Chapter Text
Sirius
"Merry Christmas! I'll owl you every day!" Sweet, beloved James Potter was leaning so precariously out the window of the Hogwarts Express I was worried he'd fall out if it weren't for Peter and Remus holding onto him. He was yelling over the sound of the train, clinging to my hand, and I was on my tiptoes, fingers tangled in his, walking along as the train began to leave the station. Was he crying? Was I crying?
"Don't forget about me!" I pleaded, squeezing his fingers as tightly as I could, my pace picking up into a jog. We didn't have much of the platform left.
He locked eyes with me. Set his lips into a firm scowl. "Never." He promised, quirking his pinky around mine. "Love you lots!" It's what he said to his mum and dad at the end of every letter. To family. I was definitely crying.
"Love you too!" I cried. I leapt off the end of the platform and our fingers were torn apart, but I kept running under his window.
"Go! Go! Go!" he chanted, pumping his fists over my head. Why hadn't I brought my broom?
The train pulled away, and I waved frantically after James, who waved just as frantically back, until Remus and Peter pulled him inside to avoid getting his head chopped off by the tunnel. Covered in dust washed away by my tears, I turned and trudged my way back to the platform, back to Hogwarts, back to a lonely Christmas.
Regulus:
There's something about watching Sirius leap off the end of the platform to run after James with a grin on his face and tears in his eyes that makes the doors of my heart finally click shut. I've spent the past three months trying to push him out of my chest and he's spent the past three months finding little ways to creep back in. A half-wave as he passes me in the hallway. Passing James extra ingredients in potions class so James gives me the rest. A glance in the Great Hall. The unsigned note in Patricia's beak wishing me well and telling me, "I will always have your back, Reg, even if it's from the shadows."
He could be in Gryffindor and still choose me. He could stay at Hogwarts for the holidays and still run off the platform after me. But he chose James.
I slip my hand from Narcissa's and fold it in my lap. No more nicknames. No more kiddie sh*t. I'm a Black, through and through. It's time I start acting like one and stop chasing after a blood traitor.
~
There's a crack as Kreacher apparates into my room."Master Regulus hasn't eaten today. Is he unwell?" I've been focused on my studies. On potions, to be specific. I can't let Potter, or Evans, overtake me. Slughorn already loves Evans. He'd love Potter, too, if he shut his mouth long enough to hear an entire lecture.
"Studying, Kreacher. I'm fine." It's quiet apart from the scratch of my quill and our breathing. I expect him to leave.
"Kreacher made a few extra scones. He knows Mistress Walburga does not allow food in the bedchambers, but perhaps Kreacher can close his eyes and apparate the plate directly here and watch Master Regulus eat them to ensure no crumbs are left behind?" I set down my quill. The doors in my chest shudder. Leave it up to Kreacher to apparate past them.
"I wonder, what type of scones would be left extra?" I hum, keeping my eyes down at my potions textbook.
Two cracks. The smell of honey-lavender and butter. Kreacher must've spent all morning baking them, just for me. "Honey-lavender with a salted-butter topcoat. The young Master's favorite." I turn slowly, the muscles in my cheeks twitching to hide my smile. A whole plate of them. My stomach growls.
"I suppose a few scones couldn't hurt."
Sirius:
I'm sitting, alone, in the Great Hall on Christmas morning when my vision blurs and my skin stretches. It's subtle, small changes, a slight change in my facial features, a few moles here and there, my shoulders tightening together, my hair growing shorter. Then the pain starts. Agony. Fire and ice and blood and bile. Blinding white and pitch black and red, all red. I'm on my hands and knees in mother's marigolds. Sick across the dirt. Blood drips from my mouth, from my tongue.
Lucius' laughter behind me. Bellatrix, as well. Cissy and Andy grab my arms and help me to stand. "Breathe, Reggie," Andy whispers in my ear, and it makes sense. Now that I'm gone, Reg is the runt of the litter. Now that he's old enough to be at Hogwarts, he's old enough to hang out with Lucius and Bella. Old enough to Crucio'd.
"Attaboy, Regulus! Now you're a true pureblood!" And I'm not. I'm not. I'm not even there.
Regulus:
The regrowth potion doesn't work. I don't think it's meant to heal bites you've taken out of your own tongue. The end of it is gone, jagged and purple-pink-red from where I bit it off and spat it out into mother's marigolds. From where I became a true pureblood, a true Black. A part of the family.
The family tree still smells like smoke, especially when I get nose to nose with the black smudge next to my name and picture. If I stare hard enough, I can make out the shape of his profile in the smudge. I think.
"Good, Regulus. It's good to remind yourself of what you can become if you don't remain pure." Mother, silent as ever, slides her hands over my shoulders and squeezes. "I'm glad you made the right decision." She kisses the top of my head. "I love you, little lion. My brave little boy."
Sirius:
"There you are, Mister Black. You've kept me waiting long enough." My eyes ache when I open them. There's no one here to rub the feeling back into my cold fingers, but there's a weight at the end of my bed all the same. The Headmaster sits with two gift-wrapped boxes in his lap, patiently gazing down at me with twinkling eyes over half-moon spectacles.
"Headmaster,"I croak, trying to sit up
He holds out a hand for me to lie back down. My joints creak as I recline back into the downy pillow. "You don't need to sit up to open your Christmas presents, Mister Black." He passes the two boxes into my arms. One is no larger than my fist, the other more of a garment box. My fingers shake and it takes me longer than it should to open the larger one first. A letter on top of a sweater.
"Dear Sirius,
Merry Christmas! I begged Mum and Dad to let me visit you, but they just said that if I wanted to have holiday with you so bad to just bring you home next time. What do you think of that, huh? Anyways, it's felt like eons here without you. Nothing's fun without you. But I'll see you seen! I'm coming back early to spend New Year's at Hogwarts. I miss you loads. My mum got us matching sweaters! Hope that didn't spoil your present. I'll just put this in the box so it doesn't.
Love you more than pranking Remus,
James Potter
P.S. Mum and Dad wish you a happy Christmas as well!"
Matching sweaters, huh? It's burgundy with gold stripes, for Gryffindor. Nothing too special, but it's wonderfully soft.
The other takes a bit longer to open from its impressively tight wrapping and a fitted box, but inside is a simple golden watch. The nicest thing I have, after I had to give everything back to Regulus.
"That one's from me." Dumbledore says, tapping the box. "You and Mister Potter seem to be in a habit of tardiness, and I thought a timely gift was in order." He stands, folding his hands behind him. "Merry Christmas, Sirius. I'll have a house elf bring up some of the feast for you." The watch fits loosely over my wrist, and when I take it off to tighten it, I catch the inscription on the bottom: with room to grow and make your own.
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