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Serendipity and the fallen seraphim	By : Gemma Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1373 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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I remember gazing upon him with fresh, older and intelligent eyes. Walking down the corridors of Hogwarts my steps made rhythmical beats on the smooth wooden floor, my robes billowing behind me due to my fast pace. Rounding the corner I smiled tightly at a fellow pupil before continuing my journey, determined not to be late.

Finally I reached the steps that led to the dungeons, and quickening my pace I descended into the noticeably colder lower level. Absentmindedly pushing back a stray lock of hair, I tugged down the length of my sleeves so that they fell halfway over my hands, protecting my skin from the chill air.

Passing the potions classroom I continued on until I reached a large wooden door the colour of burnt oak, and after pausing for a second to steady my breathing, I raised a hand and knock firmly, waiting patiently for the call to enter. When it came I turned the large brass handle and stepped into the warmly lit study.

Professor Snape was standing to greet me as I entered, his thin lips drawn up in a small smile.
"Miss Phoenii, thank you for being prompt."
"Of course, professor." My tone was respectful, too used to Snape now for his brusque demeanour to irritate me.

It was as I moved my eyes away from the dour, sombre-dressed professor to take in the room, that I noticed a tall man standing slightly in the shadows of the corner.
I recognised him instantly, only a little surprised to see him here.
"Mr Malfoy, it's a pleasure to meet you once again." I stretched out a hand, stepping forwards, my eyes trained on his face, part of me willing him to step into the light so that I could see him clearly.

Lucius Malfoy moved out into the light as if obeying my silent command, his long platinum hair catching the glow of the lamps and shining in a myriad of colours. Who knew there could be so very many variations of white and platinum?

His long, pale fingers reached out from the depths of his black, elegant robes, wrapping around my hand and shaking it firmly. I almost glanced at his shoulders to see if pure white wings were held gracefully against his long, straight spine.
"Why Serendipity Phoenii, you have changed greatly since the years we met last."

I nodded, the smile remaining on my face.
"Yes. Though, if you don't mind my saying so, you have barely changed at all Mr Malfoy. You are just as I remember."

A low chuckle rose from the depths of Lucius' throat.
"Why would I mind such a compliment? Though surely I look older, it has been nearly 12 years."

I cocked my head as I still remembered him doing all those years ago, and allowed my eyes to roam over his body before settling once more on his face. He was just as tall as I remembered and under the calculating gaze of an 18-year-old young woman with a keen mind and a sharp wit, he was still just as handsome and arrogant.

His skin was still the colour of ivory, though I noticed fine lines traced the skin around his mouth and eyes. Somehow they only made him seem distinguished, and though I knew him to be in his forties, I would have placed him in a lower age group. The mixture of arrogance, elegance, uncanny grace and all-pervading sense of power and self-worth, made Lucius Malfoy seem timeless.

In the glow of the firelight I saw once again the seraphim from my picture book which I had first seen so many years ago, and I smiled. Fallen angel indeed.
"You are quite unchanged, though I am sure much has happened to you as it has to me in the time that has passed."

I kept my voice light and respectful, knowing that not only is Lucius Malfoy a close acquaintance of my father, but also that he is an influential man within The Ministry and Magic and other less positive groups if my suspicions are correct. Sensing that this man is a lithe, powerful predator, his gaze pointed and all-encompassing, his hands so full of strength, his touch like the forbidden kisses that Lucifer promises to the tormented souls who reach for his shifting, seductive power.

Lucius nodded sombrely, his eyes on mine, and looking into them I could so easily see why all those years ago I had considered them 'blazing' and saw an angel where a powerful man stood instead.

I turned back to Professor Snape, taking in his obsidian eyes, the lines etched around them and the grey pallor of his skin. He looked strained, exhausted, though this was always his usual appearance.
"Miss Phoenii, I have your paper from last week."

I nodded, a smile still gracing my lips. Professor Snape strode to his desk, retrieving my r anr and handing it to me with a tight-lipped smile.
"It was excellent. Very well researched. A good job as per usual, Miss Phoenii."

I tilted my head, feeling as a lock of dark hair brushed softly across my cheekbone. "Thank you, professor. Is that all?"
Snape nodded his head, black hair falling over one eye.
"Yes. You are dismissed."

I dipped my head respectfully at him, before smiling at Lucius, my eyes taking in his majestic form once more.
"A pleasure, Mr Malfoy." And with that I turned and exited the study, my mind already turning to the night of study ahead, though a smile still lit my face and my cheeks were slightly flushed with pink.

"To whom the Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:
'If thou beest he-but oh, how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light,
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!'"

I read the words aloud, shaping my gentle breath with pink, soft lips, savouring each word as if they were sweet, succulent morsels to be cherished, too delicious to throw away or take down all at once.

Resting my head back on the rough tree bark, I looked up and out at the darkening sky, feeling as the breeze caressed my cold-blushed cheeks and ruffled my hair like the hand of a gentle mother.
My hands played across the pages of the book I loved so dearly. Even if my childish imagination had not been captivated with such an exciting, daring and unique story, nor my eyes drunk with the intricate beauty of each stunning, glorious illustration that depicted beings so perfect that my breath still caught in my flawed, mortal throat, than the vision of Lucius, my Lucifer on earth, all those years ago was enough to ensnare me.

Feeling so secure as the tree supported my back, the pages beneath my palms reminded me of the great minds of mankind, and I allowed my mind to drift back to my childhood.

To many it must have surely seemed magical. And oh, how it was. The balls, the elegant dinners, the gathering of every great witch and wizard all of whom seemed so ethereal and awe inspiring to a young girl who lost herself each day in fairytales, angels and the promises of Gods.

Each gathering held a special appeal; be it the gowns of sumptuous materials I was adorned with, the beauty of the ladies who were so perfect that my eyes widened and my chest ached, or the men who would lift me up, planting soft moist kisses on my smiling mouth, as they slipped magical trinkets into the pockets of my dress.

And hadn't I loved being the beautiful, graceful, shining child? Didn't I sit on my father's lap, so readily reciting poetry or performing parlour tricks with any wand that I could coax from the steady grips of the watching men? Wasn't I my parents' only beloved? Too precious and perfect to be soiled by the hands of any child who had not come from a bloodline as pure and revered as my own?

Often that burning shining star was I. But stars can shine too bright and for too long, and supernovas or the deepest of black holes are their fate eventually. Did my childish awareness allow this knowledge to slip into my subconscious? I could not say. Though I do know that often I wondered why my dress and beautiful hair was more captivating than my mind. Why my obvious intelligence paled when compared to my natural beauty. Often I wondered why the way I looked, or dressed, or spoke was so much more important than the books I longed to pour over and recite to any willing ear.

Whatever it was that made me aware of the overt appreciation of of beauty and wealth my parents regarded, I would sometimes refuse to join the twirling, colourful, enchanting crowd, choosing instead to perch upon the winding stairs, peering through the wooden bars, my eyes wide and observant.

Since Lucifer flew to my house to grace my family with my presence, all I could think of was angels; seraphims. I would run to Susanna, books clasped in eager fingers, my mouth wide in an excited smile.
"Read this! Read this!" I would cry, and Susanna would lift me up in the air, bringing me down to nestle into her body, whilst she sat in a plush armchair and read me the tales I so loved to here.

We would pour over the pictures together, and when left alone I would hum the songs played at my family's soirees as I drew wings, feathers and beings with wide blue eyes and long, cascading hair in platinum, white, silver, gold and bronze.

I had watched from my seat on the stairs as a platinum head made it's way through the crowd of dancers, drinkers and socialites. My little heart beat faster, and I moved to a crouch, my fingers gripping the rails tightly, blue eyes wide.

There he was; there was the angel, my angel. Lucifer had once more returned to my house and I could not look away from his arrogant, stunning beauty and grace.

Daddy had said that he was not an angel, that he was a man, and even though no wings rested against Lucifer's back, I knew it was he. God said that the devil could take many forms. This Lucifer was no devil, no demon with red skin, black eyes and forked tail. Oh no. This Lucifer was a perfect, real angel and as he walked I could almost see the singed white feathers at his feet. Surely angels could adopt many forms too? Surely angels could choose to walk among men?

His walk was as fluid and graceful as a hunting cat, his gaze just as fixed and pointed. When he reached out a hand to grasp my father's, I followed with eyes that wanted to remember this image forever. My skin was tingling, my cheeks burning scarlet and my breathing rapid with excitement and a fear borne of want, need and naivety.

Pressing my face into the bars, my lips parted as I saw my angel turn. His eyes, still blazing with arrogance, defiance, and now a softer look of recognition, turned and caught on mine. Feeling as though I would be sucked into those perfect ovals of the deepest oceans, my imagination causing me to see an otherworldly glow that surely could only be the enchanted candles, I stood in one bound, wrenching my gaze from his and running to the comfort of my nursery.
I was too young, too weak and too mortal to meet the gaze of such perfection.

Coming back to myself, I closed the book. Today I have spoken with Lucifer, spoken with the infamous Lucius Malfoy; the man who terrorised many in nightmares and haunted me in dreams of holy light, feathers as soft as down and as large as a swan's, and eyes that burned a path deep within me.

Closing my eyes, the breeze whispering promises of peace to me, my memories lulling me into a sense of calm and peace, I leant my head against the tree, and allowed myself to tumble headfirst into a deep sleep which seemed like the warm welcoming embrace of a depthless ocean.
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Serendipity and the fallen seraphim