Chapter 2 – Two's Company…

"A contented heart is an even sea in the midst of all storms."

Anonymous

11.45 – Monday 28th August 2006

The unmistakeable call of wood pigeons drifted over the thatched roofs of the many cottages, town houses and barns which together formed the village of Hogsmeade. It had been the quintessential British summer so far with a wholly unpredictable mixture of rain, sun and clouds. The adults of this settlement were never particularly bothered by the weather, capable as they were of protecting themselves from the unpredictable elements with the simplest of charms. The children, bound as they were by the irksome restriction on underage magic, were not so lucky. Fortunately for them, there was always shelter to be had under the low, overhanging eaves of the buildings or failing that, the countless oak, hackberry and ash trees which studded the streets and surrounding fields with such regularity.

This day was one of the sunnier ones so far, promising an oven-like heat later in the afternoon if the weather failed to break. At this time in the late morning, however, the sky was a deep blue and was dotted here and there with fluffy white clouds. Already the day was warm and the inhabitants of Hogsmeade were set on taking full advantage of such a halcyon day, for when the all-too-brief summer ended here in Scotland there would be nothing to look forward to except a long, grey winter.

In an area of the village away from the noise and bustle of the shops and hostelries, there was a small thatched bungalow located in a quiet residential street. Its walls were of the purest white, painted fortnightly as they were by either of its two tenants. The garden was immaculate, with well-tended rose bushes, a manicured lawn and flower beds without the hint of a weed. Such a state of repair was hardly surprising for a wizarding residence where the vast majority of tiresome chores could be attended to with the minimum of fuss by magic. What was extraordinary was the fact that the two bachelors who lived there took the trouble to take such care of their home, given that they were seen as 'young tearaways' by the majority of their neighbours.

Not only were they insufferably young, grumbled the retired section of the community, but they were Aurors to boot. This last was uttered with tone of finality which brooked no further discussion of the matter and was all the more curious given that a leading pillar of the community, one Roberto Choeke, was a Regional Commander of the Aurors who had recently been promoted from Field Director. He had lived in the community since not long after the Battle of the Brae, some eight years previously, in which he had served with distinction, being invested with the Order of Wizarding Merit and the Order of Merlin, Second Class. This was an almost unheard of honour, accorded to only a handful of the other veterans of that engagement, most of whom had received their awards posthumously.

The elderly witches and wizards of Hogsmeade basked in the reflected glory of having such a senior establishment figure as Regional Commander Choeke living in their community, but the fact that such whippersnappers were also highly placed and important officials had put many a local nose out of joint. It had been an unpleasant shock when the two of them had been spotted ambling down the main street together in the gathering dusk, doubtless on their way to some Ministry function, with the three concentric blue circles of the Order of Wizarding Merit pinned to the front of their formal dress robes. Apparently, youth was one sin which could not and would not be tolerated, much to the ill-concealed amusement of the two men concerned. They had quickly become accustomed to the twitching of net curtains which marked their passage down the street as the merest whiff of scandal was the very lifeblood of their nosey neighbours. The fact that two unmarried witches regularly stayed the night at their cottage served only to fan the flames of righteous outrage.

Not that the short, slim man with thinning brown hair who was currently snoring in the deck chair much cared. Rising early in the morning as he habitually did, he had made an early start on his pride and joy. The roses which grew in the garden were yet another source of envy in the neighbourhood. Anyone could tend to non-magical plants with their wands, of course, but it was a curious fact that they seemed to respond better to the 'Muggle touch' and this man delighted in spending hours working in the garden with nothing more than his hands. As the sound of the British National Quidditch League being dissected on the Wizarding Wireless Network drifted out of the small kitchen window he slept on, blissfully unaware of the world around him. His gardening gloves lay on his chest, slowly rising and falling in time with his breathing.

As with any Auror on the active service list, he was in the very best of health; the Ministry of Magic could ill-afford to place the security of the magical community in the hands of the infirm and the physically impaired, after all. One look at his face, however, and it would be easy to reach the conclusion that he was recovering from a recent illness. His face was just a shade too thin to be considered healthy and his skin was too pale for having been exposed to the summer sun for the few weeks he had been living in the cottage. His forehead was heavily lined and his eyes sported pronounced crow's-feet, both of which looked out of place on his otherwise youthful face. Mumbling incoherently, his hands bunched involuntarily around the plain walking stick which lay across his lap.

Behind him the low doorway leading into the kitchen revealed a scene of domestic tranquillity. Besides the radio turned to face the window, the low-ceilinged room was cluttered with the paraphernalia of everyday life. Two battered old leather armchairs were turned to face a fireplace blackened with centuries of ingrained soot. Although no fire was to be found there in the height of summer, the two residents would sit in front of the alcove every night without fail, enjoying one another's company and talking about their respective days. Judging by a number of other objects in the room, they would also often while away the evening on other pursuits. A large wizard chess set was set up and ready to play on a low table off to the left of the fireplace, whilst to its right a battered violin and cello hinted at a modicum of musical endeavour. An eclectic collection of books jammed haphazardly into the shelves of a lopsided bookcase rounded off the sitting-room.

Through the door leading to the kitchen, a battered pot of some stew or other could be seen simmering away merrily on top of the blackened old stove and at its side a freshly baked loaf of bread lay cooling on a wire rack. Their savoury aromas mingled together and slowly filled the cottage with the promise of a hearty lunch. The homely image was slightly spoiled by the sink full of dirty dishes but be they Muggles or wizards, bachelors would always be bachelors.

The three remaining rooms in the cottage contrasted with the homely clutter of the sitting-room and the slight disorder of the kitchen in that they were immaculately clean. Leading off an L-shaped passage which connected the kitchen to the front door were a bathroom and two bed chambers. On top of their daily showers, both men would enjoy a long soak in the bathtub whenever they were able. The never-ending physical training of an Auror coupled with the occasional bout of active duty would ensure a constantly renewed crop of bumps and bruises which were always best treated in a hot bath. Combine this with the fact that their female company would brook no slovenliness in matters of cleaning and the end result was an ever-sparkling array of white porcelain.

Though relatively small, the two bedrooms had enough room to house the large four-poster beds which dominated them. Indeed, after installing these monstrous pieces of furniture there remained precious little room for anything else. A single chair and a small wardrobe were the only other objects to be added. Aubrey and Rafe had taken no end of stick from Bob Choeke and Iain Knatchbull for the sheer size of the things, but had managed to shrug it all off with but a thought of those who would be sharing their beds.

"Love conquers all," had been Bob's sarcastic, yet uncannily accurate, observation.

Back at the garden, the slight squeak of the gate announced the arrival of the second occupant. Ordinarily he didn't make the effort to escape the office for lunch, but he was worried about his friend. Changes were afoot and if there was one thing Aubrey didn't like, it was change. He was tall and broad shouldered, but without managing to look particularly athletic as he seemed to stoop as he walked, which had the effect of rolling his whole body forward and making him seem overly aggressive. He looked as if he hailed from foreign stock due to his olive skin, dark brown hair and black eyes, but his facial features were nondescript and it was impossible to pick out any likely countries of origin. Besides, even if his parents were indeed from abroad, he certainly was not. When he opened his mouth to speak, he was indistinguishable from his friends and work mates.

He stopped at the side of the deck chair and looked down at his sleeping friend for some time, his eyes dwelling on the walking stick. He knew perfectly well he was blameless and that these things happened all too often in the life of an Auror, yet he could not help but feel a sense of guilt over his friend's predicament. It wasn't even the temporary limp which bothered Aubrey so much as the fact that it had served to set his friend's feet on their current course; one which was ill-advised in his oft-repeated opinion. Sighing, he crouched down next to his friend and gently placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.

"Rafe, wake up, you lazy arse," he said quietly.

Taking a single deep breath, his friend opened eyes framed by crow's feet to reveal irises of the palest blue. After a moment of incomprehension, he frowned and pulled himself upright in the deck chair. Squinting up at the sky he could see that it was approaching midday and he cocked an eyebrow at his friend, as if to ask why he was here.

"Well," said Aubrey with an expansive shrug of his shoulders, "you cooked pease pudding for lunch."

"Like you could have smelt that all the way from London, Aubrey," scoffed Rafe with a wide yawn as he rubbed his face with one hand and his leg with the other. "You've come to have another go at me, haven't you?"

"Nope, I'm not going to argue my corner again; you know how I feel about all this."

"Good," grunted Rafe, though judging by the wry smile on his face he wasn't as annoyed as his tone of voice suggested. "It's nowhere near as bad as you make it out to be, you know. If there's a nicer place to live than Hogsmeade, I don't know where it is. We've got decent enough pubs, a few good restaurants and can use our brooms without worrying. It was you who didn't much care for it when we were living in a Muggle neighbourhood, having to watch ourselves all the time. Relax, man; we can let our hair down here!"

"Yeah, like you've got any hair left to let down!" quipped Aubrey, but his heart wasn't in it. "Maybe you're right. I just won't like it when you're teaching up at Hogwarts. Who'll watch your back when I'm not around?"

"Aubrey, the worst thing I'll be facing is old McGonagall and a herd of ankle-biters. What can possibly go wrong?"

"It's not the sprogs which worry me, you know that."

"It's a done deal, anyway. I'll only be there for nine months and then the almighty Provost Marshall will have to choose a new victim…it might even be you," he added slyly.

"Fat chance!" laughed Aubrey, apparently mollified by his friend's words. "I'll stow away on the first boat to Australia if he tries to stuff me in a classroom!"

"Excellent! I'll make sure to owl him with the idea, then."

Rafe placed a hand on top of his walking stick and held the other out to Aubrey, who pulled him upright. Looking up at his friend, he winked and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Look, why don't you set the table in the garden? Bob stopped by before and invited himself and Eleanor over for lunch," Rafe called back over his shoulder, as he limped off into the kitchen to see how badly he had burned the stew.

No one quite knew when Bob and Eleanor Armistead had become an item, but some time after the Second War people had become accustomed to seeing them together. At first it might have been a platonic relationship between friends and colleagues, but as the months had slipped by it was obvious that romance had blossomed. As they were both senior Aurors they tried to keep their relationship low-key, but in the company of friends they let their guards down and were openly affectionate with one another. They had married a couple of years ago and Eleanor was now heavily pregnant with their first child.

"Great! The rate she's packing it away at the moment there won't be anything left for the rest of us," Aubrey grumbled uncharitably.

He turned to take care of things in the beautifully tended garden of a picturesque cottage under the deep blue summer sky.