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Everyone always used to tell James and Lily how lucky they were with such a good baby. Harry Potter was always a happy baby, constantly giggling and rarely crying. He would sleep through the night from the moment they brought him home. Even as a toddler, he loved nap times, was seldom colicky, and was happiest in a room full of loved ones, cuddled up between his parents or with one of their friends. When they would take a date night and leave him alone with Sirius or Remus, Mary or Marlene, they came home to nothing but praise for the boy. No complaints, he went straight to bed, no fuss.
Even his accidental magic was tame and charming. One day he made the bath overflow with bubbles, peals of high pitched giggles accompanied the mess. Another day, he made his vegetables disappear from his plate and appear on his father’s, who was trying to feed him the wretched greens. Their favorite had to be when Harry turned Padfoot’s fur pink and poor Sirius didn’t know how to change it back, running around in circles in a panic until his dog brain realized he could turn back to a man.
When Harry turned five, James and Lily separated and even though it was amicable and mutually decided, they knew their son would probably have some growing pains to their new normal, so they tried to stay close for his sake, still having dinners together, celebrating joint birthdays and holidays as if nothing were wrong. At such a young age, Harry didn’t really understand what separated or divorce really meant, he just knew he sometimes slept in a different bed in a different house.
When Harry turned ten, the separation was a bit clearer. They hadn’t shared dinners in years, they had a more structured schedule for when Harry stayed with James and when he was with Lily. Their holidays were still together, but that was their only shared time, really. James and Lily were still friends, best friends, but they needed more space to move on. And so over the years they gradually made changes so subtle that Harry didn’t really notice all at once.
And Harry was still doing well in school, always making good marks, easily friends with everyone he happened to meet. He seemed to dabble in the mischievous streak from James’ side and picked up some of Lily’s studiousness and quick wit. They were called to the Muggle school once when Harry got wrapped up in some scheme that his friends instigated and ever his parent’s son, Harry was loyal to a fault and took the blame while trying to cover for them. They sort of thought they lucked out at this point. Harry was just a good kid. Always was, always will be.
But then Harry turned thirteen and Lily got a girlfriend. Mary MacDonald, her oldest friend, and someone extremely familiar to Harry. She had been in his life since he was born, babysat him countless times, and was always present for joint holidays. When Lily told her son that they were dating, on a weekend she had him, Harry furrowed his brow and was unnaturally quiet.
“Do you have any questions, love?” she asked. She was sitting across from Harry with Mary beside her, holding her girlfriends’ hands in her lap, on the edge of her seat. She was desperate to hear him say something, anything. This was new territory for all of them.
Harry looked at their joint hands and then back up at his mum. “Nope.”
He got up and walked out of the room without another word. He didn’t come out of his room for the rest of the night. Lily told James how it went, looking for a bit more support. He promised to gently bring it up with Harry when he saw him next, but he also read about this happening. In muggle books. (Yes, he read muggle parenting books both before Harry was born and after the divorce, well pretty much for every developmental stage. He also passed the books off to Harry’s godfather, who was equally ready to study up for once in his life.)
James knew this was a possibility. Sometimes kids accepted that their parents were separated for now , but assumed they would get back together eventually. Or perhaps Harry was confused by his mother dating a woman, although they had always been forthcoming with his questions about sexuality - specifically when he asked about how his two uncles could be married when he was younger. It definitely wasn’t a problem with Mary. Harry loved Mary when he was younger, but as soon as her title shifted from friend to girlfriend, that was no longer the case.
When Harry stayed with James the following week, his father planned a quidditch game with Harry and his friends from Hogwarts in the back garden and he even fulfilled his fatherly duty by embarrassing him and joining them all up in the air with Sirius. At the end of the day, when all his friends went home, and he was happy and exhausted, James tried to talk with him.
“I heard your mom told you about her and Mary,” he began casually, sitting on the edge of his son’s bed as Harry squirmed under the covers.
“Yeah.” After talking all day, he was again, abnormally quiet.
“And what do you think of that, then?”
Harry took off his glasses, folded them and put them on the nightstand. “S’fine.”
“Do you have any questions?” James tried again, holding in a helpless sigh.
“Nope.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
“Don’t feel anything about it,” Harry grunted, sliding down to lay his head on the pillow. He shut his eyes.
James poked his stomach gently. “Oi, your dad’s talking to you.”
“M’listening.”
“Could you at least, look like you’re-”
“I’m tired. From quidditch.”
James nodded. “Right.”
Harry opened his eyes and forced out a less-than-sincere smile. “Thanks for today.”
“Course,” James grinned. “Gotta practice for quidditch this year! You know I never miss a game. Always cheering you on in the stands. Thanks for humoring me and Sirius. It’s been a while, but it was nice of you to let us have our fun, too.”
Harry rolled his eyes and laughed. “I think he was limping when he left with Moony.”
James rubbed the back of his neck and snorted. “Yeah, don’t bring it up with him. Remus told me he found a silver hair the other day and went mental .”
Harry mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. James reached out and ruffled his hair.
“You know our mum and I love you, yeah?” he said, voice sincere and wavering with emotion. He was always a bit of an easy crier. “So much. We’re so proud of you, you know that? Nothing will change that. Okay?”
“I know,” Harry murmured quietly, wide green eyes staring at him. James was always reminded of his son as a little baby when he had those eyes, wide, curious, attentive.
“And you have so many people in your life who love you,” he continued, trying to keep his voice even and firm. “Sirius and Remus, Marlene and Dorcas, and Mary.” Harry looked away at the mention of Mary and James put a gentle hand on his chest. “Just because your mum and I aren’t together anymore, doesn’t mean we love you any less and-”
“I know that,” Harry interrupted.
“And your mum deserves to find someone to love, who loves her, and makes her happy.”
Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but hesitated and seemingly decided against it. He closed his mouth and looked away from his father.
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” James said after pausing for a moment to see if Harry would speak up. “Or if it’s weird to talk to your dad, then there’s Sirius or Remus or-”
“Dad, I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.” Before James could reply, Harry turned onto his side, facing away from his father, and pulled up the covers around his shoulders. James sighed, gave him a pat and a squeeze on the shoulder, and shut off the lights on his way out.
If he thought back, this was probably the moment that Harry started his silent treatment. That year he turned thirteen, officially a teenager. James spent all school year reading up on how to navigate teen angst as a parent. Both he and Lily sent frequent letters to Harry while he was away at school and while in his first and second year, he would write them back almost daily, this year he sent a letter to one of them just once a month, not acknowledging their previous letters or questions about his schoolwork or quidditch.
That summer, when Harry turned fourteen, was even more silent treatment. He was polite, but quiet. Brooding. James and Lily spoke frequently, obsessively about their son, desperate to get him to open up, tell them what was wrong, how they could help. James thought he was an expert on teen angst, having lived with Sirius for seven years, but Sirius was explosive with his hormonal anger and rage. He would act out, cause trouble, get into trouble. Remus was definitely a bit quieter throughout his teenage years, although he also “let loose” once a month. When something was bothering him, bottled up and simmering, the wolf always seemed to know about it and let it all out during the full.
That August before Harry left for Hogwarts, Regulus Black moved back to London. Sirius and his brother had been communicating over the years, sending letters for birthdays and checking in around holidays. The infrequent communication between brothers was less due to lack of love and more due to Regulus having moved to France after the war. He stayed away from England for many reasons. He spent his time in the war as a double agent for Dumbledore, selling Voldemort’s secrets, hunting horcruxes on his own and exposing traitors within the Order. When news of his betrayal hit, the remaining Death Eaters were, obviously, not happy. For his safety and sanity, he left the wizarding world behind.
But now thirteen years had passed, and Regulus moved back to London. That autumn, he and Sirius took on the project of renovating Grimmauld Place and Remus and James would join in to help tackle the boggarts and creatures hidden within the shadows. It happened gradually, so gradually, James hardly knew it was happening at all. That is until he ended up staying late at Grimmauld, hours had passed since Remus and Sirius went home. James was lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling recently charmed to look like the night sky, constellations and shooting stars, mist and moonlight filling up the room in a bluish glow. One moment they were talking about the constellations and the next, they were kissing. It progressed rather quickly from there.
Sirius was… not the happiest with this new development, but he was nothing compared to Harry. James waited until the following summer, nearly a year of being in a new relationship, before telling his son. Harry had met Regulus when he came back to London, but he already knew of Sirius’ brother, he heard stories of him growing up, of the hero of the first wizarding war. But now he was meeting Regulus, his father’s boyfriend, and if James thought he’d seen his son’s silent treatment before… oh boy.
“I’m not offended. It makes sense,” Regulus said matter-of-factly one night after they shared a quiet dinner together with Harry, who quickly went off to the Weasley house for a sleepover after pudding. “He doesn’t have to like me right away… or ever, really.”
“Of course he has to like you. I like you,” James replied, hunched forward on the couch with his hands over his face, elbows resting on his knees. He nearly melted when he felt Regulus rub soothing circles on his back.
“Didn’t he do the same thing with Mary?”
“That was years ago,” argued James in a bit of a whine, albeit muffled from his hands covering his face. “It’s like the older he gets, the less I know him. He barely speaks to me anymore.”
“He’s a teenager , James,” Regulus replied with a small smirk.
“You’re laughing at me. Why do you always laugh at me?” James was really whining now.
“Because you’re ridiculous,” Regulus said simply and pressed a kiss to his temple.
James and Lily learned from the Weasley’s that Harry had a boyfriend. Ron was Harry’s best friend since they met in diapers, he had been spending time at the Burrow for as long as they could remember. One weekend, he went over to the Weasley’s and Lily surprised them all by swinging by to pick him up instead of waiting for him to floo home. When she arrived, Molly was quick to tell her all about the day, how helpful Harry had been with de-gnoming the garden, helping Arthur with some of the muggle whoziwhats and they were all so happy that Harry’s polite and kind boyfriend, Cedric Diggory, was able to make it over for lunch.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lily asked quietly on their way home. She walked her son through the fields of the Burrow to an apparition point rather than using the floo network, mainly because she didn’t trust Harry to come home after being caught in a lie… Or was it more a secret? She wasn’t mad , just on the verge of tears.
“Dunno,” Harry replied with a shrug. “Wasn’t important.”
“Your boyfriend isn’t important?” she asked incredulously. Harry just shrugged.
From there on out, James and Lily were a mess. They constantly called one another to panic, catastrophize. What else wasn’t their son telling them? They managed to get Harry to invite Cedric and his father, Amos, to his birthday party at James’ house. The backyard was full of flying broomsticks, a buffet of sweets that rivaled Honeydukes spread, and all of Harry’s friends and family - including Regulus and Mary. Harry spoke minimally to his parents that day, consistently pulling Cedric away from conversations with them.
“Oh, just let him have fun with his boyfriend,” Mary brushed off, giving Lily’s hand a squeeze and handing her a butterbeer. “ Relax . You’re both smothering him.”
“I agree,” Regulus murmured with a smirk as James’ jaw dropped.
“We are not -”
“Smothering him?!” Lily finished in a dramatic gasp.
“Make nice with Amos, have a drink, and try and relax,” Regulus said with an unaffected eye roll.
“Agreed,” Mary echoed with a wink to Regulus and a kiss to Lily’s cheek.
As much as Lily and James tried to follow their partners’ advice, it wasn’t in their nature. They both hugged their son for far too long on the platform when he left for school again in early September. Harry groaned and had to physically push them away, only to have his godfather step up and do the same. They stayed on the platform until they couldn’t see the train anymore, with watery eyes and heavy hearts, as if they were saying goodbye to a first year student.
About a month into the school year Harry's parents received a letter from Professor Minerva McGonagall, alerting them of their son’s failing grades. With OWL exams coming up, his future is on the line, it read. James offered to talk with Harry after the next quidditch game. He went alone this time, meeting Harry outside the familiar Gryffindor team tent after a loss against Ravenclaw. He was already a bit down, so being cornered by his dad about schoolwork wasn’t ideal. Naturally, they fought.
“Why are you even here?” Harry grunted, slinging his bag over his shoulder and quickening his pace back up the path to the school.
“I never miss a game, Haz, you know that,” James replied calmly, trying to match their stride. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Harry didn’t reply verbally, but his silence was an answer.
“Right, well I’ve heard from Professor McGonagall that you’re struggling a bit in some of your-”
“I just want to go back to the dorm, dad,” Harry interrupted.
“Yeah, I get that, bud, but you won’t answer your mum or my letters, so-”
“Because I’m busy,” Harry stopped abruptly. James had to back up a few steps, turning around to see his son, tense and fuming. “I know my grades are slipping. I’ll do better. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. It’s a big deal when we have to find out from your professor and not from you,” James replied, voice threatening to raise in volume. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and tried again. “This isn’t like you, Harry. You’ve always done well in school. Is it too much? Are you taking too many classes? Is it quidditch practice?”
“I’m fine .” Harry seethed through clenched teeth.
“Are you getting enough sleep? Staying out too late?”
“ Dad , just leave me alone.” Harry turned to start walking back up the path and James grabbed his arm to stop him.
“You’re scaring me, Haz. I feel like we’re losing you. You don’t talk to us. You don’t tell us what’s wrong. We’re here for you. We love you. I don’t care that you’re doing poorly in school, not really. I just care that you’re okay. I-”
“I’m fine .” Harry said again, wrenching his arm back and racing up the path, leaving his father behind.
It was mid-November and in the interim, they hadn’t heard much from Harry. They kept in close contact with Professor McGonagall, who assured them that Harry’s marks had improved and she was no longer worried about him passing his OWL exams at the end of the school year. Still, they were worried. The silence was too much.
James returned home from work to a quiet house, although his wards told him that he wasn’t alone. That wasn’t out of the ordinary, he often came home to Regulus or one of his friends over. Everyone was always welcome at the Potters. He walked through the living room, which was empty, a bit of floo powder on the rug in front of the hearth, evidence of someone’s arrival. He kept through to his bedroom, changing out of his work clothes when he found the room empty. He tried the bathroom, kitchen, and study and was on his way to check the spare bedroom when he caught sight of them.
Out on the back porch, sitting on the top step, were Regulus and Harry. It was the middle of the week, during the school year. At first, James panicked that something was horribly wrong, but they weren’t fighting, their postures were casual, Harry slouched forward, but turned a bit toward Regulus, talking easily, openly, gaze focused on the back garden. Regulus, back straight, had his knees up and his head tilted back, nodding and humming along. James couldn’t remember a time that Harry ever spoke more than one syllable to Regulus. He always seemed like he just tolerated his dad’s boyfriend, showing disinterest everytime it was the three of them for dinner instead of just two.
James kept staring through the window at them, breath shallow almost as if they could hear him, then the moment would end. He saw Regulus mutter some sort of reply and Harry smiled, really truly smiled. Regulus nudged Harry’s knee with his own and they both laughed and James’ heart burst . Tears sprung to his eyes and he tried his best to hold in the swell of emotion, the overwhelming sense of relief. He didn’t realize how nervous he was for his son until this moment. Harry hadn’t really spoken to him or Lily in years . They had no idea what troubled him anymore, what his likes and dislikes were, who his friends were. When his grades started to slip, that felt like the beginning of the end. Utterly hopeless as a parent, trying everything he could to reach out, but always hitting a wall. Now, seeing him talking to someone , he felt like he could breathe again. Harry didn’t have to speak to his parents, but James was so grateful he had someone to talk to.
He saw Regulus stand up, leaving Harry still sitting on the porch, as he made his way to the back door. He came through and snorted at the state of James, snot-faced and red-eyed, tears staining his cheeks.
“Oh, just look at the state of you,” he huffed a laugh, stepping forward to hand James a handkerchief, leaning against the counter next to him.
“He’s-” James hiccupped on the inhale. “He’s okay?”
“Yeah, he’s okay,” Regulus replied with a small smile. “He’s good. He’s a good kid.”
“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” James sobbed, mopping up his tears with the handkerchief and taking a shaky deep breath.
“Oh, Potter, you big baby,” Regulus teased. He reached out and laced his fingers with James’, giving him an anchor to hold onto. James relaxed almost instantly, still overwhelmed. When he calmed down, a moment or so later, he was about to leave the kitchen to join his son in the back garden, when Harry stood in the doorway instead. He walked in, silently, right over to his father, and gave him a hug, resting his head on his chest and inhaling deeply.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Oh, Haz,” James breathed, blinking back more tears. “I love you so much.”
“Love you, too,” Harry mumbled, voice muffled in his shirt.
Harry went back to school that evening, just in time for dinner in the Great Hall. Regulus explained that Harry and Cedric broke up, but that was the extent of the details he shared. “He just needed someone to talk to, that’s all.” James pressed and begged for more info, but Regulus held strong. “He’s okay, that’s all you need to know. If he wants to tell you, he will. Just let him process a bit on his own first.”
That next month, Harry came home for the winter holidays, his spirits lifted a bit. He was still brooding, still a bit quiet, but now he was talking to someone… well, someones . Lily came with Harry when it was time for another switch of custody and she dragged James into the kitchen, while Sirius and Regulus greeted Harry in the living room.
“He’s talking to Mary,” Lily said, excitedly. “He’s talking! Not to me, but I don’t even mind.”
“He’s talking to Reg, too,” James replied with a giddy laugh, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Just found them in the kitchen after tea,” she continued, voice hushed in a high pitched whisper. “Talking to each other! Can you believe it? When I interrupted them, he just came over and hugged me. Can’t remember the last time my own son hugged me.”
“Ugh, me either,” James smiled. “He did the same when I found him and Reg. Think he just needs someone new? His parents aren’t cool enough or something anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Lily grinned. “And I don’t care, but I think it’s going to be okay. I think it will be alright, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
On Harry’s seventeenth birthday, they had another big celebration in James’ back garden. As always, there was a rather competitive quidditch game overhead, sweets and nibbles spread out in an elaborate feast, an open bar for the parents and endless butterbeer and sugary squash for the kids. James was sitting with his friends, giddily sharing how Harry asked Regulus for help on his summer schoolwork last week.
“Shut up, Potter,” Regulus grunted, but with a pleased blush to his cheeks.
“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighed dramatically, sitting on Remus’ lap. “Remember when Haz used to ask you for homework help?”
“It’s been so long, I can hardly remember,” Remus replied with a smile, leaning back in his seat to accommodate Sirius’ new position.
“Alas, we’re not the cool, smart, devilishly handsome uncles anymore,” Sirius continued with a hand on his forehead. “Somehow, in some sick twist of fate, in some mirror dimension, in some alternate reality, my brother is the new favorite in my godson’s life.”
“Oh, you’re still my favorite, Pads,” Remus soothed, petting his hair gently.
“Don’t take offense, Padfoot,” James joined in. “My own flesh and blood likes my boyfriend better than me.”
“You’re all insufferable,” Regulus muttered again, hiding behind his glass of wine. James grinned and squeezed his hand.
“Likes his mum’s girlfriend more than his mum, too,” James added with a heavy sigh. He looked over Regulus’ shoulder and saw Harry approached, hair windswept from flying, broom held tight in one hand. He was smiling and laughing with his friends and he was headed right for them.
“Hey, Regulus,” Harry called, pointedly not looking at the rest of the adults who were waiting with baited breath. “Cho has to go home early, so we’re down a seeker. Do you mind filling in?”
Sirius choked, jaw hanging open. Remus was laughing and James jumped up from his seat.
“Do you need a Chaser? You know, your dad-”
“Nope, just a seeker,” Harry interrupted, looking nervously at Regulus. “It’s cool if you don’t want to, I-”
Regulus, who’d been frozen in shock, suddenly stood up. “No, I-I’ll fill in,” he said, clearing his throat at the stutter.
“Cool,” Harry said, mounting his broom and flying off before anyone could say another word.
“Get me a bludger and a bat, stat,” Sirius yelped.
“Oh, grow up,” Regulus tossed back reflexively. He was turned away from his brother, but James could see him obviously fighting a smile.
“But-but…” James followed Regulus, who was off to find a broom. “You never play quidditch with me.”
“You’ve never asked me to.”
“Because I didn’t know you’d say yes!” James argued, arms in the air.
“Well, then, not my fault.”
James sighed and reached out to hand Regulus his broom. Regulus weighed it in his hands a moment, considering, before deciding it was good enough. He mounted his broom and hovered a bit, looking expectantly at James to move out of the way.
“Are you going to let him win?” James asked, ignoring Harry’s calls overhead for them to hurry up .
Regulus smiled and rolled his eyes. He took off without a reply.