The last few weeks before Christmas were busy, but pleasant for Amelia. The world was snowier here than at home and she was often to be found sat in the courtyard, contentedly watching the world around her whiten and the students take full advantage of the opportunity to throw stuff at one another.
The week before the final Hogsmeade visit before Christmas, her fifth-years held an impromptu concert as part of their Muggle Studies assessment. Fred and George, as Amelia had expected, had very much been up to something, and their composition, 'An Epic Christmas Tale, part 1'* had many staff and students rolling around in mirth. For most of the following week Filius could be heard humming it, and the rumour among the staff was that he'd cornered the pair of them and forced them to write it down for him.
The Friday before the Hogsmeade visit, Amelia once again roped Argus into helping her show a film, this time making it a double feature: The Nightmare Before Christmas and, for the older students and staff 'Love Actually'. Hermione accused her of soppiness, but still complained at having to miss the second film.
She and Lupin had sat together, as they often did (which also hadn't escaped Hermione's notice), and she'd noticed Severus sitting alone a few seats away. She felt a pang of sympathy for him before reminding herself that he was now The Enemy, and she later allowed herself a quiet snigger when she overhead Sybill comparing herself and Severus to one of the couples in the film.
Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Filius, who was legendary for his enjoyment of the holiday, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real, fluttering fairies. Amelia spent a good few hours trying to figure out how he'd managed to coerce them into staying put for so long… Remus, for his part, advised her to give them a wide berth; he'd met fairies before. The students, meanwhile, were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays.
Amelia, enjoying herself, was engaged in a great deal of surreptitious knitting. She was working on a pair of fingerless gloves for Pomona when Remus nonchalantly enquired after her festive plans.
"Oh I suppose I'll stay here," she'd replied, deftly working her DPNs; it seemed to Remus that she was knitting on a small, angry hedgehog. "Hermione wants to stay and use the library, so I'll keep her company," she continued. "You?"
"Me? Oh, I'm staying," he said, colouring slightly and glad that Amelia had been concentrating on her knitting and had missed the brief expression of joy that had escaped across his features. "There's a warm bed, a library and hot meals here, what more could I want?" he joked, hoping that she couldn't tell how lucky that made him.
Before she could respond they were interrupted by a flutter of wings and a tawny owl dropped a letter into Amelia's knitting.
"Arse!" she swore, clearly unimpressed.
Remus helped her untangle herself (and the rather disgruntled owl) and watched as she packed her things.
"Aren't you going to open it?" he asked, curious; so far he'd not seen his friend receive much in the way of post, except in the form of notes from Hermione. He was intrigued at the life outside the castle that this letter hinted at.
"Nah, we'll be late. Besides, you were going to give me that tour." She slung her bag over one shoulder, stuffed the mysterious envelope into her pocket and took Lupin's arm. Together (and each privately quite happily) they set off for Hogsmeade.
0o0o0o0
The pair of them had a cheerful day, enjoying butterbeer and drams of spiced whiskey, reminiscing about their schooldays and generally avoiding the chattering hordes of students roaming around the village. The memories of this place were painful for Remus, but sharing them with Amelia was not only cathartic but even enjoyable. His good humour, and the new-found warmth that his friend had brought out in him, ebbed a little every time they caught sight of each new 'Wanted' poster they passed. Noticing this, Amelia took it upon herself to distract him and dragged him off on a ramble about the grounds, far from his old friend's screaming face.
After a long walk and a pleasant afternoon they headed back up to the castle to change into warmer clothes before dinner.
As they paused to let a few snow-fevered first years out of the clock tower, the wind brushed Amelia's hair across her face and she laughed. In that moment, with Amelia smiling down at him, eyes sparkling, skin pinked from the cold, he came to a sudden, glorious and terrifying realisation: he was falling for her, honestly and completely. There wasn't anywhere in the world that he'd rather be than where he was now, right beside Amelia with her laughing and joking and dragging him back out of his gloom. This revelation came as something of a shock to the usually controlled professor, and it wasn't until he had reached his rooms and changed that he actually began to think about this new turn of events. He caught his own eyes in the bathroom mirror; what was he thinking?
In the cold and wintry light of his rooms, the hope that this vibrant young woman could ever want to be with him seemed to vanish, fading along with the light. He surveyed himself sadly: scars criss-crossing his torso, the shadows still under his eyes from his last transformation, early silver flecks in his once brown hair. What could he offer a woman like Amelia? She was young and beautiful and smart and kind, while he was… decrepit. He sighed.
He'd never been a 'looker', even when he was younger, being almost invisible next to his two handsome best friends. He hadn't even been talkative, or funny, or roguish, or any of those other intangible qualities that appeared to enthral the fairer sex. He knew that he couldn't offer her protection either, having barely a penny to his name; he'd faced years of being turned away from his work every time a new employer had discovered his 'condition'. Years of just barely scraping by had left their mark. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair.
He'd no home to invite her into since his last landlord had turfed him out, and no possessions save his tattered clothes, worn books and battered suitcase. That was how Dumbledore had found him, living out of the same case and trying to scrape a living as a freelance writer in the darkest corner of a scummy city. He'd been so ashamed that the Headmaster had seen him like that, a former prefect living in the squalor of a cheap hotel room, but it hadn't seemed to bother Dumbledore; he'd taken the offer of work without a second thought, of course, and look where that had gotten him…
As if she would want to live with you, supplied his mind, accusingly.
Suddenly exhausted, he sat on the sofa before the unlit fire in his living room and mourned his life. So it was that half an hour later, having become curious as to the whereabouts of her friend, Amelia found him still sat in the dark, sulking.
"What's up?" she asked, letting the warm glow of candlelight filter through from the brightly lit corridor.
"It's nothing," he said, not wanting her to see him wallow. "No really, I'm just tired," he added on her snort of disbelief.
"Well if that's it…"
"Yeah, it is," he responded, possibly with more force than he'd intended.
She scrutinized him for a long moment before turning and heading for the door; finding that he wasn't following her she moved back towards him and extended her hand.
"Oh, come on misery guts, or we'll miss dinner."
Sighing, he stood and took her hand, then her arm as she gasped and stumbled. In that moment she had felt the depths of his sorrow, though she was unable to sense its cause. Concern crossed his lupine** features as she stared, open mouthed, at the breadth of her friend's despair.
"Amelia, wha-"
In one movement she wrapped her arms around him and held him in a tight hug; surprised, he held her back, not knowing the cause of her sudden closeness nor wanting it to cease. They stayed that way for some minutes, Lupin's head resting on hers, listening to one another's hearts beating. When they at last broke apart she kept a hold of his hand, and was about to ask what on earth it was that had made him so sad when Pomona burst into the room.
"Well come on you two!" clearly already one sherry down, the older witch assessed the situation with remarkable clarity. "Unless I'm interrupting anything?" she suggested, waggling her eyebrows in a truly disturbing and far too accurate manner.
Remus, already flustered by his friend's behaviour, coloured up to his eyebrows, which promptly disappeared into his fringe.
Amelia, still able to feel the knot in Remus's stomach, decided to rescue the situation.
"Oh, come off it Pomona, we're not Sybill and Severus!"
Pomona was rather enjoying her former student's discomfort, but she gracefully decided not to prolong it and ushered the two of them out of the gloom and into the cheery light of the corridor.
0o0o0o0
The feast was every bit as delicious as it always was and as the majority of the students and staff were heading home for Christmas Amelia spent most of her evening chatting to her colleagues. She kept an eye on Remus though, when the opportunity arose; she'd only come across the depth of despair she'd felt from him once before, among the rubble and dust of her uncle's former home. Worryingly, when she cast her gaze across the Gryffindor table her cousin and her two friends were missing. Choosing to brush this off for the time being she instead caught up with Remus as pudding was being cleared away.
"You were just so sad… it just took me by surprise," she told him quietly, in response to his unasked question.
"Oh," he said, helpfully. Then: "I guess I was remembering old friends… it always comes back to you at this time of year." She could tell he was lying, but had no idea why so she nodded, a little dubiously; she was about to question her friend further when she caught sight of Ron and Hermione who had just entered the Great Hall. They surveyed the lack of food with dismay and made to leave once more.
Amelia bid a hasty goodnight to her colleagues and followed the pair out of the Hall, catching up with them by the entrance to the Dungeons.
"Miss dinner?" she asked, adding: "Where's Harry?" on their nod of assent.
The look that the pair of them exchanged told her that whatever they were going to say next would not be true; if she didn't know her cousin as well as she did she might have thought that they'd been sneaking around, kissing behind statues.
"He wasn't feeling very well…" Ron began.
"…long day in the library…"
"…all that book dust, it's bad for the head…"
"…he went for an early night," finished Hermione, lamely. It did not escape Amelia's notice that Hermione was refusing to meet her eyes. Her expression must have indicated her disbelief as both students cringed slightly.
Amelia sighed; she wondered whether her excuses had ever seemed this transparent to her Mum and teachers. Some things just never changed, she guessed.
"Ron, as you've not eaten head down to the kitchens (it's behind the portrait of fruit – you have to tickle the giant pear) and have the elves deliver the three of you some food – better be to an empty classroom, I know what your brothers are like. If anyone gives you any bother tell them that you have my say so," she smiled a little at the look of incredulity that had crossed the boy's features. "Go on – I want a word with Hermione."
Simultaneously, their faces fell, but Ron hurried off with one last helpless look at Hermione.
"Mel –"
"Look, whatever it is that's happened, you clearly don't want me to know – I'm sure you can handle it; I trust you."
Hermione looked at her cousin for a moment before relaxing a little and letting out the breath she'd been holding.
"Thanks," she said.
Amelia shrugged, "This of course goes together with the assumption that if you needed to you'd come to me."
Hermione nodded.
"Good. Now that we've got that out of the way –" she saw Hermione's focus shift to somewhere behind her. Remus and Severus had apparently left the Great Hall together and were proceeding in uncomfortable silence. Lupin forced a smile at Amelia and her cousin before heading up the stairs. Severus stood for a moment watching the pair before continuing; he paused by the entrance to the dungeons and reluctantly turned to face Amelia's glare.
"Goodnight Amelia."
"Severus," she nodded, perturbed.
"Er – and you, Miss Granger…" he added.
"Sir," she responded, bewildered.
They watched him turn and swoosh away, mouths agape.
"Fair enough," Amelia said, turning back to the younger witch.
"I was just going to say that you can all come up tomorrow or Christmas if you'd like – I think I've figured out how to get the laptop to co-operate with the magic levels in my rooms. We could watch crappy movies and throw popcorn at the screen like we used to."
Hermione grinned, "That sounds great, I'll ask the boys."
"Might try to convince Remus to join us," Amelia added, thoughtfully. "He seems a bit down at the minute."
Hermione gave her an altogether too knowing look for a fourteen year old.
"You like him."
"Oh, come on Hermione."
"No really," she said, beaming, "you like him!"
"…"
"You smile more when he's around."
"…"
"And it's really good to see you smile again."
"…"
"It's quite sweet really."
"Hermione…"
"And he spends a lot of time at dinner looking at you for someone who isn't interested…"
"Hermione – wait, what? Does he?"
Hermione grinned in triumph.
"See! You do like him!"
Amelia sagged in defeat.
"Does he really, you know, watch me at dinner?"
Hermione nodded, "I think he was a little jealous of your friendship with Severus…"
"Oh."
"It really is good to see you happy again."
"It's been a rough couple of years for the pair of us," Amelia said.
Hermione nodded, a little sadly.
"And so what if I like him? Remus is a peach!"
The cousins grinned at one another.
"Anyway, you little rotter, I'll see you tomorrow. Evening-ish?"
"Yeah," Hermione nodded happily, "night Mel."
0o0
On the stairs above them Remus, who had (let's be honest) paused to eavesdrop found himself smiling, his earlier pessimism diminishing. As he hurried back to his rooms lest he be caught, he allowed this new feeling of hope to buoy him up once more.
He uncorked a fresh bottle of butterbeer in celebration and reached a book down from the shelf before settling down to read.
As he began, a worn photograph fell out of the pages and onto his lap. Sadly, he surveyed the smiling faces of four young boys and their fiery, red-headed friend – it must have been taken near to the end of their sixth-year as Lily didn't appear to be angry with James or Sirius. He went to replace it, but reconsidered and propped it up on the shelf where he could still see them fooling around in their frame.
The children in the picture waved out at him as they jostled one another and laughed at some private joke.
If only I'd known then, he thought, forlornly.
0o0
Somewhere above him, Amelia plugged her headphones in and hit 'shuffle' on her iPod for the first time in months; she smiled a little at her earlier conversation. She did like Remus, there was no disguising that from herself (or, apparently, Hermione), and if he liked her too… but things were so complicated. She hummed along to a song as she bustled around her room.
The dawn is breaking
A light shining through
You're barely waking
And I'm tangled up in you…
Yeah
She stopped by her mantelpiece, bottle of butterbeer in hand and gazed at an old family photo, taken a few years previously; she and Hermione were kneeling in front (her hair was still green from a recent trip to Sweden, she recalled), Hermione's Dad was at the back with his arms around his wife and sister. Amelia's Mum, not usually comfortable in photos, was grinning along with the rest.
Wiping the tears from her eyes she continued into her room and replaced the thoughts of her lost family with those that remained; Aunty Beatrice and Hermione.
She's such a tough girl, Amelia thought, but still worryingly quiet about her parents deaths… and stubborn in her insistence on keeping that from the school and her friends. It was as if saying it out loud would somehow make it more real. She was glad that she'd been offered a place here, if only to keep an eye on her young cousin.
Well I'm open, you're closed
Where I follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face
Light up again
Amelia put down her book, reached for a cushion and held it tightly as she thought about her bright young cousin. She appeared to be able to entirely separate the events of the past few summers from her life in the school; it was certainly better here than in Amelia's draughty old house. It had seemed so warm in her youth, but now it was cold, empty. She shook her head, trying to dislodge her tears…
Christmas had always been her family's favourite time of year.
Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the darkness of my mind
I somehow find you and I collide
At least she and Hermione could spend this one in the same building, and Aunty Bea would be at her church group outing… Amelia thought that the worst thing in the world would be to be completely alone at Christmas.
…and then there was Remus. He was such a lonely man for someone with such warmth. Once more, she remembered her earlier conversation with her cousin and, in the privacy of her own room, allowed herself to colour slightly.
He was certainly handsome despite his scars, albeit in a bookish kind of way; and kind, if a little quiet. But then it always seemed that somewhere just below the surface there was this bright, wicked sense of humour… he was certainly interesting. And she was pretty quiet and bookish, when she came to think about it, under all her bluster. The more she thought about it, the more it dawned upon her that she might be persuaded to fall for her wolfish companion…
Companion? Her mind quizzed, suddenly amused, would that he were!
She smiled at the thought of him before blowing out her candle.
I'm quiet you know
You make a first impression
I've found I'm scared to know
I'm always on your mind
0o0
In the Gryffindor Common Room, Hermione stood by the fire, oblivious to the throng of people who were enjoying the Weasley twins' end of term exuberance. Staring into the flames, she recalled a Christmas not too long before, when she and Amelia had been with their families at Aunty Bea's farm, playing card games in front of a different hearth while their relative roared with laughter at some thing or another. It had snowed that day, for the first time in ages, and Hermione had found herself missing her new school friends.
Amelia had read through her essays and declared her homework to be 'Much more fun than ours ever was!' and they'd laughed, oblivious to the fragility of the scene, which had seemed that it would come around every year without interruption. She'd been missing school and longing for the holiday to end, just so she could get back and solve the mystery of Nicholas Flamel and Professor Snape's odd behaviour.
She snorted, softly.
Not that his behaviour's that normal now, she thought. But then, Amelia had that sort of effect on people.
What she wouldn't give to be back at the farm now, eating gingerbread and ignoring her relatives argue about education as she listened to one of Amelia's 'Well there was this guy…****' stories.
Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find you and I collide
"'Mione?"
Lost in her thoughts, she'd completely forgotten about her concern for Harry and Ron's mission to extract him from the dormitories.
"Any luck?" she asked, though she hadn't really needed to; his expression said it all.
Ron shook his head, "I think he's pretending to sleep." He looked at her downcast expression. "Come on 'Mione," he said, suddenly full of gallantry. "Your supper awaits!" he announced, holding the Portrait of Sir Cadogan open for his friend ('Stand and fight, you scurvy cur!') so flamboyantly that Hermione had to laugh.
Smiling, she allowed herself to be led to a nearby empty classroom. As Ron pulled a seat out for her and the house elves brought in their private feast she reflected that perhaps she also had a family to treasure here at Hogwarts.
0o0
In the third-year boy's dormitory, Harry Potter opened his cabinet, pushed his books aside and quickly found what he was looking for – the leather bound photograph album that Hagrid had given him two years ago, which was full of wizard pictures of his mother and father. He sat down on his bead, drew the hangings around him, and started turning the pages, searching, until…
He stopped on a picture of his parents' wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his Dad. And there… that must be him. Their best man… Harry had never given him a thought before.
If he hadn't known it was the same person, he would never have guessed it was Black in this old photograph. His face wasn't sunken and waxy, but handsome, full of laughter. Had he already been working for Voldemort when this picture had been taken? Was he already planning the deaths of the two people next to him? Did he realise he was facing twelve years in Azkaban, twelve years that would make him unrecognisable?
But the Dementors don't affect him, Harry thought, staring into the handsome, laughing face. He doesn't have to hear my Mum screaming if they get too close –
Harry slammed the album shut, reached over and stuffed it back into his cabinet, took off his robes and glasses.
A hatred such as he'd never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though someone had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces. He could hear (though he had no idea what Black's voice might sound like) a low, excited mutter. 'It has happened, my Lord… the Potters have made me their Secret-Keeper…' And then came another voice, laughing shrilly, the same laugh that Harry heard inside his head whenever the Dementors drew near…
Don't stop here
I lost my place
I'm close behind
Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind…
0o0o0o0
*Originally by the Mudbloods, who have something of a flair for wit.
**Aha.
*** 'Collide' by Howie Day… credit to Miss RJ Lupin of youtube who made the fabulous video that first introduced me to this song.
****They tended to start badly and rapidly go down hill. Still, Amelia appeared to enjoy telling them as much as she'd enjoyed living them; vaguely she wondered whether this year would turn into another of them…