Forever You
Forever you
Lee is cursed with immortality, and he finds Y/N's reincarnation every time.
Vampire!Lee x Reincarnation!Reader
words: 3.5k
warning: mentions of death, blood, m*rder, reincarnation, abuse , war (brief)
note: school is taking up my time. Unedited
find more here: masterlist
It was the year 1060, the village sat on the edge of a dense forest, untouched by war but not by whispers of creatures that lurked in the dark. Lee had no business here, yet he found himself drawn to the small stone hut at the heart of it.
A storm had rolled in, and with it, the gnawing hunger he had grown to hate. He needed to leave before he did something unforgivable. But then, the door to the hut creaked open, and she stood there—Y/N, her lantern’s glow illuminating wide, cautious eyes.
“You look half-dead,” she remarked, stepping forward.
He nearly laughed at the irony. “I suppose I do.”
“Come inside before you freeze.”
She wasn’t afraid of him—not when he stumbled in with wounds that should have killed any normal man, nor when his skin remained ice-cold even by the fire. She asked no questions, only tending to him as her mother once had for wounded knights.
Over the weeks, Lee stayed close. He helped gather wood, watched her mix herbs, and listened to her hum old songs that stirred something ancient in him. Y/N was kind, but sharp-witted, never failing to call out his silences.
“You always look like you’re carrying a burden.”
He glanced at her, stirring the pot over the fire. “Maybe I am.”
“Well,” she huffed, leaning against the table. “You should set it down every once in a while.”
It happened by the river. The sun was dipping below the trees, setting the sky on fire. Y/N stood barefoot on the bank, watching the water swirl between her toes.
“You’re staring.”
Lee blinked. “Am I?”
She turned to face him fully, something unreadable in her gaze. “You always do.”
Before he could think, she reached for him, fingers curling in the fabric of his tunic. When she kissed him, it was nothing like the hesitant, fleeting gestures of courtly lovers. It was warmth, life, the taste of honey and herbs.
For the first time in centuries, Lee felt human again.
The night was still, but Lee knew danger when he felt it. He woke to the scent of blood, not Y/N’s, but the slaughtered lamb outside the hut. A warning.
He knew he couldn’t keep this from her any longer.
That night, he found her sitting by the fire, waiting for him. Her eyes followed him as he paced, struggling with the words.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, voice low.
She curled a brow. “Oh? You’re secretly a nobleman? Or—gods forbid—a bard?”
He almost smiled, but the weight of the truth held him back. “I’m not… like you, Y/N. I haven’t been for a long time.”
She tilted her head, curious but unafraid. “Go on.”
He took a breath, then met her gaze. “I don’t age. I don’t die—not in the way humans do. I… survive on blood.”
The silence stretched between them. Then, to his utter shock, she smirked. “You’re not about to tell me you sparkle in the sunlight, are you?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You know,” she waved. “Shimmering skin, brooding forever, that sort of thing.”
Despite himself, a laugh escaped him. “No. I avoid the sun because it weakens me, not because I… glisten.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “So, are you going to eat me?”
His amusement faded. “Never.”
She studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Good. Then I see no reason to be afraid.”
“You should be,” he murmured. “You don’t understand what I am.”
“I understand enough,” she said, softer this time. “You’re Lee. You help me gather wood, you listen to my terrible singing, and you burn the stew when I let you cook. That’s enough for me.”
They stayed together after that. Y/N made jokes about his brooding and inhuman coldness, but she never feared him. They danced under the moonlight, shared whispered stories between breaths, and Lee let himself love without fear for the first time in his immortal life.
But time was cruel.
Sickness took her slowly. Lee tried everything; fetched herbs, stole medicines, pleaded to gods he didn’t believe in. Nothing stopped the inevitable.
“Stay,” she whispered, voice weak in the flickering candlelight.
Lee clutched her hand, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you,” he swore. “Every time.”
And as her last breath left her lips, Lee sat in silence, knowing this was only the beginning of his endless search for her.
He wandered for years, waiting for the pull, for the feeling deep in his bones that would lead him back to her. And then he found her again. Different life, different name—but it was her. It was always her.
He never told her, not at first. He let her fall in love with him the way she always did—slowly, sweetly, as if for the first time. But the truth always came out. Sometimes she laughed when she learned what he was. Sometimes she was afraid. But always, in every life, she stayed.
And always, in every life, she left him in the end.
And still, he searched.
The year was 1300s and this time he found her in the bustling market square, the scent of fresh bread and spices filling the air, the chatter of merchants blending into a steady hum. But it was her laughter that cut through the noise, clear and familiar, sending a shiver down his spine.
He knew her the moment he saw her. He always did.
For two days, he followed at a careful distance, watching the way she moved, how she spoke with ease, and how she tossed a playful remark to the baker’s apprentice. He wanted to approach, but how could he? How did one explain centuries of longing?
It was she who finally ended his hesitation. Spinning on her heel in a narrow alleyway, she caught him lingering in her shadow.
“Are you following me?” she demanded, hands on her hips. Her sharp stare knocked the breath from his lungs. It was her, through and through—that stubborn courage, that fire he had loved before.
“I was hoping to talk to you,” Lee admitted, voice low, almost reverent.
She raised an eyebrow. “Then speak.”
And somehow, he found himself walking her home that evening, conversation flowing as if they had known each other forever. In a way, they had.
Lee learned that Y/N was headstrong, witty, and too clever for her good. She spoke of faraway places with longing, of adventure and stories that she dreamed of living by herself. She was restless in this life, much like she had been before, though she didn’t yet know why.
He became her shadow, not out of fear but out of need. He couldn’t leave her, not again. He helped carry baskets when she let him, stole apples from carts to hear her gasp in feigned disapproval, and listened to her hum old songs that stirred something ancient in his chest.
“You don’t talk much,” she mused one evening as they sat by the river.
“I talk when it matters.”
“And when does it matter?”
He looked at her then, the last light of the sun catching in her hair. “When it’s with you.”
The spring festival soon came with laughter, dancing, and the scent of blooming flowers. Y/N had dragged him into the square despite his protests, her hand warm in his as she spun them into the crowd. The music was fast, the world around them a blur, but Lee only saw her—her flushed cheeks, the way she bit her lip when she laughed.
When the dancing ended, they stumbled out of the crowd, breathless. Lanterns glowed above them, flickering light casting golden patterns on her face. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and kissed him.
It was sudden, impulsive, her laughter still on her lips when she kissed him again.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured against her mouth.
She grinned. “Then why are you still here?”
Because I always am, he thought, but he only kissed her in response.
Summer turned to autumn, and as the leaves fell, so did the last of his resolve. He had to tell her. He owed her that much.
They sat by the fire in her family’s home, the warmth doing nothing for the chill in his bones. Y/N watched him, something unreadable in her gaze, as if she already knew.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he began. His hands clenched into fists. “Something about what I am.”
Y/N tilted her head. “You say that like you’re about to confess to murder.”
His silence stretched too long.
She blinked. “Lee?”
“I’m not human.” The words felt heavy, final. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
She studied him, quiet for a moment, before crossing her arms. “You’re not about to tell me you’re some kind of… what do they call them—creature of the night, are you?”
He let out a breath. “Something like that.”
To his utter shock, she only smirked. “You’re not going to start lurking in dark corners and calling me ‘mortal one,’ are you?”
He stared. “What?”
“I mean, if you start hissing at garlic, I might reconsider our whole relationship.”
Despite himself, he laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me.”
“Yes,” he said, softer this time. “I do.”
She reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Good. Because I know who you are now. And I don’t care.”
They spent that autumn wrapped in each other, in whispered words and secret smiles. She asked him endless questions—what it was like to live forever, if he had met kings, if he missed the taste of food.
“I don’t remember the taste,” he admitted one night, tracing patterns on her bare shoulder.
“That’s tragic,” she murmured. “I’d die if I couldn’t have honey cakes.”
He chuckled. “You say that as if you haven’t eaten five today.”
She gasped, shoving him playfully. “How dare you keep count?”
“I can’t help it. You get this look—like a fox that just stole from the henhouse.”
She laughed, burying her face against his chest. “Maybe in my next life, I’ll be a baker.”
He smiled, but the words sat heavy in his heart. There would always be a next life. And she would always leave him behind.
The winter was cruel.
She fell ill not long after the first snowfall. It started with a cough, then a fever that wouldn’t break. Lee tried everything; stole medicine, bribed healers, prayed to gods he didn’t believe in. Nothing worked.
He held her through the fevered nights, whispering stories she had loved, pressing cool clothes to her burning skin. He stayed when her strength faded, when her voice turned to a whisper.
One morning, just before dawn, she stirred. Her fingers curled weakly around his, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“Lee?”
“I’m here.”
Her lips parted in the faintest of smiles. Her eyes softened, full of something deep, something knowing. “You’ll find me again,” she murmured.
Tears burned his eyes. He kissed her hand, pressing it to his cheek. “Always.”
And with a final, shuddering breath, she was gone.
Lee sat in silence, holding her long after her body turned cold.
The cycle would begin again. It always did.
And when it did, he would find her.
Because he always did.
It was the 1800s and in this life, she was a noblewoman.
Y/N.
Distant. Unreachable. A vision draped in silks and adorned with jewels, moving through candlelit halls as though she belonged to another world entirely. But Lee had seen her in every world, in every life. And even if she did not remember him, he knew her. He always did.
She was wed to another. A man of power, of wealth, of status. Someone safe. Someone human. Lee had seen him once, standing beside Y/N at a lavish banquet, fingers pressed possessively against the small of her back. It should have been him. It had always been him. But in this life, she did not belong to him.
So he watched from afar.
For months, he lingered in the shadows of her world, a ghost haunting the edges of candlelight. He caught glimpses of her in the garden at dusk, her face turned toward the dying sun. He listened to the sound of her laughter carried on the wind, a cruel reminder of all he had lost before. He kept his distance, even when the ache in his chest became unbearable.
And then he saw the bruises.
Dark, blooming things hidden beneath the high collar of her gown. The way she flinched when her husband reached for her at the next banquet. The hollow look in her eyes that had never been there before.
Lee had always told himself he would never interfere. That she deserved to live these lives as they came, untouched by the monster that lurked in the dark.
But this time, he couldn’t stay away.
He followed the man through the winding streets of the city, footsteps silent on the cobblestone. The nobleman was drunk, swaying as he staggered down a deserted alley, humming a tune that grated on Lee’s nerves. He reeked of wine, of expensive perfume, of cruelty. The kind of man who took pleasure in his power. The kind of man who believed himself untouchable.
Lee stepped out of the shadows.
"Who’s there?" the nobleman slurred, squinting into the darkness.
Lee didn’t speak. He let the silence stretch, watching as unease flickered across the man’s face. Then he moved.
It was over in seconds. A hand around the nobleman's throat, squeezing just hard enough to feel his pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. The man barely had time to gasp before Lee struck, fangs piercing flesh, warm blood spilling over his tongue. It had been so long since he had fed. He had denied himself for so long.
But this kill was not for hunger.
It was for her.
When the man finally went limp, Lee let his body crumple to the ground, blood staining the stone beneath them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but the coppery taste lingered. The taste of vengeance. Of justice.
Then he looked up—and saw her.
Y/N stood at the mouth of the alley, candlelight from the street casting a golden halo around her. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes locked on the lifeless body at Lee’s feet. Then, slowly, she met his gaze.
"You killed him," she murmured.
Lee swallowed, his throat thick with something he couldn’t name. "He hurt you."
She stepped closer, unafraid. "You’re dangerous."
"I am."
She should have run. She should have screamed for the guards. Instead, she looked down at the man who had tormented her for months, the man she had been forced to smile for, to obey, to endure. And then she exhaled a long, shuddering breath, as if some unseen weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
When she looked back at Lee, her eyes were softer. "But you’ve saved me more times than I can count."
Weeks passed, and the rumors of her husband's mysterious disappearance faded into whispers. Y/N remained in the estate, and Lee remained in the shadows, always near, never too far. But this time, he did not watch from a distance.
One evening, beneath a sky heavy with rain, she found him waiting on the balcony of her chambers. The city stretched below them, lanterns flickering against the darkness. The air smelled of wet stone, of lavender, of her.
She stepped closer, the silk of her nightgown whispering against the cool night air. "You always find me."
"Always."
She reached for him then, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw, as if memorizing him for the first time. And then, slowly, deliberately, she kissed him.
It was not rushed, not desperate like their first kisses in other lives. It was steady, filled with understanding. As if she had known him for years rather than weeks. As if, deep down, she had always known.
Lee stayed with her.
As the years passed, he remained by her side, a silent guardian in a world that did not know what he was. He held her at night, pressing kisses to her skin as she murmured dreams of other lives. He traced the lines of her face, memorizing every expression, knowing one day, he would lose her again.
And when time finally caught up to her, when the silver in her hair outnumbered the gold, he never left.
He sat at her bedside when she grew frail, holding her hand, whispering stories from their past. Some she remembered. Some she did not. But she listened all the same, her fingers curled around his, as if afraid to let go.
One night, as the fire burned low in the hearth, she turned to him, eyes heavy with sleep. "Will you find me again?"
Lee pressed his lips to her knuckles, breathing in the last traces of her warmth. "Always."
And when she passed, he kissed her brow one final time before slipping away into the night, the cycle beginning once more.
It was now the 21st century and Lee hadn’t meant to talk to her. He had spent months ensuring that their paths never truly crossed, keeping his distance like he always did.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
It was late, the city washed in a misty drizzle, the glow of neon signs reflecting off the wet pavement. He had been trailing her like always, keeping a careful distance.
Then, without warning, she turned around.
Lee barely had time to react before she was standing before him, eyes bright with something unreadable.
“Hello, Lee.”
His breath caught.
No.
She couldn’t have just—
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
The world tilted.
It took everything in him to stay still, to keep his expression unreadable even as his mind reeled. His name. She had said his name.
She remembered.
For centuries, it had been the other way around—him searching, him finding, him remembering while she moved through life unaware of their past.
But now…
Now, she was the one who had been looking for him.
Lee’s pulse pounded in his ears, though he knew it was just a phantom sensation, a habit leftover from when he had been human.
He forced himself to meet her gaze, searching for some sign that he had misheard. That this was just some cruel coincidence.
But her expression held no doubt. No hesitation. Only quiet certainty.
She knew him.
Truly knew him.
“Say something,” she teased, tilting her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He let out a shaky breath, barely managing a smirk. “Funny. That’s usually my line.”
Her lips quivered in amusement, but her eyes remained steady, waiting.
“How?” Lee finally asked, voice hoarse. “How do you remember?”
She hummed, crossing her arms. “Not all at once. It started as dreams—flashes of things that didn’t belong to this life. You were always there, though.” She smiled softly, like she had finally solved a puzzle that had been plaguing her for years. “Your face was the clearest thing.”
He couldn’t breathe.
For so long, he had carried their past alone. Shouldered the weight of lifetimes of love and loss, knowing she would never share the burden.
But now…
Now, she was standing in front of him, looking at him like she had been waiting for him just as desperately as he had been waiting for her.
“You were watching me,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Every night. Weren’t you?”
Lee stiffened.
Caught.
He should lie. Should tell her she was mistaken. But what was the point? She already knew.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I was.”
She didn’t look surprised.
“Why?”
Lee swallowed, debating how much of the truth he was willing to give her.
Because I couldn’t help myself. Because I’ve lost you too many times. Because I swore I wouldn’t get close, and yet I can’t seem to let you go.
Instead, he settled for, “Old habits die hard.”
Her gaze softened, seeing right through him.
Lee hated how easily she had always been able to do that.
“Will you keep running?” she asked.
The question settled between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long.
Lee had run for centuries—run from getting too close, from the pain of losing her, from the cruel hand of fate that always wrenched them apart.
But this time was different.
This time, she remembered.
And she had been the one searching for him.
He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know.”
Y/N reached out then, her fingers curling around his in a way that felt so natural, so achingly familiar, that it nearly unraveled him.
“Then let me find you,” she said, her grip steady. “For once, let me be the one who stays.”
Lee looked down at their joined hands, at the warmth seeping into his skin.
For the first time in lifetimes, she wasn’t slipping away.
And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to let go.
More Posts from Itsreallynotriri and Others
I ADORE your potter-black family posts. Could you please write something about reader finding out she’s pregnant OR like reader and regulus talking about having another kid and they’re worried about how harry will feel cuz they don’t want him to feel replaced? ILY MUAH
Harry meets Danny
Harry meets his little sister Danny.
[Regulus Black x fem Potter! reader]
word count: 899 words
warnings: fluff, mentions of pregnancy, harry being a cutie patootie
note: I love this prompt so much.
-
The soft glow of candlelight filled the cozy Black-Potter living room, casting flickering shadows along the walls. Outside, snowflakes drifted down like bits of silver confetti, frosting the windows in delicate lace patterns. Y/N sat curled up on the couch, one hand resting on the small but unmistakable curve of her stomach. Across from her, Regulus paced with the anxiety of a man who once battled dark forces but now faced something infinitely more daunting: telling Harry he was going to have a sibling.
"You're going to wear a hole in the rug," Y/N murmured, a smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm trying to figure out the right words," Regulus said, stopping mid-stride. He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. "How do you tell a six-year-old that everything is about to change?"
Y/N patted the cushion beside her. "We tell him with love. And honesty." She tilted her head toward the staircase. "He's probably still awake, you know."
Regulus sighed, resigned, and climbed the stairs. Moments later, he returned, Harry perched sleepily on his hip. The boy's messy black hair stuck out at odd angles, his green eyes blinking in the dim light.
"Mama? Baba?" Harry rubbed his eyes. "Why am I awake?"
Regulus settled Harry between them on the couch. Y/N shifted to face him fully, brushing his hair back fondly.
"We have something important to tell you," she began.
Harry's eyes widened. "Is it bad?"
"No, sweetheart," Y/N said softly. "It's something wonderful." She exchanged a glance with Regulus before taking a breath. "You're going to be a big brother."
Harry froze. He looked from Y/N's belly to Regulus, and then back again. "A brother?"
"Or a sister," Regulus said. "We don't know yet."
Harry's mouth formed a small "o." Silence stretched between them like a fragile thread.
"Are you excited?" Y/N asked, her voice gentle.
Harry's legs swung against the couch. "I dunno. Will you still have time for me?"
Y/N's heart cracked at the uncertainty in his voice. She pulled him into her arms, cradling him tightly. "Oh, my love. There is nothing and no one that could ever replace you. You made us parents. And we will always have time for you. Always."
Harry sniffled into her shoulder. "Promise?"
"I swear it," Y/N said.
Regulus leaned in and kissed the crown of Harry's head. "You'll never be alone, Harry. You'll have us. And you'll have a little brother or sister to protect, to teach...maybe even to prank if you inherit any of your Uncle Sirius's tendencies."
That earned a watery giggle. Harry looked up. "I get to teach them stuff?"
"Absolutely," Y/N said with a smile. "Like how to fly a broom and sneak extra biscuits from the kitchen when Baba isn't looking."
"Oi!" Regulus shot her a look of mock disapproval, but his eyes were warm.
Harry's grin grew. "Okay," he whispered. "I think being a big brother sounds kinda cool."
Y/N pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're going to be the best big brother ever, sweetheart."
That night, after Harry had fallen asleep between them, one hand resting protectively on Y/N's belly, Regulus whispered into the darkness, "He's going to be okay. We're going to be okay."
Y/N laced her fingers with his. "We already are."
-
The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when six-year-old Harry Potter-Black was woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. His wild hair stuck up in every direction as he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the doorway of his bedroom.
His Baba stood there, hair disheveled, an uncharacteristically wide grin on his usually serious face.
"Harry," Regulus whispered, voice thick with emotion. "She's here. Your sister's here."
Harry didn't need any more convincing. He scrambled out of bed, heart racing with excitement. "She's really here?" he asked breathlessly.
Regulus held out his hand, and Harry grabbed it tightly as they padded down the hall toward the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and Harry peeked in.
His Mama was propped up against pillows, hair damp and face glowing with a tired but radiant smile. In her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft, moon-patterned blanket.
"Hi, sweetheart," Y/N whispered as Harry hesitated in the doorway. "Come meet your sister."
Harry crept forward, eyes wide. "She's so small," he breathed, standing on his tiptoes to see better.
"Would you like to hold her?" Y/N asked softly.
Harry's green eyes shot up to hers. "Can I?"
Y/N nodded, shifting slightly as Regulus moved to sit beside her, guiding Harry into the safe space between them. With infinite care, they helped him cradle the tiny baby.
"This is Danica," Y/N said, brushing a gentle finger along the baby's soft cheek. "Danica Potter-Black."
"Danny," Harry whispered, staring at the delicate face. "Hi, Danny. I'm your big brother. I'm gonna take care of you forever."
Danica gave a tiny sigh, her tiny fingers curling into a fist. Harry's heart melted.
"She's like a morning star," he whispered.
Regulus wrapped an arm around his son. "That's exactly what her name means, Harry. Morning star."
Harry beamed. "I love her already."
Y/N felt her heart squeeze with happiness as she met Regulus's gaze over their children's heads. At that moment, their little family felt complete.
-
previous chapter <- -> next chapter
The adventures of Danny and Hazzy
Harry and Danny growing up in the Potter-Black household.
[Regulus Black x fem Potter! reader}
word count: 4.1k
warnings: a lot of fluff, Y/N and Regulus kissing at the end
6 MONTH OLD DANNY AND FOUR-YEAR-OLD HARRY
The Black-Potter household was filled with soft giggles and the occasional delighted squeal. Six-month-old Danica or Danny as Harry fondly called her, sat propped up with pillows on a blanket spread across the living room floor. Her dark curls were already forming wild ringlets, and her bright gray eyes tracked her big brother's every movement.
"Look, Danny! It's a flying hippogriff!" Harry declared, holding a stuffed hippogriff in the air and zooming it around with exaggerated whooshing noises. He had charmed it to hover slightly, the wings flapping as it circled Danny's head.
Danny blinked, then let out a squeal of laughter, her tiny hands reaching up to grasp at the toy. When the hippogriff dipped low enough, she latched on with surprising strength, pulling it down and gnawing on the soft beak with a satisfied coo.
"You're a natural beast-tamer," Harry said, lying down next to her. He tapped her nose gently. "But you can't eat a hippogriff, Danny. That's rude."
Danny babbled in response, releasing the toy to pat Harry's cheek with a slobbery hand. Harry made a dramatic choking sound. "Ah! Baby drool! My one weakness!"
He flopped backward with a groan, limbs sprawled dramatically. Danny stared at him for a moment, then let out a delighted shriek, her tiny body bouncing with excitement.
From the doorway, Y/N and Regulus watched the scene unfold. Y/N's arms were crossed, a smile softening her face. "I give it three seconds before she crawls after him," she whispered.
"Two," Regulus corrected.
As if on cue, Danny tipped forward, arms wobbling as she pushed herself toward her brother. Her movements were clumsy but determined, her little fists digging into the blanket.
"She's doing it!" Y/N breathed.
"Go, Danny!" Regulus encouraged softly.
Harry peeked through one eye when he heard the rustling. His mouth dropped open. "You're crawling!" he gasped, sitting up. "Go, Danny, go!"
Danny let out a gurgling laugh as she reached Harry's knee and promptly face-planted into his leg. Unbothered, she turned her head to grin up at him, her cheeks flushed with effort.
"You're the best little sister ever," Harry said, scooping her into his arms. He stood and turned toward their parents. "Mama! Baba! Did you see? She crawled!"
"We saw, sweetheart," Y/N said, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand.
Regulus stepped forward and ruffled Harry's hair. "Good job, big brother. Looks like she's trying to keep up with you already."
Danny babbled happily from Harry's arms, then stuck her thumb in her mouth and leaned against his chest, suddenly exhausted from her grand adventure.
"She's gonna be unstoppable," Harry said proudly.
Y/N wrapped an arm around Regulus's waist and smiled. "She already is."
TWO-YEAR-OLD DANNY AND FIVE-YEAR-OLD HARRY
The Black-Potter household was rarely quiet these days, not with a curious, toddling two-year-old exploring every corner and a protective big brother trailing after her like a miniature sentry.
"Hazzy!" Danny's delighted voice rang through the sitting room as she toddled across the rug on unsteady legs. Her chubby arms were outstretched toward her brother, who knelt with his arms wide open.
"That's me!" Harry said with a grin, scooping her up and twirling her around. "Hazzy is here to save the day!"
Danny squealed with laughter, her dark curls bouncing with each spin. "Hazzy! Hazzy!"
From the armchair, Y/N smiled over her cup of tea. "Still not calling you Harry, huh?"
"Nope," Harry said, plopping down on the couch with Danny nestled against him. "I've tried to teach her, but she just keeps saying 'Hazzy.'"
"It's cute," Y/N said softly, watching as Danny poked at the buttons on Harry's sweater.
The sound of the front door opening interrupted their moment. Danny's eyes lit up, and she scrambled out of Harry's lap, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Baba!" she cried, sprinting toward the hallway.
"Danny!" Regulus's voice answered with equal enthusiasm.
By the time he entered the room, he had Danny perched on his hip, her tiny hands clinging to his collar. His usually composed expression was softened into a rare, tender smile.
"And how's my little morning star today?" he asked, brushing her curls away from her face.
"Hazzy play!" she announced proudly.
"Ah, yes. The famous Hazzy." Regulus's gray eyes flicked to Harry with a smirk. "How are you handling your new identity, son?"
Harry shrugged. "I've accepted my fate."
Danny giggled and buried her face in Regulus's neck.
"She's been chasing him around all day," Y/N said with a laugh.
"Hazzy run fast," Danny agreed, peeking out with wide grey eyes. "Danny run too!"
"Oh, do you now?" Regulus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, maybe Baba will have to race you later."
"Race!" Danny pumped her fists in the air.
Regulus sat beside Y/N, his arm resting along the back of the couch. Danny squirmed until she was back on the floor, wobbling over to Harry.
"Hazzy, run!" she commanded.
Harry gave his parents an exaggerated sigh. "Duty calls," he said before launching into a playful chase.
Y/N leaned her head on Regulus's shoulder, watching them with a soft smile.
"She's getting so big," she murmured.
"Too big," Regulus agreed. "And that name's going to stick, isn't it?"
"Absolutely," Y/N said, laughing as Harry darted around the coffee table with Danny hot on his heels. "Hazzy's here to stay."
And as Danny's delighted laughter echoed through the house, it was hard to imagine life any other way.
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting golden patterns across the bedroom floor. Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open just as the door creaked. She turned her head and smiled softly at the sight of Harry and Danny standing in the doorway, hand-in-hand.
Harry's chesnut hair stuck up in every direction, defying gravity as usual, while Danny's black curls were tangled into an impressive bird's nest. The two siblings were still in their pajamas: Harry's covered in faded Quidditch brooms, Danny's patterned with tiny moon and stars.
"Hazzy," Danny whispered, tugging on her brother's hand. "Mama wake?"
"Yeah, Danny," Harry reassured her, squeezing her fingers. "See? Mama's awake."
Y/N sat up, tucking the blanket around her legs. "Good morning, my loves," she greeted softly.
Danny beamed, revealing the gap where her front tooth had recently fallen out. "Mama!" She let go of Harry's hand and barreled across the room, climbing clumsily onto the bed. "I had dream 'bout dragon!"
"Did you?" Y/N caught her daughter and pulled her into her lap. "Was it scary?"
Danny shook her head fiercely. "No! Big dragon, nice dragon! Hazzy say it like Uncle Charlie's dragon."
"Ah," Y/N chuckled, glancing toward Harry as he shuffled into the room. "Your brother knows a lot about dragons."
Harry gave a sheepish smile and climbed onto the bed beside them. "I just told her about Norberta," he said, leaning into his mother's side. "Danny likes dragons now."
"I see," Y/N mused, brushing Danny's wild curls with her fingers. "Maybe one day we'll visit Uncle Charlie in Romania and see real dragons."
Danny gasped. "We go? See dragon?"
"One day," Y/N promised.
The sound of footsteps interrupted them. Regulus appeared in the doorway, hair tousled and wand in hand, eyes sharp until he took in the sight before him. "Merlin," he exhaled, lowering his wand. "I thought I heard an intruder."
"Hazzy and Danny," Danny said proudly, throwing her arms wide. "Not 'truder!"
Regulus grinned and crossed the room, sliding his wand into his pajama pocket. "No, you and your brother are definitely not intruders." He sat on the edge of the bed and ruffled Harry's hair, not that it made any difference. "Why are you two up so early?"
"Danny had a dragon dream," Harry answered, tilting his head toward his sister. "Wanted Mama and Baba to know."
Regulus nodded solemnly. "Dreams about dragons are very important. Good thing you told us, Danny."
Danny's eyes sparkled. "I 'member the dragon name!"
"Oh?" Y/N asked. "What's its name, sweetheart?"
Danny scrunched her nose in thought, then declared, "Spork!"
There was a beat of silence before Harry snorted with laughter. "Spork? That's not a dragon name!"
"Is too!" Danny huffed.
"Spork the Dragon," Regulus said with mock seriousness. "A fearsome creature is known across the land for its...sporkiness."
Harry collapsed into giggles, and Danny clapped her hands in delight. Y/N just shook her head fondly. "You're encouraging her."
"Absolutely," Regulus said, reaching out to pull Y/N closer. "She gets her creativity from you."
Danny snuggled into Y/N's lap, thumb slipping into her mouth as the excitement wore off. Harry stretched and leaned against Regulus's shoulder.
"Family nap?" Y/N suggested.
"Family nap," Regulus agreed, flicking his wand to dim the sunlight.
Soon, tangled curls and messy hair were nestled together in a cozy, sleepy pile of warmth and love.
The snow had fallen thick and heavy overnight, blanketing the Black-Potter garden in a pristine, shimmering layer of white. From the warmth of the living room, three-year-old Danica Potter-Black pressed her nose against the frosted window, her wide gray eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Hazzy! Hazzy!" she squealed, spinning around and racing toward her brother. Her curls bounced wildly with each step. "Look! Snow! Lots and lots!"
Harry, now seven years old and quite proud of his 'big brother' status, looked up from the enchanted chessboard where his pieces were grumbling about his last move. He followed her pointing finger to the window and grinned. "You wanna go build a snowman?"
"Yes! Yes! Snowman!" Danny clapped her hands, hopping in place.
"Okay, okay! Let's get our coats."
The two of them bundled up under Y/N's watchful eye. Harry wriggled into his green scarf while Danny impatiently thrust her tiny arms into her puffy coat. Her mittens dangled from strings through the sleeves, and Harry helped her tug them on properly.
"Be careful out there, you two," Y/N called from the door. "And don't eat the snow unless you're sure it's clean!"
"Mama!" Danny giggled. "I'm not gonna eat snow!"
"We'll be careful!" Harry promised.
The garden was a winter wonderland. Their boots crunched on the fresh snow, and their breath clouded in the crisp air. Harry immediately started rolling a ball for the base of their snowman. Danny tried to mimic him, but her ball mostly crumbled.
"Hazzy," she pouted, "mine's not workin'."
"Here, like this." Harry knelt beside her, guiding her hands to press the snow gently and roll it across the ground. "See?"
"Ooooh! I do it!" Danny's face lit up as her snowball grew.
Together, they built a lopsided but proud snowman. Danny insisted he needed a 'silly face,' so Harry found sticks for the arms while she stuck stones into the snow in a haphazard grin. Harry placed his own scarf around its neck and stepped back. "What do you think?"
Danny squinted critically at their creation. "Hazzy, he's cold."
"Well...yeah," Harry said, puzzled. "He's a snowman."
"Needs a hat," she declared. "For warm!"
"Okay, let's get one."
The door opened before they reached the house. Regulus stood there, holding a knitted hat with a bemused expression. "I heard we have a cold snowman in need of a hat?"
"Baba!" Danny ran to him, wrapping her arms around his leg. "We made a snowman! Hazzy helped!"
"I saw," Regulus said, placing the hat on her head for a moment before transferring it to the snowman's icy head. "Looks like a very happy snowman."
Danny beamed and turned back to the snowman. "Now he's warm," she said with satisfaction.
Harry ruffled her hair. "Good job, Snow Queen."
Danny giggled, reaching for a handful of snow. Without warning, she flung it at Harry. It splattered against his coat.
"Oh, you're in for it now!" Harry scooped up snow in both hands.
Screaming with laughter, Danny tried to dodge but ended up flat on her back in the snow, her curls dusted white. "Hazzy! Noooo!"
Regulus shook his head with a smile, leaning against the doorframe as his children tumbled about in the snow. Y/N appeared beside him, slipping her hand into his.
"They're growing up so fast," she murmured.
"They are," Regulus agreed, squeezing her fingers. "But right now, they're exactly where they should be."
A snowball suddenly splattered against Regulus's chest. He looked down in shock to find Danny standing there, cheeks pink with cold and triumph.
"Baba!" she shrieked with glee.
Y/N burst into laughter as Regulus grabbed a handful of snow and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you started it now, little star."
The snowy battle that followed became a memory they'd cherish for years to come.
FOUR-YEAR-OLD DANY AND EIGHT-YEAR-OLD HARRY
The Black-Potter household was quiet, the warm glow of the hearth casting faint shadows along the walls. Outside, the moon hung low in the sky, bathing the snowy ground in silver light. Inside, however, two little figures shuffled across the carpeted hallway, their steps careful and hushed.
"Shh, Danny," whispered eight-year-old Harry, glancing back at his sister. "You're being loud."
"I'm not!" Danny pouted, her black curls bouncing as she clutched her stuffed dragon tightly. "Hazzy, my feet are just squeaky."
Harry stifled a laugh. "Okay, just...less squeaky feet, alright?"
Danny nodded solemnly and adjusted her grip on her dragon. Together, they tiptoed toward the kitchen.
The kitchen door creaked as Harry slowly pushed it open. He froze, holding his breath. Danny copied him, her wide eyes fixed on his face. After a long moment of silence, they exchanged triumphant grins and slipped inside.
"Alright," Harry whispered, "the cookies should be in the blue tin."
Danny squinted at the counter. "That's really high," she said, voice heavy with skepticism.
"That's why we have teamwork," Harry declared, dragging a chair across the floor with a low screech. They both winced, then stared at the doorway. No footsteps. No Baba with his scary frown. No Mama with her disappointed head shake.
Harry climbed onto the chair, balancing with practiced ease. "Okay," he murmured, stretching toward the cookie tin. His fingers brushed the lid. "Almost...got it..."
Danny watched, her dragon tucked under her arm, her curls falling in her face. "Hazzy, careful!"
"I'm fine," Harry assured her. With a final stretch, he snagged the tin and pulled it toward him.
The tin wobbled. Harry's heart stopped. The container tilted and tumbled off the edge.
"No!" Danny gasped.
Harry lunged and caught it mid-air. "Ha! Got it!"
Danny clapped her hands silently. "You're the bestest," she whispered.
Harry hopped down and opened the tin. The rich scent of chocolate-chip cookies drifted into the air. "Okay, Danny, take one."
Danny's eyes lit up as she reached in and grabbed the biggest cookie she could find. Harry took one for himself, then replaced the lid and carefully slid the tin under the table.
They turned toward the door just as the kitchen light snapped on.
"And what do we have here?"
The siblings froze mid-chew.
Regulus Black stood in the doorway, arms crossed, dark hair mussed from sleep. His grey eyes were sharp, but his lips twitched at the corners.
Danny let out a muffled squeak and ducked behind Harry. "Uh-oh," she whispered.
"Uh-oh is right," Regulus said, stepping forward. "Midnight cookie thieves, I see."
"We're not thieves," Harry said quickly. "We're...we're taste testers."
"Yeah," Danny piped up, peeking around Harry. "Mama said cookies gotta be tasted."
Regulus arched a brow. "Did she?"
Harry gulped. "Well, not these cookies. But...cookies in general."
"Mmm." Regulus knelt down so he was eye-level with them. "Do taste testers usually sneak around in the dark?"
"Only when it's a secret mission," Danny whispered.
Regulus pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. "Well, in that case," he said softly, "I guess you'll need a lookout next time."
Harry's mouth fell open. "Wait...you're not mad?"
"Oh, I'm mad," Regulus said, though his voice lacked any bite. "But I'll let it slide this time. Now, off to bed, you two."
"Yes, Baba," they chorused.
As he herded them back to their rooms, Regulus glanced up and met Y/N's amused gaze from the top of the stairs.
"Told you they'd go for the cookies," she whispered.
"You set us up!" Harry exclaimed.
Danny gasped. "Mama!"
Y/N laughed softly. "What can I say? I know my little cookie monsters." She leaned down to kiss the tops of their heads. "Now, go to sleep. We'll discuss your sneaky skills in the morning."
As Harry and Danny shuffled into their rooms, Regulus smiled to himself. Nights like these made every sleep-deprived morning worth it.
FIVE-YEAR-OLD DANNY AND NINE-YEAR-OLD HARRY
The Black-Potter household was rarely quiet, especially with an energetic four-year-old like Danny and a lively eight-year-old like Harry running about. Laughter, footsteps racing down hallways, and the occasional magical mishap filled the air with a warmth that made Grimmauld Place feel more like home than it ever had before. But today, the usual harmony was broken by the sharp crack of a slammed door.
"You're mean, Hazzy!" Danny's tiny voice, thick with tears, echoed down the hall.
Harry stood frozen just outside his bedroom door, his chest tight with guilt. Moments ago, they'd been playing with his toy broomstick. Danny had begged for a turn, but Harry had refused, insisting she was too little and would just break it. When she'd tried to grab it anyway, he'd snapped at her.
"You're just a baby," he'd said. "You don't know how to fly right."
The words had hit harder than any hex. Danny's face had crumpled, her big gray eyes filling with tears. Then she'd run to her room and slammed the door, leaving Harry with the broomstick in his hands and regret in his heart.
From downstairs, Y/N heard the door slam and exchanged a knowing look with Regulus, who was levitating a stack of books onto a high shelf.
"Sounds like trouble," she said.
"Sounds like our children," Regulus replied, lowering the last book into place. "Shall I play the terrifying father figure?"
Y/N arched an eyebrow. "Terrifying? You?"
"I was once a Death Eater."
"Mm-hmm," she said, amused. "Why don't you try the compassionate father figure instead?"
"I'll give it my best shot," Regulus said, following her up the stairs.
They found Harry slumped against the wall outside Danny's door, twirling the toy broom in his hands. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his remorse.
"Rough day, kiddo?" Y/N asked gently as she crouched beside him.
Harry's bottom lip jutted out slightly, though he tried to hide it. "I made Danny cry."
Regulus sat down on Harry's other side. "Yeah, we heard," he said softly. "Want to tell us what happened?"
"She wanted to fly my broom," Harry mumbled. "I said no because she's little. And then she tried to take it anyway, and I... I said she was a baby."
Y/N winced. "Ah," she said. "Calling your sister a baby? That'll sting."
"She is a baby," Harry muttered, but even he didn't sound convinced.
"She doesn't see it that way," Regulus said. "She looks up to you, Harry. She wants to do what you do. Be like you. So when you said she was a baby, she probably felt like...you thought she wasn't good enough."
Harry's eyes widened. "I didn't mean that."
"I know," Regulus reassured him. "But sometimes, what we say doesn't match what we feel."
Y/N brushed Harry's hair back fondly. "Being a big brother is hard sometimes. You have to find a way to teach her without making her feel small."
"So...what do I do now?" Harry asked.
"Start with an apology," Y/N said.
Harry took a deep breath, then knocked on Danny's door. "Danny? Can I come in?"
There was a long silence. Then a muffled "Go 'way."
"Please?" Harry tried again. "I'm really sorry. I was mean, and I didn't mean to be."
The door creaked open an inch. One gray eye peeked through the gap.
"You called me a baby," Danny said, voice wobbly.
"I know," Harry said, his heart aching at the sight of her tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry. You're not a baby. You're my sister, and you're really brave and smart. I was just scared you'd fall and get hurt."
Danny opened the door a bit more. "You scared for me?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "'Cause I love you."
Danny's lips trembled. Then, with a tiny sniff, she launched herself at Harry, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I love you too, Hazzy," she mumbled into his shirt.
From their spot down the hall, Y/N and Regulus exchanged smiles.
"Think they'll remember this the next time they fight?" Y/N asked softly.
"Not a chance," Regulus replied with a chuckle. "But we'll be here to remind them."
And as Harry pulled Danny into his room to give her a broomstick-flying lesson, the warmth of family settled back into the house once more.
SIX-YEAR-OLD DANNY AND TEN-YEAR-OLD HARRY
The smell of buttery toast and sizzling bacon filled the cozy kitchen of the Black-Potter household. ten-year-old Harry sat at the table, munching on a piece of toast, while six-year-old Danica, her wild dark curls sticking in every direction, gleefully smashed her scrambled eggs with her spoon.
"Danny, you're supposed to eat that," Harry said, raising an eyebrow.
Danica grinned, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. "I am! But first, I have to make it flat. Flat eggs taste better."
Harry sighed dramatically but couldn't help smiling. His little sister always had a very particular way of doing things. "Whatever you say, munchkin."
As Danica resumed her egg-flattening mission, footsteps echoed from the hallway. Harry glanced up just in time to see his father, Regulus, stroll into the kitchen. His hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he wore his usual elegant but relaxed expression. Without a word, Regulus walked straight to where Y/N stood at the stove, flipping pancakes.
"Good morning, my love," Regulus murmured, slipping his arms around her waist from behind. He dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.
"Morning," Y/N replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace.
Regulus, however, wasn't content with just one kiss. He trailed a series of gentle kisses along her jawline, then down to the curve of her neck. Y/N giggled softly as he nuzzled the sensitive spot near her ear.
"Regulus Black," she scolded half-heartedly, "the kids are right there."
"Let them learn what true love looks like," Regulus replied with a smirk before pressing a kiss to her temple.
Across the table, Harry froze mid-chew. Danica stopped smashing her eggs. The siblings locked eyes, and without a word, both scrunched their noses and made loud, exaggerated gagging noises.
"Blech! Gross!"
"Ewwwww! Baba's kissing Mama!" Danica squealed, dropping her spoon and covering her eyes with sticky fingers. "Hazzy, make it stop!"
Harry clutched his chest dramatically. "I think I'm gonna be sick," he groaned, slumping over the table.
Regulus lifted his head and arched a single eyebrow at his children. "You two are impossible," he drawled, though amusement danced in his gray eyes.
Y/N laughed, turning to face him. "Told you," she teased.
"Kissing's gross!" Danica declared from behind her tiny hands.
"Yeah, Baba," Harry agreed, sitting back up with an exaggerated shudder. "Keep the mushy stuff private, will you?"
"Private?" Regulus echoed, feigning offense. "This is my home, my kitchen, and my wife. I can kiss her whenever I want."
"Not in front of us!" Danica insisted, peeking through her fingers.
Y/N leaned her head against Regulus's chest and laughed. "Maybe we should tone it down," she said.
"Hmm," Regulus hummed as if considering it. Then, with a devilish grin, he planted a loud, exaggerated kiss on Y/N's cheek.
"EWWWW!" Harry and Danica chorused.
Danica dramatically slid off her chair and collapsed onto the floor. "I've been poisoned!" she moaned, splaying her limbs across the tiles.
Harry followed suit, flopping onto the ground beside her. "We're doomed! Doomed by parental affection!"
Y/N pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter while Regulus smirked down at his children. "Ah, well," he said. "If you're both doomed, that means more pancakes for me and your mother."
Danica's eyes popped open. "Wait! I'm not doomed! I'm hungry!"
Harry sat up immediately. "Me too!"
"Mysterious recovery," Regulus mused as he helped them both back into their chairs.
Y/N plated the pancakes and set them on the table. As everyone dug in, Regulus reached for Y/N's hand under the table and squeezed it.
Harry saw the gesture but let it slide this time. Mostly because there were pancakes. And pancakes always came first.
previous chapter <--> next chapter
The End !
A few years later, when the children of Hazzy and Danny are about to enter Hogwarts.
Regulus Black x Fem! reader
word count: 1.6k
no warnings, just fluff and a bit of comedy
note: The end of the series! I've had a wonderful time writing this series soo..!!
check more here: masterlist, Regulus Masterlist
The air at Platform 9¾ buzzed with excitement, the steam from the Hogwarts Express curling around the crowd in wisps of white. The familiar sounds of chatter, last-minute reminders, and tearful goodbyes filled the air.
Harry Potter-Black stood with his arms crossed, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips as he watched the next generation of witches and wizards prepare to leave for Hogwarts. Beside him, his younger sister, Danny Lestrange née Black, adjusted the collar of her son’s robes with sharp precision.
“Cass, stop fidgeting,” she muttered, fixing her daughter with a pointed look.
Cassiopeia Lestrange, her dark curls a perfect blend of both parents, huffed dramatically. “I just don’t want to look messy, Mum.”
“You’re going to Hogwarts, not the Wizengamot,” Danny deadpanned, before turning to her son. “Arcturus, you excited?”
Arcturus Lestrange, slightly more reserved than his twin, nodded. “Yeah… I think so. But what if I’m not in Slytherin?”
Danny softened slightly, kneeling so she was at eye level with him. “Then you won’t be in Slytherin. It doesn’t matter where you end up. You’re still a Lestrange—" she ignored Harry’s amused cough at that, "—and more importantly, you’re our son. So wherever you go, you’ll be great.”
Arcturus brightened a little.
Harry, watching the exchange, smirked. “You sound just like Baba.”
Danny scoffed. “Of course I do.”
Ginny, standing beside Harry, rolled her eyes. “And you sound just like Y/N. All sharp words but way too soft on the inside.”
Harry huffed. “I do not.”
Danny and Ginny exchanged a knowing look.
A tug on his sleeve made Harry glance down. His eldest child, a boy with messy black hair and warm brown eyes, grinned up at him.
“Dad, tell me again about the first time you went to Hogwarts?”
Harry chuckled and ruffled his son’s hair. “You ever hear of a troll in the dungeons on your first night?”
James Sirius Potter gasped, while Cassiopeia and Arcturus leaned in, wide-eyed.
Danny rolled her eyes. “Don’t scare them.”
“I’m not scaring them. I’m preparing them,” Harry said with mock seriousness.
“More like giving them ideas,” Ginny muttered, shaking her head.
The train whistle blew, signaling the final boarding call.
Danny sighed, her expression softening as she looked at her twins. “Alright, go on then.”
Cassiopeia and Arcturus hesitated, glancing between their parents.
“Go,” Adrian said, gently nudging them forward. “You’re going to be late.”
Finally, the twins ran off, dragging their trunks behind them.
James Sirius looked up at his parents. “I have to go too, right?”
Harry swallowed thickly, nodding. “Yeah, kiddo. You do.”
James’s grin wobbled just slightly, and Harry knelt, gripping his son’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You’re going to have the best time. You’ve got your cousins, and you’re James Sirius Potter. You’ve got troublemaker written all over you.”
James smirked. “Like you?”
Harry laughed. “Exactly.”
Ginny leaned down, pressing a kiss to James’s forehead. “Be good. Write to us.”
James groaned. “Mum…”
“I mean it, James,” she said firmly, though her eyes were warm.
He nodded before hugging her quickly. “Okay, okay.”
With a final grin, James sprinted toward the train.
Cassiopeia and Arcturus stuck their heads out of the window, waving wildly.
“Write to us!” Danny called.
“And don’t get into too much trouble!” Harry added.
Cassiopeia just grinned. “No promises!”
Danny groaned. “Oh, Merlin, she’s just like you.”
Harry smirked. “And Arcturus is just like you. Broody and dramatic.”
Danny rolled her eyes before glancing at her older brother. “Think they’ll be as much trouble as us?”
Harry smirked. “Absolutely.”
Danny shook her head, but her lips twitched into a smile as the train disappeared into the horizon.
Standing there, side by side, Harry and Danny realized something.
They had survived a war. They had lost people they loved. They had fought for everything they had.
And now, as they stood on Platform 9¾, watching their children set off on their own journey, they knew—
The next generation would carry on the legacy.
Regulus let out a long, slow breath as the Hogwarts Express disappeared from sight, the last wisps of steam curling into the sky. He glanced over at Y/N, who was standing beside him, an unreadable expression on her face.
“…We did it,” Y/N finally murmured.
Regulus nodded, rubbing his temple. “Yes. Finally. After years of raising two children and their equally troublesome partners, they’re all at Hogwarts.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then, in perfect unison, they turned to each other and blurted out—
“We’re alone.”
Y/N grabbed Regulus’s collar, eyes wide. “Reg, we’re alone.”
Regulus’s lips parted in pure realization. “No children. No late-night sneaking for cookies. No twin catastrophes. No Quidditch injuries. No Hazzy breaking things in the house.”
“No one walking in on us when we’re—”
Regulus pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes darting to where Harry and Danny were still standing with Ginny and Adrian, their attention thankfully elsewhere. “Shh, don’t jinx it.”
Y/N grinned against his hand before pulling it away. “Reg, do you know what this means?”
He tilted his head. “We can have tea in peace?”
“Yes, and—”
“We can read without someone interrupting us?”
“That too, but—”
“We can sleep past six in the morning?”
Y/N groaned. “Reg, I meant we can finally have a night alone.”
Regulus blinked.
Then, very seriously, he took Y/N’s hands in his and whispered, “Darling, I love you more than life itself, but if we don’t go home and take a nap first, I will pass out in this station.”
Y/N sighed dramatically, but her smirk betrayed her amusement. “Fine, old man.”
Regulus narrowed his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from someone who—”
Before he could finish, a crack echoed behind them.
“Oi, where are you two sneaking off to?”
They turned to see Sirius standing there, grinning like an absolute menace. Next to him was Remus, who was already shaking his head as if he knew what was coming.
Regulus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Merlin, no.”
Y/N sighed. “Sirius, please tell me you’re not about to ruin the first peaceful moment we’ve had in years.”
Sirius gasped mockingly. “Ruin? Moi?”
Regulus turned on his heel. “I’m leaving. Goodbye.”
Y/N turned to follow him, only for Sirius to throw an arm around both of them. “Now, now, don’t be hasty! What if I told you that Moony and I have a brilliant idea?”
Regulus deadpanned. “Your ‘brilliant ideas’ landed me in detention for half my school career.”
Remus, ever the peacekeeper, cleared his throat. “We thought, since you’re finally free of parental duties for the time being, we’d take you both out for a celebratory drink.”
Y/N hesitated, glancing at Regulus.
Regulus stared at them both. Then, after a long pause, he exhaled. “Fine. One drink.”
Sirius whooped. “That’s the spirit, little brother!”
Y/N smirked, looping her arm through Regulus’s. “Alright then. But if anyone interrupts our first actual night alone after this, I will commit crimes.”
Sirius grinned. “Now that’s the Y/N I know.”
Regulus muttered under his breath, but Y/N caught the fond glint in his eye as they all walked off together.
Maybe they’d get their peaceful night soon.
…Hopefully.
For the first time in years, Regulus and Y/N found themselves sitting across from each other at a dimly lit, elegant restaurant—alone. No children, no interruptions, no impromptu crises requiring immediate parental intervention. Just them, a bottle of wine, and a table set for two.
Regulus exhaled, leaning back in his chair as he swirled the wine in his glass. “It’s almost unsettling, isn’t it?”
Y/N smirked, taking a sip of her own. “That we’re not breaking up sibling arguments or stopping the twins from attempting another ‘scientific experiment’? Absolutely.”
Regulus huffed. “Last time, they nearly set my study on fire. I still don’t know how they got their hands on Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”
Y/N grinned. “They are our grandchildren.”
Regulus sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately.”
A comfortable silence settled between them as they enjoyed their meal. It was almost strange, remembering what it felt like to just be—without parenting, without work, without constant noise.
Regulus watched Y/N as she ate, the candlelight flickering against her face. “You know,” he said, setting down his fork, “I forgot how nice it is to just sit and look at you.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I’m in our house every day, Reg.”
“Yes, but usually, I’m dodging incoming Quidditch gear, confiscating enchanted objects, or ensuring that Hazzy and Danny’s children don’t turn the furniture into something alive.” He smirked. “You’re a bit of a blur in the chaos.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a smile. “Well, go on then. Stare all you want.”
Regulus took full advantage of the invitation, his gaze lingering on her with quiet appreciation. “You’re just as breathtaking as the day I met you.”
Y/N felt warmth creep up her neck. “You always were a dramatic bastard.”
“And yet, you married me.”
“Terrible life choice, really.”
Regulus smirked, lifting his glass. “To terrible life choices, then.”
Y/N clinked her glass against his. “To us.”
For a while, they simply enjoyed the moment. The peace. The feeling of being Regulus and Y/N instead of Baba and Mama.
Then, just as their dessert arrived, Regulus stiffened.
“What?” Y/N asked, confused.
Regulus narrowed his eyes toward the entrance.
There, just outside the restaurant, were Harry and Danny, peeking through the window with identical grins.
“…They followed us,” Regulus muttered, looking personally betrayed.
Y/N groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Unbelievable.”
Danny waved innocently. Harry gave a thumbs-up.
Regulus lifted his napkin and covered his face. “I’m pretending I don’t see them.”
Y/N took a long sip of wine. “We raised menaces.”
“Your fault.”
“You married me.”
Regulus sighed, peeking over his napkin. Danny and Harry were still there. Watching. Grinning.
“We’re locking the Floo when we get home,” Regulus mumbled.
Y/N smirked. “Deal.”
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So handsome🌻🌻🌻🌻
Credit to Vanity Fair
Oooh ooooh! Timmy imagines!! Can you write a super fluffy one about Timmy and y/n spending the night together for the first time!
hello!!! ofc you can, i'm trying to make a name for myself as the fluff connoisseur so this is right up my alley! i hope you like it
“ahhh can i please get you something to drink? a soda? coffee? water?”
timothée’s standing in the middle of his kitchen, looking incredibly lost for somebody who had moved into the apartment two years ago.
it’s endearing, damn it, everything he does is endearing, and you wish he would just cut it out. just stop being so cute all the damn time.
“i promise i’m fine,” you say for what must have been the twelfth time that evening.
you’re cosy amongst the blankets on his couch and look a hell of a lot more at home than he does. yet he’s making you nervous with all his pacing.
he just can’t sit still.
“are you absolutely sure? it’s no pr—”
“timmy i swear to god, if you say it’s no problem one more time i’ll give you a problem.”
“i’m sorry!” he laughs, yanks the hood of his hoodie up, spins on the spot so you can’t see his face. you die on the couch at the sight, and kind of just want to climb all over him — is that weird? that’s really weird.
it’s the first time you’re staying at his place and every little thing he does is so him and so domestic it makes butterflies erupt.
you escape the flurry of blankets he threw on top of you and shuffle over to him. one hand gingerly places itself on his shoulder, the other on his lower back, turning him to face you.
he’s pulling his lip between his teeth, green eyes meeting yours then looking at his feet.
“you’ve made us dinner—” you start.
“well i ordered us dinner, that’s no effort—”
“you’ve tidied your place—”
“it was fucking awful before you came—”
“you’ve given me all the blankets, you’ve even bought that candle i told you i liked months ago.”
he laughs nervously, somehow playing footsie standing up. “i just want you to feel at home — and the least i could do is get you a fucking drink.”
is he seriously still worried he’s not enough?
“i’m fine,” you laugh, “how many times do i need to say it? would a different language help? what is it in french?”
he giggles, hands moving to hide his face.
pulling him closer by the waist, you continue, “the only thing i’m missing…”
he turns ashen.
“...is you.”
“what do you mean?” his face, total confusion, makes you smile.
“you’ve been running around all night making everything perfect when all i really need is you. you literally have not stopped moving since i came over.”
he scrunches his face, raising his eyebrows apologetically as a preempt to an unnecessary apology.
“don’t,” you cut him off before he can even try. “there’s nothing to apologise for. now please come cuddle me?”
he grins, all bashful and gorgeous. you pull him towards his couch and flop down onto it. he falls onto you, sandwiching you between his body and the back of it, then gathers the blankets around you both.
“finally,” you sigh contently, immediately snuggling into his chest.
he laughs. it’s a quiet rumble against your ear that thrums through your body, all the way to your toes.
timothée’s hands, always so expressive, slip slowly under your sweater and rest against your skin.
“this okay?” he murmurs, thumbs stroking patterns over your waist.
you nod, hooking a leg over his to tether him to you, never too close, never enough. his heartbeat picks up at this and you grin, your own quickening as he runs his hands to your back, tucking you impossibly closer.
“i can’t believe we could have been doing this hours ago,” he hums.
“instead you were rearranging the table for the millionth time. and we ate the takeout over here instead.” you giggle, running a hand through his hair.
he almost purrs at your touch, hugging you tighter, melting into you.
“that reminds me, we still have dessert in the fridge if you want—”
“nuh uh, no moving,” you cut him off. “been denied cuddles for far too long.”
he laughs, rolling over and taking you with him. “gah, can’t reach fridge! must get ice cream!”
“movie instead?” you compromise, wrapping your legs around him not unlike a koala. he nuzzles your neck, making you laugh, and tucks his nose there.
you reach for the remote and flick to the dark knight. you can feel his smile against your skin and run your hands over his back as he leaves kisses along your neck.
“god, how are you real?” he says, green eyes blindingly sincere as they meet yours. you squirm under his gaze, burying your head back in his chest as the movie starts.
several hours and a trilogy later, your arm is numb and timothée’s dead weight is trapping you against the couch.
your attempt to stretch ends up elbowing him in the face and he groans awake, one hand holding his nose.
“oh god, baby i’m so sorry,” you rush out, your hand caressing his cheek as he blinks sleepily.
“if this is how you wake me up each morning i don’t want it,” he mumbles, playfully nuzzling his nose back against your neck.
you snicker, resting your hand in his hair, undeniable warmth spreading through you at his half asleep musings. you can picture it too, lazy mornings together, coaxing him awake with promises of bagels and kisses, even just kisses, two bodies nestled together under soft sheets, messy hair, warm skin.
you check the time on your phone, shocked to find it’s 02:47am.
“tim,” you murmur, hand tousling his hair. there’s no reply and his breathing is rhythmic and slow.
“timmy,” you try again, other hand sweeping under his hoodie, up his back. “baby, wake up.”
he shakes his head and damn it if it’s not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.
“come on, we can’t sleep on your couch,” you whisper, fingers zigzagging over his skin.
“yeah we can, is comfy,” he yawns, raspy voice making you want to dive into him.
“baby, there’s more room in bed,” you point out. “more room for cuddles?”
he groans, stretching out to his fullest and almost tumbling off the couch. you stand up, amused as he curls back into the couch only to find nobody to cuddle.
“yn?” he asks, rubbing his eyes to find you standing in front of him. “that was cruel.”
he pouts and you roll your eyes, holding your hand out to drag him up. “come on, sleepyhead.”
he grumbles as he leads you to his bedroom, flicking off the lights as he goes. when he turns to face you, nerves erupt in your stomach. it makes no sense, really, you were fine on the couch, sharing his space, limbs intertwined, breathing his scent.
but now his scent is overwhelming. it swirls in the air as he pulls the bed sheets back. it’s woven into the very sheets themselves. it’s everywhere, and so much more intimate, and suddenly your breathing shallows and you stand awkwardly against his doorframe.
“baby?” timothée turns when you don’t follow, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
“sorry, sorry, it’s stupid,” you say, covering your cheeks with your hands.
he shakes his head, reaching out for you. you stand between his legs.
“it’s not,” he says.
“i just… suddenly feel nervous?” you bite your lip. somehow his sleepy eyes soften further at your admission and you move to sit beside him.
“it’s just a bed, it’s just sleep,” he says, headbutting your shoulder.
“i know but there’s all this pressure to be intimate—”
“my only job is to make you happy and comfortable,” timothée says so earnestly, so safely, you can’t believe how worked up you were.
the tension leaves your body and you’re left as tired as he looks. you run a finger over the smudges beneath his eyes, leaning closer to kiss him.
“thank you,” you whisper against his lips.
he kisses you again, soft and warm, and when you pull away the nerves have transformed back into butterflies.
“okay, we need sleep,” you say, watching his eyes flutter.
he hums, pulling you backwards to lie down beside him. “this okay?”
you nod, cuddling closer. his heartbeat picks up again when you trace your fingers over his chest. there’s a few minutes of shifting around and getting comfy, and it’s as timothée turns onto his side for the fifth time that he declares:
“fuck, now i can’t sleep.”
“you’re kidding. i had to practically drag you off the couch.”
“yeah but now i’m overtired.”
“are you a toddler?” you tease.
timothée huffs, rolling over to face the wall. you smirk a few moments later when his hands find their way back to your skin like a magnet.
“do you ever think about space?”
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan, hiding your face in one of his pillows.
“no but hear me out, it’s so vast, and we’re so tiny, but that doesn’t mean we’re insignificant. and aliens, why do we never see them? maybe they’re really shy, or disgusted by us, or have huge superiority complexes.”
“please please shut up,” you nose at his neck, kissing just behind his ear sweetly.
“okay, but last thing. what if we’re the aliens?”
“timothée…” you whine, turning over as he spoons you.
“and that’s why we feel so alone? imagine if space had cliques, and earth is like the outcasts. because no other planet seems to have self destructive qualities.”
you make a noise, too tired for words now, as he rambles on about jupiter’s moons and civilization and whatever else goes on in that million miles an hour mind.
somewhere around the ten minute mark you tune out, blissfully close to sleep. he notices your muscles relax against him, and can’t help himself when he teases, just one more time:
“baby, are you sure i can’t get you something to drink?”
“i’m going to murder you.”
he grins as he holds you closer, one hand gently carding through your hair to send you to sleep.
✮⋆˙ 𝙿𝚊𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 .ᐟ
╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Paul Atreides gets baby fever and pesters his beloved wife into having one
⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟽𝟾𝟷 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
The desert winds howled against the walls of their quarters, a steady rhythm that had become background music to Y/N's life. She was seated at their low table, sorting through a collection of reports from the sietch leaders. Across from her, Paul Atreides lounged on a cushion, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at her. She glanced up, feeling his gaze. “What?”
“You’d look good with a baby in your arms,” Paul said, his tone casual, as though he were commenting on the weather.
Y/N froze mid-scroll, lifting an incredulous brow. “Excuse me?”
“A baby,” Paul repeated, his blue-within-blue eyes alight with something far too mischievous for her liking. “Our baby.”
She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Paul, we’re fighting off assassination attempts, managing alliances, and trying to ensure Arrakis doesn’t collapse into chaos. And you want to talk about babies?”
“Yes,” he said simply, sitting up straighter. “Think about it, Y/N. A child of ours—someone to carry on what we’re building. Someone who could bring joy to the sietch, and to us.”
“Joy?” she repeated, her tone dry. “More like sleepless nights and endless crying.”
Paul grinned, undeterred. “It’s not all like that. Imagine teaching them about the desert, watching them grow, seeing the world through their eyes.”
Y/N sighed, setting the reports aside. “You’re serious about this?”
“As serious as I’ve ever been,” Paul replied, leaning forward, his gaze locking with hers. “We’ve fought so hard, Y/N. We deserve to have something of our own, something that’s not tied to prophecy or politics.”
She studied him, trying to gauge if this was another one of his intense whims. But the way he spoke, the way his voice softened as he described their potential future—it was clear he’d been thinking about this for a while.
“Paul, our lives aren’t exactly stable,” she said gently. “Bringing a child into this... it’s a risk.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But everything we do is a risk. At least this one would be for us, not for the throne or the Fremen or anyone else.”
Y/N tilted her head, lips twitching into a small smile. “You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”
“Every day,” he confessed. “Especially when I see the children in the sietch. They remind me of what’s possible, even in the harshest conditions. We could give that to a child—love, guidance, and a future worth fighting for.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re romanticizing it. Babies are hard work, Paul. And you’re not exactly known for having free time.”
“That’s why we’d do it together,” he countered, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it won’t be easy, but nothing in our lives is. That’s never stopped us before.”
Y/N was silent for a moment, letting his words sink in. She couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in her chest at the thought of a child—a little piece of her and Paul, growing and thriving amidst the chaos. But practicality had always been her guiding force.
“Let me think about it,” she said finally, her tone measured.
Paul’s face lit up, his grin wide and boyish. “That’s not a no.”
“No, it’s not,” she agreed, shaking her head at his enthusiasm.
Over the next few weeks, Paul didn’t let the subject drop. He found ways to weave it into their conversations, whether they were discussing strategy or simply sharing quiet moments together. He’d point out how Y/N’s nurturing nature would make her a wonderful mother or muse aloud about what their child might be like.
One evening, as they walked through the sietch, Paul stopped to watch a group of children playing in the sand. Y/N followed his gaze, her heart softening as she saw the way his expression shifted—hopeful, almost wistful.
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” she asked, nudging him gently.
“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice warm. “But only because I know you’d be an amazing mother, Y/N. And because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to raise a family with.”
She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse,” he teased.
That night, as they lay together under the dim glow of the desert moonlight, Y/N finally spoke the words she knew Paul had been waiting to hear.
“Fine,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a child.”
Paul’s arms tightened around her, his breath hitching in surprise. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” she said, turning to meet his gaze. “But you’re changing diapers.”
He laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Deal.”
part two !!
Eerie similarities
The eerie similarities between Danny and Baba, and, Harry and Mama
[Regulus Black x Fem Potter! reader]
word count: 779
warnings: fluff and a bit of humor
The Black-Potter living room was a study in contrasts. On one side, sprawled across the thick, emerald-green rug, Harry and Y/N lay on their backs, laughing breathlessly after what had been, according to them, an epic tickle war. On the other side of the room, Regulus sat on the couch, legs crossed, one arm draped casually over the backrest. Beside him, their six-year-old daughter, Danica "Danny" Potter-Black, mirrored his posture with unsettling accuracy.
Both father and daughter held books in their hands. Regulus was reading a dense, leather-bound tome about magical theory, his brows furrowed in concentration. Danny, meanwhile, had a picture book titled The Curious Cauldron Chronicles, but it wasn't the pictures she cared about. Her small finger traced the words on the page as she read quietly to herself, lips moving with every sentence.
"She's just like you," Y/N said from the floor, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched the pair. "Quiet, broody, and disturbingly good at everything."
Regulus glanced over the top of his book, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Disturbingly? I'm gifted, not disturbing."
"Baba," Danny said without looking up, "Mama's jealous that we're smarter."
Regulus chuckled. "That must be it."
Y/N gasped dramatically and flopped back onto the rug. "You hear that, Harry? Our broody geniuses think they're better than us."
Harry, sprawled beside her with his messy black hair sticking up in every direction, grinned mischievously. "Yeah, well, they probably can't do this." He scrambled to his feet and launched himself into a spontaneous, lopsided cartwheel.
Danny finally looked up from her book, unimpressed. "That's not hard," she said, setting her book aside and sliding off the couch. She attempted a cartwheel, landing with a heavy thud on her side. She scowled as her curls flopped into her eyes. "Okay," she muttered. "Maybe it is hard."
Y/N laughed and sat up. "It's okay, Danny-bug. We'll teach you."
"I don't need help," Danny mumbled, climbing to her feet and brushing herself off. "I just need practice."
"She's definitely yours," Y/N said, looking pointedly at Regulus.
"And Harry's yours," Regulus countered, tilting his head toward their son, who was now attempting to do jumping jacks while singing a made-up song about dragons.
"I'm like Mama!" Harry declared proudly, flopping down beside her again. "We're the fun ones."
Y/N ruffled his hair. "That's right, Hazzy. We cause the chaos while they sit around reading big boring books."
Danny crossed her arms, standing next to her father with an identical expression of disdain. "Books aren't boring," she huffed.
"Exactly," Regulus said, holding out a hand for a high five. Danny slapped his palm with the practiced precision of someone who'd done it many times before.
"See," Y/N whispered to Harry. "Broody, smart, and way too serious."
Harry giggled, but his eyes softened as he watched his sister sit back down beside their father. "I like it when Danny reads to me sometimes," he said quietly.
"Of course you do," Y/N said, kissing his temple. "She's your little sister. You're supposed to think she's cool sometimes. Just don't tell her that too often."
Harry nodded sagely. "Got it."
Across the room, Danny leaned into Regulus's side, her head resting against his arm as she picked up her book again. He angled the book slightly toward her, pointing out a tricky word when she hesitated.
Y/N smiled softly. "She's going to be just like you, you know."
Regulus glanced up. "Brilliant and devastatingly handsome?"
"I was going to say a stubborn know-it-all, but sure, let's go with that."
Danny, still absorbed in her book, gave a tiny smile at her parents' teasing. Harry, meanwhile, tugged on Y/N's hand. "Come on, Mama! Let's build a pillow fort!"
Y/N jumped to her feet with a conspiratorial grin. "Excellent idea, partner-in-crime."
As the energetic duo began dragging pillows and blankets from every corner of the room, Danny peeked over her book. "That blanket's mine," she said.
"Then come help us," Y/N said with a wink.
Danny hesitated. But when Regulus nudged her lightly, she stood and crossed the room, grabbing a pillow and placing it with calculated precision.
"We're going to have our hands full with these two," Y/N murmured as Regulus joined her on the couch.
Regulus draped an arm around her shoulders, watching Harry enthusiastically demonstrate the "proper" way to build a pillow fort while Danny corrected his measurements. "Yes," he agreed, pressing a kiss to Y/N's temple. "And I wouldn't change a thing."
Outside, the winter wind howled against the windows. Inside, the Black-Potter family remained warm, chaotic, and perfectly complete.
previous chapter <--> next chapter
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓
🌟 = Fluff, 🪐 = Angst, ✨ = mild spice, 🎬 = hurt/comfort
{𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝} → open ! || requests are usually open unless they get too much, then I will turn them off so that I could finish other requests ! ||
ONE-SHOTS :
Movie night 🌟🎬 - At home movie date with step-father Timmy.
SERIES:
(not yet available)
BLURBS :
(not yet available)
changed my navigation again... looks good? need thoughts
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⊹welcome! ⊹ ࣪ ˖✦.──ᝰ.ᐟ | riri or rhia | 15 | wonka lover | entp | hufflepuff |
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