Fanfiction based in the world of Harry Potter, created by JKR. Her characters are hers. Original characters are mine. No pecuniary rewards. Please see first chapter for full disclaimers and description.

Author's Notes and answers to questions/comments left in reviews can now be found in my LiveJournal account so as not to disrupt the flow of the story for the reader. I am weasleyfan at and anyone may read my journal, though one must be logged-in to leave a comment there.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

Chapter 39: Trials and Tribulations
There was little time to worry over perspectives, child-like or otherwise, in the weeks which followed Katrina's 'solution' to her most pressing concerns. The school was a-bustle with wedding preparations, even though they were intended to be secret, no different than all such 'secrets' at Hogwarts.

Severus continued his attentions to Rowena, and even managed one amicable game of chess and a few stolen half-hours of conversation in her office or his. They were both discreet enough that they had been unseen by anyone else.

Most of his 'spare' time, however, was spent in secretive brewing away from the castle. He was often gone from evening and weekend meals, and had not overseen any detentions since before Easter. He rarely needed attention from Poppy Pomfrey, though he did occasionally submit to Rowena's charm to soothe Cruciatus damage.

She was still wary and aloof with him, but she smiled occasionally in his presence, and even attempted something of the teasing banter of friendship. It was by no means a relaxed relationship, but it was something, and as near as he could tell, no one knew of it, not even Katrina, who remained annoyed that he hadn't figured out how to "pologize" properly yet.

Rowena was not surprised at Remus's offer to adopt the little girl. Katrina had become very much a part of the family, and all of the Lupins would be devastated if strangers adopted her. It seemed a viable alternative, though she and Severus decided it was best to let Katrina get used to the idea gradually.

Severus stopped returning to Hogwarts via his Portkey to the hospital wing. His attendance at Order Meetings became sporadic. Dumbledore tightened security and began to imply that he thought there was a leak in their ranks. He deliberately avoided discussing the more sensitive topics at those meetings that Severus attended.

Personal uncertainty and apathy aside, Rowena was incensed at what she viewed as Albus's betrayal of Severus just when Severus needed the votes of confidence the most. She was also concerned that the reason Severus no longer Portkeyed to the hospital wing was that perhaps Albus had not reactivated his device.

Harry's angry accusations after a particularly intense Occlumency Lesson did nothing to assuage her worries.

"Harry, I really think you should speak with the Headmaster about training with someone else," she said tiredly as she rubbed her aching temples. "You haven't learned anything new from me in ages, and I'm not strong enough to give you any genuine test of your skills."

"No," he said sulkily as he sat down in the chair opposite her. He had grown considerably over the year so that his lanky limbs sprawled like a newborn colt's. "Dumbledore will just want me to work with Snape, and there's no way I'm doing that again. Especially not now."

Something in his tone piqued her interest and she looked up, ignoring her headache. "Why especially not now?"

"C'mon. I know you've noticed it. He's always been a git, but lately he's a thousand times worse. Even Dumbledore doesn't trust him all the way anymore. The worst thing is that Voldemort trusts him more."

"Harry James Potter," she snapped, shocked and angry, "You weren't supposed to DO that anymore! If you're in You-Know-Who's thoughts, He could be making you see and believe whatever He wants you to. You have no way of knowing what's true or not. You can't be certain He doesn't use that opportunity to seek information from you. The Headmaster has trusted you and you are betraying that trust!"

"Yeah? Well, no one tells me anything," Harry said angrily. "At least when I'm seeing Voldemort's thoughts, I have an idea of what's going on. You know what He's doing? He's got Snape brewing him some sort of potion so he can be immortal again. Well, not immortal I suppose, since there's no Philosopher's Stone anymore; but whatever it was that Snape did for him before. Whatever Voldemort used so that he didn't die when his curse on me rebounded. Did you know Snape was the one who did that before? Snape is the reason Voldemort didn't die all the way when he tried to kill me the first time, and now he's doing it again.

"I'm supposed to kill Voldemort, supposed to be the bloody savior of the wizarding world, and here's Snape spending hours over a stinking cauldron to do everything he can to make sure that doesn't happen. There's no way I'm getting any nearer to that git than I have to."

"Harry, I won't do these lessons with you anymore," she said decisively. She stood and walked to her door, opening it brusquely and gesturing for him to leave. "I will be informing Albus Dumbledore that you have continued to do the exact opposite of what you've been instructed to do. I sincerely hope he's able to put you to work with someone who can get through to you. If you continue to be this reckless and defiant to everyone who's trying to help you, I don't see how you can possibly survive the outcome of this war, even if you never have to face You-Know-Who again.

"Please leave."

Her heart was pounding anxiously in her chest as she tried to assimilate what she had been told. Harry scowled at her as he left, and said nothing more. As soon as he was gone, she went through her private doors to the staff corridor and down to the dungeons. She needed to speak with Severus.

Unfortunately, he was not in the dungeons. Distractedly, she wandered the castle, looking for him in all the likely places. She didn't inquire after him to any of the teachers she encountered. She didn't want to draw notice to the fact that she was looking for him, or even cared where he was. After the better part of an hour, she had to admit he was not in the building.

The severed Bond had become little more than a constant dull ache after weeks of his subtle attentions. It still had moments of intensity, but they were becoming fewer and farther between. However, it was also by no means healed, and she could not 'feel' him through it as she had once been able to do. Moreover, it had been quite uncomfortable all evening, which only increased her concern.

A small traitorous part of her mind reminded her that Hermione's research on the Bond did mention the possibility of various detrimental effects to the mental, emotional, and magical stability of the individuals involved in a breaking, from the few cases that had been documented. She had never doubted Severus's motivations before now, but her inner turmoil caused her to doubt her own judgement. Was the broken Bond affecting it? Or perhaps it was affecting his ability to resist the lure of the addiction? Didn't he once tell her that Dark Magic was like an addiction from which he would never be wholly free?

She needed to see him. She felt somehow that she would be able to tell the truth of the matter if she could just see him. Unable to find him in the castle, her restlessness would not allow her to fret and wait back in her quarters. Instead she walked outside and paced through the grounds with brisk energy. The spring evening was warm and clear, and still well lit by the vibrant glowing colors of the setting sun.

However, the last fading streaks of pink and violet trailed across the darkening sky like fingers trying to catch the stars, when at last she saw a dark-cloaked figure walk painfully through the gates that led from Hogsmeade. She ran across the grounds to meet him, though she didn't call out to draw his attention. She didn't need the sharp stab of the Bond to recognize his stride, even at a distance.

He was staying to the shadows of the forest, clearly trying to remain unseen. Before she reached him, he leaned heavily against a tree and wretched violently, repeatedly, vomiting into the shrubbery at the base of the tree. She ran faster, withdrawing her wand and lighting it softly so that she could see the extent of his injuries.

"Lumos. Severus? It's me… let me help you," she whispered softly when she was near enough to see him. She got only the briefest glimpse of a blood-soaked cloak when he waved his own wand at her.

"Nox!" he hissed, and her lit wand went out. His voice snarled at her from the darkness, "If you wish to help me, leave me alone!"

"You're hurt! You're sick! The blood! You need help!" She tried to move closer to him but he recoiled further into the shadows.

"By the gods, woman, leave me alone," he spat. Then, seeing that she was still advancing toward his location he groaned almost helplessly, like a wounded animal. "Rowena… please. I'm not… It's not… the blood is not mine. I do not wish to discuss it. Just… go."

She froze where she stood and tried to peer at him through the dark shadows of the trees. His cloak seemed to absorb what little light there was, so that he appeared to be a thing of shadows himself.

His Death Eater cloak. Blood that was not his. Harry's ugly accusations and suspicions. Dumbledore's apparent distrust. It seemed that either he was being forced somehow into a deeper level of subterfuge than before, or he truly had betrayed them. There were shades of gray within either of those options as well, of course, but she had never experienced distrust of him so starkly before. It was as though an utter stranger stood before her. Dark and dangerous, covered in the gore of some unknown crime and trying to sneak unnoticed back inside the school.

Who was this man? Had she really once trusted him so implicitly? Even after knowing he was capable of murder in the past, had seen him do it before her very eyes, and knew he would be capable of it again?

As though he could read her thoughts more clearly than he had been able to in months, his silken tones reverberated from the depths of the shadows. His voice lost all trace of the distress of a moment before. Instead, it sounded almost lazy, triumphant.

"I am a Death Eater, Lupin," he said smoothly. "Need you any more confirmation?"

She caught the slightest glimpse of what she knew was his wand arm raising amidst the twisted shadows of the trees, and without another word, she turned on her heel and fled.

He used secret tunnels and passageways that few knew besides himself, many of which had altered so much since the time of the blasted Marauder's Map that even Potter and his friends would be hard pressed to find them. It was sufficient to get him to the solitude of his quarters unseen by anyone else. It was awful enough that he had already been seen by the one person that he felt least prepared to face.

Tonight had been a 'test'; one of the worst that he had yet been forced to endure. He had thought to merely work on the potion and return, but he knew by now never to expect anything so peaceful where the Dark Lord was concerned. He thought he was prepared to face and ignore whatever amusement occurred.

How wrong he was.

Lucius obtained the entertainment for the evening, but their Lord added a cruel twist to the game. One of the Dark Lord's other Potions Masters had assisted in the preparations.

The situation itself was nothing new. He would enter the room, intent on nothing but the potion. His fellow Death Eaters would revel in rape and murder and all manner of depravity in the room about him. Severus had the ability to focus very intently on his work. He had never been interested in gore for the sake of gore, even at the height of his Death Eater career. Gore for the sake of rare or valuable potion ingredients, perhaps, or for the sake of very deserved revenge as in the case of his father, of course. But not just as a source of amusement. Subtlety and precision were his trademarks of a sort, then and now.

This pattern had not changed, though it perhaps had intensified slightly with Severus's recent 'return to the fold' for the recreation of the potion. The others had always attempted to draw him into participation, or at least to ruffle his unflappable calm, as one more facet of their entertainment.

This stoicism was tested to new heights this evening. For Severus's benefit, the muggle women obtained for the 'games' were all forced to drink a draught of Polyjuice Potion.

Rowena.

Half-dozen muggle women who were exact replicas of Rowena were herded inside in a terrified, naked mass. The Dark Lord assumed his throne-like chair in one corner of the room and watched. The other Death Eaters set upon the 'sport' like starved, rabid dogs might massacre a chicken coop. Occasionally someone would call to Severus, or attempt to 'play' near where he worked, trying to distract him. He never lifted his eyes from the potion, unless to arch a disdainful brow implacably and then return to his work.

Pettigrew the Rat had been in Hogsmeade and the surrounding area far more than Severus had been aware of up until now. The work on building up Hogsmeade and securing it was by no means complete or perfect. It was simply too large of an area to be able to secure completely. Severus had known, through his familiar, that the Rat had been about the grounds on occasion, but he had not been able to breach Hogwarts itself.

However, Rowena had spent considerable time lately away from Hogwarts, with Katrina and her parents in Hogsmeade. She'd chaffed at the restriction that the Headmaster had imposed upon her—that she not leave the area of Hogwarts or Hogsmeade without Order escort. Now the reason for that security was being plainly demonstrated for Severus's benefit; and proven to be laughably inadequate.

She had been heavily involved in the warding project when construction first began. It would hardly have been difficult for the Animagus to follow her about until he had obtained the desired object. With her long hair, it would only have been a matter of time before it snagged on something or even shed a strand as she took off her cloak to hang it in The Three Broomsticks when she had lunch. Any number of ways the vile creature could have obtained it. How he had gotten it was not so important at the moment as that he HAD gotten it.

Bile rose again in Severus's throat as he tried to savagely squash the memory of the images, the screams, and the blood.

He was not expected to participate. He maintained his utter impassivity throughout the necessary time to complete the evening's sequence of ingredients and manipulations to the concoction. When he'd finished, he took his leave of his Master with the appropriate obeisance and slowly made his way across the blood-spattered room.

It was Bellatrix who stopped him. Bellatrix, who's loyalty to the Dark Lord was a fanaticism that had long since passed the bridge of sanity and who therefore trusted no one else to properly 'love' their Master. She held one of the women backward in her arms, so that the woman's back was to Bella's front. Bella was much taller than Rowena, so that her twisted, evil smile was clearly visible as she toyed with the honey-brown hair and caressed a pale, spidery hand across the naked torso. The muggle woman was clearly in shock, the huge doe-eyes wide and unfocused, blood trickling from a dozen wounds from various whips and knives that seemed part of these sorts of games. Bella's fingers toyed in the blood as a child might play with finger-paint.

"Severus, darling. Surely you weren't going to leave without a goodbye kiss?" Bella's evil cackle was clearly audible even over the other sounds in the room. She shoved the woman at him, forcefully, so that the replica stumbled and instinctively reached out, grabbing onto him to keep from falling. He put his arms out to steady her, and also to hold her away from him, not wanting to be close to the doomed doppelganger. Familiar brown eyes looked up in him in shock and terror.

From just behind the woman, Bellatrix pulled a knife seemingly from nowhere and slit "Rowena's" throat carelessly, like a hot knife through butter. The replica slumped at once so that her limp body fell against him; hot blood pouring in a violent gush from her throat to drench his robes in the crimson flood.

It was over in an instant, but he could still see the look on the dying woman's face and hear Bella's laughter ringing in his ears.

He managed to merely raise an indifferent brow at Bella as he let the body slide carelessly to the floor. "I see you have still not acquired anything of delicacy or skill, Lestrange," he had said in bored tones. He stepped over the body at his feet and exited the building.

He vomited a dozen times or more between the Hogsmeade apparition point and the Hogwarts grounds where Rowena… the real Rowena, alive and unhurt… came upon him and saw him drenched in 'her' blood. He had no control of his emotions at that moment, and worried that the exchange might have ruined all. If Pettigrew had gotten close enough to obtain hair for the Polyjuice, (and Severus desperately hoped that he had only gotten hair) he likely had traversed the forest frequently. It was possible that he could have witnessed the encounter with Rowena.

Severus was certain that the flash of terror in her eyes that he saw just before she ran away would haunt him for the rest of his days.

The heat of the shower was almost scalding and he scrubbed mercilessly at his skin as though to try and wash away the taint of what he had seen and done, tonight and all the many nights similar to it before. Even Albus Dumbledore had no ability to fully grasp the true horrors that he had witnessed in his life. Each time there was an incident like this it seemed to force him to relive the memories of all the previous ones as well.

Only when physical exhaustion threatened to cause him to fall asleep on his feet did he get out of the shower and put on clean robes. His intent was to have a stiff drink or perhaps Dreamless Sleep potion before going to bed. He went first to his fire with the ruined cloak wadded in his hand and threw it into the flames. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, he had several spares. He watched a moment as the cleansing fire consumed the bloody fabric, wishing the images in his mind could be cauterized away as easily.

It wasn't until he turned back to head to his cupboards for the drink that he realized the problem with his prior plan. There was someone already standing in his kitchenette, retrieving two glasses and his finest Cognac.

"I'd be pretty bad at my job if I couldn't manage to get through your wards, Severus. Particularly since you didn't seem too determined to keep me out. Ask Flitwick to help you next time if you really don't want me to get in here."

She chattered nervously as she poured the drinks, apparently determined not to let him speak. Her hands trembled so that the bottle rattled noisily against the rim of the glasses as she poured.

"You don't want to talk about it; I won't ask. I'm not sure what's going on, and I'm pretty sure that I'm happier not knowing. But I also don't believe a true Death Eater vomits his guts up over a bit of blood, nor warns people off rather than hexing, killing, or at least Oblivating.

"So. Apparently I am able to come to terms with the idea of Severus Snape the complete bastard, but I just haven't yet bought into Severus Snape the evil Death Eater."

She looked up at him at last, uncertainly. Was he going to rage at her? Throw her out? He was staring at her as though he had never really seen her before, advancing on her with an inscrutable expression on his face. She reached for the drinks as he came near, but he grabbed her wrist in an almost vise-like grasp. He didn't say a word, but pulled her to him in a bone-crushing embrace that took her breath completely away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stroked her hand through his still-damp hair soothingly, somewhat frightened at his intensity.

"Severus? Are you okay?" she asked softly against his ear.

He chuffed a sound that might have been a choked laugh or a suppressed sob, but seemed unable or unwilling to speak. His body was rigid, each breath tightly controlled so that she thought he might actually be crying, or perhaps trying hard not to. There was nothing of underlying tenderness or reawakening desire in the embrace. It was a thing of distress and misery, as though he was clinging to her as his only lifeline in a raging storm—as perhaps she was.

After a long, long time standing there, he finally loosened his grasp, though it was by slow and reluctant stages. He turned away and rubbed a hand tiredly across his face before handing her one of the glasses and moving over to his sofa. She followed and sat next to him, watching him in worried silence.

"You should not be here; you should not have come," he said at last.

"We're not going to get very far on this 'trying to be friends' thing if you start every conversation by telling me I should go away, Severus," she chided, smiling softly.

He smirked and nodded his agreement. "True, but then so is the admonishment. I do care for your safety."

"I know. Once I was back inside and had time to think it through, I realized that's why you acted that way earlier tonight, on the grounds. That was when I realized you'd done that on purpose. If it makes you feel any better, I was genuinely frightened, out there."

He snorted. "Do you realize how twisted that is? That you should think that I would be pleased that you were sincerely terrified of me?" he asked, incredulously.

"It's not twisted at all," she teased gently. "You are Head of Slytherin House, which by definition means that you ought to have a great deal of ambition and pride in your work. You should feel better to know that you succeeded so admirably in what you set out to do."

Her teasing smile faded to a look of concern as his scowl deepened. She reached out to touch his hand, and realized that she wasn't feeling the pain of the severed Bond at all at the moment, not since he'd held her.

"Severus, really… are you okay?"

He took her offered hand in his and looked at it, playing his fingers through hers as though examining an unusual potion ingredient, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh, no, Rowena. I am most definitely not 'okay'. I am uncertain that I know what 'okay' feels like." He glanced up at her and shook his head. "Do not look so worried. I am physically uninjured. Slytherins know how to save our skins, just as Moody has always said."

He gazed at her face, hungrily, the exact replica of the faces which had died all around him tonight. No, the original of which those others were replicas, yet he knew he would be tormented by those images for a long, long time to come.

"In spite of my warnings to the contrary, I am glad to see you, to know that somehow you have not utterly given up on me, even now."

She shrugged off the gratitude with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

"I care about you and what happens to you. I can't really imagine what could possibly change that. It'd be a very poor show of friendship if I gave up on you when things were difficult."

He didn't have a ready answer for that. It was disturbing how often lately that he had found himself speechless. Some of his inner turmoil was mollified to a great degree by hearing her speak so casually of friendship. He had never needed it more.

He released her hand to reach out and grasp a lock of her hair that had slipped out of her braid. He rubbed it through his fingers even as his gaze never left hers.

"The war is escalating, Rowena. There is danger everywhere, even here in this very castle. Peter Pettigrew obtained samples of your hair. Can you imagine what might be done with that? What would Tonks willingly say to you if she thought she bumped into you on the street? What if Katrina saw you outside the edge of the Hogsmeade wards and went running up to you?"

What if Death Eaters raped and murdered six of your duplicates all around me so that I can still hear 'your' screams and smell 'your' blood?

"Oh my God!" she gasped. Her eyes widened in horror as she contemplated the implications of what he said. "How?"

He smirked at the question. "How? How many hairs a day do human beings loose? A strand on your cloak, maybe you snagged the end of your braid somewhere without even knowing it, it wouldn't take much, Rowena. I am not even certain it was Pettigrew. Draco is in your class. You have many children of Death Eaters in your class. I assure you, there is no one in this school for whom the Dark Lord could not obtain a single strand of hair.

"You must not even trust ME, Rowena, do you see? When you first saw me on the grounds, I could have been anyone. How can you be certain of who I am? You need to be afraid, to be on your guard more than you ever have before."

She shook her head in denial. "No, not you," she said firmly. "I would know it was you right away, wouldn't I? A Polyjuice potion can't mimic this, can it?"

Her hand rubbed across her chest indicating the remnants of the Bond. It was broken and dysfunctional, it was true, but it still changed and reacted to his presence or lack thereof. It did not behave that way with anyone else.

"Very well then, not me. But anyone else you think you know or trust," he said, still trying to make his point.

"Polyjuice is simply too easy to make or obtain in any Apothecary. After what Barty Crouch did, the Headmaster has put up several different alarms to detect for disguise and concealment. He, Flitwick, and I check those regularly to make certain that they are effective against the latest known subterfuge. Polyjuice Potion in use inside these grounds now sends an immediate alarm to Albus and a select few of the faculty.

"If you wish to be certain of someone's identity, then Hogwarts is the safest place of any. Just be aware that no defense is perfect."

"Why hasn't that been tried more before, then? Why hasn't someone tried to impersonate Minerva or Flitwick or Hagrid and infiltrated the school that way? I mean, besides what Crouch did, obviously," she asked thoughtfully.

"It is exceedingly difficult to maintain for any length of time. In most cases, anyone who knows the person well will soon discover the concealment. Crouch was exceedingly skilled and Moody is eccentric enough to be somewhat easy to impersonate, at least on the surface. Crouch used potions to keep Moody's defenses against the Imperious Curse weakened and was able to question him regularly to maintain his disguise. Both Crouch and Moody are skilled at Occlumency, which means Dumbledore was not suspicious when he could not read the impostor Moody easily. Few people are that skilled or able to mimic that degree of detail. For most cases, it is a sufficient disguise for short periods only. However, it is still a serious risk."

She swallowed the apprehension his warnings had caused, and nodded her understanding. His hand found hers again and for a time they sipped their drinks in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

"Why were you out on the grounds alone so late tonight?" he asked, in a tone that was almost, but not quite, accusatory. So much had happened since his return that she had nearly forgotten why she had sought him out to begin with.

"Harry came to me with all sorts of stories today—he's been meddling again and I haven't had time to report to Albus." She glanced over at his tired countenance, now darkening to anger again. "It's true though, isn't it?"

"Bloody meddling imbecilic FOOL!" he growled, too tired to rage properly. "I don't know what he saw, and I don't want to know, therefore I cannot confirm nor deny. By Merlin if Albus isn't going to put a leash on that brat, I will! I'm done waiting for his idiocy to get me or mine killed."

She squeezed his hand gently and stroked his fingers with her thumb, trying to draw his attention away from his anger. He needed rest, and he wouldn't get that if he was tense and angry.

"I'm going to speak with Albus first thing in the morning. Don't get upset over it now, Severus. You need to get some sleep. Can I do anything for you? Are you injured?" She still couldn't get the image of him soaked in blood out of her mind. The fact that he claimed that none of it was his made it somehow that much worse. "Do you… I'm not trying to pry, but would it help to talk about it?"

"No, to all. I need nothing, I am uninjured, and I most certainly do not wish to talk about it," he said harshly. She started to pull her hand away, and he held onto it for a moment longer. "The only thing that could help me, Rowena, you have already done. Just to see you. That was more beneficial than you can know."

He stood and pulled her to her feet, still holding gently to her hand.

"You are correct, however. I need to retire, and you ought to as well. I have not removed the door that connects our labs together. You may traverse safely through there, unless you have removed yours."

She stood there looking at him concernedly, trying to determine if he was being truthful with her. However, unlike Dumbledore and himself, and now to some extent Harry, she was not able to use Legilimency to any effect without a wand and a great deal of effort. He had the waxy-pale complexion that he developed when he was greatly fatigued, but he did indeed appear physically well and she had no real argument to offer. She smiled softly at him and reached up to brush a lock of hair out of his face.

"No, I haven't removed the door. I hope you know that you can come and see me if you need anything. Goodnight, Severus."

He closed his eyes a moment after she was gone, to savor the memory of her gentle smile and sweet touch, trying to forcibly superimpose it over the much less pleasant ones of the evening. Perhaps he could will his dreams to be of the gentler images rather than the nightmarish ones.

He only allowed himself a moment, however, before storming out of his quarters with purposeful strides.