AUTHOR NOTE: I know, really quick update. Show some restraint, girl. But it's the weekend and I had people asking for the conclusion of Narcissa running up the stairs so, here it is. If you're reading, drop me a line about how you like it and whether Remus/Narcissa is taking over the story too much. I need to make decisions about where certain things are going now. Thanks!

Narcissa Black was never so vulgar as to be caught in a hurry - the way she spoke, the way she sauntered from place to place, the way she drifted down onto chairs like a silk scarf settling over them - hers was a deliberate, luxurious, unhurried pace.

But tonight, she was bolting up the Hogwarts main staircase, her cloak streaming out behind her as she took the steps two at a time. At the top, she crossed the corridor and ran to the bottom of the moving stairs, the ones that would probably not budge under her Slytherin feet to take her to Gryffindor Tower. She was right about that and stood halfway up them, pointed in the wrong direction but able to see to the portrait hole where Remus was waiting while Peter Pettigrew boosted himself inside.

"Lupin!" she called across the open space, unconcerned for once about the possibility of anyone else hearing her.

At the sound of her voice, his shoulder jerked toward his ear but he didn't turn around.

"Quit your sulking and finish talking to me," she called again.

It was Sirius who answered back, his hand on Remus's back, pushing him toward the tower entrance. "Go home, Narcissa. We've had a long day."

"Lupin!" she called again.

His foot was on the edge of the portrait hole, about to step up into it, about to go in for the night with his head full of images of Lucius Malfoy snogging her hand in the Entrance Hall just now. She wouldn't have it, and she called out one more time.

Only, there wasn't a sound - not in the usual way. She opened her mouth, air moved through her throat, but nothing echoed off the vaulted stone walls of the castle stairwell. At least, nothing simple humans could hear. But across the open space, Remus and Sirius both covered their ears and cried out, as if in pain.

"Bloody hell," Sirius said, spinning around to look incredulously at his cousin. "How did - "

"I told you she was part creature," Remus said. "Though I didn't know she could - "

"Stop standing there looking impressed," Sirius said. "Either go inside, or holler back at her to never use that ultrasonic tone with you again."

"Are you coming?" Narcissa called. "I wasn't finished speaking with you when I was interrupted."

Sirius patted Remus's shoulder as he took his place in the portrait hole. "You know what the Black family is like. Don't get too close to her. Don't go anywhere private. Be careful," he said. "I'll expect you up in our room in ten minutes."

Remus nodded, sighing and scuffing to the top of the stairwell, waiting as the stones sensed him there and turned toward him. They were moving, Narcissa holding their bannister and coming along with them. He walked down to where she stood.

"What?" he said.

"No, not in a high traffic area like this," she said. "We can't talk here. Come with me."

"Where?"

"Just over here," she said, pulling on his arm. "The Divination classroom. It's always empty on the weekend."

He followed, hanging back as if he was resisting as she led him by his sleeve. Dumbledore was looking for a new Divination teacher so the class lacked the territorial feel of belonging to any professor in particular. That's not to say it was sparsely decorated. It was full of lush trimmings from previous teachers, giving it a heavy, shadowy feel, lit even in its off hours with the faint blue glow of the crystal balls set on all the low tables. As always, there was nowhere to sit but on the cushions on the floor, so they stood.

Remus closed the door behind himself as she let go of his sleeve. "Alright," he began. "So tell me what else I said to Snape when I was drunk."

"Not a word, actually," she said.

He waited for her to continue but she seemed to be fighting to keep breathing normally, her shoulders rising and falling, one hand on her chest. He frowned, stepping closer. "Narcissa?"

She shook her head. "It's not about what you said to Snape that night. It's about what you said to me."

Even in the dim light, she could see the change in his face. He remembered. He remembered the way he'd held her on the stairs and told her it wasn't right that she belonged to Lucius Malfoy when he, Remus himself, belonged to her.

He fell more than stepped back, recoiling from the mention of it. "If you want an apology, you can have it," he said. "Sorry for what I said. It was inappropriate to speak to a betrothed woman that way and I never would have done it unintoxicated. So you're welcome to forget it. Are you satisfied? Can I leave now?"

"No," she said. "I am not at all satisfied with you saying one thing and then trying to take it back."

He ran his hands through his hair. "How can I not take it back? Malfoy was just here, making a show of fawning all over you and - and kissing you when he knew, he KNEW we were standing right there. Even Moony could read a display like that."

"Don't talk about the werewolf like he's not you," she said, her voice rising. "That's something else you said on the stairs that night." She stepped closer. "You told me you and Moony are the same. But you didn't have to say it. Not to me. I already know."

"So does anyone who cares to look at the Ministry's werewolf registry," he said, getting louder himself.

"You know that is not what I mean." Her voice was quiet again. The distance between them was short enough for her to easily, naturally curve her fingers around his. He startled at her touch, but didn't resist it.

"I mean," she said, "that I know you're part of each other, not separate. I know all sides of you, Lupin. And what's more," she said, the grip of her fingers becoming more insistent, "what perhaps no one else in the world can say, is that I like all sides of you."

His limp hand closed on hers as his voice released a sigh that was almost a sob. He raised their joined hands. Hers was the one he'd seen Lucius Malfoy kiss. Remus had watched as pain flared in his chest, like the wind knocked out of himself, and he'd turned away and bolted up the stairs. Now that he was holding that hand, it seemed like he had no choice but to push it away. Slowly, he bent her arm at her elbow, and pressed her hand against her sternum.

"It's kind of you to say that. But none of it matters," he said, letting go.

"That is not true."

"Yeah, well that doesn't matter either."

"Wait a moment anyway," she said, taking him by his tie and pulling him closer than ever.

He closed his eyes, held his face turned away from her, but he didn't try to leave.

She went on. "Let me see something. We've gone and confused each other. And I don't know for certain anymore whether touching you makes me calm or - or not. Let me see, Lupin."

She rose onto her tiptoes, leaning into him. He tipped back on his heels, slouching against the tapestried wall behind him. She inched forward to stand between his feet. "You've never let anyone kiss you before."

He shook his head, eyes still closed, swallowing hard. "They're hardly queuing up - "

Her hands resettled their grip on his clothes. "Answer me properly. Look at me."

He opened his eyes and turned his head to see her face. The low light had made her eyes dark again, softened the sharp contours of her nose and chin, and in the glow of the crystal balls on the tables behind her, her hair had taken on a blue halo. For him, she was a magical creature even when she wasn't transformed.

He swallowed. "I swore I would never let anyone that close to me. With my nature, I can't be sure I could kiss someone without tearing them apart." His words slowed as he got to the end of his statement, as if he was losing his resolve to say them.

She boosted herself higher, using her grip on him and the friction between her clothes and his to help hold herself up. "I won't force you," she said, her face so close to his she could feel his breath, hot and fast on her skin. "But I am asking you..."

She paused, wondering if she had only imagined the slight inclining of his head toward her.

He spoke into the pause. "Your heart beat, it's…"

"Yes," she said. "Because I'm asking you to kiss me..."

She closed her eyes. For a moment, there was nothing. His hands didn't take hold of her. Nothing pulled her closer. And then, warmth and texture against her lips, tentative, exploratory, like a dog sniffing the closed hand of a stranger. She had invited it but it still startled her, and she opened her mouth to gasp just as Remus moved closer. The smooth curve of his lip touched the wet inner edge of her mouth. The sensation shook through him. She heard his voice, faint but irrepressible, wanting, starving, and she surged into him.

Her hand framed his jawline, her fingers splayed on his cheek, guiding the angle and motion of his face, showing him how to find what he needed in the kiss. But he needed everything, more than she had ever given anyone. Remus was no longer shy but commanding. His arms were around her now, strong and forceful again, one hand in the small of her back, lifting her toward himself, the other holding a great handful of her silky hair. She was breathless, clinging to him, chasing him as he moved his face and hands against her, overwhelmed but desperate for more. She licked at his upper lip and he was there, returning it, deep, and moaning into her again.

It was coming back - their meeting in the forest as werewolf and Veela. He had his tongue on her that night as well, and the glorious madness of it was melding into tonight - the urgency and intimacy.

Her heart beat in his ears. The sound drew his mouth away from hers, kissing down her neck, to the point where her carotid pulse fluttered in her neck. He fell on it, ravenous, sucking the delicate skin over it between his teeth. Her head was thrown back to let him take it, her hands on his shoulders, kneading him into her.

But when her voice sounded in her throat, not loud, vibrating in his mouth, he tore himself away, horrified, panting, his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed.

"What's wrong?" she said in a tiny, breathy voice, staying close as he backed away, her lips brushing his throat as she spoke.

"I wanted," he said, chest heaving, not stilled at all by her hands running over it, inside his outer robes, against his shirt. "I wanted to bite you."

She took his chin between her fingers and tilted his head until he was looking down into her eyes. "But you didn't," she said. "You wouldn't do that. Not to me."

She sprung up to kiss his neck, not like his Veela, with fangs, but with soft, warm lips mouthing the underside of his jaw, melting away any more trepidation he might have had. His arms clamped around her as he bent his knees, sinking along the wall, his face in her hair as he took her to the floor. But their motion dragged too hard on the tapestry behind him, and the rings it was suspended by snapped, sending the heavy, dusty, ancient cloth falling from the ceiling, on top of them.

They came apart and fought their way out from underneath it, emerging to sit side by side on the cold classroom floor, still breathless but now coughing at the dust as well. Remus looked at her and laughed, doing a poor job of smoothing her disheveled hair with one hand. "Look at you," he said. "The elegant Narcissa Black."

"Well on my way to ravished," she said, beating the dust from where it sullied the shoulder of his dress robes. "It's a shame about your clothes. You really did look devastatingly attractive, all dressed up today."

He grabbed at her, pulling her into his lap, facing away from him, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her upper arms to her sides. "Dress robes? Is that what this is all about?" he said, jostling her. "James Potter's wedding clothes?"

She laughed and rocked in his hold. "Well, they don't hurt your case, I will say that."

He dropped his chin onto her shoulder and sighed. "What is this truly all about then?" he said, serious now.

She bowed her head against his temple. "I don't know. All I can say is I couldn't let you go, not tonight, not again. And not with the idea that I feel anything but duty bound to Lucius Malfoy. I don't love him. I don't want him. And I couldn't stand for you to doubt it. Maybe it was as simple as that. I do hope you're not sorry."

He sighed again. "I'm not. I've been suffering exquisitely from wanting to kiss you for days - maybe weeks. But now it's happened, I can't let myself become some creature fancy man you keep on the side for when your human is off Death Eating."

It was crass enough to set her shuddering as he said it. But it wasn't wrong.

"Even if I had no moral objections to it," Remus went on, "running around with you would eventually get me murdered by both your families. I don't need Sirius to tell me that."

She breathed a soft whimper against his face. "I know. I certainly don't want anything to hurt you. But how can I give you up?" she said, her voice falling to a whisper. "How can I ever be content with anything less than you now?"

Remus held her tighter. This couldn't be happening. Here he was, sitting coiled around someone, her softness filling his arms, the taste of her still in her mouth. And she wasn't just anyone, she was Narcissa Black. It couldn't be real. And no matter how perfect everything she said and did was tonight, it probably wouldn't stay real for very long.

"If only not wanting this arranged marriage meant I'd know exactly what to do about," she cupped his knee with her hand, "about this."

He smoothed his rough evening cheek against the hair at her crown. "Go home and sleep on it."

"You're sending me away already?" she said.

"I need to," he answered. "I can't stay here mindlessly devouring you all night."

"Of course you can."

"Well, I shouldn't," he said through a quiet, tormented laugh. "This isn't how I thought my day would end. And I need to take a moment to stand back and think through it."

"Lupin," she whispered into the side of his face. "Don't let this be the last time we meet like this. I'll - I'll do something. I'll go to the library and read everything I can on betrothal law. I'll visit my parents again and force them to listen to what I want."

He sighed again. "If what you really want is to get clear of Malfoy, then don't marry him. But don't be careless with your future either. I can never give you the life you're used to. I've no fortune, and as a registered werewolf, I don't know if I'll ever be able to work - "

"Look, I didn't lure you in here as a ploy to get you to take care of me for the rest of my life," she said, pushing herself out of his lap to kneel in front of where he sat, taking his hands. "Mad James Potter's wedding has got you taking relationships far too seriously today. I can break up with Lucius without instantly making myself a burden on you."

He hung his head. "You're not a burden."

"Oh yes I am," she said, laughing joylessly. "You have no idea how much of a burden I could be. But come back to me anyway. At least one more time. And then maybe another..."

She cradled his cheek in her palm and he raised his head to meet her eyes. She still gave the sense that she glowed in low light - her hair and skin. He reached for her again, his hands on her arms. Beneath his fingers, her flesh was ethereally soft, almost like she wasn't there.

But then he stopped, whistling low and swiping his thumb along the bruise he could see forming on her neck. "Have you got any more of that healing balm? I'm afraid I've gone and marked up your skin."

"Not yet," she said, lifting the hood of her cloak to hide it. "I want to keep it for a little while. Maybe until I wake up in the morning, as if you're still with me through the night." She finally blushed at herself. "Pardon me. My Veela is speaking her mind."

"Don't talk about her as if she's not you," he said as he drew her closer, watching her advance, her eyes were wide and bright. She saw him, looked inside of him, unblinking, unafraid as he kissed her again.

Foolish girl, entreating him to come back to her. He would. Every moment he didn't fight to keep himself away, he would be with her.

"What happened to you?" Peter was standing in the centre of their room, well and truly tangled in his wedding tie as he tried to get free of it.

"Nothing," Remus said, closing the door behind himself and fighting back a grin. He stepped forward, pulling on the end of Peter's tie that released him from the knot.

"Thank the stars you came, Remus," Peter said. "I was just about to throttle myself with it."

Something about hearing Peter say it was like a cold hand passing over Remus's warm mood. He shuddered under it as he slipped out of his own dusty robes.

But Peter was safe and well, tossing his dress robes into a pile on James's empty bed where Sirius's already lay rumpled and scattered. "Really, Remus, what have you been into?" he said, his nose twitching. "It's a bit like - like Sirius, only flowery."

At that moment, the bathroom door banged open. Sirius stood in it, his black hair wet from his shower, arms leaning against the jambs as if he was a model posing in nothing but a towel around his waist. "You call that ten minutes?" he said.

He marched into the bedroom, sniffing hard in Remus's direction. "Aw, you did. Hang it, Remus, you've gone and kissed my cousin."

"He what?" Peter squeaked. "Right after Malfoy stood there and loved her up in front of us all in the Entrance Hall? Won't he have you hunted down like a - erm, well..."

"Yes, he would, Pete," Remus said. "That's why I'm back here already, trying to think it through."

"That shouldn't take long," Sirius said, toweling his hair. "Leave each other alone. There you have it. Nothing else makes sense."

"On the surface, yes," Remus said. "Which is why I need to slow down if I want to think below the surface."

"This is James's fault," Sirius said, glaring up at the ceiling before snapping a T-shirt over his head. "Him up there right now, getting off with his Missus, giving everyone else rash, fanciful ideas."

"Was she a Veela when you did it?" Peter asked.

"She's never not a Veela," Remus said, falling face down on his mattress. "But no, she wasn't transformed, if that's what you mean. She took me aside to tell me how Snape found out about the wedding and then - she just - asked me to kiss her."

"And you obediently obliged?" Sirius railed.

Remus only shrugged.

"Well, how was it?" Peter asked, glancing warily at Sirius. "Your first kiss, mate. That's - something."

"Well," Remus said, sitting up. "I didn't turn into a beast and tear her throat out, so I'm calling it a success."

"A high bar indeed," Sirius said.

Remus tossed a pillow at him. "It was a very nice kiss."

Sirius threw the pillow back with more force. "You end up on the floor?"

Remus's cheeks flushed and he turned his face to the window.

"By the stars," Peter marveled. "Our Remus and Narcissa Black."

Sirius hated it, growling out a change of subject. "So what's this about her having news of Snape?"

Remus explained about Snape hurrying off to tell Tom Riddle about James and Lily being married as soon as he finished sending the Evanses off to try to spoil the wedding. "Narcissa seemed to think it was dangerous for the Death Eaters to know about the wedding, but I'm not sure about that," he said. "Now that it's made, the marriage strengthens their power, so isn't it a good thing that he knows not to trifle with them anymore?"

Peter was frowning. "Maybe he'll turn his attention to Alice now."

Sirius patted Peter's shoulder. "Poor old Pete. You had a rough time today, didn't you mate? Watching Alice and Frank getting all caught up in the soulmate talk."

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's a better excuse than many for being thrown over."

"We'll find you someone new," Sirius said. "I'll ask Marlene. Maybe that nice Dorcas she shares a room with now Lily's moved upstairs?"

Peter and Remus shared a look. Sirius had a rather sordid history with girls, but most of it was based on snogging misadventures and showy dates. They'd never known him to be in love with anyone, not even in the longing, one-sided way Peter felt for Alice. He still approached girlfriends like a young boy, as if they were somewhat interchangeable.

"Right, Rus, thanks," was all Peter would say for now. "So who's going up there to tell James that Riddle knows he's married?"

"No one," Remus and Sirius said in unison.

"We won't go looking for the happy couple until they emerge on their own," Sirius said. "Let them carry on in their perfect dreamworld as long as they can."

Remus fell backward on his bed. "Dreamworld," he said. "Yeah, that's nice."

"James Potter! Put something on before you go to the window," Lily said, throwing the coverlet from the bed after him. "Some poor young person in the astronomy tower is going to learn much more than they bargained for about the Head Boy tonight if you're not careful."

He winked at her as he slung the blanket carelessly over one shoulder. "I thought so," he said. "That racket was this owl, flying up here with a picnic basket. Thank the stars. This means they don't expect us to report for dinner all tousled and flushed."

She tucked a sheet around herself as he crashed back onto the bed, holding the basket aloft.

"It's from Madam Pomfrey," she said. "Oh, lots of specially charmed cranberry juice. Marked especially for me."

"Odd," he said.

She rolled her eyes, "Not really. Drink your water."

The sun had gone down and the room was getting cold, just as McGongall had predicted. Their dinner eaten, cranberry juice taken, the newest Potter family lay in bed together, warm and unspeakably happy.

"My one regret from today," James said, "is not taking some of that wedding cake with us when we left."

Lily smiled against his chest. "I do wish we'd brought that book too," she said, linking their hands together. "Your Aunt Bathilda's rare book, the one your mum promised us as a wedding present."

James nuzzled his face into her hair. "That's alright with me. I don't feel much like reading tonight."

She breathed a soft laugh and nestled closer to him. "I'm anxious to get started on that new magic though. Now that I have this life, I want to keep it, all prophecies of doom be hanged."

"Speaking of doom, I suppose we won't be telling your parents about any prophecies," James said.

Lily hummed. "They handled everything quite well this morning. But I don't know if they can take much more. And now they'll be at home dealing with Petty finding out I got married before she did. Honestly, I try to be a good sister. I don't mean to perturb her. But I can't seem to stop myself."

James kissed her forehead. "You've done nothing wrong, love. And if it makes you feel better, we can be sure not to conceive our chosen one until she and Vernon have Mitch and Cheryl's first grandchild already underway."

Lily sighed. "I suppose that's for the best in more ways than one. I can't imagine I'd want to be writing my NEWTs with a belly full of baby. Blame Mum. She always made it sound like being pregnant so young was a complete disaster for her."

"Well, it was Petunia," he said.

She chirped and batted his arm, laughing. "Be good."

James peered at the clock he couldn't read without his glasses. "Is it time to renew the contraception charm yet? I mean, unless you don't want to…anymore today."

She was rising onto her elbow beside him, her hand tracing the contours of his torso. "You'd better renew it," she said in a voice like a cat's purr. "Quick as you can." She was shifting, hovering over him.

His eyes widened, "Yes, Madam Potter." He lay back to let her take the lead, barely finishing the charm before there were no more words.

Far below the Potters' honeymoon, Severus Snape paced the gravel paths of the Hogwarts courtyard, livid, whispering poison to himself.

The Evanses, those hapless rubes, had failed to stop the wedding. The soulbond between Lily and Potter was made, and the Dark Lord was furious that Snape hadn't come to him to stop it first. Snape shuddered as he paced, imagining what that would have accomplished - the Dark Lord attacking Potter manor with the entire Order of the Phoenix inside. It would have been a declaration of all out war. No one wanted that.

Did they?

"Potter thinks he's made her safe," he muttered. "Thinks this can't be undone. Oh, he'll be wanting her pregnant with that prophesied child now. Thinking it's salvation when it's ruin, a death warrant for all of them."

He stopped his pacing to look up at Gryffindor Tower. Is that where Lily was, at this moment, with that filthy, arrogant - ?

It was unbearable.

No, he had to bear it.

Severus Snape was still alive because he had a claim as a student to stay here in the castle, close to Dumbledore and the soulmates, watching and listening. Prophecies came in threes. The first was the one everyone knew, about the rise of the soulmates and their child. The second was the one he'd discovered in Lily Evans's office, identifying her and Potter as one of the promised pairs.

The third was yet to come. It would reveal the precise connection between the soulmates and the Dark Lord. It would be powerful, as good as a weapon. That was what the Dark Lord believed. If Snape missed it -

He bit his fist at the thought of it, his flesh salty with the dried sweat of a harrowing day. If he missed the final prophecy, the Death Eater movement might have no more use for him, a half-blood nobody. No one was graciously let go from the Death Eaters. Parting ways with them would mean his destruction.

This mission couldn't fail. He couldn't fail. There was no one else. Regulus was useless as a helper in this, working on other business, secrets the Dark Lord deemed Snape unworthy to know. Narcissa couldn't be counted on, cross as she was from his failed attempt at Legilimency on her. Leave her to Malfoy. Mulciber and Avery would do as they're told, but they were too dim to think beyond following orders.

It was up to Snape alone to be the Dark Lord's eyes and ears, his mind in Hogwarts, open to receive the final prophecy. Snape had to wait until it arrived, find it out, and reveal it. He could do it. He had to. And to keep from hating himself, he must do it all while getting James Potter killed, and keeping Lily alive.