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.

Thank you to my Beta, Elaine!

Chapter 41: Wishful Thinking

A few days later, 'The Daily Prophet' printed news that left much of the school subdued, even in light of the excitement over the 'secret' upcoming nuptials. It was impossible to move every single half-blood or Muggle-born wizarding family into Hogsmeade, even if they were all willing. They had prioritized families they thought would be most likely to be attacked, and done what they could for families who either would not or could not be relocated.

The necessity for the caution was not exaggerated, and the article detailing the deaths of six Muggle women graphically illustrated that point. They were mothers to wizarding children. Two of the families in question had children that were too young to be in Hogwarts yet, two had children just completing their first year here at the school, and two had children who had already finished Hogwarts.

Six black-and-white photographs showed six different houses, each with the Dark Mark grinning garishly over it. The women had been abducted, murdered and then returned to their homes, all without any witness ever seeing so much as a flutter of a Death Eater cloak. Voldemort wanted to send a message to suggest that security was ineffectual, resistance futile, and his own power unstoppable.

The article mentioned that each woman had been transformed via Polyjuice Potion to resemble one of Dumbledore's supporters, but did not mention Rowena by name. The new Minister was capable of some degree of control and discretion over the press, at least. The bodies had to be identified magically, because of the nature of the potion—a dead person can no longer metabolize it, so it does not 'wear off'. A person who dies under the effect of Polyjuice maintains the assumed form instead of returning to their natural form.

It was news that the Dark Lord had chosen to use one of Dumbledore's allies that caused as much fear as the murders themselves. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was getting bolder, more confident, which only heightened the fear of the general populace.

There would be many ramifications of this over the next weeks and months. The influx of people into Hogsmeade increased, straining relations all around. Those who had been there 'first' or at least early on in the war, did not trust the newcomers—how easy would it be to masquerade as a refugee if one was truly a Death Eater? It was impossible to screen everyone thoroughly, and suspicion began running high throughout the village.

Order membership began to grow rapidly, as people who had been fence sitting before finally chose sides. This was not entirely the boon that might be expected, as many of these new members were untrained, non-combatants. It was also assumed that Voldemort's ranks were filling as well, for the same reasons.

Somehow, even in the depths of war, life goes on. Remus and Tonks considered postponing their wedding, but Dumbledore encouraged them not to let Voldemort have so much control as to influence their decision, or their happiness. John Lupin recommended two of St. Mungo's best Counselors to Dumbledore, who hired them immediately. They took up residence in Hogsmeade and made regular visits throughout the village and Hogwarts to help the children and adults deal with the stress of events around them, particularly the newly bereaved.

Only by decreasing the frequency of exams and length of required essays, was Severus able to meet his obligations and still find time to spend a brief while each day with Rowena. He did not fear his students' education would suffer for the change—he merely increased the difficulty and complexity of the covered material to make up for the decrease in volume. It still required as much if not more time and effort from the student to scrape a pass, while not demanding so much of his.

By the pallor of her complexion as she read the 'Prophet' at breakfast on the morning in which that particular article appeared, he knew she suspected which of Dumbledore's supporters had been 'chosen' as the form for the dead women. Like many of the teachers, she opened it as soon as it arrived, while she waited for her tea to cool enough to be palatable.

She hadn't read far when she made a small, choked noise in her throat. Her eyes flew to his face, huge as saucers and filled to brimming with sparkling tears. The paper was propped before her in such a way that it would have been difficult for anyone else to see her. Her expression was such a mixture of emotion in that moment—shock, horror, fear, compassion, sadness and so much more—that it seemed to Severus as though the whole wealth of human emotion was laid bare in her delicate face.

"Me?" she mouthed the word when he glanced at her, unable or unwilling to articulate it.

He looked away, not wanting to answer. A muscle jumped in his jaw and he pushed his plate away, having eaten nothing, and having no ability to do otherwise. He wouldn't let her hear of it from someone else, though. Besides, she was too intelligent not to figure it out on her own after his warning to her about the Polyjuice and her hair. He looked back at her and gave the tiniest of nods.

A single, lonely tear escaped the cage of her lashes. It was not that which surprised him, however, but the sudden feel of her hand in his beneath the table, gripping tightly, though whether to give or receive comfort he could not have said.

It only took a few minutes for her to regain some sense of balance, and before the meal was over, she had engaged in animated discussion with the other staff about ways to increase security even further. He relinquished her hand when she pulled it away and felt a surge of pride for her. It seemed from his perspective that she became stronger every day, more centered, more focused, more able to cope with whatever came her way.

That thought lead to less pleasant ruminations. In spite of her girlhood fancy for him, she had never 'needed' him in her life, in any sense. He now began to wonder if he would be able to find a way to persuade her to let him be part of it, after all that he had done. Perhaps with her returning sense of self-sufficiency, she would find someone better suited to her.

Silently he vowed to himself not to interfere if that happened—and not to quit fighting to rebuild what he had destroyed until it did.

"Harry was in a better mood in my class today than I think I've ever seen him," Rowena commented pleasantly to Severus. He had come to her office after student curfew a few days after the momentous article, with the excuse of discussing Katrina's schedule over the weekend. They were sitting near her fire, ostensibly playing chess, though the pieces seemed to be getting bored due to neglect. Severus merely made a noncommittal sound and moved his king's knight.

"I thought you were going to deal with him?" she asked teasingly.

"What makes you think that I have not?" he asked.

"Because he was in a better mood in my class today than I've ever seen him," she repeated, now smiling at him and trying not to giggle. "You said something to him, didn't you? I mean something helpful, not just 'five-thousand points from Gryffindor'."

"Perhaps I merely threatened him to within an inch of his life."

"Nope. I don't buy that one, either. The poor boy's been terrified out of his wits all year already. I don't think even you could have managed to frighten him more than he already was," she said as she captured the knight he had just moved.

"You wound me," he said, with an overly dramatic hand over his heart, "If there is a student in this school that I am unable to make more frightened than they previously were, I have lost my touch."

The giggle would no longer be repressed, "Severus! That's a terrible thing to say. I'm shocked that you seem to get so much pleasure out of terrorizing your students."

"It is abysmally easy to accomplish, however," he said, smirking back at her as she continued to laugh. The uncomplicated sound of her happy laughter was perhaps the most pleasant thing he had ever heard. "Albus is always telling me that I should learn to appreciate the simple things in life."

"Somehow I don't think that's what he had in mind."

"Then he should learn to be more explicit. It is a very simple thing, and I enjoy it tremendously, therefore I am following the letter of his direction. I consider it fair payment for much of the more odious duties that are my lot as a Professor of this Institution."

Her giggles had faded away, though she was still smiling softly, apparently content for the moment. She leaned back against the arm of her sofa so she could face him more easily, draping her arm across the back.

"Is it really so terrible? Teaching, I mean? I sort of like it. I mean, I know I only have about a third of your class load and it's not a 'real' class—'Theories of Magic', right? But I'm surprised how much I'm enjoying it." She regarded him quizzically, as though genuinely interested in his answer.

"I just wonder how much of this is all bluff and bluster? If there was no war, no Dumbledore, no prior… history… what would you do instead of teach?"

He scoffed and shook his head, even as he tried to answer honestly.

"It is impossible for me to answer that, Rowena. My life was formed by this war, and the one before it, and the one before that. Snapes have been active in the Dark Arts, and in supporting the leaders of such, since long before I was born.

"My mother's family was not. My mother might have tried to encourage me to become a Healer, even as your father did with you—but even if the current Dark Lord did not exist, there would be someone in His place, and you can be certain that my father would have followed. The outcome would have been the same."

He paused thoughtfully, trying and failing to imagine a life scenario in which his father would not have killed his mother. Unwilling to dwell on the morbid memories, he brought his consideration back to her question.

"No; that is not true, since your imaginary scenario eliminates Albus Dumbledore. Without Dumbledore, or someone very like him, I would never have left that path myself. Or perhaps I would have tried and ended up dead like Regulus Black."

He turned on the sofa to face her, unconsciously mirroring her position and casually leaning his chin against his hand, his elbow also against the back of the sofa. He smiled slightly at her expression. She was clearly annoyed that he had not 'played along' with her game. The truth was, before he knew her, he had never given any thought to other options for his life.

"The best I can do is offer what I might like to do when this is all over. I think I would leave this school, at least for a while. I was only out of school for three years before I returned as a Professor. The vast majority of my life has been spent within these walls, and in some form of servitude. Freedom is so unfathomable to me that I can only imagine it in small doses."

All trace of laughter was gone from her face as she listened attentively, her soft brown eyes compassionate and accepting.

"Where would you go? What would you do?"

"Travel. See places as a normal person rather than a spy or Death Eater. Perhaps run an apothecary of my own—Merlin knows I'd put half of the shops in Diagon Alley out of business in a month." He offered her a smug smile in return for the amused grin she flashed at him. "Well? There is not a one of them worth half what they charge. I'd hex any student claiming to pass my N.E.W.T. who couldn't out-brew most of them."

He looked around her office, the pink tinges of the setting sun just fading from view of her window and let his thoughts return to her question.

"In the end I would probably come back here, for either the Defense job or Potions. Teaching does have its rewarding moments; albeit few and far between. I think perhaps that once I left, I would never return to reside within the castle itself. Professor Vector goes home to her family in London every night except when it is her turn for night duty. I could not be Head of House if I lived away from the school, but that seems a small price to pay for the freedom."

Something wistful crossed her features, and he wondered if she was trying to imagine herself in that picture somewhere. Then he wondered if that thought wasn't coming from his own newly discovered capacity for 'wishful thinking'. He decided he wasn't ready to pursue that thought any further just now, and so he put an end to it, and her question, with the most honest answer he had.

"I don't really expect to survive, you know." He raised his hand to stay her protest and shook his head. "I am not taking drama lessons from Potter. I am simply being pragmatic. I know what there is still to be accomplished. I know my own breaking point. I know how close the Dark Lord has come to it. It is just a game now. Who will outlast whom? I am not one of the ones required to be standing at the end game—my role is to ensure that those who are necessary survive to get there."

"That's morbid! What a horrible thing to say! What happened to Slytherins knowing how to save their skins?" she asked, all contentedness vanished in her frown.

"I am not offering myself on the sacrificial altar of martyrdom, Rowena. Trust me; I have a very strong survival instinct. It is not morbid but realistic, and it is why I have never allowed myself to think beyond the confines of the war before. You did ask," he reminded her.

"Don't let it be me," she said firmly, glaring at him.

"Don't let…? I don't understand you? Don't let what be you," he asked, puzzled.

"Your 'breaking point'. That's why those women looked like me, last week, isn't it? To test you, right? He thought I would be your weakness? Well, don't let me be! I don't want to be the thing that 'breaks' you." Her hand was clenched into a fist against the fabric of the sofa, her relaxed posture of moments before nothing but a memory.

"Why not?" he asked with an amused snort, trying vainly to forget the memory of that night. "That would be a very twisted irony, would it not? After everything that has occurred between us, I think if anyone has a right to that position, it would be you."

"STOP IT!" she cried, angrily. She stood up and stalked over to her desk and began shuffling papers about randomly as though she couldn't stand to be near him and needed something to do with her hands.

"That is not at all amusing, Severus," she said through clenched teeth.

"What do you want, Lupin?" he said, his own voice hardening in the face of her anger. "What do you want me to say? You asked me a question, and I gave you an honest answer—more than I would have told any other person. I will not apologize for upsetting your delicate sensibilities. I know you are more rational than that."

He remained seated as he stared at her back. She had now crossed her arms and was breathing heavily in her anger.

"You answer now, Lupin. What do you want?"

"I don't know," she said softly. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she shook her head. "I used to know. I used to want things. None of it seems very important anymore.

"All I really want now is to figure out what's going on here," she waved her hand wildly in the air to encompass the two of them, though she didn't turn to face him. "I want to know why you're paying almost more attention to me now than you did when we were married. I want to know what the point is, where this is going." Her voice was rising, angry yet constricted as though she couldn't decide whether to rage or weep.

"It seems to me I won't find out the answers to any of those things if you're dead. If that's where you're figuring to end up, then isn't this whole thing terribly pointless?"

Silent and swift as a pouncing cheetah, he'd risen from his seat to come directly behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her roughly to face him, his own anger now easily a match for hers.

"Bloody hell, woman! Are you deliberately trying to hear only what you chose to hear? Don't you know that it is because of you that I have given any thought to a possible life after the war at all? Don't you know what a gift that is? If that is not worth living for and worth fighting for, I don't know what is!

"I have no right to seek you out, not after what I have done to you, to us. I have no right, but I will, regardless. I broke this, what we had, what you gave us. Even broken it is the truest friendship I have ever had. Even if it never heals beyond this, I am not giving up, Rowena. Not unless you tell me to, force me to. It is not pointless!"

Her anger, however, was already fading with the emotional instability that was the lingering effect of the broken Bond. She shook her head as she stared up at him mutely and then all but fell against him, so that her voice was muffled against his chest as she hugged her arms tightly around his waist.

"I don't want you to give up. I just don't want you to be hurt… or maybe even die… because of me!" she said miserably.

Severus sighed and held her close, resting his cheek against the top of her head. This, at least, was a sentiment he could understand completely.

"Rowena," he said, leaning away enough to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and tilt her chin up so that he could look into her frightened face. With uncharacteristic tenderness he gently daubed her tears. "Rowena, I know. Perhaps you do not wish to hear this—but that is precisely the reason I did what I did when I severed the Bond. I did not wish that link to make you vulnerable to my associates so that it might one day be MY fault that you were injured or killed because of my attachment to you. Do you see?"

She nodded. "So now what?" she asked in a very small voice.

"So now we survive this bloody war and worry about after, after. I mean no slight on your brother when I say this, but unlike Remus and Tonks, I know now that I am not able to 'live in the moment' to that extent. Their union will not automatically make either of them more vulnerable than they were before. My situation is different. To marry you immediately placed you in much higher danger—because of me—than most people in this war. I thought I could manage the risk and found that I could not."

"I don't know if I can get over that;" she said miserably, "I don't know if I can ever let us be more than 'friends' again. I keep thinking that you want… more than I can give, and it makes me nervous."

"No. You must not think that. Whatever happens, I never want more from you than you wish to share. If I never regain anything beyond this level of friendship, it is still more than I deserve after what I have done. I would not willingly do anything to damage this now," his dark eyes swept her face, searchingly.

She smiled softly and nodded again, leaning her head back against his chest as though merely the sound of his beating heart could soothe her confusion. She remained silent and made no attempt to move away. He closed his eyes and rested his jaw back against her soft hair, allowing himself to savor the comfort he had learned to find there. He couldn't even rouse the desire to be mortified that he, Severus Snape, was becoming a 'hugger', at least where Rowena Lupin was concerned.

A/N: Short chapter to move the story along and get some Severus/Rowena issues discussed. Next Chapter will be posted Saturday, "Bridal Parties", it will be the bachelor/bachelorette parties for Tonks and Remus.

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