Written for Ilvermorny, New Beginnings event.

Prompt: Japanese traditions. (Write about Sirius and Regulus Black in Grimmauld Place living as teenagers or as children.)

January 1st, 1996

It all started out well enough.

Every year they would celebrate the holidays together: Regulus and Sirius dressing up for Halloween in matching costumes, Regulus and Sirius making (and burning) the pies at Thanksgiving, Regulus and Sirius decorating the Christmas tree together.

So where did it all go wrong?

Sirius reflected back.

December 31st, 1968

Eight-year-old Sirius Black grinned at his younger brother. "Make a resolution, Reggie! It's tradition!"

Seven-year-old Regulus put a finger to the dimple on his chin. "I resolute that we'll always be best friends!" He declared in his high, childish voice.

Their mother, Walburga, sniffed imperiously. "Regulus, it's resolve; not resolute. You resolve to always be best friends. And you are already brothers. Is that not enough?"

"No!" Regulus shook his head, black curls flying every which way. "Siri and I are brothers, but we'll always, always be best friends."

Sirius smiled and gave his brother a bear-hug.

Everything was as it should be.

December 24th, 1972

"Ever since you've started hanging out with those snakes, you've been acting less and less like my baby brother!" Sirius exclaimed. The brothers were home on Christmas vacation...and hadn't stopped arguing since.

"They're my Housemates!" Regulus protested. "And, besides — not only have I not been your baby brother for a long time, you haven't been acting anything like a big brother should. You haven't spent time with me for months!"

Sirius scowled. "That's because you spend too much time with your Housemates," he sneered the word, "to even remember that you have a brother! It's not my fault I was Sorted into Gryffindor!"

Regulus scoffed. "I spend time with my Housemates because my brother spends time with his friends, leaving me to wonder how I'm even related to him!"

"Well, maybe I don't want you to be related to me!"

Regulus hid his emotions. "Fine."

Sirius threw up his hands. "Fine!"

The brothers crossed their arms, glared at one another, and turned opposite directions.

Happy Christmas.

July 4th, 1975

"Just what are these...things...on your walls?" Walburga asked, voice rich with distaste, her nose stuck high in the air. Sirius wondered just how big the stick up her...

"They're girls, mother," he replied, trying to keep his tone respectful, humble, and yet at the same time with that Pureblood air. Goodness knew how many times he'd been smacked for not having enough of the above in his voice. "Muggle girls in bikinis on motorcycles, to be exact."

Walburga turned to her eldest son, face filled with rage. "You dare have posters with Mudbloods in these indecent swimming clothes on motorcycles in the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?! Get out! Get out of my house! Get out of my sight!"

She pointed her hand with its manicured red fingernails toward the door.

"Your father and I have tolerated your Muggle nonsense for as long as we can! You have broken every Pureblood rule in the book, you disrespect us and your other superiors, and you refuse to even be polite to your peers! What is wrong with you?"

Sirius glared at his mother. "Look, Walburga, I have had as much of your Pureblood shit as I can take." Walburga gasped at his profanity. "I can't do this anymore." He pointed his wand at his dresser, and things started flying out of it, folding nearly in midair and into a suitcase that he levitated out of his closet.

He watched impassively as Walburga sputtered. Sirius was almost positive she had expected him to argue with her, refusing to leave.

Not this time.

He was done.

Sirius picked up the suitcase and strode out of his room. Regulus opened his door and watched as his fifteen-year-old brother walked out the front door.

Sirius called back over his shoulder, "Oh, by the way — have fun unsticking those pictures!"

The door slammed shut.

Happy Independence Day, indeed!

January 1st, 1996

Sirius sighed.

Regulus was long gone. Dead from following the craziest man alive. Sirius may have found his younger brother irritating at times (oh, who was he kidding? All the time!), but he had never wished death upon him. Just another reason why he hated Voldemort.

Orion was dead. Died from a Muggle disease: pneumonia. Sirius found that ironic.

Walburga had died shortly after her husband. Some sort of stroke.

And now all he had to fight for was, oh...just the rest of the whole freakin' world!

No big deal, right?

And Sirius resolved to make it the best fight he ever won.