Biting Teacups and Love Potions

The two men nodded their heads at each other, communicating silently, the older, darker, thinner man slipping out of the back of the almost abandoned building in the nearly abandoned Siberian town. Sirius fumbled with the latch slightly, the rusty chain rustling slightly while Sirius prayed that they were alone. The younger man, blond and baby faced, with supple arms bursting out of his coat, fresh out of school, recently graduated out of Durmstrang and with an air of eagerness reminded Sirius so much of himself at the beginning of the war, minus the blondness of course. Five years of endless fighting and recon missions had truly aged Sirius, his paranoia and suspicion ever growing and the lines on his face growing from stress and not laughter. Still, he had reason to be happy tonight, he was getting three weeks off to recoup with the Order back in England, before heading back out to Eastern Europe to try to round up more support. It had been surprisingly fruitful, although Muggle political tensions in the area over complicated things a touch. He turned around, eyes scanning over the alleyway and landing on behind a rubbish bin. His eyes narrowed, and he breathed out very slightly, wincing when the freezing air burnt his face.

“Revelio!” Sirius hissed, pointing at the can. His suspicions had paid off, the telltale signs of an improperly casted shielding charm, a wavy almost fuzzy outline was sliding off and a very scared, almost identical (albeit shorter) man stood guiltily, hands held up in the air.

Sirius lowered his wand and adjusted his worn muffler and scarf.

“Regulus? Why the actual fuck are you here you bastard? You don’t understand what you’re getting into here, go on back to your scary Voldy lair, the great Black reunion you’ve got going on here could disrupt the entire war if you don’t leave right now. I will not have months of my work freezing my ass off in the fucking Arctic wasted because you’ve finally realised genocide is kind of bad and you want me to bail you out, understood,” Sirius hissed, pointing his wand back to the smaller, shaking man as Sirius walked closer and hid into the shadow of the alleyway.

As Regulus opened his mouth, the blond man opened the grubby door of the brutalist building, looking both ways and looking stricken at Sirius. Sirius shook his head slowly at the man and put his index finger over his mouth as Sirius pulled him and Regulus back down behind the rubbish bin. Sirius waited for the telltale sound of the crunch of snow and an apparition crack before looking back at Regulus.

As he looked at his younger brother’s face it was difficult not to immediately forgive him, but Regulus had made his choices long ago and he’d be damned if he’d let everyone else down just on the off-chance Regulus had changed.

“I know things are complicated and I promise I’ll explain everything to you later. But for now. Lily and James Potter have been killed. I’m sorry. I found out from Severus. I’m sure they’re waiting for you back at a safehouse, but I suggest, from what I’ve heard, it would be best to go to the scene now.” Regulus smiled eerily, a mix of nervousness and begging. His pale blue eyes hid his emotion well, cold and merciless. It had served as a survival method, necessary for a lifetime of hiding his true thoughts, lest he face consequences. Sirius’ own wide brownish green eyes told everything he thought, wearing his emotions on his sleeve. Right now, rage flickered through them.

“I leave on my terms big brother. A bientôt !” Regulus disappeared with a crack and that evil defiant smile, as if he was simply getting revenge for a stolen teddy, or cheating in a childhood game.

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Sirius stormed into the house, worries of Voldemort or a trap forgotten as he desperately hoped for the best. It had to be okay. An idiotic power play of Regulus, his typical attention seeking going too far. Or perhaps he was under instruction from Voldemort himself? The possibilities raced through Sirius’ mind. War had changed him, every death feeling slightly less like a stab to the heart, but this was different. His James, his Lily. Him and Remus had even temporarily moved in for a few weeks in between finding a new flat.

He’d begged his friends to change the secret keeper, just in case. Anything to prevent this. It had to be a false alarm, surely, Regulus had to be mistaken, or pulling some insane revenge plan off. Maybe he was under the control of the Imperius spell. He wouldn’t put it past the other Death Eaters. Even when Reggie had tried to play the part of obedient Black son, the new Heir, he had never seemed the perfect candidate. He walked through the long hallway, the dark lighting casting eerie shadows on the family portraits proudly hung up, usually a source of comfort in the warm home and now making him shiver. He carefully stepped over a smashed vase, one he recognised from Lily’s childhood home, a faux blue China piece, depicting a floral farmhouse scene, the only real thing she had of her muggle childhood in Devon and then his eyes flickered over to a pool of seeping blood. Sirius winced, but he looked again, and it wasn’t there. The war always had his mind playing tricks on him. Whenever he shut his eyes, all the bodies melded into one and he saw flickering images of the way each person died, pools of blood, hangings, tortured to death, a simple quick killing curse. He felt weary, as though he’d seen it all but nothing in the world could measure up to seeing the sight of James Potter’s body on the Persian carpet he and Lily had received as a wedding gift from an eccentric aunt of Peter’s.

James. Or rather his body. His collar was slightly askew, and you could see a raggedy handkerchief Sirius had lovingly embroidered with a stag under Lily’s careful instruction in a muggle activities dinner party in their Seventh Year poking out of James’ left pocket. His left shoelace was unravelling, something that happened to every single pair of James Potter’s shoes because he had a habit of fidgeting with them when he sat at a desk, one leg crossed over the other and the poor shoelace twiddled and abused while James thought. Sirius distinctly recalled Mrs Potter wondering how he seemed to get through so many shoelaces during the school year, and eventually giving up and buying unbreakable ones imported from Japan. Sirius supposed James hadn’t bought himself any more, or couldn’t get ahold of them thanks to the war, and Mrs Potter hadn’t been there to buy him anything, not since succumbing to Dragonpox several months before. The funeral had been small, you couldn't advertise large gatherings, lest further tragedies occurred. It had broken James’ heart, seeing his beloved parents farewelled by so few of their loved ones.

Sirius stepped over James’ body, gazing at his facial expression, trying to discern meaning from it, like that would help anything at all. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his lips chapped. Sirius remembered all of them giddily laughing around the common room fireplace one year, where they’d all stayed back for Remus, whose father said it was best not to come home after he intercepted one of he and Emmanuel Clement, a Beauxbatons exchange student with a brown face and dimples who had enchanted Remus’ fifteen-year-old heart’s love letters. Sirius remembered the way Remus came back the summer afterwards with sadness in his eyes and a little bottle of ashes, from the burnt letters his father had shown him as a punishment. Sirius was nearly sick at the memory, remembering how James had received nearly 15 different lip balms, in every colour, size, and shape imaginable that year. The way Marlene had endeavoured to buy him the latest muggle release, writing to her cousin Eliza begging for a muggle magazine then mailing in the order form after sneaking into London. She had picked out a perfect one for James, she had assured the others and as he opened it a few of the Muggleborn girls smiled slightly, eyeing the swirls of pearly pink in the small tube, holding his face as she laughed, applying it on him while James shut his eyes. The way everyone laughed uproariously as James opened his eyes, smiling pleasantly at the group. “What’s so funny?” he’d asked, tilting his head like a puppy, and everyone laughed harder at the smeared application of the pearly pink bubblegum muggle lip balm. Marlene shrugged defensively, “Guys, you try putting lip balm on someone who doesn’t stop moving!” Lily had leaned into James, carefully wiping the excess from the edges of his lips with her pinkie, eyeing their combined work. Emmeline, a quiet presence, had pulled out her ornate heirloom silver pocket mirror from her pocket, and handed it to James, who chuckled. Despite all the gifts, James' lips were always slightly chapped, thanks to his nervous habit of chewing his lip while in deep contemplation. It had driven Lily mad for a time, and Sirius remembered overhearing her and Remus gossiping about it, Lily’s body tucked underneath one of the ancient quilts kept on the wooden blanket stand near the fire in the common room, while Remus used Sirius’ sleepy body for warmth. Lily had never objected to Sirius being technically present for their talks, as long as he stayed relatively silent. Consequently, Sirius usually utilised the time to cuddle his boyfriend, still in that teenage honeymoon phase. Sirius shut his eyes tightly, panicking that he couldn’t remember anything else James had received that Christmas.

His eyes were shut but Sirius was sure they would still be a steely deep blue, as they always had been. Would he have felt betrayed by Sirius? God, did he blame Sirius in his last moments. Sirius couldn’t live with that. It was his fault, he knew it, he’d always known it from the time James had waved at him on the Platform at Kings Cross, it was always his fault, he had been born as God’s least favourite, the demon child, the unwanted, the perturbed, there was no other reason for it, but it wasn’t on purpose, he had never planned for this to happen.

He couldn’t look at him for more than that, and walked up the stairs, every step dragging on his soul. Lily’s body lay further into the house, in Harry’s room, evidently having tried to shield him. Her green cardigan was torn at the elbow, Remus having painstakingly knit it for her during his recovery and patched a couple times since. It dawned on Sirius that he would never listen to Remus and Lily bickering about who had to mend it, would never watch Lily stick her tongue out while threading a needle to start haphazardly darning with whatever yarn she could find, such a Lily thing to do. She said the multicoloured, rough patches added personality, and they’d all joked that if she hadn’t been a witch she could’ve been an editorial designer at Vogue, and Lily had wrinkled her nose in mirth, wondering how a girl from smalltown Devon could ever make it to a Vogue photoshoot in London, Paris or Milan. Her green eyes, glassy and lifeless, her auburn hair shorter and darker than when he had first met at age 11, lay in a dishevelled sheet behind her. Sirius remembered the way James had looked at her when the slightly frizzy, but tidy strawberry blond hair of first year had turned into sleek, brighter curls after the summer. His eyes had widened and his flustered look morphed quickly into smooth confidence while he’d patted his hair. Sirius didn’t even really know when young Lily’s face had lengthened, and the hair darkened to auburn, like her aunt, and the two plaits had turned into wearing it out. She still firmly clutched her wand in her right hand. 10 ¼ inches, willow. They’d all been required to tell Dumbledore what wands they had for identification purposes during a scrimmage during an early Order meeting, back then they were all barely 17, some of them not even legal yet, a fact Dumbledore pretended to be unaware of. Sirius had spun Lily’s wand in his hands, willow like his mother’s. Lily had never taken any wand spiritual ideas to heart, saying it might help with different types of magic, but she refused to believe they represented the type of soul she had. It was strange to believe this was the last time he’d ever see her. Unless they had an open casket funeral. He nearly gagged at the thought. He felt stuck between being unable to think, paralysed with pain and thinking all too much about these mundane details.

He felt numb. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. His friends were gone. That filthy traitor Peter. It was all his fault; he should never have persuaded them to switch Secret Keepers. And now look at what he’d done. The house was in ruins. The home that James and Lily had planned to raise their children in, the home that Sirius had helped his friends paint, and decorate, the photographs of Harry’s 6 month birthday Mary and Marlene had set up like a baby modelling shoot that hung on the walls, the snitches James had stolen over the years spinning around the playroom while Harry looked in wonder, that would never, ever be anyone’s home again. Harry screamed in the background, a hoarse cry for attention, interrupting Sirius’ thoughts. With a jolt Sirius remembered that Lily was pregnant. She had only told him, and Remus, Marlene, Dorcas and Mary hadn’t been able to come that day, busy on Order Business. Him and Remus had sat firmly apart, remaining cordial for Lily’s sake, avoiding her gaze when she looked at them quizzically. Shit, the least he could do was try and save the baby, for his friends' sake. Yes, he could think later. Couldn’t think about what-ifs. Focus on the present. And right now, he had to save Lily and James’ unborn child’s life. Could babies even live after their mothers stopped breathing? Sirius didn’t know anything about female stuff, hadn’t had time to dissect his upbringing, question even more about it. Sirius picked up Harry gently, placing him on his shoulders, before taking a deep breath. He clutched Lily’s limp body, stroking her clammy forehead and apparated away.

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He stumbled into the Floo of St. Mungo’s, coughing, eyes watering as he breathed the soot in accidentally, unaccustomed to the method of travel. He’d grown used to the swirl of Portkeys, or apparating 6 times to make sure no one was following you. In comparison, Floo felt medieval. He did wonder how he ended up in the Floo when he had in fact apparated but supposed he did envision the wide fireplaces of the lobby and not specifically where he wanted to land….

As he acquainted himself with standing in the room, he realised the unfamiliar stench of disinfectant was everywhere. It was so sterile, it was horrific. Sirius Black was used to hiding in the dark Arctic circle, getting barely any sunlight for months at a time and hearing news months after the fact. The bright hospital lights and beeping monitors hurt his ears, although he was perfectly aware other people didn’t have canine hearing. The disinfectant smell burnt his nose in ways that the subzero temperatures couldn’t. There were people milling about everywhere, so many more people than Sirius was used to. He hadn’t been in places like this in, well before the war. Not since his Hogwarts days, perhaps a little before. Even in his last years there, there were whispers, and some families had relocated overnight, with some excuse. They all knew the truth, but never said anything. To admit the truth was a death sentence in those days, it made you a target, for either the resistance or Voldemort himself. These days, Sirius wasn’t sure which was worse. Sirius shook his head and stepped forward. Harry pulled his hair and Sirius winced. Harry laughed, his gummy teeth showing.

“Welcome to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, how may I help you,” said the young witch, nervously looking at the group.

She had seen many strange things working at St Mungo’s, limited but not included to splinched intestines, colour changing toenails and waffle scented skin excretions but freshly dead pregnant women and blood-soaked men with small children were new. It wasn’t the job she had trained for, nor a long-term career she wanted. She longed for the times before the war, when it was biting teacups and love potions. “So much had changed”, the early 20s aged woman thought wistfully, a curl falling out of her thickly gelled back bun.

“She’s pregnant, but she’s kind of dead, I mean she is definitely dead, but like so I don’t know but maybe you can-,” Sirius felt so lost, what were you meant to SAY in these situations? He didn’t know much about pregnancy either, he was barely older than Regulus and didn’t remember his mother being pregnant at all. They were the youngest of the family more or less too, some distant family in France that they occasionally spent time with had a few younger ones, but their mothers weren’t close enough to have seen each other pregnant. It was times like this that Sirius realised just how young and sheltered he was, despite his gruff, manly exterior he had acquired working on international near suicide missions in the Arctic.

The witch sent them to the Emergency ward, immediately. It was clearly an emergency. A Healer sat them in the waiting room, as they tried to save the child. The blare of sirens and spells hit Sirius in waves, the sounds, the grief, it hit him over and over and he sat numb and paralysed with fear. It was a unique situation. How many people came clutching dead bodies and children, begging them to save an unborn child’s life. Besides, most witches he’d ever known gave birth at home, with experts they’d found within their social circles. Purebloods were very traditional in that regard, but Sirius had never really heard the fine details, always shooed away by Bella or Cissy- Bellatrix, Narcissa, he reminded himself harshly, letting a wave of grief for his mad cousins pass over him momentarily, “Little boys don’t belong snooping in women's business,” Narcissa would say disdainfully, filing her nails despite being but thirteen or so herself, while Andy would smile and palm him and Reggie off with sweeties, and they would sprint upstairs with them, bribing Kreacher not to tell with a jelly baby if he was lucky to have had Muggle sweets smuggled to them, resorting to Honeydukes chocolates if they didn’t have any. The nasty beast would scoff them down, peeling their heads off gleefully, or licking the chocolate loudly. Sirius remembered smacking Regulus across the face because he’d eaten all the sour jelly babies and Regulus, a young master of only five, still chubby and with all his baby teeth still intact had wailed and Sirius had been put into the scullery for an hour, unable to move, desperate to urinate, the liquid seeping out of the door and resulting in a greater punishment, Regulus apologising that night, whispering across their shared nursery at the time. The day after, Mother had declared Sirius was too old for a nursery, couldn’t share with his sister anymore, and they had been separated forevermore by a corridor, their nightly whispers soon ceasing and Sirius door being locked against Regulus more and more often until he ceased to even try and get in by the time Sirius started at Hogwarts.

Another Healer, this one a young, smiley witch that looked vaguely familiar stepped into the room. It dawned on Sirius that she’d been a few years above, and had dated someone in Andromeda’s year, years ago. He’d walked in on them in a greenhouse snogging one morning, although, he of course had been wearing the cloak, so he had slipped back out and gagged silently. They’d been trying to brew a potion to mess with Severus’ stuff, but abandoned the plan when Severus’ mother ended up in hospital and Sev became human to them.

“Mr Black? I have good news and bad news. Firstly, my condolences about your loss. We have some pamphlets on grief on sublevel 6D, next to the linen supply cupboard. And, you’re very lucky you made it here on time. We were able to successfully resuscitate the infant, and she is currently in stable but critical condition. The infant is currently in the Children's ward. We recommend that she be moved to a Muggle hospital, as soon as possible. She was only 24 weeks gestation. It's a miracle she survived. She’ll have a higher chance of survival in a Muggle hospital. She’ll be in there for a few months most likely, and will have some lasting health implications, if she lives,” she said, matter of factly, writing something on her clipboard with a glittery quill that occasionally sputtered out Celestina Warbeck tunes.

She? So, it was a girl. Lily and James had never gotten to know they had a daughter. They’d never done anatomy scans because they couldn’t risk trained outsiders coming into their home, or leaving the safety of their abode. Remus had offered but he’d only made it through the theory part of Healer training before having to go on the run. Plus, they had kept it a surprise for Harry because they “didn’t care a jot about that sort of thing and would prefer to focus on having a baby instead of what kind of baby it would be”, so he assumed they’d planned the same for the next baby. He hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to them as much as he had when they were expecting Harry, so he frankly had no ideas about any of their plans. He’d only heard about the pregnancy in fact, when he’d heard it from a vague acquaintance in the Order while he passed secret information back to Britain. The man, Hedwin Smethleton had kindly told him of the rumour and they both made a silent agreement not to say anymore. It wouldn’t do to get emotionally invested in anything during the war. It had made Sirius’ heart feel warm for the next few days of hiding out in a warehouse though, and he had prayed they’d stay safe.

“I am afraid to say that there is quite a lot of paperwork to fill out and discussions to be had about this unique situation. First things first I’ll take you to the Children's Ward, where this little gentleman will receive a general checkup,” she said, walking to the elevator, which was decorated with a buzzy Hippogriff growth chart.

Sirius nodded, although he privately disagreed with her assessment of Harry as a little gentleman. Harry was generally very small, spirited and boisterous, with a habit of mischief, not well mannered at this stage yet at all. Harry was fast asleep, laid across Sirius’ lap, still blood-soaked and sticky, looking strangely angelic with his thumb in his mouth, and stains on his slightly too large clothes. Sirius picked him up, astounded at how light and yet how heavy he was and briskly followed the Healer. He hadn’t held Harry for months, but also distinctly remembered one of his 5th cousins however many times removed being quite a bit heavier at a similar age.

Sirius had never even known there was a Children's Ward in St Mungo’s, having never been seen by a Healer during his youth. He’d been seen by Madame Pomfrey if anything critical happened over the summer he hadn’t been able to fix himself, but generally he was just fine. His mother didn’t believe in taking him and Regulus to get check-ups, and just healed them herself when necessary. Purebloods, he thought, shaking his head. It was another stark reminder of how unprepared he was for this, for raising a baby, for being in society outside Hogwarts. He might be assassinating Russian blood purists for a career, but he didn’t seem to know anything about the Wizarding World beyond the bubble he’d been raised in. Remus had lovingly showed him bits of his Muggle childhood too, during their time in the shared flat but it wasn’t nearly enough.

The Paediatric Ward was a colourful place. There were toys, and paintings and books in the waiting area, and all the Healers seemed nice. However, Sirius couldn’t help but notice that it was rather out of date, not just the decor, which reminded Sirius of his own parents' childhoods, but the equipment was clearly older than in the rest of the hospital. Another loss to the war shortages, he supposed.
“I’m Healer Jones, and who is this young man?” said an older man, with glasses and smile lines. He vaguely reminded Sirius of a more trustworthy Dumbledore.

“Well, this is all confidential, as you must know, but this is Harry Potter,” Sirius replied in a whisper. You never knew who had Death Eater connections really.

Healer Jones nodded, “Of course, highly confidential.” He smiled knowingly, and Sirius couldn’t help but think he already knew.

After the checkup, which was in a small, colourful but like the rest of the ward, rather lacking room. Sirius made a mental note to make a large donation to the place. Alphard’s coffers of gold had to go to some kind of good cause. Thankfully Harry was just fine, if a little traumatised and lacking in Vitamin D, presumably from spending the entirety of his short life inside. Developmentally he was also a little behind and needed to be vaccinated against a few things as well, both wizard and muggle illnesses, as he was at an “extremely high risk” of muggle disease exposure, whatever that meant. He vaguely wondered if it was because Lily’s family are Muggles- were Muggles, he corrects himself, remembering Lily’s sadness in the first year out of school when she found out they’d died in a freak accident on their way to board a cruise they’d won tickets too. She had begged her parents not to go, promised to buy them cruise tickets later, since she had a bad feeling about it, but they hadn’t taken any notice and promised her they’d be fine. Petunia had of course not been present in this and was very much alive, but, as Sirius thought sourly, ‘She hadn’t counted as family of Lily’s for a long while.’

Dumbledore appeared silently into the room and Sirius flinched, hand going instantly to his wand holster. He relaxed momentarily but narrowed his eyes at the man who vaguely resembled Jesus, in flowing robes with a strange halo of light around him, smiling softly, angelically. Sirius briefly wondered how he always manipulated light to make him look so flattering, so trustworthy it was infuriating. Sirius wanted to throttle him at this thought. How could he come in here smiling, when Harry and his sister had both nearly died, and his best friends were gone? How could he smile on a day like this? The day his world irreversibly crashed-

“Sirius,” The older man’s eyes twinkle soberly and momentarily Sirius is blinded by appreciation for the man, just as he felt around him when he was merely eleven years old. He crinkles his nose slightly, trying to put up his Occlumency shields. Standard Dumbledore Protocol they called it, him and his friends but in his haste he forgot. It was never a natural process for him, like it was for Regulus and Severus who were forced to hide so much of themselves to be safe. Sirius always wore his heart on his sleeves, his feelings proudly displayed to the world in feisty fits and outbursts. He had to work so hard to put up a shield even half as strong as Severus’ instant one. James had practiced with him for ages back in 6th year, before kindly telling him that he can’t be good at everything and the memory makes Sirius’ eyes sting slightly, overwhelmed with grief that can’t dissipate.

“Dumbledore.” Sirius says gruffly, looking at the man boldly and seeing his true self, a doddering fool manipulating them all as vulnerable, eager teenagers for a war Dumbledore had started a century earlier.

“Pettigrew’s in custody. You will have to make a statement to the Wizengamot of course,” the old man said, not meeting Sirius’ eyes, perhaps realising the extent of Sirius’ long-term resentment for the man. It had been brooding for a while. Lots of thinking time while standing in the snow for hours.

“Indeed. I’ll do anything in my power to make sure he’s locked up for eternity. For what he’s done to us.” Sirius was seething, shaking in anger. It scared him, he hadn’t been so quick to anger in years- It reminded him eerily of Bella- Bellatrix’s quick temper, the way she went from charming and darling to angry, boxing his ears in moments. He didn’t want to see himself reflected in Bellatrix, he couldn’t, shouldn’t have anything in common with that crazy murderer, the psychopathic bitch, even if once they had both been the scolded ones of the family, too rash, too extreme, too impatient.

“I was informed about the other child. The girl. Your quick-thinking saved her, remember that. I’m very proud of you Sirius. I always have been. Despite this I’m afraid I really must take Harry-” Dumbledore’s voice nearly warmed Sirius, made him feel like he really could give him up just to feel validated-

Sirius interrupted, his grey eyes steely and he growled menacingly. He forced Dumbledore out of his mind harshly, spurred by his determination to protect Harry, and Dumbledore sighed.

“Don’t you dare.” Sirius avoids thinking about the way Dumbledore let him know it was okay to be a Gryffindor Black after he got sorted and cried after Cousin Bella had cursed him in a corridor, laughing evilly.

“Lily died to save him, and so he must be taken to Lily’s sister’s home for the blood wards. He must be protected from the Wizarding World, you must know that,” Dumbledore gave the air of a patient headmaster, calming down a first year and it enraged Sirius.

“Petunia is a lunatic. Ask Severus, even he knows that. As for the blood wards, blood magic is very imprecise. I am his godfather, and by extension the baby’s as well. And, the baby has Lily’s blood as well, so when she comes home it can all be arranged,” Sirius clutched Harry, who squirmed in his tight embrace.

“I admit that I had not thought of that…” Dumbledore stroked his lengthy beard, and Sirius briefly wondered if he used Sleakeazy’s Potion to tame it, before batting away the thought.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to continue thoughtfully, eyes locked to the interesting plain ceiling tiles instead of meeting Sirius’ eyes, “However the baby was born 3 months early, her lungs have only just started developing, her organs aren’t prepared, her eyes are taped shut and she might not survive. In fact, there’s a high chance she won’t-”

“Don’t say that. She’ll survive. She’s strong.” Sirius interjected, while Dumbledore pretended to nod in agreement.

Sirius chose to ignore this and continued, “If she was going to die, she would have already. The children will live with me. I’ll buy a house, you do the magic, I’ll raise them in a Muggle area, but keep them in touch enough with the Wizarding world, and I’ll keep them safe,” Sirius pleaded, knowing he wasn’t being entirely realistic either. Indeed, until Dumbledore had appeared he had thought that he would still be content with baptising her and being able to take a few pictures, anything better than her never having evidence of living at all.

“Raising a child is very difficult Sirius, you must know that,” Dumbledore tried to sound reasonable, but he wanted to just grab Harry and leave. Sirius always was very headstrong. Then again that’s what put him into Gryffindor, and thus into Dumbledore’s hands. Despite this it was rather frustrating to persuade Sirius to be rational and just get on with his life. It wouldn’t be good for Harry to be exposed to such a lifestyle, the promiscuity, crossdressing, criminality, the substances and partying that carried Sirius through much of the 70s.

“Remus can help. Get him back from the werewolves, where he only stays to placate you and not because he wants to by the way, and keep him safe right here. Build a little shack in the garden for him to go to at the full moon. We can raise them together. Please,” Sirius was desperate to keep his promise to Lily and James, just because he hadn’t been able to save them, it didn’t mean he couldn’t try and fix his mistake. He was forever indebted to James, James saved him so many times, in ways Sirius hadn’t even realised until it hit him now, the finality of his death making Sirius wish he had gotten a chance to thank him, his soul brother.

Besides, he was Harry’s godfather, and would have been the baby’s godfather too, hopefully at least. James considered Remus a sort of unofficial godfather too, his lycanthropy preventing him from being able to actually get custody in any case. He had to raise them, tell them about their parents-, their hopes, their dreams, their love. Lily’s auburn hair and the way she furrowed her nose. James’ laughter and obliviousness, the braveness to always stand up for what was right.

“Very well. Have it your way. You’ve made a very compelling argument Master Black. For the time being I will allow you to have custody of Harry and the other child, if Remus Lupin agrees to live with you, and if you agree to visit certain families from the Order, and go to the Death Eater trials, as well as anything else I can think of. If it doesn’t work out, Harry at least will have to go to the Dursleys,” Dumbledore sighed, this was very risky, but he had a feeling Black would kidnap Harry or take extreme action if he didn’t get to keep him. At least this way he could still keep a close eye on him. Dumbledore handed Sirius the Invisibility cloak, no doubt that questions would’ve been asked if the object didn’t appear sometime after the Potters’ untimely deaths.

Sirius fingered the silky cloak. So many memories flickered through his mind. Sneaking into the kitchens, a drunken James being hidden from McGonagall who heard the ruckus, a laughing band of first years playing pranks on Severus, before Severus had joined their crusades the next year. So much pain. But there were more pressing issues. Like the baby girl’s name. He’d ask Remus what he thought, maybe it would help break the awkward tensions and cracks they had ignored in their relationship in the past months of war. They simply couldn’t have a deep relationship talk when they could barely rest on their breaks, instead ignoring the silences and hastily pleasuring each other, showering each other in fervent midnight kisses before going back out to their respective positions for months on end. Sirius hoped desperately there were no hard feelings, that they could go back to the domestic bliss of the mid 70s, but with less partying in queer bars, experimenting with polyamory and casual drug use.

“Thank you Dumbledore, I really do appreciate this opportunity. I truly believe it’s what James would’ve wanted,” Sirius said softly, trying to appease the man he once viewed as some kind of all knowing deity, a father-like figure, miles away from Orion’s shadowy, harsh figure.

“Of course my boy. I understand. You’re to apparate to a safe house with the boy until I give you further instruction, under the assistance of Auror Moody. The safe house is Andromeda Tonks’, your cousin’s address. She is quite used to people popping in, and will no doubt be thrilled to house another one of you,” Dumbledore said, finally turning away from the speckled wall he was examining so intently to make eye contact with Sirius.

His bright blue eyes made Sirius gulp momentarily, the seriousness of the situation still setting in. He felt vaguely scolded, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Yes sir,” Sirius said, clutching Harry’s limp body tight as he apparated to his dear cousin Andy’s abode.

He looked up and down the street, a calm cul de sac, punctuated with elegant wrought iron streetlights, a few of them needing a paint job but generally very well maintained. Many of the other houses, built in a mix of Modernist styles and Edwardian ones, had similar wrought iron gates, and carefully trimmed hedges. Each house looked like it suited the street and the inhabitants strongly. Sirius took it in, listening to the birds chirp as the cold November air bit his nose. He was happy Andromeda was raising her daughter in a place like this, such a far cry from the lonely Black homes of their childhood, a place of austere decor and Victorian era norms.

He raised his fist, ready to rapp at the gorgeous burnt orange door, clearly chosen by Andy.