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Author: Adeline Avin Story: Après La Vie Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 8 Words: 31,941
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his universe all belong to J.K. Rowling. I only own it in my dreams. "Excuse me, excuse me," Harry repeated, pushing his way through the crowd. Ginny clung to his arm helplessly. "Excuse me, please step aside," said Harry firmly, "I am Monsieur Brevier, I have an invitation to this function." Flashbulbs went off as another limousine pulled up along the curb. Ginny watched as a smile spread across Harry's face. He waved to the person stepping out of the limo and began to push his way through the crowd in that direction. Ginny wasn't tall enough to see over the crowd and so did not have a chance to see who the person was. Another blur of flashbulbs went off as she and Harry stepped out into an open area near the curb. Ginny could just barely see Harry making a strange display with his handkerchief. "Monsieur Brevier," called the acquaintance jollily, his voice was deep and pleasant, "You are lucky to be attending tonight. I almost had to sell my arm to get you a ticket, even though it is my exhibition. Now who is your charming date?" "It's not as if you didn't almost already cut it off to put on one of your paintings, Deante," chuckled Harry. The lights stopped flashing long enough for Ginny's vision to return to normal. Dean Thomas's face appeared in front of her, the bottom half masked by an eccentric, curly beard. His hair was unkempt and his suit was covered by a one-shoulder velvet cape. They had dated in her fifth year, she remembered, his sixth. She had found him artistic and creative. Everything was very exciting with him, and it had been fun for a while. Ginny wondered if he remembered her. "Leanne Bennett," Ginny said, quickly thinking of a pseudonym once remembering not to blow their cover. She held out a hand to Dean. "I am Monsieur Brevier's cousin, and I am a student of art." "Excellent, I will have to give you a special tour of my exhibition then," said Dean enthusiastically, he then turned pointedly to Harry, "Is there anything you would like to do afterwards? I have not seen you in quite a while, my friend." "I was hoping we might share some Nutella on rye toast," said Harry, "You know how it is my favourite." Ginny thought she saw him wink but then could not discern if she had simply imagined it. "And as tea with lemon is my favourite and goes so well with your choice," replied Dean, smiling, "We should have that as well, don't you agree?" The two grinned widely at each other as Ginny looked on, puzzled. Dean led the way into the Louvre and Harry offered Ginny his arm. They walked through the doors and into a magnificent array of colour. Ginny could hardly take it all in. The paintings on the walls were mostly surrealist portraits, but there was one on the farthest wall that was different from the rest. It was a still-life of a small girl holding a trailing, violet ribbon. The girl had short brown hair and rosy cheeks, and her big, blue eyes seemed to sparkle just as Ginny tilted her head away. She wondered if it was a trick of the light or real magic. "Do you like this portrait?" Dean asked, coming up behind her. "It's beautiful," Ginny said with a nod, still mesmerised by it. "Her name is Catherine," said Dean, "She is my daughter." He paused for a second, staring at the portrait thoughtfully before saying, "The real girl is my only masterpiece." Ginny smiled at this. "And her mother?" Ginny questioned, "Is she home with Catherine this evening?" Dean looked at her amenably. "Catherine's mother left us years ago to meet the definitive artist. Catherine is around here somewhere with Remy, her bodyguard." he replied. "I'm very sorry," said Ginny, immediately regretful that she had inquired into his personal life. "Don't be sorry," said Dean. He did not look upset or angry, he simply continued to stare peacefully at the portrait, "She was not at the end. I've always felt I can learn from her example." Ginny nodded, still feeling uncomfortable. Just as she was turning for another look at the painting Harry came up and whispered something in Dean's ear. Dean nodded and motioned for Ginny to follow them into a side office. "This is the curator's office," Dean said, shutting the door behind him, "We can talk privately here, there have already been silencing charms placed around it. Your Polyjuice Potion was starting to wear off, Harry." Ginny noticed that her own hair was returning to red and curling up once again. Dean smiled at her, recognising immediately who he was in the presence of. He looked unsure of what to say, though. Ginny didn't really know what to say, either. He had been her first older boyfriend, confident and more experienced than she had been at fifteen. Things had ended awkwardly, and three days later she had found him kissing Padma Patil at a Quidditch match. She had felt oddly insignificant when replaced by an older girl with more worldly experience than herself. Ginny had moved on, though. "Ginny," Dean finally spoke up, "good to see you again." He bowed his head a little, awkwardly. "You as well," Ginny replied, touching his shoulder lightly, "I like your suit." He smiled at this. "It's a Lovegood creation," he said, "Luna is an artist in her own right." Ginny had never realised just how secluded she had been in the past ten years. She had been at the center of the wizarding world, and yet had not heard any news of her friends. Luna had grown up just down the road from the Burrow. They had been in the same year, and had spoken often. She hadn't heard word until now of anything her friend had done after leaving Hogwarts. "How is Cat?" Harry asked, "Did she enjoy the Chocolate Frog Card collector's album I sent her for Christmas?" "She was delighted with it," Dean said, nodding, "Can't wait to show off her collection when she goes for her first year at Hogwarts next year. She'll brag, I'll bet, about how she has a greater collection than Harry Potter." Even Harry had kept in touch. Harry Potter who was so busy tracking down old Death Eaters and bringing peace to the wizarding world had remembered to send Christmas presents. He had probably been to weddings and birthdays and reunions that Ginny had known nothing about. She wondered if Colin Creevey had ever become a photographer for the Daily Prophet like he had dreamed of doing. She hoped that Emma Dobbs had got the pretty house with the blue siding she had always envisioned. Had Ginny's old friends ever speculated what her life was like now? Did they even care anymore? "I suppose I don't have to give you a dose of Veritaserum since we've exchanged code words. I'll slide around protocol since I know that particular potion gives you hives," said Harry with a wink. Dean shuddered. "So, let's get right down to business. What do you think D.F. is looking to gain from coming to this exhibition?" "Certainly not a greater understanding of art," Dean chuckled, "No, he's either looking for some thrills with the Muggles here or he's looking to gain publicity." "Cheap thrills don't seem his style," said Ginny, "More publicity would shake up the wizarding world quite a bit, though, not to mention inspire even less confidence in the Aurors." "Motive?" questioned Harry. "Power?" Ginny replied contemplatively, "Stirring up fear? It doesn't seem to be money." "Again, he might be insane," Harry proposed, "We've tried at least fifty crackpots who still think Voldemort's alive and controlling their actions. They hear his voice in their heads. They talk to themselves in Azkaban and scream out for their master in their sleep." "I'm telling you, he's not insane," said Ginny scathingly, "I've studied with leading wizard psychology experts in Brazil. D.F. shows signs of genius, not irregular mental health. But of course, Harry Potter knows best. Won't listen to those who have actually had training in such subjects." Harry shook his head exasperatedly. Ginny's face heated up and she was about to say a few angry words to him when a knock came at the door. "Mr. Thomas, sir," came a gruff voice, "Miss Catherine wishes to see you." Dean waved his wand and the door to the curator's office opened. The little girl from the portrait stood there in the shadow of a gigantic man in a black tuxedo. His height would have rivalled Hagrid's. Catherine was wearing a light blue party dress and smiled shyly at Harry and Ginny. "I'm a bit busy, Kit-Cat," said Dean, smiling at his daughter, "Can it wait?" "Daddy I-" Catherine began, but the bodyguard cut her off. "We'll come back later, Mr. Thomas," said Remy, taking Catherine's shoulder with one of his large hands, "Come along, Miss Catherine, your father is busy." Catherine looked at her father, almost imploringly. A sixth sense in Ginny's gut kicked in. Something wasn't right. *** He may not have as good a sense of people as Ginny possessed, Harry admitted to himself, but he had pretended to be other people enough times to know when someone was acting. Remy had all the telltale signs. Suspiciously, he did not look at Dean when he spoke, but rather, he stared straight at Ginny. Harry glanced at Ginny and realised that she had sensed something was wrong as well. "Please, Daddy," said Catherine, "I really need to-" "Thank you for your time, Mr. Thomas," said Remy, beginning to lead Catherine out of the room. "Wait, Remy, I think we can spare some time," said Harry, "It sounds as if this is important to Catherine, and I have not had a chance to speak with you properly since Catherine's ninth birthday party. Why don't you wait out in the hall with Miss Bennett and myself and we can talk about how life has treated you since. I'm sure your trip to Japan was fascinating." Remy, whom Harry was certain was not the real Remy by now, grabbed Catherine by her brown curls and pulled her out of the room. The impostor had obviously panicked at the thought of being discovered. Catherine began screaming, and impostor-Remy picked her up with ease and swung her over his shoulder. She kicked and pounded on his back with her fists but it made little difference to the gigantic man. He pushed through a crowd of spectators and ran off with long, heavy strides. Harry instantly set off after him. "Call security!" he heard Ginny yell at Dean, "Tell them to seal off the exits!" He then heard the sound of feet running after him. Harry wondered vaguely to himself how Ginny was running in a gown and heels but he had little time to ponder this as he rounded a corner and caught a glimpse of the kidnapper up ahead of him. He was nearing a dead end. The kidnapper turned around desperately when he found himself faced with a brick wall, only to find that Harry was standing behind him. "Make any move and the girl dies," impostor-Remy said, grinning evilly and pressing his wand against the back of Catherine's head. Harry heard the girl sob and her body shook. He held his wand level with the giant man's head but could do nothing but glare at him. "What do you want with Catherine?" Harry asked steadily. The impostor laughed. "The front page," he replied, "Every family will hide their children inside when they hear that D.F. is out to get the Mudblood brats. They'll all shake in their boots when they find out that he's kidnapped one of the best-protected little girls in the wizarding world. It wasn't an easy task. I had to take out Thomas' personal security as well as that dumb bodyguard." "Are you D.F.? And what have you done with the real bodyguard?" Harry just had to keep him busy long enough for security to seal the exits. He couldn't disapparate. The Louvre had barriers just as Hogwarts did. At this moment a tiger with crimson fur came bounding down the hall and landed next to Harry, much to his shock. "Ginevra Weasley," the kidnapper said, sounding pleased, "Good of you to join us." Harry blinked and the tiger was replaced by a panting Ginny, her wand pointed directly at the man's heart. "Leave the girl, Dragon Fang," said Ginny, "and we'll negotiate for trial. Take this offer, or it's a one-way ticket to Azkaban for you. We've got every exit sealed and you can't Disapparate." "You'll let me go, Ginevra," the man said slyly, "Your friend Potter here knows the consequences if you don't. I'll kill little Catherine." Catherine whimpered as he pressed his wand harder against her skull. "You're all talk, Dragon Fang," Ginny spat. "Ginny," Harry said in a warning tone. He wasn't sure what they were going to do. He'd been trained for hostage situations, of course, but he had never been in a real-life situation. There was a flicker of something cunning in the kidnapper's eyes. Harry sensed it too late. He turned around just in time to see a heavy picture frame plummeting towards his and Ginny's heads, but his reflexes weren't quick enough. He remained conscious just long enough to see Ginny sink to the ground and watch with blurry vision as D.F. ran away with Catherine. Sirens went off somewhere. Harry had little hope that backup would arrive in time to catch the kidnapper. Soon all thoughts left his mind as the world around him faded out. *** She was studying with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the library when "I have to go get another reference book," she whispered quickly, getting "Hi," she said softly to him as she reached his hiding place. He backed her "Ginny," he breathed, taking a piece of her burgundy hair and twisting Who?" she said, scrunching up her nose in bewilderment, "Harry?" "Yes," he said, "He doesn't know you're mine." He grabbed her around "He's just a good friend," she assured him shakily, "We've known each "I don't want you around him," he said angrily, "He watches you all the "No, stop," she said, trying to get out of his grasp, "I trust him. He's like "Like a brother?" he hissed, "Your brothers hate me. Do you want to be "Please," she murmured, "Don't. They care about me. Things will be "If you love me then you won't speak to them anymore," her hips were "We're getting married next week, what more do you want?" she said "Come with me now," he commanded, "I need you. They don't care. She followed him like a puppet. Down, down, deep into the depths of He locked the oak door leading into the room. It was small, damp, and "Tell me you love me," he breathed into her ear. "I should talk to my mum," she whispered vulnerably, "She said… we "Tell me you love me," he repeated, pressing harder. His chilly fingertips "I love you," she cried. It was easier to give in. He already knew she was weak.
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