AN: Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed/followed/favorited Part 1 of this series! I have really loved writing Rose and Remus' romance and am so glad you all are enjoying reading it. I can't express how much your reviews mean and look forward to hearing your feedback as we begin Part 2 of their story. If you are new to this series, please go read RPM Part 1: Chocolate and Cigarettes first. Please consider favoriting, following, and reviewing this story as well, it always brings a huge smile to my face when I get notifications that someone has left a review or favorited. Love you all and happy new year!

Chapter 1

It has been so wet stones glaze in moss;
everything blooms coldly.
I expect you. I thought one night it was you
at the base of the drive, you at the foot of the stairs,
you in a shiver of light, but each time
leaves in wind revealed themselves …
I've planted vegetables along each garden wall
so even if spring continues to disappoint
we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.

- Lisa Olstein [Dear One Absent This Long While]

"If our mothers make me try another cake sample, I think I may throw up on our wedding day," Stefan whispered in her ear conspiratorially as they walked through their third manor-viewing of the day. Rose grinned at him in agreement.

It felt as if Narcissa and Margot were trying to cram as much of the eight months' worth of wedding planning into the week preceding it in order to make sure both she and Stefan now felt included in the process. This had mostly consisted of the pair of them nodding and thanking their mothers for their excellent choices on everything from flowers to colors to wedding favors to the venue to the food to the font style of the wedding program to the golden edging of ribbons to the music choices—and on and on it went. After the fourth day of nonstop chattering, Rose had given Stefan an expression that clearly communicated 'I can't take much more of this' and he had managed to get them out of a morning of more wedding related activities to tour various residences instead. Though her combination wedding shower bachelorette party was planned for that night, at least the morning would give her a moment to breathe.

The homes they were touring had also been picked out by Narcissa and Margot and had thus far consisted of ostentatious manors in a traditional style that oozed wealth and opulence. Stefan had suggested to their mothers that it might be a romantic outing for the pair to do on their own and had thus succeeded in acquiring them some merciful hours of peace and quiet. These moments were only occasionally interrupted by their realtor—a middle-aged witch in simple black robes and a paisley witch's hat. But she, for the most part, let the pair alone to tour the various houses in peace.

"Thanks for making this happen," she told him for the hundredth time that day, and he squeezed her hand.

"Thanks for giving me the excuse," he said back as they walked back along the main hallway of another large manor. "It's something we would have needed to do anyway, now's as good a time as any."

Rose looked up at the enormous chandelier that hung over the entry hall and frowned. The house was almost exactly like the one she'd grown up in, and she was not feeling particularly nostalgic at the moment. As well-meaning as Narcissa was about the wedding, between all of the preparations and being careful not to put another toe out of line, home currently felt stifling. Her father was still fuming over the "werewolf situation" which she'd been chewed out for the moment she'd arrived home. She'd listened to her father call Remus Lupin all of the worse things she could imagine and had endured it silently.

A week ago, she might have worked up the courage to yell back, but now that he had left, she felt numb about the whole thing. Why should she defend him to Lucius Malfoy when she had been ready to throw all of this away to be with him? She was still oscillating between anger and sadness over what he'd said to her, but the thing that upset her the most was the possibility that he was right about her. Rose was accustomed to the finer things in life, enjoyed respect and public admiration. Was the love she'd felt—still felt—for him so fragile that it would have died at their loss? She hoped not, but now she would never find out. The one good thing to come out of all the wedding preparations was that most days, Rose was too busy and exhausted to spend more emotional energy worrying about it.

"What do you think?" Stefan asked, drawing her out of her reverie.

"Oh, um… it's… nice," she said, glancing at the ornate molding that covered the walls. Stefan chuckled.

"Rose, we're picking out our future home together, it's okay if you don't like it."

"I hate it," she said honestly. "It's so… old fashioned."

"Me too," he smiled, obviously looking relieved about her answer.

"Really?"

"It makes me feel like I'm trapped in my parent's house."

"Exactly," she agreed instantly.

"Let's go to the next one, I think you'll like it."

To her surprise, they apparated to an apartment building in London—not far from where Sam's parents lived. She was sure it was within walking distance of Damien's clinic and Diagon Alley.

"Many of our younger couples are enjoying the convenience and excitement of city living these days," the realtor said as they took the elevator up to the top floor. "Of course you won't have the privacy you'd have in a country manor, or a fireplace which is usually a must have for my clients. We could always find you a cozy cottage for a country getaway if your budget allows though."

Rose's breath caught in her throat as the door was pushed open. The rooftop flat was probably twice as big as the one she'd been to with Sam, and the style was more industrial, with a black ceiling and exposed brick along the kitchen backsplash. But it had similar high ceilings with a pyramidal skylight and floor to ceiling windows along the main living area. She stepped onto the hardwood floors, her eyes traveling across the concrete countertops and modern fixtures appreciatively.

"There's no way my mom picked this one out."

"No, I picked out this one," he confirmed. "I didn't want to pressure you, but I've enjoyed living in town these past few years. There's plenty of time later for a country manor if we get tired of it."

"I love it," she said, looking out at the incredible view of the London skyline. She could easily picture having her friends over and relaxing with drinks in the large living area. There was even enough room to be able to entertain a decent sized gathering—nothing like they could do at a manor, but more than enough for most occasions. As for large parties, they would have probably continued to have those at their parent's homes anyways. They quickly walked through the rest of the apartment which had a beautiful master suite and guest room with a guest bath. Rose knew immediately that her parents would disapprove of the apartment because there wasn't really enough space for raising children, and in a way that made her want to live there more.

"I've talked with Eugenia, and she thinks if we close on it now it will be ready for us the same day as the wedding," Stefan informed her after having a brief conversation with the realtor. Rose felt a bit giddy and grinned at him, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since Remus had left.

"Let's do it."

"Did you have a good trip?" Narcissa asked when they returned. She and Margot Dolohov were sitting in the drawing room, various wedding related items strewn around them in a kind of controlled chaos. Margot's ashy eyes flickered up to them with stern curiosity that Rose found unnerving. In the week she'd been around her, Rose was sure she hadn't once seen her soon to be mother-in-law give a sincere smile. Today the woman was carrying a blood red fan that matched her claw-like nails. Unlike a smile, an ornate fan seemed to be a constant fixture for the icy woman.

"It was wonderful," she told her mother sincerely, giving Stefan another grateful smile. It really had been the first enjoyable activity all week.

"Did you pick the manor in Dorset?" Margot's cold voice piped up from behind the lacey edges of the fan. "We both agreed it was the best on the list, so grand and such beautiful scenery."

"Ah, well," Stefan said, entwining his fingers around Rose's own. She realized by the tight grip and the way he drew slightly closer to her that he was nervous. "Actually mother, if you remember the penthouse apartment I mentioned in London, we decided to go with that."

Margot's eyes narrowed and became, if possible, even colder. "That atrociously cramped one? With no fireplace? Impossible. You'll be surrounded day and night by all those… those muggles. No, the one in Dorset will be perfect."

The sneer that distorted her face had turned her already off-putting expression quite hideous. Rose found herself annoyed by the response. She'd expected some concerned questions about the decision from her own mother but nothing like this—the blatant expectation of control and obedience. Even Narcissa was eyeing Margot with some trepidation. Stefan said nothing, and when Rose glanced at him, she saw he was looking at the ground with a blank expression.

"It's quite fashionable these days to live in the city—especially for younger witches and wizards," Rose parroted what the realtor had told them, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. "Stefan will inherit the Dolohov family manor one day anyways, it hardly makes sense to invest in our own now when a much grander one awaits."

Margot snapped her fan closed so fast that it sounded like a slap. Her eyes observed Rose with a calculating precision, and Rose swallowed uncomfortably. Stefan was gripping her hand so tight now that it almost hurt, and she knew she'd made the wrong decision. Leaning forward in her seat, she smiled predatorially up at Rose.

"Any daughter-in-law of mine would do well not to count her inheritance before it comes," Margot warned, and Rose's face paled as she realized her statement may have sounded like they were waiting excitedly for Margot and Fabian's deaths. "As for what is fashionable—passing trends will never outlast our most precious traditions."

"Come now, Margot," Narcissa interjected with a delicate laugh that disrupted the tense conversation. "You remember what it was like to be young. Let them have their fun now, they'll grow tired of city life soon."

Margot flipped open her fan once more, waving it at herself delicately, and turned a sickly-sweet expression upon Narcissa. "If you say so dear."

"Can I bring you ladies anything to drink? Mother? Narcissa?" Stefan asked genially.

"I suppose it's not too early for wine," Narcissa answered and Margot nodded her approval.

"We'll be right back then," he said, not releasing his grip on Rose's hand until they were both safely in the wine cellar. Then he turned to her with a very serious expression. "Rose, you need to be more careful around my mother."

She was a bit taken aback by this. It wasn't as though she'd been intentionally trying to anger Margot Dolohov.

"I'm sorry, did you want to live in the Dorset manor? I thought we both agreed we hated it," she snapped at him irritably.

"Rose, please, I'm not angry with you. Believe me, I understand where you were coming from," he said placatingly. "But now I need you to understand me. You don't have any memories from the war—my childhood was the war. My parents and uncle were some of the Dark Lord's earliest supporters. I am only not a Death Eater because his downfall occurred before I graduated. I know exactly what my mother is capable of; I've seen it firsthand."

Rose was taken aback by the haunted look in Stefan's eyes; it made him look much younger and very tired. She wanted to ask what it was his mother had done that had left such an impression on him but couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She'd never really thought of how he'd lived his most formative years in the midst of the Dark Lord's rise to power. Nor considered how terrifying that might be for a young gay man growing up in the home of Death Eaters whose expectations for the continuation of their lineage rested solely on his shoulders.

"You just… need to be careful around her," Stefan continued, his gaze slipping from her eyes to the ground. "The best strategy to get your way is to wait for her to lose interest in what she wants or show how she'll benefit from your decision. Otherwise you can wait until my father is around and try to charm him. She'll listen to what he says, but he rarely contradicts her."

"Thank you for telling me," Rose said in a reassuring tone of voice. This was the second time in a matter of weeks that someone had mentioned the war and how she just didn't understand what it had been like. When Sirius had said it, she'd been inclined to believe he was exaggerating for effect—especially as he had a personal grudge against her parents. But hearing it from Stefan, seeing how much it still filled him with dread, she realized that maybe they were right, and she just didn't get it.

By the time guests started arriving for her wedding shower, Rose was grateful just to have more people between herself and Margot Dolohov as the woman continued sending her calculating glances over the top of her fan the whole afternoon. She felt so on edge and irritated by this treatment that Rose wanted to snatch the fan out of her hands and hit her across the face with it. When Mariko arrived, Rose dragged her friend into the seat next to her and gripped her hand tightly. Mari raised her eyebrows at this reaction but didn't say anything and instead accepted the glass of wine that was offered to her.

Stefan was having his own party a few rooms away with Fabian, Lucius, Draco, and various important guests from the ministry. She imagined there would be a lot of cigar smoking and dart throwing and crude humor that sounded much more fun than sitting in here with the other women who had already begun to talk about babies and the complexities of running a household.

"We'll have to do our own party with Sam and Ava, even if it's afterwards," Mariko whispered into her ear later in the night once dinner had been eaten and gifts had been given and most of the women were fairly drunk. "I know I'll want one with you three when it comes time for my wedding."

"Have you set the date yet?" Rose asked, realizing she'd been so focused on her own upcoming marriage and her feelings for Remus that she had barely asked Mariko anything about her plans all year. 'Have I been a bad friend,' she wondered guiltily, taking another sip of wine. Mariko and Parker were actually in love after all, and Rose had mostly treated their engagement with aloof disinterest.

"New Year's Eve—we're going to have the ceremony be a mix of traditional and western styles and finish it off with a huge party," Mariko said dreamily. "The ceremony will mostly be family, but I do want some friends. You'll be my maid of honor too, yeah?"

"Of course I will, we've only been best friends since we were six years old," Rose answered with a grin. Mari seemed quite relieved by this. She was sure there had been some doubt on the matter after their recent fight.

"How, uh… how are you doing?" Mari asked quietly, and Rose blinked rapidly, taking a large gulp of wine. She struggled to say anything—she didn't realize Mari was so up to date on the knowledge of her relationship with Lupin. But then, Mari had known her for ages, and Rose had spent the last days of school moping around in bed like a kicked puppy.

Mariko watched Rose's reaction with a keen expression. "That good, huh?"

"Pretty much," Rose mumbled into the wine glass. "All of these distractions have helped though—I haven't had to think about it much."

"Rose, I… I don't understand, not really. But I am sorry for how I reacted," Mariko said, dark eyes staring at her shoes. Rose looked at her in surprise; Mariko Arai never apologized about anything.

"Sam and Ava got to you, didn't they?" Rose asked, giving her a sly smile. Mariko laughed at this and nodded.

"Yeah. Sam about chewed my head off, and Ava gave me that disapproving look of hers."

"I hate that look."

"Me too," Mari laughed.

"I'm really glad Quirrell made us do that stupid dueling preparedness project with Sam. Can you imagine the last two years without them?"

"I think one of us would have murdered the other by now," Mariko grinned.

"Yeah, you'd definitely be dead."

"Hey, how do you know it would be me?"

"Well, isn't it obvious," Rose said snootily, earning an elbow to the ribs from Mari.

"Bitch, I don't think so," she grumped back, and Rose laid her head on Mari's shoulder affectionately. She didn't think she could have gotten through this wedding shower without her friend at her side. Despite the busy state she was keeping herself in to avoid dealing with her feelings of loss, she really wasn't doing well.

The worst part of the day was always laying alone in bed at night aching for his arms to hold her, to feel his body against her own. To hear the warm huskiness of his voice as he whispered into her ear. It was like a sick remix of the previous summer only without the luxury of laying in bed all day and being doted on by her mother. Some days, Rose felt like such an idiot. How had she put herself in this situation again? Hadn't she learned her lesson the first time with the disastrous result of her liaisons with Severus Snape? The cynical part of her kept questioning the sincerity of Remus' feelings for her. After all, when she'd told him she loved him, he hadn't said it back. Some days she was so sure she'd seen love in his eyes when he'd looked at her, when he'd kissed her goodbye. But she had believed for months that Snape had loved her too when he'd only been chasing after the illusion of Lily Evans. Because of this, she felt the deepest dread and a dark suspicion that she had been used once again.

"I'll be right back, I need to use the toilet," Rose said quickly, standing and moving across the room, smiling and nodding at the women she passed. One good part about having a group this large was that they were perfectly able to entertain themselves without her needing to dote on them all night. Rose used to love parties like this—showing off her expensive clothing, her beauty, her superior wit to other pureblood women who, though more pure than herself, were far beneath her in every other way.

Turning left rather than right when she exited the room, Rose wandered out onto one of the many balconies. This particular one overlooked the gardens and had always been her favorite. The waning moon hung like an oblong jewel in the sky, illuminating the ornate fountain and the white peacocks that wandered the grounds. Rose realized with a jolt that she hadn't stood on this balcony in a very long time. The reason for this was that she'd been avoiding it for the better part of a year after things with Severus had fallen apart. This was the balcony where he'd first kissed her.

Rose knuckled away tears, not even sure now why she was crying. She hated being so damn weepy. It wasn't in her nature. She preferred to be cheeky and sarcastic and loved to laugh, but her emotions felt so raw and close to the surface these days. Looking up at the stars, Rose began identifying various constellations she remembered from her astronomy days, and the analytical pursuit was pleasantly distracting. She heard footsteps behind her and expected it to be Mari or her mother come to look for her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize this balcony was taken," Stefan said awkwardly, pausing in the archway. He was holding a glass of brandy in one hand and a half-smoked cigar in the other.

"Needed to escape too?" she asked, looking at his flushed face. Giving her a small smile, he nodded, walking over to her and setting his glass down on the stone railing. Rose eyed the cigar he was smoking, and he offered it to her.

"Do you smoke?"

"Today, yes," she answered, accepting it from him and taking a deep inhale. She immediately began coughing. Stefan chuckled and patted her back while she coughed.

"With a cigar you only inhale into your mouth. You'll make yourself sick if you try to breathe it in."

"Oh," she managed to get out between coughs. Taking another experimental inhale, she found it a much more pleasant experience. After a couple more puffs she handed it back to him, and he set it on the railing beside his drink.

"Is Damien here? I didn't see him come in," Rose asked to break the silence. She'd yet to see him since her tour in February and was waiting for her N.E.W.T.s results to come in before starting at the lab.

"No, I didn't invite him, it would have been too painful," Stefan said, sipping his brandy and leaning against the railing. He looked tired.

"How long have the two of you been a couple…" she trailed off wondering if she was overstepping a boundary.

"It's a bit of a messy story," Stefan said ruefully. "It's been an on and off thing since Hogwarts. He usually wises up and leaves me after a few months and then we won't talk for years. This time we've been together for… almost a year, so we're past due for a falling out."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry," Rose said guiltily, she could tell it was a painful subject. Stefan shrugged at her, ashy green eyes following a peacock that wandered across the garden below them.

"It's my own fault. He wants commitment, and I can't risk taking our relationship public." Before their conversation earlier that day, Rose would have assumed that he meant he couldn't risk the public fallout for his own reputation. But after seeing his expression when he warned her about Margot, she wondered if he wasn't more worried for what might happen to Damien.

"Besides," Stefan said with a forced smile. "Damien typically has men and women falling all over him. Eventually he'll find someone he's better off with. For a little while there I thought he was going to wind up with his secretary, but she didn't want kids and he does."

"Don't give up," Rose said and then snapped her mouth shut, a light blush rising to her cheeks. "I—I just mean, if you really love each other you shouldn't let that go."

She felt a bit childish saying this as she realized that Stefan deciding to marry her was a very tangible sign that giving up was exactly what he had in mind. She was very embarrassed to find that she'd begun to tear up once again. To her relief, he didn't chide her or look angry but gave her an understanding look while she got her emotions back in check.

"Who was he?" Damien asked invitingly, and despite her better judgement, Rose found herself spilling the story of how she had fallen in love with Remus Lupin over the last year and how he had left her. She was surprised by what a good listener he was—he didn't interrupt her or pull faces at the knowledge that Remus was both a werewolf and had been her Professor. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and let her lean against him while she spoke and cried. Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket towards the end of her story he offered it to her, and she patted her face dry with it.

"I have to admit, after how the pair of you were acting over Christmas, I'm a bit surprised it wasn't Professor Snape," Stefan chuckled, and Rose's face darkened in a deep blush. His eyebrows lifted in sudden comprehension. "Oh… into authority figures I see."

Rose slapped him lightly on the chest and giggled. He was smiling at her, and it made his normally serious face look quite welcoming. It was almost a pity. Had Stefan been attracted to women, she could see that love might have developed between them—she quite enjoyed his company. His smile turned sad, and she was wondering if he was having a similar thought.

"Rose… if you don't want to go through with this, we can call it off, I can take care of everything," he said seriously. She shook her head instantly. She could not deal with another emotional rollercoaster at the moment—especially one that would throw her in the path of her family's ire and disappointment. She could only imagine how much more stifling the manor would feel then. Besides, Remus had left. Her pride refused to let her go crawling back to Snape. And the thought of being alone with her broken heart terrified her. What reason did she have to refuse?