A/N: And now for yet another drastic protagonal character change! Hey, it's been five chapters, it's about time I messed with her! Here you go.

Chapter Forty-Four: A Growing Sense of Dread

Chloe was having a splendid holiday. She had gone with her parents to a café the instant she had gotten off the train, and nice as England was, those Brits didn't know a thing about cocoa compared to the French and Swiss. After the café and a lovely ride home in a horse-drawn carriage amid the snow, Chloe had gone to the stable and visited her favorite of the Delacour-Davies' several equines. There was Noirè, the lovely black carriage horse, Marie, her dappled mare she rode in summertime, and a beautiful matched pair of uniquines named Chekhov and Lautrec. Uniquines were a rare cross between unicorns and horses with shining, almost multichromatic coats and shining eyes. Sure enough, Chloe found her seven-year-old brother grooming them and the pair had spent a lovely afternoon with their four-legged pets.

That very night, however, Chloe got the best Christmas surprise of the entire year. She had just gotten her pajamas on when she went to open her trunk.

Inside was a very cold and sheepish-looking Aldous.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in rapid-fire French.

"Er…didn't want to stay at school, hitched a ride, sort of?"

"Are you mad? My father will kill you when he…good heavens, Papà!" She ran and hastily locked the door. "Have you any idea what would happen…if you were found?" Panting from the stress, Chloe gasped out the words. Aldous stepped out of the trunk and hurried to hold her hand.

"Are you alright? …this was a bad time, wasn't it?"

"Oh, no, Aldous, I just…wasn't expecting you."

"Clearly."

"What are you doing?"

"Covering my eyes."

"Why? Is it too bright after the dark trunk?"

"Er, no, just, er…what exactly are you wearing?"

"Oh, these? They're only pajamas."

"They aren't much more."

Chloe realized Aldous was blushing worse then the time he overheard Mitchie and Julie arguing about wizard or Muggle bras. With a rather mischievous smile, she pulled on her robe over the diaphanous sleeping clothes.

"Is 'at better?" she inquired in English.

"Er, y-yes," Aldous shivered.

"But you're freezing!" she observed in relative horror. "Get into bed now, before you catch your death!"

"What?!"

"You. Bed. Warm. Now."

"Chloe, doesn't that seem just a little-?"

"Aldous, do as I say," she commanded him.

"Alright…what if your dad-?"

"He's listening to the Quidditch match on the radio. It could be hours before Chile beats Argentina."

"And your mum?"

"She fancies the games just as much as Dad. If I weren't so-" Chloe suddenly yawned, "-tired, I'd be down 'zhere as well."

"Shall I go?" Aldous asked a bit nervously.

"Go? Where? You're freezing and you're going to stay with me. A girl could always use another teddy bear."

With that, Chloe hopped into the four-poster and pulled the covers around them both. "Actually, it's kind of nice that you're 'ere. You can see some of those sites in Montmartre you're doing 'zhat report about."

"Chloe, don't you think it's kind of…improper, though, for us to share a bed like this?"

"Improper? You're the one who just crossed the Channel with my books and clothes." The little part-veela took Aldous's glasses and placed them on the night table before making the lights go out. "And no, I don't mind spending the night with you. You're quite cuddly."

Just then, Aldous kissed her full on the mouth. For once in her life, Chloe couldn't think of a thing to say. The times she had been kissed non-platonically she could count on one hand without needing more than a thumb, and even then it had been businesslike, testing Polytongue Potion with Aldous. This was something entirely new –and nice.

"Is that why you 'itched a ride in my trunk?" she asked after a few seconds. Aldous smiled a bit sheepishly.

"That, and I knew I'd miss you a lot, Chloe."

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Severus lowered his wand and picked up his glass.

"Is the picture straight?"

Julie gave the oil painting a scrutinizing look.

"Yep."

"Good, because I'm bloody hungry. Want to go get lunch now?"

"Sure. Shall I make salads?"

"I was thinking a roast bear for each of us."

"How 'bout stew again?"

"That would be splendid, yes."

"I think that Whoever might need a crib." Severus sighed and pointed his wand at the door again.

"Accio crib."

And the crib bloody well accio'd. It was very lucky little Whoever's room had double doors. Julie and her father were having an absolute field day decorating the baby's room.

"It's an awfully nice one."

"Thank you. It was mine once."

"You know, Dad, I can't really quite picture you as a baby."

"I looked sort of like I do now, only chubby and illiterate and much shorter. You were a very cute baby, you know."

"Was I? I keep forgetting you and Mum saw that."

"You were a wonderful baby, looked so much like your mother it was frightening." As they walked, a genuinely odd smell became evident. Severus suddenly burst into a run.

"Dad, what is it?"

"She's developing them!"

"Developing?"

Julie followed her dad with an expression of total confusion. Developing?

She was answered when they got to the huge basement Potions lab. Hermione had somehow made clotheslines appear everywhere; it looked like parchment laundry day.

"Okay, what's going on?" she asked in curiosity.

"Come over here," her mother invited. Julie crossed to the other side of the room and saw the reverse side of all the parchments.

This was the wizarding method of photography.

"I had forgotten this," Julie said, looking at her seven-year-old self first using a card catalogue at the library. She was very short and in order to reach the 'Ca-Ce' drawer had pulled out several lower letters to use as steps. Another picture showed herself at age fourteen or so in a circus ringmaster's coat, holding what looked like a horn off a ram with her lip bleeding. Considering the cut, she was grinning a bit broadly. "That was probably my favorite show I did back there."

"I think you might have overdone it with the shofar just a bit, though, dear."

"Alright, I know I keep asking this, but just how much did you two go and see?"

"Well, the time you hot-wired Judy Parkington's car and had the boot filled with assorted inappropriate articles comes to mind. Teaching you to drive won't be so difficult, after all."

"I was afraid you'd find that one out."

"And that report you wrote when you were nine on Sir Noel Coward for history, we've seen a lot of good things you did when you were little."

"Like this," Severus indicated a picture of Julie trying to train Anthony with peanuts. As the picture moved, the ferret appeared to be looking for the treat in her hair. "I didn't know you had so many people who liked you."

"It never seemed like I had all that many."

"Believe us, you do. You've been very quiet since we got home, Julie."

"Yes, it's very unlike you…we know that now."

"I guess it's just me worrying 'bout the mission then."

There was a tense pause.

"Julie, if you don't want to do it, noone's forcing-"

"No! I said I'd do it, I'm doing it! Minister Dumbledore asked me."

"Speaking of," Severus remarked quietly, "this came today." The professor handed a sheaf of parchments and photographs to his wife out of his robe pocket. "It's the first report from the American Auror Office."

"Good news?" Julie asked hopefully.

"Sort of," her father said. "The Americans have the entire charade set up a bit ahead of schedule. The German Aurorscheidt has entered the equation on our side, and they built a Dark lair for you in New Orleans."

"Really? Can I keep it after?" Julie asked jokingly.

"Dear, it's the Germans. They can probably fold it like parchment to the size of a Knut for you."

"Actually," Severus remarked, "it's probable the lair will need to be destroyed if you experience a home confrontation there. The bad news, American intelligence has detected de Diablo noticed it. You'll need to be leaving in March instead of May."

The silence from Julie was tangible.

"Will I get to see the baby before I go?"

"Most definitely."

"I'd better owl Mitchie and Chloe then."

"Albus already has. Well, Fleur knows, at least, we're supposed to tell Mitchie when she gets back from Donaghan's."

"It was awfully nice of you guys to sign on as her foster folks."

"We would have anyway. We were next on the list, you know."

"Sev!" Hermione protested. "You're the one who suggested Albus bring her from America!"

"Really, Dad?"

Severus looked a bit sheepish.

"You could say that."

"Well, don't just stand there like a lump who wears black, give me details, Dad!"

"Albus knew you'd need backup and I asked him if the Tylers had a kid your age. They did, so he owled and got her, on her conditions. You'd better not be thinking of spreading this about Gryffindor tower, girl."

"I'll consider it the darkest secret in the world, Daddy," Julie said rather sarcastically. "Do Uncle Ron and Malfoy know also, then?"

"Everyone's been owled a copy of the first report."

"Could I see it?"

"Er…"

"I think that should be alright."

"Dear, I…"

Severus gave Hermione a look and she reluctantly handed Julie the report. As the fifteen-year-old read through it, her parents waited nervously for her to find the photographs.

"This is de Diablo?" Julie asked with a bit of an incredulous smile. "Reminds me of my bloody math teacher…good lord, who's-?"

Julie had found the picture of the latest Muggle victim. But for the fact that this girl's hair was a lightish brown and she lacked the prominent Snape nose, the Muggle might have been her twin sister. "She looks like me."

"She was only a little bit older than you."

"Older than me?"

"About five months. Her name was-"

"Don't tell me, I don't want to know."

"Is something wrong, Julie?"

"Not especially, I mean, it's kind of a shock when you see a victim who looks like you, but I can handle it."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, quite. America's not necessarily going to be a Quidditch game, but it's not like I wasn't picked for a reason."

"Do you understand why de Diablo's doing this?"

"I get the impression he's bitter about something in his past."

"His parents were killed by Muggle radicals. Not because they were wizards, but because of their nationality. This kind of violence happens a lot in America."

"I see," Julie said in a frozen voice.

"Dear, you really don't have to-"

"Yes, I do. Apart from the mission, did you know Professor McGonagall's letting me do Advanced Transfiguration soon?"

"Dear, that's wonderful! Animagic?"

"Yeah, I've got a whole list of books to read. Okay if I run up and bring down a few of them?"

"Sure."

And Julie left, presumably to get some books. Her parents could tell she was very upset, however. In spite of being able to fake excitement and change the subject, their daughter couldn't conceal her teeth clenching and her hands folding into tight fists. She did look a lot like her father when she was angry, and right now both parent and child were.

"Somehow I expected it to scare her off!" Severus raged.

"Well, it didn't, dear, you know she's a Gryffindor."

"Half, dear, we never did figure which."

"Well, what now? She's twice as determined and she speaks to us less every day."

"Maybe I can convince Albus to involve a third party in this."

"Like whom? There's already the Americans, Canadians, and British involved, not to mention Germany-"

"I was thinking maybe one of those covert organizations the Muggles keep making films about…what do they call them?"

"Do you mean like, the FBI?"

"No, with all the Italian accents and people in casinos, what's that lot called?"

"You want to call in the wizarding Mafia?"

"If that's its' name."

"Severus, the Mafia's an organized crime outfit."

"I've dealt with that kind before. They can certainly dispose of one little Latino git."

"And what would that solve?"

"It would keep my daughter from having to ride into that hellhole and bail out the colonies!"

"Severus, don't you read? Calling in criminals would only worsen what's going on."

"Well, how would you suggest getting her out of this?"

"I don't know, dear. Julie seems to be as obstinate as you sometimes."

"The report said she's going to need a decoy, too, the Americans insist on it."

"Then I'll find the most trustworthy person possible."

"The most trustworthy person who looks like Julie."

"Albus wrote me a note on whom I should look for. Polyjuice won't work entirely, so Tyler can't do it. She's too redhaired and not pale enough. Chloe Davies isn't tall enough and far too blond. We need someone with black hair and pale skin-"

"Jennifer Blodgett."

"She detests Julie."

"Are you certain? They've never fought at school."

"Believe me, Jennifer Blodgett is not someone I'd trust with my daughter's life."

"Who else looks that much like her at the school?"

"Maybe. I'm still going to suggest to Albus that they find one among the Americans."

Suddenly Hermione looked very strange. "Dear, what's wrong?"

"I think the baby kicked."

Severus smiled, bent down and addressed her stomach:

"No, you aren't old enough."

****************************************************************

The time had, at last, come for Chloe to take the train home from Paris. For some bizarre reason, she was refusing all help with her heavy trunk at the train platform, as she had all holiday.

"Chloe, mais petit, do you need help with 'zat trunk?"

"Oh, no Mamà, I can handle it."

"Are you sure, dear?" her dad asked. "It looks heavy."

"Non, merci, Papà, I can 'andle it."

Just then the clasp broke and the trunk fell open. A black-haired boy of about fifteen had been hiding in it for what had to have been the entire holiday.

"And 'oo is 'zis?" her mother inquired, horrified.

After a split second of guilty shock, Chloe grinned and covered her footprints royally:

"My Portkey worked! Mamà, 'zis is Aldous." She then turned on her boyfriend with a exasperated expression. "What took you so long to open your present?"

"I met the wrong end of one of the Weasleys' jokes Christmas Eve and spent a little while in the Hospital Wing," the Chaser lied glibly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Davies."

"Hey, I know you, the Gryffindor Chaser! What's the Slytherin defense been like this season?"

Chloe winked at Aldous, who smiled back and began to chat animatedly with her dad.

'Men and Quidditch,' she thought with a sly grin.

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"It was very nice meeting you, Mr. McPhersen," Mitchie said to Donaghan's grandfather. It had taken her quite awhile to get used to him, but the kilted gentleman had really been quite friendly.

Minus, of course, his reaction when Donaghan brought her home:

"And this mus' be yehr friend Mitch- bly'me, yeh're a gel!" Donalbein McPhersen turned on his grandson. "Donaghan!"

"Yeh, Granddad?"

"'Ave yeh no sense of decency whats'ever, boy? Yeh don' guh askin' lassies out to th' bloody Peatbog unchap'roned! It's unmoral!"

"Granddad, yeh're here, it's no' like I jes' asked 'er up t' th' Peatbog alone!"

"I guess yeh're righ', but yeh keep yeh intentions intentionable!" The translucent Scotsman, having finished lecturing his grandson, turned cheerfully to the American. "Donnie's wrote me 'bout yeh, lassie, jes' not some details. Yeh're from th' Colonies, aren't y?"

The Peatbog, as the McPhersen family residence was known, was a positively wonderful place, despite being inhabited mostly by ghosts. Donaghan and Mitchie were the only two living people there. It had been eerie at the first, Mitchie admitted that, but once you were used to everybody but your boyfriend and yourself walking through walls and being slightly see-through, it was very pleasant. Grandfather Donalbein had taken to like her immediately, especially when he discovered she played guitar. The ghostly patriarch was a master bagpiper, and his grandson's lack of aptitude in it was evidently a family touchy point. Old Scottish songs had positively haunted the surrounding sea and moors for the entire week.

Bringing up Donaghan's being a werewolf was more difficult. By the fourth day, it didn't look like he would ever have the nerve, and Mitchie was just trying to talk him into it when a spectral owl arrived from Minister Dumbledore explaining everything. Donalbein wasn't too pleased at the start, but when Mitchie showed him her star and explained she was one as well, he seemed absolutely fine with it. In fact, Mitchie could have sworn his only qualm about lycanthropy was the belief that most werewolves were never able to marry.

Now that was a thought she found eerie, to say the least!

"Th' pleasure was all mine, lassie. Keep well, y'." Donalbein gave her and his grandson a benevolent grin before floating back up to the Peatbog to wave goodbye. "And fly careful, the mists are thick as soup t'night!"

Smiling, Donaghan helped Mitchie onto his broom and they flew back towards Hogwarts.

"I get th' impression 'e liked y', Mitch."

"D'you think so?"

"I kna' so. T'was wonderful."

Mitchie turned around a bit and kissed Donaghan on the lips. They spent the entire rest of the trip leaning together with his arms tight around her against the wind.

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The spell never took longer than a few seconds, probably because she was so used to it. The first day of classes after break could not be attended with raw bruises making her look like she ran into the wrong kind of willow tree. It was a simple enough spell and quite effective, provided noone used a different charm on the area she was covering. Thank whatever gods existed that the Hogwarts school uniform had a collar.

Before she could finish concealing the ravages brought on by butterbeer before an inter-House holiday game, however, the doorknob rattled. Jen put down her wand. Best not to bother until she had all of them to cover. A new batch was sure to be added if the 'Alohomora' worked.

It did. Twenty minutes later, she had fixed everything but the pain and the swelling inside her cheeks. Noone would find out her dark secret.

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A/N: Sorry these chapters are taking so damned long to upload, there's a server problem in my area.