"So," Sirius dropped down onto the sofa, startling Hermione. She eyed him warily. "I..ah…have some things that I'm meant to teach you and…well." he breathed out a harsh breath, "Reggie was always better at these lessons than I was. I fucking hated them truth be told. Probably something to do with the fact my mother was beyond insane and overly fond of pain as a punishment." Hermione blanched, "Not an example I intend to follow!" he rushed out quickly. "Gods," he groaned, "I…right. Can I reiterate that I have no idea what I'm doing?"

She gave a reluctant huff of laughter, "Will you tell me about him?" she asked quietly, her entire body tense.

"Reggie?" Sirius checked, expecting the hesitant nod when it came. "What do you want to know?"

She shrugged, not looking at him. "I don't…I don't know anything."

He grimaced at that, raising his wand to cast a silent accio that sent a photo floating into his hand. "That was him just after he turned fifteen. Kracher might know if there are older ones, I ah…well. I left at sixteen." she hummed, studying the picture. "You have his cheekbones,'' Sirius mused, before tugging on a curl, "The Black hair. Saul's eyes of course," he peered over at the photo, "You have the same shape of face."

"He looks sad."

Sirius stilled, "I imagine he probably was," he admitted "Your grandmother was not kind," he snorted, "That might be the biggest understatement I've ever uttered. She was….sadistic. And discipline was relegated to witches in our time, fathers only got involved if they had to."

"Did yours?"

"Occasionally," he allowed with a pained expression,. "He was…far less vicious than Mother truth be told. BUt both of them had unreasonably high expectations. A Black had to be perfect, there was no room for personality, for original thought. You followed the, quite frankly disturbing, family doctrine or they beat it into you. Reggie, unlike me, did not fight them. I think he saw what they did to me and decided he didn't want it. SO he behaved. ANd I…gods. I hated him for it, Little Bird. And...now….now I know he was just trying to survive. He was so soft, Reggie. He wanted to be liked, loved. He was best at transfiguration, and loved care of magical creatures. Adored Kreacher and advocated for House elf rights. Quietly obviously, but he hated to see them mistreated. He loved quidditch and could spend more hours in the library than you. Cissa was his favourite, or rather he was hers. They used to debate charms for bloody hours. He was…he hated the way witches were sold off to the highest bidder. Merlin I remember him threatening Lucius. He was this scrawny little boy, there were seven years between them you know? And whatever he said had Lucy promising to behave. I'm sure some of it was humouring him but it was still entertaining to watch." he jumped when he felt a hand slide into his, belatedly realising he was crying. Squeezing it, he continued. "He was a Death Eater but I have no idea whether he became one because he believed or because he was just doing what he was told. Either way, it got him killed. And I…I'm sorry you don't get to meet him," he gave a wet laugh, "He used to speak about having kids. It was…odd. I wanted to fly and he was dreaming of the future. He used to tell me he'd have three. And he didnt care if he had girls like Uncle Cygnus, they were going to be clever and beautiful and do anything they wanted to do. It was as close to a rebellion as I ever heard him. He'd have adored you, you know?"

He bit back a sob when a mass of curls hit him just under his chin, his niece sobbing onto his chest. It was all he could do not to join her.

Two days later, keeping with the theme of the week, they were all congregated in one of the sitting rooms. Harry had cajoled Remus into teaching him chess in the hopes of not being decimated by Ron just once, Sirius, for once was still, frowning as he bent over a sheaf of information Andromeda had sent him on the last several years of Wizengamot voting. He didn't look thrilled to be doing it, next to him Hermione was lost in a book Saul had left on rituals, Crooks curled into a ball on her lap. They all jumped when someone cleared their throat.

"Oh for fucks sake," Sirius growled, eyeing the portrait with distaste.

"I hear I have a new granddaughter no one was aware of," a snotty voice informed the room.

"Gods Little Bird," Sirius groaned quietly, "I'm so sorry." Raising his voice, he gestured towards the portrait, "Meet Phineas Nigellus Black your….Great-great-great Grandfather. I think. I might have missed a great in there."

"You did not," the portrait retorted, gazing disdainfully out into the room, "Well then, let's be having a look at you child." With a wary glance at her uncle, Hermione stood, moving closer cautiously. "You look like a Black," he mused, looking something close to pleased. "Name?"

"Oh. I ah…Hermione Aquila…Sir."

He hummed, "Previously Hermione Granger, no?"

She looked startled but nodded. "Yes sir."

"Minerva is rather fond of you. If the rumours are to be believed you're not lacking in intelligence. Sirius!"

"Grandfather?" Sirius huffed.

"What match have you procured for the girl?"

"Regulus believed any daughter of his should find her own match," he offered blandly.

Inside his frame, Phineas spluttered, "Absolutely not! It is your duty as Paterfamilias to see the girl well situated!"

"Not without her fathers say so," Sirius countered.

"Her father is dead!"

"Her mother is dead. Saul croaker is her father."

Comically the portrait froze. "Pardon?"

"Ah Department of mysteries secrets," he grinned. "Now, Hermione is all of thirteen and therefore has at least two more years before we begin worrying about matches. Although I do intend to honour Reggies wishes and allow her to choose her own spouse. Or none at all Little Bird," he shrugged, "If you want four hundred kneazles and a library, that's your choice."

Harry choked on a laugh behind them as Phineas stormed out of his frame muttering about lack of proprietary and insolent grandchildren.

"Will they all think like that?" Hermione asked hesitantly, staring at the empty frame.

"Probably," he shrugged, "But I'm shacking up with a werewolf. Let them. YOu don't need to listen."

She hummed looking pensive. "But children…they are going to be expected, aren't they?"

Siris frowned, "Not if you don't want them, little bird." he knew he was missing something from the look on her face but he had no idea what. Privately deciding to speak to Remus later he let it drop, coercing her into helping him make sense of Andy's information by pouting exaggeratedly and bemoaning his own lack of interest until he drew a faint smile from her and she capitulated and began bossing him into reading the information in an order she decided made sense.

"What do you think was wrong with Hermione earlier?"

Remus sighed, settling himself into the bed trying to decide how best to word it. "With what bit?" he asked finally.

"The children thing."

Remus hummed expecting that, "She's thirteen, perhaps children aren't something she's considered.

"But." Sirius prompted.

"But…" Remus sighed, "Have you ever considered she ah…might not be particularly interested in a traditional marriage.."

"Not interested in a traditional marriage…Moons talk sense!"

Remus sighed heavily, staring at him pointedly. Sirius returned his stare with a look of utter confusion. "Pads. Has it occurred to you that she doesn't like wizards?"

Sirius froze. "No," he whined.

Remus hummed, "She mentioned something when we were discussing our relationship."

"When the hell were you discussing that?"

"After she came back from the Ministry, you were in Padfoot form in front of the fire."

"Oh." he frowned, "What did she say?"

"She asked whether the prejudices were the same here as in the muggle world. Now. it might have been idle curiosity, but…I didn't get the impression it was."

"Well fuck." he muttered before he shrugged, "It's not like she cant adopt. We ah…do we need to raise it?"

Probably." Remus muttered. "not today though. Let her get comfortable first. And maybe involve Saul? He's not traditional either."

"That conversations gong to be fucking nightmare." he muttered.

"Undoubtedly," Remus agreed.

"How are you doing?" Harry plopped down beside Hermione, startling her.

"Alright," she offered hesitantly.

"Try again."

"Harry, I'm fine. It's…strange but I'm…I'll be fine."

His eyes narrowed, "I don't believe you."

She sighed heavily, "how are you?" she redirected.

He shrugged awkwardly, "You know what the Dursleys were like."

"Yes," she agreed.

"You can talk to me you know." he prodded, nudging her with his shoulder. "You're the closest thing to a sister I'm ever going to get."

She smiled faintly, "I know. Now…can we do something? I have Andromeda tomorrow and I…Im…"

"Nervous?" he offered.

Hermione blew out a breath, "I don't know what to expect."

"No," he agreed, pulling a face. "Sirius says I'm going to have to learn some of it too."

"He mentioned you joining us for a couple of hours," she agreed.

"Yes, he said Andromeda's better at teaching than he is."

"Well…she at least can sit still for two minutes," Hermione grinned.

Harry laughed, "He can sit still Hermione."

"In dog form."

"Technically it's still him," Harry shrugged.

"DO you think he'd teach us?"

"Teach us…." Harry's face suddenly cleared of its confusion, "How to become animagi? God I hope so! Let's ask!"

"Ask what?" Remus' amused voice sounded from behind them.

"Whether Sirius would teach us how to become animagi."

Remus blanched, "Absolutely not! You're not even third years!"

"They started in third year," Harry pouted.

"And it was dangerous and ill-advised. I…Merlin…" he trailed off muttering a soft "Fucking polyjuice," before he pinned them with a look. "I will…discuss this with him. However, I want your word that you will not attempt this without us. I am not explaining to Minerva why you have paws or a tail or…gods…just don't do it alone!"

They grinned in unison, chorusing, "Yes Uncle Remus."

If anything he looked more worried.

Monday morning came all too quickly as far as Hermione was concerned and her nerves were out in full force, terrified she'd muck this up as she'd mucked up everything else. Would they still want her if she proved incompetent? They'd been forced to take her, forced to correct the holes in her education. What happened if she proved she couldn't do it? Another home? Fostering of some sort, presumably muggle, it didn't appear to be a thing in the wizarding world. The thought made her want to run, somewhere far far away from here and Andromeda's scrutiny.

"How are you settling in dear?" Andromeda eyed the girl over the rim of her cup. She looked better, less stressed although there was a wariness underneath the polite exterior she projected that broke Andromeda's heart.

"Well enough, Madam Tonks." she murmured.

"Andromeda or Andy, dear," she chided, "we're family."

Hermione hummed. "Of course, Andromeda."

She smothered a grimace, "You've quite clearly had etiquette training." she mused, not needing the girl's confirming nod. "Now, did you enjoy any of the instruments you learned?"

Hermione paused, her head tilting, "I didn't mind the piano."

"Didn't mind or enjoyed?" Andromeda pressed.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Then perhaps we should find out. My homework for the next few weeks is to play when the mood takes you. Play whatever you want. Black Hall as a piano does it not?"

"Yes," she agreed.

"Well then, let's try that. And if you do not enjoy it. Do not play." she peered pointedly at her waiting until slowly Hermione nodded. "Good. Then today, I propose we venture into Diagon Alley for those potions and we discuss grooming charms." Andromeda smirked at the slight faltering of Hermione's agreeable mask as she struggled to hide what she really felt about that. "Irritating but unfortunately useful," she continued pointedly. "THis afternoon we'll discuss the Wizengamot which should be far more interesting. And then we will need to discuss dancing, dear. For you and Mr Potter."

"I cannot dance."

"Of course you can dance," Andromeda countered, "You do not need to be the next prima ballerina, Hermione, but anyone can learn to be led around a dance floor in a waltz. Now go and fetch your cloak."

"Madam TOnks!" the cheery shop assistant greeted them as they walked in "and…"

"Ah, my cousin, Miss Hermione Black." Andromeda offered, "We are in desperate need of potions."

"Black curls," the witch agreed knowingly, turning to Hermione, "Don't worry lovey, we'll get you sorted. Merlin knows we've seen many a member of the Black family over the years. Curls as stubborn as they are. I wasn't aware of there being a new generation…."

Andromeda smirked, "A bit of a surprise for us all," she agreed, "Regulus and his secrets."

"Regulus! My word." she peered at Hermione consideringly, "Now you say it, she does have the look of him, same shape of face."

Andromeda hummed, "Indeed she does," she agreed fondly, running a hand over Hermione's unruly curls.

"Well then, let's get those potions. Will you be needing anything else?"

"Cosmetics I think," Andromeda mused, "A skincare regimen, lotions and that delightful little book on charms you have."

The witch hummed, flitting around the shop like a hummingbird as Hermione stood stock still, hardly daring to breathe as she contemplated everything ANdromeda had asked for. With a sympathetic smile, Andromeda squeezed her shoulder. "You do not need to use any of this if you do not wish to. However I would recommend the skincare, the hair potions and perhaps the body lotions. What you do need, is to know how in case you ever need or want to."

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't been aware she'd be holding. "I don't need to…."

"Turn yourself into someone you're not?" Andromeda finished when it became clear she didn't have the words, "Of course not. Hermione," she waited until she was looking at her properly, "All any of us want,is you to be yourself. I believe that having the tools in your arsenal is a good thing, if you never need nor want to use them, that is absolutely fine. But if you do not have the choice, then it is not truly a choice now is it?"

Silently she shook her head, following Andromeda to the counter.

"There you are then lovey, you come back or send an owl if you need a restock of anything" the witch commanded.

"Thank you," Hermione attempted a smile, accepting the bag.

"You're very welcome." the witch's smile was faintly nostalgic, "That father of yours was never without two spare bottles of our hair potion, although Merlin knows he had nothing on your Uncle. I once asked him if he was bathing in the stuff he ordered so often. Cheeky sod that he was he had the audacity to inform me that I needed to alter the potion to stand up to the attention of all the witches who liked to run their hands through his hair."

"Witches?'' Hermione checked, unable to help herself.

Andromeda smirked knowingly, "Your Uncle Sirius is entirely unprejudiced when it comes to matters of the heart."

"Or the body," the witch muttered, making Hermione blush.

With a smothered laugh, Andromeda continued, "But he has loved Remus Lupin long before he admitted it to himself."

"Oh," she murmured, "Were they together a long time?"

"Officially, I believe they did not admit anything until they were in seventh year. James Potter's rather startling growing up appeared to be the catalyst. But I will never forget the look on his face when he spoke about him, long, long before their seventh year; none of those witches ever stood a chance. Now, shall we head? We've just enough time to attempt to use some of these before Harry appears."

"Wow Hermione," Harry came to a dead stop, his eyes wide as he surveyed the witch in front of him. She flushed under his scrutiny.

"Is it that bad?"

"What? No! You just…Merlin," he stumbled over his words, taking in the shiny, frizz-free curls, the eyes that looked larger somehow and…there was something different about her teeth that he couldn't pinpoint. "You look…I mean…"

"I think what Prongslet is trying to say is you look lovely," Sirius laughed, "Been for a visit to Madam Mays I see."

"Yes," Hermione agreed.

"Wizengamot today?"

"Yes," Andromeda agreed briskly, "Perhaps you should stay, you might learn something."

"AH…no thank…" he wilted under her glare, "Of course Andy."

"Good, do sit down."

Sharing an amused look with Hermione, Harry sat down beside her whispering, "She's scarier than McGonagall," into her ear before quickly redirecting his attention to the witch in front of him who was warming up to what was clearly going to be a long and involved lecture before she noticed he wasn't paying attention.

Rach,

I admit to not quite believing I'm writing this. In case you think I've lost all sanity or for some reason, someone is impersonating me I will remind you that you gave me cat ears and a tail that Mother couldn't get rid of in a fit of accidental magic because you were tired of having a brother and wanted a pet. I remember missing the tail once the healers finally removed it.

Now that we've got that out of the way, I had some rather startling news recently. You know, of course, that we often experiment with unusual things at work. At one point we attempted to combat squibs using unusual techniques. It was overwhelmingly unsuccessful.

And yet….I imagine the next line will explain the heavy charms on this letter. I have a daughter. An actual living, breathing, thirteen-year-old daughter. She's…Gods Rach, she's bright and curious and…broken. She was adopted by muggles who managed the dubious honour of being both uninvolved and unreasonably demanding. She was seconds from her magic lashing out when she was removed. It was more than a little disturbing to witness. She is also, Merlin preserve us all, the next head of House Black. It's all rather complicated and I confess I have no idea what I'm doing. What the bloody hell do I know about teenage girls Rach? I'm relatively certain that you are the sum total of my experience with one of those confusing creatures. Well and Merry, but she was an adult before you were, and certainly long before I ever considered it. What the hell do I do? I don't want to make this worse. I'm terrified of making this worse.

I await your howler with interest.

Your unfortunate brother, not pet,

Saul.

He jumped out of his skin when a crack tore through the silence. "Howler?" came the dangerous voice of his older sister, "You thought all you'd get from that letter was a Howler?" he yelped when she sent a stinging jinx at him. "Start explaining little brother. Now."

He gulped slightly at the feral look on her face and began blurting out the entire story in the way only the cowed youngest brother of a bossy older sister could.

She was gaping at him by the time he was finished, "You had no idea?"

"None!"

"My gods. That poor girl."

"Yes well…we're going to try and fix it," he muttered.

"Are you? Your daughter appears to be living with her uncle, little brother!"

He bristled at the judgement in her tone. "Her uncle, his partner and her best friend! I thought it was best. Sirius Black doesn't work. Remus appears to actually be making some progress with her. But I intend to be involved, Rach! Heavily involved. I just thought she'd have more stability with her patriarch."

She shook her head, "And I think that's an excuse but what's done is done, merlin knows moving the witch again if she's settled is a bad idea. When can we meet her?"

"Oh i…she said I could mention her but we…she hadn't quite agreed to meeting you."

His sister scowled. "I'll be owling to introduce myself then." she muttered, "What is her name?"

"OH, ah Hermione. Hermione Aquila Black."

"Black not Croaker?"

"THe contract her grandfather demanded gave the Blacks primacy."

"Of course it did, " she muttered, "Orion Black was a crafty opportunistic sod."

"You knew him?"

"Not well. His wife was a holy terror."

"So i believe," he agreed.

"Well…." she blew out a breath. "I'm only going to say this once. You had better actually be involved, Saul Jonas Croaker. You cannot get immersed in a project and forget the witch, she deserves better than that."

"I know that!"

"Make sure you do," she nodded, "And just because she's at school, it doesn't mean you shouldn't still be in touch. In light of the situation, you need to visit on Hogsmeade weekends."

"Her Uncle's partner is teaching," he muttered, "I was going to see if I could visit.

"She looked surprised; he wasn't sure if he should feel offended. "Good. Now I left the hospital in a rush. I imagine I should return. Warn her to expect my owl."

"Sure," he muttered, before calling, "Rach?" he waited until she turned to look at him, "Don't push her to reply until she's ready."

She scoffed but he thought he caught a slightly approving look in her eyes.

"Little bird?" Sirius hedged, watching his niece with worry. Her eyes shot up to look at him, fear written all over her face so he tried again, "Who's your owl from, Birdie?"

"My Aunt Rachel apparently."

"Who?" he checked.

Silently she handed over the letter,

Hermione,

I hope you'll forgive my informality, I've never been one to stand on ceremony, especially not with family. And you, Hermione, are family. Not to be alarmed darling, I'm your Aunt Rachel, your father's sister. I understand he was also writing to your Uncle Elijah, forgive him if he doesn't actually respond, the wizard gets lost on his treks across the globe hunting this that and the next thing in order to study it. I'm not convinced he remembers he's human sometimes.

I digress. I understand things have been somewhat challenging and you are in the process of attempting to adjust to your new normal. And while I would dearly love to meet you, I understand from my rather infuriating brother that you are perhaps not quite ready for that. So, instead, I am asking permission to owl in the hopes of us getting to know one another. And if you'd like your cousin's details, darling just ask, our Carolines your age and I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear from you, especially as she was rather disappointed that her mother wouldn't allow her to go to Hogwarts.

Aunt Rachel.

"Ah. Do you want my advice or do you want left to think about it?"

At the door, Remus's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I...I ah…what do you think I should do?"

"Well," Sirius mused, "It wouldn't hurt to write back. Maybe see what the witch is like? Minerva might know her, she's ages with your father. Once you've got a handle on her you can decide about the cousins."

"I…I can do that," Hermione agreed hesitantly. Accepting her letter back.

"For what it's worth, she seems nice enough."

Hermione hummed, not meeting his eyes as she hesitantly pulled a piece of parchment from the table and began to write.

"What have you done with Harry, Little witch?" Remus queried as he walked into the sitting room two days later, finding her alone, curled into the smallest space possible, Crookshanks purring in the crook of her knees, a book resting on the arm of the sofa.

"Hmmm, flying," she murmured distractedly.

"And you're…" he prompted.

The look she gave him as she tore herself away from the book indicated that she questioned his intelligence, "Reading." she replied slowly, the missing "obviously" hung unsaid in the air.

"Yes, I gathered that," he agreed with an amused huff, "what are you reading?"

"Oh, another one Andromeda recommended," she admitted, wrinkling her nose. "I don't like it but she says i need to know if I have a hope of working around it." She held the book up, showing the title. 'A witches guide to proper manners, deportment and behavioural expectations'.

"Merlin wept," Remus muttered with a look of distaste. "How do you fancy a museum instead? There's one in Edinburgh I've been wanting to see and Merlin knows Sirius will never come with me."

"What's special about the one in Edinburgh?"

He shrugged, "I've no idea, I've just never been. I hear they have fishponds inside."

"Inside?" she frowned.

"Inside." he agreed, holding his breath as he waited for her to make up her mind.

"Ok," she finally agreed.

"Good, do you want to ask Harry if he's coming? I have no idea where Sirius is, actually."

"He was muttering something about Andromeda being evil and making him prepare in his office." Hermione murmured, making Remus snort.

"AH. Yes. Andy wants him word perfect before Narcissa makes her move. We expect she'll do it soon."

Hermione hummed, "I…I still don't think I understand what it all means." she admitted.

"You don't have to, not yet. All you really need to know is that sometimes Houses have primacy, the older they are, the more they've established themselves. If you're linked to that house, you're bound by that primacy. Narcissa's maiden house was the House of Black, it would have been acknowledged in her marriage contract that that primacy had to be observed if the Head of House decreed it. It effects Wizengamot voting, behavioural expectations etcetera. It would have been expected that Draco, for all he is a Malfoy, would learn the traditions of House Black."

"How long does it go on for though?"

"In what way?" he frowned.

"Well…how far back does it go? Say Draco marries…gods I don't know. Parkinson. Malfoy marries Parkinson. They have a child. WIll that child also be bound by House Black's primacy?"

"To a lesser degree than Draco," Remus replied slowly. "They could request asylum from House Black and be bound by their rules. Their ties would mean that it wouldn't be out of the question for them to work together, however, if Draco Malfoy was to marry Miss Parkinson, the House of Malfoy holds primacy there and that could influence her head of house,but because it is not a daughter of a house with a higher standing marrying the son of one with a lower one, the rules are different. If Miss Parkinson married…Merlin…a…Goyle. Her head of House holds primacy there."

"Why is it so complicated?" she whined.

"Because what on earth would all the purebloods do with their time if not come up with convoluted arbitrary systems?" he quipped, drawing a reluctant smile. "Go on then, ask Harry and acquire a cloak."

He gave a huff of laughter as she darted from the room looking more childlike than he'd seen her. Perhaps, perhaps they'd all make it through this after all.