Disclaimer: I am secretly JK Rowling, and all of this is mine. Mine, I tell you! (No, it isn't - I'm just lying.)
Frowning, Narcissa watched as their owl flew off with the newspaper. "I hope Sirius realizes the gravity of the situation and does as he's told," she muttered to her husband, who rolled his eyes.
"Oh please," Lucius sneered over his breakfast tea, "since when has Black ever done what he was told?"
Narcissa shot her husband a disparaging look, but didn't bother with contradicting him; Sirius was, after all, quite notorious for not following the rules. "Perhaps he will be more cautious with Harry there. Draco, darling, don't chew with your mouth open."
Draco, who'd been listening in on his parents, immediately shut his mouth.
Lucius gave his wife a knowing look. "Love, that boy is just as bad as his godfather and father. It wouldn't surprise me if the two of them are out, doing whatever it is gryffindors do to pass time."
Pursing her lips, Narcissa sent a sly look in her husband's direction. "You're just cross they managed to get the upper hand of you, darling."
Scowling at his wife, Lucius huffed and returned to his breakfast, determined not to dignify that comment with an answer. This, of course, only made Narcissa smile, knowing that she'd won over her husband this time.
Draco, who was making an effort to chew with his mouth close so his mother wouldn't reprimand him again, stared between his parents. Someone getting the upper hand of his father? Hah, he snorted in his mind. Impossible.
"Draco, darling, your sandwich is about to lose its jam."
Realizing with a horrified start that his mother was right and that the jam was, indeed, on its way to drop down on his pants, Draco immediately hurried to set it down on his plate, eager to halt the impending doom that would've been ruining his trousers.
After shooting his son an approving look, Lucius turned back to his wife. "Was it really a wise choice to help him? He is a convicted murderer, and it could be possibly devastating should the Minister get knowledge of this."
Taking a sip of her tea, Narcissa carefully set down the cup on the table before looking at her husband with a frown. "There's something about that story that just doesn't add up," she said thoughtfully. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that Sirius of all people would end up killing a dozen muggles?"
"Darling," Lucius countered, "the man is crazy."
Narcissa's frown deepened, the woman still not convinced. "Only because Azkaban has made him so. I do not remember him acting anything like that before, and there was never even a hint that he would turn out to be one of the most feared criminals in our time. They even say he was a follower of Lord Voldemort."
Following his wife's train of thought, Lucius began to frown, too. "It is a bit odd, yes. But really, darling, everyone has secrets." He gave her a pointed look, which she had no problems interpreting; they knew a lot about keeping secrets, after all.
Still, she shook her head. "I would think that you of all people should know if Sirius had that particular secret, no?"
Lucius opened his mouth to contradict his wife's insinuation, but he knew before he even managed to utter a sound that it would be a hopeless campaign; she was quite right. He sighed despondently. "You think he was framed, then?"
She pursed her lips. "It's a possibility, yes. Grief could also be a factor; it happened just a day after the Potter's died, did it not?"
"Barely even that," Lucius confirmed. "He was sent to Azkaban two days later."
Narcissa nodded. "Without a trial, too, if my memory serves me correctly." She frowned again. "There's something that just doesn't add up. Why did he kill Pettigrew of all people? I distinctly remember them being friends in school."
"Perhaps he had been driven mad by grief? Such things does happen."
"Hm. Maybe." Narcissa didn't sound too convinced.
Lucius sighed. "If you want I could pull out the files from the investigation. No one's going to question it, what with Black being on the loose."
Narcissa gave her husband a thankful smile. "That would be lovely, dear, thank you."
Slowly shaking his head, Lucius returned to his breakfast, the suspicion that that was what Narcissa had been wanting all along gnawing at the back of his mind.
Thoughts spinning madly around his head, Remus couldn't quite say he knew what he was doing. The parchment lying before him was empty so far, the quill resting in his hand inkless. He shouldn't do this. He had no reason to do this. He left England long ago, there was no reason tearing up old wounds. He had a life here. He had no reason to go back.
Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples to deter the oncoming headache. Why did things have to be so complicated? Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He glared at the parchment. This was a stupid idea. He had no reason to go back there. Harry deserved a better guardian than him.
Remus sighed again and sat up straight in his chair. There were so many memories he'd tried to forget, so many thoughts he didn't want to think. Still, he dipped the quill in the ink-bottle, and slowly - all while second guessing and doubting himself - began to pen out a reply to one Mr. Everton of Everton and Greenley's on the subject Harry Potter.
"I thought your mother raised you better than that."
Harry, hiding behind Sirius, stared at the stranger, feeling more than a little frightened. Sirius hadn't reacted quite this strongly to any of their other surprise visitors, but for some reason Harry got the feeling that his godfather knew this particular stranger a lot better than the other ones.
Glaring angrily, Sirius growled at the man's remark. "My mother also taught me how a Black deals with unwanted intruders. Are you suggesting I should listen to her?"
The elderly man sighed. "You always were such an impetuous child," he murmured, shaking his head. "By Merlin, Sirius, lower your wand. I'm not going to attack you."
Sirius didn't lower his wand. "Why are you here?" he demanded, still glaring angrily.
"Do I need a reason to visit my fugitive grandson?"
Unable to stop himself, Harry gasped at the revelation. This man was related to Sirius? Said man glanced down at Harry as if only noticing him now, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion.
"A child, Sirius?" he asked, turning back to the wild-eyed escapee. "Pray tell why, exactly, you have a child here."
Growling, Sirius stepped in front of Harry, shielding him from the stranger's view. "That's no business of yours, Pollux," he spat, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip he had on his wand.
Harry, who was now outright afraid, stared between his godfather and the stranger. "Padfoot, who is he?" he whispered, eyes wide, voice shaky.
Sirius didn't take his eyes off the man. "Pollux Black," he explained, letting Harry plaster himself to his legs. "My mother's father."
That night Harry didn't even bother to go to his own room when it was time to sleep. After having climbed all the stair-cases, he quietly snuck into his godfather's room, a worried frown etched onto his features. Padfoot was still sitting on the bed, as he had been for the last few hours - ever since the stranger who was his grandfather had left - and Harry could see how the dinner-plate he'd asked Kreacher to deliver was practically untouched.
"Padfoot?" he mumbled, still standing in the doorway, but the man didn't react. Chewing on his bottom lip, Harry's frown deepened as he tried to make up his mind on what to do. It sure seemed like Padfoot had wanted to be alone, but quite frankly it broke his little heart to see the man he'd gotten used to living with looking so... lost. Swallowing nervously, Harry made up his mind, and slowly began to walk up to the bed. In a moment of boldness, he then promptly crawled up in Sirius' lap, leaning his head against the man's shoulder.
It immediately got a reaction; at first the man gasped, then he sighed, gently putting his arms around the boy. "I'm sorry, Prongslet," he mumbled, resting his chin on the top of the child's head. "Things have just been... hectic today." A humourless chuckle left his lips, and Harry could feel his godfather's chest reverberate.
"It's okay, Padfoot," the child mumbled, snuggling closer to the warmth. "Everything's going to be okay, right?"
Sirius chuckled again, this time more heartfelt, and gently stroked the child's hair. "I'm sure it will, Prongslet." He hugged the child closer to him. "I'm sure it will."
Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair, both Sirius and Harry waking early, neither able to fall asleep again. Kreacher served them breakfast in the kitchen for once, the little house-elf obviously bothered by the gloomy atmosphere, but, being a house-elf, he didn't quite know what to do. So, he served them their food, and then he stayed in the kitchen, wringing his hands as he watched his two humans pick at their food.
Considering his master and the child, Kreacher was thoroughly confused. He knew his dear old mistress would be quite cross with him if she found out, but he couldn't quite find it in him to feel cross at Master Sirius, despite knowing that he should be. The child was even worse; how could he be cross with something so clearly malnourished? The house-elf frowned at the child, and mentally made a note to give him a little more lunch than usual later.
Harry and Sirius finished their food - barely - but neither of them were eager to leave the kitchen; the only other liveable rooms in the house were their bedrooms and the living room, and the living room was clearly out of the picture. They had no interest in dealing with visitors today.
Unfortunately, visitors seemed to have interests in dealing with them, for suddenly the door to the kitchen opened, and all three - Harry, Sirius and Kreacher - turned around to see none other than Narcissa Malfoy walk in, her nose scrunched up as if she smelled something foul.
"This house is a mess," she muttered, more to herself than anything. "Kreacher! Get me some tea."
Stumbling over his "Of course, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy Madam," the house-elf immediately set to fulfill her orders.
Not waiting for an invitation, the blonde woman then sat down by the table, seemingly unbothered by the looks the two males were sending her. She turned to Sirius, one eyebrow raised. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "You look like you've been stampeded by a pack of hippogriffs."
If he was surprised by the odd analogy - Harry suddenly remembered Sirius had never told what a hippogriff was - Sirius didn't show it. "Pollux showed up," he explained, expression sullen, tone weary.
Narcissa gave him an arched look, and calmly sipped at the cup of tea Kreacher had placed before her. "What did the old man want?" She made an effort to keep most of her curiosity out of her voice.
Sirius shrugged. "He didn't really say." He thought for a second. "I didn't really let him say, either."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Sirius, what did you do?"
Despite his glumness, Sirius managed to look at least a little sheepish. "I may have sort of hexed him until he left."
"You may have?"
"Well, yes, sort of."
"Sirius..." Narcissa said with exasperation, shaking her head. "This means he knows. What if he decides to report you to the ministry?"
Sirius snorted, giving his cousin a contemplative look. "You've been a Malfoy for too long, it seems," he commented off-handedly. "He won't rat out on family, no matter what."
Narcissa realized with a start that he was right. It was not a pleasant realization; the silent hint that perhaps she wasn't a Black anymore cut deeper than she thought it would have. Perhaps she really had become a Malfoy. Shaking the surprisingly unpleasant thought away, she decided to change topic entirely; there was something that had bothered her for a while... "Sirius," she asked, fixing him with an intense stare, "were you framed?"
Sirius, who had been drinking from his glass at the time, sprayed water all over the table, coughing and spluttering. Harry couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "Merlin, woman," the convict muttered, shooting her a glare. "Can't you warn a fellow?"
Something akin to disgusted amusement playing on her features, Narcissa gave him a haughty look. "It's not my fault you can't drink properly. And you haven't answered my question."
Giving her a nasty look, Sirius cleaned up the mess he'd made with a flick of his wand, and then leaned back in his chair, turning his grey eyes to Narcissa. "Yes," he admitted, "I was."
Narcissa nodded. "I thought as much."
Suspicion written all over his face, Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. "How come?" he asked, his tone deceptively even.
The woman smiled. "Despite everything, I know you, Sirius; I grew up with you. You've never quite had it in you to do something like that."
Despite the whole situation, Sirius suddenly chuckled. "Oh, 'Cissa," he said, "you have no idea what I'm capable of."
Cassiopeia Black, a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, stepped out the fire-place at her brother's house, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she laid her eyes onto her cousin. "Arcturus," she said with surprised. "I did not expect to see you here."
The elderly wizard smiled crookedly at her. "It seems Pollux have something important to share, dear cousin."
Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed just a fraction. "It would seem so, yes," she agreed haughtily, giving him a superior look down her nose.
Arcturus only chuckled at her antics. "I have missed you, dear cousin," he said with his crooked smile, and then held out his arm towards me. "Now, why don't you and I go see what your dear brother has cooked up this time, hm?"
The elderly woman took his offered arm, a small smile tugging at her lips - she did so enjoy her little banters with her cousin - and then they both went deeper into the house in the search of Pollux Black, cousin and brother, both secretly curious about what the man wanted to share with them.
They found him in his study, half-hidden by a pile of books piled on his desk, seemingly occupied with a large, dusty tome. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he skimmed through the pages. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at her brother and sat down in one of the couches in the study. Arcturus remained standing, eyes full of amusement as he smiled crookedly.
"You should have been in Ravenclaw, my dear cousin," he teased, and it got the desired effect.
"Don't blaspheme, Artie," Pollux replied with a glare, finally looking up from his book.
Arcturus only smiled his crooked smile, grey eyes dancing with amusement.
"What is it you want this time, Pollux?" Cassiopeia asked, patience wearing thin. "If this is another one of your experiments, I swear I am going to hex you into the next century."
Pollux looked a tad bit hurt. "Really, Cassie. The last time was just an accident; I didn't mean for your hair to turn purple."
"Just get on with it, cousin," a still smiling Arcturus injected before the siblings could get started, "before dear Cassie starts hexing you."
Deciding that his cousin was most likely right, Pollux immediately turned to business. "I went over to Grimmauld Place yesterday," he began, secretly pleased how he had their complete attention before he'd even gotten to the good parts, "and I'm sure both of you can guess whom I found there."
Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed. "Surely Sirius wouldn't have returned there? The brat hates the place."
Pollux shrugged. "He must've realized it was the safest place."
"And no one would expect him to be there," Arcturus added thoughtfully.
"Exactly," Pollux continued, "but here's the real thing; he wasn't alone." The elderly wizard was secretly quite gleeful as he watched his sister and cousin's surprised faces.
"But who could've been with him? He isn't known to have had any accomplices."
Cassiopeia glared at her brother's smug grin. "Out with it, Pollux, or I start hexing things."
Decided that he had waiting enough - and not eager to be the target of one of Cassie's hexes - Pollux grinned at his visitors. "It was a young child," he began, "and I have reasons to believe it was none other than the Saviour of the Wizarding world, Harry Potter."
A/N: Woohoo, another chapter. This time Luscious and Narcissist gets an addition to their family with little Draconian, which really doesn't sound half bad. A bit pompous, perhaps, other than that it's quite okay. Pollux wasn't as fortunate, however; spell-check wanted to change him to Pollute, and Cassiopeia's nickname should apparently be Lassie. Though I'm sure she'd make a terrible rescue-dog.
