"Hello?"
Amelia backed out of the wardrobe she had been fixing the back of, somehow managed not to topple over backwards, and trotted down the stairs. By the fireplace in the sitting room, which Arthur had had one of his friends at the Ministry connect up to the Floo Network early that morning, was a faintly sooty looking Severus Snape. He snapped his fingers as Amelia rounded the corner and all the soot on his clothes evaporated, leaving him looking immaculate, as usual.
He was eyeing the TV with an air of distrust.
"Amelia," he began, and then had to stop because his friend had enveloped him in a tight hug.
He returned the hug with his usual mix of surprise and faint embarrassment. She felt him try to move back, expecting her to end it, but she didn't want to; she held him tighter, inhaling the curious mix of herbal and metallic aromas that came from being a Potions Master.
Ever since they had found out that Voldemort was back, Severus had been vanishingly hard to find. Although he refused to tell her what he was up to, Amelia had a strong suspicion that he was spying for Dumbledore – a theory borne out when he had broken off the budding relationship he had been having with Hazel, for her own safety.
Fortunately, it was impossible to track anyone's movements through the Floo Network, and as a special favour to Arthur, the Floo Wizard had excluded every fireplace except a select few, which made the cottage a lot more easily defensible, which made Amelia and Remus feel a lot better. Severus couldn't use it often, in case someone unsavoury had managed to circumvent their unplottable-ness and was watching the farm, but they were reasonably certain this wasn't the case – yet.
It was entirely possible that this visit would be a one off.
Severus was grumpy, irascible, annoying, occasionally mean, difficult to get along with (sometimes, just plain difficult), intelligent, courageous and possessed of a dry, endearing wit. They had fallen out several times, particularly when Amelia had found out about his dark and (he freely admitted) stupid past, but had always been close.
It was a bit of a relief just to see him in one piece.
"Do you mind if I have my body back now?" he asked, after a moment.
"Sorry," she said, taking a step back. "I missed you."
"You only saw me a fortnight ago," he said, but the note in his voice told her that he understood.
It couldn't be easy for him.
"No heathens today?" he asked, glancing suspiciously towards the other doorway as if he were worried they were about to be overtaken by teenagers.
"They went off for a ramble," Amelia explained. "I'm assuming they'll get lost and end up in Wales. It's character-building," she assured him, on his look.
"Do you think it's wise to let Potter walk off into the countryside with a group of teenagers?" he asked.
Amelia shrugged.
"No one knows he's here – if anyone's looking for him they'll be focussing on Sirius's house or the Dursleys'. Besides, if there's trouble, Fred or George can Apparate straight back here and raise the alarm." She paused, continuing sadly, "If things go the way they look like going, he's going to need some carefree memories to turn to. With any luck, this week they can just be kids for a while."
Severus grunted. "I suppose so," he said, grudgingly. Amelia got the impression that 'being a kid' hadn't been a big part of Severus's youth.
"Come and have a tour," she said, and practically dragged him around the house.
This being Severus, he didn't ooh and ahh, instead he merely looked faintly impressed at some parts and a little disparaging at others – particularly the turquoise bathroom. He knew better than to express an unpleasant opinion, however; it wasn't as if he had to live there, after all, and he knew from past experience that if he was needlessly mean, Amelia would simply hit him.
"Where's your husband?" he asked, admiring the walled garden from the window of one of the bedrooms. "Out for walkies?"
Amelia snorted. It had taken a long time for Severus and Remus to make their peace, and comments that would have, years ago, started a duel, were now taken with a lot more grace.
"I'll tell him you said that," Amelia warned him, smiling.
"I'll tell him you laughed."
"He went shopping with Bea," she chuckled. "I think he's more excited about having a proper stove to cook on than I realised. They said something about seeing if the British Heart Foundation had anything useful, too. They have a second-hand furniture shop in Oswestry."
"Yes, you seem to be a few chairs short of a dining room," Severus observed, as they wandered back downstairs together.
The few chairs that had been brought over from flat were clustered in the kitchen and none of them matched.
"We need another sofa, too, since we've decided that the back room needs one." She sighed, looking around the passage at the bottom of the stairs. "It's far too big for us, Severus. It's ridiculous."
Her friend gave her a slight smile and pointed out that since they were married now, society might expect their little family to begin to grow.
Amelia snorted. "It can expect anything it wants to," she told him, firmly. "But I've no intention of bringing an innocent into this world when we're heading straight into a war. It wouldn't be fair…"
She trailed off, surprised at how wistful she sounded. In all the chaos of the last few months, she hadn't given possible children the slightest thought at all.
"And they'd be a target," she continued, quietly. "Look at Neville – look at Harry."
"They were targeted for other reasons," Severus pointed out, sadly.
"I know they were," she said, rubbing his arm. She knew what it had cost him, to see Lily Potter lying dead in the ruins of her house. "But I can't imagine a Death Eater not killing a child if their parents defy them."
"No," said Severus, darkly. "And the two of you are nothing if not defiant."
They shared a sad look. Amelia had no doubt that he had seen just that, back in the last war; she was just as certain he would never tell her about it.
"Come on," she said, brushing those darker thoughts away as best she could. "You can help me start getting our books on the shelves."
"You can make me a cup of tea," he told her, and she swatted his arm, amused. "In this…"
He extracted a neatly wrapped package from his robes. It wasn't small, and not for the first time, Amelia found herself wondering whether he had a bottomless pocket in there somewhere, for travelling and emergencies, like Mary Poppins' carpet bag.
"You bought us a present?" she asked, surprised.
"I believe it's another tradition," he said, inclining his head. "You'll forgive me if I've not had much practice at these things, but –"
He stopped talking, surprised that Amelia had kissed his cheek.
"I should probably wait for Remus to get back," she said, "but if it's tea-related I suppose I could make an exception."
"Practical as ever, Miss Brown – sorry, Mrs Lupin."
Amelia stuck her tongue out at him and carried the package to the coffee table in the book room, where they had put the squashy old sofa from the flat. Molly and Bea had made new covers for it, and it looked much happier under the big window. She applied herself to the wrapping paper around the box while Severus folded himself neatly onto a cushion at the end of the sofa.
"Ooh," said Amelia, appreciatively. "Severus, this is lovely – thank you!"
"Well, you know," he said, dismissively. "Tradition and such."
Amelia kissed him on the cheek again, and took the beautiful traditional Chinese teapot and cups into the kitchen to wash them and make a brew, leaving her usually pale friend's blush clashing horribly with the brightly coloured sofa cushions.
0o0
When Remus arrived, several hours later, Severus and Amelia had most of the books dusted and on the shelves – though not in any kind of order, because there's nothing worse for a book lover than having someone else organise your collection for you.
He clapped Severus on the back, admired the new teapot and cups and dragged them both outside to Bea's van, to help him carry quite a few second-hand chairs, a barely used sofa, a couple of chests of drawers and a broken (but entirely repairable) bed for the spare room into the house.
By the time they had everything roughly where it ought to go, stomachs were beginning to rumble, so Remus went to stick the oven on and retrieve the shopping.
"I thought we could try pizza," he said, dumping the bags on the table.
"Hmm," Severus grunted, eyeing the boxes unenthusiastically.
Pizza wasn't something the British wizarding community regularly encountered.
"Oh, come on Severus," Remus prodded, amused. "It's only food. Live a little."
"We can eat in the garden," Amelia suggested, blithely ignoring Severus's expression.
Someone knocked on the open front door and Amelia went to see who it was. She found Hazel, who had worked at the hospital until 4 a.m. that morning, admiring the new sign by the front door.
"That's rather good," she said, and gave her old friend a hug.
"Arthur Weasley made it for us. Isn't it pretty?"
"You're already considering replanting," Hazel guessed, with a smirk.
She knew her friend well.
"I come bearing gifts," she announced, and thrust a large, brightly wrapped package into Amelia's arms.
"Ooh," said Amelia, peeling off a corner. "Tea!"
"There's a few different kinds," Hazel told her. "I figure you can start up your shelf of teas again."
Amelia grinned; her tea collection had been legendary at university. On those dust-free, well-maintained, oft-perused shelves, there had been a tea for every occasion – like a library, but for beverages instead of books.
"Great minds think alike," said Amelia, thinking of their brand new Chinese tea set.
"Well, I may have had prior knowledge. Is… er…" Hazel paused for a moment, peering over Amelia's shoulder. "Severus wrote to say he was coming over…"
"And you wanted to know if you needed to brace yourself," Amelia guessed. She patted her friend's arm. "Yes, he's in the kitchen – complaining about pizza. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," she said, though she looked like really she meant 'no'. "It's not like we parted because we fell out or anything, he's just being noble – and sensible, if Remus's stories about the last war are to be believed."
"Hazel…"
"We're friends, Mel," she said, her voice firm. "If I'm going to see him at all while this stupid, bloody war is going on, then I'd better suck it up."
Amelia studied her old friend's expression; she recognised the mixture of ferocity and determination there. When Hazel made up her mind to do something it was a case of goggles and god help you. Sometimes, the lady was not for turning.
"Alright, my brave heart," said Amelia, and led the way to the kitchen.
"Hello Remus!" said Hazel, brightly, and proceeded to pretend that Severus's sudden coughing fit wasn't, in fact, happening. "I like the new sign – how are you settling in?"
"Pretty well, thanks!" he said, shutting the oven door and giving her a one armed hug with the potholder. "Should be set for you to move over from Bea's next week."
"Whenever," she said. "I have to say, suddenly moving back in with people after living alone for a while was a little galling at first, but Bea's out on the farm most of the time, and Hermione's pretty quiet for a teenager. Quieter than we were, anyway," she added, cheerfully nudging Amelia in the ribs. "But I'm really going to miss Bea's cooking."
Remus and Amelia laughed, but Severus turned away. Amelia guessed that he was busy blaming himself for Hazel having to partially abandon her life.
Well, she thought, that will have to stop.
"Believe me," Amelia assured her. "Being in a different building will not stop her insistence on feeding everyone. I think she's liked having you around, to be honest."
Hazel smiled, but her eyes were on Severus's back. Remus shot his wife a helpless sort of look; Amelia gave a minute shrug. There wasn't really anything they could do – not yet, anyway.
"How've you been, Severus?" Hazel asked, and Amelia busied herself with putting away some more of the glasses in another part of the kitchen.
Remus appeared beside her, looking awkward and waving a box of glassware in her general direction. She heard one of his stray thoughts:
This is beyond uncomfortable.
Her husband met her eyes and Amelia wondered whether the thought had been all that stray, after all.
You've got that right, she thought back.
"Er… not bad," Severus said, awkwardly. "And yourself?"
"Yeah, well, you know… Busy at the hospital."
"Mmm."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus wince. Conversation was tricky enough for Severus as it was.
"How was the exam season?" Hazel asked. "I heard about the conclusion of the Tournament."
"Yes," said Severus. "It went smoother than anyone could have expected, really. The exams, too – though we had the usual collection of extraordinarily stupid transcripts."
The tension eased a little as Severus recounted some of the more spectacular academic screw-ups, and Hazel couldn't help but laugh. Soon, all four of them were comparing moments of student or patient-based hilarity. The mood wasn't easy, but it was at least tolerable.
They carried their plates of pizza out into the sunshine and (to Severus's horror) sat down to eat on the lawn in the walled garden, between curved banks of flowers. Sitting with her friends and debating the merits of various pizza toppings in between laughing at Hazel's story about the man who got a lightbulb stuck in his mouth (you can get it in, but you can't get it out again*), it was easy to pretend that the world was a sane, safe place. With the scent of the summer blooms and the high, delightful sounds of birdsong in the trees, they could have been eating pizza in the Garden of Eden.
Maintaining an acceptable level of friendliness was clearly wearing on Severus and Hazel by the end of the meal and almost as soon as they finished eating, Severus slipped out of the back garden with Remus and went to inspect the stable block, presumably to advise his less adept friend about a potions laboratory.
Hazel sighed, heavily, her head slumping into her hands as soon as he was out of sight. "This sucks."
"I know," said Amelia, rubbing her back.
There wasn't really anything else she could say.
"Come on, I'll give you the ten penny tour and you can start planning where your furniture's going to go."
0o0
"What's that?" Amelia asked, taking the bottle of wine out of the fridge.
Hazel had headed back to work, night shifts being non-negotiable at the moment, and Severus had Flooed back to Spinner's End several hours before. Remus and Amelia had spent a pleasant few hours mending their second hand furniture and filling the chests of drawers up. They'd decided to stop when the sun had gone down, with the intention of enjoying a couple of glasses of wine in the garden.
"Just got an owl from Dumbledore," said Remus, showing her the letter. "There's a staff meeting on the sixth…" He trailed off.
"Remus?"
"He's coming to see us on Friday."
"What – here?" Amelia asked, surprised. "He's never done that before. Do you think everything's okay up at the school?"
"I hope so," said Remus, frowning. "I know the Ministry's putting some pressure on him."
After a rather disastrous series of public relations failures after the murder of Bartemius Crouch, the revelation that his son had escaped from Azkaban more than a decade before and the resurfacing of the darkest order of wizards the country had seen in a generation, the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had rather been feeling the heat from the public.
He had suppressed any mention of Voldemort's return that he could, mostly out of sheer terror. Because Dumbledore was publically trying to rally support for what amounted to an anti-Death Eater movement and wasn't afraid to tell people that yes, Voldemort was definitely back, Fudge was trying as hard as he could to discredit the headmaster. He was taking almost everything Dumbledore said as a personal affront, which meant that the school was under greater scrutiny than usual.
Harry, who had talked to the very sensible secretary of Witch Weekly, along with the other Triwizard Tournament Champions after the final, had been vocal in support of his headmaster (as had the others, to be fair) and because of the negative articles Rita Skeeter had penned about him earlier in the year it had been very easy for Fudge and his supporters to accuse him of grandstanding and attention-seeking.
It was ridiculous, and if Amelia let herself think about it for too long she gave herself a headache. She studied her husband's face, which was wrinkled with concern.
"You're worried he's going to ask you to step down again, aren't you," she guessed. "You know he'd never do that – even with all the extra publicity last year."
"I know," said Remus, trying to sound off-hand; Amelia knew him better than that.
She shook her head. "There's no use worrying about it now," she said, and he nodded.
"You're right," he admitted, and put an arm around her waist. "And even if he does, there's nothing I can do about it tonight." He kissed her hair. "Where would I be without you to steady me?"
"Living with Sirius in some kind of rerun of The Likely Lads?"
There was a brief pause. "I'm going to pretend that I know what you're talking about right now."
Amelia laughed. "Grab the glasses," she told him, and strolled out into the garden.
She carried the wine and their current books to the old bench that was tucked into the lee of the wall just outside the farmhouse. It was sheltered from the wind, surrounded by drooping bunches of roses, fronds of wisteria and trailing honeysuckle vines. Amelia had put out a few candles and lanterns, and there was sufficient light from the window of the book room for them to read, even in the gathering darkness.
They curled up together on the bench, wrapped up in a brightly coloured blanket, and unwound – properly – for the first time in days. Resting against his warm body, she felt Remus relax as he got properly into his book. Too tired to read, Amelia simply lay back, enjoying his proximity, and turned her eyes to the stars.
In the quiet of the evening, with little else in her consciousness beyond her own and Remus's breathing, she gazed up at the ancient suns and wondered, if they were paying any attention at all, what they made of it all. She thought of all the trillions of people who had ever sat and stared at the stars.
So many lives, and so many problems.
Many of them must have seemed insurmountable at the time. There had been other wars, and other dilemmas; the world was still turning and the stars were still burning.
Feeling oddly comforted, Amelia closed her eyes and allowed herself to gently drift into a peaceful sleep.
0o0
*DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. I am not kidding. Genuine medical emergency, that one!
