A/N: And here is the next chapter! It took a little longer than expected, but I hope it's worth the wait! So this is Sirius' uncle, who got burned off the Black Family Tree because "he gave gold to his runaway nephew." Sirius, I presumed. So I thought that I would do a piece on him, and the incident where Sirius get this money. Read and review!

Disclaimer: JKR I am not.

Alphard Black

Givers of Gold

You lean back in your chair, comfortable in the silence of your rooms. A book lies on the table in front of you, and you smooth out the wrinkles in yesterday's copy of The Daily Prophet. You sigh. The day is too long, and you ache from the worries of your job at the Ministry. You wish that you could somehow avoid your brother-in-law, but it seems that every way you turn, his face is there, sneering. You can't remember a time when you ever liked Orion, but you can remember the vague satisfaction you got when you learned who your sister was marrying.

A nobody.

You grin now, just thinking of it, and clap your hands together in joy. You see your sister's face before you suddenly: the old, withered face that sags with premature age, the wrinkles furrowing her brow. The steel in her eyes is the only thing that she kept from her youth.

You tire of the paper lying on your lap, and you toss it over your shoulder. Alastor catches it in his mouth, thinking you want to play. "Go away, you stupid dog!" you yell, listening carefully for the tell-tale signs that the dog has left. The jingle of his collar provide adequate proof.

Running one hand through your hair so that it stands on end, you stand. "Time for bed, I think," you announce to the empty room. Merlin, you need to make some friends. Or get a mistress. Something. You're not sure how many more lonely nights you can take.

After all, this silence is nothing like the nights of your childhood, which were always filled with screams of children, and the cackling of the fire, and the low voices that carried over from your father's study. You wonder how much has changed at Grimmauld Place. It's been years since you visited your sister and her family. Years since you've seen your childhood home.

There is a knocking at the door.

"Damn," you hiss as you climb over the couch. "Who could that be?" Alastor barks quickly, sitting up and wagging his tail. "I need to stop talking to myself," you mutter. You've reached the door. Looking out to see who is on the other side of the wood, you are surprised to see your nephew. You throw open the door.

"Sirius!"

The sixteen year old grins sheepishly. "Hello, Uncle," he replies. "Could—do you think that I could stay here for a bit?"

You rub the stubble on your chin. "Now, why would you need to stay here? You've got a fine home at Grimmauld Place."

Sirius turns his face away from yours, and refuses to meet your eyes. He shuffles his feet. You sigh. "A fight again?" you ask as gently as you can. Merlin knows you aren't the paternal type—just one of the reasons you never married and never had children. You couldn't deal with it. You just weren't capable.

"Merlin, Sirius," you growl when he nods in answer. "And what do you expect me to do? Keep you here for a few days until someone comes looking for you? I won't do it again, damn it, I won't! I'm tired of hiding you, of waiting for a break in the arguments. I've got a job, and work, and . . . " you trail off quickly, realizing how pathetic it sounds.

Sirius lifts his face, the stubborn arrogant teenaged look replaced with one that is desperate and scared. "Please, Uncle," he pleads quietly. "Just for tonight. Then I'll be off. I swear on Grandfather Sirius' ghost and grave." It is a solemn oath in the Black Family, to swear on the patriarch's soul. Sacred, even. You have no choice.

"Only because I like you," you say. "Don't think I'd do this for just anybody, especially those cousins of yours."

Sirius' face breaks into a large grin. "Thank you, Uncle, thank you! You won't regret this!"

"Come on, then," you say gruffly. "Let's get you situated. I think there might be an extra set of sheets upstairs."

Obediently, Sirius follows you, rather like Alastor does when he is feeling particularly happy with you.

You wave your wand, setting up the bed, and stare at your nephew. "Well?" you ask.

Sirius just shakes his head. "Thank you," he repeats from earlier. He seems so happy with this small act of kindness, but why wouldn't he be? You remember what it was like being a younger brother to the cruel Walburga, and you doubt motherhood had softened her temper or her hand.

"Just—have a good night, alright?" you mumble after a few moments of silence.

"Yes. Yes, good night." Sirius puts his single bag down on the side table. "Good night."

You make sure to leave a small pouch in his bag the next morning. It doesn't have a lot of money—you are short on gold yourself. But it's enough. Enough for a few meals, and a night or two at an inn. Enough to get him away. Because you know, in the bottom of your heart, that someone deserves to be free from this family. And you can't think of a better candidate than young Sirius.

So you will do what you can. You will give him gold, and you will lie when Orion or Walburga or even Regulus come to retrieve him. You will let him go, to find his own place in the world, to make a name for himself that is not tied eternally with the Black Family.

Sirius is so much like you. And you wish there had been a kind uncle to give you gold and a place to stay.

Because Merlin knows you could have used it.

And, when the time comes, he will owe you. And maybe, just maybe, you too will find the freedom.