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The Other Side: Thick and Thin (Book 1)	By : ChapterEight Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 9585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling or her licensees, so I do not own Harry Potter or make any money off of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
"Remember that we have to get together this summer," James reminded Sirius as they waited their turn to step off the Hogwarts Express. "You can't get out of it this year."
Sirius pinched his lips together just a bit, because this was at least the ten billionth time James had repeated the same thing, and glared over the sea of students who were clogging up the corridor as if his displeasure alone would make them hurry up. They had apparently chosen a compartment surrounded by every Mudblood who attended Hogwarts, and now they had to wait while dozens of people loaded heavy trunks and cat carriers onto trolleys by hand. Sirius was reminded unpleasantly of the one time he had shared a compartment with Mary MacDonald, and his frown deepened even more.
"Don't give me that look," complained James, who was apparently not at all bothered by the hot, stuffy press of bodies surrounding them.
Sirius chose to let James think that his expression was entirely aimed at him, which was much easier than explaining that he was annoyed by a bunch of incompetent Mudbloods. He turned his head to look down at James, who was pressed close to his side.
"I already told you that I'll do my best to come, but I don't know if my parents will let me."
"Well, I'll definitely come," injected Remus. Then a queer expression passed briefly over his face, drawing even more attention to the pink scar that ran from his forehead to his cheek. "Well, you know, if the timing is right."
James offered the other boy a tight smile. "Don't worry, Remus. I already have all of your, er, prior engagements marked in my calendar, so we can plan around you."
If Remus noticed that his friend's smile didn't reach his eyes, he didn't say anything about it. He probably just thought that James was still angry with him over the fact that he'd become friends with Lily Evans without anyone knowing. (He actually still was, a bit.) Or, knowing the werewolf's penchant for self-loathing, Sirius thought it was also possible that he assumed James was annoyed or angry at having to plan around his condition. The truth was that Sirius and James had planned to only invite Peter so that they could fill him in on their project and spend the summer brewing the necessary potion, but Remus had overheard them talking about it and they'd had to act like they had always intended to invite everybody.
Now they would also try to have a few visits where they included Remus, just to allay suspicion (and because they wanted to spend time with him over the summer, but mostly just to allay suspicion as far, as Sirius was concerned).
By the time the four Gryffindors were finally able to alight onto the platform, much of the crowd had begun to queue at the single exit to King's Cross Station, and the rest had formed isolated groups. Sirius spotted his parents standing with their usual friends, and as always he suffered a moment of uncertainty about how to separate himself from his friends so that he could rejoin the ranks of the respectable pure-bloods.
This year, Peter saved him the trouble by announcing, "I told my mother to wait for me in the station. Avoid having to deal with the crowd in here, you know."
"That was probably a good idea. The platform seems to get more crowded every year," said Remus.
Sirius thought it was probably just that they were larger now than they'd been as first years, not that Hogwarts was more crowded.
Peter offered an affirmative noise, but Sirius knew that the truth was he was a bit embarrassed by his mother, Mudblood and fat and uncultured as she was, and hadn't wanted to risk her being introduced to James or Sirius's mothers. It had been quite bad enough, Peter had confided in Sirius only the night before as they'd finished packing, when his mother had met Sirius's father during their first year.
After Peter's announcement, any lingering awkwardness about goodbyes seemed to evaporate, and the boys offered their promises to write and went their separate ways.
"They'll be along shortly," Sirius heard Rabastan telling his parents' group as he approached.
Sirius could only assume that he was referring to Malfoy and Cissy, who were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the group consisted only of Rabastan, Sirius's family, and Mr. Malfoy.
Sirius experienced a moment of near panic as he approached. He could almost feel the older boy's mouth and hands pressed against him like phantom limbs, and he knew that anyone who saw him in those brief seconds would have known immediately that he was thinking about something extremely improper. In the end, he managed to arrange his face into an indifferent mask as he stepped into the narrow space between Rabastan and Walburga. Although they weren't quite touching, in such close proximity Rabastan's body heat seemed to sear right into Sirius's skin through their Muggle-friendly clothing.
"There you are, my darling," greeted Walburga with a slight air of reprimand in her otherwise-even tone. "I had begun to wonder if you had missed the train."
He dutifully leaned forward to kiss her cheek and realized with some surprise that he was almost exactly her height now. "Hello, Mother. I was delayed trying to get off the train; it seems that fully a quarter of Hogwarts students haven't figured out yet how to shrink their belongings to manageable sizes."
A round of laughter went through the group, and Sirius noticed as he pulled away from his mother that Evans, Vance, and MacDonald were standing nearby with their parents and had all turned to look. He studiously ignored Vance and Evans's glares and turned back to his own, reaching out to shake his uncle's and Mr. Malfoy's hands and reluctantly pressing a kiss to his aunt's proffered cheek.
"Where are you parents?" Uncle Cygnus asked Rabastan as soon the commotion had died down. "I had hoped to extend a personal invitation to your father when I saw him."
"Oh, yes, and I should like to see your dear sister," inserted Walburga, sending her eldest son a pointed glance that he refused to acknowledge.
Nobody except Sirius seemed to notice the look of embarrassed discomfort that flitted over Rabastan's face, but then again nobody here knew Rabastan (and his face) as well as Sirius did.
"They have already collected my sister and gone," he answered levelly. Sirius knew that he was only allowing the other adults to assume that his parents had greeted him before they'd gone, but that they really hadn't at all. He had to fight the urge to raise his fingers up to his lips as he thought about what he'd learned regarding why Rabastan's family had chosen to exclude him. With a small smile at Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella, Rabastan added, "I am staying with my brother and his lovely wife, so I will Apparate straight there."
Anymore uncomfortable questions on that or any other subject were automatically forgotten when Malfoy and Cissy appeared. Nobody else had a chance to say anything before Aunt Druella noticed the new piece of jewelry adorning her youngest daughter's hand and promptly exclaimed, "Oh!"
Walburga quickly followed suit, but neither Uncle Cygnus nor Mr. Malfoy looked the least bit surprised. Sirius supposed that Lucius had asked Narcissa's father for permission at some point. Mr. Malfoy's expression was more inscrutable than pleased, but Sirius knew that Lucius wouldn't have asked anybody to marry him without discussing it with his father beforehand, even if he might've had to fight for his father's blessing due to recent circumstances.
Sirius and Rabastan found themselves quickly shoved aside, along with Orion and Regulus, so that the couple's parents and the bride's excited aunt could crowd around the two. The four shared amused looks, and Orion addressed his sons with a jokingly accusing glare.
"It was very cruel of you two not to warn me about this. I would have worn more comfortable shoes if I had known that we were going to have to stand here waiting for your mother to finish congratulating her niece."
The three younger wizards laughed, and Rabastan added, "Somebody probably ought to have warned Lucius what would happen if he proposed before we left school."
Indeed, Malfoy was standing stiff and unhappy next to his fiancée, clearly not at all pleased by all of the very public attention their families were drawing from everybody nearby on the platform.
"Why didn't you warn him, then?" asked Regulus. "You're his best friend."
Rabastan's cruel laugh sent a shiver up Sirius's spine, and not because it made him afraid or uncomfortable.
"I just imagined the look on his face—see, that one he's making right now—and couldn't bring myself to stop him."
Sirius couldn't turn to look at Lucius's expression because he was having too much trouble tearing his eyes away from Rabastan's face. When he finally managed it he found himself instead looking again at the crowd of Gryffindor girls and their families, whose attention had yet again been drawn to Sirius's own group. Mrs. Vance was whispering something to the MacDonalds and the Evanses, and even from this distance it was clear that they were discussing the size of Narcissa's ring. He couldn't blame them for noticing, since the thing was the size of a small island, but he felt his lips form a sneer at the ill breeding. If his mother hadn't been wearing delicate gloves made of the finest lightweight Acromantula-spun silk, they would have been able to see a ring of similar size on her finger, too.
But nobody ever talked about such things in public. It was all about being seen and taking notice, and gossip was reserved for the privacy of one's own home.
He turned back to his father, friend, and brother in time to hear Orion say, "Well, Sirius certainly has my permission to go. His mother won't be pleased, but at least one of us menfolk should be allowed to escape if he can."
Sirius blinked, quite in the dark about exactly where he had permission to go, since he hadn't been paying attention. He only had a moment to register Regulus's jealous expression and his father's teasing look before Rabastan had made his farewells, hooked a hand around Sirius's wrist, and begun pulling him towards the now nearly-clear exit.
"Where are we going?" he asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
Rabastan turned to look at him with an arched eyebrow and laughing sapphire eyes. "To Diagon Alley, of course. Should I be hurt by your inattention?"
Sirius blushed and ducked his head so that the older boy couldn't see, not that it seemed to do much good. Rabastan loosed a single laugh and tugged on Sirius's arm as he shoved his way past the families waiting to exit the platform. There was a lot grumbling and a few loud protests as they broke the queue, none of which seemed to bother Rabastan at all. He laughed again as he pulled Sirius through the barrier and past several confused Muggles, and then suddenly they were spinning and being sucked through a space the size of a straw.
Sirius's feet hit the cobblestone street hard. He pitched forward with a groan, trying desperately not to vomit, and only Rabastan's strong grip kept him upright.
"Bellatrix wasn't kidding," his friend said, clearly trying to cover the amusement in his voice with something that he probably thought approximated concern. It didn't work. "You really are horrible at Apparition."
"You didn't even warn me!" croaked Sirius.
Rabastan's hand came up to rub his back. "You have to admit that, for a pure-blood, your difficulty is pretty amusing…."
As far as Sirius was concerned, he didn't have to admit any such thing. Especially not to Rabastan Lestrange of all people. Instead of answering, he stood upright with as much grace as he could muster and straightened his silk shirt with precise movements. Partly because he was curious but mostly because he wanted to change the subject, he pointed out, "This isn't Diagon Alley."
They were standing at the mouth of a narrow, filthy alley next to the Gleaming Gytrash, Knockturn Alley's biggest apothecary. It was at the dead end of the street and was populated only by an apparently homeless witch who had set up a ramshackle shelter for herself and a few mangy cats. She was staring at them as if she'd never seen anything like them before, and Sirius wasn't sure if it was because of the unseemly display he'd made out of himself or because the sight of two wizards in clearly expensive Muggle clothing was a rare sight in Knockturn Alley.
He felt Rabastan shrug and realized suddenly how close they were to each other.
"Do you reckon your father would have let you come if I had said I wanted to bring you here?"
"Probably," replied Sirius, although he wasn't able to give a clear yes. "My mother wouldn't have, though."
"Well, I wasn't going to risk it. I've been waiting to get you alone since Hogsmeade."
Sirius swallowed and nodded, but he couldn't find any words to speak. The truth was that he had somewhat avoided being alone with his friend. He had waited until breakfast the morning after his adventure to return the other boy's wand, and after that it had been relatively easy to simply fail to find any time to meet alone between Rabastan's NEWT preparations and their Quidditch practices and James's new obsession with finding Hogwarts' secret passageways and Sirius's multiple detentions.
He didn't think Rabastan could have blamed him for it; honorable pure-blood boys simply did not go around snogging other boys without being a bit confused by the whole thing, and Sirius had needed time to think. But he also figured it would be best if he just allowed his friend to think that they'd just been unlucky, not that Sirius had been avoiding him.
Rabastan, who still had one hand wrapped around Sirius's forearm and the other splayed across his back, pulled him deeper into the narrow alley. Sirius followed reluctantly. He wasn't reluctant to accompany the older boy alone into a dark alley, exactly, but he was a bit anxious. Plus the closeness of the grimy walls and the gleaming eyes of the tramp watching their every move were unappealing, to say the least. When they were halfway between the mouth of the alley and the witch at the end of it, Rabastan spun Sirius to face him.
Their eyes met for a few seconds, and unlike in Hogsmeade, this time around Sirius could have stopped the whole thing from happening. He didn't.
Rabastan leaned down and pressed their lips together. The kiss was sweet for only a few seconds before their tongues met in a salacious tangle in Sirius's mouth. This time instead of freezing or thinking of pushing the larger boy's hands away when Rabastan wrapped them around his waist, Sirius let his fingers trail up Rabastan's soft sleeves until he could twist them into the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
Sirius was so caught up with mentally cataloguing the differences between kissing Rabastan and kissing a girl (the way he had to tilt is face up instead of down, a hard chest pressing against him, just a hint of stubble scraping against his skin) that they might have kissed for hours for all he knew.
In reality they had probably only stayed leaning against the dirty bricks for a few minutes before Rabastan pulled back and rested his forehead against Sirius's. Their hair, damp from the oppressive summer heat, tickled Sirius's face.
He opened his eyes and saw Rabastan's blue eyes gleaming back at him. He thought for a moment that the other boy was going to say something nice or romantic, and he panicked for half a second wondering what he would say in return.
Then Rabastan said, "You taste like a pumpkin pasty."
Sirius's lips, still wet from their kiss and only just beginning to swell slightly, parted in surprise quickly followed by indignation.
"Well, you are developing a worrying habit of shoving your tongue down my throat next to trash bins," he pointed out, indicating the overflowing receptacles several paces away from them.
"I hate pumpkin," added Rabastan, as if he hadn't heard.
"I deserve better than a back alley, Lestrange," retorted Sirius.
Rabastan sobered all at once, the teasing smirk slipping off of his face. He pulled back with a severe frown marring his previously happy countenance.
"You do," he confirmed, "but we can't exactly share a sundae at Fortescue's, Sirius."
"I know."
And he did. After all, Rabastan's parents had forced him out to live with his brother and hadn't even waited to speak to him at King's Cross. Sirius could only imagine what his family would do.
"I thought that I had enough freedom as a second son that I didn't have to hide my preference completely," said Rabastan, his expression still severe and serious. "I never expected my parents to let me bring a boyfriend home for tea, of course," he added, a brief smile flitting across his full lips at the thought, "but I thought that if I told them, then at least they would stop pressuring me to marry Cousin Eloise of the French Lestranges. Obviously they didn't take it well."
Sirius's stomach tightened at the thought of Rabastan marrying anybody. His nostrils flared as he exhaled the breath he'd been holding.
"And I have even less freedom than you do—"
"And an even stricter family," interjected Rabastan.
"—and a grandfather who has made his feelings about Uncle Alphard's preferences quite clear," Sirius acknowledged. He grimaced at the thought of his grandfather saying some of those hateful words about him. "I understand, Rab. Really." Then, in an attempt to lighten the mood, he added, "But if you promise to find a better location, then I'll promise to clean my teeth if I've been eating pumpkin pasties."
Rabastan laughed aloud. The witch at the end of the alley flinched visibly at the sound, which drew Sirius's attention to her. He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten her presence and snogged another boy right in front of her. His expression must have displayed the alarm he felt, because Rabastan drew his wand and turned so quickly that the resulting breeze ruffled Sirius's hair.
The Slytherin relaxed perceptibly when he saw that it was only the homeless woman from before, as opposed to someone who actually mattered. Still, Sirius thought, for all their talk about being careful, a public alley wasn't the smartest choice.
The sickly green glow had filled the alley before Sirius had time to process Rabastan's muttered "Avada Kedavra," and the witch at the end of the alley fell backwards until the upper part of her body disappeared into her haphazard shelter.
Sirius stared with wide eyes at her legs protruding out into the alley.
"Erm…" he finally began cautiously, although he wasn't actually afraid that Rabastan would do anything to him. "Was that… strictly necessary?"
Rabastan shrugged and turned his wand on himself, nonchalantly casting a Cleaning Charm as if nothing exceptional had happened.
"I'm hopeless at Memory Charms," he said as if that explained everything. He turned his Cleaning Charm on Sirius. "Besides, she was the first human I managed to kill without having to muster up the proper emotions. Dolohov will be excited."
Sirius tore his eyes away from the tatty stockings and worn boots and met Rabastan's gaze. His friend's sapphire eyes were warm and open as he surveyed the results of his handiwork on Sirius's clothes. There was no trace of anything in his eyes or his expression that gave away what he'd just done, and Sirius realized that he didn't see it as anything significantly different from the mice he'd practiced on.
It was a somewhat sobering realization, but if Sirius were honest with himself then he would have to admit that he was more troubled by the fact that he didn't really mind what Rabastan had done than actually troubled by what Rabastan had done.
"Bloody Death Eaters," he mumbled under his breath.
It must have been audible enough for Rabastan to hear, because he grinned in amusement and leaned down to press an affectionate but brief kiss to Sirius's lips.
"Come on," he said when he pulled back. "I did actually bring you here for a reason besides just that I wanted to kiss you."
They exited the narrow alley cautiously, staying back in the shadows as a hunched man in worn robes wobbled down the steps from the apothecary and made his way down the street. It wouldn't do to be caught in an alley with a dead body, after all. When the coast was clear, Rabastan led Sirius out onto the street.
As they navigated carefully over the uneven cobblestones, Sirius asked, "Well, what are we doing then?"
"Getting spare wands. Not that I really minded letting you borrow mine, but it made me think how useful it would be to have a second, unregistered wand."
He looked extraordinarily pleased with himself for the idea, and Sirius had to admit that it was a good one. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it himself after having gone through so much trouble to borrow Rabastan's and Janice's wands.
"It's illegal to have an unregistered wand," he pointed out, although he knew that would hardly matter to a Death Eater who had just performed the Killing Curse a few minutes previously.
Sure enough, Rabastan turned to pin him with an incredulous stare. "Siri, love, that's why we're in Knockturn Alley."

Life at Grimmauld Place was even more unbearable than usual because of all the wedding shit. (That's what Sirius called it in his head, but not what he'd ever dare say out loud if any Black female was anywhere in the same building.) He still refused to spend any time with his grandfather—he had even started coming down to breakfast late, after Kreacher assured him that Arcturus had left the table—but he did spend a lot of time in his father's study.
He had invited Regulus to join them, but his brother usually declined. Apparently he enjoyed the extra attention Arcturus heaped on him in Sirius's absence, plus the attention he got if he spent time with all the twittering wedding planners.
Orion had shrugged when Sirius had related this news to him. "He's always been your mother's son more than mine, Sirius, and you've always been my son more than hers."
Sirius wanted to snidely ask if his father meant that both Sirius and himself were great disappointments to his grandfather, but he knew that would hurt his father, so he determinedly pressed his lips together to keep it from coming out.
Instead they focused on lessons and determinedly avoided any uncomfortable topics. His father had taken over his lessons, since Sirius had flatly refused to go to Arcturus's study when summoned. The consequences of this arrangement were that Sirius became even more exceptional at Transfiguration and Charms, because his father was also brilliant in those subjects, but he learned absolutely nothing about Potions, because his father was even more hopeless than he was.
Their arrangement continued comfortably for several weeks, until one day Orion announced, "I want to go to Diagon Alley this morning."
Sirius looked up in surprise. "All right. Do you want me to ask Regulus?"
"No, this needs to be just the two of us," clarified his father, an expression on his face that Sirius couldn't quite read.
"He thinks you love me more than you do him," Sirius had said before he realized he'd said it. He regretted it almost the moment it left his mouth, when he saw the pained expression cross over his father's face. Still, even if it was unkind, it was the truth.
Orion wore a pinched expression and looked warily at the door, as if somebody would come bursting through it at any moment. Then he deliberately smoothed his face into its usual calm expression.
"That can't be helped today, I'm afraid."
Diagon Alley was always crowded in the summer. The press of the crowd was beyond stifling—even in summer magical folks seemed to think it was necessary to wear full robes. Sirius wondered, not for the first time, why no one had ever cast cooling spells over the alley. The cooling spells people cast individually on their clothing could only go so far.
Sirius followed Orion down the cobblestone street, past the street vendors and the crowd of kids always loitering in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, in complete silence. Something was definitely off with his father, but Sirius couldn't begin to guess what. He didn't bother to ask questions when Orion turned into Knockturn Alley. He caught a glimpse of Emmeline Vance emerging from Gringotts; she glared at him when she realized that he heading down into the Dark district, and he offered a sardonic smile before turning his back and following his father down the narrow stone stairway.
There seemed to be a lot more respect aimed in his direction when Sirius was with his father. When it had just been him and Rabastan a few weeks earlier, nobody had threatened them or anything, but people certainly had not had any compunctions about openly staring at them or trying to talk to Sirius. With Orion, the street vendors and other denizens of Knockturn Alley seemed to avoid so much as looking in his direction.
Sirius wondered what sort of things his father must have done to earn that level of deference, and he wondered how soon he would be able to match them himself.
"Now then," said Orion as they finally approached one of the buildings, "we have to meet here because home isn't safe, but don't speak to anyone else, and for Merlin's sake don't touch anything."
He'd never noticed the plain wooden door in the very corner of Knockturn Alley, but it was where Orion led him now. Orion's smart leather shoes clicked with purpose against the uneven stone steps, and when he was standing at the stop of the stoop he shot Sirius a put-upon look and wrapped his handkerchief around his hand before knocking on the door.
Sirius normally would have laughed at his father's aversion to touching the grimy wood with his bare skin, but under the circumstances he tried his best to be a good pure-blood son and keep his expression perfectly straight.
A small hatch in the door opened at eye level, which for Orion meant that it opened at about neck level. Sirius watched the watery blue eyes on the other side of the opening take in the fine robes and elaborate tie pin his father was wearing (the Black family crest done in exquisitely wrought platinum with green diamonds) before they traveled slowly up to Orion's face. Without uttering a word, the man stepped back and closed the hatch again, and a few moments later the door swung open with an ear-rending squeak.
Orion swept through the doorway with all the confidence of his station, and Sirius could only follow, although he was sure that he didn't make anywhere near as impressive an entrance.
The establishment turned out to be a pub. It was dimly lit, so Sirius couldn't make out any of the features of the wizards and witches sitting at the heavy wood tables. He supposed that was probably the point, now that he thought about it. The bar itself took up most of the wall next to the front door, and across the way a fire was roaring in the surprisingly ornate fireplace, even though it was the middle of summer.
"Mr. Black, please," the doorman said, eyeing Sirius with something between distaste and panic and placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving further into the room. "This is no place for children!"
Orion, who was several steps ahead by then, smoothly came to a halt. Sirius could tell from the way his father held his shoulders and head that he was in no mood for games, and it was confirmed when he turned slowly and pinned the doorman with a look cold enough to freeze fire.
"Are you questioning how I choose to raise my son?"
His tone was as frigid as his expression, but it was calm and even. Conversation around the room stilled as everybody strained to hear what was being said. The doorman sputtered for a few moments, and when he failed to make any real reply, Orion sniffed disdainfully.
"No, I thought not. Unhand him immediately."
The command hung in the air, no doubt buoyed by the thick tension. When the man failed to release him after a few moments, Sirius took matters into his own hands and shrugged the man away, physically removing himself from the grip and taking a step further away for good measure.
He could still smell the stale whisky that seemed to have soaked into the doorman's very being, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He hoped his robes would be salvageable; he really liked them.
"But Mr. Moribund—!" exclaimed the doorman.
"You may tell your proprietor that his debts are past due, and that if he has anything to say to me it had better be on that subject and nothing else," Orion interrupted. Sirius could see the glint of humor in his eyes, but he doubted that anyone else would have been able to read his father's expression so clearly. He didn't wait for the other man to speak again but spun on his heel and said, "Come along, Sirius."
Nobody else tried to stop them as they crossed in front of the bar towards a small door in the back of the room. Conversation slowly resumed as soon as it was clear that the confrontation was over, but if anyone was talking about Orion Black and his son, they were wise enough to say it quietly enough that Orion himself couldn't overhear them.
Orion, who seemed completely unfazed by the incident, walked into the back room of the pub as if he owned it, and his son quickened his steps to follow after him.
"That was quite a commotion," Sirius heard as he approached the doorway, but he didn't recognize the voice.
His father responded, "Yes, well, if you had not insisted that we meet here…"
"I wouldn't have insisted that we meet here if you had not insisted that we couldn't meet in Muggle London," replied the second man just as Sirius entered the room and realized who he was.
Alphard Black looked more like his sister than like any of the other men in the family. Of course, Walburga was a very attractive woman, and the resemblance worked to Alphard's advantage. His jawline was narrower and his nose a bit more upturned than Sirius's or Orion's or his own brother's, but the biggest similarities between him and his sister were in their dark curls and even darker eyes.
Those eyes stayed trained on Sirius as he closed the door at his father's request and crossed the room to take a seat at the large table.
Finally, the man leaned back precariously in his chair and said, "Hello, nephew."
Sirius couldn't imagine why his father was bringing him to a meeting with his uncle, or why his father was even meeting with his uncle in the first place. The last time he'd seen Alphard had been at Bellatrix's wedding, and he couldn't even remember the last time before that. Of course, he understood better now why his uncle probably wanted to avoid family functions, since the family members who knew of his homosexuality despised him for it, and it must be really uncomfortable to have those who didn't know (like Grandmother Irma) constantly try to set him up with marriageable women.
For a few terrible moments, Sirius thought that maybe this meeting was because his father knew. Did Sirius have some sort of sign on his forehead that made it clear that he'd been having just as many dreams lately about Rabastan naked as he had about Janice naked? Was his father kicking him out, like Rabastan's had done, and making him go live with his gay uncle?
He looked between his father and uncle with wide, frightened eyes and failed to respond to the greeting.
"What's wrong with the boy?" Alphard demanded of Orion.
"I've no idea." Orion turned to pin him with a questioning look. "Son?"
Sirius looked up and quite accidentally met his uncle's eyes as an image of Rabastan danced in front of his mind's eye and he remembered every detail of his friend's slick tongue and strong arms and sweat-damp hair. The memories made him flush with arousal and not a little embarrassment even at the best of times. Now, with his uncle's eyes boring into his, he felt as if his thoughts were exposed to the world and any hint of arousal was swamped by sick embarrassment.
"Erm, noth—nothing!" Sirius finally managed to reply. "Hello, Uncle Alphard."
Both men stared at him with curiosity and disbelief as he smoothed his expression and took his seat. Finally, Orion seemed to decide that he'd better just get to the point.
"Your uncle has agreed to help you train with Dolohov behind your grandfather's back."
Sirius's mouth fell open. "Why?"
It wasn't that he was ungrateful. He just couldn't image why on earth his father would have intentionally disobeyed Arcturus like this, or why his uncle would have agreed to go along with it. He'd never known Orion to so directly go against his father's wishes, and he'd never known Alphard to have anything in particular to do with his nephews.
"Why not?" returned Alphard. His tone made him seem amused, playful even, but his expression was serious bordering on stern. "You are my nephew, and Antonin spoke highly of you. And it isn't as if I owe any allegiance to Arcturus."
Growing up the eldest son of a wealthy, pure bloodline meant that generally Sirius had never learned the lesson that if something sounds too good to be true then it probably is. He'd always been able to get pretty much anything he'd ever desired, no matter how outlandish it seemed. The only times he'd ever been denied anything major were when he hadn't ended up in Slytherin and when Arcturus had taken away his dueling instructor.
Accordingly, after just this briefest of assurances, he completely accepted his good luck and didn't question what this might cost him and his father in the future. He smiled brilliantly at the two men, his entire expression more joyous than it had been in a long time.
Orion smiled back, clearly unable to maintain his usual serious expression in the face of his son's happiness.
"But this must be strictly secret," he warned after a few moments, when he'd managed to regain some of his composure. "If your grandfather gets wind of this, there's no guessing how serious the consequences will be."
Sirius could guess how serious they'd be, so he had to agree with his father.
"I know. But how?"
The heavy wooden legs of his chair clattered loudly against the uneven stone floor when Alphard let himself fall forward. He poured himself several fingers of whisky and then poured some for Orion as well, sliding it across the small table to him.
Alphard leaned back again in his chair and tossed back the whisky in one go.
Orion took a sip of his whisky, clearly taking time to savor the taste before answering. "We'll have to find excuses to get you out of the house as often as possible. Of course, there is simply no way that you'll be able to manage three days a week every week, or even any sort of set schedule at all."
"That's all right," interjected Sirius. "Anything is better than not seeing Dolohov at all."
Uncle Alphard's thin lips twisted into a small smile at that, but he didn't seem to have anything to contribute.
Orion's bark-like laugh filled the cramped space. "I'm glad you're so excited, seeing how much we are both risking for this."
It occurred to Sirius that he ought to be curious exactly why his father was willing to risk it just so that his son could have dueling lessons. But his eyes slid back over to his uncle, who was still scrutinizing him with that same surprised, stern gaze, and he figured that this was neither the time nor the place to ask his father to answer that question.
"Quidditch practice," Sirius said into the silence that had settled over the cramped stone room, part of a plan already half formed in his mind. "James takes Quidditch more seriously than anybody I've ever met, and he's determined to be Seeker next year and to be named captain. If I were to suggest that we practice over the summer, I know that he'd immediately set up a schedule. For, say, two afternoons a week…"
"And we'd tell your mother and grandfather that it's four days a week," filled in his father, a smile tugging at the corners of his thin lips.
Sirius smiled back. "Exactly. Plus if either of them ever wants to verify it, we can just make sure that they visit on days when we're actually practicing."
"In all lies there is wheat among the chaff," said Alphard with a wry grin cutting across his serious mien. "Are you sure the boy isn't in Slytherin?"
"It amazes me as much as it does you," replied Orion with another laugh.
Probably even a year ago Sirius would have read some sort of censure or disappointment into his father's words, but now he only smiled back.
The deep red gemstone eyes of his ring glinted in the candlelight, as if the golden, roaring lion were daring anybody to question Sirius's status as a Gryffindor. It was in stark contrast to the silver-colored snakes he could see coiled around his father's and uncle's fingers, but it no longer bothered him nearly as much as it had in the past.
After all, there was nothing that said Gryffindors couldn't be sly and cunning, even if bravery happened to be a more dominant personality trait.
Sirius himself had thus far managed to walk the tightrope between his friends like Potter and his friends like the Lestranges with what he thought was a fair amount of success. He'd managed to keep his girlfriend a secret from all of his family except his father, whom he'd told on purpose, and now he was doing a pretty good job of keeping his relationship with Rabastan a secret from his family and his friends and his girlfriend.
And now he was conspiring to lie to his family in order to disobey his grandfather's express instructions. If he hadn't been there when he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, he probably wouldn't quite believe it himself!
"Yes, well," Alphard cut into his musings, "now is as good a time as any."
The front legs of his chair clattered against the stone again as he let himself fall forward, then scraped quite noisily along floor when he pushed back from the table and stood to his full height—perhaps as tall as Arcturus, but not as tall as Orion, and with a significantly narrower frame than either of them.
Sirius opened his mouth to say something—what exactly he hadn't figured out yet—but Orion beat him to it.
"His mother expects him home for lunch."
Alphard waved his hand dismissively. "So he ran into some of his friends in Diagon Alley and you allowed him to spend the rest of the afternoon with them. A boy needs some freedom from his mother, after all."
It was as good a plan as any, and Sirius couldn't deny that he was dying to start dueling again. Right away sounded good to him. He had his wand tucked into the sheath strapped to his forearm (and his spare wand strapped into a new sheath on his opposite arm, just in case), and he really didn't need anything else.
He stood to follow his uncle with a lot of excitement and only a little trepidation. He knew from the indulgent look on Orion's face that his father wasn't going to deny him; it was the same expression his father always wore before Sirius got a new treat or just one more toy than he'd been promised or a smile instead of a punishment when he'd pulled some prank against his brother.
Sirius offered his father another smile. "I wouldn't tell Mother that last part, though."
"Certainly not!" answered Orion over his brother-in-law's loud laughter.

It turned out that Alphard lived in Muggle London quite near the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius had never really thought about where his mostly absent uncle lived, if not with his parents and not at any of the family homes Sirius knew about, but it still startled him to learn that it was in Muggle London of all places.
"We can take a cab or the underground, or we can Apparate," his uncle informed him once they'd left the safety of the Leaky Cauldron and joined the crowd of Muggles on the sidewalk outside. "Or we could always walk. It's only just over a mile."
The summer heat was oppressive even though Sirius had stripped off his wizard robes before leaving the pub, and he turned a baleful look on Alphard for that last suggestion.
Alphard laughed, just once, as he stepped out of the way of a Muggle woman pushing a baby carriage with one hand and trying to keep hold of a young child with the other.
Sirius felt indescribably uncomfortable to be left standing alone in the middle of the sidewalk as Muggles rushed past him on all sides, so he followed the older man into the shadow of an awning, where Alphard was standing against the brick wall and patting his own pockets in search of something.
Walking was out of the question. Apparating would be easiest, but Sirius did hate Side-Along Apparition with a passion, and he didn't want his first impression on Dolohov after such a long separation to be him hurling all over the man's shoes when they landed. Sirius wasn't particularly keen on riding in a Muggle automobile, but he could admit that he was curious from the books he'd been reading while waiting for Janice in the Muggle Studies section of the library. And he had no idea what the underground was supposed to be, but it didn't sound promising and he had no desire to find out.
"I think a cab," he finally answered.
A Muggle man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase jostled him then and didn't even stop to apologize, and Sirius glared after him with an expression that could only have been learnt from being as privileged and spoilt as he was.
Alphard smiled again as he finally removed a small silver box from his pocket, but he didn't comment.
Sirius watched curiously as he flipped part of the box open and held it up to his mouth, where a small tube that looked like a rolled up bit of parchment was dangling from between his lips. The flame appeared almost like magic, although Sirius could see that his uncle wasn't holding a wand, and then a sharp, acrid smell wafted over to Sirius along with the puff of smoke Alphard exhaled out his nostrils.
"You've never ridden in a car, have you?" asked Alphard.
It was a silly question, in Sirius's opinion. When would he have ever had a reason to ride in a car? He was surprised that his uncle had even offered.
"I am as pure-blooded as any of you," continued Alphard as Sirius followed him to the curb and watched him raise his arm up above his head to signal the passing cars, "but the Muggles do have some wonderful indulgences."
If Alphard was referring to the awful thing he was puffing on, then Sirius would have to disagree that it was wonderful in any way at all.
However, the next few minutes that he spent crowded into the backseat of the Muggle car were something like wonderful. Sirius was fascinated by the mechanics of the whole thing, which he had read about in his books but had never thought he'd ever see in person. He leaned forward so that he could peer over the front seat and watch the driver's feet and hands maneuver the vehicle down the busy London streets.
Soon, though, he found himself distracted by the people and the shops they were passing. There were so many different kinds of cars along the streets that Sirius could hardly believe that Muggles would need so many options. Since he was used to the relatively limited number of shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, he was absolutely floored by the sheer number of shops in Muggle London and the astounding selection of wares they offered. Furthermore, the Muggles in the cars and the shops and on the sidewalk were dressed in such a variety of different types of clothing that Sirius was sure he'd be overwhelmed if he had that many to choose between.
The cab finally came to a smooth stop in front of a large redbrick house with white friezes at every story and black wrought iron along the balconies. Alphard unfolded himself gracefully out of the car and onto the street, crushing the remains of his smoking parchment beneath his foot as he went, and Sirius followed somewhat reluctantly.
"Have you ever ridden a motorbike?" he asked his uncle as he trotted after him up the small staircase towards the front door of one of the houses.
Alphard paused as he was fitting his key into the door (very similar to a Gringotts key, Sirius noticed, and assumed that his uncle had goblin-made security measures) and turned his head to face his nephew with a surprised expression on his face.
"A motorbike? Why would I have?"
Sirius shrugged and, suddenly embarrassed, turned to study the molding around the door. "No reason, I suppose. I just thought that if you ride in cars then you might have ridden a motorbike."
Alphard made a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "I think that only a certain type of Muggle tends to ride motorbikes, and I certainly do not qualify."
He pushed the heavy door open then and ushered Sirius into a narrow entryway. But no sooner had they entered than he was walking briskly down the hallway, so Sirius rushed after him and didn't have time to take in the interior of his uncle's house beyond a few brief glimpses into open doorways. His uncle led him into a study, which was roomier than Orion's study at Grimmauld Place, and closed the door behind them.
"Have a seat, Sirius."
Sirius watched in confusion as Alphard took a seat on the small settee sitting along one wall and gestured for Sirius to take one of the chairs across from him.
"I thought I was coming to see Dolohov," he said, letting just a bit of indignation creep into his voice.
"And perhaps you will, later," came the calm response. "First I think we need to have a chat just between us."
Sirius pressed his lips together reflexively in annoyance. He couldn't imagine what on earth his uncle, who had barely spoken to him at all in his entire life, would suddenly have to say to him in private.
He demanded, "About what?"
Alphard frowned at him, whether at the tone Sirius had taken with him or at the reluctance to cooperate, or both, Sirius couldn't have said. Then his face lightened dramatically all of a sudden, as if he had just realized how difficult the situation was going to be for his nephew. Sirius was even more wary of the pitying look than he was of his uncle's anger. Anger he could handle; pity he could not.
Finally, Alphard quietly said, "About the Lestrange boy."
He didn't have to elaborate. Sirius knew immediately what he meant, and it felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him and his stomach had plummeted a mile beneath the surface of the earth, while the rest of his body got left behind in his uncle's study in Muggle London. He hadn't realized that he'd nearly fallen over until he felt one of his uncle's arms wrap firmly around his back to hold him steady.
"How… How do you… How?" spluttered Sirius. His voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears, but he was past caring.
Alphard led him the few steps to the chairs he'd offered earlier and unceremoniously dropped his nephew onto one.
"Calm down," he ordered. His tone was firm but not harsh, and he pressed a glass into one of Sirius's clammy hands. "Sip that. Your mind is incredibly open, Sirius, and you were thinking rather colorfully about him."
"You read my mind?" Sirius demanded. Sirius ignored the glass in his hand and turned to level an impressive, hurt glare at his uncle. How was he supposed to calm down! He didn't want to calm down! "How dare you!"
Alphard rose back to his full height then and towered over Sirius in a way that would have been menacing if Sirius hadn't been so angry and panicked already that he was beyond the ability to be menaced.
"Your father asked me to risk my reputation and possibly my very place in our family by bringing you into my home, to meet with my—" he began, but just as he had built up a good head of steam he stopped suddenly and seemed to deflate all at once.
He took a deep breath and a step backwards so that he could sink down onto the settee again and look his nephew levelly in the eyes. He began again much more calmly.
"I knew that if I agreed to this, then you could do immeasurable damage to my life just by opening your mouth. I am ashamed to say that I hardly know you at all, even if you are my nephew, and I was not willing to put my own neck on the line without taking a little peak first."
Sirius clenched his jaw unhappily. Nothing his uncle said would really be able to make up for the enormous violation of using Legilimency against him, but he could understand why Alphard had done it. He finally brought the tumbler of whisky to his lips and took a sip, more to give himself something to do than anything. Eventually, he gathered what remained of his courage—He was a Gryffindor, after all!—and met his uncle's eyes.
"I bet you saw more than you were expecting, then."
Alphard laughed, but it wasn't cruel or mocking at all.
The stifling tension that had filled the room began to ease, and he replied, "Well, I suppose it's what I get for eavesdropping, as it were."
He downed his own whisky in one go again, like he had earlier in Knockturn Alley, and Sirius wondered if he was a habitual drinker or if he was just particularly stressed out by the goings on of the day.
"Look, Sirius, you don't have to worry that I'm going to tell anybody or hold it over your head," he finally began again as he magically sent his and Sirius's (still half full) tumbler back to the sideboard behind his desk. "I am gay, too."
"I'm not gay," replied Sirius at once. It sounded too defensive to his own ears, and he winced a bit and tried again. "I mean, it's fine with me that you are. I already knew you were anyway, even before Rabastan and I—well, just before. But I like girls, too. I have a girlfriend and everything, and I like kissing her."
Alphard's black eyes studied him intensely, but Sirius avoided making direct eye contact. He didn't trust the older man not to invade his mind again.
Finally, his uncle seemed to determine that his relationship with his nephew was too new for him to go prying into the details of Sirius's love life, and he settled for asking, "How did you know about me?"
Sirius winced again at the memory of his grandfather's hateful words and of his own father's mocking reply. "Grandfather Arcturus spent all last summer going on about every blemish on the bloodline of my mother's side of the family, after Andromeda. He mentioned you once or twice."
Alphard's laugh was a humorless, chilling thing. "Yes, I shouldn't be surprised. It seems that everybody in our family knows except for my own parents."
Sirius didn't have anything to add to that—he didn't think there was anything he could add to it—so he stayed silent and watched his uncle tensely tap out an erratic beat with his fingers against the arm of the settee.
After perhaps half a minute in silence, Alphard declared, "Well, that is why you are lucky that I discovered this about you now. Arcturus may do many things, but he wouldn't violate your mind when you're so young, unless there was a life or death situation." Sirius refrained from asking what that made Alphard, if he was willing to do something so heinous to his own nephew that even Arcturus wouldn't do. "However, after your OWLs he will undoubtedly begin to train you in Occlumency, because you can't begin to take on any of the more colorful aspects of our family's affairs if anybody could gain access to your mind. You wouldn't have wanted him to be the one to see your memories of the Lestrange boy."
Sirius couldn't deny that. It had never occurred to him before to worry that anybody in his family might pluck his secrets right out of his head, because that was one line that even the Blacks did not cross without good reason. It was horrifying to realize that in a few short years his grandfather (and his father, for that matter, and maybe even his mother) would have seen his memories anyway in the process of teaching him to shield his mind.
He eyed his uncle speculatively. "Are you saying that you'll help me?"
"Yes, I am. I will teach you Occlumency. You will be here anyway, when you meet with Antonin, and it shouldn't be too much trouble for you to stay another hour or two."
"Thank you," Sirius replied with complete sincerity and not a little gratitude.
He mentally added another thing to the long list of Slytherin-worthy deceptions he was engaged in at present.
"There's no point starting now," said Alphard. He turned to his side and ran his fingers along the spines of several books in the inbuilt floor-to-ceiling bookcase, and when he found the one he was looking for he plucked it from the shelf and tossed it to Sirius. "You can read that before your next visit. It explains all of the basics. But now I think we ought to invite in Antonin. He's been listening at the door for a while now."
Sirius blushed bright red, first with anger at having been eavesdropped on and then with embarrassment at what Dolohov must have heard. He turned in his chair in time to see the cherry oak door swing open and reveal his dueling instructor's dark, glowering face.
"I do not listen in at doors," he growled quite convincingly. His gruff voice was even deeper and more authoritative than Sirius remembered.
Alphard didn't seem particularly worried. He smiled another full smile and waved his hand dismissively.
"You are the worst liar I've ever met, and the biggest gossip. Now stop dawdling and come in so you can tell Sirius that you don't mind at all about anything you heard."
Dolohov frowned and stalked into the room. Sirius thought that he was going to pull out his wand and curse Uncle Alphard into next week, which is what he had always thought Dolohov was likely to do to anybody who disrespected him so enormously. Then Dolohov leaned down and roughly seized one of Alphard's arms, and Sirius thought for a moment that his dueling instructor might punch his uncle or something equally as Muggle. He only had a few seconds to wonder at how out of character that seemed before he realized that all of his preconceptions would have to be thrown out immediately.
Alphard craned his neck to look Dolohov straight in the face, and Dolohov leaned forward menacingly, and then their mouths met in a violent kiss and Sirius's mouth dropped open in wonder and shock.
Sure he had kissed Rabastan and let the other boy's tongue explore his mouth just as thoroughly as Dolohov seemed to be exploring Alphard's, but it was one thing to do it and quite another to watch somebody else do it.
And it was Dolohov! Sirius supposed that it seemed very silly, now that he was thinking about it, to have imagined that all men who were interested in other men, besides Rabastan and himself, were somehow not as strong or masculine as other men. He hadn't even really consciously thought of it that way, but now that he was faced with the truth about Dolohov, of all people, he realized that he'd been subconsciously buying into the hateful, bigoted things his grandfather had said.
It was Dolohov who pulled back from the kiss, although he kept his hand resting on Alphard's shoulder. It seemed more an affectionate gesture now than the violent gesture it had seemed to be earlier.
"Does that answer your questions?" he demanded. The rasp in his voice was even stronger now than usual, and he was still staring down at his lover, but the question was unmistakably aimed at Sirius.
It occurred to Sirius to simply say yes, but instead he chirped, "Well, now I've thought of a few more you can probably answer."
Alphard's startled laugh in that moment resembled Orion's bark-like laughter.
Dolohov turned to look at Sirius with raised eyebrows, and his expression was as unclouded as Sirius had ever seen it in all the time they'd spent together. The burly man turned back to glance at Alphard.
"His smart mouth reminds me of yours."
"Is that why you like him so much?" returned Alphard immediately.
Dolohov scowled in a way that probably frightened most people. "Don't go telling the little brat I like him! I've been working for a year and a half to break him of that cockiness of his."
Sirius would have been offended, except that he fancied that he could now read the glint of humor in the intimidating man's eyes. He supposed it only made sense that watching a guy make out with your uncle right in front of you would have the effect of making him seem more human.
He grinned. "It's too late anyway. Rabastan already told me that you must like me if you haven't refused to teach me by now."
Dolohov rolled his eyes as he headed for the door, motioning for Sirius to come with him, and Sirius couldn't tell if it was real annoyance or only mock annoyance.
"That boy is almost more trouble than he's worth," said Dolohov as they exited Alphard's study and headed towards the back of the house. When Dolohov looked back and judged that Alphard wasn't following and that they were far enough away not to be overheard, he added, "I suppose that you are what inspired him to kill that tramp in Knockturn Alley."
Sirius felt his face redden again. "He was already plenty inspired to kill without my help."
"But he did kill her to protect you," insisted Dolohov, firmly but not exactly unkindly.
"To protect us," Sirius emphasized. "He can't exactly afford for the world to know about him either."
He was quite sure that Rabastan hadn't told the man that they easily could have avoided having to kill the woman at all, if they had simply chosen not to snog in that particular alleyway, so he decided not to mention it either. Undoubtedly Dolohov was under the impression that the woman had happened upon the scene in the middle of things.
Dolohov grunted noncommittally and turned to push open a pair of large double doors, so Sirius assumed that the topic was closed.
He followed his dueling instructor into an empty ballroom. It was much smaller and less elaborate that the one at Grandfather Pollux's manor, but it was certainly large enough for their purposes. Sirius's excitement grew with every passing moment as he watched Dolohov divest himself of his cumbersome robes until he was standing, like Sirius was, in only his trousers and shirt.
The instructor crossed to the other side of the room and spun to face his pupil with his wand already trained on him. "Now, let's see how much ground we have to make up."
Without any more warning than that, a bright purple jet of light streaked towards Sirius at full speed. A year ago he probably wouldn't have reacted in time to dodge it, but now he deftly spun out of the way, feeling the sleeve of his shirt get singed but no contact against his skin. He quickly shot his own curse at Dolohov even as he was judging the best way to avoid the man's second curse, which was already halfway to him.
Sirius lasted for several minutes before he was finally brought down by a particularly nasty Stinging Jinx that made his hand swell up so terribly that he dropped his wand. He thought about pulling out his spare wand, but he wasn't sure he wanted to reveal yet another of his secrets today. No, he'd much rather bask in Dolohov's tutelage for a while before he pulled out all of the stops.
"You're even quicker than I remember," commented his instructor.
Sirius felt his ego swell up even larger than his afflicted hand, but he knew that Dolohov didn't appreciate such things so he refrained from agreeing. Instead he smiled gratefully and said, "It's the Quidditch, I think, and the calisthenics."
Dolohov gave him a befuddled look. "The what?"
"Calisthenics," explained Sirius. "It's this Muggle thing that our Quidditch captain made us do, all these stretches and exercises that are supposed to make you stronger and improve your balance and agility."
The Death Eater still looked dubious about it, but eventually he nodded his acceptance and allowed, "Hmm, well, I guess I can't argue with the results."

The summer continued with sweltering heat broken up only by the frequent rain. James had taken to the suggestion that they have summer Quidditch practice like a Niffler to gold. The unfavorable weather didn't stop him at all; he said that getting a bit damp couldn't dampen his spirits. Sirius thought that saying they got a bit damp was an enormous understatement, but he needed the Quidditch practices to continue so he didn't complain.
His grandfather was apparently unhappy that Sirius had chosen to spend his time with James Potter and dedicate it all to Quidditch, rather than to spend his time with his family and dedicate it all to furthering his lessons. Sirius did spend some time at home, of course, and much of it was spent holed up in his father's study so that he could be taught this or that, but he mostly spend his time either with James or with Uncle Alphard and Dolohov.
Walburga did nothing to hide her hurt and anger over the fact that Sirius wasn't spending as much time with her anymore, but Orion gently (and frequently) reminded her that teenagers all went through phases where they didn't want to spend time with their parents. Regulus was quite happy to fill the gap, and as a result his and Sirius's relationship was vastly improved over the summers when Sirius had soaked up the lion's share of their family's attentions and Regulus had been insanely jealous.
Still, both Arcturus and Walburga were extremely displeased when Sirius announced his intention to sleep over for an entire weekend at the Potters' home in Godric Hollow.
"Absolutely not! I forbid it!" declared his mother over breakfast. She did not bother to regulate the volume of her voice, and Sirius, who was sitting right next to her, winced at her loud screech. "You already spend four days a week with that—that—boy!"
Sirius straightened his posture and steeled himself for the ensuing confrontation, but before he could reply his grandfather broke in.
"I agree with your mother. There is no possible reason for you to see your friend for an entire weekend when you already spend so much time with him."
Sirius's narrowed eyes were the only visible sign of his displeasure. He continued to calmly spoon eggs onto his plate and said, "All of the boys in my year will be there. I have worked so hard for them to accept me as one of their own, and I would hate to be left out of whatever it is that they do together at sleepovers."
"It is expected nowadays for children to spend the night at one another's houses," Orion added helpfully as he added sugar to his tea. "We mustn't cause Sirius to be ostracized from his group, especially now that Narcissa and her friends have left Hogwarts."
His grandfather remained unhappy but was convinced—after all, he'd been the one to tell Sirius three years ago that he ought to do whatever was needed to establish himself as a part of the Gryffindors.
Walburga remained unhappy and completely unconvinced, but she was overruled.
Sirius trudged down the stairs after breakfast with his Nimbus slung over his shoulder, but it was all for looks since he didn't really expect that they'd get any flying done. He'd Flooed back and forth so many times over the summer that he thought he had probably been quite cured of his difficulties with it. Today he stepped out of the Potters' fireplace with hardly any stumbling at all.
"Good morning, dear," greeted Dorea Potter.
The Potters' house was comfortable and very well-furnished but not any larger than it needed to be to house three people. There was only one room that served as both the formal drawing room and the family's living room. Whenever Sirius arrived, James's mother was usually sitting in the most comfortable chair with a book or her knitting.
He didn't react when she drew her wand and pointed it directly at him, although the first time she'd done it he had very nearly drawn his wand back on her. He was glad he hadn't, though, because she only intended to use a mild Cleaning Charm to remove the ashes from his person.
"Good morning, Mrs. Potter," he replied. "How is the project coming?"
She frowned and shook her head in exasperation. "Terribly! I'm afraid I know that my knitting skills are not up the task, but I refuse to admit any such thing to Bathilda Bagshot after I went on so about being able to handle it."
Sirius laughed and opened his mouth to ask after Professor Bagshot. He had grown quite fond of her during the brief times they'd met when she had been visiting Dorea at the same time he was visiting James. He thought that it was really quite a shame that she had retired from teaching, nigh on a hundred years ago, because she had probably been a much better History of Magic professor than Binns was, even before he'd died.
Then, without warning, Sirius's breath was knocked out of him with an "Ooomph!" when something careened into him hard from behind.
"Oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter, rising from her seat and coming to stand over the two boys sprawled in a heap on her hearth. "Are you all right?"
Sirius impatiently shoved at Peter. "Get off!"
By the time they had straightened themselves out and were standing on their feet, Peter was still blushing furiously. If Sirius hadn't been so cross with him, he would have felt bad for his friend for having made such a first impression with Mrs. Potter.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Potter!" Peter squeaked in embarrassment as she took out her wand to set to rights the fireplace pokers and table that they'd sent askew in their fall.
She laughed good-naturedly. "Oh, it's no trouble, dear! But I've heard such stories that I can't tell from this incident whether you're Peter or Remus."
Remus and his friends had to spread the various stories of his extreme clumsiness in order to protect him from anybody finding out that all of his injuries were self-inflicted on full moons. Peter was quite clumsy with his spell work, though, which had some disastrous but quite funny effects in class. Sirius supposed that James had told his mother about some of them.
"Oh!" exclaimed Peter, blushing even deeper as he held out his hand. "I'm Peter. Er, Pettigrew."
"Remus can't make it until the day after tomorrow," Sirius informed her.
Actually there was no reason he couldn't have made it today, but Sirius and James had deliberately told him that the sleepover didn't start until the day after tomorrow.
James chose that moment to stride into the drawing room. His hair was as messy always and he had chosen a t-shirt rather than the more formal shirts Sirius and Peter were wearing, and he was carrying a scone in one hand and a muffin in the other.
"There you are!" he cried around a mouthful of one of his baked goods. "I was waiting for you!"
"I can see that you were on pins and needles," Sirius told him drily.
But Mrs. Potter put her hands on her hips and gave him what James called 'the look.' "James Potter!"
Sirius had learned over the course of the summer that "James Potter!" was a kind of shorthand for "James Potter, I have taught you better than to do this-or-that!" There was no need for her to elaborate about what exactly she had taught him better than to do in this case.
James swallowed down what he was chewing and dutifully said, "Sorry, Mum."
After saying goodbye to Mrs. Potter, the boys made a detour to the kitchen for more food before heading outside to the enormous treehouse in the Potters' backyard. It had belonged to James's father before him, and he had assured Sirius that it was the best place for them to brew their potion. He had double and triple checked that his parents didn't have any sort of monitoring charms on the structure, and he insisted that neither of his parents had climbed up into it since James had been barely more than a toddler and had needed help.
The treehouse was barely more than a platform with walls, but it was huge and clean and out of sight of the adults. James had moved the enormous cushions and various pieces of secondhand furniture out of the way and set up a large cauldron in the center of the space.
Peter eyed the cauldron as if something was liable to jump out of it at any moment. "What's that for?"
Sirius couldn't blame him for his suspicion. Things were rarely innocent or benign when James and he were involved. He saw that James was about to make a smartass remark and shot him a quelling look from behind Peter and over his head.
"It's what I said I would tell you about later, remember?" he filled in instead. "We've managed to gather everything we need now, so it's safe to tell you about it."
James gave Sirius a surprised and censorious look at the news that he'd told Peter anything at all about it beforehand.
"Yes, well," he said finally, "Sirius says that if we've got a potion to brew then we need you."
Sirius had told him that Peter was consistently third in their class in Potions, but James's impression of Peter from classes involving wand work was so strong that he still didn't seem to be totally on board with Sirius's claims. Sirius rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment before making his way across the space to snag the book that he and James had left there earlier. He tossed it to Peter.
"Look at the bookmarked page."
Peter looked as if Sirius had given him another ticket to a league final, and Sirius felt momentary guilty at having excluded Peter from their plans for so long. After all, Peter might not be Sirius's closest friend, but Sirius knew that he was Peter's closest friend. He had been there when nobody else had been, and he still was in some ways, especially in potions. Sirius knew that he really ought to treat the other boy better than he did.
Peter's eyebrows rose further up his forehead the further he read. Finally, after several minutes of studying the ingredients list and instructions, he lifted his gaze to look at Sirius, totally ignoring James.
"What in Merlin's name is this? I know that Bicorn horns are used in potions that change the appearance, like the Polyjuice Potion, but I've never heard of a potion that uses the blood."
"The Animagus Potion," answered Sirius quietly but surely.
Peter gaped at him for a moment, then turned to look at James as if he might be able to detect some deception on the other boy's face if he couldn't on Sirius's. When it became clear that both of them seemed perfectly serious, he incredulously echoed, "The Animagus Potion?"
"Yeah," responded James impatiently. "We're gonna become Animagi so that we can stay with Remus during the full moons."
If it were possible, Peter looked even more shocked than before. He stared at James as if he'd sprouted a couple of Bicorn horns himself, then he looked to Sirius. Whether he was seeking a denial or a confirmation Sirius couldn't have guessed.
"We know it's a longshot, but we figure why not try," he explained. He gave Peter a significant look to tell him that he didn't want him to argue with Potter on this one.
Peter looked at him searchingly for a few moments. Eventually he asked, "You've already got the ingredients?"
"Yes," replied James.
"All of them?" Peter pressed doubtfully.
Sirius shrugged. "Yes, all of them. You're better off not knowing how. That's why I didn't want to include you earlier."
The break in at the apothecary in Hogsmeade had made the papers, and Sirius watched ruefully as several different reactions flitted across his friend's face as he put the pieces together. Fortunately, Peter knew enough to know that he really was better off not knowing for sure, so he didn't ask his friends to confirm or deny their involvement.
"I know you can do it, Peter," Sirius cajoled him, sensing that his friend only needed a little push in the right direction to agree to the whole scheme. "We might not be able to get the transfiguration part down, but I know that you can brew the potion."
James looked severely insulted at the implication that Peter was more advanced in Potions than James was in Transfigurations, but Sirius gave him a significant glare and he snapped his mouth closed without actually voicing his opinion aloud.
After a few moments, Peter took a deep breath and said determinedly, "I can do it."
Sirius felt a lot of the time like he was more a referee than a friend.

Towards the end of summer, Grandfather Arcturus summoned Sirius to the unused drawing room previously used for his lessons with Dolohov to meet his new dueling instructor. He was a tall, emaciated-looking man with short robes and an even shorter wand, and Sirius hated him immediately. Even his secret lessons with Dolohov couldn't quell his anger at the presence of this new man, because he was surer than ever that his grandfather had made an enormous and biased mistake in dismissing Dolohov in the first place.
"Friedrich Braun is the best dueling instructor in Germany," his grandfather informed him.
Sirius offered a smile that toed the line between polite and cruelly dismissive. "Oh, really? And how do you stack up against Antonin Dolohov? He was my previous instructor."
The pleasant smile remained plastered to Braun's face. "I assure you that vot I haff to teach you vill be just as good as—"
"Mal sehen, Herr Braun," interrupted Sirius coolly, the nasty tone of his voice clearly indicating how well he thought this new man would do.
The man appeared surprised and affronted at his pupil's attitude. The smile slid off his face, and he looked suddenly like he'd sucked on a lemon.
Arcturus looked as if he wanted nothing more than to take out his wand and give Sirius a good hexing. Instead, he said in a tight voice, "Braun is here to evaluate you, Sirius, to see if he will agree to be your instructor. He usually only takes pupils in fifth year and above, but when he learned that you had already been trained by Mr. Dolohov, he agreed to give you a chance."
"Well then, why don't we get right to it?" suggested Sirius.
He drew his blackthorn wand and executed a mocking bow.
Although he still appeared quite taken aback, Braun agreed and quickly performed his own niceties, while Sirius's grandfather went to stand stiffly on the opposite side of the room to observe.
"First position!" the instructor barked suddenly. Sirius remained immobile, only blinking at the man in confusion. Braun tapped his wand against his palm authoritatively. "I said assume the first position, Black!"
Sirius raised an eyebrow and shot his grandfather a glance full of every bit of annoyance he felt before turning back to his would-be dueling master.
"What the fuck is the first position?"
"Vot do you mean vot is the first postion?" demanded Braun, shock coloring his voice and deepening his accent even further. "Vot has Dolohov been teaching you?"
"Dueling," replied Sirius at once.
Braun let his wand fall limply to his side and spun to face Arcturus. "I thought you said that he is experienced! He has not been taught anything at—"
With a thunderous expression that was at odds with the barest whisper of his voice, Sirius cut him off with a vicious, "Confringo Maxima."
Predictably, Dolohov's common-sense insistence that he not let his opponents hear what he was casting, even if he couldn't yet cast nonverbally, was right on the mark. The ball of pale blue light streaked across the enclosed space so quickly that Braun barely had barely noticed it before it hit him. His hastily cast Shield Charm was only halfway up and he only managed to leap partially out of the way when Sirius's curse crashed into his rudimentary protection with a loud bang and broke apart. Part of it hit Braun in the side and the rest of it ricocheted into the couch on the other side of the room, reducing a large chunk of it to bits.
The instructor hit the floor with a scream, his mangled right arm lying at a disgusting angle next to him as he used his left hand to clutch at his bleeding ribcage.
Arcturus was across the room in seconds, his pale face even whiter than usual.
"Don't move!" he ordered harshly, using a hand on Braun's good shoulder to force him down flat to the floor. He swiveled his head around to glare at Sirius. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"
Sirius looked down at him defiantly from his place still standing on the other side of the room.
"I was thinking that Dolohov would have been able to deflect that easily."
Arcturus closed his eyes and visibly took a breath, but before he could respond, the doorway was filled with people who had come to investigate the screaming.
Sirius crossed over to the remaining half of the couch and sank down into the sagging cushion, glancing curiously over the tattered fluff and bent springs of the other half.
There was pandemonium as his father and Uncle Ignatius, who was visiting with Aunt Lucretia for a short holiday from his job at the French Ministry, entered the room and crowded around Braun, quickly followed by his mother and aunt, who crowded around Sirius and clucked over him as if he were the one who were injured.
Through it all, Sirius sat calmly and quietly, absentmindedly twirling his wand in his fingers and watching the proceedings impassively. It was really less frightening that when he'd watched Rabastan cast the Killing Curse, he thought. There hadn't been any sickening glow or feeling of panic, and he was too angry at this imposter of a dueling instructor to really feel sorry for him, whereas he'd felt sorry for the witch who hadn't done anything wrong except be in the wrong alley at the wrong time.
"My darling, what happened?" cooed his mother as she brushed his slightly disheveled hair out of his face and tried to cajole him into coming to her embrace.
A sudden silence fell over the other side of the room, and Sirius was vaguely aware of his mother's arms tightening around him and his aunt sucking in a sickening breath.
His father was the first to rise from his knees. He stared for a moment his bloodstained hands before a quick spell put them to rights, then he turned to stare at Sirius with eyes full of a depth of emotion that Sirius had never witnessed in them before.
"He's dead," Uncle Ignatius announced quite needlessly. Over his wife's gasp, he announced, "We have to contact the Ministry."
Orion stiffened and turned his piercing gaze on his brother-in-law. Arcturus, who was kneeling with his head bowed over the broken body of his erstwhile dueling instructor, didn't respond.
Ignatius pressed, "Arcturus, did you hear? We have to contact them immediately! You're a member of the Wizengamot; you know what has to be done."
"Absolutely not!" Orion declared so forcefully that he surprised everybody in the room. "The Ministry are not coming within a hundred miles of this!"
His brother-in-law stared at him in scandalized surprise for several heartbeats before he managed to respond. "Of course they must! A man is dead!"
Orion raised his wand and pointed it deliberately right between Ignatius's eyes, his own gaze as cold as ice.
"And Sirius killed him. So no, you aren't involving them."
"It was just a dueling accident, wasn't it?" asked Uncle Ignatius, although even he sounded unsure. He glanced briefly at Sirius before turning back to Orion, his hands outspread and his voice full of everything reasonable. "And he's only a minor. I'm sure this will all be over and done with before summer's done. Arcturus!"
Sirius, who felt mostly numb to the goings on generally, was kind of convinced that he'd broken his grandfather somehow. The man hadn't moved at all in ages.
"Father!" called Orion in a loud, authoritative voice.
Finally, slowly, Arcturus raised his eyes from Braun's body and looked up at his son and son-in-law. "Yes," he croaked. He swallowed as he rose to his feet and then he tried again. "Yes, Orion. Do it."
"Do what?!" exclaimed Ignatius, taking a step backwards from his brother-in-law's wand at the same time that Aunt Lucretia rose to her feet with a cry.
"He's my husband! I can't let you!"
Arcturus didn't appear to have anything to say to that. Orion didn't even bother to glance at her, but his icy voice was more than enough to get his point across. "If you try to stop me then I will do the same to you."
She gasped and raised her hand to her throat. Sirius was inexplicably reminded of that day, which seemed so long ago now, when Rabastan had rendered his sister momentarily speechless on the train. Now, as then, the effects didn't last very long.
"I'm your sister!" cried Lucretia in a voice that had gone all high and screechy.
"HE'S MY SON!" roared Orion, finally losing his ice-cold demeanor.
Sirius could barely breathe now, his mother's arms were wound so tight around him.
"Lucretia," she said beseechingly. "Lucretia, please."
His aunt's shoulders hunched just the slightest amount, and she lowered her head. "Fine. Fine… do it. But you had better not take any more than strictly necessary, Orion, and you can't make me stand here and watch it."
"Do what?!" demanded Ignatius, but he couldn't make any moves with Orion's wand and full attention trained directly on him. "Lucretia, do what?! Lucretia!"
But his wife didn't look back as she walked stiffly out of the room and shut the door behind her. Her brother did have the grace to wait until his sister was out of the room before he muttered, "Obliviate. Stupefy."
Ignatius collapsed onto the floor a few feet away from the cooling body of Friedrich Braun.
The four living and conscious occupants of the upstairs drawing room were silent for what could have been half a minute or half an hour.
In this quiet contemplation, Sirius knew that he really ought to feel guilt or remorse or something about what he'd done and what he'd caused, but he found that he simply couldn't muster up any such emotions. He thought briefly about the boy he'd been when he'd walked in on Rabastan practicing the Unforgivable Curses, months and life-changing experiences ago now. Would that Sirius have felt something different?
Right now all he could feel was that it would have been much less messy if he'd just been able to use the Killing Curse, like Rabastan had on that homeless witch. There hadn't been any drawn out death or blood or struggle when she'd died; she'd just toppled over backwards and been dead.
Finally, Arcturus seemed to gather himself sufficiently to return to some semblance of control over the situation. He spoke with the assurance of someone who had been in just this sort of situation before.
"He came to Grimmauld Place and conducted a perfectly normal lesson, and then he left. We have no idea what happened to him after that. He might have been waylaid here in England or back in Germany, or he might have simply never made it back to Germany at all. After all, I told him that he ought to apply for a Portkey or permission to use the Floo internationally, but he insisted on Apparating. Orion, you will dispose of the body. I will implant a false memory in Ignatius's mind corroborating our story and determine whether I ought to do the same to Lucretia."
"Fine," replied his son, "but are you proposing that we simply wait until somebody contacts us and asks?"
Arcturus shot him a disapproving look. "If nobody has reported him missing before when the next lesson was supposed to have been, then I will go through every reasonable means to contact him and, finding myself unable to locate him, will inform the German Ministry that I am worried he is missing."
He strode out of the room without looking at his grandson, Ignatius Prewett's inert body trailing behind him.
Orion crossed the room and knelt down in front of Sirius, who was still sitting calmly on the sofa. Their eyes met and Sirius didn't see disapproval or disappointment there, only fear and a deep determination. His father put his large hand on Sirius's knee and squeezed it comfortingly.
"Nobody will find out about this. I won't let anything happen to you."
"Of course you won't!" cried Walburga. She rested her cheek against her son's hair and squeezed her arms ever tighter around him.
Even a year ago Sirius probably would have killed anyone if it meant his mother would show him such affection, but now he really had killed someone and he wanted no part of her embrace. He sat stiff and immobile in her arms and watched with calculating gray eyes as his father transfigured the body into something small enough that he couldn't tell what it was from this far away.

Author's Notes: I have been using SnitchSeeker's map of Knockturn Alley from their Diagon Alley RPG. The Gleaming Gytrash and Moribund's Pub are both their inventions.
"In all lies there is wheat among the chaff" is a quotation from Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Chapter 11. I don't think that either Sirius or Orion knew it was a quotation, but Alphard apparently has some interest in Muggle literature.
The Leaky Cauldron is on Charring Cross Road; in the movie it's right next to number 48, so I've gone ahead and used that. This is in the Covent Garden area of London. Alphard lives in Mayfair.
The Black family tree as we know it says that Pollux was born in 1912 and his younger sister Dorea in 1920. However, that makes no sense, because it would mean that Pollux was only thirteen when his oldest child Walburga was born. Therefore, I've kicked Pollux and Dorea's birthdates back by ten years to be more in line with Arcturus's (1901), so Pollux was born in 1902 and Dorea in 1910. This also means that their father's birthdate has to be pushed back by ten years, but that's totally doable without changing anything else since there is a twelve-year cushion between him and his older brother, and it isn't like they matter for our story here.
"Mal sehen, Herr Braun" translates as something like "We'll see, Mr. Braun."
- 10
- 11
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The Other Side: Thick and Thin (Book 1)