AU DESCRIPTION. In Ancient Greek mythology, Canis Major represented the hunting dog of Orion, but by Roman times, the star Sirius was considered to have rebelled, causing afflictions to real dogs during summer, and become a dog of his own right. Sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius spent years one through five at Hogwarts just as in canon: befriending the Marauders, pulling pranks, generally slacking off.Â
However, in fifth year, instead of running away, Sirius was successfully broken down by his parent. One closed-door meeting with them was enough to cause a transformation in his attitude: he abruptly dropped his friends, kept his head down, and devoted himself to the family and the furthering of their ideals.
Now two years out of school, he has long-since taken the Dark Mark and is fully in the crossfire of the war.Â
Sirius made his way down the darkened street with his face bent away from the icy wind, stinging at his face and verging just on the cusp of pulling tears from the corner of his eyesââ but he knew they would never come, a fact he was proud of, if not resigned to. It didnât matter how cold it was out in the elements, though; he could still feel the Mark on his arm, burned into his skin under the layers his clothes provided; he wasnât sure it had stopped burning from the moment it had been pressed into him, whether he was being called or not.
The hood of his cloakâhis every-day fare, expensive as it was; he wasnât suffocating behind his mask todayâwas pulled down low over his forehead, providing the tips of his ears some relief from the weather and a short break from being recognized. He had never been a stranger to how a hall cleared when he walked down it. He was certainly not blind to the way streets did the same now. It was a different exclusion than his years spend in isolation during his last few years at school, and he supposed it was supposed to be based on respectâŠbut he didnât have time for that now.Â
The crowd around him was thinner than usual, but that was to be expected given the current state of things: the fear, the violence, both of which heâd had a hand in stirring up. That thought didnât plague him nearly as much as it used it; his father, it seemed, had been right about one thing. You could get used to anything if enough depended on it. It was that quote in particular he was turning over in his mind when he felt his shoulder collide with something, hard.
Sirius had stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago (back when heâd âgrown upâ or what have you), and he had no idea how soon he was about to rethink that notion. For the moment, he didnât spare a thought to whoever heâd just bumped again, clearing his throat and letting loose one firm, self-aggrandizing:Â
Andromeda understood it now. She completely and utterly understood why growing up she and her sisters had seen so little of their parents in comparison to their Nannies. Children were exhausting. Color changing and morphing children the blood of her husband were perhaps the most exhausting of all. There were even charming little leashes that muggles seemed to invent to rectify the wild behavior. However Andromeda was nothing if not competitive making it her sole purpose to be an obviously better Mother than just about anyone. Which meant no Nannies or child leashes. At the very least thatâs what others could take away, still shying away from displays of her affection to the outward public. Really and truly she simply wanted to do better by Nymphadora, raise her better, be there for her when she needed her, raise her to be someone as far away from the cold and dark home sheâd emerged from.Â
So far she even felt that sheâd been doing a good job of it. Parents seemed to enjoy insisting their child was special but sheâd yet to see another metamorphmagus child. Nymphadora was gifted, truly someone unique. Just by giving birth Andromeda really was doing a superior job already. Like all children from the House of Black sheâd also already displayed magic on top of her gifts. So truly it wasnât her fault that sheâd effectively been kicked out of the Mommy and Me class. It had nothing to do with her Mothering and everything to do with her inability to stand for being in an organized club that could be run far better. At the very least she could inform her Mother in Law that sheâd been to one, that yes a magical one should be more than sufficient and no thank you she is quite fine with the experience she gathered.
The bump in the end was likely her fault in part, her mind far off scripting out her humble refusal of any further assistance. The young mother hushed the bundle in her arms as she walked along pulling greedy hands away from her updo. A dignified braided piece, never one to slack on her appearance even in motherhood. Between her mind and the physical distraction the jolt took her off balance more than it should have her mind instantly flipping into an infuriated state at the outrageous remark that came along with it. âI am holding a one year old, you watch your putain de mouth.â Andromeda snapped in return pushing Nymphadora the ever moving one and half year old closer into her arms. Her daughter had only just started talking five or six words in her arsenal so whilst impressive Andromeda could get away with a bit of swearing still herself. âDo you perhaps make it a habit to nearly upend babies or have you grown bored of kicking puppies and taken upon this one as well?â She could care less how blind this person may be an overwhelming urge to pursue this matter controlling her.Â
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