Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am not making any profit whatsoever in writing this story. I write it purely for the sake of my own and others enjoyment.
A/N: There is just a little bit of innuendo in this chapter, as well as a hint of something that James thinks. I don't think it's bordering on M, it's still in the T zone. But this was just to let you know.
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Chapter Two: Obligation
"Apparently the Le Creuxs are the crème de la crème of French wizarding aristocracy. You'd think the old hag would at least choose someone a little closer to home," Sirius grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning stiffly against the chair at his back. "Well at least there's one good thing about the situation . . ." Sirius paused, cocking his head to the side. To the two others sitting around the table he appeared to be thinking rather a lot. "No," he drawled eventually. "No I can't think of anything beneficial about this situation at all. My life is going to be sacrificed; my mental wellbeing is going to be sacrificed, and my co —"
"That's enough!" Lily interjected hastily, stopping Sirius from finishing that alarming word.
He blinked at her.
"Don't give me that kicked puppy look Sirius Black! And if you finish that sentence," she continued as Sirius opened his mouth, "I'm going to hex the subject matter off, if you know what I mean."
Sirius, along with his best friend, winced and shifted uncomfortably where they sat.
"That's harsh Lil's," said James, adjusting his glasses, which only partly hid the horror reflected in his eyes.
"Are you forgetting, James dear," said Lily in a sickly sweet voice, "that your son is present."
James took the time to glance over at Harry, positioned on a high chair, staring at them all curiously with his gorgeous emerald eyes. Looking at those eyes reminded James just how much he daren't disagree with his wife.
"Course," he mumbled, avoiding Sirius' gaze in favour of staring at his son's. "Don't know what I was thinking."
"What's this?" Sirius gasped, and James went pink, still determinedly looking away. "The James Potter, Hogwarts' Hex-a-lot, Quidditch Captain, Head of Transfiguration —"
"Alright Padfoot, you've made your point —"
"— is afraid of his little itty bitty wife?" Sirius finished in contrived disbelief.
"Itty bitty?" Lily repeated, sounding like she wasn't sure whether to be amused or angry. "I'll have you know that size has no conjecture on talent. And I can certainly throw a good hex, as James had the misfortune to get in the way of on our wedding night." Then she gasped and turned bright red. "I mean, I really didn't mean . . . Oh Sirius! Only you!" She glared at the man in question, who was doubled-up in delighted laughter.
James had bent over in the pretence of tying Harry's shoe lace in order to hide his blushing face. As it was, Harry was laughing along with Sirius and clapping his tiny hands, as most babies would when they were feeling entertained.
Betrayed by my own flesh and blood, was James' brief thought before he straightened up again and hastily forked some roasted pumpkin and steak into his mouth, all the while not daring to look up at his best friend.
Sirius' laughter died down eventually and he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Neither James nor Lily could tell whether it was a real one, or whether it was a deliberate action only performed to commemorate the finishing touch to his laughter.
"Yes well," he said now. "I wouldn't be me, would I, if I don't manage to wangle out at least some embarrassing stories when I come over? Stories of James, I mean. But this one is really a kicker. Or it would be, if you would care to tell me the details . . ." he drawled.
Lily was mortified. "Not on your life!"
Sirius sighed sadly, mournfully. Again, neither James nor Lily could tell whether it was contrived or not, he was that good. "Alas, I must live with my insatiable curiosity. Which means I'll have to keep asking, and asking, and asking, until —"
"You won't this time!" Lily interrupted, finally fed up. "We weren't talking about James and I, we were talking about you. Or rather you were complaining, and we were listening."
Sirius and James both sat up at this. They were frowning at her.
"That was harsh, Lils," James said again, and Sirius looked as though he had eaten something disagreeable.
Lily winced and stared apologetically at him. "I'm so sorry Sirius," she told him. "You know I didn't mean it."
When Sirius answered his voice was clipped. "I know, Lily."
She sighed, and placed her hands on either side of her plate. She had painted her nails a deep vermillion and the colour glared up at him, mocking his weakness; the weakness that said he simply could not contain himself, that he simply hated his life at the moment.
Lily saw, and her eyes became gentle. "I know how much you despise all this and I completely . . . well, I completely disregarded your feelings." Her eyes turned a little misty. "I'm just so worried about you! If you continue like this, you might sink into a depression —!"
"Calm down, Lily," her husband said gently. "We're all tense right now, and Sirius has more on his plate than most of us . . ."
"Yes," Sirius said, pushing back his chair and standing up. He tossed his hair away from his face with a small, elegant shake of his head. "And I, unlike most of us, have to eat everything on it." His eyes had turned dark velvet.
"Where are you going?" James said, following suit.
"Hogsmede," Sirius answered promptly. He turned and strolled toward the fireplace. "To get drunk out of my marbles," he threw back over his shoulder. Then he plucked a pinch of floo powder from the mantelpiece and threw it into the flames. He stepped in. "And hopefully, to forget how horrible my life is at the moment . . . and how horrible I'm acting," he added almost to himself before shouting "Hogs Head Inn!" and disappearing in an explosion of green flames.
The moment Sirius was gone James whirled on his wife, who grimaced at the glare her husband threw her.
"I know James; you don't have to tell me." She stood up and busied herself with spelling the dishes away to the sink.
"We'd almost gotten him to forget for a little while, and what do you do?"
"I know, I know!" she shrilled. "Honestly, you think I didn't regret it as soon as I had said it?"
James groaned and plonked down on the cushiony dinning chair. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "He's my best mate. My brother. I love him. I can't stand to see him . . . This isn't like Sirius at all. And," he looked up at Lily who gasped at the hopelessness in his eyes, "I'm worried about him. I'm worried he'll do something stupid. I'm worried he'll fly that stupid motorbike of his while he's drunk one of these days and veer off into a tree or something. But I'm more worried he won't do it by accident."
Lily squeaked. "You can't mean that he'd . . . ?" she couldn't finish the terrifying thought. She gestured with her hand instead.
"Can't I? I really don't know. With the way he's acting . . ."
"He wouldn't, James." Lily moved to the highchair to lift Harry, who'd fallen asleep sometime in the bustle. She cuddled him gently against her shoulder. "He's just feeling a little . . . down, at the moment. He hates being forced to do things he doesn't want to do."
James lifted a brow. "Don't we all?"
"Yes but, Sirius takes it to the extreme. You, better than anyone, know what his childhood was like. And when it's his mother ordering . . . well you really can't blame him, can you? It's doubly worse. He can't get out of it, that's the horrible thing. He can't let the Order disintegrate. He can't let everyone down."
"He's letting himself down," James muttered. He stood up. "Give me Harry. I'll put him to bed."
"Alright."
Once Harry was held snugly against his chest he looked down at his wife. She was almost a head shorter than he was, so she had to tilt her head to gaze up at him. Her red hair, so long and wavy, swung a little with the action. He loved her hair. So wonderfully rich and smelling of pomegranates, and so full of life, just like her. He loved burying his nose in it and inhaling all those scents when they made love. It never failed to stir him. He adored fanning it out on their pillows. He adored that his limbs became entangled in it when they got a little too vigorous. "I want you tonight. I need you tonight," he whispered, and watched as she caught her breath. A pretty flush stained her cheeks.
"You want me every night."
"And every morning. And every afternoon. And —"
"I'll wait for you."
"I'm putting Harry to bed now."
She nodded, her eyes dropping down to his lips. "Good."
He groaned and leaned down to steal a quick kiss, which quickly became a long kiss. He felt a stirring way down below and gradually lessened the intensity. There was plenty of time for that later. When they were brought back from the ferociousness of it all, he found that Lily was nibbling lightly on his bottom lip. At last she sighed and looked up at him.
"I'm going upstairs."
"Mm–hmm."
"Make sure to charm that little toy Snitch of his so that it flutters above his cot, in case he wakes up during the night."
"Will do."
She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's temple, looked up, threw him a stare that made him smirk wickedly, and sauntered out of the room. James leered at her back, particularly the lower part, until she disappeared around a corner.
He glanced down at his baby, curled up asleep in his arms. Gently, his lips skimmed over the downy black hair.
"I am one lucky bloke, Harry. I just hope your Godfather can have the same with his new fiancée."
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Antoinette Jacqueline Le Creux – or Toni as her loved ones were fond of calling her – was in good spirits this morning. Having absolutely no idea of her imminent marriage, or that it would take place in no less than four weeks; she was getting ready to make some serious travel plans. She was seventeen after all, a matured witch just out of school. It seemed the right thing to do when one graduated. The only problem was that she really didn't know where to go. And not to mention, she had yet to inform her parents about her decision. They would not be pleased.
She looked down at her newest little love, Adele. She had discovered her just that morning, a slight weight resting across her chest. She had opened her eyes to find the colour of the darkest sapphire staring back at her, endorsed with a pure white mane and adorable little pink nose. She'd fallen immediately in love and spent the rest of the next half hour before breakfast cuddling the kitten under the bedcovers.
She knew the presence of the kitten could be accounted to her parents. They had often bestowed such surprises on her when she had been small, but when she had reached puberty they had ceased surprising her, most likely thinking she grew bored of such gifts. But Antoinette never had. She adored them, especially this newest one.
But she had to wonder as to why they had given her Adele now. What was the reason? What was the motive? Surely they must want something of her. But for the life of her Antointette could not figure out what.
She shrugged slightly. There was no use wondering about it now, her parents would likely tell her only when they wanted to and not before.
Running her eyes over the form in the gild-framed mirror that was situated in the corner of her very extensive bedroom, Antoinette bit her lip. Not in disdain at her appearance, but in admiration. Despite what it might seem like to others, she was not a vain girl, but she did appreciate and recognise a pretty face when she saw it, and she wasn't stupid as to say that hers was not. What she did not like though, was the robe she had chosen to wear today. A black tasselled creation that her Great Aunt had procured from some out there shop that didn't even bear describing. Crow feathers were what came to mind when one looked at this creation. Crow feathers that stuck in every direction, sometimes even fluttering up to tickle her noise.
She shuddered.
There was no backing out, though. Her Great Aunt, Helena, was most likely downstairs at this very moment — as Antoinette and her parents had been informed she would be in a letter that had arrived last night by way of a, if one would dare to believe, crow — and would be pleased to see her niece adorned in the very clothes which she had bought for her; the clothes that were at least one hundred years out of fashion. Helena herself was one hundred and sixteen years old, and getting progressively older. Antoinette understood that for the very old it was hard to let go of the past sometimes, but really, this was taking it to the extreme, surely?
Sighing slightly, and making sure that no hair was out of place, she kissed Adele on her soft head and walked out of the room. Making her way downstairs she pondered on Helena. She had not seen her Great Aunt in seven years and to say she had been surprised to receive that crow of hers last night was an understatement. Helena only ever requested to come over when some new happening was about to take place. The last time was when Antoinette herself had received her acceptance letter from Beaubatons. Helena had thought that a worthy thing to celebrate and she had shown up in their fireplace with a house elf tightly clutching her skirts and a bottle of the finest two hundred year old French wine in hand.
At last coming to the end of the curving staircase Antoinette entered the drawing room, passing under the portrait of herself and her family that was painted seventeen years ago, and stepped into the conjoining breakfast parlour. She met Lime, one of the family house elves, standing diligently by the entrance, balancing a large buttress of buttered scones on a silver platter. She plucked a couple from the top before turning, and allowing her gaze to rest on the occupants in the room.
Helena, withered and spectacularly ancient, sat between her parents like an opposing piece on a chess board. She was cloaked all in black, as usual, and atop her head there rested an enormous black swan. Dead of course, but stuffed, and placed there to represent the family crest, which was of two black swans with their necks coiled together. Helena condoned pure blood and family pride above all things.
Antoinette smiled warmly in greeting and went to kiss first Helena (as protocol and courtesy demanded) then her parents on both cheeks, before placing herself to sit opposite them.
"Good morning," she greeted.
"Humph!" said Helena, and Antoinette felt it was only proper that she ask what was bothering her.
"You never thanked me for that robe you are now wearing. Not by letter or floo did you think to express your gratitude. I should ask for it back. It should not belong to an ungrateful specimen such as you. I know plenty of girls who would be delighted to claim it!"
Hearing that, Antoinette wished that she'd never asked. "I am sorry, Aunt Helena. I assumed you had received that owl I sent seven years ago when she did not come back after a few days. Perhaps she lost the letter?"
Helena grunted again, which meant she accepted that excuse, before shovelling some yogurt in her mouth.
Antoinette cleared her throat. "That reminds me, Maman, Papa. I cannot thank you enough for Adele. She's lovely."
Her mother inclined her head and smiled, a little shakily? "Your welcome, Antoinette."
Edmond set down the coffee cup he had been drinking onto its saucer so that a small clink sounded, and drew a deep breath. His blue gaze pierced Antoinette where she sat. There was something very wrong happening here, she was sure.
"There was a reason we purchased her for you, dearest," her father admitted.
Antoinette did not mince her words. "I figured that already, Papa. After all, you haven't given me such gifts since I was a little girl." She stared at him for a full ten seconds before spreading blueberry jam on her scones.
This action caused her not to notice the glances Tatienne and Edmond exchanged.
As it was, Helena had her say first. "Are you going to tell her, Edmond?" she asked her nephew. "I, for one, find this tension very dull and not at all amusing. I should like to go home to my château as soon as possible. A bath awaits me there, and some amusements."
Antoinette carefully kept her emotions concealed behind an icy exterior, as she always did when she felt defensive. She did not even look up at her family, but kept her eyes on her hands, which were still busy spreading what now had to be the whole jar of blueberry jam. She had known there was something . . .
"Mon petite enfant."
Antoinette did look up now, at her father, who had been the one to address her. He called her "my little child" as a term of affection. But it wasn't a term she had often heard of late. In fact the last time he had called her that had been the first day of her magical schooling career when she had ridden the carriage to Beaubatons.
"Is something wrong, Papa?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral. She wasn't to know that her somewhat coolly arched eyebrow revealed what she felt on the inside.
"Well, Antoinette, it would depend on how you look at the situation. We will leave you to determine if you find it wrong or not."
She noticed the glances her parents exchanged, and the apprehensive looks on their faces. She became irritated. What on earth was going on? And more importantly, when exactly would they stop beating about the bush and tell her?
"Papa?" she prompted, glancing at her father's face.
Edmond gulped a few times. It looked like he was trying to get rid of a lump in his throat. "You're betrothal has come to light, daughter. In two weeks you will meet your fiancé in England and in a month's time you will marry."
Antoinette stared at her parents for a good minute, her eyes roving between their figures, but never really looking them in the eye. Then she stared at her Aunt, whom, by some surprising miracle, seemed to have fallen asleep. But that did not matter because she now knew why she was here, and why her parents had given her Adele this morning. She felt her heart sink into her stomach. She was afraid it just might rest there for a while, at least until she sorted all her thoughts out.
Well, she knew her parents were not joking, the looks on their faces, as well as the fact that she had never heard them tell a joke in her entire life confirmed that. Besides, they would have no cause to joke about something this big, something to do with her future. And the worst of it was she could not escape it, she knew that. She had resigned herself to the fact long ago. But she had not thought her betrothed would summon her so soon. She had just finished her education a few months ago. She had yet to see the world. But now she could not.
"What is my fiancé like?"
She hadn't even known she was going to ask that question. It had just slipped out, something to cover the dreadful silence with; something to mask her thoughts with.
"We do not know. But Sirius Black is rumoured to be very handsome," her father said, and Antoinette refrained from lifting a brow at him. He had spoken quickly, and sounded as if he had just made something up on the spot. Her mother's reaction, which looked towards her husband in surprise, confirmed that as well.
"He is not old then?" Antoinette asked, desperately praying that he wasn't.
"No, he is barely twenty-two himself. I do not know much about him. Except that his family is very wealthy — and of course he has all the prerequisite bloodlines."
She nodded, suddenly feeling numb.
"I accept what I must do." She barely said that without choking. As it was she felt a horrible tightness in her throat that she knew would not go away until she had time and space to let it out. But not here. Never here, in front of her parents and Aunt.
Her parents sighed in relief.
"May I be excused please?"
"Of course darling," was the answer, and Antoinette's mind had gone so blank that she wasn't sure who had said it.
Her mother leaned forward and kissed her cheek as she stood up. Antoinette offered both her parents a small, sad smile before gracefully walking out of the room. As soon as the parlour door shut behind her she broke into a run, heading outside to the gardens, anywhere but in the house that suddenly seemed so confining, that suddenly seemed so like a prison. She approached some large flowering shrubs; a garden bench was ingeniously concealed between their branches, and she collapsed on it in an undignified heap.
It took a while for her to realise that the wetness on her cheeks were her own tears and not a drizzle of rain as she had first assumed. She brushed them aside angrily with her palms. She would not let this defeat her. She would give this Sirius Black a chance to see what he was like. She would go to him in two weeks time. She would act the perfect fiancée of a pureblood wizard, the modicum of French womanhood and nobility. If he was just another dumb pureblood, she would straighten him out. It would be a simple thing for her to make him eat out of the palm of her hand. But if he didn't listen, if he turned out to be one of those controlling pureblood wizards that looked down on women and believed that that was where there place should be, well, she really didn't know what she would do.
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The moment that Tatienne could no longer see her daughter's long golden hair through the window of the parlour room she turned to her husband and very nearly hissed. "She took that far too calmly."
Her hiss awakened Aunt Helena, who grunted a little before glancing around. "Where is Antoinette? Has she been told? Can I leave now?"
"Yes, Aunt, to all questions," Edmond answered. "And Antoinette is currently in the gardens, most likely crying her eyes out."
Helena humphed before standing up. "In my day we accepted our due. None of this crying nonsense." She flapped a dismissive hand. "But as long as she has accepted it . . ."
"She knows her place, Helena," Tatienne said stiffly, not looking up from her plate. "If she did not she would risk our displeasure, and Toni has never gone so far as to do that."
"Toni?" Helena fairly spat. "Why do you still insist on calling her by the awful pet name? She is no longer a child to be coddled so."
"Yes, but she is still my child, Helena." Tatienne looked up at her husband's Aunt at last. "You will do well to remember that."
Helena humphed again. "At least she will not be that for long. I know Walburga Black personally. Have known her for years. She was the granddaughter of a very good friend of mine, and her own mother was French. But once Antoinette has been made a Black, that will be the end of your familial association with her. She will be English, she will be miserable, and she will be Walburga's. It is exactly what the girl needs to curb her temperament."
"That is illegal, Aunt." Edmond said, dabbing the corner of his lip with a silk handkerchief in order to remove a crumb that wasn't even there. "No one can keep Antoinette from seeing her own parents. No matter how much power and influence they might have with their Ministry."
"Did I say that? I simply said the end of your familial association, not all association. Besides, what is with all this prevarication? You thought it a very good idea to affiance Antoinette seventeen years ago. Are you now having a change of mind?"
"Not at all, we still think it a good match," Edmond assured, and Tatienne nodded. "What we object to is your continual dismissal of Antoinette and your instance on treating her as a woman from your own time. These are new times, Aunt. Of muggle clothes, and muggle relations, and muggle automobiles. Such a thing is now considered fashionable. At least for the younger generation. Things are changing, and we must change with them, no matter how much we might despise the fact. Toni is a child of this new world. She was born into it."
"If you believe that, you must be drunk," his Aunt answered. "Or Beaubatons has influenced you, just as it has obviously influenced your daughter. I told your father to send you to Durmstrang —!"
"There is nothing wrong with Beaubatons," Edmond interrupted calmly. "And I still maintain my stance. I do not like mudbloods and I never will. I am just saying that the wizarding world is changing, slowly but surely. It would be prudent to change with it. The politicians are."
"Politicians are politicians," said Helena as if that explained everything. But there was less heat behind her words and Edmond and Tatienne could tell she had given up fighting. "I can see you will not be budged. So I will see you in two weeks. If not then, or if I forget, I will meet you at the wedding. Goodbye."
Helena offered her wrinkled cheek to Edmond and his wife and they both kissed it before she turned, and stepped into the fireplace. A second later she was gone.
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