Unintended Intentions, Chapter 2: Antithesis
Genre: Romance, Drama, Humor.
Characters: Marauders, etc.
Universe: Set in an AU London, with a King instead of a Queen (will come into the plot later).
Warning: May eventually contain homosexuality, if offended, please do not hesitate to stop reading.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1: Apotheosis
Later Chapters: Chapter 3: Anamnesis | Chapter 4: Adumbration | Chapter 5: Crepuscule
Unintended Intentions
Chapter 2: Antithesis
Soft, measured footfalls crept up the wooden, creaky steps. A steadying hand grasped the banister; the other clutched the strap of a guitar bag, as the nimble figure advanced carefully towards his rooms. He inserted the key, turning the door knob as he stepped in cautiously and as quietly as possible into the hallway. A light snore from the sofa alerted him to an all-too-familiar presence in his flat. The door closed with a slight click, and he made his way to his bedroom, ignoring the short and plump figure sprawled luxuriously on the worn but comfortable sofa.
****
He had another engagement that evening - one that James would attend when summoned - though Sirius, being a distinguished bachelor with ample time at his disposal, was always required to attend. He was never coerced into joining, but he knew he was artfully made to feel obligated to do so. He growled in a low rumble, chagrined that he allowed himself to be manipulated in such a manner. Yet, if he didn't, there would be consequences - penalties he would rather much not be responsible for. And so, Sirius allowed his free times such as these be monopolised by the man.
He hailed a cab, a furious scowl marring his striking features, and gruffly announced his destination, before settling into his own thoughts. The journey to the intended location would provide him a liberal amount of time to contemplate on various matters he had been tasked to supervise.
****
Tonight was the same as any other night. Nothing outstanding - he knew and disregarded some appreciative listeners, and performed to the best of his abilities. None of his admiring audience were bothered enough to offer him an enticing proposal to perform professionally. Most were too absorbed in their own business dealings. Truth be told, he found that his pay and current stint at Emerald City rather adequate. He found satisfaction in his job, and was pleased with the flexibility that was awarded to him. This left him to his own devices on nights that were not on his shift.
He took off the guitar bag, positing the instrument against a wall by his nightstand. Deft fingers quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt, unbuckled his belt, and took off his smart, black trousers as he put on some comfortable nightclothes. Shiny, black leather shoes were kicked off gently, and then arranged by the door as he ambled towards his writing desk by the window. Sheaves of paper were organized neatly in a folder; his elegant, distinctive writing illuminated by a rusty, metal desk lamp. He sat down, and began writing zealously, the sounds of the nib of a fountain pen scratching on the surface of a paper soothing his spent nerves.
****
It was about a half hour long journey, and the heavy downpour did nothing to lift his agitation. He paid the cab driver generously, ignoring the profuse exclamations of gratefulness, and struck the knocker three times. The ornately designed oak door swung opened, a faint groan from the hinges making him glare at his greeter, also his host. An impeccably dressed tall, man with silvery hair and a tidily trimmed beard, whose nose appeared to be broken twice, stood before him, a quivering, amused smile tugging at the ends of his lips as he saw the irate young man.
"One would think you loathe keeping an old man company, Mr Black," the older man noted casually, stepping behind to let Sirius in, eyes twinkling in the dimly-lit hallway.
"Your Highness, we both know I dearly relish our scant amount of time together," Sirius replied, voice dangerously low and dripping with sarcasm, grey eyes still ablaze with annoyance. He had nothing to fear, especially if the old man - on better days, his mind would happily oblige with the proper title of the King, but not today - was in a good mood.
"Ah, that's good!" He rubbed his hands, glee now permeating his calm demeanour, "Let us adjourn to the drawing room, shall we?"
He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about something that faintly resembled a colourful epithet that he thought would best describe the invitation. They always had their nightly discussions in the drawing room, and he saw no need for repetition of such a request.
****
The occasional owl-hoots and barking broke into his train of thoughts, disturbing him out of his reverie. He put his pen down, rubbing his face as he stifled a yawn, and stretched. It was time to sleep, he decided, as he gave a quick glance at the clock on the wall, hands showing that it was almost three o'clock. He stood up, and staggered towards his double bed, engulfed with comfort as his cream-colored duvet wrapped him in warmth. He needn't set the alarm clock, knowing that his body would automatically be awake by nine o'clock. Six hours of rest was sufficient, even for a busy day he was about to endure later.
****
"What news do you bring from the Continent?"
Both men sipped quietly on their brandy, seated opposite each other by the fireplace. Sirius stared into the fire, watching the flames licking the logs, crackling loudly as they sat in silence.
"Apart from the usual mischiefs, there are murmurs of an uprising."
"Please elaborate."
"I don't have enough details, yet."
"There is urgency in the matter?"
"Could just be rumours," he replied, dismissing the notion.
"Do look into it."
He turned towards the older man, eyebrows raised and a corner of his mouth raised in a smirk. "You aren't possibly taking this seriously, are you?"
The King unfurled his clasped fingers, directing his gaze steadily into the mirthless grey eyes before him. "What is that saying?" His light tone barely hiding the serious consideration he was giving the problem, "Is it that if there's smoke, there's fire?"
For a moment, Sirius looked mutinous, and then nodded slowly, understanding the care with which he had to address the problem. "I'll have word by a fortnight."
"Godspeed, Mr Black," his voice still a calm tenor, a gentle smile now spreading across his face, "And have a pleasant evening." The elder man stood up, his regal stature rivalling Sirius' own proud posture.
"Good evening to you too, Your Majesty," he replied softly, bowing slightly as he quickly made his way out.
God save the King.