Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Feathers and Fireballs

Epilogue

Twelve years ago, Harry Potter was turned into a Veela by accidentally exposing himself to a set of potions in the Department of Mysteries while he tried to rescue his godfather from a threat that turned out to be a trap. Shortly after that, his life had gone even further to hell than it already had been.

Twelve years ago, Harry had never imagined that he would be having the conversation he currently was.

"Okay, and know that I respect your opinion, but you're wearing pants when you go out and play with Scorpius," Harry said, exasperated.

The ever-stubborn Sirius stared back up at him, his green eyes defiant. Harry had never imagined that he'd have a child of his own, not when his three mates had turned out to be male (and Merlin, he didn't have any words for how grateful he was to have never found a fourth, and to have Christelle tell him that his 'well' seemed to have finally closed), but when Regulus had raised the issue of finding a surrogate, Harry had considered it. He'd always thought he'd be a good father…

And then Severus had pointed out that he need never have intimate contact with the woman, something that had lingered in the back of Harry's mind as a bad idea, and Harry had almost immediately been on board. After all, Regulus wouldn't have raised the issue if he also didn't want a child running around, and Severus would have protested rather than helping with the idea.

So he found a suitable woman, or rather, Voldemort did, and now Harry had a son. Who was adorable, and sweet, and terribly stubborn.

"But it's too hot for pants!" Sirius protested, his pout absolutely adorable on his five-year-old baby face. "I don't want to wear them!"

"Well, then I guess you don't want to go and play with Scorpius at his birthday party," Harry said, as unsympathetically as he could.

"Yes I do!" Sirius protested. "Daddy, please?"

"You will wear pants, or we won't go," Harry said, as reasonably as he could. "Scorpius can't have a half-dressed friend at his party; the public would lose their minds and wonder what I was doing with you."

The press was unavoidable, as it turned out, once Draco became Minister for Magic. Harry had managed to avoid stepping into the public eye for the most part, but he'd needed to do it in the end, if only briefly, to help Regulus 'return to life,' claim the Black family fortune, and then announce that he was married to him.

The resulting flurry of press was enough that Harry regretted almost every decision he'd ever made in his life, but after it was over, he was left mostly alone as Regulus took control of both the Black family seats and the Potter ones. And in the end, it had been enough to get Draco elected as Minister for Magic, if only just barely.

Things had pulled together after that, and as Harry watched in astonishment, Voldemort assumed control of the government without any further bloodshed. Yes, Draco was at the helm, and occasionally did things that Voldemort didn't agree with, but for the most part, the Dark Lord had successfully won the war.

It was mindblowing.

"But pants are stupid!" Sirius shouted, and flung a pillow at Harry. This had the benefit of drawing Harry's attention away from the past, and back to the child in front of him, who was now red-faced from his temper tantrum.

Harry picked the pillow up off the ground and sighed. "Then I guess we're not going," he said. He backed away from Sirius, who proceeded to wail in childish fury.

He went out into the living room and found Bellatrix staring at the door, an expression of mingled disgust and horror on her face. Her stomach was distended, and she looked like she was ready to give birth at any minute. "Is this what I have to look forward to?" she asked, the horror on her face comical.

Harry laughed, leaning against the wall. It had taken him the longest time to come to terms with her, given that she'd been the reason that Sirius the first had died in the first place, but he'd managed. It had been impossible not to manage when her husband had died and, not a week later, Voldemort had married her.

"Don't you laugh at me," the witch snarled, her fingers inching towards her wand. She'd never curse Harry, but that didn't stop her from making the threat.

"All children are different," Harry responded, and then fell silent when a sudden silence fell from Sirius' room. "Some of them are mischievous, and some of them aren't. But if your child is anything like you and Voldemort, I can't imagine how it would be anything else."

Bellatrix let out a groan and flopped back on her chair just as Sirius emerged from his bedroom, wearing the requested pants. "Well, at least you have him mildly well trained," she muttered.

Harry laughed again and scooped Sirius up, cradling him easily on his hip. They weren't sure yet what Harry's Veela state would mean for the child, but they were ready to deal with it if it did turn out to be inheritable. "He's not a dog," he said to Bellatrix.

Sirius hugged him, cuddling close. "I'm sorry I yelled," he said. "And I'm sorry I threw the pillow. Salazar said it was mean."

"It was mean," Harry agreed. "Thank you for apologizing."

"He said you shouldn't let me go to the party since I was mean," Sirius continued. "It's okay if I can't go, Daddy. I'm sorry."

And didn't it just figure that the one adult in the entire Manor who wasn't an absolute pushover was his darling basilisk? He supposed that Salazar had enough practice with the clutches he and Nagini had raised together. "I don't know about that," Harry said, and pressed a kiss to his son's forehead. "I think we can still go as soon as your other fathers get home."

As strange as it was, with Regulus working as a full member of the Wizengamot and Severus taking on the occasional potions apprentice, with Voldemort and Bellatrix married with a child of their own on the way, and with Harry himself occasionally taking a patient or two as a fully-certified Healer, this was his life, and he was happy with it.

It was something he'd never imagined twelve years ago, not just because it was so strange, but because he simply didn't have the framework in place, emotionally, to begin to dream of a life like his.

But now that he had it, he wouldn't have it any other way.