There was a sense of urgency left in Cygnus' last owl that sent Sirius' mind whirling to every hateful insult once spat at his Uncle during adolescence. And again, only moments before. "I didn't mean to," was no longer a valid excuse -- not when the safety of the only man Sirius truly cared for was now at risk, and those words would be left lingering between them.

With the note clutched tightly in hand, Sirius apparated from the small dingy flat he had recently taken refuge in to the hallway of his Uncle's estate. It was there he'd now take refuge; it was there Sirius would stand stubbornly, not for the family in which Cygnus represented but instead his own love, fighting tooth-and-nail for the life Cygnus deserved to continue living.

No words were made to announce his arrival, and no noise other than the brisk footsteps it took to carry him from where he had appeared to where he now stood; before the door, waiting.