I'd like to apologize for the long absence, my computer broke and took the first 20 chapters and 5 side stories (150,000+ words) with it. I only got a new computer recently and have most of chapters 2-10 set (they need some final tweaks and to be read through but they should update every month (maybe sooner, but no promises)). Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me. Also, i do read the comments so if you have an idea/request feel free to leave it cause it might make it into the story.

Chapter has been edited for easier reading experience. Thanks Kneazle for the heads up!

Grimmauld Place

Crack!

The sound of apparition splits the air as Orion and his son arrive on the front porch of 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius appears pale and shaken, Orion notes, keeping a firm grasp on his son, the stress and strain of the day finally catching up to him. Luckily, he only appears to be exhausted and not hurt. There would be hell to pay if he'd had so much as a scratch on him. There likely still would be, Orion has never been a man to do things by halves.

Turning with his son still in hand, Orion raps the front door with his cane thrice. He makes the mistake of shifting his weight as he waits, nearly sending himself to the ground when he does. His bad leg is by now burning all the way from knee to the hip, the expanse below has grown stiff and numb, almost wooden, feeling closer to the limbs of a dead man than to one living. Nothing new there, but Orion will need to apply his ointment soon or he's likely to be bedridden for days (mostly because Walburga isn't afraid to tie him to the headboard and leave him there to go about her day, if she thinks he is 'overextending himself again').

Despite his pain, he remains upright, unwilling to release his son when he is in such a state or show weakness at such a time. Sirius had remained mostly collected while they were in the park, likely from shock, but that would not last long.

The front door creaks as Kreacher finally arrives to open it.

"Master Orion, Young Master Sirius. Mistress Walburga wishes Kreacher to tells you she be waiting in the Drawing Room for your return."

The elf bows and ushers Orion and his son into the manor. Naturally, Walburga is already waiting for them to get home. Comes Orion's thoughts unbidden. They are nearly two hours late. Walburga had likely come home right after a light lunch at her brother's house and it is nearly Tea now.

"Inform my wife I will be there in just a moment," comes Orion's reply. Kreacher bows once more, then disappears with a quiet pop. "Sirius, son, " Orion looks down to his son, who raises his head, eyes slowly, haltingly, trailing upwards to meet his father's gaze, "It's been a long day, how about you go get some rest. We can talk about what happened tomorrow." His son nods, exhausted relief showing on his face as his once tense shoulders collapse in on him. The sight strikes something in Orion, a phantom thing part pain, part longing.

In a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness Orion pulls his son to him and holds him there with his free arm, willing as much comfort as he can into the gesture. Sirius stand stiff for a second, unused to his Father's embrace, then wraps his small arms around his father's good leg and sags into the, quite literally, one-sided embrace. When he finally pulls away his eyes are wet again, but look decidedly less dead than they had just minutes before.

Both father and son trudge their way up the entrance hall stairs. Orion stops on the second floor and waits to make sure his son makes it up to the third and into the nursery before heading down the hall and into the Drawing Room.

Upon entering the room Orion finds Kreacher serving his wife tea at the small side table corned between their two armchairs. His wife is wearing a simple but elegant gown of silver-grey and lavender with violet stitching fit for the warm weather outside. The gown is one of her favorites, she's owned one version or another of it since they'd gotten married years before, only ever retiring one dress when she has another version commissioned in the newest fashion trend. It drives her seamstress mad, not that Orion is complaining, he has seen what the other society witches wear. The robes are cut to show off his wife's willowy figure and emphasized her Black family Stormy Blue-grey eyes (in contrast to his own Slate-grey, though both are known characteristics of their House) and her unique blonde hair with inky midnight streaks along her temples.

His wife's appearance has captured the attention of many, whether it was the boys in class when they'd gone to school at Hogwarts, other Heirs of Great Houses, various cousins near-and-far, or even foreign dignitaries at ministry galas. Defending his then-cousin-now-wife's 'honor' from his classmates had landed him several detentions and had been one of the reasons he'd taken up dueling. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it, Walburga is a notorious tease, most just didn't realise it because the woman was subtle enough that even their fellow slytherins hadn't known they were being worked over.

It was a game for them. Walburga would enthrall some poor sap (not really poor considering she only chose talented wizards from affluent families) and Orion would teach them that, like Icarus, they had flown too close to the sun. Such things had ended with the near loss of his leg that had led to the end of his dueling career.

Walburga looks up at his intrusion and scrutinizes her husband. She is not pleased in her findings if the squinting eyes, flared nostrils, and the grim set of her mouth are anything to go by. His wife plucks her wand from the side table and flicks it at him twice mumbling under her breathe before replacing it on the table. The feeling of a light breeze and the strong smell of soap tell him his wife has cast a Freshening Charm and a Scourgify on him.

He must have looked worse than he thought. He'd come out of hours long duels without his wife needing to 'scrub him down' before allowing him near her. Then again Walburga had enjoyed his dueling as much as he had and had often initiated her own 'duel' not long after.

The thought is almost enough to make him laugh.

"I've sent Sirius to bed, he's had a long day. He'll need a calming draught and dreamless sleep potion." He spoke, his words meant for both his wife and Kreacher. Kreacher bows and pops away, knowing that he has been given an order to care for his Young Master, and dismissal from the coming conversation. He will not return to the drawing room until he is called.

"A long day?" Walburga starts, pouring him tea as he seats himself in the armchair adjacent to hers. Her words are polite but he knows his wife well enough to taste the derision in them, even if it cannot be heard, "You have been gone a long time, My Lord."

Walburga only refers to him as 'My Lord' when she is either very, very pleased with him or very, very not. He hopes she hasn't poisoned his tea. Again.

"What kept you?" she inquires lightly, belying the dangerous look in her eyes. Correction, he hopes it was only a mild poison or slow acting enough he can get himself an antidote or at least a bezoar. The Gods knew Kreacher would only make things worse in order to garner his wife's favor.

Orion let out a sigh of exhaustion.

"It's a long story. And I don't yet have all of the details myself, but you deserve to know. Sirius ran off while we were in Knockturn," Walburga seems to freeze at this, "by the time I knew he was gone he had slipped out into the muggle world."

Her eyes are wide and she clenches her jaw so tight he thinks he can hear something, possibly her teeth, cracking.

"He had somehow made his way to a park near the Jameson estate,"

CrAck

"and was being entertained by a girl around his age and her father."

She says nothing, though neither of them are happy about the idea of their son interacting with muggles.

"Then some vile Bastard that had spotted him tried to rob and assault him,"

Crack~Crack~Crack

"the man with the daughter, William, tried to protect him. By the time I arrived the man was bruised, broken, and lying in a pool of his own blood."

CracK

"Sirius was standing guard over the man, he'd used his magic to take the other man, Davon, out."

The smile that curves its way across her face has too much teeth, it looks like a threat.

Maybe it is.

"I checked over Sirius then healed the man, William, without being too obvious, made sure the girl was safe and brought Sirius home. He's mostly unharmed, but seeing the muggle that was defending him nearly get murdered has definitely upset him. We'll need to talk to him in the morning, for now he needs his rest."

Orion sags back into his seat, just telling his wife the basics of their day has taken most of his remaining energy. He feels aged somehow. Tomorrow's discussion will likely be far worse.

Walburga eyes him critically over her tea and purses her lips, seeming to contemplate something and then passes her husband a scone from the small platter between them. "You need your rest as well," his wife says quietly, simply, before rising from her chair and gliding towards the door.

The 'My Lord' is gone, that's a good sign, Orion thinks. The scone is hopefully the antidote to whichever concoction is in the tea.

"I will check on the nursery, and see to anything that needs immediate attention. Get some sleep" are his wife's last words before slipping out of the door and up towards the Nursery and their sleeping sons.

Crack

Orion turns to find Walburga's teacup resting perched on its saucer. There are fine spindly cracks coating its entirety.

Crack

A miniscule flare of magic, mere residue left behind by his wife's touch, races along the cup before entering the saucer, decorating it too, in cracks.

Crack~Crack

Both cup and saucer crumble in on themselves, like an ancient ruin being devoured by an earthquake. It feels as ominous. Walburga has not lost such control in years.

Tomorrow will definitely be worse.

In the Nursery

Upon trudging through the door to the nursery Sirius goes straight to Regulus's crib to assure himself that his little brother is still safe and sound. There is no need to as it was not Regulus who had gotten himself lost in the muggle world. But fear left little room for rationality, and the Blacks have always been a protective and possessive lot on a good day.

Regulus for his part remains sleeping even as his older brother crawls up into his admittedly ~indulgently~ large crib and proceeds to pet and stroke him wherever he can reach . The only indication Regulus gives that he is even aware of his brother's presence is when he manages to grab hold of a lock of Sirius's hair, forcing his brother to crawl closer or suffer his rather formidable grip. Regulus, known for being the best behaved baby in at least the last four generations of the House of Black (everyone said so), has a herculean grip and Will. Not. Let. Go. It is so bad that a previous governess had once had to sever one of her own locks to get free when he kicked up a particularly large fuss. She was, of course, immediately fired. For if Regulus did not like her then she was not to be trusted. (They were proven correct when Kreacher caught her stealing on her way out, not that he stopped her, the anti-theft curse activated the moment she crossed into the floo and sent her straight into the admitting area of the ministry holding cells).

For once Sirius does not begrudge his little brother his hair pulling ways. The tiny sharp pain is enough to ground him for the time being.

Eventually, an eternity -or maybe only a moment- later Kreacher arrives bearing a set of potions. The normally cantankerous elf says nothing about Sirius being in his brother's crib (though he is technically forbidden from being in it). With the help of some rather impressive bends and gymnastic feats (as Regulus has yet to relinquish his hold) Sirius is able to down the two potions.

Sirius is fast asleep by the time the time his Mother arrives to check on him and his brother. Walburga reaches the crib in a few long strides, her hands immediately seeking to assure herself that her son is alright. She may not be the most loving mother, but she cares for her sons in her own ways.

Sure that her son is unharmed, she takes it upon herself to ensure that he is safe. Walburga raises her wand into the air and silently activates the most powerful wards their home and lands have. Nothing, no spell nor ministry official, will sense what she does next. And for good reason. The next spell is a secret that only Walburga, her brothers, and her husband know of. And an unbreakable vow ensures that none of them will ever speak of it.

Taking in a deep breath Walburga pulls all of her magic into herself, this spell has no words, no wand movements, only will and intent. As she breathes out she releases it all, letting every bit of magic out, pouring out of her body, wrapping around her family, crawling up and over the walls of her home, cascading out into the surrounding lands before pulsing out across the wards and the world beyond. Should anyone or anything try to come near her family they will be unmade.

In his en suite, seeing to his cursed wound, Orion shifts, his poise changing to something ethereal and predatory. His wife's magic evoking a rumbling purr from his throat. In his home half the country away Cygnus Black's face splits into a grin with too many teeth, his eyes glint with malice, a business associate he had invited over for drinks immediately agrees to his terms and signs a contract, then makes his excuses to leave as quickly as possible. In France, Alphard Black bursts into cruel, barking laughter. The young socialite who had been attempting to 'seduce' him looks affronted, then fearful before scurrying away from the eldest Black son, whom the family madness clearly hadn't skipped, as so many had believed.

More than a thousand kilometers apart both Black Brothers toast to the health and longevity of the House of Black and their Lady sister, long may she reign.

Brief interlude: That Night

It was on a very rare occasion that anything dares to wake the Lord and Lady of the House of Black while they slept. Nobody is stupid enough to Floo call that late and Apparition doesn't work unless you are keyed into the wards. And if some fool does manage to make it to the house Kreacher will happily toss them out on their arse, with some obscure elf curse added in for good measure.

So when something comes scrounging up Orion and Walburga Black's sheets in the early hours of the morning both could honestly say they are more than a little startled. It is a combination of good instincts, an ability to recognize familial magic, and sheer dumb luck that ensures young Sirius is met with his parents inquisitive, sleep addled looks and not the ends of their wands.

Upon realizing his parents are, in fact, awake Sirius freezes, his face reminiscent of the time he'd been caught sneaking sweets from Uncle Alphard's pantry.

"Sorry", he whispers, eyes downcast. He knows he's not to come into his parents' rooms unless it is an emergency.

Orion's eyes drift to his wife's, a silent agreement passes between them. This IS an emergency. Their son needs them, tonight is not a night to be left alone, no 'lesson in growing up' as they'd been raised.

It is Walburga who extends her hand and pulls their son up to rest between them, though neither parent cuddle their son each rest a hand on him, an anchor to ground him.

"Bright Star, you will always be safe with us. Never forget that."

Sniffling Sirius curls down to sleep, surrounded on both sides by the protective embrace of his parents and soothed to sleep by their formidable magics.

Didn't want Kreacher to sound too much like how jk writes house elf speech. It sounds too much like the old Uncle/Mammi tropes, which were horribly racist and leave me uncomfortable to even listen to. So instead elves will have issues with verb tenses (the idea is that elves think differently than wix do, especially when it comes to time or pronouns). Also, house elves are going to be more than slaves/stereotypes, and more like how elves/brownies are in mythology. Creatures who sifon off magic and in return offer aid.