Disclaimer: This chapter has some words/phrases that are not in English! Here is a handy little translator for you:
Fête (French) – party
Mes filles (French) – my girls
Amsterdamse Hogeschool voor Magie (Dutch) – Amsterdam School of Magic
Santé! (French) – cheers!
Mes amies (French) – my friends
Génial! (French) – great/excellent!
Idioot (Dutch) – idiot
Also, the character Lotte de Graaf is combined effort between yours truly and PitchBlue from HPFF.
"A woman left lonely will soon grow tired of waiting. She'll do crazy things, yeah, on lonely occasions." - Janis Joplin, 1971
Marianne Minot sighed before she took a large sip from her crystal champagne flute and tried to ignore the intense boredom that was creeping into her already sour mood. She finished her drink and set it on the elaborately decorated table next to her with a practiced scowl. Although she was part of the prominent European pureblood society, she detested the social events that went along with her status.
As the alcohol burned through her veins and made her feel slightly lightheaded, the Ravenclaw delicately wiped the side of her mouth and scanned the large crowd to find her childhood best friends, Valentine Courtenay and Lotte de Graaf. However, the task proved to be too difficult. The Valois Ball was the last major fête before the Holidays ended, which meant that a large number of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were present and eager to network with the famous members of the European magical community. Marianne quickly considered casting a tracking spell, but thought against it.
She sighed again and smoothed down her silk robes, desperately wishing that she could leave the Ball and go wander the streets of Paris one more time before she went back to Hogwarts. She longed to be on the Left Bank of the city near the bohemian intellectuals and artists, but instead, her father forced her to stay on the Right Bank with the stuffy sycophants. Yet, as the song changed to a slow waltz, Marianne's eyes dropped to the floor. As much as she wanted to leave, she knew her place.
"Champagne, Mademoiselle?" a uniformed butler asked.
"Please," Marianne said and accepted a glass. As the butler wandered off, she slowly took a sip and closed her eyes. For a brief moment, she felt composed and unruffled … but her serenity was shattered when a female voice cut in.
"Miss Minot! How enchanting to see you!"
Marianne's eyes flew open and saw the Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Sabine Artro, gliding towards her with open arms. Her signature, flaming red hair was elegantly piled on the top of her head and her dark blue and gold robes showed off her small waist and large bosom. Marianne was not surprised when several of the male guests paused to look her up and down; the woman always attracted exuberant attention wherever she went. She tried not to show her indifference as she accepted Professor Artro's embrace and gave her the customary kisses on the cheek.
"How is your evening, Professor?" Marianne asked, feigning interest in the pureblood's social life.
"Oh, it's been absolutely wonderful," Professor Artro replied. But her devious grin turned into a slight frown. "But listen, I'm actually looking for Loki. Have you seen him?"
"Professor Stotch?" Marianne responded, referring to Hogwarts' standing Herbology Professor. "No, I didn't know he was here."
An awkward silence hung in the air, which gave the Ravenclaw an opportunity to read her Professor's body language. The woman tried to appear unnerved, but Marianne could see the insecurity in her stance. She was extremely perturbed.
"MARIANNE!" Valentine shrieked from across the room - immediately breaking the tension - and Marianne's stony expression cracked with a satisfied smile. The copper haired Veela latched onto her childhood friend with excitement and started to admire her expensive robes.
"You have to let me borrow these," Valentine grinned before pulling Marianne into a large hug.
"Please," Marianne smirked softly after giving her two kisses on her cheeks, "we both know you never wear black."
"And besides," Lotte muttered as she appeared over Valentine's shoulder, "you're much too tall for Marianne's clothes. And the top would barely fit -"
"Well maybe that's a good thing!" Valentine exclaimed as she frowned and looked down at her chest. "Mes filles aren't attracting any attention tonight."
"What are you talking about?" Lotte said before pulling Marianne into a hug herself. "You were just talking to that dark haired fellow who couldn't stop staring down your oh so dazzling robes."
"Ahem," Professor Artro coughed, breaking the girls' conversation. Marianne's natural smile turned into a scowl when she remembered that the woman was still standing next to her. On goes the disguise, she lamented.
"Professor, I would like you to meet my two best friends," Marianne said haughtily. She wrapped her arms around both their waists. "The illustrious Valentine Courtenay." The Beauxbatons student smirked and jutted her chin, striking a pose. "And the intelligent Lotte de Graaf." The Netherlands native looked down her slightly upward flicked nose and leaned towards Marianne in support.
"Ah, I ran into your Father earlier, Miss de Graaf," Professor Artro preened. "He said you've just been accepted to the Graduate Potions Program at Amsterdamse Hogeschool voor Magie. I'm surprised. You must have a very powerful connection there. They don't accept applicants before they take their NEWTs."
Marianne grinned, waiting for her dark blonde friend to pounce.
"You're right, they don't. In order to be accepted, I had to take my NEWTs during my Sixth Year. So I don't have a powerful connection," Lotte answered coldly. She inspected her short red nails. "I happen to be a genius."
"Sabine!" a voice shouted, saving the woman from responding. Marianne recognized Professor Stotch as he weaved through the guests towards them. "There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"Of course, Loki. It's always impossible to find anyone at these functions," Professor Artro said with a seductive smile. "I was just talking with Miss Minot and her charming friends here." Professor Stotch's dark brown eyes quickly darted from Marianne to Lotte and when he finally settled on Valentine, the Beauxbatons student pursed her lips and discretely stuck out her chest.
"Hello again," she purred. "I didn't catch your name the first time. Loki, is it?"
As the Herbology Professor aristocratically kissed the top of her hand, Marianne snuck a glance over at her other Professor. Artro's demeanor radiated with jealousy when she put two and two together and realized that Professor Stotch was the dark haired man the girls were talking about earlier.
"You must excuse us, ladies," she said as she pulled on Professor Stotch's arm, "but we have some urgent business to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening!"
"That's the third woman she's pissed off tonight," Lotte muttered playfully as they watched the woman drag her colleague across the room.
"I'm not surprised. She is a Veela after all," Marianne laughed as she flagged down a butler for more champagne. For the first time that night, the pureblood beamed with happiness. She held up her flute for a toast. "Santé mes amies. I'm glad we can see each other one last time before we go back to our schools."
"Santé!" they responded and the three girls clinked their glasses ceremoniously before taking sips. The live band started to play a foxtrot and immediately, an eager Wizard popped out of nowhere and asked Valentine to dance. Once he passed her visual test, she smirked back at her friends before downing the rest of her glass and letting him escort her on the dance floor.
"You know," Lotte drawled, "it looks like you really enjoy pushing that woman's buttons. When did you turn into such a snob?"
"Can't a Witch brag about her friends?" Marianne asked as she rolled her eyes.
"You're evading the question," her Dutch friend prodded. "And it's not just tonight – I've noticed it in your letters and when you visited a week ago. We may live in two different countries, but I can tell that you're turning into a cold-hearted bitch. Why."
Her last sentence was not a question. It was a demand for an explanation. Marianne gulped and turned away from her friend's accusatory gaze, saying nothing. Her face turned to stone, but she shivered beneath her façade.
"It's because of that Lupin boy, isn't it?"
"No!" Marianne snapped. "It has nothing to do with him."
"Thank you for still answering my question," Lotte laughed smartly as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Now what did he do?"
Marianne slowly took another sip of champagne. Outside, her demeanor was steadfast and distant; inside, her mind was whirling and screaming, unable to shoulder all the unbearable pain she felt. It begged her for release. And for one moment, she let her guard down and shot Lotte a fleeting, sorrowful glance.
"He kissed me," she said barely above a whisper.
"Bravo, that's fabulous news!" Lotte exclaimed as she put her hands on her shoulders. Marianne quickly pushed her friend's hands off her as she tried not make a scene.
"No," she growled softly, "it's not. I don't care what he has to say, that boy rejected me. And then he took another girl – another Seventh Year Ravenclaw, mind you – to the Winter Ball and had the nerve to kiss me the same night? His words are irrelevant – his conduct is inexcusable."
When Marianne caught her friend's accusatory glare, she shrunk.
"I know what you're going to say - that I should at least hear him out. But no matter what he says, how can I forgive him for his behavior? He swallowed me whole and spat me back out. I can't be treated that way." As her friend opened her mouth to respond, Marianne's emotional mask promptly returned again. "And I can't talk about this anymore either. This discussion is over and shall never be brought up again. I need a cigarette."
"Fine, go," Lotte muttered. "But I still think you're being a complete idioot."
"Duly noted," Marianne sneered as she brushed by Lotte to head to the grand open doors. The pureblood shivered when she stepped out into the cold night air and immediately pulled out her wand, cigarettes and vintage black holder from her purse. She lit the tobacco as soon as she could, inhaled deeply and looked out at the exquisite view of the French capital.
"Well if it isn't Miss Marianne Minot," a voice drawled from across the balcony. She turned to see Rabastan emerge from the shadows. "I would have recognized that scowl anywhere."
She almost cursed in annoyance, but as she took another drag from her cigarette, the pureblood's cold hard façade grew stronger. It was the only way she knew how to deal with gits like Lestrange.
"Rabastan," Marianne said indifferently as she focused her attention elsewhere. He was intrigued by her never the less and slowly circled behind her as he sucked on the end of his own cigarette. Marianne continued to look out straight in front of her, but out of the corner of her eye, saw Rabastan slyly licking his lips.
"How many times have you been to the Valois Mansion, Miss Minot?" he smirked.
"Countless."
"So you know the place very well, no?"
"I do."
"Génial! I need you to give me directions."
"Directions?" Marianne questioned as she took another drag. "To where?"
"It's to – how do you say – a private party," the Slytherin said. "It's in the Évreux Wing."
"But those apartments are abandoned," Marianne challenged. "Why are you going there?"
"My my, you ask a lot of questions," Rabastan jested with a slight laugh. "And I already told you. I'm going to a private party." His emphasis on the exclusivity of the secret gathering gave her pause. It was almost as if he was taunting her with the information.
"Last one, I promise," Marianne said before she took another drag from her cigarette. "Why should I help you?"
"If you give me the information I want," he oozed dramatically as he threw a not so discreet glance at her cleavage, "I will leave you to your cigarette."
"Go up the main staircase to the Fourth Floor, turn left at the second door, then right after the third window - you will find a secret staircase behind the water lily landscape painting," she spit out as fast as she could. "Now leave."
"As you wish, my lady," Rabastan said with a deep, aristocratic bow. "But I suggest you explore this Mansion more often."
"Excuse me?"
"You must start on the Fifth Floor, not the Fourth, to get to the Évreux Wing."
Rabastan threw her a quick wink and seconds later, vanished into a crowd of people with a swish of his cloak.
Marianne felt her brain go into overdrive. What was this private party? Who was there? What were they doing? And most importantly, why the hell did he ask her for directions when he already knew the way? She continued to stew as she looked out at the Paris skyline, for Rabastan's taunt was only the tip of the iceberg; she sucked on the end of her cigarette holder as she finally started to process her earlier conversation with Lotte. She decided then and there that she was tired of being pushed around by the opposite sex. She was going to take action.
A newfound anger pulsed through her antagonistic frame of mind. The Ravenclaw took Rabastan's bait and allowed her devilish side to investigate his cryptic challenge. Instead of being rational and levelheaded, Marianne threw her cigarette to the ground, smashed it with her platform suede heel and quickly made her way to the abandoned Évreux Wing. She had to know what was going on.
Once Marianne reached the apartments, she put on her black cloak and pulled its hood over her head to disguise herself. She saw a flickering light near the deserted Ballroom at the end of the hall and crept down the corridor without making a noise. She slipped between the two open doors and noticed that the Ballroom was filled with people dressed exactly like her.
She had found the secret gathering, but was not prepared for its purpose.
The room turned dark and cold and Marianne's heart began to race. She watched a dark cloud begin to form at the front of the crowd and when it reached a sizeable mass, she held back a fearful whimper as a cloaked figure fluidly emerged from behind it. When he fully materialized, the Wizard pulled back his hood and exhibited his face; his hand reached out and vainly smoothed his perfectly combed over dark hair. When he returned it to his side, his eyes matched his hard and sinister expression.
"Good evening, my faithful," Lord Voldemort hissed.
"My Lord!" the crowd called out as they bowed in unison. Marianne, however, melted into the shadows when she realized she had blindly walked into a Death Eater meeting. How did she let herself get into this deep of trouble? How could she have been so stupid?
"I am pleased to see so many of you accepted my invitation," Voldemort sneered. "Eight years ago, only a few pureblood families believed in the Cause. But our vision is a fundamental concept of life – it is foolish to deny the fact that Muggles are inferior to purebloods. And therefore, it is time to unite. I have called you here tonight to finally bundle together all the branches of my operation. Some of you have high positions in Wizarding governments. Some of you wear the judicial robes. Others influence high society and several work in Europe's biggest banking institutions. And a few of you are right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, recruiting the next generation of combatants …"
Marianne's heart skipped.
"Together, we have the passion, resources and collective strength to prevail. So it is imperative that we put aside our cultural divisions and deliver a swift and simultaneous blow. Soon, we will show Europe – and the entire world – that purebloods are the superior race. And we will not be silenced!"
Voldemort's mouth turned into a sharp smirk.
"It is now time to welcome another comrade to our movement."
A cloaked figure appeared next to him. Voldemort quickly snatched the Wizard's arm and pulled up his sleeve. His forearm was bare, but Marianne knew that was about to change when she saw Voldemort tap his wand on their skin.
"Do you pledge your service to me? Do you bestow your loyalty to the Mission? Do you accept this pact - this binding covenant - Rabastan Lestrange? Will you give your soul for the Cause?"
Anxiety, dread, panic, fright and horror consumed her. It all made sense now. Rabastan wanted her to be here – to witness him becoming a Death Eater.
Before he could give his answer, Marianne darted out the doors; she held a hand in front of her mouth to keep from crying out as she dashed out of the Wing and threw herself into the nearest cupboard when she reached one of the main floors. After Marianne slammed the door shut and cast a Silencing Charm, she became one with the dark. Her extreme apprehension left her body as she hysterically sobbed and banged her fists against the wood with guilt and shame.
Her pretentious demeanor was nowhere in sight.
Author's Note: Please review, I love hearing from everyone!