Chapter 7: We are the Black in Blackmail! part 1

Grimmauld Place, London.

Sirius frowned minutely as he read the paper, before folding it up and tossing it on the table in disgust, looking over at Remus where he sat at the other end of the kitchen table, dressed in a quality robe for once - albeit a comfortable lounge around the house type robe.

Getting rid of all of Remus old clothes was one of the best things he'd ever done for the man really, people might talk all they want about people's personality and that dross - but in reality, well dressed and good looking people got taken more seriously - and were treated better, as a matter of course.

It was just the way of the world. Any world. 

"I don't know how they get away with writing this swill… Fudge being described as heroic is an absolute laugh - even if by necessity they had to be extremely vague on what 'heroics' he's supposedly done." Sirius muttered angrily, referring to the Daily Prophet, put off his breakfast by that simpering brown nosing excuse of an article. He barked out a laugh, lips twisted in distaste, "The most heroic thing Fudge has ever done was daring to show his face with a name like Fudge…"

Really, how he managed to succeed canonically, being such a caricature as he was and is… 

Remus peered at him curiously, his face almost hidden by the cloud of steam wafting from his extra large cup of hot chocolate. "Are you upset about the article? Or about the fact the writer was bought by Bagnold and Fudge before you could buy them?" He asked archly, taking a long deep sip of his drink. 

He'd already checked it for silver, of course. 

Kreacher was not happy about having a half breed move in, even though the elf was nominally a better 'person' nowadays, he still had his moments. It's not that easy to revert from decades of racism. Especially when most of the family still quietly believed it, behind Sirius's back. 

Sirius had ordered the elf in numerous ways to not harm Remus, but there were always loopholes, albeit they seemed to be shrinking by the day, as Remus hardly ever got randomly poisoned or tripped over by randomly waylaid axes anymore.

Remus had spent an entire day chasing the elf up and down the property the other day because of the itching powder in his underwear, never realizing that Sirius had been feeling nostalgic that day. 

He'd had some decent mood swings lately, it was a bit concerning, really. 

Sirius took a sip of his own hot chocolate, (Remus had insisted) making a face at the all too sweet drink this early in the morning. "It's not about that…" Sirius said irritably, frowning at Remus' skeptical look, "Okay, so maybe it's a little about that." He admitted begrudgingly, "Mostly it's this ridiculous farce about painting Fudge as some sort of war hero, never once mentioning for what exactly. There's being bought, and then there's just being bloody insane!"

The aftermath of Sirius's own announcement to run for Minister had been a sobering reality check. 

Having acquired Dumbledore's support - and forced the old man to express it loud and clear, he had the popular vote practically locked from the word go. This was aided further by the fact he was rich, good looking and charming - as a juxtaposition to Cornelius Fudge who was… Not. 

He was a potato with a funny looking hat on top, in Sirius' modest opinion.

Yet he'd underestimated just how much the status quo meant to the purebloods, even with all his overtures and the hidden support from the Malfoys… They were still flocking to Bagnold and Fudge, providing money and a reputation boost - as all these pillars of the community kept giving interviews about all the good their dear friend Cornelius had done for the magical world. 

Always lacking any specifics on what actual good he's done of course…

Considering Sirius wasn't even tellinganyone about the actual radical policy changes he wanted to implement, it was a sobering wake up call. He was being as lame and vanilla as possible - and the old fossils were still all panicking and grouping together to defeat him.

Remus looked somewhat pained, their friendship only recently reestablished, the man had been trying to keep his opinions low key as to not sour their newfound equilibrium. He wasn't overly practiced in hiding his expression however and Sirius immediately noticed it.

Sirius waved a hand at him irritably, "Go on then, I can see you've got something simmering in that big brain of yours." 

Remus hesitated, using another sip of his hot chocolate as an excuse to draw out the silence as he gathered his thoughts, finally setting his cuppa down and speaking up after a few minutes of introspection. "I don't mean to sound critical, Sirius, Merlin knows I have no right of it, not after everything…"

Sirius rolled his eyes irritably, already sick of all the variations of self pity over his incarceration, he gestured vividly to get on with it, Remus ducking his head guiltily. 

"It's just… Your campaign is doing the exact same thing," He said hurriedly, "Not that you are in the same boat as Fudge, you actually fought in the war, you signed up as an Auror, but… You're not the hero your campaign is painting you either."

Sirius gave him an annoyed look, lips thinned together in a grimace, "Alright, no breakfast for me, I'm decidedly put out from it after being compared to Fudge of all people." Sirius said, pushing his plate of rashers and eggs away with one finger, "Please tell me you've got some point your building towards, Remus?"

Remus nodded, still looking uncomfortable to criticize Sirius at all, even to that small level, their situation too new, both of them tiptoeing around trying to figure each other out.

Remus wet his lips, eyes turning down towards the paper, "Instead of continuing to try and out hero each other… Why don't you just push his record out there? I'm sure his grades weren't anything spectacular, his career hasn't even been overly impressive either, beat him over the head with just how unremarkable he is - sell it to those high snobs just how incompetent he is, make it risky to gamble on him being able to hold the reins for long - before being toppled or screwing it up." 

Sirius smirked, leaning forward over the table towards his old/new friend, "Remus… Are you telling me to go ahead and destroy my opponents credibility and sense of self worth?" He asked with a wicked grin growing on his face. 

It wasn't a bad idea really, the old fops loved stability, well except the Death Eater types - but if they could be convinced Fudge wouldn't last a year…

Remus muttered something under his breath, breathing in the fumes from his still steaming hot chocolate, (magic hath its privileges) "Yes I suppose I am." He admitted, meeting Sirius' eyes in a mix of fondness and wariness, "He's not going to play nice, and he's an objectively worsecandidate, so perhaps you need to go back to what you always cautioned me was the Black way…"

Sirius grinned, a thread of something vicious underneath as he met Remus eyes, "And that would be?" He asked playfully, having a good idea, but not fully remembering that time, so making sure. 

Remus smiled wryly, shaking his head, "If you're not doing it dirty, you're not doing it right."

Sirius barked out a laugh, "That… Is exactly the right idea, mate!"

Sirius had used that saying for a lot of things, including sex advice for a nervous James Potter - he'd mostly done it as a prank of course, figuring he'd end up with his bollocks hexed off, but apparently Lily had hidden depths. 

Probably not a story about his parents that he'd share with Harry later, or he could save it for the talk. Something to think on. 

Although he'd definitely contract out the talk, he had Remus now, he could do all that unpleasant work.

He pulled his plate back towards himself, suddenly ravenous, he could do dirty, he'd been holding off on it, not going full out yet, but what better time than now?

And if he could get some revenge too at the same time… His eyes glinted with malicious intent.

Well, that would just be the cherry on top, wouldn't it?

Remus sighed, looking like he regretted his life choices as Sirius cackled quietly, but it soon turned to a smile on his weary face. 

This was a dynamic they were both used to.

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Shortly after breakfast, Arcturus dropped in as Sirius was doing some parchment work, dealing with the thousands of little rules that existed around their elections, a really complex set of legislation that mostly existed to make it bloody painful to run at all. 

Arcturus walked straight over to the bar, pouring himself a drink without as much as a word, Sirius raising a questioning eyebrow as he looked up from the parchment work. "That bad?" He asked, frowning. 

"Barnabas Cuffe is a cretin!" Arcturus huffed, taking a long slow drink of his poison of choice. 

Sirius studiously ignored his own hypocritical drink sitting at his desk despite the early hour. He was lacking in sleep lately, nightmares of Azkaban pressing in on him again, the alcohol helped soothe him for the day. 

His eyes darkened as he thought of everyone that had taken part in sacrificing him, but the thoughts on revenge linger….

Perhaps that is why his nightmares wouldn't let go, because he hadn't demanded restitution yet…

"You already know he is scum, what else is new." Sirius said bitterly, reaching for his own glass, waving with the other hand for the old man to sit. 

Arcturus scoffed darkly, mouth drawn into a thin line as he sat gingerly, looking frail, "Let an old man complain." He complained, "I've impressed upon him the necessity to keep articles published in the same vein going forward, not allowing total hit pieces on either side without facts." 

Sirius scowled, still upset by his failure to acquire the paper, "Painting Fudge as some kind of hero is farcical…"

Arcturus looked at him with an expression of displeasure, "Don't be daft…" He saw Sirius darkening visage and hurriedly added, "My Lord…" He took another sip to steady himself before continuing, "It's vague as can be, just fluff and nonsense, he can hardly refuse to print it, there are no facts to check or disprove, because they specifically never mention a single thing to fact check."

Sirius nodded his head grouchily, pushing aside his parchment work to stand up and pace, feeling jittery, and weary. "I get it, I do, but I'm having a hard time handling all this with these Merlin damned dark impulses I have to keep back." He growled low in his throat, "Part of me wants to take revenge on everyone that wronged me, even as I logically deduce that I can't, if I want to achieve what I need."

Arcturus scoffed, lips curling into a sneer, "Sirius, you're a Black…" At Sirius's sarcastic look, he continued before Sirius got a chance to reply, "Dark impulses are practically part of your inheritance." He leaned forward, putting a bony hand on the desk, "The trick isn't to ignore them, it's to put them to use effectively."

Sirius scowled, his bitterness increasing by the minute as he focused on the injustices done by allies and friends. "I can't afford to fall into that trap."

There was a reason for the saying about digging two graves if one sought out revenge. 

"Think, boy!" Arcturus barked out, "Yes, going on some hairbrained scheme for revenge is idiotic and bound to sink you more than anything, but it does not mean you give up on it and stew in resentment, that will only lead you to making a mistake down the road as everything you've held back bubbles up to the surface!"

Sirius laughed, sinking back into his chair, stopping his pacing, his gaze sardonic as he stared his grandfather down, "Are you my therapist now?" He mocked, "Or do you actually have anything tangible to say?"

Arcturus glared at him, finishing off his drink, before standing up, brushing his robes off, "Be intelligent about it, my Lord… If your goals and revenge aren't compatible at the outset, then find avenues where they intersect and get revenge while advancing another goal, add it as a step to the plan, not as its conclusion."

Sirius glared at the old man as he walked out of his office, hating the realization that he'd just acted like a petulant child. Sleep issues or not, he shouldn't allow such weakness to take over. If necessary, he decided, he would take dreamless sleep potions again. He couldn't afford to make a misstep due to something as simple as lack of sleep. 

As for revenge… Perhaps the old man was onto something there. He didn't want to leave them all off scot free, but he'd decided he couldn't afford to go after them either - not if he wanted that Minister's position. 

Yet… If his rage would just keep building… There were surely some small simple things he could begin with in regards to pay back a little of what's owed? 

Either in a way that won't harm him, or in a way that gets him something he wants while having the secondary purpose of making things harder for those that had abandoned him to Azkaban.

He didn't want to stew in the matter, focusing too hard on revenge, because that way lay only bitterness, hate and destruction.

But ignoring it wasn't working either, it too held too much bitterness. 

Perhaps revenge, like everything else, would be better in moderation?

He eyed the glass of alcohol, grimacing, he wasn't the best at moderation lately…

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Later that day, Grimmauld Place,

Of course, Sirius couldn't begin immediately in his plots to extract revenge nor his plans on starting to make Fudge appear the fool. Adding Bagnold for that matter to the plan as well while he was at it… 

Why? 

Because one did not stand up Narcissa Malfoy when one had an appointment with her. 

No matter how much he wanted to, knowing the subject matter. 

It was his own fault, he'd scheduled the meeting. As much as he hated the matter they'd be discussing, he knew it was necessary, so he'd have to take the graphorn by the horn and suffer through it. 

"What about this one, Fiona Fawcett?" Narcissa asked primly, sliding a folder over to him, the other side of his desk already full of discarded folders. 

Narcissa had arrived with a large imposing stack of the things, all filled with eligible women of different qualities, sorted by possible alliances, business ties and voting power in the Wizengamot, all taking precedence over any silly things like personality or looks. 

You'd think with magic there would be a lot less issues in fixing yourself up to not look like a troll, but it appeared many either did not bother or hadn't the magical skill to do it. 

Sirius didn't even open the folder in front of him, just groaning, head in his hands, regretting every life choice ever. "Surely being married doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things?" He complained, even knowing as he did that he was simply trying to avoid the matter, because he knew it mattered. 

He knew damn it, that's why he was doing it, but it felt too much like being at the bloody market and choosing which cut of meat to purchase.

All that was missing from this was the poor women themselves being delivered so he could check their weight and give their rump a good slap!

Narcissa gave him an unimpressed look, one eyebrow raised in derision, "If I wasn't already married to Lucius, I'd marry you myself, Sirius, if only to ensure you were kept firmly on track." She stated dryly, for all appearances speaking completely truthfully.

It was really hard to tell with her, she could be lying and he'd never know, or worse, telling the truth. 

Now there was a horror scenario…Although she was one hell of a fine bird… No, Bad Sirius, down! Sirius drug a hand down his face, trying to wipe the thought of him and Narcissa from his consciousness, "Cissy… Must you make me suffer like this?" He asked grouchily.

He'd spent the whole morning so far in the office, running on hardly any sleep, and probably having had one too many drinks for what could be considered healthy. 

He was fully aware that he was the one ultimately in charge, that he was the one that ordered this search be set in motion - but he didn't like it, so he was going to complain anyway. 

It was one of the benefits of being in charge.

She looked at him like he was a particularly misbehaving dog, her nose upturned snootily as she sat before him in a sapphire blue robe that left her long legs naked up to the knee, "If you wish to be treated seriously Lord Black, act like it." She said firmly, pushing the folder towards him again, one finger planted in the middle of it, "Fiona Fawcett." She repeated, staring him down. "This is a serious endeavor, do not make light of what could possibly be your future wife."

"But I am Sirius!" Sirius said with a wink, only getting an unimpressed stare in return, grumbling he opened the folder to see a magical photograph of a gorgeous girl, short and pixie like in appearance, the picture giving off a bubbly vibe as if the girl couldn't keep still. 

Perhaps a good match all in all, she was a pureblood, from good stock, (He hated that it mattered) She had good connections, or at least her family did - which would do well for his ambitions, bringing in other families on his side… She was also from all appearances - not old enough. He flipped to the bio Narcissa had drawn up, brow rising in disbelief, he was potently unimpressed as he slammed the folder shut, leveling a displeased stare at Narcissa. "She's sixteen!" 

He knew he had somewhat of a reputation, one he hadn't exactly disabused with his actions so far, but she couldn't really believe…?

Narcissa shrugged lightly, seemingly nonplussed, "She'll be seventeen in two months, in perfect time for the wedding."

Or… She could. Damn. This is not kosher. 

Sirius burned the folder to cinders with a stab of his wand, while meeting Narcissa's eyes seriously, "No." He said firmly, lips pressed tight. He needed to do this, he could acknowledge that, but he wasn't saddling some poor sixteen or seventeen year old with his baggage - nor was he into school girls. 

Narcissa sighed, but quietly acquisited, flipping through the folders she still held, discarding six! 

It wasn't a high percentage considering how many folders she'd brought, but six underage girls was still six too many…

Everyday he kept being reminded why he was doing this in the first place… He needed to change this world. 

"You'll have to actually start taking this seriously, or you'll be too late to make any difference." She warned, giving him another folder. "Depending on the family, they will not be impressed with anything less than months of courtship."

Left unsaid was that any election was likely only months away to begin with, unless they pulled the trigger on kicking Bagnold out sooner than that. He was running out of time. 

And unfortunately, while he could swing the whole bachelor state to the public, it didn't do as well with the ultra traditional Wizengamot. 

He looked in the folder, blanching and throwing it away. He was an ambitious man, but he wouldn't marry a troll, no matter the connections.

If he wanted any hope of swaying some of the swing votes amongst the more traditional families - he needed a pureblood wife. And the better connected and beautiful the more it would help him. 

If only the black widow wasn't a murderess, she'd be perfect.

"No chance of just marrying a Veela instead?" He asked, more as a distraction as he tried to sort the various prospects he'd gone through in his mind. There were frightfully few that were palatable, the Fawcett slip of a girl being the least objectionable - if only she were a few years older. Like at least 21. 

Narcissa smirked, handing him another folder, her face looking twice as beautiful without the placid resting bitch face she kept it at, "You'd probably be able to make it work, except most of them are French."

Sirius wrinkled his nose, accepting defeat. 

It was one thing to marry what some thought of as half breeds.

It was an entirely different matter to marry a Frenchwoman. 

He'd be chased out of Britain for that one!

"Give me the next one." He said with a deep weary sigh, knowing he was faced with the decision shortly, no matter what his feelings on the matter was. 

At this point, killing Lucius and marrying Narcissa seemed a lot easier. 

It would make him Draco's step daddy however, and while Sirius wasn't necessarily opposed to murder, or hot cousins, in theory… Not the first time he'd had that thought either, but...

He drew the line at having Draco fucking Malfoy calling him daddy.