Red Rabbit.
Red Rabbit.
The amazed crowd had continued to praise the new star but this time with heaps of flowers delivered to the crowded door of Sirius’ dressing room.
Sirius, along with James and the stage boy Peter, were trying to ignore it. The boys sat in a circle taking turns smoking an expensive cigar Peter had stolen from the new owners office. Sirius held it the majority of the time, as Peter only liked the smaller ones that came from tourists pockets and James only enjoyed them in moderation. Despite this the small group had to stifle their laughter.
They had already spent an unfortunate time commenting about the room like silly school girls. The green and black marble wallpaper was overwhelming and the gold furniture burned into the corners of their eyes. An obnoxiously detailed portrait of Regulus and his parents sat in the corner along with tall stacks of boxes. In the few minutes Sirius had looked around he already found piles of books hidden behind them.
James had changed out of his dancer costume into normal clothes, his hair rustled into a mess. Peter still wore his stage hand clothes, which were still covered in rope dust. And Sirius had managed to take off his cape and accessories but still wore the suit.
As much as Sirius enjoyed the applause and cheers of the crowd he did enjoy the quiet. The feeling of being just another dancer to his friends. Being equal to them again. To just be in their presence and not worry about what they thought of his dazzling costume.
“I do wish I was a dancer.” Peter stated.
Sirius rolled his eyes. Peter had as much balance as a fish on a tightrope.
“Well if you spent all your time in tights where would we get such delicious treats?” James responded, gesturing to the cigar.
“Well I'd trade watching Sirius smoke those nasty things for not tying the same rope seven different times.” Peter spat, holding a hand up to show off his blisters.
“Oh we are playing those games now?” James defended, reaching down to pull off his shoes.
Peter grabbed a nearby pile of fabric and threw it over James' legs. “Lets not. I really don't-”
“James, do you think that The Madam will let me sleep past sunrise?” Sirius interrupted, taking the attention away from Peter.
James glanced at Sirius, trying to read him. “Fat chance. Unless you find a way to disappear into your bed sheets she’ll probably still make you dance. Even the star can't escape her eyes.”
“Well then I take that as a challenge.” Sirius teased.
“Good. I won't have to hear you crying about how your head hurts.” James laughed.
Peter rolled his eyes slightly, fidgeting with his shirt button.
Sirius brought the cigar to his lips in order to hide his glare. Peter was roped into the group by James, who felt back for him. Sirius never really understood why but he befriended him the best he could. And they had grown close over the years, but Sirius still found parts of Peter nearly unbearable.
A moment of awkward silence followed. Neither Sirius or Peter planned on saying anything and James was too busy focusing on a random speck of dust in front of him. So Sirius, too stubborn to be the first to pander, let the moment drag on. The smoke flowed out his mouth like a waterfall and filled the perfumed air. He stared at the red rose, its stem tied with an elegant black ribbon, that sat in the center of their circle. The group had found it placed in the center of the vanity and James insisted it was from the opera ghost. “The real owner.” James claimed.
It had only just occurred to him that the smell of cigars was now going to linger in the dressing room. Regulus' old dressing room. He hated cigars or smokers. He loved to preach that they were designed to kill people slowly. That was of course what was so appealing to Sirius at first, but now he just liked to claim that came with it.
So he puffed the cigar harder. Just in case Regulus came back.
A knock interrupted his final blow and he scrambled to put the cigar away out. James and Peter jumped up quickly and hurried to the small door behind the dress model. Peter threw himself in first, not noticing he pushed James into the wall, who gave Sirius one last glance before closing the door.
Sirius pushed the cigar behind a small chest and threw himself into the grand vanities chair.
He could hear loud conversation outside his door and smell the flowers lingering.
The new owners' voices were hiding in the mix and they seemed overjoyed by the attention, even if it wasn't meant for them.
As he was trying to listen in on their words the door creaked open.
He expected The Madam but instead it was her.
Mary McDonald.
In her signature red color dress and lips. Her curly hair springing out around her head, her dark skin glowing, and fan dangling off her delicate wrist. Her smile, even brighter than before, shined back at Sirius. She had only grown more beautiful over the year.
“Oh Mr. Noble where is my lipstick?” She asked.
Sirius smiled back at her, putting his hand on his chin. “Oh madam. I am not Noble and I do not know where your lipstick is.”
“Oh but I must find it. All the trouble it has caused? When we were ten and you snatched it out of my pocket..”
“And then later fed it to your rabbit.”
The two chuckled, exchanging wide smiles. Sirius stood up and gestured for a hug.
“Is it not appropriate for such a high man of honor to embrace a lady?” She joked.
“And how long do you think it's been since I've left that idea behind?”
Mary snickered and wrapped her arms around him. He could smell her perfume in her hair and feel her heartbeat against his chest. It was a familiar feeling but distant and heavy at the same time. He’d never really thought about her after he came here. The painful piano lessons or how he fed her lipstick to her Rabbit (which caused Sirius to call her the Red Rabbit). He hadn’t really thought about how their last conversation ended. Just another thing Walagba ruined.
He felt bad for not thinking of her of course but eight years he hadn't seen her. He didn't know where she was or even who he might have become. And if he was being truthful to himself he didn't want any connections to his past. That's why in a selfish way he hated Regulus being at his new home.
But Sirius pushed those thoughts aside. He was not going to dwell on those thoughts when she was in front of him.
She pulled away, adjusting her gloves, and sighed. “I was quite thrilled when I saw you up on that stage. Certainly piano did not follow after your leave.”
Sirius laughed, pushing his hair back. “No. I never was a fan of them… How did you find me? Was it a coincidence?”
“Well I…” Mary hesitated, looking down at her shoes. When she looked back up her brow was furrowed slightly. “Truthfully I've come into the opportunity to sponsor the new owners. But I made the decision because I heard your brother was here. I thought it was odd, your parents never really seemed to want either of you to drift far from them. And you never seemed far from him. So when I saw you on the stage instead…”
Sirius tried to keep his face unfazed. She had really come for Regulus. Had she been truly disappointed when she did not see him?
“Well I'm sure if you wanted to speak with him you could ask the owners.” Sirius spoke.
Confusion crossed Mary's face. “I did not say- What I meant was… I'm glad you were on the stage instead. I wanted to see you.”
Butterflies filled Sirius’ stomach. “Well then I'm glad I was there as well.”
The two laughed and Mary sat on the couch behind her. “The green and gold is quite a rich look.” She gestured her eyes to the room's walls and decor.
“Regulus was fond of it. I'd rather have another color. Maybe after a few shows they will let me change it.”
“And what would you change it to?”
“Red. Maroon, Ruby, Crimson, maybe Carmine.” Sirius prompted.
Mary smirked, fanning herself gently. “Any particular reason?”
No. Sirius did really like the color red. But that was also Mary's color, so in a way yes. Not that he minded. He enjoyed having things in common with… friends.
“You might recall a Rabbit?” Sirius prompted.
The red rabbit. When after a piano lesson Mary's lip stick fell out her pocket, Sirius tried to bring it to her house to return it. When he was welcomed in there was a rabbit in a cage. And it looked hungry, so Ten year old Sirius fed the rabbit the lipstick. And its mouth was covered in it. So Mary was “The Girl With The Red Rabbit” then she took on the name “Red Rabbit” when it died (possibly due to the lipstick).
“The Red Rabbit. My Red Rabbit.” Mary teased. “I'm surprised you remember that. I had my rabbit and you have goblins in your walls.”
“You remember that too…”
“And you would ask yourself: Am I fonder of Piano or Dinner Parties?
“The sandwiches on walks.” Sirius recalled.
“Your talks of music played in your halls.”
“And now new kinds of music echo the halls. Even more beautiful. An angle of music sings songs in my head.” Sirius whispered, clearly carried away in excitement.
Mary raised an eyebrow slightly and lifted the corner of her mouth. “An angle…”
“An Angle of Music sings songs in my head…” The two whispered together, almost in melody.
“Mary, when my cousin came to find me, she claimed she’d send an angel. Well she died a couple years ago and it is here.” Sirius explained.
Mary chuckled. “Well I have no doubts about it. And what did this angel say to you?”
“It taught me to sing.”
“And how long has this angel been singing for you?” Mary asked.
“Not long.”
“Then it's quite a miracle then? For your voice to carry so far after such short training?”
“I suppose so. Though I notice your gaze lingered at the piano so I assume you're still playing? Maybe you could play for me?”
Mary blushed, looking down at the floor. “Maybe I could capture your interest another time. Perhaps instead we could go to supper?”
Sirius’ heart fluttered. Partly due to the guilty air conjured by the improperness of him not asking her, but also because he wanted this moment from the moment he laid eyes on her again.
“Allow me to extend an apology for not asking sooner.” Sirius offered.
“And allow you to take away the pleasure of witnessing the shock on your face? No. I'm perfectly capable. Though I do expect a kiss on the hand as an apology.” Mary teased.
Sirius smiled. He wondered if this was what James felt when he saw that Evans girl. He'd have to apologize later for calling him dramatic later.
He was more than happy to accept the offer, and he was stepping forward to do so when a small breeze touched the back of his neck. Similar to the one in the chapel.
It was the angle.
So he stepped back. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to accept at a different time. You see, the angle is very strict.”
Mary lifted a skeptical eyebrow and stood up. “Sirius Black when have you been one to take orders?”
The breeze blew again. “Mary-.”
“I shall not keep you up late.”
“But the angle-”
“Ten minutes Sirius. I'll fetch my coat then you can walk me under the bright moon.” Mary stated, turning to reach the door.
“Mary really-” Sirius called.
But Mary had already shut the door.
Sirius pushed his hair back in confusion.
The angle is very strict. He thought.
“Angle of music I speak please listen.” He called, almost musically.
The chill full breeze danced across the back of his neck once again.
“Your voice alone has brought me here. But please, don't hold hatred if I miss one night's dream.” Sirius asked.
The wind did not answer, though Sirius waited. But after a moment he decided he would go with Mary.
So he carefully took off his costume, putting it back on the manikin. He grabbed a pair of pants out of a box Madam Elfie had brought him and along with a crisp white shirt and elegant dark brown vest. His jacket, though old and well worn, hung on his arm.
He brushed his hair quickly with a comb and pushed it back. It had grown to his shoulders over the spring and was starting to curl slightly again.
When he was satisfied with the result he straightened his vest and went to the door.
But that was when he heard it. Just as his hand brushed the door handle.
The melody. But this time louder, more booming, more violent.
Insolent girl!
This slave of fashion,
basking in your glory!
The angles voice carried in the room, echoing once again. Sirius felt it in his chest, his bones, and his head.
Ignorant fool!
This brave young suitress,
sharing in my triumph!
Sirius swallowed, he had never heard the angel speak like this. So… loud. Sirius lifted his voice, crying out to the angle:
Angel! I hear you!
Speak - I listen . . .
stay by my side, guide me!
Angel, my soul was weak -
forgive me . . . enter at last,
Master!
The tension in the room lifted and Sirius' chest loosened.
Flattering child,
you shall know me.
The Angle seemed calm. It was almost comforting to Sirius. To hear such a cherished voice that accompanied Sirius for so long. Sung to him in the night when he could not sleep.
But the Angle was not done, and its voice carried again.
See why in shadow
I hide!
Look at your face
in the mirror -
I am there
Inside!
Sirius’ eyes drifted toward the mirror and there, in the dark, a figure appeared.
It was tall, taller than Sirius, and wore a dark black suit. It fit the creature nicely and a cape hung from its shoulders. In its chest pocket was a red rose, similar to the one Sirius had found earlier. And its hair, brown, curled, and fluffy, framed its face. But that was where Sirius noticed it.
One side of the face had a strong jaw and creamy brown eyes. But the other side was covered in a white mask with carved features of a furrowed brow.
But it was enchanting. It held out a gloved hand to Sirius, stretching through the mirror.
And just as before, in the dead of lonely nights, Sirius’ voice carried him away.
Angel of Music!
Guide and guardian!
Grant to me your
glory!
Sirius walked forward towards the mirror, towards the strange creature. His body felt weightless, as though he was being pulled to the mirror. A mist of helplessness surrounded him, capturing him. And has he got closer to the breathtaking creature he realized… It was a man. But he was captivated. He couldn't stop walking. Did he really want to?
Angel of Music!
Hide no longer!
Come to me, strange
Angel…
And then it spoke, HE sang.
I am your Angel ...
Come to me: Angel of Music …
There was a knock at the door. A voice.
“Sirius? Sirius are you alright? Who is in there?” It was Mary.
But Sirius could not hear her. He only, in that moment, heard the angle.
I am your Angel ...
Come to me: Angel of Music …
His hand still reached out, begging Sirius to take hold of it. Gloved skin begging for the warmth of another human. And as Sirius reached the edge of the mirror, one step away from another world, he held his own hand out. Letting it hover above the masked man's gloved skin.
Sirius had been watching the Angles eyes sense revealing himself, but in this moment he truly looked at them. The creamy brown, flicked with gold and fire. Inhuman.
I am your Angel ...
Come to me: Angel of Music …
Sirius caught his breath, feeling the cold air fill his lungs. Feeling the Angles eyes watch his every move. And then he laid his hand in the angles.
The angel grasped his Sirius hand firmly, and his other hand lifted up to the side of Sirius face, brushing the bottom of his now messy hair.
And Sirius let the Angle pull him. He let the angle take him into another world.
A world of song.