Sirius Black | Omnia Vincit Amor ✓

Chapter 20: Drama I Really Didn't Need

~ Mathilda POV ~

There he stood. Right in front of me.

He was not as tall as he looked in old photos.

He had dark brown hair and a beard covered his chin.

I couldn't believe it. How long had it been? Fourteen years? Fifteen?

He had left. He had just left that day. That day in July.

He was gone from one day to the other. At least that was what my mother had told me. And now he was here. Hoping for what? That I would walk up to him, greet him, welcome him in like nothing had happened? Tell him that it was alright that he had left?

Anguish washed over me and a million thoughts pierced my mind. Where were you all those years? Why did you never write? Why did you never care?

I stared at him. At his all too familiar nose and chin. My nose and chin. Thank Godrick and Helga and Salazar and Rowena that those were the only two things I had inherited from him. The rest was from my mother, as it should be. He started back at me, gaze locking with mine, but I lowered my eyes to the ground. I could not look him in the eyes. Not yet. It burned. The pain and the anger burned through me, my blood boiling. The fury that slowly grazed my skin, turning it icy-hot, cramped my lungs.

Why did you leave her alone? Why did you leave her alone to raise me? Why did you not care about her? Why are you such a huge assho—?

"I would like to talk to you, Mathilda."

He couldn't be serious. No he couldn't be.

"What are you doing here, Jack?" my mother snapped, appearing behind me on the porch.

"Don't worry I am not trying to move back in here—"

"As if I would let you move back in, ha!" mum said, laughing coldly. He kept a straight face, a muscle in his jaw tensing.

"So, as I was saying I am not trying to move back in here or something... I just had to do some ministry business in England and thought I would like to see my daughter at some point. I want to see her grow up and finally get to know her," he stated, nodding into my direction. Was he serious? He couldn't be.

"After all this years you suddenly decide that you want to see me grow up? Well, pretty late for that, mister," I snarled, flashing him an angry look.

He surprisingly looked even a little bit ashamed maybe also regretful, but I also spotted a glimpse of a sort of shock due to my reaction.

"Give me some time to explain. I would like to explain everything to you."

He slowly lifted his gaze, trying to meet mine. I clenched my jaw, trying to hold back tears and having no idea what to answer. I wanted to hear what he had to say, but at the same time I also did not want to hear it. The voice in my head told me to say no, the voice in my heart told me to give my father a chance.

"I think it is too late for that! She grew up without you. She became an incredible young witch and she really does not need you now. Not after all this years," my mother cut in angrily, but added, "Unless you want to talk with him, that's of course alright!?"

I gave her a smile when she slung her arm around me.

Deliberating and mulling over the options I had I rather reluctantly agreed to talk to him.

I was just too curious about what he had to say and how he was going to explain himself.

My mother gave me a sympathetic smile when my father and I decided to sit down on a bench in front of the house, my heart thrumming against my rib cage.

"Don't worry, Henriette, I won't tell her any lies or whatever you think," he tried to assure my mother. She nodded and walked back into the house, giving us some space. But I knew she was going to watch us from the kitchen window, preparing herself to be able to jump in at any minute.

"Well, go on then!" I said, trying to avoid looking at him directly. My hands turned sweaty while my heart continued to rattle like crazy. I drew in a shsky breath, studying the dusty ground underneath my feet.

"I don't really know where to start. It might sound stupid what I am going to say now but ..... I was simply not ready to have a child. Especially not in another country. I had my work and life in Sweden. After school I started and continued my life there and your mother would not move up there with me. She always was so stubborn, but I believe so was I. We both did not want to leave our places and hence there was nothing else to do for me then leave—"

He released some air through his nose, picking up a culm and fumbling around with it.

His gaze focused on the ground, he continued, "And in addition to that we never really shared the same believes." I looked at him, not knowing what he wanted to say with that so I shrugged my shoulders, blinking my eyes a few times at the bright sunlight falling over his head.

"Your mother was always so open towards bloodtraitors and Mudbloods, she was way too naïv and believed they won't cause us and the wizarding world any harm and that they are just as good as we are."

"Yes, because they are not inferior or in any way harmful. It is disgusting that you think so!" I blurted out, interrupting him.

"Two of my best friends are Muggle-born and they are amazing and smart and kind and extremely talented witches and wizards. There is no need to talk about them like that. And if you want to know exactly, I share my mother's believes and not your stupid blood supremacist believes!"

Now I looked him directly into the eyes, glowering and baring my teeth. How could he say something like that?

"I thought so, which was one of the reasons I came here. I came here to warn you. To tell you to be careful with what kind of people you spend time. Mathilda, this is war. We are living during a war and time will come where you have to chose a side and I really hope you and your mother make the right decision."

I laughed loudly and coldly although that wasn't really planned. I was definitely not going to chose the side of disgusting murderers or Death Eaters if that was what he was asking.

"I think it is better if you leave now. I really don't want to talk to you any longer. If you want to apologise for what you have just said then send an owl but I don't want to talk to you anymore."

He tried to say something back, slowly parting his lips, but I already stormed off, stomping my feet into the muddy ground and heading into the house.

Consequently into the kitchen where my mum was standing, already expecting me with spread arms.

Without saying anything I ran to her and she wrapped her arms around me tightly.

I started sobbing from the bottom of my heart. But I didn't mind. I cried for what felt like hours and mother caressed my shoulders, rubbed soothing circles on my back and mumbled words of apology and sorrow.

The following day she sent him a letter. Or let's say a howler, in which she pretty much destroyed him.

She called him names I had never ever heard my mother use before.

She kept on ranting for minutes and when she was finished she took a deep breath.

Her and I talked a lot about war and blood statuses the following days and what he meant by choosing a side. She assured me that I did not have to be afraid and she would always have my back and that she would be there for me. Always. We did not tell my grandfather about my father's visit and luckily he did not notice either. My grandfather always thought extremely highly of him because they shared the same believes and he thought my father would be a good match for my mother. Their relationship was kind of arranged by their parents who obviously wanted to keep their bloodlines pure. Although growing up without a father was not always nice I still was incredibly happy that my mother stayed in England and never married him or moved up to Sweden with him.