A Bird's-eye View

By Finnity

A/N: Sorry, I've been busy with school (college sucks when you have no idea what you're going to do with your life; I bet I was older than you thought I was judging by my writing huh? I am perpetually stuck in seventeen-year-old mode) and will be, so updates will continue to be sporadic.

Chapter 3: A Friend From Work

It was morning as usual, which meant that Sirius was already up and dressed. Another fortunate revelation for her was that if Sirius thought she was asleep, he'd change in the bedroom, when he would usually change in the confines of the bathroom, a haven from her prying eyes. She caught on quickly and craftily feigned sleep every morning. Even her biological clock had grasped the concept, the impeccable timing granting her eyes a forbidden treat; she woke up every morning just as he was emerging from the bathroom and heading toward his dresser to change. She'd use the mornings' images to gratify her unfulfilled fantasies, to recreate her wedding night into something more satisfying and less, well…pathetic. She was a married woman, who would have thought she'd have to rely on fantasies.

After he'd exited the room she turned over to the side of the bed he had abandoned not too long ago and let the remains of his body heat warm her skin. She could imagine his calloused touch instead of the itchy softness of the sheets. She breathed in the scent from his pillow (his scent) and let the images of mornings soak her mind, thereby fulfilling the physical faculties (excluding of course, taste), her imagination required to imagine what he'd deprived her of.

Broad shoulders. Sinewy back muscles. That musky, earthy scent of a man. Sultry, deepened voice chanting her name. Sleek black hair gently caressing the angles of his face. Rough fingers pushing the hair back to reveal tempting ear lobes. Rough fingers that refuse to smooth her hair, caress her cheek…

The sheets had lost their warmth by now. She turned over to her back and sighed. Even her fantasies left her cold and unsatisfied. Suddenly a door shut- the front door, she thought with a start. Was he leaving already? On a Sunday? And without telling her? Actually, that last bit wasn't surprising, but she ignored that thought and hastily scrambled out of bed.

"Sirius!" she cried, frantically stumbling her way down the steps. "Sirius, where are you…"

She trailed off when she noticed that he was not alone. There was a small, rotund man with fuzzy, graying hair standing beside Sirius with an amused smile on his face.

"Oh. Hello, dear," she greeted with contrived nonchalance.

Sirius stared at her in a way no woman would appreciate being looked at while she was dressed in nothing more than a night gown: something akin to horror, embarrassment and disbelief. After several seconds of gaping, he finally managed to regain himself to stumble out a flustered apology, to his companion, not her.

"Mr. Hamill," he addressed the man who, she gathered, must have just entered the house. "I am extremely sorry, sir. This is-" he started, gesturing vaguely in the direction of his wife.

"Ah! Mrs. Black, I presume," Mr. Hamill cut in jovially. "How lovely to finally meet you," he added, eying her attire amusedly.

"Oh, yes! Mr. Hamill," she answered, recognizing the name. "You work with my Sirius. How are you, sir?"

"Very well, indeed! It's been a beautiful weekend. And how are you on this fine morning?"

"Lovely, as well, my good sir! Would you believe-"

"Pardon my interruption," said Sirius, shooting Mr. Hamill an apologetic glance, "but what did you seek me for?" he queried, glancing briefly at his wife to let her know he was addressing her. "I gather it must have been terribly urgent for you to careen after me in such a manner."

She almost flushed under his unwavering, reproachful gaze, but as she was a quick-witted woman with a high threshold for discomfiture, she reveled in the rare contact between their eyes. No matter that it wasn't physical. Baby steps, she reassured herself.

She plastered a sensuous quirk to her lips, batting her eyes coyly, and cooed with saccharine smoothness, "Only the urgency of love, dear." She allowed herself an internal victory smirk when Sirius Black spluttered, incoherence very unbecoming of him.

"That is highly inappropriate talk," he rebuked, finally, when he managed to regain his composure. He transferred his disdainful, wife-ward glare to Mr. Hamill in the form of a silent apology, while the verbal one was discarded with careless wave of the hand.

"Oh go on, Mr. Black," said Mr.Hamill. "There're only married ears here. I may be old, but love is no foreign subject to me, sir." This gentle admonishment was punctuated with a animated wink.

"Yes, sir," Sirius said, bowing his head courteously in Mr. Hamill's direction. From where she was standing, she thought she saw Sirius roll his eyes, but it could have been the awkward angle from which she'd seen his face, or a trick of the light in those gorgeous grey eyes…

"…to the office. I suggest you get yourself properly dressed in the meantime."

She hadn't even realized she was being spoken to, too busy staring into the eyes trained her direction to wonder why or even notice his mouth moving. She snapped back to her senses after vaguely recalling him say something about the office.

Ignoring his later comment, she echoed him dumbly, "The office?" She shook her head confusedly. "It's Sunday. You're not working on a Sunday, surely?"

"Nonsense!" cried Mr. Hamill. "I've only asked Mr. Black to retrieve some documents for me. You'll have your husband back in no time, to do with him as you please on this lovely Sunday."

She giggle obligingly. "Thank you kindly, sir."

"No matter. I would have gotten them myself, you know, but the papers are in his office and I haven't the key. Your husband is a very private man, you see. Oh, but of course you wouldn't know much about that. You're his wife!"

She felt a very curious sting in her abdomen at those words. What did he mean by that? Did he deduce how Sirius treated her not as a wife, but as an inconvenient houseguest. No, surely not. It wouldn't have been proper etiquette to say so, even is he had. Which he did not. He had meant that Sirius would have opened up to her, being her husband and all. The sting didn't go away after that clarification. Yes, she knew he was a private person, but only because he was so reserved around her, his wife, the one person he should have been unguarded with…

Oh

Just like that the stinging sensation became a pleasant one; an epiphany. Maybe he wasn't guarded around her because he disliked her, but because he was, in fact, treating her as he did everyone else. She wasn't sure if that should have reassured her, her husband treating her like he treated other people, no one special, but it did. It wasn't that he disliked her. He was just a reserved individual, was all. She'd give him time, and a little bit of cajoling.

"Yes, well," began Sirius, irritably, "as much as I like being the topic of conversation, I think we should be going."

"Wait!" she yelled as he and Mr. Hamill made their way to the door, then added, with exaggerated sweetness, "dear." She stepped down a step, hesitantly. "May I join you and Mr. Hamill on your walk?"

She knew the answer to the inquiry before she even asked, and she certainly wasn't expecting a 'yes.' But having an audience had its advantages.

Sirius looked irritated, no doubt wise to her intentions, but Mr. Hamill cut off any objection he might have voiced with a jovial, "Of course, dear lady!" Sirius scowled. "Your company would no doubt make the journey all the merrier. After we've done our business you and Mr. Black can have a private stroll, eh? I know when my wife and I were newly-wed we could scarcely be seen apart. What do you say, sound good?"

"Oh! I think it sounds like a lovely idea!" she exclaimed, bouncing excitedly on her toes. "Sirius?"

"You still have to dress," he pointed out, "and you know how long women take 'preparing themselves'," he added to Hamill.

"Oh, not this lady, I'm sure," answered Hamill, "not with a face like that." Mrs. Black giggled appreciatively.

"Hurry then," Sirius bit out through gritted teeth, and even if his tight smile and forcibly light tone could fool Mr. Hamill, they did not deceive her. His resentment- not for Mr. Hamill, but for her- was all too apparent in those cold grey eyes. Like stone, they were; she would see them filled with desire even if it took her a lifetime.


They walked side-by-side on the crowded sidewalk. It didn't matter that they took up half the path. They were rich and beautiful; people moved for them. They even spared them passing, reverent glances. Mrs. Black loved it. She was dressed in various shades of indigo to accentuate her eyes, and although she'd had little time to properly titivate, she'd managed to get Lila, their maid, to tie her messy curls into a loose braid, which she parted to hang from the nape of her neck and down to rest on her shoulder. She knew she looked good, even on one of her sparse disordered days- which is a feat in itself, no matter that she attracted the gaze of more male eyes than any other woman on the street.

She felt a harsh nudge, disrupting her reverie. She looked up sharply and when she met Sirius's eyes, he jerked his head discreetly toward Mr. Hamill, who was gazing at her inquisitively. That was when she put two and two together and realized he must have asked her a question.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hamill," she said, feigning an apologetic countenance. "I didn't catch that; would you mind repeating?"

"Not a problem. I was only curious how you've gotten along with Sirius's family. Sirius tells me he gets on fine with your parents and says the same for you and his, but I like to hear things from the horse's mouth. I know the Blacks, and no one is good enough for their boys, though I reckon they must have taken a liking to you or you two wouldn't be married, eh?" He finished his speech with an exaggerated wink as she watched Sirius look away in irritation.

"Oh, yes," said she, "his parents are lovely, and exceedingly obliging. Very courteous and prestigious family, the Blacks."

Sirius's unobtrusive huff of distaste was not discreet enough to escape her notice, though Mr. Hamill seemed not to spot it. "That's good," he said, nodding, "I have a daughter of my own, and I know that as long as he loves her, any beloved of hers would be welcomed warmly into the family." His eyes scanned the path before them, but seemed not to really focus on any particular thing. He turned abruptly toward her. "How do you feel about children?"

Children? she thought. To say she'd never thought about it would be a lie. To say she hadn't thought about it in a good light since babysitting for her cousin's children would be spot on. "Oh, I…" abhor them. "They're… nice. God's gifts, you know."

"I don't suppose you plan on having kids anytime soon?"

Oh! Suddenly it hit her. Kids! Why hadn't she thought of that? She didn't want kids, that was certain, but if she could get what she wanted from Sirius through this baby-making façade, then she would put up with the consequences. It hardly fazed her that that might result in her being a mother (losing her figure, letting herself go, lack of sleep, nuisances running about the house… no no, that won't happen to her; that's what grandparents are for).

"Actually," she said suddenly, and Sirius's eyes snapped to her. "I would very much like to have a child in the near future."

"Ah. So you two are trying for a baby then?" Mr. Hamill queried.

Sirius looked stricken, comically wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and shaking his head emphatically. "No." He shook his head again. "No," he repeated resolutely, and that seemed all he could say at the moment.

"No?" echoed Mr. Hamill, looking at Sirius, then his wife, then back to Sirius in obvious confusion.

"Well," she amended, "not now. However, in the very near future, we hope. It's not set in stone or anything, but that's how it's done, isn't it?"

Mr. Hamill chuckled, nudging Sirius's elbow. "The man stands no chance in such matters, believe me. Whatever the woman wants, the woman gets, and if the woman wants a baby…" He trailed off purposefully, confident Sirius got the point, which, if the vacant stare was anything to go by, he did. "You keep that in mind."

When Sirius and his wife locked eyes, she allowed herself a challenging, triumphant quirk of the lips and cocked eyebrow. Her expression seemed to echo Mr. Hamill's words. You keep that in mind.

Looking away deliberately, Sirius spoke in a definitive tone, "I don't plan on delving into this discussion in public, but so far the decision remains in the negative. Now if you'll excuse me," he inclined his head slightly, before traversing the final steps between them and a building she supposed was the office. "I'll just retrieve those papers and be out in two minutes time. Mr. Hamill, would you mind terribly if I showed my wife the office?"

"Of course, by all means! I'll just wait outside, shall I?"

Sirius nodded, pulling his wife in through the door. She relished the rare contact.

"Why, Sirius," she cooed, "what ever is the rush?" He said nothing as they neared his office door. He tugged his keys violently from his trouser pocket and struggled with the lock for a full minute before forcefully pushing the door open.

"Get in," he said without looking at her.

"Wha-"

"Now."

He pushed her inside before shutting the door. When he turned around, he had fire in his eyes and she couldn't help thinking he looked absolutely gorgeous, if not a tad (a lot) frightening. She cowered.

"Do you have any sense of propriety?"

If she'd had notions regarding what she thought he was going to say, she was certainly mistaken.

"Pardon?"

"Were you raised in a barn? By wolves, perhaps?"

Confusion quickly receded, pushing indignation to the forefront.

"Excuse me-"

"Are you inebriated? Though that's not much of an excuse, I must say, and -dear God- it's not even noon, I'd prefer to think your brazen behavior is the influence of alcohol and not actually your own volition, because while we can mend your alcohol dependence, it will be a more trying deal correcting your personality."

After his speech, she was paralyzed with offense, highly affronted, and livid. "That is a fine way to speak to your wife. I shall have to ask you where you learned your manners," she rebuked, as coldly as her eyes conveyed the insult. This may be her husband, but this was her character he was insulting, and if she didn't stand up for herself, how could he respect her? And how could one love someone he doesn't repect?

"This line of talk is irrelevant," Sirius said, shaking his head distractedly, as if shaking any antagonism from his head. "You do not converse with other men- a colleague, at that!- when you're in a state of undress." (Is that jealous?) She perked. "It is highly improper. Your behavior says as much of my character as it does yours, so next time you feel the need to act inappropriately, remember you are representing two."

"Oh, Mr. Hamill didn't seem to mind." She waved her hand airily. "In fact," she leered, "I'd say that, being a man, he rather appreciated it."

Sirius inhaled audibly, and she knew she'd inadvertently plucked the right chord. "It's nice to have someone," she paused to brush fingertips delicately over her clavicle to toy coquettishly with her top button, smiling all the while, "appreciate me."

If she was hoping to incite some declaration of jealousy and confession of love, she was sadly mistaken. Sirius scoffed. "How highly you think of yourself! I'm sure you've been told that conceit is unbecoming." She huffed at this attack on her character. "And furthermore, you do not speak that way of Mr. Hamill. He is a happily married man of over thirty years."

"And that's a regulation, is it? You get married and that's it, you're instantaneously and perpetually happy? Is there even such a thing as monogamy? Honestly, Sirius, I think you're a bit confused. There's marriage and there's fulfillment, but the two do not constitute an unequivocal, united entity."

She gave him a meaningful look (you should know that), which he effectively avoided. "I know," he murmured, then looked at her sharply, demanding, "You will behave, is that clear? There will be no more of your baby talk."

"You cannot just avoid an issue like that, Sirius!" she spat, simmering. "You may the man, but your are a married man now, and I am your wife. You have to talk to me" (Please talk to me). "This is a two-person decision."

"There is a time and a place for marital discussions. Amid dozens of passersby, no. With a colleague as an audience, definitely not. Is this making any sense to you?"

Ignoring the condescension, she replied, "When exactly do you plan to have this discussion then? Hmm? We hardly talk when we're not in public and even then-"

Snippets of former conversations flashed in her mind's periphery: Pass the jam, please…. Tell Stella not to set my place at dinner… Someone from the office called…

They talked like strangers.

"…and you don't want to talk about it in public," she continued, as if she hadn't broken off. "When?"

Sirius gave no pause. "We'll talk about it now," he stated. "We're not having; I don't want any, I don't like them, I have no parental abilities," he said simply, "and neither do you."

"I am a woman, of course I have parental abilities."

"First, I highly doubt that. Second, I wasn't talking about that." He smiled knowingly. "I know you don't like children."

"Every woman wants to have children," she defended. She omitted the don't be absurd, knowing full well that wouldn't get her anywhere with him. "She wouldn't be a very good wife if she didn't. It is her duty. As is a man's-"

"Spare me. I'm not having this, or any, discussion with a liar," he seethed. "Now if you'll excuse me." He retrieved a stack of papers from a file in his desk drawer and slipped it into a manila envelope before slipping past her toward the door.

"No, Sirius," she insisted with a tremor in her voice. Her chance was slipping away. "No. You cannot write my wishes off like that. You can't just- I want children," she said petulantly, following him out of the office, and grabbed his arm desperately.

He shook her grip off and locked the door. "You and I both know what you want," he quipped. "As for the children," he turned her, "unless you've forgotten how babies come to be, you shouldn't be expecting any. Not from me." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off down the hall.

She was shocked. He'd never once alluded to…that, his repulsion to her, she supposed. He practically just stated, flat out, that he would never consummate with her. No! This child had been her ace in the hole. Without it, she supposed she'd have to extract from him what she wanted the old-fashioned way. Back to Plan One: Seduction.

…Hadn't Sirius made it more than clear that he didn't want her, though?

No, no. He was still a man, and a man can only go so long without sex. He'd come to her when his resolve finally crumbled in on itself like the useless, wet paper bag that it was.

She stood behind the door listening to the murmur of voices outside. Just before pushing the door open, she bit her bottom lip, pinched her cheeks, shook her hair furiously, and unbuttoned her tip button. There. Now whatever Mr. Hamill inferred from her appearance was his own.

She feigned breathlessness when she greeted him. "Oh, h-hello… Mr. Hamill." She took another audible breath and let it out slowly, like a happy little sigh. "Everything alright?" She buttoned her sweater with affected discreetness. It took all of her strength (well, not all her strength, she was, after all, a fortitudinous woman) to repress a self-satisfied smirk as Mr. Hamill appraised her appearance. He smiled knowingly at Sirius, who managed a sheepish half-smile and slight crinkle of the eyes.

"Ah…" was all he said before turning to his wife, sending her a discreet smirk that said if you think this bothers me, think again. Which she interpreted as gaining ground. "Right," he said after a beat, "Here you are, sir."

Mr. Hamill accepted the extended envelope. "I'll see you at work tomorrow, eh?" He turned toward Mrs. Black. "It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise, " she replied, inclining her head politely. "Hope to see you soon."

She waved goodbye as Mr. Hamill walked through the crowd of people. When she turned, however, she saw that Sirius was still looking ahead with an unreadable look. She followed his gaze. From what she could discern, he was either looking at a mousy-haired boy or a rather blond young lady- and how dare he stare at another woman!

"Remus!" he shouted preemptively.

To her surprise, the mousy-haired boy's step faltered before he almost reluctantly looked up and smiled.

"You know him?" she asked.

Sirius either ignored or he failed to recognize the patronizing tone because he replied airily, "Yes, he's a good friend. I haven't seen him in ages though. Not since…"

"The wedding?" she queried, relishing his sudden willingness to communicate with her.

"Hmm?" he answered distractedly, waving Remus over. "Oh, no, he wasn't there." Before she had a chance to ask why, he'd already enveloped Remus in a brotherly one-armed hug, while she was left to wonder how someone close enough for Sirius to embrace in public would not have attended his friend's wedding. Though, it didn't seem to bother Sirius, which lead her to assume this Remus fellow must have had a legitimate excuse. Although, from the way Remus was skirting around looking decidedly uncomfortable, it seemed like he was guilty of something. Perhaps for not being able to come to the wedding.

"Hello," he said politely. "You must be…"

"Sirius's wife," she affirmed, nodding, "Yes; Remus, right?"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yes," he answered, glancing curiously at Sirius. "I am. Er," he extended his hand stiffly, probably realizing the exchange of amenities was due, "How are you?"

She took the proffered hand politely with the required "Well, and you?"

"So," said Sirius after a considerable amount of uncomfortable silence. Remus smiled gingerly, fidgeting with his shirtsleeve. His gaze was focused just over their shoulders; he looked almost as if he were late for or waiting for something, but when she looked over her shoulder, there was nothing there.

"So," she said, interrupting the ever present silence, "How do you know my Sirius?"

Remus shared a glance with Sirius, almost as if he were searching for confirmation, "I'm a friend." He looked at her again. "We share a common workplace."

"Oh? You work together? Sirius never mentioned having a friend at work," she noted, ignoring the petulant voice in her head reminding her that Sirius never tells her anything.

Remus was silent for a beat, then, "No, I suppose he wouldn't. Listen," he said brusquely, talking another quick glance just passed them, "I really should be going. It was very nice meeting you, Mrs... Black…"

"I thought," said Sirius, briskly, before Remus could scamper off, "that you weren't coming back until Tuesday.

Remus hesitated. "I - no. No, I got back Friday."

"Friday," Sirius echoed helplessly, and sounding a little put off for reasons unbeknownst to her. And where exactly was he back from? "You," he stopped and glanced at his wife momentarily. "You should come over for dinner," he finished, still watching her, curiously trying to gauge her reaction.

She smiled. Though she was more than certain this Remus wouldn't be much for company, he was, in fact, company, and with company came opportunity to enact her plan (i.e. grope her husband).

"Oh yes, of course," she assented, smiling broadly at the both of them. "Do come."

After a bit of uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot, Remus answered somewhat ruefully, "I'm terribly busy this afternoon, and I foresee only more work in the future; I have a lot of catching up to do… since the research in France and all. You know," he shrugged vaguely.

"Right," said Sirius simply. "How was that?"

"Oh," said Remus. "Good. It was very nice. You know how I love learning new things."

"Accounting, Remus," Sirius laughed. "You're studying accounting. How fascinating can numbers be?"

"Oh, very," he answered, freeing his sleeves for the first time from his vice-like grip. "Listen, I really do have to go," he said regretfully, "but we'll keep in touch, yeah?"

"You could tell me about it," Sirius said quickly. "About France and numbers. Over dinner." The imploring please was left unspoken. Mrs. Black felt Remus ought to just agree; it was the least he could do after not coming to the wedding, and not seeing his friend three weeks since.

"Oh, yes, do," she said excitably. "I'd love to hear all about France. I'm part French, you know." She paused when they both turned to look at her as if they'd forgotten she was there (Honestly! How rude).

"Come?" Sirius entreated, turning back to Remus. "I haven't seen you in ages. It's been bloody James nonstop since."

Remus, she guessed, must have know this little quip about James (who she still remembered was Sirius's best friend, and must also be one of Remus's) must have been in jest, because he smiled reminiscently.

"I suppose," he said, sighing "that I don't have much of a choice, do I? If only to spare you James's company."

Sirius grinned broadly, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "Good man."

A/N: Review? ConCrit? D