For once the door was closed and locked, though his curiosity was too great
to let him stay away. Raising a hand, Harry was just about to knock when
the door opened and Moody beckoned him in.
The last bed at the far end on the right was the center of attention. Dumbledore stood quietly at its foot as Amy bent over its occupant. Though she looked concerned, the healer seemed convinced that no permanent harm would come to the patient. Snape was in the way of Harry seeing who it was.
Nodding once, Amy straightened and went to a large cupboard nearby, selecting a few bottles and some bandages. "Severus, you need to rest," she said briskly, depositing them on the bedside table and straightening them out.
Snape shook his head weakly. "No time for that now, Amy, I -"
But she had a steely glint in her eye as she came around to his side of the bed. "Are you the healer here or am I?"
"Amy -"
"It certainly won't kill you to sit," she snapped, uncharacteristically brisk as she took his shoulders and - well, she didn't force him; it was more like controlling his fall into the chair behind him. Leaning across the bed, Amy snagged a bottle and a cup, pouring out some steaming potion and thrusting into his hands. "Drink that. Then talk." Leaving him there, she returned to the other side of the bed and Harry caught sight of the head on the pillow - Lupin. An icicle slid near his heart as he saw his former professor's pale face and the cold sweat on his brow.
Moody, whose eye had been turned all the way around in his socket, suddenly moved to open the door again, and Charlie Weasley fairly flew in, skidding to a stop and looking around wildly. "Where is she?" he asked in a voice almost as hoarse as Lupin's.
Amy took a deep breath, though her eyes were on her hands, steady as she mixed another potion. "Captured."
"Lured away," Snape corrected, slumped back in the chair and - for once in his life - looking unintimidating. "They had her mother." His voice was dull and lifeless, something like that of the young Barty Crouch after he had partaken of a truth potion.
Amy looked up sharply. "They had Anna."
He nodded once. "That letter was real, written in her hand while she was under the Imperius Curse. They were right; it made Tonks more willing to take risks, to try and save her."
Vaguely Harry remembered the letter Tonks had received, saying her mother had joined Bellatrix Lestrange as a Death Eater. Still, he stayed silent, trying his best to blend in with the shadows.
"All is not lost, Charlie," Dumbledore said gently, folding his hands into his sleeves.
"Then where -?"
Silently Dumbledore pointed a long finger to a cage on a table in the back. Charlie blinked, hesitating a moment before going for a closer look. "And he -?"
"Wormtail most unfortunately had his facts wrong," Snape said dryly. "It's silver bullets, not silver in any form."
Harry blinked. Silver hand . . . a werewolf lying still . . . "Amy?" he asked hesitantly, stepping forward.
She lifted her head, quickly covering the wounds on Lupin's chest with the sheet. "He'll be fine," she said quietly.
"Given a fortnight, with rest," Snape corrected, attempting a laugh of sorts.
"Yes, and it'll take you just as long if you don't finish that potion and allow yourself the rest you need," Amy snapped back at him. "Potions masters and healers make the worst patients," she muttered, dipping a cloth in cool water and wiping Lupin's forehead.
Harry took a deep breath. "Is he - Wormtail, I mean - stuck as a rat, then?"
Moody clunked up behind him. "You see, Potter," he said, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders and steering him forcibly to the cage, "there's a spell to make him human again, but no spell to keep him as a rat. And by that I mean 'in rat form,' of course," the Auror said, uttering a dry laugh. "So we simply made the cage Unbreakable."
Blinking in the dim light, Harry leant forward to take a closer look at the rat. Its entire right from paw was missing. "Then you took away the silver one?"
Snape snorted, downing the last of his potion and leaving the goblet on a table nearby. "Damn tricky thing to do. The Dark Lord's handiwork isn't easily undone." Unconsciously the fingers of the professor's right hand strayed to his left forearm and the Mark that was hidden by his sleeve.
Charlie seemed to start out of a reverie. "And did he tell you anything?" he demanded, sweeping his hair off his face with one hand and gesturing savagely to the rat with his other. "Did he give you any information about the - the you-know-what?" His stutter had been accompanied by a quick glance at Harry, the only person in the room who was not a member of the Order.
"There will be time for that later," Dumbledore said softly, blue eyes resting lightly on the second eldest Weasley. "We know we only have a small window in which to ferret out information on the whereabouts and well-being of Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks, while we can be certain that Wormtail will be safe in my office under the watchful eye of Fawkes."
At the mention of Tonks, Charlie stiffened again. "How did they get her?" he asked tightly, eyes burning as he turned them on Snape. "What happened?"
"We suspect the Imperius Curse again," the professor said calmly, though this was only a mask for the exhaustion he felt. Harry was surprised Snape was even answering. "She was tricked into thinking her mother was willing to come but, at the last moment, Anna seized her daughter and proceeded to drag her away. I was already giving all my energy to saving Remus; I regret that I had none left for her." Indeed, Snape almost looked regretful, although emotions usually did not find their way onto his face unless they were disgust, smugness, gloating, or utter loathing, all of which Harry had experienced for himself.
Dumbledore broke the moment of silence before it could stretch too long. "Shall I cancel this morning's Potion lesson?" he asked, as though that had been the topic all along.
Amy glanced up. "Mad-Eye, how good are you with advanced poisons?" she asked wearily.
His blue eye swiveled. "That the lesson plan on your desk?"
She nodded. "I'd be grateful."
"Yes, they are already behind one lesson," Snape said, though his eyes lacked their usual piercing quality as he glanced pointedly at Amy.
"No, we aren't, sir," Harry corrected. "We had a make-up day."
Amy gave him a small smile, ignoring the look of - shock? Or was it pleasure? - on the professor's face.
Moody emerged from Amy's office, roll of parchment under his arm. "Come on, Potter," he said, this time giving Harry a prod between the shoulder blade. "Potions calls."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, causing him to turn. "I trust you keep your Secrets safe."
A glance at Amy told Harry how Dumbledore might have found out. "Yeah, I - I think so."
The headmaster nodded. "Good. Run along; advanced poisons are not to be missed, especially if one desires to become an Auror."
Managing a smile at that, Harry followed Moody out the door. The Auror made sure to lock it securely behind them
* * * * *
Snow fell in the last week before holidays, making the trek to the greenhouses and Hagrid's hut rather difficult. Hermione even relented and spent an evening teaching Harry and Ron the wand motion to make hot air blow out of the end so paths could be melted and robes dried.
The Saturday before the last week of school, Amy invited them to the hospital wing for afternoon tea. Ginny, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were pleased to see Professor Lupin sitting up, and he even gave them a weak smile. "Wish I could join you," he said, eyeing the small table with envy, "but . . ." He indicated the steaming goblet, full of Wolfsbane Potion, and made a face.
"At least it's not happening on Christmas this year," Amy said, emerging from her office with a tray of cookies and small cakes, bending to kiss his forehead before she set it down.
He laughed hoarsely. "Talk about ripping the wrapping paper off presents . . ."
Harry and Ron grinned at each other - he sounded much like his old self - and helped themselves to cookies, still warm, as Amy fetched a carpet bag from the corner, perching on the foot of Remus's bed and dumping the contents out on the white sheets. The boys tried not to groan as the girls looked eagerly through the selection of fake flowers.
"Darker ones, we've decided," Amy said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Because it's a winter wedding."
"Even if that dress doesn't come in," Lupin added sternly. "She's intent on waiting for it," he explained to the others.
"With as much as that thing costs - and where would I wear it otherwise?" she demanded, plucking out a deep red rose and twirling it in her fingers.
"To a Yule Ball, maybe," Hermione mused. She had picked out the lilies and baby's breath and set them aside.
Ron blinked. "Wait - you're getting married at my house?"
Lupin sighed. "The Bahamas are too far away. . . ."
He frowned and began ticking off on his fingers. "Mum and Dad, Ginny, me, the twins and Charlie and Bill are home for the holidays, you, you" - he nodded to Lupin and Amy - "Harry . . ."
Lupin rolled his eyes. "You forgot Severus."
Harry chocked on a cookie. "Snape's coming?"
"Amy and I are engaged, remember?" The professor's oily voice came from behind them.
"Sev! Draw up a chair. Budge over, would you?" Amy asked Harry, and he obligingly scooted closer to Ron.
"I only came to show you this," the professor cut in smoothly, and Harry could not help but feel more than a bit relieved. He handed her a letter, already opened.
Quickly glancing at the address - it read "Professor S. Snape, Hogwarts" - Amy tore it open, eyes skimming the contents and growing wide as they did. "Oh, Severus, I'm sorry," she said, passing it to Lupin, who read it quickly.
Snape shrugged, taking it back and stowing it in a pocket of his robes. "They weren't much use to me alive," he said, voice carefully neutral as he turned and left the room. After only a moment of hesitation Amy took off after him.
The students turned to Professor Lupin. He sighed, running his hand through his hair and collapsing back against the pillow. "One thing you probably don't know about Severus Snape," he said heavily, "is that his parents were never accused of being Dark minded."
Harry blinked. "What? But I thought Snape -"
Lupin held up a hand. "He was. But his parents, although . . . well . . . rather awful, were actually enemies of Voldemort."
"What does that have to do with this?" Ron asked, clearly confused.
He sighed. "They were found dead in their home early this morning. Although the Ministry is keeping it quiet, they expect it was the work of the Death Eaters."
Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance, and the four of them quickly finished their tea before excusing themselves quietly.
Ron snorted as they moved out into the hallway, making sure no one else was around. "His parents weren't dark, my foot!"
"Well, look at Sirius," Hermione reasoned. "You know what the rest of his family was like, and he wasn't Dark."
"But that's different," Ron argued.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked away.
Later that evening, Harry decided to get his dad's Invisibility Cloak out again and make a trip down to see Amy. Ron had been in a bad mood for the rest of the afternoon - Hermione was ignoring him - so Harry decided not to tell either of them where he was going, much less invite them along.
The halls were deserted. Pulling the Marauder's Map from his pocket, Harry made sure Mrs. Norris was on the second floor, Filch was in the trophy room, and Snape was - he blinked. Snape was in the hospital wing, the little dot with his name pacing. Amy was there, too, though the dot labeled "Remus Lupin" had been moved back into his private room. Sighing, Harry was about to give up. Then he noticed a third dot in the Hospital Wing.
Moving both silently and quickly under the cloak was something Harry should have mastered by then, and he did manage to get to the room in time to see Lucius Malfoy emerging from - a spider, maybe? Harry had seen Sirius change from dog to man enough to know that the elder Malfoy, too, was an unregistered Animagus. He barely managed to slip inside before the Death Eater shut the door firmly, locking it with a spell only a wizard could break. Snape had stopped pacing and crossed to Amy, putting a protective arm around her. Amy looked like she had been crying.
"I don't know why I keep coming back here." Mr. Malfoy was taking off the thin black gloves he wore. "I just needed to know it was true."
"When our Master demands something of us, we cannot refuse him, Lucius," Snape said, voice silky as ever.
Mr. Malfoy took a deep breath. Harry was amazed to see some trace of emotion on his face, as if one word would send him into hysterics. "Well," he said slowly, eyes on his gloves as he folded them meticulously, "at least it's one of our own and not some - some Mudblood, or some Muggle- lover."
Amy's lip trembled and it was obvious she was avoiding looking at Snape. "Lucius, I'm sorry," she said, voice breaking. "But you - there would be no question anymore about where my loyalties lie, and the Dark Lord knows this. At least Severus has managed to convince them he turned spy at You- Know-Who's downfall."
Harry's mind was spinning. Snape, a Death Eater still? But Voldemort had said . . . three of them at Hogwarts: one loyal, one coward, and one who had left him forever. Moody/Barty Crouch had been the loyal follower, Harry was sure, and Karkarof had fled and failed to resurface, meaning he was the second. He might even be dead; Harry couldn't think of anyone who would miss him. That meant Snape had left him forever . . . right? Obviously, as Hermione had told them so often, the Potions professor could not have Disapparated within Hogwarts grounds.
Lucius was speaking again. "I would have made you happy." He said it as though Snape were not there, and the Potions professor fixed him with a steely glare.
"Sometimes we have no control over where we have to find happiness." Amy's voice was soft, though the gaze she had fixed on him was almost - Harry blinked - loving. It was the way she looked at Professor Lupin, except . . . well . . . it couldn't be. Right?
Mr. Malfoy nodded once. "Very well." He turned to leave.
"Lucius!" The word was torn from Amy's throat. As he turned, she shrugged off Snape's arm and ran to him. Harry took a step back in surprise, almost trodding on his robe and falling. Amy ran into Mr. Malfoy's arms, letting tears fall as she kissed him passionately. It was like a horrible car wreck, so awful Harry could not look away. Out of the corner of his eye he sensed that Snape had fixed his glare on the wall three meters to their left so he would not have to look at them.
The kiss lasted a lifetime, Harry was sure, but Mr. Malfoy finally pulled back, gently unhooking her arms from behind his neck. Then, wordlessly, he unlocked the door and opened it a crack. A moment later a tarantula the size of Harry's hand scuttled out into the hallway.
All business, Snape strode across the room and shut the door. "I told you that you didn't have to do that," he said almost sternly.
"It was more believable that way," Amy protested, drying her eyes almost angrily on her sleeve. "I bought some wonderful mouthwash just for the occasion and plan to drink the entire bottle straight away."
He frowned, crossing his arms. "He thinks you love him."
"Delusions of grandeur, that." She was making faces as though trying to get a film off her tongue. "Can't even French kiss properly."
"And I suppose Remus could give him a few lessons?" Snape asked with a dry smile.
The grin on Amy's face quickly changed to a look of disgust. "Ew! Sev!" she admonished, cuffing him on the shoulder. "Don't even . . . I . . . That's just wrong!" she finished, shuddering for effect. "The only one Remus is going to be kissing is me, and I hope to God I never have to do anything like that again!" She gestured savagely to the door, still closed, or else Harry would have tried to slip out.
"I -" Snape paled slightly, suddenly grabbing his left forearm.
Amy understood. "Go on, you've no excuse tonight."
"Sure, and maybe Lucius and I could carpool," he said wryly, opening the door. Harry slipped out before him and Snape hurried off down the hall, probably to Hogsmeade, Harry thought, so he could Apparate by Voldemort's side for whatever reason the Death Eaters had been summoned.
Harry Amy one last look - she didn't linger, merely pushing the door shut - before heading off to bed, dearly wishing Ron and Hermione might have stayed up talking so he could get this off his chest immediately and not have to wait for morning.
* * * * *
In the morning, Ron and Hermione were stiff and cordial, not even looking at each other but talking normally to Harry, who couldn't understand what had caused such a thing in the first place. It wasn't until Charms that Harry was able to explain what was going on.
"I don't see what the big deal is, Harry," Ron said, angrily jabbing his wand at the white rat he was supposed to be turning colors. His annoyance was more of the fact that Hermione had put hers through a rainbow before he had even managed to turn his yellow - and that the spell was nothing like what the twins had slipped him years ago.
Even Hermione wasn't overly concerned. "So he's still a spy. It's not all that terrible, Harry, and it probably helps both him and Amy. She got rid of Mr. Malfoy, didn't she?"
Harry shook his head, ticking off on his fingers. "One too cowardly to return, one who left Voldemort forever, and one who was his most faithful servant."
They still looked blank.
"The night of the third Task!" Harry hissed quietly. "There were three Death Eaters at Hogwarts: the coward, the traitor, and the servant."
Ron blinked. "And we always thought the coward was Karkaroff, the traitor was Snape, and the servant was that old -
"Ron!"
"- pretending to be Moody," he finished. "Honestly, Hermione, didn't think you held with that kind of criminality."
"Oh, it's Polyjuice Potion," she said loftily. "I happen to have a - erm - soft spot for that."
After waiting for Flitwick to pass - and turning his rat a horrid shade that Hermione deemed "puce" - Harry got back down to business. "But they don't think Snape's a traitor."
"Hang on." Ron sat up, scratching his chin with the tip of his wand and leaving a blue smear that neither Harry nor Hermione was inclined to point out. "You said he passed a few of them, didn't you?"
"Yes . . ."
"But that still only leaves us with two out of three," Hermione pointed out. "And we still are assuming Voldemort meant Crouch was his faithful servant."
"He was going to kill me, remember?" Harry pointed out bitterly. "And Snape wasn't going to do anything."
"But Voldemort still thinks him faithful," Hermione pondered, ignoring Ron's shudders every time that name was mentioned.
Harry shrugged, poking at his rat and turning it more of an aqua than the green he was trying for. "Then it's only fair to assume there was another Death Eater at the Third Task."
Hermione frowned, carefully striping the fur of her rat into a rainbow. "How many empty spaces were there in the circle?" she asked at last.
Giving her a "What, you think I remember it exactly?" look, Harry found he could picture it very well. "Ummm . . . those three, the Lestranges, and probably five or six other spaces. Or ten or twelve skinny people . . ." He attempted a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood and stop the memory from progressing any further.
Hermione shook her head. "Another Death Eater," she muttered to herself.
Harry sat straight up. "Bagman."
Ron snorted. "That lout's not smart enough to be a Death Eater."
"He was accused." Harry's mind was working overtime. "And he fled right after the Third Task."
"Because of the goblins," Ron argued, but Hermione was looking like she had just been given her N.E.W.T.s and knew every answer perfectly.
"That's right," she said softly. "He left before speaking with anyone. Besides, he was also trying to get Harry through the tasks . . ."
"That makes more of a 'loyal servant,' doesn't it?" Ron was still sticking to his guns.
Hermione shrugged. "Then Karkaroff left him forever and Bagman was the coward."
"Because he fled when I came back alive," Harry marveled. "Or - well, maybe Voldemort knew he was going to run."
Hermione shrugged. "And why are you taking Occlumency lessons?"
"Ah . . . good point." He smiled sheepishly.
Ron looked thoroughly deflated. "Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater?" he tried one last time.
"He hasn't been seen much since then," Hermione pointed out.
Ron looked like he wanted to cry. "But he was the best Beater -"
She gave him a Look.
Ron sighed. "Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater," he agreed dejectedly.
Harry nodded once. Though the information was not very encouraging, it was nice not to have a loose end hanging around.
* * * * *
When the list was passed around for people to sign if they were staying at Hogwarts, Harry smiled and let it pass him by. Amy was in a bit of a tizzy as holidays approached, especially with increasing popularity of Skiving Snackboxes among forth years wishing to get out of possibly being poisoned by Snape and fifth- and seventh years wanting to get out of . . . well . . . anything.
When the morning came and all trunks, animals, and students were loaded onto the Hogwarts Express to go home for the holidays, Ron looked a little concerned. "We're never going to all fit at home," he muttered, casting a glance back to the castle. Harry knew he was thinking about the three people still to come: Amy, Professor Lupin, and Snape.
They were met at the station by what Mr. Weasley assured them was a completely Muggle car - except for the expanding boot and back seat, of course. Mrs. Weasley looked a little too relieved to see them, but Harry didn't want to risk getting the evil eye from Hermione by asking why. She and Ron had apparently decided to drop all past spats and were acting like their old selves.
Moving into the Burrow was a bit of a trick with all the Wealseys save Percy home for the holidays. The twins, Ron, and Harry were in Ron's room; Charlie, Bill, and Professor Lupin were in the twins'; Hermione, Ginny, and Amy were in Ginny's room; and Snape was in Percy's. Each of the bedrooms was utterly crowded with extra mattresses and heavy down quilts and everyone knew that they would not be spending much time there, anyway.
On the second morning, Harry awoke late to the smell of something baking downstairs. Rousing Ron, the two went to investigate, pausing in shock as they caught sight of the kitchen. Where both had expected to find Mrs. Weasley, they were met with a most unlikely duo: Amy - and Snape.
Amy looked slightly exasperated as Snape was placing even dollops of cookie dough on a sheet in preparation for the oven. "Sev, look: even a starving man couldn't eat that much in one sitting," she protested.
"Then he can share one with his closest friends instead of swallowing them in one bite," the professor said in a clipped tone, glancing almost scornfully at a tray set out to cool. For once Harry had to agree: the cookies, though reasonable, looked rather small.
"Come on," Ron hissed, plucking at Harry's sleeve and steering him into the living room where Professor Lupin was sitting with a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet.
He looked up. "Did you know," he said conversationally, "that it is highly dangerous to allow either a Healer or a Potions Professor into the kitchen?"
Harry blinked, plopping down in an armchair and taking a slice of toast from a plate on the end table. "What?"
The professor nodded. "You see, both professions involved exact measuring and mixing and all that, so it's generally a disaster area."
"What's going on in there, then?" Ron demanded, sweeping an arm back to the kitchen.
"Ah." Lupin held up a finger. "But, if both are allowed in at the same time and only once a year, and everyone else knows enough to stay away, the cookies are delicious. Just don't pick favorites."
Harry and Ron shared a look. "You . . . know this from experience?"
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Plenty. And let me tell you - Severus's sugar cookies are nothing to laugh at, but it's the pumpkin flavored ones that almost rival any of Amy's."
Still trying to wrap his mind around Snape baking - and obviously having a hard time with it - Ron blinked. "Then they do this every Christmas?"
"Every single one for years," the former professor informed him, showing that it really wasn't something so amazing by picking up the paper again. "I, of course, have learned to stay out of the kitchen until it's time to decorate the cookies."
A sudden image of Snape in a pink flowered apron, lovingly applying frosting to sugar cookies and adding some rainbow sprinkles made Harry torn between laughter and a slight urge to be ill. Lupin was still talking. "Of course, this year, they can make many more to give out to the patients at St. Mungo's, as we're all supposed to help decorate."
"They're all for St. Mungo's?" Noble as the idea sounded, Harry wanted cookies. The toast was just not satisfying him when their scent was wafting in from behind the closed door on the other side of the room.
"Most of them," he agreed. "But they're making millions, I'm sure you'll be sick of them by the time you go back to Hogwarts."
Ron was still looking like he had just hit himself with the slug curse again, so Harry grabbed his arm. "Let's go find Hermione."
That afternoon found them in the kitchen, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny around a smaller card table with Amy, Lupin, and Snape at the dining room table, the cookies on the end in the middle and bowls of frosting interspersed along the way.
"Remus, you're such a cheater," Amy complained.
Lupin stuck his tongue out at her as he picked up another cookie and spread it with apparently white frosting. As it emerged from under his knife, the tree was now green with any number of small decorations. "This will leave more time for other things."
"What other things?" Snape asked, carefully guiding some red onto a Santa hat. "You've nothing else going on right now."
"But I've plenty of other things I could be doing."
Amy rolled her eyes, picking up a centaur and debating over the color. "Such as?"
"This." Brushing the cookie away, he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.
"Oh, you!" But the swipe at his shoulder was playful. "Men!"
"Yes?" Snape and Lupin had spoken together, though both seemed amused at this.
Amy shook her head. "Hermione, you're the smart one; care to explain?"
"But you're the one with the Healer Award," Hermione returned with a grin, a smear of green frosting along her jaw line as she lay her cookie next to the guys'; hers were arguable the most artistic, but Harry and Ron didn't care. Cookies were for eating, anyway, not looking at, and they had already been sure to test them out.
"Healer Award, schmenaler award," Amy said dismissively. "What good does that do me?"
"Gives you the gold for a wedding dress," Lupin mused. "Except, if they don't hurry up, you'll just have to send it back."
Ginny laughed. "Uh-oh, Amy; he's threatening you."
"Oh, he's harmless," she said offhandedly. "I checked the calendar; I'm safe."
And she was, until someone - no names mentioned, but Harry was thoroughly surprised to see his Potions Professor stooping to such a level - lobbed a glob of extra frosting across the table. By the times Mrs. Weasley came in and started screeching at the three adults to clean it up, her kitchen was covered in rainbow splotches and the four teenagers slipped out, snickering behind their hands.
* * * * *
Harry awoke suddenly and completely, for a moment not knowing where he was as, in the pre-dawn gray light, members of the Chudley Cannons executed Quidditch moves around him. Lying still, he tried to remember what was making his heart pound like this.
All of a sudden the dream came back to him: not the irrelevant beginning, but starting with the fall, a fall that had been haunting him for a while now. Each and every time, after he tripped and failed to hit the ground, he would pick himself up, brush himself off, and start to take a look around before being pulled from sleep by one thing or another. It was a shadowy place, with an eerie fog curling around his ankles, obscuring the floor that really didn't seem to be there.
It didn't seem to be there because it was clear so the roots of the trees were visible.
Knowing he would not get back to sleep, Harry quietly gathered his cloths from the pile on the floor and slipped out of the room, changing in the bathroom before going downstairs, mind not really on where he was going. It was because of this that he ran into someone.
Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry with every level of disgust imaginable, the almost-cheerful demeanor he had displayed during cookie decorating completely gone. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked coldly.
"I could ask you the same thing, sir," Harry said rather sourly, resisting the urge to brush himself off.
His response was cut off by some one coming down the stairs. "Sorry, I know I'm late, don't look at me like that," Amy said, in the process of sweeping her hair back into a ponytail. For the first time Harry realized Snape was dressed in a jogging suit. All black, but a jogging suit nonetheless. Amy was in a similar one. "Oh, hey, Harry."
"What are you doing?" Harry asked. Snape had asked it in a slightly haughty tone; Harry's was more incredulous.
"Training for the Boston Marathon," she replied cheerfully, steering them away from the stairs and into the kitchen so as not to disturb anyone else. "Why, want to come?"
"Uh . . . not really," he admitted, at the same time thinking, Snape, running?
"We should get going," Snape said, looking pointedly at his watch. "Someone has a tendency to lag behind."
"You know, you really should stop talking about yourself in third person," Amy returned, tucking some stray strands of hair back into her headband as Snape pulled on some thing gloves. "See you in - what, forty-five minutes?"
"An hour," Snape corrected, obviously continuing the back-and-forth about who lagged behind as Amy playfully shoved him and took off out of the kitchen, leaving Snape to follow her out the door. Moving to the window Harry watched as she jogged backward, waiting for him to catch up and then the two of them took off into the sunrise and he couldn't see anymore.
* * * * *
Harry had all intention of bringing up his dream after Amy was back and showered, but by then the rest of the house was waking up and people were drifting downstairs to the smell of pancakes and the clanging of pots and pans. Although nothing really drove the dream all the way from Harry's mind, there was enough going on to make it seem less important.
As they were finishing up - and as Professor Lupin was wiping whipped cream from the table where he and Amy had been dueling with the canisters - a large package, supported by three owls, bumped into the kitchen window. "It's here!" Ginny squealed, leaping to undo the latch and let the flying monstrosity inside.
"Don't open it now, love," Mrs. Weasley said as Amy took it, giving Lupin a glance.
"What is it?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.
Hermione sighed. "Her wedding dress, you nitwit. What else?"
Before any comments could be made on her people skills, Lupin stopped Amy from leaving. "Tomorrow."
She laughed, catching a corner of the brown-paper-wrapped cloth as it threatened to slip from her grasp. "Remus Javed Lupin!"
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
She rolled her eyes. "Because you can't just throw a wedding together."
"What's there to throw?" There was a challenge to his eyes. "You've your dress, I'll pop on over to Gladrags and get some dress robes, and we're all set."
Amy fixed him with a Look.
Lupin shrugged. "Dumbledore's free."
With a glance into the middle of the room, she said quietly, "And what about . . . ?"
"Just confess it, Remus," Snape said, voice not as cold as Harry would have imagined it.
Lupin looked chagrinned. "Umm, I kind of told them that it was going to be tomorrow, anyway. I mean, even if your dress wasn't here," he hastily added.
Amy blinked. "You told them our wedding was December 21."
"Yes . . ."
"Just for the record, that's what we were told, too," Charlie added, grinning.
Amy shook her head. "You have an overdeveloped sense of confidence, did you know?"
Lupin smiled, giving her a kiss. "No. And I don't think I do."
Well, that was just one more reason to put off telling her about the dream, Harry thought as Hermione and Ginny followed Amy upstairs.
Snape turned to Lupin. "Shall we get our robes, then?"
Amy's head popped into view. "You" - she pointed to Snape - "black. You" - to Lupin - "ummm . . . not black. Something . . . I don't know. Make sure the saleswitch says it looks good."
Throwing a salute, the man in question Disapparated with a small pop as his bride-to-be again went upstairs.
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Well, I suppose you boys should make sure your dress robes still fit," she said cheerily. "You'll want to look your best for the pictures."
"Sure we will," Harry muttered to Ron as they went upstairs. "Who's going to be looking at us, anyway?"
Ron's ears turned pink, though he made no reply.
The last bed at the far end on the right was the center of attention. Dumbledore stood quietly at its foot as Amy bent over its occupant. Though she looked concerned, the healer seemed convinced that no permanent harm would come to the patient. Snape was in the way of Harry seeing who it was.
Nodding once, Amy straightened and went to a large cupboard nearby, selecting a few bottles and some bandages. "Severus, you need to rest," she said briskly, depositing them on the bedside table and straightening them out.
Snape shook his head weakly. "No time for that now, Amy, I -"
But she had a steely glint in her eye as she came around to his side of the bed. "Are you the healer here or am I?"
"Amy -"
"It certainly won't kill you to sit," she snapped, uncharacteristically brisk as she took his shoulders and - well, she didn't force him; it was more like controlling his fall into the chair behind him. Leaning across the bed, Amy snagged a bottle and a cup, pouring out some steaming potion and thrusting into his hands. "Drink that. Then talk." Leaving him there, she returned to the other side of the bed and Harry caught sight of the head on the pillow - Lupin. An icicle slid near his heart as he saw his former professor's pale face and the cold sweat on his brow.
Moody, whose eye had been turned all the way around in his socket, suddenly moved to open the door again, and Charlie Weasley fairly flew in, skidding to a stop and looking around wildly. "Where is she?" he asked in a voice almost as hoarse as Lupin's.
Amy took a deep breath, though her eyes were on her hands, steady as she mixed another potion. "Captured."
"Lured away," Snape corrected, slumped back in the chair and - for once in his life - looking unintimidating. "They had her mother." His voice was dull and lifeless, something like that of the young Barty Crouch after he had partaken of a truth potion.
Amy looked up sharply. "They had Anna."
He nodded once. "That letter was real, written in her hand while she was under the Imperius Curse. They were right; it made Tonks more willing to take risks, to try and save her."
Vaguely Harry remembered the letter Tonks had received, saying her mother had joined Bellatrix Lestrange as a Death Eater. Still, he stayed silent, trying his best to blend in with the shadows.
"All is not lost, Charlie," Dumbledore said gently, folding his hands into his sleeves.
"Then where -?"
Silently Dumbledore pointed a long finger to a cage on a table in the back. Charlie blinked, hesitating a moment before going for a closer look. "And he -?"
"Wormtail most unfortunately had his facts wrong," Snape said dryly. "It's silver bullets, not silver in any form."
Harry blinked. Silver hand . . . a werewolf lying still . . . "Amy?" he asked hesitantly, stepping forward.
She lifted her head, quickly covering the wounds on Lupin's chest with the sheet. "He'll be fine," she said quietly.
"Given a fortnight, with rest," Snape corrected, attempting a laugh of sorts.
"Yes, and it'll take you just as long if you don't finish that potion and allow yourself the rest you need," Amy snapped back at him. "Potions masters and healers make the worst patients," she muttered, dipping a cloth in cool water and wiping Lupin's forehead.
Harry took a deep breath. "Is he - Wormtail, I mean - stuck as a rat, then?"
Moody clunked up behind him. "You see, Potter," he said, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders and steering him forcibly to the cage, "there's a spell to make him human again, but no spell to keep him as a rat. And by that I mean 'in rat form,' of course," the Auror said, uttering a dry laugh. "So we simply made the cage Unbreakable."
Blinking in the dim light, Harry leant forward to take a closer look at the rat. Its entire right from paw was missing. "Then you took away the silver one?"
Snape snorted, downing the last of his potion and leaving the goblet on a table nearby. "Damn tricky thing to do. The Dark Lord's handiwork isn't easily undone." Unconsciously the fingers of the professor's right hand strayed to his left forearm and the Mark that was hidden by his sleeve.
Charlie seemed to start out of a reverie. "And did he tell you anything?" he demanded, sweeping his hair off his face with one hand and gesturing savagely to the rat with his other. "Did he give you any information about the - the you-know-what?" His stutter had been accompanied by a quick glance at Harry, the only person in the room who was not a member of the Order.
"There will be time for that later," Dumbledore said softly, blue eyes resting lightly on the second eldest Weasley. "We know we only have a small window in which to ferret out information on the whereabouts and well-being of Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks, while we can be certain that Wormtail will be safe in my office under the watchful eye of Fawkes."
At the mention of Tonks, Charlie stiffened again. "How did they get her?" he asked tightly, eyes burning as he turned them on Snape. "What happened?"
"We suspect the Imperius Curse again," the professor said calmly, though this was only a mask for the exhaustion he felt. Harry was surprised Snape was even answering. "She was tricked into thinking her mother was willing to come but, at the last moment, Anna seized her daughter and proceeded to drag her away. I was already giving all my energy to saving Remus; I regret that I had none left for her." Indeed, Snape almost looked regretful, although emotions usually did not find their way onto his face unless they were disgust, smugness, gloating, or utter loathing, all of which Harry had experienced for himself.
Dumbledore broke the moment of silence before it could stretch too long. "Shall I cancel this morning's Potion lesson?" he asked, as though that had been the topic all along.
Amy glanced up. "Mad-Eye, how good are you with advanced poisons?" she asked wearily.
His blue eye swiveled. "That the lesson plan on your desk?"
She nodded. "I'd be grateful."
"Yes, they are already behind one lesson," Snape said, though his eyes lacked their usual piercing quality as he glanced pointedly at Amy.
"No, we aren't, sir," Harry corrected. "We had a make-up day."
Amy gave him a small smile, ignoring the look of - shock? Or was it pleasure? - on the professor's face.
Moody emerged from Amy's office, roll of parchment under his arm. "Come on, Potter," he said, this time giving Harry a prod between the shoulder blade. "Potions calls."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, causing him to turn. "I trust you keep your Secrets safe."
A glance at Amy told Harry how Dumbledore might have found out. "Yeah, I - I think so."
The headmaster nodded. "Good. Run along; advanced poisons are not to be missed, especially if one desires to become an Auror."
Managing a smile at that, Harry followed Moody out the door. The Auror made sure to lock it securely behind them
* * * * *
Snow fell in the last week before holidays, making the trek to the greenhouses and Hagrid's hut rather difficult. Hermione even relented and spent an evening teaching Harry and Ron the wand motion to make hot air blow out of the end so paths could be melted and robes dried.
The Saturday before the last week of school, Amy invited them to the hospital wing for afternoon tea. Ginny, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were pleased to see Professor Lupin sitting up, and he even gave them a weak smile. "Wish I could join you," he said, eyeing the small table with envy, "but . . ." He indicated the steaming goblet, full of Wolfsbane Potion, and made a face.
"At least it's not happening on Christmas this year," Amy said, emerging from her office with a tray of cookies and small cakes, bending to kiss his forehead before she set it down.
He laughed hoarsely. "Talk about ripping the wrapping paper off presents . . ."
Harry and Ron grinned at each other - he sounded much like his old self - and helped themselves to cookies, still warm, as Amy fetched a carpet bag from the corner, perching on the foot of Remus's bed and dumping the contents out on the white sheets. The boys tried not to groan as the girls looked eagerly through the selection of fake flowers.
"Darker ones, we've decided," Amy said, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Because it's a winter wedding."
"Even if that dress doesn't come in," Lupin added sternly. "She's intent on waiting for it," he explained to the others.
"With as much as that thing costs - and where would I wear it otherwise?" she demanded, plucking out a deep red rose and twirling it in her fingers.
"To a Yule Ball, maybe," Hermione mused. She had picked out the lilies and baby's breath and set them aside.
Ron blinked. "Wait - you're getting married at my house?"
Lupin sighed. "The Bahamas are too far away. . . ."
He frowned and began ticking off on his fingers. "Mum and Dad, Ginny, me, the twins and Charlie and Bill are home for the holidays, you, you" - he nodded to Lupin and Amy - "Harry . . ."
Lupin rolled his eyes. "You forgot Severus."
Harry chocked on a cookie. "Snape's coming?"
"Amy and I are engaged, remember?" The professor's oily voice came from behind them.
"Sev! Draw up a chair. Budge over, would you?" Amy asked Harry, and he obligingly scooted closer to Ron.
"I only came to show you this," the professor cut in smoothly, and Harry could not help but feel more than a bit relieved. He handed her a letter, already opened.
Quickly glancing at the address - it read "Professor S. Snape, Hogwarts" - Amy tore it open, eyes skimming the contents and growing wide as they did. "Oh, Severus, I'm sorry," she said, passing it to Lupin, who read it quickly.
Snape shrugged, taking it back and stowing it in a pocket of his robes. "They weren't much use to me alive," he said, voice carefully neutral as he turned and left the room. After only a moment of hesitation Amy took off after him.
The students turned to Professor Lupin. He sighed, running his hand through his hair and collapsing back against the pillow. "One thing you probably don't know about Severus Snape," he said heavily, "is that his parents were never accused of being Dark minded."
Harry blinked. "What? But I thought Snape -"
Lupin held up a hand. "He was. But his parents, although . . . well . . . rather awful, were actually enemies of Voldemort."
"What does that have to do with this?" Ron asked, clearly confused.
He sighed. "They were found dead in their home early this morning. Although the Ministry is keeping it quiet, they expect it was the work of the Death Eaters."
Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance, and the four of them quickly finished their tea before excusing themselves quietly.
Ron snorted as they moved out into the hallway, making sure no one else was around. "His parents weren't dark, my foot!"
"Well, look at Sirius," Hermione reasoned. "You know what the rest of his family was like, and he wasn't Dark."
"But that's different," Ron argued.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked away.
Later that evening, Harry decided to get his dad's Invisibility Cloak out again and make a trip down to see Amy. Ron had been in a bad mood for the rest of the afternoon - Hermione was ignoring him - so Harry decided not to tell either of them where he was going, much less invite them along.
The halls were deserted. Pulling the Marauder's Map from his pocket, Harry made sure Mrs. Norris was on the second floor, Filch was in the trophy room, and Snape was - he blinked. Snape was in the hospital wing, the little dot with his name pacing. Amy was there, too, though the dot labeled "Remus Lupin" had been moved back into his private room. Sighing, Harry was about to give up. Then he noticed a third dot in the Hospital Wing.
Moving both silently and quickly under the cloak was something Harry should have mastered by then, and he did manage to get to the room in time to see Lucius Malfoy emerging from - a spider, maybe? Harry had seen Sirius change from dog to man enough to know that the elder Malfoy, too, was an unregistered Animagus. He barely managed to slip inside before the Death Eater shut the door firmly, locking it with a spell only a wizard could break. Snape had stopped pacing and crossed to Amy, putting a protective arm around her. Amy looked like she had been crying.
"I don't know why I keep coming back here." Mr. Malfoy was taking off the thin black gloves he wore. "I just needed to know it was true."
"When our Master demands something of us, we cannot refuse him, Lucius," Snape said, voice silky as ever.
Mr. Malfoy took a deep breath. Harry was amazed to see some trace of emotion on his face, as if one word would send him into hysterics. "Well," he said slowly, eyes on his gloves as he folded them meticulously, "at least it's one of our own and not some - some Mudblood, or some Muggle- lover."
Amy's lip trembled and it was obvious she was avoiding looking at Snape. "Lucius, I'm sorry," she said, voice breaking. "But you - there would be no question anymore about where my loyalties lie, and the Dark Lord knows this. At least Severus has managed to convince them he turned spy at You- Know-Who's downfall."
Harry's mind was spinning. Snape, a Death Eater still? But Voldemort had said . . . three of them at Hogwarts: one loyal, one coward, and one who had left him forever. Moody/Barty Crouch had been the loyal follower, Harry was sure, and Karkarof had fled and failed to resurface, meaning he was the second. He might even be dead; Harry couldn't think of anyone who would miss him. That meant Snape had left him forever . . . right? Obviously, as Hermione had told them so often, the Potions professor could not have Disapparated within Hogwarts grounds.
Lucius was speaking again. "I would have made you happy." He said it as though Snape were not there, and the Potions professor fixed him with a steely glare.
"Sometimes we have no control over where we have to find happiness." Amy's voice was soft, though the gaze she had fixed on him was almost - Harry blinked - loving. It was the way she looked at Professor Lupin, except . . . well . . . it couldn't be. Right?
Mr. Malfoy nodded once. "Very well." He turned to leave.
"Lucius!" The word was torn from Amy's throat. As he turned, she shrugged off Snape's arm and ran to him. Harry took a step back in surprise, almost trodding on his robe and falling. Amy ran into Mr. Malfoy's arms, letting tears fall as she kissed him passionately. It was like a horrible car wreck, so awful Harry could not look away. Out of the corner of his eye he sensed that Snape had fixed his glare on the wall three meters to their left so he would not have to look at them.
The kiss lasted a lifetime, Harry was sure, but Mr. Malfoy finally pulled back, gently unhooking her arms from behind his neck. Then, wordlessly, he unlocked the door and opened it a crack. A moment later a tarantula the size of Harry's hand scuttled out into the hallway.
All business, Snape strode across the room and shut the door. "I told you that you didn't have to do that," he said almost sternly.
"It was more believable that way," Amy protested, drying her eyes almost angrily on her sleeve. "I bought some wonderful mouthwash just for the occasion and plan to drink the entire bottle straight away."
He frowned, crossing his arms. "He thinks you love him."
"Delusions of grandeur, that." She was making faces as though trying to get a film off her tongue. "Can't even French kiss properly."
"And I suppose Remus could give him a few lessons?" Snape asked with a dry smile.
The grin on Amy's face quickly changed to a look of disgust. "Ew! Sev!" she admonished, cuffing him on the shoulder. "Don't even . . . I . . . That's just wrong!" she finished, shuddering for effect. "The only one Remus is going to be kissing is me, and I hope to God I never have to do anything like that again!" She gestured savagely to the door, still closed, or else Harry would have tried to slip out.
"I -" Snape paled slightly, suddenly grabbing his left forearm.
Amy understood. "Go on, you've no excuse tonight."
"Sure, and maybe Lucius and I could carpool," he said wryly, opening the door. Harry slipped out before him and Snape hurried off down the hall, probably to Hogsmeade, Harry thought, so he could Apparate by Voldemort's side for whatever reason the Death Eaters had been summoned.
Harry Amy one last look - she didn't linger, merely pushing the door shut - before heading off to bed, dearly wishing Ron and Hermione might have stayed up talking so he could get this off his chest immediately and not have to wait for morning.
* * * * *
In the morning, Ron and Hermione were stiff and cordial, not even looking at each other but talking normally to Harry, who couldn't understand what had caused such a thing in the first place. It wasn't until Charms that Harry was able to explain what was going on.
"I don't see what the big deal is, Harry," Ron said, angrily jabbing his wand at the white rat he was supposed to be turning colors. His annoyance was more of the fact that Hermione had put hers through a rainbow before he had even managed to turn his yellow - and that the spell was nothing like what the twins had slipped him years ago.
Even Hermione wasn't overly concerned. "So he's still a spy. It's not all that terrible, Harry, and it probably helps both him and Amy. She got rid of Mr. Malfoy, didn't she?"
Harry shook his head, ticking off on his fingers. "One too cowardly to return, one who left Voldemort forever, and one who was his most faithful servant."
They still looked blank.
"The night of the third Task!" Harry hissed quietly. "There were three Death Eaters at Hogwarts: the coward, the traitor, and the servant."
Ron blinked. "And we always thought the coward was Karkaroff, the traitor was Snape, and the servant was that old -
"Ron!"
"- pretending to be Moody," he finished. "Honestly, Hermione, didn't think you held with that kind of criminality."
"Oh, it's Polyjuice Potion," she said loftily. "I happen to have a - erm - soft spot for that."
After waiting for Flitwick to pass - and turning his rat a horrid shade that Hermione deemed "puce" - Harry got back down to business. "But they don't think Snape's a traitor."
"Hang on." Ron sat up, scratching his chin with the tip of his wand and leaving a blue smear that neither Harry nor Hermione was inclined to point out. "You said he passed a few of them, didn't you?"
"Yes . . ."
"But that still only leaves us with two out of three," Hermione pointed out. "And we still are assuming Voldemort meant Crouch was his faithful servant."
"He was going to kill me, remember?" Harry pointed out bitterly. "And Snape wasn't going to do anything."
"But Voldemort still thinks him faithful," Hermione pondered, ignoring Ron's shudders every time that name was mentioned.
Harry shrugged, poking at his rat and turning it more of an aqua than the green he was trying for. "Then it's only fair to assume there was another Death Eater at the Third Task."
Hermione frowned, carefully striping the fur of her rat into a rainbow. "How many empty spaces were there in the circle?" she asked at last.
Giving her a "What, you think I remember it exactly?" look, Harry found he could picture it very well. "Ummm . . . those three, the Lestranges, and probably five or six other spaces. Or ten or twelve skinny people . . ." He attempted a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood and stop the memory from progressing any further.
Hermione shook her head. "Another Death Eater," she muttered to herself.
Harry sat straight up. "Bagman."
Ron snorted. "That lout's not smart enough to be a Death Eater."
"He was accused." Harry's mind was working overtime. "And he fled right after the Third Task."
"Because of the goblins," Ron argued, but Hermione was looking like she had just been given her N.E.W.T.s and knew every answer perfectly.
"That's right," she said softly. "He left before speaking with anyone. Besides, he was also trying to get Harry through the tasks . . ."
"That makes more of a 'loyal servant,' doesn't it?" Ron was still sticking to his guns.
Hermione shrugged. "Then Karkaroff left him forever and Bagman was the coward."
"Because he fled when I came back alive," Harry marveled. "Or - well, maybe Voldemort knew he was going to run."
Hermione shrugged. "And why are you taking Occlumency lessons?"
"Ah . . . good point." He smiled sheepishly.
Ron looked thoroughly deflated. "Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater?" he tried one last time.
"He hasn't been seen much since then," Hermione pointed out.
Ron looked like he wanted to cry. "But he was the best Beater -"
She gave him a Look.
Ron sighed. "Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater," he agreed dejectedly.
Harry nodded once. Though the information was not very encouraging, it was nice not to have a loose end hanging around.
* * * * *
When the list was passed around for people to sign if they were staying at Hogwarts, Harry smiled and let it pass him by. Amy was in a bit of a tizzy as holidays approached, especially with increasing popularity of Skiving Snackboxes among forth years wishing to get out of possibly being poisoned by Snape and fifth- and seventh years wanting to get out of . . . well . . . anything.
When the morning came and all trunks, animals, and students were loaded onto the Hogwarts Express to go home for the holidays, Ron looked a little concerned. "We're never going to all fit at home," he muttered, casting a glance back to the castle. Harry knew he was thinking about the three people still to come: Amy, Professor Lupin, and Snape.
They were met at the station by what Mr. Weasley assured them was a completely Muggle car - except for the expanding boot and back seat, of course. Mrs. Weasley looked a little too relieved to see them, but Harry didn't want to risk getting the evil eye from Hermione by asking why. She and Ron had apparently decided to drop all past spats and were acting like their old selves.
Moving into the Burrow was a bit of a trick with all the Wealseys save Percy home for the holidays. The twins, Ron, and Harry were in Ron's room; Charlie, Bill, and Professor Lupin were in the twins'; Hermione, Ginny, and Amy were in Ginny's room; and Snape was in Percy's. Each of the bedrooms was utterly crowded with extra mattresses and heavy down quilts and everyone knew that they would not be spending much time there, anyway.
On the second morning, Harry awoke late to the smell of something baking downstairs. Rousing Ron, the two went to investigate, pausing in shock as they caught sight of the kitchen. Where both had expected to find Mrs. Weasley, they were met with a most unlikely duo: Amy - and Snape.
Amy looked slightly exasperated as Snape was placing even dollops of cookie dough on a sheet in preparation for the oven. "Sev, look: even a starving man couldn't eat that much in one sitting," she protested.
"Then he can share one with his closest friends instead of swallowing them in one bite," the professor said in a clipped tone, glancing almost scornfully at a tray set out to cool. For once Harry had to agree: the cookies, though reasonable, looked rather small.
"Come on," Ron hissed, plucking at Harry's sleeve and steering him into the living room where Professor Lupin was sitting with a cup of coffee and the Daily Prophet.
He looked up. "Did you know," he said conversationally, "that it is highly dangerous to allow either a Healer or a Potions Professor into the kitchen?"
Harry blinked, plopping down in an armchair and taking a slice of toast from a plate on the end table. "What?"
The professor nodded. "You see, both professions involved exact measuring and mixing and all that, so it's generally a disaster area."
"What's going on in there, then?" Ron demanded, sweeping an arm back to the kitchen.
"Ah." Lupin held up a finger. "But, if both are allowed in at the same time and only once a year, and everyone else knows enough to stay away, the cookies are delicious. Just don't pick favorites."
Harry and Ron shared a look. "You . . . know this from experience?"
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Plenty. And let me tell you - Severus's sugar cookies are nothing to laugh at, but it's the pumpkin flavored ones that almost rival any of Amy's."
Still trying to wrap his mind around Snape baking - and obviously having a hard time with it - Ron blinked. "Then they do this every Christmas?"
"Every single one for years," the former professor informed him, showing that it really wasn't something so amazing by picking up the paper again. "I, of course, have learned to stay out of the kitchen until it's time to decorate the cookies."
A sudden image of Snape in a pink flowered apron, lovingly applying frosting to sugar cookies and adding some rainbow sprinkles made Harry torn between laughter and a slight urge to be ill. Lupin was still talking. "Of course, this year, they can make many more to give out to the patients at St. Mungo's, as we're all supposed to help decorate."
"They're all for St. Mungo's?" Noble as the idea sounded, Harry wanted cookies. The toast was just not satisfying him when their scent was wafting in from behind the closed door on the other side of the room.
"Most of them," he agreed. "But they're making millions, I'm sure you'll be sick of them by the time you go back to Hogwarts."
Ron was still looking like he had just hit himself with the slug curse again, so Harry grabbed his arm. "Let's go find Hermione."
That afternoon found them in the kitchen, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny around a smaller card table with Amy, Lupin, and Snape at the dining room table, the cookies on the end in the middle and bowls of frosting interspersed along the way.
"Remus, you're such a cheater," Amy complained.
Lupin stuck his tongue out at her as he picked up another cookie and spread it with apparently white frosting. As it emerged from under his knife, the tree was now green with any number of small decorations. "This will leave more time for other things."
"What other things?" Snape asked, carefully guiding some red onto a Santa hat. "You've nothing else going on right now."
"But I've plenty of other things I could be doing."
Amy rolled her eyes, picking up a centaur and debating over the color. "Such as?"
"This." Brushing the cookie away, he slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.
"Oh, you!" But the swipe at his shoulder was playful. "Men!"
"Yes?" Snape and Lupin had spoken together, though both seemed amused at this.
Amy shook her head. "Hermione, you're the smart one; care to explain?"
"But you're the one with the Healer Award," Hermione returned with a grin, a smear of green frosting along her jaw line as she lay her cookie next to the guys'; hers were arguable the most artistic, but Harry and Ron didn't care. Cookies were for eating, anyway, not looking at, and they had already been sure to test them out.
"Healer Award, schmenaler award," Amy said dismissively. "What good does that do me?"
"Gives you the gold for a wedding dress," Lupin mused. "Except, if they don't hurry up, you'll just have to send it back."
Ginny laughed. "Uh-oh, Amy; he's threatening you."
"Oh, he's harmless," she said offhandedly. "I checked the calendar; I'm safe."
And she was, until someone - no names mentioned, but Harry was thoroughly surprised to see his Potions Professor stooping to such a level - lobbed a glob of extra frosting across the table. By the times Mrs. Weasley came in and started screeching at the three adults to clean it up, her kitchen was covered in rainbow splotches and the four teenagers slipped out, snickering behind their hands.
* * * * *
Harry awoke suddenly and completely, for a moment not knowing where he was as, in the pre-dawn gray light, members of the Chudley Cannons executed Quidditch moves around him. Lying still, he tried to remember what was making his heart pound like this.
All of a sudden the dream came back to him: not the irrelevant beginning, but starting with the fall, a fall that had been haunting him for a while now. Each and every time, after he tripped and failed to hit the ground, he would pick himself up, brush himself off, and start to take a look around before being pulled from sleep by one thing or another. It was a shadowy place, with an eerie fog curling around his ankles, obscuring the floor that really didn't seem to be there.
It didn't seem to be there because it was clear so the roots of the trees were visible.
Knowing he would not get back to sleep, Harry quietly gathered his cloths from the pile on the floor and slipped out of the room, changing in the bathroom before going downstairs, mind not really on where he was going. It was because of this that he ran into someone.
Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry with every level of disgust imaginable, the almost-cheerful demeanor he had displayed during cookie decorating completely gone. "What are you doing, Potter?" he asked coldly.
"I could ask you the same thing, sir," Harry said rather sourly, resisting the urge to brush himself off.
His response was cut off by some one coming down the stairs. "Sorry, I know I'm late, don't look at me like that," Amy said, in the process of sweeping her hair back into a ponytail. For the first time Harry realized Snape was dressed in a jogging suit. All black, but a jogging suit nonetheless. Amy was in a similar one. "Oh, hey, Harry."
"What are you doing?" Harry asked. Snape had asked it in a slightly haughty tone; Harry's was more incredulous.
"Training for the Boston Marathon," she replied cheerfully, steering them away from the stairs and into the kitchen so as not to disturb anyone else. "Why, want to come?"
"Uh . . . not really," he admitted, at the same time thinking, Snape, running?
"We should get going," Snape said, looking pointedly at his watch. "Someone has a tendency to lag behind."
"You know, you really should stop talking about yourself in third person," Amy returned, tucking some stray strands of hair back into her headband as Snape pulled on some thing gloves. "See you in - what, forty-five minutes?"
"An hour," Snape corrected, obviously continuing the back-and-forth about who lagged behind as Amy playfully shoved him and took off out of the kitchen, leaving Snape to follow her out the door. Moving to the window Harry watched as she jogged backward, waiting for him to catch up and then the two of them took off into the sunrise and he couldn't see anymore.
* * * * *
Harry had all intention of bringing up his dream after Amy was back and showered, but by then the rest of the house was waking up and people were drifting downstairs to the smell of pancakes and the clanging of pots and pans. Although nothing really drove the dream all the way from Harry's mind, there was enough going on to make it seem less important.
As they were finishing up - and as Professor Lupin was wiping whipped cream from the table where he and Amy had been dueling with the canisters - a large package, supported by three owls, bumped into the kitchen window. "It's here!" Ginny squealed, leaping to undo the latch and let the flying monstrosity inside.
"Don't open it now, love," Mrs. Weasley said as Amy took it, giving Lupin a glance.
"What is it?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.
Hermione sighed. "Her wedding dress, you nitwit. What else?"
Before any comments could be made on her people skills, Lupin stopped Amy from leaving. "Tomorrow."
She laughed, catching a corner of the brown-paper-wrapped cloth as it threatened to slip from her grasp. "Remus Javed Lupin!"
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
She rolled her eyes. "Because you can't just throw a wedding together."
"What's there to throw?" There was a challenge to his eyes. "You've your dress, I'll pop on over to Gladrags and get some dress robes, and we're all set."
Amy fixed him with a Look.
Lupin shrugged. "Dumbledore's free."
With a glance into the middle of the room, she said quietly, "And what about . . . ?"
"Just confess it, Remus," Snape said, voice not as cold as Harry would have imagined it.
Lupin looked chagrinned. "Umm, I kind of told them that it was going to be tomorrow, anyway. I mean, even if your dress wasn't here," he hastily added.
Amy blinked. "You told them our wedding was December 21."
"Yes . . ."
"Just for the record, that's what we were told, too," Charlie added, grinning.
Amy shook her head. "You have an overdeveloped sense of confidence, did you know?"
Lupin smiled, giving her a kiss. "No. And I don't think I do."
Well, that was just one more reason to put off telling her about the dream, Harry thought as Hermione and Ginny followed Amy upstairs.
Snape turned to Lupin. "Shall we get our robes, then?"
Amy's head popped into view. "You" - she pointed to Snape - "black. You" - to Lupin - "ummm . . . not black. Something . . . I don't know. Make sure the saleswitch says it looks good."
Throwing a salute, the man in question Disapparated with a small pop as his bride-to-be again went upstairs.
Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Well, I suppose you boys should make sure your dress robes still fit," she said cheerily. "You'll want to look your best for the pictures."
"Sure we will," Harry muttered to Ron as they went upstairs. "Who's going to be looking at us, anyway?"
Ron's ears turned pink, though he made no reply.