Remus Lupin was having a very good day.
He surveyed the disco with a gleam in his eye.
The dance floor was a lively mass of sinuously writhing bodies, and
there was a line at the bar three Wizards deep.
He'd already seen that nearly every table in the adjacent dining room
was occupied. To top it off, Rico had
just assured him that the casino was also full of people having fun and
spending lots of money. It was the week
before Christmas, and all of the guests seemed cheerful and full of high
spirits.
Stepping
out of the dance club into the foyer, he carefully closed the door behind
him. The club was loud, although
silencing spells kept most of the noise from invading the surrounding rooms, so
the rest of the hotel stayed relatively peaceful. But opening the door always let a little
sound spill out, and he didn't want to disturb the other guests too much.
Business had always been good, but of late it was positively booming. The post-War years were proving to be
cash-rich and time-poor for most Wizards, but in typical British fashion they
always seemed able to make time for vacations.
Most wizards and witches wanted to go to places where they could eat,
drink, dance and socialise without mingling with Muggles. The Ministries of Magic of many European
countries had instituted strict new laws since the defeat of Voldemort, when the remaining Death Eaters had gone into
hiding. International Wizarding travel
had become heavily regulated, due to the remote but always-present threat of
Death Eater resurgence. The resultant inconveniences
caused by government interference in what were previously simple activities had
been quite profitable for Remus.
He stood and looked around the festively decorated foyer, still a little in awe
of what he and Harry had accomplished in three short years. The Phoenix Hotel was an oasis for
world-weary Wizards. It was a castle,
stately and grand in the way that English castles were meant to be, located in
the countryside several miles outside of London.
Harry had bought the land for Remus after the
War, when they couldn't bring themselves to go back to 12 Grimmauld
Place and neither had anywhere else to go.
The walls of the lobby were painted in warm oranges and rich burgundies,
reminiscent of the colours of Gryffindor House.
Guests sat on plush couches around the great crackling fireplace, sipping
tea, admiring the brightly decorated Christmas trees, or simply chatting with
each other. The Phoenix was a place that felt warm,
comfortable and safe, and that was a feeling of which no one could get enough.
It seemed like hardly anyone had made it through the war unscathed, emotionally
or otherwise. Remus
had conceived of and built The Phoenix - with Harry's financial backing - to
give people a chance to get away from the unique pressures of post-War reconstruction,
and the memories that some of them would have to endure forever. Dreamless Sleep potions were kept stocked in
the apothecary, because he knew he wasn't the only one who still had nightmares
full of blood and fire and flashing green light.
Some wanted to gamble, but only on games that were playful and harmless. It wasn't very long since just getting
through every day alive had been a game of chance. There were Muggle
card games, adapted for Wizards: Poker and Blackjack, as well as other games
like Roulette and Craps. Dragon racing
was transmitted live, every day, from Romania.
Betting on professional Quidditch took place
only in the back room, only for a very select clientele, and if questioned Remus knew nothing about it.
He noticed a young couple at Reception holding hands and nuzzling
affectionately. Newlyweds, Remus thought, and from Scotland, judging by the colour of the Wizard
Transit Authority permit tags on their luggage. He raised a questioning
eyebrow at the desk clerk and got a subtle nod in return – all their papers
were in order. He sighed. Wars came and went; governments rose and
fell, but life went on as it always had.
Only now, it was with significantly less freedom than before the fear of
Voldemort and his Death Eaters had brought out the
worst in everyone.
Remus
felt his stomach growl, and moved toward the dining room. The lateness of the hour meant that the
number of diners would be thinning out.
That was when Remus liked to take his own
evening meal. He preferred to sit at the
bar, listening to the piano player and contemplating his plans for the next day
… except when there was an attractive, silver-haired young woman sitting alone
at the bar. Such an occasion warranted
an immediate change of plans.
"A beautiful woman alone at a bar is a crime against humanity," he said, coming
up next to her. "May I join you?"
"Certainly, monsieur."
She indicated that he should take the empty stool next to her.
The barman looked over, and a glass of ice appeared in front of Remus. "The usual,"
he said. The barman waved a hand, and Remus's glass magically filled with fifty-year old
scotch. He glanced at the empty
wineglass in the woman's hand. "And a refill for the lady, on the house."
She raised her magically refilled glass to him with a smile. "Mmm. Style, sophistication, and service. You're my kind of man, Monsieur Lupin."
He blinked. "I'm afraid you have me at a
disadvantage, Mademoiselle…?"
"My apologies!"
She extended her hand. "I'm Fleur
DeLacour. I know
your partner, Harry Potter. We were in
the TriWizard Tournament together during his fourth
year at Hogwarts."
"Oh, yes! You were the champion from Beauxbatons," Remus said, taking
her hand and bowing slightly. "It's
nice to finally meet you. Please, call
me Remus."
"I'm pleased to meet you too, Remus. I've heard so much about you. You're quite famous, you know. Tell me, what's it like to be a dashing war
hero?"
Remus laughed.
"Not as exciting as you might think.
There's a surprising lack of profit to be made in the war hero
trade. It's very dull, really. That's why I run this place in my spare
time."
"It's lovely here. Harry lives here as
well?"
Remus nodded.
"We own The Phoenix together.
He's more of a silent partner, though; I handle the day to day business
operations myself."
"Dear, sweet Harry. It's been so long
since I've seen him –I'd like to say hello, if you know where he is."
"I'm sure he's around somewhere. This is
the time of night that he's usually downstairs, having a spot of tea, or
playing chess." People who specifically
asked after Harry usually meant trouble of some kind.
To Remus' experienced eye, her smile was
predatory. "I must ask him to have a
drink with me."
"He doesn't drink with the customers," Remus answered
as he raised his glass to her in a mock salute.
"That's mostly my job."
"How odd," she said, slowly spinning round in her chair to face the main
room. "He always seemed so friendly and
approachable at Hogwarts."
"Oh, he is. It's just … " Remus looked down at what was
left of his drink, swirling the ice around in the glass. "People come here to escape from things, you
see. Stress, anxiety,
scars left by the war … lots of people have them now. Everyone recognises Harry – he's the most
famous Wizard in the world, after all, and people always want to sit and talk
with him. And if you sit and drink with
someone long enough, eventually they start telling you their troubles. Harry's had more than his fair share of
those. He doesn't really need to hear
about anyone else's." His kept his voice
casual, but added just a hint of warning to the tone. Remus was very
protective of his friend and highly suspicious of this woman.
Fleur nodded but didn't answer, quietly scanning the room. Remus easily noticed
the little grin of triumph she gave when she spotted Harry's unruly dark head,
bent low over a chessboard, at a side table near the musicians. The seat across from him was empty, and the
band was going on a break.
She stood and gathered up her cloak.
"Perhaps the company of a beautiful woman, as you say, will give him
something else to think about for a while.
I don't have any pain to share."
She winked, but Remus wasn't fooled. Beautiful or not, there was something about
this woman he didn't like. He wanted to
tell her so, to warn her away from Harry.
But he'd found in the past that Harry didn't take kindly to being
protected behind his back. He'd have to
be more subtle about it, or find a way to talk to Harry privately later. He felt the absence of Sirius with a pang; he
had the directness that Remus lacked, and had always been
able to handle Harry better.
"Good luck," was all he said. "I'll be
in the casino. Come and find me later if
you want, we'll play some Blackjack – maybe between the two of us, someone will
get lucky tonight."
Fleur smoothed a hand over her hair and her robes, dropped a handful of coins
on the bar, and headed for the empty chair.