Chapter 4
Ma Jolie Petite
"Monsieur and Mademoiselle Burbage, n'est pas?" Natalie DeMontagne asked as she stood up and snuffed out her cigarette.
"Oui," Charity answered, and the sleek shop owner stepped over.
Varying sizes of armoires, bookshelves, and tables surrounded them. Some were carved with antique detailing while others were of distinctly modern shapes. Each was generously lacquered in white and laden with small, colorful glass bottles either arranged on mirrored trays, perched atop ceramic cake stands, or lying in crystal bowls. What could easily have been a disjointed mess was pulled together by a bold splash of wall-to-wall carpeting in a rich, charcoal grey.
The place was rather like a candy store all grown up—elegant, but with a touch of whimsy. As if everything else wasn't enough to tickle Charity's fancy, the backdrop to it all was a raspberry-colored curtain that spanned the entire back wall behind the simple glass counter.
"You like?" Natalie asked.
"It's charming," Charity answered, trying not to gush.
"I don't see any customers," Mr. Burbage prudently noted.
"Eh, Quidditch and football matches," Natalie answered, waving a dismissive hand. "The Muggles love their football as much as the Wizards love their Quidditch. But the lull provides an excellent opportunity for us to talk, n'est pas?"
Mr. Burbage conceded her point with a nod and continued. "We received your financials via owl earlier in the week. Thank you for sending that over. I see you've begun collecting a healthy amount in Wizard currency."
"Oui. Is a new business for me. Imagine that—wizards buying potions from a Squib." Ms. DeMontagne raised a somewhat challenging eyebrow, and her eyes flicked between Charity and Mr. Burbage.
Charity had been too busy admiring the swirling pattern in the curtain to notice the look, and turned to Natalie with a huge grin. "Oh yes, I'm sure you can teach me so much! I've always had an interest in potions and only ever lacked someone with the patience to teach me."
Natalie returned her smile.
Mr. Burbage cleared his throat. "Ms. DeMontagne, I'm sure Mr. Henderson explained my daughter's desire for, erm, discretion."
Charity's hand instinctively went to her stomach, and the reflex was not missed by Ma Jolie's proprietor—one corner of her painted lip curled up as she fitted in that piece of the puzzle.
"He told me," Natalie answered. "And I assure you, discretion is my middle name." She reached out to fold her fingers around Charity's left hand, gently lifting it and gliding her thumb pointedly over the witch's empty ring finger. "I see why it is you chose to get out of stodgy old England."
Before Charity's blush had time to fully form, Natalie grasped her hand more firmly and turned to lead her farther into the shop. "Come. I show you all the places your bébé will love to play."
"I can bring the baby to work with me?" Charity asked. She couldn't believe she hadn't had to broach the subject herself.
Natalie twisted her mouth into a smirk and gave Charity a sideways glance. "Would you accept the position under any other circumstances?"
"No," Charity admitted.
"Then your bébé will be as welcome as you. This," Natalie said, stopping in front of a particularly large amoire, "is the entrance to the Magicals-Only section."
"There's a whole separate section?" Charity asked.
"Oui. Certain of my mixtures don't meet ministry requirements for distribution to Muggles, and so I keep them in a special place."
The shop owner's eyes flashed mischievously as she pulled open the doors to the armoire.
On a shelf sat a tray of three large glass bottles. From the throat of each hung a heavy, silver tag. Charity read the tags:
In 10% of users, contact with bottle causes outbreak of warts.
A side effect of this serum is extreme flatulence.
Prolonged use may lead to premature aging of the skin.
"Muggles won't touch the stuff," Natalie explained as she spun each bottle around exactly once. Then she pushed the tray aside and stepped into the armoire…and out the back side. She looked back in the general direction of Charity and Mr. Burbage, but it felt to Charity as if DeMontagne was looking through her rather than at her. She motioned with her hand for them to join her.
Charity and Mr. Burbage looked at each other and shrugged. Then the young mother-to-be, followed closely by her father, stepped into the armoire and passed through the shelves as if they weren't even there. Natalie didn't say a word as the pair emerged, but merely watched them expectantly.
Charity's heart sank. She should've known the situation truly was too good to be true. This woman was obviously unstable—someone had passed off a trick-armoire on her, and she'd convinced herself that it led to another room, when in reality, she was merely standing right where she'd begun.
Mr. Burbage let out a low whistle as he looked around, and Charity was grateful to see that he was playing along with the Squib's delusions rather than embarrassing her. Even still, she felt deeply disappointed.
"Pardon my asking, Ms. DeMontagne, but how on Earth did you do this?" Mr. Burbage asked.
Charity gave him a warning glance—there was no need to tease the poor woman.
"I may not have magical abilities, Monsieur, but that doesn't mean I've not been given the ability to get magic done." Natalie winked at Charity's father and then gestured to the armoire. "Wizard number one configured that, and wizard number two—who stuck around considerably longer—helped me with this." Her manicured hands spread out to indicate the rest of the shop, and for the first time since stepping through the magicked piece of furniture, Charity took a good look around.
The shop was set up exactly as before, but the small bottles that littered the place were noticeably different. Some glowed, some billowed puffs of smoke, and others vibrated as if whatever was in them wanted desperately to get out. Charity didn't know how she hadn't noticed any of this before.
She spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. "This is amazing! Absolutely, positively amazing!"
"Ah, but I have not yet told you of what wizard number three did for me. We are in second dimension, oui? However, wizard number three gave me a window from first dimension into second—from there I can see and hear what is going on here and watch for any funny business."
"Yes, we saw you from back there," Charity confirmed. "But we didn't see the magical potions. Nothing was steaming or shaking."
"Ah yes," Natalie answered. "Through the window you may only see people, not objects."
"Can Muggles see the browsing wizards and witches too?"
"Oh yes. Is very important that they do. Wizard number three and I broke it off before he completed work on the window from second to first dimension. We cannot see back to the Muggle shop. I can generally hear the bell above the door ringing and other prominent noises through the opening of the armoire, but that is it. Since wizards and witches cannot see out of this dimension, it is a necessity that the Muggles can see in to avoid collisions. Now, we finish our conversation on the other side. Customers should be arriving at any moment."
The trio re-emerged from the armoire to find the shop still vacant, so Mr. Burbage and Charity took the opportunity to pummel Natalie with more questions about the alternate dimension. The conversation eventually moved on to the more mundane aspects of the business, and before the first customers of the day began to trickle in, Charity Burbage and Natalie DeMontagne kissed on both cheeks and became partners.
. . . . .
Charity's next order of business was to find an available apartment. She settled on one that was conveniently located walking distance from both Ma Jolie Petite and the Luxembourg Gardens. The rent was a bit higher than Charity had been hoping for, but her father insisted on covering the extra expense to upgrade to a two bedroom, saying the indulgence would make things more comfortable for Mrs. Burbage during her visits.
France and England had no free-flue agreement, so the move was done Muggle style, using professional movers since Charity couldn't ask any friends for help—as far as anyone other than her parents, Professor McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey knew, Charity was taking the year off to travel. For good measure, Charity adopted an alias surname to make it more difficult for anyone to identify her as the witch the now-world- famous Severus Snape had hidden away. She would be known in Paris as Charity Prince; if her child couldn't bear the true name of his father, then at least she would provide a close proximity.
Natalie allowed Charity a couple of weeks to settle into her new place before starting work. After arranging the furniture and unpacking the boxes, Charity painted the second bedroom—what would be the nursery—a lemon yellow. The cheery color was the first thing her baby would see in the morning, and the last thing it would see at night. She was going to make sure Snape's child knew every bit of the happiness it's father had been missing in his own childhood.
. . . . .
Natalie's plan was to ease Charity into the business. In the months before the baby was born, she merely wanted her to work the floor, helping customers and ringing up sales. Charity started out making a few simple potions—nourishing lotions, soothing talcum powders and the like—with a promise that she'd learn more complex solutions in the future.
"I feel so useless," Charity protested one day from behind the register. A customer had just departed, leaving her and Natalie alone. "You brought me in to free up some of your time, but I've been working for two months, and you're still here all day, every day. I'm no help at all."
"Nonsense," Natalie called out from the back room behind the curtain. "How is it you think I made these potions and completed my paperwork with customers in and out all day? I couldn't do it until after I closed up the shop, and I was here till all hours. Now I get to leave with you and go home…or elsewhere. I have only you to thank for that."
Charity plopped herself onto a stool behind the counter, slid off her shoe, and began massaging her swollen foot. It had been an exceptionally busy day and she was more than ready for the typical lull of the late afternoon. Natalie tossed her a tube of her exclusive anti-inflammatory blend, which Charity gratefully accepted. There was no hiding her condition anymore. Even if she hadn't switched from robes to Muggle garments, her ever increasing belly would have been noticeable.
"Besides, you'll be leaving me soon enough for your maternity leave, so what is the sense for me to become dependent on you now, eh?"
Charity sighed. "I know." She was frustrated by having her life persistently in limbo. She wanted to get on with it already. The longer she waited to move forward, the more she felt like she was slipping back.
Although she'd hated to leave Hogwarts, she hoped that removing herself from the scenes of so many memories with Snape might ease the pain of missing him. But ever since arriving in Paris, the ache had only increased. She realized that walking those halls she'd once walked with him had, in fact, been a salve for her nerves, not an irritant. With nothing of Snape around her, she felt as if she'd abandoned him, as if somehow Snape's presence was in stone and mortar of the castle she'd left behind.
The precise memory of his face, his voice, his breath against her cheek didn't flash into her mind so readily in this foreign environment, and the absence of his regular, spontaneous visits to her mind left her feeling empty. She didn't want to forget the slightest aspect of him. Ever. That was why she treasured her dreams so very much. While sleeping, her unfettered subconscious let him in freely and recalled him in lifelike detail. These dreams were worth each and every tear they provoked in the waking hours that followed.
Away from the many prying eyes at Hogwarts, Charity was free to leave his framed picture out on her bedroom dresser, and she spent more time than ever staring into it. She refused to let his memory fade.
The bell on the front door tinkled, and a tall, cloaked figure stepped into the shop. A heavy hood hid any features from view, but the walk was distinctly masculine.
"Ah." Natalie stepped out from the back room. "I forgot he was coming today. You see—you are useful right now. Keep an eye on the shop while I make a quick trip to the magical section." In a louder voice she called out. "Bonjour, Monseiur. Je serai de retour dans un instant avec votre pommade."
Charity watched Natalie enter the other dimension and head straight to a cabinet across the room. The man waited for the shop owner to cross his path before proceeding, revealing his familiarity with the inner workings of the shop. Charity couldn't see his eyes, but she sensed his gaze on her and felt and odd prickling at the back of her neck.
The opening of the hood turned away from her as the man silently browsed the shop. Charity scolded herself for being so inconsiderate. Just because he dressed like a Dementor didn't mean she had to treat him like one.
"So, looks like the colder temperatures are here to stay," she offered conversationally.
The hood opening snapped toward her again. A rash of goosebumps broke out across her arms, but she kept a false smile plastered on her face. The figure slowly started moving forward, bending at the neck as if trying to peer more closely at Charity. Before Charity reached full panic, Natalie stepped out of the Armoire.
"Here you are Monseiur Savu. I should like to introduce you to my new assistant Charity Prince." The man's shoulders visibly stiffened. "Do not worry. Ms. Prince understands the value of discretion as well as any of us."
Natalie turned to Charity. "Will you ring him up, please—fifteen Galleons. I need to get back to my cauldron." Before disappearing behind the pink curtain, Natalie turned pointedly to the man and said. "I shall welcome you back to my shop in six months for your refill."
The man nodded and then dug a hand into his pocket, wherein Charity heard jingling. He dropped the coins onto the counter, and Charity caught a quick glimpse of horribly scarred fingers. The ointment he was purchasing had been in one of Ma Jolie's decorative bags, so Charity didn't know what it was, but she was willing to bet it healed scar tissue. And the hefty price indicated it was quite potent. Charity felt guilty for being frightened of the man earlier. The poor dear was obviously sensitive about his marred appearance. She wanted to offer comfort, but had no idea what to say.
A rough, gravelly voice startled her out of her ruminations. "You are with child?" he asked.
"I…yes, yes I am."
"When?" he rasped hoarsely. His voice sounded so unnatural, and Charity realized that his throat must have also been damaged in whatever terrible accident had done this to him.
"At Christmastime," she answered with a kind smile. "Perhaps you'll get to meet my baby when you return.
"I hope so."
.
.
Author's Note:
So, just wondering—have any of you picked up on the astounding brilliance of the shop's name yet? Hm? Anyone?
I'd like to say thanks to Metro K for giving me a bi on Thanksgiving week and letting me skip my turn. I daresay he won't be nearly so lenient on me going forward, so let's hope I can keep up with a schedule of updating every 2 – 3 weeks. ;)
Welcome new readers & reviewers – Lady Seiryu, harmonious, and myladypunk. I'm out of my mind excited to have you on board! And harmonious, I promise that I'm not usually so horribly late in responding to reviews – Tell her, everyone!
And now…the pressure's on Sir Metro…
-LiLa