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Regulus knew this was going to happen. Grimmauld Place is uninhabitable.
The moment Severus set foot inside, there was already a grimace of distaste on his face. Regulus can’t blame him, considering the thick weight of volatile magic clinging to the air.
So, Corvus is sleeping with them until the move to Yorkshire is completed, and there’s no risk of him getting hurt sporadically. So, worry doesn’t let them sleep for more than a few hours at a time.
Regulus sighs, pulling out his wand to open the door. He can almost feel his energy draining the moment the noise from inside reaches his ears.
Severus passes by him, quickly handing Corvus over before disappearing into the depths of the manor.
“Looks like Dad abandoned us,” Regulus murmurs, kissing the top of his head. Corvus laughs, stretching his arms out in the direction Severus went.
Malfoy Manor is warmly lit by candles that reflect off the golden ornaments covering every surface. As beautiful as it looks against the snow outside, Regulus can’t help but shudder. He still remembers the days when merely walking through those corridors could put him in more danger than stepping onto a battlefield.
Corvus lets out a happy squeal when they enter the main sitting room and he spots the other wizards and witch gathered there. He must have missed them, Regulus realises fondly.
Severus is already seated, a steaming cup of tea resting in his lap. His head is tilted slightly to the side, with Lucius looming nearby.
“…that bad?” Regulus manages to catch the end of the question.
Severus nods, eyes closed. Narcissa looks about to speak, but cuts herself off when she notices Regulus in the doorway.
“Oh, little cousin!” she says, smiling at him fondly. Regulus steps fully inside, greeting her with a nod.
“Good evening,” he adds once Lucius turns to look at him.
He makes space for himself on the armchair opposite, settling Corvus beside him and surrounding him with cushions so he won’t fall. A cup of tea is handed once he’s done.
“Sev was telling us about the state Aunt left Grimmauld in,” Narcissa resumes, filling Regulus in briefly. And that statement is an understatement. There are cursed objects within arm’s reach, without a single protective charm to contain them. The portraits have far more independence than they should — undoubtedly his mother’s work. And even if they haven’t said anything inappropriate, their voices, even their shouting, upset Corvus to the point of tears.
They haven’t been good days.
Regulus nods.
“You know you can stay here as long as you like, don’t you?” Narcissa continues gently, folding her hands in her lap. “You can use Severus’s room, though we’d need to expand the wardrobe and the bed. And we could set up a room for Corvus fairly quickly.”
Severus opens his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “You still have that room?”
“Of course, darling,” Narcissa affirms. “It’s yours — we wouldn’t have changed it.”
“We closed the manor when we left. Upon our return, the wards showed no change. Intact.” Lucius adds, humming thoughtfully as he takes a sip of his drink. “So your room should still have your Hogwarts things, if I remember correctly. That’s how it was the last time I saw it.”
The candlelight bathes Severus warmly, highlighting the faint flush slowly creeping into his cheeks. Regulus can’t help but smile, admiring every one of his features.
He will never regret following him everywhere during their time at Hogwarts. The wait was worth it.
“Sevvy!”
A small blond blur comes running into the room — Regulus grimaces at Corvus’s answering whine —, narrowly avoiding the coffee table and Lucius’s legs before crashing straight into Severus’s lap.
Draco laughs in sharp peals, wriggling until his arms are firmly wrapped around Severus, his head buried in his robes. It hardly seems as though more than a few weeks have passed since they last saw each other, back during their brief stop in France, before the Malfoys reached England ahead of them.
Lucius huffs, muttering a reprimand that reaches no one. Instead, Draco lets out another shout, lifting his head just enough for his grey eyes to appear, aimed straight at him.
“Uncle Reggie!”
“Why don’t I get an honorific?” Severus complains under his breath, even as he steadies Draco before the child can tumble.
“Because you’re Sevvy,” Draco replies, as if it’s obvious, his tone bright and bouncing.
Regulus, for his part, shakes his head, amused. He plants his hands on his knees and leans forward to get a better look at the boy. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, Draco.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you!” Draco repeats slowly, glancing at his parents for approval.
Regulus remembers seeing him when he was nothing more than a tiny thing wrapped in blankets, taking his first breath in the world. Now, Draco speaks fluently for a four-year-old, and every day he takes on more Malfoy traits that will only sharpen as he grows.
Regulus turns to Corvus, watching him drool over his own hand, eyes wide and curious, brimming without thoughts. He doesn’t want him to grow up. He’s only one year old, yet it feels like no time at all has passed since he first held him.
“You know I meant it seriously, don’t you?” Narcissa pulls him from his thoughts. Regulus has to blink and take a few seconds to remember where the conversation had been left. “About staying,” Narcissa supplies.
Her voice has dropped, soft, strong enough for him to hear without carrying the force it had before. Regulus feels her closer now as well, realising she’s moved towards him, facing him fully.
“Oh…” Narcissa rolls her eyes, though the ghost of a smile clings to her perfectly painted lips. “I wouldn’t want to—”
“Don’t think we’re doing this for you,” Lucius cuts in, walking up to his wife, while — Regulus realises — Severus remains further back, speaking with an overexcited Draco. The child sprawls across the armchair, hopping from one point to another as he rambles on at speed. “I know you can handle the dark things your family enjoys collecting.”
“Lucius,” Narcissa scolds quietly.
“Regulus grew up in that place, my dear,” Lucius says flatly, casting an unimpressed look at Regulus. “A few years abroad won’t erase a childhood surrounded by… Walburga’s customs. Severus, on the other hand—”
“Severus knows how to handle himself.”
Lucius grumbles, “I would rather he didn’t.”
And it isn’t something Regulus hadn’t known already. Lucius holds an exceptional fondness for Severus, almost from the moment he first saw him at the Sorting — the reason why Regulus learned of his husband’s existence in the first place. And he has to be grateful for at least that much.
He doesn’t know exactly what happened during the year Severus spent alone at Hogwarts, but it led to Lucius and Narcissa taking him in during summers and holidays once they were married and the lordship slipped from Abraxas Malfoy’s hands.
Regulus was only Narcissa’s younger cousin, visiting once a year at the tense family dinners none of them wanted to attend. Their relationship had been precarious — a formality between relatives — but close enough for their time at school to be considered that of allies. That’s no longer the case, though, and he’s managed to salvage a very valuable friendship not only with his cousin, but with her husband as well. Still, he knows the Malfoys’ relationship with Severus is different from his own.
“You need to stop overprotecting him,” Narcissa says. Ignoring his wife’s comment, Lucius settles closer to her side, glancing towards Severus and Draco before turning back to them.
“As if you weren’t the same, my dear.” Regulus rolls his eyes but says nothing, limiting himself to finishing the last sip of his tea. He needs something stronger. “Besides, there are cursed parts of that house Severus is far more likely to be harmed by than Regulus ever was. Blood purity in your family is a very openly debated subject.”
Half-blood. None of them dare say it — not when Severus and Draco are close enough to hear.
His mother may have accepted the union — accepted Severus as the source of Regulus’s happiness — but years of Black indoctrination against ‘weak’ blood statuses weren’t going to be undone by that alone.
One of the reasons Regulus wants out of that house as soon as possible: it’s a minefield waiting to explode against Severus if he steps in the wrong place. He doesn’t doubt Severus has already sensed the danger — at least, to some extent. Cursed objects hide more than what’s visible at first glance. The list of their uses stretches across books sealed with blood protections in the family library.
Regulus hadn’t thought it would be this bad. He regrets underestimating his ancestors.
“What about the Prince properties?” Narcissa asks.
Regulus shakes his head, a frown forming between his brows. “They’re sealed.”
“Sealed?”
He sighs, considering how best to explain the state of the Prince inheritance. It’s so convoluted, riddled with clauses that often cancel each other out — as if they’d been written without consulting the previous ones, stitched together in desperation.
“And the houses in Australia, then?”
Regulus sets his teacup aside, shaking his head gently. “Those were unbound,” he explains. “Ágatha wasn’t lying about the inheritance — it’s all Severus’s. But he can’t access all of it.”
Lucius raises his eyebrows, watching him closely, and Regulus feels himself flush at how much his explanation is leaving unsaid. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts.
“You could say, the Prince fortune is assigned to the bloodline descending from Severus. And while he holds Wizengamot seats and has access to some properties, the oldest and most closely guarded part of the Prince's secrets remains sealed until a purer-blood heir can unlock it. That includes the Britain properties and several copies of the family library stored in Gringotts vaults.”
“Bloody hell,” Lucius mutters under his breath. Anger takes hold of his expression, settling over the three of them like a shroud.
Narcissa is the first to regain her composure, though she draws a deeper breath before speaking. “What about Corvus?” she asks, glancing briefly at the baby.
Regulus bites his lower lip, recalling their visit to Gringotts. “We registered him as a Black heir when he was born. It was an agreement with my mother. Cor’ would receive the same treatment as Sev — and we still wouldn’t gain access unless we had another child.”
“How long have you known?”
“Last week,” Regulus answers, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. Just getting through the first clauses had taken him days. He’d torn them apart until they were nothing but meaningless fragments by the time he reached the end.
“I’m surprised Severus didn’t come to me with the documents,” Lucius remarks, one eyebrow raised.
“Well,” Regulus clears his throat, slightly hesitant now. He’s already opened his mouth — there’s no turning back. “I was the one who handled the paperwork.”
Narcissa and Lucius exchange a look which, after a moment, sharpens in Regulus’s direction.
“I’m quite sure I raised him well enough to take responsibility for his own duties,” Lucius says. Regulus grimaces at the dryness of his tone. Irritated. “No wonder the move has been delayed if you’re hoarding everything yourself.”
“Sev doesn’t like bureaucracy,” Regulus defends himself, puffing his chest for a brief moment. He glances towards Severus on the other side of the room, standing opposite Draco with only the glass table between them. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but they look happy. “I’d rather take that weight off his shoulders. And the renovations in Yorkshire have been underway since we set foot back in England — but it’s worse than I initially thought. No one’s lived there for decades. It’s practically being rebuilt from scratch.”
At least the Yorkshire property isn’t filled with cursed objects and lethal traps.
He wants a peaceful life with Severus and Corvus. He’s turning the old building into a home — usable fireplaces in the main sitting room and winter chambers, a courtyard where his son can play with the broom he’ll get him once he’s old enough not to topple over just standing up, a large library for both Severus and himself, a potions laboratory, habitats for magical creatures…
He hopes for a happy life, holding everything he once wished for close to his chest, where he needs nothing else.
Australia was the closest he ever came to that happiness. A fresh start in a country far from deadly wars, with their friends by their side. All of them safe, simply young, living fully.
And yet, a part of him remained in England. He grew up here, lived his childhood and early youth on this continent, and when they left, it felt as though something fundamental had been torn from him. Perhaps it was the lack of closure. He hopes to find the reason — but if England proves to be the same headache it once was, he won’t hesitate to leave again. For Severus, for Corvus, and for himself.
“I’m glad it was you,” Narcissa says, not stopping to explain even as Regulus’s face clearly reflects confusion. “Lucius had so many names on those lists for the marriage contracts… I don’t think any of them shared such a deep connection with Sev as you do.”
Regulus blinks — completely ignoring Lucius’s snort in the background. As though his mind refuses to process the information, he can do nothing but breathe, frozen as if caught under a paralysing spell.
Marriage contracts? Regulus had never been told of them — not once had the subject been raised during the many dinners with the Malfoys. And in any case, why would Lucius arrange marriages in Severus’s stead?
“What?” is all he manages, his throat scraping with dryness.
“Oh, we never told you?”
Lucius deadpans. “It’s a family tradition.”
“Arranged marriages?” Nothing new — not in pure-blood society. But they’re talking about Severus. His Severus. Who grew up in the Muggle world, far removed — supposedly safe — from the conservative, archaic practices of the magical one. “Why, for Merlin’s sake, would you sell Severus?”
“I wasn’t selling him.” Regulus frowns as Lucius huffs irritably — not nearly as much as Regulus himself, whose hands itch to do something. Perhaps shake the Malfoy patriarch senseless.
“An arranged marriage,” he emphasises, calming himself just enough not to draw his husband’s attention — happily unaware of the conversation. “He doesn’t belong to you for you to do something like that.”
“It’s not a matter of ownership. Severus is family — wasn’t that clear to you? If it hadn’t been for the Prince inheritance, he’d be carrying the Malfoy name by now. And for that reason, as I’m sure you heard me say, it is a family tradition — one Severus himself was aware of.”
“It’s not as though we were going to betroth him to a stranger, cousin. Lucius and I chose rather good people, actually. Intelligent, respectable boys. I’m certain you know some of them — they were… good friends Severus made back at Hogwarts. Charming young men who would surely have looked after Severus’s comfort.” Narcissa cuts in before Regulus can give them a piece of his mind; however, nothing she says manages to soothe the heat of anger crawling beneath his skin — he thinks he might see red if she goes on. “We sent letters, you see, and Severus was meant to choose one himself once he came of age. There was no need to rush into signing any contracts when he still had so much left to experience.”
Regulus breathes deeply, blinking a second longer to gather himself. “Why didn’t I know about this? My mother never mentioned these letters.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Regulus,” Lucius spits. “Your family has made its stance on blood status abundantly clear.”
“We weren’t going after heirs of powerful houses,” Narcissa says tiredly, shaking her head. “Not only would it have humiliated Sev if they refused publicly, he’d have been branded egotistical as well.”
“What year was this?”
“Let’s see… we gained custody during his second year, so the letters were sent at the end of the summer of ’73,” Narcissa answers, her brow faintly furrowed as she looks to her husband for confirmation.
Regulus does the maths.
He would have been finishing his first year at Hogwarts then, and by that point, Sirius was already on thin ice with their mother. The chances of Regulus taking his place as heir were becoming increasingly real — and back then, he remembers, his attention towards Severus amounted to little more than a phantom curiosity about his aptitude in corridor duels.
Regulus crosses his arms, grumbling under his breath. There was no way his mother would have accepted a marriage agreement in those years — nor would Regulus have begged for one yet.
“To whom did you send them?” he asks, against his better judgement.
Narcissa and Lucius exchange a look.
Regulus bounces his foot against the floor, anxiety creeping in as the seconds pass and the only response he gets is his cousin’s pressed lips and a slight twitch at the corner of Lucius’s mouth.
Does Regulus know them? That’s what Narcissa had implied earlier. He no longer speaks casually with most of his Hogwarts acquaintances, but he still keeps in touch where politics and alliances demand it.
What criteria did they use to choose them? Was Severus excited by it?
The married couple sinks into a silence Regulus is beginning to recognise as perpetual — one that lasts until the conversation is forcibly redirected.
“Were they good?” he asks.
“They were ideal to keep him safe.” Lucius doesn’t answer the question, circling around it instead of offering a simple yes or no.
Regulus scoffs.
House-elves bring over a pair of cups and an assortment of pastries, arranging them neatly on the coffee table. Severus is now sitting on the floor, his cup of tea abandoned in a corner. His hands rest in his lap as he fixes his gaze on Draco. The boy leans over the table, stretching from one end to the other to grab the sweetest treats, then carefully arranging them on his plate.
Once Draco sits cross-legged, satisfied with his portion of biscuits and tartlets, the rest of the snacks vanish with a pop, leaving only a jug of water and a couple of stacked glasses in one corner.
“Sev found the best version of himself with you, cousin. I don’t see why you’d trouble yourself over what might have been. You won’t change anything by spiralling into it — you’ll only ruin your present, and the ways in which you can still grow.” Narcissa says it slowly, gently. Her words linger in the air for a moment before dissolving.
Regulus doesn’t dare say more, knowing there will be no further answers than the ones he’s already been given.
Draco stands, planting his hands on the glass table and leaning his full weight forward as he stretches towards the water and the glasses he can barely reach. They’re made of various materials and colours — some holding softly tinted liquids, others as clear as spring water.
After a moment’s thought, Draco lunges clumsily for the brightest one, polished and washed so thoroughly it’s easy to see straight through it.
“You’re going to break it,” Severus warns, plucking the glass from Draco’s hands and replacing it with another — garish colours, clearly meant for small children.
Draco whines, stomping against the floor and dropping the cup. It bounces and rolls away without a scratch. “I won’t.”
“You would've, brat.”
“You don’t know anything!” Draco sticks his tongue out, squeezing his eyes shut and earning an indignant look from Severus.
“I’m older than you for a reason!”
“No!”
“Yes!” Severus leans over the table, staring straight at Draco. “You can barely go to the loo on your own, you little rat.”
“I’m not a rat!” Draco shouts. “Mum, Sev’s bothering me!”
The shouting continues — Draco’s complaints met with distracted nods from his parents. Regulus raises an eyebrow. He should be used to this by now.
“I’d recommend having another one soon, before Corvus understands what it means not to be an only child,” Narcissa says with an amused smile, once Draco stops seeking help and refocuses on his argument. She gestures lightly towards Severus and Draco, openly. “You don’t want them to be like that.”
“You’re not going to do anything?” Regulus asks.
He ignores—deliberately—the implications that linger beneath the suggestion. The assumption that there will be another child, inevitably. Corvus is still far too small, demanding more time than Regulus had ever anticipated, and he doesn’t even want to think of adding another child to that weight just yet.
He is content with one, even if it means certain inheritances will never pass on, if that is how fate wills it.
Corvus is his joy—messy, overwhelming, fierce in a way that leaves no room for doubt. He loves him as deeply as he loves Severus, and can picture a full life with just the three of them, right up until his final breath.
Still… should the opportunity come, someday in the future, he knows he would welcome the chance to grow their family with open arms.
“Has she ever?” Lucius sighs, finally looking away from the chaotic scene as he sits on the arm of Narcissa’s chair, his cane hanging uselessly at his side.
Narcissa ignores the comment. “I’ve heard it builds character.”