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Two Years Post Hogwarts >> Adult!Sirius Black X Adult!Reader

Title: Two Years Post Hogwarts

Paring: Adult!Sirius Black X Adult!Reader

Warnings: adult themes (being adults, pregnancy, things like that)

Spoilers: Nope! Set pre-Harry Potter

Sequel: yes, to a previous series in Various Array of One Shots (this is part 4 of 4).

Author's Note: If you're wondering why did you write this, well, wonder no more! It was a request on AO3. 

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Perhaps falling for the son of the Black family wasn't the wisest decision you had made in your lifetime. You'd also made the decision of befriending Lily Potter, and taking Divination, and those choices had turned out quite fine, if not quite terrifically. You now had a job at the Ministry of Magic as a junior representative in the courts, using your high-school earned knowledge toward the good of witch and wizard-kind through the legal system. 

But as prestigious as your job was, it would seem that the ever-looming figure of Mrs. Black, and your boyfriend's father, Mister Black himself were quite imposing, and rich, and very, very opinionated on the blood that ran through your veins, but as of the day Sirius left Hogwarts, he also left their house, and never once turned back.

"Sirius?" you whisper, hearing a rustling through the darkness. The clock beside the bed reads four in the morning by the moonlight, and through the half-drawn curtains you see his side of the bed is empty. It had been two months since the pair of you had really touched, and every so often, your husband would wake early and leave you alone in the sheets. "Black, come back to bed."

But there's no response from the bathroom attached from his side of the room. Slowly, you slip from the sheets, toeing into the slippers beside the bed and creep over the threshold of the bedroom. There's a light down the hall, where the kitchen lays, nestled between the small library and a spare bedroom for all the times James crashes over when he's stone drunk and you're too out of it to care that your husband is blackout on the couch. 

He's seated at the table, wand placed before his head, bowed to the table, hands cradling the back of his neck. You've never seen Sirius like this, never at all be so vulnerable, or even, so hot looking while being morose.

"Cuppa tea?" you whisper, standing on a squeaky floorboard. 

At once, his head rises, eyes wide and bloodshot, cheeks red and nose snotty, but he's still the man you made vows to, who chased you and you chased right back at Hogwarts. He nods, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and goes to stand. "You should be in bed -,"

You shake your head, pushing him back to his place at the table, silently calling your wand to accio from the side of the bed where you had left it. With a flick of your wand, the kettle came to the tap, and began to fill, your hair wound itself into a pretty knot behind your head, and, the chair opposite Sirius was drawn for you to seat yourself.

"Are you alright?" your words feel empty, like they are spoken into a roaring wind to never be heard again. But the way Sirius looks to you, like you are the one holding the moon and sun upon your shoulders, like you are Merlin himself, brings a flutter to your stomach. With a sweep of your wand to place the kettle atop the stove, you add, "I'm here for you. Talk to me."

Sirius takes a deep breath. "I'm - I'm sorry I'm being a terrible husband." He murmurs, and adds, "I'm never home, and not many people want to hire me and I'm shite at housework and communicating, you know? And then I'm awake in the night worrying about my problems and you're worried too?" he sighs. "I'm a mess."

You nod, reaching for his hand to hold. "I know. That's why I love you, Sirius, that's why I married you; you're my mess. And your problems are mine, and we shall work them out together." The kettle whistled behind, and with a quick wandless spell, the red kettle was pouring tea and levitating the cups to your hands. "We can go to a councillor, if you like. Remus has a good muggle one he visits when the other is busy."

Sirius chuckles. He isn't being crude about muggle professionals, or that Remus goes to talk about his feelings to a therapist for money, but that you remembered that he likes a trickle of treacle in his tea. "That sounds like a good idea," he blows the steam from the mug, and taking a sip, breathes in the aroma. 

"I think I may be pregnant," you whisper, and taking a deep sip of your tea, wait for Sirius to react. To yell. Drop his tea. Run from the door like the man he was in school and off to James' house to gossip like they always did. But he did none of these things. He just sat. "Are you alright?"

He nods slowly. "I think so. Are you?"

"Yeah. Just missed two periods, and, er, well, I haven't taken a test, but..." you breathe in, closing your eyes, "LilyispregnantandshesworemetosecrecyandImightbeoverreactingbutitwouldn'tbeoutofcharacterforsomeoneoftheBlackfamily-,"

He squeezes your hand, laying his cup aside. "Wait, did you just say -,"

You nod. "I'm probably overreacting, it's probably really late, and she's four months along already. Please don't tell anyone, they wanted to do it properly." you beg your husband. "I'm the worst friend ever."

Sirius's eyes look like he has seen the stars, the galaxies, all the prettiness in the world, all the good which can heal the hurt he has seen, has caused, has seen being caused because of his blood family the Black's. The way his eyes look to you, slowly gravitating downward to where the nightdress slightly bows out, it is more magic than you've seen in your life as a witch.

"James is going to be a father?" he whispers. "and I - I might be one too?"

You nod. "Keyword might. If I'm not - would you want to...try for a baby?" you wonder aloud, voice wobbling in the cold morning air that sits in the kitchen. "We never really talked about children, and well...I think I'm ready...are you?"

Sirius downs his tea, and without another word, grabs your hand, and his coat from the back of the chair. "Come on, we're going to the muggle dentist, we need a pregnancy test." He announces, grabbing the keys to the motorcycle. 

You can't help but giggle. "It's a chemist, Si, and there's one in Reading that stays open all night, I think." You pause, stopping to put on real shoes. "What if I'm not pregnant, though?" you wonder.

He grins. "Well, I'll just have to apparate you back home to bed, now won't I?"