Summary: Christmas Eve, candy canes; Remus and wrapping paper. What more could anyone wish for?
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended to JKR, Warner Bros, etc. "Santa Baby" song written by Joan Javitz, Philip Springer, and Tony Springer. The leg lamp reference is from A Christmas Story, and the crocheted blindfold I borrowed from Kerichi.
A/N: Written for Metamorficmoon's Advent, utilizing prompts: screaming yo-yo and candy canes.
This stemmed from a curiosity regarding candy canes across the pond. According to Wikipedia and a link on their site, Brits get to have much more fun with their version of the confection.

Rock On

Garland and tinsel adorned the dark, silent doorways of Grimmauld Place. Flickering candlelight made artificial snow glitter in the corners, while the scent of pine wafted faintly through the air. Flames crackled cheerfully in the fireplaces and the bells – which usually tinkled merrily when anyone passed by – had been silenced when the youngsters finally retired for the night.

Remus had ensconced himself in the drawing room wrapping gifts. A heavy-looking rectangular package sat at one corner of the table, ready to be sent to the foot of Harry's bed. Several other small gifts were stacked neatly alongside. Remus frowned at the last item, wondering if he ought to conjure a box for it.

"Professor Lupin?" A high, girlish voice called, spurring him to whip the sheet of paper around the object awkwardly, muttering sticking charms.

"Professor Lupin, are you in here?" This time the voice was accompanied by a soft knock and the creak of the door. "Oh, there you are. Sirius told me you might be in here."

"Why hello, Miss Tonks," he answered, stepping forward quickly to shield the misshapen item. "How can I help you this evening?"

"Just 'Tonks,'" she answered automatically, not even bothering with her usual glare. "Would you magic this up to Harry for me?" she asked, tilting her head and fluttering her lashes with saccharine sweetness as she offered a small gift-wrapped box. It was topped with a bright green ribbon that matched her hair – or more probably, that she'd matched her hair to. "With my luck, I'd poke him in the eye. I got him a – Oh wait, I don't want him to hear." She turned to shut the door with a soft snick. "Those kids with their Extendable Ears," she tsk'ed, tapping the doorknob with her wand and muttering an incantation for privacy. "I got him a miniature-"

Remus had silently followed her to the door and as she turned, the tip of her nose nearly grazed the front of his jumper. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he watched her face change from a mask of innocent schoolgirl earnestness to an expression altogether more bewitching. Her voice dropped an octave to a husky whisper. "I got him a miniature broomstick. D'you think he'll like it?"

"Nymphadora," he growled warningly.

"Whatever could be amiss, Professor Lupin?" she queried, her arms sneaking up to encircle his neck. "Doesn't everyone need a broomstick to play with?"

He frowned, but his arms looping around her waist belied his expression of irritation. "This is a diversionary tactic. I know why you're really here."

"Mm, do you now?" She rose on tiptoe, stretching her body against his. "Clever of you, as I've just told you."

He chuckled and caught her chin with his index finger, tipping her head back in a diversionary tactic of his own. "Look," he flicked his fingers at the high ceiling. "Mistletoe."

She squinted up before giving him a dubious look. "Are you sure? Looks more like mould. Good job you never taught Herbolo-" Her voice cut off in a shriek of laughter as she pulled her arms back to shield her head, ducking the attack of the leafy sprig.

"Stop it, you prat!" she yelped, swatting at the stem as it zoomed around, pointed directly towards her left ear. When it came at her a third time, she took aim and blasted it into a cloud of green flakes that drifted to the floor like snow.

"What was that?" She peered at the greenery suspiciously.

Remus's lips twitched. "I told you. 'Missile'-toe."

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "You're horrible."

"You're the one who came sneaking in here to peek at your present," he said reproachfully, tapping her nose.

"I did not!" she denied hotly, forcing her eyes away from the cheerful-looking packages on the table.

"No? Then why were you skulking around so late at night?" he challenged mildly, folding his arms as he moved to stay between her and the gifts.

Her arms slid up around his neck once more. "I was 'skulking around' looking for my Christmas Eve kisses," she said. "Hiding from the kids is fun, but is all this secrecy necessary? You're driving me mad with all this pretend platonic-ness. I just want to grab you and… Argh." She wound her fingers roughly in his hair, dragging him down to meet her frustrated, impatient lips.

He smirked against the intensity of her kisses and responded, lacing his fingers through her curls, murmuring between quick breaths, "How very… eloquent… of you."

"I've owled Mum," she said a few minutes later, pulling back a bit. "Told her I wouldn't be there tonight and I'd Apparate over in the morning instead." The corners of her lips twitched. "Told her something… came up." She smiled wickedly.

Remus chuckled, his hands sliding down her sides, pulling her closer. "If this is my Christmas present, I believe it fulfills the 'creativity' requirement you imposed on our exchange."

"Handmade," she quipped, her roaming fingers accenting her words, "with love."

"And I imagined you'd knit me a scarf," he said, feigning disappointment.

Tonks snorted. "I'd have strangled in my own purls."

She pushed away a step and reached into her pocket, pulling out a package that fit neatly on the palm of her hand. "However, I did manage to make this…"

Remus raised a brow. "Trying to entice me into exchanging gifts early?"

"Blatant temptress, aren't I?"

"I haven't even got yours wrapped properly. You interrupted me."

Her eyes lit up as they latched on the package on the table. "Really? I thought you'd wrapped it like that on purpose so I wouldn't feel bad about the crap wrap job I was bound to do on yours. I was going to give you extra points for being so considerate."

"What would I earn with extra points?" he asked interestedly.

"I haven't tallied them yet. Depends what's under the paper." She waggled her eyebrows and winked before tossing her package to him.

"You're such a prefect. Hiding to snog and worrying about points." She reached up to ruffle his hair. "Now open that thing so we can get to bed sometime tonight."

Remus absently straightened his hair as he considered her. With an exaggerated sigh of resignation, he began carefully prizing apart the edges of the Spellotaped paper. Tonks rolled her eyes and huffed with amused annoyance as she watched him painstakingly open the gift.

"A yo-yo!" he exclaimed delightedly when he'd got it unwrapped. "I haven't had one of these in years!" Flicking his wrist expertly he spun the wooden disk to the ground and back up. "I adore it. Thank you."

"Sirius told me it used to be a hobby of yours," she said brightly. "I carved the design and painted it, see?" She reached to point at the spirals on the sides, the grooves filled with vibrant rainbows of color.

Remus gave it another flick, noticing how the colors blended with the light brown shade of the wood to create a whirling kaleidoscope.

"You know the saying, 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If not, it was never meant to be.' Well, the yo-yo always comes back, you see?"

He raised a brow. "The message then, is that I will be eternally loved… by a yo-yo?"

Tonks glared. "Just spin it three times, smart arse."

Remus sniggered but followed her instructions. The third time the yo-yo returned to his waiting palm, he heard it whisper, "I love you, Remus."

"Variation on the screaming yo-yo," she grinned. "The twins put me onto it."

"I'll have to thank them tomorrow." Remus chuckled, pulling her into a one-armed hug while he admired his gift. "Did they tell you they mastered that spell while I was teaching? They'd stayed after class to clean up and we discussed how Zonko's yo-yos screamed like banshees. Before long, the school was inundated with yo-yos that –rather than mere screaming- shrieked obscenities as if they had contracted Muggle Tourette's Syndrome. I believe that's what led Filch to add yo-yos to his list of Forbidden Items this year."

Tonks gave him a calculating look. "And were you covering banshees in class, by some odd coincidence?"

"It's possible," he said, his expression angelic. "Impressive how they reinforced the lesson by applying their knowledge though, isn't it?"

"So my clever spell is merely a recycled prank that you sneakily got the twins to pull on Filch?"

"Oh no, they came up with the spell to add details to the shrieking entirely on their own," he denied. "And for you to have altered it to whisper endearments requires an even higher level of brilliance." He caught her chin and lightly touched her lips with his. "Thank you for such a perfect and thoughtful gift."

She grinned again, her eyes cutting significantly to the colourful, if ill-wrapped, gift on the table.

Remus frowned, his eyes following hers. "I would've liked to finish wrapping it…"

"What for? I'll just rip the paper off it anyway. It'll save us some time."

"Don't you want to savor the Christmas experience by opening your gift slowly?" he asked. "Why such a rush?"

"Oh, there'll be plenty of savoring later that I think you'll want time for," she said, tossing her green curls over her shoulder.

"You think you know just what to say to get your way with me, don't you."

She shrugged, her expression smug.

Remus mustered a glare nearly worthy of Snape.

Tonks sighed. "Fine. Finish your wrapping." She turned to face the door, grumbling good-naturedly.

"So what did you get for Sirius?" Remus asked conversationally from across the table, his voice raised over the crinkling of paper.

She snickered. "Well, you know how he says, 'Bring us back a stick of rock' every time I leave the house?"

"Mhmm."

"Well, this sweets vendor called Docwra's Rock Shop sells them in other shapes."

The crinkling paused.

"It was a toss-up, really," she continued. "They had baby dummy, big knocker and willy on a stick, but I finally settled on the lady's leg."

Remus chuckled and resumed wrapping.

"There was a one-legged woman at the shop who -I think- posed for it."

"Posed for the leg?" Remus queried as he wrapped. "A sweets model?"

"Mhmm," Tonks twisted her finger into a curl behind her ear. "Though I know sweets modeling is not her only profession. I don't know why she got tetchy when I asked what she charges for housecalls. Sirius would've loved to have her leg - and the rest of her - in his stocking tomorrow morning." She chortled. "He'll have to make do with just a candy leg this year, though. The way it sounded, she must have just finished posing for another body part, but they hadn't made any of those yet. Disappointing, as I rather wanted to tell Sirius to kiss my a-"

"Indeed," Remus interrupted reprovingly, rapping his wand against the box to seal the paper around a corner.

"I liked her outfit," said Tonks, who apparently didn't mind chatting up the door. "Looked a bit like this." She dropped her robes to the floor.

Remus's gift-wrapping brain cells scattered like pigeons in the park.

What very little fabric there was left very little to the imagination. It was red, snug in all the right places and seemed nearly transparent, other than strategically-positioned white fur trim that barely covered her curved rear.

"Came with this, too," she continued, her voice drifting through the hazy buzz in Remus's ears. He watched her bend to pick up the matching Father Christmas hat at her feet and straighten to settle it on her head.

"Anyway, I know that bit of eye candy is really a pole dancing stripper, but she said she didn't make housecalls and besides, she would be busy, dropping in on her friend Nick -or was it Jack?"

Tonks nattered on a bit and Remus hoped the information was inconsequential as he seemed to have completely lost track of the conversation.

With considerable difficulty, he tore his gaze away and tucked in another corner of the wrapping paper, foggily looking for the Spellotape, as he felt entirely incapable of stringing together the incantation for a sticking charm.

Seemingly of their own accord, his eyes drifted back to Tonks. Almost assuredly, the ringing in his ears could not be attributed to Christmas bells...

"Are you finished?" Tonks asked. "Only I haven't heard much paper rustling lately."

Startled into action, he tucked in the final corner and taped it down hastily. "Yes, you can turn around."

His eyes widened as she spun on a heel, causing the already-short skirt to twirl and lift even higher. A neckline that plunged to her navel did nothing to draw his attention up to the saucy grin that dimpled her cheeks.

Tonks's voice filtered through his ears. "She claimed it was a Santa's Helper suit, but it seems a bit chilly to wear up at the North Pole."

Remus had just reached that very same conclusion. In a more coherent state, he might've said it depended what Santa needed help doing, but he settled for simply pushing the neatly-wrapped parcel towards her. He hadn't quite got it all the way across the table, so she had to lean forward and reach a bit. The corner of his lips twitched as he allowed himself a small smirk of appreciation.

"Hmmm," she murmured, either not noticing or not minding where Remus's heated gaze roamed. Absorbed in the magic of an unopened gift, she slid her hands up and down the cylindrical package. "It doesn't seem to be a fruitcake."

"No," he agreed as he moved around the table, tucking his hands in his trouser pockets to keep them off the enticingly bare skin at her waist. "Entirely wrong shape."

"Not a scarf," she continued. "Nor a crocheted blindfold..."

Her fingers twitched, sliding under a layer of paper. She caught him with a narrow-eyed gaze. "It's not a fancy hairbrush, is it? A yo-yo is hardly a watch chain."

Remus shook his head. "I followed the rules. I made it myself and stayed well within spending limits."

"You'd better. Prefects have to follow the rules, you know, or they lose their extra points."

Remus lifted a brow and inclined his head at the package. "Now who is drawing out the gift-opening experience?"

Tonks gave him a sly, sidelong glance. "Bit keen, are we?"

She chuckled at the gleam in his eyes and hesitated for another split second before abandoning all pretense, shredding the wrap in a flurry of paper followed by exclamations of delight.

"Oh Remus!" she gasped, "You made this?" She held up something that looked like a large clear vase; narrower at top and bottom and filled with bright, swirling colours. "What's in it? How do I open it?"

Remus reached over and tapped the end with his wand, causing it to give off a romantic glow as she set it on the table. "It doesn't open. I got the idea from Muggle lava lamps.'"

"Ohh!" she cried delightedly, "Butterflies! The swirls turn into butterflies!"

"Brush-footed butterflies," he explained. "Also known as Nymphalidae. Amazing creatures. They seem so delicate and beautiful, but they are also incredibly resilient and resourceful."

Tonks smiled self-consciously, her fingers tracing the path of pink sliding up her cheeks as she stared, entranced, at the swirling and fluttering colours behind the glass. "It's fantastic, I absolutely love it," she murmured.

She turned then and leaped into his arms, knocking him backwards onto a conveniently-placed sofa. "And the lighting… really sets the mood, don't you think?"

"Indeed," he said, drawing a sharp breath as she settled into a more comfortable – or less comfortable, depending on definition - position against him.

"Oh look…" she slid a clasp of his robe open. "We still seem to have a bit of unwrapping to do."

Beyond resisting the impulse any longer, Remus slid warm hands under filmy red cloth. "Ladies first..."

"Ma'am! Please, you simply must come down! That is the North Pole pole!" A distraught elf wrung his hands as he addressed the unusual, exotic-looking woman perched high above his head.

"I've been an awfully good girl, Santa baby, hurry down the chimney tonight…"

"Well, ho ho ho!" Father Christmas approached, black eyes glittering as he watched the graceful woman twist and turn her way down; blonde curls obeying gravity though her body seemed immune. "Gil Pinkyhunk! My favorite one-legged, erm, entertainer. How absolutely splendid to see you! I don't suppose you're hoping to make my 'Naughty' list again this year?"

Gil gave another spin around the pole. "Oh Nick," she purred. "I'm so glad you don't have to live up to that 'Saint' reputation all year long."

Old 'Saint' Nick's twinkling gaze turned a bit piratical as he scanned her skimpy attire. "Yo ho ho, t'is a cold night tonight. What do you say to a nip of rum by morning light?"

"I'll have it hot and ready for you when you get back," Gil promised. She sent him a smouldering glance over her shoulder. "The rum, of course."

"Of course," he chortled, patting Vixen's rump affectionately.

He turned to regard his overloaded sleigh. "T'will be a long night, but anticipation will ease the effort."

"Remember that while you're kissing all those mums under the mistletoe," said Gil with a wink.

"I shall do my best," Santa inclined his head, his dimples flashing merrily.

"If you think of it, would you be a dear and see if Ralphie's father has lost his fascination with my lamp?"

"Gil…" Santa shook his head regretfully. "I do not think you'll be getting that back."

Gil sighed. "Ah well…" A wicked smile slid over her features. "Then just bring us back a stick of rock." She handed over a suspiciously rounded, wrapped confection. "And give this one to Nymphadora Tonks."