Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Rebecca. I don't plan on making any money off of this.

Author's Note: All right, I decided to try something different with this chapter, which I hope you all like. I also utilized the songs more in this chapter, and will continue to do so throughout the remaining chapters when I can. I'll try and get the next chapter up as quickly as possible, as it's the one I've been looking forward to writing this whole time. Just hope real life doesn't get too much in the way so this will be possible. I had some pictures, but those don't appear to be working, so I'll have to have links in my chapter. My apologies. Anyway, enjoy.

Songs for this Chapter:

"Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac

"Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, July 6, 1998

Harry,

Independence Day in America is definitely something I think Britain should aspire to. I've only seen fireworks a few times in my life, and naturally the magical ones are certainly better, but seeing so many of them and what muggles can do with them… It's truly beautiful.

Today was my first day at work. Minister Smith introduced me around to the other Aurors, everyone from the older, more seasoned veterans to the new recruits. The veterans I'm much younger than, and I'm the same age as most of the recruits. It's not like it is at our Ministry. Obviously, politics seems to be a male-dominated area, but at least there were nearly equal levels of female and male Aurors. Here, that isn't the case. I'd say it's about 95% male. I don't suspect this should be a problem, though.

I'll have a difficult time remembering all of these names, but I'm sure that I'll catch on soon enough.

I hope your job with the Aurors is going well. I haven't heard much else by way of news about any of the other escaped Death Eaters. Let me know if I need to write anything down by way of a statement against them.

Anyway, I should get going. I need to go to bed early tonight.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, July 9, 1998

Rebecca,

It's dreadfully boring without you here. I just thought I'd let you know that before I said any of the other cursory things you're supposed to say in a letter.

I'll also admit that Potter, Weasley, and Granger are starting to grow on me. But if you tell them that, I'll deny it to their faces before coming across the Atlantic and personally hexing you.

Seriously, though, Weasley and Granger are sickening together. And Potter and Weasley's sister. It's awful the way they fawn over each other constantly.

Now that I've gotten my complaints out of the way, here's some good news: I've been offered a position in the Ministry. It's nothing glamorous. Looks like I'll be working with Lupin the Department of Magical Creatures. I'm working with the goblins, though. A bit ironic, I thought.

Potter tells me he thinks you're having problems with the American hooligans. I told him not to be dense.

Write back when you can, and by that I mean as soon as you get this. I might eat my own brains for some sort of intellectual sustenance.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, July 10, 1998

Draco,

I got in late last night and was too tired to write. Here's hoping you didn't eat out all of your brains so you can still read this.

I led my first raid last night, which is about all I can say about it. It went well enough, though it did take a bit of concentration not to think that I was back in the midst of the battle. But I was fine.

I'm really glad to hear that you got a position in the Ministry. I knew Kingsley couldn't overlook you forever. I'm sure that means your N.E.W.T. scores came out. If you care to share, I'd like to read what you got. Seriously though, congratulations. You'll get promoted in no time.

Tell Harry not to worry about me. I've gained the Aurors' trust for the most part. Defeating them in duels helps, I suppose. But at least they're starting to understand how I work now, just like I'm getting to know them.

Must go. I have other letters to write. This is not saying you're unimportant, but I can't have everyone else thinking I've spent more time on other people's letters over theirs.

Take care,

Rebecca

Letter from Ron to Rebecca, July 11, 1998

Becca,

Hermione told me I needed to practice my handwriting. So here it goes. Hope you can read this, at least.

George's joke shop is doing a lot better. Ginny's decided to help him out until she heads back to Hogwarts, so I took up Kingsley on his offer to join the Aurors. I couldn't be happier.

We're all still living at the Burrow. Hermione's been in contact with her parents, though. They're slowly coming round. I think things'll be better soon.

Also, I wanted to know what American hot dogs were like. Send me one if you can?

Cheers,

Ron

Package & Letter from Rebecca to Ron, July 12, 1998

Ron,

Here's your congratulatory hot dog straight from a street vendor. I'm happy to hear you're an Auror now. You'll make a great one.

Love,

Rebecca

[Package: a hot dog]

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, July 13, 1998

Becca,

Ron's really grateful for the hot dog. I can't believe he actually asked for that. Boys.

Anyway, he was right. My parents are really receptive to everything, and they are coming around. They offered for me to come back and live with them until school starts again. I'm packing my things as soon as I'm done writing to you. I'm taking the box with me, since Harry and Ron are going to be living here for the indeterminate future. I can always make another box if necessary.

I just wanted to thank you again for putting my situation into perspective when I came back from restoring my parents' memories. You're truly a great friend, in case you didn't know.

I also can't wait to head back to Hogwarts, but I'm also a little frightened as well. McGonagall says that they're working as quickly as possible to restore Hogwarts from the damage it took during the battle. It should be ready by September 1. You'll have to give me notes about N.E.W.T.s when it gets closer.

I'll write later. I need to get packing. Hope everything is well in D.C.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, July 15, 1998

Hermione,

I'm so happy you're moving back to your parents'. I knew they would be receptive if you just explained everything to them in terms they could understand.

And you're more than welcome. It's what friends are for, after all. I'm glad I helped.

Things are hectic here. Lots of training, lots of practicing. I'm starting to explore D.C. when I have a spare few hours. You'd love the Smithsonian museums. I've started with the space and aviation museum and I'm already impressed. I'm going to work my way through all of them eventually. Then, it'll be onto the memorials.

D.C. is really historical, and I quite like it. Everyone here is a bit self-absorbed. I suppose that's what happens when you get the magical and muggle capital in one place. But their government is very close to the muggle government, much more so than our Ministry is with ours. I quite like that.

I've just been called back to the Ministry. Must go.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, July 17, 1998

Becca,

Draco keeps telling me I'm dense. While he's grown on me a bit (and if you tell him that, I'll deny it when he laughs in my face), I'm finding it's growing on my nerves. Are you sure everything is going well over there?

Also, I'm jealous that you sent Ron a street hot dog and didn't send me anything. Offended, really. Some cousin you are.

On the weekends, I've started going through Grimmauld Place, since Sirius left it to me. Still a bunch of scary stuff there, even after we cleaned it all out in the summer before our fifth year. I'm hoping it'll be habitable by the end of the year.

Things are going well with Ginny, even under the watchful eye of Mrs. Weasley. It's why I'm trying to clean the place out, you see. Well… I hope you don't take that the wrong way.

Hermione says you're busy. Do they have you on-call all the time? I hope you get some time to rest, at least.

Love,

Harry

Package & Letter from Rebecca to Harry, July 20, 1998

Harry,

Sorry, I was on a stake-out for about 24 hours. Hopefully the Coca-Cola Slurpee makes up for it. The muggles love it. And, I'll admit, I have a growing fondness for it.

And yes, everything is going well. I'm settling in nicely. My flat is a good size and fully-furnished. I don't even have to pay for it since it's the Ministry's property. I get enough free time to go and look at the Smithsonian museums for a few hours, like I told Hermione.

I wish you luck in tackling the monumental task that is cleaning Grimmauld Place. Merlin knows I wouldn't want to try that again.

And hopefully your cleaning it out will allow… for whatever you want it to allow between you and Ginny. No further comment in that regard.

I hope you're furiously blushing now.

You are.

You're welcome.

Rebecca

[Package: a Coke Slurpee]

Package & Letter from Rebecca to Draco, July 21, 1998

Draco,

I sent Ron and Harry something, and I figured you wouldn't want to be left out. It's like Firewhiskey with less fire. It's apparently the drink of choice for many Washingtonians, or so the man at the liquor store told me.

Apparently you have to be 21 to drink here. I'm now a proud owner of a magicked muggle identification card stating my age as 21 so that I might partake of these drinks.

I hope the position at the Ministry is treating you well. I suspect you're busy since I haven't heard from you in a while. Send your parents my greetings and love.

Rebecca

[Package: a bottle of Captain Morgan Rum]

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, July 23, 1998

Rebecca,

Thanks for the rum. My parents and I quite enjoyed it. Apparently muggles can make their fair share of liquor.

Everything is going well enough at the Ministry. I think they're using this position to test me, to see if I can take orders. I can, I just have a running dialogue in my head. Which I've been keeping to myself, so don't worry.

The Americans need to get their acts together about the drinking age. I'm sure people find ways around it anyway. 21. Honestly.

Mother and Father send their love in return. Mother wants to know if you have enough clothes. I told her you were probably swimming in them, with as much as she bought you last summer.

Draco

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, July 23, 1998

Becca,

Where's my souvenir?

Hermione

Package and Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, July 24, 1998

Hermione,

You're welcome.

Becca

[Package: an old edition of War & Peace]

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, July 27, 1998

Harry,

I have a favor to ask of you. And before you start trying to do your psychological reading of the situation, I ask that you just don't. I've sent a sealed envelope with a letter for Professor Snape in it. Please give it to him for me?

Thank you in advance.

Love,

Becca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, August 1, 1998

Becca,

I went to Hogwarts today after work since I know the professors started arriving today to start planning. The repairs to the castle are going really well. McGonagall thinks they'll be on-time for the start of the term next month.

I'm not going to analyze your situation. Here's what happened:

I went to see Professor Snape. He was setting up the Defense classroom to his liking. He wasn't pleased to see me, but he listened when I explained that you'd given me a letter for him. I handed it to him.

He reached for it and I thought he was going to take it for a moment. But the envelope and letter, everything, it turned to ash in my hand. After that, he told me to leave. So I did.

I'm really sorry, Becca.

Let me know if you need to talk.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, August 2, 1998

Harry,

Thanks for trying. That was about what I expected. I'm fine, but thank you for asking.

Love,

Becca

Rebecca, August 3, 1998

Rebecca had taken to traveling by the Metro to get places around D.C. It was a fairly quick method of travel, and she wanted to experience the city as muggles did. And it also let her focus on things other than work for once.

She didn't bother trying to hide her Dark Mark anymore, not as though she could. It was something that could only be covered with clothing, and wearing long sleeves here in the summer was torturous. Her scars she generally wore openly when she was at work, but she'd needed to in order to get any sort of respect from the other Aurors she worked with. Beating most of the veterans in duels had also helped solidify her seriousness. Few of them gave her issues anymore, though things were still a bit tense.

She stood on the Metro, holding onto the railing above her head. Today she wore one of her knee-length tan skirts, a light green t-shirt, and comfortable walking shoes. There was more exploring of the Smithsonian to do. She decided that today she deserved a trip to the National Zoo, which she was looking forward to.

A standing across the compartment had been watching her every so often for the past few minutes. Rebecca was hyper-aware of everyone in the compartment with her, but especially when people stared for too long. He was tall, lean, sandy-brown hair and ocean-blue eyes. Wearing a lightweight, black suit. Handsome enough. But handsome men could be dangerous, too.

So when he began making his way across the compartment toward her, Rebecca felt herself tensing, preparing for anything.

He smiled, flashing perfect teeth at her. "I'm sorry if my staring's made you uncomfortable," he said. "But I have to say, that's a really interesting tattoo you have."

Rebecca almost raised an eyebrow at him. But this was a simple muggle. He didn't know any better. And there wasn't a hint of a lie on his face.

"Thanks," Rebecca said shortly, looking away from him and out one of the windows.

"I'm Gavin Price," he said, reaching his free hand out to her.

"Rebecca Felan," she said, tentatively reaching forward and shaking his hand.

She realized she'd seen him riding this same route a few times over the past month. But he hadn't been watching her as intently as he had today. But she did recall him.

"Nice to finally meet you," he replied. "I've noticed you a few times, but I wasn't sure how to approach you."

"Well, compliments are always a decent method," she said with a shrug.

He chuckled. "You must have just moved here," he said. "I would have noticed you before. I ride this route nearly every day. Welcome to America."

"Thanks. I got in on the fourth. That was an experience."

Politeness, she decided. He didn't seem a threat so far. And she didn't want to stand out to many other people in the compartment, but that was proving difficult since they were the only ones talking.

"I bet it was," he said. "Fireworks are really magical, you know?"

Rebecca couldn't help but smirk. "They are."

"Where are you headed today?"

"The National Zoo," she answered.

"You'll love it," he said. "The pandas are an especially good attraction."

"I'll remember that, thanks," she said.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me about it over dinner?" Gavin asked, tilting his head forward hopefully.

Rebecca could feel all attention from the passengers in the compartment upon her. Even if they weren't trying to look as though they were paying attention, their body language told her that they were all ears.

"I… suppose that couldn't hurt," Rebecca said carefully.

Gavin flashed another smile. "Great. Here," he said, reaching into his front pocket. He withdrew a card and a pen, then leaned against the pole he hung from to scribble on the back before handing it to her.

"Meet me here at 8," he said. "Wear whatever you like—it's not too fancy. I'll look forward to it all day, Rebecca." Another smile.

"Me too," Rebecca said, looking at the card before glancing back up at him. "This should prove… interesting."

The train was slowing down, and Rebecca prepared herself to get off.

"It was nice meeting you, Gavin," she said, stepping away briskly.

He waved as she stepped off the Metro onto the platform to wait for her connecting train. Gods, did she just agree to a date with a complete muggle stranger?

She looked at his card, flipping it over for a clue as to his identity. At least the card had the same name. He appeared to be an attorney. She stowed the card in her bag. This was going to prove interesting, indeed.

Later that night, Rebecca stood outside of a building marked the same as the name on the back of the card. A man standing outside the door wearing a uniform smiled at her.

"Restaurant's upstairs on the roof, ma'am," he said, opening the door for her.

"Thank you," Rebecca replied, walking through the open door.

She took the elevator all the way up, smoothing out her black skirt and looking at her reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Her black and white blouse was form-fitting, but covered appropriately. The outfit wasn't too dressed-up, could do in many situations, she hoped.

A date. With a muggle attorney. Merlin, what had she gotten herself into?

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped outside to be greeted by the host.

"Hi, I'm looking for someone," Rebecca said, approaching the man. "Mr. Price?"

"Yes, he has a reservation for now," said the host. "He's already here. Please follow me." He smiled kindly and turned.

Rebecca followed him quickly, her slight heel keeping her from walking at her normal pace. But finally, they reached a table near the edge. Gavin Price stood up, wearing a slightly dressed-down version of what he had before, though the suit jacket was nowhere to be seen.

"Rebecca," he said, smiling and standing and moving to pull the seat out for her. The host left them with a little bow of his head.

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer the seat away from the edge," she said with a nervous smile.

"Of course," he said, moving around her quickly.

Immediately, Rebecca jerked her head around to watch him, but he didn't seem to notice. She took the seat he'd pulled out for her and sat. He moved to the one across from her.

"I should have asked if you were afraid of heights," he said, sitting down. "Sorry about that."

"They make me a bit nervous," she said. "I fell once when I was in school. Haven't had quite the same relationship with heights since then."

Gavin flashed his brilliant smile once more. "I can understand that," he said. "Now, feel free to order anything. It's all on me," he said, pressing a hand against his chest.

"Thank you," Rebecca said, taking up the menu and looking it over. "So, you're a solicitor."

"Excuse me?" Gavin asked.

Rebecca put the menu down. "I'm sorry. Attorney. Or lawyer."

"Yes," he said, seeming to settle down. "It's my first year practicing. I just passed the bar."

Rebecca nodded along, thankful that she was muggleborn and could at least follow that much of the conversation.

"What brings you to Washington?" he asked. "School? Job?"

"A job, actually," she said. "I'm… let me see. I don't really have an official title."

She hadn't thought of this, so she thought of something similar she could tell him.

"I'm a defense trainer," she said with a smile.

"Like martial arts?" he asked, leaning over the table.

She shrugged. "Something like that."

"Sounds more interesting than being an attorney," he said, picking up the menu, though he still wasn't looking at it. He didn't stop staring, and Rebecca shifted uncomfortably under his weight.

"It's long hours, but I enjoy it well enough," she said. "I work mainly with special forces, so the hours can be odd."

Half-truths. All of them. She couldn't tell him anything even if she wanted to. And Rebecca wasn't entirely sure she trusted this man, as nice as he seemed.

He nodded in answer, but didn't move to look at the menu. Rebecca's looked down at her menu instead, eyes widening slightly.

"My apologies," he said, reaching a hand across the table. Rebecca moved her hands, the menu now in her lap as she stared up at him. Gavin paused, a look of confusion crossing over his face for a moment.

"I prefer not to be touched," she said quickly, eyes flicking down to the menu.

She could feel his eyes still upon her. He was assessing the situation, wondering how he could save it.

"You look… very beautiful, Rebecca," he said.

She looked up, a smile across her face that would pass for real to anyone not looking for anything else. "That's kind of you."

She moved the menu back onto the table. Now that she had set the ground rules, and he now understood that she could defend herself, she decided to see how he would act. She moved the menu so he could see.

"Would you recommend the lobster or the shrimp?" she asked.

"Lobster, for sure," he said, pointing to it on the menu. "The best I've had in D.C."

Rebecca nodded. The waiter came by to take their drink orders. Rebecca ordered a glass of water. She was not going to drink around this man. He ordered a glass of wine, and the waiter was off again.

"How was your trip to the zoo today?" he asked.

"Wonderful, actually," she said. "And the pandas were spectacular. Adorable, too."

Gavin smiled. "Glad to hear it."

"I was a bit disappointed that they didn't have the grey wolf," she said. "They're my favorite."

He shrugged. "Maybe they'll expand. Do you plan on being here for a while? Maybe we can go see the wolves when they get them."

Rebecca gave him a derisive smirk as the waiter returned with their drinks. She waited for him to take their orders before responding.

"I plan on being here for at least the next year," she said. "We'll see after that. I have a contract job, you see."

He nodded. "Where in England are you from?"

"Brighton," she said. "It's along the coast, south of London."

"Okay," he said, though his face was blank. "I'm from Boston originally."

"It has a rich history," she said, recalling some of her reading she'd been doing about major cities of the U.S. after first arriving. "The Boston Tea Party and all of that. You certainly told us." She smirked and took a sip of her water.

Gavin laughed. "How did your family feel about you coming here?"

Rebecca paused, the glass half-way back to the table as she recalled the way her father had yelled at her. She forced herself to put the glass back on the table, but he noticed her pause.

"My, uh, real family doesn't care what I'm doing right now," she said. "The friends I consider my family didn't want me to go." She looked up at him, a sad smile on her face. "They wanted me to stay and... do something I didn't want to. But it was time."

Gavin nodded along. "I imagine you keep in touch pretty frequently," he said.

"I write a couple of times a week and they write me back," she said. "I'm better off here. Life was hectic back home. My new job is busy, and some of you American men seem to have a problem with women being independent and protecting themselves, but it's better for me here."

She shot him a look. "I'm sorry, my mouth runs away with me sometimes."

But he was laughing. "With the type of men I imagine you're working with, I can understand how you'd get that opinion." He chuckled. "I think it's sexy when a woman's outspoken."

Rebecca looked down once more as she lifted her glass and took a sip of water.

"I'm sorry, I'm making you uncomfortable," Gavin said, sitting back in his chair slightly.

"It's been a while since I've been the center of such attention," she said, setting down her glass again.

"You're kidding me."

Rebecca glanced up once more and saw the shock on his face. She looked at him incredulously. Gavin leaned forward upon the table once more.

"Don't the men in England know a pretty, intelligent woman when they see one?"

Rebecca shrugged. "I suppose not."

"Crazy," Gavin said quietly, drinking from his wine.

"And yet you've remained single this whole time?" Rebecca asked with a raised eyebrow. "You're polite, have a good job, and you don't seem crazy."

He chuckled. "Thanks," he said. "I just got out of a long relationship, actually. She was pretty insecure. I prefer women who know what they want and who have confidence in themselves."

Rebecca nodded. "What kind of law do you practice, Gavin?"

A slow smile crept over his face. "Divorce."

Rebecca smiled, trying to hide it in her glass.

"You're sharp," he said, leaning forward once more. "What college did you go to?"

"I didn't, actually," she said. "Boarding school is all. I read a lot, and I'm a studier of people."

"Oh?" he asked. "A hobby of yours?"

"Of sorts," Rebecca said, staying back in her seat. He was leaning forward enough for the both of them. "I watch people's expressions, their body language."

"So… you can tell when people are lying?" Gavin asked.

Rebecca nodded.

"That would be so useful," he said, taking another sip of his wine. "Have you ever played two truths and a lie?"

She furrowed her brows and shook her head.

"Well, the name pretty much explains it all. I'll tell you two truths and a lie and you have to guess which one is the lie," he said. "Give me a second."

He clapped his hands together, shutting his eyes so he could think.

"Okay," he said after a minute, looking up. "Which one is the lie?"

He paused a moment, looking into her eyes. Rebecca's eyes were already flicking over his face, looking for subtle signs of movement.

"I am exceedingly attracted to you. I cannot wait to get out of here. And I think that we get along really well."

Rebecca paused, blinking a couple of times. "Well," she said, pointing to his face, "if you meant for the second one to be the false one, you've failed."

"I don't—"

"Your pupils dilated even more when you mentioned leaving," she said. "Your heart was beating faster when you said the first—I could see it beating on your neck— and you looked over my face when you said the third. When people lie, they tend to make more eye contact, which you didn't do until the second one. But that was so you could try to make it pointed, I suppose. But your eyes dilating means lust. So, in a way, you don't want to leave because you're having a lovely time and you do think we get along, but you'd rather have me out of here because that means there's a chance of seeing me nude."

She held open her hand, leaning back in her chair to sit up straight. Gavin blinked quickly, looking down at the table. He took his wine glass and took another sip from it, setting it down slowly before looking at her again.

"Are you sure you're not a mind reader?" he asked quietly.

Rebecca shook her head. "People give away a lot more than they intend to," she said.

"I think I've offended you," he said, his voice low.

"You're male; you have what thoughts that you do because you're programmed that way," Rebecca said.

Gavin chuckled, sitting back in his chair. The waiter returned at that moment, carrying a large tray. He set the lobster in front of Rebecca first before setting the shrimp in front of Gavin. When the waiter left, Gavin raised his glass.

"Cheers," he said. "To a great night with wonderful, quick-witted company."

"Cheers," Rebecca said, raising her glass and touching it to his.

They each took their sips and set down their glasses. It was quiet for a moment as they each dug into their respective dinners. At least the chef had already cut open the skin of the lobster, so she didn't have to go through and crack open all of the shell. Her first bite was very good, and she savored it for a moment before swallowing.

When she looked up once more, she found Gavin looking across the table.

"I wish I could read you like you can read me," he said.

"It's taken me a few years to pick up everything I have."

"Will you teach me?" he asked. "You said you were going to be a teacher. I bet you would have been great at it."

Rebecca shook her head. "I wasn't taught," she said. "And it's really something you have to learn for yourself how to pick up on."

She turned back to her lobster. He didn't speak anymore throughout dinner, for which Rebecca was grateful. She never liked talking during dinner.

They didn't order dessert, and Gavin walked with her and rode the elevator down with her. Rebecca stayed in the corner of it, and he was nice enough to keep his distance. The doorman opened the door for them on their way out.

"Will you let me escort you home?" he asked. "Or at least let me walk with you to the Metro station?"

"That's fine," Rebecca said, "the latter, that is."

He smiled. They walked for a bit in quiet, her heels clacking against the sidewalk.

"I feel like there's a lot to you," he said. "I like it. You're not mysterious or anything. But I do feel like you're not telling me a lot, which I understand. We just met."

"There's a lot to me," Rebecca said, nodding. "Not many people know it. And a lot who do know, I would prefer if they didn't."

"It can't be that bad," he said, pressing the button for the crosswalk. Cars were still out at this time. This city never seemed to go to fully go to sleep.

Rebecca looked up at him, realizing how tall he was. Easily over six feet. Even at her height, five foot seven in American measurements, that was fairly tall. "It is," she said. "I believe your saying is, 'I plead the fifth'?"

Gavin smiled. "Right. But someone with a sweet face like yours… I can't believe it can be anything that bad."

The light changed for them, and Rebecca took a step back from him. She looked out into the street and saw the cars were stopped. She made her way across the street, Gavin jogging a few steps to keep up.

When they'd crossed the street, he picked up the conversation again.

"I'm pretty quick, too," he said, looking down at her. "You're in defense training, but I think you work for the government. Not for contract."

"And why would you think that?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"Your demeanor, the way you hold yourself. Your vague descriptions without being too vague. The different-looking tattoo." He smiled. "I've lived in D.C. long enough to know the type. So tell me," he said, leaning down so he could see her face more clearly, "am I right?"

"I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you," Rebecca said with a hint of a smile.

She avoided crashing into him just barely when he suddenly stopped. Rebecca peered up just as his face was coming toward hers. Her heart raced as the feeling of entrapment came over her. Quickly, Rebecca side-stepped, trying to normalize her suddenly fast breathing as she watched Gavin slowly come to the realization that she was no longer where he thought she was.

He slowly turned to face her, looking her over.

"Someone really did a number on you, honey," he said gently.

"I'm not your honey," Rebecca whispered harshly, staring at him through her hair, the shield separating them.

He held up his hands. "No offense meant," he said.

"I'm going home," Rebecca said, still watching him as she turned.

"The card has my number on it," he said, raising his voice as she walked away. "I hope you call me. I had a really good time, Rebecca!"

She already had her back to him, was keeping her strides long and purposeful, not running. She was not running. She didn't want to ride the Metro back. It didn't feel safe. But she also wasn't sure if she could concentrate long enough to Apparate.

But she had to try. She ducked into an alleyway, waiting a moment to see if Gavin or some stranger had followed her. Then she took out her wand from in her bag and closed her eyes for a moment, clearing her mind.

She was outside of her building within a few moments. Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief before jogging somewhat awkwardly to the door. She was in her flat within a minute, warding the door more than she usually did.

Panic. Even still, after all of this time. Others touching her without warning usually set her off, but not this bad. She was slipping, wasn't practicing or trying hard enough. She had to push herself to get over this. Her friends were a different story. She trusted them. They wouldn't harm her. But others were a different story. Even sometimes her friends couldn't touch her without her pushing away from them.

Rebecca covered her face as she sunk down onto the couch. The large cushions surrounded her on all sides, letting her sink into the dense furniture. After a while, she felt somewhat better. She stood and went to take her ritualistic shower.

It was much like the one she'd taken after receiving her Dark Mark. The shower was nearly unbearably hot, and she had the bar of soap directly in her hand as she began scrubbing her body down without looking at it. It was stupid, not being able to look at the scars. They'd been a part of her for nearly four years, and they weren't going anywhere. Everyone in the wizarding world knew about them and her Mark—common knowledge, old news. But the way they tarnished her skin, the fear she recalled when looking at them… Rebecca shook her head, practicing her breathing to calm her as she continued to scrub.

She felt calmer as she stepped out of the shower, more like herself again. She wiped the mirror of condensation so she could stare at her reflection. Green eyes peered back at her, curious, accusatory… sad.

It was an emotion she was growing accustomed to. It plagued her sleep, her waking thoughts, and everything she did. Only at work could she focus, or when she was trying to find a book at the bookstore she'd begun to frequent. Or at the Apothecary, preparing for the time when she was ready to brew again. But those were her moments of clarity, though she faked it well enough in her letters.

She dressed for bed and laid under the covers in the darkness for a while, listening to the sounds of the flats around her. It was mostly quiet this time of night, but occasionally there was the sound of the pipes or someone talking too loudly or the telly blasting. But it was quiet.

Rebecca rolled over and tried not to think of him. Of any of them. She'd made a mistake in coming here, so far from everyone. But Rebecca was resilient and stubborn. She would stay here, if only to prove to herself that she could do it. She would improve her attitude. And go on dates with more men. Maybe not Gavin. He was too nice, too polite. And it bothered her. Where was the sarcasm? The derisive remarks? Intelligent debate…

She forced the pillow over her head and groaned into it. Not exactly the characteristics she'd wanted to grow attached to. But inconceivably she had, and look at where she'd ended up, she reminded herself.

But he didn't care about her, she also consciously thought. He burned the letter I gave to Harry for him. He didn't want to read it.

She turned over once more and closed her eyes, clearing her mind once more in the hopes of sleep coming to her sooner than it usually did. She pushed Severus Snape from her mind, resolved that she would make no comparisons with any further men she would meet and date. She wouldn't think of him, wouldn't ask about him. He wanted nothing to do with her, and there was no reason that she couldn't want the same of him.

"On the other side of a street I knew / Stood a girl that looked like you. / I guess that's déjà vu, / But I thought this can't be true. / 'Cause you moved to west L.A. or New York or Santa Fe, / Or wherever to get away from me…. / Oh, but that one night / Is still the highlight. / I didn't need you until I came to. / And I was overwhelmed, and frankly scared as hell / Because I really fell for you." –"Drive By" by Train

Severus, August 4, 1998

Returning to Hogwarts had been a challenge for Severus. So many memories, so many different things that would need to be done in preparation for this year. But at least they had a Transfiguration professor, at least if only for this year.

He walked the now much shorter distance to the Headmistress' office, another place he had little desire to go to, but he had been summoned there. As her Deputy Headmaster, he was obliged to speak with Minerva on occasion, even if she had the annoying habit of… Well, simply getting on his nerves.

The newly-remade gargoyle jumped out of his way, bowing its head as he walked by. Severus rolled his eyes at the creature before entering the office.

"Severus, do come in and sit down," Minerva said from her desk, scribbling furiously upon the parchment in front of her.

Severus smirked at the pile of paperwork on her desk and did as he was told, sitting quietly and watching her over his nose.

Minerva finally huffed and set her quill down. "I don't know how Albus made this look so easy," she muttered, her lips growing into the familiar thin line to show her frustration.

Severus glanced up at the old Headmaster, sitting quietly in his portrait. "Albus had a knack for fooling people into thinking things were much easier for him than for everyone else."

Minerva sighed.

"I'm surprised at your choice for Transfiguration professor," Severus continued, folding his hands in his lap. "But I suppose he will do for now, until another, more suitable replacement can be found."

"Percy Weasley was the only one with acceptable qualifications," Minerva said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And was the only one available who was willing. I offered the post to Miss Felan before she left last month, but she turned me down in no uncertain terms."

Severus felt his upper lip rise slightly at the mention of her name. Minerva rolled her eyes.

"If you don't mind, I would prefer if you try to pull the other one," she said flatly. "I know that you were there, Severus."

"And heard you offering up my position in your desperate attempt to get the chit to stay," Severus growled. "Pathetic, Minerva, and absolutely so."

"I'm supposing you didn't stay to hear her answer," Minerva said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Probably some simpering excuse about her duties and already being bound," Severus said, sitting back in his chair. "Nothing particularly new or amusing."

"She said she would never do that to you."

Severus' eyes flicked to somewhere else in the room and did not speak.

"Even after how you spoke to her after your trial," Minerva continued, shaking her head slowly. "Perhaps Gryffindor would have been a better House for her. At least there she would have gained acceptance."

"Is there some sort of point to this meeting, Minerva?" Severus asked, black eyes flashing as he looked back at her.

"Yes," she said. "Your syllabus. I have need of it within the next week so that I might review it. At least you got me your book list on time."

"Is there anything else you require of me, Headmistress?" Severus said.

"Do try not to terrify Percy," Minerva said. "Or convince the Slytherin students that he's anything but qualified. He's got enough on his plate as it is, and I can't afford to have him running off before winter break."

She looked up at Severus, glaring. "Now you're dismissed."

Severus stood quickly, robes billowing as he left the office. The nerve of her. He fumed as his brisk pace carried him down the corridor and back to his own classroom, where he had been clearing out the old, unnecessary items.

His limp was less pronounced, but he sometimes still had issues with his left appendages not always doing what he told them to. Occasional spasms. Nothing too serious. The wounds upon his neck had never healed quite properly, so the scars there were a sight to behold. He took to wearing even higher collars to hide them. He wouldn't be any more of a spectacle for his students than he needed to be.

He returned to his classroom, finding that he was no longer in a mood to prepare it. He had gotten about an hour into things, had a good rhythm going. Sorting items by professor, wondering which items had actually belonged to Moody and which to Barty Crouch Jr. Sneering at the memory of Lockhart. Taking an extra moment to carefully set aside the few things Lupin had left… As much as he didn't want to like the man, Severus had to admit that he felt a certain kinship between their situations. People had shunned Severus for most of his life because of who he was, and the same could be said for Lupin, though it was nothing he could have helped.

With the Life Debt he owed finally gone, Severus had taken a long look at many of his memories, including the ones he'd given to Potter. The boy had given them back fairly soon after Severus had gotten out of Azkaban, going so far as to come to his home in Spinner's End. Severus had snatched the vial of memories from Potter's grasp before the boy could utter more than a few words, yelling his thanks as Severus slammed the door in his face.

Those memories didn't hold quite the same feelings for him anymore. Or at least those emotions weren't as strong as they had once been. He felt calmer. Could look at things with a clearer head. And he examined his relationship with Lily Evans, scrutinizing everything. Perhaps some clue would reveal itself, and he could put all of this to rest once and for all.

That had exactly been what had happened. He saw the true Lily, not the Lily through his love-hazed glasses he'd forced upon himself from childhood. She was still an innately good person, but Severus could see how she had used him during their school years. And when he did start to truly scare her was when she decided his frightening new attitude outweighed his usefulness as a study partner. And that was that. There had been, perhaps, some love for him. But it paled in comparison to how much of an idiot he looked, wanting to cater to her needs and desires. But she never would have loved him the same way that he had loved her.

There would always be a certain sense of thankfulness, a type of love, toward the girl who had befriended him and treated him normally for so much of his formative years. But Severus could no longer delude himself. As much of a saint he'd believed her to be, she was just a human being—just like everyone else.

This realization hit him anew as he entered his office, and Severus sat heavily in his chair behind the desk. He stared at the smooth surface, pondering everything as it returned to him. When his eyes focused upon reality once more, he saw the cream-colored envelope, familiar, neat handwriting addressing the parchment inside to him.

Slowly, Severus reached forward to pluck the envelope from his desk. He twisted slightly in his chair as he considered it. Mastering the art of copying an object before destroying what appeared to be the original had been another trick taught to him by the Dark Lord. He'd not wanted to use it until the moment Potter handed him this letter.

She said she would never do that to you.

That was a far cry from the parting message her Patronus had delivered to him. Her voice had been even, angry, and everything that he expected of someone who'd been spurned. But Minerva's words did not match up with this. Was this more acting on her part before leaving, to convince him that she wouldn't think of him?

But then there was this letter, the one that he'd had yet to read. Why he had made a copy of it was still quite unknown to him, but there he sat, holding the thing. It smelled faintly of her.

And Severus recalled on his trip to Diagon Alley earlier in the day that he'd received the letter, he was caught off-guard by a flash of red in his peripherals. How quickly he had turned, acting on pure instinct. Across the street stood a thin young woman, red hair flowing past her shoulders. But upon looking directly at her, this person was nothing like her. Severus found himself looking at the young woman longer than he'd wanted to, and ended up scowling and turning away from her, going about his business, more annoyed now than he had been before.

She was gone. Not in England. America had been her destination, to get away from everything, but mostly him. For however well she acted and could inflect perfectly to mimic any emotion she desired, Rebecca Felan could not hide the fact that she was hurting fiercely. Severus heard through the tumult of gossip that always occurred when returning to Hogwarts with his colleagues that her father had banished her from his sight the very afternoon of his trial, forbidding her from coming near her own family.

N.E.W.T. scores revealed that she had delved deeply into her studies as a means of escape, just as she had always done. And Minerva he heard muttering about Kingsley, the one who was supposed to be the golden-hearted man, the first night back at dinner. Apparently Kingsley had tried to coerce her into joining the ranks of the Ministry as his own personal spy, disguised as his personal assistant and body guard. The thought had been enough to make Severus snort at the absurdity. No wonder she was such a wreck.

Severus suddenly realized that he was analyzing her and sat up in his chair, the envelope with her handwriting staring him in the face. With a flick of his hand, the top of it opened evenly. He pulled out the folded parchment and opened it, his eyes scanning the words and the way her letters flowed into one another without quite being script.

Professor Snape,

I must apologize for what I said the night before I left. It was very rude of me, and uncalled for. You always taught me it was important never to let my emotions control me, and I forgot that sentiment in that moment.

I wanted to send this letter to see how you were faring. I'm hopeful the wound upon your neck doesn't bother you too much, and that you don't suffer any ill effects from the venom or your treatment for it.

Washington, D.C., is certainly much different from anywhere I've been before. It's extremely busy, there is too much to see and do, and the people are all interesting subjects—the wizarding people and the muggles alike. I'm pleased with my new position in the American Ministry. Minister Smith is kind and supplies me with enough hands to do what he requests and enough funds to get everything done.

I've also met someone whom you're acquainted with. The Ministry's Potions Master, Mr. Albert Brauer, sought me out to discuss my potion, Venenum of Animus. He is going to help me patent it within the next year and is trying to convince me to return to brewing. He wishes to help me gain my formal mastery of the subject, but I have not yet given him an answer. I was going to ask your opinion of what type of person he is before becoming acquainted with him further.

I don't wish to take up more of your time, so I'll close my letter by saying that I hope you're well and that you have a good term at Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Rebecca Felan

Severus read the letter numerous times, each pass showing him something more about her life that he guessed that her own friends did not know. She was displeased with her current situation, was most likely miserable. And she was doing her best to hide it. Her diction might fool those who didn't know what to look for, but Severus had gotten quite skilled at decoding letters.

A sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach overwhelmed him, and he slid the parchment back into the envelope and placed the whole thing into his drawer, shutting it solidly. And thus ended his feelings of shame.

But his mind would not stop, as it rarely ever did anymore. Apparently having a near-death experience made one extremely thoughtful. And though that night and its subsequent days were somewhat fuzzy, he recalled what she had done to save him perfectly well.

The greatest kindness anyone had ever done to him. Someone who actually gave a damn about his life, who was willing to do whatever it took to save him. And her kiss had been terribly sweet. He hated himself for recalling it with such clarity. But he had returned the kiss in his state, no matter what it was, had allowed it and permitted it. He had agreed to it, not thinking she would use it as a means to save him. And now it was going to haunt him forever, plague his dreams as it had already begun doing as soon as he had lain in his own bed and slept well enough for the first time since being released from Azkaban.

He gave a groan and placed his hand over his eyes. Finally, he stood, forcing himself into some sort of business. He had the rest of the classroom to prepare, and then he would need to see about the items he no longer wanted.

There, a list of things to do that didn't require much thought.

But as he raised his finger to scratch the side of his nose, he caught the scent of her once more, remaining upon his skin. Pleasant, feminine, delicate, and pervasive. He could almost sense her in the room with him. She had become a staple in his life whether he wanted it or not. They had spent nearly every day with one another for the past year. Her sudden vanishing left him wanting for someone to talk to, as he'd grown accustomed to. But that space was open, and perhaps this openness bothered him.

He growled, walking through the open door and down into his classroom, intent upon his original task once more.

"Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood, / Miss 'No way, it's all good,' / It didn't slow me down. / Mistaken, always second-guessing. / Underestimated, look I'm still around. / Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel / Like you're less than fucking perfect. / Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel / Like you're nothin', you're fucking perfect to me…. / So complicated, / Look happy, you'll make it! / Filled with so much hatred- / Such a tired game. / It's enough, I've done all I could think of. / Chased down all my demons, / I've seen you do the same. / Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel / Like you're less than fucking perfect. / Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel / Like you're nothin', you're fucking perfect to me.

-"Perfect" by Pink

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, August 5, 1998

Hermione,

I'd appreciate if you kept what I'm about to write to you between the two of us. I feel like writing my thoughts out on paper will help put things into perspective. I suppose I'll see, but I always appreciate your input on things.

I went on a date with a muggle solicitor—Gavin. He was polite, kind, intelligent, handsome, and attentive to a point of making me uncomfortable. Clearly he enjoyed my presence, but I'm not sure how I felt about his. He was perhaps pushy, but would apologize when he discovered my discomfort. I have little point of reference in these matters, and American men are, as I've noticed, vastly different from what I'm used to.

At the end of the date, he attempted to kiss me. I'll preface my reaction with the fact that he's very tall and well-built, so it may have added to my reaction. I side-stepped, felt like I was going to have a panic attack. I practically ran from him, but he called after me and told me to ring him because he'd had a good time regardless.

I'm beginning to think that he's perhaps too good to be entirely truthful, but I'm also an ex-spy at the tail-end of a war, so I could just be paranoid. I'm also still concerned about my reaction, because I believed I'd started working through my issues since my attack. I've always been watchful of others, and even more so since I'm essentially by myself here. But I do always have the feeling like my panic is just right at the forefront of bursting out. I don't know if my stay in Azkaban exacerbated my issues, if it was the final battle, or… any number of other things. Or all of the above.

I'm not yet close enough with anyone here to speak to them, but I don't feel as though I'm going to go bonkers or anything. I'm simply curious if I will lead a normal life. Your input or suggestions are desperately wanted and will be graciously accepted no matter what they are.

And before you can ask, here are the answers to the following questions I know you have:

Yes, I did enjoy myself for the most part on the date.

Yes, I plan on dating other men.

No, I don't have anyone in mind.

No, I haven't decided if I'm going to ring Gavin.

And the other question I don't want to encounter yet, and I know you're more tactful than that to ask, but I wanted to also make you aware that I'm aware of what everyone else must be thinking about that situation.

Also, you can tell everyone that I've been on a date and any of those details pertaining to the male in question. That should please them.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Love, Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, August 6, 1998

Rebecca,

You know me too well. I can't even get to ask any of my obligatory best-girl-friend questions.

To address your other concern, I think it's a compounding issue, Rebecca. I think you should see if the Ministry has someone who is able to deal with these problems you're having. Perhaps talking to someone objective about them might help you. Talking to strangers is daunting, I understand, but perhaps it couldn't hurt to try. You've probably already tried your normal meditation, but perhaps look into any advanced classes. My mum's recently gotten into yoga and says it helps her relax very well. Maybe there are some classes like that around where you live. Exercising in general seems to help with stress. Create a regimen for yourself and follow it religiously. Maybe one of these things or all of these things will help. I hope I was helpful.

I don't want you feeling down on yourself, Rebecca. Everyone copes differently. Please don't think any less of yourself.

And people have been told. Expect a flood of letters in your box along with this one.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, August 6, 1998

Becca,

You went on a date?! That bloke better treat you well. Tell him your cousin is a big deal in England and has powers he couldn't imagine. That should be vague and scary enough to keep him in line.

I'm glad to hear you're doing well. Write me back quickly with more information, if there is any other than the little Hermione told us.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Ron to Rebecca, August 6, 1998

Becca,

Tell that bloke he's going to have to deal with a lot of crazy adopted family members should anything become serious.

Ron

P.S.- Lupin told me to tell you congratulations and he's glad to hear of the news. Mum's also happy, though something tells me she's faking it somewhat. Can't imagine why. Dad just seems amused about the whole thing—not your having a date, but Mum being happy but not happy about it. She's a bit weird, though, so I wouldn't worry too much about it.

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, August 6, 1998

Rebecca,

Tell me why I had to hear from Granger that you've been on a date. You better write back quickly. Mother's beside herself with curiosity.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, August 7, 1998

Hermione,

Merlin, what have I gotten myself into? I now have four letters to answer all at once. This will be brief, but here's an update.

I've started seeing the Aurors' version of the psychologist. I'm not really sure what his official title is. He might be part of their Unspeakables for all I know. He doesn't talk much, doesn't even take notes. I had one session with him and feel a bit frustrated, but we'll see how it goes.

There is a yoga class at the muggle gym down the street from my flat. The class meets twice a week, and I've joined it. I've also joined the gym and will be working out there before the class and an additional day or two a week, depending upon how much time I have. It won't be anything strenuous—just an hour or so every time I go. It might also help with my lack of sleeping. Again, I'll keep you updated.

Thank you so much for the advice. Please accept the enclosed gift as a token of my appreciation.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, August 6, 1998

Harry,

Thanks for the threat. Surprisingly, you're the one who threatened. Draco is offended I didn't tell him directly. Ron told me to warn Gavin about my crazy adopted family. I find this funny.

There's not much else to tell. When there is, I'll update everyone via one letter. Hopefully I won't get four or more all at once.

Love,

Becca

Letter from Rebecca to Ron, August 6, 1998

Ron,

I'll be sure to warn him if I see him again. I haven't yet decided.

I can't begin to wonder what you're mum's thinking. Contrary to popular belief, I can't read minds, especially from across the ocean.

How is Remus? You can tell him he's allowed to send me letters, too, as long as you and Harry aren't hogging the box. I'd like to hear from him.

Becca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, August 6, 1998

Draco,

You can tell your mother that she can calm down. I have plenty of appropriate "date clothes." And that I'm fine.

I'm sorry Hermione had to be the one to tell you, but I didn't want to write four different letters when one was sufficient to spread the word.

I can tell you he thinks it's interesting that I can read him. He is a solicitor, so I suspect he's better than most at schooling their features. He's just not a Slytherin. And a muggle. And he thinks my Dark Mark is a tattoo—an image muggles get on their skin using ink. I'm not sure how to handle that. But I'm not sure what I expected from a muggle.

Anyway, I'll update you personally should anything else happen.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, August 7, 1998

Rebecca,

Mother says, "Ha-ha." Father has the usual fatherly threats. He's missed out on having suitors to threaten, seeing as I'm not a girl. Keep the attention on you, Rebecca, and they'll likely forget I exist. Some friend you are.

What does this mean for you and Severus?

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, August 8, 1998

Draco,

Tell your parents I appreciate their concern. And don't worry, they'll never forget their little baby-waby Dracokins.

I'm also sure I don't know what you're talking about.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, August 9, 1998

Rebecca,

Deflections are for Beaters. Last time I checked, you were not one. Unless you've been leading a secret life in America, joining a Quidditch team and not telling us. For shame.

Seriously though, come off it. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, August 10, 1998

Draco,

I don't play Quidditch. You know that I'm not fond of heights. I'm lucky I'm competent enough riding a broom that I don't fall off when I'm still on the ground.

And there is nothing to talk about. There's nothing there.

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, August 10, 1998

Hermione,

The exercise and sessions with Mr. Able seem to be helping. I'm at least sleeping somewhat better, though it will take me a while to feel comfortable enough to sleep through the whole night in my flat.

Hope you enjoyed the chocolates.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, August 11, 1998

Rebecca,

I have enjoyed the chocolates! Thank you very much for sending them along. Muggle candy still holds a special place in my heart, possibly because it doesn't move unexpectedly.

I'm glad the suggestions I made seem to be helping you. I figured having a mind as active as yours needed a body as active to match in order to calm it down.

Have you been on any other dates?

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, copied and sent to Harry, Ron, & Draco, August 11, 1998

All,

Instead of writing four letters, here are your updates all at once.

Yes, I have been on another date, and it wasn't with Gavin the solicitor. I gave another muggle man a try. One of my co-workers had a brother who had an extra ticket to the theatre to see a muggle Broadway show—for everyone besides Hermione, there's a lot of acting, singing, and general romantic notions you boys would find dull.

Richard was a nice enough man, but I'm beginning to think that muggles aren't appropriate for me right now. He knew about the wizarding world because of his brother, so that boundary wasn't particularly bad. But he wasn't as verbally engaging as I would've preferred.

Perhaps another go will help.

Rebecca

Letter from Remus to Rebecca, August 13, 1998

Rebecca,

Instead of getting updates via Ron or Harry, I decided to sit down and write you myself at your behest.

We're still living with the Weasleys, as kind as they are. The repairs to her home are a bit more than Andromeda and I can handle, so it might be a while yet until she can move back there. I plan on staying with the Weasleys and allowing Andromeda to take Teddy. I will visit on the weekends, but will live here predominantly.

Let me explain before you try and put your brain out by working out the situation.

I'm not well, not by any stretch. I can function normally enough to hold my job, and that is all Kingsley really expects of me. The werewolves give me little difficulty since the majority of them were on the losing side. So my job is fairly simple, particularly with Greyback behind bars for the remainder of his life.

But mentally, I'm afraid, I'm not fit to be around my son for extended lengths of time. That sentence took me far too long to write. Admitting it is the first step to recovery, however. Or so they say. I cannot look at him without being reminded of Dora. Another painful sentence.

Andromeda, Molly, Arthur, and I have talked the situation over, and they have agreed to host me as long as necessary, on the stipulation that I pay room and board. Molly wouldn't hear of it, but I insisted. My recovery, I believe, is going to be slow and arduous. I was there. Right there. And I could do nothing. I still feel it's my fault.

I'm sorry to burden you with this knowledge, Becca, but I believe you will have a great understanding of my feelings right now. Hermione also mentioned that perhaps I would want to compare notes with you about things. It was an oddly vague statement, so I imagine she promised to keep something from the rest that you didn't want as common knowledge. But it's probably relevant to the situation. Tell me or not— I won't be offended either way.

I do hope that you're doing well. It seems that you are doing your share of exploring your new city, both singularly and with others. I'm glad that you're not getting down on yourself.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Remus

Letter from Rebecca to Remus, August 16, 1998

Remus,

I'm so sorry I couldn't write before now. I've been extremely busy at work and in keeping with my workout schedule I've set for myself. To keep it short: I took advice from Hermione about dealing with my issues stemming from Greyback's attacks. They seem to be helping, but only time can really tell. I still feel very nervous, jumpy, but it does not seem as bad as it was when I first arrived here. That's all she was talking about. I don't mind you knowing of the situation. Like you said, I understand better than most what you're going through and vice versa.

As for the situation you've explained, as long as you believe it will help you recover, it is your decision to make. I'm glad to hear the Weasleys will take you in. I'm sure their house is feeling somewhat empty after having so many people in it immediately after… after everything.

I'm doing my best not to get down on myself, but as I'm sure you understand it's very difficult. That's all I'll say on the subject.

I think you'd like it in D.C. There's a lot of history everywhere, and America in general seems like a fairly accepting place. Or perhaps that's my optimism for the century.

Please keep me updated if you are of a mind to.

Enclosed is 10,000 galleons, shrunk in order to fit more easily, in the separate envelope. I have no need of it. Give it to Andromeda from me so that she may rebuild her home more quickly. I know what it's like to feel displaced, especially at a time like this. There's no need to re-pay me, and if you or she attempts to I will deny it until I'm dead.

Love,

Becca

"Rip the earth in two with your mind. / Seal the urge which ensues with brass wires…. / I close my eyes for a while, / And force from the world a patient smile…. / If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy I could have won. / But I gave you all. / I gave you all. / I gave you all…. / And you rip it from my hands / And you swear it's all gone. / And you rip out all I have / Just to say that you've won… / You've won. / Well, now you've won. / But I gave you all. / I gave you all. / I gave you all." – "I Gave You All" by Mumford & Sons

Rebecca, August 30, 1998

The letters continued back and forth, too numerous to count. Remus had tried to refuse the money, but Rebecca kept sending it back. Finally, she received a letter from Andromeda, containing her gratitude and how much Rebecca did not need to do what she'd done. She was able to pay to fix up her home, and they would be able to move back in around mid-September. Rebecca wrote back to her, and soon discovered she had another pen pal. Another person to lie to about her life.

And while she was doing the things Hermione requested, still she lied. They weren't helping as much as she claimed. She still felt anxious. Couldn't sleep most nights. But her friends were a thousand miles away. There was no sense in worrying them. They all had their own lives to live and couldn't be concerned with someone they couldn't help so far away.

But she pressed on, just as she always had done. Her schedule was packed, but it felt normal. There had never been a day in her life for the past seven years where she had a free moment. And this allowed her less time to think. Inevitably, her brain would turn back to everything that had caused her to leave.

So many things that she had left behind. Cowardly. Unfaithful. Selfish.

Thinking back on it, Rebecca knew she had come under too much pressure. It had been too much for her. Mr. Able said the muggles had diagnosed what she had, called it Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Perhaps all of them who had lived through the war, who had fought, all had a bit of this. There were anti-psychotics and anti-depressants the muggles would take, but muggle medicine did not affect wizards the same way it does non-magical beings, and it was unsafe to take. Rebecca had no intentions of taking anything.

By this point, Rebecca already felt as though she made the motions. The only thing keeping her on her toes were the training sessions or going out on missions with her Aurors. But they didn't feel like hers, as much as she tried to use the pronoun. As if to make herself believe.

She wasn't going to go back to Mr. Able. There was nothing he could do for her. And talking to him felt like talking to a brick wall. And he didn't understand, at least as far as Rebecca could tell.

That freed up her Monday evenings, so she could at least return to her sight-seeing or quiet strolls through her neighborhood. She had already made friends with the older muggle man at the bookstore at the end of her block. He gave her new reading material every time she came in, and Rebecca gladly paid for the books.

The day before, she spoke to Mr. Albert Brauer and agreed to begin the patenting process for her Animagus potion. And she would let him help her study for the test portion of the Mastery program for Potions. The test, he assured her, would qualify her anywhere in the world. And once she had passed the test, she could show her abilities in a couple of ways: through an apprenticeship, or by simply practicing informally, either on her own or with a Potions Master or Mistress. The last step would be to show her prowess by creating another, original potion that would help wizarding kind. She couldn't use her Animagus potion, simply because people were already aware of its existence.

Rebecca agreed to all of this, and Mr. Brauer set about to obtaining the proper paperwork and bid her to practice brewing her potion again and again until she could brew it with her eyes closed. That's what she had been doing with her Monday evenings, or any time that she wasn't doing other things.

Other dates were had, but after going through ten different men of varying types, Rebecca was giving up. There was always something missing, and she didn't want to be close to any of them. Many of them simply wanted to use her because of her station in the wizarding world, or to possibly get close to Harry Potter. It was disgusting. And the muggles weren't any better. They didn't let her feel relief at all. She was more on her guard with them. They were unpredictable creatures, things that couldn't be trusted.

She missed him. And it hurt her terribly, both admitting it and feeling it. The easy debates they could slip into, their conversations, and even his sarcasm. But she had been nothing to him. She had been simply an order, just another person to protect. Once that last bond was broken, he had no use for her. He had wanted to die, and she wouldn't let him.

She had given him everything and received nothing in return except for scorn and hatred. But she had expected nothing less from him. Rebecca knew him too well to think he would have responded any differently. But she'd had no clue that she would still feel this way.

But her Patronus was still a wolf. Probably because the doe was not his true Patronus' form. That was the only explanation she could come up with. And it suited her just fine. She knew that she still cared for him. But shoving it downward, farther and deeper, with each passing day seemed to be helping. Dwelling on the affection and him as little as possible was the only way she could cope.

Inevitably, she would return to England. And in order to finally alleviate herself of this problem, she would tell him the truth of what she'd done. Or hadn't done, in this case. She hadn't slept with Marcus Flint, and she understood why now. She had been denying it to herself for so long, and it made her all the more pathetic.

But he had won. He'd seen her off, and he didn't have to deal with her any longer. That was what he'd wanted.

"Weep for yourself, my man, / You'll never be what is in your heart. / Weep, little lion man, / You're not as brave as you were at the start. / Rate yourself and rake yourself, / Take all the courage you have left / Wasted on fixing all the problems / That you made in your own head…. / Tremble for yourself, my man, / You know that you have seen this all before. / Tremble, little lion man, / You'll never settle any of your scores. / Your grace is wasted in your face, / Your boldness stands alone among the wreck. / Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck. / But it was not your fault but mine. / And it was your heart on the line./ I really fucked it up this time, / Didn't I, my dear? / Didn't I, my dear?" – "Little Lion Man" by Mumford & Sons

Severus, August 31, 1998

The last day before the term began. The last day before the Great Hall was once again filled with students. And the repairs were complete. Everything looked just as it had before, with some minor improvements here and there.

Severus sat quietly at the far end of the table, trying his best to ignore his colleagues as deftly as he knew how. Their chatter was normal, what the first years would be like, how Hagrid would bring them across the lake as normal. Everything had to be normal, like nothing had occurred, though they would naturally address the war and the battle that had taken place at Hogwarts. But their ceremonies would remain the same. The Sorting Hat would be used, and they hoped it would have a pleasing song for their students.

"We'll also be dealing with those students who are returning to repeat their previous year," Minerva said.

"Yes, we will need to be sensitive to their needs as well," squeaked Flitwick.

"I say we have the Prefects and Head Girl and Boy as well as any professors available for counseling the students as necessary," Sprout said.

That called a hearty bought of nodding and general agreements.

"Forgive me, but does that not normally fall under the Head of House's duties?" Severus said, raising an eyebrow.

"Generally yes, Severus," Minerva said. "But there will be many more students who might need the assistance."

Too much coddling had never done anyone any sort of good. But Severus kept to himself. There weren't any students left who would come to him with their problems. And Slughorn was the Head of Slytherin House once more, while he was the Deputy Headmaster and Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. A preferred position, one that might keep him out of reach of the students, though he would not turn them away should they truly need help. Those who sought to use this merely as some way to get at the survivors of the war would be punished.

Dinner was then quietly eaten. Severus savored the meal, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"I've had good news," Minerva said quietly, looking mostly at Flitwick and Hagrid, who sat beside each other. It made quite the contrast.

Severus picked up his glass of wine, only interested in the mystery topic because Minerva had lowered her voice. Curiosity won.

"It appears Miss Felan is doing quite well for herself," Minerva said with a smirk. "She's obtained some sort of agreement with Potions Master Brauer and will be working with him in order to take the test for her Mastery. And she's dating several different men, it seems—muggles and wizards."

The wine glass Severus was holding shattered in his hand under his crushing grip. The wine was forced upward and downward, away from the force of his fist, covering his robes. His hand throbbed suddenly with the pain of the glass embedded in his skin. He noted that all attention had turned to him, and he cleared his throat as he retrieved his wand.

"A spasm," he said as he flourished his wand. The wine disappeared and the glass was slowly pulling from his skin. Severus raised his upper lip at the pain, but once it was all out, he Vanished the shards and healed his hand.

"Excuse me," he said, standing and leaving the table. He made his way from the Great Hall and up the stairs to his quarters, hidden behind his office and warded with as many spells as he could manage.

Once inside did he allow himself to show any sign of annoyance. Minerva had known he would listen and was trying to get a rise out of him. She was successful, and his actions had been completely reactionary, his mind having no sort of say in how tightly he was gripping the glass.

And that was the most infuriating bit, that she could still have that power over him. He no longer turned to speak to her when she was most clearly not there, did not want her attention or anyone else's any longer. He desired to be left alone, and his colleagues respected that and kept their distance. But Minerva would continue to push his buttons until one of them was dead.

And she knew exactly what button to push. Rebecca bloody Felan. Still she was in his dreams, innocuous things. They would be talking, conversing as if nothing had happened, as if she were still here.

It was he that should be preparing her for that test, not Brauer. The man was a fine brewer, and was of an age with Severus. Is that what was bothering him? That Brauer would somehow steal away the girl he'd once thought of as his protégé? Or was it the men she was supposedly seeing? How completely fucked was his mind that it would allow him to think such things?

He did not desire her. He did not want anything to do with her. But time and again he thought of her, even when he'd spoken to no one for days, when her name had not reached his ears at all.

The crazy thought of responding to her letter came to his head, but he immediately disregarded it. Potter would have told her that he had burned it with one touch, and he was not ready to reveal the secret that he'd wanted to read her letter.

He recalled how disguised it was. She still felt the same for him. And that furthered his rage even more. After speaking the way he had to her, after every word he'd said had been given time to sink in… she still cared. And that was the most perplexing of all.

"A dunderhead," he said. "Just like the rest of him."

And he pushed her from his mind once more.

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, September 2, 1998

Rebecca,

Slughorn sent an interesting letter to my father yesterday. In it, he recounted how Severus crushed a wine glass with his bare hand after hearing the news of you dating several other men. I thought you might be interested in hearing about it.

Draco

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, September 5, 1998

Rebecca,

I realize that you might be busy, but at least let me know you're alive. Potter and the others say they haven't heard from you in a few days and they're concerned.

Draco

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, September 10, 1998

Rebecca,

If you're pissed at me, that's fine. But at least talk to Potter before he kills himself.

Draco

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, September 12, 1998

Rebecca,

If this is what I said about Severus, this is seriously an awful way to show how much you don't care.

I'm concerned. Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine, I said it. You're making me worry about you.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, September 13, 1998

Draco,

Severus Snape can go fuck himself.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, September 14, 1998

Rebecca,

Never mind, then. I'm sorry for bringing it up.

I hope you're doing well. You should really write to the others. Potter's been coming round to make sure I'm not lying about your lack of letters. While my parents enjoy having him here, I'm getting quite annoyed at the random dropping in.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, September 15, 1998

Draco,

So much for your caring streak. I'm fine. Work is keeping me busy and Potions Master Brauer has me brewing whenever I'm not doing something work-related. My letters will be few, but I'll write to Harry tomorrow to stop everyone from worrying.

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, September 16, 1998

Harry,

I'm sorry if I made you all worry. I'm doing well; I just have little time to myself. When I'm not working, I'm brewing. And when I'm not doing either of those things, I'm trying to sleep. My letters may be few, but I'm always thinking of you all.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, September 17, 1998

Rebecca,

I'm glad to finally hear from you. Thanks for letting us know about your new schedule. That'll keep everyone from having a heart attack.

Also, Draco showed me your letter about Professor Snape. Do you need to talk about anything?

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, September 18, 1998

Harry,

I meant exactly what I said in that letter. I don't need to talk about anything.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, September 20, 1998

Rebecca,

I wanted to see how things were with you. Harry passed along the message that you're very busy lately, so I understand if this will take you a few days to get to.

Things at Hogwarts are going well. You should see how much it has changed. Perhaps it's not actually that much, but it feels like it after having seen the same things for six years. And the things that were left the same look absolutely lovely. When you come back for a visit, whenever that may be, you'll need to come see the castle for yourself. You'll be blown away.

Classes have gone about as normal. Everyone is very much in their element, and trying to continue on as normal without denying anything that has happened. It's rather refreshing, especially after the chaos the Fudge administration caused by doing the same thing.

Most of our friends are back to repeat their years. Surprisingly, Neville's taken a job with Kingsley as an Auror. He wanted to follow his parents' footsteps. He's truly grown so much from what I remember of him.

Things are, for the most part, fairly calm right now. I hope America is calming you as much as you've claimed. Harry seems to think your letters are short because you're upset, but I told him not to worry too much.

Please know you're on our mind, Becca, even though you're not around. We aren't likely to forget you.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, September 25, 1998

Hermione,

While I appreciate what your letter is probably attempting to do (which is digging for information in disguise of being on my side), I must ask you not do it again. I'm doing well enough, but as I've told Harry and Draco, I'm extremely busy. I apologize if I seem short, but I have much on my mind as of late and it's difficult to formulate clear thoughts on parchment sometimes.

I don't know if I will be ready to visit Hogwarts at any point in the near future. Or perhaps ever. It seems a drastic statement, but I'm still recovering from many ordeals, so it could be residual paranoia talking. We shall see. As of now, I haven't planned any visits back home. I'm needed here, as there have been some uprisings of some blokes who think themselves the next vessels for Voldemort. Bloody crazy.

That's all I can say on the matter, however. I'm sure it'll be in the papers over there soon enough. They're causing quite the annoyance.

No, I don't have time for dating right now, and I'm too frustrated to play nice with anyone at the moment, let alone the near future.

Let's hope for all of our sakes that my stress levels return to normal soon.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, September 26, 1998

Rebecca,

I'm sorry—I should know better by now than to try and pull something so stupid on you. But you can't blame me for trying.

Thank you for opening up a bit more about what's bothering you. I know that with you leading the chase, you'll have those men apprehended in no time.

Feel better.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, September 30, 1998

Rebecca,

Please write me back as soon as you can. We just got the news in the Prophet about your Ministry being attacked, but they're not sure of any more information. We're all glued to our radios.

Please be all right.

Love,

Harry

Severus, September 31-October 6, 1998

All of Hogwarts seemed on edge. The uprisings in America were not what any of them needed at this point. But there were always going to be fanatics. And one of his former students was at the forefront of all of this, leading the chase against them. And she hadn't been heard from in a number of days, if his listening into Granger's quiet conversations in his class were to be believed.

But the know-it-all's hand didn't shoot up in the air nearly as quickly as it once did. She was distracted. She would be concerned for her friend. Being the Head Auror, Rebecca wouldn't be allowed to go home for quite some time, being required to sleep at the Ministry most likely. But most of the day would be spent on her feet, directing the flow of Aurors and other officials, telling people what to do and how to deal with maniacs.

Unfortunately, she had a lot of practice in those areas. She wasn't, at first glance, what someone might think of as a natural leader. But, like Potter, she had turned out that way once she had been able to grow into her personality, away from those who abused her into submission. She would be fine.

But that didn't stop him from listening to the wizarding news on radio between classes, after meals. Almost constantly, his ear, along with everyone else's in the school, was practically glued to the device. Classes were difficult to get through. Flitwick dismissed his First and Second Year students, as they above all others were having a hard time coping with the terror that plagued them. So young, so accustomed to the turmoil, but unable to deal with it appropriately, because they had not yet developed the necessary skills.

It was a few days before Hermione Granger finally asked if he would permit her to have her radio on low during class. She looked haggard, worn, as if she hadn't slept. Severus met her gaze for a long time before finally nodding subtly.

"But if I can hear it over the sound of my own voice, Miss Granger, I will take it from you for the remainder of class and dock House Points," he said sharply.

"Yes, sir," Granger said, turning the device on. In the silence, in was a droning sound. Soon, he could hear nothing from the front of the classroom. And he began his lecture, the students dutifully taking notes. Granger scribbled on the parchment before her.

Half-way through class, she let out a very sudden sob, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. The whole class turned to look at her. Severus' attention snapped to her, and he motioned upward with his hand. Granger's eyes were wide with terror and confusion.

"Turn it up, girl," Severus snapped.

Granger reached to the device, turning the volume dial all the way up. The voice that carried through the room was not familiar, as he was expecting it.

"For those just tuning in, Deputy Head Auror Jamie Turner is speaking to the crowd gathered in the lobby area of the American Ministry of Magic. He has news of the final battle that took place."

Severus stood stock still. The Deputy Head Auror. The Head Auror was always in charge of delivering the news of any such groups, of any fighting. What had happened to her?

"The man who was the ring-leader for the group called 'The Faithful Followers of the Dark Lord' has been apprehended. In a heroic display, Head Auror Rebecca Felan overpowered him while dueling several of his followers. The Head Auror is currently recovering from her ordeal in a secure location."

A pause as the shuffling of papers could be heard over the radio.

"This group has been plaguing the Washington, D.C., area for nearly a month. Their power grew slowly after the falling of You-Know-Who in May. It suddenly took a turn for the worse when the man who claimed to be possessed by the remainder of You-Know-Who's soul, Chester Blakely, made himself known to the followers of the group. With a leader to rally behind, the group gained strength. This is when they began their assault on the muggle population. When the Aurors rose up to strike them down, they would change tactics or disappear. Because of the efforts of Head Auror Felan, myself, and several of our veteran Aurors, we were able to determine when they were going to strike against the Ministry itself and were prepared for them."

A pause, then another voice spoke up.

"The Deputy Head Auror will now take a few questions."

A cacophony of noise came over the speakers of the radio.

"Deputy, can you tell us of the condition of the Head Auror?"

"I am not at liberty to release that information at this time."

More noise.

"Deputy, are there any casualties to the side of the Ministry? What about the wounded? Have their families been notified?"

A pause. "We have suffered three casualties. Besides that, ten of our Aurors were wounded. They are all currently being taken care of, and we are working on locating the next-of-kin for all thirteen Aurors."

More yelling.

"Deputy, can it yet be confirmed if this Chester Blakely is actually harboring the soul of You-Know-Who?"

"You-Know-Who was killed by Harry Potter in May." His voice was tense, short. "There is no possibility that Mr. Blakely was anything but a follower of You-Know-Who driven mad by the knowledge of his final death. One final question."

Frantic yelling, more noise.

"Deputy, can you at least confirm whether or not Head Auror Felan is living? She must have family and friends at home who are wondering."

"As I've said, I'm not at liberty to discuss anything pertaining to Head Auror Felan. Thank you for your questions, but I must excuse myself."

The radio show broadcasting the American channel faded out the noise and the commentators began to speak.

"Our hearts go out to those who are listening in for information about Rebecca Felan, war hero and spy for the Order of the Phoenix," the voice said solemnly. "We will have updates upon her condition, that of the injured American Aurors, and the leader of the group as soon as new information is obtained."

Granger was completely pale. The rest of the class was looking none the better. In the pit of his stomach, Severus could feel too many emotions at once bubbling within him. Regret, blame, shame, anger, frustration…

"Class dismissed," he barked. "You'll all be useless to me for the remaining thirty minutes. Your homework is still as it is laid out upon your syllabus, whether or not we've had the time to cover it in class."

The students hurried to get their things together, none of them speaking. But he could see it written on all of their faces: the worry, the concern, the confusion. The Dark Lord had been vanquished, but any sort of news to the contrary this close to his death was bound to scare anyone. Granger tarried, seeming uncertain on her feet. She made her way toward the front of the classroom, holding onto the radio as if it were a lifeline.

Severus watched her pass him and go out the door, where a couple of other Gryffindors were waiting to usher her off to their common room.

He retreated to his office, turning on the radio there and leaving it on. That was his last class of the day, and there would be time before dinner. But Severus did not feel particularly hungry, and professors were only required to attend one meal a day in the Great Hall. He would be surprised if he wasn't the only one not showing up to the meal.

But he needed to go, to not show concern. The chit had made her own choices, and, if the Deputy Head's tone and words were any indication, she'd done something stupid to get this wizard to submit to her. If she had come to harm because of that, it was hardly his fault.

Even if it was his fault that she had left in the first place.

His fist hit the hard wood of his desk before he knew what was happening. The nerves lit up, sending a shockwave up his arm. But Severus did not move his arm. He sat still, listening to the news station. But nothing was happening. And nothing happened for the next thirty minutes.

He prepared himself for dinner in the Great Hall. Still no news.

The Great Hall was very quiet. Murmurs passed between students at the same tables. Other students wandered from table to table, spreading words Severus could only fathom. Granger was not at the Gryffindor table.

Severus ate his food and sipped upon his wine, looking for all the world the picture of calm. Minerva leaned over to him, as he had the pleasure of being seated beside her now as her Deputy Headmaster.

"Severus, while I appreciate your putting on your mask in an attempt to keep the Great Hall calm, I believe you're frightening the younger students," she said quietly.

Severus' gaze lifted, and he saw the students in question watching the staff table carefully. He softened his features minutely, and the students looked the better for it, looking away.

He rolled his eyes. "First years," he said, sighing.

"They're young, Severus," Minerva said. "Children. They're frightened, as are we all, though others of us have a difficult time admitting it."

"She has made her own bed, Minerva," Severus said, glancing at the older witch. "It is time Miss Felan learn to lie in it."

Minerva scoffed. "You cannot tell me you don't feel an ounce of fear for her, Severus," Minerva said. "I know how fiercely you protected her this past year."

"At Albus' behest."

"Albus was dead," Minerva whispered, staring at the man directly. "Dead, Severus. You cannot fool me. I have known you for too long, and I've seen you at your worst and your best. You would not wish harm upon any of your students or former students, no matter your feelings towards them."

"Be careful, Minerva," Severus said, voice smooth. "You're frightening the younger students."

Minerva's lips tightened into a line so thin they almost disappeared entirely. Severus stood and left the Great Hall, returning to his office where papers awaited him from the third years.

The night proved longer than he imagined. His radio droned on in the background. There wasn't more information to be had. Washington was five hours ahead of their time, which meant it had been about nine-thirty when the report had come on over the radio. It was now nearing elven-thirty here. There was likely going to be no news until the early hours of the morning there, which meant very late at night here.

Severus graded diligently, trying not to let the radio distract him. Or his stray thoughts, wondering about her and her safety. If he had not said those things. If he had written back in response to her letter. What would have happened then? Would he still feel the same sense of misery every time he recalled her to mind?

The last essay was on the opposite side of his desk. Severus reached for the next one, but his hand fell upon an empty desk. He set down his raven-feather quill and looked long at it, recalling when she had given it to him. Why did he even still use it? The clock upon the wall behind him chimed three in the morning, and Severus wondered where the time had gone, and also how leniently he had graded those particular essays.

The radio beeped repeatedly and loudly, and Severus eyes darted so that it came into view.

"The American Ministry is about to address the wizarding world. It's seven a.m. in Washington, D.C., and there has been no news from the Ministry for nearly ten hours. Their representative is taking the stage now."

They switched the stations, and there was a silence like Severus had never heard on the radio before.

"Good morning to those in the States and good afternoon and evening to those in the rest of the world listening in."

Her voice, floating through the room. It reached his ears, and a calm spread through him.

"I'd like to apologize for the secrecy up until this point, particularly to my family and friends back home in England who are not going to be very happy with me."

Tense laughter from the crowd.

"But I would like to say that I'm doing well."

Her voice wavered only slightly on that statement, but Severus knew what it was. A lie. She was injured, but obviously not badly enough to keep her from the public. Already, America loved her as Britain had grown to love their war hero: friend of Harry Potter, spy for the Order, and pretty, young Slytherin with the heart of a Gryffindor. A perfect poster child. And Rebecca ever knew how to play the role she'd been given.

"I have been questioning the leader of The Faithful Followers of the Dark Lord all night. I would like to comfort the wizarding world as a whole that Chester Blakely does not currently, nor never had, the Dark Lord in residence inside his person."

She had to pause for the round of applause and cheers that broke through the crowd listening.

"The other followers have been taken into custody by my Aurors," she continued once the noise had settled down. "And we are currently questioning each of them to find out if there are more followers, more groups like them. As the information comes, I or my Deputy will pass it along. The wizarding world can rest easy once more."

Massive applause. Severus could practically picture her, looking tired, trying to feign her well-being, but hiding some sort of wound until she was out of sight of cameras, radios, and other people. He closed his eyes, picturing her. She spoke up at that point, and her mouth in his mind moved along with the words.

"I would like to personally apologize to the wizarding world for not having these criminals and chaos-creators in custody sooner, but it was difficult to deal with a problem of this magnitude with as little casualties as possible on either side. Those who gave their lives for their Ministry or who were wounded in combat will receive medals, to be announced at a later time."

There was a pause as she seemed to catch her breath.

"For now, I'm very tired and I need my rest. No questions, please."

The radio program faded out the cries for her attention. But Severus shut the device off with a flick of his hand, eyes still closed.

She was alive, but not well. She had been hurt somehow, but that was likely not going to be revealed to the media. Granger was likely to know, but wouldn't share with just anyone. His curiosity burned.

He didn't realize he was asleep until she appeared before him, wearing her brown silk dress. The same one she'd worn at his birthday celebration, if one could even call it that. It fit her well, this dress. Complemented her curves without revealing too much. Here, she didn't look uncomfortable, not as she had whenever she wore something like it. Her scars did not bother her.

Severus knew at any point he could stop the dream, but he let it continue. This was different from her in his previous dreams. Before, they would be talking. Now, the dream Severus opened his mouth to speak, but she did not allow him to.

She kissed him, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. And the dream Severus succumbed to her, pulling her flat against him and burying his hands in her hair.

Severus forced his eyes open, ending the dream. He still sat in his chair, the Third Year essays before him on his desk. And a rage built up within him. His dreams had transformed her into some sort of sexualized being. And that was never his intention, to see her in that light. She had been a student, someone under his protection, and he had failed so many ways in that regard.

Now, she was out of his hands. She was on her own completely. She was surviving, thriving in certain ways. But he knew that she was not as well as she wanted the rest of the world to think. Her letter, her voice upon the radio, it all pointed to these things. If people only knew what to look for.

But this was not his concern. She was none of his concern anymore. And he wanted nothing to do with her, he reminded himself. He didn't even want to be alive when she had saved him.

Severus stood from his chair, his left side somewhat stiff from his slumber. He stretched his leg before limping his way to his quarters, to prepare himself for what sleep he could get before his morning class.

"But tell me now where was my fault / in loving you with my whole heart? / Oh, tell me now where was my fault / in loving you with my whole heart? / Her white blank page / and a swelling rage, rage. / You did not think when you sent me to the brink, to the brink. / You desired my attention, but denied my affections, my affections. / So tell me now where was my fault / in loving you with my whole heart? / Oh, tell me now where was my fault / in loving you with my whole heart?" – "White Blank Page" by Mumford & Son

Rebecca, October 7, 1998

The past nine days had been very difficult. The first attack on the American Ministry had come without any warning, and they had been completely unprepared. During this initial attack by the opposing group, the Ministry had a few officials wounded, and one dead Auror. A new recruit, who had thought he could overtake a majority of the offending group without waiting for backup. It had been a bold move, and he had been successful in Stunning a few of his opponents. But they were aiming to kill, whereas the Aurors were not.

That was when Rebecca had first become shaken: looking down at the young man who'd died because of their ineptitude, because they hadn't been thinking that The Faithful Followers of the Dark Lord had the manpower to pull a stunt like this. She had nearly broken down there, but led the assault against their attackers after pulling herself together, slipping once more into the spy mask that she had hoped could have been put away once the war was over.

With the recruits that were there and very few of the veteran Aurors, who were away on business at the time, they pushed back the group and took captive a few of those they'd managed to Stun. Rebecca had all ten lined up in a room together with her and her Deputy Head Jamie Turner. She had Jaime hold each captive's head still and keep their eyes open so she could look into their minds. This was more difficult than she anticipated. She hadn't practiced since she'd been taught, so the first captive was slow-going. He had defenses, though nothing so particular as full-fledged Occlumency. After that, it became somewhat easier, but she tired quickly.

But she ascertained their numbers. Hundreds, maybe nearly three hundred. Much larger than they had anticipated. And their hideout was underground, a forgotten part of the Smithsonian—a basement of some kind. She could see it in her mind, taken from theirs.

She called her veteran Aurors to her and told them her plan. Many were against it, but it was the only hope they had. Rebecca transfigured her features, changing her outer appearance into an entirely different race, gender, height, and weight, matching almost exactly one of their captives. Next, Rebecca chose a new recruit to pretend to be her. The young woman was nervous and tried to refuse, but Rebecca stopped her.

"You're the only one who has the aptitude for acting," she said quietly. "They will not notice your disappearance as much as they would a higher-ranking official. They'll think they've injured you. If you do this, I'll promote you immediately upon my return. You proved yourself during the attack, and you will completely pass your other tests anyway if you can do this."

The young woman, Brianne, who reminded Rebecca vaguely of Tonks, finally agreed. Rebecca watched her transfiguration process and gave her pointers on how to replicate the scars. The Dark Mark could not be replicated, so she was ordered to wear long sleeves no matter what.

And then Rebecca had gone under cover with the group, The Faithful Followers of the Dark Lord. She had glimpsed into this man's head longer than most, so it was easy to pick up on his speech, his mannerisms, and his body language habits. More importantly, she had kept company with fanatics for the whole previous year—acting like them was not much of a stretch.

This man was important enough to the group that Rebecca was sent out on a mission to scout the Ministry by herself. When she returned, she had them convinced that it would be practically empty and for the taking on the night of the fifth. Their leader, Chester Blakely, was a good reader of people, but he was no Legilimens. He believed her, and set the date. On her next mission alone, Rebecca entered the Ministry and warned her counterparts and gave them time to plan.

Before the attack that night, she was put on duty at the front. Rebecca stole into the Ministry and transfigured herself back to normal in time for the battle. Brianne she forced to change back.

"You won't be hurt in battle because they think you're me," Rebecca had said sternly.

The look she gave the girl was enough to get her to hop to transfiguring herself back hurriedly.

The battle had been nearly as chaotic as the one in Hogwarts. So fresh from that battle, Rebecca felt her movements smoothing out, becoming fluid, flowing into one another. The other Aurors held their own formidably, but no opponent could stand against Rebecca for long at all. These were not the trained, powerful Death Eaters she was used to.

Finally, Chester Blakely entered the fray, his officers surrounding him. He began firing off spells without regard to what they were or where he was shooting them. Rebecca rushed forward to end things, regardless of her own safety. Only now that things were over did she realize that at that moment, she didn't care if she was putting her life in jeopardy.

She had been tired, in need of sleep, but she hadn't felt so focused in months as when the four officers stepped forward to intercept her. Her robes flew behind her as her wand thrust forward again and again, Disarming two, Stunning another, and Binding the fourth. By the time she'd finally turned to Blakely, he had his wand up and pointed. She pushed out her Shield Charm as she approached him.

He was a better duelist than most she had encountered with the group, but he was not the best. He let Rebecca get too close. She ended it not with magic. Her focus was lost, her hair wild, and her mind too tired. So she lifted her arm and, unexpectedly, punched him hard enough in the face that he fell, nose bloodied, to the ground with a hard "thunk!"

As she swayed on the spot, but maintained her footing long enough to realize that she was bleeding from a couple of places where spells had scratched her skin on their way past. Her legs were unsteady because a weak jinx had hit her, and perhaps her knee may have been injured somewhere along the way.

Jamie was by her side within a few moments, having been behind her. Other Aurors were flooding around her, binding the remaining Followers and beginning to cart them off. Someone made to do the same with Blakely. Rebecca pointed at him, pushing Jamie off, not needing to be touched right now on top of everything else.

"He's mine," she said, her voice stern.

Gregory immediately took his hands off Blakely.

"Miss Tate!" Rebecca yelled.

"Here, Miss Felan!" Brianne's voice called from somewhere behind her.

"You were successful in impersonating me," Rebecca said, turning to look at the young woman. "You've been promoted, as promised. Now help the others clean this up. We'll get you the regular Auror robes tomorrow."

Brianne looked very proud of herself, smiling for all she was worth while helping the others clean everything up and get everyone under control.

Rebecca and Jamie took the Stunned Blakely into an interrogation room, where Rebecca had to work to break down his defenses. His Occlumency was fairly average, but his will was strong. It took her the majority of the night, but she finally broke through to find he didn't have the Dark Lord inside of him. And then she let her mind rest for a moment.

She was in her flat now, alone. Minister Smith had sent her home for two days' rest. Rebecca had had her wounds attended to after speaking to the press and not a moment sooner. The mediwitch had berated her for waiting to attend to herself for so long, but Rebecca didn't hear her.

She sat on her couch, staring at the blank screen of the telly. She didn't want to turn it on, not wanting the noise. Everything seemed to go at a much slower pace, now that she was no longer in a battle. And she kept returning to the moment of realization, when she knew she didn't care if she died or not. Was this depression? Was it what Mr. Able had said, the post-traumatic stress disorder? Perhaps a combination. At the moment, she felt apathetic to it all.

America had accepted her with open arms, the wizarding public glad of her arrival to help sort out the leaderless Aurors and take down the groups still around, wanting to praise the Dark Lord. Her station was solidified, and she would be surprised if she got any rest after this. But she didn't want the rest. She wanted to fill her mind up with as many things as possible. But mostly, she was just angry.

She could still feel it pulling upon her in battle, harnessing the rage she felt almost constantly about everything pushing her forward, helping her get through her weary state. She pushed her magic farther, her body more. And at some moments, it was hard not to relive how she'd felt. Overall, she had been scared. So utterly frightened, except for that one moment of acceptance. This thought of accepting death so easily scared her even more.

For the thousandth time, Rebecca wondered what she'd been thinking when she accepted this job.

But it was time to prepare herself for her yoga class. After that, it was meditation. The next night it would be karate. And then her routine would reinstate itself. Work, brewing, and whatever class or workout regimen she had designed for that day. And hopefully it would fill her mind.

But she couldn't help but think of him still. Certainly he had known how she'd felt. At some point, she had even thought he might return the feelings, even if it was only in part. Those memories were easy to recall. He had a capacity for kindness, but did not wish to allow many to see it. But all kindness had been set aside in his last words to her. Still, he had returned to see her on her last night in England. To taunt her? Probably. And she had sent that letter to him, thinking what?

There was no use in trying to think on him anymore. It simply made her feel the anger building up inside of her once more.

She pushed Severus Snape to the farthest recesses of her mind that she could manage, shutting him up inside of a box. He had made her what she was, in many respects: spy, duelist, Occlumens, and Legilimens. But those were simply titles. That was not who she was entirely. Perhaps that was what he had forgotten along the way, but Rebecca was not about to let herself forget that. So she would think no more of him in the hopes that her anger would subside.

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, Ron, Hermione, & Draco, October 8, 1998

All,

Again, I've copied this letter for the sake of brevity.

I'm sorry that I had to drop off the grid for so long. I was the only one who could do the mission that was required to get this group to come into the Ministry so that we could be prepared. Surely you'll all work out what that means, knowing my past. I'm sorry if I worried any of you, but I had to do what needed to be done. As a result… well, you all know the results.

Physically, I'm fine. Perhaps a few more scars here and there, but nothing serious. I'll need to work out my knee injury, and after a couple of weeks that should be back to normal.

Mentally, I'll recover. Being back in battle is not a fun experience, especially after being without it for only a couple of months. But I'm fine and I'll continue to do my work just as well as I've done it up until this point.

I'm personally regretful of the people under my care who gave their lives or were injured. That's all I'll say on the subject, as I'm not ready to talk about it just yet, so please don't ask.

Please feel free to write me in return. I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, October 9, 1998

Becca,

Thank Merlin you're all right! You had us all worried sick. But I do understand what you're saying you had to do, and I'm sorry you had to go through with it. I know it's something you were trying to get away from here. I hope you won't have to do it again.

From everyone at the Burrow, we wish you a safe recovery period. We're sure you taught anyone who thought to rise against the Ministry a thing or two.

Love,

Harry, Remus, & the Weasleys

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, October 10, 1998

Rebecca,

If you were here, I'd hug you. As it stands, you have this letter that may or may not have been held desperately in my grasp. Obviously, you'll wish to lean more on the side of not.

We all worried for your safety. All of us over here were afraid that he had actually come back. I'm glad you stayed with Blakely to find out whether or not the Dark Lord was a part of him. And yes, I got that from the little your letter said, and also from the fact that you didn't emerge for nearly nine hours. I can put two and two together—I am a Slytherin still, for Merlin's sake. Let the rest of the world live in daftness.

Mother and Father send their love and hopes for a speedy recovery to you. And I suppose I do too.

Also, before you hear it from Potter or anyone else who might blow it out to insufferable proportions, I'm going with Astoria Greengrass to her Hogsmeade trip later this month.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, October 12, 1998

Harry & Co.,

Thank you for the well-wishes. Things have been very quiet, but we're being much more vigilant than we were prior to all of the recent events. I'd like to think Alastor would be proud of the constant-ness of it. Come to think of it, whatever happened to his wand?

Has Andromeda been able to get all of the repairs made that she needed to? I hope her home is habitable sooner rather than later.

On a different note, I suspect Halloween to be interesting this year. I'm going to a work party. Wish me luck.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, October 13, 1998

Draco,

Your arrogance and Slytherin smugness are noted and missed. I love you, too.

Please tell your parents I'm doing well on my recovery. My knee should be back to mostly normal function faster than I anticipated.

And Astoria Greengrass? Like them a bit younger now, Draco? Well, if I remember correctly, I'm sure she'll be of-age soon enough. If you don't mind my asking (and even if you do), what struck you to begin trying to court the young Miss Greengrass?

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, October 14, 1998

Becca,

Andromeda's house is coming along well. They should have it done quite soon, she says. And she also sends her thanks once more for all your help in that regard.

I still have Alastor's wand, thankfully, and I've enclosed it for you. Like I said before, I think he'd want you to have it more than me, anyway. It served me well this past year after my wand broke.

And a Halloween party? I'm sure that should be fun. We're having one too—the Ministry, that is, for all its employees. I'll miss the feast at Hogwarts, though.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, October 15, 1998

Rebecca,

Don't get all sappy on me, Felan. It's most unbecoming of Slytherins such as ourselves.

As for Astoria, we always have spoken to one another at gatherings and such—pureblood parties or whatnot that will most likely not take place anymore, thankfully. She's smart, witty, and funny and I enjoy her company. She's definitely less clingy that Pansy and more in-line with my thinking than some of the other Slytherins that we went to school with. That's why, since you've so boldly asked though it wasn't your place.

Whatever happened to that solicitor, anyway?

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, October 16, 1998

Harry,

I'll miss the feasts, too. And I'm hoping this party will be fun. I told Minister Smith at least not to make it a masquerade and save me a heart-attack. We're not allowing masks, which I'm hopeful is something everyone will adhere to. I can't wait for the moron that tries to get in with a Death Eater mask because he thought it was funny. I'll hex him myself.

Thank you for Alastor's wand. I'll keep it in my nightstand, as he would've wanted it. Constantly vigilance and all that. I'll try it a bit later and see how it responds to me.

I'm glad to hear Andromeda's house is coming along well. I hope she has no trouble moving back in.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, October 17, 1998

Draco,

I'll get as sappy as I want. I nearly died, you ass. Give me some leniency.

I hope you and Astoria have fun. You should definitely dish when you get back, though. I won't feel as though we're proper girlfriends until that happens.

As for the solicitor, I've seen him on occasion on the Metro (travel system in D.C.—think electric train… electricity meaning… Damn it, go look it up or ask Hermione). But I've kept my distance until he finally approached me when I was getting off one day. I told him in no uncertain terms that I'm not interested in dating anyone, much less him, and that he shouldn't take it personally. Luckily for me, I seem to be particularly frightening when I'm stressed and angry, so he took the hint. Honestly, he was ungodly polite and nice. It was unnerving.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, October 18, 1998

Rebecca,

Seemed to have developed an affection for witty, sarcastic assholes, I see.

We'll never be proper girlfriends until you can learn to joke about it, Felan, so humour me.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, October 19, 1998

Draco,

I'll humour you with your jokes, but I won't participate.

Have you gone on that Hogsmeade trip yet? I seem to remember they're around this point in the year.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, October 20, 1998

Rebecca,

Just returned from Hogsmeade. The weather's getting cold enough for snow, but it's more in that irritating phase of just being bloody cold and windy for now rather than giving off much of a Yule spirit.

Astoria's been reading up on muggle culture, and she told me the Americans have a celebration for their country's founding that involves over-eating and drunkenness. Please let me know if you participate, it sounds like wonderful Yankee fun. You also never told me all about how they celebrate their freedom by trying to blow themselves up with colorful explosions. You've been remiss in your duties to culturally educate me like you promised.

We also had a lovely time. Until you tell me more about these delightful celebrations, you'll get no more information.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, October 22, 1998

Draco,

The celebration with the explosions you're referring to is the fourth of July, or Independence Day as it's known here. There's apparently a popular movie about it made a few years ago that involves the Americans saving the world from aliens. Because we all know that would happen. I seem to recall the Brits just saved the whole world from a crazed maniac not a few months ago, but you don't see a film on that. The celebration also involves a lot of drinking. The fireworks, as the explosions are called, if done by professionals, are actually quite beautiful. I managed to take some pictures of them, which I've enclosed.

The other holiday you're talking about is Thanksgiving. It's supposed to celebrate the coming together of the Pilgrims (the muggles who first landed here) and the Native Americans. All I remember the Pilgrims doing is giving the Native Americans smallpox and taking away their land. It's now evolved into some sort of celebration where everyone takes off work and hangs round with their families (whom they all hate), which means they have to put themselves into a comatose state with excessive eating and drinking in order to make the situation tolerable. At least that's the gist I've gotten out of it.

Americans really are amusing.

Now dish, girlfriend.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, October 23, 1998

Rebecca,

Astoria and I had a lovely time. I think I'm actually beginning to quite like her. Potter suggested I invite her on an outing we were planning on taking in a couple of weekends to watch a Quidditch match. I posed it to her, and she accepted. We'll be watching Flint's team if you'd like me to tell him hello from you?

So, yes, she'll probably be a permanent fixture for the foreseeable future. We haven't made any stupid plans about once she gets out of Hogwarts or even what will happen after the next couple of months. We're seeing where things are headed. There doesn't seem to be a rush anymore, you know?

I think I'll have to visit America one day to see these lovely sights. Let me know what other holidays they turn into an excuse for drinking.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, October 24, 1998

Draco,

I do believe you got serious on me for a while there. It was frightening—please don't do it again without prior warning.

In any case, I'm glad to hear things are working out with Astoria.

Also, they will have any excuse for drinking, I've discovered. But it's not unlike us, I suppose. Though I never quite got into alcohol too much.

Please tell Marcus I said hello, and that I hope he's doing well.

Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, October 25, 1998

Rebecca,

I wanted to send you a letter to see how things were going. I won't repeat what others have said about this month's earlier ordeal. That part is done for.

How has your work been going with the Potions Master? I'm sure it's well, knowing your proficiency, but you'll have to forgive my curiosity.

Things have gone pretty much back to normal around Hogwarts. Everyone was really frightened for a while—you could almost see it hanging in the air like a cloud. McGonagall did her best to keep everyone calm, but you could tell she was worried, too.

Professor Snape even let me listen to the radio in class. I know I shouldn't mention him, but it was so out of character that I can't help myself.

In any case, I hope things are going more smoothly for you now that the Faithful Followers are out of the way and in whatever the equivalent to Azkaban is in America.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, October 26, 1998

Hermione,

I'm sorry to hear Hogwarts was in such a state. Hopefully nothing will put them in such another one any time soon. All of the groups seem to have backed off for the most part, so I'm hopeful they'll disband and just give it a rest.

My brewing has been going well. We've almost gotten my potion patented. I just have to go to a few more meetings and then sign a few pieces of paper, and then I can begin to market it. He's going to help me in making sure I get at least 60% of the proceeds from each sale, considering it's the first of its kind.

It is quite out of character, but I wouldn't think too much about it. He has a general capacity for caring, but has difficulty showing it.

Things are going more smoothly. I've gained much respect since capturing Blakely and getting the information I needed from him using the powers that I have. Legilimency is still frowned upon, but not if you're using it appropriately, I suppose. The Minister is still more likely to have everyone thinking I tortured the information from Blakely instead of letting the whole world know I have Legilimency. At this point, I think it matters little who knows about it, but Ministers enjoy trying to play a game they're inadequately prepared for.

I hope things are going well for you. I'm sure your studies are well.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, October 26, 1998

Harry,

I tried out Alastor's wand tonight, as I remembered that I hadn't. I cast a simple Shield Charm, and I set of my flat's smoke detector since it created the largest puff of smoke I've ever seen. I used my wand to dispel the smoke, then sat to think about how to get the wand to realize I was a friend of its former master.

Did it give you such trouble?

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, October 27, 1998

Becca,

The wand is a bit strange, like Moody was. It wouldn't work properly for me at first, either. I tried a couple of different things at first, like Disarming Hermione with it with her wand, but nothing really seemed to work until I started talking about Moody. Then it worked. I'm sure Ollivander has some sort of explanation about it, but I just think wands are weird and a lot more sentient than we give them credit for, especially considering how old some of them must be, like the Elder Wand.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, October 28, 1998

Harry,

I told the wand about the night Alastor died, and all that he did to train me, even the bad parts. It works for me now. Thank you for the advice.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Ron to Rebecca, October 29, 1998

Becca,

Glad to hear you're doing all right. You had me scared for a while. I know you've heard that a lot, but I need to say it too. I know I don't write a lot—you know my skill and patience for it. But I wanted you to know that I still think about you and I do care like you're another sister of mine.

Becca, I wanted to write and tell you, coz I've been talking with Harry about this and I need a female's opinion too. I know you won't tell, coz this is important. I'm gonna ask 'mione to marry me.

I have the ring, but I need to plan the perfect event for it. I'm obviously not thinking Halloween—I'm dumb sometimes, but not that daft. So, in your opinion as a girl, what would sweep you off your feet?

Ron

Letter from Rebecca to Ron, October 30, 1998

Ron,

I don't think you have any idea how much your letter made my day when I read it. I'll be glad to help.

Hermione and I are of a similar nature, so this shouldn't be too difficult. Just be yourself, Ron. She really does love you. It's been fairly evident since that whole debacle with Lavender, and maybe even before that. Take her somewhere nice that you know she likes. Even if it's just a picnic with the two of you with a nice view. Be sincere. I know you can be. Don't hold anything back. Girls are suckers for emotional tripe—trust me. It's not just nonsense to us like how you blokes see it. Tell her why you love her, when you realized it, how you want to spend the rest of your life together, etc.

Up until that point, try not to let on what's happening. Act normally. Look to Harry for some acting tips. No offense, but you're horrid at playing any other emotion besides angry very convincingly.

And, naturally, tell me how it went afterward.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Ron to Rebecca, October 30, 1998

Becca,

Will do. I have some ideas now, and I'll even write things down so I have a speech, but I'll put them where she can't find them. Thanks so much for your help. You're the best!

Love,

Ron

Rebecca, October 31, 1998

She checked herself one last time in the mirror before leaving her flat. This was the only thing that came to mind when she thought of a Halloween costume. Hopefully, it would go over well. She'd picked a well-known figure muggle figure, but the wizarding community here seemed a bit more in-touch with muggle things in general than the British wizards and witches.

The blue dress she'd made a bit more modern, so as not to be completely outrageous. Her hair she left down, curling it slightly at the ends. Her wand she kept out, and could keep out even in the sight of muggles. The shoes were flats, black. If anything were to happen, she didn't want to be stuck in heels and fighting to get them off.

She strode out of her flat. It was the best she could do anymore, and she'd always liked the movie when she was growing up, even if now it seemed a bit childish. She made it to the Ministry without a moment to spare. The party was just starting.

Crowds were not her thing. And Rebecca couldn't help be reminded of this constantly as she made her way to Minister Smith to check in. Occasional bumps, unmeant but persistent, were obnoxious to most, but Rebecca didn't know many of these people well, and she worried how long she would be all right in the room with so many and so close together. Finally, the Minister came into view on his somewhat raised platform. Rebecca stepped onto it beside him, and he raised his eyebrow slightly as he took her in.

"Glinda?" he asked.

Rebecca shrugged. "Well, I thought it was funny."

Minister Smith smiled. "She does have red hair. A good choice. Most should understand and get a good laugh from it." He looked out over the slowly forming crowd. "How are the men at the door?"

"Doing their jobs," Rebecca said. "Making people take off their masks, making sure to check identities. There shouldn't be a problem."

"Very good," Minister Smith said. He turned to face her once more. "Try to have some fun tonight, Rebecca. There shouldn't be any cause otherwise."

"I'll do my best, sir," Rebecca said with a slight nod in his direction. "Let me know if you need me for anything."

She stepped off the platform and made her way toward the refreshment table to get a drink before it became too swarmed with people. While waiting for her elderflower wine, Jamie Turner approached.

"You make a good Glinda," he said, smirking. He turned to the bartender. "A brandy, please."

"Thanks," Rebecca answered, looking him over. "d'Artagnan?"

The bartender handed her the glass of wine. Rebecca took it with thanks.

"You're probably going to be the only one who gets it right," Jamie replied. "They all see the hat and think Musketeer, but they're only half-right."

"Well, there is only one of you," Rebecca said.

Jamie accepted his drink from the bartender as well. They turned from the table and made their way quickly from it, standing near a wall. Rebecca was the first to put her back to it. Jamie was more comfortable with his environment and stood in front of her and slightly to one side, giving her a good three feet between them and also a clear view of what was behind him.

"Why Glinda?" he asked.

"Only famous witch I could think of with red hair."

"I'd say you're pretty famous now."

"Because it wouldn't be arrogant showing up as myself."

"A good point," Jamie said, taking a sip. "If I may be frank—"

"You know I appreciate your frankness," Rebecca said, glancing at him once pointedly before scanning the room again.

"I wasn't sure of what to think when the Minister first told me you would be taking over as the Head Auror," he said. His words were careful and measured, not at all rushed.

Rebecca pushed her attention back to him. "I can't blame you. I'm younger than you and haven't held a job before. What could you have thought other than I'd be usurping or awful?"

Jamie shrugged apologetically, but pressed forward. "But now that I've gotten a chance to know you, to watch you in action, I understand why you earned the respect of someone like Alastor Moody."

"Just like you'll understand that his name still brings up certain memories I'd rather not think about when I've been ordered to have a good time by the Minister."

"I do understand, and I do have a point," Jamie said. "The previous Head Auror, he was very well and good, but I don't think he would have handled things as you have. Effectively, efficient. You knew what needed to be done, and you weren't going to risk anyone other than yourself. It's admirable."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Rebecca said. "But it was a logical decision. I'm the only one with any real spy training, and I'm one of the better ones at transfiguration. There wasn't time to brew, or I would've made a Polyjuice."

Jamie paused, looking down at her from his vantage height of a few inches. "What I'm trying to say is that you've done well. Better than I could've hoped for, really. Even if you don't feel like the Aurors are behind you, they are."

Rebecca gave a short-lived smile. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Speaking of, I want Tate to have more time with the Transfiguration expert. I think she'll make a good spy should we have need of one."

"I'll make sure that happens, but let's not talk about work lest someone overhear us and try to invite us to dance to make us stop?" Jamie said.

The music had already started, and the center of the room was covered with Ministry employees in their Halloween finery: devils, literary figures, magical creatures of all kinds, and other, more muggle standards were seen everywhere. Thankfully, no masks.

Rebecca gave half a sneer. "A good point. Not much of a dancer?"

"I think our feelings of the action are mutual," he said.

"And the women here wonder why you don't have a girlfriend," Rebecca muttered into her glass, taking a sip.

He raised an eyebrow at her. Rebecca returned the look.

"Because you don't know what they say," she told him with a roll of her eyes.

"Just like quite a few recruits had their eyes on you the first few weeks after your arrival," Jamie said. "Unfortunately, I can't adopt a similar method of removing unwanted attention."

"Well, dueling everyone was the only thing that came to mind."

"Bloody fantastic duels," Jamie said.

"You were smart to not challenge me."

"I didn't make Deputy Head because of my looks," he answered simply.

Rebecca snorted.

"Merlin, people will think we're flirting," he said, moving to stand beside her.

"Because there are so many people watching us and not concerned with getting some themselves," Rebecca said.

"I'm also surprised—apologies in advance—that you're not among the younger crowd attempting to do the same."

"You sound like an old man," Rebecca said. "What are you, twenty-five? Come off it."

"I've heard rumors as to why you came here."

"Just that. Rumors," Rebecca said sternly before taking another sip of the wine. The flavor was indeed a bit wood-ish, but it was made from elm. It had a sweet aftertaste, something more enjoyable than other alcohols.

"I think that we're more alike than most people would initially think," he said. "That's why we get along well, and why you trust me."

"I had to trust you the moment I met you," Rebecca said. "You're my Deputy Head Auror. That trust needed to be implicit."

"Naturally," he said. "I feel as though we could be friends. Unlike others, I respect boundaries, and I understand you do as well."

Rebecca gave him a long look, watching the expression change upon his face. He was sincere, and he wasn't trying to pry. Once again, he was trying to make a point.

"Friends, indeed," Rebecca said, letting herself relax a bit before draining what was left in her glass. The bartender had only filled it up half-way, probably a technique to make the drinkers think they had imbibed more than they actually had, or to get people to continuously make their way toward the refreshments.

"I'll take that for a yes."

"Take it however you wish, Jamie," Rebecca said. "If you understand boundaries as well as you say that you do, you'll understand me better than most."

Jamie didn't respond, instead choosing to watch the crowd for a while. They remained in amiable silence. His brown hair— shaggy and cut a medium-short length, bangs having a tendency to get in his eyes if he wasn't careful—was swept back tonight, giving him a dashing, Musketeer-esque appearance. His blues eyes scanned the crowd, ever-watching for danger.

"I'm twenty-six," he said suddenly. "Which is eight years your senior."

"And yet you talk of being friends," Rebecca said.

"You were friends with Albus Dumbledore. Alastor Moody. Your professors are now your friends."

"Then why the need to express the age distinction?"

Jamie was quiet once more. "Perhaps to remind myself. The fact that you're so young still impresses a good many people, myself included."

"Not having much chance at a childhood certainly does things to people," Rebecca muttered.

There was a slight pause in the conversation.

He held out a hand. "I'll get you another wine," he said. "I'm in need of more brandy to make watching everyone else tolerable, I think."

"Sure," Rebecca said, handing over her glass. "Thank you."

He nodded, turning to make his way through the crowd and toward the refreshments once more. Rebecca watched him go, considering his words further. If he was attracted to her, he certainly could have been more persuasive or given more hints. But she didn't really sense that. Thinking back, he had never been social, much like her. Perhaps he really was looking for a friend. Merlin knew she could use someone to talk to occasionally.

A flash of white in the crowd caught her attention. Her head snapped forward to see more clearly. A mask. Black robes, white mask. Darkened eye covers. That was all she could make out, but it was all the confirmation she needed.

The crowd seemed to part for the masked person under the robes. Rebecca felt her blood running cold as she watched the person slip through the crowd. There wasn't a clear shot. She had nothing.

"Rebecca."

She jumped, turning to face Jamie once again, who was holding out a glass to her.

"What's the matter?" he asked, setting them down on the high-top table near them.

"Death Eater."

Without another word, he pulled his wand from his costume. He nodded and went back the way he had come. Rebecca moved toward the crowd, where she'd last seen the masked person.

She traced the mask's steps through the crowd, barely able to make it through. She could feel her panic setting in, and did her best to clear her mind, to focus. When she reached the outer corners of the dance floor, she felt something brush against her shoulder. Without thinking, she whirled around, the Death Eater mask dancing before her.

Rebecca could already hear the cackling of Bellatrix Lestrange, the snarls of Greyback, and the awful sounds of torture. With a swipe of her wand, the ground exploded about the Death Eater, sending him flying and screaming across the room. The room went shockingly quite as she approached the fallen Death Eater, intent to harm upon her face.

Jamie was running across the room, calling for her. The Minister was also barking orders for others to get to their senses.

Rebecca approached the Death Eater, wand pointed directly at the mask covering his face. Hands grasped her shoulders, and she turned upon Jamie, wand at his throat. He took his hands from her and kept them open.

"Rebecca, it's me," he said. "Stop. He's just wearing a Guy Fawkes mask."

She had immediately taken her wand from his neck at the sight of him, but blinked at his words. It had been a Death Eater's mask just moments ago. He had to be mistaken. It was a Death Eater.

Slowly, Rebecca turned to face the man lying on the ground. He'd taken off his mask.

"Taylor," she said.

"Taylor," Jamie repeated, stepping forward, "give me your mask."

Jamie took it from the man on the ground, who looked no worse for wear, except maybe a bit sore from the fall he took. The Deputy Head Auror turned the mask to face Rebecca.

"Guy Fawkes," she said. "Taylor, I'm sorry, I didn't see what type of mask it was—"

"It doesn't matter," Jamie said. "Taylor, the Minister gave an order against wearing any masks at the event. Get up, we're going to see him."

Jamie reached forward and took the man by the shoulders, dragging him up. He looked back to Rebecca.

"I'll take you home," he said. "You're too shaken up to Apparate."

Rebecca nodded vaguely in his direction, putting her wand away in the bag she carried with her everywhere. The gift from Hermione. She moved to the nearest wall, put her back to it. A couple of Ministry employees repaired the hole in the floor, and the music was swiftly turned back on. People started to ignore her again, but those who weren't busy dancing watched her warily, as if she might explode, too.

She didn't know how long it was before Jamie returned to her. "The Minister told me to take you home," he said. "And you can have the next two days off, if you need."

"Just get me home," she said quietly, arms crossed over her chest as she began walking toward the exit.

He followed her closely. Once they were outside, in an alleyway away from prying muggle eyes, he stepped toward her.

"You're going to side-along with me," he said. "Take my hand."

He held it out, waiting. Finally, Rebecca put her hand in his. After that, he wasted no time Apparating to the alley beside her flat, probably relying on a picture or the memories of visiting the previous Head Auror there. She let go of his hand, walking to the front of the building. He followed behind her quietly as she got out her key. After a quiet trip through the building and up two flights of stairs, he waited patiently as Rebecca opened her door. When they were inside, he stepped further in, looking everything over as she warded the door. She didn't want to turn around, not to face the disapproving look that was certain to be there. Rebecca rested her forehead against the cool wood of the door.

"You're not well, are you, Felan?"

Rebecca closed her eyes. "No, I'm not."

"You've seen someone about this?"

"Yes. It didn't help."

"Well, if the Minister doesn't know about it, he certainly does now," Jamie said with a sigh.

It grew silent once more.

"So are you going to stand there all night?"

"I'm hoping that I can somehow become one with this door without the use of my wand," Rebecca muttered.

A sigh. "You're cracking jokes and have your back to me. You can't be that bad off."

"Jokes are my defense mechanism and I have my back to you because I know that if I had to I could have you unconscious before you even got close to me."

"Fair point," Jamie said dryly. "What is it you Brits like, tea? I suppose you have a pot around here somewhere."

His easy demeanor and terse comments reminded her of both Harry and Draco. The thought was somewhat comforting. As she heard him move off, Rebecca turned around slowly to see him rummaging in the kitchen. He found the pot quickly, as if he already knew where it was, and set about to filling it with water. Rebecca pushed herself off the door and walked to her bedroom.

She changed out of the ridiculous Glinda costume and into jeans and a lightweight long-sleeve T-shirt. She emerged when the pot was just beginning to heat up, and found Jamie looking for cups. Rebecca entered the kitchen and stood on her tip-toes.

"Here," she said, reaching up into the cabinet and handing him one. "Thank you."

"Some semblance of normalcy tends to help."

Rebecca gave him a look over her shoulder as she walked across the kitchen for the bags of tea.

"My brother was in the Gulf War," Jaime said simply. "I recognize your symptoms. He was just older than you when he went to Iraq. Hasn't really ever been the same since, but he's gotten better."

"Your brother is a muggle?" Rebecca asked.

Jamie gave a single nod.

"Does he go to therapy, take the medicine?"

"He didn't at first. Then he got worse. After he held me at gunpoint because he thought he was still in Iraq, he did get help. He was given anti-psychotics at first, but they impaired his job with the military, so he stopped and relied on the therapy. Frank has good days and bad days, but the days are mostly good now."

The teapot whistled, and Rebecca removed it from the stove and cut the heat. She turned in a swift, graceful motion and poured the scalding water over the tea bags, then set the pot back on the stove. The crackling sound of the hot water pinging off the sides of the pot reached her ears, a comforting, familiar noise, as she turned back to face Jamie.

"I've never actually had English tea before," he said, raising an eyebrow at his teacup.

"I take mine black, usually," Rebecca said. "I prefer the taste that way. Most people put milk or cream and sugar. I'd give it a minute or two, try it, and then add to taste."

She retrieved the milk from the fridge and the sugar from the counter, plucking a spoon from its drawer. They were set before him within a few seconds of each other. When she finally paused in front of her own mug, she saw he was watching her.

"You learned to move like that," he said. "No one's that graceful unless they've practiced."

"My mentor taught me," Rebecca said, letting her hands fold over the mug of tea. The warmth seeped into her fingers, bringing feeling back to them.

"Severus Snape."

"Yes, him." She brought the mug up to her lips and blew, then took a sip from the tea. It scorched her lips and tongue, but she didn't care. She could feel it warming up her insides as it slid down her throat and into her stomach.

"I don't claim to be a great studier of people or facial expressions, but I know that when you go blank like that, you're actually angry," Jamie said, pointing vaguely at her face before picking up his mug and blowing on the tea.

Rebecca stayed quiet, taking another sip of her tea.

"I also know that we've never had a tighter-lipped Head Auror, or a less social one," Jamie said neutrally. "But we haven't had one in recent history that's so adept at tactics, training, or moving through the politics of the Ministry as you are. Nor have we had a Head Auror who plays so well at enjoying the company of others."

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Rebecca felt her walls come down for a split second. She could open up to him, allow him to understand what truly bothered her, why she still had difficulty sleeping at night, and any number of other things. But as soon as the thought had crossed her mind, her shields slipped back into place and she looked back to her tea, taking another sip. It was slowly becoming bearable in temperature.

Jamie looked at her for a few moments more before looking down at his own mug.

"Well, if what the rumor mill says is true, and also for what it's worth, he's kind of an idiot, isn't he?"

Jamie finally took a sip of the tea, and Rebecca found herself watching him. He held it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing heavily. Slowly, he put down the mug and reached for the milk. The side of Rebecca's mouth twitched before it quirked up into a smirk.

"No offense or anything, but I don't see how you stand the stuff," he said, now beginning to stir sugar into it. The tea was almost a beige color when he took his next sip.

Jamie made a face. "Tolerable. I'll stick with coffee."

"Do you want to sit?" Rebecca asked, motioning to the living room.

"Sure."

He followed her into the living room, where she took the overstuffed chair situated against the wall and he took the sofa.

"I don't pay much attention to the rumor mill if I can help it," Rebecca said.

"You should try, it's good for a few laughs."

"What does it say?"

"Some rumors say that we're involved," Jamie said, drinking from his mug.

"But we haven't— "

"Probably from all the looks I give you," Jamie continued, as if she wasn't speaking.

"I noticed."

"I didn't doubt that you had," he said. "But I was curious why you hadn't said anything."

"It feels like the way Harry would always look after me," Rebecca said, holding the mug firmly between her hands. "Or Ron, or any of his brothers. A brotherly feel."

"How do you know I wasn't being lecherous?" Jamie asked with a wicked smirk.

"Because if you were, I wouldn't have allowed you back here," Rebecca answered.

Jamie paused, then leaned forward and sat the mug on the table before the sofa.

"It would make sense if I was attracted to you, wouldn't it?" he asked before continuing. "Certainly, you're pretty, intelligent, and all the other qualities that has half the male Aurors fawning over you but afraid to do anything about it. But I'm not."

"I know." She took the final drink from her mug before setting it down as well.

"And you don't care." He looked at her. "What I think, what any of them think. Or how any of them feel about you."

"No. I don't think much of myself, to tell you the truth."

"Brauer said you were very humble."

"This is not humbleness," Rebecca said, lowering her head slightly.

"Low self-esteem isn't what I was expecting from you."

"I've done and experienced terrible things that have made me the person I am today. Plenty of good came from those things, but it's difficult to weigh the good with the bad when you can't help but relive the bad most days."

Jamie looked at her before taking in a sharp breath. "My brother wants to meet you," he said. "I've mentioned things to my family about my new superior. They're muggles, but interested enough in our world that they want to keep up. I told Frank my suspicions about what you're suffering from, and he expressed a desire to meet you if you're willing. I think you'll find the conversation enlightening."

Rebecca threaded her fingers together. "I'll think about it," she said. "Please tell him I offer my thanks in the meantime."

Jamie nodded. "Well, if you're going to be all right, I'm going to go home," he said, standing. "Thank you for the tea."

"I'll remember to buy some coffee the next time I'm out," Rebecca said, standing as well.

He smirked at her. "Thanks, Felan. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

Rebecca raised her hands to remove the wards so he could exit. After she reapplied them once he'd left, Rebecca cleaned the two mugs and emptied out the teapot, thinking on what had made her think the Guy Fawkes had been a Death Eater mask. Nothing had her more on edge than she normally was in large groups.

Then she thought of Jamie's brother's offer to meet. The meeting of the like-minded, the like-suffering. What could it hurt? What could it improve? She would have to think on this.

Discarded Letter from Rebecca to Harry, November 1, 1998

Harry,

The party was pretty much a disaster. Someone snuck in with a Guy Fawkes mask, and I held him at wand-point because I thought he was a Death Eater. But everything's fine—don't worry about me.

Sent Letter from Rebecca to Harry, November 1, 1998

Harry,

The party went as expected last night. I went as Glinda, the Good Witch, from the Wizard of Oz. A few people got a chuckle out of it. I had a slight incident with a man in a Guy Fawkes mask, but it was resolved. After that, I left, and my Deputy and I had a good conversation afterward. No, we're not interested in each other. When I talk to him, I feel like I'm talking to you or Ron face-to-face again.

His muggle brother, who was also in a war earlier this decade and suffers similar issues to my own, wants to meet with me and talk. I think I'm going to. I suppose it couldn't hurt anything.

I hope Halloween wasn't atrocious over there.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, November 2, 1998

Becca,

Halloween was unusually quiet until the end of the night. Needless to say, we have one more Death Eater that was on the run until now. There are only a few left, so it shouldn't be too long before they're all in Azkaban.

I'm sorry to hear the party ended so horribly for you. I'm sure your co-worker in the mask has a few regrets he's expressed to you already.

I would say meeting with his brother would be a good idea. It couldn't hurt, I suppose. If you think that it might help, the better for it.

Let me know if there's anything I can do for you.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, November 4, 1998

Rebecca,

I hope you realize that you're all over the papers with reports that your Deputy Head Auror "swept you off your feet" and took you back to your flat where you probably shagged for hours. Honestly, the press here is awful. First Granger, then Weasley's little sister, now you. It's getting ridiculous.

Let me know if you want Potter and me to throw our weight around to get them to stop. I'm sure the two of us could think of something clever enough to stop them in their tracks. I know he wasn't particularly happy with the portrayal of Granger or his girlfriend. And he would make a decent Slytherin, I suppose. Not anything like the two of us, but good enough to scheme with.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, November 5, 1998

Draco,

Please give me the names of those publications—all of them. And clips, if you can—of everything. I'll write to them myself.

Also, that's not at all what happened, though from your sarcastic tone throughout your letter I suspect you knew that. I wonder why Hermione didn't write to me about it.

Also, the party was about as I expected it. I hope things are going well with Astoria, if you're still talking to her. I know how mercurial you can be.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, November 6, 1998

Rebecca,

Enclosed are all the clippings I could find that have the names of the authors and the paper it's from. I suspect whatever you're going to do to them will be much better than what Potter and I could have come up with, in any case. I look forward to seeing it.

Astoria is fine and we are fine. And that's all you need to know as of now, considering nothing has changed in the week since you last asked about her.

And I'm not that emotional. I'm a Slytherin, not a puberty-ridden female.

Potter says you're meeting with a muggle who was in a war. Do you think talking to him will help?

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, November 8, 1998

Draco,

You should expect to see something in the Prophet tomorrow. I contacted their editor-in-chief through a co-worker here and sent him what I wanted published and an extra incentive should he do it by tomorrow's print. He was more than willing to help a war hero and get vengeance. And to think, he was a Hufflepuff when he was at Hogwarts.

No need to get snippy. I'll be sending you feminine products in my next letter if you aren't careful.

Yes, I'm meeting with Frank Turner, Jamie's older brother. He was in the Gulf War, which was fought in Iraq in the early '90s. I think I'll have an interesting conversation with him, if nothing else. I'll tell you all how it goes.

Rebecca

Daily Prophet Front Page, November 9, 1998

WAR HERO SPEAKS OUT AGAINST MEDIA SLANDER

Published by the Editor-in-Chief, Courtesy to Miss Rebecca Felan

It has come to my attention that a few publications who dare to call themselves news have been telling outrageous lies about dear friends of mine. I call for a cease and desist at this moment, and a public apology to Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Ginevra Weasley by opening publication tomorrow morning. If these so-called news publications do not do as I demand of them, I will make for certain that they are out of business by the end of this year. And as a Slytherin, I make good on my promises. My track record merely has to be referred to, and these publications will see that I do not make idle threats.

I find myself less interested in the news that is being published about me, however, as it is boring and more speculative than anything. To these publications, I say this: say what you wish about my life. It does not affect me whatsoever. In fact, I welcome what you have to say about me.

What I would like to point out to the readers of the Daily Prophet, which does me a great kindness in publishing my letter so promptly, is that these news publications are attacking war heroes. They are attacking a girl who is not yet of age. A girl. Someone who had done nothing except help frightened students, some older than her, while Voldemort ravaged Hogwarts and the Ministry. Someone who fought during the Battle of Hogwarts and was able to keep Death Eaters twice her age at bay and even overpower them. They call her terrible names that I cannot bear to imagine her own mother having to endure reading. Her father, a well-known and liked Ministry employee, must also live with these slanderous remarks. Her brother Ron, an Auror, yet another war hero, another friend of Harry Potter's who helped him find and destroy Horcruxes, eventually enabling Harry to defeat Voldemort. Her brother Fred, who gave his life in the Battle of Hogwarts defending the life we all lead now, should be inventing a new device to get back at these people who call themselves journalists. I'm certain his twin George is doing something of the like now. The Weasley family has given itself entirely to gaining this peaceful way of life that we currently have, and this is how they are repaid. These "journalists" should be ashamed of themselves for this alone.

But they did a double-disservice when they attacked Hermione Granger. Harsher words for an of-age witch, one who cares so much about enriching her own mind that she chose to return to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year and gain her N.E.W.T.s. This is the young woman who helped Harry Potter find the Horcruxes and figure out the best method to destroy them, with such little bits of information. This led to Harry's ability to kill Voldemort. Yes, quite the "dumb slut" she makes, I see. This particular author has quite a poetic way with his words, such choice diction that I wouldn't have said to Voldemort himself for fear he would blush. For him in particular I say this: write the most prolific, groveling apology that your pathetic mind can muster, or I will take no issue in personally making you a social leper for the remainder of your days. I will get your journalist's pass revoked and make you the laughing-stock of the wizarding world. Continue to publish sans apology, this message unheeded, and you will see the kind of influence that I have. To make myself perfectly clear, sir, that is a threat upon your career—your livelihood. I would not waste my time in threatening you in other ways—hunting you down would prove uninteresting and unchallenging.

To the readers of the Daily Prophet, I turn to you directly once more. Do not listen to this drivel. Do not allow these people to profit off of insulting the people who made this a safer place for you to live. Ginevra Weasley and Hermione Granger have done nothing to deserve the type of filth that has been printed about them. All they have done—they, the Weasleys, and Harry Potter, who are all being insulted by these remarks—is make this world a safer place for all of us: magical and muggle alike. Do not let this be how our descendants see how we treat our heroes. Do not let your children's children think poorly of you for how you spoke of these kind, generous, intelligent, and resourceful witches. Do not let them think that you insulted and tormented Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the one who defeated Lord Voldemort at mortal risk to himself because it was what needed to be done for the betterment of wizarding society. Do not let these people tear down those who have done nothing to deserve it.

Sincerely,

Rebecca Felan

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, November 9, 1998

Rebecca,

You didn't need to do that. What do you think you've done? You can't even imagine what type of storm you've caused here, especially at Hogwarts. Get back to me as soon as you can.

Hermione

Letter from Ginny to Rebecca, November 9, 1998

Rebecca,

Thank you for the letter. At first, I was a bit insulted that you felt the need to come to my rescue, as you probably expected it to be. But now I understand what you were doing for us all, and for Harry. And I thank you.

Hogwarts is full of excitement. I haven't seen this many people smiling in a long time, especially all the professors. My family and I have been sending letters back and forth throughout the day. My father's been getting support at work, and everyone is writing their own letters to the publications who said those horrible things about Hermione and me. I think they're currently trying to cover themselves as quickly as possible. We'll let you know what's gone on when we see the publications tomorrow.

Thanks again.

Ginny

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, November 10, 1998

Rebecca,

That was probably the most forward yet subtle letter I've ever read. For a minute, I thought you'd lost your mind. You were inviting them to attack you, all of them. The Ministry, the publications, everyone. But they won't.

I've sent the clippings from today's publications, the same ones who slandered Granger and Weasley. They're quickly changing their tunes, and the author you specifically called out wrote a very good apology before stating he had resigned from his position. Seems like a lot of layoffs happened as well, now that public opinion has so rapidly changed.

Honestly, this is probably the bitchiest thing I've seen you do. And the most Gryffindor-like. Noble, loyal, brave, and completely stupid. Unfortunately, I'm finding that I like it.

You've got to be seriously bonkers.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, November 11, 1998

Hermione,

You would have done the same thing for me. I don't regret what I've done, and any repercussions I face are my own and no one else's.

No one attacks my friends and gets away with it. The Death Eaters learned that lesson just as these journalists learned, if perhaps in a different way.

Hopefully, Draco doesn't have to be the one telling me that there are your issues in your life.

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Ginny, November 12, 1998

Ginny,

You're most welcome. I do consider you a friend, especially after how you helped me last year get to Bill and Fleur's cottage. Please don't hesitate to ask if there's anything I can ever do for you.

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, November 13, 1998

Draco,

Professor Snape always said I should have been in Gryffindor. Perhaps he was correct.

In any case, I'm glad you enjoyed the letter. I nearly broke my quill while writing it because I was so angry.

Let me know should anything else interesting that arises in the news.

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, November 14, 1998

Rebecca,

It's probably very good that Kingsley has a very liberal view of the freedom of speech for the press. He's willing to look the other way, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to keep an eye on you. Be careful.

I was surprised to see your letter in the Prophet. It made me feel glad to know that you have our backs, even when you're so far away. Hermione's still fuming quietly about you putting yourself in danger as you did, threatening people like you ruled the world, but you knew what you were doing the whole time. I appreciate what you've done for Ginny and Hermione, and I know Hermione does, too, once she stops being angry.

Hope all is well with you.

Love,

Harry

Severus, November 15, 1998

It had been nearly a week since Felan's letter was published in the Prophet, and the school was still abuzz. Controlling the masses via the media, exactly as those news publications had been doing. What she had done was rash and idiotic, and he was irate that one of his Slytherins had done something like this.

But the way the students responded was tripled, quadrupled by the reaction the general public had to her letter. The radio stations were all aflutter with bulletins about these publications scrambling to issue statements, having the journalists pen their responses, and then firing them. People weren't buying any of their papers, not a single one. Others were burning any copies they found. Stands were refusing to sell them.

She continued to have an impact on his everyday life, even from across a bloody ocean. And it was completely infuriating. All he could hear students whispering about in the corridors anymore were Harry Potter, the rest of the Golden Trio, Ginevra Weasley, and Rebecca Felan. And it was driving him up a wall.

Too many points had been removed from all Houses, even Slytherin. Minerva had had words with him, told him to settle down. The children were actually happy, and they should be allowed that, she said.

Their happiness is interrupting my teaching, he thought as he sat in his office once more, a stack of papers before him.

They were certain to be horrid. No one was likely to have put much effort into them since this week's happenings. Severus shoved them all off the desk, allowing the feeling of satisfaction to come over him as they all fluttered loudly about his office. Then he sighed, waving his wand. They stacked back upon one another neatly. But he stood from his desk and entered his quarters, now located behind a wall tapestry at the back of his office, heavily warded against any intrusion.

He had studied her choice of words and phrases just as he had the letter that still sat in his desk drawer. She had blatant disregard for her own well-being, even challenging the papers to take up arms against her. She also challenged a response from the Ministry or any other authority figure, but nothing as such had happened. The letter subtly introduced Potter, naturally. And ventriloquizing the future generations was particularly clever. It would make everyone in the now think about the future. And everyone enjoyed a good cause. They just needed a reason to follow it, and Felan had given them a perfect reason to.

Her flippant remarks concerning what had been said about her bothered him more than it should have. Was her flippancy because she truly did not care because she knew they were false? Or was she so flippant because she knew the allegations to be true? The latter thought sent his blood boiling. The Deputy Head Auror, Jamie Turner. It would be most inappropriate for many reasons.

But even at the end of last year, she never let another touch her so comfortably. He only saw her willingly touching very few people. Potter, Granger, the Weasleys, the Malfoys, and himself. All of the former people she felt a familial attachment to in some way. For him… well, she had felt love for him. Past tense. He could not imagine her allowing another man coming so close to her.

And then Severus realized he was trying to rationalize his anger at the possibility of Rebecca Felan having a suitor. He hoped she'd fucked all of the men she'd supposedly been dating.

That hadn't been the right thought either. He was supposed to be going for neutrality, and was failing miserably at it, especially with his reactions to her even possibly being intimate with another man.

He was merely irritated because she had been under his protection for so long. He felt the residual effects of that part of his life still affecting him now, in his thoughts for her. He still wished to protect her. That had to be it.

But the photograph they had published of her, of her wearing the brown silk dress, her hair down and her face bare of any makeup. Simple. Just herself. It had made his heart race. Immediately upon seeing him, the young woman in the picture perked up, and she gave him a brilliant smile that was nearly impossible not to return. For everyone else who picked up the Prophet, this portrait version appeared serious, withdrawn, the normal face that she put on for the rest of the world. Even the portrait version of her still gave away what he suspected, though he did not wish to.

And he couldn't help but recall how beautiful she'd been that day, that day and so many others. Too many others. And how he had wanted to pull her more fully into the last kiss they had shared, but he had been so weak and cold, her lips the only thing warming him.

His own lips tingled at the memory. The relief he'd felt when she'd forced the anti-venom down his throat, when he'd realized he would live. He had been so certain that he wanted to die. He was so angry with himself for feeling relief, so angry with her for saving him…

Severus poured himself a bit of brandy and sipped it, standing before the fireplace, watching the flames crackle. Winter was coming upon them more quickly than normal. It would be snowing soon. More Hogsmeade weekends. More chaperoning. The holidays. And still no one to talk to. Still trying to turn to speak to her, only to remember that she was not there. It was much less frequent now than the summer, but the fact that it still happened bothered him.

But he would not open up to anyone else, particularly Minerva, though she would just love that. Another thing for her to hold over his head. Just another instance she was right and he was not. Bloody Gryffindors. Nuisances, the lot of them.

He finished off his brandy and set the glass down.

She had been a pleasure to teach, and there were none like her so far. Some of the younger students showed promise, but many were still afraid to speak up without being called upon. Granger, of course, set the bar high, but her rote memory grew wearisome. Duels were less than spectacular, and he longed to practice with someone who could keep up with his speed and agility.

But that was not to be. She was probably curled up in bed beside Jamie Turner, whose masculine beauty was renowned nearly as much as Lockhart's had been during his prime. And she was doing well for herself. She was a hero of the utmost kind, and would continue to be. She had moved on from him, just as he had expected her to, which had been why he'd pushed her away before giving her a chance to get close. Another heartache wouldn't do him any good, and he would have completely broken her had he given into her desires. Broken her emotionally, physically, and psychologically beyond repair.

Perhaps it was that thought that had haunted him that day in court, when she finally began trying to speak to him again. It was difficult to say. His brain was a fog of anger, misery, and shame that day. What he did know is that had he not said what he had and driven her from him, he would have more than willingly taken her to the nearest place with a bed and a door and done his worst. Because she would have given herself to him, let him do what he wanted because of some notion of love she bore for him. He saved her from that, and she had no idea that that was what he'd been doing, if only partially.

Gods, his thoughts were terribly macabre tonight.

He resolved to turn in early that night, leaving the papers for the weekend. And he tried to reason with himself that too many thoughts of Felan would not do him or his dreams any good.

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, November 16, 1998

Harry,

It just occurred to me last night that no one is taking care of Alastor or Dobby's graves. Or, at least, to my knowledge no one is taking care of their graves. Is there anything that can be done about that?

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, November 17, 1998

Becca,

Bill and Fleur are caring for Dobby's grave. She planted some nice flowers about it. As far as I know, Mrs. Weasley is also growing a garden around Mad-Eye's grave as we speak, though I heard her complain the other weekend that the flowers were being stubborn. Sounds about right to me.

What brought that thought on? Is everything all right?

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, November 18, 1998

Harry,

Everything's fine. I just think too much. There also needs to be a memorial set up for Professor Burbage. Could you make the arrangements? There unfortunately are no [ink blot] remains. But I think it would be appropriate for Hogwarts to have a memorial set up for her. Could you ask Minerva what it might cost? I will cover it, no matter what. I want it to look stunning, but something befitting her personality.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, November 19, 1998

Hermione,

I do hope you've forgiven me by now for my interfering ways. I'm not going to apologize since it was the right thing to do. You should understand that no matter how much alike we may be, we were still raised and nurtured in different manners. We're going to think differently on matters like these. But I have missed hearing from you.

I'm going to meet with Jamie Turner's older brother this weekend. He was in the Gulf War, and our conversation should be enlightening and perhaps hopeful. I'll keep you posted on it whether you respond to me or not.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, November 20, 1998

Rebecca,

Of course I'm not still mad. I can't stay mad at any of you for any lengthy period. My studies have been keeping my attention for the most part. I feel like I missed so much last year that I can't read enough to make up for it. Merlin, I probably sound silly.

Please do let me know how the meeting goes. I hope it helps.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, November 21, 1999

Becca,

McGonagall said that she will make the arrangements. She has a good idea as to what kind of memorial there should be. She said that cost was no issue, as the school had been granted more funding by the Ministry this year for repairs to the school. There is enough left over to erect a few memorials, she says, that are all overdue at this point. I'm sure they'll be nice sights to see on the grounds.

Grimmauld Place is almost set for me to move into. You still haven't collected your books with that coupon I gave you for Christmas. When you visit, you'll have to do that. I have no need for all of them.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, November 22, 1998

Harry,

That's good to hear. I look forward to seeing them. Congratulations on finally ridding Grimmauld Place of decades of dust and grime and Merlin knows what.

I won't be able to come home for the holidays. I'm needed here, unfortunately. But I will try for the summer—I promise.

I'll collect on the books, then, as well.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Hermione, November 25, 1998

Hermione,

I talked with Frank Turner this weekend. It was interesting to meet another person who acted almost like me. He, however, appears to be fairly normal. I think our talk helped a bit. It at least put some things into perspective for me that I'd really been trying to avoid. More importantly, he told me that this sort of thing takes time to get over, and I'm not stupid for still feeling how I do. I suppose I really needed to hear that.

Anyway, please let the others know I'm doing well and that my meeting was fine. I have to cut this short and get to work ASAP.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Hermione to Rebecca, November 26, 1998

Rebecca,

I've let everyone know that things went well. I hope everything at the Ministry is all right if you were in such a hurry to get there.

Love,

Hermione

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, November 27, 1998

Becca,

Hermione told me that things went well. But now we're getting reports there's some sort of issue at the American Ministry, but they're keeping very quiet about it. Please let us know as soon as you're all right.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, November 28, 1998

Rebecca,

Bloody hell, those Yanks don't know when to keep quiet, do they?

It was my turn to write a letter in any case. Seeing Potter so forlorn at the Ministry is absolutely dreadful since no one can feel like they can do any work when the Boy Who Lived is sad.

Write back when you can, and please be all right.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, Ron, Hermione, & Draco, November 29, 1998

All,

Things have settled down. Sorry I've been gone for a few days, but I was needed pretty much round the clock at the Ministry.

One of my Aurors… he wasn't dealing well with everything that had happened. One of the men we lost was his best mate—they'd joined together. Survivor's guilt or something. There was a standoff with him, and he was keeping some of the other Aurors hostage. It was a mess, but it's been sorted out. He's in good hands.

I'm relatively unhurt. Suffering somewhat physically from lack of sleep and perhaps some sore muscles and a few cuts from curses. But I'm feeling a bit low for now about not seeing it in him before, honestly.

Anyway, that's all I can say for now. This will be coming on the news about the time you all receive this, so it's nothing the news won't be reporting on. I need some sleep.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, November 30, 1998

Becca,

It's not your fault. I hope you know that. What he did was a result of things that were going on in his own mind that he couldn't handle. You can't possibly see everything at all times.

Get some rest and write me back, please. Be well.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 1, 1998

Rebecca,

Potter, Weasley, and Granger thought I might have better luck knocking sense into you in case you were still feeling guilty.

Well, you shouldn't be feeling guilty in the first place. Obviously it's not your fault some bloke went nutters and tried to hurt people. Just because he was supposed to obey you and was beneath you in rank doesn't mean everything has to be your fault.

Honestly, get over yourself, Felan. You're the best thing that's happened to that Ministry in a while, I gather. And you need to quit lying about the sort of physical abuse you're putting yourself through with these bloody missions. Turns out you performed another heroic act to get this guy to agree. You went in the room alone with him, without your wand, and took him out with your fists? Bold, brave, and completely stupid.

While we don't share as much blood as you and Potter, you're still related to me. I'd like for our future kids to spend some time together. You need to get your own head together if that's going to happen.

Stop lying to us, Felan. They know something's up that you're not telling them. And I don't appreciate the fact that you think we're all dumb enough to accept your word at face-value.

I love you. That's why I'm so mad. I care about your well-being, despite what you might think. You need to feel like you can open up to me, or to anyone at this point. I'm not picky.

Write back, or I'm coming over there for you and you can't stop me.

Draco

Discarded Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 2, 1998

Draco,

I don't blame myself. I'm afraid he's what I'll become. And that thought fucking terrifies me.

Sent Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 2, 1998

Draco,

I don't appreciate your tone. It's only natural for my initial reaction to be to blame myself. But I'm past that now. I'm glad for your concern, and everyone else's, but seriously: back off.

I know you care. I know that you love me just like I care about you. We're close enough to be family after everything we've been through. But I honestly don't know what you want from me. I don't know what you think I'm hiding from you, but I have things about as handled as I possibly can here.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 3, 1998

Rebecca,

Fine. I'll back off.

Take bloody care of yourself, idiot.

Draco

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, December 4, 1998

Becca,

Draco got a letter from you, but he says he won't talk about it. He's really angry. What happened?

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, December 5, 1998

Harry,

Draco was making assumptions about my life and I was annoyed with him, so I told him to back off. He ranted at me about how I'm hiding things from you lot and that I shouldn't assume you're stupid. Obviously I don't think you're all stupid. In any case, I'm sure Draco will get over it.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, December 6, 1998

Becca,

I'm sorry Draco's letter was so harsh, but that's how he is. You finally had us see that this summer. He's not so bad. I'm fine with admitting that I'm glad we're friends.

I hope you two get on speaking terms again soon. He's still pretty angry, and being around goblins with that attitude doesn't bode well.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, December 7, 1998

Harry,

I'll send him a letter tomorrow. Stupid git.

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 8, 1998

Draco,

Hopefully this reaches you before you piss off one of the goblins you're working with.

I'm sorry if my letter was overly harsh. I was under a lot of stress and wasn't prepared for you being… you. Even in letter form.

Anyway, stop being such a git to the creatures you're supposed to be helping. You're angry at me, not them.s

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 10, 1998

Rebecca,

Unfortunately, I can't stay mad at you for long, no matter how hard I try.

I know my letter was harsh, but I've unfortunately not developed the proper skills to show normal touchy-feeling affections toward people I care about. There's some lovely psychology for you courtesy of the Ministry psychiatrist. Obviously he wasn't in Slytherin.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 11, 1998

Draco,

The psychiatrist here is a total Hufflepuff, if he'd been to Hogwarts. My bets are on that for yours, too.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 12, 1998

Rebecca,

No, worse. Ravenclaw. It's awful. Talk about know-it-all. He gives Granger a run for her money.

Speaking of, I swear if I have to sit through another letter from her talking about how worried she is for her N.E.W.T.s I'm going to curse her through that bloody box she gave me.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 13, 1998

Draco,

Play nice, Mr. Slytherin. You know you appreciate Hermione somewhere deep inside of you.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 14, 1998

Rebecca,

Yes. Incredibly deep. You'd need a microscope to see it, I think.

Sarcasm aside, Potter says you can't visit for the holidays. I assume you'll be too busy should someone wish to visit you?

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 15, 1998

Draco,

Unfortunately, yes. I'll be on-call throughout the holidays, I'm afraid. We're trying to give everyone that's lower-ranking in the Aurors time with their families, especially considering what just happened with Chambers early this month. I'm sure I'll be able to work something out for the summer.

Rebecca

Severus, December 17-19, 1998

The first day of the winter holidays. All was quiet, and it was glorious. No more students until the fourth of January, when they would return for the remainder of the term. He was in his office, enjoying the peace, when his fireplace burst into green flames. He raised an eyebrow as Minerva's head popped into existence.

"Severus, Draco Malfoy is here to see you," her voice said from the green face in the flames.

Severus stood. "What business does he have here?"

"That he will not kindly tell me, though I'm the Headmistress. He wishes to speak to you in your office alone."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Send him through."

Minerva disappeared. Moments later, the fire came to life once more. Draco Malfoy did indeed step through, already brushing off his exquisitely-kept robes, probably new from the tailor's.

"Severus."

"Draco. Do tell me why you're disturbing my only time without students."

"I will, but you're not going to like my reasoning."

Severus' brow furrowed. "Then you had best get on with it before I thrust you back through the Floo."

Draco reached into his robes and pulled out folded pieces of parchment. He opened them, showing that there was probably a handful. He handed one to Severus, who took it and scanned it. The handwriting he knew immediately. He glanced back up at Draco.

"You think I have interest in Miss Felan's letters?"

"I think you have interest in Felan," he said evenly.

"You overstep yourself, Draco."

"Just read them."

He shoved the rest of the letters at him. Severus grabbed them away and was about to toss them back at him when he saw the look upon Draco's face. Concern. Worry. Anxiety.

Severus paused, then looked at the letters in his hands. Then he sighed, walking around to sit at his desk and spread them out. Her writing was shaky at times, straight and true at others, and downright illegible other times. But not all of these letters were addressed to Draco.

"Friends with Potter, I see," Severus muttered.

"Begrudgingly at first."

Severus shook his head, but kept reading. He paused at the lengthier one, which commented on the recent occurrences at the American Ministry involving one of its own new Aurors. Once he was finished, he looked up at Draco.

"I'm not seeing things," Draco said sternly. "You know she's unstable, too."

"I know nothing about Miss Felan, Draco," Severus said slowly. "I haven't been in contact with her like the rest of you."

"Could you try?" Draco asked. "She would listen to you, Severus."

"I have done much more than I ever needed to for Rebecca Felan. She doesn't need me to save her bloody life anymore."

He gathered up the parchment in one hand and held them out to Draco.

"If you're so concerned, tell her to stop thinking you're all idiots and come out with what's bothering her."

"I've tried that," Draco said, folding the letters in half and placing them inside his robes. "She didn't speak to me for days. I don't know what she'll do if she's completely isolated. She's my friend, Severus, and a relative, one of the few I have left, even if it's only a drop of relation by this point. You have to understand that I'm concerned, as much as it pains me to admit that."

"You have been around Potter and his friends for too long," Severus said with a roll of his eyes.

Draco slammed his fists onto Severus' desk. Severus held completely still, looking at the suddenly irate boy before him, face red and eyes wide.

"You may think you're fooling the rest of the world, Snape, but you're not as mysterious as you think you are, not to me. Some part of you still cares for her whether you want to admit it or not. I need your help."

"Help you to help Miss Felan," Severus said, voice smooth and deadly low. "I think not. If she still has any sort of Slytherin left in her, she'll survive on her own, without help from anyone, much less me. Get out of my office, Malfoy."

Draco pushed all of Severus' belongings off the desk and scattered them on the floor before turning on his heel and walking briskly out the door. Severus sat listening to the few papers flit through the air and land upon the stone floor. He fell back into his chair, letting out another quick sigh.

Severus couldn't believe Draco had actually come to him for help. The boy was too astute. He wasn't sure how to feel about all of this. Certainly she wasn't suicidal. That was not the tone he got from the letters. But clearly Draco did think that she was in some sort of danger.

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he thought. Finally, he rose, waving his wand to straighten his belongings back onto his desk once more. He retreated into his quarters, retrieved a suitcase and a few clothes that would fit in well with muggles, as well as some robes, and shrank the whole thing, placing into his existing robes.

Then he went back into his office, warding off the whole thing, though it wouldn't keep out McGonagall if she really wanted to enter. He pinched a bit of Floo powder into his hands and tossed it into the fireplace.

"Headmistress' office."

He stepped through, the soot covering him as he stepped back out again and into McGonagall's office.

She was at her desk and glanced at him as he came out of the green flames.

"I assume the young Mr. Malfoy has gone?"

"Yes," he said. "I am going to take a few days from the castle. I have some research to complete concerning my syllabus for the seventh years. I'll return well before the term begins once more."

"We should be able to hold down the fort until your return, Severus," Minerva said slowly. "Where will your journey take you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Away."

She stared at him. "Very well, Severus. Safe journey."

Minerva turned back to her paperwork, and Severus did not envy her job for the millionth time this term. In fact, he smirked on his way out.

He made his way quickly out of the castle, then off the grounds. He Apparated to the Ministry's alley, where he could enter by way of the main, non-Ministry employee entrance. Once inside, it took much out of him not to strangle everyone who stared too long at him, as if he were some circus act.

"Severus?"

He turned at the use of his given name, and he saw Lupin staring at him from a few feet away, looking very confused. Severus approached him.

"I need to see Kingsley," he said, his voice low. "I have a favor I need repaid. Can you take me to him, Lupin?"

The other man nodded, still looking confused. "Is everything all right, Severus?" he asked, but had already begun to walk, Severus keeping close to him.

"I merely need a portkey to reach my destination," Severus said. "It's too far to Apparate, and since the government needs to approve all portkeys, I wondered what better man to do so than the Minister himself."

Lupin gave him an incredulous look. "This way," he said, waving to an elevator. They stepped inside, along with a couple of others, who gave the pair strange looks.

The elevator shot off quickly, going every which way.

"Our floor," Lupin said, stepping out. Severus followed him.

Lupin's pace was quick, thankfully, and they ran into no one else. They walked down a long corridor, making a few turns here and there. Finally, they approached a desk, a woman sitting at it.

"Grace, Professor Snape would like to speak with the Minister, if he is in," Lupin told the woman at the desk.

The young thing, not more than twenty, glanced up at them. Severus vaguely recognized her as a Hogwarts student, but her House did not immediately come to mind, so she was not one of his.

"Certainly," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Wait here and I'll see if he's busy."

She left them, walking to a door mostly obstructed from view by a sharp corner. The Ministry was such a confusing place. Lupin gave him a look.

"I appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to escort me up here, Lupin," Severus said. "But I will be fine from here."

"What are you doing, Severus?"

"I have some research to complete for my seventh year students," he said. "More than that, no one needs to know except for my students, when they're back from the break, and myself."

"Very well. Good day, Severus."

Lupin nodded his head slightly, then turned away from him and walked down the corridor they'd come from. The man obviously didn't believe him. That was fine. But no one would dare contradict him.

Grace returned to him. "The Minister will see you now, Professor Snape." She smiled. Fake.

Severus gave a curt nod and walked past her, entering the great office. Kingsley leaned on the edge of his desk, waiting for him.

"Severus!" he said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need a portkey that will get me where I need to go and back, Minister," Severus said. "And I'm using one of my favors you owe me in order to create it myself. But I need you to approve it now."

Kingsley's face dropped. No longer happy, his voice also decreased in pitch. "I'm not even allowed to know where you're headed, Severus?"

"The favors you owe me say nothing about needing additional information than what is required to complete them," Severus answered.

Kingsley stared at him for a moment before turning back to his desk. He went around, opened a drawer, and rifled through it. Soon, he extracted a sheet of parchment, sealed and already written.

"Fine," he said. "That leaves one favor with no limits."

"Most kind of you, Minister," Severus said with a slight smirk.

Kingsley put his quill to the parchment and signed his name with a flourish. The parchment glowed for a moment, then returned to its normal state.

"It is on record," Kingsley said. "Make your portkey and get out of my office."

"To think, the man whose life I saved all those years ago would be so short with me today," Severus said, shaking his head slightly.

He pulled a decorative piece from Kingsley's desk, a small, golden Snitch. Then he took out his wand.

"Portus," Severus said, tapping his wand against the object, thinking his destination.

The Snitch glowed. Severus stowed his wand inside his robes and gave Kingsley a curt nod.

"Until next time," he said, holding the Snitch tightly.

The portkey transported him from the office. When Severus reappeared, he felt disoriented for a moment. He shut his eyes, allowing the world to stop spinning. When he opened his eyes once more, he could see the American capital from his vantage point on the hill he stood on just outside the city. It had been a while since he'd been to America, but he assumed that this area would still be undeveloped. Thankfully, he'd been correct.

He was able to change into muggles clothing fairly quickly, thankful it was simply just cold and not yet snowing. His black trousers and shoes remained, but the cloak and the other items on his torso were too obvious. Now, he donned a black, long-sleeved shirt and jumper to match. It would keep him warm enough for now. He set his inner sights on a hotel he had visited during his last trip here, then Apparated.

Soon, he was checked into the hotel. As it was getting late, Severus decided to retire for the evening, ordering room service. He would go to the Ministry tomorrow. Albert Brauer was going to have a surprise in the morning.

There was snow on the ground the next morning. That much Severus saw from his hotel window. The entrance to the American Ministry was hidden in plain sight behind the Lincoln Memorial, which wasn't a far walk from his hotel. The walk was fairly pleasant, with too many people rushing through the snow to care much about strangers wearing all black clothing, and not enough of it for the weather conditions.

He entered without much problem, his wand getting verified at the front by some large wizard who appeared to belong to some sort of brute squad. He approached the front desk.

"I'm here to see Mr. Albert Brauer. Tell him it's an old friend."

His stern voice made the young man behind the desk jump to his feet and rush off to communicate this with Albert. Severus stayed close to the desk, watching the area for her. She did not need to know he was here.

Finally, the young man came back.

"Mr. Brauer says you're to come down to his lab," he said. "Take the elevator to the bottom-most floor, walk down the hallway, and turn left. It's the only door in that area."

Severus immediately set off, following the directions he'd been given. Soon, he was in the basement, a good enough place for brewing. He found the door and opened it warily, peering inside to see only Albert was there. He was just shorter than Severus, with blond hair and blue eyes, a slight olive tone to his skin from too much time in the sun, and an irritating smile that never left his face.

"Severus!"

"Albert."

The man approached him, holding out his hand. Severus grasped the slightly smaller man's hand and allowed his own to be shaken thoroughly.

"What brings you here?" Albert continued, letting go of his hand. "I don't think you've set foot in the States since your training."

"I haven't," Severus answered. "I come to have a few of my questions answered, and I need you to not tell another soul that I've been here. Can I trust you to keep that promise, Albert?"

"Come on, Severus, this isn't the days of war," Albert said. "What can be so secretive?"

Severus merely gave him a neutral look. Albert sighed.

"Fine. You have my word as a Potions Master. You know I'd never betray you. We studied together and have been friends too long for any sort of betraying nonsense."

"Good," Severus said with a nod.

"Still as grave as always," Albert said with a smile. "This doesn't have anything to do with your former student, does it? Because you can't blame me for not wanting to let her talent go to waste."

"Unfortunately, this visit is mostly concerning her," Severus said with a frown. "I need to know your impression of her, Albert."

"She's bright, very quick, and knows potions better than most people nearly ready to complete their apprenticeships. The perfect student."

"What are you having her work on while she brews with you?"

"We've been perfecting her Animagus potion. It's quite brilliant, really. I'm surprised she had the aptitude to create it last year, especially under so much stress from You-Know-Who. Are you sure you didn't help her?"

Albert's eyes narrowed, but the smirk on his face indicated that he didn't suspect any sort of deceit.

"No, I merely pointed her in the correct research direction," Severus replied.

"That's a relief. Well, she has one last meeting and a contract to sign, and the potion will be on the market just in time for Christmas. She'll be getting sixty-percent of all its profits. I told her to accept nothing less than that, and the company who's marketing it finally agreed."

Severus considered this for a moment. "How does she seem to you other than a student? What is her personality like?"

"She seems the more serious sort, like yourself," Albert said with a nod in his direction. "Very focused on her work. She doesn't talk to me much about things outside of the potions lab. She's reserved, but she does have a quick wit about her if you get her going. But I've been unable to get her to open up much."

He paused, glancing up at his fellow Potions Master. "Honestly, Severus, how you let a beautiful, intelligent woman like that get away from you is beyond me."

Before he could even think about what he was doing, Severus had Albert by the throat and shoved against the wall. A sneer came upon his face.

"That is my former protégé you're speaking of," he growled. "Think carefully about any words you speak concerning her after this. I'm concerned for her mental health, you buffoon."

"God, Severus, put me down!" Albert said, wheezing.

Severus unclenched his hand and let the man drop to the floor. Albert rubbed his neck for a moment. He looked up at Severus from his bent position, trying to get his breath back. He put a hand on the work table beside him.

"I didn't mean to imply anything," he said evenly, quiet. "There's nothing between us beyond a working relationship. I've merely heard things about her coming here."

"Rumors you had best keep to yourself," Severus said, brows furrowed. "Her health. Mentally. You must have seen her at gatherings and such. You work at the same Ministry."

"The Halloween party," Albert said. "She nearly blew up another Auror because he was wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. She may have thought it was a Death Eater mask. She didn't say anything about it to me. Jamie Turner took her home. If you're concerned about her in other respects, he's the man I'd be choking, not me."

"My sincerest regrets, old friend," Severus said quickly. "I'm here at the behest of one of her close friends at home who could not be here himself. Forgive me if I seem tense, but I'd much prefer if she didn't think anyone was looking in on her, most especially me."

"So the rumors are true."

Severus stared at him, but Albert didn't look away.

"I care little for Miss Felan beyond the fact that she was a student of mine," Severus said, his words slow to form.

"But she saved your life."

"Something I didn't wish to happen. A regrettable happenstance of war. Those who shouldn't survive do, others that should do not."

Albert gave him a sideways glance.

"Has she acted odd at other times?" Severus asked.

"She volunteered herself to spy on the Faithful Followers," Albert said. "She disguised herself as one of them and convinced them to attack the Ministry, told the other Aurors so they'd be ready. When they did attack, the Aurors were ready and she was already here. When Blakely came in…"

"Well?"

"I don't know how true this is," Albert said. "But I heard it from other Aurors. She had a look in her eye when she attacked them all… Like she didn't care. She was reckless. I'd believe it, though. Some of her steps for brewing the potion are a bit off-the-wall, possibly not safe if not done exactly right."

"How much damage to her person has she sustained while on the job here?" Severus asked, eyes narrowing.

"Her knee was hurt fairly badly from the fight with Blakely and his officers. She still limps sometimes, but it looks like she tries to hide it. She's probably gotten a few scars from the Aurors' raids. I heard something about her suffering head trauma on one of their raids, but I never asked if that was true or not. She dislocated her shoulder once and couldn't brew for the whole week."

"Do you know what she does in her spare time?" Severus asked.

"No, but if the way she looks is any indication, she does a lot of working out," Albert said. "She has more muscles than a lot of the Aurors. And after their training, I hear them complain about her hand-to-hand combat style. She might be taking martial arts lessons or something. She also makes the Aurors practice meditation."

Severus' mind was quickly working. The fact that she was so active, supposedly, outside of work boded well, but everything else did not.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

"She's very angry," Albert said. "Not overtly so. Most people probably wouldn't notice it. As you know, potions is such a subtle art most times, people like us tend to notice more things about people than others."

Severus gave a curt nod. "Angry how?"

"Tense in her movements, though she's still very graceful at everything. Her jaw always seems set, as if she's trying to keep herself from saying something she shouldn't. If things don't go her way with the potion, or if there's a mistake, she's nearly destroyed her cauldron once. I told her that wasn't acceptable and she never did it again. She also makes us brew with the door open," he added, furrowing his brows. "That doesn't make sense to me."

"She has issues in enclosed spaces," Severus said.

"Hmm. She does not allow herself to be in corners when there are others around, and her back must always be to a wall. That I noticed at the Halloween ball and from our interactions here. But I would say she seems to be trying to handle whatever it is that's bothering her."

"You've been helpful, Albert, and I appreciate it," Severus said.

"You're going to Obliviate me now, aren't you, Severus?" Albert asked with a smile.

"Unfortunately, yes. However, I'll be in touch with you more frequently now."

Severus pointed his wand at Albert's face, and the spell enveloped him. Severus left quickly, before the spell would release him once more to his normal state.

As he made his way back the way he'd come, Severus thought long about all of the information he'd been given in just a few short minutes. Finally, he had reached the large auditorium-like entrance to the Ministry. Suddenly, her voice was echoing from all sides.

Severus ducked behind a pillar, straining his ears to listen and pinpoint her location. Slowly, he peered from behind the pillar, spotting her walking across the lobby area with Jamie Turner beside her. He was close enough that Severus felt his brows furrow at the unusualness of it, but he was not so close that others might notice. Naturally, she looked stunning in her natural state. He sneered at his recognizing her beauty.

He couldn't hear what either of them said, but after Turner spoke, Rebecca laughed. And it was not fake. Turner looked quite pleased with himself. Severus scowled, watching them until they got into the elevator. Once the doors were closed, he walked swiftly across the lobby and out of the American Ministry.

He returned to his hotel to think. He wouldn't leave just yet, needing to find something to return with to show Minerva should she ask for proof of his trip. He resolved to find himself a Lethifold, something that primarily lived in the tropics. However, he had a suspicion there was a magical collector around here that could provide him with one.

The next day saw him successful. The Lethifold was a particularly difficult creature to keep under lock and key, but the medium-sized box with nothing but a pin-pricked air hole would see to its safe transportation until he got to Hogwarts.

When he did return, Minerva was not happy with his choice in defense instruction. Severus had to give away his Lethifold to another collector of dangerous creatures, which would unfortunately not be Hagrid. Minerva specifically told him to find someone else outside of Hogwarts grounds (as far away as possible, actually) to take it.

The Lethifold safely off, Severus returned to Minerva's office and asked, "How do you expect me to make certain they can cast the Patronus under tense conditions?"

"Get out of my office, Severus. I don't want to see you again until the holiday is over."

The whole trip had been worth it just for that.

Letter from Severus to Draco, December 20, 1998

Draco,

I've looked into the situation you brought to me the other day to attempt to assuage your fears. Unfortunately, your fears appear founded. However, I would not suggest directly trying to confront Miss Felan about these issues.

I spoke with Albert Brauer, the Potions Master she currently studies under. He and I were apprenticed together many years ago and have kept in touch often. His impression is that she is angry, perhaps suffering more from the war than she may be attempting to let on. My impression is that she may be trying to prove a point in staying in America at a job she clearly does not enjoy. You, Potter, and the others are going to have a difficult time convincing her to return for any number of reasons, most likely.

I wash my hands of this problem.

Severus

Letter from Draco to Severus, December 21, 1998

Severus,

I appreciate you taking time out of your schedule to speak with your friend. Your results are what I suspected, but now I have no idea where to go from here. I'll speak with Potter and the others. Perhaps we can come up with something.

Thank you again.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, Ron, Hermione, & Draco, December 22, 1998

All,

My potion is officially on the market beginning today. I completed the paperwork for it earlier in the week, and the first few batches are reaching the stores today. And it will be just in time for Christmas. Also, George will definitely want to stock at least some in his store—from the way it's being marketed, I'm expecting it to sell very well.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry & Co. to Rebecca, December 23, 1998

Becca,

Harry speaking for all of us here at the Burrow when we say CONGRATULATIONS! I'm supposed to extent everyone's love and pride for you. George says he'll definitely sell it (and asks if you can get him a discount).

It's been snowing here pretty decently for the past couple of days. We're expected to get a couple of feet on Christmas. I hope you're getting some snow over there as well—it makes everything pretty and gives us an excuse to go outside and act like kids again.

Hope all is well.

Love,

Harry & Co.

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 23, 1998

Rebecca,

Congratulations from the Malfoys. Father says he's glad you were able to market the potion for something more well-spirited than the potion's original intentions. I'm just proud of you, as is Mother.

You better not be spending Christmas alone.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 24, 1998

Draco,

Thank you for your well-wishes. And tell your father I'm glad, too.

Also, no, I'm not spending Christmas alone. I'll be with Jamie and a few other higher-ranking Aurors at the Ministry. We're on alert for any troublemaking that might happen.

I've gone ahead and sent your Christmas presents since I won't be around tomorrow. You can also tell your parents that I've set up the piano they gave me in my living area and am practicing again, though it's a bit slow-going.

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Harry & Co., December 24, 1999

Harry, Hermione, Remus, Teddy, Andromeda, & Weasleys,

Thank you all for your well-wishes. I'm quite glad of the turnout.

I've enclosed all of your Christmas presents. I won't be around tomorrow as I have duty at the Ministry along with Jamie and some of the other higher-ranking Aurors. We're giving everyone else the time off, but everyone is on-call should things go awry.

I've also enclosed an extra something for George. A couple of vials of my potion free-of-charge for his store. I can't shrink them without ruining the potion, so it was all I could send.

I hope all of you have a happy Christmas. Have a couple of roasted marshmallows for me.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 25, 1998

Rebecca,

Happy Christmas. Sorry you have to spend it at work, but I'm sure you'll find a way to make it fun.

Thanks for the Slytherin-colored scarf. Looks like I'll be getting use out of it today. We're headed over to the Burrow later to be festive. Mother and Father also enjoyed the wine that you got for them.

Enclosed is your gift. Surprise: Mother bought you more clothes.

Draco

Letter from Harry & Co. to Rebecca, December 25, 1998

Rebecca,

Happy Christmas!

Thank you for all of our gifts. Everyone's really enjoying them. Muggle board games are a bit confusing for the majority, but Hermione and I are doing our bests to get everyone through them. Monopoly is especially a big hit. Ron's already said we're playing it when the Malfoys get here later. He thinks he's funny.

Here's hoping you don't have to work on New Year's!

Love,

Harry & everyone

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, December 26, 1998

Rebecca,

Weasley is absolutely absurd. And by "Weasley," I mean Ronald. It seems that during the middle of our good time, he pulls Granger aside and takes her out back to ask her to marry him. Apparently she said yes for some reason. When they came back inside, there was a big to-do and lots of passing around of Firewhiskey. I still have a headache.

By the way, the muggle game called Monopoly is definitely unrealistic and completely unfair.

Draco

Letter from Ron to Rebecca, December 26, 1998

Becca,

SHE SAID YES!

I did everything you told me to, but I thought the time at the party was too perfect to pass up. We were all having such a good time, and it just seemed to fit. And she said yes. We're going to start planning everything for when 'mione gets out of school in mid-June. You have to be at the wedding. You're the Maid of Honor. Hermione's already said it. We'll tell you more when we've hashed everything out.

Thanks again, Becca. You're the best.

Love,

Ron

Letter from Rebecca to Ron, December 27, 1998

Ron,

That's wonderful news!

Also, I'm really honored that Hermione wants me for her Maid of Honor. Of course I'll be there. I wouldn't miss this wedding for anything.

I'm so happy for the two of you.

Also, please tell everyone I'm glad they liked their gifts and that I'm currently sorting through all of mine. But I'm already loving them.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, December 28, 1998

Draco,

So I heard. Glad you could be there to enjoy the festivities afterward. I don't think you understand what it means to me that you and your parents are making an effort with Harry and the Weasleys.

Anyway, tell your parents thank you for the dresses. Honestly, I'm swimming in them just like you said. Hint that if they're getting me a birthday present, it should be something besides clothing.

Rebecca

Rebecca, December 29, 1998-Janury 1, 1999

The days at the Ministry with the veteran Aurors was peaceful. There was a lot of talking, making plans for the new year with the recruits, and talks of who should be promoted and who needed some more work with which particular trainers in order to make that next step.

Unfortunately, they'd hashed out most of the planning the first day of sitting around and not having anything remotely wrong go in the city. Everything had been quiet since Chambers' hostage situation.

Now the ten of them sat around at the large conference table. Someone had procured a ping pong ball and they took turns trying to toss it into each other's water glasses, each glass sitting in front of an individual. So far, Jamie was winning and looking quite smug about it.

Finally, he leaned over and raised an eyebrow at Rebecca. "Something the matter?"

"Oh." She looked up, startled from her thoughts. "Uh, no, not really. My friends are engaged as of Christmas, so I was thinking about how I'll need the time off for their wedding."

"When is it?"

"June. I'm the Maid of Honor."

Jamie nodded. "Which friends are these?"

"Ron and Hermione," Rebecca said, watching Theodore miss Jacob's water glass. Jacob picked up the ping pong ball with a chuckle and tossed it at Franklin's.

"The other two-thirds of the Golden Trio, so people call them," Jamie said.

"Such a horrid nickname," Rebecca muttered as she watched the ping pong ball sail across the table a few more times.

"You seem awfully calm for someone whose two best friends are marrying one another," Jamie said.

Rebecca shook her head. "I'm thrilled, actually. This is my thrilled face in case you didn't know." She turned to him and gave him a pointed, neutral expression before turning back to watch the ping pong ball once more.

Jamie snorted.

"All right, love birds, your turn!" called Marcus from across the table.

He tossed the ball at Rebecca's cup, but she caught it before it could go in.

"Hey!" shouted Marcus. "That wasn't part of our rules."

Rebecca set the ball down on the table.

The room went quiet as Marcus looked down, breaking the tense gaze he'd been holding with the Head Auror. Rebecca tossed the ball to Jamie, who caught it before staring up at her.

"I'm going for a walk. Contact me via Patronus should you need anything," she said to him.

Rebecca made her way out of the Ministry building and out onto the snowy streets. She watched the flakes go by in the lazy wind. Though it was cold, the wind hitting her face felt refreshing, calming.

She could be studying for the Potions Master's test. She was going to take it at the end of March, when they offered it. Already, she felt behind because of spending so much time on the potion. But she was already working on her second potion idea, the one she would need in order to completely pass the second part of the Mastery. It was only in the planning stages, but already she felt decent about it.

Her mind floated back to Ron and Hermione. Her friends were flourishing without her, just as she suspected they would. Perhaps she wouldn't be doing them any favors by returning. She would be a sore spot in their wedding, the sullen friend who was easily frightened, could snap at any moment over anything. But they had asked her to be there, so she would. This she couldn't disappoint them in. But then she'd return here as quickly as she could. The thought of returning home made her heart race, and the anxiety within her filled.

She took in a few deep breaths and reminded herself that she wasn't anywhere near Hogwarts or any other place that had any of those other memories. Importantly, Greyback and the other Death Eaters were in Azkaban. The captured Faithful Followers were also in the prison for wizards in the United States, ironically called Olympus. It was located in northern Alaska, where no one would dare try to escape. There was absolutely nothing for miles around, and the bare minimum number of guards to keep the prisoners in line.

Feeling somewhat more calmed, Rebecca turned to reenter the Ministry, then decided to sit in the lobby for a while. They had already spent two days with one another, with no company of any of the other parts of the Ministry, who were all on leave for the holidays still. And they would be here until the first. After that, the Aurors would return and all of them would get two days off before returning for their normal work schedule. Rebecca resolved to only take one of those days. The second wasn't necessary.

When she did return upstairs, Marcus didn't say anything. They returned to the game without further incident.

By the time the first of January rolled around, they had given up on anything serious happening. They stood on the Lincoln Memorial a half-hour midnight, watching the fireworks already beginning to go off. She and Jamie stood slightly apart from the others in silent companionship. Jamie had become more of a friend than Rebecca was initially prepared to admit, but they had a certain easy camaraderie that she'd really only felt for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The friendship with Draco she even had to work on.

They stood with a few inches between them, Rebecca feeling comfortable enough with the space, grateful for it.

"Does the thought of us together really bother you that much, Felan?" Jamie suddenly asked, staring at the fireworks before them.

"The thought of me with anyone bothers me," Rebecca said, also not looking at him. There wasn't any need to.

"Given up on dating, have you?"

"A while ago, actually."

"Same here. Muggle women are a bit too complex to deal with, and the women of the wizarding world only seem to date me because of my position. Or my good looks. It's difficult to tell."

"A bit of both, most likely," Rebecca said, her eyes scanning the dark sky. You couldn't see the stars here, not in the city, but the vast expanse was still brilliant, even when there weren't any fireworks. "And the men aren't much better. Did you know the first muggle man I went on a date with thought my Dark Mark was a tattoo I'd gotten voluntarily? I mean, I don't know what else he would've thought, but seriously. Can you imagine having to try and explain that to a muggle?"

Jamie shook his head. "No."

More silence. A few more rounds of store-bought fireworks. The city was going to put on a spectacular show, perhaps as brilliant as the Fourth of July celebration. Rebecca couldn't believe she'd already been here for five months.

"Think you'll ever be willing to give it another go?" he asked.

"Are you trying to say that we should attempt to date one another like everyone already thinks we are?"

Jamie shrugged. "Seems like it might be worth it." He glanced to her.

"I think I'd rather keep your friendship," Rebecca said, meeting his gaze. "No offense."

"None taken," Jamie said.

It was about fifteen minutes until midnight, and the other Aurors were already breaking out some champagne. Rebecca would indulge them. She couldn't blame them for wanting to celebrate. Tomorrow morning at six, there would be the second tier of the senior Aurors returning to take over their posts until the third, when they would be required to return. One glass of champagne for dealing with five straight days at the Ministry seemed a small reward.

"Do you think your aversion to touch has something to do with you not wanting to try and date others?" Jamie asked.

"It probably has a lot to do with it," Rebecca replied.

"Have you tried to break the fear of it?" He looked down at her once more.

Rebecca shrugged. "Never had much of an opportunity to try. I always seem to panic on the dates whenever they'd come in for a kiss or try to hug me. It's stupid, but it's nothing I can help."

"What if you tried with someone you trusted?" he asked.

"You're awfully persistent tonight," Rebecca said, her eyes flicking over his face. "Care to explain?"

Jamie sighed. "My mom says at this rate I'm going to marry my job and leave her grandchildren-less."

Rebecca smirked. "So you're trying to get me to date you to get your mother off your back? I'm flattered."

Jamie rolled his eyes. "All I'm saying is that it couldn't hurt either of us. I'm pretty sure Minister Smith even thinks we're involved. This would just make it official."

"Not even asking me out on a date first, Turner," Rebecca answered. "Classy."

"What if we kiss at midnight," he said. "If you can't even do that with me, or if we don't feel anything, then I'll shut up."

"But then your poor mum will think you just don't want to give her grandchild."

"Seriously, Felan. Your deflections are obnoxious right now."

Rebecca took the question seriously then, at the look he was giving her. He seemed desperate.

"Do you think there's something wrong with you, Jamie?"

"Not any more than you thinking there's something wrong with you," he replied. "I just don't have PTSD. But I am a pretty big failure at relationships."

"Well, I've never even had one before, so I'm not sure what makes you think I'll be any better at one."

"Merlin, I've lost my head," Jamie said. His hair swung back and forth in front of his eyes. "I shouldn't be asking this of you, but I'm desperate."

"I can tell."

"I know you can."

"But I don't really understand why."

"Is it really that important?"

"I think so," Rebecca said.

"Then you'll have to give me something in return," Jamie said, crossing his arms. "You'll have to open up some too if you expect anything from me."

Rebecca took a moment to consider.

"Fine. We can talk about it afterward."

Five more minutes. Honestly, this shouldn't be that big of a deal. It was a stupid kiss, something everyone her age had already done a million times by now. Or whatever number was more feasible. She supposed the math didn't really matter at this point.

At least she was grateful the other Aurors weren't watching, weren't even bothering to look their way.

It would make things a lot easier if she could feel something for Jamie beyond a brotherly affection. If she could just settle for making each other the happiest they could given the circumstances. But that was never how her life worked. That would be too simple.

The countdown to midnight, and the huge display of fireworks, was upon them. The other men were chanting down from thirty. Rebecca wondered what Jamie was thinking about. Then she felt him take her hand. Her initial reaction was to jerk from him, and she did jerk slightly. He held her firmly, but not roughly. Rebecca made herself hold still.

She looked up at him just as he was turning to look down at her. His gaze was tense, like he was going to will this to work.

"Five! Four!"

He leaned closer, and Rebecca already felt her heart beat racing. Trapped. But there was open space all around them. He was only holding onto her hand, which she could easily break. That settled her brain for a moment.

"Three! Two!"

His face was level with hers. His blue eyes were level with her green ones, staring into them intently.

"One! Happy new year!"

The fireworks sounded behind them. Rebecca closed her eyes as Jamie pressed his lips against hers. Soft, tender, warm. Unmoving. Letting her move if she wished to. She could feel his hair brush against her forehead. Her heart pounded against her chest, anxious, telling her to move away. And she did, pulling away from his lips quickly and looking up to the sky, taking her hand from his hand at the same time.

She could feel him watching her as she stared at the fireworks, taking in the brilliant display to try and hide her embarrassment.

"I wanted to feel something," he said.

"But you didn't."

"No." He paused. "And you were still scared."

"Yes. As well as nothing."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

He turned to look at the fireworks as well. Rebecca's shoulders fell once she was out from under his gaze. Snowflakes began falling, the wind pushing against their clothing. Jamie and Rebecca watched the fireworks quietly. Once they were finished, the rest of the Aurors entered the Ministry once more, having forgotten about them, it seemed.

"I think I'm too picky," he said suddenly. "I'm irritable, sarcastic, and too serious for a girlfriend. Women date me because they like the pretty face. Most muggle women I've dated are high in society themselves—politicians, lawyers, and the like. They think I'll be their arm candy and that I don't have a brain. God knows what makes them think I'm all right with that."

He shook his head. Rebecca turned to face him, but he still looked up at the sky, as if it held the answers.

"Witches want me because I'm the Deputy Head Auror and I'm stable. Normal. Whatever they're looking for. I don't like being used. The other women I date that aren't trying to use me somehow, I can't bring myself to like them. I've been in a few long-term relationships, but it's me that messes them up in the end, I'm sure. Send them all running off."

He kicked at the pillar they were standing next to.

"I'm not old or anything, and I'm going to live to one hundred or more years as a wizard. It's not like I'm overly concerned yet. But I just wonder what I'm doing wrong."

"It's probably not you," Rebecca said. "You can't force something that isn't there. You haven't met the right person for you yet."

"That's really the only explanation, I guess. Maybe I'm afraid there isn't someone for me."

He turned around and looked at her. "I can't even feel anything for you, and you're pretty much what I thought I've been looking for in a woman. I'm sorry I used you as an experiment, but I guess I thought if we just kissed… I don't know. Christ."

He shook his head again.

"I think the more you worry about it, the more you stress yourself out about it, and then the less likely you are to be receptive to other things you might not think of," Rebecca said.

He looked back at her. "You're right. See, this is why we're friends. You'll keep me from being neurotic."

Rebecca smirked.

He let the silence fall between them, then made for a bench a few feet away. Rebecca followed him, then sat about a foot from him on the bench. The stared at the snow for a while before Jamie spoken up once more.

"I read the record of the court proceedings for your trial," he said. "And for Snape's. Before you came here. I was curious about you."

Rebecca shrugged.

"Your aversion to touch…." He stopped. "But you could've killed him in the battle, I thought."

"I could have."

"You threw a dagger at Bellatrix Lestrange in the battle," Jamie continued. "I don't understand."

"With Bellatrix, I was getting revenge for someone else. Sirius Black. He was trying to protect me when she killed him. It doesn't make any sense why I wouldn't kill Greyback, but I didn't."

She thought about that, recalling how she'd felt during the battle at Hogwarts.

"Bellatrix hurt me through my friend. Greyback didn't. He just hurt me. I'm more tolerant of things happening to me than to my friends. I'm still alive, Sirius isn't."

Jamie nodded. "I understand."

"But yes, he does scare me, even now. Even in Azkaban, across a bloody ocean. He's why I ward my door and windows. He's why I can't let anyone touch me unless I trust them with my life. And it sucks."

That didn't seem to encompass it, but it was all Rebecca could think of. She hadn't said that out loud to anyone. It didn't make her any less afraid, but it made her more aware of her problem.

Jamie didn't say anything at first. "I'm not an expert on abuse victims. But I do know that it's not an unusual feeling."

Rebecca nodded. "I think my problems have been exacerbated by everything else I did last year," she said quietly. "It's hard to shake everything at once. And everything that happened even after I got out of Azkaban… it didn't help. Nothing helps, it seems."

Jamie didn't respond for a while, folding and unfolding his hands a few times. "You love him, don't you? Snape."

Rebecca bit her lower lip sharply, drawing a little blood. She put her tongue against the injury. It would heal soon enough.

"Yeah." She put her face in her hands. "And that's just… so infuriating. I'm so angry at him, at myself. Mostly myself. But I've tried. I've tried so hard to hate him. But I can't."

Jamie placed his hand on her shoulder softly. Rebecca jumped at his touch, but didn't move away. She moved her hands, letting them rest on her knees.

"I'm fine," she said, her eyes dry.

She looked to the stone of the memorial, taking in the scene. The weight of what she'd admitted was gone. She felt better.

She gave a sudden chuckle. "Maybe we should pretend to date each other. We could settle for worse people."

"But then my mom would get her hopes up," Jamie said.

"And I guess it wouldn't be fair to you," she said. "What if you finally did meet someone you connected with?"

"What about you?"

"I'll die a spinster," Rebecca said with a smirk.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "So dramatic. Let's go inside. It's cold as hell out here."

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, January 3, 1999

Becca,

Not to sound like I'm mimicking Ron, but I've been thinking a lot about it. I'm going to ask Ginny to marry me.

I've talked with Ron about it, mostly so he wouldn't try to punch me if I didn't talk with him about it first. If she says yes (which is pretty much 99.9% likely), we're going to have the weddings one week after the next. Ron and you are going to share the duties of Best Man and Woman. Hermione will be the Maid of Honor, or whatever her title might be since she'd be married by that point (they're going to get married first). And Ginny can choose whoever she wishes as her other bridesmaid, or grooms…maid. Terms.

Sorry, I'm just really excited. I hope you can read this. My handwriting looks a bit shaky.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we want you to stay the whole summer if you can—from late June to late August, if possible. If your Minister will give you the time off. Use whatever Slytherin methods you can. We want to spend as much time with you as possible, especially after the weddings and honeymoons and whatnot. We've missed you.

Tell me what you think.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, January 5, 1999

Harry,

That's great! Obviously you're not copying off of anyone. I know how much you and Ginny care about each other.

I'll talk to Minister Smith about this tomorrow and let you know.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, January 7, 1999

Rebecca,

Merlin, help me, the lovebirds are driving me up a wall. Potter and Ginevra are engaged now.

Come home and save me from the love-filled craziness.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, January 8, 1999

Harry,

After a bit of prodding and a lot of negotiations, I have the summer off.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, January 8, 1999

Draco,

Stuff it. You like this. Besides, you and Astoria are still together, so you have someone to use to send crazy love-filled tripe back at them.

Ginny still has a space open in her wedding party, as far as my knowledge goes. Maybe you should tell her you want to be a bridesmaid.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, January 9, 1999

Rebecca,

You're really not as funny as you think you are. I hope you're aware of that.

It also seems that she's chosen her brother Charlie to be the second in her bridal party. Apparently she's been close to Charlie since childhood, and she wanted a male to walk with you down the aisle since Weasley and Granger were going to do the same.

Potter talks too much at work. I can only listen to so much drivel.

Draco

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, January 10, 1999

Rebecca,

We'll be finalizing the plans, but it looks like Ron and Hermione will have their wedding June 27, and then Ginny and I will have our wedding the next week, July 7. I'll bore you with the boring details when you get here. Can you plan to be here June 24 at the latest? We'll need you to help with any last-minute… things. Hermione and Ginny will be better at explaining this, I promise.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, January 11, 1999

Harry,

Yes, I'll be there by June 24.

Don't worry, I'm sure I'll get on fine with the wedding stuff. How difficult can it be?

Also, Charlie will be across from me on Ginny's side? Draco said you told him.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, January 12, 1999

Draco,

I think I'm hilarious, actually. And you'd look totally cute in a dress.

I'm getting confirmation on Charlie. It'd be nice to know who it was at least.

Also, I'll be coming in on June 24 and staying until the end of August. So we'll be spending a lot of time together while the happy couples are on their respective honeymoons and such.

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, January 13, 1999

Becca,

Yes, it is Charlie. Hope that's all right.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, January 14, 1999

Harry,

Not a problem. I was just curious who it would be. Where are these weddings taking place? In the backyard of the Burrow?

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, January 15, 1999

Rebecca,

I'm not putting on a dress for your, or anyone else's, amusement. Now you've got Astoria trying to get me to do it. I'll never hear the end of this. Thanks a lot, Felan.

I'm not sure if I want to spend any time with you after causing me this much psychological damage.

Draco

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, January 16, 1999

Becca,

Of course, the Burrow's backyard. We'll need you to help us select the reporters we're letting in to both events, actually. It'll only be two to each, and we'll be picking different media types and publications. Obviously none of the ones who spoke poorly of any of us will be in attendance. But your help with that selection process would definitely make us all feel better.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, January 17, 1999

Harry,

I'd be glad to help. If you want to schedule it for the 24 of June, that's fine. I know the sooner, the better. Sorry I can't be there sooner.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, January 18, 1999

Draco,

You know you love me. And my sense of humour.

Also, I really like Astoria. You have my permission to keep her forever.

Tell your parents I'm coming into town and they'll never let me leave your sight for as long as possible.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, January 20, 1999

Rebecca,

If you could've heard the sigh I emitted upon reading your last letter, you would know my frustration with you.

Unfortunately, you're right. I'm attached to you by this point, so I suppose I'll have to see you at some point this summer. I'll mark the days on my calendar in utter anticipation. Maybe I'll get George to help me with procuring some muggle fireworks for your return.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, January 25, 1999

Draco,

I've seen a lot of fireworks, but any that touch George's hands would probably end up pranking me somehow. Or doing bodily harm. So let's just nix that idea. Just a hug will be all right.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, January 26, 1999

Rebecca,

Fine, have it your way. Such a lack of adventure. Boring, boring, boring.

Some Slytherin you are.

Draco

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, February 2, 1999

Becca,

Just wanted to check in and make sure everything was all right. Sorry if I've seemed distant, but I've been busy with… everything, really.

Haven't heard from you in a while. How are things?

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, February 5, 1999

Harry,

I'm also very busy with work, so my apologies for not writing more often. But please expect that, since I'm working more often to ensure I can take the time off. Visiting for so long will be worth the hours I'm putting in.

Things are fine. Jamie and I are good friends now. I'm glad I have someone else to talk to. Making friends has never been the easiest thing for me, contrary to what you might think. And the papers have finally stopped insinuating that we're seeing one another, which is also nice.

I'll need to be short—I have to get to bed.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, February 7, 1999

Becca,

Even if you're busy, I'll still try to check on you from time-to-time. Cousinly/best friend duties and all that.

I am glad to hear you've got a friend. From what I hear, Jamie Turner's a nice enough bloke.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, February 15, 1999

Rebecca,

Thanks so much for writing me recently and keeping me in-touch with the goings on in your life. And also leaving me to suffer through Valentine's Day with the happiest couples on the planet.

You had best answer me soon, Felan.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, February 20, 1999

Draco,

Like I told Harry, I'm putting in extra hours at work to make sure I get the time off for the summer. It was a stipulation to Minister Smith agreeing to the time off.

I'm sorry if you're so miserable, but seriously, go talk to Astoria.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, February 21, 1999

Rebecca,

Seems like your Valentine's Day went well, too.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, February 25, 1999

Draco,

As you know, I've never celebrated Valentine's Day. I think it's a stupid excuse for a holiday.

And unlike you, happy people don't bother me.

Rebecca

Letter from Draco to Rebecca, February 26, 1999

Rebecca,

I think that's a lie and you know it is. Happy people piss you off as much as they piss me off.

Draco

Letter from Rebecca to Draco, February 28, 1999

Draco,

Sure. Whatever you want to think. If it helps you sleep at night, that's lovely.

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, March 5, 1999

Becca,

Things are going fairly smoothly here. The majority of the planning is done, and all that's left, really, is to decorate for the weddings, which won't happen for a while longer.

How are you?

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, March 9, 1999

Harry,

That's good to hear. I'm sure the rest of it will fall into place.

Also, I'm going to be off the grid for a while. That's all I can say. I don't know how long I'll be gone.

Please tell Draco I'm not mad at him. He'll understand what you're talking about.

Send my love to everyone, and try not to worry about me.

Love,

Rebecca

Severus, March 20, 1999

He tried not to think about the significance of the day. He also had been trying to ignore the looks on both Ginevra and Granger's faces over the past few days. The general looks of misery they were giving one another at their table over breakfast could only mean a few things, and all of them had to deal with her.

He'd done a fairly decent job of washing his hands of the whole situation just before Christmas. The rest of his holidays had been spent in solitude, and she didn't cross his mind again. Apparently, his curiosity had been sated enough to allow him to continue a relatively normal life.

The only problem he'd had since seeing her was his dreams of her had picked up once more. And they'd gotten progressively more… He couldn't even bare to think the word. Sexual. And it was pure torment. They weren't frequent at first, perhaps once every couple of weeks. Now he took Dreamless Sleep whenever he could to spare himself a night. And it spared him the next morning, when he would wake up painfully hard and generally annoyed.

But now, here he was in the Great Hall, watching the Gryffindor table, the two friends of her, specifically, hoping that there would be some sort of indication of what was happening.

The owls began to arrive, one swooping low over them. Ginevra raised her hand as an owl closed in upon them, obviously one familiar to her. It gave up its parchment, and she and Granger huddled together.

Granger held a hand over her mouth as Ginevra went pale. Slowly, the younger girl stood, clasping the parchment. She began making her way to the staff table, and Severus could feel his chest tightening at her approach.

Finally, she stood before Minerva, who turned her gaze upon the girl.

"Miss Weasley?"

"Headmistress," Ginevra said quietly. "Hermione and I wanted to ask if we could be excused today from our classes."

"Whatever's the matter, child?" Minerva asked, leaning forward.

"It's Rebecca, professor," Ginevra said. "She's really hurt this time. We're not sure of her status. The Minister is trying to get in touch for us."

"Oh, dear," Minerva said. "Come, Miss Weasley, we'll get your brother to escort you home before classes. Neither of you are probably in a state to Apparate."

She stood quickly, turning to one end of the staff table.

"Professor Weasley, a word, please!"

Ginevra's eyes met his own and held them for a moment.

"My apologies for missing your class, sir," she said.

"It is most all right, Miss Weasley," Severus found himself say gently.

Ginevra blinked, then turned to follow Minerva. Percy Weasley, farther down the table, looked like he was concerned, but his face did not pale as much as his sister's had at the news. Minerva had them out of the Great Hall without many students noticing.

She returned to her seat and sat heavily.

"We cannot let the students know, Minerva," Severus said quietly, glancing at her. "She is still too well-known and respected. She has sway here. The students are just beginning to normalize from the last scare."

Minerva nodded. "You're right, Severus. We will keep this quiet, but will alert the staff. They all know Rebecca and deserve to hear what's going on."

Severus nodded, watching as Minerva leaned over and told Filius, seated on her opposite side, that there was to be a short meeting after breakfast. He passed the message along, and Severus, still a bit numb, did the same on his side. The students were not paying them any mind.

In the corridor of the staff entrance to the Great Hall—the same place where Rebecca Felan had come to him and stayed with him, protected him from the Aurors— they held their meeting.

"Rebecca Felan has been injured," Minerva said. "It is serious, though the extent we are unsure of. This information we're keeping from the students, as it is best for their morale that they know as little about this as possible. But since all of us have taught Miss Felan, I felt it fair for you to know. Keep her in your thoughts. Percy will be in contact with his family throughout the day, and Minister Shacklebolt is trying to contact the American Minister to keep tabs upon her. We will know something, hopefully, before the day's end."

It was quiet, and Hagrid began to take his oversized handkerchief from his coat pocket to dab at his eyes. Against his better judgment, Severus spoke up.

"Today, for those who are not aware, is Miss Felan's nineteenth birthday. Perhaps sending a card by way of Professor Weasley to his family to get to Miss Felan would not be remiss."

As suspected, all eyes were upon him instantaneously. He schooled his features into perfect neutrality, as if he'd done nothing out of the ordinary.

"She was of my House," he said slowly, his voice even. "Despite my personal feelings, that does not change my knowledge."

Suddenly, his idea had credence.

"Hopefully Percy can send them along at lunch," said Filius. "A novel idea, Severus."

Nods of approval and agreement swept through the professors, and they made their way down the corridor. Hagrid, stooping and already beginning to sob, was being escorted away by Slughorn.

"Very un-Slytherin-like of you, Severus," Minerva said as she stepped away from him. "But I quite enjoy the change."

She walked from him, her pace quick, leaving him no time to retort. Hopefully the news of the cards being his idea would not make it back to anyone outside of the castle.

The morning had a painfully slow pace. Between classes gave him time to think, pondering if he would, or should, take up his own advice. Finally, just before lunch, he took a square of parchment and put his raven feather quill to it, the same quill she'd given to him the previous year on his birthday.

Miss Felan,

Happy birthday.

Get well soon.

He did not sign it. He folded it so that it was half its original, already small, size. Perhaps it would get lost among the others. He placed it in his robes before he could think any further upon his actions.

At lunch, the professors were passing their letters or words of encouragement discretely to Percy at the end of the table. Severus simply dropped his on top of the others, meeting Percy's eyes for the briefest of seconds whilst doing so, before he moved on to take his seat beside Minerva.

The remainder of the afternoon was just as slow as the morning had proven. By the time dinner had come around, Severus was quite tired of dealing with students. They seemed to grate on his nerves more often than not as of late, particularly today when he was trying his hardest to not focus on how concerned he was. And the guilt had slowly been picking up speed. Now it all but consumed him.

So when the word was passed that Percy had delivered the letters successfully, and that he had news that he could share with them in an hour's time, Severus felt himself give a sigh of relief. After dinner, he could barely focus to grade two essays. Normally, he could have gotten at least five or six done in the same amount of time. Pathetic.

The professors were soon congregated in the staff room by seven. Percy was the last to arrive, holding a fairly long piece of parchment. Probably Granger's work.

"I want to say that Rebecca is stable, before I begin," Percy said. "Kingsley was having difficulty getting in touch with Minister Smith in America because he has been at hospital with her for the majority of the day."

The staff made sounds of joyous relief.

"The letter in your hand, Percy, read it to us," Minerva said.

Everyone settled in their seats, and Percy remained standing.

"I haven't gotten a chance to look it over yet," Percy said. "So forgive me if I stumble. It's from Hermione."

He cleared his throat, settling his horn-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose so he could peer over them and at the parchment. Severus wanted to leap across the room and take the parchment from him.

"Percy, we've had word from Minister Smith. Rebecca's condition is thus far stable, though she remained unconscious throughout the majority of the day. So Minister Smith has told Kingsley, she was under cover in a Ministry operation for the last few weeks, since her last letter to Harry, which was written on the ninth of this month. Minister Smith would only say that the operation dealt with illegal substances being smuggled into America, and that Rebecca volunteered for the position, citing her previous expertise in the related fields."

"Obviously something dealing with Dark artifacts or perhaps plant life," Slughorn said.

"Or illegal magical beast smuggling," Hagrid growled.

"Miss Felan's expertise areas were quite vast," Minerva said, lips growing thin. "It would be nearly impossible to figure out what, exactly she was doing, nor do I think it particularly matters."

The staff settled, Slughorn and Hagrid staring at the table.

"Continue, Percy," Minerva said.

The red head looked back at the parchment.

"She woke up around noon her time, but was not up for speaking for about half an hour. Rebecca seemed disoriented at first. Minister Smith was able to talk to her and recounted her story for us, removing the parts that might harm the case against the men she'd been spying upon.

"Rebecca claims that her position was somehow compromised. Her memory was slightly fuzzy on the details, but she thinks she may have accidentally slipped in her portrayal of the character she was pretending to be. Before she was able to react, the wizards had rid her of her disguise, in this case a transfiguration method, and tortured her. The Cruciatus was mainly used, though the mediwitches say that some physical damage was done as well to her person, though that she would not say. She was vague on many of the details concerning the attack. The mediwitches told Minister Smith that she would recover fairly quickly with proper care, but that she had suffered a concussion, which explains her memory loss and disorientation. The nerves in her left arm will take extra time to recover, most likely from the Cruciatus, and as it stands she has little feeling in the appendage. She has a cracked rib, easily fixed, and many bruises. Her tongue needed to be repaired while she was unconscious, as she'd bitten it terribly at some point, the mediwitches say, in an attempt to not scream."

Percy's voice wavered, and he stopped, staring at the parchment.

"Forgive me, I had no idea Hermione would be this graphic," he said, brows furrowing at the page.

"It's all right, Percy," Minerva said. "We need to hear this."

Severus' eyes flitted to the portrait behind Minerva, where he'd seen some movement since the beginning of the meeting. He'd thought little of it until Albus was in full view, seated before all the other inhabitants of the portrait, watching Percy intently.

Percy cleared his throat once more before continuing. "Minister Smith left her in the care of Deputy Head Auror Jamie Turner, who has apparently become a good friend to Rebecca during her time there. Jamie stayed with Rebecca in the room and delivered all of her messages from us and you, the staff, to her. He tried to get her to talk, but she would only read one letter and then set it aside for the next one.

"He said she was doing rather well by the time she'd been awake for an hour. She picked up the next piece of parchment—"

Percy stopped suddenly, his eyes looking up over the parchment and meeting Severus' directly. As quick as that movement was, Percy's eyes were back on the parchment faster. "I—I'm sorry, this part is a bit smudged out. I'll skip over it. I don't think it's important, in any case."

His finger was upon the parchment, following a line. "Here we are. After that, Jamie said that she expressed her desire to leave the hospital as soon as the next afternoon and return to work. Obviously, Minister Smith refused. She insisted, and Minister Smith was forced to relent to allowing her back at the Ministry in three days' time, with the express order of doing nothing except training the new recruits or doing deskwork.

"So, Percy, Rebecca fairs about as well as we have suspected. However, as we also suspected, she has been hiding much from us. Rebecca has no idea the Minister has been in contact with us as of yet, but Harry is currently setting up a time where they can converse directly back and forth via letters using my boxes. Until then, we won't know much more, but we can rest knowing that she's safe. Please inform Professor McGonagall that Ginny and I will be returning to the castle tomorrow morning. Hermione."

Percy folded up the parchment, his eyes leveling upon all of the staff in the room.

"Very well," Minerva said, the first one to have her wits about her. "I think that is all for now."

"I think not," Severus said, standing slowly, his eyes upon Percy. "I believe Professor Weasley is leaving out a piece of information the rest of us should be privy to."

"Severus," Percy said, his voice trying for even and cracking slightly at the end of the man's name. "I told you, I can't read that bit of the letter. I'm sure Hermione didn't mean to smudge it."

Severus approached the young man, staring him down as he did so. He was only a foot from Percy, then held out his hand.

"Allow me. I'm very good at deciphering what others cannot see."

For all his tiny tremors of fear, something else peeked through. Irritation. No—rage. Slowly, he lifted the parchment, his hand shaking from his emotions, and began to read.

"He—Jamie— said she was doing rather well by the time she'd been awake for an hour. She picked up the next piece of parchment, the smallest of the bunch, he said, and then the look upon her face completely changed. The parchment set aflame in her hand, and she tossed the ashes to the ground beside her bed before moving onto the next one."

Percy looked up, folding the parchment once more and putting it safely inside of his robes. "After that was when she tried to convince them that she was prepared to leave the next day."

The room was silent. The tension could have been as strong as a Shield Charm. Finally, Percy folding his hands together.

"I seem to recall that you sent a letter, Severus," Percy said evenly. "A very small letter."

Severus sneered. "Does every bloody person believe that I am the sole reason for Miss Felan's leaving?"

"No. But you did nothing to help."

From the corner of his eyes, Severus saw Albus' likeness get up from the portrait. He rounded from Percy and made his way to the portrait.

"What did I tell you about bringing a child into this war, Albus?" he said, his voice carrying across the room. "What did you think would happen to her? But she wasn't anything more to you than a pawn, like Potter. She could be expendable, but only if it was convenient for you! To hell with her state after the war!"

Albus stared at him from the portrait, not speaking. "Now you have nothing to say for yourself? You certainly had plenty of justification for everything when you were alive. Speak, you stupid, old fool!"

"Even a stupid, old fool knows when it is time for him to admit when he was wrong, Severus," Albus' likeness told him. "I failed Mr. Potter and Miss Felan more times than I wish to recall. I did what I thought would benefit everyone the most at the time without thinking of the consequences either of them might suffer later for it. It appears that Miss Felan received the worse end of the bargain, as it seems many Slytherins do."

"And to hell with them, is it?" Severus shouted. "Not as good as your precious Gryffindors? Not worth the time to see that they receive the same advantages? Do not deny it. That is precisely what you did during your tenure."

"I fear my prejudice in my younger days may have impaired my judgment for many fine, young Slytherins," Albus said, sounding very tired. "And, in particular, I failed two Slytherins above all others. And for that I can never do anything to repay the debt that I dug them into."

Severus found himself breathing heavily. Letting his emotions carry him into such a state was something he strove never to have happen, especially in front of the rest of the staff. But at that moment, he didn't care. He had gotten Albus to admit to his fallibility.

"But I had quite hoped that that two particular Slytherins would have found ways to help one another with the mess I had left them in," Albus said, then stepped from his portrait.

And there Severus stood, his hands clenching into tight fists and his jaw crushing his teeth together. Under the gaze of the silent staff members, even Filch, standing in the shadows, holding and petting his cat. Accusatory. Every single one of them.

He turned toward the door, his feet carrying him in that direction before his brain could even register the action. The door slammed behind him, and his long, quick strides had him at his quarters before very long. His wards up, Severus commenced to destroying his sitting area, fierce cries and shouted spells culminating into what was probably a cacophony of sound that might have been able to reach the dungeons had he not warded against the sound escaping the room.

Severus didn't know how long it had been, but he was spent. He let his wand fall to his side, his chest heaving as he strove to catch his breath.

Wasn't this the reaction he had wanted from her? Anger. To turn her attention from him. To never try and contact him again. Yes. He had wanted all of that from her.

And he had always wanted Albus to admit all the wrongs he'd done by all of them. Him, Potter, and especially the injustices done to Rebecca Felan, having been brought into this war in the most despicable way possible. Appealing to her better nature, her innocence, her willingness to help, the desire to prove herself. Appealing to her Slytherin nature, the one that had always been just under the surface. This all from the man who wished to not tell Severus of the girl's resemblance to his former love, and only by the kindness of Minerva had he been spared, the witch understanding that he and Lily had been good friends during their school days.

And the whole time, Albus had been conspiring to push them together, as if they could take comfort from one another, even after everything had happened.

At this point, he wasn't sure who he was more angry with. Himself, her, or Albus. But that was all he could feel, even as he sunk into the half put together chair, worn out.

The worst part was he could picture her, sneering in near perfect imitation of his own. Harnessing her rage as he'd always taught her to do. The magic it would take to create the flame without aid of her wand or her words would be great. So overpowering had to be her hatred that the magic must have flowed through her, and her flame would have been great. Still so young, yet so powerful. Much like he'd been. So misunderstood, so trampled upon. And he had helped the cycle he had never wanted to perpetuate for anyone, not after what he had suffered.

Severus looked around his sitting area, then decided this would be something best to deal with in the morning. He felt much too drained mentally, physically, and emotionally to try and attempt the necessary magic to repair everything.

He had so utterly failed her that it was painful. And that realization nearly broke him of his own hatred for her. She, too, had also failed him. Had she not saved him, he would have had time to release her from the Life Debt she owed him. The words had been on his thoughts even as her sweet lips touched his own for that final time.

In saving him, she'd ignored a direct order from him, and had been for quite a while. It broke the trust he'd put in her, the thing he never should have felt for her no matter their circumstances. And she had trusted him up until the end, when he'd flung the both of them out of the window and out of harm's way. Her holding tight to his chest had made his emotions soar as high as they flew.

And all of those emotions, he failed himself and her. Completely inappropriate, no matter what their status had been the year prior. This was what made her believe that any feelings she had toward him were love. She was perceptive, would have picked up on his feelings no matter how deeply he had attempted to bury them. Those feelings, whatever name she wanted to put to them, would have made her strive to name her own in an attempt to know how to reciprocate. It was his own fault that she'd come to think in the way she had.

And this was why she was currently so miserable. Because he had pushed her away, as was his duty to do. Someone like her deserved much more than what he could give her, especially in that state his mind had been last June. She deserved better than the life Albus had set up for her the moment he desired to have her as a spy. But she had also suffered so much loss, perhaps it had all culminated into what she was currently feeling. Anger, hatred, stubborn bravery and stupidity, which could be interchangeable most times, and her insatiable desire to prove herself to everyone, to herself, and now to him.

But he had an invite to both Weasley and Granger's wedding and Potter and Ginevra's wedding. And Potter had, essentially, blackmailed him into coming. He'd give exact details to the press of Severus' good deeds if he did not show up at both of the events. It was definitely an attempt to get him and Rebecca together, Severus knew it. And he now understood why the Sorting Hat had wanted to place Potter in Slytherin.

So he'd agreed. He would see her at those weddings, and if she would permit him to speak to her, he would tell her exactly how much of a dunderhead she was being and to get over it. Over all of it. There was nothing she could change.

He couldn't help but think of what she might be dressed in. How her hair would look. The piercing quality behind her bright, green eyes. So full of intelligence, wit, and always knowing a lie when she saw it. Would she think him lying? How harshly would she judge him herself? Had she perfected her sneer, her scowl? Did she still shy from others' touch? Would she flinch at his own, though she never had before when they were not acting?

That thought made him stop. She should flinch from him. And the fact that he secretly hoped she wouldn't…

It had been a long day. He needed to sleep.

Severus undressed and covered himself with his general sleeping attire, an old pair of black sweatpants. He used to sleep nearly fully dressed, when it was uncertain when he would be Summoned and when others might have need to care for him should he be unconscious. Now he could indulge himself in wearing as few articles of clothing as possible when he was alone. It allowed him some sense of relaxation.

His fingers went to his neck, feeling the ugly scars upon the sensitive skin there. Large, textured roughly about the edges, where Nagini's fangs had ripped from his skin at her forced withdrawal. The dittany had only been successful in a minor way of closing the wounds. But he had paid a small price for what the Dark Lord had wanted him for.

Being alive was a relief. And he still didn't want it to be.

He slipped under the covers, closing his eyes and hoping his dreams would not be of her. But inevitably, they were. But they stood far apart from one another in the dream, she seated with her back firmly against the wall and he across the room from her. Neither of them spoke. They simply stared. Stubborn silence. Finally, she lifted her wand.

The wolf Patronus stood between them now, beautiful and regal in its silvery light. Its maw opened suddenly, her voice spilling from its unmoving lips.

"I hate you."

Severus eyes shot open, but he did not sit up in bed. He oriented himself, then steadied his breathing.

It was a long time until June 27, when he would see her. But he would have to wait, to hold out until then. And he would deserve every one of her words.

Letters back and forth from Harry & Rebecca, April 2, 1999

Becca,

I've given you the time you needed to recover and get your head on straight. We're talking tonight via this letter whether you like it or not.

Why'd you lie to us?

Because I wanted you all to get on without me. I never planned on returning to England if I could help it. There are too many things for me there, things I can't bear to think about a thousand miles away. Voldemort is dead, Bellatrix is dead, Greyback is in Azkaban, and I'm still afraid. I'm constantly afraid. And angry.

I didn't want to bring you all down. I'm unwell. Like Remus. Affected. Tainted. Something. Whatever verb you deign appropriate. Nothing has helped, and I don't know if anything ever will.

You're not tainted, Becca. I can't believe you ever thought that we could just move on without you. You're our best friend. We wouldn't just forget that because you moved across a bloody ocean.

I'm sorry. I'm trying not to get angry, to understand. The war affected us all, and I know that your situation was much different from ours. It's something I can't understand fully. But I know the fear. The constant feeling of it pressing on you. It still overtakes me sometimes, overtakes us all. I'll wake up some nights thinking that I'm still in the middle of it all. But we've lost. We've all lost. I can't imagine what you're going through, but I want to try.

But please don't think we'd give up on you so easily. We want you to come back, to stay. Not just for the wedding. We'll get you all the help we can get you. Anything you need. We'll even help you deal with the problem you're having with the memories. We can go to Hogwarts, wherever. We want to help.

I know you do. Everyone wants to help. But I don't know what will help. I promise that I'm actually seeking help this time, and being escorted to and from my mental health sessions by Jamie. He says that he has no problem "telling on me," as it were.

I won't ruin your weddings. I'll be on my best behaviour, and we will work on it when you come back from your respective honeymoons. I'm sure that having some time to myself while there, to think, might be helpful. Seeing everyone again may bring up my mood.

I'm not concerned you'll ruin anything. None of us are. We still want you to come back, sooner if it was possible, but we know it's not.

I have another question. A few, actually, but this one is really more pressing.

Did you purposefully slip while you were spying this last time? What happened?

No, I would never purposefully slip. I'm not suicidal. Just the feeling of impending doom seems to follow me. But never suicidal.

I don't know what happened, really. One moment everything was fine, and they believed that I was who I was pretending to be. The next moment, I'd mucked it all up. I'm trying so hard to remember I get headaches sometimes. Even the Pensieve doesn't help. They may have always suspected, but had waited until this moment to strike. I don't know. Maybe I did something not like the person I was imitating, or I hadn't hidden my Dark Mark as well as I thought. It's tough to say.

As far as I know, the assault was only physical and magical and nothing else. The mediwitches are simply lucky that they checked me while I was unconscious or I would have been much more difficult to deal with.

Okay. I just had to check. Thank you for being so open with me and everyone else. You don't have to hide this from us, or anything. We'll always support you.

Why did you really leave? Was it just… was it Professor Snape? Was it everything? Were we just not helping you like we should have been? I still don't understand.

It was everything. I can't explain any further. I just can't right now.

That's fine. We can talk about that when you come back.

But the letter you burned up when you were in hospital. That was Professor Snape's.

Yes. It was his letter. As suspected, he's not my favorite person in the world.

Also, clever of Hermione to try and get a rise out of him by describing my injuries so graphically. Percy told me, before you ask. Apparently got a hold of Hermione's box with Ginny's help and sent me a letter telling me about the events that occurred in the staff room that night. It was kind of him to do so, if misplaced.

I feel numb when I think about him. That will probably answer your next question. I don't think about him when I can help it. Another question. And I have little interest in encountering him while back home.

I didn't know Percy had already contacted you. Yeah, Hermione wrote a pretty… intense letter. She tried to guilt trip him. But it's not entirely his fault you've left, so it was unfair of her.

Yes, that does answer a lot of my next questions.

What else have you lied about?

Nothing.

Is my interrogation over?

For now. Please just know that you can contact us whenever you need. We'll respond to you the same day. We're all looking forward to June.

I am, too.

But I think I'm going to focus on getting better on my own. I'll send you occasional letters, letting you all know how I'm faring. But I'm going to be making up the test that I missed at the end of March since I was indisposed for the most part. I'm scheduled to take it at the end of this month, which is the only time they'll allot for me. I need this in order to proceed with my Potions Mastery, and I can't ruin that chance. I'm not trying to push you away again, seriously. But I need time to think without having so many different opinions in my head once my test is done.

I understand that much. We'll look forward to your updates. I'm sure you'll beat the test into submission.

Love,

Harry

Thanks. You are all the best friends I could ever have. It's scary. But I appreciate it.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Rebecca to Harry & Co., April 30, 1999

Harry & All,

I took my test yesterday, and they've told me today that I've passed. Obviously, I'm pleased. This means that all I need to do is brew and show competency for how a Potions Master or Mistress takes care of him or herself for a Ministry-certified test proctor/Potions Master, and everything will go well. I can choose whatever methods I want in order to prepare for this—they're very lenient about it all.

On the other front, I'm working closely with a different Ministry psychologist. She seems to be more receptive and helpful. I'm still experiencing a lot of the same feelings we previously talked about, but they are at a somewhat lesser scale. Ms. Underhill tells me that this is the most difficult and slow-going part, as it doesn't seem like any progress is being made. But it will get better. I'm hopeful.

Also, we managed to catch them men who I was originally after. They're getting attempted murder added onto their sentences. Their trial is set before I have to leave, so I won't have to interrupt my visit in order to come back and testify, so no worries.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, April 30, 1999

Becca,

That's great news all around! We all knew that you could pass the test. Remus adds that you probably crushed it. I'm sure he's right.

We're really proud of you with sticking with your program. And we're marking the days off on a calendar until you arrive. We're beside ourselves with happiness.

I'm glad you found the men who hurt you. I'm sure with your testimony, it'll be a fairly simply case to prosecute.

Draco wants me to tell you that he's going to keep you on his feet when you get here with sarcasm, no matter how much I tell him to try and coddle you. Which I'm not telling him to do. Obviously, he's exaggerating.

And we want to ask after your arm. Has the feeling returned at all? Are you doing any sort of physical therapy for everything?

Love,

Harry & Co.

Letter from Rebecca to Harry & Co., May 10, 1999

Harry & All,

Thank you for your letter. I've read it when I'm feeling down, and it does help. Re-reading a lot of the letters helps. It reminds me that I'm not just doing this for myself.

I'm also looking forward to when I'll be able to come back. Six weeks and four days.

Ms. Underhill wanted me to tell you about my feelings on returning, so here it goes:

I'm so scared. I don't think I've ever wanted to really tell anyone about how scared I am because I've tried to make myself seem fearless, which is impossible. I'm so scared about coming back and undoing everything that I've been working for over the past month, and what I tried to do earlier, when I first got here. But I know you all will be there to support me, Harry with your coddling and Draco with his sarcasm and reminders of when my humour wasn't just a defensive mechanism or a way to lie to people.

Okay. I think that sufficiently sums it up.

I am going to physical therapy. It's a lot harder than I expected it to be. I'm also taking potions of my own brewing in order to attempt to get more feeling back in it. My left arm is my dominant arm, so it's very important to get as much back to me. My fingers are still as dexterous as they were previously, but it's difficult to imagine that since I can't actually feel them very well most of the time. I am getting better, and my therapist is confident with my potions and continued therapy, I should have most of my feeling back before I come to visit. I believe they targeted my left arm because of the Dark Mark. I'll tell you if my theory is correct after their trial, which is set to take place later this week.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry & Co. to Rebecca, May 11, 1999

Becca,

Thank you for opening up. I've read your letter to the others, and we all agree that you're making progress, even if you don't think you are. Keep working with Ms. Underhill, and we're certain you'll be fine when you get here.

Even if you need help, we'll never be far from you. Mrs. Weasley is currently fixing up your room for your stay here. She says she knows it's still a while off, but she's got a surprise for you anyway.

Love,

Harry & Everyone

Letter from Rebecca to Harry & Co., May 28, 1999

Harry & All,

Sorry for the lack of updates, but I had a bit of a relapse that needed to be taken care of. I tried to isolate myself again after the trial, and Jamie had to forcibly take me to my appointments with Ms. Underhill. I've told you I'd be honest from here on out, so here's the truth: I didn't want to keep going because I didn't think it was helping. I had convinced myself I was better off trying to get better on my own, though it hadn't been working for the past few months at all. Thankfully, Jamie noticed and pulled me to my senses, and he nearly got hexed in the process. Stupid man.

Anyway, I'm doing better than I was last week, but I've kind've gone back a few steps in my process. I'll get better.

My theory about them targeting my Dark Mark was correct. I can't say I entirely blame them for everything it represents, but that doesn't mean they had to try and kill me because of it.

In any case, my nerves are slowly recovering. I might have less feeling in it when I visit than I expected because of my set back, but it won't hinder me. I'm becoming ambidextrous, which I suppose is a good skill to have. I've heard being right-handed is a lot easier anyway.

Love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, May 29, 1999

Becca,

I'm relieved to hear you're doing better. The lack of communication was beginning to scare me, but I know you wanted to do this on your own somewhat. I'm glad that Jamie is able to help you, even going so far as to put himself in harm's way to do so. You've got a mean hex no matter what it is. Send him my thanks and tell him we'd like to meet him at some point.

Let us know when you get here if there's anything any of us can do to help with your arm. We want you as healthy as possible.

3 weeks, 4 days.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, June 5, 1999

Harry,

Make that two weeks and four days.

Not much to update on. I'm currently feeling more stable than I did even mid-March. But I still feel the fear, particularly with larger crowds. But I should be fine for the weddings. It'll mostly be people I'm familiar with there anyway.

Send my love to everyone.

Love, Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, June 6, 1999

Becca,

There won't be too many people there. Probably about 50, most likely, at both weddings, but no more than 60. And the two reporters per wedding.

Everyone sends their love in return, and their happiness that you're doing well.

2 weeks, 3 days.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, June 14, 1999

Harry,

One week, 2 days.

Still no progress.

I'm keeping up with my workout routine, though. Yoga, meditation, karate. The physical activity seems to help me sleep better, have less nightmares. I don't take Dreamless Sleep potion anymore because I don't want to be addicted to it. I can't afford something like that right now.

I've discovered it's much easier to block with a somewhat-feeling-less arm in karate. I thought it could prove useful, but I've been told not to be so reckless with my own body. The thought that that's what I'd been doing had never crossed my mind, so I immediately rejected that idea. But it is getting better. I can feel my fingers when I touch them to one another and when I'm touching other things for the most part. It's faint, but it's something.

All my love,

Rebecca

Letter from Harry to Rebecca, June 15, 1999

1 week, 1 day.

Glad to hear about your routine and your progress with your arm. You should invite me and Ron to join in for your workouts. It'd be interesting to see if we could keep up. And knowing some karate moves might be helpful.

Love,

Harry

Letter from Rebecca to Harry, June 23, 1999

Harry,

You've got yourself a deal.

See you tomorrow.

Love,

Rebecca