Christmas at the Potters'
The train slows to a stop at King’s Cross, and James is practically buzzing with excitement. Through the window, he spots his parents on the platform—Effie bundled in a deep green cloak, Monty in a ridiculously oversized scarf his mum probably made for him, their hands intertwined as they sway slightly, as if dancing to a tune only they can hear.
Sirius, right behind him, scans the crowd eagerly. The moment he spots Effie, his whole face brightens, and James can’t help but grin. They’ve barely stepped off the train before Effie rushes forward, arms wide.
“James! Sirius!”
James barely has time to react before he’s wrapped in her embrace, his face pressed against her shoulder, and the familiar scent of lavender and ginger biscuits washes over him. Effie’s arms lock around him, and James just melts into the hug, grinning like a fool.
“Mum,” he mumbles, voice muffled, but he doesn’t pull away. She squeezes tighter, one hand smoothing down his messy hair.
“You’ve grown again!” she says, peering up at him, though her arms remain firmly in place. “Still can’t do anything with this hair, can you?”
James chuckles. “It’s got a life of its own. Can’t tame greatness, Mum.”
“Greatness, he says,” Monty chimes in, stepping up with a fond grin. He ruffles James’s hair even more, and James swats at his hand, half-heartedly. “By next year, you’ll be taller than me. Then what’ll I do?”
“Get taller boots,” James jokes, earning a bark of laughter from his dad.
Effie still hasn’t let go, and it takes James a moment to remember that if he doesn’t pull back, she never will. He finally steps away, and she immediately turns to Sirius, pulling him into a fierce hug.
Sirius doesn’t hesitate—he leans in, clutching at the back of her cloak, his cheek pressed against her shoulder. Effie strokes his hair, murmuring softly, and Sirius’s eyes close for a moment. Monty claps Sirius on the back, chuckling. “Good to see you, lad. Keeping James out of trouble?”
Sirius doesn’t move from the hug, just grins. “Trying. It’s a full-time job.”
Liar.
Effie chuckles. “You poor thing. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure you’re well-fed for your efforts.”
James nudges his dad with his elbow. “Mum’s never gonna let him go.”
Monty leans down, whispering conspiratorially, “She’s the same with me. I once tried to pull away after a hug—she almost put me in a headlock.”
Effie swats at him without letting go of Sirius. “Hush, Flea. I just know how to show my love properly.”
Monty just grins, clearly smitten. “Never doubted it for a second.”
Eventually, Sirius pulls back, looking both flushed and content. Effie cups his face briefly before moving to greet Remus just as warmly. Monty starts gathering their luggage, asking Sirius about his plans for Quidditch practice during the break, and Sirius lights up, eagerly chatting with him.
James can’t help but feel at home already. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar figure stepping off the train a little more cautiously. Regulus.
James’s smile falters. Regulus stands there, looking around like he’s waiting for someone. But no one appears—just Kreacher, the old house-elf, who takes Regulus’s trunk and mutters something about getting home quickly. Regulus nods, his expression carefully blank, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that James can’t ignore.
He clenches his jaw, a surge of frustration bubbling up. Regulus deserves better than that—better than being greeted by an elf while his parents can’t be bothered to show up.
Effie notices his silence and follows his gaze, her expression softening. His mum tried to get Regulus out after Sirius ran away. She doesn’t say anything, but her hand brushes James’s arm, a gentle reminder that he’s here, safe, and loved.
James glances back at Sirius, who’s now animatedly telling Monty about the latest Quidditch match, clearly basking in the warmth of being home. He knows Sirius would feel gutted if he saw Regulus like this—so James keeps quiet, storing away the image of his friend’s brother looking so alone.
With one last glance at Regulus, James takes a deep breath and refocuses on his parents, promising himself he’ll find a way to make Regulus feel that same sense of belonging someday.
---
Christmas at the Potters’ is nothing short of magical. The manor sits at the end of a winding path, snow piled high along the garden walls and icicles glinting from the eaves. Warm light spills from the windows, and the scent of pine and baking fills the air before they even step inside. Sirius and Remus have had a very intense snow fight the whole afternoon and it’s starting to get dark outside.
Effie pushes open the door, ushering the boys inside, and immediately the warmth envelops them. A crackling fire roars in the living room, casting a soft golden glow over the room. Garlands of holly and ivy are strung along the mantle, and red and gold baubles shimmer from every surface. The Christmas tree—tall and slightly crooked—stands proudly in the corner, covered in mismatched ornaments, some clearly handmade from James’s younger years. The star at the top is glowing gently, almost like it’s breathing. Effie got that star for Sirius last year after he ran away from home. It’s very bright for the brightest star in the night sky. Sirius cried when Effie told him that. He was very emotional last Christmas. Not that James blames him. Sirius never really talks about what happened; not to him at least. But James saw him when he stumbled in trough the floo, collapsing right on the spot. He’s had bruises and the healers said that he was under the Cruciatus Curse. James remembers feeling sick. He tries not to think about Regulus who’s liekely in that house right know.
Sirius takes a deep breath, shoulders visibly relaxing as Effie takes his coat, and James catches the way his friend’s eyes soften, looking around like he’s trying to soak it all in.
“Now, you hungry boys?”, Monty asks them looking up from the prophet he’s currently reading.
Sirius grins. “I could eat.”
Effie laughs and pinches his cheek lightly. “Of course you could. Come on then, I’ve got mince pies in the oven, and there’s hot cocoa waiting.”
James helps set the table while Sirius hovers in the kitchen, stealing biscuits when he thinks Effie isn’t looking. She smacks his hand gently every time, but there’s no real scolding—just a playful smile and a reminder that dinner is coming soon.
Monty sets the muggle wireless to play carols, humming along as he throws an arm around Effie’s shoulders. She leans into him, murmuring something that makes him chuckle. James glances back at them, a warmth spreading through his chest. Seeing his parents so happy always makes him feel lighter, like the house itself breathes easier when they’re together.
After dinner—roast chicken, buttery potatoes, roasted vegetables, and Monty’s oddly shaped but delicious Yorkshire puddings—they all gather around the fire. Sirius sprawls on the rug with his feet stretched out toward the flames, and Effie wraps a tartan blanket around him, fussing with his hair until he rolls his eyes but doesn’t actually move away.
James lounges in the armchair next to his dad, who’s telling Sirius a story about his school days. Apparently, Monty once tried to charm a snowball to fly after one of his classmates, only to have it hit his own professor square in the face.
“Got detention for a week,” Monty says, chuckling. “But it was worth it. Never seen old Slughorn move so fast.”
Sirius snorts, nearly spilling his cocoa, and Effie shakes her head. “Terrible influence, the both of you.” But there’s fondness in her voice, and she nudges Monty with her foot.
James can’t help but notice how Sirius leans into every bit of affection. He’s glowing, really, as if he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to be this happy.
As the evening winds down, Sirius and Monty end up playing a heated game of chess, while Effie hums softly, knitting a new scarf. James, meanwhile, gazes out the frosted window, his mind drifting back to Regulus.
He wonders if Regulus read the letter yet. If he opened it right away or saved it for when things got too heavy to carry alone. James hopes it made sense—that the words didn’t feel like pity, just an offer. A lifeline. A distraction.
He can’t help but think of how Regulus looked at the station—alone, even with Kreacher at his side. The memory makes James’s stomach twist. Christmas should feel like this—warm and safe, with laughter echoing off the walls. He hopes, against all odds, that somehow, Regulus has found a little piece of that tonight.
Effie looks over from her knitting and notices his distant expression. “What’s on your mind, love?”
James shakes his head, offering a small smile. “Nothing, Mum. Just... happy to be here.”
Effie pats his knee, smiling knowingly. “Well, you’re right where you belong.” James can’t help but think that Regulus belongs here as well. He would fit right in; cold and closed off as he might be sometimes, it somehow feels like he’s missing here. He should be with his brother.
As Monty triumphantly declares checkmate and Sirius howls in defeat, James lets the firelight and his mum’s soft humming ground him. The night stretches on, full of warmth and laughter, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Regulus lingers—a quiet, persistent thought.
James hopes, more than anything, that Regulus finds something good tonight. Something soft to hold onto.