Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.
A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. I got more for the last chapter than I had for the others all put together . . . I think, so thank you again.
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Chapter Five: Dates are hazardous things
Sirius lounged on James' sofa, a bottle of Firewhiskey in hand. This bottle had been his only companion (besides the Potter's themselves) for the passed three days. There was something to be said for remaining drunk for 72 hours, and that wasn't a whole lot. But Sirius was damned proud of himself nonetheless. He'd topped his previous record of a day and a half, where he'd imbibed enough alcohol to almost miss James' wedding the day after his Bachelor party. He chuckled to himself, remembering that particular occasion. He'd had the best fun, but James, poor attached sod that he was, hadn't been able to, what with him marrying Lily the day after and all that.
Sirius scowled at the reminder of marriage and tipped the bottle to his lips for the hundred and seventh time that day, relishing the familiar burning liquid sliding down his throat. Of course it only stung a little now, his throat having gone numb hours ago from the potent drink.
He would have to think about her.
But then, he'd thought of her almost non-stop for three days, which was why he'd attacked the bottle as soon as he'd left that blasted Ministry conference. And it certainly didn't help that it was one of those self-filling bottles, rendering him incapable of ever getting off his arse to actually sober up.
He snorted at the thought of sobering up. No, if he sobered up that meant he'd have to be serious again, and he didn't think he could handle that, not when all he'd think about was his bloody hell of an upcoming marriage. Not to mention all the outings he'd had to plan with the Le Creux's and his mother before that actually happened. They'd suggested three dates, but Sirius had nipped that in the bud quickly enough. He hadn't thought he could handle three outings with her, alone, without sneaking her off behind a garden statue and. . . Two was the limit, and that was that!
He groaned now, thinking of that. He'd tortured himself the passed three days. Tortured himself to the point where he'd had to get foxed to stop the images of them both in his bed from coming to the forefront. Obviously, he wasn't foxed enough if he was thinking about that again.
The amber liquid in the bottle sloshed once more as Sirius held it to his lips, this time taking a longer swallow.
And that was how Lily found him. She halted in the threshold, Harry in her arms, took one glance at him and said: "You look horrible!"
He arched a black brow. "You've only just noticed?"
She stiffened and pursed her lips. "You needn't get nasty with me, Sirius. You put yourself in this situation and now you have to cope with it!"
"More's the pity."
"What was that?"
"Nothing." He took the opportunity to slide his gaze over her. She wore emerald robes that nicely set off her eyes. "Where are you off to in those fancy togs? And why isn't Harry dressed similarly?"
He failed to note the suspicious tone his voice had taken, but Lily did. She smiled. "James and I are going spying for Dumbledore, remember? We'll be back before tonight, so you needn't look as though your life has ended. You love babysitting Harry." She ignored the snort that came from the couch. "And don't forget to sober up before then as well. Remember you have that date with Antoinette."
"Antoinette?" he repeated slowly. "Since when did she become so familiar? Oh never mind, she obviously doesn't realise you're muggleborn. That'll change soon you know, and she won't want to be your friend then."
Lily sighed. "You're determined to be exasperating aren't you?" Her eyes turned into emerald fire, and Sirius barely stopped himself from flinching. "I still can't believe you treated her like that! That wasn't you at all! And you're still determined to hate her, aren't you, even though you've only just met her?" At his mulish expression, she huffed, "I can see I'll be getting nowhere with you tonight. She's really a delightful girl, Sirius—"
"And you know this how?" he interceded. "You only met her for those couple of minutes in front of the bathroom, and James told me how her family stared at Remus when my, mother, informed them he was a werewolf."
"Oh he did, did he?" Her fist clenched. "Well dear old James can spend tonight on the living room rug!"
"Bloody hell!" came the disgruntled grumble before James stepped into the room, looking sour. "Thanks a lot for ratting on me, Padfoot!"
Sirius grinned. "You don't need to thank me, you have Peter for that."
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're quite the comedian this fine noon. That's good, you can entertain Harry." He plucked the baby from Lily's arms, walked over to the couch, and dumped him on Sirius stomach.
He ooffed. "Damn it, James! I'm not a blasted cot!"
"No, you're a blasted godfather. And it's a godfather's duty to take care of his godson. Isn't that right, baby?"
Harry, at suddenly finding himself sitting on his godfather's quite comfortable stomach, began thumping his chest with his little fist. "Pad Pad Pad!"
"What in Merlin's Devil Beard!" James roared, but Sirius was surprised himself at hearing the baby gurgle that. James rounded on his wife. "When did he start speaking his name?"
"I'm not a his," Sirius said, now quite delighted with the proceedings.
James only took a moment to glower at him, and the fact that he was now sitting up and holding Harry in his lap, before turning back to his wife. "Well?"
"I don't know, just then I suppose." She rang her hands at his scowl. "I'm so sorry, James. But he'll start calling you Dada soon. You'll see."
"More like he'll start calling me Dada soon." Sirius skimmed his lips over Harry's soft cheek. "Uh-huh, James, you can't murder me with your son in my lap." He grinned when his friend's scowl turned darker.
"Then I'll just have to get him out of your lap," James returned, tightly.
Lily became alarmed at seeing her husband actually start to stretch his arms out. She stepped in front of him and the couch, effectively cutting off his view of Sirius. "You're being ridiculous, James. You can't really mean to fight him over that?"
"No? We've fought over less before."
"True," Sirius said thoughtfully.
"Would you shut up, you idiot!" Lily spat. "I'm trying to help y—!"
James' hard kiss cut off the rest of what she was going to say.
Sirius snorted in disgust as her arms instantly scooped about his neck. Sirius knew this tactic well, as he'd often used it himself. If the woman was saying something you didn't want to hear, distract her until she forgot what she'd wanted to tell you. Still James was taking a bit bloody long wasn't he? And Lily was becoming very accommodating, deporting soft moans every now and then. When James' hand felt its way down to her posterior, cupped it, pressed it against him, and when he groaned, loudly, Sirius drawled, "I'd like to keep the poison I drunk down a bit longer, and I'm sure Harry has already had an eyeful, so if you two wouldn't mind . . .?"
This snapped Lily out of her eurohpic state, but James didn't have any such shame. He groaned, this time in annoyance. "Thanks again, Sirius."
Lily flamed scarlet at seeing that Harry really had witnessed everything sitting in his godfather's lap and staring unblinkingly. She bent down and kissed him to hide her red face. Sirius found it amusing that she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Are we going now or not, James?"
"Yes whatever," he grumbled. "Look after my son, Padfoot."
"You know I will," Sirius said softly.
With a wink at his best friend, and a pat to his wife's bottom, (she smacked his arm for that impertinence) James and Lily stepped over to the fireplace. Seconds later they were gone.
Sirius looked down at the Firewhiskey bottle in his right hand, then Harry. The bottle or Harry? There wasn't really much of a choice. The babe looked up at him. "What say we have a bath, Harry? Or a shower, better yet! You ever had a shower, baby?"
"Gea!" Harry said.
Sirius had no idea what the hell a "Gea" was, but he nodded nonetheless. "Yes, I agree. Showers are much faster. Let's get you undressed."
Twenty minutes later Sirius was standing under the warm spray in the shower, naked, holding Harry in arms, also naked, and blowing bubbles with the shampoo that had managed to stream from his hair, down his face, and into his mouth. Harry was popping them with his tiny finger. Every so often Sirius would pretend to bite the finger, sending the baby into peals of high-pitched laughter.
He grinned and pressed Harry into his chest. How he loved this little boy. Alarmingly so. Harry was James and Lily's son, but he was Sirius' baby. At least that was how Sirius looked at it.
He sighed low and deep. "What am I going to do, Harry? She'll never give me babies like you. Not that I want her to, mind you. And not that any baby could ever come close to you," he amended when Harry looked up at him sleepily. "I suppose you better have your afternoon nap then, eh? Let's get you out."
He rinsed off his hair, closed off the water valves and, tucking a large brown hand under Harry's soft bottom, stepped with him out of the stall. "Now where in Merlin did I put that towel?" Sirius took the time to scan the bathroom, but besides finding a small hand towel that wouldn't even cover his privates let alone both him and Harry, there was nothing. "We'll just have to make a run for it I guess." Not that Sirius would. He couldn't risk slipping on the tiles with Harry in his arms.
He stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the hallway and into his room. "Ah look, Harry, the towel was on my bed the whole while." But before he could pick it up and wrap them both in it the long mirror opposite the other side of the bed caught his attention. The first thing Sirius thought was that his skin was very dark compared to Harry's pale baby skin. He was also very big compared to Harry, with the babe only taking up not even a quarter of Sirius' chest. His muscled arm spanned Harry's back completely.
The baby was staring into the mirror also, with half-lidded eyes, out from which peeked his emerald glory. He'd stuffed almost his entire hand into his mouth and Sirius thought that if he died tomorrow he'd be content. Never had he thought that he could love this boy any more than he already did. This picture proved him wrong.
He felt Harry shiver slightly from the cool air, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Bloody hell! Here he was getting sentimental, and poor Harry was shivering to death. He quickly picked up the towel and snuggled them both in it. Briskly, but gently, he rubbed the baby down, and then himself.
After putting on his nappy, securing the last button on his little pyjamas, and sliding on some socks, Sirius set about dressing himself for his date that night. He found a pair of black robes that he thought rather drab, and rather out of date, but he didn't want it to seem like he wished to impress her so he dressed in those.
When he went back to the bed to pick Harry up and take him to his room, he stilled again at the picture. Harry was lying on his tummy and playing with the wet purple towel, which he'd become tangled in. Sirius smiled, suddenly marvelling that Harry had made him achieve what he'd been trying to do for the passed three days — forget Antoinette and his upcoming marriage. It seemed babies were a far better cure than Firewhiskey.
Gently removing the towel from Harry's mouth he lifted him up and walked out of the room. Half an hour later Harry was asleep and Sirius was back on the sofa downstairs, awaiting Lily and James. Of course they probably wouldn't come for another couple of hours, but Sirius had nothing better to do. The Firewhiskey bottle sat on the coffee table in front, but Sirius hadn't touched it.
It was damned tempting, though.
Not that he would drink it now. He'd gagged down the sobering potion Lily had produced for him a couple of days ago just before he and Harry had taken their shower, so there was no need to undo its effects. Besides, Harry had put him in a mellow mood now, and he didn't need the Firewhiskey anymore.
He needed all his wits anyway to deal with his upcoming, date, with her. He didn't want to be left vulnerable, which being drunk would have done to him.
He raked a hand through his hair and swore softly. It was the typical situation, wasn't it? Desiring what you couldn't have.
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She stood by the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting. Already she'd been propositioned twice. Once by an elderly gentlemen (and she used 'gentlemen' very broadly) who was old enough to be her great-grandfather, and the second by some young pup who could not have been more than ten. He had declared he was in love with her before his grandfather (who was, in fact, the elderly gentlemen) pulled him away, scowling. Afraid of the competition perhaps.
He had yet to show up, but then he was only a few minutes late, nothing to get alarmed about.
They'd arranged to meet at the Leaky Cauldron for dinner, in a private booth of course, so as to keep any prying eyes from staring at them. But Mrs Black had assured Antoinette that they would stare simply because the Black family was rather famous in wizarding circles of certain 'desirable' (meaning purebloods) as well as 'undesirable' (meaning any wizard or witch who had grown up in the wizarding world) distinctions.
He had told her to wait by the bar.
Did not give any specific reason why she should not make her way straight to the private booth. No excuse. No apology for being so rude. No Nothing. Just to wait.
Antoinette suspected, though, (with Mrs Black's clues and Sirius' little confession in the women's bathroom, which she had at her disposal) that he wanted everyone to see them together.
She barely stopped from rolling her eyes just then. Already he was becoming vexing to her nerves, and they weren't even married yet. But then, he'd vexed her nerves ever since she'd first seen him. It was only that now, he vexed them in a completely undesirable way.
That's not entirely true, Toni. You still think he looks rather damned good.
Antoinette groaned. The voice had been her constant companion ever since three days ago when she'd first met Sirius. It was very annoying, very intrusive, and very tempting to listen to. She promptly pushed it to the back of her mind.
"Another Butterbeer, Miss?" Tom, the pub's owner smiled gently at her, still polishing the bar with his dishrag.
Antoinette stared at her empty glass, having no particular desire to drink any more. "No thank you," she told him. She turned her attention back to the innkeeper. He was in his sixties or seventies, still rather young for a wizard. Looking at him now reminded her of what he'd said to her father. "But you can help me with something else."
"Certainly," he replied jovially. "If it's within my power to."
"It has just occurred to me that you must know Sirius Black, or know of him well enough to provide me with a few insipid details. Purely to satisfy my curiosity, of course."
Tom didn't pretend not to know what she was talking about. Her's and Sirius' engagement had become the local gossip in the Leaky Cauldron, especially since her family were boarding there. "Of course," he said, and Antoinette flushed at his tone, because it must have been obvious to him that she was fishing for more than just 'insipid' details. "What would you like to know?"
"Is he always so . . ." she trailed off, not really knowing how to finish. "Well, domineering is the word I suppose I am searching for. And arrogant. Condescending. Derisive. Rude. Cruel—"
"Oh no!" Tom interjected, looking horrified. She started a bit. "Sirius isn't cruel, Miss. Or if he is he doesn't mean to be. He just hates his mother, you see."
She sat up at that. "Well I know that they're estranged, but hating his mother does not constitute hating me. And he does hate me. He more or less told him so."
Tom flustered around a bit. "Well . . . he's a very complicated man, Miss. Very, er . . ."
"Passionate?" Antoinette supplied.
"Exactly!" Tom nodded approvingly. "He's passionate about everything. Never seen no one who's more of a Gryffindor than he!"
She frowned a little. "What is a, a Gryffindor?"
"It's a house. Or a constitution," Tom added, mumbling. "Depending on how you look at it, you see."
Antoinette was even more confused now than she'd been before she asked the question. "A constitution?" she said slowly. "You mean he's in some sort of . . . club?"
Tom snorted. "That'd be about right."
Antoinette pondered over that briefly. Could the club Sirius was in be Tom's round about way of saying her fiancé was a Death Eater? Antoinette shivered. This wasn't the first time she had had such thoughts about him.
She had asked herself countless times why, at his insistence, did they have to pretend to be in love? To put up an act? What was the reason? It couldn't possibly be because he was afraid to humiliate her or his mother. He hated them both, after all. Antoinette had also given this matter a lot of thought, and had come to the conclusion that he must want to impress some very important people. Perhaps secure some high expense work that only employed people of extreme wealth. In other words he needed the money to fund something. And Antoinette was sure his inheritance would go the Dark Lord.
Antoinette had come to this conclusion whilst sitting on a toilet, because after all, there wasn't much to be done in there except think. She'd stiffened with fear, before telling herself she was being irrational. There was no cause for him to harm her. She was a pureblood. She was wealthy. . . She was also loathed by him. What if, three months into their marriage, he grew tired of her and disposed of her in some sly fashion? What if he told everyone that she had died while choking on a bit of egg at breakfast, and that he hadn't been there to rescue her . . . ? Yes, her imagination had been fruitful with all the different ways she'd had him murdering her.
But that night she'd gone to sleep, and when she awoke the next morning she'd laughed. Even if Sirius was in the service of the Dark Lord, there would be absolutely no reason why he should want to murder her. For one, he wouldn't be able to get his money. For another, he'd said it himself — that after the honeymoon she could do whatever she wanted as long as she didn't get in his way. That was fine with her. That worked both ways, and as long as he didn't bring any of his Death Eater friends to the house she could live with being his wife. Besides, he would probably arrange for an annulment after three years anyway. If the union had not been consummated by then he could legally declare their marriage void. And Antoinette was quite sure that Sirius would not be doing any consummating at all, just as she was sure he would annul their marriage at the soonest possible opportunity.
She had felt the teeniest, tiniest most minuscule disappointment at those thoughts.
She could always take a lover, she supposed.
The thought sickened her for some reason.
"And this club?" Antoinette said now, hoping to ferret out something that would at least give some credence to her thoughts. "It wouldn't happen to be . . . illegal, would it?"
Tom stared at her, rag dangling from his fingertips. His boisterous laughter rang out a second later, completely bewildering her. "Oh no, Miss! I think you misunderstood me!" More chuckling. "Gryffindor is one of the four houses over at Hogwarts school. I was in Hufflepuff m'self, but Sirius Black, he was in Gryffindor!"
She understood now that Tom had been making a joke. A flush spread across her cheeks. "I see." How simply embarrassing.
"Now there's no need to feel all ashamed, Miss," Tom said kindly, spotting the blush. "You weren't to know, after all."
"What are the other two houses called?" she asked, simply to change the subject and possibly lessen her embarrassment.
"Well, like I said, there's Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. The loyal and the courageous in that order, respectively." Tom stroked his chin and stared thoughtfully. "The next one is Ravenclaw . . . you'll never find more studious people, I'll tell you. And then there's Slytherin, o'course, mustn't forget Slytherin."
"And what traits does the Slytherin house hold?" Antoinette asked, now quite interested.
"Their fairly ambitious. Always striving for greatness. Rather cunning, too—"
"You forget to mention dark, slimy, creepy, obnoxious, snobby, and full of themselves," a low familiar voice interjected from behind.
Antoinette whirled around. Unfortunately, she didn't take into account that Sirius might have been standing directly behind her.
"OW!" they both yelped.
Her head had collided painfully with his, and was now throbbing. He didn't appear to be fairing any better. "You should bloody well think before you . . . twirl!" he whispered harshly, clutching his temple
She straightened. As if it was her fault! "If you hadn't given me a fright, I would not have . . . twirled!" she whispered back just as harshly.
He pierced her with a velvet gaze. Then he smiled. "Very good, love."
She frowned and looked away, her face flushing a little at the endearment. He hadn't meant it, of course. It was all for show.
Her heart jumped when his cheek brushed hers. "Don't look so angry at me, love, we're attracting attention. Smile . . ." Pleasure sprung into her chest at his light teasing, then immediately plummeted when he added, "if you can."
Despite his harsh words his warm breath tickled her hear and his low voice sent spirals of heat to curl up in her belly. She mentally shook her head. Dieu, but he was dangerous to her senses. She took his advice and smiled up at him. "So, are you going to take me to our booth, darling? I'm rather hungry."
"Ah . . . o-of course." Sirius was still poleaxed by the smile she'd bestowed on him. He hadn't really expected that she'd take his suggestion to heart. As for that 'darling' . . . He frowned mentally. What the hell was wrong with him?
Nodding at Tom he offered Antoinette his hand. She took it gently and stood. They both noticed in that moment, as they stared at their entwined hands, that he dwarfed her. She was tall, yes, but she was very delicate and slender also. His body was twice the size of hers. He cleared his throat and tried to smile. He wasn't sure if he'd accomplished it. "Shall we?"
He led her passed the tables and over to the private booths in the corner. They were made of red velvet padding and were rather ornate, with gilded wood frames crafted around the edges. Aware of the stares of the patrons' pointed at them he sat her down, then let the pads of his fingers play with the curling tendrils of gold-white hair on the base of her neck.
She shivered.
Sirius almost sneered. She abhorred his touch, did she? Just as well, it was going to be easier for him in the long run.
He took the seat opposite.
Antoinette took a moment to calm her heart, which had jump-started when she'd felt his fingers graze her neck, then looked down at her empty plate. Now that they were finally here on this farce of a date she really didn't know what Sirius expected of her. They didn't like each other, so how were they going to spend the next few hours? Were they simply going to eat, or just stare at each other across the table? That seemed an almost . . . stupid, thing to do. Even if a couple were besotted with each other they wouldn't spend hours just staring lovesick-like into each other's eyes, would they. But, what else were they supposed to do? Talk? She almost snorted over that one. She could not imagine having a civil conversation with Sirius at all.
With long tan fingers he took up the napkin next to his plate, folded it in half three times, then placed it back on the table. He looked up at her and she almost forgot to breathe. He was devastating her senses by his mere presence, simply by sitting there. Of course the robes he wore left much to be desired, but that paled in comparison to the specimen in them. He was such a beautiful man . . . on the outside. She would have to remind herself of that. She almost jumped when he spoke. "Have you met my mother at all since the Ministry conference?"
He cleared her throat delicately. "Once."
He smiled wryly. "Heard stories about me, have you?"
"Actually, no. Whenever I wish to find something out Mrs Black almost immediately changes the subject, usually to the weather; that, or she tells me to drop the subject completely. She does not even seem to care that she isn't being very subtle. It's all very curious."
"I bet." His mother never was one for subtlety. Screaming was more up her alley. But he was more intrigued by the fact that she'd wanted to find stuff out about him.
"I would think," she continued, staring just below his eyes, "that a pureblood raised witch would have better control over her manners than that."
Sirius hated his mother so he had to agree, but Antoinette's imperious tone and imperious words—implying that only purebloods had manners—were still rubbing him raw. "If my mother hates you you'll never have to beat about the bush to find out, she'll tell you."
"Yes, it's rather refreshing."
Sirius was surprised, though he didn't look it. "You don't get along then?"
She blinked. "Oh I did not mean to imply that, merely that I have observed her with those she does . . . dislike."
"And you find that . . . 'refreshing'?"
She stiffened at his sneering tone. Her lips pursed. "At times."
He grunted. She would think that calling muggleborns nasty names and sneering at them was 'refreshing.' She probably got along with his mother like a house on bloody fire. Merlin! His skin was crawling, he needed a drink, and he couldn't get over what a pretty parcel she made sitting amidst a red backdrop with her golden robes and white-gold hair.
Her crystal blue eyes dropped to her plate when he continued to stare at her.
He gritted his teeth. "Smile, Antoinette. Or better yet, give me your hand."
She blinked. "Wha—"
Sirius didn't wait for her consent but reached over and pried her fingers from around the napkin she was shredding, wrapped his own around them, then drew them back towards himself until their hands lay clasped together in the middle of the table. Her pulse fluttered under his thumb and he almost frowned. What in Merlin's name did she have to be frightened of? It wasn't like he was going to eat her fingers, for God's sake.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Quite."
Sirius restrained from lifting a brow at her bland tone. Never once did she show emotion. Miss prim and proper, he thought sourly. "The menu's right there in front of the vase, you can choose whatever you like."
Her delicately boned hand — the one he wasn't holding — plucked the small menu parchment, unrolled it, and set it down next to her plate. Her eyes, cooly darkly blue, showed through exotically slanted slits in her eyelids. Her lashes were golden, a tone darker than her hair. Her eyebrows the same, slanting in a straight line, following the path of her eyes.
He drew a silent but deep, shuddering breath.
God, she was unbelievably beautiful!
And he wasn't just being nice saying that he'd never seen a more exquisite female. But then, he'd seen her parents. Both of them were prime representatives of what it meant to be attractive. Even her own father, who must have been fifty already, had a beautiful face rather than a handsome one.
Sirius had to mentally take control over his own body when those dark blue eyes glanced up at him. "Are you not going to choose anything?"
It took a second for him to realise she was talking about food. His eyes flicked down at his rolled up menu, which was leaning against his side of the vase. "I've already chosen. I come here often."
She nodded, went back to staring at the menu. Her lips seemed to be smiling, but not. They were dark maroon, but the colour appeared to be natural rather than painted. They were lush and thick and ripe for sucking. Sirius shifted in his seat. Bloody hell! It was getting painful. He needed to do something other than to stare at her no matter if it was the perfect cover. Order suspected Death Eaters often came to socialise in the Leaky Cauldron. It was a popular place after all, and there could be one in here right now. He couldn't afford to be a fool. He couldn't hit her with derision. He had to pretend.
When they were alone. When they were alone he could blast her with all of his contempt. The thought, perversely, soothed him.
Sirius was stroking her wrist with his thumb. It was hard and rough and her skin was sensitive.
She wished he would stop, but he didn't even seem to realise he was doing it. He had been staring at her mouth for the past two minutes, and it took everything she had not to show her discomfort. She had never been more aware of her own body before, and how it could completely betray her on a whim. Her only escape came from reading her menu, which she hadn't really been taking in. But she tried to now and . . . Shepherd's Pie? What in Great Merlin was that?
"Dar-Sirius?" Antoinette found she couldn't summon the courage to call him 'Darling' a second time.
His gaze, which had still been staring at her mouth, rolled up meet to hers. He seemed to be saying, "yes?"
"What is Shepherd's Pie?"
He blinked, then grinned lazily. She ignored her speeded up heart. "It's mashed potatoes atop a whole volley of dissected animal parts. Minced meat, in other words. It's really rather tasty. It should be right up your alley." A hint of scoffing tone crept into his voice when he added, "You eat frogs legs and snails after all, don't you?"
"Frogs legs, yes. Escargot . . . I must admit I've never been fond of the dish."
"So, you're ready to order then?" His tone was all business, but he still didn't release her hand.
"I suppose."
Sirius waved over a waiter, who had been polishing a nearby table with a white dish cloth. All of Antoinette's "I supposes" were telling. He knew that that implied she felt insecure, and he was intrigued by that; intrigued that she would let him see this weakness of hers. But there was the possibility that she might not know she was showing it. And Sirius was rather observant himself. But he found it curious, also, that a pureblood witch, supposedly so in control of her emotions, wasn't really in control of them at all.
"Ready to order, Sirius?" The waiter stood before them, dishrag draped over his neck. He was fairly young, though not as young as Antoinette. His left eye also beheld a scissored scar. As though something sharp and grating had punched him or poked him there.
Sirius had not stopped staring at her. She made an effort for their ruse and smiled back at him. His eyes seemed to turn hot. "Yes," he said, in answer to the waiter's question.
"And who's this pretty thing?" the waiter said, turning to look at her. "Another one—"
"Put a lid on it, Davey, that's my fiancé!"
Antoinette knew why she should be stunned, because Sirius had willingly defended her, but the waiter, Davey, looked almost comically stunned also. "Sirius Black, engaged?" he stuttered.
"It's not the end of the bloody world," Sirius grumbled, refusing now to look at either of them.
Davey grinned at her. "Beggin' your pardon, Miss, it's just, well, Sirius Black tying the knot . . . it's a lot to get a bloke's head over. I remember when we were in school. None of the girls would leave him alone. New girlfriend every month. Couldn't seem to quite decide which one he ought to stick with. He must be head over heels for you."
"It was an almost instantaneous reaction on my part." She put that dig in just for Sirius, he heard, his eyes narrowed. Good, he understood her then.
"I wonder," he said through gritted teeth, "if we can be permitted to order now."
The waiter bowed dramatically. "Davey Gudgeon, at your service."
Sirius prattled off a list of foods and dishes, some of which Antoinette had never heard of. But that wasn't what was shocking. What was shocking her was the amount of food he planned to eat. Sirius must have seen the look on her face because he smiled, like he had private joke, and said, "Haven't eaten much in the past three days. I'm trying to catch up."
That was a gibe only for her. Payback, she suspected, for her earlier taunt. She just barely stopped herself from drawing her hand out of his. Implying that he hadn't been able to eat since three days ago, which was when they'd first met, showed exactly what he thought of her.
Sirius noticed her small tug, smiled lazily. "Something the matter, love?"
Before she could answer he picked up her hand and drew it to his lips. She almost jumped when his hot tongue traced the groves in between her fingers. She flushed. "N-no. Nothing."
"What'll you have for dessert?" Davey said in a bemused tone. He'd obviously witnessed her embarrassment.
"Nothing for now, Davey." Sirius was still staring at her with that half smile. When Davey was gone he released her hand. "That wasn't so hard was it?" he whispered.
Antoinette shook her head because the situation required it, not because she felt like it. He had said he wouldn't kiss her on the mouth, but the other things he was doing . . . well she was now quite sure they were worse.
For the next hour they ate.
When her Shepherd's Pie, which had been surprisingly good, was cleaned off her plate Sirius offered her some of his food, but not without a price. He wished to feed her. From his own fork! She put up with it the first couple of times, then had to beg off satiation. The way he would stare at her as he lifted the food to her mouth was all too knowing, all too intimate, all too erotic.
Sirius, however, was almost kicking himself. He had just made an already hazardous situation even more intimate. And his body was now so, tightened, he could hardly sit on the seat without shifting. Just looking at the way her mouth moved over his fork made him think of other things it could be useful for. When she said she was full he almost sighed in relief. He thought he ought to say something, anything, to pass the rest of the time, and to cover the awkwardness up. "You're staying at the Leaky Cauldron, I gather."
"Yes."
"Your parents, are they here now?"
She drew a breath and nodded gently.
She did everything with a kind of delicate poise, he realised. Never one to show emotion, never one to get angry. He almost felt like he should be provoking her on purpose; just to see if she could show righteous anger. Later, he promised himself, when we're alone. Right now he couldn't. The situation had gotten worse about half an hour ago.
Order suspected Death Eater, Augustus Rookwood, had walked in through the back entrance and sat down at the bar. Sirius had to hand it to Rookwood. He was doing his best not to appear as though he was staring at them, but little signs gave it away. Signs someone as observant as Sirius could pick up easily. Things ordinary people would think nothing of; Sirius took for as an excuse to be sly.
Rookwood, for example, would glance at the clock every few minutes with a thoughtful, yet bored frown on his face, as if he were just waiting for someone who, by lucky or unlucky coincidence, was turning out to be late for their meeting. That the clock just happened to sit right over his and Antoinette's table was just an added bonus. Of course that was why Sirius had picked this table in the first place. He and James had discussed and agreed earlier that if any Death Eaters happened to stroll into the pub to spy on him they would probably sit at the bar because it offered an almost unconstricted view of the rest of the room. Sirius would, of course, take pity on them by making the situation easier for them. The clock offered the perfect cover for that.
As Rookwood glanced at the clock for the fifth time Sirius stood up, mentally steading his head as he did so, walked around the table, sat down next to Antoinette, picked her up, and put her in his lap.
She went stiff as a plank.
He leaned forward with the pretence of kissing her neck, but really just wanting to whisper in her ear. "Relax," he gritted out. "There are some unsavoury characters here that would not approve of me if they knew all this was a farce. I need you to wrap your arms around my neck. That's it." He felt her hands lock themselves behind him. Inhaling the cool flowery scent of her hair was too dangerous for him right now, but he couldn't seem to help himself.
Oh sweet Merlin save me! he thought, when she shifted slightly in his lap in order to wrap her arms more closely about his neck.
He didn't dare stare at her. He tried focusing his attention on her neck instead, but that only made him want to suck on the little pulse that was now beating quite fast. He nearly frowned. She was still frightened of him. But surely she must know that he would never physically hurt her? He might hate her guts, but he wasn't a woman beater. He cleared his throat and said, in a voice that would carry over half the room, "God, you smell wonderful!"
Mentally, he scowled. He wasn't one for exhibitionism. Well, there was that one time in the girls' bathroom with Emily Rose-Gerald from Ravenclaw, but that was a long time ago. He generally preferred to keep his sex life private.
At his words he felt her stiffen, then become almost boneless in his arms. She buried her face against his shoulder and breathed deep. "You're embarrassing me," she whispered.
"That's sort of the point, love."
He gave her credit. She didn't stiffen again.
"I want to go up to my room now. I think we have had a sufficient . . . date. No need to prolong an already awkward situation."
Sirius almost sighed in relief. "All right." He set her away from him, thanking Merlin again wizards could wear robes that made hiding uncomfortable reactions easier from the general public, as well as from one's fiancée.
They stood up in unison. He grabbed at her hand before she could think to place it out of his reach, his expression warning her not to resist. He felt a deep satisfaction at having got his way.
Holding themselves as two lovers would, hips and shoulders touching, him leaning into her, Sirius began to walk to the bar, trusting that she would follow. They stopped to the right of Rookwood, who was pretending to stare, besotted, at Antoinette.
But it might not be pretend, Sirius admitted to himself. Nearly every man in the room had stared long at her throughout the last couple of hours at some point. He'd even seen Davey looking at her when her back was turned. The thought came to him suddenly that his betrothed inspired this reaction wherever she went, and the reason she was just standing there calm as you please was because she was used to it. She was used to men abandoning all sense of themselves to look like right bleeding prats simply because she was so . . . beautiful. And they were actually staring. Truly, unequivocally staring at her with their lust-filled eyes; eyes that should not have had any business staring at her. That was his job! A hot prickly feeling crawled into his chest. He had no idea what it was, but it felt unpleasant and damned uncomfortable.
I am not jealous!
He paid Tom the bill for their meal, twined his fingers with hers once more, then led her out of the room and up the stairs. Two quick checks on either side of him revealed that no one was about. He released her hand instantly and put as much distance between them without looking like an utter arse. "I'll walk you to your room," he said curtly.
He started down the corridor and she sped-walked to catch up to him. "You have to see my parents. They will want to speak with you. To get to know you."
He stopped, turned, and pinned her on the spot with his velvet gaze. "Isn't it enough that I've just been confined to the worst two hours of my life pretending to be in love with you? I don't need anymore you and me time!"
She tried not to cringe at his tone, at his words. What a difference it was from the way he had been acting only two minutes ago! "They will be there as a buffer," she explained. "You need not even speak to me if you do not wish it. My parents will view that as your right, as proper pureblood behaviour. They will not think anything of it."
"Loving family you have."
"I can say the same," she returned immediately.
He simply said, "Can't argue with you," then reached forward and grabbed her hand again. "Show me where their bloody room is, then!"
It was she who led this time, but she didn't have to lead very far. Her parents' room was two doors away. She knocked lightly. Her father's voice came through the door in French. "Is that you, Antoinette?"
She spared a glance at repressive fiancé. "Oui. Sirius is with me as well, Papa."
"Very well." There was a light shuffling noise, as if someone was walking to the door. It opened and her father stood, tall, thin, and elegant, in robes of deep mahogany upon the threshold. "Sirius, so good of you to come."
Her fiancé managed to shock her when he replied, in perfect French, "Feels good to be here, Edmond."
"You speak French?" she blurted without thinking.
"You did not know?" her father said, eyes flitting between the couple.
Sirius raised a brow at her, as though he were encouraging her to muddle her way out of the situation she had inadvertently created. "Well, no," she stuttered.
"Well that is to be expected," Edmond said with a certain degree of calm. "You do not know each other all that well. This time before the wedding is your only chance to really do so, is it not? The only reason your Maman and I know is because Mrs Black told us. But please, come in. Tatienne is currently in the bathroom freshening up. Would you care for a drink, Sirius? I have an assortment. Any particular preferences?"
They sat down on the chaise lounge before the fireplace at the encouragement of Edmond. Sirius brought their joined hands together into his lap. "I have a certain fondness for Firewhiskey as of late."
Antoinette saw him glance discreetly at her from beneath his lashes and knew it was yet another taunt meant to get under her skin. She did not give into the urge to tear her hand and from his and place it on her own lap. If she had he would know he had gotten to her. This way she had the upper hand, so to speak. That was how she saw it at least.
Edmond went to the drink cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and two glasses, then he set them both on the little table next to the sofa, and poured. He gave one to his future son-in-law and set the other to his lips.
He had been staring at the young couple before him, particularly their joint hands, and was a little distressed. He was an observant man, when it was put upon him to be, and he could clearly see that despite their "all's well" front, Toni and Sirius did not get along. Oh, it was nothing major that Edmond could see, just something in their manner that bespoke of a stiffness. He had originally dismissed it as formality, and the fact that they knew each other so little, but he now realised it was something more than that. As though they'd had a spat that they had yet to forgive each other for, only they never would. It was all very . . . distant.
But he did not despair yet. It was likely as he had thought before — they did not know each other and both were forced, somewhat, into this engagement. Yes there would be a little resentment between them. Edmond just hoped it would pass before they were due to wed.
"Oh Toni, you're back!" Tatienne said, joining them in the room. "And Sirius, wonderful to meet you again so soon."
Sirius released Antoinette's hand and stood up to kiss the offered cheek. When he sat back down he took her hand again, though this time he left them joined together in her lap rather than his.
"Have you thought about where you would like to hold the wedding?" Tatienne said instantly, taking the seat opposite. "I have asked your mother, Sirius, and she recommended the Ministry. Something about taking care of all legal ramifications at the same time, that way you do not have to be inconvenienced and apparate to the Ministry after the wedding. I told her that I agree, if you don't mind. The marriage contract can then be taken care of post haste. But I must admit I was a little, surprised, at Agrafelda's suggestion. She seems hastier to marry you off with all the proper legal accoutrements than we do Antoinette. It is as though she is somehow afraid you will not go through all the legal channels."
Sirius laughed bitterly in his head. So the old hag was afraid he would somehow manage to weasel out of their agreement, was she? She shouldn't have been. Sirius couldn't, even though he wanted to, desperately. Dumbledore had assured him of that. But he still did not enjoy talking about any subject that had his mother in it, but what the hell could he do? The only escape, as he saw it, was to use his dry wit. "I'm glad to know my mother has managed to behove herself, yet again, in my life. She seems to be doing that constantly lately."
Antoinette's hand tightened over his. Tatienne and Edmond would have gaped in surprise if they hadn't been raised better. But then Sirius heard a small half giggling half snorting sound come from his fiancé, and that seemed to set off both her parents.
They were actually laughing! All bloody three of them.
Sirius was too surprised to be angry.
"Oh, Mr Black!" Edmond said, clapping lightly with one hand on the back of the other, "you are priceless! Evidently you like your mother as much as we do. Oh you're surprised? Do not be. We have known your mother a lot longer than you have, after all. She is a very, colourful, witch and we are not shy to say that she can be too colourful at times. Almost to the point of embarrassment. She is also very brash, crude, rude, insulting—"
"Edmond!" Tatienne reprimanded. "That is quite enough! Kindly remember that Sirius is still present. He may not like his mother, but he might love her."
Sirius did laugh this time, though he was inclined to think all the Le Creux's were hypocrits. They were 'brash', 'crude', 'rude', and 'insulting' to muggleborns after all. And werewolves, too, apparently. But he still agreed with what they said of his mother. "No. I don't, Tatienne. Not even a little. I've hated her for the passed eleven years. Please, feel free to smear dirt on her name whenever you like, I won't stop you."
Edmond laughed. "You are simply delightful! Do you not think so, Toni?"
The young couple sat up a little at the abrupt change of subject, and at the somewhat alarming question. Sirius was surprised to discover he was actually curious about her answer. Antoinette was actually wondering what she would answer. She finally settled on one. "When he wishes to be."
Sirius grasped her hand so tightly she thought her fingers would break.
"Ah-ha!" her father said softly, having not noticed Sirius' warning. "It's like that, is it, Toni?"
She looked at her lap, at his hand that was weaved around hers. "At times."
"At least you are honest about it."
Both she and Sirius looked up in surprise.
"Oh, do not look at me like that children! You think Tatienne and I have not noticed the distance between you? Both of you are trying for our sake, and we thank you for that, but you will see that, with time, you will grow to care for each other, perhaps even love each other."
Antoinette wanted to shout that he was wrong, that they weren't trying for their sake, that they were only pretending because they hated each other, because Sirius needed her to pretend for whatever reason that was only known to him. But she merely smiled. When she turned her head to look at her fiancé she saw that he was doing the same thing.
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A/N: Just to let you know, Sirius has his own room at the Potter's place. I had this idea in my head that, since Sirius is so much like James' brother, he sometimes spends the weekends there, or stays over for a night simply because he is considered part of their family.
Bonus points to anyone who can guess why Sirius, who is a ladies man and should therefore be in tuned to female emotion, mistook Antoinette's shivering etc, for fear of him, rather than desire.
I also put this question forth. You guys recognise Davey don't you? I've put in little hints, but it should be fairly obvious.
Thanks for the read and please review.