The Black family was, indeed, French. Born and raised in the capital, their blood was bluer than blue. Noble and pure since ancient times.

But, and most Blacks tried to forget it, a single family member had decided to go to England and have a family there, mixing their French blood with the British's.

It made both Walburga and Orion, and by proxy Sirius and Regulus, half French and half English.

This stain in their blood line had for a long time been the source of many disrespects on their family. The French and British were never in good terms and having to share such a blood gave the family tree a tarnished branch.

Walburga tried as much as possible to ignore the English side of their family. A few cousins and uncles that no one cared about and who, had said the rumors, were too poor to live in a proper manor. Walburga and her family needed to keep their distance from this rotten ancestry.

When she learned that a British family had arrived in Paris with their domestics and wealth, moving into one of the most beautiful properties of France, she had felt the obligation to meet those Potters.

Euphemia Potter welcomed Walburga, her husband and sons with warmth and cordiality.

She was a beautiful woman, a bit older than Walburga but far more physically appealing. Her dress was matching her cerulean eyes and her black hair were combed into an elegant bun.

She presented the Blacks to her husband, a tall man with strong arms and bronze eyes and to her son, a five years old boy who looked extremely like his mother. Only his eyes matched his father's, giving him one of the prettiest complexion Walburga had seen on a child. After her own son.

Sirius was six years old now, able to hold conversations and to participate in cosmopolitan parties. He was two years older than his brother and he was far stronger.

Regulus wasn't sick, not really. But his lungs were smaller than they should have been, making Walburga's son heave more than breathe.

Regulus couldn’t run or play in the garden, he couldn’t play fight with his older brother who do things little boys are supposed to do. He was always inside, sat next to his mother, reading books far too complicated for a four years old boy who shouldn’t even be able to read yet.

But where Sirius lacked patience, Regulus was full of it. Learning many things from his brother's private tutors who couldn’t teach their assigned student anything when he was climbing a tree.

Walburga should have forbidden such attitude, but she was far too tired to care about Sirius. That boy couldn’t stay in one place more than a few seconds and she preferred Regulus' company. She also preferred to drink in her living room, Bordeaux after Bourgogne, the wine was flowing in Walburga's veins where youth had once been.

She was 24 years old, still young compared to her brother's wife, but she had already accomplished her life's duties. She had given two sons to her husband who had since kept his promise. Walburga Black, at 24 years old, would never be touched by a man again, leaving her as bitter as her wine.

"Maybe the children could go play in the garden? Our conversation might not interest them." Proposed Euphemia Potter.

Walburga nodded in agreement, leaving her oldest son run around the Potter's rose garden with his new friend.

It was good for Sirius to make powerful friends at such a young age.

If James Potter stayed close to her son, then he would probably be far more successful than her own husband.

No one who owned a land and a brain in France would want to share a friendship with a man such as Orion Black.

"What brings you in France?" Asked Walburga as one of the Potter's domestic filled her glass with red wine.

"We started to lose money after the 31st of March, with this law that forced Boston to close their ports. I was no longer able to send my merchandise to America and we needed a fresh start." Answered Fleamont Potter.

"What merchandise do you sell? If I am not being too curious?" Demanded Orion.

"I create and sell weapons, guns mostly. The Americans were very good clients, I don't know if France will need as many guns as they did!" Laughed Fleamont, taking a bite of the Amuse - Bouches in front of him.

If the Potters did lose that much money from the Boston Port Act but were still able to own a house like the one Walburga was currently visiting then it meant she had miscalculated the Potter’s actual fortune.

"We should organise a ball for your arrival!" Said Walburga with her most convincing smile.

"Oh, we would not want to bother you." Answered Euphemia, keeping an eye and her son and his playmate.

"Why would you bother us? We would be delighted to do such a thing for you! After all, that's what friends are for."

The Potters were rich, richer than Blacks. If Walburga needed to fake friendship and affection to keep this powerful ally, she would.

She looked at her son, laughing with the Potters' heir.

She would let them be friends. James Potter would come in handy in the future, she was certain of it.