Chapter 3

James was starting to get worried. Sirius hadn't turned up for debriefing from the raid they'd done the other night. Of course, being in law enforcement, he'd heard about the incident with Remus and his brother getting arrested, but hadn't thought Sirius would have been too badly off because of it.
In all honesty, James had kind of expected Sirius to storm in, shout at one or both of the werewolves, flash around his bottle of muggle ink for a bit, and then refuse to bail either out if they'd dared ask. But since that hadn't happened, James was heading to Sirius's apartment and hoping his friend was okay.

Unfortunately, things weren't looking too promising. There was glass strewn across the landing, and a stale whiskey smell permeated the air. The door was ajar, and there seemed to be a broken piece of cabinetry stopping it from closing properly. He was kind of glad Sirius had no neighbours, up in the penthouse. That's all they needed, nosy muggles. However, maybe a neighbour or two would know what had actually happened at the apartment yesterday.

The first thing James saw, carefully pushing the door further open, was a trail of broken glass and destruction, picture frames and posters torn from the walls and some rather suspicious looking claw marks – definitely from a werewolf. The trail of devastation led directly to the kitchen, where the young auror saw a foot. A recognisably tattooed foot, connected to a jean-clad leg, which connected to the rest of one Sirius Orion Black.

The disgraced Black heir was laying sprawled amongst the ruins of what had once been the man's beloved Whiskey collection, at least two whole but empty vodka bottles, and several piles of vomit. His grey eyes were open but unfocused, muscles occasionally twitching uncoordinatedly.

"Shit! Sirius!" James swore, kneeling carelessly amongst the rubble and puddles, next to the form of his best friend. "What made you do this again?"

The last time James had seen his friend give himself alcohol poisoning was shortly after he'd realised what he'd almost done to Remus and Snape back in fifth year. The rest of the Marauders, with help from James' parents during the summers, had successfully kept Padfoot away from all forms of alcohol until shortly before their NEWTs, when Sirius had legally been able to buy the stuff for himself and they were all more concentrated on other things.
James had been endlessly glad that while Sirius had been drinking at his and Lily's wedding, it had not been to the state of excess where the rest of the guests could tell the man was a rather seasoned alcoholic.
Charlus Potter, James's father had blamed Orion Black, who was a heavy drinker himself as an escape from his deranged harpy of a wife-cousin.

Neither of the Black brothers had learned any positive life skills in that household. And now one was missing, presumed deceased, and the other would be too soon, if James couldn't get him to St Mungo's quickly.

Gathering his long-time friend into his arms, James closed his eyes, concentrated, and apparated away.

Sirius turned restlessly in his narrow hospital bed. He'd been in St Mungo's for four days now, and he wasn't due to be released for at least another three. Just until the Healers were happy with his progress in detoxing. Alcohol rehabilitation usually only took three days in hospital, then another month or two with strict observation and check-ups.
Due to Sirius's 'delicate condition' some of the potions were unsuitable, so he had a much longer recovery ahead. Mind, in the muggle world alcohol detox would take months just through the reduction phase, and going 'cold-turkey' could very well kill you. Needless to say, Sirius was very glad to be a wizard in a first-world country.

Somehow, throughout it all, the Black heir had kept his pregnancy and both he and his team of healers were rather focussed on keeping it that way. Sirius didn't care what Remus had shouted at him the last time they'd been in contact – he was still refusing read written messages from his ex-housemate, never mind accepting his visits. Sirius didn't even care that his mother was visiting that morning, shouting about his being a horrible son who didn't go through a proper betrothal and now was knocked up by a disgusting half-breed. None of them mattered because this was his, Sirius Orion Black III's, little puppy who would grow up to be healthy and happy and smart and cheeky and would probably be a canine animagus since all Blacks with the ability were.

It didn't even matter if Fenrir didn't come back for at least the pup, once he was released from The Tower. Well, Sirius was still trying to convince himself of that last one.

Finally Walburga seemed to have run out of steam for her tirade, because everyone knew she would never run out of insults and petty remarks. The woman huffed self-importantly, spun on her heel and marched out. Surprisingly Orion didn't immediately follow. The elderly man took a step closer to his eldest son and heir's bedside, before speaking for the first time now that his wife was no longer yelling.

"That child you carry is an heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Do not endanger the child's life again." Then he placed a small jewellery box on the bedside table, and left the room without another word.

Fingers shaking, Sirius picked up the box and opened it. Neatly presented on the white velvet was a baby bracelet, almost exactly the same as the one Sirius himself had worn as an infant. Before the traditional Heir's ring, which Sirius had worn from age eleven right to the present, a child was presented with a bracelet to show that the infant wearing it was in the direct line for the Lordship.

Unlike his own baby bracelet, this one was made from white gold, instead of the traditional silver – an obvious concession for the puppy's werewolf sire.
Sirius remained holding the delicate piece for a quite a while after.

Fenrir Greyback was tracking. Not one of his favoured pastimes, but he needed to find his rather reckless mate. He need to know whether his cub was surviving, or if Remus's prediction had already come tragically true.

The large werewolf had spent the last three months locked up at the Tower of London, where the wizarding world still had one of their gaols. Not one to waste time, he'd concentrated on 'networking' and solidifying his and his pack's presence in the criminal underworld. He'd recruited a few more werewolves to his causes, and even made an allegiance with a vampire coven. Not a large one admittedly, but still a step in the right direction.

Sirius's penthouse apartment had been cleaned out and abandoned months ago, so Fenrir had had to call in a favour. That had resulted in the man's current actions – tracking the ward line at back of the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow.

Now downwind of the dwelling, the light breeze was able to carry the scents of those in residence straight to the werewolf's sensitive nose. There was the Potter Auror, who he sometimes met with in his role as 'Alphard', a woman he'd never met, and his quarry – one Sirius Black. Now confirmed as being in the right place, Fenrir stepped right up to the ward line and placed one booted foot just over the edge. It wasn't enough to trigger the repellent parts of the ward structure, but would cause an annoying buzzing for the head of the household. The werewolf leaned back against a tree to wait.

Soon the late afternoon peace was split by the sound of careful footsteps. Careful for a human is easily audible for a werewolf. The stronger scent of James Potter identified Fenrir's 'greeter'.

"Move your damn foot." The wizard snapped, removing an invisibility cloak upon sighting the sire of Sirius's child.

"I'm here to see Sirius." Was the reply, though Fenrir did shift his boot off the boundary line. James took a commanding stance on the inside of his wards. He crossed his arms, wand still in full view, and attempted to stare down the intruding werewolf. Fenrir was un-phased.

"Fenrir Louis Grey, born 27th June 1949 to mother Eloisa Doreen Grey, and father Unknown; Unconfirmed half-blood. Unconfirmed date of lycanthropy infection November '66; officially dropped from the Hogwarts School Register that December, which lends credence against the ministry records provided by Albus Dumbledore. Changed surname to 'Greyback' through Gringott's in the later part of 1967 – recorded reason for change 'F.U'." Fenrir's eyebrows had been steadily rising throughout the wizard's speech, and at this point he snorted in amusement remembering the day. He still couldn't believe the goblin filing the papers had actually written that down.

"Achieved rank of pack 'Alpha' in March 1969, after refusing the kill the priestess of an opposing pack. When threatened, killed the previous Alpha and took control of both packs. Has to date spent nineteen months incarcerated for various minor offences. Current age 31, unemployed, registered address unplottable." James finished. "Did I miss anything?"

"You missed the part where I'm currently Mated. And you're standing in the way of letting me see him." Fenrir stated blandly, internally surprised there was so much information about himself available.

"I'll let you through the wards when I'm done threatening you." James coolly replied. "If I could find out all this with only a brief look and a few casual conversations, just imagine what I could find if I really investigated? You wouldn't be going to the Tower, you'd be in Azkaban." Fenrir finally stood up straight, standing nose-to-nose with the auror, with only the slightly luminescent wards separating them. James didn't flinch and stared straight into glowing amber eyes. "My best friend is Heir Apparent to a Lordship, and currently pregnant. For some reason he is determined to make sure you get a say in the Puppy's life despite your lack of social standing, or record of being a decent human being. You take your responsibility to Sirius seriously and keep your 'work' well away from him and my house, and we won't have any issues. Understand?"

Fenrir bared his pointed teeth threateningly, but nodded so that he could get invited across the wards. Inside he was excited to hear that his cub was still alive and growing, and that Sirius himself was okay. Unnoticed to him, James had seen the werewolf's eyes lighten at mention of the wizard's best friend and the baby. James waved his wand and Fenrir stepped through the wards. Not waiting for his host, the werewolf unerringly tracked through the brush towards the house.

It seemed like an odd match, a pureblood heir and a renegade werewolf, but hey, Sirius was a Black, and really that just explained everything as far as James was concerned.

Lily shrieked in surprise and defensively raised her wand. She'd turned around to pour the water for her afternoon tea, and there was a stranger standing in her kitchen doorway. Sirius came skidding into the room, wand already at the ready.

"Oh! Fenrir!" The wizard sighed in relief, "You almost gave me a heart attack Lils. Where's James?" The werewolf pointed negligently over his shoulder, where James Potter could just be seen through the kitchen door making his way back across the yard.

"Should you be running?" He asked of Sirius.

"Pfft. I'm not made of glass." The man refuted, and nodded for Fenrir to follow him further into the house. Fenrir did so with a smile too sharp to be considered friendly towards the shocked silent hostess.

"Maybe not." Fenrir answered, catching up. "But you're carrying my cub."

"Exactly!" Snapped Sirius, taking a seat on the bed in the Potter's spare room. "Being pregnant doesn't make me some shrinking violet."

The werewolf was unimpressed. "Got that out of your system now, Lovely?"

"No." The younger man sulked. "I can rain all over everyone's parades for hours yet."

"Tch. Got better things to do." Fenrir kneeled in front of the seated man, and pulled his jumper out of the way. At four and a bit months along there was a noticeable bump, in place of Sirius's normally trim waistline. With a hand cupping each side, the older man leaned forward placing his cheek against the other wizard's pregnant belly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, re-familiarising himself with his mate's smell.

Sirius sat feeling vaguely awkward, but somewhere still relieved to see the large werewolf again.

"So how long you hanging around for?" He broke the silence. Glowing amber eyes opened and focussed on Sirius's face.

"I've got business to take care of tonight, but all this afternoon, you're mine." Fenrir moved up, kneeling between Sirius' spread legs and laying the man across the bed. "Silence the room unless you want your friends to hear you."

"You're not exactly quiet either, you know?" Sirius reminded, taking his wand back out to apply the silencing charms.

"I don't care who hears me getting off." Fenrir shrugged. "And I'm rather proud when you're screaming my name."

Lily Potter sent her husband to collect his old school friend and his guest for dinner. Dutifully James headed up the hallway to the spare room that Sirius had been inhabiting the past three months while still under medical supervision. Not hearing any suspicious sounds, the wizard opened the door.

Fenrir Greyback was leaned against the headboard, Sirius kneeling astride the werewolf's hips. Large tanned and scarred hands helped the smaller wizard to rise and lower himself. Sirius leaned forward to catch Fenrir's mouth in a wet, tongue-full kiss.

James quickly shut the door again.

"Where's Padfoot and Greyback?" Lily asked, when James returned to the dining room alone.

"Ah, they're busy." The dark haired man prevaricated, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he avoided thinking of what he'd walked in on. Luckily for James, Lily got the idea and dropped the subject, dishing up for just James and herself.