Sweet Revenge

The Order's Safe House (that wasn't all that safe)

Sirius was having great fun being an overbearing presence in the old Black residence. 

When the Order had moved in, he had been welcoming-and-such until Molly Weasley had suggested they throw out all the cursed artifacts and Sirius had pretended to be horrified and threw this great big fit. 

When Molly had asked him what the matter was, he had loudly proclaimed that he would never throw out anything that belonged to his late brother, Regulus Artucus Black (Dumbledore had agreed, reluctantly). 

Kreacher, the menace of a house elf, though, was pretty much on the same page as Sirius and still hated him just as much as before. 

However, he elf was considerably more tolerant of him, which was likely due to Walburga Black being a friend of the Dark Lord's. So, the elf would grumble loudly about such and such...blood traitors...tainting my mistress's house...et cetera. 

He had never known Kreacher was such a good actor. 

Fortunately, the dimwitted Order had not caught on yet so he was able to save a great many artifacts (many of which were not Regulus's) by claiming that they were. 

Snape was also being menacing and had helped greatly with the smuggling of such artifacts out of the House and to Slytherin Castle. 

Mundungus Fletcher had been a problem, but after a few well-pulled stunts by Kreacher, he had stopped trying to smuggle and sell the Black Family's artifacts. 

Sirius had a feeling Kreacher was only helping him because he was saving all of Regulus's favorite things. 

Oh, and also because of Kreacher's devotion to his mistress and hence to the Black Family and hence to his cousins Bellatrix and Narcissa, who had each in turn ordered him to help Sirius. 

Molly had been persistent about eradicating the doxies from the curtains, until Sirius had explained to her that it was a defense mechanism. 

This was, of course, false, but Sirius had received a letter from his godson asking him to save the doxies so he could use their wings for potions. 

Sirius, for all that he had been tormented by the things when he was younger, had agreed to keep them around. 

All this hassle had been to prepare for the arrival of one Alex Potter, Remus's godson whom he had not sent gifts to in years. 

Poor Remus. 

Still, when he did, he was almost as flamboyant as the twin he had no idea of (still, even though they literally had the same last name but...okay, Harry did have more characteristics of the Blacks) was not. 

He swaggered in, looking like he owned the place (which he did not because Sirius did) and his parents shuffling after him with his luggage in their arms and cooing at him. 

Spoilt. 

They had arrived in the foyer and Alex was looking around disdainfully. 

          "Where's this Sirius person? I want more red in here," he told his father. 

James had been Sirius's best mate. 

          "Here."

Sirius knew he looked very imposing, standing at the top of the grand staircase with his arms crossed and a polished black shoe tapping against the floor. 

He'd done it to Lucius Malfoy when he was younger. 

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          "Padfoot!"