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Chapter Text

Sirius Black finds himself in the owlery, knuckles stroking the chest of a fluffy, tawny owl as he stares absently at the setting sun. The Forbidden Forest glitters in arrays orange and red, tall trees swaying in a low breeze like a sweltering fire. He’s been sitting here since class ended, a letter from his grandfather tucked into the pocket of his robes, unopened, as unexpected as the familiar ebony eagle owl that swooped into the Great Hall to deliver it; the way it’s large, amber eyes locked on Sirius, assessing, appraising before it nimbly departed, the letter set neatly beside his plate.

Despite no one knowing who owned such a creature, except Regulus, the entire hall had fallen silent, holding their collective breaths against the idea of another irate howler from his mother. The letter remained unmoved in the silence, no smoke, no vibrant, shrill shriek. His friends had watched, bemused expressions flickering beneath cold indifference, when he picked it up and promptly left, heart in his throat, bile threatening to choke him.

The Incident, Prank, whatever you’d call it and the stifling anger that spurned in its passing swelled to a point Sirius could no longer stand. Apologies weren’t enough, begging wasn’t enough, and while he narrowly avoided expulsion, his penance had only just started. Hogwarts in turn had shifted in the bleak response of the Marauders fracturing apart and the majority of Sirius’ friends went with it.

Sirius can see it clearly; the explosive anger that had shifted James’ entire face scarlet, Peter’s disquieted disappointment, Remus’ bitter, empty stare as he watched Sirius flounder through tears and words until he had simply turned away, hands trembling at his sides.

“I don’t care, Sirius.” Remus had said, voice hard, broken. “We’re done. I don’t want your apologies. The only thing I want from you is to be gone.”

Summer was just on the horizon, barely 3 months. Sirius Black was, for the first time, alone, and in his desperation, his bitter self loathing, he sent a letter to his grandmother. Only after he sent his owl off did the regret set in, the weakness - A Black never shows an exposed nerve. But that’s all he’s even been, fighting with his mother, fighting with his brother, fighting himself. Sirius felt the weight of his missing friends like a severed limb that oozed and pulsed and bled into every pore until he wanted to drive it out with his own teeth.

Sirius brings his grandfather’s letter out, smoothing his fingers along the thick texture. He didn’t expect a response, didn’t even expect to even be entertained seeing as his grandmother had been gone for almost a year now. Sirius missed her desperately and he had never felt this alone in his entire life. Even when most of his family turned up their nose at the disgrace of his sorting, his grandmother still wrote to him, and now she was gone. And now, his grandfather had written him in her place.

Grandson,

My surprise at receiving a letter for Melania has been the talk of our elves. It is not often that I am taken aback, though if any of my grandchildren has ever encouraged such an uncouth display, it would be you, Sirius Orion.

I read your letter, grandson. I expect your presence on the last weekend of this month. This recent display of events demands my attention. I’ve informed your Head of House. Ophelia will fetch you from the gates.

I look forward to having you at the manor.

Arcturus Black III
Lord of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black

“Oh. You’ve made a friend.”

Sirius startles, earning a low hoot from the owl perched on his shoulder. He swivels around to see the new transfer student, watching him with an amused expression. There’s a letter between his fingers, delicately rolled in smooth parchment with a string of gold. Sirius had only seen him a handful of times despite him being James’ distant cousin, all wild dark hair and vivid green eyes that seemed to burn with power. A recent transfer, which perplexed most of the school and shortly after, Slytherin, who shuffled their pecking order so sharply upon his arrival that it gave the remaining houses whiplash.

A thick scar bisected his left eyebrow, splitting from his forehead down his sharp cheekbone in a haphazard zig zag. He’s very much a Potter but not at all; tall, built like a beater but there’s a certain level of confidence that doesn’t seem to come off as arrogant. Cousins, too distantly related, yet there are specks of James in his face, but his jaw is sharper, eyes a bit more narrow. A Peverell, “I prefer Mort, more palatable”. Sirius still doesn’t know his given name.

The owl hoots again, louder this time, as it flutters its wings. Its head swivels to one side then the other and Mort rolls his eyes, fond exasperation coloring his features. The action is unusual on his face, as it is on most Slytherins, but the slow smile that follows after is just as perplexing. Sirius tucks his grandfather’s letter haphazardly into his pants. Mort doesn’t comment.

“Your owl bullied me into this. Enjoys eating my hair.” Sirius quips and the owl flexes its talons and nips his ear.

Mort lifts one dark eyebrow. “Boo does indeed have an oral fixation. When he was a baby, he would burrow in my hair.”

The owl, Boo, hoots again, softer, in agreement. Mort lifts his hand and Boo makes a disquieting noise before flapping over to him, its small head swiveling repeatedly as it settles directly on Mort’s outstretched palm. He ties the letter then rubs its feathered chest.

“To Gringotts, Boo.” Mort looks at Sirius, his gaze penetrating in hard as it takes him in. “I came by your common room but no one had seen you.”

“I’m sure James told you why.” Sirius shifts his weight. He doesn’t necessarily want to hash out this conversation, especially not in the owlery. Certainly not at all but when has fate ever favored cowards.

Mort inclines his head. “He mentioned it. We don’t talk as much as you think. Being in different houses and all.” Mort regards one of the owls sleeping nearby. “I asked Severus. He remained very tight lipped and I’m unsure if he’s more displeased about what you did or the fact that James Potter had to save him.”

Sirius folds his arms across his chest. “Well, there you have it.”

Mort smiles at him. “You wear your penance poorly. Are you unhappy you’ve been caught and ostracized or are you unhappy because of what you’ve done?”

Sirius bristles, teeth bared. “Fuck off.”

“So defensive, Black.” Mort says, eyes sparkling. “It’s very in character for you. Your brother is vaguely similar in that way so it must be an upbringing.” Mort tilts his head, slowly dragging his gaze along Sirius’ form, searching and a speck of something crosses his face too fast for Sirius to catch. “Loyalty to a chosen few. Ruthless and cruel to anyone who threatens that and the tentative peace you’ve made with yourself about who you are. A wild animal stuck in a trap.”

Sirius swallows hard, heart thumping wildly in his chest as he struggles to keep his expression blank. Mort’s eyes glitter, amused to what he sees bleeding out. There is no judgment, just acceptance and Sirius finds himself floundering in the face of it. A charged silence follows, Sirius struggling to bottle his temper as it wildly builds in his throat and Mort’s quiet, pleased expression staring back at him.

“Don’t be so afraid to be known, Sirius Black.” Mort hums, taking a step back. “Kee is attempting to make mille-feuille. I’ve volunteered our services.”

Sirius blinks, feeling a bit haphazard. “I.. I didn’t think…”

“What? That we wouldn’t continue to raid the kitchen with the excitement of first years because you fucked up? No.” Mort smirks. “It’s easier for me to make this decision as I’m far removed from the situation. Plus I want to hear what your grandfather said.”

At Sirius’ startled look, Mort huffs. “I met Lord Black earlier this year before I decided to transfer here. He is an interesting character. A bit more… palatable, unlike the other Blacks. I recognized his owl.”

“Why did you speak to him?” Sirius finds himself asking.

Mort moves towards the stairs, beckoning Sirius along so he trails after, mind spinning with possibilities, questions. He wasn’t expecting this, didn’t even know his grandfather entertained anyone beyond family. They descend the stairs in short, fluid motions. A few first years clutter around the base, their cheeks rosy with excitement as they chatter, robes slightly disheveled.

“I wanted to know if Hogwarts would be worth my time.” Mort tells Sirius as they walk. “My father had spoken distantly about it. I considered just not coming at all as I’m already ahead of the curriculum. He’s a bit of a task master and I was homeschooled for so long. I wasn’t sure if it was worth it.”

“Was it?” Sirius asks, looking at Mort.

Mort is already looking back. “Yes.”

As they’re walking past the library, Sirius catches someone calling Mort’s name. Sirius slows to a stop as Lily Evans comes bouncing out, her smile bright and beaming until she notices Sirius. He can tell it takes effort to keep her expression open, eyes tightening in the corners, lips twitching. Mort notices, his face twitching minutely, but he doesn’t comment beyond a slow smile.

“Evans.” Mort says pleasantly. “If you’re asking for another review on your essay, I may just set it on fire and send it spiraling off the Astronomy tower.”

Lily’s cheeks pinken. “Actually I submitted it this morning. I’m sure I’ll get an O.”

“If you don’t, we can just set Professor Slughorn on fire instead.” Mort says seriously.

Sirius snorts. It’s undignified, loud, and no matter of Black upbringing would stop it. Lily also laughs, a scandalized expression crossing her face. She moves to respond but the words come up short as Remus pokes his head out the door, mouth open as if to call her. His eyes immediately meet Sirius’, flashing bright amber in anger, jaw clicking shut with an audible noise. Sirius swallows thickly, taking a half step back.

Mort smoothly moves to stand between them, “We’ll chat later. I’m starving.”

“Yes, of course. Are we still meeting tomorrow evening?” Lily says, eyes flickering to Remus, who hasn’t left.

“As long as Marlene doesn’t attempt to turn my hair a vibrant yellow again, yes.” Mort hums, earning a soft laugh.

“Of course.” Lily grabs Remus’ arm and steers him back inside.

Sirius exhales slowly, struggling to loosen the knot in his shoulders and he resists the urge to shake his skin out. He pinches the bridge of his nose, annoyed, at this situation, at himself. It’s a wonder that he’s still passing his classes when he’s been avoiding the library since it’s one of Remus’ safe places. Not that he ever studied in the library to begin with. The principle stands. Mort patiently waits for him to collect himself, pointedly looking away. Sirius’ relief is palpable but he refuses to apologize for it.

“I hope Kee used strawberries.” Sirius murmurs, flicking out his fingers.

Mort nudges him. “Maybe she’ll surprise you.”

Kee had, in fact, made mille-feuille with strawberries, her large ears flapping in excitement upon seeing them. She was an older house elf, seemed older than Kreacher at least, but she fluttered about with a buzzing youthful energy that came with a charming manner of speech. Her previous master had been very good to her but had died suddenly.

The mille-feuille is incredible, decadent and sweet in a way that allows the layers to blend seamlessly. Sirius is immediately enamored and tells her so.

“This is fucking amazing, Kee.” Sirius tells her.

Mort snorts beside him, fork tucked between his lips. Kee beams proudly, her tiny pillowcase billowing as she spins in a happy circle.

“Kee hoped Sirius Black would enjoy it!” Kee chirps happily. “The other elves tell me that I be pickin’ favorites and spoilin’. I tell them to mind their business.”

Sirius barks out a laugh, moved. His chest tightens at her words, a fuzzy warmth simmering in his stomach. He’s never been a favorite before. It’s a disquieting feeling.

“Careful Kee. I’ll get jealous.” Mort tells her.

Kee looks immensely offended. “Hadrian Peverell better not start with this nonsense again.”

“Hadrian?” Sirius asks.

Mort flushes. “Kee, just Hadrian is fine. Or Mort.”

“Hadrian Mort asks too much of poor Kee.” Kee mutters, eying their empty dishes with a sniff. “Kee be making dinner. Don’t leave. I’ll find you.”

“Was that a threat?” Sirius shifts on the floor, awed. Their dishes pop away.

“Sounds like it.” Mort mutters, appearing exasperated.

Sirius leans back on his arms, head tilted to the side. “Does this mean I can call you Hadrian?”

Mort sends him a withering look. “If you’d prefer.”

“Do you not like your name?” Sirius rolls his head to look at him. “You don’t go by your actual last name either.”

Mort bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flickering to the ceiling before settling on Sirius. The lighting casts a low glow across his skin, softening his features. He looks ethereal, those vibrant green eyes seeming to shimmer and glisten. Mort stares at him for a long moment, searching, always searching and Sirius never knows what for.

“It’s… New for me.” Mort admits softly. “With my… father, I was always just an extension of him. Now I’m here with next year being my last year and suddenly I have an identity beyond him. It’s just. New.”

Sirius can understand that. Always a Black, never just Sirius until he was sorted in Gryffindor, until he became friends with the ones who fell out of the Black circle, until he sent an enemy to be potentially murdered by one of those friends. Sirius could convince himself he wasn’t a Black until he was.

“Is your dad an asshole?” Sirius asks.

Mort shakes his head, expression softening. “No. He allowed me to have this opportunity. He’s given me everything.”

“Then is it so bad to claim that part of yourself as your own?”

Mort looks at him. “Is that what you do?”

“Fair enough.” Sirius concedes, forcing a grin. “I’m calling you Hadrian. Mort is depressing. A little too young to be referring to death all the time.”

Hadrian laughs. It’s a delightful noise. “I’m a year older than you. I suppose I’ll call you Sirius.”

“I suppose you will.” Sirius quips, smile a bit less forced.

Kee pops back up, baring an array of dishes with wide eyes and a wider smile. There’s quiche, roasted vegetables, steak-frites, and a curious selection of tiny sandwiches that have been cut into hearts. Another house elf pops in, excitedly babbling about tomorrow’s menu, and Kee pops away with a wave as they hold hands.

“Tell me about Lord Black’s letter.” Hadrian takes a small bite of one of the sandwiches. His eyes widen comically, charmed, and ends up taking the last one, which was on Sirius’ plate.

Sirius sends him a look. “Cheeky bastard. The letter I sent… wasn’t for him. It was for my grandmère but she’s been gone for a while. I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

“You could’ve talked to me.”

Sirius shrugs. “I didn’t think you’d want to. James is your cousin. We’re not even in the same house. You barely know me.”

“I barely know James.” Hadrian tells him. “Will you go?”

Sirius stares down at his plate, half eaten pieces of food scattered around. He watches a lazy stream of sauce slip underneath a piece of asparagus. His family relationships always felt so complicated, especially with his mother. He could never tell how she felt towards him. When they fought, it was brutal, nasty and usually ended with him at the mercy of her wand but he’d see that dark pride in her face when he’d refuse to yield. Sirius didn’t know his grandfather too well, despite being the heir and it was only a matter of time before he got blasted out the family.

But.

Sirius had sent a letter to his grandmother, his grandmother who died, his grandmother whose funeral he was forbidden to go to by his mother. And his grandfather answered.

“I think I should.” Sirius admits quietly.

“If anything, think of the entertainment value.” Hadrian muses thoughtfully and Sirius laughs.

Chapter Text

Sirius expected plenty of things in the following days, exceptional grades despite his shoddy study habits, stony silence from the Marauders, a tinkling laugh from first years when he convinces them to play fetch when he’s Padfoot, wallowing in response to his general existence and predicament, but he’s not expecting to stare into the familiar, eerie eyes of his grandfather’s eagle owl during lunch. The owl, if possible, seems more shrewd than the last time, holding a delicately wrapped box of sweets and pastries but no note. Sirius notices Hadrian’s amused gaze from the Slytherin table, and his brother’s narrowed one.

The owl glares at him and Sirius sighs, taking the package. He hesitates, before offering a piece of mackerel. The owl stares at the offending meat, then at Sirius, then back. It ruffles indignantly before taking it with a harsh glower. Sirius doesn’t understand how he’s found himself in this situation and perhaps this is his grandfather’s way of making him sweat. 

“Please stop looking at me like that.” Sirius mutters, pushing his plate towards the owl. It becomes immensely offended and Sirius is at a complete loss - the damn thing still doesn’t leave, and really this is incredibly dreadful because now students are starting to stare . Sirius begrudgingly feeds the rest of his mackerel to his grandfather’s owl. The smug look it sends his way before it leaves is disconcerting. 

“Did you just get bullied by an owl?” Marlene’s voice rings out. She plops down in the seat directly in front of him, eying his package with interest before making a plate of food. Sirius stares at her.

“I did?” It comes out as a question and Marlene sends him a speaking look.

“Listen, Black, I know things are… complicated right now but I’m here for you.” Marlene sniffs. “You’ll be joining me tonight. I’ll kick those boys out myself.”

“For?” Sirius manages, thrown. 

“You look like shit.” Marlene says bluntly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair up this much and, judging by your roots, greasy. You can sleep when you’re dead but I will not have you scurrying about like Snape.”

While thoroughly dressed down, Sirius finds himself pleased, a bit. It’s undeserving. Sirius can’t even remember the last time he saw his own common room, often hiding out on the seventh floor much like a ghost or the owlery with Boo, much to Hadrian’s amusement. He only ever sees The Marauders in class but takes to sitting in the very back or very front, usually beside a Hufflepuff or Dorcas, who is tolerant of his general existence.

“Ok.” Sirius says, unable to find words, unable to find the strength to argue.

Marlene nods. “Perfect. Now who is sending you sugar daddy gifts?”

Sirius squawks, earning several looks. “What? No. Who? My grandfather.”

“I keep forgetting you’re rich.” Marlene mutters, cutting into a piece of pie. “That box would cost my entire year’s allowance.”

Sirius looks at the box, its luxurious wrapping and gold foil. “Feels like a bribe. Probably making up for lost time. Hmm, or maybe buying my love.”

“Ah,” Marlene nods sagely. “So a sugar daddy thing.”

“Please stop.” Sirius whimpers, sounding a bit like a dog.

Marlene teases him relentlessly throughout the rest of their time together and once James meanders into the Great Hall, Sirius excuses himself, box tucked neatly under his arm. James catches his eye briefly, bright smile faltering slightly and Sirius looks away. He doesn’t notice Peter or Remus as he hurries out, their eyes lingering on him as darts down the hall. 

Sirius manages to sneak into his dorm before class and is a bit thrown when he notices his bed isn’t there anymore. All that remains is a large, poorly transfigured clown with a pig nose and his trunk. Everything else is the same. James’ cluttered desk, Peter’s neatly made bed, Remus’ bedside tiled high with books. A surge of biting hurt swells inside him, tears stinging his eyes. He tucks the package into his trunk, bottom lip wedged between his teeth, and struggles against the wounded noise in his throat. His clothes and books are missing. The bottom is littered with empty chocolate frog wrappers. 

Sirius slams the trunk closed and seals it with a complex locking charm. He stares at it for a long moment, aching and burning and fuck, if he hasn’t managed to fuck up his own life. Sirius doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at his trunk. He doesn’t know how to feel and maybe he doesn’t feel anything at all. 

Bitter acceptance presses against his hurt like cool balm. He knew James would take Remus’ side and it’s not about the missing items or his bed. It’s the decision that he would never be allowed here again. Sirius, ultimately, shrinks his trunk, tucks it into his pocket, and sends a blasting hex to the clown pig. When he turns to leave, Peter is standing in the doorway, blinking owlishly. Sirius inwardly curses.

“I was just leaving.” Sirius says but Peter doesn’t move, staring at the splintered remains of the pig clown.

Peter drags his gaze to Sirius. “It wasn’t permanent…”

Wasn’t it, Sirius thinks. He manages a shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Pads-”

“It’s fine. I have class. If you don’t mind.” Sirius says. He feels sick, fragile, like even a slight breeze will send him spiraling. They haven’t spoken to him in so long and any attempts on his end were met with firm, disturbing silence. Sirius thinks distantly that he should be filled with joy at the chance to speak to one of them even if it’s Peter but Sirius thinks of his transfigured bed and feels nothing.

Peter startles, realizing he’s blocking the door, and shifts to the side. He doesn’t say anything as Sirius leaves. Sirius ignores the curious gazes he receives as he leaves the common room. He doesn’t go to class, tucking himself into the first broom cupboard he can find. A sloppy silencing charm later and he’s sinking to his knees, palms pressed hard into his eyes. He can’t stop the tears, nor the brittle noise that escapes his lips. 

Sirius curls into the floor, amongst the gritty tile and dirt and hates, hates, hates. He doesn’t emerge until much later, appearing more put together than he feels, eyes red rimmed and furious. The fact that he doesn’t get detention is truly baffling but Professor Flitwick must see something in his face that sparks pity. He doesn’t deserve it, takes an empty seat in the back of class and tunes out the glances cast his way. His next class is much the same and it isn’t until DADA that a spark of feeling drags it’s way out. 

The professor has combined the class with a couple of 6th years. They’re scattered about, chatting quietly with his classmates. Sirius immediately notices Hadrian standing near the center, idly assessing each person. Hadrian inclines his head towards him when he notices him. The desks and chairs have been removed, leaving the classroom open and gaping. James stands on one end, gesturing animatedly with Lily and Remus. Sirius saddles up to Hadrian, ignoring the heated glare sent his way by Mulciber and Snape. There’s a boy situated to Hadrian’s right with dark, curly hair and chilling blue eyes. His face is kind, if a bit sunken. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Hazza.” Sirius chirps with forced cheer. He nods to the stranger.

“Henry McMilson.” The boy offers a hand and Sirius shakes it. 

“Sirius Black. Are you a Puff?”

“I am!” McMilson lights up and he turns sharply to Hadrian with a mean grin. “Ah, so this is the Black you spend so much time with.”

Hadrian sighs deeply.

“Oh?” Sirius presses, smiling. “Hazza talks about me?”

“Please refrain from your nicknames today.” Hadrian mutters, gesturing to the empty space beside him, and McMilson laughs delightedly. “You’re making a scene.”

Sirius slides in smoothly, eyebrows raised. “Am I embarrassing you, Haz? Is that what our relationship is? A secret? Is that why you’ve snuck into my class like a thief in the night?”

McMilson shakes his head. “Now, Mort, remember what we discussed about cultivating relationships. It’s no good to keep them a secret.”

“I hate you both.”  Hadrian drawls. “We’re dueling today, according to Professor Ghile. Which is why we,” He nods to McMilson and himself. “Are here.”

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll try not to wipe the floor with you if we’re selected.” McMilson says pleasantly.

Sirius barks out a laugh. “I’m sure you know of my cousin, Bellatrix. If I can beat her ass, I can beat yours, McMilson.”

McMilson’s eyes gleam excitedly. “Bold words for a fifth year.”

“Suppose we’ll see.” Sirius grins, sharp and violent.

“That would be an interesting match.” Hadrian tilts his head, smirking. “I’ll take the winner.”

“Confident?” Sirius quips.

“Oh yes.” Hadrian hums, taking a long look at Sirius. “I’ll be sure to help you up once I break that pretty of yours.”

Before Sirius can respond, Professor Ghile sweeps into the room with a beguiling smile. Her robes are quickly cast aside, revealing an intricate lace shirt tucked into a tight corset, long dark hair spilling down over her shoulders. She flicks her wand fluidly and the lights above them brighten considerably.

“I’m sure many of you have noticed a few older students amongst your cohort.” Ghile says, eyes sweeping over them. “Please welcome Hadrian Peverell, Melissa Montgomery, Yessia Alonzo, and Henry McMilson. These are my top students for their respective cohorts who have volunteered their free period to be here. It’s nearly the end of the school year so I felt friendly duels may add excitement to a potentially stressful time. If I see any use of dark spells, I’ll have you on your butts so hard your skeleton will invert.”

A few murmurs echo through the room but Ghile remains unbothered. She leans against her desk, crossing one long leg over the other. Ghile twirls a lock of hair between her fingers, tilting her head from side to side. McMilson is vibrating in excitement beside Hadrian.

“First, Severus Snape and Lily Evans.”

Sirius resists the urge to laugh, lips twitching. On the other side, James looks worryingly between the two, his brows furrowed. Sirius can understand. Lily and Snape’s relationship has been a point of contention for years and with each passing day it seems to come more and more to a head, much like Sirius’ own with his fellow Marauders. It’s interesting to watch, Snape a bit more offensive seeing as he spends most of time hexing unsuspecting and suspecting students in the halls but Lily Evans is a swell of fiery, vibrant magic that turns the air sweet and blistering.

It’s a close match but Lily doesn’t manage to dodge a jelly leg hex and the disarming spell that follows quickly. She’s smiling after, graceful as ever, long red hair tied into a high ponytail that swishes as she moves to collect her wand. Mulciber sneers at her as she passes and Snape levels Sirius with a haughty glare that he makes a show of ignoring. 

“What is his deal?” McMilson whispers, nodding to Mulciber.

“He’s a bitch.” Sirius replies, earning a snort.

“Brilliant. What an incredible display!” Ghile claps happily. “Hmm. Hadrian Peverell and Sirius Black.”

“Damn it.” McMilson swears softly.

Sirius manages to school his surprise. “If you break my face, I’ll be quite cross.”

Hadrian winks at him, shrugging off his robe. Sirius follows his lead, striding into the center as Hadrian saunters confidently ahead. He shifts into stance, rolling his shoulders, green eyes lit up with delight and raw hunger. Their gazes meet, a thrum of magic sparking between them, tangible and heady and the lights above flicker. Ghile grins widely, steely eyes glinting with excitement. Sirius twirls his wand, veins singing with promise.

“It would be a shame.” Hadrian muses.

“I’m sure. What else would you look at?” 

Sirius sends the first hex, a tickling charm, because if he’s learned anything from scrapping with Bellatrix, it’s that stamina is everything. Hadrian immediately deflects it, shooting his own spell back with rapid fire and it dissolves from there. He puts Sirius to work, shuffling between defensive and offensive as the air around them turns brittle and sparking ozone. Sirius finds himself grinning, a bit sharp, a bit mad, and Hadrian matches his energy with a biting smile. 

Sirius narrowly avoids a bat-bogey hex when he spits out a stunning spell and a non-verbal disarming spell in rapid succession just as Hadrian hits him square in the chest. His stomach hooks sharply and pulls and he’s dragged upward by his ankles. There’s a sharp clatter in the distance. Bile swirls dangerously in his gut, arms dangling uselessly above his head as his wand slips out of his hand with a thunk. Silence descends, different looks of shock rippling across the faces of those he can see. Hadrian chuckles softly.

“Sirius disarmed me first.”

“Non verbally too.” Ghile blinks, mouth a small ‘o’ shape. Her hands are clapped tight in her lap. “It’s not often someone disarms you.”

Hadrian hums in agreement. “McMilson was the last.”

McMilson makes a hooting noise from the sidelines.

“It’s my pretty face.” Sirius admits, laughing when Hadrian glares at him. “I think I’m gonna hurl.” 

“One sec.” Hadrian calls out. He summons his wand with a lazy flick of his hand and lets Sirius down. It isn’t a graceful descent by any means but he does remain upright and doesn’t vomit. A win is a win, Sirius thinks dazedly. He meanders over to where he was standing, taking his robes when Hadrian hands them over. Sirius shrugs back into his robes, noticing the silence has remained. Ghile has her eyes narrowed at him, assessing, fingers steepled together and nods. 

“Ah, I know that look.” McMilson murmurs. Hadrian sighs.

“See me after class, Mr. Black.” Ghile says, her voice thoughtful. “Johan Mulciber and Mary MacDonald.”

Sirius inclines his head, confused. He doesn’t notice James gaping at him, nor Mulciber’s bristling fury. He settles against the wall, hands tucked into the pockets of his robes as he watches the two move into the center. Hadrian settles beside him, arms crossed over his chest and there’s a faint simmer of magic rolling off him. He inhales deeply, shudders and smothers it. Sirius nudges him.

“You went easy on me.” Sirius whispers.

The corner of Hadrian’s lips quirk. “Shall we have a rematch?”

“Oh,” Sirius raises his eyebrows. “So you’re admitting it.”

“You held your own.” Hadrian tells him, watching Mary and Mulciber. “It was… exciting. It’s been a while.”

Sirius doesn’t know what he means but doesn’t push, turning his gaze back to the duel stretched out before him. Mulciber is a right bastard but Mary is nothing if not tenacious. He notices James and Remus whispering fiercely to each other. Remus’ eyes flicker to him, Sirius quickly looks away just as Mulciber is slammed into the wall. It startles everyone, including Mary. When Mulciber recovers, his eyes are dark with promise. Sirius bristles, straightening, and Hadrian grasps his arm.

“I think we should do duels more often. This is exciting.” Ghile claps her hands. “James Potter and Yessia Alonzo.”

Sirius barely pays attention to anything else for the rest of class, watching as Mulciber’s gaze lingers too long on Mary, his mouth twisted with poorly concealed anger. When Mulciber storms out once the bell dings, Sirius notices Mary’s shoulders slump with relief. 

“Seriously. What is his deal?” McMilson asks, tugging his rucksack over his shoulder.

“He’s a vapid racist is what he is.” Sirius huffs. “Mary’s muggleborn.”

McMilson’s eyes narrow. “I’ll keep an eye out for her.”

“Appreciate it. Mary can handle herself but, as I mentioned, he’s a bitch.”

McMilson laughs, sending Hadrian a look before turning back to Sirius with a cocky smile. “I hope to see you around, Black. After all, you owe me a duel.”

Sirius inclines his head. “Absolutely.”

McMilson sends him a jaunty wave as he departs, followed closely behind by Remus. James lingers by the doorway, his eyes flitting from Lily to Mary. He doesn’t look at Sirius at all. 

“You should talk to her.” Hadrian suggests, nodding to Mary.

“You’re right.” Sirius sighs. “It’s just…”

“I understand.” Hadrian says, nudging him. “But it needs to be done.”

Sirius knows he’s right so he goes, wandering over to where Mary is slowly packing up her things with Lily hovering nearby. Her expression is worried.

“Hey.” Sirius greets quietly. “I know we’re not… things are complicated but if I need to knock out his front teeth again. Let me know.”

Mary, visibly startled, laughs. “I will.” Her expression softens. “Thank you, Sirius.”

Sirius waves her off. “I know you’re capable but Mulciber’s a bitch. What’s two more teeth in the broad scheme of things.”

“The Tooth Fairy will blame inflation.”

“The whomst?” Sirius asks, awed. “Do… Is this a creature?”

Lily saddles up to them, smothering a laugh behind her hand. “It’s a muggle thing, Black. When children lose their teeth, we stick the teeth under their pillow and they get money in exchange. The Tooth Fairy isn’t real. It’s just what parents call it.”

“Fuck, that’s terrifying.” Sirius says, rubbing his face. “I can’t imagine a Niffler trading teeth for money.”

Lily winces. “When you word it that way, yes. Terrifying. Please don’t tell me any of your additional theories. I’m still not over your interpretation of the Easter Bunny.”

“It just seems barbaric.” Sirius says, offended. 

“What is?” Hadrian asks, moving over to them.

“They take the eggs of the innocent and expect children to find them.” Sirius tells him. “Whose eggs are they taking? Is it a punishment for their crimes?”

Lily and Mary dissolve into laughter as Hadrian gives him a perplexed look. He frowns deeply, mouth pulled into a thin line. Hadrian moves to speak, stops, then looks helplessly at Lily, who seems to spiral more into laughter. 

“The Easter Bunny.” Mary supplies, tittering softly. She tosses her brown hair over one shoulder.

“The…” Hadrian fixes Sirius with a hard stare, unimpressed. “If I could take house points, I would.”

Sirius gapes. “That’s-”

“For wild interpretations of make-believe creatures and general dumbassery.” Hadrian deadpans.

And in moments like this, Sirius can forget, can trick himself into thinking that things aren’t strained. Lily braces herself against Mary, freckles hidden under the deep flush of her face as she wheezes loudly. She gasps wetly, tears tugging at the corners of her eyes and pulls herself together with a withering glance at Hadrian before she drags Mary away. James is still waiting by the door, watching the exchange with a strange expression. He spares Sirius a glance before following them out. Sirius watches him go, swallowing down emotion until it's buried under his ribs. He turns to Hadrian, arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed.

“Listen here, baby death, I may not know muggle things but I’m allowed to perceive things how I see them.”

“You’re an idiot.” Hadrian states. “Maybe I shouldn’t have strung you up. Clearly your marbles haven’t… re-aligned.”

“You’re a fucking dick is what you are.” Sirius scowls. He frowns. “My what?”

Hadrian pinches the bridge of his nose. “Professor Ghile. You. Go. I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Touchy.” Sirius mutters, dragging himself to Professor Ghile’s desk, where she watched their proceedings with increasing delight. She smiles at him, long nails clicking on her desk.

“Mr. Black, you put on quite a show today. I can’t say it’s very often I’m surprised but you’ve managed to do so.” Ghile runs a finger along her desk. “May I ask how you learned to disarm nonverbally?”

“My cousin is wand-happy.” Sirius informs her. “Saves me the trouble when she starts to get… too handsy.”

Ghile’s eyes light up in understanding. “I am considering creating a Dueling Club with Professor Flitwick next year. Would you be interested in joining? I’ve asked Miss McDonald as well.”

Sirius blinks. “Professor Flitwick?”

“Oh, yes. It’s one of his passions. He’s a dueling champion.”

“He is?” Today is a day of discoveries it seems. “I’d love to join.”

Ghile claps. “Perfect. Now help me bully Hadrian into it. He’s exceptionally gifted but he needs incentive.”

“Hmmm,” Sirius shifts his weight. “I wonder what would be good incentive. I’ll ask.”

Ghile smiles but her eyes glint with mischief. “I’m sure you’ll work it out, Mr. Black. Have a good day!”

Hadrian is leaning against the wall when he emerges, Marlene chatting animatedly with him as she sits on the stone ledge of the window. Sirius meanders up to them with increased interest. 

“What are you two talking about?” Sirius asks, loosening his tie.

Marlene eyes him. “You.”

Sirius grimaces, bracing himself. “Well. I’ve had a day already so let’s hear it.”

“McKinnon has enlisted my assistance to pierce both of your ears.” Hadrian says and Marlene grins widely. “She’s also volunteered my dorm room.”

Sirius whirls on him. “You have your own dorm?”

“I have delicate Wizengamot documents that need to be kept secret. Otherwise they may lead to a revolt or some other outlandish thing.” Hadrian shrugs dismissively. “So, yes.”

“Delicate… documents? Like.. law reviews or something?” Sirius asks.

Hadrian nods. “Or something. I trust McKinnon to keep you out of trouble.”

“So no anarchy?” Sirius pouts dramatically.

“I know! I know!” Marlene sighs, draping her arm across her face. “But I promised! Next time, we’ll enlist Cassie and take over the world.”

With a shared laugh, the three head towards the dungeons, passing portraits that are beginning to ready themselves for bed. The castle was quieter at this hour, the usual bustle of students reduced to a faint echo in the distance as they congregate to the Great Hall.

Their footsteps tap softly against the stone floors as they make their way through the winding halls, Sirius and Marlene walking side by side while Hadrian leads the way. The dim light cast long shadows, creating an intimate and almost conspiratorial atmosphere.

“So, where exactly did you learn to pierce ears?” Marlene asks, glancing curiously at Hadrian.

Hadrian shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. “My father taught me.”

“Was it to help you from being a complete swot?” Sirius teases, bumping Hadrian’s shoulder lightly.

“Yes actually. My study habits remind him of a childhood friend. He thought I needed a hobby.” Hadrian chuckles. “Besides, I like helping out my friends.”

“Love how he went immediately to body modification.” Sirius grins, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature. “Well, consider me eternally grateful. I’ve always wanted to look a bit more roguish.”

“You’ve got the roguish part down,” Marlene says with a smirk. “I mean, who pierces their nipples before their ears. Outlandish.”

They reach the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons, the stone wall parting to reveal the passageway tucked off to the side as Hadrian mutters the password. The dungeons were cooler, the air carrying a slight chill that contrasted with the warmth they had just left behind. The atmosphere was different here, quieter, more secluded, as if the rest of the castle were miles away.

“Welcome to my lair,” Hadrian says with a playful grin as they step into his dorm room. The room was surprisingly cozy, with shelves of books and potions ingredients lining the walls, a neatly made bed in the corner, and candles casting a soft, flickering light.

“Make yourselves at home,” Hadrian says, waving them towards the bed and chairs.

Sirius sits on the edge of Hadrian's bed, feeling inexplicably nervous by the gravity of the moment. Marlene settles in the armchair nearby, her feet tucked under her, watching Hadrian with bright, curious eyes. Hadrian is organizing a small array of piercing tools on his nightstand, his movements calm and methodical.

Hadrian turns to Marlene first, his vivid green eyes meeting hers. "You first, McKinnon. Ready to break Meadows’ brain when she sees you?" he asks with a grin.

Marlene chuckles, a playful spark in her gaze. "Always. Let's do this."

Hadrian cleans Marlene's earlobe with a touch of antiseptic potion, the cool liquid making her shiver slightly. "This might sting a bit," he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring.

Marlene nods, bracing herself. Hadrian positions the enchanted needle carefully, and with a quick, precise motion, he pierces her ear. Marlene winces but remains still, trusting Hadrian completely. He quickly secures a delicate silver hoop in place, brushing a thumb gently over the spot. Hadrian repeats the steps for the other ear.

"How does it look?" Marlene asked, touching her new piercing with a tentative finger.

Sirius leans in, inspecting it with a critical eye before giving her a wicked smile. "You look fantastic, Marls. Very fierce."

Marlene beams. "Your turn, Black," she says, her voice teasing.

Sirius takes a deep breath, trying to steady the flutter of nerves in his stomach as he switches places with Marlene. Hadrian's green eyes hold his, a silent promise and reassurance, and Sirius sits down, exposing his ear to Hadrian's gentle touch.

"Ready?" Hadrian asks, echoing his earlier words.

Sirius nods, swallowing hard. "Ready."

Hadrian repeats the process, cleaning Sirius's earlobe with the antiseptic potion. The touch was cool and soothing, but anticipation makes Sirius's skin prickle. Hadrian positions the needle, and with swift, practiced movement, pierces Sirius's ear. Sirius barely registers the sting, heart hammering in his chest. He can smell Hadrian’s cologne, the faint whiff of shampoo and parchment. Sirius swallows.

"There," Hadrian says softly, securing the final silver hoop in Sirius's ear. He lingers for a moment, his fingers brushing Sirius's skin.

“You didn’t even flinch, cheeky bastard.” Marlene leans in, inspecting the piercings with a critical eye. "Looks good, Sirius. Very distinguished."

Sirius touches the hoop, feeling its weight and the slight throb of his ear. He glances at Hadrian, a smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, Hadrian. Maman is going to lose her shit."

Hadrian smirks, green eyes sparkling with mirth. "Happy to help. McKinnon appears well versed in ways to piss off parents."

“Of course, I am. It’s fucking me.” Marlene laughs, the sound bright and infectious. "You should call me Marlene.”

Hadrian looks at her, taken aback but pleased. “Hadrian.”

“Or Haz.” Sirius chirps happily.

Hadrian knocks him off the armchair with a flick of his wrist.

Chapter Text

Professor McGonagall escorts Sirius to the front gates, arms clasped firmly in front of her. Her expression is surly, blue eyes staring hard into Sirius’ as he stands in front of her. Even with approval, her opposition to this outing is clear as is her severe disappointment. Sirius doesn’t think he’s found any favor in her gaze since The Incident occurred. 

“I expect your return by 7pm tonight. Your family may perhaps have more insight on how you can improve your behavior.” McGonagall says sternly. Her dismissal is devastating.

Sirius only manages a nod, hands fisted at his sides, and, wildly, he wants to cry. Ophelia, his grandfather’s house elf, is waiting at the gate, her eyes warming when he manages a smile. She doesn’t spare a glance at McGonagall, holding out a tiny hand as he wanders closer. Sirius doesn’t look back and takes it. They pop away in a whirl of magic.

Ophelia manages to keep him upright when they land but he manages to straighten almost immediately, smoothing a hand along the front of his jumper. It’s one of Hadrian’s since Sirius’ clothes have yet to reappear anywhere but he doesn’t plan on giving it back. Ophelia makes a cooing noise, soothing and fond.

“See? I told Young Master he will get the hang of it.”

Sirius chuckles. “No one ever bets against you, Phi.”

“Ophelia knows.” Ophelia croons, patting his hand. “Come. Lord Black is waiting in the parlor.”

Sirius trails after her, eyes roaming over the expansive landing stretched out before them. Black Manor is as extravagant as Sirius remembers from childhood but the air feels warmer. The rich tones of grays and whites marking the walls have been stripped down and replaced with gold and silver. An expansive arch settles overhead in muted a creme color, paintings adorning the wall, some with faces, some without. His grandmother’s pond still rests in the entry hall, water clear and crisp. A series of koi drift happily throughout basking in the sun rays that drift down through an open strip of ceiling. 

“Master Black wanted to keep a part of Mistress here.” Ophelia tells him as they walk past. “Happy fish.”

Sirius’ heart twists sharply with grief. Happy fish. He spares another glance and follows Ophelia down the hall. A few portraits cast eager looks at him, murmuring quietly amongst themselves as he passes. Rich mahogany lines the floor, barely covered under dark furs and intricate carpets. The parlor is less foreboding than Sirius remembers. A massive fireplace remains, all dark brick and blazing, bay windows cradling expensive leather couches and chairs that are smartly decorated. Ophelia pops away with a fond smile.

His grandfather sits in the center, his polished marble swordstick perched neatly against the arm chair he sits in. He’s aged finely, the wrinkles adorning his face coloring him roguish and handsome even if his dark hair is streaked white. Sirius bows low, feeling just as small as he did at 8.

“Pépé.” Sirius greets, straightening.

“Melania’s poor habits have survived her, I see.” His grandfather’s sterling eyes glitter with amusement despite the displeased line his mouth makes. 

“Only the memorable ones.” Sirius says, waiting.

His grandfather’s expression shifts to pleased. “Sit.”

Sirius obeys with a slight incline of his head. He takes his seat in the middle, as he had as a child; his grandmother on his right, closest to his grandfather, with Regulus on his left. His grandfather notices but doesn’t comment, the ghost of a smile on his face. It disappears just as quickly.

“Sirius,” His grandfather starts, gracefully folding one leg over the other. “Tell me what ails you. I have reached out to your father but he appears to be unaware of any recent developments beyond Regulus’ correspondence. We shall start there.”

“I thought you read the letter.” Sirius replies, resisting the urge to fidget.

His grandfather hums deeply. “I want to hear it from you.”

“I…” Sirius clears his throat delicately. “I made a mistake. A severe one that almost led to the death of a classmate at the hand of a friend of mine. The student affected and his Head of House wanted me expelled. The Headmaster intervened. I assumed he had informed my parents. I see now this isn’t the case since I’ve yet to hear from maman.”

His grandfather listens, hands folded neatly in his lap. He nods minutely and two glasses of whisky appear on the long table situated between them. Sirius takes one after his grandfather does. He doesn’t drink it, running his fingers along the rim in absent motions. 

Sirius sniffs, then continues. “My close friends, the ones directly affected by this incident, have… iced me out completely. My friend, the aggressor, is taking it particularly hard. We haven’t spoken in some time and the rest of our friends have mostly followed his lead. It is a well crafted punishment but not as severe as I deserve.” Sirius stares into murky, amber liquid. “I haven’t been sleeping well since my dorm is… inaccessible.”

“No grandson of mine will sleep on the floor like a common peasant. Give this to your head of house. This should’ve been acknowledged sooner.” His grandfather snaps his fingers and a letter lands in Sirius’ lap. The house seal is embedded in a thick swirl of wax. “I’m certain your absence was noticed but I am not surprised it hasn’t been addressed. McGonagall has always been… dismissive.”

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers.

“It is no matter of concern.” His grandfather responds, a sliver of emotion catching in his voice. Must be age, Sirius thinks, amused. “I imagine your choice in attire isn’t your own.”

It certainly isn't but had limited clothing options and Marlene and Hadrian together were quite a force he didn't want to deny. There’s a pause, a breath, and Sirius quietly admits, “Uhm. No, it’s not. My friend let me borrow it since… things have happened.”

“Is this friend a part of the situation as well?”

“No. I mean, he’s James Potter’s cousin but they aren’t close.” Sirius shakes his head. “It’s Hadrian Peverell. A Slytherin. He’s a year above me.”

“Ah, the young Heir.” His grandfather takes a sip of his drink, eyes alight with satisfaction. “I had hoped.”

Sirius grips his glass. “You had?”

“Indeed. Peverell is young but intuitive. I have not had the pleasure of meeting his father but we have exchanged correspondence. I am pleased with what I’ve seen so far.” A piercing gaze meets his own. “The youth of your generation have the capacity to be exceptionally bold. Most find it unnecessary and foolish. I find it refreshing. What use is having a head if you have no spine. A Black bows to no one . We ride the curtails of no one. Our allegiance is to our own. Our house. Our family . Yes, Hadrian Peverell has made quite the impression. When he takes his seat, things will become quite interesting. The House of Death is a welcome ally to the House of Black.”

The House of Death. Sirius twists his glass between his palms, uneasy. “I’m surprised you vouched for Hogwarts for him to go to.”

“As am I. His roots, however, are here.” His grandfather flicks his fingers. “‘A shit show’, Melania would say. She despised your headmaster. As does your father but your mother refused to see reason.”

Sirius gasps softly. “Pépé.”

His grandfather sends him a look. “When your mémé resorted to such unrefined behavior, you must simply let it run its course lest you receive a scalding. This is what endeared you to her. You’re outspoken. Brash. A Black has no need for friends but you are young. Charismatic.” He pauses, swirling his glass delicately. “No one deserves a Black’s loyalty. Yet, cultivation is key. You excel there where your brother struggles. However, he has his own strengths. I imagine the true reasoning behind… your incident is that temper of yours, which Regulus lacks.”

Sirius flushes warmly.

“Ah, yes. I remember your first fit. You burned your father’s eyebrows off and striked your mother bald.” His grandfather smirks. “An impressive feat for a 2 year old. Yes, Melania was indeed charmed. You’ll learn to offset this with more clever ways of dealing. I will assist. I imagine the Lord Heir will also. Do you regret what you did?”

Sirius bites his lip. “I regret not handling it myself.”

His grandfather’s expression turns thoughtful and he nods curtly.

“Is… Are…” Sirius hesitates.

“Speak clearly.”

“Are you disappointed?” Sirius asks. In him, in his choice of an heir, in every mistake he’s made to get to where he is now. Sirius tells himself he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need anyone. Foolhardy and bigoted like his mother. Obsessive like his cousin. His grandfather leans forward, assessing, expression void and eerily empty. 

“I’ve known you since you were in the womb, Sirius Orion Black. You have shown yourself to me every day after your birth.” His grandfather nods with finality. Magic thrums around them. “Remember what I said, boy. A Black bows to no one . Yes, Sirius Orion, you will do .”

Sirius swallows thickly, forcing himself to meet his grandfather’s gaze. His magic sings with praise, warmth spreading through him like a sickly film and the family magic swells in response. A satisfied smile curls across his grandfather’s lips, the first one Sirius has ever seen, shining with approval.

“Tell me of these… pranks, étoile. Melania, even at her age, had fits of delirious glee whenever your letters would arrive. ‘Incredible use of magic despite seeming rudimentary’, she would say.”

Sirius finally takes a long gulp of drink, savors the burn, and sets in to tell a ludicrous amount of tales featuring the Marauders. Ophelia pops in throughout the hours, supplying them with rich food and deserts until it’s time for Sirius to head back to Hogwarts.

McGonagall is waiting at the gate, her lips pursing a bit. Her shoulders slump a bit, as if relieved, and nods curtly to Sirius, dismissing Ophelia entirely. Sirius wishes the little house elf a goodbye.

“Master Black tells Ophelia that Young Master needs clothes.” She heaves a series of neatly wrapped, shrunken packages into his hands. “He was displeased by the choices but Ophelia set him straight. Young Master is still young. He must enjoy youth.”

“Thank you so much, Phi.” Sirius’ voice trembles with gratitude and he tucks them in his pocket. Ophelia pops off with a wink.

“How was your visit, Mr. Black?” McGonagall queries once he’s made his way to her.

“Enlightening.” Sirius answers quietly. He hands her his grandfather’s letter.

McGonagall skims the contents, her eyebrows raising. She straightens severely then slumps with a withered sigh. Sirius idly wonders what his grandfather would have written that has her so rattled. He watches her delicately tuck the letter away.

“Do you have anything you wish to take from your previous room?” Her voice is soft.

“No, ma’am.” His trunk was currently in Hadrian’s possession.

“Very well. I will inform your roommates of the change this evening.” McGonagall nods sharply. “You are not expected to be present given the circumstances. In the meantime, I will escort you to the Headmaster’s office so we may discuss your options.”

Sirius is a bit confused but he nods.

“Very good.” 

McGonagall leads him to the castle gates. A few students linger around, dressed casually from a day of spending time in Hogsmeade and their excited chatter follows them inside. Sirius walks alongside McGonagall through the corridors. The stone walls echoed with the soft tread of their footsteps as they ascended staircases and passed by the occasional portrait, where curious eyes followed their progress. 

McGonagall's robes swish lightly with each step, her expression unreadable but her pace steady. Sirius, on the other hand, moves with a mix of restlessness and resignation, his shoulders tense, his gaze flickering to the windows that offer glimpses of the emptying grounds outside. The familiar path to the headmaster's office seems longer than ever, each turn a reminder of the weight of his recent choices and their consequences. McGonagall's stern demeanor softens imperceptibly as they approach the gargoyle guarding the entrance, its stony face impassive to their arrival.

“Lemon Sherbert.” McGonagall says.

The gargoyle rolls out the way, revealing a set of stairs. Sirius gulps, remembering the last time he was here. He trails behind his professor, taking in the different trinkets and pictures they pass. Headmaster Dumbledore sits at his desk, eyes twinkling and warm as he rises smoothly to his feet. His phoenix, Fawkes, trills softly, regarding Sirius with interest. 

“Professor McGonagall, Sirius. How may I assist you today?”

McGonagall procures the letter and passes it over to him. She gestures for Sirius to take a seat, which he does. Sirius watches emotions flit across the headmaster’s face, eyes roving rapidly. Dumbledore sits down heavily, the letter still in his hands, half-moon glasses perched at the tip of his nose. He sets it on his desk, appearing much older than when they arrived.

“It is a reasonable request from Lord Black.” McGonagall states evenly when Dumbledore makes no move to speak. The portraits murmur quietly above them at her words, Phineas Black’s shrewd eye narrows at Sirius, glimmering with unconcealed curiosity. 

“The situation is most unfortunate. Is there no recourse?” Dumbledore inquires. “He will become isolated.”

“He already is isolated.” McGonagall answers severely. “While I understand the boys’ reasons, perhaps this should’ve been the response to begin with. Time apart may be needed but consideration for safety of those involved is also needed. We can regroup at the end of summer.”

Dumbledore stares at her for a long moment then nods. “Very well. Tell me, Sirius. Do you prefer gumballs or lemon drops?”

“Gumdrops?” Sirius asks, thrown.

Dumbledore nods again, eyes twinkling. “Very well. The password is Yellow Daisies. Professor McGonagall will escort you.”

The dismissal is clear and Sirius dutifully follows McGonagall to the Gryffindor Tower. He feels apprehensive and nervous but most of his classmates should be in the Great Hall for dinner. The common room is blissfully empty and Sirius sighs in relief. McGonagall shoots him a small, reassuring smile. She gestures for him to follow. There’s an empty nook in the far right hand corner of the room, one they’ve tried to fill because of it’s odd spacing but nothing would ever stick, instead would magically reappear wherever it originally was. 

McGonagall steps into it, aims her wand at Sirius and then presses it into the brick and says, “Yellow daisies.”

The bricks shimmer then give way to a simple door. Sirius gapes.

“That’s why nothing stays over here.”

“An astute observation, Mr. Black.” McGonagall hums, humored. “This will be your new room for the remainder of the year. The door will only reveal itself to you. I suggest getting settled after dinner as there is only 30 minutes left.”

“Ok. Thank you, Minnie.” Sirius winces. “Professor. Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Black. I apologize for the additional grief caused.” McGonagall tilts her head. “While the circumstances seem to solely rest blame on your shoulders, as authorities we should’ve had more precautions in place and so that blame also lies with us. Let me know if you need any further assistance.”

Her words weigh heavy on him after she leaves. Sirius pushes the door open, revealing a cozy yet compact room, dressed warm in tones of red and gold. There’s a bed, draped in scarlet curtains embroidered with gold lions, that occupies a corner, offering a plush, tempting retreat, and a small desk that sits nestled near the window overlooking the Hogwarts grounds. Sirius wanders inside distractedly, suddenly exhausted. He empties his pockets, shifts into Padfoot and curls up under the bed.

Chapter Text

“Your brother approached me recently.” Hadrian tells him. He’s stretched out beside Sirius, staring across the Black Lake with a heavy lidded gaze. His jumper lays neatly folded on the grass, arms on display as he rolls up his sleeves. The sun hangs heavily over them. Summer vacation sits a week away, looming and dreadful.

Sirius shifts to his side, propping himself up on his elbows. “About what?”

“About you.” Hadrian quirks an eyebrow at him. “What else would it be? We have no reason to talk.”

“Didn’t McMilson tell you to cultivate relationships?” Sirius teases. “What did he say? He’s been ignoring me all year.” And Sirius has been ignoring the fact that he cares.

“It vaguely sounded like shovel talk to be honest.” Hadrian muses and Sirius laughs at him. “Said your parents would not take kindly for you to be involved with another half blood. However, he didn’t call me a blood traitor but I’m not sure if it was out of politeness or because he watched me vanish the bones in Rosier’s legs the last time he uttered such a phrase towards me.”

Sirius sits up fully. “That was you ?”

Evan Rosier had been out of commission for a month after that debacle. It wasn’t often that Slytherin disputes left their sullen common room but the news of Rosier’s condition had spread through the school like fiendfyre. However, they all remained very tight-lipped about how the occurrence happened and who had done it. Hadrian looks at him, amused, an impish smile crossing his features.

“Naturally.” Hadrian says simply. “I refuse to be called out of my name to my face. Fortune does favor the bold but it also leads to consequences. He’s lucky I didn’t turn him into a sack.”

“You’re a bit scary.” Sirius says, awed. “That’s incredible.”

“It’s one of the reasons no one bothers me or bothers pressing about my association with you.” Hadrian leans back on his arms. “Severus was vaguely irritated upon that discovery but he’s smart enough to leave it. Have you apologized to him?”

“Who? Severus Snape? Absolutely, fucking, not.” Sirius snarls. “He’s a mini dementor. I don’t know what Lily sees in that pile of shit.”

“Hmm, you should consider it.” Hadrian chuckles. “You’re, after all, very similar.”

“That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.” Sirius says, offended. “We have nothing in common. I should have your balls for that comment.”

“I need them for my later children.” Hadrian quips, visibly unbothered. “Don’t worry, Siri. I prefer your company.”

“It’s not a fucking competition. I’m a delight! Wait.” Sirius whirls to him, mouth hanging open. “Siri? Oh that’s just the fucking worse.”

“Oh,” Hadrian smiles easily. “What should I call you? Little star? Mon étoile?”

Sirius cheeks pinken. “Oh, fuck off.”

“So offended, maus.” Hadrian hums, tilting his head towards the sun. “I’m sure Regulus will seek you out. Though I’m surprised he hadn’t before. We aren’t a new discovery.”

A familiar silence settles over them. Sirius slumps back down, one arm cradled under his head. The sky stretches overhead in spasms of pale blue and yellow, clouds fat and cheerful as they absently drift by. Sirius ponders over Hadrian’s admittance, unsure how to feel about any of it. Regulus. Snape. He rolls onto his back, hands folded over his stomach and swallows thickly. Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he ended up in Slytherin. The hat was adamant in its decision despite his upbringing.

Sirius likes to think he’s daring, courageous but recent events have suggested otherwise. There was a tenacious level of vicious glee when he sent Snape off and the immediate regret that followed was smoldering. What did it say about his own friendships if he was willing to use them as weapons? Would he do it again? Sirius sits up, running a trembling hand through his hair. 

“I’m not looking forward to summer.” Sirius admits.

“I imagine not.” Hadrian agrees. “Even if you’re still on the outs with your friends, you have me. I’m sure even Evans will accept an owl from you. In addition, you have Lord Black. His owl has been a frequent guest at your table.”

“Pépé thinks it’s funny to send his demon creature to stare me down.” Sirius laughs. “I’ve finally earned some approval from the damn thing. It’s… It’s been nice to talk to him. He’s not mémé but he has his own way of showing he gives a shit.”

“Good. You deserve one less trash bandit of a family member.” Hadrian says. “Lord Black is an interesting man. I’m aware of his… political ideals. However, I have hope his tides are changing. You’re still his heir after all and you are not quiet when it comes to your own ideals. Apparently, my father will be meeting him in the early summer so naturally, I’m being dragged along.”

Sirius looks at him. “What’s your father like? I hardly see you get mail.”

“We communicate in other ways.” Hadrian tells him. “My father is… a bit of a complex man. Full of valor. Nothing gets by him. He’s changed a bit after he came into his new position but still very much the same. He wants the best for me.”

“Are you his only kid?”

Hadrian nods. “In this life, yes. I imagine in another he’s had plenty. I’d say he deserves some peace but his sense of duty prevails over anything else.”

“That sounds incredibly cryptic.” Sirius chuckles, looking distractedly across the lake. “Pépé calls your house The House of Death.”

Hadrian rises to his feet, his eyes a bit distant. “Because it is. Does that scare you?”

“No. It just makes me more curious about your dad.” Sirius looks up at Hadrian. “I forgot you have class.”

“Flatterer. He’d be delighted to meet you. My father is a nostalgic man.” Hadrian scoops his jumper from the ground and tosses it lazily onto Sirius’ lap. “Wear that. You get cold too easily. However, I expect it back.”

“No.” Sirius says simply, pulling it over his head. It smells vaguely of sunshine and the deeper scent of Hadrian’s cologne. Hadrian flicks his fingers at him in response, striding off with an eye roll that leaves Sirius laughing. Sirius watches him go, fond and amused. He settles back on his side, basking in the gentle warmth of the sun, the rustle of leaves and far distant laughter. Sirius doesn’t know how long he lays there but his mind is, for once, blissfully empty.

Everything is still a disaster but he has this moment.

Sirius eventually makes his way back to the castle, pleasantly warm. A group of giggling girls give him flirty looks as he passes, which is endearing and extremely welcome considering he’s felt like shit for what feels like almost forever. He’s halfway to class when Regulus appears in front of him, his expression haughty and irritated. His usual group is nowhere to be seen.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks, settling a decent distance away.

Regulus’ brow twitches. “We need to talk.”

“And what would we need to talk about so suddenly?” Sirius presses, shoulders tensing. “You’ve ignored my existence this entire year. You wouldn’t even talk to me over Yule break until you got pissy when I went to the Potters. If it’s about Hadrian, save it.”

“ Hadrian .” Regulus spits, eyes flashing furiously. “Of course you’re on a first name basis. It was bad enough with Potter and your gaggle of dysfunctional friends.”

Sirius sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not doing this with you. If you have actual words to say, say them. Plainly. Otherwise, I need to go to class.”

“Come with me.” Regulus demands and Sirius follows with a sigh. He’s dragged into an empty classroom almost immediately and watches absently as Regulus sends up a silencing charm. He rounds on Sirius with a bristling anger that would rival his own. Sirius stares at him, impassive and blank, which only increases Regulus’ ire.

“What are you doing ?” Regulus snaps. “Maman knows you’re talking to our grandfather behind her back. She’s furious with you.”

“And how would she know that? Grandfather wouldn’t reach out for her permission. You’re such a little snitch . I wasn’t aware I needed permission to speak to my own grandfather.” Sirius leans against a desk, crossing his arms. “ He is the lord of our house, not maman.”

“I’m not the one who told her.” Regulus says, indignant. “You’ve never been interested in speaking to him before.” 

Sirius lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Mémé is gone. Did you think I’d never speak to him again? And if you didn’t tell her, who did?”

“Maman wouldn’t say. She mentioned it in a letter.” Regulus says.

“Surprised she hasn’t sent me another howler. Bitter cow.” Sirius scoffs. “I’ll write to whoever I want. It’s not my fault she’s a dull read.”

“Sirius, you keep pushing her. You’ve been a disaster since your sorting and each year you get worse.” Regulus deflates a bit, looking much like the child Sirius remembers. “You are reaching a catalyst. You need to stop.”

“Haven’t you noticed, brother? I’m already at one. It doesn’t matter.” Sirius dismisses, straightening. “Nothing will ever be good enough for her. Even if I acted like you and the rest of that bumblefuck crew you have. It wouldn’t matter.”

“It wouldn’t matter? She lets you get away with so much of your bullshit!” Regulus makes a frustrated noise. “You are fucking impossible! Maman has been easy on you!”

“Easy? Are you fucking insane? Why do you even care , Regulus?” Sirius snaps, nostrils flaring. “What are they going to do? Kick me out? I don’t give a fuck! Maman could blast me off that goddamn tapestry and I still wouldn’t fucking care!”

Regulus pales.

“Easy? As if I haven’t taken every single fucking hit sent your way whenever you manage to fuck up. Fuck off .” Sirius spits, hands fisted at his sides. “God, you’re still such a blasted dick. Have your perfect, diabolical family. I don’t give a fuck! Who cares if I left?”

“You can’t leave!” Regulus shouts, his voice borderline hysterical. “You promised! You promised me!”

You shouldn’t show a nerve like that, Sirius thinks wildly and it makes him dizzy with sickness. He flattens, staring at his brother, his frazzled appearance and wide eyes and, suddenly, he’s 7 again, watching his mother backhand Regulus for selecting the wrong spoon at the table, the ugly anger that followed when he upturned the entire dinner table and shouted at her. It didn’t matter when Maman turned on him, her face dark and dangerous. All that mattered was that it wasn’t Regulus. 

Regulus became quieter and in turn, Sirius became louder. 

A wild animal caught in a trap , Hadrian had said. Sirius has never been anything else.

Regulus pants softly, staring desperately at Sirius, much like a child. That’s all they are, all they’ve ever been even if the world presses back and tells them they’re no such thing, even if his mother bares down with her teeth in their necks and shakes. And Sirius. Sirius is tired. A violent onslaught of emotion surges through him so desperately, he gags. He’s angry, he’s sad, he’s bleeding through every pore and wanting nothing more to come out of his own skin and scream.

“You and I both know that she would rather kill me than release me from that house.” Sirius bites out. He forces an ugly smile. “Cheer up, brother. I’m not dead yet.”

Regulus’ face clears in understanding, his throat working harshly as the words settle between them. There’s bitterness and acceptance, two things Sirius knows well. Regulus gathers himself, emotion tucked firmly behind an impassive mask. He smooths a hand over his robes and lifts his chin, a familiar arrogance settling over him. When Regulus leaves, the air seems to go with it.

Sirius pushes his fingers so hard into the corner of his eyes his vision sparks. He heaves himself upward, rolling his shoulders and heads towards the classroom door. It opens once his fingers curl around the doorknob, jerking out of his hand as the door swings backward. James stands on the other side, expression comically surprised and any other time prior, Sirius would’ve teased him mercilessly. Sirius desperately wishes he had locked down his face before leaving because James’ brow furrows and he appears concerned like he’s forgotten they aren’t friends currently, like Sirius hasn’t fucked everything to hell.

James’ shoulders are slouched, fingers twitchy at his sides in an unusual display of nerves. There’s a smudge on his glasses, the Marauder’s map tucked under his arm.

Sirius swallows hard. He doesn’t say anything, can’t even find his voice.

“I was looking for you.” James says. “I.. I wanted to talk.”

“Oh.” Sirius manages because he doesn’t even know what he’s meant to say. He’s, frankly, tired of talking today and how many more conversations must he dismantle before he can lurk into a corner somewhere and wail like a child. But this is James and even if he misses his other friend’s desperately, it’s nothing compared to the gaping wound James Potter’s absence has left behind. James gestures to the empty classroom and Sirius warily takes a step back inside. He settles against the same desk where Regulus stood across from him.

James stays near the door but allows it close behind him. Silence falls over them. Sirius picks at his cuticle absently. There is an overwhelming sadness in James’ gaze as he stares at Sirius. He ventures deeper into the classroom and settles on the desk across from him. Sirius takes this moment to look his best friend over, the dark circles under his eyes, the downturned pull of his mouth.

James sniffles, rubbing at his nose. “I wasn’t going to do this today. I mean, I was going to talk to you. Had a speech and everything, but when I saw you and Regulus together. I felt scared. I didn’t know what he wanted with you. I figured something awful had happened because I know you’ve been ignoring each other and I… I wanted to be sure you were ok.”

Sirius inhales shakily.

“I’m sure you know Minnie spoke to us. About everything.” James continues, wetting his lips. “It’s funny because that same day I spent the entire time looking for you. You weren’t on the map. I couldn’t find you anywhere. I even asked Hadrian but he wouldn’t tell me. Just said you were safe.” He slumps, appearing uncharacteristically unsure. “I didn’t even know you two had gotten close… You weren’t at dinner that night. Then she came by the dorm afterwards. I still couldn’t find you.”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you all week but you’re never alone and…” James sniffs, a self deprecating laugh escaping his lips. “I didn’t deserve to take you away from the friends you’ve made. McMilson. Hadrian. Fuck even Marlene. I abandoned you. I fucking transfigured your bed. I ignored you.”

“It’s ok.” Sirius interrupts desperately, his hands shaking.

“It’s not.” James shakes his head furiously. “It’s fucking not. Don’t make excuses for me. You’re mine . My brother. These weeks have been hell without you. I know Remus can feel it too but he’s so hurt. I understand. I do. I’m upset. I’m so angry sometimes I want to scream. But you’re not even here for me to be mad at. You’re just gone. We did that to you. I did that to you. I hate it so much.”

“Jamie…”

“It was only a matter of time.” James runs a hand through his hair. “Snape’s been… He’s been so obsessive for so long. He’s a greasy shit but he’s smart. We weren’t careful enough. I tried to tell Dumbledore without revealing that we knew about Remus but he wouldn’t listen. Just said everything was under control.”

James meets Sirius gaze steadily, his hazel eyes burning and brilliant. “It matters that it was you but Snape made the decision to venture into an area with a werewolf. That was dumb. You made a shitty decision as well but our teachers did nothing to protect their students. What you did was awful, Pads, but it’s not all on you. I mean… we don’t even stay in the shack during the moon.”

Sirius blinks rapidly, vision glossy. A tear escapes. Then another. James slides off his desk and crosses over to him in quick strides. He brings Sirius into his arms, holding him tight, one hand buried in his hair and Sirius clutches his shirt, whimpering softly.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Pads.” James whispers. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” Sirius sobs.

James holds him tighter.

Chapter Text

James is sprawled out on Sirius’ bed, arms crossed tight against his chest and frowning. Specifically frowning at Hadrian, who lounges elegantly in one of the arm chairs, idly twirling his wand. James opens his mouth and Hadrian points his wand at him threateningly. James grumbles quietly.

Sirius watches from his place on the floor, amused and delighted. It had been a tough time after what Sirius refers to as the Brother Trapping but Regulus went right back to ignoring him, which was expected, and James was adamant that they could fall back together seamlessly, while also supporting Remus’ decision for space, which they did. Hadrian seemed hesitant about the entire thing but didn’t openly protest, which Sirius appreciated. This also meant Hadrian was now roped into The Lily Evans discussions, much to the other’s disgust.

James huffs, annoyed, and pouts. “But you didn’t even see her hair today.”

“I swear to God.” Hadrian rubs his eyes harshly. “I will hex you bald, Potter.”

“Do you think Lily would prefer it?” James looks at Sirius.

“Hopefully not.” Sirius winces. “I can’t shave my hair in solidarity, Prongs. I just got it past my collarbones.”

James regards him, then nods solemnly. “The bun is cute. Are you ponytail level yet?”

“Yes!” Sirius tugs the elastic band off, hair falling in thick waves past his shoulders. He gathers it up, fingering through a few tangles as he works it to the center of his head. Whisps frame his face, much too short to do anything about lest he look like Malfoy with his snatched hairline. Sirius ties his hair up, wagging his hands afterwards as if to say “ah ha”. He turns to one side and it swishes heavily. James makes a happy noise of approval as Hadrian clears his throat sharply.

“Oh, that’s cute, Pads.” James coos, sitting up. “You should get Marlene to braid it.”

Hadrian mutters incoherently.

Sirius lights up. “Brilliant idea.”

“Why am I here again?” Hadrian asks, slumping down in his seat. It makes him look like a tragic hero with his short, dark hair and brooding demeanor. The top two buttons of his silk shirt are open, revealing an expanse of sharp collarbones. Sirius pointedly looks away, palms sweating, and James leers at him, noticing. Sirius ignores him.

“To talk about my problems. Obviously.” James sighs loudly, clamoring off the bed. “Tell me, cousin. You’re older than me. Probably have loads of relationship advice.”

“I’m only a year older than you.” Hadrian shoots tiny blue sparks out of his wand.

James slumps against Sirius, draping an arm over his shoulders. “You’ve dated though I’m sure. Handsome dude, witty, and all that. Evans says you’re top of your class.”

“You also got asked out twice last week.” Sirius points out.

“They asked us both out.” Hadrian corrects. “The second one was inconsequential considering she was 12. ”

“I’m sure you get asked out even with me not present.” Sirius dismisses him. “Not the first threesome I’ve been invited to.”

Jame gapes. “You never told me that.”

“Yes, I did. You were there when Jocelyn Liu’s boyfriend tried to duel me in the Great Hall because I turned them both down and called him a shrimp dicked wankstain.” Sirius argues heatedly. “You decked him in the face! We got detention for two weeks and I wasn’t even physically involved.”

“Oh yeah.” James says thoughtfully. “Don’t change the subject, cousin.”

Hadrian sighs, long and suffering. “My only advice to you, James Potter, is to leave Evans alone. You’ve been less insufferable recently so for what it’s worth, that seems to be working.”

“Maybe he’s right.” James whimpers, draping himself across Sirius’ lap. 

Sirius cards a hand through his hair. “Oh Jamie. My dumb deer.”

“I’m a dumb deer.” James buries his face in Sirius’ stomach, arms squeezing his midsection. “She has been nicer to me recently. I think it’s because I’m stressed.”

“Sorry.” Sirius says softly.

“No, no. You’re worth any stress. I missed you.” It comes out muffled and sincere.

Hadrian watches them closely, expression cool and distant, eyebrow twitching. He doesn’t say anything, flicks his wand and shoots a hex at James’ ass. James lurches with a yelp, clamoring to his knees and rubs his butt furiously. He shoots Hadrian a dirty look, earning a serene smile.

James mumbles, sitting gingerly beside Sirius. “You’d bury your face in Padfoot’s stomach too if you felt how soft he is. If I can’t have Evans’ lap, I’ll-”

Hadrian’s smile turns vicious. “If you finish that sentence, I will gut you.”

“Touchy.” James mutters.

“What? Am I just second place then?” Sirius asks, nudging James’ shoulder with his own.

“No, you big cur. You’re fit as fuck.” James huffs. “Isn’t he?”

If Hadrian were a normal person, Sirius imagines he’d be red faced and stuttering at the sudden demand for his opinion. Instead, his gaze is level and the only tell is the slight twitch in his jaw.

“Of course he is. Why else would I keep him around?” Hadrian responds.

“What! Why else?!” James is immensely offended. “Sirius Black ranks 4th in our entire year! He’s only 4th because he’s ass at potions but who needs potions?! His hair is magnificent. Do you know how many students watch him as he walks? Just walking! He is the best dog I know! An all around great boy! No other dog can run as fast as he can. We’re going to do agility courses after we graduate!”

Sirius squawks. “James! You dumb deer! Shut up !”

“What? No! I’m defending you!”

“You called me a dog!”

“You call me dumb deer all the time!”

Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose. “That can be taken as an endearment, you big banana! You said I am the best dog. You said we’re doing agility courses! Which was supposed to be a secret . God, this is so embarrassing.”

James’ mouth pops open, realization clearing his face and he snaps to his cousin, wide eyed. Hadrian watches the proceedings with growing amusement, his eyes laughing as a slow smile stretches across his face. 

“I already knew this.” Hadrian admits, crossing one leg over the other.

“What?” James and Sirius cry in unison.

Hadrian nods. “Canines know other canines. Plus with a name like Prongs and then the dumb deer commentary. It’s not hard to put things together. Then there’s Peter. Naturally clumsy and sticks out rather like a sore thumb but somehow manages to pop out of nowhere. So he must be an animagus as well.”

“You’re so smart.” Sirius says, dazed and charmed.

“I thought we were so clever.” James sighs. “Wait. Canines? Are you one too? Are you fluffy? Are you a dog?”

“I’ve missed Moony’s cuddles.” Sirius mumbles. James smacks his arm, gesturing wildly with his eyebrows.

“Oh come off it, James.” Sirius rubs his arm. “He probably already knows.”

“About Lupin? Yes.” Hadrian nods. “Though considering how wary he is of me, I imagine his wolf senses what I am.”

“Are you a mean dog?” Sirius asks, wounded. “Do you steal sticks? I hate when Moony does it. He doesn’t even give them back. Just chucks them into the lake and gives me a look. The bastard.”

Hadrian laughs. “No. Just… I guess it’s best if I show you.”

Sirius and James immediately perk up.

“Now?” James asks excitedly. 

“No.” Hadrian answers curtly, rising fluidly to his feet. He tosses a jumper to Sirius, noticeably it’s one of his own. Hadrian sends Sirius a look, which he ignores. He turns back to James. “You’ll get too excited and then the room will be destroyed by your moose tendencies. We can’t have that.”

“I’m not a moose!” James flushes. “I’m a stag!”

“You’re fucking huge is what you are.” Sirius quips, pulling the jumper on. “We could sneak into the Forbidden Forest.”

“No.” Hadrian says. “I have somewhere in mind that won’t lead to unnecessary detention. I have better ways to spend my time.”

“Doing what?” Sirius asks.

“Literally anything else.” Hadrian replies, opening the bedroom door. “Though it would be easier to turn down invites to Hogsmeade if I had detention.”

“I’ve gotten a few of those.” James trails after him outside. “I haven’t accepted any because of Lily. Maybe I should start. I enjoy our friendship when she isn’t threatening my balls.”

“Friendship is a good start.” Hadrian nods sagely. He holds the door open for Sirius then allows it to swing closed. The door disappears behind a smooth rotation of brick. They trail out of the common room, following Hadrian like a pair of dysfunctional ducklings. It’s nearly curfew so there’s hardly any students loitering about. There’s no sign of Filch either, which is a rewarding sight.

“Why don’t you accept dates?” James asks, fingering a tapestry as they pass.

“I’m interested in someone already.” Hadrian answers.

“Who?” Sirius doesn’t think he’s seen Hadrian express interest in anyone.

“Don’t be jealous. It’s unseemly.” Hadrian says evasively, which is really just like him and his cryptid tendencies of never answering certain questions. Sirius huffs, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Hadrian leads them to the 7th floor, specifically to a very empty, nondescript wall and James makes a confused noise. Hadrian ignores him, walking back and forth in front of the space. A short wait later, a door appears. James balks so violently he nearly smacks Sirius in the face. He bounces up to the door eagerly.

“Incredible! This isn’t on the map!” James gasps. He spins to Hadrian. “Can we go in?”

Hadrian makes a grand gesture.

“Fuck yes!” James cheers, grabbing Sirius by the wrist and dragging him inside. Sirius goes with a laugh that immediately catches in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. The interior is a lush, enchanted forest, filled with a dense canopy of vibrant, emerald leaves that dapple the ground with patches of soft, shifting sunlight. The air is crisp and filled with the earthy scent of moss and wildflowers.

A thick layer of springy grass stretches along the ground, scattered with fallen leaves and small broken branches. Trees with wide, sturdy trunks stand like ancient sentinels, their lower branches stretching out as if bowing. A clear, babbling brook meanders through the forest, its water sparkling like liquid crystal. Large, flat stones dot the brook. 

Sirius gasps, stumbling to a stop.

“It’s perfect.” James says, awe coloring his voice.

“Think of how much grass you can eat.” Hadrian muses, settling beside them.

“So much grass.” James agrees. He takes a step forward, then hesitates, turning to look at them. “You first. Let’s see your mean dog.”

Hadrian lifts an eyebrow. “I never agreed to this description”

James merely crosses his arms, waiting, and Hadrian rolls his eyes. He wanders deeper into the room, bathed in sunlight that turns his skin almost gold and turns to them. A sneeze of magic and he’s gone, replaced with a massive, hulking thing . Its fur is a haphazard blend of dusty silver and black that shimmers unnaturally. The snout is nearly skeletal, stark white bone bleeding through a thin layer of fur, with elongated jagged sharp fangs. Sirius takes a step forward, lips parted in muted awe. 

“What the fuck.” James blurts eloquently.

Hadrian waits, his emerald gaze shimmering into an eerie pale green. His posture is loose and easy. Sirius reaches out his hand, hesitant, and Hadrian huffs deeply. Sirius runs his hand along his snout, incredibly chilled and smooth until his fingers run into thick, coarse fur when he reaches the base of his neck. Hadrian nudges him, pressing his large head into Sirius’ belly and Sirius laughs, watching Hadrian’s ears prick at the sound before flattening against his skull.

“Incredible.” Sirius whispers, earning a low thrum of approval.

“No wonder Moony keeps his distance.” James hums, moving towards them. “If I pet you, will you bite me?”

Hadrian makes a quiet noise, pressing harder into Sirius. His ears flick against Sirius’ chin then flatten again when he scratches behind his ears. Sirius looks at James.

“That’s offensive. I’ve never bitten you.”

“Yes, you have. I still have the scar on my thigh.” James chirps happily, running his hands through Hadrian’s fur. “Not as fluffy as Pads but you’ll do. Please remember I’m a deer. Deer are friends, not food.”

“Only during the apocalypse. Desperate times and all that.” Sirius laughs.

“Fuck off, Pads.” James says pleasantly. “Well, let’s join the man. The second you two start bullying me I’m going to cry so just don’t.”

Then James is gone and a magnificent stag trots in his place, his large antlers stretching out wide like an ancient king of old. Sirius pats James’ chest before he wanders off, then steps away from Hadrian who seems to grumble in disapproval. The sound sends a shiver down his spine, mind ringing with an influx of ‘danger, danger, danger’. Hadrian lifts his head, exhaling slowly through his nose, and scratches at the ground. He looks duly unimpressed despite being whatever the hell he is.

Sirius laughs and shifts, shaking out his fur easily. He barks loudly, tail wagging in enthusiasm, and bounces up to Hadrian. Sirius knows he’s a massive dog but Hadrian positively dwarfs him. When nothing happens, Sirius barks again, more demanding, and bumps his chest with his head. He nips at Hadrian’s neck, pleased when that gets a response, even if it’s him being forcibly knocked on his back. The noise Hadrian makes is not remotely canine, animal, or human. It sounds incredibly primitive, deep in pitch and crackling like a roaring fire.

James meanders over, lazily chewing a mouthful of grass and leaves, his expression curious, and stomps his foot. He watches Sirius roll onto his belly, tail wagging, tongue lolling out and promptly spits the mulled mess onto his face. Sirius gapes, as much as he can as a dog, and charges at him, barking furiously. James bounds away like the asshole he is and Sirius chases. Hadrian settles into the grass, one massive paw crossed over the other and watches them.

They wrestle for a while, which is difficult because James is a cheater who uses his antlers to his advantage and Sirius keeps nipping his flank but it’s been too long for either of them to care. Sirius doesn’t know how much time passes but in the end, he’s panting and exhausted. James curls up beside Hadrian, long legs tucked under him like a loafed walrus and makes a deep, bulging noise when Sirius planks some distance away. Sirius wants to tell him to fuck off but he’s a dog so he drags himself to his feet and promptly squeezes between them. He rests his head on James’ back, whining softly. A rumble sounds in return as Hadrian curls around them, his head tucked under Sirius’ chest.

Sirius drifts off to sleep first.

Chapter Text

Sirius sprawls out on his childhood bed, a bit like a starfish, counting kernels of plaster distractedly. It had been a hectic few weeks with Regulus, then James, and his OWLs. Hadrian had been thoroughly unimpressed with his dramatics but dutifully allowed him to snuggle Boo in the owlery. Then the train ride for summer hit and Sirius found himself distraught as if someone had finally done what his mother never could and simply snapped his strings. 

Sirius doesn’t even remember how he got home a few weeks ago, barely remembers the train ride with McMilson, Hadrian and a panicked James, who would float from the Marauders compartment to his and back. He does remember standing on the platform, heart in his throat, and Hadrian pressing an ivory pocket watch into his palm and James’ tight, aggressive hug.

His mother had been furious. With his pierced ears, his attire, his hair, his everything as she always was.

Sirius curls onto his side, eying the pocket watch nestled beside him. He fingers the fine, intricate details and quiet ticking watch hands. It was a beautiful piece with a smooth jade chain attached. Sirius has received gifts from friends before, especially James, but it seemed a bit much for friendship but Hadrian had ignored his protests, leveled him with a look and left.

There’s a sharp pop and Sirius sits up with a sigh. Kreacher appears, his gnarled face twisted with a sneer as he bows. The tip of his hooked nose is a brilliant, shiny red.

“Mistress requires disappointment in the Master's study.” The elf croaks, straightening. He eyes Sirius’ attire critically. “Disappointment needs to change.”

“I’m not doing that.” Sirius says, slipping off the bed. “It’s fucking 11 at night. She’ll deal.”

“Dirtying Mistress’ fine furniture. Poor Mistress.” Kreacher mutters. He sniffs wetly and disappears with a pop. Sirius rolls his eyes, snatching a jumper from his trunk and pulls it on as he goes. He’s wary of what his mother could want so late in the evening, considering she hadn’t said a word to him all day and then proceeded to lock him in a closet for dinner. 

His father’s study is a floor up, taking up a majority of space with its outlandish design and silky interior. It has the personality of his father, bleak and absent. The ebony doors stare mockingly at him, polished silver handles gleaming. Sirius taps his knuckles gently against the wood and waits.

“Enter.” Walburga calls cooly. 

There’s a heavy swish of magic that blows the doors open. Sirius resists a sigh, wandering inside. The study hasn’t changed, walls line with bookshelves filled to the brim, an ornate globe sparkling silver as it twirls idly. His mother stands in the center, nursing a glass of brandy, which is a sign that this conversation will go poorly. Sirius braces himself.

“Maman.” Sirius greets curtly and her silvery, blue eyes drift towards him. When her face is like this, empty, cool, he can appreciate her beauty, all marble and smooth indifference. Sirius remembers being a child, thinking she was the most stunning thing he had ever seen.

Walburga strides behind his father’s ornate desk, procuring a thick piece of parchment. She slides it smoothly across the surface and turns it to face him. Walburga says nothing and every hair on the back of Sirius’ neck rises, wary. Sirius pushes forward, eyes flickering to his mother then to the paper between them. It’s a betrothal contract. To Bellatrix. His cousin.

Sirius bristles, immediately stepping away. “Absolutely not.”

“You will honor it.” Walburga says, turning up her nose. “Consider this a test of loyalty to your title, brat. I had half a mind to wed you off to the Goyle’s considering how you’ve acted recently but even they aren’t worthy of you.”

“I fucking refuse. I’m not your damn show pony!” Sirius snarls. 

“Hold your tongue, you filthy worm.” Walburga hisses angrily, setting her glass down hard. “You should be honored. You should be groveling for forgiveness after being allowed to slander our image by bedding blood traitors and half breeds.”

“By marrying my fucking cousin? No thanks, mommy dearest.” Sirius spits, moving to leave.

The office doors slam shut. Sirius stares at them, nails biting into his palms and his fists tremble. He rounds on his mother, mouth twisted and sneering. Walburga regards him coolly, unbothered, her wand already in hand. Her eyes flash dangerously.

“I don’t need your permission, silly boy.” She says. “I am your mother . You will wed who I say. ”

“Sounds like you’re projecting. Shall I bed you next then, maman?” Sirius grins nastily. 

Walburga is on him in a second, bright eyed and murderous and smiling , wand pressed deep into his neck as she croons, “Crucio”.

Sirius has experienced pain, an abstract concept, a distant idea that could be remembered through skinned knees, broken bones, heartache. But this ? He goes down hard, a force so all consuming bubbling up inside him that it explodes in red hot agony. Sirius’ vision blurs, sharp spasms rippling through his body like his bones are trying to tear through him and his ears won’t stop ringing and ringing.

He’s dimly aware of the cold, marble floor beneath him, body contorting on the ground. His muscles seize tightly and he hears a snap, deep and raw and he realizes he’s screaming, has been screaming this entire time. Then, the curse is lifted, and Sirius gasps wetly, limbs twitching as his nerves scramble back together. He can’t catalog any one source of pain and it all throbs like a deep, wounded throb.

“Prideful.” Walburga purrs, voice distant and venomous. “It’s what I love about you, Sirius Orion. You’re so close. Beautiful. Capable. Yet you defy our blood, our traditions. Our legacy. For the approval of those lesser than us. If you used the traits I’ve given you to be anything like your brother, you’d be perfect . Crucio.”

Sirius grinds his teeth hard as it hits again. He bites through his cheek, choking and spluttering as his throat works around a hoarse scream. It’s hard to find his bearings. The room spins and twirls and vibrates and then, the curse is lifted. Sirius wheezes brokenly, tears sliding down his face. His body is wound up too tight and it hurts, hurts, hurts. He trembles violently.

Walburga strides around him, the ends of her dress brushing along his skin, humming thoughtfully. Sirius forces himself to his knees. His legs quiver beneath him, arms spasming and it takes everything in him to snatch the wand from her hands. Sirius winces, breath harsh and fast, struggling to close his fingers around it. His body refuses to stop shaking. The wand clatters absently to the ground and Sirius collapses forward, dizzy and winded. Walburga shrieks wordlessly, smacking him hard. Her sharp nails drag across his face. The air thickens with her rage.

“Insolent boy .” Walburga’s fingers tangle in his hair, teeth bared. She drags him to his knees, nails biting hard into his scalp. “I’ll put you in the ground.”

“You first, maman .” Sirius laughs, bloodied and awful, and spits in her face.

It’s a kaleidoscope of something after that. Sirius doesn’t really know who screamed more, himself or his mother. His mind whirrs together like a visceral, hot white meld of emotions that can’t seem to land on a single thing, constantly spinning and spinning and at one point, his brain blanks entirely. Sirius is barely coherent, thoughtless and floating, his body barely held together by magic itself. He vomits sickeningly dark bile onto the floor.

When Walburga lifts her wand again, her hair disheveled and raggedy and every inch of a Black, Sirius realizes she’s going to kill him. She’s going to kill me, she’s going to kill me, he thinks quietly, his thoughts racing with rampant colors and noises.  Her wand is on his skin again and the room splits apart at the seams. The pain hits him instantly. Sirius’ throat goes tight, thick and coated in hot fluid in realization. She’s actually going to kill me, Sirius thinks, delirious, desperate, and his heart cracks, disbelieving and wounded and furious . His emotions spiral beyond his control until he explodes.

*

Regulus is sitting in his bedroom when he feels it. The air had turned brittle and static before freezing instantly, tiny wisps of dust remained suspended midair. Goosebumps ripple across his skin. He can’t even stand, gravity pressing down so sharply it locks his knees in place. His lungs struggle to expand. Regulus coughs haggardly, fingers twitching in his lap. A deafening crack echoes through the air, splitting the ceiling into cobwebs of plaster as it rumbles above him. The lights flicker maddeningly. Thick, deep jagged lines drag across his bedroom walls.

Fragments of wallpaper begin to disintegrate into swirling embers, and the walls of the ancestral home tremble . The sounds of crashes fill the air. His mirror topples over and shatters. The house itself seems to inhale deeply and press. Regulus is slammed to the ground suddenly, tears pricking his eyes at the swell of sheer power pinning him down. He struggles to his knees, weighted and winded and his senses suddenly flood with the smell of his brother’s magic, wild and rampant and scared .

“K-Kreacher!” Regulus calls, bracing himself on his hands. Kreacher doesn’t come.

The pressure leaves immediately as if sucked in like a vacuum and Regulus breathes in greedy gulps. He staggers to his feet, rushing towards the door. Regulus barely manages to get it open when a raging howl reverberates through the house. The sound rattles him to his bones causing them to shake in agony. The ceiling throbs above like a heartbeat. Regulus catches a tendril of magic and staggers after it, braced against the wall. A pulse rings through the house and he slams to his knees gasping. Regulus takes a moment then moves. He doesn’t see his father anywhere. 

“Kreacher!” Regulus manages, staggering up the stairs. Kreacher still doesn’t come.

Regulus grits his teeth and pushes forward. His father’s study is blown open, doors smashed into splinters against the wall. He struggles towards it, grasping the open doorway and slumps tiredly. A deep thump sings through the air, like a heartbeat. Regulus falls the rest of the way to the floor, halfway inside the office. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, what he’s seeing. The air smells poisonous and vile, oozing dark, spindly magic centered right in the center of the room. It’s barely a shape but it moves like one, convulsing rapidly.

“Beautiful! He’s beautiful!” Regulus startles, noticing his mother pinned against the wall by a long, pitch black arm. It’s bizarre magic. That's the only thing Regulus can think, watching as the arm drips and slurps its excess back into itself. His mother’s eyes are crazed, a mad smile stretched wide across her face. A trickle of blood drips from her hairline. She looks like Bellatrix, beautiful and scattered. There’s another pulse that courses throughout the entire house and a ripple of black shudders up the arm and shoves her further into the wall. It cracks behind her. A deranged cackle leaves his mother’s lips.

Walburga is the happiest Regulus has ever seen her.

Regulus drags his gaze back to the mass, watches it writhe and spread against the floor as it rattles upward to form a face, something canine and inhuman. All long snout and monstrous. Its jowls spread apart into a swirling, grotesque suggestion of teeth . It sways dangerously, dripping uneasy, dreadful magic. Regulus sees Sirius then, twitching against the marble floor, bloodied foam collecting around his mouth. He’s braced on his elbows, skin pulling across his bones, body glitching with unrestrained magic that pumps rapidly into the thing hovering above him. Sirius vomits raggedly, slumping onto his side. He doesn’t move.

Regulus is on his feet before he registers it and that large head snaps to him instantly, baring those ghastly teeth with an inhuman snarl, eyes two empty holes of inky black that flay him to his very soul.

“Sirius.” Regulus chokes and the thing rears back as if startled. Tendrils surround him, touching his skin, assessing and overwhelming and terrifying and so distinctly Sirius that Regulus nearly falls into it. It warms over him, soft and fluttery like a spring morning. Regulus shudders overwhelmed with the rapid onslaught of emotion that rises inside him.

Walburga screeches. “Don’t stop him, you ungrateful spare ! It’s magnificent! Magnificent!”

“Sirius.” Regulus ignores her, ignores the sting of her words. He pushes forward, stressing, heart hammering wildly in his chest. “Sirius. It’s too much. You’ll die. You’ll die. You can’t leave me . You promised .”

The head stares at him, long and agonizing, then tilts towards the ceiling with a screeching howl. The very foundation of the house quakes in response. Regulus is brought to his knees, watching in distant wonder as it convulses violently, snarling at Walburga one last time before it surges back into Sirius like an oil spill. Regulus darts forward, hands trembling, and gathers Sirius into his arms. He’s freezing, skin ashen with angry, bleeding scars stretched across his face. Unruly magic ripples across his skin until it burrows and bubbles visibly underneath. It’s unnerving and awful and Regulus just wants to shake him to make it stop. Sirius convulses in Regulus’ arms.

“R-Reg-” Sirius chokes up blood.

“Stop talking, you idiot.” Regulus hisses, his voice breaking. “Kreacher!”

There’s a pop and Kreacher lurches towards them, eyes bulging and panicked. “Kreature couldn’t move! He couldn’t leave! The house! The house! He heard Young Mast-”

“Take us to Potter Manor!” Regulus interrupts desperately.

“You will not take him from me.” Walburga snarls, slumped weakly against the wall. She staggers to her feet, wand clasped tight in her hand. “He’s mine . He’s mine! Once I fix him he’ll be perfect! The perfect heir.”

“Kreacher!” Regulus shouts over her. “Please! He’ll die. He’ll die here!”

Kreacher looks torn, eyes darting between Walburga and Regulus. He lays a shaky hand on Regulus’ shoulder and Walburga screams of rage is the last thing he hears. They land with a sharp crash, Sirius clutched tight to his chest. Sirius quakes harshly against him. A light clicks on and the room becomes flooded with a warm glow. Eruptive magic spills out of Sirius with a low buzz, a darkening aura surrounding them like tendrils. It spreads across the room slowly, then suddenly, hesitating right before the doorway, it surges back inside his brother with an audible snap.

“ Monty .” Sirius sighs in devastating relief. He slumps tiredly, head lolling against Regulus’ collarbone as if all the fight has been drained out of him.

Regulus would know Fleamont Potter anywhere, a true testament to James’ genes. He’s tall, broad shouldered with a familiar mop of disheveled hair and piercing dark eyes. Fleamont stares at them for a long moment, seeming lost at what he’s seeing and Regulus can’t find words to speak, holding his bleeding, older brother. Sirius coughs raggedly, his hand fisted in Regulus’ shirt. 

“S-safe.” He says weakly then faints. It would be hysterical if Regulus wasn’t about to pull apart at the seams. 

“Sirius…” Fleamont manages, his face paling with realization. He staggers towards them, breath coming quick and fast. Soft footsteps hurry towards them and James’ mother appears, her kind, hazel eyes immediately sharpening. She pushes Fleamont aside, dropping to her knees in front of Regulus. Her hand trembles on Sirius’ hair.

Distantly, Regulus realizes they’ve landed in the center of the Potter’s parlor. Kreacher is nowhere to be seen. The mother is speaking to him but he can’t hear her, can’t hear anything beyond a faint buzz. A hand gently touches his face and he startles badly, clutching Sirius closer. Sirius doesn’t stir, deathly slack.

“You must be Regulus. Sirius has spoken fondly about you.” Potter’s mother says softly. “I’m Euphemia.”

Regulus swallows thickly. “I don’t know what happened.”

“That’s okay.” Euphemia assures him. “Let me see what I can do.”

Regulus’ breath catches, scared, terrified. “I don’t know what happened.” 

“Monty, fetch Mipsy please. Have her inform Lord Black.” Euphemia looks at Regulus. “How about a cup of tea while I look over Sirius ok?” 

“Ok.” Regulus whispers. He doesn’t let go, can’t let go. For all of his big brother’s arrogance, Regulus never expected what he saw, what he felt . Even split and frayed and violent that thing recognized him. 

Euphemia lays a gentle hand on his arm. “You got him here. That is enough . You got him here. Let me take over.”

It takes great effort for Regulus to relinquish custody, staring absently at his brother’s body. A tremor works its way through him, acrid fear beating hard against his ribs. Fleamont helps him to his feet and guides him deeper into the house. He’s then sat at a long table with a steaming cup of tea placed in front of him. Fleamont is kind enough to vanish the blood from his clothes, his hands but he can still feel the texture, tacky and slick, like a film. Regulus stares at the tea. He can hear a clock ticking.

His hands shake.

“Is everything ok?” James Potter’s voice rings through the air. Regulus can tell the exact moment James notices him, the quick intake of breath and sudden presence of volatile, woodsy magic. He thunders away, his voice breaking as he yells Sirius’ name. Regulus continues to stare at the tea.

There are voices, varying in pitch. Desperate tears burn hot in Regulus’ eyes. He takes the cup with quivering hands. It’s warm. It’s so warm and Sirius was so cold in his arms. His mouth twists bitterly. Regulus sets the cup back down and buries his face in his hands and wishes, miserably, he could bury his face into Sirius’ shoulder like he used to. He feels like a child again, watching them argue through a crack in his bedroom door. Sirius’ righteous, explosive anger against their mother’s eruptive, dangerous humor.

Regulus’ throat catches. I disobeyed her, he thinks and he’s scared, so scared but it was nothing compared to the terror he felt when that magic touched him, the sheer relief that followed when it turned soft and sweet. Sirius would never hurt him, has taken so much for him yet he sits here, shaking and too small. Regulus gasps, tears spilling from his eyes, overwhelmed and aching and relieved and he doesn’t deserve to be when Sirius has been nothing but straightforward and brash and idiotic as always. 

If his mother was here she’d throttle him. 

No one deserves a Black’s loyalty, she’d sneer. 

But his mother is not here and he thinks, perhaps, Sirius does in fact deserve his.

Blacks do not cry, she’d hiss.

Regulus Black, seated in the dining room of Potter Manor, weeps.

Chapter Text

Lord Potter,

I have received notice from my personal healer, Nathalie Benoit. She will be returning to your manor promptly. I would not be surprised if she was already there. Her rate has been discussed and handled. Healer Benoit is exceptional and held in high regard by her peers. She has been of service to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black for many years. I would trust no other with the care of my heir and grandsons. 

At this time, I am unable to return yet as I find myself dealing with the fallout amongst my children and our family. Curious as many of them claimed to have felt the incident when it occurred. I imagine my heir had called upon our family magic in his time of need but I remain cautious of such explanations as I had not felt anything. Regulus had not mentioned anything either beyond what he felt in the house itself.

Rest assured, Walburga has been dealt with. There is no need to address your wards as I, personally, have handled it. Though I shall not take offense if you choose to do so as safety is paramount during this delicate time. The Prophet has also been handled.

Upon my return, I request counsel amongst yourself and Lady Potter. The reaction felt amongst the Black family has created quite a stir. I know we are not often on the same side of the spectrum, still, I appreciate any insight you both may offer. I thank you for your discretion and care during this time. 

A Black never forgets his debts.

Sincerely,

Arcturus

Lord of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black 

*

Prongs,

Have you looked at the paper? I’m really worried about Padfoot. It feels really strange. The timing is too coincidental. Did his mother think he had nowhere to go? I’m scared, James. We’ve seen his mother. She’s a world class cunt. What if he’s never found? What if he’s dead? Who will I get Runes homework from? These past months were hard enough. I’m unsure if I’ll scrape by with a T at this point.

I know Moony is upset with him but he’s a Marauder. If you’ve seen him, or heard anything, would you let me know? Even my mother is asking questions. I just want to know if he’s safe.

Yours, 

Wormtail

*

James,

Have you heard from Pads? If he ran anywhere, I’m sure he’d come to you. I know you two made up. I don’t hold it against you. I tried sending a letter but the owl came back. I’m really scared, Prongs. What if something happened? I feel so conflicted. 

He hasn’t sent any owls and I’m sure if he did, I would have ignored them. I’m angry but I want him safe. What if I messed up? What if the last time I spoke to him was the last time? Let me know if you hear from him, yeah?

Remus (Moony)

*

Cousin,

I appreciate your letter. I apologize again for my outburst. Nyx assured me the damage was righted to its original glory. I admit, I find myself too embarrassed to write another letter to your parents despite their understanding. 

My father has also transferred over what would have covered the cost if you went with traditional means to the Potter vault as well as your individual ones. Your parents were informed. We will not accept it back. I will be upset if you try. Enjoy, cousin. Would hate for Sirius to awaken without you.

Hadrian

Heir to The Most Noble and Ancient House of Peverell & Slytherin

*

Sirius,

I’m sure my letter may come as a shock to you. Marlene McKinnon deigning to put a quill to paper? Unheard of. Lucky for you, Potter owled me before I could turn up at your home and truly make a scene. I hope you’re doing well, my fine friend. I managed to snag a copy of the Prophet before the papers were pulled. Apparently they fired the reporter. Even now the paper currently in my possession has been changed to some weird article about Mandrakes. Wish I had such money. Perhaps tell your sugar daddy to send a box of bonbons when it suits his royal ass. Or tell Hadrian.

I’m being cheeky. I miss you so much. I’m glad you’re safe. And at the very least, well fed. You’re still too skinny, Black. I know, I know. McKinnon, you’d say. Abs like this don’t come for free. You got kicked off the Quidditch team for what? If you were a woman… Well, let’s not be distasteful. Hmm, I don’t think I’d be your type anyway. You do seem to go for domineering, cool, aloof Slytherins who stare after you as you walk away. 

I kid. Or do I? Though you are still an exceptional specimen of the male variety, Dorcas holds my heart but I can appreciate art when I see it. Don’t let it go to your head. 

Hmm. Actually, you’ve been beat enough so maybe let a little swell that great noggin of yours. Enjoy my mercy.

Love,

Marls

*

Orion,

It gratifies me that you are recovering well. Ophelia has a room for you prepared at the Manor. I have a few minor circumstances that must be dealt with. However, I will be the one to retrieve you once Healer Chauncey deems you fit enough. Do rest well, son. We have much work to do.

Arcturus

Lord of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black 

*

James Potter,

Have you heard from Sirius? We aren’t exactly friends but I saw the papers. They’re gone now but I know what I saw. I’m worried. He may be a git but… I find that I am fond of Sirius Black. It would be a waste of magic if he just disappeared.

I’m sure in my heart that he went to you. Let me know. 

Please.

Sincerely,

Lily Evans

*

Black,

Heard your swine of a brother got offed. Is it true? I didn’t think anything would take him out but father always said your mum was a right bitch. Too bad he and I couldn’t have one last go in the courtyard.

Hope your summer’s been pleasant. You need more sun.

Crouch

*

Cousin,

Lord Black summoned the family to Black Manor. I noticed you weren’t there. However, your father was in attendance. I’m now aware he wasn’t present during… the altercation between Sirius and Aunt Walburga, however, it seems that we all felt a similar…. occurrence. It was peculiar. Bellatrix is beside herself in excitement.

Lord Black informed us that he felt no such pull or any semblance of his magic being rattled in such a way. I can’t begin to describe how it felt at the moment. I have also never seen your father so enraged. I continue to find myself unsettled. It felt like a warning, cousin. I know he is your brother and that Sirius would rather die than see harm come to you but what I felt was unimaginable. 

Aunt Walburga has been confined to your family home. I was allowed to visit her. It was an equally unnerving affair. The way she spoke of Sirius. The state of her magic. As appalling as my words may seem, I wish I had never visited. I hope you’re well. Be careful. I know you’re with Sirius. Despite our differences, I hope he recovers. I never want to feel anything like what I felt that night.

Truly yours,

Narcissa

*

Sirius Black,

Don’t go disappearing. You owe me a duel after all and I’ll need some entertainment now that Ghile is gone. I don’t know why we can’t keep competent professors in DADA. I was really looking forward to a Dueling Club. Oh well. 

I hope you’re ok. I know we met a few times but it would be such a shame. I’ve owled Hadrian. His response was intimidating if not hopeful. I’m sure he wouldn’t be so sarcastic and crass if anything severe happened to you.

I’ll see you at the beginning of term,

Henry McMilson

*

Sirius,

Hi Sirius! James owled me and I’m so happy you’re recovering well! I was thrown into a right fit when I saw the papers. Trust you to be so outrageous even in your apparent death. I’ve sent some pap en vleis with my letter. Mother says it has healing properties.

It doesn’t but good food has always healed any ailments I’ve had. Whether emotional or physical. Make sure you eat up! Mum hasn’t made it in years and I had to bargain quite a bit to make it happen. Ok, I didn’t have to bargain anything but the principle stands! When we see each other again, you’d better be prepared to give your assessment. 

Missing you,

Mary

*

Siri,

Potter sent a letter to Marlene. Which is great because she’s been quite difficult since your name was dragged through The Prophet. Get well soon. Marlene has been insufferable enough. I can only feed her so many puffed pastries. It’s sickening.

I admit I would miss your commentary in charms. So let’s not let me experience this boring class without your presence.

Yours,

Cas

*

 Lord Potter,

Please accept my sincere gratitude for your letter and your assurance. Sirius Black has been an exceptional student despite his, and your son’s, flagrant use of pranks. I must admit their use of magic has inspired quite a bit of admiration though I’m unallowed to say it directly. I am pleased to learn he is well despite the recent propaganda.

I shall expect them both for the upcoming term.

Sincerely,

Professor McGonagall

Head of Gryffindor

Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts School of Magic

*

Regulus,

I trust you are well. Unsettling events have occurred beyond Walburga and Sirius’ altercation. Rest assured, the issue has been addressed. My father and I will inform you both of what has transpired when Sirius is well enough.

Though I have not been to see her, your mother has been slow to recover. These updates come from my father. I would strongly urge you not to return and remain with the Potters until he deems it necessary. Frankly, with the recent events, I do not think it will be anytime soon. 

Do keep me apprised on Sirius’ progress. Our relationship may be strained due to your mother and her manipulations. You are both still, however, my sons. Ensure you take care of yourself, little prince. 

Orion Black

*

(Discarded in bin, unsent, mostly legible)

Sirius,

I am not one to experience regret. Helplessness is not a trait we Blacks carry, yet I find myself overwhelmed with regret. Ashamed. Circumstances beyond even my control have kept me away from you and Regulus for so long. I am ashamed I didn't see it coming. While your mother has broken this family, my arrogance and pride has shattered it. Your mother was always more clever than I, craftier than Cassiopeia. My rage knows know bounds, little star. Yet I know it would pale in comparison to your own, I would prostrate myself for a sliver of your forgiveness.

I have missed so much of your life.

Your father,

Orion Black

*

Cousin,

Expect my presence tomorrow.

Hadrian

Heir to The Most Noble and Ancient House of Peverell & Slytherin

Chapter Text

Sirius wakes with a whimper. His eyes flutter open to see a cream ceiling. He tries to turn his head but his body refuses to cooperate. A slight tremor wracks through him, electrifying and painful and Sirius grits his teeth, tears stinging his eyes. It’s then he notices a voice, muffled, panicked, and how tight his hands are clenched.

“Try to relax, little cabbage.” 

Only one person has ever had the audacity to address Sirius this way and Sirius hasn’t seen him in years despite him being his mother’s brother. A tear slides down his cheek and he gasps weakly, “ Tonton.”

“The very one, nephew.” Alphard’s hand squeezes his in reassurance and Sirius realizes he’s got his uncle in a death grip. He struggles to loosen it, to relax but another spasm rips through him. Sirius whimpers, grinding his teeth.

“I know. I know. Don’t fight it. Try to relax. It will pass.” 

Sirius struggles with this advice but he manages and in the end he’s sweating and panting with a steady stream of tears spilling out his eyes. Sirius slumps deeply into the bed, exhausted. His hand shakes around Alphard’s.

“Sorry.” Sirius whispers, wiping his face. He manages to take in the room he’s in. Tall windows line up in the corners with a desk tucked underneath them and a comfortable looking chair with a worn leather jacket draped across it. A haggle of trinkets litter about, books half opened and dog-eared. Sirius vaguely realizes he’s at the Potters, specifically in his unofficial room.

“Nonsense. I’m here to support you. If I must regrow the bones in my hands after, so be it.” Alphard says cheerfully. He’s just as handsome as the last time Sirius saw him but with smile lines and an obvious twinkle in his cool eyes.

Sirius manages a laugh. “I’ve missed you, old man. How did I get here?”

“I’m barely a day over 35, brat.” Alphard taps his wand to the air and shoots off a beam of white that scurries through the closed door. He moves gracefully, sitting on the edge of Sirius’ bed. Alphard pats his hand, his expression worried.

“What do you remember?”

Sirius frowns, confused, and then everything rushes back like a bludger to the head. The betrothal, mother’s rage, the desperation and vibrant panic. Sirius’ hands shake. His skin prickles at the flood of terror that roars back to life. Sirius tries to shake it off but the feeling remains and spreads. He chokes on a sob, chest seized tight with dismay. It’s a poor combination with the sudden onslaught of pain that wrestles its way through him. Alphard makes a soothing noise.

“Just breathe, Sirius. You’re safe here.” Alphard whispers in low french. His eyes flash with wounded sincerity and regret. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Sirius sniffles, crushing Alphard’s hand in quiet gratitude. It takes a desperately long time for Sirius to calm down. Shame burns hot across his face. Alphard waves it away with an admonishing look. 

“She wanted me to marry Bellatrix. We argued..” Sirius says quietly. “I thought she was going to kill me. I thought she had killed me. I… I was so scared, Alphie. I had never felt anything like it. I don’t remember her stopping.”

Alphard sighs deeply, troubled. “Regulus brought you here.”

“Is he okay?” Sirius’ stomach lurches painfully. He struggles to sit up, gritting his teeth, and Alphard hurries to assist him with a calming noise, piling pillows behind Sirius so he can remain upright.

“He’s fine. Currently hiding in his room.” Alphard assures him. “You’re both safe here. Your grandfather has been mitigating the situation… Wally is a bit unhinged currently.”

“When is she not?” Sirius slumps heavily in relief and snorts.

Alphard laughs. “When is she not?”

The door clicks closed and Sirius startles badly. A Healer has her hand on the doorknob, her lime green robes contrasting richly against her dark skin, smile small and apologetic. Euphemia stands beside her, appearing a bit frazzled with dark circles under her eyes. She sends Sirius a relieved smile, shoulders slumping a bit. Alphard moves to stand but he doesn’t release Sirius’ hand. Sirius gives him a light squeeze. 

The Healer nods to Sirius, casting a diagnostic scan. “My name is Healer Benoit, Heir Black. I have served your grandfather for many years. It’s good to see you awake.” Her voice is a pleasant sound. “You experienced severe nerve damage as well as magical core trauma. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Fuck. James always said I was as tenacious as a roach.” Sirius breathes. Euphemia smothers a laugh behind her hand. “How long have I been here?”

“A week.” Healer Benoit cocks a delicate eyebrow. “Not to worry, however. Luckily, you are quite young so your magic has started to bounce back. You’re recovering well. I did place a temporary block on your magic as you slept. I know this sounds alarming but you were unstable and… combative. It was understandable as you did not know me.” Healer Benoit clears her throat. “Rest assured, you have been stabilizing since.”

Sirius swallows thickly. “Did… Did I hurt you?”

“I stayed nearby so she could work.” Euphemia is quick to assure.

Healer Benoit tilts her head. “You are not the first to experience an accidental outburst of that magnitude though it is incredibly rare. Since your core is still healing, the block shall remain given the circumstances. Your magic is in a very delicate state and with rising emotions you’re sure to experience as you recover, I felt it best to leave it as is. Now, how are you feeling?” 

“Not great. I’m tired.” Sirius admits. “I almost broke Alphie’s hand.”

“He had a mild spasm.” Alphard informs them.

Healer Benoit nods. “As expected. You have two more doses of Nerve Regeneration that you may self-administer. It is not a pleasant taste but it is necessary. Consider yourself very lucky, Heir Black. I have shared my findings with Lord Black. In the meantime, you must rest in the meantime.”

Sirius groans, pouting. “It’s summer.”

“Would you rather be disappointed or have a permanently, broken body and no magic?” Healer Benoit replies smoothly.

Sirius gapes, vaguely insulted and delighted. Alphard chuckles.

“I thought not.” Healer Benoit smiles sweetly. “Rest. I’ll allow visitors but you must stay in bed.”

“He will.” Euphemia assures her, sending Sirius a look.

Sirius slumps in defeat. “Yes ma’am.”

“Excellent.” Healer Benoit waves her wand and three potions clatter absently on top of his nightstand. “Your Nerve Regeneration potions and a pain reliever. If the pain elevates further, alert me.” 

She passes him a small, smooth device with buttons. Sirius turns it over in his hands, amazed. Healer Benoit gently taps a button in the center and her wand vibrates noisily. A smile crosses her face when Sirius makes a noise of surprise.

“Oh, that’s brilliant.” Sirius beams.

“Muggles refer to it as a pager. It assists me with house calls.” Healer Benoit straightens, smoothing down her robes. “Now, there is a particularly furious Potter waiting downstairs, who has been denied entry. I’ll send word to Lord Black that you are awake.”

“I’ll send James up.” Euphemia hums. “Lest he accidentally shatter another set of china. Or worse, ruin my floors with his constant pacing.”

“I’ll inform Regulus then.” Alphard promises, winking at Sirius. He squeezes his hand tightly before letting go and follows the two women out of the room.

Sirius settles tiredly. He rubs at his face, ignoring the slight shake in his limbs. There’s a thud of heavy footsteps then his bedroom door swings open, revealing an indeed furious looking James Potter. James stares at him for a long moment, then a wide smile splits his face, color rushing to his cheeks. His relief is palpable. He’s dressed in ratty sweats and a t-shirt. Sirius wrinkles his nose at him. James clamors onto the chair at Sirius’ bedside with a laugh, eyes soft and dewy.

“Oi, don’t start crying.” Sirius hisses, his eyes watering instantly. “You’re going to make me cry.”

James sniffles. “I’m emotional! This was truly the worst experience of my life. Worse than when we accidentally stuck our balls to Peter’s desk and had to get Minnie involved. You have so many letters to read. Luckily, no howlers so a win in my books.”

Sirius grimaces. “Yikes. My bad.”

James glares at him. “It’s not like you asked mommy to beat you so severely that your magic exploded inside you. Regulus told me everything. Well, not me, but my parents and your gramps. It sounded fucking terrifying.”

“The healer said I damaged my core.” Sirius shakily reaches for one of the potions. “Apparently she’s blocked my magic so I’m a bit pissed. I get it but fuck. I’m already over it.”

“Sirius, I don’t think you understand how fucking scary you were.”

Sirius glares weakly at him. “Well, now, I’m a scary squib. Fuck off, Prongs. Who needs good core health anyway?”

“Don’t be mad, Padfoot. Your grandad has been pissed enough. Especially when the healer said you nearly died.” James spills his torso onto the bed, arms stretched out so he can tuck around Sirius’ legs. “I had never met Lord Black before. I see where you get your temper from.”

“Oh fuck off. I get it from my mother.” Sirius scoffs. “Pépé is always level headed.”

“You didn’t see him that night. It was wild. Then I had to deal with Hadrian the next day. Fuck, I’ll never recover. I’m traumatized.” James shakes his head, resting his chin on Sirius’ knee. He watches Sirius down his potion and laughs at the curl of disgust that follows. “I’m so glad you’re ok. I owe Regulus a life debt.”

“That’s not how that works.” Sirius chuckles, tossing the empty vial at his head. “If anything I owe him and at this point, we’re likely even.”

James allows it to bounce off with a flirty wink. “That’s fucked, Pads.”

“We’re Blacks. It’s always fucked.”

James stares absently at him, thoughts flickering across his eyes. His lips press into a thin line, wobbling a bit and Sirius finds himself unable to look away.

“I thought you were dead.” James says, pushing his glasses up to wipe his face. “You weren’t moving. There… I saw Regulus first. At the table. And I remember not even being able to process him beyond something in my brain screaming your name over and over. Dad wouldn’t even let me in the room. You were just… lying there. I could…” 

James’ voice shatters, bottom lip quivering. “His shirt was covered in blood. He just kept saying to let mom handle it but it… I couldn’t really hear him. All I could think was that I just got you back. Then your grandfather came and the healer. Dad still wouldn’t let me near you. I sat next to Regulus the entire night. We didn’t speak. It was so strange. Just sitting there with him and not knowing if you were alive.”

“Oh, Prongs. You know it takes more than ole Wally to take me out.” Sirius forces a smile and James manages a broken laugh.

They fall silent for a moment. Sunlight stretches across the room and Sirius can make out the edges of the Quidditch pitch hoops situated in the backyard. He pats the spot beside him, slouching down further into bed. James gingerly moves to lie next to him and wedges an arm behind his shoulders. Sirius curls against him, gasping quietly when his body shudders. He manages to tuck his face into James’ neck and slumps, absently watching trees sway along a summer breeze.

“Some Gryffindor I am.” James murmurs, face buried in his hair.

Sirius pats his stomach. “Still my favorite deer.”

“Your dumb deer.”

They lie there for a long moment, James drawing little patterns along his lower back. Sirius hadn’t realized he fell asleep until he stirs, a soft conversation filtering in and out of his thoughts beckoning him into alertness. He’s still pressed against James, whose body is slack beneath his, low snores escaping with each steady rise and fall of his chest. Sirius blinks drowsily, noticing the sky glowing orange and yellow with the setting sun. He manages to shift, earning a low grumble of protest but James doesn’t wake, glasses tucked on his forehead. Sirius shuffles onto his other side and James goes with him, arm slung across his waist.

Two sets of eyes, smooth silver and emerald green, are on him instantly and it unnerves him a bit. Hadrian and Regulus are both sitting by the bed, a plate of scones floating between them. His little brother looks comically put together in a rich black collared shirt and slim trousers but the entire ensemble is thrown by the exceptionally soft looking bunny slippers. Sirius pointedly does not laugh. His shoulders tremble with effort even as weariness threatens to drag him back under. Regulus glares at him, weak and relieved.

“Glad to see you’re well enough.” Hadrian hums pleasantly, crossing one leg over the other. He’s in a soft-looking, tight deep green turtleneck with inlays of silver woven throughout. A fine chain dangles from his neck with a peculiar triangle shape attached to the end that matches the elegant gold watch adorning his wrist. His heir ring sparkles, paired with a familiar solid silver snake cuff looped around his ring finger.

“Sorry if I’m underdressed for this meeting. I had a rough day.” Sirius says tiredly.

“You’re always underdressed.” Regulus retorts, plucking a scone. He passes it to Sirius, eyes narrowing as his brother’s hand shakes when he reaches for it. “I thought they said most of it passed.”

“Lingering effects. It should pass in a few days.” Hadrian assures him. “He still has his senses. Which is grand as he doesn't have much to begin with.”

“It would be a shame if he lost what he had left.” Regulus agrees easily.

“Oh. I don’t approve of this relationship at all.” Sirius whines. “If this is what I can expect, you are both welcome to leave.”

“No.” They say in unison.

Sirius huffs, shuffling back against James. He eats the scone slowly. It's lavender and lemon and it’s delicious. Sirius makes a happy noise and reaches for another. Hadrian’s eyes light up with amusement.

“Kee sends her well wishes.” Hadrian tells him.

“I love that elf.” Sirius sighs. “Almost as much as I love Mipsy.”

“Yes, well. Have some more.” Regulus sniffs, passing the plate over. “I’ll ask Mrs. Potter to have something brought up. You’re likely hungry with all your maiden dramatics.”

Sirius tries to wave him off but Regulus sends him a scathing glower and promptly leaves. He doesn’t slam the door behind him but it’s a close thing. James mutters sleepily, pressing his head between Sirius’ shoulder blades.

“He doesn't know how else to help.” Hadrian says quietly, eyes flickering over Sirius quick and assessing. He taps his knee with his index finger. “I’m sure he blames himself.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“Yes, well. If your situations were reversed, I’m sure you’d be in a similar state. Likely worse due to your… personality.”

Sirius doesn’t argue. It’s true, he would. The knowledge itself that Regulus was hurt and he couldn’t do anything to stop it would’ve warred inside him until he did something foolish. James makes a sleepy noise behind him. His relationships between his brothers were so different and yet equally volatile. Sirius props himself on his elbow with a frown, a slight tremor working through his legs. It’s not as agonizing as before. He starts when Hadrian presses a pain potion into his hands. 

“Don’t argue.” Hadrian says curtly. “Drink it.”

Sirius obeys. He winces as it slides down his throat, bitter and pungent. Hadrian takes the empty vial from him and vanishes it absently. He settles beside Sirius, back hovering near the bed frame, hands fisted in his lap. His gaze darkens, a bit lost, distant. Sirius can see a small, dark aura of magic fighting from spilling out.

“I’m glad you’re awake.” Hadrian admits, his voice trembling. “I arrived that night, you know. I felt you. I admit I was nervous to see you off with your cunt of a mother. That’s what the watch was for. It’s similar to what wizards use for their children. Tracking their magic. I felt it shatter as if it absorbed too much too quickly. I can’t even remember what I was doing at the moment my wards off. My father would’ve laughed at my response in any other situation. It was…. childish. I wasn’t even properly dressed. I just went straight to your house.”

Hadrian holds up his hand when Sirius moves to speak. “You don’t understand. I went to your house. I didn’t have to venture inside to know the damage. The wards were the only thing holding it together. The outside was shattered completely. The Aurors were already there. Even the fucking Prophet. Your house elf must’ve sensed me because he showed up just as I arrived, which is just as well. I was quite murderous so it truly is a miracle I even spoke with him. I thought I was too late. I have never felt such hopeless anger until that moment. Then he said you were safe and Regulus was with you. All I could think was why couldn’t I have been faster.”

“I’m not often… unnerved. But I was.” Hadrian’s hands curl into tight fists. “I could feel you everywhere. Your magic in the air. On the very grounds. It was devastating. It was so fractured but there was still so much lingering. Too much. It smelt like death. All I had to go off was from your damn house elf telling me you were safe.” Hadrian swallows audibly. 

“Then I received a letter from James the next day. I’ve met Lord and Lady Potter numerous times before. Still I wasn’t expecting them to be so gracious when I obliterated their sitting room despite us being family. I was furious when I arrived. I’m still furious.” Hadrian breathes, a thick plume of smoke leaves his nose.

Sirius tentatively lays a hand on Hadrian’s closed fist, feeling the gentle sting of blistering magic bubbling beneath the surface. Hadrian doesn’t look at him, staring distractedly ahead. He exhales slowly, slouching a bit, and shakily takes Sirius’ hand in his own. Hadrian intertwines their fingers, fixing his expression into an impassive mask. The aura around him smothers itself completely. Sirius has never seen him quite so disoriented. He manages to get upright, much to James’ slurred protests and his own disapproving limbs.

Sirius tucks into Hadrian’s side and lays his head on his shoulder. He doesn’t usually appreciate reassurance with touch, rarely offers it, unless it was James, but there’s something inexplicably familiar about Hadrian next to him. It could be their shared moments with Kee, their moments alone, their moments with Boo or out on the lawn between classes. It could be Hadrian’s quiet support throughout the last few months of term. It could be anything and everything but in this moment, it doesn’t quite matter. Hadrian shudders against him, fingers tightening over his and rests his head on top of Sirius’.

“These months have been so hard on you.” Hadrian bites out. “And I hate it.”

“It’s not maman’s fault that I’m a shit. I’m known to make nuns swear.”

Hadrian makes a displeased noise. “You are too forgiving. How many more excuses will you continue to make for others?”

Sirius doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t respond. The silence around them feels charged and terrible for a moment. Hadrian sighs heavily, frustrated, concerned. He squeezes Sirius’ hand. Sirius weakly, shakily, squeezes back, watching the flash of fury that ripples through him, the subtle pictures hanging on the walls of his bedroom trembling. Hadrian inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and a spark of brittle magic erupts from their held hands. Sirius presses into him, worried, and Hadrian sags with a weary sigh.

“I apologize. My shields have not been the best this past week.” Hadrian rubs his face harshly.

“More contained than I was apparently.” Sirius says softly. “Can’t believe you were tracking me. I’m not a baby. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d beat the shit out of you.”

“You’d lose.” Hadrian responds after a moment, just as soft.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Sirius asks, wondering how managed to inspire such loyalty and emotion from such a normally stoic person. “Surely you have less complicated friendships.”

Hadrian scoffs. ”I truly don’t know. All you do is cause me stress and whine about the layers in pastries.”

Sirius laughs tiredly. “You’re such a dick. Sorry for worrying you.”

Hadrian runs his thumb over Sirius’ fingers. “That doesn’t matter. You’re here. Everything else is secondary.”

“I think I’m going to pass out.” Sirius says, shaking a bit with a new spasm. He presses his forehead hard into Hadrian’s collarbone and tries to breathe. Hadrian settles beside him, sturdy and warm and releases his hand to wrap his arm around his waist, just above James’. Sirius’ head lolls a bit, eyelids drooping. He settles into Hadrian’s chest feeling a bit like a hollowed out doll. He’s already tired of feeling tired. Wisps of Hadrian’s magic brush along his skin, incredibly soothing and delightful and Sirius fights to stay alert.

“Will you stay?” He slurs.

Hadrian’s chest rumbles with his response. “As if I’d be anywhere else.”

Chapter Text

Sirius brushes his teeth drowsily, his eyelids drooping a bit as paste dribbles down his chin. Healer Benoit said he was doing well but it certainly didn’t feel like it. He tires easily, he isn’t hungry, and his magic is still an erratic meld of something tarry and awful and Healer Benoit refuses to let him use it. Then there’s the mind healing. 

God, if he sees his mother anytime soon, he may just do something dramatic like set her on fire or scalp her for the grief she’s caused him. He can’t even become Padfoot. Sirius huffs, indignant, and rinses his mouth out. His father will be joining his grandfather at Potter Manor, which is increasingly bizarre because Sirius truly cannot remember the last time he saw him.

Maman usually kept them apart, saying Orion was useless when it came to handling wayward children especially since Sirius seemed to need constant correction. And maybe she was right. All of Sirius’ memories of him had been mostly pleasant. His father was a stern man, dismissive at worst, but Sirius distinctly remembers his father sitting on his bed the day before he left for Hogwarts and they discussed the future sorting. Orion didn’t seem to expect him to be in Slytherin.

“ I could see you in any house but I do not think Slytherin is the place for you. You are reckless, daring and it will only get worse as you grow. This is not necessarily a disappointment. You have a cunning to you, Sirius. It’s tucked away, carefully hidden, but I have always watched you, little star. You’re a pending supernova presenting yourself as a simple planet.”

His father had sent him a simple letter after his sorting, filled with quiet acceptance and a reminder of where his loyalties lie. His mother had sent a howler that wheezed for several seconds before she exploded. Bitter cow, Sirius thinks, wandering into his bedroom. He considers wearing the most outrageous and scandalous outfit he has but Pépé would give him that look and well, for some reason he doesn’t want to disappoint the old man. If it wasn’t for Mipsy and Ophelia banding together, Sirius doesn’t think he’d have anything to wear at all. Thank fuck Kreacher wasn’t involved or else he’d resemble Regulus, brooding and stony like a little gargoyle. 

Fuck, he doesn’t want to wear robes. Pépé's taste was so dramatic. Sirius slumps on his bed, staring at his closet door with trepidation. He rubs his eyes, resisting the urge to whimper and hide under his bed. Sirius hates how weak he feels, that he needs to take Nutrient Potions like a damn child because he just didn’t want anything. Mipsy was incredibly offended by this revelation and her worry was visible every time Sirius excused himself from the table. He’s exhausted and irritable and he’s tired of being both.

There’s a sharp pop and the air seems to leave with its arrival. Sirius shudders, unsettled, and drags his hands away to see a house elf before him. Its skin is almost a translucent gray, eyes a deep black that seems to absorb the light that filters into the room. There are several silver rings pierced along its ears. It bows to him low and polite, the fine, dark fabric of its tunic dipping against the floor. It’s adorned with tiny, silver skulls. A beautifully wrapped box is settled in its arms.

“Greetings, Master Black. I am Nyx, faithful servant to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Peverell. You are familiar with my young master, Hadrian.” Nyx’s voice is deep, smooth tenor. His smile is calming and eerily serene.

“Uhm, yes. Nice to meet you.” Sirius manages, confused. Hadrian had never mentioned a house elf but Sirius doesn’t necessarily bring up Kreacher in conversations.

Nyx appears amused. “The pleasure is mine, Master Black. I have come bearing a gift from my young master. He is currently indisposed due to the nature of our family. I’m sure you understand.”

Sirius, in fact, does not but he nods anyway. “Oh, thank you.”

Nyx snaps his fingers and the box delicately drifts to settle beside Sirius on the bed. He dips low again, his voice incredibly sincere when he says, “Until we meet again, Master Black. Know that the House of Death is at your disposal.”

“Wait.” Sirius says suddenly then blushes. “Will.. Will I see him soon?”

Nyx chitters, it’s unnerving, his smile warm. “Of course, Master Black.”

With that, Nyx pops away and the air returns to normal. Sirius considers dwelling on what just happened but he’s drained and Hadrian sent him a gift and he got to meet the most human, if not creepy, house elf ever. It’s already been a day so Sirius tucks his reservations for future Sirius to worry about. He unwraps the box in sluggish movements. There is a letter settled on top of a neatly wrapped bundle with a simple ‘Sirius’ written on the front in a familiar, neat scrawl. He opens it, collapsing onto his side.

Maus,

I trust this to keep you warm. I’m sure Nyx gave you a small fright. I’ll have to ask him for the memory.

Always,

Hadrian

The parchment smells vaguely of Hadrian’s cologne and charcoal. Sirius presses the letter to his nose and inhales deeply. God, no wonder I’m in therapy, he thinks, stomach fluttering. Sirius sets it to the side, staring at his ceiling for a long moment before dragging himself upright. His hair droops sadly in his bun, still damp and heavy. He drags the box to him, parting the silk wrapping, and blinks slowly. It’s a robe. Sirius pulls it out, marveling how light and fluttery it is in his hands. It’s a shimmering midnight blue that seems to glisten like a clear, starry night. A silvery-blue silk caresses the inner lining.

“What a bastard.” Sirius says, pulling it to his chest. He feels touched. “Mipsy.”

Mipsy appears before him with a soft pop, her eyes wide and cheerful. “Young Sirius calls Mipsy?”

“Hi Mip,” He greets her. “Any chance I can get a pepper up? I feel like shit.”

Mipsy’s face twists with concern but she dutifully brings him the potion and watches him down it quickly. Her little hands twist her tea towel. “I fetch Mistress?”

Sirius waves her off, forcing a smile. His skin doesn’t feel as tight on his body. “No need. I’m just tired. Wanna help me pick out an outfit to go with this?” He holds up the robe.

Mipsy brightens, clapping her hands fiercely. “Oooh, yes! Mipsy helps!”

Sirius laughs, easily swept into her good cheer. She brings him a series of options and colors and it’s all a bit too much but Mipsy chatters animatedly the entire time, her worry forgotten momentarily. Sirius finds himself in a silky black button up tucked into a pair of tight charcoal trousers. He sits on the floor, cross legged, as Mipsy neatly braids his hair back. There’s a jingle of tiny rings interwoven throughout as well as a thin silver cord tied at the end. When she’s done, she drapes a series of silver necklaces around his neck.

“Young Sirius so handsome!” Mipsy coos, bringing him a pair of boots. “The most handsome! Don’t tell Master James.”

Sirius laughs, pulling his robe on. “I will die with this information.”

Mipsy scowls at him, hands on her hips. “Poor taste, young Sirius.”

“Yes, Mip.” Sirius hums dutifully. “Have my grandfather and father arrived yet?”

Mipsy nods quickly. “Yes. They be with young Black! They in the East Wing.”

“Let’s get this over with.” Sirius mutters, gathering himself. “Would you mind popping me down there? If I go alone, I may get lost and just decide to run away.”

Mipsy’s eyes bulge comically and she grabs Sirius hand. Sirius lands just outside, the doors shut firmly before him, but raised voices come from inside. It sounds distantly like a heated debate and Sirius is vaguely confused that no one thought to put up a silencing charm. He recognizes his father’s deep baritone easily, all heavy command and booming. Sirius braces himself, skin prickling with nerves. He slips inside quietly, seemingly unnoticed.

Regulus sits off to the side, looking closed off and small, hands fisted tight in his lap. His skin is pale, mouth twisted into a sullen frown. His grandfather stands in front of Sirius, his back to the door. His father is diagonal from him, expression twisted in an uncharacteristic display of fury.

“Control yourself.” Pépé hisses sharply.

“Do not give me that.” Orion snaps, lights flickering around them. “How has your retirement been, father? Two years are missing from my mind. Where were you? Walburga has officially lost the goddamn plot. Endangering my sons. One of them possibly becoming a-”

“Sirius would never suppress his magic.” Regulus pipes in hurriedly, his expression troubled.

“Enough, Orion.” His grandfather snarls.

“Sirius could’ve killed him! Or himself!” Orion shouts, hands fisted at his sides. “You may not have felt it, father, but I did. That.. that feeling. I can’t begin to describe the power I felt through the family magic. It was searching as Pollux told you. As bitter as I am that my own son would possibly fear me, I am gratified he didn’t see me as a threat then despite my absence . Irma is still bedridden!”

“The situation is being handled.” Pépé says brusquely but Sirius can hear his uneasiness. It is a testament to how rattled the family must be feeling if his father, always so put together, so emotionless and distant, is emoting freely. Sirius knows what situation they’re referring to but his mind lingers on the tidbit about his father’s memory and struggles to wonder if there was anything different about the last few years but Orion simply just wasn’t there.

Orion bristles, turning fully to face him, and color drains from his face when he notices Sirius standing by the door. It has truly been too long since Sirius has seen his father. He’s still tall, well built with a handsome face that easily matches Regulus’ own. But Sirius has his silver eyes, the slope of his forehead, the wild texture of his hair, his ears while the rest is all Walburga. 

“Sirius.” Orion breathes and there’s so much raw emotion in his voice that Sirius’ heart aches. His father’s expression shutters, grief, fury, longing, regret and it’s laid bare and present until his father tucks it all behind an occlumency shield. 

Pépé whirrs around, bright eyes alight with fury and relief. He straightens, his elegant, ebony cane propped under one hand and visibly pushes down his rage. The air bristles with the remnants of their anger. Sirius gathers himself, swallowing down a tremor and he will not cower. He dips low at the waist, forcing a cocky smile as he lifts.

“Pépé. Papa. Little brother.” He greets smoothly, tilting his head. 

His grandfather’s gaze softens, “I am glad to see your recovery has gone well. And that you have developed a sense of decorum.”

Sirius grins easily. “Hadrian sent me a gift. You can thank him for my lack of muggle jeans and fishnets.”

“I will owl him my gratitude immediately.” Pépé sighs heavily, but his approval is evident, gesturing to the empty spot beside Regulus on a long, rich brown couch. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

Sirius obeys, settling gracefully beside his brother. He’s rarely been to the East Wing, let alone the sitting room. It remains devoid of family portraits with large, leaded windows that overlook an expansive garden. The walls are adorned with wood paneling in a deep mahogany. A series of shelves line each wall, packed full of old, leather bound books. His eye catches a golden snitch on top of the fireplace mantle, completely out of place. Next to it is a small wooden dog. His chest settles with warmth. That dumb deer.

Orion takes a seat across from then, folding one long leg over the other, his eyes darkening as he assesses them both. Pépé settles in an armchair directly in the center and taps his cane. A flood of magic spreads along the room. Orion continues to study both Regulus and Sirius with greedy curiosity. He nods minutely as if his findings are satisfying. Regulus catches Sirius’ eye, a spark of confusion shared between them.

“Lord Potter was gracious enough to host our meeting today. I shall dally no further.” Pépé says, raising his chin. “We are here to address your mother. Walburga has been bound to your childhood home. This is not by my doing but yours,” He tilts his head to Sirius. “Her magic, well, what is left of it, has also been bound to the house. I had attempted to relocate her to a more suitable location. It was unsuccessful. If she attempts to leave, she will most likely perish.”

Regulus inhales sharply, fingers white knuckled in his lap. 

“Fuck.” Sirius whispers quietly, feeling ill. “Will it return?”

Pépé shakes his head. “It remains permanent. Healer Benoit suspects this is a reason why your core has taken much longer than estimated to recover fully. It has been making room.”

“Sirius took her magic?” Regulus asks quickly, eyes widening. Sirius forces himself to remain silent or he may just throw up all over the Potter’s floor.

“To put it simply, yes. While the circumstances are… complicated, I admit I find myself gratified as I am certain she would have impeded Kreacher’s assistance. Physically.” Pépé clears his throat delicately. Regulus looks wounded.

“How did he manage that?” Regulus asks quietly. “Only the lord of the house has such capabilities.”

-

Pépé tilts his head thoughtfully but it’s Orion who speaks up, “It is a rare occurrence. There was a similar incident in the early 1600s. However, the result was devastating. The heir at the time was a boy named Cepheus. His father was a drunk. With a certain taste for his young son.”

Sirius’ stomach twists in discomfort, mouth set in a grimace as Regulus shuffles his hands in his lap.

“Cepheus was only the heir because he was the only son available. Most of the family were producing daughters at the time. Based on the notes surrounding this time, Cepheus’ father felt if Cepheus had no magic, the family would accept one of the daughters as an heir instead. Preposterous as we are a Patriarchy, but he didn’t care. He wanted the boy to continue to warm his bed and continued using many methods to snuff his son’s magic. It came to a climax when Cepheus fell in love with a muggle girl from the village.” Orion sighs, crossing his legs.

“An already shameful ordeal but to bring a muggle into it.” Orion shakes his head, his distaste evident. “His father found out, of course. Used her in a hunting party with his companions and made Cepheus watch. The conversation was not recorded but the after effects were . Cepheus destroyed his father. Rendered him to mere atoms. In the outlash, he also killed the girl he loved and those in the surrounding area. There are letters dated around that time from members who said to have felt the occurrence. They also remarked on Cepheus’ sudden influx of magic. There was speculation that he had taken his father’s magic when he killed him due to how his own magical signature kept changing. His core never recovered. Cepheus remained unstable until his death a year later. He is the only known member of the House of Black to become an obscurial.”

-

“Shit.” Sirius swears, heart beating wildly in his chest. “Shit.” 

“Calm, étoile.” His grandfather urges fiercely. “That was only a similar occurrence. From my understanding of Cepheus' tale, there are many factors which differ from your situation with Walburga. I doubt such a prideful woman would ever attempt to detain your magic or rid you of it. Accidental magic is not new to the House of Black, as you know, but an heir being able to bypass the lord of house completely is. It is virtually unheard of. Cepheus was the first. You are the second. You have always been an exceptional example of demanding magic. I am not surprised. Your current progress is hopeful.”

Sirius can understand that. He’s not stupid but it brings a level of severity to the entire situation Sirius hadn’t even been aware of. He understands his father’s anger now. Fear swells up inside him, hot and biting. He could’ve killed his mother or Regulus. What about when he arrived at the Potters? Healer Benoit said he was combative . His grandmother is apparently bedridden due to him. His mother is bound to their fucking house and he took a piece of her away. A piece that lays inside him. No wonder his shit is so cracked and feels so damn awful.

Sirius leans forward, hands folded over his face and struggles to breathe, guilt pressing hard into his spine. You will not cry here, he hisses at himself. Sirius forces himself to breathe, shaking with effort and presses his emotion down sharply. He lifts, a mask of indifference perfectly in place, and tilts his head in apology. His chest feels so tight it might explode. Both his father and grandfather appear incredibly pleased, boasting in quiet pride. Regulus subtly presses his knee to Sirius’.

Pépé nods but his eyes are ponderous, knowing, “I have my own suspicions but I will refrain from sharing until I know more. While going back to the topic of your mother, Walburga’s marriage to your father has been annulled. Blacks marry for duty, as you both know, but our clauses are clear. However, she is lucky to still carry our name. Do you know where your father was on the night you left for the Potters?”

“I hadn’t seen him at all.” Sirius admits. “I actually don’t remember the last time I saw papa.”

Regulus shakes his head. “Maman said he’s been ill and refused to see any of us but her. I didn’t question it.”

Sirius snorts softly. “And get fucked up? No, I doubt you did.”

Regulus sends him a suffering look.

“Cassiopeia found him working as a farm hand in rural France. She only found him because of Sirius’ outburst and Orion’s answering magic. It seemed to have broken the charms that had been placed. I’m sure you are aware that your aunt is the only living Black currently residing in our homeland. She was quite shocked. I was immediately informed, which is why I hadn’t returned to Potter Manor the next day. His memories had been heavily modified.”

“I thought you had written to him towards the end of term?” Sirius asks, confused because he remembers his grandfather mentioning he asked about Sirius and his father had no information. “Wait. A farmhand? My father?”

Orion clears his throat softly. “My sentiments exactly. Any correspondence either of you received was not sent by my hand. I imagine Walburga intercepted a lot or just wrote on my behalf.”

“That’s likely how she knew you were in contact with grandfather.” Regulus says, swaying a bit. “That’s why she never mentioned who told her in her letters.”

“Yeah. That makes more sense actually. I literally hadn’t told anyone and no one recognized Pépé's devil bird except you and Hadrian.” Sirius nods in agreement. “No wonder she was so pissy.”

“Ah. So she did send you letters posing as me?” Orion inquiries, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“Oh, not me. Just Reg, I suppose. I just thought you didn’t want to speak to me. Whenever I was home, I’d never see you.” Sirius murmurs, smoothing a hand over his thigh. “Maman said you didn’t deign to interact with disappointments since I needed a heavier hand for the shame I’ve brought our family and Regulus was your preferred and only son.”

A vase shatters nearby, Orion’s expression stony and furious. Pépé, politely, does not comment, but his eyes blaze, a bit crazed and frenzied. He flicks his hand and the vase fixes itself fluidly.

“Did Kreacher know?” Regulus asks softly, uncomfortable.

Pépé tilts his head. “That will be addressed now. Orion is the lord of your home. The wards would’ve ripped down any manipulations, charms, or blocks on a Black’s mind as they are meant to do. The idea that Kreacher could not have known Orion has not resided in Grimmauld for some time gives me great pause. Know this, Regulus, I am only allowing a conversation due to the nature of your relationship with the elf. Otherwise, I’d have his head already. Kreacher!”

Regulus swallows thickly and manages a curt nod, his hands quiver in his lap. Sirius’ heart clenches in sympathy. He didn’t like Kreacher, thought he was a miserable bastard but Regulus held such a soft spot for him. There’s a soft pop. Kreacher appears, haggard and miserable. He visibly brightens upon seeing Regulus but once he registers the others in the room, his eyes grow wide and the tip of his nose quivers.

“Kreacher, I’m sure you can gather why you’re here today.” Pépé says smoothly. “Now, tell me, Kreacher, what was your role in Walburga’s plot to rid Grimmauld of Orion?”

Kreacher sniffles wetly. “Mistress did not tell Kreacher of plans. Kreacher was forbidden to seek out Master Orion.”

“Did you notice him missing during the past two years?”

Kreacher nods sullenly. “Mistress tells Kreacher Master Orion went away due to disappointment. Master Orion not to return while disappointment lived. Mistress tells Kreacher disappointment will become the new lord of house once Mistress fixes him…” He releases a low sob.

“Disappointment?” His father frowns deeply but his eyes flicker to Sirius. “How long has she been planning this?”

Kreacher hiccups. “Kreacher does not know!” 

Pépé looks at him sternly. “What do you know then, Kreacher?”

“Mistress be talking to Master Cygnus. Master Cygnus be bringing Mistress fertility potions. She be taking them.” Kreacher weeps quietly. “Kreacher did not know why. Master Orion was gone.”

Sirius gags while Kreacher speaks, his stomach lurching sourly as he braces himself on his knees. His mind is whirring, sharp and ugly and he truly doesn’t know what to think. Regulus leans against him, his skin clammy, eyes pinched shut.

“What else, Kreacher?” Orion prompts, mouth drawn into a thin line.

“Master Regulus is loved by Mistress. But Mistress be hurting Master Regulus only when disappointment is around. Kreacher tried to help Master Regulus. Kreacher couldn’t! Disappointment bewitched Mistress. Master Regulus is a good Black! But,” Kreacher cries shrilly, thick tears dripping down his snout. “Mistress never asked Kreacher to check on him. Only disappointment. Mistress would rest in disappointment’s room when he at Hogwarts. Mistress would cry that disappointment is breaking her heart. That disappointment would come back to her. Sometimes Mistress would potion disappointment’s food and lie down beside hi-”

“Stop.” Sirius interrupts quickly, bile wedged in his throat. “Fucking stop.” 

Kreacher’s jaw snaps shut, startling everyone in the room, and he continues to weep silently where he stands. Orion sends him a considering look and Pépé's eyes turn calculating. Sirius staggers to his feet, pushing his hands into his hair. He stares at the little dog and snitch for a long time, listening to the quiet breathing of his family, his own erratic heartbeat. What a fucking mess, Sirius thinks. She’s my mother and she hates me. Sirius doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand and-

“I don’t want to see her again.” Sirius says aloud. He slumps back on the couch, feeling like he’s on his last leg, like he’s fractured so splendidly that he’d never come back together. She’s my mother and she hates me and this, this knowledge, this admission, Sirius wants no part of it. He thinks of Euphemia, her sunshine smile and hazel eyes, the little flecks of white in her hair, how she asks him if he’d prefer “lemonade or tea, sweetheart? If you pick tea, I’ll break out the whiskey. Don’t tell Monty,” and she’d wink at him after and ruffle his hair and she is a mother. Sirius thinks Effie would die long before she ever even got close to touching James the way Walburga touched Sirius.

“Done.” Orion says simply, waving his hand. Pépé nods in silent agreement. “Would you like her head?”

Fucking yes, Sirius wants to say. He wants her neck between his teeth, wants to shake her like a rodent and feel life spill out of her. Sirius takes a trembling breath, gaze dragging back to the snitch, the little dog. He wonders what James would say if he knew these thoughts. Sirius roughly rubs his face, struggling to keep a lid on himself. He’s taken a part of her and there is no greater shame than that. Sirius wants her stuck inside that awful house with no way of leaving, with nothing but ghosts of her children and her husband, alone and forgotten. “Not yet.”

Orion tilts his head in acknowledgement. 

Sirius rubs his temples. “What will happen to Kreacher?”

Regulus stiffens beside him but he doesn’t speak. His mouth twists and trembles. He does not look up from his lap. Sirius doesn’t think he responded this strongly when discussing their mother.

Pépé taps his cane lazily, meeting Sirius’ gaze. “That is your decision, étoile.”

“I don’t think that should be my call.” Sirius responds, uneasy.

Pépé does not yield. “It is your decision.”

It feels like a test, another one. I’m too close. I’m too close, Sirius wants to say. He privately admits he’s wanted Kreacher dead for so long, every caning that ended with his long nose sneering hatefully down on him, his mouth quiet whenever Walburga raised a hand to Sirius but always open when it was Regulus, his constant malignant commentary. Was Sirius not a child as well? Had he not bled enough by simply existing?

Regulus is so still beside him that Sirius would honestly believe he simply died. And maybe this would be the straw that breaks them apart. Was it worth it? Was it worth it when he got one over on Snape? Yes, a part of himself hisses so viciously it makes his temples throb. Sirius shakes himself, nostrils flaring.

No. It lacked satisfaction. It brought too much grief and yielded no results, Sirius thinks distantly. No, he thinks angrily, fist clenched on his lap, staring down Kreacher as he cowers before them, his eyes flickering amongst them like a light going out. He meets Sirius’ eyes, pleading and weak. Sirius burns brightly with fury, wants this little troll writhing under his hands until he shatters because how fucking dare he look at him like that when he was never given a sliver of that courtesy?  

Regulus releases a quiet, trembling whisper of a breath.

Sirius wants Kreacher dead, dead and rotting and milled into nothing.

But he loves Regulus more. 

“You’ll go to Regulus.” Sirius states and Regulus startles beside him. Sirius holds Kreacher’s gaze, revealing every ounce of murderous intent. He smiles, just a little, sickeningly sweet and wolfish and Kreacher gulps audibly. 

“You may be Regulus’ elf but you will answer to no one but me. Keep your enlightening commentary, I don’t really care. You will never see another member of the Black family outside of us four.” Sirius leans forward in his seat, head tilted dangerously. “However, if I have an inkling of suspicion or a whisper of suggestion that you move against this family, against me, I will feed you to death myself.”

There’s a low snap that reverberates through the air and Pépé nods with finality. There’s a glimmer of dark satisfaction in his eyes. Kreacher collapses with a silent wail, his tiny hands pressed together in thankful relief. Sirius flicks his fingers, dismissive and he already has regrets but Regulus’ shaking hand squeezing his is a soothing replacement. Sirius squeezes back.

“Please tell me that the Bellatrix betrothal is a hoax. I may just kill myself and her.” Sirius says.

Pépé smirks. “Ah, yes. I imagined your response upon finding out. I don’t know why they had assumed such a match would be beneficial. Bellatrix is… She would not handle you well. You would not tolerate her, even for duty. I’m sure the first year I’d simply see you in Azkaban for murdering your wife. Any betrothal that does not come from myself and, by extension, Orion is faulty. No, étoile, I have someone else in mind.”

Sirius balks. “What? Who?”

Pépé sniffs, “I didn’t catch what you said. Forgive an old man’s hearing. In other news, Orion will remain at Black Manor. Rooms are also being prepared for you both. Kreacher, now, has his duties. Ophelia is currently ensuring Walburga is taken care of as I would trust no other and she has inherited Melania’s mean streak. Yes, Ophelia has enjoyed, forgive my crassness, taking her pound of flesh.”

Orion’s lips twitch minutely. 

Pépé rises smoothly to his feet, his eyes chilly. “I must apologize for the experience brought about since my retirement. Melania’s wading illness then subsequent passing had me sufficiently distracted. However, there is no excuse for my lack of commitment to our family. Melania would not accept it. You three have borne the brunt of such a burden. Weakness begets regret. Neither is welcome in the House of Black. While I have no desire to frolic amongst the mess that is our government, it is my duty as your head of house.”

Pépé levels Sirius with a look, vaguely delighted. “However. There’s also the delightful thrill of dangling the prospect of my heir’s hand before those eager, promising suitors and the esteemed members of the Sacred 28.”

Sirius sniffles, desperate to turn the attention anywhere else. “What about Regulus? He’s cute . Handsome. Charming when he’s not bitching. Literally has the cutest bedhead I’ve ever seen. Currently, 2nd in his year even if he is a complete swot and hopeless at charms but somehow good at arithmancy. Fantastic at-”

“Please stop.” Regulus hisses, cheeks bright red.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Someone has to gas you up. Who better than me? Your brother, who loves you.”

“I’m sure there will be those willing to deal with such caveats in exchange for these boastful qualities. Yes, I think your 16th birthday will be quite profitable as well, grandson.” Pépé nods seriously, eyes glinting deviously, and Regulus nearly turtles into his robes in embarrassment. Sirius barks out a laugh, thrilled to have a partner in teasing his little brother. Orion watches the exchange with a forlorn expression. Sirius’ chest tightens. He can’t begin to imagine losing two years of his life and returning with everything changed.

When they move to leave, Orion gracefully intercepts him. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

“Sure, sure.” Sirius replies.

Pépé guides Regulus out of the sitting room, casting one final look before the doors close firmly behind them. Orion stands before Sirius, studying him, his eyes a bit glossy turning the silver into almost mercury. 

“ I spoke with Regulus earlier. You have grown. You both have. I have missed so much.” Orion says, his french as smooth and velvet as it was when Sirius was a child. His voice is bitter with grief. “I know I wasn’t a very present father, especially with how easily you accepted my absence. I find myself chagrined, regretful. Perhaps I should have been louder so you would have never had to speculate where you fall in my life. That blame lies with me. I have always watched you, Sirius Orion. Your excitement, your joy, even your anger. I took it for granted and now I have lost 2 years of your life. Your mother hated how much you resemble me, how much that attitude of yours charmed me, almost as much she hated the better parts you took from us both.”

Orion runs a hand along a lapel of his robes. “She wanted Regulus to be my father’s heir. Argued for it. She thought it would endear you less to me. However, heir or not, you are still my son, little star. Do you want to know why I know the story of Cepheus?”

“Yes, father.” Sirius answers but dread weighs heavy in his gut.

“ Because of how your mother looks at you, Sirius. It isn’t a common tale in our family despite how disastrous the event was. I feel we tuck shameful things away purposefully yet openly breed within ourselves. Your mother was very different when I married her.” Orion meets his gaze steadily. “ When you were born, she changed. Became obsessive with you. I simply thought it was a womanly response to bringing life into the world. I was wrong. When Regulus was born, she became worse. I have not protected you as I should. For that I ask for your forgiveness.”

What a fucking mess, Sirius thinks. “ It’s not your fault-”

“It is.” Orion smiles, slow and full of agony. “It is, utterly and completely. It is a father’s duty to protect his child. Walburga will not touch you again, Sirius Orion.”

Sirius shifts his weight, feeling vulnerable, like the faintest wind will unravel him completely. “Thank you.”

Orion dismisses his words easily. “This is the bare minimum. Anything less is simply an insult. Remember that. The day I lay her head at your feet, I hope to have proven what you mean to me. I hoped to have earned the forgiveness you’d so willingly give.”

“Papa…” Sirius inhales sharply, his soul singing with sick elation. He smiles, cheeky and warm. “ I’ll be sure to have a nice perch for it to rest on.”

“Perhaps a straw box instead.” Orion smirks and at long last, his eyes brighten. 

Sirius hums thoughtfully. “Something muggle made since it would gall her so much.”

For the first time, in what feels like forever, in what probably is forever, Sirius has the privilege of hearing his father’s dark, booming laughter.

Chapter Text

“I just think it’s weird how quick you were to forgive him.” James says, tossing a snitch into the air and catching it. He sits on the floor in Sirius’ room, his back pressed to Sirius’. The knobs on their spines dig into one another. Sirius hums to show he’s listening but his mind feels farther away than ever. He’s exhausted and feels so pulled thin that he might be one conversation from snapping. It was heavy enough to speak about it with his mind healer, Anisa, but to talk about it with James? Again?

“You don’t have to, you know?” James continues easily, seemingly unaware of Sirius’ demure attitude. “I get that he was technically gone for two years but it’s not like he showed any interest in you before.”

“He has.” Sirius replies, staring at a spot between his legs. There's a slight chip in the wood, likely from age, but it’s long and splintering. Sirius drags his nail over it. A piece snags on his skin. “I don’t tell you every conversation I’ve ever had with my family. Papa didn’t expect my forgiveness. He said he’s going to earn it.”

“Oh?” James presses back against him. “How so? Because from what I remember is that your family is filled with a bunch of cunts. Has been for a while.”

Sirius sighs heavily. “If you truly think that, you wouldn’t be so nice to Reg or ask me about how my grandfather is. You care because it’s my dad. Why?”

“Because he was fucking there, Sirius.” James says heatedly. “It’s not like your mom was suddenly a cunt out of nowhere.”

Sirius bristles. “She’s craftier than you give her credit for. Maman isn’t fucking stupid. How else would she have gotten away with everything she’s done? She altered papa’s memories for 2 years. I can’t even imagine all the family navigating she had to do. Plus, it’s not like she ever turned on me when he was there. She’d just wait.”

James moves away from him and rises to his feet. He stomps around Sirius, dropping down angrily in front of him. His expression is stormy and furious. There’s a stain on his shirt. Sirius fixates on it, his mind drifting away from the conversation and he just doesn’t want to argue. He understands his family is awful, he gets that, but it's still his family. Sirius is cut from the same cloth, no matter how good he tries to be, no matter good he acts. 

“It’s my decision, Jaime.” Sirius says tiredly. “Why does it matter that I want to know my father?”

“It’s fucking stupid is what it is.” James snaps, nostrils flaring. “Just because they’re here now doesn’t forgive all the shit they’ve done to you. You’re a mess every time you return to Hogwarts. A mess I have to fix.”

“Well, fucking, sorry for that.” Sirius snaps, shoving himself to his feet.

James groans, following him. “Sirius, that isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” Sirius presses, moving to sit on his bed. “I forgave you for what you did. How is this any different?”

“I’ve never fucking hit you, first of all. How fucking dar-”

“No but you abandoned me.” Sirius interrupts him sharply. “Which is what you’re accusing my father of. Sure, no one raised their wand at me during our time apart but you did the same thing, James! You kicked me out of my fucking dorm! Did you even care where I slept? Obviously fucking not. You transfigured my bed! Did you notice I was never in the Great Hall majority of the time? If you hadn’t seen me and Reg on the map that day, how long was it truly going to take for you to talk to me?”

James stiffens almost instantly, drawing to his full height, hurt and fury warring over his features with frightening accuracy. He throws the snitch in his hands so hard it pops open and starts fluttering about. Sirius watches him process everything, regret stirring in his gut. 

“Those situations aren’t comparable.” James hisses, gritting his teeth. 

“Leave me alone.” Sirius says tiredly, rubbing his face with both hands. Months ago he would’ve argued, would’ve fought and screamed. But Sirius is tired, he’s so tired and he doesn’t want to be anything at all. He presses his fingers hard into his eyes and leaves them there. “Leave. I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t need your fucking absolution about decisions I make. You’ve all done shitty things to me. It’s my decision on whether or not I want anyone here.”

“You’re being difficult. Why are you even so desperate? You have a family! You have me! My parents!” James shouts, incensed.

“I didn’t have them when you fucking left, James!”

James ignores him, swiping the snitch out of the air. “What’s next? You forgive your mo-”

James cuts himself off sharply, eyes going wide behind his glasses. Sirius’ mouth drops open, blinding fury winding up so rapidly his head throbs. He wishes he had his magic, that he could be anywhere but here. James stares at him, panting, shoulders heaving with exertion and the vibrant pity and regret that crosses his expression makes Sirius want to break his face.

“I’m sor-”

“How fucking dare you. You fucking left me, James!” Sirius yells. “Like I was nothing. Like I meant nothing to you! I know I fucked up. I get it. But you dismissed me so easily like you don’t know me to my very center. You took everyone with you! Fuck, even Marlene stopped talking to me. She was mine first! You don’t get to tell me who has a fucking right to my life!”

“Pads,” James swallows thickly but Sirius is barely listening. “I apologized. I’ve apologized so many times I don’t know what else I can do to make you see how sor-”

“You can be sorry somewhere else. Get. Out!” Sirius shouts desperately.

“Sirius-”

“God, please. Leave!” Sirius manages, trembling. A long moment stretches between them. He barely registers his door closing, wishing desperately to stop the tears that spill. His chest feels tight and agonizing. He muffles his sobs into quiet whimpers, frustrated with himself, his lack of magic, this entire fucking situation and he’s tired of talking about it. To Anisa. To James. To his grandfather. A year ago he would’ve balked at the idea of reuniting with his family, of willingly talking to them. He only ever needed the Potters, only ever needed James and everything else was secondary.

Then James was gone. 

And Sirius was left with nothing but ghosts. He missed his grandmother almost as desperately as he did when he lost her. The situations weren’t comparable but if Sirius can forgive, why couldn’t anyone else? He knows his relationships are strained, always strained like the other person could never decide if he’s worth the level of work he is. Anisa had said he had low self worth with a superiority complex, fragile self esteem, which was hilarious. He was Sirius Orion Black the Third. Black’s aren’t worthless.

Sirius Black was anything but worthless.

It didn’t matter that his mother would disagree, would carve her words under his skin until he felt them for weeks, months, years. Barely worth the blood she shed giving birth to him, unworthy of his namesake, his genetics, the semen spilt to for his creation. Sirius shakes, burrowing into his needs and resists the wail wedged behind his teeth. He’s 4th in his year by barely trying. He became an animagus at a young age. He can hold his own against Bellatrix. He is an heir. He is worth something. He is-

“A useless sack of human flesh. If I could rip out the calcium in your bones and give it to someone greater, I would. What will you do, son, when that Potter boy realizes you bring nothing but grief to everything you touch. A stain on this great house. I should’ve drowned you. I should’ve never given you life, you loathsome parasite.”

No, no, he’s Si-

“You are too old to continue vexing me like this, Sirius Orion. Your father will do nothing. Stupid boy. As if he would ever tolerate your behavior. Be lucky to be able to even live in his presence. Tsk, asking for your father like he would give a damn! Instead you should be thanking me for my acceptance of you. My desire to make you into what you clearly are not. Worthless. Even I grow tired of wasting my time. Then what will you have? Nothing. In the end, who would want you if not your mother? Not Regulus. Not even that Potter brat.”

Sirius is ripped out of his mind by pain, sharp and acute and he’s back in Grimmauld again, staring down his mother’s burning gaze, her mad smile, the smooth press of her wand wedged into his neck. His breath shutters in his chest, heart beating rapidly like a caged bird. She’s so tall, so tall and he’s nothing, he’s nothing. Not a Marauder. Not a Black. Barely a person.

A flood of magic overwhelms him, all rich nectar and dewy grass. His mother blurs where she stands, her sneer morphing into a spread of wild flowers as she breaks apart like a sun peeking through a deep valley. Sirius inhales sharply, eyes shuttering closed. He can sense the sweet scent of the breeze, that familiar sun-soaked earth and shatters as he breathes, “”Effie.”

“Perfect, Sirius.” Euphemia’s voice rings through the air. “Breathe in. Slowly. Now out.”

Flower petals brush across his palms, sun shining gently over his skin and Sirius squeezes his eyes tighter, fighting back an onslaught of panic and fear, hiccuping. A pressing darkness settles into the corners of his mind like weeds, tucked away under a spring day. Soft hands touch his face, his neck and he’s enveloped in thick arms. Sirius sobs, clutching Euphemia tight to him. 

“Excellent work, my love.” She smooths a hand over his hair, her voice so soft, a lull of quiet melody. “Let’s breathe some more. Follow me.”

Sirius would follow her anywhere. His chest stutters as his lungs work themselves to accommodate her slow, methodical breathing. It takes work, an embarrassing amount, but Euphemia is ever patient and accommodating and everything he’s always wanted but didn’t deserve to have. Her magic retreats slowly but lingers, bringing forth the subtle swell of her perfume, the strawberry scent of her hair and Sirius sags, the knots in his shoulders and spine loosening.

“Did you know that your little owl friend, Boo, I think he’s called, has started sticking his beak into people’s ears and starts chirping? What a strange creature.” Euphemia tuts, laughing softly.

Sirius gives a watery laugh, filled with helpless confusion. “What?”

“That’s what I said!” Euphemia responds, rubbing his back. “I didn’t believe a word out of Monty’s mouth until the damn thing did it to me! I was helping Mipsy in the garden and he just dropped by. No letter, no note. Just a beak and chirp in my ear. Then he left!”

Sirius shakes his head against her shoulder, trembling with restrained laughter. How Hadrian Peverell, possibly the most intimidating Slytherin Sirius has ever met, owned such a ridiculous, strange owl, Sirius will never understand. Euphemia gathers his face in her hands, thumbs wiping carefully under his eyes and gives him a stern look.

“My son is stubborn and passionate but he loves you. We all do, Sirius. Family dynamics can be complicated. They can be painful and difficult. Forgiveness can be that as well. It is never simple.” She says, squeezing his cheeks. “It pains me to hear the journey you have been forced into.” 

Sirius sniffles. “James thinks I’m desperate.”

Euphemia softens. “It is not desperate to desire to rekindle things with your family. However, I do know you are a sweet boy. A loyal one despite the fractures brought about. I do not know your father, Sirius, but I do know Walburga. Walburga Black would never deserve a son like you. If this is what you feel you must do, you will always have my support.”

“I had desired another child once, then you arrived with James one Easter holiday and I knew. I just had to wait a bit longer. James has a big heart. He can say the wrong things. But he loves you deeply, Sirius. Fleamont does. So do I. There is no contract for that, no expectations. If Lord Black did not want you, if James did not want you, please know, Sirius, that I do. I always will, no matter what. I will not speak for Monty. You know how that old man can be.”

Sirius chuckles, feeling grateful and pleased and relieved. “He’d just ask if I wanted a shot and teach me about species of spiders in Australia.”

“That man.” Euphemia shakes her head fondly. She lets her hands slip from Sirius’ face. “It’s how he shows he cares. For all his charisma, he blunders and stutters and suddenly you have a glass filled with juice or some other nonsense and he’s showing you maps.” Her voice takes an outrageously deep quality. “Look here, Ef. This is where I found the acromantula venom we needed for the luscious, loopy hair potion.”

Sirius barks out a laugh, earning an amused look.

“Mind you, we had just been arguing about where to live. I wanted to settle closer to my parents. Monty wanted to move to Austria.” Euphemia huffs. “Lord knows why. What’s in Austria? Likely some strange creature and bath salts.”

“Bath salts?” Sirius asks, perplexed.

Euphemia throws up her hands. “Precisely! We have bath salts here!”

Sirius slumps back on his bed, feeling a bit raw. “Thank you. For everything. I… I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“You won’t.” Euphemia says firmly, hands on her hips. “That’s what family does. If I even see attempts for… I don’t know… Repayment. I will smack you over the head with something covered in tar and feathers…Yes. A great idea. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.”

Sirius blinks, helplessly charmed. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either but it seemed efficient in the muggle movie I watched.” Euphemia nods seriously so Sirius does as well. “I’ll send Hadrian up. He appeared right after your… talk with James so I can only imagine how chastised my son must be feeling. Which is hilarious as he will be chastised again!”

“Go easy on him, please.” Sirius chuckles and Euphemia lifts a haughty eyebrow at him. Sirius raises his hands placatingly, watching in amusement as she sweeps out of the bedroom in a way that looks like a threat. He feels sorry for James. Sirius moves to fix his shirt when he notices a tangle of dark hair in his fist. He shakes the strands out, praying quietly that he doesn’t have any bald spots.

Hadrian appears in his doorway after a short while, dressed so plainly that Sirius does a double take. There are soft bags under his eyes, turning the green hazy and murky. 

“Are you in… sweatpants?” Sirius asks, incredulous. “Why are you dressed like a casual spread in Harper’s Bazaar?”

“Don’t start. What are you? 12?” Hadrian snips, gesturing to Sirius’ own attire. Sirius glances down at his too large shirt. It’s acid wash with a picture of Bambi on the front wearing a bowler hat that he cut into a crop top simply for the scandal of it. It falls off his shoulder, he drags it back on.

“It’s cute.” Sirius defends. “Plus if I stretch a certain way I flash everyone. Grandfather would love it if he wasn’t such a bore.”

Hadrian pinches the bridge of his nose, looking torn between laughing or crying or turning Sirius into a worm or something. He sighs heavily, decision unclear, and moves to sit on the edge of Sirius’ bed. Sirius shifts where he’s sitting, crossing his legs underneath him. He leans forward and gestures to the door. Hadrian sends him a confused look.

“I can’t use magic, remember? Close the door. Tell me why you look like shit.”

Hadrian obeys with a wave of his hand. “I’m just tired.”

“Yes, I can see that. You didn’t have to visit me today. I know you have things to do, people to disembowel. Possibly cities to conquer.” Sirius waves his hand. “You could have sent a letter. Boo would give me plenty of entertainment.”

“Boo is a bit put out from your lack of presence but I wanted to see you.” Hadrian sighs, settling his elbows on his knees. He rubs a hand over his face. “Summer is hard. My father stays busy and I’ve elected to join him. He makes time to see me, of course, but I know this way is easier on him.”

“You’re a good son.” Sirius tells him, ignoring the flutter in his stomach.

“I try. I have a very good father.” Hadrian looks at him, eyes narrowing. “Your eyes are puffy. There’s what appears to be hair on your floor. You’re exhausted. Euphemia came downstairs like a storm cloud. What did James Potter do now?”

Sirius sniffs, unnerved. “Nothing. We just had a disagreement. It’s my fault.”

“Yet James seemed the most guilty.” Hadrian responds slowly, unimpressed. “Or do you not want to talk with me about it?”

“He’s your cousin.”

“You are my friend.” Hadrian counters easily. 

Sirius feels his shoulders drop. He looks at his bedspread, his clothed knees. He feels very young all of sudden, like he’s waiting for Professor McGonagall to open the door to her classroom so they can get started with detention. His shirt falls off one shoulder. Sirius tugs it back on and drags his gaze up with a sigh.

“He’s upset I’m talking to my father.”

Hadrian’s expression shifts in displeasure. “It’s not really his decision.”

“I know that.” Sirius twists the hem of his shirt. “I think it’s just hard for him. You know? James has been my friend for so long. He’s seen the usual aftermath of maman. It’s only this summer that it became too much.”

“It has always been too much, Sirius.” Hadrian sighs tiredly. “Tell me about Orion. As I’ve said before, Lord Black is the most palatable of your family. Since I’ve seen Walburga’s aftermath, I can’t say I’m too impressed with your parentage so far.”

“Papa wasn’t like that.” Sirius says, feeling fraught and damn, he is not trying to have this argument again.

“Then what was he like, Sirius? Where was he?” Hadrian presses, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t make that face. I am not here to attack you.”

It feels like it, Sirius thinks. He stares down at his hands. “I don’t really know anymore. We used to talk when I was younger. He didn’t care what house I was sorted into and then he just sort of… disappeared. Papa wasn’t really a part of my life for the last few years. Then all of this shit happened and I find out maman is the reason for it.”

Hadrian’s brow furrows. “Explain how your mother was the reason.”

“My aunt found my father the day I blew myself up. On a farm somewhere in France. I don’t really know all the details, just that he had been there for two years apparently or something. I didn’t really ask. It was just shocking to me.” Sirius swallows thickly. “Grandfather said his memories had been modified. My father was furious when I saw him the other day and yelled at grandfather. I think he blames him for what happened. To him. To me. Because he wasn’t really around either.”

“Ah.” Hadrian hums thoughtfully. “Walburga picked a prime time to handle all this.”

“I think so too.” Sirius agrees. “Grandfather was already so busy with mémé after she got sick. Then I think he announced he was retiring. I don’t really remember. At the time, I didn’t care. I didn’t really care about anything. I would just wait for holidays and summers to pass so I could go back to Hogwarts. Nothing would change. Maman was still hard on me.”

“And now you forgive your father for being absent because you want to know him.” Hadrian states plainly. “To do what exactly? Prove that he isn’t as bad as your mother?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know him very well anymore. I feel like I owe it to try at least. Papa seemed sincere.”

Hadrian stares at him for a long moment, expression blank. “I hate that you do this to yourself. You continue to let people back in-”

“Stop.” Sirius says wildly.

Hadrian ignores him. “That have either hurt you or were complicit in that hurt. You forgive like none of it meant nothing. It pisses me off.”

“That’s not fair-”

“It wasn’t fair to you, Sirius!” Hadrian snaps angrily. “Have you considered that? Do you truly think you amount to so little that any of this is remotely satisfactory? Don’t even start about how you fucked up last term. I refuse to hear that same shit. You forgave James so goddamn easily. You forgave Remus and Peter already and you haven’t even spoken to either of them. I haven’t even begun to address your relationship with Regulus.”

“Reg is just a child-”

“You were just a child.” Hadrian says sharply.

“They’re my family. They’re my family.” Sirius says quietly, despair heavy in his heart, eyes brimming with tears. “What would you have me do, Hadrian? They are all I have-”

“Do not defend them to me,” Hadrian snarls, the air crackling around him. “When you will not defend yourself.”

Sirius’ mouth trembles, opening and closing. They stare at each other for a long moment. Sirius looks down at his lap. “Fine.”

“I have been cordial on your behalf because, regretfully, I care about you. It further complicates things that James Potter is my cousin. However, I am not you, Sirius. I am vindictive. I do draw blood on behalf of those who are mine. This is their only and last chance until I become involved.” Hadrian tells him, disgust evident. “You should’ve been a fucking Puff the way you toss loyalty around carelessly.”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius whispers, roughly wiping his face. He doesn’t understand when he became so fucking emotional. Sirius just wants the summer to end, wants his magic back, wants to stop spilling all over everything and everyone.

Hadrian exhales sharply. “...I’ve said my piece. Though at this point, a howler might’ve been more efficient then at least you’d have Boo’s incessant squawking and his oral fixation to comfort you. Did you hear about his new, favorite pastime? What fucking owl sticks their beak in ears?”

“Oh, don’t be nice to me, I already feel awful.” Sirius barks out a watery laugh.

“Hush. I am generous and kind enough to share my owl and his terrible manners.” Hadrian lifts his chin, moving to stand. “Now come here.”

Sirius wipes his eyes, staggering to his feet. “Why? Are you gonna comfort me? Pull an Effie?”

“Yes, you daft dog. Though Euphemia is likely a better option. Animals require positive reassurance. I don’t want you to be more upset.” Hadrian huffs, annoyed. He meets Sirius halfway, gathering him in his arms easily and Sirius sags against him, arms looped around his shoulders. He’s never quite noticed their height difference, his face buried in the curve of Hadrian’s shoulder. Hadrian smells incredibly good, like bergamot and clove and sandalwood. Sirius sniffles, snot filled and thick, and Hadrian sighs, deeply aggrieved.

Sirius bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry. You just smell really good.”

“You truly are a damn dog.” Hadrian says dismissively, though he sounds content. “Not that this is any worse than when you drooled all over me. My turtleneck, specifically. It’d have been charming if you weren’t delusional and potioned. Your mouth is a fountain when you’re asleep.”

“That is not true!” Sirius replies, face hot. He glares up at him. “I do not drool.”

“Don’t pout. And you do. I was the one wearing the turtleneck after all. Why are you offended? You could snore. Instead you… leak.” Hadrian grimaces, smoothing Sirius’ hair back. “It was so much, maus. So much that it soaked through the fabric like a geys-”

“I did not!” Sirius shouts, wide eyed and embarrassed. He blanches. “Wait. You think I’m charming?”

“That’s not what I said.” Hadrian hisses, pulling away with a disgruntled look but Sirius grabs his shoulders with a laugh, nearly knocking them over. Hadrian keeps them steady, his hands on Sirius’ waist and Sirius can see the faint dust of pink on his cheeks, the way his pupils dilate and oh. He gasps, a lecherous grin stretching across his face. 

“You fucking do!” Sirius cackles. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You did tell James the only reason you’re friends with me is because I’m pretty.”

Hadrian’s expression turns murderous but his face pinkens deeply.

James chooses that moment to burst into the room, wearing a pair of incredibly short, lightly singed sweat shorts that ride up so high on his thighs that you can see exactly where his balls sit. He looks at them, their position, strangely thrilled with raised eyebrows and a wide smile. Sirius eyes his shorts, frowning.

“I’m pretty sure I burned those.”

“Don’t slutshame me, Pads. I can literally see your nipples pressed against Hazza’s chest.”

Sirius looks down, seeing his shirt has ridden up quite far. “Oh. So they are.”

“God, I truly hate you both.” Hadrian groans. He tries to move away but James comes barreling at them, much like he would in animagus form, and knocks them all to the ground.

Chapter Text

“You’re doing super well, Pads!” James says happily, hands on his hips. His eyes are stern with a slight spark of giddy delight. “Now again.”

“James Potter, I will eviscerate you.” Sirius snaps, frustrated. He tosses his wand to the ground and wipes his face roughly. Healer Benoit had finally cleared him for use of his magic and removed the block she placed on his core but also demanded he continue to see Anisa for his temper, and trauma, god, after a spectacular explosion that resulted in- No, it doesn’t matter, Sirius shakes himself. He has access to his magic again, which is great. And exercises developed for temperamental 6 year olds, which is not great.

“At least you didn’t set anything on fire this time.” Regulus chimes in from his seat, idly flipping through Sirius’ Ancient Runes textbook. “I still don’t understand how you’ve managed an O in this class.”

“Psh. Like it’s hard.” Sirius responds, slumping to his side on the floor. “We can’t all be math nerds.”

Regulus bristles. “Arithmancy is more than that.”

“Whatever, little bro. If we were muggles, you’d be one of those genius geometry folks.” Sirius waves a dismissive hand. “With their circles and whatever else that geometry folks do.”

“What do they need circles for?” James pipes in, looking confused.

“How do you even know they use circles?” Regulus sniffs.

“I like math.” Sirius shrugs. “I’m tired. Both of you go away.”

“No can do, my friend.” James chirps. “Peter’s coming over.”

Sirius groans as Regulus pushes himself to his feet. “On that note, I take my leave.”

James watches him go. “Wow. He really can’t stand us.”

Sirius turns into Padfoot as soon as his bedroom door clicks closed and shuffles under his bed. Padfoot, while intimately familiar, seems to have changed with the settling of his magic (and his mother’s). His form is now too big to be trapped in such a small space but spite has always been a driving factor. Still, Sirius thinks something is missing inside him. He researched a bit about core damage and he shouldn’t theoretically be this unstable still. He tucks his head into his belly, draping his tail over his eyes when James sighs. James sighs again, this time louder. Sirius ignores him both times.

“Padfoot. Sirius.” James dips under the bed and scratches the base of Sirius’ tail. “He’s been worried sick about you. It’s just Peter.”

Sirius groans deeply, a low rattling sound, and doesn’t move. He knows it’s just Peter and that’s fine but Sirius is so sick of seeing people. Sirius feels awful enough that the entire Potter home has been walking on eggshells around him as he healed, which wasn’t nearly as awful as his grandfather and papa’s careful handling and Regulus’ twitchy “I’m a Black and therefore can’t show I care” antics. Even Hadrian kept his teasing at a minimum after their talk. Not to mention James crying over how he snapped at Sirius. At this point, Sirius thinks it’s better to just stay a dog and hide away from everyone and their unnerving sympathy until they come to their senses.

The only person he hadn’t seen or spoken to was Remus, which was fair. Sirius personally didn’t think they’d ever recover. He’s always been efficient at destroying relationships and turning one of your friends into a potential murderer seems like a pretty damn good way of ensuring they’d never speak again. James was hopeful, Sirius was not. Peter would likely remain neutral, which was great and not really needed since Peter just went whichever direction James went in like a loon.

“I did invite Moons. Don’t know if he’ll show though.”

Sirius lifts his head up so quickly it thunks loudly against the underside of his bed. He grumbles, tail thumping in agitation as he rubs the top of his head with his paws. God, Sirius hoped Remus didn’t show. Sirius wanted forgiveness but not because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut a second time, blew up his house and proceeded to blow himself up right after. Hadrian might’ve been upset that Sirius has already forgiven them and craves their company but he will not manipulate anyone. Fuck you, James, Sirius thinks, whining low in his throat.

James coos, wiggles under the bed to lie beside him. 

“I know you’re scared.” James says quietly. “I’m sure you have it in that dumb head of yours that you’re manipulating the situation and guilting them into talking to you. We both know that’s not the case. It may be awkward but… we’re Marauders. We fall back into place every time. Save the hard conversations for later. Just let them see you and see that you’re ok. If Remus shows, he shows. If he doesn’t, whatever.”

James looks at him, brushing his thumb along Sirius’ snout. “I’ll be right beside you. This is my house so if I need to ram anyone out the door, I will. Plus, you’re too big to be hiding under a bed like this. Half your ass is spilling out. You look like a guppy.”

Sirius makes an affronted noise, reeling his head up sharply only to thunk his head again. He collapses to the floor with a pitiful whine. James laughs at him. Sirius grumbles but changes back, sprawled on his side and the bed sags in relief as it settles evenly along the floor. He rubs his head gingerly.

“Oh, hello Padfoot. Nice of you to join me.” James grins, tugging Sirius into his arms. “I was searching for an incredibly handsome dog who was hiding and found you instead.”

Sirius sniffs. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

“Only because you’re my favorite. My handsome boy.” James coos. “Are you ready to face the world?”

“I feel so nervous, which is stupid.” Sirius sighs. “I need to change.”

“Let’s start there.” James hums encouragingly. He helps Sirius out from under the bed then digs through his closet like a man possessed. Sirius watches him, charmed. James puts an outfit together in record time. He watches Sirius get changed with a firm nod and lazily tosses a rich maroon jumper onto the bed. Sirius blinks.

“This isn’t mine.”

“Yes, well. I know you have a steady Hadrian sweater supply but,” James sniffs. “I saw it and thought of you so. No take backs.”

“Thanks, Prongs.” Sirius whispers, pulling it on. It’s lightweight and incredibly soft to the touch much like the ones Sirius has stolen. 

“I added some warming charms too.” James nods, pleased, and pats Sirius on the shoulder. “I’ve seen you shivering. Only you, Pads. Shivering in the summer.”

“Fuck off.” Sirius chirps pleasantly.

A swirl of shimmering white light bursts through the door, taking the shape of a glittery swan. It opens its mouth and Euphemia’s voice rings out, “Peter’s here! I have Mipsy working on lunch. Have fun.”

Sirius inhales shakily and braces himself. He looks to James, who smiles warmly. Some Gryffindor I am, Sirius thinks miserably, following James out of the room. It’s an animated walk to the dining room, James chattering about everything and anything as if he can distract Sirius from his own rampant thoughts. Which he can and does successfully. 

They find Peter in the dining room, his blonde hair almost white under the morning sun spilling into the room. There’s a smudge of chocolate on his lower lip, thick forearms on display from where his sleeves are rolled up. He notices them quickly, sitting up so quickly his chair nearly topples over.

“Padfoot!” Peter greets cheerfully, face splitting into a wide smile and Sirius reels a bit when he bustles up to him and hugs him so tightly his spine pops. Sirius wheezes, laughing, and hugs him back just as hard. They weren’t usually tactile people to each other but distances always made Peter a bit weird. James shoots Sirius a speaking look, his expression pleased and smug. 

“Now Peter can spill the details of the story he’s been keeping underwraps in his letters.” James gestures to the table. “I need something to be invested in.”

“It’s how I keep myself entertained during Runes.” Sirius nods. “Wormtail’s a fine storyteller.”

-

Peter’s cheeks darken but he appears pleased, releasing Sirius. “Yes, well. We have much to catch up on. I still haven’t told you about the two students I found doing anal in the common room.”

Peter reclaims his seat as the words slowly make sense. 

Sirius’ eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “They were what?!”

“Who?!” James is equally scandalized. He clamors into a seat beside Peter, making a grand gesture of impatience. Sirius sits directly across from them, arms folded on the table as he leans forward.

“It was Kimie Hurano and Jayden Bolt.” Peter says then pauses.

James explodes. “Jayden Bolt’s a hufflepuff! I thought he was dating Julia Pingleton?”

“Kimie Hurano?” Sirius frowns thoughtfully. “Wasn’t… She’s with a 6th year. Uhm. Marco?”

Peter nods eagerly. “Marco Jefferson. See the thing is. Kimie caught Marco and Julia together. In the old Transfiguration classroom.”

Sirius balks. “No. Oh that’s so gross. Julia just started Hogwarts.”

“Oh, that’s sick.” James gags.

Peter grins darkly. “Well, it wasn’t just me who saw them but also Marco Jefferson, Professor McGonagall, and the Headmaster.”

“Dumbledore?!” James cries, hands fisted on the table. “He never comes to the common room.”

“Marco Jefferson was getting escorted to his dorm so he could clear out due to expulsion.” Peter says excitedly. “What for, you may ask? For revenge porn. He’s been recording Jayden and Kimie for months on a muggle device and planned on selling it to a TV network. Apparently he knew Kimie was cheating on him, which is why he started sleeping with Julia.”

“Oh, that’s just fucking sick.” Sirius pales. James nods rapidly across from him.

“That’s… Holy shit, Pete! You’ve been sitting on this!” James jumps up, clapping Peter hard on the shoulder. “How did they even know he was recording stuff?”

Peter pauses then leads forward. “Professor Slughorn caught him taking nudes of Julia. They also found a camera on him and a voice recorder that contained additional evidence.”

Sirius feels sick. “Fucking yikes. She’s underaged!”

-

“It’s wild. Of course in all the commotion, no one noticed a rat trailing after them. High risk.” Peter hums, leaning back in his chair. “But high reward. I felt a letter wouldn’t do it justice.”

James slumps down in his chair, eyes wide behind his glasses, his hand still on Peter’s shoulder. Peter looks at him, tickled, and laughs softly when James turns to him, still very much thrown. His mouth opens then closes and it sends the rest of them collapsing in giggles. It’s then that an array of dishes appear on the table before them; roast beef, cubed steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, buttered rolls, grilled vegetables, and a single serving of boeuf bourguignon that sits directly in front of Sirius. His mouth waters immediately. 

Mipsy always did love spoiling him.

“But enough about me and how I spend my leisure time.” Peter says, filling his plate high. “Pads, please tell me you didn’t drop Runes. I will die without you.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh Wormy, you’re the only reason I’m still in regular classes. Babbling wanted me with the 7th years this upcoming year. She thinks I need a challenge.”

Peter whimpers. “I’ll give you my entire allowance.”

“You could always drop the course, Wormy.” James reminds him.

“He can’t. Pete wants to work for the Ministry. I don’t want your money, Wormtail. Your stories are worth enough for my sacrifice.” Sirius quips, sipping at his stew. It’s savory and delightful and he’s overcome with the urge to weep into it. “Fuck, this is delicious.”

“Mipsy spoils you.” James nods, then gasps loudly. “I didn’t know you wanted to work at the Ministry, Pete.” 

Peter blushes. “I’m not sure what career path I want but it’s not too early to get an idea. You two need to figure out what you’re doing.”

Sirius hums around a mouthful of tender beef. “I’m sure Pépé will have something to say. He’s still technically retired. I think papa is his current proxy because apparently, grandfather is already over it and they're still on break.”

James clears his throat, embarrassed. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ll talk to dad. Suspect Moony will end up being a teacher or some shit.”

“He’d be brill at that.” Sirius agrees and Peter nods eagerly. 

“For sure. He’s the only reason I passed Defense this past year.” Peter sighs, patting his stomach. “There’s also research positions that would benefit from his special eyes.”

“Hell, my papers benefitted from Moony’s special eyes.” James mutters, staring forlornly at the last piece of roast beef. Sirius gestures to him to go ahead but Peter plucks it with a genial smile. James sighs deeply.

“I’m a growing boy, Prongs.” Peter tells him. “I thought Regulus was here.”

James nods solemnly. “The Black brothers are incredibly evasive during turbulent times.”

“Can you even spell turbulent?” Peter asks, awed, and James smacks his arm. Sirius laughs at them, his heart aching and warm in his chest. He could imagine Remus sitting beside him, teasing James relentlessly because heaven’s help them, James would not know how to spell turbulent. Sirius swallows around a lump in his throat. He had really fractured them so spectacularly. 

Their dishes disappear with a pop just as a low hoot rings through the air, startling them from the conversation. Sirius immediately recognizes Boo with his expressive eyes and tiny physique. Boo whistles loudly when he notices Sirius, the letters tucked in his talons dropped to the floor hastily as he swoops towards him. He burrows into the side of his face, little chest puffed and ruffled and settles on his shoulder with a coo. Boo then proceeds to shove his tiny beak into Sirius’ ear and chirps.

Sirius jumps. “Holy shit. I thought Effie and Hazza were fucking with me.”

“I forgot he hasn’t seen you.” James chuckles, scooping the letters from the floor. He passes one to Sirius. “Little thing is insufferable.”

“Why do you have an owl eating your hair, Pads?” Peter asks, leaning forward to get a closer look.

Boo is indeed, now, nibbling at a loose strand of Sirius’ hair. Sirius tucks it behind his ear, earning a disgruntled hoot in response. He rubs Boo’s chest in apology. “Boo and I are besties.”

“Boo?” Peter asks. Boo’s head swivels to him and hoots.

“Hadrian’s owl.” James tells them, looking over the contents of his letter. “Aww, he’ll be in Germany for a bit. Wonder what’s there.”

Sirius forces down his disappointment, breaking the seal of his letter. He studies the familiar elegance of Hadrian’s handwriting, the smooth, certain strokes of his quill.

Maus,

My father and I will be visiting Germany in a few days. Specifically, Silberwald. It’s a small magical community with peculiar animals. He doesn’t say why exactly we are going but I know this man and if he brings another cat home, I may just throw myself off our roof or, worse, join a circus. I have no aversions to cats but 6 is already a bit much. Do we truly need another?

Don’t pout. I can already see your expression as if you were here in front of me. We’ll be there for the rest of the summer. I was going to give this to you upon my return but I find myself impatient. I’m sure you can follow directions. Tap your wand to this letter and simply say “bound for mischief”. A callmark to your and my cousin’s desire to whiten my hair before I am 20.

If it helps, I miss your company already. 

Always,

Hadrian

Sirius blinks, turning the paper over with increased interest. He procures his wand, taps it and says, “Bound for mischief.”

The parchment catches fire but holds no heat, burning bright and brilliant as it twists into an exquisite, platinum bracelet. The remnants of parchment that remain fade into nothing. Sirius studies the bracelet, delighted and enamored by such a display of magic. It’s intricately inlaid with various runes and sparkles beautifully under the low light of the dining room. Sirius slides it on and he can feel a small part of Hadrian’s magic brushing and curling against his own. He resists a shiver, embarrassed at how well they react together and how nice it feels. What a bastard, Sirius thinks, face a bit warm. Boo ruffles against him, looking immensely pleased.

“Damn.” James whistles. “Well, now I’m just jealous. My letter didn’t do shit.”

“That was incredible.” Peter whispers. “Are you… dating?”

Sirius’ face goes scarlet, his palms sweat and spark. “We’re just friends.”

“Expensive gift for just friends.” Peter sniffs, appearing tickled. “I’ll be his friend too if I get shit like that.”

“Please.” James dismisses easily. “Shall we calculate how much money I’ve spent on each of you in this past year alone? Besides, if Hazza wanted to court Pads. He’d need my permission.”

Sirius laughs nervously. “There is no courting happening. And he’d kill you if he heard you calling him that again.”

“I’ve called him worse.” James waves him off. “We’re bonding. I think we’re actually friends now. He threatens me way less. It’s great.”

“Wouldn’t he go to Sirius’ grandfather?” Peter asks, tilting his head. “I don’t even know how courting works. I just ask girls out.”

“Depends on the family. I’m sure Lord Black would appreciate something more official than ‘hey, I’m boning your grandson’. Unless you’re Padfoot’s dear mommy who just thrusts the most volatile, if not incestuous, match you can find.” James shrugs. “Once Evans realizes I’m the best, I will court the shit out of her.”

Peter cries, “His mother did what?!”

“Why are you confused?” James asks, turning to Peter. “Wally tried to marry him off to his cousin. He exploded their house. Now he’s here and so is the sulky baby Black.”

Peter pales dramatically, hand raised in front of him, confusion rippling across his features. He looks ill.

“She did what?” Peter manages.

James looks at Sirius. “You didn’t tell him? Wait. Was it not in the Prophet?”

“You dumb deer. When exactly was I supposed to have told them when today’s my first time seeing Peter this summer?” Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose. “With what owl am I supposed to send letters with? Also, I wouldn’t know if it was in the Prophet considering grandfather sued like everyone.”

Peter makes a weak, wailing noise. “She did what?”

James sits back in his chair. “Alright, do I have a story for you.”

Sirius sits back, one arm draped over the back of his chair, laughing at Peter’ ashen face as he regales the tale of Sirius blowing himself up and Regulus having to save him from himself. He leaves out little details, like Sirius’ state when he arrived and all of James’ tangible fear that came with it, but it’s an entertaining tale that Sirius can almost pretend didn’t involve him.

“Now Pads does baby exercises.” James finishes grandly. “It’s so cute.”

“Just because I am not duel worthy does not mean I won’t break your face in, Prongs.” Sirius says sweetly and James swoons in his chair.

“I can already see Hogwarts now.” Peter laughs. “Heir of one of the darkest houses proceeds to throw hands instead of hexes.”

“You’ve seen my right hook, Wormy.” Sirius scoffs, haughty, chin raised. “It’s just as good.”

James guffaws. “When’s the last time you even punched anyone, Pads?”

“He decked some fifth year before we boarded the train.” Peter says thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “Uhm, what was his name? He’s a Slytherin. Cletus?”

“Ugh, Wybie Cletus is a fucking bitch.” Sirius sneers. “Maybe he shouldn’t look up skirts. Isn’t that against their code or some shit?”

“Where was I?” James asks, affronted. “I would’ve done something.”

“You were with Evans. Hazza dragged me away.” Sirius waves his hand. “It was telling that none of the other snakes defended the bastard so I feel justified.”

“Or they’re scared of your murderous boyfriend?” Peter bats his eyelashes. He sobers immediately. “I’m definitely scared of your murderous boyfriend. Something just feels off about him. It’s eerie. He’s eerie, which makes me feel crazy because he has so many damn friends.”

“Peter, you were scared of your shadow in our dorm for three weeks until we convinced you it was just a shadow.” Sirius says, gingerly twisting the bracelet on his wrist. “You just don’t know Hadrian well. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

James hums in agreement. “His magic is scary but Hads is a good dude.”

Sirius nods slowly, watching Peter’s quiet acceptance as he mulls over their words. Sirius gets it, he does, but he’s also a firm believer that anyone who would earn Kee’s sweet words and praises couldn’t be bad. Though, even if Peter’s concerns were valid, Sirius doesn’t think he’d care. The Hadrian he knows pours milk before his cereal, laughs a bit too loudly at Marlene’s terrible jokes and smiles too freely when it’s just them. A person who showed up for Sirius multiple times despite only having met two months before everything went to shit with The Marauders, then showed up again when everything went to shit between Sirius and his mother.

“Did you witness him dueling too?” Peter asks, looking ill. 

“Nah.” James shakes his head. “Oh well, I have seen him duel for class. But he destroyed one of the rooms here when we told him about Pads’ dramatic escape. Actually, Pete, I get where you’re coming from. It was spooky. I thought I was going to die and I wasn’t even who he was upset at.”

“What duel did you see, Wormy? Didn’t you skip class that day?” Sirius frowns. He doesn’t remember seeing Peter the day they had ‘friendly’ duels with Ghile.

Peter flushes. “Oh. Well. I sneak around a lot as you both know. I came across Hadrian being cornered by some Slytherins. Mulciber seemed to be leading it but Snape was there. It was, like, a week or two after everything happened with Mary in the DADA class I skipped. I’m not really sure on the timeline if I’m being honest. I was dying in Runes so for all I know it could’ve been the day after.” Peter laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Ok, it wasn’t really a duel. I just know Mulciber was fucking pissed when they approached him. Said shit about Hadrian having no loyalty and Hadrian was just like, ‘you wouldn’t know loyalty if it broke your face’ and Mulciber went off.”

Sirius grimaces, inside he’s delighted. “Can’t imagine that went well.”

James nods in agreement. “Hazza’s got a short temper.”

“Oh, he was fine until Mulciber brought you up.” Peter points at Sirius. “Said something like Hadrian would bed a blood traitor being a,” Peter clears his throat. “Just think of a slur, I won’t repeat it. The temperature had dropped so quickly my little rat ears popped. I don’t even think he drew his wand. One moment Mulciber was standing and the next he was… liquified. I don’t know it was fucking weird and gross-”

“Wait. That was Hadrian?” James hollers, eyes wide. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Jesus, Prongs. Let the man finish.” Sirius hisses.

Peter sends Sirius an amused look. “I don’t know, man. Mulciber was just a flesh puddle. He might’ve screamed. I think Hadrian silenced him or something. He just ignored him, looked at the rest of them, like he was gauging them or something. Then he was like, ‘even if I wasn’t a half blood, I wouldn’t side with a bunch of racist cunts. I do have muggleborn friends after all’. I think that was a dig about Lily. Then he just left. Snape went after him but Mulciber became a human again after they turned a corner. I fucking skedaddled.”

“Holy shit.” Sirius whistles. “How did I manage to disarm him?”

“You disarmed Hadrian?” Peter asks, wide eyed. “Why does all the fun shit happen when I skip class?”

“I caught him off guard. He wasn’t expecting me to be Bellatrix proof.” Sirius laughs. He leers at Peter and winks. “I think you were in more pants than I was this year, sir Wormtail. You little slut.”

Peter blushes deeply, earning a cackle from James.

Chapter Text

Sirius’ eyebrow twitches, hair tied into a sloppy bun that spills out sideways. He rubs his face, groaning quietly. Sirius doesn’t even know what time it is and his skin pulls sharply with exhaustion. He looks over at Regulus, who appears just as tired despite the sullen line of his mouth, his arithmancy assignment scattered over the table between them.

Sirius doesn’t know why he offered his assistance seeing as arithmancy was Regulus’ specialty but Sirius did have an eye for numbers even if he could not be bothered to deal with charts or worse, divination. Regulus asked for help, sulked really, and Sirius found he could not deny his sullen, little brother anything. They ended up in a side suite of Sirius’ room, stretched out amongst ornate floor pillows and brightly lit candles. Sirius casts a wandless tempus, whimpering. It’s nearly 4 hours until sunrise.

“I apologize. I wasn’t aware this would take so long.” Regulus flicks his wand. Papers begin to slide together in a neat stack. His cheeks are a bit flushed.

“At least, it’s done.” Sirius yawns, stretching upwards. His spine pops and his insides flood in relief. “I forgot how fun it could be. I think my brain is broken, however.”

“I am also experiencing regret.”

Sirius laughs tiredly. “I’m sure grandfather or papa would sign off for you to drop it. You’ve always been good about logical reasoning. What time are you getting me up?”

“9.”

“God . You fucking suck.” Sirius slumps against the table. “It’s summer, Reggie.”

“Do not start with that.” Regulus sighs. “Your definition of summer fun is something I want no part of. Being stuck at the Potters, you becoming a squib with your magic theft tendencies, dismantling family drama. Need I go on? 

“This is your most exciting summer, don’t lie. Why am I being punished? Sure, papa rises with the damn sun but I don’t.” Sirius whines low in his throat. “Pépé sleeps more than I do. He’s the only one with some sense.”

Regulus sighs again. “Do not call our grandfather that.”

“He loves it. The cheeky bastard. He gets all squinty eyed and coy.” Sirius sighs loudly and forces himself up. He scrubs at his face, yawning. His jaw cracks and well , if that isn’t a charming way to end the day. Sirius stumbles to his feet, excited at the prospect of bed. It feels like he’s been running on fumes since taking permanent residence in Black Manor. 

While incredibly grand, it was really no place for anyone younger than 40 but his grandfather was ever a gracious host and Ophelia was excited to have life bustling about. Luckily, Orion has, also, been incredibly accommodating to Sirius' random bouts of adventure. They even went to muggle Rouen because Orion “I refuse to sully myself with the common people of London. If we must, Sirius Orion, we will go to Rouen. Hopefully, you absorb its culture” Black deemed it worthy of his time.

It had been a refreshing visit. Orion dutifully allowed Sirius to drag him, and Regulus, to anything and everything. Sirius wanted to see cathedrals, visit museums, eat Canard à la Rouennaise and spend modest amounts of money on stuffed ducks that he sent to everyone he knew with his grandfather’s devil owl. Euphemia had sent a howler that was just filled with dying wheezes and breathless laughter after receiving a box of Austrian Bath Salts, which Sirius considered a win. Marlene had been equally delighted to have pastries delivered with her Chef Duck.

His grandfather claimed to have hated the Astrology Professor Duck Sirius had gotten him but it mysteriously disappeared from where he left it. Ophelia then snitched and revealed that Pépé had taken it to Melania’s grave with him and now it remained in his study under a heavy glamor. Cheeky bastard. Sirius also managed to find a gift for Hadrian, a finely crafted silver bracelet intricately designed as two serpents winding in a continuous loop with their eyes inlaid with emeralds. 

Regulus hovers by the door, schoolwork tucked away in his rucksack. He looks soft and small in his pajamas. There’s a bedazzled hair clip pinning his bangs backwards. Sirius gives a small, tired giggle, earning a dull glare. He slumps on the edge of his bed, spinning his wand loosely in one hand. Regulus yawns into his fist.

“I… am glad you decided to stay here.” Regulus admits quietly. “To take up the mantle. I know maman wanted it to go to me. I didn’t think I’d make a good fit.”

Sirius frowns because that was a ridiculous notion. “You’d make a better heir than me. I have no idea how I’m going to run this house. Ugh, grandfather already has me looking over a bunch of boring shit and I’m just… I don’t know, Reg. I don’t… I don’t know if I even deserve to.” Or if I even want to, Sirius thinks. And wasn’t that an idea. Fighting this, fighting himself for so long. It almost felt like conceding defeat.

Regulus stares at him for a long, ponderous moment, his eyes searching. “I disagree.”

“Your vote of confidence has been noted.” Sirius laughs nervously.

“You should consider taking arithmancy.” Regulus mutters, diverting the topic. “You are adept at it.”

Sirius makes a face. “I’d rather eat a frog.”

“Tsk. Well, I appreciate your insight.” Regulus straightens, his smile small and private. “I shall see you at 9. The Healer said not to overdo your magic. Your control is still abysmal. Did you do your exercises today?”

Jesus, when did Regulus become such a nag?

“Yes, brother.” Sirius says dutifully. “I am just turning out the lights. No overdoing it here.”

“Cheers.” Regulus hums happily, leaving with a jaunty wave.

Sirius manages a laugh and falls back onto his bed. He flicks his wand lazily, candles whisked to give way to darkness. A thick beam of moonlight batters against the closed curtains. Sirius collapses into a wide array of pillows, burying his face into their featherlight touch. He manages to drag the comforter over him as an afterthought and is asleep within seconds. 

It couldn’t have been more than a moment later that Sirius finds himself stirring awake. His brain protests haggardly. The light of the moon has shifted in suggestion of longer time passed between these moments. Sirius struggles into awareness. His eyelids are so heavy, mouth cotton with sleep. A body shifts gently against him, their arms tucked around his waist. Familiar notes of sandalwood and mint tea drift through the fog in Sirius’ brain and he hums sleepily, a question. He manages to bring an arm up, curling it against Regulus’ back, his face tucked into soft curls. Regulus’ arms tighten around him, head buried in Sirius’ chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Alright.” Sirius slurs drowsily.

Regulus curls into him, breath hitching, the air turning acrid and sour with fear. Sirius forces his eyes open and holds him tighter, feeling the rapid heartbeat thudding against his own.

“‘s alright.” Sirius murmurs softly in french. “ Rest, little lion.”

Sirius waves his hand, exhausted but coherent enough to conjure little spectors of soft, golden light. He feels Regulus’ face shift against his chest. The lights take the image of a tiny dog and cat that begin to play together in fanciful, dramatic movements. Sirius watches the display tiredly for a while until he feels Regulus slack against him, his chest slowly rising and falling. He can’t remember the last time Regulus slept in his bed. The distance between them felt like a chasm at times yet Regulus brought him to the Potters when he needed him most. Regulus hadn’t even visited their mother since they left.

Sirius didn’t have to spare Kreacher but he did for Regulus. It had to have meant something, Sirius thinks drowsily before he’s pulled back under.

Regulus isn’t there when Sirius wakes up the second time but the empty spot beside him is still toasty warm and wrinkled. Sirius stumbles out of bed, dragging his nails across his stomach as he meanders to his ensuite. He eyes the dark circles under his eyes in distaste as he passes the mirror. Sirius manages to wrestle in time for a shower, which is spent detangling his hair and sniffling quietly over the amount of product he has to use. He’s considered cutting it numerous times but he’s spiteful and he’ll be damned if he admits that his brother was right about the length being cumbersome.

Regulus is perched in an armchair when Sirius emerges, perfect and polished in his tailored charcoal robes. There’s a splash of navy along the inside that allows a subtle pop of color amongst his ensemble. A single curl drapes across his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome if a bit dour.

“I thought I’d have to wake you.” Regulus says, appearing pleased. 

“Small miracles. Would hate to wake up puking pus of questionable nature again.” Sirius sniffs in disdain, wandering to his closet.

“My better work, I assure you.” Regulus says, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. He straightens. “Hadrian and James are here as well. I invited them.”

Sirius snaps to him, mouth hanging open. “You did what?”

“You’ve had a difficult summer. I know you spend most of your time with the Potters. I am aware you’re only here for me and perhaps, papa. I know grandfather offered to let you stay with them for longer.” Regulus crosses his legs, sniffing. “I may not enjoy your friends but Hadrian is… a welcome addition. He has assured me he will act as a buffer for his buffoon of a cousin. It is the least I can do.”

“You do know I’m here because I want to be, don’t you?” Sirius asks. “I don’t mind being here. With any of you. It’s not a chore. Hell, we even got papa to be in the presence of muggles. He didn’t utter one slur the entire time! How wild is that?”

Regulus looks relieved. “Well, it’s too late. They’re here and will be accompanying us to the shops I wish to go to. I also have a reservation for lunch.”

“Is this… casual or are you just brooding because everyone else is brooding? Can I wear jeans?”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t. You’ll stand out more than you already do.” Regulus sighs. “Everyone is brooding, as you say.”

“Oh? Are you calling me distracting, brother? What will others say?” Sirius smirks. Regulus dismisses him, annoyed, with a flick of his fingers.

Sirius dries his hair and fingers through his wardrobe. He hates robes. They’re constrictive and clunky and not that Sirius thinks he’ll be fighting in the middle of Black Manor or public but the principle stands. He could wear the robe Hadrian gifted him but then he’d get a look and Sirius doesn't think he could handle it. Sirius shakes himself, much like a dog, cheeks warming. Distantly, he realizes he also wants to impress even if Hadrian has seen him appearing downright dreadful and crying on numerous occasions. James has seen him in infinitely worse situations. 

Sirius emerges just as Regulus begins to pace, which is hilarious considering his baby brother came to wake him up and decided to be social during prime sleep-in hours. Regulus skids to a halt, eying him sharply with visible approval and nods. Sirius’ robe matches Regulus, finely tailored, but instead of navy, there’s silver and the ends flare just slightly. He’s in a high collared white shirt that’s tucked into his trousers. They’re exceptionally tight, just a hair beneath scandalous. 

“I feel I deserve this.” Regulus says, watching Sirius drag on a pair of black, brogue boots. “Mother would have a conniption if she saw how capable you are of dressing yourself when you aren’t floundering about looking like a pigeon.”

Sirius laughs, flicking his hand and a series of silver rings adorn his fingers, offset by the platinum bracelet Hadrian had given him. “I did consider a crop top just to shit on you.”

“Heavens help me.” Regulus mutters.

“Oh but I do have this one maroon shirt.” Sirius hums happily. “Might complement you better.”

“We don’t need to complement one another.” Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Your current dramatics are enough.”

“Are you sure? We used to dress together before you became a little troll.” Sirius tilts his head. “It’s silky. Subtle sheen. Would pair nicely with the navy in your robes. Hmmm add in this one dark gray waistcoat I have….”

“Just because I refuse to resemble some hippie trollop does not make me a troll.” Regulus eyes him, considering. “Fine. Let me see it.”

After another 10 minutes of haggling, Sirius ends up in the maroon shirt (and the waistcoat, god) and Regulus has swapped his desolate black shirt for a finer fabric in a warm black and a silver chain. Sirius had masked his offense poorly at how surprised Regulus was at seeing the options in his wardrobe and pointedly did not compliment how good Regulus looked in his things. The smug smile Regulus directed his way after was telling however.

His grandfather is nowhere to be seen, and his father is apparently off fucking around with Alphard, which is not a friendship Sirius saw coming, but Ophelia is present. She guides them to a sitting room after gushing over their outfits. James spots them immediately from where he’s lounging on one of the chairs. He bounds up to Sirius excitedly, his usual disheveled hair moused and fairly tame. His robes have a deep golden yellow sewn along the interior that sets the cotton white shirt ablaze. Sirius does not gawk but it is a near thing because he has never seen his best friend this put-together.

“Oh, you dumb deer. Where are your glasses?” Sirius asks, laughing quietly.

James touches his face, gasping. “I was wondering why you looked like a smear. I thought it was the lack of sleep.”

“How did you know who it was me you were running up like some gazelle? You’re blind as fuck.”

James’ mouth twists in offense and outrage. “I can smell your magic, you mongrel. As if I wouldn’t be able to find you in a crowded room. Ridiculous.”

“Good thing I brought your glasses then. I thought you were trying to be coy.” Hadrian’s smooth tenor rings out. A pair of wire framed glasses are perched between his fingers from where he’s leaned against the entranceway of the sitting room. Deep, navy blue robes drape over his shoulders contrasting to the ivory shirt he’s wearing. His wrists and fingers have the usual spill of heir ring, gold watch and silver snake cuff that adorns his ring finger. Hadrian pushes off the wall, moving towards them in languid steps much like a predator toying with its food. Sirius tries not to stare but his gaze just keeps floating back. Hadrian winks at him. Sirius sharply looks away.

“I knew you liked me.” James beams, taking the glasses. He slides them onto his face. “Shit, Pads, you look great.”

“So do you.” Sirius says, blowing a raspberry. “Regulus talked me out of the crop top.”

Regulus makes a wounded noise.

“How dare he. Which one?” James asks, frowning.

“The sheer one from that one trip to muggle London.” Sirius tells him. “

James nods sagely. “Ah, probably for the best. It shows off your piercings so well it’s obscene. You’d really turn heads. Moony almost had a heart attack. Not to mention poor Peter when you showed up to his house in it. His mother was very interested.”

“A win is a win.” Sirius agrees mournfully. “Alas, the only older woman for me is Minnie.”

Hadrian clears his throat, cheeks a bit pink. “If you two are finished.”

“What piercings?” Regulus demands, eying Sirius’ ears. He stiffens. “There’s more?”

“Send me strength.” Hadrian mutters under his breath.

“I helped!” James proclaims proudly. “I did the left one. Sirius was looking a bit faint.”

“Shut up, Prongs. How did you not notice?” Sirius asks his brother. “I was just shirtless in front of you.”

Regulus sneers. “Do you expect me to gawk at your incredibly underweight physique? I am not our cousins. How anyone is interested in you despite your self destructive habits, I’ll never know.”

“He is very pretty.” Hadrian sighs, forlorn, and Sirius’ cheeks heat up.

“Very pretty indeed. Hey, he’s only a bit underweight now.” James says, affronted, hands on his hips. “Padfoot’s abs are, also, fantastic. They’re almost as good as mine.”

“Because he’s underweight, you goon.” Regulus argues heatedly. “Where are these piercings you apparently have?”

Hadrian makes a low noise. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“How would you know?” Regulus narrows his eyes at him. His cheeks redden. He glares at Sirius, aghast. “You said you weren’t dating! No wonder you spent hours in that damn shop!”

“Oh my god.” Sirius flushes deeply. “Wherever your mind went, bring it back. It’s my… my nips. And we didn’t spend hours! I only spent an hour!”

Regulus makes a strangled sound, eyes uncharacteristically wide. “Your what?!”

“I would give anything to remove myself from this conversation.” Hadrian says, staring distantly at a wall.

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Sirius says placidly. “I thought you had noticed.”

“They’re cute.” James chirps, which really isn’t helping the situation. “He let me pick the barbells. I got ones with little snitches on them. They’re for when we have parties.”

“You dumb deer.” Sirius sighs, sending James a sweet smile, which is returned with a wink.

“You… for?” Regulus forces his expression blank. “Enough talking. I have learned too much. Our reservation is at 12.”

Regulus sends Sirius a scathing look before sweeping out of the sitting room. It’s so close to a tantrum that it nearly sends Sirius into a fit of laughter. James titters from his side, eyes glittering with mirth, and he trails after with a lecherous grin at Hadrian. Hadrian shoots a hex at him that has James skittering into the hallway with a cackle. 

“Shameless.” Hadrian mumbles, tucking his wand into a holster on his wrist. 

“Seeing as you’re related, I’m sure it runs in the family.” Sirius quips. “Plus, you did call me pretty again.”

Hadrian sends him a look then smiles, sweet and a bit mean. “You are very pretty, Sirius Black.”

What a bastard, Sirius thinks, clearing his throat sharply as he fights the flush off his face. “I didn’t even know you were back in the country. Does your manor now have a new cat?”

“We returned early yesterday. Fortunately, it does not but it was a trying argument.” Hadrian says, eyes sparkling with enjoyment. “However, we do have a new addition who will be joining me this upcoming year.”

Sirius blinks, intrigued. “Oh? Am I not enough for you?”

“Flirt.” Hadrian huffs, eying the bracelet on Sirius’ wrist with visible pleasure. “Her name is Whisper. She’s a brat. I’m sure you’ll get along swimmingly.” 

“That tells me nothing. Do I get another hint?” Sirius asks, following Hadrian out of the room.

“She came from an egg. The last of her nest to be precise.” Hadrian tells him. “Her mother was slain, which would be impressive if not for the circumstances. The remaining eggs had been destroyed in the fight. She had been alone for some time.”

“That’s depressing.” Sirius admits quietly. “She wanted to come with you?”

Hadrian nods. “Demanded actually. I found it charming. Troublesome, little thing.”

“You seem to keep troublesome company.”

Hadrian hums, a private smile on his face. “I do. What shop did you drag your brother to?”

“Oh!” Sirius says excitedly, digging in his pockets, and drags Hadrian to a stop. He pulls out a pretty little, black box. “I got you something when we were in Rouen. I was going to send it but… I don’t know. I was nervous.”

“Sirius Black? Nervous? Unheard of with your general dramatics, undiagnosed attention disorder and general need to be a pain in my ass.” Hadrian hums, curious, taking the box when Sirius hands it to him. He pops the lid off, eyes softening with delight at the bracelet nestled inside.

“Who knew you had taste?” Hadrian purrs, sliding it onto his wrist. “If you keep this up, I will have to retaliate.”

Sirius pales, shaking his head fiercely. “You have bought me too much already!”

“Nonsense.” Hadrian waves his hand dismissively, continuing down the hallway. “If you continue to argue, you will be displeased with my response.”

“Fine. Fine.” Sirius hums, stepping easily in stride with Hadrian. “Oh, Peter informed me of a scandal involving you and some liquifying cunt.”

“Gryffindors are so dramatic. I thought I heard a squeak” Hadria flicks his fingers. “Mulciber and I had a simple disagreement is all. I’m surprised Peter even hung around that long seeing as he cows as soon as I simply look in his direction.” 

“Don’t bully Pete. That’s my job.” Sirius says, eyes catching Regulus looking exceptionally put out as James talks animatedly beside him. Sirius grabs Hadrian’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “You don’t have to defend me. I feel like things are probably hard enough for you down there.”

Hadrian smirks. “Cute. Think I can’t handle myself?”

“Oh, no. Definitely saying this for everyone else.” Sirius blinks.

“They either adapt or be turned inside out. Either way I am happy in my place as their judge, jury, and executioner.” Hadrian replies, tilting his head.

“Is your father this difficult?” Sirius squints, crossing his arms. “This dramatic?”

“Pot meet kettle.” Hadrian says blandly. 

“Is that what you all do down in the dungeon? Jerk off and come up with creative threats on how to disembowel your fellow students?”

Hadrian looks at him in faux shock, a hand on his chest. “You don’t?”

“I hate you,” Sirius laughs, nudging him. 

“You don’t.” Hadrian quips, his smile handsome and charming and Sirius can’t look away. He brings up his hand, displaying the serpent bracelet with pride. “You certainly don’t.”

No, Sirius thinks, distractedly. I don’t.

Chapter Text

Whisper was in fact, not a dog. Despite Hadrian’s hints, Sirius couldn’t fathom what kind of animal could come from an egg or be sassy based on Hadrian’s letters throughout the remaining weeks. Sirius tried to pry for more hints, much to no avail and Hadrian’s evident delight. Now he’s sitting in a compartment aboard the Hogwarts train, arms folded across his chest because this Whisper is nowhere to be seen.

Hadrian quirks an amused eyebrow, a book nestled in his lap. “Looking for something?”

They’re alone for now, James fluttering about in search of Evans and Peter. Remus will be returning separately as the full moon fell on today but Sirius doesn’t think he’d see him anyway. Regulus was making appearances to his gaggle of shits. However, notably, Severus Snape dropped by briefly if only to exchange a greeting with Hadrian and level Sirius with an unreadable look before leaving. Sirius did not know what to make of it. Hadrian found it immensely entertaining. 

“No.” Sirius lies.

Hadrian flips a page. “Mhmm.”

“James got to meet her. He wouldn’t even tell me what she was.” Sirius huffs.

“Don’t be jealous.” Hadrian marks a spot in his book and closes it. “You’re cute when you pout.”

“I am not pouting.” Sirius says, offended. 

“Sure.”

Sirius narrows his eyes. “I’m not jealous. James is your cousin. Of course, he’d meet your mysterious creature first and not tell me about it.”

“Oh, maus. If I knew you’d be this upset, I would’ve just brought you to the manor.” Hadrian chuckles, smoothing a finger along the collar of his shirt. He hisses softly in a strange manner and his shirt ripples in response. A serpent head emerges slowly followed by a lithe body of shimmering, iridescent blue scales. Whisper doesn’t quite look at him but Sirius can tell she knows exactly where he is, golden eyes dimmed under a glossy looking film. She is quite large and Sirius is a bit perplexed on how she fits in Hadrian’s shirt.

“Oh shit. I thought you just got more buff.” Sirius says dumbly. 

“I did notice you staring.” Hadrian says, amused.

“I wasn’t staring.” Sirius flushes, which is a damn lie. He was. “She’s very pretty.”

“Isn’t she?” Hadrian runs a gentle finger over her head. “Her control is phenomenal despite being quite young. She can be emotional.”

Whisper hisses low and long, slithering delicately along Hadrian’s shoulder before reeling upright. She remains there for a moment, forked tongue flickering out and hisses again.

“When were you going to tell me you were a parselmouth?” Sirius asks, a bit amazed. He’s thrown by this sudden piece of information. It wasn’t a common trait, even amongst darker houses. 

“It never seemed relevant. It’s a family trait. My father got shit for it when he was younger so I wasn’t really interested in advertising it.” Hadrian informs him. “She says you smell like a dog.”

“Damn.” Sirius says, wounded. “Does that mean she won’t like me? If it helps, I’ve only bodily tossed one snake as Padfoot and it was an accident. I apologized. Moony tricked me. I thought it was a stick.”

Hadrian hisses softly and Whisper turns to Sirius, eyes shuttering closed, then hisses.

“She didn’t mean it as an insult. She just meant you’re likely more warm than I am.”

“I do wear sweaters in the summer.” Sirius points out. “She’s welcome to try me out.”

Hadrian tells Whisper this and she immediately moves off Hadrian’s shoulder. Her body glistens in the light, scales shifting with each sinuous movement. Sirius has never held a snake before but he remains still, allowing Whisper to climb up his leg and burrow under his shirt. She’s incredibly smooth and cool and curls against his belly with a long hiss. Whisper is a strange weight in his lap and Sirius has to tug his sweater down more in order to cover her completely. Whisper hisses again. Fuck, Sirius thinks. Whisper is huge by snake standards. He’s never seen anything like her.

Hadrian laughs, responding to her shortly. “Whisper will not be emerging anytime soon.”

“My lap is the best place to rest. At least, James says so.” Sirius slouches a bit in his seat. “What is she? She’s huge. I’ve never seen a snake like her before. You said she was young so is she gonna triple in size or some shit? Eat a car?”

“A basilisk.” Hadrian tells him, opening his book again like he didn’t drop a piece of shocking news.

“Holy fuck. A what?” Sirius gasps loudly. “You’re shitting me. Is that even allowed?”

“I imagine so considering she’s my familiar and one of my ancestors had one as well.” Hadrian responds, procuring a quill from his bag. He writes a tiny note in the margins. “It’s already been addressed by my Head of House and our elusive Headmaster. Considering I have my own dorm, space shouldn’t be an issue as she grows. We’ve worked out her feeding as well. It won’t be another 4 years until she reaches maturity anyway. Perhaps 6. By then, I’ll have graduated.”

“I’ll have to get her snacks.” Sirius runs his hand along Whisper’s coiled form and her head brushes against his sternum. His grandfather would lose his shit over this revelation. Pépé had not so subtly been prying for more information about the Peverell heir, which felt weird considering Sirius knows the two talk regularly. Sirius narrows his eyes, suddenly suspicious. He can’t think of anyone of marrying age in his family aside from Bellatrix. I’ll just have to kill her, Sirius thinks grimly.

“You’ll spoil her.” Hadrian tsks.

“Sorry?” Sirius turns to Hadrian, confused.

Hadrian gives him a slow smile. “I said you’ll spoil her.”

“Jealous? I’d buy you more shit but you take it as a challenge. My wardrobe has suffered enough.”

“Do be silent.” Hadrian says with a laugh. “Lest I involve your father, or perhaps your grandfather. They would love to overhaul your entire stock.”

“Then what will the ladies look at when James and I sneak into clubs? What would you look at?” Sirius flips his hair, smiling widely. “Don’t be jealous, Hazza. I’m sure you’d look incredibly fine in my clothes.”

Hadrian looks at him, cheeks lightly dusted, his pupils dilating slightly. Cute, Sirius thinks, chuckling softly. Hadrian glares weakly at him, eyes returning to his book. Sirius could easily picture Hadrian amongst muggles, dressed sharply with that easy grace of his, a pretty girl on his arm. Sirius doesn't particularly enjoy that complete image but he’s always felt a bit possessive of his friends, especially James. If Lily Evans wasn’t such a charming, wickedly clever witch, Sirius might’ve given her a harder time. 

However, Sirius just doesn’t want Hadrian with anyone. A strange notion but not necessarily unwarranted. Sirius enjoyed his presence immensely. He didn’t want to share it. Definitely not with fucking Bellatrix. He’d have to write his grandfather. Sirius would surely lose his wits in a matter of hours if such a thing occurred.

Sirius leans against the window, “It’s your last year.”

A scratch of Hadrian’s quill. “Indeed. Sentimental?”

“I feel like I just got you.” Sirius admits softly. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Sirius.” Hadrian replies, eyes flickering up to meet his. “Besides, in a year, you may just be ready for me to graduate.”

Sirius laughs but his heart isn’t in it. He’s had a few older friends prior but their correspondence became less and less as their time in adult life adjusted. Marriages, children, seats at the Wizengamot. Sirius knows this is the year that marriage contracts typically go out or negotiations start. It feels bitter to acknowledge that Lord Peverell might already have families in mind for his son, if he believed in such a thing.

Hadrian was well adjusted, confident, top of his year and came from an incredibly old family. He was also the last of his family line unless Lord Peverell was determined to have more children, which wasn’t likely. Sirius tilts his head, peeking outside to see a thrum of birds careening towards open water. Whisper’s forked tongue darts against his chin and Sirius starts a bit, not realizing she had moved. He rubs at her form, softened by the fabric of his sweater. 

“Does your dad have anyone in mind for you?”

Hadrian turns a page. “For what?”

“Marriage.” Sirius looks at him. “Prospects and all that. It’s why my mom and I got into it.”

“Ah,” Hadrian doesn’t look up, expression unreadable. “My father has spoken to me about it. Well, I have spoken to him about it. He doesn’t particularly care but he knows it matters to me and what I want for my future as his heir. Do I need to marry? No. But I would like to continue his line as thanks for what he’s given me.”

“Oh.” Sirius says a bit crestfallen. “Is it the person you said you were interested in?”

“Yes. It has been a trying endeavor. They’re painfully obtuse.” Hadrian snorts, turning a page in his book. “I’m in no hurry, however. There are other details to work out. I also have to contact the Lord of their house, which… won’t be difficult considering I believe he enjoys my current correspondence.”

“You’re already talking to their dad?” Sirius frowns, pouting. “That’s thorough.”

“It’s not their father.” Hadrian chuckles. “I have spoken to their father, yes, but that’s not who the lord of their house is.”

“I guess it’s not unusual.” Sirius mutters. “Does he know you’re interested?”

Hadrian snorts. “I think he is trying to subtly gauge my interest now that he knows I’m close with his heir. I have not denied anything. I admit I was… curious before but this summer has solidified it. It was an unexpected change on my part but emotions are rarely convenient.”

“Will you tell me who it is?” Sirius asks, feeling more and more distressed as the conversation continues.

Hadrian looks up at him then, eyes narrowed, and the sun catches the green in them spectacularly. “I think it’s fairly obvious. Do you have anyone in mind? I’m sure your grandfather would be willing to take your opinions into consideration.”

Sirius considers this. He doesn’t know what he’d want in a relationship. James was so sure of Lily Evans, Peter chased any skirt that moved, and Remus disregarded anything and everything due to his affliction. Sirius, himself, was popular, sure, and he’s slept with a fair number but he’s never dated anyone beyond an occasional Hogsmeade visit and then there were those wild rumors of him and Marlene in the Quidditch pitch during 4th year, which was, in reality, the two of them with a bottle of Firewhiskey and a bunch of muggle fashion magazines. 

If he’s honest, Sirius doesn’t think anyone would want to deal with him so long but he’s also never let anyone try. His family is a dark mess that no one wants to touch unless they’re looking for grandeur. He’s too much, prideful, terrible temper. Beautiful but erratic, his mother would say. Even James couldn't be bothered to deal with him when he reached certain levels. That wasn’t James’ fault though. It was no one’s fault but his own. Sirius wishes he didn’t feel so resigned all the time. Anisa said he was depressed. Sirius kindly told her to fuck off. 

Sirius turns his attention back to Hadrian, his quiet presence, how his fingers glide along the edges of his book before he turns a page. I want someone like you, tolerant, present even when we’re miles apart, Sirius thinks suddenly. It’s like flipping a switch. He feels his entire face turn hot in realization. This is somehow infinitely worse and incredible. It makes complete sense. Hadrian has settled so seamlessly into Sirius’ life as if he had always been there. Sirius straightens, eyes wide and a bit crazed. Holy shit, Sirius thinks. Hadrian shoots him a pitying smile, expression cradled with amusement.

The compartment door smacks open loudly and Whisper hunkers down into his lap. Sirius cradles a hand around her body to prevent her from spilling onto the floor. He’d be annoyed if he wasn’t suddenly so grateful to be taken away from his thoughts and this conversation. James is standing in the entryway with a wide grin and arms full of trolley snacks. Hadrian writes a note in his book with a snort.

“You startled Whisper, Prongs.” Sirius admonishes and James looks instantly apologetic.

“Shit. I forgot.” He says, closing the door gently behind him. “Peter’s with some Ravenclaw. Apparently they’ve been talking this summer and he’s interested to know more insight on how wards can be recreated to blah, blah, blah. He gave me a look so I scattered like the good pal I am.”

“How noble.” Sirius laughs. “If only Peter applied some of what he’s learned from these incredibly smart women he hangs around, then he’d have top marks.”

James nods, dumping his load between himself and Hadrian. He digs around in his pocket, pulling out a very deceased bird and Sirius gags. “For Whisper. I meant to catch it alive but my spell was too… aggressive.”

Hadrian snorts. “I’d say I’m surprised but I’ve watched your games.”

“You’ve come to my games?” James’ eyes sparkle, touched.

“I’m your cousin. Of course I do. I just refuse to sit with your rowdy crew.” Hadrian waves him off, hissing lowly. Whisper pokes her head out of Sirius’ sweater, appearing immensely displeased. She eyes the bird in James’ hand before rearing up, interested, flexing against Sirius’ skin. James tosses it to her and Whisper snatches it out of the air with deadly precision. It’s a surreal experience, watching her swallow, then feeling it himself. Sirius shudders, disgusted, and Hadrian smothers a laugh into his hand. Whisper settles against Sirius’ collarbone. The bird slowly descends inside her. She looks incredibly smug for a snake. Sirius finds himself charmed if not a bit ill.

“This must be what pregnancy feels like.” Sirius says with a grimace.

“What a weird take.” James tears into a chocolate frog. “At least, she likes you. Whisper never stays on me.”

“I’m just better than you.” Sirius informs him, rubbing Whisper’s head. “Ugh, I can feel it inside her. This is so weird.”

Whisper hisses softly.

“Get used to it. She enjoys her people.” Hadrian turns a page. 

Marlene eventually turns up with Dorcas and Peter in tow. It becomes a rowdy affair due to Peter’s freshly swollen mouth and flushed cheeks. Whisper is incredibly tolerable to Sirius’ excited movements but he also keeps a hand under her to keep her settled. Hadrian ends up between Sirius and the window, his book a bit bruised in the corners much to his evident displeasure. It’s all in german with little pictures of monstrous creatures and flowers. Sirius thinks it may be a poetry book due to how the prose is structured.

“Did you get a snake, Siri?” Marlene asks, settled on Dorcas’ lap, much to her girlfriend’s displeasure.

“I think she got me.” Sirius says, alternating between rubbing the slight crease in between Whisper’s eyes and catching jelly beans in his mouth. He gags, spitting one of them out immediately. It hits Peter square in the face. “Fucking hell. Shit, sorry, Pete.”

“What flavor was it?” James asks, reaching up to take the glob off of Peter’s face and popping it into his mouth. He immediately gags. “Vomit?”

“Did you just put Sirius’ chewed jelly bean in your mouth?” Marlene asks, awed.

“That does not taste like vomit.” Sirius says petulantly. “Maybe it’s a booger.”

“You’d prefer vomit over a booger?” Hadrian asks, amused. He wipes Sirius’ face with the sleeve of his robe. “You’re drooling again.”

“You are.” Peter agrees before Sirius can argue, looking sullen. “Will you wipe my face too?”

Hadrian bares his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “Come here then.”

Peter looks sufficiently cowed, wiping his own face. James frowns thoughtfully, still working out the flavor.

“I think Potter is having an aneurysm.” Dorcas comments mildly.

“I think it’s a mispick. Or someone fucked up. I’m getting hints of earwax.” James says aloud, still frowning. “It’s not good.”

“God, why do I endure this?” Hadrian mutters and Dorcas sighs heavily in sympathy. 

“Oooh.” Marlene coos, eying Hadrian. “Read to us, baby death. I’m sure even German sounds good in that voice of yours.”

“That’s offensive, Marlene.” Dorcas notes from underneath her, writing quickly onto a piece of parchment that’s pressed into her girlfriend’s back.

“I’ve tried asking Hazza to read to me.” James bemoans, now draped across Peter’s lap. “He said,” James clears his throat and his voice takes on a deeper quality. “Potter, if you bother me over this one more time. I will merge your balls into your face.”

Dorcas smirks, “He’s done it before so I wouldn’t take it as an idle threat.”

Peter straightens up quickly. “You did what?”

“Who?!” James cries, clamoring into Peter’s lap.

Sirius nudges him, grinning. “Rosier again?”

“What happened to Rosier?” James asks, thrown.

“Hazza vanished his legs last term.” Sirius tells them. Marlene looks incredibly charmed.

Peter pales, “That was you?”

“Why are you surprised, Pete? You watched him liquify Mulciber.” James hisses, shaking Peter a bit.

“That was you?” Marlene gasps, delighted. “Dorcas told me but she wouldn’t say who the culprit was.”

Hadrian shoots Dorcas a look and she ignores him, cheeks warm. “Did she now? Surprised that gaggle of dumbasses said anything at all.”

“I wouldn’t. How embarrassing.” Peter mutters.

“What else can you do?” James chirps. “Is your dad this violent?”

“Oh, look,” Hadrian says pleasantly. “We’re here.”

The train had indeed stopped, a carroll of voices ringing through the air as students clamor to unload. Lily ends up popping by their compartment, her smile radiant and pleasant. Her red hair is pulled into an intricate braid that cascades over one shoulder. Hadrian gestures to their group.

“Take your lions and Meadowes with you. I’ve had enough.”

Lily chuckles warmly. “Only if you help manage them.”

“If I must.” Hadrian sighs, rising to his feet. 

“Do you want Whisper?” Sirius asks, moving to shrink down his trunk. Whisper curls around his abdomen as he moves. It’s then he notices R.A.B carved into the silver lock. He sighs, wondering if they somehow got mixed up, shrinks it, and tucks it into his robes.

Hadrian looks at him, Whisper coiled around his neck with her head burrowed against his chest, hidden under his sweater, and shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward. Marlene bounds out the compartment, her arms linked between Lily and Dorcas as she asks about Lily’s summer. James stares after them, starry eyed, and morose.

“I’m going to look for Reg.” Sirius tells them, patting his pocket. “I have his trunk.”

“Hopefully he has yours.” Peter says cheerfully.

“I have his.” Hadrian informs them. “You were complaining.”

“Oh yeah.” Sirius perks up. “I feel like you offered. Or just took away my chance to choose and just kept it to yourself.”

“You keep him spoiled.” James admonishes, grinning a bit too wide.

“Do I?” Hadrian smiles, mean and sharp, and James fans himself, fluttering his lashes.

“Don’t you two start.” Peter whines, pushing his way out the compartment. 

James winks at Sirius. “He’s just jealous.”

“Of what?” Sirius asks. 

Hadrian shoves James out before he can answer, shooting Sirius a threatening smile before he follows them. Sirius huffs, confused, and shifts his collar to cover Whisper a bit more. She hisses softly against him, her body tightening a bit where it’s wrapped around his torso.

Sirius searches the train for Regulus, knowing his little brother would be too embarrassed to seek him out amongst the thickening school crowd. He finds him near the end of the train, unfortunately with Crouch and Rosier, but fortunately not Mulciber lest they have a repeat of nasal fractures. Crouch grins at him, a bit seedy, a bit loose, while Rosier openly sneers. Regulus looks relieved if a bit nervous, which is hilarious because Sirius isn’t the one who used to hex his friends in the back. He prefers a direct approach. 

“Glad to see you weren’t offed, Black.” Crouch says pleasantly. “Figured you’d go in a more dramatic way.”

Sirius isn’t quite sure how he feels about Barty but he knows his dad’s a dick and he hates him almost as Sirius hates his mom. Plus, he’s a bit of a shit and that charms some rebellious part of Sirius’ soul. The summer has clearly done him favors, his dark hair now streaked with highlights of blonde and his septum is pierced. Sirius pretends not to notice how Regulus’ gaze lingers on him. This may also be why he doesn’t mind Crouch.

Sirius smirks, “If it isn’t war crime related, I would do myself a grave injustice.”

Crouch laughs, delighted.

Sirius turns to Regulus, procuring his brother’s shrunken trunk. “I don’t know how I got this.”

“Your panicked packing most likely.” Regulus sniffs, taking the trunk from him. “How you’ve made it this far, I’ll never know.”

“Spite probably.” Crouch nods sagely. “No wonder your mother remains so pressed.”

“Most def.” Sirius agrees. “Mommy dearest likes my spark.”

“I’m sure that’s not all she likes.” Rosier scoffs derisively. 

Regulus bristles.

Sirius coos, smile nasty. “Careful, Rosier. I don’t need to vanish your bones to tell you to fuck off.”

His magic sparks in the air, vibrant and burning. Rosier is on his feet instantly, wand drawn, mouth twisted in embarrassment. His skin is flushed with anger and he wears it poorly. Whisper whips out of Sirius’ shirt sharply with a terrifying, warning hiss, fangs bared, her eyes sealed shut. Her control is truly remarkable, stance intimidating and posed for violence. Rosier rears back clumsily as Crouch roars with laughter. Sirius rubs her spine soothingly, a bit embarrassed to be defended. Whisper flicks her tongue, hissing slowly before slithering back into her spot around Sirius’ neck. She doesn’t burrow again, settling against the side of his face much like Boo does.

“Evan, where is your Slytherin pride?” Crouch wheezes. “It’s just a snake.”

“It’s a fucking basilisk, you idiot.” Rosier hisses, a hand clasped over his eyes.

“You’d be dead already if she had any real intent.” Sirius snorts. “Though she does interrupt the satisfaction of breaking your wand off in your ass again.”

“Come off it. Both of you. No way they’d let a basilisk at the school.” Crouch snorts, looking at Regulus. “Did you get one too? Cause this,” He flicks a hand to Sirius. “I wasn’t expecting.”

“It must be someone’s familiar. The charter wouldn’t allow it otherwise.” Regulus manages a remarkably straight face. He studies Whisper for a long moment. “It’s not his.”

“She’s mine.” Hadrian’s voice startles all of them. “James says you’re taking too long. He’s currently threatening everyone trying to sit in the carriage.”

Sirius grins, fixing his collar. “He couldn’t tell me that himself?”

“Evans.” Hadrian quips as if that’s the only explanation Sirius needs, which it is. His eyes flicker over them, assessing and lingers a moment on Rosier pressed into the far corner of the compartment. Rosier does not meet his eye. Hadrian turns to Sirius, hissing softly, and Whisper looks at him with a low hiss, unimpressed. Hadrian rolls his eyes and stares at her. It lasts less than 30 seconds before Whisper makes a truly terrifying rattling noise in Rosier’s direction and curls around Sirius’ neck, face hidden under his hair, seemingly put out.

“Brat.” Hadrian mutters. Whisper hisses again, a bit sharper this time and he laughs.

“Don’t bully her.” Sirius nudges him, eyes narrowed and rubs Whisper’s spine. “I know that face. You make it when you bully me.”

“You both deserve it.” Hadrian quips easily.

“What the fuck,” Crouch manages, staring at Hadrian with awe. “Are you a snake charmer?” 

“Runs in the family. Once every 300 years, a child is born and forced into learning the intricate arts of charming serpents and the occasional lizard.” Hadrian deadpans. 

“He’s a parselmouth, you idiot.” Regulus sighs deeply.

“Taking Slytherin traits a bit too literally.” Crouch mutters. “Next thing you know, I’ll be wearing tiaras and mysteriously disappear.”

Hadrian grabs Sirius’ arm and guides him away, “As Salazar’s other existing heir, I’m expected as much.”

“I never knew that.” Sirius says, trailing after him.

“Did you think the snake ring was for shits and giggles?” Hadrian laughs. They’re halfway off the train when the weight of Hadrian’s words seem to register fully. Barty Crouch Jr could be heard by those on the train and on the platform, startling many first years in the process, as he screamed, “what”.

Chapter Text

“Why are you sulking now?” James says, his homework forgotten on the table.

Sirius looks up from his potions essay, grateful for a distraction even if he doesn’t want to have this conversation. His dorm is cozy warm from the crackling fireplace. It casts little shadows against the walls that dance merrily. Sirius settles onto his hands, knees bumping the conjured, low table situated in front of him. He was delighted that James wanted to spend time with him but it clearly came with ulterior motives and eyebrow raises, which Sirius already doesn’t appreciate.

It’s nearly two weeks into the new term and Sirius is officially over it. He did see Remus but they hadn’t talked beyond a simple greeting. It was so awkward and painful that Sirius really just wanted to press hard until Remus started shouting at him again. But Sirius didn’t want to make things worse and Anisa would be proud of his restraint even if it did result in him setting a table on fire after. Progress, Sirius thinks, ignoring James’ probing look. 

“Not sure what you mean, Prosngise.” Sirius says, balancing his quill on his nose. “I’m here. Innocent. Doing homework. Someone call the Prophet. I’ve clearly lost my mind.”

James sighs deeply, bracing himself on the table between them. “You’ve been sulking since lunch. Specifically after spending the entire time glaring at the Slytherin table.”

“Sounds about right.” Sirius responds, evasive.

James hums thoughtfully. “Specifically at a certain 7th year and his new, 6th year companion.”

Sirius scoffs, quill dropping to the floor. “I wasn’t glaring at Hadrian. Nor was I paying attention to who he was with. I don’t care if he’s suddenly friends with Eileen Parkinson. That has nothing to do with me.” 

“I thought you didn’t know who I was referring too.”

Sirius points his quill at James threateningly. “Stop.”

“Oh, Pads.” James smiles sweetly. “You’re so dumb.”

“What! I’m smart! I am going to snatch Snape’s 3rd place running if it fucking kills me.” Sirius scowls, gripping his quill tightly. He glares furiously at his essay. “God, I hate potions so fucking much.”

“Snape, hm?” James asks, sliding his piece of parchment along the table. “What happened to Snivellous? Greasy bastard? Oily Barnacle?”

“Ugh, fuck off.” Sirius mutters. He does not tell James that he will actually be approaching Snape at some point to, god, apologize. Sirius hadn’t even told Hadrian knowing he’d be insufferable over it but fuck, he wronged two people in one swoop. Sirius doesn’t think he could get away with sliding a threat in there somewhere but he does feel bad about using Remus as a weapon of destruction even if Snape is a nosy bastard. Sirius wasn’t sure if he wanted him dead, he just wanted him to fuck off but hell, he could’ve done it himself. 

Sirius rubs his throbbing temples and counts to 25, then counts backwards. Hadrian said they were similar but Sirius wasn’t hanging around with a bunch of blood purists and vapid racists. Mulciber was truly something rotten. But his brother was also hanging around with a bunch of blood purists and vapid racists. Guess I’ll deck him in the face when it comes to it, Sirius thinks tiredly. 

“Seems like something Hadrian asked you to do.” James says. 

“Enough!” Sirius whines, accidentally leaning against his essay. He groans, lifting his arm to see the words half smeared and ineligible. His arm wears the matching stain. Sirius whimpers, shoving it away, and throws himself to the floor. James laughs at him, eyes lit up with overwhelming glee. Not unusual and clearly James Potter has found entertainment. Sirius would be pleased if the supposed entertainment was not him.

Sirius is not amused. He has to start over his essay. Though it is due in a week, it is the principle and James wants to talk about Eileen Parkinson. He doesn’t even know where she sprouted from with her silky long hair and blue eyes. Something clearly changed in the Slytherin households because some of them just came back to term stunning. Eileen was so frustratingly pretty that Sirius could see exactly why Hadrian would be interested but fuck.  

Sirius idly wonders if the person Hadrian was interested in turned him down. A laughable notion but even gods weep over nothing sometimes. Wait, maybe Eileen was the person. It would explain her sudden appearance, the talking, her pressing into Hadrian’s space. Sirius fumes quietly. He could take her, wand or not. Not everything is violence, Anisa would say. Not every tramp needs to be in Hadrian’s face, Sirius thinks hotly.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Pads.” James tells him, taking Sirius’ ruined essay. “Who knows? She may have a crush on you. She gets googly eyes whenever you walk into class. Plenty of girls do. Some dudes too but meh. I’m not looking at dudes.”

“Please, stop. That would be weird. I barely know her.” Sirius mutters petulantly. “I don’t care. He can be friends with whoever. Date whoever. Whatever.”

“I’ll stop when you admit you’re jealous.”

“I’m not interested in Parkinson.”

“Funny how you thought I was referring to Eileen.”

“Fine. Yes, I like him. I like him alot and I want to deck Parkinson in her pretty face.” Sirius snaps furiously. “I want to drag him into the nearest closet and choke on his dick. Is that what you want to hear?”

“God. Finally!” James shouts, slamming his hands on the table. “Fucking yes, Padfoot. That is what I want to hear!”

Sirius was not expecting that and immediately deflates.

“Hazza deserves better than me.” He says bitterly. “I’m still doing magic exercises like a damn child. I bet Eileen doesn’t do magic exercises. Hadrian uses wandless torture spells. I can’t even disarm properly without my wand now.”

“Don’t fucking start.” James hisses, looking offended. “So your magic is still a bit wonky. Who the fuck cares? In fact, I think it’s pretty badass you nearly took off someone’s wand arm.”

Sirius promptly turns into Padfoot and whimpers, earning another laugh. He curls into a ball and hides his face in the crook of his stomach. If McGonagall hadn’t known about his situation, he certainly would’ve gotten detention. Hell, he was still apologizing to Mary and it’s been days. James joins him shortly, running his long fingers through his fur and settles his head on top of his spine.

“This will be the last thing I say and I’ll leave you alone.” 

It is not a promising start. Sirius whines.

“When you got hurt this summer, I told you how scary my cousin was when he found out the details. But I never told you about how scared he felt. I could see it in his eyes, in his magic.” James lays on top of him, glasses smooshed. “It reminded me of when I was younger and my mom nearly got hit by a truck when we were in muggle London. Dad about broke the statute of secrecy.”

“Hadrian is so soft with you, Pads. Softer than with anyone else. Well, I haven’t met his dad yet but I don’t think dads count.” James laughs and it rumbles through Sirius. “You’re so loud. You take up so much attention and space but you never let anyone know you. I guess aside from me and the boys. Maybe Marlene. I’ve seen you go through so many girls and dudes but you just aren’t there. It barely lasts a few weeks and you’ve already checked out before they can piece you together.”

Sirius huffs, annoyed. What did he do to deserve being read like this?

“He’s seen your parts, Pads. You should just tell him.” James says softly. “And if it turns out he does like Eileen, we can set her on fire.”

Sirius barks, tail sweeping rapidly across the floor, earning a low laugh. James keeps his promise of not saying anything else. Sirius wishes James was in chatterbox mood because now he must sit with these thoughts and musings in silence. But James simply settles on top of him, his breathing going long and even after a while. Luckily, Sirius is a dog and everything is smaller and less fraught and wild so he dozes a bit, listening to the quiet snores of James on his back. It lasts about an hour, perhaps longer but James eventually wakes up and leaves with a soft kiss to Sirius’ forehead and a loving scratch behind his ears.

Sirius does get up, eventually, and leaves his room feeling dour. He waves cheerfully to a few first years who greet him. Sirius considers visiting the owlery but Boo has been exceptionally bossy recently and he’d like to keep his hair in the braid it’s currently in. Sirius finds a spot behind one of the herbology greenhouses that sits near Black Lake. He can see steam billowing out from Hagrid’s chimney and his large form bustling about inside. Sirius should probably visit him soon, perhaps with a snack or those mini eclairs Hagrid enjoys.

The water glimmers in front of him, inviting and charming and Sirius is tempted to turn into Padfoot and chase his tail until he collapses. His stomach grumbles. Sirius ignores it, bringing his knees to his chest. He burrows his chin into his sweater and breathes. The world moves around him in quiet strokes of time. There’s so much to do, so much expected and yet, he sits here like he isn’t the heir of an ancient house, like his grades don’t matter, that nothing matters not even him. Sometimes he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn’t reached out to his grandfather. 

Regulus would make a fine head of house.

Hogwarts would continue to churn out gifted witches and wizards.

“Oh! Sirius, is that you?”

Sirius looks up and meets Lily’s freckled face, her glimmering eyes stunning and evergreen and just like Hadrian’s. He can easily see what James does; her willowy frame and long fiery hair. But what Sirius appreciates most is her smile, always so sweet, so kind. Lily is a few feet away from him, wrapped tightly in her school sweater. He pats the spot beside him and she eagerly accepts the invitation, relieved.

“It’s the best spot, isn’t it?” Lily sighs, settling beside him. “I always come here at the beginning of term. There was a spot that used to sprout spider lilies almost near the bank. It hasn’t in a long time but it did in my first year. So I come back here every year.”

“I’ve never seen a spider lily.” Sirius tells her.

“I’m sure someone was using magic to grow them as they aren’t native here. They’re beautiful.” Lily lights up, bringing out her wand. She plucks a few pieces of grass, waves her wand in slow movements and the blades form together into two small clusters. They’re a vivid, bright red with long, feathery petals. Small antlers dip in the center.

“They represent a lot of things,” Lily tells him. “But I see them as rebirth. My first year was so scary despite how exciting it was. I was the first witch in my family. Magic is beautiful and incredible but I had to make sacrifices to accept it.”

“Your family?” Sirius asks, gingerly touching a petal.

Lily tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “My sister. My parents were very proud but Petunia,” She sighs softly. “We never recovered. She won’t return my letters even if I risk using muggle post options. Our summers that once held so much fun and laughter are cold. She barely talks to me. I love magic but I love my sister too.”

“I’m sorry.” Sirius says quietly. “I… You know I have a brother. Regulus. Sometimes I feel like our values are too different. That we’re too different. When we’re home, we’re ok, but when we’re here it’s like all bets are off. I’m afraid, one day, I’ll have to make a decision to leave him behind. Or he’ll go somewhere I can’t follow.”

“That sounds really complicated.”

Sirius shrugs. “Sometimes I think he feels guilty for what I bring onto myself. Sometimes I think he hates me for it but I love my brother.”

“Hopefully, it’s enough.” Lily says, handing Sirius a spider lily.

“Hopefully, it is for the both of us.”

Lily sits with him for a long time, silence passing between them like an old friend. Her magic fades and the flowers transform back into grass. She blows her blade into the air, whispering silently like a prayer, and squeezes Sirius’ arm tightly before she leaves. Sirius watches her go, the last remnants of sunset catching her hair like a beacon. He hopes Lily can rest things with her sister, he hopes Regulus continues to stay in his gaze. Sirius lets the grass slip between his fingers.

A familiar warmth settles beside him after a while, that low buzzing of brittle magic, and Sirius leans against Hadrian, head resting on his shoulder. Whisper is absent from her usual place along Hadrian’s collarbones but Sirius can’t find that he minds too much. There’s a high pitched shriek that fills the air, followed by a carol of laughter coming from the castle. Hadrian loops his arm around Sirius’ waist. They’re touching from hip to side to the point of Sirius’ head and Hadrian’s shoulder and he really wants to never leave. 

What a frightening thought.

“I ruined my potions essay.” Sirius admits softly.

Hadrian hums in acknowledgement. He smells so good and his magic feels even better.

“James is harassing me.”

“He is good at that.” Hadrian replies easily. “I saw you pouting like a little, ruffled bird at lunch today.”

Sirius huffs, “I don’t pout. I just don’t understand Eileen Parkinson. You have plenty of friends… companions… whatever it is you call each other down there.”

“It is interesting timing. She wanted my advice. Funnily enough I don’t intend to give it to her.” Hadrian says, his voice colored with amusement. 

“Oh? She doesn’t want your baby death babies?” Sirius asks bitterly.

“No. Considering she has a crush on you, I’m assuming she wants yours. Apparently, her father is interested in sending forward a proposal to Lord Black despite your general attitude and demeanor.”

Sirius rears back, shocked. He flounders a bit, cheeks hot, and scrambles for a response. James’ words come back with a strange clarity but none of it makes sense, the situation makes no sense. Sirius wants to punch the air, maybe run around like a fucking fool because at least Eileen Parkinson is not interested in Hadrian. Hadrian watches him, level, sure as he always is and Sirius turns away quickly, staring absently at the lake stretched before them.

“Uhm. Sweet?” Sirius manages. It’s also hard to concentrate with Hadrian’s hand on his hip. Focus, Sirius thinks, shaking himself a bit.

“Oblivious.” Hadrian says.

“She said that?” Sirius asks, looking at him. “I forgot she existed until today.”

“If only the women of this school realized how oblivious you are. In fairness, I guess they could see your… nature as just not being interested despite rampant rumors and numerous detentions on your part.” Hadrian tilts his head, considering. “From my perspective, it’s always been there but she feels brave enough to pursue it. It’s a delicate time for betrothals seeing as you are still the Black heir. I believe she saw me as an in.”

“I don’t understand. We hardly interacted before.” Sirius frowns.

“A lot of people are charmed by you, Sirius Black, but you’re intimidating. They look when they think no one else notices. When they know you would not notice.” Hadrian says easily.

“How would you know how they look at me?” Sirius asks, thrown and conflicted because fuck, maybe he is actually an idi-

“Because I look at you the same way.” Hadrian’s words interrupt his thoughts so sharply that Sirius chokes. He faces him fully, wide eyed and panicked and holy shit, he wants this day to be over. Deep down, he’s elated but panicked. A patch of grass explodes in front of them, startling Sirius as he struggles to keep his emotions underwraps. His magic practically preens and god, it’s embarrassing as hell.

Hadrian smirks, all mirth and resolute.

“You… What?” Sirius breathes.

“Oblivious.” Hadrian hums, rising to his feet. “Come. If you miss another dinner, Kee will string you up by your ears.”

“Wait,” Sirius scrambles to his feet, grabbing Hadrian’s arm when he starts to walk off. His mind is throbbing with the onslaught of information he’s received today. Lily. James. Hadrian. Fucking Kee and her threats. James. Hadrian. Sirius is at a loss. He feels like a maiden in a drama of some kind who has to make decisions or save cats from trees. Fuck, has he been flirting this entire time?

“I’m sorry.” Sirius says, morose.

Hadrian appears helplessly amused, which is daunting. “Why? Are you turning me down?”

“What? No! I…” Sirius is honestly so happy he could die but he feels miserable and aching. “I’m nothing. I don’t understand. I’m not even a good person. I’m barely a person.”

A mistake, a burden, a parasitic worm. I’ve tricked you into thinking I’m something I’m not like I’ve tricked apparently everyone, Sirius thinks desperately because what kind of person does this to someone he claims to be a friend. Hadrian could do so much better. Sirius could easily imagine how many stuffy pureblood houses would look past his blood status simply to get their hands on his family name.

“I disagree.” Hadrian states simply. “I can see your mind working into whatever spiral you’ve currently latched onto. Curious that you still continue to accept righteous justice on behalf of others but never yourself. I blame Walburga, personally. If I see that woman on the streets, well. It would be improper.”

Hadrian steps neatly into his space and clasps a hand against the base of Sirius’ neck, eyes darkening. His hand is so, so warm and distracting and Sirius wants him to never let go. “You’re afraid. That’s understandable. I chose you knowing who you are, Sirius Black. No amount of self doubt will change that. No amount of magic could change that. I do not mind you.”

“Ok.” Sirius wheezes. It’s an embarrassing noise because it is, in fact, not ok.

“Oh, maus. If I wasn’t so charmed, I’d curse you mercilessly.” Hadrian chuckles, stepping back. “I don’t expect an answer today. I’m sure you need time to cycle through emotions and likely overthink everything. As I’ve mentioned, I’m patient.”

Sirius pauses, mouth dropping open. “Oh my god, you’ve been talking about me! To Prongs! With the conversations and the… That’s why he kept.. And on the train… Oh my god.” He whimpers helplessly. 

“Oblivious.” Hadrian agrees.

“Oh my god. This means I can finally suck your dick.” Sirius blurts out and immediately wants to explode. Another patch of grass does, in fact, explode. He stares, Hadrian stares back, mouth open, eyebrows raised high. A dark look passes over his face, heavy and smoldering and it lights Sirius’ insides on fire. Sirius can practically taste his magic as the temperature drops sharply around them.

Then there’s a pop and a murderous looking Kee stands before them, her hands on her tiny hips. Sirius is so startled he might’ve screamed. He doesn’t even have time to mourn the loss of the moment because Kee is on him like a predator. Hadrian grins the entire time Kee berates Sirius for not showing up for dinner.

Chapter Text

The strangest part of being confessed to by your best friend’s cousin, who could also be called your best friend, is that nothing changed. Sirius is self aware enough to know if he found himself in a similar situation, he’d be offended to have confessed to someone who didn’t immediately respond to his feelings. A wild thought to an even wilder situation because now he’s examining Hadrian’s actions under a microscope and Sirius, himself, is pleased and fluttery. So thrilled that he’s seconds away from doodling their initials into a tree somewhere.

It’s unbecoming. But Sirius has never been very sane to begin with all the inbreeding and general lack of hugs in his childhood. For all his blustered confidence, Sirius had not seen this coming. He might’ve subconsciously dreamed of this day but to experience it? No. They aren’t even to Yule and Sirius has already managed to upend himself from his friend group, maim himself and his family home by extension, and realize he does have feelings for a Slytherin of all people. Perhaps even strong ones based on his reactions to Eileen Parkinson moving in on his territory.

James has sent Sirius so many knowing looks that he’s just started ignoring him entirely. Peter and Mary seem equally involved, often teasing him so mercilessly that Sirius finds himself grateful his grandfather demanded he keep his own room. Sirius is not hiding. He does not pout. Sirius assesses and overthinks and typically grabs a McKinnon, since a Potter is out of the question currently, to distract himself when he is being too much. And so he can avoid doing something crazy. 

“Truly can’t believe you didn’t go down on him immediately. You seek him out all the time. And you’re always hugging. I’d be surprised to see him so accommodating but you have a tendency to get under people’s skin. Personally, I would’ve strangled you by now.” Marlene says, flipping idly through a magazine. “Oooh, what about this?”

Sirius rolls onto his stomach, poking his head over her shoulder. It’s a beautiful spread with a witch sprawled across satin, red sheets and dressed in an obscene black dress with the smooth dips of her hips revealed, covered in intricate gold accents. Sirius whistles. 

“You have the ass for it.”

“I do.” Marlene sighs dreamily. She marks the page with a sticky note.

Sirius drapes himself over her, earning a disgruntled oof. He settles easily, picking at different patches of grass that grow nearby. Their free periods were strategically aligned as a part of a masterplan to exist quietly near the Quidditch pitch since practice was not in session and they could effectively avoid their friends if need be. 

“You also get angsty whenever you see anyone talking to him for too long.”

“I do that with James.” Sirius quips, tying two blades of grass together.

Marlene sniffs. “I rarely see you murderously look at Lily when she deigns to grace James’ presence.”

“You’re not looking close enough.” Sirius dismisses. “Plus, she has a mean wand.”

“That she does.” Marlene flips a page, considering. “At least he doesn’t treat you differently now. If I poured my heart and soul out to anyone and they essentially had a panic attack then offered me a blow job and ran away, I’d turn myself into a toad and never speak to them again. How embarrassing.”

Sirius makes a wounded noise. “He did not bare his soul to me. I did not have a panic attack. I did not run away!” 

“Listening to the way you tell it, I believe you were one step away from flinging yourself off the Astronomy tower.” Marlene laughs. “I’d be embarrassed for you if I hadn’t responded to Dorcas in a similar way. I thought she was fucking with me and then, suddenly, I had the wonderful experience of her tongue down my throat.”

Sirius chokes.

“I’ll recommend it to baby death. Maybe get you two on the same page faster.” Marlene hums thoughtfully. “Though I definitely thought the whole let me choke on your dick was direct enough but I suppose you cock blocked yourself.”

“Ugh.” Sirius sighs. “I have to talk to him. I can’t just drop myself into his lap and kiss the shit out of him.”

“Call the Prophet. Sirius Black, a known talker, refuses to talk.” Marlene places another sticky note on a page in her magazine. “You are so cagey about feelings. Alright, what’s the issue? You’re hot as fuck. He’s hot. Like, truly, a stunning individual. I have half a mind to drink from the bathroom sink in the Slytherin dorms because clearly something is in the water. Dorcas. Hadrian. Hell, even fucking Crouch has grown into less of a beanpole.”

“I’m taking that admission to my grave.” Sirius mutters, horrified.

“No one would believe you anyway.” Marlene assures him. “Don’t avoid the question. It’s not cute.”

Sirius groans, rolling off her to stare at the sky. “He’s so pretty and he keeps buying me things and he gets this look on his face whenever I wear his clothes. I just don’t understand how I have done anything to earn his favor. I’m a mess. I’ve been a mess all summer. I literally almost blew Peter up in fucking charms a few days ago. How do you blow anything up in charms?”

Marlene nods. “It was an entertaining watch.”

“I’ll have to meet his dad. My grandfather would lose his shit if I didn’t pursue this. He keeps dropping hints and asking questions . It’s so ominous.” Sirius huffs. “What if he just wants a fling?”

“Who, Hadrian? Do you want a fling?” Marlene asks, eying him with glee.

Sirius pointedly looks away. “If that’s what he wants but I don’t want him with anyone else. I’ll have to set them on fire or knock them down some stairs. My transfiguration isn’t human level yet. I’ll have to settle for physical violence. Maybe torture. Did you know that you could technically turn a person into a walrus physically?”

“Jesus, that is truly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard out of your mouth. That bitch of a mother really has affected you. Luckily, you have me. Listen here,” Marlene says heatedly, brandishing her stack of sticky notes like a threat. “You are Sirius Fucking Black. Making dumbass decisions does not make you any less brilliant, handsome or, heaven’s forbid I admit this, charming. Why would he not want you, you daft monkey?”

Marlene holds up a hand when he moves to argue. “You’re so stupid sometimes, I swear. You looked like shit for months, Sirius. He’s already seen you at your perpetual worst. Hadrian could’ve fucked off like the rest of us. James is his cousin, for fuck’s sake. You were at rock bottom and somehow that still didn’t put him off. You’re a lot, yes. You are dramatic and downright bitchy sometimes. Hadrian, however, only laughs in your face and calls you out on your shit whenever you have an attitude when even I, the amazing and beautiful Marlene McKinnon of the patron saints, would tell you to fuck off.”

“This is the type of person you need. He’s seen all your edges, Sirius.” Marlene finishes, waving her hands. “The fact that you are torn up over this is baffling considering I have seen the people you have entertained. It’s about damn time you land someone who matches your caliber. I’m still not over finding you and fucking Benjy in a broom cupboard together. That boy is so boring. He is flour in a world of seasoning! I will actually strangle you if the next words out your mouth are anything but ‘yes, Marls, my most beautiful companion. You are correct’. I highly doubt he’d put in this much work just to get his dick wet a few times.” 

Sirius laughs because he just can’t help it and because he’s constantly wondering how he managed to ensnare Marlene fucking McKinnon. Marlene flips her blonde hair with a pompous scoff as though she can read his mind. 

“We need to do your roots.” Sirius says because he’s a shit and he can and he loves her so much.

“Ugh, yes, we do.” Marlene agrees with feeling. “God, even Mary commented. Mary! She looks so sweet but fuck, she is shady. I couldn’t even be offended because, well fuck, she’s right!”

“Well, I did ask my grandfather to send another box of the bougie shit you like. It’s there, waiting for this moment. Just been in my room, wondering where Marlene McKinnon is, and waiting for her growing roots to be retouched.” Sirius sighs dramatically.

Marlene smacks him with her magazine. “You little shit! How dare you keep us apart? And stop trying to change the subject.” She jabs a finger into his sternum. “Ugh! Your self destructive habits are not cute. So what if it doesn’t work out, which I fucking doubt. But are you going to deny yourself the chance? The experience? That boy is hot as shit. I’m sure he’d dick you down so good you’d puddle for the rest of the year and I’d finally get some peace.”

Sirius gapes at her, scandalized and a touch delighted because a crass Marlene is always a treat. “Marls!”

Marlene pokes him again. “I want you thriving, jiving, cumming and happy. You’re over here blushing over a potential relationship like we haven’t discussed worse. You’re embarrassing me! We’re supposed to be punk rock, not nursery rhymes.”

“I get it. I get it. I’ll talk to him.” Sirius says, rubbing his chest. “God, your nails suck.”

“Tsk, my nails are amazing, you slag.” Marlene smooths her skirt down and promptly lies across his lap, reopening her magazine. 

“How do you even finger Meadowes with those things?” Sirius laughs.

“With my mouth, of course.” Marlene sniffs. “Oooh, buy these for me. As payment for my services as your therapist.”

Sirius sits up, staring down at a page of bright pink, leopard creepers. “Ugh. Fine. Lend me your owl.”

“When will you buy your own? Hell, Sirius, you’re the only 6th year I know who doesn’t have their own owl.” Marlene frowns deeply. 

“Everyone’s owl bullies me. I don’t want to be bullied by my own owl.” Sirius says, idly grabbing pieces of Marlene’s hair. He critically eyes her head and works a part down the middle. Sirius absently weaves her strands into a french plait, carefully gathering loose pieces as he works his way down. He thinks over their conversation, feeling more reassured than he did weeks ago. Marlene shuffles in his lap when he’s finished and Sirius starts on the other side.

“Plus, you can still provide him an heir since he’s got all that broody and ancient family bullshit going on. Oh, you’d need your own too. For your grandpa. There's a spell for that. Don’t ask how I know. I won’t answer. If you end up with a cunt, I need to see it. We can have matching pube hearts.” Marlene says thoughtfully, wiggling her fingers. “Can’t imagine you pregnant though. God, you’d be so bitchy.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d bottom.” Sirius sniffs.

“Ha! For anyone else, no. For Hadrian? You’ve got bottom stamped over your forehead.” Marlene laughs. “Hadrian seems like a brat tamer too. You’d definitely be the one under him. Do all gays have breeding kinks?”

“Wha..? I’m bisexual… Actually. Please stop talking.” Sirius begs desperately.

“Ok, ok. I’ll stop the teasing.” Marlene hums, flipping a page. After a moment, she says, “I bet he’s a biter.”

Sirius collapses backwards with a whimper, palms pressed to his eyes. “For all that is fucking holy, Marls.”

“Sirius Black, stop being a bore and a prude. I distinctly remember you describing to me in vivid detail the first time you went down on a girl.” Marlene lays on top of him, her magazine opened on his chest. “Not to mention, the first dick you gagged on. This is tame in comparison.”

“We were trading stories!” Sirius defends hotly. “You kept egging me on!”

“I’m egging you on now!” Marlene shouts. “I need details! I want to know if he makes you cry and I can only get that if you date him. Rise to the challenge, Black. Think of the dick! Ride it if you must but do not leave me hanging.”

“Yes, Marls.” Sirius sniffles helplessly.

Marlene tosses her magazine away, settling on his chest with a seedy smile. Her tan glows warmly under the sun, tiny wisps of hair framing her face gently. She waggles her eyebrows at him and he gathers her in his arms, rolling them over with a laugh. Marlene collapses into giggles, looping her arms through his and squeezing.

“You’re the fucking worst.” Sirius groans.

“I’m everything you deserve and more, Black.” Marlene sighs, tucking her head on his chest. “Wish blonde wasn’t such a bitch to maintain.”

“Your natural hair color isn’t even bad.” Sirius snorts. “It could be black. Then we’d really be fighting for our lives.”

“Small mercies.” Marlene grimaces. “Roll over. I require a nap. I must look refreshed upon my return to class so Dorcas can leer at me.”

Sirius obeys with a chuckle, Marlene curled in his side like a sea urchin. An eagle soars over head, some unfortunate critter tucked between its talons as it rises higher and higher.

“Ooh, nap pile.” A familiar voice pipes in. Peter suddenly blocks Sirius’ field of vision, eyes a bit wide and hopeful. He practically vibrates from where he’s standing.

“Nap pile.” Marlene agrees, yawning. 

Peter shrugs off his bookbag and throws himself in the grass beside Sirius. He groans quietly, not bothering to lie on his back. “I missed nap piles.”

“Me too.” Marlene admits, throwing her arm around Sirius’ waist. “Black has the third best tits.”

“Who has the first two?” Peter asks.

“Lily and Dorcas, duh.” Marlene scoffs.

“I genuinely hate you.” Sirius scowls as Peter worms his way over. “You are just as bad.”

“It’s a gift.” Peter says sagely, head dropping directly onto Sirius’ chest. He sighs, dramatic and happy. Marlene reaches out to pat Peter’s face. Sirius manages to worm his arm out from under him, draping it across Peter’s shoulders. Peter is asleep in seconds, which should be an olympic event. It tugs a bit at Sirius’ heartstrings. 

It would be a gross exaggeration for Sirius to acknowledge how much he’s missed this. 

“You want to know something?” Marlene’s voice startles him.

“What’s that?”

“After I approached you in the Great Hall last term, with the whole sugar daddy thing, Hadrian pulled me aside. It was actually my first time meeting him. Officially at least.” Marlene tells him. “I truly thought he was going to beat the shit out of me. His face was so scary. Plus his reputation… is not tame at all. Hell, I’m not surprised he has friends because who the fuck would want him as an enemy? Wild.”

Marlene laughs softly. “But he just wanted to thank me. Said he was glad my loyalty was worth something. That you were worth something to me despite everything happening. I wanted to reach out to you sooner but the girls had been so set in their decision. Do you remember when we first met?”

Sirius blinks, a bit thrown at the subject change. “Pretty sure I found you hiding in the boy’s bathroom first year.”

“Ugh, so embarrassing but yes. Here I was, a small but still beautiful Marlene, crying like a sissy in the boy’s bathroom because I had no idea where the girl’s bathroom was and I was homesick and then you just open the stall door,” Marlene wipes her face, shoulders shaking with laughter. “You just open the stall door and stare at me for what feels like forever. I’m covered in snot and you just looked so uncomfortable like you immediately regretted being nosy. Then your entire face changed. You looked so, well, serious and sat beside me.”

“Then you started talking about fucking storks of all things. You asked if I knew where babies came from. How you truly thought they came from storks like you read in some muggle book until the year before. I remember thinking you were insane but it was the first time I had laughed that entire week.” Marlene looks up at him. “Even if it took me a little long to get my head out of my ass, I wasn’t going to leave you alone forever, Sirius. So yes, my loyalty will always mean something if it’s you.”

Sirius’ eyes sting. His throat squeezes painfully.

“Oh, don’t you fucking start.” Marlene hisses, eyes suspiciously wet. “If you start, I’ll start and we’ll wake Peter.”

“If Dorcas doesn’t marry you, I will.” Sirius manages, touched. “I’m wearing the dress.”

“Oh thank fuck. I have the perfect one for you. It’s in my scrapbook.” Marlene cries.

Their laughter ends up waking Peter anyway. 

Dorcas comes to fetch Marlene before their class starts, seemingly displeased to see her girlfriend in such a state of delusional displeasure as she’s dragged to her feet half asleep. Peter grumbles their entire way to potions about how he was cheated out of a full nap due to Marlene and Sirius’ incessant giggling. Sirius notices Hadrian on their way, surrounded by a few older Slytherins and Henry McMilson outside the library. 

The light from the windows hits him spectacularly, and his impassive face glows with a gentle radiance. He is stunning, ethereal, and Sirius breath hitches when Hadrian’s eye drifts slightly meeting his stare head on. The corners of his mouth twitch minutely, a sliver of softness crossing over his face like the wind gliding over a field. 

Yes, Sirius thinks. Keep your eyes on me.

“Sirius!” 

Sirius drags his eyes away, peering over his shoulder to see Remus. His heart immediately sinks. It was easy to avoid someone who was clearly avoiding you as well. They kept cordial distance in class but Sirius tries to keep as small as possible around Remus. Sirius slows to a stop, Peter lingering beside him as he peers curiously between them. Remus pauses a few steps away, eyes flickering past Sirius before settling on him, shoulders squared. 

“Can I talk to you?”

“Ok.” Sirius responds but his voice sounds far away. “Go ahead, Wormy.”

Peter claps Sirius on the shoulder and gives Remus a little wave before trailing off. Sirius gestures to the courtyard beyond the windows and Remus shakes his head, beckoning Sirius to follow. He does, feeling a bit like he’s going to throw up, feeling a bit like he may just spill his entire being onto the floor at Remus’ feet until a decision is made. It is a familiar journey to the Astronomy tower, one Sirius had often avoided since the rift because it was their hang out space.

James was the Quidditch pitch.

Peter was an alcove near the Hufflepuff dorms, right before the kitchens.

Remus was the Astronomy tower.

Sirius studies Remus as they walk. He’s gotten taller, his brown curls a bit shaggier than before and they curl around his ears like little muffs. There’s a leaf stuck on the hem of his robes. His converses are crusted in dried mud. But Remus still smells the same, like parchment and ink, like fall and deep earth. Sirius knew he missed Remus but he had also accepted that he couldn’t force himself in his life anymore. Anisa had framed it well, the betrayal, the hurt his friend was feeling and deception that likely festered in its place. Giving space hurt but it was the least he could do. A bare minimum, anything else was an insult like his father had said.

They reach the top and Sirius hovers near the stairs, watching Remus settle into a familiar windowpane, long legs stretched out before him. Remus doesn’t say anything. Neither does Sirius. He shifts his gaze to his feet. There’s grass stains on his trousers and the shoelace of his left boot has unraveled spectacularly. Sirius drags his eyes back up and Remus is already looking back, eyes so bright and warm despite the bags under them. Sirius swallows thickly, shifting his weight.

“You look better.” Remus says, breaking the fragile stillness between them.

“Uhm, yeah.” Sirius nods. “Therapy helps with that. Check ins... and shit.”

Remus laughs. “I never thought I’d see you in therapy. I meant, you look better than you did this summer.”

“I,” Sirius frowns. He doesn’t remember seeing Remus. “Sorry. I don’t remember that.”

“I imagine not considering you were still in a magic induced coma or whatever.” Remus shrugs. “Mrs. Potter snuck me in. I didn’t want to talk to James. He means well but he can be too much.”

“Yeah.” Sirius agrees, unsure how he feels about this information. Something like hope swells in his gut.

Remus looks to the side, hands rested in his lap. “I appreciate you giving me space. I’ve been upset before but nothing compares to how I felt that day. I started wondering why and it just made me angrier as time passed. I wanted you gone completely for a while. And for once, you listened. I’m not sure if that made it better or worse frankly. So we’re here now. I’ll allow you to tell me why you did it.”

Sirius meets Remus' gaze steadily, “I wanted him to back off. I don’t know if I wanted him scared. Or if I wanted him dead. I don’t…” Sirius swallows hard. “I should’ve dealt with it myself. There isn’t much of an excuse for why I did it beyond that. I just wanted him to leave us alone, leave you alone, leave me alone, but I went about it in a shit way. I’m… I’m so sorry, Remus.”

Remus stares at him for a long moment. “And when it becomes too much again?”

“I’ll deal with him myself.” Sirius says plainly. I'll kill him, he thinks. “Though I don’t think it’ll be something to worry about. I’m supposed to apologize but I just haven’t. The only thing I really feel bad about is that I used you against him. I wasn’t thinking but that’s not much of an excuse either.”

“No,” Remus agrees softly. “It isn’t.”

Silence falls over them. Sirius distantly realizes he’s late for charms but he makes no motion to leave, watching Remus process everything he’s said. Sometimes Sirius thinks something is truly wrong with him, like he’s a closeted psychopath or rising dark lord. He thinks back on his father’s words, before his first time boarding the Hogwarts Express, when it was just them in the quiet of Sirius’ room. A supernova pretending to be anything that it’s not. Sirius burns so hot that it feels impossible to keep a lid on himself. Then he spills over onto everyone, onto everything until he finds satisfaction in the lingering result. 

Was it worth it, Sirius asks himself as he’s asked since that day, all summer, each waking glance of seeing Remus in the halls. No, Sirius thinks, watching Remus, who is now watching him.

“Was it worth it?” Remus asks.

“No.” Sirius answers.

“What happens now?” 

Whether to stay together and work through it or cut losses, Sirius thinks.

“I’ll accept whatever you want, Remus.”

Remus cracks a dry smile. “I’ve missed you but I don’t know what to do with the version standing here. Maybe that’s better. I envisioned this conversation so many times. This time last year, you would’ve fought me every step of the way. Now you stand here like you’ve been beaten down too many times and you have. I’ve forgiven you for what you’ve done, Sirius. But I was waiting for you to prove me wrong a second time.”

Sirius doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything. 

Remus looks down at his hands then back up. “I don’t want to continue as we have. I don’t want to graduate without you beside me with Peter and James. If that’s what you also want.”

“Why wouldn’t I want that?” Sirius asks, confused. 

“My anger doesn’t absolve me of hurting you, Pads. We were both incredibly cruel but I managed to sway our friends over it. Even if I felt I was in the right and you felt I was in the right, it was still wrong.”

“Oh.” Sirius says dumbly. “Uhm, that’s ok.”

“It really isn’t.” Remus huffs, laughing softly. 

“It happened. It’s done.” Sirius shakes his head. “We’re moving forward. I don’t want to dwell on that anymore. Plus I have a fucking duck to give you . ”

“A.. a duck?” Remus frowns, confused.

“Yes! I went to Roeun with papa and Reg. They had this little toy shop with ducks. There was a professor duck! What he’s the professor of, I have no idea.” Sirius says, feeling a bit like a loon, rubbing his neck. “But he’s so small and had a little briefcase. The briefcase opens too! I haven’t looked inside. Seemed kinda rude-”

Remus dissolves into laughter, shoulder shaking hard. “Come here, you stupid dog.”

“Hey!” Sirius huffs, offended, but he goes, immediately swept into Remus’ tight embrace and Sirius hesitates before collapsing into his hold, breath hitching. “I’m the best, damn dog.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Pads.” Remus says, his voice breaking.

“Oh, Moons. Don’t cry.” Sirius whispers, hugging him tighter. “You’ll drown me, you fucking beanstalk.”

Remus laughs loudly, his face buried in the crook of Sirius’ neck.

Chapter Text

“ Hadrian ,” The familiar voice of Pandora Malfoy sings through the air, carrying that dreamlike quality of hers. She loops her arms into his, easily matching his pace as he walks without pause. Her platinum blonde hair is looped in an elaborate braid with a series of charms interwoven. 

Pandora was several years younger than him. Their budding friendship had been a point of contention in the past but Hadrian was happy to swat any lingering opposition out of his way. Some saw her as a status climber despite her family name and aloof nature, Hadrian simply found her company charming with her riddles and knowledge. He’s considered multiple times inviting her back home seeing as she already seemed to know who his father was. Not that it would matter if she didn’t but Pandora enjoyed strange conversations and Hadrian was certain his father would have plenty of subjects.

“Pandora.” Hadrian greets smoothly. “How are you today?”

Pandora hums, happy and pleased. “Very good. Whisper and I had a fascinating lunch together.”

“She’s already ratted you out, I’m afraid.” Hadrian replies, easing them smoothly past a group of Ravenclaws clustered around the Potions classroom. “Though I do appreciate you expanding her palette. I didn’t think to feed her shrimp until today.”

“She drives a hard bargain. It was either that or she was going to burrow under my bed and scare my dorm mates.” Pandora sighs dreamily. “I would hate to cause such an inconvenience.”

“Whisper would happily handle them for free.” Hadrian bares his teeth in a smile. “All you have to do is ask.”

“They’ve been very kind to me recently.” Pandora tells him but her eyes sparkle in appreciation.

“I should hope.” Hadrian inclines his head. “I’m told I’m persuasive. Where to?”

“Oh, I have a free period.” Pandora says, her fingers dancing along a window pane as they pass. “I wanted to say hello. We haven’t been able to talk in a while but I know you’ve been busy walking amongst the unrested with your creator. Then there’s your current predicament with a little star. You’ve managed well.”

“Regulus?” Hadrian asks, earning an unimpressed look. “Ah, so no future relationship there. Pity. I had hoped for a full set.”

“Lord Black is already more than pleased. Leo will follow eventually.” Pandora says, skipping a little. “I believe your relationship will prove more fruitful in the future. In the embrace of shadows, you must find many hands to keep from drifting away.”

Hadrian mulls her words over, biting the inside of his lip. “I understand.”

He knew Regulus would be a potential hurdle. Hadrian just wasn’t sure how much during this present time. Lord Black had been a pleasant surprise but the man was still a Black. Arcturus kept cards very close to his chest, which was expected. Hadrian just hadn’t expected Lord Black to be so gracious with his time and his heir. It was a welcome surprise but it was very curious.

“Good.” Pandora says, drawing them to a stop. “The Thestrals miss you. Be sure to visit them soon.”

“I will.” Hadrian promises. 

Pandora smiles widely and it’s a stunning thing. She flutters a small wave, drifting off down the hall in light, effortless movements. Hadrian realizes she’s stopped them outside his transfiguration class and huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He notices McMilson walking towards him, wide smiled with his hand raised in a rapid wave.

“Mort!” McMilson chirps happily. “How have you been?”

“You saw me an hour ago.” Hadrian says, amused.

“Many things can happen between now and then.” McMilson leans against the wall beside him. “As an example, I’ll be lucky if I pull off an A for this essay. I had to rewrite it during break because I forgot it in Care and then Hagrid’s dog somehow got ahold of it.”

“You’re an exceptional writer. I’m sure you’ll manage E.”

McMilson looks pleased. “If you keep this up, I’ll get a big head.”

“Is it not already big enough?” Hadrian asks innocently.

McMilson laughs loudly. “Cheeky.”

McGonagall sweeps down the hall, nodding curtly to a few other early students lingering around her classroom door. She unlocks it, her robes billowing as she strides inside. McMilson grimaces, following Hadrian inside. They drop their assignments off on McGonagall’s desk and head to their seats near the back. Hadrian doesn’t particularly understand how McMilson became his deskmate but he doesn’t particularly care. The Puff’s way of working consistently provided a unique aspect of learning and entertainment, which Hadrian appreciated. Otherwise he’d surely be bored out of his mind. 

Perhaps he should’ve gone to Durmstrang instead. 

“I’m considering a mastery after school.” McMilson tells him, leaning back in his chair.

“If it’s anything but transfiguration, I will be devastated.” Hadrian deadpans.

“Unfortunately, it’s in potions.”

Hadrian pulls a face and McMilson laughs, earning a few looks. “Kidding. It’s transfiguration. This is the hardest class I’ve ever had but it’s so fascinating. I can’t imagine being bored working towards it but we can’t all be little prodigies like you and your cousin.”

“Hmm,” McMilson tilts his head and Hadrian already knows he’s going to hate it. “Or have a solid practical mind, if only he’d put in the work like one Sirius Black.”

“Your McGonagall impression has gotten better.” Hadrian says dismissively. He does not want to think about Sirius Black. A monumental task as his mind refuses to cooperate. These past few weeks have been painful now that his feelings have been made known. Hadrian doesn’t understand what compelled him to confess at all. Well, he does know. Eileen Parkinson had lingered on the outskirts of his mind, her searching stare and hesitant hope. He just wishes she would’ve asked someone else, anyone else about Sirius Black. Hadrian would celebrate her bravery to approach him at all if it was about anything else.

Hadrian understands, he does, has stared and lingered long enough. Even when labeled as a cocky, vibrant idiot, Sirius Black turned heads, especially alone. If Hadrian is honest, this is what drew his attention more. Sirius’ entire demeanor would change into a threat, a coil wound too tight, primed to explode. It was worse towards the end of last term. A true testament to his animagus form. Hadrian distantly wonders if Sirius truly believes he’s just a large dog. And now, others were becoming curious, too curious like the rumors of what happened this summer have made Sirius more interesting. Lord Black might’ve pulled the reins on the Prophet but the rumors had already spread. 

Hadrian couldn’t even imagine the number of letters Lord Black has received recently. People flocked to power and the House of Black radiated with it despite their reputation. Hadrian knew Sirius had his own doubts of being heir but after what he’s seen, what he’s felt, Hadrian disagrees. A Black in Gryffindor was already a scandal but to see the ruthlessness tucked underneath it felt like the entire thing was a facade.

Hadrian massages his temples, the thick scar tissue over his eye pulling tightly. There’s a letter in his room he intends to send to Lord Black as soon as he can pin Sirius down. To discuss his answer and possibly kiss the shit out of him. Hadrian can’t ever remember being so antsy. He, personally, blames his father, for what he does not know, but the blame is his. 

His patience has been tested and tried repeatedly. His gaze keeps wandering, his magic keeps searching. Sirius Black wore evasiveness with such subtlety that it’s baffling because he is not an idiot. He surely knows how he riddles Hadrian’s insides to liquid gold whenever he hugs him, how he lingers after, smile so saccharine and easy and stunning. Then there’s the lingering admittance of how he wanted Hadrian but they still hadn’t addressed the situation. Hadrian didn’t even know Sirius could play coy and it would be fascinating to watch if he wasn’t experiencing it himself. Hadrian wants to shake himself, violently. If he concentrates enough, he swears he can hear ghostly laughter. Yes, this is certainly his father’s fault.

“Oh . Did something happen?” McMilson leers, sitting up straight. “I wonder what. I’ve seen you two together. Looking deeply into each other’s eyes as you sit near the lake, him hanging off your arm like some handsome piece of pottery. So, let’s see. You two finally did talk but… you’re waiting for his response.”

“Enough.” Hadrian mutters, affronted. “I literally hate you.”

“You love me. Which is why I still have dick and my balls unattached from my face.”

“Mr. McMilson, if you don’t mind.” Professor McGonagall says with a long sigh. 

McMilson beams at her. “Of course, professor. Please don’t let me hold you back.”

There are a few giggles and McGonagall levels him with a suffering look but doesn’t take points, which is telling. Hadrian sends a wordless tickle charm, annoyed, and when McMilson laughs, McGonagall does take points. McMilson sends him a betrayed pout, which he returns with a bright smile. McMilson sulks a bit until Hadrian deigns to assist him in changing his hair to a vibrant orange after his poor 8th attempt. How McMilson will get a mastery in transfiguration, Hadrian does not know, but he will offer support regardless.

“Oh, this is a look.” McMilson says happily, checking himself in the mirror. “I may keep it. So was I right?”

“About what?” Hadrian asks, boredly scaling through hair colors. He settles on strawberry blonde hair with a button nose and wide, thin lips.

McGonagall quirks an eyebrow at him. “10 points to Slytherin. An extra 5 points for an exceptional display of additional spellwork.”

“Guess she doesn’t like my orange.” McMilson mutters, turning his chair to Hadrian. “About Black.”

“Regulus?” Hadrian blinks, wanting more than anything to leave this conversation. He may just skip his last remaining class. Hadrian returns his features back to normal and scowls.

“A bit young for you.” McMilson says, his smile knowing. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I won’t judge you.”

Hadrian’s mouth twitches and he resists banging his head into his desk. It would be uncouth and childish behavior but the urge is strong. “I suppose we are.”

“So?” McMilson presses excitedly. His expression is open and genuine.

“It’s old news. I confessed a while ago.” Hadrian sniffs, lifting his chin. “It’s fine.”

“He didn’t say anything? I find that hard to believe.”

“As much as I’d love to bully him into an actual conversation, I won’t.” Fuck, he does want to do just that, wants to get his hand around that pretty neck and strangle him then kiss him senseless. Hadrian can’t think of the last time he felt so strongly about a person that wasn’t his father. He made connections with people, friendships, but nothing that felt like this. His magic yearned for Sirius so desperately sometimes it made him furious. It made him combative. Hell, Hadrian doesn’t understand how his father went through this when his temper is worse than his son’s.

Hadrian flicks his wand and McMilson’s hair turns a darker ginger. He studies him, squinting. “This suits you better.”

McMilson checks the mirror. “Ooh, it does. How long will it last?”

“Two hours. I was lazy.” Hadrian informs him.

“I saw he made up with his friends. That your doing?” McMilson asks, tilting his head.

“I try to keep out of Gryffindor drama. It’s exhausting enough dealing with most of them.” Hadrian sighs. There is relief in knowing Lupin is back to speaking with Sirius, almost like a spark had been brought back from the depths of hell. However, Hadrian was not looking forward to The Marauders future antics. Peacetimes have seemed to come to an end.

McMilson nods decisively. “I can fight him if he says no. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“That’s… touching,” because it is.

“You should call me Henry.”

Oh, they’re doing this today. Hadrian wishes he skipped class. “Then I suppose you can call me Hadrian. Any attempts at nicknames and I will boil you in your innards in your throat, Henry.”

“Is this how you talk to Black? No wonder he’s so charmed. Seems like a little masochist with that heavy personality of his.” Henry says, leaning back in his chair. His face turns thoughtful. “Actually, Black is probably the perfect fit for you. He gives me puppy energy. Well, a rabid dog in some cases. I’ve seen him go at a few students and it is not fun. All that pent of aggression you have going on. It’ll be a perfect fit. I can’t even feel sorry for him because he’ll probably roll over for you and bark or somethin’.”

Hadrian turns him into a toad for the rest of class. It costs Slytherin 50 points but he’ll be damned if he feels guilty about it. His fellow housemates send him delighted looks while the rest of the class colors in outrage. Henry, himself, finds the entire ordeal incredibly hilarious when Hadrian changes him back, laughter ringing through the halls. His fellow Puffs were quite scandalized but easily swept into his good cheer. Hadrian leaves them to it, lest he be forced to continue conversations he does not want to have with Henry McMilson of all people.

It was bad enough with his father . Discussing emotions with such an old being was always an incredibly draining ordeal simply because his father found everything hilarious as if he hadn’t experienced such things lifetimes ago. Then there was James. Hadrian’s eye twitched so much during his cousin’s thorough, nearly pleading pep talk to not give up on Sirius that he nearly, finally, hexed James Potter into a heaping pile of shit. 

Hadrian returns to his dorm, grateful for a free period before his final class because Henry is tenacious to disturbing degrees. He still doesn’t fully understand how they were friends. Hadrian pushes his door open, fully expecting Whisper to start complaining about Boo again once he enters. The little owl found Whisper charming for reasons neither Whisper nor Hadrian understood but he’s always been a bit odd even if it now means that he leaves berries for a creature who can not enjoy them. Whisper is, in fact, present but she is not alone. He can see the tip of her head poking out of a dark sweater, his sweater in fact, eyes slitting open slightly once he steps into the room. 

Her body is folded into a lumpy mound on a lap, specifically Sirius Black’s lap, who naps lazily in Hadrian’s arm chair, head propped up by his palm. His legs dangle over an arm of the chair, body contorted in a weird way to accommodate Whisper. Sirius’ robes are nowhere in sight, tie missing, pants rolled up to reveal a pair of faded yellow, hi-top converses and it’s a miracle he doesn't get detention more often based on his constant disregard for uniform.

Hadrian closes the door softly, heart stuttering in his chest. He feels a bit like a loon, staring absently at the two of them. Sirius has always been incredibly stunning but in sleep, his face transforms entirely, much like a cherub drifting through clouds. Hadrian has watched him numerous times, usually because he ends up becoming a makeshift pillow, but it’s no less endearing. He shakes his head, casting embarrassing thoughts away and Whisper slithers out of Sirius’ sweater just a touch.

“You’re early.” Whisper hisses softly.

“McMilson.” Hadrian answers simply and she appears amused. “How did he get in?”

“I showed him.” Whisper says as if to say ‘duh’. “He was with the loud one. I felt I was better company.”

“Meaning you demanded a nap and scared my cousin away.”

Whisper hisses in confirmation, flicking her tongue. She watches Hadrian lazily, seeming incredibly pleased with herself. Hadrian shrugs out of his robes, hanging them on a rack nearby, and tosses his bag onto his bed. Hadrian skims through his thoughts with rapid clarity. He feels nervous. Sirius has been in his room plenty of times, with James, with Lupin recently, by himself, but this felt different. Hadrian narrows his eyes at nothing, perplexed. Hopeful.

“Are you upset?”

“Not at all.” Hadrian assures her. “I have missed his company. I feel like I don’t get to experience it enough.”

“I know. I feel these things, little master. Hence he is here.” Whisper replies. “He is pleasant for a human. He doesn’t understand me directly but he listens. It is refreshing. You should keep him. I will allow it.”

“Will you now?” Hadrian asks, amused.

Sirius stirs on the chair, hand automatically moving to cradle Whisper’s body to him. He settles easily, a sleep filled murmur escaping his lips. Whisper sends Hadrian a smug look. Hadrian rolls his eyes, setting about to unload his bag. His last class of the day is Potions. He’d be surprised if he needed anything at all with Slughorn cooing and flaunting about. At this point, he’d be surprised if he went.  

Fucking McMilson. Earning a Puff’s interest clearly came with caveats. 

“Shit.” Sirius slurs quietly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Hadrian does not startle but it is a close thing. “I’d ask how you managed to get in without me but Whisper seems to have been very active today.”

Sirius chuckles, low and tired. “I bet. She smelled like shrimp, which I thought was weird, but I’m not an expert here. I think she also wanted James to fuck off so I’d sit still long enough.”

“An accurate deduction.” Hadrian informs him, turning around. “Pandora said they ate together.”

“That’s so cute. Did you enjoy it?” Sirius coos, stroking Whisper’s head. “Oh! There were some little hogs in the forest earlier this year. Maybe I’ll catch her one if there are any left. Seems inhumane to leave it alive but she seems like a girl who enjoys making things squeal.”

Hadrian’s heart squeezes with pleasure and he hates it. He sighs, heavily, distinctly charmed and knows Whisper will be most agreeable with the turn of events.

“He says he’ll catch you a pig.”

“You need more friends like this one.” Whisper says, indeed pleased.

“You’re being lazy.” Hadrian tells her.

“You sound jealous, little master. Shall he fetch a pig for you as well?”

Hadrian pointedly ignores her but he can feel her amusement through their bond. Sirius looks between them, his expression a mix of confusion and delight. He’s taken so many things in stride, like a leaf perpetually following a rocky river flow hoping it eventually banks on land. Hadrian wants to give him that, wants to give him everything and it’s such an overwhelming feeling that it feels like it’ll spill over one day and he won’t be able to stop it.

It had been a heavy decision to allow Sirius to learn that he knew parseltongue. Hadrian knew it would come out eventually but he had been uncharacteristically nervous. His father had shared his experiences with his own classmates’ discovery, their accusations, their betrayed distance and the pain that came with it. Hadrian didn’t care what others of his house thought, barely cared about the opinions of those outside of it but he did care about Sirius’. Then the dumb dog just didn’t care and Whisper had him claimed and smitten thoroughly. 

Whisper slithers out of Sirius’ sweater, gingerly coiling around Hadrian’s legs before she drifts off towards her terrarium. It’s nearly the size of half his room, a bit too much for Whispers’ current size, but she seemed happy with it so far. In reality, it was just a strange meld of magic with a woodland flare similar to the forest Hadrian had found her in outside of Silberwald. 

“Have fun with your human, little master.”

“I definitely missed class.” Sirius stretches languidly with a sigh, hair cascading past his shoulders in dark waves. It’s gotten much longer over the summer, nearly reaching mid back. Hadrian forces his gaze away.

“I’m surprised you dropped by unannounced. Usually I just get harassed until you finally tell me what it is you’re wanting.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it? Harassment?” Sirius grins and Hadrian loathes how handsome it is. “Can’t a lion visit his favorite snakes whenever he wants?”

Absolutely . “Favorites, hm?” Hadrian says, pulling off his school sweater. He tosses it lazily onto his bed.

“Don’t tell Reggie. He may take offense. But yes.” Sirius hums, tucking himself into the corner of the armchair, and folds one leg over the other. “I hadn’t seen you all day. Marlene has been extra sulky because Dorcas is leading a study group for Charms and told her that she couldn’t come unless she had actual work to do. Remus tried to get me to join but ugh. I had an O in charms last year. I will this year. It’s not that difficult. Then I thought to myself, oh, I have someone to leer at so I should do that instead.”

Hadrian rolls up his sleeves, raising one eyebrow. “A tough sell.”

“Absolutely. Who wants a dumb boyfriend?” Sirius agrees, tilting his head. His gaze lingers on Hadrian’s exposed forearms. 

Boyfriend. “Is that all that happened today?” Hadrian prompts, biting back a smile and ignoring the way his stomach clenches.

“Did some review with Moony for Peter, that hopeless bastard. And… Well, Parkinson finally approached me.” Sirius says, dejected, slouching a bit. He leans heavily to his side, legs falling open. “I’m happy she got it over with because James said she’s been following me in the hallway. I’d be flattered if it wasn’t what Reg and his gremlins like to do before charming my hair pink. It doesn’t suit my complexion.”

“It was an interesting shade. What did she want?” Hadrian asks, loosening his tie. The movement catches Sirius’ gaze instantly. He swallows, then blinks, eyes flickering to his.

“What?”

“I asked what did she want, maus?” Hadrian strides towards him, tie dangling around his neck, and kneels on the floor before him, emboldened by the way those silver eyes dilate. He’s close enough to catch whiffs of Sirius’ cologne and the subtle fragrance of his rose conditioner. Sirius doesn’t respond, lips parting. Hadrian isn’t particularly mean spirited (he is) but he does enjoy dealing similar damage since Sirius likes to stir him up.

“Have I rendered you silent?” Hadrian hums.

“What did you ask?” Sirius manages, cheeks a stunning pink and Hadrian slips between his legs neatly, one arm slipping into the tight space between Sirius’ hip and the armchair. His other hand slides along Sirius’ thigh, curling just along the dip of his waist.

“I asked about Parkinson.” Hadrian says.

Sirius’ breath hitches. “Who?”

“Eileen Parkinson?” Hadrian presses, watching Sirius’ throat dip nervously.

Sirius nods slowly. His hands twitch in his lap. “Sure.”

“What did she want?” 

“What?” Sirius asks distractedly, leaning forward. 

Hadrian smiles, a bit sharp, a bit mean. “You’re being incredibly dumb.”

Sirius, regrettably, does not rise to the bait and instead grabs the front of Hadrian’s shirt with a shaky hand and visibly hesitates, just a moment, before leaning down to press their foreheads together. His breath is warm and trembling and Hadrian wants it between his teeth . “I like you. A lot. Maybe too much. We should probably date.”

“Probably?” Hadrian inquires, grasping Sirius’ hips to drag him forward. “Shall I tell you what I think, maus?”

“Ok,” Sirius breathes.

“Cute. As if I’d let anyone else have you.” Hadrian leans up and kisses him, a bit bruising, a bit too hard and his nerves feel a bit frayed and electrified and Sirius kisses back , nimble fingers burying into his hair and pulling as he presses into Hadrian’s space. It’s everything but not nearly enough. 

Sirius sighs against him, loose limbed and desperate, lips parting eagerly for his tongue. Hadrian drags him into his lap, hands sliding along his thighs, pinning him firmly into the armchair. It scrapes noisily but doesn’t budge. Sirius whimpers softly, one arm looped around his shoulders, his hand resting over his collarbone. He breaks away briefly, mouth puffy and wet and Hadrian chases him, fisting a hand in his long hair and pulls , earning a low, needy whine.

Desire burns bright and hot under Hadrian’s skin, twisting his stomach in knots. The room drops in temperature, his magic bursting forth, too overwhelming and brittle but Sirius just presses back against him, electric and sparking and it’s everything. Hadrian pulls back sharply, resting his forehead against Sirius’ shoulder, mourning the touch almost instantly, struggling to get himself underwraps. Sirius trembles beneath him, thighs squeezing around his midsection as he pants softly, his breath warm and tantalizing against Hadrian’s ear.

“Shit.” Hadrian says with feeling.

“Well, that’s never happened to me before.” Sirius says, laughing a bit.

“Do you even understand the implications of what’s happening?”

“I’m not an idiot despite popular opinion . I do come from an ancient, dark house. My dog really likes your mean dog. You should kiss me again.” Sirius hums thoughtfully. “I will be so good.”

“Will you?” Hadrian laughs and fuck, this might’ve been a mistake.

“I’m a good boy. Swear.” Sirius purrs, sliding his fingers into Hadrian’s hair. He tilts his head back, eyes lit up like his namesake, bright and beautiful. “No accidental marriage. I’d never deny you the opportunity to court the shit out of me.”

“Bold of you to assume that’s what I want.”

Sirius barks out a laugh, smile deranged and predatory. “As if you’d want anyone else.”

Hadrian huffs, fire licking up his spine. You’re right, Hadrian thinks, reaching up to capture Sirius’ mouth in a filthy kiss. He flicks his hand and the armchair disappears, causing them to stumble to the floor. Sirius laughs a bit, cheeks blotched pink and pretty, dark hair splayed around his head like a broken halo. He tugs Hadrian down by his tie, mouth inviting and hungry. Hadrian feels disoriented, frazzled and the feel of Sirius’ hands in his hair set his skin on fire.

He moves away to kiss just under Sirius’ jaw, the long column of his throat, hands grasping the meat of his thighs tightly as he bites and sucks and licks. Sirius arches beneath him, moaning soft and lovely and he drags Hadrian’s mouth back to his. Hadrian slips a hand under his sweater, feeling the risen skin of old curse scars, the slope of his ribs, the warm metal of his barbells. Sirius whimpers, hard against Hadrian’s hip, arousal giving way to euphoria when he rocks against him.

“ Fuck,” Hadrian groans, thrusting down and Sirius gasps, clutching his shoulders tightly. He wants to be inside him almost desperately, wants to pin him down and bury himself under his skin until they are nothing and everything and atoms but there are implications and discussions and dealing with fucking Lord Black, Orion, and his own damn father. “We just kissed for the first time.”

“Just this.” Sirius pants, pulling him closer. “Just this. Please.”

Hadrian acquiesces because how could he not, feeling Sirius whine and shiver and break beneath him. The warmth of his skin under his sweater, the muscles of his thighs flexing with each movement. His face buried in Hadrian’s neck, begging so sweet and beautiful until he splits apart, lips swollen and red, and Hadrian follows, would follow him anywhere. Their magic tangles together like a wave crashing to shore, waiting, impatient and tense.

“Fuck.” Sirius whispers, disheveled, hair wild and tangled. He runs a hand down Hadrian’s chest, feeling his rampant heartbeat. The air is sticky between them, flecks of dust suspended in stagnant static. Hadrian absently rubs his thighs, his hips and stomach, dragging his hands higher and higher and Sirius shivers.

“Again?” Sirius hums, cheeky. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Hadrian’s mouth, then another, and another. “You can even take my shirt off.”

“Shut up.” Hadrian kisses him soundly. “You’ve talked too much today.”

“Oh, thank fuck, I’ve been thinking about you down my throat all day. If I can’t get my guts rearranged, this will have to do.” Sirius sighs, a bit dramatic and too much and all Hadrian can think is you’re perfect, you’re perfect.

Chapter Text

Sirius hadn’t expected many things to change after finally, finally, kissing the shit of Hadrian Peverell. However, this seemed to be the push he needed. First, being that he was no longer a free man, which was to be expected especially with the level of threat in that smile whenever some brave child would saddle up to Sirius, twirling a lock of their hair, or a cocky smirk in place, ready to ask about what, Sirius has an idea, but to see how they immediately wilt away like some husk because of one Slytherin’s menacing gaze was enough to stroke Sirius’ ego for the rest of the day. 

Because, damn. Sirius really nabbed the scariest bat in the dungeon. Sirius does not preen but it is a near thing. (He does, however, excitedly bounce up and down with Marlene hidden behind a tapestry somewhere.)

Secondly, Hadrian had become more insufferable with his gifts. Sirius now had not one but two new sets of robes. One for winter in a heavier weight of velvet. The lining was silver but it shimmered and sparkled at certain angles. It felt light in his hands, luxurious fur tucked into the hood and cuffs. It was outlandish and extra and Sirius was himself incredibly pleased, no matter the amount of sulking he did right after. The other was a rich black wool with subtle, delicate patterns with dark feathers lining the inside and Sirius wore it every day, uniform be damned.

And because he would get randomly tugged into alcoves and kissed senseless before a smug Hadrian would send him dazedly to class. Sirius had tried to match the energy but he was a bit overwhelmed because his boyfriend, wow, a fucking boyfriend, would get all narrow eyed and just as insufferable as before. Sirius had a series of new clasps for his robes that were a callback to Hadrian’s house, made of blackened silver and some piece of a polished, silver skeleton that was inlaid with onyx or emerald or both and Sirius was not charmed (he was fucking smitten). 

“You’ve become heart eyed again.” Remus comments idly, lounging on Sirius’ bed with a transfiguration textbook spread out beside him.

“You have.” Peter agrees easily, partially hidden under said bed. “Can I have this chocolate frog?”

Sirius turns from the mirror he’s in front of, narrowing his eyes at Peter. “I don’t eat chocolate frogs.”

“Must be one of my stashes. Have at it, Wormy.” James chirps happily, rummaging through Sirius’ wardrobe. “I can’t believe my babies are going on a date! Ah! We’ll be cousins soon. Wish we could be brothers but cousins will do.”

“I think if Hadrian was your older brother you would’ve turned out differently.” Remus quips, turning a page. “Maybe with more sense.”

James gapes at him and Remus blows him a kiss.

Sirius nudges James. “Probably more murdery. Which would not be good for how impulsive you are.”

“I am not impulsive.” James scoffs.

Sirius grins at him. “You set the shrubbery outside on fire because you thought I might be cold.”

“You looked cold!” James defends hotly, cheeks pinking. “Someone needs to make sure you don’t freeze with your delicate constitution.”

“My delicate constitution has put you on your ass, Prongs.” Sirius says sweetly and James drapes an arm across his shoulders with a sniff.

“I’m just saying. Need to keep our Padfoot happy and warm. We should get you a heating lamp.” James hums thoughtfully.

“I am not a lizard.” Sirius hisses.

“You kind of are.” Remus responds lazily. He sends Sirius a sweet, little smile when Sirius squawks in offense. “You have 30 minutes before your intended arrives to whisk you away. Let’s see the options. Pete, put that down before it-”

“Whoah, whoah, intended seems a bit-”

There’s a sharp thunk and Peter whimpers from under a fallen stack of books that have landed right on top of him from Sirius’ nightstand. Remus sighs deeply, waving his wand and righting everything back to how it was. Peter wiggles from under the bed, rubbing his head with a bashful smile.

“Wormtail, you know I jenga my shit. Why do you do this to yourself?” Sirius asks, unsympathetic.

“One day I will win.” Peter says darkly, eying the stack with a gleam in his eyes. He dutifully takes a seat beside Remus on the bed, a series of crumpled chocolate frog wrappers in hand. “James is dressing you like a bore. Show your abs. I wanna see tits. Take it off.”

Sirius gasps, delighted and James sends him a withering glare, clutching Sirius to his chest.

“He’s a taken man now, Wormy. Don’t oogle.”

“Need something to look at in this dorm.” Remus mutters and Peter nods solemnly. 

“Enough! Think of Padfoot’s chastity.” James admonishes them, lips twitching as he tries not to smile.

Sirius bursts out laughing and they dissolve into giggles. He dutifully sheds the, ok, they are a bit boring, clothes and gingerly shoves a pouting James away. Sirius digs through his clothes, slowly narrowing his eyes and he looks back at where his friends have settled across the room. Remus meets his gaze. Sirius lifts one eyebrow. Remus hums thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He shrugs. Sirius raises his other eyebrow and Remus’ face transforms into renewed interest, both eyebrows raised.

Peter looks between them confused and James starts nodding rapidly. “Fucking yes. Do it.”

“What he said.” Remus agrees, easily. “Actually, not too sheer. The other one.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “No sheer?”

“Mesh, maybe. We are talking about your cousin.” Remus deadpans. “Let us save some lives today.”

James nods seriously. “Yeah. Damn, I’ll get you in that top at some point!”

Sirius winks at him, turning back to his wardrobe.

“How do you guys do that?” Peter whines. “I barely got half of that. I need to practice more.”

“We run Padfoot interference often while you keep people distracted.” James claps Peter on the shoulder. “Which is really the most important job when Pads starts pissing and hissing. You have saved many lives, Pete, with your abilities.”

“You have.” Remus agrees.

“I can hear you.” Sirius grumps. He does neither of those things, thank you. “Black or white.”

“White.” James and Remus state in unison. Sirius can hear them highfive behind him. He tugs the shirt on smoothly, careful to not fuck up this damn braid he’s had to redo twice now, god. Sirius flips the rest of his hair out of the collar. It’s a hollow, mesh pattern and buttery silk with a cowl neck that dips just below his sternum. Not his most outlandish but they were saving lives today apparently. It ruffles slightly at his elbows and there is a stark provocation of skin beneath. He could almost make out his belly button if he squints.

Sirius tilts his head considering and waves his hand lazily causing a pair of trousers to drop neatly into his outstretched palm. He tugs them on, smoothing his shirt along the inside before zipping them up to where they rest snugly on his waist. Sirius gently tugs out the fabric of his shirt, frowning heavily at his reflection as he tries to get the folds just right. James whistles.

“Right?” Sirius gestures grandly to himself. “I fucking thought so.”

“I didn’t know your ass could get more fantastic.” James says happily. 

“Maybe you two should date.” Remus says thoughtfully.

“I have Lily to dream-”

“Uhm, Hadrian is enough-”

Sirius jerks his head to James and they make sharp eye contact before bursting into laughter. Peter snorts, heavily amused based on the flush in his cheeks and Remus rolls his eyes. Sirius rubs his hands together, a set of silver rings adorning his fingers and summons a series of silver, delicate chains in various lengths and pulls them on easily. 

Is that what it’s like to be combing your hair to be the prettiest girl at the party, Sirius thinks, settling on a rose gold ear cuff and a set of canine skull earrings, also from Hadrian and god, Sirius thinks he may actually marry this man one day. His face goes scarlet at the idea and he coughs delicately in his fist, shaking these thoughts away. 

“Can’t believe you’re going to be dressed like this just to go to Hogsmeade.” Peter sniffs, eying Sirius’ attire in appreciation. “Dress me for my next date, Pads. I want to feel like a Maybelline Cover Girl.”

“God, I have been waiting for this fucking request, Wormy.” Sirius moans dramatically, because he truly has.

Remus casts a tempus, gesturing wildly to them and James hops up excitedly, entire face beet red as he bounces up and down. It feels a bit like a parent send off but Sirius is older than all of them so maybe he’s a single father who works two jobs heading off to meet their future stepfather. He notices Marlene first with how loud she is swooning over his damn boyfriend. Sirius understands, he does, because Hadrian is just so frustratingly handsome that it makes him dizzy. He doesn’t even know how Hadrian is able to don all black and not look like some washed up little troll like Regulus.

Ok, Sirius loves Regulus but he would sacrifice many things to get him into new shades of black that aren’t just stark. There were so many options beyond desolation. Truthfully, Sirius isn’t thinking about his brother, not really, wanting nothing more to get his hands all over the soft fabric of Hadrian’s tight shirt and under it, god, and then steal his bomber jacket like a fiend. Sirius feels a touch overdressed but when those green eyes land on him and those pupils dilate, well, Sirius is but a simple man. 

“God, so glad I’m staying my ass here. I can’t compete with this.” Marlene hisses, circling Sirius like a vulture. “Where did you even get this shirt? Let me borrow it.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be simple to steal once I get him out of it.” Hadrian hums thoughtfully and Sirius gapes at him, scandalized and a touch something rotten because holy shit. There are a series of catcalls and Sirius has officially had enough, snagging Hadrian’s hand and promptly drags him out of the common room. He can definitely hear some sort of weeping and is positive that it’s one James Potter. Hadrian easily intertwines their fingers, smug with a little smile playing on his lips.

“You’re such a shit.” Sirius laughs, leaning into him as they walk. “Are you planning a robbery?”

“Of all these indecent clothes, yes.” Hadrian responds, nodding curtly to a few 7th years who greet him. 

“Be lucky I didn’t wear mesh or Hogwarts would have a real incident.”

“I’d show you a real incident.” Hadrian huffs but his gaze keeps moving back to him with appreciation. “It’s a wonder I continue to be startled by you.”

“You did want a pretty piece of arm candy.” Sirius bats his eyelashes, waving cheerfully to McGonagall, who does a double take before she sighs deeply and waves them along. “I have to take my job seriously, Hazza.”

“The way you set Alexander Pichler on his ass recently suggests you are more than just arm candy, Sirius Black.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Sirius says primly, hiding his glee. “I am an innocent 6th year, who has never committed crimes nor defends firsties like Seojoon Kim from perpetual ugliness and a sprinkle of racism.”

“Mhm.” Hadrian agrees. “Yet you know many details involving who was present.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying. I simply found Pichler on his ass after he made a snide comment to Kim. I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be open minded. It is a shame about his hair though. Pichler makes an ugly bald man.” Sirius sighs, blinking innocently when Hadrian sends him an amused look. He gives him a sweet smile and Hadrian squeezes his hand.

Sirius didn’t really think he was a hand holding type of person but he’s never really wanted to hold anyone’s hand and Hadrian’s just fits so nicely against his palm. Sirius could feel the minute scars on his knuckles, how the bones shift to curve along Sirius’ fingers. He has truly become James because surely no one else starts obsessing over just hand holding.

“You look lost, maus.” Hadrian comments, a glitter of enjoyment in his face and god, Sirius wants to kiss the shit out of him.

“What?” Sirius blinks, realizing he has been staring and wasn’t that embarrassing. It’s a miracle he hasn’t tripped on anything. He looks away, clearing his throat, cheeks warm. Sirius huffs, lifting his chin. “I’m not going to apologize. I have gawking permission now.”

“Surely not having permission didn’t stop you before.” Hadrian replies and Sirius nudges him.

“I could say the same about you.” Sirius quips. “Probably watching me sleep like some vampire pining after some young girl.”

“Only to track how much drool I should allow to occur before it seeps into my skin like a fungus.” 

Sirius gapes at him, eyes wide. “I do not-”

Hadrian cups a hand around his neck, bringing them to a stop and kisses him hard. “You do. Accept it.”

“Well. Fine.” Sirius responds, feeling fluttery and hot and he pointedly ignores his boyfriend’s knowing gaze. He realizes they’re pretty close to Hogsmeade with a few couples and groups of students bustling about with bags but they’ve veered off the path, more towards the forest. Sirius narrows his eyes, looking back to Hadrian, who is the picture of innocence. 

“What have you plotted?” Sirius asks, following when Hadrian tugs him further away. He finds himself immensely curious and a touch delighted because clearly they were up to no good. 

“There’s an opening in the wards.” Hadrian comments idly. “Right here.”

Hadrian brings them to a stop, turning to Sirius fully with an impish grin that sets his entire body on fire. “As if I’d take you to Hogsmeade on our first date. Don’t worry I’ll have you back before curfew.”

Sirius wouldn’t say no either way, delighted and surprised. He didn’t have any expectations for their first date, mostly because he didn’t really need one. Sirius had what he wanted but this does charm some weird part of his soul like a balm to a healing burn. Hell, he has become soft already. Hadrian sweeps him into his arms and they’re gone with a pop. 

Fuck, Sirius really hates sidealong. He presses his forehead into Hadrian’s collarbone, rattled and shaken like he’s been sucked through more than just a thin straw. Did it always feel like this? His mind slowly scrambles back together and it feels like he’s forgotten something or seen something or just popped back into existence. Hadrian strokes his lower back idly, holding Sirius steady until he manages a nod. Hadrian steps back, lacing their fingers together, expression apologetic.

“I forget it can feel weird with people who aren’t my family. Apologies.”

“Hell, I’m just glad I didn’t throw up.” Sirius laughs, shaking himself. He peers around curiously, noting that they seem to be in a house of some kind. Perhaps a cottage? It’s very quaint and cozy and covered in neatly kept bookcases and a tiny stone stove tucked in the corner. There is a set of narrow stairs leading to a lofted area. “Where are we? Wait. Kiss me.”

Hadrian huffs, amused, tugging Sirius to him. He slides a hand into Sirius’ hair, dragging him up for a searing kiss and Sirius melts against him, curling a hand behind his neck. He presses closer, licking into Hadrian’s mouth, feels that little shiver it invokes, how the hand in his hair tightens and this easily has become one of Sirius’ favorite things to do. Sure, sucking dick was fantastic but you can’t just do that anywhere, hell.

When they part, Sirius is pleasantly buzzing, mind swimming like a herald of goldfish and Hadrian gives him a mean smile, which he does not appreciate (a filthy lie).

“We’re in Munich. Muggle side.” Hadrian responds, amused, watching Sirius reset his brain. “This is a… study, I guess you could call it. Nyx wanted a private place to escape the cats when they’re too much but he refused my father’s other options. Said this was closest to his childhood home.”

“What were the other options?” Sirius asks curiously, taking a final sweeping look as he’s gently tugged through the front door.

“They were all incredibly outlandish and father thought it would be funny to push all of them onto Nyx, who heatedly disagreed.” Hadrian huffs in amusement. “They bicker like a married couple but I suppose they have been together for a decent amount of time and have raised a child together.”

“Nyx seems like a funny dude.”

Hadrian smirks, delighted. “He’s a shit.”

“And you’re not?” Sirius asks sweetly, looking at him.

Hadrian makes a show of ignoring him but squeezes his hand. Sirius wasn’t quite expecting such a cutesy, little space to be situated smack in the center of what clearly is a booming, busy city. He’s never been to Munich before or any part of Germany, mostly because Blacks typically kept to their roots or Britain but he knows Alphard has a side piece or two in Nuremberg and Berlin. Sirius also isn’t fully sure how they managed to get here from Hogwarts without breaking some sort of underage law but Sirius supposes Hadrian and his weird family magic likely has something to do with it.

A few people glance their way but it’s mostly muggles hurrying past with briefcases or clutching bags to their chests. It was always fascinating to see how they work, which felt so inherently different from witches and wizards because they couldn’t just whisk themselves to wherever they’re going. But they certainly dress better than most of the stuffy adults Sirius has seen. Hadrian guides him through the busy sidewalk, pleased by his awe, and dutifully pauses when a woman flags Sirius down to compliment his outfit and they end up talking about jackets of all things because hers is a rich burgundy leather and it is fetching on her figure and he tells her so, watching her face blossom with a radiant smile.

“I fucking love it here.” Sirius tells him after. “Marlene would love it.”

“Next time then.” Hadrian promises and Sirius beams at him. 

“Is your father from Germany?” Sirius asks, unlacing their fingers to hook his arm through Hadrian’s.

“Not at all but he sort of settled here when I was a child. I prefer it to Britain.” Hadrian tells him.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Weidenheim. Along the border of Austria, in the Bavarian Alps.” Hadrian replies smoothly, sending a threatening look to a person who lingers to close as they wait at the crosswalk. 

Sirius perks up, ignoring the scattered rustling beside him of whoever just got cowed. “I’ve heard of it. There’s a… Hmm. Solstice? A Winter Solstice Festival, yes?”

Hadrian appears pleased, sliding his arm around Sirius’ waist once the sign blinks to what appears to be a jauntily running man. “Correct. We also spent time in Nebelstadt because Nyx enjoys weather magic and, dreadfully, divination. I suppose it makes sense but it’s boring.”

“Aren’t you friends with Malfoy? Pandora? How can you say divination is boring?” Sirius laughs.

“Participating and hearing ominous things randomly while trying to study are two separate things.” Hadrian quips easily, guiding him down a truly small, dank looking alley. The walls tremble slightly before a series of bright, fairy lights appear and the alley expands completely, free to debris and mess with laughing wixen set at little tables. Sirius whistles, glancing back to see muggles strolling by unbothered. Magic was so fantastic. 

A dainty little sign hangs over an elaborate, deep navy door towards the end of the alley. Hadrian tugs it open, gesturing for Sirius to head inside. He wasn’t expecting a restaurant, nor was he expecting to see elegant terraces settled inside what appears to be a park. The rest of the restaurant is all exposed brick walls and vaulted ceilings with dimly lit lights that drift lazily overhead. There’s even a violin playing somewhere. A man, likely the host, in a sharply pressed suit slides up to them, smile charming and warm and he’s speaking but it is not English or French, which is understandable as they were clearly in Germany.

Hadrian responds to him easily, a hand pressed into Sirius’ lower back, that low tenor wrapping richly around his words in a way that should not be legal. The man perks up, smile widening, and gestures for them to follow. They’re guided to a private booth with velvet cushions that Sirius simply can’t stop running his fingers over with tall, carved wooden dividers. The host dips slightly at the waist and leaves. Hadrian gracefully slips out of his jacket, forearms bulging slightly as he moves and Sirius stares, stares hard because he fucking can. Hadrian sends him an amused look, sitting across from him and runs two fingers along the polished surface of their table in a circle.

A set of menus appear.

“This is so extra.” Sirius giggles, feeling a bit like a child because wow. Sure, he’s been to fancy restaurants with his parents and family but nothing that held so much charm. Sirius doubts the cooks here even work out of severe debts to the owner of the establishment and have lovely, alive families waiting for them at home. When Sirius touches the menu, it shudders briefly before the words shimmer and translate into French. 

“Oh thank fuck.” Sirius whispers softly. 

“I thought you Blacks knew all kinds of languages.” Hadrian says and Sirius shoots him a look.

“I apologize that German wasn’t on my childhood curriculum.” Sirius sniffs. “Maman thought it was a barbaric language but demanded we know Dutch. Bitter cow.” 

“You could learn now.” Hadrian suggests, eyes flickering over the menu. He sets it to the side. “They have a spell for that actually. Illegal yet still highly regulated.”

“How would you know that?” Sirius asks, charmed. “I’d say I thought you could do no wrong but that would be a filthy lie.”

Hadrian tilts his head, smiling. “I wanted to see if it would work. So, naturally, I speak Swedish now.”

Sirius gasps. “Holy shit. Did you only do Swedish?”

Hadrian nods. “I didn’t really care to learn anything else at the time. I already speak English, obviously, German, Korean, Welsh, very rudimentary Spanish, Hindi, and Portuguese. There are others but they are essentially dead languages.”

“Damn.” Sirius says, leaning against the table. “I don’t know nearly as much. Well, Reg and I know Russian because we thought it would be funny but other than that, French and Dutch. I’m pretty sure Tonton knows German since he’s got hoes everywhere.”

Hadrian lifts an eyebrow, amused. “Tonton?”

“Oh,” Sirius blinks, embarrassed. “Alphard.”

Hadrian huffs a laugh. “Ah, so you are his little cabbage then. I thought he was talking about Regulus. I should’ve known.”

“This is truly the worst revelation of my life. Here I am, in a coma or whatever, and that man just starts casting shade when I can’t defend myself.” Sirius scoffs, cheeks hot, glaring at Hadrian when he laughs again. “Do not speak of this again.”

“Of course, maus.” Hadrian says with a serene smile.

“Your cheek is not appreciated.” Sirius huffs, setting his menu on Hadrian’s. “Pick me something. I’m not picky.”

“That is a lie.” Hadrian glances at the menu and then taps one selection then taps another. “Might I remind you of how Kee made-”

“Ok, ok.” Sirius interrupts heatedly. “That was one time.”

“You, quite literally, vomited-”

“Haz, please.” Sirius whimpers, covering his face with his hands, face hot.

“Of course, maus.” Hadrian chuckles softly. Their dishes arrive incredibly fast and Sirius nearly jumps when a series of plates settle between them as well as silverware. There is an interesting shape of a thick, heavily sliced chunk of meat surrounded in little potato dumplings and a rich, brown sauce. Then a pair of crispy duck confit with red cabbage and caramelized apples. And lastly, a neatly decorated plate of tender meat covered in a dark purple glaze and roasted vegetables. Sirius is overwhelmed and there are so many different smells and he genuinely wants to split his stomach open and just pour things inside.

“Schweinshaxe. Or pork knuckle.” Hadrian gestures to the sliced chunk. “Venison.” He points to the decorated plate. “I’m certain you can ascertain the other dish.”

“Duck!” Sirius chirps happily, swaying in his seat. “So glad I didn’t eat this morning.”

“I noticed.” Hadrian deadpans. 

Sirius sends him an innocent look, earning a fond eye roll, which he considers a win. He doesn’t know where to start and it must show because Hadrian simply fixes a plate for him and passes it over with a lazy flick of his hand. Sirius is more than willing to concede to all of Hadrian’s food related decisions because this shit is fire. He might’ve whimpered, fork in mouth, judging by his boyfriend’s glittering amusement but it’s so good and he wasn’t even a pork person but he is today. Sirius dutifully eats what he’s given, humming happily.

“Do you and your dad come here often?” Sirius asks, stabbing a tiny potato. They were so small. 

“No, actually. I’ve been here twice with Nyx.” Hadrian responds, wiping his mouth gently. “He has heavy opinions and they have not steered me wrong yet.”

“That’s really cute. He’s like your other dad.” Sirius says, looking at him.

Hadrian clears his throat, cheeks pinking a bit. “Quite.”

“Aw, so cute.” Sirius coos, relishing in the glower sent his way. He makes a show of returning back to his plate, working methodically through what remains. Sirius was a bit surprised at how much Hadrian could put away and vaguely wonders where it all goes. Then again, James ate enough to feed 15 on a normal day so maybe it was just their genetics. Sirius gives up on plate two because he will explode and maybe hurl on their way back, which he does not want to do. 

Hadrian does not let him see the bill or touch it but he does let Sirius wear his jacket once they’re outside and the air turns chilly and bitter. Sirius does sniff it deeply once it’s on him and pointedly ignores any smug response that earns, slipping his hand easily into Hadrian’s. Strangely, he does not want to go back to Hogwarts yet even though the sun is starting to stretch rays of dark orange and red across the sky. Sirius supposes they could’ve left earlier but he just wasn’t a morning person, it was a miracle he lasted so long with James’ Quidditch practices.

However, Hadrian does not take them back the way they came and Sirius perks up considerably, curious. They end up in a slowly crowding square with a series of little shops and food stands and then they’re slipping through another tiny, nondescript space between two little buildings and Sirius whistles in sharp appreciation, eyes lighting up to the rounded, fat lights decorating the sky. The shops are brightly lit and cheerful with witches hanging out the doors in billowing hats and heavily decorated dresses and there are so many shops, holy shit. Diagon Alley seemed meek in comparison. There’s also a man selling kneazles and another man fighting off what appears to be a very angry plant of some kind. Sirius wouldn’t know, he nearly failed Herbology.

Hadrian turns to him, lips quirking up. “Wherever you want to go.”

Sirius beams, clutching Hadrian’s hand and fuck, ok, he is thrilled. No one ever lets him drag them around to shops except Marlene and Lily when she’s feeling spiteful. James has attempted but he ends up falling asleep while standing and Sirius ends up losing him in a crowd. Hadrian doesn’t even seem to mind Sirius’ rapidly shifting attention span nor does he let Sirius pay for anything, which does cause numerous stare downs at the register where the witch or wizard checking them out would look between them and then promptly take Hadrian’s money over Sirius’ because of the look he sends them.

“I am not poor.” Sirius mutters, watching Hadrian take the shrunken packages handed to him.

“Of course not, maus.” Hadrian nods solemnly, slipping Sirius’ purchases into his pockets and really Sirius wants to know if he has a wormhole or something because the pocket does not bulge or suggest the sheer amount of shit Hadrian has put away for him. Sirius glares up at him weakly and Hadrian kisses his forehead then promptly steers him out of the shop. Sirius doesn’t need more clothes but alas, he needs them and so does Marlene and Mary and god, Peter, the helpless idiot. Sirius also bought Remus a few sweaters because he’s been looking cold recently. Then James has been eying this specific broom kit that’s been out of stock since last year and viola, they had it here. 

“I need to get stuff for Whisper and Boo.” Sirius says aloud, frowning deeply. 

“Absolutely not.” Hadrian responds, tugging Sirius gently out the way of a group of giggling witches. “They have enough to last them, at least, 8 years between the both of us.”

Sirius pouts, looking up at him. “Then what happens when they get to the 9th year?”

“They’ll die, I assume.” Hadrian chuckles.

“Don’t say that.” Sirius gapes, devastated. “See? We need to get them more things.”

“Or we can get you an owl while we’re here?” Hadrian asks innocently.

“God, no. Take me home.” Sirius huffs, pushing his head against Hadrian’s collarbone. “Please. Unless you want to go somewhere or allow me to spoil your children.”

“Absolutely not.” Hadrian responds, slipping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. They’re gone in a pop.

It’s almost too easy to pretend they’ve been in Hogsmeade all day and McGonagall simply welcomes them back like the other students returning after sending Sirius another scandalized look for his attire. Hell, he’s surprised he didn’t get detention. James meets them at the gates, looking incredibly suspicious and narrow eyed and makes a grand gesture.

“We are on time, cousin.” Hadrian sniffs.

“That is not the concern here, cousin.” James says haughtily. “I, too, had a date today and did not see my pretty, handsome bestfriend or his scary, also handsome guard dog.”

“Am I the best friend?” Hadrian asks sweetly and James flushes, though he notably appears pleased.

“Date with who?” Sirius presses, furious because what the fuck, Potter. “And why wasn’t I informed? Who the fuck dressed you? Did you-”

“Oh my god, please. I was lying.” James whimpers, looking cowed at Sirius’ growing anger. “I just went to Zonko’s with Moony.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at him, assessing. His best friend looks a little sweaty so clearly he is telling the truth lest he get smacked upside the head. “Fine.”

James sways with relief. “Hell, ok. Go get laid. I expect answers tomorrow.”

Sirius squawks, not even able to defend himself because Hadrian loops an arm around his waist with a lazy salute and starts directing him in the opposite direction. James’ cackle trails after them. Sirius huffs, embarrassed, but then looks at Hadrian, specifically his sculpted chest in that shirt, and decides there are worse things to be embarrassed about.

Chapter Text

Sirius wishes he would’ve brought someone with him. Well, Regulus was here roaming the streets doing whatever little troll things little trolls do because Sirius had asked if he needed anything and somehow it became Regulus demanding to go to Diagon Alley with him. Sirius didn’t necessarily mind. He hadn’t had a chance to hang out with his surly baby brother this week. Still, he hadn’t expected to be abandoned so quickly. Sirius wanted to work up to it but Regulus leveled him with a look that felt like a challenge so here he stands.

This felt like a monumental moment of personal growth. Sirius Black was no coward. He stands outside Eeylops Owl Emporium with trepidation in his heart and a laughing letter of approval sent to him by his grandfather after a discussion with the headmaster. He has already drawn many eyes as most students aren’t present in Diagon Alley during the year. It may also be because of how he’s dressed with his tight, tiny shirt and obscene, ripped jeans but he had a reputation to maintain and a boyfriend to seduce, which isn’t hard but getting to see a crack in that usually cool demeanor was well worth anything. 

A witch is leaving when he moves up to the door, her arms filled with a rambunctious bundle of kneazles and a parrot that hangs off her billowing hat. Sirius holds the door for her and she sends him a sweet smile of thanks. He watches her go, wondering if he’ll somehow end up in a similar fate. Sirius heads inside, easily swept into the boisterous energy of the shop. Owls sit on their perches along a bright window. Several kennels are stacked atop of one another. There’s also a row of terrariums. An owl swivels its head to him, sharp and scrutinizing. It turns away leaving Sirius intimidated and dismissed. He almost leaves for the sheer audacity.

“Hello! I’ll be right there!” A woman’s voice rings out.

Sirius squares his shoulders and wanders around, assessing the other types of owls. They vary in height, weight, color and for some reason, beak size. They watch him with wide eyes. Sirius wants to shake himself. He’s a damn dog, a wizard, a dog wizard! His grandfather has become insufferable since whatever letter Hadrian sent him and now there were talks and smug little letters about how this match would be a boon for their family . Hell. And if that wasn’t scary enough, the prospect of fucking marriage should be but no. It’s birds. Birds should not affect him this much but his grandfather’s devil bird has set a precedent. Boo did not count with his tiny body and strange personality. 

Sirius picks up a few dozen packages of owl treats (and a variety of deceased and live animals for Whisper because they are also besties) as he walks around aimlessly. Hadrian was not here to stop him so Sirius will do as he pleases and accept all consequences after. For all his complaints about not wanting to be bullied anymore by any feathered creature, he wishes one would just demand his attention and beat him up so he could throw his hands to the ceiling and say he has no choice but to bring it home and leave.

“Ow! Don’t bite me!” The voice comes again, startling him badly. 

Sirius drops a box of owl treats to avoid spooking a container of mice further, spilling them everywhere. “Shit.”

A strange kak-ing noise responds.

“Sorry! One second!” She hollers then her voice turns low and threatening. “You are a menace. Don’t move.”

The woman emerges, strands of hair spilling from a large bun as if something plucked at it. Her smile is apologetic but kind. She waves her wand, easily cleaning up the mess. The box lifts back into his arms and settles on top of his stash.

“I knew I should’ve invested in baskets. You can leave those at the counter.” The woman tuts. “Welcome! I am Gilly. Have you found what you’re looking for?”

“Oh. Well,” Sirius sets his load down. “I was looking to purchase an owl but I don’t know which one.”

Gilly brightens, clapping her hands. “How exciting! A bit late in the year. Will it be a gift?”

“It’s for me.” Sirius admits, feeling embarrassed. “I’m in my 6th year and have done well without one so far but now I have messages to send and things to buy. My friends are over it. To an extent, I am over it.”

“No better time. I made it to 7th year myself.” Gilly laughs, waving him off. “You’re already doing better than I was.”

Sirius sags in relief. Gilly leads him back towards the owls, her cheerful attitude earning low hoots from the ones the deign to acknowledge them. She rubs the head of a medium sized, fluffy white owl.

“Now, every owl is different so personalities should be taken into account.” Gilly tells him. “I know there are a lot of first years who would simply pick the most appealing and in the majority of those cases, it works out. You look like you need more than a glorified carrier pigeon. Although we do have pigeons. Would you prefer a pigeon? I should’ve asked.”

“My brother would have a fit of hilarity.” Sirius says, amused. “I’d rather not give him the satisfaction. He already refers to me as a glorified pigeon.”

Gilly perks up. “How precious. Ok, no pigeons. What sort of personality would you like?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. I was just sort of hoping one would sit on my head and decide to never leave.” Sirius tells her. “My grandfather has an eagle owl named Mars. He’s a bitch. My boyfriend’s owl, Boo, is really weird and likes to stick his beak into people’s ears and eat hair.”

Gilly’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “In people’s ears? What for?”

Sirius shrugs. “Jury is still out. All he does is chirp.”

“What a strange creature,” Gilly mutters thoughtfully. “Ok. So no domineering personalities-”

There’s a loud crash that startles them both. Gilly whirls around, her expression thunderous as she glares towards the closed door behind the counter. She smooths out her dress, looking a bit frazzled. 

“Excuse me for one second. I received a new addition in June and he is… a handful.” Gilly huffs, rounding the counter. “A well known escape artist, which would be hilarious in any other circumstance. I haven’t been able to sell him officially.”

“Officially?” Sirius tilts his head.

Gilly nods. “I’ve sold him twice before and he would return the same day. The previous owners were not pleased and when one attempted to demand he return, he pooped on her.”

“Wow. What kind of owl is he?” Sirius asks, curious.

“A falcon actually. Peregrine Falcon.” Gilly sniffs daintily. “Why I’ve kept him, I’ll never know but he is quite beautiful. If only he would stay put. He tolerates the owls here well enough but he grows bored easily.”

“How did you end up with him?”

Gilly sighs sadly. “Someone dumped him here I assume. Since he didn’t fly back home and just waited around, I imagine his previous home wasn’t anywhere good. I felt bad for him. He tolerates me to a certain degree but I have been trying to find him a place where he feels comfortable. As I’ve mentioned, he gets bored easily. He also has a strange affinity for magic. It is peculiar as no owl or pigeon I have currently, or prior,  has been so picky. There is a lot of interest for him but he just refuses to acknowledge anyone after the last two homes I sold him too.”

“I’m surprised he allowed himself to be taken then.” Sirius says, tilting his head.

“Hence why he has become less tolerant of me.” Gilly chuckles. “He was very displeased. So he shall remain here until he decides to leave or meets his match.”

Sirius finds himself intrigued, watching Gilly duck back inside the room. A loud series of high-pitched kaks are muffled as the door closes behind her. While owls, and pigeons for the most part, were widely used in the magical world, Sirius doesn’t really understand why Gilly would have a falcon in her inventory but the story makes sense. He boredly rearranges the wares he left on the counter as he waits. Sirius leans forward, eying a variety of gloves on display.

Gilly emerges, looking a bit worse than before, her hair, notably, no longer in a bun. On her shoulder sits the falcon, head moving with slow assessment of their surroundings. His head is a strange midnight blue color with a feathery white chest covered in little black bars. He looks like a menace and Sirius almost feels sorry for Gilly.

“Apologies. Perhaps this will work better. Just ignore him for now. I don’t want you to get bit.” Gilly sighs deeply. “You would not believe how much ink is currently on the floor. Ink that I wasn’t even aware I had back there to begin with.”

Sirius laughs and the falcon hones in on him instantly. It’s not as bad as the owl that sized Sirius up when he entered the shop but is definitely on par with the devil owl, if not worse. Sirius stiffens, trying to read its emotions. He’s definitely being sized up. The falcon’s eyes are large and a rich brown with a ring of yellow. After a long moment, with Gilly looking curiously between them, its beak opens with a musical chirp. Sirius blinks, dumbstruck.

“Holy shit. I didn’t even know falcons could chirp.” Sirius says aloud. “What else can you do?”

If Hadrian were here, he’d give him a look. Talking with birds, talking with Whisper as if he can understand. Which, fair, Sirius can’t necessarily understand vocally but body language usually tells a lot more. Padfoot has Moony experience after all. The falcon lifts its head, wings ruffling a bit as it releases a series of whistles and soft chirps. Gilly’s mouth pops open, eyebrows raised high, and she gasps in delight. She claps her hands a bit.

“This is a first.” Gilly says excitedly. “He’s usually so demure.”

The falcon levels Sirius with a piercing look. Sirius shrugs, “Well, I won’t complain. Do you eat hair?”

The falcon seems immensely offended by this and makes a sharp sound. Sirius raises his hand placatingly, voice apologetic, “It’s not you, I swear. My boyfriend’s owl likes to eat hair. He is very cute but I can’t keep growing out my little bald spots. It’s not a look.”

“You poor dear.” Gilly says sympathetically.

“As I said, he’s very cute.” Sirius sighs, forlorn. He straightens up, fingers drumming along the counter top and the falcon easily closes the distance, perching delicately on his shoulder. It pauses for a moment, head bobbing a bit strangely and lets out a pleased chirp. Gilly gives them a shocked look.

“Sweet. I have a few more requests since this is a partnership and all.” Sirius starts, earning a chirp. “Perfect. Boo would be off limits as are other Hogwarts owls. My boyfriend also has a snake but I know you’re smart and you won’t fuck with her once you realize what she is. Uhm, let’s see. Are you okay with sending letters? Packages?”

The falcon chirps again, nibbling his ear gently. Sirius nods. “Cool, cool. There is an owlery but… I don’t know. I can leave my window open if you’re not down with hanging out with them. I don’t think anyone would notice. You can do falcon things, just let me know if you’re off somewhere far. That alright?”

The falcon whistles.

“Very well. I accept. I wasn’t expecting anything but an owl. But this is way more exciting.” Sirius nods solemnly. “Ok. Hear me out. Aldrich the Goose. My friends would immediately assume I’m shooting the shit and have named an owl something silly. Then bam! A falcon appears. No one would expect a bad ass falcon, ready to rip innards from their stomachs and generally be cool as fuck. The ultimate element of surprise.”

Gilly nods very seriously, though still shocked and confused. Aldrich the Goose, seeming himself to have a flair for dramatics, shrieks loudly, startling several owls. Fuck, he’s perfect.

Sirius beams, punching the air. “Fuck yes! Alright, how much for everything? I won’t offend Aldrich by buying a cage. Feel like he wouldn’t enjoy it, being an escape artist and all.”

Gilly nods again, still appearing shell shocked. She clears her throat. “Well, this was unexpected but I can’t say I’m unhappy with the outcome. Aldrich the…Goose is on the house. I can’t imagine him responding well to anyone else. He may just hunt you down anyway if you leave without him.”

“What? No, we are paying people around here.” Sirius sniffs. Aldrich preens in agreement. “See? A bird of true class. I have owl, er, falcon money. Give me this, Gilly. I will likely never experience buying a feathery creature again.”

“I understand.” Gilly laughs, appearing charmed. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Is there?” Sirius looks to Aldrich, who closes his eyes partially. “Looks like that’s it.”

Gilly rings him up, chatting excitedly about how happy she is that Aldrich has found a home. She asks about Sirius’ classes and what house he’s in. Her excitement is contagious and Sirius finds himself agreeing to send her updates on how Aldrich the Goose is doing. Sirius tucks his purchases into his bag and leaves with a happy wave. He should’ve done this sooner but then he’d likely have missed out on meeting the coolest falcon.

The streets are decently crowded and Aldrich earns Sirius even more looks, which are ignored in favor of sitting on Sirius’ shoulder like a little statue. McGonagall is supposed to meet them at The Leaky Cauldron around noon and really it’s a miracle she didn’t follow him around, instead sending him off with a look, which he did not appreciate but understood. Regulus merely got a curt nod, which also was not appreciated. What did she think Sirius was going to do? Blow up the town? Hell.

It’s a bit early but Sirius can’t think of anywhere else to go in the meantime. His wardrobe is smacked full, there is no need for potion’s ingredients since he just steals them from Hadrian, and he didn’t try out for quidditch this year so a broom wasn’t needed. Sirius also doesn’t know where his brother has scampered off to. He huffs, annoyed, and wanting nothing more than to show Regulus his Not-Goose so he’ll make that strange look he does whenever he’s particularly proud and bemused about something Sirius has done.

“I don’t think there’s a field anywhere near but you’re welcome to head to Hogwarts if you want.” Sirius tells Adrich, who responds with a low noise and doesn’t move. “I appreciate the company. I feel like I’ve been abandoned. Oh, they have a bat milk flavor at Fortescue’s. Apparently it comes with bat wings. Do you think it’s worth a try?”

Aldrich makes an interested chirp.

“My thoughts exactly.” Sirius hums, moving seamlessly through rows of hurrying witches and wizards. Fortescue’s is notably deserted but Sirius didn’t think it’d be busy in the middle of the day, let alone on a Sunday. It’s brightly colored with a 50’s feel with its rounded booths and double edged barstools. The inside has been condensed to two long booths, a few tables and the counter, compared to the elaborate designs Sirius has seen during school shopping. A wide menu glitters behind a long counter, flavors rippling past and changing to their physical appearances before changing back.

“Hi! Welcome to Fortescue’s!” A familiar voice rings out and Alice appears from behind a set of swinging doors, an apron tied around her waist. Her brown hair is cropped short with a pair of dangling phoenix feather earrings adorning her ears. She shrieks, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. “Sirius!”

“Alice! Holy shit, I forgot you work here sometimes.” Sirius says, happily bounding up to the counter. Aldrich holds on admirably. “You look fantastic. Did you finally dump Frank? Is this your glow up era?”

Alice laughs loudly, slapping the counter with her hand. “You’re such a little shit. No, Frank and I are still together. We’re planning a wedding for next year.”

Sirius gasps. “Shut the fuck up. No way! Let me see it!”

“I know! It feels so surreal.” Alice preens, holding out her left hand. A beautiful silver band decorates her ring finger, decorated with little pink diamonds with a larger princess cut diamond nestled in the center. Sirius takes her hand gently in his, trying to reign in his excitement. It fails spectacularly.

“Holy! Fucking! Shit!” Sirius cries, bouncing. “Congratulations!”

Alice blushes. “Thank you, Sirius. Ugh, it’s so funny you’re here. Frank was going to send you a letter in a few weeks. His auror training has him so busy.”

“Psh, fuck that. That’s not why we’re here. You’re getting married! Who even cares about letters?!”

Alice laughs again, delighted, and she squeals, “I’m getting married!”

Aldrich joins in their cheer with a series of chirps and Alice jumps. “Are my eyes deceiving me or did you finally get an owl? Falcon. You got a falcon. Of course, you’d get a falcon instead of a perfectly respectable owl.”

“Hey, hey. Aldrich the Goose and I had an instant connection. Plus, look at him. He’s spectacular.” Sirius gestures to Aldrich, who preens with a flutter of his wings.

“He is stunning.” Alice agrees. “I’m glad I saw him first. I’d have never believed Frank if he said you gotten an owl let alone a fucking falcon. Sirius Black, has the world not taken enough of your dramatics? Also… Aldrich the… Goose?”

“No.” Sirius chirps happily. “There are always more jaws to drop. There’s a reason for the name. Just tell Frank, I have finally gotten a… something and his name is Aldrich the Goose. Imagine his face when he sees this handsome face instead of an owl. Though to be fair, a goose would be scary. Have you met a goose?”

“I’ll send you the memory when he meets Aldrich. I’m going to likely piss myself laughing.” Alice says, wiping her eyes. “I would take a goose over a falcon. Geese are scary. Have you ever seen a falcon hunt though? That’s ok.”

“See,” Sirius turns to Aldrich. “Ultimate element of surprise. The masses will be shook.”

Aldrich whistles. Sirius sniffles, turning back to Alice. “He just gets me.”

“This is truly wonderful, Siri.” Alice says sincerely. “My owl and I are still on the outs and it’s been a year since I stepped on her foot. I still don’t see how this is my fault. What owl walks on the floor?”

“That’s terrifying.” Sirius grimaces. “I didn’t know until recently that owls even had legs. Like actual legs with little feathery pants. It’s so scary.”

Alice howls with laughter, bracing herself on the counter. “How do you think they hunt, Sirius?”

“I don’t know! Like normal birds!” Sirius responds, a bit ruffled. “Not like a grown man pretending to be a strong armed chimp.”

Alice wheezes, tears filling her eyes. “You’re so stupid despite being so smart. Lily told me about your Tooth Fairy take and I’m still thrown on how you even came to that conclusion.”

“Please be nice to me. I have done brave things today.” Sirius sniffs. “Like buying a falcon.”

“Fine, fine.” Alice acquiesces, smiling. “What brings you here today?”

“The bat milk flavor.” Sirius replies. “We want to know if the bat wings are real.”

“Only you.” Alice chuckles. She assesses Aldrich, who is studying the inside of the parlor. “It isn’t popular for obvious reasons but the bat wings are real. I’ll put some in a bowl for Aldrich the Goose.”

Aldrich’s head snaps to her immediately, whistling and chirping with renewed passion. Alice laughs and sets to making their order. Sirius’ strokes Aldrich’s chest, grinning. 

“Alice is the best. Will you join us? I’ll buy yours.”

“Psh,” Alice scoffs, slathering two scoops of ice cream with something black and sticky looking. “My ice cream is always free but I will join you and no, you will not be paying anything. It’s been dead as hell and you need to tell me about your adventurous summer. Frank about had a conniption. I told him there was no way Sirius Black would go out in any way that didn’t involve war crimes or, at the very least, mass murder.”

“You know me too well.” Sirius chuckles.

“I’ve seen you plot, Black. I have on very good authority that you are scary.”

“I’m so nice and innocent and I’ve never done anything wrong ever.”

Alice levels him with an unimpressed look which he returns with a sweet smile. 

“I also have a boyfriend. I’m meeting his dad in, like, two weeks.”

Alice nearly drops their bowls as she rounds the counter. “Shut the fuck up! Sit down. Now!”

Sirius obeys and they settle at a small table near the corner of the shop. Sirius tells Alice about his summer, the block on his magic, how he reconnected with his family, and Hadrian, the aloof, handsome Slytherin she never had the pleasure of meeting since she had graduated the year before. Aldrich happily inhales his bat ears with vigor. He also eats Sirius’ which is just as well. 

Alice leans back in her seat, aghast. “This is all insane. Your mother? Wow. I knew she was a bitch but hell, Siri. And a Slytherin. Who are you and what have you done to my Black?”

“You’d understand if you’ve seen how pretty he is.” Sirius sighs dreamily. “He’s 2nd in his year. And brutal. He vanished Evan Rosier’s legs last year and has injured many more but no one can tell it was him. His familiar is a basilisk. He’s so pretty. His magic feels so good.”

Especially when Sirius is drooling on his cock, those strong fingers fisted in his hair, or being held down with his legs around Hadrian’s waist as he moves against-

“Wait.” Alice whimpers, holding up her hands. “This is so much. Frank is going to lose his shit.”

“I know.” Sirius agrees, dazed and a bit dumb. “I can’t believe he’s mine.”

“Wait.” Alice sits up straight. “How exactly does his magic feel?”

Sirius sighs heavily, mournful. “I’m pretty sure it’s complimentary magic which is just my fucking luck.”

“Oh hell. You know what they say about complimentary magic.” Alice waggles her eyebrows at him and he laughs.

“It… has been challenging.” Sirius admits. “My grandfather would have a conniption. Not to mention my father. It’d be the scandal of the century if somehow I got magically tied. I haven’t even graduated yet.”

Challenging seemed to be the understatement of the century. It was tolerable when they just kissed but anything beyond that turned so rampant so quickly that it was hard to resist. Hadrian had more self control than Sirius but even he would have to step away completely. If Sirius was an artist, he’d paint the visual and spread it all over the school. Hadrian, usually so calm, so together, nearly vibrating out of his skin, his pupils blown wide. 

Sirius wasn’t really sure why he had such a strong magical yearning, or whatever, to Hadrian but he wasn’t complaining. He was but for purely visceral, teenaged boy reasons. 

Sirius sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes. “Definitely challenging. And complicated. I’ve never felt more blue balled in my life even when I’ve just cum.”

Alice whistles loudly, her expression sympathetic. “Oof, I can only imagine. I love Frank but I'm so glad I don’t have to go through that. I’d have lost my wits within weeks. Especially with that mother of his.”

“Still kicking, is she?” Sirius laughs.

“She gets stronger every year. I swear she’s a boggart.” Alice drags her spoon through her melting ice cream, eyes wide and disbelieving. “There is so much to unpack here. Wow, this trumps me getting married.”

“Absolutely not.” Sirius shakes his head furiously. “I’ve been waiting for this since my 2nd year. I have been praying for this since you turned Frank Longbottom into a ferret and tried to flush him down a toilet.”

“I think that’s when he fell for me.” Alice sighs happily.

“It definitely was. Frank goes full rooster with how cocky he can be. He’s worse than James.” Sirius laughs, finally remembering his ice cream. It’s an ominous blend of colors. “Cocky men love badass women. Keeps them humble.”

“And how is James’ pursuit of one Lily Evans?” Alice flutters her eyelashes at him.

“I should be asking you.” Sirius takes a bite of his ice cream, senses flooded with a savory, thick, steaming texture, and gags. “Absolutely not.”

Alice bursts out laughing. “I told you it wasn’t popular.”

“God, that’s fucking vile.” Sirius wipes his mouth roughly with a napkin. “Do bats even have milk?”

“Sure do.” Alice says ominously. She sends him a serene smile. Sirius pointedly pushes his bowl away, much to her evident delight. “It is a bit savory but I’ve eaten stranger things than bat milk and blended organs.”

“You said what now?” Sirius feels ill. “Organs?”

“Did I say that?” Alice blinks innocently. She nudges the bowl to Aldrich, who eyes it curiously. He nibbles at it, slowly at first, before working it quickly down his throat. “Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. I definitely meant to say bat milk and the remaining bits, organs and all.”

“I truly hate you.” Sirius whines. Aldrich does not chirp in agreement. 

There’s a quick knock at the window and McGonagall stands on the other side of the glass, looking a bit harried, her stern gaze icy and furious. Sirius stiffens, glancing at his watch. It’s barely noon and he doesn't understand why she’s so upset. Regulus is nowhere in sight. Sirius straightens immediately. Did something happen? Alice sends him a sympathetic look and gathers the bowls up.

“We’ll catch up soon. Send Aldrich and we can coordinate to meet up. Oooh, send him to Frank first.” Alice laughs.

“I will.” Sirius agrees, rising to his feet. “I’ll see you soon!”

Alice waves jovially as he leaves. Sirius meets McGonagall outside, her large hat blocking the sun when he slides up to her. She hardly says a word, setting a quick pace from Fortescue’s. Sirius follows her, bristling with unease. Aldrich tenses on his shoulders, wings pressed tight to his body. When McGonagall turns down the alley that leads to The Leaky Cauldron, Sirius hesitates, staring at the narrow passage. She pauses midway, turning to face him, hands steepled together.

“Where is Reg?” Sirius asks, palms sweating.

“He was expected back sooner. The Headmaster is waiting.”

Sirius doesn’t move, a few wizards stumbling around him with annoyed glaces. Some linger with curious, nosy glances. He ignores them, every hair on his neck rising and filters through any reasons the Headmaster would need to speak with him. Grandfather refused to speak to Dumbledore unless it was directly related to Sirius or Regulus and it was always a follow up discussion from one they already had. Papa also refuses to speak with Dumbledore. Sirius narrows his eyes, shifting his feet.

“For what?” He asks. “The Headmaster has no reason to speak with me. Or Regulus.”

“Mr. Black, while you may not have a meeting with him, I do. Your brother had separate business to attend to.” McGonagall replies sternly. “It is a last minute emergency that requires my expertise. Now, if you are finished, come.”

Sirius takes a step, then another but refuses to move any further down the alley. “Of course, professor. Did Reg say why he needed to leave? We’ve barely been here an hour.”

“An hour is enough time, Mr. Black.” She noticeably does not answer his question.

“Funny. We’ve been here for two. Professor McGonagall asked to leave a bit earlier as she had a few errands to run.” Sirius quips, flicking his wand into his hand. “Where the fuck is my brother?”

McGonagall cracks a wide smile then cackles, her disguise fading away to reveal a familiar smile and mess of wildly curly hair that spills past her hips. Her hat fades into nothing, McGonagall’s robes dissolving into a tight, revealing black dress that drags along the alley floor. Sirius stiffens, nostrils flaring and Bellatrix coos at him, wand in hand. Someone behind him makes a shout of surprise.

“What do you want, Bella?” Sirius hisses, clamping down hard on his anger. It is an immense struggle judging on how the air begins to spark. “Where the fuck is Reg?”

“I’m here for you, of course.” Bellatrix smiles sweetly. “There is someone I’d like you to meet and someone who would love to see you. It’ll be a joyous family meeting!”

“I’ll pass.” Sirius grits out. “There’s no one I need to see.”

“Nothing can stop a mother’s desire to see her beloved son, little star.” Bellatrix croons. “Ickle, baby Weggie is depending on your arrival after all.”

Sirius pales, his hands shaking a bit and he takes a hesitant step back. There is hardly time to think about the repercussions of using underage magic, about the entire situation because Bellatrix is already hurling curses at him. Aldrich takes to the sky easily with a shrieking call. A spell narrowly misses Sirius, crashing into a shop across the street. Sirius’s ears are ringing, panic flooding his veins as he spits out counter after counter. They’re too overpowered but Sirius can’t find it in him to care when Bella is pushing back hard and fast.

There’s screaming. Brick shattering between them and the ground splits as they trade spell for spell. It’s a kaleidoscope of colors and chaos. Aldrich dives sharp and fast at Bellatrix, clawing at her face and neck with honed precision. Blood splatters against brick. She shrieks, swiping madly at him. Sirius casts a protection spell at Aldrich just as Bellatrix fires a curse at him. Aldrich ducks out the way, his high kak of alarm sending shivers down Sirius’ spine.

“You damn bloody bird!” Bellatrix snarls, sickly green leaving her wand and Sirius whips out quickly, snatching Aldrich out of the air. The brief distraction costs him, a spell smacking Sirius right in the shoulder. It shatters on impact and he staggers back with a startled scream. More yelling could be heard from those on the streets. Blazing pain ripples through him. Sirius grits his teeth, retaliating with heavier spells. Bellatrix cackles.

“You’ve become rusty, baby cousin. Worried about your little bird? Oh, or is that little snakey that keeps you warm at night keeping you distracted?” She coos. “You’re coming whether you like it or not. Even if that means we’ll be eating pheasant tonight.”

“Fuck off.” Sirius snarls, sending a disarming curse at her. Aldrich follows up with shriek, clawing at her face again. There are numerous pops of apparition and Bellatrix’s eyes go wide with anger. An auror appears beside Sirius, his wand drawn, and he moves to grab Sirius but he isn’t fast enough. Bellatrix snatches Aldrich out of the air with a sharp flick of her hand and sends him spiraling towards Sirius. Sirius catches him reflexively, wide eyed, and there’s a sharp pull that follows a spell to his chest. He manages to send Aldrich off with a wheeze, his shoulder screaming in agony as he’s dragged down the alley. His wand clatters to the ground. 

“Find Hadrian Peverell or Orion Black!” Sirius shouts at Aldrich just as Bellatrix’s long nails curl against his throat. Blood is on her fingers, dripping and so strong it makes him gag. Sirius slams his head back into Bellatrix’s nose, clawing at her arms as he struggles to escape. She hunkers down tightly, hand a vice around his neck. There are shouts from arriving aurors but the last thing he hears is Aldrich’s shrill cry as he dives towards them, his eyes so incredibly wide. Aldrich nearly makes it, the tip of his beak brushing against Sirius’ outstretched hand just as Bellatrix turns sharply with a snarl. 

Sirius feels nothing but despair as Aldrich disappears from his vision in a deafening pop.

Chapter Text

Everything hurts.

Regulus breathes heavily through his mouth, eyes swollen shut, and his entire body throbs with sheer agony. He can’t feel his legs, barely registers the twitch of his fingers. His mind protests violently any attempts of coherency. There’s a low tap, tap, tap of heels clicking somewhere in the distance. Regulus tries to move but it hurts and his body feels weighed down and heavy. His head is pounding.

“Oh, Regulus. You’ve made a mess.” His mother’s voice rings out. “Distasteful. We have discussed this uncivil behavior before. You will stand.”

He can’t, Regulus wants to say. His mouth refuses to cooperate. His eyes won’t open and his heart pumps wildly in his chest. He doesn’t remember what happened, doesn’t know why his mother is upset with him but he knows that’s wrong, something’s wrong. Sharp fingers tangle in his hair, nails biting into his scalp and Regulus is dragged roughly to his knees. There is a wand in his throat.

“Stand.” His mother hisses.

Regulus struggles to obey. His knees buckle immediately causing him to crash back into the floor. A whimper escapes his lips, managing to curl his stiff fingers into fists. There’s a smear of thick, clotted liquid beneath him. It smells rancid with bile and he chokes against the sudden onslaught of senses. His mouth is sour, jaw aching and pulsing and one of his ankles feels broken and wrong. Regulus breathes harshly, pulling his fists under him and forces himself up. His arms tremble with effort. He still can’t manage to open his eyes.

“I do not enjoy asking twice, Regulus Arcturus, but I understand it has been some time between your lessons.” His mother drawls and that tap of her heels is back. “You’d do well to remember this punishment. You have nearly cost this house. You have nearly cost me your brother. A disgrace you have become. I have raised you better than this.”

“Yes, maman.” Regulus whispers, feeling haphazard, delusional and he doesn’t understand but he will not ask. The tip of her wand touches his temple and a wave of relief passes through him as the pain rattling inside his skull ceases. At last, Regulus opens his eyes. He wishes he hadn’t. His stomach lurches sourly as he takes in the room he’s in. 

It’s his room, but his bed has been destroyed, foam and cotton spilling out from a series of deep, ragged cuts. The pictures that once adorned the walls are nothing but horribly burned frames or hollow imprints where they might’ve been. Any personal belongings are gone beyond the bed, even his desk and the slytherin sweater Barty had nicked for him from a 7th year last winter. Regulus looks down, realizing he’s kneeling in his own filth and covered in it. His wand isn’t in his holster anymore, which is broken and shattered around his wrist. However, he can feel the cool metal of Barty’s knife strapped to his ribs.

Regulus’ mouth trembles. Oh, he must’ve done something wrong. Regulus wishes Sirius was here. Were they arguing? Was Sirius upset with him? Why is everyone so mad at me, Regulus thinks drowsily.

“Sirius is being retrieved.” His mother informs him, nose wrinkling at his appearance. “I trust you will behave yourself. Lest I become angry. Am I clear, Regulus?”

Regulus nods, dazedly. “Yes, maman.”

He doesn’t understand where Sirius will be arriving from. They lived here. How strange. Was Sirius not here already? Regulus can feel him, can feel him everywhere. His skull pulses with his heartbeat. Regulus shakes his head and the room spins. That’s not right. Sirius wouldn’t be here. Should… Should Regulus be here? No, they don’t live here anymore, haven’t lived here since mid summer. Regulus’ heart skips a beat. Then why was he here? He fights a frown, knowing it would displease his mother greatly and nods again, slower this time. She makes a low noise of approval. Magic tingles over him. His clothes are dry, the mess is gone, but his ankle still throbs with agony. His mind still feels so, so wobbly.

“Our guests are here. You will walk.”

I can’t, Regulus thinks but he stands and nearly collapses. His mother slaps him hard and Regulus nods rapidly, forcing himself upright even as his leg screams in protest. Regulus nearly throws up again. He swallows it down, managing to meet his mother’s gaze and she lifts her head in approval. His mother turns sharply on her heel, long gown flowing across the floor as she strides through his bedroom door. She presses her wand into his face when he limps after her.

“Any sign of you uttering that traitorous elf’s name will end up with him mounted on my wall. Do you understand?”

Regulus swallows hard. “Yes, maman.”

“Good.” His mother lifts her chin. “You have both caused me enough grief.”

Regulus slowly trails after her, agonized and fighting the tremble that sets deep in his bones. He feels sick, his stomach is in knots with grief and a sickening despair. Regulus knows his mother’s fury well and this felt miniscule and simple in comparison to what she’s put him through before, what she’s put his brother through before. He doesn’t know how many times he’s ended up under her wand only to be bodily knocked aside by his furious, idiotic older brother. Sometimes he was too late, sometimes he was loud, louder than anything in this house like it could detract from something Regulus had said, a ploy, a red herring.

But Sirius was not here now.

But Regulus can feel him like he did the night they left. However, there is no desperation here, no fear, like a still lake waiting for a ripple. Regulus does not understand why he can feel Sirius in Grimmauld if he wasn’t present. He listens to the quiet tap of his mother’s heels and hears a whisper, a ghost and looks behind him. The hallway is empty. Regulus swallows thickly, turning back to where his mother has disappeared down the hall. He hurries after her and jerks his ankle just so in his haste. Surging agony pulses white hot through him and Regulus gasps softly, bracing himself on the wall. He pants, teeth gritted together to prevent a scream from escaping.

Tears burn his eyes. That would not do. Regulus was a Black. Pain was a secondary emotion to pride and he would not allow whatever people his mother’s dares to bring into this house see any weakness. Regulus breathes, harshly, pushing himself upright, one hand braced on the wall and it bubbles beneath his palm, followed by a tiny spark of magic. He jerks back, startled, hand cradled to his chest. The wallpaper works slowly like a bubble before it settles quietly. Regulus looks down at his hand, unharmed, and fights to remember where he’s felt such magic before.

Regulus gingerly places his hand back and the wall breathes, like a fluttery ball of warmth and his mind spills together in a mirage of swirling colors. That night comes back with a sharp clarity, staring into that pair of desolate, inky eyes, the rows and rows of teeth and that vile, awful feeling before it had settled against him, acknowledged him, and Regulus’ breath stutters in his chest. A realization slowly dawns on him. Sirius’ unsettled magical core despite it being months since that night, why it still hadn’t fully recovered.

“You left a piece behind.” Regulus whispers, watching dazedly as the wall writhes underneath him and slides between his fingers like a hand, the wallpaper splintering with the stress caused by the action. It pulses, asking, searching. He can’t feel any wards. Then that would mean there are no wards inside this house. Regulus frowns, shaking himself. Surely, their grandfather would’ve noticed, unless… he had noticed but that would mean..

Regulus doesn’t understand and he can hear the rapid footsteps of his mother’s imminent return and when he moves away, the hand in the wall snags his wrist tightly, pulsing and pulsing and the pain in his ankle begins to numb and chill and fade. It slithers away with a dull snap, leaving him rattled and shaken and panting. The wall stands before him, unmoving, unchanged as if it never happened.

“Regulus.” His mother says evenly.

“Apologies.” Regulus responds, fighting to keep his voice level. Her face twitches but she does not pull her wand at him. His mother turns, sending him one last hard, speculative glance and heads back down the hall. Regulus follows after her, the twinges of pain in his leg slowly dissolving into nothing until his strides are even and firm. He spares glances at the walls they pass but there is no sign of what he had seen before, what he felt but he knows it’s there, waiting, watching.

Regulus wonders if his mother feels it, feels Sirius but he doesn’t think that even his brother’s magic would respond to her in any capacity. There are voices in the distance, growing louder as they descend the steps and they’re jeering and laughing and Regulus wonders who would willingly come here. The event of the summer spread through houses like an onslaught of spilled ink, its after effects and what happened were heavy with speculation and curiosity. 

When Regulus had returned for term, his house members had many questions and would probe and probe for a sliver of confirmation to what truly happened because clearly Walburga Black would never do such a thing, the Prophet must’ve been wrong and that's why Lord Black had the issues pulled and the reporter fired with his professional life in shambles. A Black’s duty was to their house so Regulus kept silent, allowing them to speculate and twist their perceptions into their own menial answers. Then there were the rumors of his brother’s eruptive, unstable magic and the Slytherins would titter and grin, Rosier and Mulciber especially as if they would be even close to the caliber of a Black, broken or not.

Regulus does not think anyone in their house would be brave enough to ask Hadrian directly, who was clearly smitten with Sirius and willing to defend his familiarity with the same viciousness he had when it came to Pandora Malfoy, Henry McMilson, and Lily Evans. Regulus found himself hesitant by the nature of his relationship with Sirius at the beginning, had argued furiously against it out of fear for his brother because the timing felt too coincidental. Sirius was already hurt by those damned Gyrffindors, isolated and temperamental and Regulus did not know Hadrian Peverell well enough to trust such a fragile state with him. Then he had felt his fury at Potter Manor, his blinding, erosive fear and Regulus knew that, for once, his brother had chosen right.

And then he himself had talked to Hadrian Peverell, truly talked to him beyond their curt greetings in the Slytherin common room and he felt so different than Potter, his quiet presence, how he could effectively shut Sirius down when he was particularly awful with that mouth and that temper of his but there was never any judgment in his gaze, just acceptance, something Regulus himself could almost never offer because Sirius always knew where to pick, where to hurt when he was hurting. How he could make Sirius laugh so easily, never wanted him watered down, never wanted him as anything but himself.

Regulus can only imagine Hadrian’s anger once neither of them return to Hogwarts.

He does not know most of the men who lounge in the sitting room, dressed in simple, heavy black robes with gaudy, silver masks in their fingers but he does recognize Malfoy, Cissa’s husband, and Bellatrix’s future husband and his brother and… Evan Rosier. Sharp, heavy anger builds inside him alongside a slow swell of betrayal. Regulus remembers now, Sirius asking if he needed anything from Diagon Alley after draping himself over Regulus like some fool at the Slytherin table, his own demands to join because he hadn’t spent much time with his brother recently and hell, he missed him. He had barely left Sirius to his juvenile owl purchase, intending to snatch up a box of those disgusting, peanut butter snacks Sirius loved so much, before the world went dark.

Rosier sends him a lazy shrug, a flicker of an apology in his face before it’s swept away completely. Regulus idly wonders if Barty was involved. He, privately, hopes Barty wasn’t involved but Rosier always seemed to charm him in a way Regulus never could. 

“Black, I am gratified to see you looking so well.” Malfoy greets smoothly, his long blonde hair tied at the neck in a simple ribbon. “Quite a stir your… brother has caused.”

“Watch your tongue.” His mother says curtly and Malfoy inclines his head in apology, a flicker of something passing through his face.

Rodolphus tips his head in greeting, a glass of whiskey in hand. “No need to be unpleasant, auntie. We all are a bit curious about the heir of your house.”

“What good is a broken brat to us?” Rabastan sneers nastily. 

Regulus masks his offense well but his mother does not, snarling wordlessly as she swipes her wand and Rabastan goes down like stone, writhing and choking on a scream. Rodolphus peers down at him, unsympathetic, and merely raises his glass to Walburga then takes a healthy gulp of his drink. No one moves to assist Rabastan and Regulus isn’t fully sure of what the dynamic is presently or if there even was one. Or if his mother simply had something they needed.

Regulus glances at Rosier from his peripheral, quiet, demure like a sullen child and so unlike the proud, spitting boy he shared a dorm room with. A shimmery burst of light fills the room and a lone raven appears. It opens its beak, “Bellatrix has confirmed sighting. Prepare for my arrival.”

Regulus does not whose voice this is but the energy of the room changes sharply. Malfoy dons his mask as does Rodolphus and the others, rising to their feet as one unified front. Rabastan limps to his feet, gritting his teeth as he slides his mask on. It’s disturbing, the way their demeanors have become serious, almost reverent as they shuffle into a neatly file line. His mother points to the chair Rodolphus was lounging in and lifts her chin at him. Regulus slowly moves to sit, smoothly crossing one leg over the other, struggling to keep his expression cool. He has many questions that he will not voice.

There is a sharp pop and the air turns stagnant and oppressive like a billowing steam. His mother moves to stand at his left, hands clasped politely in front of her. A man enters the sitting room, his robes rich and fine, but he, himself, appears strange, sickly almost. His eyes are sunken and a peculiar shade of burgundy with pupils that slit and expand like a breathing sentinel. He may have been handsome at some point but his features are distorted, smoothing back into his skull as if becoming something less than human. His hair is dark, thinning heavily on all sides but there is power in his stance, rank with a heady, dark magic. 

Regulus does not flinch at such a flex but his fists tighten in his lap subtly, struggling to hide his offense. The man notices, pupils sharpening into a thin line, and he hums slowly, examining Regulus the same way he is being examined. His mother lays her hand on Regulus’ shoulder, nails digging in hard and Regulus exhales through his nose quietly. He did not know this man but to come into a Black’s house and strut about your magic was an immense insult. Regulus wasn’t aware his mother kept such rude, offensive company but clearly her evident fall from social standing has made her lax.

“Regulus Black.” The man intones, a subtle hissing quality to his voice that turns his voice raspy. He takes a graceful seat across from him. “I am Lord Voldemort.”

At least he has some manners, Regulus thinks, lifting his chin. His palms sweat, watching the slow expelling of Voldemort’s magic, how it slithers and writhes and while Regulus would rather not be alone with no allies in this situation, he is gratified his brother was not present currently. He could already see his ruffled posture, the flare of his nostrils and Sirius could pretend all he wanted that his roots weren’t ingrained in their family but that temper, how he handles his offense, handles threats was every inch of a Black. He would not respond well to Voldemort at all.

“I am gratified to make your acquaintance.” Regulus states evenly. “I’d offer you tea, however, I was unaware I had any outstanding meetings today.”

His mother’s hand on his shoulder tightens and the men shift quietly. Malfoy tilts his head in Regulus’ direction, hands curled into fists at his sides. A flash of amusement flickers through Voldemort’s strange eyes, slumping a bit in his seat with such casualness that Regulus does, then, bristle in displeasure. He may be young but the dismissal of his abilities is plain.

“You wear your offense poorly, Regulus Black. I expected better from a member of the House of Black.” Voldemort says, tilting his head. His eyes are assessing and Regulus feels a hard, sharp probe in his mind. He grinds his molars together, struggling against the rapid onslaught of pressure ripping through his shields like paper. Regulus can see himself, much smaller, staring up at his brother’s back as he argues heatedly with their mother, then it's himself arguing with Sirius, both of them older now, and Sirius is staring back at him, incensed and furious and shoving him for calling Lily Evans a mudblood. 

Then it’s him watching Sirius with those friends of his, laughing and smiling as if Regulus hadn’t just rejected him soundly in front of them, hadn’t seen that look of quiet devastation on Sirius’ face before James Potter swept him under his arm. It’s Regulus telling Rosier and Barty that he hates Sirius, hates him, hates him, hates him. How hard it was to rise to any sort of favor in his mother’s eyes when his brother was such a blistering idiot, who wouldn’t even bend his beliefs for his family. It all spins together like a catastrophe, like one of those muggle car crashes until it lands sharply on the night they left Grimmauld, Sirius still and freezing in his arms, covered in that sickly black vomit. How Regulus had felt nothing but devastation and regret.

Voldemort hums thoughtfully, sitting back in his seat and Regulus pants harshly, feeling wrong and winded and sick. His emotions are writhing inside him like a tidal wave that spins and spins until it’s ping ponging between anger and fear and anger and fear, back and forth, back and forth. Regulus grits his teeth, hands shaking in his lap and god, is that all his relationship with Sirius was for so long? Him being angry at Sirius, him being scared for Sirius. His idiot, older brother who could never kneel, never bend and would claw his way towards survival, towards freedom like a wounded animal until it killed him.

“How does it feel to be so weak in the face of what you’ve encountered?” Voldemort’s voice rips Regulus sharply out of his thoughts. “Will you continue to hide behind your brother’s magic until he finally realizes what little spine you have, Regulus Black?”

That’s my job, Sirius would say with that stupid grin, even with blood dripping down his face and his nose fractured and his body broken and bleeding. I’m your big brother. I’m your shield. My house won’t change that, Reg. Regulus swallows hard, fighting back a frown. It is telling that this man only targeted his memories of Sirius. He means to prey on weakness, he thinks idly. Perhaps a year ago Regulus would’ve taken the bait, perhaps if Sirius had left this past summer without him, he would’ve taken it. 

But they were better now. 

And Sirius has earned Regulus’ loyalty even if he is insufferable and an idiot and a fool, who sneaks into his dorm to leave him caramelized cherries because he knows Regulus loves them even if he says he doesn’t. 

“Sirius is useful as he should be. He will be my head of house after all.” Regulus replies firmly. He can hear the quiet shaky inhale of his mother. How unexpected his words must be to her. Regulus, who argued that Sirius would never rise to take up his mantle, would never be worthy of it, now in agreement with his father, his grandfather. They had many talks over the summer, especially after moving into Black Manor. Regulus knew his brother had his own reservations about his abilities, about who he was but Regulus is finally realizing that Sirius was a Black, finely crafted calligraphy in a slightly different font. As he had always been.

“Do you not have your own ideals for greatness? Apart from your family, apart from Sirius Black. Or will you wilt away like an afterthought on the wrong side?” Voldemort presses, appearing curious.

“A Black’s duty is to their house. Our loyalty is not shared.” Regulus quips. “I’m certain my mother informed you of that.”

“Yet I have Bellatrix and the husband of your cousin, Narcissa.” Voldemort replies smoothly. “Seeing as I am welcome in this house, I have your mother as well.”

Because there are no wards, Regulus thinks. “I am none of them. My loyalty is not bought so cheaply.” He says aloud. 

There’s a loud crash, followed by a horrendous noise of scuffling and loud shrieking. Regulus can pinpoint exactly who has arrived by the sudden buzzing in his ear, how the wallpaper begins to ripple subtly and that whisper is back with a startling clarity. Regulus straightens in his seat, eyes flickering to the quivering chandelier. He doesn’t understand how no one has noticed. The robed men shuffle towards the sitting room opening, peering curiously into the hallway. Voldemort inclines his head, listening and makes a low, disappointed noise. 

Bellatrix’s voice rings through the air. “You and that blasted-” 

“Get your fucking hands off me, you goddamn cow!” Sirius snarls furiously. He laughs in that loud, sharp way of his. “At least your face finally matches that ugly personality of yours.”

“You little-” Bellatrix shrieks suddenly. “Don’t bite me!” 

“You tried to kill my fucking bird, bitch! I’ll fucking bite if I feel like it!” Sirius shouts. More struggling can be heard and Bellatrix hisses loudly. There’s a bodily thump and Sirius whines in pain. “God, you fucking suck.”

“Walburga, assist your niece.” Voldemort dismisses and Regulus bristles, nearly gaping when his mother obeys this man. He moves to follow her when a hand is suddenly curling around his neck, a wand digging hard into his jaw. Regulus peers up to see Rosier standing over him, his blue eyes a bit frenzied. His wand trembles in his hand. Voldemort nods in approval, rising smoothly to his feet. 

“I should have your head for bringing such failure.” Voldemort says quietly. “However, I am certain this situation can be salvaged. Your life now depends on it.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rosier swallows.

“No. No! Y-You stay the fuck away-” Sirius makes a broken, pained noise and chokes. He falls silent, gagging softly around something. Their mother coos. Bellatrix grunts lowly. The sound of a body slumping heavily onto the floor follows. Regulus swallows hard, hands white knuckled on the armchair. 

“There is such bliss now.” Voldemort comments idly, steepling his fingers together. He narrows his eyes, turning thoughtfully to Regulus. “I don’t have to impress how necessary it is for you to keep control of your… companion, do I? If he attempts to interfere, kill him. I don’t need him alive to get what I need, not truly. His parts would be sufficient enough.”

Regulus does not know what expression Rosier makes but Voldermort snarls at him.

“You may have been of use to me but you are just as expendable, Evan Rosier.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rosier responds immediately.

“Good. Remain here.” Voldemort dismisses easily with a simple wave of his hand. He strides out of the sitting room and the cloaked men trail after him, Malfoy glancing in their direction a final time before he leaves. Rosier sags against him, flexing his fingers over his wand but he does not remove it.

Regulus snorts derisively, folding his arms across his chest. He fingers Barty’s knife, heart in his throat. “A Rosier working for a no-named upstart. How tragic.”

“Shut up.” Rosier hisses furiously. “As if you’re any better. Clinging to your brother’s skirt like a helpless child. Lord Voldemort is right. You are spineless. I don’t understand what Barty sees in you.”

“Careful, Rosier. You sound jealous. Haven’t gotten Barty to join your little farce yet?” Regulus asks, subtly slipping his fingers into the small opening between the buttons of his shirt. He remembers when Barty first gave the knife to him, all pink cheeks and bashful as he scratched his ear. A gift, he had said. This is barbaric, Regulus had responded and Barty had laughed and grinned and winked and he looked so stunning in that moment, a strange softness that was cradled in sincerity. Never know when you might not have a wand. Don’t get caught lackin’, Reg.

“He will.” Rosier’s voice trembles a bit. His wand presses harder. “He will. Barty just needs to understand. I don’t need you for that. In fact, I don’t need you at all. You heard him. You’re only good for parts, spare. Be grateful I even considered your sorry ass for such a great cause.”

A Black bows to no one, his mind hisses. 

“Ah, if I join, Barty will surely follow. Sounds like you need me after all, Rosier.”

“You will join us. This relationship has run its course regardless.” Rosier says, glaring down at him. His eyes widen slightly, catching Regulus’ movements and an eruption of rage and bitter, ugly acceptance.

“You’re right. It has.” Regulus grasps the handle of the knife tightly.

Chapter Text

Sirius blinks, exhausted, at the floor. His shoulder, healed but sore and aching, protests violently with every shaky breath he takes. A choked noise escapes his throat, thick leather wedged behind his teeth. He coughs slightly, a drivel of droop spilling down his chin. Sirius can barely swallow with how tight and far the gag is. He sluggishly moves his head, taking in the familiar stretch of his childhood home’s dining room. The low chandelier twinkles merrily at him.

A myriad of dishes decorate the table, freshly made and steaming. Sirius sits directly at one end, facing the empty chair at the head. There are voices in the distance but he can’t make them out. A whisper coos directly in his ear and he startles badly, looking around. There is no one but the room spins and spins and spins. Sirius breathes heavily, trying to gnaw at the gag to no avail. His wrists are bound tightly, sharp straps digging and pinching into his skin. Sirius groans weakly, a fresh wave of irritation writhing through him. He distantly realizes that this is the first day he’s left his dorm without Hadrian’s bracelet.

What a fucking idiot, Sirius thinks bitterly. He’d admire their planning if it didn’t affect him directly. Ophelia must’ve already come by. He doesn’t know if Aldrich was able to make out his final orders. Sirius’ eyelids droop heavily and he struggles to shake his head clear. He feels incredibly tired and knows it’s intentional. Maman was always a quick study and whatever she shoved down his throat has him feeling like papermache. Sirius tugs at his binds fruitlessly. He tries to think but it’s hard. Sirius sags, winded, his ears straining to make out what the whispers are saying. It doesn’t sound like anything human, like a whisper in the wind. Something is calling for him, in the house, in the walls.

Sirius shakes his head sluggishly. 

The chair he’s in doesn’t feel enforced. Sirius frowns, gathering enough energy to slam his foot into the table. The chair does not budge. He screams wordlessly, helpless, a spark of fear lighting up his spine. Sirius slams his food into the table again, causing it to shake and shift backwards, sending dishes caroling to the floor. His chair barely moves. 

“That is quite enough.” Walburga’s voice rattles him completely.

Sirius whips his head to see his mother standing at the entrance, her expression cold but her eyes are bright and feverish. The room spins dangerously. Sirius shakes his head, drowsy, and the room sharply settles back in place. Walburga wanders towards him, her long, elegant gown fluttering across the floor. Her hair is down, nearly as long as Bellatrix’s. It’s surreal, seeing her like this, seeing her at all. Sirius should’ve demanded for her head, he should’ve killed her himself. Kreacher living would’ve been a boon in comparison.

“So unhappy to see me, little one.” Walburga says, cupping his chin in her hand. She digs her nails in. “After all, this is a wondrous occasion. You have finally proven yourself of your worth. Our lineage. Oh, even muddled and bound like an animal, you are still beautiful. Your magic is beautiful, Sirius.”

Walburga pushes him away, her red lips spreading into an eerie smile. “You’ve always appreciated a good plot so how did I do? Just a tweak of weak people, a little waiting, and perfection. Your grandfather is as predictable as he is foolish. You should never leave someone as determined as I alone for too long. I thought he would’ve learned with Orion. What is the saying? There is no match for the work of the devil?”

Sirius glares weakly at her, face flushed with exertion. A bead of sweat falls into his eye.

“It will fade eventually. Another hour.” Walburga assures him, her voice gentle. “I can’t have you messing this up with that mouth of yours. After all, you are known to get into trouble with it.”

There’s a sharp click of heels along the marble floor and Bellatrix appears with a seedy grin. Her face has been healed, which is a true tragedy as he loved Aldrich’s work and a crooked nose suited her better. She waves her wand and the gag in his mouth tightens. Sirius chokes, the corners of his mouth splitting open. Copper floods his tongue. His eyes sting with tears as leather digs sharply into the wound. Bellatrix makes an apologetic noise.

“Oopsie.” She says. “I forget myself sometimes.”

“Bella.” Walburga admonishes, reaching out to smooth Sirius’ hair back. He lurches from her, binds digging deep into his wrists, and she grabs his head in both hands, nails digging into his skin roughly. “Enough. You will not embarrass me in front of our guests. It is time to prove your worth.”

She smacks him hard, straightening back up. Bellatrix makes little kissy noises at him then cackles, fixing the damage done to the table and plates easily. She drags Sirius back to the table with a quick flick and takes a seat beside him, humming happily. Walburga sits on his other side, grasping his hand tightly with a sickening, proud smile.

A presence floods the room, dark and suffocating and a man strides in. His hair is thinning and dusty brown, a likely once handsome face slowly shifting into something monstrous. He’s dressed smartly in a pair of expensive robes, a sickly wand curled in his fingers. His eyes are a strange reddish brown, pupils slit like Whisper’s. A series of people file in behind him, their faces obscured by porcelain masks. The designs vary from person to person. None of them sit except the man who takes a seat at the head of the table in his father’s seat.

It makes Sirius furious. The wallpaper ripples around the room.

“I am glad to see you’ve awakened, Sirius Black.” The man says, his voice calm and chilling. There is a low hissing quality to it as if he speaks too quickly the words will run together. 

Bellatrix flicks her wand and Sirius’ gag rips out of his mouth. He works his jaw slowly, chin lifted high and defiant. Sirius has to force his eyes to remain open. “You sit at the head of my table, in my house, and speak my name with too much familiarity considering I don’t fucking know you.”

His head is knocked to the side with a sharp slap. Sirius manages a laugh, licking a trickle of blood that drips from his nose. He spits directly onto the table, earning a slow inhale from his mother and a wordless shriek from his cousin. 

“You dare!” Bellatrix screams, rearing her hand back.

The man raises his hand, subtle humor flickering across his face. Bellatrix immediately sits, her expression demure and reverent.

“How cute. Gotta new boyfriend, Bella? Thought your sorry ass was getting married to Lestrange.” Sirius slurs, sneering. The followers around the table shift uncomfortably.

“Enough.” The man intones. His eyes are piercing, assessing. “I am Lord Voldemort. I have heard much about you, Sirius Black. Throughout your current years at Hogwarts, your summer, even your imminent arrival.”

“I’m flattered.” Sirius responds dryly, heart skipping a beat. Voldemort’s words slide unsettlingly over him. Someone has been watching him closely. He can’t imagine who, who would throw themselves in with, what appears to be, a mad man. If Sirius had the energy, he’d laugh. Who fucking stalks children? Not that he was a child. He’s turning 17 and all that shit. A full grown boy, Sirius thinks dazedly. Hell. Now was not the time.

“As you should be. I do not waste time needlessly, especially to meet with children. However, I am a man of curiosities.” Voldemort says, leaning in his chair with a strange grace. His magic flexes around him, oppressive and heavy. “These curiosities involve power. Power is a tool. A pathway to creation. Your family values align with my own. Your cousin and mother believe you to be of great use to our cause.”

Sirius tilts his head, nails biting into his palms. “And what cause is that?”

“Our world is plagued by weakness. A sickness, if you will. Every year our world becomes overrun with mudbloods diluting our purity, our strength. To grow, weeds must be pruned, roots must be ripped and replotted for a more palatable outcome.”

Sirius’ mind spins wildly. He remains silent, gaze steady as he waits for Voldemort to continue. His mother’s hand is a shackle around his hand. Sirius feels a probe at his mind and he sharply slams down, nostrils flaring. There’s another probe, harder this time, and Sirius fights against it. He’s panting by the time it retreats. Voldemort’s expression hardens, his eyes burning with fervor and malevolence. His magic spreads across the room causing his followers to shift amongst themselves.

Sirius refuses to cower, jaw set, eyes blazing with fury. “You’d do well not to touch my mind again.”

“It is telling that you even noticed. I’d say it’s true what they say about Blacks yet Regulus isn’t quite as… keen. Then again he is young and I’m not trying with you. I already know what I seek.” Voldemort smiles, dark and foreboding. “Fear is also a useful tool. You are a child, Sirius Black, but I am already fascinated by what you wield. You will prostate at my feet. Whether through your own willingness or through persuasion. I am told that I am quite persuasive.”

Regulus?

Regulus, his mind screams suddenly. Sirius feels nearly dizzy with the reminder. His brother was in this fucking house, likely has been for sometime. Bristling rage rises up in him sharply.

Regulus was here. 

Sirius doesn’t deign Voldemort with a response, slowly categorizing the room. There are about 5 people, not including his mother, Bellatrix and Voldemort, possibly more. Regulus is not in the room with them. Is… is he dead? Sirius couldn’t even imagine his mother’s filthy anger once she got her hands on his brother again. Regulus' actions this past summer would feel like treason to her. Sirius pants softly, fear coiling in his gut. Shit, shit, shit. His arms are bound but not his magic based on the fluttery swell inside him. He considers his options. His mind struggles mightily to stay present, a thick layer of fog brushing over him. Oooh yes, Sirius will be decking his mother after this. Parental respect be damned. 

Sirius doesn’t know if he can pull at the family magic as he had before, if that’s even what had happened. His grandfather still had no idea what occurred but Sirius knows if he had called it, everyone would’ve felt it. He frowns suddenly. Would they? Sirius wants to test it but this doesn’t seem to be a good time. He, also, isn’t trying to be on the cusp of death again. Healer Benoit is going to be pissed. Sirius will be pissed if he ends up with another magic block. But if he did, he could find Regulus. 

If he can get to the wards, he can lock these people in at least. His mother is still magically crippled and Bellatrix can’t override him. His mind spins and spins and Sirius shakes himself, unsure what exactly he was thinking. Wards, he thinks roughly. A sharp smack brings him back into the conversation.

“Pay attention.” Bellatrix sneers, her eyes glinting madly.

“Maybe next time don’t drug me, you frumpy bitch.” Sirius snaps, more of a harsh slur but Bellatrix’s anger rises regardless.

“Perhaps I haven’t captured his interest yet. Teenage boys often don’t have the mental capabilities to think beyond their means.” Voldemort says, slow and sure. His followers laugh and Sirius bristles. “Regulus and I had an enlightening conversation. He shows promise. A stern and guiding hand will mold him into a great wizard.”

Sirius’ head snaps to him, teeth bared. “You can fuck right off with that.”

Voldemort laughs, low and hissing. “Oh, foolish boy. I will have you both. If it takes ensnaring Regulus first, I will do so. You see, Sirius Black, I am a man of promise. I have promised my followers a world where they can breathe their magic freely. I have promised myself a world rid of filth. I will achieve both.”

“He wouldn’t come to you.” Sirius says.

“Ah, but he’s already here.” Voldemort smiles. “I already have Evan Rosier who, I have on good authority, is his companion. After all, how else would we know you’d be in Diagon Alley today? I do have better things to do than track the whereabouts of a wayward heir and his spare.”

Sirius’ chest tightens, his breath catching and Voldemort’s expression shifts into cruel pleasure.

“Always in his older brother’s shadow. A simple waste of magic. His desire to build himself into a separate entity. The desire to be powerful in his own right. Oh, yes, I have heard much about Regulus Black.” Voldemort states, lazily twirling his wand. “I have ears everywhere. I know he grows close to the Peverell heir but that does not impede my plans. He is a means to an end much like your… hm, bed warmer?” 

“Fuck off.” Sirius spits, nostrils flaring. The longer he fights consciousness, the sharper everything becomes. He feels a bit like Padfoot, hackles raised and cornered and wild. Sirius doesn’t think Regulus would agree to such madness but what does he know? No, no, Regulus wouldn’t do that. They were better. They were going to build this house into something great together.

They were fucking better.

“Hadrian Peverell. Curious rumors surround him and his father.” Voldemort hisses, almost disdainfully. “Yes, I am interested to know the boy whose father has taken my rightful title from me. Such disgrace will not go unpunished, however. I will not have a halfblood, real or not, slandering the Slytherin line any further.”

Sirius barks out a laugh, startling himself, startling everyone. “You shouldn’t show a nerve like that.”

Bellatrix and Walburga stiffen beside him, his cousin’s expression twisting in fury as his mother’s face pales. She clutches his hand desperately, turning wide eyes on him.

“Hush, Sirius.” Walburga hisses sharply. There is fear in her face and Sirius wants to laugh at her, wants to laugh at them all and their ridiculous ideals. Magic chooses muggles like it chooses wizards. Magic can’t be contained, it can’t be stopped and it’s all so incredibly funny. Magic accepted Hadrian as the Slytherin heir, magic breathes life into a normal world. Voldemort wants to rid magic from those gifted it while he can’t even wield his own bitterness at being outpaced, outmatched. A man who thinks so little of their culture to sit at the head of this table, in this house as if he has every right.

A man who has taken Regulus with their mother’s help and the aid of some has-been pureblood child.

God, Sirius was going to beat the shit out of Evan Rosier.

Sirius shakes his head, ignoring the dangerous look Voldemort is sending him, and tugs sharply on his magic. It calls back, too raw and still too much and rampant but desperation wells up so hot that Sirius can’t find it in himself to care. He needs to get the fuck out of here before this idiot actually kills him. God, I’m so damn tired, Sirius thinks dazedly. His magic coos sweetly, building and building and it howls with delight at its impending freedom. There are handprints in the walls, crackling plaster and wood like someone is crawling around inside them. Voldemort does not outwardly react but his followers do, weak and wilting. As if Sirius would ever bow to someone who houses fucking cowards.

“As I said before,” Sirius says, grinning widely. “This is my house. I don’t know what these two have told you but you should never threaten a Black in his own home.”

The air turns sickly and sour, spreading like a heavy coat of thickening fumes. Voldemort’s pupils dilate, sickening curiosity and outrage crawling across his face. One of his followers staggers forward before collapsing into the table, a ragged cough spilling from his lips. Wheezing noises fill the room and Voldemort is on his feet, lips twisted into an ugly snarl as he points his wand at Sirius, magic billowing around him like a dark cloud. 

“Enough.” Voldemort sneers. 

“Oh, Voldie. Where’s your sense of comedy?” Sirius says pleasantly even though he’s terrified and shaking and his control is slipping from between his fingers. Give me this, Sirius thinks and his magic answers with a roar, with such impending rage that Sirius isn’t quite too surprised when he sets the room and himself on fire. Walburga rears back with a piercing scream, her hand blistering to the bone as her skin drips off. Bellatrix leaps back, wand in hand as she stumbles from her seat.

The binds melt away easily, smoke billowing along the ceiling, and Voldemort’s entire face twists with indignation. He hurls a spell, sicky dark and foreboding but Sirius is already on the floor, his skin pulled taut and shivering and he shifts into Padfoot in the ensuing chaos. He darts out the room away from the scream of fury that follows, hurried footsteps scrambling around him as the flames grow higher and higher. Red and blue crack around him like fireworks in the night sky.

Sirius barrels into the parlor room, his paws leaving scorch marks in their wake, his fur set ablaze but he can’t feel anything. A future Sirius problem, Sirius thinks absently. The thick smell of blood interrupts his train of thought sharply. Regulus. Regulus. Regulus. Sirius barrels down the hallway, slamming hard into a cloaked figure that moves in front of him. The person flails, landing hard on their ass, wand whipping wildly and Sirius clamps his teeth around their arm and locks his jaw. A sickening noise fills the air followed by an agonized scream. The smell of burnt flesh begins to sizzle and pop in his mouth and Sirius rips himself off, shaking himself out furiously. 

He does not look back at the smoking body, following the coppery scent of blood until he reaches one of the sitting rooms. Sirius can hear yelling, wild, anguished demands but they feel so far away compared to the sight in front of him. Regulus stands in the center, panting harshly, eyes wide with what may be regret or despair, face is covered in blood, a silver knife clutched tight in his hands that drips and drips and drips. His left arm is mangled and fleshy and bleeding heavily.

Evan Rosier lays under him, quiet gasping, wet breaths leaving his lips before they fall silent. He goes still, the hand on his neck slacking completely. Regulus looks up, chest heaving, tears stinging his eyes and startles violently when he notices Sirius before him. He lifts the knife, trembling, and grits his teeth. Regulus grips the knife tightly, ready even as his eyes water and burn with a ferocity Sirius has never seen on his face.

Sirius moves to speak but barks instead. Oh, I’m still Padfoot and I’m.. still on fire, he thinks dumbly. Sirius shakes himself, hearing the slow sizzle of his fur and shifts back and Regulus collapses in desperate relief, looking so young and so small and slams to his knees with a haggard breath. He doesn’t even comment on how Sirius was a dog or why he was on fire, just bursts into tears and it feels like they’re 6 and 4 again and Maman just slapped him for the first time. Sirius hurries to him and gathers Regulus tight into his arms, glancing down at Rosier’s still body, his empty, empty eyes. Regulus grasps his shirt, a heartbreaking sob escaping his lips. 

“I’ve got you.” Sirius murmurs softly. “But we have to move. I have to get to the wards. Can you stand?”

“There are no wards.” Regulus hiccups. “It’s you. It’s you.”

Jesus, murder has clearly cracked his brother’s psyche. Or maybe it’s blood loss. Sirius looks around wildly, the room tilting and he shakes his head, rubbing his eyes harshly. He was going to deck his mother, holy shit. Sirius tries to get Regulus to stand but his brother holds him tight, eyes wide and desperate as he shakes Sirius by the shoulders.

“It’s looking for you. How can you not feel it?” Regulus says, panicked.

“Reg, what are you talking about?” Sirius urges desperately. 

Regulus snatches Rosier’s wand from the ground, managing to bend it to his will and he soundly barricades the sitting room entrance. He grasps Sirius’ wrist tightly and drags him to a wall. Regulus shoves him against it, breathing hard and fast and Sirius doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand. Then the wall behind him trembles, those whispers from before coming back sharp and clear and something inside the house wails in response. Sirius scrambles away, spooked, eyes widening. A singular hand print slams into where he just was, then another and another. Long, thin lines splitting the wallpaper open like nails and debris sprinkles from the ceiling, the chandelier overhead trembling as something slams and slams from inside the wall.

“There are no wards. You replaced them.” Regulus insists, grabbing Sirius’ arms.

“What?” Sirius whispers. This makes no sense. That makes no sense. A thousand thoughts flood Sirius’ mind and he can’t figure out an answer. Wouldn’t his grandfather have noticed? Maman? Hell, mad man Voldie? Sirius can feel the sharp pull on his core, a call, and hisses softly in pain, eyes going wide. The wall rips apart, surging forward with a large hand made of plaster and wallpaper and it snags him deftly. It feels like a film coating his skin and oh, it’s so, so familiar, like a long lost friend. The house sighs heavily in relief.

“Let it in.” Regulus demands heatedly.

They don’t have time for this shit, Sirius wants to say but the hand grips him tighter, imprints of faces and handprints embedding into the surrounding area with loud cracks.

Oh. 

Oh.

He does know that face.

Me, Sirius thinks distractedly. It is me. Sirius shakes his head, trying to understand but none of it makes sense. Wards are just charms, runes. Where are the fucking wards? The something shoves back, eager and greedy with understanding. They’ve been searching, they urge him, desperate and wailing, pressing back so hard he nearly collapses. Sirius inhales with a shudder, hands pressed to the wall, feels that familiar, wild magic surge against him. A thought enters his mind. Hadrian’s words, specifically and it clicks. I could feel you everywhere. It was so fractured but there was so much lingering.

What is a ward but a manifestation of magic. But only the lord of house could override wards. Holy shit, Sirius thinks suddenly.

Sirius thinks of Kreacher in the Potter Manor, that thrum of magic that occurred between them, how he was able to demand him silent despite the lock on his own core. I’ve overridden Pépé completely, Sirius thinks drowsily. His grandfather must’ve known. A strange, sickening dawning floods him. His grandfather surely knew. How he subtly asks for Sirius’ opinions, his requests, their time together of Pépé teaching him about their house, their politics but conceding easily, too easily to Sirius’ own requests. But why? Why wouldn’t he say anything? How is this possible? He isn’t even of age to run their house yet. Why, why, why, Sirius thinks desperately. Was this a ploy? No, Pépé wouldn’t do that. He had been nothing but supportive and direct and- 

He didn’t want a target on my back. No one else knows. No one else knows, Sirius realizes and it makes him dizzy. 

“Sirius.” Regulus urges, placing a hand on his arm. 

Sirius lets go, accepts and accepts even if he is numb with painful realization and it washes over him like a vibrant hush and spills through his entire being. He can hear Padfoot barking in the back of his mind, his own laughter and that constant pulse that felt too out of control, too much, finally settles deep inside him. 

His head clears. Damn. No wonder his shit has been so cracked.

He feels when his magic leaves the house completely, the remnants of Walburga’s bound magic swirling and stretching towards him like a fluttery, plum shimmer. Sirius touches it, gingerly, and it brushes against his palm. He wonders distractedly where magic goes once someone dies, once they’re forgotten and their bones have gone back to the weeds. Sirius hates his mother, desperately. Her love only ever hurts but this magic feels so warm in his hands, like a heartbeat, like a breath. 

“Is that…?” Regulus trails off, staring at the coil in Sirius’ hands.

“I’ve hated you.” Sirius whispers, remembering every vile glimmer in his mother’s eyes, her words, that nasty smile she would wear. It could be useful, however. If his core has already expanded once, it could again. He thinks of Cepheus, his grief, his own father. Sirius… could end up like him but it was a risk that needed to be taken and their situations weren’t completely comparable. Sirius needed to protect his family, his brother. Cepheus needed to protect himself. They’re running out of time, he’s wasted so much lingering here. God, his father was going to be pissed.

He frowns, not entirely sure what to do, and shoves the flutter into his mouth. It tastes vile and wrong and he chokes, feeling his own magic surge up and snatch it. He gags roughly. There’s hardly a struggle, Walburga cows easily, trembling and writhing and it’s… absorbed. Sirius inhales, his lungs expanding raggedly, and slumps with a strange calm. He gingerly tugs at his magic and it pushes back excitedly, whistling and light and fuck, it feels incredible. The foundation of the house rattles violently. Sirius snaps his fingers and a plume of thick, bluish fire appears. He has a distinct feeling his boyfriend will be pissed with him. God, everyone is always pissed with me, Sirius thinks dazedly. Is it me? Am I the problem? Hell, he’s talking to himself. Sirius may still be drugged.

Regulus looks ill. “I can’t believe you just ate that.”

“I’m going to deck Maman in the face. I feel so incredibly high right now.” Sirius tells him, smiling widely. He grabs Regulus’ injured arm and floods it with magic. It slowly begins to mend itself together. “Wow. You little genius. I know the best Slytherins. Hell, you’re all so smart.”

“Jesus, you are high.” Regulus snips, roughly wiping his face. He flexes his arm, sending Sirius a thankful if not pissy look. “Your eyes are red. Did she give you anything?”

“The… the wall?” Sirius asks, confused. “I mean, yeah. You watched me eat it.”

Regulus sends him a withering look. “Heaven’s help me. No, you idiot. Maman.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. Yeah, she did.” Sirius nods slowly. “I could apparate you out?”

“And splinch me? Splinch yourself? Absolutely not.” Regulus hisses. “Can you even apparate?”

“It’s not that hard.” Sirius quips, a bit offended. “Oh, I can call-”

The debris packed in front of the sitting room explodes. Voldemort striding inside with a distasteful sneer on his lips. He hardly acknowledges the dead body of Evan Rosier, eyes narrowed into slits when Sirius staggers to his feet, placing himself between him and Regulus. Voldemort is alone but Sirius can see the dark robes of his followers lingering in the hallway. What a load of actual bullshit, he thinks. Regulus grasps Sirius’ hand tightly. 

Voldemort sneers, “This your decision? It is no matter. I will have you both.”

“Bit too old for me, cradle robber.” Sirius quips. 

“You will kneel.” Voldemort snarls, his eyes wild and Sirius laughs at him. “Or you will perish.”

“A Black kneels to no one.” Sirius sneers. “If anything, our blue blood should have you kneeling to us.”

“Such insolence.” Voldemort stabs his wand at Sirius, all sickly green and vile and Sirius shoves Regulus away from him, barely has a chance to move himself before his mother suddenly dives in front of him. He doesn’t even know where she came from, and he grasps her hand weakly, heart seizing in his chest. It hits her square in the back just as their eyes meet. A flurry of emotions crosses her face in that moment, too quick to catch, before it draws slack and empty and she slips from his grasp with a garish thud, her fingers limply dragging across his as she goes. 

Regulus makes a broken, whimpering noise.

Sirius blinks, his hands shaking in front of him. He gasps softly, so softly, slowly moving his gaze to his mother’s lifeless form. Sirius doesn’t know whether to laugh, to cry, to hold her, to kick the shit out of her corpse until he’s sobbing. He gasps again, blinded by an onslaught of helpless rage.

Walburga is his mother and she hates him and she took the killing curse for him and she broke, broke, broke him. Sirius inhales desperate and agonized, air crackling around him. She’s his mother and she hates him and she’s dead. She’s his mother and she hates him and she’s dead, she’s dead, she’sdeadshe’sdeadshe’sdeadshe’sdeadshe’sdeadshe’sdeadshe’sdead.

His thoughts fracture splendidly.

Sirius is elated, he’s stricken, he’s everything and anything and he’s screaming. He’s screaming and the ground shakes beneath them, the walls rattle. His magic burns and sizzles, spreading along the floor, along the walls in an onslaught of electricity and blue fire. In the back of his mind, there is a burst, so incredibly old, older than this house, older than everything and it rises with him.There are voices everywhere, in his mind, his soul, and he recognizes all of them and none of them at all. Voldemort stares, manic, his own magic trembling with the impending prospect of a fight. 

“Perfection.” Voldemort hisses, turning his wand. “You will be mine.”

Chapter Text

James idly flips through his transfiguration notes, struggling to compare them with Hadrian’s neat, thorough ones. He feels, frankly, like his brain is about to melt out of his ears. James considers himself adept at transfiguration, it's his favorite subject after all, but in comparison, Hadrian has sufficiently surpassed him in every way despite them only being a year apart.

The library is dead. James had invited Remus but Moony seemed more interested in sleeping for once than anything else. Then again the moon was two days away. Peter was off gallivanting with some girl. James drops his head on the table, wishing Sirius were here or Lily. At least then he’d have something to look at that wasn’t pages and pages of words trying to call him an idiot.

James sighs heavily, stretching out. He notices Hadrian heading towards him, stone faced and furious, with a falcon perched on his shoulder. There’s fresh blood splattered on its chest and talons, smearing dark red onto the collar of Hadrian’s shirt. James hops to his feet, eyes wide, and his gut twists uncomfortably. He quickly shoves the notes into his bag, mind moving a mile a minute. It’s a bit past noon, which means Sirius and baby Black should be returning with Minnie soon but why else would Hadrian have a falcon? A falcon with blood on it?

Frankly, James feels moved that Hadrian even thought of him in this moment because clearly his cousin is about to set everything and everyone on fire and James finds that he’s close behind.

“Nyx.” Hadrian calls sharply. Goosebumps ripple across James’ skin as a sharp pop reverberates through stilling air. A house elf appears, long ears pierced and decorated in fanciful, rich robes. Its eyes are incredibly empty. “Black Manor, please.”

James grabs Nyx’s hand as Hadrian does and they’re gone.

They land sharply in the entrance hall of Black Manor, James’ skin shuddering as if various hands have touched him. His mind neatly rights itself and he gasps raggedly, feeling like he’s forgotten something. Nyx sends him an apologetic look, which is appreciated. There’s a pop and a house elf appears, Ophelia if his memory serves correctly. Her eyes are wide but she bows politely. “Lord Black is not accepting visitors today.”

“Pardon the state of our arrival. Is he present? If not, Orion will do. It’s urgent.”

There’s no sign of any Black or Sirius so James doesn’t understand why they’re here. He thinks back to when Sirius left, his nervous laughter at the prospect of finally getting an owl. James feels sick, realizing Hadrian likely doesn’t know where Sirius could be if they were here. He doesn’t remember if Sirius was wearing the bracelet gifted to him this past summer. Fuck, what happened? Was McGonagall ok? Was Regulus?

“May Ophelia ask why Heir Peverell asks for her lord?” Ophelia asks quietly, her gaze assessing them both. She eyes the falcon on Hadrian’s shoulder, the blood, and stiffens, her nostrils flaring. “Where is the young master?”

“I’m hoping Lord Black may know. This is Sirius’ falcon.” Hadrian says curtly. “There was an incident in Diagon Alley. Sirius has not returned. Neither has Regulus. Professor McGonagall has been admitted to St. Mungos. Bellatrix Black was spotted by aurors.”

James straightens, pulse raging inside him. His hands shake at his sides and he can taste his own fear trapped behind his teeth. James is over this Black Family drama. He has half a mind to lock Sirius in a trunk and never let him out until they graduate and run away to Iceland. Lily would understand. She’s always wanted a dog. Sirius would make a fantastic babysitter with his rapidly shifting attention span. Hell, they’ll bring his cousin too and then they can have two babysitters that become dogs. 

Hadrian is doing a fine job of seeming put together but the tells are in the pull of his mouth, the near tight lock on his expression. His magic is simmering over him like a slithering chasm. James swallows hard and wipes a hand under his glasses. He can’t panic, smothering his emotions. Sirius needs him together so they can get him out of whatever shit his cousin has pulled him into. James did not know Bellatrix Black personally, has never had the displeasure of meeting her but he has stories and seen pictures of her face from the Prophet for her recent betrothal and that was enough.

Ophelia pops away with a frenzied look but it doesn’t take long for Orion Black to appear, his face impassive. He’s dressed incredibly sharp for a Sunday but Blacks, aside from Sirius, never seem to do things in halves. Orion easily looks just like Regulus but Sirius is present in the more defining features, like his eyes but that’s where their similarities stop. James could never imagine Sirius’ eyes being so cold, distant, despite being identical in every way.

“Heir Potter.” Orion drawls, gaze flicking to Nyx then to Hadrian. He inclines his head in greeting. “Heir Peverell-Slytherin. It has been some time since our last meeting. What brings you to my father’s estate?”

Hadrian does not apologize. “Your sons are missing. There has been an incident in Diagon Alley. Bellatrix was spotted. She has taken Sirius with her. Presumably, Regulus was taken prior as there was no mention of him at the time. However, he has not returned to Hogwarts. I need to know where she might’ve gone.”

The change is instant, Orion’s expression cracks and bleeds with intense fury. He lifts his chin, shoulders lined tight with violence and his mouth thins deeply and oh, James thought Sirius got his temper from his grandfather but clearly it really was from his parents. Whisper chooses this moment to slowly emerge from Hadrian’s shirt, her eyes slit, and she hisses slowly. Hadrian hisses back, waving a dismissive hand, and she coils partially around his neck. Whisper assesses Orion carefully, then James, and lastly the falcon, who makes a strange noise at her. She dips her head slowly to it and the falcon flicks its wings.

Orion doesn’t comment on the display, his face still thunderous. “How long?”

“They are due back soon. Falcons are notoriously fast. The blood on his talons was fresh when he found me.” Hadrian explains, meeting Orion’s stare evenly. “I assume it just occurred. He likely found me first as I would be closer than Black Manor. Sirius possibly had time to give an order if things went awry, which, apparently, they had.”

Orion nods curtly. “I am gratified my son did not purchase a dumb animal.”

Hadrian makes a soft noise. “I agree.”

Lord Black sweeps into the hall then, much like a thundercloud of radiant dark magic and lightning. It reminds James of Sirius’ own magic but less fraught and temperamental. His cane taps heavily against the marvel floors as he storms towards them. Suddenly, Lord Black staggers to a stop, hand clutched over his heart and he nearly collapses. Orion moves to assist his father and is brought to his knees swiftly, eyes widening with despair. He bends forward, a hand clasped over his mouth and gags violently.

Hadrian steps forward, his magic lashing out like a dark spring. “What is it?”

“Sirius.” Orion grits, teeth chattering noisily. 

“I… I-I have sent Ophelia to Walburga.” Lord Black bites out, frowning heavily. He exhales harshly. “Bellatrix has always been… close with her aunt. Additionally, my other elves, Lisenia and Hils, have gone to Narcissa and Cygnus. I doubt she would take Sirius to any of those places. However-”

Ophelia interrupts him with a sharp pop. She’s drenched with remnants of magic and quivering violently. Regulus is in her arms, gasping and shaking as he drools all over the floor. There’s blood everywhere. James can smell Sirius in the air, that unnatural split of ozone and burning air, and something else, someone else. The smell makes him choke, suffocating and wrong and sizzling. James shivers, anger burning hot and sour in his gut. Hadrian is stiff beside him, eyes widening a fraction before his expression turns murderous. 

“Young master at Grimmauld!” Ophelia shouts, tears running down her face. Alarm and pain twist her expression into something sick and broken. Her palms and arms are burned severely. “There is a man! A man Ophelia does not know! He tried to hurt Ophelia but young master ordered Ophelia to take young Regulus back!”

“I will inform sire.” Nyx says and he’s gone like smoke.

James shifts, uneasy and shaken. He stares at the little elf, her badly burned body and singed tea towel, with Regulus Black panting heavily in her arms with his face smeared with what appears to be drying blood. His left arm is covered in dried, crusting blood. Lord Black seems equally disturbed, his eyes a bit wide. Orion staggers towards his son, looking frazzled and so much like Sirius that it makes James’ head spin. He takes Regulus gingerly from Ophelia’s arms. He bares his teeth, fury and rage shining in his silver eyes and James thinks for a moment this man has truly cracked.

“Papa.” Regulus grasps his shirt, eyes welling with tears. “You have to get Sirius. Maman… He killed Maman.”

“Sirius?” Orion asks softly but he doesn’t look upset about this.

Regulus shakes his head rapidly. “Voldemort.”

“I will notify Healer Benoit.” Lord Black states, appearing almost lost. “Lisenia. Hills.”

A series of pops occurs then appalled gasps as one of the elves grabs Ophelia and pops away after a curt nod from Lord Black. The remaining one gently lays a hand on Regulus and they too are gone in a pop.

Hadrian turns to the falcon. “Stay here. We’ll bring him back. You’ve done incredibly well.”

The falcon lifts off with a shrill shriek. Whisper curls tight against Hadrian, hidden mostly beneath his shirt and Hadrian nods with finality. “There will be others present aside from him.”

Did Hadrian know this Voldemort dude? James fights back a frown. He supposes it makes sense but he doubts his cousin would truly need assistance handling anyone. James is honored to be a part of this rescue mission regardless because once he realized Sirius had not returned, well, he’d likely do something stupid.

“My father will remain.” Orion states simply, expression now closed off and distant. He gracefully rises to his feet, wand curled tight in one hand.

“Yes.” Hadrian says smoothly. He inclines his head to Lord Black. “Lord Black.”

Hadrian grabs James tightly before he can utter a goodbye and spins them sharp and concise. It’s nearly as disorienting and terrifying as the first time but James has always been a quick study. He steadies himself immediately and nearly quakes with the pressure. James has never been inside Grimmauld before, has plotted stealing Sirius away from it numerous times, but he’s never ventured further than the front yard. He does not need to know its grandeur to understand the dying ruins they stand in.

Walls have collapsed inwardly, floor tarnished and broken and trembling. Smoke billows through the air. Orion is running slightly ahead and they follow hurriedly. A masked man barrels into James’s side,  slamming him into the floor, wand poised and ready, but James Potter is a seeker and has experienced a brawl or ten, courtesy of his own vigor and his best friend’s snippy, dramatic attitude. It was always a delightful experience to see some stuffy pureblood’s shock when they’d get decked in the face instead of a hex. James smashes his fist into the man’s throat, earning a choked, pained gurgle. Thick ropes snag him sharply, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.

James looks up, shocked, to see Hadrian just down the hall, blood splattered on his face. There’s a person at his feet, cradling a stubbed, bloodied wrist and another unresponsive just a short distance away. James doesn’t judge, stumbling to his feet, idly watching Hadrian flick his wrist. The man falls limp to the floor, chest rising and falling. James points his wand at Hadrian’s face, scourgifying the blood and Hadrian pulls a face. James looks around, frowning. He can’t pinpoint Sirius in any direction, there’s just too much magic everywhere. 

“I hadn’t noticed.” Hadrian mutters, barely turning when he sends another person through a wall that springs up behind James. 

“Jesus, they’re like fucking roaches.” James hisses, startling when Orion appears in front of them, his jaw bruised and nostrils flared. His shirt is torn, revealing several deep lacerations. There’s a roar of white noise, flecks of dust suspended like slow moving sand and they catch the wisp of Sirius’ magic as one. James doesn’t spare a glance to the people bound, hurrying down the hall with Hadrian a bit ahead, Orion at his side. James truly hates how damn large this house is despite seeming so small. If he sees another set of stairs anytime soon, he may scream.

Regulus had explained what he saw that night he and Sirius escaped Grimmauld, that awful feeling that came with it, the visual, but this felt different. It felt unimaginable and James knows Sirius was powerful beneath that caustic, playful demeanor but he hadn’t expected this. There is, in fact, a man with a strange face and an even stranger wand. This must be Voldemort. His eyes are a murky, reddish brown that glows with power and awe and vibrant rage. His wand is out, raw angry magic colliding against a flurry of blue, hot lightning. It’s beautiful, it’s insane and glorious and Voldemort, Voldemort is losing. His teeth are bared, an obsessive mania in his face. The air is thick and heavy and it sets every hair on the back of James’ neck standing. It smells like death, like freshly ground earth and petrichol and so distinctly Sirius that it’s almost suffocating. 

Across from Voldemort, is Sirius but not Sirius at all, but James Potter would know Sirius Black anywhere. A blazing aura surrounds him, causing the air around him to shimmer and distort, his skin covered in dark, volcanic haze that cracks and pulses with fiery light. His head is an eruption of a dark mass of sandy, vibrating magic. It resembles Padfoot but the snouts are too long, too wrong with how they snap and snarl and howl and there are so many of them, like a hydra, like some fucked up cerberus, magic spilling out of one of their unhinged jaws.

“Incredible.” Orion whispers softly then his attention is snagged. Fucking roaches, James thinks angrily watching as more of cloaked, masked people filter inside quickly. However, he knew Blacks were formidable duelers, fighters, but he wasn’t expecting Orion to be quite so skilled, all deafening, booming thunder that causes the entire house to tremble and James nearly collapses to his knees. A fragment of debris chips his glasses but he barely notices, wand drawn as he locks with some masked person hell bent on actually killing him. 

James can feel his cousin’s magic, that brittle, vibrant surge of dark foreboding and… he’s scared. James Potter is afraid. He’s never seen the killing curse, it’s grotesque, stunning color and staring at the other end of his wand where his magic meets this other person’s, James vaguely wonders if he’ll make it out of here. Sweat beads along his forehead, a ragged pant trapped in his throat as he presses back harder, feeding his magic as he watches their spell collide together and tangle and spark and he’s scared, he’s so, so scared. Then the person is snatched up with an ugly crunch, sparks of magic spilling from the terrible jowls of one of those Not-Padfoot heads and their eyes meet.

James might be experiencing shock, meeting that desolate gaze head on. It’s like looking directly into despair. He’s so baffled and thrown and terrified. Then the head yips at him, a happy, delighted sound even as it crushes and dissolves the person in its mouth to dust. It’s so damn strange and so Sirius and endearing that James nearly swoons like a child screaming “puppy”.

James reaches towards it, only to be yanked back suddenly by Hadrian as a crash of violent green explodes where he was just standing. Bellatrix Black grins widely, eyes manic and glittering and her mad gaze locks on Hadrian, who is already looking at her, shaking hard with rage, magic unfurling with such ferocity it makes James flinch. The shadows around the room begin to writhe and move strangely.

“Oh? Siri’s filthy, wittle broodmare has joined us.” Bellatrix coos, twirling her wand. 

Hadrian grins, vicious and sharp and they clash in the middle like two wild, rabid animals snarling over a dying meal. One of the masked people tries to interfere and one of those heads surges out, snatching them up with a sickening crunch and swallows. James has many questions but there is no time to ask and frankly he doesn’t fully care. Go off, Pads, he thinks idly, bodily throwing himself at someone who lunges for Orion while he’s already caught in a duel with someone else. His mother would be proud of his improvements so would Minnie if she could see how there’s now an incredibly, ugly looking rabbit that was once a person. Whisper snatches it up deftly, startling James as he forgot she tagged along. 

The air turns chilled suddenly, sparking against Sirius’ magic with a low pop while turning rampant and hostile against Voldemort, who's been backed into a corner. He staggers, narrowly missing a pulse of blistering lightning. The very atmosphere comes alive with energy, vibrating in exuberant joy with an unseen presence. It feels so much like his cousin’s magic but it’s more dark and heavy.  

Shadows throb and dance along the damaged walls, the flames around them billowing merrily with increased delight, casting more sweltering darkness. A person emerges fluidly from them in an old, worn dark hoodie and sweatpants, their hands tucked into their pockets and easily slips between the two, visibly unbothered. A series of large, shadowed hands surge out of the ground, curling deftly around Voldemort like a disfigured, throbbing butterfly, effectively breaking contact. The man waves his hand genially and Sirius visibly slouches much like a puppet with its strings cut. 

“I’ll take it from here, Pads.” A deep voice rings out, filling every corner and wall with a booming voice that tastes of distant, ancient magic, older than this house, older than any of them and it shakes James to his core. The man runs his hand along one of those terrible snouts and it ripples. “Sorry I’m late.”

Did… Did this man know Sirius?

“What is the meaning of this?” Voldemort demands. His voice trembles, clearly cowed by this other man’s presence. There is fear in that gaze, an awful knowing. He begins sending spell after spell and the shadowed man grins, bloodthirsty and wild and just… sends them back by hand. James thinks he may have cracked because what the fuck. He wants this day to be over. It has officially become too much.

There is a sharp howl as Sirius’ magic drags viciously back inside him. He sways, managing to steady himself on his thighs before promptly vomiting all over the floor and what appears to be his dead mother’s body. Sirius collapses to his knees hard with a broken sound, grasping his mother’s arm, and James is moving, surging towards him and barrels straight into some masked fucker. He smashes his head into theirs, hearing a sickening crack that sends them both crashing to the ground. James doesn’t think beyond that, beyond needing to get to Sirius. His knuckles are split and bloodied but that doesn’t matter, none of that matters. James stumbles off the prone form beneath him, crawling hurriedly and gathers Sirius tight in his arms. He barely notices anything around him, feeling Sirius’ heavy grief as he quakes against him, hands fisted in his shirt.

“J-Jaime.” Sirius sobs brokenly. “She’s gone. She’s gone. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“I got you, Pads. You’ve never done anything wrong ever.”

Sirius manages a quiet, tremulous laugh before he’s breaking apart again and the sound shatters something inside James. Walburga Black did not deserve this grief, this emotion. Maybe that makes him a bad person or at least not a very good one but James doesn’t care. He can hear the splash of spells, the clashing of various duels, Orion’s swift deafening thunder and his cousin’s brittle, heavy magic intertwining seamlessly with the man who arrived from the shadows. A series of sharp pops sound throughout the air. Cowards, James thinks distantly, watching people disappear, wounded and bloodied and Orion snatches one of them mid twist. There is a loud squelch but no body reappears. 

Bellatrix shrieks loudly, wand arm ripped completely from her torso and she’s smacked bodily into the wall with a nasty crunch. Her hair is singed and smoking. She slumps to the ground, breathing haggard, her eyes distant and pained. Her fingers twitch limply around her wand, slowly turning red with pooling blood from the severed wound. One of the masked people staggers her way but is clipped sharply on the shoulder by Orion then a shadowed hand is dragging them through the floor. 

All that remains is their mask.

Whisper rears towards Bellatrix, hissing sharply and she falls still and silent. The shadow man hisses strangely at her, much like Hadrian does, grinning widely and she responds, slithering along the floor. Whisper snags a person midair as Hadrian sends them flying her way, scales glimmering and shifting around them until they fall limp in her hold.

Oh, James thinks, dragging his gaze back to that man, how he holds himself against that sickly wand with just his bare hands. This is Hadrian’s father. This is Lord Peverell. James has heard stories about him, about the distant cousins of the Potters, the Peverells, specifically from his father during their lessons. They often sounded like old stories, like threats, like warnings of what happens when you go looking for the wrong things for the wrong reasons, how Peverell heirs weren’t born, not really, they were chosen and James could never understand until now. 

This man was certainly not a man at all. 

“Ah, that was the last one. Excellent work, Hades.” Lord Peverell flicks his eyes to his son, watching him send a person flying through the ceiling, his expression bright and joyful. “Orion, you look well. It’s been a while. How is Arcturus doing?”

Orion sends Lord Peverell a withering look but his smile is pleased, eyes a bit wild like how Sirius’ would get after a fight. “He is well. I appreciate your assistance.”

“Oh, absolutely. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

Voldemort snarls, clearly offended. “Such insolence! You-” 

“Don’t be rude, Tom.” Lord Peverell waves him off dismissively and the shadows writhe and spread, snatching the man by the arms and legs as he bellows in rage, eyes wide and frenzied. A heavy darkness pulls from the walls, the corners, the ceilings and drapes over him and presses him deep into the floor like a rug. It bubbles and flattens and he’s gone. 

His wand clatters to the ground, left behind. Hadrian waves a hand and a series of shadowy hands curl around the wand then dissolve, leaving nothing but dust behind. He pants softly, roughly rubbing his face. There’s a long, deep bleeding scar that starts from his collarbone and stretches across his throat until it splits his lower lip in half. His robes are missing.

Desperate wheezes sound from the fallen people in the room, some not moving at all. Whisper lazily makes her rounds, stunning those who move a bit too much for her liking. Lord Peverell taps his foot and magic floods the house. There’s a low rumbling noise as it rights itself, marble floors freshly polished, walls rebuilt and stabilizing.

“Whisper’s gotten better. She killed the last person we worked on. Granted, he was dead already but ghosts get so uppity sometimes.” Lord Peverell comments idly. “I forgot to bring snacks.”

“I see plenty of protein options here, Harry.” Orion responds smoothly, unbothered by the apparent news of Whisper practicing on… dead people. What the fuck, James thinks, awed. He didn’t even know Orion or Lord Black had met Harry before. Then again, Hadrian already seemed familiar with both of them and clearly he was, well, serious about dating Sirius. Orion knew Harry’s name and was allowed to use it and vice versa. Maybe James should schmooze with the Evans, even if Lily’s sister is a cow.

“And give the poor girl indigestion? Orion, no.”

James blinks, gaping. “Holy fuck. Did you kill him, Lord Peverell?”

“Pfft, nah. That’d be against the rules. Boring but even I have limits now apparently. Poor bastard is… somewhere fun . Don’t know how I forgot about him. Guess I’m getting old and well, it has been centuries for me at least.” Harry laughs, turning fully to them. He looks exactly like Hadrian but somehow not at all, sharpened with age and some otherworldly magic where he doesn’t seem quite human but that particular shade of green is the exact same. There’s something distinctly wounded in his gaze when he meets James’ eye but it seems too far away to be a true emotion, like a mere suggestion. James blinks and it’s gone. 

“You should call me Harry. We are family after all.” Harry states, cracking his knuckles, eyes shining with mirth. “Sirius should wake soon. Pretty sure he’s just exhausted. He feels stable.”

James startles, realizing Sirius is slack in his arms, cheeks tear stained and flushed. A tiny sliver of drool trickles out of his mouth and in any other situation, James would think it was the cutest thing. “Is… I don’t understand.”

Orion appears immensely relieved at Harry’s words, tapping his wand to his leg. There’s a sickening pop.

“House magic is rarely understood.” Orion says, moving to kneel beside them. He taps his wand to his chest, muttering softly and the wounds slowly begin to heal. Orion takes Sirius from James, cradling him gently, his voice so, so soft. “Stupid boy. Only you.”

“House… magic.” James repeats slowly. He doesn’t understand.

“Ask Fleamont. He’s knowledgeable.” Harry chirps. He turns to Hadrian, expression smoothing into quiet understanding. “Give yourself a second, yeah?”

“I am.” Hadrian snaps, practically vibrating where he stands. He’s across the room, eyes stormy and sparking with thinly concealed rage. Harry watches him, passive and patient and holds his son’s gaze evenly. Hadrian grits his teeth, exhaling a harsh swell of black smoke from his nose, shoulders dropping. He rubs his face roughly with both hands. His voice breaks. “Fuck. Sorry.”

James feels a bit thrown. 

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Harry waves off the apology easily, moving towards him. “You made it here. He is safe. Let it go, Hades.”

Hadrian’s mouth twists and, strangely, it appears that he might cry. Hell, James didn’t know his cousin could cry. Hadrian looks away from his father’s knowing gaze, swallowing hard. “I understand.”

“I get it. I do. Went through my fair share, yeah?” Harry claps him on the shoulder, pressing their foreheads together. He runs his fingers along Hadrian’s new scar, healing it quietly. “ You are not alone anymore, alright? Whenever you need me, I’m here. I’ll handle Riddle. Fate can suck my dick. She owes me several favors anyway.”

Hadrian responds too low to hear and Harry grasps the side of his face, expression roaring with pride and adoration and he presses a soft kiss to his son’s forehead before dissolving into nothing but mist and heavy smoke and he’s gone, like a wraith. The air, almost instantly, returns to normal and James sucks in a gasping, winded breath.

Orion rises to his feet, Sirius tucked in his arms. “My father and I were correct in our initial assessment. Your father is Lord Death.”

“Yes.” Hadrian admits quietly, staring longingly at Sirius’ slack expression before turning away. His face shutters with a bitter grief before it’s swept away completely behind a firmly placed mask. He flicks his fingers dully, the ugly sound of bones resetting fills the air. Hadrian points his wand at James and something in his chest resets and a pressure in his head dissipates completely. Fuck, James didn’t even notice he broke anything or that he was injured. His breathing certainly feels easier.

“Holy shit. My cousin is baby death. Literally.” James blurts out, feeling thrown, still kneeling on the ground. 

“Father will be more insufferable. Though I am surprised he hasn’t married my son off immediately since I’m aware he has been more than pleased since meeting you and your father this past summer.” Orion says thoughtfully and Hadrian’s cheeks pinken. He sends Orion a look, who gives a strange, cheerful smile back.

“Does Sirius know?” James asks.

“No. I imagine he’ll realize once he meets my father. He isn’t stupid.” Hadrian responds, flicking his wand, and there’s a series of thumps as bound bodies are dragged into the room. It’s about 9 in total, which felt… odd considering James was certain there would be more. Then again, some clearly ran away like the bastards they are and some were shadow snatched or crushed by the goodboy Not-Padfoot. Whisper moves towards Hadrian, coiling around his legs and torso before burrowing into his shirt like a very strange, large scarf.

“What will your father do with… the leader?”

Hadrian tilts his head. “Likely make an example of him or drop him in a ministry holding cell once he’s finished. The aurors will be here shortly. However, I’m unsure what he’ll do with the others that were… taken.”

How ominous, James thinks.

Orion’s lips curl in disgust when someone makes a choking sound. Whisper glares at the noisy person and they stiffen completely. Sirius makes a small noise in his father’s arms, face buried in the crook of his shoulder and drooling. Orion appears charmed. Several sharp pops sound outside and footsteps come thundering towards them. A series of aurors appear, wands ready, their eyes widening at the display of bound, unnaturally stiff, and whimpering bodies. James perks up recognizing Frank Longbottom.

“Frank! Long time no see. How’s training going? Is this your first super cool trainee mission?” James chirps happily. “Cause y’all sure took your fucking time.”

Orion makes a low noise of agreement.

Chapter Text

Sirius did not go to his mother’s funeral, couldn’t bear to bring himself to try, to see her one final time, and remained hidden in his room until the funeral reception after. His heart ached for them both. The wizarding world was shaken upon learning about what happened in Grimmauld place but seemed more upset over the scandal and losing numerous members of their society than the why. 

Sirius really hated politics but he made nice with the families that joined them, eager to grease elbows and share their flimsy condolences and extend their hopeful olive branches like the Notts, Carrows, Bulstrodes and Parkinsons. Reputations were in shambles and the darker houses were scrambling.  

The Blacks were clearly taking names and heads and rumors were running rampant.

His grandfather, father, and Regulus attended the wake, the funeral itself, and shortly after joined Sirius, where they played interference to those who had too many questions and too many pushes. Regulus did not cry but his face was pale and itchy with raw grief. Sirius, himself, had waited until they returned to Black Manor, silenced his room and screamed until his voice went raw and broke. Hadrian was there to catch him when he collapsed into himself and shattered the windows. He wanted to be grateful that she was gone, that she would never lay a hand on him or his brother again but he wasn’t. Walburga was his mother and she hated him but even he knew that she loved him once before it turned her twisted and terrible.

Now he sits in front of Regulus and Barty, whose eyes are a vibrant red with irritation and unshed tears, his hands gripped tightly in his lap. Sirius wishes he could save him from this, his sadness, his anger, but he had a family to look out for, a brother to take care of. Sirius wonders if Barty blames him for Rosier being roped into this shit, if he blames Regulus. He wonders if Regulus blames him for their mother’s demise. Sirius didn’t care about Narcissa’s quiet sobbing nor Alphard’s steady satisfaction nor the way the remaining family members looked at him in greedy reverence. 

How dwindled their house had become, riddled with grief and full of questions and questions that he himself refused to answer. Sirius was tired of talking to people. It felt vaguely like he was on trial at these asinine events despite the fact that the trials were, for the most part, over. Sirius, in that moment, only cared about Regulus, the tremble of his mouth, the sour taste of his magic when the realization settled that their mother was truly gone. The quiet devastation in his brother’s expression had been incredible.

Sirius leans forward in his seat, fingers threading together as he settles on his knees. He meets Regulus’ gaze evenly, watching the slow dip of his throat. Sirius looks to Barty. “I’m only asking this since he was your friend.”

Sirius needed to know if Barty was a threat. Regulus’ assurances only went so far considering Evan Rosier is why they were even in this fucking mess. The Rosiers were outraged over Evan Rosier’s actions but mainly because of the intense backlash that came with public opinion. McGonagall had recovered, thankfully, and despite being such a normally level headed woman wanted Bellatrix’s head, which Sirius would be happy to give her but she seemed pleased in knowing that Bellatrix Black would die a squib in Azkaban and that he and Regulus were both safe. Barty Crouch Jr had shown up to Black Manor, wide eyed and crazed and swept Regulus into a bone crushing hug so that had to have meant something.

“He understands that.” Regulus snaps, magic whipping out furiously. He wears betrayal well, their faces a mirror of one another, stormy and frigid. For all their differences in personality, in what is right and what is wrong, in this they are the same. 

Sirius straightens slowly. He crosses his arms, lifting one eyebrow. “Does he?”

“I do.” Barty intercepts, looking uneasily between them. It’s the strangest expression on his face. “Reg did what he needed to do. I’m not gonna fault him for that. Evan made his choice… I’m. Yeah, I’m upset but I’d rather be upset than Regulus dead.”

Regulus averts his eyes, cheeks pinking. Cute, Sirius thinks absently.

“Good. I like you, Barty. I think you’re a little shit but meh, so am I.” Sirius replies. “Keep that same energy. You’ll find no issues with me.”

Barty swallows. “I can do that.”

Sirius sucks his teeth, giving him a pair of finger guns. “Cool. I’m going to leave. Can’t really think of who else to threaten in this dank ass dorm and I’m sleepy.”

“Are you sure that’s all?” Regulus responds delicately. 

Sirius considers him. “Am I? Why? Y’all finally gonna start dating or some shit? I’m too young to write up betrothals. Ask Pépé for all that is holy. Fuck, I don’t even want to write my own-”

Regulus colors with outrage but Barty grins. “God. Leave.”

“Touchy.” Sirius mutters, rising to his feet. He grabs his robes from the back of his chair and drags them on. Sirius tugs his wand from his hair, wild strands spilling past his collarbones, and taps his wand to the chair, turning it back into a desk. “If you need me, you know where to find me. Both of you.”

“You really would’ve made me disappear, huh?” Bartys asks quietly as he leaves.

“For Reg, something like that. Yes.” Sirius pauses, hand braced on the doorknob. “It’s insulting that you think I wouldn’t.”

“Sounds like we’re in accord.” Barty hums.

“We should be. Seems like we’ll be in laws soon, baby Crouch.”

Barty doesn’t respond, neither does Regulus but he can feel their embarrassment and Sirius leaves, amused, strolling through the Slytherin common room. He earns a few shrewd looks, which he ignores, but does zip a girl’s mouth closed wordlessly when she moves to speak to him with a nasty sneer. The atmosphere shifts instantly and Sirius turns his cool gaze to the students lingering, waiting, patient. No one approaches him. Sirius leaves without a glance back.

If the public was in an uproar over current events and god, the fucking trials , Hogwarts was frothing at the mouth. McGonagall had been beside herself with ugly guilt, which Sirius could appreciate but he just wanted to move past the event entirely. Even Dumbledore wanted to discuss what happened but between papa and his grandfather, the headmaster was shut down harshly. Then there were the students with their rumors, their ideas of what really happened and they would press and press and press until Sirius had finally snapped, nearly taking the Great Hall out with him.

The Marauders ran interference constantly from everyone. Remus and Hadrian ran interference from James, who was a bit too demanding and too pressing in his lingering fear. It’s been exhausting, it is exhausting watching his peers shift away from him, curious, interested, fearful. Anisa had a damn field day with him their last several sessions to the point he needed a calming draught. Sirius knew he needed to talk about everything, how he’s processing, how he’s feeling and he just wants a damn break. 

Sirius is tired of talking to people. 

Tired of talking, talking, talking. Having to defend himself to a bunch of idiots like he chose to get kidnapped by Bellatrix and her crazy, weirdly snake-like, no name upstart. Bellatrix was lost to them despite having survived, rotting in Azkaban with her idiot intended’s brother as Rodolphus was trapped in St Mungos with a case of severe madness or whatever and Sirius had ripped her magic from her and ate it with a vicious glee.

And wasn’t that a conversation Sirius still had to have with his father and grandfather. As well as the one with Narcissa. Sirius wanted to leave that to Pépé but his grandfather insisted that he and Regulus be present as ultimately it would come down to what Sirius decided. He hated having so much power, made him feel strange and winded but he couldn’t say the situation truly bothered him. It just meant he could do what he needed to do to keep people he cared about safe.

Regardless, the House of Black would eat well and Sirius would keep it fed.

It had been a shocking revelation when Regulus mentioned Lucius Malfoy by name during his testimony despite the fact that said man was notably not rounded up with those other idiots.

Papa had not been impressed with Abraxas Malfoy’s subtle implications that Regulus was lying, which nearly ended in a blood feud. Malfoy backtracked noticeably quickly especially when Rabstan Lestrange and Greggory Goyle’s testimonials also mentioned Lucius. However, Papa did seem to have immense satisfaction with the knowledge that Lucuis Malfoy was unable to be tried yet due to a bizarre, severe splinching accident that left him in intensive care due to being mangled nearly beyond recognition. Sirius did not ask why his father was so pleased but James also looked incredibly smug. 

Sirius nearly got slapped with expulsion for using underaged magic in Diagon Alley until Mirin, the Black Solicitor, had succinctly shut that shit down while also calling the Aurors on duty a bunch of lackluster waste of tax dollars and then proceeded to give Minister Bagnold a dressing down that left Papa cackling like some deranged omen.

A shrill whistle reverberates through the halls and Aldrich the Goose sweeps towards him, earning several startled head turns. The falcon perches on his shoulder, wings tittering before they settle. Sirius rubs his chest, grateful there isn’t another massive stack of letters. He strongly considered getting a muggle phone just so his wrist could get a break from all the writing. Sirius had been so happy to see Aldrich when he awoke in Black Manor and Ophelia, who he swept into a bone crushing hug until she squealed in delight. He had nearly lost her when she arrived at Grimmauld. Sirius would not lose another part of Melania. 

Sirius would not lose anyone else.

“Hello, my friend.” Sirius greets quietly, heading towards the Great Hall. “You look incredibly handsome today. Kill some small rodents lately?”

Aldrich coos, lightly nibbling at his ear. 

“Good. You deserve all the snacks.” Sirius hums. “I may have also ordered a very tiny scarf for you. It’s Gryffindor colors, of course, but you are a Gryffindor boy.”

Aldrich chirps in agreement, puffing his chest. 

“Siri!” A voice rings out. Sirius turns to see Marlene rushing up to him, her eyelids glittery with gold and rust. It sets her eyes ablaze. “Come with me.”

“Jesus, you look good as fuck.” Sirius raises his eyebrows. “Can I eat first? I’m fucking starving.”

“I assure you that what I have is way better than what’s being served.” Marlene assures him, patting Aldrich sweetly on the chest and loops an arm in his. 

Sirius perks up, “Holy shit. Do I finally get to try McDonalds?”

“Fuck, how did you guess that? I genuinely hate you.” Marlene laughs, dragging him down the hall. She waves to a few girls that cheerfully greet them while they pass, her low pigtails bouncing with every step. Sirius is curious as to where they’re going and vaguely hopes he can take a nap after eating, which is what he planned to do after lunch for his free period. Eye bags did not suit Sirius Black at all and it didn’t matter that Hadrian would kiss him rotten whenever he’d complain about them. Ok, it did, but the principle stands.

Marlene brings them to the 7th floor, specifically to a familiar blank wall. She sets Sirius to the side, does the usual walking back and forth until a wide door appears. Marlene drags the door open, a swell of voices filtering into the air and beckons him inside. Aldrich ruffles his feathers when Boo comes careening out with a whistle. Sirius laughs, patting his free shoulder and Boo swoops towards him. He gets a hair nibble and a chirp in his ear once Boo settles. Marlene rolls her eyes fondly.

The inside of the room has taken the form of a flat meadow with a bright sun and speckled with fluffy clouds. His friends and boyfriend are settled on a large picnic basket with an assortment of food, deserts, and McDonald’s bags. Sirius gives a heavy sniff, touched, and Marlene laughs, dragging him towards their group. Fuck, he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve any of them. Sirius feels a bit overcome with emotion, like he may just start sobbing at any moment. He’s pushed down between Hadrian and James, Remus leaning over Peter to wave in greeting. Mary is sprawled out on her stomach with Lily leaning against her. Then there’s Dorcas, who ends up with a lap full of Marlene.

“Thank you all for joining us today. ” Marlene says, spreading her hands. She nearly smacks Lily in the face. “Sirius Black will now try McDonalds for the first time. Call the Prophet. The heir to the most ancient and noble-”

“Noble and Most Ancient.” Dorcas corrects.

“Has deigned to eat as a commoner!” Marlene glares at Dorcas, who smiles sweetly. “Will his delicate stomach handle such a feat?”

“My stomach isn’t delicate.” Sirius mutters.

Remus and Hadrian both send him a look. Sirius huffs, chastised.

“I handled it fine.” James says with a frown.

“James, you could eat a tire and you’d be fine.” Lily laughs.

“Prongs has eaten a tire and been ok.” Remus snorts, earning an indignant noise.

James blushes deeply, mouth open in outrage. “Moony, we said we’d keep it a secret!”

“You truly ate a tire?” Mary asks, awed. “Well, Lils, if you give him a shot at least your kids will have a good stomach structure.”

Lily’s face goes as red as her hair and she digs her fingers into Mary’s side in retaliation. The group dissolves into giggles, much at Lily and James’ expense. Sirius is handed the bag of McDonalds. It feels heavy in his hands and he studies the contents with narrowed eyes. He can smell the grease. His nose wrinkles. Peter laughs at his expression.

“Just try it, Pads.” Remus encourages but his eyes are giddy.

“It’s not that bad.” Hadrian assures him, sliding his arm around Sirius’ waist. His fingers dip just under the hem of Sirius’ sweater and he has to fight to keep his expression neutral. It feels like they haven’t seen each other much the last few days because of all this extra bullshit and if Sirius could kick Voldemort in the balls for any of this it would be for the crime of keeping him from kissing the shit out of his boyfriend. Hell, he also hasn’t really seen James either or any of them. 

“Do.. Do I just dump it out?” Sirius asks, opening the bag. There are a series of curious looking objects inside. “Oh, it has sections? I don’t know what’s happening. Are these fries? Is that what you call them?”

Mary wheezes.

“What are you looking at, Sirius?” Dorcas asks patiently.

Sirius pulls out a misshapen container. He frowns into the bag. There’s a tiny bag filled with long, yellowish strips. They smell incredible and like potatoes. “Maybe not. I think these are fries. Potatoes. Smells like potatoes.”