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“Corvus, no!”
Severus grabs his son’s chubby hand, stopping him just in time before he manages to get a handful of his hair to pull. Corvus doesn’t look happy about it, letting out a wet babble of protest and flailing his other arm and legs in a tantrum.
Regulus only watches them, stifling the smile that wants to form, while the rest of the witches and wizards surrounding them, are moving back and forth to finish registering with the Aurors or Ministry members. Severus huffs, annoyed, as he tries to keep Corvus settled on his hip and not letting him fall to the floor as he thrashes aggressively.
Right now, he kind of misses the camera he left in the moving trunk — it should already be at Grimmauld Place, neatly put away on one of the shelves by Kreacher. He doesn’t know how long they’ll last in that house, so it very well could have ended up in the other boxes bound for the Black estate in Yorkshire.
They’ve talked about it: the move. They haven’t set foot in the main house since his mother handed them the wedding rings. There are many memories he wishes he could erase, others good; but overall, Regulus knows it wasn’t a healthy place to grow up.
“Regulus!”
Regulus blinks, snapping back to himself to see the frown on Severus’ face directed at him. Time passed faster than he thought while he sank into images of his childhood home. Severus has Corvus drooling on his shoulder, calm but still grumbling in what could be signs of his first words in French.
He hopes not, since he bet Lucius they’d be in English for Severus’ sake, who was already stressed enough by not being able to follow conversations in that language to also add their baby to the problem.
“Perhaps he’s hungry?”
Severus glares at him. Seconds pass, and Regulus can’t help but marvel at how alike Corvus and Severus can be. The straight, black hair — on Corvus, combed like a little mushroom on his head. None of the Black family’s signature loose curls; nor the grey eyes, but obsidian black instead. And most notably, the crease between their brows when they’re annoyed.
Corvus lets go of one hand from the death grip he had on Severus’ robes and stuffs it into his mouth. Severus looks away to the baby, then back to Regulus with a bored, deadpan expression.
“No shit, Regulus.”
Regulus laughs, stepping closer to pull Corvus’ fingers out of his mouth before he starts biting them. Up close, the details of his baby’s little face are clearer, and it’s undeniable that he’s his too. Regulus smiles — Regulus is rewarded with a smack to the shoulder.
“Can you do your job and get us out of here?” Severus growls.
“Whatever you wish,” he replies with a small laugh, giving Corvus’ hand one last stroke before pushing his way through the crowd.
Great Britain hasn’t changed much — or at all — in the years they’ve been away, an event in itself considering the war they’ve just ended. At least, that’s what Regulus heard before returning.
His surname should help speed things along between documents to sign and questions from the Aurors in charge — the Blacks maintain their position in the Wizengamot. Regulus has been Head of House since his mother rushed the ceremony at the last minute when the war began to take shape, and it hasn’t changed since. Of course, there could be some issues since Bellatrix is in Azkaban.
Regulus grips the passports firmly and scans the Ministry-robed crowd quickly—
“What are you doing here?”
He jerks free from the rough grab, drawing his wand up to face level as a threat. Sirius steps back, mirroring the stance.
“What do you want?” he says through clenched teeth, because — fuck — since when is his brother an Auror?
He doesn’t remember much of the chaos of leaving England, much less having time to find out what happened to his older brother, whom he stopped seeing at the first opportunity. Sirius was always Potter’s lapdog, he remembers — stuck together at the hip, licking up whatever scraps the other left him just to feel what it was like to have a family of light.
Still, it shouldn’t be that surprising to see him as an Auror — however, the dark faction still holds most of the ground in the Ministry, and the Auror Academy required far more responsibility than Regulus had ever seen Sirius possess.
“I asked you something,” Sirius bites back, lifting his chin with a crooked smile. “Back from your hiding place after your master died?”
Regulus rolls his eyes, lowering his wand in a smooth motion. They’re in the middle of a terminal — there’s no way he’s dueling this idiot with a superiority complex here. “You’re an Auror—”
“You scared, huh?” Sirius mocks. “I’m gonna send you to Azkaban, you and your slimy friends—”
“Sirius—”
“Don’t interrupt me, goddamn it! Remember your place.” Sirius steps forward with a look of disgust, and Regulus has to give everything he has not to hex him on the spot. “You’re a cowardly rat, Regulus. Running so you wouldn’t get caught while the rest of us risked everything to take down your little pals, then crawling back once they lost. You weren’t here — but I was. I have everything, Regulus, everything I want because I earned it. So don’t think you’re getting away with this. I’ll arrest you and throw you into the deepest pit, as I did with our lovely cousin, once that mark under your sleeve is revealed, you spineless piece of shit.”
He should be impressed by how confident Sirius manages to feel about himself, considering he was disowned in an instant and only had a small vault Uncle Alphard gave him before dying in 1977 — which means that, if Regulus goes by the little value Sirius’ savings had back when they still lived together, it should already be gone by now.
And of course, taking into account that Regulus is the Head of the House and could burn him off the family tree at any moment.
For Merlin's sake, he even has the signet ring on his finger now.
And it’s not like it’s big news. At the time, the choice had been between Bellatrix — who can’t think for herself and even less in favor of a complete family without tipping the scales toward financial and political ruin; Narcissa, and losing the surname to the Malfoys if they failed to produce a second heir — unfortunately, conceiving a first was already difficult enough to risk confirming a second; Sirius, disowned and massively sympathetic to Muggles and all their customs, very likely to send the family name straight to hell out of spite; Andromeda, a blood traitor burned off the family tree, therefore not even eligible; or Regulus — the lesser evil.
Regulus Black, his mother’s youngest son, the most obedient after Narcissa, the House’s values drilled and carved into his being, in love with a half-blood. That last part was a problem at first, but said half-blood leaned toward Black ideals, was protected by the Malfoys, the most intelligent wizard of his generation, and the last heir of the Prince’s — something they discovered when the matriarch died and the old family’s shares and seats fell into Severus’ hands.
In the end, the decision was easy.
“Look—”
“Where are you even going to stay?” Sirius interrupts, once again. “Grimmauld is bloody fucking cursed, no one can get into that piece of shit. You gonna beg the Parkinsons for asylum? Or are you—”
Sirius’ sentence dies halfway through. His voice lowers until it disappears completely. His mouth hangs open as he shapes the next syllable, body stiff, eyes wide in surprise — not looking at Regulus anymore, but somewhere behind him. Regulus doesn’t get the chance to turn and see what made his brother stop spewing filth when a warm hand touches his arm, and very familiar babbling reaches his ears.
“Reg', where’s Burke? I want to get out of here already,” Severus complains.
And Regulus is left with his mouth slightly open, staring without blinking at his husband holding Corvus, a completely overwhelmed grimace on his face. Corvus has part of his tunic open, revealing the warm, colorful clothes printed with his favorite cartoons. His baby squirms, trying to break free from Severus’ grip, who has to use both arms to keep him secure while holding him.
Severus doesn’t seem to notice Sirius’ presence at all, ignoring him completely in favor of glaring at Regulus. He’s stressed. His cheeks are flushed — enough for Regulus to tell it’s not the natural color he’s earned over the years — and dark circles from the lack of rest they’ve had over the past months… even worse in the last few weeks, if the move is added into the mix.
Regulus snaps out of it, turning to look at his brother’s reaction. Sirius seems to have opened his mouth even wider, still scanning Severus and Corvus from head to toe. Then, after a few moments, his eyes move to Regulus, inspecting him the same way.
And the threads tie themselves together. Severus, tired and holding a child, fine robes and jewelry inherited through pureblood lines. Regulus, with the tan from the years spent in Australia, matching Corvus’. And he’s certain the smell of baby products clings to both of their clothes.
“Snivellus?!”
Regulus grimaces, bracing for the worst and readying a spell at the tip of his tongue. Severus, at his side, tenses — closing his eyes heavily for a second before opening them again and frowning at Sirius. “Really?”
Regulus doesn’t know who the question is directed at, but he nods anyway, sharing Severus’ frustration.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Sirius bellows, throwing his arms up like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “No! What the fuck! You come back with my fucking brother after disappearing off the face of the fucking earth, Snape? What the actual—”
“It’s Prince, Black,” Severus corrects, to Regulus’ amusement. “I’m no longer Snape. If you’re incapable of not doing this, at least use— Oh, it’s okay, Cor', baby, it’s okay, come on… No, no, no, you’re gonna— You wanna walk? Okay, let’s— hell… Cor', please—”
Severus drops all attention on Sirius, his voice shifting instantly into something softer as Corvus lets out a cry from overstimulation. Regulus watches him start bouncing Corvus, hoping to distract him from the conversations closing in around them, to stop the tears beginning to spill from his eyes.
“Come on, look at me, Corvus. Shh… Stop— Corvus, stop moving, you’re going to fall. I swear to God…”
While Sirius gaped like a fish, Severus paced back and forth, shushing Corvus until he stopped crying.
Maybe Regulus should step up, take Corvus from Severus’ arms and handle the situation so his husband can get a break from babies. — Now, it’s not like he’s been leaving all the responsibility to him ever since Corvus was born. That would make him a bad father, a bad husband, and in general, a bad person. Severus carried Corvus for nine months, took the potions for it even before that… Regulus would have done it, but Severus offered, and he wasn’t going to let go of the chance to see how his body changed.
So Regulus helps in everything he can. He gets up in the middle of the night when Corvus wakes up crying. He feeds him the purée he sends Kreacher to make. He struggles to bathe him…
No matter what he does, Severus still ends up exhausted. That’s just how life is once you have a baby this small, Narcissa had soothed him when she saw how frantic he was about it.
Still, they made a deal before arriving in England. One of them handles the paperwork, the other handles Corvus. Severus chose, claiming that the bureaucratic system was going to be the worst part once they arrived.
Regulus shrugs mentally, restraining himself from reaching for Corvus and letting Severus rest because it’s true — the bureaucratic system could be even more stressful if it isn’t handled properly, and Regulus was quite literally raised for it.
“I need to get out of here,” Severus says, briefly massaging his temple before Corvus decides it’s a good moment to attempt free fall. “Corvus needs food and a nap — can you look for Burke instead of entertaining the mutt? You can have your territorial battle or whatever it is later, right, Black? It would be a shame if a note of unprofessionalism over personal matters showed up on your record.”
“Sniv—”
“It’s Prince.” Severus rolls his eyes. “So, Burke?”
Regulus nods at Severus’ exasperated grimace. He places a hand on his husband’s back, throws one last look at Sirius to make sure he doesn’t try anything, and guides them toward where — he hopes — Burke is, so he can speed up the paperwork like he promised.