SOLSTICE

048

They didn't watch the next film. No one had the energy.

The room was full, but it felt muted - soft with the weight of exhaustion. People gravitated toward their own - old friends, found family.

Lunch wasn't far off, and the room was starting to scatter - small clusters of family and friends slipping away to stretch their legs or talk in private. Cyril had stepped outside with Alban, to the long corridor just beyond the Great Hall - quieter there, with only the faint hum of portraits and the soft echo of distant footsteps.

"Go to the Room of Requirement. That's where it is," Cyril spoke. "Take Blaise with you."

Alban nodded, a slight bow to his head.

But then Alban stopped.

"Cyril," he said gently. He tilted his head, subtly gesturing behind him.

Cyril turned.

Regulus.

Standing at a polite distance, not moving. Waiting.

He looked exactly how Cyril imagined he might, and nothing like it at all. Upright. Impeccable. Robes pressed and posture perfect - that pureblood composure carried in every line of him. But Cyril could read people. He noticed the way his fingers curled slightly, then uncurled. The twitch in his jaw. The faint shift of weight from foot to foot.

He was nervous.

It was something closer to hesitation. The kind of hesitation that came when you weren't sure if you were wanted. When you'd stood too long outside a door and didn't know whether to knock or walk away.

Cyril didn't feel anything sharp. No sting. No grudge. Just a quiet confusion.

Like watching someone else's memory and trying to make it your own.

That's my father.

He'd seen the name in records. Seen the face in photographs. But this - this was real in a way nothing had ever been.

And it left him still.

He gave a small nod to Alban. "Go on," he said, barely above a whisper.

Alban glanced once between the two of them, then bowed and stepped away, leaving Cyril.

Cyril walked forward. Slowly. Like he wasn't sure if his legs knew how to carry him toward something so... unknown yet familiar.

He stopped a few steps away. Regulus didn't move. His expression was carefully neutral - but Cyril could see it. The weight behind his eyes. The way he looked like he wanted to speak but didn't know what to start with.

Cyril didn't know either.

He'd spent his whole life without parents. There were no memories to cling to. No grief-soaked lullabies or half-forgotten embraces. Just silence. A silence he'd grown comfortable inside.

And now - here he was. Flesh and bone. A father.

Not a ghost. Not a concept.

Just a man.

For a moment, neither of them said a word.

Regulus shifted first, drawing a slow breath as though the very act of speaking to his own son required courage. Maybe it did.

Cyril was taller than him and older at this present moment.

"You've grown..." he said softly, almost unsure. "I mean-of course you have. That's foolish."
A quiet, self-deprecating huff escaped him.

Cyril's lips tugged at the corner, not quite a smile. "I suppose being born helps with that."

Regulus blinked - then let out a faint breath of something that was halfway to a laugh. It was small, but it cracked through the awkwardness like light under a locked door.

"I never-" he started, then stopped himself. Eyes dropped, as if weighing whether to continue. "I never imagined I'd get a chance to...you know, have it all that I'll have in future. Having a family. Before all this, I never imagined the possibility of it. And now that you're here, I... don't know if I'm allowed to want it."

Cyril's brows lifted just slightly. That... caught him off guard.

"Why?" he asked, carefully.

Regulus looked up at him, and for the first time, the mask slipped just a little.

"I was never there when you needed me. You had to go through all that if I had made the right choices. I am sorry, I-"

"You made the right choice." Cyril interrupted him.

"I did?"

Cyril saw the doubt swirling in his eyes.

"Yes," he nodded slowly. "It came with a price - and there are things I wish had gone differently. Still... I'm proud of you."

Regulus took a shaky breath. "You better at this than me."

"Don't put me on a pedestal," he said. "I don't know how to be anyone's son. You don't know how to be a father. Let's not pretend this is some bloody reunion on a postcard."

Regulus nodded slowly - not offended.

"That's fair," he murmured.

Another pause.

"But you're here. And I didn't walk away."

Regulus met his gaze, something like gratitude flickering through his expression.

"Is that your way of saying I can try?"

Cyril tilted his head, considering.

"...I'm saying the door's unlocked," he said softly. "Whether you step through it is up to you."

Regulus let out a breath through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching. "So..." he said, folding his arms with a tilt of his head. "Am I allowed to ask who the mother is?"

Cyril smirked, a glint of mischief flickering in his usually unreadable eyes. "That," he said, turning slightly as if ready to walk away, "you'll have to figure out for yourself."

Regulus blinked. "You're joking."

Cyril looked back over his shoulder; mouth tugged into a smug half-grin.

Regulus narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. "Give me a hint, then. Just one."

"It's someone you already like."

Regulus blinked as Cyril walked away.

"Aren't you coming? It's lunch time." He heard Cyril before he took turn and vanished from his eyes.

_____

This is a very small chapter. I just wanted to give you guys something regarding their relationship.

I thought alot about how their first conversation should be. I came up with many scenarios and pace and other stuff. I think this one suits the most.

And Cyril haven't realized it but Reggie's presence did help him loosen up a bit. I am loving their interaction the most and I loved writing this part.

Anyways byebye I'll come back with new update soon