A Very Potter Christmas

Figure it out.

Figure it out.

Figure it out.

Figure it out.

Figure it out.

Figure. It. Out.

… James wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be figuring out.

The problem with not knowing something, was the not knowing. The wide-open nothingness. A blank page. An empty vault. A never-ending, unrelenting, perpetual void. It was grasping at something you couldn’t see. Desperately reaching out and jumping to snatch at something you have no reason to believe even exists.

Figure it out. For the love of all things, figure it out.

Except, there was something. Regulus had said so, and Regulus, James was learning, was always right. Thus, there was something to figure out, and James just had to find out what it was.

He spent every spare moment running his mind through the conversation over and over again. Turning their words round and around in his brain, until they were nothing but a senseless jumble. Regulus had seemed… angry with him? For saying that he had the autonomy to choose what he wanted to do with his life? James didn’t know what was upsetting about that, but the other boy had seemed so genuinely offended. Maybe he craved the structure that he’d had at Grimmauld Place? James would call that ‘abuse’ and ‘unethical restriction’, not ‘structure’, but Regulus liked rules and composure, so maybe all the freedom was overwhelming to him? Maybe this was another moment of weakness, where he wanted to go back?

Horror ran a chilling path down James’s spine at the mere notion of it. Regulus couldn’t go back. He couldn’t. It had been hard enough standing by and watching the brothers go back ‘home’ summer after summer, without being able to do anything about it. But now? After they had escaped? After he knew what Regulus looked like when he wasn’t being beaten down? How bright he shone. James simply couldn’t let the Slytherin devolve and go back there. Couldn’t stand by and watch him unravel, inch by inch like thread gradually unspooling.

He didn’t remember Regulus as much, not from before the brothers had moved in with the Potters, but he remembered Sirius. He remembered the way he looked every September — like a shell of his June self. Every year, James would see his best friend come back with his hair shorn short, his skin turned sallow. Purple bags under his eyes and a myriad of new scars littering his skin. He’d see the way he winced when he moved. The way he flinched at sudden movements. The absence of light in his piercing blue eyes.

And then he’d watch Sirius slowly come back to himself over the school year. Watch the way his smiles turned real by Samhain. His voice got louder by Yuletide. Around Eostre, his hair had grown longer again, under a strict regimen of haircare that James didn’t fully understand but still supported. He’d see his skin glow healthier, the bags under his eyes disappear. Watch him fill out to a less concerning weight, and the way he’d laugh boisterously without going silent and shrinking into himself afterwards. He’d watch his best friend piece himself back together bit by bit over months and months. He’d encourage every part of it, coaxing the Padfoot he knew back to the forefront — holding him when he needed it, speaking the comforting words he thought his friend needed to hear.

And then he’d hug him tightly on the train ride back and bite his tongue so hard it drew blood, forcing himself not to beg Sirius to come home with him instead, all because Sirius had asked him not to ask. And he’d watch the straight-backed Not-Sirius walk back towards his parents, the light dimming from his eyes with every step.

All for him to come back, wrecked, in September. And it would all start over again.

But he’d made so much progress this time. Technically, Sirius had only spent two weeks with his parents during the summer holidays, before he and Regulus escaped to Potter Manor. And this time, it hadn’t just been James, and Remus, and their friends building Sirius back up — it had been Effie and Monty Potter too. James honestly thought that this made a world of difference; having actual, loving, supportive parental figures in his life has helped Sirius thrive. Nowadays, he felt like the person James always knew he could be. Himself, in the truest and most unfiltered form. It was all James had ever wanted for his best friend in the world, for his platonic soulmate, his other half. Sirius’s joy brought James joy, and James’s joy brought Sirius joy. Like an endless feedback loop of positivity.

It was brilliant.

As for Regulus… Admittedly, James hadn’t known him much before. But he would have to have been blind not to notice the way Regulus has bloomed over these past few months. He was still reserved, snippy, mean, judgemental; but not nearly as defensive. Not nearly as closed off. It almost felt like… like he’d brought himself closer to the world. Like before, he was deliberately keeping himself out of reach, not quite part of anything, not letting himself get attached or feel too much. Like he’d stuck his head under water to make sure everything was muffled and distant.

But now, he’d come back to the surface. Now, James could see him breathing in gulps of fresh air for the first time, and watch him fill his lungs not with water that clogged his system and weighed him down, but with the oxygen he really needed. He looked lighter somehow. Nearer. Like James could reach out and touch him, instead of gaze upon him from afar.

And James really didn’t want to go back to gazing at him from afar. He didn’t want the distance between them to grow again, not when James saw him now. He hadn’t seen him before, but now he couldn’t look away. Feelings had sprouted inside of him and taken root in his heart. There was no hope of cutting it out now, and he didn’t think he could take it if he had to watch Regulus deteriorate before his very eyes.

He’d honestly thought they were past this, and he felt stupid for letting himself hope. Regulus had called him naïve for it before, and maybe he was right. (He was Regulus; he was probably right.) But the boy had told James that he understood why the Potters were so against him returning to Grimmauld Place. He’d admitted that things were better here. That he liked it here. James had thought that meant he was happy and that he wasn’t going back. Oh, what a fool he’d been.

But he was determined to change Regulus’s mind. Now wasn’t the time for confessing his feelings, he decided, because that would only put more pressure on the Slytherin boy. Right now, James needed to be a pillar of support, and to make sure Regulus knew how valued he was here at the Potters’. James needed to show him that he could still be his rigid, rule-loving, conniving self here, and that they weren’t trying to change him. If Regulus wanted power and order, he would have it. James would make it happen. The alternative was unthinkable.

*

He spent the next few days enacting this plan. He threw himself back into the shark-infested waters of the Ton, because that’s where Regulus liked it. That was where he thrived.

On the seventh day of Yuletide, they went to a luncheon hosted by House Rowle, before venturing off to the Shacklebolt Ball in the evening. On the eighth day, they went wassailing in the daytime, then the Parkinson Ball by night. On day nine, they attended a gallery showing and auction for charity, hosted by House Bones, followed shortly by the grand Selwyn Ball in the evening. By day ten, James found himself at yet another luncheon, this one hosted by House Rosier, planning to attend the Vances’ fundraising Gala later that night.

Through all of it, James practically clung to Regulus’s side as though someone had hit him with a sticking charm, and he boosted the Slytherin up at every opportunity, vocalising at every opening how incredible and smart and capable Regulus was, trying his best to make the other boy feel valued. He found himself asking about current political issues in the Wizengamot, as well as scandals and alliances amongst the Ton, plotting out plans of attack with Regulus before events, just so he could see the gleam in the boy’s eye as they tag-teamed a target together.

Mum had taken notice of their efforts and praised them for getting her a few more votes on this Veela bill she was trying to pass – one which would provide far more legal protections to the species. Proclaiming that Veela had rights was one thing, but having equal protections encoded into law and enforced practically was another thing entirely. James inwardly despaired at how indifferent people could be when hearing that things like paid maternity leave, free healthcare, and legal ramifications for race-based discrimination in the workplace, were not actually codified in Wizarding law in regard to Veela peoples. It made him want to scream. Instead, he and Regulus schmoozed their way through the season to get his mother’s bill a few more precious votes. Because every vote counted to get that majority in the Wizengamot.

For his part, Regulus seemed… confused by James’s sudden vehemence. Because, yes, of course James believed in his parents’ activism and whole-heartedly supported their cause… he just hadn’t found the confidence to do something about it himself. Not at the tender age of seventeen. He lacked experience, and the silver tongue both of his parents had perfected after years of this. Maybe it was silly that it took a boy for him to bite the bullet and give this whole thing a try, but he found that he was proud of himself, nonetheless. He was making real change! He was doing it! Operation: Activist Heir was a go!

He just wished the message was sinking in with Regulus more — that he didn’t need to go back to Walburga and Orion Black in order to have power, in order to have all the things he wanted. James could give him everything he wanted. He resolved to try even harder.

And he absolutely would. The moment Regulus stopped fucking flirting with Barty Crouch Junior.

He glowered across the room to where Regulus and Crouch had their heads angled close together, smirking and whispering amongst themselves. Crouch even had a hand at Regulus’s elbow without the Slytherin hexing him for it! Why was Crouch allowed to touch him when James wasn’t? He clenched his teeth to stop himself from growling in frustration and maintained a white-knuckled grip around his fluted glass.

Godric, when was the meal starting? Surely it couldn’t be much longer? Regulus was seated next to James in the seating chart, with Crouch Junior further down the table next to the Rosier Heir. James physically could not wait until then.

“Fix your face, darling. We’re not surrounded by allies,” Mum murmured, appearing in front of him in a sudden swirl of green fabric. Her robes were a flowing emerald shade, featuring an elaborate design of intricate beading and embroidery in floral patterns. A nod simultaneously to her Slytherin nature and to her Indian heritage, the former of which mattered more to this peerage than the latter. Though, James had always loved the way she incorporated the traditions of South-East Asian fashion into her English robes. He himself was clad in a simple black ensemble, perfectly cut to suit his body, and timeless in its style. Nothing any judgmental Slytherins could criticise him for.

Because she was right. They weren’t surrounded by allies. The Rosiers were a… traditional Pureblood family. Darker in their magical designation, and often diametrically opposed to the kind of politics the Potters held. It was a wonder they’d even made the guest list at all, though James suspected it was a combination of Regulus’s friendship with the Rosier twins, and the fact of James debuting this season – it would be rude not to invite him, and perhaps he was simply not an enemy they were prepared to make just yet.

“Sorry,” he apologised to his Mum, trying his damn best to do as she’d said and rearrange his expression into something more neutral. He must have failed miserably because the woman’s brows drew in the tiniest, slightest amount, the suggestion of a frown, and she examined his face and body language extensively.

“Hmmm. Lady Rosier was telling me all about her rose bushes earlier, and I’m quite eager to see them. Would you mind ever so much accompanying me for a quick peek before the meal commences?” His Mum asked, in that way of hers that told him it wasn’t a real request. It was an order.

She was telling him to take a lap and get himself under control.

Feeling chastised, James agreed quickly. He took her arm and the two of them ambled out of Rosier Manor to find themselves in the gardens, where rows and rows of perfectly pruned rose bushes were displayed with pride, as far as the eye could see. Each row had a different variant of rose, in a myriad of different colours, each one as meticulously maintained as the last. James could practically feel the magic in the air prickling at his skin, the enchantments keeping the flowers this flawless even as far into the Winter as they were, even with the temperatures so bitingly low.

He wondered inwardly if that was defeating the point. There was pruning and caring for plants to make sure they thrived, and then there was magically altering them to ensure absolute perfection at all times. As he stared at a single, faultless rose, he thought to himself that he would like it just as much if it were lopsided, the petals growing in unevenly. Or if it were deformed in some way, misshapen, discoloured. James wouldn’t care. Beauty doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from uniqueness.

His Mum cast a privacy charm around them, to keep the conversation between them. “So. What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem.”

The look she gave him was severely unimpressed.

James rocked on his heels and averted his gaze. “I’ll fix my face. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t care if we leave this event with a whole hall full of enemies. I care that my son is struggling with something, and that he was making it obvious in front of a bunch of people who would pounce on any hint of blood in the water,” she replied, not unkindly. “I’m not telling you to bottle up your emotions, I’m telling you to be careful who you show them to, and also trying to gently nudge you towards telling me, at least.”

James sighed. She was right. Showing weakness in front of people who would love to take advantage of him was not the smartest plan. “Sometimes, I really hate how right you are all the time.”

“It’s a gift. Now, I ask again: what’s the problem?” With her arm looped through his, she guided him along the pathway at a sedate pace, the sweet scent of the Rosiers’ signature flower cloying in his senses.

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“More than likely,” Mum smirked, a teasing lilt to her tone. “Tell me anyway.”

So, James explained. About Missy’s comment, and his internal horror at Regulus thinking he’d be forced into an arranged marriage with James. About how the conversation had gone between them. “I don’t know why he got so upset, but I’ve been trying to prove to him that we want him around just for him. Not because he could be a potential spouse for me. And that he can have everything he wants with us — he doesn’t need to go back to his parents to have the success he’s aiming for.”

Mum listened patiently to his whole spiel, nodding and making appropriate noises of interest, but when he fell silent, he noticed the mirth in her gaze.

“What?”

The woman chose her words very deliberately, her lips twitching as though she were fighting a smile. “Darling, it’s very sweet that you want Regulus to feel valued, but I don’t think you need to worry.”

James frowned down at her in confusion. “But he was so mad. You didn’t see him — he was furious with me.”

“Because you said you weren’t going to marry him.”

“Well, yeah?”

“And then he calmed down when he saw that you were jealous at the idea that he would marry someone else.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks. “I’m not— I don’t— How did you know?” His voice came out high and whiny.

Her responding laugh was bright and full. “I love you dearly, but subtlety has never been your strong suit, James.”

He stopped walking to cover his face with his hands, utterly mortified. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I don’t get jealous! I’m not the jealous type!”

His Mum only tilted her head with amusement. “Tell that to the deadly glare you were levelling at the Crouch boy back there.” Then she paused, eyes considering. “I had rather thought you liked him — you even danced with him the other day.”

“I do like him,” James admitted. “He’s smart, and handsome, and funny, and he has a trouble streak which I greatly respect.”

At this, Mum raised a brow. “I’m beginning to wonder which one you’re jealous of, Regulus or Crouch Junior.” A thought seemed to occur to her. “Perhaps both? Triads are rare, but there’s nothing wrong with them; if you wanted to court both—”

“That’s not it!” James cut in before she went on a supportive but unnecessary tangent. “It’s just that Crouch is so perfect, how am I supposed to compete with that? I didn’t get twelve Os in my OWLs! I’m not a suave Ravenclaw! Did you know they dated? Or, at least, I think they dated. I’m not clear on the details. But that’s his best friend, and Regulus lets him touch him, and they have so much history, and how am I supposed to measure up?!”

Mum frowned and caught his face in her hands, forcing him to look directly in her eyes so that he could see the sincerity there. “It’s not about measuring up, so don’t compare yourself to others. You’re a brilliant boy, James.”

“You have to say that,” he grumbled. “You’re my Mum.”

“I’m also the first person to call you out when I think it’s necessary,” she pointed out. “I have always tried to be as honest with you as I could, and I’m being honest now when I say that you are perfect, just the way you are. The right person will love you exactly as is. Not because of your titles, or your money,” she poked him in the chest, “but because of what’s in here.”

James avoided her gaze, which was difficult with her hand still on his face. “I don’t think Regulus likes me as is. He actually said he hates me.”

Mum sighed and dropped her hand. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“Those were his exact words. A bit hard to misread that.”

“And yet,” she replied wryly, mostly to herself. Then to James: “Look, honey. If you want my advice, I think you should just tell him how you feel. Not for him, or for any expectation of a relationship, but for you. You’ve never been one to hide your emotions. They’ve always been right here.” She smiled softly at him, tugging playfully at his sleeve. “I think you’ll feel better once it’s out in the open, and at least then you’ll know whether or not you need to move on.”

“But he probably doesn’t feel the same way, and then it’ll be awkward,” James complained. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, just when he was starting to settle in with us.”

Mum gave him a kind look, though her next words were stern. “Don’t treat him like a glass doll. Even though he looks like a light breeze could tip him over, he’s not fragile, James.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “He’s so strong. Stronger than me.”

Mum looped her arm back through his and started up their promenade again. “So, treat him like a person you respect. Be honest with him and take his reaction as it comes. If he needs space, give him space. If he doesn’t feel the same, then it’s time to put up some boundaries. If he does feel the same, that’s a whole different conversation, and we can talk about the correct way to treat a partner.”

“Mum!”

“You’re right. That’s a conversation you should have with your Dad — I expect you’ll both have a similar approach to relationships. And he is very good at treating me like I deserve.”

“I—” James wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I don’t need Dad to tell me how to treat a partner,” he settled on, mildly offended she’d think otherwise.

Mum just shrugged. “Never hurts to get some advice. Us Slytherins are apparently rather ‘high maintenance’. I’m not sure I agree, but your father insists.”

James nearly snorted. ‘High maintenance’ was putting it politely. His Mum could be insanely fussy about things, and honestly… Regulus seemed the same. The boy had strong opinions about almost everything.

…Although, Sirius was just as bad, and he wasn’t a Slytherin. Just raised by them.

Thinking about his best friend drew James harshly back to reality. “Even if Regulus did like me — and that’s a huge, very unlikely if — there’s also the Sirius of it all.”

Mum seemed unconcerned, her gaze flitting over the rose bushes around them. “What about him?”

“Uhm, only the fact that I’m crushing on his precious baby brother?” James answered, though he’d thought that would be extremely obvious.

Again, Mum under-reacted. “I’m still not seeing the issue, dear.”

James looked at her incredulously. “Sirius and Regulus might be brothers, but we both know there’s more to it than that. Sirius practically raised Regulus — that’s his baby, and he is insanely protective over him. You think he’s just going to be okay with his best friend being a creep and lusting after his baby?”

Finally, Mum seemed to mull this over with the weight it warranted, a conflict in her eyes. She was silent as she pondered for several long minutes, so James simply let his gaze run over the immaculate rows of roses.

When Sirius first talked about Regulus, way back in their First Year, James had thought he was a kneazle. Honest to Godric, he had thought Sirius was talking about a pet. Because the way Sirius talked about him — about feeding him, bathing him, trimming his hair, taking care of him. He talked about teaching his ‘Reggie’ cool tricks and cuddling with him at night. He talked about playing with him, and occupying him, and keeping him away from their parents because they didn’t like when Reggie was underfoot. About how all of this was Sirius’s responsibility. About how much he missed him at Hogwarts, and how worried he was about Reggie under his parents’ care.

James had received the shock of his life upon meeting a small scowling boy, with slate-coloured eyes and a distinct lack of fur. Reggie was not, as it turned out, a pet Sirius looked after; he was a fully blown boy that Sirius, only nineteen months older than his brother, had been charged with taking care of. It reframed a lot of what James knew about his friend, and truthfully explained a lot.

But as funny as the surprise-brother bomb had been to James at the time, the reality of it was anything but. A barely older Sirius and their family house elf, Kreacher, had done the majority of the child-rearing with Regulus (at least as far as James knew), because Lord and Lady Black weren’t much concerned with their Spare, so long as he lived to see adulthood.

Things changed as the brothers grew into their teen years, with Walburga and Orion beginning to recognise Regulus as an actual person — probably in large part due to the emergence of his Slytherin nature, in stark juxtaposition to Sirius’s Gryffindorness. And with this change, the Blacks began to pit their sons against each other, in some sort of fucked-up competition which Regulus was winning by a mile, and Sirius was losing terribly.

Still, James didn’t think the brothers had ever fully lost the partial parent-child dynamic to their relationship. Sirius often pushed the boundaries of ‘older brother’ and teetered on the edge of ‘father’ when it came to Regulus — something both of them refused to acknowledge out loud, and vehemently denied when called out. So far, it had caused a number of explosive arguments between the brothers, and even a few stand offs between Sirius and James’s parents. It was something they were all working on, but it was tricky to navigate without trodding on toes. For the most part, James had been on the fringes of it, not particularly affected or involved because he was nobody’s parent and nobody’s blood brother — Sirius was the closest he had, and even that was wildly different to the relationship Sirius had with Regulus.

So, James had reason for concern when it came to his crush on Sirius’s brother. It wasn’t even so much about betraying a friend, because it was far more about James wanting Sirius’s baby. His baby. There was a reason Sirius called him his ‘baby brother’ despite Regulus being nearly an adult. And it was the same reason that James would always be his parents’ little boy, no matter what age he was. That was just the way it was.

Yet James had gone and turned into the equivalent of a dad’s creepy friend, secretly lusting over his friend’s kid.

Was James only fifteen months older than Regulus? Yes. And was Regulus only six months from adulthood? Also yes. But the dynamics were complicated here. There was a lot more to it than mathematics.

“I can see why this might worry you,” Mum said eventually, her words slow as she thought through them. “But I think you need to remember that Sirius is your best friend for a reason. He thinks as highly of you, as you do of him, and I don’t honestly believe that he would hold you caring for Regulus against you.”

A flicker of hope sparked in James’s ribcage. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” Mum doubled down. “Have more faith in both of them. They can be dramatic, that much I won’t deny, but I can’t see either brother being deliberately cruel to you. However they feel about your crush, I think they’ll be considerate of your feelings. And I really do think you should tell them both — perhaps Sirius first, if it’s really concerning you that much.”

James swallowed and scuffed his shoe along the ground. “What if Sirius says I’m not good enough for Regulus?”

“Then send him my way and I’ll have some words with him. I doubt he’d ever be that mean to anyone, let alone you, but I wouldn’t stand for any child under my roof speaking like that to others,” Mum told him simply.

“Okay, what if he doesn’t say it, but I can tell he’s thinking it?” James corrected himself. “What then?”

“Then,” she took his insecure hypothetical seriously, for which he was grateful, “it would be time for you two to sit down and have a long and difficult conversation about the way you view each other. Because if Sirius really thought that way about you, that would be an important thing to address for the sake of your friendship.” She let out a breath. “But I really don’t think that will happen. I think you’re catastrophising,” she finished bluntly.

James slumped. “I can’t help it when my mind goes…” He gestured to his head before performing a spiralling off gesture. His Mum seemed to understand.

Her eyes were soft and empathetic, the same warm brown colour as his own. “Darling, feelings are scary. Putting yourself out there, is scary. Putting yourself in a position to be judged, or disappointed, or hurt, is scary. But in this family, we dare to stand.”

“And stand to dare,” he murmured reflexively. “So basically, you’re telling me to buck up and confess?”

“Essentially, yes.” She smirked slyly. “This should be right in your wheelhouse, my little Gryffindor. Aren’t you lot all about being brave in the face of things that frighten you?”

“Some things are scarier than others,” James mumbled defensively. “Heights? Piece of cake. Spiders? Easy. Love confessions? Absolutely horrifying.”

She laughed at him in a gentle titter. “You didn’t seem to have much trouble going after that Lily girl.”

James shrugged. “The first few times asking her out were terrifying, but I sort of fell into habit with it. I’m not actually sure how much I even liked her towards the end. You know, romantically. I definitely still love her, but in a friend way these days.”

Mum made a noise like that made perfect sense.

“But Regulus is…” He searched for the right words. “Regulus is dangerous,” he said eventually. “I think he could break my heart. Shatter it right to pieces.”

Mum smiled and reached out to stroke the petals of a rose with a feather-light touch, drawing them to a stop. “The beautiful thing about hearts, my dear, is that they don’t break. They aren’t machines. They aren’t made from glass. They can be damaged, of course, and they can cease to function, but they don’t shatter. You can heal when someone hurts your heart, James. It’ll leave you with scars, not broken pieces.”

James gaped as he took in that profound wisdom.

She turned her smile on her son. “Oh, and if you need help getting that Crouch boy out of the way, I’ll direct you towards my poison collection. I’m sure we can come up with something suitable.”

Yeah, Euphemia Potter was the best.