A/N: Got bitten by an insistent bunny one night whilst talking to the
one for whom Emma/Seamus must always be credited. This is, therefore,
completely dedicated to the always-wonderful, unimaginably talented
Kimmie. Acknowledgement must also be given to the lovely and brilliant
Sky, for the beta. And in hopes that, despite the obscure
characters/pairings, it will still be read, here's another chaptered
fic from me. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Plot is mine. Characters and universe belong to Rowling. Inspired by a friend.
Through the overcast clouds of the cold October night, its path weaving and slightly unsteady, came a lone, shivering figure on a bedraggled broomstick. It tumbled out of the sky to land not quite gracefully in front of a nondescript-looking building that the Birmingham locals passed by complacently and obliviously.
The figure pushed back a hood to reveal a pale face, marred with a bruise on the left side, and fawn-coloured, tangled hair. She was slightly breathless when she knocked on the door of the building.
A small House-Elf in a neat blue tea-towel stenciled with the word "Pallas" peered at her, and silently beckoned her in, apparently not at all surprised by her sudden appearance at the late hour, or the state she was in. The young woman followed the small creature into a sitting room far more finely appointed than the dull and unmarked exterior of the building suggested. The Elf bowed, and with a snap of its fingers, two of its fellows appeared, one bearing a tray of biscuits, the other a tea set.
"Morry bring Mistress and others, sit." The first House-Elf gave the wan-faced young woman a respectful bow, and disappeared with a pop.
The young woman-- just about a girl, really, gazed about her with solemn, weary eyes. The decor was somewhat formal, as though the proprietor was used to dignified, even grand surroundings, but the effect was somewhat mitigated by a few touches-- a rosy, merrily burning fire, the delicate blue-and-white teacups and pot set in front of her, the bouquet of creamy yellow chysanthemums and purple heather in a white ceramic mug, somehow more comforting than flawless roses and orchids from a hothouse would ever be, on top of an upright piano.
The door to the sitting room opened, and the House Elf was not alone. Behind Morry came three women, one of whom gasped in recognition at the figure on the settee. "Susan?" the sweet-faced blonde gasped. "Is that you?"
Susan's worn face finally broke into a smile. "Hannah!" Shakily getting up on her feet, she accepted a warm embrace from the blonde.
"I'd never thought I'd see YOU here," Hannah murmured fiercely. "But now that you ARE here, everything will be all right, I promise. Natalie and I will take great care of you. You'll be safe."
Behind Hannah, a petite Gryffindor with chocolate brown eyes nodded and gave Susan an encouraging smile, pouring several cups of tea for the newcomer with graceful hands. "Drink that," she said softly, "and I'll tell Morry to fetch a potion for that bruise."
The tete-a-tete was cut short by the sound of a throat clearing. The third woman who had come into the room, her dark hair bound in a neat bun and her slim form clad in sensible black robes, surveyed Susan calmly. "Well then? Where did you come from?"
"Miss Dobbs, can't we let Susan catch her breath first?" Hannah cajoled. "She must have gone through something terrible."
Emma Dobbs gave the slightly older Hufflepuff a wry smile. "Something which I've seen a great deal, but this is rather important. For her to be truly safe, like you promised, Hannah, we must... erase her tracks, if you get my drift." Piercing blue eyes turned towards Susan with a silent question.
"Canterbury," the young woman murmured listlessly, staring down at her hands. "I... I left my husband."
"One Stuart Jugson," Emma finished dryly for her. A fugitive, according to the press. Jugson was the son of a Death Eater who had certainly done his share of dark deeds during the war. Emma knew of the man and the rumours that he'd married the last surviving member of a prominent pureblood family. It hadn't been completely the choice of the bride, so the stories ran, and after he'd married her, Jugson had broken his promise to her and systematically killed her family.
Susan nodded slowly. "I... put a anti-tracking charm on my broom," she murmured. "He got drunk... and started raging about the fact that he doesn't have an heir yet. And... after it was all over, I flew away. I'd heard of Pallas House, but didn't really know where it was. I must've flown over Birmingham three times to find it."
"Well, you're here now," Hannah said soothingly. "And we'll take good care of you."
"You and Natalie can do that," the mistress of the establishment smirked at the curly-haired Hufflepuff. "I shall just take care of the practical things and leave the warm and fuzzy love to you who do it best. You can put her in room 3C." The brunette nodded at her two subordinates, who were already sitting one on each side of Susan, formerly Bones, as though they were sisters, and quietly left the room.
Moving to her office, Emma Dobbs unlocked the door and emptied Susan's testimony into an intricately carved jade pensieve by her desk. Pulling out a book from the massive bookshelf occupying one wall, she flipped through the pages until she found one on Stuart Jugson.
Taking out her wand, she concentrated and performed the intricate warding spell that, by this point, came almost as naturally as a Summoning Charm. Stuart Jugson was added to the lengthening list of people barred from Pallas House and forbidden from entrance.
And then, with a cool, collected air, she scribbled an anonymous tip to the Aurors' Guild that one of their fugitives was stationed in Canterbury, and as she watched her owl take flight out the window, she listened to the soft sounds of conversation and footsteps passing-- Hannah must be taking Susan to her room.
It was probably the fifth person she'd taken in that week, and it was only Wednesday. Every new arrival brought with her a set of emotional baggage, personal sadness and potential trouble. To run an institution like this was nerve-wracking at times.
But a Slytherin was nothing if not ambitious and determined, and in any case, Emma had her own reasons.
Disclaimer: Plot is mine. Characters and universe belong to Rowling. Inspired by a friend.
Through the overcast clouds of the cold October night, its path weaving and slightly unsteady, came a lone, shivering figure on a bedraggled broomstick. It tumbled out of the sky to land not quite gracefully in front of a nondescript-looking building that the Birmingham locals passed by complacently and obliviously.
The figure pushed back a hood to reveal a pale face, marred with a bruise on the left side, and fawn-coloured, tangled hair. She was slightly breathless when she knocked on the door of the building.
A small House-Elf in a neat blue tea-towel stenciled with the word "Pallas" peered at her, and silently beckoned her in, apparently not at all surprised by her sudden appearance at the late hour, or the state she was in. The young woman followed the small creature into a sitting room far more finely appointed than the dull and unmarked exterior of the building suggested. The Elf bowed, and with a snap of its fingers, two of its fellows appeared, one bearing a tray of biscuits, the other a tea set.
"Morry bring Mistress and others, sit." The first House-Elf gave the wan-faced young woman a respectful bow, and disappeared with a pop.
The young woman-- just about a girl, really, gazed about her with solemn, weary eyes. The decor was somewhat formal, as though the proprietor was used to dignified, even grand surroundings, but the effect was somewhat mitigated by a few touches-- a rosy, merrily burning fire, the delicate blue-and-white teacups and pot set in front of her, the bouquet of creamy yellow chysanthemums and purple heather in a white ceramic mug, somehow more comforting than flawless roses and orchids from a hothouse would ever be, on top of an upright piano.
The door to the sitting room opened, and the House Elf was not alone. Behind Morry came three women, one of whom gasped in recognition at the figure on the settee. "Susan?" the sweet-faced blonde gasped. "Is that you?"
Susan's worn face finally broke into a smile. "Hannah!" Shakily getting up on her feet, she accepted a warm embrace from the blonde.
"I'd never thought I'd see YOU here," Hannah murmured fiercely. "But now that you ARE here, everything will be all right, I promise. Natalie and I will take great care of you. You'll be safe."
Behind Hannah, a petite Gryffindor with chocolate brown eyes nodded and gave Susan an encouraging smile, pouring several cups of tea for the newcomer with graceful hands. "Drink that," she said softly, "and I'll tell Morry to fetch a potion for that bruise."
The tete-a-tete was cut short by the sound of a throat clearing. The third woman who had come into the room, her dark hair bound in a neat bun and her slim form clad in sensible black robes, surveyed Susan calmly. "Well then? Where did you come from?"
"Miss Dobbs, can't we let Susan catch her breath first?" Hannah cajoled. "She must have gone through something terrible."
Emma Dobbs gave the slightly older Hufflepuff a wry smile. "Something which I've seen a great deal, but this is rather important. For her to be truly safe, like you promised, Hannah, we must... erase her tracks, if you get my drift." Piercing blue eyes turned towards Susan with a silent question.
"Canterbury," the young woman murmured listlessly, staring down at her hands. "I... I left my husband."
"One Stuart Jugson," Emma finished dryly for her. A fugitive, according to the press. Jugson was the son of a Death Eater who had certainly done his share of dark deeds during the war. Emma knew of the man and the rumours that he'd married the last surviving member of a prominent pureblood family. It hadn't been completely the choice of the bride, so the stories ran, and after he'd married her, Jugson had broken his promise to her and systematically killed her family.
Susan nodded slowly. "I... put a anti-tracking charm on my broom," she murmured. "He got drunk... and started raging about the fact that he doesn't have an heir yet. And... after it was all over, I flew away. I'd heard of Pallas House, but didn't really know where it was. I must've flown over Birmingham three times to find it."
"Well, you're here now," Hannah said soothingly. "And we'll take good care of you."
"You and Natalie can do that," the mistress of the establishment smirked at the curly-haired Hufflepuff. "I shall just take care of the practical things and leave the warm and fuzzy love to you who do it best. You can put her in room 3C." The brunette nodded at her two subordinates, who were already sitting one on each side of Susan, formerly Bones, as though they were sisters, and quietly left the room.
Moving to her office, Emma Dobbs unlocked the door and emptied Susan's testimony into an intricately carved jade pensieve by her desk. Pulling out a book from the massive bookshelf occupying one wall, she flipped through the pages until she found one on Stuart Jugson.
Taking out her wand, she concentrated and performed the intricate warding spell that, by this point, came almost as naturally as a Summoning Charm. Stuart Jugson was added to the lengthening list of people barred from Pallas House and forbidden from entrance.
And then, with a cool, collected air, she scribbled an anonymous tip to the Aurors' Guild that one of their fugitives was stationed in Canterbury, and as she watched her owl take flight out the window, she listened to the soft sounds of conversation and footsteps passing-- Hannah must be taking Susan to her room.
It was probably the fifth person she'd taken in that week, and it was only Wednesday. Every new arrival brought with her a set of emotional baggage, personal sadness and potential trouble. To run an institution like this was nerve-wracking at times.
But a Slytherin was nothing if not ambitious and determined, and in any case, Emma had her own reasons.