A Very Potter Christmas

True to his word, Dad handled all things courting and marriage offers for James, though he did have to let Marshall down in person himself. The bloke tried to persuade him into changing his mind, but eventually resigned himself to failure. In turn, James tried to convince Marshall to rebel against his parents and refuse to marry a woman, but he wasn’t overly hopeful that the man would take his advice to heart.

By the time Christmas rolled around, James was more than looking forward to a break from the whirlwind that was the social season.

“You sure you still want to go?” He asked Regulus, who was once again attired in formal robes. By contrast, James sported a casual pair of jeans and a thick red jumper. “I’m sure the Lupins wouldn’t mind if you tagged along with me and Sirius instead.”

The Slytherin simply brushed invisible lint off his immaculate robes, fretting at his appearance in the mirror. “No, I’m quite happy attending Lady Zabini’s charity auction instead. I hear there’s a tome on offer that once belonged to Merlin himself. If there is, I want it.”

“Charge it to my name, if you like,” James offered. His parents had padded out Regulus’s and Sirius’s accounts some, but it wasn’t anything compared to James’s endless ancestral wealth.

“I will,” Regulus agreed easily, not even missing a beat. “I was planning on it, actually. You won’t miss the funds.”

James grinned. “No, I won’t.”

Regulus straightened up with one last primping of his raven curls. “Well then, give Lupin my best.”

“Will do. You sure—?”

“Yes, Potter, I’ll be fine without you,” Regulus huffed, just a touch frustrated now. “Do you think I can’t handle myself?”

“Of course not!”

“Then stop fussing. I’ll be with your parents anyway.”

“Okay.”

Regulus sighed and faced him. “Just go and have fun with your friends. You and I can spend one day of this season apart, you know.”

James swallowed and looked away, feeling sheepish. “You’re right, sorry. I’m hovering.”

“You are.”

“I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

“I just…” He just cared. James just cared about him. He worried about him. Simple as that.

He cleared his throat and wrapped his hand around a little box in his pocket. “I got you something. For Christmas.”

Regulus arched a judgemental brow at him. “You bought me a present for a holiday I don’t celebrate?”

“Do you want it or not?”

The boy’s greed and love of material possessions won out. Adorable bastard. “Hand it over,” he ordered snootily, holding out an expectant hand.

And James… James faltered. When he bought the gift, he hadn’t thought at all about how the actual exchange would go, but now it was here, his heart began to flutter nervously. Would Regulus even like it? Would he think it was silly? Would he smile in a way that didn’t reach his eyes, politely pretending gratitude while James silently died inside?

He was tense all over as he retrieved the box, gingerly handing it over. And his palms began to sweat whilst Regulus tentatively opened the box, but eventually his present was revealed.

There, nestled atop a bed of green velvet, was the ring James had purchased. It was silver, with glinting rubies embedded into it, the design shaped to resemble an anatomical heart.

Regulus stared at it with an indecipherable expression for one agonisingly long second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Time stretched on painfully and Regulus continued not to react.

Godric, he hated it, didn’t he? James had truly fucked up this time.

Feeling suddenly hot with embarrassment, James reached for it awkwardly. “Never mind, it was silly anyway.”

But Regulus deftly danced out of his reach, pulling the jewellery box to his chest in a gesture that was almost protective. “It’s not silly. It’s just… unexpected.”

Mortification prickled beneath James’s skin. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. Really, it’s okay—”

“But I do like it,” Regulus declared firmly. He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it onto his middle finger, the action pointed and decisive, almost as though he was daring James to take it back now.

The heat in James’s cheeks was unbearable. “Look, I know it’s kind of random, but I saw it and thought of you.”

Regulus’s head turned slowly to face him, his eyes searching. “You saw a heart ring and thought of me?”

James wanted to melt into a puddle and disappear. “Ye- uh, well, I just—” He shifted on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, tripping over his words as he tried to explain himself. “Y-your name is Regulus,” he stated redundantly.

Regulus blinked. “I’m aware.”

His embarrassment flamed hotter. “What I’m trying to say, is that you’re named for the star. The brightest one at the heart of the Leo constellation.” He finally managed to string a coherent explanation together. “That makes you the lionheart.”

Regulus didn’t react. “I suppose, it does.”

“And it also reminded me of our conversation on the solstice,” James blurted out, unable to stop himself from rambling now that he’d started. “When we were talking about family mottos, and you said you hated the phrase toujours pur, and I suggested that it could mean ‘pure of heart’ instead. I saw the ring, and I thought about that, and I thought about you, because ‘pure of heart’ as a phrase suits you so, so much better. Because you’re good-hearted, and you always strive to do your best, and that’s so pure to me. The way I see it, to try and to care is the purest thing a person can do.”

Regulus continued to stare blankly at him.

“And I know that deep down you still love your family so much, and that you’re still a Black when it comes down to it, and that sometimes you really want to go back because your roots mean so much to you. So, I thought this could maybe be a reminder that you can still honour your heritage while ushering in a new era. You can be a new kind of Black. A Black that leads with your heart, first and foremost. A pure lionheart, because that’s what you are.”

Still nothing from Regulus.

James squeezed his eyes shut. “None of that even makes sense, does it? It was all a huge jumble in my head, but it sounds so much worse out loud. I didn’t mean anything by it really, I just— I thought—” He sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.”

When he hesitantly reopened his eyes, it was to the other boy still staring at him neutrally. But James was finally put out of his misery when Regulus opened his mouth to speak.

“Sirius is always trying to escape his heritage.” The words were slow and measured. “He is ashamed of it, I think. He is always trying to erase any evidence that he was ever a Black.” A small huff. “In fact, I doubt he will keep the name much longer.”

James knew what he was saying. That he didn’t feel the same way. “I know you still love your parents.”

“I do,” he admitted in a quiet but heavy tone. “Perhaps I shouldn’t, but I think I understand them in a way my brother does not.” He paused, weighty. “I never intended to leave. I only ever wanted to get Sirius to safety.”

“I couldn’t let you go back,” James whispered, guilty but not remorseful. He never would have been able to forgive himself if he let Regulus walk out of the house and back into the clutches of his abusers.

The boy swallowed and looked down at the ring. “I understand,” he replied quietly. “I didn’t at first, but I do now.” He changed focus and smiled softly at James. “It’s nice here. Things are better.”

James couldn’t describe in words how relieved that made him feel. It meant that Regulus wasn’t going back. That he finally recognised it wasn’t safe for him there, and that he was better off here. With the Potters. With James. ‘You belong here with me,’ he thought. But all he said aloud was, “I’m glad.”

The smile tipped over into a smirk. “You were right though; I am a Black, and I will always be.”

“You’ll be better than all the rest of them,” James told him, knowing in his gut it was true.

Grey eyes returned to the heart-shaped jewellery once more. “A new kind of Black. Always Pure of Heart. Toujours pur de coeur,” he pronounced in perfectly accented French. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

James’s heart swelled. “Absolutely.”

There were worlds of emotion in the depths of Regulus’s eyes. “Thank you for the gift, James. I love it.”

No words could have made him happier.

*

Remus Lupin was a git.

A snarky, quick-tempered, sneaky bugger of a git, with pretentious tastes in literature and a tendency to berate his friends in a mixture of Welsh gibberish and English so filthy it made James blush sometimes.

James loved said git with all his heart.

He was the very first person James ran into on the Hogwarts Express in their first year. Quite literally — James had bowled straight into the poor boy, too excited trying to find Peter and Marlene that he hadn’t been looking where he was going. They’d collided and tumbled to the ground in a mess of scrawny limbs and floppy hair, Remus swearing a blue streak that had James gaping.

“What?” The boy had bit out gruffly.

“I don’t think I’ve even heard of half those words before,” James had told him, wide-eyed in awe. “You’re so cool.”

But Remus had only rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Get off me, you posh twat.”

James hadn’t gotten off him. “You think I’m posh?”

“I think you’re heavy. Get off.”

James still didn’t move. “I’m James Potter. What’s your name?”

“If you get off me, I’ll tell you.”

“If you tell me, I’ll get off you.”

Remus glared at him, irritated. James stared back with a beaming smile, utterly endeared already, and determined to learn the boy’s name.

Eventually, Remus relented with a huff. “Remus. Remus Lupin.”

“That’s a cool name.”

“No, it’s not. Now, get off.”

James finally pushed to his feet, offering the boy a hand up which was quickly rebuffed. “Are you a first year?”

Remus eyed him warily. “Yeah.”

“Me too!” James lit up. He grabbed the boy’s hand and started tugging him along the train. “Come on, let me introduce you to my friends! They’ve got to be here somewhere!”

“Oi! Let go! I don’t want to meet your friends!”

“You’ll like them.”

“I don’t even like you!”

“You will,” James replied, with all the arrogance of an eleven-year-old prick who’d never been rejected a day in his life. “I grow on people.”

“I’m not looking to make friends!” Remus protested. “I like being alone!”

James stopped in his tracks and stared at the other boy, really taking him in for the first time. His tan skin, his tawny brown hair, his hooded hazel eyes, the scars littering his face. He didn’t stare to be rude, just to see him. And when he looked, he saw fear.

“Well, you can be alone all you want, but I’ve decided we’re friends now anyway,” James declared. “And at the very least, let me introduce you to some other kids in our year before you go off on your own.”

Remus had frowned, caught off guard and cautious. Still, he gave a short, sharp nod, and let himself be guided away.

True to his word, James found Peter and Marlene, who’d been seated in a compartment with Lily and Mary. (Sirius had unfortunately spent the journey in stifling silence, sitting with his older cousin Narcissa. Though luckily, that never happened again.) Introductions had gone all around, and despite his earlier words, Remus rode with them the whole train ride through, quickly bonding with Lily and overtly ignoring James’s presence.

It’d taken the entire year for James to convince the boy they actually were friends. He’d huffed at being sorted into the same house as James and complained endlessly about being forced to dorm with him. He’d jabbed out little insults every time James snagged the seat next to him in class, and rolled his eyes when James chattered to him at mealtimes. But eventually, the jabs got less heated, and the complaints got fonder. By the time they parted for the Summer, Remus even let James hug him goodbye. It’d been the start of a beautiful friendship.

It was quieter than the easy banter James had with Peter and Marlene, stemming back to their shared childhood. Quieter than the vicious sniping back and forth James and Lily had partaken in for many years, before settling down into a stabler camaraderie. Quieter still than the wild kindred spirithood James felt with Mary, who was the life of any party, and the centre of attention in any room she entered. And most definitely quieter than the soul-deep bond James and Sirius shared; they’d connected instantly upon their first meeting, latched onto each other, and since then, they’d never let go. Not that James would want to.

But his friendship with Remus was a gentle thing. In the background. Different to how James usually made friends. He was an excitable person, he knew, and a loud one too. But Remus wasn’t like that, and he brought out a different side to James. A side that included quick little barbed comments whispered into his ear that made him fight to stifle his snickers. A side that saw him reading poetry from one of Moony’s books aloud and stroking his hair soothingly after a particularly difficult moon. A side that included long-suffering looks of commiseration when the hot-headed Sirius and the stubborn grudge-holder Peter got into yet another tiff. A side that included Remus nagging James to do his homework and James not even fighting it, because he knew that’s how Remus showed he cared. A side that had James stocking up on Moony’s favourite chocolates, because the boy would appreciate that far more than being tackled with hugs all the time.

It was a soft friendship. A near silent one. But James cherished it as deeply as any other. Cradled it close to his heart and felt grateful that Remus had allowed him to have it.

So, yes, it was exciting being invited to Christmas at the Lupin House. Yes, he was endlessly curious about Muggle Christmas traditions, and practically vibrating with anticipation. But mostly, he was happy to spend time with his friend, and honoured to be allowed into Remus’s private world. His hometown, his childhood home, his parents, his traditions. That’s the part that brought James the most joy.

*

“Are you sure we can go in?” Sirius asked, with no small amount of reticence, eyeing the building warily. “We won’t burst into flames or something?”

St Ffwyst was a small chapel in Llanfoist, Abergavveny, Remus’s hometown just on the Welsh side of the border. The building was an aged structure in grey rock, with a tall arched entryway and a stained-glass window adorning the facade. The boys stood gingerly out front, surrounded on all sides by a sprawling cemetery that was both pretty, and creeping James out. Because apparently, it was customary for a lot of Christian and Christian-adjacent muggles to visit a Church on Christmas day.

“No, no, of course not, dears,” Mrs Hope Lupin seemed genuinely surprised by their anxiety. She was a staunch Christian, James had been told, though neither her husband nor Remus believed a lick of the religion. Still, to appease her, the Lupins attended church at her whim. 

Mr Lyall Lupin looped his arm familiarly through hers. “Cariad, there’s an admittedly… fraught… history between wix kind and Christians. The worry is understandable,” he turned to the boys, “but unnecessary. I’ve been coming here for years and have yet to be set on fire.”

“Or drowned in a lake?” Sirius pressed further.

“Poked with sharp objects?” Peter chewed nervously on his lower lip.

“Strung up on a crucifix?”

“Hanged by the noose?”

“No, no, no, and no,” Remus replied firmly. “No witch trials around here. At least, not in my lifetime.”

“Or mine,” Mr Lupin agreed.

Mrs Lupin wore a look of marked and motherly concern. “Are you really worried about all that? You poor things — you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”

James’s eyes scanned over the innocent appearance of the building. “I reckon it’ll be fine so long as no-one knows what we are. And I’m still curious about that sermon thing you mentioned. Do you really partake in cannibalism?”

The three Lupins startled.

“What?” Mrs Lupin shrieked. Mr Lupin and his son just gaped in horror.

James wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong. “Remus explained the Communion ritual on the way over. You consume the body and blood of Christ.”

“That was metaphorical,” Remus breathed a sigh of relieved understanding.

“I thought the bread and wine were transfigured?”

“No, it’s just symbolic,” Mr Lupin told him. “Muggles can’t transfigure things.”

James suddenly felt silly. “Right. Sorry. Shall we just go in?”

“Yeah, the service’ll start soon.” Remus nodded his head towards the building, urging them towards it. “If you have questions, wait ‘til after, or ask them very, very quietly. It’s echoey inside.”

So, the three Purebloods cautiously followed the Lupin family into the chapel, tensing up as they crossed the threshold, just in case the Christian God got spiteful and set them all aflame. Luckily, all was well, and they settled into a row of pews towards the back. The small room was crammed with people, shoulder to shoulder along the benches. They murmured and chatted amongst themselves, the sound of it indeed quite echoey. Sirius stared in fascination at some of the strange hats many of the women wore, whilst Peter and Remus tucked their heads together, the former asking the latter whispered questions about the imagery on a few hanging banners.

James himself curiously eyed some men in strange white and black robes at the front. They were plain robes, very different to what James was used to. Still, he hadn’t thought that muggles wore robes at all. At least, that was the impression he got from his muggleborn friends, and from every occasion he visited a muggle-populated area. None of the people in the pews were wearing robes, so he guessed it was for particular people only. How peculiar.

He looked down at his own clothes and wondered if they were appropriate for this event. The blue jeans, cable-knit scarlet jumper, and simple white trainers were rather casual, as far as James could guess. They were certainly comfortable, and it was the sort of outfit he’d come to start wearing in his free time — when he wasn’t in classes or didn’t have any wix events to go to. His parents hadn’t taken any issue with his purchasing and wearing of muggle clothing; in fact, they’d actually been rather fascinated. Dad had even bought a few pairs of jeans himself and taken to wearing them regularly. Plus, Mum was quite fond of muggle cardigans.

But the people in the church seemed to be dressed slightly differently. They weren’t in robes, yes, but they weren’t in jeans either. He spotted mainly slacks and khakis. His jumper seemed appropriate enough, though he was missing the shirt collar that was peeking out at the neck for most of the men. Quite a few were even wearing suit jackets. Perhaps he should have asked Remus what to wear? It seemed that muggle-wear wasn’t always as casual as his previous experience had suggested.

Remus was wearing one of his nicer jumpers, a brown one with an argyle pattern in various shades of tan, no holes poked into the cuffs of the sleeves or chewed into the fabric by moths. A white shirt peeked out at the base of his throat, and he paired it all with a brown pair of trousers and his school shoes, though they looked like they’d been shined up for the occasion. Honestly, it was pretty much how Remus dressed on the regular, minus his favourite pair of heavy black boots that Sirius was obsessed with, and minus his preferred jumpers with their worn-in holes and their cosy soft material. James guessed he’d dressed up a bit but not loads. He wasn’t in a suit and tie or anything, but he’d clearly made an effort. James suddenly felt severely underdressed and berated himself in his head for not inquiring about the dress code ahead of time.

Still, Mr and Mrs Lupin hadn’t seemed fussed about his clothing at all. He hoped it wasn’t too much of an issue.

The service started then, with one of the robed men facing and greeting the assembled muggles, and James soon found himself utterly entranced by everything that followed. There were songs that everyone seemed to know the tune of by heart, though they read the words from small books. James and Sirius exchanged bewildered looks whilst Peter harriedly tried to sing along and failed spectacularly at grasping the melody. Remus was clearly trying his best not to laugh as he sung quietly along.

There was also a reading from the Bible — the Christian scripture book — written by some bloke called Luke, who told the story of the pregnant lady (Mary) and her husband (Joseph) and their whole ordeal, before describing the happenings around the birth of Jesus Christ. James didn’t fully understand everything in the story, like why Joseph wasn’t mad about Mary cheating on him with the Lord, or why it was such a big deal that shepherds were allowed into a barn to witness a birth. Nonetheless, he followed along and did his best to maintain a look of respectful interest on his face — all his practice at keeping his expression under control during the Yuletide balls was coming in handy.

There was also a lot of lecturing. Some of it was inspirational talk about what each and every one of them could do for the world, which left James feeling pumped and ready to go volunteer at a homeless shelter or something. Some parts focused on being grateful for what you had, which had James contemplating once again how lucky he was, and how much he loved his friends and family.

Other parts, admittedly, dragged. He tried to focus and keep up the self-reflection, because he could definitely see the benefit in it, but at some points, he was secretly bored out of his mind. Sirius noticed him struggling not to fidget, and pulled the hair tie out of his long hair, wordlessly passing it over. James had yet another thing to be grateful for as he smiled thankfully and began to play with it in his lap. The service continued on.

The whole Communion thing reminded James of some of his family rituals to the gods. All the church goers lined up and took turns kneeling, eating a tiny little wafer, sipping wine from the same communal goblet, and being blessed by murmured words from the robed figures. As this went on, Remus told them to sit tight and not participate, whispering something about not being baptised, but James didn’t mind too much. Sirius looked glad he didn’t have to drink from the shared cup, while Peter’s stomach growled as he stared mournfully after the wafers. Truthfully, James was hungry too — he had yet to eat today as Remus had promised a feast later, but this whole church thing was going on longer than James had expected. His bum was starting to get sore from the cold wooden pew.

Eventually, the service seemed to finish, and people began to rise from their seats, chatting together about the sermon or their plans for later. Mrs Lupin went over to chat with one of the robed men for a few minutes, but soon enough they were being ushered out of the church. They debriefed together as they embarked on the walk back to the Lupin house, and James handed the hair tie back to his friend.

“It was a lot more intense than I was expecting,” Sirius commented idly, gathering up his hair into a loose bun. “And there was a lot of talk about sin.”

James hummed in agreement. “I started thinking about every thing I’ve ever done wrong in my life, and I didn’t really like that. I very nearly started spiralling.”

“Same,” Sirius agreed instantly. He wrinkled his nose. “It almost sounded like my Mother’s tirades at times. I half expected her to apparate in and start yelling at me.”

Remus had his gaze carefully downcast, the soles of his shoes scuffing along the tarmac surface of the road. “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan either. If Father Brian knew I’m a queer werewolf wizard, he probably would start yelling at me. I’d be kicked right out. Maybe given an exorcism.”

Peter looked horrified. “That was a possibility?”

Remus shrugged. “I wouldn’t care that much. The problem is more that my Mam would be kicked out too, and I don’t want that for her.”

James watched Mr and Mrs Lupin’s backs as they walked up ahead. They were arm in arm, Mrs Lupin happily chittering away whilst her husband listened attentively. She seemed like such a kind woman and such a doting mother. It was strange to James that she was so devoted to a faith and a community that would shun her son if they really knew who he was.

“Moons,” Peter asked, his voice timid. “Why do you go at all?”

“Because I love my Mam,” Remus replied simply. “And she loves God.”

“A god who hates you,” Sirius pointed out quietly.

At this, Remus’s expression twisted, and he shifted to look up at the white sky. “Depends on who you ask, I suppose. Mam would say God loves me, just as I am. Father Brian would say I’m headed straight to hell. Some people think of God as a benevolent God, all-loving, all-accepting. ‘Love thy neighbour’ above all else. Others would start citing mistranslated scripture at me and going off about how much of a monster I am. Depends on the person. Depends on their view of God.”

That changed things. Even if Mrs Lupin knew that the ‘Father Brian’ guy would be hateful towards her son if he knew him properly, she didn’t think her God would be. She wasn’t taking him somewhere she thought of as unsafe, she was taking him somewhere she viewed as a house of love. In that sense, James wasn’t nearly as upset with her. This whole Christianity thing was complicated.

“Are we going to eat soon?” James wondered, changing the topic to something lighter.

Remus looked incredibly relieved. “Not quite yet. We can snack a bit when we get in, but my Mam’s not quite finished with the cooking yet. The turkey’s still in the oven, and I think she’s planning a few other vegetable dishes which might need some time in there.”