"Drink up, losers!" Angelina Johnson smirked victoriously as the tiny red ball fell neatly into the cup of beer on Oliver Wood and Fred Weasley's side of the table. She high fived her partner George as the two boys obediently accepted defeat and drank a cup each.
The party in the Common Room was wilder than Harry had imagined. The first and second years had been all but herded off to bed right after dinner while the third-year students had managed to convince the prefects to let them stay. All the third- and fourth-year students had been strictly warned to stay away from the beer and Firewhiskey.
Fred and George had threatened to lock their older brother and Head boy Percy in the broom cupboard if he didn't keep his trap shut about the party. That night belonged to the Gryffindor quidditch team.
It wasn't just the Gryffindors in the Common Room though. Many had managed to sneak their friends from the other houses inside as well. In a dark corner, Alicia Spinnet was snogging Lee Jordan while Ravenclaw's Roger Davies and Katie Bell had occupied another inconspicuous alcove.
"Come on George, just one drink," Ron pleaded with his brother for the umpteenth time.
"Don't even think about it, Ronniekins," George replied in an uncharacteristically serious tone. "Anything funny happens and mum will kill me. You can have a go next year. Now shoo before I tell dear old Percy."
Harry snorted. He was content to simply watch the others make a fool of themselves. Never had he ever imagined the day he'd find Draco Malfoy in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by the scarlet wallpaper but totally at ease. Yet there he was, lounging on one of the sofas and engaged in a rather animated conversation with Hermione.
Those two were spending an awful lot of time together off late.
By the fireplace, Blaise appeared to have befriended Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan surprisingly quick. Honestly by this point, Harry would be more surprised if the Italian didn't get along with anyone.
"Enjoying yourself, Potter?"
He turned to see Nott standing next to him, hands tucked into his pocket. He hadn't heard him approach. He should probably blame that on the magically charmed music raging in the room. "Not one to party, are we?"
"You're one to talk," Harry shot back.
"If I wanted to, I could beat all four of them in a drinking game," Nott stated, jerking his chin towards the table where the older students were playing.
Harry scoffed. "You wish."
"Yeah, I do. Can't stand the taste of beer. Tried it during Christmas... hated it. I'm more of the firewhiskey sort, at least when my Mum allows it."
Harry snorted. He himself hadn't acquired a taste for any of the spirits so far. He was perfectly content with butter beer and pumpkin juice.
"By the way, that was a move worthy of a true Slytherin today, Potter."
"What was?"
"Leading Diggory right into the stands? If you weren't almost idiotically brave, I'd say your talents were wasted in Gryffindor."
"Thanks... I guess?"
"You're welcome." Nott's mouth curled into a slightly crooked smile.
"So are you coming with the rest of us to the grounds in the morning? Ron, Draco, Fred, George, Angelina, Oliver, Blaise, Seamus— I've promised them all a go on the Firebolt. You can take it for a spin too if you like."
"Blaise mentioned it earlier this evening. As kind as your offer is, Potter, I'm going to have to decline. I possess many skills but I'm afraid flying isn't one of them. I prefer having both feet firmly on the ground." Nott smirked at Harry lazily and for a minute, Harry wanted to ask if all purebloods were taught to master that particular smirk at Pureblood Primary School.
Draco, Regulus, Nott... even Sirius. It suited them perfectly.
"You're afraid of flying?" He asked instead, his mouth involuntarily curving into a grin.
"Hardly. There are far more useful talents that demand my attention. I'll see you around, Potter.
"Liar," Harry goaded, his grin growing wider.
"I'm not!"
"So prove it. Come to the grounds with the rest of us common folk."
The other boy narrowed his eyes at Harry. "Perhaps. We'll see, Potter. We'll see."
"You know, when I said you could use my office floo for emergencies, this isn't what I had in mind," Remus commented wryly. "And that's my chair."
Sirius smirked, propping his legs up on the desk just to further irritate his best friend. He lounged in the chair, tipping it backwards. "Harry tells me you've been a bit... mopey off late."
That boy was certainly loyal to Sirius.
"I most certainly have not. I have a class to teach in half an hour, Padfoot and last I checked, you've got a department to lead. So why don't you go and terrorise those new recruits instead?" Remus commented.
"Oh I intend to do precisely just that. Does your mood have anything to do with Dora's month-long holiday to the United States?"
Remus was silent for a minute. "We haven't talked in a while," he admitted softly and no, despite what Sirius said, he wasn't sulking.
Remus Lupin did not sulk, and he most certainly didn't mope. Not even when his girlfriend whom he loved very much was on holiday with her father and his family.
She'd left a couple of days ago and they hadn't been able to talk much. Owl post took far too long and the floo network was downright pathetic. He missed her something fierce and was perhaps a little... glum.
He sighed. "Maybe you're ri—"
The large red ball came soaring in through the open window and missed Remus's head by a hair's breadth, crashing into the bookshelf by the door. The glass shattered and the impact resulted in the books tumbling to the floor in one big heap.
The quaffle was followed by a certain raven-haired boy who shot Remus a sheepish grin as he dismounted.
"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled innocently.
Any reprimand Remus had ready melted away at those dangerous puppy eyes the boy directed towards him. Rolling his eyes, he waved his wand and cleared the mess. "You get one free pass," he warned the boy as sternly as he could which wasn't very effective after all.
"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at his godson.
"Sprout cancelled. Neville heard she's down with something, so we got the morning off. I promised my friends a go on the Firebolt so that's what we were up to. Aren't you supposed to be at work, scaring the newbies?" Harry countered, grinning mischievously.
"That's precisely what I said," Remus quipped.
"You're a little rascal," Sirius pointed a finger at Harry as he stood. "And you, Lupin are just plain awful." The boy simply offered Sirius an adorable smile and a cheery wave before he collected the quaffle, mounted the broom and zoomed out of the window.
"Contrary to your belief, I'm here on official family business, Moony. I came here to make sure you weren't going to try and get out of attending the dinner at Andromeda's this Saturday."
"I would come b—"
"Dora warned me you'd try and get out of it. Don't even think about it. Why are you so nervous? It's just us cousins, Harry and Draco got the weekend off and even Narcissa is coming thi—"
When Sirius stopped abruptly, Remus knew that his expression had given him away and he felt the heat rushing up his face, all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Narcissa? That's who you're afraid of? The same Narcissa who spent ten minutes chastising the television at Andi's place because she thought they were rude portraits who didn't answer her? The same Narcissa who hexed the telephone when it rang because she thought it was a cursed object? Hell Andromeda has to magic-proof the place every time she shows up, just so she won't blow up the damn washing machine... again. That Narcissa?"
Remus felt his face heating up. "Well it sounds silly when you put it that way, but Mrs. Malfoy can be at times... quite intimidating."
"Intimidating? And please, please don't tell me you still call her Mrs. Malfoy!" It sounded ridiculous to Sirius, but Remus knew better and he was certain that there were many others who would agree.
Narcissa Malfoy was terrifying. He'd only met her on two other occasions when he had been with Dora to her parents' house for dinner. She hadn't said much to him other than a formal greeting, but her sharp grey eyes had judged him from across the table, probably deeming him unworthy of her niece.
"Sirius, I—"
"A bottle of Ogden's 1970 should do the trick. Both the sisters love it. I'll see you in the evening. That's not a request," Sirius asserted in a tone not very different from the one he sometimes used with his aurors.
"Yes, your Grace," Remus snarked with a low bow.
"Attaboy. Now as you and Harry so rudely pointed out, I'll get back to work."
"Don't terrorise the new recruits too much."
"I solemnly swear to be an absolute saint."
About a year ago, the Auror Department had thrown a retirement party for Alastor Moody.
Nearly all people of significance has attended: Aurors, Ministry officials, trainees and even members of the DMLE. Whilst the new recruits and trainees had ardently thanked the man for everything that he'd taught them, they'd had their own little celebration that night in The Leaky Cauldron.
Good riddance, they'd decreed. The poor souls hadn't known what lay in wait when they'd joined the academy.
Alastor Moody was an absolute demon. A fantastic Auror but a merciless mentor all the same. Positively thrilled about the clemency they would now receive from whoever replaced him, the trainees had downed one too many of the Cauldron's famed Flaming Sparkgut shots that night.
Because surely, surely there couldn't be anyone worse than him. Right?
Oh how wrong they were.
"Wand away, Davids ! This is Krav Maga, not the bloody waltz!"
"Simmons, your left flank's exposed! Boom! You're dead! No you can't argue, you're dead!"
"Tasha, that leg sweep needs work. You're small, use that to your advantage! Get in there!"
"Allen! Samuel! This is the third time this month! All amorous advances towards one another are to be left outside the training room. Where are we? Inside! Look alive!"
In less than a fortnight, that joy had turned to groans, aches, curses and even the stray whimper. For if Alastor Moody had been a demon, Sylvia Wolfe was the very devil incarnate.
Fifty-two years old and five foot three with short salt and pepper hair swept to a side, she was the most terrifying being the poor trainees had ever encountered.
"Madam Wolfe, if I may—"
"No you may not, Griffin. You've died three times already. You may get on the mat. Nichols, you're up against him. Again!"
The burly man damn near whimpered, still cradling his sore shoulder and faced his opponent.
"Glad to see you haven't gone soft."
The woman whipped around at the sound of the voice. "I'll be damned. If it isn't Sirius Black."
All activity paused at the mention of his name and everyone's eyes turned towards entryway. Twenty-seven pairs of eyes followed the two people who'd just entered the room. Sirius Black and Amelia Bones.
Hushed whispers broke out amongst the trainees as everyone eyed the duo with a combination of awe, curiosity and even a little fear.
"Everybody take five. We've got an interesting session ahead of us."
"Madam Bones, Auror Black. It's refreshing to see the two people I dislike the least in this damned place."
"Careful now, Madam Wolfe, lest your students think you do have a heart."
The woman shot him a glare that would've sent lesser men running. "Don't insult me, Black."
Everyone was still looking at them, Sirius and Amelia, two of the highest-ranking officers in the Ministry, each having built a reputation that was formidable in its own way.
"I take it that you two are here for the biannual inspection?" She asked, as they walked around the room, some curious eyes still tracking their movement. "Scrimgeour always seemed to loathe this part of the job."
"Honestly, I'm looking forward to it," Sirius admitted. Given how little progress they had made so far with Bellatrix Lestrange, this inspection had come as a blessing in disguise. It would be a brief but refreshing reprieve.
"Don't go getting your hopes up. They're nowhere near ready yet. Not that we can really blame them," she added as an afterthought.
"None of them have known war," Amelia commented and the realisation descended upon them like a dark cloud. "I'd like to talk to them one by one."
"Very well. And how do you want to do this, Black? Scrimgeour usually observed, but knowing you, you'll probably want to do something else."
"You know me too well. Do you mind if I assess them myself? It's Krav Maga today, isn't it?"
Madam Wolfe's answering smirk was nothing short of wicked. "You've just made my day. Poor souls don't know what they're in for." She turned to the trainees scattered around the room. "Class! Gather around. I want two groups! Half of you will go and speak with Madam Bones and the other half will form a circle. The groups switch after an hour."
When the recruits had done as told, Madam Wolfe turned to Sirius. "Auror Black, they're all yours."
The students had formed a loose circle around the mat laid in the centre of the room.
Sirius shrugged out of his blazer and loosened his tie before pulling it over his head. He set them aside neatly and then rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, exposing swirling tattoos curving around muscular forearms.
A young woman in the back nearly swooned.
Easily shifting from friendly colleague to formidable Head Auror, Sirius allowed himself the barest smirk, the one that never boded well for the people on the other side.
He crooked a finger at two students in the front row. "You two. On the mat."
"I could've sworn the young man with the green hair is plotting your gruesome death in multiple ways, each more creative than the last." Amelia remarked to Sirius once the trainees had started to leave.
Sirius snickered as he redid his tie. "That means I'm doing my job right."
"It also means they'll hate me a little less now," Madam Wolfe declared, almost disappointed at the prospect.
Sixty minutes was all it had taken to reduce twenty-seven trainees to a whimpering, whinging mess. Most of them didn't even bother hiding the dirty looks they tossed in Sirius' direction as they left, massaging aching shoulders and sore wrists.
"What's your best one this week?" Sirius asked the brunette, tugging his blazer back over his shoulders.
Amelia tilted her head to a side and narrowed her eyes in thought. "I believe Mr. Daniels called me the Louboutin Terror which I find quite upsetting because my poor shoes have done nothing wrong." In emphasis, she tapped her navy stiletto against the floor. "What about you?"
"Only yesterday I found out they call me TCG which stands for The Commander Grim. Hardly the most innovative one so far."
"You sound like the villain in a children's story book," Amelia smirked. "So I win."
"You sound like a hurricane that strikes quaint little coastal towns for sport. I deserve this one."
"I think that's unjust since you're basically—
"That's enough you two!" Madam Wolfe glanced between the bickering duo for a moment too long, one eyebrow arched in curiosity before she crossed her arms. "Care to tell me what's this about?"
"It's a running bet," Sirius explained. "As you're well aware, we've each got a famous reputation, although I think we can all agree I'm particularly infamous. A few months ago we discovered that our subordinates can be quite creative with nicknames for their respective bosses."
"Each week we see which one of us received the more creative insult. The competition's been going on for nearly six months and we will declare the winner at the end of next month."
"Who's in the lead?"
"I am," Sirius declared, looking far too pleased.
"How lovely," the older woman remarked dryly. "If anything, I am the one who's suffered an injustice. I torment those rascals five days a week and the best they can come up with is the big bad wolf. It's like they're not even trying."
"Well since both of you sound like kids' villains, I'm taking the win," Amelia stated. "That's 34-32. Watch out, Black."
"And here I thought you starting to warm up to me, Bones."
"Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Alright, alright," Madam Wolfe snapped, although she was struggling to suppress her own smile. "If any trainee walks in here and sees that I'm actually capable of occasional happy human emotion, I'll be forced to assign extra training just to salvage my honour. Now if you both will excuse me."
"I'll see you and Gregory on Saturday," Amelia nodded at Madam Wolfe.
"What's on Saturday?" Sirius asked as they walked back to the elevator.
"It's Jonathan Clearwater's retirement party. I took it upon myself to plan the event."
Sirius frowned at the woman. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but only recently, you described him to be a pompous, misogynistic dung beetle. Now you're going out of your way give this beetle the perfect farewell?"
"It was either this or dinner with my mother. I picked the lesser evil. I love her, truly I do. But mothers can be tenacious creatures, Sirius. Especially when they're navigating the matchmaking labyrinth for their workaholic daughters."
Sirius cracked a smile at that. "I'll have you know that an older sister can be just as daunting. Especially when there's two of them. Luckily for me, their current prey is my dear baby brother. No wonder he's dreading the upcoming family dinner," Sirius cheered, positively thrilled.
He wasn't quite sure how or why his cousins had left him alone, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Glad to hear at least one of us will be enjoying their Saturday evening." Amelia sounded anything but glad. "Besides, I'm not doing much of the work. Julian was more than happy to take over," she remarked, referring to her meticulous assistant. "I allowed him, as long as he let Ralph do the catering."
Sirius smirked at the woman. "So you did like the pizza that night."
Amelia rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "I wasn't going to give you a chance to be smug about it. Arrogance doesn't look good on you, Black."
"I disagree. Everything looks enviably good on me."
The Tonks' residence was a beautiful contemporary style structure with clean lines and textures. A stark contrast to the tastefully carved ornamental interiors in most properties owned by the Blacks.
Then again, almost everything Andromeda Tonks had ever done was a subconscious act of rebellion towards her prejudiced family.
Narcissa was the first to arrive. Dressed to the nines per usual, she let herself in. "Evening, Cissa," Andromeda pulled the younger woman into a hug.
As children, none of them had been particularly of the touchy-feely sort. But that changed once Nymphadora was born.
"You're early."
"Nonsense. The others are simply late."
Right on cue, there was a knock on the door.
It was Remus. She opened the door to let the man in. "Good evening, Andromeda."
"I thought we agreed you'd call me Andi, Remus," she chided before her eyes zeroed in on the distinctly bottle shaped package tucked under his arm. "I see you come bearing gifts."
"You've caught me." He took the bottle out of the wrapping and handed it to her.
Andromeda's eyes widened when she read the label.
Ogden's Old, 1970.
"Remus, you charmer! Remember this, Cissa?"
"We used to sneak away during the night and sit by the lake and drink until the sun came up."
"I remember you being quite the lightweight," Andromeda teased.
"Hush now." Narcissa turned to Remus. "Thank you for this. It brings back fond memories."
"I know."
"You do?"
Remus' smile turned bashful. "Sirius might've given me the idea."
"Of course he did."
Andromeda was pleased to note that her daughter's boyfriend actually managed more than a few sentences worth conversation with Narcissa. A marked improvement from the manner in which he'd previously bumbled and rambled.
Sirius and Regulus arrived sometime after that, along with the boys. Harry and Draco had flooed to Black Manor and apparated to the edge of the property with the two men.
She had given her house elf the evening off after assuring and reassuring the poor thing that she wasn't freeing her.
They laid the table together. Regulus carried the plates while Remus helped with the glasses. Sirius and Harry carried the dishes and even Draco pitched in with the cutlery.
Andromeda shot her younger sister a disapproving look. The other woman shrugged elegantly but didn't move from her spot.
"Reg, remember that friend I was telling you about? Her sister is—"
"Did you hear that? I think Sirius is calling me."
Andromeda shook her head. One of these days, she was going to get that boy to listen.
It was the first time they had all gathered this way since Christmas. With Ted and Dora away, Andromeda had feared she would go mad if she didn't have anything to do. Hence the dinner.
The food was lovely, the company even better.
Halfway through, Remus took it upon himself to fill everyone's glasses. Even Harry and Draco were allowed a small quantity of whiskey.
He returned to his spot and gently clinked his glass to get everyone's attention.
"I'd like to propose a toast, if it's alright."
Sirius whooped and slapped Remus on the back with enough force that the man stumbled forward.
"Of course, Remus," Andromeda smiled warmly at the man. She would not lie. In the beginning, she hadn't quite approved of his relationship with her daughter. He was a good deal older than Dora and until recently, he had not been well employed either.
But after actually seeing them together, she realised how much he loved her and vice versa. That alone had been sufficient to erase any doubts she might have had regarding the sincerity of his intentions.
"I know I don't say this very often, but I am so grateful to know each and every one of you. I never thought I could have this, any of this," he gestured around the table with his free hand. "Yet here I am today."
"We wouldn't have it any other way, mate. You're family." Sirius slightly raised his glass towards the other man.
An odd look crossed Remus' expression before it cleared, and he raised his glass and looked towards all the members at the table.
"To family."
"To family," everyone replied.
They all drank to that.
"That being said, I'm truly surprised, shocked if I'm being honest."
"Yes, we ge—"
"How easily you accepted a filthy, low born half-breed into your circle. A blatant disrespect to everything our family has ever believed in. The others I can understand."
Remus looked straight at Narcissa and smiled. It was a chilling, humourless thing.
Nothing at all like Remus Lupin.
"I expected more from you, little sister."
To family indeed.
*Cackles in dementor*
Don't kill me just yet! Sorry (not sorry) about the cliff-hanger.
Here's to me hoping you enjoyed this chapter and are anticipating the next one well enough that you won't be plotting creative ways to kill me.
Side note, can you pick out the subtle instances in the chapter where I hinted that Remus wasn't actually Remus at all? There's about 3 of them.
One more question: any guesses why this chapter is called Sundown?
Happy holidays!