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.

Chapter 4: New Daily Routines

Nearly a month had passed, and Rowena had quickly fallen into a pleasant routine. She was no longer the last person to leave her lab at the Ministry. When her time was over she eagerly Apparated home, grabbed a bite of supper, and then Portkeyed to her Hogwarts lab. Albus even insisted on paying her for her time there, which felt like robbery to her. For the first time in her memory, she had full freedom in her research, and she felt like a child in a sweet shop.

She continued her volunteer work at St. Mungo's, but found that she was now always accompanied on her visits. It was apparent to her that Dumbledore had assigned people to guard her, without wanting her to realise she was being guarded. Sometimes it was Minerva, occasionally Filius, and once it was even Albus himself. Most frequently, Mrs Weasley came with her. Molly seemed to find that she enjoyed it almost as much as Rowena did, now that her own children were nearly grown.

Rowena was accustomed to going to St. Mungo's several times a week, but she felt as though she was pulling her escorts from more important duties, so she gradually forced herself to cut back to only Saturdays. She couldn't bear to give up the work entirely.

On a personal level, her social life had always been nearly non-existent. It seemed to go in phases, and currently she seemed to be experiencing a suspicious burst of popularity. A young man named Orion Blaize was currently courting her attentions, and she had consented to go out with him a few times. She was wary—he had been introduced to her by Narcissa Malfoy, which immediately made his intentions suspect.

However, he was pleasant and polite, and she was not a total recluse. She was careful to only meet with him in very public places, so the occasional diversion of dinner, dancing or a visit to the theater was enjoyable enough—or at least not unwelcome. Unfortunately, she was far more naïve than she liked to believe herself to be, so she was completely oblivious to the disguised (or often invisible) Order members who observed and protected her on these occasions as well. Often Severus was the guard, much to his distaste.

He was irritated with himself for feeling what could only be considered jealousy. Blaize was two years younger than he, and considered handsome by Narcissa and Bellatrix. He was tall, muscularly built, had perfect teeth displayed to advantage when he smiled, which he did easily and often, and had an easy-going temperament. Of course, he was also a Death Eater.

Severus' jaw ached from clenching it so tightly when he watched them dance, though he didn't fail to notice that she kept a significant distance between them for even the slowest of dances. Still, she seemed relaxed, smiling and laughing with Blaize as they conversed, and Severus found himself wishing to smash the other man's perfect nose.

Severus had kept his distance from her since the night of Black's memorial. He occasionally stopped by her lab to inquire if she needed anything, or to bring notes and spells for her to research—often at Albus' request, the cagey old Meddler!

They didn't play chess again, or even converse on anything but work-related topics. He reverted to calling her 'Miss Lupin', and so she addressed him in kind. It was as though he was trying to avoid anything like friendship with her.

She was gradually forming new opinions of him, replacing childhood fantasies and silliness with honest assessments. And yet she couldn't really find that there were often any conflicts between the two.

His taste in background music complimented hers—she could hear it through the adjoining door slightly, even when it was closed. Occasionally she wouldn't even turn hers on, to listen to his, and suspected that he sometimes did the same. A Silencing Charm over the door would have prevented any sound from passing between the labs, of course. However, she did not use one and neither did he.

She didn't know why he didn't, but she found the muffled noises of him moving about in his lab companionable and comforting. It gave her the sensation of isolation and privacy as she worked, yet prevented her from feeling lonely. She was quite content.

A knock on her lab door roused her from some particularly complex equations, which she set aside with a sigh.

"Come in."

It was Severus, and he had a small stack of papers in his hand.

"Albus sent me with these; they are more Dark spells from some of his Auror contacts. Ones that Fudge won't send to your lab at the Ministry—he doesn't wish to cause 'panic' that these spells exist. He would much rather allow them to exist unhindered and secret," he said sardonically, and Rowena rolled her eyes knowingly.

"Yes, that sounds like the pompous windbag I've come to know and despise," she said with a wry smile. She took the papers and began to glance through them. Some of the names were quite frightful indeed. 'Disemboweling Hex', 'Flaying Charm', and 'Lava Curse', just to name a few.

She went to the wall of rat cages and brought a full one out to her worktable.

"Do you have time to help me for a few minutes?" she asked distractedly, still reading through the notes. "Would you show me these spells? It helps a great deal if I can see them performed properly. It speeds my research to understand them more fully. I'll figure it out eventually from the notes, but it would be easier to see them demonstrated."

Severus frowned warily at her, instantly on his guard. He didn't know quite how to take the question. Legally, he should not know how to perform these. The only reason he would know them is if he were a Death Eater, or if he had been exposed to their effects himself, as an Auror might be. He did not know what she knew about his past or present, and was loath to give away his position.

"Why would I know how to perform these spells, Miss Lupin? I think perhaps you are either insulting me or complimenting me. It is likely I deserve neither," he said with a sneer.

She gave him an exasperated look and pulled out her wand. At first he thought she might be intending to try the spells herself—very unwise, as it would leave record of their casting in her wand, the legalities of which would be questionable even for 'research' purposes. But then, to his surprise, she laid her wand on the table and withdrew another from her sleeve.

"Would you like to use my Dark wand, Professor, or would you prefer your own? Surely you don't think I practice my research spells with a traceable wand, do you?

"Does it make things easier for you if I tell you that I have known for years that you were a Death Eater, and turned spy for Dumbledore before Harry Potter was born?"

He moved forward menacingly and towered over her, attempting to intimidate her by aggressively invading her personal space. Glaring down at her, he purposefully emphasised the height difference. His voice was harsh and angry, and his scowl was truly frightful.

"No, Miss Lupin. That makes things altogether more difficult. What makes you think that I was a Death Eater? If you really believe that, how could you possibly imagine that I no longer am one? No one leaves the Dark Lord's service alive, surely you know that?"

She did not flinch, though the sudden animosity radiated from him like heat from a fire. Tilting her head back at an uncomfortable angle, she refused to drop his gaze or allow him to intimidate her. Her heart was pounding madly inside her chest, which made it far more challenging to maintain her Occlumency, but she was determined not to back down.

"You forget, Professor, that I was in school with you," she said determinedly. "You offered me that book in my second year. I worked with my dad every summer and saw lots of Death Eaters and their victims. I treated Wilkes the summer before my seventh year. He all but told me you were Death Eater, and showed me his own Dark Mark. So, years ago, I had a strong suspicion that you had joined them."

He continued to glare down at her angrily, but said nothing. It was as though the pitiless black eyes were drawing the truth from her—truth she would have told him willingly in any case. She swallowed nervously, but forced herself to continue.

"I was able to find out about Dumbledore's testimony on your behalf, from contacts at the Ministry," she said, swallowing nervously. She didn't want to betray Elizabeth's confidence even all these years later.

"Dumbledore said you turned spy back then. Logically, it would follow that you would have stepped into that role again now—I think it would be very useful, and Dumbledore doesn't seem to be the kind of person to give up a useful tool," she said, somewhat bitterly.

It didn't take the sudden wavering of her Occlumency to reveal that she didn't particularly agree with the Headmaster's methods—or at least what she thought she knew of them.

"I never thought you were really one of them before," she said quietly, "so it was no great difficulty for me to believe you'd left them."

She couldn't do it. He had not moved a muscle or betrayed any reaction to what she said, but it was impossible for her to continue to stare up into those eyes. She turned back to the notes, using them as an excuse to turn away from him—in a manner that she hoped seemed casual rather than retreating.

"Now, then. If we're done rehashing your past, which seems to have no real bearing on the issue at hand, I would like to get to work. Because of your experience, it's logical for me to assume you know how to perform these spells. If you would be so kind as to demonstrate them?"

He was even angrier now, and grabbed her arm harshly, forcing her to turn back around to face him. A faint shudder passed through her, though it was less from fear than from the strange warmth that washed over her at his proximity, towering rage notwithstanding.

His voice was a dangerously smooth, even though he was plainly furious. "What do you know of the matter, Miss Lupin? Do you fancy me redeemed? You never thought I was one of them in truth? You couldn't be more wrong."

He thrust her away from him, causing her to stumble against her workbench. "I thought you were more rational than that. I've never heard of anything more ridiculous! Few people believe what you seem to take on faith from mere hearsay and rumour. Only Dumbledore believes me wholly reformed, and he is a hopeless idealist. The rest view me as a dangerous ally who could turn on them at any moment when it appears to my best advantage to do so. You would do well to be wary of me!"

With that, he pulled his wand and began carelessly and effortlessly performing the hexes and curses listed in the notes. He did them with the practiced ease and grace of familiarity, one after the other without pause.

He had avoided looking at her since he had thrust her away. After several long minutes of slaughtering the lab rats in his angry demonstration, he risked a sideways glance. He expected to see her shocked or horrified at this display of the Dark spells, and the callous cruelty that was their nature—or the ease in which he wielded them. Instead, she was calmly seated near the desk, rapidly scribbling notes on a clipboard. She looked up at him when he stopped his display.

"Are you feeling better now?" she asked, as though he was a child who had just completed a tantrum. "You can save your 'I'm an evil demon' act for my brother and Alastor Moody. They might believe it. I don't. Rational or not, I trust my own intuition on this matter, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind. I am not afraid of you."

He sneered at her, but inwardly he was disturbed greatly by this display of misplaced confidence. "Then you are far more naïve than I had previously surmised—an impressive accomplishment. I would not have thought you to practise willful self-deception, Lupin, but suit yourself.

"You were terrified to rely upon your instincts when it was a simple matter of variable potions ingredients, yet you insist upon doing so in this instance, with far less data to support your hypothesis. This is most unwise. You have been warned. Good day." He turned on his heel and left with an angry swish of robes.

On Thursday evening, Rowena forgot a reference book in her Ministry lab, which she wanted at Hogwarts. After eating supper in her flat, she Apparated back to the Ministry.

This variation in her new routine caused her to find dark-cloaked, white-masked figures in the lab, tearing it to bits, with explosions going off everywhere as the intruders tried to break the wards on her cabinets and drawers. Her gasp of terror caused them to whirl around and level wands at her with a variety of curses and hexes. Fortunately, she had already reached her disk and Portkeyed to her lab at Hogwarts, just as she was losing consciousness.

She woke in soft, unfamiliar bed, in an equally unfamiliar, brightly-lit room, with shadowy figures all around her. Blinking against the fresh pain in her head caused by the lighting, she tried to sit up.

A firm but surprisingly gentle hand pressed upon her shoulder, and a familiar deep voice spoke. "Do not try to rise, Miss Lupin. You have sustained a concussion and some rather serious injuries. You are safe here."

Her eyes gradually regained focus to see Severus peering down at her. His piercing gaze and the pain in her head made her realise that she was not up to any standard of Occlumency. She quickly looked away.

Instead she found Albus Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and her brother hovering about. Albus was smiling in his cheerfully calm manner, while Pomfrey bustled here and there with anxious energy. Remus appeared both angry and worried.

"What happened?" Her voice sounded far off and strange, as though her ears had been stuffed with cotton.

"Death Eaters raided your lab. Somehow, we weren't informed of the raid, and couldn't warn you. You could have been killed! Our information gathering methods seem to be flawed," said Remus, sarcasm and bitterness heavy in every word. Obviously he blamed Severus for the attack. Anger and sarcasm did not suit the more mild-mannered of the two Lupins. His friends might not have recognised him if they saw him at that moment.

"Remus, get out," she said wearily.

"No," he replied firmly.

"Remus, get out now. I mean it. I can't deal with you right now." Her head had started to pound, but she wasn't willing to give an inch on this. She was unwilling to listen to Remus dig at Severus, certain that at any moment Severus would be goaded into sniping back.

Surprisingly, Severus moved toward the door instead. "No, Miss Lupin. You should have your family present. I believe your parents are on their way." He scowled darkly at Remus before returning his gaze to her.

He didn't know why it mattered to him. After all, a few days ago he had tried very hard to convince her that he was not 'reformed' in any sense. However, he didn't want her opinion of him tarnished in this way—or for her to believe he would have deliberately allowed something like this.

"I had no knowledge of this attempt on your lab, though it does not surprise me. I believe they expected it to be empty so they would have time to search thoroughly."

She nodded at him in apparent acceptance of the information, though the movement made her wince. He was satisfied, and made a very slight bow before turning to leave.

Albus spoke up then. "Wait, Severus. We need to organise the party that will go and salvage what we can from her lab and flat. It is likely they will try there next, Rowena. We will be giving you lodgings here at Hogwarts. We can speak of that when you are well. Right now, I need you to tell us what we should try to salvage, and the counter charms to get to the material."

He smiled merrily in spite of the gravity of the situation, and his eyes twinkled. "It seems that the thieves were completely unsuccessful in their raid. Your approach aborted their search, and your numerous protections were quite effective. I will send Remus and Severus as part of the salvage team."

"No!" Rowena said, nearly frantic. "Not Professor Snape—not my flat. Let Remus go. My friend Elizabeth. My mother. Mrs Weasley." She was blushing deeply, and Dumbledore looked at her knowingly.

Severus was on the point of working himself up to be angry that she didn't trust him, or perhaps force himself to be glad that she had finally decided not to trust him, when he remembered the photo in her flat with his picture in it. Was it possible there were others? He was newly unsettled at the idea that he had been some sort of object of fascination to this woman, but decided now was not the time to explore the subject.

"Of course, Rowena," said Albus. "I'll ask Molly to come and see you, when your mother arrives. I would like you to be attended while you are here. Madam Pomfrey is an excellent Matron, but she is a non-combatant. I don't expect danger in our own hospital wing, but I can't be certain."

"I'll stay with her," said Remus.

"No. If you stay, I'm leaving, if I have to crawl out of here on my hands and knees," she said stubbornly. "I am not in the mood to deal with you right now, Remus. Another time, maybe, but not now. I don't want you here."

Severus looked between the two scowling Lupins, and then silently sat down in a chair near the bed. He conjured a large book, which he immediately began to read. It required a great deal of self-restraint not to cast a gloating smirk at the werewolf. For whatever reason, his beloved little sister preferred his, Severus', presence at her bedside to his own.

"No way! I'm not leaving her alone with him," Remus said again, realising at once what Snape intended. "Albus, you trust him, so I trust him… but not this far! If he'd been doing his job properly, she wouldn't be here! You don't understand…."

"Remus, I understand a vast deal more than you know. At present, I understand Rowena is a grown adult who has been injured, and should not be unduly stressed. She has requested you leave, and I have things to do as well. I'm sure Severus can provide for her safety, and he is not prone to chat, so she will get the rest she needs. Come now, time to go."

Rowena and Severus both snorted at the thought of Severus being 'prone to chat', and then met each other's eyes with similar wry glances. Remus allowed himself to be angrily led out the door, with one more threatening glare cast at Snape. Then the door closed, and they were gone.

"What really happened?" she asked at once.

"I am not supposed to 'chat', Miss Lupin," Severus stated, dryly.

"How many were there? I only saw three. What happened to my lab?" she persisted.

He sighed, closing his book with a finger holding his page. She obviously would not rest until she had answers, so he summarised as briefly as he could.

"Three is enough, you were lucky to reach your Portkey alive. You apparently experienced first-hand some of the curses I brought to you last week, including the Flaying Charm. Madam Pomfrey has restored the skin to your arm quite well, though I suggested the use of dittany. It appears to have been effective, you should have no scarring from that particular curse. You lost a lot of blood, however, and have an admirable concussion. You will be consuming a variety of my potions for the next several days at least.

"As Albus said, nothing of value seems to have been stolen. However, it will not be safe for you to return there. And, I believe, you will have to end your dalliance with Orion Blaize." He refused to examine the reason behind his sense of satisfaction with the last statement.

She snorted humourlessly, though she groaned in pain at the effort. Her abdomen was sore as though she had experienced major surgery.

"Oh yes," he added, "the Disemboweling Hex was used as well, though not to complete effect. You are quite fortunate to be here."

His thoughts trailed off to uncomfortable recollections. He had heard the soft sound of her falling to the floor when she arrived at her lab. Not that he had been listening intentionally for her, of course.

Her rational and analytical nature led her to be quite predictable in her routines, so his curiosity had been roused when she was late. It was merely the natural concern of one intellectual person not wanting to lose the talents and skills of another. There was nothing more to it than that. Or so he heroically strove to convince himself.

Somehow, though, as Poppy worked on her, his mind had traveled the circuitous path of 'what if'.

What if he had been listening to music at that moment and had not heard her arrival? It was fortunate that he had decided he was not in the mood to listen to anything.

What if he had not been in his own lab at the time? It was quite serendipitous that he had work he needed to do.

What if he had not found her? It was a stroke of good luck that the adjoining door between their labs was, for some reason, slightly ajar.

He had been stunned to see her there on the floor—pale, covered in blood, barely breathing.

A series of fortunate chances allowed him to be in the right place at the right time. He had not been worried about her. He had not been deliberately listening for her.

Eventually, he would believe the lie himself.

Surprisingly, the thing that upset her the most, which she responded to with the most vehemence, was the thing that concerned him the least in the matter.

"I am not engaging in a 'dalliance' with anyone, least of all Blaize." She turned to her side so she could face him, awkwardly leaning her chin on one arm. "He is merely one more in a long line of 'nice young men' that Narcissa Malfoy insists on throwing my way. She's trying to get me to research some very questionable spells for her, and seems to think that by introducing me to her brand of 'acceptable suitors', she can soften me up.

"He's a nice enough person, and I've appreciated the diversion. But it's no loss not to see him anymore. What does he have to do with this?"

Something primitive was roused inside of him. He felt… possessive? He definitely received some sort of pleasant sensation at her avowal of her disinterest in Blaize.

"Orion Blaize is a Death Eater. He's been set to try to win your affections to gain access to your research. Apparently tonight's attack occurred because the Dark Lord is impatient with his progress. I would not be surprised if he was among those who were raiding your lab."

And then, with an abrupt change of subject, he asked, "Why aren't you married, Miss Lupin? A husband would at least spare you from that particular brand of attempted manipulation."

He was surprised at the question himself, but now he had voiced it, he found himself interested in her answer. She had evaded the subject when he brought it up on the day of the Memorial.

"Why aren't you, Professor Snape?" she retorted archly, swiftly turning the subject back to him.

He smirked. "Always a question for a question with you! I believe we discussed this before? All right. I am married, then, to my work, and always have been. The Dark Lord is amused and pleased that I have no outside distractions, as he feels it makes my work more pure. And so, now your turn to answer."

She had no idea why he would answer her so honestly just now. Perhaps he was humouring her in light of her injuries, or maybe he thought she wouldn't remember the conversation later, due to the injury to her head. Whatever his reasoning was, she felt that he deserved honesty in return.

"I've had dated some, here and there. My experience with Warrington has left me distrustful, but I'm not a total recluse. Some of the blokes at the Ministry are nice enough. Narcissa is always sending someone my way. But in the end, they've all turned out to be either ignorant or obnoxious—sometimes both. I can't abide stupid men. I've spent my life comparing them all to my ideal of the intelligent man. They always fall hopelessly short. So…" She shrugged.

"I am married to my work as well."

This disturbed him yet again. The implication that he was that 'ideal', by which she compared all other men, was not lost on him. He was uncomfortable with that role in the extreme. On the other hand, that someone had thought this much of him, this well of him, for so many years, was not altogether unpleasant. It was perhaps even…flattering?

Admittedly, she was naïve and destined for pain if she persisted in viewing him in such a favourable light. Yet it stirred a feeling of protectiveness within him which he could not wholly explain. He would not deliberately hurt her, nor allow her feelings for him to cause her pain, if he could at all help it.

By way of keeping that promise to himself, he returned to his book.

"You should sleep, Miss Lupin. At least your work cannot fall short of your expectations or leave you disappointed. That is as safe a marriage as anyone can hope to make. Sleep. You will be safe here. I will not leave you."

She smiled softly to herself. He had not rejected her couched declaration, though he characteristically cautioned her against it. Still, she was comforted by his presence, and slept.

A week passed before she was well enough to leave the ward. Her mother stayed with her often, her father occasionally, and when neither of them was available, Severus stayed with her. He greeted her parents with cool but polished politeness, which would have astonished any of his students.

He was not warm or friendly towards Rowena. In fact, he often sat reading and saying nothing the whole time he was with her. Yet he never failed to be there. He did seem cool and distant, more so even than usual, as though he had decided to try to make her dislike him. The thought amused her. He could hardly choose a more hopeless endeavour.

When she was at last well enough to leave the hospital wing, Dumbledore visited her to discuss what had happened and what he intended to do about it. Severus was in the room, studiously absorbed in his book. He made no move to leave when Albus arrived.

"Rowena, I'm glad to see you well. I'm afraid your safety is still very much in question right now."

With a wave of his wand, Albus conjured a tea service and poured them each a cup.

She frowned. "I don't really understand how I got mixed up in all this. I'm only a scientist, and not a very well known one at that. How did I even get on You-Know-Who's 'radar', so to speak? Surely I'm too insignificant for him to bother with?"

Albus shook his head and replied gravely, "You underestimate the value of knowledge, Rowena. Knowledge is power, and Voldemort desires power in all its forms." The Headmaster tactfully pretended to ignore her slight spill of tea when she cringed at the sound of the name.

"Your recent and rapid success at countering many of his newest spells has irritated him. He has at least one spy in the Ministry who has informed him that you have been set the task to strengthen the wards of Azkaban. He wants all of his Death Eaters freed. So, he assigned some of those who are at liberty the task to hinder or steal your research, by whatever means necessary. One of these was Mr Blaize.

"Unfortunately for him, he has so far failed in his attempts. Voldemort hopes to maintain secrecy, but no doubt your empty lab seemed a very great temptation as a more expeditious way to gain that information. As soon as he learned of its failure, he assigned yet another of his Death Eaters to work from a different direction. We must assume that he will not rest until he has breached Azkaban."

She absorbed this information slowly, analytically, and then nodded.

"So what must I do? I won't abandon my research—it needs to be done. What can I do?"

Her eyes were somewhat distant as she stared into her teacup, giving the subject her full thought and attention.

"Who has been sent to stop me now?" she asked, and then knew the answer before it was spoken. He was scowling darkly, but met her eyes as he looked up from his book and gave the slightest of nods.

"I see…" she said, still contemplative. Now she had a new concern, which was far greater than any concern over her own safety. She felt perfectly confident that she was completely safe here at Hogwarts.

"Haven't you just put Professor Snape at great risk, by revealing this to me? If he's unsuccessful in his instructions, won't his role be exposed?"

Dumbledore had been silently watching her, remembering her well enough from school to know that she preferred to work things through on her own rather than have them handed to her.

Severus, however, snorted in disgust and irritation. "You need not worry about me, Miss Lupin. I assure you I can look after myself. We are currently talking about how to save your skin without losing your necessary research. My role is not open for discussion."

Albus raised a hand then, seeing Rowena rising to anger, and spoke firmly but kindly. "We are not going to allow either of you to be in danger if we can help it. Rowena, I would like you to officially agree to live at Hogwarts. You could continue your research as you have been; though to meet Ministry requirements, you would have to teach, at least part time.

"I was thinking of a Theory and Research class—if we made this available only to fourth years and above, the teaching load would not interfere too much with your research time, and would meet the letter of the law. Students below fourth year wouldn't have enough foundation to fully benefit from that sort of instruction, so there's no suspicion to be roused by not offering it to all students."

Rowena laughed then, a sound of nervous release as she shrugged. "How on earth can you expect me to teach? I have no idea how! I'm a research scientist, Professor, and not very adept at public speaking."

Severus snorted at this and gave her a wry glance. "It is not difficult, Miss Lupin. You must simply resign yourself to the fact that the students do not wish to learn what you are teaching. If you actually allow yourself to be concerned with their educational progress, you will only become bitter and disillusioned."

She grinned up at him and raised her brows in doubt. "You are very fortunate that you have escaped such a fate, then," she said with the merest hint of a laugh in her voice. "I will keep that in mind, Professor, thank you."

One expressive black brow arched disdainfully. "Mock me all you like. You will soon see for yourself. The only reward to teaching is freedom of research. Not one student in a thousand is genuinely interested in their own education."

"Severus, please. Not everyone is as cynical about teaching as you, my friend. Let's not poison the well before she even begins," Albus said with a twinkle and a smile.

Rowena, however, couldn't let go of the doubt that still nagged at her. "Professor Dumbledore, if Professor Snape was set to stop my research, and now I will be effectively evading capture, torture, murder, whatever they intended for me, won't he be suspect?" She looked at Severus as well as she asked this, genuinely concerned.

Severus stood and leaned against the wall, looking out the window. "I already told you not to concern yourself with this, Miss Lupin. I will not discuss it further," he said firmly.

Albus chided him gently, "Severus, she is asking a reasonable question. She is not prying, and has a right to be concerned."

The Headmaster turned to address her. "We are all friends and equals here, Rowena. You must call me Albus. Over the past month, since you started working with us in the evenings, we have been deliberately spreading rumours that I have been attempting to lure you away from Cornelius.

"It is our hope that Voldemort will believe… well, what happened—that my operatives simply moved more quickly than his. No doubt he will be displeased, but he rarely disposes of valuable followers over my actions."

He spoke confidently, but his lined face betrayed his own worry. She could see nothing of Severus but his rigid, black-clad back as he stared out the window.

Rowena stood and paced in the room. "Displeased? Rarely? Prof… Albus, my father is one of the Chief Healers at St. Mungo's. I have a pretty good idea what You-Know-Who does to his followers when he's 'displeased', and how 'rarely' he kills his own people in rage. I've watched my father bring many of them back from the brink of death myself.

"You can't expect me to be happy that my life was saved at the risk of someone else's? Not when I know what he likely faces when he returns there? Well, okay, I don't know—I can't possibly truly imagine the whole of it, I'm sure. But I know enough, and it's more than I'd like to know, I assure you."

Severus leaned one shoulder against the window so that he could turn to look at her. While he was capable of concealing his thoughts and emotions when it suited him, he was currently regarding her with an expression of thinly veiled disbelief. With the exception of Albus, no one cared to think about what went on when he faced the Dark Lord. They merely accepted that he took 'risks' and lived in the bliss of ignorance as to what that truly entailed.

It was an odd experience to see someone so distressed over some unknown, possible (admittedly likely) future consequence that he would receive for his actions. Yet again, he was finding it not an unpleasant sensation, but still an unwelcome one.

His voice broke into her ranting, firm enough to halt her pacing. "Miss Lupin! I thank you for your concern. It is unneeded and unwanted. This is the role of a spy, or were you vague on that definition? This portion of the discussion is over."

She rounded on him, glaring angrily. He would have laughed if he could remember how. She was more than half a foot shorter than he was, and yet faced him down as though she would duel with him in an instant, her small chin jutting defiantly.

"This discussion is most certainly not over," she said stubbornly. "I want information and options. I won't knowingly send someone to danger after saving my life. I want to know what we can give him to appease him without jeopardising the bigger picture. Now, either be helpful or belt it."

Albus coughed violently into his teacup as though he had just choked back a laugh. Severus, however, scowled even more darkly at this mere slip of a woman who dared to speak to him in such a way.

"We can give him nothing, Miss Lupin," he said dangerously, "as I am the only one who actually has access to him. I am quite capable of dealing with the situation. I am not a Gryffindor, you forget. Slytherins do not throw their lives away needlessly. All you need to know is that this is my job, and you need to leave me to it."

She turned her back on Severus, and instead appealed to Dumbledore.

"I have lots of spells in the research stages, Albus. Many of them aren't completed. But what if Professor Snape was to have some of the notes to be able to provide to You-Know-Who, when he has to go? I can sort through the spells that are the least complete, or ones that I can easily formulate new counters for—things that wouldn't matter at all in the long run. But wouldn't that be a reasonable 'good faith' gesture for Professor Snape to have? It might save him some… trouble… at the very least?"

Albus smiled at her, his eyes dancing in amusement. He had never seen anyone besides himself stand up to Severus so stubbornly, in friendship. He suspected it would do the boy good to have a little fresh irritation in his life. An irritation in the form of a bright young woman might be just the thing. He nodded to her, and then waved his hands in a gesture of dismissal.

"Splendid idea, Rowena. Severus, take her to her rooms. Show her around. I don't think she has gone anywhere in the castle but her lab during the time she's been here so far. Take whatever notes she gives you for the next time you have to face Tom." He saw Rowena's look of confusion, and smiled sadly. "Lord Voldemort was my student years ago, Rowena. His true name is Tom Riddle."

Rowena shuddered again at the easy way Albus threw the name about, but nodded obediently at the instructions and turned to follow Severus. He wore his darkest glare and sneered unpleasantly, though he still held the door open for her.

"It appears you have won this round, Miss Lupin. Do not think it will happen again," he said darkly.

She, on the other hand, decided to goad him further. She was at least as irritated with him as he was with her, but met his sneering anger with a playful demeanor and a cheerful voice.

"Oh, Professor Snape, I beg you not to underestimate me. I can be quite determined, and never give up once I've set my mind to a goal."

He scoffed at her and led the way down the hall. "And I had thought you were a rational creature. You were a Ravenclaw, after all. With an attitude like that, you might have been better in Gryffindor." He managed to make the last word a horrible insult, and she stifled a laugh.

She gave him an almost flirtatious smile, and replied archly, "Being rational and logical in no way implies being weak-willed, Professor."

He merely gave a small noise of disbelief or irritation and preceded her to a long corridor on the third floor, which she did not recall seeing during her years as a student.

"This is the faculty wing. Professors who are not Heads of Houses have their lodgings here. It is invisible and inaccessible to students. However, you will find a door inside your rooms which will take you directly to your office, which immediately adjoins your classroom."

He opened the door to what was essentially a small flat, though somewhat larger than the one she had just been forced to vacate. Her belongings had already been moved here and more or less unpacked as she had had them in her previous home. The layout was remarkably similar to her original flat, and most of her possessions had been put in their corresponding places already.

She looked into it for a moment, checking wardrobe and cupboard space, and mentally made note of what things needed to be moved. She was immediately conscious of the lack of fear, feeling no need at all to perform her ritual search of the flat upon entrance. This she attributed to the sense of safety, which seemed to permeate the castle. There were several large trunks in the center of the sitting room, and she opened these immediately, rummaging through papers silently as she tried to ignore the powerful presence of one grumpy Severus Snape standing in the center of the room.

It would have been easier to ignore a nesting mother dragon lying there instead.

He seemed mildly amused or irritated, though with him the two might well be the same, as he observed her in silence. Something in one of her trunks caught his eye, and he strode over and pulled out what was unmistakably a green Slytherin Snake, of the sort used by students for autographs. He was on the point of opening it to look at the pages within when she snatched it unceremoniously from his hands, and instead placed several rolls of parchment there.

"I will thank you not to go through my personal belongings, Professor Snape," she said, irritably. "I believe you will find those notes adequate to your needs. Now, if you will show me to my office and classroom?"

He quirked an eyebrow and perused the papers in his hand, and asked in a bored voice, "Why does a Ravenclaw have a Slytherin Snake?"

"I do not see that as being any concern of yours. I had lots of friends in all the Houses, not just Ravenclaw," she replied with annoyance. "My office, Professor Snape?"

He tucked the spell notes into an inner pocket of his robes. He did not reveal his grudging approval of the work. She was thorough in her notes, and it would indeed be helpful in his next encounter with the Dark Lord. He did not, however, like being indebted to anyone and it rankled.

"Of course, Miss Lupin," he replied, taking on the bored tones of someone set in a dull and tedious task, "you will also undoubtedly want to see the areas of the castle which have changed since your school days. The owlery is no longer in North Tower, but in the east, as Trelawney wanted the north for her lodgings and classes. Potions is no longer on the fourth floor, as I have moved it to the dungeons, as you know already. I expect you will have need to send owls?"

"My office will be sufficient, Professor Snape. I can wander and find the rest for myself," she said, still irritated. She had no wish to be 'minded', especially by this man! "I presume I'm allowed relatively free rein of the castle and grounds?"

"Yes, yes. You may go where you like, so long as you do not leave the protection of the grounds. We are nearly at your office now, and then you can find your way to the owlery yourself. It would be best if you were discreet in your owls, as they have been intercepted often of late," he replied, matching her tone-for-tone in irritation.

"Here is your office," he said, opening a door to a large room lined with shelves. It also contained a desk, several filing cabinets, one chair behind the desk and two in front of it, a fireplace near the window, and a seating arrangement near the fire which was similar to the one in her flat, though smaller.

"That shelf there," he said, pointing and then demonstrating, "conceals a door, which is magically connected to your rooms, so you can move freely between the two. You will need to set your own password to use it.

"Your classroom then, is here," he said as he opened a door opposite her desk, to reveal a classroom with student desks, a blackboard, animal cages, bookshelves and other standard paraphernalia. He preceded her into it and opened another door on the far wall.

"This door has been enchanted to communicate with your lab in the dungeon, so you can move freely between all of your rooms without entering the public corridors, if you should choose."

He crossed his arms and faced her with his haughty sneer firmly in place, "Do you require anything else, Miss Lupin, or has your tour been sufficient for your present needs?"

She was very pleased with the accommodations. But his attitude and sneering 'Miss Lupin' aggravated her.

"I'm fine from here, Professor, thank you. Although I suppose that once students arrive, I must ask you to refer to me as 'Professor Lupin'? Anything else might be construed as disrespectful. I'm going to have a hard enough time being the new teacher without my colleagues openly deriding me in front of the students."

He gave her a look that was simultaneously sardonic and approving. "Of course, Professor Lupin. I meant no disrespect. Good day." With a small, almost mocking bow, he was gone.

She did indeed go to the owlery first, but only to send a note to her mother and another to Elizabeth. Eliza could assure the rest of her former colleagues that she was well. It was odd, in a sense, how quickly she had come to view them as 'former' colleagues.

It was late, so she quickly returned to her new rooms and set to unpacking her things. A small cage was opened to release a tawny-coloured ferret, almost exactly the same colouring as Rowena's hair, with bright, curious eyes.

"This is our new home now, Vixen. Try to behave yourself? And no hoarding."

This last was said with little hope of obedience. Vixen was an excellent familiar and companion—but she was a ferret, and ferrets hoard things, especially if they are small, bright, and shiny.

The rest of her unpacking was not nearly so easy as merely opening the ferret's cage.

Professor! How the bloody hell did she allow herself to get talked into this? It seemed her whole life had been turned utterly upside down in the space of a few short weeks. She was not of a temperament to have much tolerance for this level of excitement. How she was going to manage teaching was a mystery!

She set the passwords as she had been instructed, then spent several hours moving back and forth amongst the rooms, putting things away. Her photo albums and more personal articles needed discreet homes. At last she was satisfied with the result. She was tired, though, and hadn't eaten since lunch. Summoning a house-elf, she had a light supper before going to bed.