May 1979

Amelia Bones set the basket at the edge of the blanket and tried to ignore the selfish envy that had chased her all day. Her whole family was spending the afternoon at the lake for her little brother Edgar's birthday. Edgar's May birthday, when the sky was blue, the grass was green, the flowers were blooming, and the sun was shining. In other words, perfect picnic weather. But she didn't have a spring birthday, oh, no. Her birthday was in February, a miserable, wet, gloomy, freezing cold month. It had rained on her birthday every year she could remember, and since her mother's story of her birth included sending her father outside into a storm, Amelia assumed they all had been that way; thirty-four soppy, boring birthdays.

"Auntie 'Melia, can I have bread for the ducks?"

It was three-year-old Christopher, Edgar's oldest.

Amelia smiled. "Of course you can, darling." She reached into the basket for the day-old bread she had bought at the market yesterday for this very purpose. "Does Anna want some too?"

Christopher scowled at the idea of sharing with his fifteen-month-old sister, but when Amelia pulled a second loaf out of the basket, he agreed to take it to her. Amelia watched as he ran—Christopher ran everywhere—to Anna, dropped the loaf at his sister's feet with a single word ("ducks!"), and ran towards the quacking ducks, who were waddling to meet him. No need to keep watch; Nana had already assessed the situation and was leading Anna by the hand.

Amelia smiled at her niece and nephew, dressed in coordinating yellow and green outfits. It was a nice day for a picnic, and it was impossible to be in a bad mood with Christopher's infectious laughter and Anna's delighted squeals filling the air. Edgar and Irene were soaking up the sunshine, enjoying the respite of having someone else mind their children for awhile. Amelia returned to laying out the luncheon, stealing glances at her baby brother, Richard, and his bride of almost six months, Marion. They were walking hand in hand around the lake, heads bent close together and looking very much in love. Amelia paused with the fruit salad in one hand as the sharp spike of envy snuck under her guard again. She reminded herself she was happy for Richard. She was! It was just . . . she wanted someone to love too.

Another burst of laughter reached her ears, and Amelia's attention returned to the giggling children and the greedy ducks. She jabbed the spoon into the fruit salad, splattering the juice. This was ridiculous. Of course she had someone to love, a whole family of someones; parents and two brothers and now two sisters too, with a niece and a nephew for good measure. And in these times, that was eight relatives more than a lot of people had.

()()()()

September 1979

Amelia unrolled yet another scroll of parchment and sighed. Was there any other department in the Ministry of Magic with as much paperwork as the Wizengamot Administration Services? She stopped, scroll halfway unfurled. That was a good question, actually; she'd have to ask the girls at lunch tomorrow. Amelia had plans for her career in the Ministry, but they definitely didn't include more paperwork.

Returning her attention to the scroll, she was pleased to see it was a letter from Edgar himself and not Irene, as was usual.

Dear Sis,

Irene says she's tired of writing "Edgar sends his love" and that I should write you a proper letter. I said I'm a lousy writer and no one knows that better than Amelia, who being the fabulous big sister she is proofread every essay I ever wrote while she was still at Hogwarts. Irene was not impressed by this I'm sorry to say, and so here I am.

How are you? We're fine. The weather is nice. We had shepherd's pie for supper last night—are you laughing yet? I'm sure Irene's letters are much more interesting and polished but the point is I—we—want you to come up next weekend. We haven't spent any proper time together since my birthday and Christopher's been asking for you ever since I made the mistake of reading him "The Ugly Duckling" last week. Anna is talking up a storm and you might even be able to teach her to say "Auntie Am." You should see Richard with her—he's going to be a great dad even if he is scared spitless. Don't bother replying, I know you want to come.

Your (favorite) brother,

Edgar

Amelia rolled her eyes. To say Irene was a better letter writer was like saying You-Know-Who wasn't nice—a massive understatement. If she had a knut for every comma she'd corrected in Edgar's essays over the years, she wouldn't need this job, but he had made her laugh. And she was glad to hear Christopher liked the book. Ignoring the last line, she picked up her quill.

Dear Eddie,

Don't worry. I'll speak to Irene and tell her you really are a lousy letter writer, and I'm perfectly happy with "Edgar sends his love."

I'm sorry I've been out of touch; work is overwhelming. Mr. Crouch says he's never seen so many trials, and if this keeps up, we're going to have to start trying wizards who are accused of the same crimes together. Please be careful, Edgar; the stories of what the Death Eaters are doing are terrifying.

Yes, I'll come. No, I haven't forgotten that Sunday is your anniversary. Yes, I'd be happy to watch the kids. I assume you're planning a surprise, and I shouldn't say anything to Irene about the visit? Tell Christopher Auntie 'Melia is looking forward to reading "The Ugly Duckling" again. Tell Anna that her daddy is butchering the name of a character from a famous Muggle movie, which he would know if he ever bothered to take Muggle Studies as his brilliant sister advised. I can't believe Irene is letting you get away with that—does she know? I do need some news for her in my next letter.

I had lunch with Marion on Saturday, and she said Richard was very excited about the baby. She looks great, and the Healers say everything is going well. I can't wait for January 29th!

See you next weekend,

Love, Amelia

()()()()

Amelia settled Anna more comfortably on her lap. Irene had cooked an excellent supper, and there just wasn't room for Anna's elbow in her stomach. Edgar had retreated to his study, and Irene was getting Christopher ready for bed. Anna had already had her bath and was dressed in a purple sleeper with unicorns. It looked like their horns were charmed to glow, a built-in nightlight.

"Daddy says you're talking up a storm. Let's practice, okay?"

"O-kay!"

"Aun-tee A-me-li-a," she said slowly.

Anna frowned.

"That's me. Aun-tee A-me-li-a."

Anna watched her mouth carefully.

Amelia tapped her niece's chest. "You're Anna."

"Anna!"

Amelia tapped her own chest. "I'm Aun-tee A-me-li-a."

"Unca," Anna said confidently.

"No, that's Uncle Richard. I'm—"

"Unca Wich! Bis-cut!"

Amelia laughed. Oh, it was good to have another girl in the family! She could just imagine her brother's face when she announced their niece had dubbed him "uncle witch."

Anna smiled back at her, but Amelia shook her head.

"Uncle is a name for boys, but I'm a girl, like you. Aun-tee A-me-li-a."

"Bis-cut," Anna demanded.

Why, that little—Richard had bribed her with biscuits to learn his name! No doubt Edgar had been in on it too, considering his crack about "Auntie Am." Well, two could play that game. She set Anna on her feet.

"Just a minute, love, Auntie Amelia has to get something."

"Bis-cut?"

"No, it's not a biscuit. Something better." Amelia Summoned her overnight bag.

"Toy?"

"Not this time, love." She'd been saving these for bedtime tomorrow, when she expected tears from the children at the absence of their mother. But tomorrow's problems could wait for tomorrow. Amelia unwrapped a Fizzing Whizbee and resettled Anna on her lap.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" She held it up.

"Thweeth!"

"Yes, this is a very special sweet. Taste it." It was much too large for Anna to eat, so Amelia held it to her mouth as she sucked greedily. Anna's weight lifted, and the toddler's eyes rounded to saucers. Amelia pulled the sweet away and dodged the grasping hand.

"Aun-tee A-me-li-a."

Anna caught on at once and gave it a go. "On-am."

Amelia frowned. That sounded a little too much like "Aunt Am" for her taste. Anna's eager face started to crumple.

"Oh, it's okay, love. It's a hard word for a little girl. Too many vowels, I reckon." Once again, she allowed Anna to suck on the treat until she levitated. Irene was an only child, so Amelia was the children's only aunt. The Amelia part wasn't really necessary.

"Aun-tee."

"Aun-tee."

"Aun-tee." Amelia wanted to be sure.

"Aun-tee, thweeth!"

Amelia laughed and complied, pulling away when she felt Anna levitate. But the little girl wouldn't let go and kept her mouth firmly attached to the dissolving ball, even as Amelia pulled her hand down. By the time Edgar walked into the room, his daughter was floating upside down, and Amelia was collapsed in giggles on the settee.

Edgar Vanished the sweet, and Amelia caught her sticky niece.

"Aun-tee!" Anna said proudly.

"Yes, that's your Auntie Am."

Anna shook her head and pointed for clarification. "Aun-tee! Thweeth!"

Edgar raised his eyebrows. "You hate the nickname that much, that you'd rather be Auntie Sweets?"

"It's better than Uncle Witch," she gasped, holding the stitch in her side. Merlin, it had been a long week—a long month, a long summer—and she was tired.

Edgar laughed too. "That it is. Come on, Bones, it's time to go night-night."

That set her off again—she was hopelessly out of control. "Edgar, that's awful! You can't call her that."

"It's her name."

"It's—it's—a dreadful—nickname—for a—girl!"

"She likes it, don't you, Bones?"

Anna leaned her head against her father's chest and smiled.

"Nite-nite, Aun-tee."

Amelia's laughter stopped at once as the pain in her side spread up to squeeze her heart. "Goodnight, love. Auntie loves you."

There was a rapid succession of thuds and Christopher appeared. "Auntie 'Melia, you said you'd read 'bout the ugly duck."

"So I did. Let's go, darling." Amelia took his warm hand in hers and followed Edgar and Anna up the stairs.

Someone to love, indeed.

()()()()

February 1980

Amelia sorted through the paperwork on her desk, placing it in piles by date this time. It didn't really accomplish anything, but she looked productive.

Two months, one week, and three days. That's how long since Edgar and his family were killed—murdered. Two months, one week, and three days. Amelia paused with her hand over the last stack. Was she going from oldest to newest or newest to oldest? She thought about this for a moment and then gathered the stacks together and started over.

Two months, one week, and three days, and this was the worst birthday ever. How foolish she had been last spring, envying Edgar because of the timing of his birth! She didn't care if he always had the most visitors and the best parties and the most fun; she just wanted him here. Him, and Christopher, and Anna, and Irene . . . .

Christmas had been a blur; all Amelia really remembered was the first snowfall, when she was digging in the hall cupboard for her wellies and found Christopher's and Anna's presents instead.

It was the first day of work she'd missed in more than fifteen years. Except for the—that.

Amelia glared at a memo with today's date. Terrible, awful, dreadful birthday. How could she possibly celebrate ever again, when Edgar would never have another one? Never feel the rain again, never see the sun, never hug his children or meet—

"Amelia? Amelia, this just came for you."

She accepted the envelope from the department secretary and her heart leaped. Richard's handwriting. Marion was overdue by four days. Was everything okay?

Amelia,

She's here! Mum and baby are doing great. Come as soon as you can.

R.

()()()()

Amelia stepped out of the Floo into Richard and Marion's kitchen. The house was silent, so she tiptoed down the hall towards the master bedroom. Peeking around the door, she saw Richard and Marion asleep in bed and a tiny pink bundle in a bassinet beside Marion. Amelia shook her brother gently.

"Wha'? Oh, Amelia." Richard rubbed his eyes and gave a jaw-popping yawn. "Sorry, we were up most of the night. Come meet your new niece."

Amelia ignored the longing for her old niece, sat in the rocking chair by the window (it was raining), and waited for Richard to bring her the baby. She stirred faintly as he transferred her, one tiny fist escaping the blanket. Amelia caught it with her finger, and the baby grabbed hold, sleeping on.

"Richard, she's perfect," Amelia whispered, taking in the smooth skin, rosebud mouth, and fuzzy blonde hair. "What's her name?"

"Susan," he said, and she raised her eyes to meet his wet ones. "Susan Michaela."

Amelia jerked, and it was only the presence of the sleeping newborn in her arms that restrained her wail. It was their middle names; Amelia Susan and Edgar Michael.

"That's—that's a beautiful name. She's beautiful."

"We think so," Richard admitted, smiling and wiping his eyes with thumb and forefinger.

Baby Susan stirred again, and Amelia instinctively started the rocker. This was the best birthday ever. For the first time in two months, one week, and three days, she began to hope she would always have more someones to love.

a/n: This was written for My Dear Professor McGonagall's Sibling Rivalry Competition Round Two for Amelia and Edgar Bones, but the kids stole the show :) Prompts that I used: lake, letter, spring, mother, flower, envy, selfishness. Edgar's nickname for his daughter is a shout-out to my own dad, who has called me Bones since I was about three. I have no idea why; unlike Anna, it's not my name (although Dad did try to convince me once it was German for my middle name). I was a tiny kid, but I don't think I was that skinny!

I've updated pretty much every week since I started posting here in May, but I'll be out of town for the next week or so and then working on a novel length fic, so this is the last update you'll see from me for a month or two. But don't worry, I'm still writing!

Kudos to my Chief Beta Officer vancabreuniter :) Her Percy/Fred entry will be up soon, and be sure to check out the rest of the entries, as well (especially if you like Weasleys :D)!