Sirius lay, groaning, on his unmade bed. Somewhere out in the corridor Kreacher was singing a Christmas carol in a decidedly minor key as he carted a load of (black) wizard crackers downstairs, but it could not drown out the ringing of the doorbell and the misery it heralded. Sirius despised Christmas, because Christmas - in the Muggle and Wizarding worlds alike - means family. And an extended family like Sirius’ was enough to make anyone hate the holiday.

Without rising from his bed, he could still picture the train of guests which would be entering downstairs. Three stood out most clearly in his imagination: his older cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa would be in full Black regale - sometimes he wondered why his family had to take things so literally, and yet, he couldn’t imagine either girl wearing anything different. They would be stepping over the doorstep - Narcissa daintily and with her nose as high in the air as always, and Bellatrix with that almost manlike tread which bespoke an unshakeable confidence. Behind them, though (and the thought raised his spirits a little), Andromeda would be creeping, mouse-like, into the oppressive house, and trying to frame a greeting which would not displease her aunt and uncle.

For Andy’s sake, then. Sirius sucked in a deep breath of the chill winter air (funny, how since his Sorting into Gryffindor the family’s Heating Charms had never extended into his room), and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Downstairs, the place was milling with Black family relatives - the entrance hall was blurred with steam, as new arrivals used Evaporation Charms to remove the snow from their robes and boots, and from the dining room a murmuring of snide voices served to chill any Christmas cheer which dared show in the air. Sirius barely needed, however, to expend any effort to push through the throng; his relations parted, glances sliding down their noses at him, in order to avoid so much as touching the Gryffindor boy. Sirius kept a dark and somewhat ferocious grin on his face - he almost wished someone would provoke him, just so he could loose the dog-like snarl he’d been practicing before the mirror. But no such luck; they treated him like a dog, indeed, and one not worth acknowledging.

He found Andromeda by looking out for a similar outcast. Andy was twenty-two now, well out of Hogwarts, yet there was still a certain air of Ravenclaw about her - perhaps in the cobalt-blue robes she wore, or the far-away look in her large eyes. Sirius finally arrived by her side, and encapsulated her in a one-armed bear hug; with the other arm he snatched a glass of Firewhiskey from a passing house-elf.

‘Sirius!’ she cried, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, ‘It’s been so long! Why is it that you never come to visit any more, cousin of mine? Is there something in our mansion that disagrees with you?’

He raised both his eyebrows at her. ‘Andromeda, my dear, there are four somethings in your mansion which disagree with me, and they disagree with me about everything.’ She laughed, but sent a furtive glance towards her parents and sisters, who thankfully were too engaged with looking haughty to have noticed anything. Sirius noted down this reaction, and an idea began stewing in the back of his mind… ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I’ve been at the Potters’ a lot, James and I are planning a massive coming-of-age party for me. But what about you? Mary MacDonald said she saw you in Hogsmeade with that some guy called Tonks - ’ Her face stricken, Andromeda tried to hush him, but both he and she were drowned out by a welcome roar.

‘AHA! My favourite niece and nephew! There you two are!’ Their uncle Alphard, already red in the nose from too much Firewhiskey, waddled up to them, resplendent in dress robes of a brilliant purple. He appeared not to notice the disapproving silence which greeted such an unpopular declaration. ‘Come into the kitchen - the warmth wards away all the fusty folks! Here, boy,’ He snatched the glass from Sirius’ hand, ‘I’ll take care of that for you…’

The kitchen was, indeed, both warm and free of all but Kreacher - such a room, naturally, was no place for a true Black. Sirius shifted the mountain of wizard crackers in the corner and Andromeda and Alphard conjured up a set of three chairs, where they were able to sit comfortably and uninterrupted (except by Kreacher’s mutterings). In the company of his uncle and cousin the evening passed almost pleasantly for Sirius. He and Alphard managed to coax an admission from Andromeda that yes, there was a man named Tonks on the cards, but that she would appreciate it if they didn’t tell anyone because he was… well… not entirely pureblood. This news was delivered in a whisper, her eyes darting round the kitchen as if she expected one of her sisters to sprout from the wall - a trick Sirius wouldn’t have put past the nosey Narcissa. Pity stirred in Sirius’ stomach for the older girl; she had never been as openly defiant of her family as he was, and lived in daily fear of her sisters. And this Christmas, Sirius was determined to do something about it.

When Andromeda excused herself to visit the bathroom, Sirius took the opportunity to lean over to his uncle. ‘Uncle Alph, you know how you say you wish Black family gatherings were a little less black…?’

Two hours later, all and sundry were summoned into the black-draped dining room for the Feast. Sirius’ father began proceedings with a rather long and drawn-out speech about how glad he was to see such a pure gathering, and how such families as theirs were the future; a future which was assured because of the excellence of their younger generations, as exampled by Regulus, Bellatrix, and Narcissa (Sirius and Andromeda exchanged a glance across the table)… The poisonous waffle droned on and on, and Sirius began to tune out. Finally Kreacher brought out the magnificent roast Diricawl, and the assembly’s thoughts began to turn from pureblood supremacy to their bellies. A toast was hastily given, and the black wizard crackers taken up - each turned to his or her neighbour, and prepared for the magical explosion of (black) smoke and noise...

Sirius and Andromeda shared a cracked over the table; Sirius winked at Uncle Alphard, where he was cackling merrily next to his niece, and caught Andromeda’s eye.

‘Merry Christmas, Andy!’ he grinned - and almost as one, the Blacks pulled their crackers.

In less than blinking space, the dining room was erased by an explosion of white. With less of a crack than a boom, all the black hangings and robes, the black expressions and intentions, were spattered with pure, white SNOW. It was easily the most magical transformation of any Sirius had seen, inside Hogwarts or out. Laughing uncontrollably, he directed Andromeda’s gaze over to her sisters - Narcissa was shrieking and trying to comb the slush out of her white-blonde hair (and very dirty it looked in comparison to the snow, too, Sirius noticed), and Bellatrix was deep crimson and spitting snow out of her mouth (a shame, Sirius thought, as with her pretty looks the white could have made her look almost angelic… had she not been Bellatrix). To Sirius’ delight, a smile began to spread over Andromeda’s face - despite her years of deference to them, she was finally laughing at the expense of her sisters.

Sirius sat back, content, in his cold, powdery seat. Finally, a Black Christmas was - white.