A/N: Yes, I wrote a songfic. *hangs head in shame* Blame it 

on Britelite! She's the one who started nagging me after I 

found out we were singing this in choir! *glares pointedly at 

her muse* Evil phoenix. Why are you always dragging me 

away from Fortuna Fatum with trivial stuff like this? Bah. As 

usual with these things, feel free to flame; there's a cold front 

moving in, and I need the extra warmth.


Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to J.K. Rowling. The song 

"Once Upon a December" (which is from the movie 'Anastasia') 

belongs to Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty. The other song 

mentioned is Roberta Flack's "The First Time Ever I Saw Your 

Face." No copyright infringement intended. 


Once Upon a December

The moon was full again. 

He could see it shining through the tiny window across from 
his cell, its illumination dulled by a thin layer of clouds. The 
silvery light glinted off the cell bars and danced across the 
floor, leaving gray-tinted shadows in its wake. Occasionally, as 
he continued watching, the clouds would part and reveal Luna 
in all her glory. 

Another month gone. Another thirty days of his life had 
vanished, never to return. 

A sigh escaped through his cracked lips. He uncurled himself 
from where he had been huddling in a corner, stiff with cold 
and despondency. Fumbling beneath the crude platform that 
served as a bed, he dug out the rock he had spent so many 
days sharpening to a fine point and crawled the length of his 
cell. 

The wall he sought was littered with short, vertical lines - tally 
marks that documented his life as it slipped away before his 
very eyes. One shaking hand raised the rock and pressed it 
into the stone wall, stripping away a thin layer of granite and 
leaving behind another sharp gouge. It slipped from his grasp 
as soon as he had finished; he was too weak to keep it in his 
hand for any longer. 

Resting back on his heels, he cocked his head in a doglike 
manner and studied his handiwork. So many marks on that 
one wall. So many scratches placed by his hand, one for each 
full moon he had spotted from behind the wall of bars. How 
many? How long had it been? He brought his hand up again, 
this time to trace the tally marks. But the numbers eluded 
him, replaced by the image of a smoldering house and the face 
of a man with tousled black hair, as a ghostly dementor floated 
by. 

He shuddered involuntarily and tore his thoughts away from 
the pictures, but not before a tear streaked down his face. 
With a great deal of effort he forced himself to focus on the 
marks. One. I am innocent. Two. I am innocent. Three. I am 
innocent. Four.... 

After some time had passed, a final count was revealed: one 
hundred and fourteen. One hundred and fourteen full moons; 
one hundred and fourteen months. That was...what? Nine 
years and six months? Yes, nine and a half years, give or take 
a few months, that he had spent in this hell. 

~~~
Dancing bears, painted wings
Things I almost remember
~~~ 

He brought his knees back up to his chest, long strands of 
tangled hair falling in his eyes. He made no motion to brush 
them away. To his right, a low moan of pure despair filtered 
through the wall. 

"No...no, please...I'm sorry...." 

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if the action could block out the 
fitful cries of the other prisoners. Happiness. He needed a 
happy memory, something, anything. It didn't matter if the 
dementors came flocking to his cell to feed off of it - he had to 
call up some sort of comfort to guide him through the start of 
month number one hundred and fifteen. He had to remember 
something.... 

But no memories, save those of his friend's death, surfaced. 
All joy had been sucked from his being. A breath escaped him 
as a half-formed sob as he cupped his face in his hands. 
Nothing left. Nothing. 

He had heard stories of those who had endured Azkaban for 
twenty, thirty, forty years, stories of the ones who had been 
lucky enough to escape life sentences. He had seen a few of 
them leave. All of them, every single one, were little more 
than a shell of their former selves. Some were even committed 
to St. Mungo's, for despite the fact that they were far from the 
dementors, they were still unable to feel happiness and hope. 
The emotions that had once kept them alive had been 
permanently destroyed. 

He had thought he was strong. He had resisted so far. But his 
strength was ebbing...his hope was dying...he would be like 
the "fortunate" ones soon.... 

And yet.... 

Something glimmered in the distance. He didn't even notice at 
first, but as it grew stronger, his erratic whimpers quieted. 
Elusive and fleeting, it hovered at the edge of his mind, as if 
hesitant to appear. 

"It's all right," he whispered to it aloud. "Please, help me." 

The memory, the joy he thought he'd lost, entered his soul, 
bringing with it a choir of voices. 

~~~
And a song someone sings
Once upon a December
~~~ 

"Silent night, holy night...all is calm, all is bright...." 

"Hey, James! We've got carolers out here!" 

"We do? Since when have carolers ever dropped by this 
humble little abode? I thought Prongs would've scared them all 
off...." 

"I heard that, Padfoot." James Potter poked his head into the 
living room, fixing Sirius Black with a fierce gaze. His glare lost 
some of its effect, however, due to the dusting of powdered 
sugar in his hair and the faint smears of gingerbread dough on 
his glasses. 

He grinned at him. "Why d'you think I said it?" he teased. 
Outside, the carolers switched over to a rendition of "We Wish 
You a Merry Christmas." 

"James, you're really too easy to annoy sometimes." Remus 
Lupin leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing over his pale 
features. 

"I am not!" he retorted. "I just...." 

"Am?" Sirius finished with a cackle. In retaliation, James 
retreated to the kitchen and returned a second later with a 
handful of flour. Sirius' cackle changed to a shout as the 
powder was launched in his face, exploding in a puff of white 
and turning his hair an interesting gray color. 

"Stop it, you three," Lily Potter chided. Her face, also streaked 
with white, appeared behind James. She draped her arms over 
her husband's shoulders, smiling at Sirius as he ran a hand 
over his face to clear away the flour residue, and continued, 
"Honestly, you'd think you were brothers, the way you're 
always fighting. Oh yes, and when a group of people appear 
outside your door and start singing Christmas carols in the 
blistering cold, you're supposed to invite them in and offer 
them hot chocolate." She nodded toward the door. 

"You are?" Sirius exclaimed with an air of great surprise. "Well, 
that's why they always throw snowballs at me when I yell at 
them to get lost!" 

Lily laughed and started back into the kitchen, James close 
behind her. "Just keep it down," she called over her shoulder, 
"or you'll wake Harry." 

~~~
Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
~~~ 

Sirius turned to Remus. "Get the door, will you?" 

"Why? How come you can't get the door?" 

"Because the poor defenseless carolers will run away 
screaming if they see me like this." He gestured to his white-
stained robes. 

"They'd run away screaming even if you weren't covered in 
flour, Sirius." He ducked as his friend tried to cuff his head and 
got up to cross the room. Pulling the door open, he was 
greeted with a blast of frigid air, a shower of snowflakes, and 
the sight of fifteen rosy-cheeked witches and wizards crooning 
"O Christmas Tree." Faintly, in the distance, the jingle of sleigh 
bells and the clip-clopping of horse hooves could be heard. 

When the last notes of the choir dropped off into silence, 
Remus applauded them with a smile. From within the house, 
whistles and cheers could be heard, courtesy of Sirius. "Come 
on in," Remus said to them. "I'll conjure you guys some hot 
chocolate." 

~~~
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory
~~~ 

The crowd pushed their way inside, chattering nonstop; the 
younger children were fairly bouncing with excitement at the 
prospect of something warm to drink. One child eyed Sirius 
warily and clung to her mother's leg. He crossed his eyes and 
stuck out his tongue, making the young girl giggle and spin 
around in delight. 

Meanwhile, Remus had spotted a familiar, chubby face in the 
crowd of carolers. "Wormtail!" he shouted over the babble. 
"You made it!" 

Peter Pettigrew managed to squirm out of the crowd and 
stumbled forward to meet him. "Hey," he said, nodding. "Sorry 
I'm late. The weather's terrible out there." 

"Well, you're here. That's all that matters." Raising an 
eyebrow, Sirius added, "Since when do you sing?" 

"I wasn't carol - " He broke off upon seeing his flour-dusted 
friend. "Wow, Padfoot, what happened to you?" 
"Cooking mishap," he explained matter-of-factly. Then, 
shouting in the direction of the kitchen, "Thanks ever so much, 
JAMES!" 

"Anytime, Sirius!" drifted the reply. Sirius stuck out his tongue, 
though he knew James wouldn't be able to see him. Peter 
plopped down in a spare chair, rubbing his thin hair vigorously 
in an attempt to dry it off. 

Remus, after some battling with his robes, extracted his wand 
and waved it over an empty spot on the living room table. 
Rows of steaming white mugs materialized and were instantly 
grabbed by the eager carolers. For a minute, the talkative 
group was quiet as they drank the provided refreshments. 

James and Lily entered a few seconds later, each carrying a 
tray of gingerbread men. "Cookies, anyone?" James offered. 
He cleared a space on the table and placed his tray down. 
"Fresh from the oven, no magic," Lily added, setting down her 
tray as well. "Homemade food always tastes better than 
conjured, you know." 

The carolers descended on the pastries, making them 
disappear almost as quickly as the hot chocolate. The couple sat down on the floor, Lily resting her head on James' 
shoulder. He placed an arm around her waist and absently 
played with a few strands of her long red hair. 

~~~
Someone holds me safe and warm
~~~ 

A wail suddenly pierced the air, echoing from an upstairs 
bedroom. 

"Oh, no, Harry!" Lily cried. She jumped to her feet and 
scurried out of the room. James got up and followed her, 
worry creasing his brow. 

"I didn't do it," Sirius said quickly, shrinking against his chair 
as the carolers looked in his direction. 

"Yes, he did. I saw him," Remus immediately countered. 

Sirius mock-glared at him. "You realize I'd hit you if you 
weren't so far away, right?" 

"Yep," he said, scooting his chair a little farther from Sirius'. 
Several carolers chuckled at their antics before returning to 
their food. 

Lily and James returned a short while later. A tiny boy was in 
Lily's arms. Though he was less than five months old, one 
could see the resemblance he bore to his parents: his thin 
coating of black hair was already growing in every which way, 
like James', and the green hue of his eyes exactly matched his 
mother's. More of their visitors made small exclamations of, 
"Isn't he adorable?" and, "Oh, he's such a sweetie!" 

Sirius' playful, bickering mood vanished as soon as his eyes 
alighted on Harry. "Is he all right?" he asked softly. 

Lily nodded. "Just woke up and didn't know where we were, I 
guess. You know how he can be." 

"Yeah." He brushed a little more flour from his hair and looked 
up at her. "Is it all right if...can I hold him?" 

"Of course." She smiled and carefully handed her son to him. 
He cradled Harry close, his hands supporting his body with a 
gentleness no one would have expected. 

"Hey there, little guy," he whispered in the special voice he 
reserved for only him. Harry gurgled and balled his hand into a 
fist, swinging it at something no one else could see. "Was that 
you crying upstairs like that? Was it? Aw, why were you 
crying?" He jutted out his lip in a fake pout. "You're going to 
make me cry too, you know." 

James chuckled and returned to his spot on the floor. Lily 
snuggled up next to him. 

~~~
Horses prance through a silver storm
~~~ 

The sound of sleigh bells and horses' hooves reached their ears 
again as a horse-drawn carriage passed close by the house. 

"A sleigh ride. That's so romantic," Lily murmured. She turned 
to her husband and playfully swatted his shoulder. "How come 
you never do anything like that for me?" 

"Hey, I offered to give you a moonlight ride on my Silver 
Arrow!" he protested. 

"James, you know how I feel about that infernal 
broomstick...." 

"It's not infernal!" 

"So says Mr. I-made-the-England-Quidditch-team-when-I-was-
eighteen," Peter piped up from the corner. 

"Wormtail, you're not helping," he said warningly. 

"Sorry." 

Sirius looked up from Harry, who had been capturing all of his 
attention up until that point. "There's still tomorrow," he 
reminded the couple. "Personally, it'd be a lot more romantic if 
you did a sleigh ride on Christmas instead of Christmas Eve." 
He turned to the carolers. "Don't you guys agree?" 

The group nodded, punctuating their uniform gesture with, 
"yes" and "of course." 

"And once again, Padfoot saves the day," Remus said with a 
grin. Sirius didn't hear him, though - Harry had just yawned 
loudly and was beginning to fall asleep in his godfather's arms. 

~~~
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory....
~~~ 

"I think James' carbon copy is getting sleepy," he whispered. 
Taking great care not to jostle him, he shifted positions so the 
baby could drift off without causing him great discomfort. 

One of the carolers stood up and stretched, yawning slightly as 
well. "Thanks for the cookies and drinks, everyone," she said, 
"but we'd better be going. We've still got a few more houses to 
hit before we turn in for the night." 

"Our pleasure." James stood up and shook her hand with a 
smile. "Thanks for the entertainment." 

Sirius looked up again. "Hey, do you think you could give us 
one more song before you go?" he questioned. 
"Because...uh...." He snapped his fingers, trying to think of an 
excuse. "James and Lily have been married for one year, two 
months and twelve days now," he finally pulled out. "I think 
that's a cause for celebration." He grinned. 

"Yeah, why don't you serenade them?" Remus added. "Sing 
something romantic. Lily'll probably brutally murder James if 
something romantic doesn't happen before tonight's over." 

"I will not! Besides, we're going on a sleigh ride tomorrow, 
aren't we, James?" 

"Uh...." He faltered. 

"Quick, start singing!" Peter hissed with something akin to 
panic. Amidst a few scattered chuckles, the carolers huddled 
together and conversed in hushed tones for a few seconds. 
Then they turned to face them, and one woman stepped 
forward. 

"The first time ever I saw your face," she sang, "I thought the 
sun rose in your eyes...and the moon and stars were the gifts 
you gave to the dark and the empty skies, my love...to the 
dark and empty skies...." 

James offered his hand to his wife, bowing deeply. "May I have 
this dance?" he intoned, looking at her over the rims of his 
glasses. 

"If you insist." Her eyes were full of light and laughter as she 
was pulled to her feet and whirled around the room. Defying 
his slender and slightly awkward frame, James danced with 
practiced ease, taking her through a series of complicated 
steps that came off as nothing but graceful. 

As the rest of the choir joined in, the bright colors of the room 
became fuzzy and indistinct. Lily's forest-green dress and 
James' red apron, which he had forgotten to take off after their 
cooking endeavor, swirled together and blurred around the 
edges. Soon they were gone, leaving behind only the image of 
their faces. They gazed into each other's eyes with an 
immeasurable amount of love, a love that could transcend any 
boundaries in their way...then they vanished, leaving behind 
nothing but black. 

~~~
Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember
Things my heart used to know
Things it years to remember
~~~ 

The young boy opened his eyes and tried to force them into 
focus. Something had awakened him. What was it? He sat up 
and groped for his glasses, which he kept near the edge of his 
bed. It hadn't been a nightmare, or another memory of the car 
crash. No, this dream had been a good one...like the flying 
motorcycle, only better. 

He had been in a room, surrounded by people. Some he 
thought he knew: a man with long black hair and laughing 
brown eyes, another with shorter brown hair and a pale 
complexion, someone who was a bit on the fat side and 
blended into the background, and - his stomach gave a jolt. 
Had those two people, the ones who were dancing...had they 
been his parents? 

There had been so much happiness contained there. In the 
space of one small room, he had felt more joy and love than 
he had ever experienced in his life. Love...what a strange, 
foreign concept it was to him. And already that love was 
starting to slip away with the rest of the dream, as if he were 
trying to hold a pile of sand within a sieve. He fought to grasp 
it back, to keep just a little of that feeling, but it was gone 
before he could even begin to try. 

As he sighed and settled his glasses on his nose, he saw a 
beam of silvery light that pierced through the cupboard's 
keyhole. The tiny bit of luminescence hit the exact spot where 
his head had been resting. So that was what had woken him 
up - the moonlight directed right at his eye. It must be a full 
moon tonight. 

Careful, so as not to let the floorboards squeak and alert his 
relatives, he got onto his knees and squinted through the 
keyhole. If he turned his head just the right way, he could 
peer through a window near the cupboard and spot the sky 
outside. Once he had settled into position, he saw that yes, 
there was indeed a full moon hanging overhead. 

It's so beautiful. He sighed again and brushed away a spider 
that had begun to creep up his leg. Why, oh why couldn't he 
remember the dream? He knew it had been beautiful, too, but 
all he had now was the faintest impression of its beauty. 

Harry Potter stayed by the door of his tiny cupboard for nearly 
an hour afterward, eyes trained on the moon, until he finally 
gave up the dream - and the love it had carried - for lost. 

~~~
And a song someone sings....
~~~ 

Hundreds of miles away, on a rocky island in the middle of the 
sea, Sirius Black cast his eyes on the very same moon. Fight 
it, fight it, fight it, he repeated soundlessly as the dementors 
closed in. They had felt it, just as he had predicted. They had 
sensed the happiness he had tried to conjure, and now they 
were here to snatch it away. 

He clung to the final bit of song the carolers had given them, 
using it as a weak shield to protect the memory from flying 
away. Fight it, fight it. But it did not hold for long. The feelings 
he had struggled to uncover vanished into the dementors, 
leaving behind sights of the Dark Mark and a laughing face as 
a street before him exploded. 

Fight it.... 

I can't. I can't fight any longer. 

He leaned against the platform, resting his face in his arms, 
and wept openly. 

~~~
Once upon a December....
~~~