The Ghost Of Christmas Past

23rd December 1997, 2:55 AM

Breathing heavily, Draco poured the umpteenth glass of mead down his throat. He could feel his insides clenching around the soothing, but also gut wrenching, liquid as his head spun around with the swirls of alcohol. His hand let go of the tumbler that broke in many ragged shards. Draco was so drunk that it had just slipped from his fingers.

He had refused to leave his quarters all day. Mother had tried to enter his room, but she could do nothing against the wards he had put up. He had hexed Theo's owl away as the poor bird had tried to land on the stone, chiselled window sill. His house-elf had not dared enter his quarters for years, Draco had cursed her so many times that even the ever loyal creature had eventually decided to let him brood in solitude. The Dark Lord and his damned Mark were silent, at least.

Sitting in his chair next to the desk, Draco grasped the messy blond locks on top of his head and pulled at the strands with no mercy, his head lolling and heavy. He had attempted to convince himself that the night before had only been a joke, a cruel nightmare, but as the arms of his heavy wrist watch relentlessly ticked towards the third hour after midnight, he started shivering. Violent shakes made the entirety of his body rattle in terror. He dreaded the moment he would meet the next spirit. Draco was not afraid of ghosts. He had lived alongside the Bloody Baron and Peeves at Hogwarts, and he knew they were almost harmless, maybe the latter was just a little annoying in his poltergeist form.

What the wizard was terrified of was to face other innocent people that had died. Burbage perished in his home, so it was Draco's understanding that the deaths of the three ghosts that were about to pay him a visit were somehow related to him. He wished that the mead would help him face the revenant of what was once his Hogwarts Headmaster. He had an eerie feeling that Dumbledore was going to be one of the spirits.

Draco didn't hear the clock striking three o'clock, but he felt the cold mist raising beneath him as though it were a dagger driven into his heart. He covered his orbs with his palms.

"Greetings, lad. I'm the ghost of the Christmas past." Through his shielded eyes, Draco couldn't see whom that metallic voice belonged to.

The ghost laughed at his cowardice. The sound spread within Draco's veins, mingling with his very blood. "Get up. As much as I don't like being on a schedule, we don't have much time," the male voice commanded.

With a groan, Draco lifted his head and met the floating figure of a somewhat familiar wizard. He was sure he had nothing to do with his death so he felt somewhat relieved. The spirit was wearing tight dragonhide trousers and a loose white shirt, the sleeves were rolled up past his elbows and the first couple of buttons were undone. His face was hard and aristocratic, framed by long dark locks. Draco recognized his distant cousin, someone he had known only from articles published in the Daily Prophet.

"Sirius Black," he greeted him back, chin haughtily pointed upward and hands sliding down the sides of his face. "You have one night on this earth and you come to me instead of visiting your beloved pupil Potter?" Draco had regained his nerve from the relief of having escaped the sight of Dumbledore. Alcohol helped him too.

Sirius clicked his tongue, lazily sinking in the green velvet sofa that occupied a corner of Draco's room. "I'm glad that you got your temper from the Black part of your family and not from your boring father," he stated with a smirk. "Anyways, I am here for Harry. I shite you not. Now, come, I must show you something."

With movements rendered unsteady by alcohol, Draco reluctantly stood. He was aware that he had no other choice. How could he avert the presence of a spirit? His gaze observed the shattered glass on the floor, the fucking metaphor of his present life. With a wand flick, he summoned the mead bottle and took a swig.

Black chuckled lightly, floating back to standing, his eyes fixed on the bottle. "Booze is pretty much the only thing I envy the living for. Well, that, and sex," he finished with a barking laughter. The ghost half hovered and half walked to Draco. With a sigh, Sirius put a translucent hand on Draco's shoulder, the other stole the bottle.

Draco jolted, as he could actually feel the cold touch of Black's cadaveric hand. He observed the old ink of his tattoos before he tried to pull away, but a magical bond forced him to remain still. His grey eyes met Sirius' ones, they shone with a similar smokey colour, and they were admonishing him not to make things more difficult. Draco bit his lip, a worried frown contracted his pointy features. Sirius sipped and drained the mead as though he were a drifter and the mead were land. The empty bottle flew to the fireplace, causing an explosion of glass and embers, crashing noises, and a roaring of flames. Then, Black closed his orbs and the room around them started spinning with a vorticose pace. Wall and furniture whirled and moulded into each other in a grey blur until everything grew black.

Draco felt as though he were falling in a black hole, nothing under his feet to stop his tumbling into the abyss, Sirius's hand the only hold to reality and, he suspected, to his own sanity as well. When his feet finally touched a solid surface, Draco resumed his breathing as well. His surroundings took form. Another bedroom appeared before his eyes, but Draco didn't recognize it. He looked sideways at his cousin's ghost with a confused look.

The place could have been any damned Gryffindor bedroom. Red curtains concealed a huge four-poster bed; the walls and ceiling were hidden behind photographs of wizards dressed in red and gold, Gryffindor emblems and banners, and large non-magical pictures. The posters portrayed Muggle vehicles with two wheels and naked women with seventies hairstyles.

Sirius was silent. He just pointed at his ear once, prompting Draco to listen. As if he knew exactly what was about to happen, Black stared at the door. Two distinct voices were shouting somewhere outside the bedroom. The yelling grew louder and closer until the door of the bedroom slammed open and two teenage boys entered the room.

One of them was a younger Sirius, dressed in black elegant trousers, white button-down shirt, no shoes, and a red and gold tie that hung loosely around his neck. The other lad was younger, but his features looked similar to the older boy. He was dressed in an alike manner, but he was wearing shiny expensive shoes and a green and silver tie, perfectly knotted, instead.

"Regulus…" ghost Sirius whispered to himself, and Draco knew immediately who he was. Former Slytherin, Quidditch player, Death Eater, and also his cousin.

"Get out, wanker. I don't want you in my room!" younger Sirius spewed at his little brother.

Regulus crossed his arms and straightened his back before speaking with a low growl, "How can you do this to Mother. It's Christmas, you should come downstairs and have a meal with us for once."

Sirius scoffed, waving his wand around with angry movements and magically packing a trunk. "I won't be joining those two bigots for dinner today, or ever again."

"Oh right, let me guess, you are going to Potty," Regulus mockingly said. Draco smirked at Regulus' insult towards what he thought to be James Potter, alcohol fuelling his mirth. Once or twice, he had used the same offence to taunt Harry Potter.

Sirius didn't answer, continuing his preparation with stiff actions, showing his back to his brother, to his ghostly self, and to Draco.

"You are a shame to this family. You hang out with those-"

"Gryffindor dung, Blood Traitors, Mudbloods, Half-Bloods...blah blah. I heard it all before, Reg. Do you want to know what truly is a shame?" Sirius bellowed, forcefully shutting the lid of his trunk and turning his head slightly to glower at his brother. Keeping his glare on Regulus, he jerked his shirt off and exposed his bare back. Deep purple long wounds ruined the perfection of Sirius' sculpted back. The gashes looked freshly healed with magic.

The ghost next to Draco emitted a low grunt at the sight, his eyes also smouldering, but they became instantly softer when they met his little brother's astonished face.

"A father that whips his son over his choice of tie colour is a fucking shame," Sirius shouted. "A shame," his voice dropped to a hiss then, "is a brother that plans to join a xenophobe terroristic group at fourteen fucking years old."

Young Sirius slipped on a worn down pullover and a pair of leather boots and performed a Shrinking Charm on the trunk. Immediately after, he tucked his belongings into his pocket. With a final glare at Regulus, Sirius opened the window and jumped out.

Draco and Regulus both gasped and looked outside, expecting to see younger Sirius splattered to the ground. Instead, Sirius was sitting on a weird Muggle motor vehicle that was hovering just below the sill.

With a sad smile, the Spirit of the Christmas past approached Draco and put a hand on his shoulder again. "Took me many Disillusionment Charms to hide that motorcycle. That thing was bloody sexy, but also rather bulky."

"And noisy," Draco added, putting his palms over his ears when young Sirius fired the bike. The roar died down as the world around them started spinning again.

Everything stopped and Regulus Black emerged from the darkness. He was older now and pacing the perimeter of a little study.

Draco locked eyes with Sirius and asked, "Why did you show me all this? You had the guts to leave. Bravo, but what good did it do to you? Your friends betrayed you, and you spent half your life in Azkaban."

Sirius stuck his tongue to the side of his mouth, then he opened it to talk, but a loud pop caused both him and Draco to jolt.

A little bundle of dirt and blood had apparated in a corner.

"Kreacher!" Regulus called, kneeling down to cradle the creature in his lap.

"Master…" the house-elf feebly pleaded.

"What happened?" Black demanded.

"The Dark Lord...he ordered Kreacher retrieve Salazar's locket, sir. Kreacher tried to serve the Dark Lord as Master commanded, but there were wards...dark magic, and me got hurt. Sorry, sir," the elf whispered with a raspy voice and passed out immediately after.

Draco braced himself as time began fast forwarding. His stomach turned with the passing of the scenes in front of him. Everything stopped again. Regulus was hunched over his desk, slowly scribbling a letter, pausing every now and then to dip the black feathered quill in the ink well.

Sirius gestured with his head to Draco to get closer. They observed in silence as the younger of the Black brothers finished his missive. Regulus dropped the quill with a sigh, and Sirius placed a transparent hand on his brother's shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him. Draco read Black's scribbling quickly, feeling the pain that had been poured in that parchment. He felt a somewhat similar disillusionment with the Dark Lord's purpose.

Dear Brother,

I'm writing to you on this Christmas day because I need to tell you t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶s̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶a̶d̶m̶i̶t̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶ that you were never in the wrong, my brother. Leaving this estate, distancing yourself from the circles, which I so vehemently defended, were probably the most intelligent things you have done in your reckless life.

I, on the other hand, am doing the biddings of a madman, of a h̶a̶l̶f̶ ̶b̶l̶o̶o̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶bloody fool. Since I took the Mark, my life has been on a downhill road; I feel as though I'm riding one of your weird Muggle vehicles straight toward a wall. I don't even know if this makes any sense.

Brother, I am about to embark on a journey that, I'm certain, will cost me my life. I made my peace though, I hope you'll be proud of me.

Merry Christmas.

Y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶ ̶b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶ ̶R̶e̶g̶ ̶Regulus Arcturus Black

With lips pursed, Draco took a couple of steps back. He hid his hands in the trouser pockets and peered at the floor, leaving the two brothers at their awkward supernatural reunion.

Draco's head jerked up when he felt Sirius' cold fingers digging into his upper arm. While the study began to fade away he saw Regulus shouting a Fire-Making Spell towards the letter he had just written. In a whoosh, they were back in his room at Malfoy Manor.

Sirius let Draco's arm go and flew to the dying flames of the fireplace. Draco could see the embers through Sirius' contracted but ethereal body. The spirit balled his hands in fists and spoke with a growl, "Regulus died in an attempt to destroy something that is very dear to Voldemort." Draco flinched at the name of his Lord, said with such fearless contempt. "I had always believed Reg was a coward up until I learned his story when I died. It turned out he was the real hero between the two of us."

Draco swallowed with difficulty, his saliva tasted rancid from the liquor. "What you showed me only proves that nobody can go against the Dark Lord and survive."

Sirius chuckled eerily. "Lad, it proves that no matter what the price is, fighting for what is right is always worth it."

Draco scoffed, shaking his head, eyes wide in disbelief. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? I don't give a shite about my life, Black. If I stray, he'll kill Mother. She doesn't deserve all this, and Father already put her through so much."

"Don't be a craven! Do what's right!" Sirius roared, his voice echoing in Draco's brain.

"And what is it that I must do for Harry fucking Potter?" Draco yelled back, face red with anger. He clenched his jaw then, a tremble to his lips.

Sirius had the fucking audacity to shrug at him, before he looked straight in his eyes, grey piercing into grey, and said, "I'm not sure, lad. I'm not even sure why I've been chosen to visit you." He pushed his long wavy hair off his shoulders and took a step toward the younger wizard. "You remind me of a young me - arrogant, irascible, always pissed off. If I can just present you with one piece of advice, boy, don't let your temper get the best of you."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, he was cross for having wasted another night, but Sirius raised a hand and broke into a barking laugh. His laughter actually turned into a bark as Sirius shifted into a large black dog. The fiery beast charged Draco as though it were a hellhound and as it pounced him, it went right through his body and disappeared into thin air with a low growl. Draco collapsed on the cold floor, shivering in fear.