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Old Friend	By : Prosperosdaughter Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her associates own Harry Potter. I make no money from my stories.

Chapter List
- 2
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- 4
Disclaimer: The Potterverse is owned by JKR.

Wandsong and Idris Lydiard are all mine.

A/N: To those not reading You Will Not Kiss Me, this chapter takes place in the month before the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

Chapter 3: Restoration

Alphard and Idris Apparated just outside a forest clearing. The mountainside was rugged and beautiful. Alphard thought he remembered it from all those years ago, but really – how could he? Unless perhaps it was a pack he had visited – and they had lied to him. It was possible. He released Idris's arm and walked alongside him.

The large man said nothing. His face was set. Alphard felt the thrum of old magic nearby. Idris stopped.

"Beyond is the pack's encampment, Alf."

Alphard understood then that he could feel the protective wards of the encampment.

"You've probably not seen its like before." A faint look of worry flitted across Idris's features, but he chased it away. It was only right he gave Alphard fair warning. The settlement had been rudimentary before. Now, the pack was enlarging with Remus Lupin's refugees, it really was a sight (and a smell) to behold! "Originally, the pack just lived in the roundhouse that you'll see. More werewolves have joined us over the past few months. I'm part of Albus Dumbledore's resistance plans – his beacon of the Light, he calls it. A pack that accepts werewolves not wanting the Dark path." He searched Alphard's face for traces of concern, regret or indecision, but saw none. "Come then."

Alphard had no concerns, although he was intrigued. He'd have time enough to ask Idris more about Dumbledore and his plans and why he needed the werewolves. He'd been out of Britain for so long, he knew nothing of its politics anymore.

He certainly had neither regret nor indecision. He didn't expect anything to be poetic or romantic about a werewolf pack; after all, he'd visited many, many packs over these past years when he'd looked for Idris and he knew how squalid and violent they could be. But just to be here, with Idris – nothing would fill him greater happiness than he was feeling at this moment.

Idris took Alphard's upper arm and together they passed through the enchantments.

The enchantments had hidden a huge temporary encampment. Wizard tents of varying sizes surrounded the ancient roundhouse. To Alphard's estimate, there must have been thirty tents. Since they undoubtedly were enlarged by extension charms, there was no telling how many werewolves were inside them. But outside, people milled around, speaking in twos or groups and here and there people were practising duelling or charms. Small fires, contained by magical braziers, dotted the scene, cauldrons suspended above them with either food cooking or potions brewing. Alphard could only quickly glance and take in the contents with a practised eye as they passed through. He watched the smoke coil upwards to be dissipated into invisibility as the protective enchantment Vanished it.

Idris strode confidently through it all, nodding to those who acknowledged him first. Alphard walked tall next to him, impervious to the insolent and resentful stares of so many indigent and poverty-stricken werewolves. He knew it wasn't merely his clothes. Had he thought, he should have transfigured them into something dull and ordinary. But, ultimately it was himself that was scorned and derided: he was a wizard. Each and every werewolf would know by his scent. He wasn't scared or even concerned, except for what those gathered might think of Idris.

Idris saw the baleful and hostile looks thrown at Alphard. He watched Alphard's insouciance in the face of it. Idris let it pass – for now. Idris had no Claim on Alphard to enforce with this pack or the satellite packs that were gathering. Be that as it may, if one Were set just one foot out of line with Alphard, Idris would make that werewolf very sorry indeed.

They navigated through the makeshift camp and the many tiers of tents and Alphard caught his first proper sight of the mediaeval roundhouse and the werewolves congregating around it. These werewolves weren't hostile – these were clearly Idris's own pack as all looked up to greet Idris with smiles.

"Idris!" said a black haired, brown eyed woman, her eyes crinkling in a warm smile as she pressed her hand to Idris's arm and looked questioningly at Alphard. He saw a flicker of confusion, undoubtedly at his rich clothing, so very out of place.

"Angharad. My wife," Idris said, his voice warm. Both men noticed a small dart of Angharad's eyes to Idris to be so described. "This, Angharad, is Alf, my old friend."

If Angharad knew who Alphard was, or rather had been, to her husband, Alphard could not detect it. She pressed her hands to his with another warm smile.

"Well met, Alf," she said and led him to the communal fire to share food and drink with him as the Alpha's guest.

Idris saw, however, the small flare of her nostrils that would tell her the men had touched, however briefly, in a kiss and that would smell their chemistry.

Alphard wouldn't realise, but he would come to understand, if – if – he stayed, that Angharad was Idris's mate, the pack mother. For Idris to take another step with Alphard, it must be here and with Angharad's consent. He could never put her away from him, never shame her to the pack. He watched her now, kind and gentle, tend to her hearth guest and he watched Alphard attend her as if she were a lady of distinction. It made him smile.

He felt his chest clench. Could it happen for him? If Alphard were not too repulsed by what he saw and heard in the coming time - could he take this mate? This mate who should have been his so very long ago.

They had planned to be each other's first – each other's only – love.

/

It was the day before Christmas Eve. Idris had smuggled Alphard into his boarding house lodgings as Madame Bowen had gone to visit her sister for Christmas. Alphard had told Idris he had his father's permission to explore Muggle London and could stay out until late. He hadn't anything of the sort, but he couldn't go for the whole of the Christmas holiday without seeing Idris – he just couldn't. It probably meant time in the attic but it would be worth it to be with Idris – a whole day to themselves – no school – no work – indoors. With a bed.

Alphard had brought a basket of bread, cold cuts, pickles and ginger beer that he had pilfered from the pantry for their lunch. Looking longingly at the bed, Alphard actually laid their picnic on the floor. They ate and talked and laughed over what they had done since school had broken up, as their hands and fingers played with each other's hair and hands, both suddenly overcome with crippling shyness that drew fierce blushes from both of them with each touch.

Alphard knew it was his fault. He always blushed so fiercely. He didn't think he ever had before he and Idris had ... had what? Become lovers, his mind supplied. Lovers? He blushed even at his own thoughts. But oh! All he knew was his body felt these feelings and urges and they became stronger and stronger all the time. There wasn't one part of Idris he didn't want to know and touch. He thought of Idris all the time, and some of his thoughts were so lewd, they almost scared him; almost, but not quite. And the more he thought of Idris, the hotter his body would become and desire would settle like a dense fog in his head too. It was the utter consumption by his desire that embarrassed him for he was sure Idris was far more in control than he.

It may well have been true that Idris was more controlled, but he felt just as passionately as Alphard. And Alphard's blushes made him so much more attractive. Whenever he blushed, Idris would colour too, partly because he worried that he pushed Alphard too quickly but partly in his own embarrassment that he was so overwhelmed by his feelings for the other boy. It seemed to him that the further they went to please each other in ways to love each other, the more defenceless they became with each other until ... well, Idris thought he blushed because Alphard held his soul when he held Idris in his arms. Idris was not ashamed. Not one bit of it.

So thinking, he steeled his resolve. When would they have another chance like this? To be naked in bed together? As soon as he thought it, the strength of his body's reaction startled him: his erection grew quickly and painfully, his groin burned as strong thrills shot to it, his skin tingled all over and the sides of his face heated. He wanted this so badly. He was sure Alphard did too.

"Alf?" Idris murmured, his eyes wanted to drop to the floor, but no – holding his friend's beautiful grey eyes with his own dark brown ones. He picked up Alphard's hands in his own. "Please come to bed with me." Alphard blushed and bit his bottom lip. Idris thought it was beautiful.

"Should we?" Alphard gasped. "Will we be able to stop from ... you know?"

"We promised ourselves, Alf. Not yet. I wouldn't do that to you, and you wouldn't to me. We promised," Idris said gently. He knew he wouldn't push it, not when there was so much at stake. "But I'd very much like to be in a bed with you when we touch." There, he'd said it. It made such an odd squirming feeling in his stomach to say things so baldly.

Alphard listened to Idris as he spoke. He thought Idris's voice was becoming deeper. Even his voice could thrill him to the core. Dear Merlin, he was so in love, it hurt him physically, but he was afraid he would lose control. It was himself he was afraid of; not Idris. To be in bed with Idris, and no clothes – no barrier to stop themselves. How would they? He found he could barely swallow he was so entranced by the idea of the whole of Idris's body under his hands.

He couldn't speak. But he could show Idris. He got onto his knees and leant forward and kissed Idris as softly and as passionately as he could, with the palms of his hands resting on Idris's shoulders. And as their tongues wrapped around each other slowly, Alphard smoothed his hands along Idris's robe to his collar and carefully and slowly he began to unclasp his friend ... his lover's robe working as competently as his slightly trembling hands would allow. When Idris's robe was undone fully, Idris then undid Alphard's and pushed it from Alphard's shoulders so he was kneeling now just in his trousers. Alphard leant forward and pushed Idris's robes from his. Both of them stood and undid the other's ties on their trousers, but each smoothed their own trousers down and off.

The stood before each other, each greedily taking in the sight of the other, unobstructed for the first time. Neither could speak, even to be embarrassed. Idris stepped forward, and gently placed his hands on Alphard's shoulders and drew him into a kiss. Alphard's hands found his hips (perfect and wonderful bones under his skin!) and pulled him so their hips and erections touched. Both gasped and kissed harder, as Idris ran his hands down Alphard's back and cupped his lovely, narrow backside and squeezed. Even that was almost too much and they had to stop and calm themselves. Then, on an unspoken cue, they ran their hands over all of each other, just to feel each other's skin unhindered, kissing all the while.

It was Idris who broke the kiss, and led Alphard to his small bed and they lay down together. Idris pressed Alphard flat to the bed, and knelt next to him, his eyes heavy lidded with want at Alphard's body before him.

Idris lay next to him, and kissed him deeply and his hand held Alphard's pelvis as he began to trail gentle kisses around Alphard's neck, making his skin tingle and Alphard moan softly. Idris continued kissing Alphard's chest, lightly grazing his nipple with his teeth, encouraged by Alphard's sighs and his hands starting to card his hair urgently. He continued his voyage of discovery with his tongue and lips, down Alphard's breastbone and down his midriff, listening to Alphard's breath become more and more irregular and feeling Alphard tense and gently writhe under him. It was a remarkable sensation to have all of Alphard under his hands. It turned him on as much as if he were being touched himself and as he approached Alphard's cock with his mouth, his own excitement was almost unbearable.

"Oh Idris," Alphard gasped. "What are you doing?" Alphard thought his own voice sounded unattractively high. But the sensations were so strong, he thought he would lose control - like an animal – and then what would Idris think of him?

"I want to, Alf. I really want to. What we read in that book."

Alphard ran his hands through Idris's wonderful thick hair feverishly, even as his body squirmed uncontrollably as Idris looked up at Alphard only tantalising inches away from Alphard's cock.

"But ... but ..." Alphard stuttered, "that book said it was deviant ... it was corrupt! I can't let you do that!"

"Oh Alf," Idris smiled, pulling himself up Alphard's body, feathering it with light kisses as his head drew level with Alphard's. "That book says everything we do ... because we're men ... is deviant. Even kissing." He kissed Alphard hard. "I really want to – I want to taste all of you," Idris murmured and he began to trace small kisses down Alphard's neck once more and circled his tongue at the base of Alphard's neck. A small moan escaped from him and his body began to writhe gently once more.

Even Idris's murmur was seductive. Alphard could never understand how Idris could be so sure of what he wanted, so able to say whatever he wanted when he, Alphard, invariably blushed every time he tried. But this! As Idris trailed his fingers up and down Alphard's body and his exquisite kisses down his sternum and gently flicked his tongue around Alphard's navel, Alphard thought he would melt – that his body would dissolve because of the intense heat in his core and groin. Unaware of what he was doing as he held on to Idris's hair, he sighed Idris's name like a prayer, like a mantra to hold on to his sanity as Idris's wonderful soft lips found the tip of his erection.

He uttered a small cry. He had never felt anything like it. Indescribable in its intensity, as Idris's tongue gently played on the tip, each touch making Alphard's breath hitch as Idris drew his tongue down and up the underside. Alphard tried to watch, but with that his eyes rolled back in his head and he cried out hoarsely as Idris's tongue travelled deliciously back up his shaft. It was beyond anything he had thought he could feel. But then, he felt Idris's mouth close over his cock and inch by inch, he took Alphard in his mouth, moist and hot. Alphard cried out as he felt his mind start to unravel and his back arched violently. He didn't know – how could he? – that a body could feel this.

Idris had wanted to taste Alphard – all of him – and as soon as he had started to touch Alphard's cock with his mouth, he was glad that he had. Alphard's taste and smell was Alphard intensified. It was delicious to him, and making Alphard moan and writhe was almost more than Idris's own body could bear. He watched Alphard through his eyelashes – how his body glistened with a sheen of perspiration, how his rib cage projected as he arched, how his Adam's apple became more prominent as he threw his head back to cry out in delirium. How Alphard's hands grasped at his hair more and more feverishly and how he was murmuring Idris's name and not even knowing he was doing it.

He moved his own head faster now, realising the noises he was making were really quite loud, but he didn't care, not with Alphard now almost thrashing on the bed. It was beautiful and Idris himself writhed against the bed, his own cock painfully hard, and his balls hurting, but no matter. He wanted this. He wanted to see Alphard come like this – so beautifully abandoned. He could feel the change in Alphard's cock, the tightening of his balls, the straining in Alphard's pelvis. In that split second, Idris decided not to move away. He wanted to taste all of him.

Alphard could only just think through his fug of utter ecstasy has he came hard into Idris's throat. He wanted to say no, not to follow through, but Idris held onto his hips hard, and as Alphard came, more fiercely than he thought possible, he roared from the base of his throat. He could not help himself. It was searing white hot bliss Alphard never knew was possible.

And as the intensity began to ebb, Alphard felt his body start to tremble from the exertion and tears welled in his eyes. He didn't know why but he was grateful when his lover wrapped his strong arms around him tightly, helping him to calm from such a sublime feeling that was surely not meant for such a man as he.

/

Idris remembered now with piercing clarity as he regarded Alphard's profile talking with Angharad, how young Alphard had curled tightly into Idris's body, spent but so ecstatic, a slight tremble playing over his body and how he, Idris, had wrapped his arms around Alphard, so vulnerable but his to protect, as he kissed the crown of his head that lay on his chest, his black hair spread across him. They had spent that entire day in bed, exploring each other, making each other beautiful.

A beautiful memory. A perfect remembrance. One he had not thought of for these many decades past.

It had been their last time together before ... before Riddle had tricked him. He pushed that away. Not now. Not now. He stood and watched these two most precious people: his past and his present. He kept his outward appearance calm, but his heart hammered at the possibility – a possibility that yesterday had not even existed. Could they be his future?

His reverie was shattered by a riot of guffaws, laughter and shouting off to his left. He swiftly turned to the commotion. Gareth, one of his twin sons led eight werewolves to him. These must be the ones Remus Lupin had told him of. He frowned. He didn't think he had ever seen such a motley crew, especially for a crew so small. What was the boy thinking?

They each wore Muggle clothes, with vests emblazoned with the legend, "The Whitby Werewolves". No robes at all. What the hell was this? They had clearly recently duelled from the looks of some of their injuries. They looked around themselves, bewildered.

"Which of you is," Idris took a deep breath, controlling a sinking feeling, "Dollop?" He thought he could guess, and indeed a large man of dull aspect lumbered forward with his hand half-raised. He did not speak but he looked scared – scared like a child. Idris frowned.

"What is your new nickname?" Idris said, as gently as possible.

"Wallop!" the man said brightly, as if pleased he knew the answer.

"Who gave you that name?" Idris asked.

"Set Moe!" he said proudly. Idris nodded and gave the man a small smile to reassure him.

"Well done. Go with this woman," Idris said and indicated Angharad. "She'll look after you."

If the big man had reservations, they were lost in the instant Angharad took Wallop's hand to lead him to the fire to sit with her. Idris saw the man's expression change from fear to wonder. A man-boy. A damaged child grown into a man. He had seen more than he cared for – boys and girls hurt so badly, whether by physical or magical brutality, because they were werewolves, they were never right afterwards. His jaw worked at the thought. He inhaled deeply and faced the small group once more.

"Name's Idris," Idris announced, looking at each man in turn. "Alpha of this pack. Who's your leader?"

"Yo, Idris!" a voice called. From the back of the small group, a man swaggered to the fore and Idris raised his eyebrows in surprise at what he saw.

The man was stocky, with long blonde hair, and wearing an over-large trench coat with the collar raised over his Muggle vest with words. He stank of some herb – a dreaming herb, if Idris was not mistaken. This werewolf was no Alpha. There was no Alpha in this small pack at all. The blonde man came forward further to speak.

"I'm Conway," he said, trying to look imposing, but paling into mediocrity before Idris's commanding presence. Idris didn't sneer; he didn't need to. Conway visibly deflated and within a minute his stance was almost meek. He coughed. "This is Jethro, Zebedee, David, Spindle, Freddie and Pisser."

Each man muttered a small greeting.

"You," Idris said, looking at Pisser, a malformed, spiteful-looking man. "What is your real name?"

"I've been Pisser since I was a child. I like it!" the man said, defiantly, but Idris smelt his fear.

"Well, I don't," Idris snapped. "It's a child's insult. What is your given name?"

"I was Botolph ... before ..." Suddenly, the man voice stopped as if the memory itself lodged in his throat and he looked around himself fearfully, as if he suddenly realised where he was and who he was with.

"Botolph is a good name. It is your name here," Idris said with finality. The group seemed to shuffle their feet. "I need to tell Remus Lupin you are safe then find you somewhere to sleep."

"Expecto Patronum!"

The large silver Alpha wolf burst from Idris's wand, alert and ready.

"Hoc nuntius to Remus Lupin of the Order of the Phoenix." He looked at the strange group before him: men but not manly, werewolves who proclaimed their otherness on Muggle vests, men who said 'Yo', men who let themselves be called after animal waste, a pack with no Alpha. A muscle twitched under his eye. He really had only one thing to say to Remus Lupin.

"Are you kiddin' me, boy?" Idris rumbled, and sent his Patronus away with the message.

He turned back to the small group to start to talk to them but a brown haired young man, the one who answered to David, was staring at Alphard by the fire with his mouth agape.

"What is it, boy?" Idris scowled.

"Is that man," David stammered, "I mean – I suppose he can't be, or I'd have heard. But – is that man related to Sirius Black?"

Alphard's head shot up and his eyes went wide and, on the instant, he leapt up, grabbed a fistful of the young man's T-shirt and held him at wandpoint to the heart as he jutted his face down into the young man's face.

"My nephew is a Death Eater!" Alphard spat, feeling rage swell within him. His nephew was on the run. If this boy knew him then his boy must be a Death Eater too. "What do you know of him?"

"Nephew? No! No! You're wrong – not a Death Eater," David whimpered, his face covered in confusion as his hands scrabbled at the hand holding his T-shirt. "But please!" He looked around him wildly, fear oozing from every pore so that all the werewolves around stopped and stared. "Please. Can we speak alone?" he pleaded.

Idris grabbed Alphard's wrist and lowered it forcefully.

"Hear the boy out. Remus Lupin sent him," Idris said carefully and reasonably.

Idris got his oldest sons, Geraint and Gareth, to find a tent for the remaining six and then led David and Alphard, still shaking with anger, beyond the clearing and drew privacy wards around the three of them.

Stumbling over his words, David explained that Sirius Black was in the Order of the Phoenix. He was innocent but unable to prove his innocence as the true culprit had returned to the service of You-Know-Who. He believed it because his own mate was an Auror and she herself had recruited David to the Order of the Phoenix. All he could do was ask Albus Dumbledore to confirm it. He was the leader of the Order.

Alphard listened, breathing hard. Dare he believe two miracles in as many days? Was that even possible? And if it were true? Suddenly his vision narrowed almost to blackness. If it were true: what kind of an uncle was he to have left his nephew languishing in Azkaban? His chest constricted painfully.

David sent his own Patronus to Dumbledore asking him to contact Alphard himself.

Alphard was shaken. His whole world, turned so violently on itself so many times before, was turning again, and he could barely catch his breath. He listened as if outside of himself as David told Idris he would be leaving to return to London to his own mate. No, he wasn't a member of the Whitby Werewolves. He had joined with Remus Lupin and had agreed to see these werewolves to Idris. It was time for him to go home, in time to take his Wolfsbane, before the full moon. The young man left and Alphard suddenly found his knees weak, and he leant against the nearest tree. Idris grabbed his shoulder carefully.

"If it's true ... All these years – if it's true?" Alphard's head seemed to suddenly expand with horror and his skin prickled with shame. "What if I left my boy, and he was innocent!" he said, dropping his head into his hands.

"Be still, Alf. Wait till you hear from Dumbledore." Idris squeezed Alphard's shoulder. Alphard looked into Idris's eyes – those dark, deep eyes and found comfort in them.

"Come back to the fire. Speak with Angharad while I speak some more to these newcomers."

IL~AB~ IL~AB~ IL~AB

Alphard sat with Angharad and listened and watched as Angharad coaxed the large, slow man to tell her his story, such as it was. It was a pitiful story of a boy bitten young whose parents had little wits of their own. When his first transformation had come, they had beaten him so badly in an effort to contain the wolf that his wits were never quite right after that. Angharad had managed to discover that his name was Stacy and he was embarrassed because it was "a girly name".

Alphard interjected softly. "If I may, it's not necessarily a girl's name. It comes from Eustace. It means fruitful."

"So, you see," Angharad said encouragingly, "it's a fine name. Much better than Dollop." The large man looked at her as if she were an angel and nodded happily. He was Stacy once more.

Idris and his two eldest sons returned to the campfire and one took Stacy to be with his friends and Idris went to sit with Angharad and Alphard. He knew Angharad was curious, as surely as he knew Alphard would let Idris steer their course and that he trusted Idris as completely as he had when they were fifteen. The certainty of it lifted his heart and fortified him to try to find a way.

Then with a streak of white magic that was almost like lightning, a parchment wrapped with a phoenix feather drifted into to Alphard's hands. Idris and Angharad's eyes became wide, but both Idris and Alphard recognised the parchment and handwriting. So, their mysterious correspondent was Albus Dumbledore. With trembling hands and a worried look at Idris, Alphard opened the folded the sheets of parchment, recognised the charm that required him to cast his wand for the parchment to recognise him and he read.

He read the story of his nephew's rashness on the discovery of the murderous betrayal of his friends; of his nephew's innocence of murder, Muggle or wizard; of his nephew's ill-considered words on his arrest that sounded like confession; of his escape from Azkaban in the form of an animagus dog; of his failed attempt at retribution; of his flight from Hogwarts and return from abroad to protect his godson: the boy who lived, Harry Potter. Alphard drank it all in – his heart fluttering uncomfortably. If Dumbledore known where Alphard could be found in Spain to put him in touch with Idris, why hadn't he contacted him before? Was this some kind of game? Alphard could have helped. He could have sought justice, he bemoaned.

"Never mind that now," Idris growled, when Alphard railed in his disbelief. "Deal with what you have now. You need to go and see your nephew. What's to be done?"

"I'll write to Dumbledore. He says to charm this feather and it will find him."

"It's the full moon in five days. You can't be here unprotected. Would be a good time to suggest," offered Idris.

IL~AB~ IL~AB~ IL~AB

Idris had procured Alphard a small tent and Alphard had spent these few days talking to Idris and Angharad both. He walked occasionally on his own with Idris, but they did not kiss or touch. Alphard thought he understood. Idris was introducing Alphard to his mate by degrees. He was Alpha and could take a second mate – hell, he could take as many as he liked, but Idris wouldn't just foist them all into such a situation.

It was the oddest sensation to sleep on a ground sheet in a warded tent, under the stars, with only the clothes he stood in as his possessions. He already knew he would love to have Idris sleep alongside him, but Idris slept in the roundhouse with his wife. At this time, Alphard didn't care. If he understood Idris rightly, it would take time. Time to rebuild their own relationship, if they could. And if they could, to build the trust that Angharad would need. Time to acclimatise the pack to a wizard in their ranks. He had waited all these years – time, unless Death claimed him, he had in abundance.

IL~AB~ IL~AB~ IL~AB

Of course, Alphard knew the address. He grew up in this very house – this house with an attic room. But until he read this parchment, he could not recall it. Fidelius, he realised. He read:

The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix and the home of your nephew is number twelve, Grimmauld Place, West London.

It sent a shiver through him and he looked up to see his hated childhood home expand into view. Why? Why on earth would Sirius choose to be in there? In the parchment, Dumbledore had told him that Sirius would be at home and he had arranged that no-one would disturb them on this night of the full moon. Sirius did not know Alphard was coming, just that he was to expect a visitor.

As Alphard ascended the stone steps, he reflected as he trod that Idris would be changed and running with the moon. He reached the top step and turned to look at the moon.

No longer would he look to it and mourn his loss. He knew where his love was now under this moon. What would happen from now on, Alphard was unsure. But it was no longer the uncertainty of loss, but that excitement of a hope regained.

He turned back to the black lacquered door and was assailed with a different excitement – a nervous excitement that might see the return of a family. His mouth went dry as he opened the door. He walked through the hall. How had it become so decrepit? It was as if no-one had walked this hall for one hundred years. He looked at the portraits of his ancestors. A few of them stared wide-eyed with shock and grumbled at him, but one by one, they turned their backs on him, renouncing him as he had renounced them. He smiled with grim satisfaction and strode with resolution to the kitchen where his unspoken revealing charm told him his nephew waited.

He reached the kitchen door, tried to calm his hammering heart, and opened the door to see a man sitting at the kitchen table.

It was he. Older. Oh, so much older than he should look.

The boy stood. The man. Sirius stood so quickly, his chair fell back and clattered on the floor.

"Alphard?" Sirius said hoarsely, his eyes, a mirror of Alphard's own, suddenly wide with shock. "Uncle? But ... I was told ... I thought ..." His mouth opened and closed.

His nephew may have been hoarse, but Alphard could not speak at all, his throat was constricted by a large lump of emotion, his heart was full and his eyes prickled sharply with tears he did not think he could stop. He did not want to stop. He held out his arms, just has he had done when the boy – the man – was a child.

Sirius's own eyes welled, and his first steps were no more than staggers and he fell into his uncle's arms, clapping him hard on the back. Alphard heard him sniffle. He smiled once more. Walburga would have beaten him for sniffling alone. Alphard raised his eyes in grateful thanks for this embrace. It was strange how Alphard had never grieved for his sister or brother. But he had wept for Regulus and Sirius.

He and Sirius held on to each other, hardly daring to believe the truth of family regained. He stroked Sirius's hair. "Boy," he said quietly, wondering if his heart would ever calm.

Eventually, he pushed Sirius gently away to behold him. Too old – he looked too old. He supposed that prolonged exposure to Dementors had almost sucked the life from him. He held his wrists firmly and sat him on a chair.

And so they talked. They talked into the night, and through to dawn. Sirius told him everything in his own words, confirming everything Dumbledore had said in the letter. Alphard told Sirius how he had renounced the Black estate by blood ritual when he thought Sirius a murderer and lived in the Pyrenees since. Alphard talked of strategies to clear Sirius's name, becoming frustrated when Sirius told him they could not get to Pettigrew because he was firmly ensconced with Riddle.

"Is there no way you can get out of this house?" Alphard said, looking around the dismal kitchen.

"I used to be able to go for walks on a lead with Remus, but the Death Eaters know my animagus form now. It's not safe. Do you still transform?" Sirius asked.

"Oh yes. I think that's why I loved Spain so much. Up in the mountains. Somehow there was an affinity," Alphard said wistfully.

"I should say so! When we were trying for our form, I hope I'd be a dog like yours. I couldn't believe it that I could be so different!"

"Only in colour. Granted, your form is rather reminiscent of the Grim!"

"I wanted to be a white dog, like yours."

"Odd, don't you think, that my animagus form protects herds from bears and wolves?" Then Alphard smiled wickedly at Sirius. "Shall we annoy the spirit of your mother?"

Alphard changed seamlessly into the large Pyrenean Mountain Dog and Sirius followed into the black hound that tore off down the hall with the white dog in pursuit, skidding as they turned and then up the first flight of stairs - up the second - up the third -

The fourth. The dogs came to a halt, panting, and easily became men again, staring at the closed door to the attic room. They both seemed to seethe as they stared at the door, then Sirius slipped back into a dog and cocked his leg against the door.

"Ha!" Alphard barked a laugh, transformed and sped off down the stairs with the black dog at his heels skidding back into the kitchen, where they both transformed once more, Alphard more out of breath than he would wish.

Sirius flung himself into a chair and regarded his uncle seriously.

"Do you recall why I wanted to become an animagus? Why I hounded you to help me?"

"Poor pun, Sirius," Alphard chided, collecting his cloak to prepare for his return journey.

Sirius laughed. "But do you?"

"No. You just said, you had to for one of your friends. I couldn't make head nor tail of it at the time, but it was fun teaching you."

"It was for Remus, Uncle. Our werewolf friend."

"But why would that help?"

"A werewolf seeks human blood, not that of an animal. We three became animagi so we could keep Remus company at the full moon. When we were with him, he ran with us, his transformation wasn't so painful and he didn't seek prey."

"So why aren't you with him tonight?" Alphard asked.

"He takes Wolfsbane and stays with his wizard mate," Sirius said, seemingly innocently enough, but its effect on Alphard was electric as he put all the pieces of the puzzle together. Idris would never take Wolfsbane, but perhaps Alphard wouldn't have to leave at the next full moon.

"So, there was no Wolfsbane then, but, if you transformed, his wolf would not hurt you?" Alphard repeated to confirm.

"That's right. So you see: you could be with Idris. I mean, you could if you wanted." Alphard narrowed his eyes at his nephew, who clearly knew more than he ought - he wondered how much. Just what had Dumbledore told him? Or was it this werewolf, Remus?

"How does it feel – to have found him? After all these years?" Sirius pursued.

Alphard smile hugely, as a thought struck him.

"That reminds me. Does my dearest sister have a portrait?"

"Does she ever," Sirius laughed. "It's the monstrosity behind that curtain. I don't think you want to wake her. She's rather colourful in her vitriol."

"Well, it wouldn't be polite to visit without passing the time with the lady of the house, would it?" Alphard said lightly, and then raised an eye brow ironically to Sirius who seemed to relax. Alphard stood before the portrait and flicked his wand to swipe the curtain open.

"Sister dearest," he smirked.

"YOU! Vile abomination to set foot in this house! Foul invert! Unnatural filth! Bestial pervert, corrupted by half-blood filth. DISGRACE AND SMEAR ON THE NAME OF BLACK! NO BROTHER OF MINE! ABHORRENT BY-BLOW BESMIRCHING AND DEFILING THE PROUD NAME OF BLACK!"

Alphard watched the ruined features, the eyes popping and the mouth twisting viciously as the portrait screamed her malice and bile at him. Madness enshrined in magical oils.

"Oh sister dear," he sang, and slouched against the heavily gilded frame (in a way that would have infuriated his father beyond all reason, he thought with satisfaction). His face was no further than a foot away from that of his painted sister. He whispered sweetly, "I found him. I found my Idris."

He stood back and let his head fall in something like catharsis as he savoured her demented shrieking and wailing, louder and more shrill than he thought possible, his own cruel smile on his face to know he could torment her eternity with that knowledge. He raised his face, smiled crookedly at Sirius, and flicked his wand to close the curtain over her.

"Well, there's a bit of variation. I haven't heard 'by-blow' before," Sirius said. "I thought I'd heard all her invective."

"Ah. I believe that insult has always been particular to me. She certainly warms to her themes, doesn't she?" Alphard smiled at Sirius once more as he buttoned the clasp on his travelling cloak as Sirius, still beaming, followed him down the hall.

"We must set to work, Sirius, to clear your name. I may not have influence as a Black anymore, but Galleons I have in abundance. I know how to work the system. Whatever a Malfoy can buy – I can buy more!" Alphard laughed. "But no. I jest. I can gain access to some of the best legal minds, and we will do so. I'll get to work tomorrow, before I go back to Wales."

Sirius reached out and touched his uncle's arm. "You'll go back to Idris for good ... now you've found him, won't you?"

Sirius did know enough after all. Well, Alphard thought, Sirius's best friend was the same: why hide this? Times had changed.

"If I can. It's been a long time. Much has happened," Alphard confirmed quietly.

"But it's what you want?"

"Oh yes, Sirius. My whole life has been in shadow because of this. And now? Yes, it's what I want." They had reached the front door. Alphard and Sirius embraced once more, the type of bear hug in which the men of the Black family never indulged: the warm embrace of family and love.

"When I'm cleared, my godson will come and live with me," Sirius said excitedly.

"And your new lady friend, Emmeline?" Alphard asked lightly.

"Early days, uncle, early days," Sirius laughed. "But I hope I'll see more of you too."

"Of course! I never would have thought I could have so much restored to me, Sirius. I feel like a man re-born." He held Sirius at arm's length again, and then held his nephew's face in his hands, feeling no man of his age should feel so ridiculously happy, as tears pricked at his eyes once more. Sirius grinned at him, almost looking as young as he should.

Alphard grinned back. "My Gryffindor."

Next chapter: Idris's story continues.
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