Coral

Be still my beating heart

It would be better to be cool

Its not time to be open just yet

A lesson once learned is so hard to forget



Be still my beating heart

Or I'll be taken for a fool

Its not healthy to run at this pace

The blood runs so red to my face

Ive been to every single book I know

To soothe the thoughts that plague me so



I sink like a stone thats been thrown in the ocean

My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion

Stop before you start

Be still my beating heart



Restore my broken dreams

Shattered like a falling glass

Im not ready to be broken just yet

A lesson once learned is so hard to forget

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--The New House--





The sun rose over a tangled garden. It illuminated the tall narrow house, the rickety looking balcony, and a neat row of fifteen fresh cigarette butts, all only half-smoked, lying on the splintery railing.



Inside the house, Amanda indulged herself in a non-ladylike, but extremely satisfying stretch before opening her eyes. For the briefest moment she was disoriented, as her gaze fell on the shoulder high walnut wainscoting along the wall.



As she recalled everything, her face broke into a smile, and she turned her head, only to be disappointed when she found herself to be the bed's sole occupant. Seeing one's spouse in the early morning was supposed to be one of the many privileges of marriage.



A glance at the small bedside clock, however, showed that early morning had long passed, and it was now a quarter of noon. She stumbled out of the bed, and made her way to the bath. Polly was supposed to be here already, to help her pack for her 'honeymoon', but she didn't bother ringing for her. Instead she locked the bathroom door, and began filling the large tub with water.



One of the oddities about the Wizarding world, was that they had no showers that she had discovered. Not that she minded, baths were nice enough, it just seemed that with unlimited magical capabilities, showers would have been 'invented' here at some point. Or at least in some fashion.



She was grateful enough for running, hot water.



A glance in the mirror made her wince. Her make-up was now smudged or missing, and she had pillow creases along her cheek. Perhaps it was a good thing her husband hadn't seen her first thing in the morning. She somewhat less than human, in her own opinion.



She was a little surprised to discover that she didn't look any different, physically. She felt she should look older. Or, altered. Wiser? There was no evidence on her person, or in her eyes to suggest what had taken place.



Unconsciously, she began humming " La Vie En Rose" as she slipped into the bathtub, sank to her ears and closed her eyes. She was startled some time later, by Polly's knock and call. Had she dozed off? The water was cool.



" Need any help, Miss Amanda?"



" No thank you Polly, I...Oh yes, I need a dress! I completely forgot, I don't know where my clothes are! "



When Amanda had finished her toilette, a much simpler process than the one the day before, since it required only a small amount of mascara, she let Polly dry her hair quickly with a charm. Then she dressed in a soft cotton skirt, brown with mauve rose buds, and a soft, thin brown sweater with a lace collar.



Tying her hair up in loose knot, she was about to leave the room when Polly stopped her, and indicated a breakfast tray resting on a small round table.



" Oh, Polly...I'm not hungry."



Polly remained adamant.



" Mr. Ollivander insisted on it.Before he left, he said, Polly, you're not to let her set foot out of the room unless she eats. "



Amanda grudgingly sat down and opened the tray. Inside was a dish of strawberries, a small bowl of dipping chocolate, and some toast.



Polly began tidying up with nonchalant wand motions. Amanda tried one of the strawberries, then devoured the toast. Perhaps she was a bit hungry.



" Did he say where he was going?" she asked.



" Not to me. But he left a note for you under there, under the tea pot. "



Amanda lifted the pot, and pulled out a scrap of foolscap over which his handwriting, which was very slanting and even, had been applied with obvious care...



He wrote that he had gone to the Ministry to clear up the last bit of paperwork, then to the shop to be sure it was closed down properly for his absence. He promised her a better, late luncheon after his return, which should be at two o'clock.



Amanda ate two more strawberries, then jumped to her feet, brushing her hands off.

" What should I do first?" she asked Polly. She was aware that the other girl was watching her closely. No doubt searching for anything to gossip over later with Eloise. " I think I'll explore some of the downstairs rooms."



She took the note to the silver box on one of the bureaus. It had once contained letters from J.H. Hannigan. Now she carefully lay Edward's note inside. In a few months, the box would be nearly full.



Downstairs, she and Polly began in the parlor, uncovering pieces of furniture one at a time.



The first piece was a swan fainting couch, upholstered in diamond tufted, grey fabric.



The backpiece was a high, elegantly arched swan, carved from rich walnut.



She ran her fingers over the details, amazed by the intricate care taken with the texture of the feathers, wondering how many people had rubbed their hands along the arch over the years.



" This is beautiful."



" Yes it is. Sit down, and see if it's soft." Polly urged.



Amanda seated herself on the edge, then slowly reclined.



" Very soft!" she noted. Playfully, she threw one arm over her forehead, and sighed, imitating a swoon.



Polly giggled.



" Did women truly faint enough to need a special sofa?" Amanda laughed, rising from the couch. " Try it. "



" Oh, maybe I shouldn't."



" Sure you should. I want to see what it looks like."



Polly lay down stiffly, and reclined against the rest. As soon as she sank into the soft material, she smiled.



" Oh, it is soft!"



Amanda regarded her from a distance, one finger thoughtfully placed on her chin.

" Hmmm...very artistic Let's see what else is hidden!"



They spent the next half hour pulling covers from different shapes, revealing tables, two wingback armchairs, a settee, two side chairs, three glass bookcases, and, best of all, a rosewood pianoforte. Amanda clapped her hands together in delight, and sat down to it immediately.



" Let's see can the old girl sing!" she murmured to herself, carefully opening the delicate, inlaid lid.



Striking the keys experimentally, she was pleased to hear perfectly tuned, melodious music ring out through the house, cutting through the austere silence that clung to all houses that sat empty for too long. She was sure that she could sense the walls cringing, the paintings awakening, the chairs glancing around to discover who or what had disturbed their slumber.



She played through a short piece, and sat for a moment, listening to the fading reverberation. It had been too long since she had touched ivory keys, and she hadn't realized how much she had missed it. Her hands went instinctively for the keys again but he stopped herself. There were things to be done, and if she let herself, she could remain here for hours, trying to remember her grandmother's piano repertoire.



It struck her suddenly how far she had come in only eleven months. Could it really have been less than a year ago that she was seated in a house in Louisiana, playing music while her mother embroidered and her father read from a Dicken's novel? Dombey and Son, perhaps. It was his favorite.



" That was lovely." Polly said, at last, breaking into her reverie.



Amanda smiled.



" Thank you. It's been a long time since I played." she stood and closed the lid, hastily wiping at the tears that threatened to form.



" I think I shall examine the kitchen. I hope it has a real stove, that a Muggle can use." she said, moving toward the back of the house.



" Well, if not, I can always help."



" I know. It's just I was always raised to believe that a wife, no matter how rich, or how much a lady, was supposed to know how to turn her hand to the romantic art of cooking." Amanda recited her Grandmother Garret's words. " Besides, I enjoy it. " she added.



" Look at that stove, Ms. Amanda! Won't be either of us cooking on it, I'm afraid!"

Amanda examined the cast iron relic. It seemed to be in fine enough condition. It had a dull, rust colored sheen, but no cracks. It needed a only little polish, and of course, some nice old fashioned stovewood.



" Actually Polly, I think we will both be able to use it just fine." Amanda laughed. "For awhile, at least."



She opened all of the cupboards, and noticed with a bit of confusion that there was no ice box. Even Eloise's house had an ice box! At last she discovered a well-disguised door, built into the wall opposite the stove. When she pressed her hand against it, it opened easily revealing a tall, narrow pantry, that expelled a gust of cold air.



" Cold pantry." Polly informed her." Sometimes, we just use stasis charms to keep the food from spoiling, but they don't always last.This is charmed to stay cold for years."

It was completely empty, save for some ice. Amanda closed it again.



When the hall clock struck two, she was under the sink, examining the plumbing. A little rusty, but otherwise in working order. Hearing the tone of the clock, she leapt to her feet.



" It's time for him to come home! Do I have any dust?" she brushed roughly at her sweater.



" You look fine." Polly assured her, but brushed her seat off anyhow.



Edward was just opening the door as she reached the foyer, and she stood waiting, a bit shyly, as he hung up his hat and dropped a walking stick into the wooden receptacle attached to the hall tree.



For a moment they simply regarded each other. There were too many things to say, and at the same time, nothing to be said. It was smooth easy silence. Finally she held both of her hands out to him, her gesture of friendship and acceptance. He took them gratefully, placing a kiss on each, before she led him inside, smiling.



" Did you sleep well?" he asked, searching for something, anything to say.



" Yes. Wonderfully."



" I see you've been busy." he noticed the pile of white furniture covers.



" Yes. I hope you don't mind."



" Amanda, I told you. The is your house now. Did you find anything of interest?"



" Yes, it's all wonderful. Especially this couch." she pointed to the swan chaise.



" Ahhh...yes..." he touched the carved wood wither an expression akin to reverence.She noted that one of his cuffs was tattered. Something that could easily be mended. " It was my mothers."



" Oh. Should...should I re-drape it?"



" No. An object is only sad when it is no longer used. I believe it suits you. "



He urged her to be seated, then stood back to observe her.



" Yes...almost perfect. It should be closer to the fire though, so you don't catch chill. And I would like to see it recovered in coral satin."



" It might clash with my hair."



" I'll have Polly send an order to Mr. Trimmer." he ignored her. " We'll have it professionally re-upholstered. No temporary charms. Then I think Polly can have the afternoon off, if you don't object."



" No, that is fine. "



He made to call Polly, but she stopped him.



" Can...can't I at least have a kiss?" she blurted out.



He regarded her with well disguised suspicion, searching her face for any signs of her true underlying purpose. She seemed guileless enough, her grey eyes were open and honest...and for some unfathomable reason, that worried at him greatly. He kept his composure though, and merely joked drily;



" I've never seen the harm in indulging a lady." He bent neatly from the waist and brushed a quick kiss to her lips.Unexpectedly he had to brace himself with one hand on the back of the chaise, and it was only the clang of Polly dropping something in the kitchen that reminded them they were not alone in the house yet.



He pulled back hastily, one hand held protectively and defensively over his heart. Polly was called and given an order to take to Mr. Trimmer, and when he told her to not return until the next morning, to help Amanda pack for their trip, he gave her a handful of coins for the trouble of running errands.



Once she had departed merrily, he asked Amanda if she had discovered anything else of interest in the house, so far.



" Yes. Did you know that you have a pianoforte?"



" Ah, yes...My Aunt Gertrude used to sing duets with it."



" It's still in tune."



" She never was. So, do you play?"



" Oh, just a little. I was required to learn as a child."



" I would like to hear."



" Now?" she asked blushing.



" Why not? " he led her to the instrument and helped her to sit. " It's been years since I heard anyone play."



She opened the yellowed music book that was propped on the rack, and flipped through it. It would be hours of practicing before she would attempt anything too dramatic. She chose Fur Elise, and took a deep breath. Halfway through, she noted that the piano seemed to have a sort of charm placed the keys so that they felt like silk under her fingers. It was no effort at all to strike them, and she began to play faster and faster.



When she finished, breathing excitedly, she was surprised by his polite clap.



" Just a little!" he exclaimed. " Is there anything else you cannot play very well?"



She grinned.



" I don't know. Let's see."



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Bestill My Beating Heart-Sting