BLACK HOLE SUN, oliver wood

Chapter 4

4.
The New Lord Black

Dear Moony,

I'M A FATHER!!!

It's hard to believe, I know. I can't even believe it. I, Sirius Black, am a father. I have a son. You have to come meet little Elio Black as soon as you can. Marlene insisted he take my last name — it's horrid, isn't it? But that's the only horrible thing about him. I thought babies were supposed to be ugly, but I don't think Elio has an ugly bone in his body. He's inherited my good looks, clearly, even as a baby.

The healers say he's healthy and strong. He seems happy too, though it's hard to tell with babies. He sleeps a lot. He's sleeping as I write this. I think I'd like to be a baby again, if that's all he has to do.

Everyone apparently owes you some money, too. For that bet you all had going behind my back (which I haven't forgiven you for). I've decided I'm going to be his father, properly. I plan on being the best father he'll ever have. The best father I could have had. I love him, Moony. It's crazy. He's just a tiny little thing and I barely know him, but I would die for him. I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for him. I'm getting sappy, I know, but I just didn't think I was even capable of this sort of emotion. I can't believe I'm going to watch this kid grow up.

Anyway, come soon! Meet the little bambino. You're going to be his godfather (Prongs and Wormtail, too — I couldn't choose just one of you) and I'm not going to hear any arguments about it.

Love,
Padfoot.

*

The day of his seventeenth birthday, only four weeks into the term, Elio sits at the Malfoy Manor in front of a mirror, which he hasn't left for most of the morning. Despite planning weeks in advanced, the act of preparing for his entrance into adulthood is an arduous one. It feels as if every fold of his robes, every single curl of his hair, every eyelash has to be in its exact position or else the party will be a disaster. Narcissa hovers over him, placing the finishing touches on his hair. This part, Elio doesn't mind so much; it feels nice having someone mould his hair into whatever creation she desires. The robes, however, weren't such a soothing experience.

The comfortable, cream robes are made uncomfortable by the tight-fitting tunic, pulled tighter by a corset, in the House of Black's colours of red and gold. Whatever they are made of feels like they weigh a tonne, hanging heavily off his body. Armbands travelling up his forearm, rigid and gold, pull the sleeves in at the elbow. A heavy mantle rests on his shoulders, an attached cloak snaking along the floor. There are so many buttons, so many layers. It had felt like it took hours just to button all the clothes up.

But, he thinks he looks nice. The jewels that would normally go to the daughter of the family went to him, so ruby and gold earrings dangle from his ears with a matching brooch and ring. It's all a little too Gryffindor for his taste, but he's not allowed to complain. The pièce de résistance is the mandatory headpiece — Narcissa chose an obnoxious headdress that wraps around his head like a halo and resembles the sun's rays. Elio sighs as the older woman lowers it into his hair, the band settling in behind his ears.