Assassins and Lovers

"You were right," Sirius Black told Hermione, sitting down at her table in the corner of the Three Broomsticks. It was Saturday, and most of the professors were pretending to relax.

"Of course I was," she said. "About what?"

"Fleur Delacour." He held up his hand. DEAD.

"You should have trusted me."

"I know that now. Gillywater," he told the waiter.

"I told you so. She was asking about you. I didn't think she wanted to ask you out or anything. No, she knew we're friends, so she thought I might know something about your habits. Her deceptions are quite ineffective on other women."

"She knew that we're friends?"

"Of course," Hermione said in her usual bossy tone. "It's rather obvious, don't you think? She's seen us eating together, knows we knew each other before we came to Hogwarts, and saw us talking yesterday afternoon. Clear indications."

"So we are, then," he said, "friends."

"Yes," Hermione looked puzzled. "Did I miss something? Was there any uncertainty?"

"I wasn't sure."

Hermione laughed. "You're crazy."

"I am."

"So how did she get you?"

"I kissed her."

"How stupid."

"She made me. I saw her in the hall, she started fluttering her hair around and smiling at me. I couldn't help it."

"Of course you could have. I told you yesterday to watch out for her. I should think you certainly had the power to overcome her attractions. Really, you knew she was part veela. You should have resisted."

"Maybe I didn't want to," he wondered aloud.

"I thought you wanted to win the game. Beat Sevvy. All that good stuff."

"I hadn't kissed a woman in years. It was wonderful," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "And then I woke up on the floor a minute later with this written on my hand. But I think it was worth it."

"You men, you're a bunch of idiots. All of you." She shook her head. "How could it be 'worth it'? Obviously, it meant nothing to her. It appears that it meant little to you. You aren't in love with this woman. You aren't even interested in her, are you? Wow, Sirius," she said, smiling, "I used to think you were really smart. I guess you're as much of a blockhead as any man."

"I'm kidding. Of course it wasn't worth it, now that I think about it. No, I could never be with a woman like that. I don't see how anyone could. You can't trust her. But as far as my being eliminated from the game goes, I'm not too upset. It was a little too stressful for someone my age."

"Please. Dumbledore's more than three times your age, and he's having a blast. Admit it, you wanted to win, and now you're talking yourself out of it."

Sirius covered his face, but she could tell that he was laughing. "You see right through me."

"I'm glad you're here. You can protect me if anyone comes along to assassinate me."

"In this crowd? Besides, I'm sure you're perfectly capable of defending yourself."

"I am. But it's always nice to have support."

"Well, then, you've got it."

Hermione flashed him a lovely smile. "Thank you."

-----

Rachel's classroom was nearly perfect now. She'd painted the walls with moving murals of ballet dancers, musicians, and actors, raised the ceiling to a height of 23 feet, and added some decorative beams. The floor was stripped down to bare concrete and then splattered all over with Jackson Pollock-esque random drippings of paint, which, upon close examination, were continuously resplattering themselves. Along the left wall, she'd created the illusion of three arched windows, framed with white satin protected by an anti-stain charm. Each looked out upon a different landscape: the first, ancient Rome; the second, modern muggle New York, as seen from the top of the Empire State Building; and the third, a mountain landscape that looked suspiciously like something from Tolkien's Middle Earth.

All that remained was the floating mobile that would set off the plain white ceiling. She picked up the first of the five abstractly-shaped pieces. "Wingardium Leviosa!" After she'd levitated it to the proper height, she charmed it in place and set it in motion, "Mobilus Rotunda." She heard a knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

"Bill Weasley."

Rachel seriously wished that her pinned up hair was fixed and that her robes weren't covered with stains from the briefly out-of-control splattering charm.

"Are you here to kill me?"

"Certainly not. I just wanted to talk."

"I suppose I can trust you." She lifted the lock on the door. "Come in."

Bill walked in and looked around. "This is gorgeous, Rachel. Oh," he said, looking at the mobile pieces lying on the floor, "did I interrupt you?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'll get back to it later," she smiled.

"But," he hesitated, "if you don't mind, I'd really like to watch you."

"Okay." One by one, she levitated each piece and set it into a carefully calculated revolution around the ceiling. When all five pieces were in place, they interacted with each other like a simple, pleasing kaleidoscope.

Bill was silent for a few moments. "It's beautiful. I've never seen that done before."

"A few levitations?"

"Not that, of course I've seen that. I meant the creation of art--every detail so planned and adjusted perfectly. It's wonderful. You are," he said, "really amazing."

Rachel blushed slightly as he met her eye. "Thank you."

"That third window! Is that the gate to Moria?"

"Yes!" she gushed. "No one else has recognized it!"

"I love J.R.R. Tolkien."

"I do, too."

"Well, I wanted to ask you--"

Rachel heard an all-too-familiar voice in the corridor outside the still-open door. "Bill! Are you zere?" A few seconds later, Fleur Delacour appeared in the doorway. "I need to talk wis you." She fluttered her hair.

Bill stared at her, his green eyes opened wide. Then he blinked and turned back to Rachel. "Would you--"

"Bill!" Fleur interrupted, her voice sugary sweet. "We have many matters to discuss."

Bill didn't respond.

Fleur entered the room and walked closer to him. "Bill," she whispered. He turned. She locked him into her gaze and ran her hand down his arm. "Come wis me." She grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door.

Rachel felt like levitating a well-sharpened pencil straight into Fleur's lovely head.

-----

Fleur stood over Bill's unconscious body. He had been far more difficult to seduce than Sirius Black, which was to be expected, she reflected, since she'd already tricked him once, a couple of years ago when they were both working at Gringotts. Then, she'd frequently used her veela powers as a sort of game. Lately, the fun had worn off. She'd enjoyed seducing the two men, but it didn't have the same appeal that it once did. She'd seen Bill Weasley cry--in anger, mostly, when he realized the game she'd been playing. But his pain never touched his heart. She'd realized that he never really cared about her. She had only deceived them both into believing it.

But still, it was fun to have such power over men, at least temporarily. If she couldn't find love, she could at least pretend for a moment with each kiss that someone really cared for her. It was hard to say which of the two was the better kisser. Bill had those wonderfully soft lips, but then, Sirius had kissed her with a passion that nearly took her breath away--that is, until he collapsed on the floor and she realized--though she'd known it all along--that none of it was real.

She hurried out the corridor before anyone saw her with the body, quickly turning towards the faculty lounge. She listened to make sure no one was around. It was best to avoid encountering anyone. She never knew who might be out to kill her.

Hearing nothing, she continued walking down the corridor. Then, turning the next corridor, she saw Severus Snape. It was impossible to avoid him now. She pulled out her wand.

"Put that thing up, Professor Delacour. I'm not about to kill you. I care nothing for Dumbledore's ridiculous game."

"Well, winning is important to some of us."

"I would admire your Slytherin sentiments if they weren't so ill-directed. This game is positively idiotic."

"Perhaps I have ozzer reasons for wanting to win zan ze mere glory of it all."

Snape said nothing.

"You do not ask what my ozzer reasons are? Well, it is none of your business, anyway."

"You will find, Professor Delacour, that I do not take the same social interest in my colleagues as some of the other professors. Ours is a professional relationship. I have no desire for anything more."

Fleur shook her head. "But really, none of zem do. Zey will kiss me... Zat is easy enough. But none of zem ever really love me. It is only magic."

Snape stared at her. Had she missed something in the translation? "I don't know why they allow themselves to be tricked by your exterior."

Fleur determinedly refrained from allowing the tears to spill out of her eyes. Clearly, this man could see beyond her beauty to what was inside. And he knew it was worthless. "I guess we all like to tricked."

"I refuse to fall under any illusions. Unlike Professor Black, I keep my brain turned on."

"Zat is truly admirable."

Snape looked at her for a moment longer with a vaguely hostile expression. "Thank you. Good day, Professor Delacour."