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Fic - Duke Black - 1/1
Title: Duke Black
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humour
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Remus prepares to meet the head of Sirius' family and discovers a brand new fear: what if Arcturus Black likes him?
AN: Written for the prompt 'AU: Royalty/Aristocracy/Feudal' for my Trope Bingo table. This is set in the same universe as - and a year or so after - Meeting Hope.
“Just remember that it’s Lord Black, when you speak to him.”
“What?”
“Or Your Grace if you’re taking to him directly. Unless he gives you permission, in which case…”
Sirius trails off, eyes Remus doubtfully, and then continues with his primping. Remus has been brushed down, de-linted, combed and otherwise groomed more times than he could ever even count, all in one morning. James and Peter – the pillocks – are no help at all, alternatively watching the spectacle with wide eyes or laughing.
“Your Grace?” he asks weakly.
“His Grace Lord Arcturus Black, 17th Duke of Aldgrimm and Blackmarch,” Sirius replies. His hand drifts to Remus’ collar again, tweaking it a little to the left before returning it to the exact same position it had been in before. “He’s why I haven’t been disowned yet – direct hereditary line of succession. Not up to Mother, though she’s tried.”
Remus inhales slowly. “Hell,” he says after a moment.
He’s known for years that Sirius is rich. He doesn’t exactly hide it – which is not to say he flaunts it, unlike James sometimes (though Sirius says he’s neuveau when he does it). He’s got the best of everything, despite being the less-favoured son, and the money’s so ingrained into his very being that it’s in the way he sounds and the way he moves his hands.
But at the same time, Sirius is Sirius. Mad as a hatter, loyal to a fault, and madly, desperately in love with one Remus Lupin – a werewolf who grew up on a farm and who has only ever read about the kind of dinner parties with more than one set of knife and fork.
“You’ll be fine,” Sirius says. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “You’re clever. Grandfather likes clever people. Polite too, always a bonus.”
How the hell the Blacks had produced Sirius, then…
Sirius’ grin and James’ sudden hysterical burst of laughter tells him that he said that out loud. “Combination of bad luck and alcohol, to hear my father speak of it,” he replies, smoothing Remus’ tie for (hopefully) the last time and pecking a quick kiss to his lips. “He thought he was chatting up Uncle Alphard.”
And suddenly, Remus finds something even more intimidating than his being introduced to the paterfamilias of the House of Black and a Peer of the Realm: his being in any way officially involved with any member of Sirius’ completely nutters family outside of Sirius himself. (And occasionally Regulus, who nods at him in the corridors whenever he deigns to remember Remus’ existence.) They are all, from Sirius’ stories, uniformly insane in a wonderfully varied manner with approximately zero appealing characteristics between them.
If you discount the dashing good looks, powerful magic, obscene wealth, and a duchy.
“We should go,” Sirius announces. “Don’t want to keep m’lord waiting.”
“What if he likes me?” Remus asks, touching on this latest, greatest fear.
“Then you’ll probably be allowed over during the summer,” Sirius replies. “Bella will throw a fit. Mother will throw a fit. A halfblood in Black Keep? Sacrilege.” He gets that look – that horribly, horribly familiar look – that says that he’s plotting something that, this time, will lead to Remus being Lord Arcturus Black’s favourite person.
But Remus blinks, distracted. He stares down at Sirius’ widening smile with growing horror, and a nauseas feeling growing in his gut. “Keep?”
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humour
Pairing: Remus/Sirius
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Remus prepares to meet the head of Sirius' family and discovers a brand new fear: what if Arcturus Black likes him?
AN: Written for the prompt 'AU: Royalty/Aristocracy/Feudal' for my Trope Bingo table. This is set in the same universe as - and a year or so after - Meeting Hope.
“Just remember that it’s Lord Black, when you speak to him.”
“What?”
“Or Your Grace if you’re taking to him directly. Unless he gives you permission, in which case…”
Sirius trails off, eyes Remus doubtfully, and then continues with his primping. Remus has been brushed down, de-linted, combed and otherwise groomed more times than he could ever even count, all in one morning. James and Peter – the pillocks – are no help at all, alternatively watching the spectacle with wide eyes or laughing.
“Your Grace?” he asks weakly.
“His Grace Lord Arcturus Black, 17th Duke of Aldgrimm and Blackmarch,” Sirius replies. His hand drifts to Remus’ collar again, tweaking it a little to the left before returning it to the exact same position it had been in before. “He’s why I haven’t been disowned yet – direct hereditary line of succession. Not up to Mother, though she’s tried.”
Remus inhales slowly. “Hell,” he says after a moment.
He’s known for years that Sirius is rich. He doesn’t exactly hide it – which is not to say he flaunts it, unlike James sometimes (though Sirius says he’s neuveau when he does it). He’s got the best of everything, despite being the less-favoured son, and the money’s so ingrained into his very being that it’s in the way he sounds and the way he moves his hands.
But at the same time, Sirius is Sirius. Mad as a hatter, loyal to a fault, and madly, desperately in love with one Remus Lupin – a werewolf who grew up on a farm and who has only ever read about the kind of dinner parties with more than one set of knife and fork.
“You’ll be fine,” Sirius says. He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself. “You’re clever. Grandfather likes clever people. Polite too, always a bonus.”
How the hell the Blacks had produced Sirius, then…
Sirius’ grin and James’ sudden hysterical burst of laughter tells him that he said that out loud. “Combination of bad luck and alcohol, to hear my father speak of it,” he replies, smoothing Remus’ tie for (hopefully) the last time and pecking a quick kiss to his lips. “He thought he was chatting up Uncle Alphard.”
And suddenly, Remus finds something even more intimidating than his being introduced to the paterfamilias of the House of Black and a Peer of the Realm: his being in any way officially involved with any member of Sirius’ completely nutters family outside of Sirius himself. (And occasionally Regulus, who nods at him in the corridors whenever he deigns to remember Remus’ existence.) They are all, from Sirius’ stories, uniformly insane in a wonderfully varied manner with approximately zero appealing characteristics between them.
If you discount the dashing good looks, powerful magic, obscene wealth, and a duchy.
“We should go,” Sirius announces. “Don’t want to keep m’lord waiting.”
“What if he likes me?” Remus asks, touching on this latest, greatest fear.
“Then you’ll probably be allowed over during the summer,” Sirius replies. “Bella will throw a fit. Mother will throw a fit. A halfblood in Black Keep? Sacrilege.” He gets that look – that horribly, horribly familiar look – that says that he’s plotting something that, this time, will lead to Remus being Lord Arcturus Black’s favourite person.
But Remus blinks, distracted. He stares down at Sirius’ widening smile with growing horror, and a nauseas feeling growing in his gut. “Keep?”