Orion Black had no time to spare. He rushed through the streets as fast as his legs were willing to take him. Of course, he could have Apparated, but he wasn't in the right state of mind—he couldn't risk splinching himself. Not now of all times.
He brushed past Muggles that muttered at him to watch where he was going, but he didn't slow down. He was nearly there. Nearly home. Nearly where he had to be, where she had told him to be.
He looked over his shoulder, checking his surroundings.
No-one.
No-one following him, no-one to look out for.
He went up the front steps to the house he had made his own not too long ago. He rushed inside, closing the door quickly behind him, taking a few breaths as he steadied himself against the wall.
That's when he heard it.
Normally, crying children were a bad sign. It meant something was horribly wrong, and the child had to be given something; food, a new nappy, a bath, or perhaps just a loving embrace.
But today he welcomed it. He welcomed the cries just as he had welcomed them twenty-one months ago.
He rushed towards the crying, running up the stairs two steps at a time. He threw himself at the door and burst into the nursery.
"Daddy!"
He was greeted by his son – his firstborn, his dearest, his beloved – who came waggling his way.
"Daddy here!" The little boy yelled excitedly, causing the crying to only grow louder.
Orion swept his little Sirius of the floor and held him tightly. "That's right," he murmured, "I'm back. Your father's here now."
"He's been asking for you."
He looked past his son's head at his wife, his best friend, his cousin; she sat in a big lazy chair, holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. "Walburga, dearest-"
"A son," she said, and he rushed closer to get a better look at the bundle, the crying bundle.
His son.
Sirius was playing with strands of his long hair, tugging at them and squealing in excitement but he ignored it. He put him down and crouched beside Walburga, peering into the crying bundle of blankets in her arms. "Our son," he murmured, "our second son—we've done it. Oh, we've done it!"
Walburga smiled at him, and repeated his words. "We've done it."
Another tug on his hair, and he looked to his side.
"Whassit?"
"That's your baby brother," he said, and he could barely believe his words. A brother. "Your mother just gave birth to your tiny baby brother... You're the big boy now."
"Big boy! Big boy!"
He ran a hand through his son's hair, and looked back at the baby, whose cries had quieted down.
"You are beautiful," he said, using his free hand to touch the newborn's cheek.
"Welcome to the world, Regulus Arcturus Black."