~Year 6~

AN: I wanted this chapter to be a bit different narratively than the others. So it takes place, in large, in rememberance and flashback, with the main focus being those 3am chats in the garden that feel like therapy.

Also, in the UK the song for this chapter is an ad for a sofa company lol. Took time to get over, but after that... what a banger!

Chapter 64: "Those who feel the breath of sadness, Sit down next to me. Those who find they're touched by madness, Sit down next to me."

Severus turned over in his bed and looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table.

Three-Thirty. And Circe's not back yet.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and peering around the dark, damp-smelling room for his dressing gown. Neither of them had slept that night, although they had both pretended to for a bit, but there was little else to do in the dark hours of the early morning, other than sit awake and worry or try and sing yourself to sleep. And it seemed both of them were finding it hard to find a soothing thought to usher them into rest.

Once out of bed, he hopped over the many boxes and suitcases that had come back to Spinner's End that summer with he and Circe, almost tripping over one of her trunks as he stumbled about in the dark. He muttered a lock-jawed curse at the inanimate object and threw his dressing gown around his shoulders with a huff. He glanced quickly at his bedside table, and the little draw that sat at the bottom of it. It was a habit now. Checking that the drawer was still closed. He had placed his mother's ring in there for the time being, waiting on a time to naturally present itself when it felt proper enough to use it. Circe had said rather explicitly that she didn't want to be proposed to so soon after their bout of sorrow, and Severus respected that wish. But nevertheless, he lived in perpetual fear of Circe finding it, his heart going through a mini panic-attack each time she was near the drawer. He wanted to hide it somewhere less conspicuous, somewhere that could not be stumbled upon so easily. But he found Spinner's End noticeably lacking in free space of recent...

The sooner I get the bloody spare room back, the better. He thought as he peeled back the thin net curtains. Severus looked down the terraced row of houses, keeping a weather eye out not just for Circe but for anyone else that might be prowling around in the dark. But the street was empty. All he could hear was the distant whir of police sirens and the strained, screaming of fucking cats. He closed the nets with a frown, his worry growing within him. Circe had gotten up about half an hour ago and left their bedroom as quietly as she could, hopping over trunks and piles of knick-knacks as he had done only moments ago. She thought she'd managed to get up and leave without waking Severus up. She had been wrong.

And she's still not back. He thought again.

He wondered if something had happened to her. He'd heard Circe gently close the front door behind her and as he'd lay in the bed, he wondered if he should have gotten up and gone after her. But perhaps she needed some air. Perhaps she wanted some space and quietness. Perhaps she was having another one of her panic attacks. Truth be told, Severus had remained still and listening intently in the dark just in case Circe was off to sneak down the hall to the spare room… or if their guest made a similar move to leave the house after her. But, there had been no noise from the room and Severus had tried to go back into a restless doze, but found himself staring up at the patch of damp on the ceiling whilst his jealous pangs died down and he waited for Circe's return.

He traced his eyes from left to right, up and down Spinner's End, from the abandoned coffee factory on the hill, all the way down to the bottom of the street where the 24-hour Off-License was. And she was nowhere to be seen.

"Shit." he whispered aloud to himself. A thousand and one awful and terrible scenarios went through his mind as he pictured what could have possibly held Circe up. Had she been caught in a muggle attack? Had she been arrested again? Had she met with one of Voldemort's new and awful recruits out in the dark?

His thoughts halted as a strong, pungent smell drifted through the open window. He sniffed. Cigarettes.

He pressed his forehead up close to the glass, as close as he could get, and glanced down into the overgrown, weedy garden. And there, sitting in a mouldy, white garden chair, was Circe. A lit cigarette in her hand.

"Oh for fuck sake…" he muttered, breathing a sigh of relief.

Severus emerged onto the garden patio, his nightgown wrapped around him against the chilly summer night, watching Circe smoke her cigarette as she stared off into the black, smoggy, Cokeworth sky.

"The Off-License was still open then?" He asked quietly, pulling up another old, cracked garden chair beside her.

Circe turned to him as he sat down, trying to pass off her hand tremors as flicking her cigarette. "I… couldn't sleep. Not after this afternoon. So I took a bit of a walk…"

Severus nodded slowly. The memories of their most recent conclave replaying to him in a tense blur.

"No, me neither." He admitted honestly. "I think it's a good thing our guest shall be moving on to Grimmauld Place soon." He added, flicking his eyes up to the spare room window above them.

Circe sighed and patted the ash from her cigarette. She rubbed her tired eyes and took another drag. She knew Severus would be tetchy and jealous of their mutual guest at Spinner's End. But after all that had happened that afternoon at Malfoy Manor, the fact that he was fixating on the woman asleep upstairs was almost unbelievable...

Severus watched Circe's exasperated face for a moment and knew that he'd said the wrong thing.

"Pass us one." he said, pointing at the cigarette in her hands.

"They didn't do packs. They only had 'baccie and papers. I had to get Amber Leaf." she explained, holding up her wonky, self-rolled cigarette.

"That's fine. It looks like you need practise anyway, if you're going to be taking up this habit." Severus replied with a coy smile.

"I never used to smoke regularly." she began sheepishly, as she started making Severus his rollie. "I only ever used to smoke after a gig with Myron, or at parties. Now I kind of get why they gave these things to soldiers in the trenches… It gives you a weird sense of calm, even if everything around you seems completely out of your control. Swept along by the undercurrent. And the wave will either bear your weight or leave you behind, either way it's still flowing."

Severus wasn't quite sure what to say to her, but she looked at him sat beside her and she smiled. Happy enough just to have him close by. He knew she didn't want a pep talk or a lecture. She was troubled and frightened. He was too. But it was enough just for Severus to sit beside her and be a sympathetic companion.

Circe handed Severus the cigarette she had made and he took it from her. He held it up in front of him and said nothing, staring at the bent, mess of a rollie she had passed to him. He looked back to Circe with a raised eyebrow... and she burst out into laughter.

"What the hell is that?" he chuckled back, looking from the rollie to Circe.

"Sorry..! I told you I'm no good at rolling my own."

"It shall do." he sighed, taking the lighter from her outstretched hand. He lit his cigarette and took a long puff. It had been many years since he'd smoked his last cigarette, but the ashy taste and the throaty burn were at once familiar to him. He leaned back into his garden chair and it creaked under his weight, ready to fall apart at any moment. He looked at Circe for a long moment, stuck into rolling her next cigarette, her hands shaking.

"Circe... " he began gently.

"Don't, Sev." she interrupted him swiftly. "If you have to ask why I'm awake-"

"No, I was going to say that what happened wasn't your fault."

Circe visibly flinched and closed her eyes. She could still hear the screams ringing in her ears. Echoing off the red brick houses around her until they almost reverberated inside her skull. They sat heavy in the warm, summer air. Slicing through the thick, black night like lightning.

"Poor Bella…" Circe muttered.

"Poor Bella?!" repeated Severus incredulously. "After all she made you do last year, it is her you feel sympathy for?"

"That's how He treats his own, Sev! Bellatrix is his most loyal servant, and he tortured her in front of us!"

The conclave at Malfoy Manor had not been a pleasant affair. There was none of the veiled pleasantries and wine as there had been at the Pettigrew residence. The Dark Lord's wrath shook the very foundations of the house. His fury made the teeth rattle inside Circe's head. She had thought that they would all die that night, after arriving at the Malfoy's mansion and sitting through the rage-filled outburst of Voldemort the moment her and Severus had set foot in the meeting room. She had little choice but to sit through it and wait. Maybe wait for the Dark Lord to kill her, or someone, out of spite and fury. Maybe wait for Voldemort to torture one of them as a means by which to channel his anger into something destructive and vile. But what Circe had not expected was for that person to have been Bellatrix.

"Bellatrix disappointed him. That is how He shows his disappointment." Severus replied with a gruffness to his voice. "She failed to retrieve The Prophecy and succeeded in revealing His existence to the whole world."

She knew Severus spoke the truth, but still she heard the ripping and blood-curdling screams of Bellatrix in her ears. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that electrifying flash of red and Bellatrix's body writhing on the floor of Malfoy Manor. Her muscles contorting and twitching in the same way the muggle man had on that night of the Christmas market. The puppeteer of pain now becomes the puppet. The person who had caused all of that agony and anguish was now at the other end of a cruciatus. Circe knew she shouldn't have even a shred of pity inside her for Lestrange, but she did. It disturbed her that she felt pity for Bellatrix Lestrange…

"I know she would have done the same to Dad and Jane… and Tom and Alec. It's because of her that I had to obliviate my family. It's because of her that I had to take their memories of me… perhaps forever. And I know that she bloody deserves it, Sev…. But I… I don't know… I feel..."

"You take no pleasure from seeing her pain." Severus completed for her.

"I fucking hate her, Sev." Circe uttered out through rising tears. "She took my family from me. She killed Sirius…"

"Circe, do not punish yourself because you are still empathetic." Severus whispered, grasping her hand. "Being merciful in the face of so much malevolence is nothing to be ashamed of."

"He is right, ma cherie." Odette's voice came from the back door of Spinner's End.

Severus and Circe both wheeled around to face their guest with a start.

"Odette! Did we wake you up?" Circe sighed apologetically, sitting up in her garden chair and wiping her eyes.

"Oh Mon Dieu, what is that?" Odette asked with a giggle, pointing at the rolled monstrosities in Circe's and Severus's hands. "Alors, you are putting way too much leaf in the papers, ma cherie!"

Sounds about right. Circe thought with a self-deprecating scoff. Always too much or too little.

"Give me the tobacco." Odette said gently, waving at the pack in Circe's lap. "My father used to let me roll his cigarettes for him when he'd retire to the Library after dinner."

Odette sat on the last of the white, mouldy garden chairs and took the Amber Leaf and papers from Circe with a smile. Odette cast her cold, blue eyes over Severus's nightgown and smirked. He felt a pang of embarrassment ripple through him, unused to other people, apart from Circe, seeing him in anything other than his black wizarding robe ensemble. She too was dressed for bed, but whilst Severus's gown was old and thick, hers was silken and delicate. It shone almost luminous, pearlescent white in the moonlight whereas Severus's dark blue tartan made him melt into the shadows of the weedy garden.

"I'm afraid we do not have a Library to "retire to" here, Madame Lestrange." Severus said dryly.

"Alas, non. But this setting is rather more… intimate than the extensive rooms of Chateau des Papillons." Odette stated, keeping her head high and her voice staunchly polite. She cast a quick, but obviously judgemental look around the weedy garden and out over the other red brick, terraced houses. "And as the English saying goes: "beggars cannot be choosers", can they…"

"Defectors cannot be choosers." Severus added with a stab of coldness.

"Sev, stop it!" Circe muttered, elbowing him in the ribs. "Pot. Kettle. Black. Don't you think?"

Severus ground his teeth together and stared at Odette with another deep stab of jealousy in his guts. Circe scoffed at the two of them, looking from one raven-haired and high cheekboned person to the other. She was too weary to attempt to get either of them to stand down and instead slumped back in the garden chair with a roll of her eyes. Nevertheless, she caught herself remembering something Odette had said to her last summer in Normandy:

God, they really are the male and female equivalent of each other aren't they… Not just to look at, but both proud and stubborn as a mule...

There was a moment of tense silence whilst Severus and Odette glared at one another. Until eventually Odette sighed heavily and her sharp features softened. She did not have to be a Lestrange knife anymore, she did not have to be the instrument of their design now.

"Circe, it is alright. It is only natural that Monsieur Snape would feel a pang of jealousy at my presence here..." Odette said in her low, melodic voice. "And yes, I defected of my own choosing. But even I was surprised at Dumbledore's suggestion that I stay here with you both considering our… prior history. And despite all that, Monsieur Snape still chose to receive me in his home…I may not sound it, but I am grateful for the safety you have offered me. I just perhaps assumed incorrectly that The Order would at least have a proper safe house of some kind."

"We do." Circe said firmly, taking a newly rolled and perfectly straight cigarette from Odette's hand. "It's just… the owner of it died quite recently and we're not entirely sure who the new Master is yet."

"Still, I shall be gone from under your feet by tomorrow. Nevertheless…" Odette muttered, handing out a peace-offertory cigarette to Severus "... if I were Bellatrix or one of my other lovely in-laws, the first place I would come looking for me is with you, Circe."

Severus swallowed his pride and took the cigarette from Odette.

Whilst Odette made her own smoke, the three of them sat in an uneasy silence in the garden of Spinner's End. Odette's defection had been the second most prominent point of gossip at the conclave at Malfoy Manor that night. Circe had almost fainted with shock when her old lover had appeared in Dumbledore's office at the end of the school year but Odette's conversations with her and the Headmaster had informed them of her change of loyalties.

"Plainly put, Albus.." Odette had said, that day in the office. "... my husband has been arrested and incarcerated in Azkaban for the second time in our marriage, under the services of The Dark Lord. My children do not know their father, and have barely had any time at all to come to know him before Voldemort had him off on another suicide mission. I want my boys to know their father. I want them to grow up in a world that is safe. Free of Voldemort. I want my family to survive this war. And I do not see that happening in service to The Dark Lord."

"But your children, Odette. Gabriel and Raphael…" Circe had breathed . "You've left them… in France. Rabastan will get out of Azkaban again, Voldemort will see to that, and when he does, they'll be left to him and his teachings…"

"Yes, ma cherie. And that is the choice I have made. My sons will either grow up to see me in one of two ways: If He wins, they will grow up being told that I was a traitor and a turncoat who left the innermost sanctums of the Dark Lord's circle to betray him to the Order. If he does not win, and I can do something to make that happen, then we can live out the rest of our lives in peace, without His orders, without His shadow, without my sons being forced to follow in their father's footsteps… Rabastan is a fool. He does as The Dark Lord bids, almost without thought. But he loves mes anges. He will look after our sons regardless of how this war ends."

"And currently?" Dumbledre had asked. "Where are your sons now? With their mother having flown France and their father back in a prison cell?"

"I have left specific instructions with Hommehoughair." Odette replied confidently. "They will remain at school until further notice. They will not mind too much; several students choose to stay over the summer holidays at Hommehoughair, including many of their fellow Quidditch teammates."

"They both got on to the team?" Circe asked with a small smile, remembering that afternoon in the Normandy sun with Gabriel and Raplael, all on their brooms, chasing each other in the sky.

"They did. They wrote and told me of their achievement and how happy they were in November, and I've hardly had a word from either of them since!" Odette replied with a happy tut.

Circe sat uneasily in her garden chair, her mind flitting in between that day in Dumbledore's office and the events of the most recent conclave. She had told Odette of what had happened to Bellatrix earlier that night, when her and Severus had both returned to Cokeworth pale and shaking, but she hadn't quite found the heart to tell her of what had happened to Draco…

The poor boy had looked green in the gills as he had been forced to watch his aunt tortured on his plush green carpets. It had been his first gathering too… Circe felt sick to her core at the memory of the young man being so rudely and violently introduced to the life of the Death Eater. And again, she found herself marvelling at how Voldemort treated his own. So much cruelty, so much violence, so little innocence remaining at the end of it all.

I wonder how happy with her decision Odette would be if she knew that's how children are treated in Voldemort's fold. Circe thought with a grimace, casting a small glance at her old friend sat across the patio from her. The glow from her cigarette illuminated her sharp features in the darkness and for a second, Circe could see the lines of worry and the shadows of fretting on Odette's face. Lines that had always been there, but until now had remained buried and hidden with a mask of politeness and propriety.

I always hoped that you weren't one of them. Circe thought as a smile pulled at her lips. Her eyes drifted over to Severus, who watched her intently with a spark of covetousness in his eye. She gave him a small smile too, and he seemed to relax a little at her show of affection towards him.

"I wrote to Dumbledore and told him of what Odette mentioned." Severus said, finally breaking the silence. "Or rather, who she mentioned. We finally have the mole. And until we know who the Master of Grimmauld Place is, it might mean Madame Lestrange is to remain here for a measure longer."

"Are you sure it was Kreacher that you saw at Malfoy Manor?" Circe asked, her brow furrowing.

"You know what House Elves are like… always muttering and saying their own names under their breaths. Great big ears and a wicked temper…"

"Yep, that's Kreacher alright." Circe muttered.

"And I heard what he told Lucius and Bellatrix of the Potter boy's visions. He must have overheard his conversations with Black. He couldn't wait to spill what he knew to us. Apparently there was some sort of fight around Christmas time… And Sirius was in a worse mood than usual afterwards..."

Circe looked to Severus and he blushed fiercely underneath his dressing gown.

"And he was upset anyway because the "muggle-born scum were going through his Master's things"?" Odette said with a small frown.

"The children were upstairs in Regulus's room, throwing out his old belongings. That's the day I found his journal…" Circe stated solemnly.

"And I can only imagine that Kreacher only had to make a small mumble about his old Mistress, or be caught under Sirius's feet at the wrong moment, for Black to take out his frustration on an already distraught House Elf…." Severus added, staring at the cigarette in his hands.

"So why is Dumbledore even considering still using Grimmauld Place?" asked Circe exasperatedly. "Kreacher will just go running to the Malfoys again as soon as he hears something else that'll bring us down."

"Well, that is why it is imperative that we find out who Black left his house to. They are the Master of Grimmauld Place now, and therefore the Master of Kreacher. If instructed, the House Elf would never talk to another living soul for the rest of his life."

"But surely Sirius told him to-"

"Sirius's instructions probably weren't specific enough." Severus explained.

"Oui, I heard him telling Narcissa that Sirius told him to "get out" and he took that to mean "get out of the house" altogether." Odette chimed in.

"And go straight to Malfoy Manor." Circe added in a solemn tone.

The wailing of police sirens drew closer and all three of them fell silent, holding their breaths as the noise grew in volume. Circe's chest tightened as the police car went screaming down Spinner's End. The blue and red lights winking off the walls of the garden. Severus too seemed to tense up beside her and did not relax until the noise went receding away into the distance.

"Another attack?" she asked, looking at Snape with a frown.

"Possibly. I must say Voldemort's new recruits are taking to their duties with zeal." Severus stated sarcastically.

"I've never seen a werewolf who looked like that…" Circe breathed, her hands shaking again. "He wasn't like Remus. He was more animal than man."

"Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He is the monster that most wizards believe werewolves are. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to conta minate as many children as possible; he wants to create enough were wolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. In fact, I believe it was he who bit Remus himself..."

"Oh my God…" Circe whispered.

"Children?" Odette asked, a deeply troubled look blooming across her face. "He bites children?"

Circe did not answer her, the image of Greyback's snarled and bared teeth flashing before her in her mind's eye. It made her sick, it invoked memories of a night she half-remembered a long time ago. But she had never looked at Remus as the monster that had attacked her underneath the Whomping Willow; he was too kind and gentle and too far removed from the beast that overtook him. But Fenrir was. He was that grey blur of blood and slashing and pain. Greyback too had been present that evening at Malfoy Manor. A massive, bestial thing. All muscle and claws and teeth, without a shred of humanity to him. He was all wolf. Circe had passed by Greyback on her way to take her place at the table of Death Eaters, and she shivered, believing that she could still feel Fenrir's long whiskers brushing against her skin. The Dark Lord had not marked him, and she wondered why. Why hadn't Greyback been given the Dark Mark like the others gathered that night? Voldemort marked his other dogs, why not Fenrir? She touched a hand to her scarred arm, thinking on her own Dark Mark, or rather the absence of it. And she hoped and prayed with everything within her that that's where the similarities between her and Fenrir Greyback began and ended.

"I think…" Severus began, slowly rising from his chair. "...that I'll put the kettle on, before going back to bed."

"Tea? At this hour?" Odette asked, rising to her feet also. "I brought a good few bottles of our estate's whiskey with me from Normandy. Would anyone care for a glass?"

"I may be tempted." Severus replied with a raised brow. "Circe?"

"Hmm?" Circe asked, suddenly shaken out of her speculations by the sound of her name. "Oh, yeah… Whiskey. Okay."

Odette hung back for a heartbeat, silently studying her old lover's face as the shadow of pain and worry descended back over her features. She knew that Circe had gone through hardships since they last had parted, some because of her and some she kept hidden. The scar on her arm was evidence enough of their daleance on Azkaban island last summer, and Odette still winced every time she caught a glimpse of the mark on Circe's skin.

Perhaps if Bellatrix and Rabastan hadn't encouraged me to leave you to the Dementors, I might have spared you that scar. Odette thought solemnly, her regret running deep. But I do wish you would divulge the new scar that lies across your heart to me, ma cherie…

She turned and nodded to Severus, before disappearing back into the house.

Severus turned to Circe and moved himself to stand behind her. He lay a gentle hand on her shoulder and brushed the curls away from her neck. He bent low, planting a kiss just behind her ear and whispering to her.

"So are you coming back to bed?"

"I won't sleep."

"Neither will I. But if we're both going to be awake…" Severus purred with a wicked grin.

Circe chuckled and put out the end of her cigarette. She stood to her feet and turned to face Snape with a grin. She kissed him, pulling him close to her and tasting the nicotine on his tongue.

"If… if you wanted to confide in Odette, and tell her about what happened…" Severus whispered to her. "I would not mind. I can bite down my own jealousy."

"What?" Circe muttered.

"You haven't spoken to anyone, my love. Not Tonks, not Myron. And I hear you crying in your sleep for your father."

Circe's throat closed with emotion and she fought down the rising tide of tears in her eyes. Hearing Severus speak the word "father" aloud almost sent her over the edge.

"I'm not always like this…" she whispered hoarsely. "Sometimes I'm fine. I'm good. Coping. In the upswing. I feel like it will all get better eventually and one day I won't feel like I'm about to drown... But then when I'm in the downswing, it's almost like the low gets lower each time. Each time I allow myself to forget for a bit, and then I remember that Dad doesn't know me… or I wake up from a dream and I remember what happened with Seren…. The hammer blow strikes again. But harder and harder each time."

"Circe, you can't follow your own bloody advice. Remember what you told Potter. Share the load. Divide the burden. Talk to someone."

"I talk to you…" she muttered.

"But you wish for someone separate and removed from what happened with your father and with Seren. I think I'm too close to you, if that makes sense… And there are others who understand the breath of sadness upon a person as I do."

"Odette has enough to worry about with regards to her own children. Let alone my… My thing." she responded weakly. Severus could feel her trembling again and his anxiety rose up within him like bad bile. "And I don't think she'd be particularly inclined to hear my complaints if she knew I'd helped to put another child of the Malfoy-Lestrange clan in danger…."

"Circe, I told you… What happened wasn't your fault. In fact, you may have saved Draco's life. All of The Malfoy's lives."

Circe closed her eyes, seeing instantly the electrifying red cruciatus curse contorting Bellatrix's body on the floor earlier that night. The memory played out in her mind, her powerless to stop it from replaying in all of its awful detail:

She could feel the thumping of her heart beneath Eileen Prince's dress. She could see the shaking of her hands lying across the Malfoy's dining table. She could hear the ringing in her ears from Narcissa's desperate pleas, mixed with her sister's agonised cries. She could count every black tooth in Bellatrix's head as she screamed and screamed and screamed. She watched as each Death Eater turned and looked away from the dying woman on the floor, staring into their lap or closing their eyes to the torment in front of them. She felt the hot tears on her cheeks once more as she watched young Draco's face contort with horror and fright as the last of his childhood died in the red flicker of the cruciatus curse.

"My Lord, please!" she heard herself say again. In an instant the sizzling buzz of Voldemort's curse stopped and those yellow eyes were on her. Jaundiced eyes, Regulus called them. She thought to herself as Voldemort blinked expectantly at her.

"Is there something you wish to say, Praetor?" Voldemort asked in a hiss. "Do you wish to intervene on behalf of this useless, unworthy, pathetic -"

"Cockroach?" Circe ventured bravely. Bellatrix looked up at her from the green carpet floor, hatred and recognition in her eyes. Circe looked away from her before Bellatrix could retort, making it appear like she cared little for any possible retort Lestrange might have for her. To those watching, she appeared fearless and cock-sure, but beneath the table she clung on to Severus's hand so tightly, her nails dug into his palm.. "Perhaps the Lestranges and the Malfoys can be redeemed. Prove themselves to you, My Lord" she spoke with more confidence than she truly felt.

"The Malfoys have been endeavouring to prove just that all year, Praetor!" Voldemort roared, rounding on Narcissa and Draco both. They shrank back from him with a terrified whimper. "And dear Lucious now has the inside of a prison cell and a shattered Prophecy to show for all of his efforts."

Voldemort turned to circle around Bellatrix, peering down at her as if she were dirt on the bottom of his shoe. And Bellatrix, poor Bellatrix who was touched by madness, laughed into the plush green carpet. Her face running with tears and clutching at her ribs.

"And this cockroach, as you put it yourself, escaped the Ministry just in time to leave me open and vulnerable to Dumbledore's attack. I have been seen!" He roared, sending another red curse through Bellatrix. "And it is all because of the meddling of adolescent wizards and witches!"

"She killed Sirius Black." Circe answered Voldemort, daring to show bravery and challenge. Voldemort stopped his circling of Lestrange and looked directly at Circe. A shark stopping in its circling of prey. Circe was suddenly reminded of another of Regulus's descriptions.

The shark and the baitfish. She thought, her eyes flicking from the cowering Death Eaters avoiding her looks, and then back to the Master who could not look away from her. He wants challenge. He longs for more than just yes men.

"Someone who should have died a long time ago, but one less enemy for you my Lord." She continued, raising her chin. Severus gripped her hand tightly, terrified at her obvious defiance.

"Black has been a thorn in my side for many years." Voldemort hissed, drawing closer to her. He leant over the table and stared directly into her face. He smelt like embalming fluid. He was a walking corpse, and Circe found her fear of him slightly diminished.

"And Bellatrix has shown her loyalty to you by plucking this thorn from you. Even if that thorn came from her own family." She spoke in a whisper.

"That does not excuse her mistakes thereafter!" The Dark Lord growled, his yellow eyes flaring.

"And I'm sure that she, as well as the other remaining Malfoy's, wish to tell you just how eager they are to raise their standards in your eye."

Circe glanced at Narcissa, who looked at her with eyes wild with fright. She cradled Draco close to her, holding on to him as if his life depended on it.

Voldemort turned from her, his black cloak billowing over Circe's face as he spun around. She had to stop herself from gagging as the sweet smell of death broke over her. He started circling Narcissa and Draco, every inch the apex predator.

"Please… Lucius tried so hard to fulfil your wishes…" Narcissa uttered.

"Enough!" He spat, lurching for Draco with a snarl of his bone fingers.

Narcissa screamed but Draco was lurched free of his mother with a whimper. He stood up straight, facing Voldemort with something akin to bravery, but Circe could see the terror in his face, plain and obvious.

"Lucius's boy. His heir…" The Dark Lord breathed, running his wand through Draco's silver hair. "Oh Nagini, is he not like Hericclus?"

The great snake seemed to slither out of the very shadows and cool up under her masters feet with a flick of the tongue. Circe frowned. The name was unknown to her, to everyone in the room it seemed judging by the look of confusion Severus shot her. But she mentally logged it for later, her attentions at that moment firmly on Draco.

"Well, do they not say "the sins of the father are not the sins of the son" after all?" Voldemort asked with a cruel smile.

"Oh thank you, my Lord!" Narcissa cried, reaching for him. But she was stopped in her tracks when Voldemort fixed her with a venomous look of a cobra about to strike. She gasped and shrank back from him.

"Hold out your hand, Malfoy the Younger."

Draco's eyes bulged.

"Oh, my Lord! You honor us!" Bellatrix moaned, still curled up on the floor.

Draco extended his wrist out to The Dark Lord, shaking in his impeccably tailored suit. A boy playing dress up in a man's clothes. Voldemort pounced on his exposed wrist like an adder.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, I bind you to me." Voldemort cried, pressing his wand to the boy's flesh. "To restore your family's pride and honor, I choose you for my most special of tasks."

"My Lord!" Bellatrix cried happily, raising her matted and wild curls off of the floor, watching her nephew's indoctrination with pride. Circe watched with horror.

"Mors Morde!" He hissed, and the tattoo burned into Draco's skin. He cried out and tried to pull away, but Voldemort held firm. "And your task, Malfoy the Younger, is thus: you must kill Albus Dumbledore."

Circe wept in the garden of Spinner's End. She heard those awful words ringing in her head, as awful as any of the screams heard that night. Severus held on to her tight as she cried, waiting for the tears to stop and rocking her gently.

"I never wanted that to happen, Severus…" she sobbed into his chest. "I thought he'd give Bellatrix some impossible task, or maybe Narcissa. Not Draco. Not a kid."

"Circe, it wasn't your fault." He repeated again forcefully. "You couldn't have known Voldemort would turn on Draco like that."

"I can't… he can't… I won't let him become a murderer, Sev. He's just a boy."

"We will not let that happen."

Circe cried into Severus's chest, burying her face deep into his dressing gown. The distant smell of damp on his clothes was something of a comfort to her now. He stroked her hair and shushed her comfortingly. She hung in to him with all her strength, her hands clasped tightly around his back as the terror and the worry that had kept her up all night finally caught up with her. The kitchen light flicked on and Circe could hear Odette muttering to herself in French as she searched for Severus's tumblers. She took in a deep breath and wiped her eyes. Severus too listened as Odette busied herself in his kitchen, watching as the ocherous light fell over Circe's weary face. The bags under her eyes seemed deeper, her brilliant emerald irises a little muted.

"I do not pretend to be an expert when it comes to dealing with pain and sorrow, my love. But I think I can rather be used as a bad example of how to healthily handle both. Are you afraid that Odette will judge you?"

"No. She wouldn't…" Circe replied swiftly.

"Then all I'm saying is, don't do what I did. When someone offers to sit beside you and listen, take them up on their offer. I didn't. And I let the best part of eleven years pass me by because I believed I was better off drowning."

"So who was there to sit by your side?" Circe asked, remembering all too well how Severus's sadness had seemed to radiate off of him when she had first come to Hogwarts.

"Well, there was Dumbledore .. who tried for a while. Minerva too, and I shunned her also. But the person who eventually ended up getting through to me was this upstart little Ancient Studies Professor who refused to let me bully her."

"Ugh, she sounds galling." Circe replied with a smirk.

"Oh she is. She's also the reason why I'm not a miserable husk of a man anymore."

Circe scoffed, but her retort was cut short by Severus's ardent mouth on hers.

Odette cleared her throat primly from the back door, two glasses of whiskey in her hands. Circe and Severus drew apart from one another with a bashful blush on both of their cheeks.

"I left yours in the kitchen, Monsieur Snape." Odette explained with a gentle incline of her head back inside Spinner's End.

Severus nodded his thanks and whispered into Circe's ear, "Come to bed when you are ready, my love. Like I said, I will be awake too for when you come back..."

He drew apart from her with Circe still able to feel the warmth of his breath on her neck when he was gone from her sights. Odette walked slowly towards Circe and handed her a tumbler. They both took a cautious sip of the dark liquid as the sounds of sirens still played far off in the distance.

"Are you to retire too, ma cherie? Or would you like a companion to sit and enjoy the nocturnal delights of Cokeworth with?" she asked, a sarcastic drawl to her voice.

"I remember when me and you used to stay up all night, camped out on the roof of Beauxbattons, just be be able to watch the sun rise." Circe said with a wistful glance up into the sky.

"And we would talk. Well, I would mostly complain about my father. And you would tell me of your mother. Or your friends back in England. Or anything else that troubled us or played on our mind..."

Circe's face fell into a firm, expressionless mask. She took in a deep breath, staring at her hands clasped around her tumbler, and plunged headfirst into what she wanted to say.

"Odette, I had a miscarriage." she stated plainly.

Odette gasped with a little sharp intake of shocked breath. "Oh, ma cherie…" she sighed, her brow knitting together in sympathy. "I knew there was something else. Another wound you carried that was not visible in the way your battle scar was. When?"

"Not long before you turned up at Hogwarts."

"Ahh, and that is why I see the freshness of the wound in your eyes." Odette muttered, sinking back down into her mouldy garden chair. "Come. Tell me how it all happened."

Circe glanced at the seat beside her and huffed. A faint smile pulled at the side of her mouth. "Only if you roll me another cigarette first."

"I will teach you how to do it properly." Odette replied firmly, a small smile appearing on her face too as Circe sat down. "You share your burden with me, and whilst you talk I shall show you what a proper rolled cigarette should look like. Not those over-stuffed, bent monstrosities you were trying to give to poor Monsieur Snape. D'accord?"

"Deal."

And so, Circe talked. Until the sun began to creep over the walls of the weed-infested garden of Spinner's End. She spilled her story out onto the patio as Odette listened, as silent and receptive as a blank, unpressed vinyl. It was not a cure, it was not an answer to all of her problems but she did feel a little lighter for having offloaded some of her burden to someone prepared to take it. By the time the larks were twittering overhead, Circe suddenly realised that she knew how to roll her own cigarettes and Odette had stopped demonstrating to her long ago.

Severus was still awake when she made her way back to him and slid in between the bedsheets, bringing the scent of the early dawn with her. Her face was still wet and her eyes still red, but there was a calmness to her that he had not sensed from Circe in a long while. She folded herself into his embrace and let his warmth envelop her completely, feeling each ripple of delight flow through her with every kiss Severus placed on her neck. But before either of them could rouse themselves enough for anything more, they found that a moment of peace and tranquility had finally snuck up on them and they had both fallen asleep.