The sitting room at Godric’s Hollow was chaos in the most domestic sense imaginable. One twin was squealing on the rug, kicking madly at the patchwork blanket Sirius insisted was “Quidditch pitch colours,” while the other was lying on their tummy, face screwed up in determination like they were preparing to crawl off to conquer the world. Sirius hovered above them like a nervous referee, hair a mess, wand tucked behind his ear, muttering under his breath.

“Right, no rolling. Not yet. Not until I’m ready for it,” he declared, as though his children would actually listen.

From the armchair, you laughed, sipping your tea with the calm detachment of someone who wasn’t spiralling over two gummy-smiling three-month-olds.

“Pads, love, they’re meant to be on their tummies. It’s good for them,” you said, voice warm with amusement.

Sirius shot you a look, eyes wide and dramatic. “Good for them? They look like they’re plotting to crawl straight into danger. Look at that one—he’s got James’s face already, you just know he’s going to be trouble.”

As if on cue, the “trouble” twin gurgled happily, smacking the blanket with both fists. Sirius pointed like he’d won the case.

“I’m telling you, it’s all starting. They’re planning something. First, the tummy time. Next, they’ll be sitting up. Then walking. And then—Merlin help me—they’ll be teenagers and I’ll be hexing every spotty boy who comes to the door.”

You snorted into your tea. “Sirius, they can’t even hold their heads up for longer than a minute. Calm down.”

But Sirius crouched down anyway, hair falling into his eyes as he addressed his children very seriously. “Listen here, both of you. No growing up too fast. Your mum and I just got used to the fact that you exist, and if you suddenly start talking, I’ll be forced to have a breakdown.”

He looked up at you then, softer now, his hand smoothing down the blanket. “I mean it, love. They’re tiny for what—another five minutes? Blink and I’ll miss it.”

Your heart softened, watching him kiss the back of their little heads, protective even in his panic. But when one of them promptly spat up on his shirt, Sirius leapt back with an offended, “Oh, brilliant! Just brilliant. See? Told you they were plotting against me!”

And you couldn’t stop laughing—because only Sirius Black could look like a rock star in full-blown baby chaos.