He stumbled out from the Willow two days later, covered in scratches and wishing it were spring so the moon didn't set while the sky was still pitch black and barely making it to safety before the Willow came to life. He leapt out of the way of a particularly long, vengeful branch and nearly collapsed on – Severus? Remus landed awkwardly on the ground, staring up at the slender, black robed figure standing by his head, its arms folded and enormous eyes regarding him without emotion. The exhausted, recently transformed werewolf hoped he looked that calm, but had a feeling he only looked shocked and injured, and wished Severus hadn't seen him like this, when the evidence that he wasn't human – would never be human – was still blazed across his skin.

As usual it was silent, for awhile, but Remus knew that this time Severus' silence must mean disgust and horror at beholding a subhuman creature, a diseased wizard whose hands had been claws only an hour before. He closed his eyes, and did not dare to look again at Severus' face, did not want to see the neutral expression give way to revulsion. "The tree spirits are part of the lifeblood of a Romani," the voice above him finally said, with a storyteller's lilt. "They grow, you could say, by moonlight. They are nourished by their planter, as the planter is nourished by them." Remus let the words wash over him, run through his tired body. "You might say it is a symbiotic relationship, though that is an inadequate description." And leave it to Severus, to know everything on a level where it could not be explained in words – and why did he know that about Severus? "They do not normally glow." Remus opened his mouth to argue that the trees, tree spirits he had seen were glowing, but Severus cut him off. "They glow once before dying," the Snape heir said, answering the protest Remus had not made.

"They were dying?" Remus questioned hoarsely, throat still raw from howling at the cruel moon. "Why were they dying?" And he heard the catch in the air above him, though he was too tired to understand what it meant, or to open his eyes.

Severus swallowed hard, and there was silence again but for the cry of screech owl and the thunder rumbling on the horizon. "As I said, Lupin," came the soft reply, and Remus had not known Severus' voice could be stilted, "It is a symbiotic relationship." Then there was a rustle of fabric – silk, he thought, but the thunder came again, louder, and he couldn't be sure – and only the faint smell of cardamom and bergamot remained where Severus had stood. Remus did not even have time to open his eyes before it started to rain.