Snapshots: Comfort

[toujours_nigel]

“Master.”

 

“What?”

 

“Master Lucius, there is a man downstairs who is wanting to see you.”

 

“Indeed.” He gets up, not really reluctant to abandon the letter to Sasha Gregorovitch he has been trying to write all evening. The boy will be useful if he decides to join them, specially now that Ollivander has refused so decidedly, but it’s doubtful how much he actually knows of his grandfather’s trade and how much… “Who is it?”

 

“Wouldn’t be saying his name, Master.” Dobby turns huge, bulging green eyes on him. “I’ve been asking him, Master.”

 

“Young?” Unlikely any of his older… colleagues will be paying a call, with Bella hosting a gathering at Serpentshead.

 

“Yes Master. Master…” Again the terrified look. Is it going to be impossible to train this one? He almost misses Mindy. “He is looking like Master Regulus. Only, he is being bigger.”

 

Sweet Morgana. Surely not.

 

“Hello, elf. I see you found him.”

 

“Yes, young Master.”

 

“Sirius.”

 

“Lucius.” The boy dips into a formal bow, then grins, straightening. “New elf?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Mindy disloyal to you?”

 

“Loyal to my father.”

 

“And the two are different?”

 

He turns away, not trusting himself to suppress a smile. It’s been a year, almost, since he’s seen Sirius – the ambush last week does not count, though he still bears its marks and is willing to bet Sirius does as well. “Get us some wine, elf.”

 

“Don’t.”

 

“I assure you I haven’t poisoned or drugged it.”

 

“And I assure you I’ve already drunk more than I should. Leave us, elf.”

 

Dobby disappears with a crack. Still as untrained as ever. Bah! “You shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“You shouldn’t buy wild ones. More trouble than they’re worth.” Sirius grins again, then sobers. “Stun her first. She’s only doing what she’s been told is her duty.”

 

He inclines his head. “I don’t believe you came to lecture on the proper etiquette of disposing of house-elves.”

 

“No, that’s just a bonus, my Lucius. I came,” he pulls an envelope from within his robes, “to deliver this.”

 

It’s sealed with the Potter coat-of-arms. “Is James running short on owls?”

 

“Just thought this deserved a bit of a personal touch.”

 

He hitches an eyebrow up. “Indeed. And why so?”

 

“Well,” Sirius’ grin threatens to split his face, but the grey eyes look drained, “it’s an invitation, see? To James and Lily’s engagement.”

 

He knows he has not hidden his shock, but cannot help it any more than he can suppress the sharp edge in his voice. “Did James send you here?”

 

“No.” He supposes he must look as sceptical as he feels, because Sirius decides to elaborate. “He didn’t. And even if he had, it wouldn’t mean anything. James doesn’t… he doesn’t know we’re… doesn’t know he’s shackled to me.”

 

“How can he not?”

 

“I didn’t realise till your letter arrived. It’s not like he’s supposed to suddenly be able to read my mind or anything. It just… drew us a little closer. And when you’ve practically shared the same crib and bottle, that’s… easy to miss, I guess.”

 

He nods, conceding defeat. It was much the same for him. “I’ll be sure to attend. After all, unless the Potters are permitted bigamy, this should be entertaining.”

 

“It’s just rings and words, Lucius. Not a bonding. And, even if it were, I don’t think it would yield much entertainment.”

 

“Why so?”

 

“Just a hunch.” Sirius’ shoulders slump and he sinks back into the armchair he had been in when Lucius entered. “Maybe it isn’t that James doesn’t realise that he’s tied to me. Maybe it’s that there isn’t anything at all and Dorea was just fostering me into the Potters.”

 

He has to clench his fists to stop himself from going to Sirius. Instead, he seats himself on the opposite side of the fireplace. “And what leads you to this conclusion, my pup?”

 

“A confarreatio bond demands… this sounds so gay… fidelity, right? Even when it’s… unconsummated?” Sirius’ grimace at the words cannot help being comical, though what he thinks is being suggested is not at all so.

 

“Yes. Well, usually.” Sirius looks up, eyes questioning. “Bellatrix managed to get a dispensation by insisting the Rodolphus was impotent. No, they didn’t tell me. I… dug around.” After Bella married, after she didn’t stop educating him. Doesn’t matter. “But because she did, it wasn’t regarded as pure confarreatio. A Ministry official was present, in addition to the Clans. So, my pup, that is most certainly not the case with you. Why the sudden interest in fidelity?”

 

“James has been sleeping with her since before Dorea died. Nothing changed between us. So, it can’t be a bond.” Sirius looks up, face drawn. “Can it?”

 

“He has, has he? And let you know the very first time it occurred, I suppose.”

 

“Yeah. Bells and whistles and all. Never seen anyone so happy to lose their virginity. Get to the goddamn point, Lucius.”

 

“I am. It’s definitely confarreatio.” He holds up a hand to silence the protest he knows is coming. “The confarreatio bond was introduced in Britain by the Roman wizards. It fell into disuse after a time, mostly because the Romans insisted that they be the only ones to officiate at the ceremonies. We both know just how well the tribes would react to that. The Normans reintroduced it and in time it was favoured excessively among the pure-blood families, who almost gave up the other methods of bonding, which, however, continued to be used by the half-bloods and in case of mixed marriages. The Muggleborns did not, obviously, have the option of confarreatio, as it joins not only the…”

 

“The pair being bonded, but the families as well. I know this, Lucius. Tell me something I don’t.”

 

He hushes Sirius before resuming. “However, it’s an interesting fact the Romans, and perhaps even the Normans, would be hard put to recognise the confarreatio as it exists now. Among the Romans, at least, the bond was extremely restrictive on the girl. Her entire property would be handed over to her bond-mate and his family. Not only that, but, in contrast to the modern confarreatio, which demands fidelity from both parties, once they are bonded, the Roman confarreatio would demand it only from the girl.” Lecture over, he leans back to watch Sirius.

 

“She made me a girl?” Merlin help him. Sirius will never forgive him if he laughs but the sight of him leaping up, six foot two of slender youth, gesturing at his very distinctly male body is the most amusing sight he’s seen in a long time. “A girl?!?”

 

“Well,” he looks at Sirius carefully, “you make an exquisitely pretty one, my pup.”

 

Sirius sits on the arm of his chair, still glowering, then asks in an overly casual voice, “So, if I sleep with someone, James will be free of this? And he’ll be able to marry Lily and… the bond will be broken?”

 

“Yes. In theory.”

 

“In theory?”

 

“Well, none of the girls actually ever tried to, I believe. Roman law would allow them to be executed for attempting it.”   

 

“British law won’t,” Sirius says, leaning close.

 

“No. But if your hand actually gets where it’s going,” he says, grabbing it, “Cissa will castrate you and cripple me.”

 

Sirius grins at him, mouth close enough to kiss. “Sorry. But I’d rather it were you than some Knockturn Alley whore.”

 

“Of course you would, pup.” He pushes Sirius away, not enough to really make him lose balance, just a little. “I’m definitely cheaper and probably more talented.”

 

He half-expects a crude joke about Cissa’s tastes and wedding-night revelations, but Sirius straightens, eyes lowered. “I’m sorry. I have no right to pull you down just because I want the warm body to be someone I know.”

 

Someone who can be trusted to do as much as needed and no more and he can’t blame Sirius for wanting that, not after everything. “You needn’t, you know. Let the bond stay. What do you care if the Mudblood gets her heart broken?”

 

“She’s lovely, Lucius. And she loves him and I don’t think I’ve ever seen James happier.” Raises his eyes. Dry, at least. He’d thought he heard tears in the words. “I won’t be the cause of that being ruined.”

 

“Of course you won’t. What of you?”

 

Sirius shrugs, stands up. “Doesn’t matter. Knockturn Alley… do you know where I should go? No, I don’t suppose you do.” Nods at the envelope on the table. “Do come.”

 

“Sirius.” He stands up as well, blocking him. “Stay.”

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to Knockturn tonight. Tomorrow maybe, not tonight.” He won’t, can’t, admit that the thought of his boy in some slut’s bed worries, angers, him rather more than it should, but he knows Sirius reads it in his eyes, from the way the boy smirks. “Promise.”

 

“So stay.”

 

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, Lucius.” Of course not, he’d given that up when he married, but he’d really thought James would take better care of his pup. “You don’t have to take care of me.” But he does, despite everything common sense and instinct of self-preservation are telling him. Can’t stop. Hasn’t been able to, since they lay curled in Bella’s bed, ten years ago.

 

“So stay. Not like you have anything else to do. Cissa’s at Serpentshead and I’m bored out of my mind. You’d be doing me a favour.”

 

“And what would you say when asked why you have a member of the Order sleeping in a guest bedroom?” Sirius is, incredibly, not joking, the eyes are grave, the mouth a thin line.

 

“Same thing you will, if Dumbledore asks what you were doing sleeping there. Trying to win over a prized member of the other side.”

 

Sirius smiles at him, mischief resurfacing. “Will it be the truth?”

 

He smiles in answer. “I won’t if you won’t.”

 

Sirius nods, relaxes, and it strikes him afresh how close they are standing and what a handsome man his boy is well on the way to becoming. “Ah. Well, I believe I owe you a favour.”

 

He inclines his head. “I’m most gratified, pup.” When he looks up, Sirius is staring at him intently, eyes wide and hungry. “What?”

 

“We could have had a different story, you and I,” Sirius says, raising a hand to stroke his face. “We could have.”

 

He leans away from the touch. “Not one with a happier ending,” he says sternly.

 

“No,” Sirius leans closer. “But a different one,” he breathes against his lips.

 

Sirius kisses like he always does, desire and despair and pain, the taste unchanged in four years, though it feels different now. They’ve both grown up, from adolescent and not-yet-man to a boy teetering on the threshold of manhood and another barely two steps in. He pulls back, struggling to keep breathing normally. “I’m not James.”

 

Sirius looks at him with shadowed eyes. “Evidently,” he smirks, lifting a long blond strand. “Obviously you aren’t.” Sirius takes his left hand, presses a kiss to the wrist, just above the Dark Mark. “I don’t want you to be James,” he whispers, pulling the arm to his waist. “I want you to be you,” Sirius says, and kisses him again.

 

When they part this time, Sirius’ face is flushed and they’re both breathing heavily. “Bed,” Sirius mutters, and for one insane moment, he wants to take him up on the offer. But reason reasserts itself and reminds him that he would wake up to a cold bed, the remnants of a marriage and the echoes of what might have been. And Sirius would not care, would count the night a success if it freed James.  

 

So he steps back till there is space enough between them that Rita Skeeter would call them distant acquaintances. “Certainly,” he says, voice coldly polite. “I’ll have a bed prepared for you.”

 

“Thank you.” Sirius, he notes with relief, has stepped into the desired role with practised ease. “I am rather tired. It’s been a long day.”

 

“I can imagine.” He moves away, determined to stay in his own rooms till Sirius has retired for the night.

 

“Lucius?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No need.”

 

“You are coming tomorrow, aren’t you? To James’ betrothal?” Sirius looks absurdly small in the enormous armchair. Absurdly like the boy who used to crawl into his bed at night, mutely asking to be held, and he wonders whether that is all the man had been demanding.

 

So he smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Of course. What a stupid question, pup.”

 

“Yeah, I know. Just confirming.” Sirius pulls himself to his feet and comes up beside him. “How ‘bout getting that bed ready? I’m about to keel over.”

 

“Certainly. Elf!”

 

Dobby appears with a crack, half-on Sirius’ feet. “Yes, Master?”

 

“Prepare the bedroom next to mine.”

 

“Yes Master Lucius.”

 

Sirius snickers as Dobby disappears. “You’ll never have him well-trained.” He shrugs. “Lily wants James to free Flopsy. Should I ask him to sell her to you?”

 

“No. Also, why?”

 

“She thinks enslaving house-elves is a mark of pure-blood arrogance.”

 

“And?”

 

“James hasn’t exactly told her yet.”

 

“She thinks he isn’t a pure-blood? How is that even possible?”

 

“No, she knows that. She just thinks the Potters are pure-bloods like the Weasleys are pure-bloods.”

 

He never has liked being laughed at, but the sight of Sirius doubled over with laughter at his no-doubt scandalised face goes a long way towards making him change his mind.