Harry Potter 1. The Prologue The Funeral

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Dear Readers,

This is a love story. This is a drama.This is a tragedy. This is the biggest thing I have ever tried to write!

This is marriage law story, ( loosely based) about Mr. Ollivander and an original character, If you are not interested in that sort of story, then, well...you have been warned. The entire reason behind the story is that I could not accept that one of my favorite HP characters might be a villain..without any explanation.

I am just a Harry Potter fan. I am in no way an expert on the universe, though I have tried to research all of the dates and names thoroughly. Please, if I get anything wrong, tell me so I can correct it.----

* * *

_**Amanda, light of my life,**_

_**Fate should have made you a gentleman's wife.**_

_**Amanda, light of my life,**_

_**Fate should have made you a gentleman's wife.---**_

_**You sheltered me from harm.**_

_**Kept me warm, kept me warm**_

_**You gave my life to me**_

_**Set me free, set me free**_

_**The finest years I ever knew**_

_**Were all the years I had with you**_

_**I would give anything I own,**_

_**Give up me life, my heart, my home.**_

_**I would give everything I own,**_

_**Just to have you back again.---**_

_**Met my darlin' in the springtime**_

_**When all the flowers were in bloom**_

_**And like the flowers our love blossomed**_

_**We married in the month of June**_

_**Our love was like a burning ember**_

_**It warmed us as a golden glow**_

_**We had sunshine in December**_

_**And threw our roses in the snow**_

_**Now God has taken my darlin'**_

_**And left me with a memory**_

_**A memory I will always cherish**_

_**Are these last words he said to me**_

_**Our love was like a burning ember**_

_**It warmed us as a golden glow**_

_**We had sunshine in December**_

_**And threw our roses in the snow**_

_**My darlin's buried on the hillside**_

_**Where all the wild spring flowers grow**_

_**And when winter snows start fallin'**_

_**On his grave I'll place a rose**_

_**Our love was like a burning ember**_

_**It warmed us as cold winds blow**_

_**We had sunshine in December**_

_**And threw our roses in the snow-----**_

* * *

_**--Prologue: A Funeral--**_

**A pearly grey mist was lingering sadly, clinging to the mossy headstones. Not heavy enough to be a concealing veil, it merely dimmed the outline of the small group of mourners, until, at first glance, they could easily be mistaken for ghosts themselves. There were perhaps, twenty five persons present, besides the grim, man presiding over the solemn ceremony. Most of these stood a respectful distance from the wet grave, huddled under black umbrellas, and consulting their watches from time to time. **

**Nearest to the grave, stood a lone woman. Petite. Her back was impossibly straight against the troubles of the world, yet her head was bowed low, and her shoulders shook with emotion. She wore a black dress; plain, stiff, and coarse. It's collar was puritanically high, the skirt unfashionably long. A matching hat, and veil obscured her hair and face, yet it was suggested that she might be lovely. Occasionally the wind would blow the veil back, and reveal glimpses of her pale skin. **

**Every so often she would lift a trembling hand to wipe away her tears with a lace-edged, black handkerchief. **

**Behind her, in a small clump, stood four women. Three of them were so similar in size and stance, that they seemed to be the same person repeated by some trick of the light. They stood formidably, shoulder to shoulder. **

**Behind them, the fourth woman was much shorter. Near to her stood two children, a boy and girl, each shivering with bowed heads. She rested a hand on the girl's shoulder. The boy held onto the skirt of the woman directly in front of him.**

**The last words of the service were uttered. Bitten off by the grim man with a static finality. **

**The silence that followed rang eerily across the dampened cemetery. Many of the mourners turned to leave with a attitude of relief. The woman in the veil, with what seemed to be a great effort, began walking slowly **_**toward**_** the gleaming mahogany casket, where she tenderly lay the coral rose that she had been clutching desperately to her breast. **

**It's vibrant orange hue was garish, almost indecent, yet it was with great tenderness that she placed it on the carved lid, allowing her fingers to caress the cold wood briefly. Smearing the beaded droplets of mist that had accumulated there. She bent suddenly from the waist, and pressed a kiss where her fingers had rested, lingering just long enough to whisper something that know one could hear. Not even the wind. **

**This done, she turned, swaying on her feet and and her children ran to her side. They led her back towards the waiting women, their pink faces innocent in the manner of children. Hoping both to comfort, and to be comforted. When they saw her tears, they compulsively began crying as well, and clung tightly to her hands. **

**A man stepped suddenly into their path. He had been watching the service from behind a sickly yew tree, leaning into it's patient trunk for support. **

**The lady halted, startled by his appearance. He was quite changed. His once dark hair was now greying and thinning. His skin had a pinched grey pallor, his once condescending blue eyes were now wide and wild, sunken into the bruise colored sockets. **

**Her veil remained down, but he saw that copious amounts of tears streamed down her cheeks, and dripped unbecomingly from her chin. He flinched with disgust at the sight of her, and the children at her side. **

**" Elias..." she said, sympathetically, and held out a hand to her stepson. He pulled away violently, and his sour expression turned to a frown laced with hatred. When he spoke, his voice was cracked and accusing. **

**" It did you no good, **_**Amanda." **_**hissed. " Father left me everything. He's dead, and you get nothing. Do you **_**hear **_**me?" **

**Amanda felt the strong hand of her own mother suddenly resting on her back, and she swallowed the hysterical tears that threatened to spill over. A twisting stab of agony wrenched through her stomach, and she wanted to be ill. **

**But it was Elias that sank to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping, his face red and perspiring even in the chill. She reached for him, but he slapped her hand back. **

**" Leave me alone! You've done enough!"**

**" What **_**have**_** I ever done to you, Elias? " she asked coldly. **

**" This." he said, indicating the cemetery. Another spasm of pain struck him, and he had to lower his forehead to the ground at her feet. **

**She resisted the sudden urge to kick him.**

**" The house is yours. You can move in tonight if you please." she said, bitingly. " But he left the shops to Lionel, and so help me, if I **_**ever **_**see you so much as look in the window of one, I'll have you arrested. You're cordially invited to never set foot near either place, nor to ever speak to any of us again. Good day." **

**She stepped around him, flipping her skirt far away so that it wouldn't accidentally touch him as she passed.**

**He groaned. **

**" Am...Amanda?"**

**She paused, but did not turn.**

**" Amanda...are you...going to be...all right?" he forced the words out as though they had sharp edges. **

**There was a pause.**

**" No, Elias**_**. I'll**_** never be ' all right' again. " she answered, and began to walk on. " Will you?"**

**" Where will you go? I...don't want you begging from me."**

**" Perhaps you forget, Elias...I came with my **_**own**_** inheritance. Maybe I should be concerned about you begging at **_**my**_** door. " when she walked again, she only increased her speed, ignoring him behind her, calling her name. **

**It grieved her terribly that it had to be this way. And it grieved her even more that she had to desecrate this day, this place, with such harsh words and anger. Looking briefly to the marbled grey sky, she pleaded silently.**

**Forgive me. Forgive me.**

* * *

Amanda--Don Williams

Everything I own--Bread

Roses in the Snow--Emmylou Harris

* * *

**Author's Note--** I apologize on the front end for:

**The length of the story:**

I know it has some rambling dialogue, and perhaps too many original characters.

**The language:**

I get corrected often on grammar, syntax, and colloquialisms. I am Southern, and yes, the terms creep into my writing. Most of the writing style is going to sound odd because most of the reading I do is from very old novels. I think my most modern influence is F. Scott Fitzgerald. Much of the conflicting styles is done on purpose to complement the storyline. I wanted it to sound like D.H. Lawrence, Jane Austen, and J.K Rowlings had a brainchild together. It might be surreal.

I also apologize for any mistakes I might make in regards to British culture/speech/etiquette etc.

If it has a glaring error, please PM me and I'll see if it was intentional or not. Thanks.

**The characters:**

There are lots, and I know I don't do a perfect job of balancing them out with the plot. But they sure are fun to write, and I think one or two of them are rather fun to read. if you are expecting to see a lot of the popular canon HP characters, such as Harry, Hermione, Draco, Ron, Snape, or Dumbledore-- you might be disappointed. This is not a story about Hogwarts, and definitely not about moody teenagers saving the world. If you want that kind of story, then well...you have been warned.

**The Plot:**

Well...I am a better character writer than a plot writer I guess. Don't expect it to be breathtaking. The basic summary is that a young American Muggle, with no magic, discovers that her mother is part of the Wizarding World. This is the story of how she became a part of that world herself, and how closely she is tied in with the world of Harry Potter. And like I hinted above...it is mostly about love and sacrifice.

* * *

**_A special mention to:_**

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The book "Cold Sassy Tree" -by Olive Ann Burns. I was just about to give this idea up completely, thinking no one would want to read it, when someone lent me that book. I was inspired to continue.

The song "Amanda", by Don Williams.

Guillermo Del Toro and his Umbrellas

Charlotte Bronte

My Betas

Thanks to anyone who reads this story.

Note: When the story is completed, an unedited NC-17 version will be availible by Private Message. Just ask!

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	2. Chapter 2 The Characters

**Cast of Characters**

**Amanda Garret-Ollivander**-The main character. A magic-less heroine.

**Estella ( Stella) Rookwood-Garrett**-Amanda's mother. Eloped from England to marry an American Muggle when she was nineteen.

**Winter Rookwood**-Estella's mother.

**Aunt Eloise**-Winter's sister, head of the Rookwood familly, a respected,but poorer Pureblood family.

**Edward Ollivander**-The finest wandmaker in London. An old friend of Eloise and Winter.

**Agnes-**Eloise's niece,orphaned daughter of Wilemina Rookwood.

**Demogene-**Agne's sister

**Elias Blackmoor**-Ollivander's estranged son.

**Dinah Blackmoor**-Elias' mother

**Rebecca Blackmoor**-Dinah's sister

**Amele-**The seamstress, Amanda's friend

**Jean-Paul-**Amele's husband

**Giles Barkwater-**Ex-soldier, auror, friend and sometimes chess-partner to Edward

**Polly- **a maid

**Patsy**-a maid

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_**Amanda's Suitors:**_

**Martin Ashwell-**Son of Thorpe Ashwell, a Pureblood.

**Cosmo Wentwart-**Son of sensation author, Brigham Wentwart

**Philo Fenwicke-**An intellectual and artist.

**Jan Kynzik-**Photographer for the Daily Prophet

**----------------------------------------------**

_**Eloise's circle of friends-**_

**Junius Lovegood-**Magazine editor.

**Charles Bumpp-**Ministry official

**Lodric Badger-**Cauldron merchant

**Evangeline Badger-**Lodric's daughter

**Gladys Whetstone-**an artist

**Desmond Dooley-**Son of broom inventor, Titus Dooley

**Gottfried Inkerbach-**Author

**Francy Suttlecomb**-An explorer/adventurer. Very eccentric.

**---------------------------------**

**Amele's Children--**

**Jules**

**Arden**

**Franchot**

**Renee**

**Wellis**

**Leon**

**Paulette**

**Baudelaire**

**Aule**

**---------------------------**

**The Deceased Rookwood sisters:**

**Wilemina Rookwood-Youngest of Eloise's sisters. Killed by a death Eater. **

**Leda Rookwood- Death by goblin pox **

**Sarai Rookwood-Broom Crash **

**Melodia Rookwood-Potions overdose**

**Gretel Rookwood-Pneumonia**

**----------------------**

**Miscellaneous characters:**

**Randolph Bottle-**Eloise's first husband

**Erasmus Cornelius-**Eloise's second husband

**Priam Bartle-Eloise's **third husband

**Everett September- **Winter's husband

**Petrie Amblere-**Eloise's duelling instructor

**Miles Bangle-**Demogene's deceased husband

**Earnest Williword-**Agnes' husband

**Bernice Willliword-**Agnes' daughter

**Simon Williword-**Agnes' son

**J.H. Hannigan-**Amanda's first love

**Healer Withersmith-**The emergency healer at St. Mungo's. A prig.

**Healer Abacus Thorogood-**Amanda's Healer

**Pernicia Thorogood-**Abacus' assistant

**Healer Penny-kind healer**

**Adelfried Umbridge-**Dolores Umbridge's brother. A fanatical bigot.

**Rogero September-**Estella's institutionalized brother

**Princeton Garrett-**Amanda's father. Died of heart failure in 1988.

**Hugh Garrett-**Princeton's brother

**Lorraine Haimes-**Princeton's sister

**Grandmother Garrett-**Princeton's mother.

**Avery- **Martin's companion

**Merle Monteclaire-**Ministry official

**Phillip Wood**-Patsy's beau

**------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_**Canon Characters: ( characters who are featured)**_

_**Mr. Ollivander**_

**Arthur Weasley**

**Molly Weasley**

**Neville Longbottom**

**Alastor Moody**

**Gilderoy Lockhart**

**Remus Lupin**

**Severus Snape**

**Hermione Granger**

**Voldemort**

**Luna Lovegood**

**Xenophilius Lovegood**


	3. Chapter 3 Eloise

_Tale as old as time_

_True as it can be_

_Barely even friends_

_Then somebody bends_

_Unexpectedly_

_Just a little change_

_Small to say the least_

_Both a little scared_

_Neither one prepared_

_Beauty and the Beast_

_Ever just the same_

_Ever a surprise_

_Ever as before_

_Ever just as sure_

_As the sun will rise_

_Tale as old as time_

_Tune as old as song_

_Bittersweet and strange_

_Finding you can change_

_Learning you were wrong_

_Certain as the sun_

_Rising in the east_

_Tale as old as time_

_Song as old as rhyme_

_Beauty and the Beast_

_Tale as old as time_

_Song as old as rhyme_

_Beauty and the Beast---_

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--Eloise--

1988

Estella Rookwood-Garrett was rather old fashioned when it came to methods of transportation. Twenty years ago, ( or even fifteen years ago), she would have simply Apparated herself to England. Over the years, living as a Muggle, she had grown out of practice.

Two weeks ago, her husband of nearly twenty-five years, Princeton Garrett, had passed away due to failure of his heart. He had left her with a considerable amount of debt, and she had been _just _able to satiate the more carnivorous of their bill collectors by wringing dry her own savings account.

There had been just enough left, after they had sold the most superfluous of their possessions, to have Princeton discreetly cremated, and placed in a small wooden box.

Their house, with it's newly remodeled bath, expensive wallpaper and bloodcurdling third mortgage, she had gladly deeded over to Princeton's brother, Hugh, in return for passage for two on the next vessel audacious enough to call itself a watercraft.

Hugh Garrett, the third of the Garret sons, had weighed the price of two tickets against the burden of supporting his brother's family; and had come to the gracious decision to grant Estella's wish.

He would be free of his British sister-in-law and her slightly strange, orange-haired daughter. Best of all, he would be able to call himself master of the last remaining piece of the Garret family ' plantation' ; a slightly marshy ten acres and a slightly sideways colonial style house.

Estella, though she would rue the loss of the home she and Princeton had worked so hard to keep together, was ecstatic about the prospect of a journey.

She was returning to England. To her _home_. To the Wizarding world she had so impetuously left as a teenager, and to her maiden name. Rookwood. A name well respected in the same world where a person was at liberties to use charms for household work, and brooms for travel.

In her company, would be her daughter; the only child of a long and passionate marriage to Princeton, the red-haired Muggle from Louisiana.

" The Greatest of Two Evils" that was what Aunt Eloise had called him. ( she eventually warmed to him...or at least, she did send him a fruitcake once.)

This daughter, the memorial of her parent's elopement, was christened Mary Amanda Garret.

They called her Amanda, or even Amy, when she was sweet. She was born without magic, which had been both a relief, and a disappointment to Estella. She thanked the stars everyday of Amanda's childhood, that the girl didn't have anything to hide, and could live and behave like a normal girl.

The Garrets were traditional people, and thought a daughter of their line should follow plantation rules, though that plantation had long ago, through ruthless whittling and divvying, been reduced to no more than a few small hobby farms, the smallest of which was gifted to Princeton and his British bride.

Amanda had been given riding lessons, french lessons, and dancing lessons. She had been to finishing school, and had private tutors for math. She had spent long tedious hours at the piano, and been made to learn entire poems by heart.

Her grandmother Garrett had personally seen to it that Amanda was taught to sew, cook, manage a household and garden, and develop a well rounded appreciation for art, literature, poetry, and the collecting of antiques.

Estella was sure that it would have been very difficult for Amanda to hide '' the Gift'' away all these years from Grandmother Garret. And if Grandmother Garret _had_ learned of it...well, she would have probably swooned.

Now that they were going back to England though, Estella fretted. Her own mother, Winter Rookwood, knew about Amanda's shortcoming, from one of Estella's many missives.

But Eloise...oh what would Aunt Eloise say?

Estella could well imagine what Eloise would say. She saw her salty aunt, Winter's eldest sister, with her eccentric gown of purple, and her soft grey hair coiled precariously over her ears.

" Stella..." she would say. " Oh Stella, oh Stella." She would tsk. Actually _tsk_ at her!

And Eloise had every right to tsk, because she was the eldest of the Rookwood sisters, of which there had once been seven.

Now only Eloise and Winter remained, and Eloise held the family fortune. _Several _family fortunes, actually, as she had been married three times, and through sheer determination had managed to survive all three men, including Priam, who had been seventeen years her junior.

Through successful widowhood, and general good management, she had succeeded over the years into coaxing several small sums into an impressive amount of wealth, though she would still have to stand on tiptoe and stretch to reach the level that constituted rich, in the Wizarding world. _She_ considered herself to be 'comfortable '.

Eloise was growing older though. Even though Witches and Wizards could easily live to be three hundred, ( her own mother lived to be _180!_), she thought it would be in the best interest of her peace of mind if she promoted one of her relatives to position of ' heir'. A close examination of her nearest and dearest was a depressing endeavor, and she was despairing of ever trusting one of them with her grocery list, let alone her money, when Winter had received news of Estella's new widowhood.

So Princeton had passed on, had he? Well, that was a _shame_. But life was full of shames, and whereas some were unavoidable, there were many others that could be prevented. Eloise happened to believe that the fact she had to eventually die and hand over her hard won, earthly treasures was a _Great Shame_.

The possibility that those earthly treasures could fall into the _Wrong Hands_, was an even _Greater Shame_, but one that as far as she could see, was _Preventable_.

And she was seeing Estella's daughter Amanda as just the means of preventing that horrible shame.

But first, she had to meet the girl. What was she like? One was always hearing tales about Americans, especially _Muggle _Americans...but one could never place too much store in mere tales. One _had_ to see for one's self; and therefore, she wasted not a single minute, but sat right down at her ebony writing desk, and wrote a two page letter on her trademark blue vellum, with it's gold stamped monogram in the corner.

Her words were straight-forward, her letters formed in bold strokes of blue ink, right down to the determined dot over her signature. Anyone who read a letter penned by Eloise, knew that she was woman to be reckoned with. She was smart, courageous, and accustomed to arranging the world to suit her own needs and ideals.

" _Dearest Stella,_

She wrote, as easily as though she wrote to her daily.

_'' Let me begin by saying I want to offer my condolences to yourself and your daughter Amanda, during this, your time of grief. I won't elaborate on the subject though, because I have been there before, and no mortal words could possibly ease the suffering. _

_I'll get straight to business however, so that your mother cannot accuse me of being devious, which she will anyway, as soon as she learns about this letter. _

_I want you and your daughter Amanda to return to England..."_

* * *

Tale as Old Time--Alan Menken/Howard Ashman_  
_


	4. Chapter 4 Snegourka

I can see you turn away  
When I ask what for  
You say it isn't anything  
But I'm not sure

Somethin' underneath the skin  
Won't let you be  
And you try to keep it in  
But I can see

The woman before me  
Must have been hard on you  
'Cause that hurt in your eyes  
I never put you through  
Sometimes, I think  
You must be talking to  
The woman before me and you

* * *

--Snegourka--

Amanda had known since her earliest childhood that there was something special about her mother. Something that had no name, and that she herself did not possess.

Her mother never spoke of it, and therefore, Amanda instinctively never asked about it. Over the years she had nearly forgotten the unusual things that used to happen when Estella was angry, or excited. The feverish memory of her mother curing her broken leg by waving a wooden stick, must have been nothing more than a her imagination.

She had never met any of her ' over there' family, as her Garrett relations called Estella's people. But every Christmas, there were gifts from her Grandmother Winter, and her Aunt Eloise.

Estella had oil portraits of both women hanging on her bedroom wall. Both faces had high, elegant cheekbones, and sharp straight noses. Their dark hair was pinned into elaborate hairstyles, and they gazed at the artist with flirtatious, yet mocking dark eyes.

The portraits had been painted when both women were quite young, and to Amanda's eyes, it might as well have been the same woman in each picture, so similar were they in appearance.

And the one that was Winter, her grandmother, could just as easily been Estella, except that Estella kept her hair cut short, and wore it most usually in a simple tail behind her neck.

Amanda looked like none of these women, except for her sharp chin. Her face was of a smooth, heart shape, with no discernible cheekbones. Her eyes were not so large, her skin not nearly so smooth.

She had very straight hair, and it's shade was nothing more or less than orange. Some people were generous enough to describe it as ' strawberry blonde', or even 'copper'.

But she saw it as orange, the same as the flowers that grew on the trumpet vines along the fences. It was the very same color as her father's hair, and just like Princeton, she had a faint dusting of pale golden freckles across her nose, despite Grandmother's rigid regimen of buttermilk baths. The merciless Louisiana sun was to blame for these, though she had never in her life been beneath it without a hat or umbrella.

Sometimes she liked to lie out under the great oak tree, safely ensconced in shadow, and imagine what it must be like in England. She had always felt a little out of place in her own world, though she loved her home dearly.

It was nothing she could describe, merely a feeling within herself that she was out of place and time. Because of this, she generally avoided unnecessary socializing at every opportunity, preferring to keep to herself and her own quiet pursuits.

Her life was composed of what she had to do, and what she did for herself, and the unspoken assumption that one day she would marry one of the county's eligible bachelors and have children, a house, and if she wanted, a teaching position at the same school that had taught her.

However, all of this pre-destination changed with the coming of the owl.

The moment that the owl appeared at the kitchen window, it's gentle knocking on the frosted panes was as good as a solid blow to deflect Amanda's life from it's assumed course.

As she regarded it, she felt an awakening.

It was no ordinary owl. It wore a lace collar, and a silver filigreed silver cylinder held a tightly rolled scroll of paper. Everything she had forgotten about her mother not only returned to her memory, but seemed to make perfect sense, and she hurried it inside before anyone could see it.

She had seen this owl once before, on Christmas eve.

Amanda had been five, and should have been sleeping. But instead, she had crept up to the garret window, where, nestled in her blanket she intended to keep vigil until she sighted the approach of Father Christmas. The night had grown longer and longer, and she had eventually drowsed, only managing to force her eyes open occasionally.

The last time she had peeked out of the window, she had seen a white owl, burdened with a silver, lumpy sack, winging it's way across the night sky toward the house. By pressing her sleepy face to the window, she had just been able to see her mother below on the veranda step, catching the bird on her arm, and untying the bag.

The next morning, Amanda had been in her own bed. Downstairs, the stockings bulged, and the tree was stuffed with gifts. She had told her mother that she dreamed Father Christmas was tiny, and had ridden a snowy owl, instead of a sleigh. Estella had laughed it off, and fed her candy, pressing gift after gift into her young hands.

Now she clearly understood that it had been no dream.

That very same owl was now standing on the counter; haughty, magnificent, with glossy white feathers, and large gold eyes.

" Mother?" she called, keeping a wary eye on their 'guest'.

Estella's grief had been sobered by the sheer desperation of their recent plummet into debt, and now, as so often this week, she sat rubbing her face while sorting through bills and receipts. She had a mournful hopeless expression as she looked to her daughter, and to the newcomer. Suddenly her face brightened.

Eloise's owl!

Snegourka had brought many parcels and letters to Estella over the years, but only at night. Snegourka understood, in only the way magical animals could, that the utmost discretion must be used around Muggles. Now she was arrived in broad daylight, her leg extended impatiently, her expression mimicking her owner's imperious stare. Eloise hurried to retrieve her burden.

After the letter was removed, Snegourka settled herself to wait; stating through this gesture that she absolutely would not leave until a suitable reply was composed.

" Amanda...would you find some bread and jam for Snegourka?" Estella asked, breaking the seal on the parchment. " She's come all the way from England, and must be very hungry."

England!

The thought titillated Amanda's imagination as she searched the kitchen for some jam. She found just a tablespoon in the bottom of the jar, spread it dutifully on the end of a bread loaf, and offered it gingerly to the bird. Snegourka, after considering the fun of biting her fingers, decided to be magnanimous, and take the food gently.

" This is from Aunt Eloise." Estella stated, as Amanda was longing to stroke the lovely white feathers on the owl's plump breast.

The seldom discussed but very important Aunt Eloise, Amanda thought. How curious.

' She has invited us to visit her."

" In England?"

" Yes. I have to admit, this is an unexpected blessing to me Amanda. I was just wondering what we were going to do with ourselves. How would you feel abut going to England?"

" Oh, I'd love it." she answered, a thrill in her heart. Guiltily she suppressed the elation. Her father had just died, and she and her mother were in dire straights. This was not a vacation.

" I want you to understand...I don't believe we would be returning. From Eloise's undertone, not only do I suspect that she is insisting, rather than suggesting, but I believe she means for this to be a permanent situation."

" Permanent." Amanda played with that possibility in her mind. Did she really want to leave her home, the familiar trees, the manners she was accustomed to? She calculated the alternatives. If her mother left, she herself would know very few people, aside from her uncles and aunt, and none of them were going to welcome her. She would have to go to work, and try to find her own way.

Her mind was suddenly filled with sharp, colorful images of autumns and springs, of rivers and flowers, of faces she knew, and landmarks she had known since her earliest memory. How could she be homesick so soon, without having even left yet? The feeling warred with her desire to see England.

Estella misunderstood the pinched expression, and thought back to her suspicions that Amanda had a secret love, that had not yet been realized.

She smiled sympathetically.

" Perhaps we should discuss this more completely. I believe there are some things you need to know, now...now that your father...well, now that we might be returning to my family. " she bit her lip. Then she turned to face the owl.

" Snegourka, excuse a moment please. We'll have Eloise's reply directly." she ushered Amanda from the kitchen and into the small living room. Amanda was struck again by a homesickness. This room was where she had learned to write her name, where she had first read Jane Eyre, where she had roasted thousands of marshmallows and fed them to her laughing father.

" I'm sure that you remember, when you were a little girl, that time I was angry at your Aunt Lorraine?"

Amanda had a vague memory of her Estella and Lorraine, her father's sister, arguing in the kitchen at Christmas.

Something had happened, something had broken.

No, something had exploded!. There was blue glass all over the floor, and Estella told her not to come in because she might cut her bare feet. Lorraine was crying.

" Your blue dishes! Are you talking about when she broke them?" Amanda ventured.

" No...You see, I broke them. I was so angry at Lorraine for...well, it was for some petty argument at the time. Now I can control such things, but at that time, I hadn't had much practice at...restraint. "

" What happened? You didn't throw them, they broke all at once. I remember the sound.Did you you push her into them?"

" I blew them up, to be perfectly frank. I was very mad, and instead of slapping Lorraine, I used the energy to blow up the dishes."

" You mean...with your mind?"

" Yes...or rather, with magic."

" Magic! " Amanda gave a soft laugh. " There really isn't such a thing as magic, mother. Things like that happen all the time. It comes from the mind. Psychic powers, is what they call it. If you read a book on-"

" I will concede that a certain degree of it is due to the powers of the mind. However, Amanda...there is such a thing as magic. And Witches, and Wizards."

Estella took a cigarette from her silver case and showed it to Amanda, who was regarding her mother with thinly veiled skepticism.

" Do you know how we light these?"

Amanda shook her head, regarding her mother warily. She had always seen her use the matching silver lighter, an anniversary gift from Princeton. A lighter was no secret. Nor was it magic.

Estella gave a tight smile, and gave the cigarette a snappy little shake, as though she were extinguishing a match. The end flamed up brightly, causing Amanda to give a slight jump, and almost smile with the delight of any child witnessing legerdemain.

Uncle Hugh had also made quarters disappear and reappear from behind her ears. It was simply sleight of hand. Not magic. Amanda's face fell, slightly.

Estella saw this and laughed.

" Does your Uncle Hugh know this trick? Accio wand!" a long stick of wood suddenly flew from the top of the bookcase, into Estella's hand.

" Wandless magic was my forte. I won many house points for my ability and control. " she said, laying the cigarette into the ashtray. " I can see what you are thinking. Lighting the cigarette was a party trick, summoning my wand was telekinesis. I never thought it would be so hard to convince you! I suppose I'll have to go a bit further."

She pointed the wand at the ashtray, and incanted strange Latin sounding words. First she sprayed the smoldering cigarette with a spray of pink water. Then she transformed the ashtray into a cup. Next, she turned it into a statue, then a book. A breeze from her wand ruffled the pages.

Amanda's eyes widened, and Estella finished her demonstration by transforming the book into a white kitten with large imploring blue eyes.

" Touch it, it's very real."

Amanda hesitantly reached for the cat, and it rubbed against her hand, purring loudly.

" Petrificus totalus." Estella intoned, and the cat gave a slight jerk and stiffened. With a flick of her empty hand, it turned into an apple, with four furry legs, then again, an ashtray.

" There is more. So much more. We have our own world, Amanda, and it can be dangerous place, but a wonderful, beautiful place as well. What do you think?"

" I can't quite believe it. " Amanda admitted carefully. "Can Aunt Eloise do this as well?"

" Yes. As can your Grandmother Winter. We all do. I have used it many times over the years, only I couldn't let anyone know."

" Is it wrong?"

" No, just misunderstood. Your father knew what I was, but of course, I could never tell his family. When Lorraine saw me break the dishes, I had to cast a memory charm on her, to make her forget. That is how we protect ourselves."

" Wherever there is protection, there is danger first." Amanda stated.

" There is always danger. You are in danger right now. You have been all of your life. So have I. There is the danger of death, of accidents, of illness...and also because Muggles, that is people who aren't Witches or Wizards, are sometimes hated and targeted by wizards."

" Why?"

" Prejudice runs both ways. Muggles believe Wizards to be freaks, and Wizards believe Muggles to be inferior. Some Wizards. Some are much more open-minded, and most simply have nothing to do with Muggles one way or the other."

Amanda sat quietly for a moment, absorbing this news. She wasn't as surprised or disbelieving as she should have been. The feeling from earlier had returned. The nagging sensation that she had known all along that there was Something Else.

Everything was actually beginning to make more sense now, instead of less, and the tiny part of her that had always dreamed about England and a life not her own, suddenly overwhelmed her with the desire to go. Now, without packing, without talking further. It was suddenly a craving, the call of the sirens to her ears. She even stood before she could stop herself.

" Now, Amanda, I have been perfectly honest with you. And will be even further. You may ask me anything. However, I have to first request that you reciprocate, and tell me something. I think it's important before we make any plans."

" What is that, mother?" she asked, distractedly.

" Tell me about... J.H. Hannigan."

Taken off guard by her mother's request, Amanda could only stare placidly a moment, as the fantasy of her mother's secret world was dispelled by her own paltry reality.

Who was J.H. Hannigan? For a bitter moment, she had forgotten about him, but now that he had resurfaced, his name pricked her mind.

" What should I tell you about him?" she asked, seating herself once more.

" Tell me about your feelings for him, and more importantly...his feelings for you."

Amanda opened her mouth instinctively to lie. Not because she had anything to hide, but because the entire memory of Hannigan embarrassed her, and she was still hurt and angry.

Thinking better, she sighed, and began a trim narrative.

Her mother listened quietly, and without expression as she told how she had first seen him at Uncle Hugh's. He had ridden his new stallion down to Hugh's. A tall, magnificent bay stallion that he had purchased in Kentucky, and had been delivered by train.

Nearly everyone had admired the blooded animal, making predictions. Hannigan and his father had made their money for years, breeding quality horses for quality pursuits. They had run into a bit of a dry spell though, and this horse was another in a long line of hopefuls.

This horse was guaranteed to breed winners though, and the moment Amanda first saw the master, she thought that was true of him as well. Like his horses, Hannigan was tall and proud. From his immaculate suits, to his professional manicure, he was obviously someone who demanded a certain amount of recognition.

Unlike his father and grandfather before him, J.H. chose not to contribute any physical labor to the family business. He was the mind, the face and the visionary; the person who rode the stallion to the neighbor's house to display his dominance, skill, and prosperity.

It was one of those strange quirks of Nature, that She had created J.H. nearly perfect, with gleaming black hair, white, even teeth, a tall straight body, but at the last minute twisted his left leg severely, a birth defect that doctors and surgeries had only somewhat corrected.

When he was seated, or standing still, a person would never notice it, but when he walked, it was with a swaying limp that accentuated the ungainly curve in his knee. Despite his numerous attributes, he had settled his mind on this single flaw, and worried it over and over in his heart until it was sore point. It's existence festered in his mind, rotting away slowly, and taking with it all that could be good about him.

Amanda had not known about this. When she saw him, he was astride the bay, one fist resting on a hip, the other lightly holding the reins at rest, as he passed a few pleasantries with Uncle Hugh. Hugh's wife, Sarah, had sent Amanda out to invite the men to lemonade on the porch, and Amanda had been barely able to get the words out under Hannigan's flirtatious scrutiny.

J.H. Hannigan was desired by a great many females, but he chose to pick thorough them moodily. He wanted a woman that was just as beautiful as the race horses being pampered in his stables. A lean, leggy woman with spirit and passion. But then, he couldn't tolerate the idea of a woman more perfect than himself. The type he wanted, and the type he courted were two different breeds entirely.

Amanda had unsuspectingly crossed his path, and her only crimes were in unabashedly thinking him beautiful, and being almost pretty herself. She had always been very self-conscious, and very shy, and this was her first experience with romance. When he had cornered her later and hurriedly whispered a few pretty words to her, she had been too stunned to speak.

He had remedied this by sending her notes. Over the next few weeks, he played the perfect suitor. The perfect secret suitor at least. He hadn't dared to face Princeton, who had no respect for anyone he considered to be as rakish as J.H. Hannigan. Amanda overheard her father and Uncle talking about that " Northern woman" that J.H.'s father had married. They speculated that she was the reason for his lameness of body, soul and mind.

Amanda concerned about her father's opinion, had made her hesitant about accepting Hannigan's flirtations any further. He eventually softened Amanda with his notes, with poems, with flattery. Then, he arranged an assignation. He had intended to soften her a little further, preferably in the tall grass under the moon and stars, then demand that she marry him. With luck, she would be married and under his possession before she ever discovered his handicap.

Not that he would allow her to comment on it. If she ever did, she would be incredibly sorry.

The night had not gone as planned. Amanda had went, yes, and waited under the oak tree. He was late in arriving, since he lived further away, and had chosen to ride the stallion.. Unfortunately, the horse spooked at the sight of Amanda appearing from behind the tree, and had thrown Hannigan unceremoniously to the dirt road. Amanda had helped him to his feet, and noticing his limp, mistakenly thought it was due to he fall. When she had offered to call the doctor, he had barely restrained his temper, and he had chided her coldly.

Afterwards, he wasn't in the mood to woo her. The wind, the moon, the whisper of leaves and grass, brought out a dark melancholia. He hadn't even been angry, merely depressed, and after an awkward silence, he excused himself, saying he would meet her again the next evening. Then he had just limped away into the darkness to find his horse.

Amanda returned the next evening. And the next. Only after a week, when her mother noticed how exhausted and pale she had become from her sleepless nights, did she forgo the nightly excursion, hoping that he would forgive her.

Over dinner three weeks later, she froze as her she heard her father speak Hannigan's name once more. He had heard it from Mann MacDougall that the young Hannigan had returned from New Orleans yesterday.

He had been in New Orleans? What did that mean?

She did not have long to wonder. That evening, her mother's friend, Marie, had stopped by for cordial and gossip, and had brought the newest tidbit from the social buffet.

J.H. Hannigan was engaged!

He had told her so himself, just that afternoon, when she had met him outside the courthouse.

For the very briefest of moments, Amanda had let herself imagine, that it was she that he was referring to, and that he had come back, and would ride any moment up the drive and claim her. She knew though that it was not to be.

That Sunday she had a glimpse of his fiancee; a bony, yet exotically colored young woman, who promised to always do and be everything just one step behind Hannigan himself.

That bit of business had occurred several months ago, and he still hadn't married the girl, though everyone knew they lived together in his father's guest house. What the better people were calling a ' right scandal', and because of this, for a long time a secret part of Amanda hoped that he was still thinking of her, and might one day return.

As she finished telling most of this to her mother, adding she had not seen nor spoken to him since that Sunday, Estella frowned thoughtfully. Her opinion of Hannigan was that he was simply a selfish cad. However he had given her daughter an opportunity to learn an important lesson about life and love. No real harm had come from it. Amanda had been in love with the type of person he had promised to be, not the person he was

" I am very sorry it had to be that way." Estella said eventually. " I was so fortunate in finding your father."

" Yes. But I've decided that I have no need for love." Amanda said " I mean, romantic love. I still love people, but I don't think I need to be loved by anyone. Just you, mama." she smiled. In fact, she had all but sworn to never allow herself again to be taken in by the promise of love, the flatteries of men, or false beauty. It would be easy for her right now, just to walk away and never think of Hannigan again.

" They've called me old maid, often enough, " she thought to herself." Well, let me be one. I'll live alone one day in a small cottage, and I'll have a cat on my hearth. I'll crochet pretty things for people, and have tea and grow herbs in the window boxes. And I'll always wear dresses. Not ugly, shapeless skirts or dresses, but real dresses, with trims, and collars and lace." she imagined herself walking to some small town, wearing a large straw hat, it's ribbons coordinating with the seasons. She would sell eggs, and buy pretty floral paper to write her letters on.

" Mother? If we go to England...what will we do? Are their jobs for these magical persons to work?"

" Many of the same jobs that Muggles work. But don't worry about that just yet. Eloise is offering to take care of us, and she would consider it rude if we didn't allow her to do so for awhile. Isn't it strange now, how I am suddenly missing them? My mother, and Aunt? I wonder what Agnes looks like now? And if Demogene outgrew her stutter?"

" Who are Agnes and Demogene?"

" My cousins. Oh, there are many cousins, but I don't know if they are all on speaking terms. And my brother Rogero. I wonder how he is now?If he ever- Oh Amanda...I think I have done you a great injustice by keeping you here. I should have taken you on visits, but I was so happy.Time just slipped past me, I suppose. So fast."

" Mother? Let's go. Write Aunt Eloise and tell her we will come. We could leave tonight!" Amanda exclaimed, excited. She had aunts, and cousins, and uncles over there. Why should she wait to see them?

Estella laughed.

" Not tonight! We have to make some preparations. Just so long as you won't be leaving behind anyone too important."

That night, Amanda happily gathered the love letters that Hannigan had written. Dumping them into the fireplace, she forced herself to set the match to them. They were quite possibly the only love letters she would ever receive, yet it was entirely liberating to watch the flames grow up to consume them. Goodbye...she whispered to herself. Goodbye old Amanda. Goodbye Childish fancies.

Goodbye lost love.

* * *

The Woman Before Me--T. Yearwood 


	5. Chapter 5 This, Our World

She say, never have I known it when it felt so good

Never have I knew it when I knew I could

Never have I done it when it looked so right

Leaving Louisiana in the broad daylight --

Goodbye-

Flying high, touch the sky  
Going to places I never knew  
So goodbye  
And hello, long ago

I can see history  
Standing still, a mystery  
If you will pardon me  
I'm away for the day--C

-This, our World--

England's shores had come into view not a moment too soon in Estella's opinion. She had discovered too late that she had no constitution for sea travel, and had managed to survive the long, rolling voyage only by lying in her cabin with an ice pack balanced on her forehead, dreading the thought of any odors such as food, cologne, wood, water, fish, or air might offer. She was truly miserable.

Amanda however, seemed to be thriving. She had eaten all of her own meals, and some of her mother's. At night, she interrogated Estella about the Wizarding world.

What did people wear? What was the government like? Finally Estella had stumbled to her trunk and rummaged to the bottom, extracting a handful of books which had been shrunk to the size of matchboxes for easier transportation.

" Those are Wizarding books." she said waving her hand to resize them. as she was staggering back to her berth. " Go. Read."

Amanda pored over them, amazed at the moving pictures, and impressed at the secrets revealed therein.They were children's books for the most part, a few text books, and one or two novels. Apparently her mother had at one point hoped to teach her own children from them.

To Amanda, it was as though her favorite children's story had suddenly been cracked open, revealing a door into a universe that before could exist only in imagination, and her enthusiasm was clouded only by the single question of how she would be personally received.

Never before had she felt so keenly that she lacked something vitally important. Never before had she felt so _flawed_. She did not have this magic that her mother had, and she had been warned that there would be little love for non-magical persons. A bile of self-defense rose in her throat unbidden, not unlike how Hannigan felt towards his own handicap.

She tried to avoid such thoughts, and concentrate instead on the adventure that must surely lie ahead. About her relatives.

What would they be like?

Would they find it in themselves to like her, even if she couldn't turn ashtrays into kittens? Would there be a place for her amongst a family that had not only been extensively Pureblood but had never even had so much as a servant that couldn't do magic?

She didn't have to wait too long, for her answer.

When they arrived, there was Eloise herself to meet them. It wasn't hard for Estella to espy Eloise, but it rather surprised Amanda that Eloise seemed to know precisely where they were going to be, and was looking directly at them when they appeared. Though there was nothing about them to set them apart from the other Muggles, and she had not seen Estella in over two decades, she recognized them almost too easily.

Before they had even fully come into view, she began striding toward them deliberately, her eyes concealed behind stylish dark glasses, and her face shaded by a frilly purple parasol that she held in one small gloved hand.

She was dressed, quite bizarrely in a unique brown and violet dress, with copper beading, a small train, and a short swallowtail overcoat. Amanda learned later that these were a type of eccentric travel robe that Eloise had specifically tailored for the purpose of standing out in both the Wizarding, and Muggle world.

When she reached them, she looked them over, taking in Amanda's healthful vigor, and Estella's greenish hue. She tipped down the shades, revealing her Rookwood green eyes. Her first words were a slight indication of how things were to be.

" Stella! You _have_ managed to keep your figure! " she stated seriously. Then, with an exultant smile she engulfed them both in her perfumed embrace. For a moment, Amanda's face was pressed against the starched fabric of her aunt's dress, and she was surrounded by the fragrance of spice, and flowers, and the sea.

It was comforting, just like Grandmother Garret's embrace had always been.

Just as suddenly as she had hugged them, Eloise pushed them both back a pace, and handed Stella her parasol. Hands free, she grasped Amanda by the shoulders.

" So we finally meet, Amanda. " she said. " You're much older than I had imagined. I thought you were but a little girl."

Eloise held her hand over the ground at waist level, to indicate how small she had thought Amanda to be.

" This is even _better_ though. Stella can tell you I have never had much patience for small children. " she smiled, and Amanda suspected that Eloise did in fact love children of all ages. " So tell me now, how old are you?"

" Twenty-three." Amanda answered.

Eloise put a hand briefly over her heart.

" Has it been so long?" she mused aloud. " Really, have you been gone from us twenty-four years, Stella?"

Amanda smiled. Her mother had never allowed anyone to call her just ' Stella'.

" What are you smiling about?" Eloise asked.

" Oh...nothing at all."

" If it's nothing at all, then it wouldn't be amusing. Confess."

" Mother never let's anyone call her Stella."

" She does when she is home. She will always be Stella to me. E-_stella_ seems so...long." she smiled perkily.

" Still the same Aunt Eloise." said Stella, with a sigh.

" It really has been twenty-four years, hasn't it?" returned Eloise.

" It doesn't seem possible, does it?" Stella laughed. Her color was returning.

" We have years of gossip to catch up on! " Eloise replied.

" Yes...I want to know everything. I'm sure mother hasn't written me everything that has happened. I want to know everything."

" As do I."

" I don't believe I have as much to tell..."

" Nonsense there is always _something_ to tell. A person would be better to keep that in mind at all times, it makes conversation so much more enjoyable. Let's go, shall we?"

The matter of how to get 'home' had puzzled them all for a brief moment.

Amanda had expected a car.

Eloise had expected that Amanda could Apparate.

Estella had to confess Amanda's secret a little sooner than anticipated, but if Eloise seemed appalled that Amanda was 'ungifted', it didn't show in her carefully schooled features.

With a brisk, business-like wave of her wand, she shrunk all of the luggage, and imperiously gestured for Stella and Amanda to gather and pocket the collection of trunks and suitcases. She managed this efficiently, and so discreetly that none of the Muggles who milled around noticed the occurrence. Afterwards she conceded to a Muggle taxi, but only to the outskirts of the city.

After they had paid the driver and he had driven well out of sight, Eloise found a stone, and created a device which she called a 'Portkey'. To Amanda, it still looked like a stone, but she soon learned the difference when it was thrust into her hands, without warning.

She reeled as she found her feet again. Suddenly, without explanation, she was on a cobbled street, where many men and women walked to and fro, dressed in an odd assortment of colorful clothes, ignoring the sudden appearance of the three women.

The Portkey travel had made her dizzy in a way the the tossing of the ship on the waves had not, and she had to lean against the wrought iron fence a moment, while the world spun lazily before her eyes.

" Are you all right, dear?" her mother finally asked.

Amanda nodded.

" Yes..but that was...amazing!" better than a theme park ride, in her humble opinion.

She raised her head to take in the sight of her new home. The Rookwood house was sharp, tall, and aloof, with many gables, and countless windows. It had been painted a dark grey, and therefore looked both imposing and withdrawn, tucking itself back into the shadow of the two great trees that stood sentinel on either side, their gnarly boughs brushing gently against the eaves.

Climbing roses hung heavily on the fence, despite the cool weather. (Later, Eloise would admit that they were charmed to bloom all year), and a row of neatly tended hedges obscured the lower half of the first story windows from the prying eyes of the pedestrians.

' It's _beautiful_. " she allowed.

" Ahh...The Rookwood Manse." Eloise commented drily. " We _could_ have expanded it over the years, but I believe in _never _stretching yourself to live better than your neighbor. It's always had _just _enough room for everyone."

" Even now?" Estella asked lightly.

" Of _course_. Well...Winter and I did remodel slightly for your arrival. Oh, and there she is! There Amanda, is the woman who is to blame."

" Blame?" Amanda didn't see anyone.

" Of course. Who else would you blame?"

" Blame for what?"

" For whatever! An important thing to remember about your life, is that it is your grandparent's fault!"

Amanda wasn't sure how to answer, and was thankful when the door opened and the woman who was her grandmother came hurrying out. Just as she had been in the paintings Amanda had admired, Winter was almost an exact replica of her elder sister. The same height, the same greenish-gold eyes. Their hair had even greyed in the same manner; two wide silver stripes on either side of the high, smooth foreheads.

The only noticeable difference was that Eloise had her hair done up in a knot, under her hat, while Winter's was loose, and hung nearly to her ankles. And Winter wore a large billowy green robe, that did little to disguise her slim figure, and a lot to accentuate her ivory complexion.

As she walked briskly down the path, her hair and robes billowing behind her, Amanda was struck by her beauty. Had she _truly _descended form this wonderful creature? Her excitement at meeting Winter was suddenly curbed by painful shyness, and she ducked her head.

Winter exuded joy and warmth as she met them, taking her daughter into her arms and rocking her as though she were a little girl who had been lost, but found her way home at long last. Amanda felt sad, that it had been so long. She could never live for twenty-four years without seeing her mother!

" Ah, ah...my sweet Stella!" she said when she finally released her daughter. She brushed at her eyes swiftly. " Just look at you! Oh, you poor thing, you look just like _Eloise_!"

" No, she looks just like you, Winter. " Eloise argued. " Just look at her chin and nose.Exactly the same! "

Stella laughed brightly, so that her daughter thought it must be a joke between these women, and that they knew how much alike they _all _seemed, and that anyone could confuse them. Beside them, she was suddenly orange and pale, and ducked her head once more to examine the paving stones along the walk.

" Amanda! " Winter suddenly chirped. " Oh, _Amanda,_ come here to me."

" She is twenty-three, Winter. Did you know?" Eloise asked, one hand on her hip.

" Of course I _knew_. Oh, you pretty creature! " Amanda felt a thrill surge through her as the older woman touched her hair and examined her hands. " Tell me what is your favorite color, hmmm? Say _pink_. Eloise and I had a long discussion-'

" Argument." Eloise interjected.

" Discussion. Just yesterday. I was going to have your rooms all ready for you, but we didn't know your favorite color. Oh, I know Stella's is _blue_. But I said pink for you, and Eloise said that pink was out of style for girls and that it was most likely something bright, something like that electric yellow color. Well?"

" Oh...I like violet." Amanda managed. " And...white."

" White! Ha! you wouldn't have supposed that!" Eloise cackled. " We both _lost_!"

" White is a lovely color. And don't listen to your Aunt Eloise, she paints pictures occasionally, and thinks that she is an expert on colors, and their effects on the mind and soul. If we let her get a word in, she'll be trying to tell you that white isn't a color at all. But I say that if it has a name, then it's a color, what do you think?"

" Perhaps we should all go inside." Eloise suggested loudly. " You might be boring the neighbors, Winnie."

" Come, let us go inside." Winter suggested, as though Eloise had not spoken." I'll introduce you to your cousins, and then get right to work on that room."

" Oh you don't have too..." Amanda began, but Winter cut her off with a sharp wave of a manicured hand.

" Of course I do. It will only take a _moment_."

' Mother, I think she might be overwhelmed!" Stella ventured.

" Well, of _course _she is. She must be exhausted too, so many new things to learn and see, all at once. I bet you are dizzy too, aren't you?"

Amanda nodded.

" So tell me, do they have any men in America, Amanda?" Eloise interrupted.

" Yes...of course. Why?"

" I was only wondering how a young lady as attractive as yourself, could have lived to the age of twenty-three without being married once or twice. Or have you been?"

" Oh..no. I haven't." she blushed. " I'm not interested in love." she supplied.

" Love? I said _marriage_, girl" they all laughed. " I would never have been married if I had waited for _love_."

" Don't listen to her." Winter soothed. " She was _always_ in love, just not with her _husbands_."

" I'm sure you'll find love to be much _more _interesting in _our _world. " said Eloise. " We'll invite some of the most eligible bachelors over for you to meet. Like that fellow, what is his name Winter?"

" Which fellow?"

" The one whose father wrote that book about the evolution of wizards.? Caused quite a stir. "

" Oh yes...let me see...Cosmo Wentwart."

" That is the one. He is _very_ handsome."

" And Philo Fenwicke...of the Artiste circle."

" Oh, not _Philo_! He is so _very _dull!"

They slowed down their pace to face each other.

" Philo dull?" Winter demanded. " After that wonderful speech he gave last spring?"

" On the Goblin poetry of the late fourteen-hundreds?" Eloise asked drily.

" Nooo! The one about the Ministry and it's new laws."

" Oh yes. " Eloise snapped her fingers in dismissal. " Well, I didn't say that he wasn't _clever_."

They resumed walking toward the house, each holding one of Amanda's arms. Stella, biting a knuckle, walked alongside her mother, trying to find a way to change the subject.

It wasn't necessary. As they approached the steps, the door opened once more, and a pretty girl in a simple grey dress and starched white apron stood waiting.

" Polly!" Winter exclaimed." This my daughter Estella, and _her_ daughter, Amanda."

" How do you do?" the girl asked, dropping a slight curtsy.

" This is Polly, who I am afraid is much overworked at the moment as cook, maid, housekeeper and butler." Winter laughed. " And despite everything my mother ever taught me about handling servants, she is also my good friend."

" Thank you, Ms. Rookwood." the girl smiled. " May I get you anything? "

" Yes, tell Agnes and Demogene that they have arrived, then we'll all have tea. Bring a cup for yourself as well."

" Very good, Ms. Rookwood. " Polly dropped another curtsy and left silently.

" Before the tea arrives, let me show you your room, Amanda. " Winter pleaded, excitement shining in her luminous eyes. With a shy nod and smile, Amanda allowed herself to be led from her mother's side.

The house seemed composed of a few impossible angles, the staircase did not seem exactly natural. It went straight up, yet had an inexplicable turn, and an open rail overhead. The upstairs was even more angular and confusing, and the bedroom itself seemed much larger than what was possible from viewing the house's exterior. It held a large bed, double closet, several chests and bureaus, a writing desk, two armchairs, a sewing table, and three large bookshelves.

An enormous rug, with pile as deep as Amanda's ankle lay invitingly in the room's center, and another small one lay in front of a door leading to the bath. The bath itself was nearly as large as the bedroom, with a separate dressing room off to the left.

Two long marble vanity counters, with polished porcelain sinks ran down either side of the room. At one end, stood the bathtub, deep and curved. It was encased in a marble box, and an assortment of candles and plants sat along the box's ledge.

To the side, in private alcove of it's own, the toilet was hiding, along with another cabinet and a full length mirror. This cabinet proved to be full of thick, plush towels and a variety of soaps, shampoos and oils.

The dressing room was carpeted with a rug even thicker than the one in the bedroom. A white vanity table with a large lighted mirror, and matching chair graced the center. On it's surface lay a silver hair brush, a hand mirror, and a jewelry box.

" Do you like it?" Winter asked, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

" Oh yes!" Amanda breathed. " It's _beautiful_...Too beautiful! I _really_ don't need this much room."

" You are a young lady, and all ladies simply _must_ have a spacious chamber. All the bedrooms are like this. Stella's, Eloise's, my own. Now, watch this!"

She took her wand from with her sleeve, and with a gentle wave, the plain taupe coverlet on the bed turned to violet satin.

The linens and pillowcases were suddenly bright, clean white. Similar waves rendered the floor a dark gleaming wood, the rug purple, the furniture white. The marble in the bathroom was altered from grey to white, with lavender veins ripping through the stark surface. The towels in the cupboard were suddenly plum and violet, the flowers and candles soft white.

Amanda could not disguise her awe, and turned around and around, admiring the lovely decor. As she twirled, Winter added brass lamps, and picture frames, and summoned books from the library below to fill the empty bookshelves.

She stood back and admired her wandwork with a satisfied smile.

" There. Is that better?"

' Better than anything I could imagine!' Amanda proclaimed.

' Well...it better be. It's what I do for a living."

" You are a decorator?"

" Well, I _was_. I didn't have to work, mind you, but I already enjoyed it as a hobby, and I was good enough. I retired a few years ago, but I still enjoy a little redecorating every now and then. Now, where are your things? Your luggage. I'll return them to normal size."

" In my pockets. " Amanda searched in her coat pocket and retrieved her five pieces of luggage.

" Place them on the bed, then step back. There you are. Now you can unpack whenever you feel ready. Right now though, I believe Polly might have our tea. Come along, Amanda."

With one last admiring glance at her new quarters, Amanda took her grandmother's arm and exited the room with a smile.

* * *

Leaving Louisiana--Oakridge Boys  
Goodbye-Chicago 


	6. Chapter 6 Cousins

Sisters, sisters, there were never such devoted sisters

Never had to have a chaperone, "No sir"

I'm here to keep my eye on her

Caring, sharing ev'ry little thing that we are wearing

-When a certain gentleman arrived from Rome

She wore the dress and I stayed home

All kinds of weather, we stick together,

the same in the rain or sun

Two diff'rent faces, but in tight places,

we think and we act as one

Those who've seen us know that not a thing could come between us

Many men have tried to split us up, but no one can

Lord help the mister who comes between me and my sister

And Lord help the sister who comes between and my man

* * *

--Cousins--

Agnes Rookwood was what she termed ' late thirtiesh' ( which meant, early fortiesh), and she carefully used glamour charms to disguise the grey hairs that began to show occasionally in her dull blond hair.

She might have been pretty, for her wide smooth face, with it's square forehead and wide-spaced eyes was not unpleasant to look at. However she wore at all times either an expression of bored disdain, or narrow-eyed anger, and this, which twisted her fragile, curved mouth in a wicked fashion, made her generally repellant.

Her mother, Wilemina Rookwood, had been Eloise's youngest sister, and it was simply very bad luck that had placed the woman in the path of an errant Deatheater's curse, many years ago.

She had been merely in the act of stepping across the street, but had happened to step between the masked assassin and his intended target. Agnes, and her sister Demogene, had been behind her, and had witnessed the whole event with the horrified curiosity that only children can summon. Their infant brother, Aristotle, had unfortunately, been in Wilemina's arms at the time.

Agnes father, a man that Eloise referred to only as 'Willa's husband', had promptly evaporated, so to speak, going a little crazy every day, until it became obvious to everyone that he had gone all the way towards insanity. Then, he simply disappeared. Never to be seen again.

Eloise had taken both girl's into her home, and raised them as well as she could. She always suspected that the violent death of their mother, and the subsequent loss of their father had scarred them both deeply, but in ways so different from each other, that at times, the contrast was startling.

Agnes had taken on a very coarse exterior. She became a bully. A physical bully at first, until her brains caught up with her temper. Then she became the sly agitator that coached the other bullies from the sidelines. Her methods were erratic, her victims chosen at random; and like most bullies, the instant she was defeated, she fell in love.

Earnest Williworth had appeared at first sight to be an easy mark. He was tall, wiry, and bespectacled. He read poetry, had a distinct, soft stammer, and usually preferred to be alone.

He had been cornered a few times by Agnes and her pet bullies, and allowed himself to be tripped up and pushed around. However the day came when her favorite protege, Grinks, staged a battle with little Earnest, who, though he was outweighed, and under-tall, agreed to fight it out like a man.

Grinks had lasted only a few minutes, for Earnest was a first rate boxer-- light on his toes, and quick with his fists. Grinks' friend, Bull had stepped in, only to fall even faster and harder. No one else would challenge Earnest, so Agnes had flown at him in a rage, and he had not restrained himself from giving her a few taps to cool her spirits. Nothing hard enough to hurt more than her pride.

Agnes could have turned him in to one of the professors; a boy striking a girl, no matter her fault in the matter, was worthy of severe punishement. She could have frightened any number of her peers into agreeing with her. But instead, she began to follow Earnest about, cow-eyed, and worshipping, becoming the laughing stock of the school she had once kept in fear. It was shocking.

Even more shocking was the day before graduation, when Earnest had stood up at dinner, set a small box down in front of her and said;

" You're marrying me tomorrow after the ceremony. I expect you to be at the door and packed at exactly five."

Then sat back down to finish his meal.

Earnest wasn't even a cruel person. He had just learned that to have power over Agnes, a person had to be more confidant than she felt herself.

It was a puzzling union.

They seemed always to be quarreling, yet they were also inseparable, clinging to each other with an almost morbid fascination, and their marriage might have been eternal, had it not been for Demogene's misfortune.

Demogene was timid. She had been timid all her life, and the timidity only increased with the death of her mother. She had turned to Agnes as her support, because Agnes was strong.

Agnes welcomed this, and soon dictated over Demogene's life with tyrannical strictness. She told her what to wear, what to eat, and what to do. Demogene had to choose the classes Agnes insisted on, the friends Agnes recommended, and the words Agnes told her to say.

Agnes had complete control over her meek and subservient sibling.

Or so she thought.

After Agnes had married Earnest, she still kept a strict and watchful eye on Demogene, forcing her by threat of pain, ( which Demogene feared beyond reason) to spend all of her time either at Agnes's side, or at Eloise's house where Agnes could still know her every move.

But Agnes wasn't all-seeing, and while forced into bed rest during her first pregnancy, she was unaware that Demogene had met a lover.

The man was one of Eloise's friends, a polite young architect named Miles Bangle. Their courtship proceeded in secret, and by the time Agnes was delivered of her child, her sister had 'eloped' with young Bangle.

To say that Agnes was furious was an understatement. She became so jealously raving mad...so violent, that Earnest had seen fit to have her 'rest ' awhile in the hospital, afraid she might injure herself or the baby. ( Or, truth be told, Demogene and Miles.)

Agnes returned months later, subdued, but cold. She refused to speak to Demogene, until the guilt and anxiety began to eat away at Demogene's already somewhat weaker health. Demogene learned at that time that she herself was physically incapable of having babies, which she saw as punishment for having deceived her sister.

Then, one day, Agnes had just changed. She visited Demogene for the first time, all cheerful and forgiving, and began to invite her and Miles over. Most people assumed that Earnest had finally ' had a word' with Agnes. Whatever the reason for her miraculous change-of-heart, it brought great joy and relief to Demogene, whose pointy, pale face began to glow again with health and contentment.

It was short-lived.

Five months after Agnes' contrition, Miles was crushed to death when a building he had been constructing collapsed on himself and his assistants. It was said that the stasis charms on the pillars had been tampered with...but everyone just allowed that such things happened, and when it was time for you to go, Death would find a door to lead you through.

Demogene had moved quickly back to the safety and comfort of Eloise's house, which was expected. What was strange, was that Agnes divorced Earnest that same month, and also returned, without so much as saying goodbye to her children. As though she had never let them go, she took up Demogene's reins again and began exercising extreme control.

Eloise stood by helplessly, and watched Demogene slowly deteriorate. Anytime she attempted to intervene, and coax Agnes into being less overbearing, Agnes would explode in a violent fit, claiming she was innocent and swearing she was doomed to be persecuted her entire life. Demogene would always weakly defend her sister.

Over the years, Demogene took up a slightly hunched posture, always walking with her arms folded protectively over her breasts, her feet sliding heavily on the floor. Her hair, even paler and finer than Agnes', began to thin, and recede from her high forehead, so that from a distance she looked bald, and up close, she had only a tiny braid down the back of her neck, the thickness of a woman's thumb, and not ten inches long.

It was while watching this living death, that Eloise began contemplating her own mortality. She had no children of her own, because in her long ago youth, she had thought herself too important for such trivialities. Much more concerned with how to save and manage her money, she had forgotten that in due time, it would all have to go somewhere else. When that realization had struck her, she had cried. Not because she might die, but because she hadn't anyone of her own to leave behind.

That, she knew, was why she kept her nieces close, even though they were soft and useless.

Which one of them deserved her money?

Agnes?

She would have it spent in two years. In pubs, on gambling; supporting the miserable, worthless people she liked to 'adopt'.

Demogene?

She would give it to Agnes as soon as the coffin was closed.

Agnes' children were out of the question for the same reason. Agnes would simply orce it away from them eventually.

Winter was too old...almost as old as her self. Winter's son, Rogero...ah, poor Rogero. Well, he was in no condition to be considered was he? But he was one of her concerns. She had been paying steadily for his upkeep since the day he had been committed to St. Mungo's. He was a responsibility that went with the money. Would Agnes or Demogene continue to support him? Likely they would not.

A small sliver of Eloise's mind knew from the beginning that she would eventually call for Stella to send Amanda to her. She hoped to find in the girl, the same qualities that she most admired in Winter, and in Stella. She also had hoped that the arrival of a new person, or persons, would disrupt the downward spiral Agnes and Demogene were experiencing. Perhaps there was the possibility of friendship, of mentoring, of...anything.

But from the moment that Winter led Amanda into the parlor, Eloise knew that there would be no love between Amanda and Agnes. There was an air about Amanda which suggested too much leniency, her southern manners were no less than exquisitely honed.

She would try, at great cost to herself, to please her older cousin, like any good hostess. Only she had no house to invite Agnes into, only her companionship, and at the very tentative first she offered her friendship, her kindness, and a portion of her large heart, generously and selflessly. This was a form of weakness, in Agnes' opinion, and was as heady to her senses as blood before sharks.

Eloise saw in Agnes' eyes, only the desire to crush whatever bloomed in Amanda that was different from herself. Without cause, she would dislike her absolutely. Amanda sensed this, and was ashamed. She lowered her eyes.

When introduced to Demogene however, there was only a faint ripple passing between the two. Demogene was a tired person, and it was such a bone wearying tired that it made the room heavy and sleepy,

When Amanda felt this weariness come to rest upon her, it made her shoulders bow slightly,and she sighed warmly. No, Demogene would not like her either, but only because she had ceased to like or dislike anything beyond the objects and people she was already familiar with. To step outside that comforting ring of familiarity would take more life than she was willing to spare.

Eloise left the door open, and had Polly draw back the drapes, as if hoping the light would somehow brighten them all, and chase away Demogene's sadness. It helped slightly, and in the sunlight, Amanda could breathe easier.

She found herself sleepily admiring the what-nots and tidies and furnishings of this magical household, while the older women began gossiping; Stella taking up the thread of a conversation lost over twenty-years ago. Her mother's voice called off names, and Eloise, Winter, or occasionally Agnes would provide the history of that person.

" Millicent Harple? Oh, but didn't you know? She married Greeter Fullworthy!"

" She didn't!"

Once, Demogene leaned close to her and said in a voice low enough to be considered a whisper;

" Is it very different, in America?"

" I think so." Amanda answered, and smiled, hoping that it would put her cousin at ease. It didn't. Instead, she drew back, startled, somewhat.

" Oh. " was all she spoke, which Amanda might have pondered on, or in turn asked her a question, since the invitation had been opened.But Eloise noticed the short exchange, and addressed Agnes and Demogene, saying that she hoped they would be kind enough to help Amanda find her way around, and learn ' their ways'.

They had both been non-committal in answering, both resenting this request.

Amanda blanched-- understanding that without meaning to, Eloise had made her their enemy. The half-blood imposter. Again, she felt a nervous chill under Agnes' gaze, and lowered her eyes to the floor.

* * *

Sisters-Irving Berlin 


	7. Chapter 7 Rookwood

_**I got my own way of livin'**_

_**But everything gets done**_

_**With a southern accent**_

_**Where I come from--**_

* * *

**--Rookwood--**

**Soon, Rookwood Manor had absorbed Amanda. It had always known her, and she had always known it's faded mauve walls, and peeling white paint.**

**She became part of it's shadow, part of it's light, part of the soft female fragrance that had long ago permeated the furnishings.**

**Occasionally, Eloise would see her admiring something, and tell her a piece of the house's history.**

**" It's funny you should like to stand there, just so, Amanda. That was your great-grandfather's favorite place."**

**" I see you like that corner. Those flowers were hand-painted by your Great-great grandmother Irelia."**

**Though she could easily have spent her remaining life drifting through the nooks and crannies of the house, reading in it's corners, and sewing by it's windows; Eloise had other notions as to what young women should do.**

**She had decided that the best way for Amanda to adapt and to learn, was to 'polish' her, so to speak. Amanda was receiving her finishing education all over, only this time, it was in ways she would never have imagined before.**

**She watched as her relatives used spells and charms to clean, sew, transfigure, alter and summon. She herself could not perform these spells, but Eloise insisted that she learn them all, just the same, against the chance that she might have 'repressed' abilities of her own.**

**" Besides, it doesn't hurt to be on your toes about such things. You never know when you might need to discuss a spell, or need to describe one."**

**Besides the spells and charms, she had to learn Wizarding history, with it's wars and economics, and politics. There were famous names to learn, living and dead; geography, the monetary system, magical creatures and races, and basic knowledge of potions.**

**" Just because you can't brew them, doesn't mean you can't use them." Winter told her. " There are potions for practically everything. From the strongest antidote to the mildest stain remover, and you will need a proper knowledge of how to use them. "**

**They set her to work in the kitchen, brewing on simple salves, balms, and antacids that needed no magic, only careful measurements, and preparing the ingredients for the others if they were brewing a ' true' potion. She was very meticulous with her work, and learned quickly.**

**Not only did this please Eloise, but it pleased Amanda as well, because at last she had found a way to be useful. She also had a green thumb for growing certain cooking herbs, and after taking over the care of Winter's herb boxes, they soon over-spilled with lush aromatic plants. As long as the weather charm remained in place, there was never a lack of pungent sage, rosemary, basil, dill, and a dozen other culinary delights.**

**However, she quickly implied that the herb boxes were as far as she would go towards gardening. Flowers and vegetables held no interest for her, and no amount of coaxing or flattery would change her opinion.**

**Every other day or so, they would go out, and show Amanda the charms of the Wizarding world. They took her first around the village, to show her the quaint shops- the cobblers, and the market, and the small stalls that sold magical toys, animals, candy, and trinkets. She was reminded at every turn of the prose of Dickens, only with Wizards and Witches standing in as the Dramatis Personae.**

**As Eloise suspected, Agnes and Demogene were unenthusiastic about Amanda and Stella. On occasion Demogene would offer to show Amanda a shop or introduce her to an acquaintance, but they generally all three avoided each other by unspoken agreement.**

**Amanda did not mind too much. She was in love with this new world, and Agnes and Demogene were not. They had always been a part of it, and they were bored and sullen with it. She liked going out with her mother, because Stella was in a way rediscovering magic, and became just as excited at all the new inventions and landmarks that had accumulated during her absence.**

**Winter was indulgent company and could be easily amused by any questions or antics.**

**Eloise was good company because she gave short simple answers, and pointed out the serious issues of the Wizarding World. She carried a walking stick,( mostly fashionable people did, Amanda noticed. ) and when they walked she would either point with it, or lean on it while giving dissertation on whatever object had gained her attention. It was not a necessity, by an extension of herself. An accessory.**

**After the village had been explored, they took her to London, and to Diagon Alley, where Amanda could be impressed by the sheer size, and how cleverly it was hidden.**

**" Oh, there are places such as this in every town and city in the world." Eloise assured her. Leaning close, in a conspiratorial fashion, she added;**

**" Even in New Orleans, I would imagine."**

**Amanda turned to Stella, partly in question, partly in accusation. She was slightly irritated that Stella had kept this life so secret. Stella flushed. She had explained many times why she felt she had to divorce herself from the Wizarding world, but she never fully explained, and from Eloise, and Winter's behavior, Amanda suspected that their might be more to the story.**

**" I honestly don't know... " she said defensively. " if there was a Wizarding section of New Orleans. I never had cause to explore. "**

**After they had explored every stall and booth, Eloise asked Amanda if there was anything she might like. Amanda confessed that though the trinkets and baubles were pretty, what she wanted most of all was a new wardrobe. She did not like that her Muggle clothes were so drab and ungraceful amongst all the flowing dresses, and velvet robes.**

**" Clothes! Why, she is a girl!" Eloise crowed exultantly. " Of course you shall have clothes. Which ones do you like?"**

**Amanda couldn't explain it, but she suddenly felt like Alice conversing with the white Queen. She felt very young, and and very out of place. Awkwardly, she tried to explain that she didn't necessarily want robes, as she wasn't really a witch, but just some dresses. Something Victorian, perhaps. High collared blouses and long straight skirts. A dress or two with soft skirts and gently tucked waistlines. No more having to wear unflattering knit tops, and uncomfortable trousers and jeans.**

**Eloise gleamed with anticipatory glee. She already had a seamstress in mind. Not Madam Malkin, no, she was a little too old fashioned, a little too stark. And Madam Crinkle, she was too...vibrant. Too overzealous about the newest and most popular fashion statements. Eloise imagined Amanda in one of the wide trouser legged robes with the orange fringe that many young witches were wearing. No, the idea was preposterous.**

**" I'll send for a seamstress tomorrow." she insisted. " I know just the perfect lady for the task. I'll see that you have a closet full of pretty clothes."**

**" I only need a few." Amanda protested.**

**Eloise sent her a look that said there was no such thing as a girl who required only a few garments--herself included. Eloise never wore less than three sets of robes per day, and always dressed specially for going out, or evening parties.**

**" We'll see that you have enough. And that reminds me...Amanda, there is something else that I want you to have. I know, you can't use it, not yet, but I believe in being prepared. I am going to buy you a wand."**

**A wand**

**What an exciting idea! She would have her own wand, even though it would be only an empty accessory.**

**But what if it wasn't? What if she could eventually learn to use it? The possibility was intriguing, and she made a promise to herself, that as soon as she owned one, she would practice with it relentlessly. She would will herself to be able to use one!**

**She was sad to learn that the wand would be delayed until the next week, however. The wandmaker claimed that he was too busy to be making house-calls, as it was time for the new students from Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Witchery to be buying their first wands. He couldn't possibly arrive sooner than Saturday, not even for a friend.**

**Eloise had been irritated, in the way that someone can only be irritated with friends they have had for a long time. She threatened to have someone else make the wand, and Winter had laughed and told Amanda that Eloise wouldn't dare. Their family had been using Ollivander's for generations, and no other wandmaker would make house-calls, or tolerate Eloise's imperious behavior.**

**For a wand, she might have to wait until Saturday, but for her new clothes, she had only to wait until the next day. Eloise had spoken with a seamstress, a certain Madam LeBonne, who had been very exuberant about the prospect.**

**Amanda was soon to learn that Amele LeBonne was exuberant about everything.**

**" I have four babies, you know? Four! Can you believe that? All such wonderful fat little things, with brown eyes. Their father is fat too though. Oh, such a fat little Frenchman he is**

**I remember, ten years ago, we met in France. Ah, ah, he was so sunburnt, like an apple. Red, he was. And he had lost his glasses in the sea. I was swimming that afternoon, because I cannot resist swimming, and I see him walking about. This little fat man, all bald on top and red, and he is stooped over like this..." she stooped to demonstrate.**

**" I call out to him, to find out what he is doing, all stooped over like that. We searched for an hour for his glasses, but they must have washed out already. He asked me to dine with him later on the terrace, and of course I accepted, because I have my grandmother's gypsy eye, and I knew this was my new husband. Yes, that very week, he proposed. Squinted up his eyes at me, and said " O Amm-eee-lee" in such a way. Such a way I fell in love with him.**

**Only I teased him and said he might not have proposed could he have seen me! Ten years ago, and now, we have four babies. All boys. All boys. But we will have a girl next time, I am sure. Wouldn't that be nice?"**

**Amanda thought that it would. Amele should have a daughter. A daughter to carry on her long dark hair, and laughing dark eyes. A girl with just the slightest gap between her white front teeth. She liked Amele, this woman who was of the gypsies and so eager and full of life and beauty. She wanted to reach out and pat her hair, and call her a friend. Amele worked with long dexterous fingers, never thinking about her work, as she sewed, both with magic, and by hand.**

**Amele was the seamstress appointed by Eloise.**

**" You are Am-anda? I am Am-ele. " she had pronounced, as though that in itself were the secret to life. It gave them something to share, this similarity of names.**

**She was a gypsy, her grandmother had been born in Romania. She was a full blooded witch as well, but her magic behaved differently than Eloise's. When she waved her hands to illustrate her conversation, little warm waves of magic would fall over Amanda.**

**She also did many things without using magic at all, like some of the sewing.**

**' Never is a good garment made all of magic. Magic is only so good as the maker. Buy always real cloth, woven, even in the Wizarding world, some things should be done the hard way,or people get lazy, and then, everything falls apart. " she bit of a piece of the white thread, which showed up brilliantly against her golden olive skin.**

**Her dresses were beautiful. She had seemed to read Amanda's mind, drawing out some quick sketches with a short chewed pencil.**

**" Like this? " she would ask.**

**She had made her several blouses and skirts. Mostly white blouses, with full sleeves and trimmed with narrow lace. The skirts were brown or blue or black, and fell just to the tops of Amanda's feet, giving her an austere grace. A serious innocence.**

**On this day, Saturday morning, she was making adjustments to a dress she was designing. It had short capped sleeves, a square neckline, and fell gently over a her client's natural line. It consisted of a white underskirt with a white crocheted over-dress, making it appear frothy and lace heavy.**

**It was much fancier than Amanda would have chosen, but Eloise had been adamant that this, as well as three others should be made. So adamant that Amele had been to the house four times that week.**

**" You are wiggling. Why are you wiggling? You fidget like my son Jules when he is doing something naughty. Do you have a lizard in your pocket? Or fireflies?"**

**" No!" Amanda laughed. " I'm just nervous."**

**" About what? I've haven't stuck you yet with a pin, have I?" Amele smiled everytime Amanda spoke, being fascinated with her drawling accent.**

**" No. It's just that Eloise is having a wand made for me this evening."**

**" Ahh...yes, she said something like that. There is nothing to be worried about, you just have to be there." she hemmed up the skirt, and handed her own wand to Amanda.**

**" Isn't it pretty? I bought it in London, from Ollivander's. I had an old one, that was my grandmother's. I never could use it well, that is why I learned to sew by hand as well. But, this one, it was like it was meant for me to find it. Sometimes I feel that it knows what I want before I tell it."**

**Amanda admired the smooth length, handling it carefully. Around the handle, a series of small flowers were carved faintly in the soft wood.**

**She handed it back with a sad smile.**

**" It's very pretty. Aunt Eloise wants me to have a wand, but I don't believe it will do me any good. "**

**Amele had no prejudices. She rocked back on her heels and grinned up at Amanda.**

**" Ah, you never know. Is that the occasion for this dress?" she flounced up the skirt playfully.**

**" No! Aunt Eloise wants to have a some parties. I am to be introduced to some of her friends." Amanda tried to keep her voice level, but Amele saw that she did not wish to attend.**

**" Young bachelors?" Amele winked.**

**Amanda blushed miserably.**

**The older woman laughed.**

**" I don't wish to meet them!"**

**" What if one of the men, the gentlemen, is to be your lover?" Amele tilted her head.**

**" I tried to explain to her, that I have no desire for such a thing.!"**

**" Give me your hand Am-anda, I might be able to read your future. Maybe I can tell you if someone is to be in your future, no? At the very least, I can tell you if you shall ever do magic."**

**Amanda watched with fascination as her small white hand disappeared into the long, strong hand of Amele, who turned it this way and that, against the window light. She traced all of the lines, and felt of the fingers, flipping it over once to examine the fingernails and knuckles. Then she looked at the other hand. Then held both side by side. She laughed warmly.**

**" What is it?"**

**" I cannot tell you all of it, for that might change the future." she frowned slightly." And the future is very important. But I can tell you a small part. " she folded Amanda's hand up and pressed it back against it's owner's breast. " You will do magic. And when you do, it will be wonderful."**

**" Amanda? Are you finished?" Eloise called.**

**" She is. Come in and see, Ms. Rookwood. It is perfect, just as you said."**

**Eloise entered the sewing room, and examined the dress. It was perfect.**

**" There you have it Amanda, you look as though you come from another time. Here, let me just do this." She took out her wand, and deftly dressed Amanda's hair into a high, soft upswept style that accented her face perfectly.**

**Amele cooed with delight.**

**" She is beautiful. She has just the perfect figure for these classic dresses."**

**" You mean she is chubby?" Agnes drawled from the doorway. She was holding a tin of chocolates, her shoulder resting against the door facing.**

**" Agnes, I don't believe you have any room to speak. And if you don't stop eating those bon-bons, you won't have any room to sit either." Eloise said, bitingly. " Now, what do you need?"**

**" I thought you might like to know that Ollivander is here. We can see whether or not he is a miracle worker." she offered a sweet smile. Before turning to stride away. Amanda knew she would be lurking around, just waiting for her to embarrass herself in some fashion.**

**Agnes had been exceedingly hostile towards Amanda ever since Amele had arrived at the beginning of the week, to take her measurements.**

**" Come along," Eloise offered Amanda her hand. " Let's not keep him waiting."**

**" Can't I change back into the other skirt, I don't want to tear this one. " Amanda was aware of the fragility of the crocheted lace.**

**" No. This won't take long. "**

**Amanda glanced back at Amele, who was placing a green dress over the dressmaker's dummy, preparing it for it's alterations.**

**She paused and gave Amanda a reassuring smile.**

**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

_Southern Accent lyrics-Tom Petty_


	8. Chapter 8 Wands

_I didn't know what day it was _

_when you walked into the room_

_I said hello unnoticed_

_You said goodbye too soon_

_Breezing through the clientele_

_spinning yarns that were so lyrical_

_I really must confess right here_

_the attraction was purely physical_

_I took all those habits of yours_

_that in the beginning were hard to accept_

_Your fashion sense, Beardsly prints_

_I put down to experience_

_The big bosomed lady with the Dutch accent_

_who tried to change my point of view_

_Her ad lib lines were well rehearsed_

_but my heart cried out for you_

_You're in my heart, you're in my soul_

_You'll be my breath should I grow old_

_You are my lover, you're my best friend_

_You're in my soul_

_My love for you is immeasurable_

_My respect for you immense_

_You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness_

_You're beauty and elegance_

_You're a rhapsody, a comedy_

_You're a symphony and a play_

_You're every love song ever written_

_But honey what do you see in me_

_You're an essay in glamour_

_Please pardon the grammar_

_but you're every schoolboy's dream_

_You're Celtic, United, but baby I've decided_

_You're the best team I've ever seen--_

* * *

--Wands--

Edward Olivander arrived one minute early, and had entered the parlor just as the grandfather clock was chiming the exact time of his appointment. He promptly took his pocket watch from his velvet vest, and checked that Eloise's clock kept the precise time. When Eloise arrived, ushering her neice in front, he already had the collection of sample wands laid neatly on the table.

Eloise presented Amanda as something between a princess and an anomaly. Amanda could only be self-concious of her low neckline.

Eloise and Edward had been rivals in school, friends in society, and occasionally their conversations had even bordered on cautious flirtation.The closest they had ever come to an affair was one experimental kiss before the beginning of her second marriage, and at the end of his first.

It had tasted of firewhisky, and had no passion. They had dissolved into laughter, and continued as friends. He was one of the few people she could only rarely bully, and she was the only person who wasn't intimidated by his flares of temper.

The Rookwood family had always had their wands made at Ollivanders, and even though he had been too young to make Eloise's wand, Edward Ollivander was his father's apprentice at the time.

Therefore, it was he to whom Eloise had brought her wand when it was broken in an illegal duel, and she needed it not only repaired, but 'erased'. In strictest confidence, so she told Amanda later.

That had been a favor that might well have cost him his right to perform magic; and now she was using her knowledge of it to blackmail him into yet another illegal action; making a wand for a non-magical half-blood. He found Eloise to be very ruthless, and she found him to be very co-operative at times.

Amanda found him to be peculiar, slightly eccentric, and enjoyable company, despite his unblinking stare, and gruff manner. He had began by taking a long measuring tape from his pocket, and set it to begin taking a series of measurements by itself, while Eloise hovered impatiently.

" What I am imagining," she said, " is a light lady's wand. Something not too high spirited. And fair, like maple."

He deliberately ignored her, as he went through the samples, weighing them each carefully, and holding them up against the light, or next to Amanda's shoulder.

" What hand do you favor?" he demanded.

" Her left." Eloise said, before Amanda could answer.

Edward grimaced.

" Madam, I cannot work with you interupting!" he declared, and ushering her to the door, he shoved her through and closed it loudly.

Amanda seemed prepared to bolt when he turned back, so he offered a slight smile.

" Now, which hand do you favor?" he asked, as though nothing had occurred.

" My left." she answered.

He frowned, which was completely controversial to his tone when he exclaimed delightedly;

" Left! Wonderful. There is hope yet. " he examined her hand, then placed one of the wands in it.

" Don't be discouraged if the right one isn't here. Sometimes it takes years to find the right wand. These are a suggestion, that's all, an idea of what you need. This one is maple, twelve inches, springy."

She clutched it expectantly, and he sighed in frustration.

" Well?" he waved his hand in an impatient circle. " Wave it around. Try a spell, if you know one."

She knew several, thanks to Eloise and Winter, but she couldn't explain how utterly ridiculous she was going feel shouting out a spell, only to have nothing happen.

Blushing furiously, she tried a simple, whispered 'wingardium leviosa', and was surprised to feel the wand grow very warm in her hand. That was all that happened however.

" Aha...well." he snatched it away and thrust another in it's place. " Willow, thirteen and 1/4 inches, whippy. Good for charms."

Again she succeeded in creating nothing but a deeper frown on his countenance.

One after one, she was handed wands. When she had tried them all, he shuffled through them, and laid several of them to the side. He had her hold the remaining ones again. Then wave them. He had her use different spells. Still they were both unsatisfied, and he began packing everything back into his bag, rather viciously.

After this was done, he peered at her very closely. She could do nothing but peer back.

" I could almost swear I have seen you before." he said. " But I remember every wand I have ever sold. I remember your mother's wand. Oak, fourteen inches, wonderfully swishy. A good wand. Very good for Transfiguration. "

Amanda nodded, though she had no idea how long her mother's wand was, or what it was good for. Stella rarely used it, and Amanda suspected that would be an unwise thing to relate to him.

" Yes. So if I can remember her...then I must be wrong about you, don't you think?" .

She only bit her lip, not certain how to answer.

He shook his head, and smiled agian.

" Yes. Well, I'll speak to Eloise about this. We can't give up so soon. Good afternoon, Ms. Garret.

Amanda remained, slightly bewildered, for a few moments after his departure. Her hand tingled from the effect of the wands, and she rubbed it over the nubby facric of the sofa. She noticed then that Ollivander's tape had been left behind, and was attempting to coil around her ankle.

She shook it off, slightly startled, and it pulled back to regard her with dismay.

No, that's silly. It can't look dismayed! It isn't alive, merely charmed, she thought to herself. Charmed or not, she had to chase it around the parlor, and corner it behind the ficus before she could catch it. It squirmed and pulled, and even pretended to strike like a snake but she retained her grip, hurrying out into the foyer.

It was a moment too late. She glimpsed his distinct figure outside the front window a second before he Disapparated.

The tape, which had been been wriggling frantically in her hands, gave a dramatic shudder and fell limp, it's 'head' thrown back over her wrist, as though in a dead faint.

" Well!" she exclaimed, amused.

" Well what? What do you have there?" Eloise asked, seeking her out.

" Mr. Ollivander's tape. He left it by accident."

Eloise frowned, and lifted the 'head', then let it fall back again.

" Thats strange, he isn't the sort of person to forget his tools. Let me have it." Amanda winced as Eloise began rolling it up tightly. " He can retrieve it on Wednesday. Or perhaps I'll hold it as a hostage until he does what I ask."

She dropped the rolled up tape into a small pewter box that sat on one of the occasional tables. With a wave of her hand, the box closed and locked.

The second visit was less aggressive. Eloise had moved them, after an accidental spell had shot a bolt of light through her favorite what-not shelf, into the second parlor.

This room had not been opened in months, the furniture was all covered with white cloths, and dust had pooled in the wrinkles. Most importantly, it had no breakable objects stored within. Shortly after they began the session, one of Eloise's favorite peddlers, a Wizard who made bi-annual visits to sell magical ladles and fancy hats, had arrived, and Eloise left to entertain her new guest.

According to Mr. O, who was in a much more cheerful, if somewhat philosophical mood, the last of the Hogwart's students had been to his shop, and therefore, he was not in so much of a rush.

" No offense to you, but I do believe Eloise could have waited until the middle of September for this. "

Amanda had agreed. She felt less enthusiastic about the wand now, anyhow. Eloise had been wrong.

She simply did not have magic in her. Stella had attempted to explain to Ollivander that she had tested Amanda at a very young age, and she simply had no abilities.

He had given the non-commital gesture of a man who is only doing what he is asked, and that by a friend. This did not impress Stella, who admitted to Amanda later, that she had never forgiven him for scaring the wits out of her when she first went in to buy a wand as a litle girl.

Amanda didn't find him the least bit scary, but he was relentless. By the time she had waved half of the wands, Amanda's arm ached, and she wondered if the tingle she had experienced the first time was only imagination. After an hour, Polly hurriedly brought in a tray of refreshments, and left again quickly, without speaking. That meant that Agnes had been harassing her over some triviality.

Amanda and Ollivander fell to talking. He questioned her about America, a country he had visited on occasion for the purpose of acquiring rare and expensive ingredients for wand cores.

Occasionally, a Witch or Wizard would pass in front of the window, and Ollivander would have to break off from his dialogue to test the depths of his memory.

" Lawence Pickle. 15 inches, oak, unbending,with a..let's see... dragonstring core. The year was...1948. Yes of course. 1948. Who would have thought he would go into accounting? He showed such promise." he sighed.

His talent never failed to impress Amanda, who had been an entire year learning Hamlet's soliloquy, and still forgot the entire middle part to 'Evangeline'.

However, despite his expertise and dedication, she failed to find a wand among his stock, and he packed them away with a certain stiffness, denoting his displeasure with both the wands and the client. Their non-cooperation was, to him, entirely unprofessional.

This displeasure did not prevent him from finishing his description of how and where in Louisiana he had had to go to find certain freshwater pearls; pearls that were overlooked by Muggles, but were so powerful in the Wizarding world that only the very affluent could afford them.

He had a dramatic and intense way of explaining the most simple facts; and Amanda felt herself engrossed, as though listening to a particularly engrossing mystery, listening carefully for important clues.

So engrossed, that when Eloise burst into the room, she nearly choked with surprise. Her aunt seemed slightly pale, and held a small parchment in her hand.

" Have you heard? " she demanded of Edward, then continued before he could answer. " The Ministry? "

He made an expession of disdain.

" Oh yes...the conspiracy thickens. " he commented drily.

" I believe it is to be passed this time. " Eloise said, shaking the paper.

" Yes, well..." he sighed, gathering up his things. " That is what we were afraid of, wasn't it?"

Eloise threw her hands up into the air.

" We were afraid.' she scoffed" We need a new Minister, that is what we need. before we have a true reason to really be afraid."

She noticed Amanda, who was still seated, listening patiently, without understanding.

" Did you find a wand?" she demanded, a bit sharply.

" No, Aunt Eloise."

Eloise turned back to face Ollivander.

" I told you-" she began, but he interuppted.

" And I told you...I will resort to that only when all other possibilities have failed. Bringing her to Diagon Alley would simplify matters a good deal, that's where the wands are, you know. No need for all this back and forth."

" Absolutely not. This is a delicate situation, and I don't want it paraded in front of half of Wizarding London. That Skeeter woman would just jump on the chance to write a deflammatory article about my-" she broke off at Amanda' expression.

" I'm sorry. It's the Ministry, has me in fits. Amanda, could you please excuse us?"

Amanda was happy enough to escape, even though she could hear the echo of the argument following her down the hall.

Apparently, Eloise won the battle, as Ollivander returned the next afternoon, with even more wands. Though he remained perfectly civil to Amanda, there was distinct coolness between himself and Eloise.

After a wearying five hours, Mr. Ollivander, the finest wandmaker in Great Britain, was defeated. He informed Eloise, in a dejected tone, his fingers pressed to his temples, that he would do as she had requested, though it went against his every fibre.

Eloise was pleased enough and allowed him some sympathy, but not much. He informed her, with as much dignity as possible, that it would be at least two weeks before he could return with the wood samples.

" What wood samples?" Amanda asked, after he had slammed Eloise's front door.

" I don't know for certain. I suppose it shall be a surprise."

" I like surprises." Amanda agreed.

" Excellent, I have another one for you right now. I have someone I want you to meet. You've heard me speak of Martin Ashwell, right? Well, he has just dropped by for a visit. Amanda, I want you to like him. He is very charming."

* * *

_You're in my heart, _lyrics-Rod Stewart


	9. Chapter 9 Hawthorn

You're nobody til somebody loves you

You're nobody til somebody cares

You may be king, you may possess the world and it's gold

But gold won't bring you happiness when you're growing old

The world still is the same, you never change it

As sure as the stars shine above

You're nobody til somebody loves you

So find yourself somebody to love--

* * *

--Hawthorn--

" Just put your hand into the box. "

" What is in there?" Amanda asked, cautiously.

Mr. Ollivander smiled indulgently.

" Wood tiles. I want you to hold them, one after another, and pull out the right one."

" How do I know which is right?"

" By the way it feels, of course!"

Amanda wasn't certain how 'right' should feel, but she reached into the box just the same and began to fondle the smooth chips. At first she noticed nothing unusual about any of them. They were cool, and rather rough. She could not even distinguish whether or not they were different grains.

But then she discovered, near the bottom, a tile that not only felt different, but displayed the same warmth she had experienced in the first wand. It was heavenly, and she found herself not wanting to let it go.

" Hawthorn. Yes...Hawthorn. Of course. " he nodded excitedly as she drew it from the box. " Just look at that grain!"

She herself could not distinguish one wood from another, but she had to agree, it was pretty.

That afternoon when he left, he was decidedly cold to Eloise. Eloise was incredibly pleased with herself and ignored his demeanor, even when he slammed the door without saying goodbye.

It was several weeks before Amanda saw him again.

During that week, Stella went to visit her brother, Rogero, in St. Mungo's. She and Winter had a very testy argument beforehand, due to something Stella had said twenty-four years ago, and Winter had remembered. Verbatim. Stella stormed off on her own, and Winter took Amanda to a small Wizarding theater, where Amanda saw her first goblins. The play was some bizarre interpretation of Wagner's ' Der Ring des Nibelungen'. Seeing it performed with speaking parts, and real magic effects was rather daunting, but it was also effectively scary in the most vital parts.

" How did you like it?" Winter asked, her previous mood now lightened.

" I...I've never seen anything quite like it." Amanda laughed. " The creatures..."

" Goblins. "

" Goblins...are real?"

" Yes. It's becoming more and more rare to see them performing in the arts, though. They have such a talent for banking and numbers that they are shifting towards working in more dignified fields." she sighed. " It's too bad about the theatertrying to replace them."

" How often do they have productions here?"

" Oh, they have three performances daily, and the same play runs up to a year if it is popular. I think the shortest was Candide...it ran only a half hour, and was closed down due to cannibalism being too tasteless for the modern theater."

" If I remember correctly.." Amanda ventured, " it wasn't only cannibalism."

" Well, every theater has it's own standards." Winter shrugged. " The only time they close the theater is after death."

" How often does that happen?" Stella asked, shocked.

" Well,it depends on the play." Winter said, as though Amanda should know this. " Wagner is very light theater, you know. Only a few hexes and broken bones. Shakespeare however...why, who could count the Hamlets and Desdemona's we've lost over the years!"

If Winter had one talent, it would be that she could deliver any line, no matter how ridiculous, and be so absolutely sincere, that no one, not even Eloise, could discern whether or not it was a truth or falsehood.

Therefore, Amanda pretended to think there was nothing unusual about actors being blown apart by hexes while in mid-performance, simply for the sake of a good show. If it were Winter's idea of a grand joke , she did not seem the least bit disappointed that her grand-daughter wasn't appalled.

By the time they reached home, Amanda was almost convinced that it might be true.

When they arrived back at Rookwood, Eloise had guests.

" This is Arthur Weasley." she announced. " Mr. Weasley, you know my sister, well, this is her grand-daughter, Amanda."

Amanda liked Mr. Weasley immediately. Perhaps it was that he too had red hair, and was unashamed of the fact. He was also friendly, and unlike the Wizards and Witches that Eloise had invited to her dinners, there was an air of absolute honesty about him.

He was there, with his assistant, on one of the Ministry's routine raids, and he explained to Amanda, after discovering that she was a Muggle, that the raids were required. So many Pureblood families were hiding illegal and black-market items, and using them to harm Muggles. His specific job was to ensure that these Wizards weren't tampering with Muggle artifacts, then allowing them to ' get loose' again.

" You would be surprised at all the deaths that occur because of this." He intoned soberly.

Of course, he didn't really believe that Eloise had anything in the house more dangerous than her temper, but he had no choice but to examine all the houses.

Amanda discovered that he took a great delight in Muggles, and she was grateful to him for this. It was the first time since her arrival that she had not felt the urge to hide her heritage from someone. She was so pleased with his questions, and his enjoyment of her answers, that she gave him her Magic 8 ball toy, which she had kept since childhood.

It amused her that a person capable of flying on brooms could be so enamored of a plastic, water filled toy. It puzzled him too, and she had no doubts that he would waste no time in cracking it open as soon as possible.

This was confirmed a week or so later, when she and Amele happened into him at Flourish and Blotts. Amele was buying books for her eldest son, Jules, who had developed a sudden interest in ogres.

Arthur Weasley was in the company of his wife, Molly, a charming little woman, and when he saw and recognized Amanda, he introduced them almost fervently. To her surprise, they both knew Amele.

" Do you know what was in that magic ball?" Arthur asked excitedly.

" Water?" she dared.

" Blue water. " he corrected. He then produced the plastic icosahedron formerly contained within the 8 ball. " And this mysterious object.

Very fascinating, and of a peculiar material. The construction inspired me to create my own, you see? I transfigured a simple galleon into a wooden shape, of the same form and weight, inscribed with new 'answers'. "

" And did it work?" she asked, curious.

" It did. " he confirmed. " I wanted to stay home and examine it further, but Molly needed a book."

His wife blushed, and held her book tightly against her ample bosom.

Amele laughed.

" Not another Lockhart book? How does he write them so fast, eh? How does he stay so pretty, with all those dangerous adventures I wonder, too, when I can't find time to mend my own robes? "

Molly looked indignant.

" I needed advice on doxies."

" Ah, Franchot was bitten by a doxie over the summer! It's very painful."

" Oh gracious, is he all right? "

" Ah yes. They all are. And how about your children?"

The two women began extolling on the virtues of hearth and home to the extent that Amanda felt overcome with the irrational desire to experience them herself.

She turned to Mr. Weasley, who was also beaming proudly at the mention of his numerous offspring.

" If I may ask, how did you extract that from the magic ball, without spilling the water?"

" Oh! I spilled the water. But I replaced it and mended the entire thing with a simple Reparo charm. Now I am going to carry this for luck. " he rubbed the plastic message piece. " Someday you will have to tell me more about Muggle toys."

She laughed.

" I will, if you promise to let me see the work you have done on the 8 ball."

" Oh, heavens, don't get him started!" Molly waved a hand. " He has crates overflowing with junk!"

" It isn't junk!" he protested. " It's part of my work."

Molly fixed him with a firm but affectionate stare, and he colored slightly.

" Well, it's very interesting junk." he mumbled.

" I'm sure that it is." Amanda said, smiling again.

Just then Amele's son Jules approached, carrying far too many books in his chubby arms.

" Look, mama! " he cried. " Ogres!"

" I see, ogres. Ah, and where are your brothers? Where is Franchot? And Where has the baby gone? Renee?" she turned around frantically for a moment, but discovered him under her robe hem, sucking his thumb and dozing.

Her other sons, Franchot and Arden appeared from behind a shelf, where they had been sharing a bag of Flavored Beans, being too young as yet to have much interest in books.

Amanda and Amele bid the Weasley's a good day, and herded Amele's children out into the street.

" It's too beautiful a day to go home. " Amele stated. " Can you look at that sky and know there are bad things in the world? " she shook her dark head.

" Let's have ice cream before we leave, yes? And you can tell me what you think of this Martin Ashwell your aunt keeps telling me about."

-----

Eloise described Martin Ashwell as a young, handsome and wealthy wizard from a good family. She seated Amanda beside him at every dinner.

Amanda described him differently, but only to herself, and she made a great effort to talk more to the person seated on her other side. This was usually Cosmo Wentwart, but occasionally his seat was filled by whatever available bachelor Eloise could scrape up.

Cosmo was dull. Horribly dull. To be the son of a great speaker, he was abnormally quiet, to the point of awkwardness. When he did speak, it was to defend the taste of eggplant over asparagus, or other mediocre culinary topics.He claimed to be the Wizarding World's only true connoisseur of eggplant--a fact that Amanda did not doubt.

Compared to Cosmo, Martin was very animated. He was also vain and petulant, and she suspected that in spite of his wealth, and his careful facade, he was possessed of only enough brains to eke by.

Whenever he laughed, he would lean forward, and on pretense of holding his napkin on his lap, he would slip his hand under the table and touch Amanda's leg. This she found irritating and degrading and began to keep her free hand in her lap at all times.

More than once she had to pinch him extremely hard, but he never desisted. Once he had even dared to hike her skirt up.

When she complained of this to Stella, her mother told her to embarrass him at the next dinner and then perhaps he would learn his lesson.

Amanda had done just that, though it went against all of her ideas of etiquette.

" Mr. Ashwell!" she had cried sharply during the first course, when, while laughing at a small something Cosmo had said, Martin had squeezed her knee.

" Could you kindly keep your hands to yourself, or seat yourself elsewhere?"

Everyone except Eloise and Martin had laughed. Eloise clearly did not approve of the outburst, and Martin did not like having his actions brought to everyone's attention.

Amanda had hoped he might leave her in peace after that, but to her dismay, he began calling on her in the afternoons. These visits had soon led Winter and Eloise to tease her about being courted.

Amanda did not know how far this rumor had spread, or how much of a stir it had caused. That someone of Martin's breeding should pay court to a half-blood at all was proof of Eloise's social status, and it had made many daughters of Good Families jealous.

Amele listened as Amanda told all. Then she produced a gossip page from one of the Witches magazines. It had short paragraph about Martin and his new found 'love'. With a grimace she returned the paper to Amele.

" Well, it isn't true. I suppose it is Aunt Eloise's way of helping me have fun. It isn't only Mr. Ashwell. There is also Cosmo Wentwart, Philo Fenwicke...and that other one, whose name I cannot pronounce. His first name is Jan. "

" Oh yes. Krysni...Krsiznk...Kryshwiz..."

" That's the one. He doesn't speak English too well, and I hate to see the other's laugh at him. He is much sweeter than Mr. Ashwell."

" Perhaps you should invite him around, yes? " Amele winked.

" No, Amele. I have no interest in men anymore. " she wondered if Amele would ask her why.

To her relief, she did not. She seemed to understand without asking, and only ate delicately at her ice cream.

After they were finished, and had stood to leave, Amele had placed a hand over Amanda's arm.

" I am very happy with Jean-Paul. " she said. " No one understood why I married him. I think you are like me, in that respect. When you find love, Amanda, it won't be where everyone else was looking. I don't believe it would be with a person such as Ashwell. JULES!! Don't hold your brother upside down! Well, he doesn't need to drink out of that! It's rainwater!"

Amanda smiled to herself, thinking of the emptiness she had felt when she loved Hannigan. No...she thought hollowly, it was better not to love at all.

When she returned that afternoon, Polly gave her Martin's card. It was charmed so that the letters scrolled out his name, and his message. He would be by at half past four.

He was preceded by the impromptu arrival of Mr. Ollivander. who arrived carrying before him a narrow wooden box. Polly showed him into the parlor, where Amanda was seated between Eloise and Winter, telling about her meeting with the Weasley's.

He presented the box to Amanda, and for a person reluctant to do the job, he seemed inordinately proud of his work. No wonder, she thought, as she carefully opened the box, and lifted the wand from it's resting place.

It was made of two woods, he announced, something he had never done before. The main body was made of the hawthorn she had chosen from the box. For the handle, he had created narrow horizontal bands of hawthorn, which he had alternated with wider bands of the second wood.

Taxodium distichum.

"Taxodium distichum." he told her, with something akin to a wink."Something from home."

The wand felt wonderful to hold. The woods were fit together so nicely, and the grains complimented each other. Not only was it pleasing to the eye, but the handle fit her hand perfectly, snugging into her palm like a smooth, warm egg.

" Hawthorn, nine inches, swishy."

" It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. " What is in it?"

" One centaur hair, centaurs are the creatures of observation. I don't usually use them...for the majority of the clientele. Also..." he turned to Eloise, who only raised a brow at him. He seemed to color slightly. " And one of your own hairs." he finished.

Amanda placed her hand to her head, as if she could feel the loss.

" I'm afraid that I took the liberty of unburdening you of that particular item. " Eloise admitted.

" I'm sure I won't miss it, " Amanda laughed. " But may I ask why?"

He explained that the wand was special, not only for it's artistic construction, but for what he had done to it magically. He put special emphasis on the fact that it would be considered illegal by the Ministry, not to mention dangerous. At this he gave a cutting look to Eloise.

A normal wand contained a magical substance, and a person possessed of magical abilities was capable of manipulating the power of this substance, with the use of certain words, into performing certain tasks.

Inside of this wand, a set of spells were housed. Programmed, to use a vulgar Muggle term.

Fifty-five of the most useful , common charms and spells. The wand was 'charmed' itself to perform any of these, whenever Amanda, and Amanda only, ( thus the use of her own hair) incanted the proper words. It's duty was for mostly light, 'around the house' magic, but also contained a few protection spells.

Both Ollivander and Eloise then emphasized the importance of discretion, and advised her not to use it in any way that might incur suspicion.

No one, except for themselves, and Amele, knew that Amanda could not use a real wand, and therefore would think nothing of seeing it. However the less often they did see it, especially if it were performing spells, the better. Some clever Witch or Wizard was bound to become suspicious.

Throughout the lecture, Amanda held the wand gingerly, running her thumb idly over the handle. She was in love with it already, but had some reservations about ever using it now. What had she done to deserve such a powerful, dangerous gift?

" ...a duelist." she woke from her reverie to hear the word 'duelist'.

" It has the basic spells, yes, But I wouldn't recommend-"

" I believe I can manage a dueling lesson. " Eloise said sharply.

"Have it your own way." he stated, rising. Under his breath, he added; " You always do."

" Well, can we at least have a demonstration? " Winter spoke for the first time.

Everyone looked to Amanda. For some reason, she felt as though she were a fraud.

It took her more than one try. She had to learn an elegant snap of the wrist, demonstrated by Eloise and Edward several times. When it was correct, the wand warmed pleasantly in her hand, and the box on the table rose easily. To all outward appearances, it would seem as though she were a normal witch performing a familiar and elementary spell.

" Fantastic!' Winter exclaimed. " Edward, it is truly a clever little invention. Worth quite a bit in some circles too, I would imagine. I shudder to think what something like that would do in the wrong hands."

" Let's hope, " he said coolly, "that we never find out."

Later Amanda would learn from Eloise that since the 'magic' in the wand actually came from Mr. Ollivander, he stood to lose everything should the wand be used incorrectly.

" Perfect." Eloise stated after Amanda settled the box shakily to the table once more. " Now Amanda,...Winter, if you will excuse us, it's time to discuss the ugly end of the purchase."

Amanda again thanked Mr. Ollivander for the wand, and hoped he understood that she had no intention of being careless with it. In fact, she intended to use it as seldom as possible.

She and Winter left the room together, only to cringe in the hall as they heard behind them, Eloise's brassy voice demanding;

" HOW much!!?? How much did you just SAY?"

Winter laughed heartily.

* * *

Nobody Till Somebody Loves You--Dean Martin 


	10. Chapter 10 The Law

_Don't talk of love,_

_But I've heard the words before;_

_It's sleeping in my memory._

_I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died._

_If I never loved I never would have cried._

_I am a rock,_

_I am an island._

_I have my books_

_And my poetry to protect me;_

_I am shielded in my armor,_

_Hiding in my room, safe within my womb._

_I touch no one and no one touches me._

_I am a rock,_

_I am an island._

* * *

--The Law--

Life settled soon, into a peaceful, boring thing. The winter season arrived, and everyone wore fur-lined cloaks, bright scarves, and gloves. Amanda learned how to successfully walk on icy cobblestones.

Eloise introduced her to dueling.

It had been her Aunt's passion once. She took Amanda to the attic where they rummaged through a trunk filled with old books and school uniforms from a bygone, moth-eaten day. Eloise produced Wizarding photographs of herself at the age of sixteen.

She had been very lovely. Slim and tall, with her dark hair french-braided down her back. Her dueling uniform was discovered in a charmed wardrobe. It was of pale blue, with white lace cuffs. It was a robe, but with a split front that was magically pressed back to reveal knee length trousers, and a faux shirtwaist.

Enviably, Eloise still fit easily into the suit, without having to so much as touch it with an altering charm.

They used one half of the attic, and Amanda enjoyed the sessions, even though she was really only learning the stance and appearance of a duelist. She was loathe to use the wand, feeling guilty about how much trouble Mr. Ollivander had gone through for her; and because she really did not _want_ to hex Aunt Eloise.

Eloise was merciless though. She insisted that Amanda perfect a deflecting charm at least, and she had no qualms about hexing her repeatedly. This was Amanda's first experience to the unpleasant and painful side of magic.

" Just remember, girl, that one day it might not be _me _across the room from you." Eloise said, as Amanda lay gasping on the floor.

It wasn't until Amanda succeeded in not only deflecting a hex from Eloise, but in getting so irritated that she used one in return, that Eloise relented and began to favor her with stories from her own dueling days. They seated themselves on the floor to rest. Eloise was still immaculate in her blue suit...Amanda however, was somewhat disheveled, the knees of her Muggle trousers were dusty from her many falls.

Eloise said that she had never been to Hogwarts. Being an advanced student from a more eccentric family, she was privately tutored at home, until the age of fifteen, when she went to live with her Aunt and Uncle.

" They owned a very small school dedicated to training duelists. My father allowed this, only as long as I received outstanding marks in my academics. I had to work very hard to keep up those marks, and still have time to practice. I had every intention of advancing to the professional league."

" What happened?'

" I...entered an illegal duel with another student. "

Amanda waited for her to continue.

" We had a disagreement. It quickly escalated into heated words, and she challenged me to a duel. Not a tournament duel, but an illegal duel. To the death. I felt I had to accept.'

" You were caught?"

" There was an accident. I deflected _her_ charm. I never cast one of my _own_, she simply... moved poorly. " Eloise said this sadly.

Amanda didn't ask what had happened to the girl, she could read it too clearly on Eloise's face.

" Afterwards, " her aunt sighed, " We, the others who had witnessed it, and myself...we disguised what we had done. Later I would feel badly for it, but at the time, I felt justified. I left the school afterwards, claiming I couldn't manage my studies and the dueling club. I was desperate to return to London, as my wand had been broken while deflecting her curse. You see, Edward repaired it...a very dangerous thing to do. He also erased it, which was a very _illegal _thing to do. He and i, and now you, are the only three who know about this, and it could get him into substantial amount of trouble."

" I wouldn't tell anyone!" Amanda swore. She wouldn't even know _how_ to tell someone, or whom to tell.

" I know. But it's important that no one suspects either. You see, I am most certainly not a truly nice person--"

" No one is. " Amanda interjected.

" No. That's true. But I feel it's better to be slightly honest with it. In getting Edward to fit you with an illegal wand, I did remind him about my wand, and how if he had done it once for me, he could do it once more.When that failed I'm afroad I became a little more unethical."

What Eloise was saying, was that she and Edward Ollivander had had a terrific row, in which she a threatened to turn he wand into the ministry if he did not comply to her wishes. Ollivander did not necessarily believe this, but he did know that if Eloise was serious enough to resort to blackmail--it might be best to simply make the wand.

" So for god's sake, Amanda, use it wisely." she finished. " I owe him that much."

Her great niece sighed into the still attic air. It was within reason that she should have been repulsed by her Aunt Eloise. She had killed someone! Her own aunt! So it had been an accident...did that make it less horrific? Amanda looked down at the wand clasped in her own hand, and tried to summon a feeling of repugnance for the barbarity of the Wizarding world.

It was no use. The wand, as if sensing her thoughts, began to tingle in her palm and the warm pleasure it afforded softened the edges of her conscience. Caressing it lovingly, she turned back to Eloise, who sat, waiting for Amanda's judgment. he girl merely stood and offered her aunt a helping hand.

" Well, it's early still. Shall we try once more?"

Eloise smiled.

There was more to this girl than met the eye.

They continued their lessons, and Amanda became quite good at casting two or three hexes, and very good at deflecting.

However,the months of January and February dragged by, and Amanda found herself occasionally missing her home. She missed her father as well, and now that the excitement of the move was behind her, this sorrow intensified.

During this time, she was unenthusiastic about dueling practice. She preferred to spend her time reading by the parlor fire, listening to the women talk and knit. It still disturbed her to see knitting being done with the aid of magic, but the sounds of the needles clicking in different tones was still comforting, and she began to fancy that each woman's needles resembled the voice of their owner. Whether this was true, or she was merely familiar with the difference, she did not investigate. She was satisfied with being able to discern, through the door, whose set of needles were at work.

Martin Ashwell visited less and less frequently, no doubt put off by Amanda' moroseness. Eloise still held a dinner or luncheon every so often, but he was never there.

Cosmo came every time.

Mr. Ollivander came once.

" Edward, I heard Elias was back from Italy?" Eloise prompted him at the table that night.

" Is he?" Edward replied lightly. " You know I never keep up with the gossip."

" I was hoping he had changed. If he were nice, I would invite him over to meet Amanda."

" I wouldn't know if he has changed." he said coolly.

Amanda had no chance to speak with Ollivander, to tell him how wonderful the wand was. He seemed slightly terse. In fact, _all _of Eloise's friends seemed slightly nervous about something . They fidgeted, and frowned. They spoke of politics with a slight edge in their otherwise merry voices. None of the dinners or parties had the same casual, flippant air that dinners and parties at Rookwood had before assumed.

None of the guest seemed the same bored, shallow guests they had been only a few months before. Even Philo Fenwicke, who rarely graced the scene, and seldom spoke when he did, became very animated. Unfortunately, Amanda could only follow the discussions to a certain point, usually because Cosmo, who had no interest in politics, was trying to explain to her the difference between eggplant grown in Chinese hothouses, to that of Italian eggplant grown using bloodmeal as fertilizer-and how certain cooking sherries could destroy the exquisite taste of either.

Because of just such a a conversation, Amanda had not heard the rest of what Eloise and Mr. Ollivander were discussing. She was curious to know about this Elias, and whether or not he was to be yet another of the suitors Eloise assembled for her. She was certain she could not bear another, and if her aunt insisted...she would join the nearest convent immediately.

" Who is Elias?" she finally got to ask after everyone had gone.

" Oh, that is Edward's son. " Eloise replied.' He---"

" You mean, he is _Dinah Blackmoor's_ son." Winter corrected. " Dinah has no intention of sharing the glory."

" Be civil, my sister. " Eloise laughed. " Elias _is _Edward's son. Winter is right though, Dinah took him away at a very young age. "

" Yeees..." Winter drawled, as if that explained everything.

" We haven't seen him too often, I'm afraid. The Blackmoor's always thought themselves just a little higher than everyone else."

" When you say, a little higher, of course you mean that Dinah thinks she has to look _down_ to pray." Winter piped, the effects of her wine causing her to be a bit silly and overly gesticulative.

" At least." Eloise agreed.

" I wonder what he looks like now? He was a very attractive young boy.Horrid, but _attractive_." Winter emphasized the attractive with a heavy breath.

" Well, he was only twelve or thirteen when _we_ last met him_. I _saw a glimpse of him several years ago, I don't recall where. He was with Dinah, but you would have mistaken him for Rebecca's son. He looked to be the very image of her...except with Edward's eyes, I believe. But just like Rebecca in the way he talked--you know."

Winter said something in what must be voice mocking this Rebecca.

Eloise, also slightly tipsy, laughed hysterically.

Amanda soon gave up trying to follow the conversation. the Wizarding world was too full of people, and she had not yet learned them all.

She had only been living in Rookwood for six months, after all. There was plenty of time to live and learn.

Or so she thought.

Near the end of February, everything changed. Amanda had come down for breakfast only to find the table in an uproar over some article in the newspaper. As the youngest in the house, she rarely ever saw the paper until it was already read, creased, and smudged by everyone else.

Patiently, she sat down to her plate, hoping to be included in the commotion. For awhile, she couldn't even get anyone to pass her the marmalade.

" Well, _I_ for one don't have to worry. " Agnes announced. " And I don't think it is _such _a bad thing. I _want_ to marry again.While I am still young."

" What I don't understand is why you divorced in the first place." Winter snapped.

" Earnest was very mean to me." Agnes said defensively.

" Oh, Agnes, what about me? " Demogene wailed. " What am _I_ to do?"

" You won't have to do a thing, Demogene." Eloise said in an unusually kind tone. " Its purpose is for strengthening the magical blood lines. "

" That's right. They don't want women who can't have _children_." Agnes added maliciously.

Demogene ducked her head. It was true, that whereas Agnes had given birth twice, Demogene had never once been able to conceive, even though Eloise had even sent her to some of the best medical facilities in the world.

" You may remain here with us Demogene, and do as you please." Winter soothed, patting Demogene's bony shoulder.

'' I don't understand..." Stella joined. " Why are they doing this? I thought Wizards have been marrying Muggles and half-bloods for years."

" This isn't simple urging people to _consider_ their bloodlines. " Eloise explained." This...this is a _breeding_ program. See the names on the list? Notice that they are all either wealthy, powerful, talented, useful, or famous Wizards and Witches? Notice too that they are _specifically _targeting men and women who are older, hoping to get a few good years out of them before they die or pass their childbearing age."

" We have been expecting this for some time. " Winter admitted. " We were hoping that our Minister for Magic would not allow it to pass. "

" Yes...but..._my_ name is on there!" Stella exclaimed." I don't want to marry again! This...affects _us_!" she indicated the entire household with a sweeping hand.

" Yes your name is there. But...I thought you had some Muggle surgery that prevents children ?" Winter asked, in a puzzled voice.

" Well, I had a hysterectomy."

" Well, then we have to contact the Ministry and have you removed from the list."

Amanda sighed in relief. Agnes would be married off, but Stella would remain with her. Praise Muggle surgery.

" Besides, they grant one year to widows. But only eight months to widowers. _That's_ a little unfair. "

" Now, do they have a list of the...others?" Winter asked.

" No.Well, there is the registry, but there aren't any specific names."

" What about Amanda?" asked Stella.

Amanda paused, her cup halfway to her mouth as all the eyes at the table turned to her. What about me? She thought.

" Yes, Amanda...do you have any questions?"

" I...no. I don't think so. Well, yes. I don't fully understand what this is about. "

Agnes snorted.

" Why am I not surprised? " she muttered.

" I understand it's a marriage law." Amanda shot a stern look at her cousin." Aimed at certain people. But I don't understand for what _purpose_.Nor do I know.._yet_..the extent of the law."

Agnes glared at her.

Family trees, bloodlines, and gossip were Winter's forte, and she gladly began a narrative, in hopes of forestalling a battle between the two younger women.

" You see, the pure-bloods have exclusively been marrying _only_ pure-bloods for centuries. That makes for a _very_ weak bloodline. Not only are their children fewer, and more sickly, but the decrease in magical abilities has become appallingly dangerous. If they continue at this rate, their lines will completely die out. "

Amanda nodded.

" Now, the Ministry has passed this law which at the the moment requires a certain number of pure-bloods to marry, and they have to marry half-bloods, Muggleborns, or squibs. They are hoping this will reverse the deterioration process. "

" What happens if a person should refuse?"

" A Wizard or Witch loses their right to the Wizarding world. Anyone else, well, there are several possibilities. They say that they will simply be deported, but I imagine that with the right amount of money in the right hands, they could be arrested, Obliviated, and either sent back to live with Muggles, or given to the petitioner. " Eloise shrugged. " I told you, Wizards can be ruthless people."

" _Anyhow_..." Winter said impatiently. " The law is no longer a rumor, it is in effect. Amanda, you need to know that it is very probable that any day now _you _may begin receiving petitions."

" I don't want to marry."

" Well, I myself would rather see you safely married as soon as possible to a reliable person, before the petitioning grows ugly. However, at the moment you are at perfect liberty to leave country. " Eloise said. " You are on the registry though, and they may notice if you disappear. Even _I_ don't know how far reaching there spy network is.If they are truly that serious, then running might only serve to infuriate them. "

Amanda sat back in her chair, slightly breathless.

Leave the Wizarding world? Did she _want _to do that? She was not really a _part_ of it, but she was not a part of the world out _there _either. Where would she go? Back to Louisiana? It seemed so far away now. Too saturated in unpleasant memories--and how could she return to the Muggle world knowing that there was a Wizarding world? An uncomfortable thought occurred to her--what if they decided to Obliviate her before letting her return? That's what _she _would do, to protect a secret world...but she did not like the idea one bit of losing part of her memories.

" What about you, mother?" she asked, suddenly.

Stella looked surprised.

" I...well, I suppose I will stay here. This is my home...I don't want to have to leave it so soon."

Amanda bit her lip. On one hand, there was exile from her mother, grandmother and the home that she had come to love. On the other hand was the probability of being married to someone she didn't know. Perhaps someone she did not like, or who was cruel.

" Well, what would the advantages be?" she asked lightly.

The other women considered.

" Well, there is the possibility of _money_." Eloise said.

" Prestige. " Agnes volunteered.

" Protection." Winter agreed.

" Children." Demogene said sadly.

" And maybe even love. " Stella finished, earning a disdainful look from Amanda.

" Think on it. You will need to come to a decision within a few days, even if nothing comes of it, you'll be prepared to make a decision. If you decided to leave, we will of course help you make the necessary arrangements."

They each turned again to their cold breakfast, lost in thoughtful contemplation.

* * *

I Am a Rock--Simon/Gafunkel 


	11. Chapter 11 Why, Amanda!

_**What a dream I had:**_

_**Pressed in organdy;**_

_**Clothed in crinoline of smoky burgundy;**_

_**Softer than the rain.**_

_**I wandered empty streets**_

_**Down past the shop displays.**_

_**I heard cathedral bells**_

_**Tripping down the alley ways,**_

_**As I walked on.**_

_**And when you ran to me**_

_**Your cheeks flushed with the night.**_

_**We walked on frosted fields of juniper and lamplight,**_

_**I held your hand.**_

_**And when I awoke and felt you warm and near,**_

_**I kissed your honey hair with my grateful tears.**_

_**Oh I love you, girl.**_

_**Oh, I love you.--**_

* * *

**--Why, Amanda!--**

Amanda chose, after many days of reflection, to take her chances with the Wizarding world. She would wait. With luck, she thought, she could easily be forgotten. Surely there must be thousands of Muggle-borns, squibs, half-bloods...and just ordinary Muggles as well. She hoped the Ministry wold forget completely about her, or all the pure-bloods would be married long before anyone got around to her name.

This hope was dashed in mid-march, when the Ministry, deciding things were not progressing rapidly enough, published a list of all half-bloods, Muggleborns, and squibs living in Great Britain.

Amanda's name was listed directly beneath Agnes' for the Rookwood family.

She never saw the pure-blood name list, but Winter told her new names were being added to it daily. In the original draft, the time allowance was set for one year, but a hasty revision shortened it to three months, after seemingly every pure-blood wizard had decided to wait out the law, hoping no doubt that the entire idea would be scrapped before the deadline.

Many of them continued to waste their time fighting the Ministry, counting on a bluff. Sixteen Wizards had their wands broken at the end of March, and after that, there was a mad scramble to find and marry any available person.

For this reason, Amanda found herself seated once more in the parlor with Martin Ashwell. Martin made no secret about his intentions. He had returned from what he called "a vacation in Milan" when he heard of the law, and wasted no time in calling on Amanda.

For the last few days he had been to the house daily, and though he had been a perfect gentleman so far, there was a noticeable desperation in all of his actions.

_Especially_ in his attempts to impress her with his compassion and sincerity.

He spent every visit complaining about the law, and how unjust it was. At last Amanda confronted him on this issue.

" Why are _you_ so worried about the about the law? _Your _name isn't on the list." usually a person who strove to be patient and polite with everyone...even persons she did not like, Amanda could not always find in herself to be either, with Martin.

Martin did not approve of being interrupted, and his smile tightened quickly.

" But _you_ are. I've wanted you ever since you came to be Eloise's-came to Eloise's house." he said coolly. " Let's just say that I don't want to see you and all of your charms, on another Wizard's plate. "

Amanda's mouth opened slightly. That was somewhat less than romantic, and if he were trying ot convince her of his love, to which he professed daily--then he had failed. She suddenly wished she could detect his true intentions.

" Charms? " she prompted. " Mr. Ashwell, I don't _believe_ I understand."

Her Grandmother Garrett's training surfaced in her as she leaned slightly towards, him, half lowered her lashes, and allowed her true accent to become more pronounced. Perhaps if she played the roll of a clueless flirt, he would explain.

He recoiled slightly, and she barely restrained a smile. Standing, he began to pace, his fingers in his hair.

" You see, my father and I...we don't get along, Amanda. He wants to cut me from the family inheritance. But, he has conceded that if I marry, he'll welcome me back. "

Amanda continued to stare at him, waiting.

" And as far as brides go, you are" he seemed to search for a flattery that did not taste bad. "...acceptable."

" Because of the Ministry's law?" she asked, softly raising a brow. He frowned at her feigned coquetry, not understanding.

" Well, yes. It might come into full effect some day, and I might as well be prepared now. With _your _money and my share of _father's _money, I--we--could live very well."

" My money? I don't have any money!" she declared, with a puzzled smile.

At first, a look of anger crossed Martin's face, then he threw back his head and laughed at her.

" _You_ don't have any money! Ha ha! Tell that to someone who doesn't know _Eloise_. She is richer than a goblin."

" That is Eloise's money. Not mine." she began to fan herself, fighting down the flush of irritation.

" So I suppose you aren't her heir? is that what you are trying to convince me of, or has she changed her mind since December?"

Amanda narrowed her eyes.

" _Perhaps_ it was a decision that _I _was not privy to."

" Perhaps. Look, Amanda, let's not waste any more time. I want you to marry me."

" I'm sorry, Martin, but I just don't believe I am ready for that."

" Not ready? If we wait much longer, it could be too late. "

" No, what I mean is, I don't think I want to marry you." she peered closely at him, then added; " I know I don't!"

His smile remained in place, as he blinked rapidly.

" Why?" he asked, stupidly.

She was struck with the similarities between Hannigan and Ashwell. Both wanted something from her other than her affection. She was aware at how both were handsome. Hannigan with his inky hair and true, flag blue eyes had been the taller, more athletic man. Martin Ashwell, with his short, dark blonde hair and hard black eyes was more slim and poised. Yet they both gazed at her as though thinking of something else. When they smiled, it was only because they knew women found them charming.

Suddenly, they both made her sick. She didn't want to see either of them again; with their white even teeth, their strong jaws, and cold greedy hearts. She felt hatred rising in her throat.

" I think you should go now!" she said loudly.

Disbelief flickered for a moment in his eyes. It was followed by an angry haze. He sat down again.

" Amanda, you are not being reasonable." he said in a strained voice.

" No, but am trying to be polite." she answered, sweetly.

" You can't refuse me like this! We...no, _you_ are being ridiculous! We have been practically engaged for the last few weeks. Everyone expects us to marry, it only stands to reason!"

He sounded almost petulant.

She chose not to point out to him that she had never entertained thoughts of marrying him, and had never encouraged him in his courtship. She had merely withstood his ' friendly visits' for Eloise's sake.

She didn't even _like_ him!

She had already told him the last three visits that she would not accept his petition, yet he had the audacity to disbelieve her. The try to chide her and coax her as if she were a small child.

When she did not speak, only frown at him, he stood once more, and began rubbing his hair. Why did he have to rub his hair? It was annoying, and made his palms oily.

" At least give me a reason why?" he prodded.

" Why? Why indeed!" she said, losing her temper. " I'll give you some why's.Why must everyone be so selfish? Why do you persist when I say I am uninterested? _Why do I have to explain myself_?!"

He contemplated the fire for a moment. She hoped he was deciding to leave.

Instead, he leaned toward her.

" I believe," he began, his voice carefully controlled, yet teasing." That living with all of these old ladies has made you a bit priggish. If I were to say...kiss you, you would _see_ how much I care for you."

" Don't you dare-" she began.

He lunged at her suddenly, and she dodged the assault, so that his kiss was deflected, open-mouth to her cheek.

" Don't do that!." she exclaimed in irritation, pushing him away.

He tried once more, and this time she pushed him hard enough that he slipped on the rug, and fell to one knee.

" I am serious." she warned, wondering if this was the time and place to use her wand.

Exasperated, and very angry, he rose and seized her chin roughly. He squeezed, and shook her harshly. Tears sprang to her eyes.

" Do NOT turn your face away from me again, dammit!" he again dove for her mouth, and had just brushed her lips when she wriggled forcefully from beneath him. Leaping to her feet she slapped him when he turned to face her. A nice resounding slap that echoed like a gunshot and stung her palm.

' OUT! OUT! OUT! " she shouted. " Get out of this house!!! I understand it all now. You just want me because you think I have an inheritance!"

" Maybe you are right!" he sneered in return. His fist was now curled around his wand. Too late, she realized she hadn't seen him draw.

" And just maybe it isn't _enough _money! You think you are too good for me? For an Ashwell? Well, I have news for you, your Aunt would have to pay me ten thousand galleons to bed a filthy little mudblood like you! Go on and marry one of those others. Fenwicke? Wentwart? have you already given your affections to one..or both of them..you little sl--"

" Get out of this house, before I scream for help. " she said, coolly, before he could finish the ugly word poised on his tongue.

He whipped the wand up level with her eyes, and laughed.

" You'll be dead before you open your mouth."

Unexpectedly, and probably quite stupidly, Amanda rushed him. Ducking her head, she charged him, and he was caught off guard by the sudden, low attack. He made a bellowing exclamation as her head connected with his midriff. He stumbled backwards, instinctively trying to avoid falling into a table of Eloise's bric-a-brac. His arms flailed comically, and one of his fists connected unintentionally with Amanda's cheekbone.

She reeled against the mantle, blinded.

" Amanda! I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you...here, let me help you to sit down. We should calm ourselves. " he tried to take her arm, only to have her shake him off.

Taking a great breath to clear her head, she waved him away.

" Mr Ashwell..._leave_. I will _not_ marry you. Your not worth my time."

Furious, he shoved her, and she fell into the fireplace tools. She didn't let him see how much that hurt. Snatching up his cloak, he marched across the parlor, and into the foyer. Eloise had wards to prevent Apparation in the house, and parsimoniously kept her Floo powder locked away. therefore, everyone had to come and go via the front door.

" I am warning you Amanda, I _won't _forget this. I know people, and I hold long, nasty grudges. You will regret this day...if you live long enough. " he threw at her coldly.

He stormed out into the rain, and Disapparated immediately, not bothering to close the door.

Still shaking her head, Amanda rose to her feet and stumbled to the door, meaning to close and lock it. She found herself soothed and cooled by the low wind and soft, spraying rain. Vaguely , she noted that the spray was reaching the parlor door, and ruining Aunt Eloise's prize carpets.

She stepped out into the street, and closed the door.

Looking up and down the street, she saw Witches and Wizards; hustling and bustling about their daily business. The rain did not bother them. Some wore hats. Others cloaks with decorative hoods. Some carried colorful umbrellas, and others simply used charms to deflect the raindrops.

Amanda had none of these things. Only her own hair, which was darkening from the water, and falling unheeded from it's simple knot.

Putting a hand up to shield her eyes, she began walking. Down the street towards the corner. She wasn't going anywhere in particular. She just needed time to think, and the rain seemed to wash away Martin's unclean touch.

Ashwell would be angry now, and he might try to do something foolish. She wondered how seriously she should take his threat. Would he dare oppose Eloise? She thought he might.

What should she do? She wanted to stay, but if she didn't know how far he would go to get even. She didn't want him to decide to harm her mother or relatives just for the sake of avenging his pride. But, would her mother be any safer if she left?

" I'd miss her. I'd miss them all dreadfully. " she thought. " What will I do?"

She had no training, to speak of. Her main qualification was that she could become a music instructor, and give piano lessons. That might keep her until she discovered some other, more profitable means of employ.

Even as she assured herself, she felt a great despair settle on her. She did not want to leave. This was her home, through blood. She had dreamed of it, longed for it. Raised on Stella's stories, she had come to believe it was the only place she could ever be happy.

She had contented herself with merely being " Estella's unmarried daughter." Eloise's ' spinster niece.'

An ugly thought crept into her mind. Would it be worth marrying Ashwell, just to be able to live here peacefully?

No_...not_ him. Someone strong enough to defend against him though. Cosmo, perhaps. It would be...like not being married at all. Yes...she would have to be very nice to Cosmo, or maybe even Jan. He was single at the moment.

She began rehearsing what she would say to Cosmo the next time Eloise invited him over. No_, I'll_ invite him over. I must take the initiative, I'm afraid, she thought to herself. What could she say to interest him? Something culinary.

Oh _fie_! Maybe Philo. At least he read books. She could simply say; ' Excuse me, Mr. Fenwicke, but have you read--'

She collided with a pedestrian.

' Oh, excuse me..." she mumbled, trying to wipe tears and rain and mascara from her eyes.

" Miss _Garrett?" _a familiar voice inquired.

She peered up through her scraggly hair.

" Oh...Mr. Ollivander!" she exclaimed, surprised . It had been several weeks since he had last been at Rookwood. "Oh..forgive me for running over you like that, I got your suit wet, and everything."

She was miserable and embarrassed, and her accent was very strong. He quirked a smile at it.

" That's perfectly all right, but what on earth are you _doing_ out here in this weather without so much as an _umbrella_?" he stepped close and held his own formal black umbrella so that it shielded her as well.

" I...had to step out for a moment and clear my thoughts. I didn't notice how heavy the rain had become. " she lied. She ducked her head so that he couldn't see the nervous twitch under her left eye. It always twitched when she lied.

She felt his piercing scrutiny all the same, and flushed.

" Well, if you are refreshed enough, allow me to walk you home. " he said gruffly. " Before you catch your death." he added.

" Well, thank you, but I wouldn't want to be any trouble. I'm already wet, it wont hurt me to walk back in the rain."

" It's no trouble at all." he said sternly.

She took his arm so that they could walk side by side under the umbrella. The last of her fury with Martin was beginning to fade, leaving her cold. She tried to hide her teeth chattering, but she was certain he heard them.

After a few paces, he spoke.

" Forgive me for saying so, but you seem a little out of sorts today. Is anything the matter?"

Amanda gave a small sigh. She wouldn't usually be so blunt to someone of such short acquaintance, but she felt the need for some outside advice.

" Yes. It's this marriage law."

" Hmmph. Funny you should mention that little scrap of inconvenience. I was just on my way to take up a petition with your Aunt."

He was going to petition for Aunt Eloise? That thought, though not unreasonable, was very amusing,and Amanda had to turn away to hide a small smile.

He must have seen, though, as he hastily corrected her assumption.

" This law has been a possibility for some time, and well...we made arrangements some time ago that if it were truly passed...then I should simply petition for your cousin, Agnes."

"Agnes!!" Amanda echoed with incredulity.

" Yes."

Amanda slowed her pace, trying to imagine such a thing. It was _horrible!_ A terrible thing to do to a person!

Why would _anyone_ want to marry _Agnes_?

" You still haven't said what brought _you_ out into the rain." he prompted, interrupting her thoughts.

She swallowed the unpleasant thought of her cousin's sharp, abusive voice, and whining self-pity.

" Mr. Ollivander, do you by any chance know a Mr. Martin Ashwell?"

" Young mister Ashwell, I presume? Yes, I know of him. Let me see. Oak, thirteen inches, inflexible, manticore blood A very unusual wand."

" Yes I saw it. He brandished it at me. It's a beautiful wand."

" Well, it's a dangerous one as well!" he cried. " Why would he do that? You weren't dueling were you?"

" I didn't even have my wand in my hand! He surprised me; he was very angry."

" Yes, well, I can guess the nature of his visit."

" Petitioning."

" Miss Garrett, allow me to speak as a friend." he said, voice lowered.

" Of course."

" I wouldn't advise accepting anything from Mr. Ashwell. He and his father are both notorious gamblers, and rumor has it that the elder Mr. Ashwell has just succeeded in losing nearly his entire fortune. Just enough to keep up appearances, but they will be growing desperate soon. I would speculate that he is more interested in Eloise's money than in you."

Amanda nodded gravely.

" I turned him down. You are correct. As soon as I convinced him that I was in earnest...he said Eloise would have to pay him ten thousand galleons to be-I mean, to _marry_ a mudblood like me."

She watched his face for a reaction. Of course he knew she was half-blood, but she wasn't certain anymore where anyone stood on the issue.

" You say he became angry." he asked, showing no emotion one way or the other for her status.

" Yes. He tried a bit of force. "

He halted suddenly, and turned to her. Gently, he lifted her chin, and regarded her face.

"Is _that _what caused these marks?"

She touched her face.

" Are there _marks_? I didn't notice. " she winced as her fingers found the darkening bruise on her cheek. " I was very upset."

" As you _should_ be." he said coolly, thinking personally how he would like to treat Ashwell, for being such a cad.

They resumed walking. She began to get a small idea in her mind. Just a seed, a tiny thing.

" I know in reason that Aunt Eloise handpicked him, but I never liked him. She'll be disappointed I suppose."

" I am sure she just allowed the family name to cloud her reason temporarily. She will understand."

" Perhaps. She said she wanted me safely married, but since the law was enacted, he was the only one to offer a petition. I don't know if I should stay and wait for someone else. He threatened me, and I am afraid if I stay he might do something terrible to the others."

" Where would you go?"

" America, I suppose," she said. The front door was approaching, and she felt a great sinking feeling. She had hoped that somehow, her trouble would have resolved itself before she returned home. She had hoped...no that was impossible. It was too presumptuous to burden someone else with her sorrows.

He seemed also to be reluctant to enter the house. They halted at the door, and faced each other silently. Amanda looked at the ground. It was too painful to look at the world.

He looked up at the windows. To where he imagined Agnes' rooms to be, and grimaced. He thought of his shop, filled with Agnes' brassy voice. Agnes bullying the customers, or knocking the wands about carelessly.

He looked again to Amanda's forlorn face, and dejected shoulders, as she reached for the brass doorknob.

" A moment, Miss Garrett" he said impulsively, placing a staying hand over hers on the knob. " I was just thinking..."

But he couldn't say more.

" Yes?" It came out softly and expectantly.

" I...well...I know this is a very sudden thing to ask, and not a little awkward. No! Never mind. It's _absurd_." he released her hand.

Amanda looked up gently from under her wet lashes.

" Please ask. If it is...what I imagine it to be, I...I won't be disinclined..."

" And if it _isn't _what you imagine?" he asked, aware of how precarious life was becoming.

" Then I make no promises."

He drew in a breath. He had to ignore certain facts. He had to be neutral.

" I believe...that we could both come to an agreement. I mean, I have no binding commitments, and you...well, it could be a marria-ah, a matter of convenience. " they both winced. " After the...never mind..."

What in the world was he doing? Had he gone completely mad, to think this young lady would wish to ally herself to him, even for the sake of survival? It wasn't as though she didn't have any other options.

He had just opened his mouth to apologize, when she smiled. It was a disarming smile. She had such a lovely heart shaped face, he thought. And her hair had now fallen completely from it's holding and was being blown by the wind.

" I would like that. I think I would like it _very_ much." she stated. He looked surprised. Even wary.

" But what about Agnes?" she asked, worried again.

For the briefest second, she saw in his eyes the devil he must have been in his youth. Something like a smile came to his mouth.

' I am certain she will find it in herself to forgive me." he said, drily. " But all jesting aside, you may consider it an offer. Another choice, if you like. But think seriously on it. The bonding ceremony will be permanent, _even_ if the law is repealed. "

She nodded.

" I understand. Personally, I think it would be an agreeable arrangement. For myself. But what about you? I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. I...wouldn't want anyone to do something for me that they might regret later."

Amanda was sincere. It was easy to think of herself. The prospect of remaining in England, in the Wizarding world, with her closest relations, was exciting, and preferable, of course to returning alone to America. The happiness would be irreversibly clouded however, if she thought, if she suspected, that her intended husband might be miserable. Or in danger. There was, after all Martin's threat to consider.

Edward wanted to believe in her.

He too, stood to lose a great deal. With the loss of his magic, would come the loss of his shop. This would be like losing a limb, and eye. The shop, his art, had been the love of his life. The very center of his world. He loved it, and without it...he would die.

Not ten minutes ago, he had stood on the edge of a decision. Dreading the idea of stepping across Eloise's threshold because if he did, he would leave permanently fettered to Agnes. Agnes, who was, at best, a shrew. The very thought of her invading his shop caused him to shudder.

And here now,as though Fate had deftly intervened, was Amanda Garrett, doing nothing less than offering herself instead. Why?

For their mutual benefit of course. They neither of them wanted to leave behind their lives, and neither of them were facing much better prospects. Why shouldn't he be relieved?

From personal experience, he knew women could be unpredictable creatures, but that wasn't the whole reason for his slight hesitation. As soon as Amanda had uttered that last line, and bitten her lip in thought, he had felt all that was masculine in himself swell to the surface.

He would be jealous if he had her. He would always be wondering what she was doing. Where she was going. She would go out with friends, enjoying such entertainments as young women pursued. She would flirt, and be flirted with. How long before she regretted her choice?

He suddenly saw many reasons to discourage her, and to withdraw his offer. Before it was too late.

Yet despite this, he found himself saying, as though he had no control over his own tongue;

" I would not have offered, if the idea was abhorrent to me."

" Likewise, I would not have encouraged nor accepted. Only..." she frowned.

" Yes?"

" It's only...well, I am still worried about Mr. Ashwell. Am I being ridiculous? "

" It's good to be cautious. But Eloise and Winter are very capable witches. And if I may say so myself, I am not unskilled with a wand."

She blushed.

They stood for a moment longer.

" Well...does this make it official? " he asked, at last.

" Why...yes, I suppose it does. " she felt a sudden elation course through her. She was going to be married. And suddenly, it seemed to be the most natural even in the world! She regarded him with awe.

" How do we proceed? " she asked.

" With caution." he looked pointedly at Eloise's house. " If...if it is official, if you are certain, then I must talk to your aunt. Because you live in her house, she is your guardian. Then your mother and grandmother as your kinswomen. We negotiate the petition. "

" What do I do?" she asked, breathlessly.

He was not by nature, a spontaneous sort of person. However, he suddenly had the urge, not inexplicable, to seal their engagement. It was a test, as well, of her sincerity.

Taking her arm without warning, he turned her toward him, and kissed her.

It was meant to be just a swift peck. If he had seen how violently she had reacted to Martin's attempt at a kiss, he might not have dared _that _much! However if he had seen the struggle earlier, he also would have ceased doubting her--for this time she did not struggle or strike.

Instead, she gave a surprised gasp, and gripped his coat sleeve. That, and the discovery that her lips were soft and warm, tempted him to linger just a moment longer. She unconsciously pressed closer, rising slightly on her toes.

" MARY AMANDA _GARRETT_! I DEMAND to know just WHAT is going _on _out here!!""

Guiltily they separated, and turned to find themselves face to face with Eloise, who was standing in the door, wand in hand, and a look of absolute, horrified disbelief twisting her usually handsome face.

* * *

For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her--Simon/Garfunkel 


	12. Chapter 12 Petition

_Strangers in love must a star fall from the sky  
It's stranger than most and stranger when we try  
to understand it all, why we fall,  
As strangers in love,_

_Strangers in love.  
Straight from the farm and a world apart and ready for-  
Someone to take her arm, she's never seen a movie  
What an innocent face, what an innocent place._

_It's natural, it's an easy thing to do,  
Natural, it's an easy thing to do.  
Strangers in love and a star fell from the sky  
Don't know which way to turn, don't know which boat to burn  
Don't know which way to turn, don't know which boat to burn._

_Strangers in love._

* * *

--Petition--

Neither of them had heard Eloise open the door. She had come into the parlor to invite Martin to stay for tea, only to find the room empty. Assuming that Amanda might have shown him out, if he had decided to leave, she had stepped into the entryway hoping to call them back.

Seeing through the sidelight, a strand of Amanda's recognizable hair blowing, she had sneaked to the door in hopes of at last discovering Amanda and Martin on friendly terms. Too say that she was startled by what she _did _see, would be a drastic understatement.

" Get into the house IMMEDIATELY!!" she ordered, her face grey and verging on the outbreak of extreme negative emotion. " _You too_, Edward Ollivander! In _here_!"

She pointed at the parlor floor where she wanted them to stand, and then pulled them both through the door, and slammed it shut behind the two guilty looking persons.

" In the _street_! Of all the...Amanda, I...I thought you...I thought you had been _taught better_!!" she sputtered. " and...just what is this all about? I left you on cool terms with Martin Ashwell, and return not ONE HALF HOUR later to find you...you..." she couldn't quite bring herself to finish her sentence. Her eyes darkened by emotion, looked like brown saucers.

Amanda was still glowing inside from her first kiss. Her first true kiss. Hannigan had not kissed her. Martin had tried...but that was so long ago, wasn't it? No, it was only an hour ago.

She had enjoyed this kiss, and in that too brief moment of it's occurrence, she had almost fallen in love. Wasn't that odd, she wondered? She couldn't even be ashamed.

Seeing that Amanda was impervious, Eloise rounded on Edward. " _You _ought to be ashamed too. Are you?"

" Not particularly." he admitted.

" Well...you _should_ be. _Kissing_ people right in the street. Everyone was _gaping._ I'll never live down the scandal!"

Edward ignored her, and turned to Amanda, who was watching him with a strange expression.

" My _dear_," his deliberate use of the endearment caused Eloise to snap her teeth shut around whatever she was about to say. " Could you please excuse us? Eloise and I have much to discuss. And.." he caught her hand before she could step out of reach. " if you are still inclined, please ask Winter and Estella to join us."

" Of course." Amanda said, removing her hand with slight reluctance. She felt a wicked pleasure in Eloise's distress. Earlier, she had been remarkably angry at her aunt for matchmaking her with Martin Ashwell. And for dangling an inheritance behind her back, as though she were too undesirable for anyone to want otherwise.

That anger had dissipated, as soon as she had seen Eloise. She had unwittingly shocked and hurt her aunt. But she felt that at the same that by making a decision for herself, she had also gained a step toward earning her aunt's respect.

Or she would, at least, after Eloise could breathe again.

" Oh...Edward!" Eloise groaned as Amanda stepped out of the door. " Tell me that this isn't happening! Tell me it isn't what I think?!"

" Prepare yourself Eloise...I am about to petition for Amanda's hand."

Amanda hurried to find her mother and grandmother. They were both in the sewing alcove, arguing over a crochet pattern.

It was not like Amanda to interrupt, or to be in such a fluster, so when she began telling them everything, breathlessly, they were concerned. She held a hand to her throat, and her teeth were still chattering, making it difficult to understand a word she was saying.They made her slow down and repeat the whole story.

As soon as Winter _did_ grasp what was being said, she dropped her yarn into the basket at her feet.

" Edward _Ollivander_!?" she was one of those strange people who smiled, even when she was angry or upset, so Amanda couldn't determine how she felt. " are you _serious_, child?"

Amanda nodded fervently.

" Oh..." Winter clapped her hands to her cheeks. " is Edward in the parlor with Ellie? _Alone_?"

Again, Amanda nodded,

Winter's eyes, met Stella's, and Winter began hurrying for the door.

" Oh, she'll be simply furious! I better go rescue him. Come along shortly, Stella!"

After Winter left, Stella took Amanda's hands...searching her face, while expressing herself neither approval, nor disapproval. Amanda's eyes were wide.

Estella tilted her head first to the left, then to the right. Then she took her touched Amanda's cheek, examining the marks.

" Martin?" she asked.

" Yes..." Amanda winced as her mother touched her blackening eye. Stella frowned.

" It was an accident...that he hit me, mother." she said. Her eye twitched slightly. That wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely false, either. " He did take my chin and shake me, though."

" Here, let me ease it. We can't have you beginning your engagement with big bruises on your pretty face." she took out her wand and aimed it at Amanda's face. She flinched, still uncomfortable with having healing spells aimed at her.

" Are you angry with me?" she asked, quietly.

" No." her mother answered truthfully. " Just surprised. Naturally. In my opinion...even a radish would be a better companion than Martin Ashwell. I just don't want you to marry because of a law Amanda. If you change your mind, if you want to leave instead, don't tie yourself down. I'll even go with you, if that's what you really need."

Amanda smiled, and embraced her mother.

" I don't believe now that I can leave.' she admitted." And...I have the strangest feeling, that this is what I am _supposed_ to do."

Stella, smiled.

" That sounds like something your father would say! Trusting to gut feelings..." she shook head. " Well he was unusually lucky with his feelings, maybe you are as well. But please, go change into a dry dress...and wipe that silly smile off of your face, child. You look tipsy." Stella gave her wry smile and started to leave. " Oh, and you aren't allowed to come down until after the negotiations, I'm afraid."

She paused to give Amanda the chance to change her mind, but Amanda was decided. She gave her a small wave, and turned to follow Winter down the stairs.

Amanda was left alone, wondering how her life could have changed so dramatically, in so short a time. She was sure she had discerned a sort of tightness in Stella's expression--and no wonder, This was remarkably sudden. She couldn't explain why she herself felt so calm about it, except that it was sudden. Tomorrow, she thought, I might be nothing short of devastated. Oh well... It will be too late by then, she thought, as she went into her room,and locked the door.

While a hot bath was pouring, she went to her record cabinet. She chose something old, and comforting, dropped it onto the turntable and set the needle. When the music began, she adjusted the volume to where it couldn't be heard downstairs, and she couldn't hear anything over it's grainy, mellow lyrics.

Stripping out of her wet clothes, and sinking chin deep into the foaming water, she began to contemplate herself.

In her old world, people sat down to watch television. In the new world, wizards stood to watch Quidditch. Amanda had to satisfy herself with watching people, for she was neither a Muggle, nor a wizard.

She belonged to both worlds, and yet to neither, and had to be at all times her own self, and belong wholly to herself as well.

She had kept what she liked best from her own world, her records, her sheet music, and her stories; the Muggle fiction which had accompanied her through her dreamy childhood and into her young romantic womanhood.

She also shed all that she did not like, like a garden snake shrugging off it's old skin, only to dress in the scales of another species.

She left behind trinkets, and television, and milkshakes and board games, and showers, and acquired in their place fans and gloves, and real quills with ink that dripped if you weren't perfectly careful.

Between the pages of old books, in the patterns of old lace, in the gleam of polished antiques, and the ticking of heirloom clocks, Amanda had found a lost part of her self.

An old part of herself that had been lost between lives. Not that she thought of it as reincarnation, in her mind; she was merely aware that she had always been wondering and wandering, through the world and her mind, searching for some little thing.

Something laid aside, or packed in a trunk, perhaps. She searched for it in corner stores, and antique sales, and in poetry.

She should have been upset after finding her place, that it was so anti-climatic. She wasn't. She was relieved at it's simplicity. She had decided to be content, being Stella's daughter, listening to the gossip of old women. Crochet beside her on the window seat, a volume of Keats on the ottoman in front.

This is me, she had thought languidly. All I ever wanted was just to not have to be who I had to be. I wanted a life more composed, and less harsh. Why was is it so wrong to seek peace and prettiness?

Now, everything had changed once more. Who would she be now? What was to be expected of her? Doubts tried to bubble up in her mind, but she suppressed them. She had given her word. She was a Garrett, and the Garrett's had never been cowards. They faced their anxieties head on, whether that anxiety was a Union army invading their home, or the novelty of approaching wedlock..

And she was a Rookwood, too. She stopped to think what that might mean. Why, it meant that she had the blood of some of the most pure, irascible, and undefeatable witches and wizards coursing through her veins!

She felt confident suddenly, that she could and would face her future with courage and a smile.

She began singing with the music.

" Eloise! Put that away for heaven's sake! We do not threaten people in this house!" Winter gave her sister a strong and reprimanding stare.

It was too ironic to have her sister threaten the wandmaker with a weapon of his own making. And Winter detested irony when it was too obvious.

Eloise looked startled, and sheepish.

" I was only summoning us a drink." she mumbled.

Winter only raised a doubting brow, and gestured for everyone to be seated. They had just bent their knees when Stella rushed in. Agnes and Demogene, hearing the commotion, had tried to follow, but Stella shut and warded the door in their curious faces. After a moment's thought, she cast a silencing charm over it as well.

Agnes immediately attempted to break the ward, only to receive a powerful jolt, that burned her fingers, and caused her to yelp.

Demogene giggled.

" You hush!" Agnes barked.

" Serves you right for trying to eavesdrop. I'll bet that Martin Ashwell is in there making his petition."

" Hmmph. Well, let's go interrogate Amanda and find out."

Demogene had to hurry to keep up with her leggier sibling, but they were disappointed to find Amanda's door locked. Agnes beat on it loudly, and even threatened to blast the knob off, but there was no response, other than the steady strains of Barry Manilow muffled behind the thick wooden door.

Agnes needed no reason to be offended, or to hate her cousin, but she pretended that being ignored hurt her feelings.

" She thinks she is better than us now, for sure." she sniffed. She felt a strong pang of anger, which would only strengthen once she learned who was really in the parlor.

As they began to march downstairs again, Agnes gave a snicker.

" Do you know what I am going to do?" she asked Demogene, leaning against the rail a moment " I am going to relieve Amanda of that green dancing dress.You know, the one that LeBonne woman made for her with the _princess_ waist?"

" Why? It...it's not your color." she had started to say that it would not fit, but thought better.

" Because I _want_ it, and it would take me months to afford one like it. I couldn't even get that gypsy bitch to _discuss_ it with me.She said I was rude! Besides, Ashwell can buy her a dozen dresses, for what good it will do him. She doesn't dance anyhow."

Demogene only shrugged. There was nothing to be said to Agnes when she was in these moods.She knew Agnes would not take the dress; but she might do something else that was undeniably mean instead. There were so many possibilities.

Edward knew that Eloise could be shrewd. Even cold and ruthless when it came to her determination to have her wishes followed, and life adjusted to her unique standards.

This did not prepare him for the tyrannical fervor with which she interrogated him about his intentions. First she demanded a complete explanation of what had occurred between the time she left Amanda and the time she found her again.

" And just _how_ long has this been going on?" she demanded sharply, almost nose to nose with him.

His assurance that it had only been _'going on' _for maybe fifteen minutes did very little to soothe her wrath, and she began stormy dialogue. Surprisingly, it was Stella that interfered, and informed Eloise that Amanda was _her _daughter, and a grown woman. As such, she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, no matter how spontaneous or unusual those decisions might be.

" She's made her bed, and she's the one that must sleep in it. She's no different than me in that respect. And despite your predictions, _I__never _regretted my decision."

Winter covered her mouth to hide a smile. It always amused her to see a person brave enough to stand Eloise down.

Eloise fumed for a moment, but Stella held her gaze, not lowering her own dark, flashing eyes. Edward felt a growing admiration for this woman. As soon as Eloise lowered her eyes, though, Stella flashed him a stern look as well. He understood it to mean that she was on Amanda's side, and Amanda's side _only_, at the moment.

He granted her a slight nod.

Without any further argument, Eloise began drawing up the contract draft. She left no stone unturned, no corner overlooked. The Ministry had provided a rather thick pamphlet for it's victims, explaining the appropriate procedure to follow. This booklet, Stella and Winter took up and began perusing while Edward and Eloise squabbled over income and allowance.

After the scroll was signed, which would magically bind him, without exception, he would have to present it to the Ministry as soon as possible, placing a petition for her, Amanda Garrett/Rookwood. Then, the Ministry would send a witness and Edward would offer a formal proposal to Amanda, complete with a ring.

If a girl lived alone, she could accept of deny, up to five times before she was ' matched up' by the Ministry to someone of their choosing. If she had guardians or was dependent on others, she had to turn to the master or mistress of her house of residence, and ask permission.

Then to her mother, and her grandmother as her line of kinswomen. Then, with approval, she accepted the formal engagement, a bond would be placed over their joined hands to 'hold' until actual wedding.

Reading all of this, Eloise had snorted in dainty contempt.

" Preposterous. How long did it take them to write this _tripe_? It's a pretty piece of ceremony for a law that is supposedly still in in it's infancy."

Winter and Estella however had been suitably amused by the numerous stipulations.

" How complicated is the actual _wedding_? Do we need to build guest houses? " Stella had asked drily.

" It's here, " Winter pointed at a paragraph. " It's comparatively simple. They exchange vows."

" Oh, that's _unique_." Stella replied drolly.

At the writing desk, Eloise had written down to the bottom of the scroll.

" Now...what about living arrangements? " Eloise asked. " You can't expect her to set up housekeeping in that shabby flat over the shop?"

" Well...no. I suppose I'll open up the family home again."

Winter, reading the page dedicated to the etiquette of the three month engagement, suddenly snorted with barely suppressed laughter.

" It has a _chastity clause_! They must have pulled this from the medieval archives. Listen Stella. ' A chastity charm is placed on both parties, at the time the bride-to-be becomes officially engaged to the groom-to-be. Thereafter, neither party can participate in any sexual act that will render the-"

" WINTER!" Eloise snapped.

Winter and Stella looked up from the parchment to see a very horrified, Edward trying to pretend as though he wasn't listening. Eloise was red-faced and frowning.

" Sorry." they muttered, and continued to laugh between themselves.

Eloise returned her attention to the contract.

" This house...where is it _exactly_?"

" Between here and London. You know the village...P----?"

" This was not where Dinah lived, was it?"

" No. Well, briefly, but she preferred to live closer to society." he waved all thought of her away impatiently." I own a smaller shop in the village as well. It's been closed since...since I returned to London. I would be able to re-open it." Eloise knew that much of course, as she had been the one to assist him in investing in the shop, but any diversion from the subject of chastity clauses was welcome.

" The house was most recently mother's, and still retains all the original furnishings,linens, china...I had it closed up and warded after her death, just as she left it."

Satisfied at last, Eloise turned the parchment around for him to sign. After quickly reading over it, not one to trust her absolutely, he took the quill and signed his name quickly, before he could change his mind.

Then he stood and checked the time.

" If everything is to your satisfaction, ladies...I suppose I make my appearance at the Ministry. I heard that the lines were backed into the street, this morning."

The women stood as well, Eloise rolling up the paper tightly.

" Of course. You have quite a task ahead of you." she offered on of her rare smiles. Edward took her hand and kissed it, still wary. Then he bade a familiar farewell to Winter, and another polite nod to Stella, who now seemed intimidating and authoritative as his future mother in law., despite being much younger than himself.

She merely raised her chin challengingly, and watched.

" Please excuse me to Miss...to Miss Amanda. "

Her name was warm and sweet to say, he realized. And as he exited, he repeated it to himself over and over, forgetting in his preoccupation to open the damned umbrella that so mysteriously altered the course of his entire life.

* * *

Strangers in Love, lyrics-Air Supply 


	13. Chapter 13 The Plans

_When I get older losing my hair  
many years from now  
will you still be sending me a valentine  
birthday greeting, bottle of wine _

_  
If I'd been out till quarter to three  
would you lock the door  
Will you still need me  
Will you still feed me  
When I'm sixty-four?_

_You'll be older too  
And if you say the word  
I could stay with you _

* * *

--The Plans--

The Rookwood house was thrown into uproar, most of which came from Agnes, though Demogene had provided a few choice vocalizations as well.

" I don't understand how you could _allow_ such a thing!" Agnes whined.

" It wasn't my choice." Eloise retorted. " He and Amanda reached an agreement between themselves. I didn't arrange it, and it isn't as though it happened without either of them consenting."

" Apparently they were very eager." Winter agreed, having heard Eloise's side of the story just moments before Agnes burst in to accuse them all of conspiring against her future security.

" And _furthermore_," Eloise gave Winter a reproving look, " it is still a good arrangement for this family."

"So was the previous one! What about me?"

" Agnes, you locked yourself in your bedroom for three weeks after I told you of the former arrangement, and tried to starveyourself to death. What were your _exact _words? Hmmm? The _exact _opinion you had of him at that time?"

Agnes flushed.

" I don't remember."

:" Well, I _do_. So mind your manners, and don't behave as though you've been cheated out of a great love affair. The law is still in effect, I am sure we can find someone else. Someone perhaps more to your...preferences." Eloise said the last word as though it were something dirty.

" I just worry about myself is all! I'm older than Amanda, I might not get another chance.What will happen? The Ministry will auction me on the slave market!"

" Don't be so dramatic. You won't be auctioned off." Eloise rubbed her temples. " I promise. Now, if you will invite some of those eligible wizards over, and charm them, we'll see if we can't take care of you."

" I'm not as pretty as Amanda." Agnes argued.

" You aren't ugly, either! And your a Witch who has proven herself capable of producing children who are also magical. Now Demogene, there you go crying!" Eloise threw her pen down in frustration. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to calm herself.

She had been attempting to write a letter to Mr. Prill, her advisor on all things financial, but she simply could not concentrate on words or figures, with such upheaval around her.

" I'm sorry." Demogene sniffled, cringing away from her aunt's expression of irritation.

Eloise softened slightly, and put the letter away, to be finished later, after everyone was in bed.

Now, there was much to do, and discuss. Amanda was still locked in her room, with only the sound of music answering Stella's call. Stella, in the one hour since the contract had left the door, had been through every possible human emotion, and settled on blatant skepticism. Agnes was in rage of self pity, Demogene...well was just Demogene, and Winter was too busy being amused to be any help at all.

Eloise sighed.

" Now, see here. This law has us all upset and chaotic. Let's not squabble, or be jealous of one another. I am doing my best" She unlocked a drawer. " You will both want new dresses for the wedding, of course, and perhaps one or two for whatever dinners or events might occur. Do you want to shop for them in London, or have them made especially?"

In this way, she distracted them both. Demogene, who became nearly prostrate with nervousness anytime she had to have clothes made, and Agnes, who had a great greed for any finery.

It was arranged that they would first shop for clothes, then, in the event that they found nothing satisfactory, they would have them made, which was what Agnes truly desired anyhow. She could see Agnes' eyes tightened with greed at the very thought.

Now Eloise could worry about the actual wedding arrangements. There would have to be a time, a place, a dress, a trousseau, food, champagne, invitations, and actual guests.

Amanda would have to rehearse for the formal acceptance ceremony, then for the actual wedding. She would have to adapt to living in a house designed with very few Muggle conveniences, and was mostly likely, after being empty so long, crawling with magical vermin.

Polly! She must send Polly to live with Amanda for awhile. She could raise the girl's wages handsomely. Polly would be a great help, and no doubt relieved to be far away from Agnes and her slovenly habits.

" Demogene, could you please find Polly, and send her to Amanda's room? I need to speak with her. "

Eloise rose from her desk, and gestured for Stella to follow her.

" Well...let's see what Amanda has to say for herself, should we?"

--

For awhile, Agnes and Demogene were content to be part of the bustle of activity. Eloise occasionally became annoyed with them, since like spoiled children, she had to give them gifts daily it seemed, to appease them and keep them from quarreling.

Everything seemed to be either going wrong, or only going right due to extreme effort. First, Edward had experienced difficulty at the Ministry, when they could not find Amanda's name. The delay, along with his long wait in line, almost caused him to pass the deadline.

After she was rediscovered, and it was time for the formal proposal, the witness had embarrassed everyone by assuming it was Stella that he proposing to. Then Amanda became so nervous she had to stammer out her response, and it took her two attempts to word it correctly.

After that, Edward had nearly dropped the ring, and was mortified when it was too small to fit on Amanda's finger. If it had been too large, she could have merely held it on carefully, until after the ceremony. As it was, Eloise had to resize it in the middle of the proceedings.

At last, the engagement was official, and they all breathed easier. Amanda was slightly disappointed that they didn't have a single private moment in which to speak however, because as soon as the official had their signatures, he was out the door, with Edward in tow.

The next day, Eloise had sent for Amele, to begin on the wedding dress, but had received a note back, in French, from Jean-Paul, stating that Amele was indisposed, and could not possibly travel.

Later, Amele had owled Amanda, and confided that she was expecting again, and apologized profusely for not being able to stand, let alone Floo.

' However,' she assured her, ' the dizziness never lasts too long. I may be on my feet again in a week. I will then come and make your dress, if Eloise can be urged to wait."

Eloise waited one week, but would not be urged further. Amanda didn't understand the impatience. A dress made by magic could be prepared in less than a day, and they had exactly three months.

" No one will _ever_ believe that I didn't plan it that way." she said to Estella, with a sigh. " A June bride...how cliched!"

" I wanted to marry in June." Stella replied, indignantly.

Eloise ordered several dozen June roses, and told Amanda not to complain. She would need the luck.

Amanda was more than willing to let the older women take control of the wedding. She had no idea of how to create a wedding, and was slightly unnerved to think of having to create a wedding in which the guests would all be strangers.

" Do we have to have guests?" she asked, one day, in exasperation, as Agnes and Demogene were listing people who they wanted to invite. Mostly eligible bachelors, with important family names.

" I don't know how they do things in _your _world, but it is considered very _rude_ to not invite your friends to a family wedding!" Agnes informed her.

Surprisingly, except for the new tone of superciliousness in Agnes' voice, she had been more or less civil. It was Demogene who had taken to harassing Amanda at every opportunity.

Her modus operandi was to begin with light conversation, and then to advance into speculation and gossip about a variety of people. Inevitably, one of these persons would 'happen' to remind her of a rumor she had heard about Edward.

The conversation would then become her one-sided speculation of what a horrible person he must be.

At first, Amanda had found herself listening. Overwhelmed, and with her nerves on edge, it was too easy to be taken in by Demogene's sincere concern.She began to doubt her decision.

Demogene fed that doubt daily, telling Amanda that it was never known whether or not he and Dinah had actually married.

" They say that her father, Vincente Blackmoor, threw her out into the streets for dishonoring the family, and she moved into Edward's home. She was such a beautiful girl, that no one could believe she would have anything to do with someone like him. "

Whenever Amanda inquired who these people were that provided the gossip, Demogene would provide a name that she had never heard before.

" Oh, do you know Ms. Kindred? She lived near the Blackmoors at that time. That reminds me, that Mr. Kindred, who was a healer, told her Elias was born under unusual circumstances. They remember that Dinah was terrified when she came in. Hysterical. Screamed for them no to let _him_ near the baby. Doesn't that just make you wonder?"

Whenever Agnes would overhear these fragments of conversation, she would stop what she was doing and listen. She never said anything, neither to agree nor disagree. She just listened, watching Demogene intently.

Amanda found that to be very disconcerting, and at last she approached Eloise, who was in the process of creating invitations tailored to each individual guest.

She asked whether or not Edward had really married Dinah. Eloise's answer had not been comforting.

" I honestly don't know. I was very busy at the time. I'm sure he did though...why do you ask?"

Amanda considered the question for a moment, then decided she had nothing ot to lose from the truth.

" Demogene has been sharing gossip with me." she confessed.

Eloise gave her a wry smile, and returned to her work.

" Hmm...well one thing that true in both the Wizarding and Muggle world is that you should never believe something until it is printed in the newspaper. And then leave a small margin for doubt."

It wasn't exactly reassurance.

" Oh, and Amanda...'' Eloise called." Come over here. Now, since we're alone, I want to apologize to you about Martin. Stella told me about the bruises, I'm sorry I didn't notice them that day. I dropped in on the Ashwell's yesterday, and saw a few ugly truths about the family's condition. I honestly had no idea. "

" There was no harm done. " Amanda smiled.

" No, but there _could_ have been. And very few people get apologies from me." Eloise said, a twinkle in her eye. " Now, stop listening to your cousins. And look over those cakes."

Amanda grimaced. so far she had successfully avoided making any decisions, but she had at last been cornered.

" I did. I chose one already. "

" Which one? "

" The flat one." she admitted.

" The _flat_ one. Isn't it a bit plain?"

" Yes. I like it though, I think a tiered cake is too ostentatious."

" This is your wedding!" Eloise exclaimed. " It's supposed to be ostentatious. It's supposed to have flowers, and doves, and champagne fountains, and huge tiered cakes with thick icing. When are you ever going to have a chance for such glitz and celebration again?"

Amanda leaned on her elbows, and grinned cheekily.

" My fiftieth wedding anniversary perhaps?"

Eloise laughed despite herself.

" All right, you win this time. We'll have a subdued wedding, but I get to plan your anniversary party."

" Will you remember it in fifty years?"

" Fifty? I was talking about next year. I'm impatient." she swatted Amanda's bottom with a rolled up invitation.

" Go pester your mother."

That evening, no longer in the mood for weddings or Eloise's gifts, Agnes had returned to her room, and taken out a bottle of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey. It wasn't the first time she had ever decided to drink herself into a oblivion.

After the first few swallows rendered her stupid, she began to charm a few clothes into a small, musty carpet bag. This wouldn't be the first time she had made one of these ventures, either. Taking the Knight Bus to the seedy, dangerous, Knockturn Alley, where she would hide a few days in whichever tavern would give a cheap room.

This would be the fourth time, and every time she had returned starved, sick, and beaten, Once, she had received worse than that as she lay drunk behind the tavern, unable to defend herself, unable to care as a filthy man in ragged clothes had abused her.

Each time, Eloise had taken her back in. She never asked.

Agnes didn't have to have a reason to run. She herself didn't know why she did it. She would spend the first night or two away, hating everything, and everyone. Then she would miss the comforts of the house, and laughter, and evenings by the fire. Then she would hate them for not coming ot find her, hate them for not being more concerned when she returned.

The more the latter mood descended on her, the more self punishing she became.

Winter had once said that the greatest calumny ever committed against Agnes, was that she grew up. It was nature that Agnes could not forgive.

Winter also said that it was unforgivable behavior, and that Eloise should not support her. But Eloise could never bring herself to close the door on Agnes. She was her sister's child, a Rookwood. It was this reckless and erratic behavior though that had led Eloise to find a new heir. Agnes would be cared for. As would Demogene, but neither of them would receive all of the Rookwood money. They both knew this.

And Agnes resented it.

She left by the front door, while everyone was in the parlor discussing whether or not a covey of lavender doves flying from a golden fountain would be too expensive for the brief procession across the lawn. Agnes hoped their dammed fountain exploded and the doves fell down dead and pelted the guests. That would give them something to talk about for years to come!

With a sneer, she slammed the door hard enough that a portrait of Demogene, which hung in the parlor, fell to the floor and shattered, sending that woman into hysterical tears, that would not cease, even after Eloise had mended the broken picture.

* * *

When I'm Sixty-four-Lyrics: McCartney/Lennon 


	14. Chapter 14 The Dress

_When she looks at me_

_I know the girl sees things_

_Nobody else can see_

_All of the secret fears inside_

_And all the craziness I hide_

_She looks into my soul_

_And reads me like nobody can_

_And she doesnt judge the man_

_She just takes me as I am_

* * *

--The Dress--

" Absolutely _not_." Amanda crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest and shook her head adamantly.

Madame Grisette, the new bridal seamstress, gaped at her in surprise.

She had in her hand the ' wedding robes', an almost renaissance style dress of excruciatingly stiff, snow-white satin. On either side of the square neckline, two bands of blue ran down the bodice, and were crossed by a blue satin sash. The skirt was open in the front to reveal a blue underskirt.

Amanda regarded it from all angles, but from no position did the sleeves look attractive. Not to her at least. From the shoulder, to the elbow, they were fine, tight fitting, and decorated on the inside of the arm with satin covered buttons.

However, just below the elbow they opened out into what Madame Grisette called " flowing belles'. To Amanda, it seemed as if they had been too tight, and someone had cut them open,

She tried very hard to like it, but it was impossible.

" I'm sorry...but it's just _not_ what I had in mind.

" Well...why not?" the seamstress asked. " Is it too long? Would you prefer a lower neckline?"

" It's the blue."

" Well, actually, it's called aquamarine." the woman chirped proudly. " It's _the_ most fashionable color for brides this year. See how the underskirt is a shade darker than these insets? "

" Yes, I see that. But I don't like blue. " Amanda argued." Especially that color."

" Nonsense, it's beautiful! See, just look in the mirror while I hold it up. Doesn't it just look lovely with your hair?"

" Oh, it does look nice." Eloise said, entering the room, with Stella in tow. " Oh, Amanda, you will be stunning."

" I'm sorry..." Amanda said, again." But I just don't like it."

" Why? What's the matter with it?"

" She says that she doesn't like the aquamarine." Madame Grisette exclaimed, scandalized.

" Doesn't like the aqua?"

" And it's stiff." Amanda continued, her courage up." I...really want a proper dress. Not robes."

" A dress!" Eloise repeated.

" But...this is what everyone is wearing!" Grisette tried pleadingly. " I can alter it then...make the underskirt lighter blue, or even white."

" I want all white. Just a simple, soft dress. Not too many ruffles, but lace is fine."

" But _blue_ is the color for brides this year! _Aqua blue_!" the seamstress raised her voice. " And this style is our most popular. You'll look like a princess."

" I don't want to look like a princess, I want to look like a bride."

" I understand that not everyone understands good taste, when it comes to clothing..."

" Now...one moment!" Eloise intervened.

A few minutes later, Amanda slipped from the room as the other women plunged into a heated argument. Eloise at first trying to bring accord between Amanda and the seamstress. Then after a few nasty words from Grisette, Eloise and Stella jumped in to defend Amanda, even though they were the ones who had suggested the dress in the first place. Winter arrived in time to be irritated about the change of plans.

They had already begun all of the decor in blue and white.

" It's easy enough to change it.." Amanda had tried to explain.

" Now don't get yourself involved, this isn't your concern." Eloise told her, distractedly, which amused Amanda so much she had to step out to laugh. She ran to the library, and was standing against the hearth, laughing silently. Oh, the look on Grisette's face when she said she didn't like blue!

Suddenly the Floo sounded, and Edward stepped through. Amanda knew it would be him, as Eloise had opened up the Floo for his use only, to make his visits more convenient. Actually, Amanda suspected that Eloise did not wish to give her neighbors any reason to gossip more than they might already be doing.

She watched quietly as he stepped through and brushed off. It was the first time in five week she had seen him alone. When he noticed her, he flinched slightly, startled.

" I didn't see you there.You were as still as a statue."

She smiled, and was about to answer when she heard the loud quarreling voices of Eloise, Grisette, Estella, and Winter, approaching from the hall.

She turned to Edward.

" What is your favorite color?" she asked in hushed tone.

" My? "

" Favorite color...quickly, please."

" Brown, I suppose...like very fine wood."

" Brown." she smiled." That's perfect. Thank you."

" Your welcome. I haven't seen you...have they been keeping you hidden away?"

" No...just terribly busy. "

" _Amanda_! Where did you go?" Winter's voice called. She sounded very annoyed.

" Wait.." he caught her hand. " What about _your_ favorite color?

" Oh..it's...well, it's lavender."

" I'll remember."

" Amanda? Are you in here? Yes you are. And Edward too, wonderful. Eloise wishes to see you, Edward. And Amanda...your mother wishes to see _you,_ in the sewing room. " Winter was flustered as she rushed into the room.

" Right away." Amanda said. " Excuse me..." she nodded to Edward, not yet knowing what she should call him.

" Yes...and I hope you're satisfied, " Winter added. " Madame Grisette has left, and threatened never to return. "

--

It was true. Madame Grisette could not be coaxed to return. She and Eloise had apparently exchanged some very bitter words over Grisette's opinion of half-blood brides.

Eloise was in a slightly tense mood anyhow. Worried no doubt, about Agnes, who, after two weeks had still not returned, and could not be found, not even by Demogene.

The wedding was saved though, by the arrival of Amele, who not only felt better, but had an almost disgustingly beautiful glow about her olive complexion.

" Well, my little bride! All ready for a wedding dress. Tell me what you want and I will get right to work. I will see that you get exactly what you want! But first, can't you tell me the secret?"

" What secret? " Amanda asked.

" Well, the _groom_, of course. No one has heard anything! Not even Arthur. Or at least he said he did not know anything about it-- It's not his department, you know. So, tell me who it is, no? I have my suspicions...I saw it all when I read your palm, but...sometimes?" she shrugged as if to say, ' sometimes people do not do what is right.['

Amanda crossed her arms in mock sternness.

" Maybe _you_ should tell _me_ who you believe it to be." she said.

Amele laughed loudly.

" Aha! That is good. You don't fall for any gypsy tricks. Well, let me see, I saw that it was someone you did not know then, but were to soon to meet. You would not know him well, and the marriage would be spontaneous."

" You might have known that much from my Aunt."

" But your Aunt told me nothing except that you were to be married, and that she did by writing. Now, let's stop playing games. It is Ollivander, yes?"

Amanda smiled, amazed.

" Yes! It is...but I don't believe you saw that in my _palm_."

" Why do you think I was laughing?"

" Why _would_ you laugh?" Amanda asked warily.

" Because you were just speaking about your future, and when I looked, I saw that your future was only four minutes away from beginning. I laughed, because sometimes things are not coincidental."

It took several pleasant days for the dress to be finished, as Amele insisted on sewing it by hand.

" A wedding dress is too symbolic to be whipped up by spell. " She told Amanda. " A marriage involves selflessness, sacrifice, hard-work, and strength. It involves a strong foundation. What would it symbolize if the dress was an illusion? Air? It would be weak and a sham. No, the dress will be perfect. Real as soap."

When it was finally finished, Eloise and the others impatiently spilled into the room to admire it. Or rather...critique it.

" It's a very pretty dress, " Stella had said.."but it doesn't really seem...formal? It looks a little bit like a petticoat."

" I like it." Winter said. " It's very feminine."

" I cannot believe that you traded that sweet blue for..._brown_." Eloise shook her head.

Amanda refused to back down. There were some things a bride, as an independent woman, had to be firm about, and she had chosen to win the battle of the dress.

Amele had really created a masterpiece, without creating something too enormous for the small ceremony. It was a flowing chiffon dress, with a full, circular skirt. A deep single ruffle decorated the bottom.

The bodice was designed somewhat along the lines of peasant blouses, being very low necked, and slightly off the shoulder. The sleeves however were long, and had at the wrist a very narrow ruffle.

Around this ruffle, and the neckline, there was a mass of eyelet embroidery, all stitched in chocolate brown thread. Tiny flowers and vines twined in between the eyelets. Amanda thought it was beautiful, like candied lace.

" Well, better try it on, so we can see the full effect." Winter urged.

Amanda stepped behind the dressing screen, and had Amele tie up the laces, so that the other's wouldn't see it before it was perfectly fitted. The waist was boned, and Amele pulled it in tightly, tying off the length of satin ribbon with a bow.

When she stepped out the women admitted that the dress was suddenly beautiful. It felt to her like a soft hug, it fitted to her body perfectly, and moved softly with her every move.

Amele tied her hair up temporarily for her, exposing the long bare column of her neck. The neckline of the dress reached to just the edge of the shoulders, so that a generous expanse of bare skin form Amanda's chin to the lace border was exposed.

" Now, maybe a string of pearls...or a white satin choker. A touch of eyeliner, and definitely some dark lip color. What do you think? " Amele turned to Eloise and Stella, grinning.

" I think there's a good chance he might not live through the ceremony." Eloise joked.

Embarrassed, Amanda tried to pull the bodice higher.

" Don't do that, you'll wrinkle it!" Amele swatted her hand away.

" Maybe a type of shawl? " Amanda asked hopefully.

" Don't be shy. You have lovely shoulders. And don't worry about the bodice, it will be better after we get the proper undergarments."

" I didn't know it had to have special undergarments." Amanda sighed.

For some reason, the other's thought this was remarkably amusing.

" What did you think went under it?" Eloise asked.

" Nothing. Well, I mean, I didn't think about it." she stammered, quickly when her companions began laughing. She wished for all the world that the wedding were already over.

She glared at the others.

" Would you like some seed pearls added to the embroidery, Amanda?" Amele asked. " Here, and here?"

" Yes. " Amanda agreed. " Yes, that would be nice. But not too many."

" And a tiny rosette just here, in the middle. Ah, perfect. You will be the envy of the wizarding world!"

" Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far.." came a new voice from the doorway.

" Agnes! You're back!" Eloise exclaimed with relief, and surprise.

She had expected the girl back, but not like this. Usually, she crawled home. Sick, stinking of alcohol, and disoriented. But this time, Agnes was clean. She wore a new dress, and even had brushed on some rouge. Amanda thought she looked quite pretty.

When she smiled however, they all felt the sudden urge to distrust her. She smiled with her bottom teeth as well as the top, and darted her eyes from side to side.

" Yes. Well, I didn't want to miss the wedding. The big event, you know. Besides, I have some news of my own. "

" Really, and what is that?"

" Well, firstly, I ran into Earnest in London. He had Bernice and Simon with him."

Bernice and Simon, Amanda learned later, were Agnes' children, whom she had rarely seen, and never spoken of since divorcing Earnest.

" Oh, Agnes, you got to see them?"

" Yes...and I hope you don't mind, but I invited them over. "

" Of course!"

" And to the wedding too."

Agnes seemed nervous, suddenly, and twisted her handbag in her hands.

" I...think they want to come."

" We'll make certain they don't regret it." Eloise reassured her.

Then Agnes smiled again, with her piranha teeth.

" And my other news is.." she held up her left hand. A thick gold band sat on her third finger.

" Why Agnes! This is certainly unexpected!" Winter said.

Agnes narrowed her eyes, slightly.

" Why shouldn't I find a little happiness too?"

" She didn't mean that, Agnes. " Eloise reprimanded. " We're happy for you. But, may we ask who it is? We're a little surprised that you didn't have the engagement here."

" Oh..it's someone." Agnes responded coyly. " But I want it to be a secret for awhile yet. And to tell you the truth...the engagement was a bit of a surprise for me as well. "

" Well, how about the wedding? You'll want something big?"

Agnes tilted her head.

" Perhaps. We'll talk about it later. But for now, let me look at Amanda's dress. " as her cool blue gaze took in her cousin, Amanda felt suddenly vulnerable, and repressed the urge to shudder.

* * *

Lyrics-Cynthia Weil/Tom Snow


	15. Chapter 15 Prelude to a Wedding

_If I were a carpenter_

_And you were a lady,_

_Would you marry me anyway?_

_Would you have my baby?_

_If a tinker were my trade_

_would you still find me,_

_Carrying the pots I made,_

_Following behind me._

_Save my love through loneliness,_

_Save my love for sorrow,_

_I'm given you my onliness,_

_Come give your tomorrow._

_If I worked my hands in wood,_

_Would you still love me?_

_Answer me babe, "Yes I would,_

_I'll put you above me."_

_If I were a miller_

_at a mill wheel grinding,_

_would you miss your color box,_

_and your soft shoe shining?_

_If I were a carpenter_

_and you were a lady,_

_Would you marry me anyway?_

_Would you have my baby?_

_Would you marry anyway?_

_Would you have my baby?_

--Prelude to a Wedding--

After the dress was finished, the rest of the plans seemed to fall into place too easily, and the days to speed by too swiftly. Before Amanda could catch a breath, it was time.

On the morning of her wedding, a day she was supposed to cherish as her most precious memory, Amanda was hiding in her bathroom, being ill. Outside, on Amanda's bed, Stella sat patiently waiting. As did Winter.

Demogene sat in one of the side-chairs, playing with the bouquet in a bored fashion. Polly sat opposite her, tapping her wand nervously against her knee.

Amele, there in the capacity of friend, sat in the desk chair, smiling.

Downstairs, Eloise was making last minute preparations. Agnes, still on her best behavior, had been Eloise's shadow, for the past few weeks, right there to lend a hand in all the arrangements. The sound of her brassy voice calling instructions to the caterer floated up the stairs at random intervals.

The small ceremony was to occur in the parlor, which had been 'refreshed' for the occasion, meaning that Eloise altered all of the furnishings, and then expanded the smaller second parlor to make room for tables, and a dance floor.

Amanda had avoided going downstairs for the past three days, the sight of the tables and plants and garlands and large pillar candles made her stomach coil uneasily. It looked like an awful lot of stuff for just one day.

" Amanda, dear..can I get you anything?" Stella called after a few more minutes.

" Mother...I think I'm dying..." Amanda wailed weakly in reply.

" You're not dying, child. It's nerves." Winter laughed. She effortlessly unlocked the door, and entered, and after a few minutes of low talking, Amanda exited, looking pale and shaking slightly.

Stella sat her on the bed while Polly ran her a hot bath. The whole time they were pouring in scented oils and foaming powders, Amanda was glancing nervously at the clock.

" The bath is ready." Polly told her. " Here let me help you with those buttons."

Amanda bathed behind the screen, irritated at her self for not being able to hold the bar of soap. Everyone else chatted gaily with each other, as if the day were any other day. They were already dressed as well, and perfectly coiffed.

" What time is it now?" she called out.

" Time enough. " Winter answered, stepping into the bathroom with Stella. They were rolling up their sleeves.

" Shouldn't we hurry? We'll be late if we don't hurry!" Amanda said, dizzily.

" The ceremony doesn't begin for another three hours. Now, let me wash your hair."

They came at her from all angles. Spells to dry her off, depilatory spells, tangle charms for her hair, whitening spells for her teeth. The rubbed her with lotions, puffed her with powder and sprayed her with scent. Wrapped in a large purple towel, she sat rigidly while they applied her make-up by hand, and her nail polish by magic.

Then Polly brought in the lingerie and they stuffed her into it. It involved some sort of functional corselet that pushed up her bosom, held in her waist, and held onto her stockings.

Amele came in with the dress then, and began lacing it over the underwear. It fit perfectly, her waist cinched in tightly. She tugged again at the bodice, mortified at how much of herself was on display. Much more it seemed, than when she had worn it before.

" If you don't stop tugging that, I am going to charm your hands to the bouquet." Stella said at last.

" It's too low." Amanda said. " It's much to low. Or...the other thing is too high. I can't go out there like this! I don't think I can go out there at all." She turned as if to flee, but Winter caught her and held her still. Stella pushed her hands away from the lace.

" Stop pulling it! Stand up straight. "

" Brown. Well, it is certainly a peculiar color for a bride, I must say. " Winter stated. " But it looks nice, after all. "

Amanda smiled. She had remained adamant about the brown, and had even ordered her trousseau with browns, oranges, and mauves. All dusky and feminine. She hadn't really wanted a new trousseau, but Eloise insisted that it was traditional and gave her a simple choice. Either you order it, or we'll order it for you.

Imagining the first year of her married life passing by while she wore sequined, aquamarine robes of various crunchy fabrics made Amanda's head ache. She had quickly relented, and placed her order for the browns and pinks.

These clothes did not come from Amele, who was unable to fill such a large order in so short a time, but from a company who sent a convincing saleswitch, complete with a catalogue of pretty, conservative clothing samples.

Amanda had held her head up proudly while making her choices, feeling every inch the mature woman...and only faltering when the lady got to the nightgowns and lingerie.

" Amanda? Are you listening?"

' Yes, of course."

She nodded absently, trying to dislodge the memory of the shocking lingerie they woman had recommended for new brides.

" At least consider it..." the woman had urged.

Consider it she did. It took her just three seconds however to decide she simply could not imagine herself in..._any _of it."

" Will you please sit down so that Polly can fix your hair?" Stella asked.

" Hmmm? Oh...what's wrong with it?"

" It's a damp, wild mess tied up in a towel." Winter supplied. " Do you _want _to walk down the aisle with a towel wrapped around your head?"

" Mother...she's nervous."

" Well, of course she is. Everyone is nervous on their wedding day. _I _was. Well maybe you weren't, Stella. You didn't have time."

" I was nervous, I just had to be nervous in a hurry."

" Have I told you about the day I was married to your grandfather, Amanda?"

Amanda shook her head. She had heard very little about Winter and her grandfather.

Polly began brushing her hair out, while Winter talked, hoping to offer some distraction.

" Clement September. Yes, that's my married name. September. I don't use it of course, because Winter September sounds a bit odd doesn't it? Like someone didn't _quite _know where they were going. The day we were married, it snowed.

Snow began falling the night before. It was still falling when we woke. It was a horrible storm. I was getting ready, just like you are now, and we could see the snow blowing past the windows.

Well, even Wizards aren't perfect. He and his family didn't arrive on time. They didn't arrive until late that night. They had become disoriented while Apparating, and landed in Russia. They didn't know they were lost, they kept walking along the street searching for my house."

" What happened?" Amanda winced as Polly began twisting her hair.

" Oh the storm abated, at last, and I sat, watching by my window. It grew dark, and still no Clement. It was almost midnight when the doorbell rang. We had all given up and gone to bed. I ran down the stairs in my nightgown, and my father was so relieved to see him alive, that he woke everyone up. We got married at midnight. "

" In her nightgown." Stella added.

" Oh I did _not_! I put on my wedding dress, and we were married. That's all. His suit was wet with snow, but other than that, we never had any bad luck. Not a bit." Winter said in mock defense.

The other women began to share their stories. Romantic, funny, and embarrassing anecdotes filled the air around Amanda's head. She wondered if the groom was nervous too? No...probably not. Why would he be? _He _had been married before.

Polly heated her wand and used it to curl some of the loose tendrils of hair around Amanda's face. They cast a sticking charm on her make-up, painted her lips a dark mauve, and clasped her locket around her throat.

Lastly, her mother helped her to buckle on a pair of uncomfortable but attractive shoes. They had a strap around the ankle to ensure she didn't lose one along the way, which was only one of her fears.

Seeing that Amanda was holding her head very stiffly, Polly laughed at her and assured her the hairstyle wouldn't fall down, no matter how hard she shook her head.

" Try it. Shake your head. See? The only way to get it down is to pull out that hairpin. "

" Amazing..." Magic was truly wonderful at times.

" All right, have a look at yourself. " Stella took Amanda's hand and pulled her to the full length mirror.

Amanda blinked a moment, surprised by the reflection. For a moment, what she saw was a tall, narrow-waisted woman, with smooth bare shoulders, a long lean neck, and smoky seductive eyes.

On closer inspection, she recognized herself under the costume. The shoes had given her height, the boning had taken in her waist and accentuated her curves. The rest was magic.

While she was staring at herself with a mixture of horror and fascination, Eloise let herself in. She was followed closely by Agnes, and Agnes' daughter Bernice, a shy girl of an indeterminate age, who trying to win over her mother's affections. Simon, Agnes' son, had refused to appear--Amanda was under the impression that he had _not _forgiven his mother.

" By the stars, Amanda, you look gorgeous!" Eloise exclaimed. " Why, I had no idea that dress would look so good. It seems you were right all along. Now...are you ready to get married?"

" Here, take your flowers, dear." her mother pressed the bouquet, into her daughter's hand.

Amanda suddenly wanted nothing more than to fling herself into her mother's arms and be whisked away. From the ceremony, from change...from the drama of having all those people waiting downstairs, where she was sure to make an utter fool of herself.

She swallowed hard, and blinked back tears that threatened to fill her eyes and wash away layers of carefully applied mascara.

" I don't think I can stand up." she admitted in a small voice. "I think...I think we'll have to wait for another day. I won't be able to walk. I can't recall what I am supposed to say. I _can't _get married!"

" Of course you can!" Winter said, snapping her fingers." You are a Rookwood, and my granddaughter. You are Estella's child. You will walk out their proudly with your head high and a smile on your face. You will marry Edward, and smile for the camera, because the Ministry is not going to see a Rookwood brought low."

She knelt gracefully, her own dress was a rather deep emerald. ( With Stella's sapphire, and Eloise's royal amethyst robes, they reminded Amanda of a jewel shop.)

" Do you like him, Amanda?"

Her granddaughter nodded. She did. She liked him. He was her aunt's friend, her savior, and yet a stranger. He had never seemed so much a stranger until now, when she was about to bind herself to him eternally."

" Then you are luckier than hundreds of other women and men today who are being married because of this law. He is a good person, not like some of the other Pureblood Wizards. Men who would beat their wives, lock them away, maybe let them die eventually." she paused, to let Amanda recall Martin Ashwell. "You've done very well for yourself, so hold up your head, child."

Winter said all of this in a low voice that only Amanda and Stella could hear. Stella tightened her lips. She was still ambivalent in her true feelings for Mr. Ollivander. She had refrained from voicing any opinion, afraid she might be merely laying her frustrating and irritation on the wrong person's shoulders, when it really belonged on the ministry.

Amanda rose unsteadily then, as her small clock showed it was nearly time. Where had her last three hours gone?

She embraced her mother, and grandmother. Then her aunt.

They all assembled themselves, and with a serene expression and flawless poise that belied her earlier hysteria, Amanda Garrett left her room for the last time as an unmarried woman.

If I were A Carpenter-Lyrics, Tim Hardin


	16. Chapter 16 A Wedding

_Be still my beating heart_

_It would be better to be cool_

_Its not time to be open just yet_

_A lesson once learned is so hard to forget_

_Be still my beating heart_

_Or Ill be taken for a fool_

_Its not healthy to run at this pace_

_The blood runs so red to my face_

_Ive been to every single book I know_

_To soothe the thoughts that plague me so_

_I sink like a stone thats been thrown in the ocean_

_My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion_

_Stop before you start_

_Be still my beating heart. -Sting_

The ceremony itself was blessedly simple, and somewhat anti-climatic in comparison with the frenetic preparations that had been involved. Amanda hardly had time to notice it was begun before it was over:

Months later, when trying to write the events in her journal, she would realize with curiosity, that she could not clearly recall all of those small details that other married women could describe so readily.

Eloise, true to her word and despite her instincts, had kept it as small as possible, without offending anyone too important. There were faces she did not recognize, and faces that she did recognize...but could not for the life of her put a name to.

All of those faces belonged to Witches and Wizards who, unlike Muggle wedding guests, were attired in the most outrageous of costumes and robes, in bright colors and wild patterns.

She had sought out Edward's face, and kept her eyes riveted to him, using his solid presence to help ground herself. To all outward appearance she was beautiful and serene, just enough of a smile on her painted lips, eyes tilted coquettishly, every step a smooth graceful work of art.

Inside, she was praying to whichever god, goddess or saint might be listening to help her please not be sick, and to ensure that she glided to the bottom of the stairs, instead of tumbling head over heels.

At last she was relatively safe, standing beside her husband-to-be, who suddenly seemed very nervous, and trembled noticeably as he took her hands in hers. A man with a sandpapery voice had begun to speak, and by sheer luck, they both managed to muddle satisfactorily through their responses.

After the kiss, the audience converged upon them, and Amanda found herself hugged, congratulated and introduced to more people. Ladies gathered around to compliment the dress, and didn't seem to noticed that when Stella had embraced her, she had left a few tears stains on the shoulder.

Everything that followed was a mish-mash of Muggle and Wizarding traditions, old and new, and Amanda was ushered from one task to the next, signing the papers the Ministry official thrust at her,, smiling for cameras, saying hello, and thank you; accepting gifts, declining champagne and avoiding anything on which her hem might become snagged.

The entire group, seemed to know when to move en masse to the next room, where the tables and dance floor loomed menacingly. Amanda was trying to remember what she was supposed to do next, and Edward was trying to read her expression. Was she actually happy? Or was that the insane workings of his dusty imagination?

They found themselves seated at the longest table. In the center of the table, Eloise's most clever idea rose abruptly. They had never quite managed a cake. Amanda had chosen the one cake, but after discovering it was to be a fruit cake for the sake of tradition, she had rebelled, and had asked that, since this was a magical world, wasn't there something unusual that might be done instead of the traditional, and in her opinion _unpalatable_, wedding cake?

The result was the peanut butter fountain.

A lavish, three tiered fountain, it resembled in shape and color the most elaborate of cakes. However, what it really served was a hot peanut butter and fudge sauce that was charmed to be just as white as the fountain, without losing any of it's flavor.

The guests used silver spoon so to dip the sauce into dainty white bowls, with or without ice cream. Not a few of them moaned in ecstasy over the rich goodness of the unique confection.

All of the Rookwood women were possessed of an insatiable fancy for sweets, and had decided that a dessert reception would be much more elegant than a true luncheon. The tables were laden with everything from simple bowls of cherries, to elaborate cream-filled pastries.

The toasts were offered, after everyone had gorged themselves on sugar. Then the married couple had to lead the first dance. At first this was awkward, being the sole dancers and the center of attention in what seemed a vast empty expanse of polished wood.

After a suitable interval, or perhaps the music changed, Amanda couldn't be sure, other couples joined them. Both she and Edward relaxed considerably. Humans were fickle in their interests, and once they began dancing with each other, they quickly lost interest in the bride and groom.

" It seems I haven't spoken to you in ages." he said in a low voice. The lights were low, and he had her pulled very close indeed, so that they could at last talk in relative privacy.

" Thirty six days, if I'm not mistaken. " she said coyly. " It seems like all I've done for the last three months is try on clothes, and be poked and pinned."

" You look lovely though." had he pulled her a little closer? " So very elegant."

" Thank you. You look nice too." she whispered. They twirled past Eloise, who was in the arms of a broad shouldered man sporting a set of glossy brown mutton chops. " But, you always do." Amanda added bravely.

He was flattered, but unconvinced. The girl was polite, was all, and very generous.

" Thank you, Amanda, but you never have to lie for my sake." he led them out of Eloise's earshot.

Amanda tilted her head, and gazed up at him with her agate-grey eyes.

" I'm not lying. If I lie, I get a distinctive twitch beneath my left eye. I've learned to never depend on lies." her southern accent washed over him like warm honey, and he felt he could easily melt in her hands.

" I don't see a twitch." he said, pulling back to peer closely at her face.

" That is because I am not lying." she informed him.

" You are a peculiar girl."

" Thank you. I hope you won't find me too tedious."

" I don't believe that I will. We do have a few things we need to discuss, though."

" Such as?" they executed another escape from Eloise, who insisted on circling close.

" I think perhaps it would best to wait until we are not in such close proximity to your Aunt. I cannot concentrate with her bustle behaving in that fashion." without taking his eyes from Amanda's he had managed to keep watch on Eloise's escapades.

Amanda risked a brief look to the side, and noted that Eloise dress did have a bustle, a rather large bustle, and it was bouncing in a ridiculous fashion as her partner danced her around the floor, at a rate much faster than the tempo of the music.

The sight was so amusing, and Amanda was so relieved to be through the ceremony, that she began to laugh, and once she began she could not control it, and had to hide her face against his shoulder. He rested his chin lightly on her hair, and glared at Eloise, who was staring triumphantly at them.

" Well, I've embarrassed myself." Amanda stated softly, after her laughter had subsided.

" No one should be ashamed of laughter." he said.

They continued to dance. The music changed to an even slower waltz, and since he didn't seem inclined to stop, she didn't suggest it. Here, they were safe from the 'people'.

" Why are you smiling?" .

" I'm happy. " she stated simply, with a petite shrug.

" You like the locket?" he asked suddenly.

Her smile grew even broader.

" I love the locket!" she exclaimed, and surprising him, she bounced up on her toes and kissed him swiftly on the cheek. " I'm very sorry I couldn't thank you until now."

Her birthday fell on the 29th of May, which was eighteen days before the wedding. When asked by her family what she wanted, she had requested only to be able to sleep in an extra hour or so, and to have an entire day free of any talk or shopping that had to do with the wedding.

Coming down to breakfast at the late hour of eleven o'clock, she had a discovered a long thin box wrapped in purple foil, waiting on the table.

" Edward left it for you this morning," Winter had said.

Amanda had taken up the package and shaken it gently.

" Oh, just open it." Eloise had said in exasperation.

" Should I?"

" He assured me it was nothing embarrassing." Eloise replied drily.

Peeling back the foil had revealed a creamy wooden box with gold leaf accents

Inside of the box, she had discovered a locket. A stylized oval locket, consisting of polished coral encompassed by gold filigree. Over the coral lay a delicately carved, lace-like cameo bust of mother-of-pearl.

Except for having Roman clothing and hairstyle, the woman resembled Amanda very closely.

Amanda had fallen in love with it immediately, and after a short debate, they had all agreed it would be appropriate for her to wear it with her wedding dress, provided that Amele change the color of the rosette from lavender to coral.

Now, as they danced, it hung around her slender neck, on it's elaborate chain of delicate, inter-locked flowers, the pendant resting just above the swell of her bosom.

" Corallium secundum, in a rather rare shade. I couldn't help but be reminded of your hair, when I saw it." he confessed. " You seem just as fiery and delicate."

With a shy smile, she returned her face to his shoulder. Behind him, she espied Amele, dancing with a man that could only be Jean-Paul, her husband. The top of his head only came to Amele's nose, and was as bald as an egg on top. When Amele glanced up and caught Amanda's eye, she gavea dramatic wink, and grinned, showing her lovely gapped teeth.

This time when the music changed, Amanda found herself handed off to the man Eloise had earlier danced with. This was Edward's friend and chess partner, Colonel Giles Barkwater.

Barkwater had become colonel by running away from the Wizarding world in his youth and joining the Muggle army. Retired now, his only battles were fought after dinner and brandy, over the chess board. Amanda learned this much during his extremely fast dance. He was a jovial fellow, but she was relieved when another person cut in to the dance, at a much more normal pace. A glance across the room showed Edward dancing with Stella, who was lecturing him about something, while he looked indignant.

Returning her face to her partner's, Amanda was suddenly frozen by the man's face. He was a youngish man, with nondescript brown hair, a square face and close set blue eyes. He seemed vaguely familiar, and might have seemed kind, or even intelligent, had it not been for the rather sullen expression with which he regarded her. His grip on her arm was uncomfortably tight, yet he kept her a safe distance from his immaculate suit.

" Well, you've done well for yourself, haven't you?" he asked.

" I'm sorry? I don't believe we've been introduced."

" Hmmm...I don't believe so either. Now why do you think that is?" he asked in a thoughtful tone.

" You're hurting my arm, sir."

" I suppose you'll get accustomed to that, unfortunately."

" I don't understand. "

" You will understand. Do you know who I am?" he asked, easing his grip, slightly.

" No."

" Elias Ollivander Blackmoor." his tone was slightly contemptuous, of herself or his own name, she couldn't be certain.

" Oh. " she came to a halt. " I'm sorry I haven't had the chance to meet you before. Have-"

" You needn't play with me. I have no interest in your little games. " he jerked her slightly back into the dance, smiling without humor.. " I just wanted to come and see the little Muggle girl that not only captured my father's attention, but has my good friend Martin in such a state of distress. I'm rather disappointed actually. You know my mother, she was a beautiful woman."

" Well, I'm very glad for her." Amanda replied coolly.

He shrugged.

" Well she survived him. He really can be a-"

His face broke suddenly into such a winning smile, that she was disoriented. Had he been teasing? A step-son's joke on a new mother? Then she saw the reason for his false amiability. Edward was striding toward them.

" Good afternoon Father. And _congratulations_. She really is charming." Elias passed her to his father.

" Thank you." Edward replied, taking her arm. " I'm honored you could be here. And how are the Blackmoor's?"

" Oh...you know. As well as can be expected, what with this law. Fancy that, Father. People like us...forced into such unions." he shook his head sadly.

Edward and Elias exchanged a few more clipped pleasantries, before Edward led Amanda back to the table. After he had seated her and called for her another glass of champagne, he rubbed his forehead and sighed.

" I'm sorry if he said anything rude to you."

" He wasn't really being rude." she assured him, only to have her nervous eye begin to flicker a slightly He noticed, and gave the slightest smile. " He was merely testing me."

Edward kissed her hand and they turned to watch the dancers.

The party went on all afternoon. There were some Wizarding games, and then a feast which consisted of samplings of foods from around the world, including, Amanda noticed, her own American South. She gratefully enjoyed a plate of the first white hominy she had seen in over eleven months.

The whole time the festivities were going on, Polly, and two temporary servants hired for the day, were moving Amanda's things to her new house, which had been opened and aired. She had asked that as little was to be uncovered and cleaned as possible. She wanted to do that much herself, and he had agreed. It seemed foolish to take the time, even with magic, to clean the entire house, when she would only see it for two days before they left for Paris. Courtesy of Eloise.

Elias had disappeared shortly after their meeting, and Amanda wisely did not inquire further about him. She wasn't sure that she wanted to know the details of Edward's first marriage, at any rate.

At last the time had come to leave. The send-off was enthusiastic, not because the guests particularly wished them well, but because the alcohol had flowed freely, and the desserts had been expensive. It had startled Amanda a bit when everyone began to shoot sparks, confetti and colored rice from their wands, complete with loud noises, pops, whistles and music.

Edward and Amanda stepped out beneath the canopy of magic sparks, and as soon as they passed Eloise's ward, he Disapparated them, before someone could catch her dress on fire. Safe on their own doorstep at last, they both took a well earned breath, and sighed in relief. She needed a moment to collect her whirling mind, as Apparation, and Disapparation were a means of travel she had only experienced once or twice.

The sky overhead was clear, and starry, and instinctively they both gazed upwards for a few moments. The air was still cool however, much cooler than she was used to, and she tried to suppress a hard shiver.

" Well...I suppose we should go inside." he murmured at last, reaching to unlatch the door.

As soon as he entered, he gave a wave of his wand and several antique gasoliers ignited. He then took her cloak, which Stella had hastily thrown about her shoulders as she left the house, and hung it neatly on the hall tree.

" The grand tour?" he asked, guiding her into the main house. He then led her through the rooms, one by one, waving lights on and off for her. Downstairs there was a long, old fashioned kitchen, with a rough wooden work table; a dining room, a study, a library, a parlor and a maid's room behind the kitchen. There were two staircases. The main one that led upstairs from the foyer, and then a steeper, narrower back stair in the kitchen.

Upstairs there was a set of double rooms, joined by a bath. Two smaller bedrooms, a hall bath, and a large laundry cupboard. An empty room at one end was filled with stored items, and he mentioned that there was more furniture in the attic.

At the far end of the upstairs hall, a door opened out onto a small balcony.

In all of the rooms, the furnishings were covered with white dustcloths, the rugs were rolled up and propped in the corners. Even the desks, tables, and shelves were covered, obviously with whatever objects they had held still in place.

She was overcome with a desire to strip away the coverings and explore all of the nooks and crannies. She resisted the temptation to peek under even one corner, as he gestured for her to proceed into the kitchen once more.

" Sit down, Amanda." he said. It was the first time she had heard him call her anything except

" Miss Garrett" But then, she was no longer Miss Garrett, was she?

A bottle of cold champagne sat on the table, and he insisted she have another glass. She was grateful enough for it, even if she didn't enjoy drinking it, it gave her something to fiddle with, and occasionally hide behind. She felt a little light-headed.

" Amanda, we need to discuss our arrangements." he said bluntly.

He went on to offer the chance to ' take the second chamber', a term she quickly understood to indicate the marriage would be in name only, and therefore illegal.

Of course the Ministry would find out, they had a binding charm on the contract they had signed, and it was only viable through midnight.

After that, his rights would be completely stripped, his wand broken,and they would most likely be banished from the Wizarding world.

When Amanda declined his selfless offer, he gave his secondary offer, which was that she could have the same freedoms , after the Ministry's requirements were met and a healthy, magical child was born to her.

He wouldn't allow her to decline that offer, but told her to answer him when the time came. She finished her drink.

They talked. The table wavered pleasantly under her hand, and when she wriggled her fingers, her ring shone dully.

The hall clock struck nine, and she froze. Three hours to midnight. Three hours. It would take at least five to walk to the stairs, she was sure. Especially the way the room was tilting.

When he reached across the table, and took her hand, she started, nearly upsetting her glass. She gave a nervous laugh.

" Shall we go upstairs?" he asked.

Amanda only nodded, her eyes wide, her bottom lip captured in her teeth.

He helped her to her feet, and she instantly stumbled against him. As easily as though they had known each other for years, he slipped a supporting arm around her waist, and led her to the staircase.

A wave of his hand extinguished the kitchen candles, and re-lit the gasoliers that led the way to the rooms above. This time he did not lead her into any of them. Instead, he released her waist, slowly, once they came to the master chamber.

" I'm stepping out for a cigarette." he informed her, nodding toward the balcony door at the end of the hall.

When she fumbled at the door handle he opened it for her, and held the door until she could enter. He lit the candles, then turned to leave.

As soon as the door closed, Amanda began attempting to remove her wedding dress.

He was nearly to the end of the hall, when she suddenly realized, with the greatest mortification, that Amele had charmed the knots on the dress, so that it was impossible for her to unlace herself!


	17. Chapter 17 The New House

_**Nothing's quite as pretty as Mary in the morning**_

_**When through the sleepy haze I see her lying there**_

_**Soft as the rain that falls on summer flowers**_

_**Warm as the sunlight shining on her head**_

_**When I awake and see her there so close beside me**_

_**I want to take her in my arms,**_

_**The ache is there so deep inside me**_

_**Nothing's quite as pretty as Mary in the morning**_

_**Chasing the rainbow in her dreams so far away**_

_**And when she turns to touch me I kiss her fingers so softly**_

_**And then my Mary wake to love and love again**_

_**---**_

_**Be still my beating heart**_

_**It would be better to be cool**_

_**Its not time to be open just yet**_

_**A lesson once learned is so hard to forget**_

_**Be still my beating heart**_

_**Or Ill be taken for a fool**_

_**Its not healthy to run at this pace**_

_**The blood runs so red to my face**_

_**Ive been to every single book I know**_

_**To soothe the thoughts that plague me so**_

_**I sink like a stone thats been thrown in the ocean**_

_**My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion**_

_**Stop before you start**_

_**Be still my beating heart**_

_**Restore my broken dreams**_

_**Shattered like a falling glass**_

_**Im not ready to be broken just yet**_

_**A lesson once learned is so hard to forget**_

* * *

--The New House--

The sun rose over a tangled garden. It illuminated the tall narrow house, the rickety looking balcony, and a neat row of fifteen fresh cigarette butts, all only half-smoked, lying on the splintery railing.

Inside the house, Amanda indulged herself in a non-ladylike, but extremely satisfying stretch before opening her eyes. For the briefest moment she was disoriented, as her gaze fell on the shoulder high walnut wainscoting along the wall.

As she recalled everything, her face broke into a smile, and she turned her head, only to be disappointed when she found herself to be the bed's sole occupant. Seeing one's spouse in the early morning was supposed to be one of the many privileges of marriage.

A glance at the small bedside clock, however, showed that early morning had long passed, and it was now a quarter of noon. She stumbled out of the bed, and made her way to the bath. Polly was supposed to be here already, to help her pack for her 'honeymoon', but she didn't bother ringing for her. Instead she locked the bathroom door, and began filling the large tub with water.

One of the oddities about the Wizarding world, was that they had no showers that she had discovered. Not that she minded, baths were nice enough, it just seemed that with unlimited magical capabilities, showers would have been 'invented' here at some point. Or at least in some fashion.

She was grateful enough for running, hot water.

A glance in the mirror made her wince. Her make-up was now smudged or missing, and she had pillow creases along her cheek. Perhaps it was a good thing her husband hadn't seen her first thing in the morning. She somewhat less than human, in her own opinion.

She was a little surprised to discover that she didn't look any different, physically. She felt she should look older. Or, altered. Wiser? There was no evidence on her person, or in her eyes to suggest what had taken place.

Unconsciously, she began humming " La Vie En Rose" as she slipped into the bathtub, sank to her ears and closed her eyes. She was startled some time later, by Polly's knock and call. Had she dozed off? The water was cool.

" Need any help, Miss Amanda?"

" No thank you Polly, I...Oh yes, I need a _dress_! I completely forgot, I don't know where my clothes are! "

When Amanda had finished her toilette, a much simpler process than the one the day before, since it required only a small amount of mascara, she let Polly dry her hair quickly with a charm. Then she dressed in a soft cotton skirt, brown with mauve rose buds, and a soft, thin brown sweater with a lace collar.

Tying her hair up in loose knot, she was about to leave the room when Polly stopped her, and indicated a breakfast tray resting on a small round table.

" Oh, Polly...I'm not hungry."

Polly remained adamant.

" Mr. Ollivander _insisted_ on it.Before he left, he said, Polly, you're not to let her set foot out of the room unless she eats. "

Amanda grudgingly sat down and opened the tray. Inside was a dish of strawberries, a small bowl of dipping chocolate, and some toast.

Polly began tidying up with nonchalant wand motions. Amanda tried one of the strawberries, then devoured the toast. Perhaps she was a _bit_ hungry.

" Did he say where he was going?" she asked.

" Not to me. But he left a note for you under there, under the tea pot. "

Amanda lifted the pot, and pulled out a scrap of foolscap over which his handwriting, which was very slanting and even, had been applied with obvious care..

He wrote that he had gone to the Ministry to clear up the last bit of paperwork, then to the shop to be sure it was closed down properly for his absence. He promised her a better, late luncheon after his return, which should be at two o'clock.

Amanda ate two more strawberries, then jumped to her feet, brushing her hands off.

" What should I do first?" she asked Polly. She was aware that the other girl was watching her closely. No doubt searching for anything to gossip over later with Eloise. " I think I'll explore some of the downstairs rooms."

She took the note to the silver box on one of the bureaus. It had once contained letters from J.H. Hannigan. Now she carefully lay Edward's note inside. In a few months, the box would be nearly full.

Downstairs, she and Polly began in the parlor, uncovering pieces of furniture one at a time.

The first piece was a swan fainting couch, upholstered in diamond tufted, grey fabric. The backpiece was a high, elegantly arched swan, carved from rich walnut.

She ran her fingers over the details, amazed by the intricate care taken with the texture of the feathers, wondering how many people had rubbed their hands along the arch over the years.

" This is beautiful."

" Yes it is. Sit down, and see if it's soft." Polly urged.

Amanda seated herself on the edge, then slowly reclined.

" Very soft!" she noted. Playfully, she threw one arm over her forehead, and sighed, imitating a swoon.

Polly giggled.

" Did women truly faint enough to _need_ a special sofa?" Amanda laughed, rising from the couch. " Try it. "

" Oh, maybe I shouldn't."

" Sure you should. I want to see what it looks like."

Polly lay down stiffly, and reclined against the rest. As soon as she sank into the soft material, she smiled.

" Oh, it is soft!"

Amanda regarded her from a distance, one finger thoughtfully placed on her chin.

" Hmmm...very artistic Let's see what else is hidden!"

They spent the next half hour pulling covers from different shapes, revealing tables, two wingback armchairs, a settee, two side chairs, three glass bookcases, and, best of all, a rosewood pianoforte. Amanda clapped her hands together in delight, and sat down to it immediately.

" Let's see can the old girl _sing_!" she murmured to herself, carefully opening the delicate, inlaid lid.

Striking the keys experimentally, she was pleased to hear perfectly tuned, melodious music ring out through the house, cutting through the austere silence that clung to all houses that sat empty for too long. She was sure that she could sense the walls cringing, the paintings awakening, the chairs glancing around to discover who or what had disturbed their slumber.

She played through a short piece, and sat for a moment, listening to the fading reverberation. It had been too long since she had touched ivory keys, and she hadn't realized how much she had missed it. Her hands went instinctively for the keys again but he stopped herself. There were things to be done, and if she let herself, she could remain here for hours, trying to remember her grandmother's piano repertoire.

It struck her suddenly how far she had come in only eleven months. Could it really have been less than a year ago that she was seated in a house in Louisiana, playing music while her mother embroidered and her father read from a Dicken's novel? Dombey and Son, perhaps. It was his favorite.

" That was lovely." Polly said, at last, breaking into her reverie.

Amanda smiled.

" Thank you. It's been a long time since I played." she stood and closed the lid, hastily wiping at the tears that threatened to form.

" I think I shall examine the kitchen. I hope it has a real stove, that a Muggle can use." she said, moving toward the back of the house.

" Well, if not, I can always help."

" I know. It's just I was always raised to believe that a wife, no matter how rich, or how much a lady, was supposed to know how to turn her hand to the romantic art of cooking." Amanda recited her Grandmother Garret's words. " Besides, I enjoy it. " she added.

" Look at that stove, Ms. Amanda! Won't be either of us cooking on it, I'm afraid!"

Amanda examined the cast iron relic. It seemed to be in fine enough condition. It had a dull, rust colored sheen, but no cracks. It needed a only little polish, and of course, some nice old fashioned stovewood.

" Actually Polly, I think we will both be able to use it just fine." Amanda laughed. "For awhile, at least."

She opened all of the cupboards, and noticed with a bit of confusion that there was no ice box. Even Eloise's house had an ice box! At last she discovered a well-disguised door, built into the wall opposite the stove. When she pressed her hand against it, it opened easily revealing a tall, narrow pantry, that expelled a gust of cold air.

" Cold pantry." Polly informed her." Sometimes, we just use stasis charms to keep the food from spoiling, but they don't always last.This is charmed to stay cold for years."

It was completely empty, save for some ice. Amanda closed it again.

When the hall clock struck two, she was under the sink, examining the plumbing. A little rusty, but otherwise in working order. Hearing the tone of the clock, she leapt to her feet.

" It's time for him to come home! Do I have any dust?" she brushed roughly at her sweater.

" You look fine." Polly assured her, but brushed her seat off anyhow.

Edward was just opening the door as she reached the foyer, and she stood waiting, a bit shyly, as he hung up his hat and dropped a walking stick into the wooden receptacle attached to the hall tree.

For a moment they simply regarded each other. There were too many things to say, and at the same time, nothing to be said. It was smooth easy silence. Finally she held both of her hands out to him, her gesture of friendship and acceptance. He took them gratefully, placing a kiss on each, before she led him inside, smiling.

" Did you sleep well?" he asked, searching for something, anything to say.

" Yes. Wonderfully."

" I see you've been busy." he noticed the pile of white furniture covers.

" Yes. I hope you don't mind."

" Amanda, I told you. The is your house now. Did you find anything of interest?"

" Yes, it's all wonderful. Especially this couch." she pointed to the swan chaise.

" Ahhh...yes..." he touched the carved wood wither an expression akin to reverence.She noted that one of his cuffs was tattered. Something that could easily be mended. " It was my mothers."

" Oh. Should...should I re-drape it?"

" No. An object is only sad when it is no longer used. I believe it suits you. "

He urged her to be seated, then stood back to observe her.

" Yes...almost perfect. It should be closer to the fire though, so you don't catch chill. And I would like to see it recovered in coral satin."

" It might clash with my hair."

" I'll have Polly send an order to Mr. Trimmer." he ignored her. " We'll have it professionally re-upholstered. No temporary charms. Then I think Polly can have the afternoon off, if you don't object."

" No, that is fine. "

He made to call Polly, but she stopped him.

" Can...can't I at least have a kiss?" she blurted out.

He regarded her with well disguised suspicion, searching her face for any signs of her true underlying purpose. She seemed guileless enough, her grey eyes were open and honest...and for some unfathomable reason, that worried at him greatly. He kept his composure though, and merely joked drily;

" I've never seen the harm in indulging a lady." He bent neatly from the waist and brushed a quick kiss to her lips.Unexpectedly he had to brace himself with one hand on the back of the chaise, and it was only the clang of Polly dropping something in the kitchen that reminded them they were not alone in the house yet.

He pulled back hastily, one hand held protectively and defensively over his heart. Polly was called and given an order to take to Mr. Trimmer, and when he told her to not return until the next morning, to help Amanda pack for their trip, he gave her a handful of coins for the trouble of running errands.

Once she had departed merrily, he asked Amanda if she had discovered anything else of interest in the house, so far.

" Yes. Did you know that you have a pianoforte?"

" Ah, yes...My Aunt Gertrude used to sing duets with it."

" It's still in tune."

" She never was. So, do you play?"

" Oh, just a little. I was required to learn as a child."

" I would like to hear."

" Now?" she asked blushing.

" Why not? " he led her to the instrument and helped her to sit. " It's been years since I heard anyone play."

She opened the yellowed music book that was propped on the rack, and flipped through it. It would be hours of practicing before she would attempt anything too dramatic. She chose Fur Elise, and took a deep breath. Halfway through, she noted that the piano seemed to have a sort of charm placed the keys so that they felt like silk under her fingers. It was no effort at all to strike them, and she began to play faster and faster.

When she finished, breathing excitedly, she was surprised by his polite clap.

" Just a little!" he exclaimed. " Is there anything else you cannot play very well?"

She grinned.

" I don't know. Let's see."

* * *

_Mary in the Morning_-Lyrics, (Johnny Cymbal / Michael Rashkow

_Bestill My Beating Heart_-Lyrics, Sting


	18. Chapter 18 The First Months

_**Author's Note-** Thank you Authoress4eternity for the splendid review! I am very glad you took a chance on reading the story, and I hope the following chapters won't disappoint you!--Fairlight  
_

* * *

_This ole house once knew his children_

_This ole house once knew his wife_

_This ole house was home and comfort_

_As they fought the storms of life_

_This old house once rang with laughter_

_This old house heard many shouts_

_Now he trembles in the darkness_

_When the lightnin' walks about_

_Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer_

_Ain't a-gonna need this house no more_

_Ain't got time to fix the shingles_

_Ain't got time to fix the floor_

_Ain't got time to oil the hinges_

_Nor to mend the windowpane_

_Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer_

_He's a-gettin' ready to meet the saints_

* * *

--The first months--

Eloise had arranged for the married couple to ' vacation' in Paris, the city which she insisted was the only city in which to honeymoon. This generous gift included restaurant reservations, and tickets to her choice of entertainment, both Magical and Muggle.

Noting each other's lack of enthusiasm for the location, they had discussed and decided against Paris. Not that they didn't appreciate Eloise, but at times her generosity was overshadowed by her idealism.

When Edward asked what she personally wanted to do, Amanda answered that she would like to see Venice. When he was asked the same question by her, he replied at length that he would like to take her to see La Boheme, performed only as Wizards could perform opera. With fireworks.

It was small rebellion against Aunt Eloise, and they did have the decency to feel slightly guilty. That did not hinder them from leaving early in the morning, and never thinking twice about Paris. Venice was a delight; Amanda was certain she had never seen a lovelier city, but the canals, even with the magically propelled, gaudily colored gondoliers, reminded her of her home. For once, she was not stricken with a horrible homesickness, but just the joy of admiring something familiar.

They returned to England in July. The temptation to linger in foreign places had nearly overwhelmed them more than once, but eventually his desire to return to his shop and her desire to begin her new life, had been sharp enough to penetrate through the enjoyment they were finding in freedom.

Being away, and alone, had been quite beneficial. They were no longer complete strangers, and the distance of the Ministry from their lives allowed a tentative amount of romance to creep into their daily interaction. In the awkward manner of arranged marriages friendship had to follow the fact--but they were fortunate enough to share many interests and sentiments.

Upon returning, however, they discovered it was much simpler to be away. The following months were nearly as hectic as the months before their wedding had been. The day after their arrival home, Edward was eager to re-open his shop, and he invited Amanda to visit it for the first time after lunch.

She marveled for quite some time over the excruciating neatness, and the overwhelming amount of wands. The shop was stern, yet eccentric, and gave the appearance of harboring great secrets within it's shadowy corners. It had made her uneasy at first, until she learned that the tingling and drowsiness was caused by the magic in the wands. She learned to resist and ignore the sensation, and after some time, she was not only comfortable in the shop, but looked forward to going.

She discovered that for all of the outward appearance of neatness in the business half of the shop, he had allowed the the back room and office to fall into chaotic disarray. The books and receipts were not only disorganized, but covered with dust and cobwebs.

His method had been for quite some time now, to simply scrawl the date, wand type,price, and purchaser onto a scrap of paper, and drop this into a wooden receptacle under the desk. This box had become overfilled several years ago, and now, though the ticket was aimed at top of the pile, it usually fluttered to the floor, or triggered a paper avalanche.

He had appeared very sheepish when she discovered this mess. If she had asked, he would had defended himself, pointing out that he had very little time for tidying, his efforts being spent in designing, carving, finishing, charming, and selling the _product_. Not to mention the sometimes laborious task of seeking out rare and expensive magical ingredients to place inside.

This was true. All of this work was his alone, as he had never hired an apprentice, or even a clerk. He had never discovered a person in whom he could lay absolute trust.

Elias...well, he had always hoped, when younger, that Elias would become his assistant one day. He had taken it for granted, actually. There had never been a time in the history of the Ollivander's that a son did not take on the father's or grandfather's shop. It had passed in a direct line, from male heir, to male heir, since the very beginning. This was their kingdom, and with it was supposed to come the love and pride of fine craftsmanship.

When Elias had refused, even _ridiculed_ the very idea that he would be expected to _work_, Edward had simply resigned himself to the fact that he would be the last of the wandmaker's dynasty, and that the respect and history of the business would die along with himself.

He had subsequently closed himself into the shop, throwing all of his energy into his art, eventually even moving permanently into the flat above, and had remained there, until...Amanda.

Amanda did not remark on the untidiness, even though she could see that he was not pleased with himself. She did not ask to see the flat above. She considered that to be his private sanctuary, a male domain where he kept, and had kept for nearly thirty years now, his personal effects and masculine secrets.

Slowly, he made the complete transition himself from his bachelor's flat to the house; every so often bringing home articles of clothing, a book or two, a box of supplies. She knew when he brought home his chessboard, and set it up in the parlor, that he was completely hers. (Over their honeymoon he had mentioned several times his sincere enjoyment of the game, and offered to teach her to play. )

Edward's request was that Amanda should do with the house as she pleased, and it would please him very much if she made at least enough alterations to erase the brief memory of Dinah form the walls and rooms. He wanted it to be Amanda's home; their home.

So, with the help of Polly, Winter, and Estella; ( even occasionally Edward) Amanda freshened the house up considerably, uncovering and rearranging the furnishings, changing out the paintings, charming the colors to change on the draperies and rugs.

Though the difference was not great,( she had wanted to retain some of the house's original charm.) he had been pleased with the changes.

They had altered the wallpaper from it's exhausted green, to a flocked paper of coquelicot, with gold scrolls. The walnut wainscoting was had polish to a handsome gleam, the draperies changed to dull gold satin. The swan chaise had been recovered in the coral satin of his choice, but the rest of the furniture--or at least that which was not wood, was either gold, or oxblood, which lent the entire first floor a warm, rich ambience.

She was overwhelmed, but pleased, to discover in the china cupboard, a service for fifty, complete with the serving dishes, and even china napkin rings. The pattern was of poppies, in nearly the exact shade as her new walls.

Once the house was satisfactory, but not overly done, ( she wanted to enjoy working on it over time.) Amanda inquired of Edward as to whether there might be something she might do to help him.

At first, he had pulled back defensively. He didn't need _help_. He never had. It would be an invasion, a thing he could not fathom.

She did not ask again; simply let her offer, and his non-committal answer stand. They fell into a easy, and congenial routine.

He re-opened his smaller shop in the village, and two days a week he spent there from six in the morning to noon. Then he would close, have lunch at home, and Floo to Diagon Alley, where he finished the workday.

She would walk to the Village every day. This shop, small and closed for so long, was still organized, though musty.

He had spent one of their Sundays casting cleaning charms, and then importing some inventory. She spent that entire day with him, helping to stock the shelves, and listing the wands in the new ledger, which crackled delightfully when opened, in only the way that new leather books can _crackle_.

When he saw what fine, tall, well rounded handwriting she had, he began to bring her the receipts and books, a little at a time.

Happy to be useful, Amanda soon had all of the accounts straightened, the inventory labelled and catalogued, and her husband duly impressed.

Before long, she was also returning to Diagon Alley with him after lunch, to spend an hour or so assisting him. First with the inventory and the accounts.

One day, about three months after they had been married, he asked her to help him with cleaning a newly carved set of wands. They had to be wiped down gently with a special solution, to remove the oils from their hands before the polish was applied.

Having her to do this simple, but important and time consuming task freed more of his time to devote to the finishing of many wands that had fallen behind schedule.

Sundays were days of rest. They spent them alone; for Polly spent that day with her family. At first these Sundays were restless and awkward. They were still very much strangers to one another, unsure of what to say, or do.

They spent the hour after breakfast reading from the paper and discussing the articles. Amanda of course had many questions, and he was very patient about answering them, though inwardly he was sometimes irritated at Stella for having kept her so ignorant of the Wizarding World.

After the paper, there was a game of chess to be played, ( in which Amanda would inevitably lose, but with good grace,) lunch to be planned, a walk to enjoy, and individual pursuits and projects to be faced.

They spent the late afternoon in the garden, where Amanda would write poems on her little lap desk, and Edward would either read from one of the periodicals he enjoyed, work on some of the finer carvings, or walk around admiring the ivy and roses that they had decided to leave wild and tangled.

Sunday evening was Amanda's favorite time. They might light the fire in the library,( it was always cool enough for a fire in the library.) and share a seat on the leather sofa. To begin with, they would read to themselves; but very soon they developed the habit of reading aloud from a book, alternating between Wizarding texts, and Muggle literature.

Or, they might sit in the parlour, and Amanda would play the pianoforte, sometimes stumbling over the notes she should know so well, simply because when he watched her, his gaze was so intense as to almost burn her skin. He liked best when she played over

' Musetta's song' from La Boheme, the opera they had enjoyed on their honeymoon.

If she were tired, or didn't feel like playing, she would bring out her record player in her stead. She had refused to trade her beloved childhood gadget for a Magical system.

However at first she had been puzzled, nearly to the point of devastation about how to play it. There was very little electricity in the Wizarding world. Eloise had electricity, but only because she wanted to annoy her more traditional neighbors. Edward's house had no electricity,but after a quick perusal of the players innards Edward quickly performed a spell, and the record player had begun to work it's own magic.

Of course, they had some moderate disagreement over aesthetics. Edward was not nearly so fond of Barry Manilow as she was...though he tolerated it behind his book, for her sake.

Occasionally Stella came by during the day, to chat, and perhaps to escape from Agnes' wedding preparations. Sometimes she would take Amanda back for short visits, and once Amanda had offered to help with the wedding, but Agnes had shunned the offer as sure as if were contaminated with pox.

Suitably chastised, Amanda withdrew and kept out of the affairs of Rookwood house. She had plenty of tasks to keep her occupied at home anyhow, as she insisted on doing much of the general cleaning by hand, much to Polly's chagrin, and a great amount of decorative sewing and needlework, such as new cushions, table linens and a few wall-hangings.

It surprised her one day, while seated alone in the parlor with her sewing, to suddenly be overcome with a mood of utter contentment. She had thought of herself as already content, but this contentment washed over with such poignant clarity, that she felt as though she had never in her life known something so pure. a

Had she been so busy that she forgotten to notice? Or was it that the house had decided at that moment to accept her? That is what it felt like, a gentle squeeze by the air around her as though it offered an affectionate embrace.

No...that was silly, wasn't it? She smiled at herself and put her work to the side. Out of the window she could see the tree lined lane. The house had been built by Edward's great-great-great-great-grandfather, when the village had been exclusively a Wizarding community. It wasn't until the forties that Muggles, attracted by the charming view, had begun building their version of a village against the one the Wizards had so diligently kept hidden.

Edward's grandfather had reworked the charms on the house, so that it's front gate opened onto the Wizarding side of the world, but the high garden wall in back faced the Muggle side, and was virtually invisible to them. Regardless of this precaution, and the beauty of the house itself, Edward's first wife, Dinah, had remained only three short weeks.

During that time her mood had been so unbearably morose, that he was easily convinced to purchase, though not without help from her family, the more glamorous London town house. Much more suitable for entertaining friends.It had a bitter edge under it's dark beauty. He had hated it, but had been bound to it until they divorced.

He had told Amanda that much. Every so often little fragments of the past would fall into their casual conversation.It was very confusing to her, this woman Dinah, who had apparently come from a better family. What was she like? How had she come to marry him? She didn't dare ask.

She was content enough to be in Dinah's place now. Enjoying the house. _Her _house now, with it's peaceful view, and soft carpets.

Smiling, she turned back to her work.

* * *

This Ole House-Lyrics, Stuart Hamblen 


	19. Chapter 19 The Course of Nature

_To really love a woman  
Let her hold you -  
til ya know how she needs to be touched  
You've gotta breathe her - really taste her  
Til you can feel her in your blood  
N' when you can see your unborn children in her eyes  
Ya know ya really love a woman--_

* * *

--The Course of Nature--

Amanda had not been invited to Agnes' wedding, which occurred in late August. Stella told her later that it had been a very large affair; Agnes being the sort that wanted the best of everything. In _large_ quantities. It even earned a two page article in Witch Weekly.

Amanda had been a slightly disappointed to discover that the groom was no one she had heard of. What with the manner in which Agnes had been flaunting his secret identity, she had almost believed it was a celebrity of sorts.

Well, in a sense he was known...just not _well _known. And certainly not well received, she learned.

His name was Adelfried Umbridge, and according to Arthur Weasley, he had been arrested twice for endangering the lives of Muggles,

( once with poisoned candles, and a second time with cursed letterboxes.)

He was a very prolific underground writer, having penned many anti-Muggle poems, magazine articles, pamphlets, and speeches. He was a second cousin to the Minister of Magic, and third cousin to many other respected or well known Wizards, including one or two that worked for the Ministry, and he was very adamant about trying to get certain 'laws' pushed into effect.

Amanda had been confused at first as to why Agnes would want such a union. Winter tried to explain that, like many who weren't pure-blooded, Agnes resented her status, and took great pains to promote herself as a humble follower of everything pureblood.

Apparently, there was no shame in toadying.

After the wedding, Agnes and her new husband had departed on what she termed a 'retreat'. This meant they would be gone for three months, researching Muggles for a new book they were 'destined' to co-author.

As soon as possible after their departure, Stella had procured some of Umbridge's pamphlets and they had all been equally appalled. Not so much with his views, but with his blunt, aggressive words, and his violent solutions. He addressed the marriage law specifically in one , saying that he, at first, had been opposed. What pureblood witch or wizard wouldn't be?

Just when he had been on the brink of despair, and considering suicide as the only means with which to preserve his purity, he had witnessed a vision, and that vision had changed his point of view. ( _how_ fortunate, Stella commented drily.)

He went on to describe how useful the half-bloods could be if kept under control. Many of them were _ashamed_ of their parentage, and therefore willing to actively participate in the Side of Good. Only by submitting themselves to Pureblood spouses, could half-bloods be cleansed, and purified. He also recommended mind-control spells, truth serums, beatings; and mourned the fact that Unforgivable curses weren't allowed.

His other, equally grisly pamphlets addressed a variety of subjects; such as his visions, how children should be raised, the necessity ( and grisly technique) of eradicating certain magical creatures, and why common people shouldn't be allowed to eat any foods that might be considered aphrodisiacal.

In the opinion of the Rookwood women, he was nothing more or less than a dangerous fanatic, and they openly discussed their displeasure that the Ministry was coming to rely more and more on persons of his ilk.

Amanda knew she should be concerned as well, but by the middle of September, she had something more important to occupy her mind. She at last confirmed a suspicion that had been harboring for some weeks...

She was pregnant.

At first she procrastinated in telling anyone, needing some time to convince herself of the truth. After all, she didn't particularly feel any different, except for that tiny excited glow of satisfaction that had been beneath her breast since that day in the parlor.

Once she had thought over it, and could at last perceive herself in the role of mother, she allowed herself to rejoice. It felt right, and it felt good. Her only concern then, was with how _Edward _would react. Certainly he had expected this eventually, but that was no indication of how he might feel personally..

After all, he already had a son. Suddenly, the fact that he seemed to dislike Elias was very important. Would he view all children in the same light?

When she did at last manage, with a good deal of stammering, to inform him of her condition, his reaction was pleasant enough. He showed no less surprise than she, but instead of disbelief, his second emotion was more prideful. And protective.

He suddenly became aware of all the dangerous items and activities that a home could provide, and began listing them all as problems that Polly should handle alone.

Amanda was flattered and allowed him to create the rules,even though she knew that it would be impossible to never endanger herself somewhat. Even climbing the stairs to the bedroom was dangerous to an extent, but she didn't dare breathe a suggestion of this, for fear that he might insist on altering the house to have the bedroom safely in the place of the parlor or library.

He and Polly had already began setting charms that made what he considered to be heavy objects, ( such as water pitchers, pots, chairs, and books) practically float, and weigh no more than feathers.

At first, she was content to fall back into the eider comfort of being pampered. An idle mind, though, is fertile soil for growing doubts and concerns, and it wasn't too long before even Amanda began to harvest a few of her own.

Suddenly, she considered Edward's treatment from another angle. He was being almost too good. This combined with the way in which he delicately kept her at arm's length, led her to wonder if he might only be relieved that his obligations would be fulfilled once the child was born.

She eventually voiced this concern to Amele, who told her she worried to much, and that if she worried too much she would give her child a birthmark.

" A very large red on in the center of it's forehead. Then how would you feel, eh? " Amele teased her.

Amele did not offer advice. One had to learn by observing her actions. She was a devoted mother, and the slightest bit unusual in her practice. She believed that a child could not live without chocolate, rough play, ghost stories, pickles, kisses, dirt, frogs, and good natured threats along the line of;

" Jules! If you don't stop standing on Renee, I am going to cover you with warts!"

or,

" Arden! Don't think I won't sell you to the goblins. Do I need another naughty little boy?"

and he favorite:

" I am going to trade you all in for one girl!"

For all of their energy and inventiveness, Amele's children were not bad children.They laughed constantly. Amanda liked to hold the baby, Renee, even though he was sometimes very sticky, and wanted to play with her hair. He was very soft and had the most wonderfully tiny feet. When he smiled, he had three sets of dimples.

Amele insisted that Amanda stay that evening until Jean-Paul arrived.She wanted her younger friend to see how men loved their children in different ways.

To counter-balance Amele's playfulness, Jean-Paul was a very stern person, outwardly. He arrived home, in his professor's tweeds, ( he taught Muggle mathematics.) and regarded the children sternly. They formed a half-hazard line in front of him, and bounced lightly, and rolled their lips inwards to hide their smiles.

He asked if they had been good children, and two answered yes, while the other two answered no.

" _No_!" he exclaimed in surprise. " You weren't good, not for your _Momma_?"

They shook their heads without shame.

" What is that _you_ have done, Arden, that makes you so bad?"

Arden told his father his list of crimes, but mostly how he had tried to climb on a chair to take down the painting of Amele's grandfather.

" Why did you want to do that?" Jean-Paul asked.

He confessed that he was going to use his ancestor as part of a fort-building project, in which 'grandpapa' would play the role of the window, and could tell him when Jules and Renee were attacking from the 'hills'. The hills being, of course, the attic stairs.

Jean-Paul confessed that this was a very grave offense, and he would have to think on whether or not it should be punished. Then he asked Renee what his crime was, but Renee could only burble and dimple. Franchot, who was still nearly a baby himself, interpreted.

" He fell under Jules and got Jules in trouble." Franchot announced.

Jean-Paul seemed to have a bit of difficulty not smiling, and glowered sternly at Renee, who only shrieked with laughter, and hid his face.

" Well, and let that be a lesson to you." Jean-Paul said with a nod. " Well, I suppose I must give all the candy to Momma. I cannot give it to bad little boys...and it just too delicious to give to only two good little boys...what is Poppa to do?"

He held his arms up in supplication,and this was the children's cue to run to him and begin rummaging in his pockets for candy. Renee was too short, though, and so he lifted him and let him 'find' his treats in his breast pocket.

The encounter cheered Amanda greatly, and she accepted a bite of chocolate from Franchot, who was still too shy to speak to her.

Afterwards, she intentionally forced herself to lay aside all of her doubt, and to spend her time in more useful pursuits.

Amanda soon settled into her new lifestyle, which involved being allowed to sleep in, being required to eat whatever she wanted for breakfast, begin told not to lift this, or do that, and taking a rest at noon.

Her doctor, Healer Thoroughgood was a thin gaunt man with a high reedy voice. He wore a monocle, and had to squint his left eye maniacally to keep it in place. As if it would help, he also had a habit of turning up the left side of his mouth, in a half smile. He was a terrifically nice person however, who loved Muggles, and hated the marriage law.

The wall to his office was covered in photographs of his numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. His wife, Pernicia, who was also tall and reedy, served as his assistant, and wore at all times a tight cap with blue-bird feather at the crown. Amanda liked them very much, though they were a bit unusual, even for the Wizarding world.

After every visit, Pernicia gave her candy, like a small child, and Thoroughgood made predictions about the what the baby would look like, or what it's favorite color would be.

He also encouraged her to take long walks after her noontime rest.

Edward, not liking the idea of her wandering about the village alone, had altered the management of his shops, so that he spent the mornings in Diagon Alley, and the afternoons in the smaller shop. That way, he could spend spend the time form one o'clock to one thirty watching anxiously out the window and being impatient with his customers until he espied her red hair approaching over the hill.

She would spend the rest of the afternoon, helping about the shop, if it were busy enough, then they would close the shop, and walk about the village for a while, before he would Apparate them to Gringott's for the evening deposit.

Then they would return home.

He had soon discovered that she would not break if he touched her, but he wore at all times a look of extreme apprehension. Especially if he saw her climbing stairs, stepping onto curbs, sitting down, standing up, or sleeping in an odd position.

Amele assured her that this was natural, and that she should enjoy it this time, because after three or four, they learn that you can still do the laundry and cook full meals without exploding.

Amanda didn't mind at all.

When Amanda first made the announcement to her family, she had chosen a day when Demogene would be out, wanting to tell her Mother, Grandmother and Aunt first.

Rather than creating the chaos she had suspected, she was certain the proverbial pin could have been heard, even if it had been dropped in the carpeting. The three of them regarded her first with something akin to fascination, and shifted a bit uncomfortably on their chairs.

After some rapid blinking, and a few unreadable glances amongst themselves, they began to stir, and the spark of excitement took flame and began to burn.

She could only wonder what they said about her when she wasn't present.

" Well...are you certain?" was Eloise's first question, and this was met with wry smiles from the other three.

After her assurances to the _positive_, she was suddenly inundated with embraces, advice, superstitions, and questions.At last they asked how she felt, when it was due, whether she wanted anything to eat, and what names she had considered.

She had to blush at that last question. She had completely overlooked the fact that it would indeed need a name, if it were to in anyway resemble a normal child.

Winter then teased Stella about being old enough to be a grandmother, and Eloise in turn teased Winter about her age as a great-grandmother. Eloise and Winter promised to discover the very best healer for her, and Stella began to discuss patterns for knitted baby blankets.

Satisfied that there would be no hysterics, or sentimental tears, Amanda sat back and enjoyed listening to the bickering and planning that passed between Stella and Winter. Rather than being treated for once as an adult, she found herself even more coddled than ever, as they brought her tea, and made her eat crackers and biscuits, and told her to keep her feet warm, and her arms down.

Then, while she was helplessly wrapped in a knitted afghan, her feet to the fire, lap full of cookies, and tea in her hand; she was submitted to the age old tradition that humans had been sharing since the invention of cave-drawings. Family albums.

Stella and Winter summoned over fifty albums of photographs, and portraits--some were the familiar ones that Amanda had been seeing all of her life, while others were strictly Wizarding; it was slightly un-nerving to see images of her ancestors waving and smiling from their little windows. She had to suffer he embarrassment of seeing all of her childhood photographs. The fact that these did not move was a relief to her, as her mother and father had both held a certain knack for catching her at the most un-flattering of moments.

For instance, the photograph in which she was wearing a pea-green jumper and hopping madly up and down in a very thick mud puddle, swinging a jump-rope. It wasn't the mud so much as the fact that she had been caught in mid jump with her face scrunched up in an almost perfect representation of Quasimodo.

Seeing it...she suddenly wondered if it was right at all that she should intentionally pass those genes onto another innocent member of the human race. It was especially disturbing, since a Wizarding photograph of Stella at the same age showed her to be primly dressed in white, playing beneath a shady oak--an entire tableful of china dolls as her companions. In the picture, Stella fed a tea cake to a auburn haired doll, then reached out a hand to rock an elaborate, whipped-wicker doll carriage as she smiled at the photographer.

" Nina!' Stella exclaimed, pointing at the doll. " That was Nina. And this was Fabrette, and Georgine, and Persephone! " she sighed. " I gave them to Demogene and Agnes when I left. Whatever happened to them?"

" I believe a few are in the attic. I know the pram is. I think Nina was broken..."

" That's a shame! But I'll have to go up later and find them. Are you going to have a girl, Amanda? You simply must, so that we can give her the pram. "

" A girl!" scoffed Eloise. " I say we have enough girls around here. I for one would like to see a boy or two."

" My dear Eloise, that was always your problem." Winter retorted.

" Well, what would _you_ rather, Winter?"

" Triplets."

" _Triplets_!"

" Don't even say such things!" Stella said, laughing.

" Girls or boys?"

" Two girls and one boy. Then she can keep one of each and give me a little girl."

' I thought I was your little girl?" Stella pouted.

" Not since you quit letting my put ribbons in your hair."

They returned to the pictures, where they spent the rest of the afternoon, until Edward came looking for Amanda, and was subsequently forced to look at the cute picture of her jumping rope in the puddle. Much to her mortification, and his bemusement.

---

The next afternoon, Stella appeared wearing a pair of Muggle jeans and a white top, which meant that she had either decided to prove that women about to be grandmothers could still have fantastic legs, or that she was going exploring in the attic.

It was to be the attic. Stella had spent the night thinking about her dolls, and how she would like to give one to her grandchild.

" Of course if it is a boy...we can always make a few alterations." she said, before they Apparated to Rookwood.

Stella took Amanda up into the storage side of the attic, where they spent the better part of the evening searching through crates of family heirlooms. It rather said something about the inhabitants of the house, that all of the boxes were stacked in rigidly neat rows, in order of the dates they had been packed and stored. No dust, no cobwebs, no eight legged hermits residing in any crevices. It was immaculate, unlike the end of the attic that Amanda and Eloise had used as a dueling ground.

It was no trouble then to find, in a crate marked as containing Demogene's things, the collection of Stella's surviving dolls. Fabrette, though her lovely auburn hair had been chopped away was still perfect. When Amanda turned her over, a large pair of sapphire blue eyes opened to gaze at her. More rummaging on Stella's behalf and Georgine was uncovered. She was wrapped in a length of black silk, and had a chip on her nose. Amanda felt very sad looking at her, and turned her away.

At the very bottom, the last doll, Persephone, lay sleeping. They both paused before lifting her out. She was wrapped in a stained baby blanket, and had dried food and what look like crusted milk on her painted china face. It looked as though a young child had last played with her, but the date on the box revealed that she had only been packed away a year before Amanda came to England. With a shrug, they took her out. She was just as lovely as the other two, but instead of gold or auburn hair, she had straight black hair that fell down to her waist. Hazel green eyes opened to regard them.

" Oh...she looks like...like you!" Amanda exclaimed.

" Like Winter." Stella corrected. " I did that to he, with my father's help. Mother was always so beautiful...and Elosie too. They looked almost alike." she stroked the dolls hair for a moment, smiling. " This one, don't you think?" she asked.

" Yes! And we can make her a new dress.I don't know if I have any more white material, but maybe--"

Stella rolled her eyes slightly, and handed the doll to her daughter.

" Watch closely." she said, taking out her wand. " Scourgify."

The stains on the dress and face disappeared. A few touches and the lace was repaired, the hair shining once more, and the shoes tied.

" Magic." Stella informed her. It was Amanda's turn to look heavenward in exasperation.

" Sometimes magic takes all the fun out of things." she said.

* * *

Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman-Lyrics, Bryan Adams

* * *


	20. Chapter 20 Crisp

_If manners make the man as someone said  
Then he's the hero of the day  
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile  
Be yourself no matter what they say  
_

_Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety  
You could end up as the only one  
Gentleness, sobriety are rare in this society  
At night a candle's brighter than the sun_

_Takes more than combat gear to make a man  
Takes more than license for a gun  
Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can  
A gentleman will walk but never run_

_If manners make the man as someone said  
Then he's the hero of the day  
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile  
Be yourself no matter what they say--_

* * *

--Crisp--

But sometimes, magic made life ever so much more interesting.

It was a Friday afternoon, not too long before the shop should close, and dusty autumnal light fell in through the grimy windows. Amanda had attempted to clean the glass, but had succeeded in only smearing the brownish dust into a solid film.

She was always intending to bring a cloth and some soap, and do it properly one day, but the joy of her impending motherhood had made her forgetful, and not nearly so particular. Besides, the light quality was vaguely flattering.

She thought that if the light were to make a sound, it would be that of a concertina, breathing in and out, in a tired consumptive fashion. The clouds were covering it and uncovering it, making her have to lean close to the ledgers to work the long colimns of figures growing in the margin.

This task was soothing. Seated high on the stool, her quillscratching, she could watch as Edward stacked and restacked the boxes, idling here, briskly climbing the ladders there. He had a habit of talking to the wands as he moved them around. Take the one and place it on top, the other on the other shelf; all with a certain empathy...as though he were listening to waht they desired.

As a person often chastised by teachers and parents for conversing with herself whenver she had something interesting to say, she was completely sympathetic to him, and to the wands.

The murmuring from behind the shelves was comforting; but beside her, on the counter, lay somehting that was _not_.

Beside her, Edwards measureing tape lay loosely coiled.

Amanda watched it from the corner of her eye.

It had slithered up there only a few minutes ago, and at a sharp glance had froze, reminding her too much of a cat watching a bird.

It had taken to pestering her whenever it could get away from Edward. She had told him once that it seemed to be chasing her, and he had called her claim silly. It was _only_ charmed to take the measurements of the customers.

But the manner in which he said this alerted her to the distinct possiility that he _might_ be teasing. In fact...she had never actually seen him _read_ the measurements off the tape before. Either he had long ago learned to do everything by sight, or the tape was just a prop to make people nervous.

Casually, the tape inched closer, flattening itself out against the wood surface. Closer. It raised up hopefully. When she ignored it., it nudged her wrist. She continued to ignore it even when it raised half of it's length into the air, and sat swaying as idly as a charmed cobra.

The receipts were soon accounted for, and no more customers came in. The shop began to grow sleepy. Amanda took a book from her satchel, and began to read.

" Where is that owl?' Edward suddenly exclaimed, a few moments later.

Amanda looked up, startled.

" What owl is that?"

" _My_ owl!' he stated, incredulously. " I haven't seen him in ages. I wonder did he die of old age? Or just get lost?"

She didn't know.

He scowled thoughtfully at the floor for a moment, then at the ceiling.

" Excuse me a moment!" he sat the last few boxes on the counter beside her, and began to hurry toward the staircase in back, that lead to a small storage room overhead. He was out of sight for perhaps three seconds before he popped his head back around the corner. " Watch the shop for me."

Then he was gone. Amanda blinked at the ceiling as well. He might be,at times, what her American schoolfellows would have called 'spacy', but at least she was seldom bored, and he _seemed_ to be perfectly harmless.

He retunred after a few minutes, with a look of utter relief.

" He isn't up there, at least. " he announced, somberly. Then noticing the tape measure swaying in front of her, he snatched it by it's 'tail', and flipped it across the room.

"No more of that nonsense!" he told it. " Here, let me help you down...we're closing the shop a little early today."

" May I ask why?" she drawled slowly, as she let him set her own her feet.

" We have to go to London. To buy an owl."

" Tonight?" she asked, bewildered.

" Yes, of course." he stared at her as if she were not of this world. Didn't she _know _that they desperately needed an owl tongiht? " You have been writing letters. You said so yourself. Well, _how _are you going to send them?"

Amanda had asked herself the same question. However she had simply been prepared to wait for Eloise or Stella to send Snegourka.

" Here, put your cloak around, I wouldn't want you catching chill..." he said briskly, wrapping the garment around her even as he spoke.

" Could he be over the other shop?" she asked as he hurried her out the door. He paused to contempalte the possibility.

" Nope. Absolutely not. I remember now, exaclty what happened. He was lost at sea."

" Now, how did _that _happen?

" Lost in a gale I suppose. You can never tell. He might be living as we speak on a tropical island, feasting on bananas and small lizards. My unopened letter still chained to his left leg."

If she had learned anything thus far about this strange new world, it was that nothing was too ridiculous to be possible.

Diagon Alley was not as crowded as usual, and they could stroll along without being jostled too badly. The largest crowd was around Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a group of gawping children, and not a few adults, were admiring a broomstick that appeared to be floating in the glass display case.

Edward slowed his pace as well, and came to a stop a few paces away from the crowd.

" The handle is ash..." he said, almost to himself. " Superb craftsmanship, easy to manoeuver. practiclaly indestructable."

" Did you ever play Quidditch?" Amanda inquired.

He contemplated the broom a bit longer. She realized that she had seen no broom except for the very non-magicla utility broom, in his house. Eloise and Winter had an entire closet full, and claimed to have flown them occasionally on cloudy nights. She herself had never seen this.

" No..." he said at last. " Not Quidditch. It was another game, polo . Just like Muggle Polo, only on brooms. Now, _that_ is a game. "

" Were you any good?" she asked flirtatiously.

He rubbed his face absentmindedly for a moment, remembering that long ago plummet.

" For awhile. But then then there was a bit of an accident." he smiled. " Let's move on, shall we?"

" Have you ever been to a polo game? " he asked, as they walked toward Eeylops Owl Emporium.

" No. I've never been to any sporting event."

" Perhaps I could arrange tickets to one. Quidditch, if you like."

" Oh, no...I think I would rather see the polo. Quidditch sounds a little too..." she waved her hand, trying to descibe how it sounded ot her.

" Yes, well, Quidditch is more popular due to the danger, I believe. The height...the bludgers, the speed. I'm afraid the polo isn't quite that exciting."

They had reached the door to the Owl emporium, and he opened it for her. The man behind the counter, obviously prepared to close for the evening, was surprised, and not very pelased, to see Ollivander, and Ollivander's new, young wife, coming in at such a late hour.

" We need an owl." Ollivander informed him gravely. " _Not_ a white one."

The man gestured to the two remaining owls. One was an enormous Phillipine eagle owl, with exquisite plumage, a haughyt air, and a very handsome price tag.

The other was a spectacled owl. Pulsatrix perspicillata, his tag read. Amanda noted with amusement that this advertisement was not just

' whistlin' dixie ' ; the bird also sported a large pair of metal, horn-rimmed glasses, through which it's large yellow eyes peered at her critically.

" I'm sorry but we don't have but the two owls..." the man stated a little rudely "I'm expecting the new shipment on Wedneday, though. Why not wait until then?

Ollivander looked indignant at the suggestion.

" Absolutely _not_. I have come into this owl shop, to purchase an owl. And when I enter a shop to purchase soemthing, I always do just that." he stated dramatically.

Amanda stifled a small laugh, as he began pacing back and forth between the two bird, appraising first one, then the other. Hands clasped behind his back, head tilted to the side, he examined the beak of the Eagle owl, then the feet of the spectacled owl.

Amanda considered them as well. The Eagle owl was perfect. It had a large plump breast, wide spreading wings, and a glossy, healthy sheen.

The other owl however was skinny, and looked a bit on the skittish side. There was a bare ring around it's neck where a collar or something similar had rubbed away the feathers. The rest of it's plumage stuck out in all directions, as though it had been recently frazzled.

After about six or seven minutes of this, the clerk began to show his impatience in a non-tactful manner.

" Now, see here. It's bad enough we have to put up with them kids and all in here everyday. Either you buy an owl or you don't buy an owl. Which is going to be?"

" Sir, you simply do not rush decisions of this level of importance. I beleive the owner of this establishment would understand that, if I brought it to his attention."

The clerk huffed, but said nothing.

" Amanda, " Edward said, motioning for her to join him between the two perches." Now, tell me, which one do _you _favor?"

" Well...this one is the most attractive." she pointed to the eagle-owl. " But he is too big for me to manage. So...I think _that_ one is more to my liking."

" My wife would like _this_ owl." Edward informed the clerk.

" If you kow what's good for you, you won't take that one. He's a crazy brute."

When neither of the customers looked prepared to beleive him, he began to ring up the charge without humor.

" He _is _crazy. " he muttered, as he stuffed the bird into a cage. Amanda became aware of a rather acrid odor, that was not the natural smell of the birds.

" What is that smell?" she demanded.

" Oh, that's his feathers. He was shipped here from an owlery in Scotland that caught fire last month.Struck by lightening. He was nearly burnt to a crisp, and that's why he's not right, in the head."

He tried to hand the heavy cage to Amanda, but Edward intercepted it, giving her a look of warning. She colored slightly, having forgotten for a moment that he did not wish for her to be lifting anything.

They thanked the man, despite his mood, and left the shop, satisfied with their newest purchase.

Once they were home, Amanda let the owl out of the confining little cage, and fed him some leftover bread.

" He'll need a name, I suppose." she said, as he tottered around.

Polly held a hand over her nose.

" He smells just _awful_!"

" The man said he had almost burned in a fire. Burned to a crisp, so he said. I think we'll call him Crisp! If that's fine with you?" she turned to Edward.

He gave a monosyllabalic answer of approval as he held the empty cage as far from his person as was possible.

" We'll convert the balcony into a temporary owlery. I think the fresh air would be an improvement." he said grimly.

" At least!" Polly agreed.

After a few simple spells, he managed a nice domed covering, a large roosting pole, and a replenishing water fountain. Crisp seemed to approve. Later, Edward and Amanda stood admiring their new pet together.

" I wonder..." he mused after awhile." If they ever get tired of having to sleep standing up."

Amanda considered.

" Not just standing," she said. " But sleeping while balancing on a twig, at that."

" May I never be reincarnated as bird." he said, placing an arm around her waist and leading her back indoors.

" Do you beleive in reincarnation?" she asked, surprised.

" Of course! Don't you?"

" I think so...but I've enver met anyone else who would even imagine it."

" I don't have to imagine it. I know for a fact that I have been reincarnated twice, at least."

" Who were you before?" she asked.

" Well, that 's a very personal question." he replied with mock terseness. " I was hinkypunk. It's not a pretty lfe, I don't recommend it. "

" What was the second time?"

" Now that is_ too _personal to tell on such short acquaintance. " He said mysteriously. " Perhaps if you ask in ten years. "

They had at least learned that they had one more thing in common, and as the nights grew steadily cooler, it gave them something to debate in front of the fire, or over the chess board, where she had still never managed to triumph, but nearly always succeeded in making him laugh.

* * *

Englishman In New York--Sting 


	21. Chapter 21 The Nursery

_Do I have to tell the story_

_Of a thousand rainy days since we first met_

_It's a big enough umbrella_

_But it's always me that ends up getting wet_

_Every little thing she does is magic_

_Everything she do just turns me on_

_Even though my life before was tragic_

_Now I know my love for her goes on_

_I resolve to call her up a thousand times a day_

_And ask her if she'll marry me in some old fashioned way_

_But my silent fears have gripped me_

_Long before I reach the phone_

_Long before my tongue has tripped me_

_Must I always be alone?_

_Every little thing she does is magic_

_Everything she do just turns me on_

_Even though my life before was tragic_

_Now I know my love for her goes on--_

* * *

**--The Nursery--**

Reincarnation soon became a favorite topic of debate over the chessboard, where she had yet to satisfy herself with a single victory. It wasn't, she defended herself, that she didn't know how to play strategically, but that she was constantly having to leave the game in a hurry.

Much to her chagrin, she could no longer tolerate certain smells. The most intensely repulsive were those of coffee, ham, any flower except gardenia,(which she craved) , and fruit. Strangely, whereas an apple might send her gagging from the room, Crisp had no effect on her, despite the fact that he smelled of wet ashes and droppings.

Even so, she had developed, prematurely according to Winter, the undeniable urge to clean the house thoroughly. At first it was merely the dusting of the occasional tables, and the sweeping of the kitchen floor. Soon it developed into such a fierce, and overwhelming need to scour every surface, that if the house could have cringed it would have. If it could have pleaded for mercy, it would have.

A few days after purchasing the owl, she had decided it was soon enough to begin converting one of the small bedrooms into a nursery. For this task she invited Winter, and therefore, Stella and Eloise came as well. Even Demogene came for a short while,to coo over the bassinet, and sniffle when she saw the basketful of blankets and diapers that Amanda had been collecting.

Amanda did not particularly like this bedroom, but it was the nearest, and the smallest. It maintained an air of extreme haughtiness about itself that she could not eradicate, even after she had stripped down the drapes, and had the small brass bed banished to the attic.

When Stella commented off-hand that it did not seem too long since someone had occupied this room, Amanda began noticing that it did, indeed still have very fresh feel about it. The carpets were heavy and had been brushed, the bed linens were without dust--the corners without cobwebs.

Winter eyed it from every corner, measuring the angles against the length of her wand. She rolled up her sleeves, and took off her dainty shoes.

" It would be simpler, were we to know the gender..." she said at last.

Amanda, searching through the drawers of the lone bureau, only shrugged.

" I think a yellow? No..._cream_. " she gave a few grand waves, flamboyantly exaggerating the swish and flick required to activate the spells. One by one, the walls became cream--the color beginning at the top, and silkily washing down the wall in the fashion of an Austrian valance being let down after an opera. When it reached the top of the wainscoting, it stopped of it's own accord, perfectly trimmed.

" How do you like that?" she asked.

They all regarded it for a few moments, and eventually agreed that it was very nice.

" What color should the curtains be?" Eloise asked.

" White, I suppose. I guess pale green would be appropriate?" Amanda suggested.

Winter did the nearest thing to rolling her eyes.

" This is the Wizarding world! Anything is appropriate! Reds and blues, purple, orange,_ acid green. _What about magenta?"

" What if it's a boy?"

" Magenta with dancing green and yellow dragons?"

" I--"

" Or I know! Blue with glowing moons?"

" Brown with trees." Stella suggested.

" Blue...with stars would be nice. " Amanda said.

" Stars! Now you are understanding!" she took a set of simple white curtains from her bag, and used her wand to size them and hang them on the window. Then she altered the style and color, added several winking silver stars, and a few small magenta ones. She added a valance.

The carpets were soon silver, and the bassinet cover charmed to match the curtains. Overhead, the ceiling became dark, midnight blue, and pinprick size stars appeared. At specific intervals, a shooting star would course across and vanish in the shadows of a corner.

Eloise had helped with the ceiling, placing stars at what she considered to be important intervals.

Amanda watched in awe as the room took form. It was soothing and mysterious when finished, and she complimented Winter thoroughly for her work. Winter accepted with grace, but she looked pleased with herself as well.

Though it was fun, Amanda found herself looking forward to being alone, as she had discovered, inside the bureau, several letters that had fallen out and wedged themselves behind the drawers. She had meant to pull them put and throw them away, but she saw in the top of one, Dinah's name.

Burning with curiosity, it was all she could do to pay attention on the decorating. However, she had been taken in by the beauty of Winter's work, and after they had finished, they had gone down for refreshments, and she had nearly forgotten the letters. Espeically when, halfway through her swallowing her drink, Stella had stood, waving her arms.

" Oh! I almost forgot!" she said after nearly choking on the tea. " The doll! For the nursery! And after we spent so long looking for her! Where is she?"

" Oh, I set her in the library, she was so beautiful!" she started to rise.

" Don't get up. Demogene can go." Eloise said, gesturing to the the other woman who was seated nearest the library door. " Would you be so kind?"

Demogene set her cup daintily to the side, and slipped from the high stool she had been perched on, her feet, clad in blocky shoes swinging childishly.

" Don't mind _me_..." she said, dramatically." I have nothing better to do than to run errands."

But at the same time she gave them a cheeky smile.

" I could have gone." Amanda said after her cousin had left.

" So could I have. It won't hurt fro her to do us a _small_ favor. She's been awfully broody since Agnes left, poor girl. You would think she would relish the freedom."

" She is her sister though." Amanda corrected. " She would miss her."

" Spoken like an only child." Winter quipped.

Eloise grinned, but only said; " What is taking her so long? DEMOGENE!"

Demogene appeared in the doorway, clutching Persephone carefully in her bony arms. She looked as though she had jsut had a near brush with a Dementor.

" What is it Demogene?" Winter asked.

Demogene's mouth opened and closed a time or two before she composed herself somewhat.

" I...thought she was lost." she caressed the doll's hair." Agnes told me she was lost! She must have told me that ot be..mean. She knew she was my favorite!"

Amanda thought she heard her whisper beneath her breath, somehting that sounded like;

" My only friend."

And felt a surge of overwhelming compassion for the older woman.

" We found her by accident." she said. " You can take her back with you if you like. "

" No that's silly!" Eloise started to argue.

" No it isn't!" Amanda insisted. " I can get a doll anywhere, it doesn't have to be that one."

Demogene looked at her for the first time with something akin to respect, then smiled, and held the doll out.

" I am being sentimental." she said. " It was your mother's doll, it should by right go to you and your children. Here, take her gently." she passed the doll carefully into Amanda's arms.

Amanda cradled it a moment, before passing it to Stella, who took it upstairs, and palced it in a small child size rocking chair.

Once they had gone, it was nearly time for Edward to come home. Amanda left Polly in charge of the evening meal, and rushed upstairs. It took some time to pry the papers from the drawer runners. They had been there for quite some time, and through humidity and pressure had somewhat adhered to the wood.

" Come on..." she urged, trying not to tear the paper. At last they came free, and she eased them out. Spreading them out on top, she counted five letters, and a few scribbled notes. They had been at one time secured with a simple Muggle rubber band, but it had long ago fallen apart.

Hoping to learn something about her predecessor, she opened the first. It was a draft of a letter, with much crossing out, to someone initialed ' V.' Judging by the level of unabashed intimacy, Amanda deduced that the V did not stand for Vincente, Dinah's father. All the letter contained was repetitive descriptions of her boredom; and how much she missed the balls where the mysterious V would remind her of how a woman should feel.

Two of the letters were from V, who did not sign his name, sympathizing with her, flattering her, and begging her to come back to London, and he could dance her at the next cotillion ball.

The next two letters were from a girl that Amamda took to be Dinah's sister ...and Amanda was quite literally shocked to read them. To be girls of superior breeding, they were both of them shallow and vain; but Bec was downright _nasty_. Not only was she vindictive and cruel, but her language was foul, her intentions ghastly, and her conversation boisterous and narcissistic. She was clearly a woman who loved only herself, and therefore, wrote about herself.

Amanda learned little about Dinah, but that she had been bored and unhappy in her marriage, and mourned the leisure of her unfettered youth. She complained of household duties, berating her husband for not having house-elves, and then, in terms that made Amanda color, complained of her wifely duties, as well. On that issue she was firmly convinced that she was being unfairly handled.

Bec however, was soon illustrated in Amanda's mind as the most vile of creatures. In her two lengthy letters, (she was apparently answering letters from Dinah,), she advised her sister towards adultery, saying it was no less than Edward deserved--and not just Edward. Any husband. Bec illuminated these texts with vivid details of her own amorous adventures.

In the first letter, she claimed she would like to hex a certain Annie Grimble.

" I wish there was a hex that would slowly chop her into pieces, beginning at her toes I want her to bleed to death slowly, while feeling the most indescribable pain. If I could rip off her breasts, that might be good. I would like to rip out her private parts and her force her to eat them. I would gladly pour salt water in the gaping hole, and stomp on her fingers while she writhed. "

Amanda gagged a little, but with horrified fascination, continued to read.

" That is how much I just _dislike _her. If it were real hatred, then you know, Dinah, how far I might go. "

In the second letter, she sympathized with Dinah over her suspected pregnancy, and advised Dinah to simply ' scrape out the bugger'.

" Treat it as you would any other disease. Why in hell would you _want_ something like that? Simply scrape the bugger out,and be done with it. You only get one body, there is no sense in giving it over to a parasite-you'll only lose your looks, your figure, and your sanity. Is that all _he_ thinks you are good for? I still say you would be better without the burden of either."

With that, Amanda threw the letter down in disgust and took up the notes Dinah had scribbled. Some were appointments to hairdressers and robe's-makers. One held neat rows of names. Boys on one side, and girls on the other. Apparently, Dinah had not taken Rebecca's advice. At the top of the boys list, the name ' Elias' was circled.

Amanda frowned at the notes, then at the room. Had Dinah used this room, or had the bureau simply been moved from someplace else? She reached for the drawers, hoping she might discover some more clues, but was startled by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Edward was home already! She gathered the letters together, knowing they would not please him, and stuffed them back into the empty drawer. She closed it just as he appeared in the doorway.

" Patsy said I might find you in here. " he said, as he stepped in and looked about.

" The nursery..." she answered, searching his face for signs of approval or disapproval. He kept a perfectly neutral expression as he examined the curtains, the 'sky', and the carpeting.

" Exceptional." he commented at last. " Winter has done well...subtle, but without the dismal pastels of most nurseries."

Amanda blushed as she thought of the dismal pastels she had suggested. It wasn't that she liked dismal pastels, she had simply thought that was what was supposed to go in nurseries.

" I'm glad that you like it. " she admitted.

" Oh, I am not so hard to please." he said lightly. " The stars are a particularly clever touch. Did Eloise assist? "

" Yes. How did you know?"

" She was always the brightest at astronomy. See? There is Cassiopeia, and my favorite, Andromeda."

" Constellations! I had no clue that was what she was doing! Why, that's wonderful. What others are there?"

" I'm afraid I don't recognise too many. As I said, Eloise had the head for Astronomy." he shook the bassinet, frowning slightly at it's unsteadiness.

" That will have to be altered."

" What was this room used for? If I may ask?" she blurted.

He glanced around again, as if not recalling in which room he stood.

" Oh, this was the room Dinah chose as her own, for her brief stay." he said bitingly.

Amanda did not press further, but as they left the room to go down to dinner, she finally realized why the room had bothered her so much. It had felt and smelled like another woman.

After they had eaten, and Amanda sat at the piano, Edward suddenly brought the subject up again.

"It's much better now, you know." he said, interrupting her piece.

" What is?"

" That _room_. I don't know why, but I've never liked it much."

" I don't like it either. We could move the nursery to the next room. It's further down though." she confessed.

" I think this is the better way. It might...soften it somewhat. I do hate a hard room...don't you?"

She agreed.

" Yes...the only thing worse is boiled eggs." he mused.

Sometimes his philosophies were beyond her immediate comprehension, but she admired him all the more for the uniqueness.

" What did you do with the things that were in there?"

" Sent them to the attic." she answered, half truthfully.

" We'll burn the lot, one day." he said, returning his attention to his book. " Burn the lot and start anew. With new life."

She nodded emphatically in agreement, then began polishing the black keys with her handkerchief. That reminded her that it might have been ages since she dusted the piano legs. Thinking of that reminded her that the chargers stacked over the top of the china cabinet were possibly dusty as well. When Edward looked up again from his book, it was to discover her perched precariously on the brocade seat of a side chair, dedicatedly polishing the glass door of a towering corner curio.

" What are you doing?" he exclaimed.

She turned, surprised.

" There are spots on the glass." she explained.

He looked appalled, an expression which she easily misinterpreted.

" I know...I should really pay more attention to things like this, but it's so high over my head! I think I can have it clean in a moment, if you would be so kind as to hand me a cloth?"

She continued frown at the glass, tilting her head to check for streaks. She knew that Polly had cleaned it last week, but it still looked filthy. If the glass on the curio was in this condition, what did the bathroom mirrors look like? Was the sink properly shined? How had she not realized that the housekeeping had been so neglected?

She felt, rahter than saw, Edward approach her side, and she held out her hand when he tugged lightly on her skirt, expecting him to lay a cloth in her palm. When he did not, she looked up, or rather down, to see what was the matter. He took her hand and gestured for her to step down.

" What? Before I finish this?" she pointed at the crystal clear glass.

With a slightly exasperated look, he seized her about the hips and lifted her down from the chair. For a moment, he did not let her feet touch the floor.

" You can ask Polly, or myself to do that."

" Polly did clean it, but you can see that it needs more rubbing."

" I see nothing of the sort. "

" I do!" she insisted.

" Then you shall ask Polly, or myself to clean it a second time."

" Magical cleaning doesn't remove the germs." she said.

" Then we will clean it in whatever way satisfies you."

" Well, it has to be rubbed until the streaks are gone..."

" Does it have to be tonight?" he asked, raising a brow.

" I...well, no. It doesn't have to. It's just...there is so _much_ to be done, I have to do it when I remember it." she kicked her feet slightly, attempting to gain ground.

He set her down gently, but did not release her.

" If you do not promise me, right now, that you will be more careful, I will not hesitate to bind you in your boudoir. "

She lowered her eyes coyly.

" I promise." she murmured, too easily.

" You promise...what?" he demanded, admiring her pouting lips.

" To be more careful, of course."

" And what does that entail?"

" Not climbing on chairs." she sighed.

" Indeed, not climbing on anything at all. " he said. " Now, it's nearly midnight, I cannot think why that cabinet won't wait until tomorrow to be tormented. If it leaves in the night, it will only spare you the worry."

He then kissed her, to soften his words, before returning the chair to it's proper place and directing her towards the stairs.

* * *

Every little thing she does is magic-The Police

* * *


	22. Chapter 22 Nightmares

_My life goes on in endless song_

_above earth's lamentations,_

_I hear the real, though far-off hymn_

_that hails a new creation._

_Through all the tumult and the strife_

_I hear it's music ringing,_

_It sounds an echo in my soul._

_How can I keep from singing?_

* * *

**--Nightmares--**

There was a dark brown flower, almost a rose, floating in a what might have been space, or might have been a universe filled with black water. Bubbles floated where stars should have been, caressing softly against the petals. Occasionally they would cling to the flower, swaying for awhile before letting go and sailing away. It was very restful to watch. The bubbles created enough motion to gently rock the flower.

More bubbles floated from the endless nowhere below. Then more, and more...suddenly they became faster.Faster and faster. Until soon they came at such a speed that they tore at the petals.

The rose was tossed, and turned, it's edges quickly growing ragged and bruised. Though there was nothing obvious anchoring it in place, it did not float away. or fall. It remained stationary, struggling against the force of the rushing bubbles.

One by one, the petals were ripped away and battered into small squeezed fragments that floated loose into the black void. Calyx, peduncle; all that remained of a beautiful flower.

These began to weep. Then bleed. The water became murky, then dark, then completely black. Suddenly, she was swimming in that blackness, surrounded by the coppery taste of blood, and the rotten smell of putrefying flowers. Desperate for something to hold onto, she groped frantically in the darkness, and eventually her hand closed around the flower stem. Razor sharp thorns tore into her palm, and she let go. No longer floating, she fell. The air grew cold, her hands ached, and she felt a sudden fear. She was going to die!

The light from the window was excruciatingly bright when she wrenched her eyes open, causing tears to form. She blinked them away, trying to focus on the clock face. It was only eight o'clock.

" Just a dream." she said.

Her hair was damp, and when she placed a hand on her chest, she could fee her heart beating frantically. Why had it scared her that badly? It was just falling...people fall all the time in dreams.

She went into the bathroom on shaky legs, and ran a bathtub full of warm water with shaky hands. Polly had thoughtfully charmed all of the shampoo and soap to have no fragrance; lately, the smell of anything floral or fruity made her head spin.

Even in the lukewarm water, with only the clean non-smell of soap, and the pure clean white light around her, Amanda still could not forget the dream. She could still taste the murky, blood tinged water. Even after she cleaned her teeth.

I hope I don't have any more of those! she thought languidly, as her hands automatically went to her lower belly. Always slightly rounded but soft, there was now the unmistakable firmness of new life forming just behind her skin. Two weeks before she had first felt tiny flutters of movement. Since then, there had been many light rippling sensations. None had been strong enough for anyone else to truly feel.

''Good morning, my baby.''

She wanted to name it Olivia, if it were a girl, and of course the masculine form if it were a boy. However, she had received peculiar looks for her suggestion. Olivia Ollivander, they said, or Oliver, might not be a name that a child would thank her for later. Stella suggested she wait until after it was born, saying that sometimes a lady craved certain names when she was expecting, but like strange foods, would lose her appetite for them after the birth.

" I almost named you Selma Francine." she informed her. " Can you _imagine_?"

Amanda could not.

Edward had defended her however, agreeing readily to either name with a wide eyed enthusiasm that made her suspect he was humoring her just a little.

As she dressed in a particularly frilly dress, she sang softly form a Muggle song her father used to sing to her on Church Sundays when she was dressed in crinolines, with flouncy bows on her pastel dresses.

_" East is east and west is west_

_And the wrong one I have chose_

_Let's go where I'll keep on wearin'_

_Those frills and flowers and buttons and bows" _

She gave a little gasp as the baby suddenly prodded at her quite sharply! Pressing her hand near the place, she waited, but there was nothing more. She began singing again.

" _Let's vamoose where gals keep usin'_

_Those silks and satins and linen that shows_

_And I'm all yours in buttons and booooowwwws..._

_Gimme eastern trimmin' where women are women_

_In high silk hose and peek-a-boo clothes_

_And French perfume that rocks the room_

_And I'm all yours in buttons and bows" _

Two tiny movements, much more pronounced than the previous flutters.

" I wish I knew if that means you like me singing, or that you don't !" she laughed.

" Ms. Amanda? All right?" Polly asked at the door.

All right? She was _wonderful._ She told Polly so, and had her feel of the baby kicking, which brought a funny smile to Polly's face.

" Does it hurt?" she asked.

" No...it's just, strange!"

She could hardly wait for her afternoon walk to the village shop. She hurried through all of the little chores she set for herself. Cleaning the extra wands he had brought home the night before, re-organizing the books on the mantle shelf, placing fresh candles in all of the candlesticks. It was also the day for watering all of the house plants, and with the pitcher charmed to be weightless, even this task went by swiftly.

Her last task was to clean Crisp's lair, and to send him with note to Stella. In the three weeks that Crisp had been with them, he had not ceased to be unpleasantly odiferant,and though they had grown relatively accustomed to his sooty flavor, Eloise had been furious the first time he had flown inside and made himself comfortable on her velvet covered divan.

Not even Winter could find a spell or potion to remove the smell, and poor Crisp had even spent one entire night tied to the neck in a sack of bicarbonate of soda, which he had actually seemed to enjoy.

When Amanda went out to clean for him, he was standing on one leg, on the perch, his feathers still helter-skelter. He blinked at her through his spectacles, and attempted something of greeting, which caused him to lose his balance.

While Amanda was using her wand to clean the droppings from the floor, he was frantically flapping his wings, attempting to re-perch himself with as much dignity as possible.

" Now, take this to my mother, and don't stand on Aunt Eloise's furniture this time...she threatened to have you stuffed." Amanda tied the letter to his scrawny leg. He hooted drunkenly as he flew from the small window.

Polly insisted Amanda lay down for her noon rest, and then eat a light lunch, before she could wrap up and set out. She would always remember how beautiful that day was. The sky was sapphire blue, and though the air was cold, the sun was so bright as to warm the soul. She forgot about her nightmare as she picked her way along the rough path, enjoying the feel of the ground beneath her feet, and the wind against her face.

Edward had been watching anxiously for her out of the window, and his face relaxed considerably when she came through the door. He had a customer, so she went into the backroom to warm her hands and nose. After a few minutes, she heard the bell ring, but when she returned to the front, she found two customers instead of one.

It went like that all afternoon, with always one in as another was out. Unusual for November, but apparently there was a new requirement by the Ministry that new Aurors should have their wands inspected, and replaced if necessary. One too many accidents among poorly equipped trainees.

She began to help with registering sales, but moved to the window where she could take advantage of the brilliant sunlight. While she waited, she took out a small baby bonnet she was embroidering, but she found herself spending more time watching the people outside. This was the Wizarding side, and all manner of oddly dressed people gamboled about, some even coasted about on brooms. Peddlers and vendors lined the street, children ran in and out of the candy shop.

A Witch dressed in blue robes was carrying a basket of tiny orange cakes. Amanda watched as a man hailed her and bought two of the delicate pastries, paying the woman with a whole galleon.

The Witch thanked him, and walked on. Seeing Amanda in the window, she leaned forward to show her the basket, asking if she would like a cake. Amanda waved her to the door. The cakes looked delightful.

" How much?" she asked.

" Two sickles." the Witch replied. " Yes?"

Amanda nodded, and rummaged the change out of her dress pocket. She still had trouble with the currency, never knowing whether she was getting a good price on something or not. At the moment, she didn't care, she had to have one of those orange cakes. No...three of them, she decided, as she found six sickles.

The woman thanked her as the coins jangled into her palm, then exited. Outside she sold the rest of her wares to a goup of children coming from a joke shop. Amanda quickly ate one of the cakes, and had to be careful not to make a sound of satisfaction as she savored the sweet orange flavor.

She was just beginning the third when she thought it might be rude not to offer Edward any. But he seemed busy, and she promised herself she would be more kind in the future. At the moment, she could not resist just one more bite. That bite was followed by another and another until the cake was gone as well.

Using her wand to clean her fingers, she took up her again and managed to get most of the tiny white flowers worked before the light grew too dim. The last customer left, and she hastily wrote down the sale as Edward called off the wand's description.

That done, he collected the book, and glanced down the column, not bothering to cheek her figures. He knew they were accurate. Instead he closed the book, and took it to the back, and came back with the bag of galleons from the day's sales.

She had ceased to accompany him to the bank, since the goblins often insisted on having them personally deposit the money in the vault, and she simply could not tolerate that wild ride anymore.

Edward pulled the blind and turned the sign in the door, before helping her to her feet, asking her how she felt. She raised up to kiss his cheek, and told him what she had felt that morning.

He wasn't sure what to do, whether he should touch her or not. She offered to let him feel, and he let her take his hand. When nothing stirred beneath the lavender fabric of her dress, she began humming a jaunty tune that caused the baby to move. He smiled, despite himself.

" It's not so strong as it was earlier." she said. " Perhaps she is tired."

" Perhaps you both are. Why don't you rest back here for a moment." he noted that her eyes looked heavy and led her to the back. She remained standing in the doorway after he released her arm.

" Amanda? Are you all right?" he asked.

" Yes."

" Then come in and sit down..." he gestured to the desk chair, close to the little stove. She sat with a serene, obliging smile, and accepted a glass of water.

" Mmm...I like the ivy." she offered, admiring a series of sketches resting on the desktop.

" Thank you. I was thinking about an entire set."

He insisted that she remain seated while he quickly Apparated to Gringott's and deposited the money. He didn't like carrying that much money home.

While he was gone, Amanda drowsed in the chair, and flipped through a volume entitled " _Where There's A Wand, There's A Way_" . It wasn't quite what she expected though, so she laid it to the side,and rested her head on her arms. She found that anymore, it was nothing to fall asleep at any time..in any place. And the warmth from the fire was not helping much. She shifted uncomfortably for a few moments, aware of a pinching feeling somewhere. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

She must have eventually drifted off, for when Edward called her name, his hand on her shoulder, it startled her.

" I'm sorry." she said, holding her head dizzily. She could taste orange bile at the back of her mouth, and willed herself not to be sick.

" Did you rest this afternoon?" he asked.

" Yes..." she daintily covered a yawn,and winced as a rather sharp jab caught her in the lower belly. That one was rather painful. No doubt form the odd position in which she had just been dozing.

" Well, let's get you home." he said. When she didn't stand, he took her hand. " Come on, stand up."

But as she stood, another pain, this one more intense shot through her. She gripped the desk for a moment.

" Now it is moving." she said lightly. He concern eased somewhat, but she couldn't disguise when another cramp struck across her back.

It was followed by another; this one a slow squeezing pain that reminded her too vividly of monthly discomforts.

" Amanda?' she heard him ask, but she couldn't answer. Her teeth were clenched, and there was a terrific pounding in her ears. When she tried to shake her head, she stumbled against the desk corner.

He caught her before she could fall to the floor, but she was like a dead weight in his arms. He eased her down, alarmed by her pallor, and the twisted expression of pain.

Just as suddenly as it had come, it faded away, and after a moment of deep breathing, she was able to reassure him that she was fine.

" I...I don't know what it was." she admitted, weakly.

Again he helped her to her feet, and she swayed a moment, dizzily, as he went for her wrap.

Just as he placed it about her shoulders though, and pulled her into his arms to Disapparate, she froze, gazing up at him with large terrified eyes. He didn't;t understand at first, why she was wrenching away. Then he saw the reason, and his stomach coiled painfully.

There was blood. Quite a lot of blood. And suddenly Amanda was sagging in his grip, her body suddenly boneless and limp.

* * *

How Can I Keep From Singing?-Lyrics, Enya


	23. Chapter 23 Tragedy

**Come away, O human child!**

**To the waters and the wild**

**With a faery, hand in hand,**

**For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.---Yeats**

* * *

**  
**

--Tragedy--

In the hall of St. Mungo's. Edward paced frantically. He had already been given impatient and stern looks from every healer he tried to question, and earlier, Stella had given him the nearest thing to a look of pure distrust a lady could offer without being vulgar.

_Stella_ was in there now.

They had let _her_ in, but _he_ still had to wait in the hall, not knowing what was happening to his wife and child.

By the time someone remembered to find him, he had reached the limit of his patience. Worry and anger were a poisonous combination, and the young healer blanched at his wild-eyed, disheveled appearance. He had been pacing for the better part of six hours.

" How is my wife?" he demanded before the young man could speak.

The healer pursed his thick lips in annoyance.

" My _name_, " he said, " Is Healer Withersmith."

When this got no reaction save an angry glare, he tightened his lips once more. He was accustomed to having more reverence form his patients and their families.

Seeing that he would get no such awe from this man, he continued, with an almost grim fascination.

" I have to ask you a question or two...how did your wife feel about this pregnancy?"

" Happy. What do you mean, did? Is Amanda-"

" Please. It's very _important_ that you co-operate. Are you certain she herself was.." he waved a hand, " looking forward to being a mother?"

" Yes. I am certain."

" What about _yourself_?"

"No. _I_ was looking forward to being a father." Edward forced through his teeth.

Withersmith winced.

" Yes. Of course." he sighed and rubbed his temple." Look, we ran a few diagnostic spells, and they revealed that your wife had a high level of questionable herbs in her blood. Not to mention _several_ Muggle pharmaceuticals as well."

" Are you suggesting that she intentionally tried to harm herself?"

" Not harm _herself_. Terminate the _pregnancy_. "

" Why do you think she would do something like that?" Edward demanded.

" Well, most young women in her situation..."

" Amanda is not most women." his voice carried loudly down the hall, causing several people to turn their heads.

" Please, this is a hospital!" Healer Withersmith declared. " You must not raise your voice."

" Then answer my questions! If there was anything, ANYTHING in her blood, I am ready to swear that she did not take it intentionally. No, I want to see her."

" Well, someone had to give them to her." the healer said, pointedly.

It was Edward's turn to sigh and rub his forehead.

" I can speak to her maid, Polly. She would know if there were anything out of the ordinary. Please, just tell me--"

" We were unable to save the baby." Withersmith said frankly. " I'm sorry."

Edward dropped his eyes with a stab of guilt.

" She was born alive...but much to premature to survive--even with stabilizing charms.And the drugs..."

Edward continued to stare at the floor. His shoes still had blood on them, and for a long moment, he couldn't stop staring at it. That was Amanda. That was...their daughter. Olivia. He shuddered.

" And Amanda?" he asked.

" She will be all right. " Withersmith held up a hand to stop him from demanding once more to see her." She is going to be very weak, we didn't have a specific antidote for that combination of drugs...so she had to fight it out of her system. She'll probably be very emotional for awhile. "

" Well of course she _would_ be!" Edward exclaimed, as though Withersmith were an utter fool.

The door to the room opened, and another healer stepped out and nodded to Withersmith.

" She's awake." the woman pronounced. " everything is in order."

" You can see her now." Withersmith said, with relief. But when Edward reached for the knob, he stopped him." One more thing, Mr. Ollivander. She hasn't been told yet. Would you like for one of the healers to do that, or would you or her mother-"

" _I_ will." Edward said grimly, with more courage than he felt.

Healer Withersmith stepped aside so that Edward could open the door. Before Edward entered though, he turned back to the other man.

" I don't like you..." he said, with narrowed eyes. " I don't like you at_ all_."

Withersmith shuddered imperceptibly. The threat in the older man's eyes had been all too clear.

* * *


	24. Chapter 24 There Comes Sadness

**authoress4eternity-Thanks for your review. Hope you are enjoying! ;)**

* * *

**Lullaby, and good night,**

**With pink roses bedight,**

**With lilies o'erspread,**

**Is my baby's sweet head.**

**Lay you down now, and rest,**

**May your slumber be blessed!**

**Lay you down now, and rest,**

**May thy slumber be blessed!**

* * *

**--There Comes Sadness--**

The physical discomfort eventually fading and leaving only the emotional disquiet.

She was hospitalized for two weeks. And at first it was easy, as she was only lucid in short periods--the most vivid of which was when they brought the tiny bundle in for her to see.

A beautiful, delicate girl child.

They christened her Mary Olivia Eloise, and she was buried in the Rookwood family cemetery. The Ollivander plot had been too overgrown from years of neglect, and no one of them was in any mood to take up the task of magically disentangling the weeds, and repairing the crumbled stones and fences.

Amanda had not been strong enough to attend to the somber interment. She had barely been able to lift her arms from her side to hold the baby before they took her away- Edward had to place a supportive hand under her trembling arms.

After that, she had been perfectly willing to sleep for awhile, though no amount of sleeping draught could silence the nightmares. After the two weeks had passed, she had been transported home to recuperate in the second bedroom, which had been temporarily converted into what looked esthetically like a bedroom, but functioned like a miniature hospital.

There was a cot in the corner, and at any time, Amanda could look across the room and through her fever would see that there was someone seated,watching. That, more than any reassurances that she received, helped to encourage her to fight down her demons of guilt. After Edward and Stella had told her everything--that the baby was dead and that it was the result of something she had taken-she had been confused and appalled.

She could remember nothing after the walk to the shop. After that, it became a hazy vision, then blackness. She remembered waking only minutes before Edward entered her hospital room.

The fact that she could not remember anything more did little to curb her guilt, and she spent many morbid weeks crying drily into her pillow, wishing she had died as well. A few times, she contemplated the possibility of making that happen. She wondered if she might simply die from lying still and hoping?

She did not die.

The human mind and body is too resilient, and within it, dormant lies the primitive instinct to survive at all costs. She began to notice, against her will, that the corners had grown cobwebs. She resisted the urge to brush them down. She began to worry about what condition the rest of the house might be in, and the shop as well.How was Edward faring? Was he being taken care of?

This led her to wonder what Edward thought of her? How would she feel in his place? She learned from Stella that he and Polly had torn the house apart searching for anything that might have contained the poisonous combination of herbs and drugs.

They destroyed every crumb of food, threw away every cube of ice, every bottle of shampoo,bath oil and cologne. They examined the tap water, tested the toothpaste, and poured out the lamp oil in case it was contaminated.

The fact still remained that they found nothing. Not a trace of anything other than the ordinary potions ingredients that she had been trained by Eloise to use. And she would never have intentionally taken any of them!

Even so, Edward and Polly disposed of them as well, sending hours of hard work to oblivion.But it didn't upset her. What did upset her was not knowing the truth.

What had happened? She tried and tried to find those lost fragments of her memory; she tried until her head ached, and and her temperature soared, but still she could discover nothing.

Oh, what _must_ Edward think of her now?

She couldn't be certain. Everyday there were flowers and small gifts from him in her room, but his manner was vague. After the first week, he convinced Stella and Winter that they needn't stay overnight anymore, he and Polly were more than capable of caring for Amanda.

Then, in the evenings, he would read to her, and though they never spoke of what had happened, it was somehow not necessary. The only difference she noted was that he was slightly more polite, more gentle, and less inclined to talk seriously with her.

If he was angry, she decided, then the best way she could make it up to him would be to try to be more careful in the future, and to be as little trouble as possible now. And above all, to find some way of proving to him that she had not purposefully harmed herself of her child.

Bit by bit, she convalesced, and after what seemed like an eternity, she was allowed to go downstairs. Under strict instructions not to do anything more exhausting than breathe, she found downstairs to be even less interesting than upstairs, except for one thing--the pianoforte. Polly transfigured the piano stool into a more comfortable and supportive chair, with low unobtrusive arms.

At first she did not play, because she enjoyed playing, and she thought that she did not deserve to enjoy anything. Somehow that would be breaking the sacred act of mourning. With urging however from Edward, Stella, and Polly, she was at last convinced to try. Un-enthusiastically, she dug out her tatty portfolio of sheet music.

Flipping violently through the yellowed sheets, she went straight for Chopin's Étude Op. 10 No. 3 in E major.

It was a form of self flagellation, and she poured her heart and anguish into the performance. Finished, she managed to play it again, and make it sound even sadder.

" What _are_ you playing?" Polly had asked.

" Tristesse..." she replied vaguely.

" Ah...well, it is very sad."

" I know."

It made her ache, but she bruised herself with the lyrics repeatedly, letting her fingers work up speed over the keys, day after day, until at last Stella had stormed in from the kitchen one afternoon, where she was helping to make lunch.

" Amanda, I think that is _quite_ enough of that." she had said. Before Amanda could stop her, Stella ripped the sheet music from the stand and with a strange wave of her hand, banished it from the room. Amanda agreed. She had wanted to stop, but it was as if she couldn't once she started. Her hands worked against her will, her voice cracked over the notes. Every time she sat down, she played the same piece.

The spell was broken, and Amanda simply sat at the keys, feeling for the first time, the inability to feel sorry for herself, and waited for the desire to play to take over.

" Do you know something that isn't so sad?"

" Nope."

" Well, how about something with words?"

" All right."

The next time her fingers touched the keys, a new, low feeling of grief took over. This one was less horrific, and more soulful. It was the grief she would carry for always.

" _**I'm a poor wayfaring stranger**_

_**While traveling thru this world of woe**_

_**Yet there's no sickness, toil, or danger**_

_**In that bright world to which I go...**_

_**I'm going there to see my Father**_

_**I'm going there no more to roam,**_

_**I'm only going over Jordan**_

_**I'm only going over home--"**_

The song was no less sad, but it was strangely comforting. Well, it was to Amanda. Stella paid less attention to it, it being a familiar song from her days in America, where it was often performed at local festivals as a crowd pleaser.

Polly however, had been aghast.

" Cor! But that makes my skin crawl!" she had muttered after a few minutes. She gave a dramatic shudder before escaping upstairs to freshen the bedrooms.

" I know worse songs." Amanda called, smiling weakly.

" I see you've been practicing." Stella noted. " It sounds perfect. I'll have to find you some more sheet music. Anything in particular?"

" I don't have any Chopin.Someone stole it from me." Amanda said. " When can I start moving around again?"

" When you get your color back. "

" _**I know dark clouds will hang 'round me,**_

_**I know my way is rough and steep**_

_**Yet beauteous fields lie just before me**_

_**Where God's redeemed their vigils keep**_

_**I'm going there to see my mother**_

_**She said she'd meet me when I come**_

_**I'm only going over Jordan,**_

_**I'm only going over home.--"  
**_

" Anyone else _besides_ Chopin? Mozart, perhaps?" Stella asked, trying to hold her attention.

" Billy Joel might be nice."

" Just the music, or the entire person?"

Amanda stuck out her tongue, with a playfulness she did not feel.

She asked Edward that evening to allow her to visit the grave--but he refused until she could stand without growing dizzy. Stella, Elosie, Winter, and Polly all agreed with him in the most adamant of fashions.

This left her with a tiny gaping wound that would not close. Her body was empty, her arms were empty, the bassinet upstairs was empty--but until she could see the place where her daughter rested, she knew that she could never truly believe what had happened.

The next day, she sent Polly out for a time, and went upstairs to the nursery. She had not stepped foot inside since the day they had decorated it. It was exactly the same, of course. The stars on the curtains still danced, the stars overhead still shot. The eyes of several plush toys, reflected the light from her lamp. On the dresser, she could see the form of the death album, a dark custom of the Pureblood Wizarding families. She had not looked inside, and did not intend to now. She knew it contained photographs. She knew it held the tiniest lock of hair, and Olivia's name and cause of death written in a beautifully scrolling hand.

Keeping her eyes riveted on the albums glossy black cover, she backed from the room, and closed the door, taking from her pocket a long, ornate skeleton key, she slipped it into the protesting lock, and with a good hard turn, locked the room.

Satisfied, she walked back down the hall, never having noticed that one thing, just one tiny thing about the room was different.

* * *

Brahams Lullaby-Johannes Brahams

Tristesse-Chopin

Wayfaring Stranger-Traditional


	25. Chapter 25 A Christmas Tree

_Hold back the rushing minutes make the wind lie still_

_Don't let the moonlight shine across the lonely hill _

_Dry all the raindrops hold back the sun _

_My world has ended my baby's gone--_

* * *

--The Christmas Tree--

Christmas week appeared without warning, taking them all slightly by surprise. The Wizarding world loved Christmas, and everywhere a person looked there were trees and candles, and people carrying brightly wrapped gifts.

Eloise in particular seemed to adore the holiday, and like most people with no children of their own, she was generous to a fault when it came to gift giving. The year before, she had lavished several gifts on Amanda, such as gilt picture frames, silver handled hairbrushes, and leather bound books; and for Stella, gifts such as a chair of whipped wicker, a hundred candles of different fragrances, and copper bracelets.

This year she promised everyone she would do even better.

Amanda was not yet allowed to go out, due having developed a series of intermittent fevers that refused to be completely broken. Desperate, she had called on Aunt Eloise to help her with what _she_ considered a dilemma, but_ Eloise_ considered an opportunity to display her knowledge of '' everything, everyone, and how much it all costs".

Amanda needed help choosing a gift for Edward, and having no experience whatsoever in that department, she turned to the one person who had more than enough. Eloise had the problem solved almost before it was spoken, and with a snap of her fingers, she was away, only to return a few hours later, smug and satisfied. A very exhausted Demogene was in tow, and they both were both burdened with armloads of packages, which they deposited in the middle of Amanda's parlor.

Winter, who had been shopping as well and had happened to meet Amele in Flourish and Blotts, soon arrived. Amele was close behind, her cheeks attractively pinkened by the sharp December air.

Choosing one package in particular from the stack, Eloise tore off the paper to display a tiny palm-sized Christmas tree.

" You simply _must_ have a tree." she said. " Where would you like it? No, don't get up."

Amanda looked skeptically at the diminutive decoration, and indicated the buffet in the corner.

" Stella and Demogene, please move that out of the way. Don't use your _wand_ for that! It's an _antique_! " Eloise barked as Stella and Demogene began trying to move the heavy furniture.

" Couldn't have been _any_ other corner?" Demogene huffed.

Eloise ignored her, and set the tree on the bared floor. After carefully calculating the height of the ceiling versus the angle of the corner, she enlarged the tree to the perfect size.

" Oh! It is beautiful..." Amanda exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "I had forgotten completely about a tree."

" Where _do_ you keep your head? " Eloise teased gently." What is Christmas without a _tree_? I bought it from Ingemar Odle...you remember him Winter? He is a genius when it comes to horticulture. He actually grows the trees in miniature. He wanted to sell me one of the 'add-water-to-grow' trees. On these hardwood floors? Wouldn't that be _insane?"_

Demogene nudged her with another box.

" What? Oh, yes, thank you, I almost forgot. Since it is _indecent_ to have a naked tree in the house, I picked out some wonderful decorations. Of course, you'll collect special ones yourself over the years, but for now, I think these will do nicely." she opened the package and began removing glass ornaments. Some looked no different than ordinary Muggle baubles, but others sang, changed colors, and flashed with multi-colored lights.

Slowly, Amanda rose from the fainting couch, where she had been resting, to hang the first ornament. It was a star, crafted of delicate iridescent blown glass. Inside of the star, another smaller blue star was suspended by thin threads of spidery glass web.

" There. _That _is my favorite." she said.

Soon, with much wand waving, and a few moments of silliness, mostly between Winter and Stella, the tree was covered in glass decorations, tinsel, candles, candy, nuts, lacquered apples, and strange things like toy noisemakers, bluebirds, cloth butterflies with moving wings and crowns. After the prettiest ornaments were up, they began a contest to see who could turn the homelier ones into the most outrageous trinket. Amanda found herself egging the others on from her seat;

" Holly leaves!"

" Paint holly leaves on it."

" Fake rubies!"

" Over the eyes. _Pink_ Snowflakes. No...larger!"

At last, the tree could tolerate no more. It was bulging with wonders, and seemed to groan with the weight of it's finery.

The final touch however, and Stella was reluctant to add it for fear of stressing Amanda's nerves; was a very delicate ornament. A child angel, wrought in the purest crystal, kneeling. Though it looked at first as though it should be praying, it was in fact, playing. Its fine crystal hands were playing on a proportionately small toy piano of lacquered black wood. On the ivory sheet music, incredibly miniature letters were hand-painted to spell out;

_--In memory of Olivia--_

Amanda silently accepted this token, and thanked her mother with a look that spoke more eloquently than any words.

Carefully, she hung the ornament on the most prominent branch of the tree. She could not know then that it would always be hung in just that exact spot for every following Christmas, a tradition that they would come to think of as indispensable for the holiday.

Only after this was ritual was observed did Eloise begin stuffing gifts under the tree. She had found for Amanda to give to Edward, a magnificent chess board that played Wizarding Chess on one side, but when turned over, played a normal game of Muggle Chess as well. The board itself consisted of large squares of polished ebony wood, alternated with pristine squares of the purest white marble. The board was three inches deep, yet was no heavier than a sheet of high quality paper.

Most importantly, at the corners it had carved medallions of some abstract and nouveau design that could not be called flowers, or animals or even definable shapes. At either end there were drawers, lined with black velvet, in which to store the pieces. The pulls were of highly polished brass, pressed in the center with an " O" monogram. Amanda ran her fingers each detail,nodding with approval.

" Very lovely. " she allowed. " It feels lucky, too. Perhaps even _I_ shall win a match! "

They rewrapped it hastily, and placed it among the other packages.

When Edward returned home that night, it was to a house transformed. He frowned at the tree, the gifts, the greenery, and the bevy of women seated in the parlor. At all times he was suspicious of change, and had grown into a habit of disliking change at the first; though he might enjoy it at a later time. Christmas had never held any particular fascination for him. He found it was slightly embarrassing to give and receive gifts, especially when people had the tendency to over-dramatize the sentimentality of the moment.

He managed to pull back into the library before any but Amanda noticed him, and when their eyes met, she saw his displeasure and felt slightly disheartened . Excusing herself for a moment, she left Stella, Eloise, and Amele in a debate over the Headmaster of Hogwarts School; and slipped into the library.

She wasn't sure what to say, and simply stood inside the door, waiting. He regarded her closely. She was still quite pale, but the hollow, defeated look had begun to fade, remaining only in the down-turned corners of her soft mouth, and the slope of her shoulders.

Softening somewhat, he gestured towards the parlor with a faint nod.

" It's a very large tree."

" Yes,but it can be made smaller...if you like?"

" No. I do not mind the tree. However, I have no desire to speak to anyone this evening."

It came out a little harsher than he had intended, but Amanda only lowered her head in acquiescence, and turned to leave. He caught her elbow.

" I wasn't referring to you. " he said more congenially. " I meant that I was in no mood for Eloise or...anyone." he sighed.

" Is something the matter?" she asked, frowning at his tone. Though it was not unusual for him to be impatient of glum at times, it was not normal for him to be so blatantly _morose._

" I had two unpleasant visits today. One from your cousin Agnes, and that..._Umbridge_ she married. The second was from a Ministry official." He reached up to smooth the line of consternation from between her eyes.

Her first thought was that her illegal use of magic had been discovered, and she was going to be hauled to Azkaban as took out a small envelope, still sealed with the Ministry's emblem in green sealing wax, and placed it in her hand.

She regarded it unhappily, for a moment, asking at length if he knew what it might be. She didn't want to have to read it for herself.

" A reminder of that damned law." he sneered, then apologized for his language. " It's indiscreet timing, is all...here don't read it."

He took it back and threw it into the fireplace.

" Incendio!"

Amanda was actually relieved that it was only that, thinking, as she watched the wax melt and the envelope curl in the flames, that it could have much worse.

" That's nothing to be so upset about. I thought it might be something more horrible. What was Agnes' visit about?"

He grimaced.

" Something _much_ more horrible. Don't let's discuss it now, I can't think civilly. " he changed the subject instead." You look better."

" I feel better. The tree, the music, the laughter. It's taken my mind away from...things." she gave a tiny shrug.

In the hallway, the clock struck the half hour, and they could hear Amele as she exclaimed over the time, sayaing she had only meant to stop by on her way home, Jean-Paul would be worried intoapoplexy. There followed the sounds of people stretching,and rustling and making polite noise to let their hostess know they were restless.

" It sounds as though they are ready to leave. I'll go ensure it."

But he retained his grip on her arm.

" I can't let you do that...it would be very unlucky."

" What would?" she asked, confused.

He lifted his eyes upward, and she followed his gaze to a small bundle of mistletoe, tied with a red velvet ribbon. Winter must have placed it there earlier when she was hanging the holly wreaths. Amanda blushed and looked up at him from beneath her lowered lashes.

" They are all still out there..."she said warningly, not attempting to step out of reach.

" But...not in _here._" he answered, moving suddenly, but gently to wrap an arm about her waist. She allowed herself to be caught, and only protested enough to be sporting. After a long moment, in which he kissed not only her mouth, but her cheeks and forehead, and the tip of her nose, he simply held her loosely, while she played with the bow of his cravat.

" I do believe this house needed a little Christmas cheer." he stated.

" Only the house?" she teased.

He conceded that perhaps his mood had needed lightening as well, as he released her. She knew her own mood had.

" Oh, are you sure you're finished? Or should we send for more mistletoe?" a voice drawled from the corner.

" Grandmother! " Amanda exclaimed, startled to find herself face to face with Winter. " How did you get in here?"

Winter was seated in the corner chair, her lap filled with bunches of greenery she had been arranging into attractive bundles.

_" I_ was in here first."

" You _might_ have spoken." Edward growled.

" I tried to get your attention _twice_. " she stood, ignoring their guilty expressions. " I'll just leave the rest of this here for you Amanda, you can do with it...whatever you please."

Amanda, inexplicably in higher spirits, began to mock-chase her grandmother from the library, at a pace no faster than a mild walk.

As soon as she stepped into Stella's view, her mother began bombarding her with maternal criticism.

" Mary Amanda! You shouldn't be running! You shouldn't even be _standing_ this long! What have you been doing?" Stella forced her to the lounge. "You look feverish again."

" She does look slightly flushed, doesn't she? " Winter exclaimed, from behind Stella. When Amanda shot her a warning look, she only feigned a look of extreme concern. " Maybe we should give her something cold to drink."

" I'm fine." Amanda assured them.

" Too much excitement." Eloise claimed, making Winter smile.

" Yes, that's probably it." she agreed. " You should be more careful Amanda."

Amanda gave her a cheeky smile.

" Well, Amanda, Winter and I must be going. You'll listen to Polly, won;t you , and rest? And happy Christmas for tomorrow." Eloise kissed her cheek, and Winter embraced her softly.

Amele too said her goodbye, and left with her armload of gifts, leaving behind her good wishes and the fragrance of sandalwood.

Stella remained just long enough to be certain that Amanda wasn't ill again.

Truthfully, the day _had_ been a little too strenuous,and Amanda was beginning to feel weak and achy again. She was envisioning a light dinner, and a warm restful evening on the library sofa, listening to Edward's account of his meeting with Agnes and Umbridge.

Perhaps even a glass of something stronger than tea.

Three hours later, that was exactly what she was doing. She was stretched out on the leather library sofa, propped up on several very soft pillows, with a thick blanket over her knees. She had been mending a tattered cuff on one of his shirts, but had laid it aside to listen to him rant angrily about Adelfried Umbridge's sermon on how to subdue Muggles.

He paced the floor as he spoke, shaking his finger, sometimes even waving his arms. Every time he passed her, he filled her glass again. She had no idea what with. It had started out tasting like bitter acid, then slowly evolved into tasting like _smooth_ acid. It made her warm though, and she felt her self dozing occasionally, when she wasn't trying to focus her eyes.

" ...approval and eventually a _patent_ for potions and pills _designed _to keep them under the strictest control, he said!" rummaging in his pocket, he pulled out a tiny glass tube with three pills in the bottom. " He gave me some _samples_! They have not yet proven them to be perfectly safe, but he said it didn't _matter!_ In large doses they can create convulsions, comas, memory loss...all _sorts _of pretty symptoms. Yes...he had the audacity to make it sound as though convulsions were a _benefit_." he slammed the tube down hard to punctuate the word ' benefit.' Amanda winced.

The vial however, was charmed not to break.

" Well? " he demanded when she said nothing. After two hours of listening to his rant, the least she could do was join him in being scandalized.

" Well what?" she asked, sleepily.

" Isn't that appalling?"

" Yes."

" It's a _disgrace_."

"It is a disgrace..." she agreed. " And isn't it strange that no matter where a person goes, there are always fanatics. Why does it have to be that way, I wonder?" she mused, trying to stifle a yawn.

He stood, leaned against the mantle and watched her as she dozed completely off to sleep. He thought about waking her, and moving her to her bed, but decided the couch was just as comfortable. Covering her completely with the blanket, he watched her for a long time with a peculiar expression, before turning to charm the fire to a perpetual low blaze.

As he passed the table on his way to the door, he seized up the vial containing Adelfried's pills. Glancing once more at his lovely Muggle wife, he tossed the vial into the fire.

* * *

_My baby's gone-Traditional_


	26. Chapter 26 Blue Christmas

**_Author's Note-Here we get to see just a bit more of Edward's personality._**

****

**_  
_**

_I'll have a blue Christmas without you_

_I'll be so blue just thinkin' about you_

_Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree_

_Won't be the same dear if you're not here with me_

_And when the blue snowflakes start fallin'_

_That's when the blue memories start callin'_

_You'll be doin' alright with your Christmas of white_

_And I'll have a blue, blue Christmas---_

* * *

_--Blue Christmas--  
_

For Christmas, Amanda had received two main gifts from Edward. The second being a journal, bound in lavender-dyed, kid leather, and filled with cream colored vellum. It had a satin ribbon to mark the page, and the stationer had tooled her name into the spine in elaborately scrolled old English script. It was delicious.

The first 'gift' was the her very first experience with a true hangover. She realized groggily that she must have only been_ tipsy _at her wedding. This was completely different, waking to a throbbing headache, the uncomfortable roiling stomach. She had never realized before how strongly leather furniture could smell. It was nauseating beyond belief, and she shot Edward an accusatory glance when he tried to help her to her feet.

" Did I fall asleep here last night?" she asked, confused.

" Yes. After four glasses of bourbon."

" Oh god, is that what I drank?" she shuddered.

He thoughtfully brought her something to ease the headache, before they commenced with opening their gifts. He didn't want to admit it, but he had indulged slightly as well, and felt very un-natural. Amanda noted that it was nearly noon when she staggered out of the bath, her hair still damp because she had no way, magical, or Muggle to dry it completely. She tucked it back with a tortoiseshell band.

The tree was not quite so festive by morning, and the candies and fruits certainly didn't seem so appetizing, but they actually did enjoy unwrapping the gifts. Edward liked the chess set very much, and began set it up immediately on the floor. It was amusing...as the new pieces were a little panicked at their new surroundings and began running about the parlor seeking placed to hide.

Eventually they could be coaxed out and onto the board, but they stood trembling and fidgeting, arguing amongst themselves.

Among the other gifts, including a mother of pearl pen, earrings, new umbrellas ( Eloise had noticed Edward's old one was beginning to leak), cufflinks, and items of luxury for the house, Amanda uncovered a small, soft object, wrapped in brown paper, with bits of holiday paper stuck onto it with heavy amounts of glue.

Perplexed she showed it to Edward, who turned it this way and that, but could find no markings.

" I don't think it's dangerous, but the wrapping is horrible."

Amanda opened it carefully, the glue was still tacky. A pink plush bear, a child's toy rolled into her lap and grinned up at her with an embroidered smile. A note had been pinned to the bear's ruffly little dress, and she had to pull the material straight to to read the letters.

" This was for your little girl." it read.

Amanda swept it across the room with a horrified look.

" What is it?" he asked, looking up from his close examination of the Muggle chess pieces.

" It's..." she shook head in disgust. " It's a toy. Just a toy."

He summoned it, and she watched it morbidly as it flew into his outstretched hand. It wore lace petticoats, she saw, and had bows on it's ears.

" This was for your little girl. May it bring you luck next time." another line was written below that , but the glue had smudged it beyond reading, except for a few letters. T-L...F. He could make nothing of the writing and grimaced at the garish pink thing, before thrusting it quickly behind the nearest cushion.

" You just forget about that! Here...this is from Amele." he said, discovering, mercifully, one more package to divert her attention.

She didn't forget the bear, but she didn't mention it again either. Edward however, seemed very agitated about it, and throughout the rest of the day, was very quiet. The had been invited to Rookwood house for a late Christmas dinner, and since Polly had a full week off for the holiday, they accepted. Throughout the dinner, Edward remained withdrawn. And after they returned home that night, he settled her in the library, with a fire and a copy of A Christmas Carol, but he closed himself into his study.

She rummaged behind the cushion as soon as he was gone, but discovered the toy had already been hidden somewhere else. He must have used magic to vanish it before she could notice. It was just as well, she decided. She didn't need to see it and get all upset again. She just wondered who in the world would have given her such a thing? It was obvious that the the toy had been purchased after the accident..no one, not even herself had known the baby was a girl until afterwards.

A cheap, deliberately cruel trick, she supposed, but that only served to make her feel worse, and she had to

blink back tears that suddenly pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision, and tried to read the book in front of her. It was no use, the entire mood of the day had been spoiled, and she suddenly wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep and forget everything.

Remembering suddenly her new journal she retrieved it form the bookcase and cracked the spine, making her first entry. She had, up till that night, been keeping erratic notes on loose-leaf paper, and organizing them by merely stacking them in a drawer. The entries were mostly composed of single sentences, dates, times, and brief descriptions.

" I thought if you were to write, and having such beautiful penmanship, you should have a suitable volume to collect it all." he had told her when she fist opened the box. His unspoken feelings were that he was sure she had much on her mind that needed releasing.

The journal was not one of those miniature things, with only a few sheets of paper widely ruled. It was as large as an average size book, and as thick as the width of her palm. The rule was very fine. There is nothing so satisfying in the world as a book of blank pages, just waiting for the first seduction of the pen. On the other hand, there was nothing so daunting as the fear of destroying one of those creamy sheets with just one ink blot, one lazily scrawled 'r', one wrong word or thought. She caressed the paper for quite sometime in admiration, before opening the cap to her pen.

What to start with? She didn't want to begin with despair and sadness. It would ruing the entire tone. What if the rest of the book were filled with happiness and miracles? Another person might read it one day and never want to progress past the relentless melancholy at the beginning. No, it had to begin with something more...human.

"_**December 25, 1990**_

_**Kiss. **_

_**I had no real reason for writing that word, but I wanted the first word of my beautiful journal to be a pleasant word, and whereas there are many pleasant words in the English language, I think none can say so much by saying so little. Kiss can be as delicate as Klimt, or as passionate as Lawrence. It is a bittersweet word too, and I think that is appropriate. Journal's are bittersweet, as well, because a life can never be all sweet. Nor can it, I believe, be all bitter, though some people find it easier to find tragedy in their lives when their are none, than to embrace blessings when times are sad.**_

The new year came and went, and at last Healer Thoroughgood deemed her strong enough to resume her normal lifestyle. In February, she won a match of chess, but not against Edward. Edward's friend Colonel Barkwater had invited himself over for the better part of a day, and had having lost three matches to Edward he challenged Amanda instead.

" It won't do you any good." Edward informed him. " She plays very well."

She suspected that the Colonel had either allowed her to win out of amiability, or had, during his discourse on war, lost his concentration.

He informed her that he had served in India during the time of the Raj, from 1877 until 1901, when it became obvious to the Muggles around him that he was not aging quite as fast as they.

Amanda had listened skeptically to Barkwater's account, turning to Edward for verification. He only shrugged, and only gave a slight nod. Later he confessed that Giles Barkwater had been telling the same story for years, but the names of the regiments had changed from time to time.

" Of course, I had to initiate my own wound. It takes guts I tell you, to hex your own leg off. But I did it. Oh, I was more than ready to retire, you know...the excitement is good for the young, but after you get to a certain age you start thinking of marrying and settling down, eh?" He elbowed Edward.

" Are you married then?" Amanda asked, easily capturing his bishop.

" No, no...I just haven't found the right person, I'm afraid. But there is always time, I've only been looking for seventy seven years. "

" You mean, eighty seven years." Edward corrected.

" Well, _technically_. But for the first ten years, I wasn't really serious!"

Amanda took his knight. He was left with only two pawns and his king, yet he insisted on considering his next move for several minutes, and from all angles. He even lay his large head on the table and looked at the chess board from an upside down position. The pieces on the board made faces, and stepped from foot to foot in boredom.

At last he ,moved one of the pawns forward, and she took mercy and checkmated him.

" Huh! She beat me."

" I told you she would."

" I think you cheated a bit there at the end." Barkwater began counting the moves back. " It must have been when you moved your queen side castle to the--no, it was the _bishop _that you moved _here_."

" Give it up, Giles." Edward said, folding the newspaper." You lost for the fourth time in a row. And you call yourself a strategist."

Colonel Barkwater might have been slightly rusty on his game of chess, but in every other aspect, he was still sharp eyed, and authoritative. It did not take a person of extreme perceptiveness to notice that he was appearing more and more frequently, and that he and Edward held long serious conversations in low voices when they thought she was preoccupied.

She was no eavesdropper by nature, and always tried to slip away if she thought their discussion might be of a more private nature. She could not however, help but catch a few names; Albus Dumbledore, Adelfried Umbridge, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and most importantly, Cornelius Fudge, who was predicted to be the next Minister of Magic.

They seemed to think that he would only make current matters worse; he was on the side of the Purebloods, easily aroused by large sums of money, and quite possibly one of the many people behind the writing of the marriage law. She heard whispers too, of the fate of the many other women and men who had married due to the law. That was a subject that she could not help but listen too, despite her conscience.

She heard she was not the only woman to suffer, nor lose a child due to mysterious circumstances. Many of the women, they discovered really had done intentionally to themselves what she had been accused of falsely, a wickedness if which she herself could not conceive.

In January, just before Giles had begun to make his weekly visits, she had begun begging Edward to take her to the grave of the baby. He had been most reticent to do this, but she had persisted. Healer Thoroughgood had at last convinced him, saying that it was the final step in the healing process.

Edward could only hope that Thoroughgood knew what was best, for to him, it did not look to be very healing. The visit was awkward and emotional, and having to watch her kneel on the damp, cold ground, sobbing into her handkerchief was painful to behold. He himself was not sure what to feel. He was confused.

On one hand, he felt sorry that Amanda was sad, but he was not certain that he felt sad in the same way. He regretted daily the fact that the child had died, and wished above anything that he could have saved her. But then, still, there persisted in his heart a heavy doubt. Why had the baby died? Who had been responsible? Was it this woman kneeling, sobbing? Some stranger? A person they knew? A true accident? he could not be certain, and that uncertainty ate at him, no matter how he tried to reason with himself that Amanda simply was not that sort of person.

That day, while she was embracing her grief fully for the first time, he was fighting down the temptation to do an unspeakable thing. Absorbed and preoccupied, she was mentally naked, and it would have been all too easy to invade her mind. The last time he had used Legilimency on another person, was the night Eloise had come to him with her broken wand, and quite unexpectedly he had discovered her greatest secret along with the truth about the wand. He had vowed then to never use that particular magic without permission, or without justification.

Was this justified? He warred with himself, until Amanda's spasms had ended, and she rose unsteadily to her feet. She was cold, her teeth chattered loudly, and her face was red, even though she had shed only a tear or two. he felt that to be the oddest thing, that she could no longer cry. She hadn't truly cried since her father's funeral, only these harsh, dry sobs that seemed more hysterical than mournful, mixed as they were with aching gulps of air that were almost laughter. She hated them, was ashamed of them, and ducked her head so that he couldn't see her dry cheek.

Edward was preoccupied. He had taken a small package from his pocket. The child's grave had only a temporary grave marker; a small slab hastily transfigured from a stone. Eloise had placed an order for a more decent monument, and it had only just arrived, a day or two before their visit.

That is what Edward took from his pocket, and carefully positioned at the head if the grave, displacing the first stone. Carefully returning it to it's original size,he was pleased with the workmanship that had gone into it. The wizard mason responsible for it had taken a great deal of time to engrave an elaborate wreath of roses, lilies ivy, and baby's breath, across the top, and to carve raised letters into the perfectly veined blue marble.

They stood for a moment admiring the stone with morbid respect, then without speaking, turned in unison to leave. It was all that Amanda had needed. She felt a great weight lift from her, even though she felt an even heavier degree of grief settle into her. Death was permanent, but life was fleeting...and she still had life before her. Walking away, she resolved to live it as best she could.

* * *

Blue Christmas-Lyrics, Billy Hayes and Jay W. Johnson.


	27. Chapter 27 April

_**You think you're gonna take her away**_

_**With your money and your cocaine**_

_**Keep thinkin' that mind is gonna change**_

_**But I know everything is okay**_

_**She's gonna listen to her heart**_

_**It's gonna tell her what to do**_

_**She might need a lot of loving**_

_**But she don't need you**_

* * *

--April--

_April. _

Already April! Why, she had been married almost an entire year. It had been a year since her engagement. She wanted to be happy at that thought. Sentimental even. But whenever she thought of June, her stomach tensed painfully.

Every week, since the beginning of the year, she had been receiving notes from the Ministry informing her that she had thus far failed to fulfill her obligations. As if she herself didn't know this. She had been hiding them away since the first, which Edward had read. It had enfuriated him so that he threatened to confront the Minister about harrassment. He mentioned a choice hex or two.

Fortunately, Amanda had soothed him somewhat, and since that day, he had not mentioned the note, the Ministry, or their future.

Now, as the cool April wind blew shoppers and pedestrians up Diagon Alley, Amanda sat behind the counter in the snug little shop, an open book lying in front of her. It was very dull, she had to turn it over soemtimes to recall it's title.

Somewhere behind her, she could hear rummaging.

" I didn't put you _there_. What _is_ this?" she heard him muttering. " Oak? This is where the _elm_ is supposed to be!"

She smiled to herself, and tried to read another paragraph. When it proved to be impossible, she slipped out a Quibbler magazine. Stella and Eloise claimed the Quibbler was trash, but they devoured every edition, and passed them on gleefully to Amanda, with certain articles marked for her perusal. Sometimes the articles were enjoybale, trash or not, but at other times she had to pick through the fiction to discover any useful fact.

Questions such as, " Are there really miniature sand yeti's?"most usually earned her a look of marked exasperation from whomever she had asked.

Well, was it _her_ fault if she was raised in a world where they knew nothing of sand yeti?

She flipped through this month's edition, which featured an article on the Hairy Winged Half-fly of Brazil; a study on the power of rubies, and the conspiracy behind doorlocks.

" ...No!No!No! Everything has to be changed." he muttered behind her. A great crashing followed.

She winced.

Outside, an anemic yet consistant stream of people passed in fornt of the shop window. Some slowed, and sometimes stopped, to peer through the glass. One of these was a young girl, perhaps nineteen, with hunched shoulders, and a lazy, scuffling step. She paused to look in the widnow, pressing her splotchy skin right up agaisnt the glass. For a moment, the girl looked in at Amanda, and Amanda, fascinated, regarded the girl.

She wore an open set of Wizarding robes, of a bold purple. Underneath them, were a tattered pair of jeans, and a stomach baring, black top with a ripped hem. A set of very large, plastic earrings peeked out of greasy, not-quite blonde hair.

For a moment, it was as though a mirror between worlds had been unveiled, and Amanda had to struggle to remember that she herself had not too long ago left that world where girls wore tattered jeans to school, and pink bikini's to lie in the sun beside chlorinated blue swimming pools.

That world was nothing more than a dream.

She tried to imagine what the girl must be seeing. A dusty, shabby shop. Dimly lit, with shelves of severely stacked boxes. A woman not much older than herself, dressed in a dusky mauve dress, her hair caught up sloppily in what Polly termed ' a grandmother's knot'. Through the dusty glass of the window, she must surely look like a faded photograph.

With a sullen frown, the girl pulled slowly away and began shuffling down the street once more.

Amanda shrugged to herself, and thought about the years in which she had constanlty been told to stand up straight, and to not lean on things, and never touch her face with her hands.

" Leaning on tables makes a girl have ugly elbows." her grandmother had warned. " And besides, when a person constantly slouches or leans aginst other objects, it makes them seem too lazy to stand."

As a younger girl, Amanda had promised hrself that she would one day lean whenver she wished. However, now that she _was_ grwon, she found it to be just as unattractive as her grandmother garrett had always claimed it to be. Praise to all of those women who had straight backs and light easy steps, and parise to the mothers and grandmothers that spent hours making them walk up and down staircases balancing the etiquette book on their heads.

She suddenly felt very sorry for the girl outside the window.

" Amanda."

Edward touched her shoulder gently, startling her.

" I have an errand to run. Can you tend shop for a few moments?" his hair was in fratic dissarray, and there was dust on his coatsleeve.

" Of course."

" Good girl. If there are any customers, tell them I'll be no longer than five minutes. I'll go out the back."

Going out the back meant that he was going to Knockturn Alley, and that was one place she was never invited to go. Not that she would _want_ to..she had read a few articles about what went on down there, and true or not, she had no desire to discover it for herself.

She watched him disappear through into the back, before re-opening the Quibbler to read about the rubies. She had never even seen a real ruby, yet the author of the article, Ermine Gloriola, seemed to think that people had pocketfuls of them lying about. The article recommended sleeping in a tub filled with small rubies to gain or the heighten the powers of prophecy.

" Oh, that makes it simple. " Amanda said to herself with a wry smile.

She read on until the light faded, them stood and stretched. Time to begin closing down. In the back room, she extinguished the small fire that had been built to keep the damp chill from the air. Then she collected her cloak and purse, the accounts for the evening, and the ring of skeleton keys that locked up the house, but were too heavy to carry at all times without the assistances of a chatelaine., a device she was not yet eccentric enought to don.

As she was closing the door, the bell sounded, signalling her that a customer had entered by the front. At this late an hour, it was most likely Colonel Barkwater. He came nearly every evening to discuss the weather, and look for whatever suspicious aurors looked for when they were out. She hurried from the room, knowing that if he couldn't find her at once he would alert the entire world.

She discovered two customers, neither of whom was portly enough to be Barkwater. One of the men had his back turned to her, and the other was opening the wand boxes and looking inside. Knowing how much that would infuriate Edward, she coughed loudly. The man glanced up.

" Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked.

" Is this the one you were talking about?" the man jerked his head in her direction, while looking to his companion.

" Yes it is." the second man said.

Amanda grimaced. It was none other than Martin Ashwell. His hair was shorter, and he had a golden tan, but he looked just as repulsive as she remembered him.

" What are _you_ doing here?" she asked, coolly.

" As warm as ever, Miranda."

" Amanda.' she automatically corrected.

" Of course. " he smiled snakily." Perhaps I need a wand."

She narrowed her eyes.

" I thought you already had one too many." she replied.

He gave her a slight bow of the head.

" Well, if you must know...I heard it that _someone_ who looked a lot like _you_, was working in a place a lot like _this_."

The other man was still opening boxes, taking hte wands out and dropping the lids.

" _Please_ stop touching the wands, they are dleicate instruments." she told him. He only snickered.

" You see, I have been away in France." Martin continued, dramatically, ignoring his friend. " You broke my _heart _when you refused my marriage offer, but I had every intention of forgiving you."

" That is very generous. Stop knocking them over!" she shouted at the other man.

" Avery...I'm trying to have a conversation here. Do be quiet." Martin said gently.

Avery sauntered around the end of the counter and began rifling the pages of her magazine. He ripped out the picture of a pretty witch in a bathing suit bathing in the tub of rubies.

She stepped further out so that she could keep an eye on both men, and the doors.

" I heard an ugly rumor after I returned..." Martin tsked. " Isn't it _amazing _how quickly ugly rumors can spring up about nice people?"

She scowled at him, opeing her mouth to say something. He hurried on.

" I heard that you had been married, Amanda. And to...the owner of this somewhat dusty establishment?"

" That was no rumor. But don't pretend to be so surprised. Elias-"

" _Elias_?" Martin's jaw tightened slightly. " When did _you_ speak to Elias?"

" At my wedding. "

" What did he say?"

" That you were in a pet."

" Well, so I had heard you had married. I just didn't know to whom...I thought it was that Jan fellow. Elias kept this a secret...not that I blame him. And I wasn't in a pet. I couldn't care less about you."

He took a deliberate step closer to her. She stepped back, and realized her mistake as she cornered herself against a shelf. He reached out a hand toward her.

" What are you doing?"

" This..." he seized her necklace, and held it up. " What is this? _Pearls_? Now I see your motive! Pearls! Who would have thought?"he tugged it.

She jerked her head back.

" It is time for me to close the shop."

" Don't let us stop you." Avery piped, sweeping everything off of the counter. Amanda jumped.

" _Why _did you do that?" she raised her voice, trying to sound stern and demanding like Eloise. It sounded a bit more hysterical. A bit _screechy_.

" Because he wanted to." Martin answered. " And we do _what_ we want, _whenever_ we choose. Do you know what I want to do?"

" _Leave_, I hope." she glanced over at the clock.

" Go ahead, Amanda, and close up. We'll walk you safely home."

" Mr. Ashwell. It is late.My husband will be back any minute." She allowed herself to admire Martin's change of expression for a moment. He looked as htough he had a sudden taste of pure vinegar. " And he won't want any vermin loafing around his establishment."

Martin turned his head slowly toward Avery, but kept his eyes on Amanda. They were slitted and hostile.

" Avery? Why don't you...tidy things up a bit for her?"

" Pleasure." Avery took out his wand, and in the split second before he used it to blast one of the shelves over, Amanda noticed that it was made of ebony, and was quite battered.

" Stop it!" she lunged forward, but Martin pushed her back against the wall.

" You stay." he drawled. " I want to talk to you. I didn't come in here to shop or to watch Avery display his destructive tendencies...though it is entertaining." he paused long enough to watch Avery toss several sheets of papers on the floor, then tear another handful into tiny pieces.

Amanda made to dodge past him again, reaching for her pocket, but he pressed his elbow hard into her shoulder, pinning her against the wall. Reaching into her pocket, he took out her wand, and tossed it behind them.

" No, no, no, little girl." he smiled, tucking a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. Then he let his hand drop to her chest.

" Quit touching me!" she snarled, writhing under his touch. He only drove his elbow harder into her shoulder.

" You know...I really _do _think you are pretty. At times. That is why I wanted to tell you that I forgive you for not accepting my marriage offer. It's been almost a year hasn't it? A young girl like yourself must be growing restless. I can't give you _pearls_...not just yet. But perhaps I can give you what the pearls are _replacing_."

He squeezed her breast hard, and she yelped. Seizing his arm as he tried to lean in and kiss her, she lowered her mouth and bit down as hard as she could. His arm tasted sour, but she forced herself to bite harder, until the tang of blood filled her mouth.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him raise his other arm, and she closed her eyes tightly, anticipating the force of his blow.

A horrific crack sounded near her ear, but she felt no pain. Opening her eyes, but not her mouth, she saw Edward. He must have heard the commotion from the passageway, and had stealthily approached to see what was occuring.

Martin roared in pain and shook his arm, rattling Amanda's head. She realeased him, but it wasn't his bitten arm that he gripped. His right hand was hanging at an unusual angle. Edward lowered his walking stick, which he had just used to break her attacker's wrist. He wore a very icy glare, and Amanda had never in her life been more grateful to see another human being.

In his other hand, Edward held his wand, which was trained on Martin. Amanda glanced over to Avery, only to see he had been quietly and efficiently petrified.

" You bastard!" Martin snarled, groping with his left, bleeding hand, for his wand. " You've broken my arm!"

Edward gave a slight, cold smile, and placed a neat bodybind over Martin. Then he relieved him of his wand, and placed him in the corner by his companion. After a moment's thought, he cast a second spell that caused both men to collapse, unconcious.

" And it serves you right." he said.

Amanda reached for his arm, her hands trembling, but he fixed her with such a hard look that she froze. Dropping her hands, she gripped her skirts nervously. Behind him, she could see the disaster that Avery had created and swallowing down the fear that she hadn't noticed until now, she stepped around him, and knelt down. She began scooping up boxes, and wands.

She was a little shaky as she stood and dropped them on the counter. Tears suddenly filled her eyes. She was scared, and embarrassed, and very angry. Angry that she had allowed Martin to once again corner her. Angry that she could not defend herself, and could not stop them from vandalising.

Wiping her eyes roughly, she knelt to pick up the paper scraps. She froze at a hand on her shoulder.

" Where is your wand?"

" He took it, threw it...over there." even her voice was trembly. She sighed, and rested her hands on her knees, staring down at the splintery scuffed floor. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating?

After a moment, she heard his step. He went to where her wand lay among the several that had been blasted from the shelves. Stooping he retireved it gently, and handed it to her. Then he took her arm and hoisted her to her feet.

" Wait...let me clean up...it's my fault-"

" No! Leave it." his voice was sharp, but his glare was directed at Ashwell. " I'm going to floo the Ministry.Then we're going home. What is it?"

Her hand had gone to her throat, and with a look of shocked dismay, she had discovered that the locket was missing.

" My locket...it's gone!" she exclaimed. " That pig broke my locket! I swear if he did break it, I'll...have his head!" she stamped her foot, earning a briefly raised brow from Edward.

She leant over and began searching through papers and boxes. He must have kicked it during her struggle...she found it by the front door. After examining it thoroughly, she sighed with relief.

" It didn't break it. Only the clasp is sprung..." she sniffed.

" Wait here. " he said. " I'll only be a moment."

She watched him take up the keys from where she had dropped them, and stride toward the back. She thought about hastily tidying everything up, but decided she would rather not be alone in the room with the two men, even if they were magically secured. Gripping her own wand tightly, she edged past them and stood waiting for him in the passage.

When Edward re-emerged, he was accompanied by Giles, and a tall balck Wizard with a deep voice and a gold earring. They did a quick thorough investigation, identifying the two offenders, checking all of the wands to see what spells had been used. ( Except of course for Amanda's which was hidden away in her dress.) They used quick-quote quills to take down notes, and statements.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the black wizard, was very polite, and insisted gently that Amanda sit down and drink a glass of water before telling her story. For some reason, as she tried to tell it, her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

Then Giles and Shacklebolt left, and took the two 'prisoners' with them.

Edward and Amanda remained only long enough for him to carefully wrap her cloak about her shoulders, and close and lock the shop.

After they had Apparated to their home, he let them in, without having spoken a word, and took her cloak with as much care as he had given it. Not turning on a single light, and still not speaking, he gripped her wrist firmly and led her up the stairs.

By the time they had reached the door to her room, her heart was beating rapidly, and she couldn't swallow. So, was this where she was to learn the consequences of angering him? Could he really be that mad at her...even though he claimed to have heard nearly the entire conversation from the back room? What was he going to _do_?

He opened the door, and gently ushered her inside, gesturing for her to sit on the bed. As she did so, she heard the door being locked and warded behind her.

---

What he did to her that night, was shocking.

It was not rape. She welcomed it too easily, enjoyed it too much, though it was alien and almost brutal at times. The room had been lighted only with the small blue night bulb that remained in the bath, and she had felt her clothes dissolve with just a wave of wandless magic.

After that, it was skin and bones. There was neither love nor romance in it. He seemed to be removing all trace of martin's touch from her skin, marking her as his own again. It was masculine and strange, sometimes frightening, but she did not resist. She melted against every rough caress, answered every biting kiss.

Several times she had to cry out, but she wasn't sure herself if were from pleasure or pain. It confused her, and excited her.

He was a person of extreme and opposing emotions. His expression seemed angry, but his touch was restrained enough to never really hurt. His grip on her wrists was like steel manacles, yet warm, pinning her submissively to the mattresss, but his words were soft, first speaking nearly incoherently everything he felt about seeing her being touched by someone else. Then the words changed to a few endearments, then to soft pleading.

She didn't understand fully, but she did the best she could.

Near the end his eyes locked with hers, and even in the dim light, she could see the blue color, and the intensity. What was it they seemed to say? She could keep her own eyes open, and let her head roll back into the pillow. Overwhelmed, she barely notice when he placed his mouth on her and bit onto the soft skin.

Then, as quickly as the storm had risen, it had blown itself away, and the night closed silently around them. They merely lay, not knowing what to say as the sweat cooled on their bodies, and the sound of heavy breathing and heartbeats faded into the soft blackness of an exhausted sleep.

The night closed around them quite swiftly, neither knowing what to say as the sweat cooled on their bodies, and the sound of heavy breathing and heartbeats faded into the soft drunken blackness of an exhausted sleep.

She opened her eyes to see greyish light of cloudy morning at the window. Even though she had slept more than than twelve hours, she had great difficulty fighting her way to full conciousness. For the first time since Olivia's funeral, she had slept a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

The curtains had not been closed the night before and a beam of the murky light was shining on her face. She wanted only to roll over and return to slumber.

Stretching softly, she discovered with some surprise that Edward was still in the bed, and that her arm was pinned under his shoulder. It was quite numb.

Glancing down at the bed, she saw that the sheets were kicked about, and twisted at their waists.The night before,a sudden kaleidascope of memories ebgan resurfacing. Reaching out thoughtfully, she tasted her lips. They were swollen and tender, and tasted coppery. Sharp.

She tried gently to untangle at least a corner of the sheet with which to cover her exposed chest, and managed to just find enough loose fabric to be modest. She intended to wriggle down and go back to sleep, but her movements had roused him from his own troubled slumber.

Unlike her, he recalled right away what had occurred, and looked slightly taken aback. She was afraid for a moment, that he as going to apologize, or say soemthing awkward, bu he jsut continued to regarde her for sometime, with his crazy pale eyes, and crazed expression. Until she found herself placing her hand on his cheek and reaching close enough to kiss him. He let her, but then pulled away.

She winced as he raised up off of her numb arm, and then gasped with shock as he spun the covers off of her body.

" Edward!" she shrieked in a tiny disapproving voice, reaching for the sheet, as she blushed red and closed her eyes.

She felt his fingertips on her shoulder, where the skin was tender. Then on the places where his lips and hands had touched and held her roughly, and despite herself, her eyes fluttered open to watch, and she was startled by the feelings that the whisper soft touches were evoking in her body.

" I can't feel them..." she said huskily.

He peered at her, understanding better than she the reason for her dilated pupils, and erratic breathing, but refusing to believe. Hating himself, he pulled the sheet back over her, and tucked it under her hip. He might be _saying_ no, but he reamined half-leaning over her, propped on his elbow. With a finger, he brushed the tangled strands of her hair from her forehead, one at a time.

" Did I hurt you...?" he asked, softly.

" No."

" There is no excuse for what I did..." he began to smooth the sheet over her with his free hand. " And don't deserve your forgiveness."

" Perhaps not..." she agreed, as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder near the place he had bitten her the night before.It was an ugly mark, and it bothered him. he couldn't think what had possessed him to do such a thing. To _bite_ her! It was ugly and swollen, dark purple where his teeth had almost broken the skin.

He meant to summon a salve for it, but she had wrapped her arms around him, and pressed him close. He could not read the expression in her large, luminous grey eyes, but his hand, the hand smoothing the sheet, became more firm, pausing to caress and explore at random. Amanda arched toward him when he reached her breasts, raising one knee to cradle him. His lips somehow found their way to hers, and he kissed her without mercy, thinking she would relent. She only moaned in frustration when he pulled away.

" I shouldn't..." he said. " God knows what I've done already. You weren't well..."

" I...I..." she breathed, uanble to bring her thoughts into words. I feel empty...is what she wanted to say. Instead, she raised up halfway to kiss him, pulling him down with her, and not releasing him. He obliged.

This time, everything was very gentle, every kiss, every touch. And so languid. But he seemed slightly embarrassed afterwards,and he wouldn't meet her eye, but he hummed under his beath as he fumbled with his cufflinks.

She remained lying in bed, curled comfortably on her stomach as he rose to dress. She watched him try to fastent he cufflinks, and thought to herself that if he would just come closer, she would fasten them for him, but she had reached a stage of pleasant laziness, and had no wish to speak. He misunderstood her expression.

" You are quite pale..." he asked suddenly, concerned. She opened her eyes, guiltily, aware that she had nearly dozed off once more. " I'll have Polly bring something for you to eat...what would you like for breakfast? "

She started to answere that she was not hungry, but knew that would get her nowhere. Besides, now that she did think of it...

" French toast. With strawberries." she murmurred, as he stomach gave a soft rumble.

" Nothing else? It's been ages since you have last eaten."

" Oh..." she rolled onto her back. " I suppose an egg. And tea. I'm more thirsty than hungry."

The thought of tea pushed the possibilitly of sleep completely out of her mind, and with a sigh, she sat up stiffly, taking care to wrap the sheet discreetly around her shoulders. He frowned at her thoughtfully, and started to say something, only to shake his head.

" I must speak to Giles. " he stated, his hand on the doorknob." I shall not be too long."

* * *

Lyrics-Tom Petty


	28. Chapter 28 Strawberry Toast

_I want to paint your portrait_

_Hang your colors on my wall_

_Discussing form and content with my friends and drinks_

_And no one thinks at all_

_I see you in a different light_

_I see you in a different light--_

* * *

---Strawberry Toast---

Polly had begun to grow concerned about Amanda. Eleven o'clock had come and gone, but Amanda had not called for her. She hadn't heard her run a bath yet, either. At eleven thirty, she evanescoed a cold un-eaten breakfast away, and un-tied her apron. Eloise and Winter would be furious if they discovered that Amanda had missed a breakfast.

Marching to the stairs with hands on hips, Polly was prepared to call up, when the door to Amanda's room opened and Edward stepped out. He was tyng his cravat, and humming that song that Amanda always played. The one with the French lyrics.

Seeing Polly standing there, he smiled, looking a little insane in her opinion.

" Good morning Polly."

" Good morning sir."

" Could you please take Amanda a tray? She would like strawberry toast, a soft boiled egg and tea. "

" Yes sir. Can I get you anything?"

" No thank you. I have to see to the shop."

He passed her swiftly and casually, as though it were perfectly normal for him to be home, at noon, on a Wednesday. As soon as the door had closed behind him, Polly hurried into the kitchen and whipped up a brunch tray. She found Amanda seated at the dressing table. She had evidently just emerged from the bath, her skin was pink,and her hair, which she was brushing out, was damp and curling.

" Good morning Polly." she greeted. " What's that? It smells delicious!"

Polly sat the tray down, and watched with amused surprise as Amanda began to eat voraciously. Amanda...who had not _willingly_ eaten anything in the past few months. Polly supervised until the last of the tea was gone, and Amanda was resisting the temptation to lick the last of the syrup from her fingers.

" Thank you, Polly! Mmm...wonderful!"

" Amanda! You have a _bruise_ around your wrist!" Polly took up Amanda's hand and examined the mottled flesh.

" Oh!" Amanda colored "...there was an incident last night. In the shop. Please, don't tell Mother and Aunt Eloise. I want a chance to explain it to them...if it is not already rpinted int he paper."

" The paper? Goodness, what happened?"

" Some men came into the shop and created a little mischief. They tipped over some of the shelves, and I tried to stop them."

" Well, I don't like the look of that bruise." Polly was not looking at the bruise, but was scrutinizing Amanda's face. " You should have a healer look at it. Or Winter at the very least."

" No, I'll put some arnica ointment on it. I have a pot of it in the other bath. Oh, that reminds me, I'll need some help moving my things back into the other room. After I write my mother. " she self-conciously hid her arm on her lap.

That particluar bruise had not come from Martin. She was surprised to see how badly it had discolored, since she could not recall at what point Edward had squeezed her arm that hard. Of course she always had bruised quite easily. Unbidden, the sudden memory of her hands pinned over her head the night before returned to her, and she smiled with her equally bruised lips.

Polly took the tray away, and Amanda rummaged out a sheet of letter paper. She didn't have the chance to write anything, before she heard a commotion downstairs. Several voices, all of which were rising and falling dramatically.

" Yes Ms. Rookwood! Ms. Winter...please...?" Polly's voice joined the fray.

Amanda capped her pen and tossed it aside. Hurriedly, she rushed to the closet, digging through quickly, she pulled out one of her autumn dresses. It would disguise all of the marks, but was light enough not to attract attention for being obvioulsy out of season.. She had just worked it over her head when she heard Stella on the stairs.

" Amanda?"

" Yes. One moment..." she called. Glancing in the mirror, she smoothed out the dress, buttoned the sleeves, and brushed her undressed hair behind her ears.

She swung the door open to face Stella, who stood, hand raised to knock..or pound demandingly on the door.

" I am supposing you heard what happened." she observed drolly.

Stella engulfed her in a huge embrace, taking her by surprise. She winced as her mother's chin came against the place where Martin's elbow had pinned her to the wall.

" Are you all right?" Stella asked. " I would have been here sooner, bu we only just heard!"

" Heard? I assumed it would be in the Daily Prophet!"

" Oh, it might be. We heard it from Arthur Weasley. "

" _Arthur_? But how did he--"

" Yes. Mother, Aunt Eloise and I were in Diagon Alley this morning, and Eloise thought she would drop into the shop, but it was closed!"

" Yes, you see--"

" Then Arthur came along. He said he had something important to tell Edward. Where is he?"

" He's at the shop."

" No he isn't, we were just there."

" He only just left." she half raised a hand to point in the direction of the door, causing her sleeve to ride up. Stella saw the edge of the bruise, and gaped.

" A-_manda_! " Stella took up Amanda's hand and unbuttoned the sleeve." Oh my!"

" It's not as bad as it looks." she declared honestly. " Let's go downstairs."

Amanda started off, but Stella caught her skirt, and pulled her back.

" Not so fast, my dear." she took out her wand and murmurred something over her wrist. " This is the second time that I have done this for you. Why didn't Polly take care of it?"

" I'll only trust a few people to aim a wand at me." Amanda smiled.

Stella smiled in return, but it changed to a look of slight puzzlement as she healed the bruise.

" You seem different today. " she noted as they left the room. " Maybe it's the dress, but you seem so...grown-up."

" I am wearing my hair down. Perhaps that is it."

" Perhaps... "

Amanda wanted nothing more than to be alone. Just for an hour. Maybe an _entire_ hour in the garden. Alone, with just the fragrance of flowers, and her own thoughts, of which she ahd a great many. They were all somewhat tumultuous.

Instead of being alone, she was listening with growing unease as Giles expounded on the many inadequacies of the Ministry. He had arrived just after Amanda had finished giving a reasonably tailored account of the previous nights events to her family.Edward was with him, and for once, he did not seem irritated at finding his home filled with the Rookwood women.

Not five minutes later, Arthur Weasley also appeared.

Giles had begun his diatribe by apologizing profusely to Amanda for his absence the night before. He had been sent to Colchester to investigate an incident of Muggle hexing. There ahd been a bit of pandemonium, due to the use of magical fireworks that spelled out ugly words and threats, complete with graphic illustrations.

He had only just arrived back at the Ministry in time to join Kingsley, and they had both agreed that arresting the two men was great fun. Giles did not know much about Martin Ashwell, and grudge agaisnt Amanda. However, Martin's companion, Avery , was the son of a Deatheater, and was suspected of having been one himself, just before You -Know-Who was defeated. Avery was notorious, Giles siad, but not notorious enough.

The Ministry fined each man a minimal amount of money, not nearly enough to reimburse Edward for all of the work, time, and value that had gone itno the broken wands. For the physical harrassment that had occurred, each man was slapped metaphorically on the wrist and told to straighten up. If they had attacked a Pureblood in the same manner, a stiff penalty of several yars in Azkaban would have been their reward.

However, since Amanda did not fall into that elite group, and was estimated at having les value than the broken wands, the charge was dropped. Martin's broken wrist and nasty bite wound were treated sympatheticlaly and the two men were released, free to do as they pleased.

Giles, Edward, Arthur, Eloise, Stella, and Winter...in that order, were outraged. Giles being the most livid, and Winter the most controlled when it came to demanding to know what right the MInistry had in releasing two villains?

Personally, Amanda thought that the term villains was a little too romantic to be used. the word ' thugs ' was better suited, and she was the least upset upon hearing of their fate. She had not expected them to be punished, for truly, they ahd not had a chance to truly _do _anything, and name calling was not an unpardonable crime in any world.

" And this is not the _first _time that I have seen the Ministry let those men slither from it's grasp!" Arthur informed them. " I just know that Avery, was involved in that playground fiasco with Augustu-- I'm sorry Eloise..."

Eloise only shrugged. She looked rather abashed, stil being slightly ashamed of herself for not having realized just how appalling an Ashwell could be.

" I do not claim Augustus as one of my own family, Arthur. I make no apologies for him, and neither should anyone else. "

Amanda leaned into her mother.

" Augustus?" she whispered.

Stella squeezed her hand.

" A relative. He...was arrested for being a Deatheater."

Amanda would have to investigate the family tree and discover on which branch this particular bad seed had ripened. She had regarded the tree a few times at Eloise's house, and discovered it to be a tangled, thorny mess. Most of it's 'leaves' were classifed into three distinct categories.' Us', 'The Deceased', and the ' Rookwoods With Whom We Have Little or Nothing to Do'.

Sometime after Eloise had inherited her parents money and house, there had been a lot of pruning in the familial garden, and a lot of dissension, and ulitmatley division, amongst the ranks. As far as the other Rookwoods were concerned, there was " Eloise" and then, "Everyone Else", and the two were as incompatible as matches and gasoline.

Apparently Arthur felt the same disdain for the 'other Rookwoods', for he gave Eloise's hand a gallant and reassuring pat, before he turned to explain just how close several aurors had been to actually catching Avery and Augustus Rookwood red-handed.

" Of course, that wasn't my departmnet, but I _had_ been watching Avery for months over those pencils."

Giles shook his head.

"I predict that things are going to ge out of control. I can't explain it, precisely, but I feel it. Right there." he stated, prodding his midsection." Something is bubbling underground...stewing right under this seemingly happy surface we are being shown."

" What do you mean, exactly?" Stella asked.

" I mean...that I believe those former Deatheaters know something that we do not, and are scheming away unhindered. No doubt working toawrd the total expulsion, or even death of all who can't claim to be full blooded. Genocide. That's what it is. I've seen it attemted beofre, and it is a hellish fervor led by the bigoted, the fantaical,a nd the wealthy!"

He puctuated this thought by pounding a meaty fist on the table, rattling the set of crystalware Eloise had given as a wedding gift. Eloise winced only slightly, and elegantly extinguished a cigarette in the nearest ashtray. Settling back, she began fiddling with the ivory cigarette holder.

Amanda watched drowsily as her aunt's tapered fingers played along the carvings. She had never noticed it before. It was a scrimshaw engraving of a seated woman, with unbound hair. She was looking thourgh a telescope at the stars. Behind her, a man in strange robes leaned gently over her shoulder, his lips parted only inches from her shapely ear, as though he were about to secretly confess something to her while she stargazed. It was very beautiful, but the man wore an expression of extreme sadness. so realistic, that it was unbearable to gaze at him for too long. She returned her attention to the others, but the conversation had evolved into detailed conspiracy theories.

Soon, Arthur had to leave, but not before he gave her several warnings.Giles reiterated those warnings.

By the end of the day, Amanda's world had been basically limited to the confines of house and garden. She watched as an interesting array of wards and spells were cast over all the entrances to prevent the possibility of intruders.

Throughout all of this, Edward had remained farily quite, only answering here and there with rather biting sarcasm whenever Eloise or Giles attempted to engage him in conversation. Amanda could only imagine that he was furious with the damage done to his stock, and most likely very irritated with the amount of trouble she had cost him over the past year.

Ashamed at this, she did her best to stay out of the way while they were applying the wards, and rolled up her sleeves to help Polly in the kitchen. The_ least _she could do was see that her well-meaning guests were refreshed before they had to leave. She vowed, as she hastily began to peel potatoes that she would try to be less trouble in the future, and would make it up to Edward as best she could. If it was not too late.

* * *

Different Light-Lyrics, V. peterson/S. hoffs


	29. Chapter 29 She's Like The Wind

_Look in the mirror and all I see  
Is a young old man with only a dream  
Am I just fooling myself  
That she'll stop the pain_

_Living without her  
I'd go insane  
Feel her breath on my face  
Her body close to me_

_Can't look in her eyes  
She's out of my league  
Just a fool to believe  
I have anything she needs_

_She's like the wind --_

* * *

--She's Like The Wind--

Despite the flurry the event had caused, despite the bruises, the wards, and the constant owls from people, Edward and Amanda soon settled back into a reasonable impersonation of a normal life. Amanda's things were returned to the master suite, and she could once more the day doing whatever she pleased, without having people tell her to rest, or eat, or sit down. Reading, sewing, writing in her journal, playing the piano, and experimenting with new forms of cookery were her main employment, as they were creative, and kept her much to busy to think about Olivia, Martin Ashwell, the Ministry, or Deatheater's. She also found useful work. Edward agreed to bring all of the books and receipts home, and he still trusted her to clean the unfinished wands. She could also sort and label the ingredients into glass jars.

And there was her own herb boxes to tend, and several of the side-chairs needed re-upholstering. She heeded Amele's advice and decided to do it by hand, instead of using a re-touching spell. She regretted that choice after seven hours of backbreaking posture; cutting, holding, stapling, un-stapling...without ever getting a single chair satisfactorily straight.

Stubbornly, she refused help, and eventually managed to get two chairs completed, though the stripes ran horizontal on one, and rather diagonally on the other. Throwing down the stapler in frustration, she had owled Amele for more fabric, much to the older woman's amusement. The fabric had been sent, and Amanda managed, without uttering a single vulgarity, to finish the chairs.

Even Edward thought to compliment them, and was kind enough not to mention the diagonal one.

By the end of April, she had the means with which to halt the incessant Ministry owls. She was, to her great relief, expecting again. This time she had Stella escort her to Healer Thoroughgood's as soon as she first suspected. He confirmed that suspicion, congratulated her heartily, and gave her a list of things to do and do not.

She felt morbidly ashamed at her self for not feeling joy or anticipation. All she could feel was the tension in her body uncoiling. It felt like the time when she had dove into very deep water, and couldn't kick off from the bottom. Though she hadn't been under the water for more than a few seconds, it seemed like hours of hard work to approach the always distant surface. Nothing had ever felt as good as at last being able to break through and take that hard earned, deep, sweet breath.

Thoroughgood's affirmation had felt like that. A deep, sweet breath.

In her newly acquired 'adult' voice, she had insisted that Stella not tell anyone just yet. She couldn't bear the thought of having any type of fuss made, until a fuss was no longer unavoidable. She was still raw from her last heartache.

Stella agreed, with a look comprised of some understanding, bewilderment, and concern.

That left telling Edward, and Amanda chose to do so outright, and as straight-forward as possible. She had expected him to look as relieved as she felt, however, his expression was inscrutable. It might have been horror. Horror, guilt, anger, and a certain amount of dubiousness. For few moments, he stared out of the library window, even though it was dark outside, and she knew he could see no further than their reflection in the polished glass.

Then he seated them both on the sofa.

" Already." he stated. " And...it's certain?"

" Yes. I saw Healer Thoroughgood-"

" You left the house?" he demanded sharply.

" With Mother."

He pinched his eyes closed as if he had just witnessed a near-accident.

" With Stella, yes...that is fine. Is everything...well?"

" Yes. Perfectly fine."

He nodded to himself. " Then I suppose I should put in the notification."

She gave a little shrug at his aloofness. It had been this way since the night at the shop; clipped but civil conversations. He hadn't touched her at all, not even a kiss in the evenings. Yet, he didn't seem particularly angry, either.

Oh, why had she never thought to observe more about men and their peculiar ways? she thought in exasperation.

He noted her look of distress, and with hesitation, took her hand. He was about to ask her something that had been weighing heavily on him, when she impulsively threw herself into his arms. He had no choice but to hold her, patting her back awkwardly as she cried on his shoulder. He was enveloped by the sugary smell of her hair.

" What is this?" he asked.

She wanted to explain that 'this' was a long overdue weakness on her behalf. She had shed little or no true tears since the death of her father, even though she had been through what she considered to be an emotional and eventful two years since that time. She did not count the guilty drug induced tears in the hospital as being much release.

She did not manage to say this much, but only managed to convey that she felt he was angry at her and she was clueless as to what she thought he might expect from her.

He softened somewhat at her state, himself never having been one of those cold men who could ignore a woman crying. That is exactly how Dinah had managed him for so long, and whereas he was veritably suspicious of tears, he could not help but feel sympathy. Hastily, he began reassuring her that he was not angry at her.

He was not quite sure what he did feel toward her. There was a feeling, and it was very much like jealousy over her, and very much like annoyance at her, but then again it was neither. It was the same as wanting something that was costly, and hating the object for being not costly, but attractive enough to gain attention. He wanted sometimes to take her to his bosom and shower her with kisses and gifts; and at other times he wished that the law had never been passed, bringing her so completely into his life.

His life had been at one time, relatively simple, and routine. Everything had a shelf. Yet even though everything had been so drastically altered, in more ways than he had words or time to describe, he couldn't help but forgive her whenever she was this close. He chose, instead of attempting to explain this, to lay the blame for his cool demeanor on the shoulders of the Ministry, and their incessant harassment.

She looked reasonably skeptical.

" Amanda..." he peeling her away gently, " I know about the notes from the Ministry."

Her eyes widened, slightly.

" I received a copy of each. I...was keeping them locked away to avoid upsetting you."

" How did you know...about _mine_?" she asked slowly.

" I found one when I was cleaning up the shop. Earlier I had found some partially burned envelopes in the parlor fireplace. If I hadn't found the intact note, I might have always wondered what sort of questionable correspondence was worthy of being so hastily incinerated. " he shifted uncomfortably at that thought, for he had for a few short minutes after discovering the envelopes, gone slightly insane with jealousy.

" I was burning them to keep them from angering you." she admitted sheepishly

Which was, she thought to herself, later, very O. Henry of us.

They sat there side by side in a more comfortable silence. She was somewhat soothed, and he too began feeling that relief in which she had been been revealing since speaking to Healer Thoroughgood. Perhaps...he thought, daring to put his arm around her as they gazed into the fire, perhaps he had been too cold towards her without proof of her guilt. He really shouldn't judge her on what Dinah had done, or might have done.

But even as he thought this, a creeping, unwelcome thought entered his mind. Amanda might be amicable now...but what would she be like after they no longer had to worry about the law? After this child was born, she was free of any restrictions, free of any responsibilities. That thought made him feel slightly ill. He knew he had done exactly what he had promised himself not to do in growing accustomed so easily to the girl, but she made it very difficult not to to like her. He hated the prospect of the future now, and guiltily, he found himself dreading this child. This child meant that they would be free of Ministry restrictions, and he could, quite possibly lose her affections.

Yes...he thought in the most secret part of his mind. He almost resented it.

Alarmed, he buried that thought as deeply as possible, and pulled her closer, With a wave of his hand, her record player began spinning, and soon the room was filled with the intricate sounds of Mozart, the prefect music by which to forget everything that was not beautiful about the world.

An idea had suddenly occurred to him. There were many months ahead of them until the baby was born, why shouldn't he woo her in that time? Wasn't he a powerful wizard? Did not he know how to turn table napkins into roses? Their engagement had been so spur of the moment, the marriage so hasty and restrained...there had been no time for courtship. Barely enough time for pleasantries!

Certainly, this past year had been no gala for her, he realized. What had happened in her new life to make her want to maintain it? What had he done to ensure her friendship? Well, it was never too late to begin fresh, and he still knew a few tricks. She wore the locket he had given her with almost fanatical reverence, which obviously showed that she was sentimental and romantic. His mind flooded with possibilities. Places to go, things buy for her. Things to do for her, and with her. As if Fate had chosen to be kind, the record changed tracks, and the music that followed, the overture to " The Magic Flute" began to play

He stood abruptly and offered his hand.

She took it, looking at him with a puzzled expression. As soon as she was on her feet, he pulled her into his arms.

" Dance with me? " he asked.

She laughed, and the sound was like bells.

" Well...if I must..." she replied teasingly. " But not too fast on the spins, if you please."

He simply could not think why they had not danced since their wedding, except that the idea had never spontaneously occurred to him. Now that it had, he prepared to do it often. He liked the way her hair fell out of it's clasp, the way her cheeks pinkened, and the way she parted her lips to breath.

The music ended too soon, and he returned her to her seat, and summoned a glass of water, as she fanned herself with her book.

" Where did you learn to dance?" he asked.

" I had an instructor. My grandmother, Grandmother Garrett, that is, hired him. "

He raised a brow. " And what dances did he teach you?"

" Everything but the tango. Grandmother said it was vulgar."

He nearly choked at that innocent statement.

" Well, my compliments to the instructor."

" And you? " she asked.

" I do believe I have mentioned my Aunt Gertrude. Fortunately, she was much stronger dancer than singer, and when I say strong, I do mean it in the most robust sense of the word. There was no chance but to learn...or die in the battle."

" Well..I am glad you chose to learn."

" And I. Never before have I been gladder. "

* * *

She's Like The Wind-Lyrics, PatrickSwayze/ Stacy Widelitz 


	30. Chapter 30 The Orient Express

_Babe, tomorrows so far away  
Theres something I just have to say  
I dont think I can hide what Im feelin inside  
Another day, knowin I love you_

_And I, Im getting too close again  
I dont want to see it end  
If I tell you tonight will you turn out the light  
And walk away knowin I love you?_

_Im gonna take you by surprise and make you realize,  
Amanda  
Im gonna tell you right away, I cant wait another day,  
Amanda  
Im gonna say it like a man and make you understand  
Amanda_

_I love you--_

* * *

--The Orient Express--

Amanda had told the other Rookwood's about her condition, when they came to visit for her birthday. There was a distinct air of awkwardness, as they tried to balance their air of congratulatory happiness, with somber respect for the still painful loss of her first child.

She asked only that they did not buy or make gifts yet...knowing from experience that it was too painful to look upon the empty blankets and cradles later on. She would much prefer to be short of items at a later date, than to be overwhelmed with unused thing in the event something went wrong.

Even though she had warned them, it was still a great temptation to herself. She wanted nothing more than to go out with Stella and Amele and look at bonnets and the incredibly tiny leather boots created by the cobbler in Hogsmeade. The Wizarding world was no different from the Muggle world, American or European, in having a great fancy for miniatures.

It was not unusual when shopping for children, to see miniature robes and hats, tiny play wands that were also used as teethers, short stubby broomsticks that would fly a child a few inches over the ground, replica potion sets, and quaffles no bigger than apples.

In the more modern, off-beat stores, products ranged from alarming, ( bottles that emitted colored smoke), to indicative, ( the diapers that changed colors when it was time to be changed.). Some were merely nerve wracking, such as the pacifiers that shrieked when they were sucked. Amele's son, Renee, had one, and Amele called it a 'soother', though Amanda couldn't see what could possibly be soothing about it.

As in all things, Amanda tended to be attracted the more calm and substantial necessities. Objects that could exist in both worlds without ever being obvious. Those essentials were still stowed away in the attic, so there was no need to go out searching for more. She contented herself with making up great lists of what she would buy and make after she was certain the baby would be safe.

She did however, find herself one day admiring a miniature tea table with chairs and a tea set with a magically replenishing tea pot that never got hot enough to scald. She had Stella with her that day, and her mother joked lightly that it was too bad the adult size tea pots did not come with such a feature.

Amanda agreed, and though she was certain she might regret it, she purchased the set, which was quite expensive, and stowed it away against the hope that one day she would have a daughter to play tea party on it's polished surface. Against her better judgement, she unlocked the nursery, and she and Stella placed the tea table inside hastily, before exiting. Amanda had not intended to ever open that room again. Even without the uncomfortable memories; it retained the air of oppressiveness that she associated with Dinah.

For that reason alone, she had decided, that when the time came, it would be the next bedroom across the hall that became the nursery. With that thought, she once again locked the door, and went down with Stella, feeling for the first time the slightest ripple of excitement about her condition.

----

She kept herself preoccupied, and gave little heed to the passing of time.

June came silently, and with it, her first anniversary.

She had not thought about her anniversary as anything more than the Ministry's deadline. She certainly had not expected anything by way of gifts or memories. Therefore, she was in complete shock when she discovered that Edward had arranged for a lunch aboard the infamous Orient Express.

He in turn, had been slightly unprepared for her absolute ecstasy in discovering that the train was 'real'

" Well, I knew it was real. " she defended herself, at his look. " I just hadn't really thought that it might still be real. These are things that we can only fantasize about in America, you know."

" There are, if I am not mistaken, trains in the States." he corrected.

" Not the Orient Express." she replied. " It is simply the royalty of trains."

" And how does a little girl in Louisiana learn about our royal trains?"

She pursed her lips, briefly.

" From books."

" What books?"

" English novels."

"Which English novel?"

" Murder on the Orient Express." she confessed.

" I thought so." he answered smugly. " Well, we can only hope our excursion won't be so eventful. No Mr. Ratchetts for us. At least you shall have a chance to see a bit more of the country than just what you can see through the windows of the house."

" I didn't know that Wizards read Muggle literature."

" Well, we can't be Wizards all the time, Amanda. Like today for instance. Today, we are merely tourists enjoying our first anniversary." he took her hand.

" And it is a beautiful day for it, as well." she agreed.

Two hours later, she wasn't so sure. The movement of the train and the smells of the food had caused her to feel very ill. She never let him suspect though, for it would ruin the entire day, and it had been a very thoughtful gesture on his behalf. He had no doubt seen this landscape a hundred times or more in his lifetime, yet he patiently answered all of her questions. He also gave her detailed histories of every place they passed thorough.. Some of the history was basic Muggle knowledge, and some, in a lower voice, was the history of Witches and Wizards paralleling the more familiar events.

This kept her mind preoccupied, and by drinking very cold water and humming in a low deep tone, she found she could keep control of her nausea as long as she avoided staring directly at anything that had a pattern, such as the upholstery. He was right, in that the adventure was event-less, and though the reasonable part of her mind knew that it would be, a small imaginative part of her had hoped...well, that something truly amazing would happen. But she was so busy enjoying herself she only hardly noticed that it did not.

Everything was so incredibly beautiful-the carved wood, the expensive ornamentation. She personally had never seen such grandeur, and she wanted nothing more than to take pictures of it. She had no means with which to do this however, she could only commit to memory every detail and luxury. She tried to stare very hard at the carpeting so that she could remember it's patterns, and at the curtains so that she could remember their exact color.

It was extremely difficult to do this as well as eat, listen to Edward, watch the other diners, and enjoy the passing scenery.

Edward was in good spirits. He had succeeded in burying his reservations about the future, and what it might bring. The day was clear and blue, the countryside was lush and green, and his wife looked remarkably lovely in a navy blue suit dress, a creamy satin jabot at her slender throat. He wasn't sure what to call the style that Polly had formed her hair into, to him the word that sprang first to mind was 'puff'. It was soft puff however, and very flattering. His plans for courting her were going smoothly, and he was enjoying the experience as well.

He was constantly reaching across the narrow table to hold her hand, and every time she smiled at him, he found himself prattling away at whatever subject, hoping to impress her. Whenever she did seem impressed, he would get tongue tied and forget what his point was to be.

When he noticed she was staring at the carpet, he asked if he was boring her.

" No." she smiled sheepishly. " I...never mind. It's silly."

Intrigued, he leaned closer.

" I know spells to make you talk." he said.

" You would find nothing of interest." she replied. " I was merely admiring the carpet pattern. I thought I might sketch a segment in my journal so that I could remember it. "

He looked down at the floor, frowning thoughtfully at it for a second or two. Then he took her hand and pressed it down flat against the table. When he lifted it, there was a glossy postcard lying underneath. The picture on it's front was one of those cleverly angled photographs that managed to capture a small particle of everything, in such a manner as to make the room unrecognizable to anyone who had not seen it in person.

She gave a small squeal of delight, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed. The other diners, who had already given them a look of blatant curiosity and thinly veiled disapproval, were now conscientiously ignoring them.

" Do something else." she whispered.

What will you give me in return?" he asked lightly. She dropped her eyes briefly.

" I'm sure I'll think of something..." she replied.

He took his napkin, which was still resting on his lap, and wadded it into a small ball. Glancing around to be certain they were still being ignored, he drew his wand. Since he was seated with his right hand against the window, there was little chance of anyone but Amanda seeing it. He always said, that if a Muggle did notice, and commented, there were more friendly ways of smoothing the situation than simply Obliviating the poor chap.

" Produce a top hat." he said. " Produce a top hat, and tell them you are a stage magician. Human's are an extremely gullible race that are relieved to have an explanation, even if they know you are lying."

For this purpose, she knew that he always carried, as did Giles, and Eloise, a simple deck of trick cards. It seemed to delight the older set of wizards immensely to use the occasional parlor trick.

Edward's magic however was no parlor trick. With a spell muttered in a low voice, and a small turn of the wrist, the napkin began to turn red, in the same way it might if someone had spilled blood or ink at the corner and let it slowly wick across the pristine white fabric. Amanda bit her lip, hoping there was no penalty for changing the color of a restaurants napkins.

When the napkin was fully colored, he released it, and instead of it simply opening into a wrinkled red mess, it unfolded swiftly, and it took her a moment to realize that it had changed to a read rose. The 'unfolding' had been a very fast blooming!

She lifted it from the table, and felt of the silky petals. It was real, right down to the dangerous thorns along the stem. A sweet hint of rose fragrance emanated from within it's nestled petals.

When she lay it back down, he prepared to return it to it's original form. However, she had, in a moment of mischievousness, drawn the toe of her shoe up the outside of his leg, and with a startled grimace, he dropped his wand on the table with a clatter. The rose, rather than now being a napkin, was simply a pool of red liquid that began to stain the tablecloth, and drip over the side.

Amanda placed her fingertips to her lips, more to hide her smile than to show remorse for her action. He did not have the chance to clear away the mess before a disapproving waiter had seen. Shortly after that awkward moment,( in which the man, his lips pursed beneath a prim pencil thin moustache, tried to fathom how two glasses of water had managed to leave a wine stain on the tablecloth), Edward decided it was time for them to disembark, and rather than wait for the train to stop, they slipped into the vestibule, where he promptly Disapparated them, the sound of the tracks and the brakes disguising distinctive 'pop' neatly.

The only person who noticed their unaccountable disappearance was the disgruntled, and somewhat bewildered, waiter.

---------

By the time the tour was over, she was happily exhausted, but too excited to rest. Even after they arrived home, she was still excited and could not sit still. She put away her things, straightened some books, sat at the piano, walked to the windows, sat back at the piano, and rose again to fiddle with the antimacassars. At last she sat down with her journal and pen.

She incurred an unfavorable look from Edward when for the tenth time she asked the name of a specific area they had passed through so she could write it down. Also the names, the proper British terms for any trees, fileds, people, houses, animals, curves, posts, fences, etc. that she might have seen. Though he was amused, he did notice her drawn pale expression, and gently took the journal. The clock had just struck eleven, and she had not been truly still a single minute the entire day.

" Write it tomorrow." he suggested. " You need to rest now."

" I am resting." she replied. She was seated at the edge of one of the library chairs, bouncing her knee excitedly.

" Well, then you need to rest more intensely." he said. " Do you want me to have to answer to Eloise or your mother?"

" I did enjoy myself." she said.

" I assumed as much. " he said, tartly, though he smiled. " Here, let me help you upstairs. Unless...you'd rather something to eat first?"

She saw he was only teasing, which was a great relief. She had never had a lunch that consisted of a hundred courses. Or at least it had seemed like a hundred courses. She lost count after three.

" No thank you." she laughed lightly. " I think will rest. But could you bring that book for me? I won't be able to sleep. And I really should have practiced that piece more...I could just spend five minutes on it--"

He brought her book, but turned her way from the piano.

" It will wait until tomorrow. Do you want to wake Polly?"

She shrugged mildly, knowing that Polly's rooms had a Silencing spell around them, and allowed herself to be led up the stairs. By the time she reached the top, she realized, with some surprise, that she might be just the faintest bit sleepy. By the time she had dressed for bed, she was yawning...and halfway through brushing out her hair she fell asleep, falling gently against his shoulder, a smile still lingering on hr mouth. With a satisfied look, he took the brush gently from her hand, and after a brief kiss to her temple, extinguished the lights.

* * *

Amanda-lyrics, Boston 


	31. Chapter 31 The Truth

_**authoress4eternity-**Thanks for dropping by again! I'm glad you liked the last few chapters. I was so excited to see what she had done with him...even if it did mess my story up a little. I am just thankful I had written over 50 chapters on mine before the book came out. Otherwise, I might have changed courses. Hope you enjoy this chapter as well. It's where the fun sets in, I think.  
_

* * *

_Words like violence_

_Break the silence_

_Come crashing in_

_Into my little world_

_Painful to me_

_Pierce right through me_

_Can't you understand_

_Oh my little girl_

_All I ever wanted_

_All I ever needed_

_Is here in my arms_

_Words are very unnecessary_

_They can only do harm_

* * *

--The Truth--

A week or so after the the train ride, Amanda was overcome with the inexplicable urge to crochet something. Rummaging through her pattern box, with every intention of crocheting a luncheon cloth or table runner, she came across a pattern for baby booties, worked in fine filet, with rosettes at the toe. She put the pattern aside, only to take it up again and examine it. She took up the pattern for a rather boring runner, then another for a lampshade cover. A lampshade cover, she thought, was just what the table lamp in the parlor needed.

Once she had settled herself on the chaise, with her workbasket, and a good light, she found herself irresistibly drawn back to the baby shoes. Giving up, she decided to try just _one_, and quickly changed out her thread and hook for something much finer. The pattern was agonizingly tedious, and difficult to follow, but at last she had the shoe shape begun well enough to be recognizable.

Just as she was finishing, Polly came in with a tray of tea, and when she noticed what Amanda was making, the woman had dropped her duster, and clasped her hands under her chin.

Until that time, Amanda had not realized that she had been remiss in informing the other woman of her condition. Feeling incredibly guilty she had dropped the small shoe into her lap, and held her hands up in supplication.

" Oh, Polly. I _am _sorry!" she said. " I wasn't keeping it from you intentionally...I just haven't wanted to talk much about it. "

" Oh, don't worry about _that_! How do you _feel_?" Polly asked breathlessly.

" Rather well, actually."

" Couldn't I make you anything to eat? Something special?"

" No, thank you. I haven't been particularly hungry. Just an unusual urge to crochet. I guess that sounds strange."

" Nothing strange. New mothers always want odd things, but that doesn't make it strange. Here, let me at least get you a stool for your feet. And you've been up and around so much!"

Amanda gestured the other woman to sit for awhile with her, which was not an uncommon routine. She liked to talk to Polly, though the other woman was slightly stiff at times. She still had the occasional amusing anecdote, either about her family or about her first years of service to Winter.

At first, she had not wanted to say much of anything to Amanda, but bit by bit, after she came to trust her, she revealed that Eloise had made her so nervous that she ended up breaking one of Eloise's perfume bottles on the first day. And whereas Winter,( whose dogma on servants was that only married women must keep an aloofness with their maids, but spinsters and widows could afford to befriend them) Eloise had apparently mistrusted Polly for the first four years.

" I couldn't pour tea for her but she didn't think I was after her silver." Polly laughed. " But still, I do admire her. I hope to be just like her when I am her age."

Amanda found it acceptable enough to be friends with the maid, but then, she had never had one before, and being rather young, she saw no harm in it, so long as Polly did not try to pry to deeply into personal matters. Amanda liked for friendship to be a surface pleasantry. If she sought deeper guidance and advice, she would turn to her mother, or a friend such as Amele who did not share the same quarters.

She was at that point in her pregnancy where she welcomed _any_ diversion which did not involve food or moving around in too violent a motion. She was so dizzy, that even the notes on the sheet music would spin and blur if sat down at the piano, and make her queasy. She found that to play the music, she had to stare at the wall, and play only those songs she knew by touch.

She spent the greater amount time listening to the record player instead, which was the perfect solution, provided she did not allow herself to watch the record actually spinning. It became so bad, that Stella took her to see Healer Thoroughgood, who reassured her by saying that she was perfectly normal, that she should eat soda crackers, and that it meant the baby was going to be a Quidditch player.

Lying at home, in her bed, with cold compresses applied to her forehead, she hoped that it became a famous Quidditch player, as that was the only way it could justify the suffering. Edward, whose romantic plans had been momentarily halted due to her illness, tried awkwardly to amuse her, but eventually, she became so irritated with herself for feeling bad, that she began to speak sharply to him, and eventually he retired to the library, where he spent his hours in solitary sullenness.

---

Eloise had never been so beloved as the day that she arrived with a case of small glass bottles, each holding a carefully concocted potion ideal for relieving a woman's discomfort during pregnancy. She apologized for not having them sooner, but the potion had to season for three weeks.

" One vial a day, in the morning with a cold glass of water. Never more than one. And keep them in the cold pantry, they have kelp in them and you don't want_ that _to spoil."

Amanda could hardly wait for the next morning, when she could ring for Polly to bring her one. She had woken up much earlier than usual however, and then remembered that the day was Sunday. Sundays Polly had the entire day off, and was all the way in Cornwall, visiting with her family.

Resolving herself to the necessity of having to negotiate the morning and the staircase in order to find relief, Amanda forced herself out of the bed. She found a note from Edward, reminding her that he was taking the morning to buy unicorn hair. This yearly event took place on the Hogwarts school grounds, where he claimed they kept unicorns. He was never happy when he had to purchase such rare supplies, he could, he claimed "remember when it was only ten galleons a peck for unicorn hair." Apparently, now he could spend ten and get a fourth of that.

Tucking the note into her silver box, which was packed tightly with such notes and letters, she chided herself for the past week, and her short-temper, resolving to prepare something special for dinner. Surely with the help of Eloise's brew, she could stand to make _something _he liked. This was the extent of her thoughts as she staggered into her dressing room to find something cool and comfortable to wear.

As she was dressing, she began to experience a feeling of great unease. At first she thought it might be physical, and she held her breath, trying to place it. Mentally, she felt out every limb and organ, listened to her own heartbeat. No..it was something else. A subtle discomfort, such as when the air was too cool or too hot to notice right away. Hastily she pulled a pale green cotton dress over head, and began buttoning it as she stepped out.

She thought it might be only a mild claustrophobia, but when she exited, the feeling only intensified,only now it had a familiarity to it. She felt very _alone_.

This was not the first time she had been alone, and she was never nervous or scared of dark rooms, or corners. This aloneness was different. She had the sudden and terrifying sensation that she might be alone in the bedroom, but that someone else was in the _house_.

Her breath quickened as she stood, trying to decide what to do. It would be easy enough to open the door, and investigate, but for some absurd reason, her hands were shaking, and the thought of going downstairs was as improbable as leaping from the third story window.

Taking up her wand, she stood, facing the door and straining her ears. She could hear nothing. Edward could have returned early, or Polly may have forgotten a pattern or recipe for her mother. Or, it could be her imagination.

Swallowing, she advanced carefully toward the door, making no sound as she tread barefoot across the hardwood floor. Thankfully, due to her perseverance in keeping all of the hinges well oiled, the door was also silent as she swung it slowly open. The doors to the other upstairs rooms were closed.

Listening again, she heard nothing, but the anxiety did not dissipate. It was now severe enough to cause her pulse to pound rapidly.

Her first instinct was to want Edward.

Or Eloise. Polly, Stella,..._anyone_ who could use a real wand. Glancing down the hall toward the balcony, she realized what she wanted to do. Perhaps she was just imagining things, and perhaps she was being foolish, but she would risk being ridiculed this one time. Creeping to the balcony door, she opened it and beckoned Crisp inside.

For once, he was relatively silent, and she hurried with him back into her room, glancing over her shoulder at the staircase as she did, certain that at any moment, an unfamiliar and evil face was going to appear.

As soon as her door was closed and locked, (For what good that would do, she thought), she took out a piece of paper and scrawled a hasty note in a shaky hand. She couldn't send it to Edward, he had told her that the grounds to Hogwarts were protected by anti-Apparation/Disapparation charms. He wouldn't be able to come fast enough. To Amele? No, she had the children, and couldn't simply leave them on a whim.

She tied the note shakily to Crisp's scrawny leg.

" Take that to Aunt Eloise. Make sure that she, or Winter, or Stella open it immediately. And Crisp, for god's sake, _please_ hurry!" she whispered. The bird seemed to understand. He too, kept his head cocked, as though listening or sensing something at a great distance.

He flew out of the smaller, high dressing room window, which faced the side of the house, and had been gone only a few minutes when she felt the tension in the air slacken, and she began to relax.

She still did not hear anything, or anyone, and began to chide herself on being so foolish.

As soon as the fear began to fade, she felt a bit weak. The room spun slightly, and she thought once more of the vials downstairs. She decided that she could simply creep out of her room again and descend quietly, watching carefully for intruders. If everything was as it should be, then the doors to the library, dining room, study and kitchen would be closed, and she should be able to see from the landing whether or not they were. IF the slightest thing were out of place, she promised herself, she would return to her room immediately.

Courage failed her for quite some time. She merely stood regarding her door, hoping to hear Eloise's reassuring, and no doubt irritated, voice at any moment. At last, she could no longer ignore the roiling in her stomach, and took a deep breath. There was still a twinge of apprehension, but that was most likely residual, it took a much longer to _lose_ fear than to build it.

She forced herself to walk towards the landing, and when she felt nothing, and saw nothing out of the ordinary , she relaxed, and was about to lower the wand when she heard a muffled noise in what must be the study. It sounded as if something metal, perhaps a lamp base, had fallen to the thick rug.

Amanda froze, and held her breath again. She wished the blood would stop rushing through her ears, it was making it very difficult to hear anything. Another smaller thump. She began to inch backwards, preparing to return to the sanctuary of the bedroom.

Just as she found the next step up with her bare heel, she heard the opening of the front latch. Relief flooded her as she saw Polly's figure enter, and close the door, unaware of her mistress standing above her own the landing.

She didn't remove her hat, which meant she must have returned only briefly to retrieve something. When she turned and espied Amanda, she started, and frowned.

Amanda placed a finger to her lips, and tried through urgent signals, to explain why Polly should not go into the parlor. The other girl only looked at her strangely, so Amanda beckoned for her to come upstairs. Another thump, and then footsteps sounded in the other room.

Polly drew her wand swiftly, turning first to face the noise then back toward Amanda as though in question. Amanda nodded, and took a step down.

She froze when she realized that Polly now had her wand pointed directly at her. For a moment she only stared at her stupidly, unsure. The other woman drew back her arm quite suddenly and cast a silent spell. Amazingly, Amanda managed to get her own arm up soon enough to deflect it. She felt it graze against her harmlessly. Polly ducked to avoid it's ricochet, seemingly surprised. She had not known that Amanda's wand could do more than a few dusting charms.

For the briefest moment, they regarded each other, then Polly sent another hex. This one Amanda easily avoided, and reciprocated with a freezing charm. Polly sidestepped it lightly. Amanda choked down the bitter taste of helpless panic. Eloise's lessons had not prepared her for how frightening it was to be faced by a real enemy, and her confusion at being attacked by someone so familiar only slowed her reflexes. She should have attacked, but all she could think to do was to defend herself, hoping that someone would arrive soon.

Polly was not about to allow for that chance, and loudly cast a third hex, aiming slightly to Amanda's left. When Amanda half-turned, half swayed while deflecting it, Polly dropped gracefully to one knee.

" You just don't learn." she said softly, before murmuring a simple tripping charm, at the same time that Amanda sent a stunning spell.

In a few scary seconds their battle was ended.

The impact of the tripping spell hit Amanda in the knees, and thy buckled immediately. She had been leaning slightly forward to cast the stun, and the combination of the awkward angle and severity of the blow caused her to stumble.

For one horrifying moment, she teetered on the edge of the steps, unable to reach the railing, then pitched forward, as her knees turned to liquid. One part of her mind screamed that it was only a nightmare, that she should wake up and escape, but the moment she felt her body collide with the hard edge of the top step, she knew that this was no dream.

She clawed and fought the entire way down, trying desperately to seize hold of anything that would support her . She felt her fingernails being ripped out by the runner, and the repeated bruising's as her body struck against the steps. It seemed like an eternity of falling; a nightmarish quilt of risers and balusters passing before her eyes, just out of reach.

Her teeth bit into her tongue as she rolled out onto the floor, her head striking the newel post with such force that it caused a premature ringing from the grandfather-clock.

An enormous black field began to encroach across her field of vision. Briefly, she saw a blurred figure standing over her with hand raised.

" Pol-ly?" she croaked, trying to think. Trying to remember what had caused he to fall. She couldn't...she hurt too much, and she was so sleepy. So dizzy. I need some of that potion...I something...she managed to say to herself, before complete and merciful darkness overtook her.

-

* * *

Enjoy the Silence-Depeche Mode 


	32. Chapter 32 Resume

**Joy and Sorrow**

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.--_**Kahil Gibran**_

* * *

--Resume--

When Eloise at last managed to disentangle herself from Edward's Floo, and it's intricate wards, subsequently overturning a brass statue of Venus, she paused to listen, and 'feel' the air. Being only one of four persons designated to use the Floo, and one the people responsible for some of the inner wards, she too could feel that something within the house was not quite right.

The wards had been tampered with! A chill ran up her spine. Who in this world was powerful enough to unlock wards that she and Edward had set? She took up her robe hem and began trying to negotiate the room.She had never been in the study before. It was heavily curtained, decorated in dark colors, and had massive furniture, all of which seemed to possess out-curving legs and arms. She cursed to herself as she tripped over the claw-foot desk leg.

Pausing, to see if that noise had brought any response, she prayed that Amanda would have the sense not to barge in and investigate herself. She heard then the sound of the front door being opened. Hurrying to the study door, she opened it and continued into the Library. She was almost to the door leading into the parlor when she heard Stella come through the Floo behind her.

She beckoned her urgently,and Stella was somewhat less than stealthy as _she_ hurried through the dimly lit room.

" Did you...?" Eloise mouthed.

Stella nodded, understanding the vague question.

" He can't use the Ministry's Floo." she mouthed back, and shrugged at Eloise's look of disbelief.

" Where would Amanda be?" she whispered.

Stella considered a moment, closing her eyes as thought feeling for her daughter's aura.

" Upstairs."

" Edward?"

" Winter went."

The all too familiar sound of a hex being cast reverberated throughout the house, followed by Amanda voicing a deflection spell. They hurried, tripping over the unfamiliar furnishings. Stella, in her eagerness to get through to her daughter, stepped on Eloise's hem, and delayed them as they both tripped.

The next sound was the horrible sound of something rolling down the stairs over their heads. They both leapt to their feet and forgetting stealth, rushed out through the parlor, and into the foyer. Eloise, older, and more honed, quickly assessed the situation.

Amanda, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, her dress torn and pulled over her knees, both of which were carpet burned and bleeding. One leg was tucked beneath her crookedly, the other was resting on the third step. Her forehead was against the newel post, a trickle of blood coming oozing from the corner of her mouth. Another puddle of blood was forming under her hair, and the hand that they could see, the one thrown outwards and twisted, showed the ragged bloody places where her fingernails had been.

Over her, Polly..._POLLY_, stood, pointing with wand in hand and a blank, stunned expression across her lax, colorless face.

Stunning spell. Eloise recognized it as one that Amanda had struck her with during their dueling practices. It was a temporary charm, and before she had time to fully take note of it, Polly had already begun shaking it off. She opened her mouth, but Eloise was faster.

" Accio wand" she demanded. Stella had shot around her and skidded across the floor on her knees to Amanda's side.

" Don't touch her!" Eloise barked. " We don't know how badly she is hurt."

Polly made to bolt for the front door, but it was futile. Eloise blasted her with in the back, causing the other woman to fall flat on her stomach and skid to across the polished floor. She snapped a binding charm on her and reinforced it with a petrifying charm.

" Hope it hurt!" she declared.

As soon as Giles found an accessible Floo, he could take care of _her_. Polly! Why Polly? she wanted to ask. But more important was helping Amanda.

She rushed to her niece's side, and knelt as well, carefully lifting the that looked to be the least injured. She might be broken and bruised, but Amanda's pulse was still strong.

" Here, Stella...stop that sobbing, she needs for _you_ to be clear-headed. Take her hand, gently. She is still alive. "

" Oh, my baby..." Stella moaned. " We were right here...we could have stopped her if I hadn't tripped us! It's my fault!"

" No. That's foolishness. It's _Polly's_ doing. Now just hold her. There. I...can't risk any spells, not even to stop the bleeding. I just don't know how badly she is injured. "

They shared a significant look over the unconscious girl's head.

" Sing to her...hum, anything. She most likely can't hear you, but if she can, it might comfort her. I am going to Floo the hospital."

Stella nodded, and began as best she could, to sing. It was easier to hum though, so she lay down on her side, stroking the hair above Amanda's ear, and humming softly. Her elbow was resting in the sticky puddle of blood, the coppery smell flooded her senses and made her want to gag. She watched closely the halting pattern of Amanda's breathing, afraid that if she looked away, or even blinked, it might cease and Amanda would be lost.

Eloise returned in a moment, and nodded to he that everything was taken care of. Then not knowing what else to do, she knelt again and gently pulled the hem of Amanda's skirt down for modesties sake, knowing she would not want anyone, not even them, to see her in that state.

She too tried to hum, but her voice was cracked with rage and anxiety. Stella's with tears she didn't dare shed. They waited.

It took Winter a long time to find Edward. He and one of the Hogwarts' professors, an elderly woman with a pipe clutched tightly in her teeth, had walked a great way back into the Forbidden Forest that surrounded the school. Since Winter could not Apparate into the actual grounds, she had to do quite a bit of running, only to find that Edward was nowhere to be found. The rest of the school was empty-- deserted for the summer holiday.

Winter didn't dare go into the Forest by herself. It had been many years since she had been on the school grounds, and then it had not been as a student. She had never been in the forest and suspected it to be quite large and the rumors about it being treacherous to be true. Why else would it be forbidden?

She thought to call out, but decided that would not be welcome. She had no idea what was occurring with the others. They had received a note from Amanda saying that she felt that something was wrong in the house, and wanted one of them to come spend the day with her. Winter brushed it off as being mostly jitters. Being pregnant did strange things to a lady, perhaps she was just bored and seeking some company.

However Eloise _had_ been adamant that she find Edward, just in case.. Luckily Amanda had explained why she was alone on a Sunday, and where he had gone.

She had just enough time to catch her breath from her run, when she heard voices. Peering into the dimness of the trees, she could just make out the two figures.

Edward, quite keenly, caught sight of her before she had time to call out, and from his expression, she knew she would not have to beg him to lend an ear. Before she could even begin to explain, he had clutched her arms and shaken her slightly, demanding to know what was the matter

She had barely finished explaining the note, before he was running toward the gates, leaving her behind. With a sigh, Winter hiked up the hem of her robes, and followed, leaving the bewildered professor holding the sack of unclaimed unicorn hair.

Edward ran through the gate and Disapparated without slowing down. Winter had to stop first, and take a quick breath before she Apparated right to the front stoop of Edward's house, only just managing to avoid toppling into him as he blasted open the front door. There was brief stand-off of wands, as he startled the people huddled within. As soon as each party had recognized the other, the wands were lowered.

By that time, Amanda had already been transported to St. Mungo's, Stella at her side. Edward did not even know that she was injured.

He saw only Eloise, Giles Barkwater, two men he did not know, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Polly, who was slumped in a chair, mouth open, and eyes glazed.

" Oh, Edward!" Eloise stated...and he saw from her expression that she was terrified. What could possibly terrify _Eloise Rookwood?_ The very idea made his blood run cold.

" What is going on here?" he demanded softly.

" There was an attack." blurted one of the men that he did not know.

Edward ignored him, and remained focused on Eloise, who nodded slightly.

" Polly..." she began, wringing her hands; an uncharacteristic gesture.

" Polly? Did someone _attack _Polly? Where is Amanda?"

" No...I mean, Polly attacked _Amanda_. We don't know why, she hasn't come around--"

" That is because you used un-necessary spells to detain her!" the other stranger snapped.

" I didn't use _half_ of the ones I thought she _deserved_!" Eloise shouted, taking a lunging step toward the man. He stumbled backwards in surprise.

Edward caught her arm, and turned her toward him.

" Explain what happened..."

She told as much as she knew, for his benefit as well as Winter's. Winter stood with pale face, her knuckles clutched between her teeth.

" Amanda is at St. Mungo's." Eloise concluded. " Stella is with her, but they wouldn't let _me_ go. I have to be questioned..." she seemed for a moment weak and forlorn. " I am so sorry, Edward...I just did not arrive in time."

* * *


	33. Chapter 33 St Mungo's

He knelt beside her pillow, in the dead watch of the night,

And he heard her gentle breathing, but her face was still and white,

And on her poor, wan cheek a tear told how the heart can weep,

And he said, "My love was weary--God bless her! she's asleep."

--Asleep, by William Winter

* * *

--St. Mungos--

The staff at the hospital were much more subdued and respectful this time. Since Amanda's injuries had nothing to with herbs of any sort, she was sent to a different floor, and had a different healer. This one was a very dainty woman, of perhaps Eloise's age, who was in possession of a light touch and a soothing, sympathetic voice. he name was Healer Penny.

Stella was however the only one there to hear it. Amanda was still quite unconscious, and Stella couldn't help but think that might be for the best.

A hasty set of spells performed by the new healer highlighted the injuries with green light. She then pointed her wand at each glowing area, and directed it toward the wall. This created a detailed graph, in an unreadable shorthand. Penny read over the chart, and began scribbling notes down on a clipboard.

As she worked, she spoke to Stella, telling her what she had discovered. Amanda's left leg was broken once above her knee, her right arm

twice between the elbow and wrist. Healer Penny suspected that it had become wedged between two of the stair spindles. Several bones in the right hand itself were also broken, including three fingers. The right shoulder had been severely dislocated.

These were the most minor of the injuries. More seriously, she had three broken ribs, two fractured ribs, and some lung damage. Her body was covered with contusions and abrasions, there had been stress on her spinal cord, and the impact with the newel post had lacerated her scalp, concussed her, and most likely fractured her skull. But the worst news of all was that there had been no way to prevent a miscarriage.

They had tried to stabilize her as soon as she was brought in, but so early into the pregnancy, it was nearly impossible. The stress and pain alone would have been enough to trigger it, and after examining the severe bruising along her abdomen...it was very clear that she had struck most of the steps stomach first. It wasn't the only internal bleeding she was suffering.

Stella quickly explained Amanda's recent medical history as best she could with her hoarse shaky voice. Healer Penny assured her she would do all that she could to ensure that she could still conceive after healing, and that with magical medicine, the damage could be minimized drastically.

With so many injuries,and of such a severe nature, it would take a team of four healers, two of whom were also trained as Muggle physicians.Healer Penny was one of these specialized Witches. They would begin with the important, life-threatening injuries, such as repairing the skull, and healing the brain. Then they had to stop the internal abdominal bleeding, repair the ribs, and heal the lung. After that, they would heal the minor wounds.

Just before they began, Edward finally arrived, and they were kind enough to allow him to see Amanda briefly before they began the healing session.

He rushed in, only to halt, shocked at the sight of his wife. She floated in a stabilizing charm, so broken and battered it was difficult for him to even _recognize_ her. The healer's might see the broken bones...but he could only see the swollen bruised face, the blacked eyes, the bloody finger tips.

The ticking of a clock somewhere reminded him that he only had a few moments before they made him leave. Only a few seconds. What could he do in short of a time? What could he say? All he could do was stand and stare at her.

Perhaps the most shocking thing was her hair. Draped over the edge of the table, it hung nearly to the floor, and was matted, and stiff, the entire length saturated with blood. Dried blood was tangled in the ends, fresher blood trickled over the tangles and puddled on the floor. He realized that the steady ticking he had mistaken for a clock was the steady drip of blood onto the green tile.

Edward took a step toward her, and after a few seconds of contemplation, he touched her hand left hand, which was crossed across her chest. It seemed to be the least injured place on her body, but he still winced seeing the small bruises and torn nails. Usually so warm and soft, her hand was now cold and lifeless under his touch, and he pulled away as three healers entered the room behind him.

One of them assured him that scalp wounds always bled profusely, and not to be too alarmed by the sight of the blood. He was not comforted.

" You have to leave now." a fourth healer said. She was petite, and spoke in a calm soft voice as she pulled on her surgical robes.

A sudden fear seized him, and without thinking he blurted out;

" Will I see her again?"

The petite woman smiled gently, and escorted him to the door.

" You have my promise." she said earnestly, meeting his eye.

Behind him, he heard one of the younger Healers saying that it would be much easier to cut Amanda's hair off than to try to clean and work around it.

He opened his mouth to argue with this, but found himself suddenly in the corridor, facing a pallid Stella, who only looked pitifully at him. Without warning, he was accosted by none other than Healer Withersmith.

Withersmith, pudgier than he had been at their last meeting, came almost nose to nose with him, and began shaking his finger violently. The mans pouty lips opened and closed once or twice, as if he were searching for the exact words to use.

Before he could discover exactly what he wanted to say, a blessing in the form of Healer Thoroughgood arrived, in the company of Eloise, and followed closely by Giles Barkwater. There was a quick scuffle as Withersmith tried to stop Thoroughgood from entering the room.

Thoroughgood merely looked disdainfully at Withersmith.

" He is expected." Healer Penny said, with an equally disdainful look. " What call do you have to interfere?"

In his defense, Withersmith allowed slip a very unprofessional accusation against Edward, having apparently in the time since Amanda's last visit, shifted his target of blame. This caused an outburst of indignation from from everyone except Edward, who remained tight lipped and stony-faced, looking every inch a man who _did_ blame himself.

Eloise and Stella had fortunately both been witnesses, and Winter was kind enough to lend her opinion as well. It was Giles who ended the argument, in the capacity of Ministry Auror, by informing Withersmith, and Thoroughgood too, if he cared to listen, that the maid had caused the accident, and was now under arrest and slated for an interrogation. Withersmith began to argue, summoning the records of Amanda's last visit, but one of the four, a man named Marvel, ordered him from the corridor.

That done, Giles insisted that Edward and Winter, who was Polly's previous employer, accompany him back to the ministry. Edward agreed, and after a long compunctious look at the door, he started to follow Giles. He turned back quite suddenly though, and addressed Stella.

"Please, don't...allow them to cut her hair."

She nodded her promise as he was led away by Giles.

* * *


	34. Chapter 34 The Long Wait

_ I wonder if the stars sign  
the life that is to be mine  
and would they let their light shine  
enough for me to follow  
I look up to the heavens  
but night has clouded over  
no spark of constellation  
no Vela no Orion--_

* * *

--The Long Wait--

The interrogation was to be divided into two sessions. During the first, Polly would be merely asked questions, and given the chance to answer them correctly and honestly. In the second session, a truth serum would be added, and she would be again asked the same questions.

During this time her wand was to be tested, to evaluate the history of spells that had been used. Edward had performed this duty a thousand times over the years, being fully qualified, and licensed to weigh and test wands. However, in this instance he was not allowed, and the Ministry had brought in another wandmaker. This man was Polish. A very handsome, regal man, with strong, skilled hands.

He had not been told anything about the wand or it's owner, to prevent any possibility of personal opinion influencing the test. There was no need to worry about that, he was by nature an honest man, of not a humble man. His name was Tadeusz, and after a thorough test, he announced that he_ last _charm had been a sort of numbing spell.

A children's jinx used mostly for fun. If it struck the ankles or knees it numbed the area completely, and pulled forward, causing the victim to trip as though their bootlaces had been tied together. To the side, he noted that in Poland this particular little charm had been outlawed, due to the risk of a numb leg or ankle being broken in the fall.

He then proceeded to name the previous curses she had used to attack Amanda, and the variety of spells she had used prior to the attack, most of which were simply mundane household spells. The Crucio had been the first spell fired, the second had been a very nasty and rare spell. _Intralios,_ designed to cause the entrails to explode. Hearing this, Edward clenched a fist, in angry relief. If Amanda had not deflected that one, she would have died instantaneously.

Everyone began talking at once, until Giles silenced them. He was about to thank and excuse the wand-tester, when a mediwitch who had been patiently waiting outside the door, coughed politely and let them know that Polly had recovered, and could now be questioned.

" Well, what did they learn?" Eloise demanded, and soon as she saw Winter again.

She had been thoroughly irritated that Winter had been invited by Giles, when she herself had been the one who had been there. However, Winter brought her a message saying that her presence was required at the second interrogation, which would occur that evening.

" Nothing..." Winter said sadly. " All she said was that she did not recall anything that had happened since she left her for her mother's."

" Oh! What a blatant _lie_!" Eloise shouted. " She can't recall anything indeed! They don't believe that do they? That's what anyone would say. _I don't remember_! " she stormed up and down the corridor, her voice rising to an uncomfortable screech as she mimicked Polly's voice.

Stella sniffed,and Winter sighed.

" I don't understand." she lamented for perhaps the fortieth time. " Why would she _do_ such a thing? Why would _Polly_ do something like that? Why?"

" We don't know, Winter." Eloise sighed, and glanced down at her silver wristwatch. " But she can't hold onto her secrets for much longer...they should be administering the truth serum in a half hour."

" And what the devil is taking them so long in here? Is it too much to ask they simply give us a word or two?" Eloise thumped her fist on the door in irritation. It was true, not a single person had emerged from Amanda's room in the six hours since the door had been closed, warded, and silenced.

" I despise this hallway." Stella stated.

They all leapt to their feet as the wards on the door were suddenly lowered. After a pause, the door swung open to allow Healer Penny to pass into the corridor. She gave them a grim but satisfied nod. Marvel and Thoroughgood also emerged.

The fourth healer, a Muggle born with the unfortunate name of Gribble, came out last. Gribble and Marvel left immediately, without a word to the waiting women. They were met at the corridor's end by Withersmith, who turned on his heel and marched the opposite way. Thoroughgood shot Withersmith's back a look of acid disapproval, before addressing Stella.

" She is going to be just fine."

" Is she awake?" Stella asked hopefully.

" Not yet." Penny shook her head. " The bump to the head was fairly serious, but we repaired it without any trouble. And you can inform her husband that we didn't cut a single strand of her hair. "

" What about the...baby?" Eloise asked, hoping that perhaps, for some miracle.

Both Healers shook their heads solemnly.

" I know it won't seem much comfort to her when she wakes, nor to any of you at the moment, " Penny said softly,"but we've done our very best to heal her completely. She _should_ be perfectly capable of having many children in the future if she wishes."

" So long as she exercises caution, of course. I myself have the feeling she may be slightly weaker due to the effects of first the poison, and then the physical trauma. It may take quite some time. However, she is still very young, very healthy, and in my opinion, relatively happy. " Thoroughgood said.

Penny nodded in agreement.

" But then, her mental health will need monitoring. I can't be too sure of how much she will remember of the actual fall, but once she learns of all that occurred, she is most likely going to be very upset."

" Of course she will be! I am upset too." Eloise said, with more patience than she had granted anyone else." As are her mother and grandmother, and no doubt her husband. This is not going to be simple for any of us."

" No..." Penny agreed. " It won't. Now, she is still under a heavy sedation spell. You may all visit her, but _please_ be quiet and refrain from touching her. When she wakes up, she is going to be in quite a bit of pain. She may no longer be broken, but her body will remember for some time. Just contact someone if I haven't returned by that time."

Thoroughgood gave them a few more warnings, and left in the opposite direction that Withersmith had taken. Stella, Eloise, and Winter crept into the room with Amanda.

It was lit only with a small gas sconce, just enough to allow for visibility while retaining a restful atmosphere. It made Eloise feel sleepy as soon as she entered, but in it's light, Amanda looked slightly better. They had not bothered to heal the extraneous bruises and cuts, focusing instead on the repair of her bones and organs. It amazed Eloise that something so harmless and inanimate as a stairwell could do so much damage. There were even carpet burns on Amanda's arms!

Winter, the only of the three who had not yet seen the girl, gave a shocked gasp, and covered her mouth in mortification.

" Oh! My goodness!" she exclaimed.

" Shhh" Eloise poked her.

Amanda lay perfectly still, her hands at her side. There was only a faint indication of her breathing, just visible by straining to watch the covers rise and fall. Someone, perhaps Healer Penny, had not only cleaned the blood from Amanda's hair, but had brushed it out and braided it in a thick queue that lay on her shoulder.

Two assistants, who were clearing things away, nodded politely at the older women as they passed them on their way out of the door.

A very soft song began playing from within the muffled confines of Eloise's robes. She hurriedly took out a small magical device, silver with a little key on top, which she twisted. The music was silenced.

" It is time for the second interrogation to begin." Eloise stated. " I must go. You stay here Winter, with her." she indicated Stella." I'll inform Edward of her condition."

Just as she reached for the door handle, it turned, and she came face to face with a very startled Agnes.

" Oh! Aunt Eloise. You really_ frightened_ me!" the woman exclaimed.

" You did me no good either. What brings you so far from Exeter?"

" I heard about the accident. Gods! Is that _her_? She looks _horrible_!" she made a face of revulsion.

Eloise pushed her into the hall, stepped out after her and closed the door.

" Kindly keep some opinions to yourself, Agnes. "

" My apologies, of course. Just a slight shock. How...er, is she?"

" As well as can be expected. Mostly broken bones and a concussion."

" Pity. Have you seen Demogene today? I have a robe that is too...frumpy for me, just the kind she would wear however. I thought I would give it to her."

" She was brewing some hair tonic in the kitchen when I left her."

" She must be hiding from me...she's still angry at me."

" For what?" Eloise asked without interest, trying to step around her niece.

" For marrying Adelfried so suddenly. I think she's jealous."

And I think you only wanted to stir up some trouble. Eloise thought to herself. She offered a wan smile.

Agnes seemed to be musing on something. She wore a tiny frown between her neatly groomed brows, but the corner of her mouth seemed to be turned upwards, just the slightest bit.

" What is the Ministry going to do with her?" she asked, in a voice laced with faux innocence.

" Who?"

" Amanda."

"Why, they aren't going to do anything with _her_, she didn't hex herself."

" She didn't meet the _contract_ though." Agnes' eyes almost sparkled as she shook her head." The poor thing. Trouble just seems to follow her, doesn't it?"

Eloise narrowed her eyes, but Agnes ignored her.

" I'll have to ask Adelfried about it. He has inside connections, you know. His sister is an important member of the Ministry, and-"

" Dolores Umbridge is nothing by but a frilled up, glorified clerk." Eloise snapped.

" Well I don't know her _personally_," Agnes said, soothingly," but Adelfried speaks very highly of her . Don't let him hear you say anything like that."

" Have no fear. I won't let him her me say anything at _all_."

" _Anyhow_, she owled him just a week ago and mentioned how difficult it had been getting the Muggleborns to cooperate. They are banishing them in by the scores, hundreds."

" Don't over-dramatize, Agnes. There was never more than two scores to begin with. I saw the list."

" The point is that they are refusing to meet their _obligations_, if you know what I mean. Adelfried said that they are pushing for some new laws that will punish them more harshly if they fail." she gave an almost wistful glance toward the door." But that is a long time in the making."

" Well, it is nice to see that everyone is involved in their constructive little exploits. What about yourself? I don't see that you have been fulfilling anything either."

Agnes growing suddenly agitated and flushed, lowered her eyes.

" That isn't my _fault_." she stated glumly. For the briefest moment, Eloise saw the shadow of Agnes as a young girl, right after Wilemina was killed. She looked as though she desperately wanted to confide something to her aunt, but recovered her composure at the last.

" Well, I must be going." she said, with a little shake of her head." Adelfried will be furious if I'm not there to help make copies of the new pamphlets. By the way, here are a few newsletters for you and Aunt Winter. There are several, please be sure to hand them out to everyone. Here, do take one for Amanda too. She looks like she will have plenty of time to read. "

Eloise snatched the papers from Agnes' hand. She might have slapped her just then, if her time device had not once more begun singing, this time at a more urgent pace. Carefully knocking into Agnes, she hurried off down the hall.

* * *

Anywhere Is-Lyrics, Enya 


	35. Chapter 35 Who

She says days go by I'm hypnotized  
I'm walking on a wire  
I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
Into the fire--

* * *

--Who?--

Eloise arrived at the ministry late, and received a stern look from the men in charge. She was, thankfully, early enough to spare a moment for Edward, who was practically shaking her for information about Amanda. She hurriedly related everything to him, excluding Agnes's surprise visit, of course, while Polly was being forcefed the veritaserum.

He sat weakly on the bench outside the interrogation room, his face in his hands for some time.

" I _believed_ him." he stated shakily.

" Whom did you beleive?" she asked gently.

" That other healer. _Witherwhatever_. He...he told me the first time that she had done it to herself. And I _believed_ him. "

" Why?" she asked incredulously, dropping to the seat beside him.

" Because I am _old_. And _because_ she was forced into the marriage. And because I could not find it in me to believe _otherwise_! " he shouted, striking his fist hard agaisnt the wood. The sound rang out through the empty corridor.

" She had very high levels of toxic herbs and pharmaceutical in her blood, they said. _Much_ more than she would have taken casually. He said that it happened all the time. And I thought what a fool I must have been not to have suspected that possibility. But she just didn't _seem_ unhappy... I always knew when Dinah was unhappy."

" Edward...Dinah was _always _unhappy. " Eloise said gently.

He snorted.

" Therefore, I did not beleive that another woman could be any better. Woman. She isn't a woman, she is just a girl. One that has seen too much sorrow, in too short a time."

" Do you still believe that she was responsible?"

" I...I don't know. I want to beleive she is innocent."

" Why didn't you take measures to find out?"

He looked hard at the floor.

" I couldn't." he said simply.

" But you want to know? To be sure."

" Yes..."

" Then ask the Inquisitor to question Polly about that as well. If it is true, and Amanda had been given the herbs...and _I_ don't beleive that she would have taken them willingly, then it is not perposterous to suspect that Polly might have had a hand in that as well."

" But why?"

" Who knows why people do the things that they do? It's our nature as humans. We are evil, greedy, and cruel. We hurt the ones we love, get intoxicated, and do stupid things to endanger our lives. And sometimes we are insane, jealous, manipulative, scheming, and...just plain _bad_. "

" We are about to begin." a woman in a dark blue robe and tie informed them. " The Veritaserum has been successfully administered. She gave us quite a fight, but she--"

A shrill shriek sounded from within the room, and a several voices began shouting simultaneously. A crash sounded, and the scuffling and tramping of many feet followed.

" What the _Devil_?"

" Who the _hell_?"

" Who did _that_?"

" Rawley, did you--?"

" What is going on here?"

" Don't let her get away! "

" Impedimentia!"

"Incarcerous!"

A soft thump sounded from within.

" Incarcerous?" someone asked, laughing. " I would have thought you could do better than that!"

" Crucio springs to mind..."

" What happened?"

Eloise and Edward exchanged looks. Curiosity was the perfect cure for his fit of self-loathing, and they both crowded close to the door to see what was happening. All Eloise could see was a pair of shoes sticking out un-couthly from behind a chair.

" What happened? " she asked a Wizard who was shouldering out.

" Something. Excuse me, I need to get through.Please move."

At last the woman in the blue robe, who had slipped into the room at the beginning of the commotion, gestured to Eloise and Edward.

" It was a polyjuice effect! This is a different person entirely! We'll need one of you to try and identify her!" the woman excitedly pushed up her trim little spectacles. " This is _incredible_. In all the years that I have worked here, no one has ever been powerful enough to maintain a polyjuice image that long, and escape detection!"

" Perhaps you are getting shabby with your security, Merle." said a short toady woman in ashocking pink sweater. She had appeared quite suddenly behind Edward, and coughed for him to excuse her.

" Dolores...I don't believe you have any authority in this department!" Giles roared.

" Tsk.Tsk. I am the Minister's right hand woman. It is my duty to be involved. Isn't this the interogation of the servant accused of killing one of our Muggle Breeders?"

" She is not dead. Nor is she a _breeeder_. She is my neice." Eloise stated, holding out an arm instinctively to hold Edward.

" Ms. Rookwood. Why, I had no idea it was your niece! Well, that makes this more importnat, doesn't it?"

" Does it?" Eloise lilted in imitation.

" Of _course_...since we are practically family, and you are very well respected by the new minister. I will see that this case gets top priority!" she simpered.

Edward elbowed past her a bit rudely, and Eloise followed in his wake.

" Stand her up, there. Oh, she is coming around already! I swear Peterson, don't you have any juice left in you at all?" a brightly dressed auror was supervising another, thinner auror, who was struggling to lift the lifeless form. The first auror finally used a levitation charm to raise her to waist level.

" Let's see her face!" Merle commanded. The thinner auror took hold of the womans hair.

Both Edward and Eloise gasped as the men lifted the unconcious woman's head, Eloise's knuckles flying to her teeth as she found herself staring not into Polly's warm brown eyes...

Not into Polly's eyes at all.

It was _Demogene!_

* * *

_Sunny Came Home--Shawn Colvin _


	36. Chapter 36 Questions

_All of her days have gone soft and cloudy, all of her dreams have gone dry.  
All of her nights have gone sad and shady, She's getting ready to fly.  
Fly away, fly away, fly away._

_  
Life in the city can make you crazy for sounds of the sand and the sea.  
Life in a high-rise can make you hungry for things that you can't even see.  
Fly away, fly away, fly away._

_In this whole world there's nobody as lonely as she,  
there's nowhere to go and there's nowhere that she'd rather be.  
She's looking for lovers and children playing, she's looking for signs of the spring.  
She listens for laughter and sounds of dancing, she listens for any old thing.  
Fly away, fly away, fly away ._

* * *

--Interrogation--

" Demogene! Demogene _Rookwood_?"

" Yes." the woman slurred. A thin line of saliva trickled from the corner of her mouth.

" We gave her the proper dosage of Veritaserum, but in combination with that superb Polyjuice potion, it might have been a bit strong." a man apologized to Merle.

" Demogene, did you attack Amanda Ollivander this morning?"

" Yes." she answered after a pause.

" Disguised as Polly Rafferty?"

" Yes."

" Why?"

" Because I knew she would be alone. Her husband was buying wand supplies, and Polly...would be gone. " Demogene giggled.

From her seat, Eloise winced at the laugh. She was still quite stunned. After Demogene had been identified, Eloise had experienced a brief moment of hysterical disbelief. Something was wrong...she tried to tell them. It couldn't be _Demogene,_ there simply must be a _mistake_. Demogene could not perfect a simple sticking charm; she was weak and harmless. Couldn't they _see_ that? Merle, the Inquisitor, had finally seated her, and ordered a cup of tea to help calm her. Now, Eloise sat, empty cup in one hand, her quivering cigarette holder in the other.

" Why did you attack Amanda?" Merle persisted.

" Because she was to be _alone_! I've said that!" Demogene tried to sit forward, frowning at the others.

" Where is Polly?" Merle tried instead.

" _I_ don't know." Demogene answered.

" You have to have _some_ idea. What did you use to make the Polyjuice potion? Polly's hair?"

" Yes."

" When did you acquire her hair?"

" The day before Christmas. "

" The day before Christmas. How?"

" I was at Amanda's house, with Aunt Eloise. We brought gifts. I yanked out _several_ of Polly's hair when she passed me going to the kitchen."

" Didn't she notice?"

" Yes. "

" Why didn't she say something? "

" I always pulled her hair. She used to wear a cap when she worked for Aunt Winter, to hide her hair from Agnes and myself. Didn't she Aunt Eloise? I say, didn't she, Aunt Eloise."

Merle shot Eloise a glance, warning her not to answer. Eloise knew that she could not answer, even if she had wanted to.

" I ask again, where is Polly Rafferty?"

" I don't know." Demogene insisted." The ropes hurt...can't I have them loosened? I...I think I am about to faint."

" When was the last time you saw her?"

" Who?"

" Polly Rafferty. When was the last time you saw Polly?"

" This morning, as she was walking to the Disapparation point."

" Did you speak with her?"

" Yes. I asked her if Amanda was alone."

" What did she say?"

" She said yes."

" Then what happened?"

" She seemed nervous, and was going to follow me to the house."

" And then?"

" I hexed her. " Demogene's voice was completely emotionless.

" You hexed her. Did you _kill_ her?"

" I don't think so."

" Did you use an unforgivable curse?" a signal was given to a young page to fetch the wand-tester.

" No. I petrified her. Petrificus Totalus...that is what I used."

" Can you tell us where this happened?"

" Yes."

" Then you can tell us where Polly is?"

" No. "

Why not?"

" Because I pushed her into the _river_. " Demogene smiled. " I don't know how far she has gotten yet! Quite some ways, I imagine."

One of the Aurors sent a message to have the river searched.

" Why did you hex Polly?"

" Because she would have followed me back and ruined everything."

" Did you use your wand to hex Polly?"

" Yes."

" Did you use your wand to hex Amanda?"

Edward shook his head to himself, even as Demogene answered. Maple, thirteen inches, supple. He thought automatically.

" No. I used Polly's."

Fifteen inches, willow, dragon string, whippy...wonderful for charms.

" Where is your wand?"

" Hidden."

" Where?"

" In the one of Amanda's rose bushes."

Another page was dispatched at once.

" Why did you want to attack Amanda ?"

Demogene seemed to be struggling with this. Her face contorted into an ugly mask, and she gnashed her teeth, trying to escape the bonds.

" I repeat, why did you want to attack Amanda?"

" I hate her!" she burst out. " I hate her, and I wanted to kill her! Did she die?"

" Why do you hate her?" Merle ignored the question.

" She was going to have _babies_..." Demogene yelled. " I can't have BABIES. Not ever.Don't you understand that? Ever! And no one wanted to marry _me. _I couldn't even be _sold_ to a Pureblood Wizard! I hate you all!" And...I'll tell you what _she_ did!" Demogene stated. " I'll tell you what _Amanda_ did!"

The Inquisitor looked around as though not quite sure what to think.

" She _stole _my baby."

A static moment of silence, during which the magic thrum of the silencing and restraint spells could be heard, passed without a single breath taken or eye blinked for fear of missing something vitally important.

When Demogene did not seem inclined to explain herself further, Mme. Merle gave a discreet cough, and shuffled the papers before her.

" Tell me about your stolen baby."

" _She stole_ my baby. Agnes told me she was lost. I left her sleeping in the alcove on day, in the sunlight. She had just eaten, and was very fussy. And then...I don't recall what happened, only that Agnes later said she was lost that day. But she wasn't! I found her in Amanda's house, hidden away!"

Eloise's cigarette ash dropped un-heeded on her shoe, as she watched Demogene with open-mouthed shock.

" Oh, Demogene...over a china doll?" she blurted.

Merle took off her glasses, and rubbed her face.

" Was the baby a doll?"

" Yes." again, Demogene struggled against the truth serum, clearly not wanting to admit the truth. The word sounded more like a sob.

" Was it your doll?"

" Yes. Stella gave it to me."

" Who is Stella?"

" My cousin...Amanda's mother. She gave it to me, but they took it back."

" Did you attack Amanda Ollivander just because she stole a doll?"

" She isn't just a doll!" Demogene shouted. " She was my little girl!"

She began writhing in the magical bonds again.

With a glance at Edward, who nodded imperceptibly, Merle began a new series of questions.

" Demogene, did you give your cousin any drugs in November of last year, for the purpose of harming her or her unborn child?"

" Yes." Demogene answered blithely.

Edward closed his eyes.

" How was this done?"

" That was so clever of me! " she drew her elbows tight against her sides, as though hugging herself. " I arranged for a woman selling cakes to sell Amanda a cake laced with certain poisons. She was reluctant at first, but I incorporated a little _persuasion._ She failed me three times, however, so I made Polly give it to her. "

" Made Polly? Did you simply tell her to, or did you use a spell?"

" Told her at first...threatened. She said that she was going to turn me in, so I had to Obliviate her, then use a spell. I placed the mixture in Amanda's breakfast tray and forced Polly to send it up. Then, another simple memory charm to help her forget. Little did I know that the peddler woman was going to be successful too, that day!"

" What do you mean?"

" Amanda bought three cakes from that woman. Three! Can you imagine? Only two were poisoned though. Not that it mattered. She had consumed a full dose that morning."

Eloise and Edward exchanged glances. So...it was no wonder Amanda had nearly died, a triple dose! Eloise thought of how guilty Amanda had felt after they told her she had ingested something harmful. Even if she could have remembered the cakes, even if she had not eaten them, it would not have mattered. The poison had long been working in her system.

" What form was the poison in; pill, powder...liquid?"

" Powder."

" What were the ingredients."

" I don't know the ingredients."

" Didn't you make the powder?"

" No, someone gave it to me."

" Who gave it to you?"

" I don't know. It was sent anonymously, by someone who said they understood how I felt."

" By owl?"

" Yes."

" Did they say this on a note?"

Yes."

" Do you have the note?"

" No, I burned it."

" Someone who understood how you felt. How you felt about what?"

Demogene rolled her head against her shoulder in a sort of half shrug.

" About everything. About babies. About Agnes."

" Who is Agnes?"

" My sister."

" How do you feel about Agnes?"

" I hate her."

" I see. Any specific reason why?"

" Yes. She won't let me do anything anymore. She says that I am crazy."

" Why does she think you are crazy?"

" Because she found out my _secret_. "

" _What_ is your secret?"

" I killed my husband."

" What!" Eloise exclaimed, nearly dropping the tea cup. The Inquisitor gestured to her to be silent.

" You killed your husband. How, and when, did you do that?"

" I don't remember _when_ it was. It was still _cold_. Maybe it was in February. I like the word February...don't you?" she gave a flirtatious smile to one of the Aurors.

" How did you kill your husband?"

" Hem-hem. I don't believe we are investigating the death of her husband; that is irrelevant information." Dolores Umbridge suggested.

" There is no irrelevant information in a murder interrogation! Now, Demogene, answer my question."

" What question?"

" How did you kill your husband? "

" Oh _that_ question!' she giggled. " I weakened the supports on a house he was building. It took it a long time, and I don't know what he did to trigger it, but the entire structure came down...whoosh right on his head. I imagine he had time to see what hit him, though. Don't you think?"

" What was your motive for that particular homicide?"

" Particular what?"

" Murder! Why would you want to murder your husband?"

" Oh. I can't remember very well. Not now. I think it was because he didn't care that I couldn't have children. Yes...that's right." she sniffed, her eyes now awash with tears. She continued in a pitiful tone.

" He said it didn't _matter_, that he_ loved_ me just the same. He said that we could be _happy._ Happy! I ask you...all of you...what kind of person could _say _such a thing?"

* * *

Fly Away-John Denver


	37. Chapter 37 Awakening

_It's quarter to three, there's no one in the place_

_Except you and me_

_So set 'em' up Joe, I got a little story_

_I think you should know_

_We're drinking my friend, to the end_

_Of a brief episode_

_Make it one for my baby_

_And one more for the road--_

* * *

--Awakening--

Polly's body was found that evening, tangled in marshy bed of grass, among oil spills and dirty bits of Muggle garbage. She had not floated far downstream, but she had been face down, and petrified the entire distance, so that there was no chance of her survival. Whether or not that was accidental or intentional on Demogene's part, they did not ask. The charge was murder.

Demogene's wand was recovered as well, hidden, jsut as she said, in Amanda's rose bush. They emptied it completely, and found it to be filled with a wonderful variety of disturbing spells and events. Edward said the instrument was an abomination and should be destroyed.

" It isn't the _wand_ that is the abomination..." Eloise replied. Though she had regained somewhat her composure, she was still quite shaken.

" I'm losing my touch." she said to the others. " One more thing I failed to see..."

" None of us did." Stella said, listlessly.

" It was unforgiveable. I should have suspected. I jsut didn't think it of her...I still cannot beleive it.!"

Winter sniffed.

She had been sniffing consistantly since being informed of Polly's death. Of the three women, she seemed to be suffering the most. Always prone to be being more humane than her elder sister, and more sentimental than her daughter, it was nearly too much for her to experience what she considered to be three great tragedies in the course of two days. Her granddaugthers accident was enough to send her into tears, the death of Polly to send her into near hysterics, and the news about Demogene to stop her crying and leave her shocked beyond words.

She had always taken great pains to be kind to her niece, thinkin gher simple, and meek. As attached to Polly as she was, Winter would have believed her to be a murderer before she would ever have suspected it of Demogene. Seeing her mother's distress, Stella summoned her a very strong cup of coffee, into which one of the junior healers thoughtfully mixed a light dose of a very effective nerve draught. Soon, Winter was leaned on Stella's shoulder, snoring softly, as Stella and Winter speculated softly, and thought deeply.

Amanda woke cold and disoriented. Two mornings had come and gone since the day she had sent Crisp with the urgent note to her mother, but she remembered nothing of that. She was aware only of a great headache, and a strange sense of stiffness, as though every fiber of her body had been painted with a thin coat of glue and allowed to dry.

The room was dark, but she could sense that something was out of place, and instinctively sought out Edwards shoulder with her hand. The bed was empty...and decidedly too narrow. Struggling, she sat, and shook her head lightly to clear away the cottony residue of slumber.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light filled the room, and she cried out as it burned her eyes,and sent shards of pain through her head.

" Oh! Oh, heavens, I am so sorry!" the light dimmed, and a figure rushed to her side.

Mother? She tried to speak aloud, but her throat felt dry and cracked, and she ealized that her tongue was sore. In fact her entire head was sore.

It was indeed Stella, and she sat gingerly on the side of the bed. Amanda felt the cool rim of a glas pressed to her lips, and eagerly took a greedy gulp, only to be disappointed tht it wasn't water. It tasted like spinach juice, with a coppery undertaste. She would have made a face if her skin had not felt so tight.

It was liquid however, and soothed her inflamed throat enough for hr to croak out a single word.

" Water?"

" Water? Yes...of course. Here, just let me get some." Stella was away for only a minute or so, but the wait had felt interminible. Stella would not let her drink as fast as she would have pleased, pulling the glass away long before she was sated.

" Where is Edward?"

" He's here. We..we are all here." Stella answered.

" Is this a dream?" Amanda asked suspiciously.

Stella hesitated to answer. How she wished it had all been a dream!

" No. It's no dream."

" Then why is everyone here? Is this my bedroom?" the pain in head was diminishing, but it was replaced by a soft, foamy sensation that was difficult to think through.

" This is St.Mungo's."

" St...? Why are we--"

Her memory suddenly returned in ghastly clarity, the vision of Polly standing at the foot of the stairs, sending hexes at her! Hysterially, she clutched Stella's sleeve and tried to explain what had happened, even as the older woman attempted to soothe her.

" It was Polly! Mother, do you hear me, it was Polly! I...she came in...I was going...and I sent Crisp--and she tried to hex me--and..."

The door to the room opened.

" Stella? Is everything---Oh, Amanda! You're a wake!" Eloise clasped her hands together under her chin.

" Aunt Eloise! Polly--"

" Sshh...we know all about Polly." Eloise said quickly. " Now just lie back. You don't need to allow yourself to become so agitated."

" But--"

Edward, Stella, and Eloise had all decided that when Amanda awoke, offering her an _abbreviated_ version of the events would be the best course of action. This is exactly what Elosie set about doing, treading carefully as she went. She had to repeat herself many times, as Amanda tried to fathom her words. She had become aware of her body, and the fact that it felt as though it were grinding agaisnt itself with every breath and movement she dared to take. It was difficult to ignore it, and yet, while she was suffering, they were trying to convince her that Polly had been Demogene?

" I don't understand..." she complained after a time. " Why?"

This was also something that they decided to abbreviate. Edward's personal request to Eloise had been that no one else be informed of Demogene's involvement in the death of baby Olivia, until he himself had the chance to explain it to Amanda, and apologise. Eloise had given her word, and not even Stella and Winter knew.

There was one truth however, that they could not abbreviate, not even for her sake.

Fortunately Healer Penny had arrived in time to ply her with a heavy dose of pain potions and spells, before Amanda thought to ask for a mirror. One look at her swollen purple reflection, and she had dropped the mirror to the floor, and began demanding to know what had happened to the baby.

Penny was one of those magical people, too rare in both worlds, who was capable of elegantly balancing sympathy with discretion, kindness with firmness, respect with frankness. In a very few delicately chosen words, she informed Amanda of what had happened, and why...her voice calm, a hand resting in soothing manner on Amanda's shoulder.

The other women were very grateful for her presence at that time, enither of them wanting to breach that awkward, uncomfrtable subject. Amanda, though not blatantly hysterical, was as upset as the potions would allow her to be, and Penny was just on the verge of giving her a very alrge sleeping draught, when Edward, seeing the door open, had rushed in. He had, during this whole time, been with Winter, who had suggested that after nearly three days of fasting, it would not be unwise to eat something.

His first thought upon seeing the lights, the open door, and the hdudle of people gathered around the bed, was that she had died during his absence, and so upset was he at thinking this might have occurred while he was doing something so mundane as eating,that itwas with less finesse than usual that he barged in. He slid to a halt on the polished floor as soon as he saw that Amanda was awake, relief and disbelief simultaneously flooding his haggard features.

It was short lived reunion however, as Penny felt Amanda had experienced enough excitement too soon.All he had time to do was notice her red-rimmed eyes, the lost and hopeless expression as he caressed her shoulder...the only part of her that did not seem to bruised. He murmurred promises to her that everything would be all right before Penny returned ot begin administering the sleeping draught. She did this despite Amanda protesting that she did not wish to sleep again so soon.

" Your body never heals so well as when it sleeps, Amanda. Besides, it is the middle of the night. The world is asleep, everything is soft and quiet. " Penny helped her to drain the vial. " I promise, I'll let you stay awake tomorrow, if you please."

Banished to the hall once more, Edward sat beside Eloise in one of the persistantly uncomfortable chairs, his hands resting on his knees, and a look of deep consternation marring his countenance. She waited patiently, knowing that he was working out his thoughts.

" Has Agnes been told yet?" he asked, at last.

" Why...no. At least not by _me_! Perhaps Winter had the foresight--but then, that horrid Dolores Umbridge was at the interrogation. I 'm sure she shared the news with her brother. Come to think of it though, Agnes was here."

" She was?"

" Yes! I had forgotten until you mentioned it, but she said that she was looking for Demogene.Why do you ask about Agnes?"

Edward frowned.

" Did she, by any chance mention anything that Adelfried Umbridge was involved in?"

Eloise started to say no, then remembered the pamphlets that Agnes had handed to her.

" Yes! I believe she did...here hold this." she stuck out her cigarette holder towards him, and he took it before thinking. Closing his eyes a minute in affectionate irritation, he waited with strained patience as she rummaged violently through her large, woven handbag. There were many clinking noises, and the sound of crackling paper.

" So that is where that shopping list was!" she muttered. " Broken quill...Winter's comb, ha!" with that triumphant noise she pulled out several sheets of cheap paper from the depths of the bag. They were slightly crumpled, and one was smudged with rouge from a broken contianer, but they were readable.

" I was going to burn them." she said.

" Let's not be too hasty..." he said distractedly as he smoothed them out.

" Why this sudden interest?" she asked again as she took back her cigarette.

" It might be nothing, " he said. " But Mr. Umbridge paid an unexpected visit to my shop in December. "

" And?"

" And he gave me a vial of pills."

" He gave you pills. Now, why would he do that?"

" They pills to control Muggle wives, apparently."

Eloise tilted her head.

" Ah_...those_ kind of pills. " she said. " And the result of using them?"

" Nothing too alarming. Memory loss, convulsions."

" Oh, that's lovely!" she said drily. " Pills eh? And what was in these pills?"

" I didn't take them out of the vial to look. I certainly wish now that I had."

" What did you do with them?"

" Burned them. I certainly had no intention of using them!" he huffed.

" I didn't assume you _would_! " she retorted." I thought perhaps you might have stuffed them in a drawer. I've _seen_ your study."

" If they would just let us give _Umbridge _a dose of vertiaserum..." he ignroed the reference to his disorganization.

" You know the Ministry would never allow for such a thing. Not without more evidence_. Dolores_ would never allow it! Besides, if he made such a thing, why would he give it to Demogene? Wouldn't that be handing your weapon into your enemy's hand?"

He rubbed his face, thinking.

" I don't know. " he said, with a wave of dismissal. " Anyone could have given it to her.One of his supporters perhaps. Yes...that might be it. "

" Yes?"

" Well, if you gave it to a vain person, you could call it a beauty potion. So many people are searching for something...why not give to them? If someone wanted...to harm someone else, it's more logical to have someone do it for you.Use an Imperio, tell them what they want to hear. Convince them it's what they want to do."

" Maybe. I don't know. " she shrugged. " Why wouldn't they just give the pills to the Puebloods to use."

" They tried." he said, grimly, thinking of the vial. " How many?"

" How many what?"

" How many...of the women have suffered?"

Eloise sat back, patting absentmindedly at her hair.

" I'm not sure. But I could easily find out. "

" How?"

" I do have a few acquaintances too, you know. And I have been around longer than Adelfried Umbridge. Surely someone has heard a thing or two...perhaps Charles Bumpp?"

" Bumpp? He was one of those on the marriage list!"

" Of course he was, a rather reluctant participant, if I recall correctly. "she batted her eyes. " And there is Gladys Whetstone...she knows everyone. And Geoffrey Inkerbach."

Edward looked up in surprise.

" Geoffrey Inkerbach...? The author?"

" Yes, of course. "

" You don't _really_ know Geoffrey Inkerbach?"

" Edward...I have an autographed copy of " The Black Market Strangler". "

He shook his head.

" I didn't like that book. I think ' Elsewhere' was the one."

" 'Elsewhere'! Are you serious? It lacked entirely a plausible plotline-"

" It did not! The last-...why are we discussing this now? " he glared at her.

" Don't look at me! I was just trying to put my social status to a good purpose."

" Do that. But first...begin by seeing if Agnes might not know anything. She seems to be the next plausible person."

" What are _you_ going to do?"

" I am going ask Giles if he knows what Martin Ashwell is doing these days."

* * *

One For My Baby--Frank Sinatra


	38. Chapter 38 Edward

_**We said we'd walk together baby come what may**_

_**That come the twilight should we lose our way**_

_**If as we're walkin a hand should slip free**_

_**I'll wait for you**_

_**And should I fall behind**_

_**Wait for me--**_

* * *

--Edward--

He had not been home at all in the last four days, and he was a bit shocked by the damage he found on the stariwell. Several of the balusters had been broken, the plaster and wood in the walls had been blasted; the sparks leaving scorch marks in the carpet. Bits of wood and plaster dusted the stairs.

Worst of all he could see, even in the dim light, the bloodstain by the newel post, where Amanda had struck her head. Several crimson droplets peppered the wood, bloody fingerprints where she had clutched at the passing posts. Drawing closer, he discovered several of Amanda's long, strawberry hairs caught in the splintery wood.

He gently freed them, and absentmindedly combed them smooth before wrapping them around his finger. Taking out his wand he began cleaning the stairs. He repaired the holes, cleaned away the debris, and replaced the balusters. He manually shook the railing to be sure it was sturdy, before cleaning and re-polishing the wood. He was satisfied only when there was no trace of the attack.

He was about to walk on into his study, when a thought occurred to him. Taking out his wand once more, he began ascending the staircase. Out of precaution, he nudged open the door to their bedroom. It was just as it had been when he left it last, save that Amanda was not asleep in the unmade bed. He looked into the second bedroom, and all the other rooms, saving one in particular for last.

The nursery.

He stood a moment, regarding the wooden door, reaching out and trying the knob. Just as he suspected, it opened easily under his touch. He knew for a fact that Amanda had kept this room locked. He knew that she kept the key in the box on her bureau. Would Polly have known that?

He stepped inside, and illuminated his wand. The light reflected off the stars, and the glass eyes of the dolls and bears. Frowning, he sent a charm at them, and they all closed their eyes simultaneously. In his opinion, there was nothing so disturbing as an empty room filled with dolls.

_Almost_ filled with dolls, he noted. There was one that was missing. But in it's place, was the answer to a question that had been bothering him for over six months. In the toy rocking chair, it's ruffled petticoats spread delicately, sat the pink bear. The one Amanda had received anonymously for Christmas, and he had hidden behind the cushion.

When Amanda had been dressing to go to Eloise's that night, he had searched for the abominable thing, but it was already gone. He thought Amanda must have taken it back out, and had searched everywhere for it, intending to burn it. Picking it up now, he saw that a new note was pinned to the bear's pinafore.

" Mudblood Thief." was all it read.

" No time like the present." he told the bear, and dropped it in the fire grate. " Evanesco."

He concluded that Polly must have still been home that day, and therefore able to take the bear out from behind the cushion. Either that or Demogene had been here. He shuddered at that thought. Had Demogene truly been clever enough to open his wards? Had she been coming and going in his house this entire time? They had been made fools of, all of them, he realized.

Downstairs once more, he decided to inspect Polly's room. That door was resolutely locked--and it took a powerful blasting spell to force it open. Regardless of his intentions, he did feel slightly callous for intruding on what had been Polly's private space. Callous or no, he was impressed immediately by the almost unreal neatness of the room. The bed was tightly made, the curtains ironed into perfect pleats, and the floor immaculately bare.

A floor-to-ceiling shelf on one wall held a small collection of books, arranged in alphabetical order. A series of baskets held odds and ends, such as cosmetics, pins, combs, pencils,...a handful of knuts. Most of the shelves were empty, but one held a row of photographs; each framed in black. It was Polly's family, her mother and father, her siblings, even her grandmother. All were smiling and waving. A glance at her small desk showed that she had been writing a letter to her Cousin Maretha.

He opened the closet. All of Polly's clothes were arranged color groups, warm-weather clothes to the left, and cool weather clothes to the right. A second bar held several cloaks and capes, a formal dress, and a parasol. A neat row of hats were lined across the shelf, her shoes were stored in the boxes they had come with, labelled with the dates of purchase on one end. Pushing through the clothes, and suppressing a shudder as the fingery fringe of one blouse caressed his hand, he stepped into the back. There was quite a large open space, nothing that anyone with a few charms up their sleeve couldn't create.

Usually if a witch adjusted the size of her closet, it was to make room for extra clothes, a dressmakers dummy, a new shoe collection...even boxes of mementos. Nothing of the sort was in Polly's closet. There was only the draped form of Persephone seated on the floor in the corner. A knitted jumper had been hastily cast over her head, but an obvious china leg protruded from under the hem.

" And there _you_ are." he said, but not to the doll. He was referring instead to a tiny black thread in the paneling.

" Alohamora..." he said softly. The paneling swung inward slowly. Holding up his wand, he peered into the darkness. " Aha!"

He did not recognize the room before him, but he recognized immediately that it was not part if his own house. This spell was very complex, a way of linking rooms without them actually being contiguous. They most usually had some sort of spell protecting them from trespassers, so he was careful not to step through. That was a job for the Aurors. He pushed the door to, kicking the jumper so that it's sleeve blocked the door from closing completely.

He left everything else just as he had found it, and went to his study. He had every intention of Flooing Giles when he sat at his desk, but instead, he took out an envelope, and began gently unwinding Amanda's hair from his finger. It was nearly as long as his arm, so he had some difficulty placing it in the envelope. He could not have explained why he did it. It was just impulse, he supposed, scribbling a few words on the front before leaning over to unlock the bottom drawer. He rested his head a moment on the desk's edge after placing the envelope inside, and his last thought before falling asleep was how uncomfortable that position was.

---

Regardless of discomfort, he slept well into the next morning. He might have slept longer had it not been for Crisp, who stood hooting in concern, his long, ugly, scarred legs only inches from Edward's nose. His sudden movement startled the owl, who shed several feathers, and made a sound like a metal brake.

Ignoring the bird, he stumbled to the fireplace and Flooed Giles. His friend was not in, but a perky girl with a lisp took jotted down a message and promised that Mr. Barkwater would have it as soon as he returned.

A half hour later, Edward arrived at the hospital, where he found Amanda to be fully awake, and alone.

" Where is your mother?" he asked, pulling a chair close to her bed.

" They made her go home and rest. " she answered blandly. " Agnes came this morning."

" Did she?" his interest was piqued.

" Yes. She heard...from her husband." she picked morosely at thin blanket band resting across her waist. He instinctively took her hand, but she winced loudly, causing him to drop it just as suddenly.

" Still bruised." she mumbled, apologetically.

He asked what Agnes had said, and Amanda told him that her cousin had been hysterical, demanding to know the details of what had happened. From what Amanda could deduce, Agnes had demanded the same information of Adelfried, after overhearing a conversation between him and Dolores.

" She had a black eye." Amanda said. " And she didn't have her wand with her. When I asked, she said she had lost it."

" I seriously doubt that. What happened?"

" Grandmother was trying to calm her down, and then Eloise came, and said they would take her home...but she said she wanted to see Demogene. They left just before you arrived." she tried to situate herself more comfortably. Her eyes were surrounded by ghastly dark circles, and when she spoke, it was muffled, as she could only open her swollen lips slightly.

" Is there anything I can do?" he inquired, hopefully. She could not ask too much of him at the moment.

" I want to go home." she said, her voice trembling. " I hate this hospital!"

" I will talk to the healers about it." he promised. " Can I bring you anything?"

" A book perhaps." she replied after a few moment's thought.

" Which book?''

" Any book." she reached across with her unbroken hand and took his." Anything engaging. I...have to have some diversion. No, wait. No novels. I couldn't bear a novel right now. Perhaps a reference book. Something very boring."

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers.

" I'll bring you the entire bookstore. Something on the history of Spellotape."

She gave a weak smile and struggled to sit up a little more, biting her lip as her knitting bones protested.

" The Ministry sent a note to me this morning."

His face tightened, the only outward sign that if felt as though a cold stone had plummeted to the bottom of his stomach. Were they going to Obliviate her and send her away? Could he let her go now?

" What did it say?"

She gingerly pulled a small slip of paper from beneath her pillow. He took it carefully. It was written in a bold, slanting hand.

_**' In light of your recent misfortune due to circumstances beyond your control, we at the Ministry of Magic have decided to allot you one extra year in which to meet your obligations, beginning on the day of your hospital release. **_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**A.A. '**_

He didn't know whether to be relieved, angered, or both. The Ministry's ' generosity' was certainly welcome, but the timing was somewhat cold. He refolded the note carefully.

" Well..." he began, as though searching for the correct thing to say. At last he took the note and tore it in half." Let's not let them worry us again."

She smiled a little more at that, then exclaimed suddenly;

" Oh! Has anyone cared for Crisp?"

" Yes, I let him have the run of the dry pantry this morning while I spoke with Giles."

She relaxed back into the pillows.

" Poor thing, I forgot about him until now. That sounds like mother back. Did Giles have any news about Demogene?"

He shook his head at her.

" Not yet." not truly a false-hood. There was news, but he was ' not yet' willing to discuss any of it with her. Not until she was stronger.

---

They had interrogated Demogene again, but received no important information. No matter how deeply they delved, they only managed to discover that she was simply _obsessed_. A special wizard trained in mental illness had been summoned and he rationalized, ( for forty minutes in language no one could understand) that she had been traumatized in her youth by the death of her mother and brother, the overbearing nature of an elder sibling, and what she perceived as her own failed femininity.

With a slight amount of pushing, he was easily persuaded to declare her officially insane, so that the Inquisitors could promptly, and somewhat unethically empty her memories into a Pensieve and examine them at length. Everything that she had confessed to was there, and they could witness the very instances that she used every spell, right up to the attack on Amanda.

Edward wasn't allowed to see into it, but Giles told him later, in great detail what had happened, and complimented Amanda on her bravery and quick reflexes.

" She handled it with such grace and presence. You should be very proud of her." he said.

I am...Edward thought. He just did not have the words to express how much.

Even with the Pensieve,they did not find the source of the poison she had fed to Amanda. She received it, as she said anonymously.They had seen her door spell in use; it was how she gained access to Polly, who had truly been an unwilling victim in the entire ordeal. One memory showed Polly being Crucio'd, but still refusing to comply. Afterwards, Demogene had Obliviated her, then Imperieo'd her to perform some rather lewd acts.

" That door leads directly into Ms. Rookwood's attic." Giles informed him. " I'll want to investigate it."

" Of course. The wards are down at the moment."

Giles went on to say that he thought Demogene might have an accomplice, or at least, another person had to be involved at sometime. There were some rather obvious gaps in her memory, spaced in such a manner as to arouse suspicion.

" Agnes, perhaps?" Edward suggested.

" I wouldn't assume. No. If it is she neglected to remove herself from some other rather questionable memories."

" That could be a clever ploy."

" yes..yes it could. i suppose it is too early to exclude anyone from suspicion. Even you."

"Me?" Edward cried.

" Everyone!" Giles insisted. " And speaking of everyone, I found that Ashwell. "

" Oh?"

" He's been a guest at Blackmoor since the Ministry let him go. " Giles puffed out his cheeks and frowned thoughtfully. " So of course, he had powerful witnesses to claim he had been out of trouble. "

" Of course. So what do we do now?"

Giles went on to say that the new specialist was arrogant enough to believe that he could restore, with time, Demogene's missing memories. The charm that had removed them was not entirely fail-proof, and there were many successful restorations documented.

" I suppose we wait and see what he discovers. I can't go arresting everyone and spilling their memories."

" If I thought I could get away with it..." Edward said between his teeth. " I most certainly would try. "

" Yes, well, that's understandable. But as I have said, you too are under suspicion. The best thing you can all do is keep quiet, and hope that head doctor finds what we need. "

The only part of this that Edward related to Amanda was the fact that Polly had been completely innocent.

" It's still hard to understand. I saw _her_! When I have nightmares, it is _Polly_ attacking me!"

" That's only natural." he soothed. " But it was Demogene. Giles said that they are doing their best to discover why, and how."

Amanda nodded glumly. She had not been able to feel any grief, so shocked had she been by the course of events going on around her. All she felt was a hollowness, overshadowed by the ever-present burning discomfort of the magical spells helping her bones to repair. She wanted to confess this to him, but decided that, after all the hardship she had brought down upon him, it would only make her seem more hateful in his mind. She forced herself to smile weakly as he rose for Stella, who appeared in the doorway.

For once he was relieved to see his wife's mother, and even doubly glad to see her companion. Amele, looking plump and indecently happy despite her worried expression swept into the room in a comforting way, granting her sympathy not only to Amanda but to him as well, in such a genuine way that he actually felt better. Amele had that sort of magic about her.

Three days later, after no small amount of pleading and threatening, the Healers agreed ( either from genuine belief that their patient was recovered, or from the honest desire to have some peace) that Amanda was well enough to be transported home.

* * *

If I Should Fall Behind--Springsteen


	39. Chapter 39 Confessions of a Soul

_I can't fight this feeling any longer._

_And yet I'm still afraid to let it show._

_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 even as I wander,_

_I'm keeping you in sight._

_You're a candle in the window,_

_On a cold, dark winter's night._

_And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might._

_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._

_Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore._

_I've forgotten what I started fighting for._

_And if I have to crawl upon the floor,_

_Come crushing through your door,_

_Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore---_

* * *

--Confessions--

Nearly four months had passed by, and many cold inches had grown between Edward and Amanda.

It wasn't that Edward didn't want to comfort her, but for the longest time she was too uneasy, and could not be touched. She slept poorly, and any sudden movements pained her. When she tossed and turned it caused her to wake in a tearful fever. He had offered to move her into the second room, where she might be more comfortable on the soft feather mattress, but she refused. She didn't want to be alone, and desperately pleaded with him not to move bedrooms either.

The fact that she had quite shockingly burst into uncontrollable tears at his offer had unnerved him greatly as had her statement that she _would _leave if he wanted her too. Then she had apologized in near hysterics for her weakness, her stupidity, complicity, and ineptitude.

He had awkwardly try to reassure her that he did not blame her. It was a weak reply, but he couldn't manage to force out all of the bitter words he had to say against himself. He only told her he did not mind where she slept so long as she was comfortable, and the awkeard silence continued for many weeks during which he berated himself daily for being ducha fool.

He had doubted her.

He had not wanted to, but he had. He could blame Healer Withersmith, and his sly tones, for seeding rows of doubts, but he knew that he himself was wrong, and the thoughts he had harbored against her were unforgivable. If he had been a strong man himself, no words could have ever brought those doubts into his heart.

Even now, though he felt keenly the loss of the unborn children, and Amanda's gief, he could not deny a cold, steely edge in his nature that made him feel slightly relieved. _Grateful _to the tragedy that had at last allowed him to love her openly. To trust her. The memory of how that last pregnancy had come to be had always bothered him. It didn't seem _right_, to have one conceived in what he considered a moment of jealous passion. He had worried what markings such a child would bear, and whether or not he would ever be able to enjoy and accept it.

If someone accused him of being less than aggrieved over the child's death, he could not in all honesty, deny the claim. As ashamed as he was of these boiling emotions, he could not ignore it, though it caused him great guilt and agony. As they lay awake, night after night, he guilty and worried--and she grieving and anxious; the feelings grew like poison.

By the end of November the silence had reached a deafening crescendo, and he decided he could no longer continue. There was only one way to purge his soul, and he finally found the courage to face it as they lay awake, yet again, listening to the wind as it blew a heavy rain against the windows.

Steeling himself, he groped out with his hand, crossing the great linen divide between them, and touched...ever so gently,her shoulder.

And then, as though there had never been a _moment _of silence or doubt between them, she turned into his arms, and he gladly embraced her.

Hurriedly, before he lost courage, he began to confess himself.

Amanda listened, without speaking.

Her fingers coiled and uncoiled in his hair as she stared into the darkness, waiting as he apologized for having ever doubted her, for being cold to her, and for not admitting that he loved her. He told everything about Demogene, about the poisoned cakes, and Olivia's death. He told about Withersmith's accusation. He told the great relief he felt about her innocence, confessed how he had felt no grief for the loss of their second child.

Everything. Even though it sounded harsh, even though he hated himself for every word.

She was the judge, the jury, the witness. He gave her his soul and his heart ,and she took them with care, offering the only thing she could in return.

She gave forgiveness, then offered her own confession. She told about Hannigan, and how because of him she had decided love was impossible. She confessed that she had married him for the security it offered, not believing that she could ever love anyone. At least not love, as she thought she had felt it before. It seemed to him, such a petty offense next ot his own that it made him guiltier. Yet, it also made him more find of her, thinking she was merely searching for a something ot confess to make balalnce between them. It was partly true, she did feel the need to be hoenst and confess as well, but she did belive her crimes to be more wicked than his. She felt she had led him on, used him...caused him grief for no purpose.

Lastly she admitted to her worse crime; to feeling, since her fall, no grief. Only the unhappy feeling that he might dislike her now.

With these nasty truths about themselves finally released. She moved closer to him, pressing gratefully against his warmth. She had been so cold since the great blood loss she had experienced, and though a fire could warm her body, it could not reach the chilly recesses of her soul.

She confessed too that now, she was sure that she was in love, and that it felt much different for real. Much softer and warmer, like a light that reached all of the corners of the room, instead of just a brilliant, quick burning bulb in the center.

It was a new beginning.

Twelve days later Demogene was found dead in her cell. It was discovered that she had been killed by some sort of slow strangling spell, that affected her throat from the inside, preventing her from making any noise.

The Wizard specialist that had been restoring her memories was found unconscious in his office, with a nice, solid, old-fashioned knot growing on the back of his head. He was actually quite devastated by the news. He had been almost finished with a restructuring the first of the lost memories. He was even more devestated to discover that the pensieve into which the repaired memories had been stored, had been smashed, it's contents gone forever.

" What was the purpose in such an attack?" the specialist demanded, somewhat sadly.

Giles summed it up in a few words, later, over the chess board.

" Quite simple. Someone wanted those memories lost permanently." he captured Edward's queen." And what that means is, that a dangerous person is still amongst us, free--and utterly without conscience. _Checkmate_! "

* * *

_**Can't Fight This Feeling-  
REO Speedwagon**_

* * *

_**End of Part One****--**_

_** Author's Note: Thanks to any and all who have read this far.  
**_


	40. Chapter 40 Lathyrus

_**Lathyrus**_

_As thro' the land _

_As thro' the land at eve we went,_

_And pluck'd the ripen'd ears,_

_We fell out, my wife and I,_

_O we fell out I know not why,_

_And kiss'd again with tears._

_And blessings on the falling out_

_That all the more endears,_

_When we fall out with those we love_

_And kiss again with tears!_

_For when we came where lies the child_

_We lost in other years,_

_There above the little grave,_

_O there above the little grave,_

_We kiss'd again with tears.--_

Alfred Lord Tennyson

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" Clematis."

She rolled the blossom gently between her gloved fingers, watching the petals flutter for a moment.

" Strange that something so pretty and gentle looking can be so poisonous." she commented, before laying it to rest on the rough surface of the kitchen table.

" But such is the way of nature."

She took up another flower; a pale pink bloom.

" Primula vulgaris. Only mankind would name something so perfect, ' _vulgaris'." _she returned it to it's place as well.

Edward watched with amused interest as she began to examine every root, seed, blossom, and leaf that lay before her, inspecting each and every one for black spots, insects, bruises, and other imperfections. There was nothing. Each specimen was pristine.

They had 'constructed' a hot-house in the garden.It was her Christmas gift. From the outside, it was no bigger than a tool shed, but inside, it was roomy enough to allow for boxes upon boxes of herbs each with a special climate bubble set to the plant's own preferences.

Sempervivum basked in a dry, semi-shaded box, spreading it's rosette offspring, while in the neighboring box her prize Melissa officianalis flourished in a humid atmosphere and sandy soil, filling the air with the sweet aroma of lemon cake.

At the far end of the house, separated from common herbs, magical and rare herbs fought with each other for territory. Adolescent mandrakes moodily drew in their leaves to avoid being touched, bubotubers grew behind glass shields, Devil's Snare was contained by a ring of perpetual faux sunlight.

Amanda had requested the hothouse as a means of distracting herself while she healed, a suggestion that Edward thought was particularly healthy. He had brought her countless books on herbs while she was recuperating, and the skills that she had begun developing at Eloise's house had become slowly honed. So much so that they had to add a dry storeroom to the kitchen where she could hang great bundles of cooking and medicinal herbs upside down from the naked beams.

Also in the storeroom were shelves for cooking spices, shelves for prepared medicinal herbs, shelves for ointments, vapors, pills, salves, teas, tinctures, and potion ingredients. The room was spacious, and one entire wall could afford to be taken up by a sort of bureau the same height as the ceiling. It was composed of many small, square drawers, each with a brass plate containing a Latin word. Inside of these drawers were the rough wooden spindles that would eventually be wands.

Until recently the bureau had resided over the wand shop, where he had been accustomed to taking entire days to prepare certain numbers of wands. Now that he was reluctant to spend anytime at all away from home, he had re-located the supply bureau for his own convenience. Now he could prepare wands in the comfort of home.

The cabinet had never been organized before, merely stuffed with all sorts of wood, the sizes and grades helter-skelter in whichever drawer. He had always relied on instinct and touch to find the precise right piece. However he had no complaint when Amanda offered to organize it for him shorlty after he brought it home.

Now there was a set of drawers for every type of wood. Each drawer had dividers to section the wands from shortest to longest, and in each drawer was a different quality of wand. Beginning at extremely whippy, and ending at extremely rigid. That had been the most difficult category, because whereas you had an rigid oak, you did not have rigid elm, and whereas you had very supple mistletoe, there was nothing supple about Hornbeam.

That too, had always been done merely on instinct, but they managed as well as possible, and he had to admit it was much easier to simply reach for a drawer and know which wood, it's length, and how supple it was, rather than having to rummage blindly until one 'felt' correct.

He admired the cabinet once more as he opened the door of the storeroom for Amanda, who had finished bottling up the last of the roots, and gathered her arms full of the jars.The room was stuffed nearly to capacity. The hothouse had become so prolific of late that Eloise had actually requested that Amanda _not_ share any more of her bounty.

" _It's nothing personal..." _she had written, " but what is it that you have against growing _carrots_? I'm sure that one day I might have use for Syrian Bindweed, but that the moment, I have _eight full jars_ of it, and it qualifies as the herb I own the least of. Carrots, my dear. Carrots..."

Amele however was always a willing recipient of feverfews and catnip teas. She now had five boys. Her last, Wellis, was a colicky thing that gave his mother and father no rest. After Amanda's fall, Amele had been hesitant to bring the children around her, for fear of upsetting her. When Amanda at last suspected her friend's noble motives, she had written to her at once and begged them to visit her. She _wanted_ to see the children.

Yes, it had been difficult at first to see Wellis, him being only a few months older than her own Olivia would have been. But seeing the pure innocence in his large brown eyes, and watching as his brothers played about him rambunctiously, she became determined to have her own child, come what may.

They had only visited her the one time, in December. Wellis was so constantly ill, that Amele was too tired for outings, Then, in January, all of the children and Amele had caught Witches Measles, a particularly violent but non-deadly disease of the Wizarding world that lasted for over two months. The only cure was to drink bottles of fermented feverfew tea, and to avoid sunlight, moonlight, and if possible candlelight. Amele said in a note that even starlight made her itch, but Amanda thought she might be exaggerating.

It had only been a month since they had fallen ill, and Amanda had been sending great paper envelopes of herbs to them daily. She did this after storing away the rest of the bottles and jars, and Edward helped her with her packaging by tying the string, as her hand, despite several trips to the healers, had not regained it's former strength and dexterity.

Since that night, months ago, when they had shared their secrets, he had resumed his courtship, feeling it to be the least he could do after having been so cruelly mistaken about her. He found himself craving the smiles, the pretty looks and the sweet kisses each gesture invoked, and on some level of his consciousness, he believed he was binding her heart and soul, tighter and tighter.

This was not entirely true, as Amanda was already bound tightly, She had a simple heart and soul, and they already belonged to him. It was he who was being wound, as easily as string around her long fingers. It would not be too long before he was snubbed as close as a man could be and still believe himself in control of his own emotions.

Amanda had at first been perplexed by his actions, and might have remained just as innocent, if Eloise hadn't whispered into her ear what she suspected was occurring, and gave her advice on the most delicate way to handle such situations as those where a man was sacrificing his pride. To Amanda, it was as uncomplicated as behaving as she always did. She sometimes found the need to hide a smile, as his ideas were often quirky, and his compliments sometimes perplexing.

However, the most appreciated gestures were ones that he performed, such as tying the string, when he was not trying so hard, or when he was preoccupied, as he was now.

" Are you certain you will be fine, staying with Eloise?" he asked, after the bow was tied.

That question was part of a conversation that had been circulating between them for three days. Every other year, there was a convention of wandmakers that met in a pre-selected city. This year the city was Radom,in Poland. The Polish wands-man that had been in charge of examining Demogene's wand had been very excited about it, and had invited Edward. Edward used to attend every convention, but had slacked off in the last fifteen years, due to what he considered to be a lack of originality provided by other craftsmen.

Now he was almost on the verge of accepting...charged by his colleague's enthusiasm, and fresh ideas. He was in fact, within the proverbial inch of giving in to the temptation. He only needed to reassure himself that Amanda was well cared for, first. He had begun by asking her to accompany him.

" To Poland? In _February_?" she gave a dramatic shiver. She was wearing a woolen dress with a jacket in her _own_ home! As flattered as she was that he had invited her, she had to decline. She just did not feel like travelling, but she couldn't explain to him that it was more emotional than physical, the very thought of going out made her lazy and homesick.

And there was so much for her to do at home. A basket of mending, needlework projects, the attic to be cleaned, the hothouse to attend, books to read, and the housecleaning to perform. Without Polly, it had to be done the Muggle way. She also had a box of recipes to try, a new concerto to practice,letters to answer, and a huge volume of magical tree lore that she had not yet memorized. Most of all, she wanted to just sit about with plenty of time to think about how she felt.

She had hoped to stay at home and work peacefully through these projects, but that seemed to be out of the question. Edward absolutely refused to allow her to remain unsupervised, and everyone else agreed with him. Outnumbered, it had been arranged for her to spend the week at Rookwood. Her kinswomen seemed to view it as a sleep-over, which amused Amanda. If they were going to become so excited over so little, then she could afford to enjoy it as well. She might even catch up on all the latest gossip.

The Ministry Aurors had not yet discovered who had been responsible for murdering Demogene. Some people said that it was good riddance, but Eloise did not agree. Amanda herself felt strangely apathetic on the issue. She wanted to know...but she could not find it in herself to _care_. Like Giles, Edward, Arthur Weasley, Eloise, and the others, Amanda felt that not knowing only meant that a crazier, even _more_ dangerous person was still roaming the Wizarding world, perhaps planning harm to someone else.

Perhaps he or she already was doing harm. Eloise had gleaned from her various sources that no fewer than _twelve_ of the Muggle born brides had suffered mysterious deaths in the last year. Five more had been involved in accidents that had nearly killed them. Charles Bumpp's bride herself had been burned severely in an explosion, and had been irreparably blinded. Miraculously, none of the offspring successfully created by these marriages had been harmed, regardless of their proximity to their mothers. Coincidence? They had their doubts.

Until the matter was resolved, Amanda was under strict orders to be extremely cautious, and to not be caught in public without a chaperone.

Everyone, from Giles to Amele, felt that they had somehow failed Amanda the last time, and they were determined to be much more vigilant in the future. So much so that a day before the convention, Edward was still trying to be certain that everything would be fine.

She had told him repeatedly that she would be eternally guilty if he missed the convention. And she had said it so prettily, that he had agreed to go, just to save her from being guilty.

However...he was still uncertain.

" It isn't important, you know. These things are very boring. Very boring. Yes. Everything of value is printed up later in Baguette Magique. Nothing to go _for, actually._"

" If you don't go, I'll never forgive you." she replied.

" Not ever?"

" No."

" _You _have inherited your aunt's obstinacy."

" Who is being the obstinate one?" she laughed. " _I_ agreed to stay with Eloise, _I_ promised to not step out of doors without one of them along. What more can _I_ do?"

From her own perspective, she won. On the fifteenth of February, he left her at Rookwood, and began a series of Disapparation points that would lead him to Poland. At the approximate time that he was halfway between Liverpool and Amsterdam, she was sitting down in front of a fire, unconsciously twirling her locket and thinking about him, as Eloise and Stella began a discussion on the Quibbler, and it's accuracy in extolling the dangers of magically freed warts.

------------------------------------

Sweet Pea-symbolizes Love, Bliss,


	41. Chapter 41 Quercus

_**There's a tree out in the backyard**_

_**That never has been broken by the wind**_

_**And the reason its still standing**_

_**It was strong enough to bend**_

_**For years, we have stayed together**_

_**As lovers and as friends**_

_**What we have will last forever**_

_**If we're strong enough to bend**_

_**Like a tree out in the backyard**_

_**That never has been broken by the wind**_

_**Our love will last forever**_

_**If we're strong enough to bend--**_

**---------**

Woodman, spare that tree!

Touch not a single bough!

In youth it sheltered me,

And I'll protect it now.

'Twas my forefather's hand

That placed it near his cot:

There, woodman, let it stand,

Thy axe shall harm it not!--**Leslie Nelson-Burns**

**Quercus**

The first three days of the convention were busy and pleasant. His companion, Tadeusz, was intelligent and well know in several circles. He was the youngest wandmaker to attain a license as official tester, and had already written a concise autobiography, in which he claimed to have created a wand for a certain, anonymous royal figure, whom he was not at liberty to name.

Edward wasn't certain if he believed him on that point but he was undoubtedly _good_. His wands were a bit floral however, burdened around the upper handles with fancy scrollwork. It did not appear to hinder the user though, as he learned on the fourth day when a room was set up specifically for everyone to test random wands.

Tadeusz's wand had a direct beam. Another wandmaker's main sample, had an uncontrollable arc and a very jerky kick when casting. This caused it to harm four bystanders.

By the evening of the fourth day, Edward could no longer concentrate for thinking of Amanda, and at last asked to borrow Tadeusz's owl. His companion had retrieved the bird with a somewhat knowing grin and reassured him by saying that he had always worried what his wives were doing while he was away as well.

" Now, Mila, she is my _fifth_ wife, and she is the best. Not the prettiest, but what a cook! I never have to worry about her though." He held out his hands to indicate how large his wife was. " She is a big, strong woman! Which one is this one, your wife?"

" Second." Edward had answered stiffly.

Tadeusz had seemed surprised.

" Second wife. When was my second wife? I was twenty four. Her name was..." he frowned." How about that, I cannot even recall her name. There have been too many wives and sweethearts since then! " he laughed, white teeth flashing in the artificial light, and produced a Muggle wallet full of photographs, each containing a pretty woman. A picture of a brunette with large brown eyes and long legs bore the legend " Veronique" across the back, and Tadeusz exclaimed gleefully. " Veronique! That was her name. My Niqila. Wasn't she gorgeous?"

Edward responded politely. Tadeusz seemed to think it odd that the older man did not carry the picture's of his wives, but went on to show another set of photographs, these containing smiling, rosy cheeked children of varying ages. He counted five, but Tadeusz insisted it was six.

After this ritual, which he apparently performed with pride at every new acquaintance, Tadeusz called for his owl, by using a small carved bone whistle around his neck.

" Here, this is Olga, she will take your letters to your sweetheart."

Olga looked more like a stone than an owl. She was a dusty grey, fat thing no taller than a hand. She had slightly crossed eyes, and looked at Edward with a mournful expression when he told her how far the letter was to be carried. She gave him another reprimanding look when she saw how heavy the letter was.

He had filled three sheets of parchment with random bits of nothing, describing his companion, the weather, a book on numerology and it's relationship to the length of certain wands. He had rolled into the parchment a Muggle tourist pamphlet on Radom, with a beautiful, glossy photograph of an impressively decorated church on it's cover. This is what weighed down the parcel.

It took Olga three good tries to get off the ground. By the time she was somewhat airborne, the feathers on her rotund bottom had been mostly rubbed away by the table. She returned a few hours later carrying no answer. There was no cause for alarm though, as Crisp arrived only minutes behind her, looking more frazzled than usual. He carried Amanda's reply which answered all of his questions and assured him that she was fine, and enjoying the gossip and company of her relatives. She also said that Olga was 'tetchy' and wouldn't carry an answer for her.

He noticed that Crisp, though always slightly ruffled, was puffed up enormously against the chilly air. He shot the fat grey owl a look of disbelief and indignation, before fixing Edward with an inquisitive expression. A slightly accusing, inquisitive expession.

" It isn't _that_ cold." Edward informed him.

Crisp hooted skeptically.

" Yes, I know she's rude. Staring at her is only going to egg her on. " Crisp was obviously not pleased that Olga had refused to carry a letter for Amanda, thereby necessitating _his _journey forth into what he thought to be the polar regions of the universe.

Edward wrote a hasty note and attached it to Crisp's crunchy leg.

" There...now you can return to the warmth of home. Please return here tomorrow at six o clock."

He carried Crisp to the window, dreading to open the protective barrier of glass.

" Remember not to fly down the chimney." the owl was eccentric, and useful, but occasionally he had to be reminded of certain points of etiquette and safety. " And don't stand on the parlor furniture, you've stepped in the ink well!"

Crisp hooted again, and made a clumsy start into the night sky.

------

Shortly after his departure, Tadeusz reappeared. He was flushed and excited, clutching a handful of crumpled flyers in one hand, and his case of wands in the other.

" Fala is _here_." he declared.

" Fala." Edward stated, closing the window.

Few ordinary Wizards knew the name, and even fewer were prepared to believe in the man. Fala. The great shaman. The man who claimed that his power came from talking to the trees before harvesting the wood from their branches. Like a Quibbler cover, he was permanently disputable, yet among wandmakers he retained a sort of cult hero status.

" Have you met him before?" Tadeusz seemed rather overcome, trembling as she shifted from foot to foot.

" Fala? No. No, I remember everyone I have ever met. Not he. I was under the impression that he did not come into the public these days. Not since the curse."

Tadeusz large eyes widened, and a few of the pamphlets slipped from his arms, fluttering to the floor at his feet.

" What was that? A curse?"

Edward could see that his companion desired a detailed, no doubt lurid account. He himself knew of the incident only from the wandmaker's periodical.

" I believe it was his rival. Yes...a rival. They were both racing to perfect a wand that could be used _only_ by it's owner...and Fala apparently drew a little too close to success. The other Wizard blasted him with a memory charm from behind a podium, in...Vienna, I believe."

" Everyone is gathering in the atrium for his lecture." Tadeusz said. " He brought a tree."

" A real tree?"

" Yes. A _whole_ tree. They were expanding the room earlier to make room for it. There is to be a demonstration." he held up one of the sheets of parchment, which showed the stern, noble face of the Native American Wizard. He held in his hand a palm size tree. A crow perched on Fala's left shoulder, it's beady eye fixed at the photographer.

Edward pulled on his jacket. This was an event he most certainly did not wish to miss!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

" The tree is a living being...it is your sister and your brother."

Edward and Tadeusz watched, enthralled. The atrium, which had been only an empty room the day before, was now equipped with a row of seats and a stage. One could _almost_ mistake it for a Muggle theater, save for the fact that the seats were all large, comfortable wingback armchairs upholstered in immaculate red velvet.

There was also a noticeable lack of wires, cables, and lights...the sound was magically amplified, the lighting produced by weird floating spheres with globes tinted in red and blue. In the center of the stage a very impressive oak tree had been temporarily planted, it's branches extending so far as to canopy the persons seated in the front two rows. Under this tree stood Fala, a figure nearly as impressive as the tree itself.

His long, iron grey hair was loose, save for two braids at his temples. These were wrapped in brightly dyed pieces of leather, and decorated with slender crow feathers.His robes were of a dusky buckskin color, heavily embroidered with magical and alchemical symbols of all cultures, with beadwork clackling soothingly at his wrists. Leather fringe fell from his sleeves to the floor creating a buttery waterfall effect whenever the spheres of light rotated behind him. On his shoulder sat the glossy, haughty crow, which would occasionally fan out it's wings as though preparing to take flight.

Edward ahd always heard that Fala was two-thirds hocus-pocus, and that his showmanship out-styled his workmanship, but at the moment he was just as utterly absorbed as Fala wanted him to be. A glance at his companion showed that he too, was mesmerized.

For the last half hour, they had listened, as Fala explained the tree in terms that re-awoke the mystery of nature. He described it's personality, it's heart, and it's desires to the few who had dared to appear.

" A wand needs no _core_, no _herbs_, no _crystals_...no _unicorn hair_." he said this pointedly, and several Wizards shifted uncomfortably. "The magic is in the tree itself, the wood. It is born of the Mother Earth, it is watered by the rain, nourished by the sun. It is a _life_."

He raised his arm in an arc,( the crow imitated this gesture with it's wings) brought them down and pointed at Tadeusz.

" You...come to the tree, and lay your hands upon it's skin."

Tadeusz hastened shyly toward the stage, the first time that Edward had seen the other man somewhat subdued. As he clambered awkwardly up, Fala gestured to the tree.

" Go ahead, touch it."

Tadeusz did so. Edward wondered what he felt? Was it merely cool, rough oak bark? Or did it have that unmistakable _thrum_ that would eventualize each time a ordinary, dead object became charged with magic. His own palm tingled. A brief glance to his right showed the others of the audience also rubbing their hands along their robes. One auburn haired woman at the end, he recognized her as Maple Van Tessman, was looking with undisguised interest at her palm, and scribbling notes in a notebook bound in blue-dyed arctic fox fur.

Seeing him, she grinned, tapping her quill against her teeth. She was quite an anomaly, as she wore Muggle braces, and always had...as long as Edward could remember. They glinted disturbingly in the fake lightning, reflecting both pink and blue, and a hybrid purple.

Edward knew her father and mother, Johann and Ramona Van Tessman. Very dedicated if not obsessive wandmakers, who had named all of their fourteen offspring after trees. Maple's most famous quote, after writing her first book, had been that she was less fortunate than her sister Willow, but ever more so fortunate than her brother Buxus, whom she assumed was her mother's least favorite. Whether or not the Van Tessman children despised their parents for the unfortunate nomenclature, Maple was certainly the only one who had gone on to make wands.

" Can you feel that?" she mouthed glinting at him. He gave only a curt nod in reply, as Tadeusz was now being asked to snap a branch from the tree. He seemed reluctant to do so, his face reflecting the same sort of vague repugnance it might if he had been asked to knock a fish in the head just to see it shudder. He gasped aloud when Fala took his hand nd guided him to a small, straight twig just within reach.

" Break it away." he commanded, and Tadeusz obeyed. The snap was vividly audible, and everyone winced.

" Now, _use_ it."

" Use it?"

Fala smiled patiently, and performed a sweeping gesture with his arm. The crow shifted, and ruffled it's feathers indignantly.

" Use it. Make a spell."

" Oh! Yes of course!' Tadeusz laughed, embarrassed. He pointed the wand at the floor, and made a complicated series of wrist movements, meant to create a colored lines on a surface. Nothing happened, and there was a soft whisper as the audience released a collective breath.

" I...I'm sorry." Tadeusz apologized, offering the twig back.

" No need to be sorry. ' Fala took the twig. " This can be made into a wand. It can be bored out, and filled with a magical substance. It can then be capped, carved, sanded, stained, and at last polished. The maker's magic strongly influencing and possibly overpowering the wood itself. "

He carefully set the piece aside on his worktable, the pointed to the tree again.

" Now, this time, ask the tree's permission."

" I beg your pardon?"

" Think of the tree, like a woman..."

Maple tilted her head and gazed, with raised brows over the rim of her tortoiseshell glasses.

" You don't touch a woman without her permission." Fala said.

Edward commended Tadeusz on not arguing this point.

" Ask permission. Stroke the branch, coax...explain what you need." he guided Tadeusz's hand back to the tree.

After a moment's bashfulness and a slight shrug, Tadeusz began to caress the branch, while murmuring in a low dulcet tone on his native language. A few chuckles sounded from the back of the audience.

Edward could not make out the words that Tadeusz spoke, but he could see from Fala' expression that he was satisfied. Anyone else might have tried a little humor then, said a few funny words to get a giggle later on as they told the tale, but Tadeusz was not so crass. He became completely absorbed in what he was doing...never noticing when Fala began a low chanting in his throat. The sound washed over the crowd in a tidal wave of comfort, soothing them even as it raised gooseflesh on their arms.

Tadeusz needed no more instruction. He ran his hands along the branch as though massaging someone's leg, palms inward, fingers straight and stiff. His head was thrown back, and his eyes were closed. When he reached the next twig, he encircled it gently, and with a small nod broke it off into his hand. The sound of wood snapping was complimented by the short burst of silver sparks from it's end.

There was a soft thump as Maple's notebook slid from her lap to the top of her shoes.

Tadeusz opened his eyes and examined the wand with reverent awe. Then, without having to be goaded, he brought it up, waved it around and declared, "Expecto Patronum."

Everyone ducked and exclaimed as a large silvery boar shot over their heads, and disappeared into the darkness of the empty atrium. After a moment of silence, there was applause. Maple seemed the most generous, and was possessed of very loud hands, thus drawing Tadeusz's attention to herself. She granted him a look that went somewhat beyond professional admiration.

Tadeusz returned to his seat, still clutching the stick, while Fala concluded his lecture. Edward wouldn't have asked, but Tadeusz offered the wand for his examination. Much as he expected, the wood felt _alive_. It did more than simply vibrate in his hand... it practically writhed.

" Incredible." he said.

" Isn't it? " Tadeusz breathed.

The spheres of light suddenly vanished, and the overhead lights returned, blinding everyone temporarily. The demonstration was at an end however everyone was perfectly welcome to step up and take wood from the tree to study. Edward was making his way to the table, passing by two gentlemen who scoffed at the whole show as being a cheap effect, when Maple overtook him.

" Where is your _friend_?" she asked breathlessly.

" Just behind." he answered. She had her wand stuck through her hair, and her were glasses now perched on top of her head.

" Oh yes. I see. Well, wasn't that a _show_?"

" Do you believe in it?"

" Well...yes." she nodded. " Don't you?"

" I've been an admirer for years."

" Ah yes. " She tapped his sleeve with her quill. " I see the similarities in doctrine. That paper you wrote on how wands choose the wizards."

" I'm flattered. _You _read my paper? My greatest rival in England?"

" Ah, now you flatter me!" she said. " And anyway, we aren't any of us rivals here! Except perhaps that Jace Bollinger. I've never liked him."

" Yes, rather unethical, isn't he." they regarded a haughty young man carelessly handling the wands on Fala's table.

" This younger generation. They think we are too old...and I think _they_ are to impetuous."

" Not to mention absurd!" Tadeusz exclaimed joining the circle. " I just saw a young wandmaker trying to sell wands over twenty inches long, claiming that length was the fashion of the future. "

" Are we fencing or dueling with these wands?" Maple laughed.

" I don't believe we have been introduced?" Tadeusz said, granting her a heart-melting smile.

" Maple Van Tessman." she offered her hand.

" Tadeusz. And we don't need surnames." he kissed her knuckles.

" Very well. Now, why don't you walk with me and tell me all about these foppish new wands, and about that marvelous demonstration earlier."

They excused themselves to Edward, who barely noticed. He had just seen Fala gesture to him. As his two companions made their way arm in arm around the atrium, which was filling with people once more, Edward continued on to the table. Fala nodded for him to step to the side of the stage curtain with him, and set the crow to watch over the loiterers.

Edward, who usually had no difficulty in finding something to say at all times, was strangely silent, and felt comfortable being silent, as if it were the proper thing to do. Fala leaned close, smelling of leather and herbs.

" You are the little English wandmaker." he said. " Yes I know you. They say that you are the best, the ones who buy your wands. They say that you treat the wand as a living creature, with thoughts. That is very respectful."

" It is an instinct. The way I believe!" Edward said, as though defending himself.

" Good." Fala seized his hand suddenly and pressed something into his palm. " Give it to her, tell her to keep it close, and she'll have no more troubles. It will be easy."

" Who?"

" The red haired woman. Your wife."

" My _wife_? How do you know about my _wife_?"

" I learn a lot about people from listening to their souls talk. I saw in a trance yesterday, that you would be here, and that I would give this to you. All this week, I've seen a vision of her, and knew she needed this." he tapped the object.

Edward looked down into his hand, It was just a square leather bag, tied at the top with a rawhide string. A beadwork sun graced the front.

" What is it?"

" Protection. She still has nightmares. Ushta, she tells me so. She is a spirit messenger. Not just a familiar." he jutted his chin at the crow. " She'll know it is good magic...this woman. It's in her blood. Tell her...tell her to never open it. Just keep it close. She'll need it, in the future."

Then Fala handed Edward one of the tree wands, and with a whistle to the crow, he began to walk away.

Edward remembered just in time to call out a thanks. The Indian nodded sagely, then vanished into the crowd.

---------------

Strong Enough to Bend-Lyrics, Don Schlitz/Beth Nielson Chapman


	42. Chapter 42 Malus

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."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can't fight this feeling-Reo Speedwagon

The first time-Rod Stewart


	43. Chapter 43 Lonicera

Oh, it's a jolly 'oliday with Mary

Mary makes your 'eart so light!

When the day is gray and ordinary

Mary makes the sun shine bright!

Oh, 'appiness is bloomin' all around 'er

The daffodils are smilin' at the dove

When Mary 'olds your 'and you feel so grand

Your 'eart starts beatin' like a big brass band

It's a jolly 'oliday with Mary

No wonder that it's Mary that we love!

* * *

**Lonicera**

Amanda was not the sort who needed constant verbal reassurances, not since she was a very young girl, at least. Sometimes, she had a great difficulty in knowing which way to go, or what to expect from a situation, but she was learning to understand looks. Understand looks,yes, and the look he had been giving her since she gave him the news spoke more words than a few common compliments could offer. As did discreet gestures, some_ so_ discreetly made as to be almost invisible by someone who did not understand them.

She was rather pleased with herself, and that, combined with the happiness and hope of motherhood once more created for her an aura of unadulterated health and natural beauty; a glow that no cosmetic or spell could ever recreate. Part of that healing had been psychological.

After she had learned of all that Demogene had done, she had ceased visiting the small cemetery where her daughter was buried, unable to cope with the anguish that such visits created in her heart. She had not once been to Polly's grave. She had not given Polly a _thought,_ except when she adamantly refused to find a replacement for her.

Edward had dutifully refrained from discussing Olivia, Demogene, or Polly with her, and watched with some trepidation as she ceased visiting the little grave.The healer's warnings about her mental health concerned him, but since she seemed otherwise to be well, he let it lie.

The day after telling him about the newest pregnancy, Amanda called on Stella to take her to see Olivia's grave. She also went to see Polly's, and lamented that she could not find it in herself to forgive the woman, despite her innocence.

" In a way, she wasn't innocent." she said to Stella, who sat beside her on the grass, looking at the grave-marker. " She didn't resist."

" She couldn't. Demogene was much stronger. "

Demogene's grave lay in the far corner of the Rookwood cemetery, beside her mother. The interment had been grim, stark, and composed beneath the still stifling air of disbelief they had all felt since the trial. Amanda of course had not gone, nor had Stella. They said that Agnes had; they said that Agnes had been frightening to behold in her grief and dismay.

Even now, when Amanda could look upon Polly's stone, and feel pity, she could not look towards her cousin's grave, which sat stark and flowerless compared to the floral covered resting places of the other family members. She tried to stir up the intense grief of before, but alls he could muster was cold emptiness.

Later in her journal she wrote;

" I must be less sentimental than I should be. But I can only feel what is natural, I cannot pretend to feel sorrow any longer. I cannot, either,pretend to feel forgiveness."

After her visit to the graves, she devoted herself to conditioning the second bedroom into a nursery. She had chosen that room over the other, smaller rooms, due to the connecting door, and because she could not bring herself to reopen the first nursery.

She made and hung white curtains in the windows, and spent many hours seated cross-legged in the bed, trying to decide which color she would have Winter paint it when she finally divulged her secret to the rest of the family. Or maybe she would insist on hand-painting it. She could enlist Stella's help with that. Stella would not be pleased, but Amanda was becoming very opposed to magic in it's superfluity. Hadn't she always managed very well without it? Some days , she would much rather have no magic, and the means by which to do her work the Muggle way, than to have to wait for someone to appear and do it for her.

Bit by bit, since Polly's death, she had been adapting the house to fit her needs, instead of before, when she relied on someone else to simply swish and flick to find or repair any specific object. Instead of simply summoning the matches from whatever room of the house they happened to be, she made sure to have a supply next to every fireplace and candle cupboard.

She told Edward what she was thinking, and he was not entirely enthusiastic, even after she said she intended to have Stella paint the upper walls. He hoped that her mother would successfully talk her into some sense when the time came. To distract her, he told her to have Amele come and make the bedding and what-not for the room.

" There will be a need for a great deal of it, I would imagine." he had said mysteriously.

The next morning, to Amanda's shock and delight, she walked into the room to discover a wooden cradle, with delicately turned spindles and a scrolling ivy wreath at the headboard. She stroked it appreciatively for a moment, breathing in the smell of new wood.

New wood?

She knelt and examined it more closely. Two years ago, she might not have been able to tell a person anything other than it was a cradle, but after spending so many days either in the wand shop or at home preparing wands, or wood for wands, she was able to discern that this was no heirloom dragged from the attic. This was new, freshly carved, and recently polished.

Excited, she turned it slightly to it's side, and began feeling around for the mark. Triumphantly she discovered it just under the bottom, towards the lower left. A very small, raised 'O'.

" You made this!" she exclaimed.

He started. He had been watching her from the doorway, and had assumed his presence was unnoticed.

" I did." he agreed.

" Isn't it just amazing? Look at all of the detail work!"

" Yes...I've seen it." he replied with dry humor. " I don't_ only _do wands you know."

" I never thought about it, I suppose. Do you do this, furniture I mean, often?"

" Not anymore. I learned it when very young. I decided at a specific juncture of my adolescence to rebel against my father and make only end tables and owl perches."

" What happened?"

" The end tables were a success, and the owl perches were temperamental. I couldn't bear the thought of all those crippled owls on my conscience."

---

Amanda could wait no longer, and sent Crisp with a note inviting Amele over that afternoon. She understood Edward's sudden enthusiasm towards purchasing cradle linens, and was determined to have the perfect set created. Something to showcase not just a baby, but her husband's handiwork.

Amele appeared forty minutes later than she had promised in her reply, and came through the fireplace explaining rapidly that Franchot had pushed Renee through the Floo earlier, so that she had to travel all the way to Ipswich, where she found her son in a sweet's shop, eating caramel barley and telling the elderly couple who owned the establishment that he was an highwayman who had only nearly escaped being hanged by his elder brother.

" Embarrassing! That is what it was. Ah, but they grow up so fast, and you just never know what they will say to someone. Nearly hanged! Oh, they looked at me very queerly. Imaginative, my little Renee. Of course..." she glared without anger at her elder boys." I wouldn't doubt they_ did_ try to hang him!"

The older boys feigned a look of surprised innocence that she would suggest such a thing.

Wellis, the youngest, Amele kept tied to her wrist by means of a long, brightly colored gypsy shawl, which she had magically affixed to the waist of his toddler robes. Amanda was not sure whether this was for Amele's convenience, or Wellis' safety, as his brothers would come around ever so often and ask if they could use him for a prop in this or that game they were attempting to play. Their mother always refused.

When Amele and Amanda had finished their tea, and the boys their juice and sweets, Amele herded them all into the parlor with strict orders not to break anything that she couldn't mend with a Reparo. She then took out a small bag, and emptied several tiny objects onto the floor. These were shrunken toys, with which, after they were returned to their normal size the younger boys fell to playing, while Jules read from a large volume on curses he had brought along, and Arden asked to play on the piano.

Amanda propped the lid open for him, and Amele stabilized it with a sticking charm to keep him from pretending later that it was a finger guillotine for his younger brothers.

" Now, this entire room had better still be here, when we return." she warned sternly, before following Amanda, and leading Wellis patiently up the stairs.

As always, Amele carried in her bottomless bag, a catalogue of fabric samples that was always being changed to suit the fashions and times. Amanda flipped randomly through them, as Amele admired the cradle.

" What colors were you considering?" Amele asked.

" Well...I hadn't considered any. I was hoping one would just appeal to me."

" Try out your imagination. "

" Well, I'll probably give grandmother the task of decorating it. She did such a wonderful job the last time. "

" Yes, but she just performs the spells, no? You choose the world."

Amanda looked at the ivy-crowned cradle, and then at the walls. She thought of Crisp, and the oak tree where she had spent so many afternoons in her childhood.

" Forest." she said at last. " I would like it to be a forest. But not too realistic. Whimsical. With owls painted in the trees."

" Then the linens should look as moss. "

" But not a fairy bower."

" Artistic."

" Exactly."

Amele took the fabric book, and found a sample near the back, of large tear drop printed cloth, where each teardrop fitted into the one below.

" This...only with leaves?"

" Yes."

Amele took out her chewed pencil and made a note.

" For the curtains. Now for the cradle...hmmm, I will find something mossy, and soft. " she began listing the many essential items, and they spent a good half hour figuring up how many sets of what might be needed, and whether the rocking chair should have a new cushion, and whether Amanda should or should not have any new dresses made.

At last they were both satisfied, and they returned downstairs for more tea, and to see if the boys were still alive. Amanda asked Amele to be certain not to give her secret away, as she was waiting for just the right time to surprise her mother with the news.

The perfect time with which to surprise her mother was slow in arriving. She had many opportunities, but none seemed exactly appropriate. The day Stella was having her teeth cleaned, for instance, was not the right day, nor was the day they spent in Diagon Alley straightening out an order for live slugs that Winter had placed a week earlier, and had been delayed by an owl collision during an unexpected fog.

Amanda let the time slip away, happy in her secret selfishness. She blamed her unease and pallor on a spring cold she had managed to acquire in Muggle London, and Stella, preoccupied with her newest hobby, ( the creation of hair wreaths; an antiquated, tedious craft once favored by the Victorians and now blazing through the Wizarding community.) was satisfied with her answer.

Three weeks after Amele's visit, the linens were finished and delivered. Amanda spent three-quarters of an hour admiring them, and another fifteen minutes in writing out a lengthy note of sincere thanks. Afterwards, she was preparing to move a few items, such as blankets and diapers, from the first nursery into the second, when she was interrupted by the arrival of Snegourka, Eloise's demure owl, who had come to deliver a lacy invitation.

Snegourka seemed unusually reluctant to relinquish the envelope; Amanda suspected that was her small revenge at Amanda for sending Crisp around so often. Snegourka was an old maid and a hermit, and she didn't appreciate the fact that Crisp was allowed to barge in with such familiarity. He also seemed to be smitten with her, and had come home many nights with holes pecked in his head by her impatient beak.

" You shouldn't be so hard on him." Amanda said to the white owl. Snegourka only ruffled her neck feathers irritably and flew off before Crisp had a chance to discover her.

The invitation was for a dinner at Rookwood in three days. Just a small affair; Eloise, Winter, Stella, and two other guests, one that Amanda only vaguely remembered from the days of being groped under the table by Martin Ashwell. A man named Sloop.

The other was an eccentric Witch named Francy Suttlecomb. Francy was an explorer by trade and would say she was ' just going out' when what she meant was she was going to traipse barefoot across South America without any provisions other than a penknife and her glasses. She always wore a baggy sort of short pants that looked like bloomers, and a series of vests each with numerous pockets in which she claimed to carry everything she required for survival; yet on inspection, the pockets revealed only her wand, penknife, a ball of string, two musket balls, and a tin of apricots. Amanda liked her.

She showed the invitation to Edward that evening, and he agreed it would be nice to attend. If Ms. Suttlecomb were planning to traipse anywhere particularly exotic in the future, he could place a request for some unusual ingredients, or if nothing else, ask how the witches and wizards in Tobago made their wands.

Amanda toyed with the idea of at last telling Stella and the others about the baby. After the other guests had left of course, and she could speak with them in private. She liked that idea. It was nearing the time when she would no longer be able to hide the fact, despite how safe it made her feel. An evening of light food, and even lighter conversation appealed to her, and she began to look forward to the event.

When the evening of the dinner came around though, she discovered one of the few things for which she missed having a little magic . Her hair. Personally she could manage it into no more than two styles. Loose. And a loose tail. After two frustrating hours in which she was determined to achieve something more bold, she at last managed to pull it back on top and pin it with a bronze barrette; a style that made her look even younger than she was, and much more innocent.

Well, it would have to do. It was straight at least, and she was not going to Floo her mother to come all the way over just to curl her hair. She did regret for a moment declining Edward's offer to hire a new maid. As she grew more tired, the help would be nice, but the desire did not outweigh her complete fear at the idea of having another person in the house again.

Tightening the barrette, she gave an impatient sigh and since Edward was not looking, dared to stamp her foot just a little. After the hair, she was not looking forward to choosing her dress. She had a wonderful selection, ranging from the greatly formal, to the severely casual, but none of them fit her well at the moment. She could squeeze into any of them, but she didn't want to make her condition blatant.

After flipping impatiently through the closest choices, she selected a rust-colored suitdress with a large peplum. It was one of Amele's miracles and looked classy, like something Ingrid Bergman would wear in a farewell scene. It had a low vee neckline, and the skirt hit her at mid-calf, much shorter than her usual dresses. She had worn it many times in the past as it was comfortable, and cool. Even Eloise wouldn't think it out of place.

She examined herself closely in the mirror. She was four months along by her own calculations, and her belly seemed quite obvious to herself. However, to anyone who was not suspecting, it would look as though she had merely gained back the dramatic amount of weight she had lost after her fall.

" You look lovely." Edward commented sincerely. She gave him a small flirtatious smile in reply.

" Can you feel her moving yet?" he asked, noticing her where her hands lay.

" Not yet. Why so certain it is a girl?"

" It is. I insist. And she will have curly red hair." he said, fastening Amanda's pearls over the locket, as she held up her hair. " Are you certain you feel well enough for this?"

She nodded, applying a thin coat of lipstick. He watched with amused fascination, having rarely seen anyone use Muggle cosmetics.

" I feel quite well. I'll come home if I tire." she assured him. " I'm sure the evening will be interesting."

Besides, she thought to herself, she was ravenously hungry, and if Eloise was having a party then it would most likely involve crepes suzette. And she could think of nothing she wanted more right now than a plateful of crepes suzette. Her mouth was practically watering at the thought as Edward let them out the front door into the mild evening.

It was early yet, so they decided to walk a while before Disapparating. They strolled comfortably along, enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees, and the hooting of owls carrying messages through the night.

" Lenore." Edward uttered.

" Excuse me?" she asked.

" What do you think of the name _Lenore_?"

" Too tragic." she said after some thought.

They had not discussed names yet, but it suddenly felt very right to do so.

" What about Elizabeth?" she asked.

" Regal, but too long. Especially in combination with the surname. Anne?"

" Too short. Especially with the surname. Caroline?"

" Not _quite_ pretty enough. Pandora."

" Might lead to a few bad habits. Clytie?"

" No...I don't care for that one at all. Perhaps something fresh. Gemma?"

" Not too bad. Charlotte?"

" Perfect!"

" What?"

" Why, that name is perfect. Charlotte. We can call her Lottie, and she will have your hair.Do _you_ like it?"

" Yes, actually I do. It's highly appropriate too. She would be named after one of my favorite authors."

" And that would be...?"

" Charlotte Brontë."

" I've never read her writing.What did she write about?"

" Love." Amanda answered, squeezing his hand and laughing." Rather...unorthodox love."

* * *

Jolly Holiday Lyrics- **Richard M. Sherman** and **Robert B. Sherman**

Lonicera- Honeysuckle is a vining plant that smells sweet, and coils its more fragile self seductively around sturdy trees for support. It symboloizes an erotic love.


	44. Chapter 44 Atropa

You've got your ball

you've got your chain

tied to me tight tie me up again

who's got their claws

in you my friend

Into your heart I'll beat again

Sweet like candy to my soul

Sweet you rock

and sweet you roll

Lost for you I'm so lost for you

You come crash into me

And I come into you

I come into you

In a boys dream

In a boys dream---

* * *

--Atropa--

When they had Apparated to Eloise's doorstep, Edward took out his wand.

" Now, watch this..." he said slyly, and with a quick maneuver he had unlocked her basic wards, " Nothing irritates her quite so much."

Amanda laughed, for she had heard this mentioned many times before. Eloise ,and Winter as well, both insisted that there was some sort of devilry in his magic that he could unlock any ward. Even Eloise's.

With the arrogance that only old family friends are allowed to have, he let them into the foyer, anticipating with glee the tight -lipped look Eloise would have as soon as she learned they had not bothered to knock.

Edward helped Amanda from her light cloak with the delicate touch of a man convinced she were fragile enough to break in two. Hanging the garment on the rack, alongside his own, he reached for the inner door to knock, only to draw up short at the sound of his wife's name being spoken from within.

" Amanda?" Oh, well...she is just ambitious." the voice belonged to Agnes. " If the law is repealed it won't be any concern to her; she has done a fine job of placing herself."

" I don't see it that way." Another woman commented. " I don't see how a squib could have the _brains_ to be ambitious."

" It doesn't take brains to be ambitious, Gladys." a throatier woman declared." The law was in her favor. Being an un-marriageble spinster, with a fortune behind her, the law was practically doing her a favor; setting the chance to marry someone at death's door, and gain two fortunes, practically in her lap. To be ambitious, all you need is greed and the appropriate female attributes."

" And you would know that, wouldn't you Becca?" a man chortled

" _I_ was never an ugly un-marriageble spinster, so no, I wouldn't know. But you can bet your galleons that as soon as he is gone, it will be fine clothes and young lovers. That's how nature intends it, really."

" I don't think you should generalize. I feel sorry for her." yet another woman declared.

" Whatever for, Evangeline?" The throaty woman laughed.

" Well, she was basically a child compared to him. It was practically _enslavement_. Lord knows what perversions and abuse she is forced to withstand."

Amanda opened her mouth to object, but Edward clapped a hand over it.

" Shh..." he wore a very odd expression.

" Ha! Well, if she does, she no doubt brings them on herself. I was at the wedding. The girl is a simpleton, couldn't speak a coherent line." said the chortling man.

" Charles, if simpletons deserved abuse, your father would have done away with you long ago. " someone commented.

" I wouldn't say that simpletons deserve abuse." the second lady commented. " But I don't think squibs deserve rights, either. They are just too...I don't know _blah_, if you know what I mean."

" Well, she is just odd. Half witted, half blooded. Not very attractive either, possibly greedy. And certainly a troublemaker, judging by all that row at the Ministry. My, my."

Another man spoke up then.

" I agree with Evangelina. She had no choice, and she was an outsider. Didn't know enough people to choose wisely."

" My aunts did keep her rather imprisoned here." Agnes said in a low voice. "Didn't they Philo?" her voice had a mean edge to it that suggested she had already paid her obeisance to a few cocktails.

" I wouldn't know." Philo's familiar voice said softly. " I believe she was just as free as any of us, and she seemed happy enough the last time I saw her."

" We weren't discussing her happiness." Agnes retorted. " I believe we were discussing how much of a stir her misbehavior has caused. "

" She must have been a lot more clever than people suspected," the one called Rebecca spoke up. " To drop Ashwell, the moment she heard of his outstanding debts. I say she was connected."

" I don't see how a squib could be connected." one of the other women commented.

" Well, she wouldn't have been any better off with him!" Charles laughed. " I can't see it myself, she was such a plain thing, compared to Ashwell's other amours. She's a fool if she thinks anyone of good status would marry someone of her looks and bloodline just for love. It's the money they want."

" You would know Charles. How is your new bride?"

" She's a damn fool." he grumbled.

" So what is it Agnes...?" drawled another man. " Is she an innocent enslaved in a cold marriage, or a scheming half-blood spy in our midst? Tell us all the details, and speculate on what you don't know. I hear there is an author here among us, and he might just be needing fodder for his newest, gothic sensation."

" Oh Desmond, how droll you are!" Agnes simpered. " How I see it is-"

Edward turned to Amanda, who was blinking away tears of indignation.

" I want to go home!" she whispered. He shook his head.

" No. I have a word or two for someone in there. " He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm, patting it reassuringly before reaching for the knob.

" Hold up your head, but don't say anything just yet, understand?"

She nodded warily.

He wrenched open the parlor door, and strode through arrogantly, as though he and Amanda had every right to barge in whenever they felt the urge.

They were met by several faces. One by one, the faces experimented with surprise, before progressing to embarrassment. Every person in the room, including Agnes, looked around at each other, to see if their companions thought he might have overheard their words. They weren't worried about offending Amanda, but it was bad form to insult the wandmaker to whom they might take their future children, or themselves if in need of that most indispensable of magical instruments.

Edward's expression seemed amiable enough, and a few dared to release a silent breath of relief. Only Philo seemed un-agitated.

Agnes stood, nervously smoothing her skirt.

Edward, you did come out of that musty old shop for the evening!"

" Just for a moment." he smiled. It might fool the others, but Amanda could feel the tension and anger seeping through his sleeve.

" Edward, I believe you know everyone here? And everyone knows you, am I right?" Agnes was awkward as hostess, a part she rarely ever played. She swayed slightly on her heels. " Mr. Fenwicke, Gladys, Evangeline Badger...?"

The group managed something unintelligible, and a few coughs, but they seemed to relax under Edward's smile.

" And of course," Edward piped up, before Agnes could continue. " _You_ have all heard of my enslaved child bride, Amanda?"

Every face went instantly magenta.

" I just brought her out for her weekly airing, isn't that right darling?"

Amanda suddenly felt herself fighting down a smile. It might be embarrassing to stand on display on front of a crowd that had recently been insulting her, but she would at least have the pleasure of witnessing Edward sear them with a little scathing wit.

She did as he had asked, and kept her head held high, and granted them all what she hoped was a smile both self-confidant and haughty, as though she cared little for their opinions of her. As she did so, she began scanning the room, examining the faces of her accusers and slanderers. She intentionally ignored Agnes, gave a brief smile to Philo Fenwicke, who appeared very morose and ashamed, suddenly.

Her gaze raked over several strangers, and came to rest on a splendid creature seated on the large settee.

As if Amanda's gaze was what the woman needed to animate her, she unfolded herself from the settee, and strode toward the newcomers. Amanda stared.

The woman was nearly three inches taller than Edward,and since Amanda only came to his shoulder, the woman was, to her, impossibly tall.

She had too, a slender frame, so willowy it seemed she might have contained less bones and organs than the normal woman, she carried it as though she were immortal, and the guest of honor at everyone's' table.

" Edward! " the woman exclaimed, and her rich voice was both appealing and commanding.

" Rebecca." Edward answered, his own voice suddenly flat.

Rebecca.

The one who had accused her of being a greedy spinster. This woman who had probably never had anyone call her unbeautiful. This woman who had never been anything less than perfection.

And she _was_ the very image of perfection, Muggle and Wizarding alike. Every aspect of her person suggested great care and diligence. Short dark hair stylishly arranged behind her ears, make-up applied in such a way as to seem non-existent except for the wide crimson mouth and the huge brown eyes that were smokily lined to cause them to burn in in her pale, angular face.

Amanda noted that the woman's body was no doubt partly a gift of nature, but also appeared to be purposefully leaned out by careful diet and regimen. It was clothed in a black silk pantsuit, the tunic shirt of which fell low off of one square shoulder, and was belted sharply around her very narrow waist. She stood barefoot, as though defying anyone to correct her. Her shoes were tossed carelessly to the side of the settee.

Ignoring Amanda's presence, this woman, Rebecca, took both of Edwards hands in her own well manicured grasp, and tilted her head ever so slightly so that her long earrings brushed against her bare neck.

" Isn't it good to see you again!" she said.

Edward extracted his hands a little forcefully, and took out his handkerchief. Dramatically, he wiped his fingers in the linen, while glaring down at Rebecca, wearing the same expression he might if he were dissecting a mermaid.

Amanda was suddenly overcome by a new, raw sensation.

Jealousy.

A great surge of jealousy that sprang directly to her breast making her feel angry, protective, and powerless. This _woman_ had touched her husband...and she was powerless to do anything about it. Or _was _she?

The room suddenly felt too warm, and her stomach began to roll about greasily. She became aware of the many colognes and perfumes mingled in the heavy air; the fragrances of the soot in the fireplace, alcohol fumes, and the reeking richness of the appetizer tray.

Taking a step closer to Edward, she replaced her hand on his arm. He paid no attention, as he was used to the gesture, but Rebecca did, and she smiled icily. Amanda had instinctively drawn herself up, and quickly assessed that the only feature she had more of than Rebecca was bosom, and even that was due to her present condition. She drew in a great breath to accentuate it, just the same.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

" And this is your new..._wife_. Isn't she a cute thing? And is that her real hair color?" she reached for Amanda's hair, and Amanda drew back suddenly.

" Oh, now...I won't bite. Will I, Edward?" she leaned close to whisper to Amanda." He can tell you, I've never bitten anyone too hard."

Turning back to Edward, she nodded her head at Amanda.

" Does she speak English? Agnes said she came from some heathenish jungle place."

At that moment, Eloise entered the room. Amanda had never been so relieved to see her tall, dry aunt, in her eccentric purple robes.

Eloise looked thoroughly startled to see her niece and Edward, standing in the parlor. A quick glance around the room must have told her something was dreadfully amiss, for she smiled in a dazzling fashion, and hastily sat down whatever she had been carrying so that she could encircle Amanda's waist.

" So glad you could be here. How are you Edward? Amanda...Have you met everyone? I see you have met Rebecca, yes. And of _course _you remember Mr. Charles Bumpp? He was at your wedding. And this Evangeline Badger, Lodric Badger's daughter, that is. And Gladys Whetstone, the artist. And young Desmond Dooley, his father is into brooms, you know. And being shy in the corner, is Philo Fenwicke, of course, talking with Gottfried Inkerbach, the author. Now if you will all excuse Amanda and I for a moment, I have something I have been dying to show her." the group made another non-committal noise, that sounded a lot like a groan of relief.

" Edward, I won't keep her a minute, I promise. Help yourself to a drink, and do tell Philo about the convention in Geneva."

Eloise ushered Amanda out of the door, and through a series of rooms, not halting until they reached the kitchen.

As soon as the door closed, she rounded on her niece.

" Amanda Rookwood? What are you _doing _here?"

" You invited m-me!" was this room hot too? She felt very dizzy.

" I what? I did no such thing! It isn't even my party. It is something Agnes devised."

" Oh...but your owl...she brought me an invitation three days ago. You said it was a small...small dinner with yourself, mother, grandmother, and Francy Suttlecomb." Amanda covered her mouth, trying to fight down the dizziness and nausea.

" It wasn't I!" exclaimed Eloise. " Why, Francy is in _Antartica_ at the moment. Writing some book about icicles! And_ I _would _never _have subjected you to...that woman for one thing. And none of the others either. Oh, well, excepting Philo and Geoffrey."

" Who _is _that woman?" Amanda asked. " She's horrible."

" Which woman dear?"

" The tall one, in black...talking to Edward."

Eloise was thoughtful a moment.

" You know, I bet it _was_ Agnes." she declared.

" No, not Agnes, the other woman."

Eloise pushed Amanda toward a chair.

" Sit down child you look a bit peaked." she sat as well." I mean that I believe Agnes must have set this ruse up, inviting you just because Rebecca was going to be here."

" I honestly don't understand. I have no idea _who_ Rebecca is, or why Agnes go through the trouble to invite me. And why is she here anyway?"

" First of all, Agnes is still convinced you took away her best chance at being married. Secondly, she blames you about poor Demogene. She took it much harder than anyone would have imagined. And Amanda...Rebecca is Dinah Blackmoor's sister."

Eloise waited as Amanda searched through all of the Wizarding names she had been bombarded with over the last three years. It sounded awfully familiar, but-

" Oh!" she exclaimed, sheepishly. How stupid, to have forgotten the name of her husbands first wife. She recalled then the letters in the upstairs bureau. She had given them no thought since that day; but now a little un-suppressed shudder coursed through her as she remembered some of the words written by the hand of the woman called Bec. _Rebecca._

" Apparently he doesn't mention her too often!" Eloise said with a dry laugh. " yes, Rebecca was Edward's sister-in law. She isn't dangerous, but she can be verbally cruel. I think Agnes may have wanted to embarrass you in front of her ' friends.' What she sees as a sophisticated joke, no doubt, a scenario from one of those novels she is always reading."

She summoned them both a cup of tea.

" She is absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Did...does Dinah look like Rebecca?" Amanda asked tentatively.

Eloise was taking a long drink, and replied absently.

" Mmm...That was one of life's little un-fairnesses to the rest of us women. Dinah was even lovelier, in her day.They called her the Beauty of Blackmoor. She had..." Eloise trailed off at Amanda's crestfallen expression.

" Now don't start feeling all jealous!"

" But she is _so_ beautiful." Amanda said, shaking her head. " I want to go home."

" You are going home. I'll go find Edward and explain everything.You shouldn't let yourself get so excited, you look all-"

" I don't feel well..." Amanda declared." I'm going to..." she stood, wobbling as the room began spinning and her stomach roiled.

Her aunt caught her as she was about to fall, and helped lower her to the cold kitchen floor. Quickly she wet a towel, and began wiping her niece's face.

" You are taking this too strongly. Edward cannot stand Rebecca, he never could. Besides, you have nothing to fear, for all of her talk. Rebecca tastes have always been voracious, and only for, shall we say, _unripened_ fare? Do you understand?"

Amanda nodded, but didn't really care at the moment.

The kitchen door opened just then, and Stella entered. She carried a half eaten bowl of popcorn in one hand, and an open book in the other. She had not been invited to Agnes' party, and was incredibly thankful. Reading, she did not immediately take in the scene before her, and had to tread on Eloise's robes.

Surprised, she hastily deposited the book and bowl on the table, and knelt beside her aunt.

Amanda blanched as the buttery smell of popcorn enveloped her.

" Amanda? Amy dear? " Stella cooed." What's the matter with her? Are you all right? Where is her husband?"

" I think she is fine." Eloise said. " She just met Rebecca Blackmoor in the parlor. "

" Yes, yes. But what are you doing here Amanda? Wait, what do you _mean_ Rebecca? Is she _here_? Oh great lords above. What did she say to you honey?" Stella began brushing Amanda's hair back.

Amanda choked back her nausea, but couldn't answer.

" Where is Edward? Did he bring you here? What was he _thinking_?"

" Stella...don't jump to conclusions. Agnes invited Amanda in my name, and...under false pretences."

" False pretenses?" Stella raised a disbelieving brow.

" She told her it was a small dinner with Francy Suttlecomb. Edward doesn't even know the truth yet, I saved Amanda as quickly as I could when I saw that Rebecca had already sprung." Eloise flexed her fingers in imitation of claws when as she spoke the last word.

" She called me...an ugly, greedy...spinster. Dim wit..." Amanda shuddered." Soo...sick..."

" Her nerves are too weak for things like this." Stella declared. " I'm going to send for Doctor Scuttlebeam...would you like something for your nerves, Amy?"

Amanda fought down the bile, and took her mother's hand. " No...I'm fine. I just got too overheated. "

" Rebecca upset you though. " Stella soothed. " Something for your nerves would help."

" Yes...she upset me, but really I don't need anything." she tried to sit up.

" Nonsense. At least take a glass of wine.."

" Ohhhh mother, I wish you hadn't mentioned wine." Amanda groaned, and lay back down.

" Well, cold champagne then? " Stella offered hopefully. She already had a glass of something in her hand, and was trying to press it Amanda's lips. Amanda pushed it away rather abruptly.

" Honestly, I can't drink anything!" she snapped in exasperation. Then added when she saw Stella's rather hurt expression, "I'm pregnant!"

Eloise and Stella both stared at her in disbelief.

" What!? Again, so soon!?" Stella exclaimed, bewildered. She sat back on her heels and bit her lip.

" Well, this isn't how wanted to tell you. We were going to t-tell you after dinner."

" Excuse me a moment." Eloise stood, handing the towel to Stella. " I'll...just see if I can save Edward as well."

As soon as her Aunt had gone, Stella, became agitated.

" Amanda...this really shouldn't have happened again so soon."

" May I have a glass of cold water?" Amanda asked." Thank you. It isn't so very soon, mother. It's been...a few months. " Though not many she added to herself after a hasty mental calculation. " I was hoping you would be happy."

" Well, I _am_ happy. But I also worry. I want you to have beautiful healthy children, but I wanted you to be strong and well recovered first. Edward should have understood that. Surely the Ministry would take into consideration the health of the mother involved before they start pushing that damnable contract! "

" Oh, mother...it doesn't have anything to do with the contract! This was a surprise for us, too."

" A surprise." Stella repeated.

" Yes. The Ministry gave us word that considering the...circumstances they were extending our time a full year. "

" Amanda..." Stella lowered her voice in the manner she always assumed when approaching a delicate subject. Amanda instantly squirmed. " I'll only ask one question, in the best way I know how. And it's only my concern for you that prompts me, because you know that you are my only baby. Your husband, he isn't treating you in any inappropriate fashion is he? Because if you were ever...if there was ever force or you needed help any of us would-"

" No! Edward would never do anything like that.Please believe me!" Amanda laughed nervously, coloring under her mother's scrutiny. " Not at all. " she lay back and covered her crimson face with the cold towel.

Stella nodded resignedly.

" Very well. But you aren't going home tonight. Tonight, you stay here, and let your mother take care of you again."

" That isn't necessary." Amanda protested. " I've been doing quite well...I just got upset."

" I insist. Now what are we hoping for, a girl, or a boy?"

" Edward predicts it will be a girl, with curly hair. I am inclined to wish for that as well. I can make so many pretty things for her."

The door opened again and Edward rushed in, followed closely by Eloise.

" Geneva convention..." he was saying in exasperation, " what was that all about?"

" A sort of code if you thought it over properly. " she replied pointedly.

" Philo?" he inquired. " Are you certain?"

" Yes!"

Edward dropped to his knees on the floor beside Amanda.

" Not again..." he murmured.

" I'm fine, really." she insisted holding up a hand to stave off any questions or comments. " I just felt ill, that's all."

He closed his eyes and breathed in a sigh of relief.

" But she is staying here tonight." Stella stated, before Amanda could protest once more.

" Why?" he countered.

" Because, I am her mother, and I _say _so. She needs rest."

" I am not a slave driver, she can rest at home, where she doesn't have to worry about Agnes."

" It's not a bad idea Edward, to let the girl rest here overnight." Eloise interjected. " I am going to see that Agnes, and Ms. Blackmoor are sent away _early_. Amanda is going to bed, and _you_ will have a chance to meet Geoffrey Inkerbach properly."

He shared a look of defeat with Amanda, who didn't care where she slept so long as she suddenly got to a bed. With the abating of the nausea a content sleepiness had settled over her.

" I'll stay the night. " she said, and tried to sit up again.

" Here." Edward stopped her and placed an arm under her knees and another under her shoulders.

" Edward!' she cried out, seizing his lapels suddenly. " I'm too heavy!"

The other women made a noise of fearful disapproval, and he fixed them with a menacing glare.

" When I am no longer capable of carrying my wife, I will cast the Avada Kedavra on myself. " he said, standing easily.

Eloise watched with one hand on her hip.

" Stella, would you see if I have any of that morning sickness draught left in the cupboard? It will only take me a minute to disband this little fête. Her room is at the top of the stairs Edward. Of course, all the rooms are at the top of the stairs...it wouldn't do any good to put them in the middle, would it? she said playfully.

After a stern look from Edward, she added;

" It's the fifth door down on the right hand side. What's wrong with a little humor occasionally? That's what I want to know." she muttered as he began climbing the kitchen staircase.

He took her up the stairs, and as soon as they were out of sight of Eloise and Stella, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

" What is that for?" he asked.

" Standing up for me." she replied, kissing him again. He had to pause as he couldn't see over her head. " You did stand up for me, didn't you?"

" Even if I hadn't I would lie about it under_ these _circumstances." he said, tasting her lips. " No, I defended you. If I were not a gentleman...I would have said a great deal more."

" I like you more as a gentleman."

When he lay her down on her bed, she was suddenly regretful that she had agreed to stay here overnight. He had never carried her to bed before, and she wanted nothing more than for him to join her. She pulled him down twice for a kiss, and briefly his hand fell to rest on the bare skin revealed by the dress' vee neckline.

" I have to go back down." he said, nuzzling the side of her neck. That was a cruel thing to do, and he knew it. Her neck was very sensitive, and even with that small caress, her pupils dilated and she began to breathe heavily, curving her breasts up against his hand.

" I want to go home..." she said huskily.

" And I want for you to rest." he said, pulling away reluctantly. " Are you sure you don't want me to send for a healer?"

" Are you sure you won't need me to send for a healer?" he asked.

" I'm sure. I was just very angry. And jealous." she admitted softly.

" Jealous of what?" he asked, as he tried to pull the covers down while she was lying on them.

" Of you! Well...of Rebecca. "

Edward dropped the sheet and a forceful, surprised laugh escaped him. She pouted.

" That is very flattering, but I assure you, you have nothing to worry about where Rebecca is concerned. I hear she only likes very young boys."

" That is what Eloise said." Amanda yawned delicately behind her hand. " Doesn't change a thing. At the risk of not sounding like a lady, I hate Rebecca."

" I've never liked her myself, not _even _enough to hate her. But she has insulted you, and now I shall hate her too."

" Thank you. "

" I wouldn't take a score of her for one of you." he murmured, so that she might not hear. He had never been proficient at expressing emotions, and having them sound sincere. Whether or not Amanda heard, she did not let on, but tried again to tempt him with her eyes.

He thought how lovely she was in a way Rebecca and Dinah had never been. Fresh, milky, and sweet. And more than anything, she was pure and virtuous in a world that had long been bathed in malice and rot; he asked himself again if a person such as himself had ever done a thing, a single good thing to deserve such a reward? He should have taken Agnes, he thought mournfully, he would have never loved her. And Amanda would never have suffered so much.

He shuddered to think of what would would happen to him, what he would be like now without Amanda.

" Aren't you coming back to me after you talk to Mr. Inkerbach?" her sleepy voice intruded on his thoughts, his memories in which he found no redemption.

He regarded her heavily. Her breathing had slowed somewhat, and her eyelids were heavy. She looked utterly tempting still. She had kicked off her shoes, and had one leg raised slightly to rest on the edge of the bed. The sight of her bare feet was more alluring to him than the thought of rampant nakedness. One of his many weaknesses.

" No...I don't think that would be wise. " He only tucked the sheet up around her chin and kissed her again. " Sleep well, Amanda. I'll rescue you tomorrow."

She smiled sleepily at him, and though she struggled against it, she was already dreaming before the door had closed behind him.

When Stella came up with a bottle of anti-nausea draught, she found Amanda slumbering peacefully, a half smile curving her lips. Checking that her daughter was alive and well, she extinguished the light and closed the door.

* * *

Crash-Dave Matthews 


	45. Chapter 45 Coquelicot

She said, "It's lonely here tonight"

She's always sad when she's alone

She said "I need you here tonight"

She couldn't wait 'til I get home

She loves me

And that's all I need to know--- 

* * *

**Gypsophila**

**" Are you going to sleep all day?" Winter asked, prodding Amanda's shoulder with a manicured finger. The older woman stood, fully dressed in a set of loud fuchsia robes, balancing a basket of folded linens on one hip. **

**Amanda bolted upright. **

**" What time **_**is**_** it?"**

**" Almost seven."**

**" In the **_**evening**_**?" she flung the covers back.**

**" No. In the morning. Does your husband let you sleep in this long?" **

**Amanda fell back to her pillow. Seven in the morning...how slothful to waste a whole morning, she thought facetiously. **

**" I thought I had **_**actually **_**overslept." she grumbled.**

**" Come on...get up." Winter urged.**

**" No leniency?" Amanda asked.**

**" Not in this house." Winter answered, with a smile. " Eloise is having a late breakfast, she wants you to join her." **

**Amanda stifled a yawn. She had forgotten that Winter ate breakfast at five o'clock sharp every morning, if possible, and usually everyone else in the house breakfasted then as well...if they wanted to eat at all. If Eloise was eating 'late', then she must have spent a great part of the night entertaining the guests she had allowed to remain. **

**" Where is mother?" **

**" She had some errands to run. To the stationer's, to the laundry, and to buy some more jam." **

**Amanda nodded, and kicked her feet free of the covers so as to rise. Winter's dark shapely brows rose dramatically, and she exclaimed a soft 'oh', upon seeing that her granddaughter had slept in her dress. To someone of Winter's sensibilities, such thing was almost an offense against Nature.**

**" You might have at least found a gown." she chided. '' All of your clothes are still in the closet, the ones you brought with you from America. Why don't you change into something a bit less wrinkled?" **

**Amanda had forgotten about her Muggle clothes, they belonged to a different, younger Amanda...yet she stumbled to the closet and browsed through them dutifully. In the very back was a black cotton tee. Her father had brought it back from Boston when she was It was soft, and beginning to wear thin, but if she borrowed one of Stella's skirts, she could make a temporary outfit. Her own jeans would no longer fit.**

**She excused herself to take a quick bath before facing Eloise and her breakfast. **

**Her aunt seemed rather groggy when she finally joined her. The table had only a saucer of toast, a pot of strong coffee, and a bottle of headache draught. Eloise took in Amanda's appearance with a bleary eyed curiosity.**

**" What is that **_**thing**_** you are wearing?" she asked, using her cigarette holder to point at Amanda's torso.**

**" A shirt."**

**" What sort?" **

**" Just a tee shirt."**

**" It looks...out of place."**

**Amanda agreed. It made her feel rather self-conscious. She was aware too that it did little to disguise her growing middle, and Stella's skirt was slightly uncomfortable beneath the bulge. Eloise offered her toast, which she accepted tentatively. **

**" I must say that I do apologize for last night." Eloise said. If Eloise apologized, it always sounded as though it were an effort to put forth. **

**" Well...we did barge in." Amanda replied, nibbling the toast.**

**Eloise took out a familiar envelope. It was the invitation to the party. **

**" Edward sent it over this morning so I could see for myself. Not that I doubted **_**you**_**...I just wasn't too certain it was a joke of Agnes'. There are **_**many **_**pranksters in the world. However..." she took out a second, identical invitation. " This is one of the blanks. I found it in Agnes' room." **

**" There was no harm done."**

**" Except to make a fool out you. And in **_**my**_** house. I cannot explain, without a physical demonstration, just how angry that makes me." she smiled sweetly. **

**" Why was Agnes hosting a party here? Why not at her glorious Umbridge Manor she was boasting of?" **

**" Didn't you hear?' Eloise snorted. " Adelfried the Magnificent gave her the boot a month ago."**

**" He did?" Amanda dropped her toast.**

**" Well...temporarily. She showed up on the doorstep in tears, saying that she was miserable. I took her in, of course, and after a solid hour of amateur dramatics, she did manage to tell me the reason for her evacuation. "**

**" Which was?"**

**" He was going away to a secret meeting, Purebloods only. He wanted her to remain behind and keep up their appearances, but he locked her out of his house, saying he couldn't trust a half-blood in there alone." Eloise gave a tight, rather evil smile. "**

**" That's awful...I mean, Agnes doesn't strive to be the nicest of persons, but I don't believe she deserves **_**that **_**sort of treatment." **

**" Well, that's generous of you. But I'm afraid I gave her a similar treatment last night. I gave her the money to board somewhere else, though. She didn't even ask why I was sending her away, but she **_**was **_**furious about my causing her embarrassment in front of what she considers to be an influential circle of friends. Hmmph. She **_**wouldn't **_**even have the decency to find her **_**own**_** circle. That's why she had the party here...it was the only way to get Inkerbach, and Gladys Whetstone to attend. " Eloise paused long enough to draw in an irritated breath. **

**" Rebecca Blackmoor however...she must have invited her specifically with wicked intent. That woman has never stepped foot in my house. I'll wager that she would have invited Dinah herself if she could have. Amanda...I do not understand such antipathy."**

**"Well, it does not sound as though her alliance to Umbridge is as pleasant as she flaunted." Amanda noted. "Maybe she is just unhappy?" **

**" You know, it seemed to me rather suspicious that Agnes did not have to get pregnant. I asked Edward if he still had a copy of the marriage lists, as I thought that perhaps Adelfried Umbridge was not listed. After all, he doesn't seem to have any particular redeeming feature that anyone would need carried on. Any way, Edward gave me the list, and Umbridge **_**is**_** listed. " **

**" Then...why did **_**they**_** not have to meet the law?" Amanda added more as a statement than a question. " I had been so preoccupied, I had not even noticed. "**

**" I suspect that sister of his is tampering from within the workings. I just can't see to what purpose." **

**Amanda gave a small sort of shrug. She couldn't fathom a government without a little conspiracy somewhere in it's workings. She wondered sometimes if it was even her business as an outsider to be concerned. Beyond a reasonable point, at least. She had spent years striving to be a well educated person, and had learned everything by rote. In those days, a subject unknown would have thrown her into a frenzy of research, but recently, she had softened in her self discipline. **

**She watched as Eloise fitted a cigarette wrapped in a dull gold paper into her ivory holder. She bought the second most expensive brand available in the Wizarding world, made from exotic tobacco grown on special islands where the farmers had all taken a vow of silence. This was supposed to make the tobacco more mellow, but it was most likely the unethical use of ground unicorn bone as fertilizer that gave the herb is tingling taste. **

**" Some day I might ask you about that that holder. " Amanda stated, once more admiring the tiny carving.**

**" And one day, I might answer you in full. " Eloise said, smiling. " The fact that it was a gift should suffice for now." **

**" The artwork...it has a meaning, doesn't it?" **

**" All artwork has a meaning." **

Amanda rested her chin in her palm.

" Does Agnes really hate me?" she asked.

" Yes." Eloise answered frankly. "It's very simple. Your arrival ruined her plans. But it wasn't really your fault, as I made the arrangements. She is pretending that it was your _marriage_ that inconvenienced her, when really her greatest concern was over my _money." _

Amanda looked a little uncomfortable at the mention of the ill-fated inheritance.

" I've never spoke to you directly about my will, Amanda, but I have always meant to. Since we are alone, at least, if we can pretend Winter doesn't exist which was never hard for me..."

Winter took her sister's hint.

" Oh, you needn't pretend, O sister. I shall simply vanish. "

" Winter! How did you know that was what I have _always_ wanted?"

Amanda bit her lip as her grandmother stood, certain her feelings must be wounded. But Winter seemed to think it was a great joke.

" That's fine, Ellie, dear. I have some finishing touches to add to your _birthday present_ anyhow."

Eloise's face grimmed considerably, and she gave Winter what might have been a silent plea as she swept past.

As soon as the door closed, Eloise blew out a ragged cloud of smoke and her chin almost quivered with some excitement.

" She _knows_! She does! She just _knows_ that is the one thing that pesters me beyond reason! Every year, she starts creating a birthday gift _months_ before the date, and teases me with it-and no matter how hard I look I can_ never find it!_ And it is hidden right here in the house! That's the real insult.Sometimes she buys a new one the day after my last birthday, so it just sits here, for 364 days!"

" Did you try to summon it?"

" Of course I _did_. I try every year, but she always remembers to protect it." she glanced around the room as though it might provide an unexpected clue. " Now, what was I saying? Oh yes...about Agnes and the money.

I want you to know that it isn't a phenomenal sum. Agnes thinks I have millions stashed in that moldy old vault, but that's not true."

Amanda simply waited.

" Well, fortune or no, it was my money, and it was hard earned. I never had any children of my own, and Agnes and Demogene were the closest of my nieces and nephews. Except Rogero, of course, who is sick, and Stella, who had moved away. I found myself in a predicament,as I could not trust Agnes, and because of the great influence Agnes held over Demogene, I could not trust her, either. The money would be spent; the house would fall into ruin, be sold, or worse, become a hideout for those _people_ she seems to adore."

Eloise made an expression of great distaste.

" When I called Stella back, it was with every intent to groom _you_ to be my heir, but I found you to need little grooming. You were quite the lady, and much more poised than I could have hoped for. I should have told you the truth then; but I really did not think that it would cause such discord. "

" I only discovered if from Martin, and I was upset."

Eloise shrugged.

" That little toad...I suppose Agnes is the one that passed that information along to him,and she wouldn't have known it had she not been eavesdropping on a discussion between Winter and myself. What I want you to know, is that I am declaring you as my heir, because I trust you to keep the house in order--I know you love it, and to take care of Winter, and your mother, and Rogero as needed. Also, to be certain that Agnes gets her portion. I suppose she should have Demogene's share as well...it just seems correct. I could never _not_ include her, you understand, I've been her keeper since she was just a little girl."

" I...it's really difficult for me to do this, Aunt Eloise. I'm not very capable, I know little about finances--"

" Nonsense. You'll do, and you'll do well. Don't try to be modest about it. And for pity's sake, don't shy away from the conversation. It's not as though we are discussing something vulgar, it's a frank discussion about money. One day I will die, I'll place my affairs in your hands, and you will act and think wisely in my stead. See how simple that is? "

" Yes, Aunt Eloise."

" Good. Have some more toast. Would you like an egg? You know, I have always known that Agnes was slightly mad. She has already been...well I hate to say ' locked away', but that is what it was. She threatened Demogene, she threatened her own child. All that time...I never suspected Demogene was just as...unhinged."

Amanda patted her aunt's hand, as the other woman seemed on the verge of an almost human moment. She gave Amanda a brief smile and recovered her composure.

" Think of the time and money it would have saved me; I could have had all three of them, Rogero, Agnes _and _Demogene institutionalized at the same time. Perhaps they would have given me a discount." Eloise said, lightening the mood.

Amanda nodded in amused agreement.

" Mother never talks about her brother. What happened to him?" she asked, glad to avert Eloise's attention from the subject of wills.

" Ah...well, she might not want me to say." when Eloise used that tone, it meant she was fully prepared to divulge someone else's secrets without a trace of _true_ remorse. She just needed proper goading; clever temptation. Amand knew just the right word to use.

" Please?"

" Oh, well, since you are begging me for it. I can't really see the harm in it, either. See,it was an accident. Rogero was accidentally...well, they don't really have a word for it. Jinxed, I guess you could call it. "

" By whom?"

" _By_ whom is not so much the question, as _because_ of whom. Have you ever heard of a man called...Princeton Garrett?"

Amanda drew a sharp breath.

"_Father?"_

" Yes."

" Go on."

" Well, there really isn't that much to say. Rogero didn't want Stella to marry a Muggle, Stella and he began arguing, and apparently your father, ever the gentleman, stepped in when Rogero began to get slightly physical. Rogero went to hex Princeton, Stella stepped in front, armed...and Winter intervened. "

" So...Winter jinxed him?"

" Or Stella. Well, we aren't sure. His _own _spell may have ricocheted. "

" What happened to him?"

" He lost a few memories."

" Is that cause for committing a person? I thought that should only be done if they were harmful."

" It's rather about what _particular_ memories he lost..." Eloise's thin mouth twitched in a sardonic smile. " See, he is undergoing treatments, that is why he is kept where he is. Winter and I tried keeping him _here_ after the accident, and caring for him, but he was a little too..."

" What?" she could tell it secretly amused her aunt, whatever it was.

" Well, Rogero believes himself to be a frog. And that was something we just could not have people gossiping about."

" A frog."

" His treatments are rather expensive, but over the years, he has been taught how to speak again, and how to walk upright. They tell us he is making remarkable progress...on his good days."

Amanda wondered whether her aunt might be teasing her, but another glance at Eloise face and she could discern a faint hint of concern. She was being optimistic, when she knew perfectly well that Rogero would never be the same.

" Will they be able to cure him?"

" No. I don't think so. Not completely, or without a miracle. One day, they might let him come home for a visit...but I don't know that the change might not addle his poor wits even more. He was a good boy, really. A little hot tempered, a little snobbish. But all of us Purebloods are, occasionally. Especially then. "

" Mother never said."

" Stella was very young. She had not finished school yet, and knew that she would be in trouble with the Ministry. Even more so because she had implicated a Muggle. I don't think she would have received more than just a reprimand, since Winter had been involved as well, but her biggest fear was what would happen to Princeton. Obviously, the Ministry would Obliviate him, and he would forget about her. So...they eloped. "

" Poor Grandmother! She lost her son and daughter, right there at the same time!"

" Yes. She was agitated for a great while, and there might have been a permanent rift...had it not been for you."

" Me? What did I do?"

" You were _born._ Winter traveled all the way to Louisiana, in secret to see you. None of the Garretts knew of course, but she and Stella solved all their differences then. You were another continuation of the Rookwood women, an unbroken line for one-hundred and seventy three generations. There are fewer and fewer women in the line. Yourself, Berenice, and Astarte; the granddaughter of my sister Leda, are the only females of your generation."

" I didn't know that." Amanda liked Aunt Eloise in this mood, and was about to goad her into disclosing more family gossip, perhaps what Eloise's other sisters had been like, when Stella burst through the door.

She was out of breath, but perfectly groomed even at that ungodly hour of the morning; her slender arms full of packages.

" I am going to sew a dress." she informed Eloise as she dumped the packages onto the table, and removed her oversized sunglasses.

Eloise had what was most likely a salty reply on the tip of her delicate, pointed tongue, but Amanda spoke first.

" Good morning, mother."

" Good morning, dear. Well, you _do_ look better." she felt of her forehead just the same. " Did you eat?"

" No, I made her sit there without food while I ate." Eloise said, sweetly. " It's part of my new household economy plan. Guests must bring their own toast. Write that down Amanda, when it is your turn to handle the finances, you will need to know all the best tricks."

At the mention of money, Stella pulled her chin to one side, in what could only be called a 'yikes' expression, in the Muggle world.

" Oh, don't talk about economy, I think I just spent my allowance. Do you know how much they were charging to remove the wrinkles from the sheets? We could save money there Aunt Eloise, by just having them cleaned. I can remove wrinkles very well myself. With an iron, if needs be."

" I refuse to sleep on wrinkled linens. If we are ever that close to destitution, then I'll sell one of you for magical research."

" Oh, you couldn't live without us!"

" Better than having someone comment on the shameful state of the bed sheets."

" No one has seen your bed sheets in years." Stella laughed.

" My dear, they might if I didn't have such a houseful of chaperones."

" Well, don't let us stop you."

" Quiet now Stella, you are embarrassing Amanda."

" I'm not embarrassed." she argued. She gave them a reproving look.

Stella stepped behind her, and began smoothing back her hair, preparing to twist it up into something.

" That's right..._she_ doesn't know about such things."

Eloise winked at Amanda, and she colored despite herself, aware of her conspicuous belly. Stella took out her wand and froze her daughter's hair into place. Then she began rummaging through her sacks. She took out a bolt of something green, and showed it to Eloise, who made a polite sound meaning that Stella should never show her that shade of green again.

" Well, I think it is beautiful. I want a dress out of it. I think I can do by hand, too. And then what I have left, I'll make a baby dress. What do you think, Amanda?"

" I think it's pretty enough."

" We'll match." Stella said perkily, and Amanda was relieved that in the hours since she she had first told her, Stella had again become ecstatic at the thought of a grandchild.

" What if it's a boy, Stella? "

" Then...we'll have it altered."

" The robes...you mean?"

" Of course the _robes!"_ Stella tossed the bolt down indignantly. " You are in an impossible mood this morning, Aunt Eloise! Your party must have been a success."

" After it became _my _party of course it was a success." Eloise responded, giving her chignoned hair a saucy pat. Still, both she and Stella shared a look of disgust for the course of the prior evening.

" And what about that Whetstone woman?"

" Gladys? I brought her around to my way of thinking before an _hour_ had passed. Geoffrey was a great influence there. And Philo, bless him. I take back anything I might ever have said about _that _young man. "

" Why?" Amanda asked, " What happened?"

" My dear, I don't know what you and Philo used to talk over, but he apparently holds you in very high regard, and gave an absolutely glowing appraisal of you to Gladys. With Geoffrey's and my help, he soon had poor Ms. Whetstone believing she was always an activist for Muggle rights. She left here last night in one of her moods, prepared to create some masterpiece commemorating the Great Struggle. "

" It sounds as though Gladys was quite taken with Philo."

" Yes, she was. But then, there are a great many persons taken by Gladys, so perhaps she will spread some of her influence in a constructive way." Eloise stood then, straightening her robes.

" And now, I have to see to some things. " she said, looking agitated, and bright eyed. Amanda suspected that she was going to attempt a surprise attack on Winter, in hopes of discovering the hiding place of the mysterious birthday gift.

Stella and Amanda fell into comfortable conversation, as Stella unrolled her material and began using her wand to cut the pattern shapes out.

" I thought you were going to make it by hand?" Amanda asked.

" Oh...well, I'll _sew_ it by hand. But if I cut the patterns by hand then I will have all of those dismally small fabric pieces to pick out of the carpet later. Here, be a dear and pin these for me. "

Amanda gladly accepted the pieces and the kneazle shaped pincushion, and they fell to chatting about Agnes, Philo, and the new baby; keeping themselves occupied late into the morning. At nine o'clock, Crisp brought a note from Edward saying that he would be there at noon, and since that was still three hours away, Winter decided on an early lunch in the garden, where the soft fragrance of white roses clung around the four women like a soft veil.

After lunch, they sat in companionable silence. Winter worked a drop spindle, and it made Amanda very drowsy to watch the wooden shape spinning to and fro; Stella was sewing rapidly, her silver-thimbled finger working the needle through the sea of green fabric so smoothly it looked like magic; and Eloise, not to be outdone by Gladys Whetstone, had dragged out her easel and paints, and was fussing over her palette, trying to find the right shade of orchid.

Somewhere inside of Amanda, a tiny human being made it's first noticeable movement, as soft as butterfly wings. It's mother, feeling this little ripple, placed her hand over the gently curve, and began to hum; the sound being so soft that it was lost in the outside world, with it's insects, and motorists, and the wind in the trees, but deep within herself, it was heard. The baby fluttered again.

-------------------

Edward, though still quite upset over Rebecca's audacity of the night before, was in very high spirits about having met Geoffrey Inkerbach, the author. Apparently, they had enjoyed quite a evening of conversation, and Edward now owned an autographed copy of Inkerbach's newest book, " The Grim", which he wouldn't let Amanda read, due to her condition.

When she could see that a determined pout would not achieve anything, she gave in, and began asking questions instead.

" When Eloise came in last night, she told you to tell Mr. Fenwicke about the convention in Geneva. When did you go to _Geneva_?" she gave him a rather stern look. He had told her that the convention in Poland was the first he had attended in fifteen years.

Sheepishly, he waved his hand.

" Eloise! She was attempting to be clever.I've never been to Geneva, my dear...it was only a code."

" Geneva Convention. I see..." she smiled at the word play . " But what is it a code for?"

" For certain people who..." he paused and regarded her closely. " For certain people who choose to work against the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A sort of coalition of persons willing to be watchful, and pass along helpful information."

" Spies."

" No. Spies are much more adventurous. These persons are merely watchful. There are spies, too Amanda. Both sides have their spies, and watchdogs, and networks.Two sides, both of whom are wrong as often as they are right, I am afraid."

" Which side are you on?"

" That..." he said with what sounded like remorse, " was the most difficult decision of my life, I'm afraid. Both sides were intriguing. Both right. Both Wrong. Yes...it's all a matter of perspective. "

He seated them both.

" On one side you had power. Incredible power...and such promises for Purebloods. Oh, but it would have been horrible as well. Absolutely devastating. Nothing the other side had to offer was near so appealing. What could they offer except their word that it was the right way? What is right? What is wrong? I was very fortunate--I never had to choose sides. I don't believe at the time, that I could have done so, with the best intentions. "

He paused to see if Amanda would speak. She had no need. There was only in her gaze the fierce glaze of understanding, the complete neutrality that only a person born outside of that world could assume in all innocence.

He continued.

" I am afraid that I am not all good, Amanda. No one is, not even you, though you must be the closest to goodness I have ever beheld in a grown human. Before...before the law, and before you, I would have made my decision based upon pride. Cowardice. Generations of standards bred into my very bones. I would have allowed the social stigmas of our culture to influence my mind, regardless of where my heart of soul might have stood. But now..."

" Yes...?"

" In my mind I am still uncertain. In my character, I am still ambiguous. In my actions...I can only say that I have decided, and please do not ask me to explain in detail, for I cannot, it is too complex--I have decided to follow what I believe is right. And that is the best that a man can do. Do you understand?"

" I do. And what's more. I agree. A human should only do what they can. "

Her eyes shot back to the purple and black cover of Inkerbach's novel; with it's tantalizing depiction of a buxom redhead having her throat torn out by a black dog-like figure. The cover itself was provocative enough to cause sensation, it was an expensive moving picture. The grim leapt from a crouching position and latched onto the succulent expanse of the girl's exposed neck, his claws ripping her scarlet dress. She fell backwards over a log, a breast falling from her bodice, the nipple erect in her death throes. Blood sprayed from her severed jugular, splashing the 'screen', and the grim raised it's head and leered at the reader.

After the woman ceased twitching, the picture faded behind the curtain of blood, before replaying the lurid scene once again.

" That painting is horrible." Amanda said, carefully relinquishing a conversation that was causing him some discomfort.

" Disturbing beyond all reason." He agreed, tucking it under his leg. She was thankful. She had read a book on grim's, after having read an article about one in the Quibbler, and she had felt a chill of superstition at the idea. It reminded her of the haints the Creole women used to talk of. Of hell hounds, doing no good for anyone who ever looked into their eyes.

Another shiver passed imperceptibly over her form, and she was suddenly overwhelmed with an idea that something important was going to happen in the near future. Something very important.

* * *

Lyrics-Chicago 


	46. Chapter 46 Ilex

_**You've got the most unbelievable blue eyes I've ever seen**_

_**You've got me almost melting away**_

_**As we lay there under blue sky with pure white stars**_

_**exotic sweetness a magical time**_

_**I love you always forever**_

_**near and far closer together**_

_**everywhere I will be with you**_

_**everything I will do for you---**_

_**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

June came, and Amanda spent most of her time, in one shop or the other. Edward did not like the idea of her staying home alone, and she was still refusing to replace Polly, but she didn't relish the idea of being alone either. If she felt she needed more rest she would spend the day at Rookwood. Or if she wanted to stay at home, Stella would visit and pretend to be dusting when really she came to gossip.

Amanda was slightly surprised at her belly. It had grown more than she had thought possible. By the time July began, her back began to ache, and she was convinced it might be twins. Everywhere she went, her belly went before her, and was in the way...she had to walk down the narrow streets of Diagon Alley sideways to keep strangers from bumping into her, and she had to place her feet on a chair to tie her shoes.

Amele came three times in two weeks to expand her dresses, then gave up and made six new ones that were charmed to expand as needed. Edward had added a low, soft chair to the shop in Diagon Alley for her to sit in, despite her assurances that the other chairs were fine. Instead of being allowed to sit at the high counter to do the books, she was relocated to the office where she work from her soft chair. In the village shop, he transfigured a short hard bench ( the sort to make waiting customers fidget in hopes they might buy more in their impatience)into a soft padded bench that she could lie back on if she felt dizzy.

It was usually nicer to be in the shop, she decided, as Edward was only a few steps away and was always peering in to ask if she needed anything. He would not allow her to clean the shop, and she watched ruefully as it grew dusty again; the floors dulled by the constant traffic of hard wizarding boots. She was amazed really, at how many wands were sold every week. One would think that the major demand would only be once a year when the first year students began trickling in for their first wands, and the occasional replacement or repair for older wands.

It was actually quite amazing, and in her opinion, quite sad, that so many witches and wizards were careless with these instruments and were always losing them or breaking them. No matter how often Edward explained that each wand was a unique powerful object suited to the individual, there would always be a careless person who left it in the rain, or let their pets chew on the handle, or dropped it from their pocket while riding their brooms. Adults and children alike were constantly purchasing second wands, just because they had misplaced the one, and were too lazy to search for it properly.

Edward would always seethe when a woman explained how hopelessly lost her wand was, or when a man shrugged, not caring that he had stepped on something that had taken days of hard toil to create. Edward's voice would change from his soft, flittery shopkeeper's voice, to the stern tone he took with persons he considered disrespectful or obtuse.

The wealthy in particular, seemed to make a habit of being careless. Just at the end of June a very distasteful customer had returned only hours after her purchase, to buy another wand for her son...a blond, pointy faced boy who smirked haughtily at Edward and Amanda as he waited impatiently. Apparently, he had snapped the first wand in half after a tantrum over a sporting broom and his mother was cajoling him with a new wand, and the broom, which he had clutched in one paw.

" I don't want _that _wand..." the boy whined when Edward tried to fit him with a hazel wand. " I liked the _other_ one. I want one that is _ebony!"_

" I would like an exact match." she announced coldly, her lip curled nearly to her nose. Even so, her words were beautifully spoken.

Edward had restrainedly told the woman that a _wand_ was not a toy to be broken whenever a child felt a whim, and that he had no other exact match to that _wand _because all the _wands_ were different.

" Do you know who I am?" she had demanded, imperiously. " _Madame Malfoy_! My husband is _Lucius _Malfoy..." she reeled off his importance status, and Edward listened patiently, but not without a grim expression. Then he offered her three choices.

One was to let him repair the wand, which would make it less powerful,and very irascible. Two was to let the boy be fitted with the next wand. Her third choice was that she could simply go to his competitor in Liverpool, who often made mass quantities of similar wands for just this reason.

He managed to imply that the such wands were inferior to personalized wands, knowing that she would buy the replacement simply because her family and her husband's family had bought their wands at Ollivander's for seven generations, and not even a spoiled heir could dissolve such _touching _devotion to family tradition.

She bought the hazel wand, but she looked absolutely murderous when she left, no doubt with every intent to tattle to her husband...for what it was worth. After her visit, Edward had looked unutterably relieved, and closed the shop early.

----

The middle of July began, and every day seemed like several, as Amanda grew more and more excited about the baby. The desire to see it and hold it made the wait seem interminable, so she took to diverting herself through poetry. She read poetry, and she wrote poetry. She wrote little soft poems for the baby. She wrote little stories and family anecdotes. At the piano one day she composed a simple melody that could pass for a lullabye. She worked for weeks to write the perfect set of words to accompany the tune.

One Sunday morning, Edward and Amanda were lounging in the garden, enjoying a luncheon of cold sandwiches, fruit, tea, tomatoes and cheeses...anything that was in the pantry and not too difficult to prepare. At least, Edward was enjoying it. Amanda had long ago ceased feigning interest, as she scribbled thoughtfully in a notebook she had propped against her knees. Her feet rested on a small stool, and she had tucked the skirt of her long white dress under her hip to prevent the lacy train from dragging on the dirty stones.

He had read the entire paper, noting who was to be the Defense against the dark arts teacher at Hogwarts that year. He asked her if her tea was fine, and she had answered with a barely audible, " Mmhmm..."

She gave the same answer to several other questions he asked, including whether or not she was bored, and whether or not she believed that a plague of green tongued Toe flies had invaded the Highlands. Pressing his lips together in exasperation, he reached across the small table, and placed a finger on the corner of her book. When she did not look up, he gave a gentle tug on it.

Amanda raised her eyes in surprise, blinking.

" I'm sorry...did you say something?"

" I asked you if you were _bored." _he repeated, trying playfully to take the notebook. She held onto it a moment, and then relinquished it suddenly, laughing when he nearly dropped it into the fruit platter.

" No. I'm not bored. Are you?"

" Hmmm...?" he asked, browsing over her writing. It was series of rhyming words, and couplets pertaining to daffodils and moonbeams.

She tried to take a drink of her tea, only to discover it had grown cold over an hour ago. Not being able to reach the teapot easily, she stealthily pushed her cup across the table to sit beside his plate, and then slowly slid his own cup of freshly poured tea toward herself, where she added another two cubes of sugar and began drinking happily.

" I say...are _you_ bored?" she asked again. He looked up, his small round-rimmed reading glasses slipped down over his long nose.

" Me bored? No...not ever. But I do worry about you. " he frowned.

" Worry! That's a strong word. Even if I were bored...nobody has ever died from boredom."

" That's where you are gravely mistaken." he stated. " Why, several thousand people die of boredom every day!"

" Oh? And can you name one?" she asked, propping her hand in her chin.

" Certainly. My great Uncle Fitzhubert. "

" He died of boredom?" she asked, skeptically.

" He did. He had a reputation as being a sensible man, so it is generally assumed that had he not been bored, he would never have ventured into that dragon cave."

Amanda struck at his hand in mock annoyance.

" I cannot believe you!" she exclaimed, laughing just the same. " Did your uncle really die in a dragon cave?"

" Of course not!" he said cajolingly. " He died in the center for magical burns."

She shook her head and settled back into her chair, pulling the plate of cheese closer.

" See? How I could possibly be anything less than fully entertained?"

" I am serious though." he said. " It seems as though you would be shut in, you can't go anywhere or do anything...sometimes I really do feel as though I am holding you prisoner."

" Don't start being absurd." she said, firmly. " I am doing exactly what I have always enjoyed doing, except now I can do as I please without having to worry with all of those stifling social expectations."

He frowned slightly.

" Truly." she added. " I promise that if I ever have a moment of unrest, you will be the first to know. Until then, let's not spoil a perfectly good Sunday with foolish concerns." she smiled to soften the harsh sound of the words, and to let him know that she did appreciate the concern.

" If I'm ever completely bored, you _must_ know...so that you can keep me away from dragon caves."

------------------------------------------------------------

It was a Tuesday. To Amanda, it was merely an ordinary Tuesday. She had cleaned Crisp's cage, sent a list of linens to the laundry, and ironed the dresses that had been laundered the day before. Thankfully, though her iron was an antique iron that came with the laundry room, she could heat it with her wand instead of the stove, and it would maintain a perpetual, even temperature.

After the ironing, she had prepared lunch, and then accompanied Edward back to the shop, where she began working on the mending...a task that her wand was not equipped to manage. Occasionally she pulled out the needlework cushion she was making for the swan chaise. She had found a lovely selection of threads in shades of soft coral and pink, and was working bargello in the ribbon pattern.

Having finished mending the cuffs of two shirts, three sheets, and the hem of her favorite blue dress, she had taken the needlework out and threaded her needle. The shop bell rang, just as the thread slipped through the eye, startling her slightly. It was the first time the bell had rang all day, and in the silent shop it sounded twice as loud as usual.

She listened, out of simple curiosity, and because she had no choice. The sounds from the front of the shop were magically carried to the backrooms via a special spell. There was a slight pause before she heard Edward's soft "Good afternoon".

He was answered by a childish voice.

It was still early in the year for the children to be buying their school supplies.

" Ah yes, " she heard Edward say. His tone was now pleased, and rather excited. " Yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter."

Amanda looked up, intrigued. Who was Harry Potter? And how did Edward know him?

" You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday that she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

She was slightly surprised to hear no response from the child. Usually, Edward's trick and eccentric flair caused them to vocalize surprise and awe.

" Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it--it is really the wand that chooses the Wizard of course."

There was still no response, and for a moment, Amanda wondered if he might not be just chattering to himself again.

" And that's where..." he paused, " I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands...well, If I had known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

Amanda dropped her needlework into her basket, and crept to the door. She was not a nosy person by habit, but there was something in Edward's tone that suggested this was more than an average customer. Besides, there was nothing wrong with her overseeing a business transaction, even if it was from behind the door.

She crept quietly across the floor, and stationed herself where she could see through the crevice between the door's hinges and the jamb.

At first she saw nothing truly remarkable in the front room. Only a small, skinny boy, with messy unkempt hair. He looked to be very poor. His clothes were old, and ill-fitting.

Edward turned suddenly towards the window, and exclaimed, " Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again...Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

" It was sir, yes."

Amanda put a hand to her mouth as she took in the sight of the giant figure seated in the standing in the shadow. She had never seen anything like him! He was seated, and yet nearly as tall as the window casement. His head was very wide, and half-hidden by an enormous shaggy, black beard. Despite his size he seemed uncomfortable, and rather shy.

" Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" Edward sounded a little severe.

" Er--yes, they did, yes." the giant said, appearing embarrassed. " I've still got the pieces though."

' But you don't use them?" Edward demanded, sharply.

" Oh no sir." the other said, gripping a pink umbrella that he held in one massive fist.

" Hmmm..." Edward seemed not to believe him entirely.

She knew that meant the man was using his wand illegally. Edward would not approve, but he also would not breathe a word of the crime. He would simply see it as inevitable that a person could not relinquish one of his creations!

" Well now--Mr. Potter. Let me see. " Edward said, back to his flouncy shopkeeper voice. He pulled the tape measure from his pocket, and began the next part of the ceremony. " Which is your wand arm?"

Amanda didn't watch, she was more fascinated with the giant man lurking by the window. He seemed to fill the entire shop, and she wondered who had been brave enough to snap his wand?

She listened to the familiar sound of Edward's voice, extolling the virtues of an OIlivander wand.

" Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the quite the same. And of course,you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

She thought of the Malfoy child, and wondered how well he would do in school with only a second choice wand? Her eyes were drawn to Edward as he hurried to the shelves and began digging wildly through the boxes. Running his hands over the boxes as though feeling out the wand's instructions. He took down several.

" Right then, Mr. Potter, try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

The boy gave the wand just a tiny bit. He looked very hesitant to try. She was used to the wizarding children who very enthusiastically whipped the prospective wand around in delight. This boy must be Muggleborn.

Edward took the wand back and dropped it on the counter. He thrust another into the boy's hand.

" Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try--"

No. He was not satisfied with that one either.

" No, no--here, ebony an unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches, springy.Go on, go on, try it out."

Amanda bit her lip in expectation. It was always exciting to see the wand 'work' for the first time, and she was hoping it would be the ebony. It was such a beautiful tool. She knew that he had intentionally kept the ebony wand from the Malfoy boy, he would have wanted it simply because it looked exactly like the one he had petulantly broken. Let it be the ebony...she thought.

But it was not the ebony. They continued like this for some time, Edward obviously getting a bit irritated that he had not pulled down the correct wand in his first five attempts. The counter grew cluttered with open boxes and wands scattered here and there. It would be all evening cleaning up.

One of the wands caused a glass vase, filled with decimated flowers from a hundred years ago, to shatter and splash water all over the floor.

" Tricky customer, eh?" Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere--I wonder, now--yes, why not--unusual combination--holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

The boy took the wand, looking skeptical at first, but then suddenly, his face brightened, and Amanda knew that he had felt 'it', the magic, coursing through. He raised the wand, suddenly less shy, and brought it down again with a flourish.Red and gold sparks shot from the end, lighting up the dim room.

The giant man began to carry on, excitedly, and Amanda had to resist the urge herself to begin clapping.

' Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good, Well, well, well...how curious." Edward exclaimed, as he replaced the wand in it's box, and began wrapping the package in brown paper.

" Sorry, ' said the boy, " But what's curious?"

Amanda was keen to know that as well. Though she had never witnessed him sell a holly wand, she knew it must not be that rare, and it was more than likely that the majority of the wands sold contained phoenix feathers.

" I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in this wand, gave another feather--just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand, when it's brother--why, it's brother gave you that scar."

Mr. Potter's eyes widened at that remark, and she wondered if it was calculated to have that effect.

" Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter...After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things--terrible things, yes, but great."

The boy said nothing, only stared at Edward, wide-eyed during the speech, and afterwards he paid quickly for the wand. He and his companion left without another word being spoken.

Edward leaned on the counter, and frowned, watching out the window as the pair ambulated away. He drummed his long fingers for a moment and then said. " Why don't you step on in, Amanda, I know you are _there_..."

His tone was not reprimanding but amused.

Just as when she was a small girl caught eavesdropping, she considered dashing back down the way, and feigning innocence. That was absurd though. Not only did her size prevent any sort of 'dashing', her decorum would not allow for it unless it was the utmost emergency.

Patting her hair into place, she stepped out, and joined Edward behind the counter. He turned to regard her a moment, but he was clearly thinking of something else, and eventually he gave his head a ragged shake as thought o clear it.

" Do you know...who that _was?" _he asked.

" Not specifically. " she admitted. " is it anyone important?"

" My dear, he is more than important. He is infamous. A legend before he could even speak."

" Who is he?" she asked, puzzled.

" Why, _He--is the Boy -Who-Lived_!"

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Lyrics-Donna Lewis

Ilex-Holly, a powerful plant that signifies death and rebirth.


	47. Chapter 47 Centaurea

**If I were a carpenter,  
And you were a lady,  
Would you marry me anyway?  
Would you have my baby?--**

* * *

--Centaurea--

For the next few weeks, Harry Potter was all anyone seemed to want to talk about. Somehow, everyone managed to know something about him. The news of his 'return' had spread faster than a case of Dragon Pox, and persons who had chanced to meet him in the pub were soon gossiping in the streets. People who had seen the famed scar were soon exaggerating the experience.

A woman who called herself Doris Crockford popped into every shop and cafe along the way, excitedly telling people about how she had personally shaken the hand of the Boy-Who-Lived. The number of times she had achieved this miraculous feat seemed to increase slightly as she progressed down the street. Four times was the number she told the man standing outside of Eyelop's, but by the time she had reached Ollivander's, she had shaken Harry's hand a dozen times.

Amanda, after learning everything about the boy and the death of his parents and the dark wizard, Voldemort, soon lost most of her interest. To her, it seemed that that the event must have been a magical accident.

She might even have thought it was the fault of the wand that had been used, if she did not know the quality of Ollivander wands. Now, the wand may have been damaged in some manner, that sort of thing caused wands to behave strangely all the time.

But to even suggest such a thing would no doubt cause a rise of indignation in Edward, whose only reason for being interested in the deaths of James and Lily Potter was the great part his wands had played. On both sides.

Amanda had never extracted from him a definite answer about his loyalties during that time, the best she could assume was that he had been passively neutral with a penchant for flamboyant wand work, regardless of the circumstance during which it was achieved.

Neither could she say for certain what side he was willing to take in the future. She was loathe to think where she herself stood, or where she would stand if she had been fortunate enough to be born as a true Witch. Considering the more lenient view that Eloise and her mother took on the issues of Purebloods and Halfbloods, she imagined that had she been raised here, she too would have been less prejudiced, and perhaps less diffident. Perhaps.

Before long, she discovered that how a person felt about an insurrection that occurred eleven years ago, was unimportant in comparison to how those same persons felt about the return of Harry Potter.

Eloise chose to be thoughtful, and not too excited about the event. She, Winter, and Edward seemed to find something utterly disturbing in the reappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived. When Stella inquired into this, Eloise only answered,

" We can expect things to begin happening once more. Terrible things."

" That's almost exactly what Edward said." Amanda had stated.

Winter and Eloise had only nodded at her.

" Yes." they agreed glumly.

" Our world might very well being on the edge of doom. Just waiting for the wrong Wizard to nudge it over."

That was Eloise's final word on Harry Potter.

-------------------------

Amanda did not have much time to ponder this prophecy of despair. She had developed the urge to ensure that her house was immaculate, and was satisfied with no less than two thorough cleanings per day.

The shop as well, was cleaned and dusted, much to Edward's dismay. He followed her around constantly, fretting about her falling, or exerting herself too much.

To her own surprise, she felt fine and adventuresome, brave in her belief, and Healer Thoroughgood's word that everything about her was perfect. She gained ten pounds, and Edward lost twice the amount, which was twenty pounds more than he had to spare.

By the end of August the rest of the children began coming for their wands, rushed into the shop by procrastinating parents who dared to look harried and impatient when it took too long to fit the child with a wand.

Many of them kept glancing at watches, or moon calendars, as if the first day of school were going to approach them stealthily if they did not keep a constant eye on it. It was delightful to see the children's faces though; some shy, some awed, some knowledgeable and expectant, as they were measured and tested, and finally fitted with their own wand.

" That is why I do not retire." Edward stated one afternoon, as a particularly exultant young girl with bushy hair left the shop, clutching her wand box to her chest as though it contained Cleopatra's jewels.

The girl had given them both an hour long lecture on wands, and had delighted Edward by knowing the entire history of Ollivander's, including some details even he had misplaced.

" What a bright girl." Amanda had agreed. " She will no doubt go far, with that mind."

It was obvious the girl was a Muggle. Her parents stood huddled by the shop door, the mother's hand on the father's arm as if restraining him form seizing up his daughter and fleeing back to reality.

The girl had not only a list of things she would need to purchase for the school year, but also a list of things and people she had read about, and needed to see while in Diagon Alley.

" How do they know so much before they get to school?" Amanda mused at Edward.

" I imagine that the Headmaster, or maybe someone from the Ministry, notifies them earlier than other students, and supplies them with the proper literature. One can only imagine how unsuspecting parents would act..."

Amanda, recalling her own outright disbelief when her mother explained, gave a slight nod.

" I wonder if there are any Muggle children who do not get to come?"

" Oh, assuredly. There are always parents who refuse." he sighed. " I've seen them get so far as Flourish and Blotts, and then suddenly decided that it's all much too questionable and dangerous. They demand their guide take them back, and the children are simply never seen here again."

" Well, I believe Ms. Granger will keep her parents convinced of the positive aspects."

" Oh yes. A true delight. There is nothing quite so refreshing in this tired world as a bright, inquisitive child. I winder if she'll be the last for the year? It seems that enrollment is off this year. Not so many as last year, or heavens, the year before! There must have been three hundred!"

Of course, that is why the Ministry stepped in with it's blasted law...they both thought.

Enrollment.

----------------------------------------

That afternoon, as she was sweeping the pavement in front of the shop, she watched what must be a first year boy approach the shop. He looked up at the sign longingly, and then pressed his round, kind, face to the window.

" We're still open, if you would like to go in." she stated, startling him. He turned to her and smiled shyly.

" Oh...well I can't. I mean, I don't need a wand. I...I'm supposed to use my father's wand."

Amanda could just imagine Edward's words at such a statement.

" Are you sure? " She asked, softly. " I've heard that it is better to have one's own wand."

The boy blushed.

" I wish I could." he said. " But my Gran...well, she wants me to use my father's wand."

" I see. " she smiled. She felt sorry for him; he obviously wanted nothing more than to enter the shop like the other children and have his own wand made. " Well, I am sure your father's wand is very good too. You'll do just fine with it."

He looked up at her hopefully.

" Do you think so?"

" Of course."

" Neville? NE-ville? Oh there you are!"

From across the street the loud and demanding voice of a green-robed woman reached their ears, causing the boy to wince slightly. He watched as the woman marched across the street, the absurd stuffed vulture on her hat bobbing madly with her every step.

" What are you doing over here?" she asked, out of breath. " And are you worrying this woman? Can't you see she is in no condition to be worried?"

" I was just looking in the shops." he said.

" Good afternoon." Amanda offered, smiling at what must be the boy's grandmother.

The woman nodded her head, not in an un-friendly manner. She seemed to be a little flustered, but not unkind.

" Good afternoon. Isn't it a close crowd today, though? He wasn't worrying you? Well, come along Neville, we still have to buy a cauldron." she gave another nod to Amanda, sweeping her with the obvious gaze of a gossipy woman who was unsure to whom she was speaking.

Neville said goodbye, and followed his grandmother down the street.

Amanda raised her hand to the boy, and suddenly the baby began kicking so frantically, that she had to rest against the wall for a moment, surprised. It was the first time in weeks that she had felt anything more than a few weak flutters or lazy jabs.

" Is anything the matter? " she heard Edward's voice at her shoulder. A look of glowing concern was easily stamped across his weary features.

She smiled.

" Not at all. Just resting a moment."

He took her arm.

" Let's go inside to do that. You've been on your feet all day." he led her in and summoned her chair. " Was that Augusta Longbottom I saw out the window?"

" I don't know. She wore a hat with...well, with a stuffed vulture on top."

" Ah, yes. That was her. Did she have the boy with her?"

" Yes she did, but--"

" She isn't going to bring him in, is she? She is so unbearably stubborn! Fir! I remember. Fir, eleven and one quarter inches, with dragon heartstring at the core. Stubborn! "

" You know her then?" she asked, partially teasing.

" Everyone knows Augusta. Or rather, Augusta makes herself known to everyone. Yes, she lost her son, and his wife to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, eleven years ago. They were Aurors, and from what people said, good ones. Good, but not good enough, sadly. "

" The boy is an orphan then."

" Not exactly. His parents are in St.Mungo's. Addled by too many curses, I believe. "

Amanda thought of her uncle Rogero. If they had been there for eleven years, then they would never be leaving. That, perhaps, explained the lady's determination that her grandson would carry his father's wand, and even more so the look of stoic complacency that Neville bore.

" He said he was going to use his father's wand."

Edward winced visibly.

" After her son was attacked, Augusta brought his wand in to be examined. She wanted to know whether or not it was still functional. It was, of course. But she told me then that she wanted to be certain, because she intended to give it to the boy. I tried to argue her out of it. " he looked worried.

" Using a cast off wand, unless it is under specific circumstances, is dangerous. It could be said to account for nearly a third of all the accidents that occur. I had hoped that she would change her mind in the intervening years, if only for his sake. He'll never be up to par in his lessons with a shoddy second-hand wand. They never are."

He frowned, thinking of the youngest Weasley son, who had just been denied the same pleasure, and was using a brother's wand for his first year. What a devastating way to begin, he thought. Devastating!

It wasn't as thought he didn't understand that large families and their sometimes meager savings; he offered payment options, but to the Weasley's, cheerful as they were, it was too much like charity and they had stubbornly refused. Stubborn. Why must he be surrounded by stubborn people?

" What are the specific circumstances in which it can be used?" Amanda asked, rubbing her belly where the baby was still actively attacking. She wondered if perhaps it had not had a nightmare.

Edward was happy to answer.

" Well, any Wizard can take up a wand and use it--something will happen. It is usually not strong or predictable. But if a Wizard wins a wand, then he, or she, can use that wand as though it were their own. In essence it becomes their own, turning over it's power."

" Win in battle?"

" No, in anything, even a petty school skirmish.''

" Does it have to be death, or merely disarming?"

" Interesting you should ask. That question is still under much debate; I was speaking to another Wandmaker about it in Radom. My own theory is that in the past, it had to be an utter defeat, simply because wands were made with the expectation that people would duel, and die. Now, when it is considered is such poor taste to kill your opponent, regardless of how serious the situation...the wand simply accepts a disarm. The owner's mentality, as well as the maker's, and society's must have an influence. I've heard it told that some Wizards can even win them in gambling debts.''

" Edward?"

" Yes?"

" From what wood is your wand made?"

He looked surprised, and rather delighted that she had asked.

" Why, it's walnut." he answered, and drew it from his pocket for her inspection, realizing she had most likely never had a good look at it. She took it carefully. It was heavier than her own, and longer. It had been meticulously cared for, but even so, it showed the signs of many years of daily handling. The handle was polished smooth, and slightly darker than the length, caused by years of contact with skin oils.

A few shallow marks, scratches and what looked ot be one slight gouge, lent it a personality of it's own. She noticed that the gouge was rather triangular, with a feathery scratch veining out from it and leading around the decorative lip beneath the quillon, dividing handle from wand. It was built for practicality, no fancy ornamentation or carving augmented it's straight body.

Though she felt no magic in it herself, it was comfortably warm and exuded a sort of familiarity. Amanda was reminded of the day the house had recognized her, and she placed it back in his palm with a smile of contentment.

" It feels good." she stated honestly. " Who made it?"

" My father. Just as his father made his, and I intend to make hers." he indicated Amanda's midsection with a nod.

" As is only fitting." she agreed, wincing a little as the unborn child attempted a somersault, and as a result, connected with her ribs.

--------------

Later that evening, after they had eaten dinner, they sat in the library on the sofa. It was still too warm for a fire, but Edward had started a small one just the same, before settling down to read aloud from ' The Old Curiosity Shop'.

They were to have no peace though as the baby, once deciding to move, had decided to continue, and eventually this tired Amanda to the point where she had to lie down.The next morning, she was too tired and sore to leave the house, so Stella came over to sit with her.

" You'll be having that one soon." she predicted. " I say...the day after tomorrow. August the 29th."

Amanda shook her head.

" Absolutely not. It's not until the eighteenth of September."

Stella looked at her skeptically.

" I wouldn't count on that, if I were you." and she Flooed Amele, who agreed that it would not be too long. Amele helped 'ease' Amanda's fears by relating her own experiences with birthing, none of which had been shorter than three days.

" You are probably closer than you think, yes?" she laughed. Amanda refused to believe it was so, and the twenty-ninth of August passed without any excitement. Stella sniffed at her lost prediction.

September began.

The children of the Wizarding world went to school.

On the sixth of September, an owl delivered the Daily Prophet, which delivered the news that someone, ( or as was possible in the world of magic, something) had broken into Gringott's bank on July 31'st.

This caused a great deal of unease with the bank's many patrons, Gringott's was supposed to be virtually impregnable; no living person had ever heard of someone cunning enough to deceive the goblins, and people began to speculate that their embarrassment might have been partly responsible for the delay in publishing the article.

Edward and Eloise were not the sort to care whether or not the goblins were embarrassed. They were irritated that they had not been informed sooner. After the article's printing, the bank warned everyone that if they rushed in, they would lock the doors against them.

" Everyone is urged to come in an orderly fashion." they had written.

" Three hundred years." Eloise had called through the Floo, on the eighth. " Three hundred years, that's how long the Rookwood's have graced Gringott's with our business, and this is how they repay us?"

The unexpected arrival of her angered face in the fireplace had contrasted well with Edward's seemingly calm, thoughtful exterior as he buttoned the cuffs on a set of outer-robes.

" I am going there, momentarily." he said. " Will you accompany me?"

" I've been. " she stated flatly. With a wave of her hand, it was understood that she did not have a gleeful meeting there.

" Is Stella there with you?"

" I'm sure she is...yes. Just here."

" Have her step through and wait with Amanda."

Now that the Amanda's time was approaching, he had not suffered her to a moment's peace without supervision of any sort. She was, in his opinion, very drawn, and she tired easily. This was true, and she had decided that in her present state, she was too ungainly to attempt the staircase more than necessary. Therefore, everything she needed was upstairs when she was down, and downstairs when she was up. What she wouldn't have given to be able to use summoning charms!

" She says that she will be along within a half hour. " Eloise said. Then seeing his look of exasperation, she tilted her head and shook it in mock sympathy. " Just a half hour. Surely Amanda can survive for only one half hour. I'll lie here in grave discomfort...on the cold hard floor, and keep an eye on her."

" Do not trouble yourself madame." he replied. " Stella can come at her leisure." and under a wave of his hand the fire,and Eloise's grinning face disappeared.

With only slightly noticeable trepidation, he kissed his wife, and left her reclining on the swan chaise with her feet propped, so that he could check over their holdings, which, though his business was successful and well respected, was not a glorious amount of money.

Certainly not enough that they shouldn't worry over thieves despite the goblin's reassurances that only one vault had been opened. Edward mentioned something about withdrawing a certain sum and placing it in another bank; against any future mishap.

After he had gone, in his flutter of burgundy robes, Amanda gladly lay back and closed her eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well the past few nights, the bed no longer seemed large enough or soft enough. As she dozed she wondered why someone would wish to break into an empty vault when there were plenty containing gold, jewels, and a priceless amount of treasures and heirlooms.

She had a dream then, in which the she was riding the cart at the bank, and she was terrified and cold. At the end of the track, instead of a vault, she was in a small room with pink curtains. Everyone was there, and they told her that she had to smile. Then her mother stood up and said that the ride was over.

" ...let you sleep on that couch. Your legs are going to fall asleep." her mother's lips were not moving.

" That's funny." Amanda answered her.

" Wake up. Come on." Stella shook her shoulder gently. " At least go lie down on the library sofa, so your legs won't dangle. You know what your Grandmother Garret would have said."

Amanda blinked awake.

" I was dreaming that our vault had pink curtains." she stated.

Stella smiled.

" That's revolting."

" Vault decorating! That could be the newest trend, Estella! " Winter exclaimed, stepping from the Floo behind her daughter. " I could convince all the wealthiest Witches Narcissa Malfoy even! Oh..." she halted her babble to look down on Amanda's dress.

" Is that...green, my dear?"

'' It looks more yellow to me." Stella said. She took up a handful of the cool, satiny-knit skirt.

" Yellow-grey-green."

" It's crawling with pomegranates."

" It's comfortable." Amanda insisted. She sat up, and rubbed her lower back.

" And that couch was never so uncomfortable." she noted, stretching. Winter and Stella were bickering over something in a shopping bag.

" What is it?" Amanda asked, swinging her legs so that her bare feet could rest on the floor.

Winter hastily closed the bag.

" Something for your Aunt Eloise."

" Her birthday present?" Amanda smiled, mischievously.

Winter tossed her head.

"I had to buy a new one. She found the last one. "

" She did! Well, it was bound to happen."

" Well, actually she finagled that horrid Philo Fenwicke into finding it for her. "

" I thought you liked Philo."

" Not if he is going to be that way. What is it, dear?"

Amanda rolled her shoulders, and grimaced.

" I don't know. " she answered. " All stiff, I suppose, for sleeping here. "

She slapped a hand against the coral fabric before taking two attempts to get to her feet.

" I feel all...

Her eyes widened, and she sat down quite suddenly.

" Oh, mother..." she said, in quiet astonishment. " I think I am going to have the baby!

There was the sound of something breaking as the shopping bag fell from Stella's hand.

---------------------

**Author's Note: **

**Hmmm... evil grin should I continue the story, or just...leave it?  
**

* * *

Footnotes:

The Old Curiosity Shop-A novel by Charles Dickens


	48. Chapter 48 Nelumbo

How does it feel to be

One of the beautiful people?

Now that you know who you are

What do you want to be?

And have you traveled very far?

Far as the eye can see.

How does it feel to be

One of the beautiful people?

How often have you been there?

Often enough to know.

What did you see, when you were there?

Nothing that doesn't show.

Baby you're a rich man,

Baby you're a rich man,

Baby you're a rich man too.

* * *

Edward had arrived home just in time. Just in time that is, to see Stella stuffing his wife through the Floo, while Winter came flying down the staircase with a huge bag in one hand and her wand in the other.

" It's time!" she informed him, and stuffed the bag into his hands. For a moment he merely stood, bewildered. He watched, mouth agape, as Winter Flooed herself to Rookwood, and left him alone, with Amanda's bag.

Amanda's little violet bag that she had packed and unpacked a hundred times over the last month. He unlatched it and peered inside. A tiny pair of striped pink and white baby stockings met his gaze; the sight of them suddenly making the enormity of the situation real. Amanda was gone to have their baby, and he was just standing there with her bag.

Stumbling to the fireplace, he fumbled out a too large handful of powder and threw it hard into the fire. The flash was too strong, and it expelled him back into the room; he had forgotten to name a location!

He had landed quite painfully on the rug, which was now covered with Floo Powder. Sneezing once, he rose to his knees, then his feet, and reached for the pot again. This time, he managed a proper amount, but his hands were trembling so that he knocked the ceramic pot, with it's Egyptian hieroglyphs towards the floor.

He was gone in a flash of green, leaving the remainder of the Floo powder to settle calmly, before the pottery had even shattered,

--------------------------------

The healers of Saint Mungo's, perfectly hygienic in their starched green robes, kindly positioned him outside, in his old familiar corridor, where he had plenty of time to think with great discomfort, on the previous three times he had been in that position.

Once, of course, had been when Elias had been born. That seemed like a century ago, in another world. It was difficult now to recall how he had felt then. He knew he had been summoned from the father's lounge for a brief obligatory visit to Dinah and the infant. Had he been smoking? Yes, smoking, and talking with another man.

At that time, what he felt was mostly curiosity. He had good cause to disbelieve the child was actually his own offspring, and therefore had great difficulty in being excited.

By the time he had seen Elias for the first time, Dinah had already made her decisions for the future...and from these, Edward was sadly excluded. He had held the squalling infant with no pleasure, listening as she informed him of her intentions to return to Blackmoor, and take her son. Her son. She never called Elias his son, unless she wanted something.

He was never their son.

The second time he had paced this hall, it had been with Amanda and their infant daughter. That evening he had been merely shocked and petrified. They had thrown him physically from the room at that time, and he had stumbled stunned and disbelieving up the corridor for hours, certain that Amanda would die, and it would be partly his fault.

But Amanda did not die. Though she had appeared frail she had recovered twice from two abruptly ended pregnancies, and all of the ghastly accusations, complications and tumultuous emotions that accompanied such events.

She had survived, when Dinah, who had been so hearty and bold, had complained that Elias had nearly killed her, and that she would need to 'get away' to find her health. That had been over forty years ago...he wondered grimly whether or not her 'health' had eluded her entirely.

From inside the room, Amanda cried, out, and he clenched his teeth. He was supposed to be in the father's lounge, down the hall, where he couldn't hear those sounds issuing from behind the warded door. He knew it was warded; he had struck it in frustration earlier.

The lounge was several paces further from her than he cared to be, yet it was completely nerve wracking to listen and not have the means with which to comfort.

Someone came out once and told him to sit down, that the child was alive, and healthy; that Amanda was alive and healthy----but it might take hours, days even, to be born. He had successfully remained seated for almost forty-five minute, but cringed when he heard Amanda whimper. The sound cut through him physically, and he took up pacing once more.

------

" Amanda! You have to calm down." Stella said, wincing as Amanda crushed her arm. Amanda had gone into a brief fit of hysteria, angry and scared.

Stella's maternal admonition made Amanda frown, her face twisting into a horrible shape as she fought off another pain.

" Wh-where is Edward?" she asked.

Stella bit her lip, and shrugged.

'' I'm not sure...do you want me to see?"

" No need for that. He is outside." the healer's assistant stated, dryly.

" Why is he out there?" Amanda demanded in an almost accusatory tone.

" Because he cannot come in here!" the woman replied indignantly, but she shifted uncomfortably under the young mother's glower.

" Why can't he? " Stella challenged.

" It simply is not done." The woman replied.

" Don't be ridiculous...they allow fathers in the room in America, and most likely the entire world. "

" This is not America, nor the entire world. That is a Muggle practice, but when one is talking of a room filled with persons of magic, it is too dangerous."

Amanda squealed in discomfort, and rolled onto her side, holding her pillow.

" Mo-other..." she groaned.

" Here...what is it?" Stella wiped her daughter's forehead.

" Tell Edward that I am all right...please?" she asked. Her eyes glittered, and her face was pale. Stella nodded and rose to her feet.

" Tell him. " Amanda urged. " He'll be worried."

Outside, Edward could hear the dialogue between Stella and the healers assistance, but not what Amanda said. She gave an exclamation that was not a cry, so much as a protestation , and the Healer said something to her. She reiterated by calling him something ugly, and Edward leaned against the door.

When it opened, he stumbled against Stella, who shoved him back out in surprise.

" Sorry." they both said, and she stepped out and closed the door almost all the way. He suspected that she did that on purpose, allowing him the briefest view of his wife's face.

" She wanted me to tell you that she is fine." Stella said awkwardly. She herself was developing a grudging degree of approval for Edward. " You know, you could have barged in." she stated.

" I tried. The door was warded from the inside."

Stella smiled.

" They would have only thrown you back out, I'm afraid. They say you can't come in."

Amanda's voice was strained as she answered a question for the assistant. Stella glanced back over her shoulder.

" Winter and Eloise were supposed to come back. Have you seen them?"

He shook his head absently.

" No."

" Well, if you do, please tell them that everything is well. I know it doesn't sound that way, but truly, it is. "

" I am very sorry." he said. " But I have something else I need to do first."

Stella frowned.

" What--?"

But suddenly, he lunged forward, and shouldered the door from her grip. Lifting her off of her feet, he placed her where he had been standing, and stepped into her place in the doorway.

" I have the feeling I'll be right back." he said, and shut the door in her face before she could protest.

Now that he was inside, he crept to Amanda's side, and held up a finger to his lips. She held out her hand and he took it. The healer had stepped into another room, and his assistant was studying some confusing charts in the corner.

" I can't stay but a moment." he murmured, taking out his handkerchief and wiping back her strawberry hair. She smiled up at him, and he thought what a strange cruel beauty nature was. Woman, made so that man could not resist her, then forced to bear the punishments and consequences of man's lust, for which man blamed her. How could such tiny frail bodies suffer so much, and yet, ask so little?

She wasn't hurting enough to scream yet, but he saw the arching of her back, and felt the bite of her nails in the back of his hand. She didn't want him to see her being so weak; it was only a few hours into the ordeal.

" That's a brave girl..." he offered, as her body relaxed.

The Healer returned too soon, and seeing him there, began waving his arms frantically; the motion was taken up by the assistant who began a disapproving chatter at Edward. He relinquished her hand reluctantly, and deliberately gave the healer a difficult time. At last Thoroughgood took out his wand and pointed it directly at Edward.

" Please step outside.I do not want to have stun you."

Amanda raised up on her elbows and told Thoroughgood not to dare, and Edward decided that for her sake, time was come for him to relent. He gave her one more look, one more reassuring squeeze of her hand, and a slight bow before opeing the door.

Once again Amanda saw the gleam of mischief that he had worn when breaking Eloise's wards. There was just enough time for Stella to squeeze back through before the door was slammed shut and warded once more.

-------------------------------------------

Several hours passed. Eloise and Winter had appeared right after he was thrown from the room and Eloise had been highly amused to discover the reason for his sulking mood. Winter was irritated because it had taken her nearly three hours to locate her sister, and finally found her at tea with Gladys Whetstone.

" How did you get so far in so short a time?" she had demanded in exasperation.

" What has you in such a foul temper?" Eloise had laughed.

" You! Having tea...when Amanda is in the hospital!"

" In the hospital? Does that mean...?"

" Of course! Come along!"

" I am! Why didn't you say so to begin with? You and your dramatics! How is she?"

" Her? Oh...I'm not sure, I only popped in for a moment. She was fine then."

" Lord save us. How is Edward?"

" The last I saw of him, he was pressed face first against the door, listening."

" I see."

Eloise had then extinguished her cigarette, and taken her leave of Gladys, who was painting a large abstract castle, using her hands to apply a thick layer of paint.

If Winter's concern was Stella and Amanda, then Eloise's was for her friend, and as soon as she arrived, she took control.

Thoughtfully, she summoned three chairs and some refreshments, and the two sisters sat down to wait with him. Occasionally the assistant would appear to say that it wasn't over, but that everything was Simply Wonderful. She always used a cheerful, irritating voice that made it sound as though Amanda was not suffering simply because he couldn't see her.

After the third time, Eloise had finally said, " Is that the only tone of voice you possess?" which was not the most friendly thing to say, but she had long ago become impatient with the woman's unwillingness to share detailed information.

Once Stella came out to rest, and secretly indulge in half of Eloise's cigarette before returning. She looked exhausted, and rather drawn, but smiled in excitement.

" She's a lot tougher than she seems. " she admitted. " Right now, she's dozing a little. "

" How is that possible?" he had blurted out, and Winter gave him a patient explanation, while Eloise listened attentively, also curious to know how a woman could do that.

An hour or so after Stella returned to the room, Edward dozed for awhile himself, leaned against the wall. He learned upon waking that the day had changed. Night had come and gone without their knowledge, and hearing this, he began pacing again.

" You know, women don't die in childbirth anymore." Eloise snapped eventually.

Her earlier calm had shattered; now she was just as nervous as he, and she had gnawed her knuckles almost to the point of bleeding.

He didn't grace her with an answer, but looked instead to Winter.

Winter, who had given birth to children, sat easily in her cushioned chair, knitting daintily at something. She looked up and smiled at him, and more than the healer's words, that smile served to soothe him.

When she indicated the chair beside her, he sat. Now that he was sitting still, he could tell they had silenced the door sometime while he slept, because now he could hear nothing whatsoever, and that was even worse than the very bloodcurdling screams that had begun late the evening before. Those screams had made him realize that her earlier protestations were only whispers in comparison.

" How much longer can it possibly take?" Eloise finally blurted. " It's been days!"

" It's been only twenty three hours." Winter corrected. Both Edward and Eloise winced at that. Twenty three hours? How long had it been with Elias? He couldn't remember because he had been smoking in the lounge, and talking to another father-to-be. They had been talking about the weather, and Quidditch, as if nothing particularly wonderful had been happening only a few doors down.

Edward had just lit a cigarette when the door opened, scaring them all. He hid the offensive object away, and hoped no one smelled the smoke from where it was burning a hole in his cuff. Healer Thoroughgood didn't take any interest. He strode out and shook Edward's free hand. Stella appeared behind him, grinning from ear to ear, like a cat with cream on it's whiskers.

Eloise and Winter came to their feet.

"Ah! Everyone is awake. That is wonderful. You can go in now. And I am sorry that I threatened you earlier. That's it...go on in." he ushered Edward toward the door.

" Is Amanda..?"

" She is fine! Tired, of course, very tired. But she wants to see you."

Stella stepped out, so that Edward could enter, and closed the door behind him. He approached the bed slowly, peering into the softly lit corner. The room had been rearranged since his brief visit the day before. Now it was a small, comfortable bedroom, with curtains on the window, and a dim lamp beside the bed. Amanda was propped halfway up on a pile of soft pillows.

There were dark circles beneath her eyes, yet she grinned just as her mother had, and beckoned excitedly to him.

" Come look..." she whispered, and gently pushed aside the blanket so that he could see the face nestled in the crook of her arm. It was pale and impossibly still, and for a moment he was sure it was dead. He exhaled in relief when the child suddenly opened large eyes and began moving it's tiny mouth.

" Boy...or a girl?" he whispered, touching a tiny fist.

" Your daughter. " she answered proudly.

" Charlotte."

" That's right. Lottie."

" Oh, just look at her. Yes...just look at her. Why, isn't she beautiful? " he exclaimed, excitement and relief flooding him, washing away the tedious hours he had spent outside. He pulled the side chair closer so that he wouldn't have to stoop to examine the babe.

Amanda began struggling to sit up straighter, biting down a grimace as she moved.

" Shouldn't you lie still? " he asked.

" I want to sit up." she replied. " Here, hold her."

" Oh...well, I don't think I can...it's been rather a long time and--oh, I see." he sighed as Amanda lay the child in his arms.

" I don't believe she will mind." she smiled. Now that her arms were free, she could help herself up, hiding the fact as best she could that she was utterly exhausted.

" What shall we put with Charlotte?" he asked, rocking the tiny being slightly.

"I was thinking of September. It is my family name, and she was born in September. Oh, what day is it?"

" It is now the ninth. And Charlotte September sounds nice together. Don't you think so?" he asked the tiny bundle. Charlotte September responded by closing her eyes, and yawning.

" She likes it as well." he said, replacing her beside Amanda, whose hand he took carefully into his own.

" And how are you?"

" Happy!" she admitted. " Give me a kiss...I've worked very hard for us."

'' You should be resting." he said, kissing her lightly.

" I did. They made me rest for an hour before they would let you come in. " she pouted out her lower lip.

" They did? Well...I suppose that was for the best." but he felt a little disappointed that they hadn't rushed right out to share the news.

" I suppose." she agreed, " I want to go home."

He laughed, brushing back her loose hair.

" I know. And we'll see what we can do. Do you want to see Eloise, and your grandmother? They are probably most curious."

She nodded.

" Yes...and...couldn't I get something to eat? I am starving!"

" Anything you want. Even if I have to smuggle it past Thorogood."

She grinned.

" Is he angry with you for sneaking in? '"

" No...well, perhaps a little."

" Thank you...for trying at least." she squeezed his hand. " I know...I want a cream pie. Chocolate cream pie."

" Are you sure?" he asked skeptically.

" Oh, yes! A big one." she held out her hands to indicate how large she wanted the pie. He hoped she was only exaggerating.

" Very well...chocolate cream pie it is." he pressed his lips to her hand, and stood. " I won't be able to bring it until tomorrow, I'm afraid,"

" That's fine." she said. " But don't forget..."

" I'll let the others inside." he took another look at the bundle as Amanda lifted it into her arms once more. An impossibly tiny foot escaped from the blanket, the toes spread in what might be indignation. He reached out and touched the sole with awe.

" She is so very little." he commented. Amanda, who had just spent twenty three hours delivering her, held a different opinion on that matter, but she discreetly kept it to herself.

She was too enamored with the little beauty to dwell on her earlier discomfort. Soon, she was surrounded, as Eloise and Winter burst into the room. Stella followed along shortly, having refreshed her self with a cold face washing amd a cup of very strong coffee, heavy on the sugar.

Edward stood back during this female ritual, watching as the Rookwood women cooed, and touched, and held his daughter. Winter coddled her with the practiced hands of a mother, but Eloise was even more hesitant than Edward to hold her. It was the first newborn she had ever beheld, and though she was trying to be polite, a look of bewildered curiosity crossed her face while regarding Charlotte's unshapely face, and red-mottled coloration.

" Her eyes are quite blue." she said at last, struggling for something polite to say.

" All babies have blue eyes" Winter said.

" Not all babies."

" Yes they do. They'll change color."

" What about her hair, will that change color as well?" Eloise mimicked Winter's voice affectionately.

" I'm not sure. Stella and Rogero were bald. "

" Thank you mother." Stella groaned.

Eloise passed Lottie back to her grandmother, and wiped her hands nervously on her scarf.

" Well...she most definitely does have hair."

Stella rubbed the small head, where several dark curls were covering the delicate scalp.

This continued for sometime until Amanda yawned, and the baby began to make strange noises. They let Edward have a moment more, and he promised again that he would visit her first thing the next morning.

" With a pie." she urged in a voice too low for Pernicia to hear.

" Of course. And now it is time to embrace Morpheus." he said softly as he touched Lottie's tiny hand again.

" Or is it Hypnos...?" she asked. " It doesn't matter. I doubt I'll be able to sleep."

Judging by the slightly grey hue of the vial Ms. Thoroughgood was holding, Edward did not believe Amanda would be experiencing any difficulty in that department.

He resisted the urge to bound down the hall, or do anything else foolish. He might be stunned and ecstatic, but he wouldn't dare give Eloise the satisfaction of seeing him act as foolish as he felt. He did however allow her a glimpse of his absolute smugness, a thing she would later to describe to Winter as misplaced male pride.

" What is it with men, that they adore that proof of their virility?" she was to muse.

Winter would only shrug.

While they were musing and shrugging, Crisp was flying through the rain to deliver the news to Amele, and Giles, and to the Polish wandmaker with whom Edward had been keeping up a friendly correspondence since February. He spent a semi-sleepless night cleaning up Floo powder and wishing that he knew more people, just so he could share his joy with them.

He felt like the richest man in the world.

* * *

Lyrics-The Beatles 


	49. Chapter 49 Endymion

Isn't she lovely

Isn't she wonderful

Isn't she precious

Less than one minute old

I never thought through love we'd be

Making one as lovely as she

But isn't she lovely made from love--

* * *

Amanda had endured a very long labor and had lost quite a bit of blood. Despite Healer Thoroughgood's excellent care, there had been some minor complications due to the effects of the miscarriages she had suffered before. The ingestion of the poisons, according to her Healer, caused a strange striation of scarring that contributed to the difficulty and length of the birthing process.

Thoroughgood was however, both impressed and exasperated that she had endured the entire labor without the assistance of pain relief.

" Anaesthesia is the reward of civilised persons." he said dryly to her the next morning. " And you wouldn't feel so rotten _today, _if you hadn't been so stubborn _yesterday_."

Amanda would not be put off her good mood, but Edward had been horrified at the thought.

" _Why_? " he had demanded, softly, when they were alone. He couldn't look at her delicate hands, and pale face and believe that she could endure that much.

Amanda looked up from her pie, (which he had managed to slip past Pernicia Thoroughgood by shrinking it to the size of a walnut), and winked. She might have refused pain potions yesterday, but but today she was under the effects of a _very_ good one.

" Conception is ecstasy, but birth is labor. I read that in a history book once." she ignored his expression. " Besides, I believe in a little self-sacrifice. My mother did so for my father, and my grandmother for her husband, and so forth. What better way can a woman show her love?"

" I'm sure there is something else..." he muttered, but all the same, he knew how to accept these bizarre whims as gifts. Saying no more on the matter, he watched in silent amazement as she ate the entire pie, then looked longingly at the empty plate.

" Did you enjoy it?"

" It was marvelous."

" Good. Don't ask me where I found it...suffice it to say that it was somewhat free."

In fact, he had summoned it from Eloise's kitchen the night before. One could always trust in Eloise to keep something rich and chocolate lying about for the taking.

Charlotte made a smacking noise with her tiny lips. He had been holding her while Amanda ate, having seated himself stiffly in a tired green chair so there was no danger of dropping her. Already he felt the beginning tendrils of the same desperate attachment for the child as he did for the mother, and was surprised at himself.

He had felt nothing like this for Elias, and he was rather ashamed of that fact, now that he realized what had been absent. Absent, had been the ability to look at and rock the small warm body; to marvel that it was a part of two people, yet a whole being unto itself.

He tried to recall whether or not his son had ever been so expressive. Anytime Amanda looked away, he made a face at the baby, and smiled as her tiny fist curled around one of his fingers. As she did this, Lottie seemed to be considering him, and he thought he could detect tiny flickers of expression and emotion on her new features. Perhaps it was merely his Legilimency atuning to her undeveloped thoughts. She might well be a Legilimens as well, if properly tutored.

That he would see to. There were far too few Legilimens and Occlumens in the Wizarding world; the modern ideals of the day creating a barrier between brilliant minds and one of the most useful skills a man or woman could posses.

He made a little noise to amuse Lottie, but she only yawned and waved her fist.

" She is going to look like you, the lucky thing." he said, softly. " And just look at how she holds her hands. I'll bet she is a mistress of charms."

Amanda smiled indulgently. She had learned that he himself had been an enthusiastic student of charms, but had nearly failed transfiguration.

The baby began to fuss slightly and Amanda eagerly held her arms out. Edward seemed slightly reluctant to relinquish this new treasure, but on cue Pernicia Thoroughgood stepped into the room to inform him it was time to leave.

His face assumed a look of narrow eyed obstinacy at this command. Why should he have to leave now? He could think of nowhere else he wanted to be.

" Please. She will be ready to go home tomorrow at three o clock." she reassured him.

" I am ready to go home right now." Amanda said.

The older woman fixed her with a friendly yet reprimanding look that simply said there was absolutely no chance of that.

" Well, we'll be ready to release you, at three o'clock tomorrow." she amended. " That is earlier than we would like, but since you have been so well-behaved, and taking your potions without argument..." Pernicia produced a vial of something less than purple, and offered it with a smile to Amanda. " Then we have decided to be lenient."

Edward stayed only long enough to watch his wife down the potion, admiring how her still drawn face twisted daintily in disgust, before she shuddered.

" Revolting." she informed him.

After that, he was unceremoniously ushered from the room, so that Amanda could nurse Charlotte.

" You can come back this evening, if you must." Pernicia said with exasperation as he made to seat himself in the corridor. " I promise they will both be here!"

-------------------

" I still cannot believe that I am a mother." Amanda sang out softly to the small being in her arms. Charlotte had no opinion on this, but Amanda felt superb. Tired yes, and very overwhelmed, but still superb.

There was no explaining the excitement, the disbelief, and the utter ferocity of her love. She had to resist the urge to hug the baby tightly to her breast, so intense were her emotions.

" Shall I sing to you?" she asked. " I don't believe I sing well, but I can try. What would you like to hear?"

Charlotte only looked up at her sleepily.

**_'' Way down yonder in New Orleans_**

**_In the land of the dreamy scenes_**

**_Theres a garden of eden...you know what I mean''_**

Amanda began softly. Charlotte's eyes fluttered.

**_''Creole babies with flashin' eyes_**

**_Softly whisper their tender sighs_**

**_Then stop...wont you give your lady fair...a little smile_**

**_Stop..ya bet your life you'll linger there...a little while_**

**_We've got heaven right here on earth_**

**_With those beautiful queens_**

**_Way down yonder in New...Orleans...''_**

When she had finished the lullaby, Charlotte was completely asleep, her tiny rosebud mouth occasionally working reflexively. A happy tear had slipped down Amanda's cheek and fallen onto her daughter's. With a gentle finger, she brushed it away, and planted a kiss in it's place.

* * *

_Lyrics--Stevie Wonder_

_Conception Quote-Revolutionary War, by James Street._

_Way down yonder in New Orleans-Louis Armstrong_


	50. Thus Begins Parenthood

* * *

True to their word, they released Amanda at three o'clock the next afternoon. and she was quite merry from the large dose of purple liquid Pernicia had fed to her for lunch.

She let Stella and Winter fuss her through the Floo, and watched with amusement as Eloise and Edward bickered over who was more qualified to safely conduct an infant from the hospital to the house, and which method of transportation would be the most ideal.

" Through the Floo, woman, are you mad? She'll asphyxiate on ashes!"

" I never heard such a thing!"

" Have you ever taken a child through?"

" Well, not a baby. But I think you should do it anyway. You're the father."

" Well, I am not taking her through the Floo. I am Disapparating with her."

" Disapparating! My gods, you'll splinch her!"

" I've never splinched a soul. I can side-along three people, you know that."

" Oh, yes...adults who are concentrating. But that's not a baby. Besides, who knows what that can do to one of them...what if her brain doesn't fit back into place?" Eloise wrung her hands.

" Her brains will be fine! That's why I wanted your help...two concentrating adults should be able to safely escort one baby..."

" Oh no. I won't be part of this. I can't! What if something happens? I'd never forgive you."

" Really!" Winter stepped back through the Floo, and took the baby from Pernicia Thoroughgood who had been standing with her mouth partly open, hoping to contribute her professional opinion at some place in the argument.

Before Edward or Eloise could stop her, Winter ducked under the low mantel, and disappeared up the Floo. She arrived safely in front of Amanda without ever waking Lottie from peaceful slumber.

" I think they might have taken one too many dueling spells to the head in the old days." she said, tucking the baby into the basket at Amanda's feet. " Will her brains be dislodged indeed!"

-------------

Amanda would only rest for a few minutes, before she insisted on carrying Charlotte to see the nursery. The others began to protest, but she pleaded, saying that she felt fine...which would be true for three hours, or until her pain medication wore away. She wanted to enjoy herself while it lasted.

" I'll have to carry her up and down anyhow." she stated in her defense. " It isn't so bad."

This wasn't entirely true, but she was stubborn. She was also weak and sore, in ways even a good pain potion couldn't completely disguise, and the climb seemed much steeper than usual.

When she finally reached her destination she had to rest in the rocking chair for a moment. It gave her a chance, however, to admire the sliver of moon, thickening as it progressed from it's recent pilgrimage to the dark side of the universe. It's newborn feeble light was appropriate; it was no older this month than Charlotte. For a moment mother and daughter reposed peacefully in the mystic glow, but soon Amanda found the weak light was causing her to grow slightly drowsy.

She shifted in the chair, and Charlotte woke. She didn't cry however, just began to kick her tiny feet happily. She wasn't content until she had completely kicked the blanket free from her feet. Amanda admired her tiny pink toes for a moment, before rising somewhat stiffly from her seat.

She carried the baby to the cradle, and placed her gently on the soft green bedding. The child's coming home dress was of ecru eyelet, and resembled a christening gown in length and style. A matching eyelet cap sat askew on her tiny head, protecting her from the rather cool September air. She was a beautiful sight...as beautiful as one of Stella's dolls.

Amanda shivered at the thought of dolls, and rocked the cradle.

Downstairs, Stella was preparing a meal, and Edward had been relegated to the task of carrying half of the many bags and boxes of home-comeing gifts upstairs. He dropped an armload of foil covered boxes, with something less than care, onto the nursery carpet.

Amanda could just catch a comment about Eloise under his breath, but he forgot whatever was annoying him as soon as he saw the baby in the cradle.

Locking his hands behind his back, he crept closer.

" Ah...she fits perfectly!" he said, as though surprised at himself. Amanda wondered just how large he thought babies might be, but kept her thoughts to herself. She was relieved to see that he was enamored with Charlotte, when so many Purebloods were habitually ridding themselves of unwanted wives, and unsavory daughters.

" There, Lottie..." he said reaching out to rock the cradle too. " Do you like that?"

Charlotte responded by closing her eyes.

" I believe she is sleepy." he stated.

" Again." Amanda smiled. " They said she will sleep almost all the time."

After a few more moments of being rocked, Charlotte fell back to sleep and after some coaxing, Amanda convinced Edward that it was perfectly safe to leave her and return downstairs.

" Just leave her here? Alone?" he asked, aghast.

" Well...yes." she responded, feeling suddenly barbaric. " She won't sleep long..."

"What if she were to cry?"

Amanda blinked at the floor a moment. What did Muggles do when babies cried?

" Is there a charm? A charm to amplify noises? Then we could here her cry downstairs?"

He looked relieved. He had just such a charm placed on the wand shops, so that customers entering the store could be heard, even if he were in the back rooms.

" Of course. Yes...now I see." He seemed slightly embarrassed not to have thought of this himself, but she forgave him. It was obvious that he had rested less than herself, and that, combined with excitement and nervousness, was causing him to be slightly absent-minded.

Nevertheless, he hurriedly perfected a set of charms that amplified any noise within the nursery to echo in every room in the house. He made Amanda test it, by repeating a soft line over and over again, as he adjusted the volume. At last, when her quieted voice rattled the dining room crystal, he was satisfied. Returning to the nursery, he escorted her downstairs, and left her in the capable hands of her relatives while he retired to his study, for whatever business men must do alone in their studies before dinner.

After she had rested and been forced to drink several cups of hot sweet tea, Amanda was urged to open some of the gifts. The packages were all wrapped in creamy, pastel paper that crinkled crisply when she handled it. She became so excited over the baby-clothes she found within, that she lay out a set, determined to change Lottie into it when she woke. It was a very pale lavender satin, a gown, with frothy tatted lace at the hem, and slender herons, embroidered in the same exact shade of lavender crossed necks in the center of the bib.

Then a set of sky-blue baby robes dripping with real lace was discovered, and she changed her mind. A pale pink dress followed, and then a red sacque with matching bib, a peach gown. And then there was the plethora of beautiful gowns and robes waiting already in the nursery closet! She was sorely tempted to wake the baby herself, just to begin dressing her.

" I'll never get the chance to use them all!" she lamented, trying to calculate how many dresses Charlotte must wear in a day if they were to all be sampled. " When will she wake? I want to try this one on her! And then...this one! No. This one, with that hat. What do you think?"

" Didn't you have enough dressing-up with your dolls?" Eloise teased. " And I thought you were all grown-up."

" And I suppose you never played with dolls?" Stella teased her aunt.

Eloise reached up in her familiar gesture and patted the back of her hair.

" I never had time, my dear. I preferred real...people."

" She means men." Winter said conspiratorially.

" They're fun to dress up too." Eloise said, primly.

" Aunt Eloise." Stella warned.

" Charlotte won't grow up so fast that you don't have time to enjoy her." Winter promised Amanda, changing the subject. " Your mother wore her pinafore until she was four!"

" Aw...did you wear pinafores? I bet you looked adorable." Amanda turned to Stella, who flushed slightly at the memory of the pinafores.

" No she wasn't." Eloise piped up. " Everyone agreed that she looked just like George IV...except in a pinafore."

" I did not!" Stella replied indignantly. " Who said that about me?"

" Thessalia Mockingbloom."

" My nanny? Tessy said that? Why...that's horrid. Oh! I never did like her."

The subject of nannies carried them through the rest of the visit, up until they departed, bestowing kisses on both Amanda and the newly awakened Lottie, Eloise and Winter were arguing about the name of their seventh nanny.

" Claudine." Winter insisted.

" Claudine? Are you sure? I thought it was Mona."

" Oh...no!" Winter shook her head in disgust. " That was our fourth nanny. You recall she came after Willa--"

" But before Greta. " Eloise agreed. And they shared between them an evil grin, before exclaiming simultaneously:

" And that's the end of MONA!"

They exploded into the closest approximation to giggling that two respectable witches with greying hair and sultry voices could manage.

" Beg your pardon?" Amanda asked, amused, but not quite following the joke.

" Oh, nothing dear." Eloise sobered immediately.

" Don't listen to her. It was everything. She was a horrible person, and we did everything to persuade her to leave."

" She was a teetotaler and a prude. She wanted our happy home to be a...a...a"

" Convent." Winter supplied.

" I would have had it in a moment! Anyhow, she wanted all of us girls to dress in woolen greys and not talk to boys."

" Or men, she wasn't overly particular."

" Naturally, " Eloise said patting her trademark fashion, " We couldn't let that happen. She used to burn father's cigars, and water down the sherry. But she was never brave enough to admit to it--if anyone noticed something missing or diluted, she would blame one of the maids. That was unforgivable."

" What happened?"

" She left in the night for Australia. Forgot to leave a notice. "

" Praise Leda's sticking charm."

" Praise Sarai's transfigurations."

It was one of the few times Amanda had heard them mention their other sisters, and she caught, just under their jovial recollections, a slight sadness. Not a sadness caused by lost childhoods, but by lost loved ones.

Of course Amanda was fantastically curious about these other women, her kinswomen, but she was not sure of the proper time or manner of asking. At times, both Eloise and Winter would be wells of information and gossip, but caught in just the wrong mood, they could become cold and closed. Seeing perhaps, her eagerness, Eloise deigned to share a small tidbit.

" Leda was magic itself when it came to charms. She manipulated Mona's robes to stick to the floor, effectively pinning her on display. In the foyer."

" And Sarai charmed the robes to be transparent. She transfigured her underclothes to be...well, a little more exotic. "

" Father and mother came in...and found her...running about in circles around her stuck hem..." Eloise laughed as she used one long finger to trace circles in the air. " Undergarments for all the world to see, and screaming in hysterics.

" They thought she was drunk. " Winter laughed.

" Actually she was just red from embarrassment." Eloise was beside herself.

You know, we should have been ashamed." Winter sobered suddenly. Eloise followed suit.

" You're absolutely right. Despicable behavior. That's what it was."

For a moment they nodded at each other, perfectly composed. Then a slight twitch began at the left hand corner of Winter's elegant mouth. It spread all the way across her painted lips,and onto Eloise's. Then they quivered, gave a weak attempt at pretending to be serious, before bursting once more into shrieking laughter. Without another word, they slipped through the Floo arm in arm.

----

" Speaking of nannies..."

Edward spoke up after the other women had left for the day. When Amanda had gave him a suspicious look, he admitted that one of the downfalls of the sensitivity charm was that it followed whomever cast it like an invisible strand of cobweb. Anyone who unintentionally intersected this filament could be heard by the person who cast the charm, a side-effect that could be useful, annoying, or in some cases, informative.

" You see, it wasn't eavesdropping, per se." he said over the rim of his glass, a glint of humor in his eye. " But I must say I am shocked by Eloise's failure to notice. You see, the charm will feel like an uncomfortable cool draught, to those capable of discerning it's presence. I shall have to speak to her about her failing powers of perception. "

" I would like to be within the vicinity when you do. " Amanda replied with a quirky smile. Such a meeting could only be entertaining. " At a safe distance, of course."

" All well and good. But...not to be too grossly distracted form present business, I believe that this is the time to discuss hiring someone to help you."

Amanda looked crestfallen, and prodded her shepherd's pie with a fork tine.

" I really don't want to have to have any help. I can manage, if not quite so well, at first."

" I know that you can...but I would feel better knowing you were not alone during the day while recovering. We mustn't impose on your mother any longer than we must. Besides, she agrees with me. "

His rather kind tone toward Stella was still a minor mystery to Amanda. Stella had accepted Amanda's choice in marrying him, but she had not embraced it wholly, but Edward had never been anything less than polite, regardless of the degree of aloofness he received from Stella. He had lived too long, in a world filled with too many people, to take offense at being shunned by one woman.

Amanda had tried to soothe that unspoken tension, but never successfully. What mysterious underground table did this altered behavior spring from?

She did not, and probably would never, know that after Charlotte's birth, after the visitors had been barred from the room for the night, Stella had taken Edward to the side and apologized to him for having been so cold and mistrusting. Apparently, his impulsive action of dashing into the room to see his wife had impressed his mother-in-law greatly, and she was willing to relax her standards somewhat for his sake.

This truce between them was private, there was no need for it to go further than those minutes in which it occurred. Estella had been surprised to discover that Edward was truly a kind person, and he in turn was surprised to discover that beneath her haughty exterior, Stella was genuine and friendly. She also had a unique sense of humor, that once freed of it's damming, bubbled forth in it's teasing way, washing away any residual sorrows.

Though Amanda would never know the words spoken between them; not Stella's apology nor Edward's reply, she had felt the initial rush of sweet relief, as though an irritating, high-pitched hum had abruptly ceased. She wondered however, now that he was on the verge of threatening to call her mother to side against her, whether or not the relief was worth the consequence.

" I am sure that everyone agrees. I might have agreed once as well." she said, rather tightly.

" Yes. Of course. That's understandable." he winced at her implication. " But we needn't rush into a decision--I am sure there are any number of trustworthy girls..."

He did not wish to voice the fact that Polly herself had been trustworthy. She had also been hexed and used, then eventually murdered. That could befall any girl, regardless of her candor.

" Many women throughout the ages have managed households and children without servants." she said softly, taking his hand. Her gesture did not soften his resolve, and she knew by the stubborn set of his mouth and jaw that it was one argument she would not win.

" Many other women lived in households that were not built or run by complex magical spells. I know that you have been having great difficulty with that aspect. " he held up a hand to silence any argument." And that is reasonable. Consider any help we hire to be like an interpreter. This house is a foreign language, written in code. Hieroglyphics even. You need a person capable of interpreting and working those codes."

She pressed her own lips together and returned her gaze to her plate. He was right of course. It took her three times as long to accomplish anything, because she was constantly having to wait for someone to come along and re-charm something, or un-ward something else. Her wand could only manage so much, and then only in small sections. It was going to be exhausting.

" What about house elves? I've heard that many people have them. They are loyal; I read that they cannot harm the family that they are sworn to unless it is under the most dire of circumstances. And don't they have strong magic of their own? Strong enough that no one could manipulate them?"

She was rambling of course, hoping that she was mistaken about the expression that had formed on his features when she said 'house-elf'. He looked absolutely pained.

" Amanda..." she smiled reflexively. She always loved to hear him say her name, even in that tone of voice. " It isn't that house-elves are good or bad, it is just extremely rare to be able to acquire one if it has not come down through your family. Only the wealthiest of families, or in exceptional cases such as Hogwarts, institutions, are they prevalent.

She blushed. She hadn't thought that they might not be able to afford a house elf. She only knew that Purebloods could own them, but her knowledge of the creatures was somewhat scanty. Hastily she cast around for a tactful way to lead the subject away.

" It's just as well, I suppose. I read in the Quibbler that they can carry Quinkles."

" I beg your pardon?"

" Quinkles. I think it some manner of pox, only they are spiral shaped. "

" I've never heard of such a thing."

She smiled coyly.

" What? Do you possibly doubt something that the Quibbler says?" she asked, teasingly.

" Only more often than not. "

" Except for the sand yeti. I simply have to believe in those. " she gave a little nod. " So there. And since I am certain that Amele will be by this week, I will ask her if she knows of any unemployed girls who are good with children and adults, know a little about Muggle lifestyles, and are capable of battling Vermicious Knids."

He relaxed with a smile.

" You are cheeky at times. But I do believe it's one of your charms."

" Thank you."

" No... thank you. I will feel much better, knowing that you will never be unattended. "

" If you ask it of me, you know I will comply." she said, warmly. " Is that good though, asking Amele?"

" I would put my faith in her, yes. I'm sure she has great recourse to several good families." he leaned across to kiss her, tilting up her chin gently.

Suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of Charlotte crying, the noise vibrating across the floors, and echoing in the crystal. Edward, startled, froze halfway across the table, and Amanda smiled.

" Thus parenthood begins. " she said sweetly, and kissed his cheek swiftly before rising.

* * *

Lyrics- Stevie Wonder

Conception Quote-Revolutionary War, by James Street.

Way down yonder in New Orleans-Louis Armstrong

Vermicious Knids-An invention of Roald Dahl. Amanda is teasing Edward by using them.


	51. Chapter 51 Gifts and Girls

_--Chapter 50--_

_For the next few weeks, Amanda's life was the balance between exultation and utter exhaustion. If she had a moment to spare, it was spent with Lottie; dressing her, singing to her, reading to her from books of poetry. There was nothing sweeter than the smell of Lottie's skin, nothing softer in the world than Lottie's hair, and nothing so frightening as those moments when Lottie slept so hard that her parents were certain she had ceased to breathe,_

_The first week was the most strenuous; Amanda was still tired and rather achy. Yet that was when the most courtesy visits were made for the sake of bringing gifts to the baby. As much as she might want to, Amanda would never be so rude as to send her visitors away. Therefore, Charlotte, in her very first week of life, was held by some of the Wizarding World's most eccentric persons._

_There were still other persons who did not even go to the Ollivander house. They instead appeared at Eloise's abode, to offer congratulations on, and gifts for, a child they had not even seen. Since Amanda had barely or never heard of those witches and wizards, she began to suspect that they only dropped in for the excuse to drink a toast of free alcohol in toast to the newest girl child born to the Rookwood name._

_Most Witches and Wizards needed little or no excuse for celebratory drinking; sunny days, end of school, a nest of freshly hatched robins in the garden...Therefore, a baby, no matter what kind, or where it was from, was more than just cause for a serious round of vaporous felicitations._

_Every guest was generous though. They all brought gifts of some sort and left them on Eloise's polished cherry table. Most items were 'donated' heirlooms. Lace bloomers, rusty puzzle boxes, Aunt Eustace's four-pound paste diamond brooch, Cousin Armwell's dramatic pointy hat..._

_From their closer family friends came the more practical and sentimental gifts._

_Giles Barkwater brought a carved memory chest from Bombay. It smelled of incense and expensive oils. For a man who had never had children of his own, he handled Charlotte with ease. Perhaps a little too much ease for the comfort of the other adults, who watched breathless as he bounced her in his arms, and boomed out nonsense words to her in his jolly voice._

_Amele brought bonnets, and a boxful of novelty baby items that Amanda thought might not be useful for baby, but would undoubtedly be entertaining for parents. The stickable nappies alone were intriguing._

_Arthur and Molly sent what looked to be small Muggle photograph-album. Close inspection revealed that it had been tampered with to allow it to expand indefinitely. The perfect way to keep all of the darling keepsakes in one place._

_Even Agnes had sent a gift...a small white music box with a ballerina inside. It played Tchaikovsky when wound, and the ballerina whirled gently in her real tutu. Amanda thought it very peculiar, and wondered if she should be suspicious. She asked Eloise about it, and her aunt advised her never to be shocked or amazed by any mood of Agnes'._

_" Enjoy it this week, she'll probably send you the bill for it tomorrow."_

_Soon, the visits tapered. The last of the thank-you notes were owled. Crisp, having been carefully introduced to the newest member of the family, had regarded her through his spectacles and hooted in the manner which seemed to say that as long as she didn't eat his food or stand on his perch, he would tolerate her from a distance. He was not impressed by the fact that due to her arrival, he had been constantly sent here and there delivering notes and carrying heavy parcels marked 'fragile'. Nothing made Crisp more dyspeptic than having to handle fragile objects._

_When Lottie turned a week old, Edward presented her with a gift from himself. He had, in his spare time, and when Amanda had not been watching, carved a miniature wand. It was fat and blunted, the better to be used as a teether. He had sanded it smooth as glass, and charmed it to play music when shaken, or simply tinkle like bells when gnawed upon. The wood was a dark vinewood, with an unusual texture. On the handle, he had carved a 'C' monogram, encircled by an ivy wreath. Cradled in the arm of the letter, was a tiny cameo face. A delicate girl's face turned slightly upwards._

_He was delighted with himself, for as soon as she saw the wand, Charlotte smiled._

_---------_

_There was only one detail in Amanda's life which kept it from being perfect, and that was the absence of her own father. She felt it quite keenly as she stared at the infant in her arms. What wouldn't she give to have him alive for just one day! Just long enough to hold his only grandchild in his capable arms. She imagined he would have been very proud, Princeton was the sort of man who prized children highly._

_Whenever she thought about Princeton, she would begin telling her daughter her memories of him, carrying on a Garrett tradition of glorifying loved ones. Lottie listened to everything that Amanda said with an unnerving amount of attentiveness, and this encouraged Amanda to detail every action to the infant._

_She no longer kept thoughts to herself as she dressed, ate, tidied, or read. She wondered sometimes what Grandmother Garret might have said, for she alone among her matronly southern peers was an aloof mother, and when educating her granddaughter on the duties of mother hood, often seemed unforgiving and squeamish at the thought of babies and children._

_This had confused Amanda even then, for the other women had been so warm and open, perambulated their offspring proudly, and held them frequently. And it was from those women, from her own mother, and from women such as Amele and Mrs. Weasley that Amanda fashioned her views on how to properly love and nurture her own child._

_She wanted to care for herself, for the child, and for Edward, without any outside help, but she had to agree, though somewhat grudgingly, with Edward that it was difficult to live in a magical house. Without the constant aid of a person equipped to do limitless magic at all times, small matters could become excruciatingly tedious._

_For instance, she found that she now tended to forget the orders, and would run short of milk or meat, and not be able to get any herself. Twice she had forgotten to have Edward recharge the charms on the cold pantry, and the butter had gone rancid. Then there was the wood for the stove...which needed ordering,The Floo powder was of course, depleted, thanks to Edward's accident, and neither of them had thought to have it refilled and there were doxies in the spare room, and she needed some more space in the closets._

_These were serious limits, and coming at a time when she was already weak, they were nearly overwhelming. And though she stalled as long as humanly possible before doing so, she did eventually speak with Amele. Her friend was very enthusiastic, but not too optimist about their prospects._

_Amele came without her brood to discuss the matter, and ate cookies from Amanda's stash with her elbows on the table, her long hair curtaining her thoughtful face. Amanda, watching her, thought of the day not too long ago when she had first met Amele, and the older woman had been mysterious. She remembered how she had wanted to marry and have children and be happier than Amele and Jean-Paul. She smiled. Perhaps she was not yet any more happy than they, but she felt the creeping suspicion that she was finally just as happy._

_Amele continued to think, while tugging on her the red plastic star dangling from her earlobe._

_" They all want to be famous, these days, yes. None of them want to work, not even with wands! Ah ah...but there must be one, no? Maybe Eliza Duddle? No...she married! What am I thinking. Oh, is she awake? May I see her? Oh...what a beautiful little girl. So tiny too, why, she is a perfect little fairy! Ah me, and all I have is boys, boys boys. But I love my boys, my fat little boys. Have you seen Wellis? Oh! He has such knees!_

_Doesn't she just have the most delicate feet? They look like rose petals. They remind me of Esmeralda in the book, the Muggle one about the Hunchback? And she has hair. Not a one of my boys had a strand of hair. Not even now does Wellis have a hair, and Renee does not have much. But her hair is not red! " Amele paused for a breath. " Would you call that brown, prehaps, or black, like your mother's? "_

_" I think it's brown. " Amanda frowned thoughtfully._

_" Was her father's hair brown?"_

_" Edward's hair...? Why, I think so."_

_" You don't know?" Amele laughed_

_"Well, I never thought about it." she blushed, indignantly. Then she added, grinning lightly. " Really, how would I know? I might find some photographs here, though, if I search through some of the unused bureaus.Strange, I haven't seen a single one!"_

_" That Dinah probably burned them." Amele said, tossing back her hair. Amanda tilted her head in agreement. It was certainly possibly. He was most fortunate, she thought, that it had not been Rebecca he was married to. She would have probably burned the entire house down. With him in it._

_" Here take her back, mamma, she is looking for you." having had so many children of her own, Amele handle the baby a little little more easily than Amanda, who was still afraid of dropping her. Amele passed Charlotte across the table easily, as Amanda held her breath, praying that the baby didn't tumble into the marmalade dish and die._

_" Hold them all the time when they are babies...they grow up too fast, and go to school."_

_Jules had begun his first year of school, and though he had been away only three weeks, Amele missed him terribly. His absence was tolerable only because he was as verbose as his mother, and sent several owls home daily, each containing a lengthy narrative describing everything about Hogwarts; from his lessons, to his detentions; from the color of the pudding to the clothes the teachers wore._

_It had been quite an event, when Jules came in for his first wand. Edward had shown him special attention, and after only a few minutes fitted him with a wand of oak. Twelve inches, bendy, dragonstring. He predicted Jules to be a very strong willed and brave child. Amele had stood by and pretended not to be sad to see her eldest equipped for his long foray into manhood and eventual independence._

_" They say I shouldn't feel so. After all, I have so many others, but ah, I'll be sad to see each one of them go. Why wouldn't I? Is one more special than another? No! " she huffed._

_Amanda clutched Charlotte closer to her bosom at that thought. What was in the future for her little fairy child? Would she be a powerful witch, or a simply a squib like her mother? Would she go to Hogwarts? Or would she attend a Muggle school? She felt a hollow sadness thinking of such futures too, of her Lottie going away, and kissing boys, and forgetting to write home._

_She shook her head. She mustn't let such visions encroach on her current peace._

_" Amele...please...you are making me sad. Let's talk of something else."_

_" Oh! I am sorry! What am I thinking? You shouldn't be sad...this is a happy time! And you are a beautiful mother. I am inspired to sew something I think..." she tilted her head to the left, and then to the right, regarding Amanda like a painter approaching his model. She held up her hands and made a square to look through._

_" That's it. It is soon to be autumn...and I am seeing something in a soft orange. The color of that chaise. Very soft, and tucked at the shoulders, flowing...Roman! Yes! Something inspired by Rome, and Greece, and femininity. What do you think?"_

_" I'm not sure!" Amanda laughed. " Your creations are all beautiful."_

_She fingered the cut-work collar of the sacque Charlotte was wearing._

_" Merci. Would it be strange if I said you were a muse to me? No...why should it be strange? You are so...timeless. You simply do not look as though you belong to this century. I never before had the chance to make real dresses._

_Always, younger people wanting mini skirts, and robes, robes, robes...always the same robes. Only for costumes might they want something more extravagant. That is why I liked so much working with the older women, they still believed in color, and trims and embroidery. When do you ever see a young Wizard or Witch with embroidery?_

_Straight lines, they say. Boring! I remember when the professors at school used to wear pounds of embroidery, bands here,,,and bands here, from their ankles to the collar, with protective charms and symbols worked in. Every layer. Their outer robes. Under robes, shirts, vests, trouser hems skirts, even the underclothing. Everyone's underclothing. Now...nothing on the underclothing. What is the point, they say? "_

_She clucked her tongue in dismay at the world's bland fashion sense, then jumped to her feet._

_" Ah! I must be leaving. I just had to come and see her again...I only peeked the first time. She is really an angel. You know..." she peered at Lottie once more, " I think she might have her father's eyes. That looks like a permanent shade of blue to me."_

_" Do you think so?"_

_Amele shrugged._

_" What do I know? I only have four, and it is all brown eyes." she grinned. " You are taking your medicines right? Good. Now, you rest. I will find you a girl. A good girl, not too clumsy. The perfect young lady for you and Charlotte! "_

_She left in a whirlwind of pink scarves, and jangling bracelets._

_" What do you think? " Amanda asked Charlotte after they were alone._

_Charlotte stuck a fist in her mouth._

_" I see. Well, we are getting a lady anyhow, to help us out. It's your fathers' wish though, so don't blame me if she breaks dishes or burns the toast. Right? Well...Amele will do a good job. You like Amele, don't you? Yes...I saw you smiling..." she jiggled Charlotte so that the baby smiled._

_" That's right." she sighed." And one day you will probably marry Arden or Renee...or whichever boy comes next, and have the world's longest wedding toasts."_


	52. Chapter 52 From Girls to Ghosts

A thousand apologies for anyone still reading this story. I have been taking a few creative writing courses for improvements, and that has left me little time to caress the keyboard. I have returned, and undaunted by punctuation, criticism, unpopularity, or finger cramps I will venture onwards. Readers are welcome, reviewers are adored, and critics are offered tea and scones. I am perfectly open to any persons opinions of anything...except what butterflies dream. That I believe, is a very private matter between butterflies.

* * *

A mother's arms are made of tenderness, and children sleep soundly 

in them.--Les Miserables.

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**Chapter 52**

Amele discovered, at length, what she considered to be the perfect girl for Amanda, and informally brought her along for introduction. Her name was Patsy, and she was Irish. She was perhaps just five feet tall, with long, dark braids on either side of her head. Her button nose was covered with delicate freckles, and she had a manner of leaning forward to speak, with both eyebrows raised earnestly over her laughing,green eyes.

She seemed to be the sort of girl who had never had a sorrowful moment in her young life, so Amanda was greatly surprised to learn that she had been orphaned at the age of ten, and raised afterwards by her great-grandmother. Patsy was neither ashamed nor seeking sympathy when she revealed that she had been much too poor to afford wands or magical schooling, and had gone to work instead as a nanny at the age of fifteen. She took care of her grandmother until the elderly woman's death, ( when Patsy was sixteen) then began paying for tutoring out of her earnings.

Despite herself, Amanda liked Patsy, and Edward too agreed that she was pleasant enough. She had no family of her own, but a good deal of experience with children. She was also very good at folding charms, polishing charms, and the ever important charm that could set dirty dishes to washing themselves in the kitchen sink. She was hired that night, and given Polly's quarters to do with as she pleased.

Patsy moved her belongings in the very next day, and Edward breathed a great sigh of relief. He was surprised that Amanda had accepted someone so soon. After her reluctance at the thought of having help, he had imagined lines and lines of rejected women leaving his house in droves. But Amanda had surprised him once more. Patsy had won her generous heart in a short amount of time.

They soon learned that Patsy was just as talkative as Amele, and she charged no extra fee for the prattle. If she had no audience, she would chatter to herself, or sing, or just work her mouth as she held discussions in her head. It was not uncommon to find her talking to lamps, addressing curtains, and reprimanding the stove. In a person of less sweetness, that quality might have made her seem insane.

Edward immediately set her to work, with strict orders not to allow Amanda to do anything other than care for Charlotte, eat well, and rest for as long as possible. That was not as long as he had hoped. Amanda was soon on her feet again, so to speak, but she had lost her will to argue about the amount of magic employed to do even the simplest of household tasks.

After all, the less time it took to finish the day's work, the more time she had to spend with Charlotte. And she loved nothing more than to be with Charlotte, even if it was only to lie beside her for hours and watch her small chest rise and fall with her tiny breaths.

And then, there was a certain amount of time to be allotted to Stella, as well. Stella, having accepted with grace the fact that she was a grandmother, had decided that Charlotte needed to be shown to every witch and wizard in England, especially the ones with grandchildren of their own, so that they could compare and praise until the next blue moon.

Amanda found that even simple shopping excursions, meant only to buy new dresses or toys for the baby, would end with her mother and some other lady discussing the charms and merits of their grand-offspring over a rack of clothing, while they occasionally stopped to make cooing noises or ask Lottie a question.

That year Christmas was more extravagant. The table groaned under the weight of pastries and fowls cooked to perfection by Amanda and Patsy. Cheeses, olives, candies and wine were abundant, the fragrant tree sagged with ornaments and burst with presents.

Not only did Edward and Amanda, ( knowing each other better than ever) purchase extravagantly for themselves, but they had sincerely over-purchased for their young daughter, who, despite her parents trouble was much more interested in watching the candles flicker over the mantel or the floating glass snow globes hovering near the ceiling than in any boxes, boys or plush toys.

She clutched instead her toy wand, and amused herself with rattling it while her parents opened gifts for her.

" There...see how she is holding her wand? I told you she will be the worlds next charms mistress." Edward exclaimed.

" Perhaps she will be a concert pianist." Amanda countered. " Just look how long her fingers will be. Not like mine...I have to struggle so to reach the keys.'

" But you struggle with such grace." he soothed.

Charlotte seemed to enjoy hearing the piano being played, as much as Amanda enjoyed playing it. When she was colicky and couldn't sleep the soft sound of Brahms and the vibration of the strings was the only thing that could soothe her. Amanda would settle the baby in a basket by her feet and play soft lilting pieces and Lottie would lie perfectly still and listen, her long lashed eyes slowly blinking until she fell deeply asleep. On Sundays, Edward would build the largest fire in the parlor, so that Lottie would not succumb to the fearful phantom diseases brought about by draft; and Amanda would play for them both.During these times, he took great enjoyment in holding Charlotte and bouncing her in time to the music.

Since Patsy, unlike Polly, had no family to visit on Sundays, she began more and more to be included in some of the family's daily events. She made it her own politic decision, however, to not impose and spent most every Sunday pursuing her second dearest hobby...shopping.

She had a one of the gifts of society with which Amanda had not been blessed--the love of shopping. With it came a sense of style that was never outdated. Patsy knew every trend, every fashion, every in vogue shop in the world. She knew the good measure of one leather over another, of-muslin over wool, cashmere against velvet.This designer over that--in both Muggle and Wizarding fashions. She was utter proof that the intuition for finery was not a trait of good breeding so much as it was simply an inherent gene in some humans.

Amanda's method was to choose what pleased her eye, her lifestyle, and her pocketbook, while praying that it didn't clash with her hair or turn her skin sallow.

The other remarkable thing about Patsy was that though she went shopping nearly four times week, she rarely ever bought anything! She actually enjoyed simply spending agonizingly long hours poring over articles of clothing, shoes, accessories, and handbags--all for nothing more than the satisfaction of seeing and smelling new , unworn fabrics. It was, to Amanda, simply amazing. The few purchases she did bring home were always books, which she shrunk to the size of matchboxes to fit in her bag. There were never fewer than ten, as reading voraciously was her main, and dearest hobby.

As winter dragged on, harsh and cold, Amanda welcomed Patsy's company more and more. In the afternoons, just before Edward was to come home and while Charlotte was at her nap, the two women would settle in the kitchen, where Patsy was most comfortable. Amanda used this time exclusively for sewing, and while she sewed they either talked, in which case Patsy would tat, ( a remarkable talent in Amanda's opinion, as Patsy handled the shuttle without magic, coiling the thread knotlessly into frothy circles and picots with great ease.) or Patsy would pull out a book and read aloud. Their literary choices for these sessions were generally short, serial Wizarding mysteries penned by an author known only as "Theophrastus".

Winter dragged even further on, and Charlotte grew rounder and longer. Her hair grew. She began to roll and to raise up. She smiled at Amanda and reached for Edward.

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During the Christmas holiday, Amele had visited Diagon Alley, accompanied by Jules, who was home from Hogwarts. ( and was keeping on her the bright eager eye of youth to see what secret purchases she might make for the holiday.)Amele never failed to enter the wand-shop if shew as nearby, and that day was no exception. While there, Jules tirelessly regaled everyone with first and second hand accounts of Harry Potter, which once more re-awakened the gossip about the Boy-Who-Lived. Jules told them that he saw Potter every day, but because Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor house, and Jules into Ravenclaw, they had not had the chance to speak. However, he informed Edward breathlessly one day, everyone went to watch Harry Potter play Quidditch. He was, Jules explained excitedly, the youngest Seeker in years.

Amanda listened politely and not without interest, even though she was at a loss as to what the child meant at times. Edward, however, seemed fascinated and perhaps a trifle jealous, saying that in his day at Hogwarts, rules were much stricter...and wouldn't be bent not even by a legend. Even so, he had Jules explain to him in detail how well Potter had flown, how easily he had caught the snitch, and what sort of performance did his broom seem to offer?

When Jules had finished and turned to this mother, bright eyed and rosy cheeked, begging her for a broom of his own, Edward had helped him persuade her. Amele wanted to balk with all of her motherly instincts, but gave in after only a small amount of cajoling.

" What can I do?" she asked the air above her. " Boys will be boys. Hah. But your father, he is going to kill me."

They left, with Amele adamantly refusing to buy a broom for each boy. As they disappeared down the street, Amanda and Edward heard the sound of Franchot's piping voice asking; " Is it because Jules is eleven? Can I have a broom when I am eleven? My own broom? Will it be Nimbus? Do I have to let Renee play on it too? Will you remember exactly when I am eleven? Promise?)

In the silence that followed, Amanda asked Edward questions about Hogwarts and Quidditch, which he answered with commendable patience. The next day, he purchased for her a volume of "Hogwart's, A History", which she read through thoroughly. With the possibility of her own children attending in the future, she wanted to be as knowledgeable as possible on the subject.

" Is it really safe?" she asked, after finishing the volume. They were seated on the library sofa and Lottie was napping in her basket in the corner.

" Of course! Well...relatively safe. Safe as anywhere I suppose." he loosened his collar under her scrutiny. " Personally I never knew of anyone to come to irreparable harm from the school itself."

" Well, I suppose that is comforting, provided I don't think too closely on it. " she commented. " And these houses...very interesting. Which were you in?"

" Do you not suspect?" he asked, raising a brow.

" Well, I would hazard a guess...but the rivalry between the houses seems to be so that an incorrect guess might serve me ill."

" I see...taking the political approach, eh?"

She granted him a demure nod.

" It's not that I am not curious...I am just ignorant on some accounts." she granted.

He leaned across and whispered in her ear.

" Slytherin."

Her eyes widened for a moment, and gooseflesh raised along her arms.

" Oh..." she said.

" Does that bother you?"

" Why should it? I didn't even know what it was, precisely, until just this morning!" she laughed.

" Well there are some who believe that it is a bad thing, and that nothing good can come of that house."

" Bah!" she scoffed. " That's rubbish. It's only a school ceremony. What is it really, but a club?"

" That is a way of looking at it, yes."

" Well then. It's just something to be proud of, isn't it? Has there never been a bad person from another house?"

" Some of them might try to indicate something to that extent." he said. " But they have had their villains as well. "

" It isn't dangerous is it? I mean, they do place rules on the students so that competition doesn't escalate out of control?"

" I don't know for certain what it is like now. When I was in school any sort of dangerous misbehavior was strictly punished. They couldn't afford not to monitor that much magic in so many unskilled hands."

Amanda studied the cover of the book in thoughtful silence for a moment.

" You have a question?" he asked.

" Oh...I was just wondering. It suggests that only a Pureblood can be sorted into Slytherin. Does that mean Lottie could never...?"

" The secret to sorting is that you are placed exactly where you belong. And where you belong is where you want to be...that is how it is decided. I would think that if Lottie wanted to be in Slytherin, then she would be sorted there without question. I...think she might do better than that, however."

" Why were you sorted there? ' she asked, leaning against his shoulder.

" Because my father was...and his fathers before him, and most of the mothers as well, I believe. A family tradition that I was loathe to break."

" Do you want it to be unbroken now?"

" It doesn't matter to me anymore, in fact I can't imagine why it did in the first place. Besides...Elias went there as well. Though I believe he was well placed for his disposition."

Edward rarely spoke of Elias. When he did, the comments were neither very derogatory, nor very flattering. He simply spoke of him as he would a distant relation with severe differences in disposition and beliefs. It was one of Amanda's few regrets that she did not better know her stepson...but it was obvious that it made Edward uncomfortable to speak of him, and it was even more obvious through Elias' behavior that he himself had no desire to become better acquainted.

They had dutifully sent him the announcement of Charlotte's birth, but it had remained unanswered. They had learned from Eloise later, who had it from Xenophilius Lovegood, that Elias was engaged. They had received no word of it themselves. The engagement was announced publicly, and Elias was simply ' The son of Dinah Blackmoor, of Vincente Blackmoor's house. Nephew of Rebecca Blackmoor, and Mordecai Blackmoor. " which was quite uncalled for. The woman in question was Valia Penniworth, the daughter, Eloise informed them, of Thornton Penniworth the Ministry official, and Ruselle Umbridge-Penniworth, making her a second cousin to Adelfried Umbridge, and a first cousin to Gladys Whetstone, the artist, whose mother was a Penniworth.

That was very confusing, but it grew even more confusing when Eloise unrolled a great scroll of the Wizarding family trees, and began explaining detailed lineage. Unlike the scroll detailing just the Rookwood tree, this one had all of the families of Wizarding England. The printing was microscopic, but charmed to enlarge itself when a finger was brushed over it.

" This is one of the few family trees that has not been altered to exclude Muggles. " she said. " They are written in green ink, and the wizards in black...but only to keep the lines straight. See...this is where the Penniworths are related to the Umbridges. And here is where they are both related to the Weasleys, not that they would like that publicly known. Here the line connects to the Malfoys and Blacks, Ollivanders and the Rookwoods here...and the Blackmoors. So Valia would be, let me see..." she began mumbling ot herself. " Henrietta to Phoebus and here to Jacobi...Echo to Christoban...to Septimus...Imara Blackmoor or Imara Malfoy? Oh..here...and straight to Thornton...to Valia--she is actually Elias' third cousin twice removed."

" Are you sure?" Amanda asked, losing track easily in the tiny text and coats of arms.

"Positive. You can see for yourself. You've done well...did you know that you are the first Rookwood to marry an Ollivander since 1307?"

Eloise indicated a particular branch.

" You mean I wasn't the first. "

" Oh you would have had to search further than that to find a family we had not married into at sometime during history. Look, Anne Rookwood to Decimus Ollivander 1307. They had eight children... this one, Meryn...she was our direct ancestor. But then so was her niece, Thora."

" Why didn't you show me this before?" Amanda asked. " This is quite remarkable."

" You've seen the family tree."

" Yes, but I didn't know any of the names, except ours."

" It must have slipped my mind. You see that you have been added here, as has Charlotte? "

" I see...and here is a Rookwood married to a Weasley!"

" Yes...Odelphia Weasley...and Perseus Rookwood. And Perseus' mother was a Longbottom. Odelphia's is a Lovegood. You see all the families were so dreadfully intermarried, that is why the marriage law eventually came about. At first the wealthier families only married among themselves. Malfoys and Blacks never stooped to Rookwoods and Ollivanders. We never stooped to Weasley's and Lovegoods. But over the centuries it was simply purity and power, over wealth and status, and for awhile, marrying into the fresher bloodlines revived the magic. But then, as you know, it began to weaken again. Now you can see why."

" Is that why Dinah married Edward? I see her that her family was ranked higher in status, and it seems as though they married almost exclusively with just these nine families. "

" Hmm...I believe on Dinah knows why Dinah did what she did. I don't think she was interested in keeping her blood alive. My opinion is that she knew very little about Edward, except that he portrayed himself to much more of a gentleman than he could afford to truly be...at that time. Vincente Blackmoor was a misogynist disciplinarian, and she no doubt wanted to rebel against him...revenge perhaps. I suppose it worked. She was disinherited, and never quite regained her position on the social ladder...even after Rebecca became head of Blackmoor."

" And what about Elias?"

" No one knows much about Elias."

Weeks later, as she sat holding ''Hogwarts, a History'', she did not even know if Elias had married Valia Penniworth. However, she at least knew that he too had been in Slytherin house, like his father.

" Well...are there really ghosts in the school?" she asked changing the subject slightly.

" Of course." Edward answered.

She appeared slightly skeptical.

" I'm not too certain that I believe that." she said.

He shrugged dismissively, then sat jerked a little as an idea occurred to him.

" Would you like to see a ghost, Amanda?"

She regarded him closely. Was he being serious?

He was.

Did she want to see a ghost?

She did not!

" No! Why would I want to do that!?' she exclaimed.

" To prove to yourself that they are real." he placed his arm about her shoulder.

" I've lived this long in doubt...there is no reason to alter it." she assured him.

" You might be surprised. Ghosts are not really as bad as they have been portrayed. They can be funny, noble, even helpful.."

" No, really, it's quite all right."

" Such protestation leads me to think you believe in them more than you will admit."

She fidgeted.

" I didn't believe in magic once, and it was proven to me."

" Then ghosts could be proven as well."

" That's what I am afraid of. I would rather doubt their existence. Next, you'll be telling me werewolves and vampires are real as well."

He gave her a mournful look.

" What is it? Oh..don't tell me!"

" Werewolves and Vampires do exist." he said.

She glanced nervously at the baby in the basket, and lowered her voice to say;

" Don't you think it might give Lottie nightmares if we talk of such things?"

" Lottie? No. Amanda?...perhaps."

She could she that he was in one of his teasing moods, and like Eloise, he could be infuriating when he took it upon himself to try.

" I haven't had nightmares since I was a little girl." she huffed.

" That's because you began to believe that those monsters you imagined, and your parents degraded, were just figments of your precious, childhood imagination, and had no place in your current state of blossoming womanhood, where they would take the place of your poems and flowers, and daydreams of love."

" And as I said, I would prefer to continue believing thus."

" Well, you can do as you please." he said, sitting back. " Charlotte however will know all about such things, because they teach about them in school."

" About werewolves?" she asked, dryly.

" About everything. She won't be afraid of anything, because she will understand it."

" I'm not afraid!" Amanda stated.

" Oh...of course not!"

She began to feel she was approaching that horrible place in a conversation, where it forked off into several possibilities. In either direction, her pride was in danger of being scuffed. She could insist on not being a coward, and be unproven, or she could face a ghost, and then have to admit it existed. She toyed with with each outcome, wondering how important it was, constantly aware that he was watching her...waiting.

She sighed.

" All right then...let me see a ghost. But don't say that you told me so, because that would be unfair since I hadn't the luxury of being raised with them."

His eyes gave a triumphant flicker.

" Stella should have packed one along to America."

" That might have caused a lot of trouble."

" Oh, I don't know...I assure you, ghosts are very refined."

" Do they all live in Hogwarts? Or do you know of another?"

" Many others! We'll pay a visit to Giles."

" To Giles? Don't try to convince me that Giles is a ghost!"

" Don't be absurd. Of course Giles isn't a ghost. Did I not say that ghosts are refined? He does happen to share his house with one, however."

" Who was the ghost before he died?"

" I cannot recall just at this moment. A sort of barrister, I believe. "

" A refined, spectral barrister." Amanda said with assumed awe. " How terrifying."

" Yes. The worst part is that he refuses to play chess. He is strictly a backgammon sort of person, which is very tedious for Giles."

" Yes, I see where it must be. And why hasn't Mr. Barkwater been around to visit us of late? That game has been laid out for months!"

" Oh..." Edward seemed suddenly taken off guard. " He has had some personal business of a sort that has demanded much of his time. "

" Nothing serious, I hope?"

" He says that it isn't, but he behaves as though it is. It's very peculiar for him." Edward frowned.

" Perhaps you should talk with him."

" Yes...perhaps I should." he said thoughtfully. Then, " At any length, I will show you a ghost."

" Just one thing..." she said, taking his arm.

" And what is that?"

" If there is really a ghost...don't...let it jump out at me, please?"

" I would insist that he not do anything so uncivilized."

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	53. Chapter 53 An Evening With Giles

_**Nobody moves me**_

_**I've been through this life with no place that I can call my own.**_

_**I'm thinking above me**_

_**I never seem to find anybody that can feel like home--**_

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From one perspective, Giles Barkwater had the appearance of being short. From another, he appeared somewhat stocky. He was in truth, neither. He was of average height, and an average build and due to his lifestyle, tended to be solid and somewhat broad shouldered. In his youth, middle age, and up to the point where he had sustained his nearly fatal wound, he had been athletic, and master equestrian. In fact, he quite preferred the sport of riding horses to that of riding brooms, and that was part of the allure for leaving the Wizarding world, and joining the Muggle cavalry.

He had not, as he teased Amanda, really blasted off his own leg in order to retire, though he had realized that the time for retiring was fast approaching. There was only so long that his Muggle comrades would believe that Giles' youthful good looks and healthful vigor were due solely to good genes. They would eventually become suspicious, or worse--superstitious.

He had been contemplating the most dignified way of gaining his freedom, when much to his chagrin, he was struck in the abdomen by a musket ball during a small, but rather fierce battle under the Indian sun. The skirmish continued without him, and he had lain in his own blood, and that of his fallen companions and enemies, awaiting death and regretting the bad decisions he had made throughout his life.

He was gut shot, and when the heat of retreat was upon the others, they spared him not a second look, so that before midday he had been left alone, and counted among the dead. For once in his life, Giles had to depend on Giles for survival, and he found within himself that day a previously untapped source of bravery and courage.

Shakily, he had half risen, propping his head on the half dismembered leg of a fallen Lt., and began picking the newly hatched maggots from his own wound. The hot sun had beaten harshly against his uncovered head, and parching his lips. The maggots were covered in blood, wriggling-- and he had a difficult time gripping them with his numb fingers; some of them were mashed unintentionally and their yellowish liquid innards dripped into the gaping hole in his stomach.

He gagged involuntarily, and threw the dessicated bodies away. By all rights, he should have died, but through sheer determination, and the greatest agony of his life, he managed to reach his left boot, and draw out his wand. First he summoned a drink of water. Then he cleaned the wound as best he could. Being no medic, he was certain he was doing more harm than good, and hurt like hell. Once clean, he placed his own finger in his mouth to bite down on, and, figuring he had nothing to lose, Accioed the bullet out. The pain in his finger, unfortunately was not enough to take his mind away from the pain in his gullet.

For a time he swooned. When he came back to his senses, the ball lay beside his hand, and a fresh outpouring of blood was soaking his scarlet coat. With the last shred of self-discipline he could muster, he muttered a Reparo over the hole, and shrieked; it felt as though his skin had been nailed together with glowing brands.

He summoned some bandaging, and did the best he could towards covering it. Just enough to hold keep him alive until he could find his way back to the Wizarding world, and trained healers.

They told him it was a miracle of both worlds that he had survived at all, and after that he had no use for the army--so one of his plans, that of altering his appearance and re-enlisting, was tossed away as a foolish idea. He instead began retraining to join the Aurors, and soon had blended his Muggle and Wizarding skills into a complex yet effective form of operation. Soon, his colleagues began to avoid him, as being too unpredictable, and in their opinion, not serious enough about the job.

Giles was not serious enough. He did not even pretend to have the single minded devotion or arrogance attributed to the Aurors. His dark blue eyes crinkled often with laughter, and his elegant mouth was permanently curved into a smile behind his neatly trimmed beard. This usually meant, that whenever he had to confront a suspected smuggler or villain of some sort, he was targeted as the good-fellow, and the offender would then attempt to elicit sympathy form him. They also assumed, due to his fidgeting nature, animated conversation, and humble manner that he was slow, and hopefully not paying attention.

This mistake led to a many a person being unnecessarily wounded while trying to escape.

He tried to become, when not actual being an Auror, the reserved sort of gentleman that a retired colonel should be. He even took to wearing a green satin vest, which in his mind was the most elegant and reserved garment a gentleman could possess.

At other times he could be brash and flirtatious or broody and temperamental.One day he could carry-on and joke, examining black-market potion ingredients while regaling people with tall tales about his life. The next day would find him seated between the wall and his bed, drinking scotch and staring at his service revolver with a degree of loathing.

There had been a time or two when he had considered using that pistol to obliterate the nightmares about the days of war. Strange that events of which he took little notice at the time of their occurrence should return to haunt him afterwards. And so vividly.

Night after night, piecemeal images would flood his mind. Dead friends, slashed throats, half eaten corpses. Ropes of intestines pulled across the road by scavengers, intestines that squelched when the wheels of the cannon rolled unceremoniously over their gnawed remains. The sobs of raped women, the wails of starving babies, the bodies of mangled children wrenched him from his tortured dreams. The smells of blood, vomit, and human feces that the rains washed into the camps and tents, swarming with flies would wake him sometimes and linger about until he was certain that at any moment a colleague was going to turn to him and comment on the unpleasant odor of death. Deep into his eyes there lurked the imprint of torture and cruelty, the hopeless color of gangrenous wounds and festering sores, the wailing and moaning of men dying of fevers and dysentery.

He might have regarded the pistol, but he never loaded it. Something kept him from it, a lack of courage perhaps. His own courage had been miserably depleted that day on the battlefield, and as everyone knows, courage isn't simply replenished or regrown, like hair or nails. He was too much of a coward to place the ball into the pistol, and at the same time he was too afraid to shoot himself he was thinking that only a coward would commit suicide and not finish his life as a man. So was Giles brave, or cowardly? He himself was not sure.

Anohter issue haunted Giles as well.

When he had told Amanda that he had never married because he had never found the perfect person, he had not been lying. The full truth was that he was slightly jealous of losing his friend Edward, who had married and might never be the same for it.

At first, he had seen Edward's marriage as a separation of the established friendship between two old men who had never discovered the illusion of marital bliss

He had briefly been pleased and relieved when after the marriage Edward certainly didn't seem blissful; in fact Edward had acquired an impatient terseness, which was to be expected in a man who, after forty years of restored bachelorhood, was suddenly forced into an impromptu, arranged union with young stranger.

Giles had expected her to be quite horrible.

The surprise of his life was to discover that Amanda was pleasant. Not only in personality, but in appearance as well. She was odd,of course...even for a Muggle, and perhaps a little dull. But in his opinion, and he set a fair amount of store in his own opinion, that was a good thing. After Dinah, Edward needed someone who was subdued.

Sometimes Giles tried to imagine what it be like to be Amanda; a normal, magic-less Muggle taken to a foreign country, then to an underground community into in which you did not have the faculties to ever truly fit, and then be required to marry. She was being very gracious about the whole ordeal, in his opinion.

He even took it upon himself to scold Edward about his aloofness one day, but Edward would not be budged from his own suspicions. Then, one miraculous day, Edward had simply turned to Giles and said;

" You should settle down Giles. Find someone to marry. You won't regret it."

Giles had beamed triumphantly.

" Bravo, Amanda.." he thought. But then the truth about himself settled on his shoulders like the weight of the universe. He did not seem himself as someone who could marry or settle down.

Who would wish to be his companion? After all, he wore a green satin vest and played horribly at chess. His beard too, was no longer fashionable, and...and well, he imagined he would not be desirable to the sort of person of whom he might wish to gain companionship. Therefore, as a hobby, he began to take a great interest in Edward's marriage, observing it as he might the nesting habits of sparrows were he an amateur ornithologist. He was all too glad to have Edward and Amanda over for an evening of supernatural conversation. Their happiness for a short time would create a patch for the loneliness of his own life.

Convincing Sir Humphrey Hample, the ghostly Barrister of Hample Place, to agree to a meeting was no easy task. Sir Humphrey's ego had long ago been bruised by the truth of his own unfortunate demise, which had occurred shortly after he had climbed out of his garret window to mend the roof tiles...during a thunder storm. After he had imbibed a half keg of Red Ripple, his own personal vintage.( a vintage with the reputation of being only just easier to swallow than flaming razor-blades.)

Any reminder of his death left Sir Hample in a fit of melancholia. Any reminder that it had been his own fault led to a violent outburst of temper, which resulted in much door slamming and hours of him pacing the attic floor spouting poetry backwards, a talent he learned to keep himself amused in the afterlife.

Caught up in his own troubles, Giles was something less than tactful the first day and it then took four days of cajoling and soothing to Sir Humphrey's pride. That and a promise to supply the ghost with an easel and other accouterments oil painting, a hobby Sir. Humphrey was very intrigued by, and Sir Humphrey agreed to be a congenial and cooperative host.

Giles invited Edward and Amanda to his house for Saturday evening. If Mrs. Ollivander was to believe in a ghost, then the most effective time in which to see the ghost was evening. In the daylight ghosts were so pale and diaphanous, hardly credible.

Giles had only one other creature that shared his roof. A gnarled old housekeeper who called herself Rufus. She was not a Mrs. or a Miss...only Rufus, and he was not sure if it was her given name or her surname. It suited her though, she being short and thin, and heavily browed. Her ruddy face and brown eyes were utterly humorless, and she wore a brown woolen shawl over her stooped shoulders at all times.

Unlike what might be expected of a bachelor who acquired an elderly housekeeper...Giles had no affection for the woman, though she had been in his employ over ten years. She, in return, completely disliked him. They acknowledged their feelings, and dutifully avoided each other except in times of dire emergency.

On Saturday, he asked only that she tidy the house, somewhat, and leave out the decanter. Then he told her she could have the night off to do with as she pleased, to which she bitterly replied that there was nothing in the world that pleased her, and that she had not a penny or a place in the world to go. He gave her ten galleons for he trouble, and told her an abbreviated form of where he wished she would go.

She grumbled and sniffed, but took the money gladly enough and was off to the nearest pub so fast that her bony ankles showed with the flying of her skirt.

Not an hour later, Edward arrived-- precisely one minute early, as always. He snapped his watch closed with a satisfied nod, and tucked it into his watch pocket as Giles opened the door for him. He stepped aside so that Amanda could enter first, which she did only after he prodded her gently in the small of her back.

She seemed rather reluctant, Giles thought.

Not that he blamed her. Muggles made such a nasty business about ghosts and monsters and the like, it was no wonder they lived in such fear of them. Not that there weren't dangerous ghosts, monsters, and the like..but well, dash it---there were dangerous humans too, weren't there? He offered her a glass of brandy which she regretfully declined, claiming that if she were to truly believe in what she was going to see, she wanted to be clear headed.

" It wouldn't do any good, if I could say later it was alcohol!" she had teased. In truth, she would have welcomed the bracing drink, but she declined for Lottie's sake.

She did accept a cup of tea, though, politely ignoring the fact that the cup was dusty, and the rim was chipped. Strangely, it made her feel more relaxed, that dusty cup, and she settled back to listen while Edward and Giles talked about the week's pleasantries and news.

" Tell me Amanda, " Giles turned to her..." now, what do you think of our new Minister? "

" Well...from what I have been reading, he seems to be non-committal about some very important issues, and perhaps it is because of my position, but he strikes me as somewhat biased. "

" Haw!" Giles struck the chair arm. " Exactly what I've been saying! He should stop this constant dilly-dallying and set about being a proper minister. Now, biased yes. He is that. Indeed he is. He is all for the Purebloods--" he indicated Edward. " And leaves us Halfbloods at their mercy."

Edward gave a tight lipped smile to Giles.

" Not all Purebloods. He has a distinct appetite for the very wealthy. Even more so for the very generous."

" You mean, the very ambitious." Giles corrected.

" Well, yes. That is why he doesn't bother to court such persons as myself."

" Or Eloise Rookwood. "

They shared a dry chuckle. Amanda too, had to smile. Aunt Eloise was renowned for being many things, but charitable and ambitious were not among her repertoire.

Giles glanced up at the clock.

" Now I wonder what is keeping our other guest?" he mused.

Amanda resisted looking about. She was not too sure yet that she wasn't entangled in a sort of Wizarding joke, and being so keyed-up, she jumped slightly, when Giles stood and rang a tiny glass bell. The delicate, sharp sound echoed harshly through the silence.

" All right?" Edward whispered to her, so that Giles couldn't hear.

She gave a slight nod, not reassured by the brief silver twinkle in his wide, unblinking eyes.

" Might I come in?" a rich baritone voice asked from the other side of the door .

" Sir Humphrey! Of course...come on through."

Through? Amanda had time to think to herself before a silver shape began to squeeze through the very wood of the parlor door. At first she could not quite comprehend what was happening...it looked as though a cloud were oozing through the crevices, but the cloud had a vague shape and facial features.

She became aware of a prickling sensation along the fine hairs on her neck and arms, and a chill went down her back. She placed a hand on Edward's arm, no longer caring if he laughed at her for silliness. It was great comfort to her when he took her hand in his own and rubbed the palm soothingly.

Sir Humphrey Hample enjoyed making a show of his entry into a room, but since he was forbidden to burst unexpectedly through the wall and create havoc, he had to settle for slowly appearing, one body part at a time.This was very tedious and caused his wig to flatten. Once he was fully through, he took a moment to brush his robes, and straighten the hairpiece.

" Good afternoon." he greeted his audience, bowing slightly to Amanda. " Madam."

She found it suddenly difficult not to smile. It was obvious that he had been, while alive, a very handsome man with a long sharp nose, pointed chin and heavy-lidded eyes. Even now, in his powdered wig and shadowy robes he was distinguished and imposing.

" Sir Humphrey, you of course know my good friend Edward..."

" I've had the honor." Humphrey replied in a slightly bored tone.

" And this is his wife, Amanda."

" Indeed, my pleasure." he said, bending again from the waist and winking when he thought no one could see his face.

Introductions now over, Sir Humphrey 'seated' himself over a chair, floating slightly above the plush cushion.

" Now see, Amanda--a bona fide ghost!" Giles announced.

Sir Humphrey stiffened.

" I prefer the term 'spectral being'. " he said tersely.

" Of course, of course." Giles said, apologetically. " A spectral being. Nothing whatsoever to be frightened of."

" Oh yes there is." Humphrey said. " Do not let my personable demeanor fool you. I have control at present but at any given moment, I could spring up!" he half sprang, causing Amanda to jump. " Becoming vicious and bloodthirsty--ripping and devouring all that stand in my way or dare to step foot in my realm!"

At the sight of her widened eyes, he laughed.

" Just teasing you, my dear! Do I really strike you as the sort of spectral being who would devour? Or rip? Of course not. But I understand. You don't believe in ghosts. No, no...don't be embarrassed...I've seen to many skeptics in my death to not recognize one more. Don't let it bother you...I myself never believed in ghosts when I was alive. It almost scared me to death...well, to life, actually, when I saw my reflection the first time after the accident. I thought I was haunted! Spent the better part of a decade avoiding my bathroom mirror--oh, it was embarrassing the day I realized that was myself I was avoiding!"

" Oh! " Amanda exclaimed. "That must have been terrible for you!"

" Yes. But it's amusing to isn't it?"

" Well.." she admitted sheepishly, " Yes it is."

" Good! Now you can tell everyone that Sir Humphrey Hample is a funny fellow. Here touch my hand."

She looked to Edward, who was inscrutable, and then reached tentatively out toward Humphrey's hand. It was cold, and she drew back slightly.

" Go on, right on through! It won't hurt me or you."

She did as he said, and shivered at the unappealing sensation.

" What do you think?" he asked.

" Well, it's cold. "

" How cold it is! My feet haven't been warm in a century." he agreed sadly.

" It is also...silvery. In fact, it reminds me of...tiny glass bells. I don't know why."

" Well, thank you! That's the first time anyone has ever described the experience as something other than disturbing. Or creepy."

" Oh, it's not disturbing to me. Just as clouds aren't disturbing, or soft rains, or dreams. They are all cool and silvery as well. Is it lonely?"

" You are quite a lady...have you ever considered eloping with an old ghost? " he asked leaning towards her chair.

She blushed.

" Sir Humphrey! I am a married woman!"

He glanced up at Edward, who seemed surprisingly amused.

" In this life...in this life yes..." Humphrey said. " But in the afterlife...Mon Dieu! The things I could show you! You must promise me you will consider it."

" Shame on you. " she said, laughing. " For making me blush."

" Forgive me...forgive me. It's not often I see a pretty face in this house!" he nodded toward Giles.

" Well!" Giles exclaimed, indignantly. " Are you convinced yet, Amanda?"

" Yes! Than you Sir Humphrey, for helping me overcome my prejudices.It was very generous of you."

He leaned forward again.

" I was going to tell you that Barkwater there bribed me with an easel, but since you are so charming, I've decided to allow you to believe that I am simply gallant." he winked.

" Does anybody want to play a game of Lunatic Eights?" Giles asked, producing a deck of squirming cards. " Humphrey can show you the full extent of his talents. He is a a superb cheat."

" Barkwater, I will demand satisfaction for that remark one day." he said, and they gathered around the card table. Amanda was relieved, as Lunatic Eights was a game that Eloise had taught her, and she had some proficiency for.

However, it soon became clear that Humphrey was indeed cheating, or at least using his ghostly talents for the wrong purpose. Though it was an enjoyable evening, she didn't win a single hand, but she walked away being sincerely impressed by Sir Humphrey.

She swore to Edward later as they walked towards a good apparition point, that she would never doubt again in the existence of anything supernatural.

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Lyrics--Amanda Ghost


	54. Chapter 54 Patsy

_**Amanda's Journal--February 1992**_

_I cannot believe how swiftly time is passing! Lottie is growing so fast I almost cry thinking of how soon it will be before she walks, and talks, and eventually goes to school. Already, she rolls around on her quilt, and manages a sort of crawl, by vigorously rowing her arms._

_She is very well behaved though, or so I suppose. I haven't been around babies and children a great deal, only Aunt Flora's two daughters, and they were already school age. I recall that one of my cousins...Eugenie, I believe, brought her baby to a Thanksgiving Day dinner. This was a few years before Mother and I moved here...before father died._

_That child screamed so much that nearly everyone was angry by the end of the day, and several of the relatives relocated to the veranda to have their turkey. It was very non-traditional, but one could only tolerate the constant crying for so long. Oh, it was horrible. He would draw in a great breath of air and expel it in an ear-splitting wail, and nothing would soothe him. I admit I have dreaded the idea that one of my children might be that way, but Charlotte seems to be fairly content in exploring and discovering things in her new world. She rarely cries and never screams. Mother says I should reserve judgment until she can walk, that's when she will get into things._

_Like Charlotte, I too am still discovering new things about this world. She however has no sense of what should or should not be, and is easily impressed with any knowledge. I am having to rediscover, to let go my previous conjectures and embrace what was once fantasy as reality._

_When Mother first told me of magic, I attributed it to telekinesis, and other, more practical, scientific explanations. She did not deny that the psychic mind, no doubt plays a role, but said that these people who use it, these witches and wizards, are so accustomed to using it, that they never think to dissect it, to find the source._

_That is one remarkable difference between Muggles and Wizards. Wizards are still allowed to believe in everything that cannot be explained. Muggles must have not only proof, but reason, and when they cannot agree on that reason, they have great wars to prove their theories._

_I am so very new to this world still that I admit to carrying, at times, a great skepticism. Edward bought for me a copy of Hogwarts a History, that I might understand better, the important role the school plays in Wizarding lives, and why they hold it in such high regard._

_I've already witnessed strange plants, flying brooms, magic wands, and enchanted objects. I have traveled by three of the four main methods of Wizarding transport, and have even been struck by a spell. Surely these events were designed to break a soul from skepticism, or convince of a person of her own insanity._

_I read the entire book, and was not surprised by anything it said, until it mentioned ghosts! Ghosts! Surely there could be no such thing, in either world. Magic can readily be explained.--certain persons possessing powers; the ability and control to channel these powers through such devices as wands, brooms, and certain phrases, resulting in more powerful results._

_But ghosts? To admit to such a possibility is to open the door between adult sensibility and childhood fantasies--and let in any number of impossible beings. Of course I stated my disbelief promptly, which led Edward to try and convince me. It was partly in fun; I would have dropped the matter easily but his mood was such that he teased me dearly about being afraid, and I simply couldn't let hi think that of me!_

_I agreed to meet a ghost, for the sake of being either convinced or proving my own theory. I wasn't really afraid, so to speak, but I was taught from birth to have a respect for the dead. A sort of superstition from home was to never taunt Fate, and that the possibility that a thing might not be true was no reason to get killed for the proof. Ghosts were always talked about in tones of whispered reverence; they haunted old houses, wells, and stretches of highway where there had been great tragedy._

_They haunted. They did not hold conversations, yet I was being told that in the Wizarding world, the ghosts were cognitive; differing only from the living in there appearance and permanence,_

_Mr. Barkwater's house was supposed to contain a ghost, and Edward made arrangements that we might meet with him. And that is precisely what occurred yesterday evening! _

_His name is Sir Humphrey Hample, and I'm sure I will never meet a more charming ghosts! I highly recommend him to anyone who wishes to believe in ghosts, as he has wonderful manners, and great wit. He was also polite enough to not leap from the cupboard and startle me!_

_Don't expect the meeting of a ghost to be a thrilling, hair-raising adventure; a seance was not even required ,as Sir Humphrey lives right in the attic. That was a trifle disappointing, but the evening itself was highly enjoyable. We four played Lunatic Eights until nearly midnight, listening as Sir Humphrey regaled us with the story of his life._

_I can't be sure, but I think he may of exaggerated it slightly to keep us from noticing that he was cheating! I know he was! I didn't win a single set, and I always win at least one set--and Edward two or three, but last night we all lost dreadfully._

_We are invited again for Brag, but I won't trust him in a gambling game! I hear that when the Wizards play it, you have to wear gloves to keep from being scalded...perhaps that is just rumor._

_I must go now, Mother should be bringing Lottie. She has kept her all night, and it seems like forever. I hope she hasn't spoiled her too much._

_**Amanda's Journal--February 1992**_

_My poor Lottie! Se took a tumble from her cradle today, but fortunately she landed unharmed on the parlor rug. Edward had brought the cradle down just this morning, saying he thought the nursery too cold this week for her to nap there. He has tried to get warming charms to heat it, but they never stay in that particular room._

_At first he was furious with the cradle and soothed Charlotte himself, telling her he would throw it away to please her. I pleaded with him not to s do that! It is such a beautiful cradle, and he put so much work into the carvings, wouldn't it be a great waste to see it smashed and thrown out?_

_My heart would have broken._

_After Charlotte calmed, he agreed to merely place a few charms on the cradle, one which would prevent it's tipping or falling, and another that keeps any hands but ours from taking her out. She cannot now even climb over the edge. When I complimented him on the spell, he admitted it was a charm that shopkeepers use to protect their display items._

_The cradle now safe, we fell to discussing whether or not she might have used just a little magic, because regardless of how we tipped it, it wouldn't turn in the same way again. I said I think she must have managed to crawl over, but Edward is certain she might have powers. We watch her everyday for signs of magic, but so far there has been no definite proof._

_Every evening Edward demonstrates charms and spells for her...summoning little items, creating flowers, rainbows, and prisms. She seems delighted, and the exercises are supposed to encourage her. _

_I know he is greatly concerned, but I am sure he wouldn't dote on her less if she were just a squib, like me. We are both just worried that we might yet be forced out of this world, and then what would we do?_

_I won't worry about those things just now...Aunt Eloise has promised in the past to do all that she can either prevent such an expulsion, or assist us in any way possible if it did occur._

_For now, I am content to love my husband and daughter, and to enjoy the pleasures of life._

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On the Monday following Amanda's meeting with Sir Humphrey, Patsy rushed into the kitchen, tardy as usual at ten past nine. She buttoned her cuffs hastily, and tied on her apron, as she began preparing a late breakfast. Amanda soon joined her, Charlotte no longer allowing her the luxury of sleeping in. Mother and child were both bathed, dressed, and in good spirits.

Edward never ate breakfast himself. He had long ago grown accustomed to not eating it, and now considered it vile. In truth he ate seldom at any time, and then only sparingly. He complained that overindulgence was the sin of mankind, and was equivalent to suicide for the man's constitution. However, he believed that women must be humored and fed frequently, to keep their bodies, minds and dispositions in perfect alignment. He also thought they required unnatural amounts of sugar.

She was used to a different sort of culinary lifestyle. In her world, there had never been a meal served with less than six dishes, however a lady was trained form birth to never make a public spectacle by glutting herself. A girl forcing large bites of food from a heaping plate and into her gaping mouth was as unpardonable and unattractive as a girl scratching her underarms, or performing some other revolting personal grooming in public.

Eating for appetite was done in private, eating in public was a courtesy.

Edward seemed to think eating was one of those annoyances, like breathing, that he simply had to do. This was unsettling to Patsy who believed breakfast to be a vast spread of eggs, sausages, oatmeal, toast, and coffee.

Amanda thought it should involve french toast, cottage cheese, thick slices of fried ham in chicory gravy, and a glass of cold milk. They had swiftly learned to compromise. Patsy sat down to a plate of eggs and sausage, Amanda to french toast and ham.

Charlotte was placed in her high chair and given her toy wand to play with. Occasionally, Amanda would offer her small tastes of egg or sweet milk.

" Did you hear me come in last night?" Patsy began cheerfully, by way of a morning salutation." No, of course you did not! If you had, you would have already said ' Pat, what kept you out so late?' Wouldn't you? Oh for sure, you would have...and I couldn't have lied! I would have to admit that I had been seeing a gentleman. I know what you're thinking now! How cruel men can be. How callous. You are probably thinking of how men treat maids and serving girls. But just don't think that of Phillip! No, just don't think it of him!"

Amanda stifled a smile at Patsy dramatic, artistic speech.

" All right." she said. It had been difficult at first, but she was slowly growing accustomed to Patsy. the discovery that their birthdays were only six days apart had given them a common ground of interest, and the fact that Patsy had not been allowed to use magic until she was grown, made her more sympathetic to towards Amanda.

" No, no...I am serious!" she said coloring." If you would just ask about him, you would understand.. yes, understand everything about him. I'll bet you are wild with curiosity, aren't you? As to what type of man could turn my head. I am usually so sensible! My grandmother used to say I was too sensible to catch a man. But I tell you, Phillip is different! Oh, he is very quiet, the poor dear. Heavens! I just called him dear! What you must think of me! Calling a man dear before I've known him past a fortnight! Well, I won't say it again, though I might not help myself from thinking it. Do you think that wicked of me?"

Even Charlotte turned to Patsy as though interested in her dialogue. At least, Amanda thought, Lottie should not have trouble learning to talk and she wondered briefly what it might be like to have Patsy, Amele, and Eloise talking in the same room.

" If you're affectionate towards him, I don't think it is wicked." she answered.

" Well, we are not exactly affectionate, least, he hasn't said much toward the matter. Except for last night when we were walking back from the Muggle theater, and I was telling him what a fine movie I thought it was, and I did, only now I can't recall it's name. He took my hand and said, ' Patsy, I rather like you.' Isn't that sweet? That's the type of man Phillip is! I tell you I was shocked. Too tongue-tied to answer, can you imagine?"

Amanda could not, but she agreed that he sounded sweet.

" Oh he is...he is. Perfect gentleman. I said to myself after I got in last night, when you didn't hear me...I said, ' Pat, girl, you have a real gentleman now and you're going to have to keep him'. That's what I said. What is it Charlotte? No...you can't have that. What a dear baby she is. I should want one just as dear. I wonder how Philip feels about children? "

" Well...you could ask him." Amanda suggested, taking Charlotte out to sit on her lap.

" Oh! What would I do if he didn't like children? Wouldn't I be heartbroken! Now I've got that to worry over. It's just dreadful, you can't just look at a man, and think what fine, brown eyes he has...but you have to fret now, and worry later over all sorts of things! Does he like children? Does he like the sea? Does he prefer fish or chicken? I haven't even got to the questions like what color he favors, and does he go to church! I don't even know his parent's names!"

Patsy sat with a great sigh, overwhelmed now by how much work she had yet ahead of her.

Amanda passed Charlotte to her, and began to clean away the dishes herself.

" So...he has brown eyes, does he?" she prompted.

" Yes. Just as brown as you please. And hair the same, and curly, like a girls." Patsy sighed again. this time more longingly. " I was hoping he would come around last week and ask if I wanted to go to Madam Puddifoot's. I always wanted to go there, I've heard so much about it, and they say at Valentines she dresses it up with floating cupids and everything. But Phillip he is Muggle raised so he doesn't think of places like that, and I guess I am too old; it must really be only a place for the kids. "

" He isn't a Wizard then?"

" Not he, but his family is. Well, half and half I believe. His brother is a wizard. Sin school and bright boy, Philip says. They are all proud of him because he is the captain of the Qudditch team, and Phillip believes he'll be professional one day. Have you ever read any Wizarding novels?"

Amanda blinked at the sudden change of subject.

" Not yet. " she admitted. " Not novels."

" Oh, I have to give you one. It's by Penny Parry She is simply delicious. Are you certain you have never read 'The last quest for the Golden Vampire?' "

" I am sure."

" ' The Crest'? 'Oberon'? 'The Lush Room'? But you must have read just a snippet of ' The Star Crossed'? Oh let me tell you a little about it! No...I shouldn't. Well, I just have to tell you a little. It is about a girl called Jesda who is being sacrificed by an evil Wizard named...Hath? Hart? Something H'ish. She is rescued by a blind beggar called Jorund, and he is banished to the Northern realm. Jesda flees to find him, and then Jorund and the count have a battle with fire on a glacier, and Jesda falls into the sea and drowns. To bring her back, Jorund cuts out his own heart, and burns it!"

Amanda glanced nervously at Charlotte, who appeared to be listening intently.

" That sounds...interesting." she said.

" I'll find it for you. Then you tell me if you like it. But don't say you hate it! It was the first Parry novel I ever read. And it was very special to me. If you don't like it, I'll cry!"

After breakfast had been cleared away, Patsy went in search of the book. She returned, quite disheveled, two hours later.

" I thought it was lost! You'd never believe where it was! I had to go all the way to China to get it! Honestly, I was all the way under my bed, and it was under my clothes, and a biscuit wrapper, and three notebooks; all behind my Sunday shoes!"

Amanda had once made the mistake of peering into Patsy's room when she had the door wedged open. She had quickly realized that the reason the door was wedged open, was because it had no room to close, and Patsy had been hurriedly shrinking items and cramming them under her bed to make more room.

From the time Patsy had first began earning her own income, she had begun to collect items of whimsy, and accumulate articles of clothing. She had move only the two trunks into her rooms, but the trunks, much like Mary Poppins' carpetbag, appeared to be bottomless. Patsy had taken out at least two hundred outfits, twenty pairs of shoes, dozens of handmade throw pillows in the shapes of hearts and stars, posters, photographs, robes, hats, belts, scarves, and a pink fur rug that was either a poor representation of a small bear, or was a real fur rug from some alien creature Amanda had never had the fortune to meet.

She also unpacked three crates of trinkets such as snow globes, flower vases, ant farms, sun-catchers, and statues of animals made from brightly colored plaster. As the final touch, she had also brought a parakeet, which was named Udolpho and was messier than three owls would have been. She had to line the entire floor of her room with old issues of the Daily Prophet, since she had been repeatedly unsuccessful with barrier charms around his cage. Udolpho loved to throw birdseed, and at even a great distance he could manage to get nearly all the chaff into Patsy's bed.

Since Udolpho's arrival, Crisp had taken to eying him hungrily whenever he could; and even spent an hour every afternoon clinging to Patsy's narrow window sill--staring relentlessly in at the much smaller, nervous bird. This exercise seemed merely for the joy of watching Udolpho have an apoplectic fit every day.

Amanda wondered if she were the only woman in the world who had a maid that could not fit into her own room for the clutter? She said nothing about it though, because Patsy did all of her other work without shirking, was immaculately neat in appearance and actually liked to chop onions...a task that Amanda loathed. For some strange reason, no matter how potent the onion, it never teared up Patsy's eyes, even when everyone else, including Udolpho, seemed to be moist.

Amanda decided that she liked Patsy.

Edward liked Patsy as well.

Charlotte liked Patsy.

Patsy liked everyone.

And Crisp liked Udolpho. A lot.

It seemed as though everything was, at last, perfect.

Therefore it was absolutely shattering to receive a note from Stella, in April , saying that Aunt Eloise had suddenly, and inexplicably, fallen deathly ill.


	55. Chapter 55 Boils and Sores

_I can see you turn away  
When I ask what for  
You say it isn't anything  
But I'm not sure_

Somethin' underneath the skin  
Won't let you be  
And you try to keep it in  
But I can see

The woman before me  
Must have been hard on you  
'Cause that hurt in your eyes  
I never put you through  
Sometimes, I think  
You must be talking to  
The woman before me and you 

* * *

Amanda's first instinct was to ask Edward to take her to see Aunt Eloise. Accustomed as she was to him obliging her in such matters, she was stunned to silence when he adamantly refused to take her out of the house.He quickly explained through, that he had heard, through whatever mysterious source he attained his knowledge, that the illness Eloise had contracted was seriously contagious, and quite possibly fatal. With no known cure, he simply could not risk Amanda and Lottie becoming infected.

He would not even allow her to owl the hospital, or to open any owls that came to the house, as it soon became understood that it was through the post that the dreadful disease was being so rapidly spread, from friend to friend, parent to child, customer to merchant. Parents were advised to ignore owls from their children, and to send no owls in turn to the school. Amanda and Patsy agreed to stay indoors, and to keep the windows and Floo closed, until the Healers could find a solution.

She spent that first day reading, coddling Charlotte, and worrying. There was no mention in the paper about the scourge--but there were a few more death announcements than was ordinary for that time of year. That evening Edward Flooed Winter , only to be answered by Stella, who claimed that Winter too had fallen under the mysterious disorder, and that she had contacted the hospital.

Both Eloise and Winter were taken to St. Mungo's, and while waiting there for word of their condition, Stella began to show the first symptoms. That evening, they heard from Giles that several persons from the Ministry had caught this new disease, which was nicknamed Toad Pox, due to the strange texture that occurred on the skin after the first fever ended and the first set of hallucinations began.

He had acquired a bulletin that one of the healers at St. Mungo's had hastily compiled. According to them, only Pure-bloods could catch and become sick with Toad pox. Half-bloods could carry it, pass it to pure-bloods, and experience mild fevers and hallucinations, but seemed to be safe from any serious fevers, death, and the actual skin eruptions. Muggles and Squibs were completely immune.

They also posted that so far there were two distinct types of the pox-the first one struck first with a fainting spell, then fever, nausea, dizziness, bleeding from the eyes, hallucinations, and severe thirst. After all of this the skin turned hard and calloused, before being split into hundreds of tiny cracks by some inside force. The complications from this were pain, infection, gangrene, itching, and blood-loss, to name a few.

In the second type, four different degrees of fever and hallucinations occurred, varying in severity; bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mouth, then the skin would turn toad-like. Instead of bursting as in the first case-it developed large, fist-sized boils that soon began to spew yellow fluid which would promptly infect any area it had touched. Even boils grew boils, until the patient was one large knobbly mess. Strangely, the patients with boils, though miserable, recovered faster. The patients who developed the skin splits seemed to die more rapidly of heart failure and asphyxiation, much to the healer's confusion.

After Edward was certain that Amanda was at no risk of catching the sickness, he agreed to take her to St. Mungo's to visit her mother, grandmother and aunt. Before he could fulfill this promise, however, he too began to be gravely ill. One moment he was pulling on his cloak in front of the study fireplace, and the next he was laid out on the rug unconscious...his cloak tail in the cinders. Before Amanda could get to her to ask for help Patsy was stricken with a sudden fever and collapsed in the kitchen.

Amanda had too little knowledge about magical maladies to be entirely effective. Without magic, a means of transportation and an unaffected person to contact for assistance, what could she do? She could do the best that she was able, energetically applying steams, compresses and febrifuges though they did little to assuage the fevers or hallucinations and her patients attacked her with their fists whenever she lay her hands on their skin.

Upstairs and downstairs she went, carrying water and towels, stopping only to nurse the baby whenever she was wakened by the terrified screams of Edward and Patsy. She made weak broth, boiled all the linens in a great pot and kept a wary eye on the dwindling supply of stovewood and foodstuffs. After the first fevers were passed, she was able to look at the chart from St. Mungo's and verify that Edward had the first type of Pox, and Patsy, poor girl, the second.

The screams! Amanda wisely confiscated the wands and locked them away in a drawer, fearing what might come from them being used under such circumstances. Edward screamed for his wand to be returned. Patsy screamed for hers. They screamed for Amanda, screamed for mercy, screamed for very strange things at random.

Edward cursed vehemently beneath his breath at a ' she' who was not, she suspected herself. He mentioned too Elias' name when he was agitated, and long dialogs on wands when he was mild and exhausted.

Patsy, convinced that a vampire was biting her ankles, became so hysterical that Amanda eventually had to lock the girl in her room to prevent her from harming herself. Patsy spent the next two days clawing at the door and screaming until she went hoarse. When Amanda would go in, she would cling to her skirt, and beg, and cry for relief.

They were thirsty, they were cold, they couldn't bear to be touched by the softest cloth, couldn't bear the noise of their own breathing. They kept Amanda so busy that she could not eat or sleep, and was constantly worrying about Charlotte, who was now crawling around and trying to stand. Unable to leave her safely in one place unattended, she had to carry her every where she went. Eventually she designed a rickety pen, out of chairs, and corralled her there whenever she needed to go into one of the sickrooms.

It helped, but she lived in constant fear that Lottie was going to crash the chairs over on herself at any moment, or crawl up the stairs, or into the fireplace. By the time the first fevers had passed, Amanda was exhausted and weak.

The first fever did evaporate, just as the bulletin promised, and she breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. For a moment, both Edward and Patsy were capable of thinking and speaking rationally; though they were very weak. Amanda tried not to let them see how worried she was, or how afraid, but Edward noted her haggard appearance immediately.

He chastised her softly, and wanted to see Charlotte, who was blissfully unaware that anything was out of the ordinary--except that for the last three mornings, her mother had neglected to see that she was safely shod, and had let her eat nearly all the sugar out of the sugar bowl without complaining.

Amanda wanted to ask what she should do. She tried, but Edward had already begun lapsing back into a semi-consciousness.

Patsy claimed that she felt well enough to get up and help, but as soon as she stood, she began to bleed. It was the closest that Amanda had ever come in her short life to utter panic--when Patsy called to her in a weak frightened voice. She had rushed from the kitchen into the maids room, only to discover the girl covered in blood, which seemed to spilling like scarlet tears from her eyes. More gushed from her nose.

Amanda took her gently, and helped her back to the bed; but as soon as she lay back she began coughing and gagging, and writhing desperately,s he turned and vomited a great mouthful of phlegmy blood into Amanda's lap. Amanda was not a particularly squeamish person, but she had her limitations-- it was all she could do to keep from being sick as well while she cleaned Patsy, and changed her gown. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she had not eaten in the last twelve hours, or else that might have been her undoing.

She found that a very cold compress, and her grandmothers old cure of brown paper held in the mouth caused the bleeding to abate, and eventually cease, save for a tiny trickle from beneath one eyelid as Patsy slept.

Taking up the soiled linens, she began scrubbing them in the kitchen sink, rubbing out the stains as best she could in water so cold it made her fingers ache. Charlotte fell asleep on a pallet at her feet, and Amanda sat down briefly to rest.

She knew that she should eat, but the recent episode, the evidence of which was drying on her dress and apron, had stolen away whatever appetite she might have been able to summon. She drowsed for a moment, head on her arms, while a pot of white laundry boiled, and the baby slept.

The sharp, unfamiliar pealing of the doorbell startled her from her daze, and for a moment she couldn't remember what it was. It wasn't the bell in Edward's room, which he was supposed to ring when in need of assistance, and it wasn't the clock in the hall...

It rang again.

Amanda stood quickly and took Charlotte up into her arms. It wasn't the cleanest place for her to be, but she couldn't leave her in the kitchen with the boiling kettle wither.

Reaching the front door, Amanda, took her wand out, and held it concealed in her skirt folds, as she unlocked the door, and peered through the narrow crack.

" My gods Amanda! Are you all right?"

It was Philo Fenwick, looking particularly unwell himself. He took in the site of her. Her white apron and pink dress were splashed in blood, her hair was damp and falling down on one side. He noted the red, raw hands, dark circles, and the general posture of fatigue. The baby, in a rumpled damp dress, fidgeted and Amanda nearly toppled from the movement.

" Here..." he offered, reaching too suddenly to take Lottie. Amanda pulled back slightly.

" You'd best not. Their both sick...Edward, and Patsy...our maid."

" I figured as much. Here, let me in. I can't catch it, you know."

" Can't you?" she asked despondently, stepping aside to allow him through without argument. She was too desperate, too worried and too tired to question his purpose.

He shook his head, and began nervously rubbing his left shoulder, a habit she had noticed in him when he was thinking.

" I see.." he said at last, after looking around at the disordered state of the house." Is everyone sick? Eloise as well?"

It was her time to nod, and she was about to explain that she simply did not have anyway of getting her patients to the healers, when the bell from Patsy's room sounded.

" Excuse me.." she said hastily.

" Wait.Let me hold her." he held his arms out for the baby, and after a moment's hesitation, Amanda handed her over.

She returned quickly, wiping her face. Patsy had needed more compresses, and was now hallucinating and bleeding simultaneously. Fresh blood smeared Amanda's cheeks and hands.From upstairs came a low wail that caused Philo to shudder involuntarily.

" Mr. Fenwicke.."

" Please...Philo."

" Philo...would you be so kind as to please help me? Please? I'm afraid they both might die...I haven't anyway of doing a thing for them." There. He must guess now secret.

" Of course I'll help!" he smiled wanly. " I have every intention of it. I have to explain though...you see, I came by at first to see if you know...if you have heard anything about Giles Barkwater?"

Amanda paused, thinking.

" No...Well, not since three days ago. He Flooed to give us this information." she pulled the crumpled bulletin from her pocket. " Why? is something wrong?"

" No. " he smiled quickly. " I...was supposed to meet him somewhere yesterday, and he didn't' show, is all."

" Perhaps he too, is ill."

Philo inexplicably brightened at that idea.

" He might be...and he'll be at St. Mungo's, if it's so. Here, why don't the two of you freshen up, and I will Floo to St. Mungo's immediately and see what they advise us to do."

Amanda looked down at her dress, and turned crimson.

" Oh, my goodness...yes. I'll only be a moment." she said, taking Charlotte back.

She hurried upstairs, wondering to what extent she could trust Philo. She knew very little of him, he had never been one of Eloise's more vocal friends. A philosopher or sorts, his opinion was rarely welcome among the more conservative minds of the Pureblood traditionalists. Even courting her, as Eloise called it, he had been unconventionally polite and reserved. Almost disinterested compared to Martin.

Still, even if he were the dark lord himself in disguise, she needed his help. She hastily changed her dress, and washed her face and hands. Then she did the same for Charlotte, before stuffing a few supplies into a bag, which she shrank to fit in her pocket. She thanked Edward silently for including that charm in her wand, as well as the few handy charms she had been utilizing all week to lessen her burdens. Still, with the maker ill, the wand produced it's magic only anemically at best.

By the time they made the downstairs Philo had returned, with four medi-wizards, who promptly transported the two patients to St. Mungo's. Amanda breathed a sigh of relief, and let Philo Apparate her and Charlotte along, where she was reassured that everything was in good hands, and was allowed to visit her mother and grandmother. Eloise was very ill, and was not allowed visitors yet.

Stella, except for the ugly shrinking boils, seemed to be in good enough spirits, until she saw Amanda's condition. She made her sit down, and demanded that one of the assistants bring her something to eat. Soon she had a large tray of food, and despite her protests, she ate--feeding small bites to Charlotte as well, when she would take them.

" I think she has grown since I saw her last." Stella commented thickly.

" She is standing now. Or at least...she is trying."

" Oh! Already?"

" Yes." Amanda looked around and sighed. " I have seen this hospital too many times."

" Isn't it just charming though?" Winter commented form the next bed. " So very...green."

A healer soon found his way in to tell Amanda that Patsy and Edward were being treated with the newest potions; and that they seemed to be stabilizing nicely. She visited Edward briefly, before the sleeping draught took over, and told him about Philo. He frowned tiredly.

" That's strange..." he commented at last. " I must speak to Giles...about it...soon." He had trouble speaking, the skin about his mouth and eyes had begun to toughen and break. The Healer urged her to leave him in peace, so she wandered down to Patsy's room, and found the girl just beginning her outbreak of boils. There was no more blood, but she looked very pale.

" How are you?" she asked, for want of anything better.

" Fine...what's that you've got? Oh...my book. " Patsy smiled, weakly.

" I brought it along to read."

" Do you like it?"

Amanda had not started it yet, but she humored the other woman.

" Yes. You were right. It's very well written."

" Isn't Jorund simply edible? What a gentleman! I wonder how Philip is doing without me." Patsy sighed. " Do you think he still remembers me?"

" I'm sure he couldn't forget you so soon."

" What is today?"

" Wednesday."

" Oh...it's been ages since I've seen him. And look at me, ruined. "

" You're not ruined. They'll have you healed shortly."

" I don't think so. I believe I am doomed. Have you ever read the ''The Blue Witch of Elberburry' ? That was such a gripping book. I swear I couldn't put it down...but it gave me the terrors. The girl in there was called Roberna, and she was a orphaned witch who had to go live with her step-aunt and uncle in this enormous.." she broke off to cough fitfully.

" Perhaps you should tell it another time." Amanda suggested.

" Oh, no! There might not be another time, as you'll see. She was a good girl, very humble, and she fell in love with the handsome gardener, whose wife had died tragically the year before. Her Uncle and Aunt didn't approve, of course, but they were Muggles and couldn't do anything except threaten to force her out. Then, one day the girl mysteriously came down with some romantic disease.Quite an ordinary one, but no one could heal her, it just grew worse and worse. Well, since she was a witch she knew it was some evil being worked on her, so she swore to find the culprit. Then she died. "

" Oh..." Amanda winced.

" Yes. They thought she was getting well, but she died, and the gardener was terribly upset, so he sent for a medium to bring her ghost back. When she came back, she began to solve the mystery, and found out that her aunt was a witch too, and had been hexing her to death, because she was jealous, and wanting the gardener for her own."

Against her better judgment, Amanda had to ask;

" And what happened?"

" Oh, that's the best part! You see, in a fit of rage, the ghost pushes her aunt from the top of the castle. Did I say they lived in a castle? They did...one of those mysterious grey stone castles. And Roberna's spirit entered the body of her aunt, and she came back to life, only she was crippled...from the fall, and she married the gardener. The Uncle catching them together, thought it was his wife, and in a jealous rage, he blew their brains out." Patsy imitated a pistol with her hand and forefinger, and 'shot' at the wall.

Amanda's expression was something between a smile of disbelief, and a perplexed look of distaste. She was not quite sure whether or not that sounded like a good book, or a Gothic soap opera; but she quickly gave Patsy a reassuring smile, and promised she would read the book if Patsy promised to get well.

Patsy insisted that if was highly doubtful, and went on to quote several instances of young women who were poisoned, hexed, or otherwise murdered due to jealousy, and began to suspect people one by one. Amanda, after her previous tragic encounter with Demogene's insane jealousy, felt uncomfortable with this conversation, and urged Patsy to not think on it anymore, and to rest.

Soon Patsy grew too tired to speak, and the boils began to experience boils of their own so that her head was too heavy to hold erect anyhow. Amanda promised her that she would be back shortly, and with a sad, anxious sigh to herself, she returned to Stella's bedside.

* * *

Lyrics --T. Yearwood 


	56. Chapter 56 The Halls of St Mungo's

_**Perhaps love is like a resting place, a shelter from the storm**_

_**It exists to give you comfort, it is there to keep you warm**_

_**And in those times of trouble when you are most alone**_

_**The memory of love will bring you home**_

_**Perhaps love is like a window, perhaps an open door**_

_**It invites you to come closer, it wants to show you more**_

_**And even if you lose yourself and don't know what to do**_

_**The memory of love will see you through**_

* * *

**She spent two days sleeping in whatever chair offered the most comfortable posture, and eating whatever they fed to her. She visited back and forth between all the rooms. On the second morning she was allowed to visit Eloise, who had, against all predictions, began recovering.**

**At first, the sight of her aunt had been quite a shock. The older woman was much thinner and very haggard. Her cheekbones, always sharp, were startlingly pronounced now, and dark circles under her eyes gave her a hollow, deathbed appearance. Most shocking of all however, was her skin. It had split repeatedly, and had been healed continuously, was pasty and criss-crossed with tiny, healing pink scars. She looked as though she had been flogged with a very fine whip.**

**Other than that, she might as well be stepping out for a party. A soon as she could grip her wand she had changed her pasty green hospital gown to a shimmering sapphire dressing gown, and swept her hair up into one of the many elegant styles she alone knew the spell to complete.**

**" They say I'll have more fever, therefore I am not allowed to go home." she stated gruffly." Well, I'll show them."**

**Amanda was no healer, but she could tell immediately that her aunt was still much too ill to be sitting up, let alone leaving, but she wisely kept silent. Eloise's stubborn resolve was no doubt what had brought her this far.**

**Before she could change the subject the door, which had been left ajar, suddenly pushed open and Philo stood in the open space.**

**" Amanda? I--"**

**" You just get out of here!" Eloise barked at him. " I don't want anyone seeing me this way!"**

**Philo pulled back, closing the door slightly, while still attempting to talk to Amanda.**

**" I just wanted to tell you that E--"**

**" I said out, boy! I am talking to Amanda now, you may speak to her when I am finished, and not a second sooner." she threw her teacup at the door, and with a sheepish look, Philo crept the rest of the way out and slammed the door.**

**" It might be important." Amanda said. **

**" Why would Philo have anything important to say? Come to think of it,why is Philo even here?" Eloise asked.**

**Amanda gave her a brief explanation of everything that had occurred while picking up broken fragments of the tea cup.**

**" Is that man Barkwater here?" Eloise asked, softening a little as she considered how strained Amanda must be.**

**" Yes." He had been discovered recovering from a very mild case of the Pox.**

**" That doesn't surprise me." Eloise snorted.**

**" What doesn't?"**

**" Never mind. Go out and see what Philo wants. I am tired again, and I do believe that green potion they give makes me slightly irritable. Do I seem irritable to you Amanda?"**

**" Of course not." Amanda lied.**

**" Good. You will tell me of course if I start seeming a little short of temper? I do hate being cross."**

**" You know I would never allow you to make a spectacle of yourself." Amanda smiled. Dropping the broken glass into the bin, she also knew she would not risk pointing anything of the sort out to Eloise while she was actually armed.**

**Bidding her aunt farewell, she went out to find Philo pacing the corridor rubbing his shoulder. He too seemed rather cross.**

**" Edward wants to see you." he stated briskly. " and if no one will miss me, I am going to treat myself to some tea. In an unbroken cup!" he turned and began marching off, muttering loudly about how he had been playing messenger all day, and what thanks did it get him?**

**Edward was sitting propped on a stack of large cushions,looking exhausted and somewhat apprehensive. He had learned from Healer Penny, who had been covering the shortage of healers on this floor, that it wasn't the actual skin splitting that caused scarring, but the desperate clawing of the patient trying to relieve the agony. The hospital now offered the choice of restraints, but Penny warned that he should be certain before hand, because once the straps were in place they could not be removed until the episode was safely passed.**

**To Amanda's horror, Edward had agreed to these straps, but demanded that she leave, and not come anywhere near the room, for he didn't trust himself as far as what he might say under those circumstances.**

**" I wouldn't mind! " she insisted. He smiled weakly and patted her hand. An un-natural warmth in his skin fore-warned of a dangerous fever soon to rise.**

**" I would. " he said. " I insist on retaining some vestiges of dignity. How is Charlotte?" his change of subject was firm and meant that he would not hesitate to ask the healers to have his wife bodily removed from the room for her own good. She sighed.**

**" Well. They have set up a nursery...there are many children here waiting for their parents."**

**" I hope they aren't a bad influence." he smiled.**

**" It's good for her to see others her own age."**

**" Nonsense. It never did me any good to be around people my age."**

**Amanda smiled. What could she say to that?**

**" Can I bring you anything?" he was beginning to pale, as though in pain.**

**" No...no thank you. I...I feel I must rest. Please..."**

**Amanda reluctantly released his hand and slowly backed away, though he motioned her impatiently to go. By some spell the healers were alerted to the rising fever, and two of them rushed past Amanda. One was carrying an ugly set of rubber straps in his hands.**

**Amanda put her fist in her mouth and hurried back to the nursery where she rescued Charlotte from the evil influence of toddler social expectations. She wandered around a bit, unsure of what to do. After a half-hour she collided with a healer who informed her that Stella had finally recovered enough to be released, even though she was still slightly bumpy. Stella was so relieved to be released that she hurried her daughter and grand-daughter to the Floo network, after a hasty goodbye to Eloise and Winter, and took Amanda and Charlotte back to Rookwood.**

**Amanda wandered into the kitchen and distracted herself by creating a hot meal from the few ingredients kept on hand. Stella lent a little help with what magic she could muster, and the three of them sat down to a very quiet table. Charlotte was really too tired to eat, and Amanda was more interested in pushing the potatoes around with her fork, making paths in the gravy, than actually eating. Stella however devoured her portion with pleasure.**

**" Mmm...sorry, but I was so hungry! They said I might be after the bumps began to desist. Do they look any better?"**

**" A bit." Amanda answered.**

**Stella scrutinized her daughter with a knowing eye.**

**" He will be fine." she said. " You however, need to sleep."**

**" I couldn't possibly. You go ahead, though. You need to regain your strength."**

**" I don't know how you managed. You always were resourceful though. I guess that is a Garrett trait."**

**" I was beginning to be very afraid though. "**

**" I don't blame you." Stella watched as Amanda's eyes began to droop slightly. She had suspected that she wouldn't sleep without some assistance and had taken the liberty of applying a small, tasteless sleeping lozenge to her beverage. As usual, Amanda drained her cup when she would not touch her meal, and now she was beginning to feel the effects.**

**" I couldn't do anything...for them." Amanda yawned. " Maybe I am a little tired. I feel so guilty about sleeping though."**

**Stella reached across to stroke her hair. " There is nothing you can do now. The Healer's have everything under control. Even Eloise is alive and well, and they told us they had little hope..."**

**Amanda nodded in sleepy misery, and rose from her chair.**

**" I'll take Charlotte to bed...but I think I'll just rest. Do you need anything?"**

**Stella pressed a kiss to Charlotte's brown curls . " No, I'm following. Let me just blow out these lamps." **

**Amanda stumbled upstairs and into her old bed, taking time only to remove both her shoes and Charlotte's dress before tucking them both between the clean, fresh sheets. She was soon luxuriating in her first full night's sleep in three weeks.**

**--**

**" Mamma..."**

**Amanda turned over in her sleep, dreaming of Charlotte. In the dream, the little girl was running towards her, carrying an armful of wildflowers.**

**" Mamma..." she called to her, beaming.**

**Amanda smiled at the vision, then jerked awake as something pulled her hair. Opening her eyes, she found her self nose to nose with Charlotte, who smiled in delight.**

**'' Mamma...'' she babbled.**

**" That's right Lottie!" Amanda smiled, propping herself on her elbow. " I'm Mamma."**

**Lottie pulled her hair again.**

**" And that is Mamma's hair you are pulling." Amanda said, gently disengaging her daughter's fingers and kissing them.**

**" Oh, this is wonderful! Let's go show grandmother what you can say!" she scooped Lottie into her arms, and got up from the bed.She hurried excitedly down the hall.**

**" Mother?" she knocked on Stella's door.**

**A reply that sounded vaguely rude sounded from within.**

**Amanda went in.**

**" Anything wrong, pet?" Stella mumbled sleepily. She raised up partly, her eyes still closed. The bumps were smaller.**

**" Mother...Lottie spoke! Her first word...she said 'mamma!' "**

**Stella groaned and fell back to the pillows.**

**" Is that all?"**

**" It's important!" Amanda said.**

**" I know...but it would be more important at a decent hour." her mother whined. " What time is it?"**

**" Seven."**

**" What are you doing up at seven?"**

**" Lottie always gets up at seven. "**

**" Oh gods...she is related to Winter."**

**" Lottie...say 'mamma' for Grandmother."**

**Charlotte blew a few bubbles, and smiled.**

**" Mamma." Amanda urged**

**Charlotte patted her mother's shoulder instead.**

**" That's right. Mamma's shoulder. Can you say 'Mamma'? Please?"**

**Lottie persisted with some more burbling sounds, and then began wriggling to get down.**

**" She did say it..." Amanda said, defensively.**

**" If she is anything like you... she won't repeat it until she is two." Stella turned over and pulled her covers over her head.**

**Amanda bounced Charlotte for a moment, waiting for her mother to say anything else.**

**" We're going downstairs. Do you want anything?" she asked.**

**" Mmmmnour."**

**" Pardon?"**

**" Another hour." Stella said grumpily.**

**Amanda went back into her own room to dress. Lottie sat in the middle of the bed, and watched with interest, playing with her toy wand.**

**" Mamma." she chirped suddenly.**

**Amanda turned to face her, hands on hips.**

**" You are doing that on purpose, aren't you?" she asked.**

**" Mamma." Charlotte repeated, and chuckled gaily.**

**Buttoning her blouse, and pulling her hair back before picking Charlotte back up, Amanda gave a disheartened sigh.**

**" How about breakfast, then. Are you hungry? I think you are hungry..." she peered closely at her. " Can you say 'hungry'?"**

**Lottie blew more bubbles.**

**" I thought not."**

**While she was boiling the water for oatmeal, a large owl arrived at the window, wearing a scarf of green. It was the same green the healers at St. Mungo's wore.**

**Taking the letter from him, she offered him some dry oats, which he refused politely before flying off. She tore open the seal.**

**It was a brief note from Edward saying that he unaccountably had survived, despite the healers worst intentions, and would be home the following morning. The new potions had worked miracles, and the epidemic was no longer a threat.**

**Shortly after his note, the Floo sounded, and Winter stepped through.**

**" Amanda! What a surprise. Well, actually it isn't, but I had to say something."**

**" How are you feeling, grandmother?"**

**" Oh...a little dizzy, I suppose. They gave me an injection. I loathe injections. You would think that with all the advances in magic, they could find a better way to get things inside of a person than jabbing it through the skin."**

**" I agree." Amanda nodded, pulling a chair out for the older woman, who was rubbing a red spot on her arm.**

**" And how is Lottie today?" Winter asked. Lottie was patiently waiting for Amanda to resume feeding her. She waved at Winter.**

**" She said her first word this morning. " Amanda announced proudly.**

**" Oh? What was it?"**

**" Mamma."**

**" Oh. I thought since she is so bright it might be something big, like prestidigitation."**

**" Well, I don't know what she says to herself after she is in bed."**

**" Your mother, you know...was terrified of the dark. She used to keep us running in and out all the time. Her first word was 'Lumos'. She was very unhappy when it didn't cause the lights to turn on. Where is she anyway?"**

**" Oh...she's getting dressed." Amanda said too quickly.**

**" She's sleeping in, isn't she?" Winter smiled wryly.**

**" Yes. But just for an hour. It's good for her to rest."**

**" Bah. I never sleep in, and I am in perfect heath.Well...usually. It's sloth, that's what it is. You are a three-toed sloth Stella." Winter called up at the ceiling.**

**" Well, and good morning to you too." drawled Stella from the kitchen door. She was tying the sash of her red dressing gown, and trying not to yawn.**

**" Oh...there's my baby." Winter said. " Come here and sit by me,and tell me how you feel."**

**Stella narrowed her eyes briefly, and in the playful manner that came so easily between the three older women. Amanda felt strangely left out at times.**

**Stella pretended to sit on Winter's knee.**

**" I think I still have fever.Check it Mum."**

**" I think you still have bumps!" Winter stated. " Better sit over there, so you don't ruin Charlotte's appetite."**

**" No sense in worrying about that." Amanda reassured them. " When will Aunt Eloise be home?"**

**" I have precisely one hour to fancy myself mistress of Rookwood before her return. " Winter replied. Taking out her wand , she pointed it at Lottie's oatmeal.**

**" Purple!" she exclaimed. Amanda nearly dropped the spoon as the cereal turned a shocking shade of grape.**

**" Oatmeal is so boring in it's natural state. " Winter stated, matter-of-factly.**

**" How did you do that?"**

**" Easy. I say the word 'purple', but I think the word 'viola'. It's a little trickery. See, I can turn it yellow...or orange."**

**Charlotte squealed in delight.**

**" I can also make it grow tentacles, if you'd like?"**

**" No! Thank you...I don't want her to develop some strange phobia due to being traumatized by her oatmeal bowl."**

**" Suit yourself. Stella used to love it. Do you want me to give your oatmeal tentacles, Stella?"**

**" Can you give it some flavor instead? Oatmeal is so boring in it's natural flavor." Stella quipped. " You know I never liked actually eating the oatmeal...just watching you play with it."**

**They abruptly changed their conversation to gossip about the familiar faces they had seen in the hospital, and who had not been there...and whether or not Eloise was going to be angry when she returned. Winter was sure that if she too had received an injection she would be intolerable.**

**Eloise was as unpredictable as weather, however, and despite her rather edgy mood the day before, she was in disgustingly good spirits upon returning home, smugly informing Winter that she herself had talked her way out of the dread injection.**

**" Did you see Edward?" Amanda asked.**

**Eloise pulled a face.**

**" Yes. And he was in a state too. He must have been given some of that green potion too."**

**" Oh yes. Blame it on a potion." Winter said. " Charlotte said her first word. Isn't that charming?"**

**" What did she say?" Eloise peered into a bowl of oatmeal sporting orange polka dots.**

**" Prestidigitation."**

**" That's nice. I remember...Rogero wasn't it? His first word was ' help'. "**

**" Only it had an exclamation point after it."**

**" She said ' mamma'. " Amanda interrupted.**

**" Of course she did. She's knows the value of flattery." Eloise chucked Charlotte under the chin. " Well...what should we do for the rest of the day?"**

* * *

Lyrics--John Denver


	57. Chapter 57 It's All Magic

True to the hospital's promise, Edward and Patsy were returned to Amanda with their health, if not their spirits restored. Patsy survived despite her heroic intention of martyring herself to doomed love. Now that her romantic notions of death were no longer a probability, she was left to sulk for a day or two, and for a day or two she did just that. Fortunately, she had read many books in which the fatally ill or hexed heroine had been miraculously restored for the sake of solving some mystery or fulfilling a prophecy, and this cheered her considerably.

Edward, though he had not Patsy's fine reason's for being annoyed with his experience or survival still insisted on being sullen for a week. He would not admit that he had been terrified during that loathsome ordeal, and was now embarrassed at the simplicity of his recovery. During his week of further recuperation, he theorized repeatedly that the epidemic had most _likely_ been created by the Ministry on purpose. When Amanda gently suggested that might be a slightly irrational, he had locked himself in his study for nearly fifteen minutes before storming back out to explain petulantly _why_ he thought they would have done it, shaking his finger adamantly to punctuate his point. Then he invited Giles over for a lengthy game of chess and an even lengthier discussion on conspiracies.

The most discussed subject between them, however, was not the Ministry's probable dabbling in potions or diseases. It was simply one of three favorites. The second was Quidditch. Edward, though not a rabid fan, knew enough to keep the conversation at a level of heated animation. Giles however, knew everything about it, from it's lengthy history to the color of socks preferred by the team captains. He claimed to be the only Wizard in the world who had seen every game played by the Falmouth Falcons, and had even been splashed with blood when one of their ( then) beaters, Hubert Hotstaff, drove a bludger into the nose of the Xerxes Deeter, the seeker for the Wigtown Wanderers.

"I still have the robe as a souvenir. I'll have to show it to you someday." Giles had told her once. She was exceptionally eager to hold him to that promise, but she appreciated his enthusiasm. " His nose is still crooked too. All the way over to one side. He can only breath through the left nostril. A real dandy."

Edward and Giles favorite subject, however, if it could _possibly _be more fascinating than Xerxes Deeter's nose, was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Something had apparently happened there at the end of the school year. Apparently, or at least from what Amanda could immediately gather, a professor had _attacked_ one of the students.

Edward corrected her on this later, and insisted that it had been He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, in _possession_ of one of the professors. The Ministry of course, would not dare believe such a thing, especially only on the word of a few students and Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster; but he himself believed it entirely, as did Giles.

" I thought the school was supposed to be impossibly guarded?" she exclaimed, shocked. " Yet, a dark wizard can simply walk in and _attack_ a helpless student?"

" Not all that helpless..." Giles grumbled.

" It isn't that simple. The school is guarded, by magic, and by some of the most powerful witches and wizards in England. A person would have to have a great desire to enter, to make it worth the trouble, and He who must not be named would have a great desire to enter..."

" _Just_ to attack one student...or was it to be many?"

" Just the one." Giles answered.

" Harry Potter."

Harry Potter. That strange little boy who had been in the shop? Why, he was only a small child, why would a dark wizard want to--then she remembered Edward's story about the child. It was hardly believable, but then, so few things in this wirld were readily believable. She pursed her lips thoughtfully.

Giles went on to explain the story as best he knew, having heard it from Arthur Weasley, whose son had been Harry Potter's companion during the event.

Amanda listened, with growing confusion.

" The dark wizard entered the school in the back of a Professor's head?" she asked. " And no one..._noticed_?"

" Well...er..no."

" Not even Dumbledore, who is supposed to be powerful and brilliant?"

Both Edward and Giles looked uncomfortable.

Giles raised his glass in a sort of gesture, signifying that there was really no reasonable explanation.

" Voldemort was very cunning...it isn't unfathomable that he could deceive a _few_ persons." he said, unconvincingly. " There are concealment charms...and that Quirrell fellow was not the sort of person to arouse suspicion."

Amanda said no more, merely allowed her expression to speak of her distrust in the safety of this sacred institution. Edward saw instantly in her pose the look of a mother who was mentally eliminating a possible danger for her child, and hastily spoke up to reassure her.

" In the entire history of Hogwarts though! Only _one_ attack..and even then, no death. Why, I don't believe anyone has actually died at that school."

" Except for that girl. " Giles said helpfully. " In the bathroom."

Edward shot him an irritated look.

" That was an accident."

" Oh? What happened then?" Amanda asked, smiling sweetly.

" Well, no one really knows, but they say it was a legendary beast--"

Edward threw up his hand in exasperation, signaling to Giles to desist, as Amanda's smile vanished immediately. Giles saw his distress, but chose to ignore it.He loved nothing more than a rapt audience, and at the moment, Amanda was a rapt as person could possibly be.

" The Chamber of Secrets...the school is rumored to have one. They say that one of the school's founders stowed away a great monster in it. How the creature escaped is unknown, some say it was a loosed by Slytherin's heir, other's that it's escape was a mystery. However it came to be free, it killed one girl. Attacked her in the bathroom. Horrible stuff. Blood everywhere."

" Thank you for that...Giles, " Edward commented. " And how would you know? I don't recall that you were there at that time?"

" Were _you_?" Amanda asked.

" _Yes." _Edward answered testily. " But I don't know anything about it. I don't believe a monster attacked that girl, it was most likely a row between students. A duel even. "

" But there was blood?" Giles urged. " I heard from a very reliable source that there was blood."

Edward set checkmated Giles.

" No blood." he said, as Giles began to exclaim over the horrific loss he had just suffered.

" That's...er..._six_ games I've lost to you, since '58." he said. " And I don't keep count of the wins of course."

" More like _one hundred and thirty-_six." Edward didn't mention that it would be impossible to keep count of wins that had not occurred. Giles had in their entire friendship, only own one game...and it was one of Gile's most endearign features was so mercilessly determined to win just one more match.

" A deliberate miscalculation!" Giles said. " Well, this calls for drastic action. I challenge you to one more game. On the Muggle set, and I shall play black this time."

" Very well." Edward said, clearing away the chess pieces. From upstairs, they heard the waking cry of Charlotte.

" Excuse me, " Amanda said. The men rose respectfully as she hurried from the room, then reseated themselves at the board.

" Chamber of secrets." Edward huffed. " I would appreciate your curbing all unsavory horror stories in the future, Giles, it makes my wife _very_ nervous."

" She did not seem so nervous as concerned. No wonder actually, I might think twice about sending my children to a school that couldn't offer better security." Giles said, suddenly serious again. " If it is Voldemort..." he shook his head.

" Yes..." Edward agreed. " If it is Voldemort."

" Your move."

--

" Lottie..." Amanda pleaded. " You are going to tumble down!"

She was struggling to pin on a clean diaper, while Lottie was struggling to fall over the side of the bed. These were the times that Amanda truly envied everyone else their magic abilities. It could be so frustrating to see Edward or Patsy simple walk by and have the baby changed with only a simple wand wave.

Edward seemed to enjoy this frustration to a degree, often watching her for sometime before offering his assistance.

" There!" she said, as the pin finally closed. Not without catching her finger once though. " Isn't that better?"

Charlotte allowed her mother to slip a simple, blue dress over head, and button it before she began struggling once more.

" And where do you think you are going? Shall we go downstairs? Then you have to let me carry you." she turned her upside down once to get her to laugh, the righted her. The trip down the stairs entailed having to stop often so that Lottie could look at things, and Amanda could tell her the correct word for it. She was very fascinated by a small square framed Picture of some deceased Ollivander relative, a woman with a very large nose and invisible eyebrows.

" Picture." Amanda said, in her best teacher voice.

She carried Charlotte through to the kitchen, and settled her in her chair. She could hear the muffled voices of the men in the other room, raised in serious near-argument over whichever topic. A glance at the kitchen clock showed that it was nearly time for Patsy to return. She had departed earlier that evening with every intention of becoming engaged to her Phillip Wood, whether or not he was willing. She had even worn a crimson robe, simply because red was his favorite color.

Amanda was curious now as to Patsy's success, and when she saw outside the garden window a silhouette, she smiled. Seeing that it was only one silhouette, she opened the door, expecting Patsy to rush in, breathless, and chattering at a dangerous speed.

There was nothing.

Peering out, she saw that the silhouette was now seated dejectedly on one of her benches, and that it was not Patsy. The figure wore white, and was twirling a single rose.

She drew her wand, and stepped back, but by that time the figure had noticed her presence.

" Wait! Amanda! It is only me." the figure held up two hands to show he was unarmed.

" Philo?" she did not lower her wand.

" Yes. " he answered. " I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

" You didn't. I just thought you were Patsy."

He stepped closer to the light, but not into it. It was enough that she could see he was dressed with more care than usual. He did not wear robes, but a rather soft white shirt, and black trousers. His boots gleamed, and he had oiled his hair so that the curls were tamed.She caught a glimpse of some indefinable piece of gold jewelry about his neck.

Still rolling the rose between his fingers, he halted a few paces from her, seemingly not sure of how to proceed.

" Patsy? " he repeated, in an odd tone, not meeting her eye.

She thought he sounded a little hopeless, and a suspicion crept over her. Since the day they had taken Edward and Patsy to the hospital, she had seen Philo much more often. He had been twice at the shop, she and Patsy had run into him at the market, Winter said he had been to Rookwood three times.

Had he come to see Patsy? A surge of sympathy struck her, and she did not want to have to say that Patsy was, at the moment, engaging herself to another man. Charlotte saved her from having to say anything, she began beating her hands on the tray to earn her mother's attention, and smiling coquettishly at Philo, who had crept close enough to peer in through the door.

" I'm keeping you, sorry. I just wanted to...no, never mind _that_. " he shook his head, dislodging some of the immaculately placed curls. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a sealed note. " Here. " he thrust it at her. The smell of his cologne clouded up around them.

" What is it?" she asked, taking it gingerly, and holding her breath.

" Could you please see that Edward receives it? Tell him something came up?" Philo turned to flee.

" Wait! "

He halted, but stood in such a posture that he looked prepared to bolt at the least noise.

" Were you supposed to meet? He's just in there, with Colonel Barkwater. I could tell him you are here?"

At the sound of Giles' name, Philo started, and made a half step back in the direction of the door, then stopped. In the half light, he appeared to wear a half-pained, half frightened look. He gestured to the note.

" That should suffice. It wasn't an important matter. Not at all. But, please, give it to him after...after Barkwater leaves."

Amanda pursed her lips in exasperation, as he disappeared from the garden. Why did everyone here have to bes o fluttery and suspicious? Why did _every_ litle matter have to be so secretive and dramatic? And _how_ had he managed to enter the garden? It was supposed to have concealment charms, unplottable charms, and anti-apparition wards applied. Only Edward, Patsy, Giles and the Rookwood women knew how to access the gate.

She turned away from the door, and examined the seal on the note. It was purple, and had what appeared to be a pyramid stamped int he soft wax, along with a Latin motto. She cursed herself for the hours she had spent daydreaming through her Latin lessons, as she struggled to make out the words, smeared by the hasty application of the seal to the warm wax.

" Primum viveri deinde philosophari." it read. She was scrutinizing it so closely she almost shut the door on Patsy who had slipped in through the gate quietly. Apparently, Patsy, with her head down, had not noticed the half open door, or Amanda's turned back, because she stretched her hand out blindly, only to stumble through into Amanda.

" Miss Amanda!"

" Patsy! You scared the life out of me!" Amanda had dropped the letter, and placed her hand around her throat, where her pulse now throbbed rapidly.

" I'm sorry, Miss. " Patsy mumbled, her head still down.

" Is everything all right?"

Patsy raised her head to reveal large, tear filled eyes. Though it was obvious from her sodden collar that she had wept a copious amount of tears, her face was enviably devoid of redness.

" He said _no_!" she wailed, and threw herself into Amanda's arms, taking her by surprise.

" He...he did?" she patted the other woman's hair. Charlotte regarded them with mild interest. She had managed to reach the sugar bowl and was helping herself to the cubes.

" H-he did!" Patsy sobbed. " N-now it's _all_ over. I-I can never show my face again. Humiliated! I might as well kill myself. Hand me a knife, I'll carve his name in my throat.Maybe h-he'll have the d-decency to show s-s-some remorse at my funeraaaaall!"

Amanda resisted the urge to smile, and guided Patsy to the nearest chair.

" The last thing I need is for you to bleed all over my knives." she said, her tone resembling that of Aunt Eloise." Here, drink this." she pushed a cup of tea with a shot of rum in it toward Patsy, who sniffled loudly.

Amanda retrieved the dropped letter, and set it on counter, before mashing some carrots for Charlotte. She kept a watchful eye both on her daughter, and the maid, who was dismally drinking her tea.

" Isn't that better?" she asked after the cup was drained." Now, do you want to tell me what happened?"

She knew Patsy would.

" It's horrible. Nothing a lady should hear. Don't you think? Oh, I'm so embarrassed...I don't think I could tell a soul." she began to sob again.

" There, there. Don't let yourself get so upset. Are certain he meant no? Perhaps he is just shy?"

" No...no...it is finished. He declared it in a restaurant! How can I ever face the world again? Spurned! Oh, it was my fault for being so brash, so bold! I didn't want to have to ask him, by right he should have asked me. i think it is more romantic that way, don't you?"

Amanda only smiled weakly, thinking of her own strange engagement, which had been a lot of things, eccentric included, but not particularly romantic.

" It's just like Aramona in "Trials of the Bleddragon", only my Gordon is a Muggle, and wants to go to America and become.." she sniffed." a writer."

" Oh...well, there is nothing wrong with a writer..you like writers." Amanda had not yet heard of ''Trials of Bleddragon'', and knew that to say so would only incur an involved explanation.

" He doesn't like _novels_. He wants to write books about...about...M-muggle economics!" Patsy moaned." He wants to live a normal life, have a house, and no children. I can't bear to think of it. I thought he was such a...a..._hero_!"

A quarter hour, and a dose of sleeping draught later, Amanda had Patsy tucked away in her room, advising her to let Phillip think on it some. It was the best she could offer, seeing as how she could not imagine someone as vibrant as Patsy wanting to leave the fun, eccentric world of magic, with it's bright colors, and books like " Star Crossed" just to marry an economist. As she closed Patsy's door, she noted a small bottle of perfume on the dresser. The garish pink label read:

_**" Twitterpation. The Magical Scent. He'll be filled with Admiration, when You wear Twitterpation." **_

Curious, Amanda took a sniff of the open bottle. Gagging slightly as she was assaulted by poorly fermented herbs disguised wit a cloying floral scent, she wondered if it might not have been the Twitterpation that killed Patsy's romance.

When she returned to the parlor, Edward was just winning the game if Muggle chess. She saw that Giles had been keeping a detailed list of their individual moves, no doubt so that when he returned home, he could replay the game to discover his mistakes. Edward was politely trying not to appear bored. For all of his oddness, for all of his pretenses of insanity, he could be eerily brilliant at times.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated his next move, even though Amanda, standing with Charlotte on her lap, could see what it would be. He drew it out as long as possible, before moving his remaining rook to take Giles bishop. This left Giles with only a pawn and his king. Again.

Throwing down his quill, he snorted.

" Fine. Fine. I see where this game is going. You have been cheating for years, Ollivander, but now I think I can see _how_ you were cheating." he waved his paper at Edward. " Ha! It's only a matter of time now. Oh, and speaking of the time! "

Giles' robes had a faux waistcoat with watch fob, and he always carried a small gold watch, engraved with a lion. The lion's eye was a ruby. When he opened the watch, some unfamiliar strains of music issued forth, sounding much like a first year violinist's rendition of

" Flight of the Bumblebee."

" eight o' clock!" he stated. " See you've kept me up this late. And I simply must sleep to keep up my good looks." he winked at Amanda.

With a few mild complaints, and a promise that the next match would be his best game ever, Giles took his leave, humming the tune from his watch as he staggered down the street.

After the door had been closed and locked, Edward took Charlotte onto his knee and began creating butterflies for her to play with while Amanda related Philo's appearance in the garden. Handing the note to him, she became aware, that it too smelled like the strange perfume in Patsy's room.

Edward regarded it with a frown.

" Philo...you fool." he muttered.

" It isn't anything bad is it? And how can he get into our garden?" Amanda looked at him rather accusingly. He had promised to keep herself and Charlotte perfectly safe, yet he had opened their wards?

He sat Charlotte on the floor and made the butterflies fly in circles around her curly head. He gazed on her with undisguised affection before answering his wife.

" I opened the wards to him only for tonight. He was supposed to join Giles and myself for a brief moment."

" I tried to invite him, but I think I frightened him away--"

" No, it wasn't because of you. It was because of Giles." he patted the sofa beside himself, urging her to sit.

She joined him, and he was about to continue explaining, when suddenly, he began sniffing hte air, and turned to see whether or not the rug had crawled into the fire. Seeing nothing burning, he peered at Amanda.

" What are you wearing?" he asked.

" I? Oh...I'm not wearing anything. It's Patsy's cologne. She came home distraught, so I put her to bed. It must have rubbed off on me."

" Distraught? What happened to her?"

" Her gentleman friend declined her offer of matrimony." Amanda sniffed the air too, now aware of how the perfume was clinging to her hair.

" Small wonder..." he declared, wrinkling his nose. " But poor Patsy, just the same."

She nodded towards the note.

" What? Oh yes...this. Well, as you know, Philo is...well, you remember the Geneva Convention we discussed? The un-named network?"

She nodded.

" Philo is quite involved in it, much more htan I. In fact, though I had met him occasionally, I had never spoken to him. Except when I sold him his wand. Poplar, 14 inches, quite sturdy...a very unusual wand, in my opinion. Yes...he very unusual. " his eyes misted for a second as he recalled the wand. " After speaking to him at Eloise's, I thought him merely a young idealist attempting to draw back all the older members. Create a new front in the time of peace. That's what they usually want. They are always so brave when they are comfortable, with their so-called bread and games. "

" What did he truly want?" she thought about his immaculate appearance, and wistful eyes.

" I...I'm not sure I should say. I was brought into his confidence quite against my will. I did not ask to know his secrets." he said somewhat defensively.

" It isn't anything _dangerous_?" was all she wanted to know.

He looked slightly perplexed.

" No! Oh, no! Nothing dangerous! Not from Philo."

Seeing that he was loathe to divulge any more information, and that she had placed him in a precarious state, she held up her hand to stop anymore words.

" Well, I needn't know more. I was only startled by his appearance, only wanted to be certain he could be trusted."

" Yes. He can be trusted. He _is_ young, and he is idealistic. He is not, however, brave. The sooner he finds his courage, the sooner he will be no longer be a nuisance." he turned suddenly to regard her, as though he had never seen her. His expression was so peculiar, that she instantly wondered whether or not Patsy's perfume might truly be enchanted.

" you are a woman." he stated. She raised her brow in surprise, and he hurried on. " Of course you _are_...and maybe a woman is just what Philo needs. "

She opened her mouth, about to demand an explanation. He placed a finger over her lips.

" Now wait. I only mean that you are kind, and very...understanding. Perhaps I should enlist your help!"

" In what endeavor?"

" Never mind that! Have you ever heard of the Divulgement charm?"

" I don't like the way that sounds." she said warily.

" It is not what it seems. If I cast the Divulgement charm over you, then people confide in you the things that are if the most concern."

" I would rather wait for a person to want to confide in me." she thought of the many thing she would not want, say, her mother, learning from her.

" Well, that is the difference between the Divulgement charm and Vertiaserum. The charm only urges people, it does not make them. They must already have the desire to tell you. It is just to give them a little courage."

She shook her head.

" I could simply speak to Philo, if you like. I hardly think it appropriate though...I only barely know him."

" Ahh...but in these circumstances, barely is enough. I swear to you. "

She sighed.

" I only agree because you ask it, you know that, don't you?"

" I am much obliged to you." he answered.

They settled back, his arm about her shoulders, to watch their daughter as she half crawled, half scooted around the floor, babbling to herself.

" She is nearly a year old." he said after a few moments.

" I know..." Amanda sighed. " She is already trying to walk. Soon, she'll be off to school."

He tried to divert her attention from school, lest she recall Giles' words about the Chamber of Secrets.

" She has your good looks, thank the heavens." he commented. " She will quite possibly break hearts."

" She has both our looks, which means she'll have the better eye color. Do you think she is a Witch?" Amanda asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

" She certainly wants to be one! Just look how she moves her hands. " he said, delightedly. " I haven't noticed anything unusual though. No fires, no levitation, no accidental summoning."

Amanda agreed. She had been watching closely for any signs of magic, but had not, as yet seen anything to suggest Charlotte was anything more than a happy, healthy baby.

As if reading her parent's thoughts, and having grown quite frustrated with not being able to catch a single butterfly, Lottie soon turned to Amanda and Edward with her lip a-quiver, all prepared to begin crying. Instead, she balled up her tiny fist and with a defiant look, slammed it down on the rug.

The room was filled quite suddenly with the sound of every glass globe in the parlor exploding into a million pieces. Edward pushed Amanda down, shielding her from the flying shards of the two stained-glass hurricane lamps that had been seated on the piano behind them. A series of doors began opening and closing before the last tinkle of fallen glass was heard, and Patsy skidded into the room, her braids untidy, and a pink robe tied hastily over a pair of green pajamas. Her house slippers crunched on broken glass.

" What happened?" she demanded groggily. The globes on the gasoliers had snuffed all the flames, so that the room was lit only by the low fire.

Edward and Amanda uncoiled themselves from their protective huddle, Amanda falling to the floor on her knees to examine Charlotte for any cuts.

" I think..." stated Edward, with a pleased chuckle, " That our Miss Charlotte has performed her first magic!"


	58. Chapter 58 Lovegood's and Lockhart's

**Despite the Ministry's impatience when it came to the successful **_**production**_** of Witches and Wizards, they informed Edward and Amanda quite snippily that they were not testing the children until their first birthday, at which time they, the Ministry, would notify the parents with the appointment. When Edward argued that they had been instructed to inform the Ministry at the first sign of magic, the woman in charge had sniffed daintily, patted her yellowish hair, and said, " That is not **_**my**_** department. Perhaps those instructions were made **_**before**_**. This is now. Good day."**

**" Before what?" Amanda ventured to inquire. **

**" Before today? Before her? I don't know."**

**Now that they knew what Charlotte was capable of, and more importantly, now that Charlotte knew what she was capable of, they had to worry every minute that she might hurt herself or someone else. Lottie understood that when she wanted something badly, she could make things happen. She rarely ever made her original desire come true, but she was always satisfied with her own results. If she wanted a drink of water, she was just as happy to see her cot catch on fire. If she wanted a toy that was out of reach, it was just as amusing to send Patsy tripping into the bathtub. **

**When Amanda began to grow concerned that her daughter might indeed be some sort of heinous villain due to her lack of conscience when it came to tormenting those around her, Edward reassured her that it was perfectly normal for Wizarding children to be slightly out of control for the first few years. As they grew, and developed a usable vocabulary, the need for magical expression soon faded, and before school age they most likely had learned to control it completely, though it it was not yet refined. **

**After their first year in school, they would learn to use that power in more productive, concise ways.**

**" Generally speaking, of course." he added, as a few witches and wizards sprang to mind that even seven years of intense schooling could not polish. It had long been his secret wish that the Ministry would develop a wand safety test for graduate Wizards. They had Apparition licenses, why not a wand license? Just because a Wizard could shoot sparks did not mean he was necessarily qualified to perform dangerous spells. **

**Of course, a few **_**broom**_** regulations would no doubt cut the yearly fatalities in half as well. How many Witches and Wizards every year came of age, and couldn't wait to show off their skills, usually on powerful new brooms their doting parents bestowed on them for passing their N.E.W.T.'S? How many of those were later scraped up by Aurors or Ministry officials after they had done a daring blind plummet right into a tree, or had a nasty collision with buildings hidden behind concealment charms? **

**Alas, things would never change, and all they could hope for was that their own daughter became very level-headed and even-tempered--two characteristics that threatened to be only a distant promise. **

**Around the first of August, Charlotte caused the tea kettle to disappear and it was just fortunate that Patsy had yet to boil the water, or she would have been badly scalded.**

**The next day, Charlotte made a rain cloud over her bed, and while Amanda thought she was peacefully napping, Charlotte was actually playing in the cold water. If it hadn't been for the eventual seepage of water through the ceiling and into the dining room, Amanda might not have noticed until the entire ceiling caved in. As it was, Charlotte had played too long in her little shower--that night she developed a sniffle, and the next day a fever. And when she sneezed, it never failed that some sort of magic catastrophe followed. **

**Fortunately, the fever was short lived, but her sneezes persisted for a week.**

**After the fourth day, tired, frazzled, and with singed hair, Amanda owled Stella, and pleaded with her for help. She had promised Edward she would assist in the wand shop as soon as the children began coming in, but so far she had not felt right in leaving Lottie while she was so ill. And especially while Charlotte was so volatile. Stella was more than glad to whisk her granddaughter away, pointing out to Amanda that the child only had sniffles, not **_**pneumonia.**_

**" It's not the sniffles that worry me so much as the fires, the explosions, the tremors, and the summonings. I live in dread of her summoning a knife or an axe towards herself. And besides, I would still feel horrible, leaving her while her throat hurts." Amanda defended. **

**" Lottie...open up, I want to see if their is a dragon in your throat". Stella commanded. Lottie opened her mouth obediently, and Stella pretended to peer in very closely. **

**" Well...that might be a dragon tail..." she muttered. " No...I think he's gone. Say Rarrrrgh." **

**Charlotte complied. **

**" You must have scared him away. See...nothing to worry about." she told Amanda, who had to admit defeat. Dragons were more fun than colds and germs. She only shook her head and sighed as she de**

_**Amanda's Journal-August 12 1992**_

_**Mother agreed to keep Charlotte today, so that I might help in the shop. It has been quite some time! We began the day in the village, but most Witches and Wizards go on to Diagon Alley with their children, as there are so many other supplies that the school requires. We Apparated there just after lunch, and I was impressed to find it has not grown too shabby or dusty in my absence. I had not realized I was missing it. **_

_**Only seven children came in today, but one of them was the most enthusiastic boy I have ever seen. He was with his mother and brother, who also seemed excited. A great relief, as so many Muggle parents are confused, or scared. Some are even angry and disbelieving. This boy called himself Colin, and he took a lot of pictures of everything with a large Muggle camera that looked too large for him to carry. **_

_**Such a love for life, it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't make Minister of Magic one day. **_

_**I do beleive that this journal is charmed somehow. No matter how much I write in it, I can never reach the end. There are always at at least twenty clean pages left at all times!**_

_**Amanda's Journal--August 13 1992**_

_**Charlotte has spoken a new word today. It is ' There." Isn't that a funny word for her to say? She says it with perfect clarity too, no baby talk whatsoever, and she has been repeating it adamantly since discovering it. There, there ,there. She even points. So far it is the only word in her vocabulary that is not a name, or title for someone. The poor girl, she must be overwhelmed by the people. She says already Mama, Father, Mella, ( for Stella) Leez,( for Eloise) and Grama. She refers to Amele as "Miss Mee" and to Giles as " Mister".**_

_**She quite charmed Edward today with her ' there, there, there" , so he suggested we bring her along to the shop. I thought she might annoy him after awhile, or be in the way, but he insisted, saying that it was never to young to show a child it's heritage. He was right of course. Lottie was as good as a galleon all day, playing behind the counter with some uncarved sticks and her animals. She seems miraculously cured of whatver affliction she suffered three days ago. I imagine Mother had a hand in that.**_

_**An interesting event was in progress today at Flourish and Blotts. One of the famous magical authors was there, signing books. I had walked down to Fortescue's to buy an ice for Charlotte, and got caught in the crowd, which seemed to consist mostly of women, none of whom were behaving rationally. I stood on tiptoe trying to see in, and was surprised to find Molly Weasely among the crowd. I would have called out to her, but she had a large group of children with her, including the boy, Harry Potter, who suddenly became the center of attention when the author, Gilderoy Lockhart. called him up to the front of the store. **_

_**The ice was melting by that time, but I still couldn't get through! What animals! And all for what? A glimpse at an author? I could see him by that time, quite easily, as he was surrounded by large portraits of himself. He was hardly worth trampling people to death for, but I did nearly start laughing at his flamboyant performance. His outfit was rather stunning, but I've never seen curls like that that did not involve some sort of rollers. He was signing books with what looked to be a peacock feather.**_

_**I was shuffled almost inside by this time, and I could see a photographer shove through, brushing aside the youngest Weasely boy in his haste. That commotion is what alerted Mr. Lockhart that Harry Potter was there, and it looked as though a plate of gold had been dumped in his lap when he noticed him. **_

_**" It can't be Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, purposefully to draw attention. The he practically attacked the child, pulling him up front and making quite of show of it. The crowd started clapping, and the boy looked ready to die of embarrassment. The photographer of course wasn't going to miss that opportunity, and for a minute we were all blinded by the flash. Especially when it reflected off of Mr. Lockhart's unbelievably white teeth. I think there is something utterly disturbing, and very un-natural about teeth that white. **_

_**He, Lockhart, then announced that he was going to give Harry a free copy of his autobiography, which I don't believe the boy really wanted--and then proceeded to announce that he was going to be the new Defense against the Dark Art's Teacher, at Hogwarts. **_

_**" He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much, more than my book, Magical Me, " he said. " He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me." **_

_**What a statement. I couldn't decided whether or not to laugh or shake my head. I was surrounded by sighs from several middle-age women, who began to push their way more adamantly into the shop. One woman elbowed me out of her way. **_

_**" Excuse me..." she said. " But I was here first. " **_

_**I decided that I could not afford to stand around anymore, mostly because Charlotte's ice was melting down my hand by that time, and also because I was afraid I might accidentally get pushed to the front where I would have to buy a copy of the book, and I am no reader of autobiographies. To me, they seem evidence of the highest level of supreme arrogance. **_

_**I might think differently were I the famous one, but as I am not, I squeezed my way out, despite the rude remarks I received. **_

_**Mrs. Weasley eventually made her way to the shop, bringing her youngest child, and only daughter, in for her wand. Molly was happy enough to show me her signed book,but she made Arthur stand outside. apparently he and another wizard had begun brawling in the book shop, and she was very angry. It must have been quite a sensation though with everyone else, so I am slightly sorry I did not stand around long enough to witness it. **_

_**Ginny, their daughter, was fitted very easily with an Alder wand, fourteen inches. I find myself becoming just as excited as Edward when the first set of sparks are emitted, proving that the wand has chosen it's rightful owner. Ginny seemed very surprised that it had worked at all, and in her excitement blurted out to me that she was more or less infatuated with Harry Potter. She did this out of her mother's hearing, or I'm sure Mrs. Weasley would have been distraught with worry over her only daughter. I wonder that Ginny might do better. She is after all a very attractive little girl, and shows the promise of having a fair amount of brains. **_

_**I should note here, that I have not had the opportunity yet to speak with Mr. Fenwicke, as I promised Edward. Since I do not know of what I am to speak, or how urgent it might be, I do not know how I will manage it even when we do meet. However, I hope to get the whole business with over soon...its becoming irritating to have everyone confide secrets to me at all times. **_

_*******_

**A few days after Lockhart's visit to Diagon Alley, Amanda met another peculiar person. Or rather,**_** two **_**peculiar persons. It was nearly time for the shop to close , and both Edward and Amanda were replacing wand boxes on the shelves, when a tall man with long, white hair entered the shop rather hastily, led by a very slight girl wearing a yellow kimono. **

**The girl was out of breath and asked, wide-eyed, whether or not they had come to late to buy a wand. Amanda was immediately taken with the girl's unblinking blue eyes, and unusual dress. She swayed back and forth, casually, twirling a lock of pale, flaxen hair. A necklace strung from corks decorated her neck, and her arms were covered from wrist to elbow with a mismatched variety of bangles and bracelets that jangled and clicked when she moved. **

**" Xenophilius Lovegood!" Edward declared. " Surely it hasn't been **_**eleven**_** years! It has? My, my. Where does the time fly? Of course it isn't too late--come right in, that's right. It's never to late to buy a **_**wand." **_

**He sent Amanda the faintest wink at that remark, and she flashed him a quick smile. It did not go un-noticed by the girl, who was looking at Amanda with what might have been considered a rude stare on a sullen child. On this girl, it was merely a dazzled, airy gaze. **

**" Hi." she offered. **

**" Hello." Amanda answered, handing the tape to Edward. He had charmed it to no longer pester her when there were customers. It was quite docile, most of the time. **

**" And your name is Luna." Edward commented. " Oh yes, I remember. I sold your parent's their wands. didn't I? Your father's wand--Willow, thirteen and a half inches, unicorn hair core. Yes. I recall it exactly. I said to him then that it could get quite agitated if he ever attempted anything dark. He hasn't I trust? Of course not. And your mother--ash, of course. Twelve and three quarters, with a phoenix feather. Very talented witch, she was. I was terribly sorry to hear what happened." **

**Xenophilius inclined his head in thanks, his soft white hair obscuring briefly his strange face with it's crossed-eye. **

**"It's my Luna's first year to school." he said, almost as though to himself. " I am sure she will be in Ravenclaw. Yes, quite sure." **

**Luna smiled up at him, the string from her necklace held between her lips. Edward answered in kind, and the two men began a conversation that suggested a somewhat comfortable familiarity. Edward took Luna's measurements, as she stood passively and listened attentively. At first Amanda could make very little of the conversation, flitting as it did about Hogwarts, and people she had never known. However the subject matter soon took a bizarre twist, and the man was extolling the ( somewhat questionable) virtues of gallows rope, and it's ability to dowse for spirits. **

**Amanda mentally slapped herself. Xenophilius Lovegood! He owned the Quibbler magazine! She felt very dull indeed for not having taken in his name when Edward first announced it, most likely for her benefit. **

**" The only difficulty is in obtaining a piece. No one is hanged anymore, and a person cannot trust Borgin and Burke's for these items, they are likely to sell you any piece of rope. Any dirty old piece.. Do you know how difficult all these dark wizards make it for honest adventurers like myself who desire only to promote the truth? Almost impossible, that is what. Walk into a shop and say you are purchasing a gallows's rope, and the clerk will write you down immediately as a suspicious character. " **

**Edward nodded, reading off the markings on the silver tape. He frowned slightly, before hurrying to the shelves. **

**Lovegood continued with his speech, and occasionally Luna supplied him with a piece of information he had neglected to mention. He patted her hair affectionately. Edward returned with a slender box. **

**" Now, let's see if this does the trick!" he said. There was a great difference in the way that Luna took the wand, compared to the Muggleborn children. She knew what it was for, and how to use it. She exuded a confidence, but unlike many other young Wizards and Witches from magical families, she seemed genuinely enthralled. **

**" A wave, if you please." Edward directed. She flicked it casually, but he had it back out of her hand before she had come to a stop.**

**" No." **

**" I thought not." She sighed. " It was phoenix feather, wasn't it?" **

**Edward looked startled.**

**" Well, yes. Maple...eleven inches. Very supple. How did you know that?" **

**She turned her large, dreamy eyes upwards, and smiled with a such gentle melancholy that it tugged Amanda's heart. **

**" I don't know, really. That is just what came to mind when I took it." **

**Edward continued to peer at her a moment longer, before turning to search for another box. **

**Luna turned to Amanda and began speaking as though they were old friends. **

**" I'm not particularly excited about going." she said. " I don't think the other children shall like me." **

**" Why ever not?" Amanda asked.**

**" They never do. They are always hiding my things, and teasing me." she said matter-of-factly.**

**Edward returned to hand her different wand. Amanda recognized it as the ebony wand that Harry Potter has tried the year before. As soon as it touched her hand, silver stars shot from the end and fell to the floor with the sound of bells. The wandmaker looked extremely smug, but before he could announce the wand, Luna spoke.**

**" Unicorn hair." she stated matter-of-factly. **

**" Unicorn hair.' Edward bent so that he was face to face with her. " Yes. Thirteen inches...quite whippy. Excellent I believe, for unlocking doors, transfiguring, and above all--rediscovering lost items." **

**" Thank you, " she whispered. Then turning once more to Amanda, while her father was digging through a deep patchwork satchel for his money bag, she said. " It's a beautiful wand. Do you think I might be meant to have unicorn hair, because my daddy does? " **

**" It's quite possible."**

**" Did your husband make your wand as well?" **

**It was Amanda's turn to be surprised. Most clients who visited merely thought of her as an employee. Because she was often seen doing things the Muggle way, Purebloods ignored her, and Muggle adults were so preoccupied with being bewildered that they took little notice, and the children were much to excited or bored to care. She felt a strange liking for this girl. **

**" Yes. He did." **

**Luna smiled. **

**" Oh, that's nice. " she looked around. " Does it make you nervous being in here with all these wands? It would me. Rather like a thousand glass tubes filled with danger."**

**Amanda looked around uncomfortably.**

**" Ah, well I never thought of it that way. A person has to be holding a wand for it to be dangerous." **

**" What about Brindilly? " **

**" Brindilly?" when the Luna spoke the word, the accent was on the last syllable, but when it came from Amanda's mouth, it was the " brin' that sounded strongest. **

**" They are very small creatures, that look like twigs. They have antennae, just here. " she held her fingers to her forehead to indicate the location. " If they start nesting near wands, and have nightmares, they can set the wands off. That is why you should never keep several unused wands lying about unless you take great precautions to lock them away. " **

**" How big would one be?" **

**" Babies are about the length of your finger to your first knuckle. Adult ones can grow to ten inches. They can lie in a box of wands and go completely unnoticed. " **

**" Are they dangerous in any other way?" **

**" I don't think so. They might bite. I've never seen one, but Daddy wrote an article about them last year. They come from Africa." **

**Xenophilius was ready to leave. **

**" Well, goodbye then. " Luna said. " And do be careful when **_**rummaging**_**. Rummaging gets on their nerves." **

**" I will. And you enjoy yourself at school." Amanda said. **

**Luna smiled brightly this time.**

**" I think I will. Now that I have this." she held up her new wand. " Thank you again." **

**And in a billow of yellow they were out the door. **

**-----------------**

**" Brindilly, do you mean?" Edward said, in reply to his wife's rather tentative question as to whether or not their were little twig-men that infested wand boxes." Yes--horrid little creatures. Much worse than garden gnomes, but not quite so malicious as doxies." **

**" Do they bite?"**

**" Occasionally, if they feel threatened. They are quite fascinating too. They were accidentally created in 1307 by an French Wizard dabbling in alchemy. **

**Solve et Coagula, he said, and that is what happened, though what two substances he joined, no one is certain. He was eaten by his experiment." **

**" Entirely?" she exclaimed.**

**" Well, yes. Brindilly were much larger in those days. I'm sure that no one has been eaten by one in over a century. They mostly eat wood., like termites. They have to have a strong magical substance nearby, or they their young won't hatch. Therefore, they gnaw down to the wand's core, and then lay their eggs in the cavity. When they hatch the wands generally explode." **

**" Ah, I see." she laughe a little.**

**' Why is that so amusing?" **

**" Well, the girl said that it was because the Brindilly have nightmares. That is why the wands explode."**

**" That is the myth. But then, there is no way to prove that they aren't having nightmares as they hatch." **

**They were in the library, sharing the sofa in front of the fireplace, which had a summer charm on it so that it produced light and crackling noise, but no heat. Instead a coolish breeze stirred the room, catching the loose ends of Amanda's hair and lazily swinging the gasolier overhead, so that the shadows on the wall rocked back and forth between elongated and diminutive. **

**" What **_**did**_** happen to her mother?"**

**" She was killed in an accident. Something to do with potions, but naturally everyone suspected Xenophilius of having a hand in it."**

**" You don't think so?" **

**" Of course not. He doted on the woman. And even more so on the child. He might have outlandish views about magic but he was no murderer." **

**" I'm glad to hear that. I rather liked him. And the girl, Luna...she was very sweet. " **

**She glanced up at the ceiling, to where she knew that Charlotte was sleeping away in her little forest room, and thought that she would like for her own daughter to possess those gentle charms when she was older. This reminded he of Charlotte's look of joy at receiving her flavored ice earlier that day, and that in turn led her to think about the author at the book store. As she thought, she leaned over and rested her had on his shoulder, breathing in the comfortable aroma of wood, starch, and the elusive fragrance of some sort of exotic spice. **

**" What do you think about Gilderoy Lockhart?"**

**His reply was a rather surprised laugh.**

**" Gilderoy Lockhart! I try not to think of him." **

**" Do you know him?" **

**" Oh, everyone **_**knows**_** him...he makes certain of it. But yes...I know him as in I sold him his first wand, and his second, and third. He is an absolute **_**menace**_** to wands." **

**" He was at the bookstore to day when I went for ice cream. He had Harry Potter with him. The picture will be in the Prophet tomorrow. " **

**" Yes...that would be a nice morsel of publicity, wouldn't it? Well, my advice is to avoid his books if you are seeking the truth. There is more truth to be found in a Quibbler." **

**" Well...he announced that he is to be teaching at Hogwart's." **

**She felt Edward tense under her head. But he was strangely silent. She thought for a moment he might begin one of his famous fits, guffawing and ridiculing the very idea. But when he spoke it was eerily calm.**

**" Don't be absurd." **

**" Truly. His curriculum is to include every book ever written by himself." **

**Edward shook his head. **

**" No. Impossible. They wouldn't let that man...oh, maybe they would! What is the wizarding world coming too, I wonder?" **

**" Do you think he is capable?" **

**" Of many things, I'm certain. However...with girls that young, those capabilities are highly illegal!" **

---


	59. Chapter 59 A Little Witch

On the ninth of September, Charlotte September Ollivander turned one. Her un-necessarily lavish birthday party was int erupted, quite rudely, by a square jawed ministry official wearing a set of Burgundy robes that made him look much too Inquisitorial for Amanda's comfort. He had close set eyes and heavy brows. His expression was something less than pleasant, if not openly hostile, and had he been a tall man he might have seemed commanding.

With an imperious wave of his hand, he said;

" Leave us. I'll need to be alone with the child. The parents may wait in the next room."

He refused an offered refreshment, then refused to wait for the party to end, which caused some dissension among the others. Many of those adult ' others' had been improving the available beverages for nearly an hour, and were well past tipsy and on their way to dangerously merry. Giles for instance, had been nursing several glasses of cherry punch that had been chastely flavored with brandy from his own flask, and his nose had begun turning slightly red. He had also begun to flirt indiscriminately with the others; Eloise, Winter, Philo, Patsy, Amele, Edward...even the man from the Ministry, who obviously thought he was being taunted.

The guests took it upon themselves to stall as long as possible. Amele and Jean-Paul were the first to attempt to leave. They reluctantly gathered Arden, Franchot, Renee and Wellis, who had been teasing Charlotte with a candy apple, and bade their hosts farewell. They managed to make this task last nearly forty-five minutes. Then Eloise stopped Amele to ask her advice on whether or not she thought the planets were in a favorable conjunction for the mixing of oil paints. Amele had to consult her celestial gadgets, and peer at Eloise's palm. After another fifteen minutes, she announced that it was indeed the perfect time for mixing lavenders, greens, and azures...but reds, oranges, and yellows should be avoided. Caught up in this fascinating conversation, she forgot to leave, and her recently clustered children sifted away again to play. Giles had to speak to Edward about a Quidditch score, and Philo had to speak to Amanda about a new philosophical society being founded. Stella had to clean some caramel from Charlotte's face. Then Winter and Amele had to both speak to Patsy about a series of novels--and they drew Amanda and Philo in as well. These tiny procrastinations were done simply for the sake of annoying the official, who was bouncing impatiently, arms crossed, occasionally checking the time on his little watch. He kept one wary eye on Amele's children.

" Excuse me..." he said after another half hour had passed and not a single guest was more absent than before. " I really _must _ask you to leave. I will be in trouble!" he warned, as if these people would mind.

Amele and Jean-Paul left first, promising to bring Charlotte her very own garden gnome on their next visit. When Amanda insisted they shouldn't go through the trouble, Amele assured her it was no trouble at all.

" I do have a new lot, just weaned, grwoing in the garden. They boys love to play with them, and JEan-Paul has found that if you catch the babies young enough, and charm out their teeth, they make very good pets. Or at least...they aren't _dangerous_ pets."

After Amele's departure, which took two more tries, as Renee escaped the first Disapparition, and had to be sent back for, Eloise gathered Winter, Stella, Giles and Philo, and bullied them into joining her at Rookwood for a taste of antique vintage and a few games of Cosmic Curses, which was a rather unique Wizarding board game, much like Truth or Dare, in which a cheater is popped by a temporary curse for not answering the question. Eloise's 'company' board was tailor made so as not to ask any remarkably embarrassing questions, but if they imbibed enough '21, she might bring out her famous secondary deck of question cards.

Blissfully unaware of their danger, Giles and Philo allowed themselves to be persuaded. After a few dramatically drawn out goodbyes, Edward and Amanda were left at last with Charlotte, Patsy, the official, and a garden full of glitter, singing confetti,and multiplying balloons. Patsy was a real dear, and offered to tidy the garden while the others went inside. The Official wanted an empty room where very little could be destroyed, but the best they could offer on the ground floor was the library. Amanda wouldn't hear of him going upstairs, insisting that was an invasion of privacy. He could test Charlotte in the library, and they would wait in the parlor, close by. Every ounce of her demeanor suggested that she didn't trust him in the least.

The man, who was called Walters, was relieved when the door to the library closed, dividing him from the girl's anxious parents. He was a nervous sort of man at best, and had little experience with children. Why, of all the persons in the world had the Ministry selected him, he could never guess. All he knew was that since the first of the' law-children' had come of age, he had slept less. The children were exactly what the Ministry had wanted, powerful beings with little or no control. He had been cursed, jinxed, hexed and charmed. Set on fire, the target of flying objects, stung, bitten, and just plain kicked. What he personally fretted over, was the children that refused to do any magic whatsoever.

How was he supposed to give an accurate report? He couldn't force a child to perform magic; most of the time, they didn't even know how. Being an obsessively meticulous man, it gave him indigestion thinking that he might at some point mis-register one. And after a half-hour with Charlotte, he could feel the familiar burn and water brash of what would soon be a fully developed duodenal ulcer. He had instructed her to perform magic, and she was refusing.

Charlotte regarded him with her pure grey eyes, with much more wisdom than he was comfortable facing. Her gaze was steady, and expectant, one corner of her rosebud mouth drawn back in a wry smile that Edward would recognise as an imitation of Amanda, but what Walters saw as mocking. He was certain that any moment she was going to begin speaking, and tell him she was waiting.

So was he.

He showed her a lolly. Usually, if he were lucky, offering then refusing a toy or sweet would infuriate the child, producing a sporadic burst of magic. Charlotte merely cast a glance at it, then returned her eyes to him. She sat on the edge of her little chair, ankles crossed daintily, and her hands folded in the lap of her starched white pinafore. The perfect picture of propriety and patience.

Walters waved the lolly in front of her, and then pretended he was about to eat it himself. The very idea made bile rise in his throat-he abhorred grape-flavored candies. Charlotte only raised her brows.

Yes, I see you have candy. Isn't that lovely? her face seemed to say.

He sat down across from her with a sigh of defeat, and rested his perspiring forehead in his equally perspiring hand. With the other hand, he fished out a blue and bronze striped handkerchief, with an eagle crest in one corner. he mopped at his neck, and then his face, propping his chin in his palm to regard the child in front of him. She offered a brief smile of patient...sympathy? Perhaps.

" Now you just see here..." he said, weakly. " I don't feel well, and I would like to go home. All I need is for you to do something--anything. Can you understand that?"

She turned her head to the window, and he chided himself. Of course she couldn't understand. She was only a year old. Best to use one of the few successful means of luring out a child's talents. With a trembling wave of his wand, he turned a coin into a puppy. Charlotte returned her attention, and for the briefest moment, her eyes widened in surprise. She watched the puppy gambol about a bit, then turned back to studiously ignoring it. A kitten had the same effect. A balloon, a train. She knew it was only a charm, and watched with mild interest as he grew more and more frustrated.

With a groan he buried his face again. He knew she could do it. He had seen her fingers flex for a moment, seen the understanding on her face. He just knew that she could. But she _wouldn't_! He didn't like what came next. Next was when he had to be mean, and watch as the children's expressions changed from innocent to fearful. Angry, scared, confused--he could spray them with cold water, or frighten them with monsters. These were all Ministry approved methods, but he hated them. They made him feel low, like a monster himself. It was not his fault, yet he was the one who bore the brunt of the retaliations from the children, the angry words of the parents, the stares of hatred and blame.

He was taking several ragged breaths, trying to find the will to go on, or the courage to quit, when he felt a cool little touch on his neck. Looking up quickly, he found that Charlotte was now regarding him with a look of concern. He caught a glimpse, from the corner of his eye, a very small cloud, as it was evaporating.

Startled, he whipped his head around, but they were alone.

" Did you do that?" he asked.

Charlotte smiled impishly. Then, as if she were tired of tormenting him, she looked up at the amber glass of the gasolier, and a sudden shower of cold water began to pour. He took up his wand and stoppered it. She raised her hands and clapped lightly. Then promptly set the sofa on fire. He wanted to spring, but suddenly his legs were numb from the knees down. He couldn't move!

On the verge of screaming, he was surprised to find himself engulfed but unharmed by the flames. They produced cold air.

" Ch-charlotte?" he asked. " Please stop."

Insulted, she turned her head, and the ring of fire fell through the sofa, leaving only a puff of pink smoke.

" No...that was marvelous!" he siad honestly. Controlled magic...and in one so young! He actually smiled in his excitement. " Can you change this into something?" he dropped the coin onto the floor. Charlotte regarded it coolly, then slipped from her seat. She bent to retrieve the token, turning it clumsily in her baby fingers. When nothing happened, she frowned, and squeezed it hard. It suddenly shot from her hand in a hundred liquid droplets.

Her eyes teared up at her inability, perhaps to turn the coin into a puppy or kitten... but Walters was far from disappointed. He was on the verge, for the first time in his forty-two years, of bending a rule. With a glance around to be certain no one was watching, he held the butt end of his wand to the child.

" You mustn't use it on me. But...let's jsut see what you can do?"

Charlotte's clever eyes were suddenly greedy and wide. She took the instrument cautiously, knowing it was bad for her to touch a grown-up's wand. But just as a thousand other children applied invisible cosmetics like their mother's, or shaved their imaginary whiskers like their father's, Charlotte had spent hours pretending that her toy wand could perform wonders. She had watched the adults closely, and knew, even if she could not speak the words, several of the common spells they used, and a rough imitation of the wand movements that accompanied them.

Walters watched with trepidation and expectation as she waved it a few times, and sighed with both disappointment and relief when nothing happened. Just as he was reaching to take it back however, she forced it down, in a precise arc, her miniature forehead furrowed with the grim determination she had inherited from her father. A bolt of pink light shot from the walnut wand, connected with the sofa, and blasted it over backwards. She seized the wand with both hands as it began vibrating, and cast the beam of light to one side with some effort. An entire shelf of books emptied itself, one volume at time.

In the parlor, Amanda and Edward both leaped to their feet, and rushed to the door.

" Marvelous!" they heard Walters exclaim. The door opened suddenly on their knocking.

Walters stood blocking the total devastation from their immediate view, his thick brows met as one on his across his damp forehead, and seemed to be shaking hands in a congratulatory manner. Up and down, they bounced as he tried to catch his thoughts.

" Just a few more moments, please! Without interupption. " he closed the door.

Amanda bit her lip, but Edward took her hand in a reassuring manner, and led her back to their seat.

---

" I _won't_ do more." Charlotte said suddenly.

" Just one--what did you say?" he stopped and looked down at her. She had flounced back into her seat and locked her ankles.

" No more." she repeated.

" Why, you haven't said a word until now. "

The wry smile had returned.

Casting a glance at the clock, he sighed. It was fair--he had kept her busy for three quarters of an hour, she must be tired. Not to mention he had ruined her birthday. Walters took his wand back from her tiny fist, and began restoring the room to order.

" Well, what else do you like to do?" he asked conversationally.

Charlotte began to play with a curl of her hair, and for a moment, he thought her look was almost flirtatious.

" Piano." she answered.

" Do you play it?"

" Yes."

" I would like to hear someday, but not today, I'm afraid. I have to go."

" What's your name?"

" Rembrandt Walters." he blurted.

" Oh." she said simply. " Well, goodbye."

" Goodbye." he answered, backing out of the door. She was still the perfect picture of control, her eyes never leaving him until he had stepped through the door and closed it.

" Charlotte? " Amanda asked, confronting him.

" Yes, she is in there. Quite all right, I assure you. May I have a word?" he directed the question to Edward, who, after a nod from Amanda opened the door to his study, and led Walters inside. Once that door had closed, Amanda rushed into the library.

Charlotte launched herself into her mother's arms, and Amanda knelt on the rug listening with awe as her daughter began babbling happily, tossing her curls to and fro and playing with her mother's jade brooch.

Amanda tightened her arms around Lottie, listening as words poured forth, some non-sensical, other's perfect. She found herself revisited by that same suspicion that had nagged her when Charlotte first said ' mama', so distinctly and then refused to repeat it. The child had been talking all along!

" Why, you cunning little witch." Amanda exclaimed, kissing her daughter's cheeks. " Well, I'll forgive you at least. "

Charlotte broke away and pretended to help Amanda to her feet. Then she led her to the piano in the parlor and asked with some words and many gestures if she could play on it. This was often her chosen reward for any good behavior. Her mother was about to refuse, since they had an important guest, but when she heard raised voices suddenly emanating from the study, she hurried to open the lid of the instrument.

Lottie could not yet clamber up on the bench, and even after she was lifted, she had to sit on her chubby knees to reach the keys. Without preamble, she began enthusiastically to beat at the notes; being at that age when cacophony was more pleasant than melody. Amanda, who was not at that age, chose to grit her teeth and wait patiently for news from the study.

It would be a lie to say that she was unperturbed by Walter's deliberate exclusion of her from her daughter's future, and that in part was why she tolerated the piano even with her own nerves on edge. She hoped, in the same malicious way that Eloise might hope for something, that it irritated Walters beyond reason. After all the Minstry had done nothing but irritate them for years.


	60. Chapter 60 Evening Conversation

_She lightens my sadness,_

_She livens my days,_

_She bursts with a kind of madness_

_My well-ordered ways._

_My happiest mistake, the ache of my life:_

_You must meet my wife._

_She bubbles with pleasure,_

_She glows with surprise,_

_Disrupts my accustomed leisure_

_And ruffles my ties._

_I don't know even now quite how it began._

_You must meet my wife, my Anne._

_One thousand whims to which I give in,_

_Since her smallest tear turns me ashen._

_I never dreamed that I could live in_

_So completely demented, contented a fashion._

_So sunlike, so winning,_

_So unlike a wife._

_I do think that I'm beginning_

_To show signs of life._

_Don't ask me how at my age one still can grow--_

_If you met my wife, you'd know. _

* * *

**" Congratulations on your success. The child is the perfect end product. Just the right combination of skills and talent we were hoping to achieve."**

**Those were a few of the hastily chosen words that the Ministry official had in regards to Charlotte. **

**And whereas they should have fallen sweetly on their ears, they fell with the subtlety of mortar shells, and were just as well received. **

**" **_**End product**_**? I wouldn't use that term on...on..." he waved his left hand in the air as if trying to grasp a term that sounded justifiably absurd." a**_** shampoo **_**experiment." he exclaimed.**

**It was the only time Amanda had seen him truly angry and frankly, it frightened her a little. Once before, when he was describing Adelfried Umbridge, he had been **_**upset**_**, but that was as near to this as a raindrop is to the sea. Red faced, he paced the parlor after Walter's had left, while Amanda and Charlotte kept a safe distance from his flailing arms. **

**After a few minutes of this, however, it began to be amusing. Especially when, for the hundredth time, he forcefully smoothed back his hair with both hands. **

**Walters had, from what she could gather, simply raved about Charlotte's abilities. Declared her to quite possibly be a prodigy. He had let her use his **_**wand**_**. The fact that she **_**could**_** use one had made Edward both smug, and indignant. Of course **_**his**_** daughter would have an instinct for such a thing. However the fact that Walters had allowed it without his permission, infuriated him. **

**" A fool. An utter fool!" he declared. " Do you know how **_**dangerous**_** that is? " **

**Amanda assumed an appropriate attitude of assent. She was not much happier about the whole affair, and assumed this must have been the point of the conversation between the two men where the voices had been raised, since Edward confessed that it was the exact time in which he informed the official that since Charlotte had passed the basic 'inspection', the Ministry no longer had any say in their affairs. Walters had, in turn, informed Edward that it was in his job description to return at a later date and test Charlotte in other areas, to see how rapidly their experiment was progressing. **

**" Like a farmer inspecting his crops." Edward seethed. He did not admit to how he had phrased his own response to Walter's comment, but Amanda knew that Walters had been in an awful hurry to depart the scene. '' EXPERIMENT!"**

**After Edward had finished what she suspected to be an abridged version of his conversation with Walters, Edward rounded on Amanda- though not in anger. He was still ranting, waving his hands and expostulating on the absolute audacity of the Ministry itself. Amanda listened quietly with her teeth between her lips. Charlotte listened as well. She had been building a tower or castle from wooden blocks, one of her many presents, but she paused to watch her father. She was just as surprised as her mother at seeing htis new personality. **

**At last Edward came abruptly to the end of speech and gave a noise of disgust. He leaned against the mantel to catch his breath, having had his say on every issue from the Ministry objectifying his daughter, to the price of quills. It seemed to Amanda however, that he was intentionally excluding something. **

**When she was no longer in danger of being struck by him during his impassioned raving, she went to him and placed her arms around his neck. **

**" What is it? What else did he say to have you so angry?" she asked in a low voice.**

**His face tinged an angry red once more, but instead of answering, he glanced over at Lottie, who was still watching with curiosity. Instead of revealing his thoughts, he pressed a kiss to Amanda's temple. Then another on her cheek. She rose up and kissed his mouth. **

**They stayed that way for awhile, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, the warmth of the small fire pleasantly enveloping them. Lottie, convinced that all must be well now, went back to her building which collapsed with the soft, comforting clackle of wood on wood. Her laugh at her own mess was crystalline and infectious, and both her parents smiled. **

**" Perhaps after dinner? " Amanda said, and he nodded. Charlotte had heard enough for one day. **

**----**

**Patsy had done an excellent job with a potato soup recipe before vanishing back into her room to absorb a book called " Prudence Structure's Guide to Courting Eligible Wizards", a work of non-fiction measuring about fifteen inches thick that she had been poring over since her devastation with Phillip Wood. **

**Charlotte entertained her parents with her new vocal skills, and even succeeded in bringing a smile to Edward's lips with her version of the word 'potato'. Before she could finish her dessert though, the excitement and the length of the day had overtaken her, and she dozed against her own arms. Noticing this, Edward folded his napkin, and lifted her gently from her chair. **

**She opened her eyes only long enough to see what was happening, then lolled sleepily against his shoulder. Amanda followed them upstairs and changed Lottie into her favorite pink nightgown. The moon was gibbous in the fake sky, illuminating the painted owl as he slept on his painted branch. The parents stood a moment, watching her with pride, before creeping out and down to the library, to enjoy wine and conversation. **

**" Now, what upset you so...beside the obvious?" she asked, settling herself on the brown leather loveseat. **

**He remained standing a moment, one hand on the back of an arm chair, and stared into his glass, turning it this way and that, frowning. **

**" He wanted us to give permission to use Charlotte for a...**_**promotional campaign**_**. He wanted to have several experts study her. Yes, study her--and then use her in the Ministry's argument for why the marriage law should be reinstated. " He walked around the chair and sat beside her. " I won't have that...them taking her and using her to promote their filthy law." **

**Amanda lowered her eyes at that remark, and he looked suddenly horrified with how it must have sounded.**

**" Don't think I regret the law." he said, " It has given me two of the greatest gifts in the world. But the very idea of them forcing unions is filthy--that they want to use the children as a means to promote the law is a **_**disgrace**_**. " **

**" Especially the children of persons such as Charles Bumpp. " she said softly. **

**Recently, Mrs. Bumpp, who used to be a Muggleborn witch named Rosetta Carmichael, had departed both worlds due to a tragic Apparation accident. She left behind one son, who had **_**just**_** been deemed a successful result of the marriage law. Of course no foul play had been discovered, it only **_**seemed **_**suspicious that she had died so soon after losing her eyesight in an unexplained explosion. **

**" Precisely." he agreed. **

**" What else?" **

**He sighed and shook his head. **

**" Well, to begin with, he said a few unsavory things about **_**you**_**." **

**" That much was to be expected." she said into her glass. " I'm surprised he didn't give you permission to finish me off." **

**" Don't joke about things like that." he said, sharply. " It was unacceptable. I for one, do not appreciate him complimenting my daughter in one breath, only to insult her mother in the next. He seemed to think it remarkably unprecedented that a woman of your background could produce anything but a cretin. " **

**" Did he actually say that?" she almost laughed. " Did he actually say **_**cretin**_**?" **

**" Yes. Well, in not so many words, but the effect was the same. He did use the word." **

**" Well. At least I know where **_**I**_** stand in the Ministry's opinion." she said bravely. **

**" Yes." **

**This last was said in a rather uncomfortable manner, and the way he glowered into the fire suggested there might possibly still be a small matter left unspoken. She edged closer to him, but he held up a hand to stay her. **

**" There's more. " she said simply. **

**He sighed yet again, and wiped his hand over his face. **

**" He gave me a...a **_**receipt**_**. Yes, that is what it is. A receipt." **

**When she said nothing, he continued. **

**" We, actually I-- they don't count you, have fulfilled our contract. Therefore, since there was no quota on the children, we were given a **_**receipt**_** releasing us from the obligation to...to...produce any more." he pulled the yellow paper from his pocket and handed it to her. **

**" Well, that was generous of him." she said, smiling slightly at his discomfiture. The 'receipt' seemed to her to be no more than a poorly written note ; a hasty combination of clinical exactness and poetic reserve. The wording managed to convey the message that the Ministry did not want them to have any more children, not doubt the theory was that one successful child was worth more to the Wizarding World than the possibility of subsequent squibs. " How curt." **

**" Is that all you have to say?" he asked in exasperation. She could see now the reason for his strong reaction to her joke about her superfluity now. This sheet of paper was as good as a cloaked message to Purebloods excusing them for any mishaps that might occurr to their now un-necessary spouses. She shivered slightly.**

**" What **_**should**_** I say? It's rubbish. " **

**" Perhaps it is for the best to comply..." **

**" With this?" she asked, startled.**

**He blinked for what seemed to be the first time all evening, then raised his brows in surprise. **

**" No...not **_**that**_**. I was referring to his request for Charlotte. " **

**" Of course it isn't for the best! Why, it would be exploitation. Exploitation for something you didn't agree with in the first place." her voice rose slightly. **

**" Yes. Yes that's true. I'm only trying to find the path of least resistance." He sighed. " Perhaps I am simply becoming a coward in my old age. I wonder too much about things that ought not bother me--and worry too much about outcomes." **

**" You're no coward." she said, her voice softening. " I heard you stand your ground.." **

**" To little avail. He will, unfortunately, return." **

**" But they can't make us do anything can they? I mean, they can't force us to let them use Charlotte...can they?" **

**" No. They wouldn't dare go so far. My own name might not carry enough weight with the Ministry--but Charlotte is Eloise's niece, and when you begin to tread across the Rookwood line, you are tweaking the blood strings of nearly fifty Pureblood families. That, If I am not mistaken, is something the Ministry is not yet ready to do. Too many inside ties there, as well." **

**" Why don't you simply burn this?" she asked, handing the note back to him.**

**" It won't burn. Official documents always have fire charms applied." he regarded it mournfully for a moment.**

**After a few moments of gritty silence, in which he continued to fold and unfold the paper while gazing into the fire, Amanda spoke. **

**" Is that what you want?" **

**" Beg your pardon." **

**She was wearing a faint blush, but held her head defiantly, and gestured toward the paper. **

**He assumed the humble and somewhat sheepish appearances of a man who has just had their thoughts supposed, if not read. **

**" I was just considering what **_**you **_**might want." he said, evasively. **

**" Well...I don't wish to be 'accidentally' eliminated by an exlpoding cauldron or falling ceiling..." she stated, with a smile. " I was wondering about children."**

**They carefully regarded each other. **

**" I would understand if you...since you have already a daughter and a son..." she waved her hand to finish the sentence. **

**" What about yourself?" he asked softly. **

**" I'd have a dozen." she blurted out in all honesty. **

**Edward discovered that he was not much surprised, but inexpressibly relieved. Once again, Amanda had proven to be the exact opposite of Dinah, and as she gazed up at him expectantly, he was reminded vividly of their first meeting, when they had collided in the rain. That time seemed not so much far in the past but distant and vague like a dream. Before, he couldn't imagine being married to her and now, he couldn't imagine not. **

**Realizing that he was supposed to offer his opinion on the matter, he cleared his throat. Truth was, he would be satisfied either way. **

**" Well, Amanda, you see--as far as you and I are concerned, I do not **_**yet**_** have a true son." **

**A delightful smile slowly unfurled across her face, as she understood the implication of his cautious statement. A smile that caused dimples to appear on either side of her rosy mouth. **

**" But still, I do have some concerns." he went on, in a rather stern voice. " about your health. Do you realize it has been narly four years since we married? Yes, this little slip of paper reminded me--I hadn't thought it so long. Three years, and they have been quite difficult for you. Quite burdensome. I wouldn't blame you for wanting...wanting to not risk your...health anymore. I want you to consider this very carefully...and don't think of me. Think of yourself." **

**By the time he had managed his little speech, sounding very much the way he did when lecturing first years on the properties of wands, she had assumed a look of pleased self-satisfaction. A look not unlike one that Eloise or Stella might wear, when only half listening to an argument after their minds had been solidly made up. **

**She said she did not, as he might have thought, want to discuss it, as they had discussed their plans the night of their marriage. She had stood, and when he was done, took his face between her hands and said,**

**" One of these days, you **_**are**_** going to **_**believe**_** me when I say I love you. Aren't you?" then she had kissed him lightly before turning. " It's very late...I am going to bed." **

**He watched her until she was almost out the door, before calling out to her;**

**" I believe you. I just don't **_**understand**_** you." **

**She offered a coy smile over her left shoulder. **

**Then she was gone. **


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance