*UNDER CONSTRUCTION*

This was started well before the Black family tree was published, and so the birthdays of the characters are different from canon. In this fic, the birthdays of major characters are as follows:

Bellatrix Black: 24 March 1954
Andromeda Black: 30 August 1955
Narcissa Black: 11 April 1958

Sirius Black: 25 November 1959
Regulus Black: 6 August 1961

All information and plot-line is book-compliant, as well as most additional information (with the exception of birthdays).

At the end of this fic, I will be including a list of music, published works, and artwork that have inspired me in any way.

Most of the characters in here belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not profit from this writing and in no way claim to be the creator of these fabulous characters. I simply fleshed them out and added backstories to them.

Happy reading!

It was late into the night, well past midnight, and the raging storm plunged the whole of Henley-on-Thames into darkness. The streets were deserted; the residents, both human and animal, magical and non-magical alike, had taken shelter in their homes a long time ago. Usually, groups of adolescents could still be seen (more oftentimes heard) walking about the streets, laughing with one another and exchanging gossip, throwing bits of food to the stray cats that had long ago traded in their skills of hunting for those of begging. But no soul would willingly be out in this sort of weather.

The only creature foolish enough to be out at such an hour in such conditions was a lone witch dressed in a dark traveling cloak. She scurried up the little cobblestone path, weaving between the larger puddles to avoid soiling her cloak any more than it already was. She kept her head bowed and pulled the hood of her cloak more firmly over her head. The woman cut left at the fork, muttering under her breath until she finally reached the entrance of the wrought iron fence that had been running alongside her for several muddy yards already. She leaped over a puddle and, breathing heavily, came to a halt before a pair of gargoyles, who scowled down at her.

"Your name and purpose?" one of them asked in a coarse voice.

"Patty Caulderson," she panted. "My purpose is – I'm here for – I'm the midwife's assistant. Please, Mrs. Cordelia Argall should be in already."

The other gargoyle grumbled but, with a great ruffling of stone wings and a flick of its whip-like tail, the gates swung inward, creaking loudly on their hinges. Patty didn't bother waiting for the gates to open all the way. She darted inside the grounds and raced up the driveway to the magnificent house standing proudly at the center. As she took the brass handle in her hand, she took a shuddering breath and then, biting her lip, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She was greeted by a man who, by his regal stance and luxurious attire, could only have been the master of the house. He introduced himself as Cygnus Black, his beady eyes appraising her from head to foot. His lip curled into a contemptuous sneer as his eyes lingered on her frizzy chestnut curls, the thread-bare robes exposed now that she had discarded her traveling cloak, and her battered boots. He ignored her stream of apologies and, with a low sort of grunt, turned on his heel and marched up a flight of stairs to a small, secluded room in the east wing on the second floor. Patty followed in his wake, keeping up a one-sided conversation to fill the silence.

The girl was visibly relieved when a short witch with graying hair and sharp, dark eyes opened the door. She wasted no time in reprimanding the girl ("Where have you been? Do you think children wait for when it's convenient to arrive? None of your excuses; get yourself thoroughly washed and changed") and setting her to work. The woman gave the man a cursory look and a stiff nod. Then she closed the door, muffling the cries of pain and the barking of orders from within, and Cygnus Black was left, once more, to pass the time with his own devices.

He lost no time in returning to his previous engagement of sitting in the small private study at the other end of the hall, lounging on the plush leather seat and sipping on a chilled glass of gin and tonic. Though he was loathe to admit it, the man was anxious in the face of the birth of his third child. There was a lot riding on this birth. If all did not end as he hoped, if it came as another disappointment…well, there would be no other chances.

He was left for a long while in that study. The continuous drumming of raindrops against the windowpane and the lilting moaning of the wind was broken only once by a mighty scream. He had jumped to his feet at once, wondering what the matter could be, thoughts immediately turning to all manners of Dark creatures that liked hiding in dark crevices. But then he heard a door slam and a stern cry of, "Miss Bella! That is quite enough!" and he settled back into his seat comfortably. It was only his eldest throwing another one of her tantrums and was not, in his opinion, a cause for alarm.

The midwife came for him just as the grandfather clock below was chiming the fifth hour, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Cygnus stood immediately and went to meet her at the doorway. Cordelia Argall was easily the best witch in the arts of midwifery in all of Britain, with well over twenty years of practice and four children of her own. She had delivered all of Cygnus's children and had assisted his wife, Druella, throughout each of her four pregnancies. There were few individuals who could command the respect of Cygnus Black by occupation alone, and the midwife was one of those individuals.

"It's a girl," Cordelia declared without preamble.

Cygnus's heart sank.

He tried to hide the disappointment from his face even as his shoulders slumped forward. He ran a hand through his dark hair before stuffing them both into the pockets of his robes, averting the intensity of her gaze.

"She's healthy," she continued sternly. "All her limbs and joints are intact; her lungs are clear, and her breathing's regular. She reacted well to the Magical Aptitude Probe. It's not a guarantee, of course – magical ability in children is so fickle, takes a good couple of years to really be expressed – but it's a good sign she's normal."

Cygnus gave a low grunt by way of a reply. Cordelia studied him closely for a moment before asking, "Will you come see the babe?"

Cygnus shook his head.

"Not tonight. My wife is surely exhausted, and the child will want to sleep. I will come down in the morning to relieve you, Cordelia."

The witch gave him another critical one-over, but did not argue. They bid each other good night, and then she exited the study. He thought he caught the raspy cries of an infant, but it could well have been his imagination. He dragged a hand down his face as he turned his back to the doorway and returned to his chair. The glass of gin and tonic gazed up at him, offering its condolences, and he took it with gratitude.

Confound it all! They had taken all the necessary precautions, had engaged in all manners of strange rituals and practices - everything. He had been so sure, so sure, that this time would be it, that he would secure his lineage with the birth of his third child.

Well, they had been sure with his first child as well, he thought bitterly, and look how that turned out.

A tug on his robes interrupted him from his musings.

"Father?"

The man glanced down at his side to find a small child looking up at him with large eyes, cradling a stuffed hippocampus in her right arm. A toddler still swaddled in a nappy, her speech was not yet fully developed, and as such she slurred around the letters, eliciting a word that sounded closer to "fawder" than the proper pronunciation. She was dressed in a floral nightgown, and her dark curls were all in disarray, forming a frizzy halo around her head. She had surely been awakened by her sister's tantrum and had crawled out of bed to seek him out just moments ago.

"What is it, Andromeda?"

"I wanna see the baby!" she whined, in a way that indicated she had voiced this request several times before, but it had gone unnoticed. The man regarded her for a moment, mulling over the irony that the creature he was so reluctant to face was the sole object of this child's desire. The babe that was surely, at that very moment, suckling on her mother's teat, was his wife's fourth pregnancy, their third child, and his final attempt to sire a son. Though the child beside him knew nothing of this and was therefore untroubled by such a thought, Cygnus could not stop brooding, could not squelch the rising disappointment that he would have no child to inherit the estate and carry on his family name when he himself was gone.

Another series of tugs on his robes brought his attention downward once more. In one swift motion, he grasped his daughter from underneath her arms and swung her up onto his lap. She gasped, clutching her plush toy more tightly, but smiled tentatively at him. Her dark grey eyes, identical to his own, bore into his.

"Why," he murmured, more to himself than the toddler. "Why couldn't it have been a boy? I would have been pleased had it been a boy. I needed a son – I wanted a son. Must the world be so unkind? If you or your sister had been born a son, then this would have been acceptable. But as it stands…"

He shook his head. The little girl, not understanding a word, only that her father was clearly upset about something, reached out a tiny hand to pet his forehead, the tips of her chubby fingers brushing against his hairline.

"It's okay, Father. It's okay."

Cygnus gave her a wry smile, touched by her naivety and innocence, if not by her ignorant reassurances. She leaned forward to place a kiss on his cheek, her lashes fluttering against his skin. Feeling a slight twinge of guilt for causing her worry, Cygnus wrapped his arms a bit more securely around her middle, hugging her close.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go see the baby now?"

He let out a low sigh.

"Your mother will be tired, and the child will be sleeping. As should you be, young lady. You can see her tomorrow."

"But I wanna-"

"No, Andromeda," he said firmly, lifting her away from his chest to place her delicately on the floor. "It is late, and you should be in bed. Where is the nursemaid?"

He called for the maid and handed off the small child without another word. She twisted to glance at her father once, but made no further fuss at being taken back to bed. The study was silent once more.

Cygnus made his way to the window, watching the raindrops slither down the glass. There was nothing for it, he supposed. He would have to make the best of his current situation, ideal or not. All was not lost, he reminded himself. Though he had wanted to be the one to father the first grandson to his parents, there were other chances to continue the name of Black. His sister had been married six years already and was well overdue for bearing children. His brother Alphard, though yet unmarried, could not remain the free-thinking bachelor forever, and would surely settle down with a nice witch once he returned from his travels to Colombia.

With another heavy sigh of resignation, he turned from the window, making his way around the room to extinguish the candles. The room was plunged into darkness. He brandished his wand, holding it above his head to light the way out into the corridor, where he then turned left, towards his master chamber rather than the spare bedroom at the end of the hall. His wife would be lying with the infant, and with the midwife there to tend to her, there really was no need for him to spend the night without the comfort of his own bed.

All may not have been lost, but his chance for an heir was.

Edits: Mar. 2015