Jeanne frowned at the door Antonin had left wide open. A loud hoot broke the silence.

What had he been thinking? She had understood the problem the moment she laid eye on Walden. What a fool she had been! She should never have allowed Antonin to return to his former life. Never! She would pay dearly for that mistake.

She sat down on one of the plain chairs, fuming. They were going to fucking kill her for that crime – for it was a crime, the most grievous one she could imagine an Ancient committing. Or worse, she thought in sudden panic, they might kill him. Her only progeny, the only child she would ever have. She couldn't bear the thought. She'd been harsh to him because she was afraid, she realised. She already regretted hitting him.

"Why did you kill her?" Walden asked softly after a moment.

She glared at him indignantly. "I didn't kill the damn girl, you idiot!" Of course she bloody well hadn't. It was expressly forbidden – anything even remotely susceptible to be linked to the Ancients was prohibited. Besides, she cared little where the boy chose to stuff his… Well, what she meant was that she entertained no romantic feelings toward him. She wasn't jealous of the women he frequented. She was simply being protective of him, that was all. Like any good mother would be. "I had someone erase her memory, that's all. He told her too bloody much. He told her his real name! And the girl has a half-brother who is a wizard. You can see how that might prove dangerous." She huffed in annoyance. The nerve of the man, to accuse her as if she were the one who had committed a crime! Antonin was the one who had broken the rules, not her.

"Quel foutoir," she muttered crossly. She saw that Walden was about to tell her to calm down. "I know, I know. I understand, yes? I'm not made of wood, curse you. I understand why he turned you. I just wish he hadn't." She grimaced. "When you've lived as long as I have, you learn to think things through before you act, no matter the circumstances, no matter the urgency of the situation. You do realise he's ended our line, don't you?" she asked earnestly. She wasn't making a fuss for no reason, he had to see that. Hell, she wasn't being near hysterical just for the sake of it.

"Yeah, I know. I'm not an Ancient, am I?" he asked with a small frown.

"No, I daresay you are not, mon pauvre chou. But who knows exactly what you are? No ordinary mortal was ever turned by one of us."

"Right." Walden took a deep, unnecessary breath. Obviously, he wasn't yet used to the fact that he didn't breathe anymore. "Jeanne, we didn't call you for that. Well, not only that," he amended. Oh, mon dieu. What could possibly be worse than this? She steeled herself. She would not slap him. He might not survive. Mere vampires were not quite as strong as the Ancients were. "My fiancée was kidnapped. We've been looking for her for over two months, in vain. I need your help, Jeanne."

Fiancée? She hadn't known he was engaged. Then again, at the risk of seeming heartless, the woman's disappearance was the least of her worries at present. She had to prepare for the upcoming meeting, to find a way to save Antonin's skin – and her own. And Walden's, if at all possible. She shrugged. "I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to." She rose from her seat.

"I thought you might say that," Walden said wryly. She narrowed her eye at him. He thought he knew her, did he? She sniffed, not bothering to reply. "But it'll be worth your time, I promise you." She arched an eyebrow. "She was bitten by a werewolf and survived."

Jeanne looked at him impassively. So what? she thought derisively. She was well aware that women weren't supposed to survive a bite from one of the cursed beasts, but it was hardly interesting to her. She tried to tell him that, but he went on before she could open her mouth. "She was also bitten by Tony," he added with mock casualness.

She wished he would stop calling him that. It was such a plain nickname. 'Antonin' was much more distinguished, much more elegant. She blinked when she realised what he'd just said. No, she must have misheard that last part. "She can turn invisible?" she repeated. That was impossible.

Walden nodded. "And she regenerates almost instantly."

"That's…" She paused, considering. "Is she a vampire?" she asked dubiously.

"No. No fangs, no blood cravings. She can walk in daylight. Her skin is the same colour it's always been, and it doesn't feel cold to the touch."

Well, it might be worth looking into, but certainly not right now. She patted him on the shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting manner. "I'm afraid it will have to wait. I might consider it, if we survive the next couple of months," she said sourly.

"It can't wait! Jeanne, Fenrir Greyback's got her. Have you heard of him? Do you have any–"

She threw him a sharp look. "Greyback?"

"He's the one who took her, yes."

Bon sang de bonsoir! A fucking Wolf. That changed everything. "This is... this is beyond me. I must take it higher up. Dealing with those… creatures..." She shook her head in disgust but made no mention of the Wolves out loud. She didn't think Antonin knew about them yet, let alone these two. "But it'll have to wait until the meeting, Walden." Another noble name. It had a nice ring to it. Why did they all insist on shortening their rightful names? Concentre-toi, imbécile, she chided herself. "If I force them to attend another reunion before the planned one... It would make things even worse."

"Meeting? What meeting?"

"Our centennial meeting. On Halloween. Didn't Antonin mention it?" she asked with a frown. He spoke so freely to everyone, she had assumed the whole Order of the Phoenix would know about it by now. Damn, how many people has he told? she thought with an internal groan.

"First I'm hearing of it," Walden said.

"Well, do make sure he remembers it. You'll need to attend as well, I suppose. But I must warn you... they may decide to have you executed. Both of you." And myself, she added mentally. The Ancients were few as it was, but the offence was grievous.

Walden nodded, but he didn't look particularly happy at her concession. "It's in two months," he grumbled. "Are you sure you can't–"

"No, I cannot," she cut him off sharply. She was already thinking about the arguments she would present. "If Greyback is involved, it will hopefully make the others more amenable toward the other… matter." Yes, it might work. Find a scapegoat, divert the others until they forgot about Antonin's little… gaffe. "Well," she went on crisply, "I'm counting on you to remind him. He knows where and when. Formal dress code." She moved toward the door. "Oh, and do let him know I didn't harm that cute little mortal of his. I wouldn't want there to be any bad blood between us," she said wittily.

"Yeah, but wait. There's a small issue... he can't feed off me anymore. Do you know where–"

"For fuck's sake!" she yelled angrily. "Don't I have enough on my plate? Must I feed him myself? Sort this out on your own, burn you. Have the damned ginger serve as beverage, for all I care." It was her turn to storm off into the night.

"She's quite rude," Molly remarked as she closed the door behind the vampire. Thankfully, the woman hadn't awakened anyone when she'd shouted. If she'd disturbed Arthur's already shortened sleep, or Bill's…

"She's French," Walden pointed out.

Well, there was a lot to be said about Fleur, but at least her language was always correct. In Molly's presence, anyhow. "What was that about Antonin not being able to feed off you?" she enquired. "He's been drinking animal blood since you joined the Order."

Walden proceeded to explain that Antonin had only been drinking animal blood to keep up appearances, but in fact needed to drink human blood, preferably at the source, although rarely. There was a lot she had yet to discover, it seemed. Should she really keep this all to herself? She would reflect upon the matter when she'd had a proper night of rest.

She noticed that Walden looked as morose as he had when he'd knocked on her bedroom door a few hours earlier. "It seems that things are looking up at last," she said with all the cheerfulness she could muster – it was quite late, and her brief encounter with the foul-mouthed vampire had taken its toll on her. "And who knows," she added, holding back a yawn, "perhaps we'll even rescue Evey before that meeting she was going on about."

"Aye, but in what condition will we find her, if we do?" Walden murmured tiredly. He was staring longingly at the window. The sun would rise soon.

She couldn't think of a comforting reply.