Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Any other characterisation that you may notice belongs to the BBC, ACD, Moffat and co. I have taken a great deal of liberty with the inspirations but do please note that it has all been inspired, not stolen.

Author's Note: I am extremely sorry for the long time since the last update. Needless to say, I haven't given up on it and hopefully the length of this chapter is some recompense. A more detailed Author's Note is at the bottom. Enjoy reading!

Shadows of Stars

Those who excel in virtue have the best right of all to rebel, but then they are of all men the least inclined to do so.

Aristotle

When Sirius awakens, it's without the hyperawareness that time with Moody inevitably provides, nor with the fear and alarm that he has arisen to increasingly often in the last several months.

Instead, there is a blurring of his senses, slowly crystallising, forging gradually into awareness, before he realises, shit, this isn't his usual room. He is waiting for the panic to set in. He's more anxious when he realises that he isn't panicking and why isn't he panicking after waking up in his parents Hades-damned house and with known DeathEaters and Snape (shudder) in the house, somewhere?

He gets up tentatively, mistrusting himself more than his surroundings. He kneels by his cupboard in the corner, squinting at the dust and webs and spiders that have taken root there. Kreacher's getting lazy, he thinks caustically. He shoves them away with wandless magic before squeezing his head in the space between the cupboard and wall as best he can. His head's definitely gotten bigger, he thinks with a grin. Lily would love to know that.

The voices start drifting across softly, through the hole that connected this corner of his room with Reg's room. Reg had clearly never discovered it. It's how he'd always known when Reg woke up with nightmares – a little charm to make the sounds louder and it had been easy to enter his room after his nightmares in the fashion of the big, heroic Dragon Slayers of the years gone by. Now, he's using it effectively to spy. Just to help the Order, of course…

He listens for as long as he can stand it. He honestly does, but it's so boring. It's just a bit of teasing and prodding, random conversations started by random thoughts, and it's achingly reminiscent of how he and Prongs used to be. It's painful and he hasn't learnt anything useful (other than that Rosier does use styling charms on his hair – ha, he knew it couldn't be natural like he'd always claimed). The next obvious step is to barge into Reg's room, with as little decorum as he can possibly apply, just to annoy him (habits of an older brother die hard, and to be honest, he'd applied it regularly to his friends during Hogwarts too).

He stops short, Rosier's unimpressed eyebrow once again stating how unimpressed it is by climbing its way to his charmed hairline. Reg looks at him for the merest of seconds before scowling and looking away. It's enough for any juvenile jubilation Sirius feels to seep away sadly; Reg doesn't look good. In fact, he looks downright corpsey. Sirius doesn't like it.

'About time you were up,' Evan says cheerily and begad, how can he be so happy so early in the morning? Sirius shudders dramatically to make his point, and only partially to show the stupid Rosier that he can be (melo)dramatic too! 'I'll drag Sev out of his lab and we'll have some breakfast.'

'Severus is still here,' Sirius says with disgust at the same time as Reg says 'Can't you get rid of him?'. For a halcyon moment, Sirius thinks they're on the same parchment but then he catches Reg's glare and the moment dissipates like cheap perfume.

'You know, you might try to be grateful, or at least not an utter prat, towards the guy that saved your life,' Sirius' voice is thin and brittle, eyes flicking hard and grey directly at his little brother. The anger that fills him is sudden, if familiar, and it would be so easy and very tempting to give in to it.

'He's right, you know,' Evan agrees cheerfully, far, far too cheerfully but it does divert Reg's glare onto himself and Sirius' anger douses as suddenly as it had arrived.

'I hate you both,' Reg tells Evan flatly and when he looks back at Sirius, his glare is fully present, just a little less hateful than it was earlier. Sirius hates the feeling of achievement he gets but his brother still looks like he's dying and, well, death is probably as good a reason to rediscover kinship as any.

The moment elongates gracelessly and there's that air of awkwardness that makes Sirius itch and urge to say something, anything, however stupid or antagonistic (usually both). He's not the only one feeling so; Rosier footles with the latest expensive bauble his mother bought for him, a lewd signet ring that held a dark ruby surrounded by smaller emeralds, and his eyes keep glancing beneath his lashes to the door. Reg stares at his fingers, his trembling, white fingers that look bloodless. It's, therefore, with uniform relief that the staccato clicks announces the arrival of Narcissa, if Sirius hazards a guess.

He's feeling smug with himself when the door crashes open to reveal the icy blonde but there's that uncomfortable feeling he can't (and won't) identify, as he notices her sans make-up, eyes shamelessly red and dried tear tracks grossly evident on her pale cheeks. It's his turn to sprint his eyebrows towards his (uncharmed) hairline as she stalks towards her youngest and favourite cousin before slapping him soundly on the cheek.

Reg's cheeks dance to a flaming red before he looks at her. Sirius is expecting fireworks ('Let them raise their hands against a Black, and let them then feel our wrath and strength,' his father's words echo like an ancient, out-dated pamphlet). Instead, Reg looks up at her, big, big eyes in a thin, thin face, opened at its widest, puerile and vulnerable; by Jove, Reg is manipulative as a Veela. Sirius is as nauseated as he is impressed, truthfully.

'I probably deserved that,' he says, his voice low, thin and oh so vulnerable (and in contrast with when he had demanded Rosier to get rid of his own big brother). Narcissa draws in a shuddering breath that in a lesser, more human mortal could have been a sob but Reg hurriedly continues. 'In fact, I definitely did deserve that,' he hastily amends before looking up at her through his lashes (just like Rosier, effeminate as you please).

'That magic, it's dark, malevolent,' Cissy's voice is hushed and cracked, and that, more than anything else, confirms to Sirius that his blonde cousin isn't entirely soulless. She shudders and even Sirius' cynicism can't but consider it genuine. She's playing her fingers on the hand that slapped, trying to remove any remnants that she had felt (and how had she kept such an intuitive, powerful magic under her robe throughout school?).

The silence is broken by Reg. 'Yeah, it's his. I'm dying.' It feels like more than just the silence might have been broken. He's nonchalant, matter of fact and it's altogether disturbing in a boy who looks considerably younger than his age.

'He did this to you?' Narcissa's voice is thin ice, beautiful and dangerous and lethal; her words are simple but her demeanour announces vengeance. Sirius has to clamp down hard on the traitorous thought that his family was undoubtedly evil but maybe not that evil. ('Evil is evil, there's no grey areas,' he remembers Prongs telling him when his brother had been sorted into Slytherin.)

'I did this to me,' Reg's voice is harsh and there's a thick tone of loathing lacing the words lavishly.

'It's a curse?' Narcissa's eyes are coolly assessing him, unblinking eyes in a fierce stare.

'Amongst other things,' Reg says in a drawl that's too forced.

Before the interrogation can continue, stomping and indecipherable noises that could pass for English in the uncouth parts of society permeate the room. The door opens to reveal a Snape that's being dragged by Kreacher, who barely reaches his knees, and it's enough for Sirius to choke on a laugh.

'I has saved Master Sev from work,' Kreacher announces with dignity, sparing a glare to be thrown at said Master Sev. 'Missy Cissy, it is pleasure to see you here. Apologies for not greetings you when you arrived but I was savings this incognisant boy from starvation.'

All eyes stare at Kreacher at his proclamation.

'Incognisant?' Sirius finally asks in disbelief.

'I'm trying to improve Kreacher's taste in books,' Reg says, a half smile playing at his lips.

'When did that thing learn to read?' Sirius demands, utterly flummoxed.

'That thing taught me to read, so apparently before me,' the humour drifts easily away from Reg's face and Sirius bites back any retorts he wants to say, because he can very clearly remember sitting down with his father and going through the alphabet but he can't remember who taught Reg to read.

'What books does Kreacher like?' Narcissa asks with lively curiosity.

'He is obsessed with historical romances,' Reg says with a positively pained expression on his face.

'Regency, Master Reg,' Kreacher corrects him reproachfully and Sirius struggles to not giggle hysterically. It wouldn't help his reputation.

'I'm improving his taste in books,' Reg says firmly.

'With terrible, horrible books about muggles making monsters and machines and taking over the world and rotten futures…' Kreacher mutters in outraged whispers.

'Science fiction?' Rosier sniggers delightedly but sobers quickly enough when he glances at Reg.

'Sev's working on the poison this idiote drank,' he tells Narcissa, his nonchalant manner a memory. He looks as serious as he had when he'd come to find Sirius, hard and angulated. 'The curse might be a bit beyond you.'

Sirius again expects a splendid explosion; his family's egos are rather infamous and frequently mocked outside their own circles but he's once again disappointed. Narcissa turns her stare of crystal shards onto Rosier but remains glacial in her demeanour. Eventually, they reach some sort of understanding – Sirius would almost suspect legilimency but as if Narcissa would ever deign to work at a skill of that sort, Sirius thinks. She's more of a peacock than Rosier.

'I'll get mum,' is all she says before she throws herself at Reg, surrounding him in a suffocating hug that he doesn't even pretend to not savour before twirling around (not a plebeian turn for the likes of Narcissa) and leaves.

'Sort of fitting for Aunt Dru to be the one to examine me,' Reg says drily before snuggling into his cousin's side.

'You're not a dead body yet,' Rosier tells him firmly.

'Are you really dying?' The words slip out before Sirius can stop them and he's fastened with four pairs of identical incredulous frowns.

'No, I'm just having a lark,' his brother bites back but Sirius is having none of it.

'Don't be an ass. Are you really dying?' Sirius asks again, because he has to know. He doesn't think he wants to actually know but he sort of has to, even if he doesn't want to.

'Of course I am. It's rather obvious,' Reg's tone is even but his fingers tremble and Sirius finds himself gripping Reg's hands, hard enough to blanch the already pale skin.

'I won't let you,' Sirius vows and hopes (prays) he keeps his word.

'Oh, hello everyone,' Aunt Druella stands in the doorway, blinking and smiling uncertainly. 'I hope I'm not interrupting an orgy or anything,' she continues, wincing as she sees the disgusted looks all around.

'Not an orgy, mum,' Narcissa spoke from behind her, just visible over her short mother. 'We're all family, remember?'

'Never stopped the Gaunts,' her mother replies. 'Besides, you get used to that sort of thing when you're around Angus and Rébecca,' she flashes Evan an apologetic smile at his very loud groan of disgust. 'How did you think you were created?' She still asks him with amusement.

Sirius blinks at his aunt as he takes her in. Last time he'd met her was a decade ago, just after he'd started Hogwarts. All he remembers were her formal robes and her hair pulled tightly into an elaborate bun, making her thin body with her thin face and her thin lips dreadfully severe. Her hair was still pulled back – in a ponytail now, and she wore the white robes that certain branches of Healers wore, but she didn't look severe, and certainly didn't look frightening right now. Maybe it was his height – he towered over her by maybe as much as a foot, maybe it was that he was just older.

'Is Wally here?' She peers around the room.

'It's Reg, mum,' Narcissa guides her towards her youngest cousin. 'He's been cursed,' the words are clipped. 'It's dark.'

'All curses are dark by definition,' Druella says casually. 'Although it's so inaccurate. Much better to define it by category, really.'

She comes up close to Regulus, her hands following his contours so slowly it looks sensual. 'I'm much more used to dealing with people once they've died,' she flushes at her daughter's indignant sound before looking apologetic once again. 'Sorry. I'm obviously early. I mean it's lucky we've caught it early. I'm sure we can stop you from dying.' She twirls a strand of hair around a finger distractedly before focussing on him again, gnawing on her bottom lip.

She eventually asks him to turn around and repeats her very slow perusal with her hands. At long last, she straightens out and stretches. 'You know, it's a lot easier with dead people; they don't move around so much and I've got my favourite stool to sit on,' she remarks to no-one in particular.

'Mum, empathy,' Narcissa sighs and her mother looks abashed again.

'I don't mean that I wish you were dead at all, Reg. In fact, I'm very delighted to see that you're not,' she explains herself to an openly grinning Reg, and he looks so young when he smiles like that. 'In fact, I'm delighted to see you too, Evan, and you too, Sirius,' she adds.

'No, mum, you're not delighted to see Sirius,' Narcissa corrects her.

'Why not?' Aunt Druella looks sincerely confused. 'It's not Sirius' fault that he exacerbated the love rectangle. I mean, it was already awkward to begin with, so how much worse could he really make it? I mean, it did get quite a bit worse and it was very much a little bit not good, but that wasn't really Sirius' fault. I mean, really, all this should have been sorted out years ago,' she ends her speech a little bit breathlessly, to use her own style of language, and why does Sirius not remember her ever being so… so her?

'Mum,' Narcissa whines again, but in a way that's oddly elegant. 'We don't like Sirius because he was horrid to Reg, and we are Team Reg,' she stamps her foot and it should look childish but it doesn't.

'Oh, of course. Sorry Sirius,' she flashes him an increasingly familiar awkward smile. 'I'm not delighted to see you then. Has anyone had breakfast? I'm rather hungry. It's a known reaction to the potions we use with dead bodies,' she smiles at everyone. 'And you must eat, Regulus, because when we start with the investigating, it might be tiring for you. I'm not entirely sure. You're not dead so I don't really know. But it could be tiring, so best to eat now,' with a gratifying pat on his hands, she stands up, Kreacher sniffing.

'Breakfast has been ready for the past hour,' he woefully says, and Sirius can do nothing but follow his mad as kneazles family.

Evan watched Sirius pace the room, eyeing everything with analytical interest. Luckily, he hadn't lost all of his common sense in Gryffindor, as he kept a safe distance. Ironically enough, Evan was pretty sure all of the items in this room were harmless, Muggle stuff that his uncle had acquired through whatever hush hush things he did for the government.

Nothing as tiring as Black brothers, Evan thought as he shifted in the chair. Except Black sisters, but Andromeda had buggered off and disowned them to sit on her high Thestral and Bella was with Rodolphus somewhere, being gently encouraged by him. Cissy was keeping Reg company with her mother in her laboratory; the professional laboratory that she had in her own home, next to the most utilitarian drawing room that Evan had the discomfort of sitting in. The most minuscule of cushioning to soften the chair that Evan sat on, no sofa in sight…

He shifted again. Sirius didn't pause, continuing to circuit the room, to distract his mind from his brother, Evan kindly attributed to him. Everyone else would have accused him of trying to find excuses to get his family incarcerated, but Evan knew his cousin, knew him better than Potter and his own brother did, he suspected. Sirius was as gullible and blinkered as he was logical and deductive. Sirius had the impressive ability to convince himself of anything, if he set his mind (and imagination) to it but he was also unfailingly systematic and discerning. It was the most interestingly paradoxical aspect of his very irritating cousin.

The quiet click make both of them jump, although only Sirius looked embarrassed, the self-conscious dandy. Cissy looked pale, leaning against the laboratory door.

'He's passed out, but mum's continuing the investigations,' she said. She physically trembled but her voice hadn't.

'Investigations?' Sirius snarled, resuming his animal-in-a-cage walk.

'What else do you expect?' Narcissa snapped back, anger stilling her. 'We need to know the curses before we can treat them. Or do you want to take him to St Mungo's? He'd be carted off to Azkaban without a trial before he'd so much as get a sip of a potion.'

'And whose fault is that?' Eyes blazing, Sirius was nearly foaming at the mouth.

'Yours,' Narcissa said without a pause and Evan stilled, his attention riveted at the abrupt culmination of the covert battle that had raged on since Reg's sorting.

Sirius had time to do little more than gape like a stupefied Blowfish before the smell reached them. Putrid, offensive, pungent enough to curl their nails into their curled toes, the smell heralded the undignified arrival of Cygnus Black III. Wild hair with a thrummy beard danced in a crass fashion around a face that was as covered with fetid material as the rest of him, his robes billowing theatrically around his tall, lean, (some would say arrestingly handsome) frame. He strode through the room with a myopic unfettered gaze on the door that Narcissa leant against. She moved out of the way quickly with a muted squeak, but it was impossible to know whether Uncle Cygnus noticed or not, as he flung open the door (his robes still billowing in the draught-free room – a charm, Evan surmised).

'Oh Succubus, stealer of my thoughts, my focus, my mind,' his rich voice reached them with ease, the timbre pulsating pleasantly with his consonants, ebbing over the syllables. 'You steal something far more important, far more needed by the world than my heart, though you have that too, oh bewitching Circe of dreams I dare not dream.'

With such an entrance, all three of them had taken no time at all to crowd around the doorway (maintaining a substantial distance from Uncle Cygnus), with the perfect vantage point to see Aunt Druella as she turned around. Sirius' mouth fell open and Evan couldn't entirely blame him. Rarely had he seen a smile that spread so readily, unabashed, unbridled joy flickering brighter than any lumos, more sparkling than any niffler's gift.

'Cygnus!' was all she said but that was more than enough to pronounce her love, and Evan saw Sirius taking it in, filing it away.

'Light of my eye, delight of my heart, I saw the glossy sheen of a brown mouse and could think of nothing else but your beautiful, enchanting hair,' he pronounced. Aunt Druella's smile shone ever more brightly, like fiendfyre (Evan would know).

'Aw, you missed me,' she said.

'Succinct as always, my love,' Uncle Cygnus said grandly, stepping towards her (and Regulus, lying insensate on the laboratory table).

'Not until you have a wash,' Aunt Druella warned him.

He paused and spoke reproachfully. 'Have you not missed me, dearest to my heart?'

She shook her head. 'None of your wordplay, Cygnus; you're not coming any closer until you bathe. Besides, I'm in the middle of a job.'

There was another pause, and it seemed that Uncle Cygnus had outright been unaware of Reg. He peered at him, bending in a twiggish fashion from the waist.

'Nervous, the nails are bitten to stubs, right handed as the nails on the left are considerably and consistently more damaged. Drowned – the smell of wet clothes hastily dried ineffectively with a spell is obvious. Recently, of course, as…' He paused, peered a little closer, and then he pronounced at long last, 'No, it's alive!'

'Well done, husband mine,' Aunt Druella spoke impishly, a cheeky twinkle in her eyes, teeth glinting as she smiled at him. 'You may also discern that it is your nephew.'

'No touching,' she warned him again, as his hands drifted just above Reg's body.

'Regulus,' the words of his uncle were, once again, emphatic, though Evan had no problem in understanding what that it meant.

'Indeed,' the softness vanished from Aunt Dru's face and her sombre visage was unsettling for its implications.

'When are you likely to cure him?'

'There's no guarantee I will,' Aunt Dru's grimness infected the area.

'I have no doubt you will,' Evan's uncle spoke softly, so softly they nearly didn't hear it. It spoke louder than his earlier grand statements had.

The smile on her face chased away some of the darkness, but when she spoke, her voice remained grave. 'You need to contact Arcturus.'

'No.'

With equally little hesitation, Aunt Dru told him that it wasn't a choice.

Evan almost audibly choked (Sirius did choke and Cissy just sighed) as before their eyes, their Byronic uncle, cloak still gently rippling, turned petulant and infantile, lower lip sticking out so much that the likeness between Sirius, Regulus and himself impossible to ignore.

'I'll sort it out myself,' he announced with dignity.

'Cygnus, you're under a misapprehension. You will contact Arcturus.'

He appeared taller, loomed over his petite wife. 'If I had my druthers, I choose to solve this problem myself.'

Aunt Dru faltered not at all. She stood her ground, coolly looking at the husband she had smiled so brightly at moments ago. With her small, narrowed eyes, thin lips thinned further and arctic tone, she was the facsimile of forbidding. 'Fine. As you want a choice, I will offer you this. Arcturus or… Irene.'

They stared at one another and the moment grew longer, as did Uncle Cygnus' bottom lip. 'Fine,' he bit out. He stomped out of the room, pouting powerfully as the youngsters swiftly moved away from his soiled, swaying cloak.

'Narcissa, wonderful to see you,' he casually threw out behind him. 'You too, nephews mine. Tell your mother she's evil incarnate, though bewitching as always.'

None of them relayed the message. Her oddly youthful giggle told them she'd heard it.

Usual thanks to Dancing-Souls, Heathenia, I-want-a-shrubbery, Ice Night, Naughty Nylon, Shadowsfading, darinmeg, jql78, korekryptan, melisse, nightworldangel, summer164 and temerey for favouriting this story.

Usual thanks to Grynelle, I-want-a-shrubbery, Ice Night, Kageriah, Miray666, NalaKaa, Naughty Nylon, QueenDromeda, , Shadowsfading, She-wolf Shadow, crayontesla, jql78, korekryptan, kunoichi, lilleil, melisse, nightworldangel, slytherin84, sp8cefluff, .shattered and summer164 for following this story.

Author's Note: Okay, so first of all, apologies for how long it took me to get this chapter up. I wrote the first segment within 7 days, but the other part took me considerably longer to even just start. I kept thinking I wanted a Reg-centric bit but actually, it didn't work with where the story was and where it was heading, so I've ended up going with the flow and I'm more satisfied by it. I also trimmed about 300 words from this chapter. So you can imagine how much even longer it was previously!

Secondly, I'd love to know what everyone's thoughts are on this chapter. I think the first segment is quite straightforward but I think the second segment might be quite divisive and Marmite-like – I can imagine that there might be a few people who will hate it. Just to be clear, the clear focus will be Sirius and Reg and their comrades (which will include the Marauders eventually, not necessarily as one group of course). However, the grown-ups and adults will play a significant role – partially because the drama that went on in their generation is directly and indirectly the cause of some of the drama in this gen, and things will slowly come to light. I do have backstories, personalities, characterisation, for about half of the characters from the Black Family tree. Equally I have specific characterisation for people like Frank and Alice, and even dear Dolores Umbridge. It won't be an infodump (I hope) and won't be character overload (hopefully) but they will be introduced slowly but surely. So just a heads-up that this is a very character driven story.

Having said all that, I will be trying desperately hard to introduce some action. From the next chapter. I promise. Things will actually happen, and feuds may escalate or descalate and comatose kids might recover (or die again). I promise.

Having said all this, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Whether you loved it or hated it, drop me a line and let me know why. And I'll try and update sooner (but no promises – it backfired massively, the last time I tried.)

Trins xxx