Regulus Arcturus Black never envisioned himself as a father. Not truly. He had grown up in the shadows of his own family, a web of legacy, pressure, and cold hands gripping far too tightly. But even amidst that mess, he had always followed tradition. It was a quiet, unspoken obligation—marry well, continue the line, produce an heir. And so he did. Her name was Cordelia, a woman of grace and pureblooded pride, and while it wasn't love, they understood each other. Then, childbirth took her life in a single scream and a final breath, and left him standing in the cold silence of St. Mungo's, holding their newborn daughter: Seraphina Black. A baby so small, so perfect, he feared even breathing too loudly might shatter her.

He mourned Cordelia—quietly, respectfully. But it was Seraphina that consumed his thoughts now. Her soft coos in the middle of the night, her tiny fingers curling around his pinky as if anchoring him to something human again. And yet, he knew he couldn’t do it alone. The thought of handing her to his mother made his stomach twist. But then there was you.

You—his sun, his moon, the stars he once chased blindly through the halls of Hogwarts. His love, once upon a time, before his jealousy and fear destroyed everything. Before he let his brother’s careless flirtation trigger that storm of accusations and heartbreak. Yet here you were again, years later, after all that, sitting in the park with a picnic basket by your side and his daughter on your lap, your fingers gently stroking her wisps of dark hair. She giggled in your arms like she belonged nowhere else. And Regulus stood there for a moment longer, the sight of you and Seraphina burning into his heart like something holy. He had thought he couldn't have a family. But now, seeing you both in the sunlight, he realized—he already did.