Rrring. Rrring. Rrring.

Sirius leaned against the wall, his rotary phone pressed to his ear as a bejeweled finger twisted the cord. There was no excuse for how long it'd been ringing — not when his cousin's absurd manor was teeming with maids and butlers and whomever else the tight-arsed chit and her miserable blighter of a husband thought they needed to keep their house running.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, pick up, you —"

The ringing stopped.

"Hello, Mr. Black."

The voice was familiar, but distant — one he hadn't heard in a long while.

"Dobby?" he asked. "Is that you, old chap?"

"It's Mr. Dobbs," the butler replied lowly. He sounded rather unimpressed, but Sirius couldn't be sure why. He and Cousin Andromeda had been calling him Dobby since the day they met the flappy-eared fool.

Truly, he'd never seen bigger ears in all his days — not even at that freak-show he went to in Thailand.

"Always Dobby to me, mate," he said. "How'd you know it was me, by the way?"

"Caller ID, sir," the butler replied, his tone only growing more bitter.

"Caller ID. Huh. Maybe I ought to invest in that . . . Have a few old girlfriends I'm not too keen on that still call from time to time . . ." Sirius cracked a smile. "But you know how that is, don't you, you old dog?"

"Who is it you were hoping to speak with, Mr. Black?"

The butler did not sound amused.

"Well, as lovely it's been talking to you, I was hoping to have a chat with my dear cousin," Sirius answered. He curled his fingers around the console table the phone-cradle was perched upon, praying to whatever deity was out there she wouldn't be off pretending to care about orphans or getting fitted for a gala gown or whatever else the woman spent her time doing.

"Mrs. Malfoy is a busy woman, sir. May I know the purpose of the call?"

"Just a bit of the old family catch-up." Sirius rubbed at a mark in the console table, frowning. He'd have to ask Kreacher to fill it in with some stain. "Surely, that won't be a problem?"

There was a pause.

"It isn't necessarily a problem, sir. It's more a matter of urgency . . . You see, Mrs. Malfoy has a charity dinner she's preparing for, and if I'm to disturb her —"

"Family is always urgent, no?" Sirius pressed.

"A fair statement indeed, sir. However, —"

"So if it's a fair statement, you ought to go get her, yeah?" Sirius scrubbed at another mark. He didn't remember that table being so ruddy wounded.

Dobby sighed, resigned. "I suppose so, Mr. Black. If you don't mind being placed on hold for just one moment, while I fetch her?"

"Would love to be placed on hold," Sirius gushed. "Hold's my favorite word."

"Very good, sir. One moment."

Music played back at him — as though he'd called a fucking attorney's office. Probably her wanker husband's idea. The snooty bastard had been going for the gold medal in the Pretention Olympics since the day he was born.

It blared in his ear as he rubbed at the marks in the console table — there were so many of them, how hadn't he noticed them before? — waiting for good news. In truth, he half-expected Dobby not to fetch her at all. The old bloke had a history of failing to deliver messages. He'd nearly been fired twice for hiding postcards from family members he didn't care to serve.

Cousin Bellatrix hadn't been too happy about that. She'd been excluded from Christmas dinner twice for "a lack of harmonious participation in familial cordialities." Sirius had been excluded because, well, he was Sirius.

The music stopped.

"Hello, Sirius."

"Hello, Narcissa," Sirius said brightly. "Lovely to hear your voice."

"If that were the case, I'd think you'd call more often," she lilted. "How long has it been, cousin? Two years? Perhaps three?"

"A year, at most, I'd think."

"The New Year's Gala was three summers ago."

"Has it been that long?" Sirius asked, though he knew good and well that it had been. The last time they'd spoken, he'd asked her husband if he performed cunnilingus on the queen in exchange for a set of emerald-encrusted cufflinks. He was quickly encouraged to leave the premises after that.

"It has, yes," Narcissa answered. "So while it is a most welcome surprise to hear from you, I am ever so curious what the reason for your call is."

Sirius cleared his throat. The woman got right to the point, and no matter how polite she sounded, he knew she was ruthless. Asking a favor would take some finesse only a member of the Black family could manage.

And he'd been shunned from the Black family for quite some time.

"Well, I was hoping I could get a bit of quality time with the boy," he said. "It's been a long time and I do miss that cherubic little smile of his."

"While I am his mother, and he will always be a joy to me, I'm sad to report that his smile is notably less cherubic now that he's sixteen."

Venom coated her words.

"Naturally, yes," Sirius replied, "but I'll always see him as that tiny little fellow you introduced during Easter at your mother's."

"As will I. As I said, I am his mother."

Sirius paused. "Right . . . So what d'you say? A little time to bond with good old Uncle Sirius?"

"He's not called you his uncle since he was ten," Narcissa retorted.

"Sure he has," Sirius argued. "Last I saw him, he did."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken. The last you saw him, he spoke less than three words to you before I asked Mr. Dobbs to escort you back to your vehicle. I'm sure you recall why that was, and why I may be hesitant to trust you with my well-mannered, yet impressionable, sixteen-year-old son."

"The boy's nearly a man, surely he can —"

"Draco," Narcissa corrected. "His name is Draco."

Sirius wrinkled his nose. It always was a terrible name — he'd thought so since he first heard it. It was only natural he'd try with every fiber of his being to forget it.

"I knew that, I only —"

"Why are you really calling, Sirius? What do you want with my son?"

"Does an uncle need a reason to want to spend quality time with his nephew?" Sirius asked.

"Suddenly, quality time is important to you? The last time you allowed him to visit was when he was eleven, and he came back with a goose egg and a new obsession with Farrah Fawcett."

"That's not true, I sat with him at Addretta Nott's funeral. We were practically joined at the hip."

"You asked him if he smuggled in any illicit substances," Narcissa hissed. "That hardly qualifies as joined at the hip. "

"That doesn't sound like me."

"It sounds exactly like you."

Sirius picked at his teeth. "Maybe so. Either way, we won't be getting into anything illicit while he's here, if it makes you feel any better."

Narcissa was quiet for a moment. Finally, she asked, "What kind of scheme do you want my son to participate in, Sirius?"

"Scheme? No scheme at all."

"I'd much prefer to avoid the games, dear cousin, so please, just tell me what it is you want and I might consider asking him if he'd like to see you."

Sirius pondered her. He should have known his attempt would be too transparent for the likes of Narcissa. She'd always been sharp.

"Well," he started, "if I'm being honest, there is a lovely new neighbor girl around his age that just moved in across the street. She's very bright, quite . . . pretty." He wrinkled his nose. "After meeting her, I immediately thought how splendidly she would get along with your boy."

"Draco."

"Yes, Draco," Sirius said, annoyed. "He's old enough he ought to start courting, is he not?"

"You want my son to court your neighbor?"

"Why not? She's his age, she's an intellectual little thing — and it may be his only chance to keep the family tree from becoming a bloody circle —"

"Let me guess: Some poor, single mother has moved into your neighborhood and you think my Draco seeing her daughter may be your excuse to copulate with her."

Technically, no.

"That is . . . not it at all, actually," Sirius said triumphantly.

"And yet somehow, I still think I'm quite close to the truth," Narcissa replied. She paused. "Tell me more about this girl."

"She's bright, very bright," Sirius said quickly, genuinely surprised she was going to entertain him.

"You already said that."

"Her family owned a dental practice," Sirius went on. "She comes from a good line, good money."

" Owned a dental practice. Did they lose the business?"

"No, they tragically passed . . . That only makes her interesting, though, doesn't it? Quite a story to tell your little society friends."

"Don't be crass," Narcissa said. She cleared her throat. "You said they were dentists?"

"The both of them — the girl herself will probably become a doctor."

"There's no need to keep on with your persuasion, cousin. I'm thinking."

A long pause.

A hand over the receiver.

Muffled voices — none he could understand.

He almost considered hanging up. If she was speaking to that husband of hers, there was no way things would go the way he was hoping. That blond-headed git —

"Okay," Narcissa finally said. "You may spend one day with him."

Sirius dimmed his excitement as much as he could muster. "That's wonderful news! I'm telling you, Narcissa, this girl is quite a catch. Always on about her books and —"

"And I want updates while he's with you. Phone calls every two hours."

Sirius frowned. "Narcissa, how can the boy —"

"I mean it, Sirius. If I don't hear from him, I'm sending someone to bring him home. And if he's not exactly where he is supposed to be, we will call the police. I have no problem sending you back to prison."

"Fine, fine, every two hours," Sirius conceded.

The way she said back to prison made it sound like he was some kind of career criminal. He had been locked up in a Mexican jail one time, but it was only a few hours and he hadn't done anything that bad. Tequila made a lot of people crazy. Surely, he wasn't the first to piss in a basin of holy water.

"Good," Narcissa said. She clicked her tongue. "You know, it is interesting this occurs less than two weeks after the Parkinson girl backed out of their arrangement. How lucky for you."

"How lucky for the boy . A Parkinson? If she's anything like her mother, he just dodged the world's biggest bullet."

Narcissa snickered softly. " Ahem. That's inappropriate, Sirius."

"What? The woman looks like a bloody pug."

She barked a laugh. "Oh, stop it!"

"She does!"

"Would it be improper for me to agree with you?"

"Not if the girl just backed out of your . . . arrangement, whatever it was." Sirius stopped. "I can pick him up Saturday, then?"

"No," Narcissa said. "Especially not on that death trap of yours."

"Great, then you'll bring him by."

"Lucius will," she answered.

"Lucius," Sirius repeated.

There was nobody he loathed more than Narcissa's husband. He was the most arrogant, silver-tongued menace the family had ever known — and that was saying something. The Black family had quite the track record for arrogant, silver-tongued menaces.

"He's been working near your neighborhood for business," Narcissa replied. "I'll inform him he's to bring Draco to you on his way in."

"Brilliant, I'll see him then. You have a good day, Narciss —"

"Wait!" Narcissa said loudly, panic in her tone. "How should Draco dress? I assume any event you're taking him to would be . . . social casual?"

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Christ, Narcissa, yes, social casual is fine."

"Lovely. I'll let him know. You'll be sober, yes?"

"Wouldn't dream of being anything but."


Sirius didn't recognize the large, black SUV pulling up to the curb. He didn't have to. Only one man could be so full of himself as to show up to Sirius's house in a BMW, and that man was the one he'd been expecting. Well, perhaps dreading was a better word for it.

For every favor, there was a little bit of hell to pay, and dealing with Lucius Malfoy was enough hell for a lifetime.

Sirius sighed and cracked open the front door. He had dressed as smartly as he could for the occasion — just smart enough to keep Lucius from denying him the day with his teenage cousin, and hopefully smart enough to impress Remus too. The black trousers were from PCP Pete's funeral, the button-down from his most recent court appearance.

Thanks Peter, thought Sirius.

Really, he should've thanked him twice over. If he hadn't been such a rat, Sirius would've never gone to court in the first place — the entire ensemble was really Pete's work.

He wouldn't be mentioning that, though, of course. He had a feeling Lucius wouldn't approve of anyone with "PCP" in their preferred title.

Speaking of Lucius, he wondered when the miserable boil of a man was finally going to show his face. The SUV was just sitting there, idling, parked purposefully in front of Number Twelve. The street was open enough for a weekend — so Sirius had no doubts it was his regrettable family members seated in that overpriced heap of poor gas mileage. He frowned and approached it. If he were lucky, Lucius would want to make quick work of the drop-off.

Unfortunately, Sirius was rarely lucky.

One of the back doors opened, gleaming glossy black under the rare British sun. Out stepped a man with long, platinum hair pulled into a ponytail. A vein protruded from his pale forehead.

"Lucius," Sirius said.

"Sirius." His nose crinkled, as though he'd smelled something terrible. It was his signature sneer — one worthy of record books; even Sirius's mother couldn't compete with it. "You're looking . . . alive."

"Could almost say the same about you," Sirius chirped.

A boy that was the man's spitting image — sans the obnoxious hairdo — slid out. He shut the door behind him and rooted himself beside his father.

Lucius's lip curled. "Narcissa asked that I ensure you're not under the influence of anything before I turn our son over to you . . . I wonder, can you pass that test?"

"Of course I can," Sirius lied. "Haven't drank all day."

"Hmm . . ." hummed Lucius. "Curious how you reek of whiskey, then."

"Curious indeed. Maybe I ought to see a doctor."

Narcissa and Lucius's son crossed his arms. He appeared to be his own brand of unimpressed — an unsightly combination of both of his pretentious parents.

"This is where you live?" he spat.

"Yes, why?"

"Weren't you some kind of big musician or something?"

Sirius frowned. "Yes —"

"And you live in the suburbs?"

"Now, now, play nice, Draco," Lucius drawled. "Not everyone manages their investments as well as we do . . . Besides, the suburbs are . . . acceptable, to some."

"Sorry, Father."

Lucius regarded Sirius. "You're to call Narcissa every —"

"Two hours, I know," Sirius grumbled.

"No exceptions."

"We'll make it happen," he agreed. He lowered his voice. "Even if it is bloody stupid."

"Good," Lucius replied. He patted Draco on the shoulder. "No drinking, and if you see drugs, what do you do?"

"Call the police."

Lucius nodded. "Very good." He turned back to Sirius. "I truly hope you both have a most wonderful day. I have some business a few streets down, but Ern will be back to pick him up at seven."

"Ern?"

"The driver, Black, do keep up."

"The driver, right." Sirius ground his teeth together. "Well, we'll be ready at seven. We'll be having so much fun it'll come right quick, won't it, nephew?"

The boy wrinkled his nose. If he looked unimpressed before, he looked positively disgusted now. Lucius rolled his eyes and patted his son on the shoulder.

"If anything seems amiss, you call your mother. I'll see you tonight for dinner." He then slid into the back of the SUV and poked a finger at Sirius. "You take care of my son."

"Don't worry, Lucius, I have a full day of strippers and —"

The black door shut in his face. Sirius grimaced.

The SUV then revved — clearly the work of Ern, since Lucius was too much of a pompous git to drive himself — and jerked forward. Sirius and Draco stood there silently, watching its taillights as it chugged down the street.

"Are there really going to be strippers?" Draco asked, gaze still fixed on the SUV as Ern ran the stop sign.

"Maybe when you turn eighteen."

"As if I'll be hanging around you when I'm eighteen . . ." He paused. "My mother mentioned something about a girl."

Sirius nodded and started back towards the house; Draco followed.

"Your mother was right — there is a girl, and I think you'll like her."

"Is she fit?"

Sirius made a face. "She's your age, how am I supposed to know?"

Draco groaned. "She's a right ugly wench, isn't she?"

"Ugly? No, she's certainly not ugly ," Sirius replied, marching up the porch steps. He reached the top and opened the front door. "But I don't find teenagers fit. Would be on a list if I did, wouldn't I?"

His young cousin eyed him as he sidled past, seemingly unconvinced. "Do you have a picture?"

"I'll do you one better. You're set to meet her today." Sirius pulled out his pocket-watch. "In about twenty minutes, actually."

"Twenty minutes?" Draco repeated.

Sirius stepped into the house, closing the door behind him, "That's what I said. Excellent comprehension skills, all that expensive schooling's doing you a fine job." He gestured the interior. "So — what do you think?"

Draco looked around. "Cleaner than I expected — not that that's saying much.

"It better be clean," Sirius said. "I pay good money for my butler to keep it up. You might know him actually — Kreacher. He's made his rounds in Black family estates. Has known us for years." He frowned. "As a matter of fact, the way he talks about my mother, I think they might've had an affair." He shivered in disgust.

"You pay someone to clean this place? But why?"

"It's the nicest house in the neighborhood," Sirius replied. "Far too big for me to manage on my own."

"It doesn't seem all that big," Draco retorted. "My manor foyer is at least five times as big."

"Ah, but would you rather have a big foyer or a pretty girl living across the street?" Sirius asked, wagging his finger.

"I thought you said you didn't think she was fit," Draco pointed out.

"You really do have an attitude, don't you?" Sirius shook his head. "Anyway, we're going to set some ground rules."

" You're telling me about ground rules? You brought cocaine to your own brother's wake!"

"My brother loved cocaine, it's what he would've wanted. But that's besides the point!" Sirius leveled his gaze on his cousin. "There are rules, and you will follow them. And if you break any of them, I suspect even your mother would be very embarrassed."

The boy narrowed his eyes with idle curiosity.

"Rule number one," Sirius said, gliding out of the entryway, "you're to treat the girl and her guardian with respect. If you do anything less, I'll call your mother at once."

They entered the sitting room. Draco looked around, his eyes landing on a rather unsightly brown stain on the Venetian rug.

"Ah, it looks worse than it is," Sirius said, gesturing it. "Nothing a shampoo won't get out. Anyway, as I was saying: Rule two. This girl, she can be — well, she's a bit of a know-it-all. She might talk above your head a bit, just let her. I think she likes that kind of thing." He collapsed into his armchair and smiled. "And last but not least, rule three. Keep her entertained."

"I'm the guest in her house. She should be doing the entertaining."

"I don't mean that kind of entertaining. I mean keep her distracted. Her guardian and I have a bit of business we'll be taking care of —"

"My mother said you were likely using me as a pawn in some kind of weird game to have a shag," Draco cut in. "I heard her telling my father."

"First off, would pay to hear your mother use the word shag. Secondly, how dare she? I would never do such a thing." Sirius craned his neck. "This is all meant to get you courting a new girl after the Parkinson fiasco."

Draco furrowed his brow. "She told you about that?"

"She said your arrangement had been called off. I didn't ask for details." Sirius reached for a cup of whiskey, which was, sadly, not there. Muscle memory could be a right bitch, sometimes.

No drinking in front of the boy . Those were Narcissa's instructions.

Hopefully, he would make it a worthy sacrifice.

"They thought she'd be better with Theodore Nott," Draco spat. " Theodore Nott. Can you believe it?"

"The Parkinsons are all about money, and I imagine Theodore's father came into a fair bit of it when Addretta died," said Sirius. "But consider it a blessing. Your little girlfriend's mother isn't the prettiest thing, is she? That'll be your girlfriend in thirty years. Think about that. "

Draco glared at him. "I liked Pansy."

"You liked her because you were forced to like her," Sirius scoffed. "Just like I was forced to like some third cousin before I went off on my own. You've got to find a girl you picked, nobody else."

"You mean like your random neighbor that you specifically summoned me here to spend time with?"

"That's different. If you don't like her, you never have to see her again," Sirius said, and in reality, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. The more he talked to the little brat, the less sure he was the girl would like him, anyway. Keeping him around could backfire if he made the wrong move.

Draco sighed and plopped onto the couch.

"What's her name?"

"Whose name?" Sirius asked.

"The bloody girl!"

"Oh!" Sirius shook his head. "Right. Yeah, I have no bloody idea."

"What?"

"It's something absurd like yours, can never pronounce it." He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Teenage boys were supposed to be exhausting, sure, but this one — he was a special kind of annoying.

"Jesus, my father was right. You really are useless."

Sirius shrugged and placed a cigarette between his lips. "And your father's a prick. We all have our faults." He held out the pack towards Draco. "Want one?"

Draco made a face.

It was going to be a long fucking day.


Knock, knock, knock.

Sirius rocked on the balls of his feet, his stomach curdled with anxiety as he waited on Remus's porch. If his idiot cousin stepped even a toe out of line, his entire plan would be ruined — and potentially, so would anything that might have developed between him and Remus.

The lanky little prat lingered just behind him, breathing down Sirius's neck like some kind of rabid fan-girl — but not in the good way.

Finally, the door opened.

Remus beamed at them, that smile of his warming Sirius in a way he hadn't felt since his midmorning glass of Glendolough. He almost forgot about the boy that stood with him.

"Good to see you made it. How was traffic?" Remus joked.

"Terrible. Nearly missed my turn," Sirius joked back.

Remus chuckled and regarded Draco. "This must be your nephew?"

"His cousin," Draco corrected, arms crossed.

Remus looked from Draco to Sirius, clearly trying to figure out their dynamic. Eventually, he shook his head. "Right, well erm — come on inside, Sirius, Cousin — ?"

"Draco," Sirius finished, following Remus inside the house. "Came all the way from Wiltshire. He's a bit shy. You know how those posh schools are — same small group of rich brats for years, makes them a bit insociable."

"I'm not insociable!" Draco argued.

"That's what they all say," Sirius feigned a laugh. He tailed Remus towards the living room, mentally noting there were far fewer boxes than before, though many still lingered in the corners. "Teenagers will be teenagers. Anyway, Remus — how have you been? Still liking the neighborhood?"

"Yes!"

Remus crossed the threshold, passing some of the newly hung art. The living room looked almost functional now — with throw blankets and a coffee table to boot. Apparently, he'd been working hard to get settled in; the thought made Sirius giddy. It wasn't a temporary stop in he and his ward's journey. They were there to stay.

"We're getting back into the swing of everything," Remus continued, "figuring out where everything is. Sybill still won't stop with the staring, though. Hermione caught her in the yard, peeking in our windows, claimed she was hoping to borrow a cup of flour."

"Who's Sybill?" Draco asked.

"Our neighbor," Sirius answered.

"Your neighbor is a peeping tom?" Draco asked. He glared at Sirius. "Should've expected."

"She's eccentric," Sirius replied. "And you shouldn't be so quick to judge. Your Aunt Bellatrix went to jail for something like that."

"Aunt Bellatrix is as mad as they come, that doesn't make your freak neighbor any better."

"This Bellatrix sounds like quite the character," Remus jested.

"Ah, she's a piece of work," Sirius muttered. He glanced at Remus. "So er — is your girl here?"

"She is, yes. She's supposed to be coming down —" He glanced at the VCR clock. "— any minute now, I reckon. Can I get either of you anything while we wait? Tea? Beer?"

"Beer sounds ace," Sirius said. "What about you, nephew? Tea?"

"Actually, a beer sounds good to me too," Draco said smugly.

"Absolutely not. Your mother would kill me."

"My mother isn't here," Draco challenged, "but she is just a phone call away."

Remus's eyes darted between the two of them, flummoxed.

"Unfortunately, I'm not sure I can serve a beer to a boy whose mother wouldn't want him drinking it," he said. "Happy to make you a tea, though."

Draco raised his eyebrows at Sirius. "Will I be drinking tea then, uncle? "

Sirius wanted to throttle him. The little wanker was certainly Lucius's child, there was no denying it.

"You know, actually a tea would be great for me too," he conceded. "Thank you."

Remus loitered there for a brief moment, a confused frown written on his face. Finally, he nodded and said, "Yes, you're welcome. I'll go put it on."

As soon as he left the room, Sirius closed in on Draco.

"What the devil are you doing?"

"Mother didn't want me with you if you're drinking. Either we both drink or none of us do," Draco decided.

"You little —" He sucked in a deep breath. "All right, fine. When Hermaneen comes down —"

"Her name was Hermione, you twit," Draco grit out. "He just said it."

"Hermany, that's what I said."

"No, it's not Hermany either. It's Hermione — like the daughter of Menelaus and Helen."

"Of who?"

"The King of Sparta and Helen of Troy! Did you learn nothing in school?"

"I learned plenty, but when information is bloody useless it tends not to stick," Sirius hissed.

"Classic mythology isn't useless, it's prime conversational material —"

"Kettle's on!" Remus said, sliding back into the room. He raised his eyebrows at them. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"No, not at all," Sirius said quickly, pasting on a smile. "We were just talking about how nicely the living room's come around."

Draco made a face. Sirius ignored him.

"Ah, yes, it's getting there," Remus said, looking around at his handiwork. He gestured a painting of an old staircase. "I finally dug out some of the art from all the boxes. Forgot how much I had in storage, actually. Was pleased to find some gems."

"They look great," Sirius said. "They really er — they really fill it out."

"Yes, it certainly needs it. Too much empty space, can only stand it for so long."

"Well, you're doing a great job. Really impressed with what you'd done with the place."

"Thanks." Remus put his hand on his hip and peered towards the hall. "I'm almost tempted to go fetch her. Blasted girl spends hours complaining she doesn't know anyone then doesn't even come down when she has a guest."

"We don't mind waiting," Sirius said.

"Yeah, all right," Remus murmured, glancing at the VCR clock once more. He pursed his lips. "I'll be right back. Do make yourselves at home. Lord knows we can't break in that monster of a sofa by ourselves."

He stepped into the hallway. Stairs creaked.

"You complimented this living room? Are you mental?" Draco asked.

"No, it's called being polite," Sirius said, making his way to the sofa. "Something you could certainly stand to do, yourself."

"As if I'm going to take etiquette lessons from you. " He crossed his arms. "What's your deal with this bloke? Are you trying to bum drugs from him or something?"

"Keep your voice down!" Sirius hissed.

"I just don't understand why I'm here," Draco whispered. "My mother thought you were trying to shag someone, but so far, all I've seen is a dumpy house and this weird old man that fawns over fucking mall art!"

"I've already told you why you're here," Sirius muttered. "Now, please, just sit down and be quiet. Enjoy the mall art. And if you're incapable of that, enjoy the fact you're not cooped up in that prison of an estate your family holes up in."

"I'm supposed to be grateful I'm here instead of at the manor? I knew you were mad, but honestly, you're certifiable."

"Just shut up and socialize with people that don't like the smell of their own shit for once. If you give it a chance, you might like it." Sirius leaned back. "Who knows. You might even learn something."

"You think I'll learn something? Here? "

Sirius shrugged. "You might."

"Bullshit. Tell me why I'm here or I'll page my mother."

Sirius glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

He pulled a beeper from his pocket, brandishing it the same way someone may brandish a firearm in an action movie. It really was rather pathetic.

"Try me."

More pathetic yet was Sirius, who was genuinely scared of the damn thing.

He rubbed his forehead. "Okay, look —"

But the stairs started to creak again, cutting their conversation off at the legs. Murmurs echoed from the stairwell.

". . . and you can at least give him a chance. He's come all the way from Wiltshire."

The creaking stopped, and soft footsteps sounded through the short hallway. Remus and the girl entered the room. She looked annoyed — that was until her eyes landed on Draco.

They widened.

"Hermione, this is Draco," Remus said.

Sirius eyed his young cousin. Draco looked surprised too — or as surprised as his pointed, pompous face could look.

"Lovely to meet you," he breathed, gliding forward. He offered his hand.

She shook it slowly. "Pleasure."

"Draco here goes to Smeltings," Sirius pointed out.

"How prestigious," she said. Smiling, she added, "You must've had excellent marks to get in there. "

Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Sirius interjected.

"Excellent marks — and a lot of money. Heaps of it. Helps someone from the family donated a building, I went there myself." He grinned. "Bottom of my class."

The girl's lip curled.

"Impressive." She turned back to Draco. "Anyway, my room is upstairs. I have a CD player, if you'd like to come up and listen to some music with me?"

Draco nodded, a bit too enthusiastically — so enthusiastically, in fact, that Sirius nearly jabbed him with his elbow. If he got too far ahead of himself, he could ruin Sirius's plan just as quickly as he could if he wasn't interested in the girl at all.

Fortunately, his response was measured. Well, measured enough anyway.

"Yes, that does sound preferable to listening to my cousin waffle on about his poor academics."

Hermione smiled a bit, holding in laughter as she turned and led him towards the hall. Draco followed in earnest.

"That was hardly a waffle," Sirius scoffed, "more of an anecdote. But yes, you two go have fun now!"

"And keep the door open a couple of inches!" Remus yelled after them.

"Remus!" the girl yelped, embarrassed.

Sirius sighed.

"Kids."

"The age of defiance," Remus agreed, crossing his arms. "Not much we can do to stop it."

They heard the slam of the door. He shook his head.

"Case and point," he muttered.

The tea kettle whistled.

"If you want to go talk with her, I don't mind handling the tea," offered Sirius. "Or if you need me to wrangle my idiot nephew, I'm happy to do that as well. He's a good kid, but I saw the way he looked at her."

Remus stretched, his knees cracking, a solid reminder of their age. "I'll go up in a few minutes. Not like they'll be getting up to much just yet . . . She wouldn't allow it." He headed towards the kitchen and added, "And trust me when I say she knows how to handle herself!"

"I'll take your word," Sirius said, bemused.

The kettle stopped screeching, and the clunking of opening and closing cupboard doors filled the air.

Sirius could get used to the feeling of Remus preparing him tea. He could get used to being in this house, of being around someone he found absolutely mesmerizing even when he did the simplest of things.

Hopefully, Draco and the girl got along well enough. If they did, that spelled more opportunities for Sirius to visit. Plus, the girl would be distracted by the blond-headed little git, meaning he and Remus —

Remus trudged into the room, two steaming cups in hand.

"Here we are," he said, handing one to Sirius. "I hope Earl Grey is all right — I'm afraid I don't have anything else."

Sirius cradled the warm ceramic in his hands.

"Plenty all right. One of my favorites."

Remus nodded. "Mine too . . . I'll take Draco his in a few minutes." He sat down. "Gives me an excuse to check on them."

"Good thinking. You just can't trust teenagers," Sirius said. "I only say that because I remember being one — and it wasn't all that long ago I saw how they acted at my shows. Disgusting little perverts, they are."

"Try raising one," Remus grumbled. "She's not your typical teenager, of course. Nothing that's concerned me, but still quite the handful in her own right. Naggery, mostly."

"So I've seen."

"I suppose I shouldn't complain. Of all the children I could've ended up with, she's probably the most responsible." He took a sip of tea. "The only reason I don't smoke in the house is because she's forbade it. Suppose I should thank her for keeping the walls white."

"The trick is dark walls," Sirius said, tapping his temple. "Doesn't keep the stink out of the curtains, but you can't turn navy yellow."

"Something to consider when she moves out, I reckon," Remus laughed. He set his cup down on the coffee table. "So what's new across the street? Anything exciting?"

"Not really. Rarely do much nowadays," Sirius admitted. "Ordered some new parts for my bike. Mostly cosmetics, but a couple of fun things to make her purr."

"Sounds ace."

"You like motorcycles?"

"Never been on one, if I'm honest," Remus answered. "Nothing against them, just haven't had the opportunity."

"Well, consider this an opportunity, then!" Sirius grinned. "Would be happy to take you for a spin sometime. Well, when we aren't babysitting those two, obviously." He vaguely gestured the hallway that led to the stairs.

Remus smiled. "Maybe I'll take you up on it. Suppose it's something everyone should do once or twice, isn't it?"

"Or always," Sirius cut in. "You'll see what I mean when we get out there." He took a sip of tea and wagged a finger. "You don't know what freedom feels like until you've been on a bike. The wind in your hair, the roar of the engine, a bine in the mouth — it's like heroin, but without the sick part."

"That good, is it?" Remus asked.

" Good doesn't even begin to touch it. It's incredible. "

"You're really selling me on it," said Remus. "You know, I saw something in the Daily Mail about Americans driving from coast to coast out there. Is that even feasible? I can't imagine driving up mountains and the like on one."

"They do it all the time," Sirius confirmed. "Would love to do it someday myself, dunno if I ever will."

"Seems like it's a matter of just getting a flight and going," Remus quipped. "You're wealthy, no kids or anything. There's no reason you couldn't do it."

Sirius chewed on his lip. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

He decided not to tell Remus he'd spent most of his money. Silence fell between them.

Remus cleared his throat. "That door's been shut for a while, hasn't it?"

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"Hermione's door," Remus said. He stood and jerked his head towards the hallway. "I'm just going to go check on them. Like you said earlier . . . teenagers."

"I'll come along," Sirius decided.

Together, they went up the stairs, prepared to face the children in question. Truthfully, Sirius was relieved Draco liked that swot of a girl. It seemed like a miracle.

Nevertheless, it had led to new concerns.

He inhaled sharply, hoping that what they discovered in that room was nothing unsavory. Sometimes, he really didn't think his schemes through.

Remus stopped in front of a door by the top of the stairwell. The sound of muffled pop music leaked out into the atmosphere. He knocked twice.

"Hermione?" he called. "Hermione, open the —"

The door flew open. The girl looked up at him, eyes aflame with something akin to fury.

"Did you need something?" she snapped.

"I told you leave your door open," Remus said.

"Yeah, sorry," she said plainly. She leaned in the doorframe. "I closed it out of habit, I'll leave it open."

Remus peered past her, curiosity radiating from him. Sirius tried to see inside the room too, but between Remus and the girl standing in the way, there was no catching a glimpse of his cousin.

"Are you two getting along okay?" Remus asked, craning his neck.

"Erm — yes," she admitted. Her face reddened. "Actually, I was wondering if we had plans tomorrow."

"I don't think so," Remus answered. "Why?"

"Well," the girl started. She averted her gaze. "Draco would like to take me out tomorrow. Just to the cinema — if that's all right."

Sirius wasn't sure if he was going to be giddy or ill. Had his plan actually worked? Did he, despite all of his mistakes in life, make the match that would bring him closer to Remus? He considered pinching himself. He had to be dreaming.

"Oh!" Remus said, surprised. "Yes, of course it's all right. I er — I hope you two have fun."

"Okay, brilliant," she said. She raised her eyebrows. "Was that all you wanted? The door open?"

"Yes, just that. So I er — I guess we'll leave you to it then." Remus turned on his heel and brandished a threatening finger. "Two inches!"

The hinges creaked as she closed the door, leaving it open just a crack.

Sirius pinched himself. He wasn't dreaming.


It had been two hours since Draco had been dropped off. Actually, it had been three. Sirius noticed this when Remus started to make an early dinner.

"I suppose we ought to get out of your hair and let you eat, then," Sirius called out, knowing good and well he couldn't phone Narcissa in front of Remus.

"You're welcome to stay," Remus replied, crossing into the room from the kitchen. He put a hand on his hip. "I'm making pasta — always boil far too much, there'll be plenty for everyone."

"I wish we could. Unfortunately, I need to get Draco back before his mother has a coronary." Sirius stood — and he meant what he said. It was unfortunate. "She can be a bit of a worry-wart. Well, you're a teacher, you know how these mums are nowadays, much different than when we were kids."

"I'm aware," Remus muttered. "I suppose I might meet her tomorrow, if she's bringing Draco back."

"Doubt it," Sirius said. "Usually, it's his father toting him about. And he's worse, so you may want to steer clear . . . If you're lucky, it'll just be their driver, though."

"Their driver? " Remus repeated.

"I told you they were rich."

"That's er — well, I honestly thought that was just something people did in the movies — like those Wall Street blokes."

"His father likes to pretend he's a Wall Street bloke," Sirius scoffed, "but he's all old money. Has probably lost more of it than he's gained."

Remus shook his head. "I can't imagine." He exhaled. "Well, if you really must go, I can go fetch the kids, if you'd like."

"That would be great, actually. Shall I put my cup in the sink?"

Remus waved him off and headed towards the hallway. "You can leave it there. I'll pick it up later."

"Yeah, all right."

Sirius rocked on his heels as he waited for Remus to return with Draco. As short-lived as it was, it had been a good day. They spoke of music and politics, books and motorcycles. They even liked the same types of cigars, of which Sirius very much planned to smoke with him.

Remus was everything Sirius could've wanted.

Now that his scheme was working, he needed to see it through.

"It was nice to meet you, Draco," Sirius heard the girl say.

Several feet were pounding down the stairs. Apparently, she liked him so much she was seeing him out. That was a good sign.

"The pleasure was all mine. I'm looking forward to tomorrow."

"Yes, me too."

The three of them walked in, a smile stretched across Remus's face, the girl's cheeks pink, and Draco looking a little too haughty.

"Ready to get back?" Sirius asked him.

"I was happy to stay," Draco grit out, "but Mr. Lupin said you needed to get back home."

"We do. Your mother was quite explicit in her instructions."

Draco clenched his jaw. He was keen to page his mother when he wanted to be a prat, but just as keen to defy her when some swottish girl was involved. He reminded Sirius a bit of his younger brother — well, before the cocaine.

"Fine," Draco said at last. He bowed his head at Remus and the girl. "Thank you again, for being such gracious hosts. I had an excellent time."

The girl flushed even brighter. "Thanks for coming."

Sirius and Remus were less formal.

"Remus."

"Sirius," he echoed. "I'll walk you to the door."

The two cousins headed for the front door — regrettably, but willingly. Remus followed suit, his hands deep in his pockets.

"Was good to have you both," he said. "Maybe we'll do it again soon, after their little cinema trip."

Sirius parked in front of the door. "Yes, that sounds lovely. I'm sure we'd like that."

"We would," Draco agreed, a little too eagerly.

Remus smiled. "Good. Well, I'll be seeing you soon then, neighbor."

Sirius nodded. "Yes. Soon."

They slipped out the door and down the steps, both ignoring Sybill as she gawked at them from her porch. The late afternoon sun kissed their skin, and success quenched Sirius to his bones.

"You actually fancy her," he said.

"You suggested she wasn't pretty," Draco retorted.

"I'm assuming you think she is then?"

"Come on, Black, you have eyes. I was entirely unprepared!"

"Doesn't seem to have mattered."

"You're right, it didn't. Too bad you sent him in to cut things short," he muttered.

"Blame your mother," Sirius replied. "If I had it my way, we wouldn't be leaving, but if we don't call her and let her know you aren't dead in a ditch, she'll make a necklace of my bollocks."

Draco grimaced. "Do you always have to be so crass?"

"Of course I do," Sirius said, climbing the steps to his house. "I wouldn't be me if I weren't."

"Not being you doesn't sound half-bad," Draco said coolly.

"Even after I do you a favor, still with the attitude," Sirius said, shaking his head. He paused and furrowed his brow. "We really are related, aren't we?"