Chapter 4: HomeMaking
Meanwhile, we had begun to debate what to do about furniture. Renovation of the cabin was taking the lion's share of the money I had earned from Caldwell so far; it was possible that we might have a roof over our heads and no place to sit down. Hermione wondered whether Brady and Marita might be amenable to selling us some of the pieces from the cabin, but it was my understanding that cabin sales generally included all furnishings, right down to the measuring cups in the kitchen drawer. Still, we made the trip to the Lawfords' Thunder Bay home – ostensibly to check on Brady, report on the renovations, and politely beg for furniture. Sweet Merlin, this made two trips to a city in the space of two months! I would clearly lose my mind before all this was over. I wanted my life back in order, and it couldn't happen soon enough.
"Brady's staying in the hospital overnight," Marita told as after giving us a gracious welcome. "He's doing well enough, but sometimes after a treatment they want to keep him there for observation."
Hermione and I settled onto the sofa.
"Of course," I agreed. "I'm sure it's best for him."
"How are things going with the cabin renovations?" Marita asked eagerly.
"Splendidly. The gentlemen doing the work expect to finish up in about three more days."
"That soon?" She was taken aback.
"It's wizarding construction," Hermione said gently. "It goes faster than Mu – traditional construction."
"I see. I always wish I had known more about my grandfather and his magic," Marita sighed. "But he was the only one in the family tree, as far as anyone knew, so it simply wasn't talked of."
Hermione nodded. "I'm the only one in my family as well. I have no siblings, and no one other than my parents knew. It would have raised quite a few questions if it was made general knowledge."
"Of course. Such a shame, though! Such marvelous talents to keep hidden."
"I know. But it's necessary."
"You have a beautiful view," I commented. I'd been looking out the living room window, admiring Lake Superior in the distance; the view here helped made up for the fact that the Marita and Brady lived in the city.
"It is nice, isn't it? Makes you feel like you're outdoors – which you're not, of course, which is why I love it!" She laughed.
"I was wondering," I said. "Does the sale of your cabin include the contents?"
"Furniture, you mean? Yes, it does. One of the new owners plans on living there in-season. Oh, dear…" Marita stared from me to Hermione and back again. "You now have a home but no furniture? Well, we have way too much stuff crammed in here as it is, so I'm sure I could donate some items to the cause."
It was on the tip of my tongue to thank her for whatever assistance she could give, but suddenly I railed at the idea of taking hand-outs. Another check from Caldwell would be arriving by year's end, and we would wait until then to furnish our new home. Meanwhile, we owned Hermione's cookie jar, and the quilt we'd won at Bingo in Trapper's Bay. And a cookery book, a fishing rod, and our Potions supplies.
"That's kind of you, Marita, but I'm sure that we'll be able to fill the house with no problem."
Hermione shot me a look which insinuated that my pride was dangerously close to getting in the way, then made things worse by inquiring if we might visit Brady at the hospital while we were in town. It sorely tested the limits of my patience to spend one more minute in Thunder Bay, but now that the words were out there, there was no taking them back. Luckily, Marita said that her husband felt quite poorly on the days he was required to remain at the hospital, and suggested that another day might be better.
I was relieved when we returned to our cabin. Hermione, however, was frowning.
"What was that about?"
"What was what about?"
"Marita could have found some things we could use in the new house. Why tell her we didn't need any help?"
I started up the path toward the cabin. "I'm tired of taking charity."
Hermione gripped my elbow, causing me to stop in my tracks. "Severus, you can pin your very existence on charity. If it hadn't been for Brady Lawford saving your life and allowing you to stay at the cabin all these years, you'd probably be dead. Not to mention the fact that Marita sold us our new home for all of a dollar! Why turn up your nose at generosity now, of all times?"
"I'm not turning up my nose at it," I bristled. "I just want to wait until we can buy things we really want, not take what someone else doesn't want."
"But you won't get another check from Caldwell until December thirty-first, and that's when we need to be out of Lawford's cabin."
"I suspect we can conjure whatever we need for a while –"
Suddenly, Hermione's eyes filled with tears. Too late, I remembered: hormones. At least her bottom lip hadn't protruded to full quiver, and for that, I was grateful. I tried to soften my approach.
"What would you prefer to do?"
"I have my emergency money," she volunteered carefully.
I refrained from pointing out the obvious. The emergency money, Hermione's small savings account left over from her stint at the Canadian Ministry, was sitting untouched in the event of, well, an emergency. It wasn't meant to be frittered away. I had spent over a decade of my life being penniless, and I had no desire to do so again.
"Surely we wouldn't need to spend all of it?" I hoped I sounded eager to compromise. Perhaps it wasn't out of the question to provide my pregnant wife with at least a comfortable bed…
"No, of course not. Do you think I give a toad's rump about having fancy furniture? You should know me better than that! But there's no reason we can't buy a few essentials, Severus. There are lovely resale shops that have good, used furniture and household items. It doesn't have to be expensive!"
Hermione looked so determined that I had no choice but to give in.
….
Within the week, the cabin and outbuilding were finished. The three elderly builders shook our hands and thanked us profusely for the opportunity to 'freshen up the old girl'. Douglas Dinsmore showed up to do the final inspection.
"It's a good, solid home," he told us, smiling with satisfaction. "The boys did a great job. They just love what they do, don't they? I'll have a devil of a time ever trying to get them to retire."
I truly could not imagine 'the boys' retiring to their rocking chairs. They seemed perfectly content to wave their wands, maneuvering boards and firing volleys of nails for years to come.
Dinsmore accepted my bank draught – the large amount requiring a personal visit to the nearest wizarding bank in Winnipeg (another bloody trip to a city!) – and gave us a celebratory bottle of wine.
"I'm sure you will be very happy here for many years to come."
I was sure we would. After he left, Hermione and I stood in the doorway to our empty little home and gazed out over the little lake. The trees, clad in their autumn colors, gleamed in the sun.
"We need a canoe," she blurted.
"What?"
"We need a canoe! We have a lake of our very own, and no canoe! And a dock! I know we can fish from the shore, but it's so much easier with a dock!"
I could feel the contented smile freeze on my face.
The following day, Hermione went into town while I transferred my cauldrons to the new shed and lovingly arranged my ingredients on its shelves. While it was no match for my lab at Hogwarts, at least there was room enough without the need for Expansion charms. And it was all mine.
When Hermione returned, she was beaming.
"Guess what! I mentioned to Neola that we were in need of furniture, and she told me that her niece runs a resale shop in Sioux Lookout!"
"Oh?" I said neutrally. I didn't really want to go to Sioux Lookout to look for furniture, having had my fill of civilization for a good long while. It didn't matter that Sioux Lookout wasn't a city. It was still too big for my tastes.
"We could check it out."
Apparently the look in my eyes gave away my reluctance without me saying a word. Hermione sighed at once.
"Fine. We can go without you, as long as you trust me to choose things you won't complain about."
"It's just that I wanted to start up the Peace-and-Pepper again. You know that I can't leave it brewing untended for long." The excuse sounded lame even to my ears. Wait… "'We'?"
"Neola's husband, Stanley, has a pickup truck. She volunteered him to drive us into Sioux Lookout. That way, we can carry furniture back in the truck."
"But you're a witch," I pointed out. "You know perfectly well that you don't need a truck to carry anything."
"I know, Severus, but Neola doesn't know that. And she's so happy that we have our own place that I think she really wants to do something to help."
I wanted to say that we'd done just fine without help up until now, but the truth was that the people of Trapper's Bay were my client base. If you looked at it that way, it behooved me to be gracious and allow Stanley to take my wife to Sioux Lookout.
"Are you sure you don't mind if I stay here?" I decided it wouldn't hurt to demonstrate my willingness to be flexible. As long as Hermione didn't decide that she would really rather I come along to give my input on her selections.
"I don't mind, Severus. Really. I know you've been dying to start on Peace-and-Pepper again. But before anyone goes to Sioux Lookout," she added, "we need to finish up the road. Stanley needs to be able to bring the furniture directly here."
A good point. We'd already been taking it in turns to blast short stretches of trees out of the ground, and were halfway to the town road by now. And so we increased our efforts – which meant I had less time to start Peace-and-Pepper – and concentrated on the task at hand. In another week the road, which was basically just a strip of non-vegetation, was finished, and Hermione notified Neola that she was ready to visit Sioux Lookout any time Stanley was available. The following morning, a red pickup truck roared up the new road, the engine belching diesel fumes and fracturing the peace and quiet of the lake. I was doubly glad Hermione hadn't insisted on my going along.
Stanley Dorsey climbed out of the cab. He was the male equivalent of his wife: rather round and squat, with a long, dark braid falling down his back. He stopped short, staring in amazement at the cabin.
"You're kidding me, Sebastian. This place has been here all this time? How come no one knew about it?"
"It sat unused for many years," I began, but Stanley interrupted me.
"Yeah, but it looks pristine! Who'd you say your contractors were? They did a fabulous job!"
"Small business out of Toronto," I said vaguely. I was ready to cast a Confundus charm if many more questions arose, but just then Hermione emerged from the cabin.
"Stanley, good morning! This is so nice of you to help us. Would you like a cup of coffee before we head out? I know there's at least a cup left in the pot."
While it was commendable of my wife to play hostess, I didn't want to encourage Stanley to linger and ask more nosy questions about the cabin. Fortunately, Stanley had already had his caffeine for the morning, and he and Hermione soon departed.
They returned three hours later. As soon the truck came to a stop, Hermione hopped out, her eyes shining.
"I found some wonderful things," she gushed.
I eyed the piles of furniture and boxes in the bed of the truck; it looked like stacks of junk to me, but I held my tongue. Peace-and-Pepper was not the only thing I had brewing; a headache had begun working its way up from the base of my skull that morning, and now felt like a set of claws had settled into the back of my head. It wasn't helped by the fresh diesel fumes that hung in the air.
"Ready to move some furniture, Sebastian?" Stanley demanded heartily. "You wife's quite the shopper!"
Was that a compliment or not? I wanted more than anything to tell Stanley to unload the truck and let us take care of it from that point, but explaining why and how my pregnant wife could easily move a couch into the cabin was not an option. Headache or no, Stanley and I began emptying the bed of the truck and transferring the contents inside.
There were three dusty carpets of undetermined color, a sofa (ratty, I thought), an upholstered chair (equally ratty), a battered wood dining table with six chairs (why in Merlin's name did we need six chairs?), a mattress and box springs (no telling what it might be infested with), assorted boxes, and some slatted wooden panels which looked to have no purpose whatsoever. But Hermione seemed to know exactly how and where she wanted everything, so I had no choice but to withhold judgment for now.
By the time Stanley drove off, I was ready to cut my head off for some relief. Hermione began to explain, in detail, about each little thing she'd bought and why.
"What's wrong?" She interrupted her monologue to stare quizzically at me.
During the time I have lived in the North Woods, I have dealt with the issues of my past. I will never be congenial or mellow, but at least I'm no longer surly and bitter.
Except for right now, when all I wanted was to take a pain remedy and work on the base for the Peace-and-Pepper.
"Save your breath," I snapped. "You can explain why we spent good money on all this rubbish later!"
And even as I stalked out of the cabin, I knew I was in deep trouble.
….
I Disapparated to Lawford's cabin, where I downed a hefty dose of Soothing Solution and stretched out on the bed. I dozed off for half an hour or so and awoke feeling much improved. Deciding that I should probably face Hermione's wrath sooner rather than later, I returned to the new cabin. The door to the screened porch squeaked a noisy welcome when I pulled it open. I'd been a little annoyed by this quirk when I first discovered it – after all, weren't we paying the three old coots to fix things like this? – but Douglas Dinsmore had laughed at my complaint.
"It's a mark of character, Severus. That's what screen doors do."
"Hermione?"
There was a faint noise from the bedroom. I walked toward that room but discovered that my wife was not in our bedroom, but in the second bedroom. She was kneeling in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the strange slatted panels I had noticed earlier and looking utterly frustrated.
"What?" She eyed me coolly.
"I apologize for my behavior earlier," I said quietly. "I had a wicked headache. I should not have taken it out on you."
There was a long pause before Hermione grudgingly muttered, "Apology accepted. Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. I took a Soothing Potion and slept for a while." I motioned toward the panels. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to put the crib together. At the shop, they said it snaps together, but I can't figure out how yet."
A crib. I felt even guiltier for my outburst.
"Would you tell me what you wanted to explain earlier? About the things you bought?"
Hermione nodded and climbed to her feet. When she did so, the swell of her abdomen was more noticeable than ever.
"Look, Severus, I know that some of the things I bought are in rough condition. But with Reparo and some thorough cleansing charms, I think everything will be okay. And if there's something you really hate, we'll get rid of it, all right?"
"I'm sure it will all be fine," I said, now ready to embrace every last piece of junk. "Show me the things you bought."
She led the way into the living room, or what I had once heard someone refer to as a great room. The name was nonsensical, I thought; the 'Great Hall', at Hogwarts, made sense. A 'great room' in a house, in my opinion, merely meant that someone had forgotten to put up the walls between the living room, dining room, and kitchen.
During my absence, Hermione had laid out the carpets in the living and dining areas and artfully arranged sofa, chair, dining table and chairs. The effect was not displeasing, but everything still appeared quite shabby.
"Like I said," Hermione began, "this can all be mended and cleaned. It just won't appear brand-new."
She aimed her wand at the sofa, where a spring had worked its way through a tear in the back cushion. One flick and the spring sprang back at once and the fabric mended itself.
"I don't like the color, particularly," she continued.
"Nor do I." I found the sickly sea foam green revolting.
"But the good thing is, there were these nice, neutral slipcovers made for it, Severus," Hermione said, pointing to a lump of white fabric on the floor. "Those will be easy to keep clean with magic."
Several thoughts assailed me. The first was the memory of some horrid, lumpy slipcovers my mother had bought to cover our own ratty sofa on Spinner's End; they'd never fit correctly, were a ghastly floral pattern, and only served to shout that the Snapes were the next thing to impoverished. The second was that with a baby in the offing, it was a good thing that magic rendered cleaning up messes quite easy. Hermione, meanwhile, had moved to the dining table and demonstrated a Reparo on a nearly splintered chair leg.
"And," she said, moving to the kitchen where boxes of stuff sat waiting, "I found some several nice pots and pans and other cooking items. And some plates and silverware, of course. They don't match, of course, but I didn't think you'd mind."
"I don't," I agreed hastily. And nice pots and pans would be wonderful for our cooking pasttime; some of Lawford's pots had been badly dented, and the skillet tended to scorch anything and everything unless carefully tended.
Hermione was looking at me now with earnest hope in her brown eyes. It occurred to me that I had not only insulted her purchases earlier, I had also insulted her ability to make good choices. Of course, she had chosen to marry me, which called her common sense into question somewhat.
"If we work together," I said, "I'm sure we can get quite a lot cleaned and repaired by suppertime."
"And have a try at putting the crib together?" she asked eagerly.
"And putting the crib together." I gathered my wife into my arms.
...
Author's Note: I really should stop binge-watching episodes of Fixer Upper.
