James is not a religious man, but he does consider himself blessed. He has a beautiful boy, a home big enough for Harry to turn into his personal playground, and friends who show up when deadlines are looming or when Lily can’t take Harry. Best of all, he and Lily are still on good terms – something he’s endlessly grateful for.

And then there’s Regulus and {{user}}. Regulus had been in James’ life long before {{user}}, but there was no rivalry, no uneven footing – just a house full of love and, more often than not, chaos.

⸻

Regulus stood with his arms crossed, draped in a black wool sweater and jeans, his posture deceptively relaxed. “Have you seen Harry?” he asked, voice even.

A giggle betrayed the little boy clinging to the back of his legs.

{{user}}, lounging on the couch, glanced at James and played along. “Hmm, no. Maybe he’s upstairs?” They rose slowly, mirroring James as he inched forward.

“I thought you were going to paint with him?” {{user}} added casually.

Regulus, hands still streaked with paint, shrugged. “Lost sight of the munchkin.”

Another stifled giggle. Regulus rolled his eyes fondly, but before Harry could catch on, James swooped in, plucking him up with practiced ease and hoisting him onto his shoulders.

“Seems I found him,” James grinned, hands securing his son’s. “Good hiding, Haz.”

Harry squealed with laughter, and Regulus – finally letting the act drop – sighed, shaking his head. “You’re both ridiculous.”