"The French"
"Bonjour! Bienvenue à Normandie, Monsieur Snahp et Monsieur Weaz-ley!" A chipper witch greeted them as they pushed through the swinging doors of a classy hotel in the only completely magical community in Northern France. Charlie and Snape nodded in acknowledgement and she began to lead them down a narrow hall, decorated in a depressing shade of navy blue. If the walls had to be dark, Snape thought, they could have at least made them black.
She shoved a key into a lock and the door to their room swung open. "J'espère que vous vous amusez!"
Charlie handed the woman a fifty franc note, and she looked at it blankly for a minute before realizing it was Muggle money.
"Well," he said in English. "We're working mostly on Muggle sites, so we didn't bother changing for any French Wizarding money."
She didn't look very happy. "Ah, je vois. D'accord, vennez, s'il vous plaît."
Charlie gazed over at Snape, who had just at that moment realized that the boy couldn't speak French. He would have thought that if someone traveled so much, they would at least be able to grasp some simple phrases in a few languages.
"She wants us to come with her." Snape told the Weasley boy, who nodded in understanding and grunted an embarrassed "all right".
"And monsieur," the woman said in English, looking at Charlie. "I do speak a bit of Ee-nglish."
She led them into their hotel room, apparently thinking that they couldn't find their way around. The room was already incredibly tiny, barely managing to squeeze an end table in-between two full beds. Despite the size, Snape couldn't help but breathe a tiny sigh of relief. Sleeping in the same bed with Hermione was one thing, but sharing it with Charlie Weasley would just be a bit much.
"Here," the woman said with her heavy French accent. "iz your bedroom, and your…toilet iz through here…" She pushed open a walnut door into a black marble bathroom, almost as big as the bedroom, with a large Jacuzzi nestled against a huge landscape window. Snape's mouth dropped open and the woman smirked.
"Our salle de bains are ze most popular in Wizarding France," she said, her smirk evolving into a proud smile. "I 'ope that you enjoy yourselves."
She began to leave, but stopped abruptly. "Oh, j'ai oublié. Ici." She held up a doorhanger that said "Ne dérangez pas, s'il vous plaît."
She hung it back on the inside doorknob. "Au revoir!"
Charlie looked at Severus questioningly, no doubt about to ask what it meant.
But Snape cut him off before he could say a word. "Just…don't ask," he sighed. "Or I will hurl myself out of the window to a certain death. It's much better if you just don't ask."
"The squid wants to talk to you," Hermione said quietly, brushing her lips across Severus's jaw line. "He says he's unhappy with the quality of the necklaces he's receiving from the Merpeople."
"All right," he replied, folding and setting the Daily Prophet down on the dark-wooded coffee table. He reclined in the leather armchair and sighed deeply as Hermione's weight transfered from the floor to his lap, her bushy-haired head finding a comfortable spot nestled into his chest. "I love you, Hermione."
With his eyes closed, he felt her small hand enclose over his, her kisses fluttering on his knuckles. "I love you, too. I think the chicken is ready."
"Good, I don't think I could go much longer without chucking it out onto the motorway…"
Of course, the dream made perfect sense while he was asleep. But upon waking, Severus glared bleary eyed at the dark ceiling, silently thinking, 'What the hell?'
He heard Charlie groan from across the room, and in a voice thick with sleep say, "Since when do you love Hermione?"
Snape immediately panicked, his already white skin paling. He sat straight up in bed and looked at the awakening Weasley, his form outlined in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "What?"
Charlie laboriously sat up in bed, stretching his stocky, scar-crossed arms in front of him. "Aren't you a bit old for her?"
"No, I'm…" Snape stopped talking abruptly, catching himself. "Charlie?" He said quietly after a moment of tense silence, his voice catching.
"Yes?"
"This never happened."
"Got it."
"Good." He rushed into the bathroom to treat himself to an emotionally agonizing bath. The warm bathwater, vanilla scented bubble bath, and smooth black marble did nothing to soothe his frazzled nerves, worn paper-thin from a traumatizing dream. He kept running the odd words "I love you, Hermione," repeatedly on his tongue. In the meantime, he heard Madam Pomfrey subconsciously nagging him.
"You're bathing away your sorrows? While I'm stuck with taking care of Hermione? I'm not the pushy type, Professor, but I expect a bit more of you than this."
"You shouldn't be in a Jacuzzi, Severus. You know what hot water does to your little swimmers. What would Hermione think? She has ten children to shoot out, better get down to it soon…"
He sighed and sank deeper into the foam, running his long fingers through his hair. Dreams were random and incomprehensible, they couldn't mean anything. That was proven by the words spoken about the Giant Squid and chucking chicken at passing Muggles in automobiles.
And yet…
The warmth of her mouth was incredibly real, a sense of feeling formerly not experienced in his dreams. The way she said, "I love you" harboured a tone that he had never heard her voice hold. The look in her eyes was certainly not a figment of his imagination.
Neither was the feeling he had had when he returned her affections.
Severus didn't know how this was possible. It was like he had had an encounter with a soul while he was asleep, their two dream worlds connecting in a tangled mass of random thoughts and unspoken feelings. The problem was, the feelings were no longer unspoken. And that was what scared him.
Because there was no protecting his dreams. Though an incredibly capable Occlumens, his mental state of unconsciousness left him completely vulnerable. This was why he slept hardly at all during Voldemort's rein of terror. But that had ended months ago (a surprise that it had happened so soon), and he was getting used to sleeping like a normal person. The extra amounts of rest had actually done wonders with him, making his skin gain a warmer tone, the permanent bags under his eyes disappear, and his hair start to lose its greasy composure and become soft.
Guarding his dreams from Voldemort was difficult, but attainable. Guarding them from Hermione was an impossibility, especially since he was probably overreacting and she wasn't seeing into them in the first place.
"Oy, Professor, will you hurry up in there? I have to use the toilet."
Snape groaned and sunk further into the bubbles, trying to rid himself of the thoughts of his, admittedly, bushy-haired love-interest.
"I really don't want to bother you, but if you don't get out of the loo now, I'll make sure that something horrible and slimy finds its way into your bed tonight."
"As long as it's not Lucius Malfoy after a romp in jelly, I'm sure I won't mind very much," Snape replied loudly, hearing his voice echo slightly in the bathroom. He heard Weasley groan. "Fine," Severus sighed. "I'm going."
Charlie rushed him as he opened the door, taking just enough to say "Bloody…" and slamming the door shut in the Professor's face. He stared at the closed door, bemused.
"Well, how is the quest going, Severus?"
Snape whipped around, stunned and panicked. His eyes fell upon the fireplace on the other side of the small room, where, in the small licks of flame, sat the head of Remus Lupin.
"What are you doing here?" Snape hissed, approaching the fire. He pulled the dressing gown closer around him, tying the black terry belt tighter around his waist.
"I've just come to check up on you," Lupin replied, a little taken aback. His head rocked sickeningly back and forth across the flames. "I was wondering if you might need anything. The breakfast that the House Elves are serving this morning is excellent. Would you like me to Apparate over with a bit?"
Lupin's tone was not mocking, but good-natured and concerned. However, Severus could care less.
"I'm not hungry," he growled in reply. His stomach chose that moment to loudly betray him.
Remus smiled warmly. "You liar. I'll bring some over for Charlie, as well."
"That is not the only thing on your mind," Severus muttered. Lupin just smiled until there was a "pop!" and his head disappeared from the flames.
After a considerably aggravating breakfast with Charlie and Lupin, a (fortunately) uneventful run in with an unattractive French hooker, and Charlie's insistence in purchasing a set of robes in ruby red, they arrived at the Carléon Caves.
It was not at all what Severus had imagined it would look like. Given, there were mountains, and, in turn, caves, but wands were away, ropes were disregarded, and there was not a dragon in site. Instead, a circle of about a dozen Wizards crowded around a campfire, trying to keep warm in the chilly day. Uneasy with the amount of earflap hats present, Snape glanced sideways at Charlie, but was hastily ignored.
They quietly joined the group, Severus hoping to melt into the chilly background and blend in with the gray walls of the caves. These hopes were dashed when Charlie insisted on introducing him. Snape had expected the group of obviously under-educated louts to gawk at his financial security, smugness, and apparent expertise. Instead, the group merely laughed while someone tossed an earflap hat in his direction.
"Come on, Professor!" a short wizard with a missing front tooth and a German accent urged him. "Put it on! It's tradition!"
Charlie was grinning in triumph. "Yes, come on, Professor. It won't hurt."
Defeated, Snape shoved the pink personification of horror over his black hair, earning a reaction of rambunctious laughter. Fortunately, the attention quickly turned away from him and conversation doubled back to something a bit more interesting: dragons.
"We're still trying to figure out what's going on with that Peruvian Vipertooth," one of the men said. "And why he's here in the first place. Honestly a mystery to us."
"It doesn't surprise me," a female voice with an Irish lilt said. Severus hadn't noticed it before, but there was also a young witch present. "Ever since Voldemort was defeated, things have been showing up in odd places everywhere…"
"But we're not talking about a Hungarian Horntail landing in Romania, Helen," Charlie replied shortly, hovering his hands over the fire to warm them. "They're on the same chunk of land. But something from South America suddenly appearing in France…"
"Just let it go, Charlie," one of the wizards said. "There's no point wondering about something that we can't solve."
"Yes, but…"
The conversation that Severus had hoped would be more interesting eventually turned into what could be better known as a snooze-fest. His head was beginning to droop, allowing the sight of the fluffy pompoms on his hat to become visible to the boisterous throng.
Suddenly, a snippet of conversation made his neck jerk upward in attention.
"Hey, Charlie, I heard you were looking for a new girlfriend…"
Charlie's face, already red from the heat of the fire, turned a shade to rival his famed Weasley hair. "What made you think that?"
The witch, Helen, burst out laughing. "Just you following me around whenever I want to go shopping, asking if I'd run into any good-looking French girls and ask them out on a date for you."
Charlie's head drooped visibly, but Snape could see a hint of a sardonic smile playing on his lips.
"Yeah," the German wizard said. "Well, I think I found you a good match. There was a rather...interesting woman that came by yesterday when you weren't here, wanting to make sure that we were following Ministry regulations." He snorted. "I'm not followin' any British snot's Ministry. Yurn only belongs to the German Ministry, thank you very much."
"Yeah, Charlie," Helen said, grinning and beginning where Yurn had left off before his loyalties rant. "I think you would have gotten along very well. She's your type."
"What did she look like?" Severus said, oblivious to the shock that rippled through the small group in reaction to him saying any actual words.
Helen grinned, and with her honest chocolate eyes and curly brown hair, Severus couldn't help but suddenly be reminded of Hermione. Merlin, he missed her. "What, you fancy a snog with the old hag?" She laughed at the revulsion on his face. "A great beast of a woman. Dumpy, toad-face, has a fetish for black velvet hair bows."
Everyone turned to stare at Charlie as he muttered, "Umbridge."
Yurn laughed. "Ah! So you already know her! Good luck, I say…"
"Look!" Helen pointed up at the sky, but not before Snape noticed that a large, wing-shaped shadow was lingering on the ground around the fire.
Everyone's necks craned backwards, looking up into the cloudy sky. A humungous shape circled around them, the large wings beating heavily in the air. It paused for a minute, hovering, then burst upward and disappeared into the clouds.
"The Peruvian Vipertooth," Helen murmured. "I just hope he's heading somewhere safe. I don't feel like throwing Obliviates around today."
After further drilling of the lot for more information, coming up with nothing conclusive, and a lot of protesting from the "hard-working" members of the crew, Severus and Charlie returned to their hotel in resignation.
"Don't know what they're talking about," Charlie muttered as he turned the key in its keyhole. "This is all volunteer work for me, they're the ones getting paid…"
"I just wish they could know what happened to Umbridge," Severus sighed, throwing the hideous pink hat down on the bedroom floor as they entered and grinding it under his heel. "Though I can't blame them for not asking where she was staying. Who would want to keep in contact with that thing?"
But Charlie wasn't listening; he was staring ahead at his bed, mouth open in disbelief. "Remus?"
Indeed, Lupin sat upon Weasley's bed, staring into the fire, and immediately leapt to his feet as he noticed the men's presence.
"Lupin," Snape sneered. "What are you doing here? This morning was bad enough."
Instead of receiving Remus's ineffective, too-gentle-to-sting humour, his frown remained in place and the worry lines across his forehead intensified.
"I tried to reach you earlier this afternoon, but you weren't here…and…" He paused for a moment, searching for what seemed to be sympathy somewhere near the fireplace.
"Come on, Lupin, spit it out," Snape urged, shoving his hands firmly in his pockets and kicking the wrinkled pink hat to the corner of the room in embarrasement.
"Well…" The werewolf swallowed, his Adam's apple quaking visibly. "Hermione's missing."
A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. After I posted the last chapter, a series of losses happened in my life in a very short amount of time and I wasn't ready to write anything humorous. I'm fine now, though.
I know that France no longer uses francs as currency, but in 1999, they still did. 50 francs was the equivalent of approximately (I think) 4 American dollars. I'm not quite sure, but feel free to correct me. France did not start using the euro until 2002.
I speak French, but not perfectly. If anyone can see grammatical errors (English or French) in this document, please let me know.
Okay, enough of that.
Thanks to: JoeBob1379, KDarkMaiden, Electryone (I did fix all of it! I'm rather proud of myself. And really, is Severus really one to take the easy way out? I don't think so), Meriadoc / Celithrathien (thanks for the corrections. I changed everything (I hope), including the changeover to British spelling. Umph, a lot of work), Piggie, DarkShadowFlame (I'm really looking foward to the kiss myself, hehehe), Evanescence (what fun would it be if he just kissed her, and that was it?), Akasha Ravensong, Romm, crissy, aPPle-FrrEAk, KarenDetroit, Raclswt, One-Sexy-Slytherin (you don't like chocolate? I'm sorry, it's my life source), Talio, ~*~* (aka Goddess of Reviews), just reading, Dues Ex, Silver, the soul cage, Aindel S. Druida, soul (yup, that's it...maybe ;)), KES, Anarane Anwamane, and Rylee Smith.
Cyber Cookies go to: One-Sexy-Slytherin, Talio (your odd method was correct), the soul cage, and ~*~* (aka Goddess of Reviews).
