Chapter Fifteen
Ottery St. Catchpole, December 2000
Within the walls of Hester House, in his old bedroom, still full of books that wouldn’t fit into his tiny apartment, Andrew waited to leave for Church. He wasn’t going to see a sermon, or get guidance – he was going to marry Amara.
The house was mostly empty, the downstairs decorated to the nines for the reception after. All things magic had been put away or hidden under charms; every magic guest had been warned that half the party would be Muggle.
Wandering down the hall, Andrew found himself in the music room, practically the only place not wreathed in purple flowers and some sort of green. Andrew had taken very little part in planning his own wedding – could the cake be purple? Sure! Could he wear a purple tie? Of course! Was it alright that they move almost every piece of furniture out of the main floor? Andrew couldn’t say no, didn’t want to!
As long as Amara was happy and having fun, Andrew was happy and having fun. He would sit quietly through every meeting, every cake tasting and flower decision. He was the perfect fiancée.
The deep red walls of the music room stretched high, arching like a cathedral, windows towering above him – letting in the light that was going to start fading soon. Sitting himself at the grand piano, he ran his fingers over the keys his great grandmother had played, that Hazel had played – that Remus had lovingly polished and taken care of for many, many years.
“I wish you were here.” He whispered, playing a light, airy note. “Mamma, Remus – I wish you were here so badly.” He closed his eyes, pressing down on the same keys Remus had played so many times, with anger and happiness, rage and pleasure. The day Andrew was born he had sat down and composed a tune that Andrew knew well, had wrote it just for him – slow and pretty, thoughtful and peaceful.
Andrew knew just what Remus would say, or thought he did – something along the lines of:
“This is important, Andy. You will be happy, and you will be sad – but you and Amara will always have this day together, and that is what will get you through the screaming fights and money and waking up at three in the morning to feed the children you two will cherish.”
He would smile, probably ruffle Andrew’s hair. He would end with a ‘I love you’ and a firm hug. He would smile sheepishly, surprised at the wisdom coming out of his mouth – he’d leave quietly, giving Andrew a few minutes to think on his own. Andrew missed Remus so much.
And Hazel – his Mamma would give him a quiet, loving hug, she would go on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and dust off the shoulders of his suit jacket. “You look very handsome,” she’d probably say, a little choked up. “Amara is very lucky.” She might tack on at the end, and Andrew knew – he knew deep down, somewhere between his throat and his heart – that Hazel would cover her scars with magic so she could wear something pretty and sleeveless.
Just as Andrew knew she would cover them, he knew Remus – even though he was married – would take her quietly to the side and kiss the places he knew by heart that the scars ran deepest. His lips would leave a mark much stronger than the ones Voldemort had left.
Hazel would cry, but the happy tears she shed when the weather was nice and Remus would play for her with Andrew, when Sonia would come out of her room and sit with them.
“Andy?” Sonia peeked into the music room, Max on her hip. “We better get going, or Amara will marry someone else.”
Standing, Andrew straightened his tux and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Er, no you’re not.” Sonia laughed, putting Max down and walking over, her heels clicking along the ground. She straightened his tie, did something to his hair and dusted off the shoulders of his jacket. “There, very handsome.”
“Mamma used to do that.” Said Andrew quietly, watching Max sit down between his mother’s feet and play with a purple flower.
“What?”
“Fix my hair, that thing to my shoulders – say I was very handsome. In that exact order.” He smiled and reached down, picking Max up. “Your Mamma is just like my Mamma.” He told him.
“Mamma have no Mamma.” Said Max, obviously confused.
A looks passed over Sonia’s face that Andrew knew well; it was the one she adopted whenever Max did something that broke her heart, just a little.
“She does,” said Andrew slowly, taking Sonia’s hand and leading her out of the room. “But she’s not here anymore.”
“Why?” asked Max, large dark eyes staring at Andrew with utter disbelief. “Mamma no go.”
“Well, ours had to. She was very nice, and very pretty, and loved you a whole lot.” They went down the grand stairs, into the foyer and through the front door. Winston had found them a car, and they got in together, Max in Sonia’s lap. The car had been charmed to drive itself, because neither twin really knew how to drive – besides the one incident with Mr. Weasley’s Ford Angelina over ten years ago.
“Mamma, where you Mamma?” asked Max, staring up at his mother.
Sonia sniffed and held Max tighter “Well Maxxie, she had to…she had to do it for us, for you.”
“Oh.” Said Max, adopting his pondering face. “Mamma miss her?”
“I miss her everyday.” Whispered Sonia, gaze glued to Andrew’s. “So does Uncle Andy.”
“She comin to weddin?”
“No babe,” Sonia said, reaching for Andrew’s hand. “She’s not coming.”
When Amara walked down the aisle, Andrew couldn’t believe it was actually happening. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, in that white sheath gown, holding her bouquet of purple flowers – she was stunning. The beauty of the small white, country church was dulled with her inside.
“Hey.” He breathed when she reached him, and she smiled right back.
“Hey.” Her sea glass eyes were lit up, cinnamon curls pulled into a half up, half down.
Saying ‘I do’ was the easiest, simplest thing Andrew had ever done.
And then it was the reception, the purple cake was eaten, the music was put on – and Amara was in his arms.
“Amara Nelson-Bowen,” he mused “Has a nice ring to it.”
“Not too long, or frumpy – easy for little kids to remember.” Agreed Amara.
“Little kids, huh?”
“Yeah, in a while – Blank Nelson-Bowen.” She laughed and shook her head.
“What’s so funny?”
“I can just picture your Mum’s face right now.” She said “Hazel would be sitting by herself, and at some point she’d say to me: ‘you know, Andrew will eventually forget to stop being perfect.’ She told me that once, a while ago.”
“Did she now?” asked Andrew, surprised.
“Oh yeah. She thought the world of you, Drew.” Amara looked at him seriously as they spun round, feet brushing flower petals, faces lit by lanterns strung across the ceiling. “You do know that, right?”
Holding her close, Andrew shut his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”
In his head he could see her, sitting at the side of the room with Remus, holding a sleeping Max. She wouldn’t dance, only a little bit with Andrew. Her dark eyes would be lit up all night, and at the very end she would whisper –
“I hope you’re happy, Andrew.”
And he would hug her, he’d kiss that cheek that was still young, crush curls that were still like sunshine. “I am.” He’d say “I hope you’re happy, too.”
She would never reply, just smile – because that was how Hazel was.
A/N: Andrew FINALLY got what he wanted!! Oooh, I'm so happy for him and Amara! Andara, married! How long have we been waiting for this? Five years? I think so. Aw. Sweeties.
Question: What do you think of how even though these chapters are about the twins, they're still sort of about Hazel at the same time? Interesting.
School has started, and that means I'll probably update more - writing tidbits in my notebook is more like it.