Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The party was in full swing — it was the best day of the grooms' lives. Regulus, finally free from his parents’ grasp, was marrying the love of his life. His Uncle Alphard, Sirius, Narcissa, and Andromeda were the only Black family members invited to the wedding. Alphard walked him down the aisle to James, and Sirius gave a speech that made everyone laugh way more than cry.

Every now and then, Regulus glanced fondly at Lily, a close friend of the couple, as if to make sure she was okay — or that she wasn’t drinking anything alcoholic. Not that he actually thought Lily would, but every time he looked at the small bump in the redhead’s belly, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. Soon, the family would be complete.

Regulus was pulled from his thoughts when he heard James laughing brightly.

“Sirius is about to jump ship,” he said. Of course someone obsessed with the sea would want a cruise ship wedding — but that was just James Potter.

The Blacks had never been too fond of the ocean. Nothing too deep, really — Regulus had to admit. It was true: neither he nor Sirius could swim; Uncle Alphard wasn’t much of a fan of the sea either — sometimes Regulus even doubted the older Black could swim at all. As for their parents, well, they didn’t even deserve a mention. They had a pool at Grimmauld Place that they never used. Walburga and Orion had never bothered teaching them to swim. Andy didn’t care either way — she could go years without setting foot near a pool or beach and wouldn’t mind, but she wouldn’t complain if she had to go either.

“Yeah, I know… I’m still gonna teach you how to swim,” James said with that mischievous grin on his face. It was Regulus’s favorite smile. He wanted to kiss him every time he saw it. Not that he didn’t always want to kiss him, but that smile made him want to even more. And that’s exactly what he did: he leaned in and kissed his new husband, slow and sweet.

Regulus loved him so much it actually hurt. A lot of people thought they were rushing things — getting married at 21 and 22, already planning to have a child and build a family. The truth was, they just didn’t want to waste another second. Neither of them could imagine a future without the other. They were happy — wasn’t that what mattered?

“Can I get a picture of the newlyweds?” the photographer asked, approaching the table. James made a sound of agreement and pulled Regulus closer, placing a hand on his back. The ex-Black looked at the camera and gave his best smile. It had been years since he’d smiled like that — so genuinely. But James, instead, looked at his husband like all his dreams had come true. Years from now, anyone who looked at that photo would have no doubt about how deeply they loved each other.

---

Twelve years and four months later

Welcome to Hogwarts

The sign at the camp entrance read. Harry had never seen so many kids in one place. The whole place looked chaotic... Perfect, he thought.

"You gonna be okay, little Hazz?" Lily called to the 11-year-old in front of her. He wore ripped jeans, a black Star Wars T-shirt, a plaid jacket, and bright red sneakers.

"I’ll be fine, godmum. Ron and the twins are here... somewhere," he said with a grin that, in Lily’s opinion, looked way too much like his dad’s. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

"See you in four weeks, mini Prongs." Lily waved one last time to her godson and sighed as she watched him walk excitedly toward the camp. It was going to be hard to be away from him for so long.

Harry bumped into at least four kids the moment he stepped into camp. He looked around, scanning the crowd for a familiar redhead.

"Attention, kids! I’m Albus Dumbledore, director of this camp!" shouted an older man with completely gray hair and a ridiculously long beard, speaking into a megaphone, trying to get the kids' attention.

"Find your luggage immediately! We’ve got a long day ahead!" the old man barked.

Harry kept scanning the area, ignoring the orders, when he spotted another adult — much younger this time — holding a big yellow backpack he recognized instantly. His Uncle Moony had given it to him.

"Alright, kids, listen up!" a woman — now holding the megaphone — started calling out names and assigning cabins.

With a small smile, Harry followed the man to a pile of bags as big as his own and watched as his backpack got tossed on top.

"Yes! I found it!" he said happily, but just as he was about to grab it, more bags got thrown on top, erasing the happy look from his face.

“Oh, come on…” he muttered, trying — and failing — to dig it out.

“Call out the name, rookie. Harry.” The green-eyed boy stopped pulling and turned around when he heard a voice behind him, coming face-to-face with a redhead with blue eyes and a face full of freckles — Ron, his best friend and the only reason he’d convinced Harry’s dad to let him come this year. Ron wore a Spider-Man T-shirt, black shorts, and black sneakers. He and his brothers came to this camp every summer.

“I told you to grab your bag before they dumped it in the pile!”

"You told me a lot of things, Ron... I can’t remember all of them," Harry sighed. "Can you help me get it out?"

"Let’s do it," Ron said, dropping his own bag and joining in the effort.

“You think they need help, Fred?”

“Maybe, George.”

Harry and Ron gave up and turned around to see two older boys, just as redheaded and freckled, taller and clearly stronger.

"Help already," Ron grumbled at his brothers. The twins exchanged a look.

"Odds," said Fred — or Harry thought it was Fred. He’d known them for years but still couldn’t tell them apart.

"Evens," said maybe-George. Both held up fingers, and one clapped. Harry guessed that one was Fred.

The other walked over, muttered something, and easily pulled Harry’s backpack out of the pile, handing it to him.

“Thanks, George.”

"George? I’m Fred, you idiot." The boy grinned, and Harry looked embarrassed.

“Ah… Sorry, Fred.”

"Just kidding. I’m George," he said, and both twins burst out laughing, giving each other a high five. Ron just rolled his eyes.

“Harry Potter!!” the woman with the megaphone called.

“Here!!” Harry raised his hand and shouted.

“Gryffindor!!”

"Yes!!! That’s us! Come on, Harry, let’s check out our cabin," Ron said, pulling him along. "The camp’s split into four teams. Every year, me, Fred, and George end up in Gryffindor. The others too, but Percy didn’t come this year, and Bill and Charlie are too old now."

Harry already knew this — Ron had explained it a million times. The other teams were Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. For some reason, Ron hated Slytherin.

"Good thing you didn’t end up in Slytherin," said a younger redhead girl.

"What’s wrong with Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Little Ronnie just can’t accept that they beat us last summer," said Fred.

"They cheated! They always cheat. A bunch of venomous snakes… No wonder their symbol’s a serpent," Ron muttered, pulling Harry just in time to avoid a passing car.

"Wow, looks like we’ve got another rich kid this year," Fred commented, eyeing the fancy car that drove past.

"As long as he’s nothing like Malfoy," said Ron as they kept walking toward the Gryffindor cabins.

"Who’s Malfoy?" Harry asked, glancing at his friend.

"You don’t even wanna know," Ron muttered, while the twins laughed behind him.

---

“Finally, we’re here,” said a boy with hair so blond it was almost white, stepping out of the car they’d been talking about. The front doors opened. From the driver’s side came a tall, well-dressed blond man. From the passenger side came a slightly shorter boy with brown hair and green eyes, wearing a black turtleneck and a dark blue coat over dark trousers.

“We came all the way from London for this?” Evan muttered, swatting away a mosquito.

“Draco said it’s not that bad,” Timothy replied, waving to the blond boy ahead of them.

“There are some perks,” said Draco.

Last year, Aunt Cissa had sent Draco to the camp as a “punishment,” saying he needed to learn to be more sensitive to others. Dray had hated it at first, but eventually admitted it wasn’t that bad, and so she sent him again this year. He told Timmy’s dad about it, and after a bit of convincing, his father agreed to let him go. Timothy didn’t really know what to expect — he’d never been to camp before.

"Are you sure you’re not overdressed? This is camp, Timmy," Evan said, going to grab the bags.

"My papa said I looked great," the younger boy replied.

"Your dad’s never been to camp, kid," his uncle added, handing him his bag.

"But Draco’s dressed the same."

"Well, I hope you didn’t pack all your best clothes, ‘cause you’ll regret it," the older man warned.

"You won’t even need them. We spend most of the time in these awful uniforms," Draco said, grabbing his black leather backpack.

"See?"

"Alright... let’s go over your dad’s list," Evan said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "Sunscreen?"

"Check."

"Vitamins?"

"Check."

"Bug spray?"

"All good."

"Daily veggie list?"

"Uh-huh..." Timmy answered, less excited.

"Stationery, envelopes, stamps? Photos of your dad, Alphard, Barty, and your favorite uncle — me?"

"All packed..."

"Alright. Take care, brats. And try not to die." He added a look toward Draco too.

"Don’t worry, Uncle Evan. We’ll be fine," Timothy said with a smile.

Evan ruffled his hair.

"Don’t be so uptight. That goes for both of you," he said, heading back to the car. "See you in six weeks."

"Bye. Take care of Papa."

"Always," the blond replied, walking away.

"We almost missed our flight because of you. Why did you take so long?" Draco asked.

"Papa almost changed his mind about letting me come. We’ve never been apart this long."

"Aww, Daddy’s boy," Draco teased in a high voice.

"Shut up. Think we forgot anything important?"

"Nothing that matters. Come on, I made Mum make sure we’re in Slytherin together."

"Hm." Timothy grabbed his bag off the ground and followed Draco wherever he was going.

"Slytherin’s winning again this year."

"You think anyone here plays poker? You’re terrible at it," Timothy said, making the blond roll his eyes.

"Uncle Alphard gave me a new deck. Limited edition."

"Good luck then. I’m sure you’ll find someone."

Chapter Text

Gryffindor's uniform was red with golden details and had a lion symbol. Harry was just finishing getting dressed for lunch with Ron and the others—he only needed to put on his glasses.

"Harry, come on! There’s going to be nothing left for us!" Ron shouted from the doorway.

"I'm coming!" the boy said, glancing at himself one last time in the mirror. He then turned around and went to meet his friend.

The dining cabin was massive. It had four enormous tables, probably one for each house. There were trophies and medals spread across the shelves, as well as photos from previous summers. Gryffindor's own cabin had a place like that too, with trophies the team had won over the years, but it didn’t compare to the main dining hall. Boys from ages 10 to 15 walked everywhere—some had already found their seats and were sitting down, others were lining up to get their food, and some, like Harry and Ron, were just arriving.

The chatter was loud and casual. Ron grabbed Harry’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other and headed together toward the lunch line. When it was Ron’s turn, he loaded up his plate with a little bit of everything.

"I’ll save your spot," the redhead said, and Harry nodded, starting to build his own plate.

"That’s all you’re eating, Dray?" Harry heard someone say beside him.

"Yes, this place hardly has anything appetizing—as usual," replied another voice.

Just as Harry was about to turn and see the boys who were talking, what he saw instead was a tall man with grayish hair and a long beard: the camp director, who had just walked in.

"Excuse me, boys, but I need to grab some of these delicious strawberries..." the man said as he filled his plate with strawberries. He then turned to Harry and asked, "Would you like some, young man?"

"Uh... No, I can’t. I’m allergic," Harry said, making a face at the strawberries. He then took his own plate and walked over to Ron at the Gryffindor table. The old man just shrugged and turned to his left.

"And you, son? Want some strawberries?"

"I’m sorry... I’d love to, but I’m allergic."

"Ah... Allergic, I see," the director said, now focusing more intently on the boy to his left. His blue eyes widened instantly. He quickly turned his head back toward where Harry had been and then looked to his left again.

"You already told me that... How did you move so fast?" The boy, however, looked at him in confusion. "Haha... It’s the first day, you’ll have to excuse an old man," Dumbledore said, turning back to his strawberries. "At least I’m not putting salt in the sugar jar! Hahaha."

Timmy didn’t hear the rest because Draco pulled him away to sit at the Slytherin table, along with the boys in green and silver uniforms.

"Ignore whatever that old fool says. He should’ve retired ages ago," Draco said as he sat down, and Timothy did the same.

---

The next day, something very strange happened to Harry. He was swimming in the lake with Ron and the twins, and when they were getting out in just their swimwear to change, a blond boy with gray-blue eyes wearing the Slytherin uniform suddenly approached them. Ron immediately scowled, and Harry knew right then that this must be Malfoy.

"Timmy, what are you doing with these losers?" he asked, staring at Harry with a mixture of confusion and anger. He completely ignored the Weasley brothers standing behind Harry.

"Excuse me, what?" Harry asked, confused.

"I told you not to mix with this kind of crowd," the blond said, and Harry started to feel annoyed. But the anger quickly turned to surprise when the boy grabbed his hand and began pulling him away. “Didn’t know you were wearing glasses again,” Malfoy said as he kept pulling a very confused Harry.

He kept chattering, but Harry didn’t hear anything else. Once the shock wore off, he stopped the boy from dragging him any further.

“Dude, what is your problem?” Harry asked.

“What?” the boy asked, genuinely confused.

“Look, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“Are you okay, Timmy?”

“My name’s not... Timmy... It’s Harry. And you insulted my friends. Now could you please let go?” Harry said seriously.

The blond let go, looking genuinely surprised. How could someone get another person so wrong? There’s no way he could look that much like this Timmy... What kind of name is that, anyway? Harry stared at the blond for a few more seconds and then turned to walk away.

“That guy’s insane, clearly,” Ron said after Harry told him everything.

---

Three days had passed since Harry had arrived at camp.

“We need someone for the fencing challenge,” Oliver, the Gryffindor leader, said.

“Harry’s good at that,” Ron said.

“That’s right, he used to take classes—” Fred (or George) added, throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Perfect! Go out there and crush them, newbie!” Oliver said, and the others shouted encouragement.

Harry defeated the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff challengers, and the Gryffindor boys were chanting his name in celebration. Now he just had to beat Slytherin, who had also won all their matches.

“Go on, Harry! You’ll win!” Ron said. The cheer wasn’t all that convincing, since his mouth was full of snacks, but it was something.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said. He took a deep breath and lowered his helmet. His teammates patted him on the shoulders, wishing him luck. He turned and saw the Slytherin opponent talking to the rest of his team. He couldn’t see the boy’s face, only his brown hair. The boy high-fived the blond kid from the other day—the one who had confused Harry with someone else. Draco Malfoy, Ron had said. Anyway, Harry lowered the fencing helmet to begin the match.

“Alright, boys! Take your positions!” Hagrid, one of the supervisors, called out. He was a huge man, the largest child Harry had ever seen, with long, dark hair and a beard.

They both took position, moving their swords with flair. Gryffindor and Slytherin were practically competing to see who could yell louder. Harry quickly learned the boy’s name—Timmy—thanks to the Slytherins shouting it. He vaguely remembered Draco calling him that the other day.

They touched swords and shouted: “En garde! Prêt? Allez!”

And the duel began. Timothy started on the offensive while Harry focused on defense. The former pushed him all the way to a tree, but Harry used it to spring back and go on the attack—though Timmy dodged his strikes with ease. Their swords kept clashing as they moved all over the place. Some boys had to run out of their way not to get hit. It was like the whole world had paused, and only the two of them existed.

Harry drove Timothy back to a wooden statue, and thinking he had him cornered, he yelled “touché”—but he only struck the statue as Timmy dodged at the last second, then immediately countered.

“Touché!” Timothy shouted.

Harry blocked, but his sword flew out of his hand. He managed to catch it before it hit the ground.

“Nice catch,” the Slytherin said.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, attacking again.

They kept chasing each other in no clear direction until Timothy managed to land a touch on Harry, winning the duel. But in doing so, Harry lost balance and fell into a conveniently placed tub of water behind him.

“Oops, sorry. Need a hand?” Black offered, extending his hand.

“Thanks...” Harry said. But instead of getting up with help, he pulled the other boy into the water with him.

“What’s your problem?!” Timothy shouted.

“My problem? You pushed me!!” Harry yelled back amid the laughter of the other kids.

“Hahaha! You two put on a great show!!” Hagrid said, approaching them. The two began to stand up, turning their backs to each other and refusing to shake hands.

“Looks like we’ve got a new winner! From London, England, Mr. Timothy Black, representing Slytherin!!!” Hagrid announced. But the Slytherin cheers quickly died down when the boys removed their helmets and faced each other. Everyone went quiet.

The two stared at each other in complete shock. Neither Harry nor Timmy knew how long they had been staring, but were snapped out of it by Hagrid’s loud cough.

“Come on, boys! Shake hands!”

They both swallowed hard. Timothy was the first to raise his hand, and Harry quickly took it.

“Wow, they’re identical,” someone whispered.

“I didn’t know he had a twin brother,” another kid said. Harry seemed to snap out of a trance and said:

“What are you all staring at?!”

The whispering continued.

“Whoa...” Ron said, walking up to Harry.

“Don’t you see it?” Timothy asked, eyes locked on Harry.

“See what?” Potter asked.

“The resemblance between us…”

“Resemblance? Between me and you?” the Gryffindor replied sarcastically, but Timothy could see the insecurity beneath the words. Still, he nodded, and Harry scoffed.

“Let me see... Turn to the side.”

Timmy sighed but turned.

“Now... The other side.”

Timothy rolled his eyes and turned again.

“Well... Your eyes are closer together than mine. And your ears... are huge!”

The Gryffindor kids laughed—even some Slytherins did. Timothy stared at him in surprise, instinctively raising a hand to his ear.

“Your teeth are pretty crooked... And that nose...” This time, even Harry laughed along. “But don’t worry... Those things can be fixed.”

“Ugh, want me to take care of him?” Blaise (a friend of Timmy and Draco) asked, glaring at the Gryffindors.

“Chill,” Harry said, looking at Blaise. Then he turned to Draco and Timothy. “You want to know the real difference between us?”

“Let’s see...” Black said with a smug grin. “Hm... I’m good at fencing and you’re not? Or maybe it’s that I’ve got class and manners, and you... definitely don’t. Were there a lot of cows in the barn where you were raised?”

“I should...” Harry started, but was cut off by Hagrid.

“Alright, alright, boys, time to stop the bickering. Harry, Timothy,” the man said, turning to each as he said their names. “Or is it Timothy and Harry? Goodness...”

Harry sighed and turned to leave. Ron and the twins followed. Timothy felt someone approach from behind.

“I told you there was someone here who looked just like you,” Draco said.

Chapter Text

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Harry?" Ron asked nervously. He was clutching the sleeve of Harry's jacket, glancing around as he was led by the dark-haired boy through the crowd of students.

"Yeah, what’s the problem? It’s just a party. You said they do this all the time here," Harry replied, making his way to the center of the house, where a cluster of boys were crowded around something he couldn’t quite see. He tightened his grip on the pouch of coins he was carrying and gave a little smirk.

At night, everyone would gather for a sort of party, full of games and dares. It was the one time when team rivalries didn’t matter—they even wore regular clothes. That night, it was Slytherin hosting the "party."

"Yeah... but this one’s hosted by Slytherin... Gryffindors don’t usually come," Ron whispered.Harry didn’t get why. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, and with the noise level, he doubted anyone would hear Ron even if he spoke at full volume.

"Rubbish. I heard there’s a poker master here. Last time I had trouble playing with someone was when I went up against Uncle Pads. I want to see if this guy is really as good as they say," Harry said, starting to push his way through the crowd. Ron, still nervous, followed his friend.

Harry stopped abruptly, causing Ron to bump straight into his back.

"Why’d you stop?" Ron asked, rubbing his nose after colliding with Harry.

"You’ve got to be kidding me…" the boy muttered, letting out a sigh at the scene in front of him.

"Sorry, boys… two pairs," said the boy at the table—who looked eerily identical to Harry—as he laid down his cards. Groans of defeat and a few impressed murmurs rippled through the group. Timothy collected the winnings from the table. Most of it was money, but there were also candies, chains, chocolates, and all sorts of other items.

"I’m out," one boy said, and several others agreed.

"That’s it? No one else?" Timothy raised a brow, and it irritated Harry. Maybe this was his chance to get back at him for the water basin incident earlier.

"Harry... just think for a second and—" Ron began to whisper, but Harry wasn’t listening anymore.

"I’ll give it a shot," he said, stepping forward with a mischievous smile and shaking the pouch full of coins. Timothy’s grinning face faltered when he saw Harry. Potter tossed the bag onto the table, and the boys who had heard about the little "feud" between the two tensed with anticipation.

"Let’s do this," Timmy said, starting to shuffle the deck. "Take a seat, Potter."

Black dealt the cards, and the game began. The stakes got higher with every round until they had everything they owned on the table. Harry pushed in all the coins and cash he had, while Timmy matched it with everything he’d just won. Then it was time to reveal the cards.

"I have an idea," Harry said, looking up from his hand and locking eyes with the boy across from him. He was itching for payback over the earlier stunt. "Loser has to jump in the lake after the game."

"Brilliant," Black grinned. Harry smirked and added:

"But… naked."

The surrounding boys let out whoops and whistles.

"Perfect..." Timmy closed his eyes with a smile. When he opened them, he said, "Better start unzipping, Potter… Straight," Black said, laying down a five-card sequence of diamonds.

"Wow... you’re good," Harry admitted, genuinely a little impressed. "Who taught you to play?"

"My great-uncle taught my papa and uncle. And they taught me. You?"

"My uncle, too," Harry replied. "Anyway, you're definitely good, but... not good enough." He smiled nonchalantly and laid down his cards. Timothy's eyes widened when he saw the hand.

"For you… a Royal Flush," Potter said, revealing the 10, J, Q, K, and A—all spades.

---

Laughter echoed around as Timothy Black made his way toward the lake, wearing nothing but the lion pendant around his neck. He let out a sigh when he reached the end of the dock. Ignoring the comments from the others, he shot a cold glare at Harry, who smiled back smugly. Timothy hated swimming—he could do it, but he didn’t like it. Maybe because he hadn’t grown up around beaches or pools.

He turned and dove into the lake.

When he resurfaced, he could hear laughter and the sounds of the other boys heading off. It took him a few minutes to swim back to shore.

"They took your clothes," Draco commented as Timmy approached. Malfoy took off his coat and handed it to Black, who gratefully slipped it on.

"Thanks," he muttered, now covered on top, but still very much exposed below and visibly shivering.

"Wait here. I’ll go grab you some clothes. Unless you’d rather walk back like that?" Draco asked, one brow raised, clearly amused by the whole situation.

"You’d really be helping me out, cousin," the dark-haired boy replied. Draco gave a small nod and turned back toward the camp.

"Alright. If that’s how he wants to play… Get ready, Potter."

And the promise was fulfilled...

Harry, Ron, and their newest friend, Seamus Finnigan, were walking back from the volleyball match. They’d just beaten Hufflepuff and were sweaty, exhausted, and riding the high of victory.

"Can’t wait to hit the bed and sleep ‘til dinner," Harry was saying to Seamus, but was cut off by Ron, who suddenly stopped in his tracks and said:

"Yeah… I don’t think that’s gonna happen," he muttered, eyes wide in disbelief—the same disbelief that hit Harry when he turned and saw three beds, along with their belongings and clothes, sitting outside the Gryffindor dorm. He immediately spotted the "H.J.P." tag on one of the suitcases, along with a small British flag hanging off it. Right then, he knew exactly who had done it.

"That idiot..." Harry muttered. "Just wait — we’ll get back at him tonight."

---

The next morning, Timothy Black, Draco Malfoy, and Blaise Zabini all woke up screaming. Tomato sauce had been poured all over Draco’s hair and clothes—Ron’s idea, since Malfoy once insulted his hair. Now the blonde boy was sporting hair as bright red as any Weasley’s. The more he tried to clean it, the worse it got.

Zabini, startled by Draco’s screaming, jumped out of bed—only to trip a colorful string that dumped a full bucket of blue paint on top of him.

Timmy, dazed by the chaos, carefully slid out of bed, trying not to trip over the many wires crisscrossing the room. But when he stepped on something sticky—maybe honey—he slipped, landed on a string, and accidentally triggered a waterfall of water balloons. Luckily, he dodged most of them.

“He missed me…” Timmy muttered—just as he looked up and saw a much larger balloon falling straight at him. He had just enough time to yell and cover his head.

“That boy... the lowest, most horrible, most wild creature I’ve ever met... must have been raised by horses in a stable.”

Meanwhile, five boys were watching from the window above, cracking up.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Harry joked, making the others laugh harder.

“Nice job, Harry,” said Fred, ruffling Harry’s hair.

“Couldn’t have done it without you two,” Harry smiled at the Weasley twins.

“Did someone say prank? That’s our specialty,” said George with a wink. All the boys turned to the window again, laughing at Draco, who was shouting every insult he knew. Timmy tried to help but looked too grossed out by the red sauce in Draco’s hair—which only made Harry and the others laugh harder.

“Good morning, boys,” said Camp Director Dumbledore as he passed by with Minerva, his right hand.

“Morning, Director!” the boys shouted together.

“Director?!” they repeated, then hurried after him.

“Attention, boys! Surprise inspection!” Dumbledore called through a megaphone. “Cleanest cabin earns points for your time!”

“Oh no, Harry…” Ron groaned, yanking at his hair.

“We have to do something…” said Harry, watching as Dumbledore and McGonagall approached the Slytherin cabin, where Timothy, Draco, and Blaise were hiding out. Harry ran ahead and stood in front of the door, blocking their path.

“You can’t go in there!” Harry blurted. The adults looked at him, waiting.

“One of the boys threw up inside — it’s a total mess!”

“Well… if one of them is sick, we need to check on them right away, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore replied, stepping toward the door—just as Harry blocked him again, narrowly avoiding a bucket of paint from falling on the headmaster.

“Director, maybe try another cabin first?” Harry offered.

“Mr. Potter, please step aside,” Professor McGonagall said firmly.

“I’m telling you, you really can’t go in there because—” Harry started, but stopped when a small window in the door opened and Timothy Black appeared.

“Actually, everything is just fine in here. Unless Harry Potter knows something we don’t,” Timmy said, raising an eyebrow and glaring at Harry. Harry just stared, speechless.

“No worries, Director—open the door and see for yourself.”

“Please, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said, turning the doorknob. The moment he opened it, a splash of brown paint dropped onto him and Minerva, causing her to shriek.

Harry and Timmy froze—that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Startled, McGonagall pushed Dumbledore forward, and he slipped on the honey that the Gryffindor boys had spilled on the floor. Grabbing a shelf to steady himself, he accidentally yanked a string.

“No…” Harry whispered, watching the disaster unfold.

Feathers rained down and stuck to the fresh paint on Dumbledore.

“We did say it was a mess, sir!” Fred called from the doorway, while George struggled to hold in his laughter.

“Oh yeah... he definitely knew that,” George added, pointing at Timothy.

“Me? He did this! And you helped!” Timmy pointed at Harry, then the twins.

“Helped? We just got here!” Fred said, clearly enjoying himself.

An argument quickly broke out between the boys.

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore shouted, quieting everyone. “You two—grab your things!” he said, pointing at Timothy and then Harry.

“You’ll both be staying in the isolation cabin for a while,” said McGonagall, motioning toward a small building in the distance.

“But we’re not even from the same time…” Harry protested.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re also losing a week of activities,” the deputy headmistress said sternly.

“WHAT?!” the boys yelled in unison.

“End of discussion. You nearly destroyed a cabin and humiliated the director.”

---

Harry tried to sleep, but the light kept turning on—Timmy was writing letters, probably to his parents. Harry felt bored and left out, knowing Ron and the others were outside, laughing and having fun. He tossed and turned, trying to sleep with the light in his face.

Eventually, he got up and turned it off—only for Timmy to turn it back on. Then off. Then on again. Back and forth it went.

They had already spent two days in isolation. Suddenly, a storm rolled in and rain started pouring. Even from far away, they could hear the other kids screaming and running for cover.

Timmy was lying on his bed, playing with a deck of cards his Uncle Alphard had given him. Harry was taping pictures to the wall when a strong gust knocked several down. He muttered to himself as he tried to close the stuck window. Timmy came over to help.

“It’s jammed…” he muttered, pushing with all his weight. Finally, they got it shut. They sighed together, in perfect sync.

“Thanks…” Harry said.

“No problem,” Timmy replied with a small smile. An awkward silence settled between them. Harry crouched down to pick up the photos.

“Crap…” he mumbled.

“Let me help,” Timmy offered, kneeling too. Under the bed, he found a stuffed owl and handed it to Harry. “Here… your…”

“Hedwig,” Harry said with an embarrassed laugh, reaching for it.

“Interesting name,” Timmy said. “Any photos get ruined?”

“Just the handsome Viktor Krum,” Harry said, showing a picture of a man Timmy didn’t recognize.

“Who’s that?” Timmy asked, surprising Harry.

“You don’t know Viktor Krum? He’s a famous football player. My dad and I love football Don’t you?”

“We don’t watch much American football in London,” Timmy replied, picking up the last few pictures. “I follow European football a little, but not as much as Draco or my papa.”

“I think I already like your dad,” Harry joked, and both laughed.

“So, where are you from?” Timmy asked.

“California. All the way across the country. Here’s a photo of my house.” Harry handed him another picture. Timmy studied it with awe—it was beautiful, surrounded by greenery. One of the nicest houses he’d ever seen.

“Wow… It’s gorgeous. I thought you were just some random loser when I met you, Potter.”

"Ha, real funny — just 'cause I don’t go around acting like I’m better than everyone else?"

“I do not walk around like that.”

“Well… maybe just a little.”

“I’d love to live somewhere like that. It must be peaceful…” Timmy said, still staring at the photo. “We live in a busy area because of my papa's job.”

“That’s rough too. I’m far away from all my friends. I only see them during school. Visiting is hard,” Harry replied. “Here—this balcony overlooks a vineyard.”

“A vineyard?” Timmy asked, holding the photo.

“That’s where they grow grapes for wine. My dad owns a vineyard,” Harry explained. Timmy listened, but his eyes were fixed on something in the picture.“That’s my dad… He turned away because he didn’t know I was taking the picture,” Harry said with a soft laugh. “He’s my best friend—we do everything together.”

Timmy nodded, quietly walked back to his bed, clearly lost in thought.

“Something wrong?” Harry asked.

“No… just a little cold…” Timmy said, sitting down.

“Yeah, it’s freezing,” Harry said, finishing with the photos and sitting on his bed across from Timmy. After a pause, he asked, “So… what’s your dad like? Does he also promise to talk to you after work and then totally forget?”

“Haha… yeah, he does that sometimes. Then he eventually apologizes.”

“He sounds cool.” Another awkward pause. “And… what about your mom?”

“I… I don’t really have a mom,” Timmy said after a moment. Harry turned toward him. “My papa… he doesn’t like women. I had another dad—or at least I used to. They split up when I was little.” He touched the lion pendant around his neck. “Papa said I was born through a surrogate.”

“No way…”

“What? Are you homophobic, Potter?” Timmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No! It’s just… I also—”

“Wait, what?”

“My dad… I mean, he likes both boys and girls. But I don’t have a mom either. I also had another dad,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Damn…” Timmy muttered. “How old are you?”

“I’ll be twelve on July 31st,” Harry replied casually.

“You’re kidding me?! Me too!!!” Timmy nearly jumped.

“No way!!” Harry said. Timmy looked out the window and noticed the rain had stopped.“Oh! Great, the rain’s done. Want a popsicle?” Harry asked, heading for the door. Timmy hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, noticing Timmy’s face.

“Harry… what was your other dad like? The one who’s not in the photos?” Timmy asked, staring at his pendant.

“I never met him,” Harry said calmly. “They broke up right after I was born — maybe even before. My dad doesn’t talk about him much, but I know he was really, really handsome.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because my dad had a photo hidden in his sock drawer. I kept sneaking peeks at it until he finally gave it to me. When I first saw it, I thought it was Uncle Padfoot—because they look so much alike. But then my dad explained the man in the photo was my other dad.” Harry paused. Timmy still stared at him, stunned. “Timmy… I’m really thirsty. Wanna head to the dining hall for some lemonade or something?”

“Harry, can you please stop thinking with your stomach for one second and pay attention to what’s happening?!”

“What is happening?” Harry asked, confused. Timmy started pacing like he’d just discovered the secret to the universe.

“Think for a second!” he exclaimed. “We’re identical. We were both born on July 31st. We both have two dads, but only know one of them. I bet you were also born through a surrogate, weren’t you?” Timmy’s hunch was confirmed when Harry nodded. “And you also have an old photo of the dad you don’t know, right? I do too! But yours is probably still intact… mine is old and torn in half and… what are you doing?” Timmy asked as Harry dug through his bag. Then Harry showed him something.

“This is… a photo of my dad. And it’s torn in half,” Harry said, staring into Timmy’s eyes — the same eyes he saw in the mirror and in his godmother’s face.

“Torn… right down the middle?”

“Yeah, right in the center.” With that, Timmy ran to his suitcase, grabbed his one photo of his dad, and returned to Harry.

“Don’t flip out, okay?”

“Okay…”

“One… two… three…” They counted together—and on three, showed their photos.

Harry gasped. Timmy stared in silence, shocked. The two photos matched perfectly—two halves of what was once a single picture.

Two young men, dressed nicely — the man in Harry’s half looked directly at the camera, smiling. The man in Timmy’s half was staring at the person beside him with bright, loving eyes and a warm smile. For years, little Black had wondered who his dad had looked at that way — and now he knew. It had been his papa all along.

They seemed to be on a cruise, with a decorative lifebuoy in the background. Timmy had never been able to read the name on it before, but now it was clear: “Order of the Phoenix Cruise.”

“They were on a cruise…” Harry whispered.

“That was the day they got married,” Timmy said softly.

“Look how Dad’s looking at Papa…” Harry said, tears streaming down his face. Timmy smiled.

“He clearly cares about him…”

“Cares? Timothy… he loves him. You can see it in that photo. I’ve never seen dad look at anyone like that before. That’s the way Uncle Padfoot looks at Uncle Moony… and they’ve been together for fifteen years,” Harry said, looking at Timmy, stunned.

“Padfoot? Moony? What kind of names are those?” Timmy asked.

“Nicknames. Dad said when they were at school, they had a group called the Marauders, and each had a nickname: Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs. They used codenames to pull pranks at school,” Harry explained.

“What was our dad’s nickname?”

“Prongs!”

“Harry… do you know what this means? If your dad is my dad, and my dad is your dad…”

“It means we’re brothers,” Harry said, his throat tight.

“It’s not just that, Harry… we’re twins.”

Chapter Text

After a lot of discoveries, tears, and hugs, Harry and Timothy pushed their beds together to make one big bed and talked for hours through the night.

“I still can’t believe I have a brother. I always wanted one,” Harry said. Timmy, who was lying on his back, turned on his side to look at him. “My friend Ron, you know? He has a bunch of siblings—most of them older—and just one younger sister, Ginny. He’s super protective of her, and his older brothers are the same way with him. It must be really nice. I slept at his house a few times and it’s always so fun. They’re constantly arguing, but like five minutes later, it’s like nothing happened and they’re friends again.”

“The closest thing I have to a brother is Dray, who’s my cousin.”

“Really? He’s our cousin?” Harry asked, surprised and excited.

“Well… not by blood, since neither of us were actually born from Papa, but he and Dray are real cousins. And we were raised that way.”

“Dad doesn’t have any brothers or cousins, so I don’t have anyone either. The closest thing I have to uncles are his best friends. My grandparents don’t have siblings either,” Harry said, sounding a little down. He’d always been the only child in the family, and it could get lonely.

“Well… I don’t have grandparents…”

“Tell me more about Papa family?”

“Well, Dray is the son of Aunt Cissy, who’s Dad’s cousin. There’s also Aunt Andy, she has a daughter—our cousin Dora—but she’s a few years older. Aunt Bellatrix lives far away and she’s kind of nuts, she doesn’t have kids. Then there’s Uncle Alphard, who’s kind of like a grandfather to me and Dray. He lives with us. And of course, there’s Uncle Sirius who—”

“What did you say?”

“What?”

“You said Uncle Sirius?”

“Yeah?” Timmy answered, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uncle Sirius is Uncle Padfoot! He’s my dad’s friend and he visits us all the time. He’s my godfather.”

“What?” Timmy said, shocked, sitting up in bed too. “That can’t be… he’s Papa's brother.”

“Of course he is! That’s why they look so much alike. I can’t believe I never asked!” Harry said more to himself than to Timothy.

“So… he’s the one person we both know.”

“Yeah! And it makes sense. He and my dad are super close. They’ve been friends since school. Even after the separation, he never stopped talking to my dad, and—”

“He’s Papa brother, so of course he didn’t,” Timmy finished. After that, they both laid back down and let out long sighs.

“What’s Papa like?” Harry asked after a bit.

“Well… he designs wedding dresses.”

“Really?” Harry asked, amazed to know something about his other dad.

“And he’s getting pretty famous. A princess in Greece bought one of his dresses,” Timmy said proudly.

“Wow…”

“He’s also really nice and plays the piano beautifully. He’s been teaching me.”

“Does he have friends like my dad has the Marauders?”

“I guess something like that… My godparents and Uncle Evan. They’re always at our house, it feels like they live there,” Timmy said with a small laugh.

“It’s the same at my house, but it’s mostly Uncle Moony and Uncle Wormie. Uncle Pads travels a lot for work, but he comes whenever he can.”

“You know what I think is weird?”

“What?”

“Neither Dad nor Papa ever remarried. Papa never even dated. Did our dad ever come close to marrying again?”

“Nope. Never,” Harry said.

They were quiet for a while—not an awkward silence, but a peaceful one. Then Harry suddenly sat up.

“I just had the most brilliant idea! Absolutely genius!” he almost shouted. He turned to Timmy with wide eyes. “Timmy, I’m a genius!”

“What is it?”

“You want to know what Dad is like, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And I want to meet Papa!”

“Okay… I get that. But where’s the genius part?” Timmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Simple! We switch places!” Harry said, catching Timmy totally off guard. The Black twin sat up, staring at him in shock. “When camp ends, I go back to London as you, and you go to California as me!”

“What?”

“We’ll be fine. We’re twins, aren’t we? Fred and George switch places all the time and nobody notices.”

“Yeah, but the Weasleys were raised together and share one brain cell! Harry, we are completely different.” Timmy’s logic was solid, but emotionally… the idea didn’t seem that crazy.

“So what? That’s the fun of it! I’ll teach you how to be me, and you’ll teach me how to be you. We’ve got a few more weeks to figure it out.” Harry’s eyes were shining. “I can even mimic you already. Wanna hear? ‘You wanna know the difference between us? I've got class and manners, and you... definitely, don’t.’ ” Harry said in a perfect imitation of Timothy. The Black twin smiled at the memory.

“I still don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he said, staring at his hands.

“Timmy... what happens after this?” Harry asked gently. “When camp ends, you go back to London and I go back to California. And then? Will we never see each other again?”

Timmy was caught off guard. He hadn’t thought about that. What if he never saw Harry again?

"Well... the truth is..." Timmy began. "If we switch... sooner or later, they'll have to switch us back."

“And when we do, they’ll see each other again,” Harry said, understanding exactly what Timmy meant.

“After all these years…”

“Thanks. I told you I’m a genius,” Harry said smugly, lying back down. Timmy rolled his eyes.

“You know… Dad doesn’t talk much about Papa. But whenever I asked, he answered… just with this look in his eyes. I think it was sadness. Maybe even longing. After a while, I stopped asking. But I think… maybe Dad still loves Papa,” Harry said quietly.

“Then why did they break up?” Timmy wondered aloud.

“That’s something we’ll have to find out,” Harry said. Then sleep finally came.

—

“Timmy? Where are you going?” Draco asked, confused as he saw the boy running out of the dining hall.

“I’m just eating in my cabin, talk later?” the Black called out, already far away. Draco looked confused, even more so when he saw Timmy running with a plate of food… alongside Harry Potter.

“This is Uncle Alphard,” Timmy said, showing a photo of an older man.

“Aww… he’s cute.”

“This is Kreacher, our butler.”

“We have a butler?” Harry asked, stunned. “His name is really Kreacher?”

“No, what kind of person is actually named Kreacher?” Timmy said sarcastically. “But everyone calls him that. Don’t worry—he’s not that bad.” He showed Harry two more pictures: one of two men, a blond and a brunette making a face at the camera, and another of a blonde woman hugging two children—one was a younger Timmy, maybe eight, and the other a little girl with equally blonde hair. “Those are my godfather Barty and Uncle Evan,” he said, pointing to the brunette and then the blond. “And that’s my godmother Pandora—we call her Pan. And that’s her daughter, Luna. She’s a year younger than us.”

The last photo was a big group shot. Harry immediately recognized his dad, Timmy, Sirius, Alphard, Draco, Pandora, Luna, Barty, and Evan. There were also two adult women—one blonde, the other with dark brown hair—each with a man beside them. One hugged a teen girl with short pink hair.

“That was Uncle Alphard’s birthday. That’s Aunt Narcissa, or Aunt Cissy,” he pointed to the blonde. “She’s Dray’s mom, and that’s his dad, her husband.” Then he pointed to the woman with dark hair. “That’s Aunt Andy. Her husband is Uncle Ted, and that’s their daughter, Nymphadora—don’t call her that, she hates it. We call her Dora or Tonks.” He paused. “Aunt Bella’s not in the picture, but don’t worry about her. She probably won’t be around until Christmas.”

Harry listened to it all carefully, trying to take it in. It was strange to think of all of them as his family—an entire side he never knew existed. He held his own photos tightly in his hands.

“These are my best friends,” Harry said, showing a picture of three kids hugging and smiling. “Hermione—she’s spending the summer in France, but she’ll be back before my… our birthday. And that’s Ron, who you’ve already met,” he added with a smile. “Mione’s super smart. I don’t even know why she hangs out with us. Ron gets a little freaked out sometimes, but he’s always there.”

He showed another photo—this one of Harry with the Marauders. “This was my eleventh birthday. That’s Uncle Moony, Uncle Wormtail, and of course, Uncle Pads.”

The next picture showed Harry with the whole Weasley family. He had taken it earlier from Ron’s stuff when he visited the Gryffindor cabin before going back to the isolated one with Timmy.

“Wow... That’s a lot of siblings,” Timothy said.

“Yeah, I’m really close to them, so you should probably know who’s who. That’s the mom, Molly, and the dad, Arthur—I call them aunt and uncle. Bill and Charlie are the oldest. Bill’s in college in France—Ron said he’s got a girlfriend now. Charlie just finished high school and moved to Africa to study. Percy’s the quiet one, always studying. He wants to go to law school at Harvard. Fred and George—you already know. Even I can’t tell them apart half the time. And that’s Ginny. She’s really close with Mione. After Ron, she’s the one I talk to the most.”

***

“This is the living room, and here’s the dining room,” Harry said, showing a sketch of his house’s floor plan. He drew it himself, so it was just a bunch of rectangles and squares. He pointed to one labeled dining room. “But we almost never eat there—only on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and obviously, July 31st.” They both smiled. “Anyway, this is my room…”

***

“Come on. Tell me what’s going on,” Draco demanded. It had been a week, and Harry and Timmy had gone back to their own team cabins.

“What do you mean?” Black asked.

“Why are you suddenly all buddy-buddy with Potter?” Malfoy asked, staring right into Timmy’s eyes—those gray eyes that were the Black family trademark. Timothy used to be jealous of them because they were just like his dad’s.

“We shared a bed for a week. If we didn’t get along, we’d have killed each other,” Timmy said, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just anyone. I know you better than you know yourself. I know when you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about this, Dray?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

“Forget it. Let’s go eat.”

***

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, noticing Timmy’s thoughtful expression.

“Draco said something earlier… and he’s right,” Timmy said.

Harry waited for him to continue.

“He’s known me forever. The second he sees you, he’ll know you’re not me.”

“You really think so?”

“I know. My family—even my papa—we could fool them, because they don’t know we’ve met. But Draco? He knows me too well. And he knows you too. He’ll figure it out.”

“So what do we do?”

“My idea is… we tell him.”

---

"This is a terrible idea," Draco said, sitting on the bed that used to be Harry's. They were in the secluded cabin, where no one would see them.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad…” Harry said.

“Yes it is. I’d expect something like this from you, Potter. But you, Timmy? Agreeing to this?”

“Dray… at first I thought it was insane, but I want to try. I want to know my dad. I want to find out what he’s like. We want to know why they broke up, why they split us up. And if the switch fails… it’ll be impossible to keep us apart afterward.” Timmy was serious. “And I want your help. I want you to help Harry be me.”

“I was gone for one week and you’ve completely lost it… Going to California, sending a look-alike in your place across the ocean, fooling your dad and your whole family—and now you want my help with all of this?”

“Yep,” Timothy said simply.

“…Fine. But you owe me, big time,” Draco replied with a wicked grin. Harry just stood there watching them.

Over the next four weeks, Harry and Timmy gave it their all to learn everything they could about each other. The biggest challenge, surprisingly, was the accent. Harry actually did a much better job mimicking Timmy’s English accent than Timmy did with Harry’s American one—but they still spent a whole week just working on that.

Harry also found out that pretty much his brother’s entire family spoke French. There was no way he could learn French in four weeks, so the plan was for him to focus on learning a few important things—like the nicknames their Papa used for Timmy, and little things like that. Harry also remembered that his grandma was Colombian, and that his dad, James, spoke Spanish too. They only used it when Grandma Effie was around, so Harry wasn’t as fluent as the two of them, but he still decided to teach Timmy a few key words and phrases.

The second and third weeks were all about learning each other’s habits, routines, and personalities (since those were very different). They shared some childhood stories too, and practiced imitating each other’s families—sometimes Harry acted like Timmy while Black pretended to be Papa, and then they’d switch.

“Okay… go ahead and cut it,” Timothy said, squeezing his eyes shut. The two of them were identical, but there were still a few differences—like their hair. Timmy’s was a bit longer, just below his ears. It was easier to cut hair than to grow it out.

“Already regretting this?” Draco asked, amused.

“An eleven-year-old cutting my hair? Why not?” Timmy replied sarcastically.

“Relax, I know what I’m doing,” Harry said, lifting the scissors.

“DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES!” Timmy yelled when he saw Harry shut his eyes to cut.

“Okay, okay, sorry.”

---

“Eh… it’s not that bad,” Draco said. “I thought it’d look worse.”

“Not helping, Dray,” Timmy muttered, looking in the mirror. He and Harry now looked almost exactly alike.

“Oh no…” Harry groaned, still staring at the mirror.

“What now?” Timmy asked.

“My ear’s pierced…” Harry said, showing the earring. Timmy turned pale. Even Draco couldn’t laugh.

“No. No, no, no. I refuse. Absolutely not.”

“So cutting your hair was pointless. I can’t leave home with a pierced ear and come back with it closed. Come on, Timmy. Be realistic.”

“He’s right, you know,” Draco said, and Timmy gave him a death glare.

“We’re gonna need a needle, ice, a lighter, and… an apple,” Harry said.

Harry lit a match and sterilized the needle while Timmy pressed ice against his ear.

“Needle’s clean,” Harry said, getting close.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Timmy whined.

“Don’t worry. I saw my godmother pierce Hermione’s ears. And Ginny’s. And Ron’s. I did mine too. Just close your eyes, and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“Want me to hold your hand?” Draco asked, which could’ve been sweet if he didn’t say it in such a mocking tone.

“I’m gonna punch you,” Timothy snapped.

“Ear ready?” Harry asked, and Timmy nodded. “Just relax, I promise—it’s no big deal. When I count to three, take off the ice. One… two… three!” Timmy squeezed his eyes shut and removed the ice. Harry held the apple behind his ear and pierced it. From outside the cabin, you could hear two screams—one from Timmy and one from Draco, whose hand had been crushed by the grip strength of an eleven-year-old boy.

Chapter Text

“Why did you bring such fancy clothes to a camping trip?” Harry asked, looking at himself in the mirror, now dressed in Timothy’s clothes.

“These are my most casual clothes. Yours, on the other hand, are pretty ugly,” Black said, making a face at Harry’s clothes.

“My clothes are perfect for a C A M P I N G T R I P,” Harry said, emphasizing the word ‘camping.’ “Your ‘casual’ clothes are what I’d wear to a wedding.”

“Forget the clothes—deal with the glasses situation,” Draco called from the bed where he was sitting.

“Yeah, we need to sort that out now,” Timmy said, turning to face Harry.

“If you’ve got vision problems too, why don’t you wear glasses?” Harry asked.

“I used to, but I stopped. I wear contacts now.”

“Why?”

Timothy went quiet for a few seconds before answering.

“One time, Papa accidentally called me James instead of Timmy. It really upset him,” he said, catching Harry off guard. Harry knew he looked a lot like their dad—everyone made sure to remind him all the time. Regulus probably thought of James every time he looked at his son. “I knew I looked like him, so I stopped wearing glasses to not look too much like him.”

“I’m not used to wearing contacts… I don’t even know how to put them in,” Harry said, trying to change the subject.

“If you don’t like them, I’ve got spare glasses at home. Second drawer of the nightstand next to my bed,” Timothy said, beginning to take out his clear lenses. “But until then, you’ll have to wear contacts. Watch how I take them out.”

---

"All that's left is for you to give me your necklace," said Harry, looking at the pendant around Timmy's neck.

“Ugh… Do I have to?”

“Yeah, I think so. Is it really important to you?”

“Papa said my dad gave it to me before they split up. It’s the only gift I ever got from him,” Timothy replied, showing off the necklace with a golden lion pendant.

“I… I’ve got something like that,” Harry said, fiddling with the ring on his finger. “This ring—Dad said it belonged to Papa, and he left it for me.” He showed Timmy the ring with the snake symbol on it.

“Papa will think something’s wrong if he doesn’t see me wearing the necklace…” Timmy sighed and began to take it off, handing it to Harry.

“And he’ll definitely notice if I’m still wearing the ring…” Harry said sadly, slipping it off his finger and trading it for the necklace.

“Take care of it,” they both said at the same time.

***

“Come on, kids! The buses are here!” Minerva yelled, guiding the children toward their buses.

“Promise you’ll call me every day,” one kid said to another. All around them, kids were hugging, exchanging phone numbers and addresses, some even crying during their goodbyes.

“It’s time,” Harry said, hugging Timothy.

“This is such a bad idea, Harry. A really bad idea,” Ron muttered, running his hands through his hair the way he always did when he was nervous. Harry knew that just like Draco would recognize him, Ron would too. And worse—knowing Ron, he’d immediately tell everyone Harry had met a boy at camp who looked exactly like him. The adults would put two and two together, and it would all fall apart.

“It’s gonna be fine, Ron. I’m counting on you to look after Timmy,” Harry said, gripping Ron’s shoulders and meeting his eyes.

“If he’s the one taking care of me, I’m screwed,” Timmy muttered, making Draco snicker.

“If this all goes wrong, I had nothing to do with it,” the blond added.

“Timothy Black! Draco Malfoy! Your car is here,” Hagrid called from beside a vehicle that looked more like a limo than anything else.

“It’s your turn now,” Timmy said to Harry—who was now Timmy. “Remember, try to find out how our parents met.”

“And you have to figure out why they broke up,” Harry replied. “...Take care of Dad for me.”

“And you take care of Papa,” Timmy said, hugging his brother one last time.

“Hurry up, Potter,” Draco said, heading toward the car.

“It’s Timothy now, Malfoy,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

“Draco, don’t mess this up!” the real Timothy shouted, though he didn’t see the eye roll from his cousin.

“Did I mention this is a terrible idea?” Ron asked again, staring nervously at Timmy.

“Relax, Weasley.”

“If Hermione were here…” Ron muttered, imagining the scolding she would’ve given them—and how she never would’ve allowed such a crazy plan. Then again, not even Hermione could stop Harry once he set his mind on something. She would’ve ended up going along with it just to make sure he wasn’t alone. That thought helped calm him down a bit.

***

Harry had never been to London. He had been to Europe a few times — mostly to Italy, since his grandfather Fleamont had a house there, so they had spent a few summers in the country. He had also visited Wales once to see Uncle Remus’s family, and once to France last year with Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. But never London. Now, looking out the airplane window, it was even more incredible than he had imagined.

Draco was asleep beside him, wearing a dark green neck pillow and a black sleep mask. All he was missing, in Harry’s opinion, was a hair bonnet. Harry looked back out the window, anxiety growing in his chest as he whispered to himself:

“Please like me… please like me…”

Normally, when he got like this, he would nervously lift and lower his glasses, but he didn’t have them now. Which only made him more anxious.

*

Harry and Draco had just arrived at the airport. Harry was a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Who’s picking us up?” Harry asked, fidgeting with his hands to try and calm himself.

“My mum’s coming for me, and Barty’s coming for you,” Draco replied, eyeing Harry’s nervous hands with annoyance. “Can you calm down? Your nerves are stressing me out.”

“Oh, sorry if I’m bothering you, Mr. Bothered,” Harry snapped. “But I’m about to meet a father I don’t even remember, and a whole family I didn’t even know existed until a few weeks ago,¡Así que perdónenme si estoy un poco nerviosa!

“What was that? Was that Spanish?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What? Oh—sorry. I slip into Spanish when I’m nervous. My dad and his mother's side of the family are Colombian. I said, ‘Sorry if I’m a little nervous.’”

“Well, try not to be nervous when you’re talking to Uncle Regulus, because Timmy speaks French, not Spanish,” Draco said seriously.

"I know," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. Malfoy really had a gift for getting on his nerves.

"We all speak French," Draco explained, even though Harry had already said he knew that. What a show-off. "The Black family is originally from France. The adults spent most of their childhood there. Timmy and I speak French too, of course."

"Right..." Harry muttered, feeling even more anxious. He remembered that trip to France a few years ago with Sirius and Remus. His godfather spoke fluent French and had mentioned living there at some point, but Harry had been way more focused on all the amazing desserts.

“Draco, darling!!” a voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts. He turned to see a blonde woman walking toward them—Narcissa, he remembered. She pulled Draco into a hug like she hadn’t seen him in years.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you missed me,” Draco mumbled, and she finally let go, turning to Harry.

“Timothy, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you.” His… aunt? She hugged him too.

“You too, Aunt Cissy…” Harry said a bit shyly.

“You cut your hair? You look different,” Narcissa said, and Harry just nodded.

“Oh my God, your ear…” she gasped. “Draco, tell me you didn’t pierce your ear!”

“No, Mum, mine are untouched,” Draco said, rolling his eyes, and she seemed to relax in relief.

“Timothy, does your father know about this?”

“Well, he’s about to find out,” Harry said with an awkward smile. Narcissa sighed.

“Want us to wait with you until Crouch gets here?”

“No need, Mum. He’s already here,” Draco said, his eyes landing on someone in the distance. Harry followed his gaze and saw a tall man with brown hair and sunglasses approaching.

“What’s up, Stellino?” Timmy’s godfather messed up Harry’s hair. His brother had explained that Barty was the only one who called him Stellino. In return, Timothy called him…

“Hey, B,” Harry said, trying to sound confident, but it didn’t come out quite right. This man was his papa's best friend. He was the one who would take Harry to Regulus.

“Well, we’ll get going then,” Narcissa said warmly.

“Say hi to Uncle Alphard for me,” Draco added—oddly gentle? He raised a fist toward Harry with a small smile. “I’ll drop by tomorrow… Timmy.” Harry stared at Draco’s raised fist for a second, surprised. That was the first time Draco had ever called him Timmy—and maybe the first time he hadn’t sounded cold or stiff.

“See you there! Dray…” Harry said with his most confident smile yet, bumping his fist against Draco’s.

With that, the Malfoys left, and Harry was alone with Barty.

“Ready to go home?” That brought the nerves right back. Harry looked at the man beside him and nodded.

“What’d you do to your hair?”

“I cut it. You like it?” Harry asked nervously.

“It’s… not bad,” Barty said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Holy shit, kid, is that an earring?”

Harry let out a nervous little laugh.

“Your dad’s gonna freak,” Barty said, laughing, not realizing how much that panicked Harry.

“You think… you think he won’t like me because of it?” Harry asked, looking down at his feet.

“What? Not like you? He adores you.”

“I… I know, I just… What if he doesn’t like me anymore? After seeing this?” Harry asked, fumbling through the words as he pointed to his pierced ear.

“Well… I think you could walk in with a tattoo, and Reg—after freaking out, a lot—would still love you just the same. It’s impossible for him to stop loving you. But that doesn’t mean he won’t ground you, so no tattoos ‘til you’re legal, alright?”

Harry smiled, nodding, already feeling more at ease.

“C’mon, hit it.” Timmy had told him about the secret handshake he had with Barty. They’d practiced for a whole week, and Harry knew it by heart. People around them at the airport stared at the two of them doing something that looked more like a little dance than a handshake—but neither of them cared.

[***]

London was shining. Harry stared out the car window in awe. He didn’t know much about architecture, but whatever was going on in London was amazing. The city was full of different statues, unlike anything Harry had ever seen. One of them waved at him—and he stared, stunned—until he realized it was just a person pretending to be a statue. He laughed to himself.

The car began to slow, and Harry’s anxiety came rushing back. He was squeezing his hands over and over, his leg bouncing like crazy.

“Stellino, you’ll have to go in on your own—work stuff came up,” Barty said, putting his phone away. “Tell Reg I’ll be by later.”

Harry just nodded. He needed to get out of the car and breathe. He unbuckled quickly and stepped out, calling over his shoulder, “Bye, B!”

***

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been standing in front of his dad’s house. Papa… He was just one door away. Timmy hadn’t shown him pictures of the house, so this was Harry’s first time seeing it—but no description could’ve prepared him for how it looked. The only thing missing, Harry thought, was a bigger yard. The one outside the mansion was small. He was used to having a huge backyard to run around in. What did Timmy do in his free time? He’d have to ask Draco.

It felt kind of sad—Draco knew more about Harry’s own brother than he did. Maybe Timothy felt the same… seeing Ron and Hermione know more about Harry than he ever could. The boy kept thinking, and thinking… but still hadn’t opened the door.

Finally, he took a deep breath, grabbed the doorknob, and stepped inside.

The inside was even more beautiful than the outside. Totally different from his house in California, which had a more rustic vibe. Timmy’s house was modern, with neutral, cozy colors. There was a coat rack near the door, and Harry hung up the trench coat—Timmy’s trench coat.

“P–Papa?” Harry called softly. His heart was pounding, but there was no answer. He started walking through the house, taking in every detail, every piece of furniture, trying to burn it into his memory.

“Papa?” he called again. He reached the living room and saw decorations, balloons, and a banner that read Welcome home, Timmy. Harry smiled sadly. He imagined what it would be like if his parents were together, if he and his brother lived here together. The banner would say Welcome home, Timmy and Hazz. That thought made him want to cry. He hadn’t even realized how much he needed this until now—how much had been missing all this time. And now that he’d found it, he didn’t want to let it go.

There was a piano in the corner, and lots of framed photos all over the room—most of them were of Timothy, from baby to now. Harry smiled when he saw a photo of Sirius playing with Timmy—but he also felt a little angry. He knew. He had contact with both of them. And he never said a word. Harry loved his parents, but he still didn’t understand why they’d done this.

One photo showed Timothy and Regulus playing with a kitten—probably Syd, Harry thought. Others showed Timmy with his dad, with Alphard, Draco, and a girl named Luna… all of them together. Him, Draco, and Dora. His aunts. Just Regulus. Sirius. But none of Harry. Of course there weren’t any of him—his dad probably didn’t even remember he existed.

“Timmy?” a voice called from the other side of the room. Harry froze. His heart stopped. Finally…

He wiped his tears with the sleeve of his shirt and, after taking a few deep breaths, headed toward the voice. What he found was an older man behind a desk—Alphard Black. Uncle Alphard, as Timmy and Draco called him. His brother had said Alphard was like a grandfather to him, so Harry greeted him the same way he did his grandpa Fleamont—with warmth and excitement.

“Hi, Uncle Alphard!” he said, testing the words in his mouth.

“Timmy… is that really you?” Alphard teased, setting down the newspaper to look at the boy more closely. “You look different.”

“I cut my hair…” Harry said, holding back tears.

“I can see that…” Alphard chuckled, getting up and walking over to hug him. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah…”

“Win big at poker?”

“You bet.” They both laughed.

“You know, there was this one boy who almost beat me. He was amazing,” Harry said — though in truth, he was the one who won, not Timmy, but Alphard didn’t need to know that.

“Hm. I’m glad you found someone who could keep up with you,” Alphard said with a gentle smile.

“Timmy?” Harry froze at the sound of the voice. He looked back at Alphard, who gave him an encouraging nod. Harry stepped away from the older man, took a deep breath, and walked out of the office toward whoever had called him.

“Timmy?” he heard again—and this time he saw him.

His papa was by the door, taking off his coat and hanging it neatly on the rack by the entrance.

“You’re back!” Regulus said. He didn’t look too different from the old photo Harry had seen—same haircut, maybe a bit longer. He wore black sweatpants and a navy blue sweatshirt. Harry had seen that face so many times—every night before falling asleep, wondering if his dad would ever come back, even just for a visit. But seeing him in person… it was nothing like imagining.

He really did look a lot like Uncle Pads—but softer somehow. His features were more delicate. He was thinner, maybe even a little taller, Harry guessed.

“Papà…” Harry whispered, earning a bright smile from the man. Regulus stepped toward him—and Harry, without even thinking, ran to him.

They met halfway down the hall between the entrance and Alphard’s office, and before Harry could say anything, Regulus pulled him into a tight hug.

“You’re finally home. I thought that camp would never end,” Regulus said, kneeling down to be at Harry’s level. “Sorry I couldn’t pick you up at the airport—Emmaline had me stuck at the shop. They’re doing the shoot for the new dresses, but I—your hair… it’s shorter. Who cut it for you?” he asked, gently touching Harry’s hair.

“A boy at camp…” Harry said, his voice tight and shaky. “You don’t like it?”

“No, no, it looks great. But wait—” Regulus stopped suddenly, staring at something. “Timmy… you pierced your ear!!”

“Uh… surprise?” Harry mumbled, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. His dad James hadn’t minded when he got it done, but maybe Regulus was more old-fashioned.

“Any more surprises? A nose ring? Tattoo?” Regulus asked, but his tone wasn’t angry. “Look… I’m not mad you got it done. But you could’ve told me, you know? You never really seemed into that kind of stuff before.”

“Yeah…” Harry said with a small laugh through his nose. “They kind of talked me into it… at camp.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Regulus asked, noticing the tears gathering in Harry’s eyes and gently brushing them away.

“Nothing, I just… I missed you.”

“Oh, don’t even start…” Regulus whispered, pulling him in for another hug. “Felt like it’s been years.”

“You have no idea…” Harry whispered, hugging him tighter, the tears finally falling.

***

His papa’s room was amazing. Regulus had gone to help Kreacher fetch the tea — even though the butler insisted he didn’t need any help — leaving Harry alone in the room, and it was incredible. There was a canvas on a stand near the window, the painting still unfinished. A small table beside it held paints and brushes, some of them still damp, as if his dad had been painting just before he arrived.

Syd, Regulus's black cat with bright blue eyes, lay curled up on the bed, watching Harry as if he knew this boy wasn’t his owner. The desk was covered with sketches and pencils, and the walls were full of drawings—most of them dresses. His papa was really talented, Harry thought. There were more photo frames too: pictures of Timmy, of Regulus with Pandora, Evan, and Barty when they were younger, and of course Sirius. Even with all that stuff, the room felt organized, like everything was exactly where it belonged.

Harry was looking at one of the sketches when he heard voices in the hallway.

“Can’t they sort it without me? Timmy just got back from camp,” his dad’s voice said. Harry turned his attention to the doorway, where Regulus stood leaning against the frame, talking on the phone.

“Yeah... Right, I’m on my way,” he said with a sigh and hung up, turning to Harry. “Timmy, would you totally hate coming with me to the studio?”

“No... I’d love to!” Harry replied, a grin spreading across his face.

---

Now he understood why his brother had such a chic style—his dad was just the same. Harry had never seen anyone dress so elegantly.

“So, did you have fun at camp?” Regulus asked as they got out of the taxi. He had spent the whole ride catching Harry up on everything that happened in the last six weeks. In short: Nymphadora would be starting an English Literature course after summer, he had finished a new dress design, and he couldn’t wait for Harry to see it—if it was anything like the ones he saw in the sketches, Harry was sure it would be stunning. Sirius had visited last week and left a pile of gifts for Timmy, which made Harry smile. His uncle always brought presents when he visited too.

“Yeah... I met this boy there, we became really good friends,” Harry said. “He was amazing at poker and totally beat me at fencing.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, he was fun. I really want to see him again...”

“Hm, do you have his number? Maybe we can arrange a hangout.”

“I do. I’ll text him later...” Harry said, just as Regulus stopped in front of a fancy-looking building.

“Do you like it?” Regulus asked, pointing to the window display. There was a wedding dress on a mannequin. Harry didn’t know much about clothes—let alone wedding dresses—but it looked incredible.

“Wow... I love it. It’s amazing.”

“I had to do something while you were off having fun,” Regulus said, stepping inside.

“Ah! Finally! We’re saved!!” someone shouted from inside the store. Harry didn’t waste time following his father in.

There were lots of people. That was the first thing Harry noticed. A blonde woman was wearing a wedding dress—Harry immediately recognized her as Pandora, Timmy’s godmother. Beside her stood a man in a suit, and cameras were pointed at them from all directions, with people fussing around the set.

“Sorry for calling you here, but we didn’t know what else to do,” the blonde woman said, looking down at a part of her dress.

“Timmy!!” Harry heard someone shout, and suddenly he felt arms wrap tightly around him and someone jump onto him. “You’re back!”

“Hey Luna,” Harry said, hugging her back. Luna wasn’t much shorter than him—about the same height as Ginny, maybe a little shorter.

“I missed you,” she said, wearing brightly colored clothes and very strange glasses.

“I missed you too!” Harry said with a genuine smile.

“Timmy!” Regulus called out. “Can you grab me one of those hats?” he said, nodding toward a coat stand full of them, while adjusting something on Pandora’s dress. Harry ran toward the hats.

“Which one?!” he called.

“Whichever you like!”

Harry was drawn to one, but it came in two colors, so he grabbed both.

“Here!” he said, handing them to Regulus.

“Which do you like more?”

“Hmm... this one,” Harry said, pointing to the white hat.

“Me too,” Regulus said with a smile, taking it. “Okay, now place it like this. Yes, push the veil back...”

Harry watched everything: how his father gave directions and everyone followed without question, how he adjusted Pandora’s dress and directed the photographer to the perfect angle.

“Dora, you're getting married! I want tears in your eyes, but make them dramatic!”

“Now turn! I need to see the back of the dress.”

“Are you getting the detail on the stitching?” Regulus asked the photographer.

“Don’t worry about the bouquet. You’ll be married—might as well learn to juggle.”

“Mum loves being photographed in Uncle Reg’s dresses,” Luna said, munching on some pudding. Timmy had told Harry that Pandora was a model and the main face of his dad’s brand.

“My papa honestly the coolest...” Harry said, completely charmed.

In the end, even Harry and Luna got their photos taken with Pandora as a joke. They made silly faces and poses for the camera, and even Regulus laughed at their nonsense.

---

“Papa?” Harry asked on the way home.

“Yes?”

“Designing all those wedding dresses... doesn’t it ever make you want to get married again? Or remind you of that other D word?” he asked carefully.

“D word?” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Dad! Doesn’t it remind you of my other Dad?”

“Oh... that D word,” Regulus said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Harry noticed he seemed nervous. “No, not really. I mean, I wasn’t the bride, so I didn’t wear a dress.”

“You know what I mean, Papa.”

“Why the sudden interest in your other father?” Regulus asked.

“Maybe because you never talk about him! You can’t blame a kid for being curious. Come on, just tell me—what’s he like?” Harry asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity. James was his hero, his inspiration, the person he wanted to grow up to be like. How did his papa see him?

“He’s... adorable, honestly. His smile was, for a long time, the most beautiful I’d ever seen.”

“And now?”

“Let me see...” Regulus said, scratching his chin as if thinking. Then suddenly, he started tickling Harry’s stomach, making the boy laugh out loud in surprise. “There! That one’s my new favorite.”

“Did you meet here in London?” Harry asked, still catching his breath.

“No, actually. Sirius went on an exchange program in high school years ago—our mum sent him to America. That’s where he met your dad and a bunch of other friends.”

“You mean Uncle Siri is friends with my dad?”

“Yeah, your dad had a place in Italy and Sirius went to spend the summer there with him. I... I went to visit your uncle, and well, that’s when he introduced us — and I was instantly smitten with your dad.” Regulus paused, as if he was reliving it all. “When I had to head back to London, we kept in touch. He used to send me letters under Sirius’s name so my mum wouldn’t twig... and I always tried to write back.”

“So my dad’s American and Uncle Siri friend...” Harry said, pretending to be surprised even though he already knew. They stopped while Regulus flagged down a taxi. “So you fell in love at first sight?”

“Oh, come on...” Regulus said, laughing nervously. “I knew it—sooner or later you’d start asking these things,” he muttered as he leaned in to give the driver their address.

Dad... I wonder what you're doing right now? Harry thought, a little sad, a little longing.

*
*
*

Never in his eleven years of life had Timothy Regulus Black imagined doing something this crazy. Meeting his twin — whose existence he hadn’t even known about — switching places with him, and then crossing the United States all the way to California to meet a father he hadn’t seen since he was a baby.

He really should’ve listened to Draco when he had the chance, even if he’d never admit out loud that his cousin had been right. But now it was too late — he was standing in an airport, staring at the face of the man he’d spent his whole childhood looking at through a torn, wrinkled photograph.

“Uncle James is right there,” Ron said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Timmy muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Hazz!!” the man shouted excitedly, walking straight toward him — and before Timothy could react, he was pulled into a tight, strong hug. Really strong. The kind that lifts you off the ground like you’re a puppy and spins you around. Nothing like Regulus’s soft hugs, but just as special in its own way.

“I hope you had fun, ‘cause you’re not going back! I missed you like crazy,” James said in a teasing tone.

“Every dad has to learn to let go, James,” said an older man who had walked up beside them and was now hugging one of the twins with one arm. He had red hair streaked with gray, and Timmy instantly recognized him as Mr. Weasley — it was impossible not to, they looked so alike.

“You say that because you’ve got, what, ten kids? You’re used to it.”

“Seven, actually. And you’re wrong. A father never gets used to it, no matter how many kids he has,” Mr. Weasley said. “Let’s say one of my sons — God forbid — dies. Maybe Fred.”

“Why me?!” one of the twins asked, clearly offended.

“Why Fred?!” the other twin echoed, just as offended.

“He was just the first name that came to mind. Anyway, then Bill dies. That doesn’t mean I’d feel less pain over losing Bill just because I’d already lost Fred, right?”

“That’s a completely different situation...” James tried to argue.

“Would’ve been better if you’d killed off Percy,” one of the twins muttered, making Ron snort with laughter.

“Alright, alright, how about we just head home?” James asked, sounding eager to change the subject.

“Sounds good,” Arthur replied with his usual easy smile.

James grabbed Timmy’s suitcase and headed toward the airport exit. Timothy wasn’t sure what to make of that slightly weird interaction, so he just shrugged and followed his dad.

“You okay, Hazz? You’ve been kinda quiet.”

“I’m fine... I just missed you,” Timmy said, swallowing hard before continuing, “So... how are Uncle Moony, Uncle Pads—everyone, really?”

“Everyone’s good. Missing you like mad. You were gone for nearly two months, kid—lots happened while you were away.”

“A lot happened to me too... I feel like a completely different person now.”
James raised an eyebrow, a little confused by his son’s words, but just shrugged and started unlocking the car.

“So,” James said after a few minutes on the road, “why don’t you tell me about one of these things that happened that made you feel like... what’d you say? A completely different person?”

“Hmm… I met someone. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. It’s like he’s my total opposite, but at the same time we’re eerily alike. At first he really got on my nerves, but then I realised he was actually a lovely chap."

"Lovely chap, huh...?" James repeated slowly, like he was testing the phrase out loud. "All of a sudden you're speaking all proper now?"

Timmy chuckled awkwardly, trying to play it off. It was still hard to mimic Harry’s American slang — the real Harry used a lot of made-up words or said things “wrong” on purpose. Timmy just smiled through it.

“I see you’re still biting your nails.”

“Oh! You noticed?” Timmy looked down at his fingers. He always did that when he was nervous or anxious — which meant he’d basically spent the whole trip gnawing on them.

“Noticed? Harry, you’ve been biting your nails since you figured out how to chew. Hahaha”

“Yeah... but I’ve decided I’m going to stop, Dad. It’s such a horrid habit.”

"First it was 'lovely chap,' now it’s 'horrid habit' — did I send you to summer camp or a finishing school?" James teased, laughing at his own joke. Timmy gave a faint smile. Regulus wasn’t much for joking, so this kind of humor tended to get on his nerves — he could never quite tell when James was being serious or just having a laugh.

“My friend... he’s British. And speaks quite properly. I picked up a few things from him.”

“Yeah, Brits are like that. Always a bit proper.”

“Did you have much contact with British people, Dad?” That question clearly caught James off guard.

“Well, Pads is basically British.”

“Uncle Sirius doesn’t speak that proper,” Timmy said without thinking. Sure, his whole family had pretty wide vocabularies, but Sirius was definitely the most casual out of all of them.

“Well... he used to, back in the day. And yeah, I’ve met other Brits too, y’know...” James trailed off, his eyes drifting a little. Timmy could tell immediately he was thinking about Regulus.

The conversation died off there, and the rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, with James tossing a few questions now and then, and Timmy answering when he could. But he completely fell quiet when he saw the house. The place was massive — way more impressive in person. It reminded him of the countryside house they stayed at in France over the Christmas holidays, only bigger. He saw a pool, lots of trees, plants, and fences, and in front of the house were at least ten people, probably more, all smiling and waving at the car.

When his dad pulled up, Timmy got a better look at the people standing out front. He recognized Lily (Harry’s godmother), Moony—or Remus—his uncle Sirius’s boyfriend. Funny thing was, Sirius talked about his boyfriend all the time, but Timmy had never actually met him… until now. There was also Hermione (Harry’s best friend), a little red-haired girl who had to be Ginny, and a woman holding her hand with matching hair—probably the Weasley mom. His uncle Sirius was there too, which made Timmy nervous. He’d have to act like Harry really well.

As soon as he stepped out of the car, Hermione pulled him into a hug.

“Harry!!”

“Hey, Mione,” he said, hugging her back. Pretty quickly, everyone else was hugging him too. Meanwhile, the Weasley car pulled up, and out came Ron and the twins.

“Uncle Pads,” Timmy said as he got to Sirius.

“C’mere, brat,” the man said, tugging him into a hug. “And don’t let your dad convince you not to go back to camp, alright? You’re growing up—you need adventure! So, did you have fun? Meet anyone interesting?”

“Yeah, actually…”

“Let’s go, Effie’s inside finishing up lunch,” Lily called out, and everyone started heading toward the house.

“Harry…” came a quiet voice behind him.

“Oh, hey Ginny.”

“I, um… I made this for you,” the girl said, holding out a pair of red gloves. “Mom taught me how.”

“Oh… thanks.”

With everyone walking inside, Timmy took a second to really look at the place. So far, he’d seen a pool off to the side, a big porch with rustic furniture, and lots of warm-colored wood pieces—especially reds. And so many windows. Way more than their house in London. “Good thing they don’t have neighbors,” he thought. He’d feel way too watched in a house like this.

Inside, the same rustic style continued. It felt exactly like a summer house you only visit on holidays. The living room was huge and flowed straight into the dining area, no walls dividing anything. Harry had mentioned that once. And just like he said, the table was totally clear—no one using it. Most people were either on the big red velvet sofa (which looked crazy comfy) or gathered around a wooden kitchen island. The twins were on the floor playing some kind of card game with Ginny. Lily, Arthur, and Molly chatted on the couch. And the Marauders, as Harry lovingly called them, were in the kitchen with an older woman Timmy recognized as Harry’s grandma—his own grandma.

James was chopping something at the island, and Euphemia was making some kind of dough, while the other three talked and laughed.

“Ah! Sweetheart!” the older woman said, noticing Timmy. “Come here.” She wiped her hands on her apron and pulled him into a hug. “Monthy had some work to finish but he’ll be here later.” Her accent was different, and Timmy couldn’t quite place it. Not French. Maybe Italian? Spanish?

“La abuela is making ajiaco—your favorite.”

Okay, definitely Spanish. Colombian, maybe?

Timmy wasn’t used to eating much soup, but the smell was unreal.

“That smells amazing…” he said with a sigh, making the old woman laugh before heading back to the kitchen.

He kept looking around.

In one corner, Ron and Hermione were curled up in leather chairs, chatting and laughing. That’s probably where Harry would be. But just as he was about to walk over, something else caught his eye—a big wooden piano. It was beautiful, really stood out in the space. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it earlier.

He imagined Regulus sitting at it, playing, and smiled. Harry never said anything about James playing.

“So, how was France, Mione?” Ron asked from the other side of the room.

“It was nice, but kind of lonely,” she replied. “What about camp? You guys didn’t do anything stupid, right?”

“Of course not…” Ron said with a nervous laugh. But before she could press him, a loud bark echoed through the house.

A huge golden retriever was barking his head off at Timmy. It was Padfoot II (a name Timmy still thought was awful)—Harry’s dog. And the barking was aggressive, like the dog knew Timmy wasn’t Harry.

“What’s wrong with this dog?” Timmy asked, backing up slightly. The idea of the animal jumping him wasn’t pleasant—he’d always been more of a cat person.

“Maybe he’s just confused since you’ve been gone a while,” Hermione said.

“Hey, hey buddy, what’s the matter?” James asked, crouching to pet the dog.

“It’s like he doesn’t even recognize Harry,” Sirius said, suddenly behind Timmy—startling him.

“Maybe he’s just hungry,” Timmy said quickly.

“Well, good thing lunch is ready,” Euphemia announced, and everyone agreed it was time to eat.

“Hey, Weasley,” Timmy said, tugging Ron’s sleeve.

“You better call me Ron here, unless you want people getting suspicious.”

“Does my dad play piano?” Timmy asked, completely ignoring what Ron had said.

“Not that I know of.”

“Does Harry?”

“Nope.”

“Anyone in this house?”

“Never seen it.”

“Then why the hell do they have a piano?”

“Decoration? I dunno, Black. Rich people have a bunch of stuff they don’t even use. Can we go eat now? I’m starving,” Ron said, pulling away. After a second, Timmy followed, swallowing hard.

He still had a hunch the piano had a purpose—and that purpose was named Regulus Black. His dad played piano. James had probably bought it for him and just never got rid of it, even after they split up. Maybe it was just for show… but Timmy didn’t think so.

He sat on the couch with a plate of ajiaco alongside Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins. And in that moment, he had two very clear thoughts:

The couch really was insanely comfortable, 

And the food? Easily the best thing he’d ever eaten.

Chapter Text

Harry hated contact lenses. They irritated his eyes, and he had no idea how Timmy could stand them. So the first thing he did when he entered his brother’s room was rip the damn things out and walk over to the nightstand by the bed to grab the glasses Black said were there.

Then he took the chance to look around the room. It was the complete opposite of his in California. Timmy’s room had barely any color. The walls were gray, there was a desk with a computer in the corner, and above it, a few shelves full of books and decorations like action figures and miniatures. The bed was a double with a dark blue cover. There was a guitar stand next to the desk holding a black guitar, and he had a collection of vinyls from bands like The Beatles and The Stones—plus a bunch of other bands that ended way before he was even born. Why was he into that kind of music? Harry had no clue.

And of course someone as vain as Timothy Black would have a walk-in closet. Seriously, it could fit another bedroom in there. All his “simple” clothes—according to Timmy—looked more organized than Harry’s entire life. Who needs a whole collection of sunglasses? Harry laughed to himself just imagining Timmy’s reaction when he saw his room.

Harry’s room was so chaotic it made Timmy dizzy. It had already been hours since they arrived in California. His—Harry’s—friends were gone, as were most of the uncles and both grandparents. The only ones left in the house were Timmy, James, Sirius, Remus, and Mrs. Sprout (the housekeeper). He went upstairs to unpack and nearly had a heart attack when he opened the door. First off, the walls were painted a super bright red, and there were posters everywhere: football players he didn’t recognize, Marvel superheroes, Star Wars, Taylor Swift—seriously? Taylor Swift? His wardrobe (way too small, by the way) was covered in stickers. All kinds of stickers. There was even a round Spider-Man rug in the middle of the room. His desk was such a mess it made Timmy sigh, and the laptop was also covered in stickers (what was his deal with stickers?). There was a camera too, and Harry had a huge comic book collection.

Timmy took a deep breath before opening his brother’s closet. It was more organized than he expected, so he began his mission to find something a little less... for lack of a better word... ugly.

“Harry?” His dad’s head peeked through the door. “Haven’t unpacked yet?”

“I’m finishing up.”

“Alright, when you’re done, come downstairs, okay?” Timmy didn’t know his dad that well yet, but he could tell he seemed nervous.

“Okay, Dad.” James gave him a quick smile—no teeth—and walked off.

Timmy rushed to finish unpacking. If he were back home, Kreacher would be doing this for him. A pang of sadness hit him. He missed the old butler. Kreacher had always been more than a butler. He was a friend. He also missed his uncles—especially Uncle Alphard. He even kind of missed Draco... and his papa. God, he missed his dad. James was great, and now Timmy understood why Harry was the way he was, but he still didn’t feel like he was home. It was like a part of him was missing. He used to feel this way back in London too, but he always ignored it, thinking he was just being ungrateful. He had everything—good life, family, home—and yet, every now and then, this emptiness would creep in. Like something was missing. He never got it before. But now he did. He wouldn’t feel complete until he had everyone. His whole family. His parents. And Harry.

“Need help with the suitcase?” Timmy turned around and saw his uncle in the doorway. He couldn’t help but tense up. Sirius was the only one who really knew him—knew both Timothy and Harry. Their personalities. Their differences. One wrong move and it could all fall apart.

“Sure,” he replied and went back to unpacking.

"And then..." Sirius began, pulling a pair of Harry’s shorts out of the backpack, "Nothing interesting happened at camp?"

"Yeah, it was a lot of fun. I made a bunch of new friends," Timmy said, avoiding eye contact as he grabbed some clothes and tossed them into the closet—figuring that’s probably what Harry would do, even if he hated it.

"No one special?" Sirius asked, watching Harry closely.

"No, Uncle Pads," Timothy replied. "I spent most of the time with Ron and the twins." That seemed to bother his uncle a little, but he just sighed and changed the subject.

“Has your dad talked to you?” Sirius asked, folding a Star Wars shirt Timmy thought was hideous.

“About what?”

“Forget it.” His uncle said, and Timmy started to get worried. That’s when he heard a bark outside the window. Instinctively, he looked, but it wasn’t the dog that caught his attention—it was the pool. A blonde woman in a swimsuit was lying on one of the lounge chairs, and his dad was sitting near her, chatting and laughing—way too much for Timmy’s taste. Harry had never mentioned a woman like that, not even in pictures.

“Who’s she?” Timmy asked.

Sirius made a face. “Uh… her name’s Hannah. She’s a marketing agent from San Francisco. Your dad hired her earlier this summer to promote the vineyard.” He kept unpacking while he spoke, rolling his eyes so hard it was practically a family trademark. “If you ask me, she’s been selling herself more than the wine.”

“What do you mean?” Timmy moved away from the window to face his uncle.

“Don’t talk trash about Hannah in front of the kid, Pads.” His uncle’s boyfriend appeared in the doorway. He had a face full of scars and looked exactly like the pictures Sirius had shown him.

“I’m not trashing her, I’m telling the truth.”

“Please, do tell more,” Timmy said, not realizing his slip until Sirius gave him a weird look.

"Well, since you’re asking so politely…” Sirius said, giving him a knowing glance before his tone softened. “Look, we all know Prongs isn’t the flirty type. Not since the… whatever. Just look at her. I had to ask myself what a young woman like that sees in a guy who walks around with his shirt untucked and a plate of arepas on your lap

Timmy grabbed Harry’s camera and zoomed in on the backyard. His dad and the woman weren’t at the pool anymore—they were walking through the huge garden. His dad had an arm around her waist.

"So I figured there were a million reasons she was happy with him… and every single one of them led straight to the bank account of a certain idiot with glasses," said Sirius.

“So you think she doesn’t love him?” Timmy asked.

“We don’t know, Harry. She seems happy with Prongs. And so does he.”

“She seems happy with his credit card.”

“Sirius!”

“Well, all I do know is—she's got him wrapped around her finger. They do everything together! Ride horses, swim, go out to dinner every night…” Timmy watched as his dad kissed the woman. His stomach turned. This wasn’t right. He needed to talk to Harry now. “Anyway, go meet her. See for yourself. Don’t let me sway you.”

“You’re saying that after saying all that?” Remus gave Sirius a playful smack on the arm.

“Come on, idiot,” Remus added with a grin. “And Harry—Sirius is just jealous Prongs is spending more time with her than with him. Meet her. You might actually like her.”

“Bambi would never betray me like that,” Sirius said with a wink before heading out with Remus.

[***]

“Oh! There you are, Hazz!” his dad greeted as he walked out to the pool. “Come here, I want you to meet someone.”

Now that Timmy could see her face, she really was very pretty.

“Hi, Harry, right?” Hannah said, flashing a smile faker than the one Draco used at his mom’s charity events.

“Yeah… And you’re Hannah Tully, my dad’s friend, right?” Timmy asked, forcing a smile of his own.

“Wow, I can’t believe I finally got to meet the famous Harry Potter. I’ve been waiting all summer for this!”

“Really? Well… here I am.”

“Oh, Jay, he’s such a sweetheart,” she said, turning to his dad. “The way you talked about him, I expected a little boy—but you’re already so grown up!”

“Thanks… I’m turning twelve. And you? How old are you?” Timmy asked, making both adults laugh.

“I’m 25.”

“Only 14 years older than me… And how old are you, Dad?”

“Wow, suddenly you’re into math?” his dad joked. Harry probably would’ve laughed at that. Timmy didn’t.

“Anyway, I’m going inside to grab some more gelato—and maybe some champagne to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Timmy asked, confused.

“Your return from camp, of course,” the woman replied. Honestly, compared to her smile, Draco’s fake charity smile was Oscar-worthy.

“Right… I’ll be right back,” his dad said, heading inside. Seconds later, Hannah’s phone rang and she answered immediately.

“Oh, hello, Reverend…” she said, but Timmy didn’t care. He went to sit at the edge of the pool. He didn’t like swimming. He knew why—when they were younger, Narcissa had tried putting Draco in swim classes, and Draco practically begged Timmy to go too. That’s when Timmy confirmed it: he hated swimming. He took forever to learn and rarely went in pools.

“I know it’s for charity… I know it’s worth it, but unfortunately Mr. Potter will be out of the country during that time… Yes, it’s a shame… Yes, I’ll let him know… Thank you, sir…” She hung up and looked back at Timmy. “So, Hazz… How was camp?”

“Is it true my dad’s going to be out of the country?”

“Oh… no, that was just a little white lie to get him out of something.” Out of a charity event? Was this woman insane? Did his dad even know she was doing this? “You know, your dad talks about you all the time. It’s so sweet how close you two are…”

“We’re more than close, you know? We’re everything to each other.” Timmy said, and he hated swimming—but sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. So he stood up and cannonballed into the pool, sending water everywhere.

“AH!”

“Oh… Did I splash you? Sorry, sweetheart.” If she wanted to play fake smile games—he could play too.

*
*
*

Harry slept on cloud nine last night—Timmy’s bed was that comfortable. He awoke to the butler announcing that breakfast was served. This was a brand‑new experience for him. Back in Napa during the holidays, he could wake up whenever he liked and eat whenever felt right. They rarely sat at the dining table—only on special occasions like Thanksgiving, Christmas, or his birthday. On regular days, they either ate outdoors or, as Harry preferred, watched TV in the living room while snacking.

Coming downstairs, Harry found his dad and Alphard already at the table, tuckered into their meal.

“Good morning,” Harry said, taking a seat.

“Good morning, darling… how are you—” his father began, then paused mid-sentence. “Oh, it’s rare to see you sporting your glasses.”

“Oh, I… The contacts were a bit annoying this morning. I can put them back in if you like—I mean…”

“Timmy, I’m not complaining, just a bit taken aback, you look smashing,” Regulus said, smiling kindly.

“I missed the specs. You ought to wear them more often,” Alphard chimed in, sounding amused. Harry grinned.

“Where’s the coffee?” Harry asked, scanning the table.

“Since when do you enjoy coffee?” Regulus inquired, furrowing his brow. Alphard looked equally bemused.

“Well, there was plenty of coffee at camp… I kind of got into it.”

“I see…” Regulus’s phone buzzed, cutting off his thought. “One moment, love. Oh, hello, Emmaline? Yes, I’m nearly done with the sketch… Don’t worry, it’ll be finished in time… Yes…” He rose and drifted off to finish the call elsewhere. Before leaving, he tousled Harry's hair gently. “Yes, I already spoke with her…”

“Haha, I say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat this much, Timmy,” Alphard remarked with a chuckle, eyeing Harry’s plate. Harry didn’t think it was excessive—two slices of cake, toast, eggs and bacon, sausage, and orange juice. Not his favourite juice, but the only other option was tea, and Harry wasn’t keen on tea. There were even baked beans on the table—who eats beans for breakfast? (The Brits were odd, apparently.) Still, it was perfectly normal in his book.

“I’m in a growth spurt,” Harry said, biting into his toast.

“Papa, may I come in?” Harry asked at the door of Regulus’s room. His dad was lying on the bed sketching in his notebook.

“Of course, love—come on in,” he replied without taking his eyes off the drawing. It was only after Harry sat beside him that he looked up.

“Are you terribly busy?” Harry asked shyly.

“Nearly finished this sketch. What do you reckon?” Regulus showed the drawing to Harry—it was stunning: intricate, balanced, extravagant but not overdone.

“It’s incredible.”

“Do you think so? It’s for Dorcas,” Regulus said, returning to the drawing. “She’ll look absolutely radiant in this dress. I can’t wait to see Marlene’s reaction.”

Harry was surprised—he knew Marlene and Dorcas were friends of his dad, and he’d seen them a few times. So their parents did still share mutual friends?

“What did you want, love?” Harry snapped out of his daze.

“Oh, right… I was wondering if we could go out tonight? For dinner or something… I haven’t seen you in ages…” Harry looked at the floor, feeling his cheeks flush. “But I don’t want to bother you. If you’re busy, we can do it another day…”

“Timmy, look at me,” Regulus said, gently lifting his chin. Something broke inside Harry when his papa called him Timmy—he’d almost forgotten that small detail.

“I’ll never be too busy for you, okay? You’re right—it’s been far too long since just the two of us spent time together. Let’s do it tonight.”

“All right,” Harry said, tears threatening his eyes.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” His dad pulled him into an embrace. It wasn’t quite as fierce as James’s bear hugs—it was gentle and subtle—but it carried the same warmth and safety. Harry didn’t want to let go. He wanted to stay wrapped up like that forever, held by both of his dads.

“You’ve been so emotional since you arrived. Did something happen?”

“I just didn’t realise how much I missed you until I had you again…”

“But you always had me, mon amour,” Regulus murmured, resting his chin on Harry's head and smoothing his hair.

“Again. I meant since I got you again,” Harry corrected softly, keeping his face pressed to his dad’s chest. His glasses were crooked and itching—but he didn’t care.

“I missed you too. We’ve never been apart for this long, have we?” Regulus said—and that made Harry’s heart ache more. Eleven years apart—and he never wants another minute of that.

Harry struggled with what to wear. Every outfit of Timmy’s felt too formal for him. He’d already changed three times when Kreacher, the butler, knocked on his door.

“Pardon the interruption, Master Black, but there’s a phone call for you.”

“A call?”

“I was also surprised—it’s not Master Malfoy, but a boy named Leonard… Claims he’s a friend from camp.”

Harry froze—it had to be Timmy.

“Right. Thank you, Kreacher!” Harry said, rushing downstairs to answer. “Hey! Leonard, mate, how are you?” he asked, catching a glimpse of Kreacher disappearing upstairs again. “Yes! I’m good too… Haha…” Harry looked around to ensure privacy, then slipped into the narrow closet under the stairs—coats, shoes, the lot. It was tight, but he squeezed in.

“Okay, safe now. Timmy, I can’t believe this!!! Papa is amazing! He’s so kind and fun, and I adore his dresses! He hugged me—I literally started crying, I swear! I can’t believe I lived my whole life without him! And get this—I had him tell me how he met Dad, and I think there’s a chance that…”

“Harry! Can you hear me? I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself and everyone’s fine, but we’ve got a serious situation here,” Timmy interrupted from the other side of the line.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re dealing with a massive problem. You need to bring Papa back immediately.”

“Immediately?! Are you bonkers? I’ve only had one full proper day with him! We’re just starting to bond. No, Timmy—that won’t work. Not yet.” Harry said firmly. Eleven years apart isn’t something you fix overnight.

“But it’s an emergency!” Timmy paced the bathroom. “Dad's fallen in love!”

“What?” Harry burst out laughing. “Timmy, get real! Dad doesn’t fall in love—at least not for real.” He rolled his eyes. Dad had never dated in all those years. This wouldn’t be different.

“Trust me, this time it’s serious. He’s holding her hand, kissing her, doing everything she asks,” Timmy said, and Harry could practically see his brother’s exasperated expression.

“Is that so?” Harry was now worried—but still reluctant to go back—not just yet.

“It’s gross.”

“You’ll need to find a way to break them up. I can’t come yet—give me at least a week, Timmy!”

“I’m trying—but I’m at a disadvantage. I’ve only known him for about 15 hours! Harry, I need you here!”

“You can do this, Timmy. Get close to Dad, talk to him. Glue yourself to him like a tick and don’t let that witch near him. And you still have to figure out why Papa and Dad split. They met when Papa visited Uncle Padfoot in Italy.”

“Harry…”

“One week. That's all. I promise I'll tell them everything.,” Harry said, hearing a long sigh through the line—and he smiled.

“All right. But it better be true—‘cause the way things are going over here…”

“I know! It’ll work out. Now Timmy, I’ve gotta go,” Harry said—then remembered something. “Oh! Speaking of which—I’m going out to dinner with Dad tonight. What would you wear for something like that?”

“Third section of my closet,” Timmy said. “Those are my going‑out clothes. Just… match shoes with the outfit, yeah?”

“Third section… got it!” Harry hung up, took a breath—and exited the closet only to see three pairs of eyes staring at him.

“Anything you care to explain, Timmy?” his dad asked, eyebrow raised.

“Oh, hi! I was chatting with a friend from camp—it’s an old tradition, you know? Talking in the closet. I know it’s daft, but… uh… something smells wonderful—who’s up for lunch?” Harry said, heading toward the dining room.

Had they overheard anything?

Chapter Text

8:12 AM – Napa, California

Harry was useless. Timmy couldn't believe he woke up at the crack of dawn just to call at a time that wouldn't be inconvenient for his brother—and that was the answer he got. Harry wanted to spend more time with Papa, okay! But Timmy wanted that too—how was he supposed to do that with some gold-digging witch getting in the way?

Didn’t Harry understand that if Regulus and James didn’t see each other soon—before this thing with the marketing agent got too serious—they’d miss their chance forever? They’d probably only see each other during the summer or on holidays—if even that.But all Harry seemed to care about was that stupid dinner with Papa.

Maybe Timmy was just a little upset and jealous because he wished he could be as carefree as his brother.If Harry were here, that witch would’ve been gone by now. But Timmy wasn’t like him.

Harry, right now, was probably tearing apart Timothy’s extremely organized closet trying to get dressed—just the thought of the mess gave Timmy the chills—while the real Timothy was stuck on some godforsaken farm in California, having breakfast with Dad and her, the witch, as he liked to call her. Seriously, who cancels a charity event without even talking to the sponsor first? Timmy was starting to think maybe he should tell someone.

“So she actually said that, can you believe it?” Hannah kept talking, though Timmy wasn’t really listening.

“Is that all you’re going to eat, Hazz?” his dad asked, snapping him back to reality.

“I’m not really hungry,” he replied. Black was never much of an eater, to be honest.

“Leave the boy alone, Jay. You're right, Hazz, eating too much makes you gain weight.” Timmy suddenly wanted to eat more just to spite her—if only he didn’t have that annoyingly rigid palate. He also hated how she said Harry’s nickname. It just didn’t sound right coming from her.

“Where are Uncle Siri and Moony?” he asked, changing the subject.

“They went into town,” James replied, looking at him in a way Timmy didn’t quite understand. Then Hannah cleared her throat loudly, catching his dad’s attention, and the look they shared made Timmy’s skin crawl.

“Harry, I heard your birthday’s coming up next week, right? Twelve’s a big one.”
It was true—July 31st was just around the corner. He’d always loved his birthday. It was in the middle of summer, which was perfect since they usually traveled. Timmy didn’t care for parties or celebrations. He didn’t need presents or attention. He’d much rather spend time with his dad, Alphard, and Draco. Still, his dad usually hosted at least a small dinner with family and a few friends (his dad’s friends, that is).

He preferred it that way. His dad’s friends were way better than the annoying kids from school. Aside from Draco and Luna, Timmy didn’t really have friends. He wouldn’t admit it, but sometimes he felt jealous of his dad—he and his uncles had been friends since school and were still close. Timmy wasn’t sure if he’d ever build bonds like that, apart from Draco.

Well, now he had Harry too, and that’s why he was so scared their parents might separate them again once they found out the truth. Another thought crossed his mind when he remembered his papa—this would be his first birthday without him. Harry had asked for a week, and Timmy’s birthday was in one. It didn’t feel right at all—being away from Regulus, from Draco, from everyone on a day like that. Did his brother feel the same way? Knowing how slow Harry could be, maybe he hadn’t even realized yet. Timmy hoped he’d figure it out soon enough and do something.

“I took the liberty of planning your party while you were at camp.” No. No, no, this wasn’t happening. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I do mind.”

“Harry—”

“No, Dad. First of all, it’s my party, so shouldn’t I be the one to plan it? And second, I don’t want a party. So cancel it.”

“What do you mean, Hazz? Back in March you said you wanted a party.” Of course Harry would be the kind of kid who loved birthday parties.

“I changed my mind. Why don’t you use the money to throw the witc—Hannah—a party? She seems like she’d be great at it.”

“Harry! What’s gotten into you? Hannah was just trying to help. You were supposed to get back from camp only a week before your birthday, there wouldn’t be enough time to plan anything.” Timmy swallowed hard. He didn’t want his dad mad at him, but the thought of giving in to her made his stomach turn—even more so when it came to a whole party planned by her. He could already see the awful colorful balloons.

“She was so excited to do this for you. Doesn’t it matter more that you have fun with your friends? And I’m sure the party’s going to be great either way.”

“Whatever,” he muttered with a sigh.
If Hannah wanted a party, then she could have her damn party. He really needed to talk to Harry about this—urgently. He had a feeling his brother was a lot better at pranks than he was… judging by the mess he made with the Slytherin cabin at camp. This birthday was going to be interesting. “Dad, I’m full. Can I go now?”

“Hm… sure…” But before Timmy could get up, Hannah made that annoying throat-clearing sound again, catching their attention. The look she shared with his dad… God, Timmy hated all of this.

“Yeah… Hazz, before you go, since it’s just the three of us here, I wanted to tell you something… It’s just that, well, how do I say this? Okay. Hannah and I—”

“Dad, I’m really sorry, but could we talk about it later? I’ve got a bit of a headache. I think I should lie down,” Timmy said quickly, making up an excuse.
This couldn’t be what he thought it was.
He got up and went upstairs before James could stop him.

He grabbed his phone (well, Harry’s phone), stared at it for a second, and then decided to call Draco.

“Hey, can you come to my place? Before Harry destroys my clothes…”

*
*
*

6:30 PM – London, England

Harry never thought it would take him so long to choose an outfit—maybe he was just a little nervous. This would be the first time he went out with his dad, just the two of them, and he wanted it to be special. Timmy and Draco teasing him about his camp clothes hadn’t helped either.

He had just discovered that he was actually terrible at picking clothes, which was strange, because he always thought he had good style (even if his wardrobe basically consisted of band tees and Star Wars shirts). And the fact that his papa clearly did care a lot about fashion made him anxious. Harry didn’t want to make a bad impression—or worse, raise suspicion. His British accent was already something he was trying way too hard to pull off. That week of “training” with Timmy and Draco had been worth it, though. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Draco had stopped by earlier, and Harry had to swallow his pride and accept the help.

**An hour and a half ago**

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked as none other than Malfoy walked into his room—well, Timmy’s room, technically.

“The way I feel being here is mutual, trust me,” the blond replied, rolling his eyes. He stood near the door with his arms crossed, as polished as ever, judging Harry with those icy blue-grey eyes that were way too intimidating for a twelve-year-old.

“Then why are you here?” Harry asked, and Draco let out a dramatic sigh—too dramatic, in Harry’s opinion.

“It would’ve been weird if I didn’t come. I visit Timothy all the time. Besides, he practically begged me to help.”

Harry seriously doubted that someone like Timmy begged Draco for anything, but he kept his mouth shut and rolled his eyes as Malfoy finally stepped toward the bed, where piles of clothes were scattered. Harry had raided the so-called “third section” of Timmy’s closet, but to him, it all looked the same inside that massive wardrobe.

“Timmy would have a heart attack if he saw this mess.”

“I’ll clean it up.”

“Sorry for doubting that.”

“Sorry I don’t believe that you’re sorry.”

"Don’t apologize — you’re right.” Draco said with one of those smirks Harry hated. “Are you going somewhere special?”

“I’m going out with Papa.”

“I see,” Malfoy replied, pulling a face a moment later. “Timmy would never wear that shirt.”

"Why not?" Harry asked, curious. Out of all of Timmy’s clothes, that shirt was one of the ones he liked the most.

“It was a birthday gift from Aunt Bella. He hates her, so he refuses to wear it.”

“Why doesn’t he like her?” Harry asked, glancing at the burgundy shirt. He had picked it because red was his favorite color.

“She’s... difficult,” Draco said, finally sitting on the bed. “According to him, Uncle Regulus doesn’t like it when she visits. Her jokes make him uncomfortable. He and Sirius both dislike her, though Sirius is more obvious about it—he avoids her like the plague. When they do meet, neither of them hides how they feel. Uncle Regulus is better at hiding his emotions. I really admire that about him.”

“Hiding his emotions? I didn’t get that impression,” Harry said. He had seen his dad smile, laugh, even get visibly upset after work calls.

“Well, I suppose he wouldn’t do that with his son, right? There are only a few people he’s that open with,” Draco answered, and Harry’s cheeks burned a little.

“Timmy told me it’s weird seeing his dad in public—it’s like he becomes someone else. You never really know what he’s thinking.”

Harry imagined his own dad, James—always cheerful and outgoing—suddenly turning cold and unreadable. It was a strange thought.

“Even with Timothy, sometimes he shuts down. It’s hard to explain... but you get it when you spend a lot of time around him, I guess,” Draco finished, and that stung a little. Because it was true. Draco knew Regulus better than he did. That wasn’t Harry’s fault though, was it? His parents were the ones who left—who chose not to visit their kids again. Apparently, one of them was enough.

“So... what outfit would my brother wear?” Harry asked with a sigh. If anyone knew, it’d be Draco.

“You really suck at this,” Malfoy muttered, picking out a black shirt and a dark green sweater, tossing them to Harry. “You’re trying too hard. You’re going out with your dad, not to a royal ball.”

“Says the guy who probably takes hours getting dressed just to go to the grocery store.”

“I don’t go to the grocery store. We have staff for that,” he replied with another smug smile that made Harry want to punch him.

“You’re insufferable,” Harry muttered. Still, he went to change.

*Now*

When it was just him and James, their outings usually meant amusement parks, football games, horseback riding, burger joints, or even Star Wars conventions. And whenever James had time, they’d binge-watch movies together.
Harry admitted he was nervous about what Regulus and Timmy liked to do in their free time. Timmy had mentioned at camp that they sometimes played piano together—which Harry really hoped wouldn’t happen tonight, since he had no clue how to play. Technically, he did have a piano at home, but it looked like some antique relic from another century.

Later, Harry and Regulus went out for dinner. Harry felt a mix of excitement and nerves as he adjusted his outfit—Draco’s pick. It was simple but stylish, and it made him feel like he belonged.

Earlier that day, before Draco came to visit, Regulus had asked if Timmy wanted to go to their usual restaurant or try somewhere else.
It might’ve been petty, but Harry wanted to do something his dad had never done with Timmy—so he asked if they could go somewhere new, somewhere they’d never been before.
His dad smiled and said yes.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Harry was impressed. It was small and cozy, with soft lighting that created a warm, intimate atmosphere. He noticed the maître d’ seemed to know Regulus and led them to a reserved table tucked away in a quiet corner.

“This place is amazing,” Harry said, looking around at the charming decor.

“I’m glad you like it. Your uncle and I used to come here often when we were younger—usually when we wanted to escape the over-the-top events our mother insisted on throwing. It’s special to me,” Regulus replied with a nostalgic smile.
Harry tried to picture a younger version of his dad and Pads sneaking away from some stuffy Black family gala to eat somewhere cozy and calm. He wondered if they always sat at the same table, always ordered the same food. Maybe they still came here sometimes—maybe Regulus even asked about him, and Sirius shared stories about Harry’s pranks with Ron and Hermione or his football games.

Once seated, Regulus ordered a glass of wine for himself and apple juice for Harry. As they waited, they chatted about small things. Harry shared a few camp stories, while Regulus talked about his recent fashion projects and a couple of funny stories about Alphard.

As the food arrived, Harry felt an urge to talk about something deeper. He wanted to understand more about the father he barely knew.

“Papa... can I ask you something?” Harry said, fiddling with the napkin in his lap.

“Of course, darling. Anything,” Regulus replied, setting his fork down and giving him his full attention.

“I want to know more about you and... Dad. James,” Harry said carefully. “I know you said you met when you went to visit Uncle Siri, but... could you tell me more? And why you split up?” Regulus took a breath, his expression softening. He’d been expecting that question sooner or later.

“You know, my mother was... a difficult person back then. She and Sirius were always fighting, and she didn’t let him come home for the summer. I hadn’t seen him in over a year because of her. Then I got a letter from Sirius saying he’d be spending the summer in Italy with a friend’s family, and I remember thinking... Italy was closer to London than America.” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of wine.

“So I convinced my mother to let me go without telling her the real reason. When I visited Sirius, he introduced me to your dad. James was... is an incredible person. So full of life, energy, passion—unlike anyone I’d ever met. We fell for each other quickly. It was all very intense,” Regulus said, his voice full of memories. “But over time, the differences started showing. Our worlds, our expectations... and there was a lot of outside pressure, too. Everything moved too fast. I was desperate to escape my family, and I clung to your dad. We skipped over a lot of important steps, and we were both too young to really understand what we were doing.”

Harry listened closely, absorbing every word. “And... and after I was born?”

Regulus paused, choosing his words. “We tried to make it work. Tried to be a family. But it got complicated. I was starting my career, James had his own, and there was a lot of tension. Eventually, we thought it was best for everyone if we split up. But Timmy... don’t ever doubt how much I love you and—” Harry raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Never doubt that, okay?”

Harry felt a swirl of emotions. It was hard to imagine what his parents had gone through, but hearing it directly from Regulus filled in some of the blanks.
Still... had they hated each other so much that separating their kids forever was the better option?

“I get it,” Harry said quietly. “I just... I just wish things had been different.”

Regulus reached over and took Harry’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “So do I, my love.”

The rest of the dinner passed on a lighter note, the two of them opening up more, sharing stories and laughter. When dessert arrived, Harry felt more connected to his dad than ever before.

“Papa, can I ask you one more thing?” Harry asked, nibbling on a slice of apple pie.

“Of course, Timmy,” Regulus replied, using the affectionate nickname Harry was slowly beginning to enjoy.

“If you saw Dad again... do you think there’s a chance for you two? That you might try again?”

Regulus smiled softly, a hopeful light in his eyes.
“I don’t know, sweetheart. It’s been so long. He’s probably a completely different person now. But for now, let’s focus on the present—on us, and building new memories together.” Harry smiled, feeling warm and safe.

“Yeah, Dad. Let’s do that.”

The night ended with the two of them walking home side by side, talking about future plans and dreams. Harry knew there was still a lot to figure out—but for now, he was just grateful to have his father by his side.

And as he got ready for bed that night, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect the evening had been. But he also knew that this switch with Timmy couldn’t last forever. They’d need to find a way to tell the truth—to bring their family back together. Until then, he was thankful for every moment he had with Regulus, discovering and rediscovering the dad he’d always wanted to know.

Chapter Text

California

Remus walked into the room and saw Harry (Timmy) completely absorbed in a book. He smiled at the sight — it wasn’t every day you caught Harry so focused on reading.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Remus teased, approaching with a snack in hand. “Harry Potter reading a book without pictures? That’s not something you see every day.”

Timmy laughed, closing the book and setting it aside. “I know, I know — shocking, right?” he joked back, accepting the snack with a thank you. “Where’s Uncle Padfoot?”

“On a plane to London as we speak.”

Timmy choked on his sandwich, glancing up at Remus’s concerned expression. “Sorry — but why didn’t he say goodbye?”

Remus sighed. “You slept in. He didn’t want to wake you.” Then he looked at Timmy with a curious glint in his eye. “I suppose I’d sleep in too if I were up until midnight taking mysterious phone calls in the bathroom.”

Timmy froze on the couch. “Ah... I was talking to a friend from camp. Leonard. He lives in... New York.”

Remus smiled as he picked up the book Timmy had left behind. “Ah, I see. So you waited to call Leonard at a time that was more convenient for him, because of the time difference.”

Timmy nodded quickly. “Yeah! Exactly. Because of the time zone.”

Remus kept flipping through the book, clearly amused. “Right... and you figured three in the morning was the perfect time for him. Makes perfect sense.”

Crap... Timmy had thought Sirius would be the tough one, but Remus was sharp.

“Actually, it was seven in the evening for him. He lives in New York, but he’s on vacation with his family in... Bora Bora!”

Remus finally looked up from the book and met Timmy’s eyes. He stared at the boy as if he could find all the answers he needed just by looking at him.

“Hm... I see. Clever.”

As he took another bite of his sandwich, Timmy decided to use the moment to change the subject — something had been bothering him anyway.

“So, Uncle Moony, I wanted to ask what you think of... Hannah,” he began carefully.

Remus raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift but played along. “Hannah, huh? Well, I’ve only seen her a few times, but she seems... nice.”

Timmy let out a sigh, glad to hear the slight hesitation in Remus’s voice. “I’m just worried, you know? She seems more interested in material things than in my dad.”

Remus nodded thoughtfully. “I get it, Harry. It’s important your dad’s with someone who makes him happy — not someone who’s only after his money.”

Timmy nodded in agreement, grateful he had someone to talk to about this.
He knew that even if it wasn’t forever, Remus would always be there for Harry — just like the rest of their family. And that was comforting.

“She wants to plan my party. It’s going to be awful,” Timmy groaned, and Remus gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Well... I don’t know if this is the worst time to tell you, but your dad asked me to let you know he wants to see you in his office once you’re done eating.”

Something lit up in Timmy’s face. “Really? Okay, thanks!” he said, taking one last bite of his sandwich.“All done!” he announced, springing up from the couch — only to be startled by the loud barking of a dog.

He turned to Remus, who looked both surprised and a little confused. “What’s up with that dog? Haha... Anyway, thanks for the snack, Uncle Moony. See you later!”

Timmy rushed to the door — but it was stuck, or locked, because no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn’t budge.

“Harry, push,” Remus said, frowning slightly.

“Oh... right, sorry,” Timmy replied with an awkward smile before slipping out as fast as he could.

If Remus had been suspicious before, he definitely was now.

As Timmy walked toward his dad’s vineyard, he couldn’t stop thinking about how everything was spinning out of control. He wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t a good liar, and he wasn’t brave enough for any of this.

He’d agreed to this crazy plan because he wanted, just once, to have a complete family — like Draco, Luna, Tonks, Blaise, and Pansy had. Something he’d never really had.

He didn’t know if he could do it. If he could really get James to call off the wedding, or scare Hannah off, like Harry asked. Right now, his brother was probably off enjoying time with their papa... while Timmy was the one carrying all this pressure.

He hadn’t even gotten to spend that much time with James, like he was supposed to, because that witch just wouldn’t leave him alone. Remus was one conversation away from figuring out the truth, his dad was practically marrying a bleach-blonde who seemed more interested in his credit card than in him, and his uncle was about to come face to face with Harry — and would absolutely figure everything out, because of course Harry would end up calling him “Padfoot,” and then everything would fall apart. Or maybe Remus would share his suspicions, and Sirius would piece everything together the second he landed in London.

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. His papa would find out the truth and come to get him, and then he and James would be forced to see each other again. Or... worst-case scenario, Regulus could just put Harry on a plane and never step foot in California again.

That was the problem with Timothy — he wasn’t like Harry, who did things on impulse and dealt with the consequences later. Timmy thought about everything — every possibility, every alternative — and a lot of the time, he didn’t act at all because he was afraid of upsetting someone. He never told anyone this — not even Draco — but Timmy used to be afraid of upsetting his dad. Not the regular kind of fear, like “my dad will ground me if I get a bad grade,” but something deeper.

No, Timmy used to think that if he did something wrong — like getting bad grades, being rude, or disobeying — Regulus would leave too. Just like James. That he’d send him away or disappear.

So Timmy did everything he could to make him happy. He knew his papa got sad whenever he remembered James, so Timmy stopped asking about him. He even stopped wearing glasses for the same reason, even though he hated contact lenses. He worked hard to be top of his class and learned to play the piano because it made his papa smile. Regulus had never asked for any of it, but to Timmy, being the perfect son meant his dad wouldn’t leave.

Timmy always thought too much, even about things he shouldn’t. He thought about James — why he’d never met him — and made up stories in his head. Since he couldn’t ask Regulus, he invented answers to fill the emptiness, and after a while, he believed them. Like maybe James had left because Timmy had done something to annoy him. That turned into a real problem the first time Regulus scolded him — Timmy had a panic attack, convinced his dad was going to leave him. But Regulus had hugged him tightly and promised over and over that no matter what Timmy did, he would never leave.

Harry was lucky. If they had met at that camp a year ago… Timmy never would’ve agreed to do something like this. But no matter what happens, his papa won’t leave him. Regulus will come for him, right? It’ll be okay. Maybe his dad will be a little mad... but Timmy’s mad too!

Timmy had never been angry at Regulus in his whole life. His papa was the best dad in the world — his best friend — and he didn’t need anyone else. Well... that was before he found out he had a bloody twin brother and a whole family he never even knew about. But now, the priority was putting that family back together. Maybe then, he wouldn’t need to fill the emptiness with lies anymore. Still, it frustrated him so much — the person he loved most in the world had lied to him.

Timmy still hadn’t figured out anything about his parents’ old relationship, like he and Harry had planned to do at the camp. He didn’t know James’s side of the story — why they had split up — but he needed to find out. Maybe if they knew what had gone wrong, they could fix it.

Deep down, he knew why James had called him into the office. He couldn’t keep dodging it forever — but he’d try as long as he could. It was all just too much. A month ago, Timothy didn’t even know he had a brother, and now he was halfway across the world, pretending to be someone else and trying to break up a marriage. A lot for a straight-laced London boy who’d never gotten into trouble before.

He spotted James standing in front of the vineyard. His father was a handsome man — and now Timmy understood why Regulus always looked so sad when he saw Timmy’s glasses. They really did look alike. Except for the eyes.

It was strange, because for the first time in his life, Timmy knew what it felt like to be compared to his dad. He never looked like Regulus, so people always asked if he was adopted. He saw how much Draco looked like his father, how people always said Luna was her mother’s clone — but Timmy never had that. Until now.

“Hey, Harry,” James called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You okay? You looked a little lost there.”

Timmy gave a small smile. “Yeah, Dad. I was just thinking about how beautiful this place is.”

James smiled back, with a mix of pride and something else in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it. Come on — we need to talk.”

Timmy followed James through the vineyard, the weight of the whole situation pressing on his shoulders. He had to keep the act going, but it was getting harder. Deep down, all he wanted was to be himself — and find a way to bring his family back together.

“There’s something important I want to talk to you about,” James said, making Timmy even more nervous. He had to think of something — fast — to change the direction of the conversation.

“That’s great! Because I also have something important to tell you,” Timmy replied, even though he had no idea what that “something” was.

“Really?” James looked at him suspiciously. Normally, Timmy would’ve felt offended, but he remembered — he was Harry right now. That look was completely justified. “You first.”

“No, you go ahead,” Timmy said, glancing around at the vineyard’s paths. He’d never been to one before, but his dad and Uncle Alphard loved wine.

“Well, it’s about Hannah…” James said, stopping in his tracks.

“And I want to talk about my other dad,” Timmy said right after. For three seconds, they stared at each other.

“What about Hannah?” Timmy asked at the exact same time James asked, “What about your dad?”

“Dad, I’m almost twelve. How much longer do you expect me to believe a stork dropped me off at your doorstep?”

James paused, looking at Timmy in surprise. “Oh come on, Hazz… Again? We’ve already talked about your father,” he said, walking again, and Timmy rushed to catch up.

“No, we haven’t!” Timmy insisted. “A kid needs more than some old, crumpled photo.”

Timmy didn’t get the chance to say more, because just as James opened the doors to the vineyard, none other than She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named pulled up in one of those golf cart–looking vehicles they used to get around the property. With her was a man who clearly worked for her.

“Hii, darling!” she said, hopping out to hug James. Timmy winced when she kissed his cheek. She turned to Timmy with that snake-like smile. “Hi, Harry…”

“Hi,” Timmy said flatly — not that she seemed to care.

“Harry, this is my assistant, Richard. This is the son I’ve been telling you about, Jay’s boy.”

“Ah… nice to meet you. How are you?” the man said. Judging by his look, Timmy could easily guess what Hannah had told him.

“Hi, I’m good, thank you,” he replied politely — Regulus had raised him right, after all, and he couldn’t be rude for no reason.

“So? Did you tell him?” Hannah whispered into James’s ear — but Timmy heard it loud and clear.

“Not yet,” James whispered back — but again, not quietly enough.

Seriously? Do they know what whispering means?

“How about we all have lunch on the terrace?” Hannah said in that fake-sweet voice of hers.

James looked at Timmy and then said, “Well, I promised Hazz we’d spend the day together.”

Timmy tried not to smile, especially when Hannah turned to look at him — her forced grin twitching just enough to show a flicker of irritation in her eyes.

“Oh! Of course I understand,” she said, though she clearly didn’t look pleased. “Have fun, darling — you too, Hazz. I’ll see you at dinner.” She returned to the golf cart with Richard and finally left. Timmy was already coming up with excuses to skip dinner.

He and James walked in silence for a while, the quiet broken only by birdsong and the wind rustling through the vines. When they reached the stables, Timmy lit up at the sight of the horses. He’d taken riding lessons once — Luna had randomly decided she wanted to ride after watching a cartoon, and being the persuasive little thing she was, she convinced Timmy to go with her. He dragged Draco along too, as payback for the swimming lessons. But Timmy had actually liked riding, and now he was grateful to Luna — because clearly, horseback riding was something James and Harry did a lot.

Timmy remembered Harry mentioning his horse back at camp — Buckbeak, a white horse with brown patches. A really beautiful animal.

So it was no problem for Timmy to saddle up on his own and mount the horse like he’d done it a hundred times before.

They rode together for a while, laughing and talking about random things—about the last American football game they supported, which Harry had missed because he was away at camp (something Timmy didn’t understand at all but pretended he did); or about how Peter had spilled wine on Sirius’s favourite leather jacket the other day, and his uncle had thrown a full-blown dramatic fit.

No talk of Hannah or birthdays—just the two of them. And for the first time, Timmy started to relax around his dad, enjoying the landscape and the simple pleasure of being outdoors. For a moment, it felt like they had always done this—a normal father-son activity. Normal for James. Everything to Timmy. James rode ahead confidently, and Timmy followed, admiring the grapevines and rolling hills that stretched far into the distance.

Eventually, they reached the end of the trail and stopped to take in the view of the vineyard, rows of crops stretching for miles. Off in the distance, he could even see their house. It was all... surreal.

“So, Hazz—excited for our camping trip?” James asked suddenly.

“Camping trip?” Timmy blinked. Harry hadn’t mentioned any camping trip.

James frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what camping trip’? The one we do every summer before school starts.”

Timmy had no clue. “Right! That camping trip—of course, can’t wait!”

James smiled. He didn’t seem suspicious. But he did suddenly seem nervous, which made Timmy anxious too.

“So… Hazz,” his dad began, “what do you think of Hannah? You didn’t really answer me earlier.”

“And you didn’t tell me about my other dad,” Timmy shot back — and that seemed to shut James up for a moment.

“Fair enough… What do you want to know?” Wow. He must really want to talk about Hannah if he was willing to go there. That was both a good sign and a very bad one.

“How did you meet? Why did you break up? What was he like? What was your first impression of him? Why did you—he—leave?” Timmy took a breath. “Just a few things…”

“Just a few?” James teased, then let out a heavy sigh and turned his brown eyes toward the view ahead of them. “Remember Grandpa’s house in Palermo? We used to go every summer, and one year Padfoot came along. Reg—Regulus—came to visit him, and Sirius introduced us. That’s how it started.”

“And what was your first impression of him?” Timmy asked. James gave a short laugh.

“You’re not gonna want to know what my first impression of him was…” James said with a mysterious smile. “Anyway, he was a sarcastic little shit — and ridiculously cute.”

“And… why did you break up?”

“I… Honestly, it’s been so long, I don’t even remember what exactly started it. I just remember a really bad argument, and then he… he left.” James’s expression turned distant, a sad smile on his lips. “I waited for him to come back, but he never did.”

Timmy didn’t understand how his papa could’ve just let things end like that. He was about to press for more when James suddenly said:

“Alright, your turn, Hazz. Hannah — what do you think of her?”

“What do I think of her as what, Dad?” Timmy asked, eyes drifting back to the scenery. “Your publicist? Your friend? Your...?”

“No, no. I mean... as a person.”

A gold-digging snake with fake blonde hair and less chemistry with you than a pair of socks. That’s what Timmy wanted to say. But he didn’t want to upset the father he had just started to bond with.

“Oh... She's cute... She has nice hair... good teeth... can spell the word 'you'. Honestly dad, she's a complete stranger to me why do you want my opnion anyway?

James looked at him for a few seconds, then sighed. “Because I... I just—Harry, you know you mean the world to me, and your opinion really matters, so...”

“I’ll see you back at the ranch, Dad!” Timmy shouted, steering Buckbeak back down the trail and galloping off before James could say what he knew was coming. After that, Timmy would have to endure that woman hanging all over his dad, and the thought alone made him want to throw up. He could hear James shouting after him to slow down, to wait, but he didn’t. He just kept going until he reached the stables. He didn’t even bother to take the saddle off Buckbeak before tossing him behind the fence and sprinting back to the house before James could catch up.

Timmy burst into the living room, breathless. The house, which had once felt warm and welcoming, now felt unbearably suffocating. He paced back and forth, muttering under his breath.

“I'm so over my head here... I... I can't handle this... I just... I just can't, I'm only one kid...”

“You got something you want to share with the class, Harry?” Timmy jumped at the voice. Remus was sitting in an armchair across the room, apparently having been there the entire time with a book in hand.

“Remus...” Timmy said, clutching his chest. “You gave me a fright.”

Remus raised an eyebrow and slowly stood up, walking towards him. “I gave you a fright?”

Crap. He wasn’t thinking clearly. “You... you scared me. I didn’t know you were like... like in here.”

“Here are you sure there isn't anything you want to talk to me about?” Remus asked, still frowning slightly as he circled Timmy. “Like... why Padfoot Jr. never comes near you anymore? Or how someone who never touched a book unless it had cartoons suddenly starts reading Shakespeare…” He held up the book he’d been reading, and Timmy recognized it—it was the one he’d picked up that morning. “Or how you’ve suddenly become so well-mannered... asking to leave the table, eating 80% less than usual, using expressions like ‘You gave me a fright’...?”

“Remus, I...” Timmy was screwed. He’d never lied like this before. He’d never had to. “I changed a lot over the summer, that’s all…”

Remus looked at him a moment longer, maybe waiting for the truth, but Timmy didn’t say anything else.

“Alright…” Remus said finally. “Sorry, it’s just... you’ve been acting like... someone I used to know. And for a second, I thought you might be... Never mind. That’s impossible.”

“You thought I might be who, Moony?” Timmy asked before he could stop himself—which was rare for him. He never blurted things out. But this was the closest any adult had come to speaking about that subject. The fact that there was another him out there.

Remus looked at him a moment longer, then turned towards the kitchen. “No one. Forget I said anything.”

“You thought I might be Timothy?” Timmy said quietly.

Remus froze. Timmy saw his whole body go rigid.

He turned slowly, his face full of disbelief. “You... you know about Timothy?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

Timmy took a deep breath. “I am Timothy.”

The silence that followed felt endless. Remus blinked a few times, like he was trying to process what he’d just heard.

“Oh my God... No, that’s... impossible. You’re saying... Wait, so the real Harry is... where exactly?”

“In London. With Papa. We met at camp and switched places. I wanted to meet Dad James, and Harry wanted to meet Papa.”

Remus ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to piece everything together. “Why... Why on earth would you two think that was a good idea? This is madness!”

Timmy looked down, feeling small and exposed. “Harry thought it was the only way we’d have a chance at a real family...”

Remus opened his mouth like he was about to speak again, but then closed it just as quickly.

“Harry!” His dad came rushing in, breathless and confused. “Harry, Why did you take off on me like that? I told you wanted to talk to you abolt something."

But Timmy didn’t look at him. He was staring at Remus, silently pleading with his eyes not to say anything. James noticed the strange glances between them and looked even more confused.

“Remus... Why are you looking at him like that?”

Remus blinked, as if he’d just registered James’s presence. “Like what? No, I’m not looking at him in any special way,” he said, then turned to Timmy, and his gaze softened. “I’m just looking at him the way I’ve looked at him for eleven years... since I saw him at the maternity ward... when I held him for the first time, so small and fragile, and wondered how something so beautiful could’ve come from you.” He opened his arms, eyes already misting. “Come here. Give me a hug?”

Timmy hesitated only a moment before running into Remus’s arms. The weight on his chest lifted a little as Remus held him tightly, like he wanted to shield him from everything.

James stood watching, still confused, trying to understand what the hell was going on.

“This conversation isn’t over, young man,” Remus whispered in his ear — he knew how to whisper — “I’ll fix you something. What do you want? Never mind, I’ll use whatever we’ve got”

He said it as he walked toward the kitchen, leaving Timmy chuckling a little and James completely baffled.

James looked between the two of them with a confused, affectionate smile, not quite sure what had just happened but feeling the emotion of the moment anyway. “Well, looks like I missed something important,” he said with a light laugh.

Timmy wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to compose himself. “Sorry, Dad. I was just... nervous about some stuff.”

James knelt down in front of him, placing his hands gently on the boy’s shoulders. “Hey, it’s alright. Harry, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Anything but the fact that I’m not Harry — I’m the son you probably don’t even remember exists, and I’m freaking out because I’ve never done anything this insane in my life. I should’ve listened to Draco... 

Timmy sighed and nodded. “I know, Dad...”

“Come on then,” James said, guiding him to the couch. “Harry, like I was saying earlier... What I really want to know what you think about making Hannah part of our family?

Timmy froze. He needed to call Harry and come up with some insane plan — he had no idea how to distract their dad anymore. What would Harry do?

“I... I think it’s an awesomw idea!”

“Realy?” James asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah! Inspired! brillant really!”

“Yeah?” That definitely wasn’t the answer James had been expecting.

“I’m like it's dream come true. I've always wanted a big sister...” 

James’s jaw actually dropped as he blinked at Timmy in disbelief.

“Oh... hm... Hazz, no. I think you kind of missing the poing…”

"No, I'm not. You’re adopting Hannah, right? That is so sweet, Dad. Seriously, such a beautiful gesture.”

“No... Hazz, I’m not adopt her.” he sighs “I'm going to marry her”

And there it was. The bomb Timmy had spent the whole day trying to avoid.

“YOU’RE MARRYING HER?!” Timmy shot to his feet, shouting so loud that James flinched. “That’s insane! You’re going to marry someone who’s young enough to be my older sister?!”

“Hazz, calm down—” James tried, but Timmy wasn’t listening.

“Tu ne peux pas faire ça!” He started pacing, hands flailing, his voice rising as it always did when he was overwhelmed, shouting in French now, leaving James stunned. “Comment ne vois-tu pas qu'elle est une sorcière intéressée ? Elle ne veut que ton argent et traite tout le monde très mal derrière ton dos ! Hannah est horrible, je ne l'aime pas ! Et nous alors?!”

“Harry! Hey—Hazz, listen to me!” James knelt in front of him again, grabbing his shoulders. “Was that... French?”

“I... I learned it at camp,” Timmy said after a moment, still catching his breath. James looked both surprised and skeptical.

“Dad... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you...”

“Hey, you didn’t upset me. I’m just... surprised,” James said, his expression softening. “I mean... I take my eyes off you for one month and you come back speaking French?”

Timmy took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. He needed to think fast.

“Yeah, it was... an intensive program at camp,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Look, Dad, can we talk about this calmly? Like, really calmly and rationally?”

James nodded. “Yes. And preferably in my native language.”

Timmy looked at him for a moment longer, but he just couldn’t hold it together anymore. He always overthought everything, and now all he could think about was James finding out the truth and sending him away — never wanting to see him or Harry again. Hannah hated one kid already, imagine two. Timmy was sure Harry would make her life a living nightmare, but what if she convinced James to send Harry off to some distant boarding school in Scotland? And what if James and Regulus never made up?

“Hey, champ... What’s wrong?” James asked gently. The way he said it, the way he looked at him — with so much love. But it wasn’t really for him. It was for Harry. James saw Harry.

“Oh Dad, you can’t marry her, it’ll ruin everything!!” Timmy whined, already feeling the tears welling up again before taking off upstairs. He heard James call after him, but he didn’t stop. He just kept running until he reached his room, slammed the door, and collapsed onto the bed, where he cried and cried and cried... and thought and thought and thought...

Chapter Text

“Great choice of wine, Kreacher,” Uncle Alphard said as soon as the butler served the drink. It was a quiet afternoon in London. Earlier, Harry had gone on a lovely outing with his dad, Pandora, and Luna. The little girl reminded him a bit of Ginny, and Harry was sure the two would be great friends if they ever met. Luna was curious and a bit odd, always dreamy and distracted, while Ginny was a little shy but very adventurous. Her only friend was Hermione, who didn’t really go along with her crazy ideas — but Harry believed Luna would. Now, they were having lunch with Uncle Alphard after saying goodbye to the Lovegoods.

Harry watched Regulus drink the wine, and he looked pleased. He imagined him tasting one of the wines from the huge cellar at his dad’s vineyard in California, with James pouring his best wine for him to try, just like he did with his uncles. It wasn’t a bad image; Harry wanted so badly for it to come true. “Papa, can I have a taste?”

Regulus turned his attention to him, then to the glass of wine still in his hand, and smiled. “Hm… I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Harry took the glass from his father. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted wine; James used to let him have a few sips now and then. He smelled the wine and took a small sip. As soon as the liquid touched his tongue, Harry felt the strong flavor spread across his mouth — but unlike the other times James had let him taste, this one was much stronger and more bitter. He wrinkled his nose and looked at his father as he swallowed with some difficulty. “Well, if you want my opinion, it’s a little robust for a Merlot, but I prefer the softer grapes from California.”

Regulus chuckled softly, a bit surprised at Harry’s expression. “Ah, so we’ve got a little sommelier at home now, do we?” He took the glass back from his son’s hand and carefully set it on the table. “Maybe you’re not quite ready to appreciate a Merlot like this.”

Alphard laughed along with his nephew. “Did he also learn about wine at camp?”

“Must have,” Regulus said with a smile, giving Harry a wink. But Harry never had the chance to answer, because the doorbell rang.

“Could it be that rather… exotic friend of yours again, Regulus?” Uncle Alphard asked as Kreacher went to answer the door.

“Barty?” Regulus asked. Of course, Harry had only been in the house for three days and his father’s friend had already “invaded” — well, shown up unannounced — several times. Harry figured that was normal. “I don’t think so, Barty went to visit his mother. He won’t be showing up around here for a few days.”

Harry tried to stretch a little in his chair to see who was at the door, but the moment he recognized the familiar dark curls, the carefree smile, the tattoos along his arms… Harry toppled right out of his chair, drawing everyone’s attention with the fall.

“Timmy! Are you alright?” Regulus asked, getting up to check on his son, now on the floor.

“Well, looks like someone’s excited to see his favorite uncle,” none other than Sirius Black exclaimed.

“Sorry, I guess I had too much to drink, Papa,” Harry said before pulling himself together and jumping into Sirius’s arms. At least he remembered to call him by the nickname Timmy used. “Uncle Siri!!”

“Hello, étoile,” Sirius called him by a nickname Harry couldn’t understand — probably something French. His uncle stepped back and looked at him for a few seconds, his brow furrowing slightly. Oh, God… Did he know? Was that why he was here and not in California with Timmy? Had he come to London to take him back home? But then, where was Timmy?

“You know there are things called telephones, right? You could try calling before you show up,” Regulus said, though his voice was soft, even playful. He didn’t seem surprised to see Sirius. His uncle came closer, pulling Regulus into a tight hug and actually lifting him off the ground, making him yelp in surprise.

“I knew you missed me, Reggie!!” Sirius laughed, shaking his brother.

“Put me down, you idiot!”

Sirius laughed and set Regulus back on the ground, though not without giving him another quick squeeze as the older brother. Regulus straightened his shirt, pretending to be annoyed, but Harry knew he loved those moments with Sirius. The atmosphere felt light, even with his uncle’s sudden appearance.

“Don’t mind your brother, son, you’re always welcome,” Alphard said, giving Sirius a warm hug too. But Harry was more focused on the interaction between his dad and Sirius. They were brothers, only a small age gap apart; they had grown up together and shared a deep bond. Harry wondered if he and Timmy would be like that if they’d grown up side by side. It was impossible not to feel a pang of anger at his father, who had a brother and didn’t seem to realize how much it meant to Harry to have one he’d never known. Had Regulus never wondered what it would have been like to grow up not knowing Sirius existed? How could he then accept that his father had agreed to separate them? Harry’s inner conflict was hard to ignore, even in such a warm, family-filled moment.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Regulus asked, genuinely worried.

“Sorry, Papa, I think the wine made me a little woozy. Can I step outside and get some fresh air?”

“Of course… Do you want me to come with you?” Regulus asked, brushing a few strands of hair from his son’s glasses.

“No need, it was just a little woozy spell,” Harry muttered before leaving without waiting for an answer. He didn’t stay to see the three confused pairs of eyes following him — nor Sirius’s knowing smile, who finally seemed to understand.

“Did he just say ‘woozy’?” Sirius asked, but Harry was already too far away to hear.

Harry grabbed a jacket and ran outside. He remembered seeing a red phone booth in the park near the house, the same park where he’d walked with Pandora and Luna earlier; it wasn’t far. It took him a little while to figure out how it worked, but eventually, he managed.

“I want to make a collect call to the United States, please…” Then Harry waited, and waited, and waited…

“Hello?”

“Timmy?”

“Harry?”

“Why didn’t you tell me Uncle Pads was coming?! What happened? Did he find out? Is that why he’s here?!”

“Harry! Right now, that’s the least of our problems.” Timmy’s voice came through the line, sounding nervous and jittery. “Dad’s getting married.”

Harry froze. “Getting what?”

“You know... black tie, white dress, the whole deal—he’s getting married!” Timmy replied, and Harry felt his heart stop for a second. He pressed the receiver against his ear, unable to process the words. Married? His dad wasn’t the marrying type. He’d never shown the slightest interest before.

“What?” Harry muttered, mostly to himself, while his twin was in a panic an ocean away.

“A week after our birthday. Which means in fifteen days.” Timmy said quickly. “So if we still want to bring our dads together… we’ve gotta move fast. Really fast.”

Harry took a breath as the words sank in. “Okay, listen—Dad’s taking me to the theater tonight. But I swear, tomorrow morning I’ll drop the bomb on him.”

“Harry… hurry, I don’t know what else to do.”

“Got it. Leave it to me.” Harry hung up with a heavy sigh. His heart was racing with the weight of the news. He stepped out of the booth—and slammed right into someone. The man must have been waiting for Harry to finish his call. Harry started to apologize, but froze when he looked up into stormy gray eyes. Wild, amused gray eyes. Uncle Padfoot was staring at him like he already knew everything.

“Uh… hey…” Harry muttered.

“Hey,” Sirius said with a crooked grin. “How about we take a little walk in the park? You can explain to me why Timothy—a perfectly well-behaved boy from London—is suddenly enjoying life in sunny Napa Valley.”

Harry sighed as Sirius slung an arm around him, steering him toward the path. “It’s a long story…”

“Good thing this park’s long, then.”

So Harry told him everything. How he and Timothy had met at camp and hated each other at first, how they realized they weren’t just look-alikes but brothers, and how Harry had come up with the insane idea to switch places.

“Of course it was your idea…” Sirius chuckled, clearly entertained rather than angry.

“How did you even realize I wasn’t Timmy?” Harry asked.

Sirius let out a breath. “You were acting off since the moment you came back from camp. Timmy was acting off, really. That kid’s smart, but he’s still shy. The real Harry would’ve tackled me the second he got out of that car.”

“So you knew all along?” Harry blinked, surprised. He thought it would’ve taken longer.

“Yeah, I thought it was strange. But in my head, it just didn’t seem possible, it wasn’t how things were supposed to…” Sirius trailed off, shrugging with a sigh. “I came to London because I wanted to see Reggie — but also to be sure. And the second I looked at you, Bambi, I knew.”

“So you’re gonna drag me back?” Harry muttered, avoiding his uncle’s gaze.

“You need to tell your dad, Harry. Now.”

Harry bit his lip. “So he can just send me back to America and keep pretending I don’t exist?”

“Hazz…”

“No! You knew too. This whole time!” Harry wiped his eyes angrily beneath his glasses. “Since the day we were born, you’ve all been making decisions for us. But what if you hadn’t known Papa? What if you grew up and found out you had a brother you’d never even met?”

Sirius crouched in front of Harry, his usually carefree gray eyes suddenly deadly serious. He gripped Harry’s shoulders firmly but gently, and spoke in a low, steady voice. “Harry, I never wanted it this way. If it had been up to me, you and Timmy would’ve grown up side by side. I know what it’s like to lose time with someone you love, and I would never want that for you two.”

Harry looked away, fighting the storm of anger boiling inside him. Angry at his dad. Angry at Sirius. Angry at how everyone else had made choices about his life without him.

“You know hiding us was wrong, don’t you?” Harry whispered.

Sirius sighed, straightening up but keeping one hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I know. We messed up. But you need to understand—Regulus was shattered back then. When you were born, he was drowning in things he didn’t know how to handle, and at the time… they thought they were doing the right thing.” He paused, his voice softening. “But you’re right. They had no right. And it may take you a long time to forgive them. But Harry, don’t ever doubt that Reggie loves you. He loves you more than anything.”

Harry studied him. “He really does?”

Sirius gave a small smile. “Of course. He asks me about you every single time I visit. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s cried in my arms because he wanted to be with you.”

“They won’t separate us again, right?”

“No. They won’t. And even if they tried, I wouldn’t let them. But now you need to talk to him. Tell him the truth. And maybe… maybe he’ll take you to Napa himself.” Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair as they walked back toward the house. “Oh, and speaking of Napa—Moony called me as soon as I landed and told me a very interesting story about your dad and the bride’s parents at a hotel…”

---

The next day, after Harry convinced Sirius to let him tell Regulus in the morning, he made the most of his last “secret” day with his dad. They went to the theater as promised, and later had dinner with Sirius at a fantastic restaurant. Harry noticed how different his uncle was with Regulus compared to anyone else. Playful, teasing, but also gentle and grounded. Not wild like with the Marauders. It was nice to see.

But the time had run out. Now Harry stood in the doorway, still in pajamas, watching his father. Regulus was sitting on the bed, sketchbook propped on his knees, doodling while speaking French into the phone with someone who sounded important. Sirius nudged Harry gently forward.

Regulus smiled at the sight of him but kept speaking in French. “Je te contacterai bientôt, au revoir.” He hung up, then gave Harry a softer smile and went back to sketching. “Hey, sweetheart. Come in. I’ve got to finish this draft and send it to Paris. But once I’m done, how about lunch with Sirius, then we spend the rest of the day shopping? Sound good?”

Harry sat down beside him on the bed. His chest was tight. He wanted more time with Regulus. But Timmy needed him. Once Harry stopped the wedding, there’d be plenty of time with his dad—maybe even with James and Timmy too.

“Sorry, Papa, but I can’t…” Harry said nervously. “I have to go out of town today.”

Regulus chuckled, setting the pencil aside to look at him with one brow raised. “Oh really? And where exactly are you off to?”

Harry chewed his lip and pushed his glasses higher. He glanced at Sirius in the doorway, who gave him an encouraging nod. But Harry couldn’t bring himself to look Regulus in the eye—not when he was terrified his papa might just send him away forever. So he ducked under the covers instead, hiding.

“Timmy…” Regulus chuckled, assuming it was a game, tugging at the blanket over his son’s head.

“That’s where I have to go. I have to see Timmy.” Regulus froze, his smile faltering.

“Oh… I see.” His voice was hesitant, confused. Harry could picture his dad frowning. “And where’s Timmy?”

“In California. With his dad, James Potter.”

Regulus’s smile disappeared completely. His eyes darted to Sirius, who gave him a sad, knowing smile. The weight of realization hit him like a blow. Shaking, he slowly pulled the blanket back and looked into those unmistakable green eyes. How hadn’t he seen it sooner? It was so obvious now—the reason “Timmy” had seemed so different.

“You’re not my Timothy…” Regulus whispered, breathless.

“No…” Harry admitted softly, looking away—until Regulus gently lifted his chin. For a long moment, silence hung in the air as Regulus tried to process what his son had just confirmed. His mind spun. His Harry. His Harry had been right there in front of him this whole time.

“You’re… you’re Harry,” he said, his voice trembling.

Harry nodded, the weight of it crushing him. He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. Fear of rejection, fear of regret—it was suffocating. “I met Timmy at camp… and we decided to switch places.”

Regulus touched his face gently, tears already welling. He’d dreamed of this moment so many times. Was it real? It felt too real.

“Sorry…” Harry whispered. “I just… I never met you, and I’ve wanted this my whole life. And Timmy felt the same about Dad.”

Regulus couldn’t speak. If he tried, he’d break into sobs.

“Please don’t be mad,” Harry said, clutching the sheets tight. His voice shook with fear. “Because I love you so much, and I hope one day you can love me as Harry… not just as Timmy.”

Before Harry could finish, Regulus pulled him into a fierce, crushing hug, as if letting go would make him vanish again. He buried his face in Harry’s messy hair, tears spilling freely. “Harry… I’ve loved you all my life…”

Harry melted into the embrace, gripping his father’s shirt and finally letting go of the tears he’d held back for so long. He’d dreamed of this a thousand ways—but the real thing was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” he sobbed into Regulus’s chest. “I didn’t want to trick you, I just… I just wanted to know you.”

Regulus shook his head, holding him tighter. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. You should never have had to go through all this just to meet your dad. I should’ve always been there. I love you so much, Harry. From the moment I knew about you, I’ve loved you. I never stopped.”

Harry hiccupped, clutching his father even tighter. But the mood shifted when a loud sob echoed through the room, drawing both father and son’s attention. At some point, Uncle Alphard had joined Sirius in the doorway to watch the reunion. And now, Regulus’s idiot brother was crying as if their mother had come back from the dead just to make their lives miserable again. He was trying to wipe his tears on Alphard’s tie, while the uncle just stared at him in disbelief. Regulus rolled his eyes fondly, holding Harry closer against his chest. Alphard shook his head and quietly shut the bedroom door to give them privacy. Harry couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

After a while, he asked softly, “So… now you’re gonna switch us back, right?”

Regulus sighed, pulling back just enough to wipe the tears from Harry’s face. “Technically, you belong to your father… and Timmy to me.”

“No offense, Dad, but that deal sucks.”

Regulus cupped his son’s face, studying every detail like he was rediscovering him. His voice dropped, tender but steady. “You’re right. I should never have let you go. Never should’ve let you grow up without me. And now that I have you… I’m not letting you go again.”

Harry’s eyes widened, shocked and hopeful. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” Regulus nodded, a real smile breaking through. “We’re going to fix this. You and Timmy will get to choose. What matters is—I want to be in your life. Not as a stranger. As your dad. If you’ll let me.”

Harry’s tears returned, but this time from relief. He launched himself back into his father’s arms. “I want that, Papa. I want it so much.”

Regulus held him close, his chest aching but lighter than it had been in years.

“Okay,” Harry whispered after a long silence. “So… what do we do now?”

Regulus brushed the last of Harry’s tears away and gave a small smile. “First, we talk to your other dad.”

Harry nodded, nerves fluttering again. “How about you take me to California? I think we need to have a proper conversation with Dad James. And Timmy.”

“You’re right,” Regulus agreed softly, though his heart was pounding. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll handle everything.”

Harry couldn’t help grinning as he hugged his dad again. For the first time, he believed it. Things were finally going to work out. And when James and Regulus laid eyes on each other again… that gold-digger didn’t stand a chance.

Chapter Text

Regulus had already thrown more clothes around the room than he cared to admit. Clothes were scattered on the floor, on the bed, on the table—there were even clothes on Sirius. Maybe he was a little anxious; after all, it wasn’t every day that you met your ex, especially one you hadn’t seen in a very long time… Regulus also couldn’t just show up looking like a mess, right? Of course, all of this was only because he cared so much about his appearance and not—not at all—because he was about to stand in front of James Potter for the first time in eleven years.

The mirror in front of him reflected a visibly disturbed Regulus Black. His eyes swept over the clothing options strewn across the room, and he muttered under his breath, irritated at himself for caring so much. After all, he wasn’t going there to see James—he was going there to exchange their kids. He’d show up, they’d discuss a new arrangement that would benefit both of them and, most importantly, the children, then Regulus would go back to London and continue his life.

Sirius’ presence, casually sprawled on the bed covered with a mix of shirts and jackets, wasn’t helping. “You know, you could relax a little,” Sirius commented, moving a shirt off his face and looking at his brother with a sarcastic grin.

“Bloody hell,” Regulus muttered, storming out of the closet. “Look, I haven’t seen or spoken to James Potter in eleven years, and suddenly I’m crossing the world to…” He yanked the shirt Sirius was holding. “I don’t know if I’m mature enough for this.”

Sirius watched as Regulus paced back and forth in the room, searching for something, until something caught his eye at the door—it looked like Harry was eavesdropping on their conversation. Sirius didn’t bother scolding him; it was good for Harry to start getting used to his dad’s drama.

“If he hadn’t driven me crazy, I’d still be married to him,” Regulus said, finally finding what he’d been looking for—a cigarette, which he hurried to light. He looked like a complete mess, so unlike the Regulus who usually thrived on control and order. “And he’s the one who came up with this agreement so we’d never have to see each other again.”

Sirius knew very well that wasn’t true, but he had to stop meddling in those two’s lives. Moony’s advice.

Regulus took a long drag of his cigarette and looked at Sirius. “Look at me, Siri. Have you ever seen me like this?” Before Sirius could answer: “Don’t answer that.” Then he went back to tossing clothes everywhere. “What if he doesn’t even recognize me?”

“Reggie, I’m sure that—”

“No, don’t answer that either,” he cut him off, pulling out one of the curlers holding his hair. “Do you believe Harry told me he’s a… a hunk?”

Sirius glanced at Harry behind the half-open door, who was struggling not to laugh.

“Yeah, I remember he was very handsome,” Regulus said, fixing his hair in the mirror. “He had a smile that made my knees weak, if you can even imagine.”

Sirius grimaced at the thought. “I really didn’t need to know that.”

Harry decided this was a good moment to step in. The resemblance to Timmy was uncanny, but even dressed in his brother's fancy clothes, Sirius could recognize Harry just by the way he carried himself.

“I’m ready, Papa!” Harry said, gripping the strap of his backpack.

“Great, me too.” Regulus gave the room one last look. “Almost…”

Harry frowned. “Papa... your suitcase is completely empty.”

“Eh… sorry,” Regulus said, much softer than when Sirius had pointed out the same thing earlier. He finally started packing, tossing in a few pieces of clothing. “Did you talk to your father already?”

“I just did,” Harry answered, winking at Sirius when Regulus wasn’t looking. Sirius grinned at his nephew’s blatant lie. That boy definitely had Marauder blood in his veins. “He said he’s excited to see you.”

Regulus chuckled softly. “Excited nervous, like he’s hating the idea?” He looked at Harry. “Or excited thrilled, like he’s loving it?”

Harry thought for a moment before saying, “Excited thrilled, definitely.”

“Ah…” Regulus murmured, going back to packing his suitcase. But Sirius caught the shadow of a smile on his lips and forced himself not to roll his eyes. Sirius was supposed to be the idiot, not Reggie.

“They’re meeting us at noon at the Stanford Hotel in San Francisco,” Harry said, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing his dad.

“Well, it’s almost time, isn’t it?” Regulus replied, sounding calm, though Sirius knew him too well not to notice the signs of his anxiety—the way he fiddled with his rings, or tapped his foot rapidly on the floor. “Why don’t you go downstairs and grab the tickets with Alphard while I finish up here?”

Harry shrugged. “Okay,” he said before heading out.

“You’re coming with me, right?” Regulus asked Sirius.

Of course Sirius was coming. Someone had to keep Regulus and James from killing each other—or better yet, keep Regulus from killing James’ fiancée. “You still need your big brother to protect you, Reggie?”

That was the wrong thing to say. Regulus grabbed the black coat he was holding and whacked Sirius with it. “You idiot! I’m in this mess because of you!”

“Me?” Sirius asked, feigning confusion as he tried to shield himself from his brother’s attacks. “How could it possibly be my fault that your kids swapped places?”

“I might have taken longer to figure it out, but I’m not stupid.” Regulus finally stopped hitting him and gave him a deadly serious look. Oh… he knew. He knew, and he was going to toss Sirius out of the plane once they were in the air. “You convinced me to let Timmy go to that camp! You knew James would send Harry there too, didn’t you? What was it you said? ‘He needs to have some fun, Reggie, it’ll be a good experience, Reggie.’ You lying bastard!” He started smacking Sirius again.

“Okay, okay! I knew,” Sirius admitted, leaping off Regulus’ bed to escape him. “But in my defense, I just wanted them to know about each other, because if it were up to you two… it would take forever.”

“That wasn’t yours to decide!”

“I know! But I didn’t think they’d switch places! I thought they’d at least demand answers from you, so you’d have to introduce them formally.”

“My current urge is to strangle you with this coat,” Regulus replied, disturbingly calm, with his best psychopathic glare. “You owe me, and you’re coming with me.”

“Of course I am,” Sirius said. “But you know I’m not picking sides, right?”

“You’re my brother.”

“I am,” Sirius agreed. “And as your brother, I can say that if I were about to see my ex after eleven years, and I had your legs…” Sirius walked into Regulus’ closet and came back with a pair of fitted black trousers, which he tossed at him. “I’d wear these,” he finished with a mischievous grin.

———

Uncle Alphard was already at the door saying goodbye to Harry when Regulus and Sirius came downstairs. His imposing figure filled the room as he hugged Harry warmly. He had always been the kind of person who could make anyone feel at ease, and Harry was no exception. When he saw Regulus and Sirius coming down the stairs, a gentle smile spread across his face.

“Ah, finally!” Alphard exclaimed, releasing Harry and moving toward the brothers. “I thought you’d be up there until next year.” He gave Regulus an approving look, noticing the fitted trousers Sirius had picked. “You look great, Reg.”

Regulus only nodded, still a little distracted as he adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “Thanks, Uncle.” He glanced at Harry, standing beside Alphard, clutching his backpack with excitement. “Ready to go?”

“More than ready!” Harry replied, his enthusiasm spilling out with every word. “I can’t wait to get to the hotel.”

Regulus took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm still raging inside him. He had to be strong, had to look in control, even if he felt like chaos inside. He gave Alphard one last look. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Alphard teased.

“Come on, or we’ll miss the flight,” Sirius said, already heading for the car.

“Say hi to your dad,” Alphard whispered to Harry before he followed.

“I will. And you’re coming to visit us for Thanksgiving, right?” Harry asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Uncle Alphard replied.

“Come on, Harry,” Regulus said from the passenger seat, his voice full of anxious tension. Harry climbed in, and they all waved one last goodbye to Alphard before heading to the airport.

———

On the plane, Harry was starting to get worried. He was seated next to his father, who was already on his third glass of wine.

“Dad, don’t you think you should slow down a little?” Harry asked.

Regulus looked at him, his cheeks already a little flushed. He smiled at Harry, but it was a sad smile, nothing like the gentle ones from before.

“Your father used to worry about me like that too,” he said, staring down at the glass in his hand. Harry stayed quiet, waiting for him to go on. “He was a sentimental fool, but he made me feel safe…”

Regulus let the sentence trail off, as if the words were stuck in his throat. Harry studied his father for a moment, not sure what to say. It was the first time he had seen Regulus so vulnerable, and it made him uncomfortable. “Then why did you break up?” Harry asked in almost a whisper.

“We were so young, Harry. We rushed into it too fast. Twenty-one isn’t the right age to get married and think about kids… Don’t get me wrong, you and your brother were the best choice I ever made, but it all happened too quickly.” Regulus drained the rest of his wine and stopped the flight attendant when she passed, asking for another glass. Harry sighed and looked at Sirius, who was watching his brother with the same worry. This wasn’t going to be good... 

_______

James arrived at the hotel, Harry clutching Pads Jr.’s leash tightly while Remus stood beside him, strangely quiet. This was supposed to be nothing more than a meeting with Hannah’s parents and a chance to see the hotel she wanted for the wedding. She insisted it was perfect, even though James’s mother thought the place was ridiculously expensive. Then again, Euphemia had never liked James’s partners—not since Regulus, at least. Maybe it was just her pride talking, but James had to admit the place was stunning, the kind of elegant setting that would make for a flawless wedding. He wanted this to work. More than anything, James wanted Harry to have a whole family.

As soon as they walked into the lobby, James didn’t have to look far to spot Hannah and her parents.

“Hi, love,” Hannah exclaimed, throwing herself into James’s arms and kissing his cheek. “Remus, hello to you and Harry…” At that moment the dog barked. “Oh! And the dog… but why is he here?”

James shrugged. “Harry wanted to bring him.” He smiled, trying not to sound worried. “Pads Jr. is part of the family, and I figured it wouldn’t be a problem, right?” He shot a look at Remus, who simply raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

Hannah looked a little unsettled but quickly masked it with a polite smile. “Of course, as long as he behaves.” She turned to her parents, who were watching with critical eyes. “Mom, Dad, this is my fiancé, James Potter.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter,” Hannah’s father said with a smile that was clearly forced.

“This is his friend Remus, and his son Harry. Isn’t he adorable?” Hannah pinched Harry’s cheek, and James had to put a hand on his son’s shoulder to keep him from snapping at her. Hannah’s parents nodded, offering brief greetings to Harry, who responded with a polite nod of his own. Pads Jr., meanwhile, wagged his tail happily, as though he understood he was being introduced too.

“Hello, sweetheart, you can call me Aunt Vick,” Hannah’s mother said. Harry made a face, clearly uncomfortable, and James sighed. It was going to be a long day…

James glanced around the lobby, noticing just how refined the details of the hotel were. Maybe it really was exactly the kind of place Hannah wanted for the wedding, but all he could think about was how Regulus would feel in a place like this. The thought blindsided him, and he shook his head, trying to push away the memories that threatened to surface.

“Shall we take a look at the ballroom where the ceremony would be?” Hannah’s mother suggested, attempting to cut through the slight tension. “It’s this way.”

Outside the hotel, however, a car pulled up to the entrance. Sirius Black stepped out of the passenger seat, sighing before opening the back door to help his brother out. Regulus had had more—much more—than just a few glasses of wine.

Regulus staggered slightly as he got out, leaning heavily on Sirius’s arm. His eyes were a little unfocused, but somehow he still carried that natural air of elegance, even though his clothes were slightly disheveled. “Wasn’t the flight just wonderful?” he asked Harry, sounding far cheerier than usual. “It was sooo fast…”

“I’ve never seen you so thirsty before, Reggie,” Sirius muttered, struggling to keep him upright as he looked toward Harry, who had climbed out of the car right behind them. “Harry, give me a hand here,” he said, trying not to sound desperate. “Your dad seems to have forgotten how to walk.”

“Siri, my dear brother. Did you know I had never had vodka before?”

Sirius stifled a laugh, holding Regulus tighter as he tried to guide him toward the hotel entrance. “Yeah, I think we all figured that out, Reggie. And that first time might be your last, alright?”

Harry took his father’s other arm, trying to steady him, while shooting Sirius a worried look. “Papa, you need to pull yourself together, ok? This really isn’t the best time to be… well, like this.”

Regulus blinked slowly, as if processing the words took longer than usual. Then he let out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry, darling, everything’s going to be fine. I’m not even that drunk…” he insisted—right before tripping over his own feet and nearly falling, saved only by Sirius’s grip. “Oops…”

Harry sighed heavily and looked up at the sky, as if asking some higher power for help. “I’m in so much trouble here…” he muttered.

Meanwhile, Hannah was chattering nonstop about the wedding details as they left the ballroom and returned to the lobby. She gestured excitedly, pointing out the marble columns and the massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Just look at this,” she said, beaming. “It’s perfect! Imagine the photos here, with this lighting. And the acoustics? They’re fantastic! I’m sure the orchestra will sound magnificent.”

Timmy rolled his eyes, keeping a neutral expression as Pads Jr. trotted beside him. He didn’t see what was so special about the place. Sure, it was elegant and dripping with luxury, but he just couldn’t picture his dad getting married somewhere like that. He hadn’t known James for very long, but he already felt like his dad was more the type for a wedding somewhere meaningful, with real memories attached. To Timmy, everything Hannah said sounded fake, like she was trying way too hard to impress. It felt like she cared more about how the wedding looked than about the relationship itself. But before Timmy could say anything, Pads Jr. suddenly went wild, yanking him forward until he had to let go of the leash.

“Hey, don’t run off like that,” Remus called, following after him.

Timmy quickly realized why the dog had bolted. A few meters away, stepping out of an elevator, were none other than Harry and Sirius. Pads Jr. broke free from Timmy and bounded toward his real owner.

“Pads Jr.!” Harry shouted, delighted, kneeling to hug him. It was only then that Timmy noticed they were alone. Where was his papa?

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me, darling.” Timmy jumped at the sound of his father’s voice and turned to find him standing there. But he smelled… awful. “I just went back for my bag. I forgot it…”

Timmy met Remus’s eyes, and his expression was a mix of alarm, worry, and barely suppressed amusement. Timmy had never seen his father drunk before—and now, of all times, he’d chosen to get drunk?

“Actually, I think I need a bit of fresh air,” Regulus said, clearly not realizing he was talking to Timmy and not Harry. “I can find the room myself. Go on, I’ll meet you there.” And with that, he stumbled off, nearly bumping into a stranger on the way.

“Papa, careful!” Timmy shouted, but Regulus just laughed and kept walking toward the outdoor area. Timmy turned back to the elevator, which had already carried Sirius, Harry, and Pads Jr. upstairs. Then he looked at Remus, who didn’t seem to have any answers either. The boy buried his face in his hands under his glasses and groaned in frustration. “He’s drunk! He’s never had more than a single glass of wine in his life! And today, of all days, he shows up completely wasted…”

“Well then…” Remus muttered, putting a hand on Timmy’s shoulder and steering him toward the elevator. “Do what he said. Meet him upstairs.” He rolled his eyes as he pressed the button. Timmy could only hope his parents didn’t run into each other like this—it would be complete chaos.

Not far away, heading toward another elevator, James and Hannah had just broken off from her parents.

“Sweetheart…” Hannah murmured, her arms wrapped around James’s arm as they walked. “Since we’re here, why don’t we use the honeymoon suite?”

James raised an eyebrow, trying to process her suggestion as the elevator approached. He was already overwhelmed with wedding preparations, and the last thing he needed was another decision. “Do you really think this is the right time for that?”

Hannah turned to him, slipping her arms around his neck as they waited. “Love… you’re so stressed you don’t even notice what’s going on around you. The honeymoon suite would be a way to relax. Come on, I promise it’ll be amazing…” She whispered the last part as she pulled James into the elevator, kissing his neck and lightly massaging the back of his head. James’s body loosened under her touch, and he slid his hand around her waist, pulling her closer. He was just about to give in when something caught his attention the moment the elevator doors began to close.

A tumble of dark curls, eyes of silver-grey he had never truly managed to forget, no matter how hard he’d tried.

James turned sharply, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of Regulus Black, staggering through the hotel with a foolish smile, stopped him cold. He looked slightly out of place, his clothes askew, his steps unsteady. James tried to process it all—shock, discomfort, disbelief. What the hell was Regulus doing here? He hadn’t changed at all: still elegant, even while clearly lost, sharp-jawed, those piercing eyes. There was no doubt it was him. James hadn’t heard a word from Regulus in… what, ten years? Eleven? Why now? Why here?

But all those questions died in his mind when Regulus’s gaze found his.

The world seemed to slow. Everything around James faded in importance. The silly smile slipped from Regulus’s lips the moment their eyes met. For James, it was like time had been pulled backward, back to when things were simpler, before his feelings for Regulus had become an open wound.

Regulus stopped, blinking in mild confusion, but he didn’t seem shocked to see James. The hesitant smile returned to his lips, and he gave James a brief nod just as the elevator doors closed, Hannah still clinging to him.

Chapter Text

Honestly, it was a good thing Regulus had drunk more than he should to ease the stress. He had imagined many scenarios for this meeting, but this was definitely not how he thought he would find James. The surprise in James’s eyes, the way he tensed up, forgetting completely about the woman clinging to him—Regulus wasn’t so lucky; he noticed her and couldn’t forget—even with the absurdity of the situation. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a stab of satisfaction at seeing James so unsettled. 

Regulus almost stumbled again as he walked toward his room. It seemed James’s mischievous streak had passed on to his children; Regulus didn’t know this side of Timmy at all. The worst scare his son had ever given him was skipping swimming class and going to Draco’s house without telling him. Naturally, Regulus had panicked when the teacher called asking why Timmy hadn’t shown up. He had never been a child who caused trouble, so switching places with his brother an ocean away was something entirely new. They had fooled him completely, and even after he figured it out, they kept the game going. For a moment, Regulus really believed James had been eager to see him. Now he realized James probably had no idea he would be running into Regulus today. Did he even know the boys had switched places? Regulus was going to kill Sirius; this had to be his idea too. That treacherous bastard was probably laughing about it.

“Harry Potter!” he called out as soon as he reached the hallway. Regulus honestly couldn’t remember which room number it was. Was he still that drunk? The problem was that two different doors opened, and two identical boys stepped out of them. Right. He was definitely too drunk. “Oh, God, I’m already seeing double…”

“It’s me, Papa…” the boy on the right said, and yes—that was definitely Timmy. Regulus had already thought it strange how affectionate Timmy had been since coming back from camp, hugging him at every chance, relaxed and emotional. Now the real Timmy stood there, staring at the floor with a guilty expression. Of course he knew he’d done something wrong and was ashamed of it. Regulus blinked a few times, trying to focus on the two boys in front of him. Even drunk, he recognized that look in Timmy’s eyes—the look that said he knew he’d crossed a line but never meant to hurt anyone. Regulus shook his head, an exasperated smile tugging at his lips, and walked over to Timmy, kneeling down to his height and resting his hands on his shoulders so the boy would look at him.

“You look great, sweetheart.” And it was true—Harry’s clothes were much more casual than Timmy’s. Timmy’s eyes lit up, and he jumped forward to hug him.

“I missed you… I’m so sorry…” Timmy whispered against his father’s shoulder. Regulus then turned to Harry, who was watching with a hesitant smile, unsure what to do. Regulus smiled back and pulled him into the hug as well. The image of James with that blonde wrapped around him faded from his mind, because nothing mattered now except the fact that, for the first time in eleven years, Regulus was holding both his sons together, at the same time, right there in front of him. He pulled back just enough to look at them.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you both here… together,” Regulus said softly, wiping away a stray tear. “But what on earth made you think this was a good idea?!”

At least Harry and Timmy had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Are you two trying to kill me? I’ve got low blood pressure, Timmy, you know that…”

Suddenly, the door on the right opened again, and none other than Remus Lupin walked out. He looked exactly the same as the last time Regulus had seen him, nearly two years ago. They used to get along well back then, even friends, back when Regulus lived in California. They had drifted apart over time, even though Remus had been married to his brother for almost ten years.

“Hey, I hate to interrupt,” Remus said, “but may I suggest you continue this conversation inside?”

Regulus definitely had a lot to get off his chest, and he was going to blame the alcohol for whatever he did next. The boys went inside, and Regulus followed.

“It’s been a while, Reg,” Remus said as Regulus walked past him. In the heat of the moment, with alcohol still buzzing in his blood, Regulus leaned in and hugged him, catching Remus off guard for a second.

“Remus! Hello, it’s so good to see you,” Regulus said before stepping into the room, leaving Remus with an amused look on his face.

Remus didn’t follow them in—he was probably meeting Sirius somewhere. Harry and Timmy sat side by side while Regulus paced across the room.

“One of you—I don’t know which right now—but one of you told me your father knew I’d be here today,” Regulus said, finally stopping and giving them his best stern look. “And I can tell you that the man I saw in the elevator today had no idea he and I were even on the same planet, let alone the same hotel!”

The twins exchanged guilty glances.

“You already saw Dad?” one of them asked; Regulus honestly couldn’t tell if it was Harry or Timmy.

“Yes, I did,” Regulus sighed before collapsing onto the couch across from them, lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling, wondering if he could just vanish. How on earth was he supposed to face James again after that? “He went completely pale—it was awkward as hell.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “Could one of you grab something cold for my head?”

One of them did, and Regulus had a hunch it was Harry. He filled a glass with ice from the minibar while Regulus kept talking.

“For the record, I stood there waving like an idiot while your father was wrapped up in some woman’s arms,” Regulus grumbled as he accepted the glass of ice from Harry. “Not exactly the reunion I pictured.”

He stopped mid-thought when Sirius walked in wearing swim trunks. Sirius headed straight to the table, grabbed some sunscreen, and ignored the three of them entirely before trying to leave again, with Remus waiting by the door.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Well, little brother, someone here has to have some fun, right?” Sirius answered, moving closer to Remus. “So, if you don’t mind, my husband and I are off to enjoy this beautiful day by the pool.”

“You can’t swim, Siri,” Regulus shot back automatically, lifting his head off the couch. Sirius just chuckled, waving his hand dismissively.

“That’s what Remus is for,” he said with a mischievous grin, glancing at his husband, who was patiently waiting. Regulus rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Still, the smile vanished quickly.

“Hold on!” Regulus growled, making everyone stop and look at him. He sat up, eyes flashing with anger. “Were you planning on telling me why you dragged me here without warning your father?”

“They were?” Remus asked. “Well then, I suppose that’s our cue.”

“I agree, we should go,” Sirius chimed in quickly, steering his husband toward the door.

“Wait,” Regulus called, his voice colder now, and Sirius and Remus froze, glancing back uncertainly. He didn’t look angry anymore—just tired. “Does someone here know something I don’t?”

The room fell into uneasy silence, everyone exchanging hesitant looks, until one of the twins—probably Timmy—finally spoke.

“Papa…” He had Regulus’s full attention. “Dad James… He’s getting married…”

"Oh." Regulus could barely form the word, his stomach twisting as if he had been punched. He blinked a few times, trying to process what he had just heard. "Marry?" His voice came out lower than he intended, almost a whisper, as if saying it out loud made it all the more real.

Timmy looked at him with worry and pity, his wide eyes reflecting the fear that they had hurt their father with the news.

"Yeah... And with some witch. Seriously, Papa, she's awful!"

Harry nodded in agreement.

“She’s not right for him, and the only way to stop it is if…” He trailed off and glanced at his brother. “You say it. He knows you better.”

Timmy sighed and moved to sit beside his father on the couch.

“It’s if he sees you…”

Regulus looked from one to the other, seeing their hopeful eyes and hesitant smiles. Suddenly everything clicked.

“Wait a second—you two aren’t trying to set me up with him, are you?”

Harry and Timmy exchanged another look, and the truth was clear. Regulus didn’t even need to turn his head to know his brother and his brother-in-law were trying to sneak out unnoticed.

“Don’t move!” Regulus snapped, taking a deep breath. “You two knew about this?”

Now it was Sirius and Remus’s turn to glance at each other.

“Me? No,” Remus said, just as Sirius also shook his head.

“I had no idea.”

They kept denying it until Regulus’s skeptical stare made them falter.

“Okay… Maybe I knew something,” Sirius admitted reluctantly.

“I had a slight idea,” Remus added. “Timmy told me, but look at them—they were just trying to help.”

“Yeah, it was almost romantic,” Sirius said.

“Alright, I’ll say this once, so listen carefully,” Regulus said, standing up from the couch and leveling a serious look at all of them. “James Potter and I have absolutely nothing in common anymore. Nothing. And nothing—let me repeat—nothing is going to happen between us again.”

“Papa…” Harry began.

"And besides," Regulus went on, shooting a look at Harry, who quickly shut his mouth, "James seems perfectly happy with his blonde fiancée, all long legs and a bare back."

Sirius rolled his eyes, and Remus gave him a light nudge with his elbow.

“And I want you to explain to your father that I’m here for one reason, and one reason only: to switch you two back,” Regulus continued. “Now, let’s do what we came here for and get this over with, understood?” He looked around, and when no one answered, he repeated, “Understood?!”

“Yes…” Harry, Timmy, and even Sirius muttered.

Regulus let out a long breath, feeling a bit of the tension leave him now that, at least, everyone seemed ready to cooperate. He was still reeling at the thought of James getting married, but he knew he had to focus on what really mattered: his kids.

“Good,” Regulus said firmly, trying to ignore the emptiness tightening in his chest. “We’ll fix this mix-up, make sure James knows the truth, and then we’ll all move on…”

Harry and Timmy nodded, though their faces still carried some frustration. Regulus knew they meant well, but reality was far more complicated than they understood. Whatever happened with James—and with his own feelings—was something he would have to face alone, without dragging the boys into the mess.

They left the room in silence, with Sirius and Remus trailing behind.

“Okay, I… I need to take care of something first. Let’s meet again in an hour, alright?” Regulus said. If he was going to face James, he couldn’t show up like this—reeking of cheap alcohol and still dizzy. “Siri, take the boys to the pool with you.”

_______

James had finally managed to come up with an excuse to get out of the room he was in with Hannah. Not that he didn’t want to be with his fiancée, but the image of Regulus earlier wouldn’t leave his mind. Did he come alone? What if he brought Timothy? How would he explain it to Harry if the kids met and discovered they were twins like that? He needed to talk to Regulus, to figure out what to do. On his way to the elevator, he ran into Harry.

“Oh! Hi, Dad,” Harry said as he passed by.

“Hey, I’m heading down to the lobby,” James replied before stopping abruptly and grabbing Harry’s shoulder. “Hazz, hey, wait, can you do me a favor until I get back?”

“Uh-huh.”

James pointed toward the suite he was sharing with Hannah. “Keep Hannah company for me until I get back?”

Harry pulled a face but nodded anyway before continuing on his way, but James called him again. “Hey, hey, Hazz.”

Harry looked at him curiously.

“I… how do I look? Do I look handsome?” James asked, showing off his outfit with a nervous smile.

Harry let out a short laugh and gave his dad a quick once-over. “You look great, Dad, relax.”

James exhaled in relief, shaking his head. “Thanks, Hazz. I won’t be long.”

He stepped into the elevator, heart racing. With each floor down, the anxiety only grew. Facing Regulus after so long, with so many unanswered questions between them, was going to be a challenge.

When the elevator doors opened, James let out a nervous breath and stepped out, scanning the place for Regulus.

“Dad!” James flinched when he saw… Harry? But wasn’t he upstairs?

“I thought you were keeping Hannah company,” James said, frowning slightly.

“Was I? Oh, right, I was! Actually, I was just looking for her,” Harry replied with a laugh, but something in his posture made James narrow his eyes. Harry then stopped, looking at James with a different spark in his eyes; then, suddenly, he hugged him, catching James completely off guard.

“It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Hazz,” James said, hugging him back, even though he had literally just seen Harry. But he would never turn down a hug from his son. Harry hadn’t hugged him much in the past few days, and James worried that maybe his son was growing up and didn’t like hugs anymore. Either way, it was comforting. When they pulled apart, James took a closer look at Harry; he seemed a little different. His clothes were… not what he usually wore. Was he dressed like that before? Well, whatever. “Nice outfit.”

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said, looking a little anxious.

“Well, I’ve got something to take care of now, Hazz. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Harry smiled. “Okay!” Then he skipped off.

While James was still searching for his ex-husband, Regulus was at the hotel bar, trying to find a miracle cure for his hangover.

“Here you go, drink it all at once and you’ll feel better,” the bartender said, setting down a glass filled with some strange brown mixture. Regulus swallowed hard. “And don’t ask me what’s in it.”

“Right…” Regulus muttered in disgust. Then the sound beside him caught his attention, and he nearly dropped the glass when he saw James’s blonde fiancée. She really was beautiful. What else had James seen in her? Regulus raised his glass toward her. “To you. May your life be less complicated than mine.”

The young woman gave him a strange look and murmured a “thanks.”

Regulus took a sip and nearly gagged at how awful it tasted. He set the glass back down on the counter and let out a nervous laugh. Consequences, Regulus, consequences… This time he pinched his nose, shut his eyes, and forced down another gulp. He thought he tasted tar mixed with a bunch of other things.

“Here you go, Mr. Black,” the bartender said, handing him the receipt.

Regulus signed it and placed it on the counter. He was just about to take another sip of the disgusting drink when he heard a gasp beside him. It was James’s fiancée, staring wide-eyed at his bill. Then she turned to Regulus with a slightly unsettling smile.

“You’re Regulus Black?!” she asked, her mouth still open in disbelief.

Regulus gave a hesitant smile. “That’s right.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed excitedly, moving closer. “I saw a dress you designed in Vogue and I completely fell in love with it! I emailed your office yesterday, but they said you were away and didn’t know if you could make another one. I can’t believe this… It’s fate! I’m Hannah Tully, soon-to-be Potter.”

Regulus nearly choked on his last sip of the drink at the sound of the name Potter. He set the glass down and quickly pulled himself together, forcing a smile as he tried to process what had just happened. Hannah Tully, James’s fiancée, was standing right there in front of him, talking as if they were old friends. He couldn’t remember what exactly went through his mind at that moment—maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the thought that it would be amusing when James found out his ex-husband was designing his future wife’s dress—but as soon as he opened his mouth, he said: “Of course, why not?”

________

James was out by the pool. He’d already searched the hotel’s main lobby; if Regulus wasn’t there, then he was either in his room or had already left.

“James, hello again,” said Hannah’s mother, suddenly appearing and looping her arm through his while going on about the hotel and the wedding. But James barely paid attention, too busy scanning the place for familiar dark curls. “I really love this hotel, the more I see it, the more I like it.”

James wasn’t listening at all—because he saw him. There, coming down the stairs, was Regulus Black, unmistakable with his dark hair, sunglasses, and that posture that somehow balanced elegance with a trace of weariness. He walked casually, but James knew his ex-husband well enough to notice the slight stumble in his steps. James’s heart sped up again. It was strange—after all this time, it was still hard to be face-to-face with Regulus without a storm of emotions crashing over him. Part of him wanted to finally clear the air; so much had been left unresolved when they split, and so many years had gone by since then.

Regulus turned slowly, his eyes finding James’s. Memories, feelings, and uncertainties hung heavy in the air between them. James noticed Regulus seemed a little shaken, but still carried that proud, untouchable air that had always defined him.

A soft smile tugged at Regulus’s lips, and that alone was enough for James to politely untangle himself from Hannah’s mother, who was still talking about the wedding without realizing he wasn’t paying attention. “So, James, how many guests from your family should we expect? Just so we have an estimate?”

“Sorry, could I answer that later? I… I need to take care of something right now, so…” He didn’t finish before heading straight toward Regulus, who had stopped at the last step of the staircase. On his way, James had to dodge a couple of waiters and hotel guests, which made him stumble into a bench he hadn’t seen.

“Hey, Prongs! You okay?” James turned and saw Remus lounging in a chair, looking concerned. Sirius was sitting right next to him — wasn’t Sirius supposed to be traveling? James couldn’t make sense of anything anymore, but he kept walking toward Regulus, when a waiter bumped into him by the edge of the pool.

“Dad, watch out!!” James heard Harry shout before he plunged into the water, fully dressed. When James surfaced, sputtering, he heard the click of Sirius’s camera. But he didn’t care; instead, he made his way to the edge, climbed out, wrung out his jacket a bit to shake off the excess water, and kept walking toward Regulus, who was watching him with a mix of surprise and concern, though he tried to hide any stronger emotion behind his sunglasses. James, now completely drenched and a little embarrassed, stopped in front of him. The soft smile Regulus had worn earlier now looked more guarded, almost hesitant.

“You always did know how to make a dramatic entrance, Potter,” Regulus commented with a light laugh, trying to break the tension.

James let out a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his wet hair. “Yeah, looks like I haven’t changed much after all.”

Regulus tilted his head slightly, as if sizing him up. “Are you alright?”

James nodded, trying to seem calm, though his voice came out more anxious than he intended. “I’m fine… But… is there something I should know? Because I’m really surprised to see you, but you don’t look surprised to see me.”

Regulus pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, and James’s focus faltered for a moment at the sight of his eyes. “Because I haven’t… I haven’t spoken to you or seen you in ten, eleven years and—”

“Dad…” James stopped when Harry appeared beside Regulus, who, again, didn’t look the least bit surprised. “I can explain why he’s here.”

“Harry… you know who he is?” James asked, stunned, looking between Harry and Regulus. His mind was a whirlwind, trying to piece it together. How did Harry know Regulus? And why did he look so at ease beside him?

Harry stepped forward, taking a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, I know, and actually, I’m not Harry…”

“I am.” Another boy, identical to Harry, appeared beside him, and James froze for a moment at the sight of what looked like his son’s perfect reflection. Shock and confusion played clearly on his face as he looked at both boys, standing there with expectant, slightly nervous expressions.

“You two…” James muttered, unable to say anything else.

“I think you and Papa had the same idea, because you both sent us to the same camp, where we met and everything… happened,” said the boy next to Regulus—he had to be Timothy—looking at James with expectation. Harry had known him since camp? Why hadn’t he said anything? Did Regulus know?

Regulus sighed softly, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting James’s gaze. His voice was low but steady. “They switched places, James.”

James blinked, processing the words as he stared at the two boys. His heart was pounding. “You mean Timothy’s been with me this whole time…” he asked, unable to look away.

Timothy let out a breath, looking embarrassed and shy at the same time. “Just Timmy is fine… I’d normally never do something like this, but we were afraid of going home and you just not letting us see each other again…” He glanced at Harry, then took a deeper breath before looking back at James. “I’m sorry we tricked you, but you didn’t have the right to make that choice for us. Harry and I deserved to know the truth from the start, no matter what issues there were between you two.”

James stayed silent, trying to absorb Timmy’s words. The thought that his kids had switched places without him or Regulus knowing was a shock he hadn’t been ready for. He looked at Harry, then Timmy, and finally Regulus, who seemed to be weathering the same storm of emotions, though with his usual carefully controlled mask. James felt like the ground had disappeared under his feet. Switched places? How hadn’t he noticed? And now, standing face-to-face with two identical versions of his son, he could barely process it. He looked at Regulus, who still carried that calm air, but there was something in his eyes… maybe a flicker of guilt.

“They switched places…” James murmured to himself, still trying to process it.

Timmy bit his lip, visibly nervous, while Harry looked away. "I… really wanted to meet you, Dad. And Harry felt the same about Dad," he said, calling James Dad with almost reverence, like he had been waiting his whole life to say it. "Are you upset?"

James looked at Timmy, his heart tight as he tried to process the revelation. He took a deep breath, struggling with the flood of conflicting emotions. His face softened at hearing Timmy call him Dad for the first time—well, with James actually knowing he was Timmy and not Harry. The emotions were raw, but he tried to keep calm for the boys’ sake. He glanced again at Regulus, who looked composed on the outside, though James knew him well enough to see the nerves beneath.

“Upset?” he repeated, looking at his son. “I’m… not mad at you, Timmy,” he said gently, finally crouching down to their level. James hesitated for a moment before opening his arms to Timothy. The boy, shy but hopeful, stepped forward, letting James pull him into a tight hug. James’s heart raced as he held the son he hadn’t seen since he was a baby. Timmy hesitated for just a second, then gave in, soaking up the safety he’d been craving ever since he’d switched places with Harry. James closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the feeling of finally knowing the boy he’d never gotten to raise.

After a while, James pulled back, still keeping a hand on Timmy’s shoulder, then looked at Harry, who was watching the scene with a hesitant expression. “Harry, you were in London this whole time?”

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Uh-huh.”

James shook his head in disbelief. Not even at his most mischievous had he pulled off something like this. Karma must really be biting back. Still, James stretched an arm toward Harry. “Come here, squirt.”

Harry’s smile widened as he stepped forward, letting James pull him into the embrace too. He wrapped his arms around both boys, and for a moment, everything made sense. The warmth of the hug, the feeling of belonging, even amid the confusion and surprise of it all. James held them close, as if trying to make up for lost years with Timmy and reinforce his bond with Harry. After a while, he pulled back enough to look into their eyes, a tender smile on his face.

“Dad…” Harry said, squeezed between James and Timmy, “You’re getting us all wet.”

James chuckled softly, still caught up in the warmth of the moment, despite his drenched clothes. He pulled back from the boys. “Sorry, sorry…” he said, glancing at himself. “I used to make better entrances.”

The two boys laughed, the tension easing a little. James, still holding them close, glanced at Regulus, who was watching with a fond look. James could see that behind his ex-husband’s carefully controlled mask, there was a storm of emotions brewing. Regulus crossed his arms but said nothing, his eyes flicking away briefly.

Harry leaned closer to James and whispered in his ear. “Papa’s amazing, Dad. I don’t know how you let him go.”

James felt a lump rise in his throat at Harry’s words. He looked at his son and gave a small, tight smile, trying not to let the emotions spill over. The fact that Harry admired Regulus so deeply hit him hard, because James knew better than anyone just how amazing Regulus was—he always had. But life and circumstance had torn them apart. He looked back at Regulus, who still wore a neutral expression, though the tension in his shoulders was clear—something James could read even after all these years apart.

Regulus raised an eyebrow at him, and James had the faint suspicion he’d heard what Harry said. “Boys, why don’t you go for a walk while your dad and I have a little talk?”

Harry and Timmy exchanged a knowing look, like they’d done this their whole lives. “Sure…” Timmy said, unable to hide a smile.

Harry grabbed his brother’s arm and led him away, calling back, “Take your time…”

James finally stood up from where he’d been crouching. He looked at Regulus and let out a heavy sigh. "I still can’t believe this..." Then he sat down on the lounge chair beside him, grabbing a dry towel that had been left there to wipe his still-dripping face. "The two of them together is just… Ow!" James cursed under his breath when something jabbed his forehead — a splinter caught in the towel he hadn’t noticed before. He rubbed his forehead and sighed again as he felt the warm, sticky wetness of blood.

Regulus let out a low, almost imperceptible laugh, but James caught it. “Let me… eh…” Regulus gestured toward James’s forehead, then sat down beside him on the lounge chair. He flagged down a passing waiter. “Excuse me, could we get a first aid kit, please?”

“Of course, just a moment,” the man said, hurrying off.

Regulus’s hand on his shoulder made James strangely nervous—the touch was unexpectedly familiar. James gave a quiet laugh, but he couldn’t ignore the rush of emotions that surged through him. He rubbed the back of his neck when Regulus pulled his hand away, and they sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of years of no contact heavy in the air.

“Here you are,” the waiter said, handing over a small first aid box. Regulus began cleaning James’s small cut with steady, precise hands, and James was struck by the memory of all the times Regulus had cared for him in the past, with the same delicate touch.

“Thanks,” James murmured, feeling oddly comforted by Regulus’s closeness.

“It’s the least I can do, given the circumstances,” Regulus replied, his voice quiet but edged with resignation.

As Regulus worked on his cut, James took the chance to really look at him up close. Even after all the years apart, he could still see the traces of the Regulus he had loved—the man who still had the power to make his heart race with a single glance.

James sighed, watching his focused expression. “So, Reg… Do people still call you that? Or is it just Regulus now?” he asked, half-teasing. Of course he knew Regulus was famous now; the sketches that had once been such a private, intimate part of him, shared only with a select few he trusted, were now celebrated worldwide. James secretly still felt special for having known that side of him before the fame, for having been one of the few people Regulus had ever shared it with.

For the first time since they’d seen each other again, Regulus looked shy, his cheeks faintly flushed as he gave a small smile. “Reg is fine. Everyone still calls me that. Sirius still insists on using that ridiculous nickname he made up when he was five and, apparently, no one but him is allowed to use it.” Regulus rolled his eyes fondly, and James remembered how, more than a decade ago, he’d once tried calling him “Reggie,” and Sirius had thrown a fit.

“I still can’t believe they pulled this off,” James said softly, trying to steer the conversation beyond the awkwardness of the moment.

Regulus shrugged. “They’re our kids, James. They’ve got our stubbornness and, apparently, your talent for trouble.”

“As if you were a saint at their age…” James said, savoring the way Regulus tried not to smile.

“I never claimed to be, but at least I never got caught,” Regulus replied, finishing up with a small bandage on James’s forehead. He packed the items back into the kit and looked at James more seriously. “But now that we’re here, we have to deal with this—for their sake.”

“I never thought I’d see you again, at least not like this,” James admitted, letting some of his vulnerability slip.

Regulus nodded silently. He knew there was a lot left unsaid, many questions waiting for answers. The two of them sat quietly for a while, just taking in the strange calm that had settled over them. Eventually, James broke the silence, his voice low and hesitant. “You know, you haven’t changed at all, Reg.”

But before Regulus could respond, something else caught their attention.

“There you are, finally.” None other than Hannah had arrived, and deep down, James felt a pang of guilt for having forgotten about his fiancée. She looked between James and Regulus, frowning—and it was only then that James realized just how close the two of them were sitting.

Chapter Text

Harry barely knew her, but he already wanted to push her into the pool. His parents were finally talking, and everything seemed to be going well — they were smiling and being goofy, like Moony and Padfoot used to be sometimes. But then Hannah showed up, and the whole atmosphere shifted. She was staring at them suspiciously while Regulus slowly got up from the lounge chair and stepped away from James, clearly embarrassed by the situation.

“Oh, I’m so glad you two have met,” Hannah said, her eyes flicking between James and Regulus. “Honey, this is Regulus Black. He designs wedding dresses and he’s going to make mine, but… I don’t understand — how do you two know each other? And… James, why are you all wet?”

James looked at Regulus and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you designing my fiancée’s dress?”

“Well, I didn’t know she was your fiancée,” Regulus replied, though it was a lie. He knew perfectly well — but maybe the alcohol had influenced his decision a bit. He thought the irony might be funny.

James chuckled a little but stopped when he saw Hannah’s expression — she was clearly waiting for an explanation.

“How we met? Well… haha… small world.”

Hannah frowned.

“What do you mean?”

That’s when Harry appeared on her right side.

“Hi!” he said, startling James’s girlfriend a bit.

“Hi…” she replied cautiously, turning back to James. But before she could say anything else, another shadow appeared on her left.

“Hello again,” said Timmy, and Hannah’s reaction was priceless. She let out a small shriek, covering her mouth with her hands as she looked between Harry and Timmy.

“Sweetheart… did I tell you Harry has a twin?” James asked awkwardly, while Regulus rolled his eyes.

“No… I think you forgot to mention that little detail!” she said, making a face at James, who looked pretty embarrassed by the whole thing.

“Don’t worry, he never told me either,” Harry added, rolling his eyes as Timmy stifled a laugh. “Anyway, I’m actually Harry. That’s my brother, Timmy — the one you met. I was pretending to be him, and he was pretending to be me.”

The confusion in Hannah’s eyes only deepened as she tried to make sense of the situation. She looked from Harry to Timmy and then to James, waiting for someone to explain it all in a way that made sense. Regulus, meanwhile, was watching the whole thing with a hint of amusement. He could tell the moment had turned into a comedic mess and decided to stay quiet, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“And this,” Timmy said, pointing to Regulus, “is our papa.”

Hannah’s mouth slowly formed a perfect “O.” “H-how?”

“I told you I’m bi, sweetheart,” James said simply.

Hannah blinked a few times, glancing between Regulus and James. “Oh… so you were married to him…”

Regulus let out a nervous chuckle. “Bingo again…”

Hannah gave a strained smile. “And what a coincidence that we’re all here together, the same weekend…”

Harry shot Timmy a knowing look. “Yeah… quite the coincidence.”

_______

Hannah was upset—and James understood why. Not only had he failed to tell her that he had another son, but he was also going out to dinner with his ex-husband. The kids would be there, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that Hannah hadn’t been invited. Now she was pacing around the honeymoon suite James had booked in an attempt to calm her down. She’d expected to spend the night with her fiancé but had just found out things weren’t going to go quite that way.

“This is ridiculous!” Hannah said, stepping out of the shower still wrapped in her robe, watching James finish getting dressed. At first, she thought it was some kind of surprise for her—but she quickly realized James was going out, just not with her.

James sighed as he finally put on his shoes and looked at her. “Honey… this is out of my hands, really. The kids—they want to spend time with us. It was the only thing they asked before Reg and Timmy go back to London. Harry just wants a bit of time with his dad and his brother before saying goodbye.”

Hannah’s expression softened a little. “Then why don’t you just… I don’t know, send Harry with them for a while? A few weeks, maybe the rest of the summer?”

James frowned. “Well, that’s something Regulus and I are going to talk about tonight at dinner. I’m sure we’ll figure out what’s best for the boys.”

Hannah still looked upset, but she stepped closer and gave him a small smile. “Fine… Just know I’ll be waiting up for you,” she whispered in his ear, fixing his collar.

James swallowed hard, nodded, gave her a quick kiss, grabbed his wallet from the dresser, and left the suite, taking a deep breath as the door closed behind him.

He met up with Harry, who had apparently gotten his suitcase back—the one Timmy had packed at home with his brother’s clothes, back when they were pretending to be each other. Harry looked pretty happy to have his own stuff again. Timmy didn’t even own a pair of jeans. How could someone have such a big closet and not a single pair of jeans? It was all tailored pants and fancy fabrics. Harry finally felt like himself again when he pulled on his jeans and jacket. His dad, James, didn’t look half bad either—he’d clearly made an effort, even tried to fix his hair. Who would’ve guessed?

They went down to the hotel lobby together, stopping by the entrance. Regulus and Timmy weren’t there yet.

“Hazz… I’ve had enough surprises for one day. Could you please tell me where we’re going?” James asked, getting nothing but a mischievous smile from his son.

“What’s the rush, Dad? Don’t worry, you’re gonna love it,” Harry replied, the grin never leaving his face. Who had taught that kid to be so cheeky?

Before James could answer, familiar voices caught his attention. Coming out of the hotel were Regulus and Timmy, laughing about something. Regulus, as always, was dressed with impeccable style, exuding that natural charm that made everyone around him feel slightly underdressed. He wore a black linen shirt, slightly unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of a simple but elegant silver chain around his neck. The shirt fit him perfectly, tucked neatly into tailored black trousers, held by a slim belt. Over his shoulders was a navy velvet blazer that added a touch of sophistication, and polished leather shoes completed the look.

Next to him, Timmy looked almost like his miniature version—clearly inspired by his father’s taste. When Regulus lifted his eyes from his son, the silvery gray met warm brown, and something in his gaze softened. Harry and Timmy, on the other hand, were almost bouncing with excitement.

“Hey…” Regulus greeted softly as they approached.

James swallowed and answered with a hesitant, “Hi.”

“You…” Regulus murmured, leaning closer to James, “have any idea where they’re taking us?”

James sighed. “Not a clue.”

Regulus arched a brow, smiling faintly and nodding. Their sons, meanwhile, were far too excited to hide it. They exchanged a conspiratorial glance before Timmy grabbed Regulus’s hand and Harry tugged on James’s arm.

“Come on! The car’s waiting!” Harry said, leading the way in the opposite direction of the hotel entrance.

James and Regulus exchanged another confused look but let themselves be guided.

How had two eleven-year-olds managed to hire a driver and organize a surprise dinner by themselves? Regulus could answer that easily—Sirius was involved, no doubt. But he’d deal with his brother later. For now, he decided to just go along with it.

The car drove them through the glowing streets of San Francisco until they arrived at a brightly lit pier. The city lights shimmered on the horizon as a cool breeze carried the salty scent of the sea. James frowned, looking around.

“This is where we’re having dinner?” he asked once they were all out of the car, scanning the area for a restaurant but finding none.

“No,” Harry said. “We’re having dinner there.” He pointed toward an enormous yacht docked at the pier, its lights reflecting on the dark water.

James looked utterly confused as his sons grinned from ear to ear. Regulus, standing beside him, blinked in disbelief.

Timmy tugged his father’s hand, and Harry took James’s again.

“Come on, we have a dinner to get to!” Harry laughed, pulling him toward the yacht’s staircase.

James took a deep breath. He hadn’t stepped onto a boat like that since… well, since his wedding to Regulus. And that wedding hadn’t been cheap, to say the least.

“How much exactly are we paying for this dinner?” he asked, following Harry up the steps.

“We put our allowances together!” Timmy called from behind.

“Timmy…” Regulus muttered, rolling his eyes. Even if his kids pooled their allowances for a year, they couldn’t afford this.

“Okay, fine, Uncle Alphard helped a little,” Timmy admitted with a sheepish grin. Regulus didn’t look convinced. “Alright, he helped a lot.”

James looked at Regulus, clearly amused. “Classy, huh?”

“Shut up,” Regulus said, shoving his shoulder lightly as the boys led them inside the yacht.

The interior was even more stunning: a vast hall decorated in shades of gold and white, gleaming marble floors, red velvet chairs, tables perfectly set with silver cutlery and fresh flower arrangements. A sleek bar stood in one corner, and a black grand piano sat in the center—though there was no pianist, no crew, no one else aboard. Just them.

What truly caught them off guard was when the boys guided them to a table—set for two.

James gave a nervous smile. “Uh… just two seats?”

Harry and Timmy exchanged a glance. “Yeah… that’s another part of the surprise,” Timmy said, trying not to laugh as he looked at his brother. “We’re not having dinner with you.”

Regulus let out a low laugh, realizing what was happening. “You’re not?”

“No, but I am,” said a familiar voice coming from the kitchen.

Sirius stepped out wearing a yacht waiter’s uniform and carrying a tray of appetizers. Behind him was a taller man with light brown hair, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses on a tray, looking like he’d been forced to participate. Regulus didn’t know whether to laugh or panic.

“What the hell are you doing, Siri?” Regulus asked, stunned.

“No, no. Tonight, I’m not Siri, not Sirius, not Padfoot. I’m not a brother or a best friend. I’m just the guy who… uh… will be serving you tonight,” Sirius said with exaggerated professionalism. Regulus wanted to laugh so badly—and so did James. “No jokes, please.”

Remus sighed, clearly roped into this whole ordeal. “Well, I’m Remus, and I’ll be your sommelier this evening,” he said, giving Sirius a side-eye. “To get you tipsy enough to forget you saw us like this—and to keep you from teasing two innocent men just following orders from these bold young masterminds.” He shot a look at Harry and Timmy, who both grinned proudly.

“Prongs Jr., the music, please,” Sirius said to Harry, who was already holding a remote. The speakers came alive with a tune that hit James and Regulus straight in the chest—‘I Love You for Sentimental Reasons’ by Nat King Cole.

Regulus took a deep breath. It might’ve been funny to the boys, and even to Sirius, but to him it was painful—reliving it all: the scene, the song, the person. Memories came flooding back—how it all began, how it went so wrong, and how it might have gone right.

“Relax and enjoy this trip down memory lane…” Harry said softly, pride in his voice. “A journey through time.”

Regulus gave a nervous laugh, crossing his arms and shaking his head in disbelief. A few days ago, he’d been in London, worried only about finishing a sketch on time—and now he was on a… date? With his ex-husband? The situation was so absurd it was almost funny. And yet, his damned heart wouldn’t stop racing.

The twins disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving their fathers alone with the “crew.” Sirius looked at his brother with a gentle, understanding smile—one that silently apologized. Regulus hated surprises; he liked being in control, knowing what came next so he could plan his reaction. Surprises had never meant good things in his childhood. And in the past few days, he’d had more surprises than in the last several years. He was reaching his limit.

“You get it, right?” Sirius said carefully.

Regulus shot him a deadly look that clearly said You’ll pay for this, before rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, I think we get it,” he said at the same time James—who was gazing out the window with that classic dreamy James Potter expression—spoke up. “They’re recreating our first date,” James said with a soft smile.

“The song, the boat…”

“The crew,” Sirius added as Remus filled the champagne glasses.

“Moony, I think—” James started, but Sirius gave him a sharp look. “I mean—yeah, I think now would be a perfect time for that drink. Let’s see how good our sommelier really is.”

Remus rolled his eyes for what must’ve been the tenth time that night, finishing the pour before setting the two flutes of champagne on a tray and bringing them over to James and Regulus. They each took a glass, murmured their thanks, and Remus and Sirius finally retreated to the kitchen—leaving the two of them alone.

“Honestly, I haven’t set foot on one of these since our wedding,” James said.

Of course, Regulus remembered that day perfectly. He had only been on a boat three times in his life — counting this one — and had never liked the sea, not even swimming pools. But he remembered missing his brother, who had spent all of high school in California, and how he only saw him a few times a year. He remembered Sirius calling during his third year, saying he had a long weekend coming up and that the Potters were planning to visit their family home in Italy — and that Sirius would be going with them. Since their parents hadn’t allowed Sirius to return to London the previous summer, it had been over a year since Regulus had last seen him in person. He remembered thinking that England was closer to Italy than the United States... and how Uncle Alphard had lied to their parents, saying Regulus would be spending a few days with him — only to secretly send him straight to Italy to see his brother.

That was where Sirius dragged him onto a yacht — a party some friends were throwing or something. It didn’t matter, because that was the night he met James. James, the hopeless romantic, who later took him on a damn boat for their first real date, saying, “Well, that’s how we met.” And then he used the same excuse for their wedding.

Of course their adorable sons would be sentimental enough to recreate something like that — a playful little nod to their history. Naturally, Regulus hadn’t stepped foot on a boat again… until now.

“Well…” James’ voice pulled him from his thoughts as he raised his glass slightly. “Then here’s to—”

“Our sons,” Regulus finished for him. James’s smile faltered a bit, as if he’d been caught thinking of something deeper, before clinking his glass gently against Regulus’s.

“Yeah. Our sons,” James repeated, taking a sip of champagne.

They sat in silence for a while — until a sound caught both their attention. Through the small window on the door leading to the galley, two identical heads were peeking in, watching eagerly. Harry and Timmy froze when their fathers spotted them, then ducked down instantly.

“Now I know how a goldfish feels,” James muttered, making Regulus chuckle softly. “You know, if we ever do manage to be alone, maybe we could actually talk about what happened between us. It’s been so long… everything feels so vague now. It all ended so fast…”

Regulus sighed, his calm smile fading into something softer, sadder. “It started fast, James.”

“You’re right,” James admitted, leaning in slightly. “It did. It’s like we skipped half the steps — rushed into something neither of us was really ready for.”

Regulus smiled faintly, though it wasn’t out of amusement — it was tinged with melancholy. “We were two idiots thinking love alone could fix everything.”

James chuckled quietly, shaking his head as he guided Regulus toward the table. “Isn’t that how young people always think? But… truth is, I never regretted it. Any of it. Not even the mistakes.”

Regulus looked up from his glass, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t?”

“No. Not even the fights,” James said firmly. “Because, despite everything, it was with you that I learned what it means to love someone. To fight for something. And sometimes… to know when to let go, even when it hurts.”

Regulus stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before swallowing hard and deciding to change the subject. “Anyway… I heard you’re doing really well. That dream of owning a vineyard — it finally came true, huh?”

James smiled. “Yeah… But you too! You used to doodle on napkins and newspaper margins, and now your designs are in magazines. I mean, I don’t know much about fashion, but I bet there isn’t a single bride out there who doesn’t know your name.”

Regulus laughed softly, almost shyly, his eyes dropping back to his champagne. “Yeah… I guess we both made it where we wanted to be.”

James nodded slowly, his tone gentler. “Yeah. We did.”

Regulus’s smile lingered, but there was a faint sadness in his eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment, as if a million unsaid words hovered between them — until the galley door opened, and Sirius walked out carrying a tray with dinner.

Regulus waited for him to set the plates down before asking, “So… what are we going to do about the boys?”

James’s expression turned serious. “Well, now that they’ve met, we can’t separate them.”

Regulus nodded. “They could spend half the year with me and the other half with—”

James’s brow furrowed immediately; the idea of spending six months away from Harry — and now Timmy — clearly didn’t sit well with him. But Sirius, still holding the empty tray, jumped in:

"Guys, you can’t have them switching schools every semester. That’s insane."

James nodded in agreement. Regulus sighed. “Fine, then they’ll stay with me full time and—”

James scoffed. “Oh, no. Not a chance. That’s why we came up with the agreement.”

“A terrible agreement, by the way,” Sirius added, earning a synchronized glare from both of them.

“You can go now, waiter,” Regulus said dryly. Sirius rolled his eyes, saluted mockingly, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Where was I?” James asked. “Oh right, that’s why we made the deal we did.”

"Yeah?" Regulus replied, raising an eyebrow. "I thought the whole point was to make sure you’d never have to see me again."

James let out a long sigh, crossing his arms on the table and meeting Regulus’s gaze with a sad smile. " We didn’t, Reg. Don’t you remember the day you left?"

Regulus leaned back in his chair. "Oh, that day I remember perfectly… I hurt you when I threw that… what was it again?"

“A hair dryer,” James said immediately.

Regulus let out a short laugh, leaning further back, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Ah, right. My apologies for that, by the way.”

James chuckled too, though there was a trace of sorrow in his eyes. “You always did have a very… direct way of expressing your feelings.”

Regulus looked down at his champagne, swirling the liquid absently. “Not exactly my proudest moment.”

“Nor mine,” James admitted. “Look, Reg… I can’t be alone with you again — and I’m sure you know why.”

Yes, Regulus knew. It started with “fi” and ended with “ancée.”

James leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “So, about the day you left… Why did you do it?”

Regulus sighed. “Oh, James… We were so young and stupid. We had a dumb fight — I don’t even remember what it was about. I think someone said something that made me doubt you. So I left. I caught the first flight out and…” Regulus looked up, meeting James’s eyes, hesitating before finishing, “You didn’t come after me.”

The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible. James straightened in his chair as if he’d been hit, his gaze shifting to the center of the table. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came at first.

“I…” he began, voice low and unsure. “I didn’t know that’s what you wanted.”

Regulus set his glass down, his eyes searching James’s face for something — maybe a spark of what they used to be. “Let it go, Potter. There’s no point in thinking about what could’ve been. It was a long time ago. So… let’s just behave, alright? And focus on what really matters — for the boys’ sake.”

James hesitated, choosing his words carefully before finally exhaling. “Alright… let’s focus on what matters.”

Regulus nodded slowly, though a shadow of sadness lingered in his expression. For a moment, they sat in silence again — until they eventually finished their meal, talking about trivial things here and there, until at last they reached a decision.

______

Regulus had woken up early that morning, determined to finally put an end to all of this and return to his usual routine. He woke Timmy up and told him to get ready while he went down to the lobby to check out of the hotel. When the elevator doors opened, he found James already there. There was still a faint tension between them, but also a mutual understanding that there wasn’t much left to say or do.

Regulus was signing a few papers and finishing payments while James did the same beside him.

"Here’s your passport, Mr. Black. Have a safe trip," the receptionist said.

"Thank you," Regulus replied, taking the document back. He glanced toward Sirius, who still looked annoyed, as if things hadn’t gone quite the way he’d planned. “Where’s Timmy?”

“He said he was coming down,” Sirius replied.

Regulus nodded, then looked over at James, who was just finishing up signing some papers.

“So I’ll send Harry to stay with you for Christmas.”

“And Timmy will spend Easter with you.”

James nodded slowly, capping his pen and handing the papers to the receptionist. “Alright. That sounds fair.”

Regulus crossed his arms, his eyes scanning the movement in the lobby. The conversation was polite, but the formality didn’t hide the strange air between them — like neither of them knew quite how to close this chapter.

“Well…” Regulus began, straightening his jacket. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“Yeah…” James murmured, glancing at Sirius, who stood nearby with his arms crossed and an unmistakably displeased expression.

Before anyone could say more, Timmy appeared across the lobby. Behind him, Harry came running, slightly out of breath from trying to catch up. There was only one problem — Regulus couldn’t quite tell which was which. The boys looked identical, not just in their faces but in their clothes too — both wearing jeans that clearly belonged to Harry and a black shirt that must have been one of his as well.

“Tim... what are you wearing? We’re about to catch a flight,” Regulus said — though he wasn’t entirely sure who he was talking to. James looked just as confused.

“Here’s the thing,” said Harry — or maybe Timmy. “We’ve been thinking, and we realized we’re totally being tricked!”

Regulus and James exchanged a look. “Dad promised to take us camping, and we want to go,” said the twin on the right.

“What camping trip?” James asked, frowning.

“The one we always do before summer ends!” the twin on the left answered proudly.

“Timothy, please go change,” Regulus sighed, pointing at the boy in front of him.

“You’re sure I’m Timmy?” the boy asked, eyes twinkling.

Regulus hesitated before replying, “Of course I am!”

“But you can’t be completely sure, can you?” the other twin chimed in, driving Regulus up the wall.

“Timmy!” Regulus snapped, but both boys just exchanged amused looks and answered in perfect sync:

“What?”

“Boys, this isn’t funny. You’re going to make your dad miss his flight,” James said — but neither of the twins seemed the least bit worried. In fact, that only seemed to make them more excited.

“There’s something else you’re forgetting, Dad,” one of them said. “In four days, it’s our birthday... It’s the first one we’ll spend knowing we’re brothers, and we don’t want to be miles apart that day.”

Regulus froze. The weight of that statement hit him like a stone. He’d prepared himself to close this chapter with James — to deal with dividing time and travel — but he hadn’t been ready for the emotional punch that Timmy (or Harry) had just delivered.

“We have a proposal,” the other said.

“A proposal?” James repeated.

“Yep. We go back to Dad house and unpack,” said Harry — or Timmy — looking straight at James. “Then the four of us go camping.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “The four of us?”

“Yeah! We spend the next few days camping and get back just in time for our birthday party.”

“Oh, sure. Anything else you’d like to add?” Regulus asked dryly, though there was a trace of amusement in his tone.

James shook his head, trying to hide a smile. Despite the tension, there was something heartwarming about how united the boys were. “You know… they’ve got a point. It doesn’t feel right to separate them now. Maybe... maybe we could do this together. A break from the plan, just for a few days.”

Regulus let out a deep sigh. “Camping... Have either of you ever seen me camp? Exactly. Because I don’t camp. I didn’t even pack clothes for that.”

James grinned, clearly entertained by his protest. “Oh, come on, Reg. It’s just a few days. You don’t need a suitcase for camping — a backpack will do.”

Regulus stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “A backpack? You must be joking. I can’t survive with fewer than three pairs of shoes. And where exactly am I supposed to sleep? On the ground?”

“You can sleep in a tent,” James said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s what everyone does when they camp.”

The boys, however, weren’t discouraged by Regulus’s complaints. Harry (or Timmy) grinned. “Papa, camping is fun! You’ll like it. We can tell stories, roast marshmallows by the fire…”

That didn’t have the desired effect — it only made Regulus scowl even more. “A campfire? You really think I’m going to sit around a smoky fire roasting marshmallows?”

James placed a hand on Regulus’s shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Relax, Reg. I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll bring an air mattress. How’s that?”

Regulus hesitated, glancing at the hopeful faces of the boys — then at James, who looked far too amused by the whole thing. Finally, he sighed in defeat. “Fine. But if I see a single spider, we’re going home. Got it?”

“Got it,” James said, barely holding back a laugh.

“Good,” Regulus said, lifting his chin. “And someone better bring real coffee. Don’t expect me to drink that instant garbage.”

“You really know how to have fun, Reg,” Sirius said with a chuckle.

“Shut up, Sirius,” Regulus shot back, while the boys cheered in delight.