#platonic reader insert

“If she’s in your head all the time, doesn’t she already know everything about me?”

“Well, some things, sure. But not everything. She can hear what I’m thinking so long as neither of us is shielding, but it’s not like she goes rifling through my mind.”

“As if there is any need to, when you are constantly bragging about the little one, or bemoaning how much you miss her,” Sgaeyl scoffs.

Xaden refrains from answering. It’s true he often mentions his sister to Sgaeyl — who else is he supposed to talk to about her, when Basgiath is filled to the brim with people who would wish her harm if they ever learned of her existence? Garrick and Bodhi are the only ones he can fully trust in this regard, and the three of them rarely talk about her for fear of eavesdroppers. It’s only with his dragon that he doesn’t need to worry about that.

“Basically, she knows what I’ve shared with her,” he continues, “which admittedly is quite a bit, but even so that’s not the same as actually meeting you. You don’t have to, obviously, I just thought you might like—”

“Of course I want to!”

Xaden grins, inwardly shaking his head. Apparently, the idea of meeting a dragon is much less intimidating to his sister than that of a new human acquaintance. Typical. While he doesn’t quite understand the logic of it, if indeed there is any, he is glad to see her embrace his suggestion with such enthusiasm.

“Okay. Ready to go, then?”

She looks down at herself — or rather, at the pajamas she’s still wearing, since Xaden and Garrick had appeared in her room to wake her with breakfast in bed a mere half hour ago. “I guess I should get changed first.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sgaeyl is waiting for them in a mountain meadow not too far from the fortress, having flown down upon Xaden’s request to spare his sister the hike all the way up to the valley where Aretia’s dragons reside. She sits on her haunches with her tail curved around herself, wings spread wide like she’s enjoying the early morning sun, or like she’s showing off her impressive wingspan.

His arm slung protectively around his sister’s shoulders as they walk closer, Xaden leans in to murmur, “Remember: no eye contact, and no talking to her directly unless I say so.”

“I know.”

Xaden knows she knows. Most likely, she understands the dragons’ preference not to directly interact with any humans beside their chosen rider better than most people do — she, too, hates interacting with anyone outside her family. The only difference is that she has yet to bite anyone’s head off for having the audacity to approach her. Maybe if she had sharper teeth and the ability to breathe fire, social interactions wouldn’t be so damn frightening for her.

This once, Xaden has the impression she’s less anxious about the encounter ahead than he is, which is a first.

He just loathes the possibility that she might end up being scared of Sgaeyl. Respectfull fondness would be preferable, mild intimidation acceptable, but fear? No. He never wants to see her wear the terrified expression the new first-years do on Conscription Day, when the wingleaders’ dragons descent upon the courtyard in a show of their might.

This won’t be like that, he reminds himself. It will only be Sgaeyl, and she assured him she would be her kindest self — whatever that means by her standards. His sister will know Sgaeyl won’t mean her any harm, and he’ll be right by her side. It’ll be fine.

The nearer they draw to her, the wider his sister’s eyes get. No wonder, since she’s only seen Sgaeyl and Chradh from her window before. Flying overhead, the dragons are so far away as to barely seem real; up close, Sgaeyl is more than a little imposing, even as she tucks in her wings and curves her neck into the shape of a question mark to gaze down on them in an uncharacteristically benign way. Her jaw is firmly closed, hiding the maw that could swallow Raspberry as easily as if she really were one of the fruits Bodhi named her for.

“She’s even bigger than I thought,” she whispers, staring at the placid dragon in what Xaden decides to optimistically interpret as awe.

“Mhh, blues tend to be on the larger side. Some dragons are even bigger, though, like her mate Tairn… or Codagh.”

Xaden immediately regrets mentioning Melgren’s dragon. While his sister wasn’t present at the execution, she knows enough to recognize the name of their father’s killer. He doesn’t want the thought of him to overshadow what is supposed to be a special — a happy — moment.

“See her tail?” he asks by way of distraction.

She nods. “Dagger. That’s the rarest for blues, right?”

“Right.” He squeezes her shoulder, pleasantly surprised she remembers the information he mentioned in passing the previous time he visited home. Smiling, he adds, “Sgaeyl is many things, but ordinary definitely isn’t one of them.”

They’re close enough now that Xaden pulls her to a halt, the dragon’s looming shadow just barely touching their feet. Better to be safe than sorry. Although he knows in his heart that Sgaeyl would never harm his sister, that doesn’t make it a good idea to provoke her by throwing basic safety-measures out the window. She might stay outwardly calm even if he were to bring the girl too close, but that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be consequences for Xaden later.

The sharp comment he was half-expecting for the thought doesn’t come. His shields have been getting better, finally enough so to reliantly keep Sgaeyl out of his head unless she really tries to barge into it. He lowers them now.

“Berry-bug, this is Sgaeyl. Sgaeyl, meet my little sister.”

She gives Sgaeyl a small wave, visibly uncertain whether the gesture is appropriate. Xaden has never been prouder of her.

“Mhm... she has courage,” Sgaeyl observes. She’s regarding her much the same way one would an adventurous toddler, her mental voice tinged with amused approval.

Xaden doesn’t bother hiding his relief. “Yeah. She does.”

“And what do you except us to do now?” Her wry tone suggests that if she had eyebrows to raise at him, she would do so now.

“Well… I don’t know,” he admits. “I just wanted you to meet each other.”

His sister is looking at him too, waiting for his guidance. Xaden gives her a reassuring smile. Despite his lack of a plan, this is going very well.

There’s no need to make this into a big deal, he decides. He has introduced them, and now, the three of them can hang out a little, without pressuring either dragon or girl to be more social than she likes to.

He spreads his flight jacket over the dew-damp grass to sit in Sgaeyl’s shadow, his sister upon his lap so he can rest his chin on her shoulder and murmur about the thrill of soaring through the sky. There’s no doubt in his mind she would enjoy it as much as he does. Although there is nothing he would like more, he knows better than to ask Sgaeyl if they could take her for a short flight. After the huge favor she’s doing him by acting as non-threatening as he’s ever seen her, that would be pushing his luck too far.

Not that he really minds. Sitting there with both his girls, Xaden feels more at peace than he’s been in years.

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---

Something was off.

First off, you woke up to shouting, metal clanging and gunshots in complete darkness while folded up uncomfortably in a tiny space. Your head hurt something fierce. There was also something warm and fluffy pressed against you, a cat maybe? Poor thing was shaking. In an attempt to calm you both, you gently pet the unseen creature, which turned out to be harder than expected as you realized you must have been tied up in some form due to your restricted movements. You managed somehow but it probably wasn't as comforting as you had hoped.

After the noise died down a little, someone pried open the box you had been in the whole time. You looked down at your fluffy companion, vision swimming for a moment before stabilizing.

"Huh, not a cat."

The little otter chirped at you. If you didn't already know that they always looked like this, you'd have thought the little guy looked worried. (How did you know this?)

Someone peeked inside the box and gasped. Your gaze went up to meet wide eyes on a too young face. And were those..horns? Ears? Feelers? Your brain supplied the term Melusine. The world was spinning. Cotton stuffed in your skull.

"..uh..hi?"

"Oh no, what happened to your head?!"

Soon, all of the treasure hoarders were led away, the otters they had illegally captured got released back into their natural habitat and you got freed and your wounds treated. The Melusine that had found you earlier was kind enough to treat your wounds and wrap your head. Apparently you had given her quite a fright with the half dried blood on your head, oops. Not like you remembered it being there. Turned out you didn't just have one but two nasty bumps on your head. That certainly explained the symptoms though. Ouch.

You fell into horrified silence after she had asked you for your name and you realized you couldn't actually find the answer to that rattling around in your brain anywhere.

She was kind enough to let you stay with her and her sisters at the village. They had crowded around you when you had first arrived and one of them put a sticker on your bandages for good measure, insisting it'd help with the healing process before they reluctantly dispersed to let you rest.

She had insisted you rest while she went to send a letter. She seemed to be in quite a hurry too.

Strange dreams haunted you. Bits and pieces of glimpsing into other worlds through an item made of a piece of glass and something else, held conveniently in your hand. It's name eluded you still when you woke up.

A human (?) girl with some melusine features visited at some point to treat you. She also left some instructions for the others on how to care for you. Almost like you were their new pet project. Maybe you were, they were all very curious about you, after all. Maybe a bit too much, now that you thought about it..

Memories reappeared without rhyme or reason. Were those even yours? They seemed so absurd from what you've seen in the village with the Melusines so far.. could they be dreams too instead of geniune memories? Either way, you took notes, lest you forgot again. You could sort reality and fiction later.

One day, everyone seemed really excited. You had heard some of them talking excitedly about a very special visitor. Apparently everyone in the village adored him. Huh, must have been someone really nice then.

..you didn't know what you expected but this was not on your bingo list. You awkwardly sat at the too small table as he asked all kinds of questions you had no answers to. Was he worried about the Melusines taking in a random stranger? Before you could dig yourself your own grave under his watchful gaze, you were saved by the sweet sea angels explaining things to him that you could not. You took his softening expression and less tense stance as a good sign.

As a peace offering, you held out the notebook you had been using to record whatever scraps of memories or dreams did resurface along with new discoveries you had made here as if you were a child just starting to learn how things work. Sometimes you had added small sketches of items or creatures, both known and unknown. You couldn't put a name to everything. The melusines liked guessing those ones sometimes.

He took the notebook gingerly and read through it with the seriousness of someone used to drowning in paperwork. He finished it concerningly quickly, his brows knitting together as he gently set the book onto the table.

"..this is all you remember?"

You nodded and looked away, unable to hide your expression twisting with the upset you felt at the gaping hole in your memories.

"..i'm sorry."

A little hand stuck a sticker to your cheek. You thanked her shakily (more like you blubbered a weak thanks) and devolved into tears soon after. Good thing the Melusines liked to use waterproof stickers.

Neuvillette awkwardly offered you a tissue.

He had wanted to not only keep an eye on you, but he also explained that maybe interacting with some other people than usual might help in regaining some of what had been lost. You had been reluctant to leave the village with him being basically a stranger to you but no matter which Melusine you asked, they all only had good things to say about him. It was certainly reassuring that they found him to be such a trustworthy person.

He took you back with him to a big city, that was quite different from the cozy little merusea village you had been getting used to. The city of fontaine was much bigger and crowded. It made your head spin.

Everything was so big here, it made you feel small and insignificant. Just a speck of dust in a huge bookshelf.

Another medical checkup. The bandages had been set aside now but the weirdly mirrored bumps on your head had persisted, stubbornly so. They just wouldn't go down, quite the contrary even, they seemed to be growing recently. Neuvillette kept you closer than usual. Your spine tingled. ..what was happening?

Soup again. You started to wonder if Neuvillette even knew how to cook anything that wasn't soup.

Your attempts at cooking something else weren't recieved quite as you expected..what did he mean 'too dry' ? You had made sure to add extra sauce to the pasta too.. But considering how he muttered that under his breath, he probably didn't mean for you to hear.. maybe you should try cooking soup for him next time.

You mostly stayed in his way too big home when he was busy. Luckily, you didn't get lonely, since your self proclaimed sisters liked to come visit you there whenever they could. Neuvillette once told you that Melusines got special eyes, seeing things a bit differently from most other people. You wondered what you looked like to them, especially after one of them had called you an egg. Was that a good thing to be?

Your skin started getting dry and itchy at some point. The weird bumps on your head felt oddly hard to the touch lately and something about sitting down had been feeling off too recently.

You had been having a nice relaxing bath, Neuvillette had suggested it to help with your odd ailments. He had even taken some time off to help you through it. Which was sweet, a bit weird maybe but sweet.

The way your skin started peeling off in the warm bath had you panic and probably scream too but you were too horrified to notice the ruckus you were making. Why were you peeling?? Were you gonna die?

A knock at the door. A concerned inquiry from him.

You must have said something in your panic because your literal skin was falling off and he stepped in, approaching you with soothing words and a stance one might take when approaching a scared animal.

None of it really registered until he gently grabbed your wrist and made you look.

..huh, there was actually a healthy layer of skin underneath the old layer peeling off.

Apparently you were just shedding like some kind of reptile. He offered soft reassurances, that it was normal for an emerging dragon. He even offered to help you with your shed if you needed it. He'd be just a call away.

That had been a lot to unpack. Apparently, the Melusines had seen the signs first. Neuvillette had noticed them over the time spent with you. And you? Clueless the whole time. Apparently everyone involved had just assumed you'd still know your species, even after losing your memory. Which would have been fine, if you didn't explicitly remembered only ever having been human in all of your recovered memories. But you didn't even think that it'd be a relevant thing to write down, so this was..something.

After the shed was finally off, you felt relief. No more itching skin. You felt lighter, like you could breathe better now. Your horns had gotten slightly bigger, yes, those bumps were horns growing in and now you even sported a small tail, stubby as it may be at the moment. No wonder sitting had been feeling off with that squished in underneath your old skin. You hadn't even noticed for crying out loud, other than something feeling weird.

Afterwards, you had a much needed talk with Neuvillette. The horns and tail would keep growing until they'd reach a certain size. Even Neuvillette couldn't tell you when that'd be done or how long that'd take though. Apparently that was a very individual thing for dragons.

Luckily, altering your clothes to accomodate your new tail was easily done and you got your clothes back from the seamstress surprisingly quickly. It was so much nicer to wear something that didn't restrict your tail. And to the amusement of everyone else, your tail would start wagging whenever you were happy about something.

Your sisters congratulated you to your first shed the next time you saw them. Apparently that was some kind of milestone for dragonkin, that was to be celebrated together with family over tea and cake.

You looked around you, your cheerful sisters and the tall guardian dressed in blue. These people already felt more like home than any of your fragmentary memories ever did. You were finally home.

Bonus:

One of your sisters had recorded precious moments with her camera.

She even managed to capture the way your face lit up and the movement of your tail wagging like an excited puppy.

There was also some footage of you playing games together and a lot of fun pictures with everyone, including ones where everyone was doing silly faces and a bunch of when your sisters roped you and Neuvi into playing dressup. Of course there were also group photos with everyone smiling for the camera.

"Thanks, sir." You smiled at the camera before turning your gaze down to the book in your lap, "Tonight we'll be reading something a little slower paced. It's fun, cozy, and perfect for a night like this, so let's begin." With that, you announced the title of your current favorite book and then flipped it open, reading aloud. 

The set around you was decorated to resemble a cozy living room; with a crackling fireplace behind your couch, a fake window to your left that was supposed to make it seem as if it overlooked a snowy field, and the softest carpet you'd ever walked on. The log walls were decorated with photos of cute animals since you had no family photos to adorn them, and both the couch, blanket, and carpet were soothing shades of light pink and purple that greatly contrasted the harsh the blues and red of your boss while still remaining within the same domain. 

You read in your most soothing tone, which many viewers liked to claim had the ability to lull them to sleep almost instantly, even if you had no such power that you knew of. Though, you supposed anything calming and cozy like this would have been a great relief in a place like hell, which had been your goal from the beginning. 

Vox was hesitant about your segment when you first pitched it, considering it was so different from the rest of the shows he ran, but eventually he gave it a chance, and it had only ever paid off since. As far as sinners went, you were adorable, and it wasn't just because you were young compared to most of the adults in hell. That, coupled with the cozy vibe of your set and the books you read, was enough to keep viewers coming back, meaning there were more people to see Vox's commercials and, therefore, become his customers. 

Not to mention the fact that it made him look good in the public eye. A teenage sinner who liked to read their little books for the public, and whose soul he didn't even bother to own? He looked more kindhearted than half of hell's overlords combined, no matter his intentions. 

The only person that didn't approve of your reading segment currently stood on a sidewalk somewhere in Pentagram City, watching through the window of a shop. Despite his apparent smile, his eyes were narrowed in disapproval at the screen.

To those who didn't know him, he would have simply looked like a regular sinner; interested in listening to you read the story you seemed to excited about. Had they been paying attention, they might have noticed the way his hands tightened around the microphone he held or how his red deer-like ears tugged back slightly. 

And as for those that did have the sense to recognize him, they wouldn't have even had the time to notice those details, because they would have already turned and walked the other way upon seeing the Radio Demon back after his seven year absence. 

About an hour later, you finished your segment, feeling a little sleepy yourself from the calming sounds of the fire and a good book. Even your cameraman seemed to barely be able to keep his eyes open at this point.

"I think we'll stop there for tonight," you said with a yawn, gently placing your Vox Tech bookmark between the pages and closing your book, "Tune in tomorrow, where we'll continue the story from where we left off." You were talking even more quietly than you had at the beginning, not wanting to disturb any of the viewers at home that may have fallen asleep. Though, it was a futile effort, considering a blaring commercial would likely run the second you were off-air again. "This has been the Reader's Segment; thank you and goodnight!" 

With that, your cameraman signaled that you were now off-air and you yawned again, wrapping the fuzzy purple blanket around yourself despite the warmth of the nearby ambient fire. 

A moment later, the door to your recording set opened and in stepped Vox himself with a familiar frown on his face. He looked around, though, and the second his eyes landed on you, the expression was replaced by a  picturesque smile. "There they are!" He exclaimed happily, walking over to you as you blinked sleepily at him. 

"Hi." You smiled through your hazy tiredness, making the tech demon soften just a bit. 

"Well done, kid." He said, ruffling your hair, "As always." Vox gently placed a hand on your back, leading you towards the studio door and leaving the rest of his workers to clean the set up behind you. "I have to say, I never expected a 'cute' segment like yours to do so well," he went on, ever the businessman, as you half-listened. "Turns out comfort was exactly what pathetic sinners wanted all along!" He glanced your way, his smile becoming more genuine now, before adding, "I'm proud of you, kid." That got your full attention now. 

You'd only heard the words a few times in your whole life, despite the huge positive effect they always had on you. Even the man that had raised you; the one that should have been the most proud in the end, had never actually told you so. Vox may not have been related to you by blood, or even legally, but hearing that phrase from him still made you grin.

"Thanks." You replied, unsure of how to convey how much his pride meant to you. Luckily, it seemed you didn't need to, because he just nodded and then brought you over to the nearby elevator. 

"It's the truth, kid," he replied, pressing the button that would take you up to his designated floor. Each of the V's had one, with Vox's being the highest, that was technically supposed to be solely their living space. However, after you began working for him, Vox ended up converting one of the rooms on his floor to make it yours. Now, your bedroom was the first door on the right after entering Vox's floor. 

"Though, it looked to me like that bookshelf of yours is starting to get a little empty..." He was referring to the shelf found on your set. It housed each of the books you planned on reading next in no particular order. This way, when you finished one for the show, you could immediately pick a new pre-approved one from the back shelf. The one you were done with would then be moved up to your room for you to keep, which was beginning to look more like a library with how many titles there were inside. 

"Did it?" You asked, feeling a little embarrassed, "I can grab a few more to add to it tomorrow." Vox shook his head, though, as the elevator finally reached your shared floor. 

"No need," he replied, "How about we buy some more tomorrow; call it a shopping day?" With how many unread books you already had making a mess in your room, there was really no need to buy any more. But after the first year of having you around, he realized making you happy tended to lift some of the stress and burden he felt off his shoulders, so he did so whenever possible. 

"Really?!" You asked, stars practically shining in your eyes as you stepped out of the elevator. Vox nodded, a warm smile on his face. 

"Of course; can't have my best segment lacking stories, now can I?" You grinned, hugging him without even thinking. At some point during your time working for him, it had become a natural gesture.

Vox rested a hand on your head with a grin, patting your hair. He'd never expected to get so attached to a kid, much less you, of all people, and yet here he was, enjoying the hug as if he were your close family member. 

Once the excitement of the news seemed to die down for you, that fuzzy, tired feeling from before came back. "Thanks, dad..." You mumbled into the tech demon's coat. His eyes widened for just a moment before a smile reappeared on his face. You probably hadn't even realized what you'd just said, and yet, it felt so right for him to hear it. 

"No problem, kid." He replied. Finally, he pulled away, patting your shoulder. "Now, you'd better get to bed if you're going to have enough energy for book shopping tomorrow." You grinned again, wrapping your soft blanket a little tighter around your body. 

"Right." You said, gently rubbing your now-very-tired eyes. "Goodnight!" You called as you turned and opened the door to your bedroom. 

"Goodnight." Vox replied softly before you closed the door behind you and disappeared. He could hear a muffled 'flop' sound somewhere inside, realizing you'd likely collapsed onto your bed immediately after entering. 

He chuckled softly before turning to head to his own room. Vox tended to stay up much later than you most nights; handling various paperwork and business. Today was no exception, but as he made his way to his office, which was attached to the bedroom, he spared a glance at the framed photo that sat propped on his bedside table. In it, you were depicted, holding up the camera to take a selfie. Vox was there too, an arm around your shoulders as he posed for the camera. Both of you looked so happy; smiling brightly as if you had not a care in the world.

It was his favorite photo; thus why it always remained on his nightstand. He turned away now, heading for his office with a renewed determination to get things done. After falling out with his closest friend seven years ago, the tech demon had assumed nothing else would ever be able to bring him joy again.

And he had been right, until you came along. 

..........

You were up bright and early the next day; too early for Vox's standards. He'd barely gotten any sleep, as per usual, but had smelled the breakfast you were making in the kitchen once he came out of his extra office. 

As soon as he entered, you'd smiled and sat him down at the table, handing him a plate of your personal favorite breakfast food. Of course that had been what you chose to wake up and make this early in the morning.

Regardless, the tech demon humored you, knowing you were just excited to get to go book shopping later that day. 

Once you'd both eaten, you hurriedly shoved him into his room, insisting he get dressed and ready for the day while you did the same. Apparently, you wanted to be at the bookstore the second it opened, but who was Vox to deny you, when it seemed to make you so happy?

Once you both were ready, the two of you took the elevator down to the V Tower lobby, with Vox ignoring several calls from his assistant along the way. He could wait until later, the tech demon decided. Instead, he listened to you go on and on about the books you planned to get and how excited you were. It seemed you had a fully prepared list, and Vox was ready to get every single one on it if it brought you joy. Finally, you reached the ground floor and the elevator dinged as the doors opened.

And almost immediately, you were met with the sounds of shouting and windows breaking. Clearly, there was already a commotion, even though it was even ten in the morning yet. Sighing, Vox stepped out first, followed promptly by you, who would never miss out on a scoop if you could help it; especially if it was happening in your own 'basement.'

What you saw was even more surprising than expected. The employees that usually worked on this floor were running around like chickens with their heads cut off; many of them screaming in fear. The secretary that usually worked the front desk was dangling in the air; held by an eerie black tentacle that you recognized all too well. Following it with your gaze, you could see that it was attached to none other than a red deer-like demon, whose body had morphed so that he was almost too tall to fit in the room.

A green 'X' mark sat on his forehead, further confirming that he was currently in his demonic form as he held the secretary up to his eye level.

"Where are they?!" He demanded, his radio static voice somehow even more haunting than usual. 

"I'm not authorized to tell you that!" The secretary screeched, covering his eyes as the tentacle's grip tightened around him and began bringing him towards the demon's open mouth.

Vox's assistant stood off to the side, frantically typing something on his phone amidst the panic. So, that was why he'd been calling so much this morning.

With a sigh, the tech demon activated his mind control powers, taking a step forward into the chaos. "Stop!" He shouted, his voice distorted. Suddenly, everything came to a stop, except the giant demon still holding his secretary, who slowly turned his head in your direction.

Still smiling, his eyes narrowed for a moment before he suddenly noticed you standing there, instantly reverting back to his normal form as if nothing had happened. The black tentacles that had been holding the secretary disappeared, causing them to fall to the floor with a thud. Meanwhile, the Radio Demon adjusted his coat jacket and stepped forward.

"Finally," he called, holding his microphone-cane behind him, "The man in charge, so to speak." Both you and Vox tensed, and you looked to the tech demon, unsure what to do. 

When neither of you said anything, Alastor spoke again. "And it seems you've found my little one!" He exclaimed with an even wider smile, "Good, then I'll have no need to search this entire building for them." Vox's eyes narrowed at the idea, and he was about to take a step to the side, so as to block you, when you finally spoke.

"Papa...?" Your voice was quiet; hurt. The tech demon hated it but you took a step forward, nonetheless. This was, as much as he hated to admit it, technically your father; the man you hadn't seen or even heard from once in the last seven years. That would have shocked anyone. 

"There you are, my dear!" Alastor said, opening his arms to you as if expecting a hug. "Come along, now. We have quite a bit to catch up on!" You didn't move. 

Vox took a step forward, sensing your uncertainty. "You've been missing for seven years," he replied, "They don't have to go with you." Alastor's eyes narrowed. 

"They're my child," he said, "So I'd suggest you get out of the way before things get ugly, old pal." You bit your lip. As much as you'd longed to see your father again all this time, now that you were faced with that reality, you weren't so sure. You'd only just come to accept the fact that he would never be returning for you, and now here he was, acting as if nothing had even happened. 

You used to be close with him, but now it felt like he wasn't even the same person anymore. Vox, of all people, had had to take you in after your dad left without warning, and since then, he'd become the only father figure you had in your life. 

Alastor glanced between the two of you with what would have been a scowl, if not for the permanent smile on his face. Everyone else had all but cleared the room now; leaving only the three of you there in your standoff. 

You were frozen; unsure what to do, and you knew Alastor could see it. It was like having to choose between your two parents in a divorce, except in this situation, it was the once-loving-father that had abandoned you and the man that had stepped up ever since. 

Unfortunately, Alastor didn't seem to read the situation the same way you did, because with his flare for the dramatics, he went on.

"Darling," he sighed before bringing out his mic and beginning a song. Now you knew there was no going back. "Looks like you could use some help," he began, "from hell's Radio Demon himself!" 

Alastor swung his cane, summoning two familiar sinners to the room to back him up now. "Never trust the one who's acting so heartfelt!" He pointed in Vox's direction, and Nifty immediately scurried over, jumping on Vox's shoulder. 

"Traitor!" She exclaimed adamantly before the tech demon ripped her off of him. Husk, however, was less enthusiastic. 

"Heartless," he said, ignoring how Vox glared and began to stalk towards him, only for Nifty to jump and latch onto his back now. 

"A total snake!" She exclaimed and he tried to shake her off again. Meanwhile, the two of them provided enough distraction now for Alastor to gently grab you by the arm and pull you away. 

"Oh, with enough motivation, dear," he went on, "He'll betray you, standing right here!"  Before he could get you out of the lobby door, though, Vox had pressed a button to activate the security measures, locking it from the outside. "Usually, you'd learn it on your own, I fear," he went on, "But for you I'd do anything!"

Nifty ran over to the two of you wearing one of your hats she'd gotten off a nearby coat rack now, hugging one of Alastor's legs as if she were pretending to be you. Or at least, a happier version of you. "Thanks, dad!" 

Alastor turned, pointing to Vox, "Who needs a knock-off now that I have returned?" Nifty nodded eagerly, jumping to rest on your father's head. 

"Whoa!" She sang, having way too much fun with this. 

"Come back to radio; have all you could want!" Alastor went on, trying his best to win your favor once more. "I've all the fatherly affection you've earned!" He spun you around once before gently gripping your shoulders and pointing up as if he were showing you something in the sky. "Clothing, safety, souls of the hasty, this we would flaunt!"

Finally, Vox seemed to have had enough because he appeared between the two of you like a bolt of lightning, gently pushing you away from Alastor and towards the elevator. "Who's been here since he was gone?" He reminded you, "Even if you weren't my spawn? Who gave you the segment that makes them yawn?" He pointed to the crowd of sinners outside, who'd gathered by the windows to watch what was going on. Then he smiled and straightened his bowtie. 

"It's your very own producer!" He sang.

"That's true..." You admitted as he pressed the button for the elevator now, already using his demon powers to call the security staff to the lobby to handle Alastor. Any other day, Vox would have done so himself, but having you right there made the situation much more difficult. 

"I support you, day to day!" The tech demon went on, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, "Your books, show; whatever you can name!" The elevator doors opened, and Vox pushed you inside before you could even think of protesting. Once Alastor was out of sight again, he brought up a photo of the bookstore you'd planned to visit.

"Remember I'm taking you shopping today?" He asked just as a video chat with the bookstore's owner appeared.

"Buy our books?" She asked in the same singing-tone everyone seemed to have adopted now, "Thank you sir!" 

The elevator doors dinged now as you reached the third floor, where Vox's security team was stationed. However, the second they opened, all that could be seen was Alastor, along with an empty office and some black tentacles still disappearing from wherever they'd came. 

"I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond," Vox went on as he hurriedly pressed the 'close door' button in the elevator. They began to do so, only for another of Alastor's black tentacles to stop them just in time, ripping the doors open. "You're like the child that I wish that I had!" If Vox could sweat, he surely would have been doing so by now as Alastor's eyes narrowed again. This was the closest you'd ever seen him to not smiling. 

"Excuse me?" The Radio Demon spoke, his pupils already taking the shape of dials. Finally, Vox stood straighter, turning back to you and patting your head. 

"I care for you just like a child spawned!" He sang, knowing it was getting under Alastor's skin. "It's a little funny," he glanced back, a smirk on his features. Your father was seething. "You could almost call me 'dad'!" The second those words left Vox's mouth, Alastor moved to attack him, only for you both to disappear in crackles of electricity. 

The tech demon almost never transported others with him this way, which meant he was taking Alastor's presence in the V's tower seriously. You appeared on your shared floor, which also happened to have a panic room. It had been designed for waiting out exterminations but, considering the situation, Vox figured it would work just fine to keep you from your father now. 

He began pulling you towards it, only for Alastor to appear out of the shadows in front of him. 

"They say when you're looking for assistance," Vox sang, trying to move around him, only to be blocked by a black tentacle, "It's smart to pick the path of least resistance!" He was getting very tired of playing nice with the Radio Demon, especially when the tentacle previously blocking him grabbed onto his arm and pulled him away from you.  

"Others say that in your needy hour," Alastor said, beginning to pull you away from the tech demon, "The one that first raised you is simply never sour!" He spun you around to emphasize the proclamation, then stopped and placed both hands on your shoulders. "Who just happens to have known you in life!" He added a little more intensely.

A second later, though, you were pulled out of your father's grip by Vox, who began rushing you towards the panic room. "Sadly, there are times a child's needs are met with strife!" He exclaimed, pushing you through the door as gently but quickly as possible, "They say the family you choose is better." 

"Pathetic excuses!" Alastor chimed in, grabbing onto your arm just as gently-but-urgently as he attempted to pull you back. 

"Can you butt out of my song?" Vox snapped, pulling harder on your arm. You were halfway through the door now, awkwardly standing there and not knowing what else to do.

"Your song?" Alastor replied with a scoff, "I started it!"

"I'm singing it; I'll finish it!" Vox shouted back, pulling back on your other arm. The pressure was starting to hurt you now but you couldn't seem to get a word in about it as they fought one another. At this rate, you'd be torn in half before they could come to a custody agreement. 

"You're always such a piece of-" Before Alastor could finish his sentence, you finally cut in, pulling your arms out of both their grasps.

“You don’t need to worry about accepting their invitations; I have already sent them letters welcoming their requests for our family’s attendance at Yule celebrations this holiday.” Orion looked on in wonder when you continued writing, steadily piling up the letters in batches for your owl to deliver. His steel-grey eyes narrowed when you silently tied the batch of letters together and magicked the window open for your owl to swiftly deliver its hefty package. With a click of his tongue, a clear expression of distrust from your dismissal, Orion slams his hand on the table to leer at you, “I said there’s no need. Didn’t you hear me?”

“I heard you, Orion.” your unfazed demeanour irks him more than he’d care to admit. 

“Then why are you continuing to write?” He looks down to read the contents of the letter you were currently writing to the Lestranges, focusing intently on trying to read your cursive upside down. 

‘…sadly we would need to decline your invitation to dinner on the…’

“—WHAT ABSURDITY IS THIS?!” Orion attempts to snag the letter from your grasp but you’re faster and hurry to seal away the letter of rejection in an envelope, swiftly addressing it on the back. He shouts your name, calling for your attention, for an answer, and you silently huff at his volume; he’ll end up disturbing the boys at this rate. With this man-child in the house, how can you possibly anticipate any peace to occur? 

Now you are having a stand-off in the middle of your home office, husband and wife scowling at each other with equal distaste, both stubborn about their stance. “This isn’t absurd, Orion! Why would our choice—”

“It’s your selfish choice!”

“Yes, you’re right; it is a selfish choice, but it’s with good intentions! We have a right to reject their invitations in favour of celebrating with our own family.” Orion visibly bristles at your reasoning, like a raptorial cat spotting its prey and immediately preparing to pounce. 

“ABSURD AND SELFISH! WHAT REASON DO WE HAVE TO REJECT THEIR INVITATIONS?!”

The parchment feels heavy in your hands, carrying the weight of your defiance, but you stand strong by it. “…Orion,” you begin after taking a slow breath, voice steady but pleading — you need to be the calm one or else this argument will spiral dangerously. And you don’t want either of the boys to hear upstairs; evenings like this should be spent winding down for bed. “I want this Yule to be just us. No dinners, no soirees, no endless gatherings. Just our family. For the boys.” Orion doesn’t show any sign of understanding, but you press forward. You find that every interaction has become a latent test, putting your husband on trial to assess his fitfulness as a father. However, every exchange has been marked by increasingly lamentable results, such that you feel stupid for believing he may have some redeeming qualities as a father. “Regulus will be leaving to attend Hogwarts next year, and then it’ll just be… us. Let us have this one Yule to focus on each other and be together as a family, please. It’s a precious time we must commemorate appropriately.”

Orion’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes narrowing. “It is our duty to maintain appearances. We cannot simply abandon tradition because you’ve decided to indulge in some sentimental whim!” 

Your temper isn’t usually quick to rise, but you feel it spike exponentially within you from his bitter words. This was worth taking offence over. How dare he demean the precious time you intend to spend with your loved ones — namely only Sirius and Regulus. He has no pride as a father or a husband. With another slow breath, you try to tame your racing heart.

“The only tradition we must abide by is attendance at the Yule soiree with the slew of other wizarding families,” you counter, your voice rising slightly despite your attempt to hold down your tongue. “Every other dinner, every other event—they’re not necessities, Orion. They’re only frivolous distractions. And I won’t have my boys grow up thinking that their worth is measured by how many pureblood gatherings they attend.”

“Sirius is already a poor example of an heir. The first in centuries to be sorted into Gryffindor—”

“Orion, please!”

“—he must spend time with the right sort!”

“He is with the right sort! He has friends who care about him in Gryffindor.”

“That’s not worth anything!” 

“Oh! Get over yourself, Orion!” your voice gets louder and louder, swept up by the intense emotions making the air in the room vibrate tensely. “Those dinners and gatherings aren’t a necessity! Sirius will grow up to be a fine man without them! Trust in yourself as his father!” you try to play with his compassion as a parent but it’s no use.

“It is a necessity because I say it is!” Orion snaps, his voice booming through the room. “No further arguments, wife. This is final.”

You bristle at his curt command, your temper flaring once more, mirroring Orion’s climbing wrath. “That’s not how the world works, Orion. How childish! The boys and I will be spending Yule together. If you’re so desperate to attend every last gathering, you may do so by your lonesome!” You step to the open window and call for another owl to take and deliver the Lestrange’s letter.

Orion’s face darkens, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He doesn’t dare lash out as he can sense that his magic is already making the walls and furniture shake around the room — he also gathers that you would have added to the telekinetic quaking as well. This house was a precious property, a standing legacy of their ancient and most noble house. No argument was worth its potential collapse. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I am not the ridiculous one!” You shoot back, your voice as sharp and piercing as your eyes. Once again, Orion cannot recognise you, the occurrence of which has been more often as of recently that he’s lost count long before. Where had his wife disappeared to? This wasn’t the woman he married… “It is you who is being ridiculous! Why can’t you see that this is important? For them, for us as a family?”

Orion takes a step closer, his expression softening slightly but not from concern. Looking into his eyes, you see the judgement and suspicion and desperately move to bite down your tongue. The Black family patriarch’s tone is firm, strong and demanding. “Why have you changed so drastically, wife? This is unlike you…” Never had the two of you been so disparate in mind and intentions, it was unusual to have such a quarrel; usually, Orion can trust in his wife and lady to manage the house elf and their sons while he focuses on their reputation and his job. However, now, it was difficult to trust you with managing anything in the Black family home without his supervision; your ambitions have changed far too drastically, and even the house elf has changed— the filthy thing. There wasn’t a clear answer to this dilemma either, not one that he could attempt to foresee and the mental instability that thought brings was beyond frustrating.  

You swallow hard and carefully consider the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. It was suffocating being put on the spot like this; your mind is racing, but you’re desperate not to appear flustered beyond convention. “…I simply want to be a good mother to my children, both of which will soon leave the nest together. I want to treasure as much of the little time we have left with each other.” your confession comes out quietly, your voice trembling with sincere emotions from the thought. As much as you wanted to be a mother in your past life, experiences like this are ineluctable to all parents; you just didn’t believe it could affect you to such a profound degree. You suppose it’s one of those things in life that you can’t expect to be familiar with until you’ve undergone it firsthand.  

“You are a good mother,” Orion replies, his tone almost dismissive as if the matter can be settled with his singular comment of reassurance.

The words sting more than you care to admit, however. You know what his perception is of how a home should be run, and you know of his closed perspective on what it means to be a ‘good mother’—obedient, dutiful, upholding the family name at all costs, even if it’s at the detriment of a long-term relationship with your children. The kind of mother who raises sons to be carbon copies of their father, even if that father has more shameful qualities than good.  But that is not the kind of mother you want to be, not for your darling boys, not ever. Overcoming that sadness and the thoughts of what Sirius and Regulus had to endure before you took over Walburga, you quickly fill up with rage and disgust. It’s repulsive how misinformed and disparaging his views are towards parenting —he should be ashamed of himself.  

“I have not been a good mother,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. This might be a good time to provide a fair reason to explain the sudden and drastic changes in your behaviour and views. Orion will have no choice but to accept something so profoundly simple that it becomes a hard pill to swallow. “And I can admit that. But I’m doing my best to change, for my boys. Please, Orion. I know you can be a good father to the children too. It’s what they deserve.”

Orion lets out a humourless and brief laugh — a mockery of your new ideations. His anger flares once again, his patience worn thin after you’ve blatantly offended his attitude and parenting. “No. What they deserve is a strict education and upbringing. It’s all done to honour our family’s name. We are the most ancient and noble house, house Black! Where is your pride?” he leers down at you, unconvinced and judgemental.

“Where is your shame?” you counter far too quickly to stop yourself. 

“…you will have to go alone with them, then,” he says coldly, turning away from you. “I will uphold our name without your sorry, audacious existence to humiliate me.”

Your spine straightens as your resolve hardens; you don’t care much for his offending words rather, you are relieved. At least he didn’t demand the boys accompany him anyway, instead of you. “Fine then,” you say firmly, clearly unaffected by his words, which makes him want to lash out in anger once again. However, you were already turning on your heel and striding out of the room before he could attempt another heated exchange, your sharp footfalls echoing against the floor. As you reach the hallway, closing the door behind you, you pause and glance up at the bannister above, managing to catch two blurred figures ducking out of sight. 

“Come out, you two,” you call softly, not wanting to appear confrontational or irate and smile to help colour your words warmly. “I know you’ve been listening.”

After a moment of silence, there’s a shuffling of feet as Sirius and Regulus slowly come into view, peering down at you from their perch in the upper hallway. They share the same sheepish expression. You sigh and move to meet them upstairs, gesturing that they go ahead of you, “Into Sirius’ room, we need to talk.”

The boys follow your words obediently, their heads bowed as they hurry through the door with Sirius’ name hanging at the front. Once inside your eldest’s room, you close the door gently and turn to face them where they’ve settled atop Sirius’ bed. They can see the frustration and fatigue on your face and they wonder if it would have been better if they didn’t know the reason behind it. Nevertheless, they come to one conclusion and it's that they don’t like seeing you in such a state. Their kind, gentle and loving mother doesn’t deserve to be distressed — and it makes them feel all the more guilty when they realise that you were having to deal with them as soon as you finished arguing exhaustively with their father. They wouldn’t blame you if you, instead, had ignored them altogether in favour of resolving your frustrations. Nevertheless, it meant the world to them that they were such a high priority for you that you didn’t give it a second thought before joining them upstairs to talk.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, boys,” your voice is filled with regret, an achy feeling that they mirror in their own silvery-grey eyes. “It’s not a good example to set, arguing like that with your father. I’m sorry.” The two share a somewhat astonished look — they fully believed you would reprimand them after being caught listening to your quarrel. “Eavesdropping is not proper behaviour, either.” There it is…

“Sorry mother…” They guiltily apologise in unison, looking down from the shame weighing down their stomachs as you slowly approach.

“It’s alright, just don’t do it again, okay?” you raise both your pinkies so that they can seal the promise by curling their pinkies around yours — you were so happy to have shared this little ‘muggle’ tradition with them; it was a good enforcer of good manners and promises. Satisfied with the pledge, you take a seat at the foot of Sirius’ bed, your legs hanging off the edge as you partially turn towards them. 

Regulus looks up at you, his wide grey eyes filled with concern. He remembers hearing the way you reasoned with his father on why you were rejecting invitations and it left him holding onto a peculiar mixture of guilt and joy that you were willing to turn away other families just to have a memorable Yule holiday with him and Sirius before they leave for Hogwarts together. 

“But there’s no need to be sorry, Mother… it’s not your fault.”

Sirius, the bolder one of the two and acting on the emotions he felt safe enough to express, crosses his arms and scowls. His opinion of the situation has been made up already. “Yeah, Dad’s being an idiot.”

You raise a questioning brow but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips — you didn’t know your son could look so cute being a grump. But, you attest that to his bias on taking your side over his father’s, loyally and stubbornly taking your side on things definitively. “Your father is not an idiot, Sirius,” you reach out to gently pet down his curls, slightly pushing the stray strands away from his forehead. Almost instantly, Sirius uncrosses his arms and leans into your touch, his grumpy expression melting away, “Orion is just… a stubborn old fool.” The last part slips out in a whisper, and Sirius and Regulus exchange a glance before breaking into quiet snickers. Clearly, they agree with your sentiment, but you have to hold yourself back from joining their giggling.

“You don’t need to defend him, Mother,” Sirius says, his voice tinged with frustration as he and Regulus shuffle closer to you. “Men are fockin’ pricks!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Sirius! Where did you hear such language?”

Your eldest has the decency to look sheepish but doesn’t back down and answers honestly. “From some Muggle-borns at school,” his chin jutting out defiantly, and your eyes frantically move between him and Regulus over and over. You don’t like the intrigued expression on your youngest’s face, your concern for his language development growing with the blatant curiosity and fascination in his appearance.

Just as you see the familiar question of: ‘What does it mean?’ appear clearly on your sweet youngest’s face, you hurry to denounce Sirius’ speech, “Don’t repeat what Sirius just said Regulus.”

“I’m sorry, Mother, I won’t,” while Regulus apologetically looks up at you, Sirius looks at his brother with a sneaky smile tugging at the corners of his lips. And it was at that moment that you knew Sirius couldn’t be stopped from explaining the curses to his little brother. With a sigh, you shake your head, already accepting Sirius’ silent plans to go against your distaste for the swears. The least you could do is set a boundary so they know not to speak like that around you — you trust that they would use the words sparingly. 

“I don’t want that kind of language in this house. Please refrain from making such exclamations again. And no more eavesdropping, either. It’s bad manners.” The boys nod, their expressions downcast and apologetic, but they instantly light up when you lean down to kiss their foreheads, a reminder that you still love them despite their mistakes. You no longer have to word the sentiment but can’t help refraining from speaking through your actions. They needed the reassurance, though, and they appreciated your proactive, loving gestures. “I want you to grow up to be gentlemen… unlike your father.” The last part is whispered once again, but Sirius and Regulus hear it anyway, and, again, exchange another round of stifled snickers.

Sirius leans forward, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What were you and Father arguing about, Mother? And why are we all in my room?” He and Regulus managed to hear bits and pieces above their racing heartbeat drumming against their ears, but he needs you to confirm things. He didn't want to get his hopes up on the aspect of no longer attending those stiff and boring Yule dinners with other prestigious families. He didn’t want to get his hopes up on finally being able to celebrate the holiday the same way his friends had fondly and excitedly described.

With a fond smile, you brush a hand through Sirius's hair before doing the same to Regulus. There’s a warm affection in your eyes that’s hypnotising and makes them lean in to hear you even closer as you straighten your back from where you’re seated at the edge of the bed. “You two need to pack some luggage, enough for a week or so away.” there’s a lightness and purpose in your tone, a premature excitement.

Sirius deflates, his shoulders sagging as his face falls into an adorable pout. “But I just finished unpacking…”

You can’t help but giggle at his dramatics, adoring the sight of Regulus reaching over to pat his brother on the back comfortingly. “But you’ll want to pack for where I’m taking you two,” your eyes twinkle with mischief. “We’re leaving right from the Yule soiree tomorrow.”

That gets their attention immediately. Both boys perk up with interest and elation swimming in their wide eyes. “Where are we going?” Regulus asks, his voice filled with wonder. Both boys were standing on Sirius’ bed now and you can easily predict that they would soon be jumping about if you revealed anything more.

“You’ll find out tomorrow~” you sing playfully, standing from the bed to move to the door as you have to pack your own luggage. With half-hearted whines of protest, the brothers clamber off the bed and rush to your side, clinging to the long skirt of your dress in an attempt to pull more hints from you. “We’ll be getting there via the Floo Network, so I’ll keep your shrunken luggage with me at the soiree tomorrow. Your father won’t be joining us, I’m afraid, so make sure to say your goodbyes before we leave in the afternoon.” You wave your wand, summoning two identical lists that float gently into their hands. “Here’s a list of everything you’ll need to bring.”

“Okay, Mother,” they chorus, their voices filled with anticipation.

As a farewell, you lean down to kiss their temples, your heart swelling with love for them and their adorable antics. You’ve been blessed with the sweetest boys on earth! “Good. Have fun packing, you two.” As you leave the room, Sirius and Regulus’ vocalised animation for what’s ahead fades into the background. You hear that they’ve decided to help each other pack, starting with Sirius’ things — they believe that they might be able to piece together what you have planned for them through the list, which makes you giggle. Would they be able to deduce such a thing? This was a big surprise, after all. 

A spark of hope lights up within your chest, warming you up from the inside out. This Yule will be different, you’ll make sure of it. It’ll be different for them, for you, for all of you. There isn’t a trace of guilt or regret in your veins as you go through the list of events you have planned. You will create and share precious memories together — this will be a holiday to remember!  

24th December, 1971 | Yule Soiree, VIP Room 

The soiree is a glittering affair, an event dripping with such opulence that the induced propriety was suffocating, even to those accustomed to the affluence, but they did not show it. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen waterfalls, suspended in the air high above, alight with enchanted candles that never shortened, shining brighter than the muggle sort and emitting enthralling prisms of light. Expensive perfumes smothered the air in their thickness and polite conversation weaved through the palpable tension between some families. For the room to be considered the dignitary sort, set aside for the Sacred Twenty-Eight families, it wasn’t very remarkable aside from its adornment, credited to those in the staff who helped decorate. There was a designated area for quiet murmurings and another area for sharp laughter and even sharper smiles accompanying frivolous chatter. 

You manage to navigate the room with practised ease, your posture regal and expression composed, but your heart aches for a simpler affair, one filled with warmth — if not for you, then for your boys. Pity throbbed within the depths of your chest as you looked upon their grim features, they didn’t look like your sons; your boys were spritely and smiling, carefree and talkative but these two were not like that at all. Rather, they were stiff, their small shoulders straight with tension and their lips sealed shut, offering tight-lipped smiles to those who greeted you before eventually greeting them. Earlier on, you had asked Alphard if he would be attending the soiree too but was downhearted to find that he had some last-minute business at the office to deal with and that he wouldn’t be able to make it. The original Walburga grumbled in your head over her younger brother’s undistinguished behaviour, wanting to reprimand him for his lack of commitment to tradition but you quickly stamp out her unreasonable complaints by harassing her right back and threatening to whisk Sirius and Regulus away prematurely. That shut her right up.

From a distance, you spot three sisters comfortably chatting near the grand fireplace, their heads bent together to hear one another clearly amongst the chatter muffling the air. All three share the same black locks and pale complexion but adorn different demeanours and manner of dress for the holidays. “Are those your cousins, dears?” you ask in a whisper, leaning down slightly so you can be better heard by both children. 

“Yep,” Sirius confirms as Regulus nods from beside him. 

“Alright.” you take a moment to ponder on what to do next, “Do you both mind if I take a moment to speak with them? I’ll try to be quick,” the brothers share a brief look before nodding in unison. “Thank you, my loves. Try to occupy yourselves in the meantime okay?” As you approach the three sisters, Sirius and Regulus make their way to the food and beverages, not wanting to stand by their father even in your absence. 

Once you’re close enough, the girls spot you in their periphery and turn as a group to greet you appropriately. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and wariness as they wondered what the matriarch of House Black would want with them and without the patriarch beside her. It was odd to see you and Orion separately and even more odd was to see you without Sirius and Regulus at your sides; it was a known fact that you, as the matriarch kept an invisible leash on all three, maintaining the puppeteer of all behind the scenes.  

“Lady Black, good afternoon.” A sister greets you, her black hair fashioned into tight curls as her eyes hold a depth to them like that of a black hole. She is slightly taller than the other two and stands in the centre, subconsciously marking her as the eldest. You hazard a guess that this was Bellatrix, “You look different today,”  

With a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, you reply, catching all three off guard as you’re not usually the type to smile. “As do you, Bellatrix… ” She doesn’t protest, so your deduction to her identity was correct. All of you have grown so much since I last saw you properly. You’re all so lovely for the Yule soiree today.”

Andromeda’s eyes soften while Narcissa remains impassive though you can see a flicker of some emotion in her eyes. Was she secretly flattered by your compliment? Bellatrix, however, narrows her eyes in scrutiny and confusion all at once. “Rumours say you’ve been acting strangely.” She leaves the air open for you to either confirm or deny her claim. The three had been able to see the affectionate way you acted towards Sirius and Regulus in the time you stepped into the celebration together, and it’s clear that they aren’t the only ones shocked by your drastic change in behaviour. 

“Is that so bad?” you watch carefully and patiently as Bellatrix mulls over your comment for a while. No one has outright dubbed your mannerisms unsuitable, and as the matriarch of the noble and most ancient house of Black, surely you have every right to act the way you deem most appropriate. Bellatrix can’t fault you for that so she concedes, she admires you, after all, so if you are acting this way, it’s for good reason. 

“I suppose not…” your smile finally reaches your eyes and the three sisters welcome your stunning visage. Rumours from your drop-off and eventual collection of Sirius at King’s Cross station have made its rounds and many praised your radiant smile. Now, not only are you the prestigious lady matriarch of House Black but you’re one who radiates beauty with a simple smile. They secretly consider themselves lucky to have experienced your beauty in person, they truly didn’t know what to believe, at first with the rumours, but they quite like them thus far. 

Now that Bellatrix’s suspicions have been dealt with, you focus instead on the warmth you want to convey. Something you had intended to commit from your detrimental notations for future events. “If any of you ever need anything—anything at all—I’ll be there for you. Within reason, of course. All you have to do is ask or send a letter. We’re family, after all.” The three sisters’ eyes widen in unison, even demure and poised Narcissa. Andromneda’s breath hitches and there’s a wildness that swamps her eyes momentarily. 

“…Even for arranged marriages?…” Andromeda, the one who looks the most similar to Bellatrix comments, her dark curls are looser and her eyes are shaped less fiercely. With a snarl, Bellatrix nudges her twin sharply with an elbow whilst Narcissa gives an almost saddened look. 

“Andy!” Bellatrix hisses in a warning tone.

You freeze up, trying to comprehend her words as quickly as you can — if you pause for longer than normal, they’ll only grow suspicious of you; you should already know their world after all so nothing should surprise you to this extent. After a moment, your heart sinks in realisation and a sad softness floods your gaze.

“Your marriage is already arranged?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Bellatrix straightens and lifts her chin, stepping forward to partially shield her sisters. “Yes. And so is mine. I am set to marry Rodolphus Lestrange after I graduate. Andromeda will follow soon after, as she’s the younger twin. I will have an Autumn wedding and she will have a Spring wedding.” Bellatrix turns to smirk at Andromeda, though you don’t think it’s out of malice; her words didn’t ring maliciously to you, only factually as if she’s already accepted her and her sister’s fate. Andromeda turns her gaze to the floor and hugs herself for comfort whilst Narcissa steps closer, wanting to offer comfort in her own way.

“Do you want to marry Rodolphus, Bella?” you ask gently. Bellatrix blinks, her eyes wide with confusion as she’s momentarily thrown by the use of her nickname — only her sisters call her intimately yet you say it so naturally. Did you mean to call her by such an affectionate nickname or was it just a slip of the tongue? 

“It’s what’s expected of me,” she says in a dismissive tone, finally overcoming her slight surprise. “It’s our duty to carry on the purity of our blood.”

You accept the eldest sister’s answer with a slow nod before turning to the middle sister. “And you, Andy?” the child is just as shocked by your use of her nickname but, with some hesitation, eventually looks up at your soft and welcoming gaze. “Do you know who you’ll be marrying? Do you want to marry him?”

Andromeda shakes her head with a troubled expression. Even before this, it was clear from her body language alone that she was unwilling to accept her circumstances. “No…”

Bellatrix huffs at her sister’s side and pins her with a sharp glare before hissing out. “That’s because you’re being too picky, Andy. Do you know how upset Mother and Father are getting with you?”

“I know…” Andromeda sighs but doesn’t look as guilty as she should, in Bellatrix’s opinion, making her huff once more while Narcissa moves to stand between them as a silent mediator. “Mother and Father have been… difficult to talk to about these matters. One of the suitors they had picked out for me was over ten years my senior.” You suppress a shudder as your stomach churns at the dreadful thought. How could a parent submit their young daughter to such a fate? 

“…My offer stands,” leaning forward, you meet each of their eyes individually, emphasising your words. And, although your voice is stern, your gaze is warm and comforting, and you hope they can see the sincerity in it. “If you need anything, I’ll be there to help you as best as I can. All you need to do is ask.” The three sisters nod in unison but Andromeda’s eyes linger on you, unable to let go of the implication in your words. For once, she feels hopeful as she remembers her beloved Ted. You can see the wheels turning in her mind, and you wonder if she’s thinking of someone in particular — you have to hold back a smile when you realise she’s probably thinking of Edward Tonks. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The VIP room feels much colder now, and the air weighs heavily with unspoken words over your unusual behaviour. There have also been hushed whispers floating about—whispers of the Dark Lord and alliances forming in the shadows over the misinformed need to rebel against the acceptance of muggle witches and wizards entering their secret society of magic—making your stomach churn. The divide between the blood purists and the rest of the wizarding world was growing and growing; it had grown so much that it was palpable even in what was supposed to be a festive gathering. But you do your best to ignore the whispers and the stone of dread in your stomach, instead choosing to focus on finding Sirius and Regulus again. Glancing around, you spot them near the edge of the room leaning into each other. It appears as though they were looking for someone too, their expressions a mix of frustration and worry. You gather that they are looking for you and quickly make your way over to them, where you have the pleasure of seeing their adorable reactions as soon as they spot you in the crowd, your heart softening at the sight of your boys’ adorable faces brightening at your appearance. 

“Mother, there you are,” Sirius steps up to greet you once you're close enough, Regulus following closely at his side so that they can embrace you for a brief moment. 

“I’m happy to see you boys again, did I take too long?” Regulus shakes his head and presses his face into the folds of your long, emerald green dress. His actions make your brows furrow with concern and you meet Sirius’ gaze questioningly but your eldest seems to have the same downhearted expression on his face too. “What’s the matter, my loves?” 

“We’ve been looking for Uncle Alphard,” Sirius runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, his eyes darting about the room as he tries to find his favourite uncle once more, “We didn’t want to miss him because you said we’d be going away soon. But we can’t find him anywhere.” 

With a sigh, your expression softens with understanding, and your hand comes up to comfortingly pet Regulus’ hair, his face still buried in your skirt. He had been so excited to see the reunion between his uncle and Sirius; he desperately wanted his brother to know that there were more people, other than him and their mother, supporting him despite his sorting into Gryffindor. “I’m afraid your uncle had to work late at the office. He sends his apologies.” That doesn’t seem to help ease the boys’ sadness, so you allow them a slight peek into their holiday surprise, “He promises that he’ll see you both soon, though.” 

“But— didn’t he say he’d be here?…” Regulus pouts up at you, finally lifting his face off of your skirt. 

“I know, darling,” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But duty calls, even during the holidays. Now, how about we leave this dreary room and head downstairs? The music is livelier, and the atmosphere is much warmer.” 

Sirius perked up at the suggestion, his grin returning as he nudged Regulus beside him encouragingly. “Finally, something fun. Come on, Reggie, let’s go.” the two walked ahead of you, though it was clear that Sirius wanted to run and pull Regulus along behind him, his nerves very obviously vibrating with excitement —you were glad for his restraint, however, and smiled in adoration at the brothers’ very sweet, very ordinary appearance from behind. 

The grand staircase led you down to the lower floor that buzzed with life. Laughter, chatter, and the festive tunes of a wizarding band filled the air, colouring the expansive room with much brighter colours than that of the upper floor you were earlier confined to. Wizarding families of different backgrounds mingled impartially and freely, their joys, infectious, and their movements, unburdened by the weight of blood purity or social standing. The live band at one end of the ballroom plays a lively tune whilst couples dance with abandon at the centre, people were free to join in or step out of the dance whenever they wanted. It was a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the VIP room above, where the so-called elite sat in rigid clusters, their conversations hushed and their expressions guarded — this was what a true Yule celebration should feel like. Even with Walburga shouting like a possessed banshee in the back of your head, you have no regrets and plan on whiffing the smelling salts in your pocket as soon as possible. You weren’t about to faint on your boys and bring any amount of distress onto them so you’ve come prepared. 

The energy of the lower floor greeted the three of you like a warm embrace as you stepped down the final few steps. From your elevated perch on the steps moments ago, Sirius had quickly spotted a familiar figure across the room: another boy who was similar to him in age, sporting messy black hair, round glasses and an infectious, unmistakable grin.

“James!” Sirius calls with an enthusiastic wave. He calls his friend’s name several times before his voice manages to carry over the crowds and the music, prompting the messy-haired lad to finally turn and meet his close friend’s eyes, “Over here!”

As soon as James saw Sirius across the hall, his face lit up with a charming grin. He lifts a hand to wave your small family over to where he proudly stands with his parents. Sirius didn’t hesitate to push ahead as shy Regulus clutched onto your hand, staying back with you, despite meeting James briefly at King’s Cross, it appears as though he can’t quite get over his shyness yet. As Sirius neared the Potters, your heart warmed and raced; Fleamont and Euphemia were the perfect picture of benevolence, adding to their grace as they smiled, sincerely welcoming Sirius in return.

“Sirius, I didn’t know you were here!” James exclaimed, clapping his friend on the back once he was close enough. Sirius grinned widely in return and squeezed James with equal affection around the shoulders, “Mum, Dad, this is Sirius, my friend from Hogwarts. I’ve told you about him!”

Fleamont extended a hand to shake as his eyes twinkled under the chandeliers. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Fleamont, or Monty, whichever you prefer.”

Sirius shook his hand with a look of mischief in his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Monty, my man!” Your son’s cheekiness couldn’t be ignored, and Fleamont threw his head back with a laugh, welcoming him as James’ friend with open arms. 

Equally charmed, Euphemia stepped forward to give her greeting with a radiant smile. “I’m Euphemia, but you can call me Mia. Our Jamie has told us so much about you; it’s good to finally put a name to the face.” Rather than a handshake like her husband, she crouches down and pulls Sirius into a brief but warm hug. You can see the brief surprise and delight on Sirius’ face before he melts into her embrace with a warm grin. Sirius likens the feeling to the same one he feels whenever you hug him affectionately—of course, his mother’s hugs will forever be the best but he happily accepts the small comfort he finds in James’ mother too.

“So, how are your holidays so far?” James asked, his enthusiasm undimmed.

“Great!” Sirius replied with a similar enthusiasm, the image in his head only consisting of you and Regulus “Mother and Reg are here with me. Father’s up in the VIP room with the snobs.”

“Your mother, you say?” Euphemia’s eyes widened in surprise, and she exchanged a glance with her husband. Both turn just in time to see you approach them with Regulus at your side, their surprise still evident on their faces. You could see the wheels turning in their minds—the woman before them was not the cold, distant matriarch they had imagined. This can only mean that they didn’t hallucinate your friendly figure when they had gone to pick up James at Kings Cross Station. 

“Yeah! I’ll introduce you.” Sirius’ chest puffs out slightly as he gestures to you first, then Regulus, “Everyone, meet my mother and my little brother, Regulus.”

“Hello,” Regulus reaches out to shake the Potter couple’s hands before waving at James, who brings him into a friendly, one-armed hug over the shoulder. Sirius snickers beside them for a moment and quickly joins in the hug too, he loves seeing his brother get along with his close friend; he can only imagine how well Regulus would get along with Remus or Peter!

With a warm smile, you extend a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon. A pleasure to meet you both,” you shake Fleamont’s hand first before shaking Euphemia’s. You then turn to James, your smile ever soft and kind. “And it’s so good to see you again, James.”

James grinned. “You too, my lady.” he bows at the waist as you giggle and Sirius rolls his eyes, tempted to smack his friend over the head, “It’s good to see you in something other than black.”

“James!” Euphemia scolds with a wave of her finger.

Rather than the scowl of offence they were expecting you to wear, however, you laugh lightly and briefly play with the skirt of your dress. “Why, thank you. I suppose you could say the holiday season has gotten to me.” 

Euphemia stares in shock at you, so surprised by your change in demeanour that she couldn’t hold her tongue and agrees, “Indeed…” Embarrassed, Euphemia covers her mouth as Fleamont laughs heartily, pulling his wife close by her waist — a small gesture of comfort.

“There’s a special type of magic that goes around for the holidays,” The Potter patriarch says with a warm, understanding voice. 

Your small group falls into easy conversation after the tension was thoroughly melted away by introductions. There’s talk of the boys’ achievements at school, Regulus’ eagerness to join his older brother in the next academic year, the struggles of parenting such rambunctious youths followed by whining protests, and many more. Eventually, James drags your boys off to the food tables, promising them the best mini treacle tarts they’d ever tasted, and he should know, as a primary lover of the sweet treat. Regulus hesitated at first, glancing back at you for reassurance and relaxed when you gave him a small nod.

“Bring me back something tasty, darling,” you politely ask with an encouraging smile.

“Something salty or something sweet, Mother?” his voice is soft and dripping with consideration, ever the attentive type.

“Hmm… why don’t you pick?” Regulus nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips before dashing off to catch up with his brother and James. With the boys gone, you turned to the Potter couple with a question on your tongue. “Fleamont, Euphemia—”

“—Monty is fine,” Fleamont interrupted kindly.

“And just Mia is perfect for me too,” Euphemia added kindly. They were now able to tell for themselves that you weren’t the type of person they originally thought you were and it was a comfort; they found that any friend of their beloved son, they easily see as one of their own so it was a comfort to know that Sirius had you as his mother. 

Surprised by their willingness to be familiar with you, you take a moment to process what they’ve said before nodding, your cheeks heating up slightly from the prolonged pause you had taken. “Of course, thank you Monty, Mia…” The couple’s smiles brighten at your use of their nicknames, “So, for the holidays, I planned a surprise for my boys: a little getaway from our city home. I was wondering if we could organise some sort of playdate, where James could come over along with Sirius’s other friends for a day or two — the two of you are perfectly free to attend as well.”

Fleamont’s eyes light up in an instant. “That sounds good to me. I’m sure James would appreciate spending time with friends outside of school.” As Fleamont laughs cheerily his wife nods in agreement, their eyes sparkling with equal excitement.

“It would be nice to get out of the house too. Is it okay for us to spend the day with you as well?”

“Of course! Honestly, it would be preferred.” You’re quick to reassure her but pull a rather sheepish look, “I don’t think I’m ready to monitor five rambunctious teens by myself.”

“Won’t Orion be with you?” Fleamont asks curiously. 

“I’m afraid he has other important matters to attend to.” The Potters exchanged a concerned glance but said nothing and followed your lead on ignoring the subject altogether. Their smiles quickly returned as they agreed to your invitation. 

“We’d be happy to attend!” Euphemia perks up, “Do you already have a date in mind?”

“I was thinking a weekend but not Yule, that is a day for families; so the weekend after that. On the first or second of January would be ideal.

“Done.” Fleamont shares a smile with his wife. 

“We should be careful that the boys don’t try to convince us to have a sleepover,” Euphemia laughs as you and her husband join in. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they do. From the letters James sent home, they’re a rather troublesome bunch.” Prompted by her husband, Euphemia combs her fingers through his messy locks as she straightens her back, appearing to look for something through Fleamont’s locks. 

“Still no grey hairs, darling, you’re not to worry.”

“So cheeky,” Fleamont rolls his eyes at his wife, who just giggles and cuddles into his side. Their exchange is adorable and sweet, and pulls a fond smile onto your lips.

“It’s settled then; I’ll be sending you an owl closer to the time as a sort of formal invitation. You can easily use the floo network to get there, I’ll provide instructions in the letter I send you. Oh and please try to keep the date a secret, I want the whole thing to remain a surprise for the boys.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Euphemia agrees as  Fleamont smiles lovingly at his wife’s obvious excitement. 

“Of course! I can’t wait for the day!

“I’ll make sure to be a good host,”

When the boys finally return, Regulus proudly presents you with a sweet treat, while Sirius hands you something savoury. You sample both equally, your expression brightening with delight at their delicious choices for you. “Thank you, my darlings. Both were very tasty!” after wiping your lips with a small handkerchief, you kiss each of them on the forehead to which they beamed up at you with radiant smiles.

Watching the exchange, James’ expression becomes almost shy as he looks up at his mother, who gives him a questioning look. “Why are you looking at me like that, Jamie?…” 

“Nothin’.”

“It’s because I wasn’t given something yummy that you don’t get to have a kiss~” She giggles as James blushes, dashing off for a quick moment before coming back with a treacle tart for his mother. Finally, Mia kneels down and gives him a kiss in thanks, giggling as her husband chuckles behind his hand. 

“I told you you should have got it the first time, you plonker,” Sirius teased, and James groaned, his cheeks flushing.

“Shut up, Sirius,” 

As the afternoon grew a little older, you were dragged onto the central floor by Sirius and Regulus, who planned on sharing a dance with you together. All three of you joined hands and improvised a three-person waltz as best as you could to the festive music. The entire time, your cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling — to think that your boys could get any more precious. You questioned why they were both dancing with you at once rather than separately, and their answer was said in such an obvious tone that it made you think that they didn’t argue for long on the topic, deeming the compromise as the perfect solution. 

“We couldn’t decide who got to dance with you first. So we’re dancing the first dance with you, together!” They’re too sweet! 

Several dances later, you were finally gathering the boys to say their goodbyes. First were to the Potter family, who wished you all well for the holidays, and you, them. Then, you ascended back to the VIP room, where Orion remained engrossed in conversation with the other purist families. While you voiced your goodbye to your husband, the boys gave curt goodbyes to all of their cousins except Andromeda, who received the warmest goodbye — she was very obviously their favourite for her kind and understanding nature. When it came to saying goodbye to their father, however, the boys hesitated. You had already moved on to bidding farewell to other patriarchs, matriarchs and cousins, so you weren’t there to see their attempts to bid their father goodbye. Each time, they were met with a dismissive wave, pushing them away more and more.

“Come on Reggie,” Sirius huffs under his breath, glaring at his father from under the stray whips of curls that had fallen over his eyes, “Mother is waiting for us.” Sirius leads the way to where you stand by the VIP room’s exit.

“But—! We didn’t say goodbye to father—” 

“Why does it matter? He doesn’t care anyway!” 

When they finally reach you, their sadness dissipates from the sight of your radiant smile. “Did you say goodbye to your father?”

The two nod with guarded expressions thinly veiled by a smile before you move to urge them to the exit, “Then let’s be off.”

Together, you collected your coats and stepped into the fireplace. With a small countdown, you all simultaneously threw down the powder as you called out the clear destination. “Astrolite Hall!” Green flames engulf your small trio in an instant, and, moments later, you emerge to find yourselves standing in the grand sitting area of a breathtaking countryside estate nestled in the Yorkshire Dales. The boys gasp, their eyes wide with wonder as they take in the establishment around them. They weren’t very familiar with the other Black family estates outside of their city home and the few dotted around France so this was a pleasant surprise, a new adventure. At this new thrill, their earlier displeasure with their father is easily forgotten. Taking in their precious expressions, your heart swells with love.

The manor was breathtaking—a sprawling countryside estate that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, casting golden beams across the polished antique furniture. Through the windows, you could glimpse the gorgeous greenery outside, symmetrical, well-kept and lush despite the winter season, there was even a fountain at the centre. The air smelled unfamiliar but pleasant with a touch of tuberose and amber, a welcome change from the cramped atmosphere of Grimmauld Place, though you do miss the touches of dried lavender you and Regulus littered about the house.

“Welcome, my darlings,” you softly announce, leading them inside.

Sirius was the first to break the silence, his voice ringing with awe as his eyes took in the manor. “Blimey, Mother, this place is massive!”

“Yeah!” Regulus rolls on the balls of his feet beside his brother with equal enthusiasm. Both were as charged with energy as the other, feeding off one another’s excitement and vigour as their wide eyes took in the grandeur of the parlour. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate carvings, and a crystal chandelier hung above them, one that looked even more extravagant than the ones they saw at the soiree. Their incontestable joys were infectious but you did your best to temper your own excitement as much as possible, settling for a calm smile so that there was a balance of emotions in the positively charged atmosphere.

“This place is called Astrolite Hall, and I don’t think we’ve been here before,” you inform them helpfully shrugging off your heavy coat to hang on the back of an antique grandfather chair. “But it’s going to be our home for the holidays. What do you think?”

“It’s brilliant!” Sirius exclaimed, eager to dart off and explore. Regulus was more for a moment, glancing up at you briefly, before looking to his brother with a smile — you don’t know if he wanted to silently apologise for his uncharacteristic zest or seek brief assurance from your body language. You can tell that they were keen to scout out the new space, they were like racehorses eagerly awaiting the horn and the opening of the gates to launch them into competition. 

“Why don’t you two pick out your bedrooms upstairs? Once you’ve decided, I’ll un-shrink your luggage, we can unpack and then you can explore to your heart’s content.” 

Loving the idea, Sirius and Regulus zip up the grand staircase, their footfalls muffled by the thick carpet as you follow close behind, gigging into your palm as you lift the skirt of your dress to better traverse the stairs. By the time you got to the upper floor, they had already chosen their rooms, indicated by the doors they had left open for you to peek into. You weren’t surprised that they chose rooms that were right beside each other, but it still made you smile at the close bond that they have with each other; they deserve to have a close sibling relationship, and it warmed your heart to see it’s open display. 

“Is this the room you want?” you ask, pulling Sirius’ luggage out of your pockets. From where he lay sprawled over the large, king-sized bed, Sirius launched himself into a sitting position and nodded with much enthusiasm, his curls bouncing up and down with the movement. 

“My room is the next one over, Mother,” Regulus announces, grinning widely at you as he sits up with his brother. It looked as though they were making snow angels from the bedsheets, their excitement making them forget their usual manners. But you were happy to see them having fun so you don’t fuss about it the same way Walburga was shrieking up a storm in the back of your mind. Once you had deducted who’s room was who’s, you approached and un-shrunk their luggage with a wave of your wand — you love magic so much; it made things so convenient for you.  

“Which room will you pick?” Sirius asked as he jumped down to begin unpacking. 

“I think that one will do,” you announce, standing in the doorway and pointing at the room directly across from theirs, this made the boys grin in delight as they secretly cheered that Orion wasn’t there to ruin the mood. So as to not waste any more time, Regulus hurries to his room so that he can unpack as well. 

“Once you unpack, you can explore the estate as much as you like but try to make it downstairs in the sitting room by 5 pm, please; I have a special task I need you two to help me with.”

“What sort of task?” Sirius asks with curiosity as Regulus appears in his doorway with an equally curious look. The two watch as you elegantly walk to your room to unpack your bags too. 

“A fun task,” you replied, looking over your shoulder so they could see the giddy twinkle in your eyes.

Regulus’ pulls the sweetest most hopeful expression you could think of. “Really?”

“Yes! And we’re going to do it together while Kreacher cooks dinner in the kitchen.”

“Kreacher’s here?” Regulus lights up even more, like a Christmas tree.

“Of course,” you smile as your youngest vibrates with excitement, and Sirius laughs at his little brother’s obvious joy before poking fun at him teasingly. Regulus whines, expressing that he likes Kreacher so, of course, he’s excited, but you can see the fondness that remains in their eyes — they’re true siblings.

“But it feels a little stiff in these formal clothes,” you add, easily magicking your luggage’s contents into the appropriate storage compartments about your room, “Why don’t we change into our pyjamas for the rest of the day?”

Regulus frowned. “But it’s not nearly bedtime yet.”

Sirius rolls his eyes but grins brightly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be in our pyjamas! Come on, Reggie!” The two hurry to finish unpacking so they can change into their pyjamas while you change into your own as well, though it took you a little longer than anticipated.

“Have fun exploring boys, see you downstairs!” you call, finally walking out of your room and down the hall to descend the stairs in your ankle-length, white-cotton sleep dress with long sleeves. Despite the cold temperatures outside, the estate was the perfect climate, even the carpeted floors were heated as you walked about in your socks.

“See you later!” The boys call back in unison.

When you meet with Kreacher in the kitchen, the boys were already causing a storm upstairs, though you didn’t quite mind; it was nice to have a lively atmosphere about a home for once. With Orion at Grimmauld Place, the air always felt a little stiff and dull so you’re glad the boys could finally act like children without any restraints. 

“The young masters be being very loud today,” Kreacher comments with a small smile as the two of you prepare the ingredients for dinner together.  

“Yes, they are. Doesn’t it sound lovely?” you ask but giggle when there’s a loud shout from upstairs (Sirius), quickly followed by a sharp ‘shush’ (Regulus) and then shared laughter.

“Very lovely the sound be, mistress!” Kreacher shares a smile with you before you both return to the task at hand, indulging in the music of cheer your two boys create upstairs. Tonight’s menu consisted of a comforting, slow-cooked beef with potatoes, carrots, peas, garlic, and onions in a hearty beef and red wine broth. With it, you have the options of garlic bread and, or mashed potatoes. 

“You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you, Kreacher?” it was a gentle request, one that you consistently make before every meal as you and the house elf work together to prepare something delicious. Your hope is that the holiday season will finally allow him to agree and dine with you. 

“N-no thank you, Mistress…” you sigh but don’t express any frustration or dismay, only acceptance as Kreacher looks up at you with a small, apologetic smile. At least he felt comfortable enough to reject your offer. “Big master Black will be wanting his dinner tonight too so Kreacher is busy.”  

“I understand,” you make a point of meeting his glassy eyes before expressing your gratitude sincerely, “thank you for working so hard for our family, Kreacher,”

“Mistress is welcome.” And at least he was comfortable accepting praise and saying ‘you’re welcome’, now too.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius and Regulus ran through the halls, their endless laughing echoing off the walls as they explored every nook and cranny of the large, unacquainted estate. The manor was everything you could dream of for the boys. There was a grand library with towering shelves filled with books and plush reading nooks; it was much larger than the one at Grimmauld Place. There was a games room filled with magical and Muggle board games (courtesy of you), a cosy reception area with a roaring fireplace, and a curving staircase that had a sturdy bannister to slide down. All the available bedrooms, of which there were six, had their own en suite bathrooms and balconies with equally scenic views all around. A beautiful, ergonomic study room was at the very end of the upper floor’s hall, with its own mini library, two large desks with drawers and golden emeralite bankers lamps. There was even a room full of paintings ranging from portraits to scenic views of the ocean or sloping fields. All of the paintings moved, and most of the portraits were of ancestral Black family members, who, unfortunately, had many unpleasant blood purity things to say, so Sirius and Regulus didn’t stay long to admire the gallery. 

Once the boys came downstairs, they slipped into the dining room, which was a masterpiece of elegance. It was primarily occupied by a long, polished table that could seat twenty. A sideboard took up space beneath the scenic painting hung on one side of the room, where inside its drawers were matching plates and bowls with analogous silverware. There were also antique china: teapots, cups and saucers, and a tiered dish tray for afternoon tea. Yes, the boys opened and searched every drawer and cabinet. The other side of the dining room had floor-to-ceiling glass walls that opened to a raised decking area so that there was an option for outdoor dining should the weather permit it.

Through the tall windows, the outside grounds were just as impressive. In the distance, there stood a large greenhouse that was bursting with colourful flora within. It was so large that the boys debated whether they could faintly see a spiralling staircase and mezzanine inside or not. There was also a sprawling porch area that overlooked a serene pond with many lily pads on the surface, surrounded by the well-kept gardens and it’s tall, topiary cone hedges and walls. To end their adventure, the boys returned to the sitting area they had first entered, touching every piece of furniture and clambering onto every place to sit before they admired the view outside. The greenery was identical to the one they had seen through the dining room windows, except there wasn’t a large greenhouse or a pond, but there was a beautiful fountain spouting water at the very centre of it all. 

“Did you have fun exploring?” you turn to face the boys who enter the kitchen with flushed cheeks as they softly panted. Looking about the space, they could tell that the kitchen was a chef’s dream, complete with a walk-in pantry stocked to the brim so that you may never grow hungry. The smell in the air was mouth-watering, and they could spot a stewing pot on the impressive gas stove bubbling away beneath its cover. Another pot of boiling potatoes sat beside it with a fork and a wooden spoon nearby to help check the potatoes’ tenderness. The ovens were also at work, it seemed, though they couldn’t quite make out what was inside. Dinner smelled delicious already, as usual. 

“It was so much fun!” They said in unison as you giggled. Undoing your apron, you step up to their buzzing figures with a smile, committed to hearing all about their explorations but they have other plans. In their barely contained excitement grab one of your hands each and tug you away pleadingly, asking about the special, fun task you had promised them earlier. Of course. How could you think that their sharp minds would forget such a promise?

“Let's go do that thing you needed our help with!”

“What is it anyway, Mother?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, it’s in the living room—” They begin to drag you away more earnestly but you stop them before they can pull you too far. “Hold on now,” you laugh and look over your shoulder at Kreacher, who was standing on a stool by the kitchen counter, preoccupied with the brief side-task you had given him earlier, “Why don’t we grab some snacks from Kreacher, first? Don’t forget your ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s.” Kreacher’s ears perked up at the mention of his name and he eagerly turned to brighten at the sight of his young masters’ fixed gazes on him, his long ears flapping in delight. 

“Can we have a small snack, please Kreacher?” Regulus begins as he and his elder brother step up to stand on either side of the house elf. 

“Are you preparing our snacks right now?” Sirius asks, peering over the counter to glimpse at what the house elf had been so preoccupied with. 

“Yes yes, eldest young master,” Kreacher eagerly cheered before looking a little sheepish, “Kreacher will be taking just a little bit more time with thems though, young masters.” his veiny hands shyly covers the finger sandwiches he had been assembling, embarrassed from their half-made state.

With a nod of understanding, you urge the boys to the pantry, “That’s alright Kreacher, it’ll give us time to make hot chocolate,” your comment makes Sirius snap his attention towards you, eyes bright — making hot chocolate together was something James had mentioned that he and his family did every night during the Yule holidays. Would he get to partake in the same cosy ritual with his own happy family? “Oh! Are you excited, Siri?” you softly coo, tenderly poking his cheek with a teasing grin as Regulus snickered at your other side. 

“H-how are we making the hot chocolate, Mother?” Sirius diverts the topic, wanting to get the attention off him and focus on the hot chocolate. Thankfully, you follow his lead with grace. 

“We’re making it on the stove but we need to get the ingredients first,” working together, you gather up the ingredients and melt chocolate blocks into a pot with four mug-fuls of full-cream milk. While Sirius carefully stirs the softly bubbling, chocolatey liquid, you and Regulus whip up the cream to go on top together. Each person was allowed to assemble their own hot chocolate after you poured a portion into the four mugs (the last being for Kreacher). You made yours the way you liked before looking over to see how everyone liked theirs. Sirius had a mountain of fluffy, whipped cream on his with chocolate shavings on top. Regulus liked his hot chocolate with a reasonable amount of whipped cream and mini marshmallows. When presented with his own festive mug of hot chocolate to assemble, Kreacher didn’t care for the whipped cream but went crazy over the mini marshmallows, which made all of you giggle. 

Now that everything was complete, Kreacher snapped his fingers to quickly assemble the freshly baked cookies and finger sandwiches onto decorated tea plates atop a wooden tray, leaving room for coasters so that you had a place to put your hot chocolate mugs on. “Thank you, Kreacher,” you voice kindly, taking the wooden tray into your hands from where it was suspended mid-air before Sirius and Regulus soon followed you with their gratitudes. 

“Thanks, Kreacher!”

“Thank you so much, Kreacher!”

“Mistress and the young masters a-are welcome…” Kreacher hides his shyness in his mug of hot chocolate, his droopy ears tinted an adorable pink at the tips. 

“Feel free to join us in the living room, Kreacher, the more the merrier!” you call behind you, stepping out of the kitchen and making your way to the living room as Regulus and Sirius hold the doors open for you. 

As soon as you made it to the living room, you set down the tray of snacks and hot chocolate on the coffee table before waving your wand to reveal your surprise: the hidden Christmas tree. The proud, bushy Douglas fir tree stood in the corner, tall and full but undecorated, occupying the space with its lush branches, and almost reached the high ceiling. Earlier, you had asked Kreacher to enchant the tree with a preservation charm just for the holidays so that the boys don’t have to see the fir shedding its needles, with ease, Kreacher did just that with a snap of his fingers. 

Eying the tall fir’s barren appearance, Sirius is reminded of the marvellous way December began for him, where he and his close friends saw Hagrid dragging the giant Christmas tree into Hogwarts’ main hall. Once magicked upright, all the professors extravagantly decorated it, leaving behind the most beautiful tree he had ever laid eyes on. Sirius was surrounded by magic since birth but seeing the tree get decorated so beautifully was the most magical thing he had ever witnessed.

Sirius’ expression dropped into a frown, disappointed that this tree may remain the same bare and joyless tree they’d had for every Yule growing up. If only his family’s tree could look a fraction similar to the tree at Hogwarts. “It looks a little dull, Mother.” 

“Dull?” Sirius snaps his attention to Regulus, only just realising what he had said aloud. “Isn’t it usually like that?”

Your heart broke at your youngest’s genuine confusion and the implication of his innocent words. It makes you want to lash out at the poor excuse of a mother sequestered in the back of your mind but your priority will always be your boys first so you steady your smile, instead, watching the two interact as you lift your wand once more behind them. Without them noticing, you manage to nudge a heavy box into view. 

“You should see the giant tree they put up in the main hall at Hogwarts,” Sirius’ voice is filled with awe and there’s a thrill behind it that makes you believe he’d stop at nothing to show his little brother the grandly decorated tree he had witnessed. “It’s beautiful, Reggie.”

“And our tree is going to look equally beautiful with all the decorations we put on it,” you announce, grinning at their wonder-filled expressions before directing their attention to an innocuous box at the side of the tree. The boys waste no time rushing to it, their eyes widening as soon as they see the beautiful ornaments inside. There were shiny baubles of all different shapes, delicate glass figurines, and strings of golden tinsel. The common theme of colours were gold, silver, red and green.

Sirius looks up at you with a hopeful expression as Regulus brings out a string of tinsel to play with. “Are we… are we decorating the tree together, Mother?”

“Of course we are, my love.”

Sirius’ chest swells with warmth and launches himself at you without a second thought, hugging you around the waist as he buries his bright grin into the cotton of your night dress. This was his second wish for the holidays that had come true, first the hot chocolate, now tree decorating with the family. Regulus, though quieter and still awing over the glittering tinsil, looked equally thrilled, his hands now reaching for the beautiful ornaments.

“Our tree is going to be the most beautiful tree ever!” Sirius cheers, digging for the ornaments that he finds are the most aesthetically pleasing before rushing to hang them on the fir tree’s needles, “Come on Reggie!” Regulus hops up beside his brother and happily lays the tinsel on the green branches with a happy cheer. To set the mood properly, you approach the gramophone on a side table and begin to play a Christmas album.

As you decorate the tree together, Kreacher eventually joins you and, with him, you enchant the candles to prevent any fire hazards before fixing them onto the tree and setting them alight. There was a small ladder at hand for you and the boys to utilise so that you could reach higher up the tree, but you left the climbing to the boys, choosing to remain at the foot of the ladder, instead, to hold it steady and catch them if they ever toppled over. On occasion, you would all partake in a small snack and drink break, the boys happily gulping down their hot chocolate before it has the chance to cool down. However, in their eagerness, they were left with melted cream above their upper lips, sending everyone into a fit of giggles. Everyone managed to, at least, acquire a white moustache throughout the evening. 

Laughter, the soft clinking of ornaments, and softly playing Christmas songs never allowed the room to grow quiet. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were together, happy and carefree, creating precious memories that would last you a lifetime.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 11 : PLAYDATE →

A/N : this was a pretty long one, i'm so sorry my loves but i hope you enjoy the read! i'm also really sorry that it's come out so late, life has been really busy for me recently and i have a lot of things going on at once, i hope you understand.

i also want to announce that this series will be going on HIATUS as i want to take the time to thoroughly plan future chapters and plot points, i also want to focus on other writing projects i plan on releasing this year. and, i hate to admit it but DOB has grown a little exhausting to keep up with because of everything going on currently and i don't want to push updates to the point of burnout as that'll risk me abandoning the series altogether and i intend to finish it.