If Julius were to summarize the experience of hiding an escaped wanted criminal in the house, a criminal that had been the reason for roughly eighty percent of Julius' childhood insecurities, in one word, he would choose 'awkward'.
If he were tasked to summarize with two; 'very awkward'.
Julius knew he'd promised Harry that he and his mom would protect Sirius until it was safe, but that was before he had spent actual time with the man in the house. Julius' mother assures him that she wasn't mad at him (anymore), but he's less than convinced when the woman keeps hurling glass marbles at Sirius' head when he 'accidentally' steps on toes.
For Kreacher's sanity, Julius replaces the near invisible centerpiece with a bowl of colorful hacky sacks Aunt Anjali had gotten them years ago from one of her trips abroad. They're much easier to see, adding a nice pop of color to the House of Black's general decor of green, ebony, and brown. It's also much funnier to watch his mom pelt them at his uncle.
For the most part Sirius was cordial, keeping to himself in his old room that had long been refurbished into a guest quarters or silently milling about the house in a melancholy daze. More than once Julius had caught the man in the sitting room, staring at the magically swaying wallpaper that depicted the family tree.
His fingers trace where Granny Walburga had long ago blasted his visage away, leaving only a scorch mark in its place.
Julius remembers doing the same when he was younger, looking up at the wall for hours and reading the name's of his ancestors. He would focus on the icon of his father, tracing the banner of 'Regulus' written in neat cursive, before following the branch to his own 'Julius'. Sometimes his mother would join him, pulling him into her lap as she did the same.
"You look just like him." Sirius says in a rare moment of conversation when he catches hid nephew staring. "So like him it's uncanny."
Instead of jolting away like a scared animal Julius coughs into his fist before cautiously stepping into the room. "That's what mother tells me. I was never really sure if it was true or if she was just saying it to comfort me."
There weren't many pictures of his father in the house, he'd always assumed it was his grandmother who'd gotten rid of them after his death, having a record disposing depictions of her children after they'd left her willingly or not. What he had was a black and white photo of Regulus' old quidditch team, and a dusty proper looking painting, standing with Julius' grandparents. It's not as if his presence was banished from the house it was just noticeably faint.
Next to him Sirius shakes his head. "No she's telling the truth. I'd run away before I could see him at your age, by then we were less than strangers at school. Had we not been…" Sirius trails off, staring where Regulus was printed on the wall solemnly.
Julius tries to wrack his brain for anything to say back, lift the veil of tension between them and maybe even become closer for it. But he thinks for the same reason Sirius couldn't finish his words, Julius doesn't say his.
"Thank you." Is all he manages to impart before walking out, leaving his uncle to ponder.
Sometimes his mother and Sirius would get into spats. Arguments that led to Julius seeing the most harried he'd ever seen his mother become, something about Sirius Black bringing out a more petulant side of her.
"It's not like I'm asking to go to Olivander's!" Julius raises his head from his book as Sirius walks into the living room after his mother. "Just give me a different one."
"You should be so lucky that I let you have one at all!" Galatea returns, arms crossed and face disdainful as Sirius held out Granny Walburga's wand to her.
"The thing hates me! Just like that woman did. It would sooner blow me to smithereens than let me do anything useful. I know you gave me this one on purpose."
Galatea rolls her eyes but doesn't dispute the accusation. Gingerly she picks the carved mahogany wood from Sirius' open hand, walking over to the ornately carved antique curio that displayed the wands of Black's past.
"Well you didn't want your father's." Galatea chided as she looked through the different options.
Sirius tries to squeeze in next to her, pointing his fingers to each wand but withdrawing when his hand receives a sharp slap.
He clicks his tongue, rubbing his stinging knuckles and craning his neck to look over the woman's shoulder instead.
"Uncle Alphard's, is his in there?"
"Alphard's was burned after he passed, he wasn't allowed in here after he left his inheritance to you."
"Old hag." Sirius cursed his mother's memory grumpily.
"Your Uncle Cygnus'." Galatea holds out a pale birch wand, slim and marked with swirling patterns of wood stain.
Sirius wrinkles his nose. "No, he hated me too."
"Shocking." Galatea dryly remarks. "Here. Someone who couldn't possibly hate you, your great grandfather, Sirius Black the second."
She holds aloft a polished maple, squarely carved, but the edges worn down from use. Along each side intricate runes were carved along into the dark brown wood, fading as they got closer to the tip.
"I can't use that, it's practically fossilized."
Galatea throws her hands up in the air in frustration. "I'd rather give you a toothpick and call it a day. Would you make up your mind?"
"How about Reg's? Where's his wand?" Sirius tries one last time, pushing his luck to the utmost.
Julius sees his mother's face subtly change, the agitation flattening out to be something more standoffish and stoic. "No. It's not there." She answers curtly, dropping the maple wand in the man's hands.
She locks the curio cabinet behind her with a quick wave of her wand, side stepping a confused Sirius and walking out of the room. Sirius turns to Julius, befuddlement clear on his face. There's a clear question on his mind, mouth opening but twisting shit before he could ask.
"She doesn't like to talk about it." Julius answers anyway, pretending to be disinterested by looking back to his book.
"You've never asked?"
"She told me he passed away from Dragon Pox. They had to burn all of his belongings."
"Do you believe that?" Sirius presses, tone attempting to be gentle but it makes Julius tense.
He closes his book hard enough for the pages to clap together. He resists the urge to run away again, facing his uncle and not liking the bitter emotion in his chest when the man looks towards him, but not at him.
"No." He admits in a quiet guilty voice. It had been a lie to placate a young child, one that attempted to alleviate the sins of a father that Julius couldn't recall half a memory of. He knew that full well.
"But is it worse than my father being a Death Eater? Worse yet he was a Death Eater who didn't stick to his own code. Running away and getting killed by You-Know-Who for it?" Julius challenges, heart beating in his chest like a bruised drum. Sirius holds his gaze, expression dower and remorseful.
"Maybe he died of Dragon Pox, maybe he didn't. Does it matter? He's dead. Nothing in the world can change it."
Julius feels a cold numbness shiver down his spine as he says the words aloud. It's nothing new that hadn't occurred in his mind before, but now that they had left his mouth it felt like he had made a mistake he couldn't take back.
Sirius lowers his gaze to the wand in his hand, turning it over in his fingers. Julius takes the moment to leave, fleeing to his room and locking the door shut behind him.
There were some reprieves, days or weeks they could go without sequestering away in their respective rooms to escape. Times they could suck it up and put up the front of normalcy.
They usually coincided with the arrival of guests, Aunt Anjali for a quick lunch or Draco staying for the weekend, forcing Sirius to convert to his canine form. If he could help it the ex-prisoner would stay curled up on the couch, snoozing away peacefully until the offending party took their leave.
The worst enemy to his peace was Draco. Julius' cousin sending hopeful looks his way, beckoning him over with the promise of sneaked table scraps.
"Draco, you're going to spoil his appetite." Galatea lightly scolds her nephew to keep up the farce. In the corner of the dining room sits a bowl of untouched decoy kibble, Sirius refusing to have anything to do with it.
"Sorry, Aunt Gala." Draco quickly straightens his posture, attempting to look remorseful even as the ham in his fingers is snatched away by careful teeth.
After dinner Sirius allows Draco to pet his head in the living room, the younger boy preening at his success.
"You're lucky Aunt Gala lets you have a dog." Draco informs Julius as he scratches behind 'Snake's' ear. "Mother's allergic and Father doesn't think I have the 'responsibility' to keep anything." Julius chuckles at Draco's sulking, giving him a consoling pat on his head.
"What about Sable?" Julius recalls the Malfoy family's current messenger bird, a sleek barn owl with eyes as black as coal.
"Owls don't coouunt. Even if they did, she's more mother's than anyone else's.
"You can always try and show him you're responsible."
Draco scoffs. "Everyone knows that's just how parents say 'no' without saying 'they just don't want to'. Goyle has a cockatiel. Do you think him more responsible than me?"
Julius jokingly sucks in air through his teeth. "I don't know, Drakes. A cockatiel is a lot of work…"
Draco shoves him away scowling with disgust before lying his head sideways on the couch beside Sirius'.
"Snake, come home with me. I'll give you a cooler name and ham everyday."
In response Sirius just licks the boy's nose. Draco's face wrinkles, back of his hand coming up to wipe away the slobber left behind.
"Eugh!"
Julius laughs again at his cousin's disgusted hacking. It feels like the first genuine one he's had all summer.
Once, and only once, did Julius ever walk past Sirius' room in the middle of the night.
When a bout of insomnia pulls him from his bed, parched mouth tempting him down the hall to the bathroom for a glass of water, he walks past his uncle's door and pauses when he hears the desperate scratching of dog nails against wood. High pitched whining and cut off yips make Julius' gut twist with guilt. Maybe Sirius wasn't the best house guest in the world, but that didn't mean he deserved to suffer alone.
Julius had never felt more like a child than when he walks to his mother's door and knocks as softly as possible. He takes a deep breath, making a deal with himself just like he used to when he was five and still got scared of monsters under his bed. If she didn't answer it wasn't scary. If it wasn't worth his overprotective worrywart of a mother to come out and address it then he'd just go back to bed.
He doesn't know whether to feel relief or more guilt when, like all the times before without fail, Galatea opens her door, sleeping robe wrapped tightly around her shoulders and looking concerned. She doesn't crouch down to be at his height like she used to, there was no need. He was nearly as tall as her standing now, just a couple centimeters off. Her cool hand cups his cheek before checking his temperature.
"What's wrong, darling?" She asks, a rasp in her voice from suddenly being awoken.
Julius purses his lips, feeling foolish but knows if he were to leave now this would all have been for naught. "It's Sirius. I think he's having a nightmare."
He waits for the woman's face to fall, dropping the concern to replace it with annoyance. First Julius had brought a man on the run into the house, nary a word of consultation before making her an accomplice in something that could get all three of them sent to Azkaban. Now he wakes her in the middle of the night to soothe the night terrors of said man.
Instead of shutting the door in Julius' face his mother breathes an indulgent sigh, the faintest of consolatory smiled pulling at the corners of her lips. With one last pat to his cheek she steps around him and makes way to where Sirius' nail's still scratched at the floor. Julius meekly following behind her.
"Sirius." Galatea knocks on the door but doesn't receive an answer past yips and soft growling.
With one hand she casts a charm to unlock the door, the other turning the knob slowly to minimize the sound of clicking metal.
"Sirius." She tries again and this time the noises still.
As the door creaks open Julius peaks around his mother and his stomach drops at the sight of a deathly still black dog. Curled tightly into himself, making him look as small as possible. He's tucked in the corner of the bed and nightstand. Not so much as a carpet underneath him and sure enough shallow scratches on the floorboards following the arc of his hind legs.
"Mom?" Julius cautiously calls for the woman as she steps into the room. With a silent look she directs him to stay behind her.
Her wand trails from the tips of her fingers to her elbow on her right. The spell's effect is nearly invisible in the dark save for stray beams of moonlight reflecting off a glassy cast around her arm.
Precautions put in place she kneels before the black dog and reaches out to try and shake him from his trance.
Julius jumps when with barely a warning Sirius snaps his jaws biting down on Galatea's wrist. His mother grunts, body tensing from surprise but otherwise staying silent.
"Mom!" Julius tries to run forward but the woman's free hand is behind her, willing him to wait and not rush in lest he scare the animal more.
The hound growls, lips flexing around where his teeth refuse to sink into delicate flesh and bone.
"Sirius Black." Galatea's voice comes out gentle and patient despite the situation. "You're in Grimmauld Place. In your room. In London. You are free. You are safe."
The dog's jaw doesn't loosen, the growling doesn't stop.
"Sirius." Galatea repeats after a deep breath. "You're in Grimmauld Place. In your room. In London. You are free. You are safe."
Julius stands in the doorway, watching his mother repeat the words however many times it took before Sirius let go of her arm, aggression melting from his face, smoothing out as he came back to his senses.
It feels like Julius had his breath caught in his throat for eternity, only letting it go when Sirius starts to apologetically lap at the woman's wrist.
Galatea tiredly breathes a sigh of relief, safely scratching behind the hound's ear with her unprotected hand as she draws the other away into the sleeve of her robe.
"You can go to sleep now, Julius." She dismisses, shifting so that her back was against the bed and Sirius' head rested in her lap.
"But…" Julius protests, worry gnawing at his stomach.
His mother sighs again, patting the space next to her with her left hand as an invitation.
Julius cautiously creeps forward, eyeing the shifting dog as he sits down. Big dark eyes avoid his gaze, looking only up in a silent apology, every so often a paw brushing against Galatea's calf. Julius brings his knees up to his chest as he settles onto the floor, resting his chin as they all huddled together in the dark.
The next morning Julius wakes to the sun shining in his face, quickly made aware of his stiff neck and shoulders that make him groan as he stretches. It's only when he shivers from the sudden cold that he realizes a blanket had been draped over his back. Sirius is still in his animagus form, limbs spread and back of his neck laying against Julius' legs.
When he shifts Sirius wakes with him, looking around and recognizing the same problem he has.
"Mother?" Julius stands quickly calling for the missing woman in the room, stumbling over the bed when his sleeping limbs fail him.
"Gala!" Sirius swiftly morphs into a human, dressed loosely in old pajamas. The man falters with a groan, hands clutching his back as he tries to stand too quickly.
"By Merlin's name, to think I'm the oldest out of the three of us." Galatea tuts, appearing in the doorway.
She's dressed in a fresh set of clothes, looking as pristine and neatly kept as usual. Julius would've been put at ease if his mother wasn't wearing white gloves on her hands and a long sleeve that met them at the cuff, looking ready to step out of the house during fall instead of the middle of summer.
"Gala." Sirius manages to get up first. His hands are quick to lurch for her right elbow but Galatea is quicker to dodge out of the way. Leaning back and twisting to avoid him, Sirius looks at her in disgruntled disbelief.
"I would ask if you've forgotten your manners, but I know you never had them to begin with."
"Show me your arm." He orders, making another lunge. Again Galatea leans away, arm extended out of reach and looking like she means to give Sirius the scolding of a lifetime.
"Gala, I'm serious."
"And I'm Gala."
"You-mmm!" Sirius pursed his lips, frustration clearly battling his concern as he lets out a heated breath. When he regains composure he extends his hand to her . "Please. Show me your arm."
Despite the pins and needles still in his feet Julius walks up to his mother and uncle, both locked in a tense staring contest.
Looking around and finding herself surrounded Galatea rolls her eyes in exasperation, pulling off her glove and tugging up her sleeve. She holds up a pale unblemished arm to their faces, eyebrow raised as she dares them to call her out.
"This old house gets drafty. My apologies for trying to keep warm." Galatea blithely excuses. As she goes to readjust her sleeve it's Julius who reaches out and lightly squeezes his mother's wrist.
She draws a quick breath and an unmistakable grimace flashes across her face, shoulder's jumping up as she tenses in pain. Julius receives a sour look, Galatea clicking her tongue at being caught.
"Your lack of manners is infecting my son, Sirius." She laments, giving up. The glamor spell falls away like water rippling leaving behind a patchy mesh of bruised purples and reds along the top and bottom of her forearm.
"Can you just-Merlin…" Sirius curses. He abandons his retort easily, hand gingerly taking Galatea's wrist and elbow as she allows him to turn it over and assess the damage. "It looks awful." He quietly points out.
"My own fault. I should've cast a stronger spell."
Sirius shakes his head, unable to take his eyes away from the distinct row of bruising that trailed like teeth marks. "No. You shouldn't have had to cast a spell at all."
"Would you rather I let you scratch the floorboards to splinters-"
"Would you Stop doing that!" Sirius yells, making a startled Julius jump. He looks at his mother who sets her jaw and patiently waits for the man to continue.
"You should've just left me to it! I would've been fine alone. I've handled a nightmare before. I'm not some child you have to coddle."
"You're not a child." Galatea agrees. "You're someone who has gone through things most have hardly survived. Nightmares are one thing, Sirius. You were experiencing a traumatic memory."
Sirius lets go of Galatea's arm, stepping back as a defensive glare creeps onto his face. "Does it matter what I was 'experiencing'? You shouldn't have come into my room. End of story."
Galatea doesn't waver in the face of his anger, standing tall and squaring her shoulders.
"Maybe I shouldn't have." She concedes again. "It wasn't my place. Rest assured I won't barge in next time. I'm not so often a Good Samaritan."
"But tell me, Sirius, what if it had been Kreacher who stumbled upon you, or Julius, or Fates willing someday in the future, your godson."
If Sirius had been angry before he looked furious now. "How dare you-"
"Terrors like that are uncontrollable, they come about unbidden and if you don't address them properly it can lead to future incidents down the road-"
"I don't need you deciding what is best for me! And Harry certainly doesn't need your input either. Soon enough I'll be gone and you won't be forced to 'indulge' my presence any longer!"
Julius' mother scowls, readjusting her sleeve and placing it out of sight by her side.
"Then I will no longer speak on the subject. As long as you refuse to see reason I can't help you."
Galatea turns on her heel walking down the hallway swiftly, pulling on her glove as she descended the stairs.
Julius stands beside his uncle, awkward and off kilter. Beside him Sirius appears sullen, arms crossed over his waist defensively, looking worn down and older for it. They stay in a stilted silence for minutes, hearing the footsteps of Galatea's feet growing faint and eventually the front door closing behind her.
"I was the one who asked her to help." Julius confesses, feeling the need to come clean, take on some of his uncle's anger in hopes his mother wouldn't have to take on the world by herself like she insisted.
After a silent moment Sirius groans, running both his hands over his face. "I figured as much. Godrick, she just makes me so…"
The man waves his hands waving in the general direction where the woman had disappeared.
"It's not just her." He admits apologetically, seeing whatever face Julius was looking at him with. "It's this place. I can't help but feel like a child again. Always in trouble, always in the wrong. Just by being me.
"I'm stuck after running for so long. And I was close, so close to being free. If it all had worked out I could be walking outside a free man, with Remus, with Harry."
Julius listens quietly, unsure whether it was better to stay or go. On one hand Sirius looked like he wanted nothing more than to curl back into his bed, or rather the floor, and wallow in his grief. On the other, Julius' body was stiff and sore and he was tired of walking away only to be met face to face with the problem all over again.
"My mother can sometimes be…a lot. Overbearing, protective-"
"A control freak, a know-it-all- Sorry." Sirius counts off, but has the decency to look sheepish at Julius' frown. He wasn't necessarily wrong but the boy was trying to make a point.
"Even so I know it comes from a place of love. I don't really know the whole story, but Uncle Lucius once told me there was a lot she had to give up when she married into the family. She never took it out on me. Blamed me, hit or yelled. Never let it show if she was bitter about it.
"Grandma Walburga wasn't the best either. Before she passed she was really critical of my mom for how she chose to raise me. I was too young to get it at the time, but I know it's because of her that I turned out like me and not like…well we're working on Draco."
Julius tugs at the hair at the nape of his neck nervously, looking up to see his uncle's eyes boring into him. Not quite a dawning understanding on his face but not quite a rejection of his words either.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that if I were to leave today, she wouldn't be the kind to remove me from the sitting room."
Sirius holds his gaze, the words sinking between them, before looking down in a long exhale. His calloused hand comes up to squeeze Julius' shoulder.
"Yeah." He concedes, voice sounding far away as he ponders his own thoughts. "She's not."
When Galatea returns she lets her son squeeze her forearm as hard as he needed to prove that she had gotten it healed at St Mungos.
"I told them I got pinned in a car door." His mother recounts to him. "You should've seen their faces. They would've been less concerned if I'd just told them the truth."
The two of them are eating a dinner prepared by Kreacher, the house elf sitting closer to Galatea than his usual spot near the end of the table, mumbling about how the turkey wasn't to his satisfaction even though it was delicious as always. Julius thinks it's because the old elf was showing his concern in his own Kreacher way and his mother was content to indulge him.
In the middle of Galatea assuring Kreacher it was perfectly fine, a clearing throat disrupts their meal. In the doorway Sirius stands, hands looking unsure of what to do and landing on his hips in an awkward pose.
"It's come to my attention," He starts, glancing towards Julius before flicking back to the matriarch of the house. "That I may have been acting less than…gracious."
Galatea glances around the room to Julius, thoughts coming to a mysterious conclusion before she shifts in her seat, turning her front to face the man and letting a silence grow just enough to be uncomfortable before waving her hand in a 'go on' motion.
Sirius pulls a face that makes him look like he was suffering acid reflux, but takes a deep breath before continuing. "You and your son have done more for me than I could ever repay by taking me in. I know what you risk having me here and the way I've been showing my gratitude is, well, terrible. Without your guy's help I honestly don't know where I'd be. Maybe Italy, Cuba, Brazil could've been nice."
Julius coughs into his fist, tempted to reach for a hacky sack but resists. Sirius shakes his head to get back on track.
"As for last night, first and foremost, I'm sorry that I bit you."
Galatea opens her mouth to refute but Sirius holds up his hand to stop her.
"Yes yes it was a trauma whatever, I still feel bad so accept the damn apology."
Galatea closes her mouth.
"I don't like that you used Harry as an argument against me. I'm well aware of what faults I have as a caretaker without someone else pointing them out to me."
Sirius has the acid reflux grimace on his face again, his shoulders slumping and hands dropping from his hips to fidget in front of him instead.
"But you're right." He sighs. "Harry is the self sacrificing type to get his hand bitten off from rushing in without thinking. He's a lot like James in that way."
Sirius raises his head, leveling Galatea with a somber look. "If it had been him, or Julius, or you, or probably even Kreacher, I'd never forgive myself."
Like he'd been deprived of it Sirius takes a big breath, trying to dismiss the awkward tension in the air with a general wave around the room.
"So if you have some magic mumbo jumbo that helps me get over twelve years of Wizard Prison, I'll take it."
Julius looks between his uncle and mother, waiting with bated breath for something to give.
An eternity passes before Galatea sighs deep and weary. Her hand goes to a slim golden watch on her left wrist, unlatching it and sliding the piece of jewelry over to Kreacher.
The house elf lets out a low croaking chuckle, hand scooping it into one of his worn pockets.
"I liked that watch." Galatea gripes.
"And Kreacher will like it more for it." Kreacher rubs in her face.
Julius looks to Sirius looks to Julius they both look to the mistress and house elf.
"You bet on me apologizing?!" Sirius yelps.
"Oh please." Galatea waves away the accusation. "Despite what you may think, I know that you're an adult fully capable of an adequate apology. Kreacher and I wagered whether you'd include him in there."
"Kreacher always bets on Kreacher." Kreacher nods with satisfaction, patting his pocket.
Galatea shakes her head, hiding a fond smile from the elf's view before waving to a confounded Sirius.
"Grab your dinner and sit down." She directs. "You'll catch flies with your jaw like that."
"I…" Sirius gapes, looking as lost as Julius felt. They exchange looks over the table again, Sirius checking over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen. He pokes his head back into the dining room like they would have disappeared as soon as he looked away. "I- Wait does Kreacher not serve us anymore?"
"Kreacher is a valuable member of this household." Galatea resolutely explains. "I pay him a wage for his work and give him days off. He's free to go wherever he pleases."
Kreacher smirks smugly, sitting higher in his seat. From the corner of his eyes he looks at Sirius' cautiously tip toeing form.
"Kreacher owes his life to the Noble House of Black. Wouldn't dare depart from such kind employers."
Sirius sits down at the table beside Julius, the plate in front of him piled high with turkey and less vegetables than a man his age should have, but Julius wasn't going to rat him out.
It's still awkward, slow going like molasses on a cold surface. But surely if they kept at it, the four of them at dinner together wouldn't be the oddest sight in the world.
At the tail end of the summer Draco invites Julius to the Quidditch World Cup with him and Uncle Lucius. His mother urges him to go. Get out of the house and enjoy some male bonding time with his cousin and Uncle.
"Yeah right." Sirius scoffs from the couch. "Like your brother knows the first thing about Quidditch."
"He knows more than Minister Fudge." Galatea half heartedly defends but doesn't deny. "Bureaucratically that's all that matters."
Sirius pulls a disgusted face, grumbling something about politics and the integrity of sports before turning back to the TV show they were watching. Julius feels put at ease enough by their friendly banter to accept Draco's invitation without worry of returning to a burnt down house.
Of course that was a hundred flights of stairs ago, where Julius wasn't surrounded by an eardrum bursting cheering crowd, steadfastly trying to ignore Harry Potter who sat in the Minister's box with him, Hermione, and the Weasley's.
"Of course we have to share with Potter and his groupies." Draco hisses next to him, a sour look pinching his features.
Julius nods his head in agreement, but he suspects for different reasons. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a glancing Harry every so often turn his way, burning questions about a certain man in hiding obvious on his face. When he's sure no one's looking, Julius gives him a silent warning look, two of his fingers pointing to his own eyes and then to the field below. Hopefully message more than clear.
"Look! There's Krum!" Draco grabs Julius' shoulder and shaking him vigorously with one hand and the other pointing at a speeding figure on the field, but there was really no need because Julius' eyes were glued to the Bulgarian Seeker since he had made his entrance.
Julius begins to see a pattern as he watches Viktor Krum soar through the air like he was riding the wind itself instead of a broom. He had a type and that type was quidditch players. It was as unfortunate as it was true.
Julius resolutely claims that the crush he had on Oliver Wood was dead and buried. Somewhere deep deep underground where no one would ever stumble upon it.
Last year had been filled with more pressing matters. Julius didn't have the capacity to worry about boys and whether they noticed how good of a keeper he was from across the field. It was easier to hide now that the Gryffindor Seeker had graduated and joined his one true love, professional Quidditch.
Julius hadn't been bitter about it, deep down he knew that there was no way a relationship of any kind would form between them, except maybe one sided contempt for being an enemy on the opposing team. If anything he was relieved because now Marigold and Cassius wouldn't tease him anymore about any sidelong glances or broken bleeding hearts.
It was a nice change of pace. A crush on a foreign Quidditch star like Viktor Krum was inherently unattainable. Much more manageable than hopeless pining.
When the match ends with Ireland's victory, Julius groans in time with his cousin.
"That dive alone should've won the game." Draco clicks his tongue in disappointment.
Julius feels the thrum of excitement still in his veins, trying hard not to draw attention to his warm expression as he shook thoughts of Viktor Krum's bleeding nose paired with his intense look of determination that were offensive to God from his head.
"Yeah. You'd think so, Mr Seeker." He managed to reply.
"It's not as easy as everyone thinks it is!" Draco retorts.
"Uh huh."
"The hand-eye coordination alone! There's a reason the ball we have to worry about is worth the most points- are you listening, Julius!"
As Julius nods along to Draco's rant he sees the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry file out, the dark haired boy glancing back one last time before he's herded out by Arthur.
Soon Draco and Julius are the only students left in the viewing box, Uncle Lucius keeping them back by being engrossed in an avid discussion with his ministry cohorts.
"Can't you apparate us back home?" Draco grumbles, slouched sunken posture in his stadium seat mirroring Julius' as the boredom starts to set in. Behind them a chorus of laughs rise from the huddled group of adult men.
"Maybe myself." Julius answers, watching the scrambling figures below starting to clear up the field. "I'm not so good at apparating with other people yet."
His cousin groans. "What good are you?"
A few more minutes of bouncing knees and listless staring Julius turns around in his seat in hopes his staring would speed the process along.
"What if we just asked?" Julius proposed.
"Father won't like us interrupting."
"We'll be skeletons by the time he's done over there."
Draco turns as well, eyes tracking from his father, to the clock telling them it's been forty minutes since the game ended, to Julius.
"You ask him." Draco elbows the older boy.
"He's your dad." Julius elbows back.
"It's your idea."
Julius mimes a hit against his cousin's blond head as he stands. Draco gives him a hand motion in return that would've Aunt Narcissa steaming.
With a put upon sigh, Julius approaches their chaperone daring to tap the man on the elbow.
"Uncle, Draco and I are going to return to the pavilion." He tries to quietly inform and make a quick getaway.
For a moment he thinks he'd get away with it, Lucius barely giving him a nod before turning back to his conversation.
"Why Malfoy, who's this strapping young lad?" A tall and barrel chested man throws the verbal lasso around Julius and drags him in. If he wasn't mistaken he sees a grimace flash across his uncle's face before it's replaced by a strained smile.
"Nott, I'm sure you remember my nephew, Julius." Lucius places his hand on the student's shoulder, introducing him to the various nods of recognition,
"Your sister's boy!" Laughs an older man with a salt and pepper beard matching his slicked back hair. "Isn't that a blast from the past."
"What year are you in, my boy?"
"Entering my seventh." Julius obediently responds.
"What are your plans after Hogwarts?"
"Continue my studies abroad. Possibly America. Maybe France."
His answer causes a chortle. "What do they have out there that we don't here?" Someone jeers.
"It's what my mother did when she graduated. Just following in her steps."
"Galatea Malfoy." Another voice reminisced. "A fine woman. No doubt a finer wife."
"Had she still a husband." Julius hears the muttered words of a faceless figure in the crowd. "She married into the Blacks, didn't she?"
A low communal hum pauses the onslaught of the crowd, pairs of intuitive staring eyes all trained on him.
Julius suddenly remembers why he was so grateful that his mother hated Pure Blooded Wizarding with a burning passion. Because of it he had been saved from this kind of interaction all his life.
Julius shifts away from his uncle's hand, trying to backtrack out of this conversation before he was subjected to anymore. "A pleasure to meet you all again." He forces a polite smile on his face before attempting to break free.
"Forgive us young man." Nott foils him again, a hand clapping on Julius' bicep. "Your mother helped the lot of us back in the day. Really we owe your family a great debt. Us old codgers do nothing but get too caught up talking about the past."
"It's alright, sir. You're not the first. I'm sure you won't be the last."
Nott smiles, giving Julius a couple hearty wind-knocking pats on the back before looking up to Lucius with a grin. "Malfoy, invite your nephew with us tonight."
"What." Julius feels his politeness slip. An uneasy pounding in his chest as the hand on his back starts to feel heavy and unyielding.
"Excuse me?" His uncle looked to be in the same precariously rocking boat.
"He's of age now, correct? Old enough to be included in the fun. Bring him along, show him what's worth boasting about."
Julius glances at his uncle, for once the man looking out of his depth with an expression on his face that made one thing clear. If Julius's mother heard about this she'd skin her brother alive.
"Oh there's no need to do that…I'm actually feeling rather uh- nauseous." Julius scrambles to find an excuse.
"For the minister's box, it is terribly uncomfortable." Lucius nods, quick to back him up. "Vertigo must be getting to you."
"Yes. Vertigo. I should go sleep it off." Julius coughs into his hand. "So I'll just…"
He edges away from the staring crowd wary to turn his back to them, on his way to the stairs. Julius jerks his head to beckon Draco from his seat to make their escape together. The younger boy stares over his shoulder in silent query but Julius only shakes his head, pushing his cousin out of the viewing box first and following quickly after.
From their tent hours later, Julius is unsettled but not surprised to see the orange glow of a burning campground. Waving like a banner in the smoky sky the Dark Mark hangs ominously over the muggy summer night.
Author's Note
Disclaimer guys, This is where it becomes evident that I have hazy memory of both books and movies. Anyway Did you guys know that a wolfhound's bite force is nearly double the power of a pitbull's? Insane
Peace and Love
