A story about love...
Darting out, his tongue savored the sweetness of the rain where it fell softly on her neck, drawing a moan from her lips. Her breath burst forth in pants, and her body trembled from the heat generated as he traced a tantalizing line along her delicate collarbone. The heavy drops fell, drenching them – cool against heated skin, bodies clinging passionately to each other against the wall of a forgotten alley in Paris.
Fervently he gripped the bottom of her damp robe, dragging it slowly up her smooth thighs, his fingers a light caress, causing heat to build within her. Leisurely he brought his mouth to hers, claiming her very soul, her lips opening to his invasion, and their tongues danced in tune to the falling rain. Languidly, her hands tangled in his blond hair, pulling him closer, and she felt his desire rising when he leaned into her.
With a slight movement of his wrist, all barriers were gone. Hiking her leg up around his waist, she gasped when he slid into her and leaned back with a moan. Her chestnut curls clung to her shoulders, and her fingers dug into the flesh of his buttocks as he moved in a steady, fluid rhythm. His thrusts became more frantic as his orgasm approached, and her guttural moans became elongated at her rising pleasure. Together their voices converged at fever pitch with one final, hard thrust, and they collapsed to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
Resting there, attempting to catch his breath, Lucius Malfoy reflected on how so many things had changed since the war and how he had come to need this scrap of a girl like he needed air to breathe. It could have happened differently – events in lifetimes past replaying themselves – but Trelawney had warned him about that, and for once, he had listened to the old bat. His mind drifted to happenings which had been out of their control some time ago.
Lucius frantically searched the thick brush surrounding them. He stood in the depths of the Forbidden Forest, stretched out his arms, and raised his head to the canopy above. "NO!" he shouted with anguish, the word ripped from his very soul. Before him, their eyes staring blindly up at nothing, were Narcissa and Severus. They had been taken by the Magical plague, Voldemort's final parting gift to the wizarding world before his demise.
Throwing himself down on top of them, he wept inconsolably, the sobs torn from his chest. Why? Why? he asked himself, tormented with the thought that they had left him behind and now he had no one: no reason to carry on with life, no one to conspire with, no one to love and love him in return.
Suddenly, he felt his body shake. Oh, Merlin! I thought it was over, the last of the plagued, dead, his thoughts penetrated through his tortured mind.
His body shook, harder this time, and some unknown force shoved his head back. Blinking rapidly, he found himself staring at indistinct, watery brown pools. Leaning back, Lucius realized they belonged to Sybill Trelawney, the seer from the school just beyond the trees.
"Good God, man, pull yourself together!" she told him forcefully, causing him to frown through his tears. "Come on. I have something you need to see."
Sniffing derisively, Lucius composed himself and stood, wavering a little from fatigue. "What do you want with me, witch? Can't you see I am in mourning, beyond consoling…?"
Gently nudging Lucius out of the way, Sybill bent over Severus and Narcissa, murmuring an incantation. Instantly, their bodies illuminated, and a glowing essence rose from Severus, swirling around Trelawney. Motioning for him to follow, Sybil disappeared into the thicket.
Hiccupping and rubbing a hand over his face, Lucius let out a pent-up breath and reluctantly followed the bushy-haired eccentric.
She led him through the trees and into a thatched hut, well hidden by vegetation. Inside, the air was incredibly warm and musty, and the scent of patchouli lingered like a blanket over the room. A thread-bare cot hovered in the corner, and a heavily draped, round table holding a large stone Pensieve occupied the center of the space.
Lucius flinched as his eyes fell on a boarhide rug lying in front of a blazing fire, crackling in exaggerated life.
"This century does not have to end like centuries before; you have not lost everything. Love waits for you in another; all you have to do is nurture it, and your soul – which has been drawn to hers – will be fulfilled, finally, in this lifetime," Trelawney's voice rasped.
Lucius ran his finger around his collar, the bright fire overheating the too-small room, and watched with trepidation as Sybil flicked her wand over the Pensieve. With ethereal grace, the essence of his friend floated into the stone bowl, then traveled up, consuming the seer.
Looking up, she made a choking sound, followed by Severus' voice, which flowed from her lips. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return," she said calmly, reaching out and grabbing Lucius by the shoulders.
The odd glow encircled him, and a strangled cry emerged from his mouth as he felt himself falling, spinning away from reality. The ground below traveled towards him faster as he fell, and he gasped for breath when it was knocked from him as he landed roughly on a dingy floor.
Shaking his head, Lucius regained his bearings and looked around the dark room. His eyes rested on Severus, whose lank hair fell limply around his face as his eyes followed an enchanted typewriter.
"Her mouth curved up in a sultry smile, and slowly, she extended her arm, beckoning with a single finger and prompting the man-who-lived to her side. He took her in his arms, bestowing loves sweetest kiss upon her lips." The keys clicked away in rapid succession. "BAH! That doesn't scream love to me!" Severus exclaimed to the room, yanking the page from the typewriter, pointing his wand at it and causing it to incinerate in a burst of flames.
Abruptly, Lucius and Severus looked to the ceiling as it gave way with a repulsive groan, depositing an unconscious man onto the dirty floor. A disgusted look crossed Lucius' face as he identified the sleeping man: Neville Longbottom.
Soon, a dwarf dressed as a nun, resembling Sirius Black, burst through the door. "Oh, hello! I am Marius Nigellus Regulus Cygnus Phineas Sirius Black! I am so tewwibwy sowwy; we were just wehearsing a play—"
"A play?" Severus asked enthusiastically, causing Lucius to look at him with one brow raised.
"Oh, yes! It is called Magnificent Magnificent! And it is set in Newfindwand!" Sirius explained excitedly.
"How is he?" A voice questioned from above. Looking up, Lucius saw three more faces he knew: Remus Lupin, Percy Weasley, and Harry Potter. Percy looked very agitated.
"Asleep again, ugh!" Motioning in frustration with his hands, Percy shook his head with disgust.
Twitching on the floor, the unconscious man snorted loudly but did not awaken. Looking down at him, Sirius explained, "My poor Argentinean fwiend has narcolepsy; he's always falling asleep – spouting sonnets with one breath, unconscious the next." He laughed through his nose.
"How are we ever going to be ready to pitch the play to the financier tomorrow if we don't have anyone to read the role of the whimsical, love-struck, goat herding wizard?" Percy questioned in exasperation, panting heavily.
"I still have to finish the music," Harry informed.
"What about you?" Remus asked Severus.
"Yes, yes, you would be perfect!" Pulling his wand from his sleeve, Sirius cast a levitation spell on the unconscious Argentinean and began moving him toward the hole in the ceiling. "Come on, Neville, time to sleep it off."
Once Neville was clear of the gaping hole, Remus took over the levitation of his body to a rumpled bed while Harry lowered a ladder through the hole, allowing Severus and Sirius to join them in the loft above. Lucius was pulled along as Severus traveled.
The space above Severus' room was cluttered with paint cans, scaffolding, and a giant mural of a mountain dotted with goats. There was a scratched and scarred piano in the corner, and every available surface was covered with dirty glasses. The other corner held a wide bed where Neville had been deposited.
Percy handed Severus a red hat with a green feather attached and a thick piece of parchment. "Put this on, stand up there and read the lines in red." He pointed to the top of a flight of stairs that had been erected in front of the mural and ended at the top of the mountain.
Studying the hat momentarily, Severus chuckled, jammed it on his head, and bounded up the stairs. At the top, he turned, held out the manuscript and read aloud. "The hills have such elusive decorum…."
"No, no, no. That isn't how the hills are!" Sirius picked up a script near him and flipped the page. "Ah, the hills are magical! They should be magical hills; he is a wizard after all."
"There are hills? I thought this was a mountain," Remus pondered.
"I thought they were filled with Nargles," Harry piped into the argument from the front of the piano. He fluttered the keys and sang, "The hills are green and they're filled with Nargles."
"The hills are confused if you ask me," Lucius muttered under his breath after rolling his eyes.
"Your music is covering my words. Just stick to lightly enhancing notes, please," Percy told Harry, looming over him superiorly.
Bolting upright suddenly, Neville added strongly, "The hills have sycophantic desires and tendencies!" He stopped abruptly and fell back, instantly asleep again.
"The hills are alive with the sound of music…" Severus sang from above them.
The brood of Bohemians in the room quieted, and all eyes turned to him. Sirius' eyes lit with approval while Percy's nostrils flared and his face turned red.
"With songs they have sung for a thousand years…."
"That is amazing!" Remus exclaimed. "You have described them perfectly."
"The hills are alive with the sound of music – I love it!" Neville exclaimed, awake once more.
"That's brilliant! You should help Percy write the show. Don't you think he should help you write the show?" Harry asked Percy excitedly.
Opening and shutting his mouth a few times, Percy blew out a long breath. "I know when I am not appreciated, and I most certainly do not need anyone to help me write the play. Goodbye!" Percy flounced out the door, slamming it behind him.
"Or not," Remus announced to the room. "Now what are we going to do?"
"Sevewus will help us; he will wite the show for the financier. We can finally put on the show we have always dweamed of!" Sirius exclaimed with excitement.
"Have you ever done anything like this before?" Harry asked.
Severus shook his head.
"But he has talent! That is all he needs. I like talent," Neville informed.
"But how are we going to get Slughorn to buy into it?" Harry asked sadly.
"I can get Hermione to meet with him – to hear it," Sirius explained, allaying their doubts. "We can tell her he is a famous English witer! I'm sure she will love it and insist that ol' Sluggy hear it."
The smile falling from his face, Severus pulled the hat from his head and tossed it aside, trotting down the stairs without saying a word. He then began back down the ladder from the loft before the motley crew could stop him.
"Where are you going?" Sirius took hold of his arm to slow his descent.
"I can't do this. I'm not even sure if I am a Bohemian revolutionary," Severus explained, prying his arm from Sirius' grasp.
"But your words are wonderful – do you believe in beauty?"
"Love?" They all asked Severus together.
"Love? Yes, above all things, I believe in love. Love is like oxygen, love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong – all you need is love!"
Laughing hysterically, Sirius shouted, "See! I told you you could do it! Your words tell the story of the wevolution! Where's the Dwagon's bweath?"
"Dragon's breath? What's that?" Severus inquired with a raise of his brow.
Looking at the darker man with shock, Sirius told him, "It is the most wondewful dwink ever cweated by wizards. You must twy it, for tonight we celebwate and tomorrow we twavel to the Magie Noir and you meet Hermione, my new bohemian fwiend!"
Setting cloudy glasses on the table they were huddled around, Remus poured light, fire-colored liquid into each glass, giving Severus a slight shove and a wink while he ignited the concoction with his wand. Each wizard threw back his head, swallowing rapidly and fell back into a dazed state.
Lucius simply stood over them, an appalled look upon his face. However, given his fresh wounds, he wished he could join them. Oblivion would feel wonderful.
A/N: This story was written for pokeystar on the LMHGexchange. The original prompt will be posted at the end of the story. My sincere thanks go to ladyinthecloak for her insight and help with all my endless questions, especially things beta. Also, I want to thank Sempra for betaing when she could, pointing out inconsistencies, and steering me in the right direction. OSUSprinks, thank you for cheering me on and convincing me that the ending needed something else. And, Pajamapants, thank you for calming me in the middle of a potential meltdown. Last, thank you, pokeystar, for the unequalled prompt. You ladies are truly an inspiration. ~Hugs, glomps, and squishes to you all.~
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, the artists own their songs, Baz Luhrman owns Moulin Rouge, but any similarities, real or fabricated, are intentional.