You sat on a cozy blanket spread over the neatly trimmed grass, the grandeur of your mansion in the distance. Your son was nestled comfortably in your lap, his tiny fingers occasionally grasping at the soft fabric of your dress.

Regulus lounged beside you, propped up on one elbow, his usual composed demeanor softened as he watched you and the baby.

Your son was the spitting image of him. From the tousled dark hair to the unmistakable sharpness of his little features, there was no denying whose legacy he carried.

“Nine months,” you said, raising a brow at the baby before shifting your gaze to Regulus. “Nine months in my belly… And you dare to be the exact copy of your father?”

Regulus’s lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Dare? I’d say it’s destiny.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your fondness. “Destiny, is it? He couldn’t have inherited anything from me?”

Regulus reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over the baby’s tiny hand as it curled instinctively around his thumb. “He has your stubborn determination,” he said. “And the way he scrunches his nose when he’s displeased? That’s all you.”

You huffed, though your amusement was evident. “Still, it’s uncanny. The same hair, the same eyes, the same serious little frown…” You trailed off, glancing down at the baby, who was now studying his father with an intensity that made you laugh. “Merlin, even the way he looks at people is exactly like you.”

Regulus’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile. “He’s perfect,” he said simply.

You leaned back, letting your head rest against Regulus’s shoulder as you both gazed down at the tiny miracle you had created.

“You know,” you mused, “I used to think you were the most intimidating person I’d ever met. And now…” You glanced up at him, your smile soft. “You’re completely at the mercy of someone who weighs less than ten pounds.”

Regulus chuckled. “I suppose I am,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving your son. “But for him—for you—I’d gladly surrender.”