Authors' Note: You may have noticed Part Three is missing. This is due to the rating of that part being above what is allowed on this archive. However, that said, you do not have to have read that part to understand this one. Hence why we have gone ahead and posted this group of stories without it.
Also, thank you very much to our amazing beta, D'arcy (savageland), who rocks our socks and whose talents we are forever grateful for.
The Inevitable
The streets of Banbury were quiet this time of night. Children long ago called in for dinner were now busy watching television, talking on the phone, playing some sort of game, or in all too rare cases, reading a particularly interesting tale.
The lamplights here on the short dead-end road that was Falcon Close were dim. Whatever illumination they attempted to cast upon the undistinguished street had been long since defeated by the thick and seemingly never-ending fog that persisted now over Britain. A fog that had Muggle fingers pointing at each other in blame, yet they were completely unaware of the true cause of this perplexing meteorological state.
On this humid July night, the strange miasma only helped to make the still air even more sticky and close, and a bead of sweat trickled from temple to chin of the lone man watching a semi-detached house from the mists.
He resembled nothing so much as a tramp, his ragged and patched robes hanging from his thin form, and his greying light-brown hair insisting, much to his silent chagrin, on flopping, sweat dampened, into his face.
Pushing the soaked strands back again with a sigh, he returned to his contemplation of the very ordinary red brick house. A house that was dear to him. A home of sorts, though he had never lived there. Even now in the fog that dulled its brightly lit façade, he could feel the warmth that radiated from within its four walls. And yet, despite that, he was only here because he must…because of duty…albeit one partly born of love.
A figure moved past the window inside the house “ the kitchen, he surmised to himself. It was an ordinary home with an ordinary family going about their evening, and from happy experience, he knew exactly what this normal Muggle family would be doing right about now -- Mother doing the washing up and likely starting a load of laundry; Father, newly returned from work and having been more than of a hindrance than a help to his wife in doing the dishes, settling down now with a beer to watch the International football match on TV; and the boy…a small smile lit on the man’s lips…their son…would very likely be calling his long-time girlfriend, chatting with her for the next hour, while his father...whenever his attention wavered from the match…would shout up the stairs reminding him about the bill.
The watcher’s brow furrowed again. If the boy was home, that is.
His brow furrowed further still as yet again, he went through the speech that he had been rehearsing constantly within his head for the past forty-eight hours. A speech that had effectively distracted him from everything else…much to the grumbling displeasure of his new girlfriend.
Midway through his silent recitation, he balked. It really was not the least bit fair, his mind exclaimed furiously. The boy was happy and safe here! And now, he…his ‘uncle’ no less…was to rip that all away from him. Force him headfirst into a life he may have been born into but knew absolutely nothing of, due to being snatched away from it as an infant. A life he didn’t need…but now must live. A life that would turn the boy’s existence on its head, tear away everything he had always thought he had known for a certainty…plunging him into confusion, insecurity, pain…and danger.
All due to the death of one man.
The man’s eyes filled with sorrow as he remembered the funeral of the week before, when the Wizarding World had laid to rest one of its legends “ Albus Dumbledore. A figurative giant of a man, who had helped lead his people to victory and kept them on the path of light on more than one occasion…dead. Felled by one of those he had tried to help.
Or at least, that is what everyone was saying…what young Harry was insisting upon.
Even given his faith in the son of his long dead and much loved friends, he was having trouble accepting what Harry was telling him at face value. Nothing about the events that had led him to stand upon this spot on this murky night had ever proven straightforward or obvious. There was always…always…something more going on. And he was not inclined to believe otherwise now.
Everything…all his instincts, preternatural or otherwise, were telling him that something had gone on in that tower which the young Potter had not been able to comprehend…something no one else was privy to.
He watched the figure at the window move casually back across it once more. Knowing what he knew…he found it very hard to believe that Severus Snape, for all his flaws and faults, could or would simply betray the old wizard…not after all this time…not with what was at stake.
There simply had to be another explanation.
There had to be…not least for the boy he had come to see.
Sighing, he leaned back against the tree that was helping to shelter his presence. It was all a right cock-up, really. A situation that had been doomed from the start.
He had promised Dumbledore to keep the boy safe and hidden. Felt, considering the role he played in bringing about her tragic loss, that he owed it to the boy’s true mother.
He still remembered her hand clutching his, her eyes focused on some far away place as she begged the man she loved to forgive her. Remembered the sight of her blood pouring from her…her whispering her love to her husband…her last breath. He remembered his own feelings of utter frustration and despair…of senseless loss.
Life had seemed to slow then, seconds creeping past him like treacle, only to shoot forward like a Nimbus Special a few seconds later as he was handed a baby…her baby…the tiny being staring up into his eyes. He’d known then that his life would never be the same “ that he and this child were bound in some way.
His suspicions had been confirmed when his former headmaster returned, leaving James and Sirius in the other room, and spoken to him. Suggested that the boy be taken somewhere safe…somewhere he’d be loved. And he’d done just that, despite certain qualms about what the child’s mother would have wanted for her son…for her husband. He’d done everything asked of him, because circumstances dictated that it must be that way for the good of the child…and from that day, he’d been the only one to know exactly where that child was.
And ultimately, he had revelled in the heavy responsibility. Every year, sometimes twice a year, he would come and stay for a while. Thrilling in watching the boy grow, learning of his accomplishments, helping to guide him to understand his failures…becoming a cherished and favoured uncle. By now, the boy could not have been closer to his heart if he had been his very own.
And now…
He sighed again before tensing at the change of scent in the air.
“You shouldn’t be here, Tonks,” he scolded the newcomer softly. “Why did you follow me?”
“Why? I was worried, that’s why,” came the equally hushed, feminine reply, a hand touching his arm. “You’ve been keeping right quiet of late…I know that part of it is down to…to Dumbledore…but…it’s been more than that. It’s like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. Now, I know you’re not the most happy go lucky bloke…but…”
His hand reached up and patted hers. “I’m fine…there's just been a lot to think about.”
“Remus…” she hedged, “what’s going on? Why are you here? And why did you Apparate to five blinking places first? I mean I was hard pushed to follow you…there’s secret and then there’s overkill, luv.”
His body tensed under her touch. “It’s nothing that you need be concerned with, Tonks…you shouldn’t be here.”
Her hand only seemed to grip his arm tighter as she moved to face him. “Remus…I love you. We’re in a relationship…and while the whole thing might be spanking new to you, you should know that, generally speaking, in these kinds of set ups, what concerns you flipping well concerns me, d’you know what I mean? Now why won’t you let me help you?”
“Because, you can’t…this was started long ago…and…I made a promise. Now the headmaster is gone, it is up to me to see this through. I know you want to help…but…” He trailed off with a sigh and shook his head, his eyes turning back to the house. “I have to turn a young man’s life upside down tonight…” he admitted finally. “He’s been under a binding spell his whole life…knows nothing of magic or our world…and now he’s about to get tossed into it whether he likes it or not.”
“A binding spell?” the young woman repeated. “But…why? And who?” Her breath caught a little in the night air at the thought of what might be behind the deployment of such a powerful spell of last resort. “Dumbledore…he must have…which is why you are…oh well, that’s just brilliant, that is! So the spell wore off on his death, then…but I haven’t heard of anyone misusing magic here…”
“The rate you all have been kept busy with the attacks…I’d be very surprised if you had,” Lupin broke in. “Anything he’s done has probably slipped under the radar, as the Muggles say. It’s likely not been much if anything anyway…he’s a pretty controlled, sensible kid.”
“You still haven’t explained why, Remus,” Tonks reminded him, her tone coaxing.
“No…I haven’t,” came the firm reply.
His girlfriend nodded. “And you’re not going to…” she filled in. “All right, you don’t have to hit me with a sledge hammer…more than once…I get the not so subtle hint.”
He lowered his eyes to her and gave her a small, kind smile. “I’m sorry…I’ll tell you soon…or rather he will, if he wishes to. I know you want to help, to be there for me, and I appreciate it but…I have to do this…alone.”
She regarded him carefully for a moment before a resigned sigh escaped her lips. “All right…but come home soon, eh luv? I’ll be waiting up,” she relented, kissing his cheek.
He found himself chuckling despite himself and nodded. “Yes, Mum,” he teased, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “I promise…and best have two cups waiting.” His eyes flicked over to the house.
“Righto…” she murmured, slipping back into the shadows.
“Oh, Tonks…don’t forget to…” he started.
“I know,” came the disembodied but amused answer. “Hide my trail…yeah, luv, I know.” And with a soft pop, he knew she’d gone.
The easy natural smile she engendered was still on his lips as he returned his attention to the house...only for it to slip off his face once more as the weight she had so aptly described resettled on his shoulders.
He hadn’t asked for this. He’d only been doing his job when he’d knocked on a very different woman’s door, looking for an old classmate of his…an old enemy…of a sort. There had been an incident at the Boar’s Head, and though he hadn’t been told what, he’d been asked personally by the Order, seeing he had shown some rather useful and inherent tracking talents, to go and find out where the young man involved was now so that he could be questioned on it further. Lupin had tried all the usual haunts, even done a quick look through Knockturn Alley and had come up empty handed. It was though Severus Snape had simply vanished.
The urgency had increased massively when other incidents seemed to involve the former Slytherin student…far more serious incidents. He had grown anxious, lives were now on the line…and yet Snape was remarkably adept at keeping any trail to himself firmly buried. And Lupin had been almost at a loss at where to turn next.
The only avenue left to him had been one that was, not to put too fine a point on it, ridiculous. The person involved was so above suspicion that to even consider an involvement with nefarious activity was beyond laughable. And yet with little option, his mind had tracked back to a time, long before he had been commissioned to this job, maybe just over a year and a half after he had left Hogwarts, walking out of the Leaky Cauldron to catch sight of two shadowed people, a man and woman, talking hurriedly in a side alley.
Though he could not hear what was being said, from her body language it was clear that the woman had been worried. The young man had his hands on her arms, rubbing them reassuringly, and everything about him telling her gently that all would be well.
From a better vantage point as he walked down the street, he’d recognized the woman instantly…but it had taken a second longer to realize who the young man with her was, and he’d barely refrained from freezing on the spot and gawping.
After seven years at school with the dark haired, mordant man, despite everything that Lily Evans had ever said to him or his pals about him, Remus had never ever thought he would see the day Snivillus Snape would be at all kind in tone or that those black eyes could show the slightest hint of warmth…and both were suddenly there in abundance.
He had hurried on quickly, fairly sure he hadn’t been seen but more than a little curious about what they could possibly have been talking about. He had learned later that Snape had been responsible for saving her life at one point. Knowing her reputation, it wasn’t unusual to assume she had kept in touch with him out of gratitude. Life had gone on from there, other things becoming far, far more of a concern. In the course of things, he’d eventually met her once or twice via his ongoing dealings with Dumbledore, discussing the political situation and even a few personal issues. He’d found her astute and charming. And if she was somewhat overly optimistic about the inherent rationalism of people, her kindness, wit, and intelligence easily showcased her mediatory and empathic abilities that made her such a good facilitator. Snape, needless to say, had played no part in these meetings in thought or actuality.
That moment had been all he had left to go on. So, after finding out where the well-known diplomat lived, he had gone to her home next, praying that the clue of one stray conversation would lead him to his quarry.
The elevator moved slowly upward, its brass fittings shining in polished oak as the floor indicator continued its climb, until with a pleasant ping, the doors opened and Remus Lupin stepped out onto a luxurious, carpeted hallway, his shabby persona completely at odd with his surroundings. Marvelling at the mixture of modern and Victorian elegance skilfully intertwined in the decor, he moved to the hand carved doubled doors and rang the bell of the penthouse flat.
A moment later, the door opened to reveal a uncharacteristically well dressed, smiling house-elf, her large brown eyes taking in his worn robes, though her pleasant expression didn't change at all. "Greetings!" she chirruped with a little curtsey. "How may Elly serve?"
"Hello." Remus smiled down at the little being. "I realise this is somewhat unorthodox and that she is probably exceptionally busy, but I was wondering if perhaps Miss Abernathy was at home? And if so, might I be able to have a word or two?"
"The Mistress is indeed home, my good sir!" the young elf replied cheerfully, holding the door open so that he could enter. "And who may Elly say is calling?"
As he ran his hand through his hair, partially to tidy it and partially from unease at what he was doing, Remus's eyes darted quickly around the room area visible to him taking in its sumptuous and bright surroundings...hardly the place you'd expect to find...
"Lupin," he answered her, stepping in. "My name is Remus Lupin."
"Very good, Mr. Lupin, sir," she said, leading him into the large, comfortable sitting room and indicated a rather plush couch for him to sit and wait. "Elly will go and fetch the Mistress." And with another little curtsey, she hurried from the room in a whisper of cottons and lace.
Looking around him and then down at the rich satin brocade of the couch, he brushed off his dusty clothes and sat down somewhat gingerly. The room was full of antiquities and art...it spoke of someone from a refined, elegant, and wealthy background. He imagined most of what he was looking at was at least several centuries old...with the smattering of newer art, speaking of a more progressive personal view.
The view of London from the window nearby was spectacular, and the light struck the room at a perfect angle to show off the contents, the Venetian and Waterford glassware, catching it with an almost prismatic effect and causing the room to sparkle with reflected light. Glancing down, he absently brushed at his robes again, wondering if he was, all puns aside, truly barking up the wrong tree.
If ever there was a less likely place for the unobtrusive, dark, dirt poor Snape to be seen...this was it. And a less likely person for him to be on sociable terms with, Paidea Abernathy was it...and yet there was a connection, he knew that much.
The soft sound of hurrying footsteps reverberated down an adjoining corridor until a woman clad in a soft velvet high-waisted robe emerged, her chestnut hair gathered back into a long braid down her back, her face alight with relief and joy…until a heartbeat later, not seeing the face she clearly expected in her sitting room, she completely restructured her expression into one of friendly but guarded greeting.
"Mr. Lupin? I...wasn't expecting you," she admitted, holding out her hand. "But how good of you to call."
Rising up quickly, Remus did a fair job at hiding his curiosity at both the manner of her entrance...and her appearance itself. Her rapid approach and evident surprise on seeing him there clearly seemed to indicate that she had not waited for little Elly to tell her who her caller was and that she was most certainly waiting for someone else…quite anxiously too. In addition, the attire she was wearing was unusually cut, jutting forward in a layered effect over her stomach, giving it a voluminous look.
Taking her hand, he gave a slightly awkward courtly bow. "Miss Abernathy, my apologies for arriving unannounced like this. I just dropped by as part of some work I am doing for…the Ministry…and was hoping to ask you a few casual questions. But if I am disturbing you...or...if you are expecting someone else, I could go," he hedged, watching her carefully.
Her face seemed to shift even further into that enigmatic, well-honed diplomatic mode as she shook her head and indicated for him to resume his seat while she sat rather awkwardly down on the other end. "No...I am not expecting anyone. I was merely taking a short nap...but had to rise soon anyway.” Her expression turned curious. “I was unaware that you are now working for the Ministry...have you just started?”
"I...have been requisitioned, you might say, to use some particular skills of mine," he lied with a smile as he sat back a little, having no intention of telling her he was there on behalf of the Order, despite her once being approached by Dumbledore to join them. "Freelance work, I suppose you could call it."
Her gaze grew more acute before she nodded her head slowly. "Yes...I can see why they would begin hiring freelance workers. The war is taking many of our Aurors away from their usual duties and into battles." She sighed and shook her head again, her gaze moving to the far window. "It's a never ending spiral really." She stayed that way for a moment before pulling her attention back to him. "So...what can I help you with this afternoon?"
"I'm making enquiries into the whereabouts of a certain individual the Ministry is interested in speaking with. I was hoping with your extensive connections you might be able to help me locate them, or at least point me in the right direction," he replied, rubbing idly at small scar below his ear.
She appeared a little surprised. "I am not sure if I can help...but I will try," she answered, shifting in her place to get a bit more comfortable.
Watching her and waiting for her to settle, Lupin raised his chin a little, sniffing, his brow creasing ever so slightly. "Thank you, I do appreciate your time, believe me," he returned before adding politely, "And if you don't mind my saying so, Miss Abernathy, that's quite a fragrant scent you are wearing." He leaned forward a little. "I should explain perhaps, that the reason I believe you can help me is that I myself witnessed you in conversation with the individual in question."
"Oh?" she enquired, her expression one of interest, before she chuckled. "I wouldn’t be at all surprised. I do speak to a lot of people, Mr. Lupin; hazards of the profession, I’m afraid. And please...call me Paidea. Would you care for a drink?"
"Thank you, no...Paidea..." He inclined his head gratefully. "I shall not be taking up much of your time. You are busy, I know." He sat back again. "What with the almost constant calls upon your time and the public appearances you make so frequently, it is a wonder you have any time to yourself for a personal life at all."
Her eyes narrowed, albeit so slightly he would have had to have been aware of her personal foibles...or been an astute observer of human nature…to notice. "Indeed...though lately due to my health, I have been stepping back a bit. The Healers tell me I should take a holiday." She laughed again softly. "I shall soon, I think. And my calendar is rather clear today, so please do not worry." She folded her hands calmly on her lap. "Now, who is this person you need to find?"
Remus hesitated, knowing he was on thin ice. She had a lot of clout. If he was wrong...and she sought to complain…he could get both himself and the Order in a lot of trouble. But his senses were telling him something…and his instincts were joining in cheerfully. And, desperate times led to…
"A person you know well, I believe...quite well, in fact," he said calmly, folding his own hands in his lap, "an old school mate of mine, Severus Snape."
There was little sign of reaction, merely a slow inhalation at the mention of the young man's name, though her face remained placid. "Severus Snape? Yes...I know him. We're friends...have been so for many years. Though I haven't seen him recently." A hint of concern flashed in her eyes. "Why...is he in trouble?"
He watched her carefully, not least because his arse was quite firmly on the line. "That remains to be seen, Paidea...but my inclination would be, yes...yes he is. Primarily as he is strongly suspected as being involved in a recent spate of Death Eater attacks. One quite brutal one in particular...quite strongly involved, in fact." On seeing her eyes widen somewhat, he paused again, this time for dramatic effect, deciding the moment had come to take a leap, and his tone when speaking next was almost conspiratorial. "You really should be more careful in your choice of...friends...Paidea, and your choice of rendezvous for your assignations."
She looked deeply shocked at that last comment, her hands fluttering in her lap before she quickly, if clumsily, rose to her feet. "I...I don't know what you mean. What assignations? We've been friends for three years, yes, but I have a good many such friends. But I do know this, Mr. Lupin…he is good person." She moved over to the window and gazed out across the skyline. "He wouldn't be involved in any such activities...especially with any such attacks," she insisted.
"I rather think he would...sadly." Remus watched her closely, such vehemence over a casual friend’s morality in one normally so composed telling him a great deal. Taking a soft breath, he played his next over-exaggerated card. "Just as I think you and he are somewhat more than friends…that is, if the body language and looks you exchanged the day I saw you together near The Leaky Cauldron are any indication…which I do believe they are."
She spun around to face him, a scornful expression on her face. "The Leaky Cauldron?” she scoffed lightly. “That was quite some time ago, Mr. Lupin! And as for…body language and the like? I don't know what you're talking about. He was merely discussing a problem I was having with me. Taking the time to kindly encourage me."
It was rather a convincing display, and Lupin might even have begun to worry about having made a serious miscalculation except for the slightly unusual edge in her voice and the fact that Severus Snape had never been witnessed kindly encouraging anyone in his life…that he knew of. For Snape to do so indicated strange and unusual circumstances indeed. And so, his face took on an expression of resolute disbelief.
And it bore dividends.
Paidea Abernathy was renowned as being so single minded in her pursuit of peace both at inter and intra Wizarding levels that she had no private life to speak of…certainly not one that involved romance. Because she had begun her career so young and was certainly most attractive, in order to be taken seriously she had made it clear time and time again in interview after interview that she had no time for love. That she would consider it only after she had done what she needed to do.
The statement and her slavish adherence to it had shown her not merely to be some wealthy, flighty heiress playing at diplomacy and politics but a serious, idealistic young woman with a sensible head on her shoulders. And it had garnered her, in time, respect from other wizards and witches…and indeed a broad spectrum of other magical folk…that she required in order to do her work. In addition, her well-practiced, strict emotional control coupled with the lack of distraction gave her focus as a negotiator and mediator and a clarity of thought when speaking before the likes of the Wizengamot or International Confederation of Wizards.
But under Remus’s intensely sceptical gaze, the subject not diplomacy, not politics, but personal involvement…specifically with one man…her complete lack of experience in dealing with emotional issues coupled with the now obviously agitated state she had been in before he arrived began to show through.
That celebrated focus proved singularly lacking as she turned and moved swiftly across the room and then back to the window, her calm façade starting to crack. "He wouldn't attack anyone...he wouldn't. He saved my life…helped protect me," she muttered distractedly before turning her attention back to him with a demanding, "What makes you think he is involved...and what attacks?"
His eyes drifted again to the flow of her dress around her stomach and back to her. "Discussing a problem with you, you say? Well, it may well be that you may have to help him with a far greater one, Paidea." His tone was soft and genuine, as he sensed the very real growing confusion in the young woman's reaction…confusion and something more...something free-lancers like him were rather good at discerning...fear.
"You see..." he stood up slowly, "Severus was seen by a late arriving group of Aurors…one of whom, a fellow school mate of ours, recognised him as he fled under fire with a number of his fellow Death Eaters from the scene of an attack upon a Muggle residence on the outskirts of Cardiff. An attack on the home of a young witch of pureblood lines, her Muggle husband, and....their twins." He gazed at her grimly. "All of whom were killed."
Her hand flew to her mouth, her expression one of utter horror. As if physically struck by the news, or perhaps merely trying to distance herself from it, she stumbled back a few steps until her back met solid brick and plaster. She grasped the wall as though it was a lifeline, shaking her head in anguish. "No...no he wouldn't...he couldn't..." As she tried to pull herself together, one hand came to rest on her belly, revealing the solidity beneath the expertly designed fabric -- a rounded solidity he had certainly suspected was there.
"Your friend must have been mistaken,” she asserted. “Severus would never have done something so horrible..." She moved silently over to the window, mostly to escape the young man's penetrating gaze as tears welled in her eyes. "I truly haven't seen him, Mr. Lupin...not for some time. But I know he couldn't have done what you say."
"I’m sorry..." He stood up slowly, his sympathy genuine now as everything became increasingly apparent. "But his presence was confirmed. And that presence has led to other worries…about information he might be in possession of…dangerous information…that could be passed on to 'You Know Who.' We have to find him.” His voice was still calm and insistent, but internally, he found he was having almost as much trouble processing this as she was in her way. His risk had borne fruit...a long shot...a vague suspicion that had proven more accurate then he could have dreamed.
Her reaction to the news was clear...her shock far more than that of any mere acquaintance or casual friend, as either her insistence or their outward connections would imply. She was close to Snape...much closer than anyone could have suspected. Much closer than Lupin would have ever dreamed possible. Morose, dark, perpetually angry Snape...and this vibrant, attractive, idealistic young woman? Even now it seemed impossible...but the anguish in her face, the tears in her eyes...and the hand on her pregnant belly said otherwise.
He stepped forward, his voice urgent, pressing this unexpected advantage. "Paidea, listen to me...if you care about him as I suspect you do, you must help me find him. For his sake...and for others like that young family in Cardiff. I saw the look in his eyes when he was with you. I’ve never seen that in him before. Perhaps if we find him, stop him, we can talk sense into him...you can help him change his path. He was only seen at the location...there may yet be a way out of this for him if we can halt this now."
She continued to stare out the window, though her reflection showed her turmoil and despair. Her hand continued to move over her belly, her other hand curling and hiding her mouth, but he could see her lips were moving as though she was still trying to convince herself that what he was saying was not true.
Finally after several minutes of this internal stand off, she turned back to him, though her eyes refused to meet his. "I don't know where he is...I don't know how to find him..." Her hand slipped to the large ebony and silver locket around her neck, playing with it idly. "I wish I could help you...but I can't." Her last words were almost a whisper.
He straightened slowly, looking her directly in the eyes. "Can't or won't?" he asked quietly, his gaze drifted down to her abdomen and back to her meaningfully. "Both, I’d imagine…but that shouldn't really surprise me, should it? He is the father of your unborn child, after all."
Her hand dropped from her belly instantly, her face struggling to regain its usual composure under this emotional onslaught both from him and her pregnancy-fuelled, wildly fluctuating emotions. "I don't know what you mean," she lied softly and badly, turning away. "I can't help you, Mr. Lupin."
He stood watching her for a moment, no doubt any longer in his mind about the paternity of the child she had been adeptly hiding to this point. But it wasn’t just a matter of paternity, was it? This was no brief dalliance resulting in a child.
Snape and Paidea’s connection went back years. The dark, glowering wizard had not simply used her and abandoned her. There was no acrimony here. Far from it. There was a history between them, a line running from that first explosive and well documented introduction through Lupin’s own witnessing of them at the Leaky Cauldron to…he glanced at her swollen belly…what he assumed was around about a nearly full term month pregnancy. This was a relationship. She was protecting him, fearful for him. Remus needed no preternatural senses to feel the fear as it wafted off of her, and it all left him in with next to no doubt about the truth -- she loved Snape, and whatever he himself thought of the man...she saw someone else again.
Someone kind and incapable of these acts...he recalled again the look in Snape's eyes the day he had seen them together, his soft reassurances. Someone different from the boy he had known in school...someone whose recent actions may have had more behind them then he had ever suspected. Considering he and his friends had tormented Snape for so much of the time in school, was it any wonder perhaps that they had never seen that side of him? Never thought him capable of it? A real pang of guilt struck him quite forcibly for the first time. Taking a step towards her, he laid an understanding hand on her shoulder, a small sad smile on his face. "No..." he replied, "I don't suppose you can."
She didn't look at or answer him, her eyes riveted to the landscape before them as her body tensed and straightened under his fingers.
Breaking the touch, he turned silently and walked towards the entrance, feeling her pain...and his own confusion...but with his mind already working towards the next step and with a far more pragmatic view of things than his empathy for her dictated. He still had a job to do…lives to help save.
She was calling to her lover...whether she knew it or not…he could instinctively feel it. She was bewildered, disorientated...frightened...for Severus, what this all meant for them...for their child. Her next step was virtually preordained...coded into her...she would go to him...seek him out. Find him. There was no overcoming nature. He knew that all too well.
Opening the door to depart, he knew that when she did, he would be right behind her.
She had died later that night…just before the sun rose. The guilt still continued to nag at him for that and for the part he’d played. For using her that way. And as he’d carried the swaddled child he’d been entrusted with away to hide him from his father, and more pertinently his father’s master, he’d sworn to her memory then and there to care for the boy.
He knew deep down she would have wanted the boy with his father…but that was impossible after what had happened…after what Snape had done, what he had become…who he was with. And so in his true father’s absence, he’d sworn to her that he would protect the baby with his life, that the child would have a good and happy home, and he’d be there to watch him. That memory still crystal vivid, he inhaled the damp night air deeply once more and set his shoulders.
He still had a job to do.
Moving from the tree, he made his way across the narrow street, not stopping till he reached the porch glass door. The warm light shone cheerily through the curtained windows on either side of the portico, and the illuminated doorbell added to the welcoming touch on such a gloomy, muggy night.
The chime sing-songed into the home after he pressed the button, and a moment later, a round-faced woman opened the inner wooden door with an expression of puzzlement that rapidly turned into a pleased smile of welcome.
“Remus!” she breathed. “We weren’t expecting you till Christmas! How good to see you,” she exclaimed as she unlocked and opened the outer door. “Come in. Come in!”
As he brushed his hair back from where it had again flopped onto his face, his grave blue eyes met the happy woman’s, her own sobering instantly.
“Remus? What’s wrong?” Her tone was anxious as he closed the door behind him. “What’s happened?”
Her guest simply glanced around the hallway and towards the stairs, knowing in his heart it was always going to have come down to this…that this day had been inevitable.
“Rose…is Aiden home?”