Cupid's Night

Disclaimer & A/N: Largely Chiho Saito's. Random characters and situations from J. K. Rowling. This is a "prequel" to "Cupid's Egg," that other fic I started and didn't have the decency to finish…yet. ;) Um, I'll try to continue posting chapters of that one soon. I couldn't resist jumping to this fic, though (I planned to start it after I finished Cupid's Egg, but my attention span is short and I needed something to distract me from my standstill for Cupid's Egg…). I'm sorry for the lame summary...it sounds like a bad soap opera. Oh well. :)

Chapter 1: The Man at the Ministry; and a Pensieve

Lily Evans sighed impatiently as she stood in line at one of the French Ministry of Magic's security checkpoints. What with heightened security due to Voldemort's attacks lately, she would be lucky to be on her way in an hour. It had been about fifteen minutes so far and the line didn't seem to be moving.

"Typical…just typical…" she sighed to herself; then pulled out some paperwork to peruse. She might as well get something done while waiting.

Five minutes later, the line finally began to move. Lily, immersed in her papers, didn't notice at first. She was jostled by an impatient witch in a purple cloak, and dropped her sheaf of papers on the floor. They fluttered every which way, and she couldn't help letting out a small cry of exasperation as she threw the witch a dirty look.

As she bent to pick up her papers, she managed to drop another folder she'd been holding. As she had been moving forward, the folder flew further from her through the air and smacked a young wizard in the leg.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, struggling to pick up all her papers. She accidentally knocked into the hand of the wizard she'd just hit; he had bent and was helping her pick up her papers. "Oh! Excuse me," she said hurriedly, pulling back and looking up.

He had messy black hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing black robes of a stylish cut and there was a faint, delicious smell of cologne about him. "It's all right," he smiled, handing her the rest of the documents. His expression was intelligent and he was incredibly good-looking.

Lily could feel a blush rising. She clutched her folder to her chest and tried to think of something to say.

"Thank you so much," she finally managed to get out. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you."

He smiled again and indicated that she ought to take the spot ahead of him in line. "Your French is very good," he said pleasantly, in that language. "If it weren't for all these English documents and the forms you have from the British Ministry of Magic, I should have assumed you were French."

If she hadn't already been blushing, she would be now, she thought. The line suddenly began to move, and they moved forward together quite companionably. "Thank you. Are you…?" she asked hesitantly, as they shuffled on.

"Oh, I'm French," he smiled. "Unfortunately, my English is atrocious."

They took a few more steps and made a few passing observations on the comparative security measures being taken in France and England. The French Ministry officials were now moving down the line, making thorough checks on everyone and everything before motioning most of them on. A few individuals were retained and several were escorted from the room by some scary-looking Hit-wizards.

"Are you in France for business?" he asked finally, when the officials had nearly arrived at their place in line.

"You could say that," she chuckled wryly. She had apparated to France that morning to investigate some rumors Terrence had heard from certain contacts in France—rumors about secret societies practicing the Dark Arts…but she couldn't very well tell a random stranger about that. She showed the officials her identification and allowed them to perform the cursory spells verifying that she wasn't carrying illegal potions in her handbag.

"I'm my father's personal secretary, and I'm meant to run a few errands for him on my way home from Italy…"

They were being ushered toward the doors by the wizards making checks. He grinned at her lopsidedly and gathered his things. "Quite the seasoned traveler, then, aren't you?"

They reached the busy street outside the Ministry wards soon enough and stopped, collecting their things and standing awkwardly there, not knowing what to do next. Lily wondered whether they were going to finally introduce themselves, or whether they would merely say goodbye and go their separate ways. She decided to take the initiative, and held out her hand.

"Well, I certainly wish I had a secretary as lovely as you," he said cheerfully, kissing her proffered hand in a charming way. Lily normally hated those fake chivalrous moves that wizards of all ages always seemed to affect when in her presence, but she couldn't help liking this wizard, with his rakish black hair and twinkling hazel eyes. If they were back in Britain, if he were a British wizard she met at the Ministry, maybe…but there was no use wondering about that…and what was he saying?

"It's been a pleasure," he said smoothly, inclining his head. He took a firmer grip on his case and winked once more at her before turning and striding off into the crowd. Within seconds, he was gone.

After arriving at her hotel and taking a long, leisurely bath, during which she recreated her image of the ideal wizard to include mischievous hazel eyes, she threw some powder in the fire and made some calls.

"Chartier?"

The little wizard jumped several feet in the air—his head bounced in the fireplace and nearly hit the grate. He adjusted his spectacles before stuttering, "Y-y-yes? Ah, Miss Evans…"

"Yes, Chartier. I'm in Paris, in my hotel. We received news the other day about some sort of secret society practicing Dark Arts…the informant said you knew more about it."

"Hm…well. I do have some information for you, but nothing about a secret society of Dark Arts. Nothing so serious," He glanced about suspiciously, then said in a low voice, "But I feel it would be…safer…if I were to tell you this in a more…secure…place?"

"But we were told specifically that there was something to do with Volde—well, I mean You-Know-Who." M. Chartier was looking appalled at Lily's almost saying the Dark Lord's name directly and breathed a noticeable sigh of relief when Lily reverted to his popular nickname. "It was something about a few of the Death Eaters coming to France and rallying supporters of You-Know-Who…"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," sniffed Chartier, scowling. "Either way, meet me at Madeleine's at eight o'clock tonight, and wear Muggle clothing. You don't want to stand out." With that, his head disappeared. Lily, frustrated, would have called him again and demanded an explanation, but felt that under the circumstances, Chartier probably wouldn't respond.

Madeleine's was a Muggle restaurant located near a seedier part of downtown. Despite its decrepit façade, however, its interior was elegant by most standards and it was known to serve fantastic desserts. Lily arrived promptly five minutes before eight and was escorted to a small table in a back corner. She wore a neat serge skirt and old silk blouse she had found at a shop around the corner from her hotel, and her hair was tied back in a tight braid.

She ordered a drink and appetizer and settled back to wait. The restaurant had a very nice atmosphere generally, but the corner she was sitting in was very dark, and the table was a little isolated from the rest. She was glad when they brought her wine and lit more candles about her.

It was nine thirty before she finally gave up on Chartier and ordered supper. She wasn't about to let him ruin her appetite. He was probably in a snit about her demanding straight away to know about news he wasn't prepared to divulge. Or maybe he was upset that he didn't know about this secret society business—Chartier liked to think he was an irreplaceable informant, several steps ahead of everyone else.

"Miss Evans?" A young man broke into her reverie. He was dressed in proper Muggle fashion, but she could see the tip of his wand sticking out of his jacket pocket. "Chartier sent me."

"Yes?" she responded immediately. "Where is he? Has something happened?"

"Please come with me," was all he said. Reluctantly, she picked up her purse and left money on the table to pay for her meal. She followed him as he left through a back door and led her down various dark passageways. As they turned what must have been the fifth corner, her mind began shouting at her to turn, something was wrong, she didn't want to continue down that dark corridor…

They arrived at a large room at the end of the corridor while she wondered what to do.

"OW!" As soon as she'd crossed the threshold she was thrown against the wall by some invisible force. Before she could move to pull her wand from the place she'd concealed it in her stocking, invisible cords had wound themselves around her and clamped her to the wall.

"What do you want?? Where's Chartier??" she cried angrily.

"Shut up!" a harsh voice said. She looked up but all she could see were shadows—shadows of people surrounding her, wands drawn.

"We heard you have it," one of the voices said angrily. "We heard you have the pensieve! Chartier said a British woman named Lily Evans had the pensieve. That's you, isn't it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she shrieked, as the cords pulled at her arms painfully. "I've never had a pensieve!"

A few of the wizards had her purse and were rifling through its contents. She remembered with a feeling of relief that she had only some spare cash and accessories inside.

"Yes, look through my purse! You'll see that I don't know what you're talking about!" Mentally she wondered why they would be searching her purse for a pensieve. It wasn't exactly something that could be carried about in a woman's purse, was it?

One of the figures tugged worriedly at another's arm. "Are you sure we've got the right person, Gerard? Chartier said she was British, but this woman seems French to me…"

"It's her," he said sharply, shaking the other person off. In a louder voice, he yelled, "Forget the purse! Strip her and search her clothing and her person—if she won't submit quietly use the Cruciatus—"

"NO!" Lily screamed and struggled as several figures grabbed her and someone aimed a wand at her chest. A muttered word, and she was screaming in pain, screaming until her throat was hoarse—she must have used every single profane French expression she could think of but it wasn't enough—

All at once, the room was flooded with light. A figure was outlined in the doorway.

"What's going on here?" he demanded. Strangely, his voice reminded Lily of someone…

Lights flickered to life around the room and the man at the door moved into the room. He was shrouded in a dark cloak, with the hood pulled low over his face.

"Who was the one who ordered this woman be searched?" he said again, approaching her. Lily wracked her brain to place the voice. She'd heard it somewhere, sometime recent…

The man called Gerard stepped forward. "Jean, Chartier said he gave a British woman the pensieve. We had to get it back! He said she would be waiting for him at the restaurant tonight, and gave us a description…"

The figure was now standing before Lily. She tried to peer under the folds of the hood to see the man's face, but it was pulled far too low. He was still looking at Gerard, though, not at her.

"How do you know it's this girl?" he said bluntly. "She speaks French quite well…I could hear her screaming from down the hall. You might have cast a silencing charm, if you were planning to go about things this way."

Several of the figures hung their heads and looked the other way.

"I didn't say anything about torturing people for information, much less using the Cruciatus. Besides which, this girl doesn't have the pensieve on her…what's the point of torturing her for something she doesn't have and doesn't seem to know anything about? Let her go."

He flicked his wand and calmly, coolly, took Lily's arm and led her out of the building. None of the other people made a move to stop him.

They arrived at the street and the figure—Jean, she supposed—indicated that she should precede him into the waiting car. She didn't have much choice, she thought, since he still held her arms. Her hair had come loose from its braid and now hung in heavy waves about her face. The two of them settled into the car as it began to move.

"We'll drop you off wherever you wish," Jean sighed. He pulled the hood from his face tiredly and rubbed his eyes.

What is this pensieve that they keep talking about? It must be important…and they were willing to perform Unforgivables to get it back. So they're affiliated with the Dark Arts? And Jean…who is he? Lily twisted her hands in her lap, not hearing Jean as he made idle conversation. What happened to Chartier, I wonder? Where could he have gone? Did he really tell these people that I had a pensieve? Why would he do that…

Jean had turned to scrutinize Lily, finally. As they passed below a streetlight, the glow illuminated her face, half-covered as it was by red-gold hair. Her green eyes were full of tears of helplessness. She turned to him—and started.

"It's you—" they both said simultaneously. Lily stared with wide eyes at the man in the cloak—it was the man from the Ministry that morning! The same messy black hair, the same hazel eyes…

The events of the evening, with all their pain and confusion, were too much for her. She fainted dead away.

(I love the new ff.net quick-edit option! And I'm sorry to end this chapter at a sort of bad place...um, I'll try to update soon? :D)