Author's Notes: Hey everyone! Long time no see. Anyways, here I am with the first little chappie of a new fic! SHORT FIC. For all of your Remus lovers. I really hope you'll like it. But WHATEVER you think about it, say it in your review. I am not as before. I can bear flames too. Just be honest… and enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: Do people still do these? Blah, blah, blah, all hail JKR, please. 3
Just One Last Time
"Oh," I sigh, as I absent-mindedly hand my cat the remains of delicious fish I've had for lunch. "It's that time of year again, isn't it… Who would've thought a year's already passed…"
"We don't have to do it this time, do we? I didn't even buy the tree this year." I say tiredly, looking through the window at the morning sky. It's white and cloudy and smells like snow. "I just don't see the point any more…"
My cat raises a paw in the air and looks resolutely at me with her yellow eyes, almost as though she wants to say "We're doing it and that's final. And if you say no, I'm going to be all cute and you won't be able to resist me. Get it?"
I swear, sometimes I feel as though she's a human being. But she's not. I know things like that. Believe me, I can discern animagi from people. I know all about Magical Creatures, and no. My cat isn't one. She's just… a cat.
But, still, I'm absolutely sure she can understand each and every word I say.
That's why I smile to myself as I fondle her over head. My smart little fur-ball.
"You know we won't be having any guests, though, don't you? Only you and me. Two eternal loners. Like something changes there… Anyway, that is exactly why I think we shouldn't decorate the tree this year…"
Meow. Meow. Meeeoow.
"Alright, alright, don't give me that pleading look. We'll do it. But, it's only because I can't stay here and argue all day. And don't get any ideas, because it has absolutely noything to do with the fact you're my favourite cat."
"Aren't you lucky, always getting what you want. Must be very nice to have somebody to care this much about you, isn't it?"
She finishes the fish and, in order to show me her gratefulness, softly brushes her body against my feet a couple of times before going to the opposite corner of the room to take a nap.
"The cat said her final judgement and you, Remus, must obey her. Okay, then, time for messing at the attic… That old dusty plastic Christmas tree must be somewhere up there. True, I haven't used it in years. Decades, even, but it should be there. Well, better get to work. Christmas is within hours."
As I climb the rotten stairs, I do some thinking. I am aware of my talking to myself, but it is nothing new or unusual to me. It happens when you live all by yourself. You get a little surprised the first few times, I guess. Day by day, you realize it slowly becomes a natural thing and don't notice it any more. Besides, if anyone asks, I can always use the excuse that I am talking to my cat, when in fact I am just thinking out loud.
Some people would probably say it is not normal to talk to cat either, but, the truth is, I don't really care. It's not like they can hear me. I don't get many visitors. Okay, I lie. I never have any visitors. That's why I don't see the point in decorating the tree or pretending I am enjoying Christmas. Isn't that supposed to be the holiday you're spending with family and friends? Well. I have neither.
As I make a few steps through the attic, a sudden undertone sound separates me from my thoughts. I seize my wand and clearly say "Lumos!", looking left and right. Maybe there are some doxies up here. Or a boggart. Why not? Then, I finally notice it; the slimy creature that has been living here ever since my late grandfather had built the house.
"Long time no see, eh?" I say with a small smile, looking at the ghoul, wavering behind the old trunks.
"Aooo," it moans in respond.
"Funny, that's exactly what I keep saying on every full moon."
The creature goggles at me, floats for a moment or two more and then disappears in the other part of the attic.
"Hmmmm…" I mutter to myself, " where could that plastic thingy be?"
I put away some ancient books and papers so I can get to the larger boxes and peek inside.
I try to pull one big case and something falls on the ground before me. I bend to get it and realize it's a piece of parchment. As I look at its torn edges, I see a date scribbled in one corner of it.
24th December 1977.
In the next moment, I feel a sudden urge to sit down, because my knees are starting to shiver slightly. It's not completely due to the date; it's more because of the familiar messy handwriting. I remember who it belongs to.
"Used to belong." I silently correct myself.
Something about the look of the parchment makes me feel the date is not the only thing there is, so I turn it over. It is the right thing to do, because there are words written across it. I start reading, still feeling shaky.
"Moony, if you've found this, that means you've finally realized you've got yourself an attic. Congrats! You deserve a medal, you really do. Considering you never climb up 'ere, you probably are now as old as Dumbledore if not older and have lots of little werewolf kiddies running around the house.
Anyhow, we've got yourself a present. How generous of us. All you need to do is to name our Bandit names in alphabetical order plus the famous continuation (we really hope you're not v. senile and that you'll know what we're babbling about!) and the magic will do the rest. Happy Christmas!
P.S. Aren't you simply proud of me? I used exclamation marks and commas and full stops and apostrophes or however they're called. I still don't understand why I wasn't made a Head Boy – I'm so intelligent. James, on the contrary, is not, but don't tell him I told you this, or I'm in trouble. I still owe him some money, so I better not piss him off."
Author's Notes: Hope you like it so far. DON'T FORGET THE REVIEWS. 3 3 3