Lenn!! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

I'm so scared to post it, guys...

First of all, i want you to know that i did my research – i've read articles written by Deaf people, i've watched videos made by Deaf people, i consulted my hard of hearing friend. My goal here wasn't to make fun or represent anyone in a bad way, you have to trust me. If it's written badly, if it's not accurate at all, please let me know and I'll take my fic down.

All the dialogues in "..." (i don't remember what it is called lol) are either mouthed by Remus, said by reader, or signed by both of them. Dialogue written like this is messages written in Remus' notebook. I hope these instructions are clear enough haha. Ending is kinda rushed, I'm sorry for it!

────୨ৎ────

The first time you meet – monday

It's a day like any other at work.

Taking orders from customers. Making coffee. Slicing cake. Cleaning.

Nothing out of ordinary.

You're not surprised, then, when a young man comes up to the counter and smiles at you politely.

What catches you off guard, though, is when he starts signing. Something simple – good morning or hello, maybe – but to be honest, you've never learnt basics of sign language, so you have no idea what exactly he is saying.

And, despite it not really being your fault, you feel incredibly stupid.

You give him an apologetic smile and mouth a remorseful "I'm sorry." He waves his hand in the air with a small smile and slides a tiny note across the table.

I'm deaf. I'd like a Caffè Mocha. To go. Cheers.

with a mini smiley face right next to it.

You look up at him – he's pretty, you have to admit – and nod with a smile. He smiles right back, running his hand through his mousy brown hair. He has dimples on both sides of his mouth, and freckles littered all over his face, you notice. Cute.

You charge him before turning around and starting to make his coffee. You can feel him gazing at you, but you try to ignore it as you move from step to step, preparing his drink.

It's early, around 7 or 8 am, so apart from him, there are only two university students in the café. An ABBA song plays in the background, but you're too aware of his eyes following you to catch any of the lyrics.

You pray he doesn't see it as you pull out your phone and type how to sign bye and have a nice day in bsl in the browser. You scroll through hundreds of results until you find an appropriate video.

A deaf woman named Kate, as she introduces herself, shows you how to bid someone farewell. You follow her a couple of times, and when you finally feel confident enough, with a paper cup in your hand, you go back to the counter where he still waits.

You put the cup in front of him.

Smiling, a bit flustered, you sign bye and have a nice day to him. It feels weird – you're moving from sign to sign slowly and clumsily, taking small breaks between every of them to think about your next move. You make a mistake once or twice, but you quickly correct it, hoping it didn't completely change the meaning, and you didn't, let's say, offend him.

His face lights up, and he smiles – a full teeth grin. His hand wrapes around the plastic cup with Mocha Caffè, hot and aromatic, and he brings it to his mouth. He takes a sip - there's pure bliss on his face as he tastes it.

Your face, on the other hand, burns – you can tell even without touching your cheeks. Warmth spreads over your ears and down your neck. You resist the urge to cover up.

He brings his open palm to his chin and then slowly pulls it away. You think it means "thank you," but what do you know, really?

With another grin, he mirrors your bye, and with that, he's gone, leaving behind a pleasant smile of coffee and some nice cologne.

You feel giddy for the rest of the day, recounting this encounter to anyone who's willing to listen.

Since that moment, he has become a regular at your coffee shop.

And you?

You decided to learn some basics, just to be able to communicate with him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You know he's here even before you see him – it's his cologne that is so familiar to you.

You wish you could help the excitement that bubbles inside of you at the thought of him and, most importantly, what you're going to show him – you're practically buzzing with happiness, but you're trying so hard not to let it show. You don't want to scare him away.

First, he raps his fingers against the counter.

Then, he takes notice of the brown counter bell you bought and put on display – specifically for him and any other Deaf people that may need it. It makes him smile. How thoughtful of you.

He presses it gently, and it rings quietly.

Even though you knew he's here even before he pressed the bell, you pretend to be surprised when you turn around and your eyes lock. You'd make a great actresses, really.

"Hi." he signs.

"Hello." You sign back.

He's about to slide the note with his order across the table, just like he did the first time, and the four times after that, but you stop him by mouthing wait.

With your pointer and middle finger, you sign the word name. Then, you point at yourself. Using the sign language alphabet, you spell out your name.

You had exactly five days to learn how to do it. Each evening, right after your shift, you'd open your laptop and immerse yourself in learning - video after video, tutorial after tutorial - so much that your tea has long gone cold and the sun has already set behind the window.

But it paid off - he smiles so widely that you wonder if his mouth doesn't hurt.

"I like it." He's a thoughtful man, so he moves his hands slowly, so you can understand.

And you do understand – it makes you so proud of yourself that you can't stop a goofy smile from spreading across your face.

He points at himself. R e m u s.

And just like that, with a few simple signs and smiles, you get acquainted with each other.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Remus doesn't show up for the whole day which, truthfully, makes you worried. Sure, it's not like he has to drink coffee everyday. He shouldn't if he doesn't want to go bankrupt anyway - you love your job, there's no doubt about it, but the prices here are a real rip-off.

Still, it doesn't stop you from overthinking. Plus, you feel a tiny bit embarassed. Have you really developed a crush on a random guy who decided to come to your coffe shop every day? A cute guy, sure, but just a guy nonetheless. He shouldn't have such effect on you.

You're screwed, you know it very well.

But there's still work to be done. With a heavy sigh, you start cleaning the coffee machine.

The task is monotonous, you're knackered, and you can barely keep your eyes open, so when someone starts knocking on the door, you almost get a heart attack. Alarmed, with a damp cloth in hand, you turn around. And here he is - the guy you've been waiting for the whole day.

At your sight, he smiles and you know you're done for.

☕︎☕︎☕︎

As you unlock the door, his hand immediately flies to your bicep. He moves it down your skin, to the inside of your elbow and over the pulse point on your wrist. When he reaches your hand, curled tightly into a fist, he stops. Your eyes meet. You hold your breath, both surprised and intimidated by his closeness and the warm touch of his fingers on your bare skin.

"Sorry for coming so late." Remus mouths slowly. He lets go of your hand, just for a second, to sign along with his words.

"It's okay." You say. His eyes follow every move, every even the tiniest twitch of your mouth as you form your next question. "You alright?"

Remus nods. He points at you with his index finger as a way of asking You?

"I'm fine." You hesitate for a second or two before adding. "I've been waiting for you the whole day."

"I'm sorry." He apologizes again as he touches each one of your knuckles tenderly. Too tenderly considering how short you've known each other.

Then, so slowly you have to remind yourself to breathe again, he uncurls your fingers and places something on your palm. A crumbled piece of paper. His number. You look up at him.

"Text me." Remus adds. You watch the movement of his hands, trying to, although unsuccessfully, to memorize it. You fish an old receipt out of your jeans pocket and scribble down your own number before pushing it into his hand.

The dishwasher quietens, the sound of glasses and plates being taken out follows. Soon, your shift supervisor emerges from the back room, carrying clean dishes in her hands, about to put them back in the cupboards. She freezes when she sees Remus.

"Y/N, wha'ts going on here?" She asks, both alarmed and confused. "And who's that?"

"That's my...uh...friend. He was just dropping by."

"You know very well you can't let anyone in after hours." Julie, your supervisor, grimaces. "Do you want me to report you for not following the rules?"

"No, of course not! I'm sorry. It won't happen again, promise." You smile weakly. "He's leaving anyway."

"Seems like he have already left." She smirks, not cruel, but also not kind. You turn around, just to see that he's, indeed, already out of the coffee shop and heading towards the bus stop.

Your phone beeps, signaling a new notification. You, as discreetly as it is possible, take it out and check the message you've got. It comes from an unknown number, but you know it's him.

Unknown: I'm sorry for leaving without a word. I hope i didn't cause you any trouble.

You save his contact as Remus. Nothing crazy.

You: you didn't. Julie can be a real bitch when she wants to

Remus: 😂

Julie's voice resonates through the room again. "Go back to work! It won't do itself!"

You sigh, putting into that as much annoyance as it is possible. Julie, to your already huge frustration, speaks up once more. "Chop chop, Y/N. I'm not planning on staying here the whole night."

You: i have to go. Julie's bitching again lol

You put your phone back in your pocket and muttering a frustrated 'fuck off, Julie' you go back behind the counter and resume cleaning the coffee machine.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your eyes water from how intensely you are staring at your laptop's screen, but you don't dare look away from the video you're watching - another bsl tutorial. This time, it's how to ask about someone's wellbeing and possible responses to that.

That is until you get a new message. You grab your phone so fast you almost knock a cup of tea off the table. Your cat, which has been lying on your lap, growls with discontent. Can it be him?

It's indeed him.

Remus: You up?

Just be casual, you think to yourself, he can't know you have a stupid, teenage-like crush on him.

You: Yep. I'm studying

Remus: What are you studying?

You snap a photo of your laptop's screen and send it to him. You chew on your lower lip as you wait for the response. Too eager?

Your phone beeps, and you almost drop it.

Remus: Smart girl

Lord, have mercy because this man definitely will be the death of you.

Remus: I think i wanna marry you

Three dots appear on the screen again, then vanish. You can feel your hands sweat and your heart beat abnormally fast in anticipation.

It's a joke, right? It has to be a joke. He's just taking the piss and it doesn't mean anything.

But gosh, you actually hope it means he fancies or at least starts to fancy you, too.

Remus: Whoops. Didn't mean to send this.

Three seconds later, another message comes through.

Remus: Was it weird?

You start to write a message, then quickly delete it - everything sounds too stupid to send. You do it for at least three or four times before deciding to be brave and settling on:

You: Not at all. Is it weird that I'm trying to learn bsl for you?

Remus: That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me actually.

Remus: you're cute

You: I like you

You: I wanna be with you

Ugh, you have really fallen head over heals for him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It's barely 7am when the bell above the door rings, and he walks in. You stop wiping the counter and turn around.

You exchange greetings – in sign language, of course – and Remus, as you learnt during one of his visits, takes a seat at the nearby table. He doesn't usually do it, most of the time taking the coffee to go, so it's nice to see. He's facing away from you, so you can't see his face - only the back of his head, full of curls and his quite muscular arms. He has a tattoo on his forearm, a small moon surrounded by tiny stars, you notice just now.

You watch in the corner of your eye as he takes a book out of his backpack and opens it. It's tattered and coffee stained, but he doesn't seem like a person who really cares about the state of his belongings. Next, he takes out a notebook and a pen – for you and him to communicate. You both agreed that writing your thoughts down will be the best way for you to communicate with each other. For now, at least.

You haven't learnt that much of sign language yet – some basics like greetings, wellbeing, orders – but it's enough and definitely worth learning if it makes him smile.

Once his coffee is ready – Mocha, as usual – you approach the table where he sits, completely engrossed in his book. You put the mug down and gently knock on the table to get his attention. When he looks up, you sign here you go, and he signs thank you, smiling at you so gently your heart flutters.

And Oh God, are those butterflies you feel in your belly?

Remus picks up the pen and quickly jots something down. He turns the notebook towards you.

Sit with me?

You look around, unsure. It's still just you and him, but what if someone comes to the coffee shop and finds you chatting with a customer instead of working? It'd be incredibly unprofessional and would surely get you scolded or worse, reported to the boss.

When you stay quiet, he scribbles something down again.

Just for a few minutes. Please?

His gentle smile and his big brown eyes do it for you, and you nod, resigned. Remus smiles with satisfaction and pulls out a chair for you. You sit down across from him.

"How are you?" You ask.

"Alright." He responds. "You?"

"Same."

That's where your sign language skills end, so you reach for his notebook. Do you have classes today?

Remus shakes his head. Nope. Got something in mind?

You hesitate as you get ahold of pen again – it feels quite silly to exchange notes like that. It reminds you of your high school days where you'd take turns with your friends, either making silly drawings or passing each other notes under the table.

I thought we could go out

No. Too bold.

Coffee date?

Even worse.

Then, an idea stricks you.

Maybe we could meet after my shift and you could teach more signs. Are you up to it?

You slide the notebook across the table. Remus reads what you wrote, then lifts his head. Your eyes meet, and Remus signs yes.

The bell above the door rings again, announcing another customer. Your conversation ends quicker than you expected, but hey, you've just got yourself something alike to date.

You can't stop grinning as you come back behind the counter.

☕︎☕︎☕︎

It's still light outside when you end your shift and clock out. You put your hair up and push the door open with your hip.

Remus sits on the bench with a book in his hand – the one he read earlier. Next to him is a bag and two plastic cups. Tea and biscuits, you assume. You've known him for barely two weeks, but you've already learnt that if there is something he loves more than Mocha Caffè then it's tea and biscuits.

You approach him and nudge his shoe with yours to catch his attention. Remus closes his book, stands up, and gathers his things.

You don't sign anything, and neither does he. Words aren't needed.

You link your arms and head towards the nearby park.

☕︎☕︎☕︎

The sun pleasantly warms your shoulders as you sit on the bench in the park. Remus gives you a cup of tea, as you suspected, and a chocolate chip cookie. You sign thank you.

That's my favourite he writes in his notebook as he takes a bite from his cookie. What would you like to learn? He adds.

What's better to learn than some curses?

"What about...bloody hell?"

Remus shakes his head with a smile. I should've expected this from you.

"Hey!" You elbow him, and he just laughs. It's loud and cheerful, so unfiltered it makes you smile yourself. You wish he could hear his own laugh and know how lovely it is. "So...?" You prompt. Remus turns the page of his notebook.

Bloody hell it is then.

You silly girl.

If he reached out and touched your face, he'd feel how hot your cheeks are at the moment.

It's hard to look both at his hands and lips, especially when they look so kissable, but you're managing it pretty well.

Bloody hell turns out to be easier than you expected. Not necessarily easy since sign language is an entirely new thing for you, but definitely easier than all the languages you have tried and failed to learn in the past.

And Remus, besides being charming and smart, is also a great teacher.

"Stop faffing around." Remus scolds you playfully as you try to sign another curse and mess up again – not because you can't do it. You're doing it because you want to see his smile, and his smile is nice. Lovely, really. "You're an awful student, do you realise that?"

"I'm not!" You protest, but you quickly break into laughter. Remus waits patiently for you to calm down, and when you finally do, he scoots closer.

The last remnants of laugh and words you were going to say die on your tongue as his hands, incredibly gently, take hold of your wrists. For the entire time, Remus keeps eye contact with you, almost like he's checking if you're alright with what he's doing.

"Let's forget about curses for a moment, yeah?" He says, and you nod, speechless – it's like you've lost control of your own body.

Even when he lets go of your wrists, you stay still, waiting for whatever he's going to do next.

You don't have to wait for long.

Remus points at himself. I okay, that's what you understand. Then, he places his palm flatly on his chest. Finally, he points at you.

That you surely haven't learnt yet.

His mouth is closed, he doesn't mouth what he's signing like he usually does, so you're really clueless.

You furrow your eyebrows, and Remus smiles knowingly. You ask. "What does it mean?"

He shakes his head, confusing you even further. He grabs the notebook, scribbles something down, and shows you the page with only one sentence on it.

I'll tell you when the time's right.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You've thought it would never happen and you were just being delusional. Or worse, he was just being kind and not flirting with you at all. But, like many times before, you were mistaken - Remus, the cute guy you decided to learn a whole new language for, asked you out on a date.

And is now standing in the middle of your small, cluttered living room, looking very handsome in a brown jacket and with a bouqet of lovely flowers in hand.

If you've ever thought that maybe Remus isn't the boy for you, your cat's reaction proves, one more time, that you were mistaken.

She's rubbing against his leg, asking for pats and cuddles, and you almost feel jealous because that's still your kitty. He coos to her, she purrs, and you swear you want to marry him here and now.

You really need to get a grip on yourself.

His questioning gaze meets your dreamy one, and he points at the flowers.

"Oh yeah." You murmur, suddenly flustered, as you rush towards him and take the bouquet from his hands. "Thank you."

You look down at the bouquet, more to avoid his piercing gaze than to actually admire the flowers. You can't do that for long, though. Remus' hand, adorned with freckles and small scars, travels to your face and gently, painfully so, touches your cheek. You shudder, just a little. If he wasn't looking at you so intensly, he wouldn't notice it at all.

His hazel eyes are warm when you look up at him.

"I can't talk with you if you're not looking at me." Remus smiles, but there's sadness in it. "I need to see your lips, lovely."

"Sorry." You apologise guiltily. Remus cups your chin in his hand. It's warm against your cool skin. "They're beautiful."

Remus brightens up again. His gaze moves down your body, subtly but noticeably, as he admires your outfit.

"You look beautiful." His thumb grazes your lower lip. You look away, but he only moves your face back towards him. "You are beautiful. Magnificent. The most gorgeous woman i've seen."

"Don't." Your gaze falls on his lips as you feel too flustered to look him in the eyes. "I'm not."

"But you are." Remus insists. He's being serious, you can tell by the firm expression on his face. He doesn't say anything out loud, only signs and mouths, but the message is clear. "You're bloody beautiful."

"Okay, charmer, i need to put these in a vase and get my purse before we go." You change the topic, and Remus lets you. He steps back, letting his hand graze your bare arm for the last time, and you do the same.

You can feel his eyes following you as you leave the room and head to the kitchen to fill up the vase with water.

☕︎☕︎☕︎

When you come back to the room, Remus is looking through the books on your shelf, running his fingers along the spines with care, like they're something sacred. You turn the light on and off a couple of times to let him know you're back.

He turns around. Your kitty is in his arms, snuggling to him like she has always belonged there. She purrs when he scratches her between the ears. You raise your eyebrows, and Remus gives you a goofy smile.

"Not my fault."

You don't know of who you should feel more jealous – Remus because your kitty seems to take quite a liking to him or her because you'd like to be the one in his arms.

☕︎☕︎☕︎

The candles between you illuminate Remus' handsome face. All of it - scars, freckles, dimples. You don't know where these thoughs are coming from, but the urge to reach for him and kiss every freckle and each one of his scars grows stronger with every passing minute of silence that has settled between you.

"What?" A flick of his pointer finger and a confused expression on his face.

Gentle music in the background. Chatter of other customers. Empty plates on the table. Half full glasses of red wine. His hand, pale and covered in scars next to the bottle, his fingertips grazing yours.

"Nothing." A quick movement of your hands. "You wanted to tell me something, didn't you?"

Remus nods, inhales deeply and exhales slowly, rolls his shoulders twice.

You start to get impatient. You can barely handle the growing tension, the seriousness of this moment.

Then, he smiles. And after that, he does something you don't expect - signs the same words he did on your first date. This time, though, he mouths along with it, and you can clearly read his lips.

"I like you."

You look at him – wide-eyed, lips parted – and Remus smiles. First, tentatively. Then, the longer you stay quiet, just looking at him, his smiles slowly disappears. He glances away, fidgets in his chair. The music around you, so delicate and sensual, becomes unbearable and you're glad he can't hear it.

When he looks at you again, about to raise his hand and sign something, probably I'm sorry or forget about it you grab his hand.

It's Remus' turn to be shocked and your turn to smile.

"I like you too, Remus." You haven't practised these signs before, but they come to you easily, like it all was meant to be from the very start of your relationship.

Remus can't help but beam.

"What now?" Remus asks, still stunned, but slowly coming around. He looks at your hand, which envelops his again. He runs his thumb along your skin, slowly but tenderly.

"Now...i guess we're boyfriend and girlfriend."

"I like that." His smile widens even further. "Though it didn't go quite as i wanted."

"No?" You ask. "How did you wanted it to go, then?"

"I wanted to take you on a walk after dinner...buy you some flowers." Remus admits sheepishly and looks to the side, his freckled cheeks getting red. "I guess I'm just too impulsive."

You shake your head. "I don't need any of it, Remus. I'm just glad you confessed."

"And i'm glad you feel the same."

Your wine glasses clink as you raise them to make a toast. Long candles cast shadows on both of your faces, your eyes meet above the rims, your lips stretch out in joyful smiles.

You're happy, you really are.

Remus admires you as you take a sip of your wine, unable to stop grinning, so unbelievably in love – he doesn't think he has ever been so in love with anyone.

"What?" You move your pointer finger from side to side, your free hand still closed around the glass, your eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm such a lucky man."

Oh, Remus. Yes, you are.

────୨ৎ────

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

For the first time i wrote something in one sitting 🫠 while writing this i had some sort of famous footballer James in mind, i guess? Idk haha

────୨ৎ────

James' phone rings in the middle of his afternoon football practice with Peter. He glances over his shoulder at Remus and Sirius, lazily spread out on the bench, basking in the scorching, summer sun. All sweaty and hot, he trudges towards the place where Remus reads – or at least was reading until James's phone didn't start ringing loudly in his short's pocket, pulling his attention away from the story.

"Who's calling?" He asks, wiping his sweaty forehead with his shirt, as Remus puts the book aside and fishes James' phone out of his pocket.

Remus' eyes widen, hilariously so, as he sees the contact name. He freezes, his eyes focused on the phone's screen, his hand pausing mid movement in Sirius' hair. Sirius grumbles, but Remus doesn't resume caressing his hair. James' eyebrows furrow at his friend's weird reaction.

"Remus?"

"It's Y/N." Remus chokes out, finally looking up at James. Sirius, a moment ago so blisfully unaware of everything happening around him, also perks up. Peter joins them with a football ball in his hands and his brows furrowed in confusion.

"What's going on?" Peters asks, but no one answers.

James takes the phone from Remus' hand, more forcefully than he intended. He stares at the screen for a moment, his finger hoovering over the buttons, the red and the green one, before pressing accept. He puts the device to his ear.

All he hears on the other end is your irregular breathing and quiet hiccuping, as well as rustling of something, most likely tissues.

"Y/N?" He asks quietly. His voice wavers.

Your words make his blood run cold. "I'm pregnant, James."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Two months earlier

"Honey, I'm home!" James's cheerful, just a bit tired, voice reaches your ears, but you don't move from your spot by the sink, remaining still, with water still dripping down your arms and dishes drying on the rack.

James's excitement doesn't waver as he makes his way to the kitchen where he hopes to find you. He doesn't mind his sweaty sport clothes or the mud mixed with grass blades on his calves. He's just happy his team won. Also, a bit tipsy from the outing with his teammates after the game.

"Baby, are you here?" He asks, peeking into the room.

First, he notices you. Then, his attention – slowly, like in a movie – drifts to the table. Candles are still burning, the anniversary gift you made yourself still awaits for him. Dinner you prepared has long gone cold and your wine glass is empty – his, on the other hand, is full. Untouched.

Because he wasn't here.

It all dawns at him at once.

He missed your anniversary.

James clears his throat. "Honey..."

"Enjoyed your evening with boys?" You ask and James recoils at your snarky tone. You grab the tea towel and start drying off your arms.

"I...honey..." James tries and fails to explain himself. He runs his hand through his hair, fixes his askew glasses. His brain's working overtime, trying to come up with something sensible.

You turn around. Your face is dry – you've cried enough earlier, all while he was out with his teammates. "Every damn time, James."

His eyes widen. "...what?"

"You've been missing our dates for three months." You say flatly. "And for what? For games and interviews. All this bullshit."

James doesn't want to admit it hurts to hear you speak like this. He loves playing. He loves giving interviews. Were you never happy for him?

"Listen..." He tries again. Hopelessness is written all over his face.

"No, James. You listen. I understand you got famous. I really do. And despite it all, I'm happy for you." You smile, but it's a bitter smile. "But I'm tired. I don't think I'm strong enough to be a football star's girlfriend."

It's fair to say that James is speechless. And terrified. Quite frankly, he feels like his whole world is falling apart. And maybe it is.

"I've packed my things. I'll move out tomorrow." You add.

"Love..." James drops on his knees in front of you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your belly. "Don't leave me. I'll be better. I'll stop giving so many interviews and playing so much. I'll be good. For you."

You shake your head. Tears fill your eyes again, so you blink them away – you don't want to cry in front of him, to show him how much it hurts you to do this. But you have to – for your well-being. And for his too. He needs to sort his priorities out.

So slowly that James almost gets hopeful again, you unwrap his hands from your waist and step aside. He tries to block your way, touch you, do anything to prevent you from leaving, but you don't let him.

You leave the kitchen with a heavy heart. Heavier than ever before.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Now

The knocking on the door is loud in your otherwise quiet flat. You drag yourself out of your bed, wobble once before regaining your balance, and make your way to the hall. Your hands shake as you grab the handle and slowly open the door.

The sight of James, of the worry on his face, makes your eyes well up with tears.

"Oh, honey..." James murmurs, gathering you into his arms with any further questions. His heart aches as you start crying. "Shh, it's okay."

"I'm sorry for giving up on us." You mumble into his chest. You don't even know if he has heard you.

James shakes his head even though you can't see it.

"No. It was all my fault. I messed up." James admits. "But I'm gonna fix it."

"James..."

"Shh. Let's go sit down, yeah?"

James keeps your hand in his as you go to the living room. He sits down on the couch and you lie down, resting your head on his lap. James starts caressing your hair and you finally, after a very long week of worrying and being tense, relax.

"How far along?" James asks quietly as he runs his fingers through a particularly tangled part of your hair. You sigh.

"Ten weeks, so third month."

James hums in acknowledgement. You close your eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of what has happened in the past three months. James notices it, but doesn't really know what to do with this. He feels overwhelmed, too – and mad at himself for not trying harder when he still had the chance.

"So..." James hesitates for a moment. "You were already pregnant when you...broke up with me."

"Mhm. But I was just three weeks pregnant."

For the lack of better answer, James hums again. Your hand finds his. He squeezes your fingers reassuringly.

He prompts. "When did you find out?"

"A month ago."

James' heart sinks. You've known for so long and you didn't tell him? He understands it, at least he thinks he does, but it doesn't make it any easier to stomach. He wishes he knew, that he was there earlier to help you.

James decides to ask. "Why haven't you call me earlier?"

"Would you've come if I had?"

James is quick to answer.

"Of course. I got you pregnant, Y/N. I'm his or hers...dad. I wouldn't just leave you like that."

Despite all the grudges and hard feelings between you, you trust him. James has never been cruel or vicious – you know he would have come if you only had called.

But that's water under the bridge now.

What is important now is what next. What are you going to do with your pregnancy, with your child.

You break the silence. "James?"

James perks up at the sound of your voice. His hand, which was previously in your hair, has wandered down to your cheek, now mindlessly circling your skin. "Yeah?"

"I missed you." You confess.

James' gulp is very audible in the quiet room. His breathing speeds up, just a little, and so does yours. You feel tense and uncomfortable, like you've said something wrong or completely immoral – or maybe it's just your hormones acting up.

Silence stretches for a moment longer before James finally answers.

"I missed you, too, honey." It's accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hand and you can feel yourself relax. James is careful and a bit unsure as he asks. "What are we going to do now?"

"Can we try again?"

"I'd like that." James says, weirdly vulnerable. A wave of love for him washes over you. "I'm sorry for being a shitty partner."

You whisper. "I'm sorry for leaving."

"You had every right to leave, Y/N." James says seriously.

"Or maybe i should've fought harder. I don't know, Jamie. Does it really matter?"

"I guess it doesn't." James murmurs. His hand is now on your collarbone, drawing random patterns on your skin. "But I'll be better. For you and for him. Or her."

You nod. "I don't doubt that, James."

────୨ৎ────

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

I wrote it while waiting for a doctor's appointment lol. Also, no title because i can't think of anything 😭

────୨ৎ────

"Can you calm your baby down?" A thick, not so kind voice says behind your back. "My head is pounding from all this crying and screaming."

You tense, and so does your baby when she feels your arms tightening around her small body. You glance behind your shoulder, just to be met with an annoyed expression on an older's man face. He's holding onto his injured hand. The white bandage wrapped around it is already soaked with blood.

"I'm trying." You reply, trying your best to sound kind despite the frustration shimmering inside of you. "But she's sick. I can't just magically heal her."

"I don't care what you can and what you can't." The man snaps. Murmurs of other people follow, but no one tries to help you out or defend you. "Just shut her up. That's all I'm asking."

You close your eyes and start counting your breaths.

One, two, three, four...

Your baby is still fussing, her forehead hot and sweaty where it rests against your shoulder. Her small fists are clenched around your cardigan, her body practically limp in your arms, exhausted from the flu.

"For Christ's sake." The man curses.

You don't have time to react before he raises from his seat, droplets of blood staining the white floor, and stands right in front of you, with fists clenched and fuming with unreasonable anger.

"Shut your baby up. Right now."

You step back, but he only gets closer. His hand, the healthy one, raises and for a second you're scared he'll hit you or your baby.

But then, you feel a familiar weight of Remus' hand on your shoulder. "Not only your hand will bleed if you keep talking to my wife like that."

A look of uncertainty crosses older man's face. He steps back and lowers his arm.

"Sorry, mate. I didn't know she was here with you." He says.

Remus doesn't back down. "Even if she was here all alone, you have no right to threaten a woman, any woman, especially not when she is with a baby. Have some bloody respect."

"Chill, mate." The man smirks. "I wasn't threatening your wife."

Remus presses his lips together. "Sure you weren't. You were just casually invading her personal space, am i right?"

"Listen, you're exaggerating this whole situation. Nothing bad happened. We were just talking, right, sweetie?"

You grimace at the pet name that comes out of his mouth. You step back once again, wanting to create some distance between you and him. Remus' hand wraps protectively around your waist and he brings you closer to him. Luna, your baby, reaches for him and Remus kisses her forehead, which helps her settle down a little.

Then, his gaze moves back to the man.

"Go or God help me, i'll make you bleed more than you already do."

Suprisingly, the man complies. Or so you think he does.

He steps aside, huffing and muttering under his breath, but before he walks back to his seat, he decides to add his two cents.

"Cunt."

Wrong move. Safe to say, it's Remus' last straw.

Before you or anyone in the waiting room can react, Remus' hand lands on the man's face. The sound of a nose breaking resonates through the room and blood, hot and crimson, stars flowing down the man's front, staining both his shirt and trousers.

You gasp, and so does everyone else, including the rude man. Tense silence falls in the room. Everyone seem to hold their breath in anticipation. Luna wiggles in your arms, confused as to why is it so silent out of sudden, but you press her closer to your chest and back away from the source of commotion.

"Call my wife like this one more time, and you're dead." Remus spits out. There's furry in his eyes and you swear he doesn't look like himself. "I swear you are."

Then, Remus turns to you and grabs your hand. Gently, but firmly, he starts steering you out of the waiting room. Your daughter begins to cry in distress.

You protest. "But we need to see the doctor..."

Remus interrupts. "I'll find Luna another doctor, don't you worry."

────୨ৎ────

Soft music played on the speakers through the small cafe. The current song merged with the pattering rain from outside, creating a soothing atmosphere.

You sat on the comfortable seats, beside the raindrop covered window. You were glad you entered the cafe before the weather had switched up so harshly.

Every now and then a customer would enter the cafe, the biting cold from the miserable day would rush into the warm room for a brief moment. Your short sleeves doing very little against the cold breeze, but the steaming coffee kept your hands warm.

The rain poured heavily down on the town street, dark grey clouds covered the once blue sky. After the room had warmed back up from the intrusion of the last customer, the door opened again.

A drenched dark haired man quickly entered, shutting the door behind him. His black leather jacket dripped rainwater onto the floor as he walked towards the counter with a wide grin.

He stood leaned against the counter as he waited for his drink, chatting charmingly to the barista with an easy smile despite his soaked state.

The man took his coffee and walked through the cafe like he'd paced the building before. His grey eyes scanned the room and locked onto yours. His smile made the corner of his eyes crinkle, and you saw the slightest dip of a dimple on his cheek.

"Hi there, do you mind?" He tilted his head towards the seat opposite you.

You flashed him a polite smile. "No, no of course" You waved your hand towards the seat, sitting up from your relaxed posture.

"Thanks..." He trailed off and you answered your name with a smile.

"Sirius. Lovely to meet you" He introduced as he placed his coffee down on the small wooden between you both.

He ran a hand through his long hair, a few droplets of water fell onto his dark shirt beneath his jacket. Your gaze flickered over his beautifully symmetrical face and silently wondered what a guy like him was doing in such a boring town like this one.

His nose twitched and his eyes darted to yours. "Sweet pea." He said, without explanation and you furrowed your brows.

"Uh- What?" You asked, leaned back in your seat, eyeing him somewhat cautiously.

"Sorry, sorry. You- You smell like sweet peas." He answered with a smile, like he knew he sounded strange but still didn't further explain.

"Oh, it's my perfume, are- are you allergic?" You shuffled back in your seat a bit more, worried you might kill the attractive man.

"No. I've just never met a girl who smelt as sweet as you" He flashed you a smile and you scrunched your nose up.

"You're really weird" You admitted without thinking and Sirius laughed loudly, throwing his head back without a care.

You couldn't help it but the sight of his unabashed laughter and his mumbled agreement made a smile grow on your lips.

Brushing off the awkward beginning to your conversation, you both sat in the warm cozy cafe for much longer than either of you originally meant to.

Remus takes your book and places a bookmark in it for you. "He's right y'know." He says putting it on the nightstand and moving into a laying down position.

He opens his arms and invites you to lay on him. You accept and lay in his arms. Regulus sits on the other side of the bed reading. He'd never really been a huge fan of cuddles but when you flashed your pitiful, wide, sick eyes at him he felt that it'd only be right for him to give you what you wanted.

You fell asleep laying on Remus's chest, holding regulus close to your own.

***

You wake up with just Remus next to you. However your questions are answered when regulus walks through the door with three cups of tea in hand.

**"did you manage to sleep a bit?"** He asks.

**"yeah, weird dreams though"** you reply.

"yeah? Like what?" Remus queries.

"I was a cat." You start. "Then I saw a squirrel and morphed into a dog, then a horse."

"that is strange" Remus says.

"I know. I had another one where I came home and the two of you were crabs. That was odd."

"the fever must be making you delirious" regulus says sarcastically before leaving the room to get you some more medicine.

"probably" you mumble, laying back down onto Remus's chest.

"still tired?" He asks.

"mhm" you hum, eyes drooping closed. This was interrupted by regulus walking back into the room with medicine and water for you.

He hands it to you and watches you expectantly.

"go on" he coaxes you.

You just look at him then Remus with a look that says 'i don't want to, I'm tired'.

"it's ok dove. The medicine will hopefully make your fever go down. And with any extra luck, make your dreams less weird." He jokes which causes you to have the medicine.

After that, it doesn't take you much longer to fall back asleep with both of your boys with you. Remus' chest underneath your head and Regulus' arms snaked around your waist. Being sick wasn't so bad when they were there looking after you, no doting on you every second of the day.

-------------------------------------------------------

"i'm not going to break if you touch me y'know." he says, not angrily, just defeated.

"i know. i just don't want to overstep."

"don't worry about that, all i need right now is you." he says shuffling over to you and resting his head on your lap.

You don't say anything to him as your hand moves to start gliding through his hair. He doesn't say anything either, just hums in satisfaction after feeling the contact.

The two of you don't say anything else to each other for the rest of the night. You end up falling asleep like that, you sat upright and his head in your lap as he laid on the sofa.

***

The next morning you wake up to the sound of giggling and see james looking at the two of you, a camera in his hand. Sirius wakes up not long after to you whispering threats to james and james trying not to laugh whilst saying something about how peter and remus would love to see this.

He sits up and groggily rubs his eyes trying to figure out what was going on between his girlfriend and best friend.

"ah the sleeping beauty is awake!" james says drawing your attention to sirius so that he has enough time to hide his camera.

"morning siri" you mumble "you ok?"

"yeah fine.. what's going on?"

"nothing, just james being a prick again."

"nothing new then?" he jokes causing you to smile and james to look offended.

"no, absolutely nothing new about that." you reply, stating off yet another squabble between you and your brother despite the time only being 9 am.

The warmth, cosiness and noise of the potter household was a stark contrast to how cold and silent the black household was. However for sirius it was a very welcome one that he would happily get used to, espeacially because that meant living away from his horrible family and instead living with his girlfriend and best friend.

banner by strangergraphics

thanks for the request, sorry it's a little bit short

"sorry..."

"seriously."

After a moment of silence between you both, he asks the question that he'd been meaning to for a while now.

"Why'd you do it?"

"do what?"

"apologise constantly"

"don't know"

"you do"

"I just- feel so bad over such little things. Like I have to apologise or people will think I'm rude or impolite."

"nobody thinks that amour.." he reassures "especially not me, or our friends. You know them, they're the most rowdy people and you dont see them apologising for it. Why should you?"

"s-"

"no" he says smiling slightly and putting his finger over your lips.

He slowly removes his finger and before you can try to speak again he connects his lips with yours. Softly, slowly and gently.

When he pulls away he looks at your blushing cheeks.

"stop apologising alright?"

"yeah."

Banner by strangergraphics

Hope this is good :)

About 15 minutes later they still hadn't come in. That was odd, usually regulus would come straight away. You decide to go and investigate.

You leave the kitchen and turn the corner to enter the living room. When you do you can't help but laugh.

Regulus is sat in the middle of the carpet, Luna Infront of him, sticking different coloured stickers all over his face and body.

"aww Luna you've made Reggie all pretty." You coo at them both.

Regulus frowns at you playfully when you take out your phone to capture this moment in a photograph. You smile as you playfully chide then for not going to get their food before it got cold.

Luna gets up and her little legs run towards the kitchen. Regulus gets up to start trailing behind her but before he can go too far, you pull him in for a quick kiss.

***

Regulus sits and eats his food covered in stickers. He helps wash the dishes covered in stickers. He watches tv covered in stickers. He nearly goes to bed covered in stickers.

If you didn't know him well, you'd assume he'd forgotten about them. However, you knew how sentimental regulus was. He did all those things covered in stickers because Luna put them there and he adored Luna as If she was his own daughter.

Maybe he felt that way because of who Luna reminded him of.

You know that if she'd have been here still, she would've howled with laughter at that photo you took of regulus, maybe one day (when she's older) Luna will too..

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Thank you for reading please feel free to send any requests:)

He actually loves ballet, he thinks it's really artistic and elegant.

He brings you bunches of flowers after your shows.

He most definitely brags to his friends about his pretty dancer girlfriend and always invites them to come and watch with him.

He's extremely supportive but not in a loud "that's my girlfriend" way. It's more of a "I'm prouder of you than you'll ever know" kind of way. He doesn't need to be loud about it, you just know and he makes sure you do.

Loves to get you new expensive equipment as gifts.

He would love looking at photos of you as a kid doing ballet as your parents would have a whole photo album of them to show him.

I feel like he and Sirius were probably forced to do dance as kids so he'd understand if your feet/legs hurt after a show.

Leading on from that I think he'd always be looking for new things to help soothe the aches or pains.

He would love going to watch you practice.

He always hypes up your new show outfits and he probably helps choose them too.

If you do competitions he would be so proud even if you came last.

-------------------------------------------------------

The urge to go out the window gets louder. You twist the lock on the door before you can act on it.

Sirius pushes the door open. In the moment when it's cracked, sound from the bar pours in, overlapping voices of varying tones. Nerves tighten your throat before Sirius shuts the door swiftly and locks it behind him.

"Hey." He greets you with a kiss, as though he's only just come to visit you in the toilets for fun. His thumb strokes your cheek, cold rag pressing to your stomach. "How's your hand? Can I see?"

You hold it up for him. Sirius doesn't comment on how it shakes, frowning as he takes it into his own and holds the rag gently on top. The cold edges of ice dig into your knuckles through the terry cloth.

"Does it hurt?" Sirius looks up at you. You keep your eyes on your hand. "Remus said sometimes people can break their little fingers from a punch like that."

"I think it's fine," you mumble.

"Yeah?" He begins feeling up the length of your hand anyway, gentle little presses with his fingertips, like you're something to be treated with care. Satisfied, he squeezes the end of your pinkie fondly. "How are you doing, lovely girl?"

Your mouth curls in on itself. "I don't think it's me you should be asking about."

"No? Why not?"

"I'm not the one who got hit."

There's a pause. You hold your breath again. It feels like you're bracing for a blow, except you're the one who deals those out, apparently.

"That did surprise me," Sirius admits.

He doesn't need to tell you that. You knew already. You have a sharp memory of Sirius' face, eyes gone wide and lips parted on a silent gasp, the sight of it like having a bucket of cold water thrown over you as you realized what you'd done. Even in that first moment of clarity, when the heat of wrath still lingered at the edges of you and your hand didn't hurt a lick, your regret wasn't for what had happened, but for how many people had seen you in that state.

Your voice now is weak, tremulous. "I'm sorry. James is your friend, and I guess he just seems too nice for someone to be mean to…"

"Well, yeah," says Sirius, "but, I don't know if you've noticed, James is a fairly big guy. He can handle himself."

You nod and look at the floor. Whatever this thing you had been feeling out with Sirius, you think it's done now. He's kind to come end things in person, but you sort of wish he'd just let you go out the window.

"It's sweet that you still wanted to stick up for him, though."

You blink up at him. Sirius' mouth lifts on one side.

"Anyway, I'm not going to track down the guy you hit and ask how he's doing," he says, thumb stroking the side of your hand. "First because it'd be totally disingenuous—I don't care at all how that prick is—and second because I'd much rather be here with you."

You stare at him. "Sweet?"

Sirius shrugs. "Maybe not in the conventional sense, but yeah. I thought it was sweet. Rather hot as well."

You think you must look cartoonishly shocked. Sirius laughs, and it's the sound of it that makes you feel sure he's telling the truth. Full and warm.

"Is it weird that I found it hot?" he asks genuinely.

You struggle with speech for a moment. "Is it weird for you?"

"I don't know" Sirius leans closer. His lips brush the edge of your jaw. "I think lots of stuff you do is hot. It's not really out of the ordinary."

Deliriously, you find yourself fighting a smile. "I'm alright with it if you are."

But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead. 

“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before. 

James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?” 

“Everywhere.” 

“By your eyes?” 

“No.” 

He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?” 

“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.” 

“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels. 

James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.

“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus. 

“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.” 

“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up. 

You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. 

“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained. 

You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.” 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now. 

“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?” 

“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his boyfriend’s heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now. 

“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.” 

“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.” 

You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.” 

It wasn’t as clean or as swift as his parents recalled it to be. Sirius hadn’t been sorted into Gryffindor and suddenly he was brotherless. Sirius still wrote to him, sharing all of his adventures and discoveries. Sirius still returned home in the holidays, resuming the space he’d left empty for months. 

However, the cracks began to turn to ravines when Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. Arguments grew between them like weeds in a garden, without hesitance and too proudly to be denied. Some days the fighting was over trivial things, others it was too personal to ever repeat again.

But each word landed the same despite the subject, vicious words with underlying pain that neither of them addressed.

The brother Regulus had known, attentive and kind was gone, replaced with a cruel and mocking one. But Sirius was still there, the routine had changed but the movement hadn’t.

Like he’d memorized a dance only to have to dance it in reverse. Regulus’ eyes still flickered down the hall, seeing Sirius’ harsh glare at him and his friends. Sirius still appeared out from every corner, but passed him with nothing but an insult.

And when Sirius would return home, he kept himself locked inside his room like a prisoner, as if their home was nothing more than a jail for him to wait out his days. 

Regulus had adapted, he had learnt the new dance they had molded over the years with weighted burden and a stiff lip. But once again, Sirius slipped away. For good and forever.

Sirius, running off to the Potters, had blindsided Regulus more than he’d ever dare to admit. Even in their shared anger, Sirius had been a constant in Regulus’ life. And now, even that was gone too. Like a crutch that’d slipped out of his reach before he’d even had time to crash to the ground.

A crutch that Regulus hadn’t realised he relied on.

From then, Regulus kept to himself, keeping his head down and doing as he was told. It was numbing, hollow and un-fullfilling. But Regulus stuck to it throughout the years.

The repetitive cycle of life was the only thing he was able to maintain. Day after day continued the same as the last. Regulus would’ve drowned in the mundane of it all if he could have. 

But when his parents arranged a marriage for him, something lost inside of him ignited. For the first time since he was a small boy, Regulus denied his parents, demanding not to be wed to a stranger.

A shame, to the brave Slytherin boy, his parents didn’t listen and made sure he knew they weren’t asking but demanding it of him to fulfill his duty as heir.

With swallowed resentment Regulus married the woman. She was beautiful by all standards, in another world he would’ve been lucky. But in this world, he certainly didn’t feel it.

Months had passed after their extravagant wedding and she had fallen pregnant. Regulus dreaded it. The congratulations, the planning, the realization of parenthood, he despised it all.

He did not mention it, but he noticed the way his wife talked less and less of the baby around him. Indulging in lies was never a specialty of his, and his eyes spoke of his disinterest for him.

In his wife’s last term she grew uncomfortable, the baby grew restless and more painful with each new day. He grew sick thinking of the baby, small and fragile inside of her. He was barely able to listen to his wife speak of it without growing nauseous.

But one day, in the early days of spring, Regulus returned home from work, finding healers in his home. He knew his mother had paid for the best in the wizarding world, but they were weeks early. 

They spoke fast with sorrow on their lips. Regulus’ head spun but he gathered the words they were saying. The baby’s born. Your wife is dead. Here, hold your daughter.

It was an absurd sight. A small wriggling baby was handed to him. He assumed the healers thought his pained expression was grief, it wasn't. Deep down Regulus knew he was holding the baby wrong but no one dared to correct him, internally he wished someone would speak up, that someone would help him. Instead he merely cradled the baby closer to his chest.

He failed to understand why the sight of a daughter was easier than a son, but his simmering hatred burned brighter but not directed at the baby he didn’t have a name for, but for himself. For failing himself, and without a doubt for eventually failing his child.

It ached in a strange healing kind of way, to see someone so small look up at you like you hold the entire world. It took time, but Regulus swore to never disappear on her like so many had to him.

Regulus promised in the midnight air, as his daughter slept on winter night, that he wouldn’t fail her. He would be the foundation of her life, as solid as a castle, crumpled, imperfect, but standing tall and unmovable.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t replied to Sirius’ letter yet.

The invitation glared up at him from his desk and despite his mind knowing better than his heart, it yearned painfully. The invitation was informal, hastily written and so undeniably Sirius. Regulus sighed, his brother really hadn’t changed, even after all this time.

A summertime gathering is what Sirius called it, at the beach near his house he’d written. He wanted his friends to meet his niece. A part of Regulus wondered if Sirius realised he’d unintentionally called him his brother again. There was an additional scribble at the bottom of the letter, insisting they come as if Sirius knew Regulus wanted to refuse.

Carefully, quietly and precisely Regulus folded the letter. His fingers itched to reply, a dozen questions he’d demand to be answered. But instead he hesitated.

Sitting alone in his study, he placed the folded letter down on his desk and let the moment linger. Despite what his friends thought, Regulus didn’t hate his brother, not truly. A small part of him will forever be that small boy waiting at the edge of his bed during a storm for his older brother to brighten up the room for him. It felt like pushing a lid on an overfilled bucket, too much feeling the more you tried to push it down.

Regulus’ hand twitched, his silver eyes locked on the horribly scribbled parchment. His mind raced as the distant noise of his daughter's laughter echoed in the hallway.

What if Sirius left again? Regulus’ heart could take a thousand more blades, with a numb mind and indifferent facade. But his daughter, his sweet girl? Regulus would never want to put her through that. And so, once more Regulus hesitated. 

Suddenly the door to his study opened, and that familiar small figure entered without the hesitance he once had entering his own fathers study. Turning around in his chair, Regulus welcomed the sight of his daughter with a tired yet unabashed smile.

Her shoes clicked against the polished wooden floors as she walked over to him. “Busy?” She asked, holding his chair’s wooden arms to lift herself up, looking onto his wide desk.

His chair wobbled ever so slightly. Regulus shook his head with a delicate smile, muttering a quiet “No. Not at all.”

“What are you doing?” Her eyes lingering on the stack of opened letters he’d previously opened. Regulus swore she’d end up in Ravenclaw, and shockingly the thought didn’t upset him. After all, she’d always loved the colour blue.

He half-shurgged, as she freely shuffled through the papers scattered on his desk. “I was answering letters. Not too exciting I’m afraid.”

“Nothing at all?” A pout sprang onto her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and unbelieving. He briefly mourned the naivety of youth for not understanding how a stack of letters couldn’t hold another than his boss’ reminders and pureblood families updates. 

His eyes drifted to the single letter left on its own. His head tilted slightly as he hummed. “Well. I suppose there was one letter from my brother. Do you remember him? The-”

“-Dog star?” She finished for him, interrupting his unneeded recount of their prior meeting a couple months back. Ravenclaw indeed, Regulus thought to himself. Regulus huffed, hiding his laugh. “Yes. The dog-star. That’s right.”

“What did he say?” Her head tilted in a similar manner to his, the sight alone caused furrowed expression to melt.

“Oh, he spoke of the weather.” Regulus waved his hand idly but the burden of worry seeped through his voice. “And of work.”

He internally winced at his poor attempt, the mild white-lie tasted horrible off his lips. By the way his daughter narrowed her soft eyes at him, she didn’t believe him either.

Relenting quicker than he ought to, Regulus sighed. “And, he invited us to the beach. For a gathering of some kind. An informal family event, I suppose.” The words lingered on his tongue sourly as his lips bent to hint at the frown trying to break free.

His daughter’s eyes merely widened, her voice full of wonder. “He owns a beach?”

“No. He lives near one, though.” He gently corrected, as his fingers tapped unconsciously against his arm rest in an anxious mannerism he thought he’d rid himself of in his youth.

“Oh” She nodded in understanding, as if she’d rewritten her entire understanding of the world based on his simple words. 

Regulus watched as her eyes peered over to the letters before turning herself towards him. “Can we go?”

The simple question filled with childlike excitement squeezed his heart uncomfortably. Regulus hesitated, but looking down into eyes so alike his own, he caved. “Do you want to go?”

She paused for a moment. Regulus knew she didn’t understand the weight of his question but for a moment he could pretend she did. His daughter nodded with an expression that made her look more like a grumpy puppy than anything truly serious.

“With you.”

Breathless, Regulus nodded. “Yes. With me.” He said finally, when his words finally returned to him.

The room settled in a comfortable silence, both parties seemingly tired with the difficult decision. But the single understanding washed over Regulus like a tidal wave.

Even if Sirius were to come and go from their lives, as recklessly as he does, Regulus would be there. He would always be there for her. 

And so, Regulus reached across the desk, grabbing a blank paper. He placed it in front of himself before lifting up his daughter, placing her on his lap.

Regulus stood from his chair, closing the door as she walked further into his office.

"What's all this?" Regulus asked and hid a wince as she dropped her armful of things onto his desk with a thud.

Various coloured paper and crayons covered his work, he briefly closed his eyes and could only hope nothing spilled onto his reports.

"I'm here to help, papa" She explained like it was obvious, placing her crayons beside his expensive quills his father had bought him, that he barely used.

"Oh? My little helper" He raised an eyebrow with a smile and she nodded very seriously.

Regulus settled back into his chair, lifting his small daughter onto his lap allowing her to reach her papers properly. He carefully sorted between his reports and the colorful papers and placed each stack beside each other.

Despite his raging migraine still lingering and the writing speed decreased due to the humming coming from beside him. Regulus sat in his office, with his daughter, finishing off their work together.

And unlike his work that was swiftly sent off to his boss once finished, his daughter's work comprised of scribbles and badly drawn butterflies was hung on the wall above his desk.

ii.

"What's that one, papa?" His daughter asked, lifting her hand up towards the starry sky. Regulus tilted his head towards her to see where she was pointing.

"That one's Cassiopeia, see how it looks like the letter 'M'" He explained and she tilted her head and giggled.

"Or a 'W'" She waved her hand around in the air in a 'W' motion. Regulus smiled.

"What about that one?" She asked again, pointing to another collection of stars.

Regulus' smile threatened to fall but he pushed it away at the happy look on his daughter's face.

"That's Canis Major, but the brightest star, right there, is Sirius." He held her outstretched hand and pointed it towards the star that shone more brightly than the rest.

"It looks like a dog" She mumbled, yawning into her hand.

"It does. It's known as the dog star." He glanced down at her and saw the tiredness growing on her.

"C'mon love, let's get you to bed" Regulus stood from the grassy backyard.

He lifted his daughter up and carried her into the warm manor with the promise of showing her the star tomorrow night.

iii.

"Bingy? Have you seen my grey shirt?" Regulus called out to their house elf who immediately appeared behind him.

"Unfortunately Bingy has, Master Regulus." The house elf kept her head bowed.

Regulus waved in hands in confusion. He opened his mouth to question the elf but stopped abruptly when giggles rang through the hallway.

Bingy met Regulus' eyes, making him nod with a smile. He stepped out in the hallway and saw his daughter swimming in his clothes that were far too big for her.

"I didn't realize I was raising a thief" He smirked with his arms crossed, making his daughter's head snap towards him.

"Papa! I'm you!" She exclaimed with another fit of giggles.

She walked towards him, as best she could with the amount of fabric in her way. As she made her way towards him he saw a flash of ink beneath his jacket's sleeve that had ridden up to her wrist.

A frown threatened to tug at his lips as he knelt in front of the pool of fabric his daughter was hiding under. He gently pushed the sleeve up and saw the messy black ink she'd doodled on her arm.

"What's this?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed hard, knowing exactly what she'd intended it to be. His left arm phantomly burned.

His daughter tilted her head innocently, completely unaware of the meaning. "I'm you!" She repeated, with a smile.

Regulus shook his head lightly. "You don't want this" His voice broke making his daughter's lip wobbly. He knew she didn't understand, but she knew he wasn't as excited as she'd thought he'd be.

He delicately wiped the black ink from her arm, staining his own hand. Which made his jaw clench at the ironic symbolism. "It's ugly, and mean. A bad mistake."

Tears welled in the corner of his daughter's similar grey eyes and his heart softened despite the panic that clung to it. He gently pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"How about we make something better?" He asked, gaining her curiosity. "Something nicer, with a bit of colour?" Her eyes flickered between him and the wooden floor.

"With a butterfly?" She whispered and he nodded, brushing away her hair from her face.

"Of course" He nodded, standing up and leading her to her bedroom where her ink pots were open and hazardously placed on her small desk.

He knelt beside her and carefully began drawing her butterfly and hearts exactly as she wanted. After a few moments of waiting for the ink to dry she reached for the ink pots.

"Your turn, papa!" She cheered excitedly and Regulus swallowed harshly as she covered his dark mark with colorful doodles.

"Thank you, love." He whispered with a heavy heart.

iv.

Regulus sat in his living room, a steaming coffee on the table beside him and a new book in his hands. The sound of pattering footsteps pulled him from his novel.

Whatever state he thought he'd see his daughter in, seeing her with tears streaming down her face wasn't one of them. His brows furrowed together as he discarded his book instantly.

Before he could question her, she darted across the room towards him, settling on his lap burying her head into his chest. Sniffles echoed over the room as he held her, gently rocking her back and forth.

"Love, what's wrong?" He quietly asked, rubbing her back.

"I had a bad dream" She mumbled, in between broken sobs.

Regulus calmed that she wasn't hurt by anything, but held her close nonetheless.

He muttered soft words in her ear that made her sniffles slowly cease. The realization waved over him as she relaxed against him, that she'd come to him for safety, for love.

He held her for as long as she needed to drift back to sleep, not caring that his book's pages were now crumbled against the couch, or that his coffee had gone cold.

All that mattered was that he held his daughter so she knew everything was alright.

v.

Regulus felt his heart drop. He looked across the busy street of Diagon Alley and saw none other than Sirius. His jaw tightened as he saw the figure of his once brother approach him.

It was odd, Sirius still looked like himself. He had his long dark hair and familiar grey eyes. But he'd grown a stubble beard and he looked older than he did the last time they'd seen each other. Regulus never really thought about it but he assumed he must look different too.

Sirius stopped in front of him, keeping a bit of distance between them. Regulus' jaw tightened as Sirius seemingly didn't know what to say.

"Sirius" Regulus said plainly, which made Sirius' eye twitch at the indifference in the tone of his voice.

"Dog" His daughter spoke up, apparently back from buying the candy she'd seen in the shop window.

Sirius' eyebrows rose as he turned towards the short girl. "Sirius is the dog star, right papa?" She asked, barely paying attention as he ripped open another packet of candy she'd bought.

"Yes, that's right, love" Whatever facade and resolve Regulus had in front of his brother crumpled around his daughter.

His daughter outstretched the packet towards Sirius "Want one, dog star?" She asked with a mouth full of candy.

Regulus peered down at her "Don't call people dogs, love" She nodded at his words, muttering an apology.

"'s alright. Been called worse" Sirius smirked lightly, taking one of the candy from the box.

Regulus shook his head slightly, and pulled out another couple coins. He handed them to her and pointed towards another store she'd wanted to go to. His daughter lit up with excitement and practically shoved the candy box into his hands as she ran off towards the next store.

Sirius watched as the young girl rushed off. "Didn't know you had a daughter" He muttered under his breath.

Regulus nodded slowly, not wanting to point out the obvious. He would've known if things were different. If both of their actions and choices were different.

"Where's- Uh" Sirius' hand waved towards where his daughter had been.

"It's just me. Me and her." Regulus responded without much context, he didn't want to trudge up old drama that meant nothing anymore.

Sirius' brow furrowed together and sighed. "Th- Wow, Reg. That's a lot"

Regulus shrugged. His daughter was the best kid he could've wished for. "She's a good kid"

Sirius eyed him, going silent for a moment before a small smile etched onto his face. "You're a good father."

Regulus never thought he'd be a father in the first place, let alone a good one. But it was easier than he'd ever thought. It wasn't like his studies, or his friendships, or like his relationship with his family. No, it came to him as easy as breathing. He saw his daughter, with his eyes and a need for someone to protect and love her. And everything just clicked.

"'S not hard to be. Not when you love them" Regulus rebutted which slightly stunned Sirius but after a moment he gathered his wits back and muttered his address to owl him a letter sometime.

Regulus swallowed hard but nodded and watched as Sirius walked off, getting lost in the busy street.

"Papa! Look what I got" His daughter's voice pulled him from his complicated thoughts. A smile grew on his face seeing the box of butterfly string lights she'd bought.