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The snow drifts reached almost up to the knees of Regulus Black as he struggled to keep up with his older sibling on the poorly kept cobbles of Nocturn Alley.
Christmas shopping with the Carrows were a tradition designed by their mother and father to get the two Black children out of Grimauld Place to allow Kreacher to decorate the place to Walburga's preferences. The place would look beautiful when they returned later that afternoon, Regulus knew. It would be filled with garlands of holly and evergreens, ribbons and candles; a Christmas tree, hung with candy canes, beaded peacocks made with real feathers and strings of pearls. There would be presents under the tree - books, fine robes, maybe toys, and cards with brand new galleons spellotaped to the insides.
Regulus was snapped out of his thoughts of hot butterbeer and tinsel when his winter boot slipped on a wet patch of snow, whipping it out from underneath him and sending him headlong into the snowy street. The cold and wet of it, the sudden immersion, shocked him, and he cried out for his sibling.
"Siri!"
Sirius Black was walking a few paces behind the two Carrow youths - twin sister and brother, Alecto and Amycus - their hands shoved deep into the pockets of their winter cloak, and their hat pulled down over their forehead in a bid to hide their mullet of a haircut, as well as a yellowing bruise above their left eye.
All three stopped and turned around to find Regulus sprawled out in the muddy snow-slush, covered head to toe in the freezing slurry. The Carrows giggled gleefully into their mittens as Sirius turned on their heel and marched back to pull the boy up by his wet sleeve, his bottom lip quivering, bare hands turning red with cold.
"You are in trouble now, little Reggie," cackled Alecto.
"Walburga is going to whip you for messing up your robes," Amycus agreed.
Regulus' eyes went wide with fear, as he stared at the two, then at Sirius, who was doing their best trying to brush the snow and dirt off the front of their brother's wet robes.
He looked so scared, and it hit Sirius like a bludger to the heart.
They had already cried themselves to sleep together in Sirius' bed four days ago.
That afternoon they had played hide and go seek, when Regulus had broken a crystal cup while climbing into a cabinet to hide, in the formal reception room. Sirius had taken the blame, and the punishment, but Regulus had cried the hardest. Sirius hadn't even bothered to put dittany, or even ice, on their eye, instead they had taken their little brother straight to their bed, where they held him while he cried until he fell asleep.
Then they themself had cried, in silence, gently stroking their little brother's hair, until they too fell asleep.
Now they crouched down and placed both hands on Regulus' shoulders, locking eyes.
"Reg, look at me, no she is not, don't worry about it, come on."
They swivelled on their heels, gesturing for the boy to climb on their back, and he obeyed, stifling a sob, as he wrapped his arms around his older sibling's neck. Sirius in turn wrapped their arms around each of his legs, and pushed themself up, stumbling once, twice, before finding their balance, and kept heading up the street towards Diagon Alley.
The two Carrows let them catch up to them, then fell into step on either side of them.
"Where are we going?" Amycus asked.
"To the Leaky Cauldron."
"What good is that going to do?" Alecto inquired.
Hiking the sniffling Regulus up higher on their back, Sirius sighed.
"Get warm and dry, for one. You coming?"
"It's 'are you coming', for one ," Amycus muttered under his breath, but shuffled, albeit grumpily, after the Black siblings together with his sister.
***
The windows at the Leaky Cauldron were fogged up with the condensation from dozens of wet winter cloaks drying on warming bodies in the heat of the blazing fireplace, filling the air with the smell of wet wool and leather, as well as mulled wine and roast. It was crowded with Christmas shoppers and their bulging bags, their squawking owls and babbling children. Goblins and wizards alike were huddled around tables full of pints and pub-grub, illuminated by lamps and Christmas lights alike.
The four children pushed their way towards the bar, where Tom, the landlord, was chatting away with his patrons.
Sirius put Regulus down on an unoccupied barstool and looked around for a familiar face, any familiar face would do, at this point. Fortunately, Merlin must have been smiling down upon them, because just then they spotted a face they would recognise anywhere; across the bar, a tall bespectacled wizard raised his hand to flag down Tom in the hustle and bustle, tufts of his dark, thick hair sticking up in all directions after having worn a hat all morning. Fleamont Potter's likeness to his son was uncanny - or his son's likeness to him was, Sirius supposed they should say - except for James's dark complexion and the bend in his nose, which he had clearly inherited from his mother.
Sirius had always liked the elder Potters, and right now they were happier than ever to see them. Heaving themself up on the bar, leveraged on straight arms and leaning in past the other patrons, they called out:
"Mr Potter! Mr Potter, sir!"
Fleamont scanned the bar until his eyes met Sirius'. Immediately his face lit up, and he waved, before turning around to talk to someone else over his shoulder. When he turned back around he gestured for Sirius to come over, pointing to indicate that corner of the bar, where, presumably, there was a table.
Sirius hopped back down onto the sticky floorboards and helped their brother off the barstool, turning to the Carrow twins:
"You coming?"
Alecto and Amycus crossed their arms in perfect unison.
"You know," Alecto started, "those no-good blood traitors you call friends are making you common, you can tell from the way you speak."
"No wonder your parents are ashamed of you," Amycus continued, "socialising with half-bloods and mudbloods, acting like a poofter…"
"Watch it, Carrow!" Sirius bit back, "the Potters are part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, just like you and I."
"So are the Prewetts."
"And the McKinnons."
"And the Weasleys."
"That doesn't stop them from being blood traitors."
"They are blood traitors, Lupin is a half-blood and Evans is a mudblood."
Stepping in front of Regulus, putting themself between him and the Carrows, and angling him away from the two blondes, Sirius leaned in and hissed through their teeth:
"Look, you blast-ended skanks, you want to talk about blood? Snivellus Snape is a half-blood too, you don't seem to mind his greasy beak up your arse eight days a week. And keep my friends' names out of your mouths if you know what's best for you."
The superior grin on the twins' faces did not falter as they gave each other a smug look, unfazed by both the name they'd been called, and the threat levelled against them.
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about Severus Snape," Alecto smirked. "What he lacks in blood-status, he makes up for in other ways, just ask Mulciber next time you see him."
"And as for your little friends, us talking about them will be the least of their problems, before long," Amycus added, the same malevolent mirth playing across his face. "So get your act together, Black, and do it quickly, if you know what is best for you ."
The three stared each other down for a moment, neither of them willing to concede, to break away first.
But their face-off was settled for them by the arrival of Fleamont Potter, who had made his way through the crowd when Sirius failed to appear at their table. All four children flinched at the sudden voice from above them:
"Sirius, where ever did you go?" Then, "Gosh, there are more of you! Hello there, Carrow, I presume?" He held out his hand to the two, and to Sirius surprise, and, frankly, amusement, they both took it. They bowed and curtsied, mumbling greetings and wishes for a happy Christmas, before excusing themselves, and disappearing into the crowded tavern.
Fleamont watched them leave, somewhat perplexed, then turned to Sirius, and the now shivering Regulus standing beside them, holding onto their arm.
"Are they not joining us?" He asked, but upon seeing the state of the younger Black's robes he seemed to forget about them instantly.
"Oh dear, what in Merlin's beard has happened to you, young man?"
***
At a cosy table near the far corner of the Leaky Cauldron, with a bench seat against the wall, Euphemia Potter and her son, James, welcomed the addition of the two siblings. In fact, they had already bought a round of hot butterbeer, which was now sitting on their table, waiting as well.
"We seem to be in need of some clean-up," Fleamont announced, gesturing to the youngest of them.
It was then that Regulus finally started to cry, turning to bury his mucky face in Sirius' scarf.
" Mama is going to flay us!" Came a muffled whimper.
Euphemia was on her feet immediately, putting her arm around Regulus' shoulders and steering him towards their table.
" Oh pyaare ! Oh , bachche , roo mat … Roo mat ..." And with a wave of her wand she had cleaned him up; with another, dried his robes, and with a third, done the same for Sirius, who was indeed quite wet and dirty themself after carrying their little brother.
Soon, the three Hogwarts students were sitting on the bench seat, Regulus fitting comfortably between his sibling and their friend, sipping their butterbeer and chatting happily.
He was ashamed about having cried in front of the Potters, Sirius knew.
Despite being favoured by their parents, Regulus felt the oppressive terror as much as Sirius did, but whereas Sirius pushed back, Regulus buckled. He both looked and acted younger than he was. After all, there were only two years between them, but, as Sirius had had to grow up fast to protect their brother, Regulus had become somewhat stunted.
But sitting in-between themself and James in the warm glow of the decorated tavern, he seemed to come to life; chatting animatedly, cheeks rosy, smile wide, eyes bright. James, too, seemed to enjoy himself. He didn't treat Regulus like a little child, he talked to him like an equal, more so, even, than Sirius did.
If they could just stay like this forever - warm, content, safe, happy…
"So, boys, when are you meeting up with your mother and father?" Euphemia asked, shattering their dreamy pondering at once.
Their mother and father. They had lost the Carrows a long time ago, finding them now would be hopeless, if they were even still in Diagon Alley.
They were meant to Floo home from Borgin and Burke's at five o'clock, no earlier, no later. As long as Alecto and Amycus didn't tattle to their parents, maybe they would get away with it…
It certainly was a good sign that neither Walburga or Orion had yet shown up to flog them right then and there, that meant that the Carrows had not, yet at least, told their parents of their exchange, and subsequent departure.
But now Sirius' blood ran cold.
"What time is it?"
Fleamont reached into his robes and took out an ornate pocket watch.
"Five ten," he declared. "Have you finished your Christmas shopping? If not, you have less than an hour before things close around here."
"SHI--!" Shooting out of their seat with such force that they rattled the tabel Sirius clapped both hands over their mouth to stop themself from swearing. "Reggie, we've got to go, grab your cloak, now !" They turned towards the bar, "Tom, Floo powder, now, please !"
Regulus flew out of his seat, swinging his cloak over his shoulders in the process and practically leaping towards the fireplace while Sirius rushed to the bar, flanked by James, ready to help if he could.
"Hey, hey, hey! Lads, what's going on?" Fleamont stood up, gesturing, with the palms of his hands facing the floor, for the frantic teenagers to calm down.
"We're late, Sir, and we'll be in trouble if we don't hurry home," Regulus explained, with only a fraction of vibrato in his voice, hopping from one foot to the other in front of the fire.
Before any of the elder Potters could get another word in, the older boys pushed past the table with a clatter of chair legs and winter boots on the floorboards.
James pushed a handful of Floo powder into Regulus' hands and gave the boy a one-armed hug, then he hugged Sirius and wished them good luck.
With that, the Black siblings turned to the roaring flames, threw the Floo powder down, took each other's hands and stepped into the fireplace, calling out:
"12 Grimauld Place!"
And with a rush of green sparks they were gone.
***
The countryside outside of Woking was much colder than the city of London. Here, the snow lay mostly undisturbed over the fields and hills, save for the tracks and trails of creatures great and small that crisscrossed the land.
It was dark now, the sky thick with snow-heavy clouds, only illuminated in parts of the horizon by the yellowish light from the cities beyond. Occasionally there were twinkles of light from neighbouring farms and cottages, appearing as mere fairy lights in the distance, from where Euphemia was standing, by the tall front room windows.
She was holding a large cup of tea with both hands, watching how the strands of steam rising from it condensed on the cold glas, when movement in the reflection of the sparsely lit room caught her eye and made her turn around.
Her son was standing in the door, a deep furrow between his brows.
" Pyaare bachche , what's on your mind?"
Smiling warmly, she held out her hand towards the boy, beckoning him to come to her.
He obeyed, letting his mother put her arm around him as he joined her by the window. She continued:
"Are you worried about your friends?"
James made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat by way of an answer, so Euphemia continued:
"They are nice boys. Are their parents… nice, as well?"
"You know of the Black family…" James supplied.
His mother sighed loudly and turned to face him, pinning him with that knowing look only mothers learn to perfect.
"James, main ek bevakooph nahin hoon , I saw the bruise on Sirius' face, and I know fear when I see it, and those boys were terrified. Mujhe batao , are their parents hurting them?"
"Mom, you can't tell anyone!"
"That's a 'yes', then?"
"They don't hurt Reggie, but they can get very angry, Sirius takes the brunt of it, but please don't get involved, it'll just make it worse."
" Bhagavāna , James, that's not right!"
"I know , mom!"
They were raising their voices now, and the escalating commotion finally reached the ears of Fleamont, who appeared in the door, with a tray of mulled cider and bakewell tarts, now demanding to know what on earth they were fighting about.
"Darling, you know what these old English pureblood families are like, we might indeed make it worse by interfering," he admitted, once the others had filled him in on their discussion.
He set the tray down on the side table between the armchairs, taking a seat, as well as a glass mug of cider, stirring it slowly with a cinnamon stick.
"Sirius is a good lad, and his little brother is a delight, and so polite, but I know Walburga and Orion, and I think James is right - upsetting this particular apple cart may have repercussions beyond that of the safety of the two Black brothers. Honey, please."
Euphemia was rubbing her forehead above the eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, pacing up and down in front of the fireplace and muttering under her breath in Hindi.
However, upon seeing the look on her husband's gentle face, she sighed with resignation, and returned his loving look.
He held out a mug of cider towards her, and she took it, taking a seat herself in the second armchair and taking a sip of the warm, fruity potion.
"Fine," she gave Fleamont a sideways glance over the rim of her mug, "but we're extending a standing invitation to both of those boys. They can visit any time, without prior notice."
"With permission from their parents," countered Fleamont, raising his cider, index finger extended, to make his point.
"And they can stay the night," added Euphemia.
The two Potters smiled at each other, and both raised their mugs in agreement.
Fleamont turned to James, who had been sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace with his own mug of cider, watching his parents talk for the last half hour, thinking in silence.
"Jamie, my lad, will you write to Sirius in the morning, please, and let him know?"
"Sure," the boy nodded, and after a beat of hesitation he added: "But there's something you probably should know…"
His parents exchanged a look, both furrowing their brows as they turned back towards him to let him continue.
James took a deep breath, he wasn't sure how to explain this to his ageing parents, but if they were to offer Sirius a safe place where they could take refuge, then he wanted to make sure that the Potter estate was just that - safe - so he pressed on:
"Mom. Dad. Sirius is not a boy, or a girl…"
***
Lyall and Hope Lupin had built their little house themselves about eight years ago, deliberately off the beaten path, in the Welsh countryside.
It was quiet, save for the birds, chirping in the garden around the birdfeeder, and the occasional motor vehicle passing on the distant highway.
Remus pulled the duvet off his head, hair in an impressive disarray even for him, to find himself bathed in the golden light of a sunbeam, the dust in the air glittering around him like a strange and unfamiliar spell. It had pierced through his dream, where he had been on the Hogwarts Express with his friends, just as it sped out of a tunnel into the bright September sunshine. In the dream he had been asleep in his seat while his friends were all laughing and talking around him, and much like right now in his bed, the sun had woke him up as it suddenly shone in his face. Just before he woke, he saw, in the seat across from his dream-self, Sirius laughing at something one of the others had said. Their hair was long, past their ears again, and pulled back from their face with clips. They turned towards him, still smiling brightly, and said something…
Remus wasn't sure whether he'd just not heard what they'd said, or if he'd woken up before they said it, but whatever it was, it was gone, and the rest of the dream was fading fast.
Somewhere downstairs he could hear his mother moving around, and the faint sound of Christmas songs on the radio.
He flopped onto his back on the bed with a sigh. They always let him sleep in, in the days after the Moon, but, given the Sun's position in the sky, it must be more than time to get up. He closed his eyes again and tried to recall dream-Sirius' face. He wondered if their hair really would have grown out that much over the winter break, and if they would really look that happy and healthy in a week's time when they'd all meet up on Platform 9¾. Their many letters, notes and cards hadn't suggested any further spontaneous make-overs at the hands of Mrs Black, but given her famously unpredictable temper, that could still change in a week.
He wondered how many letters Marlene had received. Had they been writing sickly sweet love letters to each other every day?
Remus groaned and threw his duvet off the bed, giving it a kick as he used the momentum to lever himself up into sitting on the bedside.
It was cool in the room despite the bright sunlight, and he slipped a pair of long woolly socks on before sticking his feet into the threadbare slippers by his bed. Before he left his room he also pulled a too-big jumper over his head on top of his pyjamas to lock in some of the warmth from his bed
James would have gotten letters from Sirius every day, they were inseparable, more like twins than friends, but he'd never reflected over the frequency of their correspondence like he now did with regards to Marlene, and it bothered him. He'd always considered her a good friend, but the last couple of months he found himself irrationally annoyed by the mere mention of her.
Once again, he was being unfair, and he didn't like this side of himself. It added another layer to the shame he already felt. So he bypassed the bathroom, with its mirror, and went straight downstairs.
Hope looked up from her papers, when he walked into the kitchen, and smiled.
"Morning , cariad , ffansi paned ?"
"Please," he smiled back at her, but immediately flinched and sucked a breath in through his teeth.
A fresh, deep slash trailed down the side of his neck, under his ear from his cheek. Instinctively, he raised his hand to touch the burning cut. It was going to scar, he was sure of it. Another reason to avoid the bathroom mirror.
His mother made a sound of sympathetic pity, leaving the kettle on the cooker to take his hand off his face, but he ducked out of her reach.
"Let me look, del," she scolded, but he pushed her hand away when she tried again to reach for him.
"It's fine, mum, leave it."
Hope looked unconvinced, perhaps even hurt by his rejection, but she sighed in resignation and appeared to let it go, at least for now. Instead, she poured a large mug of tea and placed it on the table for Remus.
While he sat, she topped up her own mug and fetched a bottle of milk from the fridge.
"Did you sleep well?" Hope tried again.
"Yes, thank you," Remus felt guilty for not letting his mother tend to his wounds, but on balance, he felt like a burden for having inflicted them in the first place. There was no winning this internal battle he was fighting. He pressed on, hoping to talk about anything else but himself and how he was doing:
"What are you grading?"
Hope had taken a job as a muggle primary school teacher once he had started Hogwarts. Up until then, she had stayed home to look after him, leaving her husband to provide for the three of them with his ministerial research grant.
"Oh, I'm not grading, dear, these children are too young to be graded", she took a sip of her tea, "I'm just going over their report books for half-term".
Remus stared at her. Did she think that made sense to him?
"What?"
"Hm?" Hope looked back up from the thin notebook in which she was writing.
"Oh! The children write these letters to their teacher, and we write back to them." She picked her mug up with both hands, mirroring his own stance with her elbows resting on the table.
"We have books for the parents too, so that we can… talk to both parents and children, without the interruption of the other.
They aren't meant to read each other's letters, and we don't tell them what the other writes, unless there's a good reason for us to do so… it's to make sure everyone's… happy, I suppose you could say."
Remus thought about it for a moment, taking another slow sip of tea.
"Is that… normal? Do all muggle schools do that?"
"I honestly don't know, cariad , I've only ever worked at this one." She smiled, her open, honest face looked content.
Maybe he needn't worry about being a burden to his mother.
She seemed happy, now, that he was away from home, from her, most of the time.
Maybe once he was done with Hogwarts he'd finally move away for good. They could be happy, then, his parents; they could have a normal life at last, without him around.