285 Sorry is not always Enough Ⅱ

Having retreated inside Prince Manor, Rowan makes her way to Severus' bedroom. Feeling numb and uncertain she lay down next to Severus on the bed. Severus' back is to the wall, while she stares at the enchanted ceiling showing gleaming constellations.

"Are you sure, you don't want to see her? She hasn't left yet," Rowan quietly asked out loud.

"Did you know?" Severus asked, trying to hide his anger and hurt.

"Know what?"

"That she had a son with her new husband."

"Ah yes, Filch, let it slip during detention one evening. Amazing, what you can learn in the strangest of places."

Severus whirls around with tears in his eyes. "Then why didn't you say anything?!"

"Would that have changed anything at all?" Rowan tiredly shrugged. "That boy is a Filch and you are a Prince, so our chances of meeting him are slim. Besides the point, we are roughly thirteen years older than him. There is a sufficient age group between us that he is no competition."

Severus opens his mouth, before closing it in an angry line. Flopping back onto the bed, he stares at Rowan's long braid strewn across the bed. "Why didn't she ever say anything?" Severus whispered as moisture filled his eyes. "We wouldn't have said anything. So, why didn't she, Rowan?"

"I don't know," Rowan truthfully replied as she gently reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes with her thumb. "People can be complicated, Sev. Some things appear to be relatively simple and aren't and there are things that appear to be quite difficult but are in fact simple."

Severus leans into Rowan's gentle touch until all his tears are dried. Opening his eye, he quietly says, "We already said our goodbyes, didn't we?"

"We did."

"Then, in that case, I don't want to see her again. Let that be our last goodbye."

"Are you sure, Severus?"

"Why are you always asking me that?!" Severus screamed in anger.

"Because I know where I stand, but the question is do you?" Rowan solemnly asked.

Severus slowly breathes out and whispers, "It hurts. But yes, I don't want to see her again. I don't think I could bear it again."

"Alrighty then," Rowan said as she leaned over to poke his nose affectionately with her finger. "Now go to sleep."

"In our clothes?" Severus grumbled as he contradicted himself by snuggling deeper in his bed.

"Yes, in our clothes," Rowan said with her lips twitching in mirth. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into the warm bed as she closed her eyes and tries to sleep. But before she can, she hears Severus rustling about as if anxious about something.

"Rowan?"

"Yes, Sev?"

"You'll always stay by my side, won't you?"

Unable to make that promise, Rowan instead answers, "I'll always be on your side, Sev. Always."

"Good," Severus said. "Or else, I'd cast some forbidden necromancy ritual just to bring you back."

"Oh, the sheer and utter terror," Rowan mockingly said. "Look, I'm absolutely quaking in my boots!"

Severus lets out a rather indignant huff and snaps, "Make sure to stay on your side of the bed! I better not wake up and have you snuggling up against me again!"

"It's actually the other way around," Rowan loftily said causing a curse to be muttered by Severus, who firmly made sure to scoot a good way from her.

Faintly smiling, she slowly closed her eyes after their long day. All too soon, they were sound asleep as they dreamt of comforting hands and warm hugs. Though come morning they wouldn't be able to recall either of their dreams except for a faint familiar rose scent that their grandmother had loved to wear.

Downstairs in the study, Georgine finds her brother drowning himself with a bottle of fire whiskey. "What are you doing, Reginald?" Georgine asked as she watched her older brother down another glass.

"Drowning my sorrows, what does it look like I am doing?" Reginald snapped as he moved over to pour himself another glass to only be stopped by a firm hand.

"This will not bring Sirsa back nor do the children any good," Georgine firmly said as she removed the glass from her brother's hand. "Come now, brother, tell me, what is bothering you?"

"Eileen stopped by not too long ago to say her goodbyes, before departing with her husband and his brother," Reginald croaked as he buried his head in his hands.

"She still had the audacity to return!" Georgine irritably roared and hurled the glass in her hand with full force into the fireplace. The glass instantly shattered as the fire roared higher as the flames consumed the drops of alcohol from the shattered glass.

"I would not have allowed her that right," Reginald gruffly said between his hands. "But Rowan asked that we allow her this single boon. And I found myself quickly agreeing with my granddaughter. At least just once even if it is in death, my Sirsa should see Eileen again."

Georgine lips twitched into a snarl as she slumped into the chair to watch the dancing flames. "I was told that she and Roderic Filch had a son, some time ago," Georgine distantly said.

"I thought that if she had at any integrity left, she'd have sent Sirsa, a photo of the child. But Eileen never did and Sirsa was much too proud to ask when she learned of the child's birth-."

Georgine's voice broke off as she closed her eyes. "I still keep expecting to see her every time I enter the parlor room. And yet her knitting and embroidery needles remain exactly where she left them. And I can't bring myself to smoke in the parlor, despite knowing that she is gone."

"I awoke this morning and I reflexively put my arm on her side of the bed-," Reginald's voice broke for a moment there. "-Only to find her side of the bed cold and empty."

The two of them fall silent for some time, each lost in their own thoughts until the clock begins to ring at the new hour. Glancing at the time, Georgine says, "But we have burdens to shoulder and children to take care of brother. This will be the last night that I will allow you to drink."

Rising to her feet, Georgine conjures another glass before her brother, before walking away. Reginald stares at the glass before him with temptation in his eyes, before shoving the glass away and rising to his own feet. What his sister said was all true. He had grandchildren to care for and a vengeance to fulfill. Both of which would require full use of his faculties.

With that in mind, Reginald sat before the fire and thought. And oh, the things that he pondered, could have frozen a man's blood in a second. For such terrible were his thoughts that even the fire seemed to grow dimmer and the shadows grow thicker.