Chapter VII: The Minister's Daughter
(Claire P.O.V)
"Claire! Claire! Ms. Belmont, over here! Look over here please!" She heard as she walked towards the black velvet curtain that was to act as her Portkey back to her hotel in Muggle New York. She cursed silently, continuing to wave as her jaw began to grow sore from smiling at the constant shuttering of cameras.
"We love you, Claire!" A group of girls dressed to the nines in material from her last runway screamed in admiration as she passed by, while all she wanted was to roll her eyes, she kept up her fake cheerful demeanor as she blew a kiss back at the girls who began fanning themselves from excitement.
"je t'aime aussi!" Claire returned though dishonesty laced every word, she didn't even know the girls' names, let alone have any affection for them. It's all about appearances, she reminded herself, thinking of Jacques, her agent and the closet thing she had to a brother, Just keep smiling, it'll be over soon.
Through the moments in which her eyes weren't blinded by the flashing camera light, she watched as a group of young wizards stood there drooling like a pack of dogs. She had always tried not to let it get to her, it was the standard reaction for men who came too close to her. After all, a Veela's allure was a dangerous thing, even if she was only a halfling, and though she knew better, it didn't stop the action itself from being irritating. She sighed to herself as she watched the boys tackle each other, desperately trying to get past the warded security bar that prevented their approach, Men, she thought to herself in disgust as she walked past hearing them heckle and beg for her attention, "Claire, look over here!" A boy shouted attempting to flaunt his muscular arms for her attention before another called out, "I'd do anything for you!"
"Anything?" Claire spoke with a sultry grin that hid her disgusted demeanor, "Do you mean that?"
"Yes! God Yes! Just ask for it, anything at all and I'll do it," The boy completely lost in his trance spoke.
"That's a very nice watch," Claire spoke gently placing her dainty hand on the boy's chiseled arm, "Is that gold?"
"Yes," The boy said in a hyper tone, his body trembling at her touch, "It was my father's, he gave it to me-"
"I want it," Claire spoke, her experiment now in progress as she forced down her allure, "Give it to me, maybe I'll even do a little something for you to show my gratitude."
"Here," The boy said ripping the watch off his wrist, his voice trembling in excitement, "Take it, it's yours."
Claire smiled as the boy gently lobbed the watch into her tiny hand, before shuddering inside with disappointment as the boy looked at her eagerly for a reward. Even without the allure, boys would fall all over her, doing whatever she pleased, and she hated it. Any man that couldn't think for themselves was not a man she could respect and with a glare hidden in her perfect smile, she allowed her allure to flourish once more. The boy collapsed in a puddle of his own drool from the proximity before she tossed the boy his watch back in disgust. She sighed heavily as she marched out of the view of the paparazzi and warped away with the touch of the Portkey from the Witches Weekly Summer Photoshoot at Swinburne Island and back to her reserved hotel suite at the St. Regis.
Claire groaned loudly as she fell into her bed. Her jaw was sore, her feet were in pain from the horribly uncomfortable shoes, and her feelings of self-worth were completely crushed as she had just spent nearly four hours as a prop for fashion designers. Exhausted, she face-planted onto the perfectly fluffed hotel pillow, smearing her pounds of makeup on the sheets as she groaned loudly. "Tough shoot?" She heard a male voice call out forcing her to quickly jump to her feet in shock.
"Merde!" Claire shouted before feeling herself calm down as she stared at the man before her. He was of average height with a heavily toned body, deeply tanned skin, hazel eyes, and a long rusty-blonde mane, "Christ Jacques, don't scare me like that!"
"Apologies mademoiselle," Jacques spoke with a gentle bow, "I suppose I should have knocked before entering."
"You don't have to bow," Claire spoke with a smile, "We've known each other for- how long has it been now, four years? You don't have to act so politely in private."
"Yes," Jacques spoke with a fond smile, "I suppose you're right. I remember when you were a tiny little thing only ten years old going to your first child runway back in France, how much things have changed for you, it's almost too jarring to believe."
"How much things have changed for the both of us, you mean," Claire responded with a genuine smile, the first of her long day, as she tried to recall the eighteen-year-old boy Jacques once was instead of the twenty-two-year-old man he currently was, "You've come along way from my father hiring you to be my agent just because you were resistant to my allure too. Do you remember your face when you brought Tomas to the house? You were so nervous I thought your head was going to blow.
Claire watched as Jacques smiled slightly, remembering his beau. Claire had remembered fondly the day that Jacques had brought Tomas to the house, she remembered the shocked look that had adorned his face when her father and stepmother had accepted him without a second thought and how enthusiastically they wanted to meet the boyfriend of the man they had grown so close to over the years. "How is Tomas doing, by the way? I haven't seen him since our trip to Hawaii last year." Claire asked softly.
"He's good, living the life of an Auror though, so God knows I don't sleep well at night," Jacques laughed, though Claire could tell there was some genuine concern behind the smile. However, like always, Jacques was far too kind to her and with a tender glance he spoke, "You look like you had a rough shoot though, I'm guessing more trouble with some fans?"
"Fanatics would be more accurate," Claire sighed before she felt Jacques hand resting on her shoulder as he sat beside her on the plush mattress.
"Come on, let's go," Jacques spoke softly, and Claire looked at him with confusion before he instantly answered her question, "I've done some asking around and apparently there is a place called Serendipity 3 not too far from here. Word has it that they make the best Hot Chocolate in all of New York there." Instantly Claire shot up at the mention of her favorite drink and with a smile, Jacques spoke in a teasing tone, "I thought that'd interest you, come on now, get yourself all dolled up, we still have to walk, can't just be apparating up and down the streets of New York now, can we?"
It hadn't taken any more than the motivation of liquidy-chocolate goodness to get her out of bed, and a half-hour later, she had felt a lot better as they walked the busy streets of the Big Apple, drink in hand. The cool summer breeze blew through her charmed vibrant pink hair, as she brushed one of her Dutch fish-tail braids behind her shoulder. She smiled as felt the warm presence of the hot chocolate in her to-go cup while her grey eyes danced feverishly in her sockets trying to take in the sights of the New York shopping districts. She looked up at Jacques who smiled down at her as he spoke, "Well, not a bad way to close out the summer, is it?"
"Don't remind me," Claire spoke with a groan, "I can't believe my father is making me go to Hogwarts this year. I mean, I get that the Triwizard Tournament is happening this year, but I'm not even old enough to compete. It's honestly such a pain. I wish I could just stay at Beauxbatons like normal."
"You know that you going serves a very important purpose," Jacques said as kindly as he could, "England is our closest ally and the French Minister, your father, thinks that sending you there to be in attendance of the event is a good way to show French support, especially with the bad taste many of the English have in their mouths of us from taking so long to join the first war on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"I know, I know," Claire said in a grumble, "I just hate feeling like I'm being used as a prop."
"Coming from the person who chose to work as a model," Jacques said with a light-hearted grin.
"That's different, you know why I-," Claire started before she stumbled for words and sighed, "Whatever, at least Fleur will be there too. Hopefully, it won't be all bad."
Jacques shook his head, maintaining a positive attitude was something he had always tried to preach to her. There's no use being so negative about everything, it only makes doing what you have to do worse, he would always tell her, but Claire had always thought it was easier said than done. Being positive was hard when from as far back as she could remember her whole life was nothing more than runways, responsibilities, and days she would like to forget. Yet, despite the downtrodden thoughts that raced through her head, for the briefest of moments, she felt a smile crack on her face as she and Jacques found themselves before a rather large Bridal Salon.
Claire wasn't sure why she had so much of an affection for the ideas of wedding gowns and ceremonies of love. She suspected that part of it came from a desire to have something she never could. She'd sworn off love years ago. Her mother had served as a perfect motive for her resolve. She refused to allow herself to believe the lie that anyone who would actually fall for who she was rather than what she looked like. She knew the stats, courting a Veela rarely ever ended in a positive manner, one way or another, someone was bound to get used.
However, despite her cynical view, no matter how hard she wanted to crush it, a small sliver of hope still persisted that she would meet her mate. Many Veelas claim that each Veela has a match somewhere in the world, a partner who will be resistant to their allure even when at full blast, a person who would be able to see past their physical features and fall for who they were at heart. She often cursed herself for allowing those thoughts to fill her mind. The idea that somewhere out there was the person she was waiting for was unrealistic at best, and she knew better than to believe in such a fairytale-like hope. Sure, she'd already met many people resistant to her charms, but all were either family, men in happy relationships who truly loved their partner, or people who simply weren't attracted to females. All of which did little to satisfy her own requirements for a partner.
Still, she couldn't stop herself from entering the salon and despite the shaking of Jacques' head, he silently followed behind. Claire grinned sadly as she walked up and down the aisles of dresses silently wondering to herself about how in another life what dress she would pick as her own. It wasn't until she heard the light sound of crying in the distance did her wandering mind stop to focus. Slowly she approached, hiding behind a rack of dresses in order to not be seen. What she saw was a man, handsome enough with eyes like the sea looking down on a girl with long curly brown hair currently dressed in a stunning white mermaid gown trying to fan the tears from her eyes with her hand. Claire would have assumed that seeing his fiancée in her gown, while odd that he would even be there, would make him smile with joy, instead, his eyes were hollow and sad.
Claire watched as the man adjusted his suit, and instantly her eyes focused on the poor conditions of the fabric, with style patterns that she knew to be tremendously old. The jacket was worn out and fit that man so poorly that all she could assume was that it had to be a hand me down. She watched as the man's fingers rubbed against his cheap stainless steel ring before he sat down beside his wife to be and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder, "I'm sorry," The girl spoke, "I shouldn't be crying, I shouldn't have even tried on the dress. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," The man whispered, his hands rubbing gently through her hair, "It's okay love. The dress may be a little pricey, but if I drop the clinic and start working at Lenox Hill instead, even with the student debt we might be able to-"
"No," The girl spoke, "Don't. You worked so hard trying to build that clinic, and I know you'd be miserable working for someone else. I-"
"I'll be happy working anywhere as long as I get to come home to you," The man spoke with a gentle smile, as he placed his hand on the woman's stomach, "And Isabella too." Claire watched as for a moment, the woman smiled as her future husband took her hand, "We'll get through this Stella, I promise, we'll find a way, with or without your parents' help."
"I love you," The woman replied simply laying her head on her fiancé's shoulder.
"I love you," He responded with a smile brighter than any Claire had ever seen from anyone before.
Quickly, Claire brushed the tears from her eyes as she walked away from the scene, her eyes only focused on the register as her heart pounded in her ears. Love, she thought to herself, the willingness to sacrifice anything of yourself to make the other person happy without a second thought, without hope for a reward. It was a feeling that Claire wished she could experience for herself one day, but seeing an example of it up close had lit a fire in her chest as she found one of the employees of the salon, "Hello miss," The man said with a smile, "Are you looking for our selection of bridesmaid gowns. If so-"
"I want to buy that woman's dress, Stella I believe is her name," She spoke firmly cutting off the man whose eyes widened in surprise from seeing a girl of fourteen make such an expensive claim, "How much is it?"
"It's a very kind gesture little girl, but I don't think your allowance money is going to be able to cover that," The man spoke in a startled and condescending tone, "If you are referring to mermaid gown we brought her to try on, I believe it's nearly fifteen-hundred-dollars."
"I see," Claire spoke, "And do you sell suits here as well?"
"We do," The man spoke taken aback by the question, "Next door is our men's wear em-"
"I'd also like to purchase a suit for Stella's fiancé as well. A nice one please, custom-tailored and everything." Claire returned with the same firmness of before, "How much would all of that cost?"
"Young Lady, that would be around two-thousand dollars, I don't think-," The man said now completely lost.
"Do you take checks here?" Claire spoke, thankful that she had researched the non-magique method of currency and banking shortly after her modeling career took off.
"Yes, I mean, of course we do, but how do you-" The man attempted to speak before Claire cut him off once more turning to Jacques.
"Please cut a check for two-thousand five-hundred dollars for this man from my account," Claire spoke firmly, Jacques simply smiled as he shrugged, opening the muggle checkbook linked to her account at Gringotts before stunning the employee by asking for the required information and signing all the needed legal documents in her stead. As the employee took the check into his shaky hand, Claire smiled, "Tell her to accessorize a bit if she would like to, and wish her the best of luck in her marriage for me."
"Wait, miss," The man called as she and Jacques began walking back towards the bustling streets of the New York nightlife, "What's your name in case they want to thank-"
"Nobody," She responded, "Tell her it was nobody," before with a happy smile, she left the bridal salon behind as they entered the crowded streets, her hand grabbing on tightly to Jacques' wrist as they wiggled their way through the crowd.
"For someone who doesn't believe in love," Jacques said with a smile, "That was an awfully nice thing you did."
"I do believe in love," Claire said with a sad smile, "Just not for me."
"You're only fourteen Claire," Jacques spoke kindly as they entered a secluded alleyway, "You'll find him one day. You just have to be patient."
Claire simply shook her head in disagreement before she forced her focus back to the scene she had just witnessed. A warm feeling filled her chest, before with a small smile, Jacques took her hand, and with one last glance for non-magiques, they apparated.
(? P.O.V)
"Master!" The raven-haired witch spoke lovingly as she kneeled at his feet, "I knew you'd return, we, your most loyal, we always knew you'd return. You've come to rescue us from this infernal place, just as I always knew you would. Thank you, Master! Thank You!"
"Quiet now, Bella," The cloaked figure spoke, "There is much to do before I can truly return to my power. Tell me, who among my most faithful are waiting here for their salvation?" He watched as his servant shivered from ecstasy at his touch before he whispered, "Tell me Bella, who else of my most loyal were left to rot in this hell?"
"Dolohov, Rookwood, Rabastan, and my worthless husband are all locked away in some level of this hell," Bellatrix spoke fanatically as a smile rose to her face, "Are we to free them and kill anyone who stands in our way?"
"No, Bella," The man said in a soft and raspy tone, "My strength is confined while I'm trapped in this host, and I would not like to announce my return quite yet." The man waved the wand of his borrowed body and watched as the woman beamed in awe at the conjured doppelganger that her master had created. It sat motionless in the corner in a decrepit state as the man continued to wave his wand, creating visual illusions to make it appear as if the cell had never been touched. Satisfied with his work, he once more turned to his servant and hissed, "You spoke of those trapped here, and yet, you didn't name Crouch. Did he die?"
"No," Bellatrix said with a twisted grin, "He escaped. With the help of his father, Crouch escaped, but I saw him being placed under the Imperious." He watched as Bella dropped her head low, kissing his feet, "Are we going to retrieve him, my lord?"
"We will, Bella," The man said ordering her to her feet before turning to his Imperioused Auror. The man was drenched in the blood of his former Auror companions from his orders to eliminate his co-workers. The man smiled at his handiwork, the ministry would think nothing further than the man simply being a maniac, a man who snapped from working in Azkaban, and when the illusions cast eventually faded, he would be blamed for the inmate escapes. The man knew that the ministry would sooner die before they admitted his return, all he had to do was play it safe.
As he left the cell, he turned to his Imperioused Thrall as he hissed, "Guide me to my most loyal, and I shall release them from their chains. Then show me where those imprisoned for the most heinous crimes reside, I see a perfect opportunity to bolster my forces while I'm here." With a nod, the Imperioused man began to walk, and once more he turned to his loyal servant, "Once we are finished here, take a wand Bella, we'll be paying the Crouch Family a visit."
(Sirius P.O.V)
Sirius rubbed his temples as he sat at the head of the dining table. The trip to Platform 9 ¾ had gone off well enough, but Sirius' mind was clouded with thoughts regarding the World Cup attack. Dumbledore had certainly voiced his complaints with the lethality of his, Remus', and Emmeline's spells, but that wasn't nearly as problematic as the information Astoria Greengrass had given to him.
Narcissa Malfoy, his cousin, had given her a warning. His mind pounded vigorously at the information, he had too many questions to count. Why had she done it? What did she have to gain? For what reason did she betray her husband's cause? And the most important one, could she be trusted? He turned to his right and watched as Remus rubbed his wrinkled forehead in concentration, while on his left, Emmeline had tried her best to give him a supportive smile. Leading had never been something Sirius considered himself good at, he wasn't a natural at it like James or Harry, but as he felt all the eyes in the room falling to him, he knew he had to say something. With a heavy sigh he spoke, "As we all know, Astoria informed us that prior to the attack on the World Cup, Narcissa Malfoy gave her a warning to vacate the World Cup arena for her own safety. This leads us to the question of what we plan to do with this information? Do we wish to assume that this was a one-time act of kindness between pureblood witches, or are we to assume there is potential for Narcissa to be of use to our cause?"
The table fell quiet as Sirius scanned the table waiting for opinions, but even the normally talkative Tonks seemed to be in a struggle for what to say. However, moments later, a voice cut through the silence, "I want to meet with her," Andromeda spoke in a shaky tone, "I need to see her."
"Dromeda," Ted spoke softly, "I know you want to believe the best of your sister, but we shouldn't act so recklessly. She may not even be a person you recognize anymore."
"I know that," Andromeda spoke painfully, "I know that it's been so long since I've seen her, I know that she hasn't written to me in years, and I know that there's a chance that I might still be dead to her. But if there's even a chance that she could join our side, I can't let it pass me by." Andromeda took a quiet breath as she clenched her fist tightly, "I already couldn't save Bella, I need to try and save Cissa, I can't do nothing again."
"It's dangerous Andy," Sirius spoke softly, "I get where you're coming from, really, I do. But to put you in direct correspondence with a Malfoy puts the Order at risk. We need to know if she's trustworthy, something that I personally find hard to believe. Not to mention we don't know her motivations behind alerting Astoria in the first place."
"She's a Black first," Andromeda spoke clenching her chest, "We owe her at least a chance to change." Sirius stared at her, his grey eyes soaking in the distress on his cousins face, "She had to know of Astoria's association with Harry. Hell, her sister is dating the Death Eater's least favorite person. She's not dumb, there's no way that she wouldn't think that Astoria wouldn't alert Harry if given the chance. She knew that by passing on that information it could foil the Death Eater's plans, yet she did it anyway. I'm not saying she's a perfect person, she's made plenty of terrible mistakes, but if that act of kindness was genuine, then we should at least give her a chance to talk."
"Andy," Sirius spoke, "What if she's playing us? We can't be too careful, especially not with her husband lurking around their house. It's not wise to-"
"What if it was Regulus?" Andromeda snapped, "What if it was your brother, and you saw that there was a chance he was changing? Wouldn't you do everything you could to save him?" Sirius flinched at her words as Andromeda continued, "I'm not asking for you to bring her here, I'm not asking for permission to divulge to her all our secrets. I just want to make sure she's safe. Malfoy or not, she's my baby sister, I can't just turn my back on her, not when she may need me more than ever."
Sirius eyed the table, each member had their head down in contemplation as Sirius racked his brain with options. Finally, he sighed as he spoke, "We'll send Kreacher. She'll recognize him and know the message is from the House of Black. We'll give her a portkey set to the Black summer home in the Lake District. The wards are ancient and won't allow anyone not from the House of Black in. That means that while it will keep her husband out, it means that only you and I will be able to enter. We'll wait there and hear what she has to say before we make our final decision. That's the best I can do, I'm sorry Andy, but I won't jeopardize anyone at this table to give out second chances to those who followed Him in the first war. I'm not Dumbledore."
"I understand," Andromeda said with a nod, "Thank you for at least giving her a chance to talk."
Sirius nodded and while the conversation had shifted to ongoing events in the Ministry, such as the Tri-Wizard tournament which they had all agreed to keep a secret for the kid's enjoyment and surprise, to any information regarding follow up attacks by the Death Eaters, Sirius couldn't allow his mind to rest. All he could hear echoing through his head was Andromeda's voice, "What if it was Regulus?" Sirius sighed to himself, God how badly I wish it was.
Day fell to night and Sirius found himself resting on the couch of his Master Bedroom, his head resting between his hands as the information of the meeting filled his mind. Am I making the right call? Sirius thought to himself, Does she deserve a chance? Her husband was one of them, is it possible to forgive her? Is she truly changing? Cissa, Sirius thought to himself with a heavy heart, What have you gotten yourself into?
"Knock, knock," He heard a familiar voice call out to him as her knuckles brushed gently against his door, "Can I come in?"
Sirius smiled slightly as he walked towards the door, before swinging it open. Instantly he found a pair of encapsulating violet eyes peering into his grey orbs, and with a slight shudder, he stepped aside, letting Emmeline into his room. He felt a jolt of electricity course through his body as she took his hand, guiding him towards the couch. They sat beside each other in silence, before quietly Emmeline spoke while she took his nervously moving hand into hers once more, "You're doing that thing with your hair," Emmeline spoke, "Constantly brushing it and pulling at your curls, you only do that when you're stressed, I used to see it on missions all the time. Want to talk about it?"
"Did I make a mistake?" Sirius spoke in a tired voice, "Giving Andy hope like that. Should I have squashed it and told her that we weren't meeting with Narcissa no matter what?"
"What would that accomplish?" Emmeline said softly, "Talking with Narcissa is a benefit. If Andromeda is right and she is changing, then it's a pair of eyes and ears inside the home of a prominent Death Eater. If she's wrong, at least she can be at peace knowing that she's done everything she could. But you know that already, so why are you stressing over it?"
It was quiet for a moment before with a soft voice, Emmeline broke through, "It was the Regulus comment, wasn't it?" Against his will, Sirius felt tears burning in his eyes as he remembered his brother. He remembered when they were kids, how kind he was. He remembered how when they were young he'd had always been so willing to share his toys. He remembered how he and his brother would run amuck every time their father had taken them with him on business trips. How could so much have changed so quickly, Sirius thought to himself sadly as his mind shifted to their last encounter years ago, their wands at each other's throats.
"I should have saved him," Sirius spoke in a heart-wrenching voice, "I should have been there for him. I should have taken him away from our infernal home. He was good and I let my family corrupt him while I ran away with the Potters. I failed him Em, and I'll never get the chance to save him from himself, no matter how badly I wish I could."
A shiver overtook his body as he felt Emmeline's soft hand rest atop his, "Padfoot," She whispered softly, "Look at me." Sirius felt the warmth of Emmeline's hand on his cheek as she turned his eyes to face her, "You are a good man Sirius. You're brave and you're loyal, and I know you are hurting inside, but what happened to Regulus wasn't your fault."
"I was there Sirius," Emmeline spoke, and Sirius couldn't help but remember the night he had seen his brother's marked arm, "I was there with you when you last saw him. I watched you plead for Regulus to change sides. You did what you could Sirius, you have to try and let it go."
Sirius wasn't sure what came over him. He didn't know if it was emotional exhaustion, desperation for release, or the inability to fight it any longer. But as he looked at the woman that had been by his side throughout the war, the death of Pettigrew, the foundation of the New Order, and now through his heartache of his brother, he couldn't stop himself, and before he knew it, Sirius pushed forward, his lips landing on Emmeline's as the silver-haired woman's eyes widened in shock before like his, closing in relief.
Sirius felt Emmeline push back against his lips with resolve of her own, and without a thought, he shifted, wrapping his hands beneath her legs as he lifted the two of them off the couch towards the bed. Sirius' hands rested firmly on her wrists, pinning Emmeline to the bed as he looked down upon his long-time partner and companion. His lips tingled from the sensation of their unity, and with a lost look in his eyes he whispered, "What are we doing?"
"Something we should have done years ago," Emmeline responded before without a word, she wiggled free of his grasp and slipped her arms behind Sirius' neck. Once more, Emmeline brought his lips back down to hers and a soft groan of pleasure escaped his mouth as his hands reached down towards the waistline of her skirt. Sirius hadn't remembered the last time he had felt this level of comfort, but at the moment, he didn't want to think much about it. And as he felt Emmeline tug desperately on his shirt, he smiled and allowed his mind to go blank.