Samuel felt the heat rising in his face. With dagger in hand, facing down an old friend, there was no point in denying anything, but perhaps he could control the damage. "It seemed the best choice for me to carry. There's no risk of John trying to reach for it when he inevitably realizes that I have it." The afternoon sun had drifted low enough to force Samuel to squint at the interloper standing on his deck.
Kingsley was watching him carefully. "Sev, Remus wouldn't hurt you."
"I know that! If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit on edge." He forced himself to slide the blade into the leather at his wrist. "Forgive my atrocious manners." He swept his arm to indicate the other chair, and picked up the lemonade as Kingsley settled in with a glass of his own. The bite of tart lemon on his tongue helped him ground himself.
"Maybe this will help." Kingsley set the willow wand on the table and slid it toward Samuel. "The Wizengamot has cleared you, and Arthur offers his apologies."
The thought of why Arthur Weasley would send that message filled Samuel with a dull, aching grief. "He was never meant to know."
"It was unavoidable, once Mad-eye pressed charges. Yaxley was happy to name Penelope as Bella's informant. He thought the information would seal your fate." Kingsley let out a bitter chuckle. "You had no choice, Severus. Penelope was gleaning information from Percy. They'd been thwarted at the Ministry, so she had him looking for a new way into Hogwarts when she was killed."
"Stupid boy was only trying to reconcile with his family. Too arrogant to see that he was being played."
"And she was under a dark wand herself. Bella's good at finding the soft under-belly. After spending a sickening hour interrogating Madame Lestrange, I don't believe there was ever a good resolution to this." Kingsley paused and stared at the low hills that enclosed the valley for a moment. "I was hoping to find Potter here."
"Sorry. You seem to have missed him." Samuel actually sounded a bit smug to his own ears.
Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "Purely by accident, I'm sure. Where is he?"
"There was some unexpected business for the clinic. One of my patients required a chaperone while she handles a time sensitive legal matter."
"The mystery poisoning, right?"
He froze. "How indiscreet was I?"
"I believe the word you're looking for is 'frantic', but given the circumstances, I'll forgive your lack of faith in my powers of persuasion. What did Remus add to this lemonade?"
"Basil. Does Potter need to request political asylum?"
Kingsley snorted.
---
"I can't cook for the Minister of Magic."
"What is wrong with you, John. This is Kingsley who used to scavenge burned toast at Grimmauld Place. Fine. I'll cook."
The wolf took the bait. "No! That's okay. I'll see if Mary has any more elk in her freezer."
Samuel held most of the snort inside.
"Where is Kingsley, anyway?" John asked as he opened the refrigerator and began gathering vegetables.
"Amanda and Reggie are giving him the tour."
"Here's the diner, there's the school and the clinic, oh, look, we're back home. Not a very big town."
Samuel saw his point but felt the need to add, "You forgot the paddocks and the bend in the river where the ducks gather. She was thinking of saddling the horses. Merlin knows they'd like the exercise."
"Samuel, why do you have horses when you hate to ride?" John's voice was filled with studied innocence.
"I didn't know that when I moved out here, did I? Besides, Robert always has a few students who need an experience in mutual-dependence." He stared at John's reddening ears as the man laughed himself silly at the sink. "Oh, stuff it, Wolfe. It was never a problem when Troy lived in town."
"Samuel..." John's eyes broadcast sincerity, and his face was so full of compassion that Samuel couldn't let him complete the thought.
"No, John. I'm not going to break. A bit of independence is good for the boy. It's probably good for me, as well." He drew a sharp breath. That was quite enough for this confessional. "More flowers?"
"Waiting when I came back from the mailbox, just like clockwork."
Somehow that didn't ease Samuel's worry. "Maybe you could take Kingsley and Amanda with you tomorrow. I would like for her to spend more time around people."
"You could hardly ask for a better bodyguard. I know she has Reggie now, but he's a companion, not a guard dog." John closed his eyes for a moment, and his face relaxed as he conceded, "Okay, I'll invite them along when they get back, but you'll need to handle dinner tomorrow. I can't cook while I'm in Missoula."
Samuel smirked as inspiration struck. He pulled a large covered casserole dish from the cupboard and began gathering ingredients. He had finished mincing garlic and quartering tomatoes when John looked over his shoulder. "Never you mind," he answered the unspoken question. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow with the rest of them." He was certain his secret would be out when he specified the bread for John to bring home; why not enjoy teasing them tonight? Basil and olive oil melded with the sharp aroma of the garlic and then he settled the lid on top and slipped the dish in the refrigerator. There, even if he forgot about dinner until late afternoon, he would be ahead of the game.
John chuckled and turned back to the sink. "I hope you know a better name for that dish than I do."
"Umm... I will by tomorrow night. Kingsley said he'll stay through Saturday if we want an evening out. What do you think?"
John tossed out casually, "Cathy's holding a table for us. I understand the food is amazing."
It was Samuel's turn to chuckle. "Don't ask me. I couldn't taste anything that night, either. Carol recommends skipping the meal entirely and filling up on the eclairs." He paused to scowl at John's interest in the suggestion. "A very bad idea this close to the moon. No?"
"Hmm.. a pity. Will you dice some onions for me?" John was supplying large onions and the cutting board even before Samuel agreed.
"And a knife? The one I was using before would be fine."
John turned and faced him directly. "Something wrong with the one in your sleeve?"
iDo. Not. Yell./i After a breath Samuel supplied, "Yes, I'm carrying a knife. No I do not wish to cut onions with a dagger." He thinned his own eyes at John's unmasked scrutiny. "Think of it as my very own Reggie, just not as pungent."
"Reggie doesn't stink. Ever. How long do you plan to carry your 'Binky'?"
Samuel gave an even deeper scowl as he estimated the force required to smash an onion against John's head. Just in case I ever choose to do so, of course.
---
The night was so still, it was difficult to believe that he was sharing his home with a patient, two wizards, and a dog. He stared through the gloom at his darkened driveway, daring the shadows to move. Maybe Kingsley was right and he was becoming as paranoid as Mad-eye Moody. Not possible. That fool had insisted that the Aurors re-open the file of every presumed-dead-Death-Eater now that he had definitive proof of Snape's continued existence. Yet here he sat, in the dark, watching shadows, wondering if they were the same ones he'd glanced at each night for the last four years.
He thought of Reggie, ears back, sniffing the air behind the barn in the early evening. Stop. It was not a good idea to indulge his paranoia. He pulled his eyes away from the view out the window, and let them drift across the shadowy forms that filled his den.
A cloud shifted, and the yard was filled with soft silver moonlight. It crept past the glass and touched the edge of the sofa, shimmering along the raised stitches on the brown sweater. A different viewpoint, light from a different angle, perhaps a more open mind allowed Samuel to see the design at last. A tangle of roots drew in to become a textured trunk that reached out as branches. The pattern stopped abruptly with the last row of stitches, but Samuel could imagine the rest clearly. A dense crown of leaves would cap the tree where it reached to the sky, exactly like the curtain blocking Amanda's memories.