In My Heart Is A Christmas Tree Farm

December 13th, approx. 3:00pm, approx. £35,000 raised so far

“Tables?” 

“Check.” 

“Table cloths ?” 

“Check.” 

“Table decorations?” 

“I think we can move on from tables.” 

“ Table decorations ?” 

“Check.” 

Remus sighs, and crosses a few things off of a sheet of paper on the clipboard in his hand.    

“Good. Is the stage set up?” 

At this particular moment in time, there is a stage in the main part of the Potterly Tree’s shop. Why, you may be wondering? Speeches, of course! And the auction later on, a first for Potterly Trees, where they’re going to sell any furniture or knick knacks from the store that weren’t sold at an earlier time. Remus hopes it raises about £10,000, but he knows the chances of that aren’t too high. 

They’re going to need it, though. They have one more Christmas Market to sell and campaign at for the season, and then…that’s it. They’re done, and all that’s left to do is sit back and watch and wait for the much-needed money to trickle in. 

Now isn’t the time to focus on that, however. Now is the time to make sure they don’t fuck up the decorations for the Christmas Gala. Remus is supervising, because that’s his job at the moment, and directing others on where things should go. 

“Is everything perfect now?” Sirius asks, looking over Remus’ shoulder at the clipboard. It’s very disorganised, so there’s no way of anyone but Remus knowing if it is or isn’t perfect. 

“Almost,” Remus says. “Did you pick up the mistletoe?” 

Sirius grins. “Yep. Should I put it over the boys’ bathroom?” 

“Are you still in primary school?” Remus asks, mystified that Sirius is the one he’s fallen for. 

Sirius rolls his eyes. “No. But we can’t put it somewhere boring.” 

“We have two of them, right?” 

“Right.” 

“I say we put one upstairs, so it’s even on both floors.” 

“Above the balcony?” 

The layout of the building is odd. You walk in, and there’s a stage. Above the stage, there’s a balcony that connects the balconies on either side of the room. They both jut in about 3 metres from the wall, and leave a fair bit of room below them, but it still weirds Remus out. 

“ Perfect , yes.” 

“And the other one?” 

“I say put it in that hallway right before the stairs.”

To get to the balcony, you have to climb a flight of stairs, through a door not many people know about. It’s why there aren’t many tables on the upper level- most people don’t go up there, so they aren’t as needed. 

“Are you sure? Not as many people will get under them if we put them there.” 

Remus shrugs. “Meh. If they want to kiss, they’ll kiss, mistletoe or not.” 

“Oh? Will they?” Sirius asks, making Remus’ stomach do that little flip it always does when he needs it not to. 

“That’s up to them.” 

Sirius leaves it at that, thankfully, but Remus almost wishes he wouldn’t. That he’d actually see if two people who wanted to kiss would need the mistletoe to do so or not. 

“Anything else needed, Captain Remus?” James, appearing seemingly out of thin air after helping organise the stage, asks. 

“I think we’re pretty much all set, once Sirius sets the mistletoe up,” Remus says lightly. He’s still unsure about it completely, and there’s a lot riding on it. 

“Mistletoe?” James inquires, intrigued. 

“Mistletoe,” Remus confirms. 

“I love mistletoe. This party’s gonna be great,” James says excitedly. Remus wishes he shared that enthusiasm, but there’s still the reminder that this job, his first, could go horribly wrong and he’ll end up hurting some of his only friends in the process. 

“Let’s hope.” 

Almost as if to directly contradict his hopes, a loud crash is suddenly heard from upstairs. 

“Do you want me to-” 

“I got it,” Remus says, stopping James from checking up on it. He follows him anyway, up the stairs and near the back of the balcony, where a shocked Sirius is standing. 

“Just a glass,” Sirius reassures, as Remus looks at the pile of glass at his feet. 

“ A glass?” 

“A few glasses,” Sirius clarifies, coughing awkwardly. Remus sighs. 

“Right. I’ll find a broom. Why were there glasses?” 

“I was trying to put a few candles up here on the tables for, you know, a more romantic vibe or something,” Sirius explains. Remus notices the candles randomly littered across the scattered tables surrounding them, and any annoyance at Sirius easily disperses. “I then stood on a table, trying to hang the mistletoe, and slipped. The table sort of crashed into a few others, and…” 

The annoyance is back, but not in full force. 

“Well…get a ladder next time, or something,” Remus nods at him. “I’m off to find a broom. James- could you get the pieces-”

“I’ll get the broom,” James volunteers. “I already know where one is.” 

James then just goes right back down the stairs and out the large barn doors, heading straight for…something, that Remus doesn’t entirely know about. 

“I’ll try to get the large pieces and some of the wax,” Sirius says, easily picking up the pieces. 

“I can help,” Remus offers, bending down next to him and scooping parts of the candles into his cupped palm. 

The thing about trying to pick up broken glass is that it is still broken glass, no matter how carefully you hold it. Remus realises this when, upon changing hand positions, he feels a piece slice into his palm. 

“Ouch,” he mutters, reflexively dropping the rest of the glass in his hand, only causing it to shatter more on the floor again. 

“You good?” Sirius asks, looking over, and wincing when he sees the gash on Remus’ hand. 

“Let me see that,” he says, and Remus holds out his hand, because of course he does. 

“There’s a first aid kit somewhere up here,” Sirius says, taking Remus’ hand in his own, and leading him to the other side of the balcony, and through another small door, where a small closet lies. 

“When this was a barn, James hid a first aid kit up here under a few barrels of hay. I don’t even know why they had hay, or why I didn’t just go to his house, but when we cleaned it out about 7 seven years ago, we kept the kit. It should be in here,” Sirius says, and begins to dig through the small alcove. 

“That was nice of him,” Remus says softly, waiting by the edge, and not entirely sure what else to say. 

“He’s a nice person,” Sirius shrugs. “I think he liked the adventure aspect of the barn. Sneaking out, walking up here, and the first night, bringing the kit. Man, Effie and Fleamont were so pissed when they found out,” Sirius laughs. “I mean, it was a bit silly, but…” 

“It meant a lot to both of you. This little place of solace,” Remus fills in for him. Sirius nods. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” 

Sirius shrugs. “My pleasure, although I’m sorry you got hurt.” 

What’s another scar? Remus thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s found out that most people don’t like it when you bring up that super traumatic event from your childhood in a joking manner. But maybe Sirius would get it; it’s not rocket science to guess why Sirius needed the first aid kit in the first place. 

“It’s all good. I mean, what’s another scar?” Remus jokes, deciding to just go for it. It’s Sirius. He’ll either laugh, or Remus will never speak to him after December 25th. 

Sirius stays silent for a few moments. Welp , Remus thinks, I blew it. But then, Sirius does nothing unexpected. He laughs , slow at first, but gradually builds it up, until he’s almost full on howling , making Remus laugh, too. 

Eventually, he stops, wiping his eyes. “Amen to that, Remus, amen to that.”

Gently, he takes out a roll of gauze, well preserved despite the years of disuse, and starts to wrap Remus’ hand with a softness and tenderness Remus had only ever glimpsed in Sirius that night in the moonlight. No glass was stuck in the cut, thankfully. That night was filled with so many regrets for Remus, but now, seeing him even more clearly, they just started to…vanish. Telling him about his history of criminals wasn’t regrettable now, just something that bonded them. 

“Where’d you learn to do this? I can’t imagine it was taught at Hogwarts,” Remus asks, mostly to keep the conversation going, although the silence isn’t uncomfortable. 

“Regulus,” Sirius answers quietly. “If I couldn’t take the hits for him, or I couldn’t get there in time to distract our parents, then he’d be the one needing all this. We couldn’t have a first aid kit, so it’d usually be whatever I borrowed from James or some random cloth. He’s probably a lot more experienced with this- I got into way more trouble.” 

Remus lets that sit there for a second, choosing his response carefully. “Is that why you were hesitant about reconnecting with him? Because he’s still with…them?” 

If talking about Sirius’ birth parents leaves such a sour taste in Remus’ mouth, he can only imagine what it’s like for Sirius. 

“Part of it, yeah. If it’s so easy for him to continuously choose them, then how do I know he’ll ever choose me?” Sirius says, shaking his head. “You’re all done, by the way.” 

“Thank you. For the aid, and telling me, though I am sorry. It’s not fair what they did to you.” 

“It’s not fair what that man did to you, either,” Sirius says, then shrugs. “Life is unfair. You learn to get over it, after a while.” 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “But we got the short end of the stick, I think.” 

“I’ll agree to that,” Sirius says, a slight chuckle in his voice, and the sadness from the previous conversation evaporates just like that. 

“Are you still excited about the party, then?” Remus asks, walking behind Sirius as they return to ground level through the staircase hallway. 

“It’s a party, of course I’m excited,” Sirius says it like it’s insulting to think he wouldn’t be, which Remus supposes is fair. “Hey- did James ever come back with the broom?” 

“Not that I can remember,” Remus replies, trying to recall if he did. So far, nothing in his memory suggests that he did. 

“That’s…odd,” Sirius says. Remus can’t think why, because maybe he just didn’t find a broom, until Sirius jiggles the handle of the door and it doesn’t budge. “He locked the fucking door.” 

“Maybe he meant to come back later with a broom?” Remus suggests, but even as he does, he can guess that’s not it. 

A look of realisation passes across Sirius’ face. “I’m going to kill him, I swear.” 

“For what?” 

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” 

“This is a pretty nice stairwell,” Remus comments, looking around. There’s the classic wooden stairs, a handrail, and nothing else to comment on. Nothing else except what’s above them. 

“I decorated it earlier,” Sirius says. “Mistletoe. Right there, about.” 

Almost perfectly centred above them, Remus notes. 

“Mistletoe,” Remus breathes in agreement, his eyes darting quickly from the plant above him and Sirius to the lips in front of him, which suddenly seem very close. 

“Well…it’s Christmas, right?” Sirius answers, more unsure than Remus has ever heard him speak before. The sound from outside the door, so bustling before, seems to slow down and become quiet. Remus’ heartbeat in his ear is the loudest thing to him, so loud he hopes Sirius can’t hear it with how close they are. 

“Of course. We can’t disrespect tradition,” Remus says slowly, justifying it, in any desperate way he can. 

“So…” 

Remus leans in, going for just a little peck, but oh one little peck is not going to be enough. Not when it’s Sirius Black. 

Sirius leans forward at the same time, their lips crashing against each other, and immediately pulling away at the same time. It doesn’t last- they take one look at each other before they’re crashing into each other now, lips be damned. 

Sirius’ arm is wrapped around Remus’ waist, and Remus glides his fingers through Sirius’ hair, always so soft and smooth it’s impossible. Speaking of hair, Remus feels his own welcome sturdy fingers, and his only goal at that moment is to get them closer together. He’s glad they had the conversation earlier- even if it impaired the mood, it got him emotionally closer to Sirius as well. 

He feels his hand, only just starting to heal, break open again, but the gauze doesn’t matter much to him at the moment. 

This is so much better than just the little peck Remus originally thought it was going to be. This loud, rushing sound that might just be happiness taking control of his body is much preferred to the palpable silence that occurred only moments before. Was it only moments? Remus can’t tell. His only thought is Sirius’ lips on his own, desperate and a bit chapped and perfect nonetheless. He’s a bit confused when they first leave him, but he quickly realises where they go and can’t find a single objection inside him. 

Sirius is on his neck, gliding down to his collarbone and Remus can’t do anything but give in completely. A small noise slips out, and Remus has to clamp his teeth down to make sure it doesn’t happen again but it’s so tempting , because it’s Sirius who finds it funny, and who’s moved down to his collarbone, his tongue slowly flicking over the spots he’s leaving. 

When he comes up for air, not going too low (if that even exists for Remus), Remus moves in, planning to leave Sirius just as bruised as he is sure to be the next morning. He gets a small lip bite in, extracting a similar noise from Sirius, before the door to the hallway starts to jiggle and much too quickly opens. 

“‘Scuse me mates, just need to slip by and Oh my god ,” James quickly says, his voice rising dangerously at the end. Almost instinctively, Sirius pushes Remus away, leaving him feeling confused for a second before realising, oh shit, James has just walked in on them. 

“Mistletoe,” Sirius says quickly, a bit breathlessly. 

James just blinks slowly, then gives Sirius a look and a “I need to know everything later,” before leaving, and closing the door. Of course he would. 

“That was…” Sirius says, for once at a total loss for words.

“I don’t know how it was for you ,” Remus clarifies, “but that was completely insane. To me.” 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know if any other kiss will ever measure up,” Sirius says. “I mean, we could test it out- we’re still under…”

“No,” Remus quickly disagrees, shaking his head fast. “I mean, not no , but not yet. You’re technically still my client. I could get fired . Oh- oh, man, I could get fired. That isn’t good.” 

He hadn’t exactly been thinking of consequences when Sirius was on him before, as that was all he could think of, or when they were playfully flirting, because that’s all it was- playful. But this? This has crossed some line, and while Remus would dive right over that line, he isn’t ready to risk his job for it yet. 

“No, no, you’re right. Unfortunately. Really unfortunately, but that makes sense. I get it. But I will be on your doorstep, December 25th, mark my words. Consider it a Christmas gift, of sorts.” 

Remus shakily nods his head, already counting down the days, eyes on Sirius as he exits, who’s now fixing his now messy hair as he rejoins the setup. Remus stays in the small hallway for a second, then quickly fixes his own hair and pulls his collar up. High. Maybe he can ask someone to borrow concealer, but for now, he just has to hope nobody looks at him too closely. 

He exits a few minutes after to avoid suspicion, then finally exits, and grabs the broom that was left outside the doorway. 

"Was there always a broom here?" He asks James, passing through, and trying to remain undected. 

"Yeah. I came back with it..and clearly, you two were occupied." 

"We can blame the locked door for that," Remus says, looking at him with a sheepish grin. 

"That thing? I only did that so nobody else would go up!"

That bastard, Remus thinks. 

As he crosses under the mistletoe again, on his way to throw the bag in the rubbish bins, Remus can’t help but look forward to the rest of the party. Tonight is guaranteed to be fun.

__________________________________ 

December 13th, approx. 6:45, approx. £37,900 raised 

Regulus didn’t want to be a no-show at James’ party. 

Also, his parents made him come to spy and see if they would do well, but Regulus really did want to see how James and Sirius were getting on with this whole…fundraising business. 

The main part of Potterly Trees, the place where little goods and christmas trinkets were sold and you could usually find Effie or Fleamont in was where the event was hosted. It used to be a barn, so there was a fair amount of floor space, mostly occupied by people dancing. The surrounding area was littered with tables and the area above the main floor, looking over the party, had a few partygoers lingering in it as well. For now, most people stuck by the tall circular tables with their friends. Regulus had even brought Dorcas, to have one himself, but the traitor was off galavanting with Marlene. Marlene was likeable enough, and she clearly made Dorcas happy, but she was also just another person close to James and Sirius who wasn’t him. Regulus was surprised to notice how unlikeable that made her. 

Regulus hangs back near the staircase to the upstairs level, which was near the back of the barn, or at least as far away from the stage as he could get. This doesn’t stop Sirius from finding him. 

“Hey, look who showed up!” Sirius says, slugging Regulus on the arm in what was probably an attempt to be light-hearted and joking. Regulus takes this opportunity to grab Sirius’ wrist, and twist it. 

“Ok, so someone clearly isn't in a merry mood,” Sirius mutters, leaning against the wall next to Regulus and rubbing his wrist. 

“Whatever gave you that impression, most observant brother of mine?” 

“Oh, piss off.” 

“You first. I was here first.” 

“Why’d you even come if you’re not in the Christmas mood, huh?” Sirius asks, looking mock offended at the very idea. 

“Truthfully, curiosity. I wanted to see it for myself when this all went up in flames.” 

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter. Regulus isn’t technically lying- he did come out of someone’s curiosity, just not entirely his own. Admittedly, he does hope this event didn’t crash and burn, but that wasn’t up to him. 

“Good luck with that, then. So far things are going great.” 

“I can tell.” 

“Mad?” 

Regulus would’ve liked to say yes, but he wasn’t. Deep inside, he really does hope Starry Night doesn’t buy Potterly Trees. It would’ve been a shame, and it would have crushed James and Sirius if they did, along with the very spirit of Christmas itself. 

“Not entirely.” 

“Careful there, Reggie. If you don’t watch what you say, I might get the impression you’re actually rooting for things to go our way.” 

“You might be right,” Regulus shrugs. Despite his joking manor, Sirius seems a bit shocked, and lets out a low whistle. 

“What, did Remus just walk into the room?” 

Sirius chokes a bit at that, but quickly recovers, biting back with, “No, I just didn’t think your heart would ever thaw.” 

“Charming words, as always.” 

“Imagine if Walburga and Orion heard you hoping for us.” 

“Imagine if I set this building on fire and escaped before you ever caught me and Potterly Trees went bankrupt?” 

“What’s that about us going bankrupt?” James somehow appears next to Sirius, looking very confused. Also, very attractive in that suit. Very. “Because if this night stays on the same track, we might do ok enough to make it to next year.” 

“Don’t mind him, Reggie’s just threatening arson.” 

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” Regulus demands, cheeks burning a bit at the nickname in present company. Or maybe it’s not the nickname, but just the present company that makes him blush. He won’t think about it too hard, for his own sake. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve threatened to set Starry Night on fire loads of times. Call it even,” James laughs. 

“Every single one of our buildings? Without getting caught? I’d be impressed,” Regulus smoothly replies, recovering well from the shock of James showing up at all and from the embarrassing nickname. 

“Well, that’s just about the highest honour a man could hope for, impressing Regulus Black,” James says, and winks . He fucking winks . 

Whatever insult Regulus had went out the window, and he only meekly offered Dorcas to borrow for the trial because he would eventually be caught. 

“It’s ok- I’d break you out, Jamie,” Sirius reassures, as James questions if Dorcas is actually good enough to talk him out of jail for committing arson against an entire company and every one of their properties. Her own company, even. 

It was like a double punch to the gut. Even in this stupid hypothetical world, Sirius would break James out of whatever prison he was in, and they still didn’t trust his friends. Clearly, that meant they didn’t trust him, either. 

“How sweet. I’ll be upstairs,” Regulus says, and quickly whisks himself away. 

No matter how much progress they’ve made, it still hurts. It only hurts more that Regulus can notice this. Before, he could’ve shrugged off the fact Sirius would do more for James than he would for Regulus. But now, it hurts more , because he’s managed to convince himself that it wasn’t the case anymore. 

Upstairs, above the main party, the balcony is pretty much deserted. Regulus finds a nice corner to hide in, as far away from the edge as possible to avoid anyone looking up. He’s not going to cry, because he never does, obviously, but it’s still embarrassing to be in an emotionally vulnerable state in a room full of strangers. He wishes he’d brought another one of his friends, in addition to Dorcas, with him. Pandora would’ve loved meeting Euphemia and Fleamont, and it’d be a lot better for him, as he could have someone besides Sirius and James to talk to. 

James fucking Potter, the ruiner of days and nights. 

Even thinking anything negative about James feels like blasphemy to Regulus at that moment. Oh, he really wishes he could’ve gone back to a couple months ago now, when insulting James felt like second nature. Now, he can’t find it in himself to find something negative about him, and could he ever really? His “stealing” of Sirius only showed his good heart, his arrogance was just confidence, and…no, that’s really all he complained about, he just did it a lot . 

It wasn’t Regulus’ fault James was always on his mind. He was absolutely infectious, honestly, and Regulus was only human. 

“Are you…okay?” 

Completely fucking infectious. How the hell did James know he was up here? 

“I’m fine,” Regulus answered curtly. 

“Are you? You don’t seem it,” James says, just caring enough to not make Regulus want to strangle him for pointing it out. In fairness, it’s pretty obvious he isn’t - he has his head between his knees, balled up on an empty floor of the party. 

Regulus shrugs. “It doesn’t matter if I am or not.” 

“I think it does.” 

“Why? Did Sirius send you up here?” Regulus’ tone is suddenly accusing, making James backtrack quickly. 

“No, no, I came up here on my own. You seemed upset, and I wanted to find out why. I feel like it may be my fault.” 

It was, but Regulus couldn’t explain why. 

“I’m guessing Sirius didn’t notice?” It’s low, he knows it, but he doesn’t really care. It’s not very christmassy, happy family of him, but then again neither are him and Sirius. Sirius can pretend he’s in a happy family all he wants, that he’s fine, but Regulus accepted it a long time ago that he won’t ever have that. 

“He was the first one to, actually, but figured you’d want to be alone.” 

“Smart of him. You could learn a few things from him.” 

“I’d like to. Things about you. You seem like an interesting person, Regulus,” James says honestly, and oh the things Regulus could do to him right now. Like punch him. Or take his face in his hands, bring it closer, and- 

“I can assure you, I’m not.” 

“I disagree. You have a cool job - I think, I don’t actually know what you do - and you’re very mysterious. Like a black cat.” 

Regulus isn’t sure how to respond to that. “Thank you, I think?” 

“You’re welcome. Did that cheer you up?” 

Regulus immediately puts a stop to the smile creeping up his face, returning back to usual scowl. “No.” 

“I could tell you fun Christmas facts,” James offers, as he scoots next to Regulus against the far wall. 

“My ears would bleed. I’m good.” 

“The tallest Christmas tree was a douglas fir. It was 67 metres tall,” James says anyway. 

“Why would you know that?” 

“I own a Christmas tree farm, of course. You had to memorise that fact in Christmas tree class, a required course to be able to move up to Christmas world class and eventually own part of a Christmas business.” 

The idea is so absurd, and James says it so naturally, Regulus just has to laugh. 

“I didn’t take any class like that,” he says, to make up for the temporary lapse. 

“Well, you don’t own anything for one, and Starry Night isn’t a Christmas business. Just a business that uses Christmas,” James says. “I don’t think your parents got an A in the history of Christmas, or what it means to be jolly. Clearly it’s not.” 

Despite himself, and his conflicting feelings about James, Regulus laughs again. “Fine. Tell me another one.” 

“The Germans are the ones who started decorating Christmas trees. They used nuts and fruits and stuff, way back in the 16th century.” 

“Another thing learned in Christmas tree farm school?” 

“Yep!” 

“Ok, fine. Give me another fact. One lesser known.” 

“Have you heard of Krampus? You two might be friends.” 

“I have heard of him, actually. Good old Mum and Dad used to tell us Krampus would be the one delivering our presents, and taking us instead, if we misbehaved during Christmas dinner. Sirius, especially, was scared of him. He made me sleep in his room one Christmas, because he broke a lot of dishes that night.” 

“Oh,” James says, a bit more quiet. The way he says it, it makes Regulus feel bad for exaggerating and straight up lying. It was a funny joke, really. 

“I’m only joking. Sorry. They didn’t teach us to believe in any of those mythical creatures. Sirius did break a lot of dishes, though. Many dinners.” 

Regulus leaves out that the shared sleeping room is true, too. Let James come to his own conclusions about that. 

“Not even Father Christmas?” 

“Particularly Father Christmas. Any presents, if we got them, were all practical and from dear Mum and Dad.” 

“That’s so sad ,” James says. “Sirius never told me that.” 

“I don’t blame him. He usually didn’t get any. One time, they wrapped up this big box, with a big bow and everything, with his name. He was so excited about it, seeing it under the tree for a month. Then the big day came, and…coal. Filled to the brim with coal . He was so upset he didn’t do boxing day that day. Just sat in his room all day. Did he tell you that story?” 

James shakes his head. 

“I don’t blame him. I think he was freshly 16 that Christmas. Fun year for him, clearly,” Regulus says bitterly. 

“I wouldn’t tell me that, either. I’m a bit sorry this is how I found out, honestly. Was your Christmas ever that bad?” 

Regulus stays quiet for a minute, thinking of all the times they were, but they could’ve been worse. 

“Sorry. You don’t have to answer that- it’s personal, I get it-” 

“Christmas. 9 years ago. You may recall this was the Christmas the same year he ran away. I don’t even know what I expected, but instead of something disappointing, there was just…nothing. No tree. No decorations. No presents. No Christmas crackers. In a way, I guess, I still was disappointed. That was the worst one,” Regulus decides. He doesn’t say the main reason why - Sirius wasn’t there with him - but he feels like it’s implied. He doesn’t add that he almost thought that Christmas would be good because Sirius wasn’t there. It was a selfish hope, he knows, but a realistic one at least. 

“That sounds wretched,” James agrees. 

“Tell me another fact. A cheery one, this time. That last one was way more depressing than it needed to be,” Regulus says, and scoots closer to James. Their arms are almost touching. He’s acutely aware of it. 

“Not my fault,” James says, chuckling. “But your wish is my command. Kissing under mistletoe dates back to the first century AD. The plant symbolises love and fertility, and all that good stuff.” 

Regulus’ eyes immediately go to the mistletoe on the balcony above them, where the plant is hung. 

“Sirius put that one up,” James says, looking at it too. 

“It’s in a bad spot. Hardly anyone is up here. If he wanted people to kiss under it, he should’ve put it downstairs somewhere.” 

The music from downstairs, a constant loop of Christmas songs, floats up to them. Currently, Regulus can pick out the voice of Taylor Swift, singing something about kissing and mistletoe. 

“We’re up here,” James points out, in what he probably thinks is a helpful manor. 

“We are. But we’re not under the mistletoe.” 

“We could be.” 

Regulus chokes on his next sentence at that, sputtering a bit. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from, sorry,” James sputters, apologising over and over again. 

“It’s fine, James, it’s fine,” Regulus says, recovering fairly well after a last final hack . “Really, I don’t mind-” 

“Oh, you don’t?” James says, a bit of flirtation creeping back into his voice, making Regulus realise how that may sound. The candles lit on a few of the surrounding tables really aren’t helping ease the tension in the room, so palpable you could cut it. 

“I…won’t answer that. I don’t know. Don’t ask me about that right now,” Regulus says, shaking his head, and trying to decipher his own words. James Potter, making him lose his mind and control of his mouth. 

“Right! Yes- you’re right, I shouldn’t. Our first kiss would have to be somewhere romantic, and not under a mistletoe. More organic.” 

“It seems like you’ve given a lot of thought to that,” Regulus notices. James’ cheeks are tinged a bit pink by that revelation, but he continues nevertheless. 

“I won’t deny or confirm that.” 

“I won’t deny or confirm that I don’t mind that, then,” Regulus says, the first step he’s actively taken to hint to James. What is he even doing? He doesn’t even know. But it makes James blush more, and that’s got to count for something . 

It must be the suit, Regulus decides. The suit, the one that makes James oh-so-very attractive. It’s warping his mind. 

“Well, that’s settled, then,” James says, standing up, and Regulus hurries up after him, confused about what mistake he made to make James decide so quickly. And to find out what he’s decided so quickly. 

“What’s settled? What are you talking about?”

“It’s up to me to show you the magic of Christmas and Christmas kisses not under mistletoe. I mean, we could try it, but I don’t think it’d be as magical as in a Christmas market surrounded by softly falling snow, with the light from local stands illuminating us with a warm glow, and the night so dark and cold except in this one spot, and-” 

“You have given thought to it, then,” Regulus says, relieved James hasn’t decided to leave. 

“I won’t deny or confirm that,” James repeats, but winks again . What is with this man? What kind of witchcraft is he doing? 

“But you will confirm that it has to be a Christmas market?” Regulus asks, trying to get the bigger picture, and more curious about James’ idea- and how to correctly fulfil it. 

“I will. I’ll also confirm there’s going to be one next week. December 20th and 21st, Potterly Trees has a stand in a market in the City of Westminster. Would you care to join?” 

It’s honestly embarrassing how little hesitation Regulus has when he answers yes without a second thought. 

“Amazing. I’ll text you the details, along with a few more facts. Like, for example, the Christmas market history can be traced back to 1296, in Italy . And a few more Christmas gifs.” 

“Thanks, James,” Regulus says, almost laughing. One thing Regulus has observed while hanging out with James- he is a person of almosts. Almost this, almost that, almost everything. James makes him want to fully commit to something for the first time in a long time. 

“No biggie,” he smiles at him again, flashing brilliant white teeth. “Did it cheer you up?” 

“I can confirm, it did.” 

Effie’s voice on the microphone breaks the moment, announcing the auction is going to start soon. Regulus had almost forgotten about that. 

“Be back soon. Kind of have to help with that!” James says, then leaves, right down the stairs. After a few minutes, Regulus follows him, but instead of turning towards the stage, he turns towards the door. Grabbing his coat, he leaves, with the distant sounds of money being made cutting off when he closes the door. 

The air is chilly, he notices immediately. He’s glad he remembered his coat. He sends a quick text to Dorcas, letting her know he’s leaving, before actually calling his driver to pick him up. 

“Mum?” He asks, the phone slightly away from his ear to ease the hearing damage. 

“What did you find out?” She demands instantly. 

“It’s working, but less so. Some of the campaigns have worked, but…” 

“Work harder, ” Orion adds in, because of course he’s near, too. 

“I am. It’s not my fault they were right.” 

“Regulus Arcturus Black…” Orion cautions, very carefully drawing out his full name. Uh oh.

“Sorry. I will try harder. They have a Christmas Market next weekend- I think I’ll go.” 

“Sounds good. How about you actually try this time?” 

Regulus had no intentions of doing that, but he told his parents he did, and with a quick goodbye, hung up. Slowly sinking into his seat, he became aware of the increasingly dangerous situation he was getting himself into. James Potter could be a dangerous idea, being his brother’s best friend and all, but going directly against his parents? Well, it was basically a death wish, to put it lightly.