"Ah, well I'll be damned! If it isn't Abraxas Malfoy himself, in flesh and bones!" Cygnus Black grinned as he prepared to exit Gringotts. He extended a hand and shook Malfoy's own. He couldn't have been happier to meet the father of his son-in-law, especially after having learnt just a few days ago that his daughter was expecting a boy.

Cygnus had always been a bit jealous, he had to admit to himself, that he had only been able to have girls, yet he was proud that both of the daughters that he still considered as his married into reputable families.

And he knew, from his Hogwarts days and until the late Aurora Malfoy died, that she had been much beloved by Abraxas - if Lucius held even a tenth of that love for Narcissa, Cygnus was sure that his youngest was in good hands privately - as societally, well, she married well indeed!

Whilst at the beginning Cygnus had been disappointed in Narcissa not having been a boy, to the extent he did not even prepare a name for a daughter, and merely named her after seeing a female name scribbled under a portrait of one of St. Mungo's founders, by the time she had become a woman he grew to love her most out of his daughters. She was of a more emotive and caring type, taking after his wife's side of the family, whereas Bellatrix took after his own kin, to the point Cygnus felt that he was looking at a younger Walburga.

Cygnus still remembered the rift between the Lestrange and Malfoy families caused by Walburga back when they were all students, and was quite happy that Bellatrix had not taken after his older sister in spreading unfounded rumours and filthy gossip.

After all, Cygnus couldn't forget the letter Abraxas told him in which, under no uncertain terms, Walburga specifically was to be kept away from Narcissa and Lucius's wedding, through all means possible. They all were aware by that point that Walburga was even more bitter than usual, after her eldest son was known to have become a staunch follower of Dumbledore, and her younger one was seemingly becoming a recluse, talking to his House-Elf more than his own family.

With Alphard staunchly in favour of remaining childless and Druella not wanting to bear him any more children, Cygnus feared his family line was slowly dwindling. The announcement of his grandson's upcoming birth came as a breath of fresh air, and he was more than excited to be able to spoil the kid rotten.

"Let me buy you a drink!"

"At this hour?"

"No such thing as an inappropriate time to celebrate the announcement of our shared grandson." Cygnus grinned as he finally let go of Malfoy's hand and twirled at his moustache. "Unless, of course, I interrupt any important business."

"No, not that, my friend, of course not." Abraxas responded without looking at him and motioning towards someone behind Cygnus. "If you can just give me a moment, to settle some business…"

Cygnus Black brushed at his beard as he turned and found behind him a young, dark-haired witch looking back at him. Abraxas introduced her as Margot Gregorovitch, daughter of the famed wandmaker, however Cygnus recognised the woman from his daughter's wedding day even before the introduction.

Only back there, he had only seen her seated, her frame swallowed by a dark green dress or partly obscured by an enormous cello. Yet he remembered two things clearly about her. That she moved her head constantly to the sound of the music, as if she were tremendously enjoying it herself as an audience member, and that her eyes seemed to follow him everywhere he went. Yet when he told Druella about this, she swore she got the impression she was being followed by the musician's eyes throughout the wedding herself, and so did Bella.

Back there, however, the woman was just part of the background, together with the other musicians, a frame of a beautiful painting that was his youngest daughter's wedding day .

But now, dressed in fine iridescent robes, carrying herself with elegance, and not hiding herself so as to not overshine a bride on her wedding day, she was both the frame and painting herself, a painting of a most revered subject - A reverence of which Cygnus would become even more aware of a few years later, when he would have the same woman introduced to him as Margot Malfoy.

Now, however, Abraxas had only introduced her to Cygnus by name and fame, and avoided mentioning what certain 'business' with this woman had to be conducted at Gringotts. However, Lucius and Narcissa - Narcissa furtively, and Lucius assertively - had mentioned to him Abraxas's apparent fling, or flings, and how it could reflect badly onto their families for his father to be seen 'running around and about' with young women. And whilst Druella agreed with them, he couldn't help but be on the side of his friend.

Not wanting to shame a woman that he barely knew, especially not in front of Abraxas, Cygnus feigned politeness and aloofness, and waited until it was just the two of them, both one drink in, to finally bring the subject up.

"Well then… pray tell, old chap, are you paying the young Gregorovitch back there to serenade you through the night?"

"Perhaps I am, Cygnus. Perhaps I am…" Abraxas chuckled, before shaking his head, denying the accusation. "If you must know - and I am telling you this in the strictest of confidence, as I respect you as a close friend of mine, I took a liking to her."

"And the sky is blue, and a sleeping draught leads to a dreamless sleep. In the strictest of confidence, my friend, but any man with two working eyes would take a liking." Cygnus laughed heartily as he spoke, and ordered two more wines, which immediately appeared at their table.

"I would think so too. And to see a woman like herself travel on business on her own…" Abraxas flashed one of his sly grins, which Cygnus recognised from their youth as hiding certain intentions behind it. "A young woman, one like her, needs a companion alongside her. So I was going to Gringotts to exchange some money to foreign currencies."

"Leaving the country at such a time, Abraxas? You surprise me."

"How so?"

"With your grandson on the way…"

Abraxas waved a hand idly, taking a moment to order some firewhisky before continuing.

"Lucius wrote to me that they would let me know when the boy will be born in advance, so I could return in time for it. And since Aurora's passing, I've given enough donations to St. Mungo's in her name that they might as well put her name alongside the founders. Narcissa already is, and will receive the best care anyone could buy."

"Lucius is quite busy, however, isn't he? Druella and I have been visiting them, and many a time, it's Cissy alone opening the door until late."

"If you are looking for permission to admonish my son for how he treats your Narcissa… with this marriage between our families, he is your son now as much as mine, so please, do go ahead."

"No, Abraxas, don't misunderstand my intentions. Lucius is nothing but a gentleman with my daughter from what she says. What I meant was-"

This time, Abraxas cut him off outright.

"I know what you meant, and my point stands." Cygnus had not seen or heard Abraxas's voice take such a glacial tone since he had last spoken to Walburga. "Are you afraid, Cygnus, for them? Do you doubt them? Because I've heard what they do to doubters."

"Why would I have doubts?"

"Then what do you have against my travels?"

"I-..." Cygnus cleared his throat, and ordered a firewhisky himself, downing it before shaking his head "Nothing. Nothing at all. It was a simple thought."

"Yours, my friend, yours, or my son's?"

"Narcissa's as well, if you must insist." Cygnus replied with a sigh, wiping the alcohol from his moustache. "At least they're on the same page, husband and wife… Tell me, then, speaking of happy marriages, what are your intentions with the young Gregorovitch? Do you intend to visit her father, ask for her hand?" He laughed heartily as he spoke, and Abraxas joined in, shaking his head amused.

"I do indeed have it in the cards to make the acquaintance of the famed Mykew Gregorovitch, if I am to polish my German." Abraxas responded, continuing as he saw Cygnus's befuddled look. "Old Gregorovitch apparently does not entertain anyone in any language apart from his native ones. As for Margot… I have not decided on my intentions, but perhaps I may as well make good use of this trip and settle on them."

At least with her kind, she probably thinks herself liberated enough to not sniff for marriage the moment someone beds her. Cygnus thought, deciding to keep his commentary to himself and not insult Abraxas. Although, with the money from her father, he doubted Margot Gregorovitch fit much in the 'hungry musician' box anyway. No, even at the wedding, when he doubted he had seen the two interact much, she still wore what looked like expensive jewellery and fine, tailored garments.

"Settle on them, or settle on her?"

"Settle on whatever suits me most." Abraxas answered, flashing a grin. "And she suits me and my taste well, I'd say. In the strictest of confidence and away from your own wife, wouldn't you agree?"

In fact, the more Cygnus thought about each of them, the less he thought they formed an odd pair. Abraxas was a sly fox even in his old age, with a stare that could compel many, without the need of an Imperius curse, with his words ready to drip with either honey or venom. And whilst he hadn't talked to Margot Gregorovitch, from her demeanour, she seemed able to blend in their world, and from how deeply her stare bore into each and all of Narcissa's and Lucius's wedding guests, well, she appeared to possess the same compelling qualities as Abraxas.

He would find out weeks later that unlike Abraxas, who was born with such qualities, the musician had learnt hers.

"What's that?"

"If you're starting to lose your vision from pregnancy, Cissy, I'd recommend a visit to St. Mungo's."

Cygnus knew very well Narcissa must have recognised the book in his hands, as he had seen the name of the author before in their house's library. He had bought it from Diagon Alley right before his visit, after having had his attention caught by the cover.

"You are enormously lucky, Mr. Black, there are only about a dozen copies left." Blotts said as he rang him up. "The author is very capricious, very capricious, and only allows the publishing of a thousand copies or less for each volume. They used to sell even better before- " Blotts cleared his throat, realising who he was speaking to, and masked his changing of subject with a weak cough. "Well, people are starting to save their money, I think, I don't know. Who knows?" he mumbled.

The book was indeed quite expensive, and when he had asked, he found that indeed there was not a single copy left from any of the author's previous work on the shelves.

"Collector's items, sir, but no collector has wanted to sell yet, not that I know of."

Cygnus looked at the pitch black cover, embossed with iridescent colours was the title - 'Mourn me and love me - interviews collected from hilltops across Britain' and below it, moving caricatures of twenty or so faces done in a white ink resembling chalk, most of which he did not recognise, apart from one. Nestled between a man whose moustachio moved from left to right like a metronome and an old woman with enormous, red glasses, was a thin, long face whose eyes were etched with gold brushstrokes.

"Don't tell me you're reading those too now." Narcissa groaned as she sat at the table with difficulty.

"Just the bit."

"Which bit?"

Cygnus turned the page to one that featured a drawn sketch of Gregotovitch, in which she appeared standing upright and leaning against an enormous windowsill, purposefully avoiding to meet the gaze of the reader. She held a violin in one hand, and her finger kept tapping against it, as if she were bored with her portrait being taken for the interview. He turned the book towards Narcissa for a few seconds, before turning it back and continuing to where he left off.

"You've hired her for the wedding, my loveliest and youngest daughter." Cygnus yawned, skipping over a description of instruments he could barely pronounce the name of. "In these times we might as well know who we invite to our events and who we associate with."

"Me? I've never-... it was from the recommendation from- It was Abraxas who-"

Cygnus raised a hand to stop his daughter from continuing.

"I haven't reproached anything about it. I was merely making an observation."

Ah, there it was. At the top of the page, a drawing of two amber eyes, half closed and looking to the side, once again avoiding the gaze of the reader as they blinked slowly.

Cygnus motioned for Narcissa to come closer, and waited for his daughter to waddle and slowly sit down next to him, before he pressed his finger against a paragraph.

BA: There's been a revival of musical styles across Europe in the past fifty years or so - call and response, storytelling, bucinum, mourning songs, and improvisations - minute-second songs, as we call them. You prefer storytelling songs, but after you came to Britain, you also took after Robin 'Bunny' Lammy, in the minute-second style.

MG: I did. I've already told you how where I grew up, most wizarding musicians learnt the styles from their mothers and fathers - those around where I spent my summers were all storytelling types. Which suited me well when I started taking to minute-seconds, because I could just improvise with all the verses I already knew, and just mash them to suit my audience. Maestro Bunny was my first mentor in Britain.

BA: I thought it was Madame Sparrow.

MG: No, you're confusing things now. Sparrow 'discovered' me in Britain. I met her at a concert or other, and we got acquainted, but she never taught me, as in proper taught me. How I started playing in British circles was, she asked me to come to this wedding of a nephew of hers. 'Come listen to this girl I found on the street!' That was how she would introduce me back then to her musician friends. (laughs) 'I have this girl, I want her to sing for the bride!' I played my bit, some Turkish and Aromanian songs, rare pieces, not for any audience, but for musicians - this was a musician wedding after all, only the cream of the crop would get to play at them.

It was at that wedding that I first saw Bunny, or anyone, really, do minute-seconds. And the maestro was marvellous! He played them all like a fiddle - and they were all people in the know, musicians who had this in their blood!

I thought he knew them all. He knew about this person's pain, this other's illness, this other had a child on the way, and oh, it's a daughter, he'd go on singing 'I pity the father of a daughter' - But he had verses no one had ever heard of before - no one! He was making it all up as he went, never missing a single beat with his accordion. And this was, like I said, a musician wedding, if you miss a single beat, they throw you out! And by the end of the wedding, I told Bunny - I'll give you all the money in the world, just teach me how you do it.

BA: Minute-seconds and bucinum songs are two of the only popular styles that actively use magic, aren't they?

MG: Unless you consider certain strands of ritualistic magic to also be part of our oeuvre, as musicians. Because they do use music in certain parts - Poland, Eastern Europe, Northern Africa, Syria, Turkey, to name a few. But alas, we would be diverging into magical theory here, and I personally would not consider rituals to be 'popular music'.

I would say minute-seconds' style is the more popular one that actively uses magic, as bucinum is less accessible. Minute-seconds pulls from Legilimency, and that's no secret, you can find it in any book on wizarding musical theory.

You find a mark and start easy on them, you entrance them in a song, any song you're good at that tugs at their heart, until you bring emotions to their eyes, and read in their eyes what ails them, or what makes them happy. The more you do it, or the better you are at Legilimency, the more you can do minute-seconds on more and more people, or dig deeper, by preference. Of course, it doesn't work with everyone - some people are simply impenetrable to me, but I never saw Bunny struggle. He was a true master of the craft, may his soul rest in peace.

I watched him bring entire amphitheatres to tears or exaltation. I find it exhausting, however, and largely stopped delivering minute-seconds to large audiences.

BA: You still use it, however. You told me before that you still use the basic Legilimency from minute-seconds in your storytelling style.

MG: Once you are able to master this mild form of Legilimency, it's a useful skill to have. I use it to relate to my audience, find what to play or sing to them, what emotions they want stirred within them, fears, ills, desires.

BA: Are you not afraid as well, of finding out what could surface?

MG: I find it both exhilarating and terrifying, and one feeling feeds the other. I will just tell you this on the matter. If you can't handle human nature, warts and all, you shouldn't get into minute-seconds.

Cygnus stopped reading, and looked towards the end of the book, which dated when the interview with Gregorovitch was held. A few days after his meeting with Abraxas - there was even a small note mentioning that she was currently abroad doing field research.

"Minute-seconds, is it?" he repeated to Narcissa, who shrugged, disinterested.

"Never heard of it."

"Neither have I."

Cygnus Black never managed to hear what a minute-second song sounded like, this odd alleged Legilimency in song form, and not for lack of trying. Months later, at Margot and Abraxas's wedding, he realised that he was present at a 'musician wedding', as she described it in the book, when he recognised several faces from the chalk-like caricatures in the interview book. When he finally caught Margot alone, he told her he read her interview, and asked her about minute-seconds.

"My apologies, a bride doesn't sing at her own wedding, Mister Black. It's considered bad luck."

"Who else here sings them, then?"

"At this celebration? No one. In the times we currently live in, no one has been singing minute-seconds for a couple of years now. People are too afraid to stir anything, and people are too afraid to have anything buried too deep brought up, so they stop." Margot took a sip of her mead, and looked around to the wedding guests, before adding with a smile back at Cygnus. "You may be the only wedding guest on Abraxas's side that would wish for minute-seconds to be sung, mister Black."

"Why would I?" he asked, taking a sip of his own drink as he caught her stare and stood unflinching. Dig, blushing bride, there is nothing but pride for the times we live in within me, as it should be for you too. "Would you not think, Miss Malfoy, that they would be sung in the tones of victory?"

Margot Malfoy did not answer his question, simply continuing to nurse her drink. But Cygnus understood everything he needed from the lack of an answer.

"Songs of pride make for the most boring kind." came a voice from behind, and Cygnus turned to see Abraxas, in the company of a small moustachioed man, with a lute slung across his shoulder. "They have nothing but false vanity sprawled across them."

"Spoken like from the books, mister Malfoy." grinned the man next to him, and Cygnus faked a short laugh in the presence of his friend, before moving onto another subject, asking him whether he planned to remain in England, or if they were still travelling.

"After the scare with Draco, I think we may remain here for the foreseeable." Abraxas said, turning his head towards Narcissa, who was holding the infant in her arms.