harry's creature inheritance

Soft Days, New Beginnings

Part One: A Kind Week

The week after the apology felt like the house had opened its windows for the first time in months. Morning sunlight seemed warmer, and every corner held a softness that hadn't been there before. Lucius and Severus didn't just say they were sorry—every hour, they proved it.

Sev rose early to brew Arthur's favorite tea, just the right strength and honey. He even slipped a warming charm on the mug so it never cooled. Lucius, in turn, left little parchment notes for Ric: Your smile lights the room, Thank you for folding the tiny socks, Come find me for a hug when you need one. Each note felt like a bandage over last week's wounds.

Ric tried reaching back, too: baking chocolate–raspberry pastries (even when the first batch burned), insisting Sev take breaks from marking essays, and catching Luc's hand every time he walked past—as if re‑learning touch in slow motion.

Arthur healed more quietly. He flinched once when Sev dropped a book too loudly, then blushed crimson when Sev immediately apologized and crossed the room to hold him. Something in Arthur's posture eased after that. At night, he nestled in Sev's arms again without tension.

They all made a pact—unspoken, but solid—that no voice would rise in anger, no criticism would be thrown without first asking, What's really wrong? It wasn't perfect: Ric still had moments when an unexpected noise set his pulse racing; Arthur still went silent whenever memories of the slap flashed in his mind. Yet each time, the doms were patient, talking them through grounding exercises, staying up as long as needed.

One evening, Ric discovered a small silver bracelet Luc had charmed: four tiny initials—S, L, A, R—and a new charm: a baby rattle. Ric burst into grateful tears. Lucius simply wrapped him in a blanket and whispered, "We fix mistakes by loving louder."

The softness stuck. It became their new normal.

Part Two: The Day Our World Changed

Three quiet mornings later, a frantic Ric and art ran into the doms office. The subs bsaid  two urgent words: It's time.

Ric's breath caught. "Art and i's water just broke—it's happening."

Within minutes, Severus had flooed them to the hospital. Lucius followed close behind, arms full of the pre‑packed overnight bag Ric had assembled weeks earlier "just in case." Hallway lights blurred as they hurried past Healers and medi‑witches, Ric clutching Art's hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

A Healer ushered them into a private birthing suite. Arthur—already pale—gave Ric a brave smile. "We can do this."

"I never doubted it," Ric whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Contractions came fast. Ric wiped Arthur's brow, whispering encouragement, while Sev rubbed circles into Arthur's lower back between spells that eased pain without dulling sensation. Lucius paced outside the door, then offered his hand to squeeze each time Arthur needed fresh strength.

Hours slid past in a haze of whispered mantras and the hum of monitoring charms. Finally, as dawn brushed the windows pink, a sharp cry rang out.

"First baby's crowning—one more push," the Healer coached.

Arthur gripped Ric's fingers and bore down. Seconds later, a perfect wail filled the room. Ric's knees buckled in wonder. Their daughter—wrapped swiftly in a pastel blanket—was placed into his trembling arms. Soft brown hair, scrunched nose, impossibly tiny fists.

"Hello, little star," Ric breathed, tears spilling.

But there was no time to linger: "Second baby coming," the Healer announced. Lucius guided ric through another breath, and Severus smiled through unshed tears. A final push—and a second cry pierced the air. A boy, hair pale blond, a determined pout already gracing his lips.

Arthur collapsed back on the pillows, exhausted but radiant. Ric hovered, his whole world refocused into these two swaddled miracles.

Severus cleared his throat, voice thick. "Names?"

Ric's answer was ready. Gazing at his daughter: "amara jael malfoy-snape"

Arthur stroked the boy's cheek. "And  theodore jack Malfoy‑Snape."

Lucius chuckled wetly. "Named after his papa—he'll be just as brave."

Sev pressed a kiss to Arthur's damp hair. "Both of them are perfect."

They spent the next hour simply being: counting tiny toes, marveling at minuscule yawns, whispering promises to love louder than any fear. Eventually the twins drifted into contented sleep, tucked against their fathers' chests.

That night, back home, the foursome curled together on the sofa—Elara nestled against Ric's heartbeat, Jack breathing softly atop Arthur. Sev draped a knitted blanket over everyone, while Luc conjured a gentle glow of candlelight.

"We're parents," Ric whispered, awe weaving through every syllable.

Arthur smiled, gaze fixed on the sleeping infants. "We already were—from the moment we loved them."

Lucius clasped Ric's free hand. "Now we get to show them."

Severus nodded, emotion hitching his voice. "And we'll show ourselves—that healing can build something even stronger."

Wrapped in quilts and new‑parent wonder, they drifted into the sweetest, safest sleep any of them could remember. Outside, night deepened, but inside, love glowed steady—soft days behind them, brand‑new beginnings in their arms.