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[Luka Chancery]

Luka stood as the edge of the Quidditch pitch, hands deeps in his pockets.
In one he could feel the parchment he had rescued from the lake... could feel the rough edge where it had been torn from Emmanuelle's diary. He never had been going to show it to everyone. It was ingrained deep into to Luka's heart that secrets were to be kept. But he had been going to tease her with it, maybe pretend that he might tell....
Until she had tricked him into shouting in French.

Luka shivered, pressed down the memories that fought to surface again. She said meet here and he was sure that she would come. He had to find out if she'd understood the only reason why a street-kid would know French. If she had.... well, he had her secret to trade for her silence.
Pretty poor swap. No one's going to hang her for liking Catnteris...
Luka shook his head. He would just have to wait and see what she said.

[Emmanuelle Armand]

(OOC: since i don't know where exactly you mean by the edge of the pitch, i'm just gonna pretend we're in the stadium.)

Emmanuelle was headed to the Quidditch pitch to meet Luka at precisely eight o'clock, and found that she was a bit wary. Not wary of the fact that it was cold, windy, dark, and lonely; wary of the fact that she may get caught out of the school at this hour. She had only narrowly escaped being caught in the Forbidden Forest, and wasn't quite sure she could do it again. And she could not afford to be caught and sent back to France.

Mon dieu, she thought, wrapping her cloak around her tightly. It was so brisk out that she could see her breath. Careful not to make any sound, she entered the abandoned Quidditch pitch and searched for a sign of Luka. Spotting him near one of the posts at the edge of the pitch (she couldn't make out the house colors) she shuffled over to him and took a deep breath.

"I do not know what you are 'iding, but zat does not matter," she began fervently, not bothering with pleasantries. "Because eef you tell a soul about zat paper, I weel make up a story so abysmal, you weel be sheeped back to whatever lowly place you 'ave come from."

Edited by Emmanuelle Armand, 13 October 2011 - 07:20 PM.

[Luka Chancery]

((Ok Pandi ))

Luka pulled his cloak tighter round himself, glad of its warmth. The wind was tugging at his hair, making it seem more than ever like an out-of-control fire. He squinted into the dark, thought he could just make out...
There she was.
And she had spotted him, too, for she strode his way with no hesitation. And with no hestitation, she spat out that if he ever told a soul her seceret, she would do her worst...
Luka felt a rush of relief. She had not guessed it.
"Indeed?" he asked, arching one eyebrow. "Well, it's lucky that I am well-trained in keeping secrets, then." He bit his lip, an strange action from the boy who was normally so calm and scornful. He was not afraid of her making up some story; she would have to have proof of it before he could be expelled and Luka knew that he was much smarter than Emmanuelle Armand... But how much would she try to discover the truth. She said she did not care, but was it so? If she knew... Luka shivered and not because of the cold.
She would know enough to get me hanged... How long will it take before she notices that the only reason a street-kid would know French would be if he was meeting smugglers? And the only reason a tricky thief goes pale and panicky is when he remembers a mission that went terribly terribly wrong...

[Emmanuelle Armand]

Indeed? Indeed? Why was he so coolly accepting this and agreeing with her? She had just admitted that she had no idea what his secret was, and surely he was clever enough to realize she could do no harm without proof. So what was he playing at?

"Well...good," she responded, nonchalantly. "But..what eez your secret?"

Not that she really cared what some idiot mudblood was hiding. But, she was rather curious. He was a thief, so perhaps he was in league with some abhorrent Frenchmen (if there even was such a thing).

Her thoughts drifted back to him agreeing to keep her secret to himself. Why would he do such a thing? He had hated her from the first day of charms class; probably one of those Brits who loathed all things French. But maybe not. Perhaps Luka Chancery wasn't the most despicable human being to ever walk the planet.

Edited by Emmanuelle Armand, 17 October 2011 - 03:45 PM.

[Luka Chancery]

Luka looked as dignified as a boy could look with blazing hair whipping his eyes.
"You think I'm just going to tell you?" he was carefull to sound scornful, but he still worried inside. How could she not guess... how long until she did... Luka dropped his gaze to his boots, thinking. Why should he tell her? None expect the Thief Lord knew what happened on that mission, more than three years ago now.
Three years. And still it bothers you? What kind of wimp are you?
Haunted shadows flickered in his eyes. Luka, so proud of his endless memory, would sometimes give anything just to forget...

"I shall not tell you," Luka broke his strange silence.
"But you can know this," he lifted his chin with a kind of desperate defiance. "That it ended with three people dead. That I only escaped because boys can wriggle through bars that men cannot." His eyes blazed like green fire.
"So perhaps now your curiosity is satisfied, Emmanuelle Armand!"

[Emmanuelle Armand]

Emmy could tell she'd hit a nerve, which would normally give her great satisfaction. But since she newly discovered that Luka Chancery wasn't just an abominable, lowly thief (though he was two of those), she found herself taken aback by his words. Three people dead? He must have been in with quite the crowd.


"Ah, my curiosity eez never sateesfied," she retorted lightly. "But surely I weel be able to guess ze rest."


A large gust of wind brought her attention back to the entrance of the Quidditch Pitch. They were no longer alone, which could mean a few things. 1, a man-eating werewolf had found them. 2, the castle ghosts went out for a late-night walk to the pitch. Or 3, a teacher. She had a feeling that three was the most likely, so she turned quickly back to Luka and dragged him toward the bleachers.


"Zere eez someone else 'ere," she whispered, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. "Zis 'as been a lovely conversation, merci for your time."


She gave his hand a quick shake and tiptoed hastily to the other entrance. She would not risk getting caught again. Without so much as a glance to see if Luka had followed her lead, she exited the pitch and ran quickly through the dark back to the castle and arrived safely in the Slytherin common room.

[Luka Chancery]

Luka was shivering, and not just with the cold. There were serious down-sides to having a mind that never forgot...

Thankfully, Emmanuelle did not press the matter. She claimed she could guess the rest, which was probably true. She was not stupid (not like Meghan Morris.)
Suddenly she was looking out over the pitch. Luka followed her gaze. She was right, and he cursed himself for not having seen it first. Letting her pull him out of sight, he hissed,
"I swear never to tell if you swear the same."

Then they were running, racing through the dark together before splitting off and going their seperate ways. Luka crept unseen to his Common Room. If any of the Ravenclaws noticed him enter, they nothing more than glare sternly. They were used to Chancery arriving at strange hours, and now used to the idea that he would not change his habits, no matter what they said.

[Luka Chancery]

We Have Finished Here.
So I am using Bright Red Letters
To Close
This Thread.

Thank you.

[Professor Penvellyn]

Topic Closed
By request of authors.
(points awarded accordingly)