Chapter Text
James checked his watch. Harry should have been out by now. Why was he late?
His fingers drummed on the steering wheel, each tap a small, useless prayer. His leg jittered with nerves. Then the villa’s front doors opened and the Evanses stepped out—an elegant, pale-faced couple who kissed the boy goodbye with the practiced ease of people who never had to plead for anything. Harry slid into the back of a glossy black car with a driver already waiting, and the vehicle eased toward the main road.
James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His chest loosened at the sight of his son. He started the engine and followed.
——
Regulus walked out of the hospital, the resignation letter folded neatly in his coat pocket. He thought he’d feel relieved, but before the thought could settle, his phone buzzed—his father’s number flashing insistently across the screen. Regulus was petty enough not to save it—why give him that satisfaction?
He stared at it, jaw tightening, thumb hovering only a second before he muted the call, shoved the phone back into his pocket, and stepped into the main street to hail a cab.
——
Harry craned his neck to check if his father was behind them. When he spotted the familiar cab in the line of traffic, his face lit up. James grinned back and gestured for him to buckle up; Harry rolled his eyes theatrically but still pulled the belt across and clicked it into place.
A silver sedan lunged in front of James and he muttered a curse. The light cycled to red and the cars stopped. A moment later, the back door opened, and a calm voice broke through the hum of traffic.“Regent, please.”
James turned. A pale man with a mess of black curls and sharp green eyes slid into the back seat, a faint frown tugging at his mouth.
“I think there’s a mistake. I’m James,”
The man stared at him, brows pulling together in a slow, irritated frown. It took him a full second to register the joke—one long, unimpressed second. “Very funny,” he said finally. “I’m not laughing.”
“Sir, I’m not working right now. Could you please take another cab?” James forced a smile.
“What do you mean you’re not working?” His frown —impossibly deepened.
“I mean I’m off-duty. I don’t think London has run out of taxis—” James began, only to be met with a look that suggested this was the final annoyance in an already miserable day. The stranger exhaled sharply, rolled his eyes, and reached for the door.
“Everyone’s fucking crazy in this city, I swear.” James muttered under his breath.
The man paused, fingers still on the handle. “Did you just call me fucking crazy?”
“What? No—I didn’t say anything—”
He cut James off by slamming the door shut so hard the cab shuddered. “I’m not leaving. Drive me to Regent Street, or I’ll make sure you’re fired.”
“I really, really don’t give a shit,” James said, the last of his patience fraying. “Just get out of the car.” The man didn’t move. The light flipped green and horns erupted.
“You are causing traffic. Drive.” He said, looking out the window. James cursed and pulled forward.
“Wait—where are you going? You should’ve taken that exit,” the man snapped.
James smiled tightly. “Do me a favor. Put on your seatbelt.”
“What?”
“Put. On. Your seatbelt.”
“Why? What are you—” The man’s eyes flicked to how close they were getting to the car ahead.
“Because in about two seconds, I’m going to crash into that black car.”
“You WHAT?”
“PUT IT ON.”
“It’s eight in the fucking morning,” he muttered, fumbling with the belt. “I’m not awake enough for this shit—”
The impact came seconds later—not catastrophic but enough. The black car shuddered to a stop, its driver stumbling out, face twisted in outrage. “YOU AGAIN?” he shouted, pointing at James.
James opened his door slowly, stepping out with his hands slightly raised, mouth set in what might’ve passed for a conciliatory smile—then slammed a headbutt into his face. The driver barely had time to register anything before he crumpled, hands flying up to his nose.
Harry leapt out from the car, and sprinted towards the cab. He flung the rear door open and threw his backpack squarely into the chest of the stranger in the backseat— who gaped at him in utter shock, Harry shoved past him then slammed the door shut.
James delivered one last kick to the driver for good measure, then dove back into the cab, and sped off. Unfortunate for them— a patrol car rounded the corner just in time to see the assault and immediately sirens wailed.
The stranger blinked at Harry, bewildered. “Are you out of your mind? Did you just—did you literally just kidnap this boy?”
“There’s no other choice!” Harry shook his head fiercely. “They won’t let us meet any other way!”
James glanced at him in the mirror, grinning despite the chaos. “Hey, you miss me?”
Harry’s grin came quick and bright. “So much, dad. More than you can imagine.” He scrambled forward to kiss his father’s cheek.
The stranger sputtered. “Dad? He’s your father—? You know what? I can’t deal with this. Drop me off.” He demanded.
“I told you I wasn’t working,” James shot back, frustration rising with the sirens. “Damn it, I can’t shake them. I’ll drop you off when I lose them.”
The man mumbled about his morning being ruined and, with obvious reluctance, he reached forward and buckled Harry in. James pushed the cab faster; the city blurred into a strip of red and yellow lights.
They didn’t get far. Five minutes later four police cars boxed them in. James cursed—obviously frustrated and told Harry to stay in the car.
He climbed out slowly and handcuffs clicked around his wrists before he could even blink and Harry erupted, flinging himself out of the cab and raining tiny, furious fists on the officers. “Leave him alone! He’s my dad!”
One officer tried to soothe the boy while another shoved James into the back of the squad car. The brutality of the motion was a private humiliation played on public stage.
The stranger climbed out, he barely had time to process the scene before an officer approached him. “Sir, you’re a witness. You’ll need to come with us.”
He nodded slowly, eyes drifting back to the boy’s tears as the squad car pulled away
——
Orion Black sat behind a desk of dark polished oak, hands steepled and expression unreadable. On the couch across from him, Rowle trembled like a cornered animal. Marlene McKinnon stood nearby, stiff as iron.
“You come here today—on my daughter’s memorial—to beg forgiveness,” Orion said calmly. His tone was velvet over steel. “Do you need reminding of what caused her death?”
Rowle’s eyes squeezed shut. He had taken Orion’s money and turned it to drugs. And if there was one thing the world knew about Orion Black, it was this: drugs had killed his daughter, and he vowed to not sit aside and watch another parent lose a child the same way.
Orion Black is a man of his word.
Rowle dropped to his knees, pleading. The silence that followed was colder than rejection. Then Orion lifted a hand, a single command. “Take care of him.”
Remus and Peter stepped forward, seizing Rowle by the arms. His begging echoed uselessly as they dragged him out.
Orion leaned back in his chair, his face a mask carved from stone. “Dorcas,” he murmured, “Have you spoken to Regulus? He still refuses to answer my calls.”
“I’ll call him now,” Dorcas said, already pulling out her phone.
——
The interrogation room smelled faintly of metal and sweat.
“James Fleamont Potter,” the detective read, voice dripping disdain. “Ex-cop. Expelled from the force. Six months inside for bribes and abuse of power. Hell of a resume.”
“I was framed,” James said flatly. If he had earned a pound every time he’d said those three words, he wouldn’t be driving a cab.
“Sure you were.” The detective smirked. “That must be why they locked you up. Tell me—why’d you kidnap your son?”
James looked at him like he was the punchline of a joke. “What do you think? They won’t let me see him.”
“For good fucking reason.” The detective leaned forward now, tapping the file with two fingers. “His grandfather is Adam Evans for fucks’s sake! The journalist who runs a whole damn magazine. He’s made sure his grandson has everything. Private schools, drivers, nannies, you name it! Why on earth would he trust a washed-up ex-cop accused of bribes?”
James’ jaw clenched hard enough to ache. He said nothing.
——
“How do you know James Potter, Mr. Black?”
Regulus sat in a chair that was just uncomfortable enough to be intentional. His hair slightly mussed from running a hand through it too many times. “I already told you,” he said, annoyance bleeding into his voice despite his best efforts. “I don’t know him. I’m just a customer.”
The boy—Harry—sat a few seats down, feet dangling, gaze glued to the scuffed floor tiles. His sadness wasn’t loud, but it pressed against Regulus’ ribs like a small, steady fist.
His phone buzzed, slicing through the quiet. Regulus lifted it to his ear. “Hey, Dorcas.”
“Reg, your father won’t stop asking about you,” she said without preamble. “I know you don’t want to see him, but it’s Andromeda’s memorial. He really wants you to be here.” Regulus sighed loudly, letting his head tip back for a second.
”Where are you? I’ll send someone to pick you up,” Dorcas pushed.
“At the police station.”
“What? Why?” Her voice sharpened with rising panic.
“It’s not a big deal.” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Small car crash, I’m just a witness,”
“Send me your location.” She hung up before he could argue. Regulus rolled his eyes, he knows she’ll find him even if he doesn’t send her his location, so he did, just to save her the trouble.
He glanced sideways at Harry, who was sneaking curious looks at him. “Why doesn’t your grandfather let you see your dad?” he asked, softer than he’d spoken to anyone today.
“Because he thinks my dad’s a tramp,” Harry said simply, without bitterness—just a child repeating an insult he didn’t fully understand.
Regulus blinked. “And your mum?”
“She’s working in Switzerland. She’ll come back soon.” Harry swallowed, his voice wobbling slightly. “Do you know what’s going to happen to my dad?”
Regulus shifted to sit closer to him, softening despite himself. “Don’t worry. They’ll just ask him a few questions and he’ll be out soon.”
“Really?” Harry’s face lifted with desperate hope.
“Really.” Regulus gave him a small, reassuring smile. “If you want, I can talk to them for your dad.”
“They know my dad anyway,” Harry shook his head. “He’s an ex-cop.”
Regulus raised his eyebrows in surprise. Before he could say anything, the door swung open. Two elderly people rushed in quickly —Harry’s grandparents, Regulus assumed— Behind them came the driver from earlier, still clutching his nose like it might fall off any second.
The woman went straight to Harry, kneeling to stroke his cheek and murmur to him. The man, however, cut straight toward the driver, voice already raised. “You failed to protect my grandson from that lunatic!”
“Excuse me? That ‘lunatic’ is the boy’s father,” Regulus snapped, frustrated at the man’s attitude in front of a child. The man leered at him and Harry, brave and small, surged forward. “I want to see my dad, grandpa. Please!”
“Not today.” He grabbed Harry’s wrist in a grip that brooked no argument and started dragging him away, casting one last contemptuous look at Regulus on his way out.
In the hallway, James passed, flanked by two officers. Harry immediately broke free and threw himself into James’ arms. “Oh—Hey, baby. I’m so sorry about today,” James whispered, bending to wrap his arms around him as best he could with the cuffs. Harry just clung tighter.
“Look at me.” James cupped Harry’s face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away his tears. “Don’t be sad. I promise—everything is okay. I’ll fix it. Did I ever lie to you?”
“All the time.” Harry sniffed, giving a crooked, watery little smile. James huffed a laugh and kissed his cheek. “I love you so much.”
Regulus watched the exchange from a little distance away, something like a soft warmth curling behind his ribs. He kept watching as James and Adam Evans argued in low, tight tones—James saying something about getting Harry’s custody back, the older man laughing in offense—and then he watched Adam drag Harry away, the boy instantly starting to sob as he twisted to look back for his father.
Marlene walked past the crying boy, then turned and spotted Regulus leaning against the wall, eyes on the floor, lost in thought. “Everything alright? What happened here?” she asked.
“Family drama. Nothing i’m not used to,” Regulus shrugged.
She folded her arms. “Listen, i know it’s none of my business. But You haven’t seen your father in a whole damn year! He called you every day and you didn’t even have the decency to pick up!” Marlene jabbered and he stared at her flatly. “come on, Reg! The least you could do is come with me and see him now, it’s Andromeda’s memorial and he’s been waiting for you all day.”
“I’m not coming,” Regulus snapped, pushing off the wall and starting to walk away. He stopped when he passed an open door and saw James sitting inside, elbows on his knees, head bowed. He looked up just then and their eyes met. James gave him a small nod—an acknowledgment, a silent thank you, something wordless that passed between them. Regulus nodded back, almost before he could think better of it, and moved on.
Marlene followed, exasperation in every step “Reg, you’re going to get me in trouble. Your father specifically asked me to pick you up.”
“Fine,” Regulus said, spinning around to face her. “I’ll come—on one condition.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What condition?”
“You saw the crying little boy, right?” Regulus jerked his chin toward the hallway. “Get his father out of custody. Then I’ll go with you.”
Marlene blinked, then grinned like someone who’d already counted the cost. “Done,” she said, and went to move the pieces.
Ten minutes later she emerged from the chief’s office. “They’ll let him go,” she announced. “Now your turn. We’re going to your father’s,” she said, a triumphant glint in her eye. Regulus grumbled but followed, the protest small and familiar, which only widened Marlene’s grin.