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The rhythmic tapping against their bedroom window pulled Regulus from sleep. James, warm and snuggled beside him, stirred but didn’t wake fully. Regulus carefully untangled himself from his husband’s embrace and looked to see a small barn owl. He reached for his wand, waving it to open the window. The owl swooped in, dropping a parchment onto the bedside table before perching on the headboard and puffing up its feathers impatiently.
Regulus frowned and sat up properly, plucking the letter from the table and unfolding it.
Disaster! One of the cauldrons exploded. Need you immediately. - Evan
Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. He should’ve known leaving Evan to monitor the potions alone would end in utter catastrophe.
James groaned sleepily and reached out, wrapping an arm around Regulus' waist and pulling him back down onto the mattress.
“No,” James mumbled into his shoulder. “No leaving. Sleep.”
Regulus huffed, amused at his husband’s antics. “Jamie, I have to go. Evan had an accident at the lab.”
“I forbid it,” James mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He buried his face into Regulus’ neck, placing soft kisses against his skin. “It can wait. Five more minutes.”
Regulus exhaled. “If I don’t go, there might not be a shop to return to.”
James made a dramatic sound of distress and tightened his hold, pressing his forehead against Regulus’ neck. “I need you more.”
Regulus smoothed a hand through James’ already messy curls and leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’re very needy in the morning.”
James cracked one eye open, a lopsided smile forming. “You’re warm.”
Regulus rolled his eyes but shifted, carefully prying James’ arms off. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised as he slid out of bed. “Harry will be up in about an hour. Feed him his bottle when he gets antsy.”
James flopped onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. “Mmmh,” he hummed, already falling asleep again.
Regulus arched an unimpressed brow. “James, did you hear what I said?”
James peeked out from under his arm, lips twitching. “Yes, my love.”
Regulus sighed and walked over to the wardrobe, grabbing his robes. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
James chuckled as Regulus casted a quick cleaning charm on himself and dressed swiftly. The owl, still waiting on the headboard, gave an impatient hoot. Regulus scribbled a quick ‘On my way ’ on a stray parchment before tying it to the owl’s leg and sending it off.
As he turned back, James was watching him with half-lidded eyes. “Be careful,” James murmured sleepily.
Regulus paused by the bedside. “Always,” he said, and with a softer tone, “I love you.”
James grinned, eyes still closed. “Love you more.”
As Regulus fixed the sleeves of his robes, he cast one last glance toward the bed. James was already asleep again. Shaking his head fondly, Regulus made his way downstairs to the sitting room.
Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he stepped into the fireplace. “The Celestial Cauldron,” he enunciated clearly before throwing the powder down and vanishing in a swirl of green flames.
The house fell silent in his absence.
For precisely three seconds.
A wail erupted from the nursery, as if sensing that his Papa was no longer home.
James groaned into his pillow. “Oh, come on.”
Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of the warmth of the bed, making his way towards his grumpy baby boy.
James shuffled through the house, still half-asleep, following the wails of his very distressed son. His feet dragged against the wooden floors, hair sticking up in every possible direction.
He pushed open the nursery door with a yawn. “Alright, alright, Daddy’s here, Prongslet,” he mumbled.
Harry was standing in his crib, chubby fists gripping the wooden bars, tears glistening on his round cheeks. His bottom lip trembled, and his tiny shoulders shook with each sob.
James’ heart clenched. “Oh, baby,” he sighed, crossing the room in a few long strides.
The moment Harry saw him, his wails dropped to sniffles. Big, watery eyes peered up at him, clearly upset but at least somewhat reassured. He lifted his arms and made grabby hands, demanding to be picked up.
James immediately obliged, scooping his son into his arms. “There we go,” he murmured, rocking him gently. “Daddy’s got you.”
Harry buried his face into James’ chest, tiny fingers clutching at his shirt. His sniffles softened, breath warm against James’ skin.
“See?” James murmured, pressing a kiss into the soft curls on Harry’s head. “Nothing to cry about. Everything’s okay,” He said, then his eyes widened as he remembered. “Oh, you must be looking for your bottle . ”
Harry, still snuggled against him, let out a whimper at the word.
James sighed. “Yeah, I know. Are you hungry, baby?”
He adjusted his grip, balancing Harry on one arm as he left the nursery and made his way to the kitchen. “Alright, let’s get your bottle sorted before you cry the whole house down.”
James grabbed a bottle from the neatly organized cupboard that Regulus kept meticulously stocked. He added the formula powder, poured in some water, and gave the bottle a firm shake before testing a drop on his wrist to ensure it was the right temperature.
“Alright, there we go.” He settled Harry on his hip and held the bottle to his lips. “Drink up, little man.”
Harry turned his face away.
James blinked. “What’s wrong?”
Harry wriggled in his arms, shaking his head firmly .
“Oh, don’t do this to me,” James muttered, nudging the bottle closer. “C’mon, baby, I know you’re hungry.”
Harry shoved the bottle away with both hands and let out a frustrated whine.
James stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re the one who woke up screaming, you know,” he reminded the baby.
Harry just scowled and turned his face into James’ shoulder.
James groaned. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
He walked around the kitchen, bouncing Harry lightly while making exaggerated sipping noises, hoping to encourage him. “Mmmh, yum. Delicious milk. Don’t you want some?”
James set him in his high chair and tried distracting him with his plush stag, holding the bottle to the baby’s lips while he shook the plushie.
Harry reached for the plushie but clamped his mouth shut.
James groaned, rubbing a hand down his face before hoisting Harry into his arms again. “Come on, Harry, please drink your milk.”
Harry sniffled and buried his face in James’ neck, murmuring, “Papa.”
James groaned. “You’re seriously not going to drink your milk unless it’s Papa feeding you?” He gestured helplessly at the bottle.
Harry made a tiny, miserable noise, confirming that yes, actually, he only wants his Papa.
James rubbed soothing circles into his back. “Alright, alright. We’ll figure something out.”
His eyes flickered toward the sitting room, where Regulus’ work bag sat on the table, left behind in his haste to leave. Inside were neatly labeled potion vials, and among them was a bottle of Polyjuice Potion.
James stilled.
He glanced at the potion.
Then at Harry, who was still sniffling pitifully against his shoulder.
Then back at the potion.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
“Oh,” he murmured, “I am a genius!”
James placed Harry in his little playpen, making sure he was safe and occupied with his stag plushie. Harry blinked up at him with glassy eyes, his lips pulled into a pout. The sight tugged at James’ heartstrings.
“Don’t worry, Prongslet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry’s curls. “Daddy’s got this.”
James turned back to Regulus’ work bag, grabbing the vial of Polyjuice Potion. “Let’s make some magic happen.”
He strode over to their bedroom, heading straight for Regulus’ vanity. His husband’s hairbrush lay beside a collection of neatly arranged skincare potions. James plucked a single black hair from the bristles and held it up triumphantly.
“Perfect!”
Then, with only mild hesitation, he dropped the strand into the vial.
The potion fizzled and thickened into a murky, unappetizing sludge.
James grimaced. “Ugh. For my son,” he reminded himself before tipping it back and taking the smallest sip possible as he intends to transform only for a short amount of time.
It was just as vile as he remembered. Warm, lumpy, and bitter .
He barely had time to gag before a familiar sensation overtook him. His limbs stretched and shifted, his features pulling into something sharper, leaner. His hair was longer, dark as ink, and the next breath he took felt strange , like he had a slightly smaller lung capacity.
James opened his eyes and turned to the bedroom mirror.
His husband’s beautiful face stared back at him.
James grinned. “This will work amazingly.”
His grin quickly dropped as Harry let out an impatient whine from the other room.
James adjusted the now oversized shirt and strode confidently back to the playpen.
Harry looked up and immediately his sniffles quieted .
“Papa!” he squealed, clapping his tiny hands.
James melted.
His son’s face was practically glowing with joy, all previous distress forgotten.
“Oui, mon trésor,” James said in a botched attempt at imitating Regulus’ accent. “C’est moi, Papa.”
Harry’s hands faltered mid-clap.
He squinted up at James, his little baby brain working overtime. Something’s different…
James ignored the deeply skeptical look and scooped Harry into his arms. “Alright, mon cœur, let’s get you fed.”
With an Accio, he summoned the milk bottle and settled onto the sofa. This time, when he lifted the bottle to Harry’s lips, his son eagerly latched on.
James sighed in relief. “There we go.”
Harry suckled contentedly, his little fingers curling around the bottle.
James, feeling quite pleased with himself, leaned back and began humming a lullaby he always heard Regulus hum while swaying Harry gently.
Unfortunately, while James Potter had many talents like playing Quidditch, being an amazing husband and father, and pulling off mischievous pranks, carrying a tune was most definitely not one of them.
The off-key melody had Harry slowing his drinking, blinking up at him with deep skepticism.
James quickly cleared his throat. “Ahem. Just keep drinking, baby.”
Harry squinted at him but ultimately continued.
All was peaceful.
Until Regulus stepped through from the green flames in the floo, brushing soot from his cloak as his sharp eyes swept the room.
Regulus froze. Because across the room, seated on the sofa, was a person who looked like him.
Holding his baby.
Regulus’ wand was in his hand in an instant, gripped tightly at his side. His voice was calm but threatening.
“Put my son down.”
James, who had been enjoying his successful deception, went rigid.
Harry, nestled in James’ arms, turned his head toward the new voice. His bottle slipped from his fingers, falling to his lap as his little brow furrowed.
His big green eyes flicked between the two identical figures.
Papa.
Another Papa.
Two Papas?
His tiny chest heaved. He rubbed his eyes furiously as if that would change what he was seeing.
They were still there.
His breath hitched. His entire body tensed.
A heartbreaking wail burst from his throat, his tiny face turning red as he let out the most devastated sob James had ever heard.
Regulus stepped forward. “I said put. him. down.”
James, still in full oh shit oh shit I fucked up mode, frantically set the crying baby in his playpen. “Okay! Okay! I’m stepping away!”
Regulus’ wand followed his every move as James backed up, hands raised in surrender.
The Polyjuice wore off mid-step .
James barely had time to process the tingling sensation before his body shifted. His shoulders broadening, his limbs stretching back into their usual shape, his messy curls springing free.
Regulus inhaled sharply as his own face disappeared before his eyes, replaced by James Potter’s infuriatingly guilty expression.
The pieces clicked.
Regulus exhaled, slowly, through his nose. His hand holding his wand lowered. “You better have a good explanation for this, Potter.”
James swallowed. “Uhmm…”
Harry wailed louder.
His little face crumpled in distress, tears rolling freely down his cheeks. He scrambled at the edge of his playpen, reaching desperately for Regulus, his real Papa, his tiny body trembling with lingering panic.
Regulus was there in an instant, scooping him up and cradling him close.
“Shhh, mon cœur,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry’s soft curls. “Je suis là. Ne pleure pas. Papa est là.”
Harry clung onto him, his chubby arms tightening around his papa’s neck as he sobbed into his shoulder.
Regulus turned his gaze back to James.
James wisely did not speak.
Regulus took a slow, measured breath before speaking. “You used Polyjuice to turn yourself into me.”
James winced. “Okay, so clearly I wasn’t thinking. But he refused to drink his bottle and he was looking for you.”
Regulus’ voice remained eerily calm. “You used Polyjuice to turn yourself into me… just to trick our son.”
James winced harder. “I mean… when you say it like that, it sounds bad—”
“It is bad!”
James groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I had to do something, Reggie!”
Regulus arched a sharp brow. “And your first thought was Polyjuice? ”
James opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Then sighed. “In my defense, it worked.”
Regulus shot him a look so sharp it could have obliterated him on the spot.
James, feeling very much like a scolded boy, slumped onto the sofa with a groan.
Regulus exhaled slowly, then pressed another kiss to Harry’s temple. Their son, still sniffling but a lot calmer now, was curled against his chest, gripping his bottle comfortably as he drank.
Regulus settled onto the couch beside James, adjusting Harry in his arms.
“I wasn’t aware I had two children instead of one,” he muttered under his breath.
James tilted his head back, letting out a long, exhausted sigh.
“Alright, alright. Lesson learned. I’m sorry, my love. Truly, I am. I just wanted Harry to drink his milk.”
Regulus hummed, still gently rubbing Harry’s back as he resumed feeding him. His other hand, however, gestured sharply as he launched into what was undoubtedly a thorough berating.
James slouched deeper into the couch, rubbing a hand over his face as Regulus lectured him about common sense, responsible parenting, and the absolute insanity of his decision making.
Harry, blissfully unaware of his Daddy’s suffering, snuggled deeper into the warmth of his Papa’s chest, suckling happily on his bottle.
All was right in his little world again.