Chapter Text
The sound of clattering pans jolted James awake.
He blinked blearily at the ceiling, the sunlight hurting his eyes quite a bit. He is slowly registering the thuds, scraping, metal bowls hitting the counters, and something that definitely sounded like Regulus swearing in French under his breath.
James sat up with a yawn. “Only two reasons my husband would be up and about before sunrise: potion making or planning a party,” he muttered. He inhaled and immediately smelled cinnamon. Definitely the latter.
He padded barefoot into the kitchen, rubbing sleep off his eyes and stopped in the doorway, shocked at the chaos before him.
Bowls, pans, and measuring spoons littered every inch of the counters. A faint cloud of flour hovered in the air. Regulus, hair a mess and his silky robe covered in powdered sugar, was simultaneously whisking into a floating bowl with one hand and levitating measuring cups beside him.
Harry, the birthday boy, was curled snugly in a sling pressed tight against Regulus’ chest, his tiny face smooshed into his Papa’s collarbone. Sound asleep. Not a care in the world. He doesn’t even realize the panic in his Papa’s head over his 1st birthday.
“You know,” James said gently, leaning against the doorframe, “when I pictured our son’s first birthday, I didn’t expect you to make our kitchen a warzone.”
Regulus didn’t even flinch. “The bakery delivered the wrong cake. Yellow and green, Jamie! When I specifically asked for blue and gold! The topper didn’t even remotely look like anything I asked for. I wanted a red and blue dragon topper with edible gold glitter and—” He cut himself off with a frustrated growl, aggressively folding the batter with a spatula.
James crossed the room, stepping around a floating measuring cup and a whisk covered in blue icing. “Love, breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re breathing erratically,” James replied, sliding his arms around Regulus from behind, careful not to jostle Harry. “Calm down a bit. Harry’s still asleep. Although, with how deeply he’s sleeping, I think the apocalypse could start and he wouldn’t even notice.”
Regulus paused in his icing, staring down at the sling attached to him. Harry let out a tiny snore.
“I just want everything to be perfect,” he whispered. “It’s his first birthday, Jamie. I wanted… I don’t know. I wanted it to feel special. I want him to know that we tried hard to make the day amazing.”
James kissed his cheek. “You are making it perfect. You’ve been planning this day like it's the event of the century. You’ve already done so much, baby. Our baby knows you love him regardless of whether this day goes well or not.”
“I still have to cook the meals. There’s so much to do and so little time. What if the guests arrive early?” Regulus asked with a frown, biting his lip worriedly.
“I’ll help you, love. We can do this. You and me.” James said, grinning. “Mostly you, but I’ll be your very attractive assistant. Also, I don’t think the guests will dare disobey your instructions.”
Regulus snorted despite himself. “Fine. But if you burn something like you did last year during Monty’s party—”
“I won’t! I promise!” James says, chuckling at the memory.
As Regulus poured the batter into a pan, Harry let out a sigh and curled tighter into his Papa’s chest.
James reached out and gently smoothed his baby’s perfect curly hair. “You know,” he said, “he’s not going to remember the cake. Or the balloons. But he’ll remember how he felt. Safe. Happy. Loved. You give him that every day, my love.”
Regulus didn’t reply, but his stirring slowed, the tension eased from his shoulders, and he leaned into James a little.
“Now,” James said, stepping beside him and brushing a bit of flour off Regulus’ cheek, “how do we tag team this? You do the cake and I start making arepas? Or do you want me to help you with the cake?”
Regulus handed him a cutting board and a pointed look. “You’re not allowed to touch the frosting. You’d finish them all before they even touched the cake. Start the arepas… but please don’t burn anything this time.”
James raised his hands in surrender. “I won’t burn anything, I swear on Harry’s chubby cheeks!”
Regulus exhaled in exasperation and fondness. He began pouring the cake batter into a tin with one hand and summoned spices with the other. James started peeling the plantains but his eyes can’t stop gravitating over at Regulus.
“You know,” James starts, “you don’t have to go all out with the food. The guests will love it. Especially Mami, she loves everything you make.”
Regulus arched an eyebrow. “She’s going to love it even more if it reminds her of home.”
James grinned. “She loves you more than she loves me, you know.”
“Oh, stop it, Jamie. No, she doesn’t.”
“She does,” Jams insisted, slicing the plantains with ease. “You gave her a grandson, I just gave her a childhood full of headaches, grey hairs, and broken windows.”
Regulus made a small, satisfied hum. “That is true. I am her favorite son-in-law.”
“You’re her only son-in-law.”
“Semantics.”
James leaned over and kissed his temple. “You’re ridiculous. And perfect. And all this food is going to make her cry happy tears.”
Regulus simply smirked as he continued to put the baking pans in the oven.
At their feet, little Nyx, a fluffy black kneazle they’d rescued, wove between their ankles with practiced ease. Her tufted ears twitched at every sound, and her eyes locked on the counter like she was hunting prey. Tail flicking with purpose, she looked one twitch away from launching herself onto the chopping board in pursuit of anything edible.
James chucked and reached for a strip of ham from the charcuterie board Regulus meticulously arranged and dropped it on the floor. Nyx pounced immediately, devouring it with the feral enthusiasm of a starving beast.
“James,” Regulus said flatly, without even turning from the mixing bowl full of minced meat, “I just fed her.”
“She’s starving, my love!” James defeated, clearly unrepentant as he grinned down at the purring chubby creature now winding herself around his legs in satisfaction.
Regulus finally turned, spoon in hand, and fixed James with a glare sharp enough to cut butter. “You know she’s overweight because of you. The vet clearly said to reduce treats.”
“Please,” James mumbled, looking away from his husband. “She’s just fluffy!” Nyx meowed as if knowing they’re talking about her.
“I swear,” Regulus muttered, turning back to adding spices in the bowl, “you spoil everyone in this house except me, of course.”
James snorted, reaching past him for some spices. “Please. You’re the most spoiled of us all. Just not with food.”
Regulus raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
James leaned in, voice dropping just low enough to make it a promise. “I spoil you at night.”
Regulus didn’t miss a beat. “Not in front of our baby, Jamie.”
They both glanced down at Harry, still asleep in the sling, snuggled tight with a fist curled in Regulus’ shirt.
“What?” he said innocently. “He can’t understand yet.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks was unmistakable. “Salazar help me when he can.”
Harry continued to sleep peacefully, little snores coming out every now and then, safe in the sling against his Papa’s chest.
By late morning, the house smelled amazing.
Spiced beans simmered on the stove. The air was warm, filled with the scent of roasted garlic, cheese, plantains, and more. Flaky pastelitos waited to be devoured. And the most magnificent one of all is the birthday cake that Regulus remade by hand. It was frosted in dark blue frosting and designed with gold piping, with little red and blue dragons made out of fondant.
James stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, and he let out a low whistle. “We did so good,” he said as he turned to peek at the sling still wrapped around Regulus’ chest. “Didn’t we, prongslet?”
Harry stirred slightly, blinging sleepy eyes up at him before nestling back into the warmth of his Papa.
Regulus was already preparing the banners, balloons, and other decor. His mouth in a frown as he casted a floating charm, trying to see which place the balloons would fit nicely in and which color of ribbons would match the wallpaper best.
James stepped forward and placed a hand on Regulus’ back. “I think it’s time for the birthday boy to get his bath and be dressed to impress the guests.”
Regulus gave a reluctant nod and kissed Harry's curls before carefully unwinding the sling. “You be good for Daddy okay, mon trésor?” he whispered, brushing a thumb over Harry’s chubby cheek. “Papa has to hang about 50 enchanted ribbons and blow a hundred balloons.”
Harry let out a tiny whimper at the separation, his arms reaching for his Papa but he didn’t fuss too hard. The moment he was cradled in James’ arms, he curled into his Daddy’s chest with a resigned little sigh.
James simply chuckled and then headed upstairs.
James made sure the water in the tub was warm and filled it with bubbles that’s designed not to sting the eyes. Harry sat patiently, blinking sleepily but also playing with the floating ducks on the water.
“You’re being such a good boy today,” James murmured, rinsing behind his son’s ears. “Papa’s going to tear up when he sees you in the outfit he prepared. He even got you matching socks, and you hate them, I know, but be patient today because Papa is stressing out over the party.”
Harry giggled, splashing slightly.
“Oi, you naughty boy,” James laughed. “Don’t splash. Be good, okay? Can’t believe you’re already turning one. It’s your first birthday today, my baby.” He paused, voice going quieter. “You’re one.”
The words tasted foreign in his mouth. Like time had passed him by and he hadn’t noticed until now.
He dried Harry slowly, dressing him with gentle hands. The outfit was absolutely adorable on him. A tiny white shirt with little duckling embroideries on it, and little black trousers. James tucked in his shirt, fussed with his curls a bit, and finally lifted him into his arms.
And then it hit him.
Harry looked so much like him. Same brown eyes, same hair but somehow Harry’s was softer. There was so much of him in Harry and so much of Regulus as well. He can see his husband in Harry’s pouty lips and sharp eyes, in the flutter of his lashes when the baby blinks softly up at James.
James sank down onto the nursery rocker with Harry in his lap. When did his baby grow so much?
“You’re growing so fast,” he whispered. “You were just… you were just born. It seems like it was only yesterday that I held you for the first time. You were so tiny. A tiny little thing who can fit in my palm, who only knew how to cry and sleep and drink milk. And now you have opinions, favorite toys. You know so many words already, my smart boy.”
His voice cracked. “Just slow down a little, yeah? Just a tad slower. I’m not ready. Daddy’s not ready.”
Harry blinked up at him, reaching one chubby hand to pat his Daddy’s cheek. Maybe it's out of curiosity or for comfort, James didn’t really know. But it made his heart clench harder.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead and another one on his tiny nose, eyes wet from unshed tears. “You’re everything I ever wanted, prongslet. Everything I hoped for. Daddy loves you so much.”
In a few minutes guests would arrive, and he’d inevitably have to share his baby boy. Pass him from arm to arm, let everyone coo and fuss and fight over who he resembled the most. But up here, in this quiet room, where the sunshine lightly touches them, was just the two of them.
Just James, rocking gently with his son tucked against his chest, whispering promises he wasn’t sure he could keep but damn it if he doesn’t try.
And he held onto the moment with everything he had.