Thanks, like always, to Joycelyn!
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Favour
Summertime. Usually, for a vampire, this word would be synonymous for annoyance. The sun stretched out its hours of reign, shortening considerably the time vampires could run freely. On the other hand, though, more people were wandering in the streets on summer nights, which was always an advantage.
However, Darla's thoughts were far from this. Actually, she was thrilled that summer had arrived at last, as it meant that Connor's school holidays had started and she would see him more often. In fact, this year her son would spend an entire month with her, which was doubly special as she hadn't seen him since Christmas.
Darla was busy getting everything ready for Connor's arrival that would take place within August's first week, after he had spent the first half of his holidays with Severus, when something got her thoughts off this completely. She got a message on July 30th... a message from Albus Dumbledore, in which he asked her to meet him that evening at The Leaky Cauldron.
It's needless to explain how utterly shocked she was at this. The last time she'd spoken to Dumbledore had been when she'd thanked him for convincing Severus she would not harm her son... which had taken place five years ago.
At first, she'd been worried. Had something bad happened to Connor? She'd gotten a letter from her son just the previous day, but perhaps... However, Dumbledore, who'd probably guessed how Darla was going to react, was careful enough to add a PS explaining that it had nothing to do with Connor. Which was even more strange. What could Dumbledore want to talk her about that wasn't related in any way with her child?
Feeling very curious and just a little apprehensive, that very same evening Darla made her way to the now familiar pub. She entered, her head held high, and nobody looked twice at her Muggle clothes. The regular clients were used to seeing her, and probably thought she was some eccentric Muggle-born witch who refused to wear Wizarding robes. Some of them had even started to greet her with a small inclination of their heads, which she answered in the same polite way, although she never stopped to chat or have a drink. Instead, and just like all the other times she'd came in here to use the Floo Network to Snape's, she headed straight to the bar where the landlord, Tom, was wiping some glasses. He looked up when she approached and gave her a toothless smile.
''Evening, Miss. Professor Dumbledore's waiting for you.'
He led the way to a small door which was half-hidden in the wall, opened it and stepped aside. She thanked him and walked inside, bending her head a little as the door closed behind her.
She found herself in a small candle-lit room (honestly, what did these people have against electricity?), with wooden floors and panels on the walls. In the centre there was a small, round table covered with a purple cloth stained with candle burnts. And, behind this table, was Albus Dumbledore.
Darla couldn't help feeling impressed every time she saw him. His long, silvery beard and his outfit always reminded her of the ancient tales about Merlin and the wizards that appeared in fairy tales and Disney movies, in contrast to the more common ones like those one could find at The Leaky Cauldron or Connor himself. However, Darla suspected that the thing that mystified her the most was the immense wisdom gleaming in his clear eyes, which wasn't merely the wisdom of a particularly bright man, but the kind of wisdom obtained by years and years of experience. She was always reminded of an old personage from ancient times – although, now she came to think of it, the man was two hundred and fifty years her junior.
His gaze fell upon her and he smiled warmly.
'Good evening, Darla. I am pleased to see you again.'
Darla bowed her head just a little. 'It's nice to see you too, Professor.'
As she sat on the chair across from him, she wondered for the eleventh time what on earth was going on. Some of her uneasiness must have shown on her features, because Dumbledore said:
'I am certain you must be wondering the reason behind this meeting and we will cover such important matter at its given time. Now, however, there are certain things that need to be clarified first. What would you like to drink?'
Darla blinked, a little taken aback at the change of subject.
'Um... coffee would be alright.'
Dumbledore nodded gravely, as if they were discussing a very serious matter, and withdrew his wand from his pocket. At a flicker of it, a mug of coffee appeared out of thin air to be softly placed in front of Darla, as a steaming cup of tea was put in front of Dumbledore.
Alright. Clearly, in a place like this electricity is so overrated.
'The reason I have requested for your presence here tonight, Darla,' Dumbledore finally started to explain, once all the feeble attempts for small talk had died away, 'is because I find myself in the necessity of asking you a favour.'
Darla's eyes widened a little, as she stirred her coffee. It was hard to imagine what a powerful sorcerer like Dumbledore could need her for. Unless...
'Does it have something to the with the Slayer's School, sir?'
Dumbledore smiled and promptly shook his head. 'Oh, no, not at all. I have heard from Mr. Giles the wonderful job you're doing in there – but that's clearly beyond my concern, as Slayers are the Watcher's Council's duty and not my own. No, actually what I wanted to ask you was to host a friend of mine in your house.'
'...huh?'
Of all the things she could have expected, this wasn't one of them.
'Would you mind explaining why me, sir?' Darla, who was feeling rather bewildered by now, inquired. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
'Of course, Darla. What happened is that this friend of mine...'
-
Right after her interview with Dumbledore, Darla decided to pay Severus a visit. Hopefully the wizard would be able to answer some of the dozen questions that were exploding in her mind.
When she stepped into his living room, brushing off the ashes, he didn't wince, used as he was to her by now. However, he did flinch when she casually asked:
'Severus, what do you now about a wizard called Sidious Black?'
Was it her imagination or had Severus just become several shades paler?
'I guess you're referring to Sirius Black.'
'Oh,' said Darla, 'yeah, I guess that's the right name. Well? What do you know about him?'
Severus' face was a blank mask when he asked why she fathomed that piece of information. When she explained it to him, though, he looked as if he had been hit with a sauce pan on the face.
'You what!'
Tom, the famous toothless landlord of The Leaky Cauldron, reflected in the strange nature of things. His job wasn't exactly boring – after all, there was a lot of people moving around and eventful things were bound to take place. However, after a while even that could get a little ordinary – but this time, his comfortable routine had been broken twice in only fourteen hours.
The previous day, Albus Dumbledore himself had asked him to prepare him a private chamber where he could have a meeting. This wasn't so odd for Tom, as Hogwarts' Headmaster had asked him to do so a few times in the past, so at first his curiosity wasn't particularly piqued. However, it was awoken when he saw who was going to meet Dumbledore.
For quite some years now, a strange visitor kept coming to his inn to use the Floo Network. It wasn't that she looked weird or anything – actually, she was rather pretty, with her golden hair and her fair skin. But she did act oddly. First of all, she always wore Muggle clothes. That wasn't so uncommon, as The Leaky Cauldron functioned as a portal between the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds, but it was odd that she never stopped to have a drink, have a chat with somebody or, even weirder, go to Diagon Alley. Instead she walked straight to the bar, greeted him and politely asked whether she could use the chimney. She barely changed a word or a gesture in nearly six years.
When she came in last evening, a good amount of talking surfaced among the usual crowd, who were all too accustomed to her going straight for the chimney. Instead, when he escorted her to a half-hidden door in the wall, everyone started whispering among themselves and once he'd resurfaced they began to question him about the mysterious woman. He had smiled and kept his face unreadable: Dumbledore had asked him to be discreet about the whole matter... although Tom doubted he would have been able to answer any of their questions, as he didn't know much more than his clients did.
At the end of his meeting, and once the woman had vanished again in Muggle London, Dumbledore had asked him to arrange that very same chamber, but for the following morning. Intrigued but knowing it would be useless to question the old wizard, he'd agreed at once. Just when he'd thought he'd got his good amount of weirdness for a week, he saw who would meet Dumbledore this time: it was none other than Sirius Black himself.
Tom had been one of the many who'd been shocked to hear Black had gone to the Dark side, as he'd known him well and believed there wasn't a less likely candidate to join You-Know-Who's ranks, and who'd been even more shocked to hear about his innocence. Like the rest of the Wizarding world, his shock had increased when Black, instead of enjoying his freedom and resuming his old life, had practically vanished to live like an hermit, possibly hidden in the Muggle world. It was impossible to understand that someone with Black's fine background (although lately the Black lineage had been stained by some of its mislead members like the infamous Bellatrix), his Galleons and his recently acquired fame would wish to shut himself out of his home world.
The rumour was that the Potter child was living with him, as he'd been James Potter's very best friend. Tom didn't know whether to give the rumour credit or not, all he knew was that Black, once or twice a year, showed up at The Leaky Cauldron, had a few drinks with Mr. Lupin or Mrs. Tonks, paid a visit to Diagon Alley and left as fast as he could. Little was left from the cheerful and outgoing bloke Tom had once met. The new Black was reserved and taciturn, barely talking to anyone, not even those he'd known for years, and his eyes had become a couple of shades darker, as if Azkaban's ghosts hadn't stopped haunting him. To tell the truth, this new version of Sirius Black gave old Tom the creeps.
Today was no different. Sure, Black had been very polite when he'd greeted him, but there was something strained in his smile, something icy in his eyes that prevented Tom from being too talkative. Old Doris Crockford wasn't that wise, though.
'Oi, Sirius! Want to have a drink with us?'
Black stopped only a mere second to glance over his shoulder.
'I'm sorry, Doris, but I'm busy right now.'
His tone was, again, very polite... and deadly cold. Doris looked taken aback, mumbled something and returned her attention to her drink. Black resumed his walk, only stopping once to dedicate small Dedalus Diggle a bow, and then he hastened to disappear through the door Tom had showed him.
This was, indeed, a very strange day. And it was bound to get stranger when Hagrid arrived with none other than The Boy Who Lived himself...
-
After mumbling a half-hearted 'hello', Sirius sank into the chair across from Dumbledore. He hoped that the old man would go straight to the point, as he certainly wasn't in the mood to linger. He'd spent the prior day explaining everything to Harry about his past, with the consequence that later Sirius had to deal with the boy's righteous anger (although there hadn't been much of that, as Harry had been far too surprised at the news of his magical powers to be truly mad at Sirius for keeping it from him). After that, he'd been very kindly escorted to the Ministry of Magic itself, a place he'd started to hate almost as much as Azkaban, where he'd been endlessly questioned about the events of that morning. As if that hadn't been enough, now Sirius faced the prospect of having to look for yet another new home, as their last location had been revealed. Just the thought of it exhausted the already weary Sirius.
Dumbledore must have noticed this, as he skipped all preliminary small talk.
'I have some good news for you, Sirius,' he said instead, as he materialized a cup of tea for Sirius and some sherbets lemon for himself.
The younger man straightened up in his seat, his eyes alight with interest. It was about time he received some good news.
'Aurelia Rookwood has been already apprehended and questioned at the Auror's Headquarters.'
Sirius snorted. 'Well, it's nice to hear that they can do something right from time to time.'
Acting as though he had not heard him, Dumbledore placidly continued:
'She is going to stand a trial for kidnapping, although I suspect she will probably be confined in St. Mungo's. Merlin knows her state of mind doesn't make her a suitable candidate for Azkaban.'
'Why not? She could share the cell with her husband. After all, if they believed it was good enough for me...'
Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles and calmly said:
'That is the reason, I presume, they are trying to do things the proper way this time.'
Sirius felt a little ashamed at the bitterness of his previous comment, which had made him sound like a self-pitying child. It was amazing the way how, every time he face the Headmaster, Sirius felt more like a troublemaking child being chastised than like the adult he had become.
Dumbledore opted for a change of subject and asked about Harry.
'I left him with Hagrid. He's going with him to buy his school stuff – then I'll meet them in the McDonald's that's around the corner.'
'I am glad to hear it. I am certain that Hagrid is pleased at the prospect of getting to know James' and Lily's son.'
'Yeah...' Sirius absently murmured. Harry'd seemed to like Hagrid, too, which was quite a compliment for the half-giant as his godson usually didn't like strangers that much. Sirius himself had been happy to see Hagrid again. The gatekeeper looked exactly like Sirius remembered him – which probably made him one of the few things that had remained unaltered, as even Dumbledore himself, now he came to think of it, looked older. And there had been a time Sirius had believed Dumbledore to be immortal. Things changed, indeed.
'How did the nutter of Rookwood's wife find out about Harry's location? I thought that the security was tighter than ever...'
A grim expression sombered Dumbledore's features. 'She didn't find out precisely your location. She had a good amount of luck... and the, I hope, unknowing help of a rather nosy reporter who shall remain unnamed.'
Sirius cursed. Loudly.
'That wench! Honestly, one of these days, I'll just go and snap her neck, Azkaban be damned!'
'Now we have established that important fact,' Dumbledore interrupted his diatribe, his eyes twinkling, 'we should embark on the discussion of your future accommodation, at least in a short time period.'
Sirius knew sooner or later they would reach that part. He had already memorized each one of the steps: learning what had produced the last leak of information, suffocate it, find a new place, casting special security spells, moving in, getting a new job... He'd gone through the whole cycle more times than he could count.
Sirius had the distinct impression that Dumbledore had already started to make the necessary arrangements. Normally this would have annoyed Sirius, who considered he had a right to make some decisions about the future course of his life, thank you very much, but this time he felt so tired of the whole thing that he was willing to accept whatever came his way.
'I'm afraid that I have failed to tell you about Mr. Giles, an old friend of mine who is currently running the School for Vampire Slayers, haven't I?'
Sirius felt rather clueless. 'Er... by Slayers, do you mean those legendary Muggle girls with superpowers who go out at night to get rid of vampires and such?' Dumbledore nodded. Sirius was relieved that he'd remembered that little piece of information – after all, not many wizards and witches knew about those Muggle girls who were chosen to fight Dark creatures of the night and the legends that were told about them. Which, now he came to think of it...
'Wait a second... I thought there was only one Slayer in each generation.'
Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. 'That was before. However, Slayers aren't my point. You see, Sirius, Mr. Giles has a very capable employee, a delightful woman indeed, who happens to have a son about Harry's age. Well, actually the boy's a year older – he's just finished his first year at Hogwarts.'
Sirius nodded, because he assumed that was expected from him, but so far he was clueless of what Dumbledore was rambling about. He knew the old man would make sense in no time... or at least, he hoped so.
'She's a Muggle, of course, and as a consequence of certain circumstances I shall explain to you later, she wasn't able to take care of her child. Mr. Giles requested my advice on the matter, and I happened to find a suitable wizard tutor for Connor. His mother's always been very grateful because of it – and she's delightedly accepted to host you and Harry in her home until you find a more suitable place. Hopefully this time in the Wizarding world.'
It took Sirius a longer while than usual to digest the full meaning of Dumbledore's words.
'Let me get it straight,' he said quietly, carefully placing the mug of tea he'd been sipping on the table. 'Are you telling me that Harry and I are going to move in with a Muggle woman I haven't heard of in my entire life?'
Dumbledore didn't bother to look up: he had his gaze fixed upon the sherbet lemon he was unwrapping.
'Yes, that is what I recall saying.'
Sirius stared at him. Dumbledore kept unwrapping the bloody candy, humming softly an old song of Celestina Warbeck as he did so.
'Professor, that makes no sense. Which kind of a security can a Muggle provide us?'
'Well,' Dumbledore, who'd just unfinished the unwrapping, cheerfully said, 'not much. But she'd not be there to provide you protection; for that you'll count with my security spells and yourself, who have been doing a wonderful job so far. Besides,' he added, a little more seriously, 'you can't deny the great advantage it represents the fact she won't rush to spill the beans to the Daily Prophet. And, if I were you, I wouldn't underestimate a person's power just because she doesn't posses magic. Remember she trains Slayers for a living.'
'And what about her boy's tutor? Is he reliable enough?'
Dumbledore's response took a little longer this time, as he'd just put a major part of the sherbet inside his mouth. Sirius watched him as he swallowed, fascinated by the fact a man as old as Dumbledore could still eat as much candy as he did.
'I assure you, Sirius, that I selected the man in question with all possible caution, and that he's completely trustworthy.'
Sirius realised he would have to take Dumbledore's words for it, but if he could no longer trust in the Headmaster's judgement, then the Wizarding world was seriously screwed. Speaking of which...
'You also said that I could get a new place in the Wizarding world, didn't you?' Sirius asked, not daring to believe it. Dumbledore calmly nodded.
'Yes, Sirius, I said so. I think that, as Harry will go to Hogwarts this year and, by doing so, he will be introduced to the Wizarding community, you no are longer compelled to live as a Muggle. You can return to your world, Sirius.'
The young man was frozen to the spot. He could not believe his ears. He was returning to the Wizarding world. He had dreamed of this day for years. No more washing machine, no more small talk with people who didn't speak his same language, no more lies, no more doing everything the Muggle way. He was returning to the Wizarding world and, with that, to his old life.
Except that that was no longer a possibility. It didn't matter really if he went to live into a magical house again or if he got a Wizarding job. It didn't matter anymore if he could use his wand freely again and wander around Diagon Alley like in the old days. Because there just was no way, either magical or Muggle, that his life could be turned back to the way it had been. There were too many dark memories, too many inner demons lurking in the dark, for him to go back into his carefree old self.
And, most important of all, James and Lily were no longer there.
Silence fell upon them. Dumbledore seemed to sense what he was thinking, but he didn't mutter words of comfort – they both knew there were none. Instead, he patiently waited for Sirius to pull himself together again.
Swallowing to get rid of the knot in his throat, Sirius tried to say as casually as he could:
'So, what about this Muggle woman's special condition? You said you would tell me all about it...'
Dumbledore looked very grave all of a sudden. He even left the sherbet unattended. Intrigued, Sirius leaned forward to listen.
'Yes, I said I would tell you.'
And so he did. As Dumbledore spoke, Sirius' eyes widened in shock. When he stopped explaining everything, Sirius realised his jaw had fallen open. He closed it, swallowed, opened it again...
'Wait a bloody second... She's a what!'
-
Sirius was very silent when he reunited with Harry and Hagrid , his mind still working feverishly to take in everything Dumbledore had told him. Harry, though, didn't seem to notice. He was far too busy detailing his day to Sirius, with all the amazing stuff and people he'd seen, eating his hamburger and thanking Hagrid for the snowy white owl he'd given him as a birthday present to dwell on his godfather's unusually quiet mood. Besides, he had a thousand questions in his head, and as Sirius wasn't particularly talkative that day, Hagrid answered them as well as he could. The gatekeeper couldn't hide his astonishment at Harry's ignorance, but he did his best to explain to him what Quidditch was, with occasional remarks from Sirius, and how Hogwarts was divided in four Houses (giving, Sirius noted, a very biased opinion about Slytherin, not that he minded that much, though). However, Sirius felt compelled to intervene when Harry voiced his insecurities about whether he would make a good wizard or not, given his background.
'Harry, you aren't the only one who's grown up knowing nothing about magic. Your mum herself was a Muggle-born and one of the most superb witches I've ever known. It doesn't matter what that boy at Madam Malkin's or anybody else might say,' at this point, it was a little hard for Sirius to hide the bitterness in his tone, 'coming from a Wizarding family doesn't make you a better wizard or witch. You have the talent or you don't. And,' Sirius smirked, 'judging from all the underage magic you've already performed, I would bet you're going to make a terrific wizard.'
Hagrid nodded in approval at Sirius' words, and Harry smiled a little over his Coke, looking a little more reassured. Sometimes, Sirius wondered, with a pang of sadness, if Harry would ever realise how special he was.
The time to depart arrived at last. Hagrid had to return to Hogwarts at once so it was time to say goodbye. Harry, usually shy with strangers, let himself be hugged by Hagrid – for a moment, Sirius was afraid he might break the boy in two – and then, to his own surprise, Hagrid gave him a bear hug, too. It was an odd feeling: for a blissful second during that rib-cracking hug, Sirius had the impression he was twelve again and he didn't have a care in the world.
'Sirius, I bin so sorry fer not believin' yeh...'
'It's OK, Hagrid,' Sirius reassured him, 'It's all forgiven and forgotten now.'
Harry, he noticed, looked very pensive all the way back to the hotel where they would spend the night. Knowing from experience that nagging him would do no good, Sirius patiently waited for Harry to voice his worries. Sure enough, after a while he heard Harry timidly asking:
'Sirius... which House were my parents in?'
'Gryffindor,' replied Sirius at once, and he refrained to add: Of course. There was no need to sound biased.
'Oh,' was Harry's response, and he fell silent again. This time, though, Sirius was able to read what was going on his godson's head.
'That doesn't mean anything, Harry. Not every child goes to the same House his parents did – I didn't, for instance. Don't worry over the Sorting: each House has its good and bad qualities. You'll go to the one who fits you best.'
'So,' Harry began tentatively, 'you don't mind which House I end up in, do you?'
'Of course not, Harry,' Sirius hastened to reassure him, placing a hand on his bony shoulder, 'as long as you feel comfortable where you are.'
The boy smiled, looking relieved, and Sirius smiled back at him.
There was no reason, he reflected, to be biased and speak evil of Slytherin just because he didn't like that House. Harry had the right to face the Sorting Hat without any preconceived ideas.
Besides, Hagrid had already done all the necessary Slytherin bashing for both of them, hadn't he?
One bright August morning, Sirius and Harry got out from a taxi, the first looking as though he was heading towards his ultimate demise; the latter, with a look of curiosity on his young features.
So, this is it. Here starts our lil' holiday in a crypt, Sirius thought wryly as he grabbed two suitcases and headed towards the brick square-shaped building in front of them, Harry trotting at his side with his school bag hanging over his shoulder. Sirius wondered, for the hundredth time, whether Dumbledore had gone mad or not and if so, why he was obeying his orders nevertheless. They were walking straight to danger, which in the past would have just excited him, but since he had to take care of Harry he saw the world with different eyes. And this was the place that Dumbledore, who was paranoid enough to practically stop Harry from having anything that resembled a social life, had considered safe enough for them to stay? Had he lost his marbles or what?
Oblivious to his godfather's distress, Harry looked at everything with interest. Sirius guessed that the building didn't look so bad on the inside – in fact, it looked like any other Muggle block of flats. Not like the place a... well, an evil creature of the night would live. An evil creature of the night who happened to have a son about Harry's age. Wasn't the world a very weird place to live in?
Much to Sirius' utter irritation, the lift didn't work, so they had to drag their suitcases up two flights of stairs. By the time they reached their destination, they were both sweating and Sirius' got a couple of bumps on his left arm. Bloody brilliant. Really, so far it was such a great day...
'If I'd known you were already here, I would have lent you two a hand with those. They look heavy.'
Sirius' looked up, and his gaze swept over the form of a slender, petite woman with fair skin and clear, detached eyes that were studying the scene before them. She was casually leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded over a light blue summer dress. Sirius noted she had managed to avoid the pools of sunlight that bathed the small hall.
'Here, let me take that,' she said, motioning towards the largest suitcase. For a fleeting second, Sirius thought of snatching it away from her – before he could react, though, the blonde woman had already lifted it, with the same ease as if it had weighted less than a feather. Sirius shot her a glare which she never acknowledged.
'Please, come in. It's cooler inside.'
With one last sigh, Sirius followed her into what certainly was the antechamber of hell.
For being the antechamber of hell, though, Sirius had to admit it looked rather nice and not at all like he would have expected. There was a spacious room, where kitchen, dinner room and living room seemed to be combined. The furniture was modern and classy, mostly in neutral or earthy colours – except for an occasional flash of colour every now and then. Surprised, he noted that the room wasn't dark at all. On the contrary, it was very illuminated, although not a lamp was lit. Frowning, Sirius took a closer look to his surroundings and, in spite of himself, he was impressed. The windows had been collocated in such a way that the light that poured through them reflected on a frieze which, Sirius realised, was made of little pieces of mirror patched artistically. This way, the whole room was alight with natural light – without casting one single ray of sunlight that could touch anyone on the room straightly. He had to admit it was very ingenious, indeed.
She left the suitcase next to a couch, gestured Sirius to do the same and turned to face them. Her blue gaze swept over him piercingly, as she held out her hand.
'I'm Darla.'
Reasoning that maddening their host wouldn't be a wise move, Sirius shook it.
'Sirius Black.'
'Nice to meet you.' She turned to Harry, and he noticed her eyes softened as she did so, whereas a warm smile curved her lips. 'And you must be Harry, right?'
'Yes, ma'am.'
Her smiled broadened. 'Just call me Darla. Want something to drink?'
Sirius opened his mouth to say 'no' at the same time Harry said 'yes'. Darla made a gesture at Harry to follow her as she headed towards the fridge.
'A glass of milk? I have some coke, too...'
'Milk's fine, thank you.'
With the efficiency that's gained from practice, in no time she had a glass of milk and a plate of Oreos placed in front of Harry. Her kind didn't poison people, did they?
As Harry was occupied emptying the contents of both the glass and the plate, it occurred to Sirius that it was time to make certain things clear.
'May I have a word with you, Darla?'
She glanced at him, a calculating look in her eyes.
'Sure,' she said in an expressionless tone. 'Here, Harry,' She handed the boy a control remote, 'you can watch TV if you want.'
She led the way along a narrow corridor, entered the first room and closed the door behind Sirius. He had enough time to notice they were in a boy's room before she turned to face him, hands on her hips. For the first time, he realised how incredibly young she looked – until one's gaze reached her eyes. Those eyes, which right now were fixed on his questioningly, didn't belong to a young person.
'So? What do you have to say?'
There probably were at least a dozen ways of approaching the subject more or less diplomatically – but Sirius Black had never been known for his diplomacy.
'I don't trust you.'
She merely raised an eyebrow, looking rather unimpressed.
'Really?' She shrugged. 'Can't say I'm surprised. Don't they teach at Hogwarts how to kill my kind?'
Sirius eyed her carefully, folding his arms over his chest. 'Does it bother you?'
She snorted and looked at him as if he were the stupidest bloke she'd ever seen.
'I train Vampire Slayers. I kill my kind for a living, remember?'
Touché.
'Let's make this fully clear, Black.' Her voice, thought Sirius, could probably cut through ice. 'I'm only doing this 'cause Dumbledore asked me to. The man's done a lot for me, so I wasn't going to refuse doing him a small favour. However,' she added, her expression blank, 'if you're afraid I might have a go at Harry, you're free to lock your bedroom at night.'
She turned round, opened the door and held it for him. Trying to keep what was left of his dignity, he walked past her with his head held high – although he thought he'd glimpsed a sneer on her face. He could have very well imagined it, though, because when Darla next spoke, as they headed back to the kitchen, her tone couldn't have been politer.
'I have a spare bedroom, see – you could share it with Harry or, if you prefer, he could sleep with Connor...'
'No – that's not necessary,' Sirius replied, keeping, like her, the polite facade now they were within Harry's earshot. 'Harry and I will share.'
He realised, though, that she was no longer paying him any attention. Something had distracted her, and she seemed to be listening intently to an inaudible sound... Soon, however, Sirius was able to hear it too: a key was turning in the keyhole.
The door flung open, and a blur of brown and blue flew past Sirius and right into Darla's waiting arms. Sirius and Harry, who was now wearing a white moustache, exchanged a questioning glance. At a closer look, though, Sirius managed to identify the brown-and-blue blur as a light brown-haired boy dressed in a navy blue T-shirt and jeans, whom Darla lifted as though he'd been weightless.
'Mum, you won't believe all the stuff we've seen... I've taken loads and loads of pictures... Mum, go easy, I can't brea –' His voice tailed off in mid-sentence, when over Darla's shoulder his blue eyes met Sirius' gray ones. The boy's eyes widened, and he hastened to urge:
'Mum, put me down on the floor, I'm not a small kid anymore!'
Chuckling, Darla released the child.
'To me, you're always be my lil' baby. And I've just missed you so much.' She beamed at him, and Sirius' stomach did a flip. Could this loving mother be a vampire...?
The boy rolled his eyes, which proved to be a mistake, as Darla took advantage of his distraction to plant a kiss on his cheek. He flinched, blushing furiously.
'Mum! There're people watching!,' he hissed.
As Darla chuckled again, a male voice came from the doorway:
'Darla, please do stop embarrassing Connor, or otherwise you will have scarred him for life.'
Sirius froze on the spot. That voice... He'd heard that voice before, he knew it far too well to mistake it, but...
No way, no way in bleeding hell...
Slowly, very slowly, Sirius' head turned to face the doorframe, all the time a small voice pleading no, no, no, it can't be, don't let it be, no, no...
Standing in the doorway, was a tall man, fully dressed in black, who had his hair parted in two greasy curtains around a sallow face. Sirius could not believe his eyes. Ten years had happened since he'd last seen this man and, despite that, he looked exactly as he remembered him; the same oily hair, the same slimy skin, the same cold, dark eyes...
And, of course, the same sneer plastered over his face.
'What's he doing here?'
Sirius heard the clattering sound made by Harry's glass on the breakfast table, he saw the man's sneer becoming more pronounced, he felt Darla stiffening next to him... But, rather surprisingly, the only one who dared to answer him was the boy. He jumped in front of Sirius, who noticed how skinny he was, although not nearly as much as Harry, and put his hands inside his jeans' pockets.
'Well,' he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, 'things are like this. This is my mother's place. She,' he waved a hand in Darla's direction, 'happens to be my mum, see. I don't live here, so that man standing over there, who happens to be my tutor, has brought me here so I could spend the rest of my holidays with my mum. See, that's the reason he's here.' Was it his overworked imagination, or had he just seen an amused twinkling in the boy's eyes? 'His name's Severus Snape. Oh, by the way,' ha added, holding out his hand, 'I'm Connor.'
Still too shocked to think of a good comeback, Sirius only muttered his own name as he shook the boy's white hand. The brat smiled, somewhat mockingly. Or perhaps he was just being paranoid.
'Nice to meet you, Sirius.' After one last glance, Connor headed towards the breakfast table. Sirius turned his head and saw Harry uncertainly approaching the strange boy.
'Um, hi. I'm Harry Potter.'
'Nice to meet you too, Harry,' Connor casually said, shaking his hand. Sirius noticed the boy didn't even flinch at the name, neither did his gaze sweep over the famous scar on his godson's forehead. Sirius idly wondered what his mother (or- shudder - Snape) might have told him beforehand so he would act so calm and collected while meeting a celebrity. He'd probably never know.
'Why don't you show Harry where he's going to stay, dear?'
Connor nodded at his mother and indicated Harry to follow him. Once they were without earshot, Snape took a couple of steps in and, closing the door behind him, said:
'Well, well, well, Black... we meet again. I must say that years have not gone easy on you, judging by your obviously decayed state. And, who would have believed it... Somebody was insane enough to give you a child's custody...'
Sirius' hands clenched into fists. 'You're one to talk, slime grease ball...'
'Stop it right now!'
Darla had strode over the centre of the room, right in the way between them. She was turning her head to glare each one of them in turn, her eyes flashing from anger.
'Professor McGonagall's told me all about you two, and like hell I'm letting you...'
'McGonagall what?'
Darla shrugged at Snape's hiss. 'Before letting him,' she shook her head in Sirius' direction, 'enter my house, I wanted a second opinion, as yours sounded a little... well, biased.' Ignoring Snape's indignant expression, she went on: 'So, I thought a needed a less partial opinion... and it occurred to me that there hardly could be a less biased person than Professor McGonagall, so I wrote to her. And she told me everything about', at this point, a sneer was slowly forming on her pale face, 'your special relationship.'
She put her hands on her hips and glared at them through narrowed eyes.
'I will make myself fully clear from the very beginning. I don't give a crap about your past or whether you want to kill each other once you're out of here. However, this is my house, and certain rules must be followed,' she said sternly. 'I will not tolerate bickering or fighting in my presence – least of all in front of the children. It's an awful example.'
Sirius stared at her, astonished beyond words. From what he could glimpse of Snape's expression, he hadn't expected this either.
For a second, Sirius thought of giving the petite bossy woman a piece of his mind... then he remembered she wasn't exactly a woman and kept his mouth shut. Obviously the other man's mind was thinking along the same lines, as he remained unusually silent.
'Now, Sirius,' she spoke in a softer, silkier voice, 'I think it'd be better if you began putting your things in order. Severus,' she turned to face the man, smiling, 'thanks for bringing Connor.'
Her smile wasn't mirrored on Snape's face. 'I would like having a word with Connor before I leave,' he said rather stiffly. Darla seemed quite unaffected at his cold attitude.
'Sure, I'll call him.'
As Darla did so, Sirius grabbed his suitcases and began to head towards the guest room, not before shooting Snape a last murderous glare.
This was going to be a very, very long summer.
The doorbell rang and Sirius, noticing Darla was busy taking out plates and glasses ('Ordered pizza – you okay with that?'), went to answer it. Much to his surprise, what he found at the doorframe wasn't the typical boy in his late teens, face covered in acne and dressed in some ridiculously bright uniform, he was used to. Actually, the man who was holding two boxes of pizzas was as far from that as it could possibly be.
He was pale, very pale, with pointed cheekbones and spiky, peroxide blonde hair, and he was fully dressed in black, with a long leather duster, boots and black polish on his nails. Sirius blinked.
'You aren't the delivery boy, are you?'
The man raised an scarred eyebrow.
'Do I look like a bloody delivery boy to you?' Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. 'And who're you? Darla's new beau?'
Before the startled Sirius could recover from the shock and reply, a tinkling laugh was heard behind him.
'Far from it, Spike, far from it. Oh, you've brought dinner, that's wonderful.'
Sirius winced. Darla, who'd appeared out of nowhere, was now standing right beside him.
'Spike, this is Sirius Black. I told you about him, remember? That he and his godson were staying for a while?'
Spike, whose gaze was still fixed upon Sirius, nodded. 'Yeah, you mentioned that...' He frowned. 'Where do your folk get those bloody names that always end up in "us"?'
Darla visibly stomped on Spike's foot. 'Let's go inside, shall we?'
After taking the pizzas from Spike's hands, Darla headed towards the dinner table. Spike stepped into the flat with the air of one who's been there loads of times – sure enough, he'd barely got inside when Connor came rushing to meet him.
'Spike! You've got to see what I've brought from the Highlands, it's amazing...'
'Hullo, Pigeon,' Spike said affectionately as he ruffled the boy's hair. Connor scowled.
'Don't call me Pigeon, I'm twelve already, remember?'
Spike smirked. 'All grown up, aren't you? Almost ready for your drivin' license and all...' He shook his head. 'To me, kiddo, you're always gonna be...
'...Pigeon,' Connor finished for him, sadly.
'Hey, aren't you gonna introduce me to Scarface here?'
Sirius winced, and so did Harry, who had just popped up from behind the taller boy. Connor, though, merely rolled his eyes and whispered to Harry a 'just ignore him.' To Spike, he said:
'His name's Harry, not Scarface, and he's staying with us for the summer. Harry, this is Spike, I told you about him.'
Harry took a step forwards to shake Spike's hand, all the time eyeing the man with curiosity gleaming in his green eyes. Sirius noticed that the man's gaze lingered a moment on Harry's lightning-shaped scar.
'Kiddo, what happened on your forehead,' he asked casually.
An awkward silence fell upon them, as Harry stared at his trainers, Sirius glared at Spike and Spike himself shot Connor a questioning glance. Fortunately, Darla chose that very moment to call them to sit at the table.
Sirius assumed that dinner was going to be a rather awkward business. Darla and him hadn't started with the right foot, and things weren't improved by the fact Sirius winced every time he saw her raising her knife. On the other hand, Sirius had certain suspicions about Spike that didn't make him to feel comfortable at all, because surely the paleness of his skin couldn't be natural, not for a human at least...
Bloody brilliant. I'm sharing the table not with one, but with two vampires.
Besides, the bloke certainly cursed too much in front of the children – or he did until Darla threatened him with her fork – which set a dreadful example.
All right, Sirius himself cursed a lot too... but not so loudly, at least.
He felt rather left out at first, as Connor commented about his holidays with the Slime Grease Ball in the Highlands, and Spike and Darla talked about people he'd never heard about. However, in the middle of the dinner Spike idly commented:
''Course that damned Manchester had to lose, it always does when I go the the stadium...'
Sirius turned to face him. 'Did you go to see the Manchester? How was it?'
And so Sirius and Spike embarked themselves in an interesting conversation about the Manchester United and football in general, which included a lot of Arsenal bashing. Sirius soon forgot about Spike's earlier unfortunate comment about Harry's forehead, and he also stopped glancing at Darla every time she moved her knife.
It was, certainly, a very odd situation, sharing a table with a female vampire and a peroxide blonde punk who also happened to be a fan of the Manchester. It was even weirder to see Connor Angel, the boy whose mother was a vampire and who'd been raised up by none other than Snivellus himself, laughing with Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding world and son to James Potter, as though they were the bestest friends in the world.
Sirius decided they had just given the word "bizarre" a whole new meaning.
Sparky: Nice to hear you still like this. Hope you like as well the turn things have turned now...
Luna Moonlight Fawn: As for the crazy witch, you have to wait no more. She's locked in St. Mungo's and probably won't be seen again. i'm glado you liked my twist, I'm trying to make this fic original but also to be faithful to the book. Thanks!
The Female Nerd: Wait no more! Here's the chapter, hope you've liked it. It's always nice to find new readers.
Next, in '2SP': Chapter 23: The Potted Plant Incident. Sirius and Harry will face some unexpected obstacles while living at Darla's and Connor's place...