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 6: Summons and Orders
Rowena spent the next several days working on lesson plans. McGonagall and Flitwick were very helpful in this. Never having taught before, she had no idea where to begin or how to break down the material for appropriate age levels. The necessary teaching attire was acquired by owl-order.
Wednesday evening came too quickly, though she simultaneously felt as though she had waited forever. By four o'clock, she was waiting on the grounds with a new bundle of toys and books. She didn't want him catching her off guard again like he had done last time. His presence in her personal space would only heighten her sense of vulnerability around him; the memory of their row did that well enough on its own. It was far better to meet him here, on neutral ground.
The brisk strides and catlike grace announced his identity long before he was near enough to see clearly. The snap and swish of his black robes seemed to be the physical manifestation of his mood. He didn't acknowledge her presence when she caught him up to walk the last few metres to Hagrid's cabin together.
Hagrid greeted them and summoned the Thestrals with his call, and then with fresh meat, but it was a long wait, and even then only one arrived. Hagrid sighed and gave them a chagrined look.
"I'm real sorry, Professors. The centaurs' bin huntin' today, and there's bin a lot o'refuse from their kills. Thestrals'd rather eat than work, I don' reckon I'll be able ter get any others. This one could do fer both o' yeh. Thestrals are real strong, wouldn' be no trouble."
Rowena paled and shook her head, but before she could speak, Severus grabbed her from behind. She shrieked and tried frantically to twist away, but his strong hands half-spanned her waist, and he lifted her easily onto the beast.
She cried out, "No, really! This isn't going to work!"
But he had already swung up behind her, reached around her to hold the mane himself, and said harshly, "St. Mungo's."
The Thestral lurched easily into the air, and they were off. Severus' voice sounded distant in the rush of wind, though she was painfully aware of him directly behind her.
"I've no time to argue, and I'll not break my word to that child. I won't bite you and I won't throw you off, so do try to contain your horror at my proximity," he said sardonically.
Oh, Merlin's Beard! If only she could feel horror at his proximity! She had been frightened, indeed almost to the point of panic, when he first grabbed her from behind like that—too much similarity to the aborted assault many years before. However, as soon as she was settled on the beast and all but enveloped in his warm strength behind her, those emotions took an entirely different turn.
Her heart was pounding, and the familiar fear of simply being terrifyingly high above the ground was affecting her, of course. But that seemed a paltry annoyance in comparison to the feel of very strong, firm arms around her waist, the long, thin fingers nearly entangled with hers in the mane, and his body pressed close behind her.
She had never in her life been—willingly—this physically close to another person. She was practically sitting on his lap, his firm thighs alongside hers from behind and both their bodies rocking with the movement of the beast's wings. It was a movement that had always been faintly terrifying to her before, but now was worse, as it was oddly seductive. It was hard to resist the urge to close her eyes and lean back against him, to melt into his arms like a lover.
However, there was something in the severe rigidity with which he held his body that suggested that he was no more comfortable in this situation than she was.
She had never been more disturbed by sensations of her body. The flight was just under an hour, but it seemed simultaneously to last an eternity and yet not long enough. A part of her felt safer and more secure in his arms, miles above the ground on the back of the magical beast than she had ever felt before. An equal part of her was terrified at the strange, heated sensations swirling around within her. It was a mixture of remorse and relief that filled her as they landed in the hospital courtyard.
He dismounted first and offered her a hand off. She shook her head violently and slid down herself, clinging again to the mount while her trembling body regained its sense of earth and gravity, and her wildly pounding heart-rate returned to normal. She couldn't meet his eyes for a long moment, not wanting him to see the disturbance of her spirits.
"If you are so afraid of heights, why don't you give this up in light of the circumstances?" he asked her. His tone was almost conversational, with little of his usual sarcasm.
She was glad he assumed all her discomposure arose from the height. When she was certain she could face him with relative calm, she turned and shook her head. "I'm not going to give up on these children over some irrational fear. The Thestrals make it much easier—I'd never make it on broomstick. Besides, I'm sure that if I just keep facing it, I'll get over it, eventually."
He snorted. "How very Gryffindor of you. Face the fear head on, is that it?" He went to grasp her elbow to guide her inside, but pulled back as though burnt when she involuntarily flinched back from him, and his face darkened.
"I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean anything by that…"
He sneered at her. "Of course, Professor Lupin. Enough physical contact with the evil Potions master, for one day, eh? Shall we go?"
"No, wait—you don't understand and I don't want you angry over nothing!"
He scoffed in derision, thought this seemed to be self-directed. "I quite assure you that I am more than accustomed to women shrinking away from me. That you survived the journey is testament to your bravery. Now, get inside."
She stood in front of him defiantly, a now-familiar look of stubborn annoyance overtaking her features. "Will you listen to me for a minute? I jump like that when anybody touches me when I'm not expecting it. I can't help it. It's the Warrington thing again, all right?"
She shuddered slightly and continued, "I haven't ever gotten over it—you know that, by watching me search my flat. So, I would thank you kindly not to jump to conclusions about my actions, and if you are going to grab me and throw me on the back of a horse, it would be most considerate if you would at least warn me first!"
His brow furrowed, and his dark countenance somehow became even stormier.
"Of course. It was careless of me. Now, I am truly short on time this evening, and I doubt I would be welcome on the ward without your presence. Shall we go?"
He gestured carelessly toward the door, and she led the way. Internally she was scolding herself for putting them at odds once again. It seemed he had been willing to at least ignore their row on Saturday, and then she had to go and make everything awkward all over again. With a smothered sigh, she forced a cheerful smile as they entered the ward.
It was much the same as before, though minus one infant, as she had been adopted. The other children were just as excited to see Rowena, hugging her quickly and clamoring to tell her of their week, asking why she was here on a Wednesday since she normally only came on Saturdays; the normal busy chatter of excited children. The noise and questions were overwhelming, so that there was no more room for unsettling ruminations. Sitting down where they could all sit around her, or on her lap, she listened and answered with apparent delight.
Severus went immediately to the corner chair by the window, next to Katrina's bed, and merely observed the flurry of activity.
Katrina seemed too shy to join in the crush, but stood on the fringe of the group of children and also watched silently. Rowena spotted her at once, beckoned to her, and snuggled her firmly on her lap. The child was still much too thin, but no longer nearly as pale. Doubtlessly, she had been treated with numerous Blood-Replenishing potions, among others. The bright-blue eyes watched Severus cross the room, and soon Katrina wriggled off of Rowena's lap to go and stand by the silent man.
Rowena was too distracted by the other children to give her full attention to that interaction. When she next glanced toward the corner, Katrina was comfortably settled on Severus' lap, and they seemed to be deep in conversation in German, with no notice for anyone else. Rowena doled out her presents, and at last was able to extricate herself from the others to come to Katrina.
In addition to her improved colour, Katrina's golden curls were now clean and neat, brushed to a high sheen. Next to her bed, there was also a large box full of some of the most expensive chocolates known to wizards; none of them were in the shape of animals, or animated. Rowena glanced up at Severus and raised an inquiring brow of her own. He refused to meet her gaze and actually looked somewhat sheepish!
She grinned at him, and was on the point of trying to tease him about his apparent new-found soft-spot for children, when he hissed as though something had struck him painfully, and clutched his left arm. He stood, setting Katrina gently in the chair, and looked at Rowena. His face was very pale, more even than usual, and a fine sheen of perspiration was already upon his upper lip.
"Rowena, I must leave. NOW," he said in very soft tones that nonetheless conveyed a great deal of urgency.
She understood immediately. Quietly, she asked, "Do you have the notes I gave you?"
He nodded. "I can't take you back to Hogwarts. I must leave at once."
She nodded and quickly sought Mandy, the Ward Sister.
"Mandy, I have just forgotten I am late for an appointment. I can't stay another minute. I'm sorry to leave so suddenly, but I will come again on Saturday."
"Not a problem at all, lass," the Sister said kindly. "It was so nice of you to make an extra stop. Have a good evening, then."
Severus was already moving out the door, forcing Rowena to trot to catch him up.
"Come quickly. I will see you to the Thestral. Once in flight, you should be safe enough," Severus said, but he was distracted and irritable. "We ought to have planned for this contingency and had a back up guardian for your travel."
"It's okay," she said breathlessly as she panted to keep up with his long strides. "Dumbledore said the Thestrals are safe enough because they're so hard to catch."
"Not by someone else also upon a Thestral," he said as though it should have been obvious. "Thankfully, I know of no one besides Hagrid who has managed to domesticate the beasts. It will have to do, unless your father is on-duty tonight and can see you back to the castle?"
"No, he's always off on Wednesdays," she answered.
When they reached the animal, he turned to her to help her mount, but stopped short, clearly remembering that she didn't like to be touched. She stood to face him and placed a hand on his arm, which seemed to be invitation enough. He gripped her around her waist, lifted her as easily as he had done before, and placed her on the back of the animal.
She clung to his hand for another instant after he had lifted her, and looked into his eyes, for a moment forgetting to guard her emotions from him, fear and concern evident in them.
"Severus, be careful. Use the notes. Promise him you can get more. Whatever it takes. Merlin knows there is plenty more where they came from. Blame Dumbledore for taking me to Hogwarts. Anything. Just be safe," she said fearfully.
He looked at her, and there was again that small twinge of recognition as their eyes met. He gave her a small smirk, and resumed his sardonic tones. "Do not fear for me, Professor Lupin. I am well able to handle myself. Now go. Hogwarts, as quickly as you can."
This last bit, he said directly to the Thestral, and it lurched into the air at once. When it was over the hospital, Rowena heard the unmistakable 'crack' of Apparation.
Rowena wanted to see Dumbledore immediately upon returning to Hogwarts. It was the most urgent thought in her mind during the entire flight—tell Dumbledore. Dismounting the Thestral quickly, she ran flat-out to the castle. She found Albus in his office. There was no preamble to his greeting, as she was clearly in some distress.
"Rowena, what is it?" he asked, worriedly. She was pale and panting from running, and from fear.
"Severus—he was with me at St. Mungo's, but he's been summoned… by… his arm…" she stammered, unable to articulate her fear. Instead she cupped her right hand over her left forearm, pantomiming what she could not manage to say.
"Ah. I see. Come with me." He stood and strode quickly to the Hospital wing, calling for the Matron upon arrival. "Poppy? Poppy?"
The Matron appeared in the doorway of her office, an inquiring expression on her face.
"Prepare for Severus," Albus said, as though this was a familiar directive. "He's been gone—how long ago was the summons, Rowena?"
"Just over an hour. Do you expect him to need medical treatment, Professor?" she asked, her voice becoming higher with fear at the thought.
He sighed and looked at her with gentle sympathy.
"Yes, Rowena. He often does. Voldemort does not trust anyone, you see. He believes Severus to be his agent, spying on me for him, but he is always suspicious. It is a dangerous line Severus walks, and it is imperative that everyone who sees him believe that he is a Death Eater pulling the wool over a foolish old man's eyes."
He smiled at her then, plainly trying to reassure her, a hint of the usual twinkle in his clear blue eyes. "I do enjoy the role of a doddering old fool. I perform it admirably well, don't you think? It allows me so much room to play, and no one ever knows when I'm really doing something worth watching, or when I'm simply being senile. I must admit that it's quite entertaining. I've learnt some of my favorite tricks from my friend Alastor."
He could tell by looking into her wide, fearful eyes that his attempt at humour was not helping at this juncture, and he became more serious once again.
"Voldemort knows it would be very easy for his spy to cross him—as Severus has done, of course. Severus is routinely questioned to look for any deceptions. I imagine your loss will cause the interview to be particularly harsh, though your notes may be of assistance. He has a Portkey with him at all times, which will bring him directly here. We will wait."
To say that Rowena was horrified would be an understatement. Albus had led her into a hidden treatment room, which was concealed behind a large supply cabinet. It was nicely proportioned, but seeing Madam Pomfrey fussing about the empty bed with medical supplies, looking pale and frightened, did not improve Rowena's sense of security.
"Albus, let me call my dad, please? He's one of the best Healers St. Mungo's has ever had." This was probably the exaggeration of an adoring daughter, but she clearly believed it. Her tone was one of helplessness as she anxiously grasped at anything she might do that would be of use. "I've got to do something… please?"
He took her hand and squeezed it gently, offering a reassuring smile. "He's been in worse scrapes than this, Rowena. The fewer people we involve, the safer he will be. Let us wait and see, okay?"
And so they waited.
It felt like days, though it was really only a few hours. At about midnight, with a soft whooshing sound like a sudden breeze, the supine form of Severus Snape appeared suddenly on the narrow hospital bed. Albus had fallen asleep in his overstuffed chintz chair, and Poppy had retired to a bed in her office, awaiting only a call.
Rowena, however, had been awake, staring fearfully at the bed. She leapt immediately to his side and reached out for him. He grabbed her wrist with the speed of a striking snake, and glared at her suspiciously, but then relaxed. His eyes, within his bloodied face, were alert, but clouded with pain.
"I should have known you would be here," he said sardonically, though his voice was weak and forced.
She felt immediately businesslike. Her years of working with her father kicked in, enabling her to stave off the weak-kneed feeling of relief, which wanted to overwhelm her. Instead, she used the surge of adrenaline to cling to her objectivity. Waving her wand over him, she began standard diagnostic spells, trying to categorise the injuries to treat the most severe ones first.
"What hurts the most? Oh… Merlin's beard!" The standard 'Healer' question trailed off into a curse.
His face was bruised and bloody, and his breathing laboured, clearly painful. The ribs on the left side had been broken, nearly—but not quite—puncturing his lung.
However, the bit that shocked her most was the numerous old scars revealed by the diagnostic spells, since even bones scar as they heal. There was not a bone in his upper body that had not been broken and healed multiple times. One rib, in particular, had been broken so often that if one were to take it apart along all the scar lines, it would be reduced to nothing but rubble.
She quickly healed the bones, a fairly simple charm she had learnt early on from her father, and continued her diagnostic. Healing the bones immediately eased his breathing and likely a great deal of his pain, because he again roused himself enough to snatch her wrist in his hand to try to stop her, but she frowned at him.
"Lay still or I will paralyze you. Or I will wake Albus!" she threatened in a whisper. He desisted.
None of his facial bones were broken, though she treated the external bruises and cuts as well. Thankfully there did not seem to be much in the way of internal injury—something which would have been far beyond her ability to address. His legs also showed signs of frequent old breaks, but no current injury. Evidence of the Cruciatus Curse overlaid all the rest like a foul magical residue.
The after-effects of that particular curse sometimes seemed to her to be worse than the curse itself—most notably the insanity of the Longbottoms. Insanity was unusual, but it was not uncommon to see seizure activity hours or even days later due to nerve damage. Then there was the residual deep-muscle aches and chronic joint pain from the violent spasms caused during the throes of the curse, which could linger for weeks, if not more.
Since her promotion to the Combative Spells Division, she had been allowed to study the Unforgivables more thoroughly than anyone except those in the Department of Mysteries. The intensity of the negative emotions used to power those spells intrigued her. If the Cruciatus Curse had to be driven by a sadistic hatred and desire to actually cause pain and suffering to its victim, then perhaps the opposite emotions could counter the spell.
She had not been able to develop an effective counter-curse, of course. It was just too powerful. However, she was able to create a spell to heal the physical damage caused by the curse, fueled by opposing emotions. Compassion, benevolence, even affection would increase the effectiveness of the healing. Her father was the sort of Healer who could feel that depth of emotion for any hurting person, and had used the charm to good effect at St. Mungo's.
Rowena wouldn't like to test her ability to use it effectively on a stranger—especially not someone with this much Cruciatus damage. Severus, however…
She performed it without hesitation.
"Solicify."
It required several repeated applications of the charm, but gradually, a noticeable easing of his breathing rewarded her efforts, as well as less rigidity of his posture.
At last she could find no further injuries. She brought him a large glass of water and propped his pillows up behind him, the latter of which was unnecessary.
As soon as he was able, he sat at the edge of the bed, his back ramrod straight. His black eyes gleamed in the dim light of the torches, while his expression seemed to defy her to say something of his momentary weakness.
"Severus…" she whispered, uncertainly. What could she possibly say? It was her fault he had suffered through this particular encounter.
He took the glass from her, sniffed it in a manner reminiscent of Alastor Moody, and then drank deeply. His voice, when he spoke again, was fully recovered and coolly polite.
"I am fine, Professor Lupin. I thank you for your prompt attentions, as it saved the necessity of waking Albus or Poppy. I suggest you leave now and sleep yourself."
"I'm not going anywhere. I can sleep later. What happened? What does he want now?" she asked. She sat in the chair by the bed and clasped her hands together to keep them from betraying her continued anxiety.
He snorted. "You like to get right to the point, don't you, Lupin?"
For a while, she thought he might not answer. He was staring into the water glass with a thoughtful frown, as though contemplating.
In truth, he did not want to answer. It was one thing for the Dark Lord and Albus, and even this confounding woman, to accept that he was expected to try to delay her Azkaban research in some way, or steal it if he could. Lupin's willingness—no, her insistence that she be allowed—to participate in that endeavour ought to have made it more manageable. Not that he would have admitted such to her, of course.
This new directive, however, was very different. It was not a professional relationship of colleague to colleague that the Dark Lord wanted. That was too slow and unreliable. He thought it far better to toy with the emotions of those involved.
"An infatuated woman," the Dark Lord had said to him, with a laughing sneer, "can be manipulated into almost anything…"
He glanced up from his glass to bore his gaze into her chocolate-brown eyes. Even without Legilimency, he could see the sincerity of her concern. With Legilimency, he butted up against stubborn defiance, making him long to reach for his wand to give added strength to the skill, though he couldn't help but smirk when she glanced away. Doubtlessly he had been getting close to the limit of her ability to repel him.
She continued to look at him in stubborn silence, while he considered the dilemma. He knew that Albus would insist she be told as soon as he learnt of it, regardless of Severus' opinion on the matter. Severus would rather inform her himself, without the Meddler present.
"Very well. The Dark Lord is livid that you have shunned Orion Blaize. He has very little regard for the female gender as a rule. He believes them easily malleable by engaging their emotions, and your continued rejection of his operatives is taxing his limited patience.
"Then, my dear friend Lucius provided him a bit of useful information, which he apparently received from his beloved wife."
Rowena drew in a sharp hiss of breath and gaped at him. She knew, oh Merlin's beard, she knew what it was. Narcissa Malfoy had been feigning 'friendship' with her for years, having tea, arranging dates, visiting her lab and even dropping by her flat on occasion. It was just one of the many ways the Malfoy family kept tabs on what was going on in the Ministry.
Narcissa could not have failed to notice the surreptitious photos of Severus scattered about; or the fact that the men Rowena usually consented to date more than once generally bore at least some resemblance in appearance or temperament to Severus.
It was one thing for Rowena herself to have told Severus about some of her childhood infatuation with him. It was entirely different to dread how it must have sounded coming from Lucius Malfoy amongst a faceless horde of Death Eaters. She could easily imagine that Narcissa would have gleefully exaggerated the truth—and the truth itself was embarrassing enough!
She buried her face in her hands and waited for him to continue.
"Apparently, Narcissa suggested they were using the wrong… bait, if you will… to win the frigid heart of the scientist.
"Incidentally, the word frigid is not mine. It was Orion's opinion, seconded by several other young men who have apparently tried to crack the ice of said scientist. 'Frigid' is not a word I would have considered aptly applied to you. Stubborn, willful, obstinate, temperamental... even irrational perhaps, but not 'frigid'."
She looked up at him then and offered a weak smile. "I'm sure, Professor Snape, that when you're feeling better you'll be able to add much more colourful adjectives to the list. I get the point.
"So, he wants to change the 'bait', as you call it?" she asked in a tone of weary defeat.
"Quite. You may be unaware that for the last year all of your supposed 'dates' have been arranged by his followers, all with the same apparent lack of success.
"The Dark Lord was pleased with the notes you provided me, which I claimed to have copied from your lab, but he wishes me to take a more active role.
"He keeps his Death Eaters in line by throwing them occasional treats. You were originally promised to Blaize, whenever the Dark Lord decided he no longer had use for you, regardless of what had to be done to get you. Blaize was quite angry to be deprived of his prize, and so was permitted to 'show' me just how irritated he was. However, in the end, he had to agree to the new arrangement, of course."
She shuddered at the implication, but watched him silently. Horribly, she knew what was coming and wished she could stop it.
He closed his eyes and sighed, tiredly. "Allow me to introduce you to your newest admirer."
Even though she had been expecting it, the words twisted painfully somewhere in the vicinity of her navel. Had she been alone, she might have indulged herself in a good, cathartic cry. She would love nothing better than to have the sincere regard of Severus Snape, but instead it was now commanded of him to feign it.
Commanded, no less, from Lord Voldemort himself.
Of course, he would have to comply. Of course, she would play along to do her small part to help keep him safe.
But how cruel was this charade? It would be no stretch of acting or imagination on her part to pretend to fancy him, to help him in whatever way she could. The problem was that her emotions were already too involved. His acting the suitor, no matter how forced, would be so bittersweet. It would be a miracle to get out of this with both of them alive and well, and her heart intact.
Briefly, she closed her eyes and consciously steeled her Occlumency. Bringing a damp flannel to him, she sat on the edge of the bed and gently washed his face, as it was still bloody. It was a mark of his own weariness of spirit that he allowed the attention. She smiled archly at him, trying to pretend to be unaffected.
"I assure you, Professor, I have had far more distasteful admirers. I dare say I will find you tolerable."
His eyes bored into hers, glittering in the darkness. She had shielded herself from him, but he had already learnt to read her enough to feel the tiny trembling of her hand as she washed his face.
This was surely one of the most vicious things he had ever been asked to do—to feign admiration and tender feelings that he simply was incapable of experiencing—toward a woman who certainly deserved to be cared for by someone worthy. A woman, moreover, who somehow actually seemed to wish for his genuine attention.
Once, he could have been cold and cruel enough to perform the task admirably, without remorse. However, he had long since ceased to take pleasure in deliberate cruelty without good provocation. This attack on her very soul was possibly the most vicious assignment ever given him.
He sat in rigid silence as she tended him. How he was to get her out of this without destroying that core of her that was so naive, he had no idea.
He was surprised to find that even though her innocence and idealism were among the things that annoyed him the most with her, he still wanted to protect and preserve them. If that was even possible!
The sun poured brightly into the window of the hospital wing, and he opened his eyes slowly. He knew at once where he was, because his own rooms had no windows. The awareness of his location brought with it recollection of how and why he had come to be there. The wounds had been sufficiently tended that he experienced only a minor ache as he woke. He couldn't help smirk to himself. She would have done well as a Healer. It would surely have been a safer occupation for her.
As he gained awareness of his body and his surroundings, he became aware of something soft and warm lying across his chest. Looking to the side of the bed, he saw her, awkwardly asleep in the chair next to him, her small hand lying gently directly over his heart.
The thought that she had sat there all night, next to him, watching over him, caused strange and confusing emotions to stir to life within him. He squashed them at once and attempted to move her hand without waking her, that he might get up and find Albus.
Chocolate brown eyes blinked open sleepily, and met his. She was only half-awake, and did not have the training or the presence of mind to use her Occlumency before opening her eyes. It was a grave weakness in her defenses, which he would have to point out and rectify—later. It was not beneath him to take advantage of it while he could.
She was concerned for him. He had frightened her—not afraid of him, but for him, which seemed to be unique to her and Albus Dumbledore. The powerful feelings of caring and compassion, which poured into him in that unguarded instant, were nearly overwhelming. For the first time he could ever recall in his life, he broke the eye contact first, looking away and sitting up at the edge of the bed.
A beautiful blush overspread her face, as though she knew what he had done and seen, though when he looked at her again, she was closed to him. He shook off her attempts to help him sit up, but accepted the water she gave him.
"I am quite well, Professor Lupin," he said, attempting to ease the tense, worried expression of her face. "I need to speak to Albus as soon as may be. Poppy surely has me under 'house arrest' until she clears me. It is almost a guarantee that I will be unable to pass through the door at present without removing the magical wards she uses to attempt to contain me. I would rather not expend the energy required to do so.
"Please inform Albus that I am awake and needing to speak with him."
"Quite unnecessary, Severus. I am here. I was just coming to check on you. Rowena was very sly in her treatment last night, but I must say I appreciate the refreshment of sleep, so no harm done. What is new with Voldemort?"
Severus looked at Rowena with a scowl. "I think I would like to discuss this with you in private, Albus," he said. To the enormous surprise of both men, Rowena immediately stood to leave.
Albus had other ideas.
"Severus, if it concerns her, then I think she needs to be here to listen, don't you? She might have valuable input. Rowena, please sit." He summoned a tray of tea and a variety of scones and crumpets, and conjured his favourite fluffy chair. He sat opposite the bed, smiling benignly.
Severus sighed and distractedly ran his hand through his hair. The ebony strands, never in the best of condition, were still bloody from his injuries, and he pulled his hand away in disgust. Rowena quickly stepped over with cleansing charms before he could find his own wand, and hair and hand were clean again in an instant.
He looked at her angrily. "Thank you," he said sarcastically. "I believe I can manage basic personal hygiene on my own."
"I should have done it last night when I was treating you, and didn't think of it," she said, stung by his anger. She was already feeling awkward and discomposed by the anticipated discussion.
He glowered at her, as though it was her fault that her very existence seemed to have thrown his life into uproar. Not that it had ever been what one could consider 'quiet'.
It was unsettling to look at her, normally so stubborn and defiant, but today meek and almost fearful. Already, association with him was hurting her.
Instead he looked at Albus.
"The Dark Lord is still determined to get at Miss Lupin's research. Lucius, now that he is free—thanks to Narcissa's bribes and Fudge's weakness—is equally determined to get the rest of the Death Eaters out of Azkaban. They feel her research is the fastest way to accomplish this. The December timeline remains the same.
"Miss Lupin has managed to evade the charms of every suitor they have sent her way; now, living here under your protection, she is harder than ever to reach. The Imperious Curse is now out of the question, as they recognise that even if she could not overcome it, you would detect and negate its effects at once. He is not willing, yet, to have her killed, as they need her information."
He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds. His body was still and calm, his voice tightly controlled, but there was an aura of unease about him.
"Narcissa has fostered a 'friendship' with Miss Lupin over the years. She passed a bit of information to Lucius, who passed it immediately to the Dark Lord.
"He is highly amused that you have sheltered Miss Lupin in the very nest with one of his own vipers, a viper moreover that she seems to have had a childhood fancy for. He expects me to take full advantage of the situation."
Dumbledore watched him as he spoke, and frequently glanced at Rowena as well. She did not seem surprised at the news. "Well, Severus. It could be worse. There are many ways we could use this to our advantage. It gives you reason to have more access to Rowena's notes and information, information which we could modify to suit our needs.
"Rowena, are you willing to participate in this?"
She nodded and started to speak, but was interrupted before uttering a syllable, by a loud, emphatic, "NO!"
Severus spun on his heel to look angrily at Dumbledore. "Regardless of whether she will, I won't! Albus, this goes too far. We will have to orchestrate a convincing scene where she discovers I am every bit as evil, horrible, and vicious as everyone knows I am, and that will be the end of it."
"Severus… be reasonable. This could be a good opportunity for us, a way to keep you both safe and get behind his defences as well," Dumbledore admonished.
Severus plainly intended to argue further, swelling in indignation, when it was his turn to be interrupted.
"It wouldn't work, anyway," said Rowena, softly. Both men looked at her in surprise. Dumbledore smiled; Severus scowled. Rowena blushed painfully and looked only at her hands clenched in her lap.
"I'm sorry, but it wouldn't. Narcissa has known me for years. She's thrown dozens of men in my path, and been bitterly disappointed when I turned away each one.
"I'm thirty-three years old and have never had any sort of long-term relationship, for Merlin's sake! She knows me too well for me to deny my true feelings with any creditability now."
Severus turned to look back out the window. His thoughts were in painful turmoil. Somehow, amidst it all, he found a part of himself—flattered? Intrigued? Curious? That someone had experienced this depth of emotion for him for all these years was very… interesting. Disturbing, yes, but not altogether distasteful.
Still, any thought of exploring the myriad possibilities had become tainted. Her feelings for him, whatever they might be, ought not to be forced, manipulated, and soiled by the machinations of the Dark Lord! Her purity was such a contrast to that evil; it was a bitter thing to think of participating in the defilement of that innocence. Severus was silent and thoughtful.
"Well, then," said Albus, cheerfully, "are you willing to go along with a friendly charade with Severus? Just to be seen and the like, play through the usual courtship rituals? A few nice dates, some friendly chats about the school grounds when classes resume, those sorts of things?"
"Albus! It's not that easy, and you know it!" Severus snarled. Albus looked at him with a reproachful glance but said nothing, and Severus continued, "They have to believe that I am still with them. A loyal Death Eater never displays any softness or affection—unless tempered with equal measures of cruelty and manipulation. You have no idea how bad it can be. In light of her rather remarkable declaration, it would be all the worse for her to be subjected to that. I will not be a participant!"
Rowena shot to her feet, almost as though propelled there by the rising of her own temper. It was becoming almost a habit for her to stand toe to toe with him in mutual anger. She did not quail—perhaps she was growing immune to his infamous glower.
"Professor Snape!" she snapped in exasperation. "First, I would like you not to speak about me as though I am not here. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions."
His scowl deepened. It could not bode well that she felt the need to quantify her rant by prefacing it with 'first'. His jaw clenched painfully, but he did not interrupt.
"Second, please do not be so arrogant as to think that the lingering of my childhood fascination in any way implies that I am in love with you! I certainly am not! I find you interesting, intelligent, irritating, annoying and entertaining all at once. I enjoy your company when you aren't being a sarcastic prat, and consider you among my friends, your bloody Slytherin 'Rule of A's' be damned! However, I assure you I have no intention of throwing myself at your feet or begging for your affection."
He blinked at the 'friends' comment, but said nothing. Her Occlumency was weakened in her current emotional state, but such a contrariety of emotions were warring within her that he could make out nothing coherent—except that she was sincere in her words.
The heightened colour of her face and angry sparkle of her eyes was quite attractive, but it alarmed him to realise he had noticed that fact.
"Third, I assure you that I am perfectly capable of enduring your 'cruelty' in whatever form it may take in this charade. I've certainly experienced enough of it when you were sincere, it would be nothing to face its pretense."
He flinched minutely at this, but continued to stare at her incredulously. Her voice was now trembling and breathless, betraying what it had cost her to deliver this diatribe.
"Finally, I don't think the final decision is just yours to make. If you don't participate, you risk being outed as a spy, which is dangerous to more lives than just yours or mine. The Order needs your information. Besides, I would be more comfortable knowing what I'm facing, than having to worry about what unknown tactic he would try next if you refuse."
Albus sat silently behind them, watching with amusement. The tableau was quite entertaining; the small woman, staring down the much taller man, neither apparently willing to give an inch. Severus spoke at last, his rich baritone voice the deceptive silk of anger… though it was interesting what he chose to address out of that tirade.
"Slytherins do not have friends, Lupin…"
"I am not a Slytherin, Snape."
Albus nearly snorted in his teacup at her deliberate dropping of his title.
"You will regret this. Once begun, I have no control in the situation. I will be expected to 'present' you at various public functions; to parade you about like some common trollop; again and again I will be expected to prove that I have managed to 'control' you. Even then I cannot assure your safety."
"None of us is safe while he's around. I'm willing to do my part. I expect you to do what you have to do. I don't ask you to 'assure' my safety."
He stared into her eyes, almost angry that she was shielded from him. She had at some point during her diatribe refocused her attention so that her Occlumency was now enough to hide her from him. He longed for the moment to use the Legilimens incantation to read her fully. She stared back, immutable, unreadable, and at last he nodded his defeat.
"Very well. The responsibility for this is yours, then. I would not have agreed to it."
"Accepted."
Albus then stood and handed them each a cup of tea. "Well, then, shall we drink to our new arrangement? I will have to ask you to be discreet amongst the students, of course. Though many of the Death Eaters have children here, Rowena, so Severus must maintain all aspects of his charade at all times when in view of any but our most trusted allies. It won't be easy."
Rowena nodded her understanding, and Albus continued in tones that were revoltingly cheerful.
"Now… how shall we start this off? Tom had the privilege of ordering its inception; allow me to arrange the first date, may I?" In spite of the circumstances, Albus was smiling brightly, his eyes twinkling merrily. He obviously found no small amount of humour in the situation.
Severus scowled in distaste. A 'first date'. With a Lupin. On orders of the Dark Lord. Surely nothing good could come of this!
Albus produced a set of theatre tickets to 'Taming of the Shrew' for the upcoming Friday. "I think dinner and the theatre would be a nice evening, don't you? My information has it that the Malfoys have season tickets. Since Lucius is newly freed, he will certainly want the wizarding world to see him out and about. It will also allow Severus to be seen as embarking on his new orders with alacrity."
Albus handed the tickets to Severus with a smile; the younger man accepted them with a scowl. Severus then glanced at Rowena and raised an inquiring brow. She met his eyes very briefly and nodded mutely.
"Never wear full-length sleeves as long as we are maintaining this charade, Miss Lupin," he said in his best 'Professor' voice, striving for the impression that he was unaffected by this turn of events.
"Death Eaters always conceal their Mark. By making certain that all can see you are un-Marked, you will be spared some attempts to include you in certain… activities. Death Eaters are allowed to associate with non-Death Eaters; some even are married to such. Narcissa herself is not one, although hers is vanity of not wanting to submit to the Mark. By keeping your arms bare, you will be proclaiming to all that you are not among the loyal. It will actually provide you a measure of safety."
He stared at her inscrutably for a moment longer, while she struggled to maintain an air of indifference.
"I will meet you at your rooms at four o'clock on Friday." And with that, he withdrew his concealed Dark wand, cancelled the wards which imprisoned him in the hospital wing, and left.
When he was gone, Rowena slumped back into her chair and buried her face in her trembling hands. Albus patted her comfortingly on the back and then left her alone with her thoughts.