As the dreds of the afternoon slowly showed itself. The fervent, somewhat unnatural, clatter of a certain ancient house-elf filled the silenced hallway. The elf barely managing to avoid crashing the delicate tea-set as he rushed from one end to the other. His masters call having happened mere moments earlier. It's eyes bulging the slightest as an unnatural smile cut its face at the sight of the lord and lady of the ancient and noble family. Though thanks to his caller's secondary order, Kreacher had to exert an enormous amount of self-restraint as he kept his mouth closed and body still not to be noticed. His magic easily sending the requested set of drinks to their intended targets.
"How goes your little pet project?" His mistress, the one whom he would never dare cross, spoke up. Her voice filling and clearing the silence with ease as the witch idly gazed at the other, across the table.
The wizard on the other side, in truth the formal Head of the family, even if Kreacher knew the real authority laid in an even older wizard's hands, rolled his eyes at the woman's words.
"Well, given the process due, I dare say it'll be another month before I see any positive development out of them."
Kreacher watched as the man turned the daily prophet's page, the barest hint of awe in his own ragged eyes. He didn't know of too many who would dare treat his lady with such blatant disrespect- given the man should've been on his knees when in her company.
"And, how long can we expect their support for?" Walburga Black questioned, idly taking a sip of her tea. The woman making absolutely no reaction to the taste; a fact that would've had him weeping if his mind weren't already preoccupied.
"My public reception aside," The man remarked, the barest hint of a grin on his face, a single recently acquired medallion laid lazily around his neck. The large M emblazoned in the middle meant, admittedly, nothing to the house-elf himself. "I dare say the next decade, at the very least." The man shrugged, merely turning another page, his tea likely going cold- Kreacher promptly started magically,
and more importantly out of sight, heating the liquid inside.
"They are known for their loyalty, the dogs. Still, even if it weren't for long, we need only make sure our interests are clearly outlined in the first storm of new legislation."
Kreacher idly watched as his mistress seemed to nod once, her gleaming eyes turning narrowed as she slowly rose up from her seat.
"Your 'heroics' aside," The woman snorted as she moved down the length of the table. "I do believe that, includingsetting up the resoundingly successful Unspeakable Grant System,"
Kreacher watched as whatever seeming joy the man had started with, promptly vanished from the lord's face. A, mildly, irritated expression instead took over. An expression he'd seen on the man's face countless times before.
Usually, moments before the mistress asked for something, he presumed, was considered outrageous in the eyes of the man before him.
The lunatic.
Nothing was too outrageous for his mistress.
"That's two more reasons to listen to that delightful child."
Kreacher could count the number of those he'd seen capable of not showing his mistress the respect she deserved on one hand. A hand that included the two in control of the Black Family.
"...Out with it woman, how will I anger my father today? I don't imagine he'll be excited enough about the fact the boy has somehow convinced that ragged hat to put him in-" Whatever tirade the man had started, had seemingly died down as he promptly elected to take a deep breath. His eyes momentarily opening and closing as he fixed his gaze before him.
Walburga Black stifled the chuckle at the expression she received, likely knowing that the worst was yet to come.
"Andromeda, it seems, has finally-" The disbelieving tone suggested sarcasm to the gawking elf- Even if he didn't exactly understand the concept itself. "-made her choice."
"...Pureblood?"
Walburga merely raised a single eyebrow at him at the question.
"Would I have bothered to inform you, if it were?"
Kreacher watched as the wizard let out a silent curse, one hand creasing the daily prophet it held.
"...The first Half-blood in the family. What a- I take it there's some good news- Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Because it's not a half-blood either."
Kreacher sucked in a deep breath as he felt the sudden, suffocating, pressure that permeated the air as the man before him slowly set down the paper in his hands and turned to look his mistress in the eye.
"I take it there's a reason for the smile behind that face?" Orion Black questioned calmly, quietly even.
"Sirius-"
"I am not going to my father with a marriage contract that involves a mudblood because his half-mad grandson told-"
Whatever the man had been about to finish with, along with the metaphorical hole he'd dug himself, was promptly silenced with but a single word from his mistress.
And it's future.
"Metamorphmagus," The word had it's intended effect as the man closed his mouth, his earlier anger receding as a calculating expression took over instead. His lord's eyes as gleaming as his mistress's. "Sirius promised us one..."
The woman's own son. The most dangerous thing Kreacher had ever laid his eyes on.
The child that helped prevent one of the greatest tragedies Kreacher had ever had the misfortune to overhear of.
The supplication and servitude of the entire Black Family... Before a filthy Half-blood.
He watched as the woman laid a single hand on her husband's face, taking the seat next to him. The roar of the fireplace signifying their expected, familial, company.
"How long... How many decades has it been? Since our family had one of those?"