I've had fun with this, so I hope you enjoy it.


Two: Surprise

As it turned out, the perfect excuse not to stay to dinner was on her dressing table, hopping from foot to foot.

“Hello Araceli, have you brought me something?”

The tawny owl gave a dignified hoot and held out her leg. Hermia untied the scroll.

“There’s water and food down stairs,” Hermia informed the owl, stroking her gently on the head. “I’m sure Artemis will be glad to see you.”

The owl gave another hoot to show that she had understood and took off through the open window. Hermia unrolled the scroll to see very familiar handwriting and smiled broadly.

Quote:

Dear H,

I’m back! Get you glad robes on, me and you are going dancing. Muggle attire is a must. I can’t wait to see you Beautiful Girl.

Be at mine by 8 pm!

J xxx

Hermia knew that the best chance she had of Amelia not talking her out of going was to go down stairs with only a few minutes to spare. As she could still hear Remus splashing about in the bath, she opened the muggle side of her wardrobe and started to put together an outfit. Ten minutes later, when she heard Remus getting out of the bath (and from the sound of it leaving half of the water on the floor), she had chosen an outfit. She almost skipped to the bathroom with happiness; she had to remind herself very strongly that she was just going out with a friend. A gorgeous friend who had always... She shook her self mentally. She couldn’t seem too happy; she didn’t want Ashtad to glean any details from her demeanour. She didn’t want to hand him ammunition, after all.

~

“You know that Hermia hates me, don’t you boss?”

Teddy gave him a puzzled look. He pushed open the door to the cottage.

“Does she? Since when?

“Since school. We didn’t exactly get off to a good start and it’s been down hill since then.”

“Why, what happened?”

Ashtad was saved from answering what would have been a rather tricky question by Amelia. “Hello you two. Ted, darling, I can’t find...”

“...the cook book so would I mind making dinner tonight?” Her husband replied automatically, with a lazy Maraurderish grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You know me so well.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, “Ashtad, would you like a drink? Tea? Mead? Wine?”

“A cup of tea would be lovely, thanks.”

Teddy and Amelia made themselves busy in the kitchen. Ashtad offered to help, but was given strict instructions to sit at the table and relax as he was a guest. Eventually, Remus snuck into the kitchen in his pyjamas, apparently feeling very shy. He went and stood next to his father.

“Hello, I’m Ashtad. Are you Remus?” Ashtad smiled widely to try and make Remus feel comfortable.

Remus nodded.

“In that case I’ve got a surprise for you.” Ashtad put his hand in his pocket and seemed to make a fist. He withdrew his fist and placed it on the table. He slowly uncurled his fingers but kept his hand cupped on the table. Remus looked curious, but still a little bit nervous. “Are you going to come and have a look?”

Remus looked up at Teddy uncertainly. Teddy laughed. “Go on! He won’t bite!”

Remus flitted across the room, sitting on the chair next to Ashtad. Ashtad slowly lifted his thumb and index finger up, tilting his hand to one side. Remus let out a squeal of pleasure.

“He’s for me? Really?” His amber eyes seemed to stand out on stalks. “He’s really for me?” Ashtad nodded and laughed as Remus scooped up the tiny figure of Oliver Wood, who was burly even in miniature.

“I found him in a drawer at home and your dad told me that you like him more than anyone else.”

“Oh thanks!” Remus beamed up at Ashtad. After that there was no stopping him, going into in depth analysis of why Oliver Wood should go back to Keeping and leave his job as the Head of Magical Games and Sports. Teddy and Ashtad joined in and just Amelia’s smile was becoming slightly fixed at the length of the Quidditch debate, Hermia walked into the kitchen. Ashtad had to remind himself to keep breathing; his body seemed to have lost the ability to breathe automatically. She was framed in the doorway like a portrait; he had never seen her look that way before. It was almost like he was seeing her for the first time. She was wearing a very simple deep plum shift dress and matching shrug with knee length black boots. Her eyes were large and sparkling with excitement, her skin was like flawless alabaster. Her chocolate brown hair seemed to tumble impossibly around her face in curls with shafts of evening sunlight making it sparkle as though it had been dusted with gold.

“Oh, hi.” She greeted him dismissively. “Umm, Amelia, I’m really sorry but Jago’s just got back from Italy. He wants us to go out dancing.” Amelia gave her a pained look, trying to silently beg her to stay. “You know I haven’t seen him for months, you don’t mind do you?” Without waiting for an answer she kissed Teddy and Amelia and pulled Remus into a quick hug. “Don’t wait up!” She grinned as she made her way out of the kitchen.

“Bye Ash, see you at work maybe.” She threw the comment over her shoulder as an afterthought.

Ashtad watched her leave, feeling as though he had been doused in cold water. Remus had resumed his stream of Quidditch analysis, but Ashtad was only giving the bare minimum of responses required. He was too busy trying to work out what on earth had just happened.

*****

“Sont vous écoutant la Mademoiselle Smith?”

“Désolé Madame La Roux”

Hermia wasn’t listening to her Transfiguration professor; she already knew how to cast Cross Species Switching spells so as far as she was concerned she didn’t need to learn how to do it in French. She pretended to be taking notes, privately blessing the muggle who had thrown away Teach Yourself Shorthand in Eight Easy Lessons. It meant that she could make notes about anything she liked and no-one else would be able to read them apart from her. Rather than make notes about Switching Spells, she wrote a journal entry about the night she had spent with Valentin. A wide smile slowly spread over her face as she wrote about how he had kissed her neck as he pulled her into his arms. She realised that she was grinning soppily and shook her head, disgusted with herself. She was not one of those girls and no amount of poetry and flowers from a handsome Parisian would turn her into one.

*****

Hermia woke the next morning after only a few hours sleep. Light was streaming through a gap in the heavy curtains and she saw that she was alone. She looked up, expecting to see the sloping ceiling of her own bedroom but instead saw a high ceiling with a beautiful ceiling rose, suspended from which was a graceful candle filled chandelier. She realised that she was lying in a queen sized bed, covered with a warm damask blanket and soft cotton sheets. She looked around at the head board and saw intricately carved flowers and hummingbirds. She swung her legs out of the bed and felt the thick carpet below her bare feet. She saw her clothes, neatly laid over a chair. She hugged herself, pulling the unfamiliar man’s shirt closer to her body and took a deep breath. A scent from the shirt filled her nostrils.

“Jago.” She whispered his name and the memories came flooding back. They had into the danced until the early hours of the morning in a small muggle nightclub, revelling in the unfamiliar joy of each other’s company. She remembered dancing to a slow song with her head resting on his shoulder and feeling happiness overflowing from her heart. She couldn’t remember him letting her go all night; if he wasn’t holding her hand then his hand was resting on her hip or was protectively positioned on the small of her back. She blinked, realising that she must be in one of the guest room of his large London townhouse.

She crossed to the door and pulled it open. “Jago?” She called his name as she walked into the hall and he appeared, a pair of pyjama trousers hanging loosely on his lithe, athletic frame. His black eyes glittered in the early morning light and it was clear from his tousled dirty blond hair that he hadn’t been awake for very long either.

“Good morning Beautiful. Have you got time for a cup of tea before work?” His voice was gravelly after a night of talking over music.

“What do you mean, time before work, what time is it?” She looked at her own wrist, but her watch was missing.

He laughed at her softly and looked at his own watch. “It’s ten to ten.”

“Ten to ten? As in nine fifty am? In the morning?” Her voice became higher with each word. “I’m so late! I don’t have any robes or a toothbrush or anything!”

Jago smiled at her lazily. “What time were you supposed to be there?”

“I usually get there for quarter to eight! Hermione is going to kill me!” She started to pull her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth it.

Jago looked at her with amusement. “I’ve always understood that Fridays are a bit of a doss in offices.”

She cast him a dark look and he recoiled slightly. “Not when you work for Hermione Weasley they’re not! This is all your ruddy fault! Go do something useful! Make me a cup of coffee and get me a banana!” She continued to glare at him and the held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Of course Beautiful, you’re the boss, as always.” He gave her a last winning smile and disappeared down the stairs to the kitchen. She hurried back into the guestroom and started to get dressed, grabbing her watch from the bedside table, already able to imagine the scorching look that Hermione was going to give her.






Ok, so I must appologise profoundly to anyone who actually speaks French. Mine is supremely limited and rusty so if you have any corrections for me, please let me know!