Our Lords and Ladies

The Potters

"Sirius is old now."

James Potter, the marquess of the Duke of Arondale, laughed to himself as he read his invitation for Sir Sirius' ball.

Written by the Sir himself.

Come to my party,
Love Sirius.

Despite the arguing of their ancestors, the marquess and the heir to the Blacks fortune were very close. They would camp together, hunting deer and chasing ducks; sail, catching fish and sun rays, and party all night until neither of them knew what day it was.

The two weren't friends. They were brothers.

"Hey dad, Sirius is having a ball."

"It's father when we have company James."

The Duke, informally known as Fleamont, scolded his son who frowned out of his eye line. His father had a meeting with The Duke of Foxalder, something he had been planning and preparing a great deal for, but would not let his son in on his schedule, despite young James being an heir.

    The problem, was that James was a little immature at times.

    The first time the boy had set foot in a gentleman's meeting, at aged twelve, he had grown bored, just like a child his age would do, and while spinning his quill in between his fingers, lost control and with a quick flip, Lord Black had been nipped on his face, leaving a sliver of coal ink on the tip of his long nose.

    To say the least, his father was indignant at the embarrassment his son had caused him in his own home.

    James was yet to set even a toe in another meeting. So as of now, he was lounging in the sitting area where his help Miss Mabel dusted his mothers prized ornaments.

    One in which was gifted from her Royal Highness herself. A gold clock. A dashingly handsome stag painted right in the middle.

    "Ok father, Sirius is having a ball for his birthday, shall we be going?"

    The Duke inhaled deeply, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "If you wish to go, I will not stop you, but I shan't. Lord Black and I are in a bit of a difficult tango. I shall remain here and attend to my duties."

    Intimidatingly, he edged his way closer to his son and bent down to his sitting level. "But if I hear one thing, just one, about you making a fool of yourself, as well as your mother and I, you shall be sent home immediately, and you shall never walk foot outside your room until I have passed. Do you understand me?"

    James nodded.

    "I asked you, if you understand me. Now answer politely, that is no way for a Duke to respond." His voice harsh, forcing itself through James' ears very strictly.

    "Yes father." James answered quietly.

    "Louder!"

    James straightened his back. "Yes father!"

    "That's a good boy." The Duke stood. "You shall be representing us at the ball, and you better make it good. Or else..." he eyed his son carefully behind his brow lined spectacles. "Or else we'll be in trouble, okay?" Ending on a soft sigh.

    "Yes father."

    And the room fell silent as his fathers back turned and his steps petered away like a ghost, echoing through the many of rooms unoccupied. Leaving James to let go of the breath he had not realised he was holding.