"I can't go," she stressed quickly, forcing the memories of a Cruciatus Curse out of
her mind. The place where she had been tortured. Where her friends had been imprisoned.
Where Sirius had almost died—again. "And... I don't want you to go there."
He frowned, his brow furrowed. "I don't want to go either, but I have to."
"Why?"
"Because Narcissa wasn't always like this," he admitted sadly, running a hand
through his hair again. "She's my cousin, and I feel like... if it was me trapped in a situation
like that, I'd really want someone to show up at the last possible second and offer me a way
out."
Mia frowned at his earnest expression. "She won't take it. I'm sorry, Sirius, but she
won't."
He shrugged his shoulders, undeterred. "Probably. In which case, you and I will
drink the Malfoy's good firewhisky and champagne and then plant dungbombs inside the
wedding cake."
"That might almost be worth it." Mia genuinely laughed. It was terrifying to think
of returning to Malfoy Manor. She did not want to go, but Sirius was determined to leave,
and the thought of letting him go by himself made her blood run cold.
He beamed excitedly. "It's settled then! Get up, and get out your good dress robes!"
"Wait. How are we getting there?"
Sirius pulled from his robes a silver envelope with beautiful black script written
across the front of it and the Malfoy family crest in the corner. "Invitations are set up as
Portkeys."
Mia eyed the envelope. "Sirius, that invitation is addressed to Regulus Black."
"Is it?" Sirius feigned innocence as he turned and examined the invitation. "Huh, I
guess it is."
"I'm going to be sick," Mia said as she slowly stood up after landing outside of
Malfoy Manor. She hated Portkey travel.