A Child?!
“It’s true.”
Narcissa sets her teacup down on its respective plate, folding her hands and turning to look at him.
Sirius Black escaped Azkaban nearly four months ago now. In a spark of crazed desperation, he contacted his old house elf, Kreacher, to see if his old relative would be able to help him. Getting a positive answer, well, as positive as Kreacher could be, a date to meet was put forth.
Here he is, sitting in the Malfoy Manor dining room, horrifying information being brought to light.
“There’s just no possible way… literally none!”
Sure, it was a drunken one night stand built from the desperation to escape their mucked up circumstances, but he clearly remembers a protection spell being cast!
Narcissa fiddles with a handkerchief. “At the time, I was on a fertility potion.” It was unknown to the both Wizarding World and Lucius himself that the last Malfoy was infertile.
Regardless of how hard they tried, she could not conceive. Until a certain event took place however. If she used one of his leftover hairs to perform a test, no one had to know.
Sirius puts his head on the table, hands covering the nape of his neck.
“Fuck.”
“I want a heir ritual performed in private. My child deserves to claim his rightful heirship.”
Sirius muffles a groan. “Can’t I at least meet my kid first?”
She shrugs. “If you insist. However, he doesn’t know.”
“He doesn’t know?! Cissa! You let the boy parade around thinking he is the blood of that pompous arse? No wonder he’s a right mess.”
“It would do you well not to talk bad about my child in front of me.”
“Our child!” She ignores this. “During Yule break, I’ll have Lucius take a long trip elsewhere. The ritual will be held then.”
“Yeah? And how exactly are you going to make Mr. Stuffy break away from spoiling his would-be kid rotten?”
She sniffs. “Only a fool would not listen to his wife.”
He takes that as a possible imperius, or well… blackmail.
If only Sirius knew, this is the beginning of his end.
—
Sirius stands awkwardly in front of the blonde child, taking in every feature.
Draco Malfoy stands staring back, the pride of a peacock holding up his spine. Sirius looks to Narcissa for help. She sighs.
“Draco, darling. I have some… rather unfortunate news.”
At this, Draco’s head swivels towards his mother. “Are you dying!?” That must be it. He can’t see why else there would be a scruffy strange man in his house. This must be a doctor working overtime for his mother’s health.
Draco turns back towards Sirius. “Thank you for your service.” Sirius doesn’t know what to say. This action reminds him that this is just a child in front of him, not the big enemy he’s made him out to be in his head.
“No, Draco dear, this is Sirius Black.”
Draco immediately looks back at him with his barriers raised. “Are we murdering him? I’ll contact the farm.” At this, Narcissa laughs and eyes her son fondly.
Just a child, but an evil child.
“No, no. No pigs necessary today.” Today?! “There is something else we need to discuss.”
Her facial expression turns solemn, heart breaking momentarily. Draco is still worried, looking up at his mother, eyes darting between the two adults.
“Draco… Lucius is not your blood father. Sirius is.”
She gestures towards Sirius, putting all the attention to him. Thanks, Cissa.
Draco gapes, unable to fathom what he’s hearing. “What…?” He blinks. “Huh? How?!”
In a completely valid momentary childish tantrum, Narcissa takes him to another room to calm him down and talk him through this odd situation.
Sirius steals bread from the table and shoves it down his pants incase he’s not allowed to return.
They re-enter.
Draco, visibly more composed, walks up to Sirius and stops before him. By his body language, the boy is ready to fight him. He stares heatedly. Narcissa stares heatedly.
This lasts an intimidatingly one hundred and ninety eight seconds.
Sirius sweats.
Draco nods.
“Yes. He will do.” Sirius is unsure of what type of test he just passed.
“So uh…. champ?” Draco is unimpressed. “Junior?” He remains unimpressed. “Small fry?” Nothing is said, judgmental look speaking for itself.
Sirius backtracks. “I will not be bullied by my child! Merlin… my child….”
Trauma of a decade-plus from Azkaban catches up, adult child instantly turning into a blubbering mess.
“James… I’m a father. Help.”
Narcissa and Draco look at each other. “Okay, Sirius. Tomorrow we go to the vaults for an inheritance.”
Sirius continues to blubber. Narcissa takes her child and walks out of the room, neither wanting to witness the mess that is Sirius Black.
He uses the pillowcase of a nearby elf to wipe his nose.
—
The goblin stares down at the paper, not saying a word and face not giving his thoughts away.
The group can’t help but worry.
Sirius speaks up first. “Is there an issue here?”
The goblin drags his eyes up, eerie stare hitting Sirius. What’s up with everyone looking at him funny? “Yes.”
No one says anything nor moves.
“Uh, well, what is it?”
The goblin takes a long sip from his drink, looking tireder than when he first greeted them.
“I am unable to complete this task because Draco Malfoy is not the oldest Black heir.”
“Harry, oh Harry! It must be because of my godson, Harry! I never completed the heirship but-“
“-No. That’s not it. Young Potter is younger than Mr. Malfoy.”
“Oh no…” Horror drips down his spine like a slimy slug. Putting a hand up to his mouth, he whispers out, “There’s another one?”
“It seems so. Please do not bother us again until you get your situation sorted. This has been a waste of time.”
He leads the quieted group out and shuts the door in their faces.
“So… I have a sibling?” Narcissa shakes her head, resigned to the failure that is Sirius Black.
Sirius needs to have his hourly breakdown, instinctively turning into Padfoot.
“Do we have to keep him, Mother?”
“Yes, Draco. We do have to keep your blood Father, however unfortunate that is. He is supplying your annual Black allowance now.”
Draco huffs.
Sirius whines, feeling that life is about to get a whole lot more troublesome.