Remus was so focused on trying to keep Peter's latest betrayal from disturbing his equilibrium that he was completely unprepared for the questions that arose during the next meeting of the Order. He had kept the other members out of the house in order to avoid having to explain Alex – or her quite illicit status as an Animagus – however that meant that there were no other witnesses to back up his account of the events of the full moon. Even Moony's attack on the wall of the study could be attributed to the normal violence of his transformations, given the fact that someone had tampered with his Wolfsbane.

It was Severus' insistence that the tampering had occurred that persuaded the doubters, as no one believed the Potions Master would perjure himself to protect someone he so obviously despised. Still, the whole discussion left Remus feeling slightly ill.

"I've still got some of that brandy left," Bill suggested quietly, standing with him as the others filed out at the end of the meeting. Remus shook his head.

"I'm not sure I'd be very good company at the moment," he managed.

"All the more reason to come," Bill said firmly, slipping a hand under Remus' elbow and discreetly steering him out of the chair and toward the door.

Remus found himself sitting in Bill's flat working on what he suspected was not his first glass of brandy when he actually spoke aloud about the meeting.

"I should have been expecting this," he said painfully. Bill's eyebrows rose.

"Why? Because it happened the first time around, or because of the werewolf thing?"

Remus grimaced, and took a larger gulp of brandy than the fine vintage spirits deserved. "Both."

"We're going to make mistakes," Bill told him, setting his own glass down and leaning forward intently. "It would be lovely to think that we will always give each other exactly the trust we deserve, know the truth when we hear it, and figure out what it means in time to act, but it's not going to happen that way. With the best will in the world, we are going to bollocks it up."

"I'm not sure we can afford to," Remus countered unhappily. "There's too much at stake. If Voldemort wins – "

"He wins if we give up."

"How about if we stop trusting each other?"

Bill responded with the same gesture used to yield a point in a duel, and then picked up his glass again. "I am sorry this happened to you tonight." The regret in his voice was real, and eased Remus' discomfort enough to let him look at what had happened more objectively.

"Hestia didn't really mean anything by it," he mused aloud. "She and Sturgis were just frightened."

"And Moody's paranoia is a matter of professional pride," Bill added. "But that doesn't mean it's any less unpleasant when you're the focus."

Remus stared into his brandy snifter, swirling its contents thoughtfully. He hated the fact that he was starting to think differently about the other members of the Order – were their motivations what they appeared to be, or was one of them a traitor, trying to sow discord? With the benefit of hindsight, he could recall occasions when Peter had done this with unexpected subtlety. The amber liquid at the bottom of the glass caught his attention, and he abruptly set it down.

Bill shot him a look of inquiry, and Remus explained, "One thing I shouldn't be doing is letting this drive me to drink." Bill's lips quirked up.

"I really don't think you're in danger of drowning your sorrows in a bottle," he replied, with the first real humor to appear in his eyes all evening.

There had been a time when Remus would have thought the same thing about Sirius.

PQPQPQPQPQPQP

The brief tension between Harry and Ron had passed, although Ron did not volunteer anything about the letter or his unexpected desire to go home. While Ron certainly didn't owe him an explanation, Harry was still hurt that he didn't offer one. They were supposed to be best friends. Was Harry such a horrible person that Ron couldn't just walk up to him and tell him that he wanted to visit his family?

Harry saw Ron and Hermione off when the holiday arrived. Hermione had her trunk, but Ron was only carrying his knapsack.

"I'll be back very soon, Harry," Ron assured him. Harry shrugged with false indifference.

"If you don't make it back during the holidays, I suppose I'll see you when classes start up again," he said casually.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said reproachfully, just before she hugged him.

Ron lingered awkwardly for a moment before telling Harry, "See you soon, mate," with brisk cheer that rang falsely in Harry's ears.

"Yeah, soon," Harry managed, and turned abruptly to walk back to the tower.

Once he arrived, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. In earlier years, he had enjoyed the emptiness of the common room which gave even first years a chance to grab one of the best chairs by the fireplace. As Head Boy in his last year at the school, he didn't have the same difficulty, and the emptiness of the common room had lost its attraction.

After deciding that he didn't really want to go for a ride – or visit the prefects' bath – and that he was likely to be in a bad mood for a while, he finally hit upon the idea of getting some of his class work out of the way. His duties as Head Boy took up a surprising amount of time, and even he thought he had been scrimping on his assignments, often staying up late to pull them together the night before they were due. This wasn't going to hurt his marks directly, but it wasn't helping him prepare for his upcoming N.E.W.T.s, and those were important. He needed five E's to have a chance at being properly admitted for Auror training, and he was only planning to attempt six of them (Care of Magic Creatures, Charms, DADA, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration). It helped by cutting down on the number of classes, but it also meant that he couldn't afford to get less than an E on more than one of them. Without Ron – or anyone else – around to distract him, he could probably get a lot of revising done.

However miserable Harry was, Hermione would certainly be proud.

PQPQPQPQPQPQP

This year, Remus accepted the Weasleys' invitation to Christmas dinner.

He would happily have turned it down in favor of a private dinner with Alex, but he had made the mistake of inviting her to join him at the Weasleys. She had declined immediately, saying she was reluctant to intrude on a family celebration and had already made plans with Madame Marchbanks, and then the opportunity was lost. He knew Madame Marchbanks would have been happy for Alex to come – and the Weasleys would have been happy to invite the elderly examiner to join them – but he suspected that Alex was reluctant for other reasons as well. Many of the Weasleys were involved in the Order, whose members (other than Severus and Remus himself) she continued to avoid.

Her presence would certainly have sparked interest, however kindly meant, and he wondered if she felt that joining him on such an occasion would have been too public a statement that the two of them were a couple. If Alex had accepted, he knew that the Weasleys would have interpreted his request that way; it was largely why he was so certain they would grant it that he hadn't hesitated to make the suggestion to Alex before speaking to them.

Whatever her reasons for declining, he was spending Christmas Day without her, although she had promised to join him again on Boxing Day, which was some consolation.

Christmas dinner with the Weasleys was a lively meal. Remus was not the only guest; Charlie had brought along a friend from work who had no other holiday plans – and Bill had brought Fleur.

Everyone tried politely to pretend that Fleur's presence had no more significance than that of Remus, or Charlie's friend, Geoff. Ginny had come home for the holidays – Remus noted that she had chosen not to stay at Hogwarts but did not speak of it – which meant that Arthur and Molly had almost all of their children home with them. Percy had accepted an invitation to stay elsewhere – Radford was rather well placed in the Ministry – instead of spending the time with his family, but Arthur and Molly accepted this with apparent equanimity, evidently not expecting Percy to prefer the company of his family and friends to that of a contact who might be useful in advancing his career.

Some part of Remus wished he could somehow make Percy see how precious this time was – Molly's Boggart-revealed fears were all too realistic, for there was every possibility that at least one of the Weasleys already a member of the Order would be killed. They had managed to save Molly, he reminded himself firmly, and when the time came, they would find a way to save Ginny as well. But none of that meant that all the others were safe, or even that Molly and Ginny would be.

If there had been a way to convince Percy that he needed to take better care of his family while he had them, Remus would have taken it – but in light of some of the things Percy had once said to him (which Remus intended to remain forever unknown to any member of Percy's family), Remus didn't think any words of his were likely to be effective in persuading Percy of – well, anything.

Remus was very pleased when Alex arrived early on Boxing Day morning, carrying a large bag in addition to a small piece of hand luggage. Instead of her pink scarf set, she was wearing a new one of deep crimson and blue. He relieved her of her bags, immediately set them down and got the door closed so he could greet her properly.

"Happy Christmas," he said after a satisfactory interval. Then he kissed her again. "And happy anniversary." He could feel her smiling as she returned his kiss.

"I didn't know first dates had anniversaries," she teased.

"They do if they're special," he countered. "New?" he asked, tracing a finger along the hand knit scarf.

"Mmm-hmm. Madame Marchbanks gave it to me for Christmas. I think she may have sent you one too. Along with a great deal of food."

"Is that what's in the big bag?"

"And your Christmas present." Alex looked unaccountably nervous now, and Remus decided to change the subject.

"Why don't I take your bag up?" he suggested thoughtlessly, then stopped himself before he picked it up.

"Thanks," Alex replied, divesting herself of her outerwear. She noticed that he hadn't moved and glanced at him in inquiry as she folded her scarf and set it down. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just –" Remus took a deep breath. "I just wondered where you would like to stay." Alex was looking puzzled. "I mean, in what room. For sleeping, that is." Her expression changed then, and he cursed himself for making a hash of it. Sleeping together was a different intimacy than, well, "sleeping together," but maybe he was just a little too conscious of the fact that he tended to get the first as a result of the second – or perhaps the fact that she had declined the invitation for Christmas Day itself had made him overly sensitive.

"Anywhere is fine," she said, very neutrally.

"No, I didn't mean –" he ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Alex, I want you with me," he declared firmly, refusing to allow her to avoid his eyes, "whether or not we make love, which I certainly hope we will. But I'm trying not to make any assumptions here, and I want you to be comfortable, so I was just asking how I could do that. Make you comfortable, I mean."

Alex looked at him a bit tentatively. "You should be comfortable as well," she said at last. "Would you be more comfortable if I –"

"Stayed with me."

Remus waited until she nodded before he picked up her bag and carried it up to his room, concern over his misstep clouding his pleasure in the task. As often as Alex had spent the night with him, she had never brought anything with her, never assumed that her things might have a place with his – never left so much as a toothbrush to mark her presence.

Sentimental idiot, he chided himself silently, but with a touch of humor. Getting maudlin over the prospect of a union of the toiletries!

When he returned to the kitchen, he was relieved to see that Alex had been putting the food from Madame Marchbanks away, and the momentary awkwardness between them seemed to have passed.

"I think she sent enough for a house party," Alex commented, handing him a loaf of tightly sealed bread. The moon was well past, so he was without the full benefit of his enhanced senses.

"Cranberry?" he guessed.

"With nuts," she confirmed, adding the last of the food to the pantry.

There were two packages still on the table, the smaller of which looked like a Christmas cracker – albeit an engorged one – while the larger was rectangular and fairly flat. "The red and green one is from Madame Marchbanks," Alex explained, meaning that the big flattish one was from her.

Remus wondered vaguely what sort of a book she had chosen for him that was so large and still fairly thin as he suggested, "Why don't we go into the study?" He was anxious to see Alex's reaction to his gift.

He had to wait a little, as Alex laughingly insisted that he at least open Madame Marchbanks present first. It proved to be a scarf and cap, beautifully hand knit in the same crimson and blue wool as Alex's, and he silently thanked her for her unspoken encouragement in giving him a set that matched Alex's.

"Now open mine," Remus asked, handing her the carefully wrapped box expectantly. Alex removed the paper and ribbon, revealing – The Settlers of Cataan?

Alex blinked for a moment.

Then one of the figures on the cover – a gray-bearded man in blue – turned around to look at her. "Well, open us up," he prodded, and Alex's jaw dropped.

Remus felt an enormous grin spreading across his face as he watched her reaction. Her eyes had gone wide.

"Remus, what did you do?" she asked.

"Look and see," he suggested, beaming at her.

Her reaction, when she did, was everything he had hoped for.

Alex was enchanted by the terrain tiles – instead of a picture of a mountain, a miniature mountain popped out of the hexagonal tile when it was set in place. Moreover, the tiles were not only enchanted individually, but also responded to the tiles around them; the mountains formed ranges, or transitioned smoothly into hills, or forest, or whatever was adjacent. Road pieces were absorbed into the tiles when played so that they looked like real carriageways – with a stripe of the appropriate player's color – and the soldiers marched along them with an audible tramping sound. When a player rolled for resource production, the game actually produced a resource – for example, a tiny shepherd appeared in the hills, rounded up the sheep, sheared them, and sent the wool to the player – rather than merely allowing the player to take a card of the correct color. The required resources came together to form improvements, and Alex's awe as she watched the formation of a settlement made all the hours of charm work well worth it for Remus.

"I can't believe it," Alex kept repeating as she marveled at each new discovery.

"Wait 'til you see the robber in action," Remus boasted, well pleased. "I modeled him after Sir Cadogan!" Alex laughed, as he had intended her to.

"Remus, I don't know how to thank you – this is wonderful," she said, her eyes glowing as she leaned over for a brief, but tender kiss.

"I'm glad you liked it. Shall we have a game?" he suggested eagerly.

Alex cast a longing glance at the enchanted game, but demurred. "After you open your other present."

Remus had almost forgotten Alex's gift in his delight at her apparent pleasure in the game, but he nodded obligingly and set about unwrapping the large, flat box. As he pulled the last layer of paper away and saw what she had given him, he felt tears spring to his eyes.

Oh, my god!

He stared in shock at the painting.

Moony was in the clearing just outside the whomping willow, with the castle clearly visible in the distance. He was flanked by Padfoot and Prongs, and Remus was unaware of the tears slipping down his cheeks until Alex spoke.

"Remus, I'm so sorry," she was apologizing, sounding rather horrified by his reaction to her gift. "I never meant to –"

"Don't," he managed through the lump in his throat, reaching out with one arm to pull her against him, unable to lift his eyes from the sight before him. Padfoot had called Moony to play, and he watched his wolf feint playfully to the left before bounding past the big black dog on the right.

"I'll get you something else," Alex promised anxiously. "I should never have presumed –"

"I'm not sad, Alex," he tried to explain. He pulled her all the way into a hug, setting the picture down on the coffee table and continuing to stare at it over Alex's shoulder. "It's just the most perfect gift I could have imagined – except that I couldn't have imagined it. And you did. And you have no idea what that means to me." Alex was pulling back from him, trying to get a better look at him as if this would help her understand. He drew his eyes away from the painting long enough to let her search them. Some of her tension eased, although she still looked quite shaken.

"You're not – upset?" she asked dubiously.

"On my honor as a Marauder," he promised, then he kissed her again, trying to put everything he was feeling into the tender caress of his lips. He could feel her relaxing against him, and she looked much better when he finally raised his head.

"I'm sorry, I thought – you just –"

"You're not used to your gifts reducing the recipients to tears?" he posited.

"Something like that," she admitted, looking nervous again. "You haven't quite seen all of it yet." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she gestured back to the painting with her eyes. "It's the same passwords as the map."

Remus pulled out his wand with a sense of anticipation. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he intoned, tapping the painting.

Nothing happened.

"You just made it like it was," Alex explained.

"Mischief managed?" he ventured, trying again, and the painted figures changed from their animal forms into human ones as the moonlight changed to sunlight. From the way Peter appeared at the corner of the canvas near a convenient bush, Remus gathered that Wormtail had been present in the first view, even if he had originally gone unnoticed.

"It's more like an animated Muggle painting than a real wizarding one, I'm afraid," Alex was telling him apologetically – and unnecessarily. Real wizarding portraits required live models at some point in the process to use the fullest extent of the charm. "And I wasn't sure whether to include Peter, but I thought –"

"He was part of us then, and he should be there," Remus told her absently, watching teenage forms of James and Sirius make faces at each other. "You did just right." He was still marveling at what a thoughtful gift she had given him – and enjoying the feel of her warmth tucked safely within his arms – when another thought occurred to him.

"How did you do it?" he asked suddenly. "You've never seen us like that."

"Hermione," she said immediately. "She borrowed pictures from Harry for the human part, and she'd seen three of your alternate forms. The only one we were worried about was James' stag – she knew the shape and size from Harry's Patronus, but we had to guess on the coloring. The artist will fix it if you tell him what it's supposed to look like – his shop is in Hogsmeade, and it's already taken care of, you just have to bring it by – but I couldn't think of any way to find out without asking you, so we just had him guess to start with."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Remus chanted almost absently, more interested in studying Prongs when the stag reappeared in the moonlight. "It's really pretty close," he said reflectively. "There was a bit of white just there," he told her, pointing, "and another there, near where Harry's scar would be. I don't think I ever thought about that before." He nuzzled her a bit closer.

"Thank you for bringing them back to me."