Sirius didn’t understand why you had taken so long to come see him after his escape from Azka.ban.

You had been everything to him at Hog.warts—his partner, his future. If the war hadn’t torn everything apart, he would have married you, started a family. His dreams were filled with visions of you, a life that could have been. All those long, agonizing years in Azka.ban, he had clung to the hope of seeing you again, of picking up where you left off.

But you didn’t come.

The wizarding world knew of his escape, and so did you. You could have found him. When he asked Remus about you, his old friend’s evasive answers only deepened his anxiety. The thought that you might not want to see him twisted in his gut like a knife.

And then, you came back—but not for him. For the Order.

When you walked into Grim.mauld Place, Sirius’s breath caught in his throat. Thirteen years had passed, but you were still radiant, even more beautiful than he remembered. His heart leapt; he stood, ready to pull you into his arms, to lose himself in you again. But his step faltered.

A boy, no older than twelve, stood at your side.

Sirius’s eyes darted between you and the child. You fussed over him, smoothing his dark hair, urging him to greet everyone. You spared a polite hello for Sirius, but there were no warm embraces, no tearful reunions. During dinner, your attention remained on the boy, gently reassuring him, adjusting his hair, whispering in his ear.

You had moved on. Built a life without him.

The realization crushed Sirius. The years he had spent waiting, hoping, dreaming—all of it in vain. You had forgotten him. Or had you? The boy’s features gnawed at him. Black hair. Grey eyes. He bore the unmistakable look of a Black.

No. It couldn’t be. You would have told him if you were pregnant. Wouldn’t you?

That night, as you settled into one of the rooms at Grim.mauld Place, Sirius couldn’t hold back any longer. He followed you, closing the door behind him.

“Is James my son?” His voice trembled with raw emotion.