Note: Written by both tonberrys and kuchikopi
The Black family maisonette was bedecked with Christmas cheer, but it was the peace found in a hop across the Channel that seemed to loosen the holiday tensions. A niffler had invited itself to last year's family gathering, though their grandfather never admitted it was what the boys had spotted through the window, and Regulus wouldn't dare revisit the question. Most of their holidays had a mesh of calm and chaos, but for so many of those years, it was - for the most part - a familiar mix as Aunt Druella strung her live decorations or Aunt Cassiopeia's cats crawled into spaces they oughtn't be or Uncle Alphard told wine-enhanced stories of his time abroad.
This year, however, it was the Blacks of Grimmauld Place who were venturing beyond the bounds of Great Britain, leaving behind the company of extended family in favour of a parisian Christmas. Through the window, Regulus could see the bustling markets of wizarding Paris thrumming in a neighborhood adjacent to their own. Regulus thought he saw something large and white moving through a crack between two buildings, but even as he stood on his toes to crane a better look, he could not tell if he'd imagined it or not.
Regulus had never seen a unicorn in person before and knew well that their speed (if not the reverence bestowed upon them) was enough to spare them the indignity of domestication, so it could not logically be that, but he could not help but entertain the thought of some majestic unicorn clopping about the streets. At that, a little smile formed on his lips.
Sirius poked his head around the door, already dressed for the winter weather that amounted more to rain than snow. "They're going out," he announced without preamble.
Twisting around, Regulus took in his brother's wintery appearance, a certain measure of anticipation starting to rise as he thought about wandering out into the French Christmas scenery.
"Mum and Dad?" Regulus asked, though he really needn't when there was no other 'they' to refer to in the house, at present. Already, he was standing to go grab his own layers to pile on.
"No, your multitude of invisible friends." Sirius rolled his eyes with a slight shake of his head. "An opera or something equally terrible that Dad'll fall asleep at and claim was wonderful. I'll pass, thanks. There's got to be something better to do."
Regulus flicked his eyes down to the (contrarily sported Gryffindor) scarf wrapped snugly around his brother's neck, then up to his face again. Clearly, Sirius did not intend for that 'something better' to take place within the maisonette. "It looks like there are markets in the next neighborhood," he said, the suggestion hanging in his tone as he gestured toward the window.
Sirius' eyes flicked to the window, pacing in place on his feet in indecision. "It's got potential," he conceded. "Hurry up, if you're coming."
Regulus's eyes lit up as he nodded, careful to keep the rush of enthusiasm in check as he slipped out of the room to gather his winter warmth. Scarcely a minute had passed when Regulus appeared again, bundled in his own green and silver scarf, which hung loose over a black winter cloak as he exercised every bit of self control to stop himself from scampering up to Sirius. His brother was already standing at the front door, looking as if he was readying to walk out on his own, but even at twelve, Regulus refused the indignity of looking too excited about the trip.
"I'm ready," he announced as he reached his brother's side.
"Have you charmed your shoes? I'm not spending all night and day picking you up," Sirius asked, looking over him with a critical eye. "Assuming you're capable."
"I'm capable," Regulus countered with a little huff to his tone as he pulled his wand out of his pocket. In that moment, he wished he'd remembered to cast the charm before saying he was ready (to say it was already done might have proven the point of independence more effectively), but following a reminder was still better than stomping about with freezing wet feet.
Lifting up his right foot, Regulus cast an impervius charm first to that shoe, then to the other. Tipping his chin up and lifting his brow, he stuck his wand in his pocket again, and both hands buried in their respective cloak pockets as he looked to Sirius again. "Let's go."
"Impatient," Sirius scowled, but there was very little heat to it. There was very little heat anywhere, as they scurried down to the busy Christmas market.
Though snow had not been forecast and it was more flurries and slush, there were charms in the air, and the singing, swinging wooden figures at the opening were covered over their shoulders. In the middle, a large carousel took carved horses and small children around in a bobbing circle with fretting parents riding beside many of them. Sirius had little interest in the childish toys nor the booths of various ornaments and adornments. He declared them "boring" as he made a line straight for the games and activities instead, wanting to see what was available.
Behind him, Regulus paused. Raking his eyes over each booth and breathing in the aroma of sweet and savory snacks wafting from a section further down, the younger boy wove through the crowd in a half-baked attempt to keep up with his brother without actually spending much time looking at the back of his brother's head.
Off to the side, standing upon a slightly raised stage of sorts, a small group of children were singing what sounded to be Christmas carols, but in French. A smile spread wider on Regulus's face, and he tried to pick apart what they were saying without focusing too much on the familiar tune - more of a struggle, when Sirius was pulling further ahead, but he slowed nonetheless to focus. Before starting school at Hogwarts, he and his brother both had received language tutoring - a call back to their toujours pur French roots - and Regulus had taken the language to heart. Not many among his friends at school had done as much, only Evan with his own French Rosier roots, but however infrequent its use, he quite liked it.
The carolers' voices were clear like bells, some bright and some warm as they wove a harmonious tapestry to hang over the low rumble of voices around him. With a little smile, Regulus wrapped his arms around himself in a tight hug and tucked his hands for warmth.
As one carol gave way to another, Regulus glanced to the side again to find that his brother had moved well on without him, disappearing from sight somewhere in the general direction he'd been walking towards. A little bundle of nerves knotted in his chest, and with it the immediate urge to find Sirius - but he was twelve years old now, not some toddler, and Regulus reminded himself with an embarrassed huff that their home here in France was just a neighborhood over.
Sirius might come back for him, but Regulus knew his brother could just as easily get distracted and fail to notice his missing companion, so Regulus began moving through the crowds towards the activities spread out some ways ahead. Just beyond the choir, Regulus could see a stall full to the brim with magical snow globes, puffing up their snow over a variety of glittering, moving scenes. Some of the 'snow globes' didn't actually have glass - making them more a snow scene than a snow globe, Regulus felt - but the execution was precisely done, and as he paused for a peek, he thought they were quite interesting, whatever they were technically meant to be called.
Although they lived in London, a city renowned for its character and busy atmosphere, Number Twelve had always felt like an enormous wall between the reality of the city and what their lives entailed. As such, having a little more freedom to wander about in the holidays was a rare and treasured feeling for Sirius, easily distracted by bright lights, singing, what looked like a variation of pin the tail on the animal, a supposed seer, and people trying to hit hovering cans. Sirius stopped for the last one; he had a decent aim, and though he had absolutely no use for a glowing nose reindeer plush, he supposed it was worth it just to get everything to knock down.
Regulus was always so quiet that he barely noticed him. He was still with the choir when Sirius went to try playing a popping balloon game, but he'd follow along. He always did eventually. The gingerbread sculptures caught his attention next. There were people trying to make their own houses and making a mess of it, but ones he assumed were professional were kind of neat. There was a teapot house, a giant clocktower, even a townhouse that looked a little like home. He briefly entertained the idea of getting it, the briefest of the brief ideas being that even their parents might appreciate the craftsmanship and obvious spellwork involved, but he dismissed it out of hand. He could hear the berating for the lack of culture they'd experienced and how they'd wasted their free time already. It wasn't wasted, and it looked pretty cultural to him, but Sirius was starting to believe these were just the standards set by adults. When they do things, it's cultural and entertaining, no matter how sodding boring it is, and when you're young, it's all a waste.
It wasn't a waste. They'd frozen a small rink and people were following over on it and laughing about it instead of acting like it was the worst thing in the world to be seen failing at something. They were having fun.
Having worked himself into an irritated tizzy at the imaginary play of an argument, Sirius turned to find that Regulus was no longer at the choir. He looked around, but it was packed, and Regulus was still baby-sized.
"Damn it," he hissed, breath smoking in the cold. He was going to get skinned alive if he managed to lose the golden child.
Regulus was wandering away from the stall of enchanted snow globes when an old woman and a younger woman (who looked much like the elder, just blonder and less wrinkled) waved to a plate of cookies and other sweets that smelled wonderful, asking kindly in French if he'd like a treat. Pleased though he was with his ability to recognise what they'd asked him (simple and contextual though it was), he walked on past the sweets and the table covered in winter accessories charmed to keep warm. Above the pile hovered two needles, knitting more right there in the moment as a young witch hung back in a chair and sipped something warm from a mug.
In that moment, Regulus was struck with how much he would like something warm from a mug, but without a word, he cut past another small knot of people moving through the crowds.
When at last Regulus reached the games and activities, he didn't see his brother anywhere - not popping balloons or hooking rings with engorged candy canes or trying to net the fairy that wore a bell while avoiding the fairies without a bell. Confident as Regulus was in his reflexes, he thought the latter seemed fun enough, but with a more steeling discipline, he resisted the urge in favour of his continued search.
Drumming up his French (and trying his best to emulate the proper accent and conjugation, rusty though it was), Regulus asked a few of the adults standing around if they'd seen a boy with a red and yellow scarf. Most had not, but on the fourth request, a boy only a few years older than his brother motioned back in the direction Regulus had come, back towards the choir and the snacks and the knitting table. Regulus offered his thanks and maneuvered his way out of the games and back into the thronging crowd.
Sirius considered asking if someone had seen him, but he'd never quite managed to get his tenses right, and it had meant asking was a bit of an ordeal. Sirius had always been a far more practical learner, so he was sure he'd pick things up a hell of a lot more if he just chatted to people, but standing about chatting to the locals had never been exactly encouraged. It took going through the crowd in a circle to note the familiar colours of the Slytherin scarf more so than anything else. "Where the hell did you disappear to?" he asked, huffily.
Regulus turned to look at him, recognition dawning immediately.
"I stopped to listen to the choir," Regulus admitted, "Then I couldn't find you, so I decided to look."
"We're both idiots then, that's reassuring." Sirius grumbled; two idiots going about trying to find each other in holiday crowds. "Tap me next time. Or yell, do you know how to yell? I'm sure it's somewhere in your blood."
"I know how to yell," Regulus said with prim defensiveness, burying his hands deeper in his cloak, "I just prefer not to."
"From your stomach," Sirius said, patting at his through the layers. "Speaking of stomachs, do you want to eat or do something?"
Regulus nodded, eyes scanning the stalls and setups - snacks and activities alike - then looked back to his brother.
"This is why I don't ask what you want to do, you don't answer." Sirius huffed, before taking his arm and pulling him towards the gingerbread house stand. "Race you."
A small smile spread on Regulus lips, and just a beat later, the two boys were bolting through the crowd, the call of Christmas festivities still flashing around them. Expectations and the adults that enforced them were nowhere to be seen, and frivolous though it was, in that moment, they could celebrate as they pleased.