Narcissa Black sat perfectly still, back arched properly, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in front of her, resting on the beautiful dalbergia bartop. She was tense, her taupe brow furrowed, silver eyes cold as ice, round, painted lips pursed softly, chin held high, peering straight ahead. Her long, smooth, golden hair was draped over her thin shoulders, keeping the back of her neck warm from the chill in the room. She wore a beautiful pale yellow, frilly blouse tucked into high waisted sable trousers, her feet sporting pristine gogo boots. She glanced down at her hands, gently rubbing the long, french-manicured thumb into the crook of the knuckle of her index finger.

"Hello, Cissa," A familiar, suspicious voice greeted her tentatively. He sounded amused, confused, and far too arrogant. The woman spun on her stool, putting her elbow on the table and leaning back, glaring daggers as she studied him, nose turning up and lip curling in distaste.

He'd grown quite a bit since last they'd seen each other, though to be honest, Narcissa had only seen him a handful of times throughout their lives. She supposed he'd probably been at the many house parties and holiday gatherings thrown by her aunt, his mother, but she couldn't really recall him much. The last she remembered seeing his face- though it did look quite a bit like everyone else in their, ahem, close family- was… Ten, ish, years ago? They weren't close enough in age to have gone to Hogwarts together, were they? How old was he, exactly? Anyway… He stood probably over two meters tall, with shoulder-length, wavy black hair framing his too-handsome face. As was commonplace in the Black family, he was as pale as a person could be, with shining silver eyes, and an angelic, unbelievably attractive face. His good looks, however, were seriously down played by his presentation; he wore a loose, worn shirt boasting what Narcissa could only assume was some Muggle punk band underneath an old, thick leather jacket and tucked into horribly torn jeans. Large boots sat on his feet and his wrists were wrapped with studded leather bands, his fingers donning several rings. When he tipped his head and exhaled harshly through his nose, she looked up to notice that not only were his ears pierced, but his nose was, as well, and she nearly gagged. He looked ridiculous.

"Sirius," she said, tongue dripping with a sour tone. He seemed a bit less amused at her expressions.

"Well, on with it then, dearest cousin," He sneered out. "I must admit, I was quite surprised to be invited here, and I am more than curious to know what a vile, filthy human being such as yourself would want with me." Sirius took a few steps closer, his wand slipping into his hand from his jacket sleeve. Narcissa tensed, glaring up at him, concern filling her. "After all, I'm sure you know I'm not too friendly with Death Eaters and I hope you would be smart enough to know I won't make an exception just for family, even with as close as we are," Sirius was all too close to Narcissa know, leering down at her. She stood, nose to nose with him, only a handful of centimeters shorter than him. She- quite offended and moderately worried- slipped her left sleeve up, revealing an arm without a Dark Mark.

"Quite a bad sign that the Order doesn't even know who is or is not a Death Eater," She said sternly, all too aware of her close affiliation with the group via her fiance, Lucius Malfoy. Sirius glared at her, studying her face closely. Narcissa hoped dearly he did not know Legilimens.

"What do you want, Narcissa?" Sirius said in a surprisingly soft tone, his voice deep and soothing. She felt a shiver shoot up her spine.

"Word has it you've been doing a lot of… Unsavory things." Narcissa said. "And it's beginning to reflect badly on the family."

Sirius gave a dark laugh, looking away before back into her eyes, shifting, his shoulder almost brushing against her. "The family? I'm not a part of the family anymore. Mother disowned me."

"Do you think people care? Your actions reflect badly because you're still tied to us by blood- by lineage. You will never really be seperate from this family, and everyone but your delusional mother- and, apparently, you- know it." Sirius closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled sharply through his nose, bathing her jaw in hot breath. He smelled like whiskey.

"I do what I want. I don't care what anyone thinks of me, much less your meaningless family," Sirius said sardonically.

"No one cares what you do, Sirius," Narcissa replied, tiring of this conversation. "All I ask is that you be a bit more discreet about it. Have your fun doing whatever filthy things is you do- just don't let everyone and their brother know about it. You'll notice it will benefit you quite a bit, as well, I presume."

"My reputation helps me a lot as it is, Cissa," Sirius said. "You're wasting your time." He turned, but she grabbed his elbow. He glared at her over his shoulder.

"What is that I can offer you, Sirius? Money?"

Sirius gave a cruel laugh, turning and closing in on Narcissa so fast she stumbled back, her knees hitting the stool. He sneered down at her. "I don't need your damned money." He growled. Narcissa tensed, breathing a bit more heavily. He wouldn't lay a hand on her, she was certain, but it was still… Disconcerting.

"Then what is it, Sirius? What do you want?"

"You don't have anything that I want," Sirius scoffed, turning once more. Again, Narcissa gently put a hand on him.

"Please, Sirius," Narcissa whispered. Agitated, Sirius sighed, pausing but not even deigning to glance at her. "This family and it's reputation mean the world to me. I know you don't give a damn about any of us- and, maybe, you've been given good reason- but it's different for me, for Regulus, and hopefully for our families. We haven't done a thing to you. Please. Our entire family isn't your mother."

Sirius tensed. Then began walking again. Desperate, she rushed in front of him, and he tilted his head back, anger apparent on his face. She put her hand under his thick coat to touch his warm chest, peering up at him, concern on her face, and after a moment he looked into her face, eyes intense.

"Please," she whispered. "Think about it."

He didn't reply, but rolled his eyes, looking away and stepping forward. She stepped back and gripped his shirt, earning herself a glare in return. "Please tell me you'll at least consider it."

With an agitated sigh and another roll of his eyes, he shrugged. "Whatever, fine. Now let me go." She took a step to the side and watched him walk from the off-to-the side breakfast nook in her kitchen, stalking with heavy boots out the archway with Konky the House Elf scurrying after him to see him out.