"Alexander, no matter how he is behaving, you should not speak to him like that," Druella scolded quietly, laying a beringed hand upon his shoulder. Though, admittedly, her displeasure lay with Frederick at this point, it would not do for her grandchildren to forget their own upbringing and manners as well. Too, it was easier to reprimand a grandchildren than it was to reprimand a grown man and friend.

Frederick for the most part ignored Xander, focused instead on Meda as she took Cygnus' hand and rose from the floor. They would get no where without something to tip her hand, something he sensed he very well had right now.

"Tell me about Azkaban, Meda. Rabastan has already said it is part of the future."

Sucking in a sob, Meda gaped at him, this situation turning from hopeful pleading to aching upset in a flash with that word. Why would her father tell him that? Why? And why didn't he just tell them everything?

"You weren't ever supposed to know that's what happened to them," she sobbed, turning into Cygnus instead of releasing his hand. Despite never having a flesh and blood grandparent to behave to with, only the cold feeling of a portrait frame to cling to before, the gesture was still remarkably natural.

"Them? I want the entire truth, Meda," he demanded, moving closer to her.

She wasn't afraid of him, only of the truth, but denying him was just as painful when she wanted so much for him to love her, accept her, be pleased with her – not be like this.

"Dad and Uncle Roddy and Aunt Bella, that's why Xander and I were born so late!" she sobbed.

"That's preposterous!" Frederick thundered as Druella's hand flew to her mouth, he the picture of furious disbelief, her pure shock. "We would never have allowed them to be taken to that place!"