SALVATION
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) – they belong to their respective owners. But I do own the idea for this story and the story.
Summary: He was tortured by the Dark side. The Light side betrayed him. Now he's back, but not alone. Watch out, Wizarding World, because two butlers from Hell are pissed. This is SLASH, don't like, don't read!
Shout Out: Right, another little chapter belted out. My updating will be sporadic right now, as me and my meta, the faboulous and beautiful MHB have exams to get through, but fear not, I am writing As it is, the next chapter for this story is already in the works, and you can expect the new one for Among The Hawks And Doves out after the exam furor passes. Also Crimson Sagittarius is in works, although I lag behind, courtesy of my other plotdragons. /glares at them/. That said, the story is slowly beginning to kickstart, and this is one of the catalysts...
Warnings: Doggy prerogatives, family trees and Marauder insanity. Or insanity in general. /hangs head in woeful shame/ Why, oh why I can't I write angst? Anyway, enjoy!
How can blood be our salvation
And justify the pain that we have caused throughout the times
Will I learn what's truly sacred?
Will I redeem my soul, will truth set me free?
(Within Temptation - The Truth Beneath The Rose)
The library of the Grimmauld Place was as dark, drab and dreary as ever. Since its days of glory it had lost most of its majestic sheen; nowadays it was covered in spider webs, strange little critters and dust. The books were quietly sitting on their shelves, while some of them were spread on the reading table and a pair of thick tomes was haphazardly open at a random page. The place was furnished in muted colors that were now indistinguishable from the amount of dust and spiders and …. Was that mold in the upper corner there? So the only colors were - if you could call them as such - dark brown, sickly grey and black and some kind of weird mixture of stale puke. There was not much sunlight in it, courtesy of the curtains, and the fireplace was unlit, giving the room an additional feeling of chill. Something shifted on the chair and for a moment, a man would have thought it was only a shadow.
Although very messy-haired and bearded shadow - wait, what? Surely shadows didn't have beards? Or blue eyes? And weren't clad in some weird robe thingy, even if outside it was daytime, not that the occupant knew that, courtesy of him being drunk as a skunk for the last three hours and right now slowly emerging from his restless nap, and with a painful headache to boot.
This, ladies and gents, was the oh so handsome and witty and gay - maybe not so much now - owner of the entire shabby house, named Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, also the self-proclaimed white sheep of the Black family.
"Nnngh…" The man groaned, scrunching his nose as he mentally tried to escape the pounding headache that was playing war drums in his noggin. He grimaced at the feeling in his mouth as he gingerly tried to straighten himself up, finally succeeding in his endeavor, but not without small yelps and curses as he unknotted his muscles from the uncomfortable position he curled himself in some thee hours prior. The fearless ex-Gryffindor had taken the residence in the Library simply to escape the nagging of one Molly Weasley - Merlin, that woman could harp like nobody's business, and that was disregarding the fact she and her family were living here as a Sirius' favor to the Headmaster, as the Burrow was burned down five months prior in the Death Eater raid. Luckily for the Weasels - oops, Weasleys, none of their huge brood was harmed - at least not harmed in a way that would last, which Sirius bemoaned - why, oh why, didn't his lovely cousin Bella –no Trixy-Trix - that was not right either - ah, hah Bellatrix! - At least curse the damned woman with something that would take her voice? She would have done him a service - the rotund red-haired woman was good for cooking and breeding like a rabbit, but her voice had absolutely no business of gracing the human ears in any way or fashion - well, except maybe Death Eaters', but the Death Munchies were not counted as part of the human species, anyway. Oh, poo.
Ahem. Back to our esteemed person of interest. So Sirius Black was once again blundering his way through another hangover, not being a Gryffindor and generally feeling like a biggest failure ever. The mess one and a half years ago had done a number on him - first finding out that Harry was Voldemort's supporter, and the boy had cheerfully tortured his relatives so gruesomely that even the most hardened Aurors lost the content of their stomachs on site, and then, the bastard cheerfully admitted that he did the deed and then daring to act innocent!
Dull blue eyes narrowed in rage. Ha - no, the Freak, deserved every bit of…. punishment Sirius exerted on his prison. Sirius was only wondering where they went wrong. Why did the boy turn Dark? His parents sacrificed everything for him, and look what that brought them - a son that was consorting with the Darkest Dark Lord of the century, who cheerfully tortured his relatives and shamelessly, admitted it, even going so far as to describing the torture to the jury.
Yes, the boy - Phobos - deserved every bit of the Dark Arts Sirius could manage to heap on him. Even if Sirius himself had promised himself that he would never, ever be like his family, he had made the exception this time - for his dear deceased friends. Remus had of course tried to protest, gentle soul that he was, but Sirius firmly overruled him, playing on the werewolf's sense of losing his pack. When he was alone, Sirius often wondered if he hadn't gone too far, branding Harry as a traitor to the House of Black, but James' and Lily's deaths quickly overruled such inane thoughts. Blacks were nothing if not thorough in exacting retribution.
Sirius stumbled on his legs, stubbornly trying to disregard the nausea and vertigo that assaulted him at the very moment.
He blinked as he wearily looked at the family tree. The thing was old, dating somewhere in fourteenth century, but Sirius hated the damned thing as he still vividly remembered the lessons on his ancestors' noble deeds and whatnot - his dear mother, note the sarcasm - insisted he was knowledgeable of them, and for young Sirius, this was one torture of his brains he could've gone without.
The old parchment was yellowish, like old hag's teeth, dirty and dusty, and Sirius idly scratched his messy, oily hair as he pondered whether or not to take the damned thing down and burn it in front of his mother's portrait.
Would have served the damned bitch right…
But first…. He had to get to the damned thing. Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled shakily. His stomach was slowly settling down, no longer threatening to upchuck whatever he did and didn't eat yesterday. Once again, he winced, but this time, with different reason.
"Close the damn'd door, Rem!" He barked out, or tried to bark, but all that came from his throat was some kind of undecipherable mumbling. Still, the light from the entrance dimmed as the new occupant of the library slowly shuffled in.
"Sirius…" Remus' disapproving sigh would have made Sirius wince, but they had been through that ritual so many times already it was more out of habit than anything else. "You know, I am surprised you haven't keeled from liver failure yet." Remus commented dryly as he approached his old friend.
Said 'old friend' was currently trying to give him a stinky eye, but with not much success. "Mmrph." Sirius mumbled back. "So what does the shrew want?" Sirius croaked out.
"For you to cease your drinking binges? Really, Siri." The werewolf shook his head, sighing.
Remus Lupin had also changed. He was even grayer, and thinner and his clothes, even if they were marginally better - Sirius had forced him to accept a part of his wardrobe, as his own was practically in shambles, what with the overuse. Previously warm brown eyes now had a faint sheen of amber woven in, a sign the full moon was fast approaching.
The werewolf was crushed when they found out that the kind, shy Harry they all knew was nothing but a fraud. And with Sirius' convictions…. But mostly, his wolf's insistence the…. Boy was something dangerous and with scenting the blood on the boy, and not only that, the blood of his own relatives, Remus was forced to concede. However, even as hard as it was, and with the wolf demanding retribution for his broken pack, Remus had restrained himself from….punishing… the boy. Even if he was a monster, he was Lily's and James' son first, and in honor of the Potters, Remus abstained. That didn't mean he didn't vindictively enjoy in the pained shrieks and howls of said boy.
The Order was waging a war against Voldemort, albeit unsuccessfully. They were simply too few of them, and the Death Eaters were too strong, and when they managed to quell one fire, there were at least three new ones starting. It had been driving them to exhaustion, this kind of guerrilla war, especially as Dumbledore still insisted on using non-lethal force and passing all the Death Eaters they managed to catch, to the Ministry. Which, understandably, let them go at the soonest time possible. Moody had ranted that Dumbledore was old, doddering fool, and privately, Remus agreed with the grizzled Auror, but what they could have done? If they used lethal force they were not authorized with, they could've thrown in jail or worse, Azkaban, and sadly, most of the Order of the Phoenix didn't have the deep pockets of his adversaries that they could have afforded immediate release upon being convicted.
Now, most of the Order was stuffed at Grimmauld Place, as it was their base of operation, and thankfully, Dumbledore still held the Fidelius charm over the property, otherwise they would have been really boned.
"Why th' fuck did ya come here?" Sirius slurred out, jarring Remus from his quiet ponderings. The werewolf barely restrained from rolling his eyes. "For the pleasure of your esteemed company?" He drolled out, managing to get a hacking cough of amusement from the disheveled man that was currently leaning against the table, his spine still slightly hunched, a testament the party animal of the Marauders was feeling his hangover rather acutely. And Remus was not as kind as to supply him with a hangover cure. If the old dog hadn't learned it by now, then he didn't deserve it, and no amount of pitiful puppy dog eyes would have swayed the werewolf otherwise.
"Right," Sirius agreed dryly as his eyes darted to the yellowed thing that Remus knew it to be a family tree.
Remus blinked. "There will be a meeting in half an hour, Pad." He muttered, being merciful on Sirius' ears… for now. Merlin knows, he would get his fair share when Molly started yammering. And if Remus was completely honest with himself, even he would have been driven to the bottle as a distraction tactic, what with the shrew.
"Mmph." Sirius grunted. "And I should care, why again?" He asked grumpily, his eyes still zeroed on the family tree, as he unsteadily stood up. "Dumbledore would just get out the same ol' rules. Seriously, he behaves as if we were kindergarteners with ADD." He muttered to himself sourly, making Remus choke with surprise. "Well, yeah. But how do you know what ADD is?" The werewolf inquired as he neared to the man, absentmindedly looking around the dreary place.
"I do have a brain, you know." Sirius retorted dryly. As he stumbled towards the family tree/tapestry and almost falling, if Remus wouldn't have caught him.
"Whoa, easy. But seriously, Pad, lay off of the tequila and Firewhisky. I swear, one lit match in foot away from you, and you would be a nicely charred corpse." Remus berated him, wrinkling his nose with disgust. "Ugh, you stink." Sirius flashed him a demented grin. "Doggy prerogative." He snarked back, and stepped forward, almost yanking Remus forward as well, as the werewolf was unprepared to the switch of the weight.
"Well, we are lucky you don't have fleas, at least." Remus sighed, half-amused, half-irritated. Seriously, why was he still the friends with the idiot? "What are you up to now?" he asked half-heartedly.
Sirius turned his head back, his shaggy hair seeming silver in the dull light of the library, with some black streaks here and there. Remus made a note to clean the library - with Sirius' permission, of course, later. Although it was funny sight, what with Sirius being like some kind of a badly powdered mannequin - his hair was messy, his dark clothes were not as dark as they were when he had stumbled into his haven – library was only place in the house where the Order didn't have entrance to, courtesy of the Black wards. Remus was extremely lucky he was included in the wards, otherwise he was sure Sirius would have managed to starve himself in it, and no one would have been the wiser.
"So that's why are you staring at the tapestry?" Remus inquired as he supported the doggy man.
"Yeah." Sirius nodded to himself self-satisfied. "It would do…. Oh so beautifully." His scratchy voice contained the undercurrent of an unholy glee that made Remus instantly wary of the ex-convict.
"Would do for what?" Remus asked, with dread pitting in his stomach.
"Why," Sirius beamed, all teeth and mad blue eyes. "We should warm my dear old mum, and the tapestry is juust how we would do it." He reached forward with one hand to tear it off from its place –
"Wait!" Remus choked. "Sirius, this is at least seven centuries of history! It's an artifact!" Gentle brown eyes were widened with horrified amusement as Sirius pouted. "Seven centuries of old croakers who are not alive anymore," Sirius haughtily informed him. "And in the spirit of renovation… it has to go!" he ended grandly as his finger sought the upper right corner of the old thing. "Now do you wanna help me or not?" He asked childishly, a pout forming on his scraggly face.
"But -" Remus tried to protest. However, his eyes stopped on one special name.
Nymphadora Tonks
The name was written out with elegant gothic cursive but the lines were…. Burned out? Remus blinked.
Distantly, he remembered when Dora told him that her mother was disowned from the Blacks because she had followed her heart and married one Ted Tonks, a Muggle, much to the disapproval of her mother. It was a sore point for her that she had named in an attempt reconciliation of her mother with the Blacks… unsuccessful, of course, but the name had stayed, as it was recorded by the means of magic.
His 'Dora had gotten a lot of flak for her name - the name was coming from old Pureblood lines, and it was a societal faux pass that an disowned girl, especially one from a Black family, dared to name her child so. It was no wonder Dora preferred her surname…
His eyes narrowed. "By all means, do so." He allowed mildly, his other hand reached for the upper left corner. "Mr. Moony would be delighted in helping Mr. Padfoot to enrage the old wretch to the point of apoplexy."
Sirius' pout changed into a wide, toothy grin. "Atta pal. And Mr. Padfoot humbly thanks Mr. Moony for his esteemed help and promises oodles of show." He said cheekily. "On three?" His fingers curled, feeling the scratchy texture.
"Oodles?" Remus asked dryly, amused. "Seriously, Sirius, just how old are you again?"
"Old enough to drink, fuck and be falsely imprisoned, apparently." Sirius returned the jibe cheekily. "So, Mr. Moony, ready for the first act of insubordination?"
The werewolf snorted. "First act of insubordination, yeah right… seriously, Pad, sometimes I worry for your brain." He cringed as the doggy man burped loudly. "Shoulda knew you would only want me for my brilliant intelligence," Sirius shook his head mock-mournfully, dislodging some dust off of his hair. "Wouldn't Nymphie-dear be disappointed you are contemplating adultery with my fantabulous brain." He yelped as Remus pinched his side… rather painfully. "Ow! See! The proof! You are abusin' my good looks –"
Remus sighed. "I give up." He conceded, amused. His eyes slid over the tapestry mournfully - even if he promised his help, it would be a sad sight to see such a … artifact burn in cinders.
He stopped at Sirius' name, or lack thereof, and blinked.
"Hey, Sirius. Did you know you have a kid?" he asked, half in jest and half in disbelief.
"Whu?" Sirius bleated. "What kid are you blatherin' 'bout?"
"No, see." Remus's eyes were wide with disbelief. "Right under you and…. Sistina Carruthers?
Sirius blinked blearily. "Sistina…" He mumbled. "Sistina…Where have I heard that name already?"
The werewolf shook his head with half-disgust, half-incredulity at his friend's dead brain. Sure it still functioned as intended, but Sirius' memory, except when it was for revenge and pranks, was woefully short. Seriously, it was still a miracle to him that Sirius had ever managed to get into the Aurors.
"You…That sixth year Ravenclaw babe - you did say she was bootylicious or something." he grimaced at reiterating Sirius' description of the girl. "Berenice Sistina Carruthers. She quit the seventh year because of some… health issues."
Sirius blinked. And blinked again. After a moment of frowning, his face lightened up. "Oh! You mean Bootylicious Benny!" He exclaimed, before his face got that dreamy look. "Oh yeah….Definitely bootylicious…"
Remus rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Sirius, you are such a horn-dog…." He looked back at the tapestry. "Now we know why she quit…she was apparently pregnant with your kid."
Sirius blinked. "Damn. I got a kid. How?" He asked, as he tilted his head, his fingers tracing the name of his… progeny.
"Birds and bees, Pad-man." Remus retorted back dryly. "Birds and bees."
Wounded blue eyes looked at him. "Ow, you wound me. Deeply, mind you. But seriously, if I had had a kid, I would have known it." He haphazardly waved at the tapestry.
"Would you really?" Remus asked skeptically, as he scratched his beard. "You haven't been in this house since the harridan you call mother disowned you."
"But I was in the library since –" Sirius argued, as his eyes darkened at the memory.
Both of the men were momentarily silent.
"Yeah, you were." Remus admitted, before he eyed him accusingly. "Drunk as a skunk, that is."
Sirius stuck his tongue at him, and then both of them turned back to the tapestry, looking at the impossibility that was written there, black on white – er, yellow.
"You know what, Rem?" Sirius asked the werewolf as a small smile of wonder painted itself on his lips. "I got a kid."
Remus eyed him confused. "Yes, you did. So what?" he asked, his previous sense of dread returning with a force, as Sirius gently fingered the name of his… progeny.
Sirius' grin widened itself to unholy proportions.
"So… Let's go tell my dear mummy that I got an heir….Which is, by the way, a bastard kid. "
Remus face palmed.
None of the two men noticed a dark golden and black-striped spider in the corner, its dark eyes watching them with an unusual amount of intelligence.
News of the day for one Order of Not-Plucked But Still Flaming Turkey…. Sirius Got A Kid.
Yeah, seriously?
The Order Members which were present at the time, disinterestedly watched Sirius triumphantly barrel - or better yet, barrel with some subtle undertones of staggering that could be taken as an unsuccessful swagger, to the heavy curtain that hid behind the shrieking harridan that was Sirius' not so dearly departed mummy, with some kind of a yellowed parchment in his hand, and following behind him, was Remus, who was shaking his head in disbelief.
"What is he doing?" Elphias Dodge muttered to Emmaline Vance, confused. They had never, ever seen Sirius so…cheerful. Usually, the man was depressed, chugging the tequila and Firewhisky like bottomless pit, staggering around, cursing that….demon-spawn or trying to entice Snape into a row. Usually, Sirius came back at the unholy hour of noon, choking down some food, snatching a drink and then holing himself up wherever and whenever, with the exception of the kids' rooms until the morning. And then repeat.
However, this... fine day, Sirius was unusually cheerful - his eyes were still bloodshot, and he had eye bags of epic proportions, and he stank of alcohol to high heavens, but his grin was one of those wide, doggy varieties that just screamed mischief.
… who was right now, opened the curtain with flourish. "Hello, mummy!"
"You again!" Walburga shrieked. "Haven't you disgraced the name of the Ancient and Noble House of Black enough?" The old woman glared at the cheekily smiling son harshly, but Sirius was undeterred.
"Apparently not, as I still live, mummy." Sirius smiled back, all teeth and niceties. "But enough of that, I have brought to you some very joyous news."
The woman blinked, sniffling imperiously. "I sincerely doubt that anything you have to tell me would redeem my opinion of you." She spat out, for once not shrieking, and nearly giving the witnesses a shock.
Walburga Black, being nice?
The world was surely ending!
Sirius, however, was undeterred. "How kind of you, old hag." He nodded at her cheerfully, interrupting her snarl as he waved in front of her face with the old, scraggly piece of –
"- you…. You dared to desecrate the Black tapestry!" Walburga choked out, her dark eyes wide with shock.
Emmaline inhaled a sharp breath. Desecrating a tapestry of an old family such as the Black was an absolute no-no, but apparently Sirius disregarded it cheerfully.
"But Mummy, I was so happy with the news I just had to show it to you in person," Sirius innocently continued, his own blue eyes wide like a kid who was amusing itself with something shiny.
The old woman tilted her messy head like a curious vulture. "And why I should listen to the words of filthy Mudblood-lover and blood traitor like yourself?" She asked silkily, her voice croaking out of her throat.
Sirius beamed even more, if that was even possible.
"Why, mummy, I am so glad you asked." While talking, he unrolled the parchment and pushed it so the old hag could see the writing.
"Or…." Sirius continued deviously, "Should I say…Grandmummy?"
Walburga's eyes widened, just like Elphias' and Emmaline's.
"Wh - what?" Emmeline croaked out.
The menace that was Sirius Black apparently found the means to procreate?
And not only that…
"So…. Mummy…. Meet your grandson, who is, by the way, a bastard kid. Neat, huh?" Sirius asked, like a kid high on Coke and cookies.
THUMP.
Oh… Who knew that portraits could faint too?
Sirius looked at the skewed portrait, his grin now getting evil proportions. "And just so you know," He announced cheerfully, "I will be making him the Black Heir."
THUMP.
This time, it was Elphias' and Emmaline's turn.
Remus Lupin groaned pitifully as Sirius skipped in the kitchen to share the happy news and cigars - and just where did he procure those from?
He just felt that his peaceful days were waving him goodbye.
Merlin help them, the world would not survive Sirius and his doppelganger of a brat.
He warily eyed the piece of the tapestry that was haphazardly thrown on the floor.
There, in bold black gothic italic letters, were written two damned words of the approaching Satan's - ahem, Sirius' spawn.
ANTARES CARRUTHERS
/To Be Continued/