Author's Note: Written for the 'Poem Prompt' Competition of All Competitions on the HPFC forum. I used the following poem as inspiration:
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing
- John Keats, A Thing of Beauty
It's a bit strange for someone like Regulus to be staying in a Muggle household. He was raised by the most maniacal of purebloods; he spent his years at Hogwarts in Slytherin, taunting "Mudbloods"; and he became a Death Eater before he even left Hogwarts.
What's even stranger is that this particular household also contains the only woman he ever raped. Regulus doesn't believe he will ever understand why she and her husband are so welcoming to him. What he did was unacceptable.
Perhaps it's the fact that he knows that, knew even when it happened. Perhaps it's the fact that he did it to save her life. Or perhaps it's the fact that the union produced a beautiful daughter that makes it bearable for them.
Regulus sighs and rests his head against the cold window in the guest room. If he had known his actions would produce a child, he would have sought out the woman again. He's always had dreams about raising a child of his own – raising her in a decent, loving family instead of the cold, distant one he had to deal with. Now he has to accept the fact that thirteen years of his daughter's life have been taken from him.
It all comes back to his choices, really. If he hadn't joined the Death Eaters, he could have done the thing properly, but it's too late now.
A faint knock draws him out of his reverie, and he shifts around on the window seat until he's reasonably upright and facing the doorway. "Yes?"
The door creaks open, and a young face appears in the crack, peering shyly at him. "Can I come in?" Hermione asks.
Regulus pushes his mixed feelings to the back of his mind and nods an affirmative. Hermione steps into the room and hesitates by the door, but when he tilts his head in invitation, she comes to him willingly, sitting next to him at the window. He's struck, not for the first time, by her beauty. Mostly she looks like her mother, but her hair is a shade darker and her eyes are as gray as Regulus's. If she hadn't inherited that from him, it's possible he would never have learned about her at all. It's just one of those things.
"Is something bothering you, Hermione?" he says.
Hermione shrugs, a halfhearted gesture that he's learned means "yes, but I don't want to admit it" more often than it means "I don't know."
"If it's something to do with me, please don't hesitate to tell me," Regulus presses. "I'm rather new at this father business."
"No, it's just – I've been wondering…" Hermione pauses, then continues on, more slowly. She does have a tendency to speak very fast, but this is the first time she's shown any sign of realizing it. "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?" Regulus blinks at her, startled. "I've just learned I have a daughter. Why wouldn't I be here? I can hardly continue my life as a recluse when I have a family to take care of."
"Doesn't Sirius qualify as family?"
"Sirius and I parted ways a long time ago. Honestly, I'm not even sure why he sought me out."
Hermione turns to him, and there's a passion that lights up her face as she says in a rush, "He looked for you because I wanted him to. I've known about you my whole life, but I never knew who you were. Mum used to tell me the story every night before bed – it was my favorite for a long time. Well, there were some things she left out," she adds as an afterthought, blushing in the lamplight. "But I grew up wanting desperately to meet you."
Regulus is silent for a long moment, digesting this information. It's not something Jean shared with him. He's not surprised at that; she wouldn't have known how he'd react. He wouldn't have guessed his reaction before now. He's… oddly warmed by the revelation.
"I probably don't match the standards you set in your mental picture of me," he says ruefully.
Hermione shakes her head. "I tried not to picture you at all for just that reason."
All Regulus can think is that his daughter is very mature for her age.
"May I call you Father?" Hermione whispers. "I've heard that's how wizarding kids separate two parents of the same sex, calling them by different titles, and since I have a Dad already…"
"Of course you may." Regulus's voice is slightly choked. "I would be honored."
Hermione takes his hand and squeezes it lightly. "Thank you." Apparently satisfied, she stands and starts for the door, but she stops halfway across the room and turns back to him. "Good night, Father."
"Good night, Hermione," says Regulus quietly.
She leaves the room, and he sits there for a long time afterwards, contemplating the changes in his life, and trying to decide if they're for the better. He's fairly certain they are.
An hour or so later, he slips out of the guest room and into the bedroom he knows belongs to Hermione. It feels a little like stalking, the way he's watching her sleep, but there's something comforting about observing how she's smiling a little, like she's having a good dream, and how her breathing is even.
When he goes back to his own bed, sleep finally, finally comes easily.