Chapter Text
The Blanche estate could not be found by anyone looking for it.
Draco explained this for the third time as he led Severus along a narrow road lined with vineyards and tall trees.
"It's not simply a matter of concealment," he said. "The estate rejects anyone who hasn't been invited. If you tried to find it on your own, you could walk all the way to the Spanish border without realising."
"An explanation that would have been useful before I spent forty minutes in that village."
"I sent detailed instructions."
"'Follow the road to the tree that appears to be watching it' is not a detailed instruction."
"You found the tree."
"They all appeared to be watching the road."
Draco did not reply. He had been seconded from the Department of International Magical Cooperation to the Hogwarts delegation to audit the Tournament's temporary permissions. According to him, this made his presence indispensable. According to Severus, it was merely another administrative imposition.
The road ended at two white stone pillars. There was no gate between them, only a faint distortion in the air. Draco removed his right glove and touched one of the pillars. Runes appeared on the stone.
"Draco Malfoy and guest," he announced.
"Visiting headmaster," Severus corrected.
"Severus Snape, visiting headmaster and man of legendary patience."
The runes glowed. The distortion parted. Beyond the barrier, the road continued through extensive gardens towards a pale, three-storey manor house. Parts of the building looked very old; others had been added over the centuries without any attempt to maintain a single style. Climbing plants covered one of the towers, and the open windows reflected the late afternoon.
Severus felt the wards as a faint resistance against his chest. The pressure eased with his next step, but left his arms prickling beneath his sleeves. They were complex, woven into the land and the members of the family. There were layers of concealment, blood recognition and something older beneath them all. Hereditary magic.
"Impressive," he admitted.
"Wait until you meet Claire," Draco replied. "She reworked some of the wards."
The front door opened before they reached the steps. A young woman with short blonde hair appeared at the top. She looked about seventeen. She was slender, wore riding breeches and carried a bird resembling a small silver falcon on her shoulder.
"You're late," she told Draco.
"Good afternoon to you too, Lory." Draco turned to Severus. "Loreen Blanche, the youngest sister."
"Angie said you'd be here an hour ago."
"Headmaster Snape had an argument with a tree."
"Did the tree lose?"
Severus gave Draco a look.
"It's still standing."
Lory smiled. A dimple appeared in her right cheek.
"I like him."
Another woman appeared behind Lory. She was taller, with wavy blonde hair and eyes so pale that, at first glance, they seemed almost colourless.
"Claire Blanche," she introduced herself, offering Severus her hand. "I imagine you've come to inspect my runes and find fault."
"Not necessarily in that order."
Claire's hand remained in his for no longer than courtesy required. Then she turned to Draco.
"Bad hair day?"
Draco instinctively ran a hand through his hair, still untidy after the walk.
"Bad face day?"
Claire smiled. After a moment, she held out her hand.
"Good afternoon, Draco."
Draco shook her hand.
"Claire."
Angelique came down the steps. She wore a light dress in the shade of blue Severus was beginning to associate with Beauxbatons. Her hair was pinned up, leaving her neck bare. The memory of her fingers near his collar returned with irritating precision.
Angelique stopped one step above her sisters. All three had the same fair hair; everything else seemed to argue against the family resemblance. Lory balanced a bird of prey on her shoulder and smiled as though she hoped something would go wrong. Claire was still studying Severus with the attention she might have given an incomplete inscription.
Angelique smiled at Draco.
"Welcome back, Draco."
"Thank you, Angie."
Angelique turned to Severus.
"Monsieur Snape."
"Mademoiselle Blanche."
"I see you survived the journey."
"Barely. Malfoy spent half of it trying to persuade me that trees constitute adequate signposts."
"Our guests usually manage to arrive without declaring war on botany."
"I presume they receive better instructions."
Lory stifled a laugh. Angelique gestured towards the stairs.
"Your rooms are in the upstairs corridor. Try not to blame France if you get lost between floors."
"I already blame France for quite enough."
"Save some for tea."
A house-elf appeared in the entrance hall and levitated their luggage towards the stairs. Draco went upstairs. Severus followed. There were four suites along the corridor. Draco pointed to the door on the left.
"I'm in here."
Then he indicated the next door.
"You're next door."
Severus looked at the door directly opposite.
"And that one?"
"Angie's."
"Are the hosts' quarters not usually separate from the guest rooms?"
"The Blanches have their own ideas about hospitality."
"Naturally."
Severus opened the door to his suite. The room was spacious, with dark furniture, a fireplace and windows overlooking the gardens.
"Benedikt will be in the room next door when he arrives tomorrow," Draco added.
Severus set his gloves on a table.
***
Tea was served by the swimming pool. Severus considered this an inappropriately informal setting for a discussion of Tournament security. His assessment had nothing whatsoever to do with Angelique having exchanged her dress for a dark swimsuit and a pale robe left open over her shoulders.
Nothing whatsoever.
She sat in the shade of a tree, wearing sunglasses and examining the documents Severus had brought. Claire occupied the chair beside her, surrounded by parchments covered in runes.
Lory was swimming. A dark-haired young woman Severus had not yet met sat at the edge of the pool with her feet in the water, arguing with Draco.
"You mustn't put the hippogriff behind the cart," she was saying.
"The cart before the hippogriff," Draco corrected.
"That makes no sense. Hippogriffs shouldn't pull carts."
"That's not the point."
"Then it's a bad proverb," the young woman insisted.
Draco ran a hand over his face.
Angelique noticed Severus's arrival and lifted her sunglasses.
"Is your room satisfactory?"
"I did not come to France to assess bedrooms."
"What a pity. I chose the mattresses myself."
The dark-haired young woman abandoned the argument and stood.
"Hye-jin Moreau," she introduced herself, offering her hand. "Chief Healer at Beauxbatons and an unauthorised presence in this family since I was ten."
"Authorised," Claire corrected without looking up from her parchments.
"Then I have emotional residency," Hye concluded. "That's harder to revoke."
"I don't doubt it."
Hye shook Severus hand and went back to Draco. She dried her feet with a flick of her wand, and the two of them took the remaining chairs at the table.
Severus took the seat opposite Angelique. A teapot awaited him.
He poured himself a cup and tasted it. He paused.
"It's weak."
"You can ask for another pot," Claire said.
"And it's Chinese tea."
"Because we're drinking tea, not reaffirming British sovereignty," Angelique explained.
Severus set his cup on its saucer.
"The French cannot be taught to make tea."
Draco took a sip and grimaced.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with him on that."
"Traitor," Hye declared.
"English," Draco corrected.
"Sometimes it's the same thing," she retorted.
Draco pushed his cup aside and opened the accommodation agreement beside his saucer.
"Does authorisation to enter this estate expire when the last guest leaves or when the Tournament ends?"
"When the last guest leaves," Claire replied.
"The wording says 'for the duration of the Tournament'. If the competition is suspended, the house might consider it still in progress."
Claire drew the document towards her. She read the clause once and reached for her quill.
"Now it expires when the last guest leaves."
"Is that why we brought him?" Hye asked. "To find bureaucratic ways of never leaving?"
"Among other international threats," Draco replied.
Lory climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself in a towel before approaching the table.
"Does he know?"
Angelique did not look up from the documents.
"Not yet."
"Know what?" Severus asked.
Lory pulled up a chair and sat down.
"I'm entering the Tournament."
The silence around the table was brief but noticeable.
"Are you old enough?" Severus asked.
"I turned seventeen in March."
"Old enough to enter," Angelique said. "Not necessarily old enough to believe she's immortal."
"I don't believe I'm immortal," Lory replied. "If I did, coming close to death wouldn't be any fun."
"That entire sentence is why I'm not reassured."
Hye stopped smiling.
"Don't make it sound beautiful, Lory. The adrenaline lasts a few minutes. Trauma finds ways to last for years."
"I know."
"You don't," Hye replied without harshness. "And I hope you never have to."
Lory tilted her chin towards Angelique before turning to Severus.
"My sister's been like this for three months."
"Your sister knows the risks."
"My sister thinks knowing the risks means she can stop me taking them."
"Frequently, it does."
"You risked your own life too."
The table fell silent again.
Angelique took off her sunglasses.
"Lory."
"What? It's true."
Severus studied the young woman. Lory did not look away as the table remained quiet.
"For precisely that reason," he replied, "I recognise a stupid idea when I hear one."
Lory narrowed her eyes.
"So you don't think I should compete?"
"I think wanting something dangerous and being prepared to survive it are two different things."
"And how do I find out whether I'm prepared?"
"If you're selected, probably in the worst possible way."
Lory pulled the towel round her shoulders and looked out over the water. Angelique put her sunglasses back on. Her shoulders had relaxed a little.
Claire brought a diagram into the middle of the table and moved its edge out of the path of a drop running off the towel.
"Mind my calculations."
Lory gathered the wet end into her lap. Hye moved a cup aside to make room, and Severus leant over the diagram.
Claire had incorporated the agreement lock Severus had proposed into the design. To verify the champions' identities, the combined wards would produce a mark when they recognised them simultaneously.
"The verification mark will be renewed every hour," she explained. "Any change in magical identity breaks the link."
"Polyjuice Potion or possession?" Severus asked.
"The potion changes the body, not the underlying signature. The seal identifies the external presence."
"Biological samples?"
Claire raised her pale eyes.
"Hair, blood and nails can fool the first layer. Not the ones after it."
Severus thought of the white hair laid on the folder at Beauxbatons.
"For how long?"
"A few seconds. Perhaps a minute, if the forger is very competent."
"A minute is long enough to kill someone."
Angelique watched the exchange in silence.
"Then we'll add continuous verification," Claire decided. "The seal won't just check who's wearing it. It'll check who keeps wearing it."
Severus examined the diagram again.
"That will require an anchor point in each task area."
"I've already started preparing them."
"I want to inspect them."
Claire nodded and went back to smoothing a crease in the parchment. Draco leant over to study the parchment, moving closer to Claire. She explained one of the sequences, pointing to the symbols. When she looked up, he was still watching her.
"Are you following, Malfoy?"
"Perfectly."
"Then explain the last sequence."
Draco looked at the runes.
"It's decorative."
Claire smiled.
"You know absolutely nothing about runes."
"I know when an expert wants to show me she's cleverer than I am."
"You must get plenty of practice."
Lory and Hye exchanged a look.
Severus decided to concentrate on the documents.
***
That evening, everyone gathered in the dining room.
The Blanche sisters appeared incapable of eating a meal in silence. Lory discussed the Tournament's possible tasks, and Hye told an incomprehensible story about an attempt to transport a piano through a fireplace. Lory wanted to know whether the piano had arrived in one piece.
"The piano did," Hye replied.
Draco laughed. Claire smiled at him and waited for him to put down his glass.
"How long have you been working for the Department?" Claire asked Draco.
"My first contract was nearly four years ago."
"And before that?"
"I did research for a specialist. Evelyn Ward."
Hye resumed her story, now describing what had happened to the fireplace. Draco took the opportunity to cut his meat.
"Were you already living in London?" Claire asked.
He looked up from his plate.
"Yes."
Claire waited for him to put down his knife.
"Did you ever ask after us?"
Draco set down his fork as well.
"I did."
Hye broke off her story about the piano.
"This isn't a conversation, Claire," she observed. "It's an interrogation served with wine."
"He can refuse to answer."
"And you'd turn the refusal into an answer," Draco said.
Claire raised her glass to him.
"You're learning."
"I'm setting boundaries."
Her smile remained. Claire set down her glass and did not ask a fifth question.
Angelique sat at the head of the table, although no one appeared to consider this any protection against interruptions. Hye stole food from her plate. Claire interrupted a sentence to correct Draco. Lory asked for the salt just as a house-elf appeared with a question about the wine. Angelique answered the elf, passed the salt cellar to Hye, who handed it to Lory, and resumed the conversation at the very word where she had been interrupted.
This was a side of her Severus had not seen before. It made her more difficult, not less.
"Benedikt will be here tomorrow before lunch," she remarked.
Severus cut the meat on his plate.
"Let us hope the trees are clearer with him."
"He knows the way."
"Naturally."
Hye looked from Severus to Angelique.
"Is there a draught in here?"
"No," Claire replied.
"Strange. It suddenly got cold."
Angelique hid her smile behind her glass. Lory began to tell them how she had found the silver falcon.
Severus turned back to his plate, wondering what else they had noticed before he could hide it.
Dinner lasted almost three hours. Severus only noticed when the clock in the room struck eleven; he could not remember looking at it since he had sat down.
***
Severus could not sleep.
The mattress Angelique had chosen herself was not to blame. It was too comfortable, if anything. The house was quiet; the hum of the wards, earlier mingled with the sound of pool water and voices, was now clear in his room. Severus closed his eyes. He could still hear it.
At midnight, he gave up.
He put on his dressing gown and went in search of the library Claire had mentioned over dinner. Angelique's door, across the corridor, was closed as he passed. Severus spent almost an hour examining French treatises on identity magic. When he returned to the bedroom corridor, he found light beneath her door.
The door was ajar. Severus stopped.
From where he stood, he could see part of the room reflected in a tall mirror. Angelique sat at her dressing table, her hair loose down her back. She was applying an ointment to her left shoulder, where a red line marked her skin.
He ought to go to his own room.
"Are you going to stand in the corridor all night?" she asked.
Severus did not move.
Angelique met his eyes in the mirror.
"I left the door open."
"An imprecise method of issuing invitations."
"The precise ones haven't worked particularly well so far."
She closed the ointment jar and drew the fabric of her dressing gown over her shoulder.
"Come in or go away, Severus. The draught is unpleasant."
He went in. He did not close the door.
"What happened to your shoulder?"
"I tested the continuous verification Claire proposed, after dinner. One of the runes in the test circuit reacted."
"Alone?"
"Yes. I thought it would be a simple alteration."
"You should have called someone."
"It's a scratch."
"Scratches do not usually cause magical burns."
"And excessive caution doesn't usually get tournaments ready on time."
"Your impatience caused a burn. Do not confuse recklessness with efficiency."
Angelique watched him in the mirror.
"Are you worried about me?"
"I am worried about the person responsible for Tournament security testing wards without assistance."
"How romantic."
Severus moved close enough to examine the mark.
"May I?"
She nodded. He carefully moved the fabric aside and placed two fingers beside the burn. The skin was warm, but the residual magic was weak.
Angelique remained still.
"It's not serious," he concluded.
"I told you it wasn't."
Severus withdrew his hand.
"Then why did you leave the door open?"
She turned on the stool.
"Because you still haven't answered my invitation to tea."
"I confirmed that I would return in August."
"You confirmed the dates, Severus."
Angelique stood. Even barefoot, she could meet his gaze without tilting her face up very far.
"I told you I meant it."
"And I heard you."
"But you didn't answer."
Severus regarded her for a moment.
"You seemed more interested in provoking me."
"At first, perhaps."
The direct answer unsettled him.
"And now?"
"Now I still like provoking you."
She took a step towards him.
"But that isn't all."
Severus felt the urge to step back and despised it.
"What do you want from me, Angelique?"
"At this moment?"
"No games."
She took a deep breath.
"I want to kiss you."
The whole house seemed to fall silent.
Severus could have answered with sarcasm. He could have mentioned the differences between them, the proximity of her sisters or the risks of mixing personal relationships with the organisation of the Tournament. He said only:
"No."
Angelique held his gaze for another moment and nodded.
"Very well."
She moved away at once, adjusted the dressing gown over her shoulder and turned back to the dressing table.
Severus waited for a retort. Angelique simply picked up the ointment jar and put it away in the drawer.
He turned towards the door but did not take a step. In her office, she had moved the sweets away when he mentioned Dumbledore. Now, too, she was letting him end the conversation without demanding an explanation. He had enjoyed her company over dinner. He wanted to know her beyond the duties that had brought them together.
"Angelique."
She looked back.
Severus crossed the space between them and stopped in front of her.
"Do you still want to?"
Angelique did not look away.
"Yes."
Severus took her face in his hands. Angelique closed her fingers around the fabric of his dressing gown, and the distance between their mouths almost vanished.
A smile began to form on her lips. Severus stopped.
He was used to examining proposals before accepting them. Now he stood with his hands framing her face, searching for a motive he knew how to recognise. For a moment, Severus heard other laughter, in other corridors. The expectant pause before some act of cruelty proved amusing to everyone but him.
"How much?" he asked.
She frowned.
"How much what?"
"What was the bet?"
Her fingers loosened on his dressing gown.
"There was no bet."
Angelique was no longer smiling. Severus lowered his hands.
"A dare, then?"
"What are you talking about?"
He let a moment pass. When he spoke again, he lowered his voice.
"Who paid you?"
The slap rang through the room.
Angelique did not use magic. She did not need to. Severus stood motionless, his cheek burning.
Her eyes shone, but there were no tears. Only a fury far colder than any of her earlier provocations.
"Get out."
He understood what he had done too late.
"Angelique—"
"Do you think so little of me, or so little of yourself?"
Severus opened his mouth.
She pointed to the door.
"Get out of my room."
He took a step back. Angelique followed and held the door open.
"And do not touch me again without my permission."
The door closed in his face.
Severus stood alone in the corridor, his cheek still burning and her perfume on his hands.
His room was less than three steps away. It seemed much farther away than England.
