Chapter 32: Bury Your Dead

Fabian and Gideon Prewett were buried side by side on the same day. The cemetery was full of mourners, all dressed in black, standing in rows on either side of a path leading to the gravesite, like a guard of honour for the brothers who had died like heroes. Amelia had spent a solid hour standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, smoothing out the creases from her black pants as if the action could also smooth out the creases in her mind. Everything had felt different after the Prewett brothers had died. Amelia hadn't spoken a word for about a day and a half afterwards, finally breaking her silence to breakdown in Alice's arms. After that she had tried to continue as normal, but had found it impossible. Work felt like a dangerous new world; though she had lost colleagues before, she'd never lost her own team members, let alone ones who had meant so much to her. As the team leader, Amelia had been cleared of any responsibility, but she still felt guilty and she had had to take a leave of absence.

A lot of her guilt was directed towards Dolores. Amelia hadn't been around when the news was broken to her secretary. She didn't think she would've been able to face it. However, when she finally worked herself up to face her friend, she was shocked to find that Dolores was seemingly avoiding her. Every time she entered a room, Dolores, looking stoney faced, would duck out. Amelia was worried, hoping that the other witch wasn't isolating herself. As the funeral procession started, Amelia saw her standing at the back on the opposite side, her face unreadable apart from the decided coldness that made up her expression. There was something wrong about the deep black colour where the bright pink would have been. Amelia thought back to the last conversation they had had and she shivered. The Prewett brother's family, all resplendent red heads, stood closer to graves and Amelia realised, with more guilt, that Dolores probably hadn't met them yet. Her fiance's family, and the first time she would even see most of them was on the day of his funeral.

The service was simple, mostly tributes from friends and family. Fabian's sister Molly had asked Amelia if she wanted to say anything but she couldn't bring herself to do it. All the unresolved feelings she'd had for Fabian had been welling to the surface lately and, she decided, standing in front of a crowd of a hundred mourners was not the place to work through them. In the end, Frank had spoken on behalf of their team. Eloquent and powerful, with more than just a touch of humour, he'd expressed what their little family had meant better than Amelia ever could. She'd been holding back tears, but allowed herself to shed just a few through her laughter. It was, surprisingly, a nice feeling. Then she noticed Philip Cho standing at the very back of the crowd, his wand drawn, his eyes darting back and forth. Scanning the rows, she noticed a sort of chain of similarly alert Aurors surrounding the group and her heart sunk again. Of course there would be security, after everything that had happened. She hadn't even thought about it and nobody had thought to ask her. To be honest, she was grateful that she hadn't had to worry. Still, it reminded her that though this was a personal loss, it was part of a larger conflict. And she hated that. This moment should have belonged solely to Fabian and Gideon; but the shadow of their enemy still loomed over them all.

The service ended and Amelia found herself wandering rather aimlessly through the cemetery. She didn't want to go to the afternoon tea, though she had been invited by the family: Fabian had declared that he wouldn't go to a funeral if there wasn't going to be free food, but Gideon said that he found it strange, the idea of a sort of 'post-match function', and Amelia couldn't help but agree with the latter. But the witch also didn't really want to go home. She's spent a lot of time staring at the walls lately.

"Howdy, Stranger."

Amelia felt an arm slip through hers and turned to see Alice Longbottom striding beside her. Through the small witch's fastened coat, Amelia could see the beginnings of protruding baby bump and, not for the first time, it made her smile.

"Hello Alice," she said, glad of the company.

They walked along.

"Nice service," Alice said, "though Fabian would've said it was too long."

"Yeah, well," Amelia replied, somewhat stiffly, "he had the attention span of your average goldfish."

Alice smirked, but then looked at her friend with concern.

"How are you holding up?" she asked gently.

Amelia felt herself tense involuntarily. When she didn't respond right away, Alice did not push the point, but she held her gaze expectantly. Amelia swallowed.

"Well," she said slowly, "If I'm honest..."

"Be honest," Alice said kindly.

There was another pause. When she finally did speak, Amelia's voice came like a whisper.

"I didn't think it would be this hard."

Warm tears had welled up in her eyes and her throat hurt like crazy from trying to hold them back. Alice laid her head on her shoulder and pulled her arm even tighter into a sort of half hug. Amelia wiped away the tears and then placed her hand on to Alice's, giving her a smile of thanks. The first few days after Fabian had died, Amelia had wanted to shut the world out and never speak again, but Alice had made it very clear that she wasn't going to let that happen. She had come around, made dinner, cleaned the house, sat there as Amelia had wept in a curled up ball on the sofa. Thinking back on it now, Amelia felt another pang of guilt about Dolores.

"Have you talked to Jane recently?" Amelia tried to sound casual.

Alice shook her head.

"Tried to pop round a few times, but she's moved out."

"What?" Amelia was surprised, "As in, out of her flat?"

"Too many memories, I guess," Alice shrugged, "I can't say I blame her."

"So where's she gone?"

Again Alice shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm worried about her, really. I saw her around the office a few times, but she stopped coming in when you stopped."

Amelia winced.

"I've been selfish," she whispered.

Alice shook her head.

"You've been hurting. We all have."

They made it to the cemetery gates without saying another word. Amelia saw Frank waiting, ever patient, ever loyal. He raised a hand and gave a solemn nod, which she returned. There was a sense of survivors guilt that hung between them now, the remaining halves of two pairs that had made up a whole. It was just another rift that Amelia hoped she could fix one day.

"Tell him," she said to Alice, "that I thought he spoke beautifully."

"I will," Alice smiled.

She took both of Amelia's hands in hers and gave them a squeeze, as if to say everything will turn out okay.

"So what will you do now?" Alice asked.

"I haven't definitely decided yet," Amelia replied, "but..."

She trailed off.

"You'll take the Head of Office job," Alice said.

Amelia looked at her, searching her friend for the answers she couldn't find in herself.

"Are you mad at me?" she sounded like a small child.

"No," Alice scoffed, "God no! It was only a matter of time."

"I feel like I'm abandoning you, abandoning Frank-"

"Amelia," Alice cut her off, "we know you never would. Just as we never would, nor Gideon or Fabian, if we had that choice. But things change. Sometimes in an instant. We've seen that, hell, we knew that before any of this even started. Things change and we have to change with them. That's the bargain we make."

"As Aurors?"

"As people."