Chapter Ten

Christmas sneers

"I commend you for making an effort," Harry says as he slithers his hand around Tom's arm and burrows closer to the man.

Tom is making an effort but that is the whole point of this social exercise Harry has organised. Dark Lord or not, the wizard needs to be more social and less homicidal, and a party is a perfect way to force Tom Riddle to mingle and not curse people on the spot. It makes warmth bubble in Harry's chest.

Tom's expression is one of utter boredom and his voice is flat when he replies, "I fail to see why this gathering is necessary. I happen to know my Inner Circle; I chose them after all."

"Trust you to miss the whole point of this." Harry lets out a gruff breath. "This isn't about your Inner Circle. They're not Death Eaters tonight; instead, they are people. Just wizards and witches having a good time and you are not allowed to curse anyone. This isn't a work function, Tom. It's supposed to be about fun and making friends with the people working for you."

"I do not want to make friends," sniffs the irate Dark Lord.

"And I don't find it all that surprising that you have no friends. Seriously, your attitude is terrible. No wonder you have henchmen."

"They need to fear me, not expect heart-to-heart chats over tea and scones."

Harry chuckles. "No, they shouldn't fear you. The word you're looking for is respect, Tom. And maybe a little bit of fear."

"Don't you have others to annoy." Tom raises a brow. "Go find your little friends and leave me to my menacing. Having you hang on my arm ruins the image of a fearsome Dark Lord."

"You know, I'm not entirely sure if you're being sarcastic or serious."

Tom's lips quirk a bit, but his expression doesn't change much. Harry releases his arm, and for a moment, Tom isn't sure if Harry is taking him seriously or not, but his thoughts are erased as Harry grabs him by the lapels and pulls him into a kiss. It isn't a particularly long snog, but it is effective. Just as Tom is about to slide his tongue into Harry's mouth, the younger wizard ends the kiss and grins. It is an evil grin. "With your precious image to consider, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until the end of the party."

Tom's face is now set in a scowl. He looks angry and aroused, but mostly just ready to slam Harry against a wall and claim him. Audience or no audience.

Harry only offers a teasing smile and lightly taps Tom's nose with his finger, making fun of him. "Enjoy your menacing, oh fearsome Dark Lord."

As Tom watches Harry's retreating back, especially his pert arse in those snug trousers, he has to wonder. Perhaps he has done something good in the past life, after all, to have been rewarded in the current one. Harry is that reward.

He gazes around the ballroom. All these wizards are his to command; they serve him and help him further his cause, and yet he can't recall ever thanking them for their unwavering support. It is a ridiculous thought really; him thanking those who serve him. A preposterous and humiliating thought. That is one of the reasons why he needs Harry.

His husband gets along with everyone and they all like Harry. He is that link between himself and the Death Eaters; he is the line of communication and in turn, the Death Eaters give their complaints and ideas for Harry to pass on. It is a wonderful system; one that makes sure that the Dark Lord never has to hold staff meetings with his minions and discuss stupid matters like team-building, seating arrangements and such rot. Harry is the one who encourages that nonsense and the party is one of those times, but Tom can't deny his spouse anything. What Harry wants, he usually has by the end of the day. The green-eyed wizard in question is standing with a group of five; Tom recognises Draco and his loony bride, but the others are unfamiliar. Offspring of his followers, no doubt.

Not far from the younger generation, Tom notices the Lestrange brothers conversing with the Weasley twins. The pair of heathens have silly party hats on. One has antlers on top and the other's hat is cone-like and green, with little red bells on the side. The four of them are sharing a bottle of firewhisky between them, which explains the laughter and rowdy noises.

No one seems to mind that the Dark Lord is among them. It is oddly refreshing. Tom wants to slouch his shoulders and stop glaring as if everything personally offends him. Perhaps Harry isn't so wrong after all. Party or not, there is still a need to discuss work-related matters. Tom instantly feels more like himself when Lucius walks over and says, "My Lord, I've spoken to Severus and he thinks he might have a solution to the ginger infestation in the cellar."

Tom smirks. He can always count on the two if faced with a magical puzzle. He inclines his head for Lucius to continue, "As we established, the spell to damage the magical core is too dangerous to use and Severus could not think of a potion which would mirror the same effects, but he did have an idea. The wards around the cell would require too much energy, but we think that a magical restraint could be used to block Weasley's magic. He won't permanently lose it, but he won't be able to use any magic; it would be as if he had none."

"Go on," Tom says, his interest growing.

"It would be similar to a spell used to contain magic; comparable to the spells used to bind uncontrollable magic in young magical children. Only this spell will block out all of Weasley's magic, not just reduce it to a containable state. With the blocking spell on him, Weasley won't be able to access his magic and the block can be removed by the one who placed it on him."

Now Tom feels excited. It is almost elevating. "Oh yes, I do like the idea. It would be even better than taking his magic from him. No, we'll let him keep it, but he won't be able to summon a speck of dust with it. I will tell Harry and he'll decide when to do the spell."

"The block must be placed by someone magically powerful, my Lord. To ensure that it will work."

"Leave that to me, Lucius. I'm sure I'm up for the task," the Dark Lord says with an almost vicious glint in his eyes. "I have not seen Severus all night. Will he be joining the festivities or does he plan to languish in the brewing room until the sun rises?"

Lucius snorts to himself and clears his throat, ignoring the raised brow from his Lord. "Severus is about as festive as a funeral. He will not come on his own."

"I'm surprised that Harry hasn't noticed it yet."

Lucius comments with a thin smile, "Ah, well...Harry did send Sirius to fetch the surly Potion master but tactless as he is, Sirius barged in on Severus in a rather awkward moment. Severus is a very private wizard and I'm sure he will not join the party, knowing that Sirius is here."

"Sometimes I think I ought to curse them both for keeping this ridiculous feud going, but then I find myself entertained by the sheer bull-headedness of such a composed individual as Severus Snape. I will not waste curses on them if they insist on doing it themselves," the Dark Lord states, wearing a faint smirk. "Perhaps another duel would settle it. I heard it was rather inspiring; even Bellatrix was impressed."

Lucius hums. "Severus is still rather tetchy."

"It is his natural state, but I cannot blame him for trying to separate Black's head from his shoulders. I have the same urge every now and then. Harry would never forgive me for mutilating his pet dog," Tom muses and glances at Lucius. He is talking about the man's lover after all. "Harry is happy for the two of you."

Lucius' face softens. "Harry's approval means a great deal to Sirius."

"When will the divorce be finalised?" Tom asks, suddenly feeling like he is talking to a friend. It is a strange thought. Lucius is like a friend to him, isn't he? So he can be nosy about his private affairs, right? The Dark Lord has no idea because he has no friends, aside from Harry.

"It was a mutual decision and Narcissa didn't make any outrageous demands, so it should be fairly quick."

"It will not stay undisclosed; the paper will eventually plaster it all over the front page. It will be a welcomed distraction, I think. Other news will be overlooked and it will work in our favour. I plan to secure the Ministry soon; it is a matter of weeks now. I want a smooth transition, something the public will not notice until the deed is done."

"It's a sensible tactic," Lucius points out, "with the Ministry implementing new laws and cleaning house; it will not be a hard sell. Fudge singlehandedly destroyed the reputation of the Ministry and we've only just managed to gain credibility. Trust won't be given overnight, but the Ministry is in a balanced state at the moment and Scrimgeour has done an adequate job in winning the support of the public."

"I quite agree," Tom notes with a small quirk of his lips, "however, we still have a long road ahead of us. Mindless sheep they may be, but they are not that stupid. I cannot make myself the Minister for Magic right away; not without support and a strong platform. No one will vote for Lord Voldemort."

Lucius suggests, "Then why not set up your candidacy under a different name? Either as Lord Slytherin or perhaps even as Lord Gaunt. The title is yours and the House of Gaunt was once prominent and respected; one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. That could be used to gather the support of the old families."

"I have thought about it, but some who remember are still alive. Besides, I look far too young to be of the Gaunt line, and it is believed to be gone. I was the one who helped eradicate the line, leaving myself as the last Gaunt."

"Dumbledore knew, but he is no more and I doubt anyone else remembers. You should claim the title as the last remaining Gaunt. Discuss it with your husband."

Tom asks, "Why should I bring Harry into this?"

"You will not bring him into it because he is already part of it. As your husband, he needs to be informed, and as I told Harry earlier, everything he knows will only help him gain an advantage. He will not be hidden away for long and his status as the Saviour of the Light will only make it harder for him to keep his personal life confidential. He needs to be prepared for it."

Tom seems to consider Lucius' words for a while and finds them to be true. He asks, "Will you be willing to assist Harry with the Prophet and other publications? He is young and impulsive. I think he would rather tell everyone to bugger off than give out any information. I want to protect him as much as possible."

Lucius gives a nod. "I will instruct him when the time comes. I will make sure he is in control of what gets published. He is rather shrewd and already has a good idea how he wants to present himself."

"He is now Lord Potter, and as I understand he is also going to be Black's heir—for the time being at least." Tom keeps his face neutral. "Unless Black manages to beget an heir of his own blood." The Dark Lord sips his drink. "I will approach the subject after the holidays, Harry is easily distracted and he wants to spend time with his friends. Have Black collect the eldest Weasley scion tomorrow morning. Harry will want him here to discuss the fate of his brother."

Lucius nods in understanding but doesn't comment. He is still thinking about Tom's little quip about Sirius producing an heir.

ooo

Neville likes mornings. He enjoys the soft sunlight, the crisp morning air and the prospect of having a productive day ahead of him. He likes to take a stroll through the garden and sip steaming coffee while he does it. He loves the smell of morning dew in the greenhouse, watching the water droplets decorating the glass walls trickle down. Neville Longbottom is undeniably a morning person.

So when he opens his eyes, he expects to see streams of sunlight filter in and the smell of lingering night air. However, this time is different. He blinks his bleary eyes and notices that it is dark; heavy drapes pulled over the window, blocking all light from piercing through. The four-poster bed feels unfamiliar; not as soft as his own and notably wider. The air doesn't hold the sweet scent of morning dew, but rather a tangy floral scent that assaults his nostrils. His head feels heavy and his limbs seem powerless, but he still has enough in him to scamper out of bed when an arm shoots up from nowhere and drapes over his chest.

Completely naked, Neville Longbottom stands before the huge bed. His mouth had fallen open sometime after bolting from the bed and rubbing his eyes enough to see clearly. Despite the darkness of the room, Neville sees the outline of his bed partner, or rather the bare leg on top of the bedcovers. From the person's toes to their hipbone. A hand with fingers that are decorated with two rings and a bracelet and nails painted dark red. It is definitely a girl and Neville sincerely hopes that it isn't Bellatrix. Her face is partly covered, but she has dark hair spilling all over the pillows.

When the figure moves and stretches, Neville recognises the face and lets out a puff of breath. He's actually relieved because he might get out of this with his life.

"What's the hurry, Hot-bottom?"

Pansy Parkinson yawns and pushes the tousled locks out of her face. She is smiling rather predatorily; like a cat who has cornered the mouse and is about to sharpen her knife. She rises to her elbows and gazes at Neville with hooded eyes. In a snap, Neville reaches out and pulls a cushion to cover his privates.

"I already know what's under that pillow. No need to be so bashful," Pansy giggles and crooks a finger at Neville, "Come to Pansy, big boy."

Neville shakes his head and looks around, "How did I end up here? What happened?"

Pansy groans and slouches back into the bed. "Oh, you're one of those Gryffindors. It's just my luck. Well you see, stud...Pansy has no clothes on and neither does Mister Longbottom."

"No, I mean...I know what happened, it's pretty obvious, but I can't remember how we ended up in this room. Weren't we in the alcove, drinking some type of fruity cocktails?"

Pansy smirks. "Oh, that was fun, wasn't it? We were told to vacate the alcove by Draco, who wanted to stick his hand under Lovegood's dress again. We went outside; the garden was so pretty under all that snow. You really know a lot about trees."

Neville remembers bits of it. He recalls heavy snogging, but—oh...

"Remember now, darling?" Pansy grins, wearing a smile that is both lazy and provocative.

Neville blushes. They had talked, snogged and consumed alcohol. After some more snogging and groping, Pansy had found a bedroom upstairs and dragged him into it, slamming the door shut before jumping him. Then they had sex; lots of enthusiastic sex. No wonder his legs are jelly.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Neville sighs. It is very out of character for him to do something like this. Let alone with Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin who had been nothing but conceited in Hogwarts. Typical arrogant Slytherin, with long legs and those wonderful hips and creamy skin.

"Don't get all simpering now, Longbottom. Whatever. It happened and I won't force you to confront your righteous inner Gryffindor." Pansy huffs, her voice flat. She casts the covers aside and throws her legs over the edge of the bed, wiggling her toes.

Neville watches as she gets on her feet, counting the freckles on her back and trailing his eyes down to the curve of her shapely rear. Pansy collects her attire that is scattered around the room, her face set in a blank mask. She turns and Neville feels his groin twitch. Her breasts are for Neville to see and she doesn't seem to care about strutting around naked, but it is affecting Neville in a rather odd way. Neville likes girls; he is attracted to the shape of them, the curves and the silhouette of a woman's body. Their voice and softness, but also the strength of them. Parkinson definitely has all the boxes ticked.

Pansy Parkinson is slender, but not too thin; she has curves and Neville wants to run his hands down them, explore the ridges and bumps of her body.

"Look your fill, Longbottom; I won't stop you." Pansy winks as she finds her silk panties, but whatever she is about to add to it is cut short by Neville who grabs her by the wrist. He pulls Pansy flush against him, skin to skin, and slides his hand down her back to the top of her lush arse.

"My inner Gryffindor isn't all that righteous, to be honest," Neville says, pressing his body closer to Pansy's. "I don't usually act like this."

Pansy purrs, "Act like what? Like a sexy fiend, hmm?" Neville ducks his head and avoids Pansy's mirthful eyes. "I quite enjoyed your low inhibitions last night. You won't hear any complaints from me. Tell me, were you a virgin?"

Neville shakes his head, "No, but I am reasonably new to all this."

"Care for a demonstration then? I would be happy to help you unchain that wild beast you've been hiding from the world. You're more than competent in the sack, darling, but I think there is definitely room for improvements."

"A flattering remark or an insult?"

Pansy laughs. "A bit of both. I enjoyed myself last night, that's all you need to know at the moment."

A part of Neville wants to know more. He lifts Pansy up bridal style and deposits her on the bed. Pansy's protests die on her lips as Neville descends on her and covers her with his body. Neville is a fit specimen now; tall and wiry muscles in all the right places. He isn't buff like Goyle, but Pansy's eyes rake over his body with gusto. All that gardening and heavy lifting have paid off after all. Pansy's legs fall open to let Neville settle above her. The witch groan when she feels the wizard's hardening cock rubbing against her inner thigh.

"You said something about a demonstration."

Pansy huffs out a laugh. "Eager little lion, well—not little where it counts. Are you feeling brave, Gryffindor?"

"Actually, I feel like a cup of coffee and the customary morning paper for morning laughs."

"Is that so?" Pansy raises a brow and bucks into Neville, teasing him, "I can do coffee. Are you free, oh let's say... in an hour?"

Neville really is a Gryffindor and in his gut, he feels a deep need to charge head first into battle. 'Fortune favours the brave' is Neville's last coherent thought before he gives into the urge of the moment.

He flicks his tongue over Pansy's nipple, teasing it into hardness. He swirls his tongue around it and then sucks hard. Pansy screamed in a shrill voice. She can't keep herself from giggling and moans as the wicked tongue does it again and again until Neville moves to the other nipple. Satisfied with his work, the Gryffindor trails kisses down her stomach, pausing to nuzzle the soft skin of Pansy's abdomen. The witch twists her fingers into Neville's hair, tugging and scratching, unsure whether to push the head lower or pull him up for a snog.

"Morgana's knickers!" Pansy groans as he feels Neville's lips against her clit. "You're a fucking champ, Longbottom."

Neville lets out a laugh and lifts his head. "I think this warrants the use of first names."

The witch moans out as she enjoys being stimulated. She forces out a throaty reply, "I'll name my firstborn after you, just don't fucking stop."

It is strange at first because he has never done it, hasn't even thought about it, but there he is...or rather his tongue is, pleasuring the Slytherin witch. Pansy's whimpering and gasps only spur him on, pushing him to do better. He brings his hands on the witch's thighs, smoothing the skin. Pansy arches up, bringing them closer. One of Pansy's hands is still tangled in Neville's hair, but the other has started drawing mindless circles on her stomach, occasionally moving up to rub her nipple. She bends her legs and cries out as a finger enters her.

"Stop teasing me, you brute!" she orders, her eyes flashing dangerously. Neville rises to his knees and licks his lips. Pansy's eyes land between his legs and she smirks. Longbottom really is a diamond in the rough. She beckons the man closer. "Let's see what kind of skills that innocent face hides, shall we?"

Neville looks anything but innocent as he hooks his arms under Pansy's knees and yanks her closer with one smooth pull. He grins as he tips forward, capturing the witch's mouth in a kiss. They both shudder as Neville's cock rubs over her the girl's sensitive flesh.

Pansy's eyes darken and she nips at Neville's lip as he teases her by slowly inching inside. Her body hugs the rigid flesh plunging in and then pulling out, the velvety tightness gripping it. Her face is a canvas of expressions, her mouth open with a pink tongue trailing over the lower lip. A particularly hard thrust has Pansy sobbing with pleasure.

Neville feels a hot coil in his belly, a trail of fire down his back and a tightness in his thighs. It is glorious and exhausting. Pansy's nails drag marks down his arms as she takes every inch of Neville, nestling him inside and releasing him with slow tenderness. It is close to sweet torture, but seeing that heavenly expression on Pansy Parkinson's face makes it all worth it.

"Harder! Put your back into it, Gryff."

Neville laughs, out of breath, "Are you always so bossy?"

Lifting one leg to rest on the wizard's back, Pansy smirks. "High maintenance is the word generally used when discussing my nature. Now stop being tame and let me see what you lions are really made of."

"In that case," Neville says, thrusting into the witch with a new, faster tempo. He skims his fingers down to Pansy's wetness and rubs his thumb over it in the rhythm of his thrusts, heightening the sensation and tearing a wrecked cry out of the witch.

It makes Pansy shout out, her voice hoarse, "Yes, that's it—right there."

Neville drives deeper, trying to reach her very core with each thrust. The burn is intoxicating; the sheer heat of Pansy's inner walls is enough to have Neville hooked. The witch's face is so open and honest, everything is visible and she doesn't give a damn. Somewhere between talking, dancing and drinking, Neville has lost his previous prejudice and views her with new eyes. She is smart and sassy, with a wicked sense of humour and a sharp, stinging tongue. She is obnoxious, but her absolute rudeness and dismissive attitude is attractive—at least it is for Neville. She isn't like other girls Neville knows

He likes Pansy, despite being unsure of it at first, and now he feels fire licking at his insides as he moves inside her, bringing her closer to the edge. She appears wild; eyes screwed shut and her lip caught between her teeth. She constricts around the hard length buried inside, a hot judder going through her, and she clamps her legs together, holding Neville in place.

Neville heaves a low and throaty grunt as the tight fit pull his orgasm from him. His vision goes black and his ears start to buzz. The only sound in the room is their coupled breathing and panting. As Neville's brain comes back online and all systems start to work again, he rolls away from the pliant body underneath and throws his arm over his eyes. He is still breathing like he has just run a marathon.

Pansy nestles to his side and buries her head under Neville's arm, gently tapping the wizard's chest with her finger. "I approve."

"What? Do I get a sticker that says that? Tested by Pansy Parkinson."

She snorts and sluggishly drapes her leg over Neville's. "You will be happy to hear that I'm taking the contraceptive potion."

Neville snaps his head up and allows it to fall back with a thump as he takes in the piece of information. "Blimey, I completely forgot about that. Sorry."

"Did I or did I not just say that I'm on the potion? Relax, Gryff."

"It was irresponsible of me, that's all. And I'm fairly sure I didn't ask last night either."

"No, you did, but you certainly didn't wait around for the answer. I think I might have misjudged you, Longbottom. I don't say it often, but I think you're not so bad for a Gryffindor."

Neville chuckles, carding his fingers through Pansy's hair. "You're not so bad for a Slytherin. I think this qualifies as promoting unity between houses."

"We will almost certainly need to exercise this new and wonderful method of settling the differences between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"For the good relations between our houses."

Pansy smirks. "Of course. You are the Gryffindor ambassador of goodwill."

"So how about that coffee?"

"Let's reschedule, I'm knackered," says Pansy with a yawn.

Neville doesn't feel like moving either and grabs the edge of the duvet to cover them. He uses a wandless Tergeo. Pansy's breaths even out and Neville grins at the ceiling. This is also a very nice way to start one's morning.

ooo

In another bedroom, in a different manor, Sirius only likes lazy mornings; those blissful moments when he gets to wake up with his arms around his lover. Or wake up to sweet lips wrapped around his cock. Those are the best mornings, to be honest. Dragging his body out of bed to do the Dark Lord's bidding is absolute murder and he hates it. Slipping out from the covers, Sirius sighs miserably when he glances over his shoulder and watches Lucius sleep.

Then he showers and dresses, keeping his muttering to a minimum as he exits the insanely huge walk-in-closet. His side is three times smaller than the blond's side. Lucius has a lot of stuff and his pompous arse only has the best. Sirius doesn't mind; in truth, he loves how snotty Lucius is.

He plans to quietly exit the bedroom, but he is stopped by Lucius. The man is no longer asleep and now sits up in bed. He is still looking half-asleep as he mutters, "You are not as inconspicuous as you think, Siri."

The Animagus grins and forgets all about leaving. He climbs back on the bed and crawls over the wizard to get a kiss from him. Sirius smiles. "Didn't mean to wake you."

Lucius hums, "You were grumbling about stupid Dark Lords under your breath."

"He could have sent Bill a bloody owl. I have better things to do than play errand boy for him. Like enjoying a nice morning shag, followed by some strong coffee," Sirius says and moves to his feet. He makes a face that conveys his unhappiness. Leaving now seems so cruel, especially since Sirius knows for a fact that his lover is mostly naked under the covers. It's an injustice, a terrible unfairness, but he has to endure it.

Lucius props himself against the pillows. "Don't forget our dinner plans for tonight."

"Not bloody likely," Sirius curses. "Harry has been threatening me for the past few days, said he'll make me sit next to Snape if I give him any more crap about it."

Lucius holds back a smirk when he says, "It is important to your godson. As I understand, he hasn't had many happy holiday celebrations in his life. Is it so wrong of him to want one?"

Sirius lets out a groan and his shoulders slump a little. "Of course it's not wrong to want a happy Christmas."

"Then give him one. Stop making a fuss."

"Curse you for being right." Sirius sighs with no real fire.

"I am always right."

Sirius snorts. "You don't have to be so full of yourself. "

"Don't you have a Weasley to find?" Lucius asks.

Grinning, Sirius approaches the bed again. Looming over Lucius, he comments with a slight smirk, "You don't like Bill very much."

Tipping his head up, Lucius looks a bit miffed but he hides it well. "As one would expect. He is a Weasley."

"You don't like that I like Bill," Sirius comments with a slow smile. He enjoys the flicker of something similar to vehemence in silver eyes and tugs Lucius into a soft kiss. Sirius chuckles as he pulls away, enjoying the nearly blissful look that it leaves on the blond's face. "Your petulance is heartening, Luce."

"I don't know what you are talking about." Lucius sneers and gives Sirius a slight shove.

Sirius isn't bothered by the condescending tone. He knows better and decides that Lucius throwing a silent tantrum is actually rather entertaining.

"Sure you don't. I'll be going then," says Black before leaving the bedroom with an amused smile. Lucius doesn't stop him, but Sirius knows that after having his sulk, the man will seek him out and pretend that nothing ever happened. Sirius uses the fireplace in the drawing room to Floo over to Grimmauld Place. The old place is cold and dusty, but Kreacher has been doing the best he can to keep the house standing. After picking up a few items, Sirius leaves the house.

When Sirius strolls down the streets of Diagon Alley, people take notice. It is still early, some shops are still closed and there aren't many people about. Then again, a fair few see the infamous Sirius Black walking down the alley, wearing a carefree smile. He is an innocent wizard and it is within his rights to show up in Diagon and shop like a normal person. People still fear him a little but it is an involuntary response; after a few moments, everyone relaxes and gets back to their own business because Sirius doesn't display any signs of insanity and he's not cursing anyone.

The rebuilding of the joke shop is in full swing. Harry is an investor and a brother to the twins, so it is only natural that he wants to do this for Fred and George. Of course, Sirius himself wants to help. The twins remind him of his own youth and Sirius knows what it's like to hear discouraging remarks. His parents had made their disappointment perfectly clear.

The construction already started a few days ago but it is slow going. Some workers, plus the Weasley twins themselves, have managed to clean the rubbish and recover some items. Fred and George are not ones to sit on their arses and hide, so Sirius walks down the street to the place where the shop used to be.

Fred spots Sirius first, waving him over with a big infectious grin. Even though his dream is a pile of rocks and dust, Fred still feels pretty damn lucky. He's still alive and so is his brother—that sort of thing is enough to chase away gloomy thoughts.

"Take a break everyone!" Fred hollers over his shoulder and sends the builders away. George comes outside from the tent set up in the back, looking around for his twin.

Sirius snorts when a few of the crewmen look straight at him. They seem alarmed, thinking that the man is there to cause trouble. No one says anything; they just sip their coffee, knuckles white around the mug, and gaze elsewhere.

"You should have owled ahead," Fred says, walking over to Sirius.

"How's it going, making any progress?"

Fred claps his back and smirks. "We can always use an extra set of hands to help dig through this shite. We tried to use magic but it didn't really end well. We had some unstable potions in the backroom when everything blew up and it reacts with certain spells."

George, having reached the two, gives a smile. It is somewhat strained. "We're not making as much progress as we had hoped, but it's hard to find good workers who don't mind doing the work for free."

Sirius frowns. "You should have said something. I'd have helped pay for proper workers to clean this place up."

George winces and looks sheepish. "Harry already ripped our heads off. Called us idiots."

"The impudence!" Fred exclaims.

Sirius points out with a meaningful look. "You are idiots if you think you can keep something from Harry."

"Like you kept your relationship with Malfoy a secret and didn't tell him? How is that sexy Death Eater of yours anyway?"

Sirius grumbles. "Don't change the subject...and Luce is mine, so don't even think about it, Fred."

The redhead grins and offers Sirius a saucy wink. George whacks Fred's arm and goes on, "Bill has been helping out when he has time. He, too, said we were idiots for being out in the open like this. But we don't think the Order will try the same tactic twice since it didn't work out so well for them on the first try. We're not going to hide away."

Fred adds with a nod, "Yeah, this is our life. We won't let Mad-Eye and his thugs bully us."

"Good for you, boys," Sirius says. "Any chance finding Bill here?"

Fred looks around and shrugs. "He was here a minute ago, but I think he went to get us some breakfast."

"Breakfast is on Tommy today. I'm here to pick up Bill, but you should come as well. Harry would want you there."

George asks. "What's going on?"

"It's about your little git of a brother," Sirius states with a sneer. "He's going to receive his punishment."

"To be honest, we thought he was dead already. What with Granger turning up dead...and we know they were being held in the dungeons together," Fred speaks in a whisper, making sure no one is near enough to overhear them.

"Pup won't kill him," Sirius tells the boys. "Let's get your brother and you'll see. I had to drag my arse out of bed to get him, so he better be ready to go now. I should be enjoying my gorgeous boyfriend, instead of picking up you lot."

George grins as he asks. "The Dark Lord is sending you on missions like a proper Death Eater? What's the world coming to."

Fred matches his twin's grin.

Sirius groans. "Get yourselves sorted and meet me—where's Bill anyway?"

"Three shops down the streets; it's a bakery. We'll come find you."

Sirius makes his way towards the bakery and spots Bill inside, paying the storekeeper while juggling two paper bags. He decides to wait outside. The little bell makes a sound and Bill walks out with a content smile. He sees Sirius and his smile wanes. He asks. "Bloody hell, what happened now?"

"Why do you think something has happened? Seeing me doesn't automatically mean something is wrong."

Bill relaxes a bit. "Sorry, my nerves are completely shot. And in my defence, every time I've seen you lately, something is happening."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Again," Sirius smirks. Fred and George arrive just in time and Sirius goes on, "All right, let's go. I'll explain when we get there."

"Hang on," Bill raises his voice, eyes widening. "Something is going on, right? Am I about to be tortured?"

"No, of course not," Black muses but Bill doesn't seem reassured. So Sirius gives a vague explanation, "We're going to visit Harry. Pup wants to discuss something with you."

Before Bill can ask any more questions, Sirius grabs his arm and does the same with Fred and George. With a faint pop, they are all gone.

The group reappears in the Dark Lord's manor. Fred and George yank the bag of baked goods from Bill's hands and disappear around the corner. Bill takes one look around and grumbles to himself. He is in Voldemort's house again. It is getting bloody annoying. Sirius only offers a wink before following the twins. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bill counts to ten and then walks after Sirius. He ends up in the dining room and doesn't see Sirius.

The dining room, however, is not empty. On the contrary, it is packed. Bill is greeted by familiar faces and not so familiar ones. He recognises Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood, the girl sitting next to the wizard and eating treacle tart for breakfast. Then he spots his own brothers, already digging into the fruit tray with steaming mugs in front of them.

While he stands in the doorway, a few people pass him. A girl with brown hair is pulling a wizard by the hand. Bill recognises Neville Longbottom. Then another familiar face shows up. It is Snape. He takes one look at the table filled with a bunch of messy teenagers and flees, his robes billowing behind him like the menacing wings of a bat.

"What is it with you and doorways, Weasley."

Bill turns and comes face to face with Rabastan Lestrange. The man is wearing a bored expression, but there is something else there as well. A certain irritation.

"It's a shame there wasn't any mistletoe hanging in the doorway," comes from Lovegood and Bill is quick to look up. He feels his cheeks go warm at the girl's insinuation. Sirius arrives in time to give Bill a nudge. Rabastan enters the dining room, picks an apple from the bowl and a croissant from the basket and then he stalks out again.

It is completely weird and it messes with Bill's mind; he isn't sure if he likes it or not. He observes the table.

"Oi, pass the cheese." Fred reaches out his hand, making grabbing motions.

Draco sneers at the redhead. "Get it yourself, Weasel."

Fred tries again, batting his eyes at the blond girl. "Luna love, can you please pass the cheese?"

Draco snaps back, his voice rising. "It's right there, in front of your face! Get it yourself."

"No need to be so hostile, Draco. Fred just wanted a piece of cheese; he didn't ask for a threesome. Besides, that's butter, you nitwit. There's the cheese." Pansy rolls her eyes.

Draco gives a clipped reply, "How should I know which is which? They look exactly the same. Don't be a cow, Pans."

Pansy clucks her tongue and pierces the blond with a glare. "Don't be a poncy arsehole, Dray."

Sirius groans, unimpressed and annoyed. "Merlin, you're all giving me a headache. I didn't break out from Azkaban to deal with whiny brats."

Then George gives a low whistle and asks with a grin, "Neville, is that a hickey?"

Longbottom touches his neck and clears his throat. "Mind your own business, George."

"That's definitely a hickey. Look at the size of that. Did you have a run in with a leech or what?" George snickers.

Draco smirks snootily. "Leave the poor Gryffindor alone."

"What's that supposed to mean? You make it sound as if being a Gryffindor is a disease or that we're complete morons." Neville shifts in his seat, looking put out.

Fred turns towards the blond. "Yeah, what gives, Draco? We're also Gryffindors and that's insulting."

Sirius leans back in his chair with a smug smirk on his face. "I'm a Gryffindor and I was always covered in hickeys. I was a very popular guy in Hogwarts."

Draco lets out a groan. "No one wants to hear about it, Sirius."

"I want to hear about it," Fred perks up.

Shooting a narrowed look at the redhead, Draco grits out, "Eat your cheese, Fred."

Fred doesn't listen and goes on, "Do you give Lucius hickeys? I bet he looks even hotter with love-bites."

Draco clambers up from his seat. "For the love of Merlin, all of you stop talking about hickeys! Weasley, you will refrain from making such inquiries in the future or I'll hex your bollocks off."

Sirius chuckles. "Draco, that was mean of you. Look at him, he's afraid for his balls now."

"You know what, I think I'll have breakfast in peace without a bunch of lions. And I'm taking the cheese! Luna, want to join me?" Draco reaches out for the cheese plate, but Pansy slaps his hand.

"Draco Malfoy, put down the cheese and stop making such a spectacle. Honestly, you're acting like a complete twit."

Snorting, Draco jeers, "Pans, are you using your serious voice on me? You know it doesn't work on me, stop trying to—"

Pansy turns to the blonde witch and smiles. "Luna, did you know that Draco used to—what the hell was that for! It's in my hair. Did you really just threw treacle tart at me, you absolute monster!"

Draco shrugs, placing the spoon down. "My hand must have slipped."

Luna touches Draco's arm, saying, "Draco, that wasn't very nice of you. You should apologise to Pansy."

"What? But she—" Draco splutters.

Luna's smile slips a bit and she says again, her tone growing colder. "Draco, I want you to apologise."

Fred whispers to no one in particular, "Is Luna using voice magic? That's brilliant."

Bill Weasley cannot stop staring with his mouth falling open; he certainly can't understand what he is seeing. They really are children, bickering and fighting like a bunch of brats. This is the Dark Lord's home, right? So how come that's even allowed? A laugh from behind catches Bill's attention and he turns.

Harry is standing in the doorway, wearing a large grin. "Yes, this is the terrifying Dark side, squabbling over cheese and hickeys and throwing food."

"Harry!" Fred and George both cry out in unison.

Harry pats Bill on the back and sighs, "You'll get used to it; should you wish to, that is."

The green-eyed wizard takes a seat next to Fred. He motions Bill to join them. Sitting down, the girl with brown hair eyes him and cocks her head to the side as she opens her mouth, "Another one? How many Weasleys are there?"

"Plenty to go around. Why, you interested?" George wiggles his brows.

The witch offers George a sneer. "Are you interested in getting your head flushed down the toilet?"

Fred snickers and gets kicked in the shin by his twin. Harry takes a sip of pumpkin juice. He says to Bill, "There's something I want to talk about. Did Siri explain why you were asked to come here?"

"I wasn't asked; I was just taken along for the ride. Sirius said you had something to discuss, but he didn't go into detail."

Harry gets up and tells Bill to follow. He doesn't want everyone to hear this part. They move to stand in the hallway.

"Well, it's about Ron," Harry tells the redhead, waiting for Bill's reaction.

"I sort of figured you'd want to talk about him...with Granger's dead body suddenly turning up. I only ask that you let him keep his life."

"I know and I did promise to let him live, but I have chosen a suitable punishment for him. I know he's your little brother and you care for him, but I owe him no kindness. I will understand if you choose to hate me for what I'm about to do."

Bill cares for Ron, that's true; they are brothers. But Ron is a selfish little git, unhappy with what he had—a family and a good friend in Harry. He made a choice and it had been a selfish one; he had turned his back on Harry and had sided with Dumbledore. He had spied on Harry and he had taken Harry's money; he had even spread lies about the green-eyed wizard. Ron deserves whatever Harry has planned, and if in the end, Ron is allowed to live—well, Bill knows that the Dark Lord does not show mercy, so it is a big deal in Bill's view.

"I won't hate you, Harry."

"Even if I tell you that I plan to take away his magic and basically leave him a Squib?"

Bill's eyes widen a bit. It is indeed a cruel punishment, a wizard's worst nightmare, but at least Ron will be able to change his future. He will be alive. "Even then I won't hate you. I know you're only doing this because I asked, Harry... and I am grateful for it. You're my brother as well and Ron brought this on himself. I can't help him any more than he wants to be helped."

"There's another thing I wanted to talk about; it concerns your mum and dad." Harry doesn't find it easy to speak of it because he likes Bill and wants him to be a part of the future. He wants Bill's support and friendship. He is talking about the man's family and their chances of survival. "It's up to you to get your mum and dad to stop fighting us. I don't want you or the twins to lose your parents, but it will happen if they keep up this ridiculous fight. I'm giving you a heads-up because when we take down the Order, and your mum and dad are with them, I can't promise that they'll live through it. I won't save them if they themselves insist on putting their lives at stake. Talk to them, or take them out of the country. I really don't care. I will not tell you this again, Bill. It's not something the Dark Lord grants very often, but I asked this of him because I don't want my friends to suffer."

Bill can't find a single reason to feel angry. It has been on his mind lately, the weight of it makes his head hurt. "I think Dad sees that there is nothing to fight for anymore. He suspects that the Ministry has been infiltrated, but then again, he doesn't have anything bad to say about the Ministry. Everything is better than it used to be and I think he sees that; and even if he doesn't want to admit it, he knows that the Light has lost. My mum—well, she's hell-bent on fighting alongside the Order. She has never doubted Dumbledore, not even when Ginny died. I don't think she'll back down; if anything, she'd rather die than accept Voldemort as the victor."

"Perhaps Arthur can be convinced to stand down. He would have the rest of his life to enjoy if he does. Like I said, it's up to you."

Bill nods. He asks, "When will you take Ron's magic?"

"As soon as Severus is done tweaking the spell. It will block Ron's magic, so strictly speaking, he won't lose it. He just won't be able to access it. I won't be telling him that and neither will you."

"I think telling him would make him feel even worse, so I won't tell him that he has it but won't be able to use it," Bill states with a heavy heart. "Can I see him before you do the spell? He needs to know that I won't be stopping it. He has to grow up and realise that his actions have consequences. That he can't always hide under Mum's skirt."

"If you wish to see him, I can have someone escort you into the cellar. But I'm giving you a heads-up; it's not a pretty sight."

ooo

Ron is a mess, but he is still a stubborn git and spits on the floor when a small delegation of wizards arrives. Severus only raises a brow and looks Ron over with a dark look that speaks of unbridled glee. As a teacher, Snape considers Weasley to be an ignorant and lazy nitwit. But as a wizard, he considers the youngest Weasley boy a travesty. Ronald knows nothing of loyalty or honour; he is a lousy friend and a lousy wizard.

Bill stands in the back. After speaking with Harry some more, he had agreed to collect his brother in a few days and take him home. Ron is going to be bound to secrecy and he won't be able to speak of what had happened to him or who had done it. He will remember his stay in the dungeons and he will remember the pain, the humiliation, the reason why he has no magic. He just can't speak of it to anyone.

McNair and Crabbe haul Ron to his feet and drag the kicking redhead out of his dirty dwelling. Harry walks down the stairs with Tom and he notices Bill standing in the shadows.

Seeing Harry makes Ron scream out, "You bastard! You'll pay for this, Potter! You'll all pay for doing this to me! You're a freak!"

"A truly delightful young wizard." Severus drawls. He keeps his keen eyes on Harry and the Dark Lord; both choose to stay in the shadows for now as well.

Ronald turns his ire towards Snape. "You're a fucking traitor, Snape! A slimy snake."

Snape looks unmoved; he only quirks a brow at the teen's rant. It's not like he cares for the words of a spineless worm. Besides, he had betrayed Dumbledore and had enjoyed every moment of it.

Harry starts laughing. He laughs and laughs, circling Ronald like a stalking panther. He moves to stand behind him and tips forward to hiss in the redhead's ear, "Pathetic. Is that the best you can come up with? Calling me a freak? Calling Severus a traitor? That's really pitiable, Ron. Work on your material."

"You're the pathetic one here, Potter!"

Crabbe slams his knee into Ron's back and Harry smirked as the redhead topples over with a loud scream. The green-eyed wizard walks around Ron and says, "What makes you think that, Ronald? What do you know of me, of my life? Nothing. You don't know anything, do you?"

"I know you're a sick queer."

Harry snorts. "Did you hear that from Mad-Eye, the resident hater of all things different? Come now, Ron, you can do better than that. What else do you think you know about me?"

"I know you're dark scum, siding with these bastards," Ron sneers out and adds with a sneering leer, "Do you suck their cocks too? I bet they pass you around. You're only ever going to be good for that, freak! A Death Eater whore. Do you let Snape fuck you? How about the Ferret? Or maybe you bend over for his daddy dearest? You're used up anyway."

Harry's eyes flash. It is subtle and almost undetectable, but Severus sees it. He sees that Harry wants to kill the little rat with his bare hands, but is restraining himself for Bill's sake.

"Why else would they put up with you? You're a useless slut, Potter. Just a worthless cock-sucker for Death Eaters to play with."

Severus notices it before anyone else, but he doesn't even try to say anything or intervene. The redheaded cretin deserves it. Tom walks out of the shadows, his magic practically vibrating. He looks ready to snap Weasley's neck like a twig. Even an idiot like Ron senses that this wizard is pure danger; he is not someone you want to ever meet. Tom comes to stand by Harry's side and presses his hand against Harry's back. It is a gesture to show Harry that he is there and with him.

The Dark Lord presses the tip of his wand under Weasley's chin and applies just enough pressure to cause pain. The redhead glares up at him, but he is wisely keeping his mouth shut.

"Have you ever felt pain? True pain that makes your heart stop and your lungs close up. It makes you want to scratch your skin raw and bloody. Do you want to know what it feels like to be in such terrible, endless pain that you would rather die than suffer through it?

Tom gives Crabbe and McNair a small nod and they both take a step back. Before Ron can even react, Tom hisses, "Crucio."

Ron's body slides to the floor, twitching and shaking. He is unable to breathe or make a sound. His fingers claw at his chest, twisting and bending his limbs at odd angles. He starts to turn a little purple, but Tom keeps the curse on him. Harry watches with detached eyes. When Ron looks ready to pass out, Tom lifts the curse. "Shall I continue?"

The redhead violently shakes his head. He raises his head and stares straight at Bill. His face is set in a disbelieving scowl, but he can't speak. He can't call out for his brother.

"Crucio."

It happens again. Twitching, scratching, bending, twisting and Ron's face turning into a rather fetching colour of mauve. Only this time, Ron soils himself. Tom sneers at that and removes the curse. Harry looks completely dispassionate, but there is something else there as well. It is the final piece falling away. Harry no longer cares if Ron dies, not even after promising Bill that he will live. The promise is slipping away. Bill, too has noticed it and he walks out of the dark, not sparing a glance at his brother. He is ready to stop Harry should there be a need for it. A single moment in time and Ron would be dead, but it doesn't happen.

Severus is never glad to see Black, but now he is thankful for his timely arrival. The Animagus saunters down the staircase, groaning about the filth and stale smell. He glances at Bill, but he doesn't care for the boy on the floor and throws his arm around Harry. He mutters, "Cissy wants to talks about the Christmas dinner. She's not happy with the average menu—her words, not mine—but I said you need to look it over because it was your idea in the first place."

Harry blinks, the haze of violence disappearing from his eyes; and just like that, he is back to normal. The dull edge has faded away. "I don't want to eat duck."

"You need to tell her that because if you two don't resolve this, we'll be having sandwiches and crisps," Sirius says and adds with a grin. "I have something to show you, an early Christmas present."

"Sounds mysterious." Harry smiles and gives Tom a fond look. "Don't kill him, but feel free to maim him. Dinner is at seven, so don't be late."

As the two Gryffindors leave, Severus releases the breath he has been holding. Weasley is still twisting in pain, but the Dark Lord is far from being done. Now that Harry is no longer there, Tom plans to break the boy before taking his magic. Bill lets out a deep sigh and walks away; he can't watch the torture.

McNair yanks the boy up by the scruff and holds him upright while Tom bends down to eye level. "You spoke ill of Harry and for that, I will show you more pain than you can take. I will break you, little Weasley. I will show you horrors one can't even imagine."

Ron sputters out blood and snaps, "Why'd you care? Potter's just a whore."

"No, Harry is mine and you are not worthy to speak his name. You will live, but I intend to break every bone in your body."

"He must be a first-rate cock-sucker."

Severus sighs and watches as the Dark Lord smirks like a ferocious beast before breaking Weasley's arm. It is visibly bent out of shape and Snape wants to laugh. It truly amuses him to see the brat digging his own grave. Now Tom is going to have him bury himself in it. Ronald Weasley will survive this and there will be some life left in him, but he will never forget it.

Tom enjoys it immensely and he makes sure Weasley knows it as well. He notes, right before breaking his fingers, "I hope you take this as a lesson in humility. You disrespected my husband and I cannot allow such behaviour. What sort of Dark Lord would I be if I allowed an insignificant pest to besmirch my husband's honour?"

Ron swallows. He realises that this wizard is Voldemort. The terrible, horrid Dark Lord who wants to conquer the wizarding world. It finally reaches his brain—Potter is married to Voldemort! It's so fucking twisted.

The cracking of bones echoes in the dank cellar, as do Tom's dark and delighted chuckles. For the next hour, Ron screams himself raw while thrashing on the cold stone floor of the cellar. Leaving him twitching, Tom turns to Severus and says, "It is a rather clever idea you and Lucius have come up with. Harry was most pleased."

Severus offers a curt nod. It's good to be praised.

Tom points his wand at the redhead and starts chanting the spell. The tip of the Dark Lord's wand starts glowing and the faint stream of light blue emitting from it starts to cloak the red-haired wizard on the floor. It goes on for a few minutes before disappearing and wrapping around Weasley like glowing ropes. The magical cords sink into Ron and pulse on his skin for one final time before vanishing. Crabbe yanks Ron up to his knees and Tom peers at the barely conscious teen. "The binding is in place."

Severus knows that the spell is perfect, but it is still nice to hear that it has worked.

"I'll leave you to tidy up, Severus. I'm afraid I'm running late to a meeting," says Tom, pocketing his wand. "I expect to see you at dinner, Severus."

"I am in no position to decline, my Lord."

Tom only laughs and ignores Snape's acerbic tone. Harry will drag the wizard kicking and screaming. He will make him sit next to Black as punishment should he try to get out of this family dinner. Tom himself has his doubts, but Harry is eager and what the green-eyed wizard wants Tom happily provides.

He casts one last look at the teen on the floor and says, "It is a pity I cannot string you up by your own intestines. I would love nothing more than to see you die. Be very grateful to my husband, Weasley."

Tom gives a nod to the Death Eaters and the message is clear. Ronald must not enjoy his stay in the cellar.

ooo

Harry watches the elves setting up the dining room in preparation for the big Christmas dinner. The table is long and Harry counts at least 12 chairs around it. One elf is busy cleaning while another is decorating. Sometimes it still surprises Harry how much the elves love their work and how much it fills them with pride.

That's how Sirius finds him; dully eying the busy elves by the window. The Animagus calls Harry over and motions for him to follow. Then they Disapparate to Malfoy Manor and Sirius takes them to the sitting room. The young wizard moves to a sit on the sofa, drawing his legs up. Sirius slumps next to him and stretches his arm on the back of the sofa.

"What's on your mind, Pup?"

Harry blinks and shrugs a little. "Nothing really. Just something stupid Ron said."

"What did that little snot say?" Sirius raises a brow.

"I know Tom loves me, and whatever Ron Weasley thinks shouldn't matter, but he made me doubt myself. He made me—I wish I could kill him."

"What the hell did he say to you, Harry?" asks Sirius. He is getting worked up over it, the weird look in Harry's eyes only adds to it.

"Called me a pathetic freak, a sick queer and said that I'm only good enough to use as a whore and that the Death Eaters probably pass me around because I'm just a slut. Asked me if I let Severus fuck me or Draco or Lucius."

Sirius jumps to his feet, fists balled. "I'm going to kill that little bastard."

Before the man has a chance to storm out, Harry stops him. He grabs the wizard by the arm and holds him in place. "Sit down before you hurt yourself. There's no need to get worked up, Siri."

Black huffs, his body still tense and ready to snap. "There's every need!"

Harry sighs and tugs at the man's arm, forcing him to sit down again. "Tom's taking care of it. Do you think Ron is having a good time with the Dark Lord?"

"At least he's going to be very sore in the morning. Despite being a massive twat, Tommy loves you."

"Exactly," Harry smirks. "Ron just bought himself a ticket to an exclusive torture session with Voldemort. And when he's nicely broken, Tom's going to bind his magic and Ron will just be a pitiful weasel with no magic and a questionable future. Whatever slurs he can think up to throw in my face won't make a difference because I've won."

"Do I need to worry about you turning evil?" Sirius asks, raising a brow. "It's a great plan, don't get me wrong, but you weren't this vindictive before you met Tommy."

Harry shrugs. "You didn't know me before. I haven't changed all that much, to be honest. I guess now I'm finally free to act accordingly."

"Had I not been sent to Azkaban, things would have been different for sure. James wanted me to be your godfather and even though your mum wasn't sure at first, she agreed. I may have been a juvenile delinquent and reckless, but I'm a Black and we take care of our family, and you are my family."

Harry smiles and says, "You're still a delinquent."

Sirius reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out a small book. He enlarges it and hands it to Harry. It is a dark brown, leather-bound album. "I wanted to give you this for your birthday, but I couldn't finish it until now."

Harry takes the album and opens it. He offers Sirius a watery smile. "You put this together for me?"

Sirius nods. "It belonged to me before I was sent to rot in prison, but it's yours now. I should have been there, Harry; all of us should have been there."

Turning the first pages, Harry sees pictures of a dark-haired baby sleeping in blankets. Another picture shows baby Harry sitting on his mother's lap, stuffing a rattle into his mouth. There are at least a dozen more—all showing Harry as a baby, nearly ready to start crawling. The next pages are various photographs of James, Lily and Sirius. Some are school pictures and others have been taken after graduation, but one thing is constant. The people on the photographs are all smiling; they all seem light-hearted and happy. It tugs at Harry's heart, but he quickly swallows the lump clogging his throat. "This is perfect, Siri."

"I tried to warn James," Sirius mutters in a defeated tone. "I told him not to trust Dumbledore, told him to stay away from it all. I would have tried to recruit James without Dumbledore's influence, but he and Lily trusted that goat more than anyone, more than me."

Harry closes the album and faces Sirius. Seeing the guilt on his face, Harry says, "It's not your fault that they chose to trust Dumbledore. You didn't know that Pettigrew was going to betray them. You did everything you could to protect your friends. There is no one to blame for that. You did all you could."

"I didn't do enough."

"You did what you could without compromising yourself."

Sirius looks away, absentmindedly picking at his cuff. He does feel guilty and will probably always feel guilt over it. Harry moves closer and huddles against the wizard's side. "What matters now is that you're here, looking after me as my parents wanted you to."

Throwing his arm around Harry, Sirius exhales heavily. "I'm sorry for being so difficult."

Harry snorts.

"No, really," Sirius states firmly. "I was told to stop ruing your Christmas because not everything is about me."

Harry starts laughing.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Sirius grumbles.

"I'm not laughing at you," Harry tells the Animagus. He points out with a grin, "I just think it's great that you're not on your own. It's an additional benefit that I actually like Lucius."

"Sometimes I'm not even sure if I like him," Sirius comments.

Harry hums under his breath, agreeing with the wizard. They sit in silence for a little while until the green-eyed wizard asks, "Do you think they'll forgive me for loving Tom?"

Sirius is stumped for a moment but then he considers it. "Honestly? I'm not sure, but Tommy was insane and unstable when he came after you. Now he's saner than I have ever seen him. He's not even the same wizard anymore, right?"

Harry sits up straight, his face set in a worried expression as he takes the album. He flicks it open again and stares at the picture of James and Lily sitting on the floor in front of a sofa, with little Harry on all fours, trying to move forward but failing and falling on his bum. His family ... before the unthinkable had happened.

Sirius sees the sadness in Harry's eyes. "What's on your mind?"

"I don't feel like I'm doing something wrong by being with Tom, even though I think I should. Tom didn't kill my parents—Voldemort did, and he's gone now. The wizard I married can feel remorse, and he does regret taking my family from me," Harry explains, trying to get Sirius to understand. He shakes his head a little and goes on, "I'm not an idiot; I know that they are one and the same, but Tom is the wizard Voldemort was before he lost his mind; before he did all those horrible things and before he went mad. This version of Tom has a soul; he did not kill my parents."

"I see what you mean, Pup." Sirius sighs and bumps shoulders with Harry. "He's still a huge prat with a serious control complex but he takes care of you, and although I want to kick him in the bollocks, I respect him for loving you. And now I'd like to kick myself in the bollocks for admitting it out loud."

Harry cracks a smile.

"The point I was trying to make is that when he's with you, he's not a homicidal madman. I have no doubt that without you, he would be exactly like the old Voldemort, if not worse. You make him a better man, Pup. That's all on you."

"You think so?"

"I know so," the Animagus intones. "Trust me. Even Luce thinks Tommy has lost the stick in his arse. You'll never hear him say it though."

"I'm trying to teach him a few things about loyalty and respect. He no longer needs fear to keep the Death Eaters loyal, but he's used to it; it's hard for him to accept it. Take Lucius for example. He has been a Death Eater for two decades and has devoted himself to Tom. Even after he went round the bend, Lucius still stayed and suffered through it, and for the past few years, Tom has treated him more like an advisor than a servant. He might even think of him as a friend, even if he doesn't like admitting it."

"Whatever you're doing, just keep doing it because it is working."

Harry smiles with approval and says, "You know, I hope he's down in the dungeons, beating the shite out of Ron."

"I would be happy to join him," Sirius half-growls, his eyes darkening like an upcoming storm. "The boy must take after his mother because Arthur is a decent bloke. Completely under Molly's thumb, but he can be reasoned with. That bitch wife of his—well, I've never wanted to hit a woman as badly as I want to smack her around."

"I imagine she'd turn any man off women for life with her nagging and screeching."

"Snape wanted to poison her once. It was one of those blasted Order meetings at Grimmauld and she insisted on cooking, pissing off Kreacher in the process, and Snape was there giving his report on Death Eater activity. The Weasley woman was rattling on about evil abominations, dark scum and how they all deserve to hang."

Harry snorts. That kind of talk will get you poisoned pretty fast. Harry asks, "Seeing as she is still alive, Sev must have held back."

"But he wanted to, you could practically see him grinding his teeth in agony. Molly was going on and on about the Light and how the sun shines out of Dumbledore arse, making snide remarks about my lack of interest in fighting against Voldemort's dark plague."

"She does seem to have tunnel vision," Harry points out. "She was nice enough to make me believe her sincerity but, in truth, it was all an act. She only saw a pawn in me and Ron saw me as a walking piggy bank he could latch on and use. He never wanted to be my friend; as soon as he saw my scar, he saw fame and fortune. A chance to be someone other than another unfortunate member of the Weasley brood."

Sirius knows that Harry feels a deep-seated loathing for the Weasley family, naturally leaving aside the twins and Bill. Harry detests being lied to; it is probably the one thing Sirius knows for certain about his godson. Dumbledore had kept up with the lies until his death. Sirius is glad that the old fuck is already dead because that way he doesn't have to hunt him down and practice every torture curse he knows. Dumbledore is out of the picture and resting uncomfortably until he is good and ready for his last trip down to the burning pits of hell.

Harry has had so little control over his life and Dumbledore had taken away the last of it when the boy had entered the ancient castle. It is one of Sirius' biggest regrets; not being there for Harry. He shouldn't have gone after that snivelling rat after discovering what had happened to the Potters. It had been a stupid impulse; a decision forged in rage and pain. Ultimately, it had cost him dearly. Twelve years of Harry's life—twelve years of freedom and some sanity added into the mix; that is the price he had paid for being a reckless, anger-driven Gryffindor with little sense and plenty of dark curses to help him get revenge.

"You've gone quiet on me."

Sirius clears his head. Thinking about the past is pointless and requires too much energy. He manages a weak smile as he says, "Got lost in some bad memories, that's all."

"That's why we're making new ones; better memories for all of us."

"When I escaped, I could hardly believe that the sky above me was real, not a comforting memory to keep me sane. The first moment I felt the clean air, the coolness of it, the taste of it—I fell to my knees and cried. I didn't shed a tear when they hauled me into the cell and threw away the key. I didn't even cry when I found out about James and Lily being dead, but I bawled like a baby when I finally reached firm ground and touched the grass and saw the rock fortress behind me, standing far in the crashing waves."

Listening keenly, Harry blinks and forces down the tightness in his throat. The man's face is taut with pain, but there is also a lightness about him; it is like a bittersweet afterthought.

Sirius sighs and goes on, "Eventually, I found you and then I was furious. Twelve years suddenly had a solid shape; it hit me like a ton of bricks because I saw you and you weren't a baby anymore. I knew I couldn't just walk up to you and tell you who I was; I didn't even know if you knew me at all so I couldn't risk it, even if I wanted to."

"Mass-murdering maniac, a deranged killer, an insane psychopath—they painted a rather vivid picture, making sure that I would hate you. Although Dumbledore was clever; he kept his hands clean by keeping his mouth shut. He didn't want to implicate himself."

"But you never believed any of it." Sirius smiles fondly, proud of the fact that Harry is so sharp and had not been easily fooled by the Order.

Harry grins. "Would you believe me if I said it was Severus who told me not to pay attention to whatever was being said about you? Because he did. He told me the story how you had betrayed my parents and how you were convicted for killing Muggles and poor Peter Pettigrew—and after telling me all that, he said that only an idiot would believe it."

Sirius grimaces and falls back against the sofa cushions. He looks like Harry has forced something nasty down his throat. "Snivellus defending me? It's a joke, right?"

"He despises you, of that, I have no doubt. But he didn't believe that you had actually sold out my parents. Knowing now that you were both working for Tom, I can't say that it surprises me, but back then when I didn't know about your true loyalty, I really was shocked to hear him defend you. I knew he didn't like you very much; it was obvious in the way he drawled out the name Black like it was the vilest thing one could force him to utter."

"You know, I can't actually remember why we started hating each other. I guess it was hate at first sight. I instantly knew that he was a greasy, snarky git and I loathed him from the moment I saw him get sorted into Slytherin—the house of smug rich kids and evil little trolls."

"I think he'll say the same about you." Harry gives Sirius a pointed stare. "And for the record, it's a tad bit hypocritical of you to make it sound as if getting sorted into Slytherin is the worst thing that can happen to a child. All your family has been in Slytherin and you are in a relationship with a former Slytherin."

Sirius gives a snort. "Yes, and he's that smug rich kid with a silver spoon up his posh arse."

"I have never fully understood the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. I realise that some snakes are a bunch of pure-blood jerks with bad tempers and pride, but it's not like that the lions are any better. Loud-mouthed, rude and some have shite for brains—not something to be proud of."

"It certainly has changed since I was there," says the Animagus, "because back in my day, Slytherins were evil and Gryffindors were valiant and great on their brooms."

"Are you saying Slytherins aren't great on their brooms?" Harry asks.

"Are you even talking about Quidditch?" Sirius counters with a raised brow.

Harry snickers and says "I am if you actually referred to Quidditch when you said Gryffindors were great with their brooms."

"Both on and off the Quidditch pitch."

"The sexual prowess of Gryffindors is something I am not familiar with, but I can tell you that some Slytherins are brilliant with their brooms. A certain Slytherin I'm intimately acquainted with."

Making a disgusted sound, Sirius groans.

Harry starts laughing in earnest and tells the wizard, "Need I remind you that you were the one who started it."

"I guess some Gryffindors can get along with Slytherins," Sirius concedes with a small frown but he is quick to add, "but I can only handle one. I refuse to acknowledge any good qualities in other snakes."

"Trust me," Harry quips, "they won't acknowledge your charms either. Lucius is the only Slytherin who actually wants to handle you or be handled by you for that matter. Which makes my life easier because it means I don't have to keep you out of trouble."

"You make me sound like a bothersome puppy who chews on boots and pisses on the carpet."

Harry smirks, seeing the grouchy expression on the wizard's face, but he remains silent. He takes the album and tucks it under his arm. Harry stands and gives Sirius a smile. "I think I'm mentally prepared to face Narcissa and put my foot down without agreeing to everything she says. Sometimes she just gives me that warm smile and I just agree with everything she wants."

"She used to manipulate people with it," Sirius tells the younger wizard, remembering their childhood and teenage years, "but once you've been exposed to it for too long, you become immune. However, you are susceptible. Avoid eye contact."

"She's not going to lure me in like a siren."

Sirius levels Harry with a look. "Well, if you want to eat duck for dinner..."

"Avoiding eye-contact," Harry quickly surmises, "sounds like a great plan."

"The other day, she gave Snivellus that look and he almost walked face-first into the doorframe. Thankfully, he didn't because he can't afford to break his nose."

Harry sighs. "You're never going to stop with the petty insults and childish fights, are you?"

It isn't a question that requires an answer because Harry already knows what it will be. It is the same with Severus, who will keep up with the hostility until his dying breath. Perhaps even in the afterlife.

"I promise to be on my best behaviour tonight," Sirius says and Harry actually believes him, though he is sensible enough to know that it is near impossible for the two wizards to sit behind the same table and not make spiteful comments or send barbs back and forth.

Harry is allowed to hope and he does because Tom will be there and he will have no problem with cursing both men mute. "All right. Promise me that you will try your best and I will be content."

"I promise to be a good boy and play nice with the other children." Sirius has his hand over his heart and all. And he lookssincere. Harry knows that Sirius will try and even if he fails, at least he had meant well. Harry's happiness is a priority for Sirius, and it enfolds Harry's heart in a ball of warmth to know that he is loved and cared for by his godfather.