Smiles That Shine Through Tears

Chapter Two

Coming to terms with the way things are

Dylan turned to wave as his mother led him away, the baby's grinning face visible over her shoulder. Hermione had come to meet me at the nursery. We planned to walk into town together before the shops shut. She had research to do in the library and I wanted to look at computers and enrol with the Open University. We both miss Ginny, I haven't seen her since that night nearly a month ago, and I suspect that Hermione's 'research' is to help her, and our other friends..

"Thank goodness they're gone - till tomorrow!" Mrs Knight picked up her baby, turning to Hermione and myself. "Now about this spring social, we're thinking of setting up a blind date. You'll come, won't you? You need a man."

I looked at Hermione, silently begging her to say or do something to get me out of this fix. She just smiled and shook her head.

"I'd love to, but I'm really very busy at nights. Studying," I lied.

"You can take a break from that. You need some fun."

"No, really, this is important. I'm behind with my assignments."

"Don't be silly, of course you're coming. It's time you had a man around, keep you in order."

Hermione is being no help at all.

"Let's see, who do we know that's available?"

"She doesn't like tall, blond men," said Louise.

Her words hit me like a knife. Does she know? Had I been indiscreet about something?

"That's not true."

"Isn't it? Is it just Johann you don't like? Every time he walks in you leave."

"That's not intentional."

"You're not helping Jane. What would you look for in a guy?" Mrs Knight was playing with the baby as she talked, lifting her up and down to make her laugh.

"Johann's really cute. And he's available."

And he's a conceited stuck up git who looks just like the one and only. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend. Too distracting. I've better things to do with my time," I insisted, sneaking a sly look at Hermione.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Wha-? That's a bit below the belt!"

"Just wondered. I mean, you've been here a couple of years and never had a boyfriend. I thought I was really old when I lost mine, I was eighteen. How old were you, Louise?"

"Seventeen - and the guy was a total prick. Dumping him was the best thing I did."

My hands were shaking as I grabbed my bag and left, avoiding any further awkward questions. Mrs Knight and Louise continued talking, apparently unconcerned that the original subject of conversation was walking away, Hermione by her side. I don't know how I ever got through the next couple of hours. My mind certainly wasn't on computers.

At home finally, I went straight to the bedroom and looked out at the sky. It's nearly spring and the evenings are quite light. I didn't realise Hermione had followed me into the room until she spoke.

"Jane, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied, trying to sound really surprised at her question.

"Then why were you crying. Mrs Knight might not have noticed, but I know you were upset."

"I just..." My hands were shaking again. I tucked them under my thighs, sitting on them so that she wouldn't see. "I've got a headache, that's all."

She doesn't believe me. I can see it in the way she furrows her brow, the way she looks at me. I bite my lips and look straight back at her, willing myself not to cry, not yet.

"Do you need a painkiller? Or a lemon drink, if it's flu?" I shook my head.

"I think I'll go to sleep. It'll be gone by morning." She turns and walks out. I listen for the sound of her office door closing, her computer whirring as she switches it on.

The world is crashing. I don't want to remember. I pull my knees up, the tears flowing, soaking the pillow as if they would never stop. I don't want to remember.

That feeling of black, dark hatred. It comes from my heart, encompasses me round about. I hear his slimy tones. I can't fight the hatred, never could. It's been, what, seven years? Seven years since he took me - the bastard. Seven years of pain, of guilt because I could have stopped him. If I'd hit him harder, if I'd screamed, if I'd just been more forceful. And then it became hatred, the blackness. He didn't want to understand that he was doing wrong. That didn't make it right. No-one, no-one has the right to take a girl against her will.

I remember the pain, the discomfort that lasted for days, the bruises that ringed my arms and were carefully hidden. I don't want to remember, but I do.

I turn over and bury my face in the pillow. Try not to think. It is dark.

* * * *

"No!" I sit up gasping, terrified. It is Hermione, arms outstretched, the touch on my shoulder that I thought... I thought...

"There Jane, it's just me. You don't want to eat then?" I can't stop shaking, my tears now soaking her T-shirt as we sit together. I can't face the food that she has brought.

"Jane, you've got to talk some time. I know you're not ill." Eventually she leaves. The tears have stopped - for the moment. I try to think of other things, knowing that shortly sleep will bring oblivion.

* * * *

Mornings always feel better. Today I don't have to face Mrs Knight and Louise and SuEllen - not till the afternoon at any rate. I showered and picked things up and tried to forget. Hermione's voice was audible from the living room, she obviously had company again. Eventually I splash cold water on my face and dry it thoroughly before walking through to face the morning.

"Jane, Hermione said you were ill?"

"I'm alright. It was just a headache." I smile; it is good to see Severus. Sometimes I think we have things in common, things that Hermione couldn't understand. He is easy to talk to - reticent, yes, but then so am I.

* * * *

"Jane, could you see to..." Louise turned her head back to indicate the little boy sitting on the floor, his face screwed up. She had her hands full with Dylan, who was trying to squirm away as she led him to the 'time-out' corner.

I knelt on the floor beside Martin. He wasn't crying, but his face was red and he was rubbing his eyes with his fists so hard that they were rapidly turning purple. "Come on Martin. I'll read you a story. A special story." I feel a pain in my heart as I take his hand and lead him to the library corner. Martin is normally a cheerful kid, but we all know that his parents are separated and he is passed from one to the other like a bouncy ball. Two days with Dad, three with Mum and all the arguments passing over his head, it's enough to upset any kid. I wish all the children could have good homes. I don't mean perfect, there's no such thing. But being in this job, watching the little ones change as their emotions are tugged and destroyed by every harsh word or thoughtless action, I wonder sometimes how long I would last without a certain level of detachment.

I settle back on the cushions and let Martin lay his head on my lap. The individual attention has calmed him already. There are many books designed to help children deal with growing-up, but not in our library. The powers-that-be say we don't need them, we are to fill their heads with monsters and magic and talking animals instead. I'm going to have to make this story up.

"Once upon a time there was a little boy. He was four years old. He'd always wanted a sister or a brother, but instead he had a puppy dog. The puppy dog was all black, and he was called Blackie."

I answered half a dozen questions about Blackie, which gave me time to think of a name for the story-child.

"The little boy's name was Craig. Craig loved his Mum, and he loved his Dad, and he loved Blackie. You would have thought they would all live together happily, but they couldn't. You see, Mum had some funny habits that Dad didn't like, and Dad had some funny habits that Mum didn't like. But Craig and Blackie got on just fine.

'Dad loved Craig, and he said, "This is my boy."

'Mum loved Craig, and she said, "This is my boy."

'Dad bought Craig an icecream.

'Mum bought Craig a chocolate bar.

'Dad bought Craig a magic bean.

'Mum bought Craig a racing car.

'Dad bought Craig a house in Spain.

'Mum bought Craig a big tall crane.

'And Craig said, "No."

'Craig put Blackie's nice collar on, and he put his nice silver lead on the collar and he stood at the door and said, "No."

'"I don't need a house, or a big tall crane. I don't need chocolate bars or racing cars. I'd rather have a Mum and a Dad." And he walked away.

'He walked and he walked and he walked. Blackie walked too. And Mum and Dad walked and walked and walked till they found him.

'Dad said, "I want you to stay with me always."

'Mum said, "I want you to stay with me always."

'Because they both loved Craig too much.

'So Craig said, "I'll stay with you both."

'And that's how it happened. Mum's habits still annoyed Dad and Dad's habits still annoyed Mum, but they both loved Craig and Craig loved them both. So they lived in different houses and took turns. And when Craig was with Mum he took Blackie with his nice collar and silver lead, and when he was with Dad he took Blackie with his nice collar and silver lead. So even when Mum and Dad were talking to each other he always had some-one to talk to. And Blackie never, ever said, "No.""

Martin had forgotten about rubbing his eyes now. Dylan was sitting on my other side and I asked Louise to hand me a book, so that I could read them another story. One with pictures this time. Mrs Knight and SuEllen were helping the children hammer little pins into a block and decorate them with leaves and grass.

* * * *

"She's got red hair."

Hermione greeted me with this peculiar announcement as soon as I walked in the door. It was Friday 3 March.

"Finally! How is Luna?" I'd never met Luna. Ron married her just before Hermione and I moved in together. We didn't see him for nearly six months, then he started coming with Harry to visit us again.

"As far as I could tell, fine. Ron is completely overwhelmed, I couldn't get much sense out of him. My Dad's going to be here soon, do you want to come? We'll stay overnight."

"Do they live so far away? Sure. I can't wait to see Ron's baby." I rushed to pack a little bag before doing anything else. I'd heard so much about Luna. True, sometimes people raised their eyebrows and shrugged when her name was mentioned, but usually her name was spoken with such fondness that I had wondered whatever she could be like. For people to love her so much, she must be something special.

* * * *

The car headed south, into the night. It had long gone dusk, and I had stopped wondering how come Ron visited us so often when he lived several hours drive away. I figured he must have two houses, or that Luna was staying with his parents. Hermione chatted to her Dad, philosophical arguments on the nature of life, the universe and everything. Hermione loves trying to wrap her brain round big subjects. Me, I've been around kids too long to understand half of what she's talking about. I know 'dinosaurs', 'tractors', 'astronauts' but phrases like 'micalike, colloidal particles of kaolinite' or 'phoneme units of morphemes" are way beyond me. Crookshanks lay by the door, his yellow eyes flickering each time Hermione spoke. I tuned out and watched the stars beginning to appear.

Eventually the car stopped outside a little house. Ron rushed to meet us, relief evident in his face. The worried look he'd been wearing for the last few weeks had completely vanished, as he kissed Hermione on the cheek and picked up our bags. A little owl swooped in the door ahead of us.

Ron and Luna were certainly keen on wildlife. Every inch of space in their kitchen had an aquarium, or a small cage sitting on it. Some were empty, but I saw a couple of reptiles and a strange spiny fish. The nursery kids would have loved to see them. Dylan is fond of animals, any animal including snakes and rats. And I could just imagine his face when he saw the clock over the door with the 'home', 'travelling' and 'mortal peril' labels instead of numbers. One of the hands was named "female Weasley." The baby obviously wasn't named yet, I presumed Ron would write up her name when it was decided.

Luna greeted us in their well-lit bedroom. She was supported by several pillows and the baby lay beside her on the bed, a shock of red hair showing over fine, almost transparent skin. I watched the little eyes open and close, a small hand waving randomly, and leaned over to hug Luna. She smiled so serenely that it was hard to believe she'd given birth that morning. Her hair was cut in a short, blonde bob that suited her, setting off her heart-shaped face and grey eyes. Ron gazed at them both with an expression of absolute awe and adoration that just didn't look like Ron.

"How are you Luna? You must be glad it's over," said Hermione. Her father was downstairs with Crookshanks, he said Hermione and her sister had been enough babies to last him a lifetime.

"My mother was always late," said Luna. I presumed that was a reference to the extra two weeks she'd carried the child for.

"Have you decided what to call her yet?" Hermione sat on the bed next to Luna.

"May I?" I asked. The baby was awake and waving her arms. Luna nodded and I picked the child up and sat down with her.

"Rene-Armata."

"Really?"

She was tiny. I couldn't believe that in three short years she would be the same age as my little nursery children. In five she would be starting school, something like ten times the weight she is now.

"It would be fitting. Ron won't have it."

There was a passing resemblance to Ron in her features, although it is really too early to tell at this age. I got the impression that she would take after her mother more, with fair skin and a placid, easygoing nature.

Hermione grimaced. "What does Ron want to call her?"

"Boadicea."

"Now that's much nicer."

"Thanks Hermione, I think so too," grinned Ron.

"I think Rene-Armata is a lovely name," I said. It was one of those words that slipped off the tongue like a bell ringing sweetly. She'd almost certainly be called Rene for short - and that was still pretty.

The baby started crying and I handed her back to her mother. She stopped crying instantly. Luna fed her, using a pretty paisley shawl to cover her and the baby as she did so.

* * * *

"Look." I nudged Hermione when we went back downstairs. "Ron must have written it up earlier." The short hand of the clock now read 'Rene-Armata Vondrick Weasley'. Hermione looked puzzled.

"Ron's going to be furious. It isn't possible to write on those clocks." She tucked her fire-lighter away in a pocket - I'd noticed she nearly always carried it, and walked over to the drawers that had slid open of their own accord as we walked into the kitchen. "See if you can find something in the fridge, Jane. Ron's not much of a cook."

I found enough vegetables and potatoes to fill a black, steamer pot that hung over the fire - Ron's house didn't appear to have electricity - and was throwing together some pan bread when Ron walked in.

"This smells good. How come you're setting the table without ma..."

"Ron! Go and sit down and leave us in charge here," Hermione snapped. He did so, craning his head to see what I was doing with the flour and milk. Hermione's father lowered his paper and gave him a meaningful look.

"Shall I take a plate up to Luna?" I asked, when we'd finished eating and Hermione was piling the dishes in the sink. Ron looked gratefully at me, which I took for assent. I buttered some thick slices of bread to add to her plate, balancing a jug and cup of water against my left arm as I went upstairs.

"Thankyou," said Luna, smiling. I couldn't believe she'd been left without even a drink of water for so long. Sometimes you just can't trust guys to think of things. I could hear him shouting now, his voice coming up through the floorboards.

"...must think she's absolutely stupid, Hermione."

"Ron, she doesn't know. Don't spoil it."

"How is she supposed to not notice? I mean, she's probably never even heard of a crumple-horned snorkack before, what's she supposed to think of the one swimming in a tank in this very room?"

"Just why do you think shrinking keys are such an effective muggle-baiting tool. There's always things like that around muggles. They don't want to know so they don't see it."

Luna raised her eyebrows at me, smiling. She tapped on the floor with a walking stick that leaned against the bed, and the voices suddenly stopped. "We can hear every word, Ron," she said without raising her voice. A chair scraped across the floor downstairs, followed by a low murmur of voices.

"Would you like to hold Rene-Armata? She's nearly sleeping."

"I'd love to," I said, taking the baby from her. "How did you convince Ron about the name?"

"I didn't convince him, it's meant to be. When the tides of fate roll, a Weasley can't turn them." I nodded. Her statement didn't make much sense, but it sounded much more convincing than Hermione's discussion on the way here of Edophology, whatever that is. I suspected it was nearly midnight now. I felt as if I'd known Luna for years, not just a couple of hours. She talked softly, so as not to wake Rene-Armata.

* * * *

Just after breakfast a plump woman who could only be Ron's mother dashed in and directly upstairs. When she came down half an hour later she was beaming, her face glowing with pleasure.

"Rene-Armata. It's a perfect name. After all these years Ron, you've made me really proud." Ron scowled as she hugged him.

"Jane, I'm glad I've finally met you." She pulled me and Hermione towards her in a bear hug (lucky Hermione and I don't mind being close!) She wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm so happy. After all these years, I'd almost given up on grandchildren from Ron."

"Mum, I'm only just twenty-six. That's not old." He escaped back upstairs.

"How are things, Mrs Weasley?"

Mrs Weasley looked sidelong at me before answering. "We've heard nothing from Ginny. The Order have come to the conclusion that she must be in the Manor, they can't understand how else they could have completely lost track. The surveillance is finding things quiet - too quiet. Moody is insisting that it's the calm before the storm, and I believe he's right. We suspect that Malfoy is nearly ready to make a move. Nott and Zabini - senior, I mean - have left the country and that in itself is suspicious."

She sat down and picked up an empty cup from the centre of the table, stirring the non-existent contents with a firelighter like Hermione's. I stared - the cup was filling on its own - but just then Hermione's father moved between us, blocking my view and I decided it must have been already full when she picked it up.

"I would have been here yesterday, of course. Poor Luna, Ron can't be expected to know what to do. I waited for Snape's report, because I knew he was hoping to get in contact with Ginny. As soon as I knew there was no news I came straight here."

Shortly before lunch-time we left. Ron's mother had been through the house like a whirlwind, cleaning and cooking with a verve I couldn't hope to match - and I'd thought I was homely. I was sorry to say good-bye to Luna, and her little one. Rene-Armata had restored the faith in youth that hour after hour of noisy, boisterous three and four year olds tended to somewhat dispel. I settled back into the back seat of the car with Crookshanks to enjoy the long ride home, without listening to Hermione and her father's talk of cerebral hemispheres and hypothalami.

* * * *

The following day saw a visitor who could probably have held his own in conversation with Hermione, had she been there. Severus Snape looked rather disappointed when I told him that Hermione was out, but took a chair next to the fire when I invited him to. "She'll only be five minutes," I assured him. "Would you like some coffee - so as not to waste a journey - I mean..." I fumbled with the coffee, dropping the jar. I was glad he couldn't see me being a klutz in the kitchen. His silent brooding was a little off-putting.

"You're not too hot in that cloak, are you? Please - feel free to take it off, I'm sure Hermione won't be more than five minutes." I search for words, a safe topic that would encourage him to say something.

"You taught Hermione at school, didn't you? What subject do you teach?"

He paused, considering. "Chemistry."

"Oh, that must be so interesting. I bet Hermione was top of the class. I was such a dunce at school. I liked making crystals though - you know when you mix baking soda and vinegar and evaporate it. I think we did it with copper once and the crystals were blue..." I pause, aware that I'm babbling. Snape didn't seem to notice.

"That is most interesting? What did you use the crystals for?"

"Oh, we didn't use them for anything, we just made them. I mean, they're very pretty, but what would you use them for?"

"Very pretty?" He put his hand under his cloak - he hadn't taken it off - and found a pocket somewhere, because when he withdrew it he handed me a scarlet crystal the size of a marble.

I hold it up to the light, watching the light strike and bounce off its facets - it looks like a flower, a sharp, blood red flower.

"That is so beautiful. What is it?"

"Armata-Rae. Keep it if you like, I can make another. Hermione will tell you what it is used for."

"You made it?"

"It's a simple combination of ingredients but a very delicate process. Did you say Hermione is returning soon?"

"Five minutes," I lied, knowing perfectly well she's gone shopping and will be at least another twenty.

"I really can't wait. Tell her to get in touch with me." He set his half-empty cup on the table and left, sliding the door gently shut. I blinked at the wrong moment, losing sight of him before he even reached the street.

I turned the crystal over. It's like nothing I've ever seen before, warm in my hand with a deep, black centre. Unwilling to lay it down, I slip it into the only pocket I happened to be wearing that day and picked up the mug for washing. The warmth of the little stone stayed with me, snug against my chest until Hermione came home and I took it out to show her.

* * * *

"That's Armata-Rae, surely? It's really hard to make. Severus Snape gave you this?"

"Yes. It's pretty. I've never seen anything like it."

"I'm sure you haven't. Armata means protection. Armata-Rae, well, that's really quite special." She handed it back to me. "You need to keep it with you. Have you got some of that pretty cord you were knotting last week, pockets aren't safe enough for this."

"Yes." I reached for the intricately plaited cord that lay tangled on top of my work-basket. "Is it like a talisman, or something."

"You could say that. I'm going to get some cloth, it might feel funny wearing it at first, but you'll get used to it." She brought back a small circle of shimmering grey cloth, as fine as tissue paper and threaded it with the cord into a sort of amulet. "You don't mind if I use the fire lighter? This is special material, a small spark causes a chemical reaction that will strengthen it." She tapped the amulet with the fire lighter several times, then helped me put it on and drop the crystal inside.

"I'll show you mine." She undid the small locket she'd been wearing for the last few weeks and tipped out a tiny blue stone. It was deep blue in the centre, pure cerulean where the facets caught the light. "This is Armata. We've all got one, every-one in the Order. I don't know why Severus has given you Armata-Rae. It's a very strong protection charm, much stronger than this little baby." She put the stone back in the locket and closed it.

* * * *

Quiet evenings just don't seem to happen any more. For once we have been together, and alone, since I got home for the nursery. After dinner Hermione lies by the fire reading. I put a CD on and flop down beside her, thinking of our plans to go out this weekend. It is already late, late enough to think of retiring and I am barely recovered from the noise of the nursery. The first notes of Marcello's concerto for oboe in D minor fill the air soothingly.

"I'm so-o tired. How are you, Sweets." Hermione turned to face me, stroking my hair gently. I lean in close, my arm draped across her waist, her body moulding perfectly to mine. On impulse I kiss her lips. It seems like forever since we've been this close. She responds eagerly and I watch her eyelids drop and flutter as I run my hand along her spine, under the light fabric of her t-shirt. The firelight flickers on her face, picking out the curve of her cheek in glowing red.

"Miss Granger."

I sat up hurriedly. Hermione smoothed down her t-shirt and looked dazedly up. How the hell did he get here?

"Yes, Severus?" Her eyelids are still fluttering as she tries to compose herself. Severus had a very odd expression on his face - but it wasn't Hermione he was looking at, it was me. I excused myself and hid in the kitchen, under the pretence of making coffee.

"You are to come directly. Dumbledore is determined to put the Order in danger, he's asked me to use the timeturner. Two hours should be enough to forestall them."

"Hermione?" I called, about to ask where she was going.

"Jane, I'll be fifteen minutes, I'm just going to shower." Her voice had a sharp, panicky edge to it I hadn't heard before. I went to talk to her, totally unprepared for the sight that greeted me in the living room.

Hermione and Severus were standing together on the rug, Severus holding her elbows as if to stop her falling over. His arm was streaked with blood, as was her head and her clothes were muddy and torn. Her firelighter was threaded through the belt of her jeans.

"Hermione, what happened? Are you alright?" She smiled, swaying but happy.

"I'm fine, Jane, just a bit dizzy. I'm going to go and have a shower now."

"I'll help you, come on." I took her arm, turning back to Severus. "The kettle's boiled, you'll find coffee in the cupboard above it. I'll dress that arm as soon as I get back."

"What happened?" I asked again in the steaming bathroom. Hermione winced as I cleaned the cut on her forehead.

"We used a time turner. Malfoy set his plan in motion - and moved fast. We went back and stopped him."

"You - what? Hermione, you didn't even leave the house. And how did Severus get here?"

"I fell down the steps and knocked my head," she snapped. "It's pretty muddy outside, and you will move my pot plants. I've told you to leave them alone."

She was clearly concussed. I apologised about the pot plants and went to fetch some clean clothes. Leaving her to dress in the rose scented bathroom, I returned to Severus.

He was sitting in an armchair, dully inspecting his arm and fingering a firelighter - I was beginning to think they were an in-joke between Hermione and her friends. She probably starts her fires by magic and just pretends that it's that bit of wood. I'd brought the first-aid box from the bathroom, and asked him to hold his arm out. He looked tired, and his face was streaked with mud.

"It's not much more than skin deep," I said, dabbing antiseptic on the cuts. "Those rose bushes can be vicious. I'll wrap it anyway, so that it'll heal faster." Within a few minutes his lower arm was swathed neatly in a roll of bandage. "Why didn't you turn the light on when you went outside, anyway?" I asked. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, clearly annoyed at having forgotten something so obvious.

Hermione came in and sat in the other armchair as I returned to the kitchen to finish making the abandoned coffee. A bird chirped loudly as I filled the cups, and when I returned and handed them each a steaming mug Severus was holding a magpie tightly in his uninjured arm. Hermione sat reading a scrap of old, woven paper.

"Shouldn't you put it down, if it's injured," I said, looking at the squawking bird. "They're horrible creatures, magpies. I don't want one in the garden."

Hermione nodded. "It's alright, I'm not going to keep it. Thanks for the coffee." She took a biscuit from the tray I held out. Severus was sitting bolt upright, staring at the ceiling. "He doesn't drink coffee very often," she giggled when she noticed him. "It's quite a strong drug if you don't use it all the time." She held the page loosely in her hand so that I was able to see it. It was written in a neat, flowing script.

'It is time. Let the birds go.

Lucius.'

"What's that about?" I asked, pointing. She looked startled, turning the page over to its blank side. The magpie cawed harshly.

"That - would have been the beginning of the troubles. Lucius Malfoy uses birds for messengers - like carrier pigeons. That is one of them," she nodded towards the bird. "If we hadn't intercepted it there would be hundreds like him in the air right now. By tomorrow morning Lucius would have his armies. As it is..." She smiled. "We're still trying to find out where this storm petrel was headed. Lucius is probably sitting confidently, waiting."

"In a few hours, of course, he will have realised," said Severus.

"That's why you need to know where it was going?" I asked. "Someone has to release all the other messengers."

"Something like that," he agreed. 'We are lucky that Lucius is not running the operation from the manor. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, naturally."

"So why did he sign it?" asked Hermione, handing the message back to Severus.

"Oversight, I suspect. He had no reason to suppose that the message would be intercepted before reaching its rightful recipient."

"Who is...?" Hermione mused, tapping her fingers together. "Could it be Draco?"

"It's possible, but I doubt it."

"We're going to have to fall back on plan B. I wish it wasn't so late." She sighed, touching her head as if it hurt. "Do you have any tracking potion with you?"

"In my store cupboard, not here. I can get it directly if you have a detailed map."

"Please. We'll need a few drops of potion, a small vial, some never-break, padded thread. I'll look out the maps." Severus stood up and handed her the magpie, which she cradled gently but firmly in her hands. As the door slid shut (he'd remembered to turn the outside light on this time) I held out my hand to it, then moved away quickly as it stabbed forward with its beak.

"Careful, Jane. Malfoys don't train their pets to be kind." Still holding the magpie firmly in one hand, she unlocked the office and rummaged through her papers, muttering to herself. I knew better than to offer to help, Hermione hated any of her books or papers being moved. A few minutes later she returned with an armful of maps. Still holding the maps and the magpie, she opened the sliding door - Severus was back already.

"We can't use more than three maps, or the charm won't be strong enough. The detailed map of Britain must be there, and I think the little one of the world, for safe-keeping. What do you think?" she asked.

"Malfoys have strong links in Europe. It would be worth the risk to leave out the world map and use the more detailed one of Central and Eastern Europe."

"That's missing out a lot of Europe."

"Central and Eastern should catch most of Malfoys' contacts."

Hermione frowned. I could understand why, if they were only looking for one person he could be anywhere. "London?" she suggested.

"Yes. Most detailed map you've got." Severus stared at the maps they had chosen as though trying to memorise them. Fingering the firelighter under his cloak, he drew it out suddenly and swished it through the air so that it made a humming noise, then replaced it in his belt. "That should do," he said. "May I see the bird?"

Hermione laid each of the maps out flat on the floor, placing a pin with a coloured head to mark our present position on each map. I watched Severus' long white fingers twisting and knotting a piece of thread, which he used to secure a tiny glass bead under the bird's wing. He'd poured one drop of clear fluid into the bead, securing the top so tightly that it looked all one piece. When finished I couldn't see the thread at all, but he was clearly still worried because he took time fluffing the bird's feathers to obscure the bead.

"Ready to go?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "I'll just show Jane what needs done before you send it on."

She tied a piece of thick woven paper to the magpie's leg - similar to the one they'd taken off it, but not the same, since I could see the original still resting on the arm of her chair. "When Severus lets the bird go you need to keep a close eye on the map - you can watch the European one, because it'll move slowly if it gets onto it. Just look at the pin - when the bird continues its journey a small black line will trace outward from the pin - starting on the carpet in your case. If the black line reaches the map mark its journey with more pins. Severus will watch the London map and I've got the British one." She indicated her British map, with its red pin stuck in our position, three hours North West of London. Cleo sat down firmly on the British map and was brushed off, leaving the room in disgust. Crookshanks flopped against my feet and purred.

Severus threw the magpie out of the door. Hermione crouched low over her map, watching intently. I thought at first nothing was happening, then about fifteen minutes later I saw a little black line heading south, snaking across the carpet. Hermione had already used several pins. Snape hovered over his map, staring morosely at the street names but not paying much attention to the carpet where his pin was.

"It's heading for London," said Hermione, after another ten minutes. The line I was watching was now about three inches long, winding away from the pin.

"Got it," said Snape, marking the edge of his map with a yellow pin. "South Hampstead, Regent's Park, heading for the river. Waterloo, Marshalsea. It's stopped. The corner of Marshalsea and Borough High Street."

"The old debtors' Prison?"

"That general area. I'll organise someone to check it out. Keep an eye on these - I want to know whether the bird returns to Malfoy or goes elsewhere."

With that he stood up and left. The cats were now curled together on the sofa.

"We might as well go to bed," said Hermione. "The map will show the route if the magpie moves on again."

* * * *

"We're going to London this weekend," announced Cade Jordan.

"Lucky you, Cade," said Mrs Knight. "Any-one else going anywhere exciting?"

Dylan bounced up and ran forward. "We're going to have Easter Eggs," he shouted at the top of his voice. "And gan-ma coming to stay. But Tyler will wet the bed," he finished, his face dropping."

"Thankyou Dylan. Go and sit down now, there's a good boy."

"Hush, Dylan, listen to the others," I whispered as he sat down beside me. He was still talking so loud that I couldn't hear myself think.

"Free-play time, children. SuEllen is in the art corner and before snack time Jane will show you how to make Easter nests."

In two hours the school holidays would officially start! I'd decided I was finally going to get that computer, and learn to use it. I'd dig over part of the garden, ready for some vegetables. I'd spend hours reading, lazing about, plaiting and knotting cords - maybe even make Christmas presents for my family using the macramé techniques.

But first, there was a bunch of happy, bouncing kids to supervise and Easter nests to make. I switched on the jumpiest music I could find and went to help Mrs Knight sort out the childrens' paintings and things that they'd made during the term and hadn't taken home yet.

"To think that in a few months time most of these will be starting school," Mrs Knight said, watching them.

"Some of them are ready. There's Dylan, already able to add and subtract. Cade can read - I mean really read, not just memorise."

'You think Dylan's ready for school?"

I shook my head. "He's ready for more than this. He'll be five in two months." I couldn't imagine Dylan in school, he can't even sit on the mat for longer than five minutes at a time. I watched Michael Harrison and the new girl, Julia, racing around hand in hand then crawling off to hide under a table.

"There's another couple," said Mrs Knight. "I wonder how long that one will last."

"They can last some years, sometimes," I said. "My little brother was best friends with the daughter of one of Mum's friends from the time he was two until he was six and a half. They were inseparable. I wouldn't give most adult relationships that long." I smiled at the memory of them. They used to hide under the table and eat pretend icecream, or play with dolls and pretend to be a family. Although I couldn't join in, listening and watching was a pleasure in itself as they loaded up their imaginary icecream cones with imaginary strawberries and chocolate, or shared packets of imaginary sweets.

Michael and Julia were still under the table as I set up a bench with shredded wheat, melted chocolate and paper cases. "How many children do you want?" Michael asked her.

"Seven. How about you?"

"Six, I think. I'll have a big farm and teach them to ride horses."

"I like that. I'll have hens, to peck grain and go cluck-luck-luck."

"And ducks."

"Can you make a duck noise?"

"Quack -Quack. You do a sheep."

Just then Louise spotted them and coaxed them out, to wash their hands and join the other children. I crumbled the shredded wheat into a large bowl, mixed in the melted chocolate and scooped it out into a paper case, using my thumbs to make it look like a nest. Setting it aside to set, I picked up a finished one with three little eggs and a fluffy Easter chick sitting in it. Mrs Knight gave each of the children two biscuits of shredded wheat to crumble - the most straightforward part of the activity. After snack I would be showing them how to make their Easter chicks out of card and cotton wool.

Julia giggled, lifting her hands so that little flecks of shredded wheat sprayed over the table. I moved to the other end of the table where one of the boys was struggling to mash his biscuit - he was using the most energetic method possible and despite his earnest endeavours to punch it against the bottom of the bowl, only the centre of the biscuits had caved in slightly.

"Do it like this," Dylan insisted, lifting his biscuit up and crumbling it. The boy watched him and tried to copy, the biscuit falling back into the bowl in two halves.

"No, like this," Dylan insisted, showing him again.

"He's managing, Dylan, let him do it himself. You've done a real good job of yours. Are you ready for the chocolate?" He nodded, and stuck his hand in the air as I told him to, so that SuEllen would notice.

"We're big kids, aren't we? We get to make nests, and Tyler just did a card."

"Next year Tyler can make a nest too." I moved on, showing them how to use the wooden spoon to mix the chocolate and the strands of wheat.

* * * *

"Nearly over," said SuEllen. "Are you doing anything interesting over Easter?"

I shook my head. Michael and Julia were under the table again, sharing their snack. "Just homely stuff. Hermione and I are going clubbing this weekend, we haven't been out for ages."

"Where you going?"

"Haven't decided yet. Hermione says there's a new place opened just off Victoria Street." I wondered how they would react if I told them we were going to the Crane 'n' Eye, a club that was becoming locally notorious for no other reason than its predominantly gay clientele. Homophobia is alive and well in our town.

"We're going to le mer tomorrow night, keep it in mind if you want to join us. We're on the pull - Nathan's away for the week and Louise is single again."

"Thanks," I said, mentally marking, le mer as a club to avoid. I put the heavy lump that was Mrs Knight's 8-month old daughter in her playpen in the corner of the room and returned to the bench to sort out the circles of card that would form the body, head and feet of our Easter chicks.

"Spring-time is coming, is coming today; For I saw a chick-y, hatched out in the hay"

I repeated the song two or three times, till the children were all looking and listening, before showing them how to glue their chick together. SuEllen and I slotted twenty-five pairs of feet onto twenty-five chicks while they were gluing, then carried them off to the nests. Mrs Knight had already put three chocolate eggs into each nest. Finally it was time for games and songs on the mat, before their parents came.

Twenty-five children ran out of the door, one by one, chatting and laughing. I smiled. For a final afternoon, the session had gone better than most, and Hermione was walking across the playground. I helped the others stack tables and chairs and take down pictures from the walls. We'd be back the day before next term started to set up for summer.

"Have a good Easter, Jane. Look after her, Hermione."

"Thanks, SuEllen, you too. Bye Louise, have a happy Easter."

"Give me a call if you get bored, you can come over."

"Thanks Mrs Knight. I will do. Have a Happy Easter."

* * * *

The sun was still shining warm and bright, the daffodils waving as we walked home. I had almost forgotten the maps till I opened the door and they were still lying on the floor. The day's activities had completely driven last night's events out of my mind.

"The bird moved on," said Hermione. "Severus Snape was right in one thing - it didn't go back to Malfoy Manor."

A row of pins traced across Eastern Europe, zigzagging across Poland, Romania, Georgia and finally, Armenia.

"He arrived in the Ararat Valley just after lunch-time today. He's probably feeding and resting." Cleo sat on the London map, swatting at the pins.

"Oh, leave her," Hermione said in exasperation as she rolled onto her back, waving her paws in the air. "She's been doing that all morning. She can't harm anything."

"What message did you send? You obviously changed it."

"Prepare for action. Do nothing until I come," quoted Hermione. "That was Severus' idea. Whoever received the bird sent it on - with that message. There's just a chance that some of Lucius Malfoy's colleagues will reveal themselves unintentionally. Meanwhile the man himself is probably still wondering why he has heard nothing. It won't be long before he finds out his message was tampered with. Severus Snape... well, speak of the devil!"

Sure enough, the man himself was standing outside our door. He walked quickly over to the maps, noting the pins.

"Have you recorded the exact location of each stop?"

"Yes. I'll give you a list."

"The maps need to stay here," he said, turning to me. "I'll let you know when they can be moved."

I nodded. I'd really wanted to clear everything away and vacuum the floor, but if Hermione and Severus needed to run the government intelligence network on my living room floor, so be it.

I hummed as I dropped my bag in the bedroom and returned to the kitchen. Severus and Hermione were still poring over the maps. Spring-time is coming, is coming today... I mixed a spoonful of honey into each of three half-full cups of boiling water and topped up with fresh fruit juice. Three large slices of creamy chocolate cake and some oatmeal cookies (I'd done some baking yesterday) completed the tray.

"We really should get another chair," I said lightly, sitting on the floor with my back against the coffee table - which Crookshanks was sitting on. Hermione looked as if she didn't think that was a good idea at all. I thought it made sense - after all, Severus ate with us at least two or three times a week and before Ginny left she had been here nearly every weekend.

* * * *

Harry and Ron turned up on Saturday morning, much to my relief. I hadn't seen either of them for over a fortnight, and with the dangerous stuff they were getting involved in, I was slightly worried. Lucius Malfoy sounded like a really nasty character. The bird apparently hadn't moved.

"Maybe it died, or got captured again," said Harry, gloomily.

"Maybe the tracking charm isn't working anymore," said Ron, nudging Cleo off the London map. "It could have fallen off."

I doubted that. I knew Severus had tied it on good and tight. I'd hoped for news of Ginny, but there was still no word. "How're Luna and the baby," I asked, bringing a smile to Ron's face.

"They're fine. Luna would love to be with us, but Mum convinced her to stay. Rene looks completely different to when you saw her."

"Say hello to them both from me, when you see them," I said. I could visualise Luna's serene face, calmly dealing with a new baby, an absent distracted father and a fussing mother-in-law. It felt as though I'd known her forever, not just for a few hours. "Could you give me your address? I'd like to write to her."

To my surprise Ron glanced at Harry and looked down at the ground. "I'm not sure, that is, the postman doesn't..."

"Give the letter to Hermione," said Harry. "She'll see that it gets there."

"The way Snape was talking last night, I thought we'd know a lot more than this by now," said Ron, pointing at the map with his foot.

"What's up with Snape, anyway? I know the Order is everything to him, but so is his teaching. I don't see how he can spend so much time between here and the headquarters and still teach - what are you tutting about Hermione?" asked Harry.

"You - of all people, ought to know. Have you never noticed what time he usually turns up?"

"Do you think I've got nothing better to do than keep track of Snape?"

My fingers went automatically to the coloured thread around my neck, shifting the small warm stone. No-one had mentioned Armata-Rae, not even Hermione, since the day she made me the amulet. Sometimes it seemed to me as if only I could see it. I looked out of the window - it was turning into another sunny day, a day to be outside. I decided that as soon as Hermione left I would start work on the garden.

"Are you ready, Hermione? The maps can't tell us anything more."

"Just coming," she replied, emerging from her office with an armful of books. "I might be a few hours Jane, but I'll be back in time to go out, no trouble."

Harry held the door open for her. "See you Jane," he said, a broad smile lighting up his face as he slid the door shut. I stared after he'd gone - he looked so like a little child, smiling like that.

* * * *

The ground was colder, and wetter than I expected. After a cursory weeding I started turning it, heavy and sticky, and breaking up the clods. By mid-afternoon I'd done less than I'd hoped, but it was raked out and looking nice. In a few weeks when the weather warmed up properly it would be a perfect seed bed. Exhausted, streaked with dirt and with aching arms I slipped my feet out of their mud-heavy wellies and had a shower.

I picked some daffodils for the jam jar that sat on the coffee table - they perfumed the air nicely. Later in the summer I would walk out of town for wild roses on the long evenings. They grew in the hedgerows and along the road edge. The tightly clustered blooms emitted a lasting scent for several days after they had been picked. There was still some chocolate cake left, and I ate a slice in lieu of lunch while preparing meat pasties for our four o clock snack - I was hoping Hermione would be home by then.

Just before four Severus Snape arrived, immediately checking the maps.

'It's heading home. You've been busy today, Jane?"

"Gardening. I want to grow some vegetables this summer. Have you finished teaching for the holidays?"

He grimaced. "Still got a week to go. I'll be glad to see the back of those dunderheads for a fortnight. What are you cooking?"

"Meat and vegetable pasties - they're nearly ready. I thought the boys might join us on their way home."

"They will be here soon. After Molly Weasley's lunch I'll be amazed if any of them are hungry."

He followed me through to the kitchen, leaning against the wall as I made a fruit salad, chopping and slicing with my usual rapidity. He raised his eyebrows when he saw me slicing a pile of fat red grapes into halves to flick the seeds out.

"You enjoy cooking, don't you?"

"And eating. I love eating."

"It doesn't show."

I turned away slightly, not knowing what to answer. That was the first time he'd ever commented on my appearance, or even indicated that he was aware of it. "How is your arm? I see you've taken the bandage off."

"Healed perfectly, thank you Jane."

"After two days? Some of those scratches were deep." I made him show me, but only faint red lines showed where the cuts had been. I talked about some of the plans I had for the holidays, more for something to say than for any other reason. "We're going to a club tonight, Hermione and I. Would you like to come?"

He looked amused. "To a night club? Why would I wish to accompany you?"

"You'd enjoy it. Hermione's coming, she's a good dancer."

"Do you really think I would wish to accompany you? To watch you girls staring into each others eyes, unable to keep your hands off each other."

I blushed. He was right, it was hard enough behaving properly in a regular night club. That was why we had started going to the Crane 'n' Eye, and somehow, I just couldn't see Severus Snape fitting in with that crowd.

"Thank you Jane. I do not believe you intend to be cruel."

The sound of voices alerted me to the arrival of the other three. They bustled in, exclaiming at the new black line heading west on the European map as Severus said one last word.

"I'll be around over Easter. By the end of the holidays things will have changed, I may have more time to visit. You're a good person."

He said that like he meant it!

* * * *

By the time the boys left, the black line indicating the magpie's flight had stopped dead in the middle of Wiltshire, without revisiting the London address. My questions had received only guarded answers, and still no news of Ginny, but I uncovered one piece of information I hadn't known before. Harry lived at headquarters.

"You do like travelling, don't you," I laughed. He smiled that smile again - the one that makes him look like a four year old, while Snape looked sharply from him to me and then at Hermione.

"It's your cooking, Jane," he said, helping himself to a second meat pasty. "You're worth travelling across country for."

Me? Or my cooking? This situation is starting to look worrying. I'm with Hermione after all, we'd probably get married if it was legal. I don't want Harry or Severus, appreciation is nice, but I don't want them. Not like that.

I felt rather awkward for the rest of the time they stayed, though they didn't seem to notice. Harry kept looking at me and then looking away again. Severus' expression was completely inscrutable.

As soon as they'd gone I ran to change while Hermione washed up. It was far too early to go clubbing, but I'd decided to abandon the intended dinner in the fridge until tomorrow night and walk in the park. On such a nice night, Hermione agreed. We covered our dresses with modest coats, concealing the bright colours. At the time we'd bought them we made a 'no black' pact with each other. Hermione had a beautiful purple velvet and I wore a satiny blue with red trimming. Hermione loved the way the red set off my black hair. The amulet with its pretty coloured chain hung exposed, but I was quite confident on no-one noticing it. The warmth of the little crystal was pleasant in this cold night, comforting when I felt so unsure of myself, and the intentions of the people I had considered my friends.

The primroses edged the circular rose beds in yellow, red and blue. I wished we'd walked out of town instead, the long rank grass underneath the hedges holds treasures of leaf and flower that just can't be found in a well-maintained, inner city park. I could imagine these primroses tumbling over the edge of a low wall, growing on top of each other in merry profusion instead of laid out neatly, a large patch of black earth between each plant and its neighbour. Below the trees a field was left unmown and clumps of daffodils displayed their yellow trumpets to all who came by. We sat on a bench eating chips with our fingers and watched the dogs running and playing, or straining on the end of a long lead. Next year, I decided, I'll do something more with our garden at home. My mind was full of primroses and tulips, Sweet Williams and zinnias, when Hermione neatly folded her paper and suggested moving on. We washed our hands at the public loos and settled into a quiet pub to watch the sky darken over a few drinks.

"Let's go," I whispered, as the band started to pack up. The pub would be closing in less than fifteen minutes. We smiled at the band as we left. They'd been playing Scottish ceilidh music for nearly two hours to an almost empty pub, the fiddler nodding and looking at Hermione most of the time and making a valiant attempt to chat her up during their break. As Hermione said, "He really made me feel cruel when I said thanks, but no thanks."

"We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz," I hummed. "In ten minutes we're officially a couple."

"Does that mean I get to kiss you?"

"You could have done that before, it might have scared the fiddler away once and for all."

"It might have got us thrown out of the pub, too."

The Crane 'n' Eye was lit up with neon blue lights as we approached, leaving our coats in the locker room and heading into the main club area. The bar was already busy, the dance floor nearly empty as my eyes adjusted to the dim smoky interior and the flickering coloured lights. Streaks of blue and red played across the walls and Hermione's face and I glanced down at my dress, glowing lilac. I don't know why I hadn't realised when I bought it that the light colour would glow under UV lighting, being noticed has never been my main aim in life.

"Hermione! Jane! How are you guys? We haven't seen you in ages." I turned to greet the two young men who walked forward to shake hands with me and hug Hermione. "Cool music, eh, what have you two been up to?"

"Angelina?" Hermione stared in shock at a girl who had met her eyes for an instant and then darted away.

"Who's that?"

"Girl I went to school with. I'm pretty sure it was her. What would you like to drink? Can I get you two guys something? Where are you living now?"

I tapped my foot, listening to the music as Hermione talked with her friends. "You girls have got it easy," I heard one of them say. "Soon as any-one knows Andy and I are more than friends we get some real funny looks. We've started keeping it quiet. Places like this," he looked around at the couples holding hands, chatting, dancing. "They're a salvation. We can be ourselves here."

I think that look I got from Severus could be called a real funny look, I thought. I wonder what he was thinking when he saw us kissing like that.

'Total Eclipse of the Heart' filled the room as we finished our drinks and headed for the dance floor. That song is so-o old. I remembered falling in love with the song the first time I heard it - as a ten year old at a friend's pyjama party. This is the main reason Hermione comes clubbing. I watched her swinging round in Andy's arms - she really is a good dancer - before the song changed and I relinquished Tom to his boyfriend. Hermione and I waltzed round the floor, drifting with the music as it got slower and slower.

"They're doing that deliberately," said Hermione. "They think if they make it slow enough every-one will start snogging."

We were moving so slowly now that we were almost standing still, looking into each other's eyes.

"Last time we tried..." I began.

"Severus interrupted us," she finished.

"You owe me one - for attracting that fiddler."

"I couldn't help that. Well you owe me one - for ensnaring my best friend."

"Harry? I can't help that."

"I think you owe me two."

I didn't reply. I'd been trying not to think about Severus any more. If he was serious - and I had no proof that he was - I was in a rather scary situation. Severus Snape wasn't a person you could turn away from lightly. Hermione allowed me no more thinking time, as she lowered her head to kiss me, taking the double payment that she claimed I owed.

* * * *

I shivered in the cold night air, drawing my coat closer round me. It was well after one in the morning. Hermione glanced behind her at the clubbers still spilling out of the Crane 'n' Eye. "Keep your head up and walk briskly," she instructed me. "We'll be home in forty minutes, no problem." The streets were empty, our shoes striking little patterns in the pavement as we walked home, ignoring the occasional car that cruised along, or sidled up behind us. Hermione swore under her breath as she gestured rudely at one persistent driver.

Finally the noise of cars faded into the distance as we turned into our own little street and through the gate. My relief at arriving home without any awkward encounters was short-lived when I realised there was a light shining in the living room. We'd left before dark, locking up securely. Hermione drew breath sharply when she noticed it.

"It's alright, it'll be some-one to see me," she said, recovering herself.

She was right. As we opened the door a tall, green-robed lady with her hair tightly pulled back in a bun looked up from the book she'd been reading and took her spectacles off.

"Hermione Granger, we need you to come immediately. There has been a problem with our shadow in Armenia." She rolled her 'R's in true Scottish manner, but her manner indicated that the message was urgent.

"I'll be there directly, Professor McGonagall," said Hermione, going to our room. When she came back she was dressed in robes and the black cloak I'd noticed before, and carrying a small brief-case. The lady flicked her arm at the flames in the fireplace, and asked me to fetch a glass from the kitchen. When I came back they'd both gone, and the fire was out.