Francis Pepper had woken early that Sunday, worried about his two sons. They had been dead to the world still as Francis sat downstairs in the kitchen watching the neighbour's cat sniff round their garden until it found the Sphinx poo on Claire's roses, and sped out of the garden like it had been shot. Francis chuckled to himself. The Muggle's cat now believed a sphinx lived in the Pepper household, and he doubted it'd be back in a hurry to pee.

By the time he'd finished his cup of tea, two sleepy teenagers had rolled out of bed, and he could hear them bumbling about upstairs getting ready. They were both always excited and unsure about going to visit St Mungo's, just as he was. They didn't get the chance quite so much these days with being at school, so Francis tried to make the minimum fuss and let the boys choose when to go.

When he was mid way through his second they both rolled into the kitchen, dressed, though Ambrose's hair was on end, and Tim needed to polish the lenses of his glasses and do his shoelaces up. Smiling at their reflection in the kitchen window, Francis turned and gave them each a hug.

Less than an hour later the trio were ascending the stairs to the fourth floor, armed with a record player. Francis carrying the bottom, Ambrose the bell and Tim a set of records under his arm.
"Hellooooooo!" Ambrose called through the narrow end of the bell and received a filthy look from his younger brother, who was intently watching the healers.
"Ambrose..." Francis chastised in a laid back way, his hands full.
"Sorry Dad." Ambrose replied, through the horn and then, realising he'd amplified his voice, lowered it and blushed.

Setting down the record player on one of the chairs in the corridor of the fourth floor just down from the room Claire had spent the last nine months in, he instructed both boys to wait outside. Last thing they needed was for Claire to be having a bad day, and if so, the last thing she needed were her two children staring wide eyed at her or getting upset.

Seeing there was a healer in the room, he knocked politely before stepping inside, recognising Viv the moment he stepped inside. Claire didn't remember him from one day to the next, so she wouldn't notice if she was a new healer today, yesterday or last week. Every day the healers were new.
"Good morning." He greeted both of them politely. "We came to visit, but if its a bad time, we can come back in a while." He asked.

The last two weeks on the Fourth Floor had been busy for Vivienne Thorpe. In addition to her usual rounds at the wards, she was now assigned to a long-term patient who had been the victim of a memory charm gone disastrous-- Claire Pepper did not remember her Healers or even her family, as each day began. It was both depressing and infuriating.

"And would you prefer tea or juice today?" It was a trivial question: a waitress's concern, although Vivienne knew better than that. Every single day since she had been given this patient's folder, Viv had conversed with and taken care of the unfortunate witch. It always began in a muddle. Questions, fragments of what might have been memories, more questions. Today had been relatively straightforward. Claire had been told, through a string of questions and answers, about her family. She was told every single day and rarely reacted the same two days in a row.

The question of drinks helped Vivienne gauge moods: the patient's reactions and emotions were not always similar but she had certain consistencies. There were emerging patterns. For instance, tea was common. On days when she drank tea, Claire Pepper had less volatile preferences in general... on these days, she would rarely look to the Healers and ask, "Do I like biscuits?" or something similar. They would have to be more careful when she asked for pumpkin juice or water, and of course there were days when she would be in no mood to be asked about anything at all.

Claire seemed confused by Vivienne's question now, but a good sort of confused, "Hot tea, of course," the woman replied as though it had been an absurd enquiry to make, "Very hot." It was taken as a good thing when Mrs.Pepper seemed sure of herself but whether this indicated a tendency towards the days before her accident was unknown. Her husband, Viv thought, would know better than anyone else.

A little while later, Claire had her hot cup of tea (with lemon, as she wouldn't drink it any other way apparently). It was a pleasant Sunday morning and a window had been opened, letting in the spring breeze. The atmosphere was calm. Vivienne would spend a little longer talking to her patient before she left to see the short-term wards. Their conversations were repetitive... always a cycle of questions about her friends or family or even about the Ministry.

Vivienne gently touched Claire's hand as she informed her that Mr.Pepper and the boys would be visiting one of these days, "They'll be along to see you any day now. You have a very loving family," she said with a kind smile. Claire only nodded though Viv saw the thought in her eyes, which on worse days she had expressed aloud-- "But I don't even know them, I can't even remember them."

The timing was coincidental; a knock came at the room door and the Healer looked over her shoulder to see Francis Pepper stepping in. He greeted them courteously, "We came to visit, but if it's a bad time, we can come back in a while."

Vivienne welcomed him with a friendly nod, "Hello Mr.Francis. I was just speaking to Claire about you," she looked back into her patient's wide eyes, and encouragingly said: "Why don't you speak with your husband while I go out to fetch the children, Claire?"

"Hello Mr.Francis. I was just speaking to Claire about you,"

Vivienne was sat with Claire, and Francis clocked the teacup nearby and gave a reassured half smile.

"Why don't you speak with your husband while I go out to fetch the children, Claire?" Healer Thorpe suggested to his wife, who looked at Francis like she needed to put glasses on and then nodded thoughtfully.

"Ambrose and Timothy are just outside, I asked them to wait." Francis told Vivienne softly, and stepped forward to take a seat the other side of Claire, smiling warmly.
"It is good to see you." He told his wife truthfully. "How do you feel today?" Francis asked, not reaching for his wife's hand, but being very careful to give her space to work out how she felt about meeting her husband afresh again.
"Good." Claire replied, mirroring his smile such that his heart sang. "You're my husband?" She asked. Francis gave a nod, and Claire's eyes dropped to her lap.
"She was just telling me about my husband…" Francis watched as his wife paused, tapping her fingers three times on the table beside the teacup, and then with a look of triumph on her face, just as the door opened again, Claire turned to him and exclaimed,
"Francis! Your name is Francis!" She tapped her hand on the table three times again.

His smile couldn't be smothered, whether Claire had been told that by Vivienne two seconds before he'd arrived or four, he didn't care, his wife had just remembered his name, unprompted by him.

Ambrose shuffled his feet outside in the corridor, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and sweater arms pushed up his arms. He'd put the sweater on because his mum had bought it for him the Christmas before last, as something a little more smart for visiting family. He hoped she'd remember it somehow.

"Do you reckon Mum'll be having one of her crazy days?" He asked his younger brother, who sat beside the record player quietly, watching the healers go back and forth. Ambrose understood his brother rather wanted to be a healer now since their mum had been admitted to St Mungo's but he occasionally found Tim's preoccupation irritating. Ambrose wasn't able to detach himself from emotions so easily.

"Don't call her crazy." Tim told him quietly.

"You know what I mean though?" Ambrose shrugged.

"Still, don't call her that."

"I didn't!" Ambrose snapped hastily, stopping his shuffling and staring at his brother with a frown. "I wouldn't call Mum crazy. It wasn't what I meant, you know what I meant!" His hands screwed into fists in his pockets and he glared at his younger brother who he loved absolutely. Unfortunately the two of them left alone in a stressful situation quickly inflamed.

Fortunate then, that the door beside them opened, but instead of their father, it was a woman in healer's robes who neither of the boys recognised. However, their father had mentioned there was a new healer looking after their mother. The heated conversation ceased immediately, but Ambrose's deep frown did not.

"Can we go see our Mum?" Ambrose asked, his tone decidedly sulky.

Vivienne glanced back at Mr. and Mrs. Pepper briefly before she left the room. For a moment, she tried to imagine how her patient felt-- the nervousness, the uncertainty. And then she opened the door, looking to her left at the two boys waiting to see their mother. She closed the door behind her and smiled at them. The younger one was sat beside a heavy-looking record player and the other was stood up. Both pairs of eyes shifted to look at her as soon as she was in the corridor.

"Can we go see our Mum?" Ambrose Pepper asked. Vivienne recognized and could tell them apart from the pictures in Claire's room, as well as the notes on her personal file. The Healer could sense the tension between the children. They seemed apprehensive about seeing their parent but neither appeared to be jumpy; that was good.

"You may," Viv replied genially before glancing at record player beside Timothy, "Let me handle that."

She took her wand out and gestured swiftly at the objects, wingardium leviosa. Then, giving the children another glance, she said: "Your mother is in a fairly stable mood today. Just follow me in and you'll see." With the record player and horn trailing behind the three of them, she opened the door again.

Vivienne's eyebrows rose when she heard Claire Pepper exclaim: "Francis! Your name is Francis!" It was said in a pleased voice.

Nimbly, she stood aside to let the little Peppers in. "Your sons are here,"  Viv said as Mr.Pepper turned around to see them enter. He was smiling and, much to Viv's amusement, looked like the happiest wizard alive. He was probably the happiest one on this floor, at any rate.

Dad looked pleased. He normally looked so very sad and pretended to be happy when they all visited mum, Ambrose thought as he followed Tim in. Even mum looked happy, though she stared at both of them with her mouth half open as if Ambrose had decided to spike his hair into a Mohican and she was about to tell him in no uncertain terms was he going to keep it that way.

"Hi Mum!" Ambrose greeted brightly, echoed by Tim's greeting. His younger brother sidestepped to sit down, losing his nerve it seemed. Ambrose paused and then stepped over, bending to place a kiss gently on his mother's cheek before sitting down with worried eyes.

The Pepper's waited considerately for Claire to look from the photographs which decorated the room in frames to help aid her memory, to the boys and back again. Ambrose saw his mum look to the healer, and to his dad, before asking.
"My children?" her hands knotted together.

Ambrose felt his heart sink just a little, but reminded himself sternly that it was an improvement not to stare at them and ask them over and over who they were.
"Yep." Ambrose replied softly. "That's us." He glanced to the Healer.

"Are you the new healer Dad mentioned?" Ambrose blushed. "Sorry, we, er should have asked. Thanks for helping with the record player." He gave a friendly smile to the healer, colour rising in his cheeks.

"Are you the new healer Dad mentioned?" Ambrose Pepper asked, his face a little red,"Sorry, we, er should have asked. Thanks for helping with the record player."

Vivienne glanced to the record player she had set aside on a low table in the room and then looked back to the boy, "You're welcome. I've been getting to know your mother for quite some time now," she felt Mrs.Pepper's eyes on her briefly, "and it's good to finally meet you boys. My name is Vivienne Thorpe but you can call me Viv or Vivi," she addressed both him and Timothy Pepper, who was looking quite shy at the moment.

They appeared to be quite nice boys. Not the boisterous, nagging sort who would rattle on about nonsense whenever they felt nervous in the hospital. Vivienne knew that Mr.Pepper and Healer Foley had decided to use Claire's maternal instincts to help her progress with the memories-- if they were lucky, today might produce something for her to work with.

Her attention shifted to Claire, "Your sons are very thoughtful; they appear to have brought some music for your listening pleasure." Her tone of voice was casual and relaxed. She had to maintain a kind of conversational mood for Claire to follow: awkwardness would not help them along.

Giving the patient's husband an inquiring look, she gestured to the records in Timothy's arms: "Why don't we put something on now?" The Healer hoped that they had brought something Claire would recognize. Songs had not been part of the memory cycles they had been going through for the last two weeks and Vivienne wasn't quite sure about her taste in music.

Francis realised he should have probably conducted introductions formally, but Ambrose had leapt in. Claire's remembering had wrong-footed Francis. He was also very proud as the boys appeared to be on the best behaviour, even if Tim had hardly uttered a word and looked a little out of his depth. Francis's gaze lingered on his younger son, concerned, until Viv commanded his attention

"Your sons are very thoughtful; they appear to have brought some music for your listening pleasure. Why don't we put something on now?"

"Yes, of course." Francis stood and busied himself ensuring the record player was together. "Tim, bring the records over will you?" He called to his younger son, tapping the horn with his wand lightly to secure it. Tim stepped forward numbly and held out the records. Francis flipped through a few, pausing over one that had inexplicably got mixed up. Guiltily he realised he must have taken the record out the day before thinking about Friday evening with Gabrielle where they'd danced.

Selecting a Celestina Warbeck album, Francis slid it out of the cover and onto the turntable, setting it off. The voice crackled and then sang out from the horn. Francis looked over his shoulder, the album sleeve still in his hands, the rest of the records in Tim's arms still.

Claire gave them all the usual look of 'why are you all staring at me?' and the three family members quickly averted their gaze, Tim giving an almighty sigh at the music, which was undoubtedly brining back memories in him, retreating back to the chair he'd just stood up from and hugged the records to his chest glumly.

Francis let out a whistle along with the melody, and handed the sleeve to his wife.
"Been a while since I listened to it." He admitted to Viv sheepishly. "Didn't seem right to." He shrugged.
"Your sort of music?" He asked Viv politely, a crooked smile. Francis had never been a huge fan, but he'd become used to hearing his wife play the record.
"Ambrose, what do you listen to at school? You told me the Weirdsisters are retro now." Francis asked, trying to make conversation to take the attention off Claire who was examining the cover in her hands and smiling distantly, very quietly humming along.

Celestina Warbeck's voice felt like it was from a different era. It was, of course. Vivienne's mother would listen to Warbeck sometimes and it made her feel a little nostalgic; like drinking spiced tea on an autumn evening. But it was a spring morning and all of that seemed much too long ago now. Viv leaned against the wall, trying not to intrude too obviously in the family circle but making very sure that Claire was aware of her presence. It would be reassuring.

"Been a while since I listened to it," Mister Pepper addressed the Healer after handing his wife the record sleeve, "Didn't seem right to." As much sense as that made, it sounded very sad coming from him. "Your sort of music?" He asked Vivienne and she quickly tensed her jaw, suppressing what would have been a very inappropriate snort.

Instead she bit her lower lip and shook her head: "Afraid not. I do know this tune though, danced to it once." Her eyes lingered for a while on the record player but she swept away the memories associated with Warbeck's music. While Francis Pepper spoke to his son, Viv shifted her gaze to her patient. Claire was holding the record jacket, tracing the images on it with her fingers. Her touch was delicate, like her faraway smile.

"Ambrose, what do you listen to at school? You told me the Weirdsisters are retro now." It seemed almost bizarre, to be discussing music so mundanely in this room. But it was working-- the steady conversations, Mrs.Pepper's gentle humming, the cooling breeze coming in from outside.

Nothing disturbed the dynamic, at least not yet. Vivienne wasn't sure if she was pleased with this or if a part of her was on-edge, watchful; ready to snap into action. But she had to appear calm and smiled sweetly when Claire looked up from the object in her hands, that distant look in those eyes slowly winding back into the present.

"Ambrose, what do you listen to at school? You told me the Weirdsisters are retro now."

Ambrose stopped staring and blinked,
"What, er, yeah, they are. Three Owl Standard, Dad, that's who everyone likes. Though people are listening to more and more Muggle pop music, when they can get it in a form they can play at Hogwarts anyhow." He shrugged, "Not really Mum's thing."

He glanced over to his younger brother, who was unusually quiet, usually the know-it-all of the three Pepper men.
"Y'alright Tim?" He asked as quietly as he could.
"Fine." Time replied without hesistation, though Ambrose could see his younger brother was gripping the records like they were going to leap away, to the point his hands were bending the covers.

Ambrose glanced from his Tim to his Dad, Vivienne and finally his Mum who was humming along to the music. Reaching out, he placed a heavy hand on Tim's shoulder, and hissed
"Keep it together." before squeezing his brother's shoulder roughly.

Picking up on what the healer had just said, he chirped up,
"Didn't Mum used to dance to one of those songs, like er -" he wasn't sure what to call Viv "er... Viv said she had?" He hopped up and peered over his mother's shoulder. The familiar scent of her hung about her but was beneath the smell of St Mungo's - linen, potion and cleaning solution. Spotting the track, Ambrose darted back to the record player and attempted to select it.

"What, er, yeah, they are. Three Owl Standard, Dad, that's who everyone likes. Though people are listening to more and more Muggle pop music, when they can get it in a form they can play at Hogwarts anyhow. Not really Mum's thing."

"No not really," Francis agreed, and smiled at Claire, "we could leave this with you if you like it?" He asked his wife, settling down beside her while the boys exchanged a few words. "Worth a try?" He asked Viv suddenly, turning to look up at the healer.

"She's got a beautiful voice." Claire spoke from beside, still studying the cover, turning it over to look at the tracklisting thoughtfully.

"Didn't Mum used to dance to one of those songs, like er ... er... Viv said she had?" Ambrose added suddenly, stumbling over what he should call his mother's healer. It took him a second to jump behind his mother and work out the track he recalled, before upsetting the needle and searching for it on the record.

"Not that one, yes, that's the one." Francis helped as Ambrose dropped the needle on the track before, catching the tail end. Looking back to his wife, he felt a pang of guilt about dancing with Gabrielle, extending his hand to Claire.
"Care to dance, Mrs Pepper?" He asked.

His wife looked at him without recognition, frowning, before putting aside the album cover and looking to Viv.
"Do I like to dance?" She asked "Am I any good at it?"
"Yes on both counts." Francis smiled at her, hand still extended, "Why not find out?"
"Fine!" Claire exclaimed, a flicker of bad temper surfacing, but Francis tried to ignore it as his wife got to her feet, following his lead a little clumsily at first, and then like her humming, the steps seemed to come.

Then as soon as it had happened, it fell away. Claire let go of his hands and shook her head, returning to her chair and curling in it slightly, looking at him, her expression muddled.
"No, I don't like it." She told them, and Francis felt his heart feel heavy again and tried to hide his disappointment.
"Ok, that's... fine." He told Claire, working out how he felt about it himself.

"What's the point?" Tim asked from behind, still gripping the records, "She's never going to remember tomorrow." Francis turned to see his son's glassy eyes.
"Tim..."

With a bang the records dropped from his youngest's arms, and he bolted from the room. Ambrose scrambled to follow.
"Dad, let me, just don't let Mum get upset." He heard Tim's older brother say as he scampered from the room in pursuit.

At a loss, Francis turned back to Claire and Viv, and straightened his expression.
"Not to worry, my dear, you tried and that's all I can ask." He told his wife and patted her head fondly,
"He's upset because I can't remember." Claire stated, her eyes on the door.

Defeated, Francis looked up from his wife and let out a sigh.
"No, its not your fault, Claire, its not." But she flinched away from his hand, leaving it outstretched inches from her hair.
"Merlin, this ... perhaps this was a bad idea." He murmured to Viv, barely able to hide the fact he too was close to giving up out of frustration. The optimism sucked clean out of the room.

Vivienne Thorpe felt like she was watching a tiny tragedy unfold. There was always one on this floor. She watched as Francis Pepper asked his wife to dance with him, watched her testily agree- perhaps feeling rushed by this effort to oblige a husband she had known for less than an hour. It must be unnerving to think that there is someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Viv's grey gaze followed the estranged couple: first observing their clumsy feet and then shifting upwards to gauge the expression on Claire's face.

It was a painful process. The Healer felt like intervening and warning Mister Pepper that this might be a bad idea, this dancing. She could envisage the turn of emotions- hesitancy, recognition, intimacy. And then fear. Because Claire Pepper could barely remember anything and too much familiarity was frightening; it heightened one's awareness of that great gap of nothingness in their memory. Just as Vivienne thought this, the patient pulled away from her husband and retreated into her armchair, pose defensive. The music was left to play on, undanced.

No. I don't like it." Claire's voice was tiny. Mister Pepper's look of disappointment was subtle, and he appeared in control of himself when he spoke: Ok, that's... fine."

And then, breaking the recorder's more gentle melody, his youngest son started. "What's the point? She's never going to remember!" The records in his arms went crashing to the ground and he fled the room, followed almost instantly by Ambrose Pepper. The elder left with a few words. Vivienne's eyes tensed as she watched them- she cursed herself inwardly, wishing she had kept a better eye on the boys. The situation was too precarious for that small one.

Claire was speaking, "He's upset because I can't remember." This brought the Healer's gaze back to her patient and she slowly crossed the space of the room towards the chair, stopping beside Mister Pepper while he tried to reassure his wife that nothing had been her fault. The patient didn't respond well and he murmured lowly, "Merlin, this... perhaps this was a bad idea."

Vivienne had a pained, calm look on her face when she looked back at him. He was clearly distraught but as far as she was concerned, this had not been a failure at all. There had been no outbursts from the patient, no potent anger, no harsh words. Today, Viv could comprehend her patient's behaviour pattern. "Not at all, Mister Pepper. Perhaps you would do well to take a seat yourself- you look tired," she said in a soft voice before turning away from him and going to kneel down beside Claire's armchair. While it was important to ensure Mister Pepper was alright, his wife remained her primary object.

The witch was still staring at the floor, deep in thought and curled up in her seat. Viv touched her shoulder gently at first and then, unhurried, lowered her hand to hold over Claire's, "They're just as confused as you are. We're all learning together." It was better to speak in straightforward, moderate tones. Emotional voices confused the patients.

"Are you alright to continue today, Claire? We can stop at any time. I'll make more tea and we can just sit," Vivienne squeezed her hand and then lowered her head a little, trying to catch Mrs.Pepper's eye. They finally met gazes and the patient shook her head, almost bashfully. "I don't know. But more tea would be good," she said. Viv smiled understandingly and withdrew her hand, standing straight.

"Well why don't you stay here and rest a little while? I'll go and brew something again," Vivienne told her. It would probably be best to have a word with the little Peppers outside anyway.

"What's the point? She's never going to remember tomorrow."
"Tim…"

"Dad, let me, just don't let Mum get upset." Ambrose bolted from the room after his younger brother, who had dropped the records and run a few seconds before.

The door swung shut behind Ambrose, and he scampered down the hall in pursuit, almost running into a green robed healer carrying a potion, skidding to a halt, apologising and spotting Tim vanishing towards the stairs, but didn't see whether he went up or down.

Both of them knew their way around St Mungo's to a point - it had been three seasons since their mother had been admitted, and Ambrose stopped in the corridor and exhaled, his cheeks ruddy, and slowly looked up at the ceiling.

He couldn't keep running after Tim, as much as he loved his younger brother, he'd promised Dad that they'd make an extra effort to keep together in front of Mum for her treatment and Tim had just ruined it all. Concern reduced to anger, and Ambrose's hands formed fists, before he turned back, realising he was stood in the middle of the corridor.

Looking up, he saw Viv appear from the doorway to his mother's room, and dropped his fists, his feet slowly carrying him back to her and the door as he exhaled.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry - he promised." Ambrose explained to Viv a little incoherently at first. "We promised Dad we'd hold it together in front of Mum, that we wouldn't do… well, that." Ambrose gestured in the direction of the stairs where Tim had last been seen.

"I don't know where he's gone - probably the tea room. I'd go after him, but I'm annoyed with him now. Is Mum alright?" He shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped like a true teenager.

As Vivienne stepped out of Mrs.Pepper's room, she looked to her right and spotted Ambrose Pepper in the distance- he was walking towards her slowly. She frowned a little, realizing that he had not been able to track down his younger brother. Reaching her, the eldest Pepper son immediately started to speak:

"Sorry, I'm really sorry - he promised. We promised Dad we'd hold it together in front of Mum, that we wouldn't do… well, that." Ambrose indicated towards the stairs to the fifth floor and Viv's grey eyes followed; her frown relaxed as he went on: "I don't know where he's gone - probably the tea room. I'd go after him, but I'm annoyed with him now. Is Mum alright?"

The boy was an adolescent mixture of anger, worry and confusion. Vivienne looked down at him with a rueful smile and gently leaned against the door she had just closed behind her: "Oui.Your mother's fine, Ambrose. She will be shaken for a little while but her condition is not any better or worse for Tim's outburst." She looked towards the staircase and her smile faded slightly. They would have to go fetch the poor thing. Claire... Claire would forget all of this. But her boys would remember for years, if not the rest of their lives.

"Let's give you and your brother a moment to calm down," Viv murmured softly, "Take our time getting to the tearoom. This has all been very difficult for you two." For a moment, she remembered her younger brothers in France- they were all grown up now but there was a time when the two were a vulnerable pair. A close but tempestuous relationship: "I'm sure that Tim is a little angry with himself as well."