Marauders age regression one shots

Sorries

"Sorry..." Harry mumbled for the third time in less than five minutes, nervously pulling at the sleeve of his jumper.

Draco looked up from where he was folding a blanket on the bed, brows furrowing. "What are you apologizing for this time, Harry?"

Harry shifted on his feet, avoiding Draco's gaze. "For... um... standing in the way." He stepped aside awkwardly, even though he hadn't been blocking Draco at all.

Draco's heart gave a familiar ache—a mix of frustration and deep affection. It wasn't new for Harry to apologize for things that didn't need an apology. It was just part of who he was, always assuming that somehow, he was doing something wrong. But it hurt Draco every time.

Harry mumbled again, "Sorry..."

Draco sighed and walked over to him, gently placing his hands on Harry's shoulders. "No more sorries, love. Okay?" He lowered his head to catch Harry's downturned gaze.

"But—"

"Nope." Draco pressed a finger to Harry's lips, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No buts, either."

Harry blinked, his green eyes large and unsure. He let out a little huff, and Draco could tell he was already starting to feel small—his shoulders drooped, his hands fidgeted with his jumper, and the way he bit his lip was pure habit from headspace creeping in.

Draco guided him to sit on the bed. "C'mon, bunny," he whispered, sitting beside him. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Harry curled into Draco's side, his head tucked under Draco's chin. "I just... I dunno," he mumbled, voice small and soft. "I feel like I keep messing things up."

Draco's arms wrapped tighter around him. "You're not messing anything up, Harry. Not even a little bit."

"But I made a mess earlier in the kitchen," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible.

Draco smiled gently. "That's not a problem, baby. You made the mess trying to help, didn't you?"

Harry nodded against Draco's chest. "I was trying to make tea... but I spilled the sugar everywhere."

"And that's okay," Draco said softly, kissing the top of Harry's messy hair. "Messes can be cleaned. You don't need to say sorry for that."

Harry sniffled, pulling his knees up and burying his face further into Draco's chest. "It's just... I feel like everything's my fault."

Draco's heart ached. He hated that Harry carried so much guilt, even over the smallest things. He tilted Harry's chin gently, making the boy meet his eyes. "Look at me, love."

Harry looked up, his lip trembling slightly.

"None of this is your fault, okay?" Draco whispered, brushing his thumb over Harry's cheek. "You don't have to carry everything on your shoulders."

Harry blinked at him, his face softening as Draco's words settled over him.

Draco gave him a little smile. "You know what I think?"

"What?" Harry whispered, his voice still fragile.

"I think," Draco said, tapping the tip of Harry's nose, "you're perfect just as you are. Even if you spill sugar or think you're in the way, you're still my favorite person in the whole world."

Harry sniffled again, but this time it came with a small, shy smile. "Really?"

"Really." Draco kissed his forehead, cradling him close. "No more sorrys, bunny. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry whispered, nuzzling into Draco's neck, feeling lighter than he had all day.

Draco smiled, rocking them gently. "That's my good boy."

And for the rest of the evening, every time Harry looked like he might say sorry, Draco would simply kiss his forehead and remind him, "No more sorries, love. You're doing just fine."