Severus spent only a few minutes packing a bag for his little hiatus from Hogwarts, and, as he looked around his rooms, he felt an odd sense of leaving home, which was utterly ridiculous on some level and quite understandable on another. Hogwarts was his home, in the sense that he lived there, but there was more to it than that. It was also the only place he could ever remember feeling like a home. From the time he was eleven years old and first stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, Severus had never known any other place to be a home. And, he realized with a start, he had literally spent more than half his life in these walls.

"Stupid, sentimental fool," he muttered irately at himself and picked up his bag and his traveling cloak. "It isn't as though you're leaving forever. Only for a week. You've been gone for a week before." But, he had never taken a vacation. Not one. In sixteen years of teaching at Hogwarts, he had never left the school for personal reasons for more than a few hours. There had been missions for the Order, and summons from the Dark Lord, but never a journey that had no purpose.

Pausing at the doorway, he looked back at his bedchamber for a moment and closed his eyes, trying to block the memories that continued to plague him. Dumbledore, while insisting that he not be alone in his chambers, had fallen somewhat short of actually monitoring his movements, and was waiting in his sitting room. The Headmaster had studiously ignored the shattered glass that still littered the floor, and, when Severus stepped into his bedchamber to pack, Dumbledore had been seated with a book. He was most likely still in there. For a moment, he leaned against the doorframe, then took a deep breath and straightened. When he opened the door to step into his sitting room, Dumbledore looked up and smiled. "Do you have everything you need?" he asked.

Severus nodded.

"Very well, my boy," Dumbledore said, standing. "I've already contacted Remus and told him that you're coming through, so he's expecting you."

Again, Severus nodded.

"Do try to enjoy yourself," the Headmaster smiled and placed a gentle hand on Severus' shoulder. Severus said nothing as he picked up a fistful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

"Number Twelve Grimmauld Place," he said clearly, and dropped the glittering powder. In a flare of emerald smoke he was gone. When he emerged in the kitchen of the Black House, Severus looked around suspiciously, and then his eyes settled on the table. There was a folded piece of parchment with his name on it, and he walked over to it, shifting his bag to his left hand as he flicked the page open with his right.

I went out. I'll be back around 10. The second bedroom on the third floor is probably the cleanest in the house, and there is fresh bedding in the second floor linen closet. Make yourself at home. RL.

A glance at the clock told Severus he had nearly two hours before the other occupant of the house returned, a fact for which he was grateful. There was a sudden whistling brought his attention to the stove, and he couldn't help a small smile at the tea kettle that was so proudly announcing its accomplishment. Severus walked over to it and his eyes drifted to a teacup and saucer on the counter beside the little teapot, and a pair of small canisters which were out of line with the rest of them. Peering inside, he found bags in one and leaves in the other. He selected a bag and dropped it in the cup, then poured in the steaming water, setting the cup aside to let it steep for a few minutes while he ventured upstairs. True to his word, the indicated bedroom was clean and sparsely furnished with mismatched furniture, but the bed looked comfortable enough, and there was no dust or mildew to be seen. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and peered inside, then looked in the wardrobe. Satisfied that the room was not going to kill him (always a distinct possibility in this house), Severus placed his bag on the bed and went back downstairs, retrieving his tea and pausing on the second floor to find bedding, which was folded neatly in the linen closet as the note had said it would be.

He moved slowly and deliberately around his temporary bedroom, making the bed, frowning at the curtains. He pointed his wand at his bag and it opened, and his belongings returned to their original size as he made himself comfortable. At least, as comfortable as he could. The sheets were clean, but they were white cotton, and a low thread count, though much of the discomfort he might associate with such poor quality sheets had been negated by their obvious age. The fabric was almost buttery underneath his fingers. The quilt was also soft and worn with age, and, despite being clean, it smelled faintly of previous owners. There was a desk against one wall, and it wobbled slightly when he touched it, but a brief spell stabilized it, and a murmured 'lumos' brought the lamp on it to life. He placed the few books he'd brought with him against the wall, frowning slightly at the titles. Three works of fiction and a biography. Hardly the study material he would normally have brought, but Dumbledore was quite insistent that he not bring his work along with him.

Slowly, the time passed, and, as Severus reached for the last of his belongings, he heard the door open downstairs. With a frown, he looked at the book in his hand, not recognizing it for a moment, but after thumbing through the blank pages, it dawned on him what it was. A journal that Hermione Granger had given him for his birthday. A birthday gift. That was still odd when he considered it-- Aislinn had celebrated his birthday, and, for the first time in years, he'd had gifts and none of them were cruel pranks. He remembered thinking how odd it was to receive a journal; after all, he'd never written in one. And he didn't know what had possessed him to pick it up this time. Frowning, he looked for a place to put it, and his eyes landed on the bedside table. Opening the drawer to drop it in, his frown deepened as he peered inside.

"Did you find everything all right?"

Severus glanced over his shoulder at Lupin, who was standing in the hall, not even touching the door.

"Of course," he replied, frowning into the drawer again. "I'm not daft."

There was a moment of silence, and Severus considered the small, clear vial he'd been staring at. It looked innocuous enough, but he was suspicious of it, and he wished that Lupin would go away so that he wouldn't have to endure the chortles of laughter if it turned out to be nothing but a spare bottle rolling around in the drawer of a forgotten room in an old house.

"Is something wrong?" Lupin asked, and another glance showed that he'd advanced a step, but still stood outside the door.

Severus frowned slightly. "Of course not," he replied, forcing his apprehensions aside. It's just a bottle, he chided himself. Just pick it up and throw it out.

"Is there something in the drawer?" Lupin prompted, and with a sneer, Severus dropped the journal into the drawer and slammed it.

"Just an old bottle," he replied off-handedly.

Lupin finally entered the room, wand drawn, and opened the drawer. "Ridikulus!" he pointed his wand at the bottle, and it morphed into a crystal orb, which Lupin snatched up with a handkerchief. "Boggart," he explained needlessly, and Severus glared slightly. "Sorry about that. I didn't know he was there, or I'd have already taken care of him."

"I am capable of taking care of boggarts," Severus said stiffly.

Lupin offered a weak smile. "I know," he replied. "But it isn't particularly hospitable to leave a boggart in one's houseguest's rooms."

Severus shrugged uncomfortably.

"Sorry to intrude," Lupin said softly, his smile fading. "If you need anything, let me know." The werewolf turned to leave, and he was halfway out the door when Severus spoke.

"Wait."

Lupin stopped and turned around slowly. "Yes?" he asked.

Severus' lips curled into a sneer of sorts, but he forced himself to speak. "I... feel I owe you an apology," he said, the words much more difficult to force out of his mouth than he'd anticipated.

Remus breathed a slight laugh. "I owe you several," he replied. "But I've never had much success offering them."

He thought about that for a moment, but could find nothing overly offensive about the statement. "I was unnecessarily harsh last night," Severus said stiffly.

"And I was unnecessarily persistent," Lupin replied off-handedly. "Shall we call it bygones?"

For a moment, Severus just stared, but then nodded slowly. Was that how one accepted an apology gracefully? He glanced around the room, his eyes flitting from bed to chair to desk to wardrobe, not sure what to do or say next. Wasn't that the story of his life? How ironic was it that he was capable of attending Death Eater meetings and of facing down errant students. But a simple conversation with another human... He snorted softly.

"Was that a yes?"

"I suppose so."

There was a pause, then Lupin cleared his throat. "Mind if I sit?" he asked, indicating one of the two chairs.

"Please," Severus waved slightly at the chair, settling himself into the other. Lupin took his seat.

There was a moment of silence, and then Lupin spoke. "Honestly, Severus," he said softly, "just between us. Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm..." he began heatedly, then paused. "Honestly?" he asked softly.

"Honestly."

Severus frowned again. "I guess I'm probably not coping as well as I should be."

Lupin shifted in his chair. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked, and the concern sounded genuine.

"I don't know," Severus murmured. "I've never..." he frowned, trailing off.

"Never lost anyone you cared about?" Remus suggested softly, and at first, Severus nodded, then suddenly shook his head.

"No, that's not really true," he said thoughtfully. "But it has been a long time since I've cared about anyone and I was...am… rather out of practice." He leaned back in the chair and folded his hands on his stomach. "Caught unprepared for everything involved in caring about someone."

Lupin nodded and shifted again. "These aren't the most comfortable chairs in the world, are they?" he asked.

Severus snorted. "Not really," he agreed.

"Come down to the kitchen? I think Molly left about half a cake there."

After a long, considering pause, Severus nodded. "Very well."

Lupin rose and walked out of the bedroom, and, after a moment's hesitation in which he tried to decide whether or not to ward the room, Severus followed. He did not even shut the door, deciding that the only other person in the house was the man he was following downstairs. When they reached the kitchen, Lupin illuminated the room with a wave of his wand, and gestured at the table. Severus seated himself, and, after a moment, Lupin placed two plates, two forks and a half a cake on the table in front of him. Severus uncovered the cake while Lupin disappeared again, and he was busy eyeing the sweet when the werewolf returned with two bottles in his hand.

"What's that?" Severus asked as Lupin placed one of the bottles in front of him.

Lupin laughed. "Don't tell me you've never seen a beer," he chided, popping the top off his bottle.

Severus frowned slightly. "I must say my tastes generally run in a more civilized direction."

Lupin shrugged and lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a healthy drink. "Suit yourself," he replied indifferently, picking up the knife. He grinned suddenly. "Want half?" he asked, carving the remainder of the cake in half and scraping the large chunk of chocolate onto a plate. He offered it to Severus, who stared at it for a minute before taking it.

"Thank you," he said, still staring at the cake that was now in his own hand.

Lupin's grin slipped into a more melancholy smile as he placed the remainder of the cake on his own plate and picked up a fork. "James' mum made the best carrot cake," he said softly. "We used to go to his house in the summer and shed bake a cake, and Sirius'd filch it at night and the four of us would split it. She always yelled the next morning when there was none left, but you could tell she didn't mean it; and she always left it out where we could find it."

Severus snorted softly. "She must have been a woman of remarkable patience to put up with the lot of you."

Lupin smiled wistfully. "She was," he replied, then shook his head, as though to clear the thought from it. "Didn't your mum ever do things like that for you and your friends?"

"I can't imagine my mother baking," Severus replied shortly. "And I never had friends. But then, you knew that."

Lupin frowned and took a bite of his cake. "But why didn't you? I mean, I know we were pricks, but there were enough other people who thought so that surely…"

"I preferred it that way." Severus took a sudden interest in his cake, slicing off a large wedge with the edge of his fork, and then dividing it into three pieces. There was silence from across the table, and for a moment, it was the same strained quiet that there had often been when he and Lupin were in the same room.

"But why?" Lupin asked suddenly.

Severus sighed. "What does it matter?"

"I don't know," the other man said with a shrug, taking another drink. "I guess I just don't understand. I've been utterly alone for so much of my life, and I've hated every minute of it. The only times I've ever felt like there was something worth living for was when I was around my friends, and I… I just don't understand why anyone would choose to live a life of solitude."

Severus dropped his fork and rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment. "Solitude is far preferable to prying, inane questions," he said pointedly, and Lupin chuckled.

"All right," he said. "I'm just trying to make conversation. You pick something."

"If I had your notable ability to make conversation out of nothing, I likely would have more friends," he pointed out testily.

Remus sighed. "You know, you could put some effort into this."

"Why? You're doing a fine job by yourself."

Remus sighed and his fork clattered to his plate. "You know something, Severus," he began, "you are your own worst enemy. I am not going to sit here and take abuse from you while I try to be friendly. I thought perhaps you would like to have a friendly face here, but if this is the way you wish to conduct the next week, I will see to it that I stay out of your way and will appreciate you staying out of mine. This house is more than big enough for two people to live in it without speaking to or looking at each other." The last was said softly enough that it made Severus wonder if there was a double meaning to it. He hadn't the time to ponder it for long, though, before Remus stood, gathering his beer and cake. "Good night."

Severus stabbed irately at his cake for a moment, shearing off another thin sliver of it and separating cake from frosting. Remus was halfway to the door when he decided to speak. "Wait."

Remus paused and turned around, raising his eyebrows. "What?"

Good question. Think, damn you. An excuse. "I… er…" he took a bite of his cake and chewed slowly before continuing, buying himself a moment to cast around for a reason to have stopped him. "We haven't discussed the price of the room I'm renting from…"

"Consider it a gift."

Severus frowned. "Have you become independently wealthy that you needn't an additional income? Last I checked, you weren't gainfully employed and…"

"Thanks to you," Remus said bitterly. "And you are the last person I want a handout from. Is there anything else? Surely you have a parting insult to fling at me before I go up to revel in my solitude."

Severus looked down at his plate and pushed another piece of cake around on it. "No," he said softly. "I suppose not." He had the most ridiculous urge to apologize to Lupin. Utterly ridiculous. He took another bite of cake.

"Good night then. You know where the tea is, and Molly left some sticky buns. They're in the pantry if you want some for breakfast." He shifted his beer to the hand he was holding his cake in and reached for the door.

"Wait."

"WHAT? Would you please stop toying with me, Severus? Please?"

Severus took another miniscule bite of cake. "I… er…" he used one tine of the fork to separate a nut from the frosting and pushed it to the edge of the plate. "You don't have to leave," he said after a moment. "I didn't intend to drive you from your own kitchen."

Once more, Remus studied him for a minute, then sighed. "Do you want me to stay down here?"

It was as though warning bells were going off in his head, and Severus shoved a large bite of the cake into his mouth. When he swallowed, he shrugged. "I just…" he frowned at his fork as though it were suddenly deeply offensive to him. "I wasn't trying to insult you," he said softly.

Remus snorted softly. "Was that an apology?"

"Close as you're going to get," Severus replied tightly, and for a minute, he thought that Remus was going to roll his eyes and stalk out. He didn't, though, and was chuckling as he brought his cake and beer back to the table.

"Accepted, then," he replied, sitting again.

Severus looked at the beer in front of him again. It's just because the cake is so damn sweet, he rationalized as he reached for it. His interest in it ended rather abruptly as he realized that the lid capping it was not something he was familiar with, and damned if he was going to ask Remus how to open a bottle of beer. Remus didn't make him ask it, but reached for the bottle, picking up a small metal… thing… that was lying on the table. Severus set to watch surreptitiously, but realized it was unnecessary, as Remus kept it in plain sight as he pressed the rounded end of the metal thing against the top of the cap and hooked a small protrusion under the edge, popping off the top. Without a word, he placed the bottle in front of Severus again.

"Thank you," Severus conceded softly, reaching for the bottle.

Remus shrugged. "Any time." He looked as though he wanted to say more, but didn't.

Severus studied the bottle for a moment, then sniffed cautiously at it, recoiling slightly before he caught himself. It smelled awful. Steeling himself for something unpleasant, he took a deep breath and drank from the bottle, pleasantly surprised that it didn't taste as bad as it smelled.

"You've really never had a beer." This time it was a statement, and edged with incredulity.

"I really haven't," Severus replied, looking at the bottle again. It really wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Remus shook his head in disbelief, and Severus paused with the bottle at his lips. "When was the last time you drank cognac, Remus?" he asked conversationally.

Remus laughed. "Point taken."

Severus' lips curled slightly before he drank again. "Really," he said. "Have you ever had cognac?"

Remus shook his head, taking another bite of his cake. "Too expensive," he replied as he swallowed. "I've never had that much money to spend on one bottle of alcohol."

"And you friends?" Severus asked, knowing that Black, at least, couldn't say the same. And likely not Potter.

Snorting softly, Remus shook his head. "Fifteen years ago, we were still drowning ourselves in kegs of beer," he replied, his eyes taking on a faraway look again. "Lily used to come down around two in the morning with her hands on her hips telling James that if he didn't make it to bed that night, he needn't bother trying for the next week."

Despite himself, Severus chuckled. "Did it work?"

Remus grinned. "Not the first time, but I think she made a believer of him. And that was barely two weeks after they got married." Another bite of cake and another swig of beer, and Severus shook his head, regaining most of his disdain. Rutting fool probably couldn't stand to be deprived for a week. Remus seemed to read his mind, though. "You know how women can be bloody persuasive," he commented dryly.

Severus nearly retorted that he had no idea what Remus was talking about, but he stopped short, a memory of Aislinn urging him into Muggle clothing on Christmas Eve overtaking his innate instinct to protest. "I suppose so," he replied softly.

There was a long pause, then Remus stood. "Want another beer?" he asked. Severus hefted his bottle and was surprised to realize there was less than a fourth of it left.

"Please."

A moment later, Remus returned, and opened his bottle, then sat again. "You know," he began thoughtfully, his fingers turning the bottle in a slow circle, "you didn't tell me much about her before we were interrupted the other day. She was a student of yours who came back to teach divination…?"

Severus' frowned deepened and he momentarily considered telling Remus to sod off. The beer, however, was making him feel a bit more mellow than normal, and, draining the last of it, he couldn't think of a reason in the world to not tell the other man what a wonderful woman Aislinn had been. At least, he justified his willingness to talk by blaming it on the beer, unlikely though that was, given his own drinking habits. He separated another corner of the cake, and set to dividing it by layers. "She was decidedly not my type," he said softly. "Always cheerful, always going on about some silly Muggle version of magic. Wishing wells and shooting stars," the reminiscent smile on his face belied the spiteful words.

"No harm there," Lupin commented neutrally.

"I suppose not," Severus shrugged. "She had all the sense of a rock, though, and that famed Gryffindor courage. Really, she needed a keeper." And you relished that role, didn't you? Her protector. Rescuing her from crises of her own making.

"How do you mean?"

Severus snorted softly, but his lips were curled into a slight smile still. "She wore the most ridiculous shoes," he replied quietly. "She was already as tall as you are, if not taller, and the shoes she wore added another three inches. I don't think I've ever had to look up to look a woman in the eye."

Remus' eyes widened slightly. "I can imagine," he replied. He wasn't overly tall, but Severus doubted many women looked him in the eye either.

"She came down to speak to me, and she… I don't know. She fell. Hurt her ankle. Those damn shoes."

"Not seriously hurt, I hope?"

Severus sneered slightly. "Just serious enough to be under Pomfrey's care for the next two days."

Lupin grimaced, but nodded.

"It was just before the Halloween Feast. There was a dance this year for the older students. An she was determined to join the festivities." He suddenly laughed, a genuine, if unaccustomed sound. "Do you know what she did?"

Lupin shook his head. "I'm sure I couldn't guess," he replied, drinking again.

Severus' laugh faded into a fond smile. "All the students were just milling about, not dancing. You know how students are," Remus nodded, a sardonic smile on his face. Severus knew that they'd all been as bad when they were that age. "She went over to a group of the boys and invited one of them to dance with her."

Remus grinned. "That probably made some bloke's night."

Severus laughed softly. "That isn't the half of it. The Defense teacher asked one of the girls to dance, and halfway through the song, he and Aislinn conveniently switched partners, so the students were dancing." He shook his head. "We all joined in the conspiracy. Almost all of us."

"Did you?" Remus asked.

For a moment, Severus was quiet; even the memory still surprised him. "Yeah," he replied softly. "Even me. We spent most of the night pairing up students."

"It was a brilliant idea, really, wasn't it?"

Severus nodded, reaching for the metal thing and studying it for a minute before attempting to pop off the top of the next beer. To his relief, it didn't require any great skill, and he didn't make a fool of himself. "Quite. She was always doing things to make other people's lives a little brighter."

"Including yours." Remus' smile was not pitying, but… understanding.

Severus nodded, then shook his head. "We spent the first six weeks of the term at each other's throats," he admitted. "She was everything I despised, constantly making a fool of me. Enjoying it."

"What changed?"

Flushing slightly, Severus quickly took a long drink of his beer. "She, erm…" he grimaced. "She interpreted my astrological chart. I… I think she felt sorry for me and… decided to be nice."

Remus snorted softly. "Divination. Of course. I keep having an image of Sybill."

Severus shook his head firmly. "Banish the thought," he replied. "Couldn't have been more different. And, what she said in her interpretation was… spot on, really."

"Really?" The other man sounded impressed. "Must have been lucky guesses. Or she talked to someone."

With a shrug, Severus took another bite of his cake, suddenly realizing that it was more than half gone. He'd never eaten that much cake. "I thought so too at first," he said thoughtfully. "And I thought her shooting stars and wishing wells and such were… rot."

"And now you don't?" Remus didn't sound particularly convinced.

Severus shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "It's complicated."

"I have time," Remus replied casually, taking another swig of his beer.

After a moment's consideration, Severus began a halting account of Christmas Eve, and St. Aldegundis Children's Hospital. They talked until nearly four in the morning, conversation coming more easily as the night stretched on and the beer flowed.