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“Whatever dad,” the word was spit with venom, and punctuated by a slamming door, “Don’t pretend like you care at all.”
James buried his face in his hands, breathing deeply through his nose.
Raising a kid was hard.
Raising a teenager was harder.
The worst part about raising a teenager was giving them “space,” which James had always been loath to do, so leaving Harry’s bedroom door closed and not immediately barging in there to talk this out was, in a word, torture.
So what should he do? The place was clean, thanks to James’ compulsions and Regulus’ love of the smell of pine cleaner. He supposed he could take a look at those papers he’d been putting off, but he felt like he was too keyed up to do them justice, and his kids had worked so hard on them.
Everyone else was at work.
Fuck.
He settled on a video game, booting up the console and listening for sounds in Harry’s room. He heard him talking, probably to Ron or Hermione or Neville. Not to James though, which was fine. That didn’t bother him at all.
Alice said that Neville would get quiet when they argued; shut himself in his room and listen to his music and talk on the phone or FaceTime or talk to Trevor III. He didn’t yell or slam doors.
Granted, James had always been a loudmouth and Lily had always had a temper, he supposed it was only natural that Harry would be more like them.
He was theirs after all, even though, at times like this, James sort of wished he wasn’t such a complete asshole.
“Teenagers are assholes,” Sirius had said when he’d confided in him, “We were.”
“We never talked to Mum and Dad like that.”
“Sure we did. Okay, maybe not the yelling. But we were assholes.”
James was silent, staring at the painting that Sirius was working on.
“What does Reg think?”
“He says it’s normal too, that even though he says he hates me he really doesn’t.”
“He’s right, and you know how that pains me to say.”
“I just feel like anything I say makes him angry. And it’s just me! He’s not like this with Reg or you or Rem. Especially not Mary and Peter. It’s just me.”
Sirius shrugged, looking at his painting as well.
“He’s just going through a phase, mate. Don’t worry about it.”
But James was worried about it, especially because things hadn’t gotten any better, and were now brought to a head over something as stupid as homework. Homework! Which James had always hated!
He stewed over his video game for an hour before giving it up as a bad job, moving towards the kitchen and deciding to make something very complicated and stupid for dinner.
One good thing about Harry getting older was that he’d been forced to become a better cook. And actually enjoyed it now. Huh, who knew?
He pulled open the fridge, staring at what they had. A good amount of fresh veg, some heavy cream, he could use that pasta that he had made the night before, it just had some garlic mixed in with it…
He set to work, chopping up onions, peppers, and some more garlic, setting them in a saucepan to cook down.
Cooking had become something of a stress reliever for him, which was good, because he was still listening very intently to the silent flat, trying to hear if Harry’s door opened. He knew that they would have to really talk about this, sit down and really discuss what he was feeling and why he had reacted the way he did.
It was so much easier when he was little, he thought to himself, Harry told him everything, and even if he left something out, he was bound to tell one of the others, who would relay it to James.
Treacherously, however, the others had started keeping Harry’s secrets.
Mary had told him point blank that, unless Harry was going to do something to hurt himself, she wasn’t going to tell James what they talked about,
“How am I supposed to parent him if I don’t know what’s going on?” he had demanded of her, outraged at her stance.
“You don’t have to know everything he thinks to parent him,” she laughed at his expression, “And don’t bother asking the others, they’re all on my side.”
James opened his mouth to retort, but Mary continued,
“Including Sirius.”
James huffed as he chopped up some chicken, setting it aside before seasoning.
He knew it wasn’t fair to ask Harry to relay every one of his thoughts and feelings to him, but he thought he’d like a little less vitriol when they spoke to one another, no matter how many times his therapist said that he was doing the best he could and that was enough.
The pit of anxiety of his stomach as the minutes stretched on didn’t make him feel like he was doing enough.
He was just adding the heavy cream into the sauce when he heard the front door open.
Fucking finally, choreo rehearsal days were the worst.
Before he could say so much as hello, he heard Harry’s door open.
“Regulus? Can I talk to you?”
He heard Regulus’ quiet voice from the hallway.
“Of course, let me set my things down and I’ll be right there.”
He peered around the kitchen doorframe, and James felt his heart stutter in his chest. Yeah whatever, he was still in love, that wasn’t a crime.
“What’d you do?”
James threw up his hands, jaw dropped open at the injustice of his assumption.
“You always assume everything is my fault.”
He arched an eyebrow at him.
“Isn’t it?”
James turned bitterly back to his sauce, ignoring Regulus’ low laugh as his footsteps receded down the hall. He heard the click of Harry’s door.
He focused on his sauce and his pasta and his chicken, which was browning nicely in its pan. His food wasn’t going to tell him it didn’t care about him or that he was a bad parent, at the very least.
It felt like a long time before he heard the door open, but in reality, it was probably only fifteen minutes, time enough for him to start the broccoli.
He felt Regulus’ arm wrap around his stomach, felt his lips against his shoulder.
“He tell you what a shitty dad I am?”
“He feels like you’re being unfair to him, but he doesn’t think you’re a shitty dad.”
“Yeah he does, he fucking told me so.”
“And how many times have you said something in the heat of the moment that you don’t mean?”
James turned around.
“Never.”
Regulus snorted, leaning against the counter across from him.
“Sure, and I’m always levelheaded and never sarcastic,” he leaned forward, “Come on. Don’t be sour.”
“I’m not being sour, I’m trying to raise my son. Which includes him doing his homework and not sneaking around with Ron’s sister.”
“I’m not!” Harry’s sharp voice came from the sitting room, where he’d clearly been eavesdropping, followed by the sounds of footfalls and his door closing again.
Regulus chuckled.
“He does his homework, James,” he said carefully, “It’s okay to let him-”
“The grades on his last history test would beg to differ,” James responded pointedly, “You know, history. The subject that I teach?”
“I’ve heard of it,” he was watching him even as James had turned his back on him, focusing on dinner, “Hey, put that down for a second.”
Reluctantly, James flipped the burner of the stove off, turning back around with his arms crossed.
“What?”
“Come here,” he reached out a hand, taking hold of his t shirt and pulling him forward, “I haven’t even said hello to you.”
James moved forward obediently, kissing Regulus gently on the mouth, relaxing as his arms looped around his neck, stretching up and pressing their bodies together.
“Hello,” he whispered against his mouth, feeling it curl up in a smile.
“Hello,” he kissed him again, “Other than this, how was the day?”
“Fine,” he pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, pleased when he made that little sighing sound that James loved so much, “School was good, I have a couple that are worried about their GCSE’s, but I know they’ll be fine. They have time, anyway, we’ll get there. How was yours?”
He stretched in James’ arms, groaning in a way that James thought was indecent and shouldn’t be allowed.
“Oh good, Horace is coming to watch a rehearsal tomorrow. It’s all part of it but- I don’t know, having the artistic director there-”
“Nerve-wracking,” James agreed, “I have to finish this.”
“Do you really have to?” Regulus complained, even as he let him go, settling himself on the counter next to James, “We can just order takeaway.”
James gave him a disbelieving look.
“Do you not see that I’m like eighty-five percent done? That’s so insulting.”
Regulus shrugged.
“We could pass the time another way.”
James bit his lip, taking in Regulus. It was tempting, still so, so tempting.
“You’ll eat this pasta and you’ll like it,” he finally said, adding the broccoli into the sauce forcefully.
“I know I will,” Regulus pulled out his phone, tapping away. They chatted quietly while James finished cooking, finally putting a serving in three bowls and setting each of them on the raised counter in front of the stove.
“Will you call Harry?” he asked, avoiding his eyes.
He heard Regulus huff a little sigh, before he turned back towards Harry’s room.
“Harry, dinner’s ready.”
A pause.
“Yeah, you really do. Come on.”
James did his best to keep his face smoothly blank as Harry emerged from his room, looking sulky and grumpy, and taking his bowl without looking at James, murmuring a quiet, “thanks” before settling himself on the couch, in James’ usual spot.
Regulus gave James a look that plainly said that he was not allowed to start shit over dinner, and James took his own bowl, sitting in the chair Harry usually occupied, and watching Regulus sit down next to him on the couch with badly suppressed frustration.
“So,” Regulus broke the awkward silence of forks clinking against bowls, “How was school?”
“Fine,” Harry was focused on his meal, not looking at either of them, “Hermione’s going skiing over break. She says she knows she’ll hate it.”
“How does she know that?” Regulus asked, all of his attention on Harry.
“Just because she hates PE. I told her it won’t be that bad, at least she’ll be out of London, but she told me she’d rather stay here.”
“And what’s Ron doing over the holidays?”
Harry glanced for a fraction of a second at James, before continuing,
“Nothing. Neville asked his mum and dad if we could go visit his family in Herne Bay, but they said we had to ask our parents before they say yes.”
“Oh,” Regulus looked over at James, “Well, when would that be?”
Harry was really watching James now, gauging his expression,
“From Boxing Day to New Years,” he said eagerly, “I’d be back before school.”
Both of them were now looking at James for an answer. He felt uncomfortable, like he was under a spotlight.
“I dunno, mate,” James tried to choose his words very carefully, “We’re supposed to go see Nan and Grandad on-”
“Yeah,” Harry stood up, his empty bowl clutched in his hand, “I figured.”
He went around the corner, setting his dishes in the sink, and said,
“Can I go to my room?”
“I-” James scrambled, “Yes, but Harry-”
Without another word, Harry stalked back into his room, closing the door behind him.
James sighed, leaning back into his chair, and looking at Regulus,
“What the fuck was I supposed to say there? That felt like a trap.”
“To be honest, I think it kind of was,” Regulus said, standing up to push a hand through James’ hair, “This was really good, thank you.”
“Yeah,” he shook his head, trying to figure out what exactly the right answer was, “I just- We always go see my parents on Boxing Day- I didn’t- I know that-”
“Take a breath, James,” Regulus was kneeling in front of him, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
James took a shaky breath in through his nose, letting it out slowly, and repeating the process until he felt more calm.
“Do you think that, if I took him to one of those parenting classes for new parents, that anyone would ask questions?”
Regulus laughed, pressing a kiss into his hair and taking their dishes into the kitchen.
“Maybe just a couple.”
James followed him, and they put away the leftovers in a companionable silence.
“I sort of trashed the kitchen,” he said, looking around at all the dishes stacked in the sink.
“I’ve seen worse.”
That got a laugh out of James, and they set to work cleaning the kitchen, touching shoulders and giggling up to their elbows in soapy water, like they were kids.
“I’ll finish the washing,” Regulus nudged him with his hip after a while, “Go and talk to him.”
James sighed, looking anxiously down the hall, towards Harry’s door.
“If you hear screaming, phone the police.”
He smiled, kissing James lightly on the cheek,
“You’ll be fine, go on.”
Chewing his lip, James made his way across the sitting room, standing in front of the closed door like the guillotine was waiting on the other side.
“You’re stalling,” Regulus called to him, dishes clinking in the sink.
“You have no proof of that,” he mumbled, but he thought he heard Regulus laugh.
“Hey Harry,” he knocked on his door, “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
He pushed his way inside, taking in the cluttered desk and floor, the frog tank the only spotless thing in the space. Harry himself was sitting on his bed, back against the wall, his phone in his hand. James could see his messages pulled up from the reflection in his glasses.
Neither of them spoke, they just watched one another for several tense seconds.
“Look,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t mean to be so…hard on you but, school- I hated homework too, believe me, I did- But you- You’ve got so much to look forward to, and you may- You may decide you like history, you never know- So- So focusing on your grades is- It’s important right now.”
Harry didn’t say anything, just looked at him with his jaw jutted slightly forward. It was something that Lily used to do when she was angry.
“And-” he took a tentative step forward, “Listen mate, I get that you’re angry that you have to- That school is long hours and everything but- You can still talk to me if- If you wanted.”
Harry looked away from him, chewing his lips like he was biting back saying something nasty.
“You don’t want to hear it,” he finally said, pushing his glasses up his nose and staring daggers at James, “You just want to live your own life.”
James couldn’t suppress the huff of disbelief and annoyance at that.
“Where did you get that idea from?” he said, more snappishly than he had intended, “You know you’re my only priority, Harry.”
“But now you have your classes and Reg and all that shit,” he didn’t even react when James made a noise at the word, “You just want me out of the house so you two can go travelling alone or whatever.”
And suddenly, James realized where all this was coming from. Just the night before, when he and Regulus were sprawled on the couch together, discussing where they wanted to go during Harry’s summer holidays.
“I want to go to Japan or something,” James had said, carding his hand through Regulus’ hair, “But I think you and I should do that, when Harry’s done with school.”
“Just you and me?” he lifted his head up, so that his grey eyes met James’.
“Yeah,” he leaned down to kiss him, “I think so.”
“Harry,” he let out a huge sigh of relief at finally understanding what he was so angry about, “I’m so sorry mate, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that.”
Harry continued to look supremely unimpressed, and he hurried on,
“I didn’t mean it like we had to wait to go somewhere until you were gone, I know it sounded like that but- But it was just that that’s somewhere that I know you haven’t been super interested in traveling to so- I know I sound like I’m making excuses but I swear I’m not sitting here counting the days until you’re done with school,” he crossed over to him, sitting down next to him on the bed, “I would never want you to think that. That was just- Just a future thing. You are always going to be my number one person. Always, Harry.”
Harry was looking down at his hands, but James could tell that he was blinking rapidly.
“You swear?”
“On everything,” he said at once, “Hey, will you look at me?”
Harry looked up at him, his bright green eyes swimming in tears. In a flash, he had crawled across the bed and into James’s arms, crying quietly.
“Oh bud,” James pressed his cheek on the top of his head, “It’s all right.”
“Sorry I’ve been so- So shitty,” he hiccupped, and James didn’t have it in him to tell him off for the swear, “I just- I felt like you were- Like you wanted me gone or something.”
“Never,” he clutched him tighter, like his words were a threat, “I never ever want you gone.”
“Okay Harry sniffled, curling tighter against his chest, “I’m really sorry.”
“That’s okay, Harry,” James’ voice shook too, “But you can talk to me, if you wanted to, about this stuff.”
“I do,” his voice warbled again, “I really do I just thought- I didn’t want you to know I’d heard.”
“I know you’re listening all the time,” James laughed wetly as Harry pulled back, looking horrified, “You’re not as slick as you think you are.”
Harry let out a shaky sigh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“You want me to leave you for a bit?” James asked, “Or I can stay, your choice.”
“If- You’re sure you’re not mad?”
“I’m sure.”
“It- I think I want to be by myself for- For a little while.”
“Okay,” James pressed another kiss into his hair and pulled back, moving across the room, picking his way carefully around the mess, “Well, you know where to find me, we’ll be up for awhile if you wanted to- To talk.”
Harry nodded, eyes rimmed with red, but with a small smile on his face.
“Hey,” James paused in the doorway, “We can figure out something with Neville’s mum and dad, yeah? We can spend Boxing Day with Nan and Grandad and then I can take you down there or- We’ll work it out.”
Harry’s whole face lit up in a smile, which James returned with interest.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
He wiped his eyes again, but his smile burned brighter.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Sure. Goodnight, buddy,” he made to close the door, but Harry said, in a rush,
“I love you, Dad.”
James smiled at him.
“I love you like a bear loves honey.”
Harry lowered his head, laughing.
“Bears don’t even really like honey.”
“Sure they do, haven’t you seen Winnie the Pooh?”
“Will you- Tell Reg I said goodnight?”
“Yeah,” James nodded, “You want me to send him in here?”
“Erm,” Harry shifted, “Yeah if- Yeah.”
“Okay,” he backed out of the doorway, “Night.”
Swallowing, he walked back towards the sitting room, where Regulus was settled on the couch with a book on his lap. The kitchen was dark, he must have already finished the washing up.
“He wants to talk to you for a minute,” James said as their eyes met, “It’s- Nothing bad, really.”
“Okay,” he stood up at once, brushing their hands together as he passed.
James sank down onto Regulus’ vacated space on the couch with a sigh, kneading his forehead with his hands. He couldn’t believe that Harry had thought that he wanted to get rid of him, that he had listened to their conversation and that’s what he had taken away from it. It made him want to claw his heart out of his chest.
He tried his breathing technique again, repeatedly calming himself down only for his anxiety to spike again. He didn’t even notice that Regulus had come back until he sat down next to him on the couch, rubbing soothing circles in his back.
“He tell you?”
“Yes,” he continued rubbing James’ back, “I guess that explains it, then.”
“I can’t believe he thought I wanted to- To get rid of him. Did I- Did I sound like I wanted to get rid of him?”
“No,” he said forcefully, “Look at me, James.”
He did, turning his face, towards him. He looked so gentle, so soft, that James couldn’t help but lean forward, until their foreheads were pressed together.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Regulus murmured, taking his hands in his own, “Harry’s a teenager, he misinterpreted an overheard conversation and ran with it. You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” he repeated, closing his eyes, willing himself to believe it.
They stayed that way for a while, James breathing quietly, Regulus holding his hands. Finally, he sat back up, feeling a little more in control of himself, and tried a tentative smile, which was returned.
“I’m okay,” he sounded stronger, more confident in those words.
“You’re okay,” Regulus pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth.
Letting out a breath, James picked up the book that Regulus had been reading, turning it over in his hands.
“Do you like this?” he asked skeptically.
“You sound like Evan,” he snatched the book out of his hands, “It’s fun, it’s a beach read.”
“A beach read,” James repeated, smirking at him, “Would I like it?”
“Maybe,” he shrugged, “You might be too into your biographies and history books to like it.”
“I resent that,” James pushed his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t, it’s sexy when you talk about history,” Regulus grinned at the look on his face, “What? It is.”
“You’re just saying that because you think everything I do is sexy.”
“That is not true,” he shook his head emphatically, “It is not sexy when you’re yelling at the tv.”
“I don’t yell at the tv.”
“Oh yes you do,” Regulus leaned into his space, “That is not sexy.”
His shift in tone got James’ attention and he kissed him with more bite, with more fervor. He pulled Regulus into his lap, keeping one ear open to make sure that Harry didn’t come out of his room and catch them.
“Mmm,” Regulus hummed against his lips, pulling him closer, his hands in his hair, his tongue behind his teeth.
James wrapped his arms around him, one hand on either shoulder blade. He would never get used to how kissing Regulus made him feel. It made his heart race, his blood rush, his very bones ache, even nearly ten years later. It was a balm to him as well as a stimulant.
He made James feel alive, even now.
“Come on,” James separated them, Regulus whining as he stood up, “Let’s go to bed.”
“I have to shower,” he said, taking James’ proffered hand.
“Not to sleep,” James spoke pointedly, “To bed.”
A pretty smile stretched across Regulus’ face, and he leaned closer to James, pressing into him.
“Harry-”
“He’s got his headphones in,” James said, tugging him towards the bedroom, “I won’t even tell him off for it.”
“Okay,” Regulus laughed, “Okay, I’m coming.”
James pulled him into the dark bedroom, tumbling down onto the bed, falling more in love with him each day than the one before.
“I love you,” he whispered against the bare skin of his shoulder as they lay, tangled together.
“I love you,” Regulus repeated, kissing him again.
“Thanks for doing the washing up,” James felt him laughing, “And for- For everything else.”
“It’s nothing to thank me for,” he said quietly, holding James more tightly in his arms, “I’ll do it every day.”
James fell asleep with a smile on his face at that thought.