Dance of Death

chapter notes:
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hi!! okay so this is a one-shot for remus lupin and sirius black. basically, they're trying to kill each other at remus' ball, and it just never happens and things just settle. but the dance, and the tension, and the drama makes it THAT much worth it.

three songs that are a mashup of the dance that i listened to while writing were: "tanguera"(fabio hager sexteto), "el tango de los assassinos"(john powell), and "el tango de roxanne(instrumental)" (bcsv orchestra).

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The grand double-doors to the ballroom opened, as Sirius entered the ballroom with James by his side, both men radiating a dominant aura.

They stopped upon entry. They were on a platform, that had a staircase on either side to descend to reach the main floor, where the crowd was.

Sirius had his hands stuffed in his pockets, weight shifted to lean on one hip. James had his arms crossed over his chest. The two men were scanning the crowd, gaze sharp and expression serious.

Sirius was the first to take initiative, going down the stairs as if the spotlight in the room was on him solely.

It might as well have been with the amount of eyes on him.

James caught up quickly, the two falling in step with one another.

"Oh, cut it out, you two. Dramatic," Marlene scoffed into their ears through their earpieces– precautionary for any mission.

"No need for jealousy, McKinnon," Sirius spoke almost silently, lips not moving with his words.

He was the best in the business. Well, in the business with the French Mafia, of course.

There were only two other people that even just began to reach his level of expertise, in his opinion. Regulus Black(the drama with that grows exceedingly by every week) and Remus Lupin, both assassins for the United Kingdom Mafia.

Sirius was in a black undershirt that puffed at the arms and cuffed at the wrists. On top of the shirt was a corset that wore on him like a tank top around the shoulders. His standard black tie was tucked into the corset. His hair was tied back into a low ponytail.

James, who was almost the exact opposite of Sirius, was dressed in modern black dress pants and white button up. On top of the undershirt was a black vest. His burgundy-red tie was tucked into the vest, along with a few knives and a singular gun.

James had on his glasses; something Peter had attempted to convince James of otherwise. Another thing that was so characteristically James Potter– his curly hair that appeared to be a mop on the top of his head.

"Now, now, ladies. You're both pretty," James spoke up just as he and Sirius were on the ground floor.

"I can't believe we're here," Peter grumbled, somewhere in the ballroom.

Sirius went to respond to Peter, but was interrupted by someone approaching him and James.

"Good evening, gentlemen. Excuse me, I hate to be a bother, but if you'd be so kind as to wear your masks through the duration of the night. One of Boss' orders," one of the workers serving at the event, informed.

Right, Sirius thought dismally.

"Of course. Sorry," James answered for them.

In one and the same moment, Sirius and James slid their masks on to their faces.

Both were black, just covering the eyes. On the masks were small silver and bronze lines, as if woven with an intent to intrigue.

The two men were comely.