Damnatio Memoria

A Remember the Name Side-fic

By

EvilFuzzy9

"And then, they will be weaponized. Like everything in this game, from kittens to babies, everything is a potential device of murder."

- Ieb, Bay12 forums, on Dwarf Fortress and its community


A/N: Got re-addicted to Dwarf Fortress, hence the above quote. Won't have much time for writing for a while, probably.

This is a very short one, set time during or maybe shortly after chapter 60 of RtN, in the same continuity as it (not very helpful, since I'm still workin' on that chapter so it hasn't been posted yet) at Number Twelve.

Also: Naruto chapters 599 fucking yes, I (and like a shit-ton of other people going back many years) totally called it on the whole Obitobi thing.


Molly Weasley frowned as she looked at her eldest son, Bill. He'd never be able to find himself a nice girl looking like that, with his long hair and that dragon tooth earring.

"Oh, honestly, William..." she started, intending to chide him for his odd tastes in fashion, only to catch the disapproving look Petunia was giving him from her spot at the table. "... ... ... why don't you visit more often?" she said instead.

Bill blinked, honestly not having expected that greeting. He'd been sure his mother would once again try to convince him to adopt a more "sensible" style. Had she finally given up trying? That certainly didn't sound like his mother. She was stubborn and tenacious unlike just about any one-or-thing else.

Bill shook his head in mild bemusement, deciding not to worry about it.

"Well, I can try," he said, "But Gringotts has been a madhouse, and they've been having me do a lot of overtime working with one of the new transfers from France... you probably know her, actually; it's Fleur Delacour – you know, from the Triwizard Tournament?"

Vernon, seated next to Petunia, muttered something no doubt nasty about foreigners under his breath.

"Huh... Her? At Gringotts? You don't say..." Molly said thoughtfully. "What a small world... Well, maybe we can have her over sometime for dinner – well not here, obviously, but back at the Burrow."

Bill nearly choked on his summer sausage.

"Ah...!" he exclaimed, red-faced. "I, well, it's a little too early for something like that..."

"Nonsense," Molly said, "It's not like you're looking to court her, or anything. She'll just be a coworker coming over for dinner."

Bill was pointedly silent.

Molly's eyes widened. On an instinctive level somewhere in her hind-brain, a primal, impulsive flash of "That slut!" seared itself into her brain. But in her cortex, which was responsible for more nuanced sorts of thinking, her thoughts on the matter were decidedly more complicated, being more along the lines of apprehension with a slight hint of dismay.

She was about to say that maybe Bill should be careful not to let himself be lured into anything he might regret by a pretty face and a foreign accent, but she was interrupted by a cough of "foreign hussy" from Petunia.

So instead she said, with a slightly forced smile, "... well, we would be happy to have her over, either way. She seems like a lovely girl."

TTFN and R&R!


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