They sat in silence, the parchment holding them together like an invisible wire. Finally, knowing Dumbledore was waiting for one of them to speak and knowing that Severus wouldn't be the one to break the silence, Remus spoke.
"You think it's her, don't you? Amadea?"
"It is more important to know what each of you thinks," Dumbledore replied cryptically.
Severus stared fixedly at the weakly pulsing orange light and shoved himself back in his seat as though to be farther away from it. In truth, he was too afraid to hope it might actually be her. He had shed his vulnerabilities long ago and had no wish to pick them back up.
"I can't see how it would be anyone else," Remus admitted. He spoke slowly, trying to process what it could mean, and especially what it could mean for him.
"If it is her—and I doubt it is," Severus said, his lip curled, "Then she's as clever as she ever was. Not signing it is a good way to keep herself concealed, but whoever this message is from knows enough details to make us think of Dea—Amadea," he corrected himself.
"Precisely why I wished for both of you to see it," Dumbledore said, not missing the flash in Severus's eyes that indicated his annoyance at Remus's inclusion. Like it or not, however, the werewolf had been bound to her when she healed him.
But Severus didn't know that, and Albus wasn't about to add another link in the chain of envy.
"I am sending you both into Hogsmeade to meet the sender of this letter," he said briskly. "I have sent a reply telling the sender to be outside the Three Broomsticks tomorrow evening. Remus, you will stay close to the building. Severus, I wish for you to take a position nearby. If a Death Eater approaches Remus, surely you will be able to give some sort of signal."
"Surely," Severus said dryly, his stomach twisting into knots. It wasn't his place to point out the risks to Albus.
"I think I should meet with the rest of the Order now," Dumbledore said, standing. "And if I'm lucky, perhaps there are more of those chocolate biscuits Molly brought." He walked out of the room with a determined air, leaving the two men alone. Though tension crowded them, memories clouded the air between them, words would not come, and the two sat in silence, one already believing and the other scared to believe.
~~~
Remus ran a hand through his grey-streaked hair, trying not to shoot glances at the tall, black-clad man keeping watch across the street. Severus looked as out of place as a Dementor at a tea party, but no one seemed to notice him standing there.
The time Dumbledore had indicated came and passed, leaving a tired werewolf and an irate professor wondering what was going on. Finally, Remus stood and crossed to the shop where Snape stood and pretended to window-shop. "She's not coming," he said under his breath, bending down to have a closer look at the broom on display.
"She's dead, of course she's not coming," Snape said nastily, masking the disappointment he didn't want to feel.
"We'll wait a few more minutes," Remus decided, turning to go back to his outdoor seat. He sat back, barely resisting the urge to close his eyes, and saw a bird flit to the roof of the Three Broomsticks, its wings a bright orange in the evening sun. Its wings were a chocolaty brown, and a single white feather streaked its left wing.
Raising an eyebrow and looking at Snape, Remus raised a finger toward the roof and mouthed "Lark." But Snape was already looking at the bird, his eyes wide with something akin to fear.
No sooner had Remus pointed the winged creature out than it had flown down and perched on the chair across from him, tilting its head and regarding him with dark eyes. Lazily, he made as though to reach for his tea, then snatched his wand and pointed it at the bird. Before it could fly, he had muttered an incantation forcing it to reveal itself.
The bird hopped from the back of the chair onto the seat just as everything flashed, limbs sprouting and figure stretching.
A woman sat where the bird had landed, her dark hair sweeping straight past her shoulders, a single band of grey, almost white hair streaking down the left side. Her dark eyes had aged immeasurably over the years, the defensive posture replaced by a strong one. A thin line of pale scar tissue divided one of her eyebrows, but the full mouth was smiling in the same smile.
"Well," she said brightly, raising her eyes to the sky. "Don't you know better than to rush a girl's entrance?"
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she promptly slumped face-first onto the table, unconscious.
Remus's face lost all color and he glanced at his wand uncertainly. Surely nothing he had done—
Severus was already at the table, a pale, strong hand pressed to the side of her neck.
"I didn't—" Remus started to defend himself when Severus shook his head.
"I know you didn't do anything. She did it to herself." And it had pained him into movement to see her stricken, to see her fall to the table with a weakness she'd brought on herself. He'd thought her dead, and though she wasn't in the best shape, she was certainly alive.
Almost twenty years, and she'd somehow been alive the entire time. He couldn't help but feel a little angry.
"She looked fine!" Remus insisted, leaning across the table and brushing the hair out of her face to better look at her.
Severus barely resisted the urge to shove Remus's hand away from her face, then stepped back himself. "Because looks are often accurate indicators," he scoffed. "She's not powerful enough to be an Animagus." She never had been, he recalled. He hissed sharply as the Dark Mark on his arm burned fiercely. "Leave," he said through clenched teeth. "Take her to the house."
Remus watched as the former Death Eater grasped at his arm, then dug into his robe. "Here," he said quickly, setting a bottle on the table. "Give her that. I have to go." And with that, he Disapparated.
Remus rubbed a hand down his face and cast a glance at Amadea. She looked, he thought, surprisingly sound for a woman who had been dead for nearly twenty years. "All right, then," he said wearily, crossing to stand at her side. He lifted her head with one hand, using the other to slap her cheeks lightly. "Up you go." When she blinked owlishly, he uncorked the bottle Severus had left and trustingly tipped it to her lips.
She withdrew immediately, her face screwed up. "That tastes like bog water," she said, rubbing the back of her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened and she kept her hand where it was, covering her now agape mouth. "Oh dear heavens," she said, standing and scrambling unsteadily back from the table. "It's you!"
"It can hardly be anyone else," Remus said, wondering how a woman back from the dead could be shocked at anyone or anything.
"Ohh," she said, drawing it out like a soft sigh. "Well, then, it seems you must have turned out on the side of good, after all." She smiled then, her smile genuine rather than cheeky. "Well done." She hadn't been able to see him all that well in her Animagus form—bird eyesight, though often praised, left quite something to be desired.
"As fascinating as this is—" And it really was, he judged, "We cannot stay here, it is not safe." Though he did not know precisely what or who he was looking for, Remus turned and surveyed the town around them.
"Not safe? It's Hogsmeade, it can't have changed all that much." The flat American accent was still there, stronger than ever, and it made him want to ask more questions. Instead, he said the only thing he could think of that would get her moving—he told her the truth.
"It's not safe because Severus said it wasn't safe." And at the Potions teacher's name, her eyes widened and grew immediately darker as they flitted away from his own.
"Fine," she said quietly. "Then we'll go."