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December 23rd, 1967
It was supposed to be the best Christmas ever.
There was snow, for starters. Sirius and Regulus were spending their days waking up early, barely able to contain their excitement and impatiently wolfing down a mandatory breakfast before bursting outside into the wintry goodness, wrapped tightly in heavy cloaks and thick scarves.
They played war, building fortresses and trenches from the snow, launching snowballs at each other and laughing maniacally when they hit target. They made snowmen and went sledding, and when the day was dwindling and the shadows started to grow, when they fell down from elation or exhaustion — most likely both — they made snow angels, giggling quietly in the wake of the day.
When they were called inside — Mother ruffling a hand through damp hair and shaking her head fondly at the trail of wet patches they left behind on the floor — she ushered them into a hot bath and there would be bubbles as white as snow but warm as wool and they brought feeling back into numb fingers and toes and lips and cheeks that were flushed red and beaming.
Now it was right before bedtime, the two of them clad in fresh pyjamas and fuzzy slippers, yawning softly by the glow of the fire in the hearth. Grimmauld Place was decorated lavishly with holly and ivy, wreaths and garlands, and to top it all off, a Christmas tree so tall it reached all the way to the sitting room ceiling. There were presents underneath the tree, the pile growing larger and larger as the days sped closer to Christmas Morning. Sirius and Regulus entertained themselves fantasising about the secrets the brightly coloured wrappings held.
“What do you think is in this one?” Reggie asked eagerly, holding out a small package, wrapped in shiny silver paper decorated with a big green bow. Sirius took it and weighed it in his hand. It felt heavy, almost too heavy for the size of it, and his fingers tingled unpleasantly underneath its touch. The name tag was written in long, slanting cursive, the letters spilling out on the paper like a creek babbling graciously down a mountainside. Regulus Arcturus Black. Father’s handwriting. He threw a sympathetic glance at his brother’s hopeful face.
“Probably an heirloom,” Sirius said, almost reluctantly, the word rolling unsavoury over his tongue. “Lucky you.”
“Hmpf,” Reggie huffed in an eerie semblance of Mother, the look of displeasure on his face sharp enough to cut steel and make the bravest of soldiers curse their fealty to the wrong king.
It was in moments like these Sirius glanced down upon his brother and saw how big he could be. Large in everything in life except posture and looks. A quiet force to be reckoned with, like the violent burning on the surface of a dying star. Not quite his little brother anymore. Still, he swore to always watch over him.
“That one’s got Bella’s name on it,” Sirius gestured towards the largest box with a sour face. “Why does she always get the big ones?”
“It’s not fair,” Reggie nodded solemnly, “I want a big present too.”
A mischievous smile crept over Sirius’ face and his voice dropped an octave as he leaned in conspiratorially. “We could switch the name tags,” he said.
“We can’t do that,” Reggie whispered with eyes as wide as saucers flicking to the door and back. “They will notice!”
“No, they won’t,” Sirius scoffed, “there’s loads of them! No one cares about one missing present.”
“Sirius!” Reggie hissed as Sirius tore off the name tag of the smaller present. “You’re going to get us in trouble!”
“Stop whinging,” Sirius groaned. “You’re being a baby.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!” He expertly dodged Reggie’s arm trying to stop him from grabbing Bella’s present in a manner that rang only too familiar to the both of them. “Look, nothing’s going to happ— oh.”
Sirius stared at his brother, feeling all the blood drain from his face, a name tag in one hand and a length of torn wrapping paper in the other.
“What did you do?” Reggie squeaked, his expression matching Sirius’.
“N— nothing!” Sirius stammered, flailing his arms wildly. “It just ripped!”
“Put it back!”
“How?!”
“I don’t know, just fix it!”
“I’m trying!”
“Try harder!”
“What are you boys up to?” Mother’s voice drifted towards them and Sirius’ insides turned to ice at the sound of it, Reggie’s present clutched tightly in his fist while Bella’s lay at his feet, still ruined. Reggie stiffened next to him as if pinned to the floor by two heavy hands, completely frozen and guilt written over his face in big, bold letters.
“You haven’t been nosing through the presents, I hope?” Mother continued with a pointed look. She carried a serving tray and a mysterious smile on her lips. Four large mugs of piping hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.
“It was an accident!” Reggie blurted and Sirius groaned inwardly, elbowing his brother in the ribs — Reggie always the one to spill secrets like a river toppling over the edge of a waterfall, never needing much incentive to do so and rather taking the path of least resistance. “We didn’t mean to do it!”
“You two are too curious for your own good,” Mother sighed with a shake of her head. “Mark my words, one day you’ll be the death of me.”
She let them squirm a bit under her reproachful eyes, the boys shuffling their feet as they mumbled a quiet sorry, Mother.
“Alright then,” Mother said, the apples of her cheeks glowing brightly as her round face broke out into a warm smile. “Let’s see if we can fix this before your father gets home.”
She went to set the drinks on the coffee table but before taking more than three steps, she uttered a surprised gasp as the serving tray slipped from her grasp and the mugs clattered to the floor, leaving a chocolatey mess on the carpet. “Oh, how clumsy of me,” she muttered under her breath. She clutched her arm as if stung by a bee, stroking it absentmindedly.
“Mother?” Sirius asked carefully as the silence in the room was stretched so thin it became almost transparent and too much to bear.
Mother jerked her head in the direction of the sound, confusion in her eyes as if she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. She looked at her sons, then at the mess at her feet and back to the boys. “It’s alright,” Mother breathed. She clenched and unclenched her fist, blinking rapidly a few times. “It’s alright, Kreacher will clean this up and fix the presents.” There was a twitch to her jaw as she smiled all too widely.
Reggie looked at Sirius, who made a nonsensical sound in the back of his throat and shrugged his shoulders to hide the shiver creeping up his spine.
“I can do it, Mother,” Reggie said, stepping forward, “we don’t have to bother Kreacher.”
“I said leave it!” Mother snapped. The silence that followed her outburst lay thick and heavy in the air, neither of the boys sure of what to do or say. Reggie recoiled visibly and his bottom lip wobbled precariously. Sirius swallowed thickly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable not doing or saying anything at all.
“Walla?” Father appeared in the doorway, looking puzzled by the goings-on in the room. Concern laced his broad shoulders and tall stature, making the hairs on the back of Sirius’ neck stand upright. “What’s wrong?”
He brought a hand to her shoulder but she shook it off with a jerk. At the same time, the room started to fizzle and the heavy metallic twang of magic coursed through the air. A heartbeat later a loud bang, followed by a scream and a wail, filled the room as everything — tree, garlands, holly, presents, the room — exploded.
Sirius didn’t think, no room for anything in his head except the ringing between his ears, but a pull deep within his chest urged him to tackle Reggie to the floor, to shield him from the rubble flying through the air.
He held his breath, his heart hammering painfully in his chest, and waited — prayed — for all to become well again. When his lungs started to burn, when he finally took in a shaky gasp of air, he dared to glance up and Father was already there, helping them up and looking the both of them over. “Are you boys alright?”
Reggie was paler than ever, almost ghost-like, and sobbing quietly as he latched himself solidly to Sirius’ side. Outwardly, he seemed unharmed. No cuts, no bruises. Inwardly…
“We’re fine,” Sirius said, not completely able to hide the tremor in his voice. He glanced around Father at where Mother was lying motionless on the ground. Her black hair was splayed around her pale face like a halo of the night, her eyes closed and unseeing. “Why isn’t she getting up?” he demanded, a sense of dread settling in his stomach, “what happened to her?”
But Father was already herding the both of them out of the sitting room, blocking Sirius’ line of sight with his strong form and commanding presence. “Sirius, I need you to take your brother and go upstairs, to your room.”
“But Father, I—” he started but Father silenced him with a look that left no room for argument.
“Now, Sirius.”
And that’s how they found themselves huddled together under a pile of blankets in a dark bedroom; Reggie completely mute, his quiet sniffing the only sounds he produced, and Sirius, still clenching Reggie’s present tight in his fist, staring into nothingness, waiting for news, a rough awakening from their wintry haze.
Sirius had snuck downstairs a few times. He had seen the lime-green robes of the healers. Had seen Kreacher, pacing outside the sitting room door. At one point, he even thought he heard Grandfather Pollux’s muffled voice.
“I still got your present,” he told Reggie in an attempt to distract him, though he knew not even the greatest present would be large enough to fill the gaping hole ravaging his heart. “You can open it now if you’d like.” But Reggie said nothing so Sirius stroked his hair until he had cried himself to sleep.
It was in moments like these Sirius glanced down upon his brother and saw how small he could be. A vulnerable and ickle thing in maroon pyjamas littered with tiny reindeer, buried deep underneath a heavy blanket and the weight of the world. Still very much his little brother. He swore to always watch over him.
He fell asleep with those words on his mind and their presence lingered when a large hand on his shoulder roused him from his slumber. It was still dark, outside and in, but Sirius didn’t need to open his eyes to see the shattered pieces of what once was whole.
“Will Mother be alright?”
And Father looked him in the eye with the infinite knowledge of the universe shimmering in the blue of his irises and said, “I don’t know.”