Cinders

Sirius Black was very young when his mother died. The illness came quickly. Far too quickly for anyone to understand it properly or cure it. One week, she had been walking through the halls of the Black Family Estate, pale but upright, her voice still soft when she called for him. The next week, she was confined to bed, feverish and barely able to speak. By the time the doctors arrived with more possible solutions, there was nothing left for them to do.

It killed her within days.

The only kindness Sirius could ever say about the disease was that it ended her life swiftly. There was no long suffering filled with months of watching her fade away. One moment she was there, stroking his hair, telling him to behave for his father, and the next she was gone.

The house felt enormous afterwards. Orion Black was not a man who handled grief well. For a year, the estate lingered in quiet mourning with the curtains drawn, and visitors turned away at the gates. Sirius himself wandered the halls alone, half watched over by servants who pitied him. 

Orion remarried within months once he rejoined society, mostly so that Sirius would have a mother again. Her name was Walburga. She was tall, elegant, with long dark hair that gleamed like polished obsidian and striking eyes that seemed to miss very little. She looked every inch the high-society lady, and she brought along her own son. 

Regulus was only a year younger than Sirius, and when standing side by side, they could pass as blood siblings, both of them with the same dark hair and high cheekbones. 

Regulus was neat. He stood straight up with perfect posture and spoke with long, eloquent words. Regulus was polished and proper. He listened carefully during lessons and repeated family values with seriousness. Even at his young age, he had ambition and a pompous air about him. 

At first, Sirius tried to be friendly. They were close enough in age to be playmates, after all. But Regulus rarely joined him in the gardens or the stables. Regulus preferred sitting with tutors, learning etiquette, history, and the endless rules of old families.

Walburga praised him constantly in a way that she never praised Sirius. Years passed that way until Orion, too, passed away when Sirius was eleven.

His passing changed everything. Within weeks, Walburga dismissed most of the household staff. Servants who had worked at the estate for years were sent away with little more than a curt thank you.

The house grew colder and emptier. Walburga replaced the missing servants with Sirius himself. It had started small enough, with her asking him for favors such as clearing the breakfast table or sweeping the entryway. 

Soon enough, Sirius was responsible for everything in the household. He woke well before sunrise to prepare breakfast. He collected the eggs and baked bread before the rest of the household awoke. By the time Regulus came down in freshly pressed robes to sit down for eggs and toast, Sirius already smelled like smoke and soap.

He cleaned the household as well. Laundry had to be scrubbed and hung to dry by hand. Floors had to be mopped until they shone, then waxed properly. Heavy rugs were dragged outside and beaten until clouds of dust filled the air. Curtains were shaken and dusted. The fine silver was polished by hand until it gleamed. Fireplaces cleaned of soot and then fires rekindled. 

The work left his hands red and raw, his clothes always smudged with ash or flour or soap.

Walburga never bothered to thank him. Instead, she inspected his work with sharp, critical eyes. “If you are going to live under this roof,” she would say coldly, “you will earn your keep.”

Regulus rarely said anything at all about it. Sometimes he watched from the doorway while Sirius scrubbed the floors. Other times, he passed him in the hall without stopping, dressed in fine clothes, while Sirius wore the same worn shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

The house itself felt different now. By nightfall, Sirius was usually exhausted. Walburga had assigned him sleeping quarters in the attic, which was drafty and cold. Sometimes he found himself too tired to climb all the stairs up to the attic, so he would fall asleep by the dying hearth and wake covered in ash from the fireplace. 

More than once, Regulus made a cutting comment, calling him Cinders because of the ash on his clothes and face, so his name faded away too. 

So Sirius Black—once heir to one of the oldest houses in the kingdom—became little more than a servant in his own home. He wished upon a star more than once that he would be able to leave this dreadful place.

Sirius had considered running away more than once in his life ever since he turned seventeen. Usually, it happened late at night when he was staring out the window from the narrow bed in the attic. He would stare out at the stars, the star he had been named after, imagining what it would be like to simply walk out and never return. 

He knew how to saddle the horses and where the money was kept, and the road that would take him far enough away that no one would find him. Yet every time he imagined leaving, something stopped him from leaving. Often it was that strange, stubborn belief that one day he would take back his father's house, and so he stayed even though he longed to leave. 

It was another morning, like any other. He had been awake long before the sun rose in the sky, the kitchen was already cleaned, and he had prepared breakfast. By midmorning, Walburga had already found fault with the bread being slightly too dry and sent him to do laundry. 

The well sat near the road at the end of a very long path, and he was hauling water to wash the clothes when he heard hooves. It was enough hoofbeats that he paused, glancing up instinctively. 

There was a small procession riding along the road. Four men on brown steeds, and just in the center was a young woman on a flashy white horse. 

She was the first thing he noticed. She had silvery blonde curls spilling over her shoulders, catching the sunlight as she approached. Her bright blue eyes moved across the countryside, and she looked content. 

Sirius realized he was blocking the path, so he hurried to drag the water buckets out of the road, nearly sloshing half the water onto his boots in the process.

“Sorry,” he said quickly as the horses slowed, fumbling with the wooden handles to pull them aside. “I’ll move these—”

“Oh, no, don’t rush on my account,” the girl said gently, her voice warm. 

She was smiling faintly at him. Up close, she looked even prettier than she had from a distance. Her curls were slightly wind-tangled from riding, and the sunlight made her eyes appear startlingly blue.

Sirius straightened awkwardly, wiping his damp hands on his trousers. “Well—” he hesitated, glancing down at one of the full buckets. “You’re welcome to some water if you’d like.”

He lifted one bucket slightly in an offer. One of the men in the group immediately shifted his horse forward as though to block Sirius off. “Your—”

Before the man could say anything further, the girl turned her head and shot him a look that was surprisingly firm. She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she told the man calmly.

The guard hesitated, clearly unsure whether to argue, then reluctantly eased his horse back a few steps. 

Sirius blinked a little at the exchange. She leaned slightly in the saddle, dipping a small cup tied to the side of her saddle into the water. She took a drink and sighed softly in appreciation. “That’s much better.” She nudged the bucket back to him. “Thank you.”

Sirius shrugged a little, suddenly aware that he probably looked terrible. “It’s just water,” he muttered.

One of the men behind her shifted on his horse. “We should carry on soon.”

She glanced toward the road ahead, then back at Sirius, her eyes lingered curiously. "You live near here?" she inquired. 

He nodded toward the estate visible through the trees if you knew where to look. “Unfortunately.”

The corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to laugh. “That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

The guards were growing visibly impatient now. “Your—”

“Yes, yes,” she said lightly, straightening in the saddle again. “Back to the palace.”

“You live at the palace?” he asked. She did not particularly give off the air of nobility that he was accustomed to, or at least not the type that was self-centered and cruel. 

“I am...learning my trade there,” she replied, and she looked back at Sirius once more. “Thank you for the water.” She gave him a small, genuine smile as she gave a light pull at the bridle of her horse and moved on. The rest of the procession followed, horses picking up their feet into a trot down the road until they faded into the distance. 

He watched the road long after they had disappeared. He had no idea who she was, but she had spoken to him kindly, which was rare enough that the memory lingered with him the rest of the day. 

Most of the time, Walburga was critical and perpetually displeased. It had been weeks since he met the girl who worked at the palace, her memory still haunted him on some days.

Sirius had just returned to his father's study after scrubbing the floors for the third time that week, his shoes slightly damp as he paused outside the study and glanced inside.

Regulus was seated at the long desk by the window, a book open in front of him. His back was perfectly straight, his posture so rigid it looked painful. He was reading French aloud, trying to sound impressive. “Je suis—” he began stiffly.

Sirius hovered awkwardly near the doorway, holding the envelope that had arrived through the mail system not ten minutes earlier. Usually, he was not permitted to interrupt Regulus's lessons, but the envelope was stamped with the royal crest. 

He cleared his throat.

Walburga looked up sharply. “What is it, Cinders?”

“A letter,” Sirius said, holding it out.

She snatched it from his hand without a word. Regulus continued his reading louder now, determined to drown out Sirius's presence. 

Walburga broke the wax seal quickly and unfolded the letter, her eyes moving across the page quickly. Her expression shifted into something that Sirius almost didn't recognize. It looked like delight. Sirius rarely saw Walburga happy these days. 

“Regulus,” she said suddenly, waving a hand in his direction. 

Regulus continued his reading, squinting at the letters. 

“Regulus!” she snapped.

He jumped slightly at her tone and lowered the book a few inches to look at her. “Yes, Mother?”

Walburga was practically glowing now. “Stop reading.”

Regulus frowned faintly but closed the book obediently. “What is it?”

Walburga held up the letter, her eyes glittering. “Regulus… this could be it,” she said in a rush. “The way for us to get back into high society.”

Regulus leaned forward a little, intrigued now. “What do you mean?”

Walburga smoothed the letter and read it again. “The King is hosting two masquerade balls.” Walburga continued, her voice gaining energy. “The princess is turning eighteen in a month's time.”

She smiled. “Which means she’s eligible to be married off.”

Regulus’s interest sharpened instantly. Sirius stayed where he was by the door, quiet and invisible, the way he had learned to be.

Walburga paced slowly across the room as she spoke, clearly already imagining it. “Nobles from across the kingdom will attend,” she said. “Princes. princesses, dukes, wealthy heirs. Families who matter.”

She turned back toward Regulus with an appraising look. “You could impress the young lady.”

Regulus straightened slightly at that. “The princess?”

Walburga waved a hand dismissively, her eyes gleaming. “Even if you don’t win over the princess herself, the ball will be the perfect opportunity to meet the daughters of nobles. Girls with money and influence.”

Regulus looked thoughtful now. “That could certainly be… advantageous.”

“Yes,” Walburga said sharply. “Very.”

She looked him up and down critically, already assessing his appearance. “You’ll need proper attire. The latest fashion.”

Her gaze flicked toward Sirius. “You,” she snapped. 

Sirius straightened automatically at being addressed. “Yes?”

She snapped her fingers impatiently. “Run on down to the village.”

Sirius stared at her. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” she said coldly. “Tell the tailor that we need a fresh suit made for Regulus.” She glanced back toward him, reconsidering. “No, make it three suits.”

Regulus looked quite pleased at the news as Walburga continued briskly. “We need to impress the ladies.”

Sirius stood there for a moment, still holding the empty envelope. Walburga’s eyes narrowed. “Well? Why are you still standing there?”

He quickly set the envelope on the desk and turned toward the door. “Yes, ma’am.”

Behind him, Regulus was already opening his French book again, and Sirius could hear Walburga’s voice rising excitedly as he left the room. “If you play this correctly, Regulus, this could change everything.”

Sirius stepped out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind him. For a brief moment, as he headed toward the village road, he wondered if the ball would be full of people like the girl he had met by the well. He also wondered if she might be there. 

Preparations began immediately after Sirius returned from the tailor with the appointment times.

Walburga moved through the house as though she'd been possessed. The tailor Walburga chose was one of the finest in the region, a small shop in the village with tall windows. Two days later, Regulus stood on a raised platform while the tailor circled him with careful precision.

“Lift your arms, please,” the man said politely.

Regulus obeyed, and pins flashed between the tailor’s fingers as he adjusted fabric against Regulus’s shoulders, smoothing the dark material across his chest.

Walburga watched with intense focus. “This one should emphasize his posture,” she said. “He carries himself well.”

The tailor nodded approvingly. “Yes, very fine shoulders.”

Regulus looked pleased at this compliment. Sirius sat in a chair against the wall, feeling deeply out of place. He was still wearing the same rough clothes he used for housework. He felt a bit like a muddy boot left in the corner of a ballroom.

Every so often, Walburga’s gaze would slide toward him, and she kept frowning at him. “You look absolutely dreadful,” she muttered once under her breath.

Sirius said nothing. He knew better than to argue with her. 

The fittings themselves took forever. The tailor wrote down the measurements for the sleeves. Adjustments to the waistcoat and different button colors assessed. Fabric swatches were held up to Regulus’s face to determine which colors made him look the “most refined.”

Three suits were ordered in total. All of them beautiful, and entirely wasted on someone Sirius suspected would spend most of the evening discussing politics instead of dancing.

If he'd thought that the tailor’s shop had been tedious, Walburga’s dress fittings were something else entirely. Those took place at the seamstress shop closer to the palace, further into the Kingdom than Sirius had been allowed before. 

The shop itself smelled overwhelmingly of rose perfume. The scent hit Sirius the moment he stepped through the door, thick and sweet enough to make his head spin slightly. Everywhere he looked, there were gowns. Silk and velvet with deep jewels stitched into the bodice, or else lighter dresses glittering with beads and crystals that caught the light from every angle. Women moved through the room in soft rustling sounds, murmuring about lace and embroidery and ribbons and jewels.

Walburga immediately fell into conversation with the shopkeeper. “I need something appropriate for a royal ball,” she said smoothly.

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Oh, of course.”

Walburga disappeared behind a dressing screen while assistants adjusted hems and pinned seams.

Before Sirius knew what was happening, bolts of fabric were appearing from every direction. “Hold this,” one assistant told him. 

He found himself holding a gown of deep emerald silk. “No, not like that. Properly.” She reached to adjust his hold. He held another one, this one pale gold with tiny crystal beads along the neckline.

He watched as Walburga tried on various dresses, and he lost count of which ones looked less like a dessert table. 

“Do you think the blue or the ivory is more flattering?” Walburga demanded suddenly. 

Sirius looked up from the floor. “I… don’t know?”

She frowned at him. “Useless.”

She turned to Regulus instead. “What do you think?”

Regulus studied the gowns that his mother held. He looked passably like a young lord. “The blue,” he said finally.

Walburga beamed. “Yes. I thought so too.”

The assistants nodded enthusiastically. Sirius continued sitting there with an armful of silk that probably cost more than everything he owned combined.

The entire process lasted several more hours, in a blur of more pins and jewels and glittering, dazzling gowns held up in mirrors from every angle. Sirius found the whole thing incredibly boring.

Especially because Walburga asked for his opinion just often enough to remind him she didn’t care about it. “What about this one?”

“It’s… nice?”

She barely glanced at him before turning back to Regulus. “Regulus?”

“The neckline is too plain,” he said with a frown. 

“Yes, exactly what I was thinking.”

Sirius exhaled quietly and leaned back against one of the mirrors lining the wall, shifting the dresses he was holding so they didn’t drag on the floor.

That was when he noticed her, in a flicker of movement in a reflection of one of the many floor-length mirrors around the shop. A girl standing near the far end of the shop, her silver blonde hair gathered loosely behind her in a braid. She was dressed in pale pink as two seamstresses were holding gowns up to her shoulders, turning her toward the mirrors. 

The first one was green, a soft forest shade that made her eyes brighter. The other was silver, pale and luminous, catching the light every time she moved.

Sirius tilted his head. It was her, the girl from the well. He watched her turn slightly in the mirror, studying the dresses with a thoughtful little crease between her brows.

When she caught him looking in the mirror, her eyes widened just a fraction in the reflection before she turned around properly to face him. “You,” she said, surprised.

Sirius shifted awkwardly under his armful of fabric. “I remember you,” he said.

She smiled a little. “From the well.”

He nodded.

One of the seamstresses lifted the green gown up to her again. “What do you think of this one?”

She ignored the woman entirely. Instead, she held the green fabric to her shoulder as she looked at him. “Green,” she said. She picked up the silver one and draped it across her arm. “Or silver?”

“You’re asking me?” he asked in surprise. 

“Yes. Which one looks better?” 

He looked at her properly, eyes flicking between the green that looked lovely and then the silver that shimmered against her hair. 

“You'd look beautiful in both,” he said honestly.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “That isn’t helpful,” she frowned at her reflection in the mirror.

He considered for a long moment before he said slowly, “If you want someone to notice you, dress like the stars.”

She looked up from the green, her eyes narrowing a little. “The stars?”

He nodded toward the silver. “People can never look away from the stars.”

She looked at him, and something bright flickered in her eyes. 

Before she could answer, an assistant hurried across the room. “Lady Black will be ready shortly,” the woman said sharply, already gathering the gowns from Sirius’s arms.

Across the shop, right on cue, Walburga’s voice snapped through the room. “Cinders! Where are you? I’m nearly finished—come carry this.”

Sirius winced slightly and nodded an apology to the girl. He handed the dresses he was holding to an assistant and stepped away, already hurrying across the shop to Walburga's side. 

When he glanced back, the girl was already turning toward the seamstresses again. “I’d like to try another one,” she said thoughtfully.

“What color would you like?” one of the women asked.

Sirius was halfway across the room when he heard her answer. “Midnight blue, please.” 

By the time they left the dress shop to look at another one further up the road, Walburga glanced at him with open irritation. “You look like a stable boy,” she complained.

Sirius looked down at his worn sleeves. “Probably because I spend most of my time working like one.”

She sniffed sharply, already turning away. “Well, try not to embarrass me while we’re in public.”

Regulus walked beside her in one of his neatly pressed cloaks, looking perfectly composed.

Every evening leading up to the ball, Walburga summoned Regulus into the sitting room after supper to practice. Sirius was ordered to sit on the couch across from him to pretend to be a young lady whom Regulus might approach at the ball. 

The first evening, Walburga corrected Sirius's posture within seconds. 

“Sit up straight,” she snapped at him. “You look like a sack of grain.”

So Sirius rolled his shoulders back and sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa while Regulus stood near the fireplace rehearsing conversations that might captivate a young lady. 

Walburga sat in her high-backed armchair, presiding over the entire scenario, offering mild critique. 

“Again,” she said.

Regulus nodded seriously. He clasped his hands behind his back and attempted a confident smile. “My lady, it is an honor to meet you this evening. Your family’s estate near the southern coast is quite well known for its vineyards.”

Walburga tilted her head critically. “Better, but soften the tone a little.”

Regulus tried again, clearing his throat. 

Sirius stared at the carpet as different polite greetings and carefully crafted compliments were practiced. 

Sirius had to listen to all of it because sometimes Walburga would suddenly turn toward him to ask for his opinion or to criticize him.

“You,” she said sharply.

Sirius looked up warily. 

“Smile.”

He forced his face into something that vaguely resembled a pleasant expression.

Regulus approached him again, politely since Sirius was supposed to represent a young noblewoman.

“Good evening,” Regulus said smoothly. “I was wondering if you might enjoy a dance later this evening.”

Sirius nodded awkwardly. “Uh… yes?”

Walburga groaned in frustration. “No, no, no,” she snapped. “Regulus, she must feel admired. Try again.”

Regulus straightened. “Your gown is quite lovely tonight.”

Walburga nodded approvingly. “Yes. That is much better.”

Most of the attempts sounded awful. Regulus sounded less like a charming gentleman and more like someone reciting a textbook. Sirius smiled politely through the painfully dull compliments. 

Walburga eventually studied him with open disdain. “You look like a farm boy.”

Sirius said nothing.

“You’ll never be fit to attend a gathering like this,” she continued sourly. “Frankly, I doubt you would even be fit to scrub the floors at the palace.”

Regulus shifted slightly. He did not meet Sirius's gaze, instead looking over Sirius's left shoulder. 

Sirius kept his expression neutral. He was used to it. Years of Walburga’s insults had worn the sharp edges off them. He knew better than to argue because that meant some kind of punishment, or no dinner. 

Dinner itself wasn’t much to miss. Walburga and Regulus ate at the table while Sirius stood nearby with a pitcher in case something was needed.

When they finished, he cleared their plates, and if he was lucky, there were scraps left. A crust of bread, pieces of roasted meat, or half a potato. 

He ate those in the kitchen once they’d gone to bed.

Sirius’s hands were nearly raw by the time the evening of the ball rolled around. The entire day had been a blur of errands, complaints, and endless adjustments.

Regulus had woken early and immediately begun barking instructions. “The shoes pinch, fix them at once.”

So Sirius had knelt on the floor with a small wooden stretcher and worked the leather until it softened, while Regulus decided the cuffs of his shirt were sitting wrong. "Cinders, look at this. Do you see how uneven that is?”

To Sirius, it looked perfectly in order, but he spent the next fifteen minutes carefully adjusting the fabric while Regulus stood in front of the mirror, examining every angle of his reflection.

Sirius spent another hour attempting to make Regulus's curls look effortless. He spent time coaxing the curls into sitting just right, smoothening them with oil, and pulled a few strands loose again when Regulus complained it looked too stiff.

“Not like that,” Regulus said irritably. “You’re flattening it.”

“I’m trying not to,” Sirius muttered.

“Well, try harder.”

Walburga's mounting stress by midday meant she had started to complain about the state of the house as though the ball was being held in their sitting room. 

“There are smudges on the floors,” she announced after walking through the hallway and staring at them. 

Sirius spent hours scrubbing them on his knees until the polished stone reflected the light from the windows so brightly that it hurt his eyes after a while. His hands were red from the soap and rough cloth by the time Walburga inspected the floor again.

She still looked dissatisfied, but the seamstress had just arrived for Walburga’s final dress fitting. That meant Sirius was spared having to clean the floor again, as instead, he spent the rest of the afternoon following them around with a small pincushion.

Walburga stood on a stool while the seamstress crouched around the hem of her dress. “I told you it wasn’t straight,” Walburga said sharply.

“It’s very nearly perfect, madam,” the seamstress said gently.

“Nearly is not good enough.”

“Cinders,” Walburga snapped, and he stepped forward automatically. “Pins.”

He handed them over one by one while the seamstress made tiny adjustments to the silk. The dress itself was extravagant—deep emerald green fabric layered with delicate lace and small crystals that glittered when the light caught them across the bodice.

Walburga studied herself in the mirror critically. “It still looks uneven.”

“It’s perfectly aligned, now, madam,” the seamstress insisted.

Walburga sniffed but allowed her to continue.

Between fittings and preparations, she found plenty of time to criticize Sirius as well.

“You look dreadful,” she said at one point, looking him up and down.

Sirius had been holding the train of her gown at the time.

“You’re pale.”

He said nothing.

“You look sickly.”

He kept his eyes on the fabric. 

“You should try standing up straighter. At least pretend you have some dignity.”

Sirius kept his eyes on the floor even as he rolled his shoulders back a little to appease her. 

Later in the afternoon, Walburga turned her attention to the masks. The ball required them as it was an elaborate masquerade hosted by the King in honor of the princess’s eighteenth birthday.

Walburga had already purchased a mask, but apparently it was not sufficient. “It needs more jewels,” she declared.

The seamstress looked uncertain. “It already has quite a few.”

“More.”

Sirius ended up holding the mask while small crystals were stitched carefully along the edges.

Regulus’s mask was much simpler. Midnight blue velvet with subtle silver trimming, elegant, understated, and perfectly matched to his suit.

Walburga approved of it with a nod. “Very refined.”

By the time evening approached, everyone in the house was tense. Walburga barely touched her supper. She kept glancing toward the clock, adjusting her gloves, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her dress.

Regulus sat rigidly at the table, picking at his food without really eating it.

Both of them were clearly too anxious about the evening to focus on anything else, which meant Sirius finally had the chance to eat properly. When they pushed their plates away half-finished, Sirius carried them back to the kitchen and sat down with the leftovers.

There was roasted chicken, bread, and cheese remaining on both plates. He ate slowly, savoring it. It was easily the best meal he’d had in weeks.

Minutes later, he was preparing the horses and carriage. From the sitting room, he could hear Walburga calling out last-minute instructions as she descended the stairs with Regulus.

“Regulus, make sure you greet the duke first when we arrive.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And remember, confidence.”

Sirius watched them file into the carriage and disappear into the night. 

Sirius had gone straight to the kitchen, sitting at the counter, tending to his reddened hands. The skin across his palms was red and cracked from scrubbing the floors all day. A few places had split open where the cloth had rubbed too harshly. He had found a small jar of salve and was carefully rubbing it into the worst spots, wincing slightly when it stung.

There was a soft knock at the front door. Sirius froze because no one visited the house this late.

He wiped his hands quickly on a cloth and walked to the door. When he pulled it open, he saw a man standing on the front stoop. 

He looked like a beggar. His coat was worn and patched in several places, and his boots were dusty from travel. His beard was a little unkempt, and his hat looked like it had seen far better days.

The man smiled politely. “Good evening,” he said. “I was wondering if I might trouble you for some water and perhaps a bit of bread.”

Sirius hesitated. Walburga would absolutely have slammed the door in the man’s face and laughed, but she was not here. Sirius also knew all too well what it felt like to be hungry.

“Yeah,” he said, finally taking a step back. “Come in.”

The man stepped inside gratefully, and Sirius led him to the kitchen and gestured toward the kitchen table. “Sit.”

He sliced a thick piece of bread and poured a cup of water, setting both in front of the man. The beggar ate with quiet enthusiasm, clearly hungrier than he’d let on. Sirius leaned against the counter while he waited so that he could clean the table afterwards. 

When the man finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a satisfied sigh. “That was very kind of you.”

Sirius shrugged. “It was just bread.”

The man studied him for a long moment, thoughtful. He said very calmly, “I am your fairy godfather.”

Sirius blinked. “…Okay.” He tilted his head slightly. “What does that mean?”

The man smiled, looking far better than he had a few seconds ago. “Well,” he said lightly, standing from the table, “You are an eligible bachelor, are you not?”

Sirius laughed under his breath. “I’m a house servant.”

“Ah, you look like a house servant,” the man said dismissively. He stepped closer, looking Sirius up and down like a tailor. “Certainly you would want to try to win the princess’s heart.”

Sirius frowned slightly. “I met a girl once,” he said after a moment. He would still see her bright blue eyes and silver curls. “Not the princess. She was probably the daughter of nobility, though,” he added. “I wondered if maybe she’d go to the ball.”

The fairy godfather hummed thoughtfully. “And you’d like to see her again.”

“Yes,” Sirius admitted.

The man had already produced a measuring tape from somewhere inside his coat. “Stand still.”

Sirius blinked again as the man began circling him briskly. As he walked, the man no longer hunched over, in face he looked rather young now. Clean-shaven, with sandy brown hair and kind eyes, he tapped the measuring tape to measure along Sirius's chest, shoulders, arms, and waist. 

The tape snapped lightly through the air as he worked.

“What are you doing?” Sirius asked cautiously, watching the tape measure his feet now. 

“Fitting you.”

“For what?”

The fairy godfather flicked his wrist, and a stick of wood sent a shimmer of magic through the room. Fabric seemed to appear from thin air, silver cloth that draped itself smoothly around Sirius’s shoulders before tightening and shaping itself into a suit.

The entire thing happened in seconds, and Sirius found himself staring down at himself, blinking in shock. 

The suit was beautiful. Silver in color, not too flashy. The jacket fit perfectly across his shoulders, the waistcoat snug but comfortable, the trousers tailored exactly to his height.

He looked like someone else entirely. “My magic will ensure you are unrecognizable to your stepmother and brother,” the man said cheerfully.

Sirius touched the sleeve in disbelief. “How—?”

The fairy godfather lifted a mask. It was silver as well, delicate and elegant, shaped to fit smoothly over the upper half of Sirius’s face. “This should do nicely.”

Sirius raised the mask slowly and fastened it to the right fit until it was snug. It matched the suit perfectly.

“You’ll fit in with the nobles just fine,” the fairy godfather said.

Sirius looked up. “You’re certain?”

The man smiled. “Quite.”

Sirius hesitated for only a second as he lifted his eyes to the reflection in the kitchen window. For the first time in years, the young man who blinked back at him did not look like a servant. 

The palace was unlike anything Sirius had ever seen. Even from outside, it had been impressive, tall with white stone walls, towering windows glowing with candlelight, banners fluttering in the night air. Carriages lined the courtyard in neat rows while servants hurried up and down the steps, escorting guests inside.

The inside of the palace was dazzling. The ceilings seemed impossibly high, painted with murals of golden skies and mythic scenes. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, scattering light across the polished marble floors so that the entire ballroom glittered like it had been dusted with stars.

Music floated through the room, violins and harps weaving together in elegant melodies while couples drifted across the floor in sweeping dances.

Sirius stepped into the ballroom and simply stood there for a moment, taking it all in. He had spent so long scrubbing floors and hauling water that a place like this felt unreal. The light, the silk gowns, the soft laughter echoing through the hall, it all felt like stepping into someone else’s life.

He adjusted the silver mask slightly and tried to look less stunned than he felt as he entered the ballroom. 

Almost immediately, he spotted Regulus. His brother stood near one of the tall columns with a small group of girls gathered around him. His midnight blue suit fit him perfectly, his posture immaculate as always. He was speaking in smooth, practiced French, the same phrases Sirius had been forced to listen to for weeks.

The girls were clearly impressed, tittering around him admiringly. Regulus looked very pleased with himself as the girls leaned in close to listen to him. 

Sirius quietly moved in the other direction. Not far away, he caught sight of Walburga. She stood among a group of women dressed in elaborate silks and sparkling jewels, her emerald gown shimmering beneath the chandeliers. She looked perfectly at ease, laughing softly as she spoke with them.

Sirius felt a strange flicker of disbelief. If she had seen him now and recognized him, she would have fainted on the spot. He kept moving. 

He wandered slowly along the edges of the ballroom, pretending to study the paintings and statues while mostly observing everyone else. Nobles spoke in quiet clusters, and a few couples danced gracefully across the floor. Servants slipped silently between the guests, carrying trays of champagne and other refreshments. 

Sirius felt like he was watching a world he had never been allowed to belong to. He had just turned to step around a girl in a sunshine yellow dress when he spotted her. 

She stood near the edge of the dance floor wearing a dress of pale blue silk that shimmered softly in the candlelight. Her silvery hair had been twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head, though a few loose curls had escaped around her temples.

The moment he saw her, he knew it was her again. The girl from the well and the seamstress's shop. The one who had smiled at him, who spoke to him as though he was someone worth speaking to.

Sirius walked toward her almost without thinking. When he reached her side, the words slipped out before he could stop them. “It’s you.”

She turned quickly, her blue eyes widened slightly in recognition, then she frowned just a little. “I never thought I would meet you at the palace.”

His eyes caught on the silver crown that balanced delicately on her head. Sirius laughed quietly. “I thought you said you worked here.”

She glanced past him politely, smiling at a passing noblewoman who curtsied slightly as she walked by. She looked back at him. “I do work here,” she replied calmly. “In a way.”

Sirius studied her for another moment. “You’re the princess,” he said softly.

She looked at him with a small, amused smile. The pale blue silk of her gown caught the light as it moved. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

Sirius froze. “I don’t know how to dance.” It came out a little sheepishly, almost apologetic. 

She smiled again. “Take my hand.”

He did.

“Follow my lead,” she told him with an encouraging smile.

Sirius nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. She glanced toward the cluster of musicians in the corner, who shifted to a gentler piece, a slow, graceful melody. 

The princess stepped closer and placed one of her hands in his. “Like this,” she murmured. Her other hand rested gently against his arm as she guided him into the first step. To his own amazement, he found himself following. At first, he expected to stumble. Sirius had never danced a day in his life. His days were usually filled with hauling water, scrubbing floors, and dodging Walburga’s temper.

The steps were simple enough. She moved first, and he mirrored her. 

A turn.

A step.

Another turn.

The music carried them easily, soft and elegant. She made it look effortless. She was graceful without even trying. Every movement seemed to flow naturally, her pale blue dress sweeping softly around her ankles as they turned. The light from the chandeliers caught in the tiny details of the fabric so that she seemed to shimmer with each step.

Sirius found his eyes drifting back to her again and again. The curve of her lips as she smiled, his gaze caught on a loose curl that had escaped from her carefully twisted hair.

Her bright blue eyes met his when she looked up at him. The dance itself, thankfully, wasn’t complicated, just soft turns and gentle steps that followed the quiet rhythm of the music.

After several moments, Sirius relaxed slightly. “You should have told me you were the princess,” he said quietly.

She completed another graceful turn beneath his arm before answering. “I did not want to scare you.”

He raised an eyebrow in return. “Scare me?”

She gave a small tip of her chin as they turned again. “I do not need everyone to bow to me.”

Sirius snorted softly. “Fair.”

The music carried them through another slow pass across the floor. Sirius glanced around the ballroom to see that dozens of people were watching now. Nobles had subtly paused their conversations. Couples on the edge of the dance floor slowed to look as he danced by with her. Even the musicians seemed aware of the attention focused toward the center of the room.

They were all staring at her.

“Doesn’t it ever grow tiring?” Sirius asked quietly.

"A bit." She followed his gaze for just a moment. Her eyes caught on a pair of nobles across the floor who were watching with growing curiosity. Young men, nearly, appeared clearly annoyed that some stranger had claimed the princess’s first dance.

Older women whispered behind gloved hands to each other, eyes bright. 

She observed it all with calm familiarity and looked at him. “Does it scare you?” she asked, looking at the crowd. 

Sirius looked back at her, his chin lifted slightly. “No,” he said honestly.

“Good.”

When the music ended, the dance floor slowly broke apart into polite applause and murmured conversation.

Sirius released her hand, expecting the moment to end. After all, she was the princess; surely the next thing would be a line of eager noblemen waiting to ask for their turn.

Instead, she stepped away from the dance floor and glanced toward the tall glass doors that opened onto the terrace, and glanced back at him. “Walk with me.”

He blinked in surprise but followed, unsure if it was an order or a request. They slipped through the doors and onto the wide marble terrace outside the ballroom. The cool night air was a relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

Lanterns flickered softly along the stone railing, but beyond their glow the sky stretched dark and endless above the palace gardens. The music drifted faintly from inside while the distant sounds of fountains and rustling trees filled the quiet.

She stepped toward the railing and tilted her head upward. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

Sirius followed her gaze instinctively. The sky was clear, scattered with bright points of silver light that glittered against the deep blue darkness. “Most of my family is named after the stars,” he said.

She glanced at him curiously. “That's...unique.”

He shrugged slightly. “Old tradition.”

She tilted her head. “Royalty usually gets named after generations before. Kings and queens from centuries ago.”

He leaned against the railing beside her. “That sounds boring.”

That earned him a small laugh. The stars were especially bright as they drifted further away from the palace lights.

Sirius lifted a hand and pointed. “Do you want me to tell you about them?”

She looked at him again, intrigued. “The stars?”

He nodded.

“Oh yes,” she said eagerly. “In my lessons, I've learned the names of the stars but never any of the stories.”

Sirius smiled faintly. “Then you're missing the best part.” He raised his hand toward the sky again. “See that one?”

She nodded. 

He traced a rough line with his finger. “That’s Orion. The hunter.”

She leaned slightly closer, following the direction of his hand.

“He was supposed to be the greatest hunter in the sky,” Sirius continued. “Strong enough that even the gods took notice of him.”

“And those three there?” she asked softly, pointing to another cluster.

“Orion’s Belt.” He traced the line for her in the sky, watching the three bright stars in a neat row. “Once you find that, you can find the rest of the constellation pretty easily.”

She studied it carefully. “I never noticed how clear it is.”

“Most people don't look long enough.”

She leaned into him a little, studying the pattern. “I’ve memorized the names,” she said quietly. “But it’s very different hearing the stories.”

Sirius pointed again, this time, he picked out his own star. “And that one there.” A single star burned brighter than the others. “That’s Sirius. The brightest star in the sky.”

She smiled faintly as she looked at it. “I’ve heard of that one.”

“It’s supposed to guide travelers,” he said.

Her gaze drifted slowly across the sky again, before she looked back at him. “You know a lot about the stars.”

“My father taught me about them.”

For a while, they stood there together on the terrace, Sirius tracing shapes in the sky and telling her the stories he knew. Music drifted faintly from the ballroom behind them. 

Sirius ended up spending far more time with her than he had ever expected. When he had first stepped into the palace, he had only hoped to see the ball itself, to experience the music, the lights, the impossible grandeur of it all.

He had thought that if he were lucky, he might find the girl he had met by the well. 

Technically… he had succeeded. He just hadn’t expected the girl to be the princess. When the pair returned from the terrace, Sirius had assumed she would disappear into the crowd of noble suitors waiting for their chance.

Instead, she listened to his stories about the stars, and when she did return for another waltz, she looked at him again. 

“Shall we?”

The ballroom had begun to notice. A princess turning down dances from other potential suitors was unusual. 

Several young noblemen approached throughout the evening with careful bows and hopeful smiles. Each time she greeted them politely, graciously even.

When anyone asked her to dance, she declined politely. “Perhaps later,” or “I’ve already promised this dance.”

Her voice was warm and her smile unwavering. No one could accuse her of being rude. But as the noblemen stepped away, she stayed by the gentleman in silver by the edge of the room. 

From his spot above the grand ballroom, the King had started to take notice. He had been watching the floor all evening, specifically his daughter. He had counted the number of dances she had accepted before the stranger in silver, and now he was counting the number of dances with the stranger. 

His daughter looked lovely in a pale blue gown, her silver hair pinned up. Beside her stood the gentleman dressed entirely in silver. The King leaned back slightly in his chair, studying his posture. The man carried himself well. No sign of nerves or crowding her. 

The princess behaved exactly as she had been trained. She greeted nobles with perfect courtesy. She smiled at the ladies who curtsied to her. She thanked the musicians after each dance, every movement was poised, graceful, exactly as a princess ought to be.

Beautiful and almost untouchable. 

The King noted how she avoided dancing with anyone else since the stranger in silver had first appeared. 

Her guards began to grow uneasy when she wandered toward the gardens at one point. The guards kept glancing at the masked stranger, expressions wary. As the evening wore on, a guard stepped forward carefully. “Your Highness, perhaps you should return to the ballroom. There are many guests waiting—”

She turned her head slightly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle. “I will return shortly.”

The guard hesitated, then his training kicked in, and he bowed appropriately, stepping back. 

Sirius glanced at her once they had walked a little farther down the garden path. “You’re very good at that.”

“At what?”

“Avoiding people.”

She laughed softly. “It’s a skill one learns quickly when everyone feels entitled to your time." She leaned against the stone railing, still watching the stars. “I’m hungry.”

Sirius laughed softly. “That makes two of us.”

She turned toward one of the guards standing nearby. “Could you bring us something to eat?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

She glanced at Sirius. “What would you like?”

He shrugged a little. He was not used to being asked what he wanted. “Whatever they have.”

She nodded to the guard. “Fruit, please, with bread and cheese.”

The guard nodded sharply and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, he returned carrying a silver platter that contained slices of warm bread, fresh cheese, and clusters of grapes and berries. There were a few small pastries arranged neatly beside two glasses of wine. 

He set the platter carefully on the terrace table before bowing and stepping back again.

Sirius turned. “That was fast.”

She smiled a little. “When I ask for something, people tend to hurry.”

He picked up a piece of bread and looked at her. “You realize you’re probably supposed to be charming a dozen princes right now.”

She took a small bite of fruit and glanced at him. “Perhaps.” She shrugged, looking unconcerned. “But I’m having a better conversation out here.”

Sirius managed to return to the house barely fifteen minutes before the carriage arrived. The fairy godfather had warned him gently that when the palace clocks struck midnight, the magic would fade. Sirius had slipped away from the terrace with a quick, awkward farewell, promising the princess he would see her again for the second ball. 

He had hurried through the palace corridors, out the gates, and down the road toward home. By the time he reached the house, the silver suit had already vanished, and his carriage had turned back to a handful of mice in the stables.

The elegant shoes had turned back into his worn boots. Now he looked exactly as he always did, in rough clothes, and he mussed his hair by dunking it in a bucket of water so that Walburga wouldn't suspect anything amiss. 

He had just finished putting the kettle on the stove when he heard the carriage arriving outside. Voices followed moments later.

The front door opened as Walburga swept inside first, clearly furious. Her gown rustled angrily as she marched into the sitting room. “The princess danced with some mystery prince all evening,” she snapped.

Sirius carefully kept his eyes lowered as he stepped in from the kitchen with a tray. 

“She barely spared anyone else a single glance of her time.”

Regulus followed behind her, loosening the collar of his coat. Walburga was pacing now, clearly agitated as she snatched a tea cake from the tray. “All evening!” she continued. “I cannot believe the audacity of it. She refused half the noblemen in the room.”

Sirius set the kettle down carefully on the table, keeping his expression neutral. “Regulus,” he said mildly. “How was the ball? Surely it was beautiful.”

Regulus shrugged as he dropped into a chair. “Oh, it was lovely enough.” He sounded slightly distracted, though not nearly as upset as Walburga. “I found a decent number of eligible ladies willing to dance with me.”

Walburga immediately turned back toward him. “But the princess was by far the most beautiful and coveted." She folded her arms, looking cross. “Tomorrow you must speak with the princess during the second ball.”

Regulus considered that as he took off his jacket. “Yes… that would probably be wise.”

Sirius poured the tea carefully. “Do you know if she is kind and gentle?” he asked quietly.

Regulus barely looked up. “Who cares?” He sniffed faintly. “She is royalty.”

Sirius glanced at him for a moment. “I just thought you might want to court someone who suits you.”

Walburga gave him an irritated look. “Suit him?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied simply. He set the two filled teacups on the table. “Are you hungry at all?” he asked. "There is fresh bread and—"

Walburga waved a hand dismissively. “No. I had quite enough at the ball.” She sank into her chair, still looking disgruntled. 

Regulus, however, accepted the tea. “Thank you.”

Sirius placed a small plate of biscuits beside him, and Regulus took a couple without hesitation and took a bite. 

When Walburga spoke again, she was still irritated. “I want to know who that young man was.”

Regulus took a sip of tea. “The one in silver?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t recognize him,” Regulus admitted.

Walburga frowned deeply, puzzled and annoyed. “Well, he must be someone important if the princess favored him so clearly.”

Sirius quietly left the room to return the kettle to the stove. Behind him in the sitting room, Walburga continued muttering about mysterious princes and missed opportunities. Sirius kept his head down as he wiped the counter, but he couldn’t quite stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The following day was worse in many ways. Walburga woke in a temper from the moment she entered the dining room. It was clear that the previous evening had not gone the way she had hoped. Her lips were pressed thin, her movements sharp and impatient as she ate her eggs and toast. 

Sirius recognized the signs immediately. When Walburga was angry, he knew he would pay dearly for it. “You’ve allowed the rugs to collect dust,” she declared barely an hour after breakfast. "You must clean them at once." 

Sirius followed her gaze to the nearly spotless rugs that he'd beaten only three days ago. He ducked his head, “Yes, ma’am.”

So he dragged the heavy rugs outside again after breakfast, beating them was exhausting work. He hauled them over the wooden rail near the back garden and struck them again and again with the broom handle until clouds of dust puffed into the morning air.

His arms were already sore from the day before, when he had to scrub the floors. By the time Walburga inspected them again, his shoulders burned. “They look acceptable,” she said stiffly.

A short while later, she stood in the drawing room staring critically at the furniture. “This arrangement feels wrong. The couch is off-center.”

Sirius paused with a dusting cloth in his hands. He was standing by the mantle, polishing the wood until it shone. 

Walburga gestured sharply. “Cinders, move the couch.”

So he moved the couch, then the chairs, and the small table near the fireplace.

Walburga paced slowly around the room while he rearranged everything. “No, that looks dreadful.”

He moved the chairs again to another arrangement. 

“The couch should be closer to the window.”

He dragged it across the room obediently, looking up through his fringe to find her frowning again. “No. It looked better before.”

By the fourth rearrangement, Sirius was fairly certain they had returned to the exact placement the furniture had started in that morning. 

Walburga seemed satisfied as she circled the room. “Much better.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” He went back to polishing the mantle.

Walburga spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for the second ball. Her maroon dress had already been fitted, but that did not stop her from examining it endlessly.

“It must be dazzling enough,” she muttered as she studied herself in the mirror.

Sirius stood nearby holding the train while she turned slowly back and forth. She took a long time selecting her jewelry. Heavy gold rings with bright stones. Her necklace was gaudy, shimmering with rubies and emeralds. 

“I cannot appear modest at a royal ball,” she said firmly.

Sirius nodded as if this made perfect sense. 

The rest of his afternoon was spent following Regulus around the house. Regulus was debating between his two remaining suits that had been especially tailored for the occasion. His suit from the night before was insufficient.

“I cannot possibly wear the same color twice,” he announced.

One of the suits was maroon, which would match nicely with Walburga's dress. Or there was a sharp emerald one. 

Regulus stood before the mirror wearing the polished maroon suit first. “What do you think?”

Sirius leaned against the wall. “It looks fine.”

Regulus frowned slightly. “Fine is not helpful.”

He disappeared to change and returned minutes later wearing emerald green. “Well?”

Sirius studied him. “That also looks fine.”

Regulus scowled. “You’re useless.”

He changed again. Sirius lost count of how many times the jackets were swapped.

At one point, Regulus demanded Sirius adjust the collar and the cuffs. Sirius spent more hours styling his brother's hair. 

“Does the green bring out my eyes better?”

“I suppose.”

“What about the maroon?”

“It also brings out your eyes.”

Regulus sighed dramatically. By the time the carriage was prepared that evening, Sirius still wasn’t entirely sure which suit had been chosen until Regulus walked down the stairs in the maroon. 

Walburga looked him over approvingly. “Yes,” she said. “That will do nicely.”

Regulus looked satisfied.

Sirius stood by the door while they left once again for the palace, and Sirius found himself wondering if the princess would be looking for the man in silver tonight.

That evening, the fairy godfather did not bother with knocking or any pretenses. Sirius had just finished clearing the dishes when a familiar voice spoke behind him.

“We don’t have much time tonight.”

Sirius turned. The man stood casually in the doorway of the kitchen as if he had been there the entire time. The fairy godfather wore a crisp white suit this time, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“You again,” Sirius said.

“Of course,” the fairy godfather replied cheerfully. “Second ball. Much more important than the first.”

He was already circling Sirius before Sirius could even ask anything else. This time, he did not bother with a measuring tape, and he appeared to have given this evening a lot of thought because he muttered to himself while examining Sirius. “Hm. Silver was excellent last night… but we must keep them guessing.”

A flick of his wand. Two color swatches of fabric appeared in the air, one sleek black, the other a deep midnight blue.

“You just… carry those around?” he asked. 

The fairy godfather ignored him and held up the two colors to Sirius's face. “Black,” he mused to himself and then he shook his head. “The blue is quite striking.”

Another flick of the wand. The blue jacket wrapped itself neatly around Sirius’s shoulders, and Sirius stared down at the sleeves. It was a deep midnight blue, rich and smooth. 

The fairy godfather snapped his fingers, another flick of his wand, and the blue vanished; the black suit replaced it instantly. It looked more elegant. 

Sirius stared at himself. The black was sharper. A little more dramatic.

“Yes,” the fairy godfather decided with a nod of approval. “Definitely black.”

The suit fitted itself to Sirius perfectly in seconds, with clean lines, the white shirt crisp, dark silk lapels and black buttons. 

The mask was black this time, smooth and sleek, shaped perfectly to the upper half of his face.

The fairy godfather tied it behind his head with a satisfied nod. “Unrecognizable again.”

Sirius glanced toward the window. “You think she’ll notice?”

The fairy godfather smiled knowingly. “Oh, I suspect she will.”

It only took a few minutes for the fairy godfather to round up four white mice, a goose, and two lizards. A flick of his wand and a golden carriage sat there, with the goose as a squat man who held the reins, and two footmen dressed in green that glittered like the lizards' skin. 

Sirius found himself walking up the grand staircase of the palace again. The chandeliers glowed even brighter than the night before, if that was possible. The same musicians were tucked into the corner, playing a lively melody. 

The ballroom looked larger somehow, more dazzling than before, or perhaps it was just because he knew what to expect now. There were more nobles packed into the space, the hall seemed fuller and louder. 

The night felt competitive before it had truly begun. Dozens of well-dressed young men moved through the crowd, their attention shifting to the young women who were dressed in finery once again. 

Sirius made two sweeps of the room before he determined the princess had not appeared yet. No flash of silvery blonde curls or the glittering crown in sight. At the grand staircase, more than one hopeful suitor lingered there. 

No one seemed to notice that the mystery gentleman from the evening before was among them. Sirius stepped quietly into the crowd, blending among the nobles.

When the music swelled and then softened, the grand doors at the top of the staircase finally opened, and the entire ballroom seemed to quiet all at once. Every conversation petering out, gazes lifted to the princess who had just arrived. 

When she stepped forward to descend the staircase slowly, Sirius could tell instantly that the dress was more elegant than the night before. Just behind her, two attendants and guards followed her slowly at a respectful distance. 

Her gown was a deep midnight blue, the color of the midnight sky, and the fabric flowed around her like dark water as she moved down the steps. As soon as the chandeliers' light from above caught on her dress, her gown turned from elegant to stunning. 

There were hundreds of tiny diamonds that had been sewn into the dress in delicate patterns so that when she moved, they shimmered and glowed beneath the lights of the ballroom. 

They resembled stars, stitched in careful constellations across the fabric, as though the night sky itself had reached down and lent her its stars for the evening.

Her silvery hair had been arranged in an elegant twist again, this time only a few curls pinned up, the rest left loose down her back. She looked radiant, every inch the royalty she was meant to be.

Sirius stood near the edge of the crowd, watching her.

The room stirred back to life almost immediately as she reached the last few stairs. Noblemen began positioning themselves carefully around the dance floor, each hoping to be the first to approach her.

She moved through the room with graceful composure, and every suitor received the same polite greeting. A warm smile and a little nod. She curtsied slightly to older nobles, exchanged brief pleasantries with a few young lords, and accepted compliments with perfect grace.

From where Sirius stood, she looked just as he had told her to look if she wanted to be unforgettable. Like the stars. He folded his arms loosely and watched. He wondered briefly if she would even recognize him tonight. He looked completely different. 

The black was sharper. Darker. The mask hid his features just as carefully.

Perhaps she would walk past him without even realizing. Across the ballroom, he spotted Walburga, who stood near one of the tall columns speaking to a cluster of noblewomen again, though tonight her attention was clearly focused elsewhere.

Regulus stood beside her, and Walburga leaned close to him, whispering something sharply. She gave him a small push toward the princess.

Sirius watched with quiet interest as Regulus straightened his jacket and approached with the confident posture he had practiced so carefully. The princess noticed him almost immediately.

Her expression brightened politely and she offered a small curtsy.

Regulus bowed and the pair exchanged a few quiet words that Sirius couldn’t hear from across the room. She smiled kindly as Regulus spoke.

For a moment, Sirius wondered if she might accept a dance, but then she placed a hand lightly over her heart and said something apologetic with that winning smile of hers.

Regulus nodded graciously as he stepped away again. Walburga looked mildly disappointed but tried not to show it.

Sirius was still standing near one of the marble columns, trying very hard to look like he belonged there. A servant passed by carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Sirius took one almost absentmindedly, mostly so he would have something to do with his hands. He watched the dancers intently. 

The bubbles tickled his nose as he lifted the glass to his lips. He had just taken a sip when a familiar voice spoke beside him.

“You are the one I spoke with yesterday.”

Sirius nearly choked, he coughed into his sleeve and lowered the glass quickly, turning toward her.

The princess stood beside him as if she had simply appeared out of the crowd. Up close, the dress was even more breathtaking. The diamonds sewn across the deep blue fabric glittered softly in the candlelight, like tiny constellations scattered across the night sky.

For a moment, Sirius forgot entirely how to speak. He gave another violent cough. “Yes,” he managed finally. He immediately wished he had said something better. Something halfway clever or charming. He resisted the urge to kick himself.

The princess, however, seemed amused. “I recognized you.”

That caught him off guard. “You did?”

She nodded lightly.

When he looked confused, she explained softly. “Your eyes.” She studied his silver eyes for a moment as if confirming it. “And the way you hold yourself.”

Sirius frowned slightly. “What about it?”

She gestured subtly toward the crowd around them. “Most of the people here move like they have spent their entire lives trying to impress one another.”

He glanced around, taking in the young nobles puffing their shoulders up. Others spoke loudly, laughing a little too hard at jokes that weren’t particularly funny.

“And me?” he asked.

“You stand like none of it matters,” she said simply.

Sirius stared at her. “I did not think you would notice me.”

Her lips curved faintly. “You stand out.” Then she tilted her head slightly, studying the sleek black suit. “Even in black.”

Sirius hesitated for a moment, still slightly thrown by the fact that she had found him so quickly in a room full of people. He decided to go with the first honest thing that came to mind. “You look beautiful.”

She gave him a sidelong look, slightly amused. Without asking, she reached out and gently stole the champagne flute from his hand. She lifted it to her lips and took a small sip, her eyes never quite leaving his face. “Do you think flattery will work on me?” she asked.

Sirius shook his head. “I’m not trying to flatter you.”

She lowered the glass slightly, waiting.

“You just do,” he said simply.

She watched him for a moment as if deciding whether she believed him. He added, a little more thoughtfully, “Your hair does look better down.”

That earned a small smile. The night before, her silvery curls had been pinned neatly up in an elegant knot. Tonight, her hair fell in carefully styled curls down her back, catching the light from the chandeliers as she moved. The soft strands framed her face and made her look somehow more like the girl he had met by the well. 

The diamonds sewn into her gown glittered brilliantly whenever she turned, the tiny stones reflecting the golden candlelight so that the deep blue dress seemed almost alive. And her eyes glowed in the warm light of the ballroom, as though the stars were in her eyes. 

She handed the champagne flute back to him. “You’re very direct,” she said.

Sirius shrugged lightly. “It’s easier than trying to sound clever.”

She laughed softly at that.

The music shifted again as the orchestra began another waltz, the violins lifting into a bright, swirling melody that pulled couples back onto the dance floor.

The princess glanced toward the movement of silk and color across the room. Several young noblewomen spun past in graceful turns, their gowns flaring around them like flowers opening. Laughter drifted through the music as partners bowed and changed places.

She watched them for a moment before she looked back at Sirius. “Are you going to ask me to dance?”

He followed her gaze toward the dance floor.

A dozen hopeful young men were already lingering nearby, clearly waiting for the chance to approach her again. Some of them glanced over curiously at the masked stranger standing beside the princess.

Sirius tilted his head slightly. “That depends. Are you going to say yes if I do?”

She held out one gloved hand toward him. “Perhaps.” The small, playful challenge in her voice made him smile.

He took her hand. He tried to do it with confidence, though inside he still felt the same faint nervousness he had the night before.

“I have to say,” he admitted quietly as they stepped toward the floor, “I still don’t know how to dance.”

“That’s okay,” she said lightly. “Because I do know how to dance.”

She guided him easily into the first step, her hand rested lightly in his again, as the music carried them into another slow turn among the swirling couples. He found himself following her lead again. He found himself following her lead again. 

Once they stepped onto the dance floor, Sirius gradually stopped noticing anything else in the room. At first, he was aware of the other couples circling them, the sweep of silk gowns and polished shoes gliding across the marble floor. The orchestra’s music echoed beneath the high ceiling, filling the hall with its rhythm.

The longer the dance lasted and blended into the next, the more the rest of the ballroom faded into the background.

It was as though only she existed. Her hand in his, the warmth of her waist, and the way that the diamonds in her gown caught the candlelight every time she turned, flashing like distant stars.

Her curls brushed the back of her dress as she moved, the silver strands glimmering whenever the chandeliers caught them. Sirius found himself watching her instead of thinking about the steps.

Once, in the middle of a turn, he caught a glimpse of Regulus passing nearby. Regulus was dancing with a woman dressed in a striking shade of violet that shimmered richly under the lights. She was clearly beautiful and laughing at something Regulus had said, her gloved hand resting neatly on his shoulder.

Regulus looked pleased with himself and Sirius wondered if Walburga was watching proudly from the edge of the room.

Just like the night before, several suitors tried to interrupt.

A tall young lord approached during the next change of music and bowed politely. “Your Highness, might I—”

Marlene gave him a warm, apologetic smile. “I'm afraid not.”

Another nobleman tried moments later.

“Perhaps the next—”

“I’m afraid I’m a bit parched at the moment.”

Her voice was always polite and gentle. Each time she found a graceful excuse to remain exactly where she was, next to him. 

Sirius never asked her to refuse them. 

Eventually, the music slowed, and the dancers switched partners again. The orchestra paused briefly between dances, and he stepped back slightly as if giving her the chance to leave.

Marlene stepped back first, releasing Sirius’s hand with a soft breath as the orchestra moved into a quieter piece. “I need some air,” she said softly. 

Sirius nodded, grateful for the reprieve himself. The ballroom had grown warmer as the night wore on, crowded with nobles and heavy with perfume and smoke. They made their way through the crowd toward the tall glass doors leading to the gardens.

As soon as they stepped outside, Sirius noticed the guards shifting into place. Two of them moved almost immediately, falling into position behind the princess with quiet determination.

Marlene noticed too, she gave a faint huff of amusement under her breath. “James.”

One of the guards stepped forward at once. “Yes, Your Highness.” James was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an easy alertness, his eyes flicked briefly toward Sirius before returning to the princess.

Marlene smiled pleasantly. “I’ll only be a moment,” she said. “I just wanted some air.”

James hesitated. “Of course, Your Highness,” he replied carefully.

Marlene tilted her head slightly, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh, Lily mentioned earlier that she was feeling a little thirsty.”

James perked up a little. “Lily?”

“Yes,” Marlene said casually. “She was asking if anyone could bring her some water.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment, and James nodded at the implication. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said quickly.

He turned and immediately headed back into the ballroom. Sirius followed his path with his eyes, as within seconds James had crossed the room and approached a woman standing near one of the columns.

She was impossible to miss. Her hair was a deep, vivid red that caught the candlelight like fire. She wore a gown of soft blue silk that complemented the color perfectly, and when James spoke to her, she looked up with obvious delight.

Her smile was bright and judging by the way she laughed as James offered his arm, she seemed very pleased by the sudden attention.

Sirius glanced back at Marlene. “That was subtle.”

Marlene smiled faintly. “They’ll give us a few minutes now.”

The second guard stood at the edge of the path. He did not move to follow them this time, and Marlene continued walking deeper into the palace gardens, the path stretching in front of them. 

The palace gardens stretched far beyond the terrace, even at night, they were breathtaking. Lanterns had been placed along winding stone paths, casting soft golden light over carefully trimmed hedges and rows of flower beds. Marble statues stood quietly among the greenery, their pale forms glowing faintly beneath the moonlight. In the distance, fountains murmured gently, their water catching the light like scattered silver.

The air smelled faintly sweet from the blooms that filled the gardens. Sirius slowed his steps slightly as they walked deeper along one of the paths. “It’s beautiful out here.”

Marlene nodded. “It’s my favorite part of the palace.”

They passed a cluster of pale flowers that seemed almost luminous beneath the lantern light. She reached out and brushed her fingers lightly over one of the petals. “My mother loved these flowers.”

Sirius glanced at her.

“They grow well here,” she continued. “She used to spend hours walking these paths.” They moved a little farther along the garden, the sound of the ballroom fading behind them. “My father still comes out here sometimes,” she said quietly. “When he thinks of her.”

Sirius followed her gaze across the quiet garden. 

“I hope that one day I might rule with the same gentleness as she did,” she added after a moment. She glanced sideways at him as she said it.

Sirius tipped his head to look at her. “I think you already do.”

She smiled a little at that. “My father rules,” she said lightly. “I am still learning.”

Sirius shrugged. “I’m certain you’ll be a fair queen.”

She tilted her head curiously. “Oh, really?”

He smiled faintly. “After all, I’ve watched you brush off at least ten suitors tonight with a smile.”

They walked a few more steps along the path.

“Perhaps a truly fair princess would have danced with some of them,” she pondered. 

Sirius glanced at her. “You didn’t want to?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.” Then she added with a small smile, “But I suppose that might not be very diplomatic. As there is no ball tomorrow night,” she went on.

Sirius nodded at her words. “I know.”

They walked a few more steps beneath an arch of climbing roses before she added, “So I thought that I might ask for your name.”

Sirius felt his chest tighten slightly. “My name does not matter,” he said.

She slowed her steps, looking at him, studying him. “I would like to see you after this,” she said simply. “How will I find you?”

Sirius hesitated. The answer felt suddenly rather complicated. He imagined her arriving at the Black estate gates. Thought of Walburga answering the door, Regulus standing there while the princess asked after a lowly servant boy who scrubbed floors and hauled water.

He wondered if she would still look at him the same way if she knew all of it. He opened his mouth slowly, still deciding whether or not to answer truthfully when the first chime of the clock tower rang through the night.

The deep sound echoed across the gardens, and Sirius’s head snapped toward the palace tower in immediate alarm. 

Midnight. The fairy godfather’s warning rushed back into his mind. The magic would not last.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, already stepping back. “I have to go.”

Marlene looked startled at his shift in demeanor. “What?”

He was already turning away from her. 

“Wait,” she called after him. “How will I find you?”

Sirius paused only long enough to look back once. “Thank you,” he said breathlessly, “For such a wonderful evening.”

He sprinted down the garden path, past the lanterns and statues, through the open terrace doors, and into the palace corridors. People turned as he rushed past, the black suit flashing between startled nobles and servants.

The clock chimed again as he burst out into the courtyard and raced toward the waiting carriage. Somewhere along the path, his mask slipped loose.

It fell onto the stone walkway behind him, but he didn't even pause to pick it up. He hoped that no one had seen his face anyway, and the guards would have only glimpsed a dark figure running through the night.

He leapt into the carriage just as the driver snapped the reins. The horses surged forward with a clatter, wheels rattling over the stone road as the palace began to shrink behind them.

Sirius barely made it home in time. The carriage had carried him most of the distance from the palace, but the horses changed back into white mice as they reached the winding country roads near the estate. 

By the time Sirius jumped down onto the gravel road, the suit had already begun dissolving. Within seconds, he was standing in the road again in his usual worn clothes, boots scuffed and sleeves dusty. He was already running, his lungs protesting as he sprinted up the last length of the road into the Black Estate. 

Halfway there, he heard the thunder of hooves.

Sirius instinctively stepped aside as several royal guards galloped down the road in formation. Their horses were magnificent creatures with polished tack that gleamed even in the moonlight. The riders wore the King’s crest on their cloaks, clearly searching for someone. 

Sirius kept his head down as they passed. None of them spared him a glance. To them, he was just another servant, perhaps hauling water late at night from the nearby well. By the time he reached the house, he was breathless and sweaty.

He grabbed two buckets and hurried straight back down to the well. The bucket rope burned against his hands as he hauled it up, lowering the second bucket just as the familiar sound of carriage wheels rolled into the drive.

Walburga and Regulus had returned.

Sirius barely had time to set the buckets near the kitchen door before the front door burst open.

Walburga stormed inside in a rage. “I cannot believe it!” she snapped as she swept into the sitting room, hands still glittering with jewels and rings. “The princess found that mystery stranger again!”

Sirius kept his eyes carefully lowered as he carried the water inside. Walburga continued pacing furiously. “He appeared out of nowhere and she spent half the evening dancing with him again!”

Regulus removed his coat slowly, looking slightly weary. Walburga turned sharply toward him. “You should have tried harder.”

Regulus sighed. “Mother.”

“You should have insisted on a dance!”

“Mother,” he repeated calmly, “She was simply not taken with me.”

Walburga frowned.

“She was polite,” Regulus continued, adjusting his cuffs, “But she clearly had no interest in me.”

Walburga stepped closer and straightened his collar with brisk fingers. “My son,” she said firmly, “I just want you to marry well. You are the new Lord Black after all.”

Regulus nodded slightly in agreement.

Sirius quietly placed the water buckets near the kitchen hearth. Walburga had told him years ago, on the day after his father died. Orion had passed the heirship to Regulus. The younger son, bypassing the first entirely.

Walburga resumed her furious pacing by the fire. “And then the mysterious prince vanished again!” she complained. “Just disappeared from the gardens like smoke.”

Regulus poured himself a glass of water as Sirius brought over a pitcher and cups. 

“What happened afterward?” Sirius asked.

“The princess danced with a few eligible gentlemen,” Walburga said sharply. “Finally,” her tone suggested it had been far too late. “But not long after that, she retired for the evening.”

Walburga sniffed in disapproval. “She left the King to manage the end of the ball. I want to know who that young man was.”

Sirius wiped his hands on a cloth near the kitchen door. Walburga was still muttering about mystery princes and missed opportunities as Sirius prepared a round of tea and cakes. 

The days that followed the ball became very busy. Walburga had decided that if Regulus had not secured the princess’s interest, then he would simply have to secure someone else’s.

This meant lots of visits to the countryside and the village to visit with women. Young women Regulus had met during the ball were now being called upon properly, each visit arranged with the careful precision Walburga believed befitted the heir to the Black family.

For Sirius, it meant a great deal of work. Early in the morning, he started in the stables. The carriage had to be spotless. Sirius scrubbed the wheels until the wood gleamed and wiped down every inch of the polished black panels. The harnesses for the horses had to be polished as well, each buckle shining silver. 

Walburga inspected everything. “If the leather cracks,” she warned once, “I will know you have neglected it.”

The horses themselves had to be maintained. Sirius brushed their coats until they shone and combed their manes carefully, working through knots until the strands fell smooth and glossy. By the time Regulus appeared for breakfast each morning, the horses were already prepared for the day’s journey.

Every call required a different look from Regulus, which meant Sirius spent half his mornings trailing behind him in the dressing room while jackets and waistcoats were swapped repeatedly.

“What do you think of this one?” Regulus asked, adjusting the cuffs of a pale grey coat.

“It looks fine,” Sirius said.

Regulus frowned. “You always say that.”

Sirius leaned against the wall. “That’s because they all look fine.”

Regulus sighed dramatically and changed again until Walburga declared he looked properly aristocratic. Eventually, Regulus would settle on something and they would leave for the day’s visit.

Walburga always accompanied them, while Sirius drove the carriage through the countryside, Regulus and Walburga sat inside discussing the young lady they were about to visit.

Once they arrived, Regulus would step out confidently and disappear into the house with the girl and her family. Sirius was left to wait beside the carriage in the sun for hours.

Sometimes it was unbearably hot. Sirius would lean against the horses or sit on the edge of the carriage seat, trying not to faint from the warmth.

Occasionally, a servant from the house would offer him a cup of water. Other times, he was simply ignored.

After hours of visiting, Regulus would return. Walburga would climb into the carriage again with expectations written all over her face. Walburga had an opinion on every single one of the girls who was discussed on the way home. 

“She is very proper,” or sometimes, “Her family’s rank is acceptable, though not impressive.”

“The dowry is respectable,” Walburga had said once. The conversations rarely had anything to do with whether Regulus liked the girl. The focus was on what was deemed important. The girl's pedigree. Her figure. The wealth her family would contribute. Her rank in society. 

“She would be a suitable wife,” Walburga said once thoughtfully.

Regulus nodded mildly. “Perhaps.”

Sirius listened from the driver’s seat, holding the reins quietly.

The King’s decree arrived three days after Regulus visited the girl who had worn the violet dress. It was delivered by a royal messenger riding a tall chestnut horse, the royal crest stamped boldly onto the parchment seal. The man read the proclamation aloud in the village square first before continuing through the surrounding countryside.

By the time the news reached the Black estate, half the countryside knew. Walburga stood in the drawing room while the messenger read the King’s announcement.

“The princess has chosen a suitor.”

Walburga leaned forward eagerly.

“The princess has declared that she wishes to marry the mysterious gentleman who danced with her during the royal balls.”

Walburga’s smile froze as the messenger continued. 

“The gentleman who appeared the first night dressed in silver and the second night dressed in black.”

Sirius stood quietly near the door, pretending to dust a cabinet while he listened.

“The King has therefore ordered that the royal procession travel throughout the kingdom to locate the mysterious suitor. The mask worn by the gentleman on the second evening has been recovered.”

Sirius felt his stomach drop slightly.

“The King has ordered that the mask be tried upon every eligible bachelor in the countryside.”

Walburga’s eyes lit up. The moment the messenger left, she turned to Regulus immediately. “This is our opportunity, my son!”

Regulus looked puzzled. 

“The princess clearly favors the mystery man,” Walburga continued. “If you present yourself properly when the King’s men arrive,” She gestured dramatically. “You must fit the mask perfectly.”

Regulus nodded along. “That would certainly solve things.”

Walburga began pacing. “You must look impeccable when the procession arrives.”

She stopped suddenly and pointed at Sirius. She snapped her fingers impatiently, “You, Cinders.”

Sirius froze. “Yes?”

“The house must shine.”

He sighed inwardly as he ducked his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Walburga’s voice rose with excitement. “The King’s own procession will be coming here.”

Which meant one thing for Sirius. Probably more work. The floors had to be scrubbed again until they gleamed like glass. Every window was polished. Curtains shaken of dust. Furniture was wiped down and rearranged again. The staircase alone took nearly half a day to clean properly.

Meanwhile, Walburga supervised everything, “This house must appear worthy of royal attention.”

Sirius spent the next few days running from room to room trying to keep up with her demands.

Sirius was in the kitchen when the royal procession finally arrived two days later. The morning had been frantic from the moment Walburga woke up. Every room had been inspected twice already, and Sirius had barely finished polishing the silver when Walburga began demanding that tea be prepared.

“Royal officials must be properly welcomed,” she had said sharply.

So Sirius stood in the kitchen, carefully arranging biscuits and small tea cakes onto a tray while the kettle hissed softly on the stove. He tried to focus on the task. Word had already spread through the countryside that the princess still had not found her suitor.

Apparently, the mask had already been carried to several estates that morning, ranging from the commoners to nobles. None of the men who tried it on had fit. The mystery prince had yet to be found.

Sirius poured the hot tea carefully into delicate porcelain cups, setting them neatly beside the plate of biscuits. The tray was nearly finished when he heard the rumble of horse hooves and the wheels of a carriage. 

Walburga’s voice rose in excitement somewhere near the front hall. “They’re here!”

Sirius barely had time to lift the tray before Walburga swept into the kitchen. “Oh, good,” she said quickly. She snatched it from his hands before he could even finish placing the last tea cake. “You’re taking too long.”

Sirius stepped back automatically. Walburga marched out toward the entrance hall carrying the tray herself, leaving Sirius standing behind with the empty kettle.

He followed a few steps behind quietly.

The front doors were already open, with Regulus standing by. Several royal guards stood outside in polished armor, their magnificent horses standing along the fence line. The King’s carriage waited behind them, its crest shining brightly in the sunlight.

One of the King’s officials stepped forward as Walburga approached.

Walburga greeted him with immediate warmth. “Welcome to the Black estate,” she said graciously, offering a polite curtsy. “You must be exhausted from your travels.”

She set the tray down on a table in the sitting room, ushering them all in and beginning to fuss over the visitors. “Please, have some tea and biscuits.”

The official smiled politely. “Thank you, madam.”

Another man stepped forward, holding something carefully wrapped in velvet. When he lifted the cloth, there lay the black mask. 

Walburga’s eyes fixed on it instantly. She leaned forward with intense interest. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Of course. My son Regulus is already prepared.”

She turned and beckoned him forward. Regulus stepped into the room with his usual composed posture, his dark hair perfectly arranged and his clothes immaculate.

Walburga hovered beside him anxiously while the official lifted the mask. At first, the mask seemed as though it might suit Regulus. The official lifted the sleek black mask and held it carefully toward him while Walburga hovered anxiously at his side.

“Stand still,” the man instructed.

Regulus obeyed with perfect posture, lifting his chin slightly as the mask was placed against his face.

For a moment, the room fell quiet. Sirius watched carefully from the kitchen doorway. 

It did not fit perfectly. The mask rested against Regulus’s face well enough that the guards exchanged interested looks.

One of them stepped forward to look at the fit and then gestured for a fellow guard to inspect it as well. Soon, half the royal procession had gathered in the entry hall, circling Regulus with growing excitement.

They examined him from every angle and circled Regulus, looking at his neat posture and groomed appearance. 

“Dark hair,” one guard muttered in approval. 

“Silver eyes,” another agreed.

“He matches the description.”

Regulus stood very still while the guards looked him over, clearly trying to look dignified under the scrutiny.

“Height is difficult to judge,” someone added. “But he certainly seems close.”

There was a rising murmur among the guards. Walburga’s smile grew wider by the second, her dark eyes bright. “Yes,” she said eagerly. “My son is quite remarkable.”

More voices joined the discussion with opinions. 

“It could be him.”

“We should confirm.”

One of the guards finally stepped away from the crowd. Sirius recognized it as James, the guard from before. James walked toward the carriage waiting outside. He hesitated briefly, and then he knocked on the door. 

Sirius had expected a high-ranking official to step out, but instead the carriage door opened, and the princess herself stepped out into the sunlight. Sirius ducked back into the kitchen instantly, wiping his hands on a cloth. 

From a crack in the kitchen door, he could see she was dressed simply compared to the royal balls, though still unmistakably elegant. Her dress was a simple blue that moved gently in the breeze, and her silver-blonde curls were loose around her shoulders.

Her blue eyes were focused immediately on Regulus when she entered. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as she stepped inside.

Walburga nearly burst with pride at the sight of the princess. “Your Highness,” she said breathlessly, curtsying low.

Regulus bowed quickly. 

The princess began to circle him slowly.

Once.

Her gaze studied him carefully, her eyes catching on Regulus's. 

Twice.

The guards watched in silence. Walburga’s excitement grew almost unbearable. Sirius could see it from the kitchen door that she was practically vibrating in place.

Finally, the princess stepped back and shook her head slowly. “It’s not him.”

The room fell silent as guards exchanged confused looks. Walburga’s smile collapsed instantly. The princess turned calmly toward Walburga, who smiled politely back. “Do you have any other eligible men in your household?”

Walburga stiffened. “No,” she said quickly. “My husband passed years ago.” She gestured toward Regulus with pride. “My son Regulus is the only one remaining.”

The princess paused, then she tilted her head slightly to look at the vast estate. Her eyes moved over the polished floors and the sweeping entryway. “Surely you do not run the entire household yourself, madam.”

Walburga hesitated. Sirius could see the tension in her shoulders from across the hall. “I have a servant boy,” she admitted reluctantly. “But he is nothing remarkable, I assure you—”

“Send for him, please,” the princess said gently. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

In the kitchen, Sirius straightened up and backed away from the door a few steps so that Walburga would not catch him watching. He could tell even from behind the door that Walburga did not want to comply, but refusing such a polite request from the princess herself would have been impossible.

After a long pause, Walburga finally turned sharply toward the kitchen. 

“Cinders!” the name cracked like a whip through the air. 

He responded immediately. Years of habit made the reaction automatic. Sirius straightened his shoulders and lifted the second plate of tea cakes he had finished arranging.

He walked out of the kitchen. He was painfully aware that he probably looked a mess. His sleeves were rolled, his shirt still wrinkled from work, and the faint dust from the morning's cleaning clung to the edges of his trousers. His hands were still rough and slightly red from scrubbing the windows.

Compared to the polished guards and finely dressed officials filling the entry hall, he looked exactly like what Walburga had called him, a servant. 

The guards noticed immediately. Several of them exchanged weary, half-annoyed glances as Sirius approached, clearly unimpressed by what they saw. The official sighed slightly as he accepted the black mask from Regulus and stepped forward toward Sirius.

Across the room, the princess watched quietly. She tilted her head just a little as she studied him. The same curious expression she wore when he told her about the stars. 

Walburga hurried to speak before anything else could happen. “I assure you, it cannot be him,” she said sharply. “He is a servant.” Her voice carried an almost desperate edge. “He never left the household on the nights in question.”

“Thank you, madam,” the princess replied softly. Her expression did not change. Slowly, her gaze shifted to the plate of tea cakes Sirius was holding. She took one of the cakes and held it. 

“Surely you heard my father’s decree,” she said, lifting her chin to look at him. 

Sirius nodded, his eyes on the tea cakes. 

“That every eligible man present himself.”

“Yes,” he replied, lifting his head to look at her. 

Her bright blue eyes met his steadily. “Then you must also know that I danced with this stranger long enough to know that he is no prince.”

Sirius waited. The guards around them watched in tense silence, more than one of them looked startled by the news. Yet none of them dared to speak against her. 

“Everyone believes he is a prince,” she continued calmly. A faint smile crossed her lips as she held up the tea cake and brushed a bit of sugar off it. “But, I have never met a prince who did not know how to dance.”

She held out her hand expectantly. The official, startled a bit, clutching the mask, hesitated for half a beat before he handed it to her. 

The princess stepped forward herself, lifting the mask carefully and placing it against his face. The mask settled perfectly against his features, an undeniable match.

Behind them, Walburga gasped in horror. “There must be some mistake!” She rushed forward, her voice rising in alarm. “He is nothing,” she insisted sharply. “Just a servant boy.”

Sirius slowly lifted his chin to meet her gaze. His eyes were fierce, “I am the first born son of Orion Black,” he said quietly. “Sirius Black.”

Walburga froze in place, her mouth opened in an unflattering gape. No sound came out. 

Sirius turned his head and looked directly at the princess. “Your Highness,” he said. “I have no title to offer you. I am not sure you want me as your prince.”

The princess met his gaze without hesitation, her blue eyes steady. “I swore to my father,” she said gently, “That I would marry the one I danced with for two evenings.”

She stepped a little closer. “I do not need more titles or alliances for my kingdom.” Her eyes softened. “I just want someone who will tell me about the stars.”

When she stepped closer to him, the room stirred uneasily. One of the guards shifted forward at once, instinctively moving to place himself between the princess and the servant boy standing there. 

Before he could take another step, James reached out and caught the man lightly by the arm. “Wait,” James murmured. His hazel eyes glinted with something close to triumph.

Marlene stood directly in front of Sirius now, close enough that he could see the small flecks of silver in her blue eyes. The pale fabric of her dress brushed softly against the floor as she studied his face.

She lowered the mask, even as one hand reached up. Her fingertips rested gently along the curve of his jaw, and before anyone else in the room could stop her, she kissed him. Her lips were soft against his, gentle and certain, as though she had already known the answer she was looking for. He kissed her back a little hesitantly.

The guards stared. Walburga made a quiet noise of distress. Regulus looked as though someone had struck him over the head. 

Marlene pulled back slowly. Her thumb brushed across his chin, grazing the tiny scar there, a mark he had carried since childhood. “It is him,” she said simply. There was no doubt in her voice.

She slid her hand into his, lacing their fingers together and then gave a small, encouraging tug. “Come on.”

Sirius followed without thinking.

Behind them, Walburga stood in the middle of the sitting room. She looked utterly stunned and furious, but she was clearly unwilling to challenge the princess who stood in her home.

Regulus remained beside her, his expression stricken as he watched Sirius walk out of the house beside the princess.

In the weeks that followed, many surprising things came to light. The King’s advisors began looking carefully into Sirius Black once it became clear that the princess had chosen him. Lineage mattered to the court, even if the princess herself seemed completely uninterested in such things.

Old documents were brought forward and family records were studied. Eventually, the truth was uncovered that Orion Black had never disowned his eldest son.

Walburga had said it often enough that most people had simply accepted it as fact. Sirius had been too young to know any different. The official papers told a different story. There had been no decree, no legal document stripping Sirius of his place in the family.

Which meant that by right, Sirius was still a Black. The firstborn son of Orion Black. While it did not make him royalty, the title of Lord Black would have belonged to both brothers. Sirius as the heir, and Regulus as the second son. 

Now Sirius lay stretched across the cushioned bench, his head resting in her lap as the night air drifted softly through the open windows. The lanterns around the terrace glowed faintly, and the sky above them shimmered with familiar constellations.

Marlene leaned forward slightly. Her fingers slipped into his dark hair, brushing it gently away from his face. “You should let them paint your portrait soon,” she murmured lightly.

Sirius opened one eye. “Why?”

“Because it would be fitting for you,” she answered. 

He smiled faintly in response as his fingers twirled one of her curls. She leaned down and kissed him. This time, he kissed her back without hesitation. 

“My star,” she murmured against his lips. She left a lingering kiss along his jaw.

Sirius’s hand tugged at her curls gently and Marlene laughed quietly as she tilted her head down. 

This time, he kissed her first. Somewhere above them, the brightest star in the sky glimmered quietly overhead.