/𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒\ [𝒔. 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌]

𝐭𝐞𝐧

𝟏,𝟎𝟒𝟐 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬

The snow fell softly outside the windows of Artemis and Sirius's house, but inside it couldn't feel cozier. Despite Artemis's protests that there was no point, Sirius had insisted on putting up a Christmas tree and any decorations he could find in the boxes in the attic. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and Sirius was nothing if not festive during this time of year. It was, he claimed, the only way to stave off the inevitable seasonal depression of winter.

Artemis refilled her glass of wine as Sirius tended to the fire in the grate, humming along to the old Elvis Christmas record Mary had given them years ago. "How many people are going to stick to the no gift rule, d'you reckon?" he called over his shoulder, straightening up and fixing the tinsel on the mantle.

"Nobody," Artemis said with a dry smile. "Have you met our friends?"

"Ah, we didn't stick to it either, love," said Sirius, crossing the room to check on the cookies in the oven. "It was a stupid rule anyhow."

Artemis chuckled and poured him a glass of wine too. He took it in one hand, and swept her into his arms with the other, waltzing her around the kitchen as if they were at one of their family's Christmas balls. Artemis balanced her glass and let Sirius spin her around and around until she felt dizzy. "Sirius!" she said at last, stumbling into his chest.

He laughed and pulled her in close, reaching behind him for the Santa hat on the counter. In one motion, he settled it on top of her head. "Ha- gotcha."

"I'm not wearing the hat at the party," she said, failing to sound cross. "It's too big anyhow."

She peered up at him under the brim, her eyes sparkling. Sirius stuck his lower lip out and gently fixed the hat so it fit a little better. "Come on, it's festive! And it looks so cute."

"Get me a little drunker and we'll see."

"Scrooge."

She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then opened one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out rolling paper. "While you're baking the cookies, I'm going to bake in a different way."

Sirius tossed her his lighter, then slipped on oven mitts and pulled the cookies from the oven. "I love muggle baking," he said, gazing down at his handiwork proudly. "Why don't more wizards make things without magic?"

"They could've been done an hour quicker with magic," said Artemis, flicking her wand so her joint rolled and lit itself. "But I s'pose when you grow up with magic, making your own cookie dough is a bit like magic."

"Yeah, share that," he said, plucking the joint from her fingers. "We should make Christmas Eve parties here a tradition."

Artemis grinned up at him, then turned to look around at their living room, all decorated for the holidays. Things in the wizarding world were bad, but for the moment, in her little house with Sirius, with Elvis crooning carols in the background, everything felt okay. "Yeah," she said, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yeah, let's do that."