Chapter 3 - Bound
This chapter is dedicated to Rynne Lupin, the sweetest person on earth who helped me by betaing this.
The Family Hall was the largest room there was in the palace. There were big, fluffy cushions placed all over the floors near the walls for the guests to sit on, leaving an empty space in the middle, where the entertainers performed every night. The ceiling rose like a dome around them, beautiful in its reflection of the night sky. In the daytime, however, the Family Hall was a stunning sight to behold, as the sunlight seeped through the glass and threw everything into brilliant gold.
But at night, every night, the royals blended into the seductive shadows of the room and watched the entertainment.
Sirius was sitting in a far away corner by himself, glaring threateningly at any dancers that dared to approach him. He was not in a good mood tonight, and it was obvious to watching eyes.
It came as a surprise, then, when his cousin, Bellatrix, swayed over to him, her dress slipping down her shoulders sloppily. Sirius looked on in disgust as she leaned down and breathed into his ear, smelling heavily of alcohol and perfume, "Why are you sitting here all alone tonight, cousin?" She smiled, red lips glinting harshly under the glowing light.
Her hand fell on his shoulder, and Sirius twitched. "Why don't you join me tonight? You don't seem very interested in the foreign dancers Regulus brought back from his trip." Her voice was raspy, seductive, and full of promises, which only succeeded in bringing Sirius more annoyance. Her body fell forward, revealing the curves of her breasts under the soft light. If it had been any other time, if he were drunk, or plain bored, Sirius would have accepted the invitation readily.
Tonight, however, there was only one thought in his mind.
Impatiently Sirius pushed her aside, abruptly and none too gently. He turned to Bellatrix, who looked at him in offense, and said, "You should know when you are not welcomed, cousin. Leave now before I lose my temper." And without another glance, Sirius returned to his drink, dark eyes gazing into the distance, not really seeing the dancers swaying, the veils upon their bodies flying away gently, revealing ivory, soft flesh to the eyes. Sirius watched as his brother, Regulus, laughed and grabbed a young woman, disappearing into the night.
Sirius had had about enough. He stood, glancing at the king, who was smiling and eating fruits being fed him by young and willing women. Sirius' face scrunched up in utter disgust, and, unable to stand another minute in this room, he stood up and left.
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The breeze was chilly, tousling his hair and blowing them away from his sharp, handsome face when he turned to the direction of the wind. As Sirius stood there, looking up into the moonlit sky, he thought back of the boy he found in the dungeon, bleeding and broken, like a fragile doll torn apart by brutal thoughtlessness. It was a miracle he was still breathing when James and Sirius found him.
When Sirius caught sight of the young slave, he had felt a surge of uncontrollable anger rising inside him, a feeling unknown to anything he had ever experienced before. It had consumed him and blotted out all his reasons and thoughts, so that before Sirius knew it, the warden lay dead at his feet, head rolling across the floor in a trail of blood.
Sirius closed his eyes, letting the wind whip across his strong cheekbones. It was no loss to the palace, killing the warden. There were plenty more, better and wiser than him, to serve the Blacks for years to come. The hollow thought etched itself in his mind like an ugly brand, a reminder of just exactly who he was: a monster.
"I thought I'd find you here," a soft, amused voice spoke up, bringing Sirius out of his reverie.
Sirius was about to scream at the intruder when he realized who it was. Eyes softening slightly, Sirius acknowledged, "Dumbledore."
An old man, wearing a dark purple robe with matching colored hat, smiled kindly at him, his long, white beard standing starkly against the black background. Dumbledore was the palace's wizard, the only person who was able to work magic and keep Gryffindor informed of threats. He was gentle and kind, and he was the only person Sirius truly, honestly respected, not out of formality but genuine feeling.
Dumbledore approached him, his wizard's staff making crisp sounds as it clapped against the marble floor. He stopped next to Sirius, watching the river washing back and forth against the palace's wall. "Something is troubling you, my dear child," Dumbledore stated, his voice held none of curiosity nor demand, just a simple fact.
"I am fine," Sirius lied, even though he knew Dumbledore could see right through him, and indeed, he did.
Chuckling softly, Dumbledore replied, "Sometimes it is better to let it out instead of keeping your thoughts inside."
Sirius was silent, his eyes straying to the pale moon, which was a sickly color of white that glowed dimly in the endless darkness. Finally he answered, "Do you not know of my trouble, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "I have a thought or two, yes," he said.
"Then why do you ask?" Sirius said, frustration creeping into his voice.
"A man must admit his own fears and worries before he can overcome them," Dumbledore said, his wise words piercing right through Sirius' mind.
"I have no fear!" Sirius snarled. "I am the Prince and Heir of Gryffindor. I know not the meaning of the very word."
Dumbledore shook his head, almost sadly. "Perhaps so, but it is your own title that brings you much trouble. It is your own blood that makes you doubt your worth, and your family that is shaping you into believing you are who you are not, caging you here, when your heart calls for freedom." Dumbledore turned to Sirius, his sharp eyes peering into the prince's very soul. "Tell me, my child, is that not what you think of everyday? Is that not what you are trying to live up to, knowing that it is not who you are?"
Sirius' eyes flashed, and with a quick motion whipped out his sword, a weapon he carried around almost all the time. "You lie, old man!" Sirius hissed, the tip of his sword inches away from the wizard's neck. "I am Sirius Black, the God's Chosen and Heir to the Black's line. I shall one day rule this kingdom like my father, and his father had, and all the Blacks before them!"
Dumbledore did not smile his knowing smile, nor did he show any sign of emotion. Instead, he merely said, "You are destined to be king, but one of honor and greatness, not of fear and violence." Before Sirius could reply, Dumbledore spun around and left, his feet light upon the floor, his staff no longer in his hand, but had mysteriously disappeared.
James came into view then just as Dumbledore turned the corner. Frowning, James walked toward his friend, who was breathing harshly, his face flushed in disbelief. "The wizard spoke with you," he said with interest. "What did you two talk of?"
Sirius did not answer him, but returned the sword back to its sheath and took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. "It is none of your concern, James," Sirius said dismissively, and then added when a thought occurred to him. "How does the boy fare?"
James smiled then. "He is healing quite nicely. The healer of my household has affirmed that he will be waking soon..."
"And what of his wounds? Will they leave scars?" Sirius was struck with anger when he thought of the milky skin being marred by hideous marks.
James' eyes gleamed knowingly. "Not a scar will be visible, although..." James frowned, remembering the sight that he had seen while the healer was attending to the stranger.
"What is it?" Sirius asked impatiently.
"His flesh was already marked with old wounds, already faded into scars, though they are not easily seen, because the scars are quite small and pale," James was saddened as he recalled the state the boy's body was in. "I wonder who could have done it to him. He did not seem like a slave to me, but perhaps I am wrong."
Sirius' hands shook as they curled into fists, and, surprised at his own reaction, he forced himself to calm down and looked back at James. "When will he awaken?"
"Considering his current state, I'd say by tomorrow afternoon."
Sirius almost smiled then. Almost. "I shall be visiting your home tomorrow afternoon. For now, good night," he said, his face masked with a formal look.
James grinned and bowed to him. "A thousand good nights to you, my prince. I look forward to welcome you to my humble abode tomorrow," he said, mockingly.
Sirius cracked a smile, and left.
James watched him until he was out of sight, and then looked down at the river. "By the Hogwarts River, Mother of our land, please let him be saved from his own family," he whispered, and went back to his own place with a heavy heart.
The wind picked up, and the river growled violently, slapping against the stone wall. The clouds shifted, hiding the moon, and then, the rain started to pour.
-
Remus gazed at the blue, floating ball, transfixed. As always, it led him to the hall made of gold and rubies, glimmering in dangerous beauty.
The boy was still there, his face in his hands, and when Remus came closer, the boy looked up. It was the prince.
"What are you doing?" the same words escaped his lips as his hand rose to touch the other's cheek.
"I'm thinking," he replied, grasping Remus' hand in his cold one. "Who are you?"
Remus heard the unfamiliar question, because the dream boy had never asked who he was. It came as a surprise when Remus found himself answering, "I'm here to help you."
"You are my savior, then," he said, his voice full of innocent wonderment. "The one in the legend, who comes to chase away the Prince's troubles and fears and makes him see where he truly stands." He tilted his face up, blue eyes clearer than ever. "Are you him?"
Remus couldn't think, his eyes only for the one sitting in front of him. "Yes," he murmured, eyes closing shut. "Yes, I am."
And then this time in his dream, even more different than any other before, Remus felt soft lips falling upon his.
Remus woke up to fingers playing with his hair tenderly, winding through the strands and letting them falling away before starting all over again. With a pleasant sigh, he opened his eyes.
The vision of the boy in his dream shaped itself in front of his blurry eyes, and for a moment he thought he was still dreaming. But then the haziness vanished, leaving the path of confusion to unravel before his vision at seeing the beautiful place and an even more beautiful stranger...
The one from his dreams.
Remus almost yelled in shock, but sharp pain tore through him. With a jolt he realized that his throat was dry and his body hurt horribly. Memories rushed back to his mind, and all at once he remembered that this was not the orphanage. Weakly he tried to push himself up.
"Lay down, fool," a soft voice commanded. "You'll hurt yourself if you move around too much."
Remus squinted his eyes, and then closed them, tears prickling behind his eyes at the dull pain. "Where..." he rasped, and could speak no more.
"You're at the household of Lord Potter," a voice, different and gentler, spoke up. However, Remus couldn't bring himself to look and see who it was.
A moment later cool liquid was poured down between his dry lips, and gratefully Remus swallowed, coughing slightly. After a while his eyes fluttered open, and in front of him stood the two men he'd seen yesterday, glorious in their royal clothes.
"How are you feeling?" the man who had just spoken asked, smiling.
"Fine," Remus croaked, trying to sit up. The same person came and helped him up. "Who are you?"
"My name is James Potter," he chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling. "And this is our prince, Sirius Black. Forgive us for not introducing ourselves properly."
Sirius sneered and turned away, cheeks rising to a light pink color. Remus' gaze lingered on him for a moment, full of wonder and curiosity, and then he looked back at James. "You're..." he said, remembering James as the person that held him back yesterday.
A blast of fear held him still, and Remus wondered what they would do to him, what they already had done while he was unconscious. Instinctively Remus gripped the sheets covering his body tighter.
"It's quite alright," James assured him, seeing the obvious distrust and fright in those impossibly golden eyes. "We will not hurt you, just... don't scream murder or try to assassinate us, hm?"
Remus stared at James and smiled slightly, nodding.
James sat down on the bed next to Remus and clapped his hands. Almost instantly a girl came in, carrying a tray of food. She set it down on the bedside table next to the bed, bowed to Sirius and James, then left. Remus watched her go and wondered who she was.
"Hungry?" James asked, waving at the food. It was at that moment that Remus realized he was starving, but he only looked at the food with uncertainty and did not touch it.
Sirius' eyes were on Remus, unreadable and dark. "There's nothing to fear. Even if there were poison in the dishes, it wouldn't matter. I could kill you with a wave of my hand," he said coldly, startling Remus.
James gave the prince a frown. "Our prince is a little... impatient when it comes to dealing with people. Please excuse him," James said to his guest, ignoring the bristle coming from Sirius.
"It's okay," Remus said softly, feeling out of place. Prince? Where was he? Daring a glance at James, he inquired, "Where am I? How did I get here?"
James cast Sirius a glance, which the prince replied to with a shrug. Gently James answered him, "You are in the palace of the Gryffindor Kingdom." Pausing slightly, James continued, "And where are you from?"
Remus hesitated. What should he tell them? That he was not from this world? Would they think he was insane if he told them the truth? "I- I'm not sure..." Remus replied, fidgeting with the seams of the sheet.
James was doubtful by Remus' words, but did not push. "What is your name?" It surprised James that he did not remember to ask this boy his name earlier before.
"It's Remus..." he said, deciding to keep his last name away from them. What was the point in telling them, anyway? He had no family, and therefore his last name did not matter. He had never exactly acknowledged it. He didn't want to, for it reminded him too much of his abandonment and a life that could have been.
Remus... The name echoed in Sirius' head sweetly. A small tingling feeling crept up his arms and sent a quiet shiver up his body.
"Well, Remus, go ahead and eat, then, I'll see you later," James said finally, standing up. Somehow he had a feeling that Sirius wanted to have some time alone with this foreign boy.
"Wait..." Remus called out, pausing James in his steps. "How long have I been unconscious?"
"About a day or so," James told him, and with another smile, he left.
The door closed with a soundly click, indicating that Remus was alone here... with the unpredictable prince. Remus felt awkward, remembering the events yesterday; of his unclothed state, of the killing...
Speaking of being unclothed, Remus thought, turning red, he was currently quite naked. Why must I always end up like this? Remus mourned miserably. What if Sirius - was that his name? - decided to jump on him like yesterday?
But he did not do anything to you, he silently reminded himself. Feeling self-conscious, Remus pulled the sheets up his body even more, and looked at anywhere but the other.
"Who are you?"
Remus gave a start, head jerking towards the voice. Sirius was staring at him with dark, dark eyes. The stare was blank, and yet, within its depths it held a fierce, stubborn fire of pride that was undeniable. Remus shuddered. "I told you, my name is Re-"
He was cut off, however, when Sirius appeared before him in a blink. "Do not lie to me," he said roughly. "Are you a spy from one of our enemies?"
Remus' eyes went wide. "No, I'm not," a flash of agonizing pain came to his mind, reminding him of the events that had occurred in the dungeon. No, he wouldn't...
"Please," he whispered fearfully, "don't hurt me. I'm telling you the truth, I'm not a spy, I don't know how I got here, I just..."
Remus was startled into silence when a cool hand rose to brush across his cheek gently. Instinctively he flinched away, but the touch was so soothing, so tender... No one had ever touched me like this before. A thumb swept across his cheekbone, then fingers slipped into the soft hair, tilting his head up. Remus gazed into those eyes, an unknown feeling working itself inside him. There was no anger or violence or haughtiness in those amazingly blue eyes, just a silent pain that was and still being deprived of knowledge for a long time. It hurt Remus, looking at them like that.
"I won't hurt you," Sirius said simply, and for some reason, Remus believed him.
Sirius, on the other hand, felt light-headed, looking at Remus. There was just something so clear, so lovable, so... sad about him that it made Sirius want to gather him up into his arms and chase away the pain. It scared Sirius, thinking like that. Not once in his life did he ever think of another person with such tenderness, and definitely not to a stranger did he ever feel the slightest care toward.
Sirius' eyes fell to those timid, flushed lips, inviting and oh so kissable. An unsuppressed, arousing passion rose in him, and he leaned down, watching, always watching, as the golden depths disappeared behind pale eyelids.
Their lips were only millimeters apart now, if he would just let himself...
Abruptly Sirius' hand retreated, and Remus' eyes snapped open, bewildered.
Sirius staggered backwards, and, feeling his control slipping away, he turned and exited the room, leaving Remus staring after him in confusion.
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To Be Continued...