Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I also don't own the movie The Secret of Moonacre or the novel The Little White Horse, they belong to Warner Bros and Elizabeth Goudge respectively. There might be some elements from the movie Maleficent and its sequel, they belong to Disney.

The only thing I really took from The Little White Horse is the map of Moonacre.

Na Gealaí - 'Of the moon' in Irish according to google translate

The exchange rate for galleons is based on the page on Wizarding currency on .com

Thoughts/Dreams

§§§

Vivianne shivered and tucked her cloak tighter around herself. She could see her breath fogging the air in front of her. Silently, she thanked her Uncle for insisting she bring gloves with her, or her fingers would be freezing right now.

She resisted the urge to fidget and stared at the guards painstakingly rummaging through her bag. She was damn sure they were being slow on purpose. Must not have appreciated Malcolm hexing them.

The guards were supposed to pat down all visitors for contraband, but she was the monarch of a foreign nation and they had no right to touch her, much less demand she show her face. As if they knew what she was supposed to look like, her signet ring was all the proof of identity they needed.

Malcolm had been more than happy to forcefully remind them of that, her bodyguard was very protective.

"Done," sneered one of the guards.

The other one was looking at her with the same concern he had since she got here. "Are you sure you want to see him, miss?"

She could feel Malcolm bristling, so she raised a hand to stop him from giving a scathing reply. "The correct form of address is 'Your Majesty'." She watched him flush in embarrassment as this was the second time she had to remind him. One more and she'd start taking it as an insult. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here."

"Leave her," ordered the other guard, obviously his superior. Lower, he mumbled, "might do us the favor of killing him."

Vivianne pretended she hadn't heard, she didn't doubt that everyone privy to her visit, British Minister included, believed she was here to do just that. Their families' feud was legendary, and before the fall of the Dark Lord and the subsequent incarceration of his followers, her family had been losing.

She was the only one still alive.

The rude guard led her down the corridor from the apparition and check-in point to the visitor room. There was only one in Azkaban, since even the most devout lover or filial child would not want to visit often: the effect of the Dementors could be felt even here, on the lower floor where those fiends didn't patrol.

Vivianne couldn't help but turn her nose up at the prison, they might be criminals, but no one deserved to be here, not even the bitch who murdered her predecessor, no matter what her Uncle thought (she wouldn't argue though, not when the woman had murdered his younger sister and was the reason her Uncle had to commit ritualistic suicide).

She ignored the guard telling her to scream if she needed help. As if! Malcolm was perfectly capable of protecting her and she wasn't as defenceless as he seemed to think.

The man sitting at the lone table in the room had a mass of filthy, matted black hair that fell down past his shoulders. His cheeks were sunken, the skin around his eyes was stretched tout, it looked like his eyes would pop out any moment. His skin was dirty, but you could still see he was unhealthily pale beneath all that grime.

She lowered the hood of her cloak as Malcolm closed the door behind them. The obfuscation charm on the material made it impossible for anyone to see her face beneath the hood, they'd just see shadows.

"Come to gloat?" His voice sounded raspy, like he hadn't used it in a long time. "Can't say I blame you, but you might want to speak to Bellatrix." He seemed to think about it and laughed to himself, "Maybe not, she's so delusional she might not get it."

Vivianne sat down in the seat opposite him, Malcolm moving to stand straight behind Sirius Black in case he became violent.

"I called for a parley; Lady Magic would not allow it if I wasn't serious about it."

"I'm Sirius," he whispered.

"I'm sure that joke stopped being funny after the 100th time you said it." She was ignoring how he had been talking too low to be speaking to anyone but himself. "You are the last Black male, and as of the death of your father and brother in 1979, the Heir Apparent to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. In the absence of a Lord, it is you I have to speak to."

He hummed, "Don't see why. As you said, I'm the last heir. I'll die here and the Black family will go extinct. Feud over."

She raised a brow, "No it won't. The feud will end only when one of the families becomes extinct. Completely. Your cousin Narcissa has a son, he stands to inherit House Black in the event of your death. If not him, Nymphadora Tonks, daughter of Andromeda Black can have a son who will take over the Lordship. She is a Metamorphmagus, proof that Andromeda was never magically disinherited and her line is now an unofficial cadet branch of House Black." She needed him invested in this, "Of course, your godson, Heir Potter can also inherit the title."

The reaction was immediate, he threw himself towards her, hands outstretched as if to strangle her and teeth bared in a snarl. Malcolm was fast to grab his shoulders and forcefully push him back down in his seat.

"I don't want to hurt him," Not right now, "I don't want to hurt anyone if I don't have to," I'm no sadist "but even now, your family outnumbers mine. I'm the last one left and I refuse to have this feud hanging over mine or my future children's heads. It must end."

"How exactly?" he asked suspiciously, "You asked for a parley, but the only way this can end is if the Blacks all die or get disinherited." He lifted his chained wrists to her before gesturing to the room around them, "can't exactly help you with that."

"I need you to officially become Lord Black and marry me."

He gaped. Ugh, his teeth are yellow. A potion should take care of that.

"We bond and the Black family will be absorbed by the Merryweathers and it's over. Problem solved."

"The fuck!" he cursed, "How old are you? 5?"

She understood his disbelief, she really did but, "5? How tall do you think 5 years olds are? I'm 12."

He waved a hand to show he didn't care about the details. "That's still too young."

"Not in my kingdom. I'm the Queen, I can do what I want." She wasn't joking. Sure, there were lines she couldn't cross if she didn't want the Goddess to strip her of her powers and die, but this didn't even touch them.

"At least you're speaking normally now." he groused.

She shrugged, not willing to admit that she sounded so stiff before because she had that speech memorised. I'm nervous, ok? Knowing what to say helps… I really need to stop talking to myself.

"I'll get you your freedom." she offered.

"What?" he sounded disbelieving.

She raised a brow, "We can't get married if you're stuck here. The Ministry threw you in here without a trial, there will be an outcry from the purebloods if they admit it, Minister Fudge won't risk his career. He was the first on the scene so if it comes out you're innocent and you never got a trial…" Even though Fudge didn't really have anything to do with this. She paused to let that sink in before continuing. "Dumbledore thinks you're a Death Eater, he won't get justice for you." Almost done,"Remus Lupin believes you're a traitor, that you killed James and Lily Potter, that you murdered Peter Pettingrew when he tried to avenge them." Now, for the final touch, "Doesn't it bother you," she was honestly curious about this, "that the real traitor gets to be free and you're stuck in this hell?" With his Animagus form he can get out any time, why exactly is he staying here?

His gray eyes seemed to become clear and bright, from storm clouds to polished silver. "You know? How?"

She shrugged, "Does it matter?"

Surprisingly, rather than looking happy someone knew, he sagged into his seat. "No one will believe it. They all think I'm guilty, I'm never getting a trial."

"I can get you a trial," she said confidently. "Three drops of Veritaserum and there will be no doubt about your innocence." She smiled at him, "Don't you want to get out of here? To see the sky, breathe some fresh air, raise Harry?" If I decide not to kill the bastard.

He looked so sad. She remembered the smiling teenager and man in the pictures her spies brought her. Sirius Black should always have a mischievous smile on his face. She frowned, not knowing where that thought came from.

"I'd still be an ex-convict, they won't let me take him."

Can't wait for him to be out of here and away from the Dementors. "You're Heir Black, you will be Lord Black and they threw you in here without a trial. Once we marry, you will be my concubine, they'll be all over themselves to give you what you want and avoid pissing me off. Britain doesn't have the political clout to deny me."

They really, really didn't. Dumbledore was still Chief Mugwump thanks to defeating Grindelwald, but Britain was the laughingstock of the Magical World. Moonacre might not be the most important country, but they were allied with MACUSA, the Japanese Ministry and the Russian Ministry.

Britain had no allies, France in particular was still holding a grudge against Dumbledore for intervening only after Grindelwald and his followers had already invaded their country. Especially since he never really explained why it took him so long, he only ever offered meaningless platitudes.

Black still didn't look convinced.

"Does my age really bother you that much?" she asked him. She thought he'd jump at the chance to get out. "It's not like I'm expecting anything. We will Bond, but we'll be married in name only."

"Don't you need a Heiress?" he asked her.

She blinked. So that's the problem. "There are other methods for that, you won't even have to touch me." Silly human "You can have your own lover and I can have mine, so long as there are no bastards on your part there won't be a problem."

"Just mine?" there was a hint of a sardonic smirk on his lips.

"Any child of mine will be of royal blood, yours won't." Her family didn't consider their bastards to be something to keep hidden. They were family and that's all that mattered. "You have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

She sat back and watched him as he thought it over. She understood his hesitance, she found it admirable really, but theirs wouldn't be a proper marriage. This was a business transaction.

"Ok," he said.

"Ok?" She wanted to check.

He looked her in the eye, his eyes were steady and fierce. She didn't know if it was the idea of freedom or the prospect of raising his godson, but something had relit the fire in him.

He smirked at her, a mischievous grin, no less bright than the one in the pictures, "They'll never see this coming."

She laughed, she couldn't help it.

§§§

Vivianne sighed and threw her cloak on the back of the couch in her office as she sank down into it, munching on the chocolate a worried Mei-Rin had pushed into her hands as soon as she'd returned from Azkaban.

"So?" asked her lady-in-waiting anxiously.

"He agreed," she told him, "I'll be going there tomorrow with Corvin to write up the prenuptial agreement."

She looked up at that, "Not Cassius?"

She nodded, "Sirius will be my concubine, not my Consort."

"That's true." she conceded. "You should take a nap, Your Majesty, just being in proximity to a Dementor can sap your energy and you have a meeting with the Minister of Finance in two hours"

She nodded and curled up on the couch. It was warm.

§§§

"Robin!" yelled mama.

"Maria, run!" dada yelled back.

Mama was shaking, her curls caressed my cheeks. I was scared.

Mama was running, it was cold and she slipped. I screamed as we almost hit the ground.

"Shush, baby. Mama's here," she sobbed. Her tears were warm on my cheeks.

"Mama," I was crying too, "where's dada?"

She didn't answer.

She held me tight as she ran down the steps into the pool. I whimpered, the water was cold.

Mama looked up at the full moon shining through the hole in the ceiling. There were women looking down on us, tall marble statues arranged in a circle above us.

She laid me down in the water. "Mama," I cried, not wanting her to leave me.

Mama didn't look at me. She was still crying, looking up at the moon and chanting.

The water started glowing, bubbling, it was hot. Too hot.

I screamed as the water dragged me under.

The last thing I saw was Mama looking down at me with a smile that turned into a grimace.

There was a red flower blooming on her white gown.

"Mama" I tried to scream as the water choked me, filling my lungs.