Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.
Read on, oh faithful ones...
A/N: As always, translations in my fic are through an online site, so my apologies if I have completely butchered the French language.
...
Chapter Thirty Seven
...
"Gin, c'mon. That's enough now. You've been staring at the ceiling for almost an hour now, and I'm starving. We're going to lunch, as promised, and then you can come back and stare at the ceiling for the rest of the day if you like," George promised, cajoling her out of Ginevra's memories.
Disorientated, Ginny blinked a few times and took a moment to remember where she was.
George grinned down at her. "Welcome back, dearest sister. Are you ready for lunch?"
Ginny nodded and sat up slowly, the room spinning nonetheless. She groaned, holding her head in her hands.
"Headache?"
"Yeah, just a bit," she muttered.
"I'll get you a potion. Drink some water while you're waiting," George ordered, producing a goblet of water with a flourish of his wand.
"Stop moving so much, Merlin's beard," Ginny moaned, ending with a slight whimper.
George just put the goblet into her hands and left to get a headache potion from the bathroom.
Ginny was surprised to find that Ginevra was silent, but figured that sharing memories was probably exhausting for Ginevra as well, and she was almost pleased at the brief reprieve. George returned with a headache potion for her, and Ginny gulped it down as fast as she could.
"Don't choke to death on a headache potion, dearest sister. It would make for a terrible headstone."
Ginny was too busy concentrating on waiting for the headache potion to work to glare at George.
"Wow, it must be one hell of a headache, sister. Are you sure you want to go out for lunch?" George offered, voice somewhat softer now.
Blinking and feeling her headache clearing up, Ginny gave her brother a quick smile. "I'll be fine once I've eaten; let's get out of here."
"Ah, there's the Gin I know and love. Hungry and demanding; a wonderful combination, as always."
"Thanks, George," Ginny deadpanned.
"Ever so welcome, dearest," George replied, offering his arm to her to Side Apparate.
Ginny took it and George Apparated immediately.
"Next time, remind me to wait at least a minute before Apparating after a headache potion. Bloody hell," Ginny groaned.
George snorted beside her and patted her arm condescendingly. "Now, now, Ginny, you should know better than to drink and Apparate."
"Not funny, George."
"Oh, it was a little funny."
Ginny straightened up, hoping the headache potion would continue to work after Apparating, and looked around the restaurant's foyer. She frowned slightly, realising that she actually had no idea where they were.
"George? Where are we?" she asked quietly, somewhat confused that they weren't going out for their usual simple lunch at the Horse's Hooves or the Hog's Head.
"Surprise, we're at Mermaid's Medallion."
"Mermaid's... Oh, shit, George, I am not dressed for Mermaid's Medallion! And how did you get a reservation here, anyway? The menu at this place costs more than I make in a month!" she hissed at him, tugging at the hem of her far-too-plain shirt.
"Don't be ridiculous; the menu here is more than you make in a week," George said flippantly. "I know the chef, so he got me a table. And you look fine. Just put your hair up," he added, glancing at Ginny as the maître d' made her way over to usher them into the restaurant.
"Good afternoon; do you have a reservation?"
"Yes, Mr. and Ms. Damera."
"Of course. This way," the maître d' said, leading them through the restaurant to their table.
Ginny hurried to put her hair up in a quick bun as they followed the maître d', and at least felt somewhat better, if not better dressed for the restaurant by the time she and George sat down. The maître d' produced two menus for them, then left them to their waiter. George asked for water, and the waiter left after giving him a nod.
"How do I look?" Ginny asked quietly, wincing as she thought of the state of her clothes.
"Here, let me," George offered, doing a few spells to straighten her clothes and some other silent ones that Ginny felt flutter over her face as a Glamour.
Probably just to remove the bags under my eyes, she thought to herself, tempted to touch the area, but resisting the temptation.
"So, who are the Dameras?" Ginny asked, looking at the menu.
"Us, dearest sister," George said, grinning slightly.
Ginny frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, dearest brother, but I certainly don't remember changing my name recently. Did we steal some poor couple's reservation?" she asked, only half-joking.
George laughed at her question, and as he did so, Ginny saw a slight shimmer to his face that had nothing to do with the large windows or overhanging chandelier. Concentrating on the now-obvious Glamour, Ginny watched as her brother's face changed slightly, his chin broadening, his freckles disappearing, his eyes changing to a bright blue, and his red hair lengthening to a brown crop of hair that was tied back. Now that she had noticed the change, she had to wonder just what Glamours George had put on her.
"I'm offended and hurt that you would think so little of me, dearest. As you can see, the Damera family tree has recently been altered," George added with a broad grin. He glanced around, his posture relaxing slightly when he was certain they weren't drawing anyone's attention. "Damera's a name I use out in the field with this guise. I've had this reservation for a few weeks now, and it's sure to draw attention to the fact that I'm here. If I'm lucky, you'll be thought of as a very good Glamour, as I've used the trick before. It's a well-known fact that I rarely dine with others, so I am hoping to use that to my advantage today."
"You mean our lunch is really bait?"
George just winked in response. "Ah, Alexandre! What a coincidence to see you here!" George called out jovially, waving a man over from the front foyer." Be on your guard, dearest, I don't plan on dying today," he added in a soft undertone to Ginny.
Acting as though she was a Glamour - and therefore, not meant to move - Ginny resisted the temptation to turn around to see who George was calling out to.
"Take a seat, Alexandre. I'm sure I can spare a few Sickles for an old friend, especially one as dear as you," George added, emphasising on the word dear, his eyes barely flicking down to Ginny.
Not allowing herself to hesitate or doubt her brother, Ginny turned immediately and Stunned the approaching wizard. She caught his expression a split second before the hex hit, and she wondered just why this wizard looked ready to kill George. Alexandre fell forward, and his wand slipped out of his grasp, rolling towards the table. Ginny snatched the wand up before the wizard could overcome her hex, while George stepped around the chair and edge of the table to pick Alexandre up and place him in an empty chair between them.
"Do relax the spell a bit, dearest, otherwise we'll be waiting all evening for dear Monsieur Alexandre to thaw."
Ginny eased the hex in small increments, enough to allow Alexandre to bend his arms and knees to sit properly.
"Lovely. Now, if I may see Monsieur Alexandre's wand?" George asked.
Ginny placed the wizard's wand in George's outstretched palm, quietly waiting and curious to see what he would do.
"You know, they say that Monsieur Maxence is the best wandmaker in France. Light, supple wands that are unequaled, even by Mr. Ollivander. It's not bad for a tagline, but I always associate light and supple with fragile and breakable," George said, bending the wand in his hands experimentally. "Of course, there are the usual built-in charms to stop accidental breakage, otherwise the good Monsieur Maxence would have been out of business years ago. But I have to wonder about intentional breakage, surely that would work?" he murmured, almost to himself, the wand bending in a firm curve now.
Alexandre paled, watching with slightly-wider eyes as George continued to flex the birch wand. He let out a noise of alarm as George straightened the wand and then started to flex it the other way, the length of wood creaking dangerously.
"Ah, dearest, do me a favour and let Alexandre speak. I have something very important to ask of him," George said, not moving his gaze away from the wizard.
Ginny did as George asked, lessening the spell so that Alexandre could move his mouth and fingers.
"What do you want?" Alexandre spat, his French accent heavy.
"Oh, quite a lot, really. A nice manor in the country, among a list of things I want. But from you? I just want one thing: a name."
Alexandre clenched his jaw, looking between George and his wand.
"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asked, returning with a Quick Quill and parchment, along with a bottle of water.
"Oh, dear, we got so caught up talking to our old friend that we quite forgot about food!" George said with a laugh. "Dearest, have you decided on your meal?" he asked, gesturing to the forgotten menu sitting in front of her.
Ginny looked to the menu quickly, making sure to keep her wand trained on Alexandre under the table. "I'll have the filet mignon with red wine sauce, and I'd like the roast vegetables, not the salad," she added, seeing the two options listed.
"Hmm, I'm torn between Blanquette de veau and Sole Meunière. Do you have any suggestions, Alexandre?" George asked, looking to their captive expectantly. (Veal ragout. Lemon-butter fish. French dishes, not direct translations.)
Alexandre blinked, frowning. "Sole Meunière."
"Blanquette de veau it is. You have horrible taste, Alexandre. He'll have the Hachis Parmentier; it's delicious and you won't regret it," George added, passing the menus back to the waiter. (Shepherd's pie. French dish, not direct translation.)
"Very good. Your meals will be out presently," the waiter promised, leaving again.
"Now, I believe I was asking you about a name?" George prompted, taking Alexandre's wand up once more.
"Who'ze name?" Alexandre asked.
"The name of the person that sent you to kill me."
Alexandre started visibly sweating, and George began tapping the wizard's wand on the table quite forcefully.
"I d-do not know! Zere was an owl, money and your name on a note; zat iz all I know!"
George stopped banging the wand and frowned at Alexandre. "Hmm. Do you have the note?"
"My robe pocket. If ze young lady can undo ze spell?" Alexandre offered, wiggling his fingertips briefly.
Ginny ignored his request and reached over the table into the wizard's robe. Finding the slip of parchment, along with a smooth vial in the same pocket, Ginny took them both out and placed them on the table in front of Alexandre. George saw the vial filled with purple liquid and shook his head, tutting in disappointment.
"After all of these years of friendship, I'm so disappointed to see you lying to me, Alexandre."
George picked up the vial carefully, and as the light from the windows and chandelier caught on the liquid, it splayed out a myriad of colours on the plate before them.
"You obviously know more than what you're telling me if you were planning on using Amonia in an attempted murder."
"Zey wanted you to be a warning to others," Alexandre said, straining against the spell.
"I asked you for a name, you said you didn't know, now you're telling me he or she is actually a they?" George asked pointedly.
Ginny tightened the hex on Alexandre, the wizard stopping his struggles immediately. She picked up the parchment still sitting in front of him, reading the French words for herself before holding it out to George.
"Kill R. Dameras; make it a warning to others," he read out. "Well, that's enlightening," George muttered, trailing off as he saw something else at the bottom of the parchment. He snatched it out of Ginny's hands quickly, examining the parchment closely. "Oh, that really is enlightening! Merci, Alexandre." (Thank you. French)
Ginny frowned slightly, not having seen anything else of interest on the parchment, and certainly nothing to warrant her brother's response.
"Ma'am, the filet mignon. Sir, the Blanquette de veau. And sir, the Hachis Parmentier. Enjoy your meals. If there is anything else I can do for you, please do not hesitate to call," the waiter added, waiting a moment to ensure they did not require his service before leaving once more.
"Now, dearest, I'm sure we can allow Alexandre the use of one hand to eat his meal."
"You're really letting him eat with us? He just tried to kill you!"
"I know; but it's rude manners to eat in front of someone, and Damera's are never rude."
Ginny sighed and lessened the spell enough that the wizard could use his arm.
"Know this though, Alexandre. If you try to kill me while we're eating, you'll befall the same fate as Arison in Italy. I presume you remember what happened to him?" George added, taking a healthy bite of his ragout.
Alexandre stopped looking at his spoon as though determining the best way to finish his job, and instead simply looked queasy. Ginny was dying to know what had happened in Italy.
Trust me, you do not want to know before food. Or after food. Or in a ten-metre radius of food, Ginevra supplied with what sounded like a full-bodied shudder.
"All right, dearest?" George asked, seeing his sister shudder.
"Headache's back," she replied with a tight smile, setting her wand aside so she could cut into her steak.
"Well, I hope the food helps, as you said it would. Alexandre, if you don't put that knife down, I will bind you to the chair the Muggle way."
Alexandre put the knife down quickly and picked up his spoon once more. He started to eat reluctantly, though his features softened as he tasted the food.
"Good, isn't it?" George asked with a grin, taking another bite of his own meal.
Alexandre nodded. "Oui, as good as Mama used to make."
"Now, that's definitely a nice compliment. I'll pass it along to the chef, shall I?"
Alexandre paled, his spoon clattering to the floor as he stared at his food. Within a matter of seconds, the spoon had been replaced with a clean one by their waiter.
"Now, now, no need to look so concerned, Alexandre. A few drops of Veritaserum never hurt anyone. Unless they resisted, of course," George added, his voice pleasant and a stark contrast to the expression on his face. "Now, would you like to us to finish eating first, or shall we just leave now instead?"
"Finish eating first," Alexandre said quickly, obviously hoping for some of the Veritaserum to have worn off by the time they had finished their meals.
Ginny realised that she was only a few bites away from finishing her filet mignon and roast vegetables. She figured that the next five minutes would probably be enough time for her to finish her meal and for the Veritaserum to become more potent in Alexandre's bloodstream.
The next seven minutes were some of the quietest in Ginny's memory. Alexandre kept his breathing shallow, obviously trying to fight the potion working its way through his body; George ate his food calmly, as though drugging someone with Veritaserum was an everyday occurrence; and Ginny focused on chewing her food so she wouldn't choke to death in her hurry.
"No need to rush, dearest. Alexandre's been given a slow-working Veritaserum. Newly developed, in fact. If it works well with Alexandre, it might make a certain potion-maker we know very rich."
Ginny paused in her chewing, surprised that Morrigan had made a new type of Veritaserum and she hadn't known about it.
Of course we didn't know. She has no idea what you're doing at Cloffice, does she? Ginevra pointed out.
That's because I'm not doing anything!
What do you think this is?
A really weird lunch date, Ginny muttered internally, poking at the last of her roast pumpkin and filet mignon with her fork.
For now, you're right. Now finish eating and find out what happens next.
With Alexandre or Amelia?
Alexandre first; neither of us want to miss out on that.
Ginny speared the meat and pumpkin on her fork, and ate it in a large bite. Across from her, George raised his eyebrow at her eagerness and grinned.
"Now, Alexandre, I am upset that you are wasting food like this, especially something as delicious as Hachis Parmentier. I hope that the next time you are invited to a lunch, you eat everything that's on your plate.
"Dearest, will you call our waiter to settle the bill, please? I'll Side Apparate Alexandre when we're ready to leave; I wouldn't want your headache to get worse," George added.
The very idea of Side Apparating anyone made Ginny feel as bad as Alexandre looked, and she gave a nod, turning to call their waiter. The wizard arrived a few seconds after Ginny had called for him, a rectangle piece of parchment with their meals and final bill listed. George produced a quill from his robes, signed on the line at the bottom and thanked their waiter as their plates were cleared.
"Unfortunately, our friend is not feeling well, and could not finish his meal. Please thank the chef, everything was delicious," George added.
Ginny finished her drink of water, slipped her wand back into its holster at her side, and gave George a firm nod. He gave a nod in return, and they both grabbed on to either side of Alexandre, helping him stand properly. Before anyone could say anything, George Side Apparated the three of them away.
...
Ginny had no idea where George had Apparated them to, and some part of her knew that she would never find out the actual location.
It's a safety precaution. For both you and George, really. I had several places in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds that were designed for information retrieval, and not even Draco and Blaise knew where they were, Ginevra pointed out.
By 'information retrieval', you mean torture, don't you?
Sometimes, yes. Other times, it's just a place to sit and talk without fear of being overheard. There's a nice apartment in Prague that's designed to help people relax. It's where I took Kelly after that witch tried to kill her.
Did it work? The apartment calmed her down? Ginny asked curiously, watching absent-mindedly as George bound Alexandre to a chair with a flick of his wand.
Well, the Calming Draughts in her tea certainly helped. That apartment has the highest stocks of Calming Draught of any of the safe houses. Three full cabinets of tea and Calming Draughts, the last I saw.
"Now, dearest, you let me know the minute you need to leave, all right? There's no shame in it, especially when you're already feeling unwell," George added, his voice soft and kind.
"I'll be fine, dearest. If I'm not, I'll let you know," Ginny added when she saw that he wasn't convinced.
"Good. Now, you have first choice of seating, so..." George trailed off, indicating to the lounge area set up across from Alexandre's chair.
Ginny walked past Alexandre to sit in the armchair that faced his general direction. While she could watch everything that happened, Ginny could look at the fake window in the background and let scenes of the Royal Botanical Gardens distract her.
If it gets to be too much, we can continue with Amelie instead, Ginevra offered.
Ginny stayed silent for the moment, and watched as her brother pulled up a chair directly opposite to Alexandre.
"Now, Alexandre, tell me: how long have we known each other?"
"Five years, eight months."
"And of that time, how long have we been friends?"
"Four years, six months."
"I would have said five years, but that's fine too. So, after four and a half years of friendship, just how much money is my life worth?"
Alexandre looked like he was clenching his jaw tight enough to ache.
"Come on. It has to be a high amount, surely! I'd be insulted otherwise. We have been friends for this long; I've even had dinner with you and your wife in the last four months! And yet, despite all of that, you still try to kill me?"
"Three..."
"Three thousand? Three, what? Galleons, Sickles, Knuts? Come on, Alexandre, give me an amount. Consider it a courtesy after you trying to kill me in such a public way."
"Three hundred thousand Galleons."
George sat up a little straighter, hummed to himself and gave a slight nod. "All right, that's understandable. I might even turn myself in for that amount. Now, what about the insignia at the bottom? That means something to you, doesn't it?"
Alexandre worked very hard to shake his head, but it dissolved into a quick nod, his eyes clenched shut as tight as his jaw.
"Give me a name, Alexandre."
Silence reigned, and as Ginny watched, she could see blood seeping out of Alexandre's mouth. He was obviously biting his tongue in an effort not to talk. It looked as though he had bitten his way through his tongue.
"Remember Italy, Alexandre? You were there with me, so you know exactly what I am capable of, what the Damera name means. Do you honestly think I will let something as small as our friendship get in the way of the answers I'm seeking? You didn't let it stop you from trying to kill me, after all."
George pressed his wand under the edge of Alexandre's ribs, and the wizard let out a whimper, more blood flowing down his chin and dripping onto his lap.
"Please."
"Three hundred thousand Galleons doesn't get you a lot nowadays, you know that? A house, sure, and a brand new broom for you and the wife to go with it. And maybe a box seat for the Quidditch Championship game for the next two years, but that would probably be it. And knowing you the way I do, Alexandre, you would want the most extravagant house and broom on the market, so you may not even get those box seat tickets after all. Whoever paid you to kill me don't know you as well as I do, do they?"
The Veritaserum proved too strong and Alexandre nodded in agreement.
"Ah, but they do know you, then?"
Ginny felt somewhat queasy as she watched George questioning Alexandre, reminded all too forcefully of her own capture and torture. She watched in a morbid and detached fascination as Alexandre nodded and whimpered again. Soon, tears trekked down his cheeks to join the rivulets of blood on his chin. Ginny forced herself to look away and instead, concentrated on the pictures of the flora behind Alexandre's bound form.
"Give me a name, Alexandre. Now!" George demanded.
Alexandre's not going to give up quite so soon. He hasn't been trained in the same way that we have, but he can hold out against Veritaserum for longer than this, Ginevra muttered.
How do you know?
See the way he's clenching his hands? He's trying to use his muscles to work the Veritaserum out of his body faster. For the moment, his plan is working. If the Veritaserum is as slow-working and takes as long as George thinks, then it will eventually win out in the end.
Ginny looked away from the autumn orange trees and back to Alexandre. She saw the way he clenched his hands tightly in short bursts, his biceps expanding with each motion, and his torso pushing against the binds around him. It was an old technique that was used to help work Veritaserum out of the body faster, providing that the person that had ingested it could keep themselves mentally aware enough to actually move while under the influence of the potion. Ginny hoped that Morrigan's potion worked as well as George expected.
Shall we continue with Amelie? Ginevra offered.
Ginny waited a moment longer, watching George and Alexandre before realising that Ginevra was right. They were at a stalemate and, for the moment, there was nothing to be done. Not without going to extreme measures on George's part, and she doubted that he would succumb to that now. Ginny nodded to Ginevra's offer and closed her eyes.
As Ginevra took over to detail more of her memory as Amelie, she blinked her way awake and looked over to George.
"He's trying to work it out faster, dearest. Either hit him up with another dose, or get your dagger out and start reenacting Italy," Ginevra called, grinning.
George looked at Ginevra, realising in a split second that Ginny wasn't the one in charge. "How's your headache?"
"It's being dealt with," she replied, closing her eyes.
...
Amelie woke up in her apartment in wizarding France. Her head ached and it took a moment to recognise her furniture and the bedroom itself as her own. Seeing the sun peeking through her blinds, Amelie reached over for her pocket watch to see the time.
"Merde!" Scrambling out of bed, she cursed her grandfather's old pocket watch, stripping off her pyjamas as she headed into the bathroom. (Shit! French)
In truth, she loved the pocket watch and its broken alarm charm. It had been a gift for her 15th birthday, given to her by her mother since her grandfather had passed on almost ten years prior. Amelie could never bring herself to fix the quirks that came along with the lovely old pocket watch, even though it felt as though she had been late for every single appointment and meeting every day since her 15th birthday. Unfortunately, the same was still true today on Amelie's first day at her new job.
She rushed her way through a shower and getting dressed, her gaze flicking to the clock hanging on her wall every few minutes. Breakfast was little more than a coffee and cold plain croissant; her mother would kill her if she was still alive.
With three minutes to spare, Amelie brushed her teeth and flicked her wand to tidy her hair. She almost put her wand in her mouth instead of her toothbrush, and muttered at herself between spitting and rinsing.
"Tard... Premier jour... Idiot." (Late. First day. Idiot. French)
Double-checking that she had her wand in her sleeve and her pocket watch safely tucked away in her pocket, Amelie Apparated to the main office building for Avenir.
After receiving her name badge, Portkey, and charmed access bracelet, Amelie was taken on a tour of the building. She listened attentively, writing notes in a blank notebook and drawing a crude map that she could add to later so she wouldn't get lost. Amelie huffed as her hair fell over her face, trying to get the unruly brown locks to stay in place.
"Vorte bureau," Odette said with a bright smile and flourish of her hand. (Your desk. French)
"Merci, Odette. Où sont les toilettes?" Amelie asked, not seeing any signs. (Thank you, Odette. Where is the bathroom?)
"A la fin du couloir," Odette said, indicating back the way they had just come. (At the end of the hallway.)
"Merci," Amelie said over her shoulder, rushing towards the bathroom without trying to make it seem as though she was rushing.
Amelie sat on the toilet seat and forced herself to breathe. She noticed that her hands were shaking and glared at them, as though that would stop the motion. Her hands didn't obey her glare, so she clenched them shut and placed them firmly on her lap. Amelie hissed in pain as her left thumb smacked into her pocket watch, still tucked away in her dress pocket. She took the pocket watch out, hand aching from being so tense, and gently caressed the intricate design on the cover with her thumb. The motion calmed her, and Amelie thought of her grandfather, an old man with a stern face. No, a kind face. A kind and loving man with more laughter lines on his face than hair on his head. Someone that had loved Amelie as much as she had loved him. Yes, the memory of her Grand-pére would be important to someone like Amelie. (Grandfather.)
By the time she had stopped shaking and had composed herself enough to leave the bathroom stall, a few minutes had passed. Amelie hurried back to her desk, seeing that Odette was still waiting. A wizard had joined her, leaning on the back of Amelie's chair as he chatted with Odette.
"... toujours dans votre dette, Odette," the man said with a laugh. (Forever in your debt, Odette.)
"Cette blague n'a jamais été aussi drôle, Marcel," Odette drawled, rolling her eyes at him. (That joke has never been funny.)
Odette realised that Amelie had returned and smacked Marcel's arm. "Idiot. Partir!" she said, shooing him away from Amelie's chair. "Marcel, ceci est Amelie. Amelie, Marcel." (Idiot. Go away! Marcel, this is Amelie.)
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle," Marcel said, bowing deeply.
"Ignore le, Amelie," Odette said, shaking her head. "Café?" (Ignore him, Amelie. Coffee?)
"Oui, si vous plait," Amelie said, moving around Marcel to join Odette. (Yes, please.)
By the end of the day, Amelie and Odette were fast friends. Odette worked for Avenir's finance department and knew everything about everyone. By the end of the day, Amelie's head was spinning with names and faces that had passed by, with whispered gossip and bright laughter. When Amelie arrived to her apartment that evening, she was exhausted, and fell asleep clutching her pocket watch.
...
Amelie's first week at Avenir was frustrating, quiet, and terrifying all at once. It was a new job, so that meant opportunities to make mistakes. Her first mistake involved walking into a meeting room while a meeting was in progress. (To be honest, her second and third mistakes weren't much better, but Odette laughed even when Amelie buried her head in her hands, blushing and muttering about a hole opening up below and swallowing her.)
"Ne vous inquiétez pas, Amelie. Vous êtes nouveau; vous serez pardonnés," Odette promised, once she had settled and her laughter had stopped. (Don't worry, Amelie. You're new; you will be forgiven.)
"Pardonné pas tiré, je l'espère!" Amelie said with a groan, slowly and reluctantly lowering her hands. (Forgiven not fired, I hope!)
"Espérons," Odette said, nodding sombrely, a smile twitching at her lips. (Hopefully.)
"Vous êtes cruelle," Amelie muttered. (You're cruel.)
"Oui!" Odette quipped.
Amelie waved her hand at Odette, wanting to berate her some more, but saw Odette's eyes widen and her gaze move somewhere behind her. Amelie frowned at her friend.
"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" (What's wrong?)
"Tais toi," Odette hissed, looking down at the table, her cheeks red. (Be quiet.)
Confused, Amelie waited, glancing as two wizards walked past. The men were completely oblivious to them, talking rapidly, the shorter balding man emphasising something with a wave of his hands.
"Qui est-ce?" Amelie asked when they were out of earshot. (Who's that?)
"Jacques et Étienne. Jacques est chef de la division de projet," Odette explained. "Étienne est son deuxième en commande." (Jacques and Étienne. Jacques is the head of the project division. Étienne is his second-in-command.)
"Ah," Amelie hummed, wanting to ask more.
Odette looked to her pocket watch, cursing softly under her breath. "Désolé je dois partir. Nous parlerons plus la prochaine fois ?" (Sorry, I have to go. We'll talk more next time?"
"Oui. Ne vous excusez pas," Amelie added with a smile. (Yes. Don't apologise.)
"Au revoir," Odette called, rushing down the hallway.
Odette was already too far for Amelie to reply, so she sat at the table and took her shrunken notebook and quill from her pocket, returned both to their original sizes, and started writing. She had updated her map, finally knew where the bathrooms were on all five levels of the building, and added notes about the things she was learning throughout her day. She sketched a quick impression of Jacques and Étienne, hoping to improve those at a later date as she had with her map.
"Ah, Mademoiselle! Rejoignez-moi pour le déjeuner?" Marcel asked with a broad grin and his arms splayed in a wide welcoming impression of a hug. (Join me for lunch?)
"Non, merci," Amelie said, putting her quill and notebook away, and standing to leave. (No, thank you.)
"Pitié. La perte est la mienne," Marcel said with a long and heavy sigh. (Pity. The loss is mine.)
Amelie laughed, waved him off, and continued down the hallway to the elevators so she could return to her desk. She was at Avenir to work, not to get a boyfriend, and Amelie planned on keeping it that way.
Marcel stopped pursuing Amelie after the fourth rejection, but then there was Philippe, Josse, Henri, and Renaud. They seemed to take Marcel's rejection as an indication that they could win where their colleague had failed. She was a new game for them to play, and by the end of the third week, Amelie was sick of it. She snapped when all four men tried to jostle and shove each other out of the way to sit with her, only to knock poor Odette aside instead. Before Odette could even right herself, all four wizards were hexed and lying on the floor with their legs twisted in pretzel knots.
"Non, non, non, non! Quand je dis non, je voulais dire qu'il!" Amelie snapped, shoving her fringe back off her face, before moving to help Odette stand. (No. When I said no, I meant it!)
"Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" a firm voice demanded behind them. (What's happening?)
"Jacques! Oh. Oh, uh," Odette stammered, brushing off her dress, looking down with a blush.
"Ils me harcelaient, et ont frappé Odette," Amelie said, ignoring Jacques to check Odette over and make sure her friend was all right. (They were harassing me, and knocked Odette.)
"Et le charme?" Jacques queried. (And the [magic] charm?)
"Moi," Amelie said, finally looking at him, her chin raised slightly and daring him to defy her. Some part of her was surprised at how handsome he was, and she firmly reminded herself that she was not at Avenir to get a boyfriend. No matter how pretty his blue eyes were. (Me.)
Jacques looked from Amelie to the four men on the floor around him, and back again. He took a moment before speaking to look Amelie up and down curiously. "Un tel pouvoir pour une petite femme," he murmured. (Such power for a small woman.)
"Ne pas la réprimander, elle me protégeait," Odette said quickly, clutching Amelie's hand tight. (Don't reprimand her, she was protecting me.)
"Oui, oui. Aller. Je ferai en sorte qu'ils harcèlent plus ni de vous," Jacques promised, his eyes lingering on Amelie. (Yes. Go. I'll make sure they no longer harass either of you.)
Odette didn't wait to be told twice, practically pulling Amelie along through the building to the elevators.
"Odette - " Amelie started.
"Jacques... Il est un homme dangereux. Soyez prudent, Amelie," Odette said quickly, her cheeks still pink. She didn't wait for a reply, stepping into the arriving elevator and finally letting go of Amelie's arm. (He is a dangerous man. Be careful, Amelie.)
The elevator doors closed on Amelie's stunned form, and she could only stare at the doors long after they had shut. Needing a few extra minutes to think, Amelie walked up the four flights of stairs to get back to her desk, wondering at Odette's odd advice.
...
End of the thirty-seventh chapter.
Thank you for reading!
A/N: Just as a reminder, I now have a second account to post new stories, due to a technical fault that hasn't been resolved since last year. The link is in my profile.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter.