#wolfstar as cute uncles because. pls

[apalapucian]

green light (2024 ver.)

an: old fic rewrite; the war is over, everybody lives AU. (well, not everybody everybody, but the potter family + sirius + remus + even peter* live.) entire fic under the cut. also on ao3 (better formatted there lol). * = you'll see.

—

1982

saying certain names out loud still hurts, so they don't.

they wake up early. a nervous hush settles in the whole house, the kind they thought has gone over the past year, but — well, it is october 31st. it's bound to return. not to haunt them, exactly. just remind them maybe. that they ought to stop a bit. commemorate. they owe it to their friends. they owe it to — frank and alice.

frank and alice. water beats down james's bare back and he leans a hand against the tiled wall before him, the other reaching up to massage his nape. he breathes deep slow breaths through his mouth, watches rivulets chase each other on the floor. thinks, what does it take to wash all the guilt away? frank and alice, frank and alice...

he steps out of the shower and stares his reflection down in the bathroom mirror. frank and alice.

yeah. still stings.

he holds lily's hand under the table throughout breakfast, and lily smiles — soft, fond, if a bit incredulous — at his one-handed attempt to eat.

it's still dark when they step out. they don't leave harry. they can't.

they apparate before old rusty gates, harry's tiny fists balling up and clutching james's shirt at the racket, but otherwise staying asleep in his father's arms. he looks so calm, their harry, so content in slumber. james strokes his hair and kisses the top of his head. he's sorry for everything else, he really is. but he's not sorry that harry's here, safe and close and breathing against his chest.

the graves look new. augusta, james guesses with a pang. lily stoops down to press a hand over alice's name, brushing away a stray leaf. they don't say anything. lily sniffs, and james puts his free arm around her.

the walk back out is better, lighter. lily's hand is no longer dawn-cold. harry stirs again, his usual wake-up time now, opening his eyes at the sound of the gates creaking close. for a moment it seems like he's going to cry, but the sun breaks over the horizon, and in awe he watches the light spill onto the dewy graveyard over james's shoulder.

—

1983

james is asleep, and lily rolls over to her other side to stare at the window. it's a wider window, and there's a different tree silhouetted against the dark, an unfamiliar picture framed in the night-dimmed white wood. the insects are quieter here, and the stars are... hmm. shier. although it might just be the weather, of course. the lone desk in the room is devoid of her potion books, of her research notes. no quidditch posters are tacked on the walls. no gryffindor things. the shelves, too. the list goes on and on, a disorderly parade of bullet points going too fast, so fast that even james's quiet breaths from behind her can't catch up and calm her down this time: the floors creak in different places. the staircase is longer, wider — not by much, still nothing to james's family house, but the difference is still stark. there is a patch of mildew in a corner of the kitchen ceiling. the cupboards are empty, two spare rooms are unfurnished, they need a new couch, maybe a coffee table, yellow roses in the garden...

she closes her eyes and sighs. for now, she reminds herself. mostly empty for now. and there's nothing wrong with that. there's nothing wrong with coming here, leaving godric's hollow. they needed this. she and james and harry. godric's hollow was home, but it was home during the war, and try as they all did to sweep away the remnants of battle from its corners, it stayed in the air and taunted them every time the house got too still, too quiet. echoes of terrible midnight news lingered, and the constant attacks of... of uncertainty, of terror still. god, the terror. of being shut up forever. of getting fucking murdered when they step out. of losing everything at any given second.

they needed this. this is right. it will be a better home.

a short, stuttering creak cuts through the silence, startling lily's thoughts. she turns, and harry is in the doorway. (they leave the door open so they can hear the house and harry, a habit they haven't shaken yet.) in the dim room, lit only by what little light spills in through the window, lily makes out her son's furrowed brows and the jutted-out bottom lip.

she raises a hand to beckon him in, but before she can speak, james says, "hey, mate," without any indication of having been sleeping at all.

she sits up to survey her husband in surprise, but his currently specs-less eyes are fixed, squinting, on harry, who shuffles into the room feet bare and glasses askew and hair a mirror of the same storm on his father's head. he stops at the foot of the bed and says in his tired little voice, "can i sleep here?"

"of course," says james, who's sat up now as well. "d'you want us to go to your room then?"

"daaadddd," groans harry, and james laughs, and he and lily scoot to the sides so harry can cuddle in between them. the pillows are righted and the sheets are pulled up to harry's chin. his glasses are laid beside james's on the bedside table.

"okay, i think i can sleep now," says harry, eyes already closed.

they all go silent then, james and lily just staring at each other in the dark over their son; wearing the same content, worried, happy, tired, everything almost-smile.

james reaches out for lily's hand, tracing circles against her knuckles with his thumb. harry shifts a little beneath, mumbles, "all right, mum? daddy?"

and their almost-smiles crack into full sigh-smiles of relief; an exhale of happiness they didn't know they were holding in.

"yeah, we are."

"sweet dreams, harry."

—

1984

she wakes up late and james is not beside her when she does. her heart skips a beat, but the panic doesn't last long anymore, and she feels more sure of her steps and the floor and their presence here than she ever was.

three years. three whole years, and it's really, really gone, isn't it?

there are yellow roses on the kitchen table. a cup of coffee charmed to keep warm for a time. a scrawled "morning! :) –james & harry" on a scrap of paper, the torn bottom of a receipt for... milk, she finds. and strawberries. harry was signed by harry himself, and lily wants to cry at the shaky strokes, the crooked lines. she can hear them in the other room where james's window seat project is almost finished. harry is laughing. he asks questions, mocks his dad's shabby handiwork, drops the things he's asked to hand.

roses and handwritten notes and coffee and giggles nearby. this is her life now. she skims the flowers, the sun itself in her heart.

—

1985

"d'you think moony's okay?" sirius asks, sat all thoughtful and cross-legged on the counter, and james wonders if he realizes that this isn't the first time he's asked him this. not even the second time.

"dunno," says james, feigning distractedness. good thing it doesn't take much at the moment. he looks at his reference sheet for recipe number three, taped on the wall, barely making out his own handwriting. cooking without magic is such a hassle. but he's in charge of it this year, and — because he's a proud dumbo, an arrogant toerag — he asked lily and harry to get out of the house while he cooks up the greatest dinner of their lives, so that none of lily's interventions or harry's endless bouts of 'taste-testing' ruin it. yeah, he thinks, because he's ruining it on his own just fine, thank you. "hey, will you pass me that jar — no, not that — yes. thanks..."

silence. james glances at sirius without moving his head, and is filled with exasperation at the look on his face. he asks, "look, why don't you just owl him?"

"he might still be mad at me," says sirius, and the immediacy of his response is proof, yet again, of how much he's been thinking about this.

not that james hasn't been. it's just — moony needs it. he needs to be away and sulking or whatever right now. but he'll be back. james is sure. till then there's nothing to do but wait.

which sirius sucks at, apparently. "d'you think i shouldn't have said anything?" he asks.

james stalls by ticking off two more instructions, probably getting the measurements wrong, but what the hell. "i don't know," he answers eventually.

sirius rolls his eyes. "loads of help, you are."

he gets a puff of flour in the face for that. james didn't need to look at him to aim. he smirks when he hears him cough and swear.

and then, later, while sprinkling salt (that's definitely way too much salt than just the required 'pinch'), james adds, quietly, "no, i don't think so."

"huh?"

"i think it's good that you — " james repeats, but he is distracted, because he looks up and notices how clean sirius looks. james is like, marinade-smeared and flour-dusted all over. "you know," he starts, "you're no better help than harry around here. at least he doesn't ask stressful questions while i work."

"first of all, you're not working," sirius retorts. "you're — i don't know, bullshitting this. second of all," this he says with a hand held up to silence james, who was about to talk back, "so it does stress you out. i knew it. you were trying to be all cool about it but i knew."

"oh, shut up. of course it stresses me out, padfoot, you always stress me out. you're an extremely stressful person. and this is even especially stressful. you're my best friends. but — like i said, i don't think it."

"don't think what?"

"that you shouldn't have said anything. i think it's good that you told him. otherwise it would have been this big wedge between you two, and no one would like that. not me, not lily, not you two."

sirius frowns. "so you like that he's not talking to us?"

"he talks to me," james points out, "and lily."

sirius arches a brow at him.

"fine, i don't like that you two aren't talking. but you obviously still feel guilty. you're always so... polite. so careful around him. you don't think we don't notice? and that wouldn't change unless he forgives you, which would never happen if he didn't know you had an offense to begin with."

"yeah, well. now he knows, and he hates us."

"just you, mate."

"thank you, prongs."

james drops what he's doing. "of course he'd react this way! you did tell him you didn't trust him. that you thought — "

" — i thought he was the spy, yeah. but that was before, you know that. you know it, don't you?"

"i do know it, padfoot."

"now i know — for sure — that i can trust him with my..."

"your life?" james prompts, when sirius leaves the sentence hanging.

"well, no. i don't know. my motorcycle, maybe."

"same thing."

" — true."

they stare at each other; sirius drags his gaze away first to pull his god this is so stupid face. "why did i have to fucking tell him? it's long over. we're all okay now. i should just have kept it to myself. forever. god."

"stop beating yourself up. you — hm. you get a point for honesty from me."

"it wasn't even honesty. it wasn't like anyone asked."

"well, you were drunk. we all were a bit."

"i screwed up."

" — yes, you did."

sirius looks scandalized. "wow. you didn't even hesitate."

"i've already made two excuses for you and i'm this close to dumping this casserole over your head," says james. "let's give him a week, okay? no — three more days. if he still doesn't talk to you then, i'll talk to him. but let him stew for now, yeah?"

sirius sighs. he doesn't say yes or nod or anything, but james can tell when he concedes. they leave the topic at that, and sirius begins his three-day wait by finally jumping off the counter to help. he briefly surveys james's dish (or what atrocity has become of it), narrows his eyes at the godawful handwriting, and then thumps james on the head. "you forgot number four, master chef," he points out, jabbing a finger on his cheat sheet.

"oh goddamn it..."

—

1986

harry goes missing. sirius picks remus up from hogsmeade and they drive to the potters' on his motorcycle, sirius barging in before remus can knock.

"how long does it take you two to change?" sirius scolds james and lily, while they all rummage around harry's usual hiding places, finding nothing. "you got fucking distracted, didn't you? i swear to god — "

"he wishes," snaps lily. "he was being an idiot."

"oh i'm being an idiot — " begins james, but remus and sirius cut him off.

"you were arguing?"

they (that is to say remus) find harry in the cramped cupboard under the stairs. he fell asleep. with james's invisibility cloak, which he procured without the knowledge or permission of his parents, as it turns out, and honestly sirius doesn't know whether to be admonitory or proud about that, and is only glad that it's not his business to be either.

"i was only going to scare you," harry says, looking properly guilty. "but you took so long to come down! i fell asleep."

"you succeeded, mate," says remus. "we were all very scared."

"never ever disappear on us like that again," lily tells off harry, but she's hugging him so fiercely, and james is still raking his fingers through his hair, wild-eyed, but is now also looking at his wife and son like he's forgotten whatever petty fight held them up upstairs. as he should, really.

james kisses her long and hard on the doorstep before she leaves to meet some important guy for work or some other. remus, who's leaving with her as he's supposed to go back to hogwarts now that the problem's solved, rolls his eyes while he waits for the gross affair to finish. sirius is staying in the house with james. he fakes retching gestures at the conitnued kissing, making harry giggle.

later, in the living room, sirius and harry swap chocolate frog cards. james is in the kitchen, doing the dishes. in the late afternoon lull, harry softly confides to sirius that while waiting in his nook earlier, before he fell asleep, he thought his parents might never bother to try and find him anymore.

"nah, they'll always find you. did you see them? they were all — " he makes exaggerated expressions of anguish. harry laughs again.

"but i was 'sleep then. what if i wasn't? what if i'm just lost?"

"they'd still find you."

"even if i have the cloak?"

"why are you lost and wearing the cloak?"

"um. i dunno."

sirius nods solemnly. "even if you have the cloak."

"even if it was under aunt petunia's stairs?"

sirius laughs. "even if you were under my mum's stairs."

harry grimaces at that. and then, "uncle moony found me though," says harry.

"does it matter?" says sirius, rumpling harry's hair. then he gently rights his glasses. "he just beat your dad to it. and me. and your mum. but one of us is always, always going to find you... oh, look — " he fishes a card from his deck, trapping it between index and middle finger and then flicking it neatly towards harry's pile. "it's your granddad!"

the longer harry stares at it, the deeper the lines between his eyebrows get. "why is... um, my hair's not gonna be like that when i grow up, is it?"

—

1987

lily shifts in her seat so she can look miss cole square in the eye. beside her, james squeezes her hand, but she doesn't know if he's just being twitchy. "i just don't see how anyone can turn someone else's hair entirely blue," explains lily, "without the other's... ah, full participation."

"and eyebrows," james reminds her, nudging her side.

lily nods. "and eyebrows, yes. thank you, james."

"you're welcome, lily."

miss cole looks positively pained from behind her desk, with her lips pursed mcgonagall-thin and her beady eyes sinking beneath her frown-lines. she inspects james and lily and harry, the last standing beside his seated father and is still glaring in contempt at the other boy in the room. kevin. big burly kid who could so easily have been dudley's twin brother, if not for his hair (and eyebrows) being the most vivid shade of lapis lazuli at the moment. his parents (filthy rich from what they've heard) are not around; he's accompanied instead by a furious, flustered, really bewildered nanny named (nicknamed?) baby.

"kevin says he did it," says baby, pointing a wrinkly-knuckled finger at harry. she speaks in this loud spitting hiss that's her attempt at 'keeping quiet' after getting told off so many times for being so loud. "kevin would never do this to himself — "

"oh, why not? it looks amazing on him," says james, straight face and amazement and concern and all. harry's glare breaks, but he has the sense to bite down on his lip to keep his laugh in.

harry doesn't get in too much trouble for it, thank god, mostly for lack of evidence. lily had a point, and miss cole is driven to just conclude that the boys must have just agreed to mess around and color kevin's hair, and kevin initially agreed, except now he looks (even more) ridiculous and he's not happy about it. (what happened, really, if anyone wants to know, was that between morning break and maths kevin wanted to give harry a free haircut, because he thought his classmate 'four-eyes' looked stupid with his 'mop-head'. he stole harry's glasses, cornered him, held him by the collar and loomed triumphantly over him with a pair of scissors — then harry grappled blindly at his head and his hair was just — suddenly. all. blue.)

harry and kevin mutter their respective apologies, as asked of them by miss cole, and harry glances warily at his parents when the counselor asks them to shake hands. lily nods; james smiles at him, puts a hand around his shoulders and urges him forward. harry swallows at the glint in kevin's eye when he takes his small hand in his hammy fingers, ready to retaliate — but then james cocks his head to one side and — lily couldn't entirely see, standing behind, but she's pretty sure james just gave kevin the look. not the glare, he reserves that for equal grounds. it's the look; that calm, icy, smug, unhinged james potter look that knows it can't lose and dares you to try. it has made fully grown adversaries waver in the past, so lily can only imagine how downright terrifying that could be to a seven-year-old.

kevin drops harry's hand in barely two seconds. he's out of the office in five.

james glances back at lily to smirk. she smirks right back.

—

1988

the parlor is crowded, but they find an available table for two in the patio, under the shade of a giant green umbrella. halfway through his ice cream (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts), harry adjusts his glasses and opens his mouth to say something, but his uncle moony beats him to it: "the answer is no, harry."

"i wasn't gonna ask again!"

"alright. what is it then?"

"i was only going to say... that i promise not to tell anyone. i promise. not even daddy. or mum!"

remus laughs. "d'you think they don't know?"

harry's eyes widen, and he actually drops his spoon in disapproval. "they know what your boggart is? why won't you tell me?"

"because i don't want to lie to you. you're a grown up now, as you're so constantly reminding us — and we're friends! but i also don't want to tell you what it is yet."

"but — "

"come on now, harry."

"but now you're missing the list."

"i'm truly sorry about that."

harry pouts, digs in again, and then, "okay, what about your patronus?"

remus considers this for a moment. "wolf," he says quietly.

"cool."

remus beams at him. "yeah, cooler than your dad's. and padfoot's."

"oh. hm. well, i don't know about that," he quips honestly. "i do like that dad's is a stag... hey, uncle moony?"

"yeah?"

"what about uncle padfoot? does he know? i won't tell him, if you're worried about that."

remus chuckles, leaning over to wipe chocolate off harry's nose. "i'm sorry, he knows. look, how about i take you to hogwarts next sunday? i'll take you to the kitchens. that'll make up for being the lame uncle, won't it?"

harry lightens up. "really?"

"yes."

"yes! yes, please. thank you."

"alright then."

"can we go on saturday?"

"ah, no. the joke shop's opening on saturday."

"oh, yeah..."

ice cream is finished and the walk home is a quiet, autumn-colored calm. when the crowd thins on a particular stretch of the road, harry nudges remus's side. "hey, uncle moony."

"i really hope you're not going to ask me again."

"i wasn't."

"go on, then."

harry grins up at him. "i don't think you're lame at all."

—

1989

"you're kidding," says james, reverent and awestruck, and lily knows she's made the right decision.

"we're not," she replies in sing-song.

"but this is... this is the latest comet." he runs his hand along the smooth length of the new racing broom, mouth still open in amazement. "how — "

"we all pitched in. sirius and remus and — "

"and me!" says harry, jumping in and hugging what he can reach of james. he's been bursting since the idea came forth, and it's a miracle, really, that he managed to keep the secret in until now. "i pitched in! i broke mr. jupiter!"

"you broke mr. jupiter?" says james, torn away from the moment at once. "but mr. jupiter was for your broom! and you love mr. jupiter! you loved his smooth pink butt!"

harry giggles. "mum bought me another one. it's a tardis piggy bank! it's bigger on the inside. and uncle moony said hogwarts has brooms there i can practice with, dad, and uncle padfoot said he'd buy me a broomstick himself once i'm a really, really good flier. and, dad, they said — you're going to play in the world cup."

"oh. i — who said?"

"all of us," says lily, smirking.

"that's... the world cup. huh."

"yeah!" says harry, almost yelling now, practically bouncing in excitement. "you're going to play for puddlemere united, aren't you? i mean, the wasps are fine too, and i suppose the magpies would be excellent as well, but — "

"easy, harry," says lily. her grin is ear-splitting.

james holds up a hand. "alright, back up one second — but, lily, your work — "

"they've given me permission to work on the potions research at home. i can use the spare room upstairs — don't worry, harry and i have it all sorted out. right, harry?"

"yeah, we have." harry holds up his palm for a high-five, lily gives it to him, and james grins at them fondly.

"there's also that prophet column still going," continues lily, "and the boys already said tom can handle the joke shop just fine on his own now. i just thought... you haven't forgotten, have you? i know you always tell me it's okay, but i see you when you play with harry, and... it's always been your dream. you can now, james. go for it."

james exhales a shuddering sigh of disbelief, overwhelmed. and then, shaking his head at... them, at the feeling of being with them here, now, god — he drops the broom and takes his wife's face into his hands. her lips taste like flying, like winning, like lily evans under the beech tree by the lake that very first time, and so, so, so much more —

"good thing uncle padfoot's not here," remarks harry, righting the broom up from the floor and watching his parents in equal euphoria. "you guys are disgusting."

—

1990

kingsley shacklebolt is minister for magic, and james doesn't have to (re)practice his patronus charms, because it's a tall, bushy-eyebrowed auror who leads him down the poorly lit corridor and not a swarm of hooded barbarities who want to suck out his soul. the auror leaves him by a cell almost to the end of the hallway, and there's nothing at first, just varying shades of darkness everywhere james turns, the echoing beats of water dripping, the muffled rage of waves around the island. he thinks he can hear laughter from somewhere close; a cold, high-pitched female giggling, and he considers just walking out because — christ. this place is mad. but then there's movement from the corner, behind the bars, and then he's in front of him, and james... doesn't know. feels a lot of things. wants to punch him, most of all.

"prongs," says wormtail. no — peter. peter pettigrew. his voice is a scratchy whisper, his face sunken and his hair a long wispy dead mess. he's thinner than james has ever seen him.

"shut up," says james, voice low. he feels the urge to back away one step, not expecting peter to cling on to the bars and hungrily squeeze his face through them to see him.

"prongs." he says it so reverently, like a god's name. "i'm — what are you — " he's surveying james up and down, drinking in anything he can from beyond azkaban. "prongs, fuck, i'm so happy you're here — "

"i said shut up. i didn't come here for you."

peter looks surprised, then hurt, then his grip on the metal loosens as a maniacal grin starts to spread on his lips. "clearly, you did. you can't help it. dear god, i can't believe i almost gave up."

james blinks at him in incredulity. "what?"

"i am sorry, prongs. i am. and i knew you'd know that, i knew you'd come back for me, but it's been so long — "

james starts to laugh. "are you insane?"

peter shuts up.

james looks at him, really looks at him, and the anger threatens to bubble up the surface again. but he holds himself down, keeps his clenched fists on his sides. he takes a deep breath, licks his lips, and then: "we're happy."

"i'm — sorry?"

there. that's why he's here. not to lash out, but to... to drop the last of what's still been weighing him down. and now that he's said that, we're happy — he didn't know it's what he was supposed to say, didn't plan it. it just sort of came out. but now he does feel like he just rid himself of the last of it. the last bad thing.

his hand slackens. he thinks of his first world league match next month, of sirius and regulus talking again, of remus getting promoted in hogwarts. lily and harry brewing potions in the spare room. idle evenings eating ice cream at the town plaza fountain. the joke shop's first anniversary. that time they danced to the weird sisters' new song in the rain... "we're happy," he repeats. "me and lily and harry. sirius. remus. everyone left is happy, pete. everyone alive."

peter opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

"and i don't know if i've forgiven you. maybe i have, or maybe... i don't know, maybe i just stopped going back. i certainly haven't forgotten, but trust me, i will. soon enough no one will even remember you anymore."

"i'm..." but there's nothing peter can say now. maybe he really is sorry, and maybe it'll never be enough, but james doesn't care. and he knows that peter knows this, sees it on his face, because his former friend cuts his sentence short. "james..." not a god anymore.

"i'm done with you," says james, knowing it in his heart to be true. "goodbye, wormtail. from all of us."

and he's sure then that he really isn't angry anymore, that he's okay, truly and finally, because the name no longer hurts so much as it did years ago.

the same way, he thinks as he walks down the halls of the most desolate place on earth, feeling so strange to be so... so full of light, in a place like this — the same way frank and alice (and marlene and dorcas and benjy and gideon and fabian and all the others) haven't stung in a long while.

fin

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆˙⟡٠⭑.

bookmark/kudos/leave purple hearts on ao3? :) thanks for reading!

#jily #jily* #jily lives au #everybody lives au #jily au #jple #jily fanfiction #jily fanfic #jily fic #wolfstar as cute uncles because. pls #domestic fluff #HAPPY ENDING!!!!!!! #apalapucian*

[seventiesdeadgaywizards]

heyyyy i love your work sm!!!

do you think you could possibly do a wolfstar or jegulus wedding anniversary? maybe with baby harry??

thank you sm

have a great day and pls drink water <3333

snowfall and a special day

warnings: one use of explicit language, mentions of food, talk of male! pregnancies

genre: absolute fluff

pairing: regulus black x james potter, background evan rosier x barty crouch jr and remus lupin x sirius black

word count: 1k+

a/n: this is my first request on this account so thank you anon! it was a really cute one and i couldn’t resist with the rosekiller uncles as well as wolfstar. it just made sense to me with james’ friends there would be reggie’s as well

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Regulus had woken up to James gently stroking his hair, Harry nestled in between them, his soft breaths barely audibly. Regulus smiled down at him, not wanting to get up even though he had to, just wanting to stay with their small but perfect family. 

Eventually, he looks up at James, whispering as to not wake Harry. “I’ve got work, I’m coming home early though,” James nods with a smile and plants a kiss to his forehead. 

Regulus gets up quietly, ignoring Harry’s half awake pouts of “Papa! Come back!”, no matter how adorably they are. He throws on a suit, as he’s been able to ask for the afternoon off and only two meetings in the morning. He was excited, he’d be seeing Barty and Evan for the first time since they moved into their new place tonight. They’d also see Sirius and Remus. When they’d denied having a party because Harry was too young, Sirius had taken it upon himself to insist that they let him bring drinks. 

They’d spaced out the visits for Harry’s sake, knowing that both groups of adults would want to see him. They were seeing more friends tomorrow, but today was all that mattered.

Work passed by in a flash, just a whole bunch of nodding along and taking notes. By the time 1 o’clock came along, he was ready to see his husband and Harry again, and excited for their visitors. James had at first been pouting about the fact that he had to work on their anniversary, suggesting everything from calling in sick to blocking the conference rooms in the middle of the night from the inside so oops, looks like I’ll have to go home. Regulus had laughed and said it was fine, even though he had also wanted to just call in sick, he didn’t want to waste a sick day.

He rushed home, loosening his tie on the way in and racing upstairs to get changed, giving James a quick “Hello, love,” and a kiss on the cheek. He pulls on a Tshirt and jeans, before going downstairs as James wakes Harry. 

After a few minutes of rushed taking food out and last-minute cleaning, the doorbell rang. Regulus got it, smiling as he opened it. He hugged Barty and Evan tightly, laughing and joking with them. However, Barty soon made his motives clear. “Move your ass, Reg, I’m here to see my nephew!” Evan laughed and apologized for his behavior, and Regulus acted hurt before moving aside and letting Harry run towards them. 

“Uncle Rosie!” Harry proclaims, racing on his chubby legs toward the door as Evan crouches down to hug him and lift him off his feet. He’d taken to calling Evan that after hearing Barty call him Rosy, and Evan thought it was absolutely adorable. 

Barty fakes deep sadness as Harry chooses Evan over him, and Harry comes over, giving him a hug too. Barty shoots Regulus a look over Harry's hair, and says so Harry can’t hear; “I’m an afterthought. You’ve taught him horribly, Reg.” Regulus laughed. 

They talked for a while, James and Regulus asking about they’re move and family and all, and Harry enthusiastically showing his Uncles all of his favorite toys.

At 4:30, however, they have to go, as Pandora was throwing a party the same night. As they leave, they hear Barty tell Evan; “Okay, we need a child.” Evan laughs, then responds with, “You’d be the pregnant one, Bee, and I don’t think you’d manage that.” “Fine, then adoption!” Is Barty’s indignant answer, to which Evan responds with a hum, as though sure, let’s see how long it takes till you’re sick of it.

At around four fourty-five, the doorbell rings again. James opens it this time to Sirius and Remus, letting them in as Harry once again runs to greet the visitors. They hug Harry, laughing. Harry, however, immediately runs to Sirius, one objective in mind: pulling his bun out. Today it had a paintbrush in it of which the tip had been dyed pink after not washing it, and they hadn’t wanted to throw it away.

Sirius, boastful that Harry chose him, let’s out a squeak of surprise as he immediately grabs the paintbrush, effectively messing up his hair. Remus doubled over laughing at his shocked face, mouth gaping, and so did James. 

“You look like Moana,” Harry observes in awe, just as shocked but at the sight of him with his hair fully down. Remus laughs again, telling Sirius, “You are as demanding as a princess. But you act more like Maui,” Sirius gasps in offense and shoves Remus with his shoulder. Remus shoves right back. 

Harry, who was slightly tired by his earlier visit, still ran around, showing them everything in the house, including the upstairs and the bathrooms. They didn’t have the heart to tell him they’d seen the whole thing already when Reggie and James had moved in, he was just so excited.

Once it was time for them to leave, goodbyes were lingering as nobody really wanted them to go. They were eventually sent off with a tray of merengues for the holiday season, and when they opened the door to leave, they got yet another surprise. The whole front porch was lightly layered with white. It took a moment to click, but then they realized… snow. The first snow of the season. 

Sirius, being Sirius, did all his pouty child complaining about how cold it was outside. Remus, after mouthing I live with a child to James, making him looks in a laugh, just told him, “You’ll survive,” and as Sirius stuck his tongue out at him just laughed. 

They thanked them for the dessert and seeing Harry, and left the house and left Harry drained of energy… until he saw the snow. And it was hard to deny him of things, but even more so on they’re anniversary. Which is how they ended up in winter coats after dark at six pm in the park playing with the snow. It was the perfect end to the day.

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