Warning: There is content of child abuse. It is not much descriptive in this chapter, but still demands me to make a reminder. The M rating is not for nothing. Pass the story if you are not up for it.

Touched Your Lips

by Ydream08

Chapter 10

"Ooh, Remus got himself a crush?" James whispered, jabbing their sandy-haired friend in the ribs. Remus hushed him consequently, but his blush was apparent on his cheeks.

"I'd be jealous," Sirius added with sparks in his eyes and a grin to his face while he buttered up his toast. It was morning, one that didn't lack the mayhem. It was because of the Ravenclaw girl. Second year. Dark brown haired with too big a pair of eyes to her small face. "She's definitely a fan. Has been following you. I don't worry, though. It is obviously unrequited."

"I don't know what you are talking about. I mean- I never thought..." Remus blanched. He had not given the girl any mind then. Not even after she snuck up to him in front of the Great Hall merely half an hour earlier, and asked him to help her study. "I'll help her study, that's all.

"Imagine a common room of bright people, House of Intelligence, you know; but you go ask help from a Gryffindor." Sirius shrugged, "You love us better, mate. That I don't doubt."

When he returned to his meal, Remus was given chance of a monologue of how he did not like like the girl -hence proving Sirius' point- and wouldn't be interested anyway. It was just helping her with charms. James was the only one of the thirteen-year-olds who was undeniably in love, the others newly bordering about being curious to the foreign emotions. Sirius was a curious person by nature.

But curiosity had nothing to do with how he was meant to attend the vows of the love of the decade.

That was what the Malfoy wedding was called sometimes. Among many other things.

Half of the Slytherins from year five and above were absent due to the event. Nobody wished to miss it.

Except for Sirius, of course.

He had to go to the Headmaster's office after breakfast, floo home, and obey his mother's wishes that would entail him to flaunt as the heir of the Blacks by the evening. Sure, Sirius wouldn't miss Cissy's wedding for anything; she was the second best cousin he had after Andy. But he wasn't thrilled at her choice of husband.

Malfoy was a right git.

Mocking Sirius' acceptance to Gryffindor was the mildest of the man's faults. His view that Sirius was a blood-traitor was of no importance to the young Gryffindor, but it understandably declined Malfoy's behaviour toward him. Sirius couldn't help but feel like a cockroach made of gold. Gold because that was all being a Black had gained him, Sirius summarized. And it was as though he clung to Malfoy's shoes at the corner of his sight whenever the two were in the same room.

Sirius had to begrudgingly accept that the git acted like a prince when it came to cousin Cissy, though. She was all that he could see, and one smile from his cousin made the man docile.

Docile or not, it had been outright spectacular to have witnessed the man get knocked down by Miss Hermione.

Sirius couldn't help but think about the young woman since that family dinner uncle Cynus was unable to attend. It wasn't everyday that a witch pointed her wand at a Malfoy, and the little surprise of her mysterious relation to Sirius made everything even the more enthralling.

Not to mention, it turned out to be her who sent the study planners and notes to James.

Perhaps Sirius could dance with her tonight in the wedding, compliment her and make her swoon just to have his promised explanation about her ancestry.

He could very well invite his daughter to a dance, right?

Confused but thrilled by the situation at the same time, Sirius had a skip to his feet as he made his way to the floo attached to the Headmaster's office.

Kreacher was there to greet him and for once Sirius didn't mind the elf sneering at him. He was informed to wait for Reggie, the two brothers were to floo to the Malfoy Manor to their mother.

Kreacher added, "Lord Black will come accordingly," which definitely meant late.

Sirius huffed. His father was rarely around. Sirius liked it that way, truthfully. When he was indeed home, Sirius was left with no choice but to surrender to his mother. He couldn't even have the tiny consolation that his words hurt Walburga Black, made her furious and red with shame. He could never hurt her back in an equal measure, but when his father was there, all he said was, "She is your mother. You will treat her as such. I won't hear nothing more."

And after that intervention, Sirius would be left alone with his mother again. Until his father came back again to check on them because of all the shouting and curses, cries and delirium. Sirius would get an earful once and for all; then Orion Black would do the only thing he was good for: He would drag Walburga out of Sirius' bedroom where he would be locked for the remaining night.

Sirius should have known this schedule would uphold today. Weddings were no exception, it seemed.

Even if it was the Malfoy wedding, even if the Blacks cared about their image to the society, even if Orion Black seemed as a functional father to the outside world, none of it were enough to prevent when Sirius went and did it again. Be himself, that was.

It was a frenzy when the Black brothers set foot in the Malfoy Manor. House-elves were popping in and out of sight, carrying decorations, food, refreshments, everything. His mother was not around bossing everything that walked, but apparently that duty had been given to his cousin Bella. She barked orders as if it was second nature to her.

Sirius doubted it wasn't.

Reggie had received kisses to his cheeks while he was shoved by the shoulder, their cousin Bella sending them to the gardens where the cocktails were to be served till the nuptials.

It was noon so nobody had arrived yet. Uncle Rosier and Lord Malfoy stood by a table, drinking early as the Blacks and the elves running around to get everything ready.

Sirius had come across Ms. Parkinson, cousin Cissy's friend from Hogwarts, while she rushed about crying out something that sounded like 'veil'.

An hour later Uncle Cygnus arrived, directly joining Malfoy Sr.. That was the moment Uncle Evan beckoned them forward, intending the two youngsters to accompany them.

"You are both here early," Uncle Rosier commented.

Sirius shrugged. "It's not like we're girls. All those from Slytherins left earlier than me, but no one's around."

Uncle Rosier scratched his beard. His long hair was tied at the back, but since it was not as long as the groom's, his chin-length red hair came loose close to his eyes.

Righting the loose strands, he huffed. "Woman, mate. They need the-" -he checked his clock- "-five hours till the cocktail starts. No amount of spell could make them pretty, but alas, they try."

Reg and he giggled, but Lord Malfoy and Uncle Cygnus seemed to not share Uncle Rosier's joke.

Somebody who would appreciate it joined them not soon after. Alphard Black was the best uncle in the world. At the age of fifty five, he was of the few wizards who still sought for adventure and risk. He was a famous curse-breaker, though not the kind to be employed by the Ministry or banks like Gringotts. Being a Black, although he had passed the chance of being a successor, uncle Alphard had more money than half of the wizarding society, thus he was in no need of a job with steady income.

No, uncle Alphard took on dangerous quests made by shady witches and wizards. Sharing his sharp memory, Sirius knew his uncle's fascination of Dark Arts combined with his thirst of treasure hunting, had made him one hell of a storyteller. It made it all the better that the stories were true.

"Late to the party, am I?" Uncle Alphard asked, patting his nephews at the back. "You two have grown much. Especially you, Sirius. And that hair of yours! Phew. You must have a hard time hiding from Walls."

Sirius grinned from ear to ear. His hair had grown long enough to tie up. Something he loved as his tying bands were great at hitting targets. His mother was the infamous target outside of Hogwarts.

"You bet," Sirius said which earned him a wink from uncle Alphard.

"Regulus, my boy, aren't you the gentlemen amongst us! Excited for your letter?"

Regulus was shifting at the balls of his feet even at the mention of his impending Hogwarts letter. Sirius would have been excited if he were not. It was his bloody acceptance letter, only four months or so away! Sirius tried to ignore the faint dread that nibbed at his conscious. If Regulus was coming to Hogwarts, he wasn't joining Gryffindor.

As his brother, Sirius prayed for Ravenclaw. If her mother was a mind reader, he would surely be beaten for the mere thought, but he couldn't help it. Please, Ravenclaw.

"Not for the letter, not much. But my wand? It will be amazing, uncle."

His uncle and Rosier exchanged recent activities in which younger Blacks were left to their silence, however in content. It was rare that adults made them feel welcomed. At the age of thirteen, Sirius most of the time didn't fancy sitting at diner tables or breathing the same air as his parents and their friends.

Of course, it had something to with how his mother always looked at him as though a blemish to the Black name. She had the habit of ignoring him during the dinners, but at gatherings she was forced to bring him, his mother usually talked over him or change the subject of conversation if it ever strayed to Hogwarts.

Unluckily, this time, his mother wasn't there to sensor when the topic actually strayed to Hogwarts.

Uncle Evan and Alphard were not particularly interested in listening about his Gryffindor experiencences, but they sought for gossips about the teachers and the Quidditch Cup.

"Professor Sprout's absent this year. Maternity leave, last I've heard. But Minnie and Professor Sinistra are there. As well as Flitwick and Slughorn."

"Minnie? Who's Minnie?" intervened Uncle Evan.

"Minerva McGonagall."

"I know that name- wait, has she become a teacher? She had been an observant back in my day, coming and going with old Dumbledore."

Uncle Alphard was at loss who they were talking about. Uncle Evan seemed to share only a year with Sirius' professor, probably in his seventh year.

"Dumbledore is the Headmaster," Sirius informed. "So Professor McGonagall teaches transfiguration."

"And you call her 'Minnie'? Why?" Uncle Alphard was not angry per se, but even he wasn't thrilled to hear the nickname. Sirius nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"She's our Head of House, you see. And, I- well, she is Minnie."

"I see." Uncle Alphard seemed to be really interested for the first time when he asked, "So, what sort are there in Gryffindor?"

That's how Sirius get to spill about his friends and enemies. It was something he would never do, but having been asked, Sirius was compelled to actually share his grand experiences -laughs, pranks, detentions, fights- with his uncle who was attentively listening.

James was the first name that popped into Sirius' mind. As he explained how he was shite at potions regardless of his famous father, or how he crushed hard on a girl named Lily Evans ("Did you say Evans? Is she…" Sirius later registered this question of uncle Evan), or how the bespectacled friend of his was the easiest to share a laugh with after a Quidditch practice. Then he talked about Remus, the shy and studious boy whose sense of humor hit the perfect accord with Sirius. His uncle Alphard seemed to recognize the Lupin name, but no matter uncle Evan's narrowed eyes or the speechless and horror-stricken face of Regulus, Sirius continued to talk about how Remus freaked out about even the slightest interest a girl had shown in him.

When it came to Slytherin, and his less than savory thought about the Carrow twins and that Selwyn, Sirius could admit that the concern of thinking twice before he uttered another word had vanished from his mind.

He was just in the middle of telling the story of how he and James had jinxed the Slytherin brooms prior to a Quidditch game in retaliation of how they had taunted James with splaying a slur about his crush on the flags hanging in the Great Hall.

It was his mother's shriek that alerted him, but he was too caught up telling the story to stop before he was smacked at the back his head.

"Stop right at this instant. How dare you shame us! Uttering those filth at such a sacred day. Those worthless scum have been rubbing off you, and I'm sick of warning you, hear me?"

The sharp pain of his ear being pulled, twisted, made him wince but he refused to respond even if his ear felt like detaching from his head.

"When will you learn!" Sirius' eyes stung with tears and he felt so stupid for even sharing what he had, but it was not wrong. It was not wrong to yell back at his mother. Stupid but not wrong.

"LEARN WHAT? THEY ARE MY MATES AND NOTHING CAN CHANGE THAT."

His ear was freed but the next moment, his neck spun to the other side, his ears rung as his cheek burned where his mother had slapped him. Across the face. Unforgiving.

She leveled her gaze with him. Her breath was foul as her expression. Uglier than Peeves. And the Poltergeist smiled most of the time, something Walburga Black lacked even in her happiest day.

Her voice cut through the air and her words struck to his lungs, suffocating him along with the strong urge to cry. "Associating with rotten excuse of… of… even house-elves have their uses, but they don't; understand it? You are a Black-"

"Enough."

The deep voice stalled his mother, but Sirius had to quickly remind himself the sudden hope that filled his chest should be extinguished. His father would not stand up for him. It was always his wife. His business, foremost. But never him. Never Sirius. Never Regulus. Never them.

His sons.

"Silence Walburga," he said, then Sirius locked his gaze with his to challenge him. Perhaps this time, he wouldn't…

But he did.

"Apologize to your mother this instant. I won't tolerate you being disrespectful towards her. Are we clear?"

Sirius knitted his brows together and said what was sure to earn him a lock-up for the remaining of the day. Whether his father cared, Sirius didn't know.

Because it was never his father that took to his heart when Sirius disobeyed or shouted back. He was always...aloof, uncaring, unattached. Unlike his mother, Sirius had concluded long ago that his father was at peace with his existence. Not bothered by it, but not entirely involved.

Sirius' mother, though, abhorred every word that came out of his mouth. Sirius would always shame the family name, pull it through mud, engrave it to the society that Blacks were not as prestigious as they played out to be.

Because he was a Gryffindor. Because he associated with blood-traitors. Because he was friends with Mudbloods. Because he was a scum, himself.

"I won't," Sirius declared. His nostrils aflame, he continued. "She better apologize. She was the one to insult my friends. If they are hundred times the better wizards and witches than her, it's obviously not their fault-"

"You will."

His father's statement hung in the air for a few moments before Sirius glared at him and forced between gritted teeth: "I won't."

He shoved his way out and acted inside, but he was already aware of his mother following him.

"Kreacher!" she shrieked as Sirius sprinted to the fireplace. If only he could floo back Hogwarts…

"To downstairs, this time. No food or water. He will be chained."

Sirius had the floo powder in his hand, he threw it to the fireplace and shouted, "Hogwarts" but before he could step in, thin fingers grasped his upper arm.

Side-Disapparition twisted his gut but it was not because of that, that he vomited once he arrived back home.

He didn't want this. The scars on his back that were left from the last time his mother taught him to be a Black ached at the mere thought of what was bound to happen. He hated it. Hated his mother. His father. He hated himself.

He was an idiot to do the right thing. To befriend James and Remus. To be nice and respectful to Evans. To hate the guts of pureblood Slytherins.

He was an idiot.

But the right things, he did. Always.

Hermione had gotten used to being left to her own devices by Evan Rosier. The bigoted git would always ensnare a pretty witch within half an hour to their arrival. Just enough time to pass Hermione into an interested wizard's care.

She wouldn't have minded, normally. Evan was a man who was means than end for her. Enjoying his company never meant she would keep him, and it would have been impossible after all since the man was prone to share his ideals to Hermione's distaste.

After their night of intimacy, Hermione had made a mistake of wondering the man's true reason for affiliating with Voldemort, and she had boldly asked the next time they met.

She hadn't outright demanded to know why he was supporting Voldemort, but she was content to listen to his comments about her out-loud wondering about her ancestry.

The topic had quickly evolved into why the Muggle-borns and Muggles were a risk to the wizarding society.

One thing that had surprised Hermione had been that Evan hadn't spout nonsense that she had heard from Malfoy -Draco- in their time back in Hogwarts. There was a reasoning, not just insults and demeaning.

Muggle-borns were apparently a risk to the Statue of Secrecy. That was a minor setback as the likes of Evan favoured removing the law that forced the wizarding kind to hide in the first place. It was concerning for them that Muggles were growing in number, claiming their lands and restricting their magic use. Fear of a second round of witch-hunting at this era would be perilous as unbalanced numbers were against the wizards. Hermione hated to add in her head the fire guns and similar arsenal, let alone newly invented atom bomb.

That she understood somewhat. Not how they dealt with the Muggle concern, but the fact that it was a concern was plain in sight.

For Muggle-borns though. The real concern seemed to lay in the belief that they stole magic from deserving purebloods, turning them into squibs. If this was not enough, their vulgar ways and beliefs, lack of respect to the wizard culture and refusal to choose their magic when it came down to it, had made them undeserving to the right to their wand. Or so has Evan shared.

Hermione's head ached by the time he had finished sharing his thoughts. Her mantra that she fucking disagreed, was not enough to come up with a persuasive reasoning as to why he was wrong.

She was not surprised such belief had been exploited by Voldemort easily. Any politician would have swayed such people into agreeing with their ways, but Voldemort presenting the society to release their anger and take justice to their own hands had been alluring to everyone, it seemed.

That long conversation had smacked the truth in Hermione's face that taking Voldemort out of equation and going her merry way would never get her to achieve the peace she desired.

There had been peace in her own timeline because, through war and losses, it was reminded what was important. Not blood or power, but being human. Coexisting. Being respectful for one another. Even the very small minority had resentfully relented acceptance of Muggleborns if it meant that they would no longer be target by the Ministry, live in peace and not lose another member of the family. Many families had been broken because of the war. The bloodshed had not overlooked anyone.

Altogether, people learned.

So, in this time and place, 1970s, if Hermione were to destroy the Horcruxes and, say, suffocate Voldemort in his sleep, the next day there would be someone else to fill his place.

People would not share those experience and still seek for the revenge and ideals majority of the wizarding society held today.

Of course, this realization and their rather deep and political conversation was forgotten when Evan had spotted a witch in red dress.

He had a thing for red hair, dresses, lipstick, red anything. One would believe his own hair to be discouraging, but no, he preyed on those in red.

If she hadn't slept with the man and spent a considerable amount with him, she would suspect vampirism.

Hermione didn't think about Evan Rosier any further during the Malfoy wedding though. Truth to be told, she was distracted herself. At age twenty-six, Hermione had always thought males in her age group were childish, but she was amazed how much older man caught her eye. And how she caught their equally.

Really, there was no other healthy reason that she was in the arms of one Abraxas Malfoy, dancing to the third song now.

Vows were said and done. The magical binding had Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy contently swaying in each others embrace. Garden was full of people who were slowly stepping down from dancing to get seated for the meals.

"You are silent, Miss Granger."

At Abraxas' soft voice her eyes shot to meet with his. She had been trying her hardest not to mind his warm hand that firmly held her waist, and their rather grown proximity after the second song.

Her mind was also busy with considering his proposition. Become his Healer?

It was natural that her brain was on overdrive.

"Your proposition was…" He whiffed at her perfume, she was sure, but she had to be delusional to think his hold had shifted slightly to resemble a caress. Lower at her back, might she add. "Unexpected, that's all."

Malfoy Sr. nodded. "Not a rejection, then?"

Hermione searched his green eyes that gave nothing away. A colour so similar to his best friend turning out to be so distant was beyond her, but as she kept her gaze in place, she felt Malfoy Sr.'s proposition wouldn't be there on the table whole day.

It was a perfect opportunity to gather the diary, and even catch a passing information on the cup. And the ring, now that she thought about it. That left only the locket. Hermione suspected it was where Harry had told Hermione he had retrieved the artifact with Dumbledore, so she was in no rush to locate it just yet.

There was also the fact that she could be more in control with the situation with the Malfoy all the while giving the image that she was involved both with the Malfoys and Potters. A nice vantage point, if you asked her.

"Very well, then. I can't refuse someone in need."

His brows slightly knitted together but he made no sound till the end of the song. Once it finished, he led her to be seated and kissed the back of her hand as a farewell.

Abraxas Malfoy knew how to get the last say, her blushing face be damned. "Your assistance will indeed be needed."

It was as though the young woman was eager to please everyone but him. Orion grumbled, a few foul words gathering at the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them with an old Ogden's Ale.

It did his nerves little good to keep tabs on the woman throughout the night. She had been a menace.

Evan had been true to his word, bringing Miss Granger and leaving her to entertain herself. He was busy with some blonde woman, a widow if he recalled correctly. Older than them by two years but good enough for a shag for Evan, Orion suspected. There was no shame in admitting his friend was eager to bed anything on two feet.

Orion wasn't sure even Muggles were exceptions sometimes.

That was not the center of his attention tonight, though.

It was the woman in green robes that his eyes strayed to each time. It was her tantalizing deep v-neckline, the teasing glance of her round globes, that mocked him to his distasteful mood as of current. It was her voluminous hair donned in a loose bun, her glittering make-up and lovely legs that occupied his mind. After shedding her outer robes, her dress left little to his imagination. Although she wore elegantly, Orion Black could fill the blanks very easily.

He concluded it to be no wonder though, her attire and her generous smiles. Even in Abraxas' arms, she looked to belong there.

Belong in every which man that breathed.

Not me, his mind shouted resentfully but his bubbling anger that urged him to down another shot of whiskey supported that it was right of him to rid his mind of the woman.

She was just a half-blood slag. At best.

Her amber eyes, teary and full of emotion, her poise confident and feminine, her manners delightful and soothing were just facade that Orion had taken a short fancy upon her entrance to his life that very first day.

Miss Granger had climbed the ladder much quicker to his guesses though. First, Evan, and then Abraxas. Such a surprise.

Hello,

I concluded that I'm a night writer. So this is the last time I'm announcing this: I'm favoring sleep over editing again, so excuse me for any mistake you might notice!

I'd like to thank you, again, again and again! Hope you're enjoying the story :D

Take care!

-Ydream08