This is a fanfiction based in J KR'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.
Severus and Rowena go on their first date together—and encounter the Malfoys. It could be volatile.
Chapter 7: First Date
Rowena spent much of Thursday sleeping, after being up all night with Severus in the hospital wing. But in the afternoon, she sought out Minerva. With her escort and feminine advice, she went to Hogsmeade and purchased a new dress for her 'date' the next day.
She was pleased to find that in spite of public appearances to the contrary, Minerva liked and respected Severus a great deal, friendly and sometimes heated House rivalry notwithstanding.
"He's had a hard life, Rowena," Minerva said gravely, as they strolled to the village at a leisurely pace. "Harder than I think any of us can understand. I do think he's too severe with the students, and I won't dispute the accusations of bias toward his own House, but then neither would he, so that should be no surprise.
"However, there is also no denying he has done a great deal for our side. I have a high degree of respect for him. Albus trusts him implicitly, which is enough for me. I think he chooses to be aloof to protect himself."
They had a fun day of shopping. Rowena was pleased with the dress, and with Minerva's kind words of encouragement.
On Friday, she spent the entire day in her rooms, mostly out of nerves. She didn't want to see him, or anyone else, while her emotions were in such turmoil.
She spent a great deal of time on her appearance, though part of her felt more than a little foolish for behaving like a love-sick schoolgirl. Her hair was the most time-consuming. In the end, she decided on a style that swept it up away from her face and neck, then let it cascade out of the top of the style to fall in ringlets just below her shoulders. It was a more mature look than she usually wore, with her neck gracefully revealed, and looked elegant without being too severe.
The dress was a deep, rich plum-coloured silk with elbow-length sleeves. The neckline was a gentle heart-shaped scoop, which accented a snug bodice. A decorative gather at the drop-waist collected the material before allowing it to fall gracefully into a long, full skirt. It was elegant in its simplicity, and the colour brightened her complexion.
She wore only the lightest brushes of makeup; she normally didn't pay much attention to her appearance, so she had very little confidence in applying it properly. The only jewelry she owned was the pearl necklace and earrings Remus had given her years ago, but she chose not to wear those.
At last she decided she was 'done' with her toilette and looked critically at her reflection in the mirror. She would never attain the graceful, elegant beauty of the likes of Narcissa Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange (back in the days before Azkaban, when she had been beautiful). Still, she decided she was reasonably attractive in her own way.
The knock at the door startled her out of her reverie, and with a pounding heart and shielded mind, she opened the door.
He was breathtaking! She could only stare for a moment in unabashed appreciation. Still in black, of course, but his dress robes were of a much finer cut and material than she had ever seen him wear. He still wore his clothing like a suit of armour, but today it looked more like a second skin. His black hair was clean and shiny, though still very fine and hung as lankly as it ever did. The cut of his shirt and robes displayed the definition of shoulders and waist. His fair skin, sharply chiseled features and prominent nose might not meet the average person's definition of 'handsome', but she had always thought him striking.
"Do you wish to stand there and gape at me all evening, Professor Lupin, or would you care to invite me inside?" he asked with sardonic amusement.
She blushed brilliantly and moved away from the door to allow him to enter, closing the door behind him. He stepped inside with his cat-like grace and turned instead to look at her. Her blush deepened at his silent visual appraisal, and her flesh tingled pleasantly as though his gaze had been a touch.
"Well, I dare say we will give Narcissa something to gossip about for weeks to come if nothing else, hmm? You look very nice, Professor," he said.
"So do you," she answered earnestly, though she sounded slightly breathless.
He scoffed derisively at this and his voice dripped in sarcasm. "I assure you, it is not necessary to feign interest in my physical appearance. Not even the Dark Lord would believe that. It is enough that he believes you enamoured of my intellect and ensnared by my scintillating personality."
She glared at him, hurt that he would start out the evening argumentatively, though she realised she oughtn't to be surprised by the behaviour.
"As there is no one here to try to convince, I would appreciate it if you would take me at my word. I've always found you attractive, as you surely know by now. You look particularly well this evening. Now, shall we go and get this over with?" she said brusquely. She turned to the door huffily.
He chided himself internally. It had been his sincere intention to attempt to decrease the unpleasantness of this charade as much as possible, but instead he had irritated her already. He placed a hand on the door, effectively holding it shut, and looked down at her.
"Listen, Lupin. This is going to be difficult at best. During the times in which we might be alone, like this, where no one else can see or hear us, I fully intend to drop any pretense, and would like you to do so as well.
"You intrigue me. If not for this current situation, I might have liked to find out why that is. This pretense complicates things greatly. I would like to be assured that when we are alone, you will not feign… anything, that you will be honest with me. I will do the same."
Her anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, and she nodded, blushing. She 'intrigued' him! That had to be a good thing, didn't it? Suddenly her heart was beating very fast, sounding like a bass drum in her ears. She found her courage and offered him an arch smile.
"Of course, Snape," she teased. "Are we to address each other by surnames, then?"
The corners of his mouth quirked a bit in the slightest of smiles, and he gave an even smaller bow of his head. "Touché, Rowena." He collected her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm as he led her out the door. "We will walk to Hogsmeade and Apparate to Diagon Alley."
The moment he touched her hand she felt as though she had been electrified, as though her body had somehow been wired or affected to feel sensations more fully. She held a little more tightly to his arm than was strictly necessary, in the attempt to still the trembling of her hand, and hoped he wouldn't notice. If he did notice, he made no sign.
The day was sunny and warm, and they strolled at a leisurely pace. Albus and Minerva watched them leave, smiling conspiratorially at each other, but unseen by the two young people.
"You seem skilled enough at your healing techniques, Rowena. What is the real reason you did not become a Healer when you chose not to become an Auror? Why you didn't become an Auror, for that matter?" he asked, by way of starting conversation. By rule, he tried never to initiate conversation with anyone unless necessary. None of his normal rules seemed to apply to this woman.
Besides, he was not completely satisfied with her earlier account on either topic, and wondered what spin she might put on it now.
"Are you fishing for more compliments, Severus? I suspect that you know at least part of the answers already," she said, smiling up at him with an air of affected suspicion.
He gave a noise of derision. "I hardly expect your answers to be the least bit complimentary. And I do have an idea of what they might be. But I would like to hear it from you."
She shrugged. "Okay then. I took care of Wilkes in the hospital, the summer before my final year; I think I told you that before? He didn't come out and say you were a Death Eater, but he showed me his mark, and implied it. That was enough for me.
"I was beginning to get cold feet about the Auror training before then, but I generally believe in forcing myself to face my fears rather than run away from them. I doubt my cowardice would have prevented me from at least taking the necessary tests to apply. It was the idea of actual combat, I think, that decided me in the end.
"I was not willing to place myself in the potential position of coming against you in a fight." She grinned mischievously at him, and added, "I would have been quite upset to have to hurt you."
He actually gave a very slight chuckle at this. "You do not seem to suffer from lack of confidence! Very well then, for some reason your fascination with me prevented your becoming an Auror. That is not a very safe career choice in the best of times, so I will not feign guilt that you did not pursue that goal. I may have indirectly saved your life. You have my leave to thank me later."
She laughed lightly and squeezed his arm. "Yes, Professor," she said teasingly.
He raised a brow at her, but his expression was one of mild amusement. "What about becoming a Healer? Why did you avoid that? You seem to like St. Mungo's, and I suspect you are skilled enough to have qualified for the training. Your Potions mark would not have hindered you much, I think."
She shrugged again. "Another side of the same coin. I saw more and more victims of the war, saw first hand what the Death Eaters had done, and found it… disturbing. I had even gotten to the point where I thought I could detect which poisons and acids were yours. No one else had the refined subtlety of your work… and that only bothered me more.
"I decided that accepting your participation on an intellectual basis was different from being able to handle it emotionally on a day-to-day level. It was hard to maintain my fantasy of your eventual redemption if I was continually reminded of what I viewed as your 'fall'.
"Then there was the fact that all bodies were funneled through my father's department. How many dead Death Eaters did I watch him have to identify? In the case of some of them, I actually helped make the identification because they had been classmates. Sometimes we had to do a great deal of gruesome reconstruction before we had something capable of being identified. I became constantly worried that the next one might be you…." She shuddered slightly at the recollection before she could continue.
"So, when I was offered the research position, it seemed ideal, and I have truly loved it, for the most part. More so when Fudge is not tying my hands, of course."
She fell silent, blushing slightly at her admissions, which gave him still more evidence of the intense nature of her fascination with him. There was no regret in the embarrassment, however. She wanted him to know the truth.
He was grave and thoughtful, causing the silence to stretch horribly. At last he spoke, but his voice had none of its usual sarcasm. Instead, there was self-disgust in every word.
"How is it possible that you know that I was a Death Eater, that you saw first-hand evidence of what I did, what I was capable of—what I am still capable of—and yet you are willingly here now? I don't know how to begin to fathom this."
He looked at her intently, boring his soul piercing gaze into her, as though he could understand if he could just see deeply enough. Almost without thought he reached his hand up to lay across her fingers where they curled on his arm. She had stopped trembling at some point during their walk, but he felt the tremor again as his hand touched hers. It was a strange, but not unpleasant experience to have a woman respond positively to him. Still, he could not understand her.
"You blush when I look at you, and tremble when I touch you. You claim to consider me a friend and stand up for me to others even when their accusations are well founded. How can this be, when I am constantly haunted by the specters of my past? How can you dismiss it all so easily? I don't know what to make of you."
She tightened her fingers briefly on his arm. Thoughtfully, she said, "I don't know why it is, Severus. How do any of these things happen? Something inside me recognised a kindred spirit in you that first day on the train: lonely, isolated, seeking refuge in solitude and books. It wouldn't have been hard for me to take a similar path.
"You seemed to me to have reason for your bitterness. Who had more justification for vengeance than you did? I saw what Potter and Black did to you. You aren't a person to willingly allow yourself to be humiliated and victimised without retaliation. Nor are you a person to use victim status as some sort of a badge or tool for manipulations. It seemed logical that you would turn to the largest promise of power, so that you could make them pay for what they did. I was more surprised that Remus escaped unscathed—I quite expected you to smite them all to the ground."
He looked at her, astonished, and his tone betrayed his surprise. "Bloody hell, you have a bloodthirsty imagination for a Ravenclaw! Did you really think I would kill them for schoolboy pranks? Oh… I admit, I longed to do-in Black. Our enmity ran far deeper than you can imagine. But Bellatrix insisted on that honour, and she attained it at last, did she not?
"The others fell beneath my notice as soon as I was out of school and out of contact with them. Even Potter. I would have gladly killed any of them, if they had stumbled across my path, but none of them were worth the effort to actively seek out.
"No, my lust for vengeance—and you are right, that is what drove me to Dark Magic—was wholly directed towards another. I slaked that lust almost immediately after joining the Death Eaters. I found, as I'm sure is often found, that the resolution of a long-held desire for vengeance is not nearly so satisfying as one expects."
He fell silent, remembering. That dissatisfaction had only increased his bitterness, and his whole-hearted participation in the Dark Lord's commands. Part of his bitterness, even now, stemmed from the wretched knowledge that he had no one to blame but himself. As Albus always said, it was a man's choices which make him what he is—and Severus' choices had been progressively more horrific.
For a while they walked in silence. She looked around and realised they were nearly to Hogsmeade, and opportunity for open conversation would then be at an end. For some reason, he seemed more communicative this evening than he had ever been with her before, perhaps in response to her honesty. It seemed the ideal opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging at her for years.
"What brought you back? Was it Lily?"
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her, frowning. "What has Lily Evans got to do with anything?"
She did not miss the fact that he did not refer to her as 'Lily Potter'.
"Well, I used to watch you all the time… and while I was watching you, you were watching her…."
He shook his head then, but made no move to continue walking. Perhaps he, too, was reluctant to leave this opportunity for some level of understanding.
"That requires complicated explanation. However, I think I would like you to know the truth of it."
He waved to a bench that was along the path between Hogsmeade and the school. As school was not yet in session, there was virtually no chance of anyone coming upon them, and he had certain knowledge that Pettigrew was currently on another errand.
She sat sideways, leaning against the arm of the bench so she could face him fully, and he sat similarly, so they were facing each other. Still, he looked mostly at his hands, or off in the distance, but rarely directly at her.
He was very silent for a long time, trying to sort his thoughts. Her honesty gave him the desire to repay in kind, and perhaps if she truly understood what he was, she would be more willing to end this dangerous game.
"Lily…. Do you know the Muggle Psychologist, Freud? He would have loved this. Lily fascinated me because she was much like my mother. Her physical appearance was remarkably similar, except the eye colour. And yet my mother was weak, where Lily was strong. Or at least that is what I believed for many years.
"She thwarted Potter's advances for years—she put him in his place more frequently and more thoroughly than anything I ever did. I respected that, and admired it. It was strength she had that my mother did not.
"My mother died because she refused to defend herself or leave a horrible situation, and claimed it was due to 'love' and wanting to 'protect' me. I believed she could have made both of ours lives better if she had only been stronger.
"Lily represented to me what my mother could have been. It was not a romantic fascination, but rather a fantasy of how my life could have been different, better. Once I gave myself fully to the Dark Magic, it no longer mattered. I would be powerful; I would never again be anyone's victim. My mother's actions no longer mattered. Lily Evans no longer mattered. Potter, Black, Pettigrew, your brother, they would all 'get theirs' and be sorry."
He made a derisive noise and looked away from her, his eyes distant as though remembering.
"But it was also the memory of my mother that 'brought me back' as you say, though I do not truly consider myself 'back' in any way. I told you once--unkindly, but honestly--that some actions are beyond forgiveness, some people are unforgivable. I am such a man."
She made a move to reach out to him, to say something to contradict him, but he raised his hand to stop her. It was as though now that he was speaking of this, he didn't want to stop until he had finished.
"When we learned of the Prophecy—and it was I who heard the partial recital of it, which started the Dark Lord's obsession to kill Harry Potter—he became obsessed with finding the parents before the child was even born. It was I that surmised Lily's child was one of the possibilities, very soon after they happily announced her pregnancy. I knew then that her motherly affection would lead her to do whatever she had to do to protect her child.
"In that instant, it was as though my mother was alive again and I had her fate and life in my hands. If I can be said to have ever had a moment of 'moral clarity' or an 'epiphany', if you like, it was then.
"Suddenly the people the Dark Lord wanted to exterminate or enslave stopped being useless 'Mudblood' or 'Muggle-loving' chattel and became again to me what they are, what they always should have been—human beings."
It was an unpleasant recollection, to recall that humiliating time in his life when he had permitted himself to wallow in a smothering stew of remorse and self-pity until he could not recognise himself. Only his indomitable will rescued him from that pit, converting those weaker emotions to a functional level of self-loathing, which still drove him to this day.
"I came to Dumbledore and confessed all, certain that he would send me to Azkaban to be Kissed by the Dementors immediately. He decided, instead, that I should be given a chance to help 'repay' the damage I caused, to 'redeem' myself—as though such thing is possible."
He scoffed and shook his head in derision, at least half of which she thought was self-directed. His voice was increasingly bitter as he continued. "I failed. I was unable to save Lily, and it was her sacrifice, her actions which saved the life of her son, not anything I did.
"So here I am. Mistrusted and loathed by nearly all, though none as much as they ought. I do what I have to do, because no one else can, and if I am killed at some point in the process, it is no less than I deserve."
He snorted again in self-mockery. "Is that quite maudlin enough for you, Rowena? Yet it is true, not the whole truth perhaps, but enough for you to know exactly what sort of person I am."
Now she did reach out to him, and gently took his hand, looking warmly into his eyes with compassion and understanding. Not pity—he was too strong to need her pity, but true compassion and empathy.
"I have always known what sort of person you are, Severus. I knew you would find your way back someday—and I do believe you to be 'back' regardless of what you say—because you were never truly one of them. Maybe in action and deed for a time, but not in your heart, not the core of yourself.
"You did something very wrong; I won't try and deny it or argue that point with you. On the other hand, anyone can make a mistaken choice—even a horrible one. Everyone deserves a second chance, no matter how terrible those mistakes might be—especially when a person is so willing to strive so much to make reparations. You need to allow yourself to believe in your own redemption, to forgive yourself."
He stood with brisk energy and pulled her with him, tucked her hand back in his arm, and recommenced walking towards Hogsmeade. He was angry again; his strides so long that she was again finding herself nearly trotting to keep up with him.
He snapped at her, "You are so idealistic, Lupin! We are not talking of 'mistakes'. I did not forget to steam my Asphodel before adding it to my infusion of Wormwood! I did not cheat on a Transfiguration exam. I did not steal a broomstick from the school shed. Those are MISTAKES!
"My creations have killed people, more times over than I can count or care to remember. There can be no 'reparations' for the things which I have done. The Dark Magic still beckons me like a lover, like a horrible addiction that I simultaneously loathe and long for. I will never be completely free of that."
She matched him tone for tone in exasperation, though her voice lost some of its force in breathlessness from the exertion of keeping up with him. "Of course you won't. It's part of who you are. It just means you have to be more aware and cautious than the average person with your future choices. Just because you have made poor choices in the past doesn't mean you will again. You doubt your own strength. I don't."
He slowed his strides to be a more comfortable walking pace for her, and then looked at her doubtingly. "I am not comfortable with the level of trust you seem to wish to place upon me. I do not deserve it, I do not desire it, and I certainly would not advise it. You do not know me nearly so well as you think you do, Rowena, and misplaced trust can be a very dangerous thing."
"Warning duly noted. However, as I am an adult and capable of making my own decisions, you will forgive me if I do not take your advice. You are quite correct that one of us does not know you as well as he or she thinks—I don't believe it is I."
He snorted in disgust and shook his head, but said nothing more. They had arrived at Hogsmeade, and he seemed more than a little relieved. The entire conversation had gotten completely out of hand, and delved much more deeply into murky territory of… emotion… than he was at all comfortable dealing with.
Now, at least, he would have ample excuse to slip back into the comfortable, cold reclusively he had worn like a shield for most of his life. His face was closed; his black eyes inscrutable once again as he placed his hand over hers where it still rested in the crook of his arm.
"Allow me. We go to Diagon Alley."
When she nodded, he Apparated both of them away.
They appeared on the sidewalk outside a fancy-appearing restaurant, "The Black Dragon", and he sedately guided her inside.
It was elegant and refined, tastefully decorated in muted hues. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling to provide soft, subdued lighting. It was equally suited to small, romantic dinners as to large parties for special occasions. In one corner a string quartet played softly. The tables were arranged with plants, trellises, and other similar dividers so that even though it was a large room with many tables, each one had the air of semi-privacy. Some of the plant arrangements boasted fountains, gently gurgling in the background.
A very stuffy, formal appearing Maitre d' greeted them at once upon entering the building. Rowena was engrossed in looking around the room, so she barely noticed when Severus said simply, "Reservations for Severus Snape."
They were led to a small, centrally located table. It had the same air of semi-privacy as the rest, but she noticed it had a clear view of the door. This effectively gave the appearance, for their little game, of wanting to be in solitude and unnoticed, yet assuring that if anyone arrived who ought to see… well, they could hardly miss seeing.
A very expensive bottle of champagne was brought to their table at once, and two beautiful flutes were filled wordlessly. They were then handed heavy parchment menus, and the Maitre d' bowed and left. Rowena surmised that the champagne had been previously arranged as well, since she had not seen Severus request it, nor the waiter offer it.
She looked at him curiously, but he was already studiously examining his menu—which she thought was a ruse to avoid her glance. Apparently he had been here often enough before to be quite familiar with it, though she had never been here or even noticed it.
He finally gave up on the menu and looked at her sardonically. Some of his previous anger seemed to have dissipated, at least for the present, though his voice was the familiar sarcastic bitterness that was his norm.
"I rather thought something extravagant was in order. It is not everyday a man goes on his first real 'date' at the age of thirty-seven, regardless of the reasons. Now, is your menu in a language foreign to you, or can you manage by yourself?"
She blushed again at his piercing gaze and glanced at her menu—it was thankfully in English, though, for a moment, she expected it to be in French. "I've never been in here before. You don't really expect me to believe you've never dated, do you?"
He was scowling again and no longer looking at her, but back at the menu. "Believe what you wish, Miss Lupin. You know enough to reason it out on your own, if you so choose. If not for the pureblood name of 'Snape' I would have no claim to any rational woman's interest or attentions. As I refuse to be used for such a convenience, having no desire to carry on the name myself, there is little point in dating.
"As for not having been here before, I should think not. Once you have decided on your meal choice, look around you and observe. You will understand at once, I am certain."
He then lapsed into silence, though she was smiling, trying not to laugh at the couched insult, 'no claim to any rational woman's interest or attentions'. So, he considered her irrational, did he? She found it amusing.
The menu was full of gourmet dishes of every sort. Her own tastes rarely extended into the exotic, but she at last found something that appealed to her and closed her menu. He did the same, and raised an eyebrow at her expectantly. She realized this was one of those sorts of places in which the man was expected to place the order, and while a small rebellious urge struck her to insist on placing it herself, she decided not to spoil his 'first' date.
"The filet mignon, medium-rare, with salad and steamed vegetables, please."
He nodded and gave her a rather feral grin. His tone was approving but teasing as he said, "Ah, a lady who appreciates a little blood with a good steak. Nice choice."
"Filet mignon should never be over-cooked," she said, defensively.
"Indeed."
He was looking at her rather triumphantly, as though he suspected her independent nature rebelled against his ordering for her. She looked away and found to her dismay that she had allowed her Occlumency discipline to relax. Steeling herself, she returned his gaze with an arch look.
He leaned forward conspiratorially, as a suitor might if he wanted to speak and not risk being overheard. His face was its usual impartial mask, but she leaned forward as well to hear him. His tone was scolding and reproachful.
"You relax your Occlumency when you are angry or annoyed, Rowena. This is the same problem Potter has, and will likely prove dangerous to you both. In your case, weakness in your defences could adversely affect me. I expect now that you are aware of the situation, you will strive to rectify it."
If she had been mildly annoyed before, she was genuinely angry now, and leaned back, affronted. But she held his gaze so that he could see that she was capable of maintaining her discipline.
"I don't usually relax my defences for anyone," she said angrily.
That wasn't entirely true. Until she had met him again, it had been years since she had felt the need to use her Occlumency with any regularity. But, when she did use it, she generally maintained it without trouble. She continued without pause, lest he realise the exaggeration.
"It just so happens that I trust you, and haven't been guarding myself closely enough."
"Indeed," he said again. "I have warned you against that as well. I am not a man to be trusted."
She sniffed and looked away, refusing to resume that circular conversation. Instead she looked about the room, at the other patrons she could see from her seat. At once she understood why she had never been here or even noticed it before; she drew in her breath sharply.
This beautiful, elegant restaurant was full of Dark Wizards. There was no real identifying feature, but there were mannerisms and style of dress that made her instinctively suspicious. By Severus's advice as to the length of her sleeves, she even rather fancied she could guess who were Death Eaters and who were simply 'allies'. Worse, a few women here alone with men had the semi-blank look of someone possibly under the influence of the Imperious Curse. She was horrified, but attempted to conceal it when she looked back at him.
"Just so," he said, in answer to her unspoken comment. "That is the common means for Death Eaters to obtain willing female companionship.
"Another piece to your 'Severus Snape, and why he has not dated' puzzle, hmm? I am just arrogant enough not to wish companionship that must be coerced," he said dryly.
She noticed several of the occupants of other tables were also looking at them. Severus exchanged the briefest of nods with a few of these, who returned the acknowledgement with a variety of leering grins and smirks. She was embarrassed in the extreme.
She hadn't known that being seen with Severus in this role would feel so degrading, as though she was nothing more than a common strumpet he had picked up off the street. This is precisely what he had objected against and warned her of when he was arguing with Dumbledore, of course. She had insisted, so now she needed to play the role as she agreed.
To that effect, she studiously focused her attention on Severus, forcing herself to imagine that this was a genuine 'date', and pretend he was here because he wanted to be here, not because of a sinister 'assignment'.
The waiter came and Severus placed their orders. She then picked up her as of yet untouched champagne and held it up. In a playful tone, she toasted him.
"Well, then, to Severus Snape and the very great honour he has bestowed upon me, to allow me to be the woman chosen, in all the world, to share his first date."
He snorted, but picked up his glass and clinked it gently with hers, stating wryly, "To Rowena Lupin, the only woman in all the world who would consider such a thing an honour."
She laughed lightly and drank. It was delicious, cold and crisp. The warmth of the alcohol filled her and allowed her to relax and be slightly less nervous. She maintained her expression of warm interest—not at all a pretense on her part, and asked lightly, "So, what does the esteemed Hogwarts Potions master do in his spare time? You can't always be brewing potions or escorting hapless scientists to theatrical productions. Do you write poetry and sonnets for your lovers? Play Quidditch? Have a secret fascination for Muggle literature?"
He actually chuckled at this, a rich, rumbling sound from deep within his chest. It was a pleasant sound that warmed her far more than the champagne.
"Can you really imagine me writing poetry? Ridiculous! Perhaps an ode to my cauldron might be in order?"
She laughed, too. He smirked before continuing. "I do not, as you well know, play Quidditch. I do follow the Falmouth Falcons rather closely but I rarely attend games.
"As far as literature, I have a fascination for all literature, Muggle or not. Of course, in certain company I am considered rather rude and uncouth for the Muggle portion of that. As I am primarily considered to be an unpleasant git in general, in all the circles I traverse, that opinion is of no concern.
"I believe you are aware that I share similar tastes in music as you do, though you seem to lean towards Mozart, while I prefer Bach, and can only stomach Beethoven intermittently."
His intense gaze rarely left her eyes as he spoke. It was a very heady thing, to have his attention so wholly focused upon her.
"And so you? What are your interests besides fiendishly complex maths and orphaned waifs?"
"Reading," she said at once. "I devour any book I can get my hands on. I love Poe, have a real fondness for the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, and enjoy Shakespeare greatly. I also like the lighter materials of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. I do the volunteer work at St. Mungo's, play wizard chess at every opportunity, and then otherwise keep pretty much to myself and my research."
A very cultured female voice broke over them just then. "Oh, how positively charming! Severus, darling, how very quaint to see you here like this, with a fellow professor if I have my information correct? It's Professor Rowena Lupin, now, is it not? How lovely to see you again, Rowena, dear.
"You know, if you didn't like poor Orion, you could have just asked me to arrange a little meeting with Severus. He's been a dear family friend for so many years, I'm sure I could have managed something. How many years have you had your wand lit for him? I suppose it was cruel of me not to do something about it long ago, but honestly I didn't think you were quite his type."
Narcissa Malfoy was standing over their table, a warm smile on her face that did nothing to hide the maliciousness of her general character. She was positively gorgeous, causing Rowena to immediately feel like a plain, drab sparrow next to an elegant swan. It was impossible not to feel jealous of the other woman's beauty, regardless of the personality underneath.
The Malfoy Matriarch was perfection personified—not a line on her face or a hair out of place, wearing a strapless, elegant black dress, which hugged her slender form seductively, as though painted onto her flesh. She wore a choker of large diamonds around her neck and matching ones dripped from her ears. They glittered as coldly as her eyes. Her hand was tucked delicately through the arm of her husband, Lucius, who was surveying the two seated diners with sardonic amusement.
Rowena met the attack with a warm smile of her own, accompanied by an inquiring expression and a mildly sarcastic tone. "I wasn't aware of appointing you my social secretary, Narcissa. I don't need your help in arranging my private life, but I do thank you for your concern."
Narcissa gave a high little laugh. "Oh, Rowena, you are too droll. Of course you need my assistance, dear, or you might end up with some Mudblood or worse. You are on dangerous grounds as a half-blood yourself, you know. The Snape line is too long and pure to be tainted with a half-blood. You had best set your sights lower, soon. You aren't getting any younger. Tick-tock, tick-tock."
This was an empty warning, as wizard life spans and fertility last much longer than Muggles', but one that Narcissa enjoyed using nonetheless. Rowena scoffed and tried to look disdainful, in spite of her inner insecurities.
"Honestly, Narcissa. How is it that one friendly outing translates to 'setting my sights'? What business is it of yours?" she asked coolly.
Lucius spoke then, his voice equally cultured, with added silk to the tones as one who is accustomed to being listened to. His smile hid more than his wife's did, as though he was more in practise of appearing genuinely warm and friendly. He was also handsomely and expensively attired; his silver-blond hair as perfect as Narcissa's
"Narcissa, love, where are your manners? Severus, it is quite a pleasant surprise to see you in feminine company. I do hope you will allow me to encourage you to bring your lovely companion to our Summer Fete?"
He then turned his perfect smile upon Rowena. "We enjoy hosting balls at our home upon occasion. It allows the opportunity to be surrounded by our friends in a more casual environment. Severus rarely attends, and never in company. As my lovely wife says, he has been a close family friend for many years. Please forgive her insinuations as to your heritage. Any friend of Severus' is a friend of ours."
Severus at last took this as his cue for introductions, having observed with interest how Rowena would handle herself against the two Malfoys, she blatant and he subtle.
"Lucius, this is Professor Rowena Lupin, as Narcissa has said. She has been given the newly created teaching position of 'Magical Theory and Research'. Rowena, you already know Narcissa. This is Lucius Malfoy, her husband and a long time ally of Snape House."
Lucius gave a small, rich laugh and extended his hand, which Rowena accepted. "Ah, Severus, always the cautious one. I do not believe, Professor Lupin, that I have ever heard him refer to anyone as 'friend'. Quite tiresome, don't you agree?"
"I wouldn't presume, Mr. Malfoy, to make recommendations to Severus as to whom to call 'friend'," she said with careful politeness.
He chuckled again, still gripping her hand gently, and replied, "Please, you must call me Lucius, Professor. I think I begin to see now some of your appeal to Severus. He has never had much in the way of a true supporter, and every man needs at least one, don't you agree?"
"I do indeed, Lucius. Please call me Rowena."
He bowed over her hand. "Rowena, then. I'm glad to see my friend has found such support, regardless of whether he feels he needs it." Then, smilingly, he would have kissed her hand, except she pulled it away rather abruptly.
He frowned at the action, his fair skin rapidly flushing red with anger. It was obvious that here was a man that could swing to sudden rages in an instant and was not accustomed to being rejected in any way. For a moment, she was genuinely frightened, though she did not drop his gaze and tried hard not to betray her fear to him.
Narcissa, surprisingly, diffused the situation by placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Come, Darling, you didn't think you would get by with that after all I've told you? I am surprised she allowed you to touch her hand! She is quite the frigid little creature. She has that burning, shocking thing she has done to nearly anyone who tries to touch her. She paid you quite the compliment in shaking hands."
He allowed himself to be mollified, though he still gave Rowena a dark look as he bowed to them. With Narcissa's insistent tugging on his arm, they went away.
Rowena released the breath that she didn't realise she had been holding, and looked at Severus. He was looking at her appraisingly, a small smile playing about his lips.
"It is rather dangerous to annoy Lucius," he said dryly.
"It is rather dangerous to attempt to kiss me when I don't want it, even if it was just my hand," she retorted, equally dryly, though she clasped her hands together on her lap so that he wouldn't see them trembling. The altercation had frightened her more than she'd care to admit.
"Burning? Shocking? What surprises do you hide in that tiny frame, Rowena? What stories has Narcissa been able to tell Lucius, which make him believe it is a compliment just to be allowed to shake your hand?"
She gave him a small, mischievous smile, but her eyes were clouded by recollections. "My first research project—and one that I have never documented or shared with anyone—was to address my overwhelming fear at the time. The assault from Warrington left me feeling angry and vulnerable, and I determined it wouldn't happen again. So….
"Navitas texi," she said, a wandless incantation, and then held out her hand to Severus.
"Don't grab my hand, but touch it lightly," she instructed.
He reached out with a curious expression on his face, and immediately jerked his hand back as though burnt. Looking at it closely, he saw he was uninjured, but the shock had been quite unpleasant.
"I got the idea from the fence around the family farm. My mum's parents are Muggles. My granddad used electric fence to keep the cattle in the fields. It's harmless to touch it, but the shock is very unpleasant, and so they avoid it. I can cast that at any time, even if I can't reach my wand, as long as I can speak. It won't negate, even if I am unconscious, until I negate it. That could be a safety risk I realise, but I have no intention to change it.
"I can also increase the intensity so that it will cause damage and burns, which I have only occasionally had to do with the more persistent. Many of Narcissa's 'friends' she has sent my way have left either shocked or burned, and occasionally both."
He nodded approvingly. "Well, that leaves me with less concern for your physical safety than I have been. I'm afraid that whether you realise it or not, we are now committed to attending the Malfoy's 'Summer Fete'. You may find you have need of that trick before it is over."
She sighed and nodded. "I'll have to have Minerva help me shop again. I'm sure I have nothing appropriate. I'll need just the right dress to bolster my confidence enough to keep me from feeling so much the mouse amongst the serpents!"
He gave a small smile again and shook his head. "You will indeed be among serpents, but anyone who takes you for a mouse will be dangerously mistaken. Small and innocent you may appear, Miss Lupin, but you hide a great deal more surprises than I have given you credit for."
She blushed at the praise, and was grateful that their meal arrived then. More serious conversation gave way to discussion of literature. Severus took great pleasure in deriding her over her enjoyment of the works of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters.
"I had not imagined you, the Rational Ravenclaw, to be enamoured with romances. Do tell, which amongst those works are your favourites? I have been told, by the simpering strumpets who want my name and what little recognition that accompanies it, that I bear strong resemblance to the Heathcliff character in that Wuthering Heights book.
"I have read it, though it was a long, hard slog and had quite an unsatisfactory ending…"
"You have read Wuthering Heights?" she asked incredulously.
"I am Head of Slytherin House, Rowena," he said, apparently affronted. "I take my duties very seriously. The parents of my students depend upon me to be the guardian of their children. Nothing enters my House without my knowledge. I have read every scrap of revolting, unimaginative literature that has ever passed through the door to my House. I have listened to every mawkish, vapid song—Muggle or wizarding."
He nodded at her look of shock.
"Yes, you may well pity me for this. It is all the more horrific when you understand that I am blest with prodigious recollection. I have the grave misfortune of remembering every lyric, every grating note.
"I'm sure, if I sincerely wanted an ode to my cauldron, I could find the proper verses for one somewhere in the vast caverns of my memory, without having to go to any trouble on my own," he said with playful sarcasm.
"You actually… what… go through the students' belongings?" she asked, trying to stifle a giggle.
"Not all of Slytherin's reputation is undeserved. As Head of House it is my duty to be aware of what occurs within," he said dismissively.
"So why does Slytherin still have such a reputation if you've been watching them so hawkishly for the last sixteen years?" she asked with genuine interest.
"Almost seventeen, thank you. It is my duty to know what occurs within my House, Rowena. It is not necessary to stop it." He gave her a wicked smirk, which was rewarded with more giggles.
"Okay, then I want to hear what you were going to say about Wuthering Heights," she said, leaning forward with interest. "Some people have compared you to Heathecliff?"
He nodded, haughtily. "I find the comparison insulting. I dare say if I had gone to all that trouble to exact vengeance, I would not have quit it at the very moment of its fruition."
Rowena laughed again and nodded. "Yes, well that's not one of my favourites, anyway. I find it very depressing. If he really loved her, he wouldn't have wanted revenge. If she had really loved him, she wouldn't have married someone else. They were both childish, selfish, and cruel to each other, and then surprised when the other one behaved the same way."
His voice was thick with true sarcasm when he responded, "But isn't that the very essence of love? Jealousy, possessiveness, cruelty, selfishness—what else is there that defines the emotion? I don't see the appeal of it. It is a weak emotion that weakens both the lover and the object of the love. It causes pain and worry and fretfulness. Grand gestures and horrible sacrifices, and all for what? To be able to say that one 'loves'?
"I have never yet seen a benefit in that emotion, at least not to the one who claims to feel it. Perhaps the object of the love benefits. Potter was saved by his mother's love. But what did she gain out of it? She is dead. She could have saved herself and had other children.
"It seems to me to waste a great deal of time and energy, and cause a great deal of pain and angst, to chase after this nefarious thing dubbed 'love'. Ridiculous."
She offered a weak smile and shook her head. "Some people find great happiness in love, Severus. Look at the Weasleys. My parents. Most people find comfort and strength in their loved ones, but I won't try to argue you out of your opinion. I'm no expert on the subject, and am inclined to agree with you that it's probably more trouble than it's worth for most people. I do believe that love—true love in the best and noblest sense—does exist. I just think it's incredibly rare, and people do spend too much time chasing its shadow."
He raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. "So then which of those noble and weighty works is your favourite?"
"Pride and Prejudice," she said, without hesitation.
He gave a derisive laugh and smirked at her. "Ah, yes, and that work is not the least bit irrational or romantic! Come, Miss Lupin. You may as well admit belief in fairy tales and have done. It is a more interesting read than the other work, I will grant you, but I think the other is more honest to human nature. You are a romantic; I would not have pegged you so."
She smiled back and said, archly, "And you are a cynic, but I knew that at once. I think Austen's book is far more true to human nature. You forget whom you have been spending most of your time with. In your work you're with hormonal adolescents who are convinced that every emotion they feel is life threatening, and that they are the only ones who have ever felt it. In your…. leisure, such as it is, you are with a group of adults who don't exactly have a pleasant world view.
"I think perhaps you should at least concede this point to me—your life-experience leaves you a poor judge of the truth of the matter. Not that my experience is all that great, but I have socialized more with 'average' people than you have."
"I will concede no such thing," he said dryly. "I accept the title of cynic with honour, and will continue to be such until the world proves otherwise. At least in that way I face no disappointments. You should take care of the pitfalls of your romanticism."
"Oh, I do, Professor," she said, teasingly, mimicking his words back to him. "I accept the title of romantic with honour, and will continue to do so until the world proves otherwise."
They continued to converse in this style with spirit and sharp teasing, neither giving an inch, and both finding enjoyment in the debate, until the meal was complete and it was time to proceed to the theatre.
The production of the play was splendid. The acting troop was an excellent one; the scenery and scene changes handled with the smooth grace of true professionals who also had the benefit of magic. It was one of Rowena's favourite comedies by the Bard, and to see it done so well was an especially fine treat. Even Severus managed the rare snort of humour, though far be it for him to be seen to actually laugh in public.
The only cloud to the event was the presence of the Malfoys, who had also attended. But as the intermission was blessedly short, and Lucius had other more important acquaintances to socialise with, they were spared any further conversation with them at that time. Rowena did notice that Narcissa frequently glanced their way.
She took care to maintain her role as doting admirer, often smiling warmly at Severus during particularly humourous passages of the play. He maintained a resolutely bored countenance, and if he met her smiles, it was to give her a look of thinly disguised derision. She was annoyed with herself to find that she felt hurt by the apparent indifference, and kept telling herself that he also needed to maintain the pretense. The problem was, it was impossible to tell whether he was feigning the indifference, or if it was genuine. This was going to be far more difficult than she had bargained for!
When it was over, and the troop had received all the accolades by repeated curtain calls that were their due for such a fine performance, he stood and offered her his arm. For all his claimed inexperience with women, he had the refined grace of a true courtier when he wished to make the effort to display it.
She smiled warmly at him again when she took his arm, and he met her eyes with an unguarded look of sincere interest, though it was gone in an instant and he was again inscrutable to her. Imperceptibly to all but herself, he tightened his arm against his side for the briefest moment, as though to squeeze her hand in reassurance.
Lucius and Narcissa approached them as they were leaving, and Severus firmly resumed his air of cold indifference.
"Severus, Rowena, did you enjoy the production? It was quite entertaining, don't you agree?" Lucius asked smoothly.
Severus scoffed. "The performers were adequate, considering the material. The basic premise of the play is flawed. Much of Shakespeare is tolerable, but I do not care for this particular work."
Lucius laughed lightly, as did Narcissa, though it was she who spoke. "I'm sure, Severus. You prefer the tragedies. You can't believe that love could cause such a transformation, right? Not only in her from shrew to obedient wife, but in him from indifferent master to adoring husband. It's quite sappy, of course, dear. But it is funny and romantic, just the thing for a lovely date. Very quaint." This last statement was said with an inquiring, piercing gaze at Rowena.
Rowena saw the questions in the cool blue eyes, and decided it was time to play the role of besotted admirer to the hilt. She smiled radiantly at Lucius and Narcissa, and then cast Severus an almost adoring glance.
"Oh, yes. It was a lovely play. It's one of my favourite comedies. It was ever so nice of Severus to invite me to come. I've had a lovely evening."
Lucius gave Severus a knowing smile and slight nod, and Narcissa laughed again with her false, polite laugh. She took Rowena's arm and led her a few steps away from the gentlemen before speaking again in low tones. "You've set your sights on the ice man, you know, dear. Do be cautious. I wish you all the best of luck. Maybe you have the key to melt him."
Rowena pretended the air of someone receiving genuine advice from a friend, and smiled again radiantly. "I know he can be aloof, but I know that hard exterior houses a caring man on the inside, Narcissa. He just needs the right woman to care about him, to help him bring that out."
She almost choked on the sappiness of her own drivel, and wanted to laugh at what Severus would think of such a declaration. Narcissa, however, was plainly delighted, as that was obviously what she wished to hear. She looked as though she was dying to burst into mocking laughter, but quickly schooled her face into a look of friendly concern.
"I hope you're right, Rowena. I would so love to see both of you happy. If you can find happiness together, well, so much the better." She then looked away as though the effort to fight off laugher was almost too much, and taking Rowena's arm walked back towards the gentlemen.
Lucius in the meantime had been speaking to Severus in carefully couched phrases. "It seems you wasted no time in your directive. I only wish Narcissa had shared the secret earlier. The girl is plainly smitten with you, friend. You should have no trouble with your task."
"So it would seem," was all Severus deigned to reply.
"I'm sure no one would hold it against you if you managed to enjoy yourself in the process," Lucius added with a suggestive leer.
Severus straightened a bit at this and cast Lucius a dark look. "I am not doing this to 'enjoy myself', Lucius. I have an assignment, that is all."
Lucius raised his hands in mock defence. "Of course, Severus. As long as you obtain the desired result, no one cares how it's done. She is attractive enough, and practically throwing herself at you. Don't refuse the offer before considering it. You might even allow her to enjoy it as well if you chose. On the other hand, sometimes the fight is half the fun."
"Lucius, please do not include me in any more information as to your own proclivities. I would rather not know more than I already do."
The blond man laughed at this. His laugh was a rich, warm sound, the result of many years of careful practice and training, and belied the true cruelty and evil behind it.
"Suit yourself, my friend. But I assure you, if you do not take what is offered, there will be others waiting in line for the remainders. Many of her old admirers will be at the Fete. Stake your claim, or be prepared to have others try."
He raised a brow and looked sternly at Lucius. "I desire no claim on the girl. You know my purpose. You also know my opinions in regards to the crass methods of other of our associates. She will be left alone as long as I am on the case, or the offending parties will answer to me."
Lucius gave him a mocking smile, a slight nod, and then stepped away as the women approached. Narcissa took his arm with the easy grace of long familiarity, while Rowena blushed in embarrassment as she timidly took Severus' arm, which he offered with perfect indifference.
"Good evening, Lucius, Narcissa." Severus bowed his head slightly, with bored politeness. Without waiting for their response, he placed his hand over Rowena's and Apparated them back to Hogsmeade.