A Very Potter Christmas

“Mum! Dad!” James felt absolutely no shame about hurtling over to hug his parents on the train platform, in full view of everyone. So what if he was seventeen now? He’d never be too old for hugs from his folks.

“Jamie!” Mum giggled as he rushed over. She let out an oof as they collided, but she squeezed him tight, savouring the embrace. “I feel like you get taller every time I see you!”

“Stop it! You’ve already outgrown me! No need for anymore!” Dad joined in the hug, squeezing them both and eliciting even more laughter from his wife and son.

There was nothing better than the sound of his parents’ laughter — the bright tinkle of his Mum’s and the deep chortle from his Dad. They never failed to make James grin so wide his cheeks hurt.

Mum dropped a kiss onto his forehead and Dad ruffled his hair as they all pulled back. James stooped to pick up the bags he’d dropped in his rush, and with this action, caught sight of Sirius and Regulus hanging back, unsure.

James decided to correct that immediately.

“Get in here!” He waved them over enthusiastically, before murmuring to his parents, “I think they need big hugs.”

“I think you might be right.” Mum nodded decisively and threw herself at Sirius the moment he got within range.

Sirius’s eyes widened comically, his arms awkwardly trapped, but his shock quickly melted, giving way to bliss. He freed himself enough to hug her back fiercely and they rocked together in a long embrace.

Regulus was slower and more cautious to approach, not looking forward at all to the hugging. James thought he just needed some exposure therapy, considering he was ninety percent sure the boy was as touch-starved as his older brother.

“Come ‘ere my boy!” Dad encouraged, inching closer as though trying not to spook a wild hippogriff.

Reluctantly, Regulus put his bag down and seemed to resign himself, letting Dad close the final distance. He was swept up in a tight, warm embrace, which James was sure felt great. His parents gave magical hugs.

Sure enough, Regulus seemed to incrementally relax, his eyes falling shut and his face pressing further into the man’s shoulder. It was subtle but might as well have been a glaring sign to James — Regulus was savouring the hug.

He smiled at the sight of the two brothers getting lavished with affection. They deserved it.

His parents swapped over, and Sirius had to brush back tears after his second hug, trying to seem all punk and unaffected. Meanwhile, Regulus stared off, swallowing heavily and fighting off his own emotions after an embrace from Mum.

“Let’s head home then, shall we?” Mum prompted once she felt the brothers had collected themselves enough. “You can tell us all about your term over some hot chocolate!”

“I’ve baked some cookies — gooey chocolate ones — James said they’re your favourite, Sirius!” Dad tacked on. “We weren’t sure what you’d like Regulus, but if you let me know, your pick will be next on my list!”

The brothers blinked.

“Oh.” Sirius wiped at his eye again. “Thanks, Monty.”

Regulus blinked rapidly — the shine of his eyes told James it was to keep tears back — and studiously avoided eye contact. “I’m rather partial to lemon bars.”

“Sweet and sour.” James smiled. “Sounds about right for you.”

Sirius gave him a weird look, but James was preoccupied watching Regulus roll his eyes.

“Coming right up!” Dad assured.

A portkey later, their bags had been dropped off in their rooms and they were all huddled around the kitchen table, munching on cookies and sharing stories about the last few months. James and Sirius wildly embellished tales of their pranks, only for Regulus to cut in with the more accurate versions of events. Dad updated them on his latest potion-inventing hijinks while Mum complained good-naturedly about the mess he’d made around the house. And then Mum regaled them with stories about her patients and the crazy things they got up to which led them to her ward at St Mungo’s. It was a wonderful time and the hot chocolates helped them all into the festive spirit.

In the afternoon, James pulled out the Yule decorations from the attic, while Sirius pretended to help and Regulus outright refused. When it came to opening them up and organising them, however, Regulus the Pocket-Sized Dictator made a reappearance, and James’s parents nearly pissed themselves laughing as they watched him bark orders at James and Sirius like a military commander on potions.

Slowly, the decorations were put up, and a festive spirit bloomed throughout the house. This year, Mum had Sirius and Regulus to uhm and ahh with about the placement of every bauble on the Yule tree and every garland on every wall. James and his Dad just exchanged resigned looks as they did what they were told, and moved the same items incremental degrees about a hundred times.

As expected, James did most of the manual labour, while his panel of decorator critics tossed out orders and corrections. But he didn’t care. Not with the broad grins that Sirius couldn’t fight down, or the tiny little smiles of satisfaction that escaped Regulus. He was just happy they were enjoying themselves. (James guessed that this was the first time the brothers had ever even had a say in decorating for Yuletide. So, no matter how annoying or anal their instructions were, James was happy to suffer them.)

“Shall we put the mistletoe up?” Dad asked, grinning at his wife mischievously.

“What’s so special about this one?” Regulus asked with a curious look. They had plenty of other mistletoe decorations up.

His Dad explained that it was an enchanted sprig, meaning that if two people stood directly beneath it, their feet would be stuck in place until they kissed in some form — platonic pecks on the cheek worked just fine (but they could still be plenty awkward).

Sirius’s eyes lit up, but James instantly thought of having to kiss Regulus under the mistletoe. “I’m not sure it’s necessary.”

“You don’t want to smooch me?” Sirius joked, making exaggerated kissy faces at him.

James shoved him away, playing up his disgust. “Absolutely not.”

“I vote no,” Regulus put in cautiously, as though unsure how much his vote counted.

“Perhaps we’ll put it aside then,” Mum decided. “We can always change our minds later.”

James breathed a silent sigh of relief, not catching how Sirius eyed the sprig with interest.

*

“What on earth is this?” Mum asked, frowning judgementally.

James brightened at the sight. “It’s Gus!”

“Gus the… I’m sorry dear, but what exactly is this?”

“It’s my Yule goat,” Regulus cut in. “James made him for me.”

“Oh!” Mum’s expression cleared. She was clearly trying not to be rude. “Points for effort, Jamie. Regulus, do you perhaps want a new one, sweetheart?”

James huffed, just to be dramatic. Despite the effort he’d put in to make the goat, Gus was truthfully rather ugly and misshapen, so he could understand if Regulus wanted a better one.

The young Slytherin pulled an uncomfortable face. “I’ve grown inexplicably fond,” Regulus admitted, seeming reluctant to voice that. “I’d like to keep him, if that’s okay.”

Mum melted instantly. “Oh, of course, honey! Here, I’ll put him in pride of place! I suppose it’s the thought that counts more than the execution.”

“Hey!” James protested, but he wasn’t that offended.

He caught Regulus smiling softly at Gus on the mantle when the boy thought he wasn’t looking.

*

James was hanging another garland up in the hallway with reversible sticking charms when his gaze caught on a spot of the wall. His arms paused, his hands unclenching in surprise, and the latter half of the garland swung down, abandoned.

There, marring the wallpaper, was a scorch mark.

‘I have to go.’

‘I’m not letting you go.’

James stared at the burnt remnant of that night, suddenly taken back for a moment. He remembered the fear pulsing in his heart as he chased Regulus. Remembered the scratches Regulus had gouged into his skin trying to get away. Remembered the spells the boy had shot at him that had missed by a hair, that had seared into the walls instead.

“I wasn’t sure whether to get rid of them or not. The spell-damage marks.” Mum’s voice startled him out of his reverie. She was leaning against the doorway, watching him closely. Her eyebrows were pinched slightly, expression serious. She’d always been as honest with James as was age-appropriate, and James had always appreciated it, so he simply waited for her to elaborate.

“I know they’re a reminder of something that was traumatic for you,” she continued, blunt though her tone was soft. “So, I wasn’t sure whether or not to cover them up.” She paused. “In the end, I decided to leave them. I thought… well I thought Regulus might need the reminder that we’ll fight for him.”

James stared at the scorch mark. Evidence that Regulus had failed to leave. Evidence that James had wrestled him to the ground; and Mum had forced a sleeping draught down his throat; and Dad had waited by his bedside, clutching his sleeping hand until he woke, while Mum tended to his injured brother. Evidence that the three of them had watched him like a hawk all Summer, ensuring he wouldn’t go back to Grimmauld Place, even to the point where it might be considered a little unethical. Evidence that the Potters cared enough to make sure Regulus stuck around.

“I can get rid of them though, if you need.”

James didn’t like looking at the burns. He didn’t like being reminded of that night and he hoped to Hecate that he wouldn’t be pulled back into his memories every time he saw them.

“No,” he said anyway. “Leave them.”

He picked up the fallen part of the garland and went back to pinning it up, praying that his Mum wouldn’t catch the minute shaking of his hands.

She didn’t.

*

“Is this what it’s like every year?” Sirius whispered, awed, as he watched James’s parents slow-dancing in the kitchen. Mum had been cooking up dinner, but Dad always knew exactly how to distract her. He swept into the kitchen and turned up the dial of the radio, draping himself along her back and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. He had her swaying along to the music with him in mere seconds, twirling her across the tiled floor with enamoured smiles on each of their faces.

James smiled faintly. “Pretty much. Why do you think I’ve been trying to convince you to come visit for years?”

“I should’ve left earlier,” Sirius murmured, caught up in the contentment of it all.

Behind his book, Regulus frowned slightly. He’d been the one to leave and drag his brother’s unconscious body with him. Sometimes, James feared he still wanted to go back.

It was James’s mission to make sure he didn’t.

“You’re both here now,” he said, making sure to include the Slytherin.

“Do you have more traditions?” Sirius asked eagerly. “Other than hot chocolates before decorating?”

“We usually read stories together by the firelight tonight. And then tomorrow, we bake gingerbread before my parents go to the Longbottom Ball,” James told him, but he paused. “Well, I suppose Regulus and I will also be attending the ball tomorrow, this time around.”

Sirius seemed delighted. “I love your house.”

Regulus was peeking subtly out from behind his book. “Do you… make the little men? With the gingerbread?”

James smiled wide, endeared. “Yeah, we do. We make a house too, with a gumdrop roof and candy-cane trees.”

Regulus sunk back down behind the book, but if James had to guess, he was smiling. Or fighting a smile. “Intriguing,” was all he said.

“Feel free to join,” James outright invited. The Black brothers seemed to need explicit permission before doing anything fun while adults were around. “I’m sure you have plenty of ideas as to how the gingerbread family should decorate their gingerbread house.”

A pause.

“Gumdrop roofs are tacky. We will use peppermints instead.”

James grinned. “Oh, will we?”

“We will. And powdered sugar for the snow.”

James’s heart was a melty, ooey-gooey puddle in his chest. Since when was Regulus Black all cute and excited about decorating miniature houses made from sweets?

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he told the Slytherin, sure his voice sounded too soft.

Sirius was smiling brightly at him, nudging him with his elbow and practically vibrating with joy at James including and indulging his little brother. James wondered what Sirius would think if he knew James wasn’t making an effort just for his sake. That making Regulus smile was enough of a motivator for James to bend over backwards.

*

“There,” Regulus proclaimed proudly, with an adorable little nod, obviously pleased with himself. The most structurally sound and aesthetically pleasing gingerbread house that James had ever produced sat in front of them while Mum cooed and Dad took pictures, the Black brothers posing behind it while pretending they weren’t posing.

James’s soft smile was likely evident in every photograph. And probably his heart eyes too.

Because James, unexpectedly, inexplicably, irrevocably, had a crush. On Regulus Black.

What a fucking mess.