Regulus had never liked Christmas.
No, that wasn’t fair. Deep down, he had always had a kind of intense love for Christmas. A guilty pleasure if you will, that twisted itself around his veins.
I understand that it sounds silly to describe a love for something like Christmas in a way that makes it sound like some kind of twisted perversion, but you have to understand dear reader, that in a house like Regulus’, this kind of excitement was something that was always stomped upon unless suppressed. So Regulus hated Christmas. It was always easier to hate something than admit you love it.
Despite Regulus’ complex feelings towards Christmas, it was undeniable that he genuinely did dread the Holiday time.
Gone was the empty household he so frequently enjoyed when his father was away at work, and his mother out fraternising with other purebloods. No, it was Holiday time, which meant the whole family was under the same roof at once. No more quiet silence, no more late breakfast alone. Everyone was all at home at once, constantly, and Regulus was struggling to breathe.
Christmas morning had started off the same way they always did. Pure disappointment.
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Regulus sat on the couch, his back stiff. His fingers grazed the wrapping paper of the present on his lap. His name unrecognisable in the black ink sprawled across the tag.
‘Aren’t you going to open it, Darling?’ Walburga’s voice scratched at his throat, he pushed it down, nodding, his fingers unraveled the ribbon, carefully removing the wrapping paper he stared at the book in front of him. Advanced Potion Making.
‘Thank you Mother. May I return to my room to begin it?’ His eyes didn’t stray from the cover.
‘Of Course, Regulus. Enjoy.’
He pushed open the door to his bedroom, dropping the copy next to his three others on his bookshelf, he lowered himself to his bed with a sigh.
As he allowed his eyes to flutter shut, screams filled the house. Fighting, arguing. It was barely 9am. His mind began to wonder to James. Oh James. How he had missed him since break had begun. He knew he was welcome home with Sirius and James but he couldn’t help but feel like an intrusion.
His fingers dipped under his mattress, finding James' letter addressed to him. Labelled to be strictly opened on Christmas day. It had been eating away at him not knowing what was in the envelope, he was finally allowed to indulge.
My love.
Merry Christmas!
We made it.
Thank you for everything this year, I think loving you is one of the best things I’ve ever done.
I miss you dearly. While I understand you had to stay home for Christmas, doesn’t mean I agree with your arguments nevertheless, Sirius and I wish you were here.
It’s not too late to come by. Mum is upset she didn’t get you a present, and Dad says you’re welcome to come at any time.
We even have a Christmas Cracker for you.
Love,
Yours Always.
James.
P.S Your brother is getting annoying, come save me. Yes I know this was written in the past but I know him and I know myself enough to predict the future.
Regulus couldn’t hold in the sobs anymore. Gu-wrenching tears that collapsed in his throat. His fist against his tongue barely contained the pained cries. He pictured Effy Potter, brown hair tied in a bun leaning over a pot, yelling at Sirius and James to come help, not a single word dripped in anything except humour, love and adoration. Fleamont, trying to aid her but being pushed away for his sheer inability to crack an egg. A house full of sound and love.
He missed his family.
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If you asked Regulus Black, he would tell you there's something funny about the magic of Christmas. Whether it’s the way a simple mention of an extra christmas cracker can bring a grown boy to tears, or the way that one moment Regulus Black was crying in his bed, and the next he was drenched in rain but in the arms of the boy he loved. Christmas was magic, and Regulus didn’t want to deny that anymore. He wouldn’t pretend that he didn’t love it with every fibre of his being ever again.