“Where have they got to?” Remus asked, looking anxiously at his watch.
“They’ll be having fun,” Felicia said. “It’s what all Irish witches do on their wedding days, didn’t you know?”
“What?” Remus tried to look confused, not even wanting to think about the implications of what Felicia was saying.
“I’ll be willing to bet they have taken themselves off to that nice cottage for an afternoon of fun, if you know what I mean.” She winked knowingly, watching with amusement as a flush crept across Remus’ face. It had taken a lot of self-possession for Remus to come this far through the wedding without giving in to his conflicting feelings, but Felicia didn’t know this. Nor did she know that she was slowly taking his mind off things just by providing a friendly face and a flirtatious manner.
“They wouldn’t? Surely not… and then come back and face everyone.” Remus looked a little uneasy at this idea.
“Remus Lupin, I never had you down as a prude. Would you look at the shape of your face? That’s the sort of disapproval from someone who’s just jealous that they’re not having the same sort of fun.” Felicia was teasing him mercilessly. Under normal circumstances he would have been embarrassed by the turn of the conversation, but instead he laughed along with her, nodding in spite of himself.
“You could be right there. It’s something I need to work on.” His unease fell away, as Felicia continued to weave her easy spell around him. Sometimes magic didn’t come from the end of a wand, or from a hurriedly spoken charm. Sometimes all it took were hearts and minds that needed to find each other.
“You might not have to work too hard,” she said, with a jaunty slap on his bottom as she moved away to investigate the dark-haired witch was who had crept into the back of the church earlier. The lonely figure was now sitting in a corner of the guests’ lounge, trying desperately to disappear into the furnishings so no one would notice her. Of course fate would have it that the loudest person in the house should be the one to accost her.
“Hello there,” Felicia said, dropping down onto the sofa. “We haven’t been introduced. Felicia Forfex, hairdresser to the stars.”
“Oh, really?” The young woman peered at her carefully.
“Really, and you are?”
“Jenny… Jenny Fitzwilliam.”
“Right.” The name meant nothing to Felicia, and why should it, she thought. Most of these people were strangers anyway. “Friend of the bride? No, no don’t tell me! You look like someone…it’ll come to me… I’m really good with faces.”
“New friend, Felicia?” Tonks joined the two women on the sofa and grinned at Jenny. “Blimey, you look familiar. Good grief…you’re not any relation to Severus, are you?”
Jenny flinched at the name and nodded very reluctantly.
“Wow,” Tonks said. “I had no idea he came from a family.”
“We all come from a family,” Felicia said with her customary tinkling laugh.
“So what are you? Sister? Cousin?” Tonks asked eagerly.
“Very distant cousin, on his mother’s side,” Jenny admitted with reluctance. “I was asked to come by the organiser. In fact he bombarded me with invites and threatened to bring me by force if I didn’t show some support for Severus’ side of the family. I’ve never even met the groom. By all accounts he’s a boor of the first order.” As if realising she had been speaking for more than two seconds, Jenny shut up abruptly and lapsed back into guarded silence.
“Fitzwilliam, that name rings a bell too,” Tonks said, her brain ticking over as she tried to place the name. “Ooh! You’re from that really posh family, aren’t you? Bags and bags of money that you give to good causes. There’s a Fitzwilliam wing at St Mungo’s and a Fitzwilliam museum or something. Is that you? I bet it is.”
Jenny nodded shyly, wishing these two would leave her alone until Severus arrived so that she could just say her congratulations and leave. It was bad enough being here but being accosted by two gossipy witches was more than she could bear. Her family had had nothing to do with the Snapes ever since Vervain had married that awful, awful man and by all accounts the son was as bad as the father had been. If this went on much longer she would just make her excuses and leave. As it was she extricated herself from Tonks and Felicia’s scrutiny and headed for the garden.
She opened the front door just as another young woman reached up to turn the heavy brass handle. She didn’t understand the look of surprise on Maeve’s face at seeing someone that looked so like Severus and she tried to excuse herself as she stepped aside to allow Maeve in.
“Do I know you?” Maeve asked.
Jenny sighed at the prospect of another gossipy inquisition by some empty-headed witch. She didn’t recognise Maeve in her new outfit. With her hair tied back, the bride looked completely different from the woman Jenny had seen only fleetingly in the church and at the wedding feast.
“I don’t think so, I was just leaving.” Jenny had made her mind up to go, it was no good. She hated parties and making small talk. It was unendurable.
“Maeve, I think I’ve stood in some bloody animal droppings.” The man’s voice was sharp and complaining as Maeve smiled. She turned to see her husband wiping his foot vigorously on the grass. Jenny looked again at the red-haired woman. Maeve was the bride’s name, did that mean that the man was …
“Severus?” Jenny called as Maeve pulled out her wand and pointed it at her husband.
“Scourgify!”
Severus looked up surprised, both by the disappearance of the muck and the sound of a stranger calling his name. His face blanched as he took in his mother’s face standing by that of his wife’s. Of course, it was his mother as a young woman, the face that stared back from all those pictures that his father had kept to assuage his guilt for what he did to her.
“Who are you?” he asked, maintaining the space between himself and Jenny. As the initial shock waned he could see that this was not his mother’s young ghost come back to haunt him. This was a thinner, more pinched version of the woman that had reared him.
“Jenny Fitzwilliam. I’m a cousin from your mother’s side of the family.”
“Well, with the name Fitzwilliam you would hardly come from my father’s side, would you?” he snapped. “What are you doing here?”
“Severus.” Maeve’s voice was a warning that he only partially heeded.
“I was invited,” Jenny said, not surprised by the condescension in the man’s voice.
“By whom?” Severus asked.
“By the man that organised your wedding. I was badgered into coming, so if you want to get crabby with me I will gladly go.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Maeve said, before Severus could argue. “Come and get your cousin a drink and you can get better acquainted.”
“This day is never ending!” Severus groused. He walked towards the two women, giving Jenny a calculating stare as he stepped into the house. “Come on then, what are we waiting for?”
“He’s always this charming,” Maeve warned Jenny. “It comes of living in a dungeon with only bats for company. You’ll get used to it.”
Jenny had no intentions of getting used to it. Once she’d ‘got acquainted’ she would be taking the first Floo out of here. Still, at least this woman was slightly less irritating than the other two and would make bearable company. Fortunately the house was quiet with most people in their rooms getting changed into evening clothes so they walked through to an empty bar without being intercepted.
“So, do you live in London?” Maeve asked, as Severus slapped two glasses of Butterbeer down in front of them.
“Yes, my family have always lived in London. The family estate passed down to Severus so Darkacre was never an option.”
Maeve thought she detected a faint trace of bitterness in Jenny’s voice and glanced at Severus, who refused to look at either of them.
“That’s the way with inherited properties, isn’t it?” Maeve said lightly. “And do you work?”
“Do you?” Jenny snapped back, tired of the constant questioning.
“I work at Hogwarts,” Maeve said pleasantly. “Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.” She wasn’t warming to Jenny but she couldn’t help being polite, if only for Severus’ sake.
“Interesting job for a woman,” Jenny said. “I run our gallery.”
“The Fitzwilliam?” Maeve looked impressed.
“That’s the one. It’s a charitable concern but one member of the family always sits on the board. So, when did you two meet?”
“At school,” Maeve said. “We both attended Hogwarts. Well, I was there for a shorter time than Severus but…”
“Oh, listen to yourselves,” Severus interrupted. “Does this conversation get any more interesting or can I leave now?”
Maeve raised her annoyed face to his. How could he be so rude when she was deliberately trying to be pleasant? “You can leave if you want to, but I think you should at least talk to your cousin for a little while, don’t you? She’s come a long way to be here.”
“Haven’t we all?” Severus replied, the words rolling of his tongue in a hail of boredom. “So, hello, Jenny, pleased to meet you, now what do you want?”
Jenny stood up angrily, tipping the Butterbeer over the top of the bar as she did so.
“How dare you suggest?”
“Suggest what? I’ve never met you before and you turn up at my wedding. Who did you say invited you?” Severus’ suspicions were further aroused by her defensive attitude.
“The organiser… he never mentioned his name now I come to think of it. But he was definitely the organiser.” Jenny’s face had acquired a fierce flush.
“You came all this way on the say-so of a stranger. You really must think we are stupid! You have to have another reason?” Severus was managing to ignore Maeve’s imploring, placatory looks.
“What did he look like?” Maeve asked in a much more controlled voice than that of her husband.
“Tall man, dark hair, very good-looking… said he was working on behalf of both of you. Why wouldn’t he be telling the truth?”
“I don’t believe her,” Severus said, no longer even bothering to address Jenny.
“Severus, please,” Maeve beseeched. “I’m sure there is a perfectly rational explanation for this.”
“Rational, my foot!” he replied.
“Hello, I thought I could hear shouting.” Dumbledore looked at Maeve for an explanation but before she could say anything Jenny had picked up her bag and was heading for the door.
“I’ve never felt so unwelcome, anywhere, ever! You are exactly like people said your father was. You’re a complete lout.”
“GET OUT!” Severus yelled. Jenny quailed at his voice and was out of the door without saying anything else. Maeve looked from Severus to Dumbledore.
“Well, that went well,” she said quietly, before getting up from her seat with her lips tightly pursed together. Maeve walked past Dumbledore with a frustrated roll of her eyes. She needed some peace and quiet for a little while and she would only find that in the garden.
The caterers had just magically laid out the buffet while Fred and George were both fiddling with a large black box and some strange lights that sat on the stage in the corner of the room. As they conferred over the best way to get the thing working without Muggle means the odd blue spark shot out of the back of it.
“I told you,” George was heard to say in hushed tones.
“Don’t worry, dear brother, we’ll get this working. It just needs the right charm.” Fred appeared to be the more optimistic of the two.
Ten minutes and several explosions later they both had to admit that this was not as easy as it looked. Sticking their wands in their back pockets they left the little stage and made for the bar, both in agreement that a little shot of Firewhiskey might enliven their inspiration. Unfortunately for them they met Maeve coming in the opposite direction.
“Evening, boys,” she said, in a buttery voice so unlike her normal tone that they should have instantly been suspicious.
“Evening, Maeve, lovely day,” Fred said.
“Nice of your old man to behave himself,” George added. “Though he didn’t quite manage the blue, did he?”
“No, he didn’t. And I didn’t manage the green, either.”
The sudden look of mirth that passed between them was enough to confirm what Felicia had told her about them being at the cottage. As they hurriedly turned their backs to leave the room she saw their wands sticking out of their trousers. Before they knew what was happening she had whipped both of them out and with a muttered charm rifled through the spells that their wands had cast before finding the one she wanted. She watched with delight as their clothes gradually puckered, pulsing with colour as they took on the form of the two dresses she and Hermione had been forced to wear.
“There you go, that should teach you not to mess with a bride on her wedding day.” She tucked the wands safely into her own dress. “And you can have those back at the end of the evening. Good luck finding someone to turn you back to normal.”
“You can’t,” Fred wailed, the green taffeta rustling uncomfortably as he moved.
“You wouldn’t!” George begged.
“I can and I have,” she insisted, as a particularly loud roar came from the black box in the corner. With a huge pall of black smoke it collapsed in on itself, scattering a few strange black discs over the floor.
As the smoke cleared Fred and George wobbled forward in their dresses and looked in disappointment at the destruction of their dreams for a Muggle disco.
“What in the name of O’Reilly is going on here?” Felicia said, as she rushed in through the door, Remus close at her heels.
“I think we might need a change of entertainment,” Fred announced sheepishly.
Felicia and Remus looked at the twins in amazement before bursting into guffaws of laughter.
“I think you need a change of clothes,” Remus said. He didn’t want to ask why the twins were standing there in lime-green dresses, their feet sticking out of the bottom in a very disgusted way.
“We can’t; it’s our punishment for something we did…erm... might have done,” George explained.
“I can sort out the entertainment,” Felicia said. “Anyone got their owl with them?”
No one really knew what Felicia was planning but it had to be a better prospect than the molten mess of plastic in the corner of the dance area. Fred and George flatly refused to leave their room in their dresses. Their ability to see the funny side of things seemed to have been put to a considerable test by Maeve’s revenge. It fell to Remus to go off in search of a suitable owl but, as it turned out, the only person who had brought their owl along was Ron. Remus returned with a very agitated Pig, who flapped around the large room in such an erratic manner that he made them all dizzy. Once he had finally been brought down to earth, Felicia slipped a note to his leg and gave him complicated sounding instructions.
“What exactly are you planning?” Remus asked, with a worried frown.
“Sure, it’ll be better than what those two eejits had planned for the night,” she smiled “I think you’ll all be happy enough, if I can get the boys to come, that is.”
Maeve was certainly happy enough, and not just with Felicia’s ‘boys’, whoever they turned out to be. Apart from the little altercation with Severus’ cousin the day had gone far better than she had expected and she was beginning to regret seeing the end of it all. For someone who didn’t normally enjoy the company of crowds, she had very much enjoyed this particular gathering.
Once the charred heap in the corner had been cleared away calm reigned in the bar and, despite Fred and George sitting at a table with faces like thunder, Maeve felt confident enough to leave in order to seek out her errant husband. As she walked the corridors and knocked on doors with no success she finally accepted that he must have left the house. The garden would be the obvious place to look she thought, as she encountered Professor Sprout rearranging some climbing roses in the conservatory.
“Are you two going to explore the garden?” the professor asked, twisting one of the thorny plants into a more natural shape.
“We two?” Maeve asked.
“You and your new husband,” she gave a perceptive smile. “He’s waiting for you in the garden, by the big trees at the end. He’s got a frown on his face, though. Are you late?”
“No, not late,” Maeve said, glad to finally have tracked him down. “I think that’s just his normal expression.”
Professor Sprout gave a merry laugh and returned to the roses, bewildered that anyone could find someone with such a permanent sour expression on their face attractive. Maeve watched her deft hands place the stems carefully around the trellis, fascinated by the woman’s adeptness with plants.
“Well, have fun,” Professor Sprout said, finally satisfied with the roses and straightening up again. With a smile at Maeve, she began to shuffle towards the door that led through to the buffet. “At least, have as much fun as he can manage.”
Maeve thought back to their antics of just a few hours ago and would very much like to have told Professor Sprout that Severus was indeed capable of having fun, given the right circumstances.
The garden was heavy with the heat of the slowly sinking sun. The grasses and flowers were at their frowziest, while the unregulated air was thick with the cloying scents of summer. The earlier breeze had stilled and, apart from a few insects and the heavy drone of bees, nothing troubled the silence. Maeve was grateful that the dress she had changed into back at the cottage was light and loose. The pale green silk showered her body with airy coolness as she picked her way through the overgrown garden. The occasional nettle tried to catch at her legs but she deftly avoided any stings as she finally came to the end of the overgrown wilderness.
He was sitting at the furthest, and most unkempt, part of the garden, sheltering from the heat beneath the refuge of two wide oak trees. The bench he sat on had seen better days but was still happy to perform its intended task, standing solidly beneath the weight of the man who had chosen this spot for his solitude. Tiredness furrowed his brow, vexing his mouth into a crabby, downward slant. At the sound of her approach he raised his head and managed one of his rare, and wonderful, smiles.
“You have made your escape too,” he said.
“Not quite. I came to find you.” She joined him on the rickety bench, testing its firmness before sitting, with her hip resting firmly against his.
“Come to return me to the fray.” His hand rested on hers as they sat surrounded by the peace of nature gone wild.
“It hasn’t been so bad, has it?” Her face was so alive, filled with glowing happiness that he was forced into irony to express his feelings.
“Oh, the whole day has been drenched in joyous, delightful company.”
“Don’t be flippant,” she chided. “You must have enjoyed something.”
“Yes, I did. Two hours in a twee cottage with my wife. The rest of it has been hell. But you seem to have enjoyed yourself, and that’s what matters.”
Maeve leaned back and placed her feet on a convenient rock, which served as a very agreeable footrest. Although she had loved every minute of this strange day she felt this was the moment that would be preserved in her memory for the longest. The comfortable presence of Severus, the heady perfume of the roses, the drone of the insects and the kiss of the sun all combined to draw her into another world. Surely this was what she had been born to do, not fear the threat of destruction at every turn. His fingers stroked her own in a subconscious display of affection, and she turned to kiss him as the oaks played a gentle serenade with the rustling of their leaves.
“Your cousin didn’t come back?” she asked, breaking the kiss and the mood.
“No, thankfully.” Severus’ face closed just a little.
“Why were you so hard on her?” Maeve had learned that Severus had very good instincts for someone so logical. There had been something about that woman that had irritated them both; for Maeve it had been her less-than-endearing personality but for Severus, she knew, it had been more than that.
“There was something” – he looked to his wife in the hope that he wouldn’t need to explain – “wrong about her.”
“I know.” Her eyes held the understanding that Severus was looking for.
Severus mouth tightened in anger as he thought of the audacious attempt by the young woman to use vague family ties to gain something. “There was a reason for her visit. There was something she wanted.”
“What could she possibly want from you?” Maeve twisted the long grass between her fingers absentmindedly as she tried to guess what Severus could have that such a wealthy, bright young woman could want. A bee landed on her arm and she watched, motionless, for a few moments before it lumbered away.
“I don’t know,” he mused. “No doubt we will find out in due course. Now, I suggest we get this over with, although the cottage and you does appeal rather more than a few drunken wizards and endless, awful music.”
“Duty before pleasure,” Maeve grinned. As Severus stood up and offered her his hand she felt a strange pull to stay behind. She couldn’t decide if it was a feeling inside her or something in the garden but she felt the irresistible urge to stay right where she was.
“Something wrong?”
“Would you mind if I stayed, just for a little while? I’ll be in soon.”
Severus didn’t question her reason for wanting to stay. Bending he gave her one last kiss before heading back towards a nemesis formed from music and his inability to dance. She watched his lithe figure make its way through the fronds of grass and tall bushes, white linen clinging here and there as his sweat created a bond between fabric and skin.
The insects continued their evening dance and as she looked around her eyes picked out a half-hidden beehive. Presumably that explained the number of bees in the well-populated garden. Another bee circled her for a short while, before heading for one of the lavender bushes that had begun to overtake the rose that had once dwarfed it.
As she was about to leave, the feeling of hesitation still there but undecipherable, her attention was caught by a large spider that was busily spinning a web on the arm of the bench. Maeve watched, fascinated, as it left its web and spun a pathway towards her, its red legs covering the ground quickly. Now it began to dance in a very disjointed way, and all the while it kept spinning. But this was not traditional web. To her amazement letters began to emerge from the silky threads and those letters gradually formed words.
“Can – you —keep – a – secret?” The words shook and shimmered in the brightness that reflected from every surface in the garden.
“Yes, “ Maeve found herself saying.
“A – big – one?”
“Yes, but who are you?” The pricking sensation that covered her skin was warning her that she was likely to be dealing with an animagus, and a good one at that. It could be anyone, anyone wishing to cause her harm. She was reassured by the fact that, had it been harmful, it would not be sitting here conversing via web.
“Did – you – like – your – harp?”
“It was beautiful.” Her brow furrowed as she remembered the exquisite, tiny instrument. “Did you send it?”
“Yes.”
“Then who are you?” She repeated the question in the hope of finally getting an answer.
“Think – carefully.”
She thought, and as she thought she looked closer at the creature. Its large black body was covered with dark, black hair, right up to the point where its red legs began. It was an unusual spider, of that there was no doubt, but she couldn’t help thinking she had seen it before. And she knew, with a startled squeal, that she had seen it before. The last time she had seen this particular spider it had been crawling over a harp at Abbeylara.
“No!” She leapt from the bench. “You can’t possibly be?”
“Clever – girl. Enjoy –my –party – did – you?”
“Your party? You organised this?”
“You – didn’t – think – Dumbledore – could – manage – such – superb – taste -- did – you?”
“Incredible,” she was almost speechless. “Aren’t you tired with all that spinning? Why don’t you just transform back?”
“Too – dangerous. – Don’t -- tell – anyone – promise – me.”
“I promise, but how did you...”
“Maeve?” Harry’s voice rang out across the garden and she glanced up hurriedly to try and stall him.
“I’m coming, Harry. Wait there.”
She looked back to speak to the spider but to her dismay found that it had gone. Despite pulling frantically at the bushes that surrounded the bench she could find no sign of it, or its conversational web. There was no indication that there had ever been a spider there at all. With her excitement tempered by sorrow that their conversation had been broken like that, she took her secret back to the house and the party.
Harry stood by the door, his hand shielding his eyes from the dropping sun, and smiled as she came tripping back through the sun-soaked warmth of the garden. She greeted him with a smile that wasn’t altogether natural; without Harry she may have found out more from her friendly spider and now the opportunity was lost.
“Snape told me to come and fetch you,” he said. “The band has arrived.”
“Band?” She could already hear the strains of a fiddle coming from the bar and assumed that Felicia’s boys had done the business and arrived to save the day.
“Felicia’s brother and his friends. They’re pretty good actually.” Harry pulled a sprig of something that he could only identify as a weed from her dress. “You really stitched Fred and George up, no one will dare change them back after Felicia told them about what they did to your dresses.”
“Good!” Maeve stepped into the conservatory as Harry made to follow her. “They deserved it.” She turned back causing Harry to collide with her and for a moment he felt the same heat from her that he had felt back in Diagon Alley. A sudden burst of warmth that they could now identify as being a definite bond, albeit an over-tight one that they would escape if they could. “Your speech was a brave one.”
“Yeah, well… he deserved it, I suppose.” In many ways Harry was still unable to articulate certain things, his diminishing hate of Severus Snape being one of them.
“You deserved it more, Harry. You have behaved like a real gentleman today and your parents must be very happy with their son. That apology from Severus was long overdue.”
“He told you about that?”
“He did. He knows what it is to be judged by his father’s standards and I think he finally realised that’s what he had been doing. I’m glad you two have had this brief opportunity to appreciate that the other is not entirely bad.”
“Harry!” Ginny was flushed as she flew into the conservatory. “Oh, Professor,” she said, silenced by their expressions of mutual understanding. “Sorry, did I interrupt?”
“No, don’t worry.” Maeve bent to give Harry a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, for everything you have done today. It has meant a great deal to me. If I don’t get the chance to speak to you again properly before I leave I just wanted to say that you are a very special young man. I’m lucky to have met you.”
“Oh, okay,” he said, his voice heavy with hesitancy as he didn’t quite know how to respond properly.
The band of musicians had found their feet and the rapid fire notes of an Irish jig began to pour over them, the volume enhanced by a Sonorous Charm. Ginny looked to Harry expectantly with a foot that was already tapping to the rhythm of the lively music.
“I think Ginny would like to dance,” Maeve said. “Why don’t you go and enjoy the party? I’ll be through in a minute.”
Harry bolted for the door with Ginny, desperate to enjoy this last bit of fun before they returned to Grimmauld Place. The freedom they had felt here at Ardnarea hadn’t been matched by anything else in such a long time. Everyone had felt it and was grateful for it; such peaceful interludes would be few and far between now. Maeve was feeling strange. This unsettled feeling had started in the garden and was following her into the house, refusing to let her go. She sat down in one of the wicker chairs that looked out onto the grounds and wondered what was causing her to feel so melancholic. And then she knew. Dumbledore had lied to them again. He had said Roderick was dead, told them he was organising this wedding. Even on this day, this day of all days, there had been lies. Her whole wedding had been built on a foundation of untruths; a final slap in the face just when she thought the lies had ended.
The tears came silently as she recounted every lie that had been told over the past few years. Falsehood after falsehood lined up before her in ranks of painful indignity. Why couldn’t Dumbledore have done it himself? Even if it had meant wearing those awful green dresses it would have been better than this feeling of being lied to again.
Remus found her with her head resting in her pale hands, her slightly trembling shoulders giving only the slightest clue that there was anything wrong. His first thought was that Severus had done something to upset her. Despite his best efforts he still couldn’t fully believe that Severus would make her completely happy, even when he took into consideration what had been said in the chapel.
He placed gentle hands around her shoulders and said nothing. Maeve would tell him if she wanted to, or she would just dry her tears and get on with it. The still-open door swung gently on its hinges as a wind of discontent blew threw the garden and into the house. It brought with it a cool end to the day and Remus was grateful for the relief from the heat.
“Dumbledore lied,” Maeve said, her voice muffled by her hands.
“What?” Remus asked. The coolness was rapidly developing into a chill and he got up to close the door, leaving her marooned on the seat.
She raised her head and repeated what she had said. Remus suddenly felt immense frustration with Dumbledore, without even knowing what the lie had been. The headmaster had done so much for him and yet so much damage had been done to others — Harry and Maeve were just two of them. He knew prices had to be paid, he knew that sometimes judgement was impaired by the risks they all faced, but couldn’t Dumbledore just for once have told her the truth about something?
“In what way?” he asked finally.
“He told me he had organised this wedding, and he didn’t. Someone else did.”
The smile that crossed Remus’ mouth was too quick for him. He didn’t get the chance to hide it before it presented itself as a fait accompli, making Maeve frown at his unforeseen humour.
“What are you smiling for?” she asked sharply.
“Oh, Maeve, you daft girl.” He didn’t even stop to consider if this was the right tack to take with her. She was overwrought with the events of the day; emotions must have been careering around in her head like demented moths around a candle. He bent before her, taking cold hands into his own.
“Did you enjoy it?” he asked, his earnest face causing her to stop frowning.
“Yes, of course I did.” She had no idea what he was getting at but she couldn’t deny the pleasures that day had brought.
“Then what does it matter who organised it? Perhaps he thought he might fail you and asked someone else to do it. He would have wanted the best for you today, Maeve; he wouldn’t have wanted you to be disappointed. Surely you can see that.” Remus’ argument made sense but Maeve still wasn’t happy.
“Then why not just tell me? He must know I would have understood.” She gave a little hiccup as her slow tears finally stopped.
“He’s old and proud. Sometimes we just want people to think the best of us, no matter what it costs. In this case it was just a little white lie.”
“But it wasn’t little!” Her strength of feeling surprised him. Remus could see at once there was something more to this but what it was he was never destined to find out.
“Good grief, sniffing round my wife already, Lupin?”
Severus was not best pleased to find Maeve with her hands buried in Remus’ and he was only too happy to make these feelings clear. He had been listening to this insufferable music for long enough but it wasn’t as bad as finding this little tête-à-tête going on. He barely registered the tear streaks on her cheeks as his resentment got the better of him.
“I am not sniffing around anything, Severus. I will not apologise for spending some time with Maeve, so don’t expect it.” Remus straightened up, placing Maeve’s hands carefully down on her lap and resting his hand on her shoulder. Remus knew he had to assert his right to Maeve’s friendship right from the start. He would not be steam-rollered into giving her up just because she had a ring on her finger.
“Severus, don’t be so silly,” Maeve found herself agreeing with Remus and realised there was a little skirmish going on between them. She had just done the equivalent of taking Remus’ handkerchief before the jousting started.
“I am not being silly,” he hissed. “What do you expect me to think when I walk in on the two of you like this?”
“Oh for goodness’ sake, Severus.” Remus was growing increasingly appalled by Severus’ tone and wanted to put a stop to it. “You see what you want to see. I see a woman who is tired and upset about something. I suggest you take Maeve for a dance before taking her on your honeymoon.”
“A honeymoon you covet, no doubt.” Severus was not about to be sidetracked so easily. It was not easy to deny his feelings of jealousy over Remus’ close connection to Maeve.
“I’m think you should take her now,” Remus insisted, closing his hand tightly around Maeve’s shoulder blade. “Before you say something we will both regret.” The pressure of his fingers gave her the nudge she needed and she stood up, brushing down her dress before walking across to Severus with her head high.
“You are a ridiculous man, Severus. You need to stop this nonsense and accept that things are what they are. Now please take me to the buffet, feed me a sausage roll and let’s have a dance.” Her face was white with tiredness but her mind still sought out one final flourish on this extraordinary day.
Severus finally tore his eyes off Remus, who stood by the window with a composed air about him, and placed a proprietarial hand around her, guiding her away from the clutches of her good friend.
The bunch of Irish musicians who had invaded the bar had whipped the guests into a frenzy of dancing; some good and some that were comically less than accomplished. Arthur was throwing himself around the room with abandon, much to the amusement of his wife and children, while Felicia was leading Charlie in a rather more sedate fashion. Ron had found the punch again, busily ladling it into a very large glass while keeping one eye on his mother, and Ginny was happily laughing with Harry over the state of Fred and George. Dumbledore was watching the proceedings with a satisfied glint in his eye and looked across when Severus walked in with Maeve. He could see from the expression on both of their faces that they had had their first slight altercation of their short marriage and he expected they had better get used to it. They were both hardheaded and he wondered how marriage would affect their stubbornness. He tried to give them a jaunty wave but Maeve looked away quickly, much to Dumbledore’s confusion. He continued to watch as she manhandled Severus on to the busy dance floor and attempted to show him how to reel around the room in time to the insistent music. Severus stumbled several times but to everyone’s surprise soon picked up the timing and began to match Maeve step for step. They flashed by everyone in a whirl of white and green, their bodies entwining in a flurry of intense pleasure.
Tonks clapped her hands in excitement. “Look at him go!” she shrieked. “That’s amazing.”
“Incredible,” spluttered Ron, in between gulps of the frothy punch. He was trying to work up the courage to ask Hermione for a quick turn around the room but she was surreptitiously nodding towards the door and he wondered what she could possibly be thinking about.
“I think Hermione wants you,” Neville said, wishing some girl was nodding at him in that clandestine manner.
Ron stumbled over to her and his eyes once again fell to admiring her bare shoulders, which earned him a slap from her. She had been finally alerted to his leering by Harry, who had though he ought to point it out in the hope that she would persuade Ron to stop it. Harry allowed himself a smile of smug satisfaction as her palm rebounded off his friend’s face.
The music changed, calming the room into a soft lull as it took on the haunting shape of the land that it spoke of. The evocative notes sang of soft, green valleys and sharp, perilous cliffs, of bottomless, abundant rivers filled with fish and soaring mountains that strived to meet the often-grey sky, of deep wells of beauty that had barely been tapped and, most poignantly, of the very nature of love itself and the ties that bind souls together.
It bound Maeve to Severus in much the same way it bound her to the land of her birth. It wove a spell that no one dared break as the couple slowed to a gentle sway, their bodies so close that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. His breath warmed her while his eyes offered an apology for his earlier behaviour with Remus. The icy clutch of jealousy and rejection was one that was not going to be easy for him to break but for her he would try, for her he would try and lay to one side the person he had been and had tried to unsuccessfully break free from. Maeve knew his thoughts and wondered if he knew how much she didn’t want him to change, how much she loved him just as he was. She didn’t want him to become something he wasn’t, she just wanted him to accept that people were who they were and no amount of bitterness on his part could change that.
“Let’s go,” she said, her words weaving in and out of the musical tapestry that continued to colour the room.
“Go? But the party has only just started.” The leap of relief in his face was quickly extinguished as he prepared to struggle on for her benefit.
“You don’t want to be here, and you know, I don’t want to be here either. Let’s make our excuses and go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely, I believe transport has been arranged so let’s just grab our things and escape. They’ll all understand a man and a woman on their wedding night.” Her hand slipped teasingly down his back and began to play at his shirt again.
Remus tried to enter without drawing attention to his presence but Felicia noticed and went to pull him over. He could see from the look on Maeve’s face that they were about to leave and he felt the mixed emotions that so often plagued him. But she was already gone from him in her heart anyway. It was time for Remus to look to the future and lay the ghosts of the past to rest. As Felicia reached him and poked him affectionately with her finger he allowed his hand to take hers and lead her out to join Maeve and Severus in the centre of the room. It wasn’t long before others grasped the general idea and soon the glossy wooden floor was filled with couples. Molly and Arthur, Charlie and Tonks, Harry and Ginny, Professors Flitwick and Sprout, Dumbledore and Professor Trelawney, Fred and George (a bizarre sight in their dresses) and Neville, who had finally dared ask a fifth year to join him. With all this going on Maeve took Severus’ hand in hers and led him out through the other couples.
“It’s time to say goodbye,” she said quietly. “Dumbledore promised that our transport would be waiting by the front door with our bags in it.”
“I dread to think,” Severus replied, but whatever it was it would be better than spending any longer here, surrounded by this crush of group joy.
“Come on then,” she grinned, slipping her hand into her dress pocket and pulling out Fred and George’s wands. “Better leave these behind though, or they’ll be stuck like that until we get back.” She dropped them onto a table, where they would be easily found later.
They stole along the corridors, feeling like errant soldiers abandoning their battle stations. If either of them had any reservations about not officially saying goodbye they quickly dismissed them. As Severus hastily opened the front door, before Maeve had an attack of the sorrowful goodbyes, they were greeted with a sight that made Maeve glow with pleasure.
“Oh, Severus.” Her little sigh was caught by the wind and carried away in a rush of glee. “It’s a car.”
“I can see that,” he said, doubt landing on his face with a heavy jolt. “What are we supposed to do with it?”
“Drive it, of course.” Her eyebrows knitted together at his pointless question. “I wonder whose idea this was?” With a tug on his sleeves she dragged him over to its side and pushed him against the warm metal, leaning into him to give him an all-encompassing hug that caught him between pleasure and impending doom, not that he was aware of that.
“And where are we driving to?”
“You’ll have to wait and see,” she said. Coyness made her even more attractive in Severus’ eyes and he was willing to play the game. He opened the door and surveyed the leather interior of the car with appreciation. At least someone had gone to the trouble of getting the best they could. Maeve jumped into the driving seat behind him, recollections of the trip to the cottage with Remus still glittering in her memory. Their luggage was safely stowed in the boot, even Severus’ much-despised wedding robes, and there was a note pinned to the dashboard.
Harry asked me what I thought you would like and I knew instantly. Tell Severus I’m sorry, but I knew you’d love this. At least this time it’s not me! All my love, Remus. (and Harry, whose gift this is)
She tucked the note into the door-well and turned the key in the ignition, risking a glance at Severus’ face as she did so. He looked quite happy, sitting there on the soft leather with his wife beside him and a long holiday on their own stretching before him. As she stabbed her foot on the accelerator though his expression changed and his hands automatically fell to his sides to allow him a firm hold on his seat. As she bounced the machine along the lane the clattering that arose from behind them made Severus even more alarmed. He turned a worried head to see hundreds of Cracklespotted Clams tied to the back of the car with Self-Tying Twine. He groaned at the tackiness of it, but his mind was soon taken off the Clams by the close proximity of fences and trees to the speeding car.
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” he asked weakly.
“Trust me, darling. Would I do anything silly?”
And as dusk fell around them Severus had his answer Maeve would do an awful lot of things that were silly, not least marrying him.
.