Darkness and Light 03: If We Survive

Chapter Three: Profanation of our Joys

It was hard for Maud to think about eating, or indeed anything else, with Severus sitting only a foot away from her. Her mind was full of questions she didn't dare ask, not here, not now; yet she couldn't think of anything else to say to him, either. So she simply sat there, her face a little flushed and her eyes fixed on her plate.

Imogen took one look at Maud and launched gamely into a long, rambling, and apocryphal story about a cinematographers' party, while Snape listened with arms folded and a superior half-smile on his face. For a minute or so the three Muggle women at the next table regarded this tableau with interest; but then the waiter returned with their change, and they reluctantly filed out.

"And the caviar was horrid," said Imogen, "it tasted like little bits of rubber -- right, that's got rid of them." With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she whipped her wand out of her purse, pointed it at the just-vacated table, and said "Averso!" Then she turned to Snape and said with evident disgust, "Stephen Soames indeed. The next time I see Phemie I'm going to tell her exactly what I think of her warped sense of humour."

"She didn't tell you who to expect," said Severus. He sounded amused.

"No, she most certainly didn't. Oh, she gave me your Muggle alias, all right -- and I don't blame you for using it, as your own name isn't exactly inconspicuous -- but I hadn't the slightest idea that you were the 'special friend from Hogwarts' that Maud was going to be so happy to see." She gave Maud a reproachful look. "You might have told me."

"No," said Snape levelly, "she mightn't. If Euphemia didn't warn you already, I'm warning you now: no one else is to know about this. No one."

"Oh, surely it can't be that bad," said Imogen, who appeared to have got over her annoyance and was now thoroughly enjoying herself. "While Maud was at Hogwarts I could see it being a problem. But she's fully of age, and respectably employed. She's even got her Apparation licence --"

Maud's head snapped up. Apparation, she thought with a shock. That was it, the connection she should have made long ago. Before she joined the Department of Secrets and learned the trick of silent Apparation for herself, she had noticed only two other people do it: Imogen, and the young Death Eater-turned-spy who had saved her life as a child...

"You're not just spying for Dumbledore, you're with the Department," she said abruptly, turning to Snape. "You've been on their payroll for years. That's how Glossop knew about you and me. Either she was watching you and listening to the rumours so closely that she figured it out on her own, or you told her about us yourself." She gave a little, incredulous laugh. "No wonder she said I wasn't quite what she'd been expecting."

"Did she say that?" His mouth bent in a wry smile. "Yes, I suppose she would find you a pleasant surprise."

"Go on," prompted Imogen, watching the two of them with barely concealed glee.

"What?" said Snape, frowning at her.

"Oh, there's the scowl -- good old Professor, how I'd missed you. No, really, do go on. You're supposed to say, 'As did I.'"

"As did I what?" Now he sounded irritable. Maud could just imagine how much fun he'd had dealing with Imogen in class.

"Find Maud a pleasant surprise, of course. Honestly!" Imogen gave him an exasperated look. "It's called a compliment, Severus -- you don't mind if I call you Severus, do you? Not that it matters: I've been waiting to do it for years and I'll be hexed if I let you stop me now. The point is, you missed a perfectly good opportunity to say something nice to Maud, and I'm beginning to have serious doubts about you."

Maud pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to laugh. To distract herself, she watched the waiter as he led a party of two couples to the neighbouring table, only to have them shake their heads and motion him further on. Evidently, Imogen's Aversion Charm was doing its work.

"When either Maud or I decide that I need tutoring in the arts of courtship," Snape was saying to Imogen, with the extremely soft voice and precise enunciation that meant he was in danger of losing his temper, "I will know where to apply for advice. Until then, Miss Crump, may I suggest you mind your own bloody business?"

Imogen gave an incandescent grin and clapped her hands. "Oh, that's so sexy," she said. "Say it again."

Snape closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and pinched the bridge of his nose very hard, at which point Maud lost her self-control entirely and broke into helpless laughter.

"Excuse us," said Severus shortly, half-lifted Maud out of her chair, and pulled her after him, still hooting and wiping her eyes, through the restaurant and out into the darkened street.

The dim glow from the street-lamps gave them enough light to see each other, but not enough to be recognised from a distance; the noises of traffic, music and conversation would cover whatever they might choose to say. Maud sobered as the cool night air hit her, and looked up at Severus with mingled embarrassment and apology. He hated to be laughed at, she knew; and having his lover laugh at him in front of one of his former students would surely be a blow to his pride...

"The thing I have always found most galling about Imogen Crump," said Snape testily, "is that for a Hufflepuff with a name that sounds like a railway accident, she has an uncanny talent for speaking my mind."

Maud blinked. Was it her imagination, or had the corner of his mouth twitched?

"Though as it happens," he went on in a more conversational tone, "she underestimated my sentiments in this case." He took her arm, linking it through his. "It is not in my nature to be expansive, so I will only say this once: you are exquisitely lovely, maddeningly desirable, and altogether the best thing to happen to me in fifteen years. Walk with me."

"Excuse me," said Maud faintly, "I think I've just misplaced my brain. Am I likely to need it for the next few minutes?"

Severus gave a flicker of a smile, but now his eyes looked weary. "Unfortunately, yes. This is not a purely social visit, much as we both might wish otherwise."

"Oh," said Maud. Then, with some hesitation, "I assume this has to do with the reason you haven't written, called, or visited for two months?"

"Yes." He laid his hand over hers where it rested in the crook of his elbow, and continued in a lower voice, "A few days after you left Hogwarts I received an anonymous letter, informing me in pointed and rather vulgar terms that I was being watched -- and so were you. Under ordinary circumstances I might have dismissed it as the petty grudge of a disgruntled student. But when the letter acquired a razor edge and leaped for my throat, I realised that the writer was in deadly earnest."

Maud's mouth went dry. "Muriel?" she whispered.

"I came to the same conclusion, but not before acquiring a few painful lacerations and subjecting the letter to numerous magical and chemical tests." His jaw tightened. "I knew that Miss Groggins resented having been punished on our account, but I had not realised her hatred ran so deep."

"I did." Maud suppressed a shudder. "She told me she'd see me dead. She warned me to watch my back. But you?" She shook her head. "I don't know why she would blame you. Unless... unless somehow she found out the truth about you and me. And realised you'd allowed her to be punished and humiliated in front of the whole school for making 'false accusations' that were actually true."

"The tone of the letter did seem to indicate as much, yes." He paused. "She may have made contact with Dolores Umbridge, or whoever kept the Floo records during the time Hogwarts was under Ministry surveillance. Even at that it would be difficult to prove our guilt, but the fact that you and I once travelled together from Hagrid's hut to my bedchamber would be... suggestive."

"And if she sent you a Slasher, she's either studying Dark magic or spending time with someone who does..." Maud bit her lip. "You checked up on that side of things, of course."

"I can be reasonably confident that she hasn't joined the Death Eaters; nor has she made contact with any of the Dark Lord's more powerful allies. But it may just be a matter of time until she does. In which case, Maud, those bottles of love potion on my office shelf may be our only defence... and you know what that means."

She swallowed. It hurt. "You've come to say goodbye."

"I have worked out a method," Severus continued, clearing his throat and gazing ahead into the darkness, "that should allow us to exchange letters without risk of interception or discovery; and I will tell you the secret of it before we part. But as for meeting face to face, here or elsewhere..." He stopped and looked down at her, his eyes shadowed. "It may be a long time before we see each other again."

There would be no arguing with him, Maud knew. He would never take so radical a step unless he was convinced they had no other choice. It would have been different if her safety, and his, were all he had to think of; in that case, they could surely have accepted the risk, and worked something out. But she had long suspected that there was a burden on his shoulders, and a task before him, greater than anything he had yet admitted to her. And the weight of that responsibility was what came between them now.

Pulling her arm free of his, she took his hand, drawing him with her into the shadow of an arched doorway. Then she turned, slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest, holding him close. His muscles tensed, and she felt his breath catch; then his arms came around her fiercely, and he dropped his face against her hair.

"I swear," he murmured, "one day, I will make this up to you."

"Don't," she whispered. "Just stay alive. Stay safe. That's all I want."

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "You don't ask much, do you? I'm not nearly so noble, I'm afraid. When I look at you, I want a good deal more than that... do you have any idea how close you came to making me break my oath to your uncle, that last night at Hogwarts?"

She flushed. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I wasn't thinking clearly just then, only that I couldn't bear to leave you, and I would have given anything to put it off a little longer. But in retrospect, I knew what would have happened if you'd let me stay. I'm glad one of us has some sense."

"Not much," he said dryly. "I spent the next few minutes cursing myself for letting you go." His fingers traced the line of her bare shoulder, down to her elbow and back again, and she shivered, but not with cold. "However," he went on, "you are right. At best, it would have been short-sighted. At worst..."

"It would have been wrong." Then, as he remained silent, she added with a touch of anxiety, "Do you know what I mean?"

He gave her a faint smile, and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. "I know."

"No compromises. All or nothing."

His hands framed her face, making her look up at him. "Yes. If I am to have you, Maud, I want no doubt from you, no hesitation. I want you honestly, freely, and completely, in our own comfortable bed with no one interrupting, and I am perfectly willing to make us both wait, as long as it takes, until that is possible." His teeth gleamed in a sudden, vulpine smile. "See how selfish I am?"

Maud's heart skipped several beats, and then began pounding in her ears. "I wouldn't call it selfishness," she said very slowly, "but you chose an... unusual possessive pronoun just now. Or am I analysing you too much?"

"What do you think?" His tone was neutral, his face unreadable. Even the question could be interpreted several different ways. Maud searched his eyes with her own for a moment, looking for a hint of amusement, a glitter of trepidation, anything that would tell her what he was really thinking; but that steady, level gaze refused to yield up any secrets. At last she said, throwing caution to the wind and speaking with considerably more calm than she felt:

"Yes."

Snape's dark brows quirked. "Yes?"

"Yes, if we survive the next... well, however long it takes before the Enemy is defeated and we're free to get on with our lives... I will marry you."

His face went very still. In an odd, tight voice he said, "I had not actually intended to ask--"

"No, of course not," said Maud gently. "You just assumed. It's all right, I'm used to it. But it is customary to ask before you start talking about jointly owned furniture, you know."

Severus threw back his head and laughed, a sudden unguarded shout of a laugh that echoed against the stone archway and made several passing Muggles look around. "Caught," he gasped when he could speak. "Beguiled, trapped, and outwitted. And by a novice in the Department, no less. Euphemia Glossop would have me out on my ear if she knew. My only excuse is to plead that the sight of you in that slip of a Muggle dress addled my wits."

"Did it?" asked Maud, simultaneously disconcerted and pleased.

"And for that I have Imogen to thank, no doubt," said Severus. "If I were not disinclined to annoy Euphemia by picking quarrels with her chosen successor, I would say that I have a score to settle with that young woman. However..." he stepped back from Maud, his hands sliding down to catch hers so that he held her at arm's length, "I am finding it difficult to feel vindictive toward anyone just now, even the impertinent Miss Crump."

He paused, his face sobering. "Maud, if anyone should be aware by now that my faults are many and serious, it is you. Knowing all that, can you honestly say you have no reservations about marrying me?"

"In all honesty," said Maud, "I have more reservations about not marrying you. The thought of the havoc you might wreak, without my moderating influence --"

She got no further, because at that point Severus pulled her back into his arms with such force that he nearly knocked the breath out of her. Her lips parted on a rebuke, but a fraction of a second too late; his mouth claimed hers ruthlessly until she really couldn't breathe, and she had to step on his foot to make him let her go.

"You deserved that," he told her without the slightest hint of remorse, as she made a futile effort to straighten the wild disarray of her hair. "Don't deny it."

"I don't," she said, still breathless, "but my teeth hurt, and I am not sure that I want to try that again. Severus..."

He caught her change in tone, and was instantly sober. "I know. We have just made matters considerably more complicated between us. It would have been more prudent for you to ignore my..." He paused, in the manner of a man who has just prevented himself from saying something unfortunate, and went on more deliberately, "careless phrasing, and for me to restrain my curiosity about your response."

"If it's any consolation," said Maud, "it doesn't really change anything. I could tell how seriously you took our relationship when you asked my uncle's permission just to start it. So for me it wasn't a question of whether, only of when." She smiled. "Actually, I'm relieved to have the proposal part of things over with. I had tried to envision you down on one knee with a little box in your hand, and my imagination refused to accept it."

"As did mine, I assure you." He drew her back against him, more gently this time, and smoothed the hair back from her face. "Maud," he said, "promise me something."

"Anything."

Severus's brows shot up. "Have I told you that you trust me far too readily?"

"When you start abusing my trust," said Maud, "I may reconsider it. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to make a public reconciliation with your uncle." He held up a hand before she could object, and went on firmly, "If you and I are not seeing each other any more, and demonstrably so, then there is no longer any reason for you to stay away from him. And you will need him, Maud, believe me. If you are to bear this separation, you will need every friend you have."

"And what about you?" she asked softly.

"Oh, I will go on much the same as always -- bitter and miserable, and sneering unpleasantly at everyone." He gave a twitch of a smile. "But I can at least enjoy the private satisfaction of having you to look forward to. You might call it a lapse in my habitual cynicism, if not hope."

She reached up, taking his face between her hands. "I love you," she said.

He bowed his head, closed his eyes, and dropped his forehead against hers. They stood there a long moment in silence. Then he drew a breath, straightened, and said, "Well, since this is our last time together for who knows how long, we ought to make the most of it."

"Imogen--"

"Will have paid your bill and left the restaurant. She knew I was coming for you, Maud. She won't hold it against you."

"I'm cold." She rubbed her arms in a futile attempt to warm them. "I should have brought my jacket."

"Take mine." He slid it off and draped it around her shoulders. "I might as well put this uncharacteristically lurid shirt to its intended use."

"It is effective, I'll admit," said Maud admiringly. "Wearing that, you look so different that hardly anyone would guess who you are."

"I could say as much for you," said Severus. "Nevertheless, for safety's sake I suggest we keep to ourselves." He put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her back onto the sidewalk with him. "St. James's Park?"

She smiled up at him. "Very romantic."

Snape made a contemptuous noise, and she laughed. She slid her arm around his waist, leaned her head on his shoulder, and they walked off into the darkness together.

* * *

"So..." said Imogen, leaning forward conspiratorially over the table, "What happened last night? Or--" she grinned -- "is it too wild and wicked to tell?"

They were having breakfast at a little café around the corner from Maud's flat in Oxford. It was ten o'clock in the morning, but even so, Maud was nearly falling asleep in her tea.

She and Severus had walked for hours last night, conversing of many things: of Muriel, and how she might be dealt with; of the coming war against Voldemort, that now seemed closer than ever; of Snape's unofficial position as field operative for the Department of Secrets, and his peculiar friendship -- which sounded more like an armed truce, thought Maud -- with Euphemia Glossop. It was not like him to be talkative, and she could tell that even with her it was a strain: but she could guess why he might feel it necessary to fill the space between them with words, and she did not hinder him.

Toward the end, weary and hoarse, they stopped beneath a spreading oak and simply looked at each other. Then he bent his head and kissed her, for what they both knew might be the last time; and when he drew back his lips were parted, as though to speak the words he had never yet said. But in the end he had only given her a little, self-mocking smile that wrenched at her heart, took a step back, and Disapparated.

Maud looked blearily at Imogen and said, "Wild and wicked?"

"Well, we are talking about him, after all. Anyone that cold-blooded and vicious on the surface has to be madly passionate inside; it's the Heathcliff Principle."

"I hate to disappoint you," said Maud, who did not think it politic to mention that she had stopped halfway through Imogen's well-loved copy of Wuthering Heights, having barely restrained herself from flinging the book across the room, "but all we did was talk. Until about 3 a.m., granted, but..."

Imogen slumped back into her seat. "You're no fun at all," she mourned.

Maud gave her a thoughtful look. If Severus was right, then Imogen was more than just another Department liaison, she was Euphemia Glossop's own protégé. In any case, the events of last night proved that both Glossop and Severus trusted her absolutely. Maud liked Imogen, and valued her friendship; but did she really dare to tell her the whole truth?

If you are to bear this separation, said Snape's voice with quiet authority in her mind, you will need every friend you have...

Maud took a deep breath. "Imogen."

The other witch's head came up, her eyes questioning.

"I have something to tell you," said Maud, "but I need you to keep a straight face and not make a scene about it."

"Can't do it," said Imogen promptly. "At least, not if it has anything to do with last night. Let's go back to your flat, and then I can whoop and shriek and flap my arms to my heart's content." She pushed her plate away, slapped a handful of coins down on the table, and hopped off the chair. "Right, we're off."

Half a block and three flights of stairs later, they walked into Maud's flat. With her usual brisk competence, Imogen locked the door, cast a Listener-Detecting Charm and a Privacy Charm in rapid succession, then flopped down on the sofa and said, "We're clear. Out with it."

"Professor Snape and I are engaged," said Maud.

Imogen stared at her with her mouth open for several seconds. Then she said faintly, "Did I really just hear the words 'Snape' and 'engaged' in the same sentence?"

"Yes."

"He actually asked you? And you said yes?"

"He did, and I did."

"But... you can't." She waved her hands in a vague, distressed gesture. "It's not possible."

Maud's mouth formed a hard line. "Look, I know you don't think much of Severus, and given that you've only seen the worst of him, I don't blame you. But--"

"Oh, no, it's not that," Imogen protested. "I mean, I wouldn't say he's my type, but he cleans up well enough, and now that I know he's in the Department I've no difficulty believing there must be a lot more to him than he ever let on at school. What I mean is, it makes no sense for the two of you to get engaged just now -- you can't possibly get married until You-Know-Who is defeated."

Now it was Maud's turn to stare.

"Well," said Imogen, answering the unspoken question, "it makes sense, doesn't it? If he's pretending to be on the Enemy's side -- which explains a lot, now that I think of it -- he's got to keep his liabilities to a minimum. It would have been fairly easy to keep your relationship quiet while you were both at Hogwarts, but now..."

Maud dropped her face into her hands, and spoke hollowly between her fingers: "You're right, of course. But it's even worse than not being able to get married. Until all this is over, we can't even see each other."

Imogen sucked in her breath. "It is the sensible thing to do," she said. "But-- oh dear." She sat in silence for a moment; then she said, in a soft, serious voice that was very unlike her, "I'm so sorry, Maud. Is there anything I can do?"

"Defeat Voldemort," said Maud, with a shaky laugh.

"Oh, well, if that's all..." Imogen bounced to her feet. "Right, then, see you in half an hour."

In spite of the aching numbness in her chest, Maud had to smile. Imogen grinned back, then threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Everything's going to be fine," she said. "I mean, if I'm going to come and cry buckets at your wedding there has to be a wedding, right? Here, have my handkerchief. Oh, wait, not that one, sorry, the clean one's in the other sleeve... there. Now. Sit down, and I'll make you a cup of tea."

In her own way, reflected Maud as she sank gratefully into the armchair and watched the other woman bustling off into the kitchen, Imogen was as formidable as Glossop. In fact, she couldn't help thinking that it was a good thing that they were on the same side -- because if Voldemort had someone like Imogen to rally him, comfort him, and advise him, he'd probably conquer the world.

* * *

There must have been at least ten different locks on Mad-Eye Moody's front door, not counting the magical ones and the ones Maud couldn't see. She rapped tentatively, stepped back a pace, and waited.

It had only been a few months since she had been here, and yet even in that time the neighbourhood had changed. Wizards and Muggles alike no longer greeted each other in the street, but shuffled by with wary, sidelong glances. Windows were barred, curtains drawn, and gates bore heavy chains. Maud almost had to wonder if her uncle had hexed all his neighbours into sharing his legendary paranoia -- she wouldn't put it past him, especially if he thought it was for their own good.

With a series of loud snaps and rattles, the door unlocked, and Maud looked up into her uncle's blunt, scarred face. His good eye widened; then he gave a fearsome scowl and rasped, "What d'you want?"

"I..." It wasn't hard to feign her apprehension; it had been months since they had talked, and she had no idea how he might take the news she was about to give him. "I came to say I'm sorry."

"Hmph." He looked sceptical. "This had best not be a trick, girl, or you will be sorry."

Maud doubted anyone was even watching, let alone listening, to be impressed by this charade. Still, there was no good reason to give it up quite yet. "No," she said, letting her voice quaver a little. "No, really, it's not a trick. Please, can I just come in for a few minutes?"

"A few minutes." He snorted. "More than you deserve, but--" He stumped off down the hallway toward the parlour, and after a moment's hesitation, Maud followed him in.

She had grown up in this house, knew every inch of it blind. It was here, among the Foe-Glasses, Sneakoscopes and other Dark magic-detecting bric-a-brac, that she had learned the lessons that would define her life: to watch for evil and guard against it; to stand her ground without hesitation or compromise; to love what was good with all her heart and all her mind and all her strength. Once a week, in defiance of the restrictions against underage wizardry, her uncle had put her mother's wand in her hand and made her battle him up and down these stairs, down that corridor and back again, barking instructions at her in his rough voice, while Maud giggled and Athena hooted excitedly on her shoulder.

Alastor Moody had never coddled his young ward, but he had never been cruel to her, either. And although she could not recall him ever saying that he loved her, she had no doubt that it was true. Strange as it might seem to others -- most of whom knew her uncle only as an ugly, suspicious old man who had spent his life hunting down Dark wizards and didn't seem to know when to quit -- Maud had been happy in this house, and no matter where she went or what she did, part of her would always call it home.

She followed the shuffle-clump sound of her uncle's peg-legged walk down the corridor and into the parlour. The heavy curtains were drawn, and the room was stuffy in the late August heat, but she knew better than to ask him to open the window. Alastor Moody's house was a prime target for a Death Eater attack, and his obsession with privacy was one of the few things that had kept him alive.

Carefully Maud turned and shut the door behind her. Then she looked back at her uncle, a massive hunched figure standing half-shadowed by the fireplace, and smiled. "I've missed you so much," she said.

He did not move, did not return her smile. Instead, he snapped out, "What was your mother's name?"

Maud raised her eyebrows a little. "Margaret, of course. Though everyone called her Margo."

"Why'd you go to Durmstrang?"

"To spy on Karkaroff, because I couldn't become an Auror and I needed to do something useful."

"What d'you think of that slimy weasel Snape?"

"Well," said Maud thoughtfully, "as of last night, he's my fiancé."

"What?" Moody's magical eye nearly popped out of its socket. "Then what in the name of Cerberus are you doing here?"

Apparently, she'd passed muster. Maud pulled up a chair and sat down. "Because as far as everyone else is concerned, there is nothing between the two of us, and never was. If Voldemort ever hears otherwise, Severus is going to grit his teeth and admit, with the utmost reluctance, that he dosed me with love potion for the last few months of school, and then hit me with a Memory Charm as I was leaving. And there will be no proof that there was anything more than that between us, because--" she took a deep breath-- "we're not going to see each other until all this is over."

Moody dropped heavily into the armchair beside her and stuck his wooden leg up on the ottoman. "You took a risk telling me all that, lass. I know you're the real thing, now; but how do you know I'm really your uncle?"

Maud shook her head in disbelief. "Do you think I can't tell the difference, after all these years? Dumbledore might not see you often enough to know the real you from an impostor, but no Death Eater in disguise could ever hope to fool me. The way you swivel your left hip when you walk, the tic in your good eye that only shows up when you're fighting the temptation to smile... don't worry, Uncle. I haven't forgotten what you taught me."

"There's my Maudie." He grinned at her. "I've missed you, too."

"So... am I forgiven?"

"That depends on what you want forgiving for. If all you want is to put our mock differences aside and be seen as family again, I've no objection. But..." His eyes narrowed. "When it comes to this business of marrying Snape..."

"I'm too young, I'm too trusting, I surely don't know him well enough yet, there are plenty of nice young men in the world so what do I want with the likes of him, do I think I'm going to live at Hogwarts and what makes me think he's got anything better to offer me..." She paused from ticking off arguments on her fingers, and looked up at him. "Have I missed anything?"

"Yes, you have." His face was grave, the lines around his mouth carved deep. "What's it going to do to you, Maudie, when he gets himself killed?"

A chill knot tied itself in her stomach. "Not when," she said in a tight voice. "If. And that's a very big if, Uncle. Severus knows what he's doing; he's spied against Voldemort before and he can do it again--"

"It's not just Voldemort. The troops are gathering on both sides; you've seen that. And if it comes to war, your Snape is just as likely to get brought down by our side as the enemy's. For every cowardly fool like Fudge, pretending not to see the tree until it falls on him, there's another fierce old veteran like me, itching to fight and determined to pull no punches. All it takes is one of those to show up at some Death Eater raid--"

"Stop it." Her knuckles were white. "Any one of us could be killed, if it comes to that. Me. You. Dumbledore, even. I'm not going to stop living, stop caring, because I'm afraid of losing the people I love."

"Nor should you, girl." In spite of the gruffness, his voice was almost gentle. "But you'd best not ignore those fears, either. You've given your heart to a marked man -- best be prepared to face the worst. Practice living without him, thinking without him; the same way you used to practice finding your way without Athena, and for the same reason. Because if you don't, then whatever hits him will also cripple you."

Maud let her breath out. "You know that's the last thing I want to think about right now."

"I know." He gave her a twitch of a smile. "That's why I said it. Snape would tell you the same, if he were here: you know that."

She nodded reluctantly. "He told me I would need you. And he was right."

"Ah, Maudie." He shook his head. "You never do take the easy road, do you? Are you sure you don't just want some nice boy your own age, who'll work an honest job and keep his head down and bring you flowers on your anniversary?"

"Well... I could marry George Weasley, I suppose. Only the flowers would probably squirt Ogden's Old Firewhisky and sing bawdy songs for the next week." She gave a faint smile. "I can live without flowers, Uncle. I don't even want them, really."

"Just as well, I suppose." He heaved a grating sigh. "You'd only stick them in a cauldron and make some ghastly concoction out of them anyway."

Maud laughed, and dropped a kiss on his weathered cheek. "Dear old Uncle Alastor," she said. "I could wish it were under better circumstances, but... it's good to be home."