Chapter 1
It was 9:37 in the evening when a sharp knock rang throughout the Potter-Black residence in Godric’s Hollow.
Regulus, who had been otherwise occupied with making the perfect cup of pre-bed Early Gray tea, looked towards the front door with an equal mix of surprise and suspicion. With James on a weekend ski trip to Switzerland with the rest of the marauders and Harry spending the night with the Weasleys, he was meant to have the house all to himself. He stood in the candle-lit kitchen for a moment before placing the cup down and replacing it with his wand. He walked towards the source of the noise, calm and calculated, purposefully missing the wooden board that always creaked when someone stepped upon it.
Regulus cast a few detection spells, his wand turning green to indicate that whoever it was did not mean any harm. With a deep breath, he pulled the door open to tell whoever it was to bugger off before stopping short at the sight that greeted him. Draco Malfoy, soaked to the bone from the early summer downpour and covered head to toe in what appeared to be his own blood, stared at him, shivering under the flickering light of the street lamps. A dark and yellowing bruise covered up the space around his eye, garish and entirely out of place against the rest of his pale skin, which also appeared sullen and sunken.
“Dear Merlin,” Regulus whispered under his breath, eyes darting all over the boy in an attempt to catalog his injuries.
The boy didn’t utter a sound, allowing the older Black to pull him into the house and not unkindly shove him onto the couch before turning to grab his at-home healer's kit. A quick diagnostic charm told Regulus that the boy was suffering from quite a few ailments: a broken wrist, a bruised lung, a sprained ankle, and the most worrying of all, a series of haphazardly healed slash wounds across his chest and much of his torso. Regulus went about healing him as well as he could without more professional equipment, steadily whispering spells to mend his bones, handing him a blood-replenishing potion along with a calming draught to help with the shaking.
“Would you mind taking your top off, dear? I need to apply some dittany.”
The boy didn't reply, nodding once to let Regulus know it was ok to remove the fabric. He obliged, removing it gently and applying as much of the essence as he had on hand. With that done, he pulled away and smiled kindly at the boy. “I apologize, there may be some scarring left in the morning. I don’t have enough to ensure it all heals properly. Would you like a change of clothes? I’m sure you feel dreadful in those wet trousers. I’m sure Harry has something that will fit you. Though, admittedly, you are quite a bit taller than my son.”
Surprisingly, it was that statement that got a proper reaction out of the boy, a tiny smirk blooming on his face. He was granted another nod, this one more sure. Regulus was quick about it, rushing to Harry’s room and rummaging through his drawers until he found a pair of sweatpants that were too long and a Chudley Cannons shirt that Harry had stolen from his father. He hesitated when he realized that Draco would need pants as well but decided against taking a pair of Harry’s, much too aware of the fragility of a 16-year-old boy.
Draco was in much the same position as he’d left him, sitting rigid straight on their well-loved sofa staring into the fireplace with a sort of blankness that Regulus put a pin in for later.
“The loo is the first room on the right just down that hall, love. If you need anything at all just shout.”
As the boy disappeared behind the door, Regulus went about setting the kettle on the stove to make a new batch of tea and grabbed a spare piece of parchment from the desk in the corner of the living room to write a vague but concise note to his husband, urging him to keep the information to himself for fear of making the situation worse. He whistled, the tell-tale sound of their eagle owl flying in from the back garden, slightly damp.
Regulus handed her a few treats before he gave her the letter. “I’m sorry, Missy, but please take this to James. I’ll have a grouse for you tomorrow when you come back.” Missy gave a quiet chirp and hopped off the table, flying out and into the darkened night.
He heard a small sound a moment after she left and turned to find the blonde teenager awkwardly shuffling in place, his damp clothes folded neatly in his hands.
“Right, hand that over and take a seat on the island. I’ll put these in the hamper and then we can have some tea.” A thought occurred to him upon his return to the kitchen from the laundry room. “Have you had dinner, dear? Forgive me for my lack of tact, but you look as though you haven't eaten in a while.”
He was surprised to see the boy flinch at the mention of food, a reaction all too familiar to him.
“How about I take out some biscuits? Should be easy on the stomach.” He didn’t wait for a response he knew wasn't coming, grabbing a tin out of the cabinet above the stove as the kettle whistled. A moment later they were sitting across from one another with warm cups of tea and a plate of chocolate digestives between them. Regulus watched as the boy took tiny sips, the length increasing as he got used to the calming heat of the drink.
“Now,” Regulus spoke after a couple of minutes had passed, waiting for Draco to look up at him. “I think I have some questions.”
The boy’s body filled back up with tension that had been slowly seeping out, fingers clenching around the ceramic of his cup and eyes widening in something akin to fear, but not quite. Trepidation? Anxiety? He couldn’t be sure.
“Are you in any immediate danger?” A hesitant shake no.
“Are you still in any amount of pain?” A more confident no as well.
“Can you tell me who did this to you?”
This made the boy pause, eyes darting around the room.
Regulus waited, seeing far too much of himself in this scared child.
“It’s alright if you don’t want to.”
The boy shook his head immediately, taking a shaky breath as he placed his cup down on the counter, looking around for something. Regulus watched his eyes catch on the pile of parchment he had just used before seemingly looking to him for permission. The black haired man nodded with interest, not looking away as the boy grabbed a sheet and the abandoned quill and began writing quickly. He pushed the paper towards him after a moment.
My father. Only 2 words.
“Right, I had assumed as much,” Regulus sighed, rubbing his eyes harshly.
Lucius Malfoy was many things, many awful things, but Regulus had hoped that with Narcissa there the man wouldn’t take his anger out on his son. It appears he was mistaken.
“Why can’t you speak?” He asked. Again the boy took to writing.
I believe it's some sort of curse. It doesn’t hurt, I simply can’t seem to get my mouth to cooperate.
“Bloody wonderful,” Regulus murmured, slightly gratified at the small smile Draco gave him in return. “I’ll make sure to look into that in the morning,” he paused, “ok, well, it's getting late and you've clearly had a hell of a day, so why don’t you sleep in Harry’s bed and we’ll figure everything out tomorrow?”
Draco’s eyes once again widened. I can’t possibly sleep in Potter’s bed. He would throw a proper fit if he ever found out.
Right, as if Regulus could ever forget the inane feud between his son and his distant relative. It’s not as though the blonde boy was the most consistent character in Harry’s letters home. Merlin, he was forever grateful to not be a teenage boy anymore. With a very characteristic roll of his eyes, Regulus stared at him.
“Fine, then. You can sleep on the couch if you well please. However, Harry will be returning in the morning and will find you regardless. Pick your poison, I suppose.”
Draco pointedly crossed his arms, not taking his bait. Yes, well, being unreceptive to manipulation must run in the family.
Regulus huffed a laugh, setting their now empty cups into the sink to be washed with a flick of his wand before summoning a pillow and a set of linens from the hallway cupboard. He was efficient in setting the couch up for Draco and stepped away with a dramatic flourish, something he had picked up from Sirius.
“I hope you sleep well,” Regulus said, watching the boy settle onto the couch and wrap himself up in a comforter decorated with tiny broomsticks. He stood for a moment longer, an ache growing in his chest as the boy shuddered once, twice, three times, before he finally settled into the soft cushions.
Regulus finally walked away and went about his nightly routine of spelling all the doors and windows shut before heading up the stairs to their bedroom. His brain was working a mile a minute, trying to understand what led Malfoy to attack his own flesh and blood in such a vicious manner. He didn’t doubt that had Draco not left when he did, the boy likely wouldn’t be alive now. All Regulus knew was that there was no way he was letting the boy back into that monster's arms. With one final sigh, he turned towards James’ side of the bed and shut his eyes, willing his body into a deep sleep.
———
A loud yell followed by a thumping sound startled Regulus out of his sleep. He shot up out of bed and ran down the stairs with his wand in hand. He stopped as he made it to the living room to take in the sight.
His son, eyes wide, wand at the ready, staring at Draco as the taller boy glared back, arms crossed over his chest and stance defiant. The comforter Draco had slept with would be seen strewn across their dining table, clearly someone had thrown it.
“Harry James Potter, we do not pull wands on guests in this household,” Regulus scolded, walking over to them and standing in front of Draco with a stony expression.
Harry’s eyes widened even more as he sputtered a protest, though he did lower his wand. “But, papa, what is he doing here? What was I meant to do when I found the git lying on our couch?”
“You will watch your language.” Regulus chided before his expression softened. “Draco is going to be staying with us for a while, and while I would love to explain the entire situation to you, it is simply not my place.” He turned to look between them, eyes serious once again. “Now, there will be no fighting in my house, physical or otherwise. You will both tolerate one another or so help me, I will find far less kind ways to make you get along. Is that understood?”
“Yes, papa,” Harry mumbled, rubbing at his arm and looking away.
Draco nodded, looking thoroughly reprimanded.
“Wonderful,” Regulus smiled gently. “How about we get breakfast sorted before your father returns? I was thinking we could make pancakes.”
Harry visibly brightened at the mention of his favorite breakfast food, launching into the kitchen to pull out the ingredients. Draco watched him with thinly veiled judgment before grabbing the discarded comforter and setting about clearing up any evidence that he had slept there.
35 minutes later James Potter rushed into the house with a concerned expression that slowly melted as he saw the 3 of them settling down at the dining table with large stacks of chocolate chip and blueberry pancakes in the center. Regulus beamed at him, accepting a kiss in greeting without complaint, gesturing for him to sit down.
“Harry,” James started, smiling at his son before turning to their guest. “Draco, I hope you're feeling better.”
Regulus watched as Harry looked at them with a question clear in his eyes. Regulus subtly shook his head to which the boy sighed and mumbled something inaudible. Draco's expression shifted into something that was clearly meant to be a smile but ended up looking more like a grimace.
Breakfast, unusually, was a quiet affair. Harry disappeared the moment he was done eating, probably going to stare moodily at his wall or something equally as dramatic. Draco got up shortly after, curling up on the couch with a muggle fiction book from the shelves Regulus had told him he could peruse. Regulus made eye contact with James and tilted his head towards the back door. They got up together and Regulus informed his cousin that they were going outside for a moment. Draco simply nodded his head, fully engrossed in the story.
“Please tell me what's going on. Your letter was quite frankly missing all the important details, love,” James said the moment they made it to their greenhouse, leaning against the worktable.
“Quite honestly, I'm just as lost as you are. He showed up on our doorstep wet, bloody, and bruised and I couldn't possibly send him away. I healed what I could, though he will certainly have some scarring along his torso. He also can’t speak which makes this just that much more complicated,” Regulus rushed out, leaning on the table across from his husband.
“Who did this to him?”
“Who else?”
James’s expression fell, “I knew the man was a monster but his son ?”
“I know.”
“We have to tell someone about this.”
“I know, but maybe I could speak with Narcissa first? Perhaps she can help us make sense of this all.”
“Reggie,” James said, “this happened right under her nose. What tells you she wasn't involved?”
The Narcissa Regulus knew would never hurt her child, or any child for that matter. But the Narcissa he knew also never would have married someone as vile as Lucius, so perhaps James had a point.
“You make a good point,” he sighed, leaning forward to shove his face into James’s chest. “What do you suggest we do?”
“We can keep it quiet for now until Draco tells us everything and then we can move forward from there. It would be unfair for us to go behind his back.”
James looked down at him with an easy smile, one he’d been on the receiving end of for so many years yet never ceased to make him giddy, like a boy left alone with his crush for the first time.
“Has anyone ever told you your empathy is incredibly sexy, darling?”
Regulus let out a loud guffaw, shoving the older man away. “You are insatiable, James Potter.”
“Oh, baby, don’t be like that!” Regulus heard him holler as he stepped out through the glass door, smiling stupidly.
He stepped back into the house, noting that Draco was still enthralled in his book. However, Harry was now sitting on a nearby armchair, the really soft one Sirius had bought as a wedding gift that made whoever sat on it sink so far into the cushion that it was comical. His son was glaring at Draco as though he had killed his dog, eyes watching the blonde's every movement even though he was not paying him any attention.
“Harry, dear, could you come help me with something upstairs?”
Harry startled, staring at him sheepishly knowing he’d been caught. He obliged, following behind Regulus as he led him to their study, shutting the door behind him and gesturing for the boy to sit on the small couch.
“Baby, I am well aware that you and Draco have never quite gotten along-“
“Understatement of the century.” He interrupted.
Regulus sighed, settling in next to his son and taking his hands into his own. “Perhaps. But he’s in a very difficult position right now and he came to me, to us , for help. The least we could do is not make him feel like an intruder when it must’ve taken a lot of courage to do so.”
He watched Harry ruminate over his words for a moment before he gave him a short nod.
“Fine.”
“Wonderful,” Regulus reached over to hug him, mind easing as his son hugged him back tightly. “I appreciate you trying,” he whispered into his ear.
“Of course.” The boy got up to head back down before he called back out to him.
“Oh, before I forget, Draco has been cursed and can’t speak so please be patient if you’re trying to communicate with him. And no insults please, you know it’s unfair that he can’t fight back,” Regulus's eyes twinkled at the put-out look Harry gave him as he stepped out.
Regulus slumped onto the couch as his son left, staring at the ceiling. There was much to do to get this all resolved but he was determined to help the poor boy.
“Now, time for that research.” He muttered, turning to the bookshelves and looking for any books regarding dark magic curses. He wouldn’t put it past the fucker to pick whatever was hardest to cure.
———
The rest of the week passed in much the same way and with Harry and Draco both out of Hogwarts for Christmas break, the tension in the home had been increasing steadily to the point that Regulus felt like he was walking on eggshells in his own home.
Despite what Regulus had thought, Draco’s inability to verbally respond to any of his son's insults did not result in a decrease in fights. On the contrary, it seemed as though the 2 had perfected silent antagonization to a degree of which Regulus himself had become jealous. It typically started with a comment from Harry about Draco being ridiculous or an arse or stuck up, to which Draco would simply look at him like he was an annoying fly he so desperately wanted to kill with the heel of his foot. The glaring completion would last for no less than 10 minutes before one of the 2 would huff in exasperation and look away. Neither ever surrendered twice in a row.
James did his best to make them stop but dealing with the upkeep of his flower shop and assisting Sirius and Remus with some renovations on their home, the man barely had enough time to spend with his family without the added stress of some feuding teenagers. Therefore, it was Regulus’s job to find some way to solve their issues.
It was 10 days after Draco had arrived at their home and directly after another one of their weird eye-only arguments that he became fed up.
“Ok!” He shouted, shoving his chair back and walking to face the boys as they sat on the couch, face stony and patience wearing thin. “I have had it up to here with this odd and, quite frankly, childish behavior. Why is it that you don’t like one another anyway?” He paused. “Real answers only, please.”
The 2 of them sat silently for a moment before Draco grabbed the notebook he had taken to carrying with him to communicate when necessary and started scribbling furiously with a muggle pen James had lent him. A moment later he turned the book towards Regulus who read it out loud for Harry’s benefit.
I offered to be friends during our first year and he laughed at me. He said that he would never be friends with someone like me.
“Someone like him? What did you mean by that, Harry?”
“I, well, you know?” He tried to wiggle his way out a proper answer as Draco smirked at him. “Can you blame me? He insulted Ron just seconds after meeting him.”
Because he insulted me first. Perhaps I shouldn’t have called him a weasel, but calling me a death eater was uncalled for.
Regulus was well acquainted with that particular insult having been a death eater for a short period before defecting and aiding in the quest to destroy Riddle’s horcruxes. He was also aware that, while baby Malfoy was born years after Voldemort was gone, the shadow of his father’s cowardice and allegiance to the dark side during the war hung over him with a vengeance.
“Harry, have you ever considered that Draco had been provoked?”
Harry looked stunned, having been unaware of the start of this argument.
“I- I didn’t know Ron had insulted him first. I was too busy speaking with Hermione and I only tuned in a moment after they had already started talking.”
Draco looked triumphant, jotting down more words.
Perhaps you aren’t as wise as you thought, Potter.
“Yes, well, maybe you’re right.” And with that, his son swept out of the room and ran up the stairs.
Stunned, Regulus looked to Draco for some sort of explanation only to find a similar expression of shock on his face.
“Well, then. That was certainly educational,” he cleared his throat, “Draco, dear, please follow me to the study. I think I’ve found some information about that curse.”
———
Regulus paused as he stepped into the warm house, eyes squinting in suspicion. It was silent. Maybe a little too silent.
He knew the boys were still home, Harry because he hadn’t asked to go out, and Draco because, well. So the silence was a bit unnerving if he was being honest.
He finished taking his outer clothing and shoes off, walking inside as he inspected the sitting room for anything out of place. Regulus was about to enter the kitchen when he heard laughter from upstairs. He followed the sound until he found himself right outside Harry’s bedroom. He pushed the door open gently, just to take a peek, and the sight that greeted him made him freeze.
Harry, still wearing the pajamas he had slept in, sitting on his bed with what appeared to be a comic book on his lap. Draco was not sitting far off, lounging on the armchair in the corner. It appeared, unbelievable as it seemed, that Harry was… reading to the blonde and Draco was…enjoying it if the mirth in his expression was anything to go by. The laughter, then, must’ve come from his son seeing as Draco still hadn’t regained the ability to speak, something Regulus was still working on.
Deciding to make his presence known, he knocked on the door and pushed it open all the way. The boys immediately stopped smiling, expressions of contentment dropping as they turned to him with flushed faces.
“Hello, just wanted to let you both know I’ve returned from the hospital. Is shepherd’s pie okay for supper?”
Harry nodded, looking down into his lap. Draco tilted his head in confusion and began writing in his notebook.
Never had it.
Regulus laughed, “Yes, well, purebloods don’t tend to enjoy the delicacies of muggle food. Would you like to help me make it, love? I know you’re a star in potions and I think you’d quite enjoy cooking.”
Draco nodded after a moment's hesitation. He got up gracefully, not so subtly glancing at his son.
“Harry, dear, care to join us?”
His son's face got even redder, if that was even possible, shaking his head vehemently.
Regulus smiled at him, “Very well. Your father should be home soon, food will be ready in an hour.”
He gestured for the boy to follow him and the two of them made their way to the kitchen. Draco stood off to the side, watching him pull out various ingredients– a couple of potatoes, some carrots, a bag of peas, and a stick of butter.
“How are your knife skills?” Regulus asked.
Not very good.
“Well, let’s change that, yes?”
He guided Draco in peeling and chopping the vegetables, showing him how to mind his fingers and how to cut even pieces. It took some trial and error, along with a single cut to a wary pointer finger that Regulus healed with a single wave of his wand, but the boy eventually got the hang of it, working on chopping the carrots as he set the potatoes to boil. He also pulled out some ground beef and set it to defrost under a charm. Together, they got the food done in just over an hour, just in time for James to walk in through the door, a stray flower lost in his curly hair. His exhausted smile widened as he took in the sight of a proud Draco staring down at the dish they had made and Regulus leaning over the dining table as he set it.
“Smells like pie,” James exclaimed, dropping a kiss on Regulus’s lips and clapping Draco on the shoulder lightly. “I should freshen up before we sit down. Shall I bring Harry down with me?”
“Please,” Regulus nodded.
Later, after the food had settled in their stomachs and James finished raving about the meal, the older Black noticed Draco staring at his hands as if in awe that they could make something worthy of praise. And, well, Regulus had plenty of experience with that particular feeling.