Kreacher appeared back in the bathroom humming. Life was good for him. He was a house elf for the noble and prestigious house of Black and the master and mistress knew what was befitting for a house of their status. He laid down master Regulus's velvet robes on the sofa and turned to him.
"Time to get out now, Master Regulus." He said cheerfully.
"No." was the mischievous reply he got back from the 9 year old master of the house.
Inwardly Kreacher groaned, he knew this was going to be difficult; Regulus always wanted things his way. And so it was. Ten minutes later Kreacher was fully soaked in bubbles and he wasn't sure how it happened but he was now blowing the bubbles in large size and making them all fly much to Regulus's enjoyment.
He would probably have to slam his head on the wall a few times if Regulus became late but he continued anyways. Regulus was the baby of the house for everyone.
"You're going to be late" said Sirius coolly. He came in fully dressed eyeing the mess with distaste. "Mother's going to be upset if you don't hurry."
"Fiine" grumbled Regulus. He giggled cheerfully as he slipped over the wet floor and popped a few bubbles on the way. "You're a party pooper!" he said to a stern looking Sirius. Privately Kreacher agreed. The eldest son of the Blacks took his job as an older brother very seriously and now that he turned ten he was trying to act more adult like. Not that that would stop him from continuously pranking Kreacher.
Finally they were both ready and immaculately dressed to see the guests. Kreacher led them to the guest room where all the guests already were in. The volume of the room raised as the boys came in with many oohing and aahing over the boys. Sirius smiled charmingly while Regulus became very reserved; he hated crowds and strangers and he stood a little behind his older brother.
"And these must be your two sons that I hear so much about" said an oily voice behind them.
They turned around to what looked like a man in drag. He was wearing emerald green robes lined with silver spangles and high heeled boots making him almost 6 feet tall. But it was his face that really was the center piece. It looked burnt but he was wearing so much foundation that he looked waxen. His eyebrows were arched high and his nose was sharp and high up as though it was cut. He wasn't more than thirty but he looked so peculiar that the boys couldn't help staring despite their good manners.
"Children" said Mrs. Black breathlessly, " this is Lord Voldemort.'
