Freedom, Good Or Bad?
In the summer of 1994, Sirius Black is declared free.
After a small, but overly-drawn out process, Peter Pettigrew is interrogated and sent to Azkaban.
This is good news.
What comes next however, is not.
After news article after news article comes out about the “Forsaken Black Heir,” his wards are swarmed with owls of owed child support claims.
Kreacher is ecstatic. Sirius is petrified.
He deals with them as they come, basically becoming a free-for-all blood bank. Test after test, Sirius is out of tears to cry.
Kreacher has prepped three rooms already.
Harry, after much arguing with Dumbledore, is a permanent fixture. He has shared custody of Draco, getting him on the weekends. Ron… he needs to go get Ron.
Dammit, he knew he forgot something.
“Bad young master, off!”
Harry is once again battling Kreacher over a kitchen knife. They struggle, Kreacher using elf magic and Harry using his wand. Walking the fine line of a tightrope, Harry pushes Kreacher off flailing, no mercy given.
With Harry more focused on winning, the knife gets sent hurling through the air. Sirius’s breakfast is interrupted by him getting stabbed.
Curling in on himself, he thinks that maybe he’s not cut out for this whole parenting thing.
—
Explaining the situation to Molly brings much trouble. It is collectively decided that no one except for Ron will know about his true parentage. Under the guise of going to hang with friends, Sirius will have custody of Ron every other weekend.
They talk for a little while, catching up on old times. It’s a much more pleasant experience than with Narcissa.
Sirius goes to open up the door to the living room, ready to leave. He hears a thunk on the other side. He quickly checks to see what he’s broken.
It’s just a young girls head.
A suspiciously familiar young girl.
“Molly… Why does Ginny have gray eyes…?”
Molly looks away.
—
“Your child purposely blew up our left wing in a temper tantrum.”
Narcissa drags Draco in by the ear, throwing him to Sirius before turning around to apparate.
Sirius grumbles under his breath, “Oh, now he’s my child.”
He has Draco by the scruff, directly handed by Cissa, and he’s not a small kid.
“Kid, you blew up a part of your house?”
Draco breaks away from him and straightens, patting his clothes down. He clears his throat, playing grown-up. “Your fool-hearted quests have tremendously impacted my marriage proposals.”
Sirius halts. Well… “Yeah, I suppose it kind of does.”
Draco nearly screams, skin flushing. “I have been engaged to my SISTER for fourteen years now!” Pansy Parkinson. His chest rises and falls quickly, peeved.
Sirius scratches his head. “My bad, champ.” He merely walks back into the house, ignoring his ranting and expecting Draco to follow.
What’re you going to do, right? What’s done is done. He should recommend France, he hasn’t tapped there.
—
Kreacher is happy. He’s whispering to himself under his breath in that creepy little way he does.
“She must be a Dagsworth, good blood.” The elf nods to himself, disappearing to continue the basement cleaning. Hopefully he doesn’t find anymore preserved elf body parts.
Sirius turns to the young girl, happy that his sons have someone sane and intelligent on their side. He clasps his hands and sits down on the couch across from them all.
“So, Hermione, is it?” He wiggles his eyebrows in that way that he knows makes people feel at ease.
It works, Hermione relaxes. “Er, I’m not sure actually.” She glanced at the sword plastered at the wall then back at Sirius. “You see, I was an ivf baby.”
He scratches his head. “Look, kid. You’re gonna have to help me out here.”
She huffs a laugh. “It means my father couldn’t conceive, so my parents used a sperm donor.”
He twirls his small beard hairs. “Ahh, I see. Does that mean you’ll never know who your blood father is?”
Hermione’s face scrunches up. “Well, I know his name, but I’m not sure how to reach him.”
Sirius leans forward eagerly. “Well, spill! I have connections, I’m sure I can string something together.”
She looks a bit hesitant, but continues anyways. “His name was James Black.”
Sirius feels his soul drain.
(December 1978.
“You don’t mind, do you?”
James paces. Lily must never know of this.
“I mean, fuck it. What could go wrong?”
James and Sirius drunkenly applied to a little donor facility to earn Sirius a little extra cash after being thrown out. And because when they were drunk, this sounded like a great idea.
They took and sold sperm.
This facility was a little different. This was a research facility. According to the letter taped to Sirius’s forehead, they used both of their sperms and successfully combined the dna, creating a monstrosity.
Apparently, in order to avoid government suspicion, they sent it out to be used after running multiple tests, research forever being documented on notes somewhere.
Surely nothing could come out of this, so it’ll be fine, right?)
—
A fourth bedroom is added for Ginny Weasley. Another one for Hermione.
“Will small Mistresses like pink? Blue? Purple? WILL THEY LIKE PURPLE?” The elf holds Harry in chokehold, spitting in his face.
Kreacher is fucking insane, but at least he’s happy.