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The teachers went on strike on a Tuesday, which felt illegal somehow.
Tuesday was supposed to be maths tests and lukewarm chips and pretending to listen while Mr. Fenwick droned on about long division like it had emotional significance. Instead, the gates of St. Bartholomew’s Secondary were locked, a printed notice flapping uselessly in the wind, and half of North London’s teenagers were released into the wild like an underfunded social experiment.
Sirius Black took it as a blessing.
“Right,” James Potter declared, hands shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket as they wandered down the high street. “We’ve been gifted freedom. We cannot waste it.”
“You say that like we’ve been pardoned from death row,” Lily Evans said dryly.
“Feels like it,” Peter Pettigrew muttered. “I had double chemistry.”
Remus Lupin adjusted the strap of his satchel, eyes amused behind tired lashes. “We could revise.”
There was a collective groan so violent it startled a pigeon into flight.
“Remus,” Marlene McKinnon said, clapping a hand over her heart, “read the room.”
They were sixteen, loud, feral with boredom, drifting past charity shops and corner cafés like a pack of unsupervised wolves. Fabian and Gideon Prewett were arguing about whether to pool their coins for milkshakes. Mary Macdonald and Alice Fortescue were dissecting some Year Eleven drama with forensic enthusiasm. Frank Longbottom walked beside them, laughing easily, hands shoved in his hoodie.
Sirius lagged half a step behind, phone in hand, dark hair falling into his eyes.
James glanced over. “If you’re texting someone more interesting than us, I’m offended.”
Sirius didn’t answer.
He’d opened the Find My app out of habit more than anything. His parents were absurdly overprotective with Regulus—AirTags sewn into coat linings, location sharing permanently on. Sirius had mocked it for months.
Now he was frowning.
“Uh,” he said.
Lily looked over. “What?”
“My brother’s not at nursery.”
“Is that… unusual?” Alice asked.
Sirius zoomed in. The little dot labeled Reg was moving down Harrington Road.
“And my dad’s location is right next to him.”
James blinked. “Isn’t your dad meant to be at work?”
“Yes.”
They all leaned in, a circle of curiosity around the glowing map.
“Maybe they’ve just gone out for lunch?” Peter offered.
“At ten in the morning?” Mary snorted.
Sirius chewed the inside of his cheek. Regulus was four. Four and tiny and dramatic and prone to chaos.
“Why would he be leaving school?” Frank asked.
Sirius exhaled slowly. “Unless he got sent home.”
“For what?” Gideon asked.
Sirius’s mouth twitched. “He bit someone last week because they wouldn’t let him have the red crayon.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
“HE BIT SOMEONE?” Marlene shrieked.
“He’s four,” Sirius said defensively. “He’s… expressive.”
James slung an arm around Sirius’s shoulders. “Lead the way, Black. We must witness this menace.”
They cut down a side street, laughter echoing off brick terraces. Sirius walked faster than he meant to.
He tried not to think about the fact that Regulus got quiet when he was sick. Tried not to think about the way his little brother clung harder when he didn’t feel well.
They turned the corner.
And there he was.
Orion Black stood halfway down the pavement, tall and sharp in a dark overcoat, holding a child entirely horizontal in the air by the back of an enormous cream-colored puffer coat.
Regulus Black dangled like an indignant marshmallow.
His tiny boots kicked uselessly. His dark curls were flattened on one side from being dragged out of somewhere too quickly. His cheeks were flushed pink with fever and humiliation.
“Daddy,” Regulus whined, voice small and furious all at once. “Put me DOWN.”
“I will when you stop trying to bite pedestrians,” Orion said calmly.
“I NOT bite pedestrian!”
“You absolutely would.”
Sirius burst out laughing.
“Oh my god,” James breathed. “Is that him?”
“That,” Sirius said fondly, “is Reg.”
Walburga Black adored dressing her youngest in oversized, aggressively plush coats that made him look like a luxury dessert item. The coat swallowed him whole. Only his boots and furious little face stuck out.
“Why is he horizontal?” Fabian wheezed.
“Because,” Sirius said, grinning, “Mum says it makes him look like a little marshmallow. She’s not wrong.”
Regulus wriggled violently, twisting sideways, arms flailing. “Daddy I feel SICK.”
“I know,” Orion said gently, shifting his grip.
Up close, it was clearer—Regulus’s eyes were glossy. He wasn’t just throwing a tantrum. He was tired.
“What happened?” Sirius called.
Orion looked up, startled, then softened. “Ah. There you are.”
Regulus’s head snapped toward the voice.
“SIIIWUS!”
He kicked harder.
“Careful,” Orion warned as Sirius approached. “He’s had a morning.”
Regulus pouted, lower lip trembling. “I didn’t MEAN to.”
Sirius stepped closer, laughter fading as he took in the flushed cheeks. “Didn’t mean to what?”
Orion sighed. “He was sick at school. Quite sick. And then he—”
“I DID NOT,” Regulus protested weakly.
“You did,” Orion said mildly. “You bit Miss Patel.”
There was a stunned silence.
Mary made a strangled noise.
“You BIT A TEACHER?” James barked, delighted.
“I NOT FEEL WELL!” Regulus wailed. “She say no!”
“To what?” Sirius asked gently.
“To go home,” Regulus sniffed. “I feel yucky and she say wait.”
Orion adjusted his grip and then, with a long-suffering exhale, shifted Regulus upright, settling him properly on his hip.
The transformation was immediate.
Regulus curled into him like he’d been waiting for that exact moment. Tiny arms wrapped around Orion’s neck. His face buried into his father’s collar.
“Oh,” Alice whispered.
Orion stroked a hand through the soft curls. “You’re not in trouble, my boy.”
“I have accident,” Regulus mumbled miserably into his coat.
Sirius winced.
“Ah,” Remus murmured quietly.
Regulus’s face burned red. “It was BAD.”
“I know,” Orion said softly. “You felt poorly. It happens.”
“I promise Jesus I been good today,” Regulus sniffed.
There was a stunned pause.
Sirius choked.
“Why is he invoking Jesus?” Gideon whispered.
“We are not even religious,” Fabian wheezed.
Orion froze mid-step.
“Boy,” he said carefully, “do not say that right now. You’re about to get us struck by lightning.”
Regulus stiffened.
His little brows furrowed.
“No I NOT,” he huffed.
Sirius laughed so hard he had to brace a hand against James’s shoulder.
Orion huffed, shaking his head, then pressed a kiss to Regulus’s hair.
“You’re not in trouble,” he repeated quietly. “You were ill. That’s all.”
Regulus sniffled. “I want cuddle.”
“You have cuddle.”
“I want TV.”
“We’ll see.”
“I want McDonal’s.”
There it was.
Orion’s mouth twitched.
Sirius saw it—that crack in the armour. His father, sharp-suited and composed, utterly undone by a four-year-old in a marshmallow coat.
“We’ll see,” Orion repeated weakly.
Regulus lifted his head just enough to glare.
“You always say that.”
James was vibrating beside Sirius.
“He’s four and already emotionally manipulating,” he whispered.
“He copies me,” Sirius said smugly.
Regulus’s head turned again, sleepy eyes widening.
“Siiiwus.”
Sirius stepped closer.
“Hey, menace.”
Regulus reached for him with one tiny hand, then immediately clung back to Orion as if reconsidering the effort.
“You sick?” Sirius asked, softer now.
Regulus nodded against Orion’s chest. “Miss Patel mean.”
“She’s not mean,” Orion said gently.
“She say no bathroom.”
There was a beat.
“Oh,” Lily muttered.
Orion’s jaw tightened briefly. “Yes. We will be discussing that.”
Regulus whimpered. “Daddy stay home?”
“Yes.”
“All day?”
“Yes.”
“No work?”
Orion brushed his thumb along Regulus’s warm cheek. “No work.”
“And Mummy?”
“She’ll come home early.”
Regulus relaxed a fraction.
“And Siwus?”
Sirius felt something twist in his chest.
“I’m here.”
Regulus squinted at the group behind him.
Who were all staring like they’d just discovered a rare woodland creature.
“Who that?” he whispered suspiciously.
“My friends,” Sirius said.
Regulus buried his face again.
“No.”
James let out an undignified squeal.
“He’s so SMALL.”
“Why is he that tiny?”
“His coat is bigger than Peter.”
“Oi!”
Orion looked mildly overwhelmed.
Sirius cleared his throat.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have school.”
“So I gathered.”
“And I was… sort of meant to be out.”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t want to leave him.”
Regulus tightened his grip instinctively.
“So,” Sirius continued smoothly, “what if they come over?”
There was silence.
Eleven teenagers stared at Orion Black.
Orion stared back.
Regulus peeked out again.
“Come house?” he echoed faintly.
Sirius smiled at his father in a way that was very deliberate.
Orion exhaled through his nose.
“We are not a youth centre.”
“We’re very quiet,” Remus offered, which made everyone snort.
“Please,” Sirius added quietly.
It wasn’t about fun anymore.
It was about not leaving his little brother when he felt small and embarrassed and sick.
Orion looked at him.
Really looked at him.
Then at Regulus, who was half-asleep and still clinging.
“Fine,” Orion said at last.
The explosion was immediate.
Mary screamed.
Marlene physically jumped.
James grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and shook him. “YOU’VE DONE IT.”
Regulus flinched at the noise.
Orion shot them a look sharp enough to cut glass.
“Inside voices,” he warned.
Regulus blinked sleepily.
“They loud.”
“Yes,” Orion agreed. “Tragically.”
Sirius stepped closer and brushed a hand gently over Regulus’s hair.
“You’re okay, Reg.”
Regulus leaned into it automatically.
“I want cuddle and TV and McDonal’s,” he repeated stubbornly.
Orion sighed, defeated.
“We will discuss McDonald’s.”
Regulus’s eyes fluttered shut.
Sirius smiled.
Behind him, his friends were vibrating with anticipation.
Ahead of him, his father carried his little brother home like something fragile and precious.
The city had stopped.
But their day had only just begun.
-
Everyone forgot.
Every single time.
They’d grown up with Sirius—his ripped jeans, his scuffed trainers, the cigarette he never quite admitted to, the way he lounged on bus stops like he owned the pavement but not much else. He laughed too loud, swore too much, stole chips off other people’s plates.
He did not act like someone whose house required wrought-iron gates.
“Bloody hell,” Fabian Prewett muttered as the taxi dropped them off.
The Black townhouse rose like something transplanted from a period drama—four storeys of pale stone and tall windows framed in black ironwork. A brass plaque by the door gleamed discreetly. The pavement outside was immaculate.
James let out a low whistle. “You live here.”
“Unfortunately,” Sirius said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Peter blinked up at it. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
“I never exaggerate,” Sirius replied gravely.
Marlene snorted.
Orion climbed the steps ahead of them, Regulus still tucked against his chest in that absurdly plush coat. The front door opened with a soft click, revealing polished marble floors, high ceilings, a sweeping staircase.
There was a collective silence.
Mary leaned toward Lily and whispered, “We need to rob him.”
“I can hear you,” Sirius called over his shoulder.
They filed inside.
The house smelled faintly of expensive candles and lemon polish. Paintings lined the walls. The place felt lived in, but meticulously so—like nothing was ever allowed to be accidentally messy.
“Shoes off,” Orion said absently, already moving toward the living room.
Eleven teenagers immediately fumbled at laces.
Sirius grinned faintly at their wide eyes. He’d forgotten, too.
Orion carried Regulus into the sitting room—a vast space with velvet sofas, a massive television mounted above a fireplace, shelves lined with books and framed photographs.
“Entertain your friends,” Orion told Sirius calmly. “Quietly.”
Sirius gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
Orion sat on the sofa and gently set Regulus down beside him.
Without the puffer coat, Regulus looked even smaller.
His nursery uniform—tiny grey trousers, a soft blue jumper with the school crest, little black shoes—made him look heartbreakingly neat. His curls were slightly mussed. His eyes were glassy.
“Stay here,” Orion murmured.
Regulus nodded, then immediately leaned sideways, pressing his forehead against Orion’s arm.
Orion’s expression softened.
He knelt, pressing his palm to Regulus’s warm forehead.
“You’re still hot.”
“I not,” Regulus mumbled stubbornly.
“You are.”
“I fine.”
“You bit someone today.”
Regulus scowled.
“I didn’t mean.”
“I know.”
Orion stood and moved with efficient grace—into the kitchen, returning moments later with a juice box, crackers, a small bowl of sliced apple, and a folded blanket.
The others were pretending not to watch.
They were failing.
Orion tucked the blanket around Regulus’s shoulders. Regulus immediately curled into it like a cat.
“Juice,” Orion instructed.
Regulus took it with both hands and sipped, eyes drifting toward the television.
Orion looked at Sirius.
“He chooses. No one changes it.”
James put a hand over his heart. “We would never.”
Orion’s gaze sharpened.
“You will.”
“Fair,” James admitted.
Regulus shuffled.
Then, slowly, he slid off the sofa and padded across the carpet.
Straight to Sirius.
He tugged at his jeans.
“Siiiwus.”
Sirius crouched instantly.
“What?”
“Put on.”
“What?”
Regulus gestured vaguely at the television.
“The one,” he insisted.
“The what one?”
“The one.”
Sirius squinted at him. “With the duck?”
Regulus nodded frantically.
“No, wait,” Sirius said. “The blue dog?”
Regulus gasped. “YES.”
The room erupted.
“HOW DOES HE KNOW?” Mary demanded.
“He speaks fluent toddler,” Marlene breathed.
Sirius grabbed the remote, navigated with alarming confidence, and within seconds an obnoxiously cheerful cartoon filled the screen.
Regulus beamed.
Then he crawled back to the sofa, dragging his blanket like a royal train.
Orion’s mouth twitched.
“Of course,” Remus murmured. “They’re the same person.”
Orion’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it and stepped into the hallway.
They could hear him faintly.
“Yes, he’s home. Feverish. Yes, he’s eaten. Yes, I spoke to the school.”
A pause.
“He asked for you.”
Sirius grinned.
“Oh god,” James whispered. “Is that your mum?”
“Yes,” Sirius said darkly.
There was a softer tone in Orion’s voice now.
“Yes, darling. I will. Yes.”
Another pause.
“Yes, I love you too.”
Sirius gagged loudly from the sofa.
“Disgusting.”
Orion reappeared, expression composed but faintly amused.
“Your mother is coming home.”
Regulus perked up instantly.
“MUMMY?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Regulus considered this.
Then suspiciously: “McDonal’s?”
Orion pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will wait for Mummy and ask her.”
Sirius barked a laugh.
“Oh, she’ll say yes immediately.”
Orion shot him a look.
“She will not.”
They both knew she would.
Orion crouched beside Regulus.
“Up,” he murmured.
Regulus frowned. “Why?”
“Because your mother,” Orion said patiently, “has requested you be dressed appropriately.”
Sirius burst out laughing.
“No.”
Regulus’s eyes widened in horror.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Orion scooped him up easily.
Regulus squirmed. “NO.”
“You will wear the dinosaur.”
The room fell silent.
“The what?” Fabian whispered.
Sirius pressed a hand over his mouth, delighted.
Regulus began batting at Orion’s shoulder with tiny fists.
“No tail!”
“There is a tail.”
“I no want spikes!”
“There are spikes.”
“I no want teeth!”
“There are also teeth.”
The teenagers dissolved into hysterics.
Orion carried Regulus upstairs while he protested dramatically the entire way.
There were thumps. Indignant shrieks. The faint sound of fabric rustling.
Then—
Footsteps.
Orion descended the stairs holding what could only be described as a small, furious, fleece dinosaur.
The onesie was green. Soft. Ridiculously fluffy. A hood shaped like a dinosaur head flopped over Regulus’s curls, felt teeth framing his forehead. Tiny felt claws covered his hands. A stuffed tail trailed behind him.
He looked devastatingly adorable.
He also looked deeply offended.
The room exploded.
Mary actually screamed.
James fell off the armchair.
“OH MY GOD.”
“He’s a DINOSAUR.”
“He’s so SMALL.”
Regulus huffed, crossing his little arms.
“I hate it.”
Sirius clutched his chest.
“Oh my god,” he croaked. “You’re perfect.”
Regulus glared at him.
“Take it off.”
“No,” Sirius said immediately. “Absolutely not.”
Orion set him gently back on the sofa.
Regulus wriggled, tail flopping indignantly, then burrowed under the blanket again with a dramatic sigh.
Orion sat beside him, one arm automatically wrapping around his small body. He held the juice box and snacks within easy reach so Regulus didn’t have to move far.
Regulus leaned fully into him.
“Daddy.”
“Yes.”
“When Mummy come?”
“Soon.”
“McDonal’s.”
“We wait.”
Sirius laughed and dropped dramatically to the floor.
He shuffled forward on his stomach like a seal and propped himself against Orion’s knee, resting his chin there.
Orion huffed.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Never,” Sirius replied cheerfully.
He tipped his head back to grin at Regulus.
“You look ridiculous.”
Regulus scowled sleepily.
“You stupid.”
The room howled.
Orion’s hand dropped to Sirius’s hair, ruffling it absentmindedly.
“Language,” he murmured.
Sirius leaned into the touch without thinking.
Regulus shifted, tiny claws brushing Orion’s chest.
“I want nugget.”
Orion smiled faintly down at him.
“We will see what your mother says.”
Sirius snorted. “She’s going to melt.”
“She will exercise restraint,” Orion said.
They both knew he was lying.
The cartoon played on.
Regulus’s eyes grew heavier.
His small body curled tighter into his father’s side, tail squished awkwardly between them.
Sirius stayed on the floor, chin still resting on Orion’s leg, staring at his brother like he was something sacred.
Half an hour passed in chaos.
Not loud chaos—Orion wouldn’t allow that—but the contained, simmering kind that came from eleven teenagers trying not to explode in the presence of a four-year-old who looked like a disgruntled dinosaur.
Regulus lay wedged into Orion’s side beneath a blanket the colour of charcoal, fleece hood half-slipped so one felt eye drooped over his temple. The tiny green tail stuck stubbornly out from beneath the blanket like evidence of poor decisions.
On the television, bright animated dogs were solving deeply unconvincing problems.
James lasted eight minutes.
“Right,” he said carefully, as if approaching a bomb. “When I was little, I used to watch this pirate show that was elite. Ships. Swords. Mild peril.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes.
“No.”
“We’re not changing it,” Sirius warned from the floor, still draped dramatically at Orion’s legs.
“I’m just suggesting,” James said innocently.
“NO,” Regulus shouted, startling himself into a cough.
Orion’s hand immediately smoothed down his back.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Breathe.”
Regulus wheezed indignantly. “Mine.”
“Yes. It’s yours.”
Peter leaned forward. “What about dinosaurs? Real dinosaurs. Educational.”
Regulus gasped in betrayal.
“I AM dinosaur!”
“That’s— fair,” Peter conceded.
Marlene, traitorously, said, “The spikes are kind of brilliant.”
“They are not,” Mary insisted. “They’re criminal.”
“I hate it,” Regulus muttered again, though he was very pointedly not asking to take it off anymore.
Fabian crouched near the coffee table, peering at him. “You look powerful.”
Regulus sniffed.
“I feel yucky.”
The room softened a fraction.
“Leave the show alone,” Sirius said, pointing lazily without lifting his head. “If one of you changes it, I’ll bite you myself.”
Regulus blinked slowly.
“You bite too?”
“Sometimes,” Sirius replied solemnly.
Orion exhaled through his nose. “Encouraging violence is not helpful.”
Regulus shifted, wriggling deeper into his father’s side. His little claws batted weakly at the blanket.
“I want nugget,” he whined again, voice thick with fatigue.
“We’re waiting,” Orion said.
Regulus pouted so hard his entire face seemed to shrink inward.
“I sad.”
“I can see that.”
Mary pressed both hands to her chest. “I can’t handle this.”
“Why is he like this?” Gideon whispered, equal parts awe and accusation.
“Because,” Sirius said smugly, “he’s mine.”
Regulus perked up at that.
He leaned forward slightly, peering at Sirius upside down.
“Siiiwus.”
“What?”
“You stupid.”
The room detonated.
Orion covered his mouth briefly, hiding a smile.
Sirius clutched his heart. “You wound me.”
Regulus considered this, then sagged dramatically against Orion again.
There was a beat of relative peace.
Then the front door opened.
Heels clicked sharply on marble.
“Orion?” Walburga Black called from the hallway. “What on earth—”
She stepped into the sitting room and stopped.
There were too many shoes by the door. Too many unfamiliar faces. Eleven teenagers frozen mid-motion.
Her gaze swept the room.
Then—
“MUMMY!”
Regulus untangled himself in a flurry of fleece and blanket and toddled off the sofa with zero coordination.
“Careful—” Orion started.
Too late.
Regulus stumbled across the rug, tail bouncing, hood flopping into his eyes. He crashed full-force into Walburga’s legs and wrapped both arms around her knees.
“I SICK,” he wailed.
Walburga dropped her handbag immediately.
“Oh, sweetheart—”
“I feel YUCKY,” he sobbed, voice cracking. “I have accident.”
Her entire posture changed in an instant.
She sank to her knees.
“Oh, my baby,” she cooed, sweeping him up effortlessly into her arms.
Regulus clung to her like he’d been waiting all day to unravel.
“I didn’t mean,” he hiccupped. “Miss Patel say no and I feel bad and I have accident and it was BAD.”
Walburga frowned slightly. “Accident?”
Orion cleared his throat.
“He was unwell. They delayed sending him home.”
Understanding dawned.
Walburga’s expression cooled dangerously for half a second before she looked back down at Regulus, smoothing his curls from his damp cheeks.
“Oh, darling. That’s not your fault.”
Regulus’s lower lip trembled.
“I was ’barrassed.”
“I know.”
He buried his face into her shoulder.
“I bite.”
A pause.
Walburga looked at Orion.
Orion lifted a shoulder.
“She was obstructive.”
Walburga inhaled slowly.
Then she kissed Regulus’s temple.
“We will discuss appropriate responses later,” she said gently. “But you were poorly. That’s what matters.”
Regulus sniffed and pulled back just enough to look at her with watery, devastating eyes.
“Mummy.”
“Yes, love?”
“McDonal’s.”
There it was.
The entire room leaned in.
Walburga didn’t even hesitate.
“Of course.”
The eruption was deafening.
“I KNEW IT,” Sirius shouted from the floor.
Orion closed his eyes briefly.
Regulus beamed through tears.
“I get nugget?”
“You will get nuggets,” Walburga confirmed, pressing kisses all over his cheeks.
He giggled weakly and melted against her, fingers curling into the fabric of her blouse.
“My poor little dinosaur,” she murmured, brushing her thumb along the soft fleece spikes. “Look at you.”
“I hate it,” Regulus mumbled, snuggling closer.
“You look adorable.”
He sighed.
He did not argue.
Walburga stood gracefully, Regulus balanced on her hip like he’d always belonged there. She leaned over and kissed Orion softly.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For handling it.”
He smiled faintly. “He was brave.”
Regulus perked up slightly at that word.
“Brave.”
“Yes,” Walburga agreed. “Very brave.”
Then her gaze slid toward Sirius.
“Hello, my eldest.”
Sirius narrowed his eyes.
“No.”
“Yes.”
She stepped forward and wrapped one arm around him, hauling him up from the floor despite his protests.
“MUM—”
She kissed his cheek.
Then the other.
Then his forehead.
“MUM STOP—”
“I missed you,” she cooed.
“I was gone for six hours!”
Regulus leaned forward in her arms, delighted.
He grabbed Sirius’s collar with one tiny clawed hand.
“Siiiwus.”
“No,” Sirius begged.
Regulus planted an aggressive, open-mouthed toddler kiss on Sirius’s cheek.
“MWAH.”
The room collapsed into hysterics.
Sirius screamed.
“HELP.”
Walburga tightened her grip, pressing more kisses into his face.
“I love you,” she sing-songed.
“I’m being assaulted.”
Regulus gasped in inspiration.
“WUV YOU,” he echoed proudly, smacking another kiss onto Sirius’s jaw.
Sirius twisted uselessly.
“Why is he like this?”
Walburga smirked. “Because he adores you.”
Orion folded his arms, amused.
“He has excellent taste.”
Regulus leaned back just enough to squint at Sirius’s face.
“Wuv Siwus,” he declared solemnly.
Sirius groaned, cheeks pink.
“Why.”
Walburga kissed him again for good measure.
“My dramatic boy,” she teased. “You used to cling to me just like that.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Regulus nodded emphatically. “Cling.”
“Traitor,” Sirius muttered.
Walburga adjusted Regulus higher on her hip and pressed one more kiss to Sirius’s temple before finally releasing him.
Sirius stumbled backward dramatically, wiping his face.
“I’m oppressed.”
“You’re loved,” Orion corrected.
Regulus settled back into his mother’s shoulder, exhaustion creeping in again now that his emotional crisis had passed.
“Mummy,” he murmured.
“Yes?”
“Stay.”
“I’m here.”
He sighed, content.
The room was warm. Loud. Full.
And Regulus Black—fleece dinosaur, feverish and adored—curled against his mother as if the world had righted itself.
Across from them, Sirius watched with a softness he would deny under oath.
And both his parents saw it.
Regulus did not relinquish his position.
He sat firmly on Walburga’s lap like a tiny, feverish monarch, wrapped in fleece spikes and blanket, one small fist curled into the fabric of her blouse as if the world might attempt to steal her if he loosened his grip.
Orion settled into the armchair opposite, phone already in hand.
Sirius immediately draped himself sideways across his father’s lap like an overgrown cat.
“You are sixteen,” Orion observed calmly.
“And yet,” Sirius replied, stretching further, “still your favourite.”
Walburga arched a brow. “Delusion is hereditary, I see.”
Regulus peered over at them.
“Daddy,” he called.
“Yes?”
“Food.”
Orion nodded once and unlocked his phone.
“Right. We’ll begin.”
James leaned forward eagerly. “This is historic.”
Orion ignored him.
“Sirius.”
“Double cheeseburger meal. Large. Fries. Coke. Mozzarella sticks. Two barbecue sauces.”
“You don’t need two.”
“I absolutely do.”
Orion added them without comment.
“You will regret it.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
Walburga ran her fingers through Regulus’s curls as he watched the screen with laser focus.
“Mine,” he whispered.
“Patience,” she murmured.
Orion tapped the screen again. “Mine is simple.”
“It never is,” Sirius muttered.
“Quarter pounder. No pickles. Medium fries. Still water.”
Sirius craned his head back dramatically. “Water? We’re ordering McDonald’s and you’re getting water?”
“I have standards.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Orion flicked his son’s ear lightly.
Then, without looking up, he added, “And a Filet-O-Fish.”
Walburga smirked. “I wondered how long you’d pretend.”
Orion slid her a look.
“You love that ridiculous sandwich.”
“It is not ridiculous.”
Sirius gasped. “He’s in denial.”
Orion finished adding items, then—without consulting her—added a grilled chicken wrap, side salad, and sparkling water.
Walburga blinked.
“You do know what I like.”
“I have been married to you for twenty years.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Sirius gagged loudly from across Orion’s lap.
“I am trying to lie here.”
“Get off me,” Orion said mildly.
“No.”
Regulus shifted, suddenly wriggling with renewed urgency.
“My turn.”
Orion handed the phone carefully to Walburga.
“Supervise.”
She balanced it between them.
“Alright, darling. What would you like?”
Regulus straightened, serious.
“Nugget.”
“Of course.”
Walburga added a six-piece.
“More nugget.”
She changed it to a twenty.
No one reacted.
“Nugget share?” Peter whispered.
“No,” Sirius said immediately. “He guards them.”
Regulus leaned closer to the phone.
“Burger.”
“Which one?” Walburga asked patiently.
He squinted at the pictures.
“That one.”
“That narrows it down beautifully.”
“The big one.”
Walburga added a Big Mac.
“And that one.”
She added a cheeseburger.
“And that.”
A wrap.
“And fries.”
“Large or small?”
“Large.”
She selected large.
“Curly—”
“They don’t do curly.”
He gasped in betrayal.
“Apple pie.”
“Two?”
“Yes.”
“Milkshake.”
“Flavour?”
“Pink.”
“Strawberry,” she translated.
“Chocolate too.”
Added.
“Ice cream.”
“Flurry?”
“Smarties.”
Added.
“Other one.”
“Oreo?”
He nodded vigorously.
Added.
“Mozzy sticks.”
Added.
“Sauce.”
“Which sauce?”
“All.”
She selected an alarming number of sauces.
“Toy.”
“Happy Meal toy?”
“Yes.”
Added.
“Juice.”
“Apple or orange?”
“Yes.”
Both.
The total climbed.
No one blinked.
This was normal.
Behind them, ten teenagers stared in awe.
“He’s ordering like a king,” Fabian whispered.
“He is the king,” Sirius replied lazily.
Regulus leaned back against Walburga, satisfied.
“And pancake.”
Walburga paused. “It is four in the afternoon.”
“Pancake.”
She added them.
Orion leaned forward slightly, scanning the cart.
“You’ll eat three bites,” he said calmly.
Regulus shrugged.
Sirius lifted his head. “Anything he doesn’t eat gets boxed up. He lives off leftovers for days. It’s efficient.”
“Efficient,” Remus echoed faintly.
Walburga didn’t question a single addition.
She simply tapped confirm.
Then she turned to the room.
“And for the guests.”
There was immediate chaos.
“You don’t have to—”
“We absolutely do not need—”
“Oh my god yes please.”
Walburga smiled faintly.
“One meal each. Main, side, drink.”
She began calling them out by name like she was taking attendance.
“James.”
“Big Tasty meal. Large. Coke.”
“Lily.”
“Chicken select meal. Water.”
“Peter.”
“Quarter pounder. Fanta.”
“Remus.”
“Just a cheeseburger meal. Medium.”
“Marlene.”
“Wrap. Fries. Coke.”
“Mary.”
“Nuggets. Fries. Milkshake.”
“Alice.”
“Filet-O-Fish. Don’t judge me.”
“Frank.”
“Double cheeseburger. Large.”
“Fabian.”
“Big Mac.”
“Gideon.”
“Same.”
Walburga added every single one.
The total was obscene.
She didn’t flinch.
She tapped confirm.
“Forty-five minutes,” Orion said.
Regulus slumped sleepily against her.
“Soon,” she told him softly.
He nodded, then glanced across at Sirius.
“Siiiwus.”
“What?”
“Share nugget.”
The room went silent.
Sirius froze.
“Did he just—”
“Share?” James hissed.
Sirius sat up slightly, staring at his brother.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ll share.”
Regulus blinked slowly, satisfied with this outcome.
Then he curled back into Walburga’s chest, fleece hood slipping sideways again.
Orion reached over and gently adjusted it.
“Comfortable?”
Regulus nodded.
Walburga pressed a kiss to his hair.
“My sweet boy.”
Sirius slid further across Orion’s lap, stretching like a cat reclaiming territory.
“This is the best strike day ever.”
Orion rested one hand automatically on Sirius’s back.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Sirius replied smugly, “you love me.”
Orion didn’t deny it.
He just ruffled his hair.
Across the room, ten teenagers sat in stunned silence.
They had expected chaos.
They had not expected this—this absurd, extravagant, soft domestic kingdom where a four-year-old in a dinosaur onesie could order half a menu without question.
Regulus sighed in his mother’s arms.
“Nugget soon.”
“Yes, darling,” Walburga murmured.
“Very soon.”
The room stayed quiet for a long moment after the order confirmation pinged.
Forty-five minutes.
Total: a number so offensive that Peter actually leaned forward to check he’d read it correctly.
“…That’s,” he began weakly, “that’s more than my mum spends on groceries for a week.”
James looked personally betrayed. “You just dropped that like it was a bus fare.”
Walburga didn’t even glance at the total again. She simply set the phone down on the side table and adjusted Regulus on her lap as if she’d ordered a cup of tea.
Orion leaned back in his chair.
“It’s lunch,” he said simply.
“Lunch,” Fabian repeated faintly.
Sirius smirked from where he was still draped across his father.
“Relax. That’s basically pocket change.”
“Pocket change?” Mary squeaked.
“Yeah,” Sirius continued lazily. “It’s like getting a snack from the corner shop. You lot are acting like we bought the building.”
“You bought the building?” Gideon asked immediately.
“No,” Sirius said. “We already own it.”
There was a collective silence.
“You’re joking,” James said.
Sirius just grinned.
Orion didn’t confirm.
He didn’t deny it either.
Regulus, meanwhile, had grown restless.
The emotional storm had passed. The feverish clinginess had softened into something more energetic. He wriggled on Walburga’s lap, then slid off her knees entirely and flopped dramatically onto the sofa cushions.
“I bored.”
“You were dying fifteen minutes ago,” Sirius said.
Regulus rolled onto his back, fleece spikes squashing beneath him.
“I want different.”
Walburga brushed his curls from his forehead. “Different what, darling?”
“Show.”
“No,” James whispered instinctively.
Regulus sat up with surprising force and pointed at the television.
“Disney.”
Sirius groaned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Reg.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
Regulus scrambled off the sofa and waddled across the rug again, tail bouncing behind him. He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and thrust it at Sirius.
“Princess frog.”
There it was.
Sirius leaned his head back against Orion’s knee dramatically.
“I knew this day would come.”
“You sing,” Regulus insisted.
From the armchair, Orion’s mouth twitched.
Walburga’s eyes gleamed faintly.
James blinked. “Sing?”
Remus looked deeply interested.
Regulus bounced slightly in place.
“You sing and dance.”
“I do not dance.”
“You DO.”
“You’re slandering me in my own home.”
Regulus stomped one tiny fleece foot.
“Princess frog!”
Sirius sighed like a martyr preparing for sacrifice.
“Fine.”
Regulus gasped in triumph.
Sirius pushed himself up off the floor, snagged the remote, and switched the app over to Disney+. A few clicks later, the opening sequence began.
The room filled with warm orchestral music.
Regulus immediately scrambled back onto the sofa, practically climbing Walburga to get comfortable. He tucked himself into her side, blanket dragged over his lap, eyes glued to the screen.
When the first song started, he twisted around to look at Sirius expectantly.
“Well?” he demanded.
Sirius crossed his arms.
“I’m not performing for an audience.”
“You are absolutely performing,” James said.
“You have no choice,” Lily added.
Regulus’s lower lip trembled slightly.
“Siiiwus.”
There it was.
That look.
Walburga made a soft noise under her breath. “Oh, do stop pretending.”
Orion added mildly, “You enjoy it.”
Sirius glared at them both.
“I do not.”
“Mm,” Walburga said.
The song swelled.
Sirius lasted all of twenty seconds.
Then he started singing.
Not quietly, either.
Full voice. Dramatic. Gesturing wildly toward the imaginary skyline.
James collapsed sideways in hysterics.
“Oh my god.”
Sirius snapped his fingers in rhythm, stepped forward, and did an exaggerated spin that nearly took out a lamp.
Regulus burst into laughter.
Not polite giggles.
Full-bodied, wheezing, delighted laughter.
He kicked his little feet against the sofa cushions, claws flapping uselessly.
“Again!” he squealed.
“It’s the same song,” Sirius said.
“Again!”
Sirius rolled his eyes and launched into the chorus with even more flair, dipping low and sliding across the rug on his knees.
Mary was crying.
Remus was recording.
Fabian clutched Gideon’s arm. “He’s actually good.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Sirius warned mid-lyric.
Regulus was cackling now, tiny hands clapping against the blanket.
Walburga watched with a soft, private smile.
Orion leaned back, arms folded, gaze warm despite himself.
Sirius pointed dramatically at Regulus during a high note.
“This is YOUR fault.”
Regulus beamed.
“Wuv you!”
The room melted again.
Sirius faltered for half a second, then recovered with an overly dramatic bow at the end of the song.
Regulus cheered like he’d just witnessed a stadium performance.
“More!”
“After nuggets,” Sirius bargained.
Regulus considered this.
“Okay.”
He settled back into Walburga’s side, breathing slightly heavier now from laughing.
Walburga kissed the top of his head.
“My little tyrant,” she murmured fondly.
Regulus yawned.
Fever and excitement were wrestling for control.
On the rug, Sirius flopped onto his back again, chest rising and falling dramatically.
“I deserve compensation.”
“You live here rent-free,” Orion said calmly.
Sirius propped himself up on his elbows.
“And yet, oppressed.”
Walburga laughed softly.
Regulus blinked at the screen, then at Sirius.
“Dance later?”
Sirius met his eyes.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Later.”
And from the armchair, Orion and Walburga exchanged the smallest, most satisfied look.
The film rolled on in bright colour and brass-heavy music, New Orleans spilling out across the television in warm gold and river-blue.
Sirius did not sit down again.
He lasted through one number sprawled dramatically across the rug, mouthing half the lyrics with exaggerated disdain, but the moment the next song swelled—soft, romantic, ridiculous—Regulus shifted upright on the sofa.
“Siiiwus,” he demanded.
Sirius turned slowly.
“No.”
Regulus held his arms out.
Not a tantrum. Not a whine.
Just trust.
Sirius stood.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, but he crossed the room anyway.
He scooped Regulus up carefully—one arm under his back, the other under his legs. The fleece dinosaur hood flopped sideways as Regulus immediately curled in, small hands bunching into Sirius’s hoodie.
He was warm. Too warm still.
Sirius adjusted his grip instinctively.
“Comfortable?”
Regulus nodded against his shoulder.
The music swelled.
Sirius began to sway.
Not the dramatic, knee-sliding theatrics from earlier. No spins. No wild gestures. Just a slow, exaggerated ballroom step across the carpet.
He sang, softer this time.
Clear. Tuneful. Slightly smug.
James stared.
“He’s actually romantic about it.”
“Shut up,” Sirius muttered mid-lyric.
Regulus’s cheek rested against Sirius’s collarbone. He watched the screen over Sirius’s shoulder, eyes half-lidded but glowing.
“Spin,” he whispered.
“You’re sick.”
“Little spin.”
Sirius huffed.
“One.”
He turned slowly in a careful circle, holding Regulus tight and steady. No reckless swinging. No tipping him backward. Just a gentle turn.
Regulus giggled.
“Again.”
“No.”
“Please.”
Sirius sighed and did one more, even slower.
Walburga watched from the sofa, chin propped on her hand, eyes soft.
Orion noticed.
“You’re smiling,” he murmured.
“He’s being sweet.”
“He’s always sweet.”
“Not like this.”
On screen, the song crescendoed.
Sirius shifted Regulus higher on his hip and continued swaying, stepping lightly around the coffee table like it was a ballroom floor.
Regulus’s small hand rested against Sirius’s chest.
“You sing loud,” he observed.
“I know.”
“Good loud.”
Sirius’s mouth twitched.
Behind them, the doorbell rang.
None of the teenagers moved.
Walburga rose smoothly.
“I’ll get it.”
Sirius kept singing, slower now, voice dipping with the rhythm. Regulus’s eyes drifted closed for a few seconds, then reopened when the next upbeat number began.
“Up one!” he insisted suddenly.
Sirius barked a laugh. “You’re bossy.”
“Up!”
He lifted Regulus a few inches higher, enough to make him squeal.
Across the room, Walburga reappeared with two large delivery bags and a smaller one balanced on her wrist.
The smell hit instantly.
Salt. Fried batter. Sweet milkshake.
The entire room straightened.
“Oh thank god,” Fabian breathed.
Walburga moved with calm efficiency, placing bags on the dining table.
“James,” she called lightly. “Collect your order before you start climbing the furniture.”
James was already halfway there.
She began distributing meals like a general assigning rations.
“One each. Don’t mix them.”
Boxes, cups, paper bags passed from hand to hand. Fries rustled. Straws pierced lids. Gratitude spilled out in overlapping waves.
“Thank you, Mrs. Black.”
“This is insane.”
“You’re a saint.”
She acknowledged them with a polite nod and a faint smile.
Then she opened the largest bag.
Regulus’s.
She did not blink at the volume.
She laid everything out carefully on the coffee table—nuggets in their box, fries emptied neatly into their carton, burgers unwrapped just enough for easy grabbing. Sauces arranged in a small semicircle. Apple pies stacked. Two milkshakes placed within reach but not quite yet handed over.
She poured his juice into a cup with a lid.
When she finished, it looked less like a meal and more like a festival.
Sirius was still swaying when he caught sight of it.
He stopped mid-lyric.
“Jesus Christ.”
Regulus twisted to look.
His entire face lit up.
“NUGGET.”
Sirius laughed.
“Alright, alright.”
He carried him back to the sofa and lowered him gently beside the spread.
Regulus immediately reached for a nugget with intense focus.
“Slowly,” Walburga warned softly.
Regulus dipped it into an alarming amount of sauce and took a bite.
His shoulders relaxed visibly.
“There we go,” Orion murmured.
Sirius collapsed onto the rug again, grabbing his own bag and stealing a fry before even sitting up properly.
“See?” he said around a mouthful. “He’ll eat like three things.”
Regulus heard this and scowled.
He grabbed a mozzarella stick defiantly.
“You wrong.”
“Prove it.”
Regulus bit into it with determination.
Cheese stretched.
The room cheered.
Walburga handed him his milkshake, holding the cup steady while he sipped through the straw.
A smear of sauce dotted his cheek.
Orion reached over and wiped it away with his thumb.
“Messy dinosaur.”
Regulus hummed contentedly.
Sirius leaned back on his elbows, watching him.
Tired. Feverish. Wrapped in fleece. Surrounded by food he’d demanded like a tiny emperor.
And smiling.
On the television, another song began.
Regulus looked at Sirius with sauce-slicked fingers.
“After eat,” he said seriously, “you dance again.”
Sirius groaned theatrically.
Walburga smirked.
Orion hid a smile behind his drink.
And Regulus, mouth full of nugget, beamed like he’d already won.