just your type of trouble || george weasley.

[ PROLOGUE ] :: A Goodbye and A Promise

A Week before the Halloween of 1981 ::

"Keep your head down, little troublemaker. I'm sure he'll be here any moment now."

The air was thick that evening. Other than winter's preparation for its show of work on the rooftops and treetops a month following, the silence that rang through the Wizarding World packed the atmosphere tense – whispers of secrets, the drawing of plans occurring behind closed windows, closed doors. Most of the wizarding world whispered to keep themselves safe while the rest murmured through vicious grins to obliterate this safety.

Sirius Black, on the other hand, whispered to his son who was sitting strapped on a gray baby carrier. It was only after he'd uttered it did he realize how pointless it was. He was talking to a one-nearly-two year old boy after all. One who, a week prior, had learned to say "yoh pretty da'" while pointing up at Sirius, much to accommodate his ego and bring forth his partner's displeasure.

Parker Black was loved. That much is certain. He was loved deeply by both of his fathers, by his mother who had given her life so he could meet the world, by his Uncle James who'd spoil him rotten with sweets he should not be giving to a year old child, Aunt Lily who has wasted boxes after boxes of polaroids capturing the moments little Parker had making littler Harry cry, his Uncle Peter who... well, he would carry Parker around at times when Remus would complain about his back aching. He'd been the joy of the simple household the couple had acquired for themselves.

"Oh, all right, all right. Settle it down." Although not weeping, the child made an obvious effort for Sirius to give him his attention by rocking his baby carrier whose handle the man was firmly holding in his hand. Sirius knelt down to place the carrier on the ground and unbuckled the child, standing then with a groan after having lifted him up. "Don't give me red hair, you little brat– Merlin, where's your father when you need him?"

"Sirius.."

As if on cue, a tremulous voice echoed softly throughout the empty hallway they were standing in. It was immediate; Sirius' head snapped up to meet the figure of his significant other. The strength, the wit, the light-heartedness he felt while speaking to his son faded. Every ounce of his vulnerability was bared by brown eyes upon landing on gray.

It was only when he parted his lips and let out a shivering breath did he realize that his chest was puffed out, holding his breath. Every nerve tugged at him, the heartstrings pulled on his chest, his gut kicked forward, his legs almost bucked. Every part of him was begging to run to Remus, to embrace him, to feel his warmth, the safety of his arms.

"You actually came."

All he managed to do was hold his son tighter.

"Of course I did." There was sorrow in Remus' tone, perhaps disappointment, offense at Sirius' doubt. "Look at the poor boy. You'll freeze him dead!" This statement revived whatever was left of Sirius' cheek and he watched intently as Remus approached them at once, his cloak went against the wind at every step until he slid it off of his frame, followed by taking off his sweater.

"I usually love it when you do this–"

The child's hair had turned green.

"Shut your mouth, Sirius."

"I'd like to see you make me–"

Greener. And now, a death stare from Remus.

"All right," Sirius muttered. "No need to get aggressive."

The beige wool sweater Remus took off revealed yet another sweater underneath. He had his coat hanging over his shoulder, making it a priority to wrap his discarded sweater around their son before then putting his coat back on.