Chapter 6

An Unexpected Visitor

Springtime in Paris was magical. Even without the potions. It seemed surreal to Charity that it was only a year earlier that she'd gone there to escape the monotony of London while she waited for the end of Voldemort's war. The robust gardens and the flowing fountains and the crisp, blue sky once again called to her, and she took little Deanna on many mini-field trips in the city.

Tulips and daffodils and hyacinths abounded throughout Paris, and Charity had never been happier to live close to the majestic Jardin du Luxembourg. She went for long walks, pushing Deanna in her pram and looking longingly at the outdoor cafés as she passed them. But she'd already learned that "sitting leisurely" and "baby in tow" did not go together. Deanna was much more content when they were on the move.

One day they ventured onto the Metro and took it north where they climb the hill to Sacre Couer. Deanna seemed hyper aware of everything as her mother pointed out the various artists and street performers in the Montmartre neighborhood. Even as young as a couple weeks old, Deanna had demonstrated a serious demeanor, with her tiny features often pulled together in a concerned expression. Charity continued her mother's practice of regularly kissing the baby's furrowed brow and telling her not to worry, but the expression persisted. So she was delighted when her daughter's eyes opened a little wider and the customary crease between her eyebrows disappeared as she took in the sights and sounds of the former haunt of Muggle artists such as Salvador Dali, Picasso, and Toulouse-Lautrec.

They walked by the bookstore that housed the entrance to France's version to Diagon Alley—Carré Magique. Charity's heart beat faster when she thought of how much Deanna would have to look at there. Even full grown witches and wizards became like giddy little children in the care-free magical square. It was impossible not to when surrounded by ribbons of paint in every color flying out of wands and onto canvasses...as well as the occasional pedestrian. But before she pushed the stroller over the threshold of the store, Charity came to her senses.

Carré Magique was too touristy. There would no doubt be vacationing British magicals in there, and she couldn't risk running into someone who might recognize her. Not while she was pushing around Snape's child. She'd gone through all this trouble to shield Deanna from the British tabloids and couldn't let it all be for nothing. But she didn't walk immediately away. The magical square called to her.

Last year she'd been in very much the same predicament—she'd wanted to go in, but had to hide herself away, deny who she was. The loneliness of those days flooded back into her, except now it was worse. Because Snape wouldn't be waiting at her apartment when she returned. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, and she pushed the stroller quickly away. She wouldn't cry. She had Snape's child now. Her child. How could she be lonely? But she was.

. . . . .

By late April Deanna was eating solid foods and thus taking longer and more predictable naps, which made bringing her into work much easier. Mother and daughter fell into a pattern—they typically took a morning walk around Luxembourg Gardens before going into the shop, where Deanna would amuse herself in her jumpy for an hour, then eat lunch and take a long nap. When she woke, she was usually in a fairly happy mood and saved cranky time for when she was home alone with mommy in the evening.

As had become the routine, the baby was taking her late morning nap in the back while Charity minded the store. Natalie was in the Magical section helping a handsome young wizard. He'd come in looking for concentrated herbs to enhance his physical training, but he was now in the adult section where Natalie was showing him various lotions and gels to enhance performance in other, more personal, areas. Charity couldn't hear them, but Natalie appeared to be describing the function of each product in enough detail to make the guy blush, despite his obvious efforts to maintain a cocky and flirtatious smirk on his face.

Charity was distracted from watching them when a tall, cloaked figure stepped from behind a tall cabinet and moved toward her. She hadn't heard him come in.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Savu. Has it been six months already?" she asked.

He dipped his hood in acknowledgment and came over to the counter where he loomed over Charity. "Male or female?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Pardon?" Charity replied.

"The baby."

"Oh. It's a girl." She smiled, trying to deflect attention from his awkward manners.

"She is here?"

"Yes. She's taking her nap now, so I'm sorry you can't meet her. Perhaps next time. "

He reached a dark sleeve over the counter and let his long, scarred fingers slide out to lightly grasp Charity's forearm. It took all her will to not pull back from his cold touch.

"I'd like very much to see her." The roughness in his voice was gone, and he now spoke in a smooth whisper.

The gentle murmur relaxed her, and she looked up into the shadowy hood. Through the darkness she could see his eyes as their watery surfaces reflected the shop's light. They were intently focused on her.

"You vill show her to me."

"I…" She would. Of course she would. She couldn't think of why she'd ever thought not to.

"Ah, Monsieur Savu!" Natalie's voice cut in as she re-entered the Muggle portion of the store. "I was just bringing your order up front so I'd be ready for you this time"

Savu released Charity's arm, and his eyes seemed to retreat into the depths of his hood and disappear.

"You're here considerably earlier than usual," Natalie said. "I assume this is all you need today?"

The hood again dipped down and then up. Natalie came around the counter and began ringing up the sale, and Charity was glad of it. Her brain felt slightly fuzzy, as if she'd just woken, and she wasn't sure she could work all the buttons on the Muggle register just then. Something was very strange about Monsieur Savu.

He paid for his product and left without another word.

"Are you all right?" Natalie asked Charity.

"Oh, yes, fine. It's just…I don't mean to be rude—I swear it isn't about his appearance—but something makes me uncomfortable about him."

"You have good instincts," Natalie replied. The little bell rang over the door as a new customer entered. "Bonjour. Let me know if I can be of assistance, s'il vous plait."

The customer nodded her appreciation and stayed up front to peruse the Muggle offerings.

Charity took the opportunity to ask quietly. "What happened to him? How did he get those scars?"

Natalie pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Eh, eh, eh. You know I do not tell my customers' secrets. If I did, then they might as well take their business to the gossip shops in Carré Magique."

Charity very much respected her partner's discretion…even still, she wanted to know more about Savu. "You tell me my instincts to be wary are good, so don't you think you ought to explain why?"

Natalie hesitated for a moment, and then responded in measured words. "Monsieur Savu and I have an understanding. You don't need to worry. He comes for his supply every six months and that is that. You shouldn't ever need to have any other interaction with him—you should avoid any other interaction with him."

Charity felt an odd tugging at her gut. As if there was something she was forgetting, something she should tell Natalie. But no, all he had done was come over to the counter, and then Natalie had immediately arrived with his order. That was all. She was being silly.

The handsome wizard Natalie had been helping earlier stepped out of the armoire with a sly grin and an armload of bottles and tubes.

The shop owner's lips curved into a sultry smile. "My, my you're an ambitious one." Natalie spoke in her native tongue, as she did with most of her customers. Charity, while not fluent at speaking French, could understand it fairly well and so was able to follow her partner's conversations.

The wizard dropped his load on the counter and fixed his startlingly blue eyes on Natalie. "Still think you can handle helping me out with a test run? On all of this?"

Natalie began ringing the items up while she let out a low chuckle under her breath. When she came to a black glass jar, the laugh died in her throat, and she paused in her action to take a large gulp. It was the first time Charity had seen her partner anything other than cool and in complete control.

Natalie shook her head slightly and completed the sale. When she handed the young Casanova his bag, she maintained her own grip on it as she told him, "Don't overexert yourself this afternoon, and eat a big lunch. There will be not time for eating or resting after I arrive…and I promise you'll need every ounce of your strength."

Now it was his turn to gulp, and Charity was very glad when Deanna started to coo in her crib, necessitating her mother's timely exit.

. . . . .

Later that same night, Charity settled Deanna into her crib, and debated whether to read or watch the telly during the hour or so before she too would drift off to sleep. She was leaning toward climbing into bed and reading when there was a knock on her door.

The knock startled her more than such an ordinary occurrence should have, but nobody ever came to visit her, and she couldn't imagine who it could be. She moved cautiously to the door, and cracked it open just enough to peek through. She kept her arm flexed, ready to slam the door shut again if need be. But when she saw who it was, her shock left her arm numb. She knew this man. And she couldn't believe he'd show up at her home.

When she recollected herself and the reality of who stood in wait outside her door fully registered, she screamed. Then she flung open the door and leaped into the arms of Oliver Wood.

"Charity Burbage," he manage to choke out through the tight squeeze she had around his neck. "How are you?"

The sound of that familiar voice combined with the feel of his strong hands pressed against her back, holding her up, was too much. All her loneliness of the past several months climbed to the surface, and her resolve to ignore it crumbled. She buried her head in his neck and let the tears flow, clinging to him as she sobbed, unable to do anything else. She hadn't realized exactly how lonely she'd been until she'd stopped trying to suppress it.

Oliver held her close and didn't say a word. While she wept, he carried her into the apartment, shut the door, and brought her over to the couch. When she finally calmed down, she found herself curled on his lap. His shirt collar was saturated with her tears.

"Oh, Ollie, I'm so sorry. I just…" Her words were broken by a tiny hiccup in her breathing, and Oliver shushed her with his thumb over her lips.

He brought his other had up to gently wipe away her tears. "There's no need to apologize. You don't belong here. You belong home in England. Let's pack up right now. I'll bring you home myself."

Charity wriggled her mouth away from his hand and said, "No, Ollie. I like it here. I do. I…I'm still adjusting, but I will adjust. And I suppose I'm still the victim of hormones." She watched him tentatively as she said the next sentence, because she wasn't sure how much her mother may have told him. "The baby's only four months old."

Oliver gave her a soft, reassuring smile, letting her know he'd heard the news and didn't judge her. Of course he didn't. "Where is she? I'd love to meet her."

Charity's still-moist eyes glittered when she smiled back at him. "She's sleeping right now, but come on. You can see her."

She stood up and grasped Oliver's hand to lead him to the baby's room. She stopped just inside the doorway, and Oliver stepped in close behind her to peer at the crib, where they could just make out the baby's tiny, sleeping form by the glow of a dragon nightlight. Charity felt Oliver's free hand slide around to her abdomen and his chin rest on the top of her head as he took it all in.

"So she's the reason you were dizzy that day, back at Hogwarts," he said in a low murmur.

"Mhm."

"Did you know?"

"No. I found out after you left."

"Mmm."

They stood quietly, watching Deanna's chest rhythmically rise and fall, and Charity relaxed into Oliver's chest. They had so much to talk about, but for the moment, she simply wanted to stand there, surrounded by her friend from home. Something about Oliver always made her feel safe and protected, and that's exactly what she needed right then. He didn't seem in any rush to move from their current position either.