Out of the Clear Blue Sky
Chapter Eleven - Back From The Dead
A/N: Here we are. Some events from the last chapter have unexpected consequences.
When Minerva knocked on Xiomara's door an hour later, she wasn't surprised when Severus was the one who answered it, dressed only in his trousers. "Yes, Minerva?"
"Is Xiomara awake?" Minerva asked, sweeping past the Potions Master into the sitting room.
Severus nodded and disappeared into the bedroom without a word. A few moments later, Xiomara appeared, wearing the shirt Severus had been wearing earlier. "Min? What is it?"
"There's someone in the hospital wing," Minerva told her friend. "Someone you need to see."
Xiomara eyed Minerva suspiciously, but said nothing as she turned and disappeared into the bedroom once more. When she reappeared, she was fully dressed in her usual robes. "Let's go, Min."
The two witches left Xiomara's quarters and headed to the hospital wing.
* * *
Tracey stormed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her. "I can't believe this!" She stomped over to her desk, dress robes billowing around her. "What right does he have to do that to her?" Yanking off the outer robe, she threw it onto her couch and plopped herself down in her desk chair. She yanked a drawer open and pulled out a stack of parchment, her favorite quill, and a bottle of ink that shimmered in different shades of blue. "He's going to regret this. I'll make sure of it." Dipping her quill into the inkbottle, she began to write, her quill scratching furiously across the parchment.
* * *
Xiomara stopped short in the doorway to the hospital wing, yellow eyes wide. They took in the gaunt man asleep in the bed with Sylvia nearby, and then she spun to face Minerva. "Min, this isn't funny!"
"This isn't a joke, 'Mara," Minerva answered quietly, turning the smaller witch and pushing her towards the bed. "That's really Stewart."
"Stewart is dead!" Xiomara hissed, digging her heels in. "He died years ago."
"No, 'Mara." The voice was weak and hoarse, but recognizable all the same. "I'm very much alive."
A choked sob escaping her, Xiomara ran from the hospital wing. Minerva sighed and a silver streak wasn't far behind the flight instructor. Xiomara stumbled to a stop several floors down, heaving with sobs. A silver tabby approached silently and tentatively rubbed her head against the petite witch's side. She sniffled when she realized who it was. Her voice was tortured when she spoke, "Min, do have any idea what this is doing to me?"
The Transfiguration instructor took the cat's place at Xiomara's side, angular features sympathetic. "No, 'Mara, I don't, but you need to talk with Stewart."
"About what, Min?" Xiomara demanded, swiping at her tear tracks with the heel of her hand. "I moved on. Has he?"
Minerva shook her head sadly. "No, he hasn't, but you two need to work through this."
Xiomara glared at her friend through her tears. "Min, I can't."
Minerva gripped her friend's shoulders. "'Mara, the longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be."
"What about Sev?" Xiomara demanded, her tears forgotten. "What's he going to think?"
"He's going to know that this is a necessity." The calm, silky soft voice made both women turn. Xiomara sprang to her feet and rushed into the ebony- clad Potions Master's arms. He gathered her close as she buried her face in the front of his robes. "Xio, you must speak with Stewart. Otherwise, nothing will be resolved between the two of you."
* * *
Albus knocked on the door to his daughter's rooms. After a moment, she bade him enter and he did so, opening the door just enough to slip inside. Closing the door behind him, he looked around. The sitting room now reflected the tastes of the assistant Transfiguration professor, who happened to be sitting in front of the fire. The outer robe she'd worn to the wedding was draped over the back of the sofa and her shoes lay haphazardly on the floor by the desk. "Tracey?"
She looked up from the fire and, for a moment, Albus thought there were flames in her bright blue eyes, but then he realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses and the fire was reflected in her eyes. "Hello, Father."
He indicated the sofa. "May I sit?"
She nodded, her knees drawn up to her chest. "Sure."
He sat down beside her on the sofa. "Minerva and Sarai said they couldn't find you for several hours. What happened?"
Tracey sighed, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I left the reception not long after you, 'Mara, Professor Snape, and Griffith did. I didn't get far before a sack was thrown over my head and carried off. My kidnapper turned out to be Poppy's brother. He originally intended to lure you to him, but I managed to convince him to come to Hogwarts instead."
"That was good thinking on your part, Tracey," he told her quietly. "Although I doubt Stewart would have truly wished to hurt you."
She nodded quietly. "I understand that, but I couldn't be sure."
He nodded in response. "Yes, you're remarkably level-headed, Tracey."
She blushed, ducking her head. "Thank you, Father."
"There's no need for thanks, Tracey," he told her softly. "It's true."
She shrugged. "Not if you saw the letter I just wrote to Griffith."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow and gazed at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "What do you mean?"
"Let's just say I didn't keep a cool head when I wrote it," she admitted softly, her flush of embarrassment deepening.
"Ah." He nodded in response. "I understand."
* * *
"Stewart?"
His blue eyes snapped open and he smiled when he saw who had addressed him. "Ro, Hi." His gaze moved to the man standing at her shoulder. "Severus."
"Stewart." Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It is good to see that you are not dead after all."
"Thank you." Stewart's gaze moved back to the petite flight instructor. "Ro? We need to talk. In private."
She nodded and glanced up at the dark-haired Potions Master. "Sev?"
He nodded in response, squeezing her shoulder before turning and leaving. Stewart watched him go thoughtfully. "I take it you're dating Severus?"
She looked at him, startled. "How did you guess?"
"Albus said something about Griffith not approving the man you're dating right now," Stewart explained softly, the thought of Xiomara with another man causing a pang in the vicinity of his heart. "Judging by his actions, I'd say Severus is the lucky man."
Xiomara nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, he is. I wish it was you, but, well, you were dead."
Stewart nodded back, feeling the backs of his eyes burn from unshed tears. "I understand." He took a deep breath and, every word hurting him, said, "If he makes you happy, Ro, then I won't get in your way."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Do you really mean that, Stew?"
He nodded, his heart aching. "Yes, I do, Ro. I just want you to be happy. Even if that means another man is the lucky one."
She nodded slowly. "Alright, but _we'll_ still be friends, won't we?"
"Of course." He reached out and grasped her hand in his. "If I can't have your love, then I'll be content with your friendship."
"Thank you, Stew. That means a lot to me." She leaned forward and hugged him.
He returned the hug. When she had reseated herself, he made himself comfortable in the bed. "So, tell me all about what I've missed."
Nodding, Xiomara began to talk.
* * *
Griffith Hooch sat in front of the fire, brooding. How could his sister do this to him? How could she stand up for that greasy-haired bastard? A tapping sound at the window distracted him. Getting up, he stumbled over to the window and peered out into the twilight. An owl was perched on the sill, an envelope in its beak. He groaned and opened the window to let the owl in. It dropped the envelope into his outstretched hand and swooped over to perch on the arm of the couch.
Not even bothering to look at who'd sent the letter, he walked over to the fireplace to destroy the letter. Before he could toss it into the fire, the owl rose with a screech and began flapping around his head. Griffith stumbled back and landed in an ungainly heap on the couch. Satisfied, the owl returned to the arm of the couch.
"Stupid bird," he muttered, glaring at the owl as he sorted himself out. The owl watch with calm amber eyes as he rose unsteadily to his feet. When he made to the throw the letter into the fire, the owl again backed him away from the fireplace.
"Alright, alright," he growled, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I'll read the bloody letter."
He opened the envelope and extracted the letter within.
_Griffith Hooch,
You are a bloody idiot! Do you have any idea how much you're hurting your sister? You've been gone five years, things won't be the same. If Professor Snape makes her happy, then don't get in the way! She wants you to be happy for her, even if you don't approve of the man. Please, Griffith, don't do this to her.
Oh, something else you might want to know: Stewart Pomfrey is *not* dead. He's alive and in the hospital wing right now. I'm not sure who'll be keeping an eye on him, since Poppy is on her honeymoon, but I'm sure there'll be someone there.
Sincerely, Tracey Cooper._
* * *
Stewart stared at her with wide eyes. "Albus said you were _dating_ him."
Xiomara sighed. "Dumbledore is the only other one who knows, Stew; no one else does. He's agreed to keep our secret for now. I hope we can trust you to keep quiet about this?"
Stewart nodded. "Yes, you can. Am I the first you've told?"
Xiomara blushed and nodded. "Yes. Well, aside from Dumbledore and Alastor. They were the only other ones there."
Stewart sighed. "I wish you both the best of luck."
"Thank you, Stew." She leaned forward and hugged him.
"You're welcome, Ro." He returned the hug gladly, wondering when his heart would stop hurting.
* * *
When he entered his office, Albus was surprised to find Minerva McGonagall waiting for him. "Minerva."
"Albus," she returned the greeting, standing by his desk. "Did you speak with Miss Cooper?"
He nodded tiredly. "Did you speak with Xiomara?"
She nodded in return, studying him closely. "Is something wrong, Albus?"
He sighed and gestured to the door to his private study. Without a word, she preceded him into it and to the squashy armchairs placed in front of the already-roaring fire. Once she had seated herself, he sat down as well. After a long moment, he spoke. "I had not expected fatherhood to be so draining, my dear."
Minerva looked surprised. "How do you mean, Albus?"
"When I thought I might lose Tracey, I was filled with a fear I had not expected," he explained softly, gazing into the fire. "It was almost as if someone had wrenched my heart out of my chest."
Minerva listened silently, feeling as if someone had stabbed a knife into her chest and was now twisting it. With difficulty, she, too, spoke. "It means you truly care for her, Albus. You are acting much as my father would."
"Yes," Albus agreed. "I remember." He shook himself and turned to Minerva. "How did your talk with Xiomara go?"
"She is speaking with Stewart even now," Minerva reported, glad for the distraction. "Although I fear he will be hurt no matter how gentle she is."
Albus nodded, picturing himself in a similar situation. "I imagine he would." She eyed him curiously, but said nothing. "How about a game of chess, my dear?"
"That sounds perfect."
* * *
Stewart waited until the door to the hospital wing had swung shut behind Xiomara before burying his face in his hands and letting the tears he'd been holding back flow. Though he sat silent and still, the tears flowed down his gaunt face nonetheless. When a hand touched his shoulder, he jumped and looked up, to meet a pair of clear blue eyes. They held sympathy, but not pity. He buried his face in Sylvia's shoulder and she held him as his tears continued to flow. He didn't see the pain etched on her face as she held him. If he had, he would have wondered if more than one of his sister's friends had had crushes on him.
* * *
Poppy woke to sunlight streaming into the cottage. She frowned for a moment, disoriented, before the warmth at her back and the weight of her husband's (such a wonderful word!) arm around her waist. Turning in his arms, she studied his sleeping face. Though seamed with scars now, she still remembered how it had looked when they'd gone to school together. He'd been a rather handsome boy and had grown into a handsome man. She wouldn't deny that the scars had detracted from his physical good looks, but now she only saw the handsome soul beneath. The gentle, caring soul that had yearned for the care and love his family had never given him. The soul that hid behind a wall of gruffness. The soul that she'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
As she gazed upon him, he stirred and murmured something in his sleep. It almost sounded like her name. She smiled to herself and stroked his face. "My own Alastor..."
At her voice, he stirred again and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when he saw her. "Good morning, my lovely wife..."
She smiled back. "Good morning, my wonderful husband."
When she tilted her head up to kiss him, he pulled her close and deepened it. She moaned into his mouth, her arms sliding around him to hold him close. He groaned at her touch, ending the kiss to begin pressing kisses to her forehead and cheeks. She caressed his back as she accepted his kisses, her fingers running easily over the numerous scars. It was a long time before either thought of eating breakfast or even getting up out of bed.
* * *
"Here you are, Stewart," Sylvia smiled as she set the tray of food on his lap. "Breakfast."
"Thank you, Sylvia," he smiled up at the plump witch and began to eat. After a moment, he looked over at the Herbology professor, who'd sat in a chair beside the bed. "Aren't you going to eat?"
She shook her head. "No, I ate in the Great Hall."
He nodded. "Won't you eat a little bit, though? So I won't feel like such a pig?"
She blinked and nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Alright."
He smiled and conjured up a fork for her. She moved from the chair to sit by his knee on the bed so she could reach the food more easily. Together, they made short work of the food and she carried the empty dishes from the room. He sighed and laid back against the pillows. He longed to see his sister and talk with her, but she and her new husband weren't due back at Hogwarts until that evening. It wasn't long until the sleeping draught that had been slipped into his food took effect and put him to sleep.
* * *
Poppy and Alastor were enjoying the afternoon by playing Go Fish when a head appeared in the fireplace. "Albus, what is it?"
"Alastor, Poppy, I'm afraid you need to cut your honeymoon short," Albus told them apologetically. "There's been an attack on Hogsmeade."
Husband and wife exchanged glances. "We'll be there as soon as we can, Albus."
"That's all I ask, Alastor." Albus nodded to both and his head disappeared from the fire.
Poppy was in her husband's arms moments later. "Oh, Alastor, it's just like last time, isn't it?"
"No, Poppy," he answered quietly. "Last time, we weren't prepared. Now, we are."
She nodded and they shared an intense kiss before parting to go and begin packing.
* * *
"I want to help, Dumbledore," Stewart stated stubbornly, upon hearing the news.
"No, Stewart," Albus countered. "You need to remain here in the hospital wing and regain your strength."
"I've done this before," Stewart pointed out, almost desperately. "I have experience."
"Stewart," Minerva stepped in front of her friend and gazed sternly into his eyes. "You are in no condition to help clean up. Stay here and recuperate."
He sighed and threw up his hands, defeated. "Very well, Min. I'll stay."
"Good." She stepped back to stand beside Albus. "We don't know when we'll be back."
Stewart nodded and watched the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress stride from the hospital wing. Heaving a sigh of frustration, he flopped onto the bed he'd been confined to and stared up at the ceiling. "Hmm, that ceiling really needs a fresco." A sound at the doorway distracted him and he looked over at it. "Hello, Sylvia."
The plump witch smiled and slipped into the room. "Hello, Stew." Entering the hospital wing, she walked over and sat down in a chair beside his bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Aside from frustrated?" he asked. She nodded. "Better, actually. It's nice to have actual food in my stomach."
She smiled softly at that. "Yes, I imagine it would be."
* * *
It was almost dawn by the time Alastor and Poppy returned to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. The mediwitch was virtually dead on her feet, but still insisted on checking the hospital wing before going to bed. Both froze when they saw the figure sleeping in one of the beds. She approached the bed timidly and touched one of the wasted hands resting on top of the sheet. "Stewart?"
The figure stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He smiled when he saw who stood beside his bed. "Hello, Poppy." His gaze moved to the man standing beside her and his eyes widened. "Alastor?" The retired auror merely nodded, his hand tight around his walking stick.
Poppy was trembling from a combination of fatigue and shock. "Y-you're dead, Stewart. Th-they said you were dead."
"They were wrong," Stewart answered simply. "Look, you're both tired. Why don't you go to bed and we'll talk in the morning?"
Poppy recognized the tone of his voice as being the one that brooked no refusal and nodded, biting her lip against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Can I have a hug at least?"
He grinned and opened his arms. She fell into them and brother and sister hugged each other tightly, happy tears streaming down both faces.
* * *
Tracey was awakened by a tapping sound on her window. Her father had refused to allow her to go to Hogsmeade and she'd tossed and turned for a couple hours before she finally fell asleep. Dragging herself from the bed, she pulled her dressing gown on and opened the window. Her owl swooped in, dropping a letter into her open hand. "Thank you, Sheila." The owl hooted softly and, nipping Tracey's fingers, swooped back out. Tracey closed the window behind the owl and walked over to the bed. She picked up her glasses and slipped them on before opening the letter.
_Miss Cooper,
What right do you have to write a letter like that? We only met on Friday, for Godric's sake! What I do and who I stay in contact with is *my* business, *not* yours. What do you know about Snape? Nothing, I imagine. You don't know what he's done or where he's been. All you know of him is that he teaches Potions at Hogwarts. Of course I want Ro to be happy. I just don't think she could be happy with Snape. She could do better than *him*.
And what's this nonsense about Stewart? He died in the attack that took Alastor's eye and leg fifteen years ago. Don't play games with me. It won't work.
Cordially, Griffith Hooch_
The redhead snorted. It looked like she had her work cut out for her.
* * *
"Not a bad idea to attack Hogsmeade, but you've made _my_ part that much more difficult."
"You ssaid I wass free to do as I wished," he hissed at his partner. "Sso long as I did nothing on Hallowe'en."
The other sighed. "So I did. Try to think a little more clearly. He's bound to cancel all trips to Hogsmeade after this attack. Security at the castle was tightened after the incident at the Welcome Feast. It would have been easy to attack him if he'd visited Hogsmeade."
"He sstill might," Voldemort countered. "There iss no doubt that he will offer hiss aid with the relief effortss."
A/N2: There will be a Masquerade Ball as a result of the attack on Hogsmeade. I need costume ideas for the staff members. I already know what Alastor, Poppy, and Tracey will go as, but none of the others. Just include your suggestions in your review, please.
Chapter Eleven - Back From The Dead
A/N: Here we are. Some events from the last chapter have unexpected consequences.
When Minerva knocked on Xiomara's door an hour later, she wasn't surprised when Severus was the one who answered it, dressed only in his trousers. "Yes, Minerva?"
"Is Xiomara awake?" Minerva asked, sweeping past the Potions Master into the sitting room.
Severus nodded and disappeared into the bedroom without a word. A few moments later, Xiomara appeared, wearing the shirt Severus had been wearing earlier. "Min? What is it?"
"There's someone in the hospital wing," Minerva told her friend. "Someone you need to see."
Xiomara eyed Minerva suspiciously, but said nothing as she turned and disappeared into the bedroom once more. When she reappeared, she was fully dressed in her usual robes. "Let's go, Min."
The two witches left Xiomara's quarters and headed to the hospital wing.
* * *
Tracey stormed into her room and slammed the door shut behind her. "I can't believe this!" She stomped over to her desk, dress robes billowing around her. "What right does he have to do that to her?" Yanking off the outer robe, she threw it onto her couch and plopped herself down in her desk chair. She yanked a drawer open and pulled out a stack of parchment, her favorite quill, and a bottle of ink that shimmered in different shades of blue. "He's going to regret this. I'll make sure of it." Dipping her quill into the inkbottle, she began to write, her quill scratching furiously across the parchment.
* * *
Xiomara stopped short in the doorway to the hospital wing, yellow eyes wide. They took in the gaunt man asleep in the bed with Sylvia nearby, and then she spun to face Minerva. "Min, this isn't funny!"
"This isn't a joke, 'Mara," Minerva answered quietly, turning the smaller witch and pushing her towards the bed. "That's really Stewart."
"Stewart is dead!" Xiomara hissed, digging her heels in. "He died years ago."
"No, 'Mara." The voice was weak and hoarse, but recognizable all the same. "I'm very much alive."
A choked sob escaping her, Xiomara ran from the hospital wing. Minerva sighed and a silver streak wasn't far behind the flight instructor. Xiomara stumbled to a stop several floors down, heaving with sobs. A silver tabby approached silently and tentatively rubbed her head against the petite witch's side. She sniffled when she realized who it was. Her voice was tortured when she spoke, "Min, do have any idea what this is doing to me?"
The Transfiguration instructor took the cat's place at Xiomara's side, angular features sympathetic. "No, 'Mara, I don't, but you need to talk with Stewart."
"About what, Min?" Xiomara demanded, swiping at her tear tracks with the heel of her hand. "I moved on. Has he?"
Minerva shook her head sadly. "No, he hasn't, but you two need to work through this."
Xiomara glared at her friend through her tears. "Min, I can't."
Minerva gripped her friend's shoulders. "'Mara, the longer you put it off, the harder it's going to be."
"What about Sev?" Xiomara demanded, her tears forgotten. "What's he going to think?"
"He's going to know that this is a necessity." The calm, silky soft voice made both women turn. Xiomara sprang to her feet and rushed into the ebony- clad Potions Master's arms. He gathered her close as she buried her face in the front of his robes. "Xio, you must speak with Stewart. Otherwise, nothing will be resolved between the two of you."
* * *
Albus knocked on the door to his daughter's rooms. After a moment, she bade him enter and he did so, opening the door just enough to slip inside. Closing the door behind him, he looked around. The sitting room now reflected the tastes of the assistant Transfiguration professor, who happened to be sitting in front of the fire. The outer robe she'd worn to the wedding was draped over the back of the sofa and her shoes lay haphazardly on the floor by the desk. "Tracey?"
She looked up from the fire and, for a moment, Albus thought there were flames in her bright blue eyes, but then he realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses and the fire was reflected in her eyes. "Hello, Father."
He indicated the sofa. "May I sit?"
She nodded, her knees drawn up to her chest. "Sure."
He sat down beside her on the sofa. "Minerva and Sarai said they couldn't find you for several hours. What happened?"
Tracey sighed, wrapping her arms around her legs. "I left the reception not long after you, 'Mara, Professor Snape, and Griffith did. I didn't get far before a sack was thrown over my head and carried off. My kidnapper turned out to be Poppy's brother. He originally intended to lure you to him, but I managed to convince him to come to Hogwarts instead."
"That was good thinking on your part, Tracey," he told her quietly. "Although I doubt Stewart would have truly wished to hurt you."
She nodded quietly. "I understand that, but I couldn't be sure."
He nodded in response. "Yes, you're remarkably level-headed, Tracey."
She blushed, ducking her head. "Thank you, Father."
"There's no need for thanks, Tracey," he told her softly. "It's true."
She shrugged. "Not if you saw the letter I just wrote to Griffith."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow and gazed at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "What do you mean?"
"Let's just say I didn't keep a cool head when I wrote it," she admitted softly, her flush of embarrassment deepening.
"Ah." He nodded in response. "I understand."
* * *
"Stewart?"
His blue eyes snapped open and he smiled when he saw who had addressed him. "Ro, Hi." His gaze moved to the man standing at her shoulder. "Severus."
"Stewart." Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It is good to see that you are not dead after all."
"Thank you." Stewart's gaze moved back to the petite flight instructor. "Ro? We need to talk. In private."
She nodded and glanced up at the dark-haired Potions Master. "Sev?"
He nodded in response, squeezing her shoulder before turning and leaving. Stewart watched him go thoughtfully. "I take it you're dating Severus?"
She looked at him, startled. "How did you guess?"
"Albus said something about Griffith not approving the man you're dating right now," Stewart explained softly, the thought of Xiomara with another man causing a pang in the vicinity of his heart. "Judging by his actions, I'd say Severus is the lucky man."
Xiomara nodded, biting her lip. "Yes, he is. I wish it was you, but, well, you were dead."
Stewart nodded back, feeling the backs of his eyes burn from unshed tears. "I understand." He took a deep breath and, every word hurting him, said, "If he makes you happy, Ro, then I won't get in your way."
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Do you really mean that, Stew?"
He nodded, his heart aching. "Yes, I do, Ro. I just want you to be happy. Even if that means another man is the lucky one."
She nodded slowly. "Alright, but _we'll_ still be friends, won't we?"
"Of course." He reached out and grasped her hand in his. "If I can't have your love, then I'll be content with your friendship."
"Thank you, Stew. That means a lot to me." She leaned forward and hugged him.
He returned the hug. When she had reseated herself, he made himself comfortable in the bed. "So, tell me all about what I've missed."
Nodding, Xiomara began to talk.
* * *
Griffith Hooch sat in front of the fire, brooding. How could his sister do this to him? How could she stand up for that greasy-haired bastard? A tapping sound at the window distracted him. Getting up, he stumbled over to the window and peered out into the twilight. An owl was perched on the sill, an envelope in its beak. He groaned and opened the window to let the owl in. It dropped the envelope into his outstretched hand and swooped over to perch on the arm of the couch.
Not even bothering to look at who'd sent the letter, he walked over to the fireplace to destroy the letter. Before he could toss it into the fire, the owl rose with a screech and began flapping around his head. Griffith stumbled back and landed in an ungainly heap on the couch. Satisfied, the owl returned to the arm of the couch.
"Stupid bird," he muttered, glaring at the owl as he sorted himself out. The owl watch with calm amber eyes as he rose unsteadily to his feet. When he made to the throw the letter into the fire, the owl again backed him away from the fireplace.
"Alright, alright," he growled, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I'll read the bloody letter."
He opened the envelope and extracted the letter within.
_Griffith Hooch,
You are a bloody idiot! Do you have any idea how much you're hurting your sister? You've been gone five years, things won't be the same. If Professor Snape makes her happy, then don't get in the way! She wants you to be happy for her, even if you don't approve of the man. Please, Griffith, don't do this to her.
Oh, something else you might want to know: Stewart Pomfrey is *not* dead. He's alive and in the hospital wing right now. I'm not sure who'll be keeping an eye on him, since Poppy is on her honeymoon, but I'm sure there'll be someone there.
Sincerely, Tracey Cooper._
* * *
Stewart stared at her with wide eyes. "Albus said you were _dating_ him."
Xiomara sighed. "Dumbledore is the only other one who knows, Stew; no one else does. He's agreed to keep our secret for now. I hope we can trust you to keep quiet about this?"
Stewart nodded. "Yes, you can. Am I the first you've told?"
Xiomara blushed and nodded. "Yes. Well, aside from Dumbledore and Alastor. They were the only other ones there."
Stewart sighed. "I wish you both the best of luck."
"Thank you, Stew." She leaned forward and hugged him.
"You're welcome, Ro." He returned the hug gladly, wondering when his heart would stop hurting.
* * *
When he entered his office, Albus was surprised to find Minerva McGonagall waiting for him. "Minerva."
"Albus," she returned the greeting, standing by his desk. "Did you speak with Miss Cooper?"
He nodded tiredly. "Did you speak with Xiomara?"
She nodded in return, studying him closely. "Is something wrong, Albus?"
He sighed and gestured to the door to his private study. Without a word, she preceded him into it and to the squashy armchairs placed in front of the already-roaring fire. Once she had seated herself, he sat down as well. After a long moment, he spoke. "I had not expected fatherhood to be so draining, my dear."
Minerva looked surprised. "How do you mean, Albus?"
"When I thought I might lose Tracey, I was filled with a fear I had not expected," he explained softly, gazing into the fire. "It was almost as if someone had wrenched my heart out of my chest."
Minerva listened silently, feeling as if someone had stabbed a knife into her chest and was now twisting it. With difficulty, she, too, spoke. "It means you truly care for her, Albus. You are acting much as my father would."
"Yes," Albus agreed. "I remember." He shook himself and turned to Minerva. "How did your talk with Xiomara go?"
"She is speaking with Stewart even now," Minerva reported, glad for the distraction. "Although I fear he will be hurt no matter how gentle she is."
Albus nodded, picturing himself in a similar situation. "I imagine he would." She eyed him curiously, but said nothing. "How about a game of chess, my dear?"
"That sounds perfect."
* * *
Stewart waited until the door to the hospital wing had swung shut behind Xiomara before burying his face in his hands and letting the tears he'd been holding back flow. Though he sat silent and still, the tears flowed down his gaunt face nonetheless. When a hand touched his shoulder, he jumped and looked up, to meet a pair of clear blue eyes. They held sympathy, but not pity. He buried his face in Sylvia's shoulder and she held him as his tears continued to flow. He didn't see the pain etched on her face as she held him. If he had, he would have wondered if more than one of his sister's friends had had crushes on him.
* * *
Poppy woke to sunlight streaming into the cottage. She frowned for a moment, disoriented, before the warmth at her back and the weight of her husband's (such a wonderful word!) arm around her waist. Turning in his arms, she studied his sleeping face. Though seamed with scars now, she still remembered how it had looked when they'd gone to school together. He'd been a rather handsome boy and had grown into a handsome man. She wouldn't deny that the scars had detracted from his physical good looks, but now she only saw the handsome soul beneath. The gentle, caring soul that had yearned for the care and love his family had never given him. The soul that hid behind a wall of gruffness. The soul that she'd fallen in love with all those years ago.
As she gazed upon him, he stirred and murmured something in his sleep. It almost sounded like her name. She smiled to herself and stroked his face. "My own Alastor..."
At her voice, he stirred again and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when he saw her. "Good morning, my lovely wife..."
She smiled back. "Good morning, my wonderful husband."
When she tilted her head up to kiss him, he pulled her close and deepened it. She moaned into his mouth, her arms sliding around him to hold him close. He groaned at her touch, ending the kiss to begin pressing kisses to her forehead and cheeks. She caressed his back as she accepted his kisses, her fingers running easily over the numerous scars. It was a long time before either thought of eating breakfast or even getting up out of bed.
* * *
"Here you are, Stewart," Sylvia smiled as she set the tray of food on his lap. "Breakfast."
"Thank you, Sylvia," he smiled up at the plump witch and began to eat. After a moment, he looked over at the Herbology professor, who'd sat in a chair beside the bed. "Aren't you going to eat?"
She shook her head. "No, I ate in the Great Hall."
He nodded. "Won't you eat a little bit, though? So I won't feel like such a pig?"
She blinked and nodded, a shy smile spreading across her face. "Alright."
He smiled and conjured up a fork for her. She moved from the chair to sit by his knee on the bed so she could reach the food more easily. Together, they made short work of the food and she carried the empty dishes from the room. He sighed and laid back against the pillows. He longed to see his sister and talk with her, but she and her new husband weren't due back at Hogwarts until that evening. It wasn't long until the sleeping draught that had been slipped into his food took effect and put him to sleep.
* * *
Poppy and Alastor were enjoying the afternoon by playing Go Fish when a head appeared in the fireplace. "Albus, what is it?"
"Alastor, Poppy, I'm afraid you need to cut your honeymoon short," Albus told them apologetically. "There's been an attack on Hogsmeade."
Husband and wife exchanged glances. "We'll be there as soon as we can, Albus."
"That's all I ask, Alastor." Albus nodded to both and his head disappeared from the fire.
Poppy was in her husband's arms moments later. "Oh, Alastor, it's just like last time, isn't it?"
"No, Poppy," he answered quietly. "Last time, we weren't prepared. Now, we are."
She nodded and they shared an intense kiss before parting to go and begin packing.
* * *
"I want to help, Dumbledore," Stewart stated stubbornly, upon hearing the news.
"No, Stewart," Albus countered. "You need to remain here in the hospital wing and regain your strength."
"I've done this before," Stewart pointed out, almost desperately. "I have experience."
"Stewart," Minerva stepped in front of her friend and gazed sternly into his eyes. "You are in no condition to help clean up. Stay here and recuperate."
He sighed and threw up his hands, defeated. "Very well, Min. I'll stay."
"Good." She stepped back to stand beside Albus. "We don't know when we'll be back."
Stewart nodded and watched the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress stride from the hospital wing. Heaving a sigh of frustration, he flopped onto the bed he'd been confined to and stared up at the ceiling. "Hmm, that ceiling really needs a fresco." A sound at the doorway distracted him and he looked over at it. "Hello, Sylvia."
The plump witch smiled and slipped into the room. "Hello, Stew." Entering the hospital wing, she walked over and sat down in a chair beside his bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Aside from frustrated?" he asked. She nodded. "Better, actually. It's nice to have actual food in my stomach."
She smiled softly at that. "Yes, I imagine it would be."
* * *
It was almost dawn by the time Alastor and Poppy returned to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade. The mediwitch was virtually dead on her feet, but still insisted on checking the hospital wing before going to bed. Both froze when they saw the figure sleeping in one of the beds. She approached the bed timidly and touched one of the wasted hands resting on top of the sheet. "Stewart?"
The figure stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He smiled when he saw who stood beside his bed. "Hello, Poppy." His gaze moved to the man standing beside her and his eyes widened. "Alastor?" The retired auror merely nodded, his hand tight around his walking stick.
Poppy was trembling from a combination of fatigue and shock. "Y-you're dead, Stewart. Th-they said you were dead."
"They were wrong," Stewart answered simply. "Look, you're both tired. Why don't you go to bed and we'll talk in the morning?"
Poppy recognized the tone of his voice as being the one that brooked no refusal and nodded, biting her lip against the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Can I have a hug at least?"
He grinned and opened his arms. She fell into them and brother and sister hugged each other tightly, happy tears streaming down both faces.
* * *
Tracey was awakened by a tapping sound on her window. Her father had refused to allow her to go to Hogsmeade and she'd tossed and turned for a couple hours before she finally fell asleep. Dragging herself from the bed, she pulled her dressing gown on and opened the window. Her owl swooped in, dropping a letter into her open hand. "Thank you, Sheila." The owl hooted softly and, nipping Tracey's fingers, swooped back out. Tracey closed the window behind the owl and walked over to the bed. She picked up her glasses and slipped them on before opening the letter.
_Miss Cooper,
What right do you have to write a letter like that? We only met on Friday, for Godric's sake! What I do and who I stay in contact with is *my* business, *not* yours. What do you know about Snape? Nothing, I imagine. You don't know what he's done or where he's been. All you know of him is that he teaches Potions at Hogwarts. Of course I want Ro to be happy. I just don't think she could be happy with Snape. She could do better than *him*.
And what's this nonsense about Stewart? He died in the attack that took Alastor's eye and leg fifteen years ago. Don't play games with me. It won't work.
Cordially, Griffith Hooch_
The redhead snorted. It looked like she had her work cut out for her.
* * *
"Not a bad idea to attack Hogsmeade, but you've made _my_ part that much more difficult."
"You ssaid I wass free to do as I wished," he hissed at his partner. "Sso long as I did nothing on Hallowe'en."
The other sighed. "So I did. Try to think a little more clearly. He's bound to cancel all trips to Hogsmeade after this attack. Security at the castle was tightened after the incident at the Welcome Feast. It would have been easy to attack him if he'd visited Hogsmeade."
"He sstill might," Voldemort countered. "There iss no doubt that he will offer hiss aid with the relief effortss."
A/N2: There will be a Masquerade Ball as a result of the attack on Hogsmeade. I need costume ideas for the staff members. I already know what Alastor, Poppy, and Tracey will go as, but none of the others. Just include your suggestions in your review, please.