Here is the first part of my Fantasy Fest fic. Look for the rest tomorrow or Tuesday.
Title: The Black Robe of Flanders, Part I Rating: PG-13 or thereabouts Summary: Severus must find and disarm a legendary horcrux, with Remus as his assistant. They didn’t count on the complications. Warnings: snarking, kabouters, smoking of tobacco and other substances, references to legal drug use, possible pre-slash, bad food. Note: this is for the Fantasy Fest prompt "kabouters." I have made the kabouters somewhat larger than they really should be, and have likely offended many people from Fryslan, Sneek, The Amicitia Hotel, and the Low Countries in general. I can only plead ignorance and throw myself on the mercy of King Kyrie. Also, the icon shows a kabouter with a mushroom. Really.
"Tell me again," said Remus, "what we're doing in Sneek."
Severus rubbed his elbow and sat up. His robe was smudged with brownish street dust. "It's pronounced 'Snits.'"
"I know that, Severus. I'm still not sure why we're here." Remus braced himself against a charming little fountain and levered himself upright. Being thrown bodily into a cobblestoned street by a knee-high woman with the vocabulary of a stevedore hurt much more than he'd thought it would.
"Because this province is the last recorded location of the Black Robe of Flanders, and Sneek is the only town we haven't visited yet.." Severus curled his upper lip at the doorway of the Magisch Archief van Sneek. "The Deutsches Ahnenerbe tried to steal it during the Nazi invasion in 1940 and it was supposedly hidden here in Friesland - "
"Fryslan!" The tiny woman, face nearly as red as her pointed hat, popped open a first story window and began yelling again. Remus recognized English and what sounded like idiot pig wizard amidst the torrent of Dutch - Frisian? - invective before the window slammed shut and warded itself.
"Friesland," Severus continued, glaring upwards. The window glass shivered slightly but held. "As I said, the Robe was hidden here to protect it from the Nazis. Despite this, rumors have persisted since the Second World War that Grindelwald managed to get his hands on it and used it as the focus for a horcrux."
Remus sat down on a charming little bench by the charming little fountain. Sneek was a picture postcard Dutch town, with a yearly festival called Sneekweek, a large water gate, and plenty of the quaint, expensive shops that appealed to Muggles on holiday. The Dutch Ministerie van Magisch had said there was a small but active magical community and had happily given Severus and Remus a portkey, map of the town highlighting recommended hotels and restaurants, and the address of the local magical archive, plus good wishes for the success of their mission. It had all been smooth as glass until they'd actually gotten to the archive and its keeper.
"I'm still not sure why the Ministry sent us and not the Aurors. They're more experienced at this, and - "
Severus pulled out a package of Gauloises, lit one with a snap of his fingers, and took a long, hard pull. Remus coughed as smoke wafted past his nose but still held out his hand for a hit; he rarely smoked these days, but if ever there was a time for a nice, relaxing nicotine fix, it was now.
Severus raised an eyebrow but passed the fag over without a word. "I am here as a condition of my parole, which I owe to Harry Bloody Potter and his obsession with interfering with my life instead of letting me fight my own battles with the Wizengamot. You are allegedly here as a Dark Arts specialist even though I'm perfectly qualified to disarm a horcrux on my own." He reclaimed the cigarette and deliberately blew a smoke ring toward the window. "I can only assume that this is a cover for you keeping an eye on me to be certain I don't revive Grindelwald, even though I never met him and have no desire whatsoever to see a magical Nazi regime in Central Europe."
It was largely true, unfortunately. Kingsley had asked him to "keep an eye on Snape" despite the mountains of evidence that Severus had been the Order's most valuable agent throughout both wars. Remus had felt a bit guilty since he agreed with Harry that Severus deserved an Order of Merlin, not parole and exile from Hogwarts, but not guilty enough to refuse the assignment. Horcruxes were difficult to destroy, and having another person along for backup was a good idea.
That Remus had had his own reasons for leaving Britain for a few weeks was a happy coincidence.
"I couldn't say," he murmured at last. "Severus, I - "
"Shut it, Lupin. You're far too easy to read. Be glad you never met the Dark Lord." Severus finished his cigarette, stubbed it out against a gamboling stone cherub's navel, and banished the butt. It was getting on toward dusk, and Muggles were starting to fill the streets as the shops and businesses closed.
"We should try to find a hotel before they fill up for the night," Remus said as the sky slowly darkened toward indigo. "Any suggestions?"
Severus grunted. "You have the tourist package they gave us in Amsterdam. Please try to pick a clean one this time."
"It's not my fault that the B&B in Leeuwarden had bedbugs." The mere thought of last week's disaster made Remus itch again, even though Severus had whipped up a lotion that had healed the bites almost immediately. "Really, Severus, it's not like I'm an expert on Dutch hotels."
"No, you were too busy ogling that dreadful waitress with the gigantic tits to - "
"I was not ogling - "
"Hey! Chill it out!"
Both wizards turned toward the high-pitched voice that seemed to emerge from the cobblestones. A man who made Filius Flitwick look like a Muggle basketball star waved dreamily up at them, then hopped onto Severus' knee.
Severus jerked backwards, cursing as one of the fountain's streams got him in the back of the head. The little man blinked at him once or twice, then produced a mushroom nearly as big as his head and nibbled delicately at the cap.
"No need to be upset, mijn heren. Want a bite? Very fresh today."
"I most certainly do not - "
Remus made a slashing gesture at Severus, who fortunately got the point and shut up. They'd had enough problems with undersized people and wandless magic today without offending someone who would likely start hallucinating any second.
"Thank you, but we're not interested in sharing your - " Remus frantically paged through the Billy-Bing Automatic Tourist Translation Guide to All European Countries (guaranteed or your money back!). There were sections on both "foodstuffs" and "drug paraphernalia," and of course they were two hundred pages apart.
"Mushroom, Lupin. It's a mushroom." Severus ignored the water dripping down his back to peer at the brownish fungus. He frowned slightly. "Psilocybe bohemica magica, if I'm not mistaken."
The mushroom's owner shrugged and wriggled into a slightly more comfortable position on Severus' bony thigh. "We call them paddos. Good stuff." He gestured toward a back alley. "Go to Blue Heaven and tell them Bram sent you. He'll give you good deal."
"That's very kind of you, but we're more interested in a place to stay," said Remus. He watched as Severus, all but wincing, carefully positioned himself so that the little man wouldn't fall into the fountain and drown when the rush hit. "If you know a good hotel - "
Their visitor slowly peered over at Remus' tourist guide. "That one is filthy dirty nasty, but the food is good. The other has good beds and bad, bad eating." He giggled. "Stay at one, eat at the other. Stay, eat, stay, eat, stay - "
"Bram!" The window flew open again and the archivist stuck her head out. "Leave those English pigs alone and come in for supper!" The window slammed shut, then opened again long enough for her to add, "And leave the paddos behind! Never will you learn if you are stoned!" before banging down with enough force to echo off the cobblestones.
"Your mother?" said Remus. Both individuals were short, fair haired, and plump, and both wore pointed red caps and equally red wooden shoes.
"My Tante Griet, assistant archivist." Bram made a face, shrank the mushroom to the size of a matchstick with an unsteady hand, and hopped off Severus' leg to the cobbles. "She needs paddos more than I do. Sorry, but if you meet her, be careful."
"We've already had the pleasure," said Severus. "Your aunt is - "
"Ooo." Bram took a wobbly step forward and nearly fell face first into a puddle. He giggled at his reflection in the muddy water and hauled himself upright before continuing on his way. "Good stuff. Bye-bye English wizards! Remember Blue Heaven!"
"Well." Remus watched as their new friend wavered his way to his front door and what smelled like a superior dinner on the stove. "That was interesting."
"That was appalling. I knew soft drugs were legal, but - " Severus shook his head, cursing under his breath as the fountain suddenly lept higher and got him in the shoulder. "Pick a hotel, Lupin. Any hotel. Just get us out of here before we drown."
A Muggle who looked like the stereotype of the American tourist raised a digital camera and snapped their picture. Remus grabbed Severus by the arm and hauled him toward the nearest alley before he could hex the camera to show nothing but Gilderoy Lockhart's grinning teeth. "We'll try the Amicitia. Our friend said it was clean."
"It had better have an en-suite," muttered Severus. He glared at the tourist, who said something like "oo, I love his costume!" and took another photo. "Lupin - "
"Have to be out of camera range. Hang on - yes, right here." Remus cast a disillusionment charm on the tourist, fixed the coordinates for the hotel in his mind and apparated them both before Severus could object.
Bram had been right about the food: it was terrible.
The Muggle tourists, most of whom seemed to be American, were so enchanted by the glories of Sneek that they didn't seem to care what was put in front of them. Severus, who was something of a food snob thanks to Lucius Malfoy's French-trained elfe de cuisine, sneered his way through the limp salad, watery veg, and overcooked meat. Remus felt so bad for the waitress that he left a double tip.
Fortunately their room was spotlessly clean. They had been offered their choice of a modern room (including Muggle television, "wyefye," and a luxurious en-suite with a bidet) or their choice of "themed rooms." Remus had taken his life in his hands and booked a Muggle room, all but certain that Severus would bring the building down about their heads if forced to stay in a "retro 1960s kamer" that featured a sofa built like the boot of an American car, or a "Hindenloopen" room with authentic folk motifs painted on the furniture, a pseudo-brick wall, and an authentic old-style cupboard bed for two built into the wall.
Fortunately Severus seemed to care more about taking a shower than complaining about the presence of a dreaded Muggle clock-radio. Remus drew the curtains, unpacked, and took a spoonful of Madame Dyspepsia's Never-Fail Digestive Potion before settling down to write his daily report to the Ministry. The fish had definitely tasted off, and -
He didn't bother to cover his mouth during a very satisfying belch, and of course that was the exact moment that Severus, wearing nothing but a towel about his hips and another about his hair, emerged from the en-suite. Remus managed a weak smile.
"Madame Dyspepsia - "
"Also has a line of less effervescent potions, Lupin." Snape yanked the towel from his hair and shook the tangled mass loose. It was surprisingly long, and the hotel shampoo made it smell surprisingly good even from several feet away. "Next time, please ask for one if your delicately balanced digestive system is incommoded by the local excuse for food."
"Sorry," Remus murmured. He'd spent the better part of two weeks with Severus, but this was the first time the other man had relaxed enough to walk about in a towel, not a nightshirt that would have been old-fashioned in Albus Dumbledore's youth. "The fish was tainted, I think."
"The fish, and the orange mess they called carrots, and that miserable excuse for cheese." Severus summoned a wooden brush and began untangling his hair. "The only redeeming feature of the meal was the beer, and that was barely acceptable."
He finished combing his hair, dried it with a snap of his fingers, and padded back to the en suite to change into his night clothes. His legs were surprisingly shapely for being so thin, and his back and shoulders -
Remus burped again. A small brown bottle flew out of the bathroom, nearly catching him in the forehead.
"Take that before you vomit on the rug!"
"Sorry!" Remus drained the bottle in one swallow and breathed through his mouth as whatever-it-was took effect. "I don't know what came over me."
"Neither do I, since you saw me taking one just before we were served that alleged fish," said Severus. He shook his head at the sight of the unfinished report. "I'll finish - no, take a shower and brush your teeth. I daresay Shacklebolt wants something coherent for once."
"But - "
"Don't worry. I'll find some way to explain our failure." Severus scowled at the hotel biro. "It shouldn't be hard to get past that appalling female in the morning. We can discuss it over breakfast."
Breakfast. Remus took a deep breath and headed for the shower. Dear God, I hope he doesn't mention food again tonight.