Angels in a Row
Everyone's together in that moment of your life
Frozen in a snow globe, spin so slowly like you're stuck in time,
When everyone's together in that moment of your life
All the tiny changes, pile up until you're snowed inside
December 23rd, 1976
When Regulus moved into the Potter’s house this summer, he was aware of how idyllic it was. A happy family, space to roam without fear, and more than enough love to go around. It was nice. Foreign, but nice.
That being said, if Regulus thought that summer at the Potter’s was idyllic, he had no idea what was waiting for him come Christmas.
Christmas at the Potter’s is, well, perfect. It’s like something out of a storybook. Tinsel and garlands line the banister of the stairs and the Christmas tree in the drawing room is enchanted to with real, fresh snow and floating, ever-burning candles. Mrs. Potter and Bea spend most of their time in the kitchen baking and cooking, so the house stays warm and the smell of cookies or roast chicken is constant. Unless it’s the evening, past dinner time. Then, the house smells of hot cocoa and hot tea with honey. Mrs. Potter dotes on them constantly, feeding them or pressing kisses to the tops of their heads. Her love is evident and it fills up the house, by extension filling up everyone in it with that love too. Mr. Potter, who’s taken an interest in Regulus and demands he calls him Monty, spends time with the boys. He asks questions about school and Quidditch. He teaches them spells and tells stories of his time at school or early days at the Ministry. He’s just as full of love and joy as Mrs. Potter. It’s genuine. Pure. Palpable. It’s no wonder why James is the way he is. He’s made from something good.
Regulus didn’t know that a family home could feel like this.
Christmas at Grimmauld Place never felt like a holiday. When the season comes, winter takes hold of the mansion, making it feel even icier and dark than it usually does. There are no carols sung in Grimmauld. No warm, festive decorations or nights spent by the fireplace laughing together. There are no real presents, just the exchange or bestowal of family heirlooms. It’s cold. Joyless. It’s what Regulus has always known. It’s no wonder he’s the way he is. He was shaped into this.
It’s been interesting for Regulus, these first couple of days at the Potter’s house. He watches as Sirius walks around the house, hugs Mrs. Potter, or teases Monty like he’s always been a part of the family. To an outsider, it probably would seem that way. He fits right in. Regulus does not.
He’s doing his best, but it seems that every time he begins to settle in, reality comes knocking. He doesn’t get to have this. At least, not for a long time. Not until the war is over, if he survives that.
Regulus has noticed that Remus seems to feel close to as out of place as he does. He doesn’t know much about Lupin’s family background, but the fact that he’s here for the holidays is telling enough. It’s doubtful that he’s used to a Christmas, or family, like this either. Regulus watches as Remus ducks away from hugs or gives Monty short answers to personal questions. To Regulus, it seems that Remus feels this is fleeting as well.
James helps with it all. He seems to notice when Regulus gets tugged into the corners of his mind and pulls him back out. A squeeze on his shoulder or a smile in his direction. Regulus appreciates it, even if his heart aches half the time, knowing that soon enough, he won’t even have the privilege of that.
Regulus’ favorite part of break so far has been the nights. Not the evenings, when everyone is together, although that has been nice. Regulus is talking about the nights when James crawls into bed with him. At first, Regulus was paranoid, but James assured him that it was fine and his parents wouldn’t know. Even if they did, he told Regulus, they wouldn’t mind. Somehow, Regulus knew he was telling the truth. And what a shame that is, isn’t it? For Regulus to find someone with a family who’d welcome him with open arms, just for him to be unable to keep them?
He’s allowed himself to be in a funk about it all the first few days but has resolved to let it go for Christmas and the weeks following. Dorcas told him to take advantage of this time and she’s never misled him, so that’s what he’s going to do. Not just for his own sake, but James’. He deserves that from Regulus. It’s the least he can give him.
“You okay?” James whispers, his lips brushing against Regulus’ temple. It’s one of their nights right now, tucked away in Regulus’ bed. James has a leg and arm thrown over Regulus’ body, enveloping him. He’s warm.
“I’m fine,” Regulus sighs, his eyelids fluttering open. “I’m just thinking. That’s all.”
“Mm,” James hums and places a kiss on Regulus’ neck. “Typical Reg, always thinking.”
“You should try it sometime,” Regulus responds, breathily. James is still kissing down his neck and has shifted so that he’s hovering over him as he does.
James huffs a laugh against Regulus’ collarbone before nipping at it. “I could do that, or I could do something else.”
“And what would that be?”
“I could do something to distract you,” James grins up at him, pausing the kisses he’s pressing on his sternum. “Stop all that thinking of yours for a minute or two.”
Regulus feels his cheeks flush and wonders vaguely if James can tell, even in the darkness of the room. He nods, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah, okay. Make me stop thinking then.”
—
Afterwards, they lay together. Regulus’ head is spinning a little bit and his chest is rising and falling a little heavier than usual.
“Love you, Reg,” James murmurs, cuddling up to him.
“I love you too,” Regulus says, immediately. With ease.
James hums happily, pulling Regulus closer to him. They’re both quiet a moment, and sleep calls to Regulus. His eyelids are starting to droop, and he’s so warm and content. He wishes he could take this moment and freeze it. Hide it away for safekeeping, just like the letters that James gives him.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” James whispers. “Are you excited for the party?”
“It should be interesting,” Regulus admits. James jostles him as he laughs at his response. Regulus rolls his eyes, even though James can’t see his face. “Okay, whatever. It’ll be fun.”
“There we go,” James smiles into Regulus’ cheek. Regulus closes his eyes again, ready to sleep.
“It’s almost your birthday,” James says, suddenly.
“The 27th,” Regulus responds, turning to look at him. “Did I tell you that? I’m surprised you know.”
“Sirius did, a while ago,” James admits. “I never forgot, though. It’s so close to Christmas. Can’t believe you haven’t mentioned it.”
Regulus smiles to himself. He wonders if James knows how long he’s liked him. Wonders if maybe he should tell him. He’d like to know that, probably.
“I’m gonna make sure you have the best birthday you’ve ever had,” James tells him. “I promise.”
Regulus could tell him that he believes him, or tease him, or tell him that he’s never cared much for birthdays, but he doesn’t. He just kisses him and hopes that says enough.
—
December 24th, 1976
When Regulus leaves his room the morning of Christmas Eve, he’s confronted by chaos.
Pure fucking chaos, but in a fun way.
The house is as alive as it can be, even though it’s barely 7:00 am. Decorations are whizzing through the air, clearly being transported to their appropriate locations. Music is playing loudly from downstairs, and Regulus catches a glimpse of Bea levitating a stack of Christmas china down the stairs, a tinsel crown atop her head.
“Crazy, isn’t it?”
Regulus starts slightly, turning to face Sirius, who’s grinning at him and leaning against the wall.
“It’s always like this. Every damn year,” Sirius tells him. He shakes his head, still smiling. “I never thought I’d get a Christmas like this, did you? I mean, at least not until I was older. Once I had my own family and all of that.”
Regulus had never considered the prospect of a Christmas different than the ones at Grimmauld Place, to be honest. He knew that Christmas wasn’t that way with other families, but he never wished for something else. Not really. “Yeah,” He nods. “I didn’t think so either.”
Sirius steps forward and throws an arm around Regulus’ shoulder as he tousles his hair. “Look at us, Reggie. We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?”
Regulus swallows before giving Sirius a small smile. “Yeah, Sirius. We’re going to be alright.”
—
“Okay, boys,” Effie says, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s in the process of assembling mince pies. She turns to face them at the kitchen table. “I know it’s your hols, but you four are going to have to pull some weight around here. The party starts at 8:00 PM and it’s,” she pauses, checking the clock on the wall, “8:30 AM now. There’s a lot to do.”
“Got it, Mum,” James says between bites of his waffle, nodding. “Just tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”
“Yeah, Effie,” Sirius agrees. “Consider us at your service. Your wish is our command.” Regulus rolls his eyes at the wink his brother gives to James’ mum.
“You are such a kiss arse,” Regulus mutters under his breath.
Sirius gasps. Loudly. “Regulus! Language, please! Where is your decorum?”
“Sorry, mother,” Regulus deadpans.
“Ouch,” Sirius winces, jokingly. He puts his hand over his heart like he’s been wounded. “I didn’t know we were taking things that far.”
Regulus’ lips twitch and he looks down at his place, quickly scooping eggs into his mouth to hide the smile that’s threatening to make an appearance.
“Oh, brotherly love,” James sighs, dramatically. He places his chin on his hand and stares at Sirius and Regulus like he’s mesmerized by them. “Mum, do you see what I missed out on? Think about how funny I would have been if I had a sibling to terrorize.”
Mrs. Potter gives him a look. “You’re cheeky enough as it is. You’re just fine.”
“I don’t have a sibling either, James,” Remus chimes in. “I’m quite funny though, so I don’t think that’s the root of it all. I think it’s just a you problem.”
“Skill issue,” Regulus nods, unable to keep the smile off his face this time. Lupin flashes a grin at him.
“Hey!” James yelps, giving Regulus a betrayed look. He just shrugs back. “I’m funny! Sirius, tell them that I’m funny!”
“It’s okay, Prongs,” Sirius says, solemnly. He reaches over and grasps James’ hand, staring intensely into his eyes. He heaves a sigh before speaking again. “We can’t all be the funny one. For example, Regulus isn’t funny either. You two are perfect for each other.”
James guffaws, shaking him off. Regulus, on the other hand, blushes immediately. He looks over to Mrs. Potter who’s watching the boys from her spot by the stove. She meets Regulus’ eyes and winks at him, causing him to flush darker and turn away from her.
Even if they knew, James had told him, they wouldn’t mind.
Even if they knew, they wouldn’t mind.
—
“I thought you’d be good at this,” Mrs. Potter hums, approvingly. Regulus is chopping vegetables in the kitchen for her. The other boys are off cleaning and setting things up for the party. “James told me that you’re excellent at potions. Potioneers are always good at chopping and mincing. Preparing ingredients and all that.”
Regulus glances up at her and smiles— a close-lipped one, and nods. “That’s kind of James to say, but I’m no potioneer. Not yet, at least. I’m just good at the class.”
Mrs. Potter has gone back to stirring a bowl of batter. He’s noticed that when it comes to cooking, she seems to do a lot of it the Muggle way. He doesn’t ask why.
“I’ve heard Horace Slughorn speak highly of you,” Effie tells him. “You’re in the Slug Club, just like James, aren’t you? And top of your class?”
“Well—” Regulus begins, but closes his mouth, thinking better of it. “I am in the Slug Club, yes. I’m not sure if I’m top of my class, I might be.” That’s a lie. He knows he is, but it’s not like there’s a whole lot of competition. It’d be different if he was in James’ year, with Evans, Snape, and Dorcas. Even James, Sirius, and Remus. They have a notoriously talented class.
Mrs. Potter hums again and the two of them go back to working in silence. Regulus gets lost in the cyclical motion of the chopping he’s doing. It allows him to zone out and not think as he does it. It’s nice, maybe even a bit relaxing. A gentle reprieve.
“James also told me,” Effie says, suddenly. Regulus looks up at her, pausing his chopping. He suddenly feels very nervous, being alone with Mrs. Potter like this. “That you two are paired together for prefect rounds. From what he made it sound like, the two of you spend quite a bit of time together.”
“Oh,” Regulus feels his face heat up. This isn’t what he was expecting. “That’s true, I suppose. We do spend quite a bit of time together.”
Effie smiles, genuinely. Regulus can feel the warmth of it. “That’s lovely, Regulus. He’s very fond of you, you know.”
Regulus wants the ground to swallow him whole. He knows that he’s as red as he possibly can be. He knows he’s giving it all away. He knows that Mrs. Potter wants to know. Maybe that’s why he isn’t Occluding. Maybe he just wants to tell her.
“I’m very fond of James, too,” Regulus responds. He meets her gaze and holds it. He probably looks ridiculous— red-faced and wearing a paisley apron of Effie’s over his robes, but it feels important that she knows. That he proves himself to her. Not just in this moment, but later, when people think Regulus is something he isn’t.
She smiles again, but this time, Regulus thinks, her eyes look a little bit sad. She reaches out toward him and pushes his curls off his forehead. “I know, darling. I know.”
—
Lupin is polishing china in one of the Potter’s spare rooms. Regulus is finished chopping, so Mrs. Potter sent him to find the boys and help whoever needs it. Remus is the first person he found.
He’s very clearly enthralled in what he’s doing, Regulus observes. He hasn’t heard Regulus come into the room or noticed him watching him.
“Have you spoken to Sirius?” Regulus asks. His voice echoes through the mostly empty ballroom.
Remus jumps, slightly. “Jesus, Regulus. Can you start announcing yourself or something? Knock on the door? Say hello?”
Regulus shrugs and walks further into the room. He pulls out his wand and conjures a chair. Technically, he’s not allowed to use magic outside of school yet, but he knows from experience that underage wizards can’t really be tracked when in a magical home or area. He sits down across from Lupin. Stares at him expectantly.
Lupin stares right back, arching a brow. Regulus wonders if he always did that, or if he picked it up from Sirius. That’s where Regulus picked it up. Mimicking his big brother.
“Well?” Regulus questions.
Remus sighs. “Not yet. I mean, we’ve spoken over break, but not about… all of that. It feels more like we’re pretending nothing happened. As if everything’s just the way it was before.”
Regulus makes a noise of disapproval. “Is that what you think the solution is?”
“I—,” Remus furrows his brow and pulls at a stray thread on the wrist of his jumper. “No, I don’t. It is easier though.”
“Easier now,” Regulus corrects. “Not in the long run. If you don’t talk about it, it’ll come back to bite you in the arse one day. Whether it’s an argument or a drunken kiss, or something else. The truth always comes out.”
Remus stares at him, face unmoving. Finally, he shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re giving me advice about this. I can’t believe you’re even here. That we’re having this conversation at all. It’s mad.”
“It’s something,” Regulus admits. He leans back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling. There’s a mural of the sky on it.
“Are you going to stay?” Remus asks. His voice is— restrained. Regulus looks at him, curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Remus murmurs, looking away. “Are you going to stay with Potter’s? With James and Sirius? Or is this just— a vacation for you?”
“Are you asking if I’m going to go back to Grimmauld Place?” Regulus asks, tilting his head at Lupin. He feigns nonchalance. “Or if I’m going to become a Death Eater?”
“Both.”
Regulus takes a moment to consider. Surprisingly, he rather likes Lupin. He’d prefer if he didn’t think he was some maniacal bigot.
Maybe he should tell him the truth.
The issue with that, though, is that the number of people who know already feels too high. Seven people. Sirius, James, Evan, Barty, Dorcas, Pandora, and Dumbledore. The key to being successful with all of this is secrecy. He’s already worried about his friends’ ability to hide the secret if captured or confronted. He needs to do something about that, actually. His safety and their own rely on this being kept a secret.
“I’m not sure,” Regulus tells Remus eventually. He knows it’s going to upset him. So be it.
As if on cue with Regulus’ thoughts, the other boy’s face darkens. “And do Sirius and James know that?”
Regulus crosses his arms and leans back again. “In a sense.”
“In a sense,” Remus repeats. He scoffs. “You’re bloody unbelievable, Regulus.”
“I said I’m not sure,” Regulus arches a brow. Now that he’s said that to Lupin, he’s not sure he's okay with Remus seeing him that way. “Not that I’m planning on it. My parents still have custody of me, you know that right? I might not have a choice.”
“Sirius had a choice,” Remus growls. “He made the right one. You can too.”
“Sirius was able to leave because I was left behind to clean up his mess,” Regulus hisses back at him, losing his patience. “Do you think he ever could have left if that wasn’t the case? They bred me for this exact situation, Lupin. The heir and the spare. That’s what I am, or was. The spare . Sirius never would have gotten out if I hadn’t been the option. There’s no spare for me. My parents will not allow me to go free so easily.”
Lupin blanches and opens his mouth to speak, but Regulus shakes his head and holds up a hand to silence him. He’s not going to keep arguing about this. He needs to enjoy the rest of his break.
“Happy Christmas, Lupin,” Regulus says, walking out of the room. He doesn’t go to help James or Sirius. He walks straight down the hall and up the stairs, quietly closing the door to his bedroom behind him.
—
By the time Regulus emerges from his room, it’s 7:30. No one came to fetch him in the hours he spent holed up in his room, so he assumes everything got finished for the party.
“Oh, there you are, love,” Effie smiles, once he comes down the stairs. “Remus told us you were feeling peaky and went to have a nap. Are you feeling better?”
Regulus looks at Mrs. Potter before sliding his gaze to Lupin, who’s sandwiched between James and Sirius and avoiding his eye. “Yes, I feel much better now. I think I was just tired.”
She laughs. It’s a pleasant sound. “I’m not too surprised. You boys haven’t stopped for a minute since you got here.”
Regulus smiles at her and gives her a small nod. She gives him a once-over. “I love those dress robes, Regulus. They bring out your eyes.”
Regulus glances down at what he’s wearing. The robes are custom, again. He doesn’t think it matters at this point, so he went ahead and ordered a new pair using money from his family vault. Just as the last time, there were no issues.
The robes are quite nice. They’re a slate grey colour with intricate, silver stitching. Compared to the dress robes James, Sirius, and Remus are wearing, they’re unique. The other boys are in traditional, black dress robes.
“Thank you, Mrs. Potter,” He murmurs, shyly. “I got them for the party.”
“Well, they’re lovely,” She smiles. “And, one day, I’ll get you to call me Effie. If Monty could do it, I know that I can as well.”
Regulus laughs, quietly, and listens as Mrs. Potter gives them their instructions for the party. The four of them are to wait in the drawing room where the Floo is, so they can greet the guests as they arrive. Her only other request is that they do their best to not cause too much mischief.
As they walk towards the drawing room to wait, James comes up behind Regulus and whispers in his ear. “Like my mum said, your robes are lovely, but if you ask me, you’re even better.”
Regulus glances back at him, a helpless smile spreading over his face. He’s sure that the high points of his cheeks are tinged pink. “You look nice, too.”
James grins and brushes his hand against his. James’ pinky finger ever so slightly curls around Regulus’ — a subtle, physical reminder that he’s there for him.
—
Regulus already knew that the Potter Christmas party would be unlike his family’s, but this is something else entirely. Everyone is so— merry, for lack of a better word. The people in attendance seem genuinely pleased to be there and they chat happily, milling about as they recognize their friends and family amongst the crowd. People are eating and drinking and Christmas music plays faintly above the chatter of the room. There are no stuffy conversations or four-course meals. No toasts to dark forces and pureblood lineages.
Regulus doesn’t know most of the people here. Friends of the Potters are not friends of the Blacks. However, he recognizes some of them, whether it be from the Daily Prophet, Chocolate Frog Cards, or whatever else. They’ve all been kind to him, but it hasn’t escaped Regulus the way people’s eyes widen slightly when they realize who he is, or how a few guests have been whispering and watching him.
He doesn’t like it, necessarily, but he doesn’t let it bother him. He’s used to the attention and gossip. This is nothing new.
Peter arrived about fifteen minutes after the party started and he and the other boys have been catching up. Break only started days ago, but the four of them act as if they’ve been apart for ages. It’s a bit annoying, but it’s also nice. It comforts Regulus, to see that James and Sirius have people who care about them so much.
Regulus is leaning against the wall and sipping a cup of Mulled Wine that he snuck as he surveys the crowd. He’s still scanning the crowd when someone taps his shoulder.
“You are Regulus Black, no?” The girl asks him. She’s about his age, if he had to guess, and has a French accent and silver-blonde hair. Regulus wonders, vaguely, if she’s related to Pandora somehow.
“I am,” Regulus responds, straightening his back and raising his chin. He offers his hand. “And you are?”
“Apolline Beaufort,” The girl, who is apparently named Appolline, tells him. She smiles brightly. If Regulus was attracted to women in any way, he’d probably take a liking to her. She’s beautiful. Almost unnaturally so.
“Nice to meet you, Apolline,” Regulus raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. A traditional, pureblood greeting for women. He hates doing it, usually. He’s not really sure why he just did that.
“Enchanté,” She replies, still smiling. Regulus notices that her eyes are a striking shade of violet. “Tu parle Français?”
“Oui,” Regulus dips his chin. “Préféreriez-vous parler Français?”
Apolline nods. She traces a finger down the front of his robes. “Veux-tu danser avec moi?”
Regulus does not know what compels him to do so, but he sets his drink down and wordlessly takes her hand, leading her to the dance floor.
There’s a waltz playing now and Regulus has known the steps to the dance since he could walk. The two of them glide across the dance floor, unspeaking. Apolline is visibly pleased with him, her cheeks flushing prettily, like she’s glowing. As they dance, others seem to gather to watch. Distantly, Regulus thinks that they must look quite nice together. They’re both beautiful.
Then, as he turns her, he sees James watching. His brows are slightly furrowed. He doesn’t look upset, rather he looks amused. So does Lupin. Next to him, Peter and Sirius are laughing. Regulus pulls himself out of a fog he didn’t realize he was in. What the fuck is he doing?
“I have to go,” Regulus tells Apolline, hastily. “I’m sorry.”
She looks rather angry, her frown marring the effortless beauty of her face. Regulus drops her hand mid-dance and leaves the dance floor.
“Oh, Merlin,” Sirius laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. “Oh, Reggie, that was too good.”
“What the fuck was that?” Regulus hisses, looking between the four boys. “Who the bloody hell is that?”
Sirius is still laughing when he responds. “That’s Apolline Beaufort. Her family is friends with the Potters.”
“Okay?” Regulus says, annoyed. “The question remains: what the fuck was that?”
“Her mother is a Veela,” James fills in. He shoots Regulus an apologetic smile.
“What?” Regulus yelps. “A Veela?!”
“Yup,” Sirius nods, bouncing back and forth on his heels. He’s still got a stupid grin on his face. “Pete, why don’t you get old Reggie boy another drink? He needs one after that.”
Regulus doesn’t miss the annoyed look that Peter gives Sirius, but he obeys. Leaving the four of them alone.
“A Veela?!” Regulus repeats. “I just got seduced by a Veela?! How is that even possible? I mean— I’m gay.”
For some reason, that catches Sirius off guard, who laughs so hard he spits mulled wine. Even Remus cracks a smile, rubbing his neck.
“Well, seduced is a strong word for that, I think. And she’s only half Veela, but either way, even gay men are susceptible to a Veela’s charms,” James laughs, his eyes twinkling. “It’s not about attraction. It’s an enchantment.”
“Don’t feel too bad about it, Regulus,” Lupin says. Regulus turns quickly to look at him. It’s the first they’ve spoken since this afternoon. “It happened to Sirius, too. Just last year, I might add.”
“Oh,” James chortles. “That was too good. She had him speaking French and everything. I mean, I didn’t even know French could sound that—”
“Dirty?” Remus supplies.
“Sexy?” Sirius offers, barking a laugh.
“She had me speaking French, too,” Regulus mutters in horror. Merlin’s beard. New point to add to his list of fears for his assignment. Stay the hell away from Veelas.
Peter returns with Regulus’ drink then, and hands it to him without a word. Regulus nods in thanks and downs it, the boys still laughing.
—
“You want to get out of here?”
Regulus turns. James is standing next to him at the refreshment table.
“Where would we go?” Regulus asks, looking him up and down.
“Outside,” James smiles. “I want to show you something.”
Regulus pretends like he’s considering before he answers. “Yeah,” he nods. “Okay.”
The two of them slip out of the party without notice. Once they’re in the darkness of the back garden, James slips his hand into Regulus’ and leads him further out. After a few minutes, they stop. The Potters have an amazing garden. It’s large and goes on for ages.
“ Accio broomstick,” James mutters, brandishing his wand.
“We’re flying?” Regulus arches a brow. “In dress robes?”
James laughs, easily. “Just for a little bit. You can take off your outer robes, if you want. Might get chilly, though.”
“Once again,” Regulus smirks, tilting his head at James. It reminds him of a night not too long ago, out by the lake at school. “I’m wondering if you forgot that you’re a wizard? Warming spell, maybe?”
James rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You’ll never let me live that one down, will you? Anyway, get on. The others will notice if we’re gone too long and I’d rather not be interrupted.”
James settles onto the front of the broom and Regulus saddles up behind him. He wraps his arms around James’ waist. “If you drop me I’ll kill you.”
James just shakes his head, huffs a laugh, and kicks off into the air with practiced grace. He takes them higher and higher until they reach the tops of the Quidditch hoops in the garden. They’re decorated for Christmas, wrapped in sparkling pine garland and twinkling lights. There are small golden snitches dusted in snow darting around the needles of the pine. It’s a gorgeous Christmas decoration, especially considering it’s sports equipment. Regulus buries his face in James' neck to hide his delight.
“Do you like it?” James asks, looking over his shoulder at Regulus. “They weren’t going to do it this year, but I insisted. It’s tradition.”
Regulus nods, smiling into his robes. James grins at him and shifts suddenly, throwing both legs off the side of the broom so he’s facing outwards. He looks at Regulus for a moment, affection evident in his eyes. Then, he brandishes his wand and wordlessly casts a spell, waving his wand in a wide circle.
The small snitches that hover around the hoops assemble, flying slowly towards them. They hover over James and Regulus’ heads and begin to merge.
With wide eyes, Regulus watches as the snitches transform above him. The golden wings turn to dark green leaves and the bodies of the snitch seem to duplicate and shrink, forming small berries. Within moments, a mistletoe floats above their heads, tied with a metallic, gold bow. Snow falls lightly from it, dusting Regulus’ curls.
“Did you do that for me?” Regulus whispers, looking at James.
“Of course I did, Reg,” James smiles, biting his lip. He leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “Do you like it?”
“I—” Regulus’ throat is thick. He looks away from James and up at the mistletoe. He’s never had someone cast magic such beautiful magic for him before. “I love it.”
“Good,” James says. “That was my plan after all.”
Regulus looks back to James, blinking rapidly. He launches himself forward, wrapping his arms around James’ neck, and kisses him. Really kisses him.
“Woah,” James laughs against Regulus’ lips. “Be careful, you might be the one to drop me.”
“Shut up,” Regulus mutters, kissing him harder. “Shut up.”
James laughs, but he does shut up. The two of them stay like that for a while, hovering on a broomstick and kissing under an enchanted mistletoe. Just two teenagers in love, like there’s no war going on. Like the fate of the Wizarding World doesn’t rest on Regulus’ shoulders.
It’s not quite Christmas yet, but either way, this is the best one Regulus has ever had.
—
December 25th, 1976
When Regulus wakes up on Christmas morning, James is curled into his side and the house smells like warm vanilla.
He looks at James’ sleeping face. With his glasses off and his face relaxed, he looks so young. Sometimes, it’s easy for Regulus to forget that in a lot of ways, they’re still just children. Regulus sighs contentedly and brushes his hand against James’ cheek. His first, and potentially last, Christmas with James has just begun, but to Regulus, all that means is that it’s almost over.
“Are you watching me sleep?” James asks, his voice gravelly. He opens one eye and smiles, peeking at Regulus.
“Maybe,” Regulus says, quietly.
“Mm,” James hums. He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Regulus’ lips before stretching his arms above his head. “We should probably go downstairs. This is probably one of the few days Sirius or my mum might come looking for us.”
Regulus doesn’t want to go yet. “I think your mum knows.”
“About what?” James questions, he’s sat up at this point and is cleaning his glasses. He doesn’t look back at Regulus when he asks.
Regulus hesitates. “About us. You and me.”
Regulus waits for James to stiffen, or freak out, or just have some kind of anxious reaction, but he doesn’t. He laughs.
“Oh,” James places his glasses on his face. He turns back to Regulus, smiling dopily. “I’d reckon you’re right. I mention you whenever I write home and I think I’ve talked about you every time I’ve been alone with my parents this week.” He shrugs, looking a little bashful. “Sorry, Reg. I’ve never been one for subtlety.”
“You don’t mind that they know?”
“No,” James shakes his head. “Not at all. I’d like to just tell them, honestly, but I didn’t think you’d want me to. Do you want me to?”
“I’m not sure,” Regulus admits. He searches James’ face. “Is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” James squeezes Regulus’ hand. “Like I said, I’m pretty sure they know already. When mum gets nosy enough, she’ll ask. I’ll probably tell her then.”
“Okay,” Regulus squeezes his hand. He presses a kiss to James’ lips. Warm and soft, but firm at the same.
James doesn’t even attempt to hide the delight from his face as he stands up. “Let’s go downstairs, Reg. You need to open the gift I got you.”
—
Mrs. Potter ushers the two of them into the sitting room once they get downstairs, telling them that they’ll all take breakfast in there as they open presents.
When Regulus and James walk in, Sirius, Remus, and Monty are already there and chatting happily. In front of each of them, there’s a stack of presents.
“I went ahead and divided everyone’s gifts up while we waited for you boys,” Monty smiles. “I’ve put your things just next to Sirius’, Regulus. James, yours are next to Regulus.”
Regulus looks at James, trying to prove his earlier assumption. James raises his eyebrows and smiles. They know.
“Happy Christmas,” Sirius bellows, throwing an arm around Reg once he settles down. “You’ve got quite a stack there, Regulus.”
Regulus shrugs him off and looks at the pile of gifts in front of him before glancing at the others. Sirius is right, Regulus does seem to have a present or two more than the others. He desperately hopes it’s not because the Potters bought him more.
Effie shuffles back into the sitting room carrying a large tray of food. It’s ridiculous, Regulus thinks, how much food there is on it. There are Madeira cakes, gingerbread men, ham and cheese croissants, mince pies, cinnamon buns, kippers, toast, and several other things. Bea is trailing behind her and holding a tea set. She’s got a new tinsel crown on today, Regulus notices. It’s red and green.
“Here we are,” Effie says, happily. “We’ll just nibble as we go. Who wants to start?”
“I’ll go!” Sirius volunteers, ripping into a present at the top of his stack that’s quite small and wrapped in chrome paper. Regulus watches as Sirius unwraps it to reveal a small, velvet box. When he opens it, there’s a silver ring in it. Regulus leans closer, intrigued. “Who got you that?”
“James,” Sirius places a hand on his chest. “Are you finally proposing?”
“Oh, shove off,” James guffaws. Even Remus chuckles. Regulus does not.
“Who got you that?” He asks again.
“Er,” Sirius looks at the box, before grabbing the discarded paper and searching for the tag. When he reads it, he lets out a short breath. “Er, it’s from my— our Uncle Alphard.” Sirius looks around at everyone in the room. “He’s not like everybody else in my family. He’s not psychotic or anything like that.”
“Thanks,” Regulus mutters under his breath. Remus snorts from beside Sirius.
“Regulus,” James says, curiously. “It looks like you have the same gift. Just there.” He points to a small, chrome present that’s underneath a large red one.
Regulus looks at it in shock before turning to Sirius. A conversation passes between them, silently. Did you tell him to get me a gift? Sirius shakes his head. Hesitantly, Regulus reaches for the gift and carefully unwraps it. Like Sirius, it’s a small, velvet box that holds a silver ring.
“Are they just a silver rings?” Remus asks, craning his neck to see. “Maybe old family heirlooms?”
“No,” Regulus shakes his head. He feels his throat get tight. He can’t believe how emotional he is this break. Why are so many people being so bloody kind to him? “This doesn’t have the Black crest or motto. It has our constellations on it.”
Sirius is silent beside him, staring at his ring in the box. Clear as day, engraved into the ring and studded with tiny opals and moonstones is Canis Major, Leo, and Hydra. Each of the stars they’re named for is the brightest in their respective constellation. On the interior of the ring, the words toujours ensemble are etched into the metal.
“That’s beautiful,” Mrs. Potter says, gently.
Almost in sync, Regulus and Sirius nod. They look at each other briefly before placing the rings on. The room is silent.
Remus clears his throat. “I suppose I’ll go next.”
With that, everyone continues opening their gifts while Mr. and Mrs. Potter oh and ah over them or accept thank yous. Regulus is quite pleased with the gifts he’s received, but is also feeling a bit guilty. Dorcas, Barty, Evan, and even Lily Evans have sent him gifts. Nothing major, just sweets and mittens, but either way, Regulus feels guilty. He didn’t even think to send them anything with everything going on. He's not sure how long his friends will be satisfied by that excuse for things.
The Potters bought him a number of things, including a new cauldron and potion supplies set, as well as some Quidditch gear and books. It’s a more personalized Christmas than his parents ever gave him. All the gifts seem specifically tailored to the boys' interests, including more Quidditch supplies for James and Muggle music and books for Sirius and Remus.
“I can’t believe Evans sent you gloves too,” Sirius mutters, shaking his head. “It took me four years to get her to like me enough to do that. Have you even spoken to her?”
Regulus pinks. He doesn’t like that Sirius is pointing it out in front of everyone. “Not really.”
“Lily likes Regulus,” Remus says, casually. He’s loading his breakfast plate. At his comment, all three of the boys turn to look at him. Remus looks up, seemingly startled by them. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Remus rolls his eyes. “She thinks he’s smart and funny. That’s it.”
“Can you imagine if Lils fancied Regulus?” Sirius barks a laugh, falling back onto James. They’ve all spread out a bit now that they’re almost done with presents. “That would be fucking hilarious.”
“Language,” Mrs. Potter hums.
“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius murmurs. “But it would be funny, wouldn’t it?”
“Sure,” Regulus grumbles. “Hysterical.”
“Why would it be funny, Sirius?” Monty asks, a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh,” Sirius freezes. He looks between Regulus and James before glancing back at Mr. Potter.
“Regulus,” Remus interrupts. “You’ve got two gifts left. Who are they from?”
Regulus looks down at his pile. One box is medium-sized and wrapped in paper the color of Gryffindor. The other is small and wrapped in lavender paper with a silver ribbon.
“I can already tell that one,” Regulus points to the crimson and gold box, “Is from James.” He turns to James. “I can’t believe you survived, having me wait so long to open it.”
“I have more patience than you think,” James says, primly. Then, he grins. “Go on, open it!”
Regulus picks up the gift gingerly. James hasn’t opened Regulus’ gift either. He wishes there wasn’t an audience for all of this, but there’s nothing to be done about it. “Open mine, then.”
Together, James and Regulus open their gifts to each other. James is quicker though, tearing the paper off the box where Regulus carefully unwraps his.
“Oh, James,” Mrs. Potter breathes. “What a lovely gift.”
All six of them are looking at the gift Regulus gave James. In his hands is a crystal globe. In the globe, there’s a small Quidditch pitch and two miniature figures with dark hair zooming around, chasing a snitch and quaffle.
“Is that us?” James asks Regulus, his mouth hanging open.
“Yes,” Regulus murmurs. Everyone in the room is looking at him now.
“How’d you do that, Reg?” Sirius asks, his chin resting on James’ shoulder. “That’s wicked.”
“The figurines are so realistic,” Remus observes, impressed.
“An amazing bit of magic, that is,” Monty comments, smiling at Regulus.
James tears his gaze from the globe and looks at Regulus. “Thank you, Reg. I love it.” Regulus can hear the unspoken part of his thank you. Thank you, Reg. I love it. I love you.
“It’s nothing,” Regulus murmurs, embarrassed. “I’ll just open yours then, I guess.”
He opens the box that holds his gift from James. It holds two things. A mirror and another long, thin box. He looks at James questioningly. Sirius is smiling next to him.
“Go on,” James urges, nodding and smiling. “Open the other box.”
Regulus lifts the lid off the second box and can’t help the small gasp that leaves his mouth. It’s a potioneers knife, but it’s not just a plain, steel one. The blade is sharp and silver and has various stars, constellations, and comets etched into it. The hilt is wrapped with dark leather and studded with a single, large opal.
“I suppose Alphard and I had the same idea,” James laughs, nervously running a hand through his hair. “With the opals and constellations. The knife is goblin-wrought, though. Dunno if the ring is.”
“I—,” Regulus opens his mouth and closes it. “It’s beautiful, James. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” James says, softly. He nudges Regulus’ knee with his own.
“In case you were wondering,” Sirius interjects, haughtily. “The other gift in there was my idea. Are you going to acknowledge it?”
Regulus looks back down at the box and the mirror inside of it. He picks it up and arches a brow at Sirius. “Is this some kind of joke about how you’re the better looking sibling and I need to check the mirror more often to be reminded?”
Everyone laughs at that, but Sirius shakes his head, grinning. “No, Reggie, that’s not it. James, tell him.”
“It’s a Potter heirloom, actually,” James explains to him. Sirius hands him an identical mirror and James holds it us to his face. “It’s a two-way mirror. Look into yours.”
Regulus holds up the mirror. He starts, seeing James look back at him. He looks between James and Sirius. “We can talk through this?”
“Yup,” Sirius smiles. “It’s untraceable too, right Monty?”
“It is,” Monty responds, although he doesn’t seem all that pleased. He’s smiling, but his eyes are tight. So are Mrs. Potter’s.
“Why would Regulus need that?” Remus asks, suspiciously. “He lives with you guys now and we all go to Hogwarts. James gave you that because you were at Grimmauld and couldn’t send letters.”
Regulus doesn’t respond. He knows why James and Sirius decided to give him this. He won’t tell them now, but he’ll never be able to use it. It’ll be far too dangerous for all of them.
“Well, he’s not in Gryffindor, is he?” Sirius rolls his eyes. “What if we want to get a late-night message to Reggie?”
“We can use it to call upon him for a prank,” James laughs. “Or maybe a run to the kitchens.”
Remus narrows his eyes and sets his mouth into a thin line, but he doesn’t push further.
“Thank you,” Regulus says again, looking between James and Sirius. “It’s very nice.”
“You’re welcome,” James and Sirius say in unison, before laughing at each other.
“Regulus,” Mrs. Potter says. “You’ve still got one more gift. It’s the last one out of all of us.”
He turns and looks down at the pale purple gift. He has a feeling he knows who it’s from. He doesn’t know if he wants to open it. Nonetheless, he grabs it, gingerly unties the ribbon, and removes the wrappings. He hesitates a moment before opening the box.
There’s a note, written in familiar, dainty cursive atop what looks to be a pocket watch.
I’m sorry, Regulus.
All I ever want to do is help you, but I know I won’t always be able to be with you.
This is me trying to solve that. It won’t always be useful, but I hope it will make things easier.
P. Malfoy x
Slowly, Regulus picks up the pocket watch and takes a sharp intake of breath as he feels the hum of its magic. It’s beautiful. And extremely powerful.
It’s silver, just like his ring and dagger, but the face of the watch is made of dark abalone. Deep blues and greens like the sea. Carved into the abalone are several Norse runes instead of numbers or lines. Regulus can recognize them from his studies. There are seven runes instead of twelve like a traditional pocket watch.
Where the twelfth mark should be is the rune Sowilo, the sun. It represents victory and wholeness. The other runes include Ehwaz: progress, Uruz: strength, Hagalaz: wrath, Laguz: intuition, Algiz: collaboration and protection, and Eihwaz: death.
Regulus stares down at the watch and can hear his heart pounding in his ears.
“What is it?” Sirius leans over to inspect it. James does as well, his brow furrowed.
Regulus swallows and pockets Pandora’s gift. He smiles tightly at Sirius. “Just a pocket watch. It’s from Pandora. She knows I like to be on time.”