Amy smiled at him as he came down into the kitchen, making sure the door
was shut securely. "How's your hand today? Didn't hit anything else, did
you?"
"No," Harry said shortly, clutching his wand with a rather sweaty hand. "Hey, look - I was thinking, are they going to be coming after me if I use magic against you?" The last thing he needed was another trial.
"Before he asked me, Dumbledore got a permit for something akin to summer school. They're being rather nice to him at the Ministry, in lieu of recent events, and when he said it was for you they fell all over themselves." She rolled her eyes. "Since you're not crazy anymore . . . anyway, so long as I'm in the room and don't file anything against you, you're safe. Have you been practicing?"
His mouth twisted. How was he supposed to be able to empty his mind and feel nothing if his thoughts were full of people coming at him about Sirius? "Kind of."
Amy tilted her head. "Have you ever considered yoga?"
Harry blinked, wondering whether she was crazier than even he had given her credit for. "Yoga?"
"Yeah, the Muggle exercises used to clear the mind and restore the soul. Though we're only after the clearing-the-mind part." She waited a beat. "Well, have you?"
"I, er - can't say I have." Couldn't say he wanted to, either, but that wasn't what she was asking him. "You're not going to start giving yoga lessons, are you?"
She shrugged, sticking her wand in the waistband of her pants and finger- combing her hair back into a short ponytail, pulling an elastic band off her wrist to secure it. "Well, I can either start in and batter your mind right away or try and help you clear it, thus giving you a better chance of resisting."
Harry wrinkled his nose, tucking his wand away, though not taking a step closer. "Have you ever had anyone refuse you after a buildup like that?"
Amy shrugged, taking off her light jumper so she was just wearing a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants. It seemed she had come prepared. "Granted, it does seem a little weighted, but, if you were stubborn, you'd ignore anything I'd have to say, anyway." She did a few preliminary stretched, got poked by her wand, and took it out of her usual storage place to stick it through her ponytail. "Go ahead and laugh," she said, noticing the look on Harry's face - the wand was sticking straight up on the back of her head - but it works. Ready?"
"Uh - sure." Granted, the wand was not in her hand, but it was close and within reach, so he did not feel comfortable putting his own elsewhere.
Amy led him through perhaps half an hour of slow exercises, telling him to breathe deeply and clear his mind, her own eyes closed as she concentrated. "We can shorten these sessions as you get better at it," she said, finishing up. "How do you feel?"
Harry had to admit he was feeling relaxed, calm and collected. He was not nearly as flexible as she was - he got the feeling she did this often - but his mind had taken a break from fast-paced fury and his heartbeat was slow and even. "Surprisingly good," he grudgingly admitted.
"Allow me to apologize in advance. Wand at the ready." She slipped hers out of her hair and leveled it at him.
"You aren't going to use a Pensieve?" Harry asked ruefully.
"Nah. The way I figure, that'd give you perfect access to my most embarrassing memories, whereas this way you have to dig through an entire head." The fact that he had a thing for rifling through it when the memories were unguarded and not his own went unsaid. " Legilimens."
He was finishing his homework by flashlight under his covers, trying not to drip ink on the pillow . . . he was landing after having caught Neville's Remeberall and Professor McGonnagal was storming across the lawn toward him . . . Aunt Marge was shoving a suitcase in his stomach . . . Piers was holding him down as Dudley prepared to punch him yet again . . .
The images swirled around him and he was back in the gloomy kitchen, on his knees but not all fours, feeling remarkably clear-headed. "Hey, that was great!" Harry said enthusiastically, standing up and straightening his glasses. "Those were all really mild, they didn't hurt at all . . ."
Amy had her wand relaxed, though it was obvious she had only just lifted the curse. "That should make them easier to throw off," she pointed out gently. "You weren't even trying."
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course he hadn't; he's been too caught up in the fact that it was so simple, so painless, and he was wondering whether Muggles didn't have something with yoga, after all. "Uh . . . no, not really."
She tilted her head. "Ready?"
He was. Kind of. The memories swarmed into view as her wand leveled; this time she didn't even speak the curse. Ron being dragged into the Whomping Willow by a large black dog . . . the black dog turning into his first glimpse of Sirius . . . Sirius, running into the room in the Department of Mysteries . . . No, no - not again! Not this! . . . Sirius falling, the laughter not having time to die from his eyes . . .
Abruptly his mind was released. He was on all fours, breathing hard, wand having clattered from his hand. To his surprise Amy was leaning heavily on the edge of the table, face white, perspiration standing out on her forehead. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, eyes focused on something only she could see.
Harry actually felt sorry for her. "Do you - d'you see everything I see?" he asked softly, grabbing his wand and carefully standing, feeling as if he were about to fall over.
"Yeah. And feel at least vaguely what you feel, besides what I feel. Wonderful, isn't it?" She blinked, giving her head a shake. "You didn't try then, either. It was like you lit a path for me to follow, getting worse and worse with the memories as I went along."
"Well, it's kind of hard to be happy!" he snapped.
"Listen, buster, you punching something with that hand again, I'm going to seriously debate taking that arm out of your control," she threatened.
In spite of himself, Harry was interested. "You can do that?"
"Well, it'd be easier if I cut your arm off and replaced it with something of my own creation. That way I'd be able to make it do practically anything. The way it is now, all I'd be able to do its make it a dead weight swinging from your shoulder, but it'd stop you punching walls and getting even more scars on that hand."
Harry colored slightly, looking way. The Umbridge scars. He was so used to seeing the faint thin white lines, he'd almost forgotten, but when she had re-bandaged his hand yesterday she'd done it by hand, gratefully applying a substance to the nasty cut before she did so.
"How long did it take to do that?" she asked softly.
"More than a week," he answered grudgingly. "Detention."
"Why didn't you tell anyone? Scars are easy to take away when first formed. I might be able to lighten them further, but you'll always be able to see them, knowing they're there."
"I don't want to talk about it," he said stiffly though, if she'd decided to throw the curse at him then, he was willing to bet those long hours in her horridly pink office would be one of the first memories to pop up.
Amy considered the set of his face. "We'll stop there tonight, I think, but you should still practice. Saturday night, then."
She didn't have to dismiss him; as soon as she had named the next lesson, he was up the stairs and out of there.
* * * * *
When he went into the den, the last thing Harry expected to see was a knitting lesson, but there he found it. Amy was in the first quarter of a Gryffindor scarf, thicker and more luxurious than school issure, finishing off a row without looking at it while she studied the motion of Ginny's needles; she appeared to be starting a scarf of her own, this one out of yarn that moved through multiple shades of yellow. Hermione was working on - well, something. Either she was too close to just beginning it, or this was the first lesson, as Harry couldn't tell.
Amy spotted him lingering in the doorway and grinned. "You can come in; I won't force you to join."
"Oh, come in, Harry," Hermione said, face lit with SPEW fervor, this time for real. "What do you think of this sweater? I've only started." She held up the red bit she had done and - if he squinted - Harry thought he could make out a bit of a pattern.
"Erm - given up on scarves, socks, and hats then?" he asked hesitantly, lowering himself into an armchair as if it might bite or, worse, cause him to grab a pair of needles and a skein of particularly ugly green yarn and begin a dishcloth or something.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dobby doesn't need any more of those, I could tell, but he doesn't have much in the way of shirts."
"These are . . . er . . . all for Dobby, then? The new ones you're making." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous action he couldn't help connect to Snape's memory of his father, but there were no girls by the lake for Harry to impress.
"And Winky, yes." Hermione frowned at the pattern.
"Purl two now," Amy supplied. "Then the pattern starts all over again, remember?" She reached the end of a row and quickly counted stitches.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." The tip of her tongue stuck out at the corner of her mouth as she did as directed.
Ginny made a noise in the back of her throat, staring at what she had done with distaste. "Problem?" Harry asked, though it was obvious.
"I dropped a stitch," she complained, looking hopefully at Amy, who set her scarf aside and reached out for Ginny's, undoing a row or two before she could get it right and handing it back.
Harry frowned slightly, noticing the hint of something. "Is somebody wearing perfume?" he asked, looking around.
Hermione blushed. "I am. I used up my old scent and I'm wearing the stuff Ron got me for Christmas. Why, don't you like it?"
"No, it's just - I thought something smelled different, is all." He shrugged, feeling like he had absolutely nothing to do with his hands - which, in fact, he didn't.
"She's trying to see if Ron notices, but I think he's a bit dense," Ginny said matter-of-factly, content now that she had all her stitches back. "I mean, Christmas was forever ago -"
"Tell me about it," Amy muttered.
"- and she hasn't worn it until now, though I think it's rather nice, something wild-flowery." She looked up quickly over her clicking needles to smile at Hermione. "Better than that old stuff, you must admit. You could barely tell you were wearing any."
Hermione blushed deeper, the color of Ginny's hair, and was on the way to the red in Amy's scarf. "You know, we can change the subject at any time," she said hastily, more to the couple centimeters of sweater than to anyone in the room.
Amy glanced up at the grandfather clock. "Hermione, it's time - almost time for dinner. Why don't you girls go put your knitting away and head downstairs? I'm sure Molly will want to give some reason for Tonks not to set the table." They exchanged grins, though Harry decided to tail Hermione and Ginny than stay in the room with Amy.
"Just a minute, Harry," Hermione said as she went into their room, the door closed enough so that he couldn't see inside. Harry rolled his eyes. Girls: not only did they do everything in pairs, they made sure you couldn't get a glimpse of it, even if it was just - oh, the horror! - an unmade bed. But they were out soon enough, and they all trooped downstairs and into the kitchen, being swooped up in the flurry of activity, Mrs. Weasley and Tonks handling the silverware, the twins bewitching the plates to fly into their designated spots on the table under their mother's watchful eye, Mr. Weasley overseeing the cooking of dinner with Bill's help, and Ron already sitting at the table, looking rather useless. They had just begun to make their way over to him when the door banged open and someone clattered down the stairs, still taking off his traveling cloak and brushing the rain- soaked hair from his eyes.
"Molly," Professor Lupin said, draping the cloak on a hook by the stove to dry, "Severus took over for me, said I was needed urgently back here."
Mrs. Weasley looked neither surprised nor overly concerned. "Tonks, would you call the others down for dinner?" she asked, taking the last bit of silverware.
"Sure," Tonks said, knocking over the salt shaker on her way. The top had been loose and came off, sending a stream of white crystals across the table, but George swept it up quickly before she could start to apologize. Shrugging, she took the stairs two at a time, stuck her head out the door, and yelled, "Dinner!" Harry distinctly heard Mrs. Weasley mutter, "I could have done that myself," before helping her husband get dinner on the table.
Harry and Ron shared a puzzled look, wondering why no one had immediately taken Lupin from the room and explained whatever had caused Snape to take his place right away. Instead, Charlie and Amy came down the stairs. "We'll need to stock up on burn creams," Amy was saying.
"No, it's not that bad with a properly trained dragon," Charlie insisted. They saw his feet first and then the rest of him gradually appeared as he came down the stairs, halfway turned around to continue the conversation. "We've had this one since it was quite young, so we should be all right."
"If you insist," Amy said, sweeping the hair out of her eyes again as it was sticking to her forehead in the humidity. "I still think -"
"Amy." Lupin was looking at her, more than slightly shocked, his voice hoarser than usual. "Amy." He took a step toward her, not daring to believe that she was standing right there in front of him.
"Remus Lupin." Amy, who had stopped on the second-to-last step, unfroze and, a smile leaping to her face, practically shoved Charlie out of the way to leap into Lupin's arms, where they shared a kiss that would have put Roger Davies and his girlfriend to shame. Harry realized he was staring when Hermione nudged him.
"They haven't seen each other since Christmas," she said in a low voice.
"What about Easter?" Ron asked, eyes still glued on the pair.
"She only saw Sirius then," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And it was only a couple of hours, anyway."
Amy and Lupin drew apart to draw breath and she reached up to touch his cheek and brush at his hair, still not quite sure he was real, even though she had been kissing him for quite long enough to know. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be days, wouldn't get here before I had to leave . . ."
"Severus took over for me. Said I was needed here." Lupin raised an eyebrow at that.
Amy hugged him tightly, tucking herself under his chin. "Remind me to thank him. Chocolates, the rich, expensive kind you have to pick out one at a time to put in the little gold box."
"If I must."
"Yeah, I think he kinda deserves it."
Harry tore his eyes away from them, mind whirling - what about Amy and Snape? Lupin was taking this all quite well, considering it had been that man's design to get him there - and saw that Tonks and Charlie were grinning at each other, his hand on top of hers on the table. This was turning into that coffee shop last Valentines Day. He was almost afraid to look at anyone else, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dishing out the stew and passing around the cornbread. "Come on, while it's still hot!" she said briskly. Amy grinned sheepishly as she and Lupin took the two empty seats.
"Was it a good trip, Remus?" Tonks asked, though her eyes were focused on her aunt. Clearly, if Amy was going to threaten Tonks with Charlie, she was going to threaten her aunt with Lupin.
"Horrible. Rain the whole way. Dumbledore didn't want us using magic, considering - you know." He hastily broke off, noticing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
"But you made it safe and sound in spite of it all," Mrs. Weasley said as if nothing had been edited, peaking the interest of the four Hogwarts students. Rain the entire way constituted an "in spite of it all"? Hardly, but she did not seem to realize she was giving out tantalizing hints.
Harry caught Lupin glancing at Amy. She looked as if the smile on her face was a bit forced, and Lupin gave her shoulders a squeeze. "It's not worth it," he said softly.
"Oh, isn't it?" Her eyes flashed defiantly as she lay down her spoon. "Just think, if you had given him a little more information last year . . ." Her voice was soft, but could have drilled a hole in a cement wall. Conversations were growing up around them, but Harry ignored these, as this seemed to be more important.
"Ames, Dumbledore already said he's learned his lesson."
"It's not just him, Remus. He's not a child anymore. Less than a year and he'll be able to do magic outside of school, much less make decisions for himself. I've seen enough to think he's ready now."
"It's not wise to pick fights within us," he said uneasily, glancing around the table. Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley was eyeing them suspiciously, though she turned back to Charlie as if nothing had been noticed. "That's what Voldemort wants, divisions."
"And he delights in the uninformed," she added, picking up her spoon again and continuing to eat. "I just think there's more we should be doing, is all."
"If you don't watch out, you're going to be accused of being Sirius," he warned her.
Amy's eyes flashed. "No one can take his place. But maybe I ought to start trying."
Harry felt something cold settle into the pit of his stomach despite the heat of the food he shoveled down quickly to avoid having to speak or look at anyone. After desert, he claimed fatigue and retreated to the room he shared with Ron, changing into his pajamas and sitting on top of the rumpled bedclothes. Amy, try to replace Sirius? She couldn't. how could she even think . . . how could she . . . didn't she realize . . . wasn't this just as hard for her as it was for him? Replace Sirius? She'd gotten it right the first time: no one could take his place. What was to be gained by trying?
When he heard footsteps outside an hour or so later, Harry hurriedly slipped between the covers, rolled over to face the wall, and pretended to be asleep. Replace Sirius. Hah. Like anyone who would cheat on Snape with Lupin . . . ugh, what was he saying? But that was true, wasn't it? Even if she hadn't kissed Snape like that - who'd want to? - she was still playing one of them for a sap. Right?
Harry wished desperately for the potion Madam Pomfrey had given him after the third Tri-Wizard task, the one that gave him immediate, dreamless sleep. As it was, even the stupid yoga mind techniques did nothing to help him - he kept connecting them with Amy.
It was a long, long time before his eyes closed in slumber.
* * * * *
Hermione looked at him over clicking needles. "Harry, what's wrong? You haven't said a word all day."
He made a noise in the back of his throat, having read the same line in Quidditch Through the Ages about seven times and only gotten a few words here and there.
"Well, he's not speaking, so we might as well start a new topic," Ginny said, mildly ticked off at her scarf. "Did you hear Mum and Amy this morning?"
"Talk about loud!" Ron said, looking amazed that Amy's volume was steady competition. He actually set down his new edition of the Quibbler, the one that had pages of Chudley Cannon pictures and an article about how their Keeper was actually Peter Pettigrew back from the dead, thinner, and with different hair (thick, brown, and curly). "Man, the Muggles must've heard that one . . ."
This was a surprise to Harry and Hermione. "What are you talking about?" she asked, looking pained as she tried to remember the next stitch sequence in the sweater.
"Oh, you didn't hear it up here?" Ginny said. "They must've put a charm on the kitchen door, it was horrible. I'm surprised Mrs. Black didn't wake up screaming, especially with what Mum was saying."
"Yeah, that's the last thing we need, his mum taking Amy's side," Ron said, looking earnest. "I mean, she's arguing for us, after all, she needs all the help she can get."
Ginny giggled. "Professor Lupin got out of there faster than I thought possible. Didn't want to have to choose sides."
"He's on ours, I'm sure, he just doesn't want to face Mum." Ron grinned, satisfied.
Hermione looked exasperated. "Well, what's this all about? What was your mum saying about Amy?"
"Oh, that . . ." Ginny grinned. "Amy cornered her after breakfast, said something like we've all faced full grown Death Eaters, we should know what's going on, or at least more than we do now."
"Not that she was arguing to get us in the Order, mind," Ron said. "Well, maybe you, Harry; she said you should be told the most, but admitted she might as well tell the three of us, just to keep you from spreading it around secretly." He grinned. "You should've heard her, mate: 'Harry's been through more in sixteen years than most Death Eaters have in their despicable lifetimes!' It was great!"
"What did she call Amy that Mrs. Black wouldn't like?" Hermione was losing patience.
Ginny cast a precautionary glance at Harry. "Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, please, but Mum said 'You're just like Sirius.'"
"Yeah, and Amy shot back, 'No, I'm not, but I'd certainly like to be, thanks.'" Ron laughed. "Mum's so mad, she thought she wouldn't have to argue with anybody about this any more, and then she comes in and starts in on her, saying you're practically an adult."
Harry's mouth went dry and he felt like kicking himself. Well, duh, if he'd even stopped to look at the context it would have been so simple: she wanted to be like Sirius in the essence that she wanted to fight for him to know, to be informed. He wasn't sure whether or not he should start feeling ashamed.
"But that's not all," Ginny said softly.
"Oh, yeah." Ron rumpled his hair, a nervous gesture. "See, Harry, Amy said she wasn't going to say anything, on account that you've got Mum and all, or that she's still pretty well connected to the Dark Side, which is why she didn't come forward earlier, what with Sirius and all . . ."
"Tell me when he starts making sense," Hermione muttered to Ginny.
"Harry, Amy's your godmother," Ginny said promptly.
He blinked. "Hey, wait - there's entirely another thing we haven't even come close to discussing!" Harry sputtered, not wanting to deal with that information right then.
The girls looked puzzled. "What?"
"Hello? Amy and Snape?" Wasn't it rather obvious?
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Harry, it's entirely possible for a girl to be good friends with one guy and in love with another. She and Snape are just friends."
"Oh yeah? What about when she begged him to stay? And when they left - what about then, huh?" He was desperate to keep Amy on the shady side of things, if only because it was easier to hate the person delving into the depths of your brain and reading your thoughts at will. And teaching you yoga. How could he forget that? Without the imminent threat of a curse, that seemed rather sissy and undignified.
Hermione looked at him as though she pitied him greatly. "There's a big difference between a kiss on the cheek and full-out snogging, Harry." She said it gently, as if explaining it to a small - and yet precocious - child. "She and Professor Lupin have been together for ages."
"Since when have you learned all this about her?" he demanded.
"Since we started knitting," Ginny said hastily, casting a glance at Hermione, who tried not to look too relieved. "You know, girl talk and stuff."
Ron made a face, picking up the Quibbler again. "Maybe we should really be glad we don't know all that goes on around here. Honestly, girl talk and stuff? I don't even want to know."
But Harry was not pacified. "Does Professor Lupin know about Snape?" he demanded.
Hermione gave him a look that clearly said "How dense can you get?" "Snape was the one who arranged to get Amy here and then took over for Professor Lupin so they could have time together."
"No, I mean, does he know about Snape," Harry stressed, trying out a few vague hand gestures to get his point across. "How close those two are or whatever."
Ginny sighed and made a face at her scarf. "Harry, weren't you the one who overheard Tonks accusing her aunt of practically the same thing? It's been discussed, been dragged out into the open -"
"That wasn't exactly open," Harry muttered. It was vaguer than his hand gestures has been.
"- and everyone that needs to be OK with it is OK with it," she finished, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she counted her stitches and prepared to attack another row.
"It's supposed to be getting easier, you realize," Hermione said, watching the younger girl struggle. "That's what practice is for."
"Tell that to the scarf," Ginny shot back, though her irritation was too great to be caused entirely by her knitting. "I think I need another knitting lesson."
Hermione groaned. "They're easier on you than they are on me," she said, though the sweater was not exactly knitting itself.
Harry and Ron shared a glance. "Don't look at me, mate," Ron said, flipping a page in the magazine and poking at a picture to wake its occupants up. "Girl stuff. I've five brothers, only one of her."
"More than I have," Harry muttered, turning back to his book. Occlumency was tomorrow night. Should he bring up the godmother-godson thing, or wait and see if she would? But if she was holding back because of Mrs. Weasley . . . well, anything was possible. He sighed, kneading his forehead with the heels of his hands. What I need, he decided, is less mystery, a whole book of answers to all my questions.
Before he went to bed that night, Harry was actually able to step back from the situation enough to have a good laugh at himself. A book of answers to his questions? Hah. Not even magic could do that. Harry caught the dark outline of Phineas in the portrait on the wall, clearly eyeing him and judging whether or not he had gone insane.
* * * * *
Harry had been debating with himself for half an hour, but it finally popped out just as Amy was preparing to hit him with his first round of Legilimens. "Why didn't you tell me you're my godmother?"
She blinked, lowering her wand out of complete surprise. "Who told you that?"
"Ron and Ginny. They heard their mum yelling at you."
Amy sighed, distractedly finger-combing her hair. "Their mum's the reason I didn't tell you."
"But that doesn't make any sense," Harry insisted. "I mean, she's not going to give you any more say with me than Sirius had."
"But she feels threatened by me," Amy countered. "Sirius wasn't trying to take her place as a mother, and she's afraid I will."
"You can't. Take her place, I mean," Harry added hastily, turning his wand over and over in his fingers.
"Yes, but Molly doesn't realize this." Hitching up her jeans, Amy took a seat on the edge of the table, one leg swinging free while the other kept her form falling off. "You honestly didn't hear? My word, she must've been quick with that charm . . ."
"Ginny - or was it Ron? Someone said Professor Lupin didn't even stay." Harry took a seat on the stairs, still turned to look at her.
She winced slightly. "Yeah, he probably caught her building up to 'I've raised seven children and you have none' argument."
Harry blinked, almost dropping his wand and catching it quickly. "Umm, if it's not too personal - what's that have to do with him? I mean, you're not married or anything . . ." He bit back an, "Are you?"
"No, we're not." Amy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "See, Harry, Molly knows that's a rather tender subject for us, one of the reasons Remus shies away from anything that might lead to discussion of children. I've known since I was eighteen I wasn't destined to be a mother."
"How'd you know that?"
She smiled softly. "I fell in love with Remus. Werewolves can't father children. Not that most of them even find them a position to consider it, mind, but still . . ."
OK, now that was straying a bit close to things he didn't need to know. "How'd you meet Professor Lupin?" That seemed safe.
Amy considered something a moment. "Have you been having any bad dreams lately? Scar paining you at all?"
"Uh . . . no."
"Don't look at me like I'm crazy, I just wanted to make sure you could skive off a lesson without getting me burned for it later," she said, hopping off the table and retrieving something out of the cupboard that held the dishes, something that looked like a bowl covered in strange runes. Putting her wand to her temple, Amy removed a few strands of memory and added them to the glowing silver liquid already there. "D'you think you'll be able to use this with permission?" she asked, turning away from the Pensieve with a smile glimmering in her eyes.
Harry grimaced slightly. "I dunno, after that last time I'm not all too keen to go diving in again."
"Aw, come on, I promise not to throw jars of pickled frogs' liver at you." Amy grabbed his wrist with her free hand, poking the mixture with he wand and then dipping her head in until her nose touched it.
The world was swirling around Harry, though all he could feel was Amy's hand keeping him with her as they flew. When she silvery smoke cleared they were in a dimly lit room, probably an attic room, Harry thought, and there was a girl curled up in a blanket in the window seat, reading a large and imposing book by an electric lantern strung up over her head. She had long black hair and thick bangs, both of which showed a slight hint of a curl, and she wore glasses with thick black rims. Her lips moved as she dragged a finger along the page, reading.
"And you wondered why I let my nose stay broken," the present-day Amy muttered. "Though I'd forgotten about the glasses."
"When are we?" Harry asked, looking around the room with curiosity. There was a mattress on the floor in the corner, surrounded by spell books and pots of ink, some with quills still in them. Rolls of parchment littered the wooden floor, though the oval braided rug was clear from any scraps, presumably another favorite place to sit as a desk lamp was perched on its edge.
"Summer after I graduated. I'm studying for Healer training. School Healers have it the worst; we have to know everything equally well. Normal training's two years, I had four, and they considered me quick." She pulled a face. "Maybe I started the memory too early. No, wait -" Amy paused. "He's coming."
Harry was just about to ask "Who?" when the footsteps on the stairs grew louder and the door banged open, revealing a young and beaming Sirius with short hair. If Amy had just graduated, she was in the neighborhood of eighteen, which meant Sirius was twenty-two. "Ames, he's here!" Sirius said, bounding across the room to pull the book from her hands.
"Wait - no - Sirius, I'm studying!" Amy cried as notes slipped out from between the pages. "Hey - give that back!"
Sirius danced out of her reach. "Harry James Potter!"
"What?" Harry had actually spoken aloud before he realized it must be July 31. They were talking about him, and he was just born.
Amy stopped chasing after the scraps of parchment and brushed her bangs away to look up at him. "You're joking. They didn't name him something horrible? And when I say that, I mean something you suggested," she said, grabbing her book back and throwing it on the window seat. "Come on, if they've told you we can go - grab the Floo Powder -"
"Got it!" Sirius shoved some from his pocket into her hand.
Amy gave him a withering look. "Sirius, it's never going to all come out of there, you'll be wearing those jeans and walking into fires and you're bottom half'll whip away before you've dropped enough powder for your top."
"That's what Healers like you are for, Ames. Come on! St. Mungo's!" Sirius called, having conjured up a fire in the dark fireplace while Amy was complaining about his jeans. Sighing, Amy stepped in.
"Hold on, this gets freaky," the present-day Amy said, grabbing Harry's hand again. Indeed, Floo Powder in real life was a bit of a strange trip, but in a memory the colors whirled around them and they were belched out of the St. Mungo's fireplace with even less ceremony, almost tumbling to the ground. "C'mon, we've got to keep up," Amy said, grabbing his wrist again. "Seriously, we could've won a marathon that night." They took off down the hallway and up the stairs, following Amy and Sirius.
"Here," Sirius said, grabbing the young Amy's hand as they reached a room. "Come on - we're godparents!"
Harry stopped watching his godfather when they went into the hospital room and James grabbed Amy and Sirius in an enthusiastic hug, knocking his glasses askew. "He's perfect!" James said, shoving them back up on his nose and hurrying the newly arrived pair to Lily's bedside.
Harry's mum was glowing, looking exhausted as her hair lay fanned out limply on the pillow, but she was radiant. "He's asleep," she whispered, passing the small bundle that was her son to Amy.
Amy looked down on him with perfect joy on her face. "Oh, Lil, he looks like he's going to be a stud like James!"
Lily laughed as her husband took her hand and kissed it fondly. "He certainly has his father's appetite."
Sirius peered over his sister's shoulder at the sleeping baby. "He's so tiny."
"D'you want to hold him?" Amy offered, turning to him.
Sirius held up his hands, backing away and looking a bit scared at the thought. "No, I'd drop him."
"You wouldn't, because then I'd kill you," James said, but his grin was fixed on his son.
"That's about all that happened that night," the present day Amy said, and the voices seemed to fade in volume. "I just thought you'd want to see that." She wasn't looking at him, focusing instead on her memory of Sirius.
"Yeah," Harry said, looking at his parents. "She really loved him, right?" Snape's memory from this same Pensieve was still haunting him.
"Lily and James? Absolutely." Amy smiled fondly at the woman who had chosen her as godmother. "Said James was exasperating at times, but loved him more than anything. Those two . . . when they weren't holding hands, he was always scanning the room for her like she'd get lost or something, and she always winked at him when he looked so relieved to see her again."
The scene swirled and when it had calmed they were in the same room, but the sun was high overhead. "This is the next day," Amy provided. She and Sirius were there, and Lily was sitting in the armchair, holding baby Harry, whose eyes were opened. "This is when Remus realized I existed."
The sound came back on when she had finished speaking and the door to the room banged open, showing a slightly pink Wormtail holding a bouquet of flowers, followed by a young Lupin. Because he had no fond feelings for the other man, Harry studied his old professor. His hair was in need of cutting, brushing the collar of his shirt, but he looked fine and healthy, so the full moon must have been some days away. "Congratulations," Wormtail squeaked, holding out the flowers like a shield.
Lily laughed, allowing James to take them and conjure up a vase. "Thanks, Peter. This is Harry."
Harry - the baby - regarded the newcomer with wide eyes.
"How are you, Lily?" Lupin asked, smiling and sliding his finger into Harry's little hand, laughing when Harry gripped it tightly.
"Wonderful," Lily said sincerely.
"As usual," James said affectionately, sitting on the arm of the chair and putting an arm around his wife. Lupin looked slightly sad at this, though Harry now thought it might be because that - even if he ever found a wife - Lupin would not be sharing such a moment with her. Harry could not look at Amy after thinking that.
It was then that Wormtail noticed the other two. "Hi, Sirius," he piped up, looking almost surprised to see him.
"Sirius's godfather, of course," James supplied, "and this is Amy - you've met her before, haven't you, Wormtail? She's godmother."
"Yeah, we've met," Amy said, shaking his hand.
Remus had stopped looking at Harry and was staring at Amy. Granted, she was wearing contacts and had brushed her hair to a shine, but he seemed to think she had just descended from heaven for a bit of fun. "You were fourteen then," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, though not from the battering of years.
The young Amy nervously rubbed her nose, no doubt remembering how it had looked the last time he had seen her. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."
There was a moment of silence, James and Lily sharing a wink, Peter looking as if nothing were going on, and Sirius trying to figure out exactly what Lupin saw in his little sister.
Lupin finally cleared his throat. "D'you want to go get a cup of tea?"
Amy blushed, not looking at the others. "Sure."
They walked out of the room together, and, as the vision faded, Harry distinctly head Sirius say, "Sure, Moony, I'd love something to drink, let me come with you."
The colors swirled more violently than before and, when things finally stopped spinning, Harry was back on the floor of the kitchen, blinking and trying to make sure his head was on straight. "He asked you for tea?" he finally managed, climbing to his feet.
Amy looked up from transferring the memories back into her head. "Yeah. Tea, at St. Mungo's. Wild first date, huh?" She grinned. "Oh, well. Whatever works."
Harry hesitated a moment. "Thanks," he said finally. "For showing me that."
She smiled at him, a real, pure smile. "My pleasure. Now, run along - I'm sure it's late."
Harry was in bed and almost asleep before he realized that seeing Sirius like that hadn't brought on any of the usual, painful symptoms. He had only felt happy to see him, happy to see him happy. Wondering slightly at that, Harry drifted off to sleep, wondering if maybe he had been wrong about Amy, after all. When Ron started snoring five minutes later, he was in the middle of a nice dream and didn't even twitch.
* * * * *
August 29 came in and saw number twelve, Grimmauld Place full with activity as Amy had to be off to Hogwarts to settle in before the students arrived. Amy was sure she was going to leave something behind, running up and down the stairs with a checklist in hand and staring nervously at her trunk and duffle bag by the door, traveling cloak slung over them both. Hermione came down. "I checked your room, you've left nothing there," she said, slightly out of breath.
Amy shook her head. "There's something wrong here, I just know it."
"You know, you always feel that way when you're doing something you're not entirely sure you want to do," Professor Lupin said, coming out of the den and leaning on the railing up above to look down at them as Harry joined Hermione in sitting, taking the step three beneath hers. "And there's nothing in there hat you've forgot, unless you dropped a Galleon between the couch cushions."
"Nothing down here," Ginny called as she and Ron came up out of the kitchen.
Amy looked rather pained, trying to think. "I got the Pensieve, Dumbledore'd give me one of those looks if I left it . . . Does anyone have a Remembrall? I could really use one . . ."
"Nothing in the attic," Tonks called, having joined Lupin at the first floor railing. "Well, actually there's a ton in the attic, and a couple boxes with your name on them, but they're old cloths and stuff, utterly horrible. You really don't have any fashion sense, you know."
"We've checked everywhere," Mrs. Weasley assured her, coming out of the door to the sitting room on the ground floor, wiping her hands on her apron. "Listen, Charlie's already gone, why don't you go ahead and we'll send anything along as we find it?"
Harry moved aside as Professor Lupin came down the stairs. They were all in place, all trying to hide secretive smiles and giggles about what they knew was about to unfold. Ginny and Hermione had almost fainted with delight when the plan was presented, causing Ron to roll his eyes and mutter "Girls," but he had to admit, he didn't want to miss it. Harry had been afraid she'd somehow drag it out of him during an Occlumency lesson, but their next one was set up for the hospital wing on September 3, so they were safe there.
Amy turned to her trunk, moving the cloak slightly and laughing as she finally caught sight of what was bothering her, a black briefcase that said, in silver letters, LUPIN. "Remus, what's that doing here?" she asked, straightening up with her hand on her hip.
"Oh, it's for you. Chocolates, the rich, expensive kind you have to pick out one at a time to put in the little gold box. Two boxes, actually, one for you and one for Severus." He was grinning as he said it, especially when she laughed again and hugged him impulsively.
"Remus, that's sweet!"
"They're identical," he added. "So you won't go picking through his and take all the ones you like before you give them to him."
Harry tried to be patient as Amy kissed Professor Lupin, turning around to look up at Hermione, but she was gazing at them and looking a bit misty- eyed.
"But I can put those in my trunk, no problem," Amy said when she pulled away. "There's room, you can have your briefcase back."
"Oh, but I don't think that's mine," he said airily."
Harry sat up. Finally, he thought. He couldn't see how Professor Lupin was standing this. Then again, he'd already confessed to putting this off too long already, but still.
"Of course it is," Amy said, laughing again. "Look at it." She pulled her cloak aside, not really reading the letters as she thought she knew that they'd say. "See, right there -" The sight brought her up short. Tonks was leaning over the railing so far Harry was afraid she'd fall, landing on her hot-pink head and just barely missing Mrs. Weasley, who had the corner of her apron poised near her eye, in case she needed it. Amy finally found her voice. "It says AMY B LUPIN."
"It does, doesn't it?" Remus said, bending to pick it up. "And I might not have been entirely correct when I told you what was in it." He balanced the briefcase on the railing post at the bottom of the stairs, clicking both silver latches to open it, revealing the two gold boxes as advertised - and a small black velvet box. "Amy," Professor Lupin said, taking the box, turning around, and kneeling before her as he opened it, "will you marry me?"
Does he even need to ask? Harry thought as Amy clapped a hand to her mouth, completely shocked. "Did you - all of you -" she looked around to where they were all posed, Hermione almost biting her fingernails, Ginny hugging herself happily, Tonks gripping the railing with white knuckles, Mrs. Weasley putting her apron to use, and Ron and Harry looking like complete guys and just mentally wiling her to tell Lupin Yes. "You had this all planned?"
Lupin grinned at her. "So you couldn't say no."
Amy laughed again, looking close to tears herself. "I'd never say no, Remus Lupin. Of course I'll be your wife." He barely had the ring on her finger before she grabbed his collar and "made" him kiss her.
Later, up in the den, Ron leaned close to Harry so the girls wouldn't hear him whisper, "Thought she'd never get out of there, they were stuck together so tightly."
Harry hid his smile behind his hand, making sure Ginny and Hermione were chatting animatedly about how romantic it was, how special and all that as they continued to knit with their usual winces and mutterings as they struggled through. "Did you see Tonks? Thought she'd jump off, sure as anything."
"And Mum." Ron rolled his eyes. "She'll tear up at anything these days, honestly."
Harry nudged his pawn forward a space, trying not to look as though he was having trouble figuring out how best to pummel Ron. "She seemed to like it, though. Amy, I mean."
"Of course she liked it," Hermione said, exasperated. "They've been together sixteen years, why not make it a permanent thing? And it was so romantic, so unexpected . . ."
"I would've found it more unexpected had Professor Lupin said, 'Find a way to get into the entryway right before Amy leaves, I'm proposing,'" Ron said helpfully, crushing Harry's bishop with his knight and earning himself a rap in the head with a knitting needle. "Hey!" he complained, eyes watering as he rubbed his noggin. "What was that for?"
"For being completely insensitive," Hermione sniffed. "It was wonderful, and beautiful, and Amy had no idea that it was happening."
"Oh, come on," Harry said, not willing to go that far, brave enough to say something because Hermione was too far away to reach him. "They must've discussed marriage at least some before he did that."
"Not for a few years," Ginny said. "They loosely agreed that it would be easiest on her to keep up her little charade if she wasn't married to an obvious good guy, and a werewolf at that."
"When she says that, she means Professor Lupin said it, and Amy grudgingly agreed," Hermione clarified. "I mean, listening to her those two've been a sure thing for ages."
"Sixteen years," Harry said distractedly. He was running out of time to make a spectacular kill, though his remaining knight was rather willing to go kamikaze and kept telling him what to do. "They had their first date the day after I was born."
Ron blinked. "Hey, mate, they haven't roped you into knitting or anything, have they?"
Harry shook his head, aware Hermione and Ginny were interested. He hadn't said a word about that particular Pensieve experience, mostly because he wanted to treasure it to himself, keep it as a nice warm secret to take out and examine when things looked a bit bleak. "Occlumency lesson," he said vaguely, hoping they would assume it had something to do with him blocking the curse and reading her mind instead of the other way around.
It worked. Three seconds later the girls were on to discussing the perfect wedding dress for Amy. Three minutes later - Harry was surprised it had taken that long - Ron had slaughtered him and the pieces were on their way to mending to they could play again. It was only in bed later that night, in a passing thought, that Harry wondered what Snape would say when he saw the diamond ring on Amy's finger. Picturing the expression on the Potions professor's face, he smiled and fell into a peaceful sleep, one that ended in a fall into a shadowy place that was vaguely familiar and rather comforting before the dream shifted into something involving flying pigs, fireworks, and wigs made out of sawdust, the usual nonsense not remembered upon waking the next morning.
"No," Harry said shortly, clutching his wand with a rather sweaty hand. "Hey, look - I was thinking, are they going to be coming after me if I use magic against you?" The last thing he needed was another trial.
"Before he asked me, Dumbledore got a permit for something akin to summer school. They're being rather nice to him at the Ministry, in lieu of recent events, and when he said it was for you they fell all over themselves." She rolled her eyes. "Since you're not crazy anymore . . . anyway, so long as I'm in the room and don't file anything against you, you're safe. Have you been practicing?"
His mouth twisted. How was he supposed to be able to empty his mind and feel nothing if his thoughts were full of people coming at him about Sirius? "Kind of."
Amy tilted her head. "Have you ever considered yoga?"
Harry blinked, wondering whether she was crazier than even he had given her credit for. "Yoga?"
"Yeah, the Muggle exercises used to clear the mind and restore the soul. Though we're only after the clearing-the-mind part." She waited a beat. "Well, have you?"
"I, er - can't say I have." Couldn't say he wanted to, either, but that wasn't what she was asking him. "You're not going to start giving yoga lessons, are you?"
She shrugged, sticking her wand in the waistband of her pants and finger- combing her hair back into a short ponytail, pulling an elastic band off her wrist to secure it. "Well, I can either start in and batter your mind right away or try and help you clear it, thus giving you a better chance of resisting."
Harry wrinkled his nose, tucking his wand away, though not taking a step closer. "Have you ever had anyone refuse you after a buildup like that?"
Amy shrugged, taking off her light jumper so she was just wearing a t-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants. It seemed she had come prepared. "Granted, it does seem a little weighted, but, if you were stubborn, you'd ignore anything I'd have to say, anyway." She did a few preliminary stretched, got poked by her wand, and took it out of her usual storage place to stick it through her ponytail. "Go ahead and laugh," she said, noticing the look on Harry's face - the wand was sticking straight up on the back of her head - but it works. Ready?"
"Uh - sure." Granted, the wand was not in her hand, but it was close and within reach, so he did not feel comfortable putting his own elsewhere.
Amy led him through perhaps half an hour of slow exercises, telling him to breathe deeply and clear his mind, her own eyes closed as she concentrated. "We can shorten these sessions as you get better at it," she said, finishing up. "How do you feel?"
Harry had to admit he was feeling relaxed, calm and collected. He was not nearly as flexible as she was - he got the feeling she did this often - but his mind had taken a break from fast-paced fury and his heartbeat was slow and even. "Surprisingly good," he grudgingly admitted.
"Allow me to apologize in advance. Wand at the ready." She slipped hers out of her hair and leveled it at him.
"You aren't going to use a Pensieve?" Harry asked ruefully.
"Nah. The way I figure, that'd give you perfect access to my most embarrassing memories, whereas this way you have to dig through an entire head." The fact that he had a thing for rifling through it when the memories were unguarded and not his own went unsaid. " Legilimens."
He was finishing his homework by flashlight under his covers, trying not to drip ink on the pillow . . . he was landing after having caught Neville's Remeberall and Professor McGonnagal was storming across the lawn toward him . . . Aunt Marge was shoving a suitcase in his stomach . . . Piers was holding him down as Dudley prepared to punch him yet again . . .
The images swirled around him and he was back in the gloomy kitchen, on his knees but not all fours, feeling remarkably clear-headed. "Hey, that was great!" Harry said enthusiastically, standing up and straightening his glasses. "Those were all really mild, they didn't hurt at all . . ."
Amy had her wand relaxed, though it was obvious she had only just lifted the curse. "That should make them easier to throw off," she pointed out gently. "You weren't even trying."
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. Of course he hadn't; he's been too caught up in the fact that it was so simple, so painless, and he was wondering whether Muggles didn't have something with yoga, after all. "Uh . . . no, not really."
She tilted her head. "Ready?"
He was. Kind of. The memories swarmed into view as her wand leveled; this time she didn't even speak the curse. Ron being dragged into the Whomping Willow by a large black dog . . . the black dog turning into his first glimpse of Sirius . . . Sirius, running into the room in the Department of Mysteries . . . No, no - not again! Not this! . . . Sirius falling, the laughter not having time to die from his eyes . . .
Abruptly his mind was released. He was on all fours, breathing hard, wand having clattered from his hand. To his surprise Amy was leaning heavily on the edge of the table, face white, perspiration standing out on her forehead. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, eyes focused on something only she could see.
Harry actually felt sorry for her. "Do you - d'you see everything I see?" he asked softly, grabbing his wand and carefully standing, feeling as if he were about to fall over.
"Yeah. And feel at least vaguely what you feel, besides what I feel. Wonderful, isn't it?" She blinked, giving her head a shake. "You didn't try then, either. It was like you lit a path for me to follow, getting worse and worse with the memories as I went along."
"Well, it's kind of hard to be happy!" he snapped.
"Listen, buster, you punching something with that hand again, I'm going to seriously debate taking that arm out of your control," she threatened.
In spite of himself, Harry was interested. "You can do that?"
"Well, it'd be easier if I cut your arm off and replaced it with something of my own creation. That way I'd be able to make it do practically anything. The way it is now, all I'd be able to do its make it a dead weight swinging from your shoulder, but it'd stop you punching walls and getting even more scars on that hand."
Harry colored slightly, looking way. The Umbridge scars. He was so used to seeing the faint thin white lines, he'd almost forgotten, but when she had re-bandaged his hand yesterday she'd done it by hand, gratefully applying a substance to the nasty cut before she did so.
"How long did it take to do that?" she asked softly.
"More than a week," he answered grudgingly. "Detention."
"Why didn't you tell anyone? Scars are easy to take away when first formed. I might be able to lighten them further, but you'll always be able to see them, knowing they're there."
"I don't want to talk about it," he said stiffly though, if she'd decided to throw the curse at him then, he was willing to bet those long hours in her horridly pink office would be one of the first memories to pop up.
Amy considered the set of his face. "We'll stop there tonight, I think, but you should still practice. Saturday night, then."
She didn't have to dismiss him; as soon as she had named the next lesson, he was up the stairs and out of there.
* * * * *
When he went into the den, the last thing Harry expected to see was a knitting lesson, but there he found it. Amy was in the first quarter of a Gryffindor scarf, thicker and more luxurious than school issure, finishing off a row without looking at it while she studied the motion of Ginny's needles; she appeared to be starting a scarf of her own, this one out of yarn that moved through multiple shades of yellow. Hermione was working on - well, something. Either she was too close to just beginning it, or this was the first lesson, as Harry couldn't tell.
Amy spotted him lingering in the doorway and grinned. "You can come in; I won't force you to join."
"Oh, come in, Harry," Hermione said, face lit with SPEW fervor, this time for real. "What do you think of this sweater? I've only started." She held up the red bit she had done and - if he squinted - Harry thought he could make out a bit of a pattern.
"Erm - given up on scarves, socks, and hats then?" he asked hesitantly, lowering himself into an armchair as if it might bite or, worse, cause him to grab a pair of needles and a skein of particularly ugly green yarn and begin a dishcloth or something.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Dobby doesn't need any more of those, I could tell, but he doesn't have much in the way of shirts."
"These are . . . er . . . all for Dobby, then? The new ones you're making." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous action he couldn't help connect to Snape's memory of his father, but there were no girls by the lake for Harry to impress.
"And Winky, yes." Hermione frowned at the pattern.
"Purl two now," Amy supplied. "Then the pattern starts all over again, remember?" She reached the end of a row and quickly counted stitches.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks." The tip of her tongue stuck out at the corner of her mouth as she did as directed.
Ginny made a noise in the back of her throat, staring at what she had done with distaste. "Problem?" Harry asked, though it was obvious.
"I dropped a stitch," she complained, looking hopefully at Amy, who set her scarf aside and reached out for Ginny's, undoing a row or two before she could get it right and handing it back.
Harry frowned slightly, noticing the hint of something. "Is somebody wearing perfume?" he asked, looking around.
Hermione blushed. "I am. I used up my old scent and I'm wearing the stuff Ron got me for Christmas. Why, don't you like it?"
"No, it's just - I thought something smelled different, is all." He shrugged, feeling like he had absolutely nothing to do with his hands - which, in fact, he didn't.
"She's trying to see if Ron notices, but I think he's a bit dense," Ginny said matter-of-factly, content now that she had all her stitches back. "I mean, Christmas was forever ago -"
"Tell me about it," Amy muttered.
"- and she hasn't worn it until now, though I think it's rather nice, something wild-flowery." She looked up quickly over her clicking needles to smile at Hermione. "Better than that old stuff, you must admit. You could barely tell you were wearing any."
Hermione blushed deeper, the color of Ginny's hair, and was on the way to the red in Amy's scarf. "You know, we can change the subject at any time," she said hastily, more to the couple centimeters of sweater than to anyone in the room.
Amy glanced up at the grandfather clock. "Hermione, it's time - almost time for dinner. Why don't you girls go put your knitting away and head downstairs? I'm sure Molly will want to give some reason for Tonks not to set the table." They exchanged grins, though Harry decided to tail Hermione and Ginny than stay in the room with Amy.
"Just a minute, Harry," Hermione said as she went into their room, the door closed enough so that he couldn't see inside. Harry rolled his eyes. Girls: not only did they do everything in pairs, they made sure you couldn't get a glimpse of it, even if it was just - oh, the horror! - an unmade bed. But they were out soon enough, and they all trooped downstairs and into the kitchen, being swooped up in the flurry of activity, Mrs. Weasley and Tonks handling the silverware, the twins bewitching the plates to fly into their designated spots on the table under their mother's watchful eye, Mr. Weasley overseeing the cooking of dinner with Bill's help, and Ron already sitting at the table, looking rather useless. They had just begun to make their way over to him when the door banged open and someone clattered down the stairs, still taking off his traveling cloak and brushing the rain- soaked hair from his eyes.
"Molly," Professor Lupin said, draping the cloak on a hook by the stove to dry, "Severus took over for me, said I was needed urgently back here."
Mrs. Weasley looked neither surprised nor overly concerned. "Tonks, would you call the others down for dinner?" she asked, taking the last bit of silverware.
"Sure," Tonks said, knocking over the salt shaker on her way. The top had been loose and came off, sending a stream of white crystals across the table, but George swept it up quickly before she could start to apologize. Shrugging, she took the stairs two at a time, stuck her head out the door, and yelled, "Dinner!" Harry distinctly heard Mrs. Weasley mutter, "I could have done that myself," before helping her husband get dinner on the table.
Harry and Ron shared a puzzled look, wondering why no one had immediately taken Lupin from the room and explained whatever had caused Snape to take his place right away. Instead, Charlie and Amy came down the stairs. "We'll need to stock up on burn creams," Amy was saying.
"No, it's not that bad with a properly trained dragon," Charlie insisted. They saw his feet first and then the rest of him gradually appeared as he came down the stairs, halfway turned around to continue the conversation. "We've had this one since it was quite young, so we should be all right."
"If you insist," Amy said, sweeping the hair out of her eyes again as it was sticking to her forehead in the humidity. "I still think -"
"Amy." Lupin was looking at her, more than slightly shocked, his voice hoarser than usual. "Amy." He took a step toward her, not daring to believe that she was standing right there in front of him.
"Remus Lupin." Amy, who had stopped on the second-to-last step, unfroze and, a smile leaping to her face, practically shoved Charlie out of the way to leap into Lupin's arms, where they shared a kiss that would have put Roger Davies and his girlfriend to shame. Harry realized he was staring when Hermione nudged him.
"They haven't seen each other since Christmas," she said in a low voice.
"What about Easter?" Ron asked, eyes still glued on the pair.
"She only saw Sirius then," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "And it was only a couple of hours, anyway."
Amy and Lupin drew apart to draw breath and she reached up to touch his cheek and brush at his hair, still not quite sure he was real, even though she had been kissing him for quite long enough to know. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be days, wouldn't get here before I had to leave . . ."
"Severus took over for me. Said I was needed here." Lupin raised an eyebrow at that.
Amy hugged him tightly, tucking herself under his chin. "Remind me to thank him. Chocolates, the rich, expensive kind you have to pick out one at a time to put in the little gold box."
"If I must."
"Yeah, I think he kinda deserves it."
Harry tore his eyes away from them, mind whirling - what about Amy and Snape? Lupin was taking this all quite well, considering it had been that man's design to get him there - and saw that Tonks and Charlie were grinning at each other, his hand on top of hers on the table. This was turning into that coffee shop last Valentines Day. He was almost afraid to look at anyone else, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were dishing out the stew and passing around the cornbread. "Come on, while it's still hot!" she said briskly. Amy grinned sheepishly as she and Lupin took the two empty seats.
"Was it a good trip, Remus?" Tonks asked, though her eyes were focused on her aunt. Clearly, if Amy was going to threaten Tonks with Charlie, she was going to threaten her aunt with Lupin.
"Horrible. Rain the whole way. Dumbledore didn't want us using magic, considering - you know." He hastily broke off, noticing Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
"But you made it safe and sound in spite of it all," Mrs. Weasley said as if nothing had been edited, peaking the interest of the four Hogwarts students. Rain the entire way constituted an "in spite of it all"? Hardly, but she did not seem to realize she was giving out tantalizing hints.
Harry caught Lupin glancing at Amy. She looked as if the smile on her face was a bit forced, and Lupin gave her shoulders a squeeze. "It's not worth it," he said softly.
"Oh, isn't it?" Her eyes flashed defiantly as she lay down her spoon. "Just think, if you had given him a little more information last year . . ." Her voice was soft, but could have drilled a hole in a cement wall. Conversations were growing up around them, but Harry ignored these, as this seemed to be more important.
"Ames, Dumbledore already said he's learned his lesson."
"It's not just him, Remus. He's not a child anymore. Less than a year and he'll be able to do magic outside of school, much less make decisions for himself. I've seen enough to think he's ready now."
"It's not wise to pick fights within us," he said uneasily, glancing around the table. Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley was eyeing them suspiciously, though she turned back to Charlie as if nothing had been noticed. "That's what Voldemort wants, divisions."
"And he delights in the uninformed," she added, picking up her spoon again and continuing to eat. "I just think there's more we should be doing, is all."
"If you don't watch out, you're going to be accused of being Sirius," he warned her.
Amy's eyes flashed. "No one can take his place. But maybe I ought to start trying."
Harry felt something cold settle into the pit of his stomach despite the heat of the food he shoveled down quickly to avoid having to speak or look at anyone. After desert, he claimed fatigue and retreated to the room he shared with Ron, changing into his pajamas and sitting on top of the rumpled bedclothes. Amy, try to replace Sirius? She couldn't. how could she even think . . . how could she . . . didn't she realize . . . wasn't this just as hard for her as it was for him? Replace Sirius? She'd gotten it right the first time: no one could take his place. What was to be gained by trying?
When he heard footsteps outside an hour or so later, Harry hurriedly slipped between the covers, rolled over to face the wall, and pretended to be asleep. Replace Sirius. Hah. Like anyone who would cheat on Snape with Lupin . . . ugh, what was he saying? But that was true, wasn't it? Even if she hadn't kissed Snape like that - who'd want to? - she was still playing one of them for a sap. Right?
Harry wished desperately for the potion Madam Pomfrey had given him after the third Tri-Wizard task, the one that gave him immediate, dreamless sleep. As it was, even the stupid yoga mind techniques did nothing to help him - he kept connecting them with Amy.
It was a long, long time before his eyes closed in slumber.
* * * * *
Hermione looked at him over clicking needles. "Harry, what's wrong? You haven't said a word all day."
He made a noise in the back of his throat, having read the same line in Quidditch Through the Ages about seven times and only gotten a few words here and there.
"Well, he's not speaking, so we might as well start a new topic," Ginny said, mildly ticked off at her scarf. "Did you hear Mum and Amy this morning?"
"Talk about loud!" Ron said, looking amazed that Amy's volume was steady competition. He actually set down his new edition of the Quibbler, the one that had pages of Chudley Cannon pictures and an article about how their Keeper was actually Peter Pettigrew back from the dead, thinner, and with different hair (thick, brown, and curly). "Man, the Muggles must've heard that one . . ."
This was a surprise to Harry and Hermione. "What are you talking about?" she asked, looking pained as she tried to remember the next stitch sequence in the sweater.
"Oh, you didn't hear it up here?" Ginny said. "They must've put a charm on the kitchen door, it was horrible. I'm surprised Mrs. Black didn't wake up screaming, especially with what Mum was saying."
"Yeah, that's the last thing we need, his mum taking Amy's side," Ron said, looking earnest. "I mean, she's arguing for us, after all, she needs all the help she can get."
Ginny giggled. "Professor Lupin got out of there faster than I thought possible. Didn't want to have to choose sides."
"He's on ours, I'm sure, he just doesn't want to face Mum." Ron grinned, satisfied.
Hermione looked exasperated. "Well, what's this all about? What was your mum saying about Amy?"
"Oh, that . . ." Ginny grinned. "Amy cornered her after breakfast, said something like we've all faced full grown Death Eaters, we should know what's going on, or at least more than we do now."
"Not that she was arguing to get us in the Order, mind," Ron said. "Well, maybe you, Harry; she said you should be told the most, but admitted she might as well tell the three of us, just to keep you from spreading it around secretly." He grinned. "You should've heard her, mate: 'Harry's been through more in sixteen years than most Death Eaters have in their despicable lifetimes!' It was great!"
"What did she call Amy that Mrs. Black wouldn't like?" Hermione was losing patience.
Ginny cast a precautionary glance at Harry. "Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, please, but Mum said 'You're just like Sirius.'"
"Yeah, and Amy shot back, 'No, I'm not, but I'd certainly like to be, thanks.'" Ron laughed. "Mum's so mad, she thought she wouldn't have to argue with anybody about this any more, and then she comes in and starts in on her, saying you're practically an adult."
Harry's mouth went dry and he felt like kicking himself. Well, duh, if he'd even stopped to look at the context it would have been so simple: she wanted to be like Sirius in the essence that she wanted to fight for him to know, to be informed. He wasn't sure whether or not he should start feeling ashamed.
"But that's not all," Ginny said softly.
"Oh, yeah." Ron rumpled his hair, a nervous gesture. "See, Harry, Amy said she wasn't going to say anything, on account that you've got Mum and all, or that she's still pretty well connected to the Dark Side, which is why she didn't come forward earlier, what with Sirius and all . . ."
"Tell me when he starts making sense," Hermione muttered to Ginny.
"Harry, Amy's your godmother," Ginny said promptly.
He blinked. "Hey, wait - there's entirely another thing we haven't even come close to discussing!" Harry sputtered, not wanting to deal with that information right then.
The girls looked puzzled. "What?"
"Hello? Amy and Snape?" Wasn't it rather obvious?
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Harry, it's entirely possible for a girl to be good friends with one guy and in love with another. She and Snape are just friends."
"Oh yeah? What about when she begged him to stay? And when they left - what about then, huh?" He was desperate to keep Amy on the shady side of things, if only because it was easier to hate the person delving into the depths of your brain and reading your thoughts at will. And teaching you yoga. How could he forget that? Without the imminent threat of a curse, that seemed rather sissy and undignified.
Hermione looked at him as though she pitied him greatly. "There's a big difference between a kiss on the cheek and full-out snogging, Harry." She said it gently, as if explaining it to a small - and yet precocious - child. "She and Professor Lupin have been together for ages."
"Since when have you learned all this about her?" he demanded.
"Since we started knitting," Ginny said hastily, casting a glance at Hermione, who tried not to look too relieved. "You know, girl talk and stuff."
Ron made a face, picking up the Quibbler again. "Maybe we should really be glad we don't know all that goes on around here. Honestly, girl talk and stuff? I don't even want to know."
But Harry was not pacified. "Does Professor Lupin know about Snape?" he demanded.
Hermione gave him a look that clearly said "How dense can you get?" "Snape was the one who arranged to get Amy here and then took over for Professor Lupin so they could have time together."
"No, I mean, does he know about Snape," Harry stressed, trying out a few vague hand gestures to get his point across. "How close those two are or whatever."
Ginny sighed and made a face at her scarf. "Harry, weren't you the one who overheard Tonks accusing her aunt of practically the same thing? It's been discussed, been dragged out into the open -"
"That wasn't exactly open," Harry muttered. It was vaguer than his hand gestures has been.
"- and everyone that needs to be OK with it is OK with it," she finished, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she counted her stitches and prepared to attack another row.
"It's supposed to be getting easier, you realize," Hermione said, watching the younger girl struggle. "That's what practice is for."
"Tell that to the scarf," Ginny shot back, though her irritation was too great to be caused entirely by her knitting. "I think I need another knitting lesson."
Hermione groaned. "They're easier on you than they are on me," she said, though the sweater was not exactly knitting itself.
Harry and Ron shared a glance. "Don't look at me, mate," Ron said, flipping a page in the magazine and poking at a picture to wake its occupants up. "Girl stuff. I've five brothers, only one of her."
"More than I have," Harry muttered, turning back to his book. Occlumency was tomorrow night. Should he bring up the godmother-godson thing, or wait and see if she would? But if she was holding back because of Mrs. Weasley . . . well, anything was possible. He sighed, kneading his forehead with the heels of his hands. What I need, he decided, is less mystery, a whole book of answers to all my questions.
Before he went to bed that night, Harry was actually able to step back from the situation enough to have a good laugh at himself. A book of answers to his questions? Hah. Not even magic could do that. Harry caught the dark outline of Phineas in the portrait on the wall, clearly eyeing him and judging whether or not he had gone insane.
* * * * *
Harry had been debating with himself for half an hour, but it finally popped out just as Amy was preparing to hit him with his first round of Legilimens. "Why didn't you tell me you're my godmother?"
She blinked, lowering her wand out of complete surprise. "Who told you that?"
"Ron and Ginny. They heard their mum yelling at you."
Amy sighed, distractedly finger-combing her hair. "Their mum's the reason I didn't tell you."
"But that doesn't make any sense," Harry insisted. "I mean, she's not going to give you any more say with me than Sirius had."
"But she feels threatened by me," Amy countered. "Sirius wasn't trying to take her place as a mother, and she's afraid I will."
"You can't. Take her place, I mean," Harry added hastily, turning his wand over and over in his fingers.
"Yes, but Molly doesn't realize this." Hitching up her jeans, Amy took a seat on the edge of the table, one leg swinging free while the other kept her form falling off. "You honestly didn't hear? My word, she must've been quick with that charm . . ."
"Ginny - or was it Ron? Someone said Professor Lupin didn't even stay." Harry took a seat on the stairs, still turned to look at her.
She winced slightly. "Yeah, he probably caught her building up to 'I've raised seven children and you have none' argument."
Harry blinked, almost dropping his wand and catching it quickly. "Umm, if it's not too personal - what's that have to do with him? I mean, you're not married or anything . . ." He bit back an, "Are you?"
"No, we're not." Amy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "See, Harry, Molly knows that's a rather tender subject for us, one of the reasons Remus shies away from anything that might lead to discussion of children. I've known since I was eighteen I wasn't destined to be a mother."
"How'd you know that?"
She smiled softly. "I fell in love with Remus. Werewolves can't father children. Not that most of them even find them a position to consider it, mind, but still . . ."
OK, now that was straying a bit close to things he didn't need to know. "How'd you meet Professor Lupin?" That seemed safe.
Amy considered something a moment. "Have you been having any bad dreams lately? Scar paining you at all?"
"Uh . . . no."
"Don't look at me like I'm crazy, I just wanted to make sure you could skive off a lesson without getting me burned for it later," she said, hopping off the table and retrieving something out of the cupboard that held the dishes, something that looked like a bowl covered in strange runes. Putting her wand to her temple, Amy removed a few strands of memory and added them to the glowing silver liquid already there. "D'you think you'll be able to use this with permission?" she asked, turning away from the Pensieve with a smile glimmering in her eyes.
Harry grimaced slightly. "I dunno, after that last time I'm not all too keen to go diving in again."
"Aw, come on, I promise not to throw jars of pickled frogs' liver at you." Amy grabbed his wrist with her free hand, poking the mixture with he wand and then dipping her head in until her nose touched it.
The world was swirling around Harry, though all he could feel was Amy's hand keeping him with her as they flew. When she silvery smoke cleared they were in a dimly lit room, probably an attic room, Harry thought, and there was a girl curled up in a blanket in the window seat, reading a large and imposing book by an electric lantern strung up over her head. She had long black hair and thick bangs, both of which showed a slight hint of a curl, and she wore glasses with thick black rims. Her lips moved as she dragged a finger along the page, reading.
"And you wondered why I let my nose stay broken," the present-day Amy muttered. "Though I'd forgotten about the glasses."
"When are we?" Harry asked, looking around the room with curiosity. There was a mattress on the floor in the corner, surrounded by spell books and pots of ink, some with quills still in them. Rolls of parchment littered the wooden floor, though the oval braided rug was clear from any scraps, presumably another favorite place to sit as a desk lamp was perched on its edge.
"Summer after I graduated. I'm studying for Healer training. School Healers have it the worst; we have to know everything equally well. Normal training's two years, I had four, and they considered me quick." She pulled a face. "Maybe I started the memory too early. No, wait -" Amy paused. "He's coming."
Harry was just about to ask "Who?" when the footsteps on the stairs grew louder and the door banged open, revealing a young and beaming Sirius with short hair. If Amy had just graduated, she was in the neighborhood of eighteen, which meant Sirius was twenty-two. "Ames, he's here!" Sirius said, bounding across the room to pull the book from her hands.
"Wait - no - Sirius, I'm studying!" Amy cried as notes slipped out from between the pages. "Hey - give that back!"
Sirius danced out of her reach. "Harry James Potter!"
"What?" Harry had actually spoken aloud before he realized it must be July 31. They were talking about him, and he was just born.
Amy stopped chasing after the scraps of parchment and brushed her bangs away to look up at him. "You're joking. They didn't name him something horrible? And when I say that, I mean something you suggested," she said, grabbing her book back and throwing it on the window seat. "Come on, if they've told you we can go - grab the Floo Powder -"
"Got it!" Sirius shoved some from his pocket into her hand.
Amy gave him a withering look. "Sirius, it's never going to all come out of there, you'll be wearing those jeans and walking into fires and you're bottom half'll whip away before you've dropped enough powder for your top."
"That's what Healers like you are for, Ames. Come on! St. Mungo's!" Sirius called, having conjured up a fire in the dark fireplace while Amy was complaining about his jeans. Sighing, Amy stepped in.
"Hold on, this gets freaky," the present-day Amy said, grabbing Harry's hand again. Indeed, Floo Powder in real life was a bit of a strange trip, but in a memory the colors whirled around them and they were belched out of the St. Mungo's fireplace with even less ceremony, almost tumbling to the ground. "C'mon, we've got to keep up," Amy said, grabbing his wrist again. "Seriously, we could've won a marathon that night." They took off down the hallway and up the stairs, following Amy and Sirius.
"Here," Sirius said, grabbing the young Amy's hand as they reached a room. "Come on - we're godparents!"
Harry stopped watching his godfather when they went into the hospital room and James grabbed Amy and Sirius in an enthusiastic hug, knocking his glasses askew. "He's perfect!" James said, shoving them back up on his nose and hurrying the newly arrived pair to Lily's bedside.
Harry's mum was glowing, looking exhausted as her hair lay fanned out limply on the pillow, but she was radiant. "He's asleep," she whispered, passing the small bundle that was her son to Amy.
Amy looked down on him with perfect joy on her face. "Oh, Lil, he looks like he's going to be a stud like James!"
Lily laughed as her husband took her hand and kissed it fondly. "He certainly has his father's appetite."
Sirius peered over his sister's shoulder at the sleeping baby. "He's so tiny."
"D'you want to hold him?" Amy offered, turning to him.
Sirius held up his hands, backing away and looking a bit scared at the thought. "No, I'd drop him."
"You wouldn't, because then I'd kill you," James said, but his grin was fixed on his son.
"That's about all that happened that night," the present day Amy said, and the voices seemed to fade in volume. "I just thought you'd want to see that." She wasn't looking at him, focusing instead on her memory of Sirius.
"Yeah," Harry said, looking at his parents. "She really loved him, right?" Snape's memory from this same Pensieve was still haunting him.
"Lily and James? Absolutely." Amy smiled fondly at the woman who had chosen her as godmother. "Said James was exasperating at times, but loved him more than anything. Those two . . . when they weren't holding hands, he was always scanning the room for her like she'd get lost or something, and she always winked at him when he looked so relieved to see her again."
The scene swirled and when it had calmed they were in the same room, but the sun was high overhead. "This is the next day," Amy provided. She and Sirius were there, and Lily was sitting in the armchair, holding baby Harry, whose eyes were opened. "This is when Remus realized I existed."
The sound came back on when she had finished speaking and the door to the room banged open, showing a slightly pink Wormtail holding a bouquet of flowers, followed by a young Lupin. Because he had no fond feelings for the other man, Harry studied his old professor. His hair was in need of cutting, brushing the collar of his shirt, but he looked fine and healthy, so the full moon must have been some days away. "Congratulations," Wormtail squeaked, holding out the flowers like a shield.
Lily laughed, allowing James to take them and conjure up a vase. "Thanks, Peter. This is Harry."
Harry - the baby - regarded the newcomer with wide eyes.
"How are you, Lily?" Lupin asked, smiling and sliding his finger into Harry's little hand, laughing when Harry gripped it tightly.
"Wonderful," Lily said sincerely.
"As usual," James said affectionately, sitting on the arm of the chair and putting an arm around his wife. Lupin looked slightly sad at this, though Harry now thought it might be because that - even if he ever found a wife - Lupin would not be sharing such a moment with her. Harry could not look at Amy after thinking that.
It was then that Wormtail noticed the other two. "Hi, Sirius," he piped up, looking almost surprised to see him.
"Sirius's godfather, of course," James supplied, "and this is Amy - you've met her before, haven't you, Wormtail? She's godmother."
"Yeah, we've met," Amy said, shaking his hand.
Remus had stopped looking at Harry and was staring at Amy. Granted, she was wearing contacts and had brushed her hair to a shine, but he seemed to think she had just descended from heaven for a bit of fun. "You were fourteen then," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, though not from the battering of years.
The young Amy nervously rubbed her nose, no doubt remembering how it had looked the last time he had seen her. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."
There was a moment of silence, James and Lily sharing a wink, Peter looking as if nothing were going on, and Sirius trying to figure out exactly what Lupin saw in his little sister.
Lupin finally cleared his throat. "D'you want to go get a cup of tea?"
Amy blushed, not looking at the others. "Sure."
They walked out of the room together, and, as the vision faded, Harry distinctly head Sirius say, "Sure, Moony, I'd love something to drink, let me come with you."
The colors swirled more violently than before and, when things finally stopped spinning, Harry was back on the floor of the kitchen, blinking and trying to make sure his head was on straight. "He asked you for tea?" he finally managed, climbing to his feet.
Amy looked up from transferring the memories back into her head. "Yeah. Tea, at St. Mungo's. Wild first date, huh?" She grinned. "Oh, well. Whatever works."
Harry hesitated a moment. "Thanks," he said finally. "For showing me that."
She smiled at him, a real, pure smile. "My pleasure. Now, run along - I'm sure it's late."
Harry was in bed and almost asleep before he realized that seeing Sirius like that hadn't brought on any of the usual, painful symptoms. He had only felt happy to see him, happy to see him happy. Wondering slightly at that, Harry drifted off to sleep, wondering if maybe he had been wrong about Amy, after all. When Ron started snoring five minutes later, he was in the middle of a nice dream and didn't even twitch.
* * * * *
August 29 came in and saw number twelve, Grimmauld Place full with activity as Amy had to be off to Hogwarts to settle in before the students arrived. Amy was sure she was going to leave something behind, running up and down the stairs with a checklist in hand and staring nervously at her trunk and duffle bag by the door, traveling cloak slung over them both. Hermione came down. "I checked your room, you've left nothing there," she said, slightly out of breath.
Amy shook her head. "There's something wrong here, I just know it."
"You know, you always feel that way when you're doing something you're not entirely sure you want to do," Professor Lupin said, coming out of the den and leaning on the railing up above to look down at them as Harry joined Hermione in sitting, taking the step three beneath hers. "And there's nothing in there hat you've forgot, unless you dropped a Galleon between the couch cushions."
"Nothing down here," Ginny called as she and Ron came up out of the kitchen.
Amy looked rather pained, trying to think. "I got the Pensieve, Dumbledore'd give me one of those looks if I left it . . . Does anyone have a Remembrall? I could really use one . . ."
"Nothing in the attic," Tonks called, having joined Lupin at the first floor railing. "Well, actually there's a ton in the attic, and a couple boxes with your name on them, but they're old cloths and stuff, utterly horrible. You really don't have any fashion sense, you know."
"We've checked everywhere," Mrs. Weasley assured her, coming out of the door to the sitting room on the ground floor, wiping her hands on her apron. "Listen, Charlie's already gone, why don't you go ahead and we'll send anything along as we find it?"
Harry moved aside as Professor Lupin came down the stairs. They were all in place, all trying to hide secretive smiles and giggles about what they knew was about to unfold. Ginny and Hermione had almost fainted with delight when the plan was presented, causing Ron to roll his eyes and mutter "Girls," but he had to admit, he didn't want to miss it. Harry had been afraid she'd somehow drag it out of him during an Occlumency lesson, but their next one was set up for the hospital wing on September 3, so they were safe there.
Amy turned to her trunk, moving the cloak slightly and laughing as she finally caught sight of what was bothering her, a black briefcase that said, in silver letters, LUPIN. "Remus, what's that doing here?" she asked, straightening up with her hand on her hip.
"Oh, it's for you. Chocolates, the rich, expensive kind you have to pick out one at a time to put in the little gold box. Two boxes, actually, one for you and one for Severus." He was grinning as he said it, especially when she laughed again and hugged him impulsively.
"Remus, that's sweet!"
"They're identical," he added. "So you won't go picking through his and take all the ones you like before you give them to him."
Harry tried to be patient as Amy kissed Professor Lupin, turning around to look up at Hermione, but she was gazing at them and looking a bit misty- eyed.
"But I can put those in my trunk, no problem," Amy said when she pulled away. "There's room, you can have your briefcase back."
"Oh, but I don't think that's mine," he said airily."
Harry sat up. Finally, he thought. He couldn't see how Professor Lupin was standing this. Then again, he'd already confessed to putting this off too long already, but still.
"Of course it is," Amy said, laughing again. "Look at it." She pulled her cloak aside, not really reading the letters as she thought she knew that they'd say. "See, right there -" The sight brought her up short. Tonks was leaning over the railing so far Harry was afraid she'd fall, landing on her hot-pink head and just barely missing Mrs. Weasley, who had the corner of her apron poised near her eye, in case she needed it. Amy finally found her voice. "It says AMY B LUPIN."
"It does, doesn't it?" Remus said, bending to pick it up. "And I might not have been entirely correct when I told you what was in it." He balanced the briefcase on the railing post at the bottom of the stairs, clicking both silver latches to open it, revealing the two gold boxes as advertised - and a small black velvet box. "Amy," Professor Lupin said, taking the box, turning around, and kneeling before her as he opened it, "will you marry me?"
Does he even need to ask? Harry thought as Amy clapped a hand to her mouth, completely shocked. "Did you - all of you -" she looked around to where they were all posed, Hermione almost biting her fingernails, Ginny hugging herself happily, Tonks gripping the railing with white knuckles, Mrs. Weasley putting her apron to use, and Ron and Harry looking like complete guys and just mentally wiling her to tell Lupin Yes. "You had this all planned?"
Lupin grinned at her. "So you couldn't say no."
Amy laughed again, looking close to tears herself. "I'd never say no, Remus Lupin. Of course I'll be your wife." He barely had the ring on her finger before she grabbed his collar and "made" him kiss her.
Later, up in the den, Ron leaned close to Harry so the girls wouldn't hear him whisper, "Thought she'd never get out of there, they were stuck together so tightly."
Harry hid his smile behind his hand, making sure Ginny and Hermione were chatting animatedly about how romantic it was, how special and all that as they continued to knit with their usual winces and mutterings as they struggled through. "Did you see Tonks? Thought she'd jump off, sure as anything."
"And Mum." Ron rolled his eyes. "She'll tear up at anything these days, honestly."
Harry nudged his pawn forward a space, trying not to look as though he was having trouble figuring out how best to pummel Ron. "She seemed to like it, though. Amy, I mean."
"Of course she liked it," Hermione said, exasperated. "They've been together sixteen years, why not make it a permanent thing? And it was so romantic, so unexpected . . ."
"I would've found it more unexpected had Professor Lupin said, 'Find a way to get into the entryway right before Amy leaves, I'm proposing,'" Ron said helpfully, crushing Harry's bishop with his knight and earning himself a rap in the head with a knitting needle. "Hey!" he complained, eyes watering as he rubbed his noggin. "What was that for?"
"For being completely insensitive," Hermione sniffed. "It was wonderful, and beautiful, and Amy had no idea that it was happening."
"Oh, come on," Harry said, not willing to go that far, brave enough to say something because Hermione was too far away to reach him. "They must've discussed marriage at least some before he did that."
"Not for a few years," Ginny said. "They loosely agreed that it would be easiest on her to keep up her little charade if she wasn't married to an obvious good guy, and a werewolf at that."
"When she says that, she means Professor Lupin said it, and Amy grudgingly agreed," Hermione clarified. "I mean, listening to her those two've been a sure thing for ages."
"Sixteen years," Harry said distractedly. He was running out of time to make a spectacular kill, though his remaining knight was rather willing to go kamikaze and kept telling him what to do. "They had their first date the day after I was born."
Ron blinked. "Hey, mate, they haven't roped you into knitting or anything, have they?"
Harry shook his head, aware Hermione and Ginny were interested. He hadn't said a word about that particular Pensieve experience, mostly because he wanted to treasure it to himself, keep it as a nice warm secret to take out and examine when things looked a bit bleak. "Occlumency lesson," he said vaguely, hoping they would assume it had something to do with him blocking the curse and reading her mind instead of the other way around.
It worked. Three seconds later the girls were on to discussing the perfect wedding dress for Amy. Three minutes later - Harry was surprised it had taken that long - Ron had slaughtered him and the pieces were on their way to mending to they could play again. It was only in bed later that night, in a passing thought, that Harry wondered what Snape would say when he saw the diamond ring on Amy's finger. Picturing the expression on the Potions professor's face, he smiled and fell into a peaceful sleep, one that ended in a fall into a shadowy place that was vaguely familiar and rather comforting before the dream shifted into something involving flying pigs, fireworks, and wigs made out of sawdust, the usual nonsense not remembered upon waking the next morning.