It was with some trepidation that Hermione, Ron and Harry entered the Potion Master’s office the
following day. Snape was sat behind his desk, looking, if possible, eviller
than usual. Coolly, he indicated that they be seated, giving Hermione the
barest of smiles when Ron and Harry looked at one another, confused.

“We are awaiting the arrival of a few of my colleagues,” Snape began,
shortly. “I understand that I have the three of you to thank for my head
wound,” he said, in a menacing voice. Hermione tried very, very hard not to
meet her Professor’s eye.

Harry and Ron, for once, appeared to have lost the ability
to speak.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?” he glared at the three of
them in turn. Hermione appeared to be shaking with silent mirth – the game
appeared to be up. However…

“Miss Granger?”

Hermione’s eyes shot up; the girl managed to appear mildly terrified,
only the occasional uncontrolled movement betrayed her. Merlin, he thought, by the
time she’s Amelia’s
age the two of them will be perfectly capable of terrorising a small country.

“Sir?” she managed.

“You knowingly attacked a teacher, what have you got to say for
yourself?”

Very carefully, Hermione began, “Well, you had gone a bit mad, sir.”

In the seats next to her, the boys’ eyes widened in astonishment and both
tried to look at her through the corners of their eyes. Severus smirked slightly, then remembered that he
should be being ‘the-bat-of-the-dungeons’ as Pomona had recently re-christened him.

“I had gone a bit mad,” he repeated, coldly. “I hardly think that you
ought to be the judge of that, Miss Granger, given the company in which I had found you.”

Hermione had gone very pink; Harry made a move, probably to say something in
defence of the two men who had once again managed to cause a considerable
amount of chaos not two evenings previously, but he was stunned into silence by
what happened next.

Both Hermione and Severus had, at that moment, the misfortune to meet
one another’s gaze and they promptly erupted into gales of helpless laughter.

Harry and Ron, who were clearly of the opinion that they
were hallucinating, stared open-mouthed between their best friend, who had sunk
deeper into her chair and was crying with laughter, and their Potions Master,
who was clutching his stomach with mirth.

Maybe that bump on the head was
worse than we thought, Ron mused, but
why is Hermione joining in?

Severus and
Hermione were beginning to calm down when Harry decided that the order of the universe
needed to be re-established.

“Erm… Hermione?” he tried, quietly.

“Ha ha –I’m s-sorry Harry, Ron – it was just too f-f-funny!” she attempted
to catch her breath before addressing Severus, who was
once again wearing his customary frown. “I knew that was a wind up,” she said,
shaking her head at him.

Severus’s calm
exterior fractured for a split second, and the boys saw that he too was still
trying not to laugh. It is possible that
if this continues much longer Weasley’s jaw may actually detach, he
thought.

Thankfully though, there was a knock at the door.

“Come,” Severus called, in a commanding tone.

Amelia, Remus and Minerva filed in. Amelia took one look at Harry and Ron’s gaping faces and smacked Hermione lightly
on the arm. Glaring at Severus, she said “You two. I don’t know.”

Feeling that they were on sturdier ground if three other teachers were
present, Ron began, “Erm… Professor Snape? Are you feeling alright?”

“Never better, Mr Weasley, thank-you.”

“If we could get on please, Severus,” Minerva sighed, settling on a chair beside Remus,
who was smiling very slightly.

Severus nodded,
courteously.

“Professor Snape has called us all here to discuss Black’s
escape,” Minerva began. “Perhaps you had better begin, Severus.”

“I have heard the version of events that the three of you described,”
Snape said coldly, “a description that I admit I was loathe to believe until I
spoke with Miss Brown, here. Do any of you know what a Reader is?”

Hermione, for once, stayed silent. Could
this mean…?

Ron glanced at Hermione, then at Amelia.

“I’ve heard – I mean, Mum told me once – that a Reader was someone who
can read minds…”

“Correct, Mr Weasley,” Minerva said
approvingly. “But it’s not just minds, readers often see the truth more easily
than others, and they learn exceptionally quickly.”

Harry was frowning to himself.

“What does this have to do with Sirius’s – I mean – Black’s escape?”

“We’re getting there, Potter,” said Severus, coolly. “The Minister was reluctant to
believe your stories, believing – as I did – that you had been Confunded…
unfortunately he was similarly reluctant to accept Lupin’s word, given his
condition.”

Harry glared at Snape, but Remus was nodding sadly
and motioned him to continue. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Amelia take his hand in hers.

“Miss Brown was assumed to have been similarly
Confunded, given Black’s skill and the short length of time she has spent in
our world…”

He looked at Amelia
then, uncertain.

“Clearly, I wasn’t,” she said. Turning to Minerva, she continued, “When Black told his story,
I asked if I could Read him… I showed Severus
yesterday.”

Minerva had gone
quite pale.

“And?” she said, in an odd sort of voice.

“And everything he told them was true. Peter betrayed the Potters, not Sirius,” she
paused and glanced at the three children. “I think Severus has asked us all here to put together a case
for a pardon.”

All three of them gaped back at her.

“Since he was never technically convicted, the legal part shouldn’t be
too difficult,” said Remus, matter-of-factly, “it’ll be convincing the
Minister, the Aurors and the Wizengamot – oh, and the general public of
course.”

“I think, with the testimony of the three of you, and Amelia’s material record – sorry Amelia – we’ll be on good ground for an appeal,”
said Severus.

“What am I, exhibit B?” Amelia
asked, amused.

“Are you serious?” asked Harry,
astonished.

“Absolutely, Mr Potter. I would not have brought you here
otherwise.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth soundlessly for
a few moments. Minerva, however, appeared to have recovered her
voice.

“Well. We have a lot to get through. Perhaps I could see that ‘record,’ Amelia? Severus, would
you floo the headmaster please, I think he ought to hear this…”

0o0o0o0

It had been nearly a week since
Sirius’s escape from the castle, and a week since the three of them had had
their bewildered meeting with Severus, and things were
beginning to return to normal. The majority of students were enjoying the
freedom from both the exams and their lectures, were spending time in the
grounds, lazing about in the sunshine.

Harry was spending time with
Hagrid, who had been delighted to discover that Buckbeak was ok, and was
subsequently baking rock hard cakes like there was no tomorrow.

Hermione and Ron
had settled under their beech tree on the shore of the Lake.
Around them their classmates were playing games of exploding snap and
gobstones.

Hermione was idly flicking through one of Amelia’s old books while Ron watched his brothers teasing the Giant Squid
in the distance. He had been unusually quiet, Hermione noted, since Harry had left them around half an hour before.

She reached the end of the book. Amelia had apparently taped a photo in the back
page. It had been taken the previous summer on the gates of Aunty Bea’s farm. Amelia and Hermione were perched on the gates,
along with a few of Amelia’s
old Uni’ friends. She ran her thumb along the edge of the picture; the next
time she saw the ‘ladies’ she wouldn’t be far off coming of age – in their eyes
at least.

Fourteen. It had been at fourteen that Amelia’s… quirks… had come to the fore. She had
said it was like being far too young and far too old all at the same time.

Fourteen… she’d have to make some tough decisions in the next few months.
She knew that Aunty
Bea and Amelia would begin to treat her as an adult… and
certain things would be expected of her.

She became aware that Ron was
looking at her, an odd expression on his face.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was miles away, did you say something?”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on then,” she said, laying the book aside.

“I heard you and Prof – Amelia – talking
in the tunnel… what did she mean, ‘like before’?”

Shit.

It seemed, for a moment, as if her heart had stopped. Her face must have
registered some of the shock she was feeling, as Ron quickly continued.

“I mean, you don’t have to say, it’s just… I know she lost her Mum, and
you used to talk about your Mum and Dad all the time in first year, but this
last couple of years…”

Hermione was still staring at him, horrified. Had she been that obvious?

Ron bit his lip. He really hadn’t wanted to
upset her.

“I just – you know me and Harry are
always around if you need us…”

“I – they – I….”

He scooted closer to her and put his arm around her now-shaking
shoulders, albeit a little awkwardly.

“I was staying with Mel,” she
said, thickly. “Having a girly weekend… we’d gone out for chips and we were
walking back to her flat. She just stopped dead in the middle of the street –
I’ve never seen her look that scared – she went all pale and dropped her chips
and ran off down the street, faster than I knew she could move. Of course, I
followed her… it was weird… like I already knew where we were going…” She gave
a small sob. “By the time I got to our street, Amelia was already there… she’d been digging
through the rubble and she’d found – she found my – my Dad… she held his hand
until he – he –”

She broke off and sobbed into his shirt; very embarrassed, but worried
for her, he held her tighter. Around them, the joys of summer continued loudly;
Lee Jordan had fallen into the Great Lake and the twins were rolling around on the grass,
laughing until they cried.

“She saw me stood there behind her and she held onto me until the
authorities came and sorted everything out. Aunty Sal – Mel’s Mum – had been round at mine too… we’re
all we have left.”

“No you’re not,” said Ron, with
feeling. “Amelia’s got Remus… and for some reason, Snape… and
you’ve got Harry and me – you’ll always have us. You could
have told us.”

“I know… but I thought if I didn’t say it out loud, maybe it wouldn’t be
as real…”

Ron couldn’t think of a single thing to say to
that, so he stayed quiet and held her until she stopped crying.

“Sorry,” she said, in a small voice. Ron gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“It’s ok, ‘Mione.”

She gave him a small smile as she wiped her eyes.

“…Am I interrupting anything?” asked Harry, an amused expression on his face. Upon
seeing Hermione’s face this soon cascaded to concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well…”

0o0o0o0

It was a hot summers’ day when Sirius Black Apparated beside the ruins of
a small cottage. Looking around to check he’d been unobserved he set off around
the edge of a field of corn that surrounded the house. The sun was hot on his
handsome face and the sweet smells of summer surrounded him.

It had been a month since Dumbledore had asked to meet him and Remus in
an obscure pub on Dartmoor and handed him his full pardon. To say that
he’d been surprised would be an understatement; when he found out that Severus Snape had largely been behind the appeal he was certain that he had somehow
switched realities with some other, Slytherin controlled Sirius Black.

Needless to say, he and Remus had proceeded to get royally plastered and
had pitched up at Amelia’s flat, rat arsed and delighted at about
four in the morning. Amelia
had made them share the sofa.

She’d also made them breakfast.

Sirius still couldn’t get over how lucky Remus was, and told him so,
repeatedly, as Amelia made up the guest bedroom for him and forced
him into the bathroom.

He’d spent the following month organising the purchase of a cottage in the
depths of the country for he and Harry to
share, hacking his hair back into sleek submission and reclaiming various
belongings from old friends. Hagrid had been sorry to let the bike go, he knew,
but not sorry to see him free.

Free.

It was a good feeling.

So here he was, dressed to the nines, wandering down a country lane
surrounded by apple trees, the sounds of a party in the distance. This, he
suspected, indicated that he was nearing his destination.

A set of gates swung into view as he rounded a corner. There were
balloons tied to them.

Around the gates a small gaggle of teenagers were laughing and joking
together; one of them detached herself from the group and walked towards him,
grinning.

Hermione was wearing what could only be described as an unlikely set of
clothes; she’d apparently opted for tiny denim jeans, what Sirius could only
hope was a cropped t-shirt and a suspiciously pink checked shirt. If he didn’t
know that the boys would be joining them later on – and that Hermione was
related to Amelia – he would worry about the girl. Ron wasn’t going to know what had hit him.

“Hello Hermione,” he said, returning her grin.

“Sirius,” she nodded, graciously. “Glad you could make it – the party’s
in the meadow, though if you want to try your hand at apple picking with the
rest of us, you want the orchard. Although,” she gave him an appraising look,
“you’re not really dressed for climbing trees.”

“You are, I suppose?” he quipped. Hermione stuck out her tongue in a
rather un-Hermione like way. “Remus here yet?”

“Nope, that’s why I’m waiting here.”

“Are you meeting everyone?”

“No – I want to see his expression when Aunty Bea meets him,” she cracked a wicked grin. “Nasty right hook, has Bea.”

Sirius, unable to decide whether or not she was kidding, smiled a little
bemusedly and made his way past the group of teenagers into the farmyard. The
girls giggled at him as he passed.

The party was indeed in full swing in the meadow, but he paused by the
orchard gate anyway. Not dressed for
climbing trees, honestly, he thought.

“Black,” said a clipped voice behind him.

Out of habit, Sirius’s hand flew to his wand, but he turned without
drawing it.

“Snape.”

They regarded one another with animosity – and not a little curiosity –
for a few moments, before Severus handed
him one of the two bottles of cider in his hands. Astonished, Sirius took it.

“I have been informed by our illustrious host that this is last year’s
stock and we must ‘finish it off’ before they lay down the new stuff.”

Reluctantly, and without taking his eyes off the other man’s face he took
a sip; the cider was cool and warming at the same time. Sirius frowned.

“Odd aftertaste,” he said, uncertainly.

“Amelia said some of them were laced with ginger…
apparently ‘downing them until your eyes water’ is a fabulous hobby,” said Severus, with obvious disdain.

There was a shout from nearby, both men turned to see one of the apple
pickers who’d spent too much time at the cider table fall out of a nearby tree,
cursing.

Several apple pickers descended their ladders to check on him.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I… Thank you, Severus. Remus tells me the pardon was largely due
to you.”

The other man made a noncommittal sound.

“I’d say it was a team effort,” he turned to Sirius. “This in no way
means I like you, you understand, but Amelia and Beatrice were quite adamant that we were to remain
cordial ‘on their turf,’ as they put it.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about this Beatrice,” said Sirius, darkly.

“A formidable woman, certainly,” said Severus, raising an eyebrow.

“Still, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Severus, a
little awkwardly.

“You two boys getting on?” Amelia
had apparently dealt swiftly with the fallen apple-picker, who was none the
worse for wear, save a few bruises. “Ooh, you got a gingery one – is it good?”

Sirius took another involuntary sip.

“Smooth,” he said, his eyes watering.

Amelia cracked a grin.

“My own recipe, you know.”

“Indeed?” Sirius caught sight of a mass of red-heads in the distance. “Harry’s here,” he said.

The three of them turned to look as Hermione met them at the gate; Fred and George slapped her on the back in an approving
manner. Ron and Harry didn’t make it past the gate.

Sirius and Amelia grinned; Severus chuckled into his cider.

“Hello Amelia, dear!”

“Molly! How are you?” Amelia allowed herself to be enveloped into a hug
as Molly Weasley descended upon them.

“Arthur,” nodded Severus, curtly.

“Severus,” replied Arthur. “Er- you must be Sirius,” he said,
extending a hand, “Harry’s
told us all about you.”

Sirius took his hand and shook it warmly.

“He’s mentioned you too – thank you for being so kind to him.”

“Not at all, he’s – oh,” said Arthur, his eyes travelling back to the trio at the
gate. Ron had gone very red in the face; Harry appeared to be in shock. Hermione stalked
off to join Ginny with her brothers in the yard.

Behind him, Amelia sniggered.

“We take a bit of getting used to, when we’re on our own ground,” she
said, nodding happily at Hermione.

“That you do.”

“Remus!” Amelia kissed him on the cheek before being
enveloped into yet another hug.

Harry and Ron wandered over to Sirius; they appeared to be
arguing about Hermione.

“But did you see what she was wearing?”
Ron was asking in an exasperated fashion.
“Anyone might see her and think, well…” he trailed off.

A stunning, curly haired woman was approaching the little group in a
determined manner; the flowery dress she was wearing did nothing to diminish
the air of menace she was projecting.

“Kindly unhand my niece young man!” she snapped.

Amelia rolled her eyes; most of the men present
looked terrified. Remus struggled to resist the urge to run back across the
farmyard and vault the fence.

The formidable Aunty Beatrice looked Remus up and down with an expression
of extreme distaste.

“What do you think you were doing? Hmm?”

Faces were beginning to emerge behind the bushes and trees that lined the
meadow. If the current line-up was anything to go by, the local village had
turned out and been joined by the majority of the staff of Hogwarts. Hagrid
could just be seen, towering above the rest and trying not to laugh; beneath
the hedge line, Poppy kicked him in the shin – a considerable feat given their
difference in stature.

“I – er – I,” stammered Remus.

“Bea…”

“You be quiet young lady,” Bea
snapped at Amelia.

“I’m not twelve.”

“I said, be quiet!”

Sirius gulped and took an involuntary step back, as did Severus. Amongst the gawping Weasleys, Hermione
sniggered; Amelia glared at her.

“Well?”

Remus looked as if his capacity to speak had been ripped up and stamped
upon.

“That’s what I thought,” snapped Bea, then a sly smile spread across her
features. “But you didn’t run, so that’s a start.” She gave him another
appraising look and grinned. “You’ll do,” she said, warmly, and to almost
everyone’s astonishment she smacked him across his back and laughed. “Well,
what are you all stood gawping at? This is a harvest party, isn’t it? None of
you are up a ladder, and none of you appear to be revelling, so let’s get to
it!”

And with that, she marched back across the yard and into the meadow.

Remus gave Amelia a wide eyed look, and she shrugged,
apologetically.

Sirius clapped him on the back and expressed his feelings exactly.

“You’re doomed, mate.”

0o0o0o0

The party showed no signs of slowing down as the ladders were packed away
and the stars came out. Amelia’s
university friends had put on some loud rock music and were happily jumping
around the field, dragging Hermione and Ginny with them; upon enquiring, he had
discovered that the strange whirling dance that the one with the blue hair was
doing was called ‘windmilling’. Severus was
avoiding them, partly because he wasn’t fond of dancing, and partly because
anyone near the windmilling was in danger of losing an eye. Amelia had been
dancing with them, but Severus realised that he hadn’t seen her around for a
while. He looked around… there hadn’t been much sign of Remus for a while
either.

The revellers had descended into a variety of ‘camps’ around the meadow:
the wizarding adults had more or less divided themselves into male and female
groups. Arthur Weasley was talking animatedly with Filius and
Hagrid, while Molly, Bea and Pomona were producing ever-more raucous laughter as
the cider stores dwindled. Sirius had wandered off with one of Amelia’s friends to look at her motorbike.

He watched as the Weasley twins dragged a very reluctant Harry and Ron onto the ‘dancefloor’ and Percy, his glasses somewhat askew, followed them drunkenly.

Severus laughed
to himself. He’d never thought he’d enjoy a party this much. A snort of
laughter from beside him pulled him from his thoughts.

Turning, he found himself stood beside another of Amelia’s friends, a redheaded archaeologist he’d
been briefly introduced to earlier in the evening. He couldn’t for the life of
him remember her name.

“Sorry,” she said, with a grin. “I love people watching.”

In the back of his mind, Severus
registered that his new acquaintance looked stunning. He ignored it.

“As do I…” he said. “Forgive me, I appear to have forgotten your name.”

“That’s quite alright, I can’t remember yours, either,” she smiled, and
held out her hand. “Hazel Wells… but most people call me Bones.”

“Severus Snape,” he responded, shaking her hand; it was
soft, he noticed, and pleasant to the touch. “But most people call me
‘bat-of-the-dungeons’.”

To his delight, Bones laughed. Why was he blushing?

“Interesting nickname,” she said.

“I’m – my office is in the dungeons… at the school.”

“You teach with Amelia?”

“Yes.”

“This Remus fellow, I suppose he’s a good sort?”

Severus paused, about to return to his usual pastime of ridiculing any
Marauder he could bring to mind, but thought of Amelia, looking so happy
dragging Remus about the ‘dance floor’ to some obscure Muggle song.

“Yes, he’s alright, I suppose,” on Bones’s sceptical look he added. “We
haven’t always got on, but he treats Amelia well.” This seemed to satisfy his new
friend, so he decided that it would be politic to change the subject. “How did
you get your nickname, might I enquire?”

“I’m an osteologist,” she smiled. “I work with dead people – they don’t
talk back.”

“Sounds like my kind of job,” said Severus, smiling
back, despite himself.

“And you, a teacher,” said Bones, very much amused.

Severus was
saved from further small talk by Amelia,
who was banging on the cider table with a tankard to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi everyone,” she said brightly; Severus could
see Remus stood a little way behind her, grinning like a madman. “On behalf of Aunty Bea, Hermione and myself, I’d just like to thank everyone who helped get in
so many apples today – I hope you’ve enjoyed the produce from last year’s
harvest. The assorted Bradford grad’s would like to make it known that the
karaoke will be beginning soon, and that they are severely disappointed in the
lack of enthusiasm so far shown for dancing around like loonies – I believe
that this is something of a challenge levelled at ‘team Hogwarts’. I’d also
like to announce that the annual cider boat race is about to begin at the far
end of the meadow – anyone under the age of fourteen and the faint of heart
need not apply.” There were several hearty cheers from the Weasley twins, who
appeared to be setting up a Weasley boat race team; Harry and Ginny both looked quite relieved to be
excluded, though Hermione was enthusiastically explaining the rules to Percy, who looked like he’d currently agree to anything.

Sirius and his new friend sidled back into the circle, clothing a little
rumpled. Severus rolled his eyes.

“Those of you who wish to escape my wrath should note that anyone being
sick inside the farmhouse should clean it up or run for their lives,” interjected
Beatrice, cheerfully. Several of the villagers
laughed.

“And finally,” said Amelia,
reaching out a hand to Remus, “Remus would like to make an announcement of his
own.”

Remus blushed, but pulled Amelia to
him.

“Some of you will know that Amelia and
I have been seeing one another for a while now…”

There were a few murmurs among the crowd; Sirius looked over at Severus, eyebrow raised. From somewhere beside
Hagrid, Filius piped up, “Only after a considerable amount of encouragement!”

A lot of the assembled wizards laughed; Amelia and Remus both went pink.

“… er yes. Well, tonight I asked Amelia if she would do me the honour of taking my
hand in marriage.”

The meadow fell silent, possibly in shock.

“And, er, she said yes.”

It was as if the field had exploded with sound. Amelia and Remus found themselves being variously
clapped on the back, shaken hands with and hugged. Somehow Filius managed to
get through the crowd to squeakily wish them all the best before they were
swamped by enthusiastic archaeologists.

Once the initial excitement wore off, someone turned the music back on
and the Hogwarts professors, riled, perhaps, by the assertion that they
couldn’t hack it on the dance floor, joined in with gusto. Filius even sang a
duet with a rather tipsy Minerva when the dreaded karaoke began.

Severus swiftly
fled the group of chattering well-wishers and claimed another cider. Reflecting
on how happy his new family was, he gazed around contentedly. Who’d have thought? I’m practically a
Marauder now.

As his eyes travelled across the gate to the meadow, he gave a start.
Perched upon the wooden frame were two figures, pale and indistinct in the
gathering darkness. He looked around, hurriedly; no one else seemed to have
noticed them, but there they were, ciders in hand, smiling warmly around at all
the revelry. Lily caught sight of him and nudged her
insufferable husband in the ribs. She grinned at Severus, and he felt his heart leap; Potter raised his tankard to him, in thanks, Severus realised. Silently, and not believing it for
a second, he raised his in return.

His line of sight was broken, just for a second, by Percy Weasley, looking for somewhere quiet to be violently sick, and when he looked
back the two of them had gone.

Gone, perhaps, but not
forgotten, he thought. With
some amusement he wondered just how much time they spent spying on their old
friends and enemies.

As he watched Sirius warmly congratulate his old friend and Hermione
finally drag Harry and Ron into the dancing, Dumbledore tapped Severus on the shoulder.

“You’re next you know, old chap,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“What on earth can you mean, Headmaster?” asked Severus, as drily as he could manage.

Dumbledore merely shrugged and nodded towards Bones, who was laughing at
something Sirius had just said to Remus. Eyes twinkling, he left Severus to splutter incoherently in the darkness at
the edge of the meadow.