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James Potter is a man on a mission.
With the Winter Holiday break rapidly approaching, he is going to ensure the Black brothers have the best damn Christmas ever.
Only one problem.
Well… there are a lot of problems if he’s being honest with himself. But first and foremost, he needs to figure out a suitable gift for his best mate’s little brother. Although his other best mate, Remus, vehemently disagrees, Sirius Black is the easiest bloke in the world to shop for (maybe James’s perspective is skewed because he isn’t Sirius’s boyfriend? Or Remus is just a chronic overthinker, who, said with oodles of love, makes everything so much harder than it needs to be).
Black the Elder (‘Stop referring to me like that, you peon! Black the Elder is my father, and my father is a cold, soulless prick’)... Sirius likes all sorts of things; anything Muggle; fashion (though James sticks to Muggle clothes since his mate’s taste in robes goes far beyond ‘finicky’; practical gifts (example: for Sirius’s thirteenth birthday, James had the inspired idea of buying a pair of two-way mirrors, allowing them to talk in detention AND giving his vain best mate the ability to easily check his reflection); books, because he’s secretly a swot (again, James leans towards Muggle books, because he’s less likely to accidentally get Sirius something he already has), jewelry, shiny things, music, Quidditch. The list goes on and on.
Regulus, on the other hand, is much more difficult. It doesn’t help that they’re not really friends, per se. That’s not to say that James wouldn’t like to be! Because he would. Very much... if he was allowed to speak freely, James would say he'd like them to be more than friends. Like, oh he doesn't know... husbands, perhaps? Regardless, Baby Black is VERY shy and reserved. Until he became the Slytherin Quidditch Captain last year, James legitimately didn’t know Regulus could speak above a whisper (hearing him shout directions and praise at his teammates was enough of a mindfuck, but witnessing him go off on the Hufflepuff Beaters for their vile foul against the Slytherin Keeper, Wylan Honeywood, was jaw-dropping… and frightening. So frightening. Even Sirius seemed unnerved by the absolutely vicious threats that spewed from his brother’s pretty mouth. It was so bad, the two blokes quit the team in fear of their lives, even after Regulus 'apologized').
Terrible to admit, though it’s the truth - people who don’t talk a lot make James massively uncomfortable. For years, his thoughts would run amuck whenever he was around his best mate’s younger brother; Does he think I’m annoying? Am I bothering him? Should I just leave? He hates me, doesn’t he? Yeah… he definitely hates me, I should just go. He doesn’t want me hanging around when he’s trying to spend time with his brother.
Drunkenly in fourth year, James mentioned the perceived animosity to Sirius. The elder Black brother looked at him like he’d grown three heads. ‘Regulus doesn’t have a problem with you. Trust me, I would know if he did… because he’d tell me, James, right to my face… remember when I dated that Ravenclaw for like a week, even convinced myself he was The One?... Yeah, I know we don’t speak of it, but lemme just say, Reggie chewed my arse out for HOURS about how Lightwood was the scum of his house, went on and on about it, said he didn’t care if I liked him, he was… well, a LOT of vulgar words that I will not repeat. So yes, even though you’re my best mate, he would definitely tell me if he didn’t like you. He’s just shy and socially awkward, James. It doesn’t help that you wander off every time he’s around… yes, I’ve noticed, which means he’s DEFINITELY noticed.’
After that 'talk', James made a concerted effort to include the Slytherin in conversation. Regulus didn't always respond to his overtures, but behind his brother's back, Sirius would sometimes give James thumbs up as a form of wordless encouragement. Over time, he learned what topics would induce a response from the younger boy, and he cherished their conversations. Of course, like his brother, Regulus possessed a fondness for arguing ('It's debating, not arguing', Regulus always insists... which uh huh, sure, whatever you say, beautiful) that James sometimes exploited. But most of all, he learned to be comfortable in Regulus's company, regardless if they talked.
Needless to say, James felt a rush of mixed emotions this summer when he opened his front door to find both Black brothers on his doorstep.
Incandescent rage was the first emotion. Each boy bore a litany of cuts, broken bones, bruises, and even a few burns. Sirius, however, was undeniably worse off. Slumped over at the waist, incoherent and soaked to the bone, Regulus’s ironclad grip was the only reason Sirius remained mostly upright. It was one of the rare times where Regulus spoke to James first. Through chattering teeth, and with a hoarse voice, strained from hours of flying in the pouring rain, struggling to hold onto his half-dead brother seated in front of him on his broom, Regulus said, “I’m… I’m sorry for barging in like this, but I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go. Please help him, Potter, please. I can’t pay you right now, but I swear I’ll compensate you in the future, any amount you request, just… just help him, please.” Familiar with the appalling mistreatment the Black brothers endured at Grimmauld Place, James automatically knew the source of their injuries - Walburga Black, the witch who brought them into this world, and the woman who was undeserving of the privilege to be called their ‘mother’.
In time, James would learn that Regulus’s on the fly spell work is the only reason Sirius is still alive. He insists it was a burst of Accidental Magic that sent their drawing room chandelier crashing onto Walburga’s head, and subsequently locked their father in his own study. Sirius hotly counters this statement, arguing that his younger brother is ‘ace’ at wandless magic, and has never done anything accidental in his life - all of his childhood displays of magic were done with full and total intent. Either way, with the hag unconscious and the real Black the Elder out of the way, Regulus was able to tend to the worst of their injuries with temporary fixes. Meanwhile, their house elf begrudgingly packed as many of their belongings as he could, his personal loyalty to the youngest Black superseding the magical bond with his Master for the time being. Only when Orion Black finally remembered Kreacher’s existence did Regulus stumble out of the front door with his brother in tow, flying off before the older man could take a single step out of his study.
James felt a rush of other things too. Relief, because the brothers were safe. Guilt, for being glad that Walburga had finally gone too far and forced her children to flee. Frustration, because, ‘What do you mean you’re going back there, Regulus?! That woman is NOT your family!’ Thankfully, Sirius woke up from his week-long coma just in time to dissolve his brother of that batshit crazy notion.
There was also the overwhelming awkwardness. Living with Sirius was nothing new for James. They shared a dorm together for a good portion of the last five years, so it only made sense to share his bedroom with his best mate too. That wasn’t the challenge.
Living with Regulus in Potter Manor reminded James of the time his mum randomly brought home an abandoned half-kneazle she found picking through rubbish bins on a side street in Diagon Alley. In spite of the horrid conditions the feline was rescued from, he remained immensely distrusting of his new owners and accommodations for… Merlin, a year, maybe more? James learned the hard way to avoid the mini-beast (which suited Frederick just fine). It was his mum and her unyielding patience that made all the difference. Since Sirius was there, Regulus’s transition was much easier than Frederick’s. But after being nearly killed by his mother for being gay and in a relationship with a Halfblood bloke he refused to break up with for a 'proper' partner, the Gryffindor-Black had his own issues to work through. Since Sirius wanted to be alone more often than not for the first few weeks at Potter Manor, James took up the mantle of entertaining Regulus. Yet nearly every one of his attempts at pulling Regulus out of his shell failed. Baby Black faced it with a stiff-upper lip, never once complaining or saying ‘no’ to whatever idea James pitched to him when he knocked on the guest room door. But even someone as oblivious as James Potter could tell Regulus looked like a man preparing himself to walk into Azkaban prison for a life sentence. The only time Regulus didn’t look like the saddest/bravest baby dear imaginable? When James asked him to go flying, which they did often that summer.
Oddly enough, it was Frederick himself who helped Regulus the most. Scratching constantly at the youngest Black’s door to be granted entry, he was suddenly a demanding attention whore. Once, James tried to apologize for the heathen behavior. Regulus looked at him like he said he enjoyed kicking kittens for sport and closed the door in his face. Stories of Baby Black’s animal-loving ways were nothing new, but to actually see it in person? Blimey, he soon understood why the Blacks checked Regulus's pockets whenever he left a pet store! James will never forget the day he walked into the sitting room to find the younger boy curled up on the bay window seat, asleep with a book facedown on his chest. The antisocial tomcat was purring up a storm on Regulus's stomach, though it wasn’t loud enough to mask the Slytherin’s soft, endearing snores.
That moment triggered James’s sudden realization - Regulus had his own feline companion, Calypso, who must still be at Grimmauld Place. He didn’t mention his scheming to Sirius for fear of it getting back to Regulus, on the (very likely) off chance he failed. Fortunately, the Potter’s house elf, Whimsy, was a miracle worker, who successfully orchestrated a trade with Kreacher, providing information on Regulus’s wellbeing, in exchange for the feline (who the Black elf had not only hid with elven magic, but misled his Mistress regarding the cat’s whereabouts)... Whimsy also got a hefty bag of gold for the youngest Black, which Regulus voluntarily split with his sibling.
James felt a surge of panic at the sight of Regulus's utterly blank expression as he opened the door to find the Potter heir clutching his snooty feline… that feeling grew tenfold when the first tear slid down the Slytherin’s cheek. By the time Sirius flew out of their shared room, having heard the sound of his brother’s bawling from across the hall, James was seconds away from passing out. Baby Black passed his treasured familiar to his brother as explanation, then launched himself into James’s arms, a torrent of French spilling from his lips. Nowhere near as posh as the Black brothers, James still has no idea what he said, but it probably wasn’t bad considering Regulus finished his word vomit by pressing a wet kiss to James’s cheek. Taking his cat back from his bemused brother, he scampered back into his room to introduce his cat to his newest feline friend (which didn’t go well at all, though Regulus appeared to enjoy trying to soothe their polite grumbling into something actually polite… unbeknownst to him, however, the cats’ tentative truce ends the second he isn’t around. Then, the claws and sharp fangs come out).
This is the first Christmas the Black brothers have spent at the Potters, and James will do whatever it takes to make the holiday perfect.
Including...
Standing outside of the Slytherin Common Room for nearly thirty minutes under his Invisibility Cloak. Fortunately, right as James is about to start guessing potential passwords… or bribing the first Snake he stumbles upon to give it to him… Regulus Black’s pint-sized protégé turns the corner. Following closely behind Honeywood, James makes it into the Slytherin Common Room without further trouble. And thanks to years of sneaking into the Snakeput to pull off various pranks, James is exceptionally familiar with the layout. Quietly entering the fifth-year boys’ dorm, he removes his wand from his pocket and slides the Cloak off.
“Evening, gentleman.” James dodges a nasty curse from Crouch and blocks another from Rosier with a nonverbal Shield Charm. “Now, now, that’s not a way to treat a guest, is it?” In response, Rosier sends a volley of spells at him, which James effortlessly prevents from striking his person… besides the last one, which singes the hem of his robes. “Oi, what the fuck? I come in peace!”
“Forgive us for our skepticism, Saint Potter,” Rosier sneers. James frowns at the unusual hostility. They aren’t friends, yeah, but he didn’t think they were enemies!
Crouch, the more social of Baby Black’s best mates, slings an arm over his shorter friend’s shoulders. “Let’s hear ‘em out, Ev. Least we can do for all the effort Potter put into breaking into our dorm, yeah?”
James winces, because yeah, he can see why they’d be pissed.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but I seek your wise counsel.” Neither of the two Slytherins react to his declaration. Damn, tough crowd. “Since this is Regulus’s first Christmas away from… that place… I want to make sure it’s absolutely perfect -”
“Yeah, and I want to punch that smug smirk off your mediocre-looking face!” Rosier tries to lunge for James, but the Gryffindor leaps out of the way. “You have some bloody nerve!”
“Don’t mind him,” Crouch huffs, straining against his incensed, psychotic friend, who is struggling madly to break the other Slytherin’s hold.
“MIND ME, POTTER, BECAUSE YOUR AUDACITY IS FUCKING ASTOUNDING!”
Affronted, James squawks, “It’s audacious to want Regulus to have a good Christmas?! What kind of friends are you?”
“A GOOD CHRISTMAS AT HOGWARTS, YOU MEAN?!”
“... what?”
“YEAH, YOU HEARD ME… REGULUS IS STAYING AT HOGWARTS THIS YEAR -”
“UHHH, SINCE WHEN?” he shouts, matching the younger Slytherin’s volume.
“SINCE YOU DIDN’T INVITE HIM TO YOUR HOUSE, YOU POMPOUS ASSHAT!”
James blinks. “I… I thought it was implied!”
“Woo, told you so. Five galleons to me!” Crouch jerks his hand away from Rosier, just in time to prevent teeth from sinking into his flesh. Who knew Slytherins, a house notoriously filled with elitist snobs, were so feral and uncivilized?! “Can I trust you to behave now that we’ve concluded this is all just a misunderstanding?”
Rosier’s innocent smile doesn’t fool James. “Oh, of course.” He’s not surprised when the Snake punches him in the arm, but since that pathetically weak hit hurt Rosier more than it hurt him, James lets it slide.
“For the record,” Crouch says, lounging on his bed, while James stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, “you always have to tell Regulus things outright. He doesn’t do ‘implied’. Ever.” He stares at the Gryffindor like he’s trying to communicate something more, but whatever it is, it goes right over James’s head.
“Because he has manners!” Baby Black’s childhood friend (and distant cousin, if James remembers correctly), hisses.
It’s comforting when Crouch rolls his eyes in response. Without fail, Evan Rosier is always the first to rush to Regulus’s defense. But in the months following Regulus's disownment, James knows it's Barty Crouch Jr who is the most calculating, vindictive, and bloodthirsty of the pair. He would rather be on Rosier’s bad side and get an earful, than Crouch’s bad side, and legitimately fear for his safety! Of course, that’s not to say Rosier wouldn’t flay James alive if he hurt a hair on Regulus’s pretty little head, but Crouch? Blimey, the rumors about his misdeeds are toe-curling! They make Sirius look reasonable and sane (also said with lots of love, but Sirius Black will be the first to admit he’s violently overprotective when it comes to his little brother).
“Absolutely nobody would dispute that.” James tentatively sits on the edge of Regulus’s four-poster. To his surprise, Calypso moseys out from underneath the bed and jumps into his lap. “Aww, hello little demon. Did you have fun visiting your family in hell?” He’s not fooled by the cat’s snow white fur - despite what Regulus says, she is no angel.
A fallen angel maybe, James muses to himself, scratching the hellion under her chin, exactly the way she likes.
“How dare -”
Crouch throws his head back and cackles. “Merlin, that is spot on… oh hush, Evan. We both know Callie would take a chunk out of Potter if he offended her.”
“Whatever,” Rosier grumbles, throwing himself down beside his mate. How he can still look petulant while cuddling up beside his friend is beyond James’s comprehension. “So, what are you going to say if Reg waltzes in here? We should get our stories aligned, yeah?"
“He won’t,” James says unconcernedly, ignoring the sarcasm.
“What did you do to Regulus, Potter?!”
“Nothing, geez! I just made sure he was doing his Prefect patrol with Lily tonight -”
“Your girlfriend?”
Realizing Rosier is baiting him makes it a smidgeon easier to resist snapping back at the aggravating tosser.
"She is not my girlfriend, nor do I want her to be. We are friends."
Even after learning the object of his infatuation preferred witches to wizards, James struggled to move past his crush for months. But then a little doe-eyed Slytherin moved into his house, and James forgot all about her...
Rosier makes a noncommittal noise, which is leagues better than 'suspicious'!
"Remind me again why you're here?" Crouch asks, fingers carding through his mate's hair in a surprising show of physical affection.
"I'm looking for ideas to ensure Regulus has the best Christmas ever, please."
"Why?"
James only has so much patience, okay?
"Because I want to torture him with holiday cheer and make sure his holiday break from Hogwarts is the most miserable of his life... why do you think, Rosier?"
"Well, I think -"
"I think I have some great ideas," Crouch blessedly interjects.
Bold words, but their conversation is not as productive as James would have hoped. Rosier is cagey with his answers, and Crouch is just… unfussed? For gifts, he swears Regulus would love any book in the world, ‘You can never go wrong with one about creatures’. But that’s so boring and impersonal!
Of course, this little adventure did provide a vital piece of information.
“Lot of effort to come all the way down here for our opinions," Crouch muses as James jots down the last of his notes. "You know, seeing as how you share a room with the bloke’s own brother.”
James shrugs. “I like different perspectives.”
He doesn't realize Crouch snuck up behind him until the bloke speaks. “Then trust me when I say, Regulus considers waking up before noon to be the unholiest of sins.”
“Erm… what?”
“Reg hates waking up before noon,” Rosier ‘translates’ for him. “To an unnatural degree.”
“So, your ‘watch a winter sunrise’ plan is definitely a no-go. Along with -”
James slams the book closed. “I understood what you meant. But Regulus always arrived for breakfast by nine in the morning at my house.”
He doesn’t like Crouch’s pitying look… and he definitely doesn’t appreciate Rosier’s offended one.
“Did you tell him he wasn’t going to get kicked out or starve to death if he arrived later?” In response to Rosier’s question, James smacks his forehead against Regulus's desktop. “Sorry, what was that, Potter? Couldn’t hear what you said over the sound of you trying to punish yourself like a house elf!”
“I thought it was implied!”
Leaving Regulus's room with more questions than answers, James has to press himself against the wall to avoid a pair of Snakes leaving the third-year boys’ dorm.
“There’s nothing we can do, Levi,” one of the boys murmurs, blocking James's path forward. “If Wylan won’t tell us who’s bothering him -”
“Did you see his face?!” the Levi bloke cries, before being shushed by his mate. “It’s been going on for ages, we have to do something! My sister is getting suspicious about why I keep asking for bruise paste, she might not even brew us another batch -”
“He should tell Black himself,” the first boy firmly counters. “He won’t appreciate us tattling for him. And if Leia won’t do it, we’ll figure it out ourselves.”
Thankfully, the two boys continue their bickering while meandering towards the Common Room. A half-baked idea forms in James’s head, and before he can think too long about it, he slips into the third-year boys’ dorm.
Upon confirming the kid is alone, he shucks the Invisibility Cloak off. “Nasty bruise you got there, kiddo,” James hums. “Regulus is gonna go ballistic when he sees it.”
Whirling around, the Keeper’s eyes flash with fear. He doesn’t reach for his wand, but he looks seconds away from screaming for help. “Potter, what are you -”
Holding his hands out to show he’s wandless, James leans against the wall to avoid spooking the younger Snake. “I’m here to make you a deal, Honeywood.”
“Not interested,” the kid huffs, then bravely (or stupidly, depending on one’s perspective), turns his back to James.
“Yeah? What are you planning to tell Reg next time you see him?”
“Won’t need to tell him a thing,” Honeywood mutters petulantly. “It’ll be gone by morning.”
Ah, that’s right. The bruise paste. Well, drastic times call for drastic measures.
“And when I tell him?”
The Keeper spins around, wand in hand. “You can’t -”
“And I won’t, if you tell me what I need to know.”
“Which is?”
Jeez, all Slytherins really are suspicious and untrusting, aren't they? James thought it was a posh Pureblood thing, but nope. Honeywood is a Muggleborn, which is likely the root of his issues with… well, whoever is harassing him.
“What does Regulus want for Christmas?”
(Personally, James already received the best gift ever - his best mate under his roof, away from the House of Horrors that Walburga and Orion Black call home, with his adored little brother by his side. The only thing that will ever top that is the old crone’s head on a plaque... or a Potter heirloom on Regulus's ring finger.)
Honeywood’s answer is immediate. “His family back.” The runt rolls his eyes at James’s disbelief. “Everyone knows his parents are tossers. But the rest? Even his brother had relatives he got on with.”
That’s… that is true, though one of the main ones Sirius liked was disowned for running off with a Muggleborn. But how can James fix that?
“Anything else?” The kid shrugs and shakes his head. Annoyed, James crosses his arms over his chest and pins Honeywood with one of Remus’s best, ‘I-Am-Very-Disappointed-In-You’ looks. “You know, you’re going to have a tough time playing Quidditch and practicing spells if you don’t have those fingers set properly.”
The runt hems and haws about it, but James knows a broken finger when he sees one, let alone a whole hand worth!
“Hey, Padfoot, you’re coming to my house for the ‘hols, right?” Uncaring if he’s breaking up a snogging session, James opens Sirius's bed curtains and flops face first onto his mate's bed.
“If you don’t kill me first, yes,” Sirius dramatically wheezes, when James lands atop him.
Tucking his face into the crook of Sirius’s neck, James wraps his arms around him and squeezes with all of his might. “Reg too, yeah?”
“He spoke in the affirmative,” Remus laughs, rubbing soothing circles along the back of James’s neck, exactly the way he likes. Tension seeps from his muscles in droves.
“That’s interesting, because Rosier and Crouch just informed me Baby Black is staying at Hogwarts.”
And just like that, James finds himself on the floor of their dorm room.
“LIKE HELL HE IS!” Sirius steps over his best mate’s prone body. “Be right back, lads!”
Remus, the best person in the world, offers him a hand up. “Visit to the Snakepit go well?”
“No.” James drops his forehead onto his friend’s shoulder. “I’m fucked, Moony.”
“I wouldn’t say that. But…” He grimaces. “You really do tend to have the most, erm… challenging crushes.”
James would like it to be known that his unfortunate crush on one Regulus Black is not the reason behind his goal to give the Black brothers the best holiday of their lives (unfortunate in the sense that Regulus is his best mate’s adored younger brother, and a bloke who doesn’t give a rat’s arse about him).
Before this summer, things were simpler. James could appreciate Regulus’s otherworldly beauty from afar, and that was that. But then said ethereal being appeared on his doorstep, sopping wet and looking rather worse for wear, yet still so breathtakingly beautiful. After living in relative close proximity with him for two months, James became convinced of Regulus’s divinity. Now, he can no longer ignore the glaring truth - he fancies his best mate’s little brother. But how could he not?! Regulus is perfect; kind, gentle, insanely intelligent, and fiercely protective of those he loves, with a heart bigger than James could ever have imagined. Being in the same room as Regulus for a few minutes can put a pip in James's step for the rest of the day. Yes, okay, he's also as Sirius says - snarky, quarrelsome, and ‘dead set on being right’. But James doesn't think those are bad things, though. He appreciates Regulus’s wit!
Another terrible truth - James was fortunate that Sirius had been so caught up in his own emotions, for it allowed his crush to go unnoticed. Sadly, his other best mate wasn't easily fooled. Remus, who can sniff out when James is hiding something better than his own mum can, cornered him on the train back to Hogwarts. Trapped together in the loo under a layer of privacy charms, James found himself confessing his crush on Regulus with hardly a word said on Remus’s part. His best werewolf pal insists he should tell Sirius, which yeah, no fucking thanks. It’s not like anything is going to come of it. Regulus being gay does NOT mean he’ll ever feel a thing other than indifference for his brother’s best mate.
Fortunately, Sirius succeeds in his mission (though it takes him until the next morning to do so). Smartly, he approaches the Head of Slytherin House during breakfast to prevent him from running off. By Slughorn’s exasperated expression, Regulus’s apologetic one, and Dumbledore’s look of amusement (which disappears after a glare from McGonagall), the elder Black brother raised hell and high water to get his brother’s name off the ‘staying at Hogwarts’ list.
Several days pass before James finds a moment to speak to Regulus alone. They’re in the corridor after their last exam of the day… or rather, Regulus is in the hallway after his last exam of the day. James is coincidentally in the same spot during his walk through the castle.
“I’m sorry for my poor manners,” James says in a rush, falling in step with the Slytherin. He winces when the youngest Black flinches, and hurriedly puts more space between them. “I should have extended an invitation for the holidays. That would have been proper.”
Regulus doesn’t look at him. “Sirius said I was daft for many reasons, including not asking either you or him. So, no need for an apology, Potter. The misunderstanding is solely on my behalf.”
“It’s James,” he corrects. Again. For like the millionth time. Regulus’s lips quirk up in the corners, the little shite. “Also, assuming is impolite. The polite thing is to say things outright. So, respectfully, the fault is mine.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.”
They chat amicably for the remainder of the walk to the Great Hall… and by ‘chat amicably’, he of course means, ‘argue heatedly over professional Quidditch teams’. Envy bubbles in his veins when Regulus perks up at the sight of his mates waiting for him in the Entrance Hall.
“Oh! Before I forget.” James sweats internally as the youngest Black’s gaze bores into his own. “Thank you for handling Wylan’s… uhh, situation... with those older kids.”
Fuck.
“Who’s Wylan?”
“Honeywood?” Regulus says slowly, like he’s not sure if James is being facetious or not. His heart twinges with guilt. “Our team’s Keeper?”
“Yes, of course. Your underling.”
“He is not my underling!”
“Minion?”
“No.”
“Henchman.”
“No!”
“Sidekick?”
“I will kick you, James Potter!” The Gryffindor beams at the use of his first name… it counts, okay!
“Please, don’t,” James says around his grin.
Regulus grumbles and grouches under his breath, but quickly regains his composure. “As I was saying… thank you -”
“You said that already… oof!”
“You deserved that.”
James rubs his aching shin. “I’ll take your word for it. Also, I didn’t do anything -”
“Save your breath. Wylan told me everything.”
When I get my hands on you, runt!
“Did he, now?”
“Well… no, not exactly.” Regulus scowls at him, like it’s James’s fault his disciple is being tight-lipped. “He only said you struck a deal, and in return for his unknown part in said deal, ‘wiped the floor with some blood purist twats’.”
He takes back his previous rage-induced threat. Kid made James look even better than he was! Their deal was that Wylan tells him about Regulus’s interests, while James heals his wounds and never breathes a word about it to the Slytherin Captain. After getting way more information than he could have dreamed of, all it took was some covert observation via the Marauder’s Map to pinpoint who was harassing the pint-sized Keeper (seriously, he is so small, it's a miracle that he's so talented at his position... and it's also super fucking irritating, considering he blocks James's shots the most out of the three Gryffindor Chasers). Nothing brightens James and Sirius’s day more than putting bigoted arseholes in their place. He didn’t even need to mention Honeywood to his best mate. Sirius didn’t press for more information, content in James’s explanation that the blokes were spewing vile insults to some miscellaneous Muggleborns).
“I see.”
“Yes.” Regulus’s smile has James tensing. “And I would like to see who these ‘blood purist twats’ are for myself, please.”
Fuck.
“Go check the Hospital Wing -”
“Already did, I couldn’t get close enough.” James does not coo aloud at the younger boy’s disappointed pout, that would be a death sentence. “So, spill.”
Taking a deep breath, James gathers his Gryffindor courage and says, “No.”
“Pardon?”
It’s not that James holds any personal loyalty to the Slytherin Keeper. But he did promise the kid he wouldn’t say anything. And even though it wasn’t Wylan himself who told James the names of the blokes bothering him, it was close enough. James Potter keeps his word, okay? The prettiest of boys in the world demanding he spill the beans won't get him to crack.
“Honeywood and I made a deal -”
“I don’t care if you made an Unbreakable Vow with him, James! As fellow Captains, tell me who is harassing my player, or I will make you regret -”
“Oh look, a cat!”
“Seriously? I’m not going to fall for -”
“Mrow?”
Sprinting away from the scene, the Gryffindor makes a mental note to lavish Marlene’s mini-beast in gifts and the finest cat food money can buy.
After their exchange on the Grand Staircase, James throws himself into planning various traditional Christmas activities… oh, and ‘studying’ for the rest of his exams, mostly because disappointing Remus makes him and Sirius want to keel over and die.
“Is your secret girlfriend joining us for the holidays?” Sirius asks, somehow able to sound and look haughty, while being curled up in Remus’s lap. He claims it's because their train compartment is so full, but nobody believes that.
Wonder if Rosier picked that up from him somehow? James wonders. Either that, or it's a trait only the most inbred of Purebloods possess.
Low and behold, taking the Marauder’s Map around with him for a week straight wasn’t one of James’s better ideas. But he quickly learned that Regulus was scarily good at sneaking up on people. Taking it personally that James refused to reveal the names of Honeywood’s harassers, Regulus popped out of the woodwork whenever he had a moment alone. He seemed to operate under the (false) belief that catching the Gryffindor Captain off guard was the best way to get a confession. Which, ha, jokes on him. Yeah, James didn't like being frightened out of his wits, but he relished in having Regulus's attention.
Ironically, bringing the Marauder’s Map with him everywhere also ensured his moments alone were lowered drastically. Convinced his best mate was hiding something, Sirius followed James everywhere, even the lavatory, in hopes of spotting his ‘secret lover’.
James waves off the jeers and catcalls from the other Gryffindor sixth years in their compartment. “As I’ve told you for the millionth time, I don’t have a girlfriend, secret or otherwise.”
“Boyfriend?” Marlene asks with a teasing grin.
Pulling his gaze away from the chess match he’s playing against Peter, James sticks his tongue out at the blonde. “No, Marls. I am as single as can be."
Hopefully not for long, James thinks to himself. Who knows? Maybe there will be a Christmas miracle at Potter Manor this year.
James isn't alone with Regulus again until after dinner that night. Following the meal, they retired to the sitting room so Sirius could regale the Potters with tales of their Hogwarts adventures (the appropriate ones), while James challenged Regulus to what would end up being a fierce chess match. After two hours without a winner, they agreed to take a break.
Thoughts focused on various chess strategies, he fails to pay attention to where he’s going and bumps into Regulus while exiting the lavatory.
“Sorry, sorry, didn’t see you there.” Again, James’s brain goes haywire at the sight of Regulus looking so soft in his house. The Slytherin isn't smiling exactly, but he looks… content. And it fills James’s heart with happiness.
“Maybe new glasses for Christmas are in order?” Regulus sniffs with faux-offense.
James rolls his eyes. “Got new ones before this school year started. You didn’t notice?”
He taps the frames self-consciously. Sirius said they looked better than his old pair, but -
“Of course I did.” Oh… that’s… wow, okay. Pale cheeks tinged pink, Regulus continues, “Unlike you, I’m not blind.”
“Ha, ha, you’re so funny.” James abruptly recalls something the youngest Black’s friends mentioned weeks ago. “You know, you don’t have to join us for breakfast if you don’t want to. No one will be upset if you decide to sleep in.”
“Oh… okay.”
With a wide smile, James claps him on the shoulder. Sparks fly when his hand touches Regulus’s bare skin, his borrowed jumper from Sirius too baggy on his slender frame ('Robes aren't comfy, Reggie. We're being comfortable this Christmas, James insists on it... right, James?')
The next morning, Sirius is visibly concerned when his brother doesn’t appear for breakfast. At lunchtime, when Regulus remains in his room for the second meal of the day, James echoes his best mate's sentiment.
James is attempting to read the newest edition of Quidditch Weekly when Sirius storms into their room. Embarrassingly, he jumps a meter in the air at the sound of the door crashing into the wall.
“Oi, what the -”
Jumping onto the bed, Sirius straddles his waist. “You’ve got some explaining to do, James Potter!” His fingers flex, like he’s itching to grab his wand… or punch James in the face. “And you better start talking!”
He knows the expression Sirius is wearing is not one even he can get away with ignoring. Fuck, James is so dead… and before he got to give Regulus the Black brothers a wonderous holiday too. Oh, it’s a bloody travesty!
Marking his page, James holds his hands up placatingly. “I didn’t mean to, Siri, I swear -”
“DIDN’T MEAN TO TELL REGULUS YOU DON’T WANT HIM TO SHARE A TABLE WITH US AT MEALTIMES, YOU MEAN?!”
“... what?”
“He said you told him you didn’t want him to eat with us!”
“I said he didn’t have to join us for breakfast if he didn’t want to… you know, so he could sleep in?”
Sirius blinks. “Sleep in? Reggie has insomnia. Maintaining a rigid sleep schedule is the only thing that prevents him from staying in bed all day.”
“His friends told me he considers it a sin to be up before noon,” James says defensively.
“Yeah, and that's true.” The Gryffindor-Black smacks him with a spare pillow (since Sirius insists on sleeping with at least six in his bed at all times, he has plenty to choose from). “Doesn’t mean we listen to his whinging, James, come on!”
“Well… after he eats, how about we go get a tree? It’ll burn lots of energy, so he’ll sleep tonight.”
"Deal. Until then, I will burn my extra energy by pummeling you to death via pil -" James unceremoniously whacks Sirius off the bed with a different pillow.
"YOU ARE DEAD, JAMES POTTER!"
For all of his talk, Sirius can be kind of a wuss when Remus isn't around (assuming he's not actually mad). James easily claims the victory.
“This doesn’t seem safe,” Regulus murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut as the truck hits another bump in the road.
Sirius laughs delightedly. “Relax, Reg, I’ve done this a million times before.”
When Fleamont Potter heard about the (ex-)Black heir's interest in Muggle machinery, he leaped at the opportunity to buy a vehicle from a friend of a friend. Anytime Sirius was able to come to Potter Manor for a few days, James had to fight with his dad for his best mate's attention. The two would spend hours upon hours tinkering with the truck in the newly erected 'Man Shed' on the edge of the gardens. James tried his hardest to NOT be a jealous twat about it - it's not like Orion Black was going to do anything halfway decent with his firstborn - but Merlin, sometimes it really got on his nerves.
“That is NOT comforting, brother.”
“You could slow down, Siri,” James says, sympathetically patting Regulus’s hand, do not cry over how soft and silky his skin is, that would be weird. “None of us are going to have a good time if Baby Black chucks up his lunch.”
“He’s not going to barf,” Sirius scoffs, and the same time his brother snaps, “I’m not going to puke, Potter, what the fuck!”
Regardless, the Gryffindor-Black eases up on the gas pedal, allowing them to properly admire the Wiltshire countryside without fighting against waves of nausea.
“Tell me again why we’re passing a forest of trees and not stopping?”
“Because we’re going to a place that specifically grows Christmas trees," James answers patiently. "It’s fun, trust me. I went with my dad the last two years. The bed of the truck is enchanted, so the tree easily fits. And that means we can get a giant one if we want.”
Climbing out of the truck, the crisp winter air immediately nips at their noses. As they walk towards the entrance of the Muggle Christmas tree farm, the snow crunches beneath their boots. Eager to share the Potters' newest tradition with the brothers, James has been buzzing with excitement all week for this moment.
"Alright, you two," James announces with a grin, "welcome to the wonderful world of Christmas tree farming!" He lowers his voice. “Remember, they’re all Muggles, so no talk of magic or the wizarding world, please.”
The farm is a sprawling expanse of evergreens, their branches heavy with snow. Families and couples wander through the rows of trees, laughter and chatter filling the air. Taking in their surroundings, Sirius's eyes sparkle with curiosity, while Regulus peers around with caution.
"We get to choose our own tree?" the youngest Black asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Any tree we want?”
"Sure can!" James says. "We also get to cut it down ourselves. It's a whole experience."
Unconvinced, Regulus continues, “And if another family wants the same tree?”
“We fight to the death… fists only though,” Sirius responds, before James can say, ‘We pick a new tree if they’re insistent on it.’
Worse, the youngest Black nods like his brother's explanation makes sense!
“No fist fighting will occur today, please and thank you. Now, come on, the perfect Christmas tree awaits.”
As they make their way deeper into the farm, James reiterates the process, pointing out the different types of trees and sharing stories of his past Christmases. Sirius's enthusiasm is apparent on his aristocratic face, but Regulus trails behind them at a distance, sipping his hot chocolate. He hasn’t said a word in nearly twenty minutes, letting the two Gryffindors do all the talking.
After wandering for a while, Sirius and James finally agree on a tree - tall, full, and beautifully shaped.
"Yeah, this is definitely the one," Sirius declares. "We have to get it. What do you think… Reg? James, where’s Reg?”
“Mark the tree with this.” He hands his friend the ribbon they received at the entrance. Once Sirius ties it around the trunk, James hurriedly scribbles ‘Potter-Black’ on it.
Sirius glances around like he’s going to shift into his canine Animagus form, but James places a warning hand on his shoulder. “No, Sirius, let’s retrace our steps. If we don’t find him that way, then we'll find somewhere for you to shift.”
There’s too many footprints in the snow to pinpoint Regulus’s specifically. By the time they make it back to the entrance, Sirius is vibrating in place, anxious to find a discreet spot to transform and sniff his brother out. Literally.
“Sirius!”
Both Gryffindors' heads whip around towards the sound. As if sharing one brain, their mouths’ drop open. Regulus leans against the side of their truck, a tree loaded into the bed already. By the fawning Muggles surrounding the younger boy and his smug expression, Regulus didn’t lift a finger during the process.
“Ça t'a pris assez de temps,” the Slytherin says when they approach.
Sirius grabs his brother by the front of his coat. “You can’t just wander off like that, Reg!”
Several Muggles step towards the quarreling pair, but Regulus waves them off.
And then another voice speaks, sending boiling rage coursing through James’s veins.
“Potter.” The hulking Muggle sneers at Sirius. “Black.”
“Apologies, mate,” Sirius says with a simpering smile. “I forgot your name.” Despite knowing that’s a lie - kinda hard to forget a name like Bradley Bradford - James snickers in response.
Regulus looks curiously between the two. “Tu le connais?”
Sirius ignores his brother, too busy trying to stare down the scumbag who tried to take advantage of him the summer before last. Struggling with accepting his sexuality and his intense feelings for their best mate, Sirius asked James to accompany him to a newly opened gay club in the Muggle village closest to Potter Manor. James happily agreed. However, he (stupidly) didn't anticipate Sirius getting plastered off his face and disappearing while James was trying to settle their tab. Finding his wasted best mate in a sketchy alley nearby being pawed at by some Muggle, his vision went red when he realized the bloke was trying to convince Sirius to go home with him. And he might have succeeded, if they hadn't been interrupted!
James quickly weighs the situation at hand. With magic, it’s an easy win. But that’s guaranteed to create An Incident with the Ministry of Magic, something they don’t need, now or ever. They’re outnumbered seven to two. James and Sirius are both fit blokes, but Bradford alone will be difficult to beat in a physical fight. Last summer, James got lucky that several Good Samaritans were around to chase the beefy bloke away before the altercation could progress further than a thrown punch. Face-to-face with the massive Muggle once more, James's jaw twinges at the memory of the singular hit.
One of the Muggles finally gathers enough self-control to tear his gaze away from ogling Regulus like a piece of meat. “Come on, Brad. We don’t want any trouble, yeah? Let’s go.” He smiles shyly at the youngest Black. “Hope to see you around, Regulus.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Julian,” the half-giant scoffs. “Bet he’s a cocktease, just like his brother. These two are nice to look at, sure, but since they don’t put out, they’re not worth the trouble.”
“Whoa, mate -”
Flouncing away from the truck, Regulus steps in front of his sibling. “The fuck did you just say about my brother?”
“I knew you were faking about not knowing English,” Bradford laughs derisively. He moves even closer to the younger teen, looming over him. “Since it’s Christmas, I can find it within my heart to repeat myself. Your brother is the most prudish slag I’ve ever -”
He trails off when Regulus decks him in the face, the punch so hard, it sends the significantly larger bloke sprawling.
Sirius and James gawk at the brawling pair, frozen in place. That’s not really an apt descriptor, though. Regulus is NOT a one hit wonder. He’s a ball of vicious, savage brutality, and he pummels the Muggle, easily twice his size, into the snow with an unyielding relentlessness that’s honestly legitimately terrifying. He doesn’t say a word while he does it either. Bradford isn't given a chance to gather his meager wits and defend himself, making the fight wholly one-sided.
It takes the combined effort of James, Sirius, and two Muggles to pull Regulus off his dazed victim.
“Regulus, stop, you’re going to kill him.”
“Good!” the Slytherin cries, struggling to break away from James. “Good, he deserves to die, how dare he speak down on you, brother, how dare this low life cretin think himself worthy enough to look at someone of your pedigree, let alone touch.” Something appears in Regulus's hand. At first glance, James thinks it’s his wand, but mmm, no, it’s actually worse. “I’ll take his eyes and hang them on our tree.”
“REGULUS!”
“Clearly, he’s undeserving of them, brother!”
“Put that away!” Sirius shrieks. ‘That’ being the knife Regulus pulled out of Merlin-knows-where… his boots, maybe? "Reg, that's so gross, come on, we left all that shite behind."
Yeah, James is just gonna pretend like he didn't hear the insinuation that the Blacks use eyeballs as ornaments on their trees, because that's just... no.
“Gah, fine!”
Regulus lets James buckle him into the back seat of the truck, but whatever he’s muttering in French has Sirius’s ears blazing red. “Oh my… Regulus, where did you learn that?!”
Hopping into the driver’s seat, James rolls down the window and throws a wad of money at the youngest of the Muggles (whose look of hero worship never once wavered, even after his idol tried to gouge his companion’s eyes out). “Sorry, thanks for your help. Keep the change… Happy Christmas!”
Okay, so getting the tree didn’t go as planned. Technically, they no longer have a tree, after Regulus ‘accidentally’ set it on fire the second it was unloaded from the truck.
“THAT WAS IMMATURE, REGGIE!” Sirius shouts at his brother’s back. He gasps like a scandalized maiden when the younger boy flips him off, before disappearing into the house. “Erm… sorry about that. Rumor has it that mother faked her pregnancy because she didn’t want to gain weight again, and with no other choice, tried to pass off the gremlin she found digging in our rubbish bins as hers.”
James frowns at the pile of cinders in his front yard. “Hogwash. Gremlins aren’t that cute. Or loqacious.” Sirius eyes him with an inscrutable expression. “Besides, you both look too much alike for that to be true. Unless that means we need to question your birth, as well?”
“Don’t be silly, mate.” Sirius wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I was a blessing from Merlin himself. Sadly, there was a mix up with the owl post, and I was given to that unworthy hag, instead of someone more deserving… like Minnie.”
“What a shame. If you had been raised by ole’ McGonagall, you’d probably be less annoying.”
“Oi!”
Shoving his friend away with a maniacal laugh, James sprints into the house to avoid Sirius’s retribution.
To James’s disappointment, Regulus doesn’t show up for dinner that night.
“Let him sulk,” Sirius sniffs dismissively. “He’ll come out when he’s hungry.”
They had debriefed James’s parents on the incident, minus the knife part. Neither of them were likely to go into the Muggle village anytime soon, but they should be aware of what transpired in case someone said something to them. Which… was likely, honestly. Regulus really caused quite the stir. Besides, it was better to tell the truth, rather than attempt a lie... especially when one of the parties involved was currently missing.
“You’re all still growing,” his mum counters. “None of you should miss a meal for any reason.”
“Well -“
Aware such punishments were commonplace at Grimmauld Place, James hastily interjects, “I’ll take him a plate after dinner.”
“You’re only encouraging his behavior, Jamie!”
Sirius has to have the final word. James knows this. And yet…
“You were kind of harsh on him, mate.”
For the entire ride back to Potter Manor, Sirius had lectured his sibling on his 'abhorrent' behavior. And while James tried to tune most of it out, he was aware his best mate didn't mince words.
Sirius’s eyes flash defiantly. “On the contrary, I should have been harsher.”
“Mate -“
“What if one of those men had pulled their portable killing sticks on him, huh? Then what? Magic isn’t much use if something like that strikes you at such close range!”
“You don’t know that -“
“It doesn’t matter! He put himself at risk of being hurt, for what?”
“For you, Sirius! For your honor, for your -“
“My honor?” Sirius harrumphs. “Reg wouldn’t have batted an eye if some wizard said that to me -“
All three Potters gape at him in disbelief.
“Son, I don’t happen to know your brother as well as I know you, but let me assure you… that spitfire sibling of yours would wage war against Merlin himself, if he thought the older wizard wasn’t treating you with the respect Regulus believed you deserved. Trust me on this, Sirius. That brawl was not because some Muggle spoke down on you."
“I agree wholeheartedly, but how did you reach this conclusion, Dad?”
Monty Potter wearily rubs a hand over his face. “He was what, eleven, the first time we met him, darling?”
“Ten, I think -“
“Regulus turned fifteen this summer,” Sirius corrects, dead-panned. “If you recall, you were at his birthday dinner.”
With a wry grin, Euphemia Potter shakes her head. “That wasn’t the first time we met Regulus. He approached us on Platform 9 ¾ the summer after your first year, while we were waiting for the train to arrive. Gave us quite the dressing down, if I recall.”
“Said your parents would never approve of their son’s friendship with our son,” his dad continues, “though out of respect for his brother, he was willing to give us a chance. But if we ever so much as put a toe out of line…”
James is pretty sure their shudder isn’t faked.
Sirius sighs aggrievedly. “Bloody hell, I cannot with him.”
It takes everything within him to swallow back his petty comment about how if Sirius doesn't want his brother to look out for him, James will happily accept such sweet, loving devotion from Regulus instead.
“An incredibly vivid imagination that boy has,” Monty chuckles good-naturedly. “Couldn’t be upset, though. It was obvious his only concern was the well-being of his brother.”
“You never told me that story,” James says, half-accusingly.
His mum playfully lobs a cooked carrot at him, hitting him square in the forehead. “Who in their right mind wants to admit to being threatened by a ten-year-old? Not that we needed to be, of course, but good Godric, I had chills down my spine by the end of it!”
“… was that why you spent the summer updating the wards around the Manor?”
Monty shrugs. “Can never be too careful.”
Waiting until the early hours of the morning, Whimsy recruits another one of the elves from the kitchens for her self-assigned mission. Returning to the Christmas Tree Farm, they find the exact tree Sirius and James had picked out and cut it down.
Overjoyed by the surprise, James gathers the Black brothers in the living room.
“Alright, lads, it’s time to decorate this bad boy. Whimsy organized all of the choices we have for decorations into neat piles on the rug, but if there’s anything else you want, we can make a list and go shopping after lunch... no eyeballs, please."
Besides opening presents, James’s favorite part of Christmas is decorating the tree. His parents always let him do whatever he wanted, so long as it wasn’t vulgar/crass/tacky (which meant the ornaments that spewed insults were a no-go, as were the farting fairies).
There's one teeny-tiny problem with James's plan this year.
While Sirius is the most outspoken of the two, Regulus has plenty of firm opinions of his own. And by ‘firm’, James means ‘uncompromising’.
“No, we can’t do that!” Regulus snaps, gesturing to his sketch pad. “See how atrocious it looks? Do you want our tree to be the laughing stock of the wizarding community?”
That was another thing - Regulus believed they should draw out what they wanted to do before beginning. He was adamant that it was the most efficient use of their time. Sirius argued it was dumb and went against the ‘spirit of Christmas’.
“Like your face, you mean?” Sirius retorts waspishly.
And that was another thing. When in conflict - which seemed to always be the case lately - the petty insults came out. It was only a matter of time before one of them took it too far.
Logically then, it made sense that they should have two Christmas trees. No one questioned how Whimsy found a tree nearly identical to the first one within the hour. Didn’t matter in the long run. Because it meant Regulus could decorate one to his heart's delight, while Sirius did the other… and James flittered between the two bossy brothers, mostly offering praise, and when he didn’t think he’d lose a limb for it, an opinion. He envied his parents, who left the three boys to their own devices and hid in another room until they were done. The only saving grace was that neither Sirius nor Regulus were inclined to venture out of the house. Anything they didn’t have, they conjured themselves.
“Of course you’d choose that, you're so predictable,” Sirius scoffs, eyeing his brother’s homemade tree topper with disdain. “That doesn’t even look like Frederick, by the way.”
“And of course you’d use… is that the Grim?" Not quite. It's Sirius's Animagus form, which of course, Regulus doesn't know about. "And you dare to accuse me of being morbid and maudlin!”
The Gryffindor-Black bares his teeth. “You are morbid and maudlin, Reggie. Right, James?”
“I will not be put in the middle of your Sibling Spats,” James says… again… for the fiftieth time. He rolls his eyes at their matching death glares.
With that being said… Sirius isn’t entirely incorrect about one half of Regulus’s tree topper. When the Slytherin turns his back, James casts a few quick spells to fix it up. For the last ten minutes, he watched Regulus fiddling with it, growing increasingly more frustrated the longer he couldn’t ‘get it right’. It made James's chest ache. Regulus was so precious.
Surprise, surprise, not, James chose wrong.
“Oww!” Sirius cries, holding his right arm to his chest. Already, a red welt is visible on his pale skin. “What the fuck was that for, brat?!”
“I never asked for your help, Sirius, and I don’t appreciate you butting into my business!”
Fuck.
“I have no idea what you're going on about!”
In lieu of a verbal explanation, Regulus points to his improved tree topper, which is now an accurate rendering of the two cats residing in Potter Manor. Confused, Sirius’s eyes drift towards James, who internally panics when another pair of gray eyes land on him.
“Erm…”
Again, Whimsy saves the day. “It was Whimsy who fixed Frederick. Whimsy is very sorry for meddling, Regulus Black.” Lowering her gaze to the floor, she holds onto her drooping ears. “Whimsy will go punish herself now.”
James mentally applauds his cunning house elf. Never have the Potters ordered any of their elves to punish themselves for disobeying an order, messing up something, or for any reason whatsoever. Regulus doesn’t know that… actually, no wait, James told him that over the summer, but the Slytherin definitely didn’t believe him.
Whelp, he definitely won't now either.
Regulus’s glittery eyes widen. “No, no, that’s okay. Please don’t do that! I thank you for your kind efforts. It looks much better now. Thanks to you, it’s a perfect representation of Frederick and Calypso.”
“I’ll take that apology now, little star.”
Regulus doesn't respond with words. Instead, he his wand in his brother’s direction. James expects another curse to be sent his best mate’s way, but the only thing that happens is the nasty welt on Sirius’s arm disappearing like it was never there. Recognizing that’s the best he’s gonna get, the Gryffindor-Black returns his attention to his tree.
Hours later, the brothers are finally done. Personally, James likes Regulus’s tree the most. It’s classy and elegant, exactly like the boy himself. At the top of the tree, the two felines pose regally, which adds a nice touch of personality. Sirius’s tree is eclectic and fun, but if James looks at it for too long, it gives him a headache.
Unsurprisingly, Sirius and Regulus are dissatisfied with the Potters' refusal to choose a ‘winner’. Their lips curl in eerily similar ways whenever they’re reminded it isn’t a competition. And when it’s declared that both trees are to be displayed side by side in the living room, with the gifts evenly distributed underneath, the brothers eye the other’s tree like they’re trying to -
While serving them tea and biscuits, Whimsy cheerfully says out of the blue, “Whimsy made sure that all the decorations and the trees themselves are fireproof."
“That was very wise of you, Whimsy,” his mum acknowledges with a grateful smile.
“Some accidents are avoidable, that’s what Whimsy thinks.”
“Unfortunately, not all of them,” Sirius drawls, giving his brother a pointed look.
Regulus glowers in response, but with James’s parents in the room, he bites back his retort.
So, it’s only right that James should stand up for him, yeah?
“Siri, come on, it’s Christmas. That's not cool.”
If anything, that makes the youngest Black more annoyed. Sigh, of course it does.
In retrospect, James was naïve to think his next traditional Christmastime activity would go any different.
Turns out, baking is a minefield ripe for ideological wars, who knew? Not James, that’s for certain!
“That is not what the recipe calls for, Sirius!”
“Relax, Reggie, I know what I’m doing. It’s all about intuition, just like potions.”
“I will do no such thing, brother! Cooking isn’t potions, nor are you familiar enough with it to just 'wing' it!"
“I recognize you don’t have this setting yet, but hey, maybe for Christmas you’ll be able to take that stick out of your arse -"
James’s jaw drops when a fistful of flour hits Sirius in the back of the head. He gulps at the utterly frightening look on his best mate’s face when he spins around.
“I JUST washed my -“
The next handful hits Sirius square in the face.
Hands paler than usual thanks to the flour coating them, Regulus points to James. “He did it.”
“Why, you little -“
Wandlessly, the bowl of batter rises above Sirius’s head. James doesn’t have a chance to move out of the way; the dough splits in half, one striking him, and one… nope, Regulus ducked. Damnit.
“Ha!” James cries when the blob reforms and drops onto Regulus’s head with a plop.
Wiping the goop out of his eyes, Regulus's smile oozes with malicious intent. He grabs an egg off the counter, then stalks across the kitchen. It's like he’s the predator, and James is very much the prey. For his troubles, the Gryffindor Captain receives an egg down the front of his jumper, which Regulus then breaks against his abdomen, and oh, that's an uncomfortable sensation.
After that, it’s an all out war.
Fun fact - St Mungo’s is a nightmare right before the holidays. It's even worse when you're covered in baking ingredients and blood.
Realizing the three teenage boys under his roof are all spiraling towards a breakdown, Fleamont Potter pulls some strings, and gets his nonbiological charges seen before the waterworks can begin (James wasn't hurt physically, only emotionally, why can't I ever do anything right?)
“Remus, I just don’t understand it!” James vents, pacing wildly in front of his best mate’s couch.
He feels wretched dropping in on Moony right before the full moon, but he’s going to combust if he doesn’t get this off his chest. His parents write it off as ‘sibling stuff’. James disagrees. There’s gotta be more to it than that. Sure, Sirius and Regulus regularly bicker - it seems to be a trait all Blacks possess. But they’re never so mean... or destructive, with property or each other!
“One minute they’re ignoring each other, then Regulus is going off on someone in defense of Sirius's virtue, then they’re at each other’s throats again and again… then they’re sobbing uncontrollably over accidentally hurting the other!" That had been terrifying. James thought Sirius had killed his brother when he tackled the younger boy to the ground, which caused Regulus's skull to smack brutally against the kitchen tile. In retaliation, Regulus's magic sent Sirius crashing into the ceiling. Unluckily, he then fell right back down onto his sibling. "Then, the second the Healers clear them, they’re back to squabbling like children!”
“You realize Regulus is still technically a child, right?” Remus says bluntly. James doesn’t take it personally. He knows his friend is always more straightforward right before the moon. “Both Sirius and Regulus had a dreadful upbringing, and frankly, I don't think we'll ever fully grasp the extent of what they endured in that shoddy excuse for a home. Now, they’re basically orphans.” He holds a hand up when James opens his mouth. “Sirius likely feels secure in your house. However, I can all but guarantee Regulus doesn’t. And that’s not your fault, James, or your parents, so get that distraught look off your face. Some things just are.”
“Okay, but why would that set them off on each other?”
Remus nibbles on one of the cookies James brought as bribery for his best mate’s infinite wisdom... made by the house elves. “Well, from what I’ve pieced together over the years, I think their parents pitted them against each other. Constantly. They’re used to competing. Eventually, they realized neither of them would ever ‘win’, not truly. So, they played along enough to survive. But your house is different.”
“Which is a lot of words to say they’re trying to outshine the other to impress you and your parents,” Remus’s mum, Hope Lupin, laughs. “And they take their frustrations out on each other, because that's how they were taught to handle their emotions. But they also know the other will give us good as he gets, without leaving. Lots of abandonment issues with those two in general, though not with each other.”
Mentally drained, James drops to the floor and shamelessly sprawls out on the Lupin's insanely comfortable rug. “What am I supposed to do? This is not the spectacular Christmas I imagined!”
“Lower your expectations,” Remus and Hope say at the same time, which okay, that’s creepy.
“You know Regulus’s idea of a good time is curling up in front of the fire and reading a book, right? Everyone, including him, knows you mean well, but give the kid a break, Jamie. It might be partially contributing to why he’s trying to maim my lovely, but admittedly vexing, boyfriend.”
Hope hums in agreement. “This is cheesy, but it might also help to remember the true meaning of Christmas. It’s about spending time with loved ones. Quality time. Have you asked either of them what they want to do?”
“No,” James groans, covering his face with his arm. Fuck, he’s the worst, isn’t he?
James doesn't get a chance to put the Lupin's advice into action. When he returns home, the brothers are already in bed, despite the relatively early hour. Christmas Eve then dawns bright and early for Sirius and James. Before the sun is fully in the sky, Regulus barges into their shared room.
“I had a nightmare,” Regulus says, clambering onto the bed. Without a word, Sirius lifts the edge of the covers up, so his brother can crawl under the duvet with them. But the Slytherin doesn’t accept the invitation. “Something happened to Remus.”
Marginally more awake, Sirius mutters, “Yeah? What happened to Rem?”
“He died.”
“Moony is fine,” James argues, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “We can go -”
“I have a really bad feeling about it all, brother.”
That’s all it takes to rouse the Gryffindor-Black from his slumber. Within five minutes, Sirius is out of Potter Manor. Only then does James notice Regulus is dressed for the day.
“There was no nightmare, was there?”
“There was, just not about Remus… now, hurry up, James Potter! I doubt he’ll come back soon since it’s his beloved, but you never know.”
Blimey, Baby Black is relentless. Too soon for his liking, James’s face is clean, and he’s dressed in warm Muggle clothes. Last but not least, he’s dragged into the drawing room by a bossy angel.
Our hands fit really nicely together, James sleepily muses to himself, standing obediently in front of the fireplace.
“May I inquire as to where we are going?”
There’s a wicked gleam in Regulus’s eyes that he doesn’t like. “Shopping.”
James groans.
Regulus does take some pity on him. Before they hit the stores, he uses their linked hands to guide James into a bakery. He even lets his younger companion order for him. Honestly, he’ll eat anything that doesn’t eat him first.
“What are we shopping for, precisely?” he asks, pleased to discover Regulus bought his favorite earl gray tea. A coincidence, or does he know what James likes? His Gryffindor courage fails him when he needs it most - he cannot bring himself to ask. “You seem like the sort of bloke who had his presents sorted out by December 1st.”
“November 1st, actually,” comes the snooty response. “I don’t like distractions while studying for exams.” ‘Course you don't, cuz you’re a swot, little love. “However, at that time, I assumed I was staying at Hogwarts. But last night, I realized I didn’t have a gift for your parents.”
“You don’t need to get them anything -”
“Of course, I do!” Regulus screeches. His cheeks burn bright when several passersby glance their way. “They put a roof over my head, someone they didn’t know, and then go out of their way to assure I feel comfortable underneath it. Of course I have to get them something, James!”
Knowing this isn’t an argument he’s going to win, James pitches several ideas for gifts, but Regulus dislikes every single one of them. Most he calls ‘cheap’. Others, he calls less nice words, but the sentiment is similar. It’s not good enough for Euphemia and Fleamont Potter… which sort of makes James feel bad, because maybe he really should put more effort into his parents’ presents.
Regulus drags James all over tarnation; Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, a shopping district in France, Muggle London, and a few other places he's never heard of. Where James finds his infinite patience from, he’ll never know, but he’s glad for it. The longer they search for the ‘perfect’ gift, the more frazzled Regulus becomes. Eventually, James is forced to intervene.
He tugs Regulus down a vacant side street.
“Baby Black.” Carefully, James presses the younger boy against the brick wall of some posh clothing shop, then brackets him in with his arms. “Can you please take a deep breath for me?”
They found an ‘adequate’ gift for his dad in a toy store. James had balked at the exorbitant price of the Limited Edition model train set, but Regulus dismissed his concerns… then to spite him, added another set of tracks to his purchase. Fleamont Potter loved this sort of stuff, James knew his dad was going to be thrilled. That was hours ago though. Since then, Regulus has struggled to pick out the 'perfect' gift for his mum.
“I’m fine.” Regulus tries to push past him, but James doesn't budge. “We’re wasting precious time.”
“You’re going to collapse if you don’t take a break, and then we’ll waste even more time.”
Looking adorably vexed, Regulus sucks in a lungful of air, then exhales it right in James’s face. “There, happy?”
Figures someone as perfect as him wouldn’t suffer from bad breath after all the snacks I force-fed him.
“I’d be happier if you spent a little more time looking after yourself.”
Regulus inhales sharply. “Oh, that’s it, that's it! Come on, James, we have to go back to France.” Lunging forward, he pecks James on the corner of his mouth, millimeters from his lips.
“Yeah, and what are we doing there?” James asks dazedly. First the near-kiss, then being hand-in-hand with Regulus again? His heart soars to worrying heights.
“Getting a gift certificate to a spa, and I know just the place!” (Which costs even more than the train set, because of course Regulus has to get the most expensive thing available).
James tugs at the collar of his stiff dress robes, wishing he’d worn something more comfortable. But Sirius, a fashion expert if there ever was one, was adamant that these robes were ‘the one’. He added in a whole bunch of compliments too, though James doesn’t really remember them (said with love, but he takes them with a grain of salt, since Sirius tends to say whatever he needs to get his way).
As he stands at the edge of the ballroom, a sense of awe and gratitude washes over him. The house elves outdid themselves tonight, transforming the grand space into a magical winter wonderland. The high ceilings are adorned with enchanted icicles that glow softly, casting a gentle light that dances across the room. Garlands of holly and ivy are draped elegantly along the walls, their leaves shimmering with a touch of frost. The centerpiece of the room is the magnificent Christmas tree, reaching nearly to the ceiling (decorated solely by the elves). It’s covered in twinkling fairy lights, delicate glass ornaments, and shimmering tinsel. At the top of the tree, a golden star glows warmly, casting a soft halo over the entire room.
The tables, set with fine china and crystal glasses, are decorated with beautiful arrangements of poinsettias and candles, their flickering flames adding to the warm and inviting atmosphere. The fireplace roars with a cheerful fire, the crackling logs creating a peaceful background soundtrack to the laughter and chatter of the guests.
The guests at the Potter's Annual Christmas Eve Gala are dressed in their finest holiday attire. Every face he sees wears an expression of joy or contentment. James's heart swells as he watches Sirius and Regulus laughing together across the room, their earlier troubles forgotten. This was exactly what he hoped for - a night filled with love, laughter, and the magic of Christmas.
That’s not all you hoped for, his inner voice muses. He hurriedly glances away from a wizard pressing a chaste kiss to his date’s bearded cheek.
James searches for a few familiar faces in the crowd, but he doesn’t see who he’s looking for. Fighting back his disappointment, he’s making his way towards the Black brothers when someone grabs his arm.
“Not a bad party, Potter,” Rosier says, arm-in-arm with his best mate… and date, if Crouch’s hungry, appraising eyes are anything to go by.
Seeming to remember himself, Crouch meets James's amused gaze without faltering. “I expected more red and gold, honestly. And wild antics. Bit of a let down.”
“This is technically my parents’ party,” James laughs. “And if you want ‘antics’, wait until the drinks start kicking in. Our elves don’t do light pours, unless you specifically request it.”
“Their party, though you cannot deny you commandeered part of the guest list.” The taller Slytherin whistles. “Is that Newt Scamander talking to Reg?”
“You’re shitting me,” Rosier gasps. “You got the Newt Scamander to come to your party?... how much did you pay him?”
The Potter heir rolls his eyes. “Nothing. He’s friends with my parents. He comes every year.” And if James happened to mention to the magizoologist (and the magizoologist's much more social wife) that Regulus was a huge fan of his, no one needs to know.
“Does that vampire with him come every year too? And... bloody hell, how did you get Honeywood here?”
James blushes. "My dad Apparated him."
Standing on his tiptoes to see across the room, Rosier tugs on his mate’s sleeve. “Barty, Barty, that’s not just any vampire, it's Sanguini!”
“Okay…”
“He's rumored to have penned those romance novels Regulus is obsessed with!”
“Seemed shitty to ask him for an advanced copy of his next book without inviting him in return,” James says, idly sipping his drink… which he almost spills on himself when Rosier whirls around with a frenzied look in his eye.
“What are you playing at, Potter?”
“I don’t know what you -”
“This is like Slughorn’s annual Christmas party for the Slug Club, but personalized to Regulus… you’re trying to court him, aren’t you?”
No point in denying it.
“Trying, being the operative word.”
“Have you informed him you’re ‘trying’ to court him?” Crouch asks dubiously.
“No…”
“Merlin, you never learn, do you?”
“Barty? Evan?" a familiar voice gasps. "What are you two doing here?!”
For the event, Regulus is dressed to the nines in midnight blue dress robes, which bring out his glittery gray eyes. His curls are gelled to frame his face, and silver dangly earrings hang from his ears. He’s an absolute sight to behold, so beautifully elegant, it makes James’s knees weak.
“We aren’t crashing, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Crouch chuckles fondly at Regulus’s stammered protests, and to James's immense envy, wraps his arms snugly around his friend. “Potter invited us!”
Under Regulus’s questioning gaze, James shrugs sheepishly. “I wanted you to feel comfortable. This is your home too, which means it's also your party.”
The Slytherin opens his mouth, but a noticeable hush falls over the room.
“Potter, you are a mad man,” the tallest of the Slytherin trio says brightly, looking at the newest arrivals in awe. “Ya know, I’m really starting to see what all the birds and half of the blokes are always going on about. Who could have imagined that James Potter's unfairly fit physique isn't the best part about him?” Crouch doesn't seem fazed by the two dark scowls suddenly directed his way.
“Does Sirius know?” Rosier asks, curling himself around Regulus instead.
James winces. “Erm… no.” Neither witch responded to the invitation he penned himself, so he assumed they weren’t coming.
Because his rotten luck couldn’t go away for a single night, Andromeda and Narcissa just had to arrive at the same time.
“Are those my robes?” the older of the two witches asks in disbelief.
Narcissa scoffs. “Please, like I’d ever wear anything you owned. Your taste has always been subpar.”
“What would you know about taste, Cissy?” the brunette counters with a sickeningly sweet smile. “I don’t see Lucius around to tell you what to like.”
“Ladies, ladies, it’s Christmas!” Sirius exclaims as he approaches his rowing cousins, his cheeks flushed from wine and dancing. Remus trails after him, a protective presence, though he doesn't interfere. Yet. “Let’s save the fighting for Boxing Day, as the name suggests.” His eyes suddenly narrow. “Andie, are those my earrings?”
“Always so quick to throw accusations around, cousin,” Narcissa sneers. “Like it’s our fault you can’t keep track of your stuff?”
“Okay, maybe this wasn’t my best idea,” James confesses, wilting under Rosier and Crouch’s, ‘Yeah, you think?’ looks.
A single tear slips from Regulus’s eyes. “No, it’s perfect.” He squeezes James’s hand. “Thank you.”
He skips off towards his bickering family members, who have at least switched to French to avoid causing more of a scene.
“Wow, you’ve got it bad, mate.” Crouch claps him so hard on the shoulder, James worries his knees will buckle. “Good luck. Remember what I said.”
With Regulus’s intervention, his relatives don't draw their wands on each other. Then, James and the other guests get a firsthand look at what has to be some sort of 'Black family tradition'.
Another fun fact! It’s not just the brothers who compete against each other. The Black sisters do too, though NO competition is fiercer than the girl cousins vs. the boy cousins.
“I’m telling you, they’ve gotta be using magic,” Remus asserts when Sirius and Regulus complete a flawless move that involves the elder of the two lifting the younger boy over his head and spinning around.
The dance-off between the warring Blacks shows no signs of slowing down, though it's gone on for at least three songs now. James is exhausted just watching them! Apparently, Narcissa and Andromeda were more than willing to put their issues aside in the name of (un)healthy competition. To their visible frustration, Regulus and Sirius are managing to hold their own. James has a sneaking suspicion the girls are used to winning.
After the witches complete a move that makes James’s heart stop from how dangerous it is, he decides to intervene. The band begins to play a slower song, it's now or never, James Potter. You can do this. Gathering his Gryffindor courage, James approaches the Blacks.
Tapping Sirius on the shoulder, James politely clears his throat. “May I cut in?” Looking relieved, Regulus steps away from his brother. Before either brother can blink, James angles his body between the two and grabs Regulus’s hands. “Thanks, mate.”
“Oi, I didn’t agree!”
Regulus shrugs. “Dance with your boyfriend.”
“Yeah, Siri,” Narcissa hums, her voice brimming with challenge. “Let’s see if he can keep up.”
Andromeda laughs dismissively. “Doubt it. Just look at him, Cissa!”
"Uh, if you want your eyes to remain in your head, you better keep them off my man!"
“They’re going to eat Remus alive,” Regulus whispers when they spin away. “Which is sad. Cuz I like him.”
I like you, James thinks to himself.
“What was that?”
Shite.
“Uhh… I said Remus can hold his own. Trust me. He may not have attended the fancy dance lessons you lot took, but he’s stronger and more flexible than us. Combined. I'd be more worried about Sirius attacking your cousins."
James understands Regulus’s skepticism isn’t personal. “If you say so.” Not like he knows about Remus’s lycanthropy or anything. "Also, Sirius wouldn't do that. Maybe if it was one on one, but since it isn't, he's smart enough to know his odds aren't great." He pauses. "Don't tell him I said that."
"My lips are sealed."
"Oh, trust me, James Potter, I am aware."
They complete the vow with a pinky promise.
The music swells, and they begin to move in sync across the dance floor. Without their chatter to distract him, James is acutely aware of every subtle gesture and movement, from the way Regulus's fingers are intertwined with his, to the slight smile playing on his dance partner’s lips. It’s intoxicating, feeling the gentle rhythm of Regulus's breath and the subtle strength in his athletic frame. He can’t help but marvel at how natural it is to dance with Regulus, despite the fluttering chaos inside him. It’s as if they’re perfectly attuned to each other's movements, gliding effortlessly across the floor. The world around them fades away, leaving only the music and the unspoken connection between them.
James can barely contain the thrill of being this close to Regulus. He tries to stop himself from smiling like a loon, but he’s only human. His mind races with thoughts of what this could mean for them in the future, but for now, he’s content to lose himself in the dance, cherishing every second they're together.
As the song draws to a close, a pang of longing grips his heart. James wishes this moment could last forever. But he shouldn’t be greedy. Tonight isn’t about him, it's not about what he wants. It’s about Regulus... and Sirius.
“Another?” the Slytherin asks quietly, his gaze sweeping across the dancefloor. When James takes too long to answer, he turns his full attention to the older boy in front of him. “Erm… nevermind, sorry -”
“Yes!” James says way too loudly, given the way Regulus flinches in response. “Sorry. But yes, I would like to dance again.”
They reach for each other at the same time… but trouble arises when they try to move outside of their little bubble.
“Oh.” Regulus stares up at the ceiling… no, not the ceiling, but at a piece of mistletoe floating above their heads. “That’s probably why we’re stuck.”
Shite, shite, shite.
“I can get rid of it -”
“Wow, you really find kissing me that repulsive?”
“Did I say that?”
“You didn’t have to!”
“Baby Black, this is NOT the time to begin assuming things… please don’t kick me!” He laughs half-hysterically when the Slytherin tries to do it anyway. “Kissing you would legitimately be the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I don’t want it to be under duress!”
“... even better than becoming Quidditch Captain?”
“Oh yeah," James says breezily. "I knew in advance that position was mine. Kissing the Regulus Black is an honor I’d never dream of being worthy enough.”
Regulus blinks. “Careful, James Potter. People might think you fancy me.”
“I DO FANCY YOU, REGULUS!” Shite, shite Sirius is going to kill him... if their scary cousins don’t get to him first! “May I have this kiss, before your brother puts a knife in my back?”
“Sirius wouldn’t stab you in the back.” Regulus twists his fingers in the front of James’s robes and yanks him closer. “He’d do it right in the heart, because he's not a spineless coward.” Wow, that's... all thoughts disappear from James's mind when Regulus tentatively brings their lips together. It’s the best kiss of his life… not that he has many to compare it to, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt, Regulus Black has ruined him for everyone else. “Thankfully for you, Sirius has been telling me to ask you out for ages, even before this summer."
“Yeah?” James smiles dazedly. “Wait… what?!”
"Uh huh. Fancied you from the moment I set eyes on you. ‘Course, Siri knew right away. But how could I not? You’re literally perfect.”
“No, that’s you -“
Regulus continues like James never spoke. “Thought you hated me for a while though, which sucked. Then, when you started talking to me more, but I couldn't tell if you were actually interested in me. And since Siri didn't know, only assumed based on convoluted factors he won’t explain, I kept trying to figure it out, except it was bloody impossible... so, with that out of the way, will you -"
"Yes, all the yesses!… also I could never hate you, you just made me really nervous.”
“James Potter, this is NOT the time to begin assuming things," the Slytherin says mockingly.
That's a fair point, ugh.
"If it wasn't, 'James Potter will you go out with me?', I fear I will die on the spot."
Regulus sweetly pecks him on the lips. "Well, I can't have that now, can I? Not when I'm in the market for a new partner to join me in Black family competitions."
Another fun fact... Christmas miracles really do exist.
James ends the night with the boyfriend of his dreams, and a hastily put together trophy for winning the dance off against Andromeda/Narcissa & Sirius/Remus (as voted on by the crowd, so it's not biased, no matter what Sirius claims).