Regulus Black despised Christmas.
Perhaps, if he hadn’t grown up in the oppressive walls of Grimmauld Place, he might have enjoyed it, but there was something to be said about the way his childhood shaped the ideals he now held today. In the place he’d once called home, every Christmas would be filled with harsh words and violent curses, devoid of the love and festivities that were so often associated with the season.
Just once, Regulus would have loved to experience the warmth he read about in the stories… the all encompassing kind that made one feel as if they were a feather-light snowflake, dancing upon a winter breeze as the stars glistened above them. He would have rushed down the stairs at the earliest hours of the morning, hand clasped tightly with his brother’s as they rifled through the stacks of presents to find the ones meant for them. Then, they would have enjoyed the pastries and warm hot cocoa their parents had prepared in lieu of such an occasion, watching as the snow painted the ornate windows while they waited for mother and father to join them.
But such things were merely a fantasy. And though Regulus was well acquainted with magic and whimsy, he was not foolish enough to believe himself capable of experiencing it. Happy endings and festive holiday cheer was for the characters in his novels, not him.
That was why– on a Christmas eve painted with blistering cold– he found himself locked in his bedroom, his fingers tapping violently against the keyboard as he wrote, words spilling from the confines of his mind onto the document in front of him.
The blissful outpouring of creativity, however, could only last for an allotted time. He cursed as the words slowed, his brain suddenly becoming an aching chasm, empty of the inspiration he so desperately needed. The scene he was in the middle of was the most important one– when the two broken characters found one another beneath a gentle snow, realizing the feelings they’d long kept hidden inside. It was to be romantic and tinged with magic, but all Regulus felt was bitterness.
It wasn’t fair that the characters he cherished so deeply could find love, while he sat wasting away in the empty bedroom, nothing to keep him company but a distressed laptop and the now cold cup of coffee seated on his desk. It wasn’t fair that they had loving families and warm homes, while all he had were the scars on his back and his mother’s vicious words imprinted deep within his mind.
Regulus slammed his laptop shut, trying to forget about the deadline he’d been given last week. His first draft was to be finished by the end of the year, ready to hand off to Mister Crouch– his best friend’s father and his too strict publisher. If he allowed himself to be stuck on this scene, he’d risk being let go by the company. And while he wasn’t too fond of his publishers, this job was all he had. He wasn’t ready to give it up, but he still needed a break.
As he headed towards the quiet kitchen, wincing when he realized his brother had left the windows open, he found himself wishing desperately for January to come again… and soon.
–
“Effie and Monty invited us for Christmas!”
“No.”
Sirius’ brow furrowed, his arms folded against his chest, though it did nothing to hide the obnoxious array of snowmen and elves embroidered on his jumper. “What do you mean, no?”
Regulus rolled his eyes. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that Sirius was 25, not 10. “I mean I won’t be coming. My book is due in a week, and I can’t afford to waste any more time than I already have.”
Sirius stuck out his bottom lip in a customary pout. “But Reggie… It's Christmas! You have to come!”
“I don’t have to do anything, Sirius,” he sighed, perhaps a bit dramatic. But if one wanted to get through to Sirius Black, theatrics were often necessary. “Do you not care about my job?”
Sirius’ eyes narrowed, as if accepting the challenge. “Do you not care for me?”
“I already promised you we’d spend New Years Eve together. Is that enough for you?”
Sirius quieted, and for one blissful moment, Regulus wondered if he would finally back down. Surely, he must have known he’d lost. Though Regulus was admittedly fond of the Potters, there was nothing Sirius could have offered that would make him want to spend Christmas in their festive estate.
“James will be there.”
… except that. Regulus considered himself to be tenacious and incredibly stubborn. Arguments between him and Sirius sometimes took days, neither one of them willing to relinquish their desire for victory. But James Potter, with his sunshine smile and even brighter personality, had always been irresistible. And well, when it came to matters of the heart, Regulus was a very, very weak man.
He exhaled sharply, watching as his breath froze in the air of their frigid flat. “Fine.”
Sirius’ face lit into a victorious smile, and he lunged forward to pull Regulus into a bone-crushing hug. And despite his petulant anger that his older brother had won, he leaned into the comfort, relishing in the warmth it brang. “You’re the best, Reggie.”
After a bit, Regulus pushed himself free of Sirius’ hold, nose wrinkling at the strong scent of cedarwood that now infiltrated his person. He rather liked the usual day-old coffee he smelt of, but just as everything on this merry Christmas Eve, that had been ruined as well.
Regulus sauntered to the refrigerator, grabbing a leftover piece of the cardboard-box pizza he’d cooked last night, gnawing off nearly a third of it in one bite. Leaning against their chaos-infused counter, he turned his piercing gaze back to his brother. “I’m bringing my laptop,” he stated, stuffing his free hand into the pocket of his trousers. “If inspiration strikes, don’t expect to see me for the rest of the night.”
And yet, Sirius didn’t look the slightest bit peeved. Decked from head to toe in festive cheer, he smiled impishly at Regulus, as if he knew something the younger didn’t. Already, Regulus was beginning to regret his consent to the holiday celebrations.
This, he surmised, was leading up to be a very unmerry Christmas.
–
The second Regulus stepped through the garland covered doorway of the Potter Manor, he was engulfed in a hug. Unlike Sirius’ passion-infused embraces– which Regulus still secretly enjoyed– there was something almost magical about this one. The arms encasing him were soft and gentle, one hand pressing his face into the cashmere sweater of whoever it was that held him. To his utter surprise, a tender kiss was placed atop his curls.
“It’s wonderful to see you here, darling,” Euphemia Potter whispered, her words of greeting meant solely for him. “I made your brother promise not to pressure you into coming here, but I am honored that you decided to join us.”
Regulus couldn’t help the small smile that graced his features as he pulled away, now face-to-face with the kindly woman. This was how a mother was supposed to be– tender and loving and full of the sort of warmth it would be impossible to find elsewhere. A small part of him was jealous of James then. He would have given over his soul to have a mother like Euphemia growing up.
“Thank you, Ma’am,” he finally replied, shame coating his cheeks. Suddenly, he felt a bit bad for how he’d refused the celebration earlier. “It’s a pleasure to be here. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring anything.”
“You brought yourself,” said Euphemia, her accompanying laugh reminding Regulus of the soft tinkling of jingle bells. “Come now, dear. Everyone else is in the kitchen. You know, my James was rather delighted to hear that you’d be coming.”
Regulus fought valiantly to disguise the crimson that rushed to his cheeks, grateful for the oppressive warmth of his ebony sweater. At least he could blame it on the heat. Struggling to maintain his previous composure, he followed Effie through the winding halls of the manor and into the kitchen.
Immediately, he was assaulted with a cacophony of smells and sounds and holiday cheer, three things he would have normally detested. And yet, magic must have found its way into the Potter household, for Regulus could already sense his trepidation towards the holidays melting away, like a snowman that had attempted to warm himself by a flickering fireplace.
Garlands of pine needles and dried oranges hung from every surface in the kitchen, whether it be the pearly white cabinets of the very top of the magnet-coverered refrigerator. Fairylights accompanied the garlands, sending miniature stars dancing about the festive room.
Delicacies of all shapes and sizes lined the counter, some of them finished and some still struggling through the beginning stages of their creation. The most overwhelming of the smells belonged to the ham, freshly cooked and now-being sliced by Lily Evans and her girlfriend of 3 months, Mary Macdonald. The two of them, however, seemed far more invested in their stolen kisses than the meal preparations they’d been tasked with, though mistletoe was nowhere to be found.
On the opposite side of the room, away from the ham and potatoes and mouth watering charcuterie board that tempted Regulus with its very existence, lay a delicate selection of desserts. There were cherry tarts, apple pies, and so many varieties of cookies that he wasn’t sure he’d know where to begin. In the farthest corner, perhaps hidden from Sirius’ prying eyes, was a collection of Effie’s famous delicacies– Sandesh and Kalakand and her famous Faloodas that Regulus ached to try.
But of course, what drew his gaze most potently towards the desserts was the sight of James, deep in concentration as he mixed together a rather chunky looking batter. Somehow, despite the dusting of flour in his hair and smeared batter near his lips, Regulus still found him ridiculously attractive.
Though he often attempted to deny his affections for the boy, Regulus had been obsessed with James for nearly 10 years. At first, his obsession stemmed from jealousy, watching on the sidelines as the Potter boy stole away Sirius’ affections, swiftly transforming into his brother’s best friend. But once Regulus understood the truth– that James was not his replacement– that jealousy soon turned to something much more dangerous… something that caused cheeks to heat and butterflies to waltz within his stomach as if performing the nutcracker ballet over and over again.
However, unlike so many that were ensnared by the bewitching allure of love, Regulus was well aware of it’s impossibility. Though he may have become smitten with James, that did not mean the older boy liked him back. In fact, Regulus had long ago resigned himself to the fact that such a romance would be impossible: only existing in the confines of his mind and the words shelved beneath his name.
If every romance novel he produced was a fictitious interpretation of the life he wanted, no one would have to know. It was none of the world’s business if he wished for midnight kisses and slow dances beneath waning moonlight with a boy he could not have. Every great author had their secrets, after all.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that really little Reggie Black?” James’ voice snatched Regulus from his thoughts, crimson appearing like freckles upon his skin. It was unfair that, even while taunting him, James had the gall to look beautiful.
“My name is Regulus,” he huffed, though he didn’t resist when James beckoned him forward, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the dilapidated batter swimming within the bowl. “What did you do to this poor recipe?”
James bit down on his lip, tilting his head to the side in a sheepish manner. “I think I might have added a bit too much flour.”
Regulus arched his brow. “Really? I couldn’t have guessed.”
James sighed dramatically. “Still have that attitude, I see.”
“Were you hoping it might have gone away?”
“It’s Christmas,” said James, in the same pouty tone so often used by Sirius. “I would have expected you to at least try and be festive.”
Regulus tried to ignore the hurt that barrelled through him at the comment. James was only having a bit of fun, he reminded himself. He didn’t know the painful memories that came with the dreaded holiday… didn’t understand the way they burrowed themselves into Regulus’ chest, clenching so tightly to his insides that he could feel nothing but the emptiness that overwhelmed him now.
“I hate Christmas, James.” His voice was dangerous, a quiet warning.
James softened a little, changing the subject to a topic he would have considered more amiable. “How’s your writing coming along? I would have thought you’d forsake our celebration for the sake of your words.”
“I wanted to, but words have been difficult as of late.” He looked back at the stagnant lumps of batter meant to be a cake. “I’m afraid this time of year seems to sap me of all creativity.”
James’ frown deepened, something sad behind his eyes. “Is it because of the holidays?”
Despite himself, he nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart tumbled in his chest, invisible hands clenching tighter around his lungs. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. His gaze, always errant while nervous, darted to and fro, landing for a moment on the sight of his brother.
Sirius was currently curled in a chair with Remus, his boyfriend of nearly 7 years now. A bright smile danced upon his face, illuminating the room far better than any of the fairy lights could. It was the sort of joy Regulus could never understand… especially not this time of year. To the younger boy, it felt as if Sirius had learned how to forget the horrors of their past, flying high above them without a care in the world. And then there was Regulus… so far below his brother, struggling to stay afloat as the traitorous waves of his past threatened to pull him under.
“Regulus.” The tender call of his name pulled him back to shore, his eyes meeting James’ gaze, now riddled with a deep sorrow. “I’m sorry for what I said before. My pa, he… he still struggles with the holiday’s sometimes. He would have wanted me to be considerate. His parents were never cruel like yours, but they didn’t like him all too much. I should have noticed the signs with you. I guess… I just saw your brother and assumed you–”
“Assumed that I was happy, like him?” Regulus smiled sadly, effectively cutting off James’ rambling. A guilty look spilled upon the other boy’s face. “I don’t know why I’m not. Sometimes, I think there’s something wrong with me… something so irrevocably broken that no one could ever succeed in fixing it.” he glanced towards his brother once more, despising the emotion that lingered behind his eyes. “How can it be so easy for him when it feels impossible to me?”
Silence lingered between them then, the cacophony of overplayed christmas songs fading into background noise. The snow, which had been a mere drizzle upon Regulus’ arrival, now hammered against the windowsills, as if begging to be allowed in for the impending celebration. Regulus would have gladly exchanged places with them, if only they’d work up the courage to ask.
After a few more moments of uninterrupted bliss, James spoke, his voice just as gentle as the soft winter air that Regulus had come to love. “You and Sirius couldn’t be more different.”
Regulus spared his brother another glance. “Clearly.”
“Right,” said James with a quick bob of his head. “So theoretically, your grief should be processed differently too.”
It was a simple set of words, not much to chew on or digest. But James wasn’t a writer. Regulus hadn’t expected a monologue from him… hadn’t wanted one either. He had needed something simple and concise, something that was easy to dig into, something that didn’t require the endless pondering he often expected of his readers. These words, spoken in the gentle cadence of James’ warm tone, gave him exactly what he needed. A bit of grief fell from his heart, dissipating into the air like a snowflake that hadn’t gotten the chance to reach the ground. He felt a bit lighter… a little bit more alive, and he couldn’t resist the grateful smile that stretched upon his features, a rosy color decorating his freckled cheeks.
“That was… surprisingly helpful,” said Regulus. “Thank you, James.”
“I’m simply glad to be of service,” James grinned, snaking a warm hand around Regulus’ waist. The touch burned, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. And because he was weak for the boy beside him, Regulus leaned in, snatching the mixing spoon from James’ remaining free hand.
“Let me fix this,” he demanded. “Your mother would be ashamed of this disaster you’ve concocted.”
“So demanding,” James remarked, flicking Regulus’ forehead impishly.
Regulus scowled as he slapped his hand away, sending his glasses askew in the process. “I would much appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself, thank you.”
Instantly, the warm grip on his waist was gone. Something far more humiliating than a whine passed his lips, and he bristled as the taller boy chuckled. “Put it back,” Regulus stated, not bothering to care how foolish he might have sounded.
“I thought you wanted them gone,” said James, looking far too pleased with himself.
Sick of his teasing, Regulus took matters into his own hands. Grasping the arm James had just relinquished, he refastened it upon his waist, nearly smiling at the warmth. He didn’t need to look to know that James was gazing at him, probably with the sort of fondness he’d always reserved for the younger Black brother. If he was one of the characters in his many stories, he would have looked back. But he was just Regulus– a struggling writer with no idea how to navigate what might have been a blossoming romance… especially not one he’d wanted desperately for as long as he could remember.
Regulus averted his gaze to his brother, now half asleep on his boyfriend’s lap as the Christmas tree watched over them with the glow of its multicolored lights. He refused to allow James to see the crimson that now perpetually stained his freckled cheeks, making him appear more like Rudolph with every second.
And with that, both boys lapsed into a comfortable silence, content to simply bask in the presence of one another. Christmas music lulled in the background, and though he hated the monotonous way the songs seemed to blend together, he wondered what it might have been like to enjoy them– the same way his beloved characters would have. If James had cared for him as more than his best friend’s little brother, would they have had the same sort of story he’d concocted so many different times? Would tonight have been different, filled with slow kitchen waltzes and the sort of hand-holding one only experienced on a late winter night? Or was he simply lost in his imagination once more, blurring the lines between his stories and his current reality?
As James tugged him closer, laughing at a wry joke he’d whispered under his breath, Regulus decided he didn’t want to find out.
–
After the entirety of the house had stuffed their faces full of new delicacies and old, nostalgic favorites, Fleamont Potter announced to the group that it had come time for Presents– perhaps the part of their celebration that Regulus dreaded most.
Of course, he wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of gifts, for Sirius often showered them upon him during the customary times of year… but it was a humiliating endeavor to be given a gift without having anything to give in return. Regulus hadn’t expected himself to be here, which meant he had had little time to plan. The only gift he’d bought was for Sirius, and that was left upon his brother’s satin bed sheets back home– far too personal an item for Sirius to open in front of such a crowd.
Here, Regulus had come empty-handed… and he rather hoped he had the luxury of leaving that way too.
But he should have known that could never be so. Not only were the Potter’s over-indulgent in the matter of presents– gifting Regulus a few sweaters, new writing supplies, and a handwritten card that nearly brought him to tears – but it seemed that every other guest had bought Regulus something as well.
From Lily and Mary, he’d gotten a gift card to his favorite bookstore, and a pack of gluten free snacks that he knew would be gone in a day. Remus, ever generous with his time and talents, had crocheted him a pair of pine-green socks that perfectly matched the sweater he was currently wearing. Notebooks and candles and other quaint gifts were thrown at him from the many others, each one sending a new wave of warmth cascading over him. He was beginning to think that it was Walburga and Orion Black that had got Christmas so terribly wrong, not him.
Just as Regulus had done for him, Sirius declared that his brother’s gift was back home, waiting to be opened bright and early on Christmas morning… That is, If they ever made it home from the Potters. Though a few hours had passed since their arrival, the snow had not let up, continuing its barrage against the windows in a flurry of pearly white. Darkness had begun to paint the evening sky, preparing the way for the constellations that would soon take flight. Regulus found himself aching for even a mere glimpse of the stars: if there was one thing that could always bring him comfort, it was the sight of his sister in the sky.
“This one’s for you, Reg.”
Regulus looked up from his new notebook to see James kneeling there, pressing a neatly wrapped present into his waiting hands. His eyes widened, a pleasant spark of something warm settling in his stomach when James’ hand lingered, resting atop of Regulus’ a little longer than it should have. Regulus couldn’t help but wonder… was this strange affection a by-product of holiday enchantments, or had it always been there? Before today, he couldn’t recall a time when James had received his full, unbridled attention.
Being a writer was more than just a hobby… It was a lifelong affliction. Once one began the endeavor of a personal story, their characters and plots and ideas lived in the confines of their mind, running in so many parallel directions that it became nearly impossible to keep track of them all. While Regulus enjoyed the arduous process, it caused him to become frequently distracted, his mind barely ever residing in the present moment, lost in the throws of worlds far from his own.
Now, however, he was present here, and it felt as if he were seeing James for the first time– noticing all the intricacies that he hadn’t before, each one of them making him fall just a little harder. Most prominently he noticed the way James looked at him– as if he was some sort of sculpted god, carrying the entirety of the world upon his fragile shoulders… beautiful, broken, and ethereal all at once. Regulus felt as if he might buckle with the weight of such a realization.
No one had ever looked at him like that before. He wasn’t sure what it meant.
Yet, he knew what he wanted it to mean. He wanted…
“Are you going to take the present, or not?”
Regulus’ cheeks flushed as he snatched the gift almost frantically from James’, hands trembling as he quickly peeled back the paper. He felt like the nutcracker beneath Clara’s gaze, desperate for James to never look away. How had he gone from resenting love to seeking it? Despite his initial reservations, he was beginning to believe that Christmas magic was more than just a fairytale catchphrase, capable of warming even the most broken hearts.
Or perhaps it was simply James, his expectant smile filled with the sort of charm befitting of a dashing prince who’d been kissed by the sun.
A soft, delighted gasp spilled from Regulus’ lips as he finally finished unwrapping his present, emotion thick and heavy in his throat. It was a snowglobe. Inside was a petite version of his beloved writing studio– aka, his room– sitting amidst blankets of the whitest snow. But what truly stole the breath from his lungs were the stars. They were everywhere, constellations painted against the glass in a fine shimmering gold. And when he shook it lightly, they rained down like snow, cascading about the scene like fallen enchantments from the midnight sky.
After a few poor attempts at masking his emotions, Regulus looked back to James, snowglobe held protectively to his chest. “This is… the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen. Why would you give it to me?”
“You’re a star,” said James, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought it was only fitting that you had something to remind you of that.”
“But I have nothing for you…”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” James cocked a brow, his dark complexion set aglow with joy. “I think that’s a good enough present for me. Besides… Gifts aren’t given in order to be returned.”
“Thank you,” was all Regulus could muster, swallowing the tears that flitted to the forefront of his eyes.
Thankfully, James’ excited squeal was enough to quell his emotion, transforming into confusion. “I almost forgot!” He gasped, rushing back to grab another parcel from beneath the tree. Unlike the meticulous wrapping that had gone into the snowglobe, this gift was simply a mess of santa klaus wrapping paper patched together with an array of scotch tape.
Regulus’ brow furrowed. “What’s this?”
“Open it,” he said eagerly, reminding Regulus of Will Ferrell’s strangely endearing representation of buddy the elf. “It’s for you!”
“But you already–”
“Just open it, Reg,” said Sirius, finally looking up from his spot on Remus’ lap. “If you don’t, we’ll be forced to endure Prongs’ whining for the rest of the night… and trust me, that is not an ordeal you want to experience.”
Regulus sighed, but obeyed his brother’s demand, ripping through the paper to reveal his second gift from James– butterflies waltzing to Tchaikovsky’s Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy at the realization. However, his fleeting musings of romance dispersed at the sight of the present inside. Unlike the delicate beauty of his star-kissed snowglobe, there was nothing to be admired about the Christmas Sweater now bunched in his hands.
It was a garishly bright crimson, dotted with rows upon rows of fuzzy trees, bright plastic bulbs meant to resemble ornaments protruded from the fabric, jingling as they moved. Cheap tinsel was stapled upon every hole in the sweater, some of it already beginning to peel free at the touch. By simply holding it up for the rest of the room to admire, Regulus could tell it would be unbearably itchy to wear.
His parents would have despised it.
Regulus was just a bit in love with the frightful thing. And yet…
“I’m not wearing this,” said Regulus, his tone flat.
“Yes you are,” James retorted, scooting further into what Regulus had declared his “personal space.” “Put it on.”
“I already said no, James. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I do have standards.”
“But you’d break them for me, wouldn’t you?” A dangerous grin danced upon his dark features.
“You’re not an exception,” Regulus forced out, his tone already losing its previous conviction.
“Aren’t I?” James raised a brow, looking even more devilishly handsome than before. “Come on love, do it for me. It can be my Christmas present, if you’d like?”
Regulus really did despise him.
“I hate you,” he grumbled as he pulled on the sweater, wincing as the tinsel scratched his star-kissed face. James cooed at the sight, leaning even further into his bubble.
“No you don’t,” he said, soft breath ghosting Regulus’ already flushed cheeks.
“What?” His voice trembled, every inch of him burning with a dangerous desire.
“You don’t hate me, love,” said James, their noses mere inches apart now. If they moved any closer, they would have been kissing.
In one of Regulus’ novels– tinged with ethereal magic and happily ever afters– they would have already done such a thing. Yet again, he longed for that fairytale… wished to live in a snowglobe like the one James had gifted him: dancing round and round with the boy he loved as falling stars kissed their frost-bitten cheeks.
What shocked Regulus was that a once far fetched dream now felt closer than ever, and if he only reached forward, he’d have his happy ending wrapped safely in his arms.
–
Regulus’ eyes fluttered shut, his head resting against James’ shoulder as Home Alone 2 played in the background. He didn’t really mind the movie– might have found it even amusing on a good day– but the cheerful festivities and constant chatter around him had caused exhaustion to dawn on him much earlier that night.
After presents had finished being open and everyone had had a bite of desert, Mr Potter had ushered the group into the basement, urging them to settle in as he turned on what he declared to be ‘the best Christmas movie of all time.’ Naturally, Sirius had taken up his customary seat in his boyfriend’s lap, and everyone else had done accordingly, partnering up with their significant other. At first, it had left Regulus feeling rather lonely, but his mind changed when he recalled the fact that James was single too.
Much to his pleasure, the older boy had been rather enthused by the prospect of sharing the sofa with Regulus, even going so far as to tease him about the prospect of a budding romance– a remark that left permanent splotches of red dancing upon Regulus’ features. As the night dragged further on, the two of them had found themselves rather entangled with one another, cups of hot cocoa discarded in favor of one another’s warm hands and tender touches. This– cuddling with James as a fire crackled in the background– offered Regulus more inspiration for his novels than he had had in months.
He felt like Clara, introduced to a world of enchantments he’d heretofore been unaware of. Dancing nutcrackers and wily mouse kings and bewitching fairies made of sugar plum all existed in James’ touch, infused with the sort of bewitchery that felt impossible to resist.
If Regulus were braver, he might have initiated a kiss. But no matter how deeply he longed for such a thing, that nagging doubt still tugged at him, reminding him that even if James did think to care about Regulus, he would never be worthy of the ray of sun beside him. He was merely a star in the other boy’s orbit, slowly fading away into nonexistence as the rest of the world moved by in a blur.
‘James would never want me,’ he reminded himself, trying not to dwell on the knife that lodged itself into his already shattered heart. His time as an author had made him familiar with tragedies, but that didn’t mean they hurt any less.
A cacophony of sniffles interrupted his lament, turning his waning attention back to the screen in front of him. James, whose head was resting atop Regulus’ raven curls, was perhaps the most emotional of them all. However, Regulus couldn’t exactly blame him. This particular scene– when Kevin wished the ‘pigeon lady’ a merry Christmas– always tugged at his heartstrings. It was a reminder that even the most broken people were invited to enjoy the holidays… a reminder that no matter the aching loneliness one might feel, there would always be someone in the world who loved you.
Tears welled in his eyes, the truth of the statement hitting him a little too hard. His entire life, he’d tried to ignore love– told himself he didn’t want it because he believed he was unworthy. But deep down, it was all he desired… the only thing he scribbled into the margins of his lists for Santa Klaus or wished for upon shooting stars.
He turned to his brother, expecting Sirius to sympathize with his everlasting turmoil, but it seemed he was too distracted to notice. As always, his attention was fully directed towards Remus, adoration glistening in his stormy eyes as he gazed upon the boy beside him.
It was all a bit too much for Regulus, anxiety churning in his stomach like a flurry of snow. He pushed himself up from the sofa, ignoring James’ protests as he fled up the stairs, away from the noisy confines of the family room. Not until he escaped through the patio door and into the night did he allow himself to breathe, the steady descent of silvery snowflakes and broken starlight calming his racing heart.
No matter where he was or what plagued his aching heart, Regulus knew he would always find peace in the night sky. There was something ethereal about the way the constellations glittered up above, painting the ebony twilight with their golden hues. Amidst their varied shapes and sizes, Regulus spotted his sister, smiling down at him from her spot in the Leo constellation. Despite the loneliness that poured inside of him, he allowed himself a soft smile in return.
Regulus sank to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest as he continued his observations. For a long time, he sat beneath the stars, allowing their tall tales and heart-warming stories to flood his mind. The snow– though windy and cold– acted as a comfort to him, adding a bit more whimsy to this quiet new world of his.
“I know you hate Christmas, but there’s no use freezing to death because of it.”
Regulus turned around to see James standing there, a sheepish expression upon his face. In his hands was the star-clustered snowglobe he’d gifted to Regulus, serving as a reminder of the holiday cheer the younger boy had encountered earlier.
Not bothering to wait for an invitation– this was his house, after all– James came to sit beside him, shivering slightly as a swift breeze ruffled their hair. The idiot hadn’t even thought to put on a coat. Regulus found it endlessly endearing.
Tenderly, so as not to break the precious object, he reached for the snowglobe, cradling it once more between his delicate fingers. His gaze returned to the stars, voice soft and breathless as he spoke. “... I don’t hate Christmas.”
“Then why’d you come out here? I assumed it was the movie…”
“In a way, I suppose it was,” said Regulus, unsure why he was about to hand James the most fragile pieces of his heart. He only hoped the boy might be gentle with them. “I just… I know I explained it before, but the holidays have never been easy for me. The thing is, it’s not just because of my parents. As a writer, I’m so used to watching happily ever after come true and concocting fairy tales that never stray too far down the broken path. I give my characters the love they deserve because I know I’ll never be worthy of it… no matter how badly I long for that sort of fantasy.
“I’m…” Regulus choked on his words, a few tears escaping his stormy eyes like unwanted rain. “I’m not a good person, James. I’m selfish and petulant, and I can’t hold a conversation to save my life. Ever since I left my parents house, there’s been this chasm inside of me, and I’m so terrified that someday, it’ll drain me of any remaining emotions I have. I wish so deeply to be loved, but I am well aware that allowing anyone to love me would be a vile thing to do. It would destroy them, and me with it…I could never condemn someone I cared for to such a fate.”
“Regulus…” A warm hand cupped his cheek, the heat of it spreading to every inch of his shaking frame. James tugged him forward, closing the minute distance that lingered between. Just like while opening presents, Regulus felt as if they were being transported somewhere else: to a setting that only existed in the pages of an age-old fairytale. In his eyes lay that same adoration, twinkling with a fervor one could only read about in books… one that wasn’t supposed to exist in the confines of reality.
Regulus’ breath hitched in his throat, his fingers tightening around his beloved snowglobe. “... James?” He asked, prompting the other boy to continue, for he seemed to have gotten lost.
“To love is not to destroy,” said James, his voice sounding more hesitant than Regulus would have thought possible. His free hand reached for Regulus’ curls, carding them gently between his fingers, sparks trickling down the younger’s spine. “I can’t begin to understand how you feel, nor can I pretend I have the words to help you heal your pain… but I can promise you that there is nothing unlovable or unworthy about you. In fact, I think you might be the one person I’ve met who is completely entitled to love.”
Regulus felt as if the falling stars in their snowglobe had stopped moving. “How can you say that?”
“Because I see you, Regulus.” James’ voice was imploring… as gentle as the soft gaze of the waning moon. “I’ve read every single one of your books. The way you write about love is… tantalizing. You transform such a trivial concept into something enchanting and whimsical, yet heartbreaking at the same time. The hearts of your characters are precious treasures I’ve adored… and within them, I like to think I’ve found your heart too. I have to confess I’m rather enamored with it, if I’m being honest.”
The world stopped moving. Snow froze in the frosty air, the butterflies that lept in Regulus’ stomach pausing in the midst of their final waltz. Regulus himself felt like one of his beloved characters: wonderstruck at the confession he’d just witnessed.
James, however, looked as if he were on the verge of a panic, his eyes searching Regulus desperately for answers. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to scare you off, I just thought you–”
“James,” said Regulus, a soft laugh dancing from his lips, turning frigid in the air between them. “I’m fine… Just a little shocked, is all.”
“How could you be shocked?” James asked, sounding nearly affronted.
Regulus shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ve been desperately in love with you for a long time… far before I could truly comprehend what it meant to love. I suppose the possibility of you ever returning such feelings felt so foreign, I nearly believed I had been stolen away into one of my stories. They’re all about you, you know.”
James looked delighted, caressing the roses that had blossomed upon Regulus’ cheeks. No longer so afraid, Regulus melted into the touch, setting down his snowglobe to wrap his arms around James. He was always warm… like the sun’s tender rays, or an open fire, or the festive cheer that had begun to creep into his heart. If this was his reward for being cold, Regulus would never have left the snow again.
With each blow of the gusty winter winds, the two boys inched closer together, their breath mingling together with each soft exhale. Magic seemed to dance around them, Regulus’ ethereal family smiling down at him from their watch in the sky.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” whispered James, brushing a patch of snow from Regulus’ cheek.
Regulus’ eyes glittered with stars, an impish grin settling upon his pale features. “If you’re holding up mistletoe, I will kill you.”
James’ laugh echoed across the lonely night, stars twinkling with amusement at the sound. Even the snow seemed to enjoy it, falling a little lighter as if to give the two lovers a quick reprieve. All Regulus felt was warmth, and the purest joy that could have existed, as if the holidays had come to life.
And then, James kissed him.
The kiss was like a collision of stars, broken starlight painting the sky with its brilliance as the shattered pieces rained upon the earth, just as delicate and fanciful as the snow that now encompassed them. Regulus leaned further into the touch, lingering in the all-encompassing taste of James– cedarwood and cinnamon and something distinctively sweet that he would forever associate with the holiday season.
Around them, snowflakes continued to dance, perhaps performing the Waltz of the Flowers, Regulus’ favorite piece from the Nutcracker ballet. The night sky smiled down at them, offering their congratulations by way of soft twinkling movements. The moon even offered what could have been a wink, though such a movement was faster than a reindeer driven sleigh.
Inside, Regulus was certain Christmas music continued to play as the end credits rolled on Home Alone 2, the rest of their group trudging up to the kitchen to retrieve their second round of hot cocoa and chocolate chip cookies. Perhaps a few of them wondered where Regulus and James wandered off to, but they would have been too preoccupied by the festivities to care. Regulus was glad of it.
He could have existed forever out here, wrapped in the warm embrace of the boy he’d fallen for. It felt as if they were trapped in their own little snowglobe, separate from the rest of the world for as long a time as fate would allow.
“Merry Christmas, Regulus,” James murmured, the words lingering like a sweet aftertaste on Regulus’ lips.
Regulus leaned into the touch, kissing James again… and again… and again, until he knew nothing more than the taste of his lips and the feeling of his body flush with Regulus’ own, the two of them melding together as if they were never meant to be apart.
Regulus smiled, eyes glittering with fractured stars as he gazed around him, taking in the intrinsic beauty of a season he’d despised only moments before, now as precious to him as the snowglobe at his side.
“Merry Christmas, James.”