Like An Alabaster Statue
A/N: Wow, this is a strange pairing. I mean, really, really strange. But…I dunno, I was bored, and this sort of came to mind. Really sorry! I know it's probably really stupid, but…*shrugs*
Summary: A black dog is watching a large manor house. A black dog is waiting for the owner of the manor, a dangerously evil, yet pale and lovely wizard. I have totally gone off the deep end with this!
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own ANYTHING here…Ms. Rowling does!
When he becomes angry his eyes do nothing. They do not glint, nor do they narrow, no they remain blue and unblinking, two shattered crystals lodged motionless. No, when he becomes angry it is his hands that move. He places them behind his back, so no one may notice, but his hands clench and his knuckles go white. He stands when he is infuriated, still as the alabaster stature that he resembles, only his hands working themselves, only the light playing itself out over his white-blonde hair, only the cerulean shadow of his eyes throbbing with their vibrant color. Sometimes he will smile, but he will not let his smile be angry. No, it will be smooth and slow, all the muscles used in his detailed jaw working to pull back his pale lips, exposing his unbelievably white teeth, a smile that is not a smile because there is nothing there. No happiness, no joy, nothing but his sharp face, jutting cheekbones casting shadows underneath his eyes, he is a statue when he is an angry. An impossibly lovely statue.
*All this* the black dog thinks (as well as a dog can think, and the black dog is not an ordinary dog) *because I dug up his goddamned garden.*
The black dog whines.
The boy rushes out. The boy is lovely, like his father, almost exactly. The same cut-glass eyes, the same shimmering hair, and it is falling in his face now, messy and disheveled. The black dog watches as the alabaster statue moves his eyes to the boy.
"What is it, Father?" The boy asks. The black dog approaches, closer, coming within the wash of yellow cast by the flickering porch lantern.
"This is disgusting mongrel was digging up the garden." The man returns, sneering at the black dog. He puts his hand in front of the boy, and the black dog thinks that anything is possible here. Anything. It is an odd thought, but as a dog he has less control over himself. Over his imaginings. And that, he figures, is why he is here.
"Shoo it away then!" the boy protests, giving the black dog a practiced sneer.
"Yes. Go inside now, Draco." The man demands, turning to his son. The black dog wonders briefly *why*. Perhaps the man will kill him and he does not wish the boy to see. But…then again…the boy has probably seen so much, why would the man hide the simple murder of a dog? And the dog wonders why he is not running. The true dog part of him wants to, the true dog inside his mind is rebelling at the danger apparent. But the undog part of his mind sneers at the true-dog. The undog likes to be in danger.
Especially this type of danger.
The boy turns back inside giving his father an odd look. The black dog understands this look. The black dog is confused as well. When the man is sure that the boy is gone, he turns back to the dog. The yellow of candle glow
"Stay. Stay right where you are." The man whispers to the dog, and his hands come forward, empty and clenched. The black dog sits placidly. He hears disapproving voices in his head:
*are you crazy!? Going to the Malfoy's manor! You're the most wanted wizard in the world right now!! What do you think you're doing!?*
And he grins in his dog way that he is not a wizard right now. He is a large black dog that has just dug up a wealthy wizard's garden. And then that other voice, that hurt voice:
*So you went to the Malfoy's again. Did you see Lucius?*
Ah. That voice has a bit more of an effect. And the dog whimpers a bit because dogs know guilt and the hurt voice will be there when he returns and will ask. But the black dog cannot help this. There are some things he cannot explain to himself, dog or otherwise. There are some feelings that just are. The dog knows he is risking himself after so many others have gone out of their way to make sure that he is safe. The dog knows that he is betraying all of their trust, all of their work. But the dog must be here. It is the sun. It is gravity. He cannot stay away.
And Lord...his crystalline eyes are so lovely in the flickering light.
He smiles as he approaches. The dog wags his tail fervently, liking the closeness. It is summer and the sky is dark violet with heat but the man moves in his own glacial seemings. It is like a ghost entering the room, icy eyes and hair and skin. The black dog wonders if he were to touch him, would he feel cool?
"Yes. I've seen you before. You run by here, pausing in the street, looking up. Do you take me for a fool? I know you are no ordinary dog." He whispers, his voice toned and lilted with a lovely cadence, breeding and beauty accentuating each careful syllable.
The dog is not caught by the question. As well as he can, the dog has expected it. And he has been here too often. Most often in the morning when he leaves for work, because he always steps outside before he Apparates. And the sun is new on his hair, rising over him and haloing him in white. As if he were an angel! The dog finds that funny when he is not a dog, because if *he* were an angel, there would be no hope for any of them. And the dog recognizes the evil. Yes. But that is part of it, is it not? The dog knows. Not the actual evil, but the sheer truth of it. There is truth in goodness, and truth in darkness as well.
"What are you?" he hisses, crouching down in front of the dog. The dog and undog part of him are so aware of the closeness. The dog wants to rush at the man, feel the softness that would have to be his face. Even the hurt voice:
*Did you see Lucius?*
does not make itself heard now. The guilt of it. No. All gone by the closeness. The dog has not been this close to the man since school. Since the man, much younger but still lovely, had lorded over the rest of them, proclaiming in his very being the power and wealth that backed his name. And at school, the dog would glance at him every so often, wondering how it felt to touch his face. Wondering if he were real. The dog would never let anyone else know how he watched and wondered. No. Because that of that hurt voice, for one, and because of the basic Laws of Nature:
The man was a Malfoy. The dog was not a Malfoy, nor anything like a Malfoy, nor anything a Malfoy would ever be able to understand. So he had simply watched as a boy. And now, when he could move about, he watched more.
The man stares into the dog's eyes. Something flickers across that alabaster face. The black dog wonders what it may be…the man's face is as impenetrable as stone, only it live and breathes. The man reaches out suddenly and touches the dog's head, almost as if to pet him, but not. No, there is no friendliness, it is simply a touch of affirmation. Even so, the black dog cannot conceal a whine of intense feeling. The man had never touched him before. This is new. The man's hands are cold and soft. Stone turned to velvet.
He stands. The dog thinks of his name. Even his name is something to fall in love with. Lucius Malfoy. He would say it sometimes. Alone. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius. Malfoy. The dog hides things very well, even when he is not a dog, and no one suspected. No one would but the owner of the hurt voice, who knew things about the dog that even the dog did not.
Lucius Malfoy draws out his wand. Every motion he makes is a well-coordinated frame of paint and evening, delicate as the skin of his wrist, as bejeweled as his eyes. He points the wand at the dog, and the dog realizes that he should be afraid. Very, very afraid because Lucius is a powerful wizard, and he is a wanted man. But the dog is not afraid. He stands, staring up at Lucius, eyes fixed on him, his wand hovering right over his head. At night, Lucius looks even more like an angel, the stars almost arranging themselves to illuminate his pale face and sapphiric eyes.
"Show yourself." Lucius whispers.
The dog lowers his head. He is a powerful wizard too. Maybe as powerful as Lucius, and what better time to figure it out? The dog has come this far. Perhaps he should face him, finally.
The dog transforms. Where once he sat, black-furred and pale-eyed he stands, a tall, thin man. Longish black hair, not as wild as it had been. Haunted pale eyes still. Lucius Malfoy stares at Sirius Black, not surprised. Not afraid.
"I should have known. You keep your eyes when you are a dog." Lucius intones.
"Every Animagi keeps some distinguishing mark. That is how we are identified." Sirius nods, as if he is imparting some information about the weather.
The two men are silent. Sirius is not sure how he had imagined this meeting, and he is not even sure what is happening right now. He just stares at Lucius, who stares right back. If only Lucius showed emotion with his eyes! They are simply crystal blue and nothing else. His mouth does not move, his neck does not tense. If Sirius did not know better, he would have sworn Lucius was not real.
They continue to stare. Suddenly, Lucius smiles deeply, as if he is only breathing. Sirius wishes he could touch Lucius' face as he smiles. Sirius stands still, unblinking so as not to miss a movement. A moment.
"Well. There are two possibilities here, Black. Would you like to know what they are?" Lucius asks.
"Yes. Very much so." Sirius returns. He wonders why his voice is not trembling because he would like nothing better at that moment to hold Lucius. Lucius Malfoy looks as though no one has ever held him, not even Narcissa.
Lucius ticks off on his fingers as he speaks. His hands are not clenched.
"One: You really have been working for the Dark Lord, and that is why you have been trying to contact me. Two: You do not work for the Dark Lord, and you are spying on me." Lucius lists.
Sirius remains impassive.
Lucius continues.
"Possibility one would be very good for you. Possibility two would be quite the opposite. I will kill you, and I know you know I can. So Black, which is it?" Lucius regards Sirius.
"Aren't you curious as to how I escaped?" Sirius smiles suddenly. It is his devil-may-care smile, the one James used to call his 'self-destructive look'. And the owner of that guilty voice would say
*that smile worries me, Sirius. You'll really hurt yourself one day…Please…*
Lucius allows another smile. Smaller. Darker.
"Not really." He returns.
"Fair enough." Sirius nods.
They are silent enough. Sirius takes his wand from his pocket and stares at Lucius, who is watching Sirius with more interest than fear. No fear, actually, all interest. Sirius wishes he could find another word…other than lovely. But he cannot. He has never been good with words. Lucius is lovely. He keeps repeating that in his mind.
"What if I were to tell you that the reason I am here has nothing to do with either possibility?" Sirius asks.
Lucius does not seem surprised, but Sirius wonders if this is simply because Lucius Malfoy never looks anything he does not want to.
"What other reason could there be?" Lucius responds delicately. His eyes are shining with night. With cerulean night. Sirius wishes he could touch Lucius…he wishes that often. But now, with Lucius close enough to touch, it is so much stronger. A dream Sirius has from time to time: he reaches for Lucius, but Lucius simply bursts into white light and ice, melting as it touches Sirius' face.
"Oh, I am sure you know that there are hidden reasons for everything, Lucius." Sirius feels a rush of warmth against his cheeks as he says the name.
Lucius is perplexed, but only a slight flicker in his eyes, a slight twitch of his sculpted mouth betray this feeling. His face is calm and smooth and white.
There is a heavy silence. As heavy as summer and the scent of the air before a thunderstorm.
"Yes. Perhaps I do know that. But, Sirius Black, why would a convicted killer who, apparently, is really not a killer at all risk being sent back to Azkaban by sitting out in my backyard as a dog? Whatever reason you do have hidden, Sirius, is a compelling one, I imagine." Lucius drawled, and Sirius feels that warmth again as Lucius says his full name, stretching each syllable, making it something beautiful.
Sirius smiles his devil-may-care smile once more and leans in close. This is the dangerous Sirius that he becomes when he does not care about the risks. When he does not care for the future, for his safety, for anything but the moment. For anything but what he wants.
Lucius watches Sirius impassively.
"Quite compelling." Sirius murmurs softly, and lifts his hand slowly. He is not himself. He is not thinking, only feeling. Sirius brushes his fingers softly over Lucius' face, taking in the softness and coolness and loveliness of Lucius. In a sudden flurry of movement, Lucius grabs Sirius' hand and stares at it, then brings it back to his face, closing his eyes. Sirius is not breathing. The two are close enough…their noses almost bumping…lips almost meeting…
Lucius pulls his hand back.
He drops his hand and stares into Lucius' eyes, waiting. Quite surprisingly, a light pinkish tinge has surfaced in Lucius' cheeks, and his hands are shaking a bit. Sirius licks his lips.
"I will not say a word if you leave now. I will tell no one, I will forget this ever happened if you leave right now." Lucius demands. "Please" He adds, his voice suddenly small and trembling.
Sirius pauses for a full moment, the nods. He transforms back to the dog without another word and pads out into the night, leaving Lucius Malfoy alone, raising his hand to his face and tracing out the warmth still from the light touch of Sirius Black's fingertips.
A/N: I made a major mistake…Lucius' eyes are gray, not blue, but I'm too lazy to change it and I like some of my descriptions ^-^. Sorry about that…
A/N: Wow, this is a strange pairing. I mean, really, really strange. But…I dunno, I was bored, and this sort of came to mind. Really sorry! I know it's probably really stupid, but…*shrugs*
Summary: A black dog is watching a large manor house. A black dog is waiting for the owner of the manor, a dangerously evil, yet pale and lovely wizard. I have totally gone off the deep end with this!
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own ANYTHING here…Ms. Rowling does!
When he becomes angry his eyes do nothing. They do not glint, nor do they narrow, no they remain blue and unblinking, two shattered crystals lodged motionless. No, when he becomes angry it is his hands that move. He places them behind his back, so no one may notice, but his hands clench and his knuckles go white. He stands when he is infuriated, still as the alabaster stature that he resembles, only his hands working themselves, only the light playing itself out over his white-blonde hair, only the cerulean shadow of his eyes throbbing with their vibrant color. Sometimes he will smile, but he will not let his smile be angry. No, it will be smooth and slow, all the muscles used in his detailed jaw working to pull back his pale lips, exposing his unbelievably white teeth, a smile that is not a smile because there is nothing there. No happiness, no joy, nothing but his sharp face, jutting cheekbones casting shadows underneath his eyes, he is a statue when he is an angry. An impossibly lovely statue.
*All this* the black dog thinks (as well as a dog can think, and the black dog is not an ordinary dog) *because I dug up his goddamned garden.*
The black dog whines.
The boy rushes out. The boy is lovely, like his father, almost exactly. The same cut-glass eyes, the same shimmering hair, and it is falling in his face now, messy and disheveled. The black dog watches as the alabaster statue moves his eyes to the boy.
"What is it, Father?" The boy asks. The black dog approaches, closer, coming within the wash of yellow cast by the flickering porch lantern.
"This is disgusting mongrel was digging up the garden." The man returns, sneering at the black dog. He puts his hand in front of the boy, and the black dog thinks that anything is possible here. Anything. It is an odd thought, but as a dog he has less control over himself. Over his imaginings. And that, he figures, is why he is here.
"Shoo it away then!" the boy protests, giving the black dog a practiced sneer.
"Yes. Go inside now, Draco." The man demands, turning to his son. The black dog wonders briefly *why*. Perhaps the man will kill him and he does not wish the boy to see. But…then again…the boy has probably seen so much, why would the man hide the simple murder of a dog? And the dog wonders why he is not running. The true dog part of him wants to, the true dog inside his mind is rebelling at the danger apparent. But the undog part of his mind sneers at the true-dog. The undog likes to be in danger.
Especially this type of danger.
The boy turns back inside giving his father an odd look. The black dog understands this look. The black dog is confused as well. When the man is sure that the boy is gone, he turns back to the dog. The yellow of candle glow
"Stay. Stay right where you are." The man whispers to the dog, and his hands come forward, empty and clenched. The black dog sits placidly. He hears disapproving voices in his head:
*are you crazy!? Going to the Malfoy's manor! You're the most wanted wizard in the world right now!! What do you think you're doing!?*
And he grins in his dog way that he is not a wizard right now. He is a large black dog that has just dug up a wealthy wizard's garden. And then that other voice, that hurt voice:
*So you went to the Malfoy's again. Did you see Lucius?*
Ah. That voice has a bit more of an effect. And the dog whimpers a bit because dogs know guilt and the hurt voice will be there when he returns and will ask. But the black dog cannot help this. There are some things he cannot explain to himself, dog or otherwise. There are some feelings that just are. The dog knows he is risking himself after so many others have gone out of their way to make sure that he is safe. The dog knows that he is betraying all of their trust, all of their work. But the dog must be here. It is the sun. It is gravity. He cannot stay away.
And Lord...his crystalline eyes are so lovely in the flickering light.
He smiles as he approaches. The dog wags his tail fervently, liking the closeness. It is summer and the sky is dark violet with heat but the man moves in his own glacial seemings. It is like a ghost entering the room, icy eyes and hair and skin. The black dog wonders if he were to touch him, would he feel cool?
"Yes. I've seen you before. You run by here, pausing in the street, looking up. Do you take me for a fool? I know you are no ordinary dog." He whispers, his voice toned and lilted with a lovely cadence, breeding and beauty accentuating each careful syllable.
The dog is not caught by the question. As well as he can, the dog has expected it. And he has been here too often. Most often in the morning when he leaves for work, because he always steps outside before he Apparates. And the sun is new on his hair, rising over him and haloing him in white. As if he were an angel! The dog finds that funny when he is not a dog, because if *he* were an angel, there would be no hope for any of them. And the dog recognizes the evil. Yes. But that is part of it, is it not? The dog knows. Not the actual evil, but the sheer truth of it. There is truth in goodness, and truth in darkness as well.
"What are you?" he hisses, crouching down in front of the dog. The dog and undog part of him are so aware of the closeness. The dog wants to rush at the man, feel the softness that would have to be his face. Even the hurt voice:
*Did you see Lucius?*
does not make itself heard now. The guilt of it. No. All gone by the closeness. The dog has not been this close to the man since school. Since the man, much younger but still lovely, had lorded over the rest of them, proclaiming in his very being the power and wealth that backed his name. And at school, the dog would glance at him every so often, wondering how it felt to touch his face. Wondering if he were real. The dog would never let anyone else know how he watched and wondered. No. Because that of that hurt voice, for one, and because of the basic Laws of Nature:
The man was a Malfoy. The dog was not a Malfoy, nor anything like a Malfoy, nor anything a Malfoy would ever be able to understand. So he had simply watched as a boy. And now, when he could move about, he watched more.
The man stares into the dog's eyes. Something flickers across that alabaster face. The black dog wonders what it may be…the man's face is as impenetrable as stone, only it live and breathes. The man reaches out suddenly and touches the dog's head, almost as if to pet him, but not. No, there is no friendliness, it is simply a touch of affirmation. Even so, the black dog cannot conceal a whine of intense feeling. The man had never touched him before. This is new. The man's hands are cold and soft. Stone turned to velvet.
He stands. The dog thinks of his name. Even his name is something to fall in love with. Lucius Malfoy. He would say it sometimes. Alone. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. Lucius. Malfoy. The dog hides things very well, even when he is not a dog, and no one suspected. No one would but the owner of the hurt voice, who knew things about the dog that even the dog did not.
Lucius Malfoy draws out his wand. Every motion he makes is a well-coordinated frame of paint and evening, delicate as the skin of his wrist, as bejeweled as his eyes. He points the wand at the dog, and the dog realizes that he should be afraid. Very, very afraid because Lucius is a powerful wizard, and he is a wanted man. But the dog is not afraid. He stands, staring up at Lucius, eyes fixed on him, his wand hovering right over his head. At night, Lucius looks even more like an angel, the stars almost arranging themselves to illuminate his pale face and sapphiric eyes.
"Show yourself." Lucius whispers.
The dog lowers his head. He is a powerful wizard too. Maybe as powerful as Lucius, and what better time to figure it out? The dog has come this far. Perhaps he should face him, finally.
The dog transforms. Where once he sat, black-furred and pale-eyed he stands, a tall, thin man. Longish black hair, not as wild as it had been. Haunted pale eyes still. Lucius Malfoy stares at Sirius Black, not surprised. Not afraid.
"I should have known. You keep your eyes when you are a dog." Lucius intones.
"Every Animagi keeps some distinguishing mark. That is how we are identified." Sirius nods, as if he is imparting some information about the weather.
The two men are silent. Sirius is not sure how he had imagined this meeting, and he is not even sure what is happening right now. He just stares at Lucius, who stares right back. If only Lucius showed emotion with his eyes! They are simply crystal blue and nothing else. His mouth does not move, his neck does not tense. If Sirius did not know better, he would have sworn Lucius was not real.
They continue to stare. Suddenly, Lucius smiles deeply, as if he is only breathing. Sirius wishes he could touch Lucius' face as he smiles. Sirius stands still, unblinking so as not to miss a movement. A moment.
"Well. There are two possibilities here, Black. Would you like to know what they are?" Lucius asks.
"Yes. Very much so." Sirius returns. He wonders why his voice is not trembling because he would like nothing better at that moment to hold Lucius. Lucius Malfoy looks as though no one has ever held him, not even Narcissa.
Lucius ticks off on his fingers as he speaks. His hands are not clenched.
"One: You really have been working for the Dark Lord, and that is why you have been trying to contact me. Two: You do not work for the Dark Lord, and you are spying on me." Lucius lists.
Sirius remains impassive.
Lucius continues.
"Possibility one would be very good for you. Possibility two would be quite the opposite. I will kill you, and I know you know I can. So Black, which is it?" Lucius regards Sirius.
"Aren't you curious as to how I escaped?" Sirius smiles suddenly. It is his devil-may-care smile, the one James used to call his 'self-destructive look'. And the owner of that guilty voice would say
*that smile worries me, Sirius. You'll really hurt yourself one day…Please…*
Lucius allows another smile. Smaller. Darker.
"Not really." He returns.
"Fair enough." Sirius nods.
They are silent enough. Sirius takes his wand from his pocket and stares at Lucius, who is watching Sirius with more interest than fear. No fear, actually, all interest. Sirius wishes he could find another word…other than lovely. But he cannot. He has never been good with words. Lucius is lovely. He keeps repeating that in his mind.
"What if I were to tell you that the reason I am here has nothing to do with either possibility?" Sirius asks.
Lucius does not seem surprised, but Sirius wonders if this is simply because Lucius Malfoy never looks anything he does not want to.
"What other reason could there be?" Lucius responds delicately. His eyes are shining with night. With cerulean night. Sirius wishes he could touch Lucius…he wishes that often. But now, with Lucius close enough to touch, it is so much stronger. A dream Sirius has from time to time: he reaches for Lucius, but Lucius simply bursts into white light and ice, melting as it touches Sirius' face.
"Oh, I am sure you know that there are hidden reasons for everything, Lucius." Sirius feels a rush of warmth against his cheeks as he says the name.
Lucius is perplexed, but only a slight flicker in his eyes, a slight twitch of his sculpted mouth betray this feeling. His face is calm and smooth and white.
There is a heavy silence. As heavy as summer and the scent of the air before a thunderstorm.
"Yes. Perhaps I do know that. But, Sirius Black, why would a convicted killer who, apparently, is really not a killer at all risk being sent back to Azkaban by sitting out in my backyard as a dog? Whatever reason you do have hidden, Sirius, is a compelling one, I imagine." Lucius drawled, and Sirius feels that warmth again as Lucius says his full name, stretching each syllable, making it something beautiful.
Sirius smiles his devil-may-care smile once more and leans in close. This is the dangerous Sirius that he becomes when he does not care about the risks. When he does not care for the future, for his safety, for anything but the moment. For anything but what he wants.
Lucius watches Sirius impassively.
"Quite compelling." Sirius murmurs softly, and lifts his hand slowly. He is not himself. He is not thinking, only feeling. Sirius brushes his fingers softly over Lucius' face, taking in the softness and coolness and loveliness of Lucius. In a sudden flurry of movement, Lucius grabs Sirius' hand and stares at it, then brings it back to his face, closing his eyes. Sirius is not breathing. The two are close enough…their noses almost bumping…lips almost meeting…
Lucius pulls his hand back.
He drops his hand and stares into Lucius' eyes, waiting. Quite surprisingly, a light pinkish tinge has surfaced in Lucius' cheeks, and his hands are shaking a bit. Sirius licks his lips.
"I will not say a word if you leave now. I will tell no one, I will forget this ever happened if you leave right now." Lucius demands. "Please" He adds, his voice suddenly small and trembling.
Sirius pauses for a full moment, the nods. He transforms back to the dog without another word and pads out into the night, leaving Lucius Malfoy alone, raising his hand to his face and tracing out the warmth still from the light touch of Sirius Black's fingertips.
A/N: I made a major mistake…Lucius' eyes are gray, not blue, but I'm too lazy to change it and I like some of my descriptions ^-^. Sorry about that…