If someone had ever said that Sirius Black could take anything in his life seriously, he probably would have laughed himself into their faces. Not for anything bad, but Sirius Orion Black wasn't a man known for his seriousness. Not even in those moments when he had probably rolled through the filth of the woods due to a spell cast by a Death Eater, the raven-haired man could not conjure up a moment of seriousness, which, time to time, became a reason for his closed ones probably deploy early grey hairs.

Despite that, Sirius, who after a few months of crisis and a lot of stress, after of teasing by Remus, James, and Peter, and a few regrets for having left his beloved partner, —the love of his life, the light of his darkest nights, the one he would spell forbidden hex for without blinking—, carrying the fruit of a night of drinking after having escaped death after a successful mission for the Order. The young man, only 19 years old, understood that, after all, a responsibility was a responsibility, and like a good man, he took it. Of course, Sirius was still, by default, Sirius, who went out with his friends to drink for a couple of hours and played with his guitar to be Jimmy Page at 3 am with a floating beer by his side at the livingroom of his home. However, by the time not just one, but two babies were born on a cold October 31st with the first rays of the morning sun, Sirius, for the first time in his short and very crazy life, had felt a true weight of responsibility.

Now, six months later, he was in the babies' room, sitting half-asleep on the rocking chair with a sleeping baby in each arm. Those thick, silky curls were disheveled, his black, sleeveless, David Bowie shirt was lightly stained with milk from the empty bottles now lying on his lap, and there were dark circles under those gray eyes. The nights out that had dwindled during his partner's pregnancy were now simply rare, although he continued to perform strange covers of rock lullabies for the twins, which, rather than putting them to sleep, made them laugh out loud.

His eyes opened again, yawning quietly as the sounds of footsteps echoed silently on the wooden floor, grey irises almost shining at the sight of his partner in front of him, "Hey, I'm workin' here so you can rest... Go back to sleep, these little pumpkins will wake up at my minimum movement," his voice was groggy with sleep, yet, his lips curled on that always enchanting smirk of his, "go on, love... You need to rest."

He may not have had a good childhood, and perhaps his parents were all that a good parent shouldn't be, yet the man tried his best, just to be Father of the Year.