Diamonds and Guns
Every last soul must pay the last toll
In the dice game of life, who gets the last roll?
Is it the one with the suit? The one with the sack?
The one who hides behind his fuckin' gun and his badge?
Negative outlook? Well that's how I'm livin'
And like he said, it's a wicked world we live in
It's a wicked world we live in
"Just like that," Vala repeated unbelieving. "What about an appeal?"
"There'll be one, but it doesn' matter," Hagrid replied, his eyes turning to Buckbeak. "Beaky's gentle as a lamb... How could this happen?" The animal looked up, blinked, and resumed its dinner.
Hagrid was doing better now that Vala had taken his tankard away and made him a cup of tea, but he still seemed to be hallucinating. She stared at the long-taloned, sharp-beaked creature. Gentle as a lamb?
"Woul'nt hurt anyone…"
"Why do you think he attacked Draco?" she asked carefully.
"Not listenin'… There delicate creatures, they are… Insult 'em and they attack."
She nodded knowingly. "And his father took immediate action?"
"Jus' about. Can't blame 'im… Jus' wish it di'nt hafta be this way." He blew his nose into a grand, multi-colored handkerchief with dark smudges and unraveling strings. "There's still an appeal," he said hopefully.
"Yes," she agreed. "And the executioner is coming as well?"
He nodded, rubbing his nose with the tablecloth-sized handkerchief.
"Hmm…" she frowned. "That doesn't seem quite right... And Lucius Malfoy pressed the charges?"
He nodded again, dabbing his eyes.
She stared at the beast. It's ugly and I can't understand why a full-grown man would love one, she thought, but in it's own, it's almost beautiful. Almost innocent, really. Curse a dragon for burning down a house and a cat for scratching the furniture… whatever the offense, they're only animals and they're only acting upon their instincts. Why, I've seen men with worse intentions get away with greater crimes.
"Well then," she stood up, "I wish you the best of luck with the appeal, and I hope to see you again." She stopped at the door, and added as an afterthought, "Who knows, maybe as soon as a few days time." And left.
The visit had gone unnoticed by all except those who were present, and with the disappearance of Buckbeak, he would swear she was an angel in disguise.
~+~+~+~
Buckbeak scratched anxiously at the ground. To any average wizard he was just another big, ferocious beast. He wasn't. He was impatient, and he wanted to know why he was tied to the bloody fence post. He dug at a worm with his beak. Why had his master been acting so oddly? He loved the half-giant, but he was growing restless of the constant sniffling and kisses on his forehead.
"It'll be a'right," the man had said several times. Buckbeak didn't know what that meant, but he did know that everything was far from right. For instance, why was he away from all his friends? Why were they in a pen somewhere while he stayed tied to this fence post?
He ate the worm and stared at the approaching men. Now what do they want? The atmosphere grew thicker, Hagrid came from his dwelling, and Buckbeak sensed the oncoming tears. If he were any other creature, a human or a dog, he would have sighed at that exact moment, but being nothing more than a Hippogriff, he resorted to smashing a rather large pumpkin.
~+~+~+~
Vala sipped her wine in a deep gloom. Nothing short of seducing Lucius could save Hagrid's Hippogriff. It was a shame, but why did she care? It wasn't her problem. Besides, she was no temptress. What could she have done?
Because he's helpless and the Malfoys are getting the best of him, she reminded herself. It happens too often, and it has to be put to an end.
Saxon was beside him in joy. She could see the glee and malicious in his eyes, even from her position from across the room.
She stared at Saxon then directed her gaze at the young witch flirtatiously touching his hand and suppressing light giggles. She frowned. Like water in a burning pot, the water as dissolved in a thin mist, but he was still her husband.
The witch licked the rim of her glass, and stroked Saxon's hand. She leaned in and blew into his ear. Strands of raven hair quivered in her whispers. His lips drew back into a thin smirk.
She set down her glass with a clink of glass on wood and the narrowing of her eyes. She fingered the concealed wand. A Hippogriff would not be the only one to die at the hands of a Malfoy.
~+~+~+~
The plan was set, and all Sirius had to do was wait. Crookshanks and he had discussed it nights earlier. Discussed is a bit generous. They'd found a way to communicate, but it was more commanding. Sirius told Crookshanks what he wanted and expected it to be followed through. The cat didn't always succeed, but it always returned.
Crookshanks was a cat, and frankly he could care less about the poor, sodden story of a convict. But Black intrigued him. Black was a human in a dog's body, and though he'd seen similar things before, Black was different.
He couldn't always put his paw on what set Black apart, but that something led to a strong satisfaction of presence and thick admiration for the wrongly accused man-dog.
Crookshanks set out. A strong scent and high-pitched squeaking led the way. The use of an Invisibility Cloak couldn't hide those features. There was a rustling of cloaks, and then the rat shot out from under the cloak. Crookshanks pounced after him, and a lanky boy chased after the two of them.
~+~+~+~
Vala stood up, crossed the room, and sat down beside Saxon. In Malfoy fashion, her lips drew back to reveal her white teeth, and curved in a frighteningly friendly smile.
The witch, who attached her cigarette to a long, thin holder, let it dangle. The revelation of fear only lasted a moment, and she pressed the end of the holder to her lips, sucking the nicotine through the thin cylinder.
"How delightful," Vala complimented through crisp lips, "That my dear husband gets on so well with the ladies." She extended a hand in horrifying pleasantness, "And who might you be, my dear? Besides ten years my junior, I mean."
The witch rose her chin haughtily and managed to shake Vala's hand without digging her long, sharp nails into her pale hand. "The name, I'm sure you've heard before, would be Gale Solitaire."
"Ah, Solitaire, yes I believe I've heard the word before," she responded. She leaned forward. "But still, I must admit I'm curious," she began in a friendly whisper, "Is it really that lonely of a life that you must resort to flirting with married men?"
"That is enough-" Saxon tried to interrupt.
She waved a hand nonchalantly. "No, no, let the girl answer for herself."
Gale stared. She was unsure of herself, and she let it show. Fool, Vala insulted silently, never show your true emotions. She recovered wonderfully. "Why, I simply thought he might enjoy the splendor of one night with a woman who knows how to use her body," she countered. "How knows, perhaps I could even produce him an heir." She leaned forward as well, "A simple battle you've been losing for years."
Some guests shuffled closer, sipping their wine and shooting glances at the pair. Those were Malfoy guests for you. They could sense rising tension through five cement walls.
"Ladies," Saxon tried to save desperately. A fight was not in his intentions tonight.
"With the presence of heavy practice, I'm sure you're a loose breeding ground for every man and his brother!" Vala snapped, springing to her feet and finally pulling out her wand. She waved it at the witch. "Come on then, to your feet, wench!"
~+~+~+~
Ron pounced, and caught the rat. Soon after, the cat leapt unto him, scratching for the rat, and hissing dramatically.
It was only a matter of time. The soft thud of heavy paws was heard. The three confused, and slightly eccentric, children looked up. One with particular scruffy black hair reached for his wand, but the force of two front paws hitting his chest sent him over backwards. Yellowed, inch-long teeth showed themselves, and thick breath rolled over his face. It only lasted a moment, for a second later the dog rolled off of Harry, and rounded for another attack. Only this one was directed at a new victim.
Ron stared wild-eyed at the dog, and he attempted to shield his face. The dog's jaws clamped over Ron's arm and began pulling him to the trapdoor under the Whomping Willow.