Blue Belle {Fred Weasley}

Chapter 13

Belle sat down once again alone with Professor Lupin in his classroom late in the evening, when she should be in bed. If anyone was to walk in, they most probably would think they were doing anything but talking. Her long blue hair that had been tugged on not too long ago cascaded down her back, as she tucked it behind her ears to keep it from her face.

"Your school work. Why is it so important that you succeed?" Lupin asked cutting straight to the chase.

"I need to do well."

"I think there is more to it than that."

Belle bit her lip, "my mother, she, she, I just need to do well."

Remus nodded, closing his hands. "Your mother, is she a witch?"

"No, a muggle."

"I see, and why is it? Does she expect you to do well? Does she mind if you try your best, but not always get the highest grades?" He tried to word it nicely, but it had proven difficult.

"She and I. . . We do not always see eye to eye. I just want to make her proud." Belle twiddled her fingers, so they seemed as if they were fighting each other.

Remus' mouth fell open, "your mother? She is not proud of you?"

"Correct." She mumbled. Lupin went to say something but Belle continued, "I am used to it though, it's always been that way."

"May I ask of your mothers name?"

"Beatrice sir."

No. . . It must be a coincidence

"Okay." Remus said, "could I ask your birthday?"

"I don't celebrate it sir, but it is the 16th of December." She replied, slightly confused, but shrugged it off anyway.

That means she would have had to be conceived around March. . .

"Why do you not socialise with others more?" Remus finally asked after a long period of science.

Belle looked down, blushing, "I find it difficult. People tend to find me rather strange, because of my hair. Also because I don't fit in with the traits of Ravenclaws."

"I see, you know we all are different in our different ways. Besides, I know for a fact the sorting hat has put you in the correct house, after all he can see your thoughts. Is it possible that you just need to- make yourself noticed?"

"More so than I am already, with this." She pointed at her head, raising her eyebrows, before yawning. "When is my detention sir?" She asked getting annoyed at his questions.

"You know what, you have already spent an hour here with me, count that as it. I will escort you back to Ravenclaw tower. Promise me you will not stray from there until morning?"

"I promise." Belle nodded.

Once at the tower Lupin turned to the girl, "have a nice weekend, Miss Florence."

"And you Professor." She turned to the knocker which presented her with a riddle whilst Lupin strolled away, wrapping his cardigan tighter around his chest. "What starts with an e, and ends with an e, but only contains one letter?"

She pondered over the riddle, for a few seconds before Lupin called back at her, "An envelope." He sent her a small smile to which she returned and said the answer and was let into the tower.

* * *

The next day Remus awoke and got dressed into his usual attire; trousers, shirt, and cardigan. He swept his hair neatly to it's correct style, brushing his teeth, then using a spell so that the taste of the paste would not affect the taste of his breakfast.
He then made his way to the great hall and sat at the teachers table. It still felt weird for him to sit at that table and not amongst students. Of course he was used to giving detentions, having been a prefect in school days.
Remus ate a hearty breakfast noticing very few students sitting in the hall, Belle being one of them. When he caught her gaze, he politely nodded in her direction before heading back to his office to freshen up.

After making sure he was ready he exited the school and made his way to Hogsmeade. With a crack the man disapparated to Brighton, in the south east of England. He landed in a back alley not too far from the sea front. He slipped out into the open and walked for a short while to the house he hoped Beatrice Florence still lived in.

As the house neared, the outside was clearly the same as when he last saw it. Pristine white paint on the outer walls, hanging baskets of flowers hanging on the porch. The lawn of the front garden cut cleanly, and the gravel path still leading to the door. Remus carefully pushed open the black iron gate, and stepped through, the gravel crunching beneath his polished brown shoes. He closed it behind him and slowly walked up the pathway until he stepped into the porch, his knuckles carefully knocking on the bright red door, labelled-Florence House.

Moments later the door swung open and there stood the pale woman, her blonde hair in a neat bun on the top of her head. A flowery dress flowed over her body and some nude heals were on her feet. "Remus?" She asked, her eyes widening.

"Hello Beatrice, may I come in?" He replied.

After blinking multiple times, she nodded still flabbergasted at the sudden appearance of the man she once knew. After the scarred man entered she closed the door behind him and led him through to the dining room. All of the decor still the way he remembered. She sat at the kitchen table and motioned him to sit too. "Why are you here?"

"To ask you why I was never informed of your daughters birth." Remus replied.

"How do you know about my daughter?"

"I teach her this year. Now, please answer my question."

"Why should I have told you? You left, need I remind you." Her tone suddenly became harsh.

"I left because you told me too! If I do recall, you promptly yelled at me, 'get out of my sight. Leave and never return and take your devils practise with you!' And threw a hairdryer at me." Retorted Remus, folding his arms.

"Then why after all this time did you come back?"

"Is she mine?" He dodged her question.

"Excuse me?"

"Is your daughter my daughter?"

". . ."

"I deserve to know."

"Yes she is! And because of you she now has devil in her!"

"Don't disrespect your daughter like that! She tries nothing but her best to make you proud! And quite frankly I don't see why she bothers! You clearly don't care!" Remus shouted.

"I do care!"

"Really?"

"I give her food, I give her shelter."

"None of that compares to love!"

"Love is just a word!" Beatrice shrieked. "Now get out! And don't you dare tell her you are her father!"

"She deserves to know. I will tell her and give her the love she deserves because as a parent that is your job."

Beatrice picked up the nearest object to her which happened to be a hairdryer-again- and threw it at the man who fortunately had stepped out of the door as it clashed into the wall.

"GET OUT!"