I can't fight this feeling any longer
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow
What started out as friendship, has grown stronger
I only wish i had the strength to let it show
I tell myself that I can't hold out forever
I said there is no reason for my fear
Cause i feel so secure when we're together
You give my life direction
You make everything so clear
And I can't fight this feeling anymore
I've forgotten what I started fighting for
It's time to bring this ship into the shore
And throw away the oars, forever--
---
Are those your eyes
Is that your smile
Ive been looking at you forever
Yet I never saw you before
Are these your hands holding mine
Now I wonder how I could have been so blind
And for the first time I am looking in your eyes
For the first time I'm seeing who you are
I cant believe how much I see
When you're looking back at me
Now I understand what love is, love is
For the first time
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Tadeusz was fine enough company, and the week had been both educational and entertaining, but Edward was happy to be returning home. He was amused with himself; married less than two years and already unable to stay away from home longer than a week.
It was difficult at times to remember being married to Dinah, but he knew that he had never, not even in the first months, been wrapped so tightly around her fingers as he was now wound around Amanda's.
His departure was delayed a over half an hour by an unexpected meeting with Professor Snape, current Potion's Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A three day convention on the methods of teaching potions was to take the place of the wand convention, and from Professor Snape's demeanor it was easy to deduce that he did not consider this a holiday. In fact, he looked absolutely sour.
" Ahh...how nice to see you again, Professor Snape!" Edward greeted. Snape's teeth unclenched with what seemed to be a great effort and his habitual sneer lessened to the degree he thought appropriate when addressing someone of his own house, and who socially outranked him by birthright.
" Ollivander." he said simply.
Edward glanced down at the smooth blackthorn wand that the Potion's Master gripped in his pale fist.
" Well cared for, I see. But then I never doubted. "
Snape's shoulders abandoned their defensive position about his ears, and he flipped his hand over so the wand was in view. There was something rather spidery and dramatic about this pale, long hand emerging from the large black sleeve of his robe, something that made you think he might be cool and hard to the touch--a person chilled after a long fever. Edward did not wish to take the wand from him, but Snape jabbed it toward him impatiently.
"I've no complaint with the wand." he said.
" Have you a complaint with anything else?"
" Occasionally. But not today. I merely have a request. I have reason to believe that someone has tampered recently with this wand. Could you examine it briefly? "
Edward took the instrument at last, and rolled it between his fingertips. It did not feel good anymore. A wand owned by another witch or wizard for a great period of time emitted a repellent magical pulse to anyone sensitive enough to notice. Most people thought it was the weight, the smell, the color or the length they didn't approve of, when in truth it was the wand kicking out in protest against strange ownership.
Even with his head down, he could see that Snape's attention was turned on the crowd of people trying to gain entrance to the atrium, a flood of potion masters and alchemists carrying leather cases of equipment. They were being slowed by the steady out-streaming of wandmakers exiting by the same door.
Flicking his glance upward, over the top of the glasses he had donned, he saw that Professor Snape was beadily glowering from behind the curtain of his black, slick hair. After a moment, he sniffed slightly and returned his attention Ollivander. Apparently whoever or what ever he had been spying on had disappeared for a moment.
" It appears to be in pristine condition." Edward announced. He knocked out a simple levitation charm though for looks, and nodded approvingly. " That's the durability of blackthorn. It hasn't even warped in what I imagine is a very humid working environment."
" Most grateful. " Snape said, his voice now silky with some hidden intent." One can never be to sure these days, what with the attacks."
Edward stiffened somewhat.
" Indeed."
"I do believe I owe you a small debt of gratitude..." Snape continued, taking no notice of Edward's posture. " you will see that I am a man of honor in that regard."
This small debt was both trivial and great, depending on how it was viewed. Severus Snape at the raw age of eleven, brought into the wandshop by his thin, grey-complexioned mother who kept a steely grip on the boy's arm, just above the elbow. That was Edward's first memory of the man before him now, that ragged, sullen boy with sallow skin and hooked nose.
The wand that came to life in the boy's hand, the very same blackthorn wand he twirled gracefully was at the time the most expensive wand in the shop. The wood had been particularly hard to get that year, the dragonstring had been three times the price due to an epidemic of paralyzing virus that coursed through the Norwegian Ridgebacks--the preferred dragon for heartstring.
The woman would not pay the price. Could not. She had only enough money saved from years of secret hoarding to by the simplest of tools for her son's education. His father would not finance what he considered an abomination of nature. In a moment of rather uncharacteristic generosity, Edward had given the wand to Severus.
Perhaps it had been pity for the boy's station, or maybe it was respect for what he perceived would some day be a brilliant Occlumens, he couldn't now justify himself. In fact, he had forgotten the favor, and considered that it should remain forgotten, but he could see noble determination in Snape's black eyes. Perhaps when you were man who had received little kindness, every small gesture seemed overwhelming.
He would not bruise what he imagined was an already pummeled pride by denying or brushing aside the remark, he merely gave a bow to the younger man in acknowledgment.
" As I said, it never hurts to be to careful these days." Snape repeated, with a toss of his hair in the direction of a side door. Edward raised his head as discreetly as possible and caught sight of a familiar face in the shadow of a pillar. Elias.
" He keeps questionable company these days. " said the potion's master, just as another wizard slipped a sheaf of papers into Elias' hand. The second wizard turned abruptly and made his way across the atrium, careful to keep his face hidden by the red hood of his cloak. There was just the briefest glimpse of a disfiguring strawberry mark high on the left cheekbone.
" Umbridge."
" Well, good day to you, sir." Snape resumed his cool demeanor, folding his arms across his thin chest. He strode away before Edward could reply, leaving him to puzzle over his the strange encounter, and the possible reason for Elias and Adelfried Umbridge to be present at such a place.
Then he saw Elias begin his jaunty way about the crowd, stopping to talk with every other Wizard. He pressed a sheet of paper into the hands of Aristo Balderdash, a notable reviewer on the newest potions and their effects. Aristo flushed when he read the printing, leaving Edward to imagine, as he stepped into the Disapparation ring, that it was more of Umbridge's fanatical propaganda. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He fell through Eloise's Floo in the early afternoon, attempting to appear as nonchalant as possible. He brushed soot and ashes from the velvet coat-sleeves, and rang the bell to announce his arrival. Eloise came bustling in, her glasses pushed up into her hair, and a stern expression on her still handsome face. In her hands she grasped a handful of what looked to be invitations.
" Edward. What do you want?" she demanded.
" Good afternoon Eloise, and how are you?" he answered.
She glowered.
" I was hoping to find Amanda." he continued when she did not answer.
" She isn't here."
" Well, where is she? She promised she wouldn't leave!"
" Stella escorted her home this morning. She said she had some things to do."
Eloise half turned to leave, then halted, as if waiting for him to say something else. She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
He took her ill-disguised hint, excused himself, and Flooed home.
He hurried out of the study, calling her name. There was no answer at first, and a chilly little thread of apprehension began to squirm beneath his breastbone. Climbing part way up the stairs, he called again and was relieved to hear Amanda's slightly chipper voice sounding from the second bedroom.
Pushing open that door, he found the chamber to be seemingly empty of Amanda. There were however, several cartons stacked in there that had not been there before. A new set of white curtains fluttered at the windows and the door to the smallest section of the attic was open. A musty stream of cold unpleasant air wafted down.
Curious, he lifted the flap to one of the boxes and peered within. It was full of Amanda's sewing items, such as her tapestry box, envelope patterns, and rolls of material. Letting the flap close, he turned to eye the bed with weariness. He remembered well enough that it had a very comfortable feather mattress, and it was incredibly tempting to stretch out across the white coverlet of just a moment or two.
The bed was a family heirloom, his grandmothers, his mother's, and for a brief time, Dinah's. He had moved it into this room before the wedding, believing that Amanda would not want to start her married life sleeping in her predecessor's bed. The bed they now shared was a more modern brass bed from his father's sister's trousseau.
He heard Amanda's step overhead, then on the narrow attic stair. In a moment, she appeared in the narrow doorway with her arm's full of what looked to be white linens. Spying him by the bed, she dropped the linens onto the nearest box, and with an elvish grin lifted the hem of her skirt and charged him.
He didn't have time to brace himself, and when she collided with him, there was a moment of helpless flailing before they sank backward onto the soft mattress. Had she no mercy for someone who was old and tired? Apparently not. She only smiled down at him saucily and stated casually;
" I missed you."
He smiled in a satisfied way.
" Well, I believe you know how I felt."
She thought of the handful of letters stuffed into her letter box, and nodded.
" How was the convention?"
" Conventional." he replied. She nudged him in mock irritation." But I enjoyed it, all the same. "
" Was it cold?"
" Yes. In fact it was. " he was growing suspicious of her smiling teeth. She was up to something. " Where is your mother? She didn't leave you here alone did she?"
" She is in the hothouse admiring my cannas."
" And what is that you are doing? Here, I mean. Sewing room...?" Winter's old treadle sewing machine sat freshly oiled on a table in the corner, surrounded by piles of ribbons, and a few baskets of this-and-that.
" No, still a bedroom. I thought it could use some freshening up though.It's hardly habitable."
" Oh..." was she perhaps, contemplating inhabiting it herself? The thought was a gloomy one.
Seeing his change of expression, she raised up slightly.
" Am I too heavy?"
" No! I was only resting."
She escaped him, but not before he had pulled out the ribbon holding back her hair. When she stood, she carefully smoothed out the front of her mauve dress, and held up a hand to dissuade him from rising as well.
" You rest. I am going to go tell mother that you are home. I'm sure she is bored with chaperoning, and cannas."
" Caveat viator, Eloise seems to be in a mood."
" Yes." Amanda laughed. " That is why we came over here."
She quickly retied her hair with the wrinkled white ribbon, and hurried from the room. He noted with satisfaction that she looked better. She was still alarmingly thin, and rather pale, but the lackluster and apathetic posture had nearly vanished, replaced with the straight shoulders and graceful step of before. Her eyes, though...were still deep and sad. Perhaps that would never fade, now.
For a few minutes, he contemplated the possibility of falling asleep, but decided in favor of dinner instead.He had noted on his way through the downstairs that something very fragrant was simmering in the kitchen. One could never be sure what it might be, since Polly's unfortunate demise there had been a unique variety of dishes from Amanda's collection of American cookbooks, and whereas some were divine, others were merely palatable, and yet others managed to stray into the realm of dangerously over-spiced.
By sheer will-power alone, he rose from the bed, and followed the heavy supper smells down the stair case, until he found Amanda and Stella in the kitchen; Amanda stirring a pan of something red, and Stella preparing to leave, her hands filled with herb bundles and shoots. She gave him a vague acknowledgment on her way out.
As soon as Stella was gone, he took form his pocket a small parcel, and placed it in Amanda's palm. He had been barely constraining his excitement over this gift for sometime, and had almost revealed it to her twice in letters. However, he was perfectly calm as he dropped it into her hand, hoping she had not broken it earlier when she landed on his pockets.
" A souvenir." he said simply.
Unwrapping the gold, paisley-printed tissue paper carefully, Amanda discovered first a small velvet box, much like Muggle jewelry was sold in. Fumbling for a second with the elaborate lid closure, she at last opened it to reveal what must be the world's tiniest piano!
" Oh! Edward...it's so small!" she practically squealed. Indeed it was small; it could rest with care on one of her fingers, and comfortably on two fingers. Intricately carved with a shameless amount of scrolls and fleur-de-lys, it was a perfect miniature, right down to it's 88 ivory keys.
He lifted it carefully from her hand and sat it on the table, then from a mounted bracket in the box's lid he took a silver device resembling a steel crochet hook, only it was little larger than a straight pin. Using this delicate hook he touched one of the keys. A crystalline note rang truly through the room.
" That's impossible!" she murmured, taking the pin from him. " How can it play notes, when it is so tiny?"
Every whisper light tap of the hook struck a note from the minuscule instrument, much to her sheer delight.
" It's magic Amanda. " he said.
" It's beautiful! That's what it is. It has wires?"
He showed her the back of the piano where the wires were so thin and fine they might have been only strands of brunette hair stretched between flecks of snow.
" The company creates them in full scale--if you turn it this way you can see the company's seal--then they shrink them. The Sforzando's were the first to accomplish this. Even now, no other miniaturists can compete with them."
" It's a treasure...but I'll have to think of something to give you in return." she smiled coyly.
" I would be satisfied hearing you play something on it."
" I don't know if I could--nothing complex at least. I would need two hooks."
" Then play something simple, and after dinner I'd be charmed to hear the complex extent of your talent on the real piano. It's been ages."
" It's been only a week!" she laughed, blushing as she gripped the silver hook tightly, noticing then that it had filigree designs along it's handle to match the piano and to help keep the fingers from slipping. After a moments thought, she began carefully pecking out "Sweet Afton". It was slow and halting as the hook kept sliding from the polished surface of the keys. But the notes were so pure and so sad that it made the effort worth the price.
When she finished, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and smiled.
" It was made for soft songs."
" Indeed. And Burns, or at least that Burns, is very soft."
" I always had a fondness for it...perhaps because my father named me Mary."
" I've often wondered why you aren't called by that name."
" It was a family name. There were four Mary's already." she said sadly. " I always regretted that. Amanda was such a...modern name."
" Amanda is a lovely name. You give it a grace and class it seldom achieves, I believe."
She ran the hook idly down the tiny keys, and shivered at the sound of the delicate scales climbing impossibly high.
" What are you thinking? " he asked.
" That it looks to be made for the fairies to play on. And that dinner should be ready."
Over dinner, which was a sort of chicken stewed in a sauce of wine and plums, he told her everything about the convention.
There seemed to be a lot more to relate in retrospect, mostly things that Tadeusz had said or done that he found to be particularly amusing. Also a wonderfully detailed description of the architecture, and layout of the city, both Muggle and Wizarding. She listened with great interest when he described Fala and Ushta and the gigantic oak.
Edward frowned suddenly, and dropped his fork.
" Anything the matter?" she asked.
" I forgot..." he was patting down his numerous pockets. " How could I forget? It must be the Apparation...took seventeen points to return...where is that thing?"
He muttered to himself as he rummaged, pulling out all manner of papers and booklets, keys, specatacles, a watch fob, a half-eaten bag of Every Flavor Beans, some coins, owl treats, and the twig from the oak. He placed all of this on the table, and resumed his treasure hunt. At last he discovered Fala's gift. He had enlarged his watch pocket to make room for it, so he could be certain it would be safe.
" Quickest way to loose something is to put it away." he commented with irritation at himself. " Here, Fala sent this to you."
Amanda drew back her hand instinctively.
" To...to me? What is it?"
" Take it. It's a sort of... bag, I think. A very strange gift, a bag."
" Is...it safe?"
" Quite."
She uncurled her fingers again, allowing him to pass the bag across. It was heavy, and smelled strongly of oiled leather, herbs, and smoke. Immediately, Amanda felt a sense of peace and protection course through her, strong enough to make her flinch.
" What is it?" he demanded.
" Nothing. It's just strong. I see...it is a type of amulet. " she turned it over delicately and examined the beadwork. " Smoked deerskin. Smoking it not only preserves it, but makes it especially supple. "
" He said it must not be opened." Edward stated, impressed by her familiarity with the object.
" Of course." she held it up and inhaled deeply. " Sage. Mmmm."
" You don't seem very surprised."
" Oh. Well, my father had a number of things like this. Medicine bags, peace-pipes and such. He had quite a collection of what he called American traditional items, and my grandmother called 'whimsy'. Rattlesnake rattles, totems, bone necklaces. This is very lovely craftsmanship, but I don't understand why this man, Fala , would send such a powerful thing? He isn't anyone that I know."
"He said he saw the need in a vision. Perhaps it is because you and he are originated from the same country, and perhaps share a spiritual kinship.He spoke of a great many things like that. He said you would know it's magic. He said that you have bad dreams."
Amanda tucked the thing into her pocket.
"Perhaps you're right and I absorbed more about such things than I knew, from my father. Tell me more about him, and his wands." she delicately avoided the subject of her dreams, and he chose not to pursue it.
Instead, he completed the story over the last of the main course, and the conversation did not exhaust itself to well into what he considered a remarkably delicious dessert. Of this, she only took a few disinterested bites clearly thinking of something.
" May I tell you something?" she asked when the conversation had faded to light sleepy remarks. She was fidgeting with the tablecloth.
" Of course."
" You won't be upset?"
" I...do not expect so." but he gripped his napkin tightly, prepared for news of some catastrophe. Crisp had fallen to his death, a supply of wands had fallen into a fire and been burned, Adelfried Umbridge had visited...a number of possibilities flooded his mind, crowding and jostling.
" Well, I have been debating whether or not to mention it, right away...but I really can't see putting it off any longer." she took a deep breath, and blurted. "I...I'm pregnant."
He paused, his glass lifted halfway to his lips, his eyes large and almost completely silver over the rim.
She waited expectantly, her brows raised in much the same way Eloise's had been earlier. Swallowing, and slowly lowering the glass, he cleared his throat. She had managed to take him quite by surprise.
" Well..." was all he could manage at first. This was an awkward announcement, so soon after the drama of last year. The first words that came to his mind were " So soon?' and " Are you certain?" both of which seemed not only insensitive, but foolish as well.
" Well..." he said for the second time.
" Well..." she repeated, pinching her lip with her teeth.
" Well...
" Well...?" she gave slight smile.
" Well! " there was a decided twinkle in his eye. They both laughed.
They sat for a few more moments, watching the candles burn down. Edward drank wine, and she drank water, and waited patiently, for him to express his opinion. She could see the same thoughts and concerns on his face that had been plaguing her since she discovered her condition. Neither of them had truly believed it could happen again so easily, and certainly not so soon, after the warning she had received from Healer Penny.
After a few more minutes of silence allowed him to absorb the truth, he reached across the table, took her good hand and gave it a soft squeeze.
" It's going to be all right this time, isn't it?" more of an optimistic statement, than a question.
She smiled brilliantly.
" I think so. Completely."
" Yes. I think so too. And that means that everything is well with the world."
" Truly?"
He lifted her knuckles to his lips, still smiling.
" Oh, yes. You have my word this time."
---
The evening ended quietly. They left the table and retired to the parlor, where she had to hide a smile of amusement as he carefully seated her at the piano, pulling out the piano bench himself before dragging one of the straight-backed side chairs close for himself. She started by playing " Sweet Afton ," once more, letting the mellow notes caress the room. The miniature piano sat before her at the corner of her sheet music, glittering in the soft light of the oil lamps.
He listened to the music, and thought about life, and how strange it could be. It never seemed so strange as in the late evening, by candlelight. Perhaps because that was when dreams were the nearest at hand. The piano was soft and sleepy, a veritable blanket over his tumultuous emotions. What did the feel? Sometimes it was nothing at all...and then again it was everything all at once. For too long it had been easy to not have to bother with his feelings, but now they were being re-hashed for his enjoyment.
He felt terror, the most absolute of everything. He had decided that Amanda was something too precious to lose, and hadn't he inadvertently placed her in danger once more? Certainly, Demogene was no longer a threat...the poor crazed soul, but anyone else could be.
Yet he was pleased, and felt for the first time an excitement at the prospect of being a father once more. This wouldn't be Elias, this would be Amanda's child. His child. Theirs together, and that was a powerful thought that needed much examination.
Gazing at her as she played, he thought that she was lovely enough that it hurt to look upon her for too long. Had he never noticed before how long and graceful her fingers were, with their little oval nails? He thought her hair once to be too orange, a sort of burnt color...but now it looked luxuriant and rich as it fell down her narrow back. Once she turned and gave a small smile as she began a trickling set of notes, and as he met her agate grey eyes, he realized that for someone with no magic, she was, to him, the most bewitching thing of all.
She felt his persistent gaze after a while, and turned with an inquiring look.
" What is it?"
" I was just thinking, that you are going to have to be even more careful than before. "
" I have been."
" This very afternoon, you ran and jumped on the bed."
" I didn't!' she replied indignantly. " I jumped on you. We fell onto the bed."
" Well--I--I.." he stammered, flustered for a moment, by her expression of innocence.
" Well, there will be no more of that! And you shouldn't stand for so long, especially over the stove..."
She turned politely, hands folded in her lap, and listened as he stood and reeled off a ridiculous list of things she should not be doing. In the end, she nodded just as congenially as she had the first time she had ever heard these warnings, and eventually he trailed off, seeing that she was merely amused.
Seating himself once more, with a sigh, he pointed at the piano.
" Well? Don't just sit there, " he said, in fair imitation of Eloise. " play something."
He settled back into the chair.
" Something light. Minor keys are bad for the digestion."
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I can't fight this feeling-Reo Speedwagon
The first time-Rod Stewart