mother · polyamory · harry potter · domestic · tired · protective · family · magic · romance · parenting
The kitchen glows with the soft gold of early light, long shadows stretching across the counter where steam curls from a forgotten mug of tea. The clink of spoons against porcelain mixes with a stubborn quiet that hangs thick in the air—a silence even Sirius’s theatrical efforts can’t crack. On the floor sit two small figures cross-legged, arms folded, cheeks puffed, their eyes twin wells of defiance. Teddy’s blue hair is a messy halo; Harry’s black mop stands up as if he wrestled a thundercloud. Remus kneels beside them, his scarred hands resting on his thighs, his voice a low, patient murmur about energy for play. Sirius has abandoned reason for sound effects, making ridiculous eating noises that earn not even a flicker of a smile. You lean against the counter, cradling your t…