Terrible Deeds Suite

Stalling for Time

Remus was late. They were all late. Sirius swayed in place, moving to the driving beat of Club Garnet's music even though he wasn't near the door yet. He kept glancing back over his shoulder, expecting Peter, Remus, James, and Lily to join the queue any moment. Every few minutes, someone would leave, the bouncer would let a few new people inside, and the queue would inch forward.

Damn, he thought. Where the hell were they? If they didn't show up soon, he'd have to give up his place in the queue.

The bouncer looked up as a long black Rolls-Royce floated down amid the crowd. It was one of the exclusive wizard models, Sirius realised. People backed away from it to clear a space as it glided to a stop outside the club. The chauffeur hopped out and went round to the door to open it. A number of people climbed out gracefully, starting with two wizards a couple years older than Sirius in rich velvet robes, one in blue, the other in green. A young witch followed, her long, slim legs elegantly encased in sheer black stockings on which silver sequined snakes twined themselves. The snake on her right leg wrapped from her ankle to just above her knee, but as she rose with the assistance of her two companions, the one on her left leg slipped to the inside, hiding coyly under her silvery robes with their very high slit. The robes were low-cut and quite at the height of fashion, and several of the witches in the queue 'oohed' or looked quite jealous as she joined the two wizards. Next, another wizard stepped out of the limousine, and Sirius only barely stopped himself from gawking. The wizard was tall, thin, and very aristocratic, with an aquiline nose and pointed chin. He was wearing a short opera cape over a set of very finely tailored robes of a sumptuous brocade, fastened with a double row of buttons that gleamed as if made of faceted jewels. The robes flared out over a set of tight trousers made of the softest, finest brushed dragon-hide leather. The overall effect was cut like an eighteenth century riding coat and pants. To complete the outfit, he had lengthened his hair for the evening; the silver-blond curtain was tied back in a consciously careless queue ribbon. Sirius recognised him instantly: it was Lucius Malfoy. His wife, Narcissa, slid her legs out and stood in one fluid motion, one hand in his for support and no more. She, too, was dressed to kill, wearing deep red robes of watered silk that billowed and blossomed here and there as if the breeze caused the colours themselves to ripple and shift. Like Lucius's clothes, her robes had a form-fitted bodice and featured a full farthingaled, split skirt over a much shorter, tighter mini-skirt, calling attention to her long legs while also mimicking the eighteenth century effect. The deep red colour showed off her smooth, white skin and pale blonde hair, her swan-like neck and high cheekbones. If the other witch's outfit was the best of couture, Narcissa Malfoy's robes set the tone for next year's trends. There was no doubt that Witch Weekly was correct when it recently voted the Malfoys England's most beautiful couple. Several people screamed with joy and none too few whipped out cameras. The flash bulbs blazed across the small alley as witches and wizards snapped pictures.

The five of them swept through the waiting crowd and into the club. The bouncer practically fractured his own wand trying to back people away from the door quickly enough to allow the Malfoy party free entry.

Ruddy hell, thought Sirius. The one time he convinced James and Lily to come out with him, Remus, and Peter, and the bloody Malfoys had to choose the same club.

The limousine lifted off again, gliding silently upward for a second or two before winking out of sight and, presumably, zooming off in search of a place to wait. Sirius was still staring up in awe at the place it had been, deciding he had to install that invisibility booster on his motorbike, when he heard Peter call out to him.

'Oy! Sirius!' Peter trotted into the queue next to him. 'Where is everyone?'

'Dunno," Sirius shrugged. 'You just missed a sight, though.' He explained briefly.

'Wow,' Peter agreed.

'Yeah, but now, James won't want to go in. If he even shows up,' he added grumpily.

'Who says I'm not showing up?' James said in Sirius's ear.

Sirius jumped, though whether it was from surprise at James's sudden Apparation next to him, or from the solid goosing he received from Lily, he wasn't sure.

'Watch it!' he rounded on Lily sternly, wagging a finger. 'Or I know a werewolf who'll have your hide.'

'Aw,' Lily pouted, 'can't a married woman have any fun anymore?'

'Yes,' James said, stepping between them, looking territorial. 'With your husband!'

They all laughed, and James and Lily kissed. Sirius and Peter looked away politely. Within a few more minutes, Remus arrived, and Sirius briefed them all quickly.

'So if you still want to go, it's up to you, but fair warning. Malfoys lie within.'

Lily spoke first. 'Well, I don't know about you, but I didn't come here to see the Malfoys. I came to see The Copper Knuts. Let's stay, it can't be that bad.'

With shrugs and a few grimaces, they pressed on. Half an hour (and ten Galleons) later, the bouncer opened the door for them, and they were in.

The music blasted with a rhythm and rock that had them stamping to the beat whether they wished to do or not. They pushed past the crowd waiting in front of the bar, forgoing drinks at the sight of yet another impossibly long queue. After edging around the two fires (one for TelCal powder, the other for people to Floo themselves home), Lily pulled James ahead in an effort to make it to the dance floor, while Peter dove after a witch he knew to ask her to dance. A few trick flyers executed synchronised broomstick dancing above their heads.

'Should have brought my broom!' James told Lily as he watched them twist and dip in midair.

'What's that? I thought we were only supposed to have fun with each other now, oh Husband,' Lily rolled her eyes and pulled him close to move in rhythm. They disappeared in the crowd.

'Where were you?' Sirius asked Remus, face to face and alone with him for the first time since that morning.

'Sorry,' Remus smiled shyly. 'I was in the library, you know. Research. Trying to prepare a lesson plan for the French Ministry Ambassador's son.'

'Lost track of time?' Sirius confirmed. Remus nodded.

Leaving aside for the moment that Remus had been developing an increasingly odd habit of 'losing track of time' lately, Sirius broke into a grin. 'Well, I'm just glad you found it again. Give us a kiss?' and he tried to pull Remus toward him.

'Sirius!' Remus swatted him and regarded him sharply. 'Not in public,' he admonished, looking around uncomfortably.

'Moony, who's looking?' Sirius whined at him, but Remus crossed his arms over his loose robes and shook his head.

'You know the rules,' he said implacably.

Sirius held up his palms in mock surrender. He sidled around his partner toward the bar, and leaned in so he didn't have to shout over the music. 'I know how to get you to bend them....' he taunted.

'Twat.' Remus blushed and relented, giving Sirius a very quick peck before taking his hand to find Lily, James, Peter, and the witch Peter had asked to dance.

After several songs, Remus said he was going to the loo and he left them, escaping, Sirius noticed, just as the band struck up a slow love ballad. The Malfoys, he was happy to see, had mostly stuck to their table, but glancing back at the circle of hangers-on and wannabes crowded round them, Sirius saw the witch in the silver robes dancing languidly with the wizard in blue. At that moment, Lucius rose and took his wife's hand, and they glided onto the floor themselves. There was no other word for it; neither one seemed to make any moves that weren't smooth and sylph-like. Sirius figured they must have cast a spell on themselves for the occasion, as no one other than ghosts moved so seamlessly.

He drifted to the edge of the dance floor, feeling silly standing there without Remus to dance with him. What was wrong with Moony, anyway? Lately he'd been growing more distant, as if their newfound physical relationship somehow meant they couldn't be friends anymore. It confused and frightened Sirius. Had he done something wrong already? Was Moony hiding something - someone else? Did he just feel that he had to have some secret life that Sirius wasn't part of? Was there some other reason? Sirius couldn't put his finger on the problem.

The song ended, and so did the set. The performers took a break to much applause, the lights got a bit brighter, and there was a rush for the lavatories and the bar. Peter suggested they take advantage and find a table somewhere. He was now on his third witch of the evening, whom he introduced as April Calendar, and this time, it looked like he might score. She was quite pretty, in a normal sort of way - not at all dazzling like Mrs Malfoy, or vivacious like Lily, but sweet and refreshingly down to earth after all the glamour of the celebrity splash a few tables away.

They talked of little things: Lily and James's upcoming anniversary, Peter's job, April's sisters (May and June, cruelly enough) and their plans to open a little salon, Quidditch of course, and Sirius's desire to all go to Blackpool again that summer. James was all for it, but Peter, who hated amusement rides, and Lily, who was indifferent, saw no reason to go back to a park that was overpriced, overcrowded, and only had Muggle rides, anyway.

'We'll let Remus decide it, then,' Sirius announced. Then he realised that Remus had not found them at the table yet. 'Where is Remus?' he asked them all.

'Maybe he's still in queue for the toilet,' Peter observed sagely.

'Or maybe... no, I don't see him at the bar,' Lily offered.

The band walked back out on the stage and re-tuned their instruments. The lights dimmed, taking on a reddish-orange glow for effect as they opened with the creepy, "Hallow's Eve."

Sirius stood. 'I'm going to look for him.'

'Sirius, he's a big boy, he can look after himself,' James called after him, but Sirius was already down the short flight of stairs and crossing the dance floor toward the loos.

No queue waited in the vestibule outside the twin doors. In the furnished anteroom, his own face looked back at him from the mirrored wall, but no one else used it to check his robes or hair. He pushed open the inner door and it echoed against the tile floor.

There was no one here, either. He stepped inside... to look nervously at the empty cubicles... Wait. The furthest one had a closed door. Acutely aware that he was breaking every rule of men's room etiquette, Sirius tip-toed toward the closed stall. He was about to turn round, feeling an utter fool, when a pair of strong hands grasped his shoulders and pushed him up to the wall.

'Hey!' he grunted, going for his wand automatically. But another set of hands pinned his arms.

'Hold him,' a voice ordered. 'Impedimenta!'

Sirius felt like he was trying to move through a wall of molasses. The two pairs of hands had no trouble holding him still, when he could barely even tell if he was still standing. He had lost feeling in his legs as well. A third person moved up behind him, forcing his head toward the stall, away from the mirror where he could see his attacker.

'You're late,' a smooth, sophisticated accent told him in a slithering tenor range. 'We've been waiting for you.'

'What?' Sirius tried to say. 'You've got the wrong--'

'Silencio,' the voice incanted lazily, and Sirius's words died on his lips. 'Oh, no, my boy. You're just what we ordered.'

A strong, long-fingered hand reached for his belt and plucked the wand off it, tossing it aside. The same hand pushed up his robes with a little assistance from his accomplices where he had to work the robes over their supporting hands.

'Finite Impedimentus,' the voice hissed, and Sirius felt a slim, cool pressure on his legs. Then feeling flowed back, time returned to normal speed, and he almost fell again from the pins and needles stabbing his feet, ankles, knees. He screamed yet made no sound. The driving music was muffled through both doors and the thick walls, but its pounding beat matched his pulse and he couldn't tell which sound flooded his head more completely.

'Spread him, and make damn sure that door is locked. Put the cleaning sign out,' the voice now commanded. One set of hands went away, but his attacker pressed him more firmly to the blank spot of wall between towel dispenser and stall. 'You just do as you're told,' the tenor said through clenched teeth.

The second accomplice came back and took up his post again. Their leader must have put his wand away, for Sirius suddenly felt the sixth hand slide up inside his boxer shorts and caress almost lovingly. Almost. Sirius tried craning his neck to look back, but had his temple slammed into the wall for his effort. Pain came in swirls, and he saw stars instead of the faces of his assailants.

'I said, do as you're told, or I'll blind you as well. Not temporarily, either.' He hissed again, this time with satisfaction, as he pulled down Sirius's shorts and sought the ring of flesh. He pressed Sirius open wider with one knee. Sirius recognised the brushed feel of fine dragon leather, skin-tight, encasing his attacker's leg. Hardness higher in those trousers pressed against the crease of his buttocks, rubbing a few times, then withdrawing. Unfastening his fly, Sirius thought with frightening lucidity, and he struggled once more against what he knew was about to happen.

'Fight all you want, it will just take longer,' the leader observed with a sad little sigh. 'Dear me, boys, these toys these days. They just don't understand. Fortunately, I like to play with my prey.' He said this last in a menacing whisper. A finger, two fingers, and then - another eerie, silent scream - Sirius was torn apart, skewered by his rapist like a mutton leg on a spit. The force of thrust upon thrust jammed him into the cold tile wall. He could hear the evil laughter on either side of him as his attacker's partners watched from their positions, holding him steady under the assault. The noise outside faded, and the world narrowed to six hands, the wall, his assailant's breath on his neck....

On each thrust, Sirius's robed rucked up further, exposing more of his back to his captors. As the robe climbed higher, his back scraped against something hard and sharp. Buttons. Jewel-faceted buttons. Dragon-hide trousers.... He knew. He knew who it was. He could never prove it. Could he?

At long last, Lucius Malfoy finished with him. He stood back, a fact that Sirius only recognised by the sudden rush of cold air between his legs, followed shortly by a sickening feeling as Lucius's fluids oozed out of him, mingled no doubt with Sirius's own blood. Sirius heard the faucet and guessed that he was washing himself.

It was a short-lived respite. Each of the others had their turn, quickly, efficiently, as if they understood that their second and third helpings had to be more rushed than their leader's. Lucius did not help them, but lit a joint and smoked it, watching the show. Sirius could smell the toke as they passed it, but was too angered and shamed to take any respite from the secondary fumes.

When both of the others - they had to be the wizards in velvet who accompanied the Malfoys - finished, they cast the Full-Body Bind on him so they could clean themselves up. Lucius said, 'Mobilicorpus' and Sirius saw the wall move. He floated into the far stall, his weight pushing the door open, and then he was set down, still stiff as a board, in the corner, wedged between the pipes and the wall. The stall door slammed shut, and locked on its own. He heard them leave, laughing with each other, and tears of frustration spilled down his face. He couldn't even wipe them away.

By the time the spells wore off, someone had come in, found his wand, and taken it to the bar for Lost and Found. James, Peter, and Remus had all come looking for him at least once, and the janitor, a Squib everyone called Emerson, had been sent to undo the jammed stall door. Sirius recovered from the curses just as Emerson entered, and he Apparated into the anteroom to avoid discovery.

'Where have you been?' Remus asked when Sirius made it back to the table. He had got his wand first and cast a healing charm on himself in a dark corner of the club. The Malfoys were long gone, and the show was almost over.

'I went to look for you,' Sirius said. 'We must have just missed each other.'

'Well, you missed a hell of a show, too,' James told him with a quizzical look.

'Yeah, I doubt I'll ever forgive myself,' was all Sirius could bring himself to say.

~*~Fin~*~