At eight sharp, all the guests arrived at the manor as proper etiquette demanded – you were not to arrive a minute after or a minute later than the indicated time. Every year at the beginning of August, the elite would gather in this beautiful mansion lost in the hills of Devon and far away from any muggle towns. The lawns were manicured and the hedges were trimmed perfectly. There was not to be one blade of grass out of place.

The hauntingly beautiful Black Manor looked ablaze as the setting sun was bathing everything in an reddish light, the long shadows of the trees were flickering on its walls when a breeze blew. The large group of guests started making their way up towards the entrance of the building and completely ignoring the house-elves who were bowing. They did not dare speak in fear of repercussion; they kept their hands behind their back and bent so far down that their noses would brush the dirt.

The House of Black was the oldest, and probably most powerful, pureblood family in the country. This event was created years ago and advertised as being a way to reunite old friends, but the real intentions were nowhere near as innocent. The House of Black was an extremely influential and well connected pureblood family and they very much intended for it to stay that way. They used this event to reaffirm their wealth and political agenda on the wizarding community even if things were not looking up for them. Unfortunately for the Ancient and Most Noblehouse of Black, they were starting to weaken much to the pleasure of other families aiming to gain from their disappearance.

Their reputation had greatly suffered over the last few years because of two particular heirs that would not conduct themselves properly. Andromeda's name was not to ever be spoken ever since she ran away with a mudblood when she graduated from Hogwarts. She had long been blasted off the family tree. Sirius was the second troublesome one. His mother was still hoping to whip some sense into him, but was slowly losing faith and, according to her, needed to be married immediately. He had always been questioning the old ways and this only worsened when he got Sorted into – shudder – Gryffindor.

Walburga had pinned all her hopes on a proper pureblood girl. The girl in question was amongst tonight's guests, and had just entered the lavish hall where the event was taking place. The man she called father was standing by her side. They had been the last to enter, staying back to avoid the first wave of people when arriving on the grounds. Out of the corner of her eye, the girl saw the house elves quickly straighten up from their bows to go fetch the drinks.

Ideally Walburga would not have chosen her to wed her eldest son, but she had little choice. Never would she allow the Blacks to sink so low as to have one of their own marry a half-blood, or even worse, a muggle born. Unfortunately, there were few girls of Sirius' age having been born to purebloods and she could not afford to wait for one of the younger girls to turn of marrying age. Sirius Black, she believed, had to be locked down by a woman as soon as possible otherwise he might dishonour his family even further. Thankfully, Regulus was not following in his brothers footsteps much to his mother's relief.

Sirius Black's fiancée was not particularly special in terms of looks; actually, she tended to fade into the crowds quiet easily. What convinced Walburga to offer the arrangement to her father was the look in the girl's eyes. Everything else about her seemed relatively unremarkable – hair that could not decide if it was brown or auburn, light freckling, hazel eyes, average height, average weight – but her eyes were sharp and there was fire behind them. Regulus would not need of such a wife, all he needed was one that would obey, but Sirius would need someone to get him to behave.

The house she hailed from was a small one from France, supposedly dating back to the twelfth century. Walburga believed that Mélodie de Rohan was her last chance to get her eldest son to comply to the family rules. As a result she payed particular attention to her future daughter-in-law during the evening. She was the perfect pureblood girl. Believing in the old ways, she followed what her elders told her and did everything according to etiquette. But always you could see her eyes looking around and analysing and from that alone you knew she was smart.

This is exactly what she was doing at the moment as she brought the crystal glass up to her lips. Mélanie scanned the room as she pretended to listen to her father's conversation with Abraxas Malfoy and his son, Lucius. His engagement to Narcissa Black had been announced not too long ago, and already the girl who only a year older than her was acting like the perfect little wife. She only spoke when spoken to, and would otherwise keep a small polite smile on her lips as she stood slightly behind her future husband. Lucius seemed to be paying her no mind.

Pureblood weddings were not done in the name of love, everyone here would actually scoff at the very thought. No, weddings here were done for the sake of politics. Seeing who was getting married to who was a great way of knowing which families were allying with which. This seemed to be something the patriarch of the Selwyn clan was all too aware of as already, he was talking to Orion Black regarding a possible union via Regulus. He had his own eight year old daughter had yet to be betrothed.

Music had started to play not too long after the guests had filled into the hall. The beautiful sound of violins played as a background to the indistinct chatter of the guests. Everyone was dressed lavishly. All the women has expensive gowns and beautiful jewellery embedded with previous stones whilst the men wore fine silk suits. It was almost as though people tried to make a contest to see who could have the most expensive outfits, even those that where known where tight on funds. The Aubreys, for example, were seen taking out a large loan not to long ago. Purebloods should not need to borrow money.

Mélanie watched Bellatrix kick a house-elf that had the misfortune to bump into her leg before making her way over. Bellatrix was terrifying. She acted like a pureblood princess in front of a crowd, but when you scratch the surface it was an entirely different story. Unfortunately, the inbreeding that occurred in the Black family to keep their blood pure made her a bit unstable. She was a bit of a sadist and it was becoming more and more apparent over time. Mélanie had known her for less than a year, and now she was a lot more worried about the black haired witch than she had been at the time they met. Of course, she never let that show; Bellatrix would use that knowledge against her.

After excusing ourselves, Bellatrix dragged Narcissa and I away.

"So, when's the wedding," Mélanie smirked after the two sisters caught up. She was on quiet friendly terms with both of them, probably due to the fact there were remarkably few girls are far too many boys around their age at these events. Bringing the crystal glass up to the lips, Mélanie pretended to take a sip. These people were not to be underestimated, and whilst she had to fit in to the crowd and pretend, she was not prepared to lose any of mental capacity. Meandering through the twisted rules that was the pureblood elite is already difficult as it without having to add an inebriated state to it.

Bellatrix snorted in disgusted. From the corner of her eye, Mélanie watched as the soon-to-be-Lestrange brought up her left hand in front of her face, palm out, to look at the large engagement ring sitting on her finger. A large emerald was surrounded by black diamonds and set on a platinum band, easily costing a small fortune. This goblin crafted heirloom had probably been passed down the generations in the Lestrange.

"Ah yes, the wedding. It's sometime next year but I can not remember for the life of me. Cissy's more excited about it than I am."

"It's mid Janaury," Narcissa pipped up, a large smile on her features and eyes sparkling, "It will be wonderful with all the snow."

Unlike her sister, the younger Black was a bit of a romantic. Even if she was not to choose her husband, Narcissa was excited at the very thought of marrying Lucius once she graduated from Hogwarts. She even took it upon herself to practically singlehandedly organise that of her sister's, much to Bellatrix' relief. Narcissa started monologuing about what she planned for her sister's wedding for the third or fourth time, even if the latter was barely listening. Mélanie tuned her out, having heard this all before, and scanned the hall for the Black brothers.

Regulus was in the back, chatting with a couple of his friends - Mulciber and Avery. He was the proper one and this could be seen by the his posture alone. Back straight and a relatively expressionless face, he nodded quietly as the two others seemed to be arguing, only quipping in a thought when he deemed it necessary.

His older brother was nowhere to be found.

Mélanie did not really care about her fiancé's whereabouts. Like Bellatrix, she was not too thrilled by the thought of being forced to wed someone she barely knew, but there was more than that. For her, marrying someone was only a distraction that she did not need and the quiet brunette had the nagging feeling that her marriage to Sirius Black was, thankfully, not going to come to fruition. His muggle loving ideals had seemed to become more pronounced recently and she would not be surprised if Walburga disowned him before the marriage was to take place.

As if hearing her thoughts, a shouted echoed throughout the hall. Every one of the guests turned their attention towards the magnificent white marble staircase that led up to first floor. Two figures had appeared at its top.

Sirius Black was storming down the staircase with his trunk in tow. A welt was starting to form on the side of his face and he already seemed to done a broken nose. The expression on his face was one of pure fury and his storm grey eyes seemed resolute. Behind him, his father was shouting profanities .

Orion Black was a terrifying. The few stray grey hairs in his sleeked black hair and his steadily more prominent wrinkles were the only physical differences that truly distinguished him from his sons. However unlike them, he was a cold and calculating man; always striving to show the wizarding world that his influence permitted its control. If someone opposed him, they would disappear not long after and were never to be heard from again.

"This is your last chance," he threatened, his voice chilling. Sirius ignored him and marched through the hall and towards the exit. Everyone had gone silent as the scene unfolded, well, everyone save Bellatrix who let loose a malicious cackle. Mélanie caught his eye just as he exited. The last thing she saw were his lips turned up in a sneer.

As if a spell had been broken, the hall went into an uproar. Bellatrix was the first to dart out after her cousin, seeming to relish the idea of punishing him for his actions, and was pursued by some of the other guests. A few women went to console Walburga. They probably thought she was shaking out of sadness, but knowing her, it was most likely because of her anger. Whispers erupted as the string quartet desperately tried to diffuse the tension by playing once more.

Mélanie did not really care about the wedding most probably being called off. Like mentioned above, she was not too keen on the idea to start off with. She kept her face impassive as she brought her glass up to her lips, letting her gaze wonder up to the top of the staircase. Orion still stood there, desperately trying to keep his anger in check as his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

A single strand of hair had fallen from his sleeked-back hair and hovered in front of his eyes, taunting him.

Because, whilst the Black family liked to pretend that they were they were still the most influential wizarding family, they were very much unravelling at the seams. From the smirks of the Zabini and Yaxley patriarchs, they seemed all too aware of that little fact.

Later that night, as everyone left, Mélanie had not touched a single drop of alcohol and just watched a few drunken fools try to spin so as to Disapparate only to fall face first on the grass. When the house had become quiet once more, Walburga made sure to blast the traitor off the family tree. From now on, she only had one son.

Hi everyone :) Anything you recognise is owned by J.K. Rowling

I'm rewriting this and the two following chapters because I didn't like what I wrote (did it for stress relief really so it was a bit... meh) and didn't expect anyone to actually read it. Hopefully this version is better.

Thanks for reading and would love feedback on this

- Wicked