Magic
“It all looks so pretty!” Pandora practically cooed it as she dragged her best friend into the Christmas market in town. Dragged being the correct word, he was all but clawing at her to make their journey stop. It was no secret that he hated the season, but he’d agreed to spend the day with her and she needed to find a present for Evan. He was the only one she hadn’t found something for and if he won their yearly contest, she’d have to admit he was the better twin. And that was never happening again.
“Yes, yes, very nice. Why couldn’t you order your present online like everyone else?”
“Because shopping for it is half the fun! Come on, Reginald! Your fiancé is the biggest Christmas fan in the world, you could at least try not to scowl at every part of it. Try to enjoy it!”
“What is there to enjoy? The crappy songs? The capitalist-driven consumer driven splurges disguised as bonding? The awful movies which all look the exact same? The bloody sprouts? The ugly jumpers? The-”
“The magic of it, Reg!”
He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, “what magic?”
“All of it!”
Regulus sighed and gloomily trudged behind her as she pranced around each stall, ooo ing and ahh ing every now and then. He glanced up occasionally and he had to admit some of the handmade pieces were beautiful, but it didn’t brighten his mood all that much. He liked winter, he did, just not the festivities which suffocated him during it. His brother seemed to have found a love for it, he’d even learned the dance from Mean Girls , which had admittedly scarred him for life. Remus was neither for or against the holiday which made him… somewhat bearable. He was however a sucker when it came to Sirius, which meant their small cottage became an assault to the senses, cinnamon mixed with cranberries and a constant flow of laughter and joy. The nerve of some people.
And then there was James. Stupidly perfect James, who of course had one fatal flaw. He adored Christmas. And Regulus? Well Regulus’ fatal flaw was James. So their house was coated in stupid tinsel and red and green and gold and a sprinkling of cheer from midnight on December first. Didn’t mean he liked it.
“Reg! Reg, look! Oh, it’s perfect!”
He looked over at her gleeful beckoning, at a small, ornate charm. It was of a holly leaf but didn’t seem absurdly Christmas orientated. It wouldn’t ruin the charm bracelet Evan had had for almost a decade now. Barty had found it in his mum’s old jewellery box and given it to his boyfriend and he hadn’t taken it off since. It was getting quite full now, a sprinkling of charms for different occasions and some just when the moment struck - he had one of a cactus and no one quite understood why.
“It’s gorgeous, Panda, it’ll go perfectly with the socks and book.”
“You think? Ooo, look there’s matching cufflinks. Do you think Barty would absolutely kill me if I got them for me?”
Reg laughed softly and shrugged, “considering he hates having to wear a suit to work, perhaps.”
“But they’re precious!”
“Get them, love, Ev wouldn’t let him kill you anyway. And we both know he’s whipped.”
She beamed at him before talking to the artist animatedly. He let her voice waft over him as he stared out at the people milling around, bundled up in their gloves and scarfs, woolly hats on giggling childrens’ heads. Hands were clasped around warm drinks, heads of couples bent together, their breath visible in the cool air as they muttered words. He supposed there could be a kind of beauty in the joy found in Christmas. The smiling faces and rosy cheeks, the way every word of the shivering carollers was tinted with a grin. Maybe he would like Christmas, if he wasn’t such a stubborn git.
“Okay! Where d’you want to go next?”
“Home?”
“Reg.”
He sighed and raised his hands in surrender, “tell me where we’re going then.”
Pandora grinned at him and tugged on his arm, leading him through the crowds to a small stall he hadn’t noticed on their initial loop around. It was covered in blank baubles and little containers of paint. “Can we, pretty please? The answer’s yes.”
He sighed, it’s not like he’d ever actually been very good at telling his best friend no , “I’ll watch.”
“He’ll paint.” The blonde said brightly to the man standing with a paint stained apron and a steaming mug between his gloved hands.
Regulus sat on the chair he was led to and stared at the bauble in front of him. His best friend had already started painting, chattering excitedly to the seller. He contemplated if she’d notice him darting away, but just as he’d concluded she would, his phone rang. He smiled at the screen as the name flashed up, “hi, mon amour.”
“Reggie! Where are you? I brought home dinner.”
He checked his watch and cursed under his breath, “I’m with Dora, she’s dragged me to this blasted market. I’m meant to be painting a bauble.”
James’ laugh trickled down the line and he had to force back a lovesick grin, “I’ll save you a plate, sweetheart. What’re going to paint?”
“Not the foggiest idea.”
“Hmm, what about a deer?”
“You’re biassed.”
“Just a little. Paint whatever you want, my love, it’s going front and centre whatever it is.”
Reg blushed and looked down at the white ball, “it is?”
“Of course, angel, you’re painting it.”
And there it was, alongside the butterflies soaring through his stomach, magic .