You had been particularly bored at the soiree, sipping on a glass of bitter champagne, when you heard the commotion; fussing, a hushed argument.

Intrigued, you tilted your head at an angle, and there you saw the problem; scolding four year old Cygnus, Arcturus Black stood with his shapely brows knit together and a dimpled frown. His long lashes were slanted down as he glared down his nose at the child like a pompous prat.

"I'm not picking you up because you're tired, Cygnus." Arcturus snapped.