BOOK 2: CHAPTER FOUR

"It's not as bad as I'd anticipated," Snape mused, as they gazed up at the stars, sparkling in the clear, black, Kansas sky.

Midnight was rapidly approaching over the abandoned corn field where they camped, and Amelia was relishing every last second. The stiff, frozen corn stalks whispered and swayed in the prairie wind like tall, thin phantoms. The moon shone bright and clear. Perfection.

Somewhere, not far from where they lay, and an owl passed over in a silent shadow.

"Isn't it wonderful?" she sighed. "Thank you so much for letting us come here. I couldn't leave without seeing it again, just once." Amelia's voice carried such gratitude, even Severus broke a smile.

"There's something about it," he agreed. "Did you see any ghosts this evening?"

"I can feel them. Isn't it scary? I feel so alive."

He nodded thoughtfully and kissed her hand.

Between them, their son was falling asleep, grunting and kicking on the pile of blankets Amelia had laid out. She smiled and kissed him at least a dozen times.

"I will say one thing in your favor: you're right about the light here. Hogwarts doesn't have that peculiar, orange light at sundown." He propped himself up on an elbow and dangled his pocket watch over the baby, who reached for it now and then.

Pulling the wool blankets higher, she sighed contentedly. The air was so cold and fresh, she could breathe it forever.

"He's the spitting image of you," she said softly, looking at her son in adoration and then at him.

"I can't say that I see it."

"Maybe we can conceive a child every year, right here," she dreamed.

"I knew you were worming your way into this subject. I just knew it. I felt it coming, like a tornado."

"You don't feel tornadoes coming, Severus. They just happen, suddenly, out of nowhere. Very…surprising."

"You're not very subtle. You're trying to be, but you're not."

Blushing, she kissed him. "The moon is out, it's a magical night, and we just made love in a haunted cornfield." She dissolved into self-conscious laughter and he sighed deeply.

Pulling her closer, he took her hand into his. The opal on her finger glowed and sparkled, even in the moonlit darkness.

"Kansas is lovely," he said gently, and kissed her forehead. "I suppose it wasn't so bad, your dragging us here."

Their tiny campfire soon flickered and disappeared, and darkness seeped into every corner the field; every row of corn; as the night deepened.

Nothing seemed to be awake now. The owl had settled down, the wind had dwindled and even crickets were sleeping.

Well, perhaps one thing was still awake. A small tortoise lumbered toward some destination or another, peeking out of its shell, in a nearby row.

-o -S- o-

"Is he finished yet?" Snape asked impatiently, fiddling with a couple of corn husks and frowning mildly.

Amelia leaned against him and yawned. "Almost. I'm sorry."

At last, Severus Jr. seemed satisfied with the three gallons of milk he must have consumed, and closed his eyes.

"He's in a stupor," Severus remarked. "He must weigh fifty pounds. Good God, all he does is eat."

"Yes, he does a lot of that," she agreed wearily, buttoning her blouse.

The sun was up, thinner and paler than it had been just a day ago.

They found a nearby restaurant she'd remembered, and soon became embroiled in the usual Sunday morning crowds. She'd had forgotten them, or perhaps had simply put them out of her mind; but now, amid the sea of paisley dresses and dark suits, unpleasant memories came rushing back like ants in summertime.

Oddly, something else, beside the crunch of people, felt uncomfortable about the diner, though Amelia couldn't quite put her finger on it. Then, she realized.

People were looking at them. They really were. She hadn't felt it for more than a year. But here it was.

Staring. Judging. Disapproving.

Disapproval, disapproval, disapproval. How she hated that word. She'd lived it most of her life, from the moment she had stepped off of her porch in the morning, until the moment she came through the door at night. And that was during the good times, after her father had left.

Today, she couldn't quite catch anyone looking; one never could. These people were experts. But when she would glance up from her son, or from Severus, she would see eyes suddenly blink, or dart another direction.

Severus wore a deep scowl, as he, too, tried to avoid eye contact with anyone. In all of their black, they must have looked like Halloween. That wasn't such a good thing. Halloween was about as welcome as a drought around these parts.

"Why, I don't believe it. Amelia Garrett," pierced a thin, penetrating voice from close behind.

Snape's eyes snapped to attention. He must have also caught the chilly inflection. With a nervous and very forced smile Amelia turned and instantly recognized the woman.

"Hello, Nancy," Amelia managed, paler by the second.

"My goodness, where have you been all this time? You up and disappeared on us, without even giving notice."

Amelia's expression darkened. "I…went on a long trip. There was a lot to do after my mother died."

"Apparently so. Are you coming back? It was very hard on us when you…vanished."

Severus froze, and his eyes deepened with dread and concern, as he watched a pane of glass near Amelia begin to quietly fracture from top to bottom.

"I…needed some time," Amelia replied, briefly as she could. "There was family business to attend to."

"I didn't think you had much family."

Amelia was finding it hard to breathe and was about to turn back, when Nancy went on.

"Oh, I'm sorry about your mother," she said, clearly as an obligatory thought. "I didn't know her, of course; none of us did."

Somehow, Amelia squeezed out another smile. Nancy studied her with a sharp eye. Amelia felt like she was standing before a firing squad, but there was one ray of hope. She felt Severus' warm fingers curling around hers.

"Nancy, let me introduce my husband, Severus. Severus, this is Nancy Johnson – the head nurse in my department. I mean, my former department."

Unsmiling, Snape barely nodded and did not extend his hand. Nancy's eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"My goodness," she remarked. "A new baby, too?"

Severus instinctively drew his son closer; or rather, farther from Nancy, while Amelia clenched his hand so tightly she knew it must be cutting off his circulation.

"This is our son, Severus Jr."

Nancy paused just long enough to make things more uncomfortable than they already were.

"What a year you've had," she said, or, perhaps, evaluated. "I'm glad you could move on with your life so quickly."

Silence fell like a bomb and Amelia thought she was going to be sick. Severus pulled her a step backward, and any trace of color in his face disappeared.

"Let's go," he said softly, but she didn't hear.

"I hadn't looked at it that way," she replied unevenly. The crack in the pane splintered still further, until it ran nearly top to bottom.

"He's big. How much did he weigh?" Nancy asked pointedly.

Amelia took a breath.

"Ten pounds."

"Good heavens, did you overeat?"

"No. Quite the opposite, in the beginning."

"The opposite? You know poor nutrition causes low birth weight. You're breast feeding, of course."

"Yes."

"I might get away with killing her, being in America," he whispered.

But Amelia knew there were other powers just as strong – and living in Kansas. Not even that curse could stop Nancy, once she'd started. She was infamous for her "how to be a good mother" liturgy.

Hundreds of new mothers had been terrified by Nancy's litany of "correct ways" to care for a baby. Amelia had had to console more than her share.

"Gestational Diabetes?"

"No. Everything was fine. My husband mixed me a wonderful nutrition shake."

Nancy glanced at Severus. "Are you a pharmacist?"

"No. I'm a wizard and I live in a castle."

"Did they have to do a C-section?" She looked back toward Amelia.

"I once belonged to belong to a select group of wizards who specialized in the torture and murder of obnoxious people who asked too many questions; particularly, insufferable nurses."

"Why didn't you have us deliver him?" Nancy continued.

"Why does everyone ignore me?" Severus asked his son. "It's the curse of my life."

Amelia battled a smile and squeezed his hand. "I don't ignore you, but don't make me laugh right now," she pleaded in a whisper.

"I'm always right in the end, but nobody remembers. Why do I even exist?" he went on.

"Stop it," she begged, in another whisper. "It's bad enough without you joking."

But she knew he'd made the decision to harass Nancy, and nothing would stop him until he got to her.

Amelia turned her attention back to Nancy. "I had a very good doctor, Nancy. And he wasn't huge; the doctor was very pleased."

Nancy paused, still unimpressed.

"I wasn't there," Severus said dryly.

Oh God. He did it. That would get to her. Nancy glared at him. Amelia felt sick.

"You weren't there?" Nancy gaped. "You made her go through the delivery of a ten-pound baby alone?"

"It's undignified and, quite frankly, beneath me."

Well, that was it. He'd done it. She knew he would, and he did. Amelia awaited the explosion. Nancy's mouth fell open.

God, she was exhausted and it was only nine in the morning. Her head was throbbing. Snape's eyes were snapping with mirth while Nancy's were crackling with indignation.

And then, they were granted a miracle. They were called to be seated.

"I can't believe you said all that to her," Amelia said in a chiding tone, but her eyes were brimming with admiration.

"I shut her up, didn't I?"

"I love you so much. You're the bravest man I've ever met. You're my knight in shining, black armor."

"Yes, well, you needed one. I didn't know Dementors wore horrid paisley dresses and lived in Topeka. I think we just found a wife for You-Know-Who."

The warmth of his wonderful voice was like a gift from heaven. It seemed to bring her through the past and the criticism, and the darkness and back to him, and to their son, and to hope.

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