╔ ══════ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══════╗ Tuesday, October 27th, 1981. Four days before Halloween. ╚ ══════ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ══════╝
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───── THE FIRE PLACE CRACKLED, bringing a sense of familiarity to the small cottage that should have brought Leda comfort. The flames used to do just that, back when she was in school. Late at night, when she couldn't sleep, Leda would find herself wandering out of bed, drawn to the stillness one couldn't find often in the ever bustling Gryffindor common room. Many memories—the good, the bad, and the embarrassing—had been formed around a fire place flame.
Now, instead of the flames bringing her that sense of comfort she desperately desired as she stared deeply into them, the noise set her nerves on edge. With a particularly loud crackle as a log collapsed inwards, Leda winced, clutching the bundle in her arms for support.
It didn't help that her fiancé wouldn't stop pacing.
"Sirius," she snapped, and then shut her eyes briefly, pursing her lips together. She tried again, softer, more mindful that he was feeling no better than she was. "Sirius, please. You're working yourself up."
The pacing stopped, for a moment, but she regretted her choice of words the moment they had left her. When Leda opened her eyes, meeting Sirius', he had an odd look on his face.
"I'm not working myself up," he argued. "I'm just... I'm worried."
"You're always worried," Leda asked with a shake of her head. "But your pacing isn't going to help anyone."
As if to prove her point, Leda shifted in her seat so he had a better look at the bundle in her arms. Carefully, she brought a hand up to brush back a fold of the soft blanket. Two large, brown eyes blinked up at Sirius from under the fabric. Their daughter gave Sirius a babble and a smile. Still, Sirius wilted at the sight of her—she should have been asleep twenty minutes ago.
His pacing had started twenty minutes ago.
Sirius ran a hand down his face, visibly exhausted as he crossed the room, collapsing onto the loveseat beside his family. "I'm sorry Lacie," he whispered, running a thumb across the bridge of his daughter's nose and watching as her lashes fluttered—her eyes closing before popping open again. "I didn't mean t'keep you up, sweetheart."
Lacerta Black wiggled against her mother's grip, attempting to kick her blanket off and crawl into her father's arms. Leda wrestled against her, giving a frustrated huff.
"You should be, it takes me forever to get her to sleep." Leda grumbled, without any real venom.
In her peripheral vision, Leda watched as Sirius melted further into the couch, bowing his head. Anxiously, he started bouncing his knee, and Leda clasped a hand down on his thigh to stop him. She brushed her thumb across the material of his jeans in soothing half-circles.
