Thanks to Emily for the beta and for lending me your brain while mine was away.

I have shamelessly stolen the title for this story from a song by Stiff Little Fingers.

^V^

The constant rattle of the overhead luggage, the occasional slam of a compartment door and the laughter of happy teenagers were a low-level din aboard the Hogwarts Express, happy sounds that meant home was approaching. The late June sunshine streaming in the carriage window was a pleasant omen to those smiling travellers, predicting lazy days with no homework and no having to get out of bed early. Unfortunately for Sirius Black – Hogwarts student recently completed his fourth year of magical education and currently feigning sleep in a compartment surrounded by his friends – these wholesome sounds were more like the pounding of a death drum, a reminder that he was heading away from everything that was good and toward the cold evil snake pit he called home. Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration, Sirius thought; it was summer, so the house wouldn't be that cold.

In fact, the sun was baking hot; he shifted his leg in what he hoped appeared to be a random, sleep induced twitch. If the hideously frivolous summer sun succeeded in scorching a hole in the shin of his school trousers, Sirius would be completely lacking in the untattered-trouser department, and while he would dearly love to give his mother something to shout about that wasn't his posture, hair or generally disappointing character, getting her started the moment he stepped off the train seemed unwise even to him.

"And then," James Potter said, continuing his recital on the exciting summer holiday his parents had planned – the recital Sirius was pretending to sleep because of – "we'll be in Poland for a week, I can't wait! Dad says he managed to get tickets for a match there, it'll be brilliant, the Poles are Quidditch mad!"

Peter Pettigrew made a noise of jealousy, saying that he only had chickens, a grouchy goat and the slim possibility of annoying northern cousins to look forward to this summer.

The noise of the lunch trolley approaching put an end to James's description of the Grodzisk Quidditch stadium when he stood up to rummage in his trunk over head for some coins to pay the trolley lady. No sooner had James and Peter left the compartment than the seat next to Sirius dipped, and there was a sharp pain in his side that felt suspiciously like a pointy werewolf finger. This was confirmed as the prod was followed by Remus's voice saying, "You are a terrible fake sleeper."

Sirius opened one eye to look at his friend. "I fooled the others," he grumbled, "so I can't be that bad. You're just nosy."

Remus grinned, "Perhaps. But I've never seen anyone sleep with a frown on their face, it gave the game away."

"Right," Sirius said with a nod, as though contemplating serious advice, "I'll do my best to smile then."

Remus retaliated for the slight mocking with an elbow in the side as he asked, "So is it just the usual, or is there something specific that has you snooze grumpy?"

Sirius couldn't help but grin a little at his friend's oddly-phrased – but astute – observation. He sighed slightly, resigned to the fact that Remus would wheedle his problem out him anyway, and said, "No, just the usual, two months of family shit." He was quiet for a second and then added, "And I just know it's going to get worse - I'm turning seventeen next year, then it won't just be dinner and smiling at wankers, I'll be one of them."

Remus was the only one of his friends that he was willing to admit his dread of the future to; while James was, personality-wise, much more similar to Sirius, when it came to real problems he couldn't really understand, nor did he try to.

James was a rare type; he knew how good he had life, how easy everything was for him. He expected people's respect and top marks in his classes, he assumed that he would get the job he wanted when he left school, and knew that he would win the girl of his dreams (eventually). Fortunately he was grateful for all of it, and it was this redeeming factor that made him a decent person. It could have gone the other way completely - James certainly couldn't be called humble, but at least he recognised that his brilliant life had left gaps in his knowledge of the world. He was loyal, and would always listen if Sirius needed to rant about his family but he could never offer advice, because the conversation inevitably ended with him saying 'That's totally shit mate. I wish there was something I could do.' And of course there wasn't.

"You won't be one of them," Remus said. "Come on, you're not even sixteen til November; don't worry about that stuff yet." Sirius looked at him suspiciously; this statement from Remus, the biggest worrier on the planet, seemed a little dubious. Remus gave a little laugh and said, "Besides, you already are a wanker to most people, so what are you worried about?"

Sirius snorted and pushed the shorter boy away, "S'alright, you know me, first day is always the worst."

"Do you want anything?" James called through the open compartment door. "Either of you, if he's awake now?" he added, hearing the pair of them laughing.

"Told you I fooled them," Sirius said in an undertone, as Remus called back, "I'm good thanks James." Sirius was a little surprised by this; it was not often Remus would turn down sweets.

The werewolf gave a shrug at the querying look on Sirius's face and said, "My bag is still half full from my hospital hoard; I think it will actually see me through the summer."

James and Peter re-entered the compartment, arms loaded with colourful sweet wrappers. When James plonked back down on Sirius's other side, Sirius leaned over to pinch a Liquorice Wand that was dangling precariously from his friend's grip. James gave him a look and said indignantly, 'I just asked you if you wanted anything,'

"I didn't," Sirius smirked, "but I do want to take yours."

"Git," James mumbled, but allowed the thievery.

The rest of the journey passed quickly, as it always did for Sirius on the way home. Before he had even managed to get into a proper daydream of imaginary arguments with his mother where he was full of never-ending snappy retorts that left her mouth gaping as she struggled to think of a reply, the whistle was sounding and the steam engine began to slow. The mournful sound of excited squeals grew, barely covering the foreboding ruckus of students hoisting their trunks from the luggage racks and streaming out into the corridor. Sirius was momentarily distracted from his inner self-pity by the pretty face of Marlene McKinnon appearing at their compartment window.

Marlene was in Ravenclaw and was just finishing her sixth year b ut despite inter-house rivalry and her being two years ahead of him, Sirius had nursed a soft spot for her ever since she had knocked James out in his first Quidditch match for Gryffindor the previous year. Marlene seemed to be happy all the time - genuinely happy, something that was rare in teenage girls as opposed to the affected giggling of the masses that seemed to swarm up and down the Hogwarts corridors. She slid the door open and grinned at them all before addressing James, "So Potter, have you been roped into this fundraising thing at the Boneses too? End of August I think, in Cheshire."

James looked around at Marlene. "Not sure, we're going to be out of the country until the middle of August. My dad did say we had to be back then though, so maybe." He scrunched his nose. "Lame, I hate those things."

"You and me both," she said. "At least you won't be forced into a dress for the occasion."

James chuckled and said, "Yeah, but you'll be able to drink, so it's not all bad."

Marlene gave him a wide smile and said as though this had not occurred to her, "That is an excellent point, Potter!"

"Glad to help," he said.

She grinned once more as the students in the hall started to move, and flicked her short blond hair out of her face as she picked up her trunk by its end handle. "Right, have a good summer you lot," she said with a last cheerful look around the compartment.

Sirius concentrated very hard on willing away the heat in his cheeks as her eyes fell on him. "You too, McKinnon," he said. She nodded brightly before being swept along on the tide of eagerly departing students.

James snickered beside him and nudged his ribs, "You're dreaming, mate," he said in an undertone.

Sirius failed in his attempt to look casually confused. "I don't know what you mean," he said, busying himself with his trunk and keeping his face impassive.

Peter and Remus broke into traitorous giggles behind him. "She is the only girl you are ever polite to, isn't there a reason for that?" Remus asked with a restrained chortle that undermined his innocent tone.

"I just don't want to get hit in the face with her bat! You remember what she did to James." Sirius said haughtily, with a slightly vindictive look in James's direction.

"And yet," James said, apparently pondering thoughtfully rather than accusing, "you will happily tell Dearborn to get bent even though he gave you a black eye for being a smart arse last year?"

"Yeah … well," Sirius muttered pulling his trunk out into the corridor. The others laughed a little louder and Sirius grumbled in resignation, "Shut up."

The cheerful aura cast by McKinnon was enough to keep him smiling as he left the train - she really was a brilliant bird. It was a shame his wasn't the sort of old family that got invited to fundraising events at the Boneses in Cheshire. He had to settle for dreadfully dull dinner parties and the Shafiq girls, whose family proudly boasted its lack of muggle blood; while this endeared them to Sirius's mother, Sirius could only wonder when being part troll became acceptable to purebloods.

His pleasant little imagining - Marlene telling him it didn't matter that she was two years older and from infinity less evil family and snogging him anyway - was rudely interrupted by the cool, clipped voice of Walburga Black carrying to him across the platform.

'Sirius, don't dawdle,' she said. Sirius looked to see her standing impatiently with Regulus, his little brother, already off the train. His mother was wearing her usual uniform of dark, high-necked robes, and silver jewellery glinting at her throat; her black hair was pulled back tightly enough to account for the somewhat uncomfortable look on her face, though Sirius knew that look actually came from the unworthy riffraff she was being forced to share oxygen with or, possibly, it could also be his presence that caused her to grey eyes to narrow and lips to tighten.

Regulus was standing next to her with his shoulders straight and uniform looking smart and rumple-free and not at all like he had just spent five hours slouched on a train seat in it. Sirius had an odd flashing thought of Reg standing poker-stiff all the way from Hogsmeade just to keep his shirt in its freshly pressed condition, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. Regulus might be a little odd and a total suck-up but he was still a thirteen-year-old boy.

Sirius's little brother had just finished his third year, and was everything his mother had wanted in an heir: easy to mould, good-looking enough, and perfectly Slytherin. Unfortunately for Walburga, Sirius had had the audacity to be born first, Sirius with his never-ending stream of mischief and disrespect, and the nerve to allow himself to be housed in Gryffindor with all its brainless dirty heroes. Sirius knew his mother thought these things, because she liked to remind him regularly how difficult he had made her life. Clearly it was intentional, because of course every little boy wants nothing more than to have his mother hate him. He had arrived at Hogwarts perfectly willing to be sorted into Slytherin with his cousins, but the hat had changed everything; Sirius had gone to Gryffindor, a little excited to be proven different from the rest of the Blacks, even if he had been worried about disappointing his mother. Living with the Gryffindors had changed Sirius. Being surrounded by people who did things for the benefit of others, who you could take at their word, not having to constantly wonder if confiding in someone would come back to bite you, was all so foreign to him, foreign but wonderful. It made him realise that family wasn't everything, that he could rely on his friends to stand with him if the need arose. All his mother's talk of the Black name being the only thing he could trust, and blood being the only true stability left in the changing magical world seemed more and more foolish.

Sirius had basically stopped listening, and while his mother knew that, she had not given up yet, still searching for a way to show Sirius the appeal of being heir, and taking responsibility for the family name and the family goals. He would have to do it whether or not he wanted to, however, if he was unwilling it would be worse for just about everyone. Sirius, obviously, was very determined to never be a willing heir, unless it meant waiting until the whole lot of them were dead, and giving the family fortune to a muggleborn rights organisation. He smirked at the thought and his mother frowned – no smirking! – and then beckoned imperiously to him, looking pointedly at the line for the floo that would take them home. He had dawdled so much in getting off the train – no dawdling! – that the queue was quite short now, so thankfully he would not have to face being scrutinised by his mother in public for long.

"Good afternoon Mrs Black," piped up James's jaunty sing-song voice from beside him, and Sirius winced slightly. Every year, James insisted on a social interlude on the platform. Walburga of course would never be rude to James Potter - regardless of their political views, the Potters were an old family with a decent fortune and pure blood so Walburga would not be outwardly hostile. James found this very amusing, and couldn't help but try and annoy his mother to see how far he could push it, but then, Sirius supposed, that was something he understood quite well.

"Mr Potter," Sirius's mother said with a brisk nod, and James gave her the most ridiculously sycophantic smile Sirius had ever seen.

Sirius resisted rolling his eyes. "See ya James," Sirius said, half-wishing him away, but dreading his best friend's departure because then the school year really would be over.

James nodded politely and said cheerfully, "So nice to see you again," before he clapped Sirius on the shoulder and said, "Have a great summer mate, be sure to write."

As he watched James go, Sirius spied Remus and Peter watching from a distance, half concealed by a pillar; they would never dare to approach the sharp tempered Black matriarch, Peter because he was a little bit of a chicken and Remus because he much preferred being alive.

"Stand up straight," Regulus whispered imploringly before their mother's eyes returned to her two boys. Sirius shot his little brother a withering look but did as he suggested; he was not going to suffer the humiliation of being reprimanded in front of anybody from school.

Walburga dropped the sickles for use of the floo into the attendant's hand and urged her sons forward. Regulus went first, disappearing in the gust of roaring green flames. Sirius followed quickly as not to be alone with his mother for longer than necessary. He tucked his elbows in tightly as the cool emerald blaze surrounded him, and within a matter of disorientating spinning seconds he was tumbling out of the kitchen fireplace in the basement of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He got to his feet as fast as possible, and lunged towards the door in the hope of escaping to his bedroom before Walburga appeared.

"Sirius," Regulus said a little warningly, "just wait, she seems in a good mood, do you think you could try to keep it that way? We still have to get through tea, whether you run off now or not." His eyes were pleading and Sirius wondered why Regulus wanted Sirius out of trouble; he didn't normally care that much either way. "Just don't say anything, I'm sure –" but he fell silent because Walburga was now gracefully unfolding herself from the hearth.

Sirius stood straighter, thinking that Regulus was right, his mother did seem to be in a better mood than usual; perhaps if he just managed to keep his mouth shut he could have a pleasant summer. He scoffed inwardly at the idea of anything pleasant occurring inside the ancestral home of The Noble House of Black.

"Kreacher," Walburga said as she placed her handbag on the kitchen table and removed her town gloves.

CRACK

"Yes Mistress?" asked the deep croaking voice of the wrinkled house-elf after he popped into existence.

"Tea in the drawing room in fifteen minutes, after you have seen to the luggage. "

" Yes Mistress."

CRACK

Returning her attention to her sons Walburga said, "Go and change out of your uniforms, and meet me in the drawing room with your end of year results in a quarter of an hour." She looked Sirius up and down, "And comb and tie your hair back, Sirius. I do not want to look at you in such a state."

Sirius bit back the retort of the feeling's mutual he longed to utter and nodded, then turned on his heel to exit as quickly as he could. He couldn't believe it, there was no arguing yet, this not talking thing was a miracle. Now to get through tea. It shouldn't be too bad, he thought, his marks were all very high this year, so his mother couldn't complain about that, and the howlers he'd received in his first two years had been of such disruptive number and volume that Professor McGonagall had stopped informing the Black household when Sirius was caught breaking the rules. Having unsavoury phrases like Bloodtraitor and Shame of my flesh screeched across the Great Hall during breakfast was really no help to anyone, and as McGonagall had learnt, it didn't make Sirius behave any better anyway. One could argue that the extra detentions she set instead didn't inspire improvements either, but the main point was, his mother had no proof that he wasn't a model student.

Sirius was hopeful as he climbed the staircase to his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Perhaps this summer he wouldn't get his owl confiscated, or have his annual visit to Alphard cancelled, or any of the other things that made summer holidays remotely bearable. Maybe he would even be able to go and visit James when he got home, or meet the others in Diagon Alley before next term began. It wasn't like he had to admit to anyone if he behaved himself around his family, he thought, flopping back onto his stiffly made bed. He flung his arms out either side of his body and set about wrinkling up the starched covers in a small act of un-punishable rebellion.

There was a quick little familiar knock on his bedroom door, and Sirius sighed as he sat up, "What, Reg?"

The door was pushed open and his little brother came in. He looked nervous for a moment and then said, "Thanks for not making her angry."

'I didn't do it for you,' Sirius said with a laugh, as he moved from the bed to crouch down and open his trunk. 'Despite the evidence, I don't really like getting shouted at.'

Regulus gave him a little smile, "You like it a bit. But I'm glad anyway, I… um, failed Care of Magical Creatures… I know she'll be so angry with me, I'm just glad she's not already wound up over you."

Sirius felt his eyebrows shoot up in shock. "You failed? Regulus! How did that happen? Magical Creatures? That's the easiest subject there is, she's going to be furious! Remember when I only got seventy five per cent in Charms in second year? I thought the paper was going to start peeling from the walls, what is she going to do if you actually failed?"

"I know! That's what I mean, so please be good!" Regulus hung his head and mumbled, "Are your marks high? Do you think it will keep her happy? I mean, it's you that really matters, I'm just the back-up."

Sirius frowned. His brother always did that, brought up that Sirius was more important than him, like it was an excuse for something, not just twisting the knife to remind Sirius that as the 'spare' he would be allowed all the freedom Sirius could only imagine. He dug a pair of jeans from his trunk as he said shortly, "Lowest I got was an eighty nine and that was in Divination. I'm in the clear." Regulus looked relieved, but he didn't leave the room, still staring anxiously as Sirius hauled this school robes over his head and began to change. Sirius hesitated before unbuttoning his uniform trousers, "Er, you right Reg?" but his brother still stood there, twisting his hands, staring vaguely at Sirius and his trunk and the crumpled jeans Sirius had freed from his packing.

"Jeans?" Regulus said eventually. "Please, you know that will get her going."

Sirius gritted his teeth but didn't argue. His brother might be a pain in the arse but he had helped out Sirius quite regularly when he was trapped in his bedroom with no owl or any means of boredom reduction. He went over to the tall wardrobe that sat in the far corner of his bedroom and housed all the clothes Sirius owned but hated and never wore unless forced to by pain of death – or in this case, donned in an act of generous self-sacrifice. He pulled out a pair of grey woollen trousers and eyed them for a moment. Did he really care that much if Reg got in trouble?

It turned out he did, because ten minutes later he was following his nearly-trembling brother down the stairs, having to stop every few moments to jiggle about because he felt like the trousers were going to itch him to death. When they reached the door to the drawing room Regulus stopped and waited for Sirius to pass him; Sirius gave him an impatient look but he didn't budge, just stood there twisting the edge of the scroll of parchment that contained his end of year results and looking terrified.

Sirius huffed, "Merlin Reg, grow a pair," but stepped past and led the way through the door.

Walburga was already present in the long room, sitting in her customary winged armchair; her small silk-covered notebook was resting on the end table alongside the silver service Kreacher was pouring her tea from. This notebook was her written record of her sons' achievements. In it she recorded everything, the expected things like exam results and areas at which they excelled, but Sirius thought that she also she kept records of more private things - who their friends were, their weaknesses – things that she could use in her favour if necessary. One of Walburga's fine eyebrows crooked and her lips pursed as Sirius took a seat on the couch opposite her. He felt the familiar appraising stare run over him but there was nothing to criticize because Sirius had even combed his hair and tied it back as she had asked. His scalp still tingled from when he had wrenched the comb borrowed from Reg through the mess only minutes earlier.

Regulus sat beside Sirius on the couch and seemed to have gained some courage in the face of his fear because he smiled at Walburga and sat quite tall, though Sirius did notice his hands were clasped together rather tightly – an effort to keep them from shaking no doubt.

'Tea, Master Sirius?' Kreacher asked in his bullfrog's voice. Sirius nodded at the elf, still waiting for some kind of disparaging comment from his mother, but it was silent except for the sound of the tea pouring. "And you, master Regulus?"

"Thank you Kreacher," Reg said. His voice was quiet but calm, and Sirius was pleased that his brother wasn't a complete coward.

Walburga took a sip of her tea then held out her many-ringed hand. "Sirius? Your results please." He handed them over, and she said conversationally as she unrolled the parchment, "I'm pleased to have received no communication about your misbehaviour this term. I hope this means that you are taking your place in this family a little more seriously." Sirius couldn't answer that without saying something that would incriminate him, so he stayed silent as she gave a curt nod of approval at the parchment in her hand. "Adequate. The next year is of the utmost importance, Sirius; I expect a repeat of these in your O.W.L. results. You will not shame us any further." She picked up her notebook and quill and began to write, no doubt adding his adequate grades to the collection.

Sirius glowered at his knees. She would expect would she? The woman was deranged - the marks he had achieved this year equated to ten O utstanding O.W.L's - but he just nodded jerkily, thinking that at least the news of Regulus's failure would be landing on softened ears.

"And you Regulus, I had a very complimentary message from Professor Slughorn about your potions work. He is very impressed," Walburga said closing her book once more. "I told him that it was only to be expected." She bestowed upon Regulus the look that Sirius called 'Wally's smile', though it was nothing like a true smile, just a slightly fuller bottom lip and an almost indiscernible crinkling at the corner of her left eye. Walburga did, on occasion, smile properly at her second son, but never would such a thing happen while discussing a dire topic like school grades. She held out her hand for the next scroll. Regulus leaned forward to give it to her, with a brief flick of his eyes in Sirius's direction.

Sirius held his breath as his mother's piercing gaze flitted down the parchment, waiting for the explosion, but none came, Walburga just gave another nod at the page in front of her. She looked up at Regulus and said, "Mind you work harder in Care of Magical Creatures next year , your OWLs will be here before you know it, and we wouldn't want a repeat of this would we?"

"No Mother," Regulus said faintly.

"Very well," Walburga said, setting the scroll aside and picking up her tea cup again. "Now, we have guests coming for dinner; you have one hour until you are expected back here to greet them. Please make sure you are dressed appropriately."

Sirius gave another nod, wanting nothing more than to be away from the woman and her double standards. He got to his feet and left Regulus drinking his tea while their mother added to her book and commented on his high Charms result.

As Sirius trudged back up through the house in his scratchy torture trousers he couldn't help the muttered grumblings leaving him. Why was it him? Regulus made such a better heir than he did. Regulus wanted to be doted on and adored by all the family, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to disappear. He didn't know why his brain worked differently from the rest of them, why he couldn't agree with them that pure was the only way forward for wizardkind - well, he did know why, it was because it was total rubbish, but he couldn't explain why he thought that and none of the rest of them did. He and Reg had had the same tutors, the same lessons, and the same dreary lecture-filled dinners, and yet Sirius had always questioned what was so bad about muggles. Every muggle he had encountered had been very little different to wizards, just people, and Sirius thought probably smarter people because they didn't force everyone to wear robes every time they left the house. As he twitched his leg in the tormenting trousers, he bet they didn't wear wool in June either. "Clever muggles," he muttered as he climbed the stairs to the third floor.

"Is that you scuffing up the carpet out there, Sirius?" called the voice of his Grandfather Pollux as he passed the library door.

"Yes Grandfather," Sirius said poking his head into the room.

His grandfather was Sirius's least-hated member of the house – well, least-hated after Regulus who Sirius was always very annoyed with but didn't actually hate. Pollux on the other hand wasn't annoying; in fact he was almost nice, if you ignored his financial support of highly questionable, bigoted maniacs and his hatred of anything less than pureblood wizard. He tolerated Sirius and his misdemeanours much more easily than anybody else, though Sirius wasn't sure that he believed the family friends who commented on how alike the two of them were. He also thought that Pollux saw the big picture most of the time, and what he cared about most was a strong family line and that The House of Black continued to be an influencing force after he was gone. He was not particularly bothered that Sirius was in Gryffindor, or that he had unsavoury friends, as long in the end his grandson made the proper decisions: marry a pureblood, provide heirs, and make wise business investments. That was all Sirius had to do, the rest of his life was of no concern to Pollux. But of course it really was no concern, he'd never actually interfere in his domineering daughter's raising of his grandson – that would be too much to hope for.

"My, don't you look smart," he said with a shrewd glint in his eye. "What have you done now?"

"Nothing," Sirius said, pushing the door shut behind him before he sat in the empty chair in front of Pollux's desk. "Regulus advised me that perhaps if I follow instructions we could have a pleasant summer."

"Well, how insightful of him," Pollux said ironically, returning his gaze to his ledger he had been scribbling in previously. "I have never heard of such an unorthodox concept." Sirius nodded even though his grandfather wasn't looking at him. Pollux shut the heavy leather covered book and looked up again, "I wondered if you were already dressed for dinner this evening; your mother has been planning for weeks."

"Oh no!" Sirius grimaced; that couldn't be any kind of good. "Really? Who's coming?"

"The Selwyns, and their daughter Cecilia. I think you know her from school?"

"Yes," Sirius said distastefully, thinking of the fifth year Slytherin girl, an 'heir hunter' as James like to call them, girls determined to get themselves married into gold and high social standing. They were all terrifying beasts as far as Sirius was concerned, as he was unfortunately high on their list of desirable prey. "She is vain, vacant and cruel," Sirius elaborated.

"I am assuming that means she is attractive?" Pollux questioned. "She must have some redeeming feature or your mother would not consider her worth the effort, no matter her blood."

"Before she opens her mouth perhaps" Sirius said, not mentioning that vacant and cruel might suit his mother's taste all too well. "Mother's not – " he swallowed, trying to rid his throat of the burning feeling that had sprung up as a horrible thought crossed his mind, "not match making is she?" he forced out, dreading the answer.

Pollux gave him an almost-apologetic look. "I believe that is what she has in mind eventually, although it is only early days, still eighteen months until you can get married. Of course it would be much more seemly if you were finished with school before the duties of husband are added to those of heir."

"Seemly?" Sirius stuttered weakly, "but I'm fifteen, I don't –,"

"Sirius. Just humour your mother," Pollux interrupted. "Perhaps if you talk young Cecilia's ear off, she won't be able to get a word in, and you can just enjoy the view?"

Sirius nearly laughed despite his horror. Grandfather Pollux was an odd man. "Where's father?" he asked, suddenly realising that Orion's desk at the far end of the room was unoccupied. Only a towering stack of books and some curiously sinister-looking bronze instruments sat on the surface; it was quite unusual for Orion to leave the library for anything other than meals or sleep, and Sirius wondered if this meant his father's paranoia was decreasing.

"He has gone to pick up a book from Flourish and Blotts." Pollux said slightly disparagingly, "He didn't trust it to be sent by owl; he mentioned something about undesirables controlling the post. I swear one day we are all going to wake up trapped in this house due to your father's latest attempt to keep us 'secure'."

"Right," Sirius said, not wanting to give an opinion on Orion's mistrust of post owls. It really was no wonder that Sirius was a little bit unusual: his Father was obsessed with security, to the point of insanity, and his father's father Arcturus lived in France because he disliked rain, and English people, despite this fact his wife was English and lived in Nearly-always-wet Norfolk. And Pollux had just told him it was okay if a girl is an idiot as long as she is pretty, which might explain a lot in his family tree. Good grief, was there any hope for him at all?

A/N: There is much more of this to come, so let me know what you think. xx