Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XVI

"Get out."

Lyra watched the house elf hop from the velvet seats of the carriage, pushing open the door with a fervour that took Lyra aback. For such a small being, Kreacher had an intense behind him. She didn't dare go against the elf and followed behind quickly, hissing as the harsh cold sliced across her cheeks like a bad curse. The carriage driver placed his top hat over his face, leaning back against the snow coated carriage as Kreacher tugged the blonde along towards a slight hill in the grassy field around them.

Before Lyra was truly aware of what she was committing to, her feet landed on snow covered concrete in the centre of London.

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There were stories about the ancient Black family home. Some say it was haunted with the most horrid ghosts within the Wizarding World. Others said it was a vast mansion behind an acre long cemetery full of the Black family's victims. No one ever gave the possibility of a townhouse that looked as though it was one harsh gust of wind away from falling over. Bricks were crumbling around the windows and the door was chipping its paint.

The inside was something beautiful, however. It was a gothic home with deep plum wallpaper filled with various rosary designs, ancient paintings of previous Black family members littering the walls. The carpets were pristinely cleaned, and the onyx trim was gleaming bright. Witches and wizards draped in massive hoods scuttled around in front of Lyra, whispering to small beings in their hands. Harsh voices sneered at one another from the kitchen, yelling at Lyra to turn around and run back home to the warmth of her mother's embrace and father's words. The only thing keeping her from completely throwing in the towel was the fact that Kreacher was watching her like a hawk, waiting to strike on his prey.

"The guest has arrived," Kreacher snarled as he and Lyra arrived at the threshold of the kitchen, "Master Black's guest, that is."

"Lyra," his voice whispered, "You look lovely."

The Regulus Black that stood in front of Lyra was not the boy she had become close with over the previous months at Hogwarts. He no longer wore his loose-fitting black dress shirts, instead, he wore a terrifyingly dark button up that hugged his trimmed figure like a second skin, dark green accents covering the collar. A flattering fitting pair of slacks covered his pants and a long trench coat with the Black family emblem on the front pocket, dark green lapels on the raised shoulders. His unruly hair was no longer unkempt, but neatly pulled back into a low bun at the nap of his neck, carefully placed curls escaping to frame his face. He looked like Sirius.

The look on his face was that of something from Lyra's nightmares. It was an exact replica of the imposing man that sat at the very head of the table, staring down Lyra with a devious glint in his eyes. Orion Black was the very being that Lyra feared the most in the world. He was terrifying, the hard-set look in his eyes made shivers run down her spine, reminding her of the power the people in the room held.

What scared Lyra the most, however, and would keep her up at night, was the woman sitting just to the right of Orion. Walburga Black was the opposite of the mother that Lyra was fortunate enough to call her own. She had a cold demeanour and the look that could kill. Walburga had cold and dead eyes that reminded Lyra that this was the woman who made Sirius Black cry. The toughest and most thick-skinned boy that the blonde knew had been abused and mentally tortured by the woman sitting in front of Lyra. She was the reason he had made Lyra's life so miserable, all because she didn't understand that her son required compassion.

"Lyra Potter," Walburga began, her voice as smooth and appealing as venom, "It is an honour to meet the acquaintance. Someone of your esteem will be an excellent addition to our...family."