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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 18697 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
Author's Note: In my haste to post, I failed to properly attribute the source of the song 'Take Me With You' in the last chapter. It comes from the soundtrack for "The Winter Guest", Alan Rickman's only foray (so far) into film directing. According to the sources I have checked, he is credited with writing the lyrics.

Epilogue

If it be true that good wine needs no bush,
'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue;
yet to good wine they do use good bushes,
and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues

He ended up being early for the appointment and had spent a good half hour wandering around Diagon Alley. As usual for this time of year, the street was filled with students and their parents, the recently-received list of school supplies clutched in their anxious hands as they wound their way through the stores. One could tell by the shape of the parcels that the bookstore, robe, broom and cauldron shops were doing a brisk business.

He returned the polite greetings of the students as they passed him, and his sharp ears caught the sound of excited whispers among others as returning pupils pointed him out to their parents or younger siblings. He supposed it was to be expected that his presence here would cause just a bit of a stir. After all, he was now not merely the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts as well.

Even as he seated himself at a table in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, he could hear the buzz of conversation rise noticeably and he briefly wondered if perhaps they should have chosen another place for the meeting. She had refused to meet him at Hogwarts or even in the village of Hogsmeade, and had counter-proposed that they meet in the legendary tavern that served as the main passageway between Magical and Muggle London. But before he could spend too much time debating the wisdom of their choice, he found that his attention was drawn to the figure of a woman entering the establishment.

No, he decided, judging from the glances and murmurs that accompanied her arrival, her pretty face and the boyishly short, but decidedly feminine cut of her dark, curly hair would probably have aroused attention no matter where in the wizarding world they had chosen to meet. As he watched her approach Tom and make an inquiry, he noted that she was dressed in fashionable but comfortable Muggle clothing as well. And yet, she definitely did not have that jittery, nervous look that most non-magic people had when they ventured into this side of London.

Tom was leading her to the table now, and he stood as they drew near. Although there was a large candle upon the table, he had no doubt that her eyes were straining in the darkness that was such a contrast to the sunny day outside, and he was sure that his own features were much less distinct to her. Nevertheless, she smiled pleasantly and extended her hand.

"Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Mrs. Belden, it was very kind of you to agree to meet me here."

Tom had pulled out the chair for her and was still standing at her side. But the woman had remained on her feet, and Lupin found himself wondering if she had any intention of staying.

"May I buy you a drink?" he asked, gesturing at her to take a seat.

She hesitated for a moment, a faint smile playing upon her lips. "I don't suppose you still serve butterbeer, do you?" she asked Tom.

"Oh, of course, Ma'am," he said, with a toothless grin. "And a whiskey for you, Professor?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks Tom," he said, watching the woman reluctantly take a seat as the barkeep went off to fill their order.

"This place never changes, does it?" he finally said, gesturing at the dark walls around them and trying to break the awkward silence they had fallen between them.

Her only response was an enigmatic smile and it was not until after Tom had returned and served the drinks that she spoke.

"I don't know why you felt this meeting was necessary," she said, pausing to take a swallow of the butterbeer. She closed her eyes for a moment as she allowed the liquid to float over her palate, and another sad smile flitted across her face for a moment before her expression became guarded and resolute. "I think my response was very clear," she challenged.

"Er, yes," he answered, as he reached out for his own glass. He took a hearty swallow and cleared his throat before continuing:

"As this is only my second year acting as Deputy Headmaster at Hogwarts, I cannot claim a great deal of experience in process of sending out the admission letters and receiving the replies. But I will tell you that, contrary to popular belief, we do get a fair share of rejections."

"Really?" Her tone was coolly polite.

"Yes, indeed. Occasionally from Magical families who have decided on other schools, of course. More often the rejections are from Muggles who either think we are lunatics or are horrified to learn of our existence and are convinced that we're some kind of devil-worshipping fanatics. We've even been threatened by lawsuits charging us with annoying pranks." He chuckled softly as he shrugged his shoulders. But the woman remained silent and impassive.

"But," he continued, as he began to nervously swirl the liquid in his glass, "I have never received a rejection letter back from a Muggle address with the original letter still sealed within its envelope. And delivered by a gray parrot."

She was staring down, unseeing, at the table in front of her.

"So, I was rather surprised when you replied to my second letter and agreed to meet with me," he added, a note of curiosity in his voice.

She sighed and raised her eyes to meet his gaze. "Only because I was rather afraid that until I did so you would continue to send the notices. I decided I might as well settle the matter in person so that there would be no further attempts to contact my son."

He tilted his head to the side. "Is there a specific reason why you do not want your son to attend our school?"

"Well," she began, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms in front of her. "I personally see no reason why I have to explain my refusal to you. I would assume that you have no way of forcing my son to attend your school without my permission?"

"No," he replied, the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice. "But, it is still our policy that each prospective student be allowed to read their acceptance letter so that he or she is aware of the opportunity available to them."

"I'm sorry, Professor, I don't wish to insult you or your school, but it appears I have no choice," she said, leaning forward slightly. "The time I spent at Hogwarts was the worst period of my life. I was constantly ridiculed and belittled, and cried myself to sleep almost every night. I'll grant you that I did not possess the strongest of magical powers, but nevertheless the classwork was simultaneously grueling and monotonous and the teachers were, on the whole, inflexible and doctrinaire in their approach." She took in a deep breath and shook her head again, grimly. "I am never going to allow a child of mine to set foot within its doors. My children have grown up blessedly free of any knowledge of the magical world and that is just how I intend for them to remain."

He found himself taken aback by the venom in her tone. "You attended Hogwarts?" he asked, in an uncertain tone.

"Oh, yes," she spat out, bitterly.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Belden," he said, moving his own glass to the side as he shook his head. "After receiving your reply, I did a very thorough search and I didn't see your name in any of the school records."

She shrugged and waved her hand. "Well, of course I attended under my maiden name," she said.

"Well-" He paused and frowned in confusion. "I'm afraid I could not find a mention of a Rosalind Galatea either."

Surprise overtook anger in her face for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "Well now, that's a mystery for you, isn't it?" she chided.

"At any rate, I am pleased to say that we have made some changes over the years," he said.

She grimaced. "I rather doubt that. After all," she continued, glancing about the tavern, "It appears that witches and wizards are still wearing robes, writing with quills and lighting their buildings with torches and candles. Do you really expect me to believe that they have suddenly adopted a progressively-minded educational regimen?"

"I didn't say we'd completely modernized," he protested, "But-" He paused again and spread out his hands. "I will say that there is a lot more personalized attention given to students. For one thing, the classes are much smaller now. Not that it was a conscious decision, the war decimated our ranks and we're only now beginning to recover. But, I honestly think you will find that there is much less of a tendency to force everyone into the same rigid mold. I think our world has finally learned to give more than lip service to the idea of diversity."

She looked decidedly unconvinced. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I am afraid you are wasting your time. I repeat that none of my children will ever be attending your school, no matter what 'improvements' you think have been made to it." She pushed her chair back and prepared to rise to her feet.

You haven't finished your butterbeer," he protested, gesturing towards her glass.

"Well, you know," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "Like many other things, that which I found delightfully exotic in my youth seems to be rather commonplace now."

He frowned slightly as he studied her. "And sometimes," he countered, "Our childhood memories of unhappy events are magnified to the point where they scarcely resemble reality as well."

She stared at him. "Are you saying I am imagining how horrible it was at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not, but-" He hesitated again and threw up his hands. "I am very sorry, Mrs. Belden," he added quickly, rising to his own feet as she stood up. "It seems you and I have started off on the wrong foot."

"Not at all, Professor," she demurred, her voice stonily polite. "But it does appear that we have reached an impasse in this discussion."

"Yes, but there is another matter I should very much like to discuss with you," he said.

She had already started to walk away from the table, but something in his tone made her turn around and look at him.

"Something very important," he assured her, his voice low but urgent. "Please."

She studied him for a moment, suddenly realizing that despite the gray in his hair and the lines crossing his face, he was not nearly as old as she had first imagined him to be. And that his eyes, though shrewd and observant, were undeniably kind as well. Even as a part of her mind warned her to walk away while she could, she found herself uncontrollably drawn back toward him.

"May I get you something else to drink?" he offered, as she slowly lowered herself into her chair again. "Some wine, perhaps."

"No, thank you," she said, avoiding his eyes as she placed her purse underneath the table.

"Um," he began, reaching for his own drink again and draining the remaining liquid down with a loud gulp. He stopped and stared at the tumbler for a moment as if debating whether or not to order another. Apparently deciding against it, he set the glass down and laughed self-consciously.

"I'm afraid I am rather at a loss of where to begin," he admitted.

"Well, unless you are about to ask for a sizable donation to 'The Hogwarts Alumni Foundation', I daresay it's highly unlikely that I will bite your head off," she noted dryly, leaning back and crossing her arms in front of her again.

"Oh, no, hardly that, I assure you," he chuckled. With a frown, he gathered his thoughts for a moment. "You said something about the fact that 'none of your children' would ever attend Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she replied.

"So, Orlando is not your only child then, I take it?"

"No, we have two younger children as well."

There was another silence between them as he nodded and appeared to reflect upon this information. "I don't suppose," he finally began, slowly, "That you would happen to have a picture of your family with you?"

She blinked in surprise. "As a matter of fact, I do," she said, reaching down for her purse. She brought out her wallet and swiftly flipped through a number of small pictures before finding the one she wanted. "We had a family portrait done just last month, actually."

Professor Lupin nodded and held out his hand eagerly for the photograph. He peered at it closely, reaching out after a few seconds to move the candle slightly closer to his side of the table in order that he could see it more clearly.

In the picture, she was seated upon a bench with two young children on either side of her-a girl with brown hair plaited into braids and a freckled boy with a cheerful but mischievous grin.

Remus found himself unable to keep his own lips from curling upward as he inquired: "Twins?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. That is Audrey and Oliver, and they've just turned six."

"I have the feeling that they are a handful," he noted.

"Oh, yes," she said, unable to keep a slight chuckle from escaping her own lips.

Standing behind the seated trio was a boy and a man. The father was a pleasant-looking man with glasses, his slightly thinning hair the same sandy-colored shade as the twins, a happy and proud smile plastered upon his face. And beside him was a thin youth, already so tall that the top of his head reached to the tip of the man's nose. The color of his short, curly hair and pale complexion matched those of his mother. But instead of her soft brown eyes, his were an arresting black.

"And that is Orlando?" inquired Lupin, softly.

"Yes."

He continued to study the picture for a moment and then reached over to return it to her.

"You have a very handsome family, Mrs. Belden," he said, as she began to replace the photograph within her billfold.

"Thank you."

Lupin glanced around the table for a moment, as if reassuring himself that no one was privy to their conversation before continuing: "I think Severus would have been very proud of him."

The effect of his words was instantaneous. Her fingers stilled in their movement and even in the dim light of the tavern he could see her face grow alarmingly pale. After several seconds, she took in a deep breath and her fingertips tightened around her purse, and for a moment Lupin wondered if she was about to bolt from the table again. But instead, she slowly and deliberately set the bag down on the floor and then sat back with her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"I believe I'll have that drink now. An Ogden's Firewhiskey, please," she said. She gestured towards his glass. "It appears that you need a refill as well."

"I'm sorry," he began.

"Please," she said, closing her eyes and raising a hand to her brow. "I need a moment to think," she pleaded.

He nodded, a slight flush of embarrassment beginning to warm his cheeks as he rose and made his way to the bar. Once he had reached it however, he stood in the shadows and did not immediately signal to Tom that he needed another round of drinks. Instead, he allowed the bartender to continue chatting in a friendly member to a small group of 'regulars' while he took the opportunity to surreptitiously glance back at the table.

Her hands were flexed against the edges of the thick boards, as if she were fighting the impulse to push her chair away and immediately depart from the premises. To his distress, he saw that she was trembling slightly and he cursed himself again for the clumsiness with which he had broached the subject of Orlando's paternity. The guilt that he was feeling only increased as he observed her reaching down into her purse and removing a tissue, her subsequent movements leaving no doubt that she was wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. He knew now that he would make no further attempt to restrain her should she decide to leave the pub and could only hope that she was strong enough to compose herself and continue the conversation. He leaned against the bar and his thumbs rubbed together nervously as he continued to observe her out of the corner of his eye.

His attention was drawn away for a moment as Tom approached him, the old man apologizing effusively for his inattentiveness. In short order, he had poured out the drinks and when Remus turned back toward the table, he found himself murmuring a quiet prayer of thanks to Circe that she was still sitting in her chair. Her hands were clasped tightly upon her lap, and if her posture was unnaturally tense and her complexion somewhat ashen, he was relieved to see that she met his eyes and greeted him calmly upon his return.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, as he set down the glasses and took his seat. "That was unbelievably tactless of me, Mrs. Belden. But, I'm afraid I could think of no easy way to tell you what I knew. Or thought I knew, rather. To be absolutely truthful with you, I only had a vague suspicion about the truth until I saw that picture."

She reached out for the glass and took a large swallow, closing in her eyes again. Setting the glass down, she stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"How could you have guessed?" she demanded. "You couldn't have known," she insisted. For just a moment it looked as if she was about to lose control of her emotions. But instead, she blinked back the tears as she took another sip. "He didn't know," she said, softly.

"Oh," he answered, shaking his head slightly. "I rather thought that he didn't."

She looked at him with sudden interest. "You were a friend of his then?"

Lupin smiled sadly. "I doubt," he said shaking his head, "That Severus ever allowed anyone to be close enough to him to be counted as a friend. Professor Dumbledore was probably the closest one to him, but I think Severus viewed him as a mentor rather than a comrade. But I knew him for many years," he assured her. "And I think we had begun to forge something of an understanding between us."

"Then, how-"

He raised his hand to silence her and then took a large swallow of his own drink before reaching over to pick up something from the unoccupied chair that sat between them. She gave a small gasp of surprise and recognition as he set the jewelry box down upon the table.

"This was found about five years ago," he began. "There was a new potions professor starting and she demanded a complete inventory of all the ingredients. While all of the jars and bottles and such were being removed, cleaned and counted, some kind of switch must have been activated. One of the shelves swung out on a hinge to reveal a small hiding place behind it."

He smiled ruefully. "There was still a curse upon it, however. I'm afraid Professor Granger received a rather nasty shock when she attempted to remove it."

He glanced at her to see if the name held any significance. Apparently not, he decided, for her only response was to nod thoughtfully.

"Severus was hardly the type to leave something unguarded," she observed

"Indeed," he agreed with a chuckle. "It took a trio of us a full week to get through all of the wards and enchantments. Once we did-" he gestured at the case again, "We didn't want to pry, but it looked as though it might be important. It was decided that, since I had been a classmate of his, that I should be the one to open it."

"I see."

"But, I only went as far as to read your note," he assured her. "Seeing that it had been written to Severus by a 'Rosalind Alice Galatea', I began to search for her. But I found no one by that name in the wizarding world."

"No," she agreed, taking another sip of her drink.

"And I am afraid that I was soon distracted with other matters. To be honest with you, I had forgotten about it entirely until this summer when I began to write out the letters for the new students. Something about 'Orlando Galatea Belden' nagged at me, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. Then when I received your reply, I mentioned to Professor McGonagall that someone had used a gray parrot instead of an owl to deliver a letter. She said that the only time she could ever remember that bird being used as a messenger was when a letter addressed to Severus had arrived at Hogwarts after-" He stopped abruptly.

"After he had died," she finished for him, sadly.

"Yes." He cleared his throat again. "Professor McGonagall said that she had sent the letter back, unopened, along with a note explaining that he had been killed."

She nodded and he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes once more.

"I am so sorry," he said, feeling helpless. "It certainly must have seemed horribly impersonal to you, but we had no way of knowing-"

"No," she agreed, shaking her head. "You had no way of knowing who I was." She took in a deep breath and drank a small swallow of the whiskey before continuing. "I suppose there would never have been an easy way to hear that news."

"At any rate," he continued, "After talking with Minerva, I reread your letter and finally put the 'Rosalind' and the 'Galatea' together. I retrieved the box so that I could look at the note again, and when the handwriting matched, everything seemed to come together, which is the real reason I wanted to meet with you today," he admitted. "So that I could return this to you," he said, pushing the box slightly closer to her.

She nodded again and reached out to slowly move her fingertips along the surface of the jewelry box.

"He must have loved you very much to keep this," he said, quietly.

She raised her eyes to look at him.

"He was not a sentimental man," he observed.

She smiled faintly and drew the box nearer to her. "Indeed not."

"In fact," he admitted, "I always found him to be a maze of contradictions."

That drew a chuckle from her.

He laughed in return and then bent forward, leaning toward her. "But one of the most powerful wizards I have ever met. If Orlando has one-fourth of his powers, he'll do better than most."

That prompted her to raise her eyebrows in surprise. "Professor Lupin," she began.

"Please, call me Remus."

"Remus, then," she said. "You have placed me in a very difficult situation."

"Ah, I see." The blush that had finally retreated from his face returned in full force. "Does your husband not know-"

She waved her hand impatiently. "Oh, no, of course he does. He married me four days before Orlando was born, pestering me that it was my duty to "give the child a name" and bound and determined that he would not take 'no' for an answer."

"Oh," he said, feeling only slightly less embarrassed than he had been.

"Not that ours is a marriage of convenience," she assured him, urgently. "He is the kindest, gentlest man I have ever known, and I love him dearly."

He studied her face for a moment. "I don't doubt it," he replied.

"But more than simply loving each other, we trust and depend upon each other," she added. "We have gone through plenty of rough times, but we've always managed to keep going. A few years ago, we even opened up our own accounting firm."

He noted the pride and affection in her voice.

"And he loves all the children equally."

"I thought from the picture that he looked like a very contented and proud man," he observed.

"Yes." She paused again and took another sip of the whiskey. "The only thing I ever told him was that Orlando's father died shortly after breaking up with me. I've never given him any specifics and he's never asked for them. So, the big problem is that he doesn't have the slightest idea about all this." She raised her hand and gestured at the room and its occupants.

He whistled softly. "So, he has no idea that you are a witch?"

"No," she assured him.

He drew in a deep breath. "And Orlando?" he asked, quietly.

She sighed. "No, he doesn't know about his heritage either. We've told him, of course, that Curtis isn't "technically" his father, and that his real father died. I confess that I have been dreading the day when he would demand to know more. But, so far, he hasn't."

"I see."

"I kept thinking that, since I was such a squib, that he'd take after me. But, I suppose I've been deceiving myself," she admitted, shaking her head. "As he grown older, he's managed to do quite a bit of magic. Though not consciously, of course."

"Ah," he said, nodding sagely and sitting back in his chair. "Which is, of course, one of the reasons why I think it is imperative that he receive training in the magical arts. You must agree that it would be unwise for his powers to continue to grow without his receiving proper instruction in how to control them?"

She frowned for a moment as her fingers nervously drummed against the table. "So there is a new potions professor at Hogwarts?" she asked, slowly.

"Yes."

"I must say it's a relief to hear that," she observed, dryly. In response to his puzzled look, she smiled and shot a bemused glance upward to the ceiling. "Well, I suppose a part of me was always worried about that. After all, Binns refused to stop teaching just because he had died. I was rather afraid Severus wouldn't let a little inconvenience like death keep him from terrorizing students."

They chuckled together for a moment before Lupin reached out his hand, his face suddenly solemn and concerned. As his hand covered hers, she started for a moment and he was chagrined to feel how cold her flesh felt underneath his. It was another sign that, contrary to outward appearances, she had not yet quite recovered from the blow that he had so reluctantly delivered. But his discomfort immediately vanished as she threw him a look of quiet gratitude.

"I assure you that he doesn't haunt Hogwarts," he said, squeezing her hand slightly as he sought to reassure her.

She nodded and turned her hand slightly so that her fingers were clasped around his and returned his gesture of comfort. "Good," she said, slowly moving her hand away as she took in a deep breath. "From my experience, I had seen that the ghosts that remained behind to haunt Hogwarts had been miserable during their lifetime. And Severus was a distinctly unhappy man, was he not?" she inquired, sadly.

He considered the question for a moment before replying. "I'm beginning to think that he may have found some happiness with you."

She shrugged, pleased with the compliment but not entirely convinced.

"I also think he derived some satisfaction of out dying while fighting on the side of a good cause."

Her lips twisted into a sad smile. "Well, now, there's a whole other problem, isn't there?

"What do you mean?" he asked, a bit puzzled by her response.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Are you going to tell me there still aren't some members of the Death Eaters who managed to escape detection? And that they would just love to get their hands on the son of Severus Snape, the traitor of Voldemort?

He frowned and studied the table for a moment. "Ah, yes."

"And, on the other hand, there are quite a few people on the "winning side" who aren't too happy about the things he'd done as a spy?"

"Hmm," he allowed, still not looking at her.

"In fact, isn't it true that quite a few people are of the opinion that he was only biding his time, waiting to see whether it was Dumbledore or Voldemort who would emerge victorious? That he was playing one side against the other when he was caught?"

He raised his eyes and reluctantly met her gaze. "You seem to have read at least a few articles from 'The Daily Prophet'," he noted.

"I said that my children were brought up with no awareness of the magical world," she answered. "I didn't say I hadn't checked in from time to time."

He nodded again and considered his next words carefully. "Mrs. Belden-"

"Rosalind."

He smiled and continued: "Rosalind, I swear that have not said a word about you or Orlando to anyone, and I won't. I am not asking you to send him to Hogwarts because he is the son of Severus Snape. I'm asking you to do so because of the young man, the young wizard, that he is. I think he has to the right to be given the chance to study the magical arts and decide for himself if he wishes to be part of that world."

She picked up her glass and studied the liquid for a moment before sighing and putting it down again.

"If he doesn't want to come, I shall not pursue the matter. Or, if he comes and hates it and wants to leave, I will not stand in his way. But, don't you think we should at least give him the choice?"

She rubbed a finger tiredly against her temple for a moment. "You are a very persistent man, Professor Lupin," she observed, wryly.

"Remus," he corrected, with a smile.

"Remus. Yes, he does deserve to make his own choice." She stood up. "But, I do need to think about this," she said.

"Of course," he said, rising to his feet as well. "But, just in case-" He reached inside of his robes and pulled out an envelope.

She stared at the Hogwarts letter, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You are a very persistent man," she repeated.

"After all, you did return the original," he explained. As she reluctantly took it from him, he added, "Of course, there's a list of supplies as well."

"Of course," she said, with a laugh. After a moment, she extended her hand. "You are a very nice man as well."

"Thank you," he said, as they shook hands.

"Do you teach?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"Yes, Defense Against the Dark Arts."

She grimaced slightly. "Another class that I fared poorly in."

He made no reply but watched silently as she placed the letter in her purse and bent down to pick up the jewelry box.

"By the way," he said, "One measure of how we have changed is that parents of new students are invited to the opening feast and sorting ceremony."

Her clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Orlando may be ready to face Hogwarts, but I'm not sure I am." She turned to leave.

"Rosalind?"

She pivoted back toward him. "Yes?"

He appeared to be debating with himself, and it took several moments before he finally seemed to come to a decision.

"He's buried in the Hogsmeade cemetery," he said quietly, his voice so low that she could barely hear him.

She stared up at him, her arms tightening reflexively around the box. Her teeth bit down upon her lip for just a moment, and then she nodded and stepped back.

"Thank you," she answered softly, her wide eyes glistening and round. "I didn't know that," she admitted.

Before he could say anything else, she had turned and made her way through the crowd.
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Love's Labours; Paradise Lost