Sirius enjoyed the nights spent at Magdalena's house, and he could not wait for dusk to set. Even in the dead of the night, the streets were alit with chatter, lights, and laughter, and on clear nights such as these, all he had to do was open the window and listen. She had said she paid good money for a spot like this, and was well-acquainted with many of the musicians. Tonight, however, when he opened it, there was not a single voice, not a single light.
"No one is going to be around until dawn. Probably around lunchtime tomorrow, and then same again for the next three nights." Magdalena explained, lighting a cigarette. "There's quite a big celebration happening."
"Why aren't you with them then?"
"I wonder…" she paused, taking a long swig of the cigarette, before getting up. She approached the window as well, and turned to face him. Her eyes lit up in the light of the embers, and with an enigmatic twitch of her lips, continued speaking. "Say, with no one around… what say you go outside? Come, let me show you something. Let's grab a-... grab that. And that." Cigarette between her lips, she pulled a blanket from under the table, before going to the kitchen. He was unsure where she had planned to go, however figured he might as well swipe the pack of cigarettes off the table.
Despite all his comments that he wasn't crippled and could help her, Magdalena was stubbornly carrying all the various things she gathered, using the usual shawl wrapped around her hip as a pouch.
"You don't have to do this, you're a wizard, for fuck's sake." he was amused, however, by her persistence, and continued following her in the moonlight. Whatever the celebration was, she was right, rows after rows of houses were plunged in darkness, and the streets were empty of any noise.
Soon enough, he started seeing less and less houses, and followed her on a nearby hill. It did feel good, to be outside - and he hated to admit it - to be outside without a purpose. There was nothing he could do tonight, and this, walking in the fresh air, listening to the low hummings and buzzings surrounding him, having his hair whipped back by the cold wind, it felt refreshing, better than mulling around in the same living room, reading the same books he has read a hundred times before. He breathed in the air hungrily, and looked around himself with newfound curiosity for the world.
"Here." she hummed, and laid out everything she carried on the grass.
He sat down in the grass, and stretched his arms. There was the beginning of a forest behind them, and he could almost see the roof of her house from their spot. However, more interesting were the sounds - now that he was in one spot and the buzzing of the mosquitoes were no longer bothering him, he could hear a crescendo from downstairs, a disembodied, ethereal hum rising towards them. He rose up, however, as far as they were, all he could see were lit fires and bodies the sizes of ants moving around slowly to the sounds of the musicians. He could barely make out what they were singing, however, even if he could fully hear it, he doubted he could understand it.
He turned towards Magdalena, watching her wipe the rim of a glass with the hem of her sleeve, humming alongside their song.
"What are they singing about?"
"It's a song about a girl… a lot of what we sing is about sorrow, or love. There's not much else to sing about in this world, I'd argue. You've listened a lot to our music since you've been here, haven't you? Mine, my neighbors' music… Down there, even if they don't speak the other's language, and a lot of them can only talk in English to each other, but they understand the other's songs, and sing and dance with them." she explained.
He watched the festivities with interest, taking out the packet of cigarettes he took from the table. He hadn't smoked in a long, long time, and watching her earlier filled him with a craving he had forgotten about. As he lit it up, all he could picture was Lily looking disapprovingly at him. He'd quit since he found out James and her were expecting, but figured by now, Harry was soon reaching the age he was at when he first started, and he could finally start again.
He took a deep swig, and was surprised by how fragrant it was. There was a taste he couldn't quite put his finger on, but felt oddly familiar. It stirred something within him, something he had buried deep. He turned back to Magdalena, and threw the pack on her lap, before turning back towards the light and music. He took another swig, still trying to identify what flavor was filling his nostrils and lungs.
"It calms you down, doesn't it? It gives you reassurance, but short-lived. It's nice, every now and then, to feel that." As she spoke, Sirius remembered a memory from when he had first arrived.
"You gave me something the first day we met. A ball of… something."
"Oh…that. The base is a rejuvenation potion, but solid. You never know when you need one, do you now?"
In the light of the moon and behind the golden, misty clouds of cigarette smoke, all he could see was her silhouette. And he felt more comfortable talking to the idea of a person, to a silhouette, than a real person. After all, he had spent many years talking to ideas of people, to images he would conjure with greater and greater difficulty along the years.
"Our celebrations were more of the somber kind, well, at least they were back when I was dragged to them as a kid. English pureblood wizards are -well, too pompous to ever truly enjoy anything."
"Are they now?" she chuckled, and he continued.
"Don't forget you are looking at the last member of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain. Can trace myself down a long line of pure-blood wizards that would've known each other well in spite of their relations by marriage, at family reunions and such." he had a bitter laugh, pausing so as to listen to what looked like an old, thin wizard with cascading grey hair start singing in a deep, baritone voice.
Sirius remembered the Black family tapestry like it had been just a few days ago he last saw himself there. He remembered how he ran his fingers, tracing himself through his mother, through his father, and the ridiculousness of it all became tangible with each branch. Of course they had a family tapestry. They certainly couldn't call that mockery a family tree, after all - a wreath, at best.
"Once I die, it's going to finally rid the world of this name, of one more pure-blood family name that brought nothing but evil and inbreeding." Even if he were to clear his name at the Ministry, what good could one Black do against hundreds of years of vile Blacks? The family, it was tainted.
"You would be willing to die then, leaving no mark or trace of yourself?" her voice was a whisper, and Sirius turned to face her for a moment, before pointing to the old wizard. "Appropriately enough, he is singing about the sorrow of death - asking the lute player to sing to him as he dies, and that he'll pay him handsomely for that, in money, and clothes and wine."
Nodding slowly, he closed his eyes, and pondered her questions. In the mournful calls to death and lute-playing, he found himself slowly swaying to its slow rhythm.
What had he done in his life anyway? Got his friends killed, failed to capture the one who betrayed them, spent a third of his life in prison. Thirty-five years, and nothing to show for them, nothing that he would want to leave any mark of, anyway.
He relayed to Magdalena those dark, miserable, nights in Azkaban, how he pondered the futility of his life many times, expecting the Dementors to one day finally suck out the last bit left of his soul.
"If I can die like that man sings about, with someone on a lute or a fiddle serenading me as I die, reminding me of only the good days I've had, as few and far between as they have been, what do I care about marks and traces I've left here." He nodded to himself as he spoke, and noticed that as he was rambling, the man was now replaced by a young woman. "What's she singing about?"
Sirius turned around, able to only see the tip of her lit cigarette and her eyes, and waited for an answer. However, all he got back was her laughter, and a comment that she had no idea.
"I don't speak Macedonian, see." she finally said, and he couldn't help but grin as well, before getting up, holding two filled glasses in her hands. "I know how to dance it, though."
They clinked the glasses against one another, before downing them. Magdalena swallowed hers quickly, before adding that she'll keep an eye on how many he'll have.
Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on Magdalena's waist, grabbing her other hand tightly. He nodded to her, and took hold, moving slowly as he tried to remember a basic dance. He hadn't danced in - well, since James and Lily's wedding, and even then, he was busier drinking with Remus than actually doing any sort of dancing.
"What're you doing?" she chuckled amused, and put a hand on his chest, jokingly pushing him away. "No, not like this, we don't do it like this. When you can go out in public, you must come with me, I'll show you." She took hold of his hands, before placing herself to his side, his arm around her waist, as she pressed her waist against his. She snapped her fingers to the rhythm of the music as she arched herself to the front, having him follow her. She started going back and forth, and he followed suit, only for her to stop.
"You have to do the footwork, see - no, take off your shoes, watch me do it first." He sat himself back onto the floor, and poured himself another drink. Magdalena picked up the hems of her robe, and tied them to the shawl on her waist, and only now did Sirius notice she was barefoot. She waited for the song to catch a faster rhythm, before closing her eyes, lifting her arms and snapping her fingers, moving her feet forwards and backwards without much regard for where the next step would take her. He took off his own shoes, and watched her shadow spin as behind him, more and more brass instruments started resounding, the feast's music becoming faster and more sprightly. He turned his head, and watched the musicians align themselves in a semi-circle, and watched as dozens of people, previously sitting down and eating, were now joining in. Those closer to the fires were dancing much like Magdalena, and he downed his drink, before following their footsteps.
Sirius raised his hands as well, and got back up on his feet. He felt ridiculous for a moment, until he started snapping his fingers to the rhythm of the music. He closed his eyes just as the witch did, and whipped his head back, listening in until the only thing that remained were the sounds of the fiddlers and the womens' singing. He raised one knee and forcefully hit his foot against the grass, moving back and forth as both Magdalena and the dances below them did. Swinging himself came natural as he stepped back and forth - legs following the snapping of his fingers, and the snapping following the rhythm. He opened his eyes, watching the stars shine above him - he could barely see his own hands from the darkness, and could barely see the shadow of the witch. He stepped towards her in the darkness, and with one hand still snapping to the rhythm, put her hand on her waist, trying to synchronize his movements with hers.
He couldn't, however, and gave up as soon as he tried - his movements were agitated and primal, whereas hers were studied, practiced and coordinated. However, it didn't matter, not when he found himself able to get lost in something other than alcohol. With neither talking, the sound of the drums rung in his ears as they were now facing one another, hands intertwined as they led each other in dance. At an arm's distance from one another, they whirled hither and thither, noticing only after that he had hit the bottle and all the alcohol they had was by now absorbed by the grass under which their feet swirled around.
For some strange reason he could not explain, he could not bear the distance from another human as she spun away, and in long strides, he grabbed hungrily at her shoulders, pressing his forehead against hers as he continued swaying to the music. In the reverberating melody of a solitary flute, she returned his gesture, locking her fingers tightly in his hair. A booming, croaked voice joined the flute, and his grip tightened, until he was no longer holding her shoulders, and was just crimping her robe in his fists.
He felt alone, utterly alone. Sirius wasn't sure what it was - was it the flute? The man? A community just below his feet, dancing with one another as he had to hide himself in the dark? The freedom the darkness offered him to be outside with others? Sirius raised his chin and placed it on top of her forehead, looking ahead, towards the infinite darkness the forest provided.
"Did the music stop for you too?" he finally asked, in a tone of utter desolation, as he stopped moving. It was only once he spoke, that against his chest, he could feel that she stopped dancing, and placed her hands on top of his, slowly removing her robe and hair from his clamped fists. It hadn't even occurred to him he was still holding tight onto her.
"Let's go then."
The next morning, he still didn't know if, indeed, she had also heard the music stop. Or if it even stopped at all. He remembered being able to hear it on their walk home. However, once again, he could only remember fragments of what happened the night before. He rose up from his bed, and went downstairs, hoping to piece it together with the witch. Somehow, for the first time in a long, long time, he felt like he was able to feel the rhythm of music and dance to it, dance like a madman, like he was able to enjoy something. He touched another human being, without any purpose, and he could grab at her waist, and her hair, and her head, and her forehead, and feel human warmth, and movement, movement against his own fingers and palms. He could remember that well enough.
He had led Magdalena to 4 Privet Drive in his Animagus form, pretending to be her enormous dog. He was sure Harry knew him enough to figure out it was him. He had sent him another letter, asking him to have his Invisibility Cloak prepared. While he could hide himself well enough as an Animagus, if he were under James's cloak he could actually talk to Harry freely on the street, which was highly preferable.
"What did you tell your uncle and aunt then?" he asked, carefully walking under it as he spoke.
"I told them I'm meeting a teacher from school. I thought Professor- uh, well, Lupin would come." Harry spoke looking ahead, making sure not to turn towards where Sirius's disembodied voice came from.
"I haven't seen Remus yet. If there's any person I want to see first, it's you, Harry. We're family, after all." Each other's last surviving wizarding family, at least.
"I know a place where you can talk in peace. Without this…- all of this." Magdalena said out loud, looking ahead as well. She stopped for a second, looking around the empty street, before taking one good look at Harry.. "You have your wand with you, yeah? Good, good." She waved to the both of them to follow her behind a parked van, and put her arm around Harry's. "You too." she said, looking around towards nothing. Sirius grabbed her elbow through the cloak.
"Have you ever Apparated before, Harry?" Sirius asked, seeing the uncertainty on Harry's face.
"No, I'm- I'm not sure I can."
"You wouldn't at your age, no. Just hold on tight then. You don't need to do anything, just hold tight and don't let go of me."
Sirius couldn't help but notice her voice was softer when addressing Harry directly.
The place she had transported them too was a small pub. A big sign welcoming all who entered stood above it, yet, in spite of the inviting message, Muggles seemed to walk past, paying no attention to it. They had walked in without an issue, after making sure Harry was fine after his first Side-Along Apparition.
"I think I prefer brooms." Harry chuckled.
"James wasn't much for Apparition either, you know." Sirius added amused, watching Harry's eyes light up as he turned towards his voice.
The small pub was silent and almost empty, shrouded in dim lights and faint cigarette smoke, despite the sunny day outside. He couldn't understand what the few customers were saying - they all spoke fast, amalgamated, and constantly interrupted one another. A witch with two thick, gray braids of hair served at the front, and they both watched as Magdalena leaned over the counter, kissing the witch on both cheeks, before pointing a finger upstairs. The old witch dismissed her with one hand, before taking a look at Harry, and furrowing her brows.
"You're the kid, innit?" she croaked amused, putting one hand against her hip. She spoke with a foreign accent, yet used British slang in her speech, to their amusement. "Drinks on the house for you, but only today, yeah lad? Next time you come, you're old news."
Sirius followed Magdalena and Harry upstairs, to a small hidden alcove. From upstairs, he could see the few customers, deep in their conversations and ignoring them, as well as the entrance. He still took out his wand and cast an Imperturbable charm, and moved himself into a corner from which he could see everything happening below, without being seen. With one move, he cast off the cloak, making himself visible again, and grabbed Harry in a hug.
"I wish we could have met under better conditions, Harry, I truly wish that."