Harry opened his eyes the following morning, noticing that someone had drawn the curtains of the windows in his new chambers on his behalf. He didn't want to admit it, but he had slept rather well, with the bed and new pair of nightclothes he found within his wardrobe being exceptionally comfortable. Pushing himself up and out of the bed, he noticed that the table close to the window had a steaming bowl of porridge upon it, plus a platter of pastries which smelled heavenly, and Harry had to admit, even to himself, how hungry he was.

Harry crossed the room, which he noticed was likely heated by Warming Charms on the swatches of highly-polished wood which were not hidden beneath the expensive carpets which littered the floor. Moving to sit upon the lovely chair, Harry pulled the bowl of porridge towards him, watching with delight as a tea service arrived as well. There was also a generous helping of butter within its own little dish, as well as a bowl of sugar, which he supposed was to be used for his tea, as well as the porridge. Once Harry had tasted the delight that was his breakfast, he soon realized that he would not starve while under the earl's care, for lack of a better term, and it filled him with immense relief, for he had spent the first five years of his life in a state of perpetual starvation, and it was not something he wished to ever experience again.

Once Harry finished with his breakfast, the dishes seemed to understand and vanished themselves, likely to return to the kitchen to be washed. He startled a bit as he got to his feet and heard someone knocking at the door, and cleared his throat promptly. "Come in," he said, hoping that the earl wasn't checking up on him.

The door opened, and Harry's eyes widened as Neville stood there, and the taller young man gave him a tentative smile. "Morning, Harry," he said, as the doors automatically swung shut behind him. "I've come to see how you are, and to help you get ready."

Harry blinked. "Help me get ready?"

Neville nodded. "Yes. His Grace the earl has assigned me to be your personal valet, and I take my position very seriously."

Harry shuffled from foot-to-foot. "Who is the earl's valet?" he asked as Neville crossed over to the wardrobe, and peered inside.

"Richard, Baron of Hollowick," Neville replied, getting out a day suit for Harry from the wardrobe and banishing it over to Harry, who promptly began to change. "His wife, Baroness Helena, is the head maid here, one leg down from Mrs. McGonagall, the housekeeper. Her mother and father were the personal valet and head maid to His Grace's great-uncle, Earl Geoffrey, and his great-aunt, Countess Ismenia," he rattled off flawlessly. "They live in the village outside of Epping Forest in their retirement, with Baron Richard and Baroness Helena's four children going back and forth. Since they attend the local primary wizarding school in Essex, they come and visit on the weekends or the lengthy term holidays. They cannot come right before Christmas or the summer holidays, however, due to important examinations taking place at the school," Neville continued, a small smile upon his lips as he considered that, as Harry continued dressing, "but they should be along at any time now, in a few weeks, of course, and His Grace the earl is always quite accommodating of their comings and goings, always lending a carriage for the trips."

"The earl doesn't mind them visiting?" Harry queried, pulling up the trousers and tucking in the shirt upon the suit.

"Oh, Merlin, no," Neville responded, shaking his head. "Lettice is ten, Ralph is eight, Odelina is six, and Andrew is three. Andrew is the only one who remains here all the time, and is a companion for Teddy, given their similar ages." Neville smiled more broadly as Harry finished dressing himself, and nodded in approval as the bespectacled, green-eyed wizard tied the tie upon the suit expertly. "Very good. The earl has decreed that Ron and Hermione may show you about today, provided that you don't mind that Teddy accompanies them."

Harry blinked; he hadn't asked before, but wanted to do so now. "I'm sorry, I don't know who Teddy is," he admitted.

Neville swallowed uncomfortably then, plastering a smile upon his lips. "Well, I assure you that Ron and Hermione will introduce you forthwith," he decreed, before turning on his heel and leaving Harry's chambers.

Shaking his head, Harry slipped his wand into the provided holster within the sleeve of the suit and trekked out of the room behind Neville, with the door automatically shutting behind him. He arrived at the staircase in no time, and came upon the entrance hall, where, just last evening, he had run into Ron and Hermione. As he went down the staircase, he heard a door opening from below, and Ron's red head, Hermione's bushy one, and one with a shock of pink hair came into view, and Harry raised his eyebrows, especially when he saw Hermione cuddling the little pink-haired being close.

"Harry!" Ron said, hearing his best mate upon the stairs and turning around, and Hermione did so as well with a broad smile, the little mite in her arms looking inquisitively up at Harry with intelligent dark eyes.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, her tone more reserved as Harry finished walking down the staircase, and stepped forward to kiss him lightly upon the cheek. "Teddy, darling, would you say, 'good morning' to Harry, please?"

"Goo' mornin', Hawwy," Teddy replied, giving Harry a shy smile.

Harry quickly found himself enchanted with Teddy, and offered him a hand, but was quite surprised when Teddy launched himself forward, throwing himself into Harry's arms, and Harry let out a startled laugh at that, holding him close. "Well, you're a friendly young man, aren't you?" he asked, looking around his unexpected armful of toddler, and giving Ron and Hermione curious expressions. "Who is this, then?"

"Me Teddy!" Teddy proclaimed, pulling himself back to get a good look at Harry, his hair turning blue, green, red, and finally yellow, before going back to pink. "Mummy and Daddy have told me about you, Hawwy!" the toddler said with glee, and gently took ahold of Harry's cheeks, his palms warm and soft. "C'n I call you Unca Hawwy?" he asked, his lashes long and his eyes innocent, as he looked the man over.

"Well, yes, of course," Harry told the toddler, raising his eyebrows at the forthright nature of the little thing, and maneuvered his head slightly so as he could regard his close friends. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Teddy, darling," Hermione said, gently rubbing Teddy's back, and he turned round to stare at her engagingly. "Why don't we go outside first? There's someone I want you to meet."

"Vewy well, Mummy," Teddy said, allowing himself to be taken by Hermione, who walked to the end of the hallway, and summoned long coats for the two of them, before they stepped outside into the snowy garden.

"We wanted to write you about Teddy, mate," Ron confessed, hands in his pockets as they slowly walked along. "We just didn't know how to tell you."

Harry sighed, and they both non-verbally summoned coats for the two of them, and wrapped himself in the one that came to him, one he recognized from his cursory glance within his wardrobe, when Neville had opened it earlier. "It isn't something one could merely read about in owl post without spitting tea out upon it," he admitted.

Ron nodded. "Exactly. However, you should know that Mum found him, cold, hungry, and a mere baby, placed upon the stoop of the servants' entrance," he admitted, and Harry swallowed, for he, too had been left in similar circumstances at the cottage of his aunt and uncle, nearly twenty years previously. "There was a note, saying that his own mother was quite ill and likely to die, so Mum took him. She's kept him close, as a companion for Baron and Baroness Hollowick's son, Andrew, but when 'Mione and I started working here, we just became so enchanted with him that we made plans to adopt him ourselves."

Harry sighed. "Do you suppose that's wise?" he asked. "Granted, you and 'Mione have plenty of love to give him, but you're so young. Are you quite positive you would be the best fit for him? I suppose Bill and Fleur would be..."

"Harry, no offense, but my brother and his wife aren't good candidates to raise Teddy, for two reasons," Ron explained. "For one thing, Bill and Fleur don't have a rapport with him, as 'Mione and I do, and, for another, Fleur is expecting," he said, whispering this particular tidbit of information, for both young men had been taught from an early age not to mention such things regularly, let alone in public.

Harry whistled, realizing how happy he was for Ron's eldest sibling, to have found such a love match, as well as to be raising a family with her. "Yes, I see," he said, recalling the marriage of Bill and Fleur.

Their romance had begun the summer after Harry, Ron, and Hermione's fourth-year, after Fleur had moved permanently from England to France, and began working for Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Diagon Alley, in order to improve her English speaking. While there, the pair had fallen in love almost instantly, and had begun a traditional courtship. They had married the August before, at a lovely ceremony hosted by Arthur and Molly Weasley at their home in Ottery St. Catchpole, the Burrow, with Harry, Sirius, and everyone important to the families were in attendance.

Fleur, who Ginny and Hermione hadn't liked much in the beginning, was part-Veela, and although Harry himself had never been drawn to her, he had to admit that she was a lovely woman, and she seemed to like Harry as well. Harry knew that this likely had to do with the fact that he had never acted untoward with Fleur, always coming across like the perfect gentleman, as he was bred to be. Fleur came from the ancient De la Coure family (who had slammed their name together and took off the 'E' at the end, in a manner that Hermione and Ginny believed to be unbecoming) which was filled with powerful French witches and wizards, and Harry enjoyed hearing about them from Fleur and her little sister, Gabrielle, although Ginny didn't like Harry interacting with the latter. Harry thought it was ridiculous, and even though Gabrielle was a lovely girl, she was a mere eleven years of age when Fleur and Bill's wedding took place, so he was hardly going to put either of them in a compromising position.

"We've already petitioned the Wizengamot for a formal conference so as we can legitimately adopt Teddy," Ron continued, opening the door for Harry and moving to the side, so as his friend could step outside first.

Harry smiled. "Of course, it would likely go more smoothly, were you and Hermione married beforehand," he put in.

Ron nodded. "Yes, we're aware of that. We've asked His Grace if we might utilize the chapel, further along the grounds, for the ceremony."

Harry blinked. "There is a chapel on the grounds?"

"Yes, just beyond the garden, in between that plot of land and the gamekeeper's cottage," Ron explained as they walked towards the area where the stables were kept. "We attend services there each Sunday, even His Grace," he went on. "It is the wizarding form of Anglican services, and Hermione and I find the words of the vicar uplifting and lovely. Teddy, bless him, has the voice of an angel, and Hermione's teaching him how to sing the hymns and such properly."

"Has the earl granted his permission for you and Hermione to be married in the chapel?" Harry wanted to know.

Ron nodded. "He has. We're to be married next month, and the formal conference before the Wizengamot is scheduled for the spring."

"It is kind of him to consent," Harry admitted.

Ron sighed as the trudged the rest of the way towards the stables, the snow silent beneath their booted feet. "He is truly a fair master to serve," the redheaded wizard informed the emerald-eyed one in a quiet manner, "and I'm not merely saying so, Harry. I mean, we're pre-conditioned to have our own thoughts and beliefs for a reason. The very fact that you stood up to His Grace and volunteered to take Sirius's place here..." He sighed. "You showed true Gryffindor bravery, and although His Grace was a Slytherin, I've heard from other members of the staff that you surprised him that night."

Harry sighed. "I suppose it all really came down to the debt I feel towards Sirius," he admitted as they approached the entrance to the stables. "He rescued me from ill-treatment as a child, and I saw last night as an opportunity to repay him."

"You're family, mate," Ron said, casually draping his arm around Harry's shoulders. "You shouldn't have felt that way."

"Nevertheless, I did," Harry informed him. He hesitated for a moment, before he turned and regarded his friend. "Don't you and Hermione have chores to do?"

Ron's red brows knit together. "What do you mean, mate?"

Harry swallowed. "Well, I don't want either of you getting into trouble on my account. Trouble seems to follow me," he said softly.

Ron shook his head. "Don't worry. It isn't like that."

Harry blinked. "How do you mean?"

"His Grace figured out how close you, me, and Hermione are," Ron stated patiently. "He said that we should show you around."

Harry shook his head. "Why would he do that?"

"Because this is your home now," Ron said quietly, and Harry looked away then, the reminder that he could not turn to Grimmauld, even after willingly sacrificing himself on Sirius's behalf, still a bitter pill to swallow.

"I remember," Harry said softly.

"His Grace just wants you to be comfortable, mate," Ron replied, and Harry nodded, allowing Ron to retain his arm there for a moment as they finally stepped into the warmth of the stables, watching as Hermione, still holding onto Teddy, was pointing to various horses and whispering facts about them.

"That one there is a Destrier," she explained, and Teddy looked wonderingly up at the beautiful and massive black stallion in one section of the stable. "This particular horse belongs to His Grace, and his name is Thurston. He's a strong breed, one of the strongest out there; Muggles don't have access to them anymore, as they don't see the need for them, but Thurston here is very capable of carrying armor on his own."

"C'n Teddy pet Thurston?" the child asked, somehow able to pronounce the name.

Hermione nodded at him. "Yes, but gently, love," she instructed, stepping closer. "Although Thurston here is quite friendly, horses are proud animals and can still spook easily." The pair stepped all the way up to where Thurston was, and the beautiful animal whinnied in greeting, and shuffled slightly as he watched Hermione reach into her cloak pocket and draw out an apple. "I should think he wants to make friends."

Teddy eyed the apple, a bright shade of red within Hermione's pale hand. "Teddy give Thurston the apple, Mummy?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, demonstrating how to flatten one's hand so that Teddy wouldn't get bitten by the majestic beast before them. "Go ahead, love," she said, leaning forward slightly as Teddy flattened his hand and offered the piece of fruit to Thurston.

Thurston inhaled the offering and clopped as close as his could, delicately unsheathing his teeth from within his lips and taking a tentative bite of the apple. The horse blinked rapidly as he chewed, effectively finishing the treat quickly. One he was finished, he bowed his head, and little Teddy promptly reached out and delicately petted the animal's nose.

"Like velvet," Teddy said wonderingly.

Harry looked around the stables, seeing the pale blue and silver feathers belonging to Buckbeak, who was placed upon the other end. Striding forward towards the familiar animal, Buckbeak lifted his head and let out a chortle in Harry's direction. Harry smiled, bowing to him, and Buckbeak promptly lowered his head respectfully, yellow eyes quickly flickering back and forth to get a good look at everyone in the stables around him.

"Teddy," Harry asked, following Buckbeak's gaze, and watched as the small boy finished greeting Thurston properly, "have you met a hippogriff before?"

Teddy turned around slowly then, so as not to spook Thurston, and stared, wide-eyed, at the creature just beside Harry. "No, Unca Hawwy," he replied.

Harry stepped back towards Hermione, looking at his friend questioningly, and she promptly gave Teddy over to him. "Come along, then," he said, and slowly approached Buckbeak, who regarded the pair with an air of curiosity. "This is Buckbeak," Harry said softly. "Can you bow your head towards him? It's seen as a sign of respect."

Teddy's brow puckered. "Like when I bow to His Gwace?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

Teddy struggled for a moment, and Harry let him go, placing him gently upon the ground close to Buckbeak's section. Teddy promptly bowed to the creature, who let out a cooing sound, and bowed back to him. "Now what, Unca Hawwy?" the boy asked, peeking up at him, his hair turning a bright shade of yellow in his excitement.

Harry stepped towards Teddy ever so slightly, and the toddler promptly lifted his arms to be picked up again. Harry smiled indulgently and picked up the small child before turning back to face the hippogriff. "Gently lean forward and pat him," he instructed, and stepped closer to the beast, tentatively so, and smiled as the hippogriff lowered his head so that the child could caress his feathers ever so slightly.

"Oh, soft," Teddy whispered then, awestruck.

"You can ride him, you know," Ron said, coming up behind them slowly, his arm wrapped around Hermione's waist, and Buckbeak twittered softly in greeting.

"Can I, Daddy?" Teddy asked, turning immediately to look at Ron.

"Ask your mother," Ron said, smirking at Hermione.

Hermione sighed; she and Ron had known Buckbeak since the summer after their first year at Hogwarts, when they had stayed for two weeks at Grimmauld Place, and had continued to do so until the Christmas before their graduation, so the hippogriff knew and trusted the pair of them, as evidenced by the look of contentment in his yellow eyes when he regarded them. "I suppose you can, love, provided that Harry says it's all right, and he rides him with you," she said, adding the second part quickly.

"C'n we ride him, Unca Hawwy?" Teddy asked, his eyes shining with childlike innocence, which Harry had lost early on, and hoped to preserve within the small child for as long as possible. For even though he'd just met the boy less than an hour before, he already felt extremely protective of him, and wanted to keep him safe at all costs.

Harry nodded at Teddy, smiling at him. "Of course we can. I think it's a bit too cold to fly him, though. We'll have to wait until the spring," he went on, unknowing if he would ever be able to fly Buckbeak—or a broomstick—ever again. Trying not to sigh aloud at what he had lost, he unlocked the padlock and gently slipped the provided rope around the hippogriff's neck, and Buckbeak trotted happily out of the stables as Harry gently commanded him via the rope.

Once Harry and Teddy were outside, with Ron and Hermione trailing behind them, Harry was quick to show Teddy how to sooth Buckbeak before attempting to ride him. Harry was pleased at how much Teddy seemed to know about animals, and knew that Ron must've taught him a thing or two, which the trio had all learned from Professor Kettleburn—the Care of Magical Creatures instructor at Hogwarts—as well as Ron's elder brother, Charlie, who lived in Romania, studying and taming dragons. Once the hippogriff was rendered calm, Harry briefly handed Teddy over to Ron, before hoisting himself up upon the back of the beast, and took Teddy back from his would-be adoptive father.

"Easy now," Harry said, gently settling Teddy in front of him. Harry gently squeezed Buckbeak around the middle, as one would do to the horse, and pulled at the reins, so as he gently clopped around the provided cobblestone path in the garden.

Teddy reached down, continually stroking the beast's feathers, humming to himself for a few moments as Harry guided Buckbeak around. "Does he have a name, Unca Hawwy?" the child wanted to know, after a few moments, turning around to face his new friend.

"He does," Harry told him, nodding, proud to instill further knowledge into the small boy. "This is Buckbeak. There has always been a hippogriff in the Black family. Buckbeak is the latest one, and he belongs to my godfather, Sirius Black."

"I like Buckbeak," Teddy declared.

Harry chuckled. "That's good. I believe he likes you as well, Teddy."

As Ron and Hermione looked on indulgently as their almost-son was spoken to by their dearest friend, and Harry continued chattering to Teddy, not one of them looked up to the gothic manor house behind them. Had they done so, however, they would have seen the face of Ron and Hermione's master, and Harry's jailer, the earl himself. The earl was watching Harry as he tipped back his head and laughed at something the child before him said, and found himself becoming lost in those green eyes, which sparkled each time he laughed.

~*~

Sirius had ridden as quickly as he could, all through the night, on the correct path of Epping Forest, and was extremely relieved for the bag of pine needles that Hermione had secreted to him. She explained that, if he were to rub the scent of them upon his person, it would potentially mask it from Greyback's pack. It had worked, as he had ridden the borrowed horse quickly through the wood, managing to get back to London by mid-morning.

He immediately flew through the gates of his Islington home, and dismounted from the steed, taking him directly into the stables, where fresh food and water were always kept. Once he had secured the beast within the padlocked area, with a bag of oats and a massive bucket of water, Sirius had promptly taken off into the house, shoving open the door and stumbling inside. All this noise caused Kreacher to come barreling out of the kitchen, his ancient eyes taking in that of his master, and his ears visibly flattened upon his wrinkled head when he saw that Sirius stood alone in the small entrance hall of the ancestral House of Black.

"Where is Master Harry?" the aged elf cracked out.

"Harry has been taken prisoner," Sirius snapped, not wanting to get into it, as he banished his outer clothes into the laundry. "I require a late breakfast, Kreacher," he continued, and the house-elf grew annoyed when he saw that his questions wouldn't be answered further, "a full English. I would then like to take a bath, and then you'd be free to see to the rest of your chores."

"Yes, master," the house-elf bit out, before cracking away from there.

Sirius rolled his eyes, knowing that the elf would take as long as possible in preparing such a meal for him, so he decided to have his bath first. Traipsing up the stairs and into the master suite, he traveled to the en suite, his joints protesting at all the walking, and pushed open the door to the water closet. He magicked the bath to turn to an appropriate temperature, and flicked on the taps so that the water came pooling and steaming into the tub. Sirius promptly stripped down of his inner layers, promptly banished them to the laundry, and got into the water.

He was able to vanish most of the dirt from his body beforehand, so when he got into the water properly, it did not get overly dirty. Rolling his shoulders and making a grab for a nearby goblet he kept on hand, he filled it with water and wet his hair, intent upon washing it, so the scent of horse did not cling to him for days. He scrubbed both his hair and body vigorously, for the stay in the cell at Snivellus's home had not been a happy affair, and, although he was worried for Harry, he was secretly glad to be back in his own home.

Once Sirius had finished washing himself, he let out the water and made a grab for a flannel and returned to his bedroom. Fetching an afternoon suit and corresponding leather boots from his wardrobe and putting it on, he went downstairs and into the parlor, where his steaming breakfast awaited him. Nodding to himself, he sat down in the chair, managing to eat the eggs and toast rather quickly, but took his time cutting up his sausages into bite-sized pieces. He had been given hard bread and warm water whilst locked away, so he knew that he should get used to heavier meals little by little.

Finally, when Sirius couldn't eat another bite, he banished the dishes to the kitchen and knelt before the fireplace. He tossed in some Floo Powder, and yelled, "Flourish and Blotts!" into the flames, which went green as the connection attempted to establish itself. He absolutely had to speak to Remus.

Remus's head promptly appeared in the flames a moment later, and the man looked visibly shocked to see Sirius on the other side. "Sirius?" he asked, taking in the dark circles beneath the man's eyes, and quickly found that he was worried for the man he had been in love with since his teenage years. "What's happened? Where is Harry? I've not seen or heard from him in nearly a fortnight..."

"He's been imprisoned, Remus," Sirius replied, his tone shaking. "I know it is a Tuesday, but could you come through please?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, of course. Give me a moment," the man replied, leaving the connection open as his face disappeared for a moment. When his face returned, he was quick to step through the flames and into Grimmauld Place, casting a quick Cleaning Charm upon himself, so as not to track soot into the parlor. He looked at Sirius then, swallowing, as he closed the connection himself without looking. "Sirius..."

Sirius looked terrible, but, then, he felt as if he'd had his arm chopped off, due to Harry so willingly taking his place, and his own lack of sleep. "I..."

"Tell me what happened," Remus said gently, and guided Sirius over to a couch across the room with his kind and caring eyes never leaving Sirius's back. "You said that Harry's been imprisoned. I take it that it is not Azkaban or Fleet Street?"

"Nor has he been locked in the Tower of London," Sirius confirmed, shaking his head. "Harry's been imprisoned at Murkwood Manor..."

"In Essex?" Remus asked, and Sirius looked up.

"What?" he asked.

"I know the place," Remus told him.

Sirius shook his head. "How is it you know of it when I do not?"

Remus sighed. "Before the students and professors come in for their textbooks, or parents come into the shop for Christmas presents, I have a lot of time on my hands for reading," the man told him quietly. "I've read anything from those embarrassingly accurate romance novels that Harry so covets, or maps and history of various locations, both in and out of the Wizarding World. I have quite an extensive collection of historical maps in the shop, and one chapter features ancestral family homes in various parts of England."

Sirius leaned back against the couch they sat upon; he could remember how knowledgeable Remus was during their years at Hogwarts, and, during their fifth-year, when Lily Evans had finally accepted James' pledge of courtship, he and Remus had begun spending more time together, as friends, of course. Remus helped Sirius in studying for his OWLs, and Sirius had begun to see just what a remarkable young man Remus was. What many people considered treasonous behavior within the Muggle world was seen as quite normal in the Wizarding World, and although Sirius had clearly felt an attraction—which had quickly manifested itself into love by the time they had all sat for their NEWTs in seventh-year—Sirius never believed that someone as wonderful as Remus would ever consent to—

"So, Harry is imprisoned at Murkwood Manor?" Remus asked.

Sirius shook his head, clearing it of his reverie. "Yes," he replied.

Remus considered this for a moment. "It belonged to the Prince family," he said, obviously going backwards within the confines of his mind to establish who the rightful owners of the property were. "Of course, Eileen Prince was the designated heir, at one time, as the senior member of the family, but she died, leaving behind a son..."

"Snivellus," Sirius growled.

Remus swallowed. "Snape owns the property, then?"

Sirius nodded. "He does."

"How did Harry find himself as a prisoner there?" Remus wanted to know.

Sirius looked around then, and deliberately lowered his voice. "I became lost whilst riding Buckbeak through Epping Forest; took a wrong turn," he said by means of explanation. "I heard Greyback's pack upon me, which startled Buckbeak, and he took off, leaving me, as the wolves went after him," he continued. "Then, I came to a grove of trees, and, at the opposite end of them, were the iron gates of the manor," he explained. "I went inside, and was given food and drink, plus somewhere to stay for the night. However, the following morning, I made the mistake of taking a bunch of lilies for Harry..."

Remus swallowed. "You committed theft of someone's property—a nobleman's property," the man said, shaking his head. "Did you learn nothing from the etiquette lessons we were made to suffer through?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Apparently not, for Snivellus came upon me and informed me that I had stolen from his potion supplies, and locked me away in his basement dungeons."

Remus chewed the inside of his lip. "That still does not explain how Harry came to find himself prisoner at the manor."

"No, it doesn't," Sirius conceded. "Well, Buckbeak must have made his way back here, for Harry utilized him to return to the manor. Ron and Hermione—it's their place of employment—spoke to him, and tried to get him to leave. However, Harry managed to find out where I'd been locked away, and, after discovery of the cause of my imprisonment, he took the blame himself and refused to listen to reason..."

"Sirius..."

"He took my place, and, even though I tried not to allow him, Snivellus employed a house-elf to take me back to Grimmauld."

Remus wrinkled his nose. "That does not explain the obvious bath, nor the smell of horse you attempted to rid yourself of, yet still clings to you," he replied.

Sirius rolled his shoulders. "Well, he told the house-elf to bring me back to Grimmauld, but instead the elf informed me that Snivellus really meant for me to be given a horse, and to get myself back here," the man grumbled.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I see."

"I have to get Harry out of there, Remus," Sirius said quietly, hating the notion that tremors found themselves into his voice as he spoke.

Remus nodded. "Yes, of course," he replied. "This is Harry's home, after all, and you are his family and official guardian."

Sirius swallowed. "Will you help me, Remus?" he asked, his eyes locking onto his dearest friend's face. "Will you help me bring Harry home?"

Remus reached out then, taking Sirius's hand, and did his best to ignore the zing that came along with the physical contact; no, his revelation to Sirius about his feelings for him would have to wait until Harry was safely home. "Yes, of course I will, Sirius," he replied.

~*~

Harry had spent his first full day in the company of Ron, Hermione, and little Teddy, and was relieved that he was permitted to take his meals with them. He breakfasted and lunched with them during his second day, but was perplexed when Neville came into his rooms after lunch, after Harry was due to change into an evening suit from his afternoon one. He took the note that Neville gave him, and opened it when he realized his school friend was lingering, obviously awaiting a reply.

You will join me for dinner.

This is not a request.

S.S.

Harry gritted his feet, tempted to throw the note upon the fire in his bedroom; it was, of course, connected to the Floo Network, but Neville told him that the network itself was blocked within this particular guest chamber, which made sense, given that he was a prisoner. "I'll not join him for dinner, Neville," Harry told him firmly.

Neville swallowed, quickly going pale. "Harry, I know for a fact that His Grace doesn't request things of his...erm...guests," the young man replied, obviously not wanting to verbally call Harry a prisoner, despite the fact that this was what he was.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter," he replied. "I will not eat with him."

Neville sighed. "His Grace informed me that you won't be permitted to eat otherwise," he said, and shuffled from foot to foot.

Harry scoffed; although it had been over thirteen years since he had dealt with starvation, and his body wasn't used to it anymore, he had still been starved in the past. Although Harry was not content to feel the everlasting pangs and pains of hunger within him, eating him from the inside out, once again, he resolved that he would remain steadfast. "I don't care," he said. "I will not eat with my own jailer."

"Do you fancy yourself able to command things in my own house?" asked a silky voice, and Harry felt something jar from within him at the sound of the voice of his captor. "Master Longbottom, please return to your other duties," the earl went on, slipping into Harry's bedroom without looking at Neville. "I will see to young Harry."

Neville immediately bowed reverently to the man. "Yes, Your Grace," he said quickly, and scurried out of there like a mouse on fire.

Harry straightened himself up then, fixing the black stare with his green one. "And to what do I owe the pleasure from an official visit from my jailer?" he asked, crossing his arms. "Will you be threatening me with beatings next? Because, I assure you, I have dealt with many a negative thing thrown at me," he told him.

"Spare me the theatrics," the earl replied, rolling his eyes in a delicate manner, and Harry felt his mouth going dry at the action. "I'm quite sure that Black gave you a good life."

Harry gritted his teeth; the earl knew nothing, but Harry wasn't about to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for his impertinent attitude, or give the man a lecture about what he did and did not know about him. "Quite," he said shortly.

"I believe my note stated that your presence at dinner was not a request," the man continued in that silky drawl of his, permitting his eyes to sweep over Harry, "which can only mean that it was a direct order from your gracious host."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Gracious you may be, for I was not given a cell in the dungeons, like my godfather was," he said. "However, 'host' implies that I am a mere guest within the house, and guests have to go home eventually."

"You are a permanent guest," the earl declared, "and this is your home now."

"Yes, Ron had mentioned that," Harry allowed, crumpling up the note in his hands, and took great delight in watching the man sneer at his childish actions. "He also mentioned that you were a kind and fair master."

"I like to treat my staff well," the earl told him.

Harry raised an eyebrows. "And not anyone else, apparently."

"Were you subjected to etiquette lessons while at Hogwarts?" the man wanted to know, clearly eager to change the subject, for he did not appear to like the notion that Harry was so quick on his feet when it came to banter. "I assume you attended that particular institution, considering that Master Weasley and Miss Granger are your dearest friends."

"Yes, I attended Hogwarts, and was sorted into Gryffindor like Ron, Hermione, and Neville," he told the man.

The man's thin lips warped into a shape clearly resembling that of yet another sneer. "So, were you or were you not subjected to etiquette lessons?"

"I was, as any nobleman is, magic or not," Harry told him.

"Well, clearly, you did not pay attention during those lessons," the man said firmly, "as one of the first was to treat your elders with respect."

Harry shook his head at the man. "Perhaps in your day that was how things were done, because the younger generations of magic and Muggles alike believe that respect is something that is earned, not merely given freely. Clearly, I don't know you enough to readily give you my respect, Your Grace, because all I do know of you is that you apparently have a past involving my godfather, and it is not a good one, considering that you would so readily wish to imprison him and make his life hell."

"If you recall, I let him go as soon as you offered yourself up in his place," the earl informed Harry, growing annoyed. "Now, will you join me for dinner, or not?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. But may I be permitted to walk in the gardens first?" he asked with a biting tone. "I've not seen Buckbeak yet today."

Severus did his best not to roll his eyes again. "Very well, on the condition that you stay out of the potions garden," he allowed, and Harry nodded at him. "Very well. Master Longbottom will be along before dinnertime to assist you in selecting a proper evening suit, and to show you to the dining room."

"Very well," Harry said back, deliberately looking away from the man as he left, but failed to do so completely, as he got an eyeful of the man's arse from beneath his black robe, and cursed himself, knowing that that simply would not do.

~*~

"You are blinded by your hatred of the man!" Remus raged at Sirius.

Sirius affixed Remus with a glare; they had been going in circles about Harry's imprisonment by Severus Snape for over an hour, and Remus had not left Grimmauld since his arrival the day before. "I have good reason to hate him, Remus," he growled back.

"Why? All because James hated him?" Remus demanded.

Sirius grimaced at the man. "Don't speak of James—"

"And why not?!" Remus yelled back. "Because you cannot even admit to Harry that the only reason you took custody of him was because you were in love with James, and clearly see Harry as his replacement?!"

Sirius felt his face redden at the very suggestion. He loved James, of course, but merely as a best friend, or a brother in arms against Slytherin House—most notably Severus Snape. He would have never fancied himself in love with James, for James had fallen for Muggleborn Lily Evans almost immediately after their fifth-year had begun. "I was not in love with James."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Could have fooled me, Pads," he muttered.

"I didn't love James, for Merlin's sake!" Sirius screamed. "I've loved someone since school, the same bloke since the beginning, and it was never James, never!"

Remus shook there, sensing something passing between the two of them, before he launched himself forward and yanked Sirius into his arms, kissing the man breathless. When he finally pulled away, he saw that Sirius's startling blue eyes were glazed over. "I... I'm sorry," Remus said, shaking his head as he let him go. "I shouldn't have..."

"Stop," Sirius said, before clutching at Remus's hand and dragging him back. The man smiled up at his friend, kissing him. "What took you so long?" he whispered.

Remus sighed. "That I don't know..." He hesitated for a moment. "Harry..."

"Yes, Harry," Sirius replied, wrapping his arms around Remus's neck. "Two heads are better than one, Moony. Let's figure this out together," he said.

Remus nodded. "Yes, and we shall," he replied.

~*~

Harry sighed, and permitted Neville to change him into his evening suit. He had seen to Buckbeak for the last two hours in the gardens, with the hippogriff enjoying himself as he permitted his hooves to crunch through the thickening layer of snow. More than once, Harry had looked up towards the manor, and had seen the earl staring down at him. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, as there were plenty of things that it did to his insides.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said, once the young man had finished dressing him. He then permitted Neville to lead the way, and was taken to a large dining room off the kitchen, and nodded his thanks a second time. Stepping in, he took his seat at the foot of the table, as the earl had already arrived, and knew that it would irk the man that he had sat without permission.

"And how did you find the gardens?" the earl asked.

Harry gritted his teeth. "You were watching me," he replied. "You seem to want to order me about, so perhaps you can explain to me how I was feeling for the few moments of freedom you permitted me to have."

"I believe we discussed etiquette earlier, when I told you that I would not be merely requesting your presence at dinner," the earl drawled.

"We may have discussed it," Harry replied, lifting up the silver goblet, studded with emeralds, before him, and casually sipped at the red wine within it. "However, I don't recall informing you that I would willingly respect you. I am already following the commands you've set for me, so I shouldn't be expected to do anything more."

"You may be doing that," the earl allowed, "but you are not doing so happily."

Harry finally looked up at the man. "How can one be happy as a prisoner, with a jailer who insists upon spending time with him?"

"I'm not surprised that you lack etiquette," the earl said as he rolled his eyes again. "With the notion that Black raised you, I think it's nothing short of a miracle that you can form complete sentences."

Harry bristled at that. "He didn't get me until I was five," he replied. "Before that, I was in the care of my mother's elder sister and her husband—Muggles. They had a son, but lavished all their attention, love, and positive interactions upon him."

"Why were you in the care of Black in the first place?"

Harry, who had retained his grip upon his goblet of wine, swirled it around. "I hardly think that is any of your business."

"They probably would have consented to you being whipped for insubordination," the earl said, prompting Harry's eyes to snap onto his.

"I don't believe my mother and father would have approved of such a thing. Pity they are not around to see me being held prisoner," he muttered.

"Oh, yes. I'm quite sure they were as impertinent as you are," the earl growled. "Who are your mother and father, then, boy?" he demanded.

Harry felt himself growing pale then—he absolutely hated that word, for it was what his uncle called him repeatedly, while he was in their care. "James Potter and Lily Evans," he replied, his voice softer.

Severus looked shell-shocked at the declaration. "You are James Potter's boy? That would make you Lord Potter," he whispered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not much for titles," he replied. "Yes, I am a nobleman, and I enjoy certain things connected with that lifestyle, but it does not define who I am, although it certainly did make me some friends, and enemies, while at school."

"Professor Slughorn would have wanted you in the Slug Club, no doubt," the man muttered, and Harry wondered if the earl hated the potions master for Hogwarts as well.

"Likely because of my mother and her aptitude for the subject," Harry said softly. "Although I did not improve much until my sixth-year."

"What was so spectacular about your sixth-year?"

"I stumbled upon an old potions book," Harry said with a shrug. "It had plenty of notes on how one could improve the potions, and I was able to understand it far better than that of Professor Slughorn's ramblings or obvious attempts at favoritism."

The earl inclined his eyes. "So, it appears we agree upon something," he acknowledged, as the soup course magically appeared in front of them.

Harry stared at the generously-sized bowl beneath him, and inhaled the creamy-looking mixture, which his nostrils identified as potato and leek soup. "I suppose we do," he allowed, and only picked up his soup spoon after his jailer had done so, and took a tentative taste of the thick soup in front of him.

He was loath to admit it, but it was rather good.