"Dove sono? Perché dolgo?"

The barely whispered words, spoken through parched lips and an aching throat, snapped Severus to attention. "Professor?"

Selene's eyes barely focused around the room. Her head swam with an ache that seemed hell-bent to blind her. All she knew was this wasn't her bed. "Dove sono? Che è successo?"

Severus' mind raced, trying to translate the words. Bloody hell. You know enough Latin. Break it down. He left the chair he'd been sitting in for hours, a stack of books on the floor beside him, setting the one he'd been reading on top, and walked over to the bedside. "Professor Sinistra. Selene. You're in my home. You were unconscious. Your wine was poisoned. Damn, can you even hear me?"

Galileo nuzzled her cheek, meowing softly, trying to comfort her.

Voices echoed in Selene's mind, too far away to actually make sense. It was as if she were underwater, drowning. But she felt so dry. So brittle. So far away.

Severus watched her eyes, the haze covering them, the lack of focus. His hand went to her brow, smoothing back her hair, feeling the heat and sweat covering her skin.

She's caught a fever. Damn it to hell and back.

The fire immediately died in the fireplace, and the heavy blankets that he preferred in winter were jerked off of her. With deft fingers, he pulled her upright, stripping the heavy robes off of her, leaving her in only her simple black dress that she wore beneath.

The whole time, Galileo glared at him.

"Listen, you overprotective furball. I know you understand me perfectly. If I wasn't trustworthy, you'd be clawing the living hell out of me. However, you know I won't hurt her. I'm the one Dumbledore trusted to care for her, and I plan to do that, regardless of how many different scowls you manage to master on your feline face. So, do yourself, myself, and herself a favor, and save your animosity for someone who deserves it. Such as whoever doctored her wine. Alright?"

The grey cat nodded, as if agreeing, and resumed a slightly less standoffish attitude.

"Thank you. Now, before you rethink your opinion of me, I need to get the fever down. That means I have to not only get her to drink a potion for me, but that I need to wet her down with cool cloths. If you can manage to not get overly protective of her, I'll let you know what I'm doing, every step of the way. Agreed?"

Galileo nodded again. He sighed in relief. The last thing I need right now is a kneazle playing irritated nanny.

A trip down to his kitchen and linen closet helped him locate clean towels and a fever breaking draught, which he brought up to his room. Lighting candles to see by, he conjured a basin of cool water, soaking the towels one by one, wringing them out and draping them on her forehead, her arms, her chest.

As he pushed back her left sleeve, he saw a pair of tiny puncture wounds, starting to heal.

It's nothing. Galileo just scratched me earlier when I startled her. It looks worse than it is. Really, I'll be fine.

His thumb caressed them softly. Damn it, Selene. Why couldn't you just tell me?

Would you have told you?

His conscience was annoying sometimes.

Lifting her up to a slightly sitting position, he poured the potion into her mouth. In her semi-aware state, her body automatically swallowed the draught, although she seemed vacant, not reacting to his touch or proximity. As soon as she finished the potion, he laid her back against the pillows, covering her with a thin sheet, wet towels draped against her skin.

The moment her eyes closed again, her breathing resuming a steady, although still shallow, pattern, he sank into the chair again, one eye on the pages of his book, the other on his patient.

May the Greek pantheon watch over you, Selene. Because I'm sure doing a lousy job of it.

His hand shook as he poured himself another cup of coffee from the carafe, the sandwich fixing itself, slathering mustard on bread before layering meat and cheese. Sleep had been a foregone conclusion for almost three days now. Every time he dozed in the chair beside his bed, he would jerk awake, hearing the bedding rustle as she stirred. The fever had broken after the first night, but she still hadn't woken, instead occasionally murmuring in broken, often incoherent, Italian, as he lifted her enough to give her more of the potion that was purging the wolfsbane from her blood.

Severus had only slipped away for moments at a time. Food, a rare shower. The kneazle sat with her every moment he was gone, awake and watchful, only sleeping or leaving to use the hastily-conjured litterbox when she knew the man was awake and watching over the woman. With no word from Dumbledore, he had no idea how long this arrangement could continue.

The coffee disappeared in only two swallows, and he found himself slightly more alert than he had been moments before. A few bites of the sandwich demolished it – clearly, he'd been hungrier than he cared to admit. Another cup of coffee steadied his nerves a bit more, and he polished off an apple in seconds.

The knock at the door, however, had been the last sound he'd expected to hear.

Cold rain poured from the dismal grey sky, blocking the fact that it was closer to noon than midnight. The gloom that seemed to possess everything prohibited him from recognizing the man who stood on his doorstep.

The recognition didn't improve his humor.

"Lupin."

The werewolf pulled his hood back slightly, shaking water from his cloak. "Severus. Is it alright if I come inside?"

The taller man stood aside just enough to allow Remus to step inside.

Remus sighed. It was, of course, about as much courtesy as he'd expected to receive. "Dumbledore sent me to bring this to you." Reaching into his cloak, he extracted a packet of papers, all tied with string that held on it a slight privacy charm. Interesting. "He also thought it prudent for you to send me back with a few bottles of potion, rather than try to come to the Place while you're occupied."

Severus' eyebrow shot at that last word. "Interesting choice of words."

Remus shrugged slightly. "He won't tell anyone what you're busy with, just that you're occupied with a matter of upmost importance. No one really cares, however, considering we're slightly more concerned with more important matters."

"I assume Weasley will live." Severus' voice was a shade above ice as he turned, walking from the small living room and opening a side door, leading to a former pantry that had been converted into a small workroom. Reaching for three empty flasks, he filled them with a steaming potion, corking them and charming them to keep warm.

"Yes. The doctors are still trying to determine the best course of action. They've gone so far as to try Muggle stitching, but nothing's working."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Tell the doctors to try grinding a bezoar and adding it to an infusion of wormwood until it makes a paste."

Remus' eyebrows now went skyward. Will wonders never cease…

The bottles filled, Severus closed the workroom door and handed them to the man who dripped water on his floor. "I assume that is everything you require, Lupin."

There wasn't a question to be found in that reply.

Lupin nodded. "I appreciate the generosity, Severus. Thank you."

Snape opened the door leading upstairs. "Well then, good afternoon. I trust you can show yourself out. The locking charms automatically return when the door shuts."

Remus stopped cold, every hair on his neck rising, his body bristling, the sensation of burning in his blood. His eyes were fixed on the staircase, and his breathing sped up, a low growl coming from his throat.

Bloody hell! How could I forget he's a thrice-bedamned werewolf!

Remus forced himself into some semblance of self control as Severus slammed the door shut. "Who's the vampire?"

Severus sighed deeply. "Selene Sinistra."

"And what, pray tell, is the good Astronomer doing in your bedroom?"

Black eyes narrowed in clear anger. "Lying comatose as she recovers from being poisoned, if you must have your curiosity sated."

Remus had the good manners to blush and look repentant. "I apologize for the implication."

Severus unclenched the fists he hadn't realized were clenched in the first place. "You can apologize to her when she's conscious again."

"Why is she even here in the first place?" Lupin's curiosity took hold as he continued to regain his composure. He hated this part of himself – the animal side that took control of his mind when he least expected it. Memories of the same pins-and-needles reaction came back to him, all endured during the one year he taught at Hogwarts, on those rare moments when their paths would cross. Dumbledore had, wisely, sworn them both to secrecy about the other, a sad necessity to ensure their mutual survival. "And how was she poisoned? That doesn't make sense."

Severus glared, wondering how much longer he would have to entertain the man's questions. "She's here on Dumbledore's orders," he growled through clenched teeth. "Because she can't stay at the school, obviously, and he couldn't very well take her to stay in London, with you having quite cozy accommodations there yourself, could he? And as for the poison," he paused, debating how much to tell the werewolf, before deciding it likely wouldn't matter, "her wine was laced with wolfsbane."

Lupin's eyes went wide. "Wolfsbane? In a vampire? Oh Merlin, it's coagulating her blood…"

Snape's jaw hung wide open. "How in hell did YOU know that!"

Remus shot him a look of annoyance. "Not in werewolf summer camp, I promise you, Severus." He found himself perversely amused at the look of shock warring with surprised respect in the other man's eyes. "I've done a decent amount on both her kind and mine. You know, for all the base differences between lycanthropy and vampiricism, there's a world of similarities…"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Nice to know."

"I assume you're giving her a blood purification potion."

"Regularly."

Lupin nodded. "Good. She should recover soon, then." His eyes then grew querulous, searching the Potion Master's own black ones intently. "However, if I were you, I'd be careful when she finally awakens."

"Careful?"

"She'll need to feed when she finally revives from the coma."

Severus paled slightly, swallowing hard. "You don't mean food, do you?"

Lupin shook his head.

"Well, she's never fed off the students in all her years at Hogwarts, otherwise we'd have known before now that she was a vampire."

Lupin shrugged. "She's probably a self-feeder then. Most of the time, if not exclusively. There are some sects that do that, such as the sanguinistri strigoii, that only feed on their own blood because they hate admitting…"

Twin marks on her wrist and a flippant comment from Pomfrey filled his mind. "She's not a strigoii."

Silence filled the room, finally broken by Lupin's quick intake of breath. "She's a moroii?"

Severus nodded. "That's what Pomfrey implied, at least. She made it clear to me that she's not undead, which would mean she was living, which would make her a moroii."

"Well, that would explain Dumbledore's trust in her, especially after most of the vampires sided with you-know-who in the last war. Moroii are rare as it is, but they also tend to be the least passionate and more ethical members of the vampiric circle."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Thank you for the impromptu lecture, Professor Lupin."

Remus glared. "Pardon me. Do you know how few people actually know the difference between the two anymore? Let alone care? To them, a vampire is a vampire, no matter what kinds of morals or ethics she may hold."

The fervor in his voice and the darkness in his eyes stopped Severus from any more frustrated rage. Instead of counting the seconds before throwing the man out, he sank onto his couch. "Sounds as if you and her have much in common. Despite the animosity, of course."

Lupin's eyebrow shot upward at the lessening of the edge in the other man's voice. "I don't enjoy what I am, Severus. And I sure as hell don't enjoy what it makes me in the eyes of other people. But other people care, and it's the same for her as it is for me. Why else would she feel the need to hide who she is for this long?"

Everyone has a past, Severus.

"I don't know, Lupin. Nor do I presume to know."

"A wise answer." Remus gathered up his bottles of wolfsbane potion and pulled the cloak back over his eyes. As he finished, he turned one last time to the man he'd came to visit. "However, unless I've misjudged you, you're one of the few humans who could come to understand it."

Severus spent almost an hour on the couch, alone, contemplating that last statement.