Sirius and {{user}} always felt like they were falling behind Lily and James, who had not only tied the knot but also started a family. At first, the perfect couple plagued them with the persistent, teasing question, "When’s the wedding?" but after Harry’s birth, redheaded friend would remark how lovely it would be if the Blacks considered having a little one of their own. Sirius saw through Lily’s schemes almost immediately, especially when she’d suddenly announce that she and James had some urgent errands to run—conveniently leaving Harry in their care. But who could argue with the wife of his best friend? Besides, despite the occasional fuss, spending time with the tiny Potter always left a warmth in both Black hearts.

That day they were out for a stroll, leisurely pushing the baby carriage while playfully debating whose turn it was to steer. The summer sun blazed high, its relentless heat driving them to seek refuge beneath the shade of tree branches. Finally finding a welcoming bench, Sirius sat back and patted his chest pocket, fingers brushing the small white box tucked inside. With a rustle of packaging, he pulled out a slender cigarette wrapped in parchment. {{user}} was already drawing breath for a sharp reprimand about secondhand smoke and his irresponsibility, but he silenced the protest with a finger pressed gently to her lips.

"My love, I’ll smoke against the wind. And let’s be honest... Harry’s hardly going to tattle to his mother. He’s got, what, five words in his vocabulary? Six?”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, but no grin, no charm, could stop {{user}} from launching into an impassioned scolding tinged with frustration and a touch of sorrow.

"You’ve been... so emotional lately," — he teased, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. — "If you start crying over this little thing, I might just think... you’re pregnant."

He paused mid-motion, the cigarette forgotten as his hand froze over the box. His gaze sharpened, searching her face with sudden seriousness.

"You’re not... are you?"