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The first time Regulus stayed with the Potters, shortly after the summer began, he noticed them–sitting on the mantle of the big fireplace in the warm, comfortable, inviting sitting room, drawing the eyes as soon as he walked in–the holiday cards.
They were enchanting.
He didn’t say anything about them; he wasn’t sure what to say. All of the feelings of leaving his family behind, of basically starting over, had him overwhelmed, and he wasn’t sure why some simple pictures had him feeling so emotional. But every time he looked at them, he teared up. It was mortifying.
As he slowly adjusted to life at the Potters, he snuck looks over to the pictures. Took time to laze by himself in the sitting room and stare up at them, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. To process the strange yearning in his gut.
But he didn’t dare bring them up. Not until James did.
But as a July evening wound down and Sirius, Effie, and Monty all excused themselves to bed, Regulus again stood to look more closely. And as his eyes slid from one photograph to the next, that same melancholy amazement filled his chest. The same raw desire.
The cards were all undoubtedly cheesy, with holiday greetings obviously invented by underpaid employees who had no spirit. They had bright green, red, silver, and gold splashed across them, with little images of elves and Father Christmas, presents and snow. But they all held moving images of the Potters.
Dating back to before James was even born, the pictures lining the mantle were like a timeline, a mesmerizing look into James’s family. One, clearly from long ago, showed a beaming Effie and Monty clinging to a screaming toddler, a twinkling tree in the background. Another showed the three of them, James was probably about five, curled up on a big couch, all in matching outfits, all with arms around each other as they laughed and laughed.
A recent one included Sirius. Again, the four of them all wore matching jumpers, though James’s had a strange stain across the front, and James and Sirius playfully shoved at each other while Effie and Monty looked on lovingly.
Salazar, why did Regulus wish he was there, in that photo? Why did his heart ache when he watched that scene?
“They’re silly, I know,” James said from behind him, wrapping arms around him from behind and holding him close as he still gazed at the images. “You can blame me for the matching outfits. I thought it was a great idea when I was six, and my mum just…insisted on keeping the tradition going.”
Regulus chuckled. “I…my family never did cards. Not like this.” He felt his heart squeeze as he remembered stuffy Christmas dinners and itchy outfits. The joy that radiated from these photos had never been present at his holidays.
James didn’t respond right away. Rather, he gave Regulus a long, searching look, then asked. “What d’you mean, ‘not like this?'"
“We sent out yearly bulletins,” Regulus laughed humorlessly. “Updates on Sirius and I. Our accomplishments. A thinly-veiled way of bragging to others about how wonderful we were, I think. But…I don’t think we ever took a picture like this. Together… happy.”
The look on the older boy’s face was pained, and he opened and shut his mouth several times before he, himself, looked over to the cards, as if considering something.
“What?” Regulus asked softly.
But as quick as the look had come, it was gone, and James turned back to him with a smile. “Nothing, love,” He answered, pressing a kiss to Regulus’s head so softly that it made the younger boy’s heart flutter. “Come for a walk with me? I think your star’s out tonight.”
He smiled. “Alright.”
As they opened the back door, Sirius yelled down the stairs, “Be appropriate with my baby brother, Prongsie!” and Regulus sent a hex up towards him.
–
When Regulus went home (home? It was strange, yet comforting, to think of the Potters’ as home) to the Potters for the Holidays, he didn’t expect anything.
He didn’t expect the lung-crushing hug from Effie that made tears spring to his eyes…he’d never been given such a greeting off the Hogwarts Express before.
He didn’t expect the wonderful, lavish meal that included his, James’s, and Sirius’s favorites, followed by what James called ‘Family Game Night’ but what was really Fleamont and James losing spectacularly at cards. Usually, he was treated to a stiff, mostly-silent meal of whatever his mother fancied, then sent to bed.
He certainly didn’t expect the huge pile of gifts under the tree, only half of which were from a giddy, blushing James. The others, he soon found, were from Sirius, Effie, Monty, and his friends. He’d never felt so loved.
But what he didn’t expect most of all was the jumper he found on his bed when he went upstairs to change into something cozy for the evening–a jumper, he soon realized, everyone else would be wearing as well.
“Family picture!” Sirius screeched as he barreled down the stairs, hyped up on sugar and holiday joy, both his hair and clothing disheveled.
James was the one to stop at Regulus’s room, rapping softly at the wood of the doorframe. “Alright, love?” he asked, finding Regulus standing in front of the mirror on his ridiculous red-and-white-striped jumper with a reindeer on the front.
“I…” he sighed, looking at his reflection, trying to find the right words for the guilty ball of hesitation currently cutting off his air supply. “I shouldn’t be in this picture.”
The Gryffindor paused before stepping in front of him, pulling him into an embrace. “Reg, why on earth not?” He asked softly, voice merely a whisper above the blaring music Sirius had started playing downstairs.
“I’m not…” he swallowed, trying to put his feelings into words. He felt like an imposter, like he didn’t deserve the feelings of love and joy those pictures showed. “I don’t belong in them. You all are….and I’m…and what if you change your mind about me, hm? Then I’ve ruined a picture!”
James, however, pulled back enough to give Regulus a stern glare. “Regulus Black, I’m never changing my mind about you,” he said, gentle but fierce. “I’ve told you a thousand times: I love you. And people I love should be in that picture.”
Regulus pinched his lips together and closed his eyes, trying to let the warmth of the words wash over him, trying to feel the truth behind them. “You’re too good,” he sighed, letting his head fall to James’s chest, no venom behind the complaint. “I don’t even come close.”
“You’re perfect, baby. And you’re mine. That’ll always be enough,” James whispered in his ear, wrapping his arms tighter around him, holding him close.
They stood there like that for a long moment, enjoying the warmth, before the taller boy chuckled in his ear. “Plus, you’re wearing that ugly jumper for me, and for you, that’s practically an act of sainthood.”
Regulus pulled back and rolled his eyes, swatting James on the shoulder.
—
Regulus didn’t think much about the card after the picture was taken. He’d been too busy enjoying his holidays for the first time in his life–sledding on the huge hills near the Potters, having snowball fights against Sirius, James, and Remus and Peter when they came to visit, cooking with Effie and talking with Monty about potions theory. Sneaking away with James to get some alone time, much to Sirius’s dismay. Really, it had been blissful.
But when they came back from break and Effie’s sleek, dark owl swooped in, dropping cards on various students’ plates, Regulus remembered immediately.
Especially when he, Barty, Evan, Pandora, and Dorcas all received a copy.
Barty spoke first. Breaking into fits of laughter, he sprayed his breakfast all over the table as he exclaimed, “Oh Salazar, Reg! Look at yourself! What is that jumper?”
But Pandora, who was beaming with Dorcas, smacked him upside the head and said, “Reg, you look so happy.”
He looked down. There, on one of those cheesy, green-and-red, cartoon-covered cards, was a picture of himself, James, Sirius, Effie, and Monty, all in matching jumpers. He was sitting between James and Sirius, Effie and Monty on James’s other side, and James was clearly cracking a joke, because as photo-James began to say something, photo-Sirius let out a silent snort, and everyone fell into giggles.
Photo-Regulus looked joyful. He was beaming, light reflecting in his wide eyes, staring at James like he was the reincarnate of the sun, leaning back into Sirius as he did so.
Regulus’s heart felt warm. “I…do. Don’t I?” he murmured, amazed. All of his friends, even a still-chuckling Barty, gave him nods and smiles.
Still a bit dazed, he tucked the card into his bag. Perhaps, if he and James ever got a flat of their own, they could start their own line of photos on the mantle.