Dumbledore looked up, using a long index finger to push his half-moon glasses up on his crooked nose.  "Ah, yes; Amy."

"I think I know why you wanted to see me," she said, rather stiffly.

He put the tips of his fingers together, elbows on his desk.  "Severus should know."

She had to look away, though she still felt the blue eyes probing her.  "I told him the main points, all right?"

"But not the most important."

"Yes, because of course I want to go broadcasting that!"  Frustrated, she crossed her arms and started pacing slowly, scuffing her shoes on the carpet.  "Sev already worries too much about me; please, understand that."

"Yes, Severus worries.  And so does someone else, someone who doesn't know even the smallest bit of that part of your past."

Amy snorted.  "What, you want me to walk up to him and say, 'Hi, Remus.  Look, there's something I should tell you: Voldemort's my godfather'?  Yes, that's such a happy thought, sprinkle him with fairy dust and he'll fly straight to Never-Never Land!"

The headmaster ignored the Muggle children's book reference.  "I was going to suggest something with more tact, but that works."

She blinked.  "No.  Oh, no.  Tell me he's not upstairs with the door wide open listening to every word I say."

The clearing of a throat made her look up to the landing.  "The door was only cracked partly."

Muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a harsh four-letter word, Amy buried her head in her hands as she leaned heavily against the wall.

Dumbledore spread his hands.  "Sometimes we must be forced to speak."

"Amy?"  Professor Lupin came down the stairs onto the mail floor of the headmaster's office, gently taking her shoulders.  "Ames, darling."

A weak laugh came through her fingers.  "And you thought my family couldn't get any worse."

* * * * *

Amy shrugged.  "Why did you think I protested so strongly against Harry ever finding out from anyone who his godfather was when everyone else still thought it had been Sirius who killed his parents?  At the time I only knew what it felt like to have him – but now –"

"You don't know that, Ames," Remus said softly, gathering her closer to him and rocking her gently.  "You don't that."

She pulled back.  "I lied to you, Remus."

He took a slow breath.  "About what?"

"My parents.  My adoptive ones; he didn't know the real ones.  They weren't killed experimenting.  He killed them."

"My god."

"And I've known since it happened."  The look on her face was one of inner pain trying to be outshone by a wry smile.  "I've known since that day and this is the first time I've ever said it.  My godfather –Voldemort – killed my parents, the only ones I had ever known.  And that's the position everyone thought Harry was in."

Remus blinked, trying to absorb this.  "This is why you had to learn to get rid of Secret Finders."

She nodded once.  "He taught me how."

He looked like he was having a hard time breathing.  "How did you escape?"

"Escape?"

Reaching for her arm, he pulled back her sleeve.  "No Mark."

"I'm his goddaughter; that's mark enough, don't you think?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat; they had almost forgotten he was there.  "Then as a child he gave you gifts."  It was not a question.

"As a child he treated me like a daughter, until he went into hiding."  The tendons in her neck were standing out as she spoke through a clenched jaw.  "Yes, he gave me gifts."

"Did he tell you about the Chamber of Secrets?"  Dumbledore's voice was light.

She took a deep breath.  "I can speak Parseltongue, Professor.  I know the Chamber exists somewhere inside these walls, and I know that he is the descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself.  But I could no more have found the Chamber than Gilderoy Lockhart himself."

Professor Lupin turned.  "You think she'd just allow something like that to happen?"

Dumbledore was silent a moment.  "You have kept secrets even from me, Mrs. Lupin.  What others are you keeping?"

For a moment Amy held his gaze.  "You're the one who asked Severus to teach me Occlumency, Professor."

"And have you ever used it against me?"  His voice was soft.

She paused.  "Twice."

The blue eyes did not blink.  "Twice?"

"Yes.  Both times to keep you from knowing about the gifts."  Her jaw started trembling.  "Dammit, Dumbledore!  Don't you think I blame myself?  If I had found him then, sought him out, he would have trusted me enough to tell me how to get in, how to find it.  If I had been thinking, if I hadn't been a coward – don't you think I've tortured myself with that enough in my life?  But he said nothing to me about the Sorcerer's Stone, or coming back . . . I didn't find out until Sev told me; how do you think that made me feel?

She gave him no chance to answer.  "Scared.  Scared out of my wits that somehow, this time, I'd messed up.  Somehow he knew, and all those chances I missed would be nothing compared to all the ones I'd miss in the future after he was through with me.  Yes, Voldemort's my godfather.  Yes, I'm a Parselmouth.  And if you were anyone else, anyone at all, I wouldn't even bother trying to justify myself to you.  If you don't believe me, then nothing I do can convince you."  She shrugged.  "I'm not tied to this job, Albus; just to Harry.  A single word from you can send me packing."

Dumbledore rose.  "I'm going to ask something of you I've not asked from anyone before.  You are allowed to refuse."

Amy took a deep breath.  "I know."

Her husband looked back and forth between the two.  "What's going on?  Amy?"

"I am asking to probe her mind fully, and without resistance.  Certain memories, of course, have no need to be examined and will thus be left alone.  Others . . . a quick glance will assure me.  She just cannot resist."  Dumbledore kept his eyes on Amy.

She nodded once.  "I won't."

The headmaster was suddenly all business.  "Amy, sit here," he said, motioning to a chair across from his own.  "Remus, it's best if you didn't stay."

"But –"

"Remus."  Amy's voice made him stop.  "You know what it's like, having to wake from a nightmare."

"Yes . . ."

"This time . . . here, you can't wake me."  She shrugged slightly.  "I don't want you to see that."

He hesitated.  "You're sure it's safe."

"As long as she does not resist, it's nothing more than a Chocolate Frog can handle," the elderly man assured him.

Nodding once, Remus turned and left the room, shutting the door quickly behind him.

Dumbledore took a seat.  "Now; let's begin."

* * * * *

Amy didn't look up when Snape walked in a set a stack of essays on her desk. "Thanks."

He paused.  "Was that a you-can-go-now thanks, or a do-you-have-a-minute thanks?"

She sighed, setting down the stack of papers she had been going through and looking up.  "You know, Severus.  Remus already told you."

The potions master winced slightly.  "He, ah, told you he told me?"

"No, and I wasn't entirely sure he had, but you just did."  The papers rose again.

"Amy."  He leaned across the desk to pull them down so he could see her face.  "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It's not something people generally like to hear."  She lifted his fingers from the papers and brought them up again.

"No, it's not.  But that's no excuse."  When she avoided his grab for them again he pounded a fist on the desk.  "Dammit, Amy!  How can I help you if you won't let me?"

"Maybe I don't need help," she snapped back.  "Maybe I'd somehow managed to put this all behind me until you all managed to drag it up again and shove it in my face."

"For some reason I doubt it."

The tears were on her cheeks before he could get around the desk and take her in his arms.  "Shh, Amy . . . I'm sorry . . . this is all my fault . . ."

"You – you couldn't've known," she said, voice muffled by his shoulder.  "I had – had to make sure of that."

Gently he took her shoulders and pushed her back slightly, bringing up a hand to wipe off her cheeks.  "I know.  He probably told you not to tell me."

"Well, he said – not if I could help it."  Suddenly looking extremely tired, she leaned forward and rested her head on his chest.  "I was hoping he'd wake up before today."

Snape took a deep breath, allowing the change of subject.  "I'm sure Miss Granger will leap at the chance to tutor him."

"Tutor him?"  Amy pulled back and kept going, flopping into her chair.  "How much can Harry afford to miss?"

"I'm sure his aunt and uncle wouldn't mind a summer term," Snape said dryly, moving the essays so he could sit on her desk.  "Two weeks with them, then back here . . . between you and Remus, you'd be able to cover most of it."

Her eyebrow rose.  "Then I take it you're not volunteering."

"Eh . . ."

She hit him playfully on the knee.

"Ow!  Adele Yvonne –"

"You deserved it!" she said, shouting over the rest of her name.  "You know you did!"

Remus poked his head into the room.  "Excuse me, but quiet hours started fifteen minutes ago.  I'll have to report you to your head of house."

Amy subtly reached for her wand.  "For one thing, Remus, Sev [i]is[/i] Head of House.  And for another, I didn't even go here."

He barely had time to duck as a quill pen transfigured itself into a pillow and launched itself at him.

"Why, you –" The pillow became a bouncy ball and started ricocheting around the room.

"Ten points from Gryffindor!" Snape bellowed, covering his head with his arms as Amy dove under her desk.

"Ten points?"  Remus smiled, ignoring the ball as it whizzed right past his left ear.  "That's nothing, we used to rack up a lot more than [i]that[/i] in one go."

"Tell him he can have the couch in their Common Room if that thing doesn't stop right now!"  Amy's voice echoed slightly.

"Amy says –"

"I heard her!"  Through a pout the ball dropped suddenly, turning back into a quill pen along the way.

Snape reached down to help Amy up.  "Where were you when the Marauders were running rampant?"

"Getting my nose broken and freezing my toes off," she answered promptly.  "Charming place, Durmstrang . . ."

"Which explains why you stayed there for work, as well." Snape nodded as though it all made perfect sense.

Amy blinked.  "You main you don't know why?"

Snape and Lupin shared a look.  "I'm afraid our combined brain power isn't enough," the latter quipped.

"Hmm."  She looked thoughtful.  "All right, to start with: [i]Hogwarts, a History[/i]."  She held her hands about eight inches apart.  "[i]The Distinguished History of Durmstrang Academy.[/i]"  Switching to her fingers, she held them perhaps an inch and a half apart.  "Any questions?"

Remus raised his hand.  "Do you need a magnifying glass to read that one?"

Amy rolled her eyes.  "The history of Durmstrang only covers about the last fifty years."  When they still looked blank, she laughed.  "Oh, come on, you two!  Don't tell me you need Hermione for this."

Snape frowned.  "Should we tell her?"

"She told us not to."

"Ah."  A pause.  "Then does she want us to lie?"

"Hmmm . . . hard to tell . . ."

Amy looked as though she were having a hard time not reaching for her wand and transfiguring something else into something more deadly than a pillow.  "My godfather founded Durmstrang.  It's really hard to get in, a real elite school, but he put my name down the moment he was declared godfather."

Remus had to try a couple times to get words to come out.  "Then why – how – why are you here now?"

She crossed her arms, trying to tone down her smirk.  "You see, Remus, he needs a spy on this side, much like Sev is our spy on that side.  That, and . . ."

"And what?" Lupin asked, taking a few steps toward her.

Amy sighed.  "Well, Dumbledore knows this now, anyway.  Voldemort would love nothing more than to give me the perfect opportunity to kill Harry.  That's half the reason for the Occlumency: if he wakes up and doesn't remember a thing . . ." She trailed off, her meaning obvious.

For a long time, no one said anything more.

* * * * *

When school started, there was quite a buzz around school concerning Harry's absence.  Draco, of course, could not help but be heard across the Great Hall: "Probably did us a favor and walked into the Vanishing Cabinet; he'll be showing up thirty years from now in the arctic!"

"Where [i]is[/i] Harry?" Seamus wanted to know, digging into a mountain of mashed potatoes.

"Sick," Ron said shortly, knowing the excuse they had rehearsed but also realizing his ears turned red when he lied.

"Sick?" Dean echoed.  "You're joking, right?  There's nothing Madame Amy can't cure."

"Honestly," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at her half-eaten pork chops.  "She's only human."

"You mean you didn't hear?" Neville asked, eyes wide.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.  "Hear what?" she asked warily.

"It was all over the [i]Prophet[/i] just before New Year's," Dean said, reaching for a platter of carrots.

"[i]What[/i] was all over the [i]Prophet[/i]?"

Seamus shrugged.  "You know how she used to be at Dursmtrang?"

"Yes . . ."

"Well, her replacement – what's his name?"

"Andy," Lavender supplied, having tuned into the conversation.  "You're talking about the article, right?  The one with the picture of him?"

"The very [i]large[/i] picture of him," Parvati added, folding her hands over her heart and sighing, batting her eyes.

Seamus blinked.  "Ye – yes, that one."

Neville, completely oblivious, took up the story.  "He was cleaning out her desk – she must not've had time, or forgotten them, or something – and he found there was a false bottom in one drawer."

"So there's a false bottom, big deal," Ron muttered. 

Hermione shushed him.  "And what did they find?"

"Stacks of parchment," Dean said, holding his hands at an impossible distance for an unnoticeable false drawer to conceal.  "Rolls of it, covered in small writing."

"Research," Seamus clarified, finally focusing back on the pair.  "Research on practically every little-researched ailment there is."

"She's a genius," Neville said reverently, looking up to the staff table.

Ron followed his gaze.  Amy had her forehead in one hand, flipping through a fork with the other, her food forgotten on her place.  As they watched, Snape elbowed her slightly, causing her to blink and look up as he indicated her dinner, obviously telling her to eat.  Grabbing her fork, she shoved one bite in her mouth, still chewing it as she picked up the book and exited out a side door.  Looking a bit resigned, Snape threw down his napkin and followed her.

"It's the stress," Dean said knowingly.  "Now that everyone realizes she's a genius, she'll be expected to keep this up."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, turning to Ron with a look that said, "We need to talk" before returning to her meal.

* * * * *

Hermione grabbed Ron's wrist and practically dragged him across the Great Hall.  "Excuse me, Professor!" she called.

Professor Tobias turned.  "Miss Granger; Mr. Weasley."

"We'd like your permission to look at books in the Restricted Section," she said, brushing her hair off her face and stepping on Ron's foot to keep him from saying, "We do?"

The Dark Arts professor raised an eyebrow.  "Madame Pince knows which books all my students need."

"Well, see, it's not for class," she said, following him out a side door and beckoning Ron to follow.  "It has to do with Harry."

Professor Tobias stopped short and they almost ran into him.  Slowly he turned around.  "Madame Amy is seeing to his illness."

Hermione sighed.  "Professor, we know.  Ron was kind of there and heard the whole thing."

"I see."  His light blue eyes traveled over to Ron.  "And so you know."

"Well, that's kind of the problem."  Hermione shrugged.  "We don't really know.  Maybe if we had your permission to take out some books on Occlumency – not to learn it, mind, just to see if there's anything –"

"Anything you can do to help?" he finished.

"Actually . . . yes, that's exactly what I was thinking."

The professor sighed.  "Hermione, I know you're the brightest in your class, but Amy's a trained Healer.  They want her to head St. Mungo's, actually, though she politely declined . . . don't really understand it myself, but Severus is here, after all . . ." He trailed off.  "Of course, you're not supposed to know that."

Hermione waved that away.  "Can we at least have your permission to look?  You know Madame Pince won't let us in without your signature."

Professor Tobias ran a hand through his hair.  "You're not going to give up, are you?" he asked, resigned.

"No."  She smiled.  "I'm not going to give up."

"I see . . ." He rubbed his chin.  "Come to my office tomorrow afternoon.  I'll have the names of a few books for you.  Just – just don't tell Amy I'm letting a couple sixth-years get in on her work."

"Promise," Hermione said with a grin.  "Thank you, professor."

He shrugged.  "I'm not sure if you should be welcome, but . . . run along."

Ron had to scramble to catch up to Hermione.  "The restricted section?  And what exactly do you think we're going to find there?"

"More information on Occlumency, naturally," she snapped.  "And maybe we'll see exactly what might have gone wrong.  That would be rather useful, don't you think?"

Ron only groaned.  They weren't even back at classes and already he felt like he was being overloaded with homework.

* * * * *

A noise startled Amy awake.  Sitting up, she stared unseeingly across the moonlit room to the half-open door that led to the stairs.  Beside her, Professor Lupin mumbled something in his sleep and turned over, taking more than his fair share of the blanket with him.  For once, she let him, sliding her feet into her slippers and slipping on her dressing gown.  Taking her wand from the bedside table she quietly left the room, pausing only to perform the spell that made the door look like just a regular part of the wall.  Granted, it would not take a trained wizard too long to find it, but anyone in a hurry wouldn't have time to stop and investigate.

Her breath went out of her in an exasperated sigh when she cracked open the door to the infirmary far enough to get a glance inside.  "Lucius, it's just going to be worse if you keep coming back," she pleaded in a whisper, quickly shutting the door behind her.

"Amy."  He was across the room in three strides, taking her hands in his and searching her face.  "It might get worse, but it [i]will[/i] get better."

She frowned.  "What?"

Malfoy shrugged.  "He thinks he may have been too hard on you.  In three days Narcissa is going to be found dead in our mansion.  Suicide, the poor thing; just wasted away, pining for me."  His smile was fierce.  "And then, I believe, before the school year is over, your dear Potions master will be found cheating on you.  With one of the students, no less."

She blinked, trying to wake up and absorb everything.  "Can he arrange that?  No holes, complete alibis . . ."

Lucius' smile grew wider as he slipped an arm around her waist.  "He can do all that and more.  For, you see, my name will soon be cleared.  I, a grieving widower, will be there for you, a woman reeling with the fact that her husband never felt the need to remain true to her.  We, of course," he continued, touching his forehead to hers, "will find solace in each other's arms.  Next year you won't be back to Hogwarts; St. Mungo's will be in need of your assistance."

Amy tried not to frown, although it was a rather tame plan, considering the man devising it; only one dead?  "And Severus, of course, will be my excuse for leaving Hogwarts."

He nodded.  "And Snape will be forced to leave as well.  Hogwarts, I'm afraid, will have to scramble for staff: Potions professor, Healer . . . Dark Arts professor . . ."

[i]Two deaths.[/i]  "And you came here to tell me all this."

Sighing, Mr. Malfoy pulled back, leaning against the wall behind her and looking her in the eye.  "Sadly, no.  I was sent here to give you this."  He held up a letter, sealed with an elaborate design pressed into the wax.  "It's almost time."

"Time?"  She reached for the envelope, though he pulled it away.

"Time," he repeated, leaning in closer.  "Time for the world to see what side you really serve."

Amy raised a single eyebrow, snatching the envelope from his hand and slipping it into her pocket.  "And is this something you've been told straight out?"

His head shook slightly.  "But I can tell."

"You can tell."  She crossed her arms, giving him an appraising look.  "The Dark Lord wants to make me head of St. Mungo's next year; you think he'll manage that by getting me out now?"

Lucius drew back, giving her a shrewd look.  "I think he'll manage it any way he can."

She pondered this a moment before nodding.  "I suppose you're right."

Taking her chin in his hand, he raised her head so she would meet his eyes.  "I usually am," he said quietly, kissing her in a way he would have described as "sweetly," though it was doubtful he had ever done anything sweetly in his life.  "Sleep well, my love."

Her lips twitched into what might have been a smile had it paused to linger.  "Sleep well, Lucius."

With another smile, he swirled his cloak around him.  A moment later a spider scuttled away.

* * * * *

Stifling a yawn, Amy climbed back into bed, leaning against the headboard as she stared to open the letter.  "[i]Lumos[/i]," she whispered, aiming the beam of light at the paper so as not to wake Remus.  After reading it twice she fought the urge to crumple it up into a ball and throw it across the room, swearing harshly under her breath.

"Something wrong?" Remus asked sleepily, turning over.  "'s that?"

"A good excuse to shoot the messenger," she said, tossing it onto the bedside table and hugging her pillow to her chest, glaring moodily into the darkness.

Remus moaned.  "Don't tell me: absence makes the heart grow fonder."

She smirked.  "See, that wasn't so hard to memorize, was it?"

"Huh."  He caught her hand, interlacing their fingers.  "Well, Mrs. Lupin: what's bothering you tonight?"

"A lot," she admitted petulantly, releasing her pillow in favor if her husband, snuggling in his embrace.

"You have to start somewhere," he pointed out, running his fingers through her hair.

"All right, let's start here: my godfather wants to see me this weekend."

There was a moment of stunned silence as he tried to collect himself.  "Your – your godfather?"

Amy nodded.  "Apparently there are a few things he . . . wants to discuss."

His arms tightened around her.  "We'll talk to Albus and Severus in the morning.  There's nothing we can do about it now."

"Mmm."  She sighed.  "Just when you think things couldn't get any worse . . ."

"Your husband thinks he's being comforting when he's not?"

That got a laugh out of her, though he continued to hold her close until they both fell asleep.

* * * * *

The room was lit only by the glow of a fire as the wind whistled fiercely outside.  Wormtail had backed out, mouth open in awe of the fact that his master's goddaughter was quite possibly the most striking figure he had ever seen.

"Adele," Voldemort hissed through bloodless lips, actually going through the motions of enfolding her into a hug.  "You look well."  Had he been capable, the red eyes might have gazed upon her with something akin to fondness.

"As do you."  Amy smiled, cutting a confidant figure as she hid behind her Occlumency lessons.  She was dressed all in black, as was he, though hers was a fitted top and pants underneath a loose cloak and his was merely a simple robe.

Voldemort gestured her to take a seat as the tea poured itself.  ""This is about the Potter boy."

"I surmised as much."  Accepting the cup, she took a sip.

He nodded.  "I can't have him wake."

Amy frowned, holding her drink in both hands as if to warm them.  "I mean no disrespect, but if you were not able to kill him when he was a baby, how could I have the power to kill him now?"

His lips actually turned up into a chilling smile.  "That's my girl.  You can't.  But you're a Healer."

She sat back, thinking.  "I can drug him for a while without having any effect on him.  Or . . . I can wait until he looks like he's going to start to come out of it on his own and buy that much more time."

"You stick too closely to the oath you swore."

She raised an eyebrow.  "After spending that long in bed, he'll need to recuperate, and then I think I could influence certain people into staying the summer and trying to cram his missed schoolings into a few weeks.  With all that, he'll be too exhausted to even think of you."

"But still he'll be at Hogwarts."

"Right . . ." Setting her cup down, Amy rubbed her hands over her face.  "You know, since we've already concluded I'm not going to come up with it on my own, you might just tell me your plan."  She grinned slightly, like at a favorite uncle.

Voldemort stood and began to pace.  "You see, I am myself conflicted.  To keep him there, as you suggested, would give me free reign of the outside world, but wouldn't allow me to kill him.  Conversely, we cannot let him come to me in his weakened state if your reputation is to remain untarnished for the long term."

Amy nodded.  "The position at St. Mungo's.  Yes, Lucius mentioned it."

He nodded, still pacing.  "Yes, and it will do him well to have a wife with as good a standing as they think you have."

She took it all in stride.  "But you're still not telling me what I should do with the boy."

Stopping, he turned to face her, fixing her with his hypnotic gaze.  "You understand my predicament."

"Yes.  And will speak of it to no one, of course.  They wouldn't understand."

"They would see it as weakness," he agreed.  "I always said you were the brightest of the lot."

"Ah, but never when I was in the room."  Amy stood, as well.  "He will sleep until I hear from you again."

"Very good."  He caught her hands, pressing her fingers to his lips.  "And do not lose hope; this charade will end soon enough."

Her smiled shifted slightly.  "Yes.  It will."

* * * * *

"Don't touch me."  Those were the first words out of Amy's mouth when she got into the room and Remus started to stand up.

"Don't touch you?" he asked, the [i]Prophet[/i] clutched awkwardly in one hand.

"Not until I've burned this" – her cloak was flung over the top of the wardrobe door – "and everything else I'm wearing and have sprayed myself with disinfectant."

Her husband raised an eyebrow.  "It went . . ."

"Rather well.  Ick."  The fitted shirt followed.

"You look rather nice in that, if I'm allowed to say such a thing," he said.

She leaned around the door to give him a Look.  "Get me one in a color other than black and I might actually want to wear it."

"So noted."

"Honestly, it didn't go too poorly," she admitted, emerging barefooted in a pair of worn jeans and a sleeveless white top, collecting her outfit with distain.  "He doesn't think I'd be able to kill Harry even if I tried."

"He can't, not using his wand, can he?" Remus asked, slipping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

"Probably not," she agreed, leaning back into him and closing her eyes.  "I'm supposed to keep him asleep until I'm told otherwise."

"Can you do that safely?"

"Up until a point.  So we have a while to think of what I'm going to do then."  Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek she went to put her clothes in the hamper, rubbing her bare arms as she went back to the wardrobe and pulled out a worn black men's sweater.

Her husband raised his eyebrows.  "That would be the property of a certain Professor Snape, would it not?"

She gave him a look as she put her arms through the sleeve and zipped it up.  "Wives always steal their husband's shirts, you know."

"You're too meticulous with these details," he halfway grumbled, taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead.

"Remus Lupin, you were more worried than you let on," she accused good-naturedly, snuggling in his embrace.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Mmm-hmm."  She pulled back, a twinkle in her eye.  "Besides, Sev doesn't like it much, either."

"Huh?  I didn't follow that last jump . . ."

"Sev doesn't like me wearing his shirts; I had to fight for this one, and it's not like he ever wears it, anyway."  Amy rolled her eyes as if to add and exasperated "Men!" to the end of that sentence.

Remus raised an eyebrow.  "And why should he not like you wearing sweaters he never does?"

In response Amy raised her sleeve to his face.  "Smell."

Giving her a look as if he were only humoring her because he knew she was crazy, he sniffed.  "I don't smell anything."

"Probably not."  Smelling it herself, Amy grinned.  "I sprayed it with your cologne.  And Sev hates it when his sweaters come back smelling like you."

For a moment it looked as though she had him speechless.

"I guess you could say I'm just meticulous with my details," Amy said, hooking her arms around his neck.

Laughing, he kissed her again.