Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Vanilla-Scented Smoke

Chapter Seven: A Different Kind of Reality

In which Eden<> is giggly and ladylike, Spot licks someone's face, a mattress gets angry, Snape is discouraged, Orlando Bloom is hot, and Remus has a dream. One where he gets wet.

Rose checked her lipstick in the mirror.

"You're gorgeous, honey," it told her. "Knock 'em dead."

Rose patted her Diricawl, Puck, on the head before she Apparated to Times Square and arrived in the expensive restaurant they had picked out. It was very popular as a romantic spot, despite being named Le Candlelit Chat. ¹

The young woman felt so fabulous stepping inside that she levitated a few inches off the floor without even trying.

She smiled brightly when she saw Parker.

---

A helmeted head poked in through the edge of Eden's frame.

"Are you Sir Cadogan?" she asked expectantly.

"At your service," he affirmed, kneeling down to kiss her hand.

Eden giggled.

---

Lupin was left in a room by himself. He felt like a prisoner in what was meant to be a cheerful building, and hoped Severus wouldn't need a third distraction.

He glanced around for any wards or charms whose effects may have been visible; there were none that he could see. By some oversight, he still had his wand, although he knew it might not be a good idea to use it. The door was locked from the outside, but the window wasn't. It opened easily after a bit of belligerent creaking, and Lupin found, much to his disappointment, that he was on the second floor. It would be quite a drop to the ground.

He wasn't tied to anything, at least, and he couldn't see any surveillance devices, although, he reasoned, they wouldn't be very effective if he knew they were there.

Right, then,Lupin thought, mentally rolling up his sleeves. It's time to escape.

He looked outside; the wall was made of brick and the alley below was empty but for a few trash cans and a snapped Cleansweep.

After a long day of getting shuttled around from psych ward to drudged memory to coddling medi-witch, Lupin's patience was almost out, and he didn't particularly feel like being subtle. He opened the window as far as it would go and with great effort, tugged the mattress off his bed. It began complaining immediately; Lupin was worried its cries of "I belong on the bed! Put me back, Mister!" and "Oww, I'm made of high-quality cotton and am not to be used on a rough floor or without proper sheets..." would alert someone that he was doing something he shouldn't have been, but he managed to get it to the window, fold it in half as best he could, and stuff it through. Every few seconds, it would churlishly attempt to flatten itself out, so it took Lupin a number of tries before he figured out that if the eyes and mouth went through first, the mattress would be less able to react.

The mass of feathers and springs bounced when it hit the ground and immediately began to complain again. "You can't treat bedding like that," it growled up at him. "I think you dislocated my left side, I know I heard a spring break..."

Lupin tuned him out and stuck one leg out the window. Spot, forever friendly, nipped at his foot and made a cute noise Lupin couldn't quite classify. "Sorry, but you can't come, little guy," he whispered sadly as he pushed off.

Remus didn't land as he had hoped to. He bounced on the mattress (which he could have sworn had shimmied away at the last moment) and sprawled on the ground. "Hah," it said gruffly. "Serves you right." It blew a raspberry into the air for good measure, but Lupin didn't notice it, however, because he'd been knocked unconscious.

---

Remus dreamt that he was falling through the air, past flickering fires and bright lights, past black flashes and gaping pits. Sirius reached out a hand to grab him, but missed. He peered down the tunnel, reaching further and further but always just missing. Remus reached up as he fell, wishing halfheartedly to be caught. The other half of him kicked his legs, trying to drive himself down faster. He wanted to know what was at the bottom of the pit, or whether it had a bottom at all. Just when he thought he would never stop falling, he hit a wide lake with a splash. The water engulfed him, but he didn't care. He was paddling for all he was worth, pulling himself down deeper into its inky pits. He couldn't breathe, but he didn't want to; the stars exploding in his vision looked pretty and the iron claw on his lungs tingled pleasantly.

He hit the bottom. It was soft stone; it was hard when he beat it but it gave voluntarily when he dove into it.

Suddenly there were hands around his waist, pulling him back up. That was who he was looking for, he must have swum past. He couldn't breathe, he needed--

--Severus crushed their lips together, breathing into him, pounding on his chest so the air could get through. That was what he needed, yes; he sucked in again and again, marveling at the miracle that had found him underwater.

Before he knew it Severus was kicking up, propelling them to the sky. "You're too good to be a werewolf," he snarled into Remus's ear just before they broke the surface. Remus turned to answer but before he could, a wave lapped over his face. He blinked his eyes furiously, coughing and sputtering, and awoke to Spot licking his face and standing on an uncomfortable spot on his neck. He lay staring up at the midnight blue sky for a moment before he sat up, brushed himself off, and rubbed at the place on his back where he had fallen. Spot bit at his sleeve.

"What was that, kid?"

Remus squirmed uncomfortably and glared at the mattress.

"Don't tell me a fever dream is making you nervous."

"It's not," he said quickly. Had he said anything incriminating?

"Right. I don't believe that for a second."

Lupin turned away.

"'Sides, I bet it was nothing compared to Lockhart's dreams."

"Oh, really?" Remus asked dryly.

"Sure, he tells them to anyone and everyone who'll listen."

"That's nice, but we really have to go."

"Sure you don't want to hear about the nipple clamps and the rubber duckies?"

Lupin started. "Quite." He stood and turned to Spot. "Come on, we're leaving," he said.

"Not so fast," the mattress interrupted. "This is a regulation Ministry mattress. I could have you arrested--"

"That'd be a blessing, compared to what I'm facing now," Lupin said, picking up the kneazle.

"You won't be so brave when you're on trial for direct disobeyment of--"

Lupin kicked it once and shot Spot a knowing look as they Apparated away.

"And good riddance," the mattress muttered after him.

---

Eden was painting her nails when Snape left.

"Good job," she smirked. "You managed to go three minutes without alerting security that you were breaking and entering."

Snape scowled. "It must get boring, being a picture and having no social life to speak of. You meet people, what, three times a week?"

"Not since you set me up with Sir Cadogan, thanks very much."

"And what does he do, parade around on his pony for hours on end with his sword in the air and recite Shakespearian sonnets because he thinks you can't tell?"

"And besides," she went on loudly, ignoring him, "I'll have you know a whole horde of people came in here just yesterday."

"How exciting," Snape said sarcastically.

"It was," Eden insisted. She blew on her nails. "A bunch of big guys from the Ministry. It could have been important"

"The Ministry?"

Eden pursed her lips.

"What were they doing?" Snape asked apprehensively.

"Checking records, what else would they be doing? I think they were looking for werewolves." She started in on her right hand and promptly spilled the nail polish all over the carpeted stairs. "Shit!" she exclaimed, jumping up and managing to knock over her wine glass of Pepsi at the same time. "Oh, Jeeves is going to skin me!"

"Yesterday?"

"What?" She looked at Snape, having forgotten he was there. "Oh. Yeah, yesterday."

Snape slumped, backing up to the wall and collapsing as he sat down. Their new and improved escape plan was cut off. It was as if they were in a prison chamber and had been sneaking along, looking for an escape, only to have door after door slam shut just before they could get through, startling them and sending them scurrying. This new plan had been terminated with the scrape of an ever-tightening noose that chilled him to the bone and blocked out the sunlight he and Remus had almost reached. First Italy had wound up in the gutter, and now this. It was back to square one for the third time, and it wasn't just a game. Remus's life was on the line, goddamit. What were they going to do? Snape felt as if he and Lupin were trying to walk in circles and farther into a trap.

"What are you so upset about?" Eden asked.

Snape didn't answer.

"Hello? Mister?"

He sighed. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay."

They were silent for a moment. Then Eden had jumped up and was reaching for another piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. She loomed up to the front of the picture, as far as she could go, and asked, "Lemme guess. Girl trouble?"

Snape shook his head sadly.

"Come on, you can tell me about it," she coaxed. "I owe you a favor now, I promise I won't tell."

"My best friend is only condemned, that's all," said Snape bitterly.

Eden looked at him sympathetically and blew a bubble. "Maybe he should, you know, make himself scarce."

"Tried that," said Snape dejectedly. "Didn't work."

"He can't just stay locked up inside?"

"Absolutely not. Nobody wants to be a prisoner. That's the last thing I'd choose for him."

"Oh," Eden said, and a hint of the ladylike grace and compassion she had been bred into and painted with floated to the surface. With a newly composed and calm face, her robes seemed to fall back into the right places and her curly black hair rippled along her back in a courtly manner that seemed to transform her completely. "I'm very sorry." It was the most sincere thing, and the most serious, she had said all day. "Is there anything I can do?"

Snape stood to leave. "I suppose there isn't."

Eden nodded sadly. Then she blew a bubble and the illusion shattered. "Sure you don't want some gum?" she asked earnestly.

"Quite sure," said Snape, walking away and cold again.

"Positive? I've got the Muggle kind, too."

Snape didn't answer; he retreated down the corridor towards the waiting room.

"It's got Orlando Bloom on the wrapper!" she called loudly as he retreated further and further away.

Snape continued to ignore her.

"Orlando Bloom is hot," she said to herself conversationally as the door slammed at the end of the hall.

---

Le Candlelit Chat packed, as usual, but enveloped in an unobtrusive silence. A house elf in the corner muttering quietly as he cleared a table, the clang of silver spoons in the kitchen, and the blaring car horns and loud voices outside were all shut out from the light glow of tea lights and floating candles, hot food and warm hearts. Inside their sanctuary, everything was comfortably quiet and dim. Parker put down his fork; Rose followed suit. She smiled at him sweetly. He felt she had never looked more beautiful, but then again, he thought that every day. The candlelight flickered on her raven-black hair, her bare arm with deep red shoulder ruffles, and the pale curves of her face. Parker glanced at her nervously and took a deep breath, and she looked back intently, drawn in by the shadows on his face - the deep sand-colored ones that took the shape of his lightly spiked hair - and anchored down by his flecked grey eyes.

The latest Weird Sisters recording, a slow, drawn-out refrain, played quietly in the background. Other than that, the atmosphere was calm, dark, and quiet. Enchanted candles twinkled and flickered above their heads, casing dim pools of light onto the table. It was a magical place.

Parker reached into his pocket and fingered the small, felt-covered box inside. His other hand stayed on the table; Rose reached for it and held it lightly. It was now or never, Parker told himself. Rose was tickling his palm and he let her, curling his fingers around hers. With his other hand, Parker was toying with the ring box. Rose looked up from her ministrations and met his eye, and in that moment, he gathered his nerves and grasped it.

Rose continued to look at him expectantly, black hair, brown eyes, soft smile and all. She gasped when he drew his hand out of his pocket.

---

Eddie the Evil twirled a steak knife menacingly in his hands. The young maiden, chained tightly to the wall, cried desperately. "Please! Somebody help me! Help!" She gasped as Eddie took a step closer.

"There's no one here who can save you," he growled.

The girl screamed again.

Eddie was a werewolf and terribly, terribly evil. He had no mercy for defenseless, innocent young people. "I will devour your entrails at dawn,²" he snarled at her with an evil grin.

"Not so fast, you werewolf!" said a deep voice behind him.

Eddie turned and saw Gordon the Golden poised on top of a wall, holding a rope. "I will save you from this evil half-breed, dear Scarlet," he said valiantly.

"But... how... I thought you were dead!" Eddie managed.

"I told you once, you evil, untrustworthy thing, and I'll tell you again. You can never defeat goodness!" And with that, Gordon swooped down on the rope, kicked Eddie away, and freed his one true love from the clutches of a sure, painful death.

"Nooooooo!" Eddie moaned. "Foiled again!"

"Hah!" said Gordon.

"My hero," Scarlet swooned, wrapping a beautiful milky-white hand around Gordon's neck.

Eddie the Evil watched with despair as they swung away into the sunset.

Jude stretched and clicked his tongue. It was sad, he knew. It was a pity there was so much bias against people like him, especially since all of it was unfounded. It must be worse in England he thought, to have such horrific propaganda spread about werewolves.

The grandfather clock next to the door struck six. Perfect; Jude had just finished the chapter. He shuffled some papers on his desk, tucked them into his briefcase, and went downstairs, eager to finally get home.