, and made an attempt to explain. "It's the caffeine," she said. "I'm sort of used to it... and it's not as strong for magic folk as it is for Muggles."
            "Are you insane?" I inquired. "That's still a bloody half-gallon of coffee you just drank!"
            Caroline shrugged. "I like it."
            I went back to attempting to eat my muffin. If the woman was going to drink two quarts of processed tar, I wasn't going to be the one to stop her.

* * * * *

            Fortunately, seeing as how I was a hunted man, Caroline conceded to go out and procure the Polyjuice Potion, while I transfigured my robes into something Remus might wear. I wasn't quite as happy with this arrangement as one might imagine; Remus's fashion sense is one of those things best not thought about. Not that I had any better idea of what was fashionable - but he'd made Wizarding Wear Daily's worst-dressed list several times.
            Once I had sadly maimed my robes to resemble Remus's favourite dress ones, I sat at the window and watched the neighbouring Muggles having a snowball fight. This is not as entertaining as it sounds when every other snowball comes whizzing toward you and lands with a splat! on the glass roughly a foot from your face. I don't think the neighbours liked Caroline much.
            She returned eventually with a strange sort of metal bracelet.
            "What is that?" I exclaimed.
            "It's not drafty, I assure you," Caroline replied snidely. I groaned; not only was she irritating, she thought she had a sense of humour. "It's a Glamour-bracelet. Since it was half-off, I thought it was a little better price-wise. I've enchanted it to make whoever wears it look like Lupin."
            "Me," I said with a sigh. "Do I have to wear jewelry?"
            "Too girly for you?" She was smirking.
            "No. It reminds me of... Azkaban. They used to chain me to the walls if I was louder than they liked."
            "Sorry," Caroline said, and, to my surprise, she sounded like she meant it. "If I made it so that you won't feel it while you wear it, would that help?"
            "Maybe."
            She took the thing, looked at for a moment, and then handed it to me. "Here. Try it."
            It worked well enough, and I said something to that effect.
            Caroline patted me on the shoulder. "See you here the day after tomorrow, bright and early."
            With that, she Disapparated, and I remembered, belatedly, that it was Christmas Eve.

* * * * *

            It was wonderful seeing Harry and his friends - Hermione and Ron even got me a present, a flamboyant lime-green quill - but they shouldn't have. Seeing my godson was Christmas present enough. We ate dinner together in Dumbledore's office, exchanged presents, and then I left for Caroline's house.
            I don't care what she said. The damned place was drafty.
            Upon seeing me, covered in snow, and wearing tennis rackets on my feet in place of snowshoes, Caroline had a fit of silent laughter. After a few minutes (during which I thought she was having a seizure) she managed to gasp, "You're looking quite nice this evening. Either that, or someone spiked the eggnog."
            "Caroline," I asked, "Has anyone ever told you that you're a spiteful, vituperative hag?"
            "No," she said with a smirk, "Has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like the Abominable Snowman?"
            This kept her amused for several more minutes. Meanwhile, I put on the bracelet and changed into Remus's simply awful dress robes. It wasn't funny. Really.
            We did make it to the Yule Ball on time, managed to enjoy ourselves to a moderate degree, and stealthily avoided Sibyl Trelawney, who had come down from her tower for once. Ron and Hermione didn't seem very interested in conversation (at least not with us), but Harry and Ginny were more than willing to chat. And chat. And...
            At about midnight, I managed a mild harrumph and commented to Caroline that we really ought to be going. She conceded, and we said goodbye to everyone, save Trelawney (the old bat), Hermione, and Ron, the latter two who had disappeared midway through the ball into the gardens. I prayed that Snape was a little less vigilant than I had heard, and dragged Caroline away from Professor Vector.
            As we made to exit the school, Caroline suddenly tugged at my arm, pointing to... something... that hung on one of the arches of the Great Hall. "Look," she said, excitedly, "It's mistletoe!"
            "Mistletoe?" I said, feeling a little mischevious.
           
            So, Remus, that's why Minerva McGonagall sent you a Howler about snogging Very Important Persons at the Yule Ball. I can't say I'm sorry, though. I may be a hunted man, but at least I've got Caroline to be hunted with.
            She is beautiful, after all.