FIC-Repost: Of Olden Times, PG-13
This was written for fleshdress on the occasion of her birthday and originally posted to fleshylove. I'm only posting it here for archive reasons. :)
Title: Of Olden Times
Author: aillil
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo
Summary: Sirius and Lucius behind the scenes.
Disclaimer: Right, as if Rowling would write such a thing… Apart from that, there are a number of ideas in there that haven't originated in my brain, most important of which: the dementors' dealings with Sirius are entirely fleshdress' fault (*g*), and Lucius' patricide is one of underlucius' inventions.
Word Count: 1,267
Warning: This is crack!meta, just so you know. *g*
Thanks: go to moondagny for the beta. *loves*
In all his posthumous splendour, Sirius sat languorously in one of the supple leather armchairs in Lucius' study. Being dead was a very fine thing indeed, as Sirius had discovered, for it granted him considerably more leisure time than he had ever had before. Even during the bleak Azkaban years, he had, at times, been called into service; some writers would have him sit or lie in his cell, dead to the world, and what a terrible bore that had been - with the odd exception, of course, and he steadfastly refused to remember those occasions. Dementor co- No, he would not go there. Eww...
Then there had been a time when bring-back-Black!fic had been all the rage, but the craze had very much abated; Sirius could mostly do as he pleased. Nobody really called on him in the present stage of his life, or non-life rather - save for those wacky writers who dared venture into the mostly soppy realms of afterlife!fic.
"Do you still take cream in your tea, Cousin?" asked Lucius, who was sitting in a similar chair on the other side of the little table.
Sirius gave an affirmative nod, reflecting on the astonishing sheen of Lucius' hair. Spending a great deal of time on the Azkaban set had certainly not wreaked havoc on either ends or roots of the blond mane, and Sirius felt a vague stab of jealously. His own hair had sadly lacked absolutely everything of its teenage glory for years on end; nothing had been left of the satiny sleekness-
"Sirius?" asked Lucius, obviously wavering between sarcasm and amusement.
"Yes. I'll take a dash of cream, please."
"As you wish."
Lucius flicked his wand, and the creamer hopped into service; a white cloud rose up in the tea, resembling the colour of the exquisite bone china cup. Always ready to appreciate true beauty, Sirius observed the process, then let his gaze glide along the rim of the cup, over the pattern of the Malfoy crest on the side and the delicate saucer. Work presented him all too rarely with anything of Spode origin; if mentioned at all, most crockery was of a fairly generic make and poor quality, which was just as well as much of it suffered the fate of being smashed by some emo!character or other. After all, one Ikea-style dinner plate more or less didn't make much of a difference.
"How are you spending your life these days, Cousin?"
Sirius shrugged.
"Just enjoying the quiet life of the dead, I suppose." He took a sip of his tea; Earl Grey in perfection. "There is that lovely café in the quiet corners on the 19th floor…"
With a snort of disgust, Lucius turned his face.
"I will never set foot on that floor again. Not voluntarily at least. Next time I'd end up in some common Muggle gaol, I'm sure of it. Azkaban's bad enough. Ruins the skin."
"But it earned you much approval in the sleek villain department."
"With copious deduction of points for form," added Lucius in a sarcastic drawl. "And I can't even find it unfair, because I, a seasoned Death Eater, let myself be caught by a mangy band of teenagers… I deserved no less. Well, at least it wasn't my idea."
Sirius arched one eyebrow.
"Much of what happens in canon isn't really your idea. Not after movie!canon hijacked your personality at least."
Lucius tried - unsuccessfully - to hide the delighted smile that appeared every time anyone mentioned his character make-over. Well, who wouldn't have been delighted over such an enormous improvement on the coolness scale?
"But let's not forget that mention of your father's most unfortunate demise in canon. It certainly made up for much of the idiocy she had you commit in the preceding instalment, at least with the fangirls."
With great care, Lucius crossed his legs. A crumpled set of robes wouldn't do at all, not for him and not for his character, either.
"Well," he began with a slow smile. "What shall I say? You flatter me, Cousin Sirius." He took another sip of his tea. "Let us speak of merrier things than my alleged patricide, though. Do you remember the parties your parents used to give during your schooldays?"
Sirius nodded.
"I harbour the fondest memories of one in particular," Lucius went on, his eyes becoming dreamy. "It seems like a lifetime ago now." The cup rattled slightly on the saucer, when he set it back on the table. "You were quite young still, maybe fifteen or sixteen… And I found you in the large drawing room, where you were trying to stay awake-"
"Because of Aunt Lucretia's Stinging Hexes probably. She was very generous in that respect, I assure you."
"A most memorable party," commented Lucius. "I remember that I told you then that Narcissa and I would marry."
Letting his eyes skim over the spines of the books on the nearest shelf, Sirius finally remarked:
"You propositioned me."
Lucius fixed him with an indulgent smile.
"Yes, I did."
"Not very gentleman-like to proposition a mere teenager with your prospective wife in the same room, was it?"
Lucius bit into one of the mousse pralines that had been sitting beside the teacups. The sumptuous dark chocolate clung to his lips, and he licked it off with two swift strokes. Sirius reached for a praline as well.
"Are you still interested?" he asked.
One blond eyebrow was lifted.
"I'm a married man now, Cousin Sirius."
Sirius raised one eyebrow in return.
"You have been married these twenty years, Lucius."
Deliberately redirecting his attention to the praline, he bit off part of it, feeling his teeth crack the hard chocolate shell and then sink through the soft mousse inside. Delicious and sensual. Who knew that Lucius' house-elves could cook this well even outside the realm of fiction? Distantly he remembered that there had been such a thing as lack of sex lately, because Remus was presently much engaged at work and, when home at all, groaned about wanting to spend time with people his age and not with a bunch of teenagers.
"Do you let that deter you?" asked Sirius.
"Sometimes," Lucius answered with a mocking nod of his head, but Sirius saw that his eyes were glued on his mouth.
Experimentally, Sirius licked his lips (slowly for full effect of course), and Lucius' pupils dilated visibly.
"It seems that the tables have turned since the days at your parents' home," Lucius remarked quietly.
A smirk spread over Sirius' face.
"Have they, now?"
At the edge of his peripheral vision, Sirius suddenly glimpsed a movement. He whipped his head around and sure enough, there was a person standing behind him. It was a woman, half-hidden in the shadows, and observing the scene avidly with a serene smile on her face.
"Bugger! They lured us back to work with this one!" Sirius stage-whispered into Lucius' direction.
Lucius fixed the woman with a withering glare.
"I bet," Sirius went on, "she wanted to see you bottoming for me."
"WHAT?" All blood drained from Lucius' face, as he jumped to his feet and advanced on the woman. "How dare you even think such a thing!"
The woman raised both eyebrows, retreating further into the shadows. Lucius made a dismissive gesture and returned to his chair.
"So, would you bottom with me?" asked Sirius, hiding his smile behind the raised teacup.
Lucius cocked his head, hair fanning out over the side of his armchair; slowly a smile spread over his face.
"I might…" He crossed his legs again, rearranging his robes carefully. "In fiction."
End.