Armilla

Chapter 41

The following morning dragged by so slowly it was painful. Father didn't even bother to join me for breakfast and for that I was grateful. The less I saw of that man the better. Of course, he hadn't bothered to leave me a message to say where he was. I didn't even know if he was in the house. So I ate alone until Jiffy came in and announced that I was to go on with my work in the library and Father would quiz me after lunch.

The work was so utterly boring and brainless that it was a struggle to stop my mind straying to more interesting thoughts. I managed to finish the ridiculous book from the day before and memorise its contents, though I wanted nothing more than to rip out each page one by one and cast a different hex on each page. I was sure that this library would contain enough books on hexes that I would be able to use a different hex for each and every page. But I kept at it, my mind complaining constantly that it wanted to go outside for fresh air and perhaps ride a broom. I often went riding with Terry and Lisa in the holidays...it was painful to have memories like that float into my head while I was sitting alone in my Father's library.

Shortly after the clock on the mantelpiece struck twelve, my father came into the room. I was a quarter of the way into Majestic Deportment by Muriel Lloyd-Rivers and quickly concealed my desire to laugh at it when I heard my father's footsteps. It was another brainless book written by an unbelievingly dense witch a number of generations ago.

A pureblood witch must conduct herself at all times with a regal air and sense of self-importance that denotes her position of significance within the wizarding world.

Bah humbug. What a load of hooey. If I hadn't found it on the table in my father's library I would have believed it came directly from the humour section in Flourish and Blotts. If I didn't know better, I would have promoted the book to my friends as a great example of a writer satirising snooty pureblood wizard folk.

"Lovely to see you so hard at work, my dear," said my Father, picking up The Role of a Pureblood Witch. "I hope you have been studying hard and not wasting time?"

"Yes, Father," I replied demurely, meeting his gaze.

"Good, good. Well then, we'll do a spot of testing before lunch, shall we?"

"Alright, Father." I felt so falsely pious the way I so politely accepted and agreed with everything the horrid old mule said.

"Very well. Let's begin."

And so for half an hour I was asked question after question and inwardly cringed after each answer until Father said "correct". His face remained impassive throughout the whole process and I wondered to what extent he thought of me as a piece of property that needed perfecting with extensive reading and the occasional hex for good measure.

"I think that will do," said Father finally, laying the book back on the table with such great reverence that I was thankful the man wasn't skilled at Legilimency - I would have been hexed like there was no tomorrow if he found out what I really wanted to do with that book.

"I am pleased that the little scare I gave you resulted in you making a greater effort with your study. Let us hope that I will not need to punish you again."

My blood boiled. You foul, nasty, old-

"Come," said Father, moving towards the door. "I believe it is time for lunch. Make haste, Armilla, we have a guest arriving this afternoon."

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Lunch was a dreary affair indeed. Since my book had stated that I was not to speak at the table unless spoken to while I was underage and too juvenile for proper conversation, my Father insisted that we practise. As a result, we spent the meal in silence. Well...at least there was no uncomfortable and forced conversation. I actually preferred not to talk to him. I knew Snape would have preferred it that way too. Maybe that was why Snape was such an aloof person - too many years of being forced to keep to himself at nearly every minute of the day.

If Father hadn't insisted that I practise being quiet, I would have asked who the visitor was. My gut feeling was that anyone who Father considered a friend was not worth trusting. As much as I appreciated not having to talk to Father, the major downfall was that my mind concentrated instead on having alarm bells go off because it was determined that whoever was coming had something to do with my marriage prospects.

Just as we were finishing, Jiffy swaggered in to announce the arrival of Father's guest.

"Excellent," said Father, standing up. "We will receive our guest in the main parlour, Jiffy."

"Very good, sir," Jiffy replied, bowing low before strutting back out of the room.

I stood up as well, putting all my concentration into occluding. Snape had warned me that Father liked to have guests...and some of them could very well be skilled in Legilimency.

"Just a minute, Armilla," said Father. "You are to pay the utmost respect and politeness to our guest. She came highly recommended to me from a close friend. If I hear of any disobedience on your part...I will not be pleased. Severus is not here to make your excuses. Understood?"

"Yes, Father." Ah, so it was a she. Perhaps the mother of a potential suitor. That was strange. I wouldn't have thought Father would bother conversing with the mother in his business deals.

Father nodded, moving towards the door. "Very well. Come along then."

I followed him out of the room, down the corridor and into the parlour in which he had received Snape and I the day before.

Standing a few metres away was a tall, thin woman, gazing out of the window at the vast grounds. Her slightly lined face told me that she would have to be in her early fifties. Everything about her was absolutely immaculate. She wore fitted heavy silk robes of cream with mint trimmings, and her fair hair was tied into a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Her nails glistened in the small beam of sunlight that passed through the narrow windows. She wore a small amount of make up, just enough to have her face free of blemishes without looking trashy like Rita Skeeter. It was very clear that this beautiful lady knew very well what it was to be elegant.

She turned at the sound of our footsteps and fixed Father and I with a warm smile.

"Ah, Madame Rougier," said Father, taking her hand. "Comment ça va?"

"Très bien, merci, Monsieur Snape! Call me Zita, please," she replied, smiling broadly. "It gives me great pleasure to be here." When she changed from French to English, her accent was so perfect I would never have known that she was French.

"I am delighted to have you here, Madame," said Father, inclining his head slightly. "This is my daughter, Armilla. Armilla, this is Madame Rougier. She will be your governess during your stay here."

Excuse me? Did the man just say governess? I was fifteen! Why the hell did he feel the need to get me a governess? I was only going to be there a week!

"Pleased to meet you, Madame Rougier," I said, shaking the woman's hand.

"What a lovely child you have, Monsieur Snape," she crooned. "Yes, very pretty indeed."

"Thankyou, Zita," Father replied pompously. "Her mother was a woman of great beauty and has evidently passed it along to our daughter."

"And that will help you very much, will it not, monsieur?"

"Oh, yes. You may notice that Armilla has the potential to add considerable wealth to the Snape fortune."

Oh, thankyou. Yes, apparently I had to potential to make my father richer. What a compliment.

"Yes, monsieur. I do see potential in Armilla already."

Hello? Was I invisible? Why were they talking as if I wasn't right there in front of them? Ah, yes, practise being silent. That, apparently, was my place as the resident ignorant fifteen-year-old pureblood witch. Gosh, bitterness was certainly taking up a considerable amount of space in my mind. Maybe Snape and I were more alike than I thought.

"I am glad that you do, Zita. When she puts her mind to it," Father cast me a nasty glare, "she is a fast learner. I dare say you will have her perfect for me by the evening of the twenty-ninth?"

"Of course, monsieur," she replied, inclining her head slightly. "We will work very hard, shall we not, Armilla?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I answered quietly. I wanted to go home. I didn't want to be turned into some sort of prim princess that bowed to the King's every request. I was thankful there was no pureblood royalty within the wizarding world. I had no doubt my father would have been adamant that I be trained to join them if there was one was.

"Then I will leave you to it," said Father graciously. "Armilla is in your hands for the next couple of days and I give you my full permission to deal with her in any way you see fit, as long as the end product is perfect."

The end product? Did I come with my own packaging and warranty?

"Merci, monsieur," said Madame Rougier, inclining her head again.

"She is generally well-behaved," Father went on, eyeing me like I was some sort of exhibit. "But you see, Madame, she has a much older brother with whom I share custody. Unfortunately, he is a bad influence on my dear daughter and it pains me to think that his neglect could leave Armilla a spinster."

Madame Rougier looked horrified. She looked at me, clicking her tongue in pity. "The poor dear," she said. "How sad it is that she must see her brother at all! It would have been such a comfort for you, monsieur, if you had been granted full custody. But as it is, you must make do." She looked at my father with a mixture of the utmost pity and respect.

If I hadn't been occluding so hard, I might have died from boiled blood by now. Was the damn woman really so naïve?

"Yes, indeed it is hard, Zita," said Father, really playing the role of martyr now. "What makes it worse is the fact that my son, Severus, is a teacher at Hogwarts, the school Armilla attends. She is constantly under his eye and it is all I can do to write my daughter letters to remind her where her loyalty should lie."

"Oh, how terrible!"

My loyalty? Oh, I knew who I was loyal to...

"Yes," said Father, nodding. "Severus won the right to have Armilla continue her education at Hogwarts when I wanted to withdraw her and enrol her at Beauxbatons instead. They pay a great deal more attention to the education of a wealthy young lady. I do not approve at all of the common louts Hogwarts produces among the female students. In fact, I'm sure even Severus might have had an eye for those lesser than his position as a pureblood wizard."

My hatred for my father grew so intense that I was thankful my mental shield did so well to conceal it. I didn't like him feeding Madame Rougier with such stupid information. As for Snape taking a liking to someone who wasn't pureblood, I was glad for that person's sake that she had never come into contact with my father. Actually, I couldn't imagine Snape ever taking a romantic liking to anyone...

"Well then, he clearly isn't worthy of your name, monsieur!"

"No, certainly not. Very well, very well," said Father. He looked at me with what he thought was a fond fatherly expression. "Do me proud, my dear, and do the utmost to make your new governess feel at home here."

"Yes, Father," I said politely. Perhaps the bimbo would be better company than my father anyway, though her stupidity was bound to annoy me. That was where Ravenclaws could be snobs at times - idiotic people generally weren't tolerated.

"Good," he said shortly. "I'll leave you to it then." He swept from the room, his robes flapping behind him.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I already felt like I was just as much a guest in this house as Madame Rougier was, no matter what my father thought. But before I could dwell on this, Madame Rougier took matters into her own hands.

"Right," she said briskly, clapping her hands together in a business-like manner and looking me up and down. "You are to address me as Madame Rougier or Ma'am at all times. It is my role to turn you into a proper lady in time for your father's gathering. We have a lot of work in front of us and I will not tolerate any rebelliousness on your part, no matter how strongly you may feel about not needing a governess. Often those who feel that strongly are the ones in the greatest need of guidance."

"Yes, M'am," I replied demurely. Excellent. There was nothing better than spending time with a woman who was full of herself.

"As I understand it, your closest family consists of two males. I highly doubt your nasty brother spends any time teaching you how to be a lady. Am I correct?"

"Yes, M'am," I answered. "I don't think he's ever felt the need to."

Madame Rougier smirked, raising her chin so she had to look down her nose at me.

"I see," she said nastily. "You already fancy yourself a lady then?"

"Well, I don't fancy myself a man," I retorted. Oh God, I had just said that out loud, hadn't I?'

Madame Rougier pursed her lips. "If I wasn't a lady, Armilla," she said in a soft voice, "I would have struck you for that outburst. The fact that your retort was crude demonstrates to me that you are no lady at all."

At that moment, Jiffy appeared in the room, bowing deeply to Madame Rougier.

"Jiffy is to show Madame Rougier to her room," he said.

Madame Rougier nodded stiffly.

"Very well," she shot me a nasty look. "I am not finished with you. You may join me while I unpack. Lead the way, elf."

We followed Jiffy into the entrance hall and up the stairs. Instead of going up the right staircase, we went to the left. Obviously, Father wanted the nasty cow to stay in the guest quarters. I was just thankful he wasn't going so far as to have her stay in my own bedroom with me.

Jiffy opened a door in a room a lot smaller than mine, but nevertheless still spacious and neat. It was decorated in forest green and silver, to remind the guest that this was a Slytherin home.

"Ah, how lovely," Madame Rougier cooed.

Jiffy bowed himself out and we were alone once more.

Madame Rougier turned to face me again.

"Turn around," she instructed harshly, making a spinning motion with her index finger.

I did so, feeling like an exhibit again.

"Too fast you stupid child," she said. "Don't you get petulant with me. I have taught many children your age to be ladies and your huffiness will not put me off at all. Turn around, slowly."

I turned slowly, feeling more than ever that I wanted to curse the blasted woman. I wondered what Snape would have thought of her.

Madame Rougier shook her head in disdain.

"No, no, not a lady at all, I think. A proper lady is disciplined, Armilla, something which I feel you lack in. I daresay your horrid brother doesn't discipline you at all."

Well, that proved how little she knew of Snape. Snape and discipline generally went together in the same sentence.

"Your height is a failing. You need to stand up straighter and not slouch so."

I did my best not to scowl. I was not slouching. I had never slouched in my life.

"Did you bother doing your hair this morning?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Mmm..." she shook her head. "Well I am afraid it doesn't show. Why aren't you wearing any make up?"

"I...generally don't wear it," I stammered.

She clicked her tongue again and closed her eyes, looking quite affronted. "Do I dare ask if you even own any make up?"

"I have some," I answered, knowing perfectly well that Madame Rougier was not likely to be satisfied with the small amount I did have. Merle had bought me make up for the Yule Ball the year before.

"Then it will become a part of your morning routine to apply make up."

"My morning routine?"

She shook her head in exasperation. "Dear me, this is worse than I thought. You don't have a beauty routine that you carry out each day?"

"That depends. What does a beauty routine consist of?"

"Not just cleansing yourself, but having a skincare routine, applying make up, setting your hair..."

"Then...no, I don't," I said stiffly. I didn't need or want a ridiculous beauty routine. I imagined being late to Potions and offering an excuse of "I was carrying out my beauty routine" to Snape. I was sure I would deserve the detention that would follow.

Madame Rougier shook her head yet again. "Show me your nails," she said.

I held out my hands. My nails were perfectly clean and seemed the right length to me, but of course, didn't impress my governess at all.

"When was the last time you had your nails done?"

"I've never had my nails done." Hmm, maybe I would ask Snape to take me to get a manicure. Might as well throw in a pedicure too. What the hell, let's go the whole way and get facials together! Was I getting too sarcastic for my own good?

"Well we will have to take care of that. Clearly your brother is neglecting you. Tomorrow we will go to Preston Parade and have your nails done."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Right. I need to unpack and you need to practise being a lady."

She pointed her wand at an armchair in front of the mantelpiece.

"Go and sit down there."

I complied, suddenly very conscious of my limbs.

"No, no, no, no, no!" she exclaimed. "Get up! It is done this way."

I got out of the way and Madame Rougier proceeded to practically float towards the chair, sat down gracefully and crossed her ankles to one side. It all looked a bit sickening to me.

"Try again," she instructed, standing up just as gracefully.

I imitated her movements from before, wanting very much to laugh at myself. I must have looked ridiculous. I was glad Snape wasn't here to watch. But then, he wouldn't have allowed the woman to teach me how to sit anyway. He probably felt that learning the properties of rare potion ingredients was time better spent.

"Much better," said Madame Rougier, nodding. "Very well. Sit there in that position and don't move while I unpack my things. No talking."

She pointed her wand at her trunk and used magic to send the contents within it to various parts of the room. She pretended that I wasn't there at all.

This was an absurd situation to be in. I was actually practising sitting. Time well spent, I assured myself. I spent the next hour thinking about the various hexes that I would use on her if I had the chance to.

After unpacking, Madame Rougier sat down at her table and began writing a letter. So this was how she was going to play the game. I was going to have to sit like a china doll while she went about her business. Wonderful. Stupid old hag...

I sat there for an hour. A whole hour of just sitting!

Finally, she finished her letter and looked back in my direction again.

"Stand up."

I got up.

"You stood up too quickly. It looked as if you had just sat on a pin. Sit down again."

I sat.

"Sit properly, you silly child."

I crossed my ankles and moved them slightly to one side.

"That's better. Now stand up graciously."

I got up more slowly.

"That's better. Now walk to the other side of the room."

Now I was self-conscious. I walked slowly and as graciously as I could.

"Not too bad. You have some merit I see."

You twisted hag.

"Now, walk back to the chair and sit down again."

My, what a fun game this was. I sat down again (quite perfectly in my opinion).

"Very good. Your father was right. You do learn quickly."

Well, hurray for me. Maybe sarcasm would help me get through the next few days. I did so enjoy it.

"For the next ten minutes you will practise that. You sit, stand, walk to the other side of the room, turn and come back, and sit again."

Oh, really? What fun! What a joy! What an opportunity to improve my apparently questionable posture! Yes, sarcasm would help me.

"And for every time I have to criticise, I will add an extra minute to your practice."

Oh, what a bully.

And so I practised...and practised...and practised some more. I occluded so hard and squashed my emotions so well that I was perfect. I really wanted to feel some sense of triumph out of this. I wondered if I would get a certificate for being a 'good walker, sit-downerer and stand-uperer'. I hoped I would. I would put it on the wall in my bedroom for Snape to admire with pride. Yes, the sarcasm was really working for me.

"Well done, Armilla," said Madame Rougier when it was time to finish. "We will practise eating now."

She waved her wand at her table and it was suddenly set extravagantly for one, with sample bits of food on plates.

"Sit down."

I got up and did my prim oh-I'm-so-lovely walk to the chair and sat down in the chair (and bless me, crossed my ankles). I was such an angel.

Madame Rougier proceeded to explain all the pieces of cutlery and at what part of the meal they were used for. She ignored my "I already know this" statement and continued to explain anyway, as though I was some sort of barbarian who had only ever used my hands to eat. I was even shown how to hold a fork! ("It is important to remember, dear, that the fork is not a shovel.") Now, this was a woman of useful information.

We spent another hour practising eating. It was such an enlightening affair. I was educated on exactly how many chews a piece of food needed depending on its size and texture, and how to hold the napkin when wiping my mouth.

The best part was the 'dinner conversation'.

"You never talk about yourself unless you are asked," Madame Rougier began. Well, that was good. I didn't normally offer information about myself to strangers anyway.

"You pay the utmost interest in anything a wizard has to say to you. Even if you don't agree with him about an issue, you are courteous and refrain from debating with him. You do not have the right to question him."

Good Lord, she was a talking version of The Role of a Pureblood Witch!

We spent another hour practising making conversation, during which Madame Rougier told me several times that I was the most boring person she had ever had the misfortune of speaking to. I agreed. Of course I was going to be boring if my conversation was limited to agreeing with everything, talking about the weather and other trivial things suited to my inferior mind.

By the time dinner came, Madame Rougier announced that I had already had enough food samples and I was not to have any dinner ("It will spoil your figure, dear"). I wasn't hungry enough to be bothered. It was time away from Father. I wouldn't tell Snape that I missed a meal. He was weird about me skipping meals.

And so, while Madame Rougier and Father ate, I was banished to the library to do some more senseless memorising of Father's ridiculous books.

By the time I had passed all my tests and was finally sent to bed by my governess (I didn't see my father at all), I was absolutely exhausted.

I took a longer shower than necessary - It was strange how the atmosphere in this house seemed putrid to me and I was intent of washing it off me.

Before bed, I quickly wrote a few lines to Snape for Morag to send, so it looked like we were communicating.

Upon saying goodnight, Madame Rougier had told me to be quiet when I went upstairs because Father had already gone to bed. So I didn't really have to stay awake for ages. I did anyway, in case the governess came by to make sure I was asleep. And it was lucky that I did, for she did come by. She opened the door slightly and poked her head in. I pretended that I was asleep and a moment later she was gone again. Even so, I waited another half-hour before contacting my brother.

I decided to get straight to the point.

Father has a guest staying with us.

There was a long pause. Either Snape hadn't noticed the message straightaway or had been taken by surprise. A few seconds later though, I had a reply.

What an impartial statement. Are you going to enlighten me or will I have to guess?

I don't think you would be able to guess.

Such undying faith you have in me.

Would you have guessed that Father would employ a governess for me?

A governess?

Apparently I need to become a 'perfect product' by the twenty-ninth.

A 'perfect product'? It sounds as though he's investing in a piece of merchandise. Who is it?

A French woman named Zita Rougier. She's awful.

I wouldn't expect Father to hire anyone pleasant, Armilla.

She's amiable in Father's presence, but completely turns when we're alone. Father told her about you, so she doesn't waste time telling me about how I'm badly influenced.

I'm responsible for you not being a perfect product? I shall have to go to confession...

She said you were neglecting me because my nails weren't up to her standards.

What is wrong with your nails?

They're not as sophisticated as hers.

That's not neglect. I apologise for never having considered your nails before, but I was confident you could look after your own nails.

I can. That's just what she said though.

How insightful of her. She sounds like an affable woman. I do promise to take an interest in your nails if they ever resemble Rita Skeeter's, because I will personally aid you in removing them.

What about make up?

What about it?

I was admonished for not wearing any.

That is ridiculous. You do not need to wear any.

She thinks I'm meant to put it on every morning and I can't leave my room without it. She has a fixation with beauty routines.

Oh help me. I'm not concerned about my influence, but I'm not so fussed about the influence of this woman.

She's prissy. I don't want to be prissy.

You're not prissy. You have no chance of ever being prissy because I wouldn't allow that either. You'd sooner be scrubbing cauldrons than be called prissy by me. So what did you do with her today?

Well first she told me that I wasn't a lady...

You're not a lady? I fear I've been bamboozled...

...So I had to practise sitting like a lady for a whole hour. I did nothing but sit.

What a productive hour that must have been for you.

It was. I spent the hour thinking about hexes and the best ways to apply them.

Very good. I would have done the same. What ridiculous task did you engage in next?

Standing like a lady...walking like a lady...then sitting down like a lady once more.

Am I supposed to notice a great difference in you when I next see you?

No...I'm faking it for now...unless you want me to adopt a prudish side...

No, not particularly. That would warrant another tedious lecture.

Then we practised eating the right way and how to engage in conversation.

Was that useful?

No. Madame Rougier is like a live version of the model pureblood witch from the book I had to read yesterday. She told me that my role is to agree with every wizard and remind myself that I do not possess brain power as great as theirs.

You have no idea how much I want to come and get you from there right now...and how much I want to...express my opinion...to that damn woman.

I'm not allowed to express my opinion because I'm too inferior. Father gave Madame Rougier permission to do whatever she liked.

I bet he did. Has she done anything?

No. She seems to think that it is not lady-like to hex others. If she's not pleased I have to practise sitting instead.

I see. I take it that Father shares the same opinion - you wouldn't have duelled with him then?

No. I don't see much of him at all. When I do, he likes me to practise being silent.

You don't need practice at that. You're too good at it for my liking.

Did you always have to duel with him?

We did duel a great deal. He always liked to win, so it was always a losing situation. If I did triumph, he'd get angry. If I lost, I wasn't trying hard enough. The man's a fool.

Are you back at Hogwarts?

For now. I can't stay away too long while there are Slytherin students here.

I wish I was there too.

I know you do. You will be here before long. There's five sleeps, Armilla. I'm sure you have another day of ridiculous tasks awaiting you tomorrow, so I think it's time you went to sleep.

I have to go and get my nails done with Madame Rougier in Preston Parade tomorrow.

Oh how exhilarating for you. I don't approve of you leaving the castle with that woman. I trust Father is not going?

No.

I don't approve of this at all, leave it with me...Go to bed now. I will talk to you tomorrow night.

Alright. Goodnight.

Goodnight. Do your best to restrict any priggish influence tomorrow.

I already am. I'm practising being the perfect product. I might just make it, you know.

Indeed...I have no doubt.