Orion stumbled slightly as he arrived on the street outside Number Twelve, Grimmauld place by Apparation. He forced himself to stand firm on the pavement, his balance compromised by the weight of his unconscious eldest son in his arms.

Help had taken what felt like an age to arrive. Three hours locked inside an absurd Muggle contraption (a "freezer room", Sirius had called it) had felt more like three years to the father desperately attempting to keep his son from freezing to death by the only means possible - his heavy, fur-lined cloak and shared body warmth. But these methods could only go so far, and after such prolonged exposure to the sub-zero temperatures of the room, Sirius had made the potentially fatal mistake of succumbing to sleep, thankfully not long before help finally arrived in the form of a member of the gang of young wizards Dumbledore had jumbled together to form what he called the Order of the Phoenix.

In any other circumstances, Orion would have sniffed haughtily at the sight of the wizard - a rather tired-looking young man about the same age as his son, his robes looking very worn and sporting a more than a few patches and obvious repairs. This was clearly not a man of which Orion could possibly have any reasonable business with. On any other day, that is. On this particular day, the shabby young wizard happened to have hold of Orion's wand, as well as his son's - they must have been retrieved somewhere along the corridors of the Muggle warehouse which housed the freezer room, and in which they had fled from an oncoming charge of Death Eaters earlier that day.

"And about time too" Orion snapped impatiently as the wizard stood in the doorway of the freezer room, visibly stunned at the sight before him. In fairness, it wasn't every day you found a wizard and his son trapped inside such a ridiculous location.

With no time to waste, Orion carefully (and somewhat reluctantly) untangled Sirius's curled-up body from against his own and gently let him slide down to lay on the floor, detaching his cloak to drape over him. He sighed internally yet again at the state of the clothes his son had seen fit to wear in mid-winter - thin Muggle garments without any sort of cloak to speak of. No wonder he was near-frozen.

"Sirius?" the young wizard called, his tired-looking eyes darting between Sirius to Orion in puzzlement. "What-?"

"I don't have time for your petty questions now, boy" snapped Orion again as he marched over to the young wizard holding his wand. "My wand, if you please"

Visibly stunned by the situation he had stumbled upon, the wizard held out Orion's wand to him, which he was swiftly relieved of.

"I will take my son's wand as well" Orion outstretched his hand expectantly once again.

"Your- your son?"

The young man's eyes widened in what seemed to be a bout of sudden realisation.

"Yes" Orion snapped. "Now hurry up, boy, I don't have all day"

Orion was running out of patience. He didn't have the luxury of time to dally about here making small talk to someone who wasn't worth explaining himself to.

The wizard silently offered Sirius's wand out to him, and Orion swiftly took it and pocketed it.

With a swish of his robes, he turned and headed quickly back to his son, kneeling down onto the tiled floor to lift the sleeping Sirius up to lean against him once more.

With strength he scarcely realised he still possessed, Orion lifted his son's limp, cold body into his arms and got to his feet before drawing his wand and Apparating them both out of this most accursed room, catching the eye of the stunned-looking young wizard who had found them.

He had looked utterly baffled, and perhaps a tad put out at the lack of thanks he had received for saving them both.

And now here he stood, mere seconds later, on the pavement directly below where the front door of his house would appear at his command. The night air was cold, although certainly still a good deal warmer than the freezer room, the surrounding street deserted, as it always was at this time of the evening. The surrounding Muggles did not keep unsociable hours.

Muttering the incantation to reveal Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Orion willed the bricks to move faster as his home unveiled itself to its master. At long last, the front steps appeared, and Orion quickly climbed them, casting a wandless unlocking spell on the front door which swung open for him.

The house was unusually well-lit for the time of day. At this time, the ground floor of the house was usually deserted; the candles extinguished, the rooms silent except for the occasional scuffling of the house elf creeping about on his nightly cleaning rounds.

Tonight, however, the candles remained a-glow and the scuffling of bare elf feet was replaced by the constant, formidable clip-clop of what Orion instantly recognised as the sound of his wife's shoes as she paced up and down the length of the drawing room, impatiently awaiting his return.

Sure enough, as Orion hurried into the drawing room with Sirius still in his arms, he was met by the sight of his wife stopping, mid-pace, by the fireside; her face frantic with worry, strands of her black hair beginning to fall from it's usually immaculate styling.

Walburga's grey eyes widened further still as her face drained of colour at the sight of her husband carrying their son - the son who had stolen away from this house in the dead of night over two years ago, supposedly never to be seen again. The son who now hung limp and lifeless in his father's arms.

"Orion? What's wrong with him? Tell me!" Walburga demanded, marching over to meet her husband as he hurried in, carrying Sirius over to the sofa in the middle of the room.

Orion was silent, intent on his task. Explanations could wait. For now he needed to focus on getting the boy warmed up, and fast.

He brushed past his wife, ignoring her demands.

"Orion, tell me! What ha-"

Walburga paused mid-sentence as her hand brushed against Sirius's, arm, which hung down gracelessly from under the cloak he was wrapped in, which she now saw was Orion's own cloak.

She gasped and recoiled in shock, grasping the hand that had made contact with her son's icy skin, clutching it tight as though she'd been burned.

"Why is he so cold?" she asked, her voice a shaking whisper.

Her husband's silence as he pushed past her did nothing but ignite her panic further.

"Orion, why is he so cold? What's happened? Tell me!"

"Be quiet, woman!" Orion finally snapped as he bent down to lay Sirius on the sofa. "I will tell you in a moment"

Walburga halted in the middle of her demand, yet again, to know why her son was so cold and lifeless. Her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she felt it might burst free from within her. She tensed every muscle in her body to try and stop herself from shaking.

With Sirius finally settled on the sofa, still wrapped in his father's cloak, Orion drew his wand and silently ordered the sofa to move across the room and over to the fireside, levitating strategically so as not to scrape against the expensive hearth rug. He set the sofa as close to the fire as he could reasonably place it, placing his hand in front of Sirius to ensure he was meeting the full force of the warmth from the flames

His task complete, he then turned to his wife, still stunned into rare silence.

Walburga stood to one side of the sofa, still clutching the hand that had felt her son's coldness as though nursing a wound, her wide eyes starting, fixated on Sirius. Looking closer, Orion could see she was trembling. He felt a small stab of guilt at being so short with her.

She worried, of course she did. Any mother would.

He crossed the room to join his wife and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, willing her to stop shaking.

"There was - an altercation" he began, unsure of how best to explain the day's events.

"An altercation?" Walburga cut in, her impatience taking advantage of her husband's slow and uncertain words. "With who?"

"Followers of the Dark Lord"

Seeing the alarm in his wife's eyes threatening to flare up once more, Orion quickly continued.

"We managed to fend them off, for a time. But we found ourselves... compromised. That is- trapped, in a room"

"Trapped in a room?"

Walburga was clearly unsatisfied with this vague explanation as to how her estranged firstborn came to by laying on the drawing room sofa of the house he had abandoned, unconscious from cold, wrapped in the cloak she had pestered Orion to upgrade for the last half-decade.

"Yes" said Orion, attempting to find the words to describe the room. "It was a.. storage room of some sort. The Muggles have a way of keeping it cold, somehow. Don't ask me to explain-" he quipped, raising a hand to silence his wife as she opened her mouth, no doubt to dispute his absurd description of the room they had been trapped inside. "-because I can't. But it was freezing cold. Far too cold. And of course, the foolish whelp had thought to dress as though it were the middle of summer, rather than December"

Orion sighed and rubbed his forehead, fighting back the fatigue threatening to take hold now that the adrenaline rush of the day's events had subsided.

"I managed to keep him warm enough for a time, but it was too damned cold. We were found just in time"

"Found?" Walburga asked, her voice quiet. "By whom?"

Orion waved a hand aimlessly.

"A friend of his, I suppose. One of that gang of friends of his, I assume. It doesn't matter. But thank Merlin we got out of there when we did..."

Orion let out another weary sigh which seemed to activate some sort of instinct within his wife. Her husband had delivered their firstborn back to her, albeit in a less than ideal state, and now there was work to be done.

Walburga shook off the shock of the situation she had found herself in and regained her nerve. She marched over to where Sirius lay on the sofa by the fire, wrapped in Orion's cloak, asleep. It was a well-made and warm cloak, make no mistake, but it was not enough.

"This isn't enough" she said, her voice grim with determination. She pulled her wand from within the hidden pocket within the folds of her gown skirt and gave it a silent wave, tapping the coffee table beside her.

A large pile of thick blankets appeared, neatly folded, summoned from the airing cupboard where the house elf had stored them away.

As he watched his wife begin to unfold the first blanket and throw it over their son's sleeping form, Orion stepped closer to her, until he was stood beside her.

Walburga watched him from the side of her field of vision as she busied herself with her task.

Orion silently leaned down to grasp his wife's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Walburga froze, having been about to lean around to grab the next blanket from the pile.

The couple remained, silent, each of their gazes fixated on Sirius. The silence between them was only broken by the crackling of the firewood in the hearth.

"I must speak with Regulus" said Orion, quietly. "Is he still up?"

"I'd assume so" Walburga replied, her voice equally muted. "I doubt he'd be able to sleep after all this"

"Right" said Orion, reluctantly straightening himself up and pulling away from his wife. "I will leave Sirius to you, then"

And with that, he left the room, stealing a quick glance from the doorway back at the sight of his wife tending to the firstborn they both thought was lost to them forever.

Walburga took a deep, shuddering breath as she finished tucking a second blanket around Sirius.

Now that the shock of the situation had subsided, she was left with an empty void waiting to be filled, but with what, she just couldn't decide.

In the time since Sirius had slipped away from them in the dead of night, all thought of him had invoked feelings of anger and frustration so fiery that she tried to shut him out of her mind completely as much as she could. And at the same time, she could never quell the longing, deep down, for his return.

And now, here he was. Delivered back into her possession as easily as a parcel arriving by owl mail. And she couldn't for the life of her decide whether to be angry or overjoyed.

So instead, she chose not to feel at all, simply to focus on the task at hand. Her son was freezing cold, he needed warming up quickly.

"Kreacher!"

At her sharp command, the bat-eared house elf appeared at her side with a loud CRACK.

The loincloth-clad creature peered, wide-eyed in surprise before his gaze narrowed in a sneer at Sirius.

"Kreacher" Walburga repeated, sharply, drawing the elf's attention back at his mistress, where it belonged. "I want you to prepare some soup, now"

The elf looked as though he were bursting to enquire about what the disgraced blood traitor son of the house was doing asleep on the drawing room sofa, but alas, he would find the task of preparing the soup far harder with rapped knuckles.

"What sort, Mistress?" he asked instead, with a slight bow.

"Chicken" said Walburga. "And be sure it's good and thick"

Kreacher bowed lowly and took his leave, disappearing again with another sharp CRACK.

At the sound, Sirius flinched in his sleep and let out a slight moan.

Walburga started at the movement. He was stirring already. Thank goodness. The slumber of hypothermia was loosening it's grip on him.

And yet... She wasn't sure she wanted him to wake. Not just yet. He would likely fly into a fit of rage the second he realised where he was. And Walburga hadn't seen her son in so long... She wanted a few moments, at least, simply to take in the sight of him.

She found herself reaching out a hand to touch his face. His cool skin was definitely a tad warmer, though still too cold for her liking. With her other hand she raised her wand and tapped the pile of blankets she had tucked firmly around her son with a warming spell.

She allowed her fingers to linger on Sirius's cheek for several moments more. She could feel the slightest hint of stubble under her fingertips - not something she had felt on her son before. He looked remarkably similar to how he had when she had last seen him at sixteen, and yet he was different in so many ways.

There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked so tired, worn out, in a way that a youth of his age had no right to be. His hair was longer, a wild mane of tangled black hair just trying out to be tamed. She would see to that soon enough.

Walburga's hand stroked along his face and traced his jawline - his features had filled out slightly over the last two years. People had always remarked on how similar he looked to Orion, but now Sirius was indeed beginning to look less like the boy he had been and more like the man he was yet to become.

Two years of his life that he had cruelly snatched away from his mother.

Sirius gave another start and Walburga was jerked away from her thoughts at the sudden realisation that she was gripping her son's jaw rather tightly.

She quickly snatched her hand away from him and stood up from her kneeling position before Sirius could awaken and catch her in such a state. She conjured herself a chair beside the sofa - far more dignified.

She watched, still as stone, as Sirius began to stir awake with a moan.

Slowly, his eyes blinked open and he looked around him, clearly confused, before his gaze fell upon Walburga.

"Mum?"

The first thing Sirius was aware of was that he was cold. Uncomfortably cold, in spite of the warmth around him, as though he had just stepped inside from a raging snowstorm.

The second thing that Sirius was aware of was that he was trapped.

Sirius had always hated the feeling of bed covers tucked tightly around him. They left him feeling uncomfortably confined, akin to the feeling of being strapped down. And as he drifted out of the world of sleep, the realisation that he could scarcely move his arms and legs dragged him faster back to the world of the living than he would have liked.

There was a hand on his face, gripping his chin. He recognised that sensation. And there was only one person he associated that gesture with.

Dazed and confused, he forced his eyes open to survey the situation, blinking in the candlelit room.

As his eyes began to flicker open the hand withdrew, sharply.

His blurred vision slowly began to focus and the shapes within the room began to sharpen. His gaze darted about the room, from the ornate fireplace to the deep red velvet curtains, from the vast portraits within their golden frames to the sleek, black piano in the corner across the room.

He knew this place. He knew this place well. But he also knew that he shouldn't be here.

At last, Sirius's wandering eyes stumbled across Walburga, sat beside the sofa on which he lay, stiff as a board, her eyes drinking in the sight of him hungrily.

"Mum?" he mumbled, his voice croaky from fatigue.

His mother didn't seem to react at first. She stayed where she sat, still as a statue, her face a blank canvas, devoid of the fury that had filled it the last time Sirius had seen her.

"Hello, Sirius" she finally said a moment later. Again, her voice was unnaturally calm for the Walburga Black of Sirius's memory.

He couldn't stand this, laying here, practically swaddled in a mass of blankets. Despite the distinct chill urging him to shiver, he tried to fight his way free of the blankets and sit up.

Walburga leaned forward and pressed a hand firmly to Sirius's shoulder, stilling him.

"Be still" she said, calmly but firmly. "You need to rest"

"Why'm I here?" Sirius mumbled, his limited energy draining fast as he tried, and failed, again to sit up.

"I said, be still" Walburga repeated, more sternly this time. "You are in no fit state to move"

"M'fine" Sirius protested, jerking his shoulder free from her grasp. "Get off!" he shouted as Walburga tried to tuck back in the blankets that had been dislodged by his attempts to remove them.

"Sirius Orion Black, I have told you to stop moving" Walburga's voice was sharp and firm. "You are freezing cold and you are tired. You are in no fit state to go anywhere any time soon. Now, lie still"

At her firm command - a glimpse, finally, of the mother of his memory - Sirius reluctantly ceased his struggling. Though he would never admit it, he was indeed exhausted. His whole body ached from the cold which was finally beginning to melt away under the heat of the ridiculously warm blankets. She must have warmed them magically.

As the warmth of the bedding slowly sank beneath the surface of his skin, Sirius's fuzzy memory was beginning to clear and snapshots of the events that had led him to this most unlikely of situations flashed before him.

A warehouse. There were Death Eaters. He was in a freezer. He was cold. His father was there. His father. His father had... kept him warm, under his cloak... had held him.

"Where's Dad?"

Sirius could see his mother's jaw clench. She had never liked him using that vulgar title any more than she liked him calling her "Mum". Which was precisely why Sirius had developed the habit.

"Your father is- attending to a matter" said Walburga, plainly.

Regulus.

Sirius had long since worked out that it must have been Regulus who sent Orion to "save him". And now there was the unfinished business of his soft, obedient little brother secretly being a Death Eater to attend to. No wonder Orion was nowhere to be seen.

Sirius wasn't entirely sure if he even wanted to see his father. It was all very strange, what happened between them in the freezer. Sirius couldn't remember ever being held in such a way before by either of his parents. Hugged tightly, feeling warm and safe, loved, even...

"Kreacher!"

His mother's sharp call for the house elf snapped Sirius abruptly away from his thoughts.

Kreacher appeared at Walburga's side with a loud CRACK that made Sirius wince.

"Is the soup ready?" Walburga asked as the elf bowed in greeting, his eyes glimmering with dislike towards Sirius.

Sirius returned the favour with an equally dark glare.

"Yes, Mistress" Kreacher mumbled.

"Good" said Walburga, ignoring the obvious disdain between her son and servant. "Bring it"

With another bow, the elf was gone.

"I'm not hungry" Sirius muttered.

"Don't start this foolishness, now" Walburga replied firmly as she busied herself with smoothing her skirts.

"I said, I'm not hungry" Sirius shot back with a scowl.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Walburga raised her eyebrows questioningly.

Sirius was silent, he looked away, staring across the sofa at the cushion propped up at the far end.

"When did you last consume a proper meal, Sirius Orion?" Walburga asked again, in the tone that Sirius had learned years ago to recognise as one that demanded an answer. Ignorance would not be tolerated.

"Yesterday" Sirius muttered, unable to meet his mother's gaze.

"What time?"

"Just- lay off, alright?!" Sirius snapped back, attempting to shift himself inside the constraints of the blankets to turn away from her, and failing miserably.

"You haven't been eating properly at all, have you?" Walburga's tone was flat with obvious disapproval.

"Look, some of us are too busy doing important work to worry about other things, you know" said Sirius with a roll of his eyes. "We don't all spent our lives planning the next five-course meal. Haven't you heard there's a war on? Some of us have real work to do. Important work"

"Like walking straight into an obvious trap and having to be rescued by your father?"

His mother's remark left Sirius unable to respond. The blunt, embarrassing truth of the matter stung his pride. He tried again, in vain, to turn away from her.

"You need to eat properly, Sirius Orion. There is no more important job than taking proper care of yourself, not when you're-"

"When I'm what?" Sirius snapped, lifting his eyes to look his mother directly in the eyes at last.

Walburga stared back at her firstborn, stone-faced, her eyes cold and devoid of true feeling.

"-The what, Mother?" Sirius asked again with an accusing scowl. "The next heir? Future of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?"

Walburga was silent. The air between mother and son hung heavy and tense.

There was no right answer to Sirius's questions. But he was right to ask them. Why had Orion brought him back here, rather than simply leave him with the friend who had found them? What did they want with him?

There had been no time for such discussions. And now, still, was not the time for them.

A familiar CRACK cut through the silence like jagged glass and Kreacher appeared, holding out a tray containing a bowl of steaming hot soup.

Walburga took it from him and nodded silently, dismissing him.

The elf disappeared once more, but not without stealing one quick, disapproving glance at Sirius.

"This is not the time" Walburga said quietly, stirring the soup in her lap. "You are still far too weak for such talk"

Sirius sighed, exasperated.

"For the love of Merlin, what part of 'I'm not hungry' was so hard to understand?" he snapped, scowling at the steaming bowl.

However, as the aroma of the rich chicken soup invaded his nostrils, it was impossible to prevent his stomach from growling with desire.

His mother was right. It had indeed been a long time since he'd taken the time to eat properly.

"I find that hard to believe" said Walburga. "You've had quite an ordeal. You need to eat something warm. You're still far too cold"

"Because shoving me ridiculously close to the fire in a sodding blanket prison isn't going to warm me up at all, is it?"

Walburga sighed at her son's sarcastic tone, stirring the soup.

"I see your time away has not quelled your cheek" she said.

"Not in the slightest" Sirius replied, raising his chin in proud defiance.

Walburga could not help but smirk.

Her son may be several years more grown than when she had last seen him, but he was no less the stubborn boy who didn't know what was best for him than he had ever been.

"Thankfully I'm quite used to dealing with your dramatics whilst under the weather"

She flashed him a knowing look.

Sirius could feel his cheeks flushing against his will. He was more than certain that the absurd heat of the blazing fire was not entirely the cause.

"Alright, fine. I'll eat" he muttered with a sigh, trying once again to free himself from the blankets.

Before he could even contemplate the idea of how he was going to haul himself up, Sirius found a spoonful of soup approaching his face. He contemplated turning away from the offer of food, but the distinct ache in his tired, cold body reminded him that even if he succeeded in liberating his arms from their blanket cocoon, he would scarcely have an ounce of strength left to actually feed himself.

Horrific images of spilling hot soup over himself filled his mind. He would never live it down.

And so, somewhat reluctantly, he allowed his mother to ease the spoonful of soup into his mouth without complaint.

Walburga had to admit, she hadn't expected her son to give in to the temptation of food quite so easily. But, nevertheless, as she ladled spoonful after spoonful of hot soup into him, the sight of his body visibly becoming more relaxed from the warmth eased her own hidden nerves.

As Sirius swallowed the last of the soup, Walburga set the empty bowl aside and reached out to press a hand to his cheek.

He felt remarkably warmer than he had done originally. Thank goodness.

She resisted the urge to let her hand linger on his face, forcing herself to pull back and clasp her hands primly in her lap.

"You ought to rest" she said, staring hard at Sirius as he failed to suppress a yawn.

She was probably right. The hot food and warmth of the blankets were finally having their full effect on Sirius. The cold ache was gone, leaving only glorious warmth in its wake.

He felt exhausted. Mentally and physically. And oh so confused.

"So, what now then?" he found himself asking.

"What do you mean?" Walburga replied, forcing herself to keep his gaze.

"Well- What now?" Sirius repeated, awkwardly. "A warm-up meal and a kip and then I'll be on my way?"

"This is not the-"

"Stop saying that!" Sirius snapped. "If now isn't the time to discuss why I've been brought back to this damned house when I haven't been a part of this family for a good two years, when is?"

Walburga gritted her teeth and breathed deep and slow, forcing herself to resist the temptation to rise to the bait of an argument.

"When you have adequately rested-"

She slowly rose to her feet, smoothing down her skirts. Sirius watched his mother like a hawk, his eyes going wide-eyed when she reached for the pocket in which her wand resided.

"-then your question will be answered"

Before Sirius could open his mouth to question her riddle of an answer, Walburga took a step closer to the sofa and raised her wand over him.

"What're you- Wait, no, don't!" Sirius protested as realisation as to what she was about to do washed over him.

But, trapped securely in a nest of blankets, there was nothing he could do to stop his mother as she cast a sleeping charm over him.

He caught a second's glimpse of her ever-revealing expression before the world around him faded to black.

When Sirius next awoke, the first thing he was aware of was that he was warm. Uncomfortably warm. The sound of crackling firewood told him before he'd even opened his eyes that the fireplace was set full ablaze and unlikely to be allowed to simmer down at his own command.

The second was that he was trapped. Still trapped.

He forced his weary eyes open sooner than they'd have liked to survey his surroundings.

The drawing room that had surrounded him was gone, replaced instead by what he quickly recognised as his old bedroom on the top floor of the house.

Everything about the room was exactly the same, entirely preserved in the state it had been in on the day he had fled through the window, right down to the gaudy posters of Muggle girls plastered to the walls, intentionally put there to invoke as much shock from his parents as possible.

In hindsight, they truly were a cringe-worthy, juvenile stunt. He didn't even like the girls. He made a mental note to take them down as soon as possible.

Except, just how soon that would be possible remained to be seen.

He was covered by as many layers of blankets as he had been on the drawing room sofa, each one of them tucked so firmly into the bed that they may as well have been straps holding him down.

A notable absence was his father's cloak, which had now been removed from him and was now hanging on the coat stand by the bedroom door. Sirius wondered when (or if?) Orion would pluck up the willpower to face him in order to collect the cloak. It appeared to feel rather at home on his own coat stand.

When Sirius finally managed to pull one of his arms free from under the covers, he noticed that he was clad in a finely-tailored set of flannel winter pyjamas that he distinctly recognised as one of the sets he had left behind in his bid for freedom.

Shock washed over him and he forced himself to sit up in bed, ignoring the faint bout of dizziness that washed over him as he did so.

Suddenly, his mother's last words to him filled his mind again.

"When you have adequately rested, then your questions will be answered"

Realisation dawned on Sirius. He gulped drily.

Walburga Black had indeed made the answer to his question quite clear.

She did not intend on allowing him to leave this house again any time soon.