#wolfstar hannukah week

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

Part 4 out of 8 for @hanukkahwolfstarweek (part 1, part 2, part 3) Fourth night: Presents Word Prompts: laughter, surprise, love Also on: AO3

The second they knock on the door of James and Lily’s hideout at Godric’s Hollow, fist drumming against the wood in an agreed-upon pattern of familiar knocks, he hears a sharp roll of familiar laughter slice through the air.

“Look who is here!” Lily exclaims loudly, throwing the door open. Harry is hoisted up on her hip, dressed in an adorable looking onesie of a Christmas deer, his hair longer and fluffier with every time they see him, resembling a pair of small, messy antlers on his head.

“Poof!” He exclaims happily, the clumsy mouth butchering the vowels of his nickname together. He recognises Sirius’ face instantly, and his small fists reach out, fingers closing around air, clutching at the space around him demandingly until his mother finally gives in and hands him over.

“Hello, Bambi,” Sirius coos, unable to stop his smile from spreading once he takes Harry into his arms. The kid is instantly all over him, tugging on any stray lock of hair he can find, hands wandering over the leather fabric of his jacket, his beard, his shoulders, an insatiable source of natural curiosity.

They step inside, allowing Lily to close the door behind them so the cold does not slip through.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” Sirius whispers, grin widening at the excited noise Harry makes, clapping his tiny hands together, giggling breathlessly.

No matter how hard of a day, week, month they’ve had - this is always something Sirius looks forward to. Harry is like the manifestation of Hannukah light itself, so full of pure joy and genuine excitement. He is unlike them, who are now damaged with all the sorrow they have gone through and all the terrors they have witnessed - he has nothing but love to give because that’s all that he’s ever received, and if Sirius could wish for just one thing, he would wish for Harry to stay this way forever.

When they all gather around the table to light up the candles after dinner, Remus reaches for his bag to pull out the Hannukiah the two of them have prepared as a housewarming gift for James and Lily. It’s manually carved, with three shapes of animals at the foot of the Menorah - a stag, a doe and a small fawn between them. Just the wide smile alone that it puts on James’ face when he sees it is worth all the effort that has gone into it.

“You should place it on the window ledge, or above the door frame,” Remus elaborates, “it’s meant to bring light and good luck to the house.”

Harry reaches his small hands out, trying to touch it, his face twisting in a grimace that threatens the start of a tantrum when Lily tugs him back.

“Also it’s charmed against falling, breaking, shattering, bruising--” Sirius recites quickly, glancing sideways at Remus for confirmation “--what else?”

“Burning,” Remus supplies.

“Obviously.” Sirius reaches out and taps his finger against the candle holders at the top. “It has a fire protection spell, so any candle you light inside it will be safe to touch, no heat or inflammation.”

“That’s.. that’s so thoughtful,” Lily says, her lips tugging up into a smile. “He always gets upset when we don’t let him near it. He loves the lights. Don’t you, little troublemaker?” She runs her fingers along his side in a tickling motion, then loosens her grip on the toddler, letting him crawl over to the new object of interest. “Thank you.”

James steps closer, picking the kid up into his arms. “Come on, Haz,” he says, leaning closer to bop the toddler’s red nose with his own, which makes Harry squeal in delight. “Want to help uncle Moony and Padfoot light it up?

Later that night, when Lily is dosing off into sleep once she finally has a moment of peace with Harry in Remus’ lap, giggling softly at something Remus is reading to him from a book, Sirius and James use the moment to sneak out onto the porch.

The ground outside is covered with snow, cold and chilling in contrast with the warmth of the house inside, and Sirius shudders a little when they step out.

“How’s it going?” He asks, shifting to pull a cigarette out of the pack James holds out to him.

“Eh. You know, not bad,” James replies with a shrug. He leans back against the wall and presses the cigarette between his teeth, hands tucked into his coat, smoke mixing with steam from his mouth as he speaks around it. “I just wish I could get out a bit, do more. Being stuck here sucks arse, mate.”

He doesn’t say much more than that, but he doesn’t have to. Sirius knows. He knows how much it’s killing James to feel so helpless, having to double check his every move or action with the Order so he doesn’t accidentally put everyone around him in danger just by breathing wrong. James was not made to be stuck in one spot, he was made to be free and wild like a flame, soaring up to the sky and swallowing everything in its way.

But they’ve crossed the point of their teenagehood when they thought that anything could be bent to their will, and every thing can be achieved just if they want it hard enough - they know their limits, know the obstacles, and Sirius can not offer him much more than a sympathetic smile, knowing that James can feel his understanding, and reach out a hand to squeeze the other’s shoulder tightly.

“How about you and Moony?” James asks, hurrying to change the subject. “You two hanging on?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Sirius nods in response. “I mean-- not great, you know. It sucks. It’s rough out there. But I’m.. I’m glad I have him,” he says at last, eyes darting over to the window behind him where Remus’ form can be seen through the frosty glass, Harry crawling and climbing all over him as much as his limited mobility and small body allows him at this point.

When he looks back to James, he finds the other looking at him with a warm smile and an affectionate glint in his eyes. “You two have come so far,” he murmurs softly, the words barely audible over the whistle of the wind around them, “I’m proud of you.”

And there it is - that word, slipping off his tongue so seamlessly, like it’s the most natural and easy thing for him to say in the entire world, but also with heavy meaning and intent behind it that can not be doubted. It sounds so effortless when he says it, even though it still makes Sirius choke a little just from hearing it, let alone speaking anything close to it.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” James says quickly, pulling away from the wall to throw an arm around Sirius’ shoulders, “it’s freaking cold in here.” He stubs his cigarette out against the wooden planks of the house and throws it over the railings of the porch into the snow outside.

“Happy Hannukah, Pads,” he whispers, pulling Sirius closer against his side as they head back inside the house. “Here’s to many more.”

And really, that’s the only thing keeping him going at this point. The thought of more days like this to come, just the lot of them together - him and Remus, James and Lily, and now Harry too. It makes it all worth it in the end.

“Happy Hannukah, Prongs.”

[spindrifters]

x. PINNED POST THING

FIC MASTERLIST:

marginalia

WIP. 273k/? E. Canon-divergence dystopian AU. Wolfstar, side Dorlene and eventual Jily.

history books forgot about us

Complete. 25k. E. Ted/Andromeda prequel set in the marginalia verse.

ocho kandelikas

Complete. 11k. T-E. Hannukah anthology of 8 standalone one shots in various timelines and verses. Wolfstar, various side characters and ships.

until our ribs get tough

Complete. 4k. M. Prequel Remus and Lily friendship slice of life set in the marginalia verse.

twentieth century boy

Complete. 3k. E. The Sirius-on-a-leash fic. Wolfstar.

the verge

Disconnected one-shots. Mainly Wolfstar.

SOME TAGS:

x marginalia blogging x mwpp in shorts agenda x lesbian wolfstar x trans remus lupin hours x drabble tag

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XO ZO

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

Part 1 out of 8 for @hanukkahwolfstarweek First night: Menorah lighting Word prompts: Light, eyes, candle Also on: AO3

Sirius does not like holidays.

The December ones, especially so.

Everything around the dark, gloomy flat is always lit up with colours, highlighting even further how their house is nothing but varying shades of grey and black. Christmas is always all about green and red, standing out even more against the white snow covering the cold streets of muggle London, old men dressed as Santa roaming the streets, kids giggling loudly as parents pull them away from stands of candies.

Hanukkah is always somewhere around that time - sometimes a whole month before it, sometimes only a week - Sirius is not sure how that works, he knows it has something to do with the lunar calendar but he never bothered to learn that, not seeing the point in any of it. Regulus tried explaining it to him on several occasions, blabbering something about the positions of the moon and the solar system, but gave up after being brushed off every single time.

On the first night of Hanukkah they usually go to the Manor, where Cygnus and Druella make a big deal out of lighting the first candle of the Hannukiah.

It always starts out nicely - or rather, in a poor attempt at pretending that nothing is wrong - but it quickly escalates into a string of unfortunate events and unpleasant conversations that he would rather not be a part of.

Bellatrix is trying to spill hot oil on everyone around her (he isn’t sure if that’s purposeful or not), Narcissa is squealing like she is being cut open with a knife when Andromeda tries to shove a generous piece of sfenj covered with sugar powder into her mouth, screaming something about being on a diet and the high amount of carbs in fried sweets.

Sirius tries to kick Bellatrix under the table with his foot when she’s about to spill the entire contents of the jug onto Regulus, but ends up hitting him instead, causing the younger to drop the candle he’s holding, the flames immediately latching onto the thin fabric of the tablecloth.

Cygnus hurries to pull out his wand, putting out the spreading fire quickly, and Walburga snarls something under her breath in his direction, snapping at Sirius to get up from the table and go outside.

There is a limit to how many times they can retell the same old tale of the Maccabees and Judas the Wizard, somehow managing to tie the story of the revolt against the Greeks with the modern-day resistance of the pure-blood class against the tainted blood being pushed onto them, so eventually the conversation starts straying off into directions Sirius would rather much avoid.

They mention the names of his classmates, glancing over to check his reaction and raise an eyebrow when he offers not much more than a grunt in response, pick at his grades, compare their current schedule to the way it used to be ‘back in the day’, until Sirius is anything if not happy to take up his mother on the excuse to leave the table.

So no, Sirius does not like holidays.

Until Remus Lupin, that is.

There is nothing about him that gives it away at first.

Sirius always assumed that if he was ever to meet someone like himself, from the same background as his family, they would at least look similar - curly black hair, thicker facial features, a hint of an accent with some rolling r’s that the elder members in his family still let seep through on occasion.

Remus looks nothing like that - his hair is a soft shade of light brown, the tips of the longer locks almost a golden blonde when the sun touches them during daylight, and his eyes are a warm hazel, ranging anywhere from green, to a golden orange, to brown, depending on the lighting and his surroundings, almost like the forest, shedding its leaves throughout the seasons.

He looks soft and gentle on the outside, drawing Sirius in with the warm smiles he offers and the calmness of his voice when he speaks during class, but there is something else that Sirius can spot, something recognisable and a bit damaged that he thinks people like James and Peter can not see, the rough edges and the sharp flinches, brows pulled together that make him shut down when certain topics are approached that nobody but Sirius seems to notice.

He is so very different, fascinating and enigmatic like a puzzle, and still - there are some things he notices. The small details. It feels distantly familiar, but he can not quite put his finger on it.

It’s the way Remus strays away from certain dishes on the table, politely turning down any dairy desserts after a meal with meat, the way he sometimes opens his books from the right side instead of the left, the way he seems so comfortable using both hands when writing.

Sirius wants to ask, but he’s too scared of making a fool of himself. He wouldn’t have been today, and he’s sure that neither would Remus, but they are merely kids back then, both of them having grown completely isolated from the outside world, only now learning to explore and accept it, so it’s only natural.

He’s convinced he’s just making it up in his head, projecting his own habits onto people around him in a desperate attempt to find something familiar, until something happens during a Potions class that makes it all click into place.

Sirius curses silently under his breath when he distractedly reaches over, causing one of the empty vials on his desk to fall over. It hits the floor, shattering to small pieces across the pavement.

The apology is already on his lips when he bends over to pick the shatters of glass up with his wand before anybody in class accidentally steps on them, but then Remus blurts out something next to him.

“Mazal tov.”

Sirius freezes mid motion. He looks up, blinking blankly at the other boy, who seems to only realise what he just said once Sirius looks up at him.

“Sorry,” Remus says quietly, “it’s just, uh-- it’s something we say at home,” he explains, almost apologetically, his cheeks a little flushed with embarrassment. “Ignore it.” 

He bends over to help him pick up the shards, pulling them together into one spot with his wand, but Sirius’ mind is still stuck on the familiar set of words.

“Like at a wedding,” he says before he can stop himself.

It’s Remus’ turn to freeze, warm hazel eyes darting up to look at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Mazal tov,” Sirius repeats, firmer. “When a glass breaks. Like at a wedding.”

Remus is looking at him like he just grew an additional pair of eyes on his forehead.

“Yeah, like at a wedding,” he repeats slowly. He gives Sirius a quick once-over, like he’s seeing him for the first time. “How do you know?”

Sirius’ lips tug up into a smile. “We say that too.”

It’s the first time Sirius says “we” without hesitation, the first time he suddenly does not feel ashamed to associate himself with his family’s background and traditions. The first time his roots give him something to connect with other people over and not be pushed away for it.

A month later, when it’s time to light the Hannukiah, it’s the first time in his life that he’s really looking forward to it.

The lighting of the first candle thankfully falls on a Sunday eve, when they don’t have any classes or practise, and once they are done with dinner Sirius looks up from his plate on the table, meeting Remus’ gaze across from him, and he can see the silent invitation in his eyes without any words being uttered between them.

They murmur the blessing in a hushed whisper as they light it back at their dorm, and place it on the inside ledge of their window, bright and shining for any eyes outside to see.

“Happy Hannukah,” Remus whispers to him, lips tugging into a shy smile as his eyes dart over to look at him.

And for the first time Sirius can say that yes, it’s definitely going to be a happy one.

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

HANUKKAH WOLFSTAR

hellooooo kapara

i wanted to give you a snippet from the azkaban one but it's 2am and i'm feeling merciful. have this intead:

Harry’s eyes glint with so much excitement and pure joy, the same green colour they’ve been when he witnessed it for the first time as an infant, even if he does not remember that. Sirius reaches out an arm to wrap it around his shoulders, pulling him in against his side, shoulders pressing together.

“Your dad and I had this tradition,” he says with a self-important look on his face that makes Remus snort with amusement and Harry glance up curiously, “we would always do it after lighting it up.”

Remus huffs out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back down into his chair. “You’re not supposed to be teaching him bad habits.”

“Why? He’s fifteen, he’s old enough,” Sirius protests, which only makes Harry’s curiosity spark up even further. “Moreover, look at him,” Sirius reaches a hand to brush it through the tangled mess of Harry’s messy hair, so familiar to the touch it’s almost painful if he concentrates on it for too long. “The kid looks like he hasn’t had a single bad habit in his life. If anything, Prongs would be proud of me.”

“What?” Harry asks insistently, eyes darting between the two of them as he tugs on the sleeve of Sirius’ coat impatiently. “What is it?”

Sirius turns to flash the boy a grin and fishes a small carton pack out of his pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and brings it up to the light of the main, central candle, letting it light up the tip.

“James would always say that the light of the Hannukiah is magic, so it takes away all the bad stuff in it,” he says with a tap of his index finger against the cigarette, bringing it up to his lips.

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

Part 3 out of 8 for @hanukkahwolfstarweek (part 1, part 2) Third night: Hanukkah games Word prompts: dreidel, flour, smile Also on: AO3

Regulus dies the winter of nineteen seventy nine, on the holiday of light of all times to choose from.

Nobody tells him. Nobody sends a patronus, or an owl, or just a small hand-written note - “Hello Sirius, we’re all still bitter and miserable, hope you are as well. By the way, your brother is dead. Happy Hannukah.”

Nobody finds it important to inform him of that personally, they just let him get up one morning to find Remus, James and Lily gathered around the kitchen table at the Order headquarters with a copy of the Daily Prophet spread between them, all eyes in the room snapping over to him when they hear him enter. Some sad, some sympathetic, some judging.

He knows that they haven’t been on the best of terms the latter half of their lives, he knows that he hasn’t spoken a word to him for several years - he knows that. But it’s still his brother, his own flesh and blood, the boy he shared every summer with for fifteen years, and he would like to think that he deserves that, deserves to not find out about it from a newspaper with the rest of the world, deserves to not have the entire ensemble of the Order staring at him, waiting to see his reaction when he reads it - over, and over, and over, trying to make the words make sense in his head, trying to connect it.

He sees Benjy offer him a sympathetic smile, and he hears Molly mumble something under her breath - and then James is suddenly snapping, telling them off sharply, and Remus’ hands are on his shoulders, pulling him away and out of the room while James’ angry voice echoes behind them as he keeps arguing with the others.

There isn’t even a body. Nothing to bury, nothing to mourn, nobody to say goodbye to. Nobody knows when exactly or why it happened, although he isn’t sure if that’s the full truth or just his parents trying to save face again.

He wonders how exactly it happened. Whether he suffered or if it had been instant. Whether he had the time to say Shema when he realised what’s about to happen. If he had realised at all.

Moody tells him to take the day off, refusing to take no for an answer even though there is nothing Sirius wants to do more than go out and slit the throats of several Death Eaters with his wand.

He finds himself back at the small, cramped-up room he temporarily shares with Remus while the headquarters are being moved again - everything always happening in a rush these days, always on the move.

He digs through his trunk, deeper than the old Quidditch jumper that’s way too small on him now but he can’t bring himself to throw out, deeper than the books in Hebrew which Hope let him borrow the last time they visited Remus’ parents, which he never got around to returning, deeper past the space expansion charms until his hands finally land on a small wooden chest with a lock.

There are several items inside, the last of his possessions from Grimmauld Place which he could never bring himself to rid of. One of them is a small, hand-carved dreidel with beautiful patterns of fire flames around the top. It’s charmed, the weak trace of Regulus’ magic still felt on it when Sirius places it on the surface of the table to spin it, the flames stirring awake and dancing lively with small sparks of light surrounding it in a circle.

Regulus was always good with Charms. And he always liked Hannukah.

He hears the door close gently behind him, and he doesn’t need to look up to know that it’s Remus. He feels the mattress of the bed sink next to him, and then a warm hand comes up to rest over his knee.

He doesn’t say anything. He sits there with him, watching the wooden toy spin round and round, the small flames changing colour from orange, to yellow, to white. Sirius is grateful for the silent presence by his side, a wordless sort of understanding and encouragement that words can not provide at the moment.

“We can still say Kaddish,” Remus speaks up quietly after a while, “even if there’s no body. If you want to.”

Sirius tears his gaze away from the spinning toy at last and shifts to look at him.

Does he want to? Not really. Saying Kaddish would make it official, would start the mourning process, cutting off any hopes of still finding him hidden away somewhere or trying to find out what happened. It would mean having to deal with all the anger and hurt he’s been bottling up this entire time, but also with the guilt of what could have been.

“Yeah,” he agrees reluctantly with a nod, “okay.”

It’s not the best timing - with the full moon mere hours away, Peter being off on an operation with the Prewetts, Lily and James having just found out that she’s pregnant. There is no time for a Shiva, no time to grieve properly, but as they murmur the mourning prayer quietly in the privacy of their room, it feels like something, at least one thing they can do so the eighteen years old soul will not have to go through any more torment than it already had to endure.

“Yitgadal veyitkadash,” Sirius whispers under his breath with his eyes closed, a set of words that he had to use way too frequently the past several years, and he hears Remus echo the words together with him.

It’s nowhere near enough to calm the storming winds in his heart, but it’s something.

It has to count for something, because if this doesn’t, then what’s any of it worth at all?

They grow, the more time passes, and those moments of mischief and easy laughter of sitting around in the Hogwarts kitchen and making sufganiyot with the elves - their eyes crinkling with laughter and clothes white with flour - become more and more rare with each year, even for James.

They aren’t kids anymore, and Order work is not exactly a walk in the park, but they do their best to stick to their routines and their traditions, the small dates and the familiar patterns giving them both some sense of safety, security, something to latch onto so they don’t lose the feeling of time completely.

Sirius suddenly understands his parents, this desperate need that they felt to hold onto family traditions even through the biggest of fights and the roughest of times, just to have this sense of normality once in a while, even if it’s fake.

So no matter how crazy of a day (or night) they’ve had, they try to always find those five brief minutes at the evening of each day throughout Hannukah week, to get together and light that stupid candle, no matter how idiotic or insignificant it might seem to people on the outside when the entire world around them is falling apart.

“You don’t have to come tonight,” Remus tells him when Sirius gets up to follow him, hand coming up to snatch the dreidel into his pocket from where it’s still spinning restlessly on the table. “I’ll be fine, really.”

Sirius shakes his head quickly. If anything, he could use the distraction.

It’s been a bit of a struggle, coordinating the full moon meet-ups between the four of them after they left school. Their schedules are different, they all have patrol and duty on different locations and different hours, as if the people assembling the schedules are putting them as far away from each other as humanly possible on purpose, just to make sure they have the most miserable time they can. They don’t always make it, sometimes it’s just the two of them and James, sometimes it’s only Peter, rarely the four of them together anymore, but Sirius does his best to not miss a single moon, especially if nobody else can make it that night. He can’t stand the thought of letting Remus spend one more night than necessary alone.

Feelings are always easier in the form of Padfoot. His grief is just as profound, but it’s cleaner, none of the anger, betrayal or guilt mixed in there. He just raises his head at the moon above them when they reach their designated spot in the forest and howls loudly, letting the sad sound echo through the woods around them.

This night passes by slower than usual, but Sirius finds himself wishing that it lasts even longer so he can get these small moments of privacy before they have to get back to the hectic chaos of their lives.

“I think Moony liked this one,” Sirius says with a chuckle, spinning the head of the dreidel in his hand.

He watches the movement of Remus’ eyes, tracking the small, wood-carved toy as it goes spinning around in circles between them. He looks drained and exhausted, hair damply sticking to his forehead, skin still a little red around the fresh bruises after this night, but there is a warm smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I can see why,” he murmurs softly, tucking his nose into the blanket covering his knees.

Sirius honestly hadn’t expected it to work, but maybe the wolf bore more similarities to Remus’ human personality than they ever allowed themselves to ponder, because the moment the animal saw the toy spinning around the room - it perked up, tail freezing and nose sharpening like a curious dog, watching it with unconcealed interest.

“We can just head straight home,” Sirius says quickly, brows pulling into a worried frown as he scans the other’s worn out appearance, “nothing’s gonna happen if we miss just one--”

“No,” Remus shakes his head quickly. “Let’s do it.”

He reaches behind him, hand rummaging around the small cabinet until it lands on a pack of candles, and when he meets Sirius’ gaze again, he can see that same familiar warmth in them, a special kind of glint and fondness reserved for this time of the year, their first holiday they spent together, and every single one following that.

Sometimes Sirius wishes his head worked in a simpler way, just taking things at face value for what they are instead of playing this constant association game. Every time they light the candle, he thinks back to all the things that ever happened to him surrounding this holiday. Some are better, some are worse. He gained a friend thanks to it - more than a friend, partner for life - and he also lost a brother.

It isn’t fair. But all they can do is hope that the good memories can outnumber the bad ones in the future.

“Happy Hannukah, Pads,” Remus whispers softly.

“Happy Hannukah.”

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

@soloorganaas this is what remus and sirius were smoking in "something special of our own"

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

Part 5 out of 8 for @hanukkahwolfstarweek (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4) Fifth night: Parties Prompt words: fireworks, warmth, memories Also on: AO3

They are all seated around the table at James and Lily’s place, laughing loudly about something Sirius can not recall clearly any longer. But the feeling is there, a sensation of pure euphoria and happiness, surrounded just by the right people on one of the most precious periods of the year for him, all of them so happy, wrapped in warmth and brightness on the holiday of light.

James is yelling, as he always is, telling something excitedly, his speech barely coherent after two glasses of wine and through his snorts of laughter as he struggles to finish his own joke without bursting into tears.

Lily is laughing too, hand covering her mouth to unsuccessfully stifle her own snorts. Sirius doesn’t think she actually understands a word of what James is saying - if he can’t then she definitely doesn’t stand a chance - but James’ laughter is loud and infectious, causing them all to double over with it even before he reaches the middle of the joke, cheeks hurting and eyes watering.

Sirius’ gaze crosses with Remus’ across the table. His hazel eyes shine with a bright, golden hue, the light of the five candles of the Hannukiah on the table reflected in them, making them even wider and brighter than they normally are. Sirius thinks he could drown in them.

“I think this calls for a toast,” Peter says abruptly, getting up to his feet at the head of the table. He reaches his hand out for his glass, but instead he picks up the Hannukiah at the centre of the table, raising it high up in the air.

Everyone around them keeps laughing, but Sirius finds the sound getting stuck in the middle of his throat, his mouth going dry and bitter. A strange feeling of dread settles in his stomach. He can not explain it, but he can sense that something is wrong. He can tell that there’s something off just from the dark glint in Peter’s blue eyes when their gazes cross from opposite ends of the table.

Peter loosens his grip on the handle and the candle holder falls, six lit candles scattering across the table. In a matter of seconds, the tablecloth is burning, sparks flying off in all directions like fireworks, spreading onto the carpet, the curtains, the clothes, anything within its reach around them.

“What are you doing?” Lily screams, darting to Harry’s seat to pick him up, eyes scared and lost as she searches the room around her.

Peter’s lips spread in a smug smirk.

“It was Sirius Black,” he speaks, the words echoing around the room with a deafening loudness. He lifts his arm slowly, finger pointed forward at him. “Sirius Black did it.”

Everyone’s eyes are on him then.

James. Remus. Lily. Harry.

They are all on fire, burning, flames climbing up their bodies, but nobody tries to run. They all turn to look at him accusingly, dark glares and hateful whispers spreading through the room.

“I knew it,”

“Once a Black - always a Black.”

“I told you, James,”

“It was only a matter of time.”

“No.” Sirius stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall behind him. “I didn’t do it,” he speaks frantically, eyes darting between the four of them, seeking out someone who would be willing to listen, just for one second. “I didn’t-- It wasn’t me!” he cries out, desperately trying to shake off the burning hands reaching out to him. “You all saw it! Come on, you were all in here with me! You saw him do it! It wasn’t me! It was--”

He spins around to look in the direction where Peter had been standing moments ago, but there’s nothing there but a puddle of blood.

“You killed him.”

“You did it.”

“You killed all of us.”

“You ruined everything, Sirius. I trusted you. You always ruin everything.”

“No,” Sirius shakes his head violently, trying to yell, to make them listen, but his voice is nothing but a whisper in the darkness engulfing him. “No, no, no--”

He slides down the wall, hugging his knees to his chest as he buries his face into them, trying to drown out the voices around him. They keep getting louder and louder until a deafening snap slices through the air, and then complete silence and darkness around him. He blinks himself awake, peeking up from his arms to look around him, and that’s when it dawns on him.

Azkaban.

Peter.

James and Lily.

Fuck--

James and Lily.

The real memories are mixing with the nightmares in his head. He can feel the presence of the Dementors all around him, sucking out every remaining bit of light out of them, turning even the most precious of the images into bloody lakes of gloom, the biggest core memories all his hope and resilience is built on shattering into dust under his fingers.

The whole point of the holiday is to battle darkness through the light - but how can you do that in a place that has no light, no hope, that physically sucks every string of joy and faith out of you, leaving only misery and doom?

Sirius runs a shaky finger over the cold stone pavement underneath him, tracing the shape of the Menorah with six candles on it. He isn’t actually sure it’s the right day, he had lost track of time a long while ago, but his limited knowledge of astrology and the lunar calendar allows him to at least relatively estimate some of it in a pathetic attempt at keeping his sanity.

“Happy Hannukah,” he whispers, but there is no one to say it back this time.

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

I just wanted to say how much I am enjoying Hanukkah week and how much I am learning. Thank you for spreading this joy to the fandom.

thank you, i'm so happy to hear that <33 the fandom support and response has been amazing, it's so great to see that