Thanks to Joycelyn for her work. Believe me, this would be much harder to read if she wasn't my beta.

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Potted Plant Incident

When he first opened his eyes, Sirius didn't know where he was. He wasn't surprised, though. The feeling of disorientation had become familiar over the last seven years with all the times he and Harry had moved around.

His gaze swept around his surroundings. It was a square-shaped room with white, nude walls and two twin iron-made beds, with a small table and a lamp between them. There wasn't anything personal or familiar in the room, except for the worn-looking suitcase at the foot of his own bed, which he'd used many times in the past. As soon as he saw it, he remembered.

I'm in the house of a bloodsucking vampire, who has a child that was raised by none other than Snivellus himself.

Bloody brilliant.

As he headed towards the kitchen, the faint sound of children's laughter and chattering reached his ears. Of course, Harry had always gotten up very early, and it seemed that the Angel boy had the same habit as well. Both of them were sitting at the breakfast table, over which several books and photographs were spread. Harry was putting toast right into his mouth as Connor gestured with his hands, evidently explaining something, and it was only by pure luck he didn't knock over the bowl of cereal in front of him.

'Morning, kids.' Sirius walked past them, not without noticing that the books seemed to be Hogwarts textbooks and that the pictures were very clearly magical.

Harry mumbled something that Sirius translated as a 'Hi, Sirius!' although it was hard to say, as the boy's mouth was obstructed by toast. Connor stopped his explanation long enough to let out a 'Morning' and indicate where the coffee and the mugs were. Then, as Sirius started to fix his breakfast, Connor resumed his description right where he'd left it.

'...so if you misbehave, teachers take points from your House, and if you do something right (like winning a Quidditch match or giving a right answer in class) they give you points. By the end of the year, points are counted, and the House with the most points is awarded with the House Cup. Last year, for instance, Slytherin won both the Quidditch and the House Cups.'

Probably by cheating, Sirius thought idly, as he poured some coffee into a blue mug. It was oddly comforting to see things at his old school hadn't changed at all.

'What are the Houses like and how do you get selected for each one of them?'

'Well,' Connor said, in the superior tone that only a second-year in front of a future first-year could master, 'Each House represents different personality traits, and you get selected according to which traits you possess. But don't ask me how the selection works: we aren't supposed to tell.'

Or I would have already told Harry all about it.

Harry was silent for a moment, probably more than a little disappointed at the elusive answer.

'But which are the traits of each House?'

This time, the answer took a little bit longer, as Connor had first to swallow a spoonful of cereal.

'In Hufflepuff, they're all supposed to be hard-workers and very loyal, see. In Ravenclaw you'll find all the smart ones. Slytherin's for the cunning and Gryffindor, for the bravest. Some might tell you that all Hufflepuff are losers, 'cause they never win the Cup, or that Slytherins are evil or something – that's bullshit. Each House has its good and its bad traits.'

The boy sounds just like a McGonagall speech, Sirius thought, although he felt impressed in spite of himself. Not many children of Connor's age were capable of talking with such unbiasedness. The effect, though, was somewhat ruined when the boy added:

'Of course, the best House of all is Gryffindor.'

'Why is that so,' Harry inquired, sounding surprised. Sirius, who'd just turned as he took the mug of coffee to his lips, glimpsed a knowing smile spreading over Connor's face.

'Well, because that's the House I'm in, obviously.'

Both boys jumped and yelped when the blue coffee mug crashed on the floor... right on Sirius' left foot, which he felt burning as the scorching coffee soaked his slipper. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his wand and repaired the thrice-damned mug as he cleaned up the coffee stains on the floor as well.

'Sirius, are you all right,' a concerned Harry asked, after getting over the impression of seeing his godfather perform magic. To the Muggle-raised boy, it was still a wonder each time he saw magic.

Sirius mumbled an 'I'm fine', as he put the mug on the sink. All in a sudden, the urge to drink coffee had vanished.

Frowning slightly, he turned to Connor. 'Sorry, I must've misheard you – did you just say you were in Gryffindor?'

Connor kept his face unreadable.

'No, you haven't misheard me.'

Sirius noticed that Harry was now looking at him with a look of curiosity in his green eyes, but he ignored it.

'You – you're in Gryffindor? For real?'

'Connor's already said it twice. Are you deaf or do you need me to spell what he says?'

The three of them winced and turned to look at Darla, who'd appeared out of nowhere. Her thin frame was wrapped in an over-sized bathrobe, her hair was a mess and her skin a couple of shades paler than usual. And, by the way, she looked rather cross.

'Uh-oh,' Connor whispered to Sirius. 'She hates to be waken up early.'

And you tell me that now

She ran a hand through her hair and fixed her eyes on Sirius'. It took him all his nerve not to take a step backwards.

'I don't know who was the caveman that brought you up, Black, but I'd appreciate a bit of quiet while I sleep. Do you think you can accomplish that?'

Sirius mumbled a 'yes', feeling utterly annoyed. Did she have to make him look like an idiot in front of the children?

'And I also hope that everything's clean and in its place when I return,' she added sternly. In that moment, a timid voice was heard:

'I can do the washing-up...'

Darla turned to face Harry, and at once her scowl melted into a tender smile. 'You're such a darling, Harry. Thank you so much for your offer – but I bet your godfather can handle it all by himself.'

And with that, she turned round on her heels and disappeared from sight, probably to return to bed. As soon as she was out of earshot, Connor let out a relieved sigh.

'Wow. That was a close call.'

Sirius raised an eyebrow. 'Is she always such a sweet-tempered girl?'

'Oh, no,' Connor replied with a smile, 'only on a Sunday at nine AM.'

'She's nice... to me,' Harry piped up. Connor and Sirius exchanged a look.

'Wait till you know her better,' the boy said knowingly, but soon the subject was forgotten as Connor began telling Harry about Professor Binns and his dramatic entrance through the blackboard. Sirius frowned. Had things at Hogwarts changed so little since Sirius had last set foot there?

In that moment, Sirius spotted something that made him want to slap himself.

Lying over the pile of books he'd noticed earlier, he now saw that there was a long, red-and-gold banner, with the word 'Gryffindor' written all across it.

Idiot.

---

After the whole ordeal was over, Connor wondered who on earth had been mad enough to give his mother a potted plant. It was well-known fact that Darla Jones did not have good touch with plants. There was a reason Connor had stopped giving her flowers for Mother's Day – somehow, the flowers in her care just happened to die within hours. No wonder he was such a disaster at Herbology, given his genes...

Later on, he learnt that she'd gotten the thrice-damned plant from a coworker, as a 'thank you' for helping her with some financial trouble. However, it wasn't important to know who had given her the plant or why. What was important was that the plant in question was a common, very Muggle potted plant... until Harry Potter came into the equation, that is.

-

When Harry woke up that morning, he was only a little fevered. After fussing over him for a while, Sirius gave him some aspirin, and asked him for the eleventh time if he would be all right. Harry assured him that he didn't feel too bad, and that Sirius shouldn't worry over him. Finally, Darla told Sirius that, if he had to go to look for a house, which had been his original plan, he'd better go at once and that she would take care of Harry. Connor noticed that Sirius still felt uneasy, but he had no other choice.

During that day, Connor and Harry mostly watched videos, as the latter wasn't up to do nothing that required more energy. To Connor, Harry didn't look too ill, but late in the afternoon, when Darla pressed her hand on the boy's forehead, a frown was formed on her face.

'The fever's risen. You'd better go to bed, Harry, at least until your godfather arrives.'

The boy tried to protest, but he was obviously not feeling all right so he finally let Darla carry him to his bedroom. Connor watched the proceedings with curiosity. Now he came to think of it, he didn't remember the last time he'd had fever. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been ill at all.

At nigthfall, Sirius arrived in quite a foul mood. Evidently the house hunting thing hadn't turned out too well. He went to check on Harry, whose fever had risen a little more.

'I'll give him a bath and, if that doesn't work, I'll call a doctor.'

Connor saw his mother nodding in agreement at Sirius' words (which was a little odd, as they never seemed to agree on anything) as she got ready for work.

'Spike'll come in a few minutes – he can lend you a hand if necessary.'

Connor's spirits rose at these words. He'd had a really dull day, but he was certain that Spike would find a way to entertain him. Spike was always so much fun to have around.

Spike arrived in the same moment that Darla left. She warned him that Harry was sick, so he and Connor shouldn't do anything too noisy, and that included electrical guitar lessons. That didn't cheer up the boy, but he guessed that if it was for Harry's welfare, then he'd have to keep it quiet. But it was just going to be so boring!

However, Connor was wrong. Spike had bought a new video game, which they rushed to try on the Nintendo. Connor was glad to see that in this game he would have the upper hand, just like in most of the video games he played with Spike. Truth to be told, the man didn't get along with the joystick that well.

'There are beetles under my pillow,' a tremulous voice said behind them. 'They're green and they look poisonous.'

Connor and Spike turned round and saw a very pale Harry, whose eyes were red-rimmed and his pyjamas had stuck to his body with sweat. Both Spike and Connor left their joysticks, the game suddenly forgotten, and rose to their feet. Harry looked at Spike with curiosity.

'I don't know you. Who are you?'

'Um, Harry, this is Spike. You've met him before,' Connor said tentatively, but it didn't seem like Harry understood a word of what he'd said. Instead, the pallid boy repeated: 'There are green beetles under my pillow. Or perhaps they're bugs.'

Spike approached the sick-looking boy with caution.

'Harry, why don't you lie down on the couch while I look for Sirius?'

Harry, though, was no longer paying him any attention: his eyes had widened until they resembled huge saucers and he pointed at something behind Spike with a shaking finger. Connor followed his friend's gaze and saw the potted plant. He had no idea what about the plant could have caught Harry's attention. The dark-haired boy had now started to mutter feverishly intelligible words and he seemed to be losing his balance. Spike hurried to catch him.

'Kiddo, I'm takin' you to the loo, where your godfather's gonna give you a bath, okay?'

Spike and Connor waited in the kitchen as Sirius, who thanks to Merlin had already prepared the bath, took care of Harry. Spike put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

'Don't worry, Pigeon. Scarface's gonna be all right – he was just hallucinating a lil' bit 'cause of the fever.'

Connor nodded, trying to look unconcerned, but the truth was that the episode had freaked him out a little. Harry'd seemed possessed or something, and also to be in a great amount of pain. Perhaps that was why he still felt shaken and had even begun to eye the innocent-looking potted plant suspiciously. Had it looked that big before or was it just his imagination...?

'What happens if the fever doesn't go down?' he inquired, a little too anxiously to sound natural. Spike eyed him a moment, probably seeing though his cool facade, and smiled as he ruffled the boy's hair.

'It'll go down, Pigeon. Nobody dies of a bloody fever anymore, kiddo.' Seeing that he didn't look altogether ressured, he added 'What 'bout resumin' our game? Like hell I'll let you win that easily.'

Connor laughed at this and accepted at once. The chances Spike had of beating him were very close to zero.

As Darla wasn't there to scold them, Connor and Spike raced to the couch and jumped on it, bouncing and laughing as they grabbed the joysticks. Before resuming their game, though, Connor cast one dubious glance at the plant. It did look bigger, as if its stems had enlarged or something...

Connor, you have far too much imagination, a voice said in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded a little like Severus'.

Without sparing the plant another thought, he focused all his attention on the screen and in wiping Spike's Street Fighter off it.

Fifteen minutes later, Sirius resurfaced from the bedroom he shared with Harry, looking weary but also somewhat relieved. Spike and Connor paused their game at once and craned their necks to face him.

'How's Harry?'

Sirius smiled tiredly at Connor. 'The fever's going down. Now he's sound asleep – he needs the rest...'

The man sat with them and watched their game without interest. Connor and Spike focused their attention back to the screen. Somehow Connor had gotten stuck with the girl with the absurd pompoms in her head; all the same, he was kicking Spike's butt.

'Hey, was your mother's plant that big?'

Connor looked up and frowned. Had it looked that large ten minutes ago?

'Ha, can't believe you fell for that,' Spike exclaimed in triumph, and Connor could see how the silly girl was being beaten up unmercilessly. Bollocks!

Another fifteen minutes passed, during which Sirius went at least two times to check on Harry, who was still sleeping peacefully, the fever almost gone. Suddenly, a cracking sound that did not came from the violent game caught Spike's and Connor's attention. They looked up and their jaws fell open in horror, as the joysticks slipped from their hands.

The cracking sound had been produced by a leg of one of the dinner table chairs splitting in two, which was provoked by a long, green tentacle. Shocked, Connor realised it was one of the potted plant's stems – althouth now it was as thick as one of Spike's arms. Before their widened eyes, the stem twisted around the chair, triturating it to little pieces. As one stalk was still tearing the chair into pieces, another one proceeded to seize a second chair. Connor blinked and followed the stem with his gaze until he reached the potted plant... although it no longer looked like a potted plant. Its leaves were thrice its previous size and, along with the stems, now they covered at least a half of the wall where the shelf on which the plant had formerly stood was.

'What the...?' Spike turned to face Connor. 'Pigeon, you know 'bout this stuff... is it a cursed plant or something?'

Connor frowned. 'No... it was a Muggle plant, I'm sure of it...' Truth to be told, Connor was terrible at Herbology, but he reasoned that even a two-year-old would be able to distinguish between a ficus and a magical plant. Then he remembered something.

'Harry! He pointed at it and said something... it must have been some sort of uncounscious magic...'

'Bloody marvellous. Nice kid, lil' Scarface,' Spike said grimly. A smashing sound was heard and they both winced; aghast, Connor saw how his mother's colourful vases, that were in a shelf not far from the plant, had just been shattered. She wasn't going to be happy...

CRACK.

They turned to see the second chair splitting in two. They exchanged a glance.

'Well, I s'pose there's only one thin' left to do...'

'BLACK,' they both screamed at the top of their lungs. Sirius, who'd gone for the third time to check on Harry, surfaced looking rather murderous.

'What do you think you're doing, yelling like that? Harry's asleep...' His voice, though, tailed off when he saw the bizarre scene that was taking place before his eyes. He stood still for a moment, in shock, as the stems spread over the floor and walls, whereas the leaves seemed to increase their size with every passing second.

'Scarface did it,' Spike offered, as Sirius appeared to be unable to speak. He recovered soon, though.

'OK, I think this can be easily fixed...' he said, although Connor couldn't help noticing he didn't look half as confident as he tried to sound. Sirius walked past them, stood in front of the plant and withdrew his wand from his pocket.

'Finitem Incatatem!,' he bellowed impressively. Connor and Spike watched expectantly, but seconds passed by and the plant kept growing larger. Sirius frowned.

'All right, that didn't turn out well. Let's see.'

He pronounced another incatation, one Connor did not know. A red spark hit the core of the plant, blasting the pot, its pieces flying everywhere... but the plant remained unharmed. Alarmed, Connor noted that the stems were getting closer to the armchair was next to him.

'OK, 'nuff is 'nuff.'

Spike jumped over the couch, strode towards the breakfast table, jumped over it as well and launched himself towards the drawers where his mother kept cooking utensils. When Spike was at his side again, which happened in only a mere second, Connor saw he was holding the largest knife his mother possessed. Before Sirius or Connor could stop him, Spike proceeded to start chopping all the stems that were the closest to him.

'See, Black? I'm no warlock, but my method is more effective than yours,' he said smugly. Sirius opened his mouth to reply...

'Watch out, Spike!'

At Connor's cry, he turned and saw a stem closing in his anckle.

'Bollocks!'

He sliced it smoothly and smiled, relieved... only to see how the now two separate parts of the stem stuck back together, growing even thicker and larger. Spike jumped as another long green arm tried to get hold of him, but now the stalks acted as though they were tentacles and were able to rise from the floor to attack. When one of them was mere inches away from Spike's waist, a snapping sound was heard and the stalk fell to the floor, dead. Both Connor and Spike turned to see Sirius holding his wand high, a triumphal look on his face.

'Whose method works now, Spike?'

However, there were so many stems sprouting from the plant now that even Sirius' spell and Spike's knife couldn't keep them at bay. Seeing how the damned plant was winning over half of the room, Connor rushed to his bedroom, grabbed an old Beater bat and dashed back into battlefield. With Spike by his side, Connor began stricking every part of the plant he could reach, always careful to stay away from its grip. Sirius, meanwhile, tried every spell he could think of with no apparent success.

'I know there must be something for this... if only I could remember it...'

All around them was a mayhem: vases were getting smashed, the curtains were ripped in pieces that fell flatly to the ground; thinner stems had entwined around the dinning table, and for a split second darkness fell upon them, as one of those damned green tentacles seized the ceiling lamp. Fortunately, Sirius shot a well-aimed hex at it and the light returned. Although, Connor thought bitterly, it didn't make much of a difference: the air was filled with dust that prevented them from seeing much, and it seemed like the world around them had turned completely green.

Connor jumped to avoid the grip of a green tentacle, swirled and striked with his bat once and again. At his side, Spike brandished the knife as if it were an axe, swinging it and chopping all the stems he could reach. Connor caught something by the corner of his eye that made him turn round and groan: a thick, dark stalk was slithering over the wooden floor, going straight to the TV set. His eyes narrowed as he saw the tentacle approaching the video game box...

'No way in sodding hell,' he growled. 'You may destroy my house, but like hell I'll let you touch my Nintendo!'

He jumped over the coffee table, nearly knocking it over, fell on the floor and almost tripped when one of his feet slipped after landing on a slithering stalk. He regained his balance, swirled and saw the infuriating green tentacle, that was as thick as his arm, getting closer to the Nintendo. Furious, he raised the bat, which he was seizing with both his arms, over his head and struck. The damned thing kept sliding, imperturbable. Connor raised the bat and striked again and again, until he reduced the stalk into pulp. Panting, he smirked.

'I'm not going to be beaten up by a sodding plant... aaaaargh!'

A tendril had circled his anckles, tightened its grip and made him fall to the floor on his face. The bat slipped from his hands and rolled away from him, as Connor tried to rise to his feet only to fall again. Horrified, he saw how the plant had circled his legs and was going upwards, until he felt its tight grip on his chest. He tried to fight it, but soon his arms were wrapped as well and his whole body was slowly being immobilized. He struggled, feeling how the oxygen abandoned his lungs. He opened his mouth to cry for help, but a bunch of leaves got into it.

'Hmph!'

Spike turned around, his eyes widening.

'Bollocks!'

He ran towards Connor, fell on his knees and began cutting the green tendrils and stems that had curled around him, unsuccesfully.

'Relashio!'

Connor felt how the plant loosened its grip on him as his chest expanded and great gulps of breath filled his lungs. With watery eyes he saw Sirius, who'd turned to help him when he'd realised what was going on, had once more focused his attention on the plant. Connor felt how Spike seized him by under his shoulders and helped him to stand up.

'You alright, Pigeon?'

Connor nodded, still gulping for air. He watched Sirius' vain attempts to tame the plant, vanish it or detroy it, all of them failing. Making up his mind, he grabbed Spike's arm.

'Spike, don't you think... don't you think it's time I call Severus for help?'

The man frowned.

'Kiddo, there's no way we can contact him now... he's got no phone...'

'I can. He gave me something to do so – a two-way-mirror.' At Spike's look of incomprehension, Connor, exasperated, added: 'It's a device to communicate at once – like one of those little phones you carry with you...'

'A mobile?'

'Yeah, whatever. Look, shouldn't I call him?'

Spike shook his head softly. 'Dunno, Pigeon. It might hurt Sirius' feelings.'

In that moment, one of the armchairs was upturned. Connor and Spike turned to look at it, and they saw how a zillion tendrils were tearing apart the cushions. With his eyes still fixed on the armchair, Connor softly said:

'Spike... have you thought what Mum's going to say when she sees this?'

There was a moment of silence. Connor darted a glance at Spike, but his eyes remained fixed on the armchair and his face was unreadable. Suddenly, he turned to face Connor, looking impatient.

'What are you waiting for? Go and call Severus already!

'But you said... Sirius' feelings...'

'Sirius? I know no Sirius. Go and get help!'

Connor didn't need to be told twice. He ran all the way to his bedroom, which remained unharmed, launched himself to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer, so hard that it fell to the floor.

'Damn!'

He soon found the small package he was looking for. He unwrapped it with fumbling fingers and retrieved a plain mirror.

The day he'd taken Connor to his mother's place, Severus had asked the boy to write him every single day, and then he'd given him the mirror. He'd explained that it would communicate with an identical mirror he possessed, and that he should use it during an emergency. Connor had been slightly dumbfounded, wondering whether Severus expected him to be murdered in his bed or something. Now, though, Connor couldn't have felt more grateful.

'Severus! Severus, it's me!'

Connor's reflection melted, and soon his features turned into the familiar face of Severus'.

'Connor? What is the matter?'

The boy thought he'd never felt so relieved to hear that familiar voice.

'Severus, things have gone to hell here. Harry's cursed Mum's plant – don't know what he did to it, but now the plant's alive and it's attacking us. Sirius' trying to stop it, but he can't find the right spell, and the plant is tearing the whole place apart, Mum's going to kill us, and please, please come and save us.'

Severus' expression was blank.

'A Muggle plant is attacking you? Connor, if this is your idea of a joke...'

Connor opened the door of his bedroom, stretched out his arm and put the mirror so it would face the mayhem that was taking place at the living room. After a few seconds, he turned the mirror to him. Severus face was grave.

'I will be there in a moment.'

Before Connor could add anything else, Severus' face vanished and Connor found himself staring at his own reflection.

'YES!'

When Connor returned to the living room, he saw Sirius wearing a triumphal look on his face.

'I knew that some variation of the freezing spell had to work...'

And sure enough, the plant had stopped growing or attacking stuff and now lay flat and motionless. Spike turned a still tendril with his foot, looking dubious.

'Are you sure it's over?'

Before Sirius could reply, the front door opened.

'Finally,' Connor exclaimed and he rushed to the door. However, when he reached the doorframe, he saw Severus wasn't standing there alone.

'Mum? Why are you here...?' He turned to Severus, alarmed. 'Did you call her?'

'No,' his mum replied instead, 'I came earlier to check on Harry, and I just happened to find Severus in the hall. He tells me you said a plant was attacking you...' She broke in mid-sentence when, over Connor's shoulder, her eyes met the disaster her house had turned into. 'What the hell...?' Her jaw fell open.

Connor followed her gaze and thought he could not blame her for the horrified expression on her face. Half of her beloved flat, which had taken her years to decorate it the way she wanted, now resembled the ruins of a battlefield or a remake of Jumanji.

'One hour,' she hissed when she'd finally found her voice, 'I leave you in charge, Black, for one single hour, and when I return my home's turned into Kosovo!'

Her eyes were flashing with anger and Spike and Connor, who knew her better, took a step backwards. Sirius, on the other hand, wasn't wise or quick enough.

'Hey, it wasn't my fault, OK?'

Seeing that his mother seemed ready to jump at his throat, Connor hastened to intervene.

'Mum, it's true, it wasn't Sirius' fault.'

And he proceeded to explain what had happened with Harry and the plant. As she heard Connor's tale, her anger turned into worry over Harry's state, then relief, and finally, with one last look at the wreckage around her, resignation.

'Guess the insurance company isn't gonna pay for this, huh?' She turned to Severus. 'I guess there's nowhere in that magical goverment of yours where I could report this to get my money back...'

Sirius was indignant.

'You aren't going to turn Harry in!'

She seemed surprised.

'Of course not, poor devil.' Darla looked at him with a cool, calculating look in her eyes. 'As the minor's legal guardian, I was thinking of turning you in.'

Sirius opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water gulping for air. Connor took pity on him.

'Mum, he managed to stop the plant from growing... it had begun to attack us...'

'We can all see for ourselves the astounding results of Mr. Black's brilliant job at taming a plant, Connor.'

Sirius shot a murderous glare at Severus, then turned to Connor.

'What did you have to call him for? Didn't you think I'd be able to handle it by myself?'

The honest answer was 'no', but Connor thought it would be insensitive – not to say unwise – to give it, so he remained silent. His feelings must have showed on his face, as Sirius turned his face from him, looking quite offended.

'Gentlemen, please,' Darla hissed and gave Spike an eloquent look. At once, Connor felt the weight of the man's hand on his shoulder.

'C'mon, Pigeon. Let's go to check on Scarface. He'll need some company...'

'But he's asleep!'

'All the more reason to check on him. Imagine he gets another bloody nightmare...'

-

Darla rubbed her temples. This was the worst headache she'd had in ages. And it promised to get worse.

Her home, at least, had returned to its normal state. The damned plant was vanished, and between Black and Severus they'd managed to put right all that had been broken or shattered. One could almost believe that nothing abnormal had taken place. Almost.

Of course, Severus and Black had bickered all the time they'd been working. Mostly, they had been making wry comments under their breaths so Darla would not hear them, which was incredibly foolish on their part, as her superb hearing prevented her from missing anything. She didn't understand half of what they said, anyway, as they kept making references to a past only they knew. At first she'd ignored them, seeking refuge in the kitchen area, which had remained miraculously whole and unscathed, where she'd prepared herself a steaming cup of tea.

'It will never cease to amaze me the stupidity of certain people. I mean, I am not surprised that Potter could be idiotic enough to choose you as his offspring's legal guardian, but one would have thought that his wife could have showed more common sense. Or that at least Albus would have.'

'Shut up, you disgusting grease slime ball... How you dare to call James and idiot, you were always so envious of him...'

Okey, so enough was enough.

Darla left her her now empty cup on the breakfast table, rose from the stool and headed towards them.

'Gentlemen, please stop this now.'

They turned to glare at her, both of them looking equally pissed off at the interruption.

'Darla,' Black hissed, 'this is none of your business. Stay out of it.'

And then, he committed the stupidest mistake of his life: he proceeded to put a hand on her shoulder to push her out of the way. Darla, though, had other ideas.

She grabbed Black's wrist and, with one smooth movement of her delicate hand, twisted it.

Black's eyes widened, as his face grew several shades paler and he let out a gasp of both shock and pain. Darla released his wrist, which Black hastened to rub with his other hand, his eyes still as round as saucers.

'Don't be such a sissy, Black. It's not broken.'

Behind her, Severus sniggered... but his sniggering soon died away when her elbow mad full impact with his stomach. All the air was pulled out from his lungs, making him to bend in two.

Darla took a step backwards and observed the two men, who were now glaring at her, a mixed expression of rage and pain on their faces. Once she was certain she'd caught their full attention, she spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

'Listen up, gentlemen, Listen very carefully. I'm not nice. I'm not gentle. And I don't repeat things twice. I told you I would tolerate no bickering in my house. I don't care whether Severus murdered your teddy bear, Black; or whether Black shagged the girl you wanted to take to the dance, Severus. Whichever problem you have, you solve it outside, far away from the children's or mine's earshot. Have I made myself fully clear?'

For a moment, it seemed like both of them would have liked to protest, or even to curse her into next week. However, when their eyes met hers, the rage in theirs subsided, to be slowly replaced with a feeling Darla recognised at once, having provoked it so many times before: fear.

'From now on, you'll try to pretend you are civilized people. Otherwise,' her tone dropped yet another octave, 'next time, you'll hit the hospital.'

And with that, she turned on her heels and headed to Harry's room, to check how the poor boy was doing.

A day later, Harry was fully recovered and quite shocked at the mayhem that had taken place while he slept soundly.

'Yeah, you missed all the fun, Scarface.'

Connor turned to glare at Spike. He could hardly think of nearly being killed by a plant as 'fun'. Spike, though, had a twisted sense of humour.

'I really did that,' Harry said, astounded. 'I don't remember anything.'

'Well, you nearly got all of us killed, Scarface, but don't feel guilty.'

Connor shot a pillow at Spike, who ducked just in time. The pillow hit the door, which opened a second later to reveal a very tired-looking Darla.

'I've just eliminated anything remotely vegetable in the house,' she informed them gravely. 'From now on, plastic flowers will do.'

Thanks to pottersparky and all those who read but couldn't leave reviews. In next chapter, the coexistence between Sirius and Connor will know some great obstacles...