A.N.:

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"Hello, Laurel."

The Akardos clenched her jaw as she saw the figure of Remus Lupin entering her room. It wasn't the first time she had found herself face to face with him after that embarrassing episode months ago, but she still felt incredibly uncomfortable with his presence.

Remus's amber eyes lit up at the sight of her, but he quickly looked away when he realized that Laurel had turned her back on him.

"Thirty-two doses," —the woman said dryly as she put the delicate vials of Lupinaria into a padded box.

Remus put a hand to his neck and cleared his throat lightly, trying not to be offended by Laurel's coldness.

"It's not enough for everyone," —he murmured. — "The rumor of the cure is spreading, we're falling short."

"The others will have to wait until the next lunation," —she replied, handing the box to Remus without hesitation.

The silence that followed was thick. Remus accepted the box, his fingers brushing against Laurel's for a brief moment, but she pulled her hand back as if the contact burned.

"I... I brought a photograph of Teddy."

Laurel blinked, bewildered, as she tried to comprehend the meaning of what he had just said.

"A photograph?"

Remus nodded awkwardly, searching for something inside his worn coat. He pulled out a photograph and handed it to Laurel, just as gently as he had received the vials a second before.

"I thought you might like to see him," — he explained hopefully.

The image of a newborn with vibrant violet hair and a sleepy face sucked serenely on his finger.

"He looks a lot like you," —Laurel murmured, more to herself than to Remus, as she looked at the picture with a softened expression. — "He's beautiful. Thank you for bringing it."

Remus cleared his throat again, searching for the right words.

"Laurel, I want you to know something," — he began, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and sincerity. —"Your work, your dedication... because of you, I have the chance to be a complete man, someone capable of protecting and loving Teddy and Dora the way they deserve."

Laurel stared at him, her expression impenetrable, but she didn't interrupt him. Remus continued, —"I love Dora, deeply. She's given me more than I ever thought I deserved: a home, a family... Teddy."

He paused, visibly uncomfortable, then continued, in a lower tone:

"I know I made a terrible mistake in telling you... what I said that time." —His face flushed with shame. —"I was selfish in wanting to cling to you in a moment of desperation. I'm sorry."

Laurel shook her head slowly.

"I know that the attraction you felt for me wasn't real... not like you thought. It was because of the lycanthropy. My scent, my blood... You were brave, Remus. Brave to stay with Tonks, to choose to stay with your son. There is nothing more to discuss."

Remus nodded curtly, and reached out to shake Laurel's hand, but before she could reciprocate, a bloodcurdling scream filled every corner of Hogsmeade, and they both paled when they heard Death Eaters shouting hexes outside in the street, lighting up the darkness of the night.

"Everybody spread out. He's here!"

"We know you're here, Potter, and there's no getting away! We'll find you!"

"Bring on the dementors!"

"Could it really be Harry?" —Laurel whispered to Remus.

He didn't answer. His grip on his wand was tight, knuckles white, ready to act. The temperature plummet as the Dementors' presence thickened, making the air feel almost solid.

"Stay here."

Before Laurel could protest, the cold intensified, and the sound of agonized cries filled the air, the Dementors drawing out the worst memories from everyone in the village. Remus took a deep breath, steeling himself against the icy despair. But before he could step out the attic a brilliant silver light burst in the street, glowing with fierce strength and the oppressive feeling receded.

An uneasy silence fell upon Hogsmeade, only to be broken by the shuffling feet of the Death Eaters.

"Over there! That's it! That's Potter's Patronus!"

"They got him"—Remus said under his breath.

He went running down the stairs and Laurel followed him, feeling a burst of cold air rushing through the hallways, as if someone had opened a door. They were about to reach the first floor when they collided with an invisible mass down the bottom of the rickety stairs.

"Lupin!" —cried a familiar voice.

The invisibility cloak fell to the floor and in front of them were Harry, Ron and Hermione. Laurel gasped at their gaunting looks. They were pale, sweaty and extremely exhausted.

"Put the cloak back on!" —Remus hissed, scanning the room to make sure none of the guests were aware of the trio's presence.

"This way," —Laurel said.

She led them through the halls to the private parlor where Aberforth kept the huge oil portrait of his sister Ariana. From the window they could hear the old man's shouts:

"If I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!"— His gruff voice echoed through the inn.

"You set off the Caterwauling Charm?" — came the accusing voice of one of the Death Eaters

"What if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door? Do it, then, if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you haven't pressed your little Dark Marks and summoned him. He's not going to like being called here for me and my old cat, is he, now?"

"You have broken curfew, old man!" —said another Death Eater. —"You are not exempt from punishment, how about I destroy your inn?"

"And where will you lot traffic potions and poisons when my pub's destroyed? What'll happen to your little sidelines then?"

"Are you threatening...?"

"I keep my mouth shut, it's why you come here, isn't it?"

"I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" —shouted the first Death Eater.

"A stag?" —the barman roared, pulling out his wand and conjuring a horned beast. — "Can't you see it's a goat, you idiot?!"

"All right, we made a mistake," —said the second Death Eater. — "Break curfew again and we won't be so lenient!"

As the Death Eaters moved away towards the high street, Hermione gave a moan of relief, slipped out from under her cloak and dropped into a chair; Harry closed the curtains and removed his cloak, revealing Ron as well.

They could hear the barman down below, bolting the door, then climbing the stairs

"Have you gone mad?" — Remus said as he flicked the lights on with his wand. —"Showing up like that in a town full of Death Eaters..."

Harry turned his attention to him, and despite how exhausted he was, he refused to let himself drop into the armchair like his friends did.

"What are you doing here, Lupin?" —he asked curtly, his eyes darting from Remus to Laurel.— "What is she doing here?"

"She's here helping me with the tavern, helping the Order and your cause, boy." —Aberforth's raspy voice startled them both. — "And if you're not happy with her presence, you know where the door is."

Harry looked at him, immediately recognizing those sparkling blue eyes.

"You are Aberforth Dumbledore," —the young man said. — "Thank you. You've saved our lives."

"Then the least I ask is some respect for the girl."

Laurel looked up at Aberforth, grateful for his intervention. Harry narrowed his eyes, clearly taken aback, but didn't reply immediately. Ron and Hermione exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"I don't trust her," —Harry snapped harshly. —"You've forgotten she was Snape's ally, haven't you? What assures us she's not here to spy on us?"

Snape's name fell heavy on the room. Laurel clenched her jaw, but before she could respond, Remus raised his hand.

"Harry, Laurel thought like the rest of us that Snape was trustworthy," Lupin said in a deep voice. —"And like the rest of us, she was betrayed too. Laurel's been helping the Order. She's done more for the resistance than you could ever imagine. If you choose to trust us, then you trust her too."

Harry stared at the Akardos as if he were about to snap at her, Hermione, still sitting, watching him with a worried expression. Ron, on the other hand, broke the tense silence as he realized a more immediate problem.

"I'm hungry," —he said, looking toward Aberforth with some hope. —"Don't you have anything to eat here?"

Laurel, grateful for the distraction, turned to Ron.

"I'll fix you something," —she offered in a softer tone than she had used so far. Then she looked directly at Harry. — "And I'll leave you to talk alone."

Without waiting for a reply, she left the room, her footsteps briefly echoing on the worn wood. When the door closed behind her, Harry let out a sigh and turned to Remus.

"So, explain to me... what's been going on?"

Remus let out a sigh and smiled,

"I'm not a Werewolf anymore, Harry."

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Laurel stared out of the kitchen window. A blood crescent was rising, its dull light barely visible against the dark horizon. Laurel had no magical abilities, and much less a nick for divination, but she was sure that red moon was a bad omen.

She stood there lost in thought, trying to make out the shape of Hogwarts in the distance. Harry had finally returned. The Chosen One was among them again and Laurel was sure that entering the school was in his plans. She bit her lip, frustrated for not being able to stop thinking about Severus' fate.

She stifled a startled cry when she heard the whistle of the kettle, her heart pounding, and she hurried to pour the soup.

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The ominous red crescent did little to illuminate the heavy dusk. A cold breeze made the wisps of smoke quickly fade into the air. Severus took another deep drag on his cigarette, while he looked intently down at the sleeping village in the distance.

Despite the complete darkness, he knew exactly where to direct his gaze, he knew by heart the exact alley where the Hog's Head was and the exact angle from which he could see the dim light shining through the attic window. He knew that was where she had to be.

He inhaled slowly, letting the smoke irritate his throat, mentally preparing himself to descend from the astronomy tower and head to the headmaster's office.

"Just a couple more months," — he said to himself, letting the smoke curl out with his breath.

The school year was drawing to a close, and with it, the precarious balance he maintained between his role as the despotic executor of the Dark Lord's will at Hogwarts and the secret protector of the students.

Severus leaned his elbows on the stone parapet, his thoughts drifting to those summer months when he had met her. He couldn't resist the temptation to wonder what might have been if he had disobeyed Dumbledore's order and fled with Laurel. He thought of the brief and wondrous days they might have shared away from the shadow of war and death.

He imagined mornings in some secluded corner of the world, sunlight streaming in through open windows, the softness of linen sheets on his skin, and the aroma of freshly brewed tea mingling with her sweet, spiced scent. He pictured her unbroken smile and the way her eyes lit up when she laughed.

In a remote crevice of his mind, an unbidden fantasy began to take form: children's laughter filling the air like music, small hands tugging at his robes, and soft voices calling him "Papa." It was a vision so vivid it almost felt real. If only there were a way to end this war, to be forgiven...

"Foolish," — he muttered as he flicked the ash off his cigarette.

His fragile illusion shattered as quickly as it had formed, replaced by the grim weight of his mission. Severus straightened, his expression hardening once more. He knew better than to indulge in such futile dreams. Self-pity was a luxury he could not afford, not now, not ever.

Yet that vision of the faces of the children he would never have the chance to love transformed into the real, frightened faces of the half-blood students under his protection. Just imagining the fate that awaited them if Voldemort's regime triumphed made him feel a pang of guilt and rage. These children, many of them too young to fully understand the magnitude of the horrors around them, depended on him, even if they never knew it.

For many of these children, Hogwarts was their only sanctuary. Their homes, if they had one, would be no safer than a battlefield. Keeping Hogwarts open during the summer holidays was an idea he had never seriously considered before, but now it crystallized in his mind. A refuge, under the guise of control, where they could avoid the brutality of war. It was practical, calculated, and for once, tinged with something dangerously close to hope.

Of course, this wouldn't be a completely altruistic act. He was a Slytherin, after all. Keeping the school open would also allow him to be closer to Laurel, to watch over her from the shadows and ensure her safety. He would have to discuss this with Dumbledore's portrait. Convincing Voldemort wouldn't be difficult; the Dark Lord would probably see value in keeping the students confined, under close surveillance, and away from their potentially rebellious families.

Severus stubbed out his cigarette against the cold stone parapet, ready to leave, but then the calm was suddenly shattered

A piercing, bone-chilling scream pierced the night air and reverberated from Hogsmeade. The headmaster froze, his senses on high alert. The shrill alarm of the Caterwailing charm made his stomach drop.

His eyes darted toward the village, searching for movement, and then he saw it: flickering lights, the unmistakable flashes of hexes illuminating the cobblestone streets. His apprehension grew as the flashes moved, increasing. A battle was taking place, but he couldn't see who was involved.

Suddenly, a brighter light pierced the darkness, its silvery glow unmistakable: a Patronus Charm. The ethereal figure sped across the street, but it was too far away to make out its shape. Severus gripped the parapet, his heart racing. Screams could be heard, echoing faintly back to the Astronomy Tower, though he could not make out the words. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, there was silence.

The village seemed to exhale, returning to its slumber as if nothing had happened, but the wizard's heart still pounded against his ribs. He waited, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the street, every shadow, every flash of light, but nothing moved.

He turned abruptly, walking towards the staircase, his cloak whipping behind him, he was halfway down when he felt it.

The searing pain in his left arm hit him without warning, Severus stumbled, his hand gripping the cold stone wall to steady himself. His vision blurred for a moment as the Dark Mark on his forearm burned brightly.

"The boy will try to get in. You are warned, Severus."

Voldemort's voice, cold, cruel and menacing cut through his thoughts like a dagger.

The boy. Potter.

The end was near.