It was two days before New Year's when Hagrid met an unusually quiet Amelia from Hogsmeade Station. There were dark circles under her eyes and she gave the impression of complete exhaustion; the usually spry and verbose young witch winced as she walked and the journey to the castle was a silent one.

Hermione, who had spent the day trying to dig up information for Hagrid's case, jumped up as Amelia entered her rooms and quickly removed her cousin's backpack; Amelia put up no resistance whatsoever.

"Could you tell Dumbledore I'm back please, Hermione?" she said quietly, without looking at her cousin.

Hermione, relieved at her cousin's return but aware of its likely cost, complied immediately, making a short detour to the dungeons.

When Severus reached Amelia's rooms she was still stood just inside the room, apparently staring into space.

"Amelia?" he asked, cautiously.

When she didn't respond he laid an arm upon her shoulder and gently led her to the sofa, gingerly pushing her down onto it; he frowned as she winced at the movement.

Hermione skidded back into the room at that instant and was set to making tea in a curious parody of Christmas day.

When hot beverage had been served to needy recipient Hermione sat beside her cousin on the sofa and Severus stood by the fireplace, aware that he was probably intruding on something private, his frown deepened by the flames.

"Is it done with?" Hermione asked, conscious of the Potions Master's presence.

Amelia nodded slowly, "For now." Her voice seemed very quiet in a room full of lengthening shadows.

"And Bea's ok?"

Another nod.

Hermione relaxed a little, satisfied; as her gaze travelled down she saw a deep patch of red blossoming on the sleeve of Amelia's shirt.

"What did he do to you?" she demanded, suddenly furious.

Severus was struck suddenly, somewhere in that part of the mind that ticks over when action is needed, by their resemblance to one another; both equally fierce and vulnerable, and both entirely unwilling to show it. His admiration for Hermione moved up a notch.

He moved forward and gently tapped his wand to her arm; slowly, the bleeding stopped.

"Are there any more?" he asked, trying to keep his own anger at his friend's treatment out of his voice.

Amelia indicated several other areas that were causing her pain and each time Severus carefully removed the wound.

Gently, he knelt before her.

"Amelia, tell me what is going on," he instructed, laying a hand delicately on her shoulder as she began to sob. Hermione held her hand tightly as she began to explain.

"I was engaged to this guy, Steve," she began, trying to steady her voice. "He was sweet, charming, thoughtful, the works – when my mother died he was a brick, he stuck around and picked me up each time I fell down."

Amelia went quiet and Hermione frowned, before turning slightly towards Severus. The younger witch explained quietly how Steve had become strange when Amelia had begun to recover, snapping and shouting at the slightest things.

"I think he liked being in control," Amelia managed, "and when I got better I took that away from him. Then, last summer…"

"I was staying with friends and I got a phone call from the hospital that Amelia had been badly hurt," Hermione continued, grimly. "Steve had just lost it. When I got there Mel was in intensive care, covered in scars and bruises, white as the sheets she was wrapped in… the doctors didn't know if she'd wake up." Hermione suddenly looked much older to Severus.

"I stayed with her… it was a couple of weeks before she woke up. I got most of my summer homework done in her hospital room… I wouldn't let Steve in when he came to visit…"

"When I woke up, Hermione was still there," added Amelia, "and Steve was waiting for us outside when we left. He kept saying he was really sorry and that it would never happen again," she gave a sort of strangled laugh. "I told Hermione to go and stay with Aunty Bea –"

"Which I only did because you shouted at me," Hermione added, stubbornly.

"- because I was afraid he'd hurt her." She turned to Hermione, "I couldn't see another way…"

"I understood," said Hermione, and held her cousin's arm a bit tighter.

"When he drove me home he kept saying how it was all my fault and that if I'd behaved he wouldn't have to act like that. I waited until he'd gone to the pub that night, called one of my mates and got out of there. Since then he's taken to harassing various family members and friends – Aunty Bea wrote to me because he was threatening her and smashing things on her farm. She didn't want the police involved for my sake…"

Hermione, despite herself, snorted. "Oh, because the police arriving is so much worse than being beaten to a pulp."

Worryingly, Amelia didn't even react.

"It's done with now," she said, patting Hermione on the hand. "Aunty Bea's safe and there's no way he can reach you here."

Hermione's expression suggested that this assessment of the situation was fairly removed from her own, but chose not to say anything, instead running for the kitchens to get some food for Amelia. As she did so Severus laid a hand on Amelia's shoulder; she glanced up at him.

"I would have gone with you," he said gently.

"It was something I had to do."

"I know."

They were silent for a moment, then:

"Next time, you won't be alone. Now, go and have a bath, or whatever it is you women do to relax." With that, he swept from the room.

Amelia was touched, she suspected that few people got to see this side of Snape, and felt oddly privileged because of it.

0o0o0o0

After a hot bath and a good meal Amelia felt much better, and played a few rounds of crib with her cousin until Hermione took her stuff back to her dormitory, satisfied that Amelia was going to be ok.

Amelia removed the festive decorations a little sadly, packing them into a box with a wave of her wand; as she flicked her iPod onto shuffle there came a knock on her door.

"It's open," she called, through the strains of 'All That Jazz'; Remus came in as she turned around, he gave her an uncertain smile, which she returned, a little tiredly.

"Severus said you were back."

Amelia raised and eyebrow, "I didn't realise you were on speaking terms."

"Well, when we can avoid it, but we're both worried about you…" he chuckled, "… for the first time since we were fifteen you have provided common-ground for non-abusive conversation."

Amelia took a small bow and then winced, "Glad to be of service. Ouch."

Remus frowned and sat beside her as she gingerly lowered herself onto the sofa.

She took in his expression and said quietly, "I've had worse."

"Yes," he replied, "that's what worries me."

Amelia afforded him a grimace and he decided that it would be politic to change the subject; she would explain her absence and injuries when she was ready, and not before.

"Thank you for the book, by the way – it's been a while since I read something Muggle."

Amelia smiled, "It's a good one, that, full of whimsy. Thanks for the play – it's my favourite Shakespeare."

Remus grinned.

"I thought it might be, somehow," he paused, still smiling but more serious now, "I meant every word, you know."

"I know," she replied quietly, and gently took his hand. "It meant a great deal."

He looked up at her and frowned.

"He really hurt you, didn't he." It wasn't a question; Remus had noticed a deep purple bruise adorning her wrist.

"Yes," she said, so quietly that he almost missed it; he pulled her into a hug.

"Next time he'll have to face me," he said, and she could feel the growl in his voice reverberate through his chest.

Changing the subject once more, he started, "I was less sure about this, however –" and he extracted a collar from the depths of his pocket. Waving it in Amelia's general direction he enquired, "Wolfy McWolferson?" expression almost serious.

Amelia laughed, and then winced again; "Yeah, sorry about that – I have these ideas pop into my head and I really shouldn't pay attention to them." She glanced at him conspiratorially, "I thought you might appreciate the joke."

Smiling, he replied, "Mostly, but, Wolfy McWolferson? What did I do to deserve that?" he was doing a good impression of a stung man and Amelia suppressed a giggle.

"Have you heard your name recently? I mean, you don't have to be a classicist to know that the founders of Rome were suckled by wolves; and then there's your surname, which is Latin for what?"

He laughed along with her and held up a hand in mock defeat, struck again that his old friends would certainly have approved of Amelia.

"Alright, alright. I hope you're not expecting me to wear it though!"

This image sent Amelia into a fresh wave of laughter – and wincing.

Remus decided that Amelia laughing was infinitely better than Amelia worrying, so he suggested that they put on another film. They cuddled up contentedly under a much loved woollen blanket and put on St Trinian's, Amelia saying that Remus needed a 'proper' education. A couple of hours and copious volume of eggnog later found them snoring gently in one another's arms in Amelia's bed, inhibitions and several layers of clothing discarded.

0o0o0o0

Amelia woke the next morning more comfortable than she had been in a long time; despite her injuries she was warm, contented and safely in someone's arms. This feeling of contentment lasted precisely until she opened her eyes, at which point the winter sunlight pouring in through a chink in her curtains decided to scorch its existence into her retinas.

Screwing her eyes shut and making a small noise of intense distress she attempted to escape the blinding daylight by turning over and burrowing back under her duvet but instead encountered an equally hung-over and increasingly embarrassed Remus Lupin.

Painfully, they squinted at one another for a moment before each scrambled for the clothes that they had abandoned the evening before.

"Er…"

"Yeah."

"…"

"Ow."

"Yeah."

Remus, now almost fully dressed (and a fetching shade of crimson), was attempting to cross to the door but was currently hampered by some pyjamas which had attached themselves to his ankles in a determined fashion. He bent down to disentangle himself and caught a glimpse of a delicate tattoo disappearing beneath an old jumper as he did so. Fighting the sudden, delicious urge to see the rest of the now concealed artwork he reached for the door handle and turned, if possible, an even deeper shade of red.

"Erm," he began, "I think this may be –"

Amelia snatched the offending item and hid it behind her.

Finding that he couldn't quite look up at her, he stuttered, "Um, yes, well…" and fled after another painfully awkward silence, leaving Amelia stood alone in her room wearing naught but a jumper and a pair of (reasonably frilly) knickers. With a feeling of resignation, she sat down on her bed, placing the offending (also reasonably frilly) item down beside her and swore quietly.

Then, carefully avoiding the glare of the sun from the window she placed her hands either side of her head and collapsed gently onto her bed as last night's rum caught up with her once more.

0o0o0o0

Sometime later, Hermione was sat at one end of the now-lonely Christmas table, picking at her lunch. She was largely being ignored by her two 'best friends' so she periodically glanced up at her teachers. Much to her amusement, many of them were wearing items of Amelia's knitwear – including Snape, who to her surprise afforded her a stiff nod. Her interest, and that of the Potion's Master, was piqued when her cousin entered and blearily sat down next to her; she appeared to be struggling to remain awake.

"Long night?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

Amelia turned to her cousin and glared, grimacing at the fireworks that this action set off behind her eyeballs. Hermione chuckled into her lasagne while Amelia proceeded to glare at her plate until food appeared. Still highly amused by her cousin's plight she caught Professor McGonagall's eye and both women fought off a smirk.

Amelia perked up a little after eating, even managing vague conversation. She, Madame Pomfrey and Hermione were discussing the evolutionary advantages of eyebrows when the door opened once more to admit a rather battered looking Remus Lupin.

Amelia felt herself colour slightly as curious pairs of eyes flicked between herself and the obviously hung-over professor; she slid down in her chair and returned to glaring at her pudding, grateful that the minimal number of students were currently present.

Hermione's mouth twitched as she watched Professor Lupin gingerly lower himself into a seat beside Harry, wincing as the boy wished him a good afternoon. She decided to strike up a conversation with Madame Pomfrey over Amelia's head as her cousin appeared to have entirely lost her vocabulary and sunk another few inches.

As the occupants of the table began the befuddled wandering that always follows a good meal, Hermione noticed Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in conversation with one another; to her curiosity and mild alarm they each glanced at Professor Lupin and Amelia before exchanging a meaningful look. As they were each led aside by their superiors she shared an altogether more perturbed look with Professor Snape before reluctantly leaving the Great Hall and heading for the Library.

Feeling frazzled and altogether put-upon, Amelia allowed Minerva to lead her to a corner of the Great Hall, where the older witch appraised her colleague.

"You're in love," she stated, simply.

Amelia, who had been expecting a dressing down for her altogether too obvious hangover, simply stared at her.

"Come again?"

"I don't know what's happened, or precisely why you and young Remus are now completely unable to look at one another without blushing, but this sort of thing has got to stop. It's rather letting the side down I'm afraid," she continued, sternly.

Amelia grimaced, she wasn't at all sure that she liked where this conversation was heading.

"I'm afraid I shall have to put my foot down, Miss Brown. This sort of behaviour is entirely inappropriate in front of the students."

Amelia had become certain that the grimace she was currently wearing was in imminent danger of making her face implode.

"So stop dithering and kiss the man, there's a good lass," Minerva finished.

Amelia felt her face slacken with shock as she ran that last sentence through her head a few times; she blinked at the Deputy Headmistress, as if hoping that this would help.

She smiled, and said more gently, "Seriously though, I've known Remus since he was a boy here and I can honestly say that I've never met a kinder or more lonely man. You make him smile more than he has done in years, you know, and you're obviously happier around him." She looked her colleague up and down and added, "So get on with it!" before sweeping out of the Great Hall.

Amelia, who realised that her mouth had been hanging open for some time now, closed it abruptly, and began to make her way back across to the table, where she'd left her jumper. As she turned back towards the door, she came face to frightened face with Remus, who had himself just escaped an equally astonishing conversation at the opposite end of the room.

They froze momentarily, before hurrying on their way, both an attractive shade of red and staring at the floor with absorbing interest.

Had Remus been paying attention, he would have seen Filius shake his head in an exasperated fashion and pass a galleon to a triumphant Pomona. Had Amelia been paying attention, she would have heard the muffled giggles of her Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress who were hiding just outside the door of the Great Hall and shaking with mirth.

Severus, who had followed Amelia out of the Great Hall, and who was feeling a great deal more observant, rolled his eyes at his senior colleagues.

"You really do enjoy fucking with people, don't you," he announced to the corridor at large before proceeding towards the entrance to the Dungeons. The laughter followed him all the way to his office, where he allowed himself a smirk; it had been pretty funny.

0o0o0o0

By the time Amelia reached her rooms (thanks to taking the scenic route) there was a small bottle of hangover cure alongside a note from Severus.

"The trick is to not let it touch the sides – S."

Taking this advice to heart, she downed the bottle in one, and almost immediately regretted it as her insides turned to fire. After an unpleasant few minutes she felt well enough to drag herself to the windowseat, in order to feel sorry for herself at a new elevation.

0o0

Remus was equally surprised to find an identical bottle several floors below; this note read:

"Don't imagine that this means that we're friends – S."

Having previously experienced this particular cure he made sure that a jug of water was nearby before downing the vial.

Feeling a great deal better he leant against the mantelpiece and warmed his hands. As he lost himself to his thoughts his treacherous mind wandered to the evening before and the feel of a creamy waist and hip beneath his sleeping hands. Blushing, he shook his head; he was relatively certain that nothing much had happened.

Other than waking up mostly naked next to a beautiful woman? His mind (he suspected the Wolf) supplied. A beautiful woman who didn't object to your hand being on that creamy waist… a beautiful woman who wouldn't object if that hand –

Frantically, he cast around for something else to think about, but his mind kept returning to that intriguing tattoo, and what it would feel like to trace it with his fingers…

Suddenly the recent and entirely unnerving conversation that he'd had with Dumbledore sprung irritatingly to mind:

"Just get on with it lad, she's clearly interested. You're letting the side down!"

He was attempting not to dwell on the downright lecherous look the older wizard had given him when providence provided relief in the form of a diminutive Charms professor.

Filius asked if he would be joining the traditional post-Christmas staff snowball fight and Remus agreed, much more quickly and emphatically than he had intended.

0o0

Finally managing to quench the flames in her stomach, Amelia too found herself being dragged out into the Grounds for a spot of winter cheer. Once the first snowball had been thrown, she really began to enjoy herself; there were no discernable teams, as in all good snowball fights, and magic had been forbidden. She had just finished pelting Hagrid with an expertly aimed volley and was turning her attention towards Severus (who was perpetrating a sneak attack on Poppy from behind a tree) when she heard someone come up behind her.

As she spun around to face her attacker a stray missile from the flurry that was Pomona and Dumbledore caught her off balance and she fell into her mysterious assailant. Together, they tumbled down the side of a small hill and came to rest in a snow drift at its base.

Shaking the snow out of her face Amelia realised that she was pinned into the drift by a laughing and out of breath Remus. She laughed too, all awkwardness forgot, until it dawned on her that Remus's nose was just inches from her own; the same thought had apparently occurred to him, as his laughter diminished and he leant in to kiss his lover.

At that precise moment, however, a stray snowball arced over their heads and embedded itself into the snow beside them. Remus stood, swiftly helping Amelia up from her prone and snow-drenched position as Poppy and Severus crested the hill.

"You alright?" Poppy called down as Amelia attempted to shake the snow out of her hair. Severus smirked down at them, and Amelia glared back.

"No harm done," Remus called back. Poppy nodded and dragged Severus back to the game.

Remus gave her a slight smile before they struggled up the hill together to rejoin the fray.

0o0

A good few hours (and icy coups) later, the staff of the foremost school of witchcraft and wizardry strode back into the castle and out of the darkening grounds, frozen but very chirpy.

Abandoning the others to Filch's grumbling about wet floors, Amelia headed up towards her rooms, chattering happily with Remus, who seemed to have forgotten that he was following her.

Shivering slightly, Remus made two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and placed them on the mantle, taking the opportunity to warm up a little by the fire. Amelia returned with an armful of clothes and towels, which she handed to her friend.

"They're old digging clothes from Uni', they should fit you." She looked at him, head tilted, "most of them are men's anyway." Pausing to take in his expression, she continued, "that is, if you want to stay for a bit – I mean, you don't have to leave if you don't –"

Amelia was pleasantly startled to discover that he'd reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm.

"Thank you," he said, quietly. "You seem to have a knack for making people – for making me feel right at home."

She could feel his thumb rubbing her shoulder through her sodden jumper. They looked at one another, blue eyes to grey, and felt the moment begin to stretch out forever. Gently, he leant into her and brushed his lips against hers; his lips felt dry, chapped against her own. His eyes fluttered closed as she tenderly nibbled at his lips, her hands winding their way up his back and tangling in his hair. His hands, which had been gripping her arms, slid down her sides and came to rest on her waist and back; she moaned into his mouth as he deepened their kiss, tasting the inexplicable sweetness of her tongue as she explored his mouth with equal fervour. The heat between them was delicious and the second moan that reverberated through his body forced him to firmly grip that wonderful arse and pull her still closer.

Somehow, her fingers had found their way up through the layers of snow-soaked jumper and onto his bare skin and she was running them up and down his spine, taunting, teasing. They broke apart then, his hands also having found a way inside her clothes, as they grappled with one another's sodden clothing; jumpers discarded he paused to take her in. Her skin was creamier even than he dimly recalled from the evening before, sheer perfection; he was aware that she was in turn appraising him. For a moment he was struck by the overwhelming need to flee before she realised how defective he was compared to her, but she stepped closer to him and began to trace his scars with her beautiful hands.

"So many…" she said, looking up at him, not with pity or disgust, as he'd been dreading, but with love. Her fingers came to rest above his heart and she felt its thudding beat; pulling him to her she kissed him tenderly, then took his hand gently in hers and led him to her bedroom. As she turned to close the door he caught sight once more of that intricate design that graced the area between her sacral dimples and was caught by the sudden urge to trace its pattern.

Amelia was about to turn back to him when she felt those long fingers begin to trace intricate circles on her back, sending delicious shivers through her body, his breath hot on her neck. Tantalisingly he slid his fingers up to her bra, slowly undoing the clasp and lightly cupping her breasts; she leaned back against him as he nibbled along her neck, causing her to gasp.

It was this small noise that did for him, really. Turning her around, he pushed her against the door, the wood cool at her back, and crushed his lips against hers. She matched his need grope for grope and moan for moan, pressing against him and sliding her leg up against him. She could feel him harden against her as she kissed his neck and jaw.

"Beautiful," he whispered into her ear as his lips passed by, melting her with the lightest of touches.

They made quick work of one another's remaining clothes as he carried her to the bed, laying her down with a growl. It occurred to Amelia as he trailed kisses like butterflies across her stomach, that she'd never heard anything so damned sexy in her entire life.

0o0o0o0

It was a good deal later that either of them considered the abandoned mugs atop the fireplace; Remus watched her from the door as she moved around her rooms, firelight lending an exquisite glow to her naked body.

"What?" she asked, walking back to her lover with refilled mugs.

"Just looking," he said, putting his mug down and pulling her back into his embrace. "I was thinking how bloody lucky I am that I got to see that tattoo."

Amelia laughed into his chest, "that's a hangover from my roadie days."

"I imagine you were quite the wild child," he grinned.

She gave him the kind of smile that made his knees weak.

"Stick around and you just might see how wild…"