Wow, thanks for all the reviews everyone! Stick with me, here. This chapter's a bit short, sorry, I've gone through three or four times trying to beef it up but…nothing.
So, as always, I own whatever you don't recognize and someone else owns the rest. And as usual I have no beta so any mistakes are mine and I'm sorry.
Terrylove gets my very first super-quick reviewer award for this story. I've noted it before, but again: please realize that this story is not at all related to my others.
Draccy: Silas Zilner will indeed be explained in due time…keep reading and reviewing! Lil, nice to see ya. Hippiechick, glad I won't be updating without a review from you. Hand3, welcome to the new gig. Jayne, always happy to see your reviews. Nenharmen, thank you for that incredibly sweet compliment; I'll try not to disappoint.
Deus-ex-maria: good catch on the polyjuice. For my purposes I assumed it had an unlimited shelf life until you added the essence of whoever you're trying to become. After making that assumption, I then made the next logical jump that Snape would always have some pre-brewed stuff in storage, waiting to be used. I'm an economist masquerading as a writer—assumptions are my life's blood.
My new goal is to pass 100 reviews on this guy. Silly, but hey, gives me something to think about other than all the packing I haven't done.
Welcome back, everyone.
--Aimes
PS—I spontaneously got some ideas for a story that comes after 'Normal' and is in that family of stories…thoughts? I'll ask again later, but I'm just throwing it out now.
Hermione pulled on the black leather pants with a grunt. Looks like you've gained a few pounds, Granger. Really have to lay off the fudge. She walked to the full-length mirror and adjusted the blue, spiky wig she wore. She was in a hotel room in Paris, close to the airport. A stereo player blasted in the corner, but there was no one else on the floor and she knew no one on other floors would complain.
We kiss the stars. We ride. We are. Your main desire. Your flesh. We are…cold we're so cold. We are…so cold we're so cold.
Hermione moved her head to the beat and tapped her foot lightly as she dressed. A dark blue corset top that matched her wig wrapped around her torso and a long black leather duster jacket completed the look. Fix eyeliner…darken lipstick…all the jewelry's on…knives, guns, alrighty. I'm a poster girl for an S&M magazine. Fantastic. She took a moment to pull out a black folder and flip through it.
Upon arriving in Paris, she'd proceeded directly to the Gare de Lyon train station, where she accessed a locker that was kept in one of her many aliases. The usually-empty space had a black duffel bag in it, which Hermione picked up and took with her to her hotel room. Within the bag was a black folder with no label, the folder she was currently skimming, and Hermione had memorized the contents immediately. Not that it stopped her from going over the slim tome one last time. It contained everything there was to know about Silas Zilner, businessman and psychopath extraordinaire. Although I know the important stuff from firsthand experience.
Also resting inside the bag was a thick roll of Euros, a Beretta handgun with a modified clip, and extra ammunition; all were hollow-point bullets. Better to blow a hole in you with. She filled her extra loader and fastened it onto one of her boots, checking that the dagger sheath was secure on her other boot. Hermione yanked on the boots quickly and picked up a set of keys. Before leaving the hotel she picked up the folder, lit it, and tossed it in the sink, careful to wave the smoke away from the detector. Time to earn your paycheck, Granger.
Smoke walked out of the hotel, if it could be called walking. The night watchman stared openly at the sexy woman who prowled down the hall and out the door. She mounted a motorcycle without a helmet and took off. For a moment, he contemplated running after her and asking her to marry him. He shook it off and went back to his newspaper.
Smoke sped toward Rue de la Nuit, psyching herself up for the night's activities. Cosy him up, get him to a hotel or a car, castrate and shoot him, go home. You might even get to take a bath and have a real nights' sleep before going back to Hogwarts.
Remus stared at his soup in a small pub in central Paris. It was squished between a MAC makeup store and a pharmacy, and catered exclusively to a magical clientele. He'd secured a room upstairs the previous afternoon and spent most of his time since then exploring Paris, specifically the area closest to the nightclub. He was searching for any reason that Cayne and Bellemort might be at that club in particular, and his search had come up empty. As far as he could tell, the club was owned by an aboveboard, if somewhat sleazy muggle businessman named Silas Zilner. It bothered him and he was now staring at his soup contemplatively as it rapidly cooled. He knew Silas Zilner in some capacity, but his brain refused to make the connection. He shrugged as he rose abruptly, leaving the half-eaten soup. He'd figure it out after he finished the job.
Lupin apparated outside the club clothed in an innocuous outfit. He wore black leather pants, boots that went up to his knees, and a button down green silk shirt, untucked and partially open over a black t-shirt. He privately believed that he was a bit…odd looking, however he would still be inconspicuous in a club like this, and a long black leather coat helped the look. Overall, he looked rather gothic…probably a good thing at a club like Mage, where normally dressed people were looked upon with suspicion and loathing. The club was in a small alleyway appropriately called the Rue de la Nuit. It was hidden in southern Paris and was crowded tonight.
Mage was fairly large considering its rather hidden location. The first floor was glass with colored lights flashing upwards and a large bar resting in the corner. Velvet couches and armchairs sat slightly raised and removed from the writhing bodies, reserved for elite guests and, of course, the owner. The second floor was glass-bottomed and marginally more subdued, populated mainly by individuals dealing for Ecstasy and Angel Dust. A typical underground club, overall, or as typical as one could be.
Remus walked into the club, took a seat at the bar, and requested a martini. He settled in, observing the group on the platform. Bellemorte and Cayne were sitting with nubile young French women in nearly nonexistent clothes, drinking copious amounts of Hennessey. They were drunk and overconfident and Remus immediately discounted them as a threat. A third man sat on an armchair adjacent to the couch on which they resided. Remus realized that he would be the most troublesome of the group. He had women on his arm but they did not distract him and he was clearly not drunk. He suspected that this was the infamous Silas Zilner.
A woman entered, and her appearance did not go unnoticed. She was alluring and she entered the room with supreme confidence and bearing. Lupin smiled.
"Now the fun begins," he muttered cryptically to himself. The bartender glanced at him but took no mind. There was no shortage of crazies in Paris, and they all came to Mage. The woman seemed to approach Lupin, cutting through the crowd rapidly. When she reached the bar, she ordered a cranberry and vodka.
"Nice to see you again, MS," she said in a low sultry voice, turning and leaning against the bar next to him. "Who're you here to play with?"
Remus said nothing but shrugged infinitesimally. This is the third mission in as many months that he's shown up to. Looks like the criminal underworlds are beginning to intersect. Must be more careful. He might be able to ID me.
"Mmmm…nothing I like more than a mysterious stranger in a bar. Enjoy the show, honey." Her voice rolled in a melodious southern US accent.
She shot the rest of her drink and moved to the dance floor.
Homeboy I came to party. Your girl was lookin' at me. She's a haggler, no, I'm not taggin' her but you don't want dem boys to come over and start askin' ya: whatcha wanna do? Shhh…Nothin'. Whatcha tryina do? Nothin'
The woman began to dance to the music and her eyes locked on the man in the armchair. He motioned to her after a moment with an amused expression and she smiled as she went to him. And the fun begins. Come to me, you little son of a bitch. Smoke pulled him up and began to dance with him, never breaking eye contact. He snaked his hands around her waist, settling them on her ass. He squeezed and she grinned, grinding against him.
Unfortunately her exchange with Remus had not gone unnoticed. Bellemorte was fighting the haze of alcohol to figure out why the man at the bar looked so familiar. Suddenly he stood up and pulled out his wand.
Out of the corner of her eye, Smoke saw the wand and decided to screw her plan. I'll never make it back to his bedroom to kill him quietly if this fiasco becomes violent. She slid a knife into his gut with precision skill and he dropped to the floor, dead, body sliding out of the way of the curse fired towards Lupin. Hermione assessed the impending situation with irritation. Bloody job. Could things go according to plan just once? Well, as Sensei Lissa always said: if it were easy they'd call it tae kwon do. Funny, that usually preceded a very painful practice session. She caught a roundhouse kick squarely in the head and faltered. And it looks like that will not be changing in the immediate future. She turned and shot her assailant without preamble.
Remus, to his credit, had lightning reflexes. He was already off the barstool with his wand out and firing curses by the time the first curse hit the bar. There was a moment of silence then panic broke loose as patrons scrambled frantically to get out. Lupin looked over to see Smoke pulling her gun out and systematically cutting down the league of heavyweights that had entered from the back room. Zilner's enforcement team. She was dodging curses skillfully but more or less ignoring the wizards. You can't do magic right now, Granger. Step back and do your job. He can handle himself.
Within twenty minutes, nearly all of the muggle criminals were on the ground dead or dying and only some stragglers, the four wizards, and Smoke remained. Smoke rose after being thrown to the ground and saw one of the wizards trying to escape. Lupin was engaged with Bellemorte. Smoke moved to intercept Cayne. He saw her at the last minute and threw one of her own knives. A moment to slow on the dodge, it lodged itself in her side.
"It's been a pleasure, Ms. Smoke. I'll give your sister your regards." He vanished. My sister? What about my sister? Genes!
She struggled to her feet and pulled the knife out, staunching the blood flow. She observed the battle between Remus and Bellemorte for a moment more before pulling out her gun and shooting Bellemorte in the head.
Remus was struggling to his feet as Smoke ejected her now empty clip and reloaded.
"Sorry about the fiasco, dear sir. However I must insist, Cayne is mine." She looked intensely at Remus. "I'll take care of it."
She turned and departed, stepping over bodies as she went.
Lupin stared after her.
"There's something familiar about her," he mumbled to himself.
He departed before the authorities arrived, disapparating from the street and apparating in Hogsmeade. As Lupin began to trudge back to Hogwarts, he sighed. He had known this would be a long night.
A/N: The first song's Cold by StaticX and I pulled it off the Queen of the Damned Soundtrack. The second song's Nothin by NORE and I just had it on a random c.d.