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☩ ００８．ＶＩＤＥＯ | ＡＣＴＩＯＮ

[ Lucrezia is in one of the lounges! Sprawled on one of the sofas, fingers busy turning a pendent of gold in the shape of a sea-horse. There are no poems today, no joyful greetings, something is different. She looks more pensive than anything else but there is a shade of concern there as well as quiet annoyance.

When she speaks, her voice is devoid of any of it. Her eyes still focused on the sea-horse. ]

A riddle, Tranquility.

How to mourn for someone who does not deserve it?

If your duty demands it and you have no desire to - do all men need to be mourned for? Is it a a more grievous sin not to mourn than it is to speak false words of grievance?

[ a beat. ]

Perhaps I must fast again.

[ a moment later she puts down her necklace, smiles. ]

I would have a cup of wine with your answer, if any of you have some to spare. You will join me in the lounge.

[ and it is not a question. ]

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[ stop making her laugh, you. She takes it, inspects it for a moment before deciding it pleases her. ]

Pour us and I shall make a toast.

[One of the really great things about magic (of which there are many!) is that you don't need pesky things like bottle openers or corkscrews. Sirius taps his bottle with his wand and--pop!--out flies the cork, leaving him to pour into her cup first, and then his.]

What are we toasting?

To our youth.

[ she doesn't know why youth but it feels right. She lifts her cup, a smile on her lips. ]

To good humor and charming smiles and graceful dances.

[He laughs, and raises his cup to clink against hers.]

And pretty girls with blonde hair with the most charming smile of them all.

[And, toast said, he takes a sip and leans back.]

Now, what are you fasting from?

[ she takes a moment to take another sip and yet another before she replies. ]

Grief which I do not feel for someone who I was bound to.

[Well, that sounds like a very serious topic. And maybe should be avoided...]

Fasting from grief, how d'you fast from grief? By drinking wine?

It is not a very productive fast.

[ as should be for grief that she doesn't even feel. ]

I shall blame it on your terrible influence, Sirius Black.

I'm the terrible influence?

[He fixes her with a sceptical look over the top of his mug of wine.]

You're the one coercing people into bringing alcohol to you. If any of us are terrible influences, I think that it's you--fortunately, I happen to love terrible influences.

Shall I help you break your fast some more?

Sirius Black! You cannot accuse a lady of being a terrible influence, it is folly and you are in luck that I am fond of you.

[ she tries to sound serious but it mostly comes out through a chuckle. ]

Will you bring me a cake?

Can't I? Perhaps I am the bad influence after all--but I am so pleased to hear that you're fond of me, because I am very, very fond of you.

So fond that I will get you your cake. [He sits up again, and sets aside his cup to take up his wand once more.] Only one?

Only one. Will you really bring it to me? Can you magick a cake?

Ah, well, here's where magic gets knotty. I can't make a cake from magic, but I can summon one and you can eat it. Probably it will be a packet of cakes, unless someone has just left a handmade one lying about, which I sincerely doubt.

[He waves his wand, idly, a little like a baton.]

Will that work?

Yes.

[ she shifts in her seat, sips her wine. ]

I would see this -- magic cake.

Good.

[That's the right answer, and he grins at her before he raises his wand more decisively.]

Accio cakes!

[And he's got specific ones in mind, actually--these horribly wonderful little black-and-white cakes with white cream inside, two in a packet, kept in the cupboards of the kitchens. A man could eat fifty of those in a single sitting. So it's those that he Summons, and--

There's a moment, and then a distant bang, and Sirius smiles.]

We have to wait a bit. It's difficult to do the Summoning charm when there's lifts and things in the way-- [But then there's another loud BANG!, closer this time-- and a moment later, in come the cakes in their packet, whizzing overhead. They fall to the sofa, just beside Lucrezia.]

And there you are.

[ she looks overly curious as the bangs and the clatters are heard, wonders what in the name of God he's doing and then - cakes! She claps her hands, something between amazed and truly amused. ]

A wonder!

No, a cake!

[He corrects her cheerfully as he seizes on the packet and tears it open, offering her the first.]

A wonder cake, maybe--a wondrous Sirius, you could say that as well, I wouldn't mind hearing it. D'you want anything else, while I'm fetching things for you?

[ Impulsively, she bends her head, presses her lips to his cheek. ]

I would simply thank you.

[....wow. That's not fair. It's not as if Sirius doesn't get kissed--he gets kissed all the time! sometimes when he's not even looking to be kissed!--but this is Lucrezia, who is terribly pretty and a lady and all right, so he's not made of stone, it's a sweet little kiss, and he grins immediately.]

Oh, really. And is that how they thank people, where you're from? When can I move there?

It is! It is the Roman way to kiss both cheeks. Have you not heard?

[ she's not even making this up. ]

And you must never come to Rome! I fear what you would do there. With all the wine and the women who will surrender to your charms and all the long summer dance balls. A terrible idea.

No, hang on, I thought it was the French that did all the cheek kissing. And it's both cheeks anyways, isn't it, not just one.

[He's on to you, miss, you and your flirty cheek kissing!]

Ooh, yeah, but that all sounds horrible. There's nothing I hate more than wine and women surrendering to me. Do they wear lovely dresses, these women? Are they half as pretty as you?

Then you have not been to Rome, for it is common there too. I shall kiss your other cheek, if you shall request it.

[ hush hush, he likes it. She giggles into her cup/ ]

I am a vain creature, Sirius Black, I would not speak of their beauty but their dresses are divine.

Ah, well, that's very sweet of you, to compliment your dresses. But that's only because you could wear sackcloth and a length of rope and still look like a thousand galleons and outshine even the most divinely dressed, innit. I know you.

[And, expectantly, he turns his other cheek toward her, waiting for that kiss.]

Go on.

A sackcloth! I would not dare to prove you right, which would mean we would have to assume you are indeed correct.

[ and then she bends again, presses her lips to his cheek again; softer this time, a more affectionate gesture. ]

There. And my debt is paid.

[With a huge sigh, he flops back, collapsing right onto the floor like a puppet with all strings cut.]

And I can die happy. Oh, sweet Lucrezia, you are the best the best the best. I'd write you a poem but I'm crap at poetry, and also I'm dying happily now.

[ Sirius Black. She giggles, peeks at him from the edge of the couch. ]

How shall I revive you?

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