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The cottage was warm, filled with the comforting scent of lavender and the gentle crackling of the fireplace. Despite the cozy atmosphere, a storm raged within its walls. One that came in the form of a very distraught, very grumpy Harry Potter.
At first, everything had been fine.
James had spent the morning playing with Harry, the two of them sprawled across the rug, surrounded by tons of soft toys. Harry’s chubby little hands clapped excitedly as James conjured tiny butterflies from the tip of his wand, making them flutter around the little boy.
“You like that, don’t you?” James grinned, flicking his wand again to make them dance around the giggling baby. “Dada’s magic is very cool, huh?”
Harry giggled louder, reaching for the butterflies with grabby hands. James laughed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his baby’s unruly dark curls.
But then, Harry’s happy little face scrunched up, as if he was confused. He turned his head, looking at the hallway, toward the bedroom James shared with Regulus.
“Papa?”
James froze.
Harry twisted in his spot, looking toward the kitchen now, where Regulus would usually be preparing snacks. Then toward the chair near the fireplace, where he often sat reading.
But there was no Papa.
James swallowed. “Uh... hey, Prongslet, let’s do more magic, yeah?” He waved his wand, sending more butterflies in the air.
Harry didn’t even look. His little lip wobbled. “Papa?”
James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s not here, bubba. He had to go away on a short trip, remember?”
Harry blinked at him, as if trying to understand.
Then the word ‘away’ sank in and his face crumpled.
And just like that, all hell broke loose.
˗ˏˋ ˙⋆✮ ☀︎ ˎˊ˗
Harry, usually the sweetest little thing, was throwing a tantrum the likes of which no one had ever seen. He wailed, his tiny fists curling and uncurling in frustration as he sat in his playpen. His face was scrunched up in misery, his green eyes glassy with tears.
James crouched beside him, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “C’mon, Prongslet,” he pleaded, voice full of exaggerated cheer. “You wanna play with Dada? Look, there’s so many toys!” He picked some up and made them walk around, poking Harry on the nose, hoping to get a giggle.
Nothing.
Harry let out a pitiful sniffle. “Papa,” he whined, his little lip wobbling.
James groaned. “Look! Dada’s here with Uncle Moony and Uncle Paddy!”
Harry was unmoved.
“Alright, move aside, Prongs,” Sirius declared, stepping into the scene with his usual confidence. “It’s Uncle Padfoot’s time to shine.”
Remus sighed from his seat on the couch, already looking resigned. “This should be good.”
“I’m not just good, my moon, I’m brilliant!” Sirius grinned before flicking his wand at the small pile of plushies in the corner.
Immediately, the stuffed animals sprang to life. Harry’s little stag plushie pranced around, its tiny hooves clicking against the wooden floor. A dragon plushie flapped its wings, letting out a soft little roar. A kneazle plushie leaped toward Harry and affectionately nuzzled his side.
Sirius smirked, watching his spell unfold. “See? It’s fun! Right, Pronglset?”
Harry, to everyone’s horror, took one look at the enchanted plushies and let out a terrified scream.
“Merlin’s beard!” James yelped as he lunged forward, scooping Harry into his arms as the wailing reached an ear-splitting volume.
Remus chuckled, watching his partner’s failed attempt at comforting Harry. “I think he’s terrified of them, love.”
“I don’t understand! I thought babies liked moving toys!” Sirius exclaimed, hurriedly waving his wand to stop the enchantment.
Remus chuckled once again. “Maybe he’s too young for that kind of magic.”
The moment James rocked him gently and whispered, “It’s okay, bubba, they’re gone,” Harry sniffled and buried his face in his father’s shoulder.
Remus gave Sirius an amused look. “And what have we learned today?”
Sirius scowled. “That my nephew is far too picky.”
James sighed. “I think the only thing that will make him happy is—”
“Papa,” Harry whimpered.
James pressed a kiss to his son’s curls. “I know, baby. He’ll be back soon, I promise.”
But ‘soon’ wasn’t fast enough for Harry.
˗ˏˋ ˙⋆✮ ☀︎ ˎˊ˗
A few days later, just past sunset, the cottage door creaked. The air was chilly outside, but the moment Regulus stepped inside, warmth filled his chest. He was exhausted from travel, but nothing, not work nor distance, could have kept him from coming home any longer.
He barely had a moment to take off his coat before a small, sleepy voice perked up from the other room.
“…Papa?”
James, who had been dozing on the couch with Harry curled up against him, stirred. He blinked blearily toward the door, then down at Harry.
Harry’s wide, green eyes were suddenly alert. His tiny hands gripped James’ shirt, his little body stiff with anticipation.
“PAPA!”
The baby came toddling toward the door as fast as his little legs would allow.
“Harry, please be careful—” James started, but it was too late.
In his excitement, Harry tripped over his own feet, tumbling forward with a gasp. He landed with a soft thud on the rug, his palms breaking his fall, and for a second everything was still. Then, his face crumpled, and the tears came.
Regulus was on his knees in an instant, scooping Harry into his arms. “Oh, mon trésor,” he murmured, rocking him gently and taking his little hands to give it some kisses. “Shhh, Papa’s got you. I’m here.”
Harry clung to him, sobbing into his chest. His tiny fingers curled into Regulus’ clothes, desperate to make sure his Papa wasn’t leaving again.
Regulus pressed soft kisses to his temple. “Je suis là, mon cœur. Je suis désolé d’être parti. Papa est ici maintenant.”
James stood a few feet away, watching the scene with fondness. “You’re home,” he muttered. “We missed you so much.”
Regulus glanced up, his lips twitching. “I’m here now, my love.”
James smiled and went closer to the two people he loved most. He reached out and gave Regulus and his son a hug, pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lover.
Harry sniffled, his sobs slowing now that he was safely tucked into both his Papa and Dada’s embrace. Regulus rocked them back and forth, whispering sweet reassurances to the baby, until the little one finally pulled back just enough to blink up at him.
“Papa back,” he mumbled, his voice wet from all the crying.
Regulus smiled, gently brushing a curl from his son’s forehead. “Of course, mon ange. I will always come back to you.”
Harry let out a contented sigh, curling against Regulus’ chest. Within moments, he was fast asleep, safe and warm where he belonged.
And as the fire crackled, as the family settled back into warmth and peace, Regulus held both of his loves close, his heart full.
He was home.