A very little bit of French in this chapter. For translation, go to:
babelfish.altavista.com
Voldemort's Amnesia Jewel Little Bird Chapter Three
The Day Before:
Dumbledore had looked from Severus Snape to Sirius Black. "You know what you are to do."
"Yes," they'd answered.
Snape hadn't answered, but Black had. "We'll try our best, Headmaster, but I'm afraid we can't give you any guarantees."
Dumbledore had handed Snape a note. "This is the address of the witch who lived in that town. She is one of the few there, and someone I'm sure will be glad to allow you to stay. I believe you two know her. A certain Fleur De'Lacour."
Black had smiled. "Ah, yes, the lovely young woman that taught Defense Against the Dark Arts during Harry's fifth year."
Snape had felt a thrill go down his spine. "Yes. Fleur..." and my daughter, he had thought. "It's been a while."
It had been four years since he last saw Fleur. Oh, he'd gotten pictures of her, but it wasn't the same. And it didn't help to know that he had a daughter who didn't even know he existed. The pictures that Fleur had sent to him of little Lily never ceased to amaze him; his offspring definitely got her looks from his side of the family. He'd never met the child, but he had always wanted to know her.
Now he had the chance.
Snape and Black were to head to Haverhill, Massachusetts in the United States on orders from Dumbledore. However, Haverhill had the least amount of witches and wizards in the world, which meant that Snape and Black had to dress like Muggles, like it or not. It wouldn't have been so bad if Dumbledore hadn't insisted that they (both from wizarding families) went clothing shopping with someone Muggle born: Hermione Granger.
Black hadn't cared what Hermione picked out for him, but Snape told her in no uncertain terms that he'd kill her if she tried to get him in anything other than solid black. So, while Black had left the store with a rather wide selection of pants, shirts, and socks ranging from red to lilac, Snape had left with a bunch of black turtlenecks, black pants, and black socks... complimented with a pair of black leather boots and a black leather jacket that Hermione had somehow talked him into getting.
All in all, he had looked in the mirror and thought that he wouldn't look out of place on a motorcycle.
Nonetheless, he rather liked the effect of the Muggle clothing. So had Hermione. She'd sputtered and turned red when she saw him in one of the outfits he'd picked. "Professor," she'd squeaked, not at all sounding like her usual know-it-all self (thankfully), "you... you look... damn good!"
He'd looked down at himself. Black denim jeans, black cotton turtleneck, and the leather jacket covered him from neck to toe, similar to his robes. Unlike his robes, however, the outfit didn't hide the fact that he was in shape. "You think?"
Even Black had looked impressed. "If you'd worn that to school, Snape," he had said with a smirk, "you'd have gotten a lot more girlfriends."
Snape had only just barely managed to keep himself from murdering Black right then and there.
Present Time:
He'd dreamed of this day, when he'd finally be able to be with Fleur again. Now, here he was, standing on her doorstep and looking at every inch of her. She hadn't changed one bit. He had purposely worn the outfit that had impressed Hermione and that damnable Black, mostly because it was comfortable, but also to see if Fleur approved; if she did, he'd wear it more often. From the way her eyes examined him with interest, he assumed she did.
"May I come in, Fleur?" he asked quietly.
She noticed the suitcase behind him and smiled slightly. She seemed pleased. "Sure, but try to be quiet."
Only a few minutes later, they were in her kitchen, trying not to touch each other but desperately wanting to, if only to make sure this wasn't a dream. The clock above the refrigerator ticked in the silence. He leaned against the wall and raised an eyebrow at her. "Where is she?" he asked finally.
"Upstairs. In bed."
"Can I see her? In the morning, I mean."
"You can see her now. She's a heavy sleeper."
"I'm sure I could, but I want to be able to talk to her."
"Do you want to tell her?"
"Not now. Maybe later, when I get to know her better." He took a deep breath. She wasn't going to ask, so he might as well do so. "May I hold you? Now?"
He didn't have to ask twice; she practically threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. He held her close to him with his right arm, running the fingers of his left hand through her hair. "I missed you, Severus," she whispered to him.
"I missed you, too, Fleur." He kissed the top of her head.
She pulled herself out of his embrace, but then took his left hand and rubbed her cheek against his palm. She smiled at him. "You've no idea how much I've dreamed of this."
He smiled back. "Probably about as much as I have. I just noticed... your accent is gone." Pity. He'd liked it.
She shrugged. "Neecole insisted on giving me lessons in pronouncing things. Ironic, considering HER accent, no?" She ran her hand down his left forearm lovingly.
He snatched his arm away reflexively, breathing deeply to control the sudden pain. "Sorry," he apologized at her look of shock. "It's a bit... tender there."
She frowned, then grabbed his hand again. She pulled up his shirtsleeve, revealing the tripled bandage wrapped around his forearm. Blood was blossoming on the white gauze. "Sit down," she ordered, still holding his arm. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it, conjuring a piece of leather. "Put this in your mouth and bite down hard." He did so. "Now, instead of shouting with pain, I want you to bite down on the leather. Alright?" He nodded.
By the time she was done ripping off the bandages, he was surprised that he hadn't bitten clear through the damn leather. He didn't look as she studied the wound. He knew what he'd see if he did: the skin had been skillfully removed from his forearm, conveniently removing the Dark Mark with it, leaving a very painful (and bloody) wound.
When she reached for her wand again, he stopped her. "Don't," he said, taking the leather from his mouth. "If you heal it magically, the Dark Mark comes back as well. I have to let it heal the long way to see if that works."
She nodded. "Do not move. I will be right back." She left the kitchen, went through the dining room to the living room, and disappeared up another flight of stairs. While she was gone, he looked around, holding his arm up and trying not to let blood drip to the floor.
Besides the dining room door, there were three other doors leading out of the kitchen. One was opposite the dining room door, and he guessed it let outside since it was the only one that had a lock on it. The wall to the right of the outside had two windows in it, one on either side of the fridge. There was a counter pressed to the wall from the right side of the fridge to the left of the dining room door. The last wall had the other two doors in it; one led to what looked like a combination pantry and laundry room, the other appeared to be a bedroom.
Fleur finally came back, more bandages and a large bottle clutched in her hands. "Come to the sink," she commanded, waking to it and setting her burdens down. He did so; she told him to hold his arm over the sink while she opened the large bottle. "How did this happen?" she asked, pouring a clear liquid over the wound. Everywhere it touched blood, it began to fizz and sting.
"I had Black sharpen a knife so it had a paper thin edge, then knock me out. He then used the knife to remove the skin that the Dark Mark was on while I was out cold, making sure that no sign of it would be left. He tried to heal it, but when he did, the Mark came back. I have to let it heal normally and hope that the Dark Mark will not come back with it."
"Black? Sirius Black?" She whipped a towel out of a drawer and proceeded to pat dry his arm, except where the wound was.
"Yes. Him." He practically spat out the words.
"When?" She began wrapping the bandages around his arm. The wound had finally stopped bleeding. He looked at the bottle with surprise, noting that it was labeled Hydrogen Peroxide. He had to look into the formula of that potion.
"Earlier today. He didn't seem so loath to have to do it twice." He thought for a moment. "Actually, he seemed to like the idea."
"Where is he?"
"Waiting outside in his mongrel form for one of us to go out and call him in."
She finished her work, pulled down his sleeve gently, and glared at him. "And when were you planning on telling me about him?"
"Well, I have the delightful idea of telling you in the morning...." He shut his mouth at her look. If he wasn't careful, he'd have to deal with her claws. Literally.
"Why is he waiting outside in the first place?"
He looked her in the eyes and sighed. "The thing is, Fleur, I'm here on business, and Black is supposed to be helping me. I wanted to see you for a while without him hanging around. 'Sides, he deserves to wait."
Her eyes softened, but not much. "Oh, yes," she said softly to herself. "You my not be as cruel as before, but you are most certainly Severus." She kissed him on the cheek. "Sit down while I go call Black." She gathered up her items and left again.
You may not be as cruel as before, she had said. He frowned. Had he really changed that much after four years?
When she returned, Black trailing after her (human again), Snape had seated himself near the back door. She went about making a pot of tea, stopped, and looked over shoulder from one to the other. "Take of your coats and stay awhile," she said sarcastically. They did so. "So, why are you here?"
Black, who was dressed in a yellow plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers answered her. "You've heard what happened to Voldemort and Harry."
"Yes. Everyone in the wizarding world knows by now. They're dead."
"Yes... and no. One of them is still alive, we're just not sure who."
She whirled in surprise. "WHAT? But... but there were two piles of ashes! Human ashes!"
"No. There was only one. One of them was killed and then incinerated. The other was sent magically to somewhere within this town. We just don't know whom."
The teakettle she held slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, spilling water everywhere. "Voldemort pourrait encore ĂȘtre vivant?!"
@
End of Chapter Three
Voldemort's Amnesia Jewel Little Bird Chapter Three
The Day Before:
Dumbledore had looked from Severus Snape to Sirius Black. "You know what you are to do."
"Yes," they'd answered.
Snape hadn't answered, but Black had. "We'll try our best, Headmaster, but I'm afraid we can't give you any guarantees."
Dumbledore had handed Snape a note. "This is the address of the witch who lived in that town. She is one of the few there, and someone I'm sure will be glad to allow you to stay. I believe you two know her. A certain Fleur De'Lacour."
Black had smiled. "Ah, yes, the lovely young woman that taught Defense Against the Dark Arts during Harry's fifth year."
Snape had felt a thrill go down his spine. "Yes. Fleur..." and my daughter, he had thought. "It's been a while."
It had been four years since he last saw Fleur. Oh, he'd gotten pictures of her, but it wasn't the same. And it didn't help to know that he had a daughter who didn't even know he existed. The pictures that Fleur had sent to him of little Lily never ceased to amaze him; his offspring definitely got her looks from his side of the family. He'd never met the child, but he had always wanted to know her.
Now he had the chance.
Snape and Black were to head to Haverhill, Massachusetts in the United States on orders from Dumbledore. However, Haverhill had the least amount of witches and wizards in the world, which meant that Snape and Black had to dress like Muggles, like it or not. It wouldn't have been so bad if Dumbledore hadn't insisted that they (both from wizarding families) went clothing shopping with someone Muggle born: Hermione Granger.
Black hadn't cared what Hermione picked out for him, but Snape told her in no uncertain terms that he'd kill her if she tried to get him in anything other than solid black. So, while Black had left the store with a rather wide selection of pants, shirts, and socks ranging from red to lilac, Snape had left with a bunch of black turtlenecks, black pants, and black socks... complimented with a pair of black leather boots and a black leather jacket that Hermione had somehow talked him into getting.
All in all, he had looked in the mirror and thought that he wouldn't look out of place on a motorcycle.
Nonetheless, he rather liked the effect of the Muggle clothing. So had Hermione. She'd sputtered and turned red when she saw him in one of the outfits he'd picked. "Professor," she'd squeaked, not at all sounding like her usual know-it-all self (thankfully), "you... you look... damn good!"
He'd looked down at himself. Black denim jeans, black cotton turtleneck, and the leather jacket covered him from neck to toe, similar to his robes. Unlike his robes, however, the outfit didn't hide the fact that he was in shape. "You think?"
Even Black had looked impressed. "If you'd worn that to school, Snape," he had said with a smirk, "you'd have gotten a lot more girlfriends."
Snape had only just barely managed to keep himself from murdering Black right then and there.
Present Time:
He'd dreamed of this day, when he'd finally be able to be with Fleur again. Now, here he was, standing on her doorstep and looking at every inch of her. She hadn't changed one bit. He had purposely worn the outfit that had impressed Hermione and that damnable Black, mostly because it was comfortable, but also to see if Fleur approved; if she did, he'd wear it more often. From the way her eyes examined him with interest, he assumed she did.
"May I come in, Fleur?" he asked quietly.
She noticed the suitcase behind him and smiled slightly. She seemed pleased. "Sure, but try to be quiet."
Only a few minutes later, they were in her kitchen, trying not to touch each other but desperately wanting to, if only to make sure this wasn't a dream. The clock above the refrigerator ticked in the silence. He leaned against the wall and raised an eyebrow at her. "Where is she?" he asked finally.
"Upstairs. In bed."
"Can I see her? In the morning, I mean."
"You can see her now. She's a heavy sleeper."
"I'm sure I could, but I want to be able to talk to her."
"Do you want to tell her?"
"Not now. Maybe later, when I get to know her better." He took a deep breath. She wasn't going to ask, so he might as well do so. "May I hold you? Now?"
He didn't have to ask twice; she practically threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. He held her close to him with his right arm, running the fingers of his left hand through her hair. "I missed you, Severus," she whispered to him.
"I missed you, too, Fleur." He kissed the top of her head.
She pulled herself out of his embrace, but then took his left hand and rubbed her cheek against his palm. She smiled at him. "You've no idea how much I've dreamed of this."
He smiled back. "Probably about as much as I have. I just noticed... your accent is gone." Pity. He'd liked it.
She shrugged. "Neecole insisted on giving me lessons in pronouncing things. Ironic, considering HER accent, no?" She ran her hand down his left forearm lovingly.
He snatched his arm away reflexively, breathing deeply to control the sudden pain. "Sorry," he apologized at her look of shock. "It's a bit... tender there."
She frowned, then grabbed his hand again. She pulled up his shirtsleeve, revealing the tripled bandage wrapped around his forearm. Blood was blossoming on the white gauze. "Sit down," she ordered, still holding his arm. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it, conjuring a piece of leather. "Put this in your mouth and bite down hard." He did so. "Now, instead of shouting with pain, I want you to bite down on the leather. Alright?" He nodded.
By the time she was done ripping off the bandages, he was surprised that he hadn't bitten clear through the damn leather. He didn't look as she studied the wound. He knew what he'd see if he did: the skin had been skillfully removed from his forearm, conveniently removing the Dark Mark with it, leaving a very painful (and bloody) wound.
When she reached for her wand again, he stopped her. "Don't," he said, taking the leather from his mouth. "If you heal it magically, the Dark Mark comes back as well. I have to let it heal the long way to see if that works."
She nodded. "Do not move. I will be right back." She left the kitchen, went through the dining room to the living room, and disappeared up another flight of stairs. While she was gone, he looked around, holding his arm up and trying not to let blood drip to the floor.
Besides the dining room door, there were three other doors leading out of the kitchen. One was opposite the dining room door, and he guessed it let outside since it was the only one that had a lock on it. The wall to the right of the outside had two windows in it, one on either side of the fridge. There was a counter pressed to the wall from the right side of the fridge to the left of the dining room door. The last wall had the other two doors in it; one led to what looked like a combination pantry and laundry room, the other appeared to be a bedroom.
Fleur finally came back, more bandages and a large bottle clutched in her hands. "Come to the sink," she commanded, waking to it and setting her burdens down. He did so; she told him to hold his arm over the sink while she opened the large bottle. "How did this happen?" she asked, pouring a clear liquid over the wound. Everywhere it touched blood, it began to fizz and sting.
"I had Black sharpen a knife so it had a paper thin edge, then knock me out. He then used the knife to remove the skin that the Dark Mark was on while I was out cold, making sure that no sign of it would be left. He tried to heal it, but when he did, the Mark came back. I have to let it heal normally and hope that the Dark Mark will not come back with it."
"Black? Sirius Black?" She whipped a towel out of a drawer and proceeded to pat dry his arm, except where the wound was.
"Yes. Him." He practically spat out the words.
"When?" She began wrapping the bandages around his arm. The wound had finally stopped bleeding. He looked at the bottle with surprise, noting that it was labeled Hydrogen Peroxide. He had to look into the formula of that potion.
"Earlier today. He didn't seem so loath to have to do it twice." He thought for a moment. "Actually, he seemed to like the idea."
"Where is he?"
"Waiting outside in his mongrel form for one of us to go out and call him in."
She finished her work, pulled down his sleeve gently, and glared at him. "And when were you planning on telling me about him?"
"Well, I have the delightful idea of telling you in the morning...." He shut his mouth at her look. If he wasn't careful, he'd have to deal with her claws. Literally.
"Why is he waiting outside in the first place?"
He looked her in the eyes and sighed. "The thing is, Fleur, I'm here on business, and Black is supposed to be helping me. I wanted to see you for a while without him hanging around. 'Sides, he deserves to wait."
Her eyes softened, but not much. "Oh, yes," she said softly to herself. "You my not be as cruel as before, but you are most certainly Severus." She kissed him on the cheek. "Sit down while I go call Black." She gathered up her items and left again.
You may not be as cruel as before, she had said. He frowned. Had he really changed that much after four years?
When she returned, Black trailing after her (human again), Snape had seated himself near the back door. She went about making a pot of tea, stopped, and looked over shoulder from one to the other. "Take of your coats and stay awhile," she said sarcastically. They did so. "So, why are you here?"
Black, who was dressed in a yellow plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers answered her. "You've heard what happened to Voldemort and Harry."
"Yes. Everyone in the wizarding world knows by now. They're dead."
"Yes... and no. One of them is still alive, we're just not sure who."
She whirled in surprise. "WHAT? But... but there were two piles of ashes! Human ashes!"
"No. There was only one. One of them was killed and then incinerated. The other was sent magically to somewhere within this town. We just don't know whom."
The teakettle she held slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, spilling water everywhere. "Voldemort pourrait encore ĂȘtre vivant?!"
@
End of Chapter Three
