It's been more than three years with almost a chapter every month and only five days have passed, this is hilarious.

Anyway, my low-pressure, worldbuilding, next-gen story with time travel, this is going somewhere but will also take a long time getting there, so. That's kind of the thing when you take such a ridiculous premise and decide to make something serious out of it, it grows beyond control.

Chapter 37: Pride and tradition

Melania watched curiously as Shivansh, Juliet and Harfang moved from groups to groups, asking questions and taking notes before the others could leave the dining room. She wasn't quite certain of what was going on, and could only guess the three were planning something.

A single look at Sirius told her it was probably his idea – he wasn't sharing yet, despite the amused smirk on his face, so Melania kept her curiosity to herself.

Arcturus rose from his seat, intent on retiring for the evening – her husband had looked tired all through the day, likely unused to having so many people living with them for so long, and perhaps also because he'd gotten up at a frankly and surprisingly early hour.

"I'll be upstairs, Melania, should you need anything. Sirius, do keep an eye on your cohort."

Their grandson raised an eyebrow at his grandfather and let himself slouch in his chair in an effort to appear unimpressed with Arcturus' wording.

While such attitude was unecessary, Melania did think Sirius was much less confrontational than he used to be – and also less tense than even three days ago – which she considered to be progress.

Her private talks with Arcturus about how not to push Sirius for no reason other than pride and tradition had not gone unneeded, apparently. Both for Sirius – who assuredly needed to feel accepted as he was by the family – and for Arcturus – who wasn't necessarily reluctant to listening to Melania's advice on the matter, but wouldn't have thought of it on his own.

"Yeah, yeah, go and get your beauty sleep, Grandpa."

The corners of Arcturus' eyes tightened a bit at the moniker, but he only nodded and moved on.

It wasn't like being called "grandpa" was a problem, honestly – just that Sirius never called him that, and the edge of sarcasm had been easy enough to pick up from both his tone and words.

Nothing to start a war over.

As their house-elf started to clean the table up, Melania called him over with a quiet hand sign.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Tisanes for the both of us, please, and do bring the honey pot."

Two of the kids, who'd lingered even after the questioning trio had moved on, hesitantly came over: Alastor and Elizabeth, the middle siblings of the only quatuor amongst the children.

"Can we have some, too?"

Sirius discreetly sat straighter in his chair, while Melania nodded:

"Of course, dears. Four cups it is, Sterhn. In fact, bring the teapot, it'll be easier."

"It will be done, Mistress Melania."

The house-elf was still bowing when he disappeared with a crack – not that the kitchen was far from here, but house-elves seemingly needed to complete a task given as fast as they could.

Alastor took a seat besides Melania, his younger sister to his right – closer than they usually sat when everyone else was there too.

"...Lamia remembers Sterhn a bit, but we were too young when he passed away. I'm not even sure if Aldebaran was born yet?"

Elizabeth shrugged, as if to say there was no way she'd know, if her older brother didn't himself.

On Melania's other side, her grandson made a complicated face.

"Did... Did you kids see the manor often?"

Until not so long ago, Sirius hadn't interacted with the family in years – or at least, not in any significant way – and that knowledge knocked back on the door to Melania's mind.

The young man, most likely, hadn't expected to visit.

It hurt a bit, but at the same time... Melania and Arcturus hadn't interfered since that day, about three years ago. They hadn't given Sirius a reason to come to them, and after Walburga...

Orion, their son – Sirius' father – had come to them less than a week after the teenager had left their house, asking for the Blacks not to try and force his son back into the fold. Asking for Arcturus, in truth, to get in the way of anything Walburga might try – or Pollux, perhaps.

Orion's father had, as always, kept his musings to himself, only letting a few words hint at what conclusions might lurk in his brain, but Melania... Melania had stopped her son before he'd left, not only because there were details he hadn't spoken of, not only because she couldn't guess at it all and expect to be right about everything, but also because, maybe, Orion needed someone to talk to.

Arcturus might not feel the need to confirm his suspicions, but that also meant it wouldn't occur to him that their son might struggle with confiding in anyone.

The crux of it, sadly – the little Orion had been willing to tell his mother, because of course the son was barely better at this than his father – was that Sirius' relationship with Walburga was so explosive in both directions that Orion thought forcing it back into place would only lead to disaster, and not only for the teenager himself. There was something Melania's son could barely understand between his wife and their eldest, an undercurrent of tension, a string snapped taut, something that resonated between the two of them in the worst ways.

"I can feel it too, sometimes, tugging just outside my skin, but Walburga... She can't seem to resist the vibrating, it gets to her head and heart before she can notice it for what it is. And Sirius... If his mother starts, he grabs the string and keeps it tighter bound than ever. I can't really blame him, Mother, because he is but a child still and Walburga should know better, but in the end... In the end it just makes it worse. I fear that if... I don't know how to help either of them, and as long as the danger persists, Sirius will be better off with those... with the Potters."

Orion hadn't seemed pleased with that – and how could he, when it was his own child running away, regardless of his opinion on the family meant to take him in instead? – but the heart of the matter was that he'd had no alternative to propose.

Arcturus had done everything he could to detach himself – as Lord Black, as head of a Noble and Most Ancient House – from their grandson, after that, essentially putting a big "no getting involved, for good or for worse" panel on Sirius' back. Walburga had taken the stance gracelessly, gritting her teeth and looking like she wanted to go and drag her son back by the scruff of his neck even as she'd told everyone she only had one son from now on, but the rest of the family had – more or less doubtfully – complied with Lord Black's ruling.

Now, of course, that hadn't stopped Arcturus from paying someone to keep an eye on Sirius – without admitting that he cared or worried – and dropping snippets of news Melania and Orion's way with the most detached countenance her husband could muster.

It certainly wasn't the same as seeing him in person.

Elizabeth only gave her older brother a quick look, not even waiting for approval:

"We grew up here."

Sterhn came back with cups, teapot and honey, just as Sirius let out a strangled "ah".

Melania had asked herself that very question only a couple of days earlier, back when Lamia had come with the adults to the ground-floor office – and here was the answer.

The house-elf left – Sirius' hands looked a tad jittery when he spoke up:

"I... The manor belongs to the lord of the House of Black. Dad should have been... Or Regulus, I ran away for a reason, I wouldn't raise my children with my parents here, there's no way I would."

Before Melania could say anything about that, Alastor gave his not-father a calming look while serving the tisanes for everyone.

"You're here today, aren't you? You're still the second heir, even if you left. Your grandfather didn't disown you, your father didn't argue for it. Someday, Black Manor will be yours. I don't know if you'll want to live here, but Dad... Well. Dad said it was better than going back to Grimmauld Place, and by the time we came along he'd gotten used to the manor."

Sirius didn't look convinced, but the teenager pushed a teacup towards him and the young man accepted it, even if he didn't drink from it right away.

Melania... Melania wasn't entirely happy to hear about a day she and Arcturus wouldn't be there anymore, but she was almost eighty, now. Her children were both middle-aged, her grandchildren were adults. Her friends had all grown old, too – some had died already. Her parents had passed away during the last decade, both her brother and her sister Maureen were great-grandparents, even if those were rather recent news.

...Maureen's first great-grandchild had died at five years old, only a ghost remaining.

Death was part of life, and Melania, quite honestly, would rather see the next generations taking over the manor because she wasn't there anymore than witness them passing away before she did.

That part wasn't upsetting. The lack of explanation for Orion's – and Walburga's, by default – absence in Black Manor, however, was a different story.

Sirius mumbled over his teacup:

"Regulus wants the job, I'm sure. Let him have it. I don't need the manor or the title."

Elizabeth winced as she put down her own cup and added some honey into it.

"Uncle Regulus doesn't envy you the lordship, or, he won't in a couple of decades, can't really say today. Besides, uh... I don't think you want him in a position of political power right now."

Melania frowned, her eyes going over the three youngsters' faces in search of an explanation for that. Twelve, fourteen, nineteen – they were young, yes, but there was something they knew and weren't saying, and Melania didn't know if it was because they didn't feel it needed to be spelled out, or if they were keeping it quiet because of her.

The thing was, she was worried enough about her other grandson as it was – she didn't like how convinced he was with blood extremist rhetoric, how naturally it seemed to come to him these days, not only because she disagreed with most of those views, but also because she knew Regulus enough to tell he wouldn't survive getting caught up amongst the more active believers, that he could trap himself there if he wasn't careful – and the way the children were talking...

Sirius scrunched his nose, looking morose.

"Right, no. Maybe your Regulus wised up with time, but today... I just haven't thought about the lordship in years, I'd just assumed he'd taken my place already."

Melania sighed.

"Drink your tisane, Sirius. It'll relax you. And no, Arcturus doesn't intend to name Regulus as second Heir, didn't before you came back, and wouldn't unless something happened to you. There's... I know you two disagree on a number of points, but your grandfather isn't pleased with the current turmoil either. Arcturus certainly doesn't approve of murder and torture as the first and only answers in society, and even beyond that, he really doesn't like the amount of collateral damage and other victims on all sides. Your brother... I don't believe he'd ever do anything as barbaric as what those Death Eaters get up to, but he is getting tangled with some unsavory characters that could try to use him or this family's power, and you know how much Blacks hate being ordered around."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something – seemed to rethink it and shook his head.

"That I can believe. Any of us need to be buttered up to do anything we aren't already convinced of already, and even then we're too damn suspicious of flattery and hidden motives to let it work half the time. Grandfather would backstab anyone who tried to force him into anything."

Alastor, absolutely fearless and about to put a third spoonful of honey in his cup, nodded pensively:

"I mean, you had to get it from somewhere, right?"

Sirius only squinted at the boy, obviously unwilling to get into a losing argument but also not very pleased with the comparison – Melania thought it was spot on.

A question had been on her tongue since earlier, even if she dreaded the answer:

"None of this explains why Sirius' father wasn't living in the manor during your youth, however. Did he and Walburga refuse to move from Grimmauld Place?"

It wasn't an unfair assumption, though it went against tradition – which was, perhaps, the most unconvincing part of that hypothesis, considering their personalities – as they'd been at Grimmauld for about half their lives now. They'd moved in in 1953, right after their wedding, had raised Sirius and Regulus there: it was their home. If Sirius had finally come back to the family, Walburga might have been so delighted – and willing to stamp "Black" on her eldest son in every metaphorical way possible – that she'd have convinced Orion to have him manage the manor instead of letting him wander away once more.

The truth was, Black Manor was the residence of the Black lord, point. The other familial dwellings were meant for the rest of the family, yes, but Lord Black? Lord Black was meant to live in Black Manor. All the noble Houses followed that rule, the family head always living in the main residence, easy to find, a stable presence.

It was tradition.

This time, Elizabeth sought her brother's support – and Melania's heart clenched in her chest.

Alastor, always so poised, so calm and at ease, cleared his throat.

"Hum."

His green eyes slid off Melania before he could really start speaking, as if he didn't feel comfortable saying this while looking at her.

"Dad is Lord Black. Has been since 1996. Or, technically, 1991, when Arcturus... passed away, but Dad wasn't able to take the title right away."

Elizabeth nodded quietly, her own silver eyes stuck within her tisane cup.

"Everyone else is... kind of dead?"

This time, it was Melania's hand that trembled.

"Everyone...?"

1991 wasn't a bad date for her husband: he'd been born in 1901, which meant he'd reached ninety years old. Melania and Arcturus' generation being gone wasn't such a catastrophe, but everyone?

Elizabeth grimaced and amended:

"Almost everyone? Uncle Regulus was thought dead for seventeen years, but he turned out alright, Callidora made it to my tenth birthday, Narcissa and Andromeda are well, but apart from that?"

Alastor glanced at the family tree wall behind them and added:

"The early nineties had a lot of funerals, I think. And, hum. Not just the old generations."

Melania was almost certain this was a bad idea, but:

"My son... My children, they..."

Neither of the children answered.

Sirius wasn't saying anything.

Melania shook her head, but no, it wasn't making anything better. There was no way to say, nothing she could cling to. Orion was... Lucretia... She had no idea if they'd die before her or not, but even so, even if they didn't, the nineties was too soon. Lucretia was born in 1925 – like Walburga, and for all that Melania had reservations about her daughter-in-law, she didn't want to imagine her dead for all that – she'd have been in her sixties. Orion was younger than that, born in 1929, he'd barely turned fifty in April. They were too young to die by the early nineties.

And the way Elizabeth had put it? It wasn't just the older ones, just Orion, Lucretia, Walburga. It was the entire House of Black, it was Bellatrix, it was Cygnus – Alphard and Dorea had died two years earlier, already, was this the beginning of it, 1977, but no, even before that, her husband's siblings were dead already, Lycoris and Regulus, 1959 and 1965, and now, now Melania didn't know where to stop, when this could be considered normal and when it had become too much.

One or two and the passage of time was normal, but everyone?

"You said..."

The words didn't come.

Someone's hands touched her shoulders, settled there. A presence behind her, but she hadn't heard footsteps, hadn't noticed anyone moving around. A cool, slowly-beating heart against her back. A cheek and the low breathing that came with it on the top of her head.

Black hair fell like a curtain behind her own whitened locks.

"Grandmother."

Sometimes, Melania didn't know what to make of her husband's family – of her own children, of everyone who was a Black by Blood and not just by name – of the way they weren't quite normal.

Sometimes, it wasn't a problem.

Her voice strangled itself on a sob, so she didn't try to say more.

Sirius kept breathing while holding onto her, and perhaps, perhaps...

"Dad isn't dead yet, Grandmother."

Melania's own strangled intakes of air hesitantly followed Sirius', growing more stable, if still a bit painful. It took some time – seconds, maybe, or minutes, Melania couldn't say.

Sirius was still alive, him, and he was here. Less than a week ago, he wouldn't have set foot in the manor, and now, now he was here. Just because the children had appeared in his – in their lives.

Melania forced herself to look for a handkerchief, to put her reaction behind her. She couldn't feel her fingers as she dabbed shiveringly at her eyes, but they moved nonetheless. The handkerchief went back inside her robes, her hands moved almost on their own to accept the new cup of tisane Alastor was pushing her way.

Sirius straightened behind her, but didn't move. The solid presence of his slender hands stayed.

"I'm sorry for this, I shouldn't have..."

Elizabeth gave her a rather unimpressed look from her side of the table, and it had nothing to do with Melania's emotional crisis.

"Why not?"

Her great-grandmother laughed a bit, even though it didn't sound very joyous.

"I'm much older than you three, Elizabeth. I shouldn't have to rely on you to keep my composure, and you shouldn't have to deal with my inadequacy."

This time, it was Sirius who made his opinion concerning Melania's quandary known – with a scoff:

"You've just heard about your children's deaths, of course you're not taking it well. Now, the important part in all this is that Lucretia and Dad aren't dead yet, and yes, they will die one day, but nothing says they have to die in a particular way, on a particular day. The first thing we should do is make sure they aren't going to keel over tomorrow, and see if there's anything we can do about it."

Melania's laugh was much more genuine this time, if a bit weak.

"Look at you, Sirius, a wizard on a mission. See, you'll do a fine head of the family one day, you care, you want to help, kids tell you about something that might or might not become a problem and you immediately ask what you can do to make it better."

The young man quivered – quite strongly, Melania thought he was doing it on purpose – and left her back to go and sit once again, a rather miffed look on his handsome face.

"Not anytime soon, I hope. The Pater Nostrum upstairs can wait a decade or two before deciding he's had enough, and after him there's my father. No reason to rush it all."

Melania took a moment to finish her second cup of tisane.

Alastor and Elizabeth shared a long look – Sirius saw it, his eyes narrowed for a second in their direction, but he seemed more worried about his grandmother for now. She smiled.

"Arcturus might name Orion his delegate earlier than that. We aren't growing any younger, you know. I doubt he'll keep his duties with the Wizengamot much longer, not when he can give your father more experience before he'll need to take the title of Lord Black proper."

"Uh uh. I might have to stick around, then. Make sure Dear Old Dad doesn't let himself be swayed by the sweet, sweet call of blood supremacy, because your son, Madam, your son is frankly a bit too interested in the subject for my tastes."

Something twisted in Melania's stomach – but this time, it wasn't concern for Orion, it was a very different kind of worry – and she searched her grandson's face for more, for something to tell her exactly what Sirius meant by that. If it was only a matter of Orion believing in blood purity – which would be disappointing, but maybe not quite surprising; Melania herself didn't know if she was entirely free of such prejudices – or something much worse.

She'd like to say that she knew her own son, but of the two of them, Sirius had spent more time with Orion during the last twenty years.

Besides, Melania did know her son, which meant she also knew his failings.

Sirius clicked his tongue and shrugged:

"A great excuse to keep an eye on him, and if your husband Old-and-Mighty backs me up, Dad might actually listen to me and my points, especially without Mother there to get in a tiff over the smallest disagreement. Who knows, maybe we'll even get along."

He didn't seem to want to believe that last part, but he'd said it, which had to count for something.

As if a book closed and put aside, Sirius' expression softened with the end of that conversation.

"Go and join Grandfather for the evening, I think you've been through enough. I'll make sure the kids don't do anything catastrophic. What do you say, Beth, Alastor?"

Elizabeth looked Melania's way a bit longer – then she stood up, put her cup and spoon neatly in her saucer, and crossed her arms.

"Only if we're doing something together. We've barely spent any time with you, me and Alastor."

"Sure, let's do that. Come on, do you like the observatory?"