Work Text:
“Is that even allowed?” James gawked incredulously.
“Well you know what McGonagall says goes,” Regulus shrugged, casually sipping at his tea.
Harry was in his first year at Hogwarts and first years weren’t allowed to try out for the Quidditch teams. Of course, if anyone could bypass the rules at Hogwarts it was a Potter. “Honestly, how you and Harry weren’t both Slytherin is beyond me,” Regulus had said to James after they received notice of Harry’s first detention on only the second day of classes.
This time, Harry had been goofing around on his broom in class with his new friend Ron, probably showing off. His son has been flying in the backyard since he was two years old, so he had skills far beyond many of the other students. Apparently, his showmanship led to a diving catch and instead of getting detention for pulling a dangerous stunt, like any other normal student would, he became the youngest Seeker to ever grace Hogwarts. Typical , Regulus thought.
When Harry and Ron had burst into his Potions classroom and blabbered on excitedly, shouting over each other, “Blimey, Harry is going to be the coolest student in school” and “can you believe McGonagall didn’t have my head”, Regulus was beside himself with pride for his boy. Finally, he got them to slow down and share the story, nodding and shaking his head. Of course, he scolded Harry for goofing off, then immediately took the Floo home to brag to James about their exceptional son.
“I always knew he would take after me,” James grinned cheekily through a mouthful of sandwich. Since Regulus had been appointed the Head of Slytherin, he didn’t get to be at home as much as he would like during the school year, but he and James always tried to have lunch together as many days as they could.
“Take after you?” Regulus scoffed. “I’m the one who holds the records for Seeker at Hogwarts.”
“Hey, my name is on plaques in the trophy cabinet too,” James cried indignantly.
“Yeah, as a bloody Chaser. Seeker is a much harder position.”
“Don’t start this again. Who had the most House cups?”
“You know you can’t use that argument since we never got to finish the Quidditch season because of the war!”
“You had plenty of other opportunities to beat out Gryffindor in your other four years you played on the team!”
“Yeah, but my sixth year was our team’s best year! Then, we would have been tied.”
“You wish,” James snorted.
Regulus smiled at him over his tea.
“How jealous are you going to be when our son breaks all your records?” James teased. “My name will remain at the top of the plaque, of course, since I’m as you put it so kindly, a bloody Chaser.”
“I suppose if anyone is going to break my records, I would allow it to be him.”
“Oh, you would allow it?” He raised an eyebrow at his husband.
“Well how are you going to feel when he wins more House Cups for Gryffindor than you did?” Regulus retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.
James frowned. “I suppose I would allow it.”
They laughed together, their eyes bright and cheeks pink.
“It’s not fair that you get to see his games and I don’t!”
“Hey, don’t blame me for being the breadwinner of this family.”
“Wow, rude! After all the work I do to take care of our children and make this house a home!”
Regulus rolled his eyes. James paused, then in a softer tone, barely above a whisper, he shared, “I feel like I’m missing out on Harry’s life now. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when Circe turns eleven.”
“Well, you have three years to figure it out with her.” James gave him a half-smile as Regulus put his hand over his. “You know, I felt that way a lot when I was teaching and you were here with the kids, especially once I became head of house and my time was more split between home and work.”
“I’m glad you’re there… with Haz. It’s good for both of you. You’re a great father, Regulus. The greatest.”
“Not as great as you.”
“I love you, Reg.”
“I love you, too. Now, that’s enough sappiness, let’s come up with a plan to sneak you on to Hogwarts grounds to see Harry’s first game.”
It was finally the day of Harry’s first Quidditch match, against Slytherin, of course. It was late September and the air was brisk. Regulus practically had to force feed his son breakfast because the boy was so nervous he couldn’t stomach anything.
He chuckled as he remembered his own first Quidditch game fondly. He didn’t catch the snitch, unfortunately, which resulted in a Howler in the Great Hall from Walburga Black herself; the wench. That was one of the only times the wrath of his parents didn’t faze him.
Flying on a broom, swooping back and forth over the pitch in a strategic manner, floating weightlessly through the air… was the most free he had ever felt in his childhood. Playing Quidditch was his and the monsters that lorded over him at every waking moment could never take that feeling away from him.
He tiptoed into Remus’ classroom. He was wearing James’ invisibility cloak, so there was no reason to be extra sneaky, but McGonagall had been giving him suspicious glances all week. Regulus scoffed at how she suspected him, but didn’t include Remus in that suspicion. Unbelievable. Remus was the mastermind after all. Regulus had never taken part in the Marauders galavanting around the halls of Hogwarts. Publicly, at least.
“Regulus,” Remus greeted, smirking, as he snuck into the doorway of his office.
He threw the cloak off in a huff, messing his perfect curls. “What the fuck, how do you always know?”
“You forget that I grew up with the one and only.”
“Oh, stuff it.”
“You also forget that I’m a werewolf. I could smell you in the hallway.”
Regulus scrunched his nose. “Whatever.”
The other man raised his eyebrows. “Headed to the pitch then?”
They had decided it was best that McGonagall have eyes on Regulus, just in case. In all honesty, she’d probably let them get away with whatever they wanted, but the thrill of the chase made it all the more exciting.
Remus stood and pulled a red sweater that had been hanging off the back of his chair over his head, the Gryffindor logo flashing on the front.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Regulus groaned.
“Chastising me for supporting my House, Professor? You’re wearing a Slytherin scarf yourself.”
“Oh, come off it. Sirius’ old Quidditch shirt though? Really?”
The other man smirked at him as he waltzed back Regulus out of his office, powering through the empty classroom. The ‘Black’ name on the back of the sweater stared Regulus down as he went. He scooped up the Invisibility Cloak, stuffing it into the pocket of his robes and hurried after the man.
They walked along the lawn together, chatting about their students and Harry and the latest books they had been reading until they neared the pitch. “And this is my queue,” Remus said. Regulus saluted him and Remus winked in response. He turned toward the field as Remus made his way to the Whomping Willow.
Regulus had barely settled into his seat in the Professor’s Box when he felt a sharp tug on his robes. He peered through the slats of the benches and saw a bright red flash of hair and a bushy set of curls. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath as two cheeky first years grinned at him.
Quietly, he eased out of his seat, muttering an ‘excuse me’ to Flitwick as he inched past him. He moved into the stairwell and crossed his arms at Ron and Hermione. “You better have a very good reason to be up here or I’m docking points from Gryffindor,” he gazed pointedly at Hermione.
“Sorry, Mr. Black,” Ron stumbled. Regulus raised an eyebrow as Hermione interrupted. “Professor,” she glared at Ron, “it’s Harry. He’s so nervous he can’t even get on his broom!”
“He put his uniform on backwards,” Ron added with a snicker.
“And his shoes on the wrong feet,” Hermione frowned, elbowing Ron for laughing.
“Merlin,” Regulus sighed, rubbing at his face. “Where is he?”
Ron and Hermione exchanged a sheepish glance. “Hiding in the bushes behind the Quidditch locker room.”
Regulus’ robes billowed around him as he hurried toward the locker rooms. The game was getting close to starting and Harry should be out warming up with his teammates. He searched through the bushes until his eyes caught on the red jersey, hanging loosely on the boy’s small frame.
His son was curled in on himself, his knees pulled tight to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs. He lifted his eyes toward Regulus as he slid onto the ground next to him.
“Oh, Haz,” Regulus sighed as he placed his hand on the boy’s head, running his fingers through his curls. Harry relaxed under his palm, but the anxiety was still written across his face.
“What if I mess up?” Harry barely whispered, his bright brown eyes wide with fear.
“Then you mess up,” Regulus shrugged.
“Papa,” Harry groaned.
“You’re going to make mistakes, Harry. It’s all part of the game. It’s how you pick your head up from the mistakes that make you who you are.”
“Still not helpful,” Harry mumbled, dropping his head and burying his face in his knees.
“I know what might help, give me a second.” He shifted in the small space, letting out a yelp as a sharp branch stabbed into his back. Finally, he grasped his wand, buried in his pocket and pulled it out, whispering a quick “expecto patronum”. His other hand was still carding gently through Harry’s curls.
After a couple of minutes, he heard the sharp clap of hooves on the ground outside the bushes. He rubbed a circle on Harry’s back, patted him lightly, then kissed him on the forehead. “You’re going to do great, my star.”
Then he pushed his way out of the bushes and came face to face with a large stag. He chuckled as he reached forward and lightly tapped the animal on the nose, “He’s all yours.” He looked beyond the stag’s shoulder and locked eyes with a large black dog, perched on a rock watching them. “Hi Sirius,” he laughed as he made his way back to the stadium.
“Welcooooooooome to the match of the century. A rival for the ages. The brave, bold, courageous Gryffindor Lions are facing off against the dirty, no good snakes that call themselves Slytherin.”
Regulus snorted as McGonagall chastised Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor first year, who was the new Quidditch announcer. He tried to hold back a laugh as Remus whispered to him, “This might be the best announcer we’ve had in a while.”
Regulus returned, “Maybe the best announcer ever.”
The teams circled the stadium in the air in their V formation as the students cheered loudly, banners waving. Regulus kept his eyes trained on his son, who effortlessly pulled from the formation with a flick of his broom, taking his place at the top of the field. He watched as Harry swung his head back and forth, scanning the crowd until he locked eyes with Regulus.
A warmth filled his chest as the boy gave him a nod and a smile, then tapped his hand against his chest. Regulus returned the smile and tapped his own hand against his heart. A signal he and James had used when they were teenagers, a secret way to say “I love you” across the Great Hall without anyone noticing. They carried the tradition down to their children and it had quickly become a silent way for Harry and Regulus to communicate in Hogwarts without Harry having to embarrass himself too much by having a professor for a father.
Madam Hooch blew the whistle and the players on the field immediately erupted into movement, flashing around the field at high speeds. The only time Regulus pulled his eyes off Harry was when he glanced down to the tree line at the bottom of the pitch and locked onto the odd image of a stag and a hairy dog gazing out on the field, their heads angled to the sky.
Harry was circling above the pitch, his eyes flicking around, surveying the space for a sign of the golden snitch.
“Alright there, Reg?” Remus nudged his hand lightly. It was only then that Regulus realized he was balling his fists, grasping at the fabric of his trousers. He shook the tension out of his hands, gently laying his palms flat on his legs and nodded at Remus, “Alright.”
“Gryffindor scoooooooores! 60-40. Still no sign of the snitch!”
The Slytherin seeker darted in front of Harry, feigning that he had seen the snitch, but Harry knew better; he was sharp. Regulus had spent years faking him out in their backyard in their own family games. When the Slytherin registered that Harry didn’t fall for the trap, Harry just raised an eyebrow and glanced over to Regulus, a cheeky grin splashed across his face.
Remus elbowed him, “That’s the most Prongs look I’ve ever seen.”
“Ugh, I know,” Regulus groaned, running a hand through his hair.
“You love it, you can’t deny it,” his best friend chuckled in response.
“I do,” he said simply.
It was then that Lee Jordan started squealing nonsensically into the microphone, his words running a mile a minute.
“HarryPottertheyoungestseekertheschoolhaseverseenhasspottedthesnitch!”
The boy was simply a flash of color at this point, speeding along the outer edge of the stadium.
“Slytherin scores! 60-60, tie game!”
The Slytherin seeker was hot on Harry’s coattails, gaining speed.
“Slytherin blasts the Quaffle past Oliver Wood with a rocket of a shot, 60-70 Slytherin is up!”
Regulus shifted in his seat. The two seekers were shoulder to shoulder now. Harry was built much smaller than the husky boy on Slytherin, who towered over Harry, even on a broom. His broad shoulders jostled Harry as they shoved back and forth.
The snitch darted up and the boys quickly aimed their brooms higher. Then, the flash of gold shot down toward the ground. The boys tilted their brooms into a nosedive, hurtling straight down toward the Earth at record speeds.
“They’re 100 yards up! 90! 80! They’re moving at rocket speed! 50! Who will pull up first? 30! 25!”
At 20, the Slytherin glanced at Harry and heaved up on his broom, shuddering to a stop and tipping sideways, barely hanging on as he did.
“Harry’s still going! 20! 15!” Regulus jerked his hand out and clutched at Remus’ arm. “10!”
At barely 5 yards above the ground, Harry finally pulled his broom straight up, using his full body weight to level it out. He darted forward, not stopping his momentum and reached forward for the Snitch, his fingers lightly grazing the edges of it. His arms were too short, the snitch was taunting him.
“Oh geez,” Regulus mumbled under his breath as Harry pulled his feet up onto the broom, distancing them out as he began maneuvering his body.
“Harry Potter is STANDING on his broom! I repeat, Harry Potter, in a never before seen move, is now standing on his broom to give him more reach for the snitch.”
The entire crowd was out of their seats, their eyes wide as they watched Harry skim across the grass, barely a yard above the ground, his right arm outstretched. The game above had even slowed down as chasers and beaters surveyed the scene below with gaping mouths as Harry skated along with precision.
Regulus watched as a devilish smirk crossed Harry’s face, which usually meant he was about to do something extremely reckless and probably wildly dangerous. “Oh no,” he groaned at the exact moment Harry dove forward off his broom, careening through the air. His hand wrapped around the snitch a millisecond before he tumbled across the grass, limbs flailing as he flopped to a stop, his legs and arms splayed out as he stared up at the sky.
Everyone gasped and then the stadium was blanketed with a heavy silence. After a beat, Harry shot straight up, then threw his arm in the air, clutching the snitch tightly. The student body erupted with a loud roar.
“Holy shit! Harry Potter has caught the snitch!”
Professor McGonagall smacked Lee across the back of his head. “Language, Mr. Jordan, 5 points from Gryffindor.”
“Oh, fuck it! That was the best fucking Quidditch play I’ve ever seen with my own eyes! Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor fucking wins!”
Remus was practically falling over Regulus with laughter as McGonagall dragged Lee away from the microphone, his string of curse words fading out of the air.
Harry turned and pointed at the Slytherin student section and took a sweeping bow. Remus was crying with laughter. “Oh, that is the most Potter thing he’s ever done.”
“Shut up,” Regulus shoved him, all the while beaming with glee. He watched as Harry discreetly turned toward the forest and tapped his heart three times before being hoisted up in the air by his teammates, cheering loudly.