Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, except Ethan and Lana, but they're sort of based on real people, so I guess they own themselves. Oh, and I own Annabella.

A quarter of an hour later, Ethan and Lana were sitting on the couch, making small talk, each with half an ear on the baby monitor.

Lana sipped her Coke. "What did you say in that message about your mom saying the kids look like their parents?"

"She said," Ethan replied, "that Henry looks exactly like me."

Lana inclined her head and peered at Ethan intently. "Yes, I suppose he does. Same electric blue eyes, same light brown hair –"

"Actually," Ethan laughingly interrupted, "I think she was talking about when I was a tiny little baby."

"Oh, well," Lana said, a little uncomfortably, "I'm sure you had blue eyes and brown hair then, too. . . ." She felt herself blush as she trailed off.

Ethan wasn't listening, however. He was thinking. "If Henry looks like me, who dopes Ian look like? I mean, no one in my family has black hair or black eyes, so it must come from your side?"

Lana nodded. "Well, yes, my natural hair color is black."

Ethan looked at her long platinum blonde tresses with interest. "Wow. You must have an amazing stylist. I've never seen you with dark roots!"

Lana didn't realize she'd already said too much. Shaking her head, she replied, "I don't go to a stylist."

"So do you dye it yourself, or is it a wig?"

Lana shook her head again. Don't say it, Lana. Think of your secret! "Actually, I'm a metamo—" Lana stopped abruptly. She finally realized she'd said too much.

"What?"

"I use . . . uh . . . Metabolize. It helps . . . the roots."

Ethan was pretty sure that she hadn't meant to say Metabolize at first, but he let it go, steering the conversation to a mutual acquaintance of theirs.

Lana, grateful, eagerly responded, and soon neither of them was thinking about Lana's hair anymore.

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"Annabella!" Mrs. Black called, "this room still needs tidying, and the elf certainly can't do it! She's cooking!"

"Coming, Mistress," Annabella called as she walked towards the dining room, and the Mistress's voice.

"Hurry up, you lazy wench!" called the imperious voice once amore, "honestly! With what I pay that girl . . ."

Annabella thought she wasn't paid nearly enough; however, she knew enough to keep her mouth shut. She hastened to the dining room just as Mrs. Black was opening her mouth to call her again. The look of impatience on Mrs. Black's face quickly changed to surprise – and then to horror. She didn't even close her mouth before giving Annabella a rather fierce tongue-lashing. "What," she spat, "were you thinking, bringing that . . . that . . . that THING into this house! That's muggle make, I'll have you know, and I'll not have it contaminating my house!"

"But, mistress," Annabella timidly replied, "it was on the front doorstep. And there's a baby inside. If he were a muggle . . ."

She lets the end of her statement hang.

"A babe," said Mrs. Black, her face impossible to read. "Bring him here."

Annabella handed the car seat to her willingly. "Hmmmm . . . I think I will keep him. Marie so needs a younger brother. What think you I should call him?"

"I don't know, Mistress," Annabella murmured politely, as she rummaged around in her pockets for her wand.

"Sirius," murmured Mrs. Black. "That's a grand-sounding name."

Annabella, magically scouring the ceiling, was no longer paying attention.

"Sirius Black . . ."

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December 26, 1995

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

Harry absently fingered the Black family tapestry. His middle finger was too large to fit through the hole that had once been Sirius, he noticed disinterestedly. His fingers brushed a clump of dirt, which fell off the tapestry. Harry leaned forward with interest.

There was another family underneath! Here was Marie Black, married to Nicholas Bramham, and a line down to their daughter, one Lana Bramham. "1981 . . . She's about Ginny's age!" Harry murmured.

"What's this about me?" Ginny demanded, walking towards Harry – and the tapestry – from the stairs.

"Oh, nothing," Harry began, but as he wilted under the glare Ginny shot at him, he began again. "Do you know this girl? Is she at Hogwarts?" Harry gestured to Lana's name.

"Lana Bramham . . ." Ginny read. "She's in my year. Hufflepuff. She was that first girl who asked you to the Yule Ball, remember?"

"Oh." Harry did remember.

Taskemus – Did the completely amazing plot come through even more on this one?

Sunkyssed – Sorry about the chapters. They do get longer, and the last one will be REALLY long, I promise!