#luxrpchristmas

[orionsdxg]

before christmas holidays, gryffindor boys’ dormitory, hogwarts, 2007

He was supposed to be packing for the holiday, everyone else had already started and the overachievers had already finished.  Trunks that usually sat open or with things haphazardly dumped on top of them were now neatly packed and lined by the door, indicating to the house elves they were ready to be taken to the train in the morning.  Downstairs in the common room, he could hear the buzz of students spending their final night of the year with one another before they would all board the train with their trunks to go home for the holiday.  Sirius was lying on his made bed, staring up at the canopy wondering how long he could stall before he would either end up going home without a trunk or missing the train.  

He could go home without a trunk, technically.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough clothes still at the family house to get through the holiday.  But then he would end up wearing the clothes his mother approved of since those were the ones he left there.  He wouldn’t have the ones he’d managed to cajole his way into or the ones he’d accumulated through sharing clothes with James throughout the first half of the year.  One of the only things that was keeping him from spiraling into a complete temper tantrum was the idea of coming down to Christmas dinner in faded jeans and a Weezer t-shirt.  

No, he had to bring the trunk.  He refused to give his mother the satisfaction.

Last year, there had at least been the silver lining of seeing Regulus.  His first year at Hogwarts had been the hardest because Regulus had been back home and so he had been able to avoid the dread and the hysterics by spending as much time as he could holed up in Reg’s room and out of his mother’s line of fire.  This year, though, Reg was at school too and they hadn’t lacked for time together.  Even being in different houses, it was better than not being at school together at all.  But it meant that the only good thing about going back to Grimmauld Place for Christmas was gone.  

Hence the staring and the wallowing and the procrastinating.  

“Are you coming down anytime soo — have you even started packing?”  

Sirius didn’t move as he heard her voice, he wasn’t surprised to hear this particular female voice in the boys’ dormitory.  Lily was clever and had long since figured a work around to get up the stairs to the boys’ tower. Her displeasure at being separated from ‘her boys’ had been no match for a centuries old spell.  

“I’ve actually unpacked everything that I hadn’t ever gotten around to unpacking in September.”  He scooted over on his bed a bit so that she had room to climb up with him but it was the only move he made to acknowledge her presence or invite her to say.  He didn’t need to do more.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She didn’t answer because she knew he he was full of it.  He knew that she knew.  She knew that he knew that she knew.  He was just being stubborn as he insisted on continuing to stare at the canopy in silence.  It had to be a solid five minutes before he finally spoke again, Lily had waited him out and even though he didn’t want to admit anything, he wanted to talk about everything.  It was part of the contradiction that was Sirius Black.

“I don’t want to go back there. Not even for the holiday. Every time is worse than the last. This summer was a bloody nightmare and I spent half of it with Jim.”  He let his head fall to the side, finally, looking at Lily.  “Do you know I’ve never had a Christmas where we weren’t shouting at dinner?”  He looked back up again.  He knew it was as much his fault as his mother’s, he picked fights even when he wanted to have peace and quiet.  He would go into a meal determined to be civil because it was a holiday and he didn’t want Regulus to only ever remember him and Walburga fighting.  But then she would open her mouth and say something so awful or cruel or cutting and he couldn’t help himself.  

“Is it bad that I’d rather stay here and spend Christmas with the house elves than go home?”

Sirius didn’t know what he expected the answer to be. Part of him thought she would say yes because that’s what his answer was.  Of course it was bad. Who didn’t want to go home for Christmas, even if they did fight with their mum and live in an old drafty ugly house?  Who would rather be alone than with their brother just because of a little fighting that he should be used to by now? Part of him hoped that she would say no, that she would make him feel a little less stupid about it all.  He didn’t expect what she actually said.

"Why would you want to stay with the house elves when you can hang out with me?"

He snorted, finally grinning a little bit.  

“What, you planning on skipping the epic Evans Christmas to mope around the castle with me?”

He assumed she was joking, they all usually were. It was the best way to cheer up a glum Marauder, tell a joke or poke some fun. And it had worked, he was grinning.

“No, I’m inviting you home for Christmas. Epic Evans celebration and all.”

He moved, finally, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at her.  

“You can’t just invite me home. The night before the train leaves. Won’t your parents be pissed off you brought home a stray?”

Walburga would mount his head next to the house elves’ on the wall if he had brought home someone she didn’t know without any kind of notice. She didn’t even like when he had invited his cousins over as a boy without asking her permission first.

“They’ll only be angry if you make us miss the train and they have to come and get us themselves so get your butt out of bed and pack your trunk.”

Her smile was wide and genuine and his half hearted grin grew to match hers.  He didn’t need to be told twice.

@thefoxevans

#luxrpchristmas #ᴀʀʀᴏɢᴀɴᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ | sirius #ʟᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪʟᴅ; ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴀᴅ | lily #ᴀ sᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴ sᴄᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛs | drabbles

[luxaurorarpg]

MERRY CHRISTMAS FRIENDS !! 

We know a lot of our members are spending the day celebrating with holiday festivities! However, we also know this year has been a little different due to the pandemic and a lot of us are spending today at home. We wanted to drop little Christmas surprise/mini task for our members to enjoy. So without further ado we’d like to present: 

Christmas Memory Drabbles !!

This is an opportunity for our members to explore their characters past experiences with Christmas. Whether it’s writing about their happiness, saddest, or most memorable Christmas memory! Please tag all posts regarding the event with #luxrpchristmas !  

#luxrpadmin #luxrptask #luxrpchristmas

[evanxrosier]

So This is Christmas ~ Evan Rosier

1.

It's the first time he's ever been drunk, really.  He's ten and he snuck away from the Christmas party in the parlor where all of the pureblood bigwigs are flexing their muscle about how amazing and powerful they all are. He's old enough to be sick of it, and Father was dumb enough to leave the liquor cabinet unlocked.  Drinking is gross, and he feels sick but he keeps going until the room spins above him.  They don't even know enough to miss him.

No one does.

Except Nellie.  She's little and Evan doesn't think she understands and maybe it looks like a game to her.  So when he crawls under his father' desk and feel like he's going to die, she crawls under there with him and lays over his chest and pokes at his cheeks and laughs and laughs at the faces he makes.  

He's probably too old for sleepovers, but it's Christmas Eve, so he lets Nellie climb into bed with him later.  Evan learns what a hangover is pretty quick the next morning, but Nellie loves the lights and the presents and still looks at him like he's the best thing ever, so it didn't bother him as much a it probably should.

He also got to throw up in Father's Ming vase and that was pretty rad too.

2.

It's a fucking cliché.  That's what it feels like.  Seventeen year old poor little rich kid, running away from home. Just couldn't take the pressure and the privilege.  It makes him hate himself even more, just thinking about how he just can't stand not having to want for anything but paternal affection when there are kids out there who don't even have food to eat.  His father got him a fucking platinum and gold chess set for Christmas.  Probably cost enough to feed a family of four for a year.  And here he is, sneaking out on Christmas night, because he just can't stand another second.  

He goes to the first gay bar he can find, and he drinks as much liquor as he can in twenty minutes and then he finds some guy who's cute enough but anonymous enough to not matter.  He tugs him into the bathroom and sucks him off and it nice and it feels like rebellion for a minute.  Evan has more drinks and then he fucks a different guy in the back alley and that's even better.  He passes out in someone's backyard, but he still makes it home for Christmas morning dinner.  

Because no matter what he does, he's still too fucking scared to be anything but a good boy for daddy.  

3.

It's his first Christmas in his own place and he barely put up a tree, but he doesn't even care, there's something magical about it anyway.  The lights are crooked as fuck and he could fix it with magic, but he likes it off kilter.  He thinks Nellie does too.  She's the only person he invited over, the only person he wants in this place.  It's not the grandeur of their Christmas's back home, but he can tell by looking at Nellie's face she doesn't mind at all.

He throws popcorn at her hair and sings Christmas carols at her so loudly he's almost shouting.  They make cookies together and it's a fucking disaster area in his kitchen.  There' a bottle of champagne in the fridge, but Evan doesn't even think about grabbing it, because for the first time in a very long, long time, he doesn't need it.  They have hot chocolate and egg nog and he burns a ham so they order in some Chinese food.  He doesn't want a cent his father gives him so he is shit poor and gets Nellie a little gemstone necklace he lifted off of a street vendor.  It still doesn't look like much, but it's a nice rich amber, shaped like a cute little bumble bee and it just reminds him of her.  

It doesn't matter so much if she actually loves it or just loves the thought, he hugs her tightly and knows that there won't be a better Christmas than this one right now.

#~i imagine death so much it feels more like a memory~evan rosier #headcanon #luxrpchristmas

[mssr-moony-esq]

Remus J. Lupin ~  A Christmas Story in Three Acts

Act I

Christmas Eve - 2001

He is six years old and everything hurts.  It's the day after the first full moon after his father left, and it's been the worst one yet.  The scar across his nose that becomes the most recognizable aspect of his body is fresh and new, loaded up with a ton of muggle antiseptic and the smell is stinging his nose.  Mum is in the kitchen and she keeps crying.  Remus does not.  He's a big boy and daddy is gone so he can't cry.  He has to be strong.  Mum wants that from him.  

Remus sits by the Christmas tree and fiddles with the lights strung across it and looks down.  He sees the meager collection of presents under the tree and scowls when he see the one marked "Daddy" in his uneven letters.  It's a book and he picked it out himself, with Mum at the bookshop.  It's Call of the Wild and Remus had liked the dogs on the front cover.  He liked the idea of a story about sled dogs, he likes them being free in the wild.  It calls to something new inside of him.  He doesn't know enough to feel bad about being a werewolf, and maybe if his dad can read a nice book about sort of wolves he'll stop being sad all the time.

But it's pointless now, his father is gone and mum won't stop crying and every part of his body hurts and hurts and hurts.  Remus picks up the package and  and tosses it into the fireplace with a kind of recklessness that he would only very rarely display.  It's still burning when his mum comes back into the room with a fakely cheery "Happy Christmas" and holding a plate of cookies and hot chocolate.  Remus is six but he knows how to lie already and he smiles at her and listens to the crackle of burning paper behind him.

Act II

Christmas Day- 2008

He is thirteen years old and he's at Hogwarts for Christmas.  The moon had fallen on Christmas Eve exactly this year, and there was no way he could have gone home, even if his mum was desperate to have him.  It was two year away from knowing exactly why, his mum didn't want him to grow up quite that fast, regardless of the fact that he already was quite grown up.  He might be more or less alone on Christmas, but he doesn't mind, so much.  Hogwarts feels more like home than any other home ever has.  He has friends here, people that make an effort to understand him, that care about him.  They may be home with thier families, but they love him anyway, he knows because they send him letters and gifts.  It's new.  Remus feels like it will never stop being new.

Like always, Madam Pomfrey is there when he wakes up, standing at the door of the shack with her medical bag and a robe.  Today she's wearing a little Santa hat and smiles brightly at him, like he's not a naked, gangly teenager with blood dripping down into his eyes and a gash torn deep into the flesh of his right thigh.  "Happy Christmas, darling," she says brightly and wraps him up.  She chatters on while she tends to the worst of his wounds talking about how cheery the castle looks this morning and the fine feast waiting.  When Remus doesn't respond, she falls silent and and just hums under her breath, some half remembered Christmas carol from before life went upside down.  

He doesn't know he's crying until Madam Pomfrey wraps him up into a tight hug and runs her fingers gently over her hair.  "No, no I'm fine," he says a few moments later, and it's true.  He's just realized that he'd never felt more accepted, more himself in his entire life.  There is no judgement, there is no hiding, not in this moment, not with his friends and when he goes back into the castle there will be medicine for the pain and there will be meals and there will be owls from his friends and it will be the best Christmas yet.

{ Madam Pomfrey stays the whole day with him.  First it's just medicine and breakfast, and then it's her singing softly while he plays Christmas tunes on the violin.  She watches him open his Christmas letters and presents, fondly and easily, with none of the caged anxiety his mother always watched him with.  Later, they have spiced hot cider and and Remus tells her secrets that he always wanted to but never felt like he could tell her mother, fragile as she was.  He cries again, several times, but when he's tucked in at the end of the day, he has a smile on his face.  It was a good day. }

Act III

Christmas Night - 2015

He is twenty years old.  Mum had a bad reaction to the current course of chemo overnight and she had to be admitted.  The hospital is all fake cheer and brightly painted horror.  The nurse gives his mother another dose of the Zofran, and she stops vomiting a few minutes later.  She looks pale and wan though, and the nurse says its because she's dehydrated and that's what the fluids are for.  Remus knows.  It's not magical medicine, but he still knows. He did the research, he knows how it works.  He used magic to look into his mother's chart earlier, the things he wasn't supposed to see.  He knows her white blood cell count is low, too low.  They will give her CSFs for that.  Her red blood cell count is low too, and soon they will be hanging bags of blood and plasma and platelets so she doesn't bleed out the new blood they'll be pumping into her.  He knows that every progress note the doctor writes ends with PROGNOSIS POOR.  Remus has met with a Dr. Golden who works for the palliative care department and he talks about quality of life and pain control and time frames with and without treatment.  He is twenty years old and he is an adult, but this feels too much for him, to be asked to make decisions for his mother who can't do it herself because the metastasis and the drugs make her hazy and forgetful and not herself.  

She goes to sleep around ten pm and Remus knows he should stay with her, but he also can't.  He feels like his skin is too tight and it'll start spilling out his insides on to the cold white tile.  

So he leaves.  He goes to James and Lily's first.  He talks to Lily in halted tones about what he knows, what he fears, how impossible it is for him to know what to do.  He doesn't cry then, but his fingers tremble and his voice feels like cut glass crawling out of his throat.  Lily wants him to stay and he almost does, but their house is almost too bright and too happy and he loves them so, but he can't take it anymore, he can't be a burden on a happy day for them.

He goes to Sirius then, wanders outside his window and refuses to say anything until he's spotted because of course he is, who paces back and forth in front of someone's window like that in the middle of the night?  Remus doesn't tell Sirius anything at all.  He sits down on the curb out front and Sirius sits next to him.  Eventually Remus pulls out a cigarette and hardly smokes it, watching the ash burn down to his fingers.  At some point he leans his head on Sirius's shoulder.  It's everything and not enough all at once.  

He leaves when dawn starts to light the sky, and everything cuts at him like knives, the cold that's seeped down into his bones, the ache of his heart that feel fractured.  He goes back to the rundown cottage he and his mother share, and knows then on some level that it will be his alone soon.  Five years they say, five years at the most and they will be painful they will be hard.  One year without treatment, but kinder and maybe Remus is a monster, but he want's everything done, he can't lose her too not now.  Not ever, but especially not now.  But nothing will change the fact that she's going to die. And soon, sooner or later.  

He thinks about screaming, watching the snow melt off the windows from the kitchen sink.  But then he remembers Lily and the soft way her hand clutched his, and James with his awkward but endearing concern watching from the doorway, knowing well enough not to intrude on the world that Remus and Lily could so often create around themselves.  He remembers Sirius who just lets him exist in the quiet fucked up way that he is, even though it probably killed him not to try and fix it.  

It occurs to him that if (when) his mother dies he won't actually be alone. It's a strange thing, a strange gift as Christmas Day faded into the odd time after Christmas and before the beginning of the New Year.  He has people.  He has family.  It's something he probably ought to have known already, but this is honestly the first time it's occurred to him.  

He's twenty years old, and he is old and young and alone and more connected than he has ever been in his life.  It's everything and he looks out at the snow falling around him and smiles through tears.

#~i long for the raised voice the howl of rage or love~remus lupin #headcanon #luxrpchristmas