The Lion and the Unicorn

- The Beatles, The End

*

"No," Sirius said very quietly, staring down at the carnage. Wormtail's body featured many bumps and bony protrusions, not to mention the great bloody mess that had been made of his head. It appeared that he had been slammed repeatedly into one of the huge pillars with incredible and deadly force. "This cannot be his end." He drew his wand, hand shaking. "You did this," he said, his voice growing louder. "You did this! THIS!" His whole body was trembling now. "I trusted you!" he shouted. "You were my friend and I trusted you with my friends' lives and you repaid me by throwing everything back in my face! I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Remus tried to restrain him, but Sirius shook him off angrily. He was too far gone. "I can't even blame you!" he railed. "Only myself! How can I live with myself? I HAVE MURDERED SLEEP!" Sirius' face twisted grotesquely as he turned it up to the sky. "I did that to myself, and I admit it! But you, Peter, you have murdered a dream! Traitor." His last word died into silence and he collapsed where he was standing.

Charlie was so pale that Harry feared he might just collapse next to Sirius and refuse to move. Chloë squeezed his hand awkwardly and they turned away from each other in almost-silence. Harry was pretty sure he heard sniffles coming from that direction. He himself was having troubles coming to grips with his emotions; everything seemed so like a dream that emotion was superficial. Remus stood behind Sirius, head bowed, and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Sirius, for once, did not seem to resent the gesture. He was trembling on the ground beside Anya's body, clasping a hand not yet devoid of inner heat and looking very dangerous indeed for someone who was in mourning. Harry wondered detachedly if Sirius was sane.

He didn't have long to wonder. Sirius raised his head slowly, turning a bleak and almost angry gaze on Ginny, or whoever had taken over her body. She still stood almost regally, chin lifted, but Harry thought he saw her tremble under the stare. Sirius spoke in a low, treacherous voice, raw with anger and emotion left over from his earlier tirade. "Bring her back," he commanded, and Harry saw his fingers tighten around Anya's. "I know you can do it. I have seen you do stranger things."

The granite-gray eyes that did not belong to her flicked coolly over him. "That is the art of necromancy. She is already dead, Sirius. Would you have me risk the Brighid's wrath by playing with Fate?"

"Come on, Sirius. It's time to-"

Sirius turned on Charlie (who seemed about to be sick), shaking with rage and grief. "I cannot leave her here!" he exploded, causing everyone to take a good step backwards. "I won't!"

Gently, Remus moved forwards and attempted to coax him back from the body. "What would you do for her, Sirius?"

Harry felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as Sirius looked down at her forlornly. "Die," he whispered sadly. Harry wanted to hide from his tortured gaze. The first stars winked into existence behind him, lending their silent support.

Ginny- or whatever had taken over her body- sighed. "Then I have no choice," she said simply. "You had better hope that the Brighid takes a liking to you. Kneel." Sirius did so, and she intertwined his fingers with those of the fallen Sidhe. "Close your eyes," she instructed. "And whatever you do, don't move." With that, she stepped back a bit, spreading her fingers and muttering under her breath. A wind blew suddenly, warm and furious, with Ginny, Sirius and Anya in the center. Between her fingers a static charge was building, blue and crackling and almost alive. There was a loud clap of thunder and she raised her hands to the sky, conducting the lightning all around them. Her whole body electric blue with static electricity, Ginny's hand moved toward her side and the knife that was sheathed there. Without further ceremony, she moved forward and drove it through the back of Sirius' left hand and into Anya's, breaking the fragile scab, still speaking under her breath. This time, the cyclonic winds carried her voice to Harry's ears. "Quid sum miser nunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus? Cum vix justus sit securus!" She shouted this last part and the lightning resumed its erratic striking.

This time, Ginny made no move to control it. There was no sound besides the howling of the wind in Harry's ears. Around him, figures began to flicker in and out of existence. Between the huge pillars of stone, cloaked and hooded women appeared for split seconds at a time, surrounded by the same blue aura that had enveloped Ginny. Harry was fairly certain that there were two or three of them, but couldn't be absolutely sure- they never stayed long enough for him to get a good look. They were all whispering enchantments but Harry, near the middle of the circle, could not hear them properly or discern them from each other. All he knew was that they came from different directions, once behind him but beside him seconds later.

The storm was building. There would be no rain, Harry could tell, but that didn't mean it wasn't a storm. He could feel its charge in his very bones and needed do little more than open his eyes to see that there was a roiling, dense cloud gathering just above them. Then the whispers grew louder and died out, taking the wind with them. Harry held his breath.

Seven sizzling bolts of lightning struck one by one around him, branching out until they all touched the stone on which Anya rested. There was a loud snap when they again broke contact with the earth, and as quickly as it had begun, the storm was over. The cloud still hung ominously, stretching to the farthest edges of Harry's vision. Ginny pulled the knife with a vicious tug from Sirius' hand and collapsed on the ground beside him, the blade falling to thump anticlimactically at her side.

Unsure of why he was doing what he was, Harry picked it up and cleaned it on the grass before sliding it back into the sheath at Ginny's waist, then, awkwardly because of her seeming reluctance or inability to move, pulled her into an embrace. Her eyes, at some point in the course of the last few minutes, had darkened back to brown, and he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't remember a damned thing that had gone on later.

Yet even Ginny could not hold his attention for long. In front of Anya and Sirius a woman had appeared, looking at the same time proud and humble, cruel and kind, vengeful and forgiving. In her arms she carried a heavy, open book with the Gaelic word for 'Judgement' inscribed on the spine in gold. Sirius watched her unfazed with pleading eyes, and eventually she spoke, or what could be called speaking for lack of a better term. It was more like the words simply appeared in Harry's head as he attempted to listen. "You are an honorable man, Sirius Black." She looked down at the half-Sidhe at her feet. "You would do this for her?" Sirius merely nodded. "As she would have for you." The Brighid's eyes fluttered closed and she slammed the book shut. It immediately erupted into flame, but it did not burn. "I will withhold my judgement. Her welfare is no longer my responsibility." She flickered a bit, and then the Book of Judgement's fire enveloped her, too, and the cloud receded as quickly as it had gathered and then she was gone.

*

She was just standing in the doorway when he found her, watching. Outside on the windowpanes there was a thin layer of snow; the flakes reflected starlight from the deep, moonless night, perfect, pristine crystals in a world that did not know it had been saved. Complete innocence. It seemed such a long time ago that he'd lost his.

"You love him," Charlie said, sounding unnaturally loud in the darkness. He had suspected something for a very long time, but he hadn't anticipated this. It was so difficult to glean important personal details from owl post. She had certainly never come right out and said it.

Anya, to her credit, did not jump. She merely turned to regard him, quietly admonishing, "Hush. You'll wake him up." By silent agreement, seemingly reluctant on Anya's part, they retreated to the hallway and then to the sitting room.

"You could have told me," Charlie reproached gently, feeling some of the tension drain out of him as he did his best to relax in the firelight.

"You could have told me what happened between you and Chloë," Anya returned, stretching out on the sofa. "Which I expect you to fill in for me now, by the way."

He sighed. He knew he would never get away with anything less than the complete truth. "There was a third party involved," Charlie confessed. He could almost hear her eyebrows raising. "On her part, I mean, not mine. I do know better."

"I wasn't going to say- oh, Charlie, I'm sorry-"

He waved it off. "Don't be. I was going to break it off, anyway. It's not like I was in love with her." He paused. "So how long has this been going on, anyway?"

"Forever, yesterday, four months ago, tomorrow, last week, next Friday," she answered, sounding far away. "I think you're going to have to be a little more specific."

Apparently, Charlie thought ruefully. "You slept with him, didn't you?"

Anya sat bolt upright. "What? Why would you think that?"

"That's a yes, then. When did you? And once again, why have I heard nothing of this?" It was a sort of refreshing change to be the one dishing out the teasing, Charlie thought with a sardonic grin. Even if it was sort of saddening that Anya had nothing to razz him about anymore.

"You're just not going to give up, are you?" She relaxed again. "It'll be six days ago now."

"Six days?!" Charlie said incredulously. And already Sirius looked as if he'd had his heart ripped out. I have a feeling this is going to be- and possibly even has been- a very interesting courtship. "And I couldn't tell? I've not been a very good best friend, have I?"

"You were otherwise occupied," Anya said easily. "I forgive you."

"That's all very well, but I don't forgive me," Charlie said. "Although technically it's not all my fault. If you were just a little more informative in your letters-" He caught the pillow that she'd tossed his way. "Well, you could have said something. I mean, I probably wouldn't have joked about the present living arrangements so much. How long have you known?"

"Weeks. A little over a month, actually. Since Bill's wedding, when it finally occurred to me that I was going to die." She smiled a bit, shadows from the firelight dancing over her features. "Glad that's over."

She's known for over a month, Charlie thought. Good grief. I have been overlooking this for a very long time. "And have you said anything to Sirius about it yet?" he asked.

"Er," came the answer that didn't need finishing.

"And I suppose Sirius hasn't brought up the subject either, although it's blatantly obvious how much he cares for you."

Anya mumbled something that Charlie didn't quite hear.

"Sorry?"

"I told him not to say it," Anya repeated reluctantly. "I was going to die and I didn't want to complicate things and I didn't want to hurt him anymore than I already have, and, I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time…"

Charlie snorted. "So you were drunk, afraid and confused, eh?"

"That about sums it up, yes."

"You should really just tell him, you know. It will make things a lot easier on both of you if you just get it out in the open." He wondered who he was to talk like that, but decided it was not worth analyzing at the present moment.

"I wish it were that easy," Anya said with a sigh. "But it's really not- you know that. I've only been in love once before-" She stopped in mid-sentence and Charlie got the peculiar feeling that she had said something she hadn't meant to say. Indeed she must have; she had never mentioned anything about her romantic past before him at all.

He flinched a bit. "I know what you mean," he said, staring intently into the fire. But he didn't say anything. He had promised that he wouldn't bring it up. He wouldn't jeopardize their friendship for anything, not even this.

"Charlie," Anya began with a pleading sort of tone. He heard her get off the couch and walk over to the armchair. She knelt beside him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… Well, I shouldn't have. Do you want to talk about it? I really am sorry."

So that was it, then. After all these years, Anya was ready to talk about what had happened between them. It was at this point that Charlie realized he had lost her completely, probably forever. "It's alright," he said, trying to smile but not quite able to meet her gaze. After all, he had known for some time that she would never feel the same way about him that he did about her. If he was honest with himself, he truly hadn't expected her to and certainly didn't feel as strongly for her as he had before, but letting go of what might have been was proving very difficult. "Believe it or not, I do understand."

She stood, pressed her lips to his forehead briefly, and ruffled his hair affectionately. It was almost, but not quite, like nothing had ever happened. "I know. You're the best, Charlie."

"I know I am," he replied, almost managing to sound cheerful. "Now go. Much as I hate to admit it, Sirius probably needs to see you more than I do right now, whether he's unconscious or not." He paused. "And I am fairly sure that you need to see him almost as badly."

"Are you sure? I mean, I can-"

"Go on," Charlie encouraged, smiling in earnest now, if a little wistfully. "I have a well-stocked liquor cabinet to keep me company. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Goodnight."

For one of us, anyway, Charlie thought self-pityingly. "Goodnight." But he made no move towards the liquor cabinet, even after she had gone.

*

Sirius would never remember how exactly they'd gotten home. He had the vague idea that he hadn't been conscious for much of it. Had he studied Life Bonds, he would have known that the reason for this was that the states of the two beings were almost, but not quite, reversed once the ancient magic was invoked; it would take him a day or so to recover, but essentially there was nothing wrong with him.

However, Sirius was not privy to this information, and the fact that he felt like he was a step from death was not very comforting. His eyes had automatically opened when the induced unconsciousness had worn off; he didn't have the energy to close them again. All he could see was a dark silhouette by the window, which seemed to be watching him closely.

"Good, you're awake," came Anya's voice. She moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You had us worried for a minute there."

Sirius tried to laugh, but found he didn't have the energy. "That's ironic. You go and get yourself killed by Wormtail and I'm the one who everyone worries about. Although I suppose worrying about someone is generally useless if they're already dead." He paused, gathering strength. "And I was pretty worrisome for a minute there, I admit." He was fairly sure he'd thrown some sort of tantrum, although the details were a little fuzzy.

"Remus was going to Stun you," she said with a small smile. "I'm very glad he didn't."

"Not nearly so much as I am," he responded dryly. "Although, I do feel like I've been run over by the Knight Bus. Next time, can you please avoid getting yourself killed by my arch nemesis?"

"I hope very much that there won't have to be a next time." Anya sighed. "But we all know that there's bound to be. Anyway, as your arch nemesis is quite dead himself, I doubt that avoiding being killed by him is going to be a problem."

"Dirty rat," Sirius spat halfheartedly. "He got no more than he deserved."

"Having seen him die, albeit during an out-of-body experience, I'd have to say that he got rather less. He should have suffered." The cold steel in her voice sent an icy chill down Sirius' spine. He immediately resolved never to get on her bad side.

"He was my friend once, you know," Sirius said. "I never even suspected him of being a traitor. I thought it was Remus. I spent twelve years hating myself and Peter for what happened. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive either of us. There is nothing I can ever do to make up for what I did before. I have to live with that. Can you?"

A faint, sad smile danced across her features before disappearing, and she reached out and took his hand. "If I must. That doesn't mean I won't try to change it. I think fourteen years of living the way you did is enough. But there is something I want you to do."

Sirius swallowed and closed his eyes. He knew what she meant. Gods, how could he not? "I don't think-"

"I know you don't," Anya said quietly. "But you know you have to do it, and I know you have to do it, and that's not enough." After kissing him softly, she backed away. "You need your rest. I'll let you be for now."

"You should be in bed," Sirius mumbled exhaustedly. He was fairly sure she'd put some sort of sleeping enchantment on him.

She couldn't hide the smile in her voice from him, no matter how tired he was. "Is that an invitation, Sirius? I rather think you haven't got enough energy to be any good to me at the moment." He heard her sink into the chair by the window as if from a great distance. "Sleep. I promise I'll still be here in the morning."

He did, and to his complete lack of surprise, she was.

*

Ginny awoke in an unfamiliar room, feeling as if she were missing a great portion of her memory. There was a big gap where most of the previous day was concerned. She vaguely recalled sneaking into Harry's room the preceding morning to get his cloak and finding that he was already awake. Then they had tagged along to- where? She didn't remember. She knew that they had taken a Portkey back from wherever they had been, tired, and with an unconscious Sirius. She assumed she was at Dromore House, but couldn't say where, exactly. She hoped her mother wasn't too worried.

Tired and sore, but curiously feeling like the cat that got the canary, Ginny managed to pull herself out of bed. Now that she could look around better, she found herself in a second-floor bedroom not dissimilar to her dormitory at Hogwarts, excepting of course the huge round turret in the corner. The frosted windowpanes and glass-and-wrought-iron trim door gave the room a very Christmasy feel, especially with the few inches of snow that adorned the balcony.

Someone had left a rather large blue bathrobe on the end of the bed, for which Ginny was grateful. It was rather cold upstairs, probably owing to the fact that Dromore was a large, draughty old house, and she realized that she was still only wearing her robes from the previous day with a layer of Muggle clothes she'd nicked from Fred's closet underneath. In hindsight, it occurred to her that she probably should have brought a cloak of some sort on her escapade the night before, but she still didn't even know where she'd been, so blaming the virus she was sure she was developing on that was probably futile until she had more information. She slid her feet into the pair of overlarge slippers before venturing towards the door.

It opened before she got there and Harry stepped in, looking rather beat up to Ginny's expert eye. "Ginny! What are you doing up?"

"Haven't I missed breakfast?" she asked curiously, glancing out the window again. The sun was rather high in the sky…

"Ah, no," Harry answered. "Neither Remus nor your brother can cook for toffee and Anya and Sirius are, ah, having a bit of a lie-in…" He turned very red. Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. Poor Harry, never having older brothers who muttered shamelessly obscene and innuendo-laced things day and night. "And I was waiting for you," he finished.

She smiled. "Well, I'm up, and I feel like I could eat a dragon." For some reason, that felt incredibly strange to say. "Also, my memory of last night is somewhat lacking. You can fill me in while you make breakfast." Harry made a face at her, which she readily returned. "I see you've gotten yourself some more scars. Malfoy will certainly be impressed."

He swatted at her halfheartedly, grinning, then caught her hand, sobering. "You've got a few nasty ones yourself." He turned her arm over gently, revealing a long burn lengthwise down her forearm and a deep scratch crossing it near her elbow at a thirty-degree angle. "Ron is going to kill me. I promised I wouldn't let them hurt you."

Ginny scoffed. "I'm fine. I have no idea what happened last night, but other than that, I'm fine."

"If this is fine," Harry growled, "I'll kiss Malfoy."

"I hope not," she said, "he doesn't deserve you." She leaned over and kissed him on the nose. "Now, how about that breakfast?"

*

Charlie stood in the queue at Sparc, regretting leaving Anya's last-minute Christmas grocery shopping until the last minute. There was to be a celebration at Dromore House on Christmas Eve, and Anya had decided that if she was going to cook, she was most certainly not doing the shopping. It was for this reason that Charlie stood in an almost disgustingly long lineup, luckily nearing the front.

The witch in front of him seemed very familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen her before. She was slender, just under his height and had chocolate-latte colored skin and short, sun-bleached blonde hair. She also wore dark red robes, but that was all he could see.

The woman proceeded to the cashier to pay for a few items. Charlie could have sworn that, when the cashier told her the amount, someone muttered, "Bloody Pom money… Galleons and sickles, my arse…" He frowned. Even her voice was familiar. It sounded Australian, or something…

Then she looked up at him as she finished packing up her groceries. Her green eyes sparkled in recognition. "Charles Weasley," she observed, shaking her head. "Fancy meeting you here."

Something in her face jump-started his brain and he grinned wryly, finally able to put a name to the memory. "Katherine Beard," he said, amazed to see her. He hadn't seen her in months, since his rotation on the larger dragon reserve in Romania around May. "You're far from home. What brings you to merry old England?" As if on cue, thunder sounded outside. The sky was clouding over again.

She shook her head, and Charlie had the unsettling impression that the forced solemnity on her face had just given way to something more sincere. "It's a long story, although I suppose I could ask you the same thing."

"I live here," replied Charlie matter-of-factly, paying for his groceries and heading towards the exit to keep pace with his old colleague.

Katherine looked surprised. "I thought you said that rabid demons couldn't drag you away from the reserve!"

Shaking his head, he had to answer, "Well, they tried, and it turned out that I was wrong."

This elicited a curious expression from his companion, but she didn't ask. "So how's Anya? I heard about her brother…"

Charlie held up his shopping bag. "She's well enough to send me on her errands." He wondered how much, exactly, he could tell her about the events of the past week, and decided she probably wouldn't believe him anyway. "How she convinced me to go shopping the day before Christmas is beyond my comprehension."

A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. "I don't think that's quite true," she said, looking about as innocent as a twin in Zonko's. "You've always had a bit of a soft spot where she's concerned, admit it."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Katherine, you have no idea." It occurred to him to change the subject before the subject matter turned into something he didn't want to deal with. "How's Jon? Last I heard he was in charge of three adolescent Hungarian Horntail purebreds… he hasn't been fried yet, has he?"

When Katherine didn't respond right away, he glanced at her. Her whole demeanor suddenly seemed very cold. "Not that I know of. Although I suppose there's always hope," she added sourly.

Charlie cringed. Well, that had been the wrong thing to say. Apparently talk of lovers- ex-lovers- was a taboo subject for both of them. How very refreshing. "Ouch. Sorry."

She snorted. "Don't be- I'm not." Charlie had to wonder at that a little. Katherine had been with Jon for a little under four years. "It was bound to happen sometime- arrogant, self-serving bastard."

He got the impression that she would have had to spit if she'd actually said his name. Her entire demeanor screamed for him to change the subject again. "You still haven't told me why you're in England. Frankly, this is the last place I expected to meet you."

"Don't I know it. Staying on the reserve was not an option after Jon… well, after Jon, anyway. But shortly after I gave my notice I received an owl from an old friend- I shouldn't say 'friend'; he's a right old bastard, he is- about a position opening in the British Ministry's Department of Magical Creatures, and here I am."

"I thought that you had to be British to get a job at the Ministry," Charlie said, confused.

"Dual citizenship," Katherine answered with a slight smile. "My father was- is- one of yours." There was that final tone in her voice again. Interesting, Charlie catalogued, another line of conversation she definitely didn't seem interested in pursuing. He wondered if it was at all possible that she was even pickier when it came to conversation than Anya was. But then, he hardly knew her as well as he knew Anya.

"Now there's something you wouldn't have admitted before," Charlie joked instead. "Half-Pom yourself, eh?" She made a face at him. "So where are we going?"

"You know, I was just about to ask you that same question. How about we find somewhere to wait out the rain before anything else?" Like it was preordained, a fat drop splattered on her nose. "Or before we get drenched, at the very least." With another crash of thunder, the clouds overhead opened up. Before either of them could move for cover, they were nearly soaked. Katherine didn't seem to be the least bit surprised. "Me and my big mouth."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "Way to go, Aeolos." The rain continued to pour down. "To the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked, pulling out his wand and casting a rather belated Waterproofing Charm.

"I'd race you," she said cynically, eyeing the crowd that was trying to push through the archway, possibly having forgotten that they had wands and magic powers, "But it might be counterproductive."

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "I'd say that's an understatement. You don't have a backup plan, do you?"

"Florian Fortescue's," Katherine responded immediately.

He blanched. "In the middle of December?"

"It's summer in Australia," she pointed out.

Shrugging, Charlie gestured off to his left. "Right then. Florian's it is."

The inside of the ice cream parlor was surprisingly warm and predictably empty. The only other patrons were two seemingly involved teenage boys that Charlie vaguely remembered from the blur that had been his life prior to the Christmas holidays. He had the feeling that one of them hadn't handed in the assignment that had been due before school broke up for the holidays, but wasn't about to raise the subject at that particular moment.

They ordered Butterbeer and ice cream sundaes and sat in a relatively dark corner of the parlor, not wanting to attract attention. Katherine sighed and tucked her feet under her, digging her spoon into her ice cream, and decided to ask the first question. "So what are you really doing here?"

Charlie shrugged, stalling to debate what he could tell her. "I guess you could say that I'm here because of Anya. I'm not sure I'd be here without her."

This seemed to surprise his companion a bit. "You are still in love with her," she said incredulously, wide-eyed.

"Oh, I don't know. I think the past tense might just be required in this case."

"So what happened?"

Charlie sighed. "I went off to teach for Dumbledore and- rather unwisely, I might add- fell for another professor, and Anya started sleeping with Sirius Black."

Katherine looked like she might be choking on her Butterbeer. "She what?!"

"Well, maybe that's a bit oversimplified." He attempted to condense three hours of explanation into a few sentences. "We've known that he is innocent for a few months longer than everyone else has. Harboring a fugitive is a dangerous business, but it's difficult to refuse when you're one of the few who know the truth about his innocence. Anyway, Chloë was having an affair with another teacher and that was basically the end of our relationship. Anya is with Sirius now and he's good for her." Charlie found that, while the words stung on the surface, deep down it felt surprisingly good to admit that.

"Ouch," Katherine observed, grimacing. "But at least it didn't take you four years to figure out you were in a relationship that meant nothing."

"Now I'm curious." Somehow he sensed that she was inviting him to ask questions, if he wanted to. "So what's your story? You hate Britain, or so I was led to believe."

"Here's a little secret for you, Charlie-" she leaned across the table, green eyes sparkling with an untold mystery. "We expatriates don't all dislike the country we live in as much as we make people believe. As far as living conditions, pay, and wizarding communities go, the U.K. is the place to be. It's mostly the weather that I despise."

"The truth comes out." Charlie sobered. "What about you and Jon?"

She let out a long breath. "I'm not really sure. It was as if one day I woke up and everything that had been my life for four years was worthless. I didn't even see what a bastard he was until that day- I still don't know how I could have been that blind. The fights we used to have! Vicious things, and afterwards it was like none of the horrible things we had said hurt anymore. That's not right, somehow. A lot of those things never should have been said in the first place."

"Tell me about it." It was more of a rhetorical comment than a demand for more information, but Katherine continued anyway.

"You know what he told me when we first got together?" she asked, scooping out a clump of fudge-drenched soft ice cream. Charlie shook his head. "He used to tell me that when we first met he wanted to take me places that he didn't know existed." She shrugged and shoveled the bite into her mouth. "A few weeks ago I told him not to bother because there's no such place."

Now it was Charlie's turn to wince. "You told him, all right. You fought often?"

"Oh, no. But when we did, well… even the dragons gave us space. The last straw was my father." Katherine trailed off and fixed her gaze to a scratch on the table that she apparently found particularly riveting. "You might as well know- he was- is- a convicted Death Eater who got set free. Jon didn't know about it- he can be so obstinate when it comes to things like that- but by chance when he did find out, he just couldn't let it go. He found out what schools I went to as a child and pretty much accused me of being a Dark Witch myself. That's basically the time I told him to take a long walk off a tall cliff."

"Well, obviously." Privately, Charlie wondered if he might have been so obtuse once upon a time. He hoped not, but there was the nagging voice of self-doubt that liked to put in appearances once in a while, especially after messy breakups…

"So what's teaching like?" Katherine changed the subject tactfully. "I have to admit, I would never have pegged you for the type, but I guess you're doing all right with it."

He smiled gratefully. "Well, four of my siblings are in my classes, so it gets a little informal at times, but I think that's probably best. And of course I can't teach everything I want to because half of the students would end up fried or trampled or hexed into oblivion, depending on whether I brought in manticores or dragons or dryads. It's only a temporary position, anyway- I'm going to apply for Auror training in February. I'll feel so much more useful."

Her eyes darted back and forth quickly and she leaned across the table again. "So You-Know-Who is back." She looked more determined than afraid, although not much.

Charlie nodded. "We think he made his comeback sometime this summer- around June or so."

"We?"

Mentally cursing himself, he replied, "I can't tell you, so please don't ask."

She shrugged. "Fair enough." She scraped the last traces of half-melted ice cream from the bowl and popped the spoon into her mouth. "Why Auror training, if you don't mind my asking?"

"My brother Percy is with the Ministry. If he's an example of a young bureaucrat, I want to stay as far away from bureaucracy as possible."

"Watch it," Katherine warned, "one of us is already working out of an office. Holding office, as a matter of fact, so please keep those comments to yourself. Even if I do share your opinion, I have got my pride to think about."

"Sorry," he grinned.

"No, you're not."

His grin grew. "You're right, I'm not sorry. Not even a little bit. In fact, the comment might have been deliberate. But you may never know."

"That's supposed to be my loss, is it?" Katherine challenged.

Charlie laughed. "Okay, you win. I was teasing you. Now I find that the tables have turned and I'm not quite sure what to do. Any ideas?"

"Admit defeat?" she suggested innocently.

"Consider this my white flag." Charlie tossed his napkin at her and finished his Butterbeer. "So what are you doing for Christmas this far from home?" If he was honest with himself, he was a little worried. He knew from his own experiences that Christmas could easily be the loneliest time of the year.

"Not much," was her evasive non-answer. He stayed quiet. "I don't have the time or the ambition to go home for the holidays, which explains my being here. I don't feel like dealing with my mother or my father at the moment."

"That much is understandable. Well, Anya and Sirius are throwing something of a Christmas Eve bash and you're welcome to join in. I'd hate to see all this," he gestured to the shopping bags, "go to waste."

Katherine smiled. "Thanks. I just might do that." She glanced down at her wrist. "Oh! Would you look at the time. I've got to run- I have another job interview at the Ministry that I forgot to cancel."

Following her eyes, Charlie found that it was well past the time he had meant to leave. "Anya's going to skin me alive if I don't bring her food soon. I'll owl you about the Christmas party tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded. "Bye, Charlie!"

They Disapparated with a double pop.

*

Christmas Day was an exciting time at Dromore House. The party the previous day had gone off without a hitch and everyone had fully enjoyed themselves, despite the dark specter of a cloud that seemed to be hanging over the collective head of the Order of the Phoenix. Christmas morning had dawned late for everyone, at least partially because of some residue of the amounts of alcohol that the house's occupants had consumed. Everyone was awake by mid-afternoon, however; the smells coming from the kitchen became too much to resist even though they had certainly eaten their fill the day before.

It was doubtful that Dromore House had ever seen a motley collection quite like the one that was there now. All of the Weasleys were in attendance, including Bill and Anne, who had been particularly reclusive of late (at least according to Molly). Remus, Sirius, Mundungus and Arabella were also there, having no family to speak of to spend Christmas with. Leon, having woken early, was toddling happily in the kitchen getting under everyone's feet and generally causing chaos.

"You know, although I'm sure he's got Quidditch potential, I sometimes wonder if he shouldn't be a Muggle track star." Anya turned away from her wand-waving to see Sirius standing in the doorway, an ironic smile upon his face.

"I think it's a little early to be deciding his future for him, don't you?" Anya teased, hiding a grin as her nephew screeched delightedly at Sirius' entrance and launched himself across the kitchen.

Arabella clucked from the table where she was slicing carrot sticks for the vegetable dip. "Sirius has had a future planned out for Leon since he set eyes on the lad. No pressure or anything, kid." Molly looked like she might be hiding a smile, but said nothing.

Leon just babbled on from Sirius' arms. "Turkey!" he shouted proudly. Sirius hung him upside-down by his ankles.

"He most certainly is," Anya agreed, setting down her wand. "I think that ought to about do it. Does someone want to call the masses?"

"I'll do it," Arabella volunteered, untying her apron strings.

Two minutes later they were sitting at the dinner table, which was laden down with all sorts of food they'd never eat. The table stretched the entire length of the dining room and had had to be magically enhanced so that everyone had enough elbow room. Everyone had given Leon a particularly wide berth after the previous evening's incident with the mashed potatoes. He had been insistent on re-mashing them and everyone within a four-foot radius of him had had to wash the potatoes out of their hair.

"Merry Christmas," someone said after a moment of silence. There was a chorus of agreement and a toast, and then the feast began.

*

Most of the unwrapping was done by nine-thirty, when Sirius was handed a mysterious small parcel from Anya. She had a knowing, self-satisfied grin on her face, and the light dancing in her eyes reminded him uncannily of one of the Seven. It was only a sealed envelope lined with bubble wrap, but then the gift he had gotten her didn't stick much to the impression the package gave.

He ripped the end off of the envelope and peered inside, then looked back up at Anya. "You have got to be kidding me."

She smirked. "Try me."

His mouth suddenly dry, Sirius glanced at Remus for support. Remus was wearing much the same expression that Anya was. Sirius glanced out the window. It was possible…

"Grab your jacket," he said, slipping the contents of the envelope into his pocket and going to the front entranceway. He snatched his jacket off of the coat rack and stepped onto the front porch, past the lawn gnomes. "Where?" he called over his shoulder at Anya, who was shrugging into her own coat.

"Stables," she answered, springing down the steps after him. The pale light of the half-moon cast her features in shadow and at the same time turned her skin unnaturally pale.

Sirius slipped his arm around her waist. "Lead the way."

Inside the stables, the air was considerably warmer than outside. Anya still kept a few horses, although she had little time for them these days, so it was heated. In one of the stalls was a long, lean shadow covered by a white sheet. Tentatively, Sirius reached over and pulled it off.

It was a black Harley Davidson exactly like the one he used to drive. "You weren't kidding," he breathed, reaching out a gloved hand and running it over the gauges. It was nearly a perfect copy, down to the customized grips on the handlebars. A hairline crack over the speedometer gave him pause. "This isn't-"

Anya squeezed his hand. "It is."

Sirius stared at his old motorcycle in disbelief. Dumbstruck, he could only ask, "How?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know someone in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Let's just say he owed me a favor."

"You're incredible," he murmured. He tore his eyes away from the bike and regarded her devilishly. He hadn't had much time to think about the time he used to spend with the machine and how much he missed it, but now that he had the chance… "Well? Don't you want to go for a ride?"

"After you, Mr. Black."

The wind was fierce, but the night was clear, and with the light of the moon one could see for miles from their vantage point, though there wasn't much to see except a few other rolling hills and a house or two. The two of them lie beneath a bare tree, enjoying a silence that did not need to be broken. After a while, Anya spoke. "So that's why it was in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department."

Sirius leaned over and kissed her forehead. "It's the only way to travel."

"Any other fun secrets you want to reveal while you're at it?"

He knew she was teasing, but she really had no idea… "Later," he whispered, winking. "Come on, let's go home. It's cold up here and I'm old." He offered her a hand up.

"I agree," she said, accepting his hand. She did not release him once she had stood. "With the possible exception of the old part."

"Flatterer," Sirius accused, leading her towards the motorcycle. He looked up at the sky before mounting, Anya snuggling close behind him. "Should we hurry? All the festivities will be over with and everyone might be sleeping by the time we get back."

"Let 'em sleep," Anya responded. Her arms tightened around his waist.

Although it was very cold outside, Sirius suddenly became very warm under the skin. "I guess we're taking the long way."

An indeterminate period of time later, he landed the motorbike back by the stables and took it inside. Rosy-cheeked and lighthearted, the two of them returned to a darkened house. The only light to speak of came from the Christmas tree in the sitting room in front of the piano. Someone, probably Remus, had already done away with all of the discarded wrapping paper. It almost looked like the day after Christmas, Sirius thought, but when he checked his watch he found that it was.

An apprehensive knot formed in his stomach. In the corner behind the Christmas tree stood one last gift, still wrapped. He used a Summoning Charm to maneuver it from its hiding place. Anya looked at it and laughed. The parcel was wider and taller than Sirius was. "It's not a cardboard facsimile of you, is it?"

"Even better." He smiled. "You'd better open it before Christmas is over. It just can't wait until next year."

"Certainly not," she agreed. Before long, she had the first layer of wrapping paper off and was staring doubtfully at the box. "A crib, eh? Optimistic, aren't we?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake. I found the box in the basement. Keep going."

Anya grinned smugly at him. He knew she'd been trying to provoke a response, but he was still jumping at shadows after everything that had happened and it was wreaking havoc on his psyche. She pulled the flaps of the box up with a little difficulty, but could not peer over them. "It's not breakable, is it?"

Sirius waved his wand at the box and a small door opened in the side. "That depends on your definition of 'breakable,' I suppose."

She surveyed the door with a small smile. "How old are you again? Four?" She dragged out another box from inside the larger one and settled into the armchair with it. "Am I going to be unwrapping until tomorrow?"

"Just a few more, I promise."

Once the paper was off of this one, only two small boxes remained, one rather larger than the other. "Which one do I open first?"

He pointed to the one on the left, so of course she started with the one on the right. He was glad he understood her so well. "Take my advice, why don't you," he said with a grin.

Anya stuck her tongue out at him, then finished unwrapping the gift. A palm-sized (the palm being Sirius', not Anya's) metal disc lay on her knees, glinting in the light from the Christmas tree. She looked as confused about it as he had been before Remus had explained it. "What is it?"

"It's a Magic Mirror," he replied from the floor by her feet.

She gave him a quizzical look. "What, like from Muggle fairy tales?"

"Closer to the Mirror of Erised, except it doesn't only show your heart's desire- it shows what you want to see." He smiled cheekily and winked. "It's bewitched."

Anya laughed. "I don't doubt it. Thank you, Sirius." She leaned down and kissed him softly and slowly on the lips, and Sirius was greatly tempted to make her forget all about the other gift- at least temporarily. But Anya, possessed of, at least for the moment, more restraint than he, broke the kiss again. "What's this, then?"

"How about you open it so I don't spoil the surprise?" Sirius teased. She was already delicately unwrapping the box.

She looked at it for a very long time before opening the lid, and the Magic Mirror flashed dangerously in her lap. Sirius knew that he was now doing a very poor job of hiding his anxiety and ceased to try.

Nevertheless, when Anya looked into the small box and saw the ring there, there was some surprise in her eyes. Rather too much, if Sirius was honest with himself. "I told you it was bewitched."

"Sirius…" She was barely breathing, her eyes like large pools of quicksand in the darkness, pulling him in. Sirius made no effort to stop them; they pulled him in all the faster.

"I wrote a speech, but it made me sound like Percy," Sirius confessed quietly, unable to look away.

She made a noise that sounded like a choked off laugh. "It can't have been that bad."

"It was," Sirius assured her. "Will you marry me anyway?"

Anya closed her eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger. "Yes."