Sirius felt like a troublesome schoolboy again as he walked into his grandfather's office in answer to his summons. He didn't think he'd done anything wrong to receive the man's scrutiny this time, but a lion in a den of snakes could never be sure.

Arcturus Black was already seated behind his desk, finishing penning a missive with a peacock quill. Sirius bit down on a smile– he'd bet good money it had originally come from the tail of one of the birds that strutted around Malfoy Manor. He stood silently as he waited for Grandfather to finish and acknowledge him.

The old man set down his quill next to his ink pot and moved the paper to the side to dry before he beckoned Sirius to sit across from him.

"You will not be my successor."

Sirius flinched and immediately chastised himself in his head for doing so. "Ouch." He tried levity to cover up his reaction.

"You're saying you want to be the next Lord Black?" Grandfather didn't sound impressed and further raised an eyebrow at Sirius' hesitation. "Spit it out, son."

"Orion wanted me dead so Regulus could be the heir as the next eldest male," he evaded directly answering.

Grandfather snorted derisively. "Orion assumes far too much for one of his standing. He is your paterfamilia, but he is not the paterfamilia of House Black. It is true that I have never officially named an heir. By default, the lordship would pass to you if I died now under these circumstances." He paused, watching Sirius with a pointed gaze. "It was prideful of me, I will admit it."

"It's why you rarely left the manor," Sirius filled in. If something had happened to Arcturus during the war, the family would've been in disarray.

"In part, yes." Arcturus tapped his fingers against the rich oak finish. "But things have changed. So I ask you again: do you want to be Lord Black?"

Sirius slowly and mutely shook his head.

"I do not ask you this to punish you, Sirius," Grandfather said gently. It was the tone he normally reserved for the great-grandchildren who now graced his halls. "But rather to end your punishment."

"If not me, then who?"

Arcturus hummed, his fingertips beginning their steady drumming once more. "Who would you pick?"

"Not Bellatrix," he immediately answered. "She's crazy on a good day, even though she's the eldest."

Grandfather smirked. "Narcissa said the same."

Sirius gave him a ghost of a smile in return. "Andromeda, then. You couldn't ask for a better heir."

"It's why I won't be. But I want you to understand why."

He pursed his lips. Now this was beginning to remind him of his times being scolded in dear old Minnie's office at Hogwarts.

"Must we?"

"Yes. You are an adult and a paterfamilia in your own right now. I will have you understand what comes with it." Arcturus laced his fingers together and leaned back, resting them in his lap. "You have a reputation. I don't mean Azkaban, although there will always be lingering doubt in the minds of some. You and your friends, the Marauders. The students you targeted will not forget anytime soon, and they will be the ones seated in the Wizengamot and reading the papers."

"It was school," Sirius said quietly, bowing his head in regret. "We were kids."

"It has consequences," Arcturus firmly shot back.

"I know," he admits. "What can I do?"

"Raise young Harry. Continue to mend relationships with your cousins. Remake yourself into a caring guardian and a philanthropist. Work if you must," he added with a conceding sigh.

"And Andromeda?"

"Is a healer," Grandfather answered easily. "Married a respected and educated Muggleborn. Has a daughter soon to head to Hogwarts. Was infamously uninvolved in the war, outside of her duties at St. Mungos." He paused, letting Sirius process his words. "I do not have to worry about her having a higher loyalty to anyone other than her family."

Sirius ducked his head shamefully. "I won't go anywhere near the old bastard."

"As I said… doubts linger."

His hands clenched at the armrests of his chair, and he counted to five before responding. "I thought you said this wasn't a punishment."

"It's not. You won't be beholden by the family magic, the public, or the government to the same extent that the Head of House is. You will have your duties as a scion and as Proxy for House Potter until Harry reaches his majority. Otherwise… you are free to be yourself, Sirius."

Sirius slumped forward as if someone had cut his strings. A rush of fresh air filled his lungs– he could suddenly breathe after years of never noticing otherwise.

"Thank you, Grandfather."

"You've noticed?" Narcissa asked when she stopped by at the Tonks' residence later that week. Draco was already wiggling excitedly in her arms at the sight of his aunt, since he likely associated her with playtime with his cousins.

Andromeda stepped aside to let them into her house. Her own worry was clearly mirrored on her sister's paler face, made more evident by the way she knew exactly who the question referred to: Sirius.

"Bella and I both have," Andromeda agreed. "He's crashing from this fast and hard."

Harry and Hermione had both tumbled into the room now on unsteady feet, Nymphadora hot on their heels. Their babbles grew in excitement at the sight of Draco, and Narcissa set him down as Hermione began to cheer his name, "Day-co, Day-co!"

"I think it's related to Regulus' death," Cissa whispered as they observed the children greet each other, quickly becoming a pile of tangled limbs and rampant giggles on the floor. Nymphadora patient separated them, wrapping her arms around Harry and Draco's waists and carrying them back into the sitting room, Hermione toddling after her. "I think it's finally starting to hit him."

"Very likely part of it, along with the Potters. Grief fluctuates a lot like the tide from what I've seen."

Cissa pursed her lips but didn't disagree. "I think he needs his friends. Regulus is gone. The Potters are gone. Pettigrew framed him… is Lupin still alive?"

Meda paused and had to search her memories for several moments. There wasn't much she recalled of the boy given their few years of overlap at Hogwarts, so the most recent things she knew of had come from Sirius or other gossip. "I'm not sure. He's a werewolf. He wouldn't be allowed into St. Mungo's, so I haven't heard anything."

"I'll send a message to Bella. She'll appreciate the hunt."

"Hopefully not too much."

"Dora, Dora!"

Nymphadora lost focus on her mother's conversation as Hermione drew her attention. "Read tree 'gain!" She patted her hands on the burnt orange book.

Dora picked it up with a laugh. "You want to hear the story about the three brothers again? I've already read it once today for you."

"Me, Day-co, Har-ree! Tree!"

Dora nodded. "Yup, there are three of you! Nice job, kiddo." She handed the book back to Hermione as Harry and Draco began to squabble over a plush broomstick. "Let me stop our boys from fighting first…" She trailed off with a sigh as Harry let out an unholy shriek when Draco yanked the broom out of his hands. Next thing she knew, both boys and the broom began to lazily float off the carpet and into the air.

Hermione clapped her hands in delight. "Me too, me too!"

Dora shouted for her mum. This was far more than her weekly allowance paid her to handle, no matter how funny it was.

A/N: I think I pressure myself too much to write long chapters because so many fics in this fandom are epics, but that's just not my writing style. I hope y'all are okay with that 3 anyways... friendly reminder that if you can see what's wrong with Death Eater ideology (and I hope you do) but not with real-world domestic terrorism and fascism, you should probably take a deeper look at yourself. K cool thx!