The Arcadia Art Studio in Soho

[elegante_fleur]

Date:April 11, 2000
Time: Just before 2pm
Character(s) Involved: Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Severus Snape, Montague Morsus, (Millicent Morsus?)
Complete
Rating: PG-13 to R (possibility for bad language and conflict?)

Comments

[subtle_simmer]

Morsus was as slick as ever, his flowery words and silken good breeding spinning a cocoon around the unwary with the ease of one who had been raised amongst such words from the moment he could speak.

"Reminiscence of the past is often pleasurable," he agreed vaguely.

Severus, having spent the first ten years of his life under the influence of the lowest of the poorly educated, working-class Muggles had been forced to struggle to learn 'polished' refinements later in life--though learn he did.

Still, said refinements would never come as easily to him as those such as Morsus, and required careful focus and attention. In times of anger or stress, he often slipped into the more common vernacular, and occasionally, in a true fit of rage, the mortifying Yorkie accent would find its way into his normally perfect diction.

Not today, however.

He would not insult Morsus by refusing the refreshment - he carried antidotes with him everywhere, and was never without the time-release disc of Veritaserum antidote secreted against his cheek. Still, he did not trust the other man, and would have preferred the freedom to test the substance before imbibing - which would be impossible here, without giving insult. Still, he would be cautious, when the servant returned with the promised delicacy.

At present, he contented himself with following a few paces behind Mrs Weasley and Morsus. He took in the gallery and artwork with an eye that had not been trained in proper art-appreciation, noting instead with uncultured opinion that he preferred the paintings whose objects were clearly understood, and found the abstracts to too closely resemble potions-accidents framed on the wall.

He liked the room in general, aesthetic appeal of the various artwork aside. It was brightly lighted and made shadowy corners from whence might come an attack very limited. He did wonder at the lighting, though, that the paintings weren't at risk of fading from oxidation caused by the ultraviolet light, but clearly Morsus knew his business.

Standing behind them, he listened with cynical amusement as Morsus began his web of flattery, even though the painting to which he directed the young woman's attention was remarkable in its artistry.

"You honour us excessively, I am sure," Severus protested mildly. "You must have many satisfactory visits in the course of your day, what could be the importance of one more - though, admittedly, Mrs Weasley does enhance the ambiance of any room."

He resisted the urge to spit at the taste of such banality coming from his own mouth - but that was one of the things which had made Severus so successful as a spy - he could blend into almost any setting. Even ones full of flowery words and empty flattery while dangerous inquisitive observations lurked in sinister concealment just beneath the surface.

[elegante_fleur]

Fleur smiled to Montague and allowed herself to be lead towards the painting. It was indeed beautiful, and in another lifetime Fleur might have inquired at it's price. But times had changed and while Bill and Fleur were not destitute in any way the vault at Gringott's wouldn't stretch quite far enough to pay for that particular artwork.

As Montague and Severus exchanged their niceties behind her, Fleur continued to look the painting over. Appreciating the artist's work on this piece with only an amateur eye really.

She had the decency to blush at Severus' comment and turned around, "Really, you both flatter this poor girl far too much." She smiled softly and watched as the servant scampered off to retrieve the wine. "I do not think of zis meeting as mercantile in zee least, Monsieur Morsus, razzer eet is called for zee most charitable of reasons. Zat being your willingness to 'elp wiz zee reopening of 'Ogwarts, and what is charity if not shared between friends."

She was not near as distrusting as Severus and had no suspicions about what may or may not have been added to the wine. Although that was exactly why Fleur needed an escort. She was a very capable and intelligent witch, but she was far too trusting of people.

[morsus_et_mors]

"Duly noted, Master Snape, Mme. Weasley is an adornment to any room, outshining even the most wondrous of gems," Montague bowed to Fleur, one hand behind his back, his whole stature that of poised elegance. "From heaven or hell, O Beauty, come you hence?" he recited slowly with a small smile, his gaze catching that of the beautiful French, stability of his mind barely unflinching, as the part-Veela charms of Fleur's threatened his mental serenity. Montague had to remind himself that the same beautiful woman was not even a full human, a mere hybrid, a shameful stain on the noble family, part human-part animal. That seemed to work and in a few seconds, the polite owner of the Arcadia art gallery was charmingly inaccessible as always.

"But Mme. Weasley speaks the words of wisdom, for surely charity can only exist between the best of friends," Montague continued, nodding in agreement, as he stood facing the two, fingers linked behind his back. "Hogwarts has given so much to me in terms of an all round education," at that his gaze fell on the tall figure of his former Head of House, and perhaps if one was to be looking very closely and knowledgeably, one would notice traces of nostalgia, a misty reminiscence of the days that passed and were never to return. "I doubt I shall ever be able to pay back for all I've learned," Montague finished with a slightly more sinister tone, as that smallest tentacle of his vulnerability was pulled back inside to be replaced with sharp spikes of poisonous politeness and hidden malice.

Thoughts that anyone could play with Montague's feelings deserved the most gruesome of deaths.

"But I do apologize for my rather jaded evaluation of our joyful meeting as mercantile. I am sure we shall come to all sorts of agreements during the course of it, for the well-being of my alma mater supersedes all," Montague then said with a smile that was back to pleasant.

Meanwhile, as the three exchanged meaningless pleasantries and enjoyed the view of the bright room with beautiful paintings and a few sculptures displayed, the servant was back with a silver tray, carrying Noirien in the dark bottle of a slender shape, and three crystal Pinot Noir wine glasses. "To Hogwarts, rebuilding, beautiful women, and pleasurable reminiscences of the past," Montague offered a toast, as he accepted the glass the servant offered to all three of them.

[subtle_simmer]

Severus was at his most wary, his most observant. Morsus had been among those who witnessed some of his own most depraved actions while within the Death Eaters - one of the few 'distinctions' of his 'high' ranking after killing Albus - he, himself, was no longer allowed the anonymity of concealment within the fold. All Death Eaters knew he was among them, and what he had done. Unfortunately, this did not go both ways - Morsus knew a great deal of what Severus had been up to during those years - Severus had little knowledge of Montague in return, or of his wife. Only that Montague had been there, often.

Whether he was there due to threat and coercion and therefore one of those who might be secretly 'relieved' that Potter had destroyed their Master at last, or whether he had been as fanatical as Bellatrix and therefore anxious to choose a new leader and start afresh, was beyond Severus' ability to discern. He could also not make habit of attempting to use Legilimency to find it out - one did not have to be much of an Occlumense to 'feel' the touch of someone else trying to probe one's secrets.

No. The best he could do was to remain watchful and wary, conceal his own thoughts behind his impenetrable Occlumency and implacable facade while observing for the slightest hint of true motivations in the other.

Scarcely any different than how he had spent his years during the war.

He accepted the glass of wine, wordlessly, though he did not attempt to conceal his careful examination of the fragrance from the glass - this, at least, was accepted, if a bit eccentric, etiquette when offered fine wine. Though, admittedly, many poisons could easily be concealed within the rich body of the heady aroma.

Severus raised his glass to Morsus' in acknowledgment of the toast. When he drank, he barely touched the fluid to his lips, and examined the flavour on his tongue, minutely. This, also, was not out of deference to the fine wine, or from any sort of training or expertise in the various distinctions of one wine to the other--but of something much more close to home. Like a wine connoisseur, Severus could detect almost any tampering of any food or beverage with a taste. Even the 'tasteless' potions often left a change of texture or a unique residue which he had trained himself to recognise.

"You are as gracious as ever, Mr Morsus," Severus replied after 'drinking' to the toast. "I am certain Mrs Wealsey appreciates the attention. You have, perhaps, a more appropriate location for the attending to business?"

Severus was in no humour to linger here and continue to expose the girl to Morsus' observations. The less time spent with 'unknown' quantities, the better. He was not afraid for himself, but he would dislike being placed in a position to have to remove all ambiguous shadows from his own loyalties.

[elegante_fleur]

Fleur lifted the glass from the servant's tray and raised it towards the other two with a slight nod. "Merci, Monsieur Morsus." She said as she raised the glass to her lips it dawned on her the possibility that the wine may be tainted. She stole a quick glance at Severus as he raised the glass to his own lips. Her better judgment told her that if Severus felt the drink safe to partake of, or atleast was himself, than she could be less wary of the red wine.

As she took a sip from the goblet she looked up at Severus who had begun speaking and nodded, moving the glass from her lips. "Oui, your 'ospitality is geenerous, Monsieur, but I know you are a busy man, and I do not wish to monopolize your entire afternoon. I am sure you 'ave many ozzer meetings and people to see."

[morsus_et_mors]

"But of course, it wasn't very nice of me to keep you afoot, while the business is waiting," Montague apologized, calling for the servant to take away their glasses once they were done. With an added smile that he always defined as charming, Montague invited his guests to follow him into the study, where all the necessary stationery, or indeed, comfortable furniture was available for relaxed discussion (even despite the fact that the word 'relaxed' suited their current disposition the least).

On their way through the several passageways that led from the main exhibition pavilions to the inside rooms and halls of the gallery, Montague had enough time to organize all his thoughts and observations into neat piles of information to be retrieved and analyzed later in due time. The dim light provided by exquisitely ornamented girandoles on their way made it even more pleasant to think, lulling him into a safe illusion of solitude and quietness.

Among the things that bothered Montague the most was the question of Snape's true loyalties. He hadn't believed a word of the Prophet and Ministry, when they proclaimed Snape Dumbledore's spy. How true could that ever be? A spy that killed his own master? And even if that were possible, Montague had seen all of the 'depravities' Snape had committed, and committed with quite the relish, without even slightest tinge of disgust, as a thing that he most enjoyed in his life. Could such perfect acting skills be possible? Snape couldn't have done all of those things they all participated in without a certain level of intrinsic pleasure from doing so-- ergo, he was one of them. Somewhere deep inside, so deep even he himself could have not been noticing all this time, if it were true that Snape was Dumbledore's man. Did that mean that there was still hope for Snape?

One thing Montague knew for sure - Snape was not to be trusted with the ideas he had been harbouring, ideas that were to gather the true and the loyal into a group and grow in power and strength, before striking hard. And most obviously, Montague was not to be trusted with the details on Rabastan Lestrange's forthcoming release, however unexpected it was to be.

The necessity of caution and secrecy when dealing with important matters was Snape's best lesson given to him during all the years of their contact.

"There we are!" Montague finally opened the large oaken door that led into a well-lit study. He flicked his wand making sure that their surroundings would fit the newcomers, magical cleaning brushes abolishing whatever little specks of dust there were, while a pair of tall-backed armchairs were motioned closer to the ebony desk. "Please, suit yourself, and, please, do not let my pleasantries steer you away from the main interest of this meeting. I have such a bad habit of trying to please people that sometimes I may forget there are more pressing matters. So without further ado - a contribution. How much is needed and what are the details, Mrs. Weasley?"

[subtle_simmer]

Severus fell back into his role as 'silent guard' as he followed Mrs Weasley and Morsus deeper into the labyrinth of the gallery. Could he imagine Morsus' ruminations, he would have been simultaneously exceedingly proud, arrogantly dismissive, and disgusted with himself. Proud, because he had succeeded so magnificently in his endeavours' arrogant, because he expected nothing less - he was very good at what he set out to do, after all; and disgusted because of what he had done. And, as Morsus surmised, it was not possible to do such things without deriving pleasure, somewhere.

One has to like performing the Cruciatus, for example, for it to be truly effective.

Severus liked it a lot. Though, admittedly, not as much as Bellatrix.

In his own self-defence, within the confines of his own thoughts, when he had to perform a particularly repugnant tasks, he merely imagined he was performing them against individuals he particularly loathed. His own father, for one, Sirius Black, for another.

It was, obviously, a very effective technique.

Severus did not sit, when they entered the comfortable room. He was here in an 'official' capacity as a guardian, to see that Mrs Weasley was not victim of some unknown crime - with his former 'associates', anything was possible. Instead, he stood just to the side and slightly behind the chair she selected. A poor parody of the knights of old, perhaps, but there was that in his bearing and the ever-watchful, glittering black eyes, which somehow managed to recall tales of chivalry and honour in a strange, shadowy way.

[elegante_fleur]

Fleur was pretty well oblivious to the private musings of the two other men. Perhaps the air was a bit tense between the trio, she thought, but really it was an uncomfortable situation for all. Taking her seat in Montague's office she crossed her legs primly watching as Montague continued around the room.

"Oui, Monsieur. Zough zee amount eez completely at your discretion. Minerva and I 'ave decided to allow our contreebutors to determine zee amount, razzer zen place a certain amount on zee table."

She pulled the briefcase up from the floor and into her lap unlocking the twin latches with a click as she continued to chatter away. "Obviously we are 'onored by your desire to contreebute to zee school and eet's reopening. So, naturally, any amount you choose eez acceptable and comendable.' She said with a bright smile to Montague as she pulled a number of papers out of her briefcase and laid them out on the desk in front of her. Unlike the slow methodical social event she had had with Narcissa earlier Montague was much more inclined to treating this like a business meeting and Fleur was in no position to argue. The afternoon with Narcissa had taken a toll on her with all of its etiquette and societal demands.

There were essentially three papers she had laid out. The first was simple enough as it gave Gringott's permission to release the funds to Hogwarts and allowed for an approved representative to retrieve the galleons. The second was bit a thicker as it was backed up by a number of clauses and restrictions, but,basically, was insurance for Hogwarts. In summary, it insured that the money was bequeathed in a benevolent and charitable cause, and that there would be no financial return in monies or influence by the school. The third was a promissary note to be signed by Montague and included the amount that the Morsus' would be donating.

This last one was what she chose to slide across the table first. With a silent prayer that, hopefully, this would go as smoothly as possible.

[morsus_et_mors]

The paperwork - what Montague hated the most. It was, perhaps, a remnant of his childhood dislike for all things bureaucratic and office work that his family used to go through at times during their travels in Europe. For a child, even the slightest delay (which in case of paperwork was usually more than just slight) equaled a disaster of planetary scale. An instant scowl appearing over his eyebrows, Montague accepted the papers.

The first two were fairly easy and Montague signed them without a second's doubt, as they were mostly the bureaucratic manure that he usually despised. With a look of slight distaste, he flipped through the pages, involuntarily making sure that there were no additional clauses or the likes. Of course, it was not like neither Mrs. Weasley nor Master Snape would go for an intentional fraud, but his instinctual carefulness could not be fooled around. In the world of enemies one had to make sure all of the flanks were backed up.

These papers done, Montague finally went for the third paper. This was a harder one. How much of his fortune was Montague ready to relinquish? Especially for such a cause as rebuilding Hogwarts - the very same Hogwarts he had participated in destruction of with the fierce intention of annihilating it completely. What an ironic twist of fate, he thought. However, personal likes and dislikes had to be put aside in the face of possible influence over the place. Hogwarts - the hotbed of talents and filth, the future of Wizarding Britain. One, who had the power over it, would have the ultimate power, as it was not enough to control the Ministry and the mass media. One had to actually have power over the minds of the youth to make sure that the established New World Order survived its first few critical years. This Montague understood well enough.

I, Montague Morsus, donate 700 galleons to Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardy on my own behalf, in clear mind and keen sanity. Signing the first paper, Montague slid it back across the table, looking up at Fleur. "I hope the amount shall not make me look like a miser," he said with a slight smile. The amount was more than enough of a contribution from one sponsor, however, Montague wanted to make sure his was among the best. After all, it was the issue of earning respect, even if with only money in the beginning.

[subtle_simmer]

Severus made no attempt to view the papers or read the pledged amount. It was no business of his, and he knew Morsus was too intelligent to expect to be able to 'buy' Minerva McGonagall.

Though, whether one liked the hard, cold fact or not, money did buy power in many forms. Grudging respect borne of unwilling but necessary gratitude was a toe-hold in the door. Severus did not envy Minerva her upcoming battles to keep that nothing more than a toe-hold.

Smirking knowingly at Morsus over Fleur's head, he gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. Morsus knew how to play the game quite well, indeed.

"I'm sure the Headmistress will be pleased with any donation, Montague. No one would consider you anything less than generous, I assure you."

[elegante_fleur]

Fleur watched anxiously as Montague set his pen to the paper and unknowingly held her breath as he penned in the amount he was donating. It was a large sum, admittedly, but was well beneath what Narcissa had donated just hours ago.

Fleur, however, was elated, in only one afternoon she had secured 1700 galleons for Hogwarts. It was no small feat by any means, but it also wasn't going to have the school reopened tomorrow there was still much work to be done.

"Au contraire, mon amie, Meenerva and I are pleased wiz any donation zat eez freely given."

She hadn't really listened to Severus' last exchange with Montague, as she had made it her practice to ignore men in general, as it was, her mind was already lost in thoughts of upcoming events and fundraisers. And, so, the general sarcastic tone coming from Severus was quite lost on her.

Fleur was not sure what had made this meeting so different from her last, and perhaps it was simply that one, Severus Snape, was occupying the room with her, a man who knew well this unknown side of the world, of purebloods, and death eaters, and darkness. Somehow she felt safer and lighter than she had hours ago with Narcissa acrossed from her, or maybe it was just that men were more familiar to Fleur than woman. She could play a man, fool him, and generally understood them, whereas women were always a challenge to a beauty like herself, catty, manipulative, and always harder to anticipate. Fleur could always sense, could tell what a man was about to do.

She smiled softly to Montague as she collected the papers and settled them back into the small briefcase before closing the lock; bringing her thoughts back to the matter at hand. The meeting at the Arcadia Art Studio was nearly finished, and she had collected what she had came for. She felt an extreme since of pride and satisfaction.

Slowly she pulled her wand from the pocket of her jacket and with a soft swish sent the briefcase home where it would land on her kitchen table, awaiting her. "I do 'ope you will come to zee 'Ogwarts rebuilding, Monsieur Morsus. I know zee Slytherin dungeons could use an experienced eye such as yours to 'elp wiz zee decorating."

[subtle_simmer]

Severus remained silent, but it required great effort. He was no longer a professor there, after all, and had destroyed any possibility of ever being one again.

He could not overcome his proprietary feeling in that regard, however! He had lived in Slytherin house seven years as a student, and fifteen years as Head of House. In his mind, those were HIS dungeons! How dare she suggest they needed 'decorating'?! Especially by someone with such high-brow tastes as Montague Morsus!

He remained silent, but a muscle clenched in his jaw.

[morsus_et_mors]

How quaint. Was he being offered an opportunity to try his hand at the Hogwarts rebuilding - and what's more - at 'decorating' the Slytherin dungeons? Montague grinned, its suddenness almost uncanny, had it not been for the bright daylight.

Why not?

Oh yes, there was Master Snape.

"I'm glad to be of any service to school that gave me so much," Montague then replied, getting ready to stand up the moment Fleur would. "And everyone would sadly only include those in the coterie, Master Snape," he added, turning his attention on the older man. How truly strange he really was. Montague couldn't quite crack him and doubted it would be very easy too.

"I will have to prove my generosity all over again, I'm afraid." Montague did not take his eyes away from his former Headmaster, ready to take in every possible facial response.

[subtle_simmer]

Severus offered a supportive hand at her elbow as Mrs Weasley rose to her feet, his eyes locked on Morsus' as the other man stood with flawless manners and grace.

"While Mrs Weasley has been authorised to seek and accept pecuniary donations for the school, Headmistress McGonagall retains all decision-making authority," he said calmly, striving mightily to conceal is irritation over the thought of someone meddling in 'his' dungeons! "I am certain Mrs Weasley will notify the Headmistress that your generosity extends to your talent as well as your capital."

As he began to escort Mrs Weasley to the door, he paused to regard Morsus, also puzzling over the other man. Where were his loyalties, now? Opportunist, or true pureblood supremacist?

"We ought to meet again in the future, Morsus, for something more casual than business. I have scarcely had opportunity to speak with you in quite some time, and should like to see your lovely wife again, as well. I enjoy keeping in touch with my former students."

[morsus_et_mors]

A hospitable host, Montague walked with them through the hallways, seeing them off to the door. He did not reply to his former Headmaster on the way, pondering what that request of a meeting could mean. A mere inquiry as to how the Morsus couple's things were going or something more than that? An attempt to re-establish connections with the Death Eater camp? Or on the contrary - a spying enterprise, especially considering Snape's unsurpassed skill at spying and remaining comfortably ambiguous about everything. Then again, it could be that Montague was just being plagued by paranoia, and there really was nothing to Snape's question.

Unlikely.

The trio finally reached the large oaken door, which was when Montague stopped, turning toward his leaving guests to bid them farewell. He took Mrs Weasley's hand to pay her respect with an air kiss, before turning to Snape.

"I'd be delighted, Master Snape," he said, bowing slightly. "Anytime that you shall deem suitable for our meeting - owl us and we shall be at your service." That said, Montague bowed again, receiving his thanks and return farewells, before opening the door for his guests. "Do come by any day."