Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty

The creeping cold licked his aching fingers; there was a mist tonight. The desolate figure whipped back his matted hair and looked out into the closing twilight. The night was always so peaceful, so beautiful, and yet so lonely. How he longed to once again be embraced by human arms, and gentle kisses.

His dreams were fevered with the image of soft pink lips, of blonde hair flowing down, shielding those flitting eyes. He imagined raising his rough hands, and pushing aside that hair and gazing upon that beautiful forgotten face.

Every night he would stretch out his hand, reach and unfurl his stiff fingers, touch the forbidden white curtain of softness. And just as the face was being revealed, that clean fair skin, those soft pink lips, he would wake. Shivering. Huddled into the corner, shaking in that damned winter chill. He would hold himself, try to gather body heat, and desperately search his subconscious for the rest of that beautiful face.

The morning would come again, and with it another day to struggle through. His joints were stiff. A hard stone bed made a soul weary. But transfigured, he would plod towards the distant castle, a new day, but it was always the same. He must see the young boy, his charge. He had made it so far, he urged his paws to travel that bit further.

Sometimes he would collapse in the dense woodland around. Deprived of nutrition and of help, the only thing that got him through the night was the chance to see the boy again in the sunlight, and the only thing that made him fight through the day was the chance to finally see his mysterious love. Doubled over from starvation pain, he knew he could walk that extra path, if only he was given a chance to see the face.

Under the cover of the forest he was man again, and would spy from the safe protection of the thicket. He was back at Hogwarts. This was the place that Sirius felt safe.

Ahead of him was a rustling, the outline of a hooded figure. Another spy? Did someone know that he was here? He would not let anyone find out that he was desperately trying to remain concealed in the obvious refuge.

The countryside was swamped with Dementors and Death Eaters and the odd self-thought hero searching for him. He was sure that he would be safe during the day in this part of the forest; it had taken him months to find this spot safe from intrusion. He had been discovered.

He acted instinctively. Raised his hand and struck down the hooded figure. He fell, suddenly and with a great dead weight force. Sirius rolled over the body and stared at amazement at the vision before his eyes. It was the face from his haunting dreams. But it was a Malfoy. The older Malfoy lay beaten on the forest floor at his feet, elegantly gathering windswept dirt.

Sirius' legs left him, silently crumbling. He was on the floor next to this horrendous revelation at his inner psyche. Surely it wasn't happening, wasn't real. But this was not another hallucination. This was true. The lines of his face were the same and the vision came back and was for the first time revealed completely. Lucius...

A gasp escaped from Sirius' mouth. What was he supposed to do now?

Cradling the fallen man, Sirius wondered in horror at the revelation that his secret desire was pure evil; a man, a Death Eater, a heart of stone. His coarse hands smoothed away stray hairs from Lucius' brow. Soft skin. He marvelled at the difference between the two textures, contrasts. The harsh worn palms, next to the deathly pale human velvet.

Long ago Sirius had discovered his affections for those of the same sex, only James had known and entertained this notion. But Azkaban had left plenty time for thinking, for contemplating. Now he knew that his dreams had been plagued by a man, a magnificent man; but no! Sirius would not let himself be brought down to thinking that a Malfoy had any redeemable qualities. Even if this Malfoy smiled to his heart.

Sirius traced the line of Lucius' mouth. He raised his index finger to his own, pursed lips, and back to Lucius passed a soft sign of lucid affection. This could not be the one whom he had been dreaming of for so many months. Yet, holding him seemed so real and so right. In his heart he knew that this was wrong, but for now Sirius was living for the moment.

The blond head was placed back on the forest floor where it had fallen to, but this time was supported by a bundle of leaves. Sirius stood over the body he had attacked and somehow, slowly and suddenly, fallen in love with. Why was he always challenged by, and connected somehow to what he viewed as evil?

This was the type of man Sirius' mother would entertain when he was young.

He had seen them so many times, coming and going at all hours of the day and night. His mother's screeching periodically telling him to go away and mind his own business. He admired them. They had what he always wanted; the love of his mother. Sirius knew she was a wanton and terribly wicked witch but he lived in regret of never achieving her love.

This man could have her affections - this beautiful, evil man. What did he have that Sirius' did not? Did he know magic beyond his imagination? Did he give off an aura? Was he perfection?

Sirius still kneeling beside the figure, leaned down, and left a kiss on Lucius' brow. The man was still unconscious. He tasted sweet. A moment later and lips where joined, pressed together from above. Sirius was reminded of an old muggle fairy story he had heard, of sleeping beauty awakened by a kiss. Or did he taste bittersweet? The sinewy lines of Lucius' body called to his primal urges. No, he tasted like poison, fabulous poison. He would be willing to die for another chance to swallow this sin. Then what of Harry? He must think, regain sense.

Was it his imagination playing cruel games again, or had Lucius stirred? Did an eye twitched? Sirius afraid of exposure backed away into the dense forest, transfiguring again into the black dog. He ran with a new energy back to his hide-away. He was in disbelief at his actions. He had caressed the fallen Malfoy, and probably would do the same again if ever given the chance.

Desperate in the corner, trying hard to forget, Sirius wept. Had Azkaban made him crazy? It was not rational to so quickly accept an enemy as a love, although the dreams had attacked and excited him for months. There it had been, another crazed view into the inner boy, afraid and wishing for love. He tried hard to bury it, lose it, in his subconscious. As soon as he was able he would destroy that fitful memory. He felt deep shame, but a stronger regret he hadn't gazed longer on that magnificent face.

Lucius woke fully. He cupped his face into his palms and blinked. Bringing his palms down and over his face he paused with fingertips on his lips. An uncertain grimace crept across his brow. His memory was hazed, but he was sure that he had spotted the wanted man in the undergrowth. He knew Sirius was around somewhere; and a smile escaped knowing the Dark Lord would be pleased with him. Still many thing remained unclear, such as what had really happened and why was there was an unpleasant taste to his mouth...