The warm scent of roasted chicken, herbs, and freshly baked bread filled the Highlands Manor kitchen. Lily moved gracefully between the counters, her sleeves rolled up as she chopped vegetables with swift precision. America Chavez leaned against the counter, stirring a bubbling cauldron of stew with one hand while casually munching on a slice of apple with the other.
Sirius, however, was anything but relaxed. He sat slouched at the kitchen table, his arms crossed, glaring at Lily with the intensity of a man who had just swallowed a lemon.
"If she called you for tea, that's your business," Sirius began, his tone sharp, "but why—why, Lily—did you have to bring her here of all places?"
Lily didn't even flinch. She calmly dropped a pinch of spice into the pan and turned to face him, her expression cool but firm.
"She's your cousin, Sirius. And as Lord Black, she is your responsibility whether you like it or not."
Sirius scoffed, slamming his palm down on the table hard enough to rattle the spoons.
"True. She's my cousin. But that doesn't mean I want Harry mingling with the spawn of Lucius Malfoy. The kid may only be ten, but I don't want Draco anywhere near Harry. I won't risk Harry being poisoned by that family's arrogance."
Lily placed the knife she was holding flat against the cutting board and leaned forward. Her voice was steady, but there was steel behind it.
"Don't bring Harry into this, Sirius. We both know Harry can't be influenced by you, by me, or anyone else. He's stubborn, he's independent, and he makes up his own mind. This isn't about Harry—it's about you. You don't want to deal with Narcissa. But like it or not, you will have to deal with people you despise. That's the cost of carrying the Black name again."
America, who had been quietly listening, smirked and tapped her spoon against the cauldron.
"She's got a point, Black. I mean, you strut around this manor like you're the king of it all. But being 'Lord Black' isn't just about enjoying the title and flashing the ring. Sometimes it means putting up with family drama."
Sirius shot her a glare. "Stay out of this, Chavez."
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying. You can't pick and choose which parts of responsibility you want. If Draco and his mother need help, and if Narcissa actually came crawling to you, then that means she's desperate. And desperate people can be dangerous if ignored."
Sirius ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. He hated being cornered by logic, and he hated even more the thought of opening his doors to a Malfoy.
"Desperate or not, Narcissa has always been cold, manipulative, and cruel. I grew up around her. I know her better than any of you. She'll use Harry as a pawn the moment she gets the chance."
Lily walked closer, resting a hand on the table near him. "Then watch her closely. Set boundaries. But don't shut the door entirely. If you do, you're not punishing Narcissa—you're punishing Draco. He's just a boy, Sirius. The same age as Harry. And however much you hate Lucius, Draco didn't choose his father."
Sirius leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He muttered, almost to himself:
"James would've hexed me for even considering this. He hated Lucius more than I did."
Lily smiled faintly. "James also had a good heart. He would've given a child a chance, even if that child had the worst of parents. Don't you dare forget that."
There was silence for a long moment, broken only by the bubbling of the stew. Sirius sighed deeply, his posture slumping.
"Fine," he finally said, his voice heavy. "Invite them. But if Narcissa tries one trick, one word against Harry, I swear I'll throw both mother and son out myself."
Lily smirked knowingly. "That's all I ask."
America grinned. "Well, this is going to be one hell of a dinner party."
The front doors of Highlands Manor creaked open, letting in the cool Scottish breeze along with Hermione Granger, whose arms were overloaded with books stacked nearly up to her chin. Harry followed close behind her, his nose buried in a thick tome of Asgardian runes, reading even as they stepped into the hall.
Hermione lowered her pile onto the polished oak table with a relieved sigh.
"Hello, Sirius," she greeted quickly, brushing a stray curl out of her face. "Sorry, I've brought these back—I finished them all already."
Sirius chuckled from the armchair by the fire, his boots up on the table in his usual careless fashion.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione, you're going to turn into a walking library one day. We won't need shelves—we'll just consult you."
Hermione flushed, though a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "That wouldn't be so bad." And with that, she gathered the fresh stack she had requested earlier and went straight for the library.
Harry, without looking up from his book, smirked. "She's probably memorized half the manor by now."
Sirius's laughter faded into a more somber tone as he remembered something. "Do you know, Harry, there was a time we thought we'd lost her?"
Harry finally closed his book and glanced up. "You mean the Boggart?"
Sirius nodded grimly, his voice lowering.
It had happened during one of their massive clean-ups of the old Black family properties. Dust and cobwebs hung thick in the air, and Hermione had been the first to pry open an old trunk. The moment the lid creaked, a ripple of dark magic escaped, and suddenly a shape shifted out of the shadows.
A tall man in a white coat appeared, glasses perched on his nose, carrying a cold steel instrument in one hand. His voice was clinical, cruelly matter-of-fact.
"You have an eye disease, Miss Granger. Within a year, you will lose your sight. No more reading, no more books."
Hermione froze. The books she clutched slipped from her arms and scattered across the floor. Her face drained of all color, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
"N-no… no, you're lying…" she whispered, clutching at her eyes as if to shield them.
The Boggart doctor stepped closer, his voice cold and merciless:
"Blindness. No more words, no more pages. You'll never read again."
Hermione screamed, backing against the wall, utterly paralyzed by the image of her greatest fear.
Harry had been across the room, but the moment he heard her cry, something inside him snapped. Without hesitation, he raised his hand. Sparks of blue-white electricity danced across his fingertips. With a sharp flick, a crackling bolt of lightning shot out, striking the Boggart square in the chest.
The creature convulsed, morphing rapidly between forms before it burst into smoke with a shriek, retreating back into the trunk.
Hermione collapsed onto her knees, shaking uncontrollably, her hands still covering her eyes.
Harry dropped beside her, gripping her shoulders firmly.
"Hermione, it's gone. Look at me—it's not real. You'll never lose your books. Not while I'm around."
She looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, her lips trembling. "But… but what if—?"
Harry cut her off with a fierce shake of his head. "No 'what if.' You're safe. I promise."
Back in the kitchen, Sirius shook his head as he recalled it.
"She was absolutely shattered after that. Poor girl. For her, blindness was worse than death. It was like watching her whole world collapse in an instant."
Harry's expression softened. "That's why I killed it outright. I didn't want her to suffer through it longer. Maybe… maybe I was supposed to laugh at it, cast Riddikulus or something, but I couldn't. I just… acted."
Sirius gave a small smile. "You acted like James would've. He always blasted first, asked questions later when it came to protecting his friends."
Hermione's voice suddenly rang from the library, muffled but indignant:
"I heard that! I could have handled it myself—eventually!"
Harry chuckled, calling back, "Sure you could've, but you'll forgive me for not wanting to test that theory!"
Sirius barked a laugh, the tension broken, but in his eyes lingered a glimmer of pride.
The emerald flames flared in the fireplace of Highlands Manor, and out stepped Narcissa Malfoy, regal as ever, her platinum hair perfectly styled, her robes trimmed with silver embroidery. Close behind her came Draco, his pale face full of haughty pride, though his grey eyes darted nervously around the grand living room.
Waiting for them were Lily and Sirius Black, already standing side by side.
"Narcissa," Sirius greeted, his tone civil but clipped. "Cousin."
Narcissa gave a graceful nod, her every word layered in formal courtly tone.
"Lord Black," she said softly. "Lady Black. Thank you for receiving me."
Lily smiled warmly, but Sirius's lips twitched in irritation at the excessive formality. He had known Narcissa since childhood, and her elegance had always felt suffocating to him.
"I come here… not merely as your cousin," Narcissa began, her hands folded neatly in front of her, "but as a woman desperate for protection. With Lucius's disappearance, my household is left terribly exposed. His political reach and power shielded us from the vultures circling in the Ministry. Without him… Draco and I are most vulnerable."
Sirius folded his arms. "You know as well as I do, Narcissa, I've no ties left in the Ministry. I've only just returned to the wizarding world myself. Whatever happened to Lucius is still a mystery—and not one I intend to solve."
Draco glanced sharply at Harry, who was lounging in an armchair nearby with Hermione sitting cross-legged beside him, scribbling notes on a parchment. The boy's jaw tightened.
Narcissa pressed forward, ignoring Sirius's refusal.
"Perhaps. But the old families—Burkes, Notts, and others—have approached me with… unsavory intentions. Some claim Lucius borrowed vast sums of gold. Others hint that my household is now unanchored and ripe for manipulation. I will not allow Draco or myself to become pawns. Sirius, as head of the Black family, you are honor-bound to protect me."
Sirius scowled but said nothing. Lily, however, gently intervened.
"She's right, Sirius. Family or not, she carries the Black blood. You may dislike her, but responsibility isn't something one casts aside."
Sirius muttered under his breath. "I don't want Harry tangled with Malfoy business…"
While the adults spoke, Draco's sharp voice cut across the room.
"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" he asked suddenly, eyes fixed on Harry.
Harry looked up calmly, his green eyes meeting Draco's with a steady gaze. "Yes."
Draco's face twisted. "And you're friends with… her?" He pointed a finger at Hermione, who stiffened.
Harry's voice was level, but firm. "Her name is Hermione Granger."
Draco sneered. "She's a—"
"Careful," Harry interrupted coldly, his eyes flashing.
Hermione, however, didn't give Draco the satisfaction of seeing her upset. Instead, she smirked and leaned forward.
"Funny," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "for someone who claims to be pureblood royalty, I know twice as much magic as you do. Would you like me to explain the twelve uses of dragon's blood, Malfoy? Or the theory behind advance transmutation?"
Draco's face turned scarlet. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly out of his depth.
Narcissa quickly placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. "That's enough."
Harry's lips curved into the faintest smirk as Draco glared daggers at Hermione.
After much back and forth, Narcissa lowered her gaze slightly, breaking her perfect composure.
"I ask only this: do not abandon me. If Lucius does not return, the Malfoy name may fall into ruin. And though you despise him, Sirius, Draco is still of your bloodline."
Sirius exhaled heavily, then finally nodded.
"Fine. You'll have my word. But understand this, Narcissa—I'll help you because you're family, not because of Lucius. Don't expect me to mourn him."
Relief flickered across Narcissa's features.
"That is all I ask."
With that, she inclined her head and led Draco back toward the fireplace. Draco spared one last bitter glare at Hermione before vanishing in the emerald flames.
Sirius groaned and rubbed his temples. "Merlin help me. Now the Malfoys will be turning up like bad pennies…"
Harry only smirked at Hermione.
"Nice work putting Little Malfoy in his place."
Hermione shrugged. "Knowledge is power, Harry. He should learn that early."
Sirius chuckled despite himself. "She's definitely scarier than I ever was."
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