Coral

** Author's Note** Chapters are being re-edited to add extra details, lemons, and corrections.

This ole house once knew his children

This ole house once knew his wife

This ole house was home and comfort

As they fought the storms of life

This old house once rang with laughter

This old house heard many shouts

Now he trembles in the darkness

When the lightnin' walks about





Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer

Ain't a-gonna need this house no more

Ain't got time to fix the shingles

Ain't got time to fix the floor

Ain't got time to oil the hinges

Nor to mend the windowpane

Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer

He's a-gettin' ready to meet the saints









--The first months--





Eloise had arranged for the married couple to ' vacation' in Paris, the city which she insisted was the only city in which to honeymoon. This generous gift included restaurant reservations, and tickets to her choice of entertainment, both Magical and Muggle.



Noting each other's lack of enthusiasm for the location, they had discussed and decided against Paris. Not that they didn't appreciate Eloise, but at times her generosity was overshadowed by her idealism.



When Edward asked what she personally wanted to do, Amanda answered that she would like to see Venice. When he was asked the same question by her, he replied at length that he would like to take her to see La Boheme, performed only as Wizards could perform opera. With fireworks.



It was small rebellion against Aunt Eloise, and they did have the decency to feel slightly guilty. That did not hinder them from leaving early in the morning, and never thinking twice about Paris. Venice was a delight; Amanda was certain she had never seen a lovelier city, but the canals, even with the magically propelled, gaudily colored gondoliers, reminded her of her home. For once, she was not stricken with a horrible homesickness, but just the joy of admiring something familiar.

They went to La Boheme twice, and she cried both times, gently so as not to run her mascara. Afterwards they made love with the windows open and the soft, watered-scented breeze washing over them and cooled the damp of perspiration on his shoulders.




They returned to England in July. The temptation to linger in foreign places had nearly overwhelmed them more than once, but eventually his desire to return to his shop and her desire to begin her new life, had been sharp enough to penetrate through the enjoyment they were finding in freedom.



Being away, and alone, had been quite beneficial. They were no longer complete strangers, and the distance of the Ministry from their lives allowed a tentative amount of romance to creep into their daily interaction. In the awkward manner of arranged marriages friendship had to follow the fact--but they were fortunate enough to share many interests and sentiments.



Upon returning, however, they discovered it was much simpler to be away. The following months were nearly as hectic as the months before their wedding had been. The day after their arrival home, Edward was eager to re-open his shop, and he invited Amanda to visit it for the first time after lunch.



She marveled for quite some time over the excruciating neatness, and the overwhelming amount of wands. The shop was stern, yet eccentric, and gave the appearance of harboring great secrets within it's shadowy corners. It had made her uneasy at first, until she learned that the tingling and drowsiness was caused by the magic in the wands. She learned to resist and ignore the sensation, and after some time, she was not only comfortable in the shop, but looked forward to going.



She discovered that for all of the outward appearance of neatness in the business half of the shop, he had allowed the the back room and office to fall into chaotic disarray. The books and receipts were not only disorganized, but covered with dust and cobwebs.



His method had been for quite some time now, to simply scrawl the date, wand type,price, and purchaser onto a scrap of paper, and drop this into a wooden receptacle under the desk. This box had become overfilled several years ago, and now, though the ticket was aimed at top of the pile, it usually fluttered to the floor, or triggered a paper avalanche.



He had appeared very sheepish when she discovered this mess. If she had asked, he would had defended himself, pointing out that he had very little time for tidying, his efforts being spent in designing, carving, finishing, charming, and selling the product. Not to mention the sometimes laborious task of seeking out rare and expensive magical ingredients to place inside.



This was true. All of this work was his alone, as he had never hired an apprentice, or even a clerk. He had never discovered a person in whom he could lay absolute trust.

Elias...well, he had always hoped, when younger, that Elias would become his assistant one day. He had taken it for granted, actually. There had never been a time in the history of the Ollivander's that a son did not take on the father's or grandfather's shop. It had passed in a direct line, from male heir, to male heir, since the very beginning. This was their kingdom, and with it was supposed to come the love and pride of fine craftsmanship.



When Elias had refused, even ridiculed the very idea that he would be expected to work, Edward had simply resigned himself to the fact that he would be the last of the wandmaker's dynasty, and that the respect and history of the business would die along with himself.



He had subsequently closed himself into the shop, throwing all of his energy into his art, eventually even moving permanently into the flat above, and had remained there, until...Amanda.



Amanda did not remark on the untidiness, even though she could see that he was not pleased with himself. She did not ask to see the flat above. She considered that to be his private sanctuary, a male domain where he kept, and had kept for nearly thirty years now, his personal effects and masculine secrets.



Slowly, he made the complete transition himself from his bachelor's flat to the house; every so often bringing home articles of clothing, a book or two, a box of supplies. She knew when he brought home his chessboard, and set it up in the parlor, that he was completely hers. (Over their honeymoon he had mentioned several times his sincere enjoyment of the game, and offered to teach her to play. )



Edward's request was that Amanda should do with the house as she pleased, and it would please him very much if she made at least enough alterations to erase the brief memory of Dinah form the walls and rooms. He wanted it to be Amanda's home; their home.



So, with the help of Polly, Winter, and Estella; ( even occasionally Edward) Amanda freshened the house up considerably, uncovering and rearranging the furnishings, changing out the paintings, charming the colors to change on the draperies and rugs.

Though the difference was not great,( she had wanted to retain some of the house's original charm.) he had been pleased with the changes.



They had altered the wallpaper from it's exhausted green, to a flocked paper of coquelicot, with gold scrolls. The walnut wainscoting was had polish to a handsome gleam, the draperies changed to dull gold satin. The swan chaise had been recovered in the coral satin of his choice, but the rest of the furniture--or at least that which was not wood, was either gold, or oxblood, which lent the entire first floor a warm, rich ambience.



She was overwhelmed, but pleased, to discover in the china cupboard, a service for fifty, complete with the serving dishes, and even china napkin rings. The pattern was of poppies, in nearly the exact shade as her new walls.



Once the house was satisfactory, but not overly done, ( she wanted to enjoy working on it over time.) Amanda inquired of Edward as to whether there might be something she might do to help him.



At first, he had pulled back defensively. He didn't need help. He never had. It would be an invasion, a thing he could not fathom.



She did not ask again; simply let her offer, and his non-committal answer stand. They fell into a easy, and congenial routine.



He re-opened his smaller shop in the village, and two days a week he spent there from six in the morning to noon. Then he would close, have lunch at home, and Floo to Diagon Alley, where he finished the workday.



She would walk to the Village every day. This shop, small and closed for so long, was still organized, though musty.



He had spent one of their Sundays casting cleaning charms, and then importing some inventory. She spent that entire day with him, helping to stock the shelves, and listing the wands in the new ledger, which crackled delightfully when opened, in only the way that new leather books can crackle.



When he saw what fine, tall, well rounded handwriting she had, he began to bring her the receipts and books, a little at a time.



Happy to be useful, Amanda soon had all of the accounts straightened, the inventory labelled and catalogued, and her husband duly impressed.



Before long, she was also returning to Diagon Alley with him after lunch, to spend an hour or so assisting him. First with the inventory and the accounts.



One day, about three months after they had been married, he asked her to help him with cleaning a newly carved set of wands. They had to be wiped down gently with a special solution, to remove the oils from their hands before the polish was applied.



Having her to do this simple, but important and time consuming task freed more of his time to devote to the finishing of many wands that had fallen behind schedule.



Sundays were days of rest. They spent them alone; for Polly spent that day with her family. At first these Sundays were restless and awkward. They were still very much strangers to one another, unsure of what to say, or do.



They spent the hour after breakfast reading from the paper and discussing the articles. Amanda of course had many questions, and he was very patient about answering them, though inwardly he was sometimes irritated at Stella for having kept her so ignorant of the Wizarding World.



After the paper, there was a game of chess to be played, ( in which Amanda would inevitably lose, but with good grace,) lunch to be planned, a walk to enjoy, and individual pursuits and projects to be faced.



They spent the late afternoon in the garden, where Amanda would write poems on her little lap desk, and Edward would either read from one of the periodicals he enjoyed, work on some of the finer carvings, or walk around admiring the ivy and roses that they had decided to leave wild and tangled.



Sunday evening was Amanda's favorite time. They might light the fire in the library,( it was always cool enough for a fire in the library.) and share a seat on the leather sofa. To begin with, they would read to themselves; but very soon they developed the habit of reading aloud from a book, alternating between Wizarding texts, and Muggle literature.



Or, they might sit in the parlour, and Amanda would play the pianoforte, sometimes stumbling over the notes she should know so well, simply because when he watched her, his gaze was so intense as to almost burn her skin. He liked best when she played over

' Musetta's song' from La Boheme, the opera they had enjoyed on their honeymoon.



If she were tired, or didn't feel like playing, she would bring out her record player in her stead. She had refused to trade her beloved childhood gadget for a Magical system.

However at first she had been puzzled, nearly to the point of devastation about how to play it. There was very little electricity in the Wizarding world. Eloise had electricity, but only because she wanted to annoy her more traditional neighbors.



Edward's house had no electricity,but after a quick perusal of the players innards Edward quickly performed a spell, and the record player had begun to work it's own magic.



Of course, they had some moderate disagreement over aesthetics. Edward was not nearly so fond of Barry Manilow as she was...though he tolerated it behind his book, for her sake.

Occasionally Stella came by during the day, to chat, and perhaps to escape from Agnes' wedding preparations. Sometimes she would take Amanda back for short visits, and once Amanda had offered to help with the wedding, but Agnes had shunned the offer as sure as if were contaminated with pox.



Suitably chastised, Amanda withdrew and kept out of the affairs of Rookwood house. She had plenty of tasks to keep her occupied at home anyhow, as she insisted on doing much of the general cleaning by hand, much to Polly's chagrin, and a great amount of decorative sewing and needlework, such as new cushions, table linens and a few wall-hangings.



It surprised her one day, while seated alone in the parlor with her sewing, to suddenly be overcome with a mood of utter contentment. She had thought of herself as already content, but this contentment washed over with such poignant clarity, that she felt as though she had never in her life known something so pure.



Had she been so busy that she forgotten to notice? Or was it that the house had decided at that moment to accept her? That is what it felt like, a gentle squeeze by the air around her as though it offered an affectionate embrace.



No...that was silly, wasn't it? She smiled at herself and put her work to the side. Out of the window she could see the tree lined lane. The house had been built by Edward's great-great-great-great-grandfather, when the village had been exclusively a Wizarding community. It wasn't until the forties that Muggles, attracted by the charming view, had begun building their version of a village against the one the Wizards had so diligently kept hidden.



Edward's grandfather had reworked the charms on the house, so that it's front gate opened onto the Wizarding side of the world, but the high garden wall in back faced the Muggle side, and was virtually invisible to them. Regardless of this precaution, and the beauty of the house itself, Edward's first wife, Dinah, had remained only three short weeks.



During that time her mood had been so unbearably morose, that he was easily convinced to purchase, though not without help from her family, the more glamorous London town house. Much more suitable for entertaining friends.It had a bitter edge under it's dark beauty. He had hated it, but had been bound to it until they divorced.



He had told Amanda that much. Every so often little fragments of the past would fall into their casual conversation.It was very confusing to her, this woman Dinah, who had apparently come from a better family. What was she like? How had she come to marry him? She didn't dare ask.



She was content enough to be in Dinah's place now. Enjoying the house. Her house now, with it's peaceful view, and soft carpets.



Smiling, she turned back to her work.





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This Ole House-Lyrics, Stuart Hamblen