A/N: Written for the Convince Me Competition.
She sits across from him, and, somehow, even in a relaxed setting, she manages to look stern, her navy eyes narrowed and alert, her posture rigid.
"You seem tense, Milly," he says with his brightest smile.
"Amelia," she corrects, and he sees the first hint of a small, barely there smile. "And you act like tension is a bad thing, given the current times, John. We must be alert."
He laughs. "You sound like Mad-Eye."
Amelia. The thought of her causes his heart to ache.
It's been two years since the date, one since her death, and John can scarcely go a day without her memory floating through his mind.
"You finally accepted," he says, attempting to change the subject from work, and from Alastor. This is a date, the start of something new and wonderful. The Ministry needs to be left far behind.
"Yes," she says simply.
"It was my rugged good looks, wasn't it?" he teases, stirring his soup absently with the spoon.
Her smile is slightly more visible now, but there is something else behind it. Pain? Perhaps. John cannot quite tell.
He needs her now. She would have found a way to get him out of this mess.
"Take Augusta Longbottom as quietly as possible," Pius had instructed. "Her grandson is becoming a problem for the Carrows. If we had her, he might be a bit more⦠compliant."
Amelia would have taken him aside the moment the Death Eaters took over. She would have had a plan ready in the beautiful, clever mind.
"My brother died in the last war."
"Edgar," John says, nodding. "I remember him well."
He shifts awkwardly in his chair, wondering what her brother has to do with anything.
"There is a war coming. You, of all people, cannot deny it, John."
He frowns but nods, sipping his soup to keep himself occupied. There have been talks of war in the Auror department, mostly among Mad-Eye, Tonks, and Kingsley. But John has chosen to ignore it. Best to focus on the present, not the unprovoked future.
John sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. Can he really do this? He's an Auror, for God's sake! He doesn't go around, kidnapping sweet old ladies in the dead of night!
At least, he hadn't before this whole mess. Now, he's followed orders blindly to save his on skin. Now, he can barely even recognize himself in the mirror.
"My brother died, but he lived a full life. A wife that loved him, a job that brought a smile to his face, friends and family who adored him. His death was painful, but I doubt he died with any regrets."
"You're saying you'd regret not giving me a chance if something were to happen to you?" he asks, and though this conversation feels dark, he can feel a fluttering of hope in his stomach.
His stomach is in knots as he readies his wand. He can do this. He has to do this, or it could be the end of him.
Taking a deep breath, he knocks. "Augusta Longbottom?"
"I've seen the way you look at me, John. You adore me, but I always pass you by. I don't need a man to complete me. But I've become quite fond of you, though I don't show it," she says.
The flutter is almost maddening. "And are you still fond of me?" he asks. "We've managed to sit through an entire first date. Plenty of time to change your mind."
She laughs- the first time he's ever heard her laugh. God, it's such a beautiful sound. "I am still fond of you," she assures him. "But it's getting late, and we both have to be at the Ministry in the morning."
"Let me walk you home."
Relief washes over him when she offers him her hand.
"Augusta, this is John Dawlish," he calls sharply. "I need to speak to you."
The door opens.
Amelia pulls her cloak tighter around her shoulders as they stroll through the village.
"Tell me, John," she says. "Why did you become an Auror?"
John isn't sure exactly what Augusta has hit him with. He lays on the ground, his head throbbing, and the old woman long gone.
He groans, his whole body aching as he tries to roll onto his side.
"I wanted to make the world a better place," he answers as they come to as stop in front of her home.
"You're doing a fine job," she says, placing a small, chaste kiss on his cheek.
"Look at me now, Milly," he murmurs, pulling himself up. "You'd be so ashamed."
