Chapter 49 - "There's no beginning, there'll be no end."
Severus had been particularly quiet for most of the journey back to Cokeworth. Circe could tell he was quietly chewing over something and she had a sneaking suspicion of what it was. But the train from London Marylebone had been fairly full, and when a nice looking man in his table seat had seen Circe's arm in its sling, he'd very graciously gotten up and given her the window seat. Circe nodded to him gratefully but the rocking of the train as it rattled down the track had sent bursts of pain racking through her arm almost constantly. Somewhere near Bicester, Severus had slipped into her good hand a vial of something to dull the pain, before returning back to his standing position in the aisle of the carriage. She drunk it gratefully and promptly fell asleep as a heavy drowsiness settled over her.
Severus shook her awake once they reached Cokeworth station and she let him help her to her feet as the effects of the potion wore off. He hailed a taxi from the front of the station and opened the back door for her as he took his seat on the other side of the car. The taxi driver was having a rather loud singalong session to something on the radio and when Severus gave him his address she wondered for a moment if he had heard it. Eventually the car pulled out of the taxi rank and Circe sighed, looking to Severus staring out the window.
"Are you jealous of Sirius?" she asked, seizing on the relative privacy they had in the back seat.
Severus looked at her with a firm-set jaw. He sighed. "I don't want to be. I know I shouldn't be…"
"You don't need to be." Circe said gently, reaching for his hand. "Remus is in a bad mood with me. I don't need you giving me the cold shoulder too."
"I thought you said he was enamoured with Miss Tonks." Severus frowned.
"He is. But I suppose it's still hard for him to… Ahh, it doesn't matter."
"So it wasn't just me who saw what I saw at the kitchen table…" Severus said with a raised eyebrow.
"Do you not trust me enough to-"
"I do… I do." Severus interrupted swiftly. "It's just… difficult to watch. I still sometimes can't quite believe that you're mine, and I know there will always be men who also see how beautiful you are... " he breathed, squeezing her hand tight.
"Ha! Even when I look like death warmed up and I've got one gammy arm?" she asked, raising her sling.
"Circe, your arm will get better…" Severus said gently.
"I can barely move my fingers, Sev."
From the front of the taxi, the driver suddenly turned up the radio:
"And the number one on the UK charts for the seventh week in a row, the song from the hit film 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', it's... Wet Wet Wet's 'Love is All Around'! Good luck getting this ear-worm out your head, folks…"
"I feel it in my fingers.
I feel it in my toes…"
The driver hollered along to the tune at an alarming volume, and Severus groaned. Circe grimaced and leaned forwards to rap on the glass separating them from the driver.
"Excuse me mate, can you turn that down? Bit of a sensitive subject at the moment, fingers and toes…" she said with a deadpan drawl, pointing at her sling.
"Oh, sorry love." He mumbled and the volume reduced.
Circe sat back in her seat, looking at Severus with another glance at her bandages.
"That will all come back as you heal." Severus said, touching a light finger to hers in the sling.
"Completely?" she asked, confronting him head on by gazing into his dark eyes. "I won't be able to play properly again, will I." she uttered, more of a statement than a question.
Severus sighed and placed his arm around her. What he had to say would be brutal, but she deserved to hear it. "No, your dexterity probably will never be what it was before the splinch."
Somehow, Circe couldn't quite muster the energy to cry. The confirmation of what Severus had said pained her beyond tears.
"You remember when you said that I couldn't decide if I wanted to be a musician or an academic, Sev?" She muttered.
"I was being facetious then, Circe."
"Well I've kind of had the decision taken away from me now, haven't I." Circe uttered sadly. "It's a good thing I introduced Myron to Ali last year, otherwise Weird Sisters would have been fucked. And that guitar you bought me for my birthday. I hope you've still got the receipt for it..."
"Someone like you, Circe, doesn't just stop having music in their veins because of an accident. Beethoven went deaf and he was still a working composer. Reinhardt lost several of his fingers in a fire and he carried on playing. Or… oh what's the name of that drummer in that band…?"
"It's just… I had this vision, this fantasy that once all of this was over...The war, the spying, the fighting, one day I'd be able to see Myron again, stand on a stage, sing, play, do what made me happy. And that idea kept me going."
"And I have no doubt that you will." Severus said firmly, looking deep into her eyes.
The taxi pulled up to Spinner's End and Severus hopped out of the car to open Circe's door. He paid the driver and the car went scooting off into the streets of terraced houses, still singing along to the radio. As Circe lowered herself on to the old brown sofa, she was quite taken aback with just how short a space of time it had been since she'd last been at Spinner's End, Severus sat opposite her in the old armchair, having a little break from her Occlumency lessons.
Thank God I never had use for them… she thought with a sigh.
"Now, Professor Smith…" Severus began as he pushed onwards into the kitchen. "You've put me through a fair few riddles in your time. Your turn: Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle?
What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream?
What best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal
What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam.
What'll make the lame walk, what will make the dumb talk,
The elixir of life and philospher's stone
And what helped Mr. Brunnell to build the Thames Tunnel?
Wasn't it poteen from ould Inisowen."
"That's "The Humours of Whiskey"." Circe responded with a smile. "I've heard Hagrid singing that before in the grounds."
"Congratulations. I, on the other hand, think a better answer to that riddle pertains more to what I have in my cupboards."
"Which is?"
"Tea?" Severus asked, poking his head around the kitchen door, holding his kettle.
"Ooh! Yes please." Circe moaned, nodding enthusiastically. "The elixir of life indeed."
The two of them sat together, cuppas in hand, just enjoying each other's company. Circe was a little struck with the mundaneness of it, given the rather fantastical time of things she'd had recently. Yet she revelled in the ordinariness of it. The chance to just sit and enjoy a cup of tea with Severus was something, once upon a time, that she had never in her wildest dreams imagined could happen. Severus looked to her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Are you ready for me to spoil everything?" He asked in his low voice.
Circe groaned. "That was nice while it lasted. What is it?"
Severus put down his tea and reached under the sofa. He pulled out a small black box and offered it to Circe with a somber look.
"This arrived, addressed to you, the day after the Azkaban breakout."
Circe looked down at the box. It was made of the darkest, black ebony. The box was carved with an interlocking geometric pattern of squares and rectangles that made it look almost like a Rubik's cube, but Circe could sense something dark and powerful about it… It hummed with energy. And she could feel the weight of something inside it.
"From Voldemort?" She asked.
Severus nodded.
"Have you opened it?"
"No. Can you not sense the curse he placed on it?" Severus asked. "I'd wager that's to stop anybody bar you from opening the box."
Circe glanced back down at it, holding it up to her face and peering at the patterns carved on its surface. Embedded in the front of the box was a single circle, set in a sea of squares. She pinched her fingers around the dial at the circle's center and turned… She almost dropped the box when she heard a small click from the workings inside, followed by a menacing hiss as the lid popped open. She looked to Severus for reassurance and he nodded his head at her. Slowly, Circe lifted the lid and there sitting on top of a nest of plush plum silk was a necklace. If Circe had seen it at a market or in a jewelers, she would have looked straight past it. It was a small, oval piece, only about an inch tall, but set with what looked like a family crest. Circe picked it up from its bed of silk, bringing it closer to her face. On the shield of the crest, there appeared to be a set of dark wings, at the center of which there was a weapon…
"What is that? At the center of the wings, Sev?" She asked turning it to him.
"A scythe." He answered grimly.
"Oh good lord…" she muttered.
Circe looked back to the box and saw that there was a small scroll, bound with a thick blob of black wax. She set the necklace back in the box and nervously tore open the note, feeling a shiver pass through her as the wax seal broke.
"Congratulations, my newest and truest disciple.
You have proved your loyalties to me with an achievement that puts your other Death Eaters to shame.
You may now be granted the privilege of calling yourself a lieutenant of the Dark Lord. And as a reward for your efforts, I attach to you the epithet of "Praetor of the Dementors".
The necklace enclosed in this box will allow you to remain protected from their effects and, since the Dementors have now changed allegiances to myself, identify you as their commander. They shall bow to the will of the one who outwitted them.
Magic is might."
The letter was not signed, but the faint tingle in the place where her Dark Mark once was confirmed who the sender was even without a signature. Circe held up the oval necklace again, wondering whose crest it was on the front of the piece and pondering how exactly the jewelery gave her command of the Dementors…
"Praetor." Severus echoed, casting an eye over the note.
"The Dementors are now allied with the Dark Lord?" Circe asked.
"Dementors are coldly practical creatures. In the days after the prison fell, they bowed to the force they believed to be superior to the Ministry…"
"So now Voldemort has the support of the Dementors too, thanks to me…" Circe stated miserably.
"And you command them.".
""Praetor" was always a dual title in Ancient Rome." Circe explained. "A role of joint responsibility. Voldemort is implying that they will also be answerable to him too."
"Still, that's significant."
Circe fumbled with the clasp on the chain, one handed. When she was almost red with frustration, Severus undid the hook for her and placed it around her neck. Circe thought she felt the same distant humming vibrating against her skin where the oval touched her chest. She touched a finger to the crest, running her numb over its bumps and ridges as she looked down at it. It wasn't the ugliest piece of jewelry, but it was a touch macabre.
"I would say it suits you, but…" Severus said with a cheeky grin.
Circe elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled.
"So what now? Wait until the next time we're summoned?"
"By Voldemort or by The Order?"
"Either…" Circe said with a sigh.
"Yes. That's the way of it. A lot of action and then a lot of waiting."
"So what do we do during the "waiting"?"
Severus turned her face to his and leaned in close to her. His lips brushed hers and she shivered in delight, her mind spinning into turmoil as his hot breath caressed her face. She clasped her good hand around his shirt, drawing him in close for another, deeper, hungrier kiss.
Severus pulled away from her sharply, standing to his feet and drawing out his wand.
"I… uh… had a bit of time to think about this. When you were away in Normandy and I couldn't sleep at night. Laying on my bed trying to picture your face in the dark. I was thinking on how it should have been with you and I, what I wanted our time together to be like, whilst we still may have it... And then after, when I assumed it had all gone wrong…"
"Think about what, Sev?"
Severus waved his wand and from all corners of the room came flying a variety of objects: pillows, blankets, glasses, candles, plates, and they all rearranged themselves on the floor of the living room.
"I've never exactly been… with someone before. As a partnership, I mean. But I want to learn. I thought… this is what people like us do, isn't it?" Severus asked nervously.
"Like us?"
"People… romantically involved."
"Oh… this is a date?!" Circe asked, a smile touching her mouth. "A picnic on the carpet."
"As we need to be careful with where we're seen together and by whom we're seen together, a picnic outside is a bit of a risk. So, "if the mountain can't come to Mohammed" et cetera…" Severus stated, gesturing back to the picnic spread. "But now of course with your injury, it's not the most practical, comfortable thing for y-"
He stopped dead as Circe slid off the sofa and plopped herself down on one of the pillows on the floor.
"I'll have the biggest glass of wine you can manage." Circe said as Severus settled onto the floor opposite her. "What have you made for us then?"
Severus reclined back and placed his arm on top of a pillow. He gazed up at Circe as a warm, contented look touched his dark eyes. Had this been another world, in another time, this little tableau he had created would have been a picnic outside, in the warmth of summer, by the side of a babbling Cotswolds brook. He imagined Circe not in the living room of Spinner's End, but in the golden sun, on a picnic blanket nestled in a bucolic, romantic setting. Perhaps he would nestle his head in her lap and doze lazily as they watched the clouds above them drift by. She would hum softly to him as she stroked his hair and swatted the wasps away from the sandwitches. Or maybe he would read aloud some of the poems and short stories he had begun reciting to her in the bath. Wordsworth's "Daffodils". Marlowe's "Shepherd"...
Perhaps one day. But not today.
Severus flicked his wand again and an array of neatly cut sandwiches filled their plates. "So we have egg and cress, salmon and cucumber or beef and horseradish." He said, pointing to each flavour as he went.
"Lovely." Circe grinned. "Oh wait, before you tuck into the egg and cress…"
She sat up onto her knees and leant forward to commence her hungry kisses upon Severus's mouth. He was a little startled to begin with, but his own longing cried out for her and he soon lost himself in the feel of her soft mouth, the slickness of her tongue, the gentle tickle of her hair against his face. From somewhere in the living room, Circe heard the ticking and whirring of her Cantuscope and they both paused, waiting for the machine to make its choice.
"I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes…"
They both groaned in unison.
"This fucking song again?!" Circe half-grumbled, half-laughed. "You can't escape it…"
"I rather like it." Severus purred, drawing her back into another kiss, trailing them down her neck.
"Love is all around me
And so the feeling grows."
"Who are you and what have you done with Severus Snape…" she muttered with a giggle. "You're turning into a right old softie, you know." She touched an exploratory hand to Severus's chest, hooking a finger under each button slowly.
"Entirely your fault." Severus murmured back, breathlessly, passing his hands over her body. "And no one will believe you if you told them." He chuckled.
"You know I love you, I always will
My mind's made up by the way that I feel
There's no beginning, there'll be no end
Cause on my love you can depend."
Circe passed a hand over Severus's groin, feeling the firmness of his arousal. He moaned and drew apart from her for a moment.
"Are you sure? With your arm, I mean…"
Circe unfastened his trousers with her hand and began stroking his member, eliciting a small groan of delight with each movement.
"I'll be gentle with you." She said coquettishly, pushing him down onto his back. She slipped her underwear off, climbing on top of Severus and with an achingly slow move of her hips, she lowered herself onto him. Severus grabbed onto her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh with an urgency and a longing that sent Circe's blood singing. She began rocking her hips back and forth, grinding herself into him and feeling his hard cock deep inside her. All her tiredness and soreness and fearfulness disappeared as she watched his face beneath her, frowning in that beautiful way he did when he was deeply aroused, concentrating so hard on not coming. She moaned too, tilting her head back as the wonderful feeling of him inside her completely filled every thought she had. The speed of her grinding grew in urgency, each time she lifted her hips she pressed harder and deeper into him. He could feel every movement, every part of her sweet sex moving against his. He could feel the growing tension, the squeezing of her pussy around him, and he uttered out breathlessly "I'm going to come…"
Circe didn't stop. When he fell apart, so did she, shivering like a leaf in the breeze when her own peak of pleasure came.
When it was all over, Circe lay at Severus's side as they both gazed up into the ceiling of the living room.
"I missed you so much, Severus." Circe breathed. "There wasn't a spare moment in the day that I wasn't thinking about you."
"And I you." He replied simply.
Circe sat up and leaned over his placid face, planting a sweet, lingering kiss on his forehead.
"Now pass me a salmon and cucumber."
Circe watched the countryside drift by outside the window of the Hogwarts express, far away in thought. The sun was setting over the hills of Scotland and Circe knew that they must be close. Tonks was reading her newspaper on the seat opposite her and the only noise in the carriage was the gentle chugging of the train. It had been, thankfully, an uneventful shift for them both as they had been tasked with keeping an eye on Harry during his return to Hogwarts. Once Circe had recovered enough movement in her arm that she could grip on to her wand, she'd asked to be put on the rota to watch over Harry. Especially after Potter and his oafish cousin had been attacked by Dementors later that same summer, after the long-winded fuorary with his "expulsion", then having his "expulsion" reversed, then summoning the boy to a Ministry hearing…
Severus had told her all about it when he'd come back to Cokeworth from Grimmauld Place, relaying to her the details of the boy's trial and the point-blank refusal of Fudge to even acknowledge that Harry had needed to defend himself from the monsters of Azkaban. The Ministry was in denial, and there was only so long they could continue to shut their eyes to the amassing darkness.
Circe touched a hand to the black oval around her neck. She had made a habit of making sure she wore it constantly these days. If any unexpected Dementors turned up on her doorstep, she wanted her new distinction of "praetor" to be seen clearly… Circe flexed her right arm, testing the soreness of her fingers and running a judging eye over her scar. She was healing fast, thanks to Severus's potions, but her arm muscles continued to be stiff and clumsy, her flesh still pink and bubbled and her use of her hand was very limited. Severus had made her start some exercises to try and build up her dexterity in her fingers which involved laying her hand out palm-down on a table's surface and one by one moving her fingers up and down. Currently she still struggled to move her two middle fingers even a centimeter off the table and she'd often end the night crying with frustration once Severus had gone to bed and she was left alone staring at her mutilated arm under the light of the swinging lamp above the kitchen table.
Circe didn't know how useful she would be in a duel now. She could hold on to her wand and cast a few nasty hexes if needed, but the more complex spellwork and flicks of the wand were something she knew she'd find hard if pushed to it. Luckily, Harry had been unbothered by nasty apparitions or dark wizards on his journey to school and for that Circe was thankful. That was partly why she'd asked to have Tonks accompany her whilst she was on duty but Circe could tell Tonks was a little disappointed every time she turned up to accompany her to their watch-post, not Remus… Still, they'd managed to have a decent catchup in their carriage and had gone most of the journey unnoticed and unbothered by the other students, thanks to a silencing charm and a blistering hex Tonks had placed on the handle to their booth. When the trolley lady had reached them, right at the end of the train, Circe and Tonks had pooled their money to buy as many sweets as they could like they used to back in the days when they travelled to school on the Hogwarts express. Circe still hated liquorice flies, Tonks still despised chocolate frogs and they both remembered why they would often arrive at Hogsmeade feeling a little nauseous by the end of the train journey. Over their treats and sugary snacks, they had talked and gossiped and discussed everything from last week's episode of 'Friends' to the difficult and stubborn men of The Order. It felt off for Circe to be dancing around the topic of Severus when Tonks talked so openly about her growing feelings for Remus and his rather frosty reciprocation to her since he'd been back at Grimmauld Place. She wanted to say "Oh, Severus does that." or "me and Sev have done the same thing" but Circe reluctantly had to swallow down her desire to relate to her friend. Her feelings of duplicitousness came back with avengence on that train journey, but it was a necessary evil.
One day me and Tonks will bitch about men completely openly, completely honestly. But not today… Another thing to save for one day in a nebulous future...
Circe looked back to her old friend, her eyes travelling downwards to the picture of Fudge on the front cover, the headline "ALL IS WELL" spread under his placid face. In the back of the photograph, Circe could just make out the bobbing head of Percy Weasley, hovering near the Minister's back.
"It's lucky Percy was able to provide an alibi for the day of the breakout…" Circe said, rousing Tonks from the pages of the Prophet.
Her pink head bobbed up from over the top of the paper and she peered back at Circe with a "Huh?". She closed the paper and looked back at the photo on the front page. "Oh, yeah. But Fudge himself was his bloody alibi! His own assistant's image was used in the Azkaban breakout and he had to provide evidence to spare Percy from being hauled in front of the Wizengamot…. And he still refuses to acknowledge that anything's going on!"
"You couldn't make it up could you…" Circe grumbled, folding her arms. "I have a nasty feeling Fudge will be known as the Neville Chamberlain of the wizarding world. The "appeasement" Prime Minister."
"Oh, my Dad told me about him. Didn't he bury his head in the sand too?"
Dads love reading about World War Two… Circe thought with a smile, remembering her own father.
"And ignored all of the warnings that might have stopped a very dangerous man from almost conquering the world…"
Circe hadn't been home all summer. She was still trying to keep her distance from her Dad and Step-mother's house, just in case any of her fellow Death Eaters came knocking there one day. As the weeks had rolled on, it had become increasingly difficult to think of excuses for why she was staying away. And from the tone of Matthew's letters to her, Circe could tell he suspected something was up. Eventually she'd told her Dad that her and a couple of her mates had decided to do a European interrailing holiday and she was off globetrotting over the summer holidays. It hadn't been hard to fake a few postcards from Hungary or Lithuania or Croatia every now and again but if her Dad ever checked the route she seemed to be taking, he'd have been outright baffled by the hopping all over the continent she seemed to be doing. Plus, when she'd been out for the day in Leamington Spa, doing some shopping for pureblood-appropriate attire, she'd been forced to hide in the changing rooms of 'House of Fraser' for over an hour when she thought she spied Jane out with little Tom. She missed her Dad with all her heart but she knew if she risked it and went to see him he'd ask about her scar, he'd ask about where she'd been. And if he did ask… Circe wasn't sure she'd be able to keep it from him.
As the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station, Circe and Tonks kept in their carriage as the students began filing out. It was better if Harry didn't know they were nearby, keeping an eye on him. The poor boy didn't need any more unnecessary attention on him, especially after the vicious words the Prophet had been printing about Harry's apparently fabricated claims. Circe had heard quite a few students talking in the train's corridors, or on the platform of 9 and ¾ about the "lies" and "attention-seeking fibs" Harry was circulating. Circe couldn't quite believe that so many of Harry's own peers didn't believe him, especially after what Dumbledore had told them, especially after the grief present throughout the whole school following Cedric's death… Had so many of them forgotten about Cedric already? It made Circe look at a few of her students differently now, knowing a fair number of them chose not to believe Harry. Once the noise had died down and it sounded like all of the students had either made it to the carriages or accompanied Hagrid to the boats, Circe and Tonks disembarked the train. There was a chill in the air and Circe wrapped her coat around herself tighter. She hugged Tonks goodbye, immensely grateful to have had those hours onboard the train with just her and her good friend that had made her feel halfway normal.
"I'll see you soon, buddy." she whispered in Tonk's ear.
"You make sure you do. And… er… good luck."
"For anything in specific? Or just generally?" Circe replied sardonically.
"I think I know who Fudge has appointed to be the new DADA teacher. Met her when me and Moody worked at the Ministry."
"Her? A woman this year..."
"The nastiest old toad I've ever met in my life, Cee." Tonks said gravely. "Dolores Umbridge. Watch out for her."
Circe bade her goodbye and trotted off to make her way up to the castle. As she passed by the carriages, she noted that there was still one that remained empty and unused and Circe made a beeline for it. These days, she tended to get tired rather quickly and Circe was wondering if Severus's potions were tapping on her energy reserves to speed up her healing process. But she halted straight in her tracks as she saw, at the front of the carriage, the ugliest looking creature she had ever laid eyes on. It looked like an emaciated, skeletal pegasus horse to her eyes and as she approached the beast, it whinnied at her in surprise as if it was shocked to find her staring at it. Circe shrunk back as the creature flapped its bat-like, leathery wings and she noted that the creature was attached to the front of the carriage.
What the bloody hell are you then, ehh….? Circe thought.
Severus was patrolling the corridors of Hogwarts, ushering the last couple of Slytherins to the Great Hall for the beginning of the year feast. He arched an inky brown when he heard, floating down the stone halls, a selection of raised voices arguing with one another.
Students fighting already..? He thought with a roll of his eyes. He hadn't used his 'teacher voice' for quite a while. It would be rather cathartic to have a good shout at a First Year...
He swept along, drawing nearer to the noise and eventually recognised one of the voices as Circe. He sighed, steeling himself before he entered the fray. CIrce was angry. He could hear it in her voice. In fact, he heard every word she was shouting in excruciating detail as he approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"You had no right to do this. They do not belong to you!"
The other voice was quiet and coldly calm and Severus struggled to hear their reply. But he heard Circe's…
"WHAT?! How dare you...!"
Severus thought that now was the right time to intervene. When he poked his head around the classroom door, he saw Circe, her back to him, squaring off in front of a woman covered head to toe in pink. The woman held a similarly pink handbag primly in front of her and she wore the slimiest, infuriating grin Severus had ever seen. On the floor in front of Cice was a pile of snapped CD's and broken plastic boxes, as well as the remains of what Severus assumed was the MMAP's Hi-Fi system. Severus cleared his throat and both of the women turned to face him. Circe looked red in the face and he could immediately sense her anger.
"Ah, it seems like I'm getting quite the staff welcome..." the pink woman stated with a giggle. "Dolores Umbridge, former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and newly appointed Prof-"
"She's destroyed them all, Severus. All of the music the MMAP kept in here…." Circe breathed out, breathless with fury. Severus watched Circe's jaw clench with infuriation.
"This is my classroom, is it not? I have a right to decide what rubbish I wish to throw away and what I wish to keep." Umbridge said demurely. She had not moved a muscle since Severus had entered the room. Her feet were primly placed together in a stance that screamed delicateness but also steadfastness. Whereas Circe could barely keep still, swaying from foot to foot and absent-mindedly rubbing her bad arm as she seethed.
"If you didn't want them in here, fair enough. But did you have to smash it all?" Circe asked incredulously.
"My dear, I'm rather concerned that this kind of activity has been allowed to happen at Hogwarts at all. Muggle music. How vulgar…"
"Something wrong with that, Dolores?" Circe spat back.
"Professor Smith…" Severus interrupted, laying a hand on Circe's arm. He kept his face rigid and emotionless, but his squeeze frighteningly tight. "If I am correct in my summations, Professor Umbridge is here under strict instructions from the Minister pertaining to the general wellbeing of our students."
"And?" Circe asked shortly.
"And…" Umbridge interrupted. "Quite plainly, my dear, anything that I eventually deem to be unnecessary or un-wizardly will be placed under the strictest scrutiny henceforth."
""Un-wizardly"." Circe echoed with a sneer. "I bet your favorite Beatle was Yoko too…"
"Professor Smith, a word." Severus muttered, pulling Circe out of the classroom.
Snape dragged Circe out into the corridor and kept walking until they were both comfortably out of Umbridge's earshot. After she'd been man-handled for a considerable distance, Circe pulled her arm free of Severus's grasp with a groan, marching on ahead of him.
"Circe… what the bloody hell happened there?" he asked, trying to grab at her hand more gently. Circe flinched out of his grasp, still incandescent with anger.
"The horrible, little, toad-facecd, supremacist…" Circe grumbled through clenched teeth. "God, Tonks was right about her, and I've only known her for ten minutes! She broke every single one. Every one of their Cd's, Sev. And Lee's Hi-Fi too. In bits on the floor! She's taken their music away from them merely because it doesn't fit into her superior pureblood world. Anything muggle is evil. Anything "un-wizardly" is inferior. And you almost made it sound excusable. Like you agreed with her.``
"Circe, use your brain!" Severus hissed at her, losing his temper somewhat. "Umbridge has been sent here because the Ministry wants to interfere at Hogwarts. You know what Cornelius has been saying of late. "Dumbloedore is dangerous", "He's breeding an army of anti-ministry students here in this school". Fudge wants to find issues, he wants to find dissenters so he can oust them. It will be better for both of us if she is allowed to feel like she has like-minded individuals in here. Don't make an enemy of her..."
"So I'm meant to just stand by as she takes away their happiness?" she asked.
"Yes! Yes, you must. If you're still set on continuing your spying work you will have to become used to doing things that may make you uncomfortable."
Circe was shocked into silence. She knew Severus was right but it still stung to hear. She also knew she may be asked to do things much more dubious than merely enabling the destruction of a CD collection… But somehow this was something she struggled to let slide, to play along with for the sake of maintaining cover. This felt like a loss of innocence, like a destruction of something joyous and sentimental. War is war, but this just felt spiteful to Circe. She touched a hand to the lumps of scar tissue on her forearm, frowning deeply. Severus saw her hand running up and down her sleeve and his heart ached for her.
"I know you still feel upset about your arm… and your own music." he said gently. "But you can't be seen letting that influence your actions."
"This isn't about my arm, Severus." she replied shortly.
"But it is though, isn't it. You don't want their music taken away like..." he trailed off, realising what he'd been about to say.
"Like it's been taken from me?" Circe shot back derisively. She turned on her heels and went marching off before any more tears could spring up in her eyes.
Circe… Circe..!" he called after her.
She didn't want Severus to see her cry. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd been right.