Neverwhere/Harry Potter: Sirius/Marquis
Sirius scanned the alley warily, alert for anything out of the ordinary - but then it was Dung who'd set this up, Dung's contact, so he could be in for anything. He snorted softly to himself. Even the way he phrased it in his head was precise, blameless, carefully chosen words that ignored the part where he'd offered Dung a daycap, and one for the road, and another couple for the sofa, and three for the floor… Let McGonagall yell at him later for it - fuck it. Right now he was free, and that was what counted.
He'd made his way through the streets of London as a dog, ignoring the strangers who'd tried to pat him - except for the pretty blonde with legs up to her neck. Yeah, that'd been worth a little delay; she wasn't as good at ear scritching as Remus, though. Now he was human again, leaning against a wall with his arms folded, under an ancient gas lamp that made him think of Diagon Alley with a dulled regret. Too damned long since he'd been able to look into windows at the latest broom, at the replica England kit… When the kids weren't about, the news about Quidditch was patchy at best - Arthur was far more interested in football, and Remus had never been much of a one for sports.
And he wouldn't talk to Snape if you paid him.
Nothing moved in the dark alley, and he blew out a frustrated breath and turned to leave.
"Where's Fletcher?"
He spun around, but the alley still seemed empty - until a shadow unfolded from the wall, stepping forward into the light to reveal itself as a man dressed in tattered finery. A long toppled lord with a frock coat that made Sirius realise the value, suddenly, of vintage clothing, and a pair of motorcycle books that sent a sharp spike of nostalgia through him.
"I came instead."
Dark eyes ran over him from head to toe, and the man's lips twisted into an unfriendly grin.
"That wasn't what I asked, Black."
Sirius' hackles rose. "You know me?"
"I know a lot of things." He smirked and buffed his nails on the lapel of his coat, and Sirius decided that he really didn't like this man.
"So Dung tells me. That's why I'm here."
"And whatever makes you think I'll trade with you?"
Sirius bared his teeth. "My innate charm?"
The man's smile widened and he turned away.
"Too bad."
"Wait!" His wand was in his hand before he'd even noticed he'd reached for it. It was second nature, something he'd gotten in trouble for in the past, but it had no discernable effect; the man didn't draw his own, or look cowed. He did pause, though, and sprang up onto the lid of a large metal rubbish bin, lounging elegantly and facing Sirius with his eyebrows raised.
"What do you have to offer me, Sirius Black?"
He gritted his teeth at the mocking in the man's voice, struggling to remain polite. Remus would've been better at this. He took a deep breath, but there was still something of a growl in his voice as he answered.
"Tell me your name and maybe I'll tell you."
Dark eyes glittered, and he folded himself into a bow, an odd contortion in a lounging man.
"The Marquis de Carabas, at your service." He leaned forward slightly, his tongue running across teeth that were startlingly white against dark skin. "For a price, of course."
"Isn't everything?"
"Anything that's worth having." The Marquis leapt down, landing in front of Sirius again. "And it's worth having, believe me."
"What, exactly, is it?"
"Payment first, Black. What are you offering?"
Sirius shrugged. "The usual price." It couldn't be much, not if Dung was willing to pay it.
De Carabas grinned widely.
"That sounds fair." He patted Sirius on the head. "Kneel. Good dog."
He'd made his way through the streets of London as a dog, ignoring the strangers who'd tried to pat him - except for the pretty blonde with legs up to her neck. Yeah, that'd been worth a little delay; she wasn't as good at ear scritching as Remus, though. Now he was human again, leaning against a wall with his arms folded, under an ancient gas lamp that made him think of Diagon Alley with a dulled regret. Too damned long since he'd been able to look into windows at the latest broom, at the replica England kit… When the kids weren't about, the news about Quidditch was patchy at best - Arthur was far more interested in football, and Remus had never been much of a one for sports.
And he wouldn't talk to Snape if you paid him.
Nothing moved in the dark alley, and he blew out a frustrated breath and turned to leave.
"Where's Fletcher?"
He spun around, but the alley still seemed empty - until a shadow unfolded from the wall, stepping forward into the light to reveal itself as a man dressed in tattered finery. A long toppled lord with a frock coat that made Sirius realise the value, suddenly, of vintage clothing, and a pair of motorcycle books that sent a sharp spike of nostalgia through him.
"I came instead."
Dark eyes ran over him from head to toe, and the man's lips twisted into an unfriendly grin.
"That wasn't what I asked, Black."
Sirius' hackles rose. "You know me?"
"I know a lot of things." He smirked and buffed his nails on the lapel of his coat, and Sirius decided that he really didn't like this man.
"So Dung tells me. That's why I'm here."
"And whatever makes you think I'll trade with you?"
Sirius bared his teeth. "My innate charm?"
The man's smile widened and he turned away.
"Too bad."
"Wait!" His wand was in his hand before he'd even noticed he'd reached for it. It was second nature, something he'd gotten in trouble for in the past, but it had no discernable effect; the man didn't draw his own, or look cowed. He did pause, though, and sprang up onto the lid of a large metal rubbish bin, lounging elegantly and facing Sirius with his eyebrows raised.
"What do you have to offer me, Sirius Black?"
He gritted his teeth at the mocking in the man's voice, struggling to remain polite. Remus would've been better at this. He took a deep breath, but there was still something of a growl in his voice as he answered.
"Tell me your name and maybe I'll tell you."
Dark eyes glittered, and he folded himself into a bow, an odd contortion in a lounging man.
"The Marquis de Carabas, at your service." He leaned forward slightly, his tongue running across teeth that were startlingly white against dark skin. "For a price, of course."
"Isn't everything?"
"Anything that's worth having." The Marquis leapt down, landing in front of Sirius again. "And it's worth having, believe me."
"What, exactly, is it?"
"Payment first, Black. What are you offering?"
Sirius shrugged. "The usual price." It couldn't be much, not if Dung was willing to pay it.
De Carabas grinned widely.
"That sounds fair." He patted Sirius on the head. "Kneel. Good dog."