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The fire crackled softly in the cozy living room, filling the space with a golden warmth. Shadows flickered lazily across the walls, stretching and shrinking with every shift of the flames. The scent of burning wood mixed with something sweet, probably the leftover cocoa from earlier, still lingering in the air.
On the soft and wide playmat near the coffee table, little Harry Potter was deeply focused on his latest masterpiece. A carefully stacked tower of colorful wooden blocks with numbers on it. His tiny hands worked with great concentration, tongue peeking out as he carefully placed another block on top.
It didn’t matter to him that the numbers weren’t in order. In fact, he didn’t pay much attention to that. The entire goal here was to make a tall tower.
For a moment, the tower stood tall. It looked sturdy.
This time, Harry would succeed.
The boy sucked in a breath and placed the block slow and steady. He held his breath. The tower trembled slightly.
Then plop the whole thing wobbled and tumbled to the ground.
Harry blinked at the fallen blocks. He pursed his lips in deep contemplation, as if deciding whether this was a minor inconvenience or a grave injustice. Should he rebuild or throw a massive tantrum?
Such important decisions for a toddler to make.
His little hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. His eyes darted toward his parents. He knew they would help if he asked.
But they weren’t looking at him.
James and Regulus were curled up together on the couch, wrapped up in their own world. James had an arm lazily thrown over Regulus’ shoulders, twirling strands of curly, black hair between his fingers, a soft grin on his face. Regulus, in turn, leaned into him, his body relaxed and comfortable against James.
Harry watched his parents, eyes narrowing and lips turning into a frown.
Then, as he reached for a new block to try again, he saw James pressing a kiss to Regulus’ temple.
Harry’s tiny fingers froze.
His little brows pinched together.
Daddy was kissing his Papa.
Harry scowled and turned back to his blocks, determined to ignore them. He had important work to do. He was going to build the biggest tower ever. Taller than anything! Maybe even taller than Daddy!
With a newfound motivation, he carefully stacked one block.
Then another. And another.
“Mm, I love you so much,” James murmured, voice all warm and happy.
Harry’s block slipped from his hand a bit.
His grip tightened.
Regulus made a quiet, amused noise. “I would hope so,” he playfully murmured back.
James only hummed, shifting so he could press his lips along Regulus’ neck. “You smell nice,” he mused between kisses.
Harry’s fingers squeezed the block in his hands.
A weird, twisty feeling curled in his chest.
Papa did smell nice. But he was Harry’s Papa.
He stacked another block.
Regulus closed his eyes, his voice soft. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
Harry squinted at them, his tiny hands gripping the next block so tight that his knuckles turned white. He squished it between his fingers like it was a stress toy.
James nuzzled closer. “Lies.”
Harry’s face scrunched up.
His belly felt hot.
His chest felt itchy.
He plopped a block down harder than necessary.
James and Regulus were still smiling at each other, still whispering, still not paying attention to their child.
Regulus turned toward James, an amused smirk playing at his lips. “Is it now?”
James grinned, leaning in, noses brushing. “Absolutely.”
Harry glared at them.
He forgot about his blocks. He forgot about his tower.
CRASH!
Harry heard a loud sound indicating that the whole tower collapsed again, blocks scattering in every direction.
Harry snapped.
His little hands balled into fists.
His cheeks turned pink.
“'tupid bwocks,” he muttered with a little lisp, voice full of frustration.
He kicked at the fallen tower, forlorn that he wasn’t able to achieve his goal.
And then the twisty feeling inside him exploded.
He stomped his foot and, in a burst of accidental magic, he disappeared.
A soft pop filled the air, and within seconds, Harry reappeared right between James and Regulus, unceremoniously shoving James backward with a surprising force for a three year old.
James let out a surprised "Oof!" as he toppled back against the arm of the couch, his limbs flailing slightly. His glasses slid down his nose, and he barely caught himself before tumbling onto the floor.
"What the—?!"
He blinked in disbelief, staring at the small force that had just barreled into them and disrupted their cozy moment.
Harry wasted no time. With all the determination of a tiny warrior, he twisted around and threw his arms around Regulus’ neck, gripping tight as though he could fuse them together by sheer willpower. His little fingers curled into the soft fabric of Regulus’ sweater, and he buried his face right into his Papa’s chest with a stubborn huff.
“My Papa.”
Regulus, momentarily startled, looked down at the little boy currently wrapped around him like an overly possessive baby koala. He blinked once. Then twice.
James, meanwhile, was still sprawled against the couch arm, looking like someone had just thrown a bludger at his head.
“Did... did he just apparate to steal you from me?!” James finally sputtered, shoving his glasses up his nose in pure disbelief.
Regulus hummed, one hand instinctively coming up to rub soothing circles on Harry’s back. He felt the small, warm body trembling ever so slightly. Not in fear, but in pure, toddler-sized frustration.
"It would seem so," Regulus mused, his voice filled with quiet amusement. His fingers carded through Harry’s unruly curls, smoothing them down gently and untangling some knots.
James groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son." He pointed an accusing finger at Harry, who only curled tighter around Regulus, entirely unbothered. "Listen here, Prongslet, your Papa was mine first."
Harry peeked up from the safety of Regulus’ arms, his green eyes flashing with fierce determination.
"No." He stated, lips forming an adorable pout.
James gaped at him. "What do you mean, ‘no’?!"
“No!” The toddler repeated, voice a little whiny.
Harry wasn’t going to let Daddy steal Papa. He simply burrowed deeper into Regulus’ embrace, pressing his cheek against his Papa’s chest with a little satisfied sigh, and looked back at his Daddy as if to say, I have won this battle, and you cannot change my mind.
Regulus, thoroughly entertained, adjusted Harry slightly so he could settle him more comfortably against his chest. He ran a slow, reassuring hand down his son’s back, feeling the tiny tremors of frustration start to ease now that he was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Oh, mon trésor,” Regulus murmured, his voice soft and knowing. “Are you feeling jealous?”
Harry huffed.
“Were you feeling left out, mon bébé?” Regulus asked, as his lips twitched. He pressed a kiss to Harry’s curls, his heart melting at the way Harry only clung tighter in response.
James groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "My love, you’re supposed to be on my side here."
Regulus smirked, tilting his head slightly in amusement. "Oh? But I rather like being fought over. Makes me feel special."
James clutched his chest dramatically, his face twisted in exaggerated heartbreak. "Et tu, Reggie?"
Harry didn’t understand the reference, but he did understand the tone. He made a small, victorious noise, like a baby dragon content with its hoard, and tightened his grip on Regulus' sweater for good measure.
James let out a long-suffering sigh before finally reaching out, ruffling Harry’s messy hair with an affectionate hand. "Alright, fine. I suppose I can share."
Harry blinked sleepily at him, his earlier fire of jealousy fading as warmth and drowsiness crept in. He let out a tiny yawn, his little fingers flexing against Regulus’ sweater before relaxing slightly. His voice was softer now, thick with sleep.
“Daddy mine too,” he murmured.
James stilled. His hand paused mid-motion against Harry’s hair. His expression shifted from theatrical betrayal to something infinitely softer, utterly smitten. He swallowed, his heart swelling.
“Well,” he murmured, voice warm and full, “I guess I can’t be mad at that.”
Regulus smiled, watching the way James gazed at their son like he held the entire universe in his tiny hands. With a gentle movement, he pulled James closer, shifting just enough so James could lean against his shoulder, completing their little huddle on the couch.
James exhaled, relaxing into them, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Harry’s head and another to Regulus’ lips.
Regulus traced light, soothing patterns over Harry’s back, his other hand slipping into James’ without a second thought. He squeezed once, gentle and sure.
The fire crackled, casting golden light over them, wrapping them in warmth. Outside, the wind whispered against the window panes, a quiet lullaby to the cozy moment happening inside.
And as the night stretched on, the three of them curled up together—safe, content, and completely, irrevocably loved.
Regulus thought he belonged to them as much as they belonged to him, and there was no magic in the world stronger than that.