Chapter 17

"Life has a way of testing a person's will, either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen at once." – Paulo Coelho

The following day brought with it an air of misery that clung like a fog to all inhabitants within the castle. It took Bex almost a half hour to convince herself to climb out of bed, only to find that the world outside her window remained unchanged, mocking all of their grief. The students would be returning home today. Minus one. That was the reality of the situation, and it pressed down on her shoulders, accompanied by the weight of collective sorrow.

"I've already put the kettle on, dear."

Bex turned, greeting Septima in the doorway with a somber, asymmetric smile.

"Thanks, Auntie."

Her great aunt considered her for only a split second before she opened her arms wide; in spite of herself, Bex rushed to them without another word. She laid her head on Septima's pillow-soft chest, and allowed herself just this one brief moment of weakness. Where she was the one being comforted and soothed, rather than the other way around. What her aunt said next, however, had Bex lifting her head with a groan.

"Call me overprotective –"

"Oh, I will!"

"– all you want, Rebecca, but it is not wise to go anywhere alone with that man."

"That man? Auntie"– Bex gave the professor a pointed look –"you've been coworkers for exactly how many years now?"

"Which brings me back to the point I was attempting to make last night!"

Bex sighed, and shook herself out of Septima's hold, going off in search of that kettle.

"Auntie…"

"I've known the man for over a decade now, and he's hardly on a first-name basis with anyone on staff."

"Except Minerva."

Septima wrinkled her nose. "Who has known him since he was eleven years old."

Bex skipped tea in favor of coffee, and had to talk herself out of spiking her morning brew with an Invigoration Draught. She sidestepped Septima's trunk that stood alone in the middle of the sitting room, and transfigured the guest bed back into a sofa before taking a seat.

"I would ask if that excludes the headmaster as well – but Severus is hardly on a first-name basis with him, despite how close they appear."

Septima sat down next to her with her own cup of tea, propping weary feet up on a footstool. She looked at her niece with nothing but warmth and concern shining in her eyes. "I only want you to simply consider my point of view on the matter because I care about you, Rebecca."

"I know you do, Auntie."

"And I don't care that Albus Dumbledore spoke up for him in the Death Eater trials –"

"Circe's sweet –!"

"– the fact that he was involved with them at all, at any point, is more than enough of a reason for me to believe he could have ill intentions."

Bex had to quickly gulp her – scalding hot – beverage to occupy her mouth with something else before she accidentally revealed Severus' status as a spy. For the first time, she was overwhelmed by the multitude of potential conflicts that being an Order member presented to her daily life. Of course, she was grateful for this knowledge and any other intelligence that could help keep her small family – and her students – safe.

"He has no ill intentions, Auntie," she pressed. "Especially where it comes to me." She almost winced with how stupidly weak-kneed she sounded to even her own ears. "Besides – we're only going to Miyairi-jo. Nothing will happen to me there, remember?"

"I'll hex the skin off his back if it does."

They finished their tea and coffee in amiable silence until the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed seven. Then, they rose to say their final goodbyes.

"Please promise me you'll be careful around that damn volcano?"

"It doesn't feel right to leave you – for research… in light of all that's happened."

In light of all that will happen, thought Bex. And for that reason alone, she could tolerate – and empathize with, to a degree – her aunt's overprotective attitude. About Severus. About leaving Hogwarts. During the first war, Bex was so young, and so sheltered away in the mountains, the horrors of it were mere whispered on her doorstep; Septima, on the other hand, found herself being an unwitting front row seat participant to Voldemort's cruelty, along with the rest of their world.

Of course she would worry beyond comprehension, given the headmaster's announcement.

Given Cedric's murder.

Bex stamped down all of those thoughts, and forced a saddened smile that appeared more or less a grimace.

"The wheel of life will keep turning, Auntie." A spark of recognition in Septima's eyes meant Bex's words had landed right where she needed them. "That's what you said.. when… anyways, that's what I try to live by. What I've tried to live by… I.. you just have to keep turning with the wheel, you know? You have to."

Septima sniffed. She pulled her niece into one more hug that was more for herself than the recipient.

"My brave, beautiful girl."

There was so much Bex wanted to say but couldn't, and so, she simply smiled with a gentleness that radiated from her soul.

"I'll come visit the cottage soon."

"Tuh! I've half a mind to sell it and move into Miyairi-jo!"

"Auntie, you love Naples! And that cottage!"

"Ah! But I love you more. Anyhow – just a passing thought. Time will be the teller of all things…"

When the green flames of the Floo Network cleared from her hearth, and when Bex could no longer compartmentalize Cedric's death – Voldemort's return – she sank back down on the sofa and cried. She wasn't sure how long she sobbed for poor Cedric, who must have been so terrified in those final moments – for Harry, compelled to bring his classmate's body back. For Severus. For their future. For Muggles. Muggleborns – Hermione Granger. She cried until her tears were reduced to hiccups, and before she had a chance to get up, clean her face, a call was coming through the Floo.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, a sniffle following the expletive as if to emphasize her point. She hoped it wasn't Severus trying to reach her.

She dropped to her knees in front of the fireplace, careful that she didn't singe her robes in the process.

"Bex? Hey! What the hell?!"

"Rowan, not –"

"Have you been crying?"

"...no."

"Let me through."

"Ugh, Rowan…" In spite of her meager protests, Bex did not do anything else to stop her best friend from coming through. The fire had just barely ceased from dancing around him before he was crossing the hearth – scooping Bex up into yet another hug. (She was truly beginning to feel a little touched-out, but hugged him back all the same.)

Bex squeezed him tightly, but truly, her moment was already passing; tears dried on her cheeks; emotions too powerful, too painful to process she tucked away for the time being. Rowan guided her to sit, telling her what he'd heard from a Healer friend at St. Mungo's.

"Cedric Diggory – is he really…?"

Bex felt her eyes close. She counted to five. When she opened her eyes, and spoke, her voice wasn't so much a whisper as it was simply hoarse.

"Yes. He is dead."

Rowan raked a hand through short curls. "Oh, shit, Bex… you.. you were right about the stupid tournament. Merlin, that poor kid. I'm so, so sorry…"

A chasm opened in Bex's throat; it swallowed the words she wanted to say, forced her lungs to expand around the hollow ache that resided in her. She opened her mouth to say the words, deliver that devastating blow that would change the course of their lives forever.

Voldemort's returned.

There. It was so simple.

And yet, the words continued dying on her tongue, before they could move past her lips. In the end, she gathered the worn remains of her courage and stowed it away neatly, to be mended later; they would have the entire summer, she rationalized, to agonize for the state of their world. Perhaps the Prophet would even – eventually – help her fill in the gaps so that the burden did not fall to her completely.

The air around her felt stifling, thick with unvoiced confessions. The concern in Rowan's gaze was severely lacking a particular sort of gravity that spoke to the true horrors of the situation. A relentless anguish she'd seen in her own eyes – in her aunt's, in Dumbledore's, Severus', and, most hauntingly, in Harry's. She wondered if this calm before the storm would prove to be all of their undoing. She took a deep breath, gave his hand a small squeeze.

"I don't… want to talk about it," she whispered.

He appeared more hurt and confused than he was surprised that she wouldn't go into further detail. He glanced around he sitting room, on uneven footing with her for the first time in… Had there ever been a time where he did not know how to proceed with her?

"Alright, alright… nothing heavy. I got you. Wanna tell me why you're not fully packed yet?"

She flashed him a sheepish little grin that did not reach her eyes.

"I think you know why."

"Enlighten me, please?"

She swallowed softly. "I'm staying. Hybrid. I have to… now."

He blew out a breath, slow and steady, as though to collect his thoughts in the meantime.

"I can't say I blame you – any honest Healer worth their salt would stay." He frowned, sadness curling around him like a wintertime cloak. "I also can't say we – I – don't miss you already. Terribly."

Bex looked down. "I'll still be around Erinlẹ's."

Rowan huffed a laugh. "As if that's enough these days. We hardly see each other – and, not to sound dramatic or anything, but my complexion is suffering for it."

That drew a genuine chuckle out of her. She was grateful – would always be grateful – for him.

"Would some good news help your complexion?"

"…maybe.."

"I had a breakthrough." She realized with the tournament and everything… else, she had yet to tell her best friend of her success.

"In your research?" His eyes grew wide, brows reaching impossible heights.

She nodded. "I have every reason to believe that the board will want to move to trials. Once they see my results."

Rowan's jaw dropped. "Does that mean…?"

"Yup." She smiled, a little wider now.

"You've found the cure."

"Potentially. Very likely."

"Holy shit, Bex!"

He was out of his seat now, hands in the air, on his head. "How long were you going to continue just sitting on this?!" She didn't miss the sting of – was that hurt? – in his voice, so fleeting, she could've just imagined it. She cringed lightly.

"I –" Her mind played out the last few months – the tournament, Sirius Black's role in Harry's life, Viktor's near-fatal injury, the Night Circus, Voldemort – and she clawed herself back to the surface before she could be taken under.

"I… time got away from me this term. With everything, you know?"

"Yeah…" Rowan did not seem convinced, but maintained his smile for her all the same.

"Tell me about your research," she pivoted tactfully, nudging his knee. "How goes –?"

"Something as mundane as detoxifying aconite to treat blood disorders? Hmm, not nearly as cool as finding a cure for the Hearteater Virus."

She matched his playful smirk with one of her own. She stood, and snatched his hand. "I still wanna hear all about your conclusion! Come with me to the greenhouses before the students get up – clearly, there's much to discuss."

As they walked out on the grounds, Bex allowed herself to be swept away by Rowan's chatter, letting the Capture Unit that hovered above fade into the background as much as possible. The world around them was quiet and still, and she couldn't help but think perhaps the earth was listening as intently as she. The friends linked arms, Rowan shouldering some of the heaviness in her soul… despite not fully knowing what resided there. In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder why Cedric wasn't worthy of living to enjoy quiet mornings like this. With his peers and classmates, unburdened by fate's heavy hand – blissfully unaware of depravity and death. She wrestled with the terror that consumed her at the very thought of Severus being sent before Lord Voldemort, again and again.

Before she was lost to that particular line of thinking, they came to Greenhouse Six. She blinked, and grinned at Rowan's wide-eyed amazement. They entered the greenhouse without incident; they collected the fungi she'd been cultivating for the better part of the year; they made their way back to the castle after Rowan explored four out of six greenhouses; Bex insisted he stay to help her close out her duties in the Hospital Wing – storing potions, restoring stasis charms, ensuring the bed linens were clean – just to prolong their time together. Eventually, when the castle had begun awakening, students trickling in to say their goodbyes to the new matron, they could no longer hold onto one another. Rowan insisted on traveling back to Chicago through Hogsmeade; there were things he said he wanted to buy that couldn't be found in the States.

"Have still yet to formally meet Mr. Mysterious," he'd said on his way out.

Bex laughed. "It'll happen this summer. It has to."

He left, and the heaviness slowly crept its way back into her body. Even amidst her students' (albeit somber) wishes for a good summer, the threat of what was to come loomed like a foreign object lodged in her stomach. Or, perhaps, her lungs – as the implications of Lord Voldemort's return stole her breath away with every inhale. As, already, children were dying at his hand. The feeling clung to her even as Severus came to meet her in the infirmary; he took one look at her and it was like he knew. Bex wasn't sure how, but she was certain that he knew every fear – every agonizing worry, and the daunting panic that underscored it all. Without a word, he'd drawn her close. Kissed her forehead, and held his lips there for a long while. They drew strength from each other – enduring, just as they always had.

There was a shadow in her peripheral vision, and she smiled.

"I was hoping you'd also come to say goodbye."

Bex held out her arm, offering it to Ezra to use as a perch. The crow squawked at her, landing just below her wrist.

"He is young," Severus commented.

The sudden appearance of her familiar somewhat lightened her steadily decaying mood. Earlier, she could do nothing but watch the students depart to the train station, encumbered by the weight of their lost schoolmate. It had almost been too much to bear. For a lot of them, this was their first brush with death, and they were processing accordingly. Just as many intimately knew the thestrals that drove the carriages to the Hogsmeade Station and back. Some wore masks of indifference – others, alarm and trepidation. And there was so little she could've actually done to help them. And she could do even less, now, as they were already halfway back to London.

Ezra had to have picked up on her distress, somehow swooping through the air just as she and Severus stepped outside the castle.

"I'll be back in a few months," she told him.

"Why not bring him with us?" Severus' use of the word 'us' did not go unnoticed.

"I can't see myself sticking him in a cage." She stroked the feathers around Ezra's head, and he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch much like she does when Severus holds her face. "Plus, this is his home. I can't take him away from all he's ever known."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Very well. Shall we?" To make a point of his readiness to leave, he charmed both of their trunks to roll along behind them as they traveled beyond the anti-Apparition wards.

"And you call your students insufferable," Bex chuckled. Severus scowled at her in response, and began walking ahead at a faster pace.

"Don't mind him," she whispered to Ezra, who warbled and hopped up her arm to perch on her shoulder.

If Severus heard her, he chose not to reply.

The sun beamed down on the grassy hillsides of the school, casting out longer, deeper shadows that seemed to sigh in relief at the warming weather. The sweet smell of wildflowers filled the air. Birds chirped, and, if she strained her ears enough, Bex could hear the centaur herd in the Forbidden Forest, traveling through the woods at a gallop. Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds seemed so… peaceful. A clear contrast to all they had endured the past few days.

"You've gotta go now," Bex said, attempting to shrug Ezra off of her shoulder, "otherwise you're in for a very uncomfortable trip."

Her attempts to shoo him away… failed. Remarkably. Ezra clung with sharp talons to her shoulder, completely unbothered. Not certain of what to do now, Bex looked from the little crow to Severus, and back again. The Potions Master wore an amused look upon his face, in spite of his impatience mere minutes prior.

"It appears our unanticipated companion has something on his mind that he would like to share."

Ezra pulled on her hair a bit at Severus' words, eliciting a reflexive, "Ow!" He then pivoted his head and screeched at the tall wizard, whose playful smirk fell immediately – to be replaced by a deep frown. They locked eyes for a moment before Severus inclined his head towards the corvid.

Finally satisfied, Ezra warbled, and stretched inky wings before swooping into the air. Bex watched him go in surprise, missing his presence straight away.

"What was that about?" She turned to Severus with raised brows.

He also watched Ezra go, until the bird was just a dot in the sky. It was clear to both of them that he was flying back to Hogwarts. When he answered her, Severus' voice was soft, which she had come to realize he typically only used to help mask emotion… of any kind.

"He wanted to be sure that I would…" As his words dropped off, he turned away from the horizon to look at her fully, the sunlight behind him creating a glowing outline.

"That I would keep you safe," he finished in a whisper. Then, he cleared his throat and physically grabbed ahold of her trunk as though to anchor himself. His demeanor shifted – he was back to business.

"Lead the way," he said, holding out his arm.

Bex was quite proud of herself. In spite of the fact that what he'd just told her left her a bit weak in the knees, when she stepped closer to him, it didn't show. She held her head up, shoulders back, locking eyes with the wizard who somehow managed to steal her heart against all odds. She placed her arm in his and Disapparated on the spot, taking him along with her.

When they arrived at a stream near the foot of Mount Kita, in her usual Apparition area, far away from any mountain huts and wandering eyes, it was almost pitch-black with darkness. Almost, because the numerous constellations shining brightly in the skies above actually illuminated the alps in a spectacular way. There was such an abundance of stars, neither one needed to use Lumos in order to see the path ahead. Instinctively, Bex grabbed his hand, leading him up the side of the mountain. They did not need to worry about being seen by Muggles, as it was a little after midnight and well below freezing – the latter not being an issue for either witch or wizard.

The alpine vegetation winding up the mountain to Miyairi-jo was lush and plentiful. Bex noted Severus subtly observing his surroundings in the way only a double agent would. She gave his hand a little squeeze, and he glanced at her sharply before his expression immediately softened. He squeezed her hand back.

Soon, the two came to the korai-mon – the outer gate. They had to pause while Bex keyed Severus into the wards at first the main gate, and then the secondary tower gate along the inner wall. Severus was silent as she led him through a labyrinth of corridors, down to the courtyard and the grounds proper. She freed his hand when they stepped onto soft, sprawling grass.

The cherry trees, always so inviting, shook in the wind that was always so much warmer within the castle walls; Bex could already taste the sweet juice of a plum from one of the many fruit trees. To her own surprise, she was happy to be back home, and so she just spent a moment, soaking in the rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature change at Miyairi-jo.

When she opened her eyes – when had she closed them? – she was met with an endlessly dark, inquisitive stare.

"Your ancestral home is… astounding," he said, and based on the intensity of his look, Bex had to wonder if it was only Miyairi-jo to which he was referring.

"You should've seen it years and years ago," replied Bex, folding her arms around herself. "Even at this hour, Miyairi-jo was bustling. Alive."

"I – prefer it this way," he said, picking an imaginary piece of lint off of her shoulder.

Her lip curled upward in a small, impish smile. "I guess it can have its advantages. No one around to interrupt."

"Behave, or we will not be finishing this tour tonight." He removed his hand and walked a few paces, suddenly captivated by a cluster of magical fungi growing near one of the few garden benches.

Bex's smirk fell a bit watching him. He must have felt her shift in mood because he looked up from inspecting the new flora… but he said nothing. He was waiting, patiently, for her to speak first.

"My mother would sit there," she whispered at last, past the unexpected lump in her throat. "With me between her legs, facing away, and she would just spend… hours braiding my hair. She could have done it in less time with magic. She didn't. She hired caregivers – au pairs and a governess – for most tasks, especially when her disease worsened, but.. never that."

She was brought up short by the flood of memories that almost knocked the wind out of her. She had to concentrate to actually hear what Severus was saying to her now.

"– and you must miss her a great deal."

"I do." Bex shook her head a little, and sighed. "What about your mother? Your father? You never talk about them."

Severus stood lithely. "Both – gone. Same as your own."

"Well, of course you're an orphan like me. I only meant –"

"What the bloody hell do you mean by 'of course'?"

"Well, any man who dresses like you do had to have also tragically lost his parents, no?"

"And just what is wrong with the way I dress?"

"Nothing! I actually think all the layers are very sexy…"

He narrowed his eyes at her, lips thinning to a straight line.

"...even though I know it's primarily because you're anemic with a mild to moderate vitamin D deficiency."

Bex was still giggling over a minute later when an exasperated Severus picked a corridor opposite of the one they had come from, and began to wander.

"Hey – where are you are going?" she called, jogging after him.

"The kitchens." His response was curt. "If I am to continue being mocked, I would at least like to do so over a cup of tea."

Thoroughly convinced if he was truly incensed, he would no longer be interested in staying, Bex tried to let his tone roll off of her. She had mocked him, after all… but it was a joke, and in good fun. Still, she had to know –

"I.. didn't hurt you, did I?"

He looked at her, bewildered. "What? Hurt me how?"

"J-Just now? Your –" she stumbled over the word, her voice suddenly sounding quite childish to her ears "– feelings?"

He smirked, this one forming slowly on his face, and a huff of laughter pushed past his lips.

"Silly girl. If my feelings were hurt, believe me – you would know it. As it stands, there is next to nothing you could say to me in jest that would actually wound me."

Resolutely ignoring the fluttering in her chest, Bex once again grabbed his hand, gently, steering him down a hall towards the main keep. She decided to save him some embarrassment by not acknowledging the way he was going went directly to the bath houses and onsen.

Severus stared openly at – everything. The long line of family portraits along the walls looked down on him in curiosity as he ran a hand along the kumon embedded into the wood of the surface – perhaps drawn to the raw magic there. He studied the lanterns, the tapestries, the runes carved into every structural post. What was he thinking? Was he simply admiring the ancient architecture, or was he trying to place her in these corridors, growing up a lonely child who wasn't ever really left alone? She couldn't be sure. And anyway, they had come to the kitchens now.

He instantly began familiarizing himself in the spacious room, taking a moment to briefly admire all the old cookware that had been in her family for generations. It brought a smile to Bex's face, seeing him operate with all the precision he used in the lab. She quickly fetched some tea leaves while he prepared the water, and they soon had a delicious brew along with a small spread of food.

"I think it's safe to say we both worked through lunch to get out on time." Bex sat down a platter of pickled vegetables next to the onigiri.

He sank to the floor with no complaining of a lack of chairs. Then, she noticed him hesitate for a split-second before awkwardly picking up the chopsticks she'd automatically laid out.

"Um – sorry, would you like a fork?"

She was already moving to stand, and he shot her a look that read "don't you dare". Eyes narrowed in focus, he grasped the chopsticks and used them to pick up a tiny rice ball. Bex held her breath as the food traveled from point A to point B. His tiny grin of triumph when his mouth closed around the bite made her throw her head back in laughter.

"Well done, love," she praised, upon collecting herself a bit. She poured a healthy cup of oolong-jasmine blend.

"I am a man of many talents," he proclaimed, and she snorted into her teacup.

"At the supper table, darling?"

He cocked a brow. "Mind in the gutter, is it?"

Her entire body flushed. Bex opened her mouth to speak, but was suddenly hit with the realization that, far away from Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic that was on the verge of collapse, they… were alone. Free from prying eyes. Free of speculation.

Free to act out any carnal desires they had. Whenever they had them.

"Rebecca?" he drawled.

She blinked hard. "Finish your tea," she ordered in a voice that was thankfully only slightly hoarse. "I want to show you the bedrooms next." Bold, she knew, but she hardly cared in that moment.

They hadn't even had proper sex yet.

His obsidian eyes widened a bit, then flashed dangerously before he downed his tea in only a few gulps, definitely scalding his throat. They were on the same page now, and his magic reached out to caress her. She bit back a hiss of pleasure.

"As delectable as this spread is" – he rose to his feet, casting a stasis over the food they only just prepared – "there is nothing I desire more right now than to dine on you. So – the bedrooms?"

The owl that came barreling into the window quickly doused the arousal coursing through the pair. Bex leapt to her feet with an "oh, shit!" and Severus sprung into action, sliding the window open and letting the little owl inside.

"That's not a Hogwarts owl," Bex said, "nor any owl I recognize."

Severus wore a grim frown as he untied a missive from the owl's leg. His voice was so low that Bex struggled to hear him.

"It's the Weasley's owl."

"The Weasley's owl? How did the Weasleys –?"

"Not them. Dumbledore."

The letter was addressed to Severus, and he ripped it open with a harsh sigh.

"How did he know…?" Severus would be here? The exact location of Miyairi-jo, which remained unmarked on most maps?

"Because he is an annoying, meddlesome old man who, even at the ripe age of one hundred and whatever the fuck, has yet to learn and understand the full meaning of boundaries."

He said that last word so angrily, the parchment crinkling between his hands, that Bex was certain the issue had been cause for consternation between the two on a number of occasions. She gave him a minute to read the letter, watching the line between his brows deepen. A vein in his temple appeared, and he closed his eyes a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Severus – what's wrong?"

"I must go." He folded the headmaster's note, tucking it away in his robes. He was refusing to make eye contact with her. Again.

"Now?"

"Now."

"You've only just left the school!" He turned away, silent, and she moved to stand in his way, effectively blocking his way out. "Tell me what's happened."

He grasped her shoulders firmly, squeezing just the slightest bit to emphasize the words he said next.

"I will tell you… when I can."

Her eye twitched. "Not good enough."

There it was. Conflict. Clear as day on his face. His eyes roamed over her until they finally settled on her own.

"The werewolf attacks," he began, and Bex felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees all at once. "They are being conducted by Fenrir Greyback." His eyes darkened impossibly, something lethal and virulent and murderous simmering just beneath the surface. "I learned from the Dark Lord himself that Poppy Pomfrey was killed at the hands of that monster."

Silence befell them. She had no words.

"And we have now learned, for reasons that still remain unclear, his interests have begun extending past mediwitches. Past healers altogether."

Her eyes widened in fear. "Who?"

He tugged her closer, kissed the top of her head. "When I can. And not a moment sooner." She allowed him to pull her in, wrapping her arms around his thin, strong frame. She inhaled him deeply, committing his scent further to memory as he said, "I will be back as soon as I'm able. And not a moment later. I swear it."

"Take some food for the road, at least," she muttered into his chest, and his laughter rumbled in her ears. So this is what it's like to love a spy, she thought. He gave her one final squeeze and let her go, whisking around her and stalking off in search of his shoes; two onigiri levitated along behind him. Bex smiled in a way that didn't quite reach her eyes, and followed the line out of the kitchens.

RK + SS

Earlier that same day saw one former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor smoking a cig outside the hostel where he was currently residing. The glow of the cigarette illuminated a scarred and rugged – but young – face. He was clearly savoring the sweet taste of the nicotine, utterly lost in his thoughts as he gazed off into the distance. Sheets of rain fell in heavy torrents; he watched the fat drops hit the cobbled pavement, inhaling and exhaling large clouds of smoke. He wanted to go see his best friend, but was under strict orders from Dumbledore to stay away from Grimmauld Place unless a meeting was called. It made him feel useless – not only was he not able to be there for Sirius, but he also couldn't be there for Harry. The thought of young Harry returning to Privet Drive after the year he'd endured – it made Remus physically ill. If he wasn't cursed with Lycanthropy, living on the fringes of society, he could provide James' son with another home away from home, like the Weasleys.

Remus dragged the cig down to the very last. It was a disgusting habit, really. Sirius had gotten him into it, and Remus couldn't deny that it took the edge off of… poverty. Especially in days leading up to the full moon.

He stamped out the cigarette under a booted foot, then ducked into the hostel, spelling his clothes dry from the rain. The hostel owner gave him a wary look; Remus nodded in acknowledgment, used to the community's staring and glaring. It was getting closer to that time of the month, which meant he would soon be moving on from this particular location. He sighed, and began wearily climbing the stairs to his room on the third floor. Exhaustion made a home in every inch of his body following the first assignment he'd received since the Order was officially reinstated.

His was the only room on this floor (certainly not by chance)… so when he came to the landing, just outside the door, and felt an unfamiliar presence lurking, Remus frowned deeply. The door was still closed. Had that old codger given his room away in the time he'd been gone –? No, surely he would've said something to Remus as he passed the front desk. Besides – he tested the key – it still worked.

The air was thick with tension as Remus pushed open the door and slowly stepped inside. Senses heightened with the approaching full moon, he scented the air and emitted a low, tense growl that was answered with another in kind. Without thinking, his hand reached for his wand but before he could utter a word, the sinister figure of Greyback emerged from the shadows; ugly face twisted into a grin at the obvious upper hand, his sire struck first. It was quick. Brutal. Remus crumpled to the floor with a resounding thud. Pain fanned out from his chest, where he was hit, threatening to leave him unconscious as dark spots entered his vision. His wand slipped out of his grasp and rolled away somewhere in the darkened room.

"Been waiting to do that awhile now," Greyback sneered, cracking the knuckles on one hand.

No, thought Remus viciously, it does not end like this.

He clambered to his feet, much to the older wolf's delight. Greyback dragged a tongue across sharp, yellowed teeth, perhaps thirsting for blood. The room became a battleground of shadows and suppressed snarls, with Remus keenly aware that anyone who came to check on all the noise would simply just get caught in the crossfire.

In their struggle, Remus' thoughts raced – how had Greyback found him? Why had he found him? Why, after all this time, would his sire return to kill him?

The former Defense professor put up a remarkable fight, but the simple fact of the matter was that there existed no reality where he could defeat his maker, whose refusal to regularly take the Wolfsbane potion left his full strength… intact. Remus was eventually overpowered – bloodied, bruised, and lying in a heap at Greyback's feet. A throaty chuckle escaped the depraved creature as he knelt closer to Remus' face – still a healthy distance away, lest his progeny tried to have another go at him.

"Relax, pup," he growled. "I ain't here to kill you. Yet." He gave Remus a pointed glare, which the young man returned, ever the Gryffindor. "Believe it or not, I'm just here to deliver a… message, if you will."

"A – message?"

"Yeah. Sure you know by now the good news?" A cruel grin stretched across Greyback's face, beady eyes shining in a revolting parody of excitement.

Remus only stiffened in response, a knot of sick forming in his stomach. He'd not been there to hear them himself, but Harry's pained screams – the evening of June 24, the evening all of their lives changed forever – were the talk of the entire wizarding community.

"Well, our friend" – Remus cringed at Greyback's use of the word our – "Karkaroff is still on the run, but the coward is trying to offer up quite the reward to his master as penance… hoping his life will be spared. It won't be."

Dread gripped Remus' heart.

No, no, no…

"A certain curly-haired bird. Good with a wand. Close to Potter. Apparently helped him all year."

Remus' mouth went bone dry. Hermione… But she was just a child! What use could Voldemort have with –?

Blind rage consumed the him, but before the younger man could lunge at Greyback, the Alpha brought his fist down hard, knocking Remus' face into the floorboard. The entire room shook with such force, and Greyback sneered down at the younger man.

"Circe's tits, you're weak, runt. All that Wolfsbane, I reckon."

Remus spat blood at his feet, his head reeling. "Why are you –?"

"Thought it might sway you." Greyback came closer, and Remus wanted to reflexively curl in on himself. "This is the last time I'm offering you the protection of the pack. Been building our numbers back up again. Eliminating healers and potion-makers along the way who have a – vested interest in making us ordinary." He leaned further into Remus' personal space, until his hot, foul breath caressed the younger wizard's cheek. Perverted elation was evident in the way his voice shook a little.

"One day soon… no. More. Wolfsbane."

It was a lot to digest – too much. The potion was already hard to come by as it was – and he was lucky, he was so fortunate that he was an Order member, and had access to a Potions Master who provided it for him each month. Others… simply were not as lucky. But, more pressing than that was the desperation that settled in his bones, to somehow escape this predicament as soon as possible and alert Dumbledore that Hermione Granger was (for whatever reason) in grave danger.

"By the time the Dark Lord has returned to full power and called back all his old followers, we'll be ready. With numbers." Greyback sat back on his haunches now, mistaking Remus' calculating silence for rapt interest in his grandiose plans.

"So, what'll it be, pup?" the creature asked, picking dried blood off of his fingernails. "Gonna join the pack? Last chance, then it's off the table."

"Pack?!" Remus hissed, barely able to catch his breath because what if he was already too late. "You've hardly a pack, Greyback! What you have is a group of children, most of whom are barely out of their teenage years, and all of whom are either terrified of you or idolize you for keeping them alive when regular society couldn't be damned to help them off the street!"

Greyback paused for just a split-second, absorbing Remus' words in their entirety – GODS, he's thick – before he stood and delivered the hardest kick he could to Remus' ribs. Remus doubled over, his knees giving out beneath him. A long, pained groan escaped him; he heard the sound of his maker's boots receding. Returning. Something fell – correction, something was thrown at him. He heard it clatter beside his hand. His wand.

"The next time we meet, ain't gonna be so nice, pup." Behind the maliciousness lurked a single thread of genuine regret. Remus lifted his head, with great effort, to see Greyback with one leg already out the window – Ah, so that's how he got in.

"Gonna be a very blood battle – wish we coulda been fighting on the same side. Ah, well. You've made your choice. See ya, runt." He cocked his head a bit, and said with a hellish grin, "Incoming, three o'clock," before disappearing into the rain.

Remus had mere milliseconds to collect himself when he heard a sharp sigh from somewhere above him. In all honesty, his vision was still a little blurred, and his face was likely already swelled from the battering he'd taken. His eyelids fluttered shut.

"You – out," the hostel owner demanded gruffly. "Your kind always ruin it for yourselves. I swear on Merlin's grave, I am done with you lot this time!"

Remus panted through the verbal berating, holding his side with one hand. "I… will leave," he managed through gritted teeth. "But please – let me use your Floo. I must get to Hogwarts as quickly as possible."


A/N: Ooooop!