A/N: As always, I really welcome comments/reviews/messages - feedback always helps me know if I'm giving you guys a story you want to read.
1968, London
"Sirius, go change your shirt," Walburga Black commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. "I want you to look your best today."
"But –" Sirius started, tugging at the hem of his favorite Grateful Dead shirt (he had managed to convince his parents, barely, that it was a wizarding band, and though they disapproved of wrock, they had given up trying to tame his taste in music, and simply mandated that the shirt was not to be worn in public).
"Do not argue with me, Sirius Phinneas Black!" she yelled, and she shook her cane threateningly, making the boy scramble up the stairs.
Up in his room, he switched the black t-shirt for a grey button down, then shrugged on a black sports coat, looking prim and proper the way his parents wanted. Sirius didn't know why he had to dress so nicely, it was just his cousins coming over, but his mother insisted, and it wasn't worth another beating. He had long ago learned to pick his battles with his parents, although perhaps he hadn't learned well enough, because as he got older, he seemed to find more and more reasons to provoke them.
"Hurry up," Walburga called from downstairs, and Sirius jumped into action, bounding down the stairs and into the living room, sliding to a halt next to his younger brother, and eliciting a note of disgust from his mother.
"You need a hair cut," she tutted in disapproval.
"Well I'm not going to get one," he replied snarkily, earning him a swift smack on the arm from his mother's cane. It took a great deal of self-control to keep from rubbing at the welt – doing so would only earn him another, he knew.
Three swift knocks on the heavy front door sounded throughout the house, and they heard Kreacher hurry to answer the door. Sirius was sure the obedient little house elf bowed and scraped and offered to take coats, and the idea made him sneer to himself. Filthy creature, Sirius thought to himself. Not a moment later, six individuals trooped through the door, and Sirius could not say he was glad to see most of them.
His uncle, Cygnus, and aunt, Druella, came first – the former in a fine black suit and the latter in an elegant set of deep green robes accented with black. They looked like velvet, so Sirius could only assume that she was sweltering underneath them, not that she would ever show it. Bellatrix, the oldest of their three daughters, followed next, dressed in black leather from head to toe, with tarnished silver earrings and a black and silver snake ring adorning her finger. She wore a smug grin as she entered the living room, arm in arm with some guy Sirius didn't know. Andromeda came next, in her simple black dress and heels (the underside of which was bright red), with matching crimson earrings that looked like dripping blood, and she offered a sly smile to Sirius, one the others wouldn't see. She had always been his favourite cousin. Little Narcissa (well, little because she was the youngest, though she was still five years older than him) brought up the rear of the little procession, showing impressive dedication to her house in an olive green v-neck and short boots, a silver skirt, and earrings, a ring, a bracelet, and a necklace, all in the guise of snakes. The three girls, and the unknown boy, stood next to Sirius and Regulus while Cygnus and Druella greeted Orion and Walburga, and then the two older women turned their attention to the children.
"My, my," Walburga tutted approvingly. "Narcissa sure has grown quite a bit, hasn't she?"
"As has Regulus," Druella agreed. She eyed Sirius with disapproval, and neglected to comment on him, which suited him just fine.
"Andromeda, dear, you're getting a bit pudgy," Walburga sighed, patting Andromeda on the cheek. "Don't want people to think you're from one of those blood-traitor families – oh, the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Potters, they're all the same, all filth, and all quite plump."
"It's true, dear, it really is," Druella agreed, eyeing her middle daughter with disdain.
"Ah, and Bellatrix, so tough looking," Walburga grinned, and Bellatrix smirked with pleasure. "And who's your friend?"
"Auntie, this is Rodolphus Lestrange, he's a year older than me, but Slytherin too, of course," Bellatrix answered sweetly, a far cry from her true personality, Sirius knew. But she had always known how to deceive the grown-ups, that was for sure.
"Tell me, Rodolphus," Orion cut in, stepping forward and puffing on his pipe, emitting a large cloud of acrid green smoke right in the young man's face, "about your family."
"Pure-blood, sir," the young man answered respectfully, puffing out his chest as though very important. "Not quite as ancient as the noble House of Black, but still sir, quite old. And not a drop of Mudblood filth in our veins, not even through marriage."
"That is quite an achievement. Our own blood line," he waved vaguely at the family tapestry on the wall behind them, "has been soiled once or twice by marriage to vermin, but we have long since cut ties with those traitors."
"As you should, sir." Rodolphus replied, sounding very pleased with himself that he seemed to be passing the family interrogation with flying colours. "Keeping the bloodlines pure is of the utmost importance."
"Indeed, indeed," Orion agreed thoughtfully. "And your connections? Are you gainfully employed now that you've graduated from Hogwarts?"
"Father is very familiar with the head of the Auror office," Rodolphus explained, "so I've managed to secure a spot training there. Though, if I may be honest sir, I'm not sure how long I would want to be employed at the Ministry."
"And why is that?" Cygnus jumped in, sounding quite curious.
"Father was very close with a man named Tom Riddle while he was at school, sir, though he went by another name to those who knew him best," the young man told them in a hushed voice, as though imparting a very dear secret. "They haven't been in touch in ages, because Father says Mr. Riddle's been traveling, preparing something. Father says things are going to change around here when he gets back, and I imagine the Ministry will be the first thing to crumble. Good riddance too, the Minister is far too soft on half-breeds and Mudbloods and all kinds of filth."
"Yes," Cygnus hummed, "well, rumour has it Abraxas Malfoy intends to do something about our dreadful Minister."
The other three adults nodded in agreement.
"Well, Bellatrix," Orion concluded, stepping away, "it seems you've found quite a suitable young man."
Bellatrix grinned up at Rodolphus, although Sirius had the thought (which he had had many times before) that smiles on her looked rather grim – dark and twisted. He wasn't convinced that she was actually capable of feeling any sentiments that would generate a smile, so it was always forced, a fake.
Kreacher appeared in the doorway, bowing repeatedly to everyone in the room (although he bowed twice as often to Walburga as he did to anyone else).
"Can Kreacher offer Masters Black and Black, and Mistresses Black and Black, some tea?" he squeaked, eager to serve them.
"Yes, please, Kreacher. We'll take it in the drawing room, if you would," Walburga answered, and she swept out her arm to indicate that Druella and Cygnus should lead the way.
"I do hope the next Minister is someone with proper sense," Sirius heard his father saying as they proceeded down the stairs. "The half-breed situation is becoming out of control. Damn things should just be hanged, make the world a better place. Vicious, dirty things. And Mudbloods too, while they're at it."
The moment they heard the door to the drawing room shut, Bellatrix grabbed Rodolphus' hand, leading him out of the room and upstairs somewhere, probably to the attic. Regulus bounded over to Narcissa, pulling her by the hand over to the window seat and asking her to regale him with stories of Hogwarts. They small boy could not wait for his turn to attend, though he still had four years until his eleventh birthday. Andromeda looked at Sirius and he shrugged, following her to a corner of the room far from the other two, where they sat down cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the walls.
"Do you think it's all true, Andy?" Sirius asked, his voice low so the others didn't hear. "Everything they say about Mudbloods and half-breeds and non-human creatures?"
"I know it's not," she answered, just as quiet. "Look, you can't tell anyone, you have to promise that, okay?" He nodded enthusiastically. "I've met someone. His name is Ted, and he's Muggle-born, and he's no different from us, really. I mean, he is different, of course he is, but not in a bad way, not in a way that makes him worse than us."
"Mother says they're filth," Sirius replied quietly, as though it were a secret (when really it was anything but).
"They're not," Andromeda said matter-of-factly, sitting up as tall as she could. "I can assure, Ted bathes just a frequently as any other fifteen-year-old boy."
Sirius laughed quietly at the joke and Andromeda joined him, the two of them laughing so hard they cried and doubled over, trying hard not to make any noise.
"But what about half-breeds?" Sirius ventured hesitantly, and Andromeda paused.
"I've yet to see any proof that half-breeds aren't exactly what Mother and Father say they are – dirty, thieving, savage, dim-witted creatures that would kill us all if we didn't impose strict regulations," she answered at last, sounding firm and confident in her beliefs. Sirius, on the other hand, wasn't so sure.
"But what if –" he started, shaking his mane of black curls.
"Trust me, Sirius. You're only eight years old, you don't know yet. You'll see we're right one day," Andromeda said, patting him on the shoulder.
Sirius smiled at his older cousin, but some niggling concern settled itself in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't shake the feeling that none of it seemed right. He couldn't explain why – he had never met a half-breed, or a Mudblood, for that matter – but it just didn't seem possible that they could all be bad. Still, he trusted Andromeda, and if she said that was the case, he really ought to take her word for it. He probably just felt unsure because he was being rebellious and wanted to reject everything his parents told him, but he supposed they were bound to be right at some point. He smiled reassuringly and Andromeda lifted her hand from his shoulder, giving him a warm smile in return. They steeled themselves for dinner, where they sat, with the other four children (or rather, non-adults), not speaking unless spoken to, and listened to their parents rant about the tragedy of having Mudblood filth in charge of the Ministry, and the need for stricter laws to punish half-breeds and non-humans. The niggling feeling in Sirius' stomach grew and grew, but he pushed it aside for the moment, telling himself instead to trust his cousin and to eat his Sunday Roast.
Notes:
At this point in the story, Bellatrix would be 17, Andromeda would be 15, and Narcissa would be 13, and going into their 7th, 5th, and 3rd years at Hogwarts respectively.
