Author's Note —
10/6/06
So I've done it again—I've revised. I've gone back through all the chapters and fixed some errors or little things that were bugging me. Tweaked a conversation here, elaborated a tad more there…nothing very major, and if you could actually spot the changes, I'd be very happy because that would mean you paid attention the first time 'round.
Oh wait, I did change some stuff—namely chapters 9 and 10. Changed them a lot. I overhauled that part for many reasons—the main one being that I didn't like the direction it was going. And since I hit a wall and hadn't been able to write for the past year (really, very sorry about that) I went back and revised to try and work my way out of the corner. I hope you'll like the changes.
Please forgive my interpretation of Hagrid's accent. If you find error with it, well, I'm the author of this fic and I have artistic license, so there. :P
Disclaimer — No, I don't own it or them. Any of them. Though if I had the choice; it'd be a highly difficult toss-up between Jareth and Snape.
Chapter Seven—Conversations Over Coffee
"Not that I mind," Sarah started as she switched seats and began to set out her supplies, "but why would Professor Snape pair us up?"
"He hates giving students extra help. Since I believe the two of us are the best in this class, pairing us with anyone else would give that other student an advantage," explained Hermione as she pulled out her notes.
"This is Advanced Potions!" exclaimed Sarah, though quietly. Professor Snape was currently on the other side of the classroom and the two girls were whispering. "How much help does he think we could be? Everyone in this class is certainly smart enough; I mean, I know I had to take placement tests before I came."
Hermione shrugged as she put the ingredients for the day's potion on the cutting board before her. "He's particular about things like that. It does make a certain amount of sense, from an instructor's point of view," she admitted before the conversation came to a halt as the professor came upon them in a swish of black robes. He hovered over them and Sarah felt her shoulders tensing as his shadow swallowed her own.
"As it is most certainly impossible for you to be finished with the potion, Miss Granger, I suggest you cease your idle chatter and return to work." His voice was that striking mixture of allure and repugnance that Sarah found so compelling. If he would dispel the contempt that layered his every word, his powers of speech would surely earn him the attention his looks could not. When she realized where her thoughts were drifting, she indulged in a brief mental giggle then scolded herself and promised never to think that way again. The professor's scowl was ferocious as he towered over the two girls, "Five points for wasting Miss Williams' time." Spots of color rose on Hermione's cheeks, but the girl pressed her lips together and bowed over her work. The paring knife the girl wielded was slicing the sprigs of mint a little more vehemently than necessary and once Snape had moved away, Sarah reached out to save her friend from destroying their supplies.
An hour and twenty minutes later, the potion safely stored and their workstation cleaned, Hermione quietly vented as they climbed out of the dungeons. "You would think that after six years, I'd be used to this treatment. But, oh! He makes me so angry. If he wasn't brilliant, I think I'd hate him."
"Hermione," Sarah began as she and the other girl entered a hallway and turned to the right, "how can you not hate him? The man goes out of his way to give you a difficult time. It's childish and petty."
"His personal qualities could be improved—he is not a nice man," Hermione agreed. "But, I do admire him. He has done…many great things." She frowned at something, a memory perhaps, before shaking her head and leaving Sarah to wonder just what Professor Snape had done to earn the respect of someone he so apparently loathed.
In her Current Magical Events class, they discussed the implications of another goblin walk-out. While in recent years goblins had mostly stopped rebelling and rioting in the streets, the threat of them closing Gringotts again was a frightening idea. No one wanted another Great Depression.
When it was brought up in class about the idea of wizards starting their own banks, Professor Llewellyn nodded but explained how it had been considered before but no wizard or group of wizards had enough funds to start their own lending company and no one really trusted in their government as much as they trusted the goblins not to cheat them and to keep their money safe.
The goblins had declared once-upon-a-time that if one wizard-owned bank was created, then Gringotts would close. All the Gringotts in the world would shut down and the goblins would leave with their gold and not return.
It was an ultimatum no one wanted to press.
On the way down to her Care of Magical Creatures lesson, Sarah ran into Hermione and the boys and the four of them walked to class together.
When they were situated in a semi-circle around the creature of the day, Sarah found herself next to Neville, a shy boy who turned red when she smiled at him. The other Gryffindor boys had been wary of her presence but were polite enough when Harry introduced her. The Gryffindor girls were another case. Hermione had explained in a somewhat exasperated voice that Lavender and Parvati were silly and Sarah found herself inclined to agree and therefore ignored the two when they started whispering and glancing in her direction.
When her attention began to wander during Professor Hagrid's lecture she looked to the Slytherin side of the circle. Draco was glaring at her with contempt written all over his face and Pansy, her charming roommate, looked little better. Their backup of Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Millicent looked hulking and angry. Blaise, clearly on the Slytherin side but slightly separated from them, noticed Sarah watching him and gazed at her with disapproving eyes.
The other Slytherins she could deal with, but such disdain coming from Blaise, whom she thought to be a decent guy, hurt.
"Williams!" called Professor Hagrid as she turned to leave with the rest of the students. "Wait a minute; I'd like a word with yeh." Sarah nodded to the others to continue on without her, but Hermione said she would wait behind.
"I've a letter here for yeh," said the professor patting his many vest pockets before finding the right one and pulling out a crinkled envelope. It looked tiny within his large hand. "This was given ter me last night by a couple o' goblins I met down in Hogsmeade."
She stared at the letter he passed to her. "For me, Professor?" she asked, confused. "They had a letter addressed for me?" And it was—Sarah Williams—written by an unfamiliar hand on the front of the envelope.
"Do yeh have business with goblins often?" he continued, oblivious to her bewilderment. "'Cause if yeh do, yeh might think about doin' it the normal way, with an owl." He smiled down at Sarah through a big, bushy beard and perhaps misinterpreting her expression, hastened to reassure her. "Now, I'm not mad at yeh. In fact, seein' as how yeh have good taste in company here," a quick nod to Hermione behind her, "I'd like it if yeh call me Hagrid, all my friends do." With those cheerful words the giant man walked off leaving Sarah in a stunned silence to stare at her letter.
With a quick swipe of her finger, the seal on the envelope was opened and Sarah was amazed at what she found inside. Another envelope—this one addressed to the Goblin King.
"What?" Sarah questioned out loud staring at the name in incomprehension. Why on earth would goblins address a letter to her only to have another one inside addressed to Jareth? Couldn't they give it to him themselves? How would they know to give it to her?
"Is anything wrong, Sarah?" asked Hermione as Sarah turned to face her.
"No. No, nothing's wrong. I'm just…" Sarah paused and shook her head, slapping the envelope against her open palm, a bemused smile on her face. "I'm amazed at the irony of the situation."
"The irony?" repeated Hermione. "Oh. I thought from your expression, maybe something was…wrong?"
"No," said Sarah as she held the letter above her head and waved it around. "Nothing's wrong. Just odd." She looked for Jareth, but she didn't see the figure of an owl anywhere and no golden eyes peeked at her from among the leaves. Sarah frowned but put the envelope in her bag. She'd give it to him later.
Hermione didn't ask any more questions and the two girls made their way back up the hill to the castle.
In art class, she painted her first moving portrait. There was something just the tiniest bit off with the spell she used to enliven her picture: the animation turned out fine, but the subject of her panting melted into a colorful blob that slubbed aimlessly back and forth across the canvas. It was disturbing and hilarious at the same time.
She knew immediately that she was in a dream. However, this one was not like any of the previous ones.
She was sitting in an outdoor café in what was obviously a wizard community. Judging by the accents, she guessed they were somewhere in France. The street they sat on was lined with cobblestones and storefronts with large glass windows and many shoppers. Glancing down, Sarah realized that her clothing had changed as well; instead of the school uniform she had worn before, or even the pajamas she had fallen asleep in, she was wearing a set of deep violet robes and something that felt uncomfortably like a bustier. There was a brownie dessert surrounded by vanilla ice cream directly before her and Jareth in the seat across the table.
He was lounging in his chair, long legs stretched out, looking completely at ease in dark brown leather boots and pants two shades lighter, a crème shirt with lace at neck and wrist and a forest green jacket over it. She hadn't realized until then how close his clothing came to being wizard wear.
He was sipping on a cup of coffee, one gloved hand tapping out rhythms on the table top.
"I thought these were supposed to be my dreams?" she said by way of greeting. "But this is a town with people, and food," a quick glance down at the confection on the table, "and don't you even dare try to say I made this all up. You took over my dream." She knew she was scowling at him but felt that a little petulance was acceptable.
"Quite right," he agreed, sounding not at all contrite. "This is La Ville Cachée, and we are here because this café has the best coffee I've ever found."
"We're in France because you wanted coffee?" she asked, her voice as dry as she could make it.
"Yes."
He was watching her over the rim of his cup, his body facing out toward the avenue where people were shopping and hurrying home in the twilight. She silently marveled how anyone could look as comfortable in his own skin as he always seemed to be.
He raised an eyebrow at her and she realized she was staring. Sarah looked away first.
The brownie in front of her smelled delicious and warm though the ice cream sitting next to it had yet to melt. Magic. There was a fork and napkin placed next to her plate.
"The food does not get eaten without a certain amount of participation on your behalf," came the sardonic voice from across the table. When she remained quiet and touched nothing, he sighed. "So distrustful. I give you my word, Sarah, that I had nothing to do with the creation of that dish except in the requesting of it by way of a young man named Jean-Pierre who came to take my order. He's inside if you'd like to question him."
She glanced away from Jareth who had put down his coffee cup and was frowning at her. "I'm just being cautious," was her reply.
"Even in your dreams?"
She lowered her eyes and looked back down at the food. "Most especially then." She folded the linen napkin in her lap and picked up her fork. She took a bite and it was delicious. "It's good. This is one of my favorite desserts," she said in apology.
"Yes, I know."
She ate quietly for a few minutes, savoring the warmth of the brownie and the pleasant coolness of the ice cream mixed together. Jean-Pierre, indeed he did exist, came out to check on Monsieur and Mademoiselle and Jareth ordered another cup of coffee and no, nothing more for Sarah, merci.
Smokeless torches lined the pathways and casting a pleasant glow in the darkness, creating an atmosphere in which Sarah happily relaxed. It was quite peaceful out, couples strolling down the lane arm in arm, small children draped over a parent's shoulder, and the stillness of night surrounding them.
"Oh," she exclaimed after several moments of companionable silence, "I almost forgot. I was given a letter for you by some goblins one of my professors met in Hogsmeade yesterday." She pursed her lips to refrain from smiling. "You're the owl; aren't you the one who's supposed to deliver me my mail?"
She did smile when he glared at her.
"Why couldn't the goblins deliver it directly to you?" she asked. "And I thought you didn't have anything to do with these goblins because Professor Dumbledore said the Wizarding world doesn't know about you."
"I am the Goblin King, Sarah. While I do not rule them, the Aboveground goblins know me and from time to time request my assistance. They do not tell of my existence and I do not trouble theirs. I suspect," he said with a small frown that thinned his lips, "that this correspondence concerns their troubles with the ministry." He held out his hand to her, imperiously gloved as always.
"I'm asleep!" she exclaimed. "You can have it in the morning."
"Sarah, for all accounts and purposes, thisis your dream. You can do whatever you want in it," his hand circled the air as if to demonstrate a point, "including, but not limited to, handing me a letter. Give it here."
"I don't like your attitude," she said.
"You're trying my patience," he replied.
She sent him her best withering glare but took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She imagined her school bag next to her feet, her books and quills and ink pots stowed inside along with one little letter.
Sarah felt a weight settle just to the left of her foot and she knew it had worked. Reaching into her bag she pulled out the yellow envelope and handed it to Jareth. He flicked it out of existence with a negligent wave of his hand.
"All that fuss for something not that important?" she groused.
He shrugged and settled back into his chair, one hand winding back around the warmth of his cup. Somehow, Sarah had never pictured the Goblin King's drink of choice to be coffee.
"It should not happen again, but on the chance it does, I would appreciate if you would watch for more dispatches."
"Sure," she said, surprised at the request. "It's not that big of a deal."
He nodded his thanks.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something. Where are Ludo and Hoggle? I talked to Didymus and he said you had them doing stuff for you. It's been three months and they're not home yet."
He tilted his head back to gaze at the stars that had become visible with the arrival of night. "Not all things can or should be created by magic, Sarah." He paused after the cryptic statement, seeming to consider his words. "Your friends are fine; I currently have need of their specific skills."
"Oh. May I ask what you have them doing?"
"You may not."
"Then will you tell me when they'll be done?" she snapped. "Didymus and I miss our friends."
His head came up and he stared at her. "The fox-knight was sent to join the others once you arrived at Hogwarts. The portal which allows your communication with your companions is located at your home. You cannot call them here."
"Oh." The tiny word came out sounding dejected even to her ears.
"The point of being in a new place, Sarah, is to meet new people," he admonished in an almost not-harsh tone of voice.
"I don't really like my Housemates," she admitted, finding a lock of hair and messing with it. "And the rest of the students don't seem to like me because I'm in Slytherin."
He turned his head and slid her a glance out the corner of his eye. "What about those Gryffindors I see you with?"
"We're friendly," she acknowledged, "but I don't think we're friends." She shrugged and gave a small smile. "It's still the first week, though. It's just been a long time since I was the 'new kid' in school, I guess. Let's change the subject, please?"
"If you wish."
They spent the remainder of the night in pleasant, inconsequential conversation.