Chapter Two:

First and foremost, a huge thank-you to my first reviewer! Haha, so exciting! Ems 25, thanks for the advice and the review, I'm glad you liked it.

Just to clear things up, I know it's irritating when people change the books' storyline, but let's just say the Yule Ball is New Year's Eve instead of Christmas, for the sake of the story. This way, they can all retreat to the Weasley's for a while. I would have done fifth year, but I needed Remus to have his first Christmas with one of his best friends, so again, sorry for the inconvenience, but here's chapter two!

Sirius woke with a start, his chest heaving heavily as he fought for breath.

No, he reminded himself with a shake of his head. Only a dream, only a nightmare. Just another God-damned nightmare. His head fell back against the pillow with a whumph, and for a moment he forgot why he was even sleeping with a pillow. Pillows, blankets, warmth, those were all dead and gone. They belonged to the Old Days, or as Sirius liked to refer to them as, the Golden Days. The days when he was looking over his shoulder at his friends, instead of making sure no Ministry officials were behind him.

"Sirius?"

Again, the man jumped, nearly falling off the couch as he scrambled to his feet. In the gloom of very early morning, it was only by Tonk's wandlight that he able to recognize his cousin.

"Morning," he grunted, casually placing his wand in his pocket. "What time is it?"

"'Round six, I'd reckon. I just got a call from the Ministry, some trouble with the Macnair's. Whoo hoo." Tonks waved her hands in mock excitement, accidentally hitting the Weasley Grandfather Clock and knocking it into Sirius.

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to, stupid clock was in the way-"

"It's fine, Nymphie." Sirius smirked, trying to brush away the fact that his distinctly shorter cousin had to help him push the old clock to it's original place. Tonks shot him a look.

"Nymphie?"

The man shrugged, turning his back to walk casually around the room. "Well, 'Nymphadora' is kind of a mouthful, and everyone else calls you 'Tonks.'"

"What's wrong with 'Tonks?'"

Sirius rolled his eyes when he could be sure that she couldn't see. Girls. Always so touchy about what you called them.

"Nothing, but 'Nymphie' is easier to remember, and I think it adds character. You've got two names now, names add personality."

Sirius glanced back at the witch, fully prepared to whip out his wand and set up a shield between himself and the newly dubbed 'Nymphie,' but was pleasantly surprised to see her smiling.

"No!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I like it-strangely enough-but only you can call me that. Permission to hex anyone else?"

Sirius barked a laugh, nodding, even as Tonks glanced at her watch and swore quietly. She nodded to the man, proceeded to trip over the carpeting, and hurried out the door.

"Bye, Nymphie!" Sirius waved, just as the witch apparated, and if he hadn't been after first meeting his cousin at dinner the night before, was incredibly relieved that the whole of his family wasn't crazy. It was, all in all, a reassuring thought.

*******

"Happy Christmas, Padfoot!"

Sirius did not seem to be having the best of mornings when he had been dreaming of sleeping in, and he nearly fell off the couch all over again on his quest for his wand and to hex the closest person who was probably trying to throw him in jail-

"Remus." He collapsed back on the couch with a heavy sigh. "Don't do that, you sentimental old fool." In truth, the grown man was no different from the patchy teen who had thrown textbooks at his friend's heads until they had woken up in Christmas's past. Maybe a little ragged, tonight was the full moon, but definitely the same kid.

"I take that as a compliment." The werewolf grinned, refusing to let Sirius dampen his mood. "You know where Tonks-"

"Nymphie's away on Ministry business."

Remus didn't comment on the new name, remembering with a sad smile Sirius' talent for interesting nicknames.

"By the way, don't call her that." He stretched, looking distinctly dog-like for a moment as he shook his head to rid himself of his weariness. "I'm the only one with permission. Is everyone else…?"

"Everyone but Bill, but I think Ginny was planning on setting off a Sneakoscope in his room…" Remus grinned, not even noticing how Sirius and he seemed to finish each other's sentences. Then, both men pricked their extra-keen ears as a high pitched keen seemed to echo around the house, followed by laughter and rather loud cursing. There was a clatter from the kitchen, in which both the friends stifled laughter, and a sudden shout from Mrs. Weasley that could undoubtedly be heard by the muggles across the fields.

"William Henry Weasley!" She shrieked, oblivious to Remus as he took a seat at the table and Sirius as he hovered, uncomfortable, in the doorway. "Does it not occur to you that there are impressionable children in this household? Your sister is thirteen years old and should not be subjected to such language! I heard that, Ronald, you just shut your mouth and be glad you have guests so I can't shut it for you!"

Harry and Hermione both attempted to pull sweatshirts over their heads to hide their laughter as Ron's ears turned pink and Bill stamped into the kitchen with Ginny in a headlock. Their mother seemed completely oblivious to everyone else's amusement and nearly ripped her daughter in half trying to release her from her older brother.

"Really," she huffed, once the pair was seated at the table. "I reckon Sirius would rather be outside than with this Azkaban comparison."

Sirius glanced out the window, where the wind was still blowing fiercely, whipping the snow around the Burrow in a miniature tornado of sorts. He shrugged, grinning.

"Nah, it's too cold out there. Besides, this is nothing. No death threats before dinner? 'Family time' must have lost it's meaning while I've been away. Whatever happened to insulting filthy blood traitors and lighting worship candles for Voldemort?" Then, as an after thought at Mrs. Weasley's expression, the only one not amused, "I was kidding about the worship candles. My mother reserved those for herself."

"Or baby Regulus." Remus reminded him lightly, gesturing to the empty chair next to Harry.

"Wait-you're serious?" Hermione's eyes bugged out as she imagined the heinous event that family dinners must have been.

"Yes. Sirius. Sirius Black."

"That was a really bad joke."

Sirius glanced at Fred, eyes alight with amusement. "I'm allowed bad jokes-it's my name."

"Lucky." George muttered mutinously. "My name is so boring, all I can do is pretend to be that actor George Clooney or whatever. I think we should form a club for bad jokes about names. Anyway, you were telling the truth about your dinners?"

Sirius nodded, after high fiving George across the table. "Well," he began. "Our dinners would usually start with mother dearest yelling up the stairs, for me to come down out of the 'dark, blood traitor abyss.' We would then proceed to get into a fight, usually involving wands and choice swear words, on the steps leading up to my dark, blood traitor abyss. Eventually, our nut job house elf, Kreacher, would serve us, and sneeze in my plate for his 'dear mistress. Poor, poor mistress, suffering with the misfortune of her despicable son.'" Sirius imitated a high, wheezing voice, sounding distinctively like a basilisk with a head cold.

"Then, Regulus will announce all the wonderful things the Death Eaters have been up to, even before he was inducted. The kid was a maniac, his wallpaper was literally clippings about Death Eaters and such… one time he asked me if I would help him convince our mother to let him get a tattoo of the Dark Mark on his back-"

"How thick can you get?" Bill muttered, shaking his head as he listened in. "What if he was accused? He would have been sent straight to Azkaban."

Sirius glanced at him over a piece of toast. "He didn't need the tattoo," he reminded the Gringotts wizard. "He, not to mention everyone in my direct family and most of my indirect family was in Slytherin, minus myself." Sirius began ticking off his fingers. "His room, the tendency to refer to Volde-sorry, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as 'the Dark Lord,' and the rest of my family's infatuation with him was enough proof to be set on trial. Then, of course, he eventually got the real mark, and those aren't exactly given away, are they?"

"And I thought I had crazy relatives." Harry grinned at his godfather, who laughed quietly in return. Of course, judging from what he had heard about the Black family tree, he could almost say that he preferred the Dursleys, which seemed a prediction appropriate of Professor Trelawney.

Breakfast was a hurried affair, despite the overall comfort it provided for everyone. Harry tried to ignore the over concerned looks he continued to receive from the elder Weasleys, and instead looked at his plate as Charlie gave Sirius and Remus a blow-by-blow account of the First Task. Finally, though, just as they got to the part about the egg, Hermione insisted that she was tired of the Triwizard Tournament and that they 'give it all a rest already!' Which was completely fine with Harry, already his stomach had begun to churn with the thought of the Second Task.

After the ceremonious unwrapping of the presents, in which Harry swore quietly and bolted upstairs to the attic to snatch Hedwig and a lumpy package wrapped in the most absurd wrapping paper anyone in the room had ever seen ("It's for Dobby." Harry explained. "I forgot to give this to him before we left.") Arthur Weasley confessed rather guiltily to the fact that he actually had to work. He shook Sirius' hand, expressing pleasure at finally meeting him after hearing so much, to which Sirius barked a laugh. At that, the older Weasley sons decided that if they were to stay on vacation, they should at least get a bit of work done, so they retreated to Percy's room for Bill to work on a code he had found in Egpyt and Charlie to sign some forms for the Department for the Regulation and Contol of Magical Creatures.

"Hermione?" Ginny looked up from a new leather-bound book, already on chapter three. The book, a collection of Muggle fairy tales that she had pounced on Hermione for, had surprised nearly everyone. Ginny had a strange adoration for the sometimes-twisted plots Muggles came up with, and Hermione had nearly purred after seeing how much she loved the book. Now, though, the fourth year's smile dimmed as she Ginny looked up at her with puppy eyes.

"Yes?" She asked warily, checking quickly to see if her wand was in it's usual place in her pocket.

"I want to teach you how to ride a broom."

"That'll be the day." Ron sniggered. "The day Hermione rides a broom."

"That was uncalled for." She snapped, threatening him with her new encyclopedia on plant life and their medical uses, courtesy of Harry. Wisely, he raised his hands in surrender and backed away.

"Should I be concerned?" Sirius muttered to Harry, examining a brightly colored box given to him by the twins. "Judging how they came across the map in first year… we didn't even complete that until third!"

"Yes."

"Should I feed one to Remus?"

Harry hesitated, glancing at his former professor and back at his godfather. He had to remind himself that he wasn't the one giving Lupin a canary cream, that it would be his fellow partner in crime.

Therefore, he felt only a little shame in answering "yes."

"Remus, old fellow!" Sirius grinned jumping up from the couch to his friend at the window. "Try one of these-they're brilliant!"

Harry, George and Fred watched in barely contained eagerness as their old professor eyed Sirius warily and sniffed the cream.

"I'm worried this will be a source of amusement." He intoned dryly, placing it back in Sirius' palm. "But thank you for your concern."

Sirius, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins found, was much better at the puppy-dog-pleading look then Ginny. Lupin sighed heavily, took the cream back, glared at Sirius, but choked down the treat.

Five minutes later, Sirius and Remus still found the joke amusing, even if Molly Weasley stormed in and asked them with a tone as cold as the snow to clean up the feathers.

"I never thought I'd say this," she muttered, glancing contemptuously out the window that Remus had been standing by only moments before. "But I wish it would stop snowing, you could all go kill each other outside. At least the owls can still fly, Daily Prophet's on the coffee table if any of you are interested."

"Hm," George shoved the torn paper aside to find the Prophet buried deep. He proceeded to flip it open, searching intently through the pages. "Ah," he sighed heavily. "Poor Perc. Apparently people don't care that much about melting cauldron bottoms, he swore it would be in the Christmas addition. Oh-" the joking smile vanished, replaced by an unusual frown and a muttered word that would have given him his own cell in Azkaban had it been his mother's choice.

"What is it?" Lupin had paled even further, thanks to George's words and the full moon being that night. "Death Eaters again? Maybe the Quidditch World Cup-"

"It has something to do with Harry." Ginny was peering over George's shoulder, unnoticed until she spoke.

Harry sighed heavily, only bothering to bang his head once on the coffee table. "It's Skeeter, isn't it?"

"No." George answered immediately, trying to keep it out of Harry's reach, but Ginny snatched the paper with surprising skill, reminding Harry of a Seeker, folded it into a paper airplane, and sailed it over to Harry. After spending a few moments scanning the article, he glanced at Hermione, who had been diligently editing some mistakes in a Potions essay of Ginny's.

"You all sure you want to stay here while I'm in here? Apparently I'm a hopeless case refusing to be admitted to Saint Mungo's for over-egotistic tendencies, an inability to remember details like when I submitted my name to the Goblet of Fire, and 'severe addling to brain tissue.' Can I borrow that quill, Hermione?"

"We always knew your brain tissue was addled." Ron snorted. "We didn't need her to tell us that."

"Why?" But Hermione handed it over, along with a jar of ink, and Harry spread the large article out across the floor. He took the sheet with a winking Rita Skeeter, flashing her golden teeth for the camera, dipped Hermione's quill in the ink, and began to draw.

"What on earth are you doing?" She asked sharply as she watched him ink out parts of the picture. "You better not be wasting-"

"I'm being childish and drawing on the old cow's face. Any suggestions?"

"Off-center nose." Ron piped up at once, hurrying over to watch Harry.

"Medusa hair, with snakes." Suggested Hermione eagerly.

"Double chin." Added Sirius. "Greasy hair and fangs."

"Make her toothless, except for the two fangs." Ginny pointed at her overexposed teeth. "And give her a dunce cap."

"Claws for fingernails." Fred made sure Harry inked them in with a grin. "I find them quite a turn off, don't you?"

"Too much makeup."

"I don't know how to draw makeup, Fred." Harry glanced at him. "Surprising, I know…"

"Judging by this you don't know how to draw decent claws either." Ginny nudged him, grabbing the quill. "Shove over."

"Bat wings." Harry reminded her, looking over her shoulder. "With big ugly tears, since she would hate being a half breed or something."

"And antennae!"

They all turned to look at the werewolf, who had, up until then, been silent.

"What?" He asked self-consciously. "You can hardly expect her to be some sort of half-bug creature without antennae and enormous eyes, and if you're doing that you might as well put feelers on her legs."

"I always knew you should have been in Ravenclaw." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Only you would remember bug anatomy while vandalizing dear old Rita."

Ten minutes later, when Hermione had jinxed the drawing to look disturbingly realistic, Harry leaned back in satisfaction.

"I dub her 'The Reporter Who Suffered at the Hands of Her Readers and had to Spend the Rest of Her Life in…'"

"'The Reporter Who Suffered at the Hands of Her Readers and had to Spend the Rest of Her Life in an Italian Restaurant Scaring Customers With Her Beetle-like Tendencies.'" Hermione finished proudly. "A bit longer than 'The Boy Who Lived' which I think is what you were going for, Harry, but we could call her RWSHHRSRHLIRSCWHBT. Maybe we could even make-"

"No badges!" Harry and Ron announced immediately, earning a glare.

"I was going to say nametags. You know, the ones that say 'Hello, my name is…'"

"I wrote it down under the photo." Ginny grinned, holding it up for all eight of them to admire their handiwork. "I think we need a frame."