A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. Real life has been demanding for both my beta, excessivelyperky and myself. Rather than keep you all waiting longer, I'll post it as is, and make edits as need be. So, if you spot anything that needs fixing: mis-placed commas, awkward phrasing, physically impossible events... please let me know in the reviews, or send me a pm, or an email... you get the idea. As it is, this chapter would still be a garbled series of random events without Perky's nudges to keep them both talking. Any mistakes that remain are entirely my own.
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Chapter Twenty-five
The infirmary was lit with only the barest grey of pre-dawn light when a whispered voice sent Samuel scuttling behind the bed for cover.
"Prof-- I mean, Sna-- Erm, Dr. Crane..." Easy, Samuel, It's only the Potter brat. "We need to leave. Get dressed. Let's go."
A more alert Samuel stepped silently across the lawn with Potter, just past the Quidditch Pitch where Samuel stopped walking and folded his arms across his chest. "The Bloody Savior of the Wizarding World, is going to help me bolt, when Kingsley specifically told us to wait?"
"Remus is scarier than Kingsley," He-Who-Must-Never-Obey-Anyone-Ever offered as his explanation. He does have a point.
Samuel simply sighed, and, in his mind, contrasted the hazy grey dawn of Scotland, with the wide blue skies of a Montana evening. It wasn't a difficult choice. Let Kingsley send along his wand later, or never; he grabbed on to the Portkey.
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Samuel felt the tension seep out of his shoulders as he pressed the edge of the silver dagger against the sopophorous beans. This potion left him feeling especially competent. Even Slughorn hadn't worked out this trick for extracting the juice. It was his little secret--that he shared with Potter. He comforted himself with the knowledge that even with his notes, the brat wasn't anything more than barely competent around a cauldron.
He carefully cleaned the blade and set it to the back of the workspace. He didn't want John to burn himself again. He stopped for a moment, staring at the knife...
The door opened behind him. He recognized John's familiar step on the tile floor, and forced his hand to set the dagger back on the bench. The wolf cleared his throat softly. "I didn't realize you were so far behind on potions. You've been down here for hours."
"I'm caught up on my standard stock. This is just--sorry, it's a bit stupid, really." John tilted his head and settled into the padded chair in the corner, waiting for Samuel to finish. "Fine, Moody was being 'cute' and absorbing myself in imaginary brewing left me a measure of control over my own mind." He sighed, but continued. "The Hogwarts stores helped a bit, brewing in my own lab helped a bit more, but not nearly as much as following the precise steps that insulated me from the actual chaos."
John leaned forward slightly. "Are you okay? Honestly?"
Samuel knew he'd paused too long to offer trite assurances of his own mental stability. "I've given up the idea that I can simply 'buck up', if that's what you're asking, John." He let himself fold onto the small chair by the desk. "Being home helps. The rest will simply take time. Moody is hardly an expert in the art of torture, and I survived on my own in Maine, John. I'll be all right here." With you. "Does Potter need help with travel arrangements?"
"He managed the airlines with no problems. Maybe Amanda is quietly coaching him, but he also grew up Muggle. He should do well." John seemed confident in the fool's ability to interact closely with a Muggle socialite, and Samuel simply couldn't drop everything to fly to L.A. no matter how pressing his patient's legal claim.
"Ms. Jones may behave disingenuously when she is faced with her friends and her former 'party circuit.' Keeping her out of trouble can be Potter's opportunity to redress his own wandering ways."
John snorted, then instantly sobered. "And her children?"
"He knows that he has free reign of any and all means to ensure their safety." With the family's money and influence, it might very well take a wizard to secure it. "Fine, I'll say it. I have full confidence in Potter to do whatever is necessary to protect them. Happy?"
"Are you sure it's a good idea to send Harry and Troy to the same town? I know that Kingsley has blocked extradition for both of you, but Harry--"
"I will advise Troy of Potter's arrival and accommodations. If nothing else, I can be certain he'll look out for his own best interests. Did you not counsel me to trust the boy?"
John actually looked a bit green. "As long as you're certain..."
"In this, I am certain. Do I smell bacon?"
"Hmm, I suppose I could start breakfast early. Omelets in twenty minutes?"
Samuel smiled tightly as he began straightening the potions bench. Cauldrons and vials were cleaned and stacked, jars of ingredients returned to his store. At last, he let his fingers ghost over the silver dagger.
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Samuel looked at the table, and slid John's coffee to the setting on the right. Hopefully that would be enough... He scowled at the blue spikes of wildflowers in the center of the table.
John smiled at Samuel as he settled two plates on the table, paused, then switched the plates. "Cold?"
"What?" Samuel felt his heart kick to a faster cadence. He poked at the large pile of bacon on his plate.
"It just seems a bit warm to be wearing a sweater." John's face looked deliberately neutral.
Samuel kept his hand from drifting to his collar in the stifling heat. "Hmm? No, I'm comfortable." Slice the roots across the grain to maximize contact without bruising the flesh... "When do you meet with Alan this week?"
John closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before meeting Samuel's intense stare. "Tomorrow morning. No, I did not consume any alcohol while you were away. Nor did I, at any point, feel the need to imbibe. I am, however, fighting the strong desire to drag you to New York by your ear." John held up his hand to stave off any interruptions. "I am fighting the urge, because I trust you to manage your own affairs."
Samuel thought that the raised eyebrow conveyed that John's trust was nearing its limits. Just as well he'd worn the extra layers. With the full moon only four nights away, the wolf could likely smell fear, aside from all the rest... "I'm speaking with Jack again tomorrow. I think everyone is over-reacting a bit, but I am flattered by all the attention." He cleared his throat and seized a topic that would keep John off-balance. "Troy assures me he has not been calling." He looked again at the bowl in the center of the table. "Why are there blue flowers all over our home?" Two bones, John, but which one will you grab?
John looked surprised for a moment then gamely answered. "They keep appearing on the doorstep, every time I go out on an errand. You clearly have a young admirer who thinks you like blue-bonnets."
Samuel felt the denial die on his lips as he remembered what ten-year-old Susanna Martin had named her pig. Merlin, not again. He hadn't dared to enter the diner for several weeks after the fair last year. Fortunately, his thoughts were interrupted by a light jingle, moving down the hall.
"Good morning, Reggie," John greeted warmly. "Amanda."
Samuel sighed as the weight of yet another soul pressed down on his shoulders.
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Samuel had moved to the deck when the afternoon sun warmed the valley. It was actually hot rather than pleasant, but he wished to be out-of-doors as much as possible. He could feel the sweat dripping down the face of the phone and onto his hand. "...No, Carol, I am still not taking calls from Dr. West. Move on... I suppose it is wildfire season, is the evacuation plan still valid?... Perhaps you should do that... Just keep me updated." He rang off, skipping the pleasantries. Carol was a good administrator, but a prickly person. At least she knew how to deal with Samuel's snark.
Reaching for his glass, he scowled at the rattling of ice cubes. Empty. How fast had he quaffed the last glass? Light steps approached from behind and a new glass settled next to his hand. He had worried about slowing reflexes over the past few days, but in his moment of need, his hand slipped quickly to his other wrist. He pulled the blade, cunningly sheathed inside his sleeve, and twisted to face the threat.
Kingsley took a fast, instinctive step away and held his hands in a quelling, conciliatory gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." The Ex-Auror shifted into a defensive posture. "Do you always carry a silver dagger, Severus?"
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A/N: I have a small request in regards to reviews. Yes, I love getting them, the good, the bad, and the could'a been better. But as we come to the final wrap-up, I ask that we keep the reviews 'spoiler free', so if you have theories that you'd like to discuss or questions relating to later chapters, please leave them on my livejournal, kodiakmac(at)livejournal(dot)com, send me an email at kodiakmac(at)gmail(dot)com, or stop by www(dot)magicsanctum(dot)proboards105(dot)com. If you decide to sign up with magicsanctum and want to be sorted, just list Kodiak as the person who sent you. Big cheesey wink