Weft of Power, Warp of Blood: A Tapestry of Desire

Chapter Thirty – One
Buildup to the Wet

Anne-Mette propped her feet on the coffee table and sighed, “I thought they’d never go to sleep!”

Jasmine laughed as she locked the door to the barn. All of the animals were fed. Faust and Florentine were hunting and would be back when they jolly well pleased. Skeevers was in the bedroom with Arielle and Anne-Mette’s two daughters, Sally was asleep in the cinders, and Berri was lurking. “I don’t blame Miss Anne for calling in sick! Three of them are a whirlwind. I can’t imagine twenty!”

Anne-Mette grinned, “I’ll bet she rejoiced when Mirabelle gave her spattergroit.”

“As long as we don’t get spots, too…” Jasmine said as she plunked on the couch and finished sewing the last of the jeweled buttons onto the unicorn hair gown for Narcissa Malfoy.

“Good point – who wants deal with that little irritation until the next full moon?”

Snipping a thread, Jasmine laughed, “I think Niles would love to see you dancing naked in the backyard with eel’s eyes and dead frogs on your throat.”

“That would be the last thing we all need, with Niles in and out so much on buying trips.”

“Who’d have thought that you’d purchase mail owls in the middle of summer? I would have thought spring would be the time for it.”

“Most of them are born in spring. Once summer comes along, they’ve fledged but are still dependent on the parents. It’s the best time to pull them from the nest and begin training,” Anne-Mette explained. Niles owned the local owl-post shop, training and then renting owls to those that didn’t keep their own. He’d even trained Florentine for Jasmine several years ago. Opening their second bottle of wine, Anne-Mette said, “Thanks again for having us over. For some reason, I just hate being at home when Niles isn’t there. Normally, I can handle it, but I feel a bit creepy this time – I suppose it’s just me.”

“Hello? As if it’s ever a problem. As long as you give me a couple hours notice to clean up, I love having you and the girls over,” Jasmine said. What she didn’t mention was that they’d packed Dumbledore and Fawkes off to Uncle Aberforth’s for a long weekend. They had decided that, although Anne-Mette was trustworthy, she couldn’t get in trouble for what she didn’t know. She offered, “Do you want me to have a little go of Dynomagy on you? Might cure the creepies.”

“Oh, no. That’s overkill, I think. The girls love being here. Moira keeps asking for a baby sister – having Ari to play with is a distraction,” Anne-Mette said with a groan.

“I know that song. Arielle is asking for one too. Now I know where she got it, thanks so much.” Jasmine stood and shook the gown out, thankful for the loom she’d enchanted to weave the unicorn hair thread into cloth. It would have taken her at least three days to get this much fabric done without that loom. Currently, it was clacking away in the other room, weaving silk into a complex pattern for Madam Bones’ skirt.

“Well, why not give her one?” she asked, with a grin and draining her glass.

Jasmine checked the gown for flaws, smoothed out wrinkles and said repressively, “Because the only thing I’m sleeping with at the moment is my wand.” After a moment to allow Anne-Mette to stop giggling, she poured herself another glass of wine and continued, “This thing is really far too nice for Narcissa Malfoy.”

“We need to get you a date, missy – and that is too nice for her. Give it to me, instead.”

“I don’t need a date, thank you very much.”

“Well then, what about those babies?”

“My God, you sound like Sirius with the damned babies,” Jasmine muttered and took another drink of wine.

Anne-Mette pounced. “Sirius? What about Sirius? Who’s Sirius?”

Perhaps so much wine wasn’t such a good idea. Trying to save herself, Jasmine said, “Er… no one.”

“And who would you be talking to? Try it on someone who doesn’t know you nearly as well as I do and see how it flies, eh?”

“You would know if I was sleeping with someone,” Jasmine said without looking at her best friend. “I need to put this away and check my loom.”

“Heh, right. You’re sleeping with someone! Who is it?” Anne-Mette persisted, dogging Jasmine’s heels.

She hung Narcissa Malfoy’s gown next to her husband’s suit, grateful for the distraction. Deliberately distracting the interrogation, Jasmine pointed to the loom and fabric laden counter next to it. Anne-Mette cooed over the fabric that the loom had woven under her spells and design.

“Amelia Bones is going to look so lovely in this. I’d say she’s next up for Minister, don’t you?”

“We can only hope so, even if it means the Fudges don’t come to me for their ball robes anymore,” Jasmine said.

“Did Madam Fudge like what you did this year?”

“Did she ever! She went on for an hour about how brilliant I am while I fitted them,” Jasmine preened. “Her husband had me do a cleansing on them both, too. He tried to get me to tell him where Dumbledore is the entire time, though. Wouldn’t shut up until I blew smoke in his face and told him that his aura was terrible and if he didn’t stop obsessing over one of the great mysteries of the universe, he’d be as black as Voldemort.”

Too relaxed to flinch at the name, Anne-Mette laughed uproariously but didn’t ask where Jasmine’s great-grandfather was. All she said was, “You’ll notice that I’m not asking, right? I’ve decided not to. I’ll ask you no questions, you’ll tell me no lies, right?”

Jasmine grinned and said nothing while freeing the fabric from the loom. Anne-Mette accommodated her by exclaiming further over the pattern and asking about the rest of the dress. Showing her the drawing, Jasmine pointed out each fabric and the fur trim that was curled up on a counter.

Stroking it, Anne-Mette purred, “What is this stuff?”

Casually, Jasmine said, “Nundu fur.”

Jasmine quickly flicked her wand to cast an Imperturbable Charm and waited for her words to register. The idea of using nundu fur for anything was outrageous – and the thought of how one would even acquire it was mind boggling. However, Anne-Mette didn’t always think before she reacted. The result was often really amusing.

Anne-Mette’s reaction was well worth the wait. She dropped the fur with nerveless hands and stuttered something unintelligible. Her voice rose as she backed away from the long strip of black fur, “… And what the ruddy hell are you doing with that? Don\'t you know that thing will kill you?

Jasmine couldn’t contain her giggles. Soon, she was sprawled on the floor laughing uncontrollably.

Anne-Mette spluttered to silence then started giggling along.

“Nundu fur… nundu fur?” Anne-Mette giggled. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“Rabbit. Dyed rabbit fur… from the meadow…Hagrid…dinner!” Jasmine laughed.

“You’re such a bitch!” Anne-Mette laughed.

“Would you really expect anything else?” Jasmine quipped.

“You wouldn’t be such a bitch, if you were getting laid,” Anne Mette grinned, slurping her wine between gasps.

“Ugh, if I have to put up with the rot that comes with it, no thanks!” Toasting her friend, Jasmine finished up her glass and removed the Imperturbable Charm.

“What rot? The only ‘rot’ you know is Severus Snape – and while he may be rotten…”

Jasmine giggled and tried to look affronted on Severus’s behalf. “He is not rotten!” She pretended to think. “Actually he might be a bit off, though, come to think of it. He’s not the only rot I’ve had, though, I’ll have you know!”

Mid-sip, Anne-Mette froze. “Oh, really?”

Dammit, Jasmine thought – there she went off again. Peeking at Anne-Mette, Jasmine saw the undisguised and unshakeable curiosity. Blasting discretion and embarrassment to hell and gone, she made the choice to tell her – though she wasn’t sure quite why. Convinced it was the wine talking, she began with the caveat, “Look, it’s really important that it doesn’t get out. Promise me?”

“Darling, who would I tell besides Emily? She hasn’t written back since Gringott’s declared Darian officially missing.”

Biting her lip, Jasmine tugged Emmaline Vance’s scarlet shawl around the dress form. Darian…oh, about Darian…another story. One that ought to be told to her best friend, even though she didn’t really know the half of it. Since this seemed as though it was going to turn into story-hour, Jasmine sidetracked herself with the only thing she did know about her dear friend Emily’s brother. “Right…about that…”

“About what?”

“Er…Darian…” She tried to think of the best way to phrase the explanation of what had happened.

“What about him?”

“He… er… probably isn’t missing in Syria.”

“Huh?” Anne-Mette plunked in Jasmine’s rocking chair and crossed her legs in a very unladylike manner. The skirt of her lovely but faded rose print sundress rode up her thighs.

Deciding to sod all the pretty words, Jasmine began, “Remember last year’s ball?”

“Oh, you mean the one I had to read all about in the Prophet because you were,” she mimicked Jasmine, “too busy, can we talk about it next time we get together- next weekend – I’ll write to you, I promise!”

“Right. That one.” Jasmine hesitated. She hadn’t told Anne-Mette about what had happened for several reasons, only one being that she was embarrassed to have invited such attention from Darian. Also, though, she didn’t want Emily to know how her brother had behaved.

“What?”

“Anne-Mette…”

“I promise – to the grave with it. Not even Emily.”

Still playing with the fringe of the shawl, Jasmine said, “I met up with Darian at the ball last year.”

“You’re sleeping with Darian!”

The thought alone made her stomach turn. “Ew. No.”

“Ew? He’s not ‘ew’. I remember him being distinctly not ‘ew’. Does Emily know?”

“No! Yes, he is ‘ew’.” She sighed. Not knowing how to say it in other words, she decided on the plain version. “He took me out in the garden, propositioned me and then…attacked me.”

“What exactly do you mean ‘attacked you’?” Anne-Mette asked. Nerveless fingers tightened around the stem of the wineglass. Darian was an old friend – his sister was an old friend.

“He said that he wanted to see me naked, then kind of laughed it off, then he grabbed me. I don’t really remember much of it. Almost as soon as it happened, someone Stunned him, then turned off the light – then Severus showed up and I went home.”

“He grabbed you with someone watching?”

“No – yes. I don’t know. I still don’t. Someone was there but they wouldn’t come out from wherever they were. Severus showed up and took care of it all,” Jasmine said, knowing that it sounded lame.

“Well, that’s the luck I guess. Did you tell Emily?”

“I couldn’t. I sat down to do it a hundred times and just… couldn’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Then he disappeared and I…” she shrugged, not wanting to say that she was both relieved that he was gone and worried that Severus had done away with him.

However, Anne-Mette thought of the same thing. One couldn’t be dearest friends with a woman for twenty years and not know what the other is thinking. “So, as far as you know, Severus was the last one to see him?”

Deciding to equivocation might not be a bad thing, Jasmine said, “As far as I know, but I honestly don’t know anything else about it. I’d really tried to put it out of my head until Gringott’s made the announcement that they’d stopped looking for him.”

“Well, it could have been the other person there,” Anne Mette offered, looking hopeful.

“It could have been.” She sounded doubtful.

“And you don’t know who it was?”

“Not for sure, no, but I kind of think it might have been,” she muttered again, “Sirius.”

“The aforementioned Sirius?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“For clarification, which Sirius would that be?” Her face was screwed up as though she already knew but didn’t want to know. A strand of blonde hair dropped into her face. She brushed it away.

“Black.”

Anne-Mette opened her mouth to speak but was, for once in her life, totally speechless.

“Like I said, you can’t talk about it.” Real fear crawled through her belly. The Ministry would have her head – even worse, they would take Arielle away because Jasmine had been harboring the most wanted man alive.

“Will you be wanting to erase this entire conversation?”

Already having used quite enough Memory Charms recently, Jasmine was loathe to use another. However, she would if need be. Giving her friend a level look, she asked, “Do I have to?”

“No, no. I’m good. I shan’t tell a soul – even Niles. He wouldn’t believe me, if I told him. Er… Jasmine, all kidding and comments about his superb arse aside, you do remember that Sirius Black is a mass murderer, right?”

“He didn’t do it,” she said with all certainty.

“How do you know?” Anne-Mette shot back, clearly disbelieving.

“Because Dumbledore let him stay here.”

“Really? Well…in that case…”

“I don’t know what happened, but he told me that he didn’t do it. Professor Grandpa told me that he didn’t do it…”

“If Dumbledore says that Sirius Black didn’t do it – then he didn’t do it. That’s good enough for me. Never believed that he could do such a thing anyway,” she said and took a long drink of her wine to punctuate her statement. Looking at the empty glass, she said “I need another drink – and so do you.”

“I need another drink like I need a good, long bout of the Cruciatus,” Jasmine laughed and picked up a beaded belt – it looked like it needed a few more beads. Doubting that she could sew stitch in a straight line, she set it back down and looked around for another project to fiddle with.

Anne-Mette walked back into the main room, calling back, “Come along, dearie – that’s enough work for tonight. You come have a glass of wine and tell Mama Anne’ everything.”

Not likely to get anything else accomplished anyway, Jasmine dutifully obeyed. Plunking on a couch, she poured herself another glass of wine and began at the beginning. “Remember the dog?”

“The huge black one?”

“Mm hmm. That was really Sirius Black – even though I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Sirius Black is an animagus?” Impressed, Anne- Mette curled her legs up and settled in to listen. Berri leapt into her lap for a feline ‘you’re sitting in my chair so now you have to give up a rental fee’ scratch.

“Apparently. So, he saved Ari from a falling rock on the mountain…”

“Right, right, right. You told me that part last year. What else happened?”

“Er, well, he lived here, as a dog. Professor Grandpa said I wasn’t to know that he wasn’t a dog- so I didn’t know. I treated him just like my dog. Like...like my favorite pet. He went with me everywhere – you remember. Then I had a few dreams…”

“Yeah… you told me that, too. He didn’t project dreams at you, did he? That’s really not a gentlemanly thing to do,’ she scolded.

Voice flat, Jasmine said, “I don’t know – they weren’t exactly dreams, from what I gather.”

“Oh dear.”

“Oh dear is right. I didn’t find out about my dog being a human being and a convicted murderer until after the night we all went to Hogwarts to see the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”

“The night Harry Potter disappeared and came back claiming that You-Know-Who…”

“Voldemort,” Jasmine corrected.

This time Anne-Mette shuddered. “Right, him – that he was alive and back.”

“Right. Well, the night before, remember, we went out?”

“Well, I don’t remember much of it...” Anne-Mette snickered.

“Yeah,” Jasmine made a face. “Neither do I. Apparently though, I seduced my dog.”

“Alright then. That,” Anne-Mette held up a finger, “that is an ‘ew’.”

“He wasn’t a dog at the time.’ She stopped to think. “I hope.”

“So… you had drunken sex with…”

“Sirius Black.”

“Oh my God.”

“Uh huh.” Jasmine looked sour and felt stupid.

“I don’t know if I should congratulate you or scrub you down with Mrs. Skower’s.”

“Funny – bitch.”

Anne-Mette giggled. “Sorry! So… how was he?”

She’d known it was coming, though she was just relaxed enough to say it, “I don’t know… but… I think it was good – beyond good. Amazing. I just wish I could remember it,” she mock pouted, knowing it was expected of her. It was only a moment before she realized that she really did wish she remembered it and a lot more. Anne-Mette’s voice interrupted her musings

“Tell me more! Jasmine, you slept with Sirius Black! You had a crush on him from when you were eleven years old! Was it as good as you thought it would be?”

She thought about it – it hadn’t been as good as she’d thought it would be. In her girlhood fantasies she thought it would be wonderful, romantic, moonlight and roses and a nice dinner out and a diamond ring. It would be life changing and moreover…permanent. Instead, she didn’t remember much beyond the exquisite passion of it. It wasn’t as good as she’d dreamt as a girl; she hadn’t had more than a taste of him. It wasn’t enough. She murmured, “No.”

Aghast, Anne-Mette repeated, “No? Was he that bad?”

“No, he wasn’t bad. All I do remember was that it was amazingly good. I just…” she shrugged.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“It’s just…incomplete. Anne-Mette, he lied to me. He lived here and he didn’t tell me who he was. He touched me and I didn’t know about it. That’s practically rape. Then again when I was sozzeled. He took advantage of that.”

Switching the curl of her legs to the other side and upsetting the cat, Anne-Mette asked, “But is it worth having more of, so you don’t think it’s,” she held her hands up to form quotation marks, “incomplete?”

“I don’t know.” Truly, she didn’t. She’d been so bottled in her rage at being lied to; Jasmine hadn’t taken more than a dreaming moment to do more than write a few dirty stories out in letter form.

“Well, what happened after? When you woke up? I saw you that day, you didn’t say a word.”

“I didn’t know what had happened. It took awhile to figure it out.”

“Wait, so you don’t know? You could have been dreaming it?”

“No… trust me, we had sex. A lot of it. I changed the sheets.”

Anne-Mette smirked then asked, “And then he was gone? No word, no nothing? That bastard!”

“No,” she paused, at a loss for words. “He came back, that night, after dealing with Harry Potter. He said he had to go do something or other with Remus Lupin. He pushed me up against the wall, kissed me senseless, said we’d talk and left. Said I could hit him later. I never did get to.”

Carefully, Anne-Mette put her wine glass down. Stunned, she said only, “Oh, my.”

Jasmine nodded and looked miserable. Telling someone was a relief, but it didn’t feel very good.

“Did you talk?”

“Er… not exactly.”

“Jas, you either did or you didn’t.”

“He wrote; as soon as he started that, I ripped the letters up and sent them back.” Perhaps telling her about the letter that got away wouldn’t be…

“You ripped them up? Why?”

“Because I was angry! That’s what angry women do! When I calmed down, I started keeping them.”

Anne-Mette purred, “Oh really? I want to see.”

“No! They’re very…”

“Personal?”

Latching on to that, she blurted, “Yes!”

“Now, I really want to see them! You never wrote back?”

“Er…”

“Yes?”

“After awhile, his little notes got longer and he included a bit of poetry or…”

“Sirius Black writes poetry?”

‘Er…bits of poetry at first, then some…er…stories.”

Anne-Mette raised one blonde, well-plucked eyebrow, “Stories?”

“You know… those kinds of stories-in letter form. He called them dreams, but they were,” Jasmine blushed and continued, “to use the formal term, curiosa.”

“You mean they were pornographic,” Anne-Mette smirked.

Jasmine giggled, “Very.”

“Sirius Black, hunk of Hogwarts, writes porn. Are you sure I can’t read it?”

“No!”

“Oh, come on!”

“No. There’s no way,” Jasmine insisted.

“Want to bet? Accio curiosa!” Anne-Mette commanded.

In an instant, all of the books on the top shelf of one of the bookcases hurtled towards them and landed in a stack on the table. More books flew from around her bedroom, which Jasmine realized that she probably should have closed. One by one, the Muggle romance novels that she was fond of, dropped into a neat stack on the table. On top, lay a sparkly book by one Anne Maxwell, with the intriguing title Fire Dancer. Anne-Mette reached for it with a gleeful smile, saying, “You’ve got quite the collection here! Now this looks good – is it about that girl who dances for the Weird Sisters in their concerts – the one who’s so good with Flame Charms?”

“No, it’s about a girl that…”

Just then the little wooden box – the box that Jasmine so definitely didn’t want Anne-Mette to see - plunked down on top of the books. With reflexes long borne of protecting herself and her children from the razor sharp talons of her husband’s owls, Anne-Mette snatched the box from the pile before Jasmine’s fingers even brushed it. When Jasmine growled, Anne-Mette held the box up and said, “This is them, isn’t it?”

Jasmine nodded, looking sour.

Anne-Mette hesitated then held the box to her. “What kind of friend would I be? It sure would be interesting reading, though.”

Jasmine took it, and smiled, abashed, she said, “Thanks.”

“I’ll just read this, instead,” Anne-Mette said, picking up the book and peering at the glittery cover. “How do they get the cover to glitter like this without charms?”

Jasmine tucked the box into her pocket as though it was a precious treasure. Picking up the bottle of wine, she poured herself another glass and topped Anne-Mette’s off.

“Ta. So, he sent letters.”

“And gifts.”

“What’d he send?”

“Remember the glass flowers I had on the table?”

“I thought those came from Dumbledore?”

“I just said they came on Valentine’s Day. Not who they came from,” Jasmine said with sleepy honesty.

Anne-Mette rolled her eyes. “Remind me to be more specific when I interrogate you. Didn’t he ever try to Floo?”

Sipping from the glass, Jasmine told the brutal truth, “He did, after he got a letter that Florentine took accidentally. Remind me to talk to Niles about that, by the way.”

“Wait, you wrote back?”

The wine had loosened her tongue enough to admit, “At first, no. Later, when he started sending those stories, I scribbled a few of my own…”

“You wrote erotic stories, too? You?” Anne-Mette laughed in the way that only tipsy women can in the freedom of her dearest friends. “I didn’t think you knew enough about sex to write something steamy. Though, seeing all of this,” she gestured to the pile of books, “I think that innocent little Jasmine grew up into a raving sex beast.”

“I was married, thank you,” Jasmine said and blew a sloppy raspberry. “I am not a beast. I’m perfectly normal, thank you.”

“And you did have an affair with Sirius ‘Can I please have some of that’ Black. You were exchanging letters? Are you still?”

“No! The one that got out was an accident. It wasn’t supposed to go. I was just scribbling and tossing them in the box. Florentine took it off the table.”

“Oh – I see. You might want to talk to Niles about that.”

“That what I said!”

“Alright, so just one letter from you. But you talked to him in the Floo?”

“Er…no…er…sort of...no.”

“No? But I thought you got over being angry?”

“I got so mad at the letter going out that I…er…”

“You what?

Mumbling, she said, “Screamed like a fishwife and threw a frying pan at him.”

“Because you were embarrassed at having written ‘curiosa’ about a man that you want that wants you in return?”

When faced with the truth, Jasmine mourned her own stupidity and nodded.

“Jas, I love you like a sister, but honey, you’re an idiot.” Anne-Mette was nothing if not direct.

“I know,” she said and felt even more miserable.

“Well, what’s to do about it?”

“Anne-Mette, he was a berk!”

“Yes, he was, but he couldn’t tell you, even if he did fall for you. Get over it.”

“I know that, too. I still want to slap him, though.”

“I think you have a perfect right to do that,” Anne-Mette shrugged. “But then you need to sit down and talk. See if there could be something to it all.”

“I don’t know if I can trust him, though. He lied to me. He…”

“If you say that he touched you, you’d best remember that you were an active participant. I saw the love bites, if you’ll recall.”

“I know. There’s so much left undone. I even had a dream about it, and that wasn’t even finished.”

“So what’s the plan? Are you going to contact him?”

“I should, eh?”

“Yeah, love, you should.”

Just then, the fire sprang to life, startling both women. Before Jasmine could demand who had invaded her locked Floo, Dumbledore’s head appeared.

“Jasmine, I need you to come through to the Ministry immediately. I need your expertise and your mother and grandmother aren’t home,” he ordered.

“They went to France, remember? To see this year’s crop of lambs and flax,” Jasmine said, as she dropped to her knees and crawled to the fireplace.

“Jasmine, have you been drinking?” Dumbledore sniffed her breath and sighed.

“Er…yeah…” Suddenly, Jasmine felt sixteen again, when she’d been caught with Anne-Mette and a bottle of Old Ogden’s.

Looking cross, Dumbledore demanded that she come through anyway. Calling behind him, he ordered, “Get Mundungus Fletcher. If anyone has a Sober-Up Potion, it’ll be him. Get it and come back, please.”

“Professor Grandpa, what’s going on?” Jasmine asked, still on her knees at the fireplace. She looked at the water clock – it was three in the morning.

“I have a piece of fabric that I would like you to look at. Anne-Mette, would you please stay there with the children?”

Blinking at the bright light Anne-Mette nodded, “Sure.”

“Thank you. Now go get yourself a Sober-Up Potion in the upstairs guest bathroom. Drink it then lock all of the doors and windows. Put protective charms on them all and do not open the door or Floo to anyone, no matter if you know them or not. Not even your husband. Do you understand me?”

Wobbling slightly, Anne-Mette stood up and said without question, “Yes, sir. I’ll go do it now.”

“Good. Thank you. Jasmine, if you will come with me, please? It’s rather important that I get more answers on what this cloth might be.” He pulled himself out of the Floo connection and held out his hand.

Standing, Jasmine gave instructions to Anne-Mette to use her bed and not be surprised if Berri cuddled up. Wobbling a bit herself and still very confused, she took Dumbledore’s hand and stepped through the green flames into the Ministry courtyard.