Title: Summertime
Author: lmeden
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): SB/RL, SB/OFC
Summary: Sirius lives a contented life.
Warnings: Het (mentions only), l33t, Magical AU
Word Count: ~3200
Author's Notes: There was something about this prompt that just begged to be written, and I've had an extremely fun time of it. Even though I've skirted the edges of this prompt and stretched the requests a bit. There are little elements of Pirates of the Caribbean and the Baroque Cycle worked in here, as those fandoms have a big influence on me write now. And as for the l33t (:D), just unfocus your eyes a bit in order to read it. If that still doesn't help, I've provided translations at the end.
Enjoy!
His fingers danced along the cracked, flaking limestone.
The stone rose high above him, providing shade for him, though the morning light was not so intense as to require relief. Sirius traced the little veins and valleys that rode the rock. Slivers of the ancient sculpture crumbled away and faded to dust under his fingertips.
He smiled, and looked up at the cat woman who rose him above him. Her nose-less face gazed calmly into the distance, as if she could not feel the havoc that time and his own hands wrought on her extended forelegs.
Sirius knew that she could feel him. He could feel the calm of her thrumming soul beneath the whorls of his fingerprints. Touching her, he knew that one night she would simply toss her head to resettle her headdress, the golden Egyptian sun limning the soft curve of her cheek with light.
She would stand, then, unsheathing as yet unimagined claws, and lope off across the dunes, passing, like all the rest of the ancient gods, into memory. But for now she was still, and Sirius contented himself with feeling her life course under his palm, and seeing her soft smile out of the corner of his eye.
That was why he always brought women here.
Lithe, beautiful women, entranced by his reputation. He found them in the small towns nearby – English girls, for despite his living in this hot county for years, he had never quite picked up the language.
He smiled at them and curled his tongue behind his teeth as he laughed. And they followed him willingly to his tiny jeep, crawling inside and tucking their legs around his equipment and rolling their eyes like startled horses as they laughed and laughed and laughed, and proved themselves to be, after all, quite drunk.
With a harsh grip that sent shivers down their spines, he pulled them out of the car and across slick dunes until they were here, in the lee of the Sphinx's leg. And there he pushed them up against the stone and pulled their skirts up and pants down.
As they laughed and squealed – universally sounding like small dogs – Sirius took his pleasure with his hands pressed against the stone on each side of their shoulders. Not holding them back, though they thought so, and it was helpful that they didn't run away in the middle of it all – but feeling the great lady, his great lady, respond to their euphoria, and answer with a distant, curling satisfaction.
Sirius pulled his hand away and clasped the two together, savouring the sensation of the Sphinx beside him. With a smile still clinging to his face, he turned and walked to the tip of her paw, turning around the front of it, heading for the place where her chest met the ground and the inscription stone was seated.
When he reached it, Sirius stopped. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim length of wood. He twined his fingers around it, reaching his wand forward. As its tip neared the inscription – lingering over the names of forgotten gods Khepera, Rê, Atum – Sirius head a soft click.
The stone shivered and fell apart into tiny pieces that hung in the air above him. Where the stone had once sat was a dark hole; the faint outline of stone steps disappeared into the earth. Sirius kept his wand close and walked down the stairs, his soft shoes silent.
Behind him, the stone clicker-clacked as it reformed.
Inside, in the chamber beneath the Sphinx, life abounded. Sirius' team of archaeologists had built scaffolds that rose up to just below the belly of the great lady, and they clung to these scaffolds with monkey-like fervor, intently chattering and peering at the paintings and inscriptions that adorned her belly.
Sirius wove through the forest of wooden scaffolding, making for a bright white light in the back of the cave that announced an unfamiliar presence.
Normally, the only light in this cavern was cast by floating oil lamps, hovering near the workers as they worked. Sirius never let them use anything else. Modern, harsh lights might destroy the ancient art.
He frowned, and his pace sped as he stalked towards the back of the cave, swaying past obstacles by memory.
The blue-white light dancing across the back wall grew brighter by the second.
Greetings rained down on Sirius from above:
"Morning, Sir!"
"Sir, I think I've found something! Will you come see?"
"Have you seen the cuneiform over here, Mr Black? It appears to date to a much earlier period than we had previously –"
"Mr Black, sir, about last night –"
"Oh, sir, you're early this morning! Can I get you anything?"
He ignored them, brushing aside their sudden calls that echoed like tropical birds throughout the large room. He kept his eyes fixed on the back wall. The doctors, interns, and select Muggle archaeologists who had been chosen for this job would have to proceed without him for a few moments.
Tables had been set up in the back of the room, forming a semi-circle against one wall. Piled on this table were intricately connected boxes. Thin wires snaked and wove between them, chaining them all into some sinister web. Bright light poured from each of the boxes, casting them, and the cave around them, into violent blue and black shadow.
Sirius knew what this equipment was – Muggle computers. But why were they sitting ihere/i? Sirius paused at the edge of the pooling light, narrowed his eyes, and watched for a moment.
Several people, whom he had never seen before, hovered within the light; its glow gave their movements a watery surreality. It was as if these workers – for they were obviously doing some sort of work as they moved from computer to computer, gingerly tapping at the boxes and conferring with each other – were swimming through the air. As if they weren't human at all.
The activity revolved around one figure, who stood still with his hands clasped behind his back in the center of all the motion. His eyes were hidden in deep shadows and his head was bowed. To Sirius, it appeared that the man was sleeping.
Sirius fought his way free of unwilling wonder, which had caught him the moment he had stopped to watch, and strode forward, towards the sleeper who stood in the center.
The buzz of conversations that had wrapped around him, were suddenly silenced as he spoke.
"Who the hell are you? What is this? What are you doing here?"
The sleeper, who had not been asleep at all, but apparently watching everything quietly, looked up. Sharp shadows made a map of his face.
"3Y3 4|\/| d4 4|\|4[3s7."
The man had opened his mouth, and spoken, but not in English. Whatever language he had used teased at the edges of Sirius' mind. He felt that he should understand it, but he couldn't. He frowned.
"What?" He snapped.
"d4 4|\|4[|57?" The man raised his eyebrows, and then his head snapped to the side. "\v/|-|a7 3z 3t |\|0\v/? |\|0, d4 70p0gr4f3k4[ 4|\|4[3s3z s[07z 3|\|70 d4 g30gr4f3z b|_|7 |_||\|d3r|\|34th d4 [4y3r3d pr0gr4|\/||\/|3|\|g." The man turned and moved over to one of his workers, leaning over her and pointing at the screen in front of them. He long fingers went to quick work at the computer.
Sirius stared, his eyes growing wide as he really that, not only was he being pointedly ignored, but the man – whoever he was – didn't even have the courtesy to speak to him in English. It was galling. Sirius was a highly regarded magical archaeologist. He had discovered things in this country that had caused debate in scientific journals for months.
He would not be disregarded.
Sirius stepped forward and grasped the man's shoulder, spinning him around. The man stumbled and grabbed Sirius' shoulder, frowning up at him. He gaped up at Sirius, his mouth a dark hole.
"Look, I want to know who you are and what you're doing here. Otherwise, you can get out. "
"Sirius."
He ignored the voice behind him, staring down at the impassive man. Why did he seem familiar? Truthfully, Sirius might not have recognized his own mother in this strange light, with shadows dancing arcane rituals across their cheeks.
Not that he would have wanted his mother here. Anything but that.
A gentle hand settled on his shoulder and Sirius turned his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a stocky man, so he let the other man go and turned. His boss – the man who provided funding for this project, was standing behind him.
Sirius frowned down at Shaftoe, heedless of the man's power over him. He was too aggravated by the whole situation.
"Who is this, Shaftoe? He has all of this Muggle shit installed here, when you know very well that the light from these computers could damage the paintings. Don't tell me that you authorized this."
The man smiled facetiously, dabbing sweat from his brow with a yellowed handkerchief. "Of course I did, Mr Black. You have asked me several times for an analyst for the data that you've been compiling. Well, here he is. He arrived last night with his team and has been working for hours to sort everything out."
"My analyst! Here?" Sirius turned, waving his hands at the analyst before turning back on his boss. "Dry fresco is delicate – I've told you this many times! And yet, you feel that you should install this man next to the most delicate paintings in the known world? Why here?"
"You know very well that, had I placed him anywhere else, the Muggles would have found him. That would have led to many unwanted questions and possibly a crisis. So don't question my decisions. Your popularity allows you much, but not that."
Sirius seethed as Shaftoe turned away from him, moving to speak with the analyst. This was his site. He led the team that had uncovered and preserved ancient frescoes. His name was on the published discoveries. He should have a say in where and what his analyst set up.
Shaftoe was speaking with the analyst, and Sirius turned to them. But before he could say anything, the analyst nodded to Shaftoe, waved his wand at the computers – and when had that gotten into his hand? – and smiled.
The ghostly diagrams that had floated and glowed within the screens of the computers suddenly expanded, filling the air around them. Sirius' breath caught in his throat as digital renderings of ancient frescoes and cuneiforms drifted through him, finding their way towards a center point between the computers.
The entire world seemed to freeze as the attention of everyone in the cavern snapped over to them and the analyst's projection. As the diagrams drifted together and began to form a larger picture, the analyst spoke.
"|\|0|v|, 4z j00 c4|\| s33–"
He was cut off as Shaftoe cleared his throat and said, "Mr Lupin, English please."
Sirius' eyes snapped over to the analyst. Lupin? Surely not.
Lupin paused and nodded. "Ah. My apologies. I forget, sometimes, which language I am using. If you will look at the analysis that I have constructed for you, you will see that—"
Sirius lost his train of thought as he watched Lupin's long fingers gesture, casting eerie shadows against the wall. Sirius could see, now, how Lupin's eyes glinted amber as he glanced at Sirius. How dark shadows clung to the thin scars that curled around the edges of his face.
Remus Lupin.
A pang coursed through Sirius' heart as he stared at the weathered countenance of his childhood friend. He had left Remus behind – left them all behind – when he had turned sixteen. He hadn't been ale to stomach living in that dark house, with that horrible family, any longer.
And so, he had run and found a new life, straddling the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. And he had forgotten those whom he had left behind. Until now.
Sirius wrenched his gaze away from Remus and focused on the floating diagram. He forced himself to listen to what Remus was saying.
"—there are only six degrees so far, but even with that level of accuracy, which will be improved with time and a better data integration, and of course right now you can detect certain inconsistencies in the resonances here, here, and here—"
Sirius stepped close to the diagram, squinting at it. It seemed to be a rendering of the cave that they stood in, complete with faint representations of the paintings of ancient Egyptians that covered the Sphinx's belly. He crouched, examining the edges and corners of the schematic; all so accurate as to stun him into silence.
And then he saw what Remus had mentioned, and was further amazed. In the tiny cave that hovered before them, there was a thinness in the walls in a couple spots. It seemed as if the wall could be simply knocked out there. As if there were more caves hidden here than he had previously believed.
Sirius's breath caught at the possibility. More caves. And who knew what was hidden in them? There could be anything there – unfathomable magics, delicate artworks, ianything/i
Lips parted, Sirius looked up at Remus through the shifting clouds of the diagram. Remus' mouth was moving, but Sirius didn't listen. He simply watched the other man gesture passionately. His eyes met Sirius' and a soft smile crossed his face. He kept talking.
It seemed that Remus had found a new life in the Muggle world as well. Sirius had heard that Remus had run from the Wizarding World a few years after himself. And he had found a life for himself. But this subtle integration of magic and technology was beyond anything that Sirius had ever dreamed up.
Despite everything, despite Sirius' own betrayal and the betrayal of everyone else in the Wizarding community, Remus had flourished and surpassed them all. He had found a life so captivating, that he spoke its language unconsciously.
His breathing weak, Sirius stood. He took one last look at Remus, who was still busy with Shaftoe, and walked away. As he threaded his way back through the scaffolding, a voice called,
"Sirius!"
He knew that it was Shaftoe, and he waved his hand back at the man. He'd be back. But not yet.
He forced himself to walk up the steps that led back up to the desert quickly, instead of lingering and turning back to Remus as his body wished. He needed to get outside and feel the dry heat of the desert seep through his clothes and warm him, casting away the chill that had run through him in the last few moments.
As he reached the top step, he pulled his wand out and smoothly flicked it, sending the inscription stone clattering apart ahead of him. He stepped outside, shielding his eyes from the sudden onslaught of the sun. The stone snicked back together behind him, and a sliver of stone grazed his neck, causing him to flinch back and glare at the rock.
Sirius sighed and settled into the lee of one of His Lady's legs. He laced his fingers together over his eyes to hide them. For the first time in many years, he had no idea what to do. He had nothing to fall back upon – no work, no pleasure.
Remus' appearance had taken Sirius' contented life and shaken it right up. He took a deep breath, allowing the thick desert air to fill his lung like a drug. He savoured the taste of dust and spices before releasing the breath slowly.
He didn't even hear the stone opening to let Remus follow him – he knew that the other man was there when he saw knees settle into the sand in front of him. Still, Remus didn't touch him, and Sirius kept his hands over his eyes to give himself a semblance of solitude.
"You left."
Remus' voice was soft and blameless. Sirius pursed his lips and forced himself to stay silent – to not plead for forgiveness.
"Do you know what happened afterward?"
Sirius knotted his fingers through his hair and gave a terse nod. Of course he knew. The whole world knew. England's Dark Lord had sought James and Lily's blood, so the had gone into hiding. They had made Remus, their best friend, their Secret Keeper. Or so everyone had thought.
It was years after Remus' escape from Azkaban that the Ministry discovered that he was innocent. And by then, Remus had moved on. He had never returned to the Wizarding World.
But here he was, in front of Sirius, healthy and well despite everything.
Remus' hands were gentle as he pulled Sirius' hands from over his eyes, and Sirius was horrified to feel them come away damp. He was crying. He blinked fiercely and looked up at his once-best-friend.
His eyes were golden in the morning light, and despite his scars, Sirius thought briefly that he was beautiful. There was no pity in his eyes as he looked at Sirius, only a calm acceptance.
"I lost everything a long time ago."
Sirius allowed his arms and legs to be gently pushed to the side, and Remus settled next to him on the sand.
"And now I've found you again."
He turned at Remus' words. Sirius looked into his eyes and saw the profound loneliness that lurked there – the kind of loneliness that Sirius knew well. Though they were both successful, and had challenged the rules that threatened to hold them back, they were also alone.
But they had found each other again. And suddenly, by sitting close to Remus and feeling his breathing vibrate through him, feeling the Sphinx's quiet joy hum next ot his skin, he didn't feel alone.
They curled together next to the Great Sphinx, and softly, without thinking, kissed.
l33t Key
3Y3 4|\/| d4 4|\|4[3s7. – I am the analyst.
d4 4|\|4[3s7? – The analyst?
\v/|-|a7 3z 3t |\|0\v/? |\|0, d4 70p0gr4f3k4[ 4|\|4[3s3z s[07z 3|\|70 d4 g30gr4f3z b|_|7 |_||\|d3r|\|34th d4 [4y3r3d pr0gr4|\/||\/|3|\|g. - What is it now? No, the topographical analysis slots into the geography but underneath the layered programming
|\|0|v|, 4z j00 c4|\| s33– - Now, as you can see—