CHAPTER NINE
"Albus! Albus!"
The old man looked up as the dark-haired man ran into his office, face face flushed.
"What is it Severus?" He asked, concern evident in his voice; it was not usual for the potions master to be so flustered.
Severus Snape, potions professor at Hogwarts, bane of his students, sat abruptly, "Albus." He breathed, "Lucius Malfoy, he has begun recruiting the ancient dark families to his cause."
Albus Dumbledore turned his head slightly to look at Severus, "I assume he invited you?"
Severus nodded a sharp affirmative.
"Was there any hint of Sirius Black?"
Severus looked thoughtful, "No, but from the parts of the plan Malfoy revealed to us contained elements that were strangely alike to many of Black's strategies."
"What was this plan?"
Severus drew in a deep breath.
"A plan to bring back the Dark Lord."
---------------------------------
"Times! Get your newspaper 'ere! Newspaper! Get yer newspapers!"
The young newpaper boy, face cast in shadow by the worn peaked cap on his head, brandished a newspaper from his trolley like a mace.
A young, rich couple passed by, walking arm in arm. The man listenedtosomething whispered into his ear by the woman and smiled, nodding. He held out a hand to halt the paper boy and pressed a crisp note into his hand. The boy looked down at it, eyes widening, and thrust the newspaper respectfully into the brown-haired man's hand and hurried away before the man changed his mind about the amount of money he had given the boy.
The strawberry haired woman laughed lightly at the boy's face as he walked away, and turned back to the man, pulling her fur-lined cloak closer to her slender body.
Her smile dropped when she saw the man's face becoming serious.
"What is it?" She asked, drawing closer to him.
He looked up, searching her face fleetingly, "Here." He said, passing the paper to her.
--
MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE! P
Sirius Black, known murderer and suspected terrorist, has escaped from a top secret maximum security prison. Considered armed and dangerous, his current whereabouts are unknown. If seen, the public is strictly advised not to call attention to themselves and call the hotline number listed below as soon a it is safe to. This man is on the country's Most Wanted list, and may be insane. He has recruited a number of people and authorities suspect that he is planning to wage a full-scale attack in the future.
Sirius Black was first convicted seven years ago when he murdered his best friend's family and kidnapped their one-year-old son. This son is still missing, but is known to be alive. He would be eight years old with dark hair and bright green eyes.
Anyone with information may ring the hotline, rewards are offered for any leads and complete anonymity is assured.
--
The woman looked up at the man fearfully, "Black?" She whispered.
---------------------------------
Bellatrix Lestrange was not happy. She had been granted the Ruby Master Room, a room rich in dark woods and deep red rich carpets and drapes with enough mirrors to provide an entire dressing room for a troupe of divas with new clothing all in her size filling three wardrobes.
She had spent the majority of the past few weeks in it.
Hiding at the top of the stairs like she had used to when she was a girl and spying on the adults with Sirius before they grew apart, she had learnt that the old Inner Circle of the Dark Lord had been regularly coming to meetings in Malfoy Manor.
One one such night, dressed in a gown such a dark red it seemed black with a floor-length cloak to match, she was returning toher room, deeply aggravated as the men had moved to a different room, one she could not eavesdrop on, and they had all just left with annoyingly secretive smirkson their faces.
She turned a corner, strides long and cat-like, and had walked right into someone. She stumbled, falling, cloak wrapped around herself, twisted around her body as she tumbled.
Then two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up short, she was yanked back up, hair falling out of it's bun and cascading down her back.
She was held tightly, securely against a man's chest. She looked up, face flushed from her near-fall.
"Bellatrix." A low voice said, strangely harsh, as if it had not been used for a long time.
She looked up, her dark eyes meeting amber ones.
"Rabastan." She replied.
She had not seen him since their escape from Azkaban. The dementors had affected him worse than her, he had spent the past few weeks healing, away from anywhere she could find.
He smiled slightly, a enigmatic turning up of the corners of his lips.
"What would you be doing up and around at this time of night?" He said it softly, a hint of teasing in that rough voice.
She bristled, "Why should I not be up?" She said in a dangerous voice, almost hissing.
He didn't answer her, instead lifting a hand to brush a strand of dark hair away from her face. After a long a long silence he commented, "Azkaban didn't change you much moi cherie. Still dark, still dangerous, still beautiful."
She looked up at him sharply, suddenly accutely aware of how she was still kept pressed against his body.
"Let me go of me." She said warningly.
"Or what?" His voice lowered.
"Or we'll never make it too the bedroom - ." She said huskily
She never got to finish. The man whirled her around into a dark alcove, pressing his mouth against hers.
--
His ears had caught something else, coming down the hallway, striding purposefully, only one person walked with such an arrogant swagger.
Lucius Malfoy.
He glanced down at her, she was not supposed to be out and around the manor, Lucius would find a way to make her pay for being out.
He looked to the side for a moment, and his eyes caught a shadow cast by a small archway. Perfect.
He pushed her quickly into it, following her in there, pressing himself hard against her to fit. There was only one way to keep her quiet now. He shoved his head down, lips crashing onto hers. She arched against him, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer to her. A sudden surge of lust coursed through him, filling his senses with rushing heat and reminding him how long he had been deprived of a woman's touch whilst imprisoned.
Vaguely he registered that the footsteps had long passed and he pulled back from her, hands sliding down her arms. She looked up at him, cruelly glaring at him, holding him in her gaze as she violently pulled him down again, trailing a tongue across his jawline.
He roughly forced himself away from her, "Lucius Malfoy." He whispered harshly, "He was heading towards your room, he will find you gone."
She rose onto her toes, pulling him down slightly so that they were nose to nose. When she spoke, it was in a low, sultry purring that caressed his ears. "Then we'll have to provide me with an alibi, won't we?"
Sirius was buzzing around the house, virtually bouncing off the walls. His excitement was barely contained and his eyes were sparking with energy. He raced around, checking everything.
Tonight was the beginning of the festival.
The Brazilian festival was huge, thousands of people in costumes, some on huge stilts with flowing wings others with costumes so heavy they were inhuman, with color whirling around before your very eyes and the music taking over all of your senses. Sirius had only ever heard it talked about, but the way the Brazilians spoke of it, with passion pouring out of them, told Sirius enough.
He heard the door slam and the sound of feet pattering down the hallway.
"Pa'foo!"
Sirius ran down to where Harry was, excitement too great for such a meagre act as walking.
"Yup?"
Sirius faltered when he saw Harry's serious expression, at eight years old, the boy was only ever serious in meditation.
"What is it Harry?"
Harry looked up at Sirius, face tragically wreathed with despair.
"Pa'foo'," he took a deep breath, "I can't go through with it."
--
Flashback
"Pa'foo." Harry said hesitantly, looking up from the book on magical theory he was supposed to be reading.
Sirius looked up from the newspaper, looking slightly bemused, "Yes?" He asked.
"I think I'm in love."
Sirius double-took. "You're only eight years old!" He blurted out involuntarily, then immediately regretted it.
Harry's face became aggravated, "So?" He challenged.
"Nothing, I was just shocked Harry. Do go on, who's the lucky girl?"
For a moment Harry looked like he was going to correct Sirius's phrasing, then sighed and looked away, "Cat." He said simply.
Sirius thought for a moment, "That red-head in your martial arts class, yeah?"
Harry nodded glumly.
Sirius nodded approvingly to himself, "Yes, she would be rather cute to someone your age."
Harry's eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he scowled heavily at Sirius.
Sirius looked at him innocently, "What?" He asked defensively.
"You're supposed to be disapproving." Harry said simply.
Sirius was taken aback, "Really, who says?" He asked, curious in spite of himself.
"Jon." Harry said softly, "He said that parents don't like their kids going out too young." He was looking at the floor.
Sirius broke into a laugh, Harry looked up, confused. "Well that explains it then." Sirius said in between chuckles, "I'm not your parent, I'm a godfather."
Harry rose an eyebrow, mind completely taken off track by the new discovery, "they aren't?" He questioned, frowning.
"Of course not, parents are stiff, strict people who stop all the fun, godfathers sneak in during the night and take their godchild partying without the parents' knowledge." Sirius deadpanned.
"Oh." Harry's face cleared and he ran a hand through his forelock. "But Pa'foo, what can I do? I can't just go up to her and tell her." He wailed plaintively.
Sirius's mien became positively devilish. "I have a plan." He whispered conspiringly.
By the time night fell, Harry had promised Sirius that he, Harry Potter, would at least kiss Cat's cheek on the night of the festival.
End Flashback
--
"Of course you can." Sirius exclaimed, "It's just a kiss on the cheek! If it all goes wrong you can just say it was congratulations for performing well or something."
Harry's face still looked desperate, "But it won't be." He cried.
Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I know, Harry, but you say that so that you don't get embarrassed if she doesn't like you."
--
Color. Music. Dance. Sound. Drums. A swirling fall of crimson cloth, a whirling dancer, a parade of giants on stilts waltzing past. Women and men dancing as if possessed. High priestesses in wide hoop-dresses twirling elegantly, throwing flowers out to the crowd.
The festival was well into its first night, and the time was endless, there was no thinking, no human faults, no inhibitions. It was just the music and the soul, laid bare for all the heavens to see.
This was the festival of Brazil.
And in the midst of the intoxicating chaos stood a small, dark haired boy with a bright lightning scar standing out against the sudden pallor of his usually tanned skin. Everything seemed to slow to him, the dancers, the music, the drums reduced to a rhythmic beat somewhere in the background of his mind.
And then he leaned forwards, towards the red-head whom he had called out to only moments before, when the world had still seemed itself.
Her mouth moved and her whisper echoed in his ears; "Harry?"
Then his lips brushed against her cheek for the briefest of moments, and the world returned to normal speed.
He straightened awkwardly, looking at the ground, a deep blush spreading high across his cheeks, too scared to look up at her.
Moments passed, in which dancers and musicians swirled passed them, jostling and pushing them along. Harry stumbled, and involuntarily looked up.
He didn't know later why he had said it. Perhaps it had been her eyes, her face, the music, something but the moment he looked up at her, the words escaped his lips.
"I love you."
He heard her sharp intake of breath, and mentally kicked himself, why had he said that? Why?!
He started when she kissed him back, chastely pressing her lips to his for a moment.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, then breathlessly replied, "Me too."
In that moment, the exhilaration that flooded his body was so strong, he gasped.
Little did he know, in that perfect minute, that the very next day, his world would be torn out from beneath him once again.
--------------
--
That night, the brazilian man who was Harry Potter's music instructor would read the next morning's paper, fresh from the press.
And he would read the article. He would see the photograph. And he would dial the hotline to report that he had seen a mass-murderer.
-------- --
A/N Whew! Sorry about the long wait guys, it's been a hectic few weeks. Anyway, a bit of fluff in this chapter, and I think I'll have to bump the rating up again for implications. sigh.
Thanks to all the kind people with all the wonderful reviews. I am so not sure about this chapter, it, like, achieves nothing. Ah well, more on the plots next chapter, I hope...
If you choose to review (note, no charges apply for reviews) any suggestions, constructive criticism, or ideas are welcomed, for though I do have a plot (one which is being tweaked constantly) I love it when people give me comments.
Anyhow, I swear that I will write replies to reviews, but currently my access to the internet is extremely limited, especially with my laptop, Bartimaeus, incapacitated.
Luv ya all,
Rue D.
"Albus! Albus!"
The old man looked up as the dark-haired man ran into his office, face face flushed.
"What is it Severus?" He asked, concern evident in his voice; it was not usual for the potions master to be so flustered.
Severus Snape, potions professor at Hogwarts, bane of his students, sat abruptly, "Albus." He breathed, "Lucius Malfoy, he has begun recruiting the ancient dark families to his cause."
Albus Dumbledore turned his head slightly to look at Severus, "I assume he invited you?"
Severus nodded a sharp affirmative.
"Was there any hint of Sirius Black?"
Severus looked thoughtful, "No, but from the parts of the plan Malfoy revealed to us contained elements that were strangely alike to many of Black's strategies."
"What was this plan?"
Severus drew in a deep breath.
"A plan to bring back the Dark Lord."
---------------------------------
"Times! Get your newspaper 'ere! Newspaper! Get yer newspapers!"
The young newpaper boy, face cast in shadow by the worn peaked cap on his head, brandished a newspaper from his trolley like a mace.
A young, rich couple passed by, walking arm in arm. The man listenedtosomething whispered into his ear by the woman and smiled, nodding. He held out a hand to halt the paper boy and pressed a crisp note into his hand. The boy looked down at it, eyes widening, and thrust the newspaper respectfully into the brown-haired man's hand and hurried away before the man changed his mind about the amount of money he had given the boy.
The strawberry haired woman laughed lightly at the boy's face as he walked away, and turned back to the man, pulling her fur-lined cloak closer to her slender body.
Her smile dropped when she saw the man's face becoming serious.
"What is it?" She asked, drawing closer to him.
He looked up, searching her face fleetingly, "Here." He said, passing the paper to her.
--
MASS MURDERER ON THE LOOSE! P
Sirius Black, known murderer and suspected terrorist, has escaped from a top secret maximum security prison. Considered armed and dangerous, his current whereabouts are unknown. If seen, the public is strictly advised not to call attention to themselves and call the hotline number listed below as soon a it is safe to. This man is on the country's Most Wanted list, and may be insane. He has recruited a number of people and authorities suspect that he is planning to wage a full-scale attack in the future.
Sirius Black was first convicted seven years ago when he murdered his best friend's family and kidnapped their one-year-old son. This son is still missing, but is known to be alive. He would be eight years old with dark hair and bright green eyes.
Anyone with information may ring the hotline, rewards are offered for any leads and complete anonymity is assured.
--
The woman looked up at the man fearfully, "Black?" She whispered.
---------------------------------
Bellatrix Lestrange was not happy. She had been granted the Ruby Master Room, a room rich in dark woods and deep red rich carpets and drapes with enough mirrors to provide an entire dressing room for a troupe of divas with new clothing all in her size filling three wardrobes.
She had spent the majority of the past few weeks in it.
Hiding at the top of the stairs like she had used to when she was a girl and spying on the adults with Sirius before they grew apart, she had learnt that the old Inner Circle of the Dark Lord had been regularly coming to meetings in Malfoy Manor.
One one such night, dressed in a gown such a dark red it seemed black with a floor-length cloak to match, she was returning toher room, deeply aggravated as the men had moved to a different room, one she could not eavesdrop on, and they had all just left with annoyingly secretive smirkson their faces.
She turned a corner, strides long and cat-like, and had walked right into someone. She stumbled, falling, cloak wrapped around herself, twisted around her body as she tumbled.
Then two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up short, she was yanked back up, hair falling out of it's bun and cascading down her back.
She was held tightly, securely against a man's chest. She looked up, face flushed from her near-fall.
"Bellatrix." A low voice said, strangely harsh, as if it had not been used for a long time.
She looked up, her dark eyes meeting amber ones.
"Rabastan." She replied.
She had not seen him since their escape from Azkaban. The dementors had affected him worse than her, he had spent the past few weeks healing, away from anywhere she could find.
He smiled slightly, a enigmatic turning up of the corners of his lips.
"What would you be doing up and around at this time of night?" He said it softly, a hint of teasing in that rough voice.
She bristled, "Why should I not be up?" She said in a dangerous voice, almost hissing.
He didn't answer her, instead lifting a hand to brush a strand of dark hair away from her face. After a long a long silence he commented, "Azkaban didn't change you much moi cherie. Still dark, still dangerous, still beautiful."
She looked up at him sharply, suddenly accutely aware of how she was still kept pressed against his body.
"Let me go of me." She said warningly.
"Or what?" His voice lowered.
"Or we'll never make it too the bedroom - ." She said huskily
She never got to finish. The man whirled her around into a dark alcove, pressing his mouth against hers.
--
His ears had caught something else, coming down the hallway, striding purposefully, only one person walked with such an arrogant swagger.
Lucius Malfoy.
He glanced down at her, she was not supposed to be out and around the manor, Lucius would find a way to make her pay for being out.
He looked to the side for a moment, and his eyes caught a shadow cast by a small archway. Perfect.
He pushed her quickly into it, following her in there, pressing himself hard against her to fit. There was only one way to keep her quiet now. He shoved his head down, lips crashing onto hers. She arched against him, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer to her. A sudden surge of lust coursed through him, filling his senses with rushing heat and reminding him how long he had been deprived of a woman's touch whilst imprisoned.
Vaguely he registered that the footsteps had long passed and he pulled back from her, hands sliding down her arms. She looked up at him, cruelly glaring at him, holding him in her gaze as she violently pulled him down again, trailing a tongue across his jawline.
He roughly forced himself away from her, "Lucius Malfoy." He whispered harshly, "He was heading towards your room, he will find you gone."
She rose onto her toes, pulling him down slightly so that they were nose to nose. When she spoke, it was in a low, sultry purring that caressed his ears. "Then we'll have to provide me with an alibi, won't we?"
Sirius was buzzing around the house, virtually bouncing off the walls. His excitement was barely contained and his eyes were sparking with energy. He raced around, checking everything.
Tonight was the beginning of the festival.
The Brazilian festival was huge, thousands of people in costumes, some on huge stilts with flowing wings others with costumes so heavy they were inhuman, with color whirling around before your very eyes and the music taking over all of your senses. Sirius had only ever heard it talked about, but the way the Brazilians spoke of it, with passion pouring out of them, told Sirius enough.
He heard the door slam and the sound of feet pattering down the hallway.
"Pa'foo!"
Sirius ran down to where Harry was, excitement too great for such a meagre act as walking.
"Yup?"
Sirius faltered when he saw Harry's serious expression, at eight years old, the boy was only ever serious in meditation.
"What is it Harry?"
Harry looked up at Sirius, face tragically wreathed with despair.
"Pa'foo'," he took a deep breath, "I can't go through with it."
--
Flashback
"Pa'foo." Harry said hesitantly, looking up from the book on magical theory he was supposed to be reading.
Sirius looked up from the newspaper, looking slightly bemused, "Yes?" He asked.
"I think I'm in love."
Sirius double-took. "You're only eight years old!" He blurted out involuntarily, then immediately regretted it.
Harry's face became aggravated, "So?" He challenged.
"Nothing, I was just shocked Harry. Do go on, who's the lucky girl?"
For a moment Harry looked like he was going to correct Sirius's phrasing, then sighed and looked away, "Cat." He said simply.
Sirius thought for a moment, "That red-head in your martial arts class, yeah?"
Harry nodded glumly.
Sirius nodded approvingly to himself, "Yes, she would be rather cute to someone your age."
Harry's eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he scowled heavily at Sirius.
Sirius looked at him innocently, "What?" He asked defensively.
"You're supposed to be disapproving." Harry said simply.
Sirius was taken aback, "Really, who says?" He asked, curious in spite of himself.
"Jon." Harry said softly, "He said that parents don't like their kids going out too young." He was looking at the floor.
Sirius broke into a laugh, Harry looked up, confused. "Well that explains it then." Sirius said in between chuckles, "I'm not your parent, I'm a godfather."
Harry rose an eyebrow, mind completely taken off track by the new discovery, "they aren't?" He questioned, frowning.
"Of course not, parents are stiff, strict people who stop all the fun, godfathers sneak in during the night and take their godchild partying without the parents' knowledge." Sirius deadpanned.
"Oh." Harry's face cleared and he ran a hand through his forelock. "But Pa'foo, what can I do? I can't just go up to her and tell her." He wailed plaintively.
Sirius's mien became positively devilish. "I have a plan." He whispered conspiringly.
By the time night fell, Harry had promised Sirius that he, Harry Potter, would at least kiss Cat's cheek on the night of the festival.
End Flashback
--
"Of course you can." Sirius exclaimed, "It's just a kiss on the cheek! If it all goes wrong you can just say it was congratulations for performing well or something."
Harry's face still looked desperate, "But it won't be." He cried.
Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I know, Harry, but you say that so that you don't get embarrassed if she doesn't like you."
--
Color. Music. Dance. Sound. Drums. A swirling fall of crimson cloth, a whirling dancer, a parade of giants on stilts waltzing past. Women and men dancing as if possessed. High priestesses in wide hoop-dresses twirling elegantly, throwing flowers out to the crowd.
The festival was well into its first night, and the time was endless, there was no thinking, no human faults, no inhibitions. It was just the music and the soul, laid bare for all the heavens to see.
This was the festival of Brazil.
And in the midst of the intoxicating chaos stood a small, dark haired boy with a bright lightning scar standing out against the sudden pallor of his usually tanned skin. Everything seemed to slow to him, the dancers, the music, the drums reduced to a rhythmic beat somewhere in the background of his mind.
And then he leaned forwards, towards the red-head whom he had called out to only moments before, when the world had still seemed itself.
Her mouth moved and her whisper echoed in his ears; "Harry?"
Then his lips brushed against her cheek for the briefest of moments, and the world returned to normal speed.
He straightened awkwardly, looking at the ground, a deep blush spreading high across his cheeks, too scared to look up at her.
Moments passed, in which dancers and musicians swirled passed them, jostling and pushing them along. Harry stumbled, and involuntarily looked up.
He didn't know later why he had said it. Perhaps it had been her eyes, her face, the music, something but the moment he looked up at her, the words escaped his lips.
"I love you."
He heard her sharp intake of breath, and mentally kicked himself, why had he said that? Why?!
He started when she kissed him back, chastely pressing her lips to his for a moment.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, then breathlessly replied, "Me too."
In that moment, the exhilaration that flooded his body was so strong, he gasped.
Little did he know, in that perfect minute, that the very next day, his world would be torn out from beneath him once again.
--------------
--
That night, the brazilian man who was Harry Potter's music instructor would read the next morning's paper, fresh from the press.
And he would read the article. He would see the photograph. And he would dial the hotline to report that he had seen a mass-murderer.
-------- --
A/N Whew! Sorry about the long wait guys, it's been a hectic few weeks. Anyway, a bit of fluff in this chapter, and I think I'll have to bump the rating up again for implications. sigh.
Thanks to all the kind people with all the wonderful reviews. I am so not sure about this chapter, it, like, achieves nothing. Ah well, more on the plots next chapter, I hope...
If you choose to review (note, no charges apply for reviews) any suggestions, constructive criticism, or ideas are welcomed, for though I do have a plot (one which is being tweaked constantly) I love it when people give me comments.
Anyhow, I swear that I will write replies to reviews, but currently my access to the internet is extremely limited, especially with my laptop, Bartimaeus, incapacitated.
Luv ya all,
Rue D.