In the Aftermath of War
"Peaceful isn't it?" said Remus Lupin, flexing his bare white toes in the sunshine and reaching for the cold glass of gin and tonic which levitated beside his deckchair.
Bees droned in the honeysuckle that climbed the brick walls, a bright-feathered snidget twittered in the ancient oak tree. In the sky beyond the garden, orphaned children shrieked and giggled at their game of broom tag.
The man lounging under a shade in the private garden's other deckchair stirred his own drink three times clockwise, making ice-cubes plink-plink against the glass and releasing fizzing bubbles.
"Yes," said Severus Snape. "It is."
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