And here she goes with another knew story….*sighs* when will I ever learn???
Don't own nada…well except for Ms. Blanche!!! She's aaaaaaaaall mine!!!
French is the language I am taking in high school, so I decided to have one character speak French, at least for the time being,(I'm just practicing ^^) but don't worry I'll translate it for you!! And don't kill me if its not right, I'm only in my second year, and we ain't learning much!!!^^
Vocab!!!
Blanche = white in French
Ange= angel in French (This is not pronounce ang…..drag out the g like a j!!!)
Mon Ange de Mort = my angel of death
J'ai attendu longtemps pour vous= I have waited a long time for you.
Je suis prêt= I am ready.
S'il vous plaît me prendre loin maintenant= please, take me away now.
Vous ne me prendrez pas loin?= you will not take me away?
L'amende, alors je partirai= Fine, then I will leave.
Revient pour moi quand vous êtes prêt à terminer mon souffrir= come back for me when you are ready to end my suffering.
Quel est votre nom?= what is your name?
Chapter One: First Encounter
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, for Ms. Granger's inability to listen to instructions," Snape sneered. Hermione had just tried to help Neville with his potion yet again. The bell rang, and all the students eagerly packed up to leave. "Class dismissed."
Double potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin was the last class of the day, thank goodness. Dinner would be starting soon.
Snape finished writing 'F's on the rest of his papers, then left for the Great Hall. He spent the time during dinner ignoring his fellow teachers' comments, and glaring down at the students below him. After finishing his meal, he stalked back to the dungeons to grade some more papers before having to go on his night rounds.
~~~~~Later~~~~~~~
"Fifty points from Hufflepuff, and detention tomorrow night with Filch! Now get back to your common rooms!" Snape commanded, busting two Hufflepuff's who had accidentally slipped and fell upon each other in a dark cubby, with the boy's hand in the girl's shirt.
Just this evening, Snape had already busted ten students for some reason or another, and by now, his shift was almost over. Sweeping down into the dungeons, and heading to his chambers, he paused. Somewhere near by, someone was gently sobbing. Yet another student out of bed after curfew. Snape enjoyed making the student's lives miserable. He walked silently through the halls following the sounds of distress. Turning one last corner, and quickening his steps in the eagerness of catching someone else, he stopped dead in his tracks.
There, before him, was the strangest sight. A creature was huddled by the opposite wall, its head tucked in its arms, as its frail body shook with its quiet sobbing. Suddenly the sobbing stopped, as the head lifted itself up and stared in Snape's direction. Snape was paralyzed by her face. Yes, he now saw the creature as a she. Like a beautiful angel.
As the girl gracefully rose off the ground, her mouth trembled into the smallest of smiles. She took slow steps toward him, her eyes timidly set upon his. Snape could not move his gaze away as he studied the girl before him.
Long white hair fell softly over her shoulders and down to her waist. She was of the most pale complexion, white really, not a bit of pigment in her flawless skin. Her body was clothed in a simple, rag-like dress, cut high at her neck, sleeveless, falling in a gentle curve down to her knees. Her figure was frail, as her ribs stuck out through the dress. Her feet were bare, and made no sound as she approached. What shocked him the most, was her eyes. Wide, innocent, doe-like eyes. But they were lavender. Rimmed by white lashes, with delicately shaped eyebrows above, and thin pale lips below. She was so bright, so white and pure, that Snape felt, in this darkened corridor, she glowed. But people simply could not glow. It was simply a trick his eyes were playing on him.
"Mon Ange de Mort. J'ai attendu longtemps pour vous." With this, the girl threw herself down at Snape's feet, in a position of submission and respect.
Snape was stunned, to say the least. He had never seen this girl before in any of his classes, and he knew she would have stood out to him had she been there. And her voice! Oh her voice was heaven. Soft and light, yet sorrowful as well. Slightly oppressive but gentle, like a fresh snow, unmarred by human steps. And what was this? Angel of Death? Snape was no angel. And who had she been waiting a long time for? Snape? Not possible!
Nonetheless, she was out late, and she would have to suffer. "Get to your feet, and explain yourself!"He said coldly.
She looked up, with a blank face, her smile still in place. Climbing to her feet, she kept her eyes down, humble. She said nothing, only kept that sad little smile in place.
"Do you hear me? Why are you out of bed so late? Whose house do you belong to?" If Snape felt fear, he might have felt it now, as the girl's calm face held its expression. But Snape could not feel fear, he had been free of it for a long time. Instead, he was awed. He wondered briefly whether he had died, and the angel that stood before him was here to take him away. But, no, she was calling him the angel.
"Mon Ange de Mort. J'ai attendu longtemps pour vous. Je suis prêt. S'il vous plaît me prendre loin maintenant."
Snape was angry. Who the bloody hell was this girl? Why was she speaking nonsense to him? And why was she not answering his questions? Snape made to grab the girl. But she laughed lightly, like the tinkling of bells, and danced out of his way.
"Vous ne me prendrez pas loin? L'amende, alors je partirai. Revient pour moi quand vous êtes prêt à terminer mon souffrir," she spoke again in her heavenly voice. And with that, she turned and ran, gentle tinkling bell laugh echoing in the hallways behind her.
Snape, dumbfounded, stood there. "Wait!" he called out last minute. At the end of the corridor, she slowed and turned her head, a smile lightening her features. "What is your name? Quel est votre nom?"
She laughed again, and turned the corner, skipping. As Snape turned away, thoroughly confused, a whispering answer came echoing back to him.
"Ange Blanche."
Very confused, and thoroughly angry that the girl had escaped him, Snape returned to his dungeons. Lying in his bed, he closed his eyes. But sleep would not come to him. He pondered over this girl for a long time, this Ange Blanche. Angel, white…white angel? What kind of name was that?
Finally, in the few hours before dawn, Snape fell into a troubled sleep, haunted by dreams of his White Angel.
Bizarre? Yes I agree…don't know how I came up with this… and I used the word white so much!!! Hahaha….but there's no other word to describe it!!!
Tell me if you think I should continue this story!!
Also, would you rather have the translations in the text, right after she says it, or at the beginning?
I used for my translations…well some of em. Some I could do myself, and for some I used my dad!!!