Chapter 287: Chapter 287: More Than an Heir [bonus]

Regulus walked into the dining room. Behind him, Sirius shrugged and followed.

The dining room was far brighter than the entrance hall.

Orion sat at the head of the table in dark robes. The Head of House badge gleamed at his collar.

His hair was neatly combed, his face neither expressive nor cold.

A cup of tea sat untouched before him, steam curling upward from the rim.

Walburga took her seat at his right.

Regulus crossed to the chair opposite Orion and sat.

Sirius followed and pulled out the chair beside his brother.

"Welcome back, Regulus." Orion looked at him and gave a nod.

His gaze shifted to Sirius and held for a beat.

He hadn’t written to summon his eldest. Yet here the boy was.

If it surprised him, nothing in his face showed it. The same nod he’d given Regulus. "Sirius."

"I’m home, Father." Regulus answered, tone unchanged from any other day.

Sirius’s expression tightened. His lips moved, as though fighting some internal battle.

His head dipped. The voice that came out was low, but not hard. "Father."

He didn’t acknowledge Walburga.

Orion lifted his teacup, took a sip. "Let’s eat."

Kreacher emerged from the direction of the kitchen, flicked a bony finger, and dishes sailed through the air, settling one by one onto the table.

Rosemary-crusted rack of lamb. Garlic-butter lobster. Seasonal vegetables braised in truffle sauce. Smoked salmon with cheese. Caramel custard.

Quiet settled over the dining room, broken only by the clink of knife and fork against porcelain.

Walburga ate slowly. A small piece cut, lifted, chewed several times, swallowed.

Orion’s pace was similar. Unhurried.

Regulus ate normally.

Sirius surveyed the spread, picked up his cutlery, carved off a chunk of lamb, and shoved it in his mouth. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

He chewed, eyes drifting between the people at the table.

The subtle temperature gap between Walburga and Regulus was visible to him, even if he couldn’t decode it.

Orion was the same as ever. Unreadable. The hand holding his teacup rock-steady.

And himself? He noticed something interesting.

He was sitting at this table, and the old impulse to spring from the chair and bolt wasn’t there.

Every time before, this table had been a cage. Walburga’s voice the chains. Orion’s silence the iron walls.

Now he sat, chewed his lamb, watched these people, and felt something close to the idle comfort of an audience member settling into a show.

The realization left him slightly disoriented. When had he become this?

He was watching them. He was also watching himself. What he missed was that Orion’s gaze had lingered on him a beat longer than usual.

Orion cut a piece of beef in half.

The last time this son had come home, he’d been alive in the technical sense. Everything else about him had been dead.

A shell wearing clothes. Mouth shut, eyes shut, sealed up so tight nothing got in and nothing came out.

Today was different. He was looking and observing.

Orion didn’t know what had changed him. Couldn’t be sure whether the change was good or bad.

A son destined to leave had somehow shifted. Some part of him felt gratified.

But Orion wanted to know. What had changed this son? How? When did it start? Why?

He didn’t know. Regulus would.

His gaze moved from Sirius to Regulus and rested there.

He’d ask in the study, later.

As for Sirius, since he was home, he’d attend the Christmas banquet.

The eldest son had been absent last year. People had noticed. A second absence wouldn’t be a personal matter anymore. It would be a statement.

With Sirius’s temperament, though, a gathering like that was a powder keg. The boy might decide to make a scene.

That needed to be addressed clearly. But not now. After he spoke with Regulus about the real business.

Near the end of the meal, Walburga set down her knife and fork, dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and fixed her eyes on Regulus.

"Regulus." Her tone was deliberate, heavier than usual. "Have you thought about the matter with Bella?"

Regulus set down his cup, met her gaze, and waited.

"She’s your cousin. The eldest daughter of the Black family." Walburga’s voice climbed a register. "She’s a Lestrange now, and the one who stands behind her... you should understand that better than anyone."

She stared at Regulus.

He asked a single question. "What exactly did Cousin Bella say?"

Walburga’s brow creased. She hadn’t expected that to be his response.

"She said you’ve been openly sheltering those two half-bloods. Seating them at the heart of the Slytherin table."

Her tone sharpened, eyes narrowing. "She warned you beforehand, and you ignored her. You even sent back a letter that was..." She paused, and her voice dropped heavier, as though the weight alone should make him feel the pressure. "An extremely arrogant letter."

Sirius still had food in his mouth. His eyebrow twitched at sheltering half-bloods, and at arrogant letter he nearly choked on a laugh, ducking his head and pretending to drink his soup.

Regulus was sheltering half-bloods at school?

And wrote Bella an arrogant letter?

His mind spun through the implications.

So Walburga’s coldness had nothing to do with anything else. Bella had gone running to Mummy.

He thought again about what Regulus had said by the lake.

Was this it?

Bella coming to cause trouble?

His spoon circled the bowl once, silent. He kept listening.

"Mother." Regulus’s voice was quiet, his tone gentle, carrying a patience reserved specifically for her. "Those two students were having a difficult time in Slytherin. I lent them a hand. It was nothing more than something between classmates."

The explanation loosened Walburga’s brow a fraction, though her mouth stayed tight. "Bella said..."

"I understand Cousin Bella’s perspective on this." Regulus took over smoothly, unhurried. "She feels the heir of the House of Black shouldn’t be too close to those of mixed blood. I take her point."

Walburga’s expression eased a little more.

"As for the letter," he continued, "I was careless in how I replied. That was my oversight."

He didn’t specify what the reply had been. Walburga didn’t press. She almost certainly didn’t know it was "SO?" scrawled in ketchup.

Bella had probably described it in vague terms. Arrogant attitude, something along those lines. Anything more specific would have been too embarrassing to report.

Walburga’s tone softened, though she remained serious. "Regulus, Bella is your cousin. What she represents now extends beyond herself."

"I know." Regulus nodded, his sincerity so flawless it left nothing to pick at. "Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll speak with Cousin Bella properly and sort things out."

Walburga studied him, her gaze resting on his face for a long moment.

Then her expression loosened by degrees. The hard lines around her eyes gentled, and she gave a small nod.

When she spoke again, there was warmth in it. "Bella is family. Talk to her nicely."

"I understand," Regulus said.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and set it down.

Too easy.

She wanted to hear certain things, so he gave her those things. Acknowledge the oversight. Express respect. Promise communication.

She didn’t need the truth. She needed a posture that put her at ease.

As long as he struck that posture, she’d convince herself. My son listened. My family is fine. I have something to tell Bella.

Walburga’s love for him and her faith in pure-blood glory grew from the same vine.

Satisfy the faith, and the love flowed.

Violate the faith, and the love pulled back. Partially, the way it had tonight.

Satisfy it again, and the love returned.

A simple switch.

Orion hadn’t spoken through any of it. He sat with his teacup, gaze sweeping from Walburga’s face to Regulus’s and back again before withdrawing.

He drank his tea.

Sirius watched it all and pieced it together.

Bella had pressured Regulus at school over something real. Regulus hadn’t budged. Bella had tattled to Walburga. Walburga had pressured Regulus. Regulus had defused her with a few sentences.

One other detail caught his eye. Orion hadn’t said a word the entire time.

He was the Head of House. He had final say. And he’d chosen silence, watching Regulus handle it alone.

A thought surfaced, unbidden: Father and his brother were on the same side.

Walburga was the outsider.

Dinner ended.

Orion stood. "Regulus, settle in, then come to the study."

"Yes, Father." Regulus nodded.

Orion’s gaze flicked toward Sirius, paused briefly, then pulled away. No invitation.

He had real business to discuss with Regulus. The lines he’d fed Walburga at dinner would need replacing with a different script behind closed doors.

Once he and Regulus were finished, he’d call Sirius in separately.

"Sirius, you too."

Regulus’s voice came from beside him, the same tone as always, stating something that didn’t require discussion.

Sirius blinked.

He looked at Regulus. Then at Orion.

Orion hadn’t called him. Regulus had.

In the House of Black, the Head of House decided who entered the study for a conversation. That was the rule. There had never been an exception.

Something shifted inside Sirius’s chest.

In an ordinary family this would mean nothing. But in the House of Black, at this table, in the second after Orion had made his arrangement...

Orion stood there. His gaze touched each brother in turn.

Then he nodded, his tone unchanged. "Sirius, come along."

He walked toward the study.

Sirius stared at his father’s retreating back, then turned to Regulus. His brother’s face gave away nothing. He was folding his napkin and placing it neatly on the table.

Regulus turned to Walburga. "Mother, I’m heading to my room."

She looked at him, wearing the satisfaction left over from being placated, her smile far softer than when he’d walked through the door. "Go on. Don’t keep your father waiting too long."

Her gaze slid past Regulus and over the space where Sirius stood without landing on him at all. As though that chair was empty.

The brothers left the dining room together and headed for the stairs.

On the staircase, Sirius followed behind Regulus, their footsteps thudding dully on the old wooden treads.

He didn’t speak. His mind was still turning over what had happened.

Father hadn’t called him. His brother had. And then Father had agreed.

In this house, the only person who could alter the Head of House’s arrangements was one kind of person.

Someone the Head of House recognized. Recognized deeply enough to let them make certain decisions in his place.

Sirius had never thought about this before.

He didn’t care about this family’s rules. Didn’t care who held authority, didn’t care about the hierarchy or the etiquette.

But tonight, climbing these stairs, it hit him.

His brother wasn’t just the heir of this house anymore.