Christmas Eve. A night which, for almost sixteen years, I had dreaded. When the full moon fell on December the twenty-fourth, I was generally grateful as opposed to dismayed. In my wolf form, I was able to forget everything human about the night and get out of my own mind for a while. Consequently, on Christmas Day, I would be far too tired and weak to do anything but sleep and up until a few years ago, that arrangement had been most welcome. The year I taught at Hogwarts had followed that exact pattern and although I regretted being unable to attend the feast in the Great Hall, I had been dreading the idea of having to pretend to be enjoying myself with the few students who had stayed behind over the holidays, just as Sirius and I had during our schooldays.

The following Christmas had been less of an unwelcome occasion, as I had been able to spend it with Sirius. Despite the fact that the festivities had taken place in a small cave, just outside of Hogsmeade, I had been able to bring enough food, including Honeydukes chocolate and Firewhisky, to make the day more memorable than any Christmas I had experienced since my schooldays. I would have invited Sirius to my home but I suspected that the Ministry might be keeping a close watch on my property over Christmas, considering their knowledge of my friendship with Sirius, who although free was still being hunted by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. After persuasion from Sirius, I had agreed to meet him but would not allow him to risk visiting me. Dumbledore would not have been pleased if we had acted so carelessly.

I had been almost as pleased as Sirius when Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys and a few other members of the Order had ended up at Grimmauld Place over the holidays the following year. I had not been looking forward to another solitary Christmas without the full moon to distract me and I knew that Sirius had been dreading the day even more, knowing that he would be stuck in his parents' house alone. For two years, Christmas had not been the dismal occasion which I had become accustomed to ever since leaving school and living under the threat of the Death Eaters. I had started to enjoy myself, surrounded by friends and although the carefree Christmases of the past would never be fully recreated, I was finally able to enjoy what I had. That year, two weeks from the full moon, I was in the best mood that I would be all month. During those years however, I was thrown into a false sense of security.

I should have known that considering the constant threat on all of our lives, that my festive happiness would be short-lived. By the time the next Christmas came around, I was on my own again and in a worse position than I had been for sixteen years. Not only was I by myself once again, but I had tasted the thrill of celebrating with the Order, with my friends and it had been cruelly snatched after the death of my closest friend. Sirius. Molly had insisted that I join them for the Christmas holidays after that but I only agreed once I heard that Tonks was not going to be visiting at the same time. Selfishly, I didn't want to give myself anymore reason to dread the holidays and her presence was likely to make things very awkward between us, since she'd opened up to me after the events in June. I realised that Molly was desperately trying to change my mind about what I'd told Tonks but I was far too absorbed in the fight against the Death Eaters and in my own problems to burden anyone else. I had told Tonks just as much and we'd hardly spoken since.

So, as Celestina Warbeck warbled in the background, I sat in the Weasleys' living room, staring into space, trying and failing not to think about all the Christmases that had passed. It did not help that the crackling of the fire exactly resembled that of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, as I had sat beside it with my true friends, all those years ago.

"Cheers, mate," Sirius said as he caught the small, badly-wrapped, square package that James had thrown at him.

"Nice wrapping," I pointed out. James rolled his eyes.

"It just gets ripped open anyway. I don't generally bother with the paper." I laughed.

"The present you gave to Lily Evans looked a lot neater than that," I commented. Sirius smirked and James looked slightly embarrassed.

"Yeah...I just used a spell or two on that," he muttered. Sirius roared with laughter.

"She'll probably just send it straight back, Prongs." It was James's turn to smirk.

"She doesn't know who it's from. I just put it under the Christmas tree and gave her friend Alice two galleons to draw Lily's attention to it." I nodded with a smile.

"It sounds like a good plan."

Sirius pulled the paper apart and grinned when he saw what was inside. I leaned over to glance.

"Excellent present, Prongs. I'm sure he'll get a lot of use out of that." James laughed as Sirius held up a small mirror.

"I'm not that vain!" he pouted.

"I disagree," James told him. "But there is actually another use for this particular mirror, other than admiring your own face."

"What's that?" James rummaged in the pocket of his robes and pulled out an identical mirror.

"They're a pair," he told Sirius. "You say my name and I'll appear in your mirror and vice versa. Then we can talk."

"Cool," Sirius replied, impressed as he turned the small object over in his hands. "Thanks, Prongs." James nodded.

"Well, when you were stuck in the dungeons last month cleaning out spare cauldrons for Slughorn and Filch had me polishing silver stuff in the Trophy Room, the thought just occurred to me. Wouldn't it alleviate the boredom if we had someone else to chat to?" Sirius nodded, smirking and I laughed again.

"Nice idea," I told him "Although I can't wait to see Lily's face if she spots you with a mirror. She already thinks you're arrogant enough." James shrugged.

"She'll come round eventually." James turned to me. "Anyway, this one's for you, Moony."

"It's from both of us," Sirius explained, handing me a huge rectangular box, wrapped with red and gold paper, Gryffindor colours.

"They actually wrapped it at the store," James grinned. "I didn't think you'd appreciate our feeble attempts." Grinning back, I took the heavy box.

"Thanks for that thought," I told them, as I began to tear slowly at the paper. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Moony, just rip it! The suspense is killing me!"

"I remember you drooling over these at Flourish and Blotts last summer," James explained. "Just promise me that you won't disappear with these for the rest of the holidays. We've got a festive prank to pull later and we're going to need your assistance."

But the last part of James's sentence was lost as I gazed at the set of books which had captured my attention for at least half an hour when I had first spotted them in the shop.

"Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts", I read along the spine of the first book in the set. "That's brilliant!" I eagerly opened the book at a random page and my excitement was clearly evident in my expression. Both James and Sirius rolled their eyes.

"I knew he'd dive straight into the books," James said affectionately. "We should have waited until after the prank." I reluctantly lifted my eyes from the pages. I couldn't wait until I had the opportunity to try out some of the spells.

"No, I can tear myself away." I smiled at my two friends . "Thank you so much. I honestly can't wait to read these." Sirius vanished the discarded wrapping paper with a flick of his wand.

"And if you find any interesting hexes in those books, Moony, we'll want to hear about them," Sirius smirked.

"Yeah, don't withhold anything that could be used for potential pranking," James added.

I sighed. Despite the fact that I was in a room filled with people at the Weasleys, I felt as alone as I had done when I was spending Christmas by myself. I was lucky that the holidays hadn't fallen on a full moon however or I would have been forced to spend them consorting with my fellow werewolves.

Just the reminder of the books that James and Sirius had given to me was enough to bring back further memories. Just last Christmas, Sirius and I had bought Harry the same set, knowing how useful he'd find them. Sirius had told me about the secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group that Harry was setting up at Hogwarts, thanks to Dolores Umbridge and her lack of real teaching. I immediately remembered the books and recalled how I'd even referred to them occasionally when teaching for the year that I was at Hogwarts.

One of the Weasleys, Ginny no doubt, had made a great effort to cover the living room in numerous decorations. Homemade paper chains hung from every available inch of wall and ceiling and the huge Christmas tree took up most of the far side of the room. I suppressed a small smile as I noted the unattractive angel on top of the tree, which looked suspiciously like a garden gnome. Draped over the fireplace which I was sitting closest to, was a length of red and gold tinsel, clearly intended to represent the Gryffindor colours which usually hung in their common room. Merely the sight of that tinsel however, was enough to surface yet another of my Christmas memories.

"Wormtail, transform yourself and grab the end of this in your mouth." Sirius was whispering as he stuck his hand out of James's Invisibility Cloak. Peter gave a small squeak from the floor and did as he was told.

It was Christmas Eve and it was as late as we could creep out without anyone spotting us. All four of us were wearing red hats with a white fur rim and Sirius had managed to transfigure a long, white beard to cover his chin. Now, he resembled a much shorter and less majestic version of Dumbledore.

We were standing in front of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. As a Christmas present from the Marauders to our Slytherin friends, we had decided to provide their wall with decorations. Unfortunately, we had only been able to obtain decorations in Gryffindor colours. I didn't usually allow myself to get drawn into James and Sirius's pranks but it was Christmas and even I couldn't wait to see the Slytherins' faces in the morning.

"Attach that end of the tinsel to the wall," James muttered. "I showed you the spell earlier, Wormtail." After a few attempts, the rat who was perched halfway up the wall had secured one end of the red stream.

"Now, take the other end right up the top," Sirius told him. Peter transformed.

"I...I can't climb that high...I'm scared of heights." James and Sirius rolled their eyes. I decided to step in.

"I'll do it." Pointing my wand at the tinsel, I whispered.

"Wingardium Leviosa." Peter scuttled backwards, knocking into the table.

"Be quiet," Sirius muttered.

"Tell me when it's reached the ceiling," I murmured, guiding the stream of tinsel with my wand.

"Yeah, I think it's at the top," James announced after a few seconds. "Padfoot? You can do a Permanent Sticking Charm, can't you?" Sirius grinned and nodded.

"Sure I can. Reckon I've had a bit of practice on my bedroom walls at home." He aimed his wand at the wall.

A few minutes later, the entire wall behind the Slytherin table was covered with red and gold interlinked tinsel.

"What about the banners?" I reminded them. Sirius and James exchanged grins.

"We'll make a troublemaker out of you yet, Moony," James laughed. With a slow wave of his wand, red and gold banners unrolled themselves from nowhere and covered the spaces in between the tinsel. A huge Gryffindor lion was displayed on the banner, with the words 'Merry Christmas, Slytherin' flashing in huge letters underneath the image. All four of us laughed.

"What if they try to remove it with magic?" Peter asked quietly. Sirius nodded.

"There was a little solution that I had in mind. Hang on…"

He focussed his wand at the wall and everything we had put up began to glow for a few seconds. When he stowed his wand away again, the glow faded. James looked questioningly at him.

"What did you do?" Sirius grinned.

"If anyone tries to remove the decorations by hand or by magic, their robes will turn red and gold. Oh, and they'll get the word maraudered tattooed on their forehead which won't fade until the decorations do." We all burst out laughing.

"Nice one, Padfoot," James smirked.

"When does it all fade?" Peter squeaked.

"New Year's Eve," James answered, sniggering. "We'll let them enjoy it for a while."

And then, the four Marauders stood back underneath the cloak to admire their handiwork.

My mind wasn't remotely distracted by Celestina's voice wailing away in the background, nor by the occasional bangs or puffs of smoke coming from Fred, George and Ginny's rather heated game of Exploding Snap. On the contrary, the atmosphere in the room was merely succeeding in unburying memories which I hadn't pondered over in a long time. I hated the fact that the only Marauder who was left alive, aside from myself, was the very man who should have died years ago. Somewhere, Wormtail was able to live through yet another Christmas, when he was the least deserving of it of all of us.

Us...there was hardly an 'us' any longer. There hadn't really been an 'us' since we'd left Hogwarts, since the first war had caught up with the four men who had sworn that their brotherhood would withstand anything and everything. Ultimately, we all broke our promises. Sirius suspected me. I suspected him. James was forced into hiding and didn't contact me for months. Peter betrayed his friends, framed Sirius, sent him to Azkaban for twelve years and condemned me to a life of loneliness whilst he roamed free. Free as a rat, but far more free than Sirius or than the shabby werewolf who was shunned wherever he went.

I often wondered how Peter felt during those twelve years. It must have seemed like a purgatory to him, somewhere to wait until he had to prove himself again, before he was judged by the wizarding world. Did he attend his own memorial service? I had been there, sitting beside his distraught mother who was far too distressed to even care that her son's werewolf friend was one of the only people from his schooldays who showed up to pay their respects. Posthumously, he was awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class and I had been slightly annoyed by the gesture. Knowing him as I did, and knowing just how many people had been killed as a result of the war, even after his death, I didn't fully believe that the Ministry were justified in giving him the award. Lily and James hadn't received any formal recognition after they were murdered and I didn't see why they should be any different. Perhaps with hindsight, I was far more opposed to the attention that Peter received because I knew that he was a traitor but even from the beginning, I had always been slightly dubious about how far he deserved it.

I was finding it very difficult to comprehend how everything could have changed so much in just a year. Now, the war was openly discussed by the Daily Prophet, Harry was widely rumoured to be the Chosen One and Fudge didn't even have a front seat in the proceedings.

And most of all, most heart-wrenchingly and agonisingly of all, Sirius wasn't here this year. It was no wonder that I was still feeling the effects of his absence because on the night of his death, I had been surprisingly unaffected, until the fight was over at least.

The kitchen door of Grimmauld Place swung open and I let myself in with a shaking hand. Just why I had decided to return to the house, I had no idea. There was nothing there for me. I sat down heavily at the long wooden table and put my head in my hands.

Sirius was gone. My last friend had been snatched from me. I had the rest of the Order but it wasn't the same. Sirius and I had a past together. He had been the first one to discover my secret and more than that, he had been the first person ever to find out and not to treat me differently because of it. I owed so much to him, to Padfoot.

How many more losses could I stand? With every death, with every murder, another small piece of me was ripped away. The next full moon, I could guarantee that the wolf would be even more vicious than ever. It tended to feed off my mood and emotions throughout the days leading up to the transformation. During my carefree days at Hogwarts, when I had friends to laugh through the days with me and run wild with me on those moonlit nights, the wolf had been so much calmer, so much less violent. With the loss of each member of the pack, the wolf grew more vicious. The next full moon would undoubtedly be my worst yet.

"The werewolf is crying, Kreacher did not realise they had hearts for others, the vicious beasts." I did not lift my head. I hadn't even realised that there were tears on my face, nor that they were visible.

"Mistress would not want the werewolf in her house, no," Kreacher muttered. I had little patience for the elf, given the current situation.

"Kreacher, please leave me alone," I asked, as politely as I could manage without losing myself and screaming at him across the table. The elf shot me a snide smile.

"The werewolf is not Kreacher's master, Kreacher will not take orders from him." Ignoring his presence as best I could, I slumped forward on to the table.

"Mistress's eldest son is dead," Kreacher whispered. "The traitor to the House of Black has been killed by Miss Bella. Kreacher wishes that Miss Bella and Miss Cissy would be his new mistresses. Kreacher would be honoured to serve the Dark Lord further.

My head snapped up from the table. Further…?

"You...you didn't?"

The resulting cackle from Kreacher was almost unbearable to hear.

"Didn't do what? Kreacher doesn't understand what the werewolf says." I met Kreacher's eyes and the expression upon my face must have been the closest that I could get my human features to resemble the wolf.

"What have you done?" I spoke slowly, but with a steely tone to my voice. Kreacher smiled, a horrible, twisted smile which sent chills running through my body.

"Kreacher has only ever followed Master's orders." I held the elf's gaze until he laughed, an evil, hollow sound, laced with both malice and delight.

"Master told Kreacher to 'get out'. Kreacher obliged, as Kreacher must do when Master orders him."

My entire body went cold. It took me a split second to rise and cross the room. I grabbed Kreacher by the throat and slammed him against the wall as my heart pounded in my ears. I snarled viciously at him.

"You...you betrayed your own family? You're the reason he's…?" My voice was shaking so much that I could hardly hear myself. Kreacher's face twisted into an evil frown.

"Kreacher would very much like to kill the werewolf," he hissed. "Kreacher would very much like to see the wolf's head on the drawing room wall. But Master always forbade Kreacher from harming the werewolf. He knew that Kreacher wished to hurt him, very much." I shook the elf vigorously.

"WHY DID YOU BETRAY SIRIUS?" I yelled at him, my throat cracking with the sudden volume. "WHAT DID YOU TELL THE DEATH EATERS?" I pulled out my wand and a few red sparks flew out of the tip. Kreacher's eyes narrowed.

"Kreacher has never disobeyed Master's orders. Master forbade Kreacher from revealing anything about the Order of the Phoenix or their secret plans. But Kreacher knew that Master could be lured from his hiding place if the Potter boy was in danger. And Kreacher knew that the Potter boy would do anything in his power to save Master from the Dark Lord." My eyes widened in horror.

"And...you told...the Death Eaters all of those things?" I asked him, my voice dangerous low. Kreacher gave me one, slow nod.

"Kreacher was proud to serve. Kreacher told Miss Bella that the Potter boy reminded Master of his old pure-blood friend, the boy who used to send him owls in the middle of the night every summer. Kreacher used to read the letters sometimes, on Mistress' s orders. Kreacher discovered that Master was friends with a werewolf and he told Mistress right away. She wasn't happy, no. She used the Cruciatus Curse on the traitor and he left his family in peace." Kreacher paused as he stared at me.

"You betrayed the family you serve," I told him. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me. I felt, for the first time in over a decade, that the wolf was going to burst out of my human body.

"Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black," the elf replied slowly. "Master was a blood traitor and a filthy dog. Kreacher has seen him transform. They used to call him Padfoot."

"DON'T YOU DARE USE THAT NAME!" I screamed at the elf. "DON'T YOU EVER. YOU'RE THE REASON HE'S DEAD!" I jabbed my wand so hard into his neck that I expected it to leave a mark. Kreacher choked as my hand tightened around his throat but the malevolent glint was still present in his eyes.

"Is the werewolf going to kill Kreacher?" he chanted, mockingly.

"Don't you ever call me that again." My adult reserve had been completely abandoned. I felt as though I was back at Hogwarts, with wild teenage fury running through me the night before a full moon. I couldn't recall an occasion where I had ever been more furiously angry. Even after Lily and James were murdered, after we were betrayed, I only ever had short, sharp bouts of the fury. Now, I felt completely different, like an invisible charge was connecting every point in my body. I longed to make Kreacher suffer, longed to hurt him.

"But the werewolf is afraid," Kreacher taunted. "Kreacher thinks that he wouldn't dare." My eyes narrowed and I lifted my hands so that the elf was pinned against the wall, a few feet above the ground.

"You will regret what you've done," I told him, my voice breaking. I heard a slight crackling in the fire grate behind me but did not turn around.

"Kreacher cannot hurt the werewolf but Miss Bella and Miss Cissy wouldn't be happy to hear that Kreacher was threatened by the half-breed." I raised my wand.

"YOU LITTLE…"

As I opened my mouth, I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me backwards. I turned my head around with fire in my eyes, in my stomach and in my heart.

"Remus, please release Kreacher."

Dumbledore's tone was calm and his expression as serene as ever.

"I can'…" My vocal chords seemed to stop functioning and I felt my eyes water painfully as I tried to croak my reply. Dumbledore did not remove his hand.

"Remus, I will need you to listen to me, please. I need to obtain a confession from Kreacher. I cannot do so while you have him pressed against a wall." Dumbledore's blue eyes met mine and after an internal struggle which I was not sure I would win, I forced my hand away from Kreacher's neck. He fell to the floor, panting and rubbing the deep red marks.

"I understand your anger," Dumbledore told me. "But this is not the way to help Sirius, or the Order." I nodded numbly, feeling the tears begin to flow out of my eyes. "Molly has offered you a place to stay until the end of the school year," Dumbledore continued. "Considering the charming company and the excellence of the food, I would urge you to accept her offer." I couldn't fail to note the slight twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes.

I couldn't trust my voice to hold enough to speak but I nodded, hoping that my gratitude was either evident from my face or that I would be able to express it at a later date. Dumbledore smiled.

"Excellent. I'm sure that we will be meeting very shortly. In the meantime, I suggest that you take advantage of Molly's extremely generous hospitality."

As I prepared to apparate, I realised that I couldn't go straight to the Burrow. I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle company or conversation in my current state. There was only one other time that I had ever felt so utterly wretched before and I had gone somewhere I could be alone. If for no other reason, Sirius deserved the attention of my thoughts for a few hours, in a place where no one would interrupt the time that was for him. Perhaps two others would also occupy my mind in that time but I knew that Sirius would not mind sharing with them.

When I apparated, I hardly had time to think before I found my feet firmly pressed against the grass. It was June and in the late evening, the sun cast a golden glow over the scene. I saw the row of cottages, I saw the glint of sunlight on individual leaves and I saw the cool metal of the gate, just ahead of me. I knew instinctively where to go although I had only visited this place once before. Feeling slightly guilty for neglecting it for so long, I felt the long grass graze my legs as I made my way over to the spot. Under the shade of a large tree, I saw what I had been seeking and I could not stop the tears from streaming down my face as I stepped in front of the headstone.

A long time after the sun had set, I was still sitting cross-legged in the grass in front of the graves of Lily and James. It was unlikely that Sirius would ever have a physical grave but I would come here to remember him. As long as they remained in my mind and heart, the Marauders would live again.

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death...

The heat from the fire in the Weasleys' living room had not diminished at all. Lost deep in thought, I had lost track of time. Celestina was still crooning away, much to Mrs Weasley's delight and Fleur's distaste.

I shook my mind out of the past and had to smile wryly at myself. I was always the grounded, logical one, during my schooldays and then in the Order. I never usually displayed outbursts of emotion and I would always present the most rational solutions. It was very rare that I sank into my own memories, ignoring everything else, especially when I was surrounded by others.

Christmas Eve, I told myself sternly. I was alive. I was part of the fight for a better world. It would not do to abandon everything that my friends had laid down their lives for. Remaining focussed was imperative. I had to give myself something worth living for.