Getting ready
The days passed, and their parents still hadn’t returned.
Sirius knew he should be worried. Their absence was unusual, even for them. But mostly, he just felt relieved. The days stretched on. Morning blurred into afternoon, then evening. With each passing day, Sirius fell into a routine.
He made sure everyone ate, real food, not whatever pathetic scraps Kreacher usually prepared under their mother’s orders. He made breakfast, lunch, and dinner, teaching Irene how to chop vegetables without cutting her fingers and letting Astraelle stir soup even though she got more on the counter than in the pot.
"Tu cuisines bien," (You cook well,) Regulus admitted one night as they ate in the sitting room, wrapped in blankets because the house was too cold. "Quelqu'un doit le faire," (Someone has to,) Sirius said with a shrug, but he couldn't hide the small smile. After dinner, he tucked the girls into bed. Astraelle, as usual, demanded a story. "Raconte-moi une histoire de chevaliers!" (Tell me a story about knights!) she insisted, wiggling under the covers.
"Encore? Tu ne t'en lasses jamais?" (Again? Don’t you ever get tired of them?) Sirius teased, sitting on the edge of her bed.
She shook her head vigorously, curls bouncing.
"Très bien... Il était une fois, un grand chevalier nommé Sirius..." (Alright… Once upon a time, there was a great knight named Sirius…)
Irene, already half-asleep in her own bed, mumbled, "T'es tellement narcissique." (You’re so narcissistic.)
"Chut et dors." (Shut up and sleep.) Sirius grinned.
Once Astraelle's breathing slowed, Sirius carefully tucked the blankets around her and kissed the top of her head before slipping out of the room.
Regulus was waiting in the hall.
"Tu te fatigues pas?" (Aren’t you getting tired?) he asked quietly.
Sirius stretched, rolling his shoulders. "Un peu." (A little.)
Regulus hesitated. Then, in a rare moment of sincerity, he said, "Merci." (Thank you.)
Sirius blinked.
They didn’t do this, say things out loud, acknowledge the weight of what Sirius did for them. But Regulus was standing there, looking him in the eye, and Sirius knew he meant it.
The next few days passed much the same. They played chess in the afternoons. Sirius taught Irene some of the hexes he had learned at school (just the harmless ones, but she still nearly took his eye out). Astraelle made him sit for “portraits” that were mostly just messy scribbles.
One night, they sat by the fireplace, all of them piled together under blankets, sharing a plate of biscuits Sirius had found hidden in the pantry.
"On pourrait vivre comme ça pour toujours," (We could live like this forever,) Irene said suddenly, dipping a biscuit in her tea.
Sirius looked at her.
"Ouais," (Yeah,) he said after a moment. "Ça serait bien." (That would be nice.)
The Black family did not do Christmas.There were no twinkling fairy lights, no gifts wrapped in shimmering paper. The grand house was as cold as ever, filled with dark wood and darker shadows. But Sirius tried. He always tried.
He had spent the day entertaining the girls, making a game of sneaking ginger biscuits from the kitchen when Kreacher wasn’t looking, and even charmed a few candles to glow different colors to make up for the lack of festive decorations.
Irene, all of seven five old, had clapped her hands with delight. "Look, Astra! Red and gold! Like in the books!"
Sirius had smirked. "Yes, just like in the books." He didn’t tell them it was Gryffindor colors.
Regulus, sitting stiffly on the sofa, had watched with a small, hesitant smile, before looking away. Even at ten, he knew better than to enjoy himself too much.
The illusion of warmth shattered the moment the front door creaked open.
Their parents had returned.
His mother’s gaze swept over them like she was taking inventory. "Vous êtes tous non préparés"
(You are all unprepared.)
His father’s voice followed, low and sharp. "We are hosting a Christmas Eve dinner tonight. Important guests. You will all be dressed appropriately."
Sirius’s stomach twisted. "Tonight? You never—"
His mother’s glare silenced him. "I expect you to behave, Sirius," she said coolly. "It is time you start acting like the heir to the House of Black. I will not have you shaming us." His jaw clenched. He wanted to argue. But he knew better.
"Get your sisters ready," his mother instructed, already turning away. "I will not repeat myself."
And just like that, they were gone, disappearing into the depths of the house. Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "Right," he muttered. "Come on, then."
Irene and Astraelle followed him without complaint, their small hands curling into his robes. Regulus lingered behind for a moment before trailing after them.
Upstairs, in Irene and Astraelle’s shared room, Sirius rummaged through their wardrobe, pulling out dress after dress. Most of them were stiff and impractical, made for looking proper rather than feeling comfortable.
"Do I have to wear that?" Astraelle wrinkled her nose as Sirius held up a deep green gown.
"Unfortunately, yes," Sirius said dryly, kneeling to help her with the buttons.
Irene twirled in her own silver dress, sighing. "At least it’s pretty," she said, though her voice lacked enthusiasm.
Sirius smirked. "You look terrifying. Very intimidating."
Irene giggled, but Astraelle pouted. "I wanted to wear my blue one."
He ruffled her hair. "You can wear it tomorrow when we burn this one in the fireplace."
That got a giggle out of her.
He put sparkly pins in thier hair and made sure thier mother wouldn’t criticise anything. Sirius and Regulus changed into their formal robes. Regulus, already dressed, stood by the door, fidgeting with his cuffs.
"You don’t have to look so miserable," Regulus muttered.
Sirius glanced at him, arching a brow. "Don’t I?"
Regulus hesitated. "It’s just one night."
Sirius let out a quiet scoff. "Yeah. Just one night." Just one more night of pretending. One more night of playing the perfect son.
He looked at Irene and Astraelle, their small hands smoothing the folds of their dresses. He swallowed back the bitter words rising in his throat.
For them, he would endure it.
Just for one night.