This is a fanfiction based in JKR's world of Harry Potter. Original characters are mine. All others are hers. Please see the first chapter for full disclaimers and credits to my wonderful team of betas. I've had a lot of help with this story!

Alternate Universe to Half-blood Prince.

This chapter contains some review of information also contained within the prologue, but is as short as possible so as not to bore those of you who took the time to read the prologue.

Chapter 3: Remembrances

Rowena sat silent and alone in her flat, obviously fuming. In the last few days her very quiet, admittedly slightly dull, life had been in uproar. First, three days ago, Severus Snape had arrived unexpectedly at her Ministry lab, and now this.

Her mother had just left after a long and somewhat heated argument. In the end, Rowena had relented. But she was not happy about it.

This coming Saturday, Professor Dumbledore was hosting an informal Memorial Service for Sirius Black at Hogwarts. Remus, of course, was devastated over his friend's death. Their mother insisted that Rowena attend the event, as a show of support for her brother. Never mind that Rowena had never liked Black and hadn't seen him in over twenty years. Never mind that Black had tried to commit a murder using Remus as the weapon. Never mind that she did not feel the least bit sorry that the git was dead. Remus was grieving. He needed his family.

With great reluctance, she agreed to attend.

- + - + - + - + - +

Severus Snape leaned over his cauldron, carefully counting clock-wise stirring motions. The potion he was working on, the Wolfsbane potion, was fiendishly complex and allowed no room for error. Yet, he had done it so often that the routine no longer required all of his concentration. The rest of his formidable intellect was free to indulge in rage and irritation.

Black's Memorial. Dumbledore had made it clear that he expected Severus to attend.

Bloody hell.

The only sorrow he had over Black's death was that it was Bellatrix and not himself who succeeded in bringing it about.

Perhaps that was going a little too far. He certainly had hated the git. Years ago he would have cheerfully and remorselessly killed him. But, in all honesty, he had tried to get Black to stay away from the Ministry that night. If the mongrel had listened, he would still be alive.

Still, even if Severus had long since stopped actively wishing for Black's death, he had never stopped loathing the man. Why should he pretend to be sorry he was dead? Why should he go to a service where his very presence would add to the pain and suffering of those who were genuinely grieving? Potter and Lupin, at the very least, would know he held no sorrow. Dumbledore, Tonks, Moody… countless others would as well.

Unfortunately, Albus' real reason for wanting him to attend could not be ignored. Pettigrew. Wormtail. The Rat. He could be anywhere… everywhere. There was virtually nowhere on the Hogwarts grounds outside the castle that they could completely secure against his sneaking, prying eyes. Even many places inside Hogwarts were vulnerable to the Rat. He would be reporting back to Voldemort.

Severus and Albus alone knew how dangerous Wormtail was to his dual role. One slip, where Wormtail could see, could cost his own life and the lives of many others. Severus had even gone so far as to actively seek out an animal familiar to aid in watching for this particular risk. The creature, which had bonded with him, was uniquely suited to this role, though it was not a creature commonly found among familiars.

The Dark Lord expected Severus to be his spy upon Dumbledore. If Severus deliberately absented himself from a gathering of this sort, Voldemort would be suspicious.

Distasteful as it was, he had relented at last. He did not relish the idea of adding to the sincere grief of others, regardless of his feelings for the departed, or those 'others' themselves. Cruel and sadistic by nature he may be, but even he knew the limits of common decency. However, there was no help for it. He would perform as expected.

With great reluctance, he agreed to attend.

The weather was more suitable to a picnic than a Memorial, clear and cheerfully sunny. The haze of the early morning sunshine promised a mid-July day. The house-elves and staff at Hogwarts had taken care to tastefully decorate the tables set out in a large ground-floor classroom. Numerous soft sofas and chairs were brought in and scattered about, so it was like entering an extra-large sitting room. Buffet tables against the wall would be constantly filled and refreshed.

Large sprays of flower baskets were arranged about the room. Gryffindor banners hung from the ceiling with black sashes diagonally across them. Enlarged photos of Sirius from happier days hung on the walls or stood propped on makeshift easels. There were even a few photos of him as the bear-like dog.

There would be no speeches, no fanfare. Instead it would just be a simple, informal gathering of friends—primarily members of the Order—to discuss and reminisce about the lost comrade.

Severus arrived early, after releasing his familiar to watch for the Rat. His hope was to find a shadowed corner and avoid notice of others. He quickly found a secluded chair, his back to the wall so he could scrutinise new arrivals suspiciously. Dark solitude seemed to enshroud him with familiar ease.

Albus and several of the other Hogwarts professors were already present, speaking to each other in low tones on one side of the room. The Headmaster noticed his entrance, but did not speak with Severus or attempt to draw him from his seclusion.

Lupin was among the first of the non-Hogwarts teachers to arrive. Surprisingly, he addressed Severus almost as soon as he spotted the other man.

"Severus—this is a surprise. Thanks for coming. I can imagine what it must have cost you to be here. It means a lot to me that you made the effort, in spite of everything."

"Lupin," his said warningly, "I am not here to offer condolences, or out of respect for the departed, as you well know. If I could spare us all the pain of my presence, I would gladly do so. You have no idea what it costs me to be here."

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. He looked older than his years by far, and this new grief had added to this air. "Severus… okay, you're right. I have no idea. I'm still grateful for the effort. For what it's worth, I appreciate your information and help where my sister is concerned."

Severus glared at him suspiciously, but Lupin was too honest by nature to be a very accomplished Occlumens, and Severus could detect no falsehood in him at present. After a moment, the scowl diminished slightly and he nodded his cool acknowledgement of the gratitude.

He would not touch the subject of the sister, however. There hadn't been enough passage of time, since he met with her on Dumbledore's orders, for him to feel he had regained his equilibrium where she was concerned. Nor were his own thoughts on the matter any of the bloody werewolf's business.

"Do everyone a favour, if you can, Lupin. Try to keep Potter from noticing my presence. We despise each other enough, without him thinking I am here to punish him further. The boy gives me plenty of fodder with which to torment him, I have no need to take advantage of his weakness or add to his pain."

Lupin gave him a pained grimace at this, and nodded as well. "I'll do what I can. He should be coming later. Moody's bringing him."

His tired face brightened somewhat, and he smiled slightly as he changed the topic back to his sister. Remus was either unaware of the Potions master's discomfort with the topic, or unwilling to let it drop.

"My mum informs me that Rowena plans to attend today. I'm sure that's mum's doing. My sister wouldn't come just to comfort me—at least, not without a great deal of pressure. I don't know how to patch things up with her. But I do know she'd much rather speak to you than to me. This gathering will only make everything worse for her, I think."

Snape sneered angrily. "I am also not here to mind your sister, Lupin, or to provide diversion for her so she can avoid you. Your problems with her are of your own devising. Leave me out of it."

Remus bristled angrily. "I was not implying that… I wasn't asking you to… Oh, hell, never mind. It makes me sick to think of her fancying you anyway! I don't know what she ever saw in you, but I sincerely hope she's gotten over it!" With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away.

Severus was irritated, though he couldn't exactly say why. Stubborn denial allowed him to continue to believe that Lupin's implications that his sister fancied him were all part of an elaborate joke. He was certain Black and Potter would have thought some sort of enormous humiliation with himself as the centerpiece would be an appropriate final tribute to any of their foursome. Perhaps Lupin, as the last remaining member, wanted to pay homage to that memory.

Most of the guests had not even arrived yet, and already he'd had enough. He decided that a walk of the grounds was in order, and left silently, unnoticed by any of the others.

As the morning had promised, the afternoon was hot and bright, though the sun was beginning its downward climb toward evening. Severus heard a series of splashes in the lake, which did not sound like the giant squid's usual antics. He walked cautiously toward the disturbance and saw a woman in black, a mass of loose, light-brown curls cascading down her back. She was throwing stones into the lake with great enthusiasm. A few she skipped across the surface. Most she threw with all the apparent might her small form and poor throwing technique could muster.

Rowena Lupin.

He amused himself for a short while in watching her, and then decided to announce his presence.

"I believe it will require a heavier missile to stun the giant squid. It has grown to be quite large," he said wryly.

She stopped mid-swing and straightened rigidly, but did not turn to look at him.

"Professor Snape. I did not expect to see you at this… event," she said in a brittle voice.

"Nor did I," he said darkly.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"Dumbledore," he said flatly.

"Ah. We all have obligations to fulfil then, don't we? Mine was my mum. She seemed to think my brother needed me." She snorted in disgust, and continued, "My brother stopped 'needing' me when I was eleven years old. Probably before then."

She was just about to throw another stone when two figures appeared on the path leading from the main gates towards the castle. The stone slipped, forgotten, out of her fingers and she breathed, "Merlin's beard!"

Severus looked to see what had caught her attention and understood at once. His voice was as sneering as his expression when she turned to look at him at last.

"Yes, that is The Boy Who Lived. Remarkably like his father, even at a distance, is he not? Moody was sent to fetch him. He is alternating, from what I have been told, between blaming himself for Sirius's death and blaming me."

He gestured to the far side of the lake where the paths were more wooded and therefore more concealed. "Would you care to walk with me, Miss Lupin? I doubt you would be interested in meeting the famous Harry Potter at this juncture, and I am certain more wishes than my own would be answered if I did not have to see him this day."

She nodded then, still not quite meeting his eyes. Her own were pink and puffy as though from crying, which she was strenuously trying to conceal. He began to walk away from the castle and the approaching guests.

He was startled again, and nearly jerked away as though burned, when he felt her hand take his arm—she had stumbled slightly as she picked her way over the rocky bank, and grabbed his arm to right herself. No doubt she was wearing some ridiculous variety of shoe-style which made the uneven ground treacherous. There was nothing in the gesture. It was quite casual. His thick shirt and robes easily covered his Dark Mark. Indeed, he never wore anything that was not securely buttoned, wrist to throat as though cloaking himself in a suit of armour.

But he was not accustomed to being touched so casually. Surreptitiously, he glanced sideways at her, but she was looking at the ground, apparently picking her way over the stones. She moved to drop her hand, but lost her footing again, causing him to instinctively tense the muscle of his arm to give her more support.

He decided to continue as though this was normal, her hand lightly looped through his arm. Bloody hell, it probably was normal. It appeared that she was only using his arm for support. Indeed, this seemed to be the case, as once they gained the more level path he had chosen, rather than the rock-strewn bank of the lake, she let go of his arm.

"What reason could he have for blaming you for Black's death?" she asked in a fragile-sounding voice. Her glance flitted about from trees to flowers to the path before them, but not at him. "From what I read in the papers and heard at the Ministry, it was Bellatrix who killed him. I didn't see any indication that you were there."

Severus frowned. There was too much in that story that she simply shouldn't know. He couldn't explain much without revealing his activities with the Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. Still, some explanation seemed in order.

"I knew where Potter was going when he left the school. Black happened to come in contact with me in regards to Potter's antics of the evening. If I had not told Black where the boy was going, he would not have known and not have been there to get killed. In my defence, I did try to get Black to stay away."

"Well, if Potter hadn't been messing about in stuff he shouldn't have, he wouldn't have been in trouble, and Black wouldn't have felt the need to go after him and pull him out of the fire, would he?" she asked in irritation. "What business did school children have at the Ministry?"

"Just so, which is why the other half of his anger is directed at himself, and more deservedly, in my opinion. However, I believe it is a normal part of the grieving process to be angry, is it not? Potter and I loathe each other. I do not deny it. It matters little if he directs his anger towards me. The boy is quite unbalanced. If he did not have a ready target for his anger, he could easily do something rash."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It's actually very kind of you to allow him to vent his anger at you like that without justification."

He gave a surprised, derisive laugh, in spite of himself. "Kind? I assure you, Miss Lupin, he has plenty of justification for his anger with me. You did hear me say I loathe the boy, did you not? He is the image and likeness of his father. I take sadistic delight in enraging him. It is one of my few great pleasures here. He is a student of this school, so I am honour bound to help keep him safe, in spite of the trouble he gets himself into. But I have no duty to like him, or to be 'kind' to him. Do not deceive yourself in that regard."

She smiled weakly at him and nodded again. "Understood. If he's really that much like James, you have plenty of reason to dislike him. I suppose that's why Remus likes him so much. It must be like having his 'brother' back."

She trailed off bitterly.

They walked in silence for several minutes along the shaded path. Rowena was grateful for the shade. Wearing long black dress robes in the hot sun on a warm day was not a comfortable thing. It was Severus, in the end, who broke the silence. His curiosity about this Lupin was gaining the better of him once again.

"I seem to recall you considering being an Auror for a career choice, or a Healer. How is it that you did not choose either of those?"

It was now her turn to look at him askance. She was surprised that he would recall so much about her from so long ago. That particular conversation had happened on the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of her second year of school. A small pool of happiness seemed to fill her, taking a little of the edge off her stress and sorrow of the day.

She sighed and shrugged. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I was never really brave enough for Auror work, even if I had done better in your Potions class. I'm too shy to be a Healer, and again Potions was a problem there. I doubt I could have passed the certification exams."

"Your problem with Potions was an unwillingness to trust your own instincts and allow for variability," he said, suddenly remembering the Muggle instruments she had tried to bring into his classroom to add precision where variation was crucial.

Her warm feeling of pleasure grew just a little more as she delighted in the knowledge that he remembered more of her than she had expected him to. He began his teaching career at Hogwarts in her seventh year of school—and she had been singularly unremarkable as a Potions student.

Pulling her mind away from the flight of fancy it immediately wanted to take, she brought herself back to the conversation at hand.

"I still do some work at the hospital fairly regularly. I volunteer mostly with the Children's Ward. I apprenticed every summer until I finished school, and for a few months afterward, because my dad wanted me to be a Healer so badly. I had almost earned my Level One Healer Certificate just with my hours put in then, though I'd have still had to pass the tests. In the end, I found I just couldn't deal with the death."

He noticed that she refused to meet his eyes as she said this, and suspected there was more to the story. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what the 'more' was.

"Forgive me if I pry into personal matters, Miss Lupin, but I had a bit of conversation with your brother before I came outside. He seemed rather anxious for you and I to become better acquainted. Considering my past history with your brother, you will understand when I say that such behaviour makes me highly suspicious. I wonder if you can account for this?"

They had reached a small, shaded copse of trees, and several benches were scattered pleasantly among them. She sat down—perhaps glad of a chance to take pressure off her feet—and twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. Her natural skin-tone was such that it might be able to conceal most blushes, but in the gentle light of the sun filtering through the leaves, the pink flush to her cheeks was unmistakable.

She nodded, but still wouldn't meet his eyes. It was long moments before she spoke. At last, she decided that only honesty would serve here. She faced him openly, though she still upheld her Occlumency, such as it was. It would at least be enough to help suppress much of her more fanciful thoughts, as his eyes seemed to pierce her, drawing out her secrets.

"Remus would be trying to further our acquaintance, because he probably thinks I would want it. As I told you when you asked about the photo in my flat, I fancied you in school. Remus knows that. It was really closer to an obsession.

"I've spoken to him as little as possible for the last twenty years. I don't know if he's told you why. I think he regrets it. I think he would like to mend things. Much of our argument has to do with our feelings about you—my fascination, and his dislike. I wouldn't be surprised if he thinks that by furthering my acquaintance with you, he and I might find a way to reconcile our differences."

She gave a small, bitter laugh and continued, "I wouldn't like to guess what he hopes to accomplish. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that he hopes you'll be a real prat towards me, so that I'll decide that he and his friends were right about you all along. He could then swoop in and do the whole comforting big-brother routine."

Severus observed and listened in silence, his face impassive, though his mind was whirling. He could detect no falsehood in her, yet he continued to be wary of the implications.

"He would be likely to succeed, if that is his intention. I have no doubt that you will soon find I am as unpleasant as your brother believes," he said dryly.

"What caused the rift in the first place? You behaved as strangers from the first moment on the train, before you met me."

She sighed and closed her eyes, remembering. "I was closer to Remus than to any other person in my life, before or since. I can't begin to explain to you how close we were. After he was infected, my parents isolated us completely. We had no one but each other. But when I came to school, he suddenly decided that he didn't want anyone to know we were related.

"I realised years later that it was because he was trying to protect me, in case anyone ever found out that he was a werewolf. All I knew at the time was that he rejected me when I needed him most."

She was now looking at the tuft of hair she was playing with in her hands, but her eyes were blinking unnaturally, and her voice was thick. He felt rather sorry that he had asked the question, but she seemed determined to answer, so he did not interrupt.

"Getting on the Hogwarts Express that first time was the scariest thing I had ever done in my life. I got on that train with more people than I had ever seen in one place at one time, and the only soul I knew was the brother who had abandoned me in my hour of need."

Severus snorted. "And you had the grave misfortune to find me as your first human contact outside of your family. Bloody hell, it's a testament to your courage that you didn't run screaming. I recall that train ride. I remember Lupin trying to get you to leave the compartment."

"Oh, yes!" And now her voice was angry, her eyes flashing. "My first taste of the amazing friends I had heard about for four years was to watch them ridicule and belittle the only person who had spoken to me! The amazing James Potter, whom all the girls loved, was a pompous git who tried to make himself look good by putting others down.

"What had you done to them? Even if it was something horrible, what cause did they have to call you on it in front of a stranger? And my brother, Remus the Prefect! He made no attempt to moderate their nastiness, then or any other time."

She was on a roll now, and had stopped playing with her hair to look at him with righteous anger as she ranted, her hands balled into fists in her lap. "That horrible day by the lake… he sat there with his nose in a book and pretended he didn't see what was going on. And when Black tried to kill you.…"

Her rage for the moment left her without the power of speech, but he did not interrupt. He only looked at her impassively, his face concealing the contrariety of emotions occurring within him.

"Do you know my brother is possibly the oldest living werewolf, who has been a werewolf for the longest period of time, who can honestly say that he has never bitten another human being? Remus would have been i devastated /i to have killed you, even to have infected you… yet he forgave Black as though it was a simple prank!"

Severus still didn't speak. Her rage couldn't be more than his, in regards to that particular episode. It was still a frequent nightmare of his, all these years later—though admittedly it was now among the milder of the daemons of his past—the memory of that slavering beast, lunging at him, as he stood rooted to the spot in icy horror.

Her eyes became distant again, her voice softer. "We almost made up, you know, after Warrington attacked me. Remus stayed with me night and day for a whole week. I even felt grateful to James and Sirius. Remus told me they beat him up…"

Severus snorted again. "Within an inch of his life, would be more accurate. One of the few things they did that I could agree with."

She smirked wryly in agreement and continued, "They watched out for me after that, all of them. Then I did the werewolf essay for my Defence class. I found out what he was. I could have forgiven even that. But not the murder attempt, now that I knew the truth of it. Not the choice that he consciously made to forgive Sirius as though it was nothing.

"I was hurt that he chose to allow his friends to know what he was, and have the chance to stand by him, but not me. He trusted them; he didn't trust me. Their good opinion and friendship mattered more to him than mine, or even than his own conscience and sense of right and wrong.

"I don't know that man in there. The brother I had and adored died when I was eleven years old. It's like grieving for him all over again each time I have to face that person in there. I don't know how to reconcile the two. I don't want to go in there and have to watch him grieve over Black like a brother."

Severus was uncomfortable with this whole conversation in the extreme. He did not like the idea that he was perhaps a significant cause of their disagreements. Certainly Lupin had made his own choices, but the incidents which seemed to seal his fate with his sister highly involved himself.

"Miss Lupin, far be it from me to offer you advice on such a thing. I do not believe in redemption or forgiveness; I do not believe in most of the softer emotions, if it comes to that. Yet, I have to admit concern that you seem to wish to place all blame upon your brother for the actions of his friends.

"Normally, I would not attempt to disabuse you of that notion. I dislike him greatly, and he is, after all, a monster.

"However, in a rare moment of fairness, I must say that Black and I hated each other long before you arrived here at Hogwarts. I am certain that he felt his attempt on my life was fully justified, as Potter surely felt about the incident here by the lake.

"Hold your brother responsible for his own actions, as you wish. I would advise you not to hold him responsible for the actions of the other two. I doubt anything he could have said or done would have tempered their behaviour in the least."

She gave him a small, sad smile, but her tone was an attempt at teasing. "Why, Professor Snape, two bits of friendly advice and now a rare moment of fairness? All directed toward me, in the course of two decades? I fear that I may be a bad influence on you."

He smirked at her with a raised brow, but she continued more seriously, "Remus chose to remain friends with them in spite of their actions; to me that's the same as condoning them. His guilt is equal to theirs."

"As you wish, Miss Lupin," he added in a lighter tone himself. "You need not fear for my reputation as an evil bastard. I assure you that my Dark deeds so far outweigh any moments of relative decency, as to leave my reputation quite secure."

She laughed then, a light sound that lifted the mood as well. "Maybe you fool others into believing that. Not me."

They were both silent for a moment. He was surprised and uncomfortable at her declaration, and she was trying to formulate a question to which she had longed to know the answer for many years.

"What did you do to Warrington?" she blurted out at last.

He looked at her very seriously and shook his head lightly.

"Miss Lupin," he said gravely, "you absolutely must not construe that act as any noble deed based upon chivalry or any other virtuous sensation. I do not condone what Warrington tried to do, but I am also not one to go out and exact vengeance upon perpetrators of such unpleasantness.

"What Warrington did shamed Slytherin House, because he got caught. Had he not been caught, had it even been a matter of your word against his, he would have gone unpunished. That he was a monster, I will not deny. In truth, he is more of a genuine monster than the werewolf. He deserved both what your brother's friends did to him, and what I did—but what I did was not motivated by any benevolent reason."

"Understood," she said simply. "I would still like to know what you did."

He smiled quite unpleasantly, then. It was a rather dark thing that gave her a slight chill, not unlike the wicked smile he had given her once before, when he had tried to entice her with a dangerous book on Dark Magic. His rich baritone voice was silky, and he seemed rather fond of the memory, in spite of his previous disclaimer.

"I waited until they had healed him at St. Mungo's. He was there for two weeks. When he was well, and fully conscious, Lucius and I went for a visit. Lucius was my lookout. I used a paralyzing charm on him, and castrated him. Slowly. With a fairly dull knife. I gave him a nice little potion beforehand, to ensure that he would not lose consciousness."

He shrugged. "It was merely a gesture, of course. St. Mungo's can regenerate all sorts of injuries like that without difficulty, as you know. No permanent physical damage was done. But I assure you, he remembers every moment of it to this day."

He expected her to be shocked or horrified that he was capable of such a thing. Instead she looked satisfied and approving, a grim look in her eyes that could have matched the one in his. She nodded. "That seems appropriate."

"Indeed."

He suddenly received a vague but urgent impression from his familiar. The Rat was somewhere on the grounds. Not near them, currently, but outside here somewhere. He stood briskly and offered her his hand.

"I believe it is time that we make an appearance at this event, lest we offend everyone by our absence more than with our presence. Perhaps you would care to accompany me?"

The question was out before he considered it, but he was not sorry he asked. She took his offered hand and stood. Her small, warm hand in his felt electrifying. For a moment she was standing close enough that he could smell the pleasant fragrance she wore, something floral but light. She looked at him, unguarded for an instant, and he unashamedly took advantage to stare into her eyes. He saw her spark of fascination there for him, and something caught within his chest.

Whatever of her 'teenaged crush' had faded over the last twenty years, enough still remained that she wanted to be with him now. It was an odd mixture of distrust, nervousness, curiosity, and his newly budding interest in her that swirled around inside him. Not unpleasant, but definitely unfamiliar. She was dangerous, this woman.

She smiled shyly at him, blushing pink, and nodded. "I would like that, Professor."

He tucked her hand deliberately into the crook of his arm, and she did not pull it away. He gave a small noise of impatience. "Miss Lupin, I am hardly your professor any longer. Is it your desire to make me feel old? I would not object to you calling me by my given name."

Her hand seemed to tremble against his arm, and when he glanced at her she was still blushing. What an unusual creature she was! He smirked at her silence and teased dryly, "Unless, perhaps, you do not recall my name?"

"I know your name… Severus." Her voice was soft. He had never heard his own name spoken in quite that way… he would have almost called it reverent.

He was not far off in that thought. She loved his name. The silky, sibilant sound of it as it glided off of her tongue. Severus. Severus. Severus. How often, how many millions of times had she said it, sometimes chanting it like a mantra as a child, or even in adulthood when she was especially wishing for news of him, as though by merely saying his name she could wish him into her life.

She chided herself mentally. "Get a grip, Rowena Danae! He only invited you to accompany him to an event you both happen to be attending, and to use his given name. This is not a declaration of love, or even interest, you foolish girl!"

Her voice was stronger and more confident, as she continued aloud, "Then you must call me Rowena. Merlin knows the name 'Lupin' is nearly as distasteful to me as it must be to you."

He moved his arm momentarily tighter against his side, so that he was squeezing her hand ever so slightly in acknowledgement. "Very well, Rowena. Though I do not imagine the name 'Lupin' is so distasteful to you, or else you would have abandoned it long ago."

She looked at him challengingly, and said, slightly aggressively, "What, precisely, do you mean by that?"

He appeared surprised at her tone and shrugged. "I meant no offence. I am quite aware of how these things work. Surely your parents could have found you a suitable match, even considering your bloodlines?"

She laughed again, the light sound almost a giggle. "Am I a brood mare, then, to be sold by my father to the highest bidder with the most suitable bloodline?"

He frowned at her and then shook his head.

"This, apparently, is something only certain of the pureblood families do. I move in different circles of acquaintances than you, Rowena. I know no pureblood married couple, except perhaps the Weasleys—and even that is a guess on my part—whose marriage was not purely an arranged affair by their parents."

She seemed to be surprised, but not offended, only interested. "Really? I didn't think anyone did that anymore. What if they don't like each other?"

He scoffed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Don't you think people who are married should at least like each other?" she asked with a laugh.

He shrugged. "I honestly have not had the desire or occasion to give it much thought."

"Well, why aren't you married?" She recalled the rumors her father had told her, years ago, about Devin Snape. Rowena had thought at the time that the man must have been Severus' father, but she wasn't certain. "Your parents didn't like each other? They didn't arrange something for you?"

His muscles tensed slightly under her hand, and she drew a fearful breath, concerned that she had offended him somehow. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, anxiously. "Never mind, I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious."

He shook his head, more disturbed now that he had betrayed enough emotion for her to read him so quickly—he prided himself on his inscrutability.

"No, Rowena, it was a fair question. My parents are dead. My mother died the year I came to Hogwarts, my father the year I finished. My parents hated each other. I doubt not, though, that had he lived, my father would have paired me with an appropriate match, or disinherited me had I refused.

"As it is, I am the bane of the pureblood wizarding community. I am an eligible bachelor—which means nothing more or less than that I am pureblood and landed. It also doesn't matter that the property in question is little more than a derelict ruin.

"I am considered quite the catch in certain circles. That is a surprise, is it not? I have barely adult aged girls all the way through to forty-plus women trying to prostitute themselves to me in exchange for my name and my bloodline. I find it incredibly repulsive.

"If not for that, I would be of no interest to any of them. I have no illusions about who or what I am. I do, however, have enough self respect to refuse to be the prize of the 'highest bidder', as you say."

They had reached the castle doors, and he held the door for her. He stopped a moment before they entered, his face a closed mask.

"Rowena, I am the least welcome person here. I would not blame you if you wish to choose another companion. No one inside doubts my genuine loathing of Sirius Black, nor should they. My presence will be like a fresh knife to their grief. I will possibly be the target for unpleasantness. Grief often manifests in anger. You do not need to be exposed to that."

She bristled visibly, but tightened her grip on his arm. "Hasn't my sad tale of my brother taught you anything about me? I don't appreciate being protected by being pushed away. If you don't want me to accompany you, fine, but don't make false excuses. I wouldn't have accepted if I didn't want to be with you."

He couldn't help but offer an amused smile at her spirit. He nodded. "I would be pleased with your company. I just wanted you to know what you might be facing. Potter, especially, is likely to be distressed if he sees me."

"Well then, let's sit by ourselves somewhere so he doesn't have to see you much."

They did just that. The chairs and sofas were set up in such a way that many small groups could converse, just as easily as larger ones. Rowena saw the Potter boy with a bushy-haired girl Severus informed her was Hermione Granger, and also with one of the Weasley boys. Everyone—Moody, Dumbledore, Mrs Weasley, Remus, and even Severus—often looked at Harry with expressions of deep concern. Harry's eyes were red-rimmed, and he rubbed at them often. Remus was hardly less emotional, and they often stood together in sad silence.

Rowena and Severus tried mostly to stay out of the way. Harry kept casting scowling glances at Severus that were eerily reminiscent of James. At one point Remus came over to where they were sitting and introduced Harry to Rowena. The young man was polite, but subdued.

"Remus says you knew my dad… and Sirius," he said sullenly.

"Yes, I did. They were older than me, so I didn't know them very well. Once, though, your dad and Sirius beat up a boy who tried to assault me. If they hadn't showed up when they did, well, who knows what would have happened," Rowena said gently. She had decided to find something nice to say to the boy about his lost loved-ones, and that was the only thing she could think of.

Harry seemed to appreciate it, and actually smiled slightly at her, which brightened his face. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she said, smiling back.

"Their finest hour," Severus added with a bored air. Harry glared savagely at him before turning to walk away.

Severus and Rowena talked very little to anyone else after that. Both of them felt highly uncomfortable in this group of grieving people, when they themselves felt no grief.

The conversation wafted over them, though, and they had to listen to the reminiscing over many of the Marauder's adventures. Rowena and Severus conversed only lightly, usually to roll their eyes and discuss the alternate view of the stories they were hearing. Rowena was surprised to hear of some of the goings-on in the years before she came to Hogwarts, but it wasn't much different from what she had seen herself once she arrived.

Towards the end of the evening, Harry began asking questions about Sirius and his parents, which Remus answered, with the help of others to fill in the gaps. Suddenly Remus' voice trailed off, brokenly. Rowena glanced over at the table where they were sitting. Remus had buried his face in his hands, clearly overcome with grief. Rowena's mother sat next to him, rubbing his back gently and trying to comfort him. Molly seemed to be doing the same for Harry, who sat on Remus' other side.

Rowena looked up at Severus, her face an unguarded mask of sorrow and misery. She knew the pain Remus was feeling—it was the same pain she had felt when she had lost him, when he had rejected her. She set her teacup down and moved to rise. Severus suspected she was going to go to her brother and offer her comfort as well.

But then, Remus's broken voice was heard again, and she froze, listening. "The last of my brothers is dead. I didn't know I could feel so alone."

Severus watched Rowena, as her face went from compassion to anger and her own grief. She met his eyes again and he saw a flash of her own hatred for Sirius, and fresh pain at her brother's betrayal. Opening her mouth wordlessly for a moment, she shook her head, swallowed hard, and then found her voice.

"I need to go outside for a bit," she said in strangled tones.

In an instant she fled the room. Severus stood to follow her, and saw Remus looking at him from across the room, his attention caught by Rowena's sudden departure. They met each other's eyes, black ones glaring, brown ones still pained.

Snape sneered. "Good show, Lupin. You rejected her again, in favor of a dead man. I doubt even I could top that for cruelty. Do you follow her before the Death Eaters find her, or do I? Pettigrew is somewhere out there as we speak."

Remus paled and ran quickly out of the room after her. Severus hesitated a moment, but then followed. Pettigrew was indeed out there, and from the impressions he was receiving from his familiar, the Rat was tailing her already.

She was walking briskly across the lawns towards the gates to Hogsmeade. Remus was following her at a sprint. She was in plain sight, and Wormtail was not, having detoured away from the area due to the presence of a predatory creature. Severus slowed his pace to allow the siblings their conversation in semi-privacy.

"Rowena, wait!" Remus called after her.

To the surprise of both men, she stopped and turned. Tears were running down her face, but she held her chin proudly as she turned to her brother. Again, in the soft light of dusk, Severus was struck by their resemblance. How had he not realised they were siblings in school?

"I am going home, Remus. I am sorry for your loss," she said thickly, and then her voice broke, so that her next words were difficult to understand between stifled sobs. "I know first-hand the pain of losing a brother. You have my deepest sympathies."

"Rowena… honey… 'Wena, please… don't be like this," he reached a gentle hand out to stroke the tears away from her face. "I'm so sorry. I can't change my past decisions. I never meant to hurt you. I thought I was keeping you safe. You are my sister… I love you. I don't want us to be like this anymore. I miss you. Can't we fix this? Can't you forgive me?"

She did not move away when he touched her, but she did not soften towards him, either. "I don't know how, Remus. You abandoned me when I needed you most. I don't know how to trust you again, or how to stop being hurt and angry. Maybe it will just take time. Right now, I really don't want to talk to you anymore today."

He sighed. "Let me at least take you home. You shouldn't be by yourself. It's not safe."

"I'm only walking to Hogsmeade to Apparate home. I hardly need an escort. You have friends inside. It seems to me that Potter is grieving particularly hard. He needs you. I don't."

"Let me get someone else to walk with you if you can't stand to be with me," he said, more urgently. "Please. Alastor or Kingsley would do it. It's really not safe for anyone to be alone right now, honestly."

Severus had continued walking toward them, slowly, and now decided to make his presence known. He thought he could detect a hint of stubborn defiance in the set of her jaw, which suggested to him that she was about to leave, alone. With Pettigrew on the prowl, it really wasn't safe for her to travel unescorted, even that short distance.

"I will take her home, Lupin. Get back inside and rejoin your pity-party," he said sarcastically.

Remus rounded on him, scowling. His sorrow at hurting his sister and grief at the still-raw death of his friend had worn his temper to a very short fuse. "I didn't think this discussion included you, Severus. Why should I trust you to take her home?"

But Severus had had enough of this as well. Listening to an entire room full of people canonise the 'late-great-Black' for hours on end, as though he had been some sort of super-hero, had grated on his nerves.

"Because, Lupin," he said with a sneering drawl, "thanks entirely to your own actions, your beloved sister would far prefer my companionship to yours."

Severus stepped forward so he was almost toe to toe with the other man, glaring savagely. He savoured every word vindictively. "That must really eat at you, doesn't it, Lupin? You must now rely on me to assure her safety? And you have no one but yourself to blame."

He would have continued. He longed to make some comment on how sweet the revenge was, that it was Lupin's own sister who was allowing Severus to achieve some small vengeance upon him. But just then a soft hand gently touched his arm, and he looked down into large, tear-bright eyes.

"Don't—Severus… please don't," she said imploringly. "Will you walk me home now?"

He realised then that he could not hurt Remus Lupin without hurting her as well. Perhaps the vengeance would not be so complete, after all. It certainly felt less urgent to extract revenge than to see her safely home. Unconsciously, he gently placed his free hand over the fingers she had tucked through his arm. He nodded to her and turned back to Remus.

"Goodnight, Lupin," he said decisively.

Rowena slipped her hand out of his arm again, and to the surprise of both men, she briefly went to Remus and hugged him. Her brother pulled her into a crushing embrace. For a moment their identically coloured hair blended one head to the next so that, if not for the graying streaks in his, it might have been hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Then she stepped away and looked at him.

"I am sorry for your loss, Remus."

Turning back to Severus, she took his arm more firmly than she had before, and they began to walk away. Remus didn't say anything more, and she didn't look back. He watched her leave, though, with more hopefulness that they might mend their rift than he had held in many years. There was also a grudging sense of happiness for her. She really had liked Severus all those years ago—a sensation which apparently hadn't faded in the intervening ones. Snape was already displaying more kindness and concern toward her than Remus had ever seen him have for anyone else.

Once they reached her flat, Severus accompanied her inside. He watched her perform her search, but noticed she did not seem quite as panicked as she was the first time he had observed the ritual.

He waited for her to finish. When she had returned, he raised a questioning brow. She gave him a small, sad smile and shrugged.

"After you were here the last time, I decided that I needed to find a different method to help me not be afraid of my own flat. So, I went to Diagon Alley and got a familiar. It took all afternoon to find the right one. I didn't realise it was such a process. It was worse than buying my wand.

"Anyway, she has the run of my flat. I know through our connection that no one is here.

"I still do the search, but it's more habit than anything else. I would introduce you to her… I named her Vixen… but she's nervous around strangers. She's hiding under my bed," she said, rambling on in a voice that was just this side of controlled hysteria.

He was on the point of asking what sort of creature her familiar was, when he caught the tone of her voice and realised she was fighting valiantly not to weep. Her eyes were over-bright and she was blinking rapidly.

He was completely out of his element—he had no skill in being a 'comforting presence' to another human being!

"Rowena, will you be all right? Should I make you some tea or a Dreamless Sleep potion?"

She shook her head and tried to smile again, but the tears started to flow and it was more a pained grimace. "No, Severus. I'm okay. I think I would rather just be alone now."

He looked at her doubtfully, and led her to the couch where she sat down heavily. "I do not think you should be alone. I will stay until you are able to rest."

She summoned her handkerchief and cried, too overwhelmed with emotion to argue with him. Severus, in the need to do something, searched her kitchen for some basic potion ingredients and brewed in silence, watching her apprehensively. When at last she had stopped crying, he brought her a small cup, which was steaming gently.

She looked up at him, embarrassed, and dried her face. "I'm sorry. I think I just forgot until tonight how close we used to be, how much it hurt to have him reject me, and how much I still miss him, even after everything."

"Do not apologise. Prepare for bed and then drink this—it isn't quite a Dreamless Sleep potion; you have no Asphodel," he said in matter-of-fact tones that were almost scolding, as though he could not believe a wizarding home would have no Asphodel. "It will help you sleep nonetheless."

She went into her room and changed into her pajamas—long plum-colored satin robes that were loose, flowing, and very modest. She came back out and drank the potion, obediently. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

It was an odd sensation to be thanked so sincerely for doing such a simple thing. He merely nodded. "I will leave you now. The potion will act quickly, you should go straight to bed."

"I will. Goodnight, Severus. Thank you. It was much easier to get through today than I had expected. I was very glad for your company."

"It was no hardship, Rowena. Goodnight."

With a loud 'crack' of Apparition, he was gone.