Walburga could scarcely remember a night that had passed slower than this one. The hours since the moment she had watched Vesta fly away into the night sky to deliver her urgent letter had ticked by at a painfully slow rate, each minute seeming to drag by slower than the last.

She had known from the moment that Sirius had uttered his half-asleep murmurings alluding to his potential innocence that she would not sleep another wink tonight. Thoughts raced through her mind at a mile a minute, her brain far too charged to possibly consider the thought of rest. As such, Walburga saw little point in remaining in her nightclothes. After a quick return to her bedroom to change into a gown far better-suited to being up and about in, she returned to the Emerald Room to resume her watch over her sleeping son.

She dismissed Kreacher from his watch duties, noting the only-too-obvious relief on the little creature's face at being released from his vigil over Sirius.

"Prepare his breakfast for seven o'clock at the earliest, but keep it warm in case he wakes later than expected" Walburga ordered as she took her usual seat beside the bed, gazing down at her sleeping son.

"Yes, Mistress" Kreacher replied in his usual, growling voice, bowing low as he shuffled backwards out through the door.

Walburga felt a tinge of relief as the door clicked shut behind him. The elf may be just that - a mere elf - but even his lowly presence was capable of becoming unwanted company. It was a relief to be left alone with her son once more.

Things hadn't quite gone to plan so far, Walburga pondered to herself as she stared down at Sirius's peaceful, sleeping face. She must have miscalculated the sleeping draught dosage - underestimated just how ready he was to wake up when she'd given him what she'd thought had been just enough to keep him asleep until morning.

She should have been here, ready and waiting when Sirius awoke for the first time, to supervise his adjustment to his newfound situation properly. That was how it should have been. Not her bursting into the room in the dead of night, still in her nightclothes, to find him stumbling about the room with all the grace of a newborn foal, in a state of panicked delirium. It was a chaotic state of affairs, a far cry from the much more carefully managed awakening she had planned for him.

But then, Walburga thought to herself drily, Sirius Orion had never been one for following the plans carefully laid out for him by others for his own good.

Walburga reached out a hand to stroke away a stray lock of hair from Sirius's face, racking her brain for any clue as to who the mysterious "Peter" might be. A school friend, perhaps? He certainly couldn't be a wizard from any family of the good sort. The name alone told her that - it was far too Muggle for any decent member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to bestow upon their son.

In any case, Walburga was only too aware of how her son had shunned the peers amongst whom he should have found his friends. The mishap of his Sorting may have added an unfortunate complication, but nevertheless, with his status as heir to the Black name and fortune, not to mention his natural charm, Sirius Orion should have had very little trouble befriending the right people at school, had he seen fit to so much as try. But instead, her son had been content to surround himself with wizards of a far lesser quality; a rag-tag pack of Gryffindor boys whom Walburga had never seen any purpose in troubling herself to know in great detail.
Of course, she was all-too aware of the Potter boy - the latest offspring of a family so proud to call itself a disgrace to its pureblood heritage. Even now, years later, she could picture him all too clearly in her mind; an unsightly mess of black hair, smirking mischievously, his eyes twinkling behind his round glasses with his arm slung across Sirius's shoulder as they loped along the station platform towards the crowd of waiting parents. To this day, the memory of the over-familiarity made her insides churn bitterly.

There had been other boys, hangers-on, strolling behind them - always behind. Two or three of them? Walburga could scarcely recall. She'd always been too busy trying to keep her face rigid and plain, instead of giving in to the urge to grimace in disgust (and later, bitterness) at the sight of that Potter boy clinging to her son with such aggravating familiarity.

Was it possible that this Peter could have been one of those boys in the background?

Walburga sighed as she checked the time on her watch. It was still the middle of the night, several hours at least before Sirius would awaken. Several more hours of waiting and wondering. Her natural tendency towards impatience urged her to shake her son awake this moment and demand the answers she was owed. But she resisted. He looked so peaceful whilst asleep, in spite of how ill he still looked. Though well on the way to recovery, his pale complexion and tired-looking eyes spoke of just how ill he had been a few short days ago. Walburga shuddered to remember just how close to death her son had come. She had no intention of seeing such a sight again.

Her son needed rest in order to recover. And rest was what she would ensure he had. Whether he liked it or not.

The hours crawled by slowly, but even the longest nights must eventually end. And so, at long last, the pale morning sunlight began to flicker through the gaps in the drawn curtains and the faint twittering of birds in the trees outside could be heard, signalling the start of a new day.

As the morning set in, Walburga kept her eyes closely trained on Sirius, searching for any hint that he might awaken. But as six o'clock ticked towards seven and seven towards eight, Sirius didn't stir. Walburga was sure she had only given him a minute dose of the sleeping draught which surely should have worn off by now. Had she somehow miscalculated yet again?

But then, as she stared at her son's peacefully sleeping face, there was always the chance that the potion had indeed worn off but Sirius himself elected to keep on sleeping. A good sign. For days now Walburga had been reluctant to allow him to drift in and out of sleep at his body's own free will, lest he fall victim to the horrific nightmares which had plagued him early on in his recovery, but it seemed that peaceful, unaided sleep was something he had now regained mastery of.

Or not.

With a gasp so sudden that it made his mother jump, Sirius awoke, his eyes shooting open wide with alarm. Clearly some unpleasant sight in his dreams had shocked him out of his slumber.
As he attempted to sit up, Walburga's hand was at his shoulder in an instant, gently pushing him back down.

"Good morning, Sirius," she said plainly, drawing his attention to her.

Sirius's eyes searched her for a moment. Through their window Walburga could practically see the thoughts running through her son's mind. He seemed confused and panicked for a moment, but the longer he looked, the more he seemed to relax as the memories of their nighttime encounter came flooding back.

When she felt him relax back against the bed once more, Walburga removed the hand holding him down.

"What time is it?" Sirius asked hoarsely as he raised a shaking hand to rub his eyes.

"Almost nine o'clock"

"In the morning?"

What a seemingly absurd question, considering he had just awoken from sleep. Surely it would be obvious to him that it must be the morning? But then, Walburga considered, it had been a long time since Sirius had had any reason to distinguish between times of day. The concept of time meant very little in Azkaban, after all. Night or day, there was always darkness. Only the darkness.

"Yes" she replied, pressing her hand to Sirius's shoulder again as he tried once more to sit up.

Sirius's eyes narrowed in slight annoyance at the gesture but he obeyed the silent command and lay still.

His eyes flitted about the dimly-lit bedroom curiously.

"I'm not in my own room," he observed.

"No"

"Why not?"

Walburga considered for a moment, reluctant to speak the honest truth. In telling him that she believed the memories within his old room - with it's vulgar red-and-gold Gryffindor banners and ghastly Muggle posters - might upset him, she risked drawing his attention to such memories regardless.

"It is… not quite ready to be slept in" she said, finally.

Sirius gave a slight huff, suggesting he sensed this was not entirely the truth.

"Last night…" he muttered sleepily, his voice unsure. "You said that you'd - got me out…?"

Walburga swallowed hard. Now was not the time for such questions. Not just yet. Not so soon.

As though she hadn't heard him at all, she reached forward and pressed her palm to Sirius's forehead. Sirius frowned at the invasion and gave a feeble jerk of his head in a token attempt to shake her off.

"Still a little warm," Walburga remarked. "Still better than yesterday, though"

"Why did-?"

"Kreacher!"

Sirius flinched at the sudden sharpness of Walburga's call. When the house elf appeared beside his mistress, the young man and the elf shared a mutual scowl.

"Bring Master Sirius's breakfast," Walburga ordered as she thwarted her son's attempt to sit up once more.

"I'm not-"

"Now"

Kreacher bowed low before disappearing once more after uttering his usual eager "Of course, Mistress"

"How did you do it?"

Walburga reached for the potion bottles on the bedside table, ignoring Sirius's questions once more.

"You'll need to take more of your potions before you eat," she said briskly as she busied herself with setting out the dose phials. "You are recovering well but it will still be a few days before-"

"Mother!"

Walburga paused, the bottle of black liquid frozen in mid-air in her grasp. She was taken aback by the sound of that word - the name by which she hadn't been called in years. The name which there had been no one left to call her by. Until now.

Sirius, taking advantage of his mother's clearly-stunned state, seized the opportunity to haul himself up against the headboard at last. His arms trembled under his own weight, his elbows seeming perilously close to giving way and sending him collapsing back down, but Walburga forced herself not to intervene. She could only keep him down for so long.

She slowly placed the potion bottle back down onto the bedside table.

"Does it really need explaining?" she asked stiffly, in response to his first question. She stared down at her lap, suddenly unable to meet her son' gaze."I would have thought it would be clear enough"

"Considering the last time you saw me, you said you could no longer stand the sight of me, I'd hardly say it's unreasonable to wonder why you went to the trouble of freeing me from prison"

There was a clear trace of dark bitterness in Sirius's words. Walburga's eyes flitted up to glance at her son. What she found was a hard, accusing stare, made only worse by the pale gauntness of his face.

"You were gravely ill," she said. "Ill, filthy and starving in that place. What sort of mother would I be if I'd left you there to die?"

"The same one you were for sixteen years"

There it was. A trace of the Sirius his mother better recognised. That natural talent for riling her up, of knowing which exact words to say in order to ignite the spark of anger deep within her that she struggled, and so often failed, to control. His grey eyes flared with the same angry defiance that she recognised from when she had last seen him as a surly teenager. Azkaban had not quelled his natural tendency towards insolence.

Walburga stared hard at her son, breathed deep and slow, and forced herself to be calm. She would not rise to his bait. Now was not the time for arguments. Her son still had far too little strength to waste it on petty arguments.

Luckily, she was spared the task of composing a reply by a loud CRACK as Kreacher reappeared, carrying a steaming bowl of porridge.

"Would Mistress care for anything herself?" the elf growled affectionately as he handed over the bowl.

"Not just yet" Walburga replied. "I'll take breakfast later, downstairs"

The elf bowed and was gone once more, leaving mother and son alone once more.

"I don't like porridge," said Sirius, eyeing the bowl suspiciously.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you do" Walburga stirred the mixture with the spoon.

"I know what I do and don't like"

"Nonsense. You ate it almost every day when you were a child"

"I didn't like it then and I don't like it now"

"I would have thought-" Walburga set the bowl aside onto the bedside table and shot her son a sharp look. "-that someone facing his first decent meal in three years would be a tad less choosy about the food on offer"

The spark of defiance in Sirius's eyes flickered under the weight of his mother's glare. Walburga felt a small, inner triumph in knowing that one of her sharp looks could unnerve her stubborn eldest son as well today as they had done when he was a boy.

"You need to take your potions first, at any rate"

Walburga reached for the bottle of black liquid once more.

"What potions?"

Sirius shrank back a little into the pillows, his eyes fixed on the phial as his mother measured out the dose.

"Medicinal potions" Walburga said briskly. "How did you think I cured your fading fever?"

Sirius was silent for a moment, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his mother.

"I was under the impression that fading fever was incurable"

Walburga kept her eyes firmly down at the bottle as she replaced the stopper and set it aside.

"Or has there been some sort of miracle breakthrough in the last three years?"

Always so full of questions, never one to simply just do as he was told. And yet, Walburga couldn't bring herself to feel as annoyed with him as she might have done in times gone by.

"Suddenly you've an interest in potioneering?" Walburga arched an eyebrow at her son.

"Not really," Sirius replied, pressing himself further back into the pillows as Walburga leaned towards him with the phial. "Just an interest in how an incurable illness suddenly has a remedial potion"

"If you're that keen, once you're up and about you can read the recipe for yourself in the library. Until then-"

She raised the dose phial towards Sirius's mouth. He flinched and turned away, reminding Walburga of a particularly head-shy Abraxan colt of her grandfather's from her youth.

"Enough of this, now" she said sharply. "Without this potion you would have died days ago. And unless you finish the course you may well still fall ill again. I'll not have my efforts wasted on account of your stubbornness. Now, open"

Reluctantly, Sirius silently opened his mouth and allowed his mother to deposit the single drop of potion onto his tongue. He yelped as it hissed, fizzed and dissolved.

"What the hell is in that stuff?" he asked with a grimace.

"The necessary ingredients" Walburga replied shortly as she busied herself with measuring out the dose of the nutrition tonic.

"Well, I didn't think it was pumpkin juice," Sirius murmured. "Speaking of which, I'm guessing that's not what that is, either?"

"You guessed right," Walburga replied drily as she held the phial up to the light to check the quality of the bright orange liquid.

"What is it, then?" Sirius asked when it became clear that his mother didn't see fit to enlighten him unprompted.

"It is a nutritional tonic" said Walburga, growing impatient with his questions.

She felt a momentary pang at the memory of having tended to Regulus when he had fallen ill with a winter chill during one Christmas break. Unlike his elder brother, her younger son had never asked such questions, had always obediently swallowed his mother's remedies without a fight.

She forced herself to suppress the memory against the rising tide of emotion it evoked, as thoughts of her deceased son always did.

"What's the point in taking that, when I'm about to eat anyway?" asked Sirius. "Is food not enough?"

Walburga tilted her head to one side and smirked slightly in amusement.

"Oh? Suddenly you're in favour of porridge after all?"

A faint but evident flush of pink appeared in her son's pale, hollow cheeks, giving him a hint of a satisfyingly healthy complexion at last.

"To answer your question-" Walburga said with an impatient sigh. "No, it is not enough - not for you. You've been far too ill to eat at all until now and without this tonic, you would have died of starvation days ago, fading fever or not. This will ensure you get your strength back as quickly as possible. So, unless you desire to spend any longer in bed than necessary, I suggest you do as I say and take it"

She picked up the phial once more and firmly lifted it to Sirius's mouth. To her satisfaction, he did not resist further, simply swallowed the orange liquid with a grimace.

"Not as sweet as it looks" he remarked, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt.

The shake in his spindly arm as he did so did not go unnoticed by his eagle-eyed mother.

"It is a medicinal potion, Sirius" said Walburga. "A pleasant taste is entirely surplus to requirement"

It was true, there were certain potions which could tolerate the addition of a little sugar without damaging the quality, but Walburga had never been one for such frivolous indulgences in her potion-making.

"Here-"

She picked up the porridge bowl once again and gave the contents a stir.

"This ought to take the taste away" she said as she loaded the spoon.

Sirius eyed the steaming porridge with distaste.

"I'm not hungry" he claimed, at almost the exact same time as his stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl.

"Clearly" said Walburga wryly, eyebrows raised.

Sirius's cheeks flushed pinker still.

"Can't I have something else?" he asked. "It's been three years, after all. I'd much prefer a decent fry up"

"You're in no fit state to handle such greasy rubbish" Walburga said firmly as she lifted the spoon. She shot him a warning glare. "Now, stop this foolishness and eat your breakfast"

To her somewhat surprise, Sirius did not resist further. Though frowning in obvious dislike, he accepted the spoonfuls of porridge in silence.

The sight of the empty bowl released a sense of relief within Walburga. Safe in the knowledge that her starved son has at last consumed some proper, hot, nourishing food, she could allow herself to breathe just a little easier.

"You never answered my question" said Sirius quietly as Walburga tapped the empty bowl with her wand, vanishing it.

"Yes I did" Walburga replied, her voice dismissive.

"No, you didn't"

Rejuvenated by the food, Sirius pushed himself up from his half-sitting position a little further against the pillows.

"You never told me why you did it. Why you got me out"

Walburga felt a painful knot tighten in the pit of her stomach. She was running towards a dead end and she knew it. She could only avoid Sirius's questions for so long. Sooner or later, she would have to answer.

"When they realised you were ill, the Ministry sent me a letter" she explained, tackling the easier of the two questions. "Inviting me to visit you, before you died"

It seemed a cruel thing, in hindsight. To allow one to visit a relative in such a place - to look, to touch, to speak to… but not to save. Walburga was surprised no one had attempted what she had done before now.

"And you… accepted?"

Walburga fixed her son with a dry look.

"You needn't sound so surprised" she quipped.

"It's just an odd concept, is all. You wanting to visit me in prison" Sirius glanced down at the bed, his confidence seeming to falter for a moment. "I don't see why you'd bother visiting. Let alone go to the hassle of getting me out"

"It is as I said before," said Walburga, quietly but firmly. "If I had walked away and left you in Azkaban, you would certainly have died. That- simply wasn't something I could do"

"But why?" Sirius asked, exasperated. "You didn't give a damn about me for five years before Azkaban, why would you suddenly care now?"

It wasn't Sirius's words which stung the most, but the conviction with which he spoke them. It was clear as day that there was no doubt in his mind that she - his own mother - would happily see him on the brink of a wretched death in the most miserable of places and be content to leave him there to rot.

The thought struck Walburga like a stinging hex to the chest. It angered her. It fuelled her.

She reached out a hand and, gently but firmly, tilted Sirius's chin up, forcing him to look at her. He did not resist.

"Whatever the circumstances, whatever may have happened in the past-" She fixed her firstborn with a piercing look, staring directly into the identical silver eyes. "-I am still your mother"

For what must surely have been the first time in his life, Sirius did not have a comeback. He stared searchingly at Walburga, clearly searching for any hint that may suggest the presence of a lie. But he could stare all day if he wished and still be unsuccessful. Not that Walburga had time for such things.

"You look tired," she said, breaking the moment between them. She turned his head to one side, examining his worn-out face for a moment before releasing him. "You ought to rest a while longer"

"I'm fine"

He looked anything but. His eyes looked heavy from the effort of keeping them open, his face had paled once more and he was still so painfully thin, so fragile-looking…

"You are not fine until I say you are," said Walburga firmly.

"Look, I've taken all your potions, I've eaten the damned porridge, surely I can get up for just a bit-"

In the middle of attempting to lift himself upright enough to get out of bed, Sirius's arms shuddered under his weight and gave way beneath him, sending him collapsing back down against the pillows.

Walburga was on him in an instant, seizing the opportunity to tuck the loosened covers back around him firmly.

"There, you see?" she said, raising her eyebrows at him. "I'd hardly call that an example of someone ready and able to be out of bed. You require rest to regain your strength. Here-"

Walburga tapped the bedside table and a new dose phial appeared. She began to measure out a dose of the dreamless sleeping draught.

"No" said Sirius, scowling stubbornly. "No more of that stuff. I'll sleep when I want to"

"It is not simply to help you fall asleep, Sirius" Walburga sighed. "From the look of you, I'm sure you'd have no trouble with that - if you let yourself. It is to ensure you have a peaceful sleep, undisturbed by your-" She paused for a moment. "-memories"

Sirius looked away.

"I don't want it" he muttered defiantly.

Walburga looked down at her son. Even in such a sorry state, he still had to have the last word, to put up even a token struggle against what was best for him, simply for the sake of it. As if the sky might fall down if he ever allowed himself to simply do as his mother bade him without question.

His iron will was something even the dementors of Azkaban could not break. The thought invoked a sense of pride within Walburga. Her boy was strong, even if that strength meant him defying her at every turn.

"Very well, then"

Sirius had clearly not expected her answer. At the sound of her words, his eyes flickered up to look at her curiously.

"What?" he asked, slack-mouthed.

"You don't wish to take the sleeping draught, then fine. Don't take it"

Walburga placed the dose phial, with the measure of potion still inside, on the bedside table, within Sirius's reach. She then pointed her wand at the bed and gave it a single, sharp flick. The covers glowed a faint shade of green for a moment, startling the bed's occupant.

"What did you do?" Sirius asked, his eyes flashing with suspicion.

"You need to rest"

At his mother's stark, telling words, Sirius attempted to sit up. As he did so, the limp fabric of the bedding seemed to tighten, the edges holding themselves down firmly, preventing him from rising. He tried to remove his arms from under the covers but once again, the fabric did not allow it, keeping them trapped beneath the covers.

"You can't just-!"

"I suggest you focus on saving your strength, instead of wasting it on fruitless efforts" said Walburga, the picture of calm composure against her son's frustrated struggling. "Wasting energy will only mean you take longer to recover"

Sirius let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as he finally ceased fighting his mother's entrapment charm - a spell she had encountered several years ago in a scarcely-read book in the library and had instantly wished she'd known of during Sirius's childhood, when he could not be trusted to remain in bed when ill.

Sirius glared daggers up at his mother.

"You mad old-"

"I will leave the sleeping draught here, in case you change your mind" Walburga gestured to the phial on the bedside table. "The charm will allow you to reach out your arm far enough to take it, but no more"

She paused beside the bed for a moment, examining a lock of matted hair which had fallen into Sirius's eyes during his thrashing about. She reached out and brushed it aside with her fingers, her eyes carefully avoiding the capture of her son's furious gaze.

His hair was in dire need of a proper cut, she thought to herself. But that was a matter for another day. When he was stronger.

"I have matters to attend to," said Walburga after a moment's pause. "I will return later. Get some sleep"

Sirius stubbornly refused to match her lukewarm words of farewell with a reply.

As Walburga shut the bedroom door behind her, a small, growling voice reached her ears.

"Mistress-"

She looked down to find the house elf peering up at her with a parchment scroll clutched in his spindly fingers. He held it up to her with his head bowed.

"-a letter just arrived for you"

Walburga took the scroll, noting the familiar black wax seal.

"Prepare my breakfast in the parlour" she replied to the elf. "I will be there in a few minutes"

The elf disappeared to do as he was bid. Now alone, Walburga broke the seal bearing the family coat of arms and unrolled the parchment.

I will come at noon to examine the boy. We will discuss the matter then. Discuss nothing with him until I have arrived.

Arcturus Black

Walburga could practically hear the letter's few words barked at her in her father-in-law's gruff, demanding tone. She was glad now to have resisted the urge to pry information out of Sirius herself straight away, as she had so longed to. At least she would be spared having to endure the irritation of the patriarch's displeasure at her having dared to start without him.

She rolled the scroll closed again and deposited it inside the pocket of her gown skirt.

Pausing outside the bedroom door for a moment, Walburga listened keenly for sounds within, but there were none. No frustrated moans, no rustling of the bedclothes as Sirius fought the spell that kept him in bed. Perhaps he had taken her advice, for once, and succumbed to the sleep which he'd so clearly looked like he'd needed.

Walburga could not help but allow herself the indulgence of a fond smile. Sirius's wilful nature may be frustrating, aggravating, even angering at times, but he would not be her Sirius without it.

And, after all, Walburga Black did so love a challenge.

Cold. An intense, bone-chilling cold which consumed him with such intensity that not even numbness was offered as an escape. Voices. Terrible, pained voices, calling out words he had not heard but knew had been said, swirling about him like flecks of dust in the air. Flashes. Scenes that flashed before his eyes, each one lingering not long enough to fully make out in detail before the terrible sight was replaced by the next; Muggle children walking the streets in fake wizards' robes and witches' hats, carved, lit pumpkin lanterns on a garden wall, a house reduced to rubble, the roof caved in, a black-haired baby wrapped in a blanket-

Sirius gasped as his eyes shot wide open. He stared up at the golden chandelier, panting heavily, his head swimming.

It was just a dream, he told himself, as he did after every such dream. Just another bad dream forced into his mind by the demen-

No. Not the dementors. Not anymore. He wasn't in Azkaban, he had to remind himself. He was at Grimmauld Place. He was home.

Those words still felt impossible to believe and yet they were very much the truth, as absolutely absurd as they sounded.

Sirius blinked hard in the dim candlelight of the Emerald Room. He glanced towards the tall window to see bright daylight trickling through the gaps in the drawn curtains, much brighter than it had been previously. What time was it? When had he fallen asleep?

He attempted to sit himself up against the headboard - and the covers tucked firmly around his shoulders suddenly sealed themselves tight against him, keeping him down.

Sirius groaned in annoyance at his mother's spell, effectively keeping him trapped right where she wanted him. She had never been one for subtle gestures, but this new spell was particularly aggravating. Sirius had always hated the feeling of being contained, restricted. And a spell which prevented him from so much as sitting up in bed, let alone get out of bed, was deeply frustrating, no matter what the intention behind it.

"You need to rest" she had said as she'd cast the spell which imprisoned him within his own bed. "Wasting energy will only mean you take longer to recover"

The concept of his mother being the one responsible for his freedom from Azkaban, for saving his life and nursing him back to health, was still one which he found hard to wrap his head around. For the majority of his life, the name Walburga Black conjured images in Sirius's head of a cold, austere witch, not a coal-black curl out of place whilst she worked her venom deep into him; how he was a disgrace, a disappointment, a shame on the family and the name he was born with. It did not conjure images of his mother tucking him into bed, feeding him porridge, taking care of him whilst he was sick…

This was indeed a very strange world he had awoken in.

Why had she done it? Why had she gone to so much trouble (however she'd done it, it surely couldn't have been an easy feat) to free him - the white sheep of the Black family? Why was he here? The short-changed answer his mother had offered him that morning surely couldn't have been all there was to it. Years of turbulence and estrangement couldn't just suddenly be forgotten on the simple fact that she was "still his mother" There must surely be some other factor at play here that he hadn't realised yet.

The sound of the bedroom door unlocking wrenched Sirius from his thoughts. He glanced across the room to see his mother enter. She wore a gown of deep, forest green - the same gown she had worn earlier that morning - a rope of glinting onyx stones looped around her neck several times over and the same intense, sharp-eyed look that had never failed to turn Sirius into an awkward ball of self-consciousness in as many years as he could remember.

"I hope you've managed to get some rest these last few hours?" Walburga asked expectantly by way of greeting.

"Hours?" Sirius was stunned. Had he really slept that long?

His mother arched an eyebrow.

"I'll assume your lack of awareness as to the time means that you did"

"And the time is?"

"Just gone twelve o'clock"

Noon. He had slept the whole morning away. And after all his earlier talk about feeling well enough to be up and about...

Walburga strode over to the bed and bent over her son, pressing her palm to Sirius's forehead. Sirius furrowed his brow in annoyance at the unauthorised intrusion but did not attempt to pull away. His protests would not stop her, and besides, he was in no position to get away.

"No fever" Walburga remarked. "It's really quite something, what a few hours' rest can achieve"

"Oh yes, I'm sure it had nothing to do with whatever is in that vile black gunk you forced into me" Sirius retorted.

"That 'vile black gunk' saved your life" Walburga said sharply, glaring down at her scowling firstborn.

"So you keep reminding me" Sirius narrowed his eyes up at his mother suspiciously. "Not that you're in any hurry to tell me what's in this potion capable of curing an incurable illness"

He observed how his mother's mouth flattened into a thin line, her grey eyes glinting with annoyance at his questions. His mother had always hated being questioned.

"That is none of your concern" she said, stiffly. "What is your concern is ensuring that you continue to heal and regain your strength"

"What do you think I've been doing all morning, staring at the ceiling?"

His mother's gaze intensified at his quip. Her steel eyes bore into Sirius's for a moment, silently, before they flickered towards the untouched phial of sleeping draught on the bedside table.

"And did you sleep well?" she asked.

Without the sleeping draught , were the unspoken words with which that sentence was supposed to end.

"Perfectly" Sirius replied firmly, shoving all memory of the unpleasant final moments of his sleep before waking to the back of his mind.

The corner of Walburga's mouth twitched ever so slightly. The minutest of hints, but one which Sirius recognised as annoyance - his mother's annoyance at having missed an opportunity to declare herself as having been right all along.

He forced himself to suppress a triumphant smirk.

"In fact I'm feeling rather refreshed" he continued with an air of forced cheerfulness. "So if you wouldn't mind releasing me from this- this, duvet prison of yours?"

There was a moment of silence whilst Walburga considered her son's request. She stared down at him, clearly inspecting him for any sign which might give her justification for denying his request. But when she found none, she silently took out her wand and gave the stick of elm wood a flick in the direction of the bed. The covers glowed the same bright green as they had before, and when Sirius attempted to sit up, this time, the covers did not force him to stay down.

Sirius did indeed feel better after his morning's rest, although keeping his arms from shaking as he hoisted himself up was still a great effort. His mother watched him like a hawk as he settled himself against the pillows, her eyes keenly trained on him, ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

"You do look a good deal more well-rested than you did this morning" she remarked, sitting herself down in the chair by his bedside, her wand resting in her lap. "Which is just as well, considering"

Sirius's ears pricked up at her words.

"Considering what?" he asked, his guard automatically up.

His mother sat up a little straighter, her shoulders tensed.

"Last night, just before you fell asleep, you- spoke a little"

The suggestiveness of her tone immediately set Sirius on edge.

"Did I?" he asked, avoiding his mother's intense gaze. "What about?"

"About- what happened, that night" Her grip tightened around the handle of her wand, her knuckles whitening with effort. "The night you were arrested"

Sirius's eyes widened as he felt a shiver of dread run through him. He suddenly felt as though all the warmth from his body had immediately drained away. Feelings of fear and panic began to fill him. Feelings connected to the past. Feelings he had not allowed himself to feel for a long time. Feelings he had always retreated into his dog form to avoid being forced to confront by the dementors.

But this was not Azkaban. This was Grimmauld Place and there were no dementors here Only his mother. And Padfoot could not protect him from her.

"I didn't-" he spoke hurriedly, with no real idea of where his hurried words would take him. "I don't-"

"We need to ask you some questions, Sirius" Walburga said in a quiet yet firm voice as she leaned forward in her chair slightly, her hands clasped together firmly in her lap. "We need to know exactly what happened that night".

"'We'? " asked Sirius, his eyes flashing with suspicion.

In answer to his question, the bedroom door opened once again, in a manner so timely it was as though the person behind it had been lying in wait just outside the door, waiting for the most opportune moment to make their entrance.

As the door swung open, Sirius was confronted with the sight of Arcturus Black, his grandfather and head of the Black family, for the first time in eight years.

"You" said Sirius grimly, his voice devoid of all the warmth and happiness which one might normally expect from a man reunited with his grandson after so many years.

"Careful, boy, don't over-excite yourself" Arcturus barked sarcastically at his grandson as he made his way into the room, pausing at the foot of the bed, facing Sirius head-on. "You might wear yourself out"

Sirius's surprised expression darkened into one of painfully-obvious dislike as he watched Arcturus. Studying his grandfather closely, he suddenly felt as though the last eight years had not passed. Every inch of him was as it had always been; he wore the same heavy robes of deep crimson, the same gold signet ring glinting on his finger, trapped there by the swollen knuckle of his claw-like,arthritic hand which clutched the same ivory-handled walking cane that he had once threatened to beat Sirius with after he had sent a priceless suit of armour at Noire House crashing to the ground in an attempt to get inside it, no less than seventeen years ago.

The man had scarcely changed at all from Sirius's last memory of him. He didn't even seem to have gained an additional wrinkle on his scowling face. The old cretin would outlive them all, Sirius thought to himself.

"Still clinging on then, I see?" Sirius quipped, shooting Arcturus a look of matching distaste.

Beside him, Walburga's mouth thinned disapprovingly at her son's impertinence.

"Sirius" she warned him, her tone low and heavy.

"I might say the same to you," Arcturus replied to his grandson. Neither the elder man nor the younger showed any indication of having heard the witch sat between them, such was the intensity with which their eyes were fixed upon one another. "I'd have thought that three years in Azkaban might have made more of an impression on you"

You'd hoped it had turned me into a quivering wreck for you to bend to your will, you mean.

"Sorry to disappoint you," said Sirius with obvious irony.

It was no hidden fact that Arcturus and Sirius had never shared what one might call a "warm" relationship. The stern-faced, sharp-tongued Black patriarch so rarely had a good word to say about anyone, even amongst his own family, but there seemed to be no one he had fewer good words for than his eldest grandson. Glancing back across the years of his childhood, Sirius could recall endless occasions during which he had endured his grandfather's barked orders for him to sit up, be still, behave, conduct himself in the manner befitting a Black.

Sirius had long-since given up even attempting to obey - none of his attempts were ever deemed worthy of the old man's satisfaction.

Under Arcturus's iron gaze, Sirius pulled himself up a little straighter in bed, all too aware of how those beady grey eyes were looking him up and down, no doubt absorbing every aspect of his prison-ravaged form and deciding how best to file away his findings in his vast mental library of reasons why Sirius was a disgrace to the family.

"So. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Sirius asked with stiff formality.

"Don't get smart with me, boy" said Arcturus sharply.

Here we go, Sirius thought to himself. He's off on one already. It's only been - what, two minutes?

"You know perfectly well why I'm here" Arcturus prowled around the side of the bed to stand beside his seated daughter-in-law, never once taking his eyes off of Sirius, as if the old man expected his grandson to leap out of bed at any moment and lunge at him.

"To check if the unfortunate news that I'm alive and back at Grimmauld Place was true?" Sirius cocked an eyebrow up at his grandfather. "It's all true, I'm afraid. You must be gutted"

"Don't talk such nonsense, Sirius" Walburga chided her son. "That is no way to speak to your grandfather"

" Particularly after he's invested enough gold to redecorate Noire House three times over in your freedom" said Arcturus with a huff of annoyance.

Sirius's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Y-you?"

"Yes, me" Arcturus snapped.

"But- but Mother-"

"Your mother wouldn't have had the slightest chance of securing your release without my help" Arcturus cut off his flabbergasted grandson mid-sentence. "Without my position and financial backing the Ministry would have laughed her requests out of the room"

Sirius glanced across to his mother, who's stony-faced expression gave away none of her inner feelings towards Arcturus's remarks, whatever they may be.

"But- why? " he asked, staring up at his grandfather's ever-scowling face. "Why the hell would you do such a thing for me?" Sirius ended his question with a snort of amusement at the complete absurdity of the suggestion that Arcturus Black, of all people, would toss so much as a knut towards freeing him from Azkaban, let alone the vast sum he alluded to having spent.

Arcturus's eyes narrowed down at his grandson.

"I think we've heard enough questions out of that mouth of yours for now" he growled lowly as he stared down at Sirius. "I'd say it's high time you started providing us with some answers , instead"

Sirius swallowed apprehensively.

"Answers?" he repeated.

"Don't play the fool with me, boy, you know exactly what we want to hear from you"

"And that is?" Sirius shot his grandfather a look of feigned curiosity, ignoring the sharp warning glare from his mother beside him.

Arcturus's eyes flashed with annoyance, his jaw clenching.

"An explanation " he growled. "We want the full story of precisely what happened that night"

"I can't think why" Sirius leaned back against the pillows and looked away, eyeing the wardrobe in the far corner of the room, hiding his deep unease at the thought of having to re-tell his tale under an outer impression of boredom. "Surely you read the whole juicy tale in the Prophet at the time? I bet it was a big scoop"

"Oh, it was" Arcturus seethed in a voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "Your face was plastered all over the front pages for days. Cackling away like an unhinged maniac "

The patriarch's voice shuddered with barely-controlled rage.

Sirius's blood ran cold at the sudden return of a long-forgotten memory. The Aurors dragging him away from the chaos, their hands digging into his skin, clutching at his body as it shook with the force of his laughter. He could remember the act of laughing, though not the feeling of it. He hadn't laughed since. He wasn't sure he remembered how to.

"Well then" said Sirius quietly. "Considering how well you can recall what a nut job I looked like on the front page, I hardly think you need me to repeat the whole article to you as well"

He dared not look up from where he stared down at the duvet, but he was certain his grandfather must have turned an unpleasant shade of purple by now. No doubt the old man would launch into yet another tirade about what an impertinent disgrace his grandson was and then storm out of the room, leaving Sirius in peace.

Alas, his mother had no intention of letting him off the hook quite so easily.

"You spoke in your sleep last night, Sirius" Walburga reminded him. "You said things which suggest that there is more to this case than was reported in the newspaper"

Sirius could feel the magnetic pull of his mother's intense gaze drawing his eyes up to look at her, almost against his own will. Sure enough, his mother's eyes, an exact match to his own, practically gleamed with certainty. Certainty that there were secrets to the infamous tale that Sirius was hiding from them, and a certainty that he would reveal them to his mother and grandfather whether he liked it or not.

Sirius sighed.

"Alright," he said, defeated. "What do you want to know?"

"Start from the beginning" Arcturus demanded briskly, barely a second after Sirius had finished his question. He folded both gnarled hands over the ivory handle of his cane, leaning forward expectantly."Tell it all and tell it true . None of your childish flourishes "

Sirius glared at his grandfather's reference to his childhood habit of inventing wild and imaginative excuses in an attempt to avoid punishment for his misdemeanours.

"If you trust me so little, why don't you just shove some Veritaserum down my throat and have done with it?"

"Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind, boy" Arcturus threatened with a low growl.

"Enough of this" Walburga snapped impatiently, glaring at both her son and father-in-law. "We'll be here all day at this rate"

The witch turned to her son, fixing him with an expectant look.

"Sirius, tell us what happened that night, from the beginning" she commanded.

Sirius took a deep, uneasy breath. He could not put off the inevitable any longer.

"It's- hard to know where to start," he muttered, honestly.

"Well, where do you think was the start of it all?" his mother asked, in a surprisingly patient voice that Sirius wasn't used to from her.

He paused for a moment, considering.

"With the Fidelius Charm, I suppose"

"Ah yes, that" Arcturus tutted.

"How do you know about it?" Sirius demanded. "No one was supposed to know about the Charm"

"The Ministry became aware of it after the whole scheme blew up so spectacularly in your face" Arcturus replied gruffly, his grey eyes glinting with disapproval. "Dumbledore informed the Department of Law Enforcement, after your arrest"

Sirius felt a jolt in his stomach as he processed Arcturus's words. Dumbledore had told the Ministry that he was the supposed Secret Keeper. Dumbledore had been at the Ministry after his arrest, had been involved in the case. And Dumbledore had believed that he had betrayed James and Lily...

"I wasn't aware that what went on in the Department of Law Enforcement was any of your concern" said Sirius, burying his true thoughts under a facade of sarcastic lack of interest.

Arcturus leaned forwards against his cane, staring intently at Sirius.

"When what goes on in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement concerns a member of my family, no matter how wretched, then it becomes my concern"

Sirius glanced sideways at his mother, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout. Judging by her carefully-constructed blank mask, perfect for concealing confusion or surprise, she had not been aware of the details of the plan, the fall-out of which had seen him arrested. He wondered why. Had she not heard of the plan from Arcturus? He could hardly imagine his grandfather missing an opportunity to rant to the whole Black clan about his disgraced grandson's ultimate cock-up.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Arcturus barked, breaking the silence. "Continue"

"It was Dumbledore's idea, using the Fidelius Charm" Sirius's voice was low with distaste at the memory of it all. "He said it was our best shot at hiding Harry from Voldemort"

The two elder Blacks' expressions darkened at the sound of the name.

"And yet, it failed," said Arcturus, his mouth curving up into a slight smirk at the satisfying thought of the plan created by Albus Dumbledore having failed.

"Yes" Sirius replied bitterly. "It failed"

"And why was that?"

Sirius felt his insides churn with building anger.

"Because we chose the wrong Secret Keeper" he seethed.

"Oh?" Arcturus's head tilted in curiosity. "You are saying that you were the wrong choice for the role?"

"No..." Sirius murmured, almost too low to hear.

"Speak up, boy"

"I wasn't the Secret Keeper" Sirius snapped, aggravated by his grandfather's impatient bark.

Walburga and Arcturus stared at him. A tense silence hung between the three Blacks. If it hadn't been for the pain of the topic at hand, Sirius might have felt a degree of amusement at the shocked expressions of his mother and grandfather. But in that moment, he was incapable of feeling anything other than rage - a deep, suppressed fire within him which had been subdued for so long, but never fully extinguished, now finally allowed to flare once more.

"You… weren't the Secret Keeper?" asked Arcturus.

"No"

The patriarch's eyes narrowed down at Sirius.

"If you're lying to me, boy-"

"I'm not" Sirius spat with venom. "I wasn't the Secret Keeper"

"So Dumbledore lied to the Ministry, when he told us that you were? Is that what you are insinuating?"

"No" Sirius sighed. He began to feel tired and heavy under the weight of his grandfather's accusations.

"So who was the Potters' Secret Keeper?" Arcturus demanded.

Sirius swallowed hard. He wasn't sure he could speak the name. A hard lump rose in his throat as he prepared to speak, as though the feel of the words on his tongue might make him sick.

"Peter Pettigrew"

Walburga sucked in a sharp breath, her blank mask falling away to reveal undisguised shock at the sound of the name. Sirius looked up at her. His mother looked startled, as though she had seen a ghost.

"That is the name you spoke last night" she whispered. "You said that it wasn't you, that you didn't do it. That it was Peter "

"Is this true, boy?" Arcturus growled threateningly."If you're spinning us another one of your tales-"

"Of course it's true" Sirius spat angrily. "Do you really think that I'd lie about this?"

Arcturus's creased face flushed with colour at being spoken to so rudely. His hands began to shake under the weight with which he was leaning against his cane. He really ought to sit down, Sirius thought, before he keeled over.

"Well it certainly does seem plausible, given the word fo the wizard you are up against. Dumbledore may be a half-blood fool but even he wouldn't be so foolish as to lie to-"

"We swapped" Sirius blurted out suddenly, silencing his grandfather's opposition. "We swapped Secret Keepers. It was supposed to have been me. James wanted it to be me..."

"James?" Arcturus's brow furrowed.

"The Potter boy" Walburga murmured.

"James" Sirius's voice was low and dangerous as he glared the two elder Blacks. "His name was James "

His hands clutched fistfuls of the bed covers tightly, his breathing deep and slow in an attempt to control its shuddering. This was hard. All memory and feeling of the events that had led to his imprisonment had been buried deep inside him for the last three years. Reliving them now awoke old, painful feelings, fermented with age, far too potent.

"Continue, Sirius" Walburga prompted, calmly.

Sirius took a deep breath and did as he was bade.

"In the beginning, the plan was for me to be the Secret Keeper," said Sirius. "We all agreed - including Dumbledore. But I thought I was too obvious a choice. I thought, if we went for someone less obvious - in secret - and let everyone think it was me…"

"A decoy" said Arcturus with a snort.

"Yes" Sirius could see the disapproval etched clearly on Arcturus's face. "Peter was a friend from school. A close friend. Close enough to trust - or so we thought"

He let out a dark chuckle at the thought.

"Little did we know-" Sirius's voice was light, joking, as though he were on the cusp of the punchline of a brilliant joke. "-he was working for Voldemort the whole time! Can you believe that?"

Something inside him cracked. He began to laugh, a deep and terrible laugh. He couldn't seem to stop, the whole concept of the thing was just so damn funny.

"Silence!"

Arcturus's sharp shout was accompanied with the swish of wood whipping through the air as the old man drew out his wand and pointed it at his cackling grandson threateningly.

Sirius's laughter tailed off as he winced, fully expecting his grandfather to stun him. But instead, Arcturus reached out towards Sirius and lifted his chin with his wand tip, locking eyes with him.

"We've had quite enough of your nonsense" Arcturus said threateningly. "If your plan is to somehow derail this conversation with your hysterics and earn yourself the easy way out, then you're sorely mistaken. Now, tell us the rest. Calmly . Do I make myself clear?"

Sirius locked eyes with the elder Black for a moment, their shared rage and distaste towards each other mingling. His gaze flickered sideways for a moment, catching sight of his mother, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during his outburst.

Walburga sat, wide-eyed and alert, staring at him with alarm. Her already porcelain complexion had whitened with shock. She looked startled, almost spooked by him. It was a startlingly different image of his mother than Sirius was used to.

"Fine" he muttered in reply to his grandfather.

Arcturus withdrew his wand and replaced it within the pocket of his robes.

"So," the old man cleared his throat. "Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, and he betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord. So how did events really play out that night?"

"The night of the attack, I went to check on Peter in his hiding place. But he wasn't there"

Sirius felt the anger inside him begin to burn brighter at the memory - how he'd blasted down the locked door with his wand when there was no answer to his knock, how he'd expected to find the place a mess, with obvious signs of a struggle, but finding everything in perfect order. It was all far too perfect.

I knew then that something was wrong. There had to be. I went straight to Godric's Hollow," said Sirius, his skin crawling as images of the broken house flashed before him in his mind. "And when I saw what had happened, I-"

He winced and paused, screwing his eyes closed at the memory of what he had seen that night.

"You wanted to kill Pettigrew," said Arcturus.

"Yes" whispered Sirius.

"But you didn't?"

"No"

Arcturus gave a bemused huff. It was clear he did not believe Sirius.

"So Pettigrew killed himself then, did he?"

"I wish he had" Sirius seethed. "I wish he was dead. It's no less than he deserves"

"You mean to tell us-" Walburga leaned forward in her chair. "-that Pettigrew is alive?"

"Yes"

"Poppycock" Arcturus waved a hand dismissively. "Utter nonsense. The man was blown up, along with twelve muggles. All they found was-"

"-a finger" Sirius interrupted, staring up at his grandfather. "A finger which he cut off himself to make everyone believe precisely that"

Arcturus's mouth twitched, his conviction clearly wavering. But still, he would not be convinced.

"This is absurd. That street was blown to high heaven! No one could have survived it"

"I did"

Arcturus glared down at Sirius.

"The caster of such a spell is not subject to its wrath. Even a First Year pup knows that"

"Except I didn't cast it," Sirius argued, growing impatient with his grandfather's continual refusal to believe him. "It was Peter. He blew up that street to cover his back so he could make his escape and leave me to take the fall"

"Oh really?" Arcturus chuckled, as he had done when presented with one of Sirius's tall childhood tales. "And how did he make his escape, hmm? Apparated away, did he? A likely story - in all that chaos. He'd never have managed it"

"He didn't Apparate" Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his grandfather's rambling, rather than simply allow him to answer. Arcturus Black always had to control the conversation. "He- transformed"

Sirius knew he was going to have to explain it one way or another. But he had to do it carefully. He might have to confess Peter's secret, but he was determined to keep his own.

"Transformed, you say?" Arcturus tilted his head to one side. "How so?"

"Peter is an Animagus"

There was a silent pause as Arcturus and Walburga processed this new information.

"An Animagus?" Walburga repeated, clearly taken aback.

"I thought I'd made it abundantly clear" Arcturus seethed. "That you were not to lie to me, boy"

"I'm not lying!" Sirius lurched forwards in the bed, baring his teeth angrily.

"Sirius, calm down" Walburga put a firm hand on her son's shoulder and firmly pushed him back against the pillows.

"An Animagus, indeed" Arcturus chuckled in disbelief. "At what - twenty years old? Twenty-one? It takes a great deal of study and time to master such a skill. Hardly an achievable feat for one so young"

Sirius snorted.

"Well, I assure you, it's achievable, because Peter Pettigrew is an Animagus. I've seen it for myself"

"Alright. Suppose that this Pettigrew boy is , as you say, an Animagus" Arcturus's patronising tone, as though talking to a child he knew was spinning him a story, made Sirius's jaw clench in stifled irritation. "What sort of animal does he turn into?"

"A rat," said Sirius. He practically spat the words in disgust. "Rather appropriate, in the end. He blew up that street, transformed and made a run for it. The blast he caused had opened up a crack in the sewers - he crawled off down there, I expect"

Sirius hoped that would be the end of his grandfather's queries into the logistics of the matter. He wanted to avoid all suspicion of himself as being an Animagus. Padfoot was his - a secret he was not willing to share.

Unfortunately, this particular bone was not one his mother was going to drop quite so easily.

"How was it that this Pettigrew boy managed to become an Animagus so young?" she asked, her grey eyes glinting with suspicion.

Sirius was careful to keep his expression blank.

"Dunno" he said with a shrug.

"After all, it's a tricky business, becoming an Animagus" Walburga pondered. "One would assume that it would be rather hard to conceal such a substantial effort from such close friends"

Sirius averted his eyes away from her intense gaze. He never could hold his mother's gaze when accused of a lie.

"Look - I can't tell you how he did it, alright?" he said, exasperated. "It was the middle of a war, everyone had their secrets. I guess that was his. But that's what he is, and that's what happened. Believe me if you want, or don't. I don't care what you believe"

Sirius suddenly felt very tired, though he made a valiant attempt to hide it. The digging up of old memories and reopening of old wounds had drained him of what little energy he had built up through his morning's rest. He wanted to be left alone, to curl up into a ball and hide under the bed covers.

But Arcturus was not finished with him just yet.

"What I cannot get over-" the old man shook his head as he looked down at Sirius. "-is why in Salazar's name you were there in the first place"

Sirius furrowed his brow.

"What?"

"In that street" said Arcturus. "In the middle of a muggle town, of all places, goodness knows how many miles from Godric's Hollow, from London, from anywhere in which someone of any use to the situation could be found"

"I tracked Peter down," said Sirius, darkly. "I went after him"

Arcturus's eyes widened.

"You 'went after him'? " he repeated, practically seething.

"Yes" replied Sirius in a voice which suggested that in his mind,the concept of doing anything else in such a situation was absurd.

"And Dumbledore approved of this ridiculous idea, did he? This was his back-up plan if the Fidelius Charm failed? To go charging in, all wands blazing, duelling in broad daylight in front of muggles"

"Dumbledore didn't know"

"What?"

"Dumbledore didn't know that I went after Peter. He didn't know about any of it, not even the Secret Keeper switch"

There was a pregnant pause whilst Arcturus absorbed the gravity of Sirius's confession.

"You idiot fool!" Arcturus spat furiously, pacing across the room before whirling back around to face his grandson. "Are you an actual imbecile?"

"What?" Sirius snapped, sitting up straighter and shooting his grandfather a challenging look.

"That rat killed my best friends! Of course I went after him! I wanted him dead - I still do!"

"You should have sought some sort of assistance!" Arcturus shouted, slamming his cane down hard on the ground - a gesture which might have been more threatening had the floor not been so richly-carpeted, muffling the noise. "You should have used your brain and devised a logical solution, not gone loping off after Pettigrew like a hound on the scent of a rabbit!"

"Really, Sirius, what a foolish thing to do" Walburga said with an exasperated sigh before Sirius could shoot a reply back at Arcturus.

"I'd hardly call trying to avenge my dead friends foolish " Sirius hissed at his mother.

"Really?" Walburga arched an eyebrow up at him with one of those infuriatingly-righteous maternal looks that Sirius had always loathed. "Charging off to kill a supposedly-innocent man whilst everyone involved in your little scheme believes that you were the Secret Keeper who betrayed the Potters?"

Sirius's words got caught in his throat before he could hurl them at her. Nothing he wanted to say in his defence seemed strong enough - not against his mother's logical evaluation of his actions that night.

"And you didn't think to include anyone - not even Dumbledore , for Salazar's sake, the ring-leader behind this whole ridiculous scheme - about the switch?"

Arcturus gave a dark chuckle.

"No wonder they locked you up and threw away the key, boy" Arcturus seethed, glaring down at his grandson with distaste. "You gave them the perfect scenario to close their case with - the whole damned war, in fact - handed it to them on a plate"

"You make it sound like I planned for this to happen" Sirius muttered angrily.

"One might almost suppose that you did, considering the mess you made of things!" Arcturus retorted. "The perfect end to the war - the Dark Lord destroyed and his right-hand man, a raving mass murderer, sent to Azkaban with no one left alive to even suggest that you might have been innocent, dragging this proud family's name through the mud yet again-"

"Will you shut up!" Sirius shouted, nostrils flaring with rage. "It might surprise you to learn but not everything I do is an attempt to try and ruin your precious family name. When are you going to get your thick skull around the fact that there are bigger things going on in the world than this family?"

Arcturus's face flushed a deep shade of purple.

"You insolent little-"

"That is quite enough!"

The force of Walburga's shrill voice, so unexpected after her relatively quiet approach until now.

Both the elder Black and the younger glared daggers at one another, neither daring to continue their spat under the witch's iron gaze.

"I think we ought to end this now" said Walburga, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirts. "We've heard all we needed to hear" She turned to Arcturus. "We know quite enough for now. And Sirius is tired, he needs to rest"

"I'm fine" said Sirius, though in truth he was rather worn out. His head throbbed from the effort of shouting and the re-telling of his tale had left him feeling emotionally exhausted.

"No you're not, you need to rest"

Sirius did not reply. His mother's words left no room for argument, and in truth, he had little strength left with which to argue.

"Very well," said Arcturus. "I'll be on my way, then" He shot Sirius one final, disgruntled look before turning to Walburga. "I'll be in touch later today"

And with that, the patriarch marched from the room without another word, practically slamming the bedroom door closed behind him.

Walburga quickly busied herself with guiding Sirius back down into the bed. Sirius lay down willingly, for once too drained to fight back.

"You ought not to provoke him so" said Walburga as she tucked the covers around him.

"It's not my fault he's such a miserable old cretin" Sirius groaned, halfheartedly wriggling the covers loose around his shoulders.

"Enough of that, now" Walburga's half-hearted sternness did little to mask her true thoughts.

Sirius knew perfectly well that his mother found her father-in-law as irritating as he did at times, not that she would thank him for saying as much out loud.

Such things were not to be spoken out loud - it simply wasn't done.

"Here-"

Sirius turned to see his mother holding a phial of sleeping draught up to his face.

"Take this, and get some sleep. I'll bring you some food in a few hours"

Before he had a chance to protest, and secretly glad to be relieved of the chance to, Sirius swallowed the sleeping draught and almost immediately felt the familiar light, fuzzy sensation begin to overcome him.

After all the chaotic roller-coaster of emotions he had endured over the last hour or so, the final thought which came to mind before he retreated into blissful oblivion, was how oddly comforting it was to feel his mother stroking his hair as he drifted off to sleep.