Chapter 52 - "And let the reason be love."
Circe took another sip of her wine. There was a distinct sourness to it and she couldn't hide her grimace. The drink had corked and she wondered how old the bottle was. She glanced up across the table, and unwittingly caught Peter Pettigrew's eye, sat in the seat opposite her. She sneered at him as he waved to her.
"The wine is not to your tastes?" He asked through his big bucked teeth. He lay a hand over the bottle on the table in front of him and as his long fingernails curled around the neck of the wine bottle, Circe could see the indent he'd made in the dust on its surface.
"I think it went bad quite some time ago…" she said coldly.
"Ahh, quite possibly. But I'm afraid the Pettigrew wine cellar was left rather untended during my years in hiding."
"Well… maybe get a bit of G and T in for next time..."
Severus kicked her from under the table and she glanced sideways to see him staring daggers at her. She rolled her eyes and resumed her demure, poised act, peering down into her lap and avoiding Pettigrew's verminous stare.
God this is a dismal birthday party. Bad booze, bad vibes and bad company…
Severus and Circe had been amongst the first of the Death Eaters to have made it to the conclave this time. They had been waiting for quite some time for the others to emerge, and Circe was finding it rather difficult to make conversation with Macnair or the Malfoys... There were a few new people that she didn't recognise and by the deep bow each one of the unfamiliar faces had given her upon her entrance, she assumed that they were other Death Eater escapees from Azkaban. Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber, Travers… Severus reeled their names off one by one as they bent low before her.
Their "master" had yet to present himself and Circe felt once again like she was waiting for a thunderstorm to start. The doors to the ballroom creaked open, almost making Circe jump out of her skin. Into the grand hall stepped The Lestranges, all four of them: Rodolphus, arm in arm with his wife Bellatrix, and Odette at the side of Rabastan. They were a dark, sinister bunch to look at; all of them were black of hair and as pale as alabaster. Circe's heart jumped into her mouth when she saw Odette again, but the real shock was how different Rabastan looked to the last time she'd seen him; his hair was now cut short, combed back into a neat side parting with a hint of grey tainting the hair at his temples. His eyes still bore that sunken and hollow feel to them, but his look was withering and harsh, the stubble on his chin gritty and coarse, the press of his pinstripe suit rigid and firm. Rodolphus, beside him, could have been his twin and in the dim light of the ballroom Circe could see some of the harsher, straighter features of Odette's twin boys in their father and uncle. Their high, noble brow, their scooped-out, thin cheeks, even a touch of something familiar in the confident way they held themselves up tall. Odette held on to her husband's arm tight and Circe noticed, stood side by side as they now were, how much older than Odette Rabastan was. Bellatrix, on the other hand, seemed to pay her husband no mind, charging forwards and calling out to the Malfoys.
"Cissy… saved me a seat, did you?"
The woman bounded over to the table and loudly scraped the legs of her chair over the marble floor as she withdrew it. Bellatrix took her seat in between Narcissa and Circe and sat down with a thump, making Circe recoil from her slightly.
Bellatrix turned to Circe, a broad, black-teethed grin spreading across her face.
"Oh it's you." She said derisively. "Made it off Azkaban island then?"
Circe wrinkled her nose at the woman. Her large, frizzy hair seemed to sprout out of her head like a wild troll-doll, almost concealing her whole face in a mass of tight coils, and Circe felt the distant tickle of it on her face.
"Yes. No thanks to you." Circe replied shortly.
"Severus!" Bellatrix shouted, leaning back and looking past Circe. "I'd say it was good to see you again, but that'd be a lie."
"Bellatrix. Always a pleasure." Severus replied coldly.
The other Leatranges took their seats at the table and Circe watched silently as Odette and her husband pulled up a chair beside Peter. Odette locked eyes with Circe for a brief second and the two women shared a moment of reconnection. The last time Circe had seen Odette, it had been "every man for himself", as Bellatrix had said, and Circe had thought that Odette had abandoned her to the wrath of the Dementors. But Odette had surprised her. Halting her own escape and that of her husband's to save her from a grim, soulless fate. There had been no time for a proper goodbye. Nothing by way of communication after her chaotic retreat back to Britain.
Circe nodded demurely to Odette. "Mrs Lestrange…"
"Mademoiselle Smith." Odette inclined her head back at her, giving her a brief flash of her crystal clear blue eyes before casting them back down to her lap.
"Gabriel and Raphael send their greetings." Rabastan added, leaning over his wife to address Circe.
"You met them." Circe breathed, a small flutter of pride rippling through her chest.
"I met my own sons after eleven years in Azkaban. Thanks to you… and my wife." Rabastan stated, laying a hand over Odette's.
"All in service of The Dark Lord." Circe replied coyly
"Ugh! All this soppy stuff.. When are we going to get down to action?!" Bellatrix chimed in, thumping her hand on the table. "I spent twelve years waiting for our Master's glorious return. Dreaming of the day that we would kill the blood traitors who put us in that prison. Dreaming of the day we would all be united together again to help build his world of purity and magical might! Not to sit around a dinner table, drinking Pettigrew's gone off wine, chit-chatting and catching up!"
"Bella, calm down…" Narcissa whispered beside her.
"How can you be calm, Cissy?" she screamed back at her sister. "We are on the brink of His glorious ascension to power! This is a celebration. And by the looks on all of your faces, looks like you're attending a wake...!"
"That may be, in part, thanks to our new allies…" A sinister hiss of a voice spoke from the shadows.
From out of the darkness stepped Voldemort, flanked by two billowing black Dementors. As one, the Death Eaters rose from their seats and dropped to a single knee before the Dark Lord, bowing their heads low. Voldemort cast a shrivelled and pale hand over them in a huge, sweeping gesture and Circe felt a shiver pass up her spine as his bony hand passed over her. Seeing him beforehand had not dimmed the sense of horror and dread she felt when she cast her eyes upon the Dark Lord; he was still hideous and skeletal, the mere sight of him emanating a sense of dread and terror and her wildly beating heart still thrashed about inside her whenever he cast his yellow, reptilian eyes upon her.
"Sit, my disciples." Voldemort uttered in his thin, ethereal voice.
As one, the Death Eaters rose from bended knee and moved to take their seats but before Circe could sit down, she felt her wand within her pocket moving of its own accord... She delved a hand inside her skirts and frowned deeply as she withdrew her magical instrument. The oval necklace, sat on the skin just above her breasts, also seemed to twitch and move too and Circe gasped as she felt the icy, cold stare of the Dementors at Voldemort's side focus on her. Without warning or prompt, a sudden burst of silvery white light spewed forth from Circe's wand, and she struggled to hold on to it with the force of the magic that spilled from it. Her necklace hummed and glowed against her skin with that same silvery light and before she knew it, her patronus formed in front of her. The Arctic Fox sat at her side and growled at the Dementors with more bravery and courage than Circe felt, and to her amazement they shrank back from it. The Dementors lowered themselves slowly onto the floor and bent their hooded heads low, until they touched the marble, looking now like two identical puddles of black robes. Circe watched in amazement, mouth open. And so was everyone else at the table…
"Praetor of the Dementors." Voldemort stated, gesturing to Circe with his long, thin fingers. "Your soldiers bow before you."
"A patronus…" Bellatrix whispered. "But-"
"Indeed, Bellatrix. Most of my disciples find it rather difficult to conjure this charm, so I thought it would be befitting to gift Mistress Smith with the necklace of magnification."
Circe touched a hand to the necklace at her throat, running a thumb over the impression of the wings and scythe embedded in the black oval.
"The necklace…" Voldemort continued. "Will enable the wearer to produce a patronus charm when confronted with the Dementors, without having to consciously cast the spell. Even if they have been unable to produce a patronus before."
Most Death Eaters can't conjure a patronus? Circe thought, eyeing up Odette from across the table. Then how did Odette do it? She remembered the beautiful silver swan that had saved her from the Dementor's kiss as they had fled Azkaban. The flutter of those white wings snapping and biting at the black demons. Perhaps that's why Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters had been so keen to get off of Azkaban island as fast as they could; they knew that they couldn't protect themselves from the Dementors if needed. It really had been every man for himself after the alarm was raised...
Circe could feel the steely gaze of every single Death Eater on her. She looked from face to face, noting the varying looks of admiration and outright jealousy in each one. But if their envy had tainted their skin, the greenest of all would have been Bellatrix. She looked from Circe to the Dark Lord, a sour look beneath her mass of wild hair.
"Now, on to business." Voldemort stated, lowering himself into the high-backed throne at the head of the table. Circe also reluctantly took her seat, her Arctic Fox curling up into a sleeping ball at her feet, remaining steadfastly at her side.
"As always, Bellatrix, your lust for action and your dedication to the cause warms me. But I'm afraid we need to think carefully about how to proceed from hereon in rather than charging into the fray with abandon."
Bellatrix seemed to shrivel in her seat, slumping down in her chair at the rather pointed words Voldemort had used in reference to her outburst at the table.
"The wizarding world is largely unaware of my return, and, currently, that is an advantage." Voldemort continued. "And I wish to keep it that way. For now. Dumbledore wishes to out me. Force me to reveal myself to the public and then the Minister will have no more excuses, no more means of denial."
"The Minister was fully aware of our motives during the last war…" Bellatrix muttered. "And even then they could do little to stop you, Lord."
Voldemort raised his wand with a lightning fast move of his wrist. With a whip-crack of a sound, a large welt appeared across Bellatrix's face and she let out a startled cry.
"Silence, Lestrange!" The Dark Lord hissed. "I was at the height of my power on this very day fourteen years ago, the wizarding world falling at my feet, my glorious ascension seemed certain! And we still failed! Brought to heel by a baby and his petulant mother…"
Circe felt Severus stiffen beside her. She glanced over at his face and saw his rigid composure, outwardly unbothered by the words of Voldemort, but Circe might have been the only person in the room that could read him well enough to notice the tension in his jaw, the tightly balled fists on his thighs, the glint of pure sorrow in his eye, and she knew he was reliving the night Voldemort referred to also… The night Lily Potter died. The night Harry received his lightning scar. The night Voldemort was defeated by a baby. The night he found her dead.
Bellatrix reeled from her blow and touched a shaking hand to her cheek.
"If we truly wish to learn from the past,..." Voldemort continued. ".. then, my disciples, we must closely examine what can be done differently this time. What information did I not have all those years ago that I could acquire now?"
"Information, Lord?" Lucius Malfoy asked curiously.
"Indeed, Lucius. A prophecy..." Voldemort replied coolly. ""The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"
The Prophecy… Circe thought grimly, casting another nervous glance back at Severus. This time, Severus briefly flicked his eyes back to her in return.
"My Lord…" Lucius breathed, his eyes wide. "Those who thrice denied you… They were-"
"At the time, I believed it to be either the Potters or the Longbottoms. They all denied me and refused to join our ranks on three separate occasions. I should not have let them live to tell of their defiance… But they both too bore a son at the end of July."
"But… why did you choose to pursue The Potters then?" Circe asked suddenly.
"The Potter child is of a similar lineage to myself…" Voldemort replied enigmatically. "I believed he to be the more likely candidate than the Longbottom boy."
Severus hoped Voldemort would choose to pursue The Longbottoms. Circe suddenly realised, feeling the eyes of Snape on her, watching her reactions closely. Oh good god, that's why you're so awful to Neville. Circe frowned back at Severus. She wanted to slap him. If the Dark Lord had decided to pursue the Longbottoms that night, then Lily would never have died.…You punish that poor kid and pick on him because you blame him.
"But, I believe there to be more to The Prophecy than what was originally relayed to me." Voldemort continued.
Oh God.. Circe thought grimly, closing her eyes. "More, Severus?" she asked in a hushed whisper, leaning in close to him, her exasperation evident in her tone.
"I'm afraid I was… interrupted in my observations by the owner of the Hog's Head." he muttered back.
"You were thrown out on your backside by Abeforth Dumbledore, from what I heard." Bellatrix chimed in with a sneer.
I… wh-Who?! Circe reeled internally, struggling to hide her look of shock on her face.
"Have I mentioned already what a joy it is to have you back in our midst, Bella?" Severus replied, his voice dripping with ice-cold sarcasm.
"You failed the Dark Lord that night, Snape! By allowing yourself to be discovered by that goat-fucker!"
Circe smirked to herself. If she hadn't already been planning to research this other Dumbledore, then she certainly was now…
"Bellatrix!" The Dark Lord boomed. The wild-haired woman flinched and shrank back into her chair once again like a beaten dog. "There is a way in which we can access the full Prophecy foretold on that night. A way that you and your family can prove your loyalties to me once more…"
Circe stiffened in alarm, thinking the Dark Lord was referring to the Lestranges. Hadn't she and Odette already done enough in service of Him? The two of them had already risked so much in order to bring Rodolphus and Rabastan home, as well as the other Death Eaters present that night. Circe had almost died in service of fulfilling that task, her well-covered, scarred arm beside her was proof of that. What now was he demanding? Voldemort waved his skeletal hand across the table and Circe watched with her breath held in her lungs for him to identify those he had chosen for his next task. And finally, it came to rest in front of The Malfoys.
"Cissy!" Bellatrix shouted, pure elation on her face.
But on the faces of Narcissa and Lucius, all Circe could see, as they looked around at the somber and solemn faces of the other Death Eaters gathered at that table, was abject terror.
"Severus, wouldn't it be much quicker and easier to send an owl to each Order member rather than calling a meeting at Grimmauld Place?" Circe grumbled as he pulled her up the steps to the Holloway Road underground station.
"I've sent the summons already. Most everyone will be there by now and waiting for us. I really must look into crafting a potion that eradicates your nausea from apparating…"
"When did you do that?"
"Wh...As you were giving our excuses to the host… I slipped outside and-"
"Well, can just one of us relay what Voldemort said tonight?" Circe said rather shortly. "I want to go home… I want to go back to Hogwarts and live out the remains of this bloody awful Birthday before any more bad things can happen..."
"Dumbledore may wish to implement a new rota of guarding the Department of Mysteries. And that information you will, no doubt, will want to be party to."
Circe sighed and reluctantly let Severus drag her through the streets of Islington.
By the time they arrived at the door of Grimmauld Place, Circe was feeling tired and emotionally drained. The weight of Severus's revelations still sat heavy on her heart and what she had learned tonight troubled her. She had known for quite some time that Severus had been a Death Eater, that he had at one point earnestly followed Voldemort and served him as a true disciple, and she had always partly expected that a few unsavory revelations about his past would eventually resurface. Severus had fully expected her to scream, shout, cry and call him all the names under the sun when he had told her that it was he who told Voldemort of The Prophecy. But to him, it had seemed like she had just quietly accepted it. As if she had known all along of his shame and guilt. But Circe had known all along who Severus was… who Severus had been. And she also knew that every step his wasted heart took on this earth was a step taken with deep regret and remorse.
Nevertheless it had taken her some time and thought in the days after he had spoken to her in the Room of Requirement to fully process what he had told her. Had it not been for their upcoming conclave, Severus would have given her time to properly digest what he had admitted to. But every time he laid eyes upon her, at the Staff meetings in the morning, in the Great Hall for supper, even during their occlumency lessons, he wanted to break down into tears and fall at her feet, relaying just how sorry he was. But there were no words that Severus could say to her that would truly reflect the depths of his penitence. The real remorse came whenever Circe looked into his eyes and saw the hurt he inflicted upon himself still to this day. Circe knew that the mistake Severus had made still haunted him and would continue to haunt him until the end of his life. Severus had damn near given up on himself because of his past mistakes, she would be damned if she was going to give up on him too...
Yet Severus had been resigned and mournful in the days before Hallowe'en, as if he were expecting bad news any second. He yearned to hear her thoughts and yet feared what she might say. It pained Circe to realise that he was expecting her to leave, when the exact opposite was true. Her love for him had deepened. She had never truly known how strong her heart was until it had been faced with this. For the first time in their relationship, Circe was the one who was unafraid and Severus the one frightened and lost. But they had barely had a spare moment in the day during the lead up to Hallowe'en and the issue had sat like a chasm between them. Like a splinter in the eye. There were things that needed to be said, things that Severus needed to hear, that neither of them wanted to initiate in the tense and anxious run up to the conclave. But now it was over again, and they were in the clear once more, Circe took the initiative.
As she looked to Severus, stood by her side on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place, she saw the same look of deep sorrow plastered in his face as he kept his eyes down, away from her.
"Severus…" she said steadily. He paused for a moment but then met her searching green eyes with a look of utter sadness. "If you're looking for forgiveness from me... Then, as much as it's my place to give it… you know I do, don't you."
Severus looked as if he might start weeping at any moment. He closed his eyes and felt his chest constrict with pain.
"... But I think before that, you need to forgive yourself, Sev."
Severus felt a hammer-like blow reign down upon his heart from the words Circe had just said. She might as well have asked him to fly to the moon and back. He choked back the lump that had formed in his throat.
"I can't…" he uttered hoarsely. "I can't do that."
"You made a mistake, Severus. A stupid, awful, terrible mistake, but one that I know you've learnt from. You are the person you are today because of that mistake, and that is a good person."
"People died because of my "mistake", Circe. Even if I do as you've said, it won't bring them back. It won't right the wrongs."
"No, but there's no sense in punishing your future for the decisions of the past."
Severus scoffed. "I wonder if Harry would say that to me. Or Remus. Or Sirius. If they all knew what I'd done. That I was the one who painted the target on Lily's back. And you… I don't want you to love me because you pity me. Because you see me as some crippled, broken, guilt-ridden charity case."
"I love you because I love you." Circe responded. "I loved you long before you told me this and I'll love you when you do eventually choose to forgive yourself."
"And do you not think that's ridiculous!?" He asked, his mind reeling with the steadfastness of her words, his heart pained with the surety of her love. "To love someone so completely and utterly that you are willing to overlook something as monstrous as that?"
Circe took his trembling hand in her own, pressing it to her lips as hot tears of sorrow began to roll down his cheeks. "I am not afraid of ridicule."
The door to Grimmauld Place creaked open and Circe was forced to drop Severus's hand. A small, leathery face peered around the small crack and sneered at them.
"Hello Kreacher." Circe said to the old House-elf.
Kreacher responded with a grumble under his breath and opened the door wide to them. "Are the others here yet?"
"The pink-haired, shapeshifting one instructed Kreacher to tell you that there's no one here yet, but they all are. Hiding upstairs." The House-elf muttered miserably.
"Kreacher…" Severus said hurriedly as they followed the elf into the corridor.
"Half-bloods and blood traitors giving orders in my Mistress's house… It would make my poor Mistress turn in her grave." Kreacher grumbled, casting an eye up to a covered portrait that hung on the wall nearby. Circe frowned in puzzlement, wondering why Tonks was hiding upstairs from her and why Severus suddenly seemed so riled...
"Kreacher, shut up-" Severus spat, trying to push past Circe and grab at the House-Elf. But he was not fast enough and Kreacher dodged out of his hands.
"And the other busy-body woman, making cakes in my Mistress's kitchen and her ugly orange spawn hammering banners into the walls…"
Circe stopped dead and turned to Snape at her back. When she saw Severus's face, he had the sheepish, embarrassed look of a teenage boy caught with a Playboy under his bed.
"If what I think is happening is in fact happening here… it better not be." She stated icily.
"It wasn't my idea. Tonks made me swear not to tell-"
"I told you I didn't want any parties or surprises, Sev!"
"Like I said, I had very little say in the matter. I was just instructed to bring you here after our mission was completed."
"Oh for goodness sake. That's why I wasn't allowed to go back to Hogwarts after the gathering?"
"And you would have been none the wiser, had it not been for Victor Meldrew here." Snape muttered quietly as he pointed sharply at Kreacher.
Circe sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
So they're all waiting upstairs are they? To give me a surprise party...
She'd thought that amongst her colleagues and friends that it would only be Severus who knew that she was turning thirty. In all honesty, she had wanted to hide the fact and bury it away. Most witches were already a few children deep into their marriages by the time they turned thirty, and whilst Circe was not feeling particularly broody, thirty was still an age where people started asking about your "plans for the future" and if it really came down to it, Circe didn't know what her future held. But, of course, Tonks would have known she was turning thirty too just by doing some simple mathematics based on how long they'd both been out of school. She cast a pained, anxious glance up the stairs to the living room of Grimmauld Place, presumably where everyone lay in wait. In a way, it was better that Kreacher had spoilt the surprise for her; that way she had time to mentally prepare herself for the sweat-inducing embarrassment a round of "Happy Birthday" would give her.
"Alright… okay." She sighed again, beginning the climb up the stairs. "At least this'll be good practise for my acting skills."
Severus followed her compliantly as she climbed the stairs and when they reached the door to the living room, she turned to him a final time to shoot him a look of resigned exasperation. She shook her head at him slowly before reaching out for the handle and pushing the door open.
The room was dark, and for a second Circe thought Kreacher had been winding her up. But then the lights flicked on in a flash and from behind the various bits of furniture and hiding spots suddenly emerged the members of The Order.
"SURPRISE!" they all shouted, the Weasley twins setting off a few modest fireworks with a bang, making Circe flinch back. As her eyes darted quickly around the room, she saw all who had gathered to celebrate her birthday: Lupin with his kind and gentle smile, Tonks standing at his side, Sirius leaning against the drinks cabinet with each hand holding a champagne flute already, Arthur Weasley desperately trying to catch the flying fireworks his sons had set off whilst telling them off for the noise they made, and there were even a few of her students dotted around the place, including Harry, Ron and Hermione. Molly held her cake firmly before her, a fizzing sparkler embedded in the top and Circe suddenly got an overwhelming sense of deja vu when she spied Remus's smiling face amongst the gathered partygoers and she was reminded of a very similar party on this very night a few years back...
Him and Tonks are more like-minded than he thinks… Circe thought.
"Oh my goodness…! What's all this?" she laughed awkwardly, feigning complete surprise as she looked around at the grinning faces of everyone gathered.
"Happy Dirty-Thirty, Cee!" Tonks hollered, swinging an arm around her neck and pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Ugh, it doesn't sound any better said out loud..." Circe mumbled.
"How does it feel to be an old woman?" Tonks asked with a giggle, turning her hair grey and wiry before them all.
"Oi!" Molly interjected.
"If thirty is old, then what about the dreaded thirty-six?" Remus asked dryly.
"Ah, well you're lucky I like older men." Tonks shot back with a wink. Remus blushed fiercely and over at the back of the room Circe saw Sirius stir.
"Ginny, what happened to that music?" Molly asked, slicing through the tension of the room.
"Oh, sorry Mum…" Ginny replied, poised by a large device placed in the corner of the room that Circe recognised well.
Another Cantuscope… Circe realised, watching as Ginny leaned into the cone and spoke her request to the machine. This Cantuscope seemed in much better nick and a little better behaved than Circe's; The machine didn't make as much whirring and clunking noises as it prepared the song choice Ginny had asked for and when the display at its front revealed 'The Sun', Circe noted that the pictures seemed brighter and cleaner. The Weasley girl had obviously chosen something upbeat and popy and soon the room was filled with synthetic drums and clean-cut boyband voices.
"Ahh it's a pity we don't have our records here, Remus." Sirius said to his old friend. "There's just something more tangible, more visceral about holding a vinyl in your hands and placing it on the turnstile yourself compared to breathing down the Cantuscope cone."
"I think that would have been a step too far for poor Kreacher." Remus chuckled.
"Oh yes, dear old Mumsy always hated my "muggle monstrosities". Threatened to bash them all to pieces if she so much as heard me taking one out of the sleeve."
Circe grimaced as she remembered poor Remus's collection of records, all smashed to bits by Umbridge. The collection he had painstakingly put together with Sirius over their precious years of youth. She dreaded the day when Remus would ask her what happened to them and she'd have to confess that she'd not saved them from destruction. But right now, she didn't have the heart to tell him. She couldn't quite muster the courage to let him know that all those precious memories of youthful rebellion and defiance were gone.
A pop from a bottle of champagne made Circe flinch, but she soon broke into a wide smile when Sirius came striding towards her offering the frothing bottle out to her.
"If you remember your thirtieth, you're not doing it right." He said to Circe with a wink. "Cheers."
Circe took a sip from the neck of the bottle and relished in the fizzing crispness of the champagne on her tongue. "I couldn't believe Dumbledore sent you out on a mission with Snivellus on your Birthday, of all days! That would be dire on a normal day…"
"Well actually…" Circe began, turning around to look for Severus in the midst of the party. Yet, she found that he was gone. "Oh."
"He scurried off to find Dumbledore, probably. To tell him all about what he's managed to root out with that big nose of his." Sirius said with a rather dramatic flair.
Circe was at a loss for words, unsure of what she should say. She felt a little angered by Sirius's words and the absolutely childish way he still spoke about Severus but felt it probably best if she bit her tongue for the time being and had another sip of champagne. Fred and George had begun moving a few of the chaise lounges and sofas in the room about, clearing a space in the middle of the room where Hermoine and Ginny were dancing away to the music with one another. It was a small comfort to watch the young ones emanate such joy and happiness in these dark times. How quickly their mood could brighten. How easily laughter and felicity came to them and Circe envied their young, naive happiness a little. Circe still felt tired and emotionally hollowed, too many things on her mind that stopped her from relaxing into the party. But she took another determined swig of her champagne as Tonks led her to the impromptu dancefloor that had been created and began spinning her around, laughing together as they turned about.
As the party wore on, Circe had cut her cake and polished off a fair few of Sirius's champagne stores, all of which had helped to pull her out of her emotional slump somewhat. Everyone had managed to get up and have a bit of a dance, including quiet, shy Remus and too-cool-for-school Sirius, all helped along, of course, by the steady flow of booze and laughter at the party. It was a modest little affair, but one that warmed Circe's heart with the genuine heartfelt love behind it. Her initial revulsion and apprehension of discovering her surprise party faded away into a sincere feeling of gratefulness. Moments like this were becoming increasingly few and far between. Circe knew that she would treasure forever the memory of the small party she had had for her thirtieth birthday, in the midst of the second wizarding war, in the living room of Grimmauld Place…
Yet, perhaps the DJ could have been better...
Hermione and Ginny had been queueing up song after song by seemingly endless boybands and girl groups, all of which sounded quite familiar to the last one, distinguishable only by the small squeals of delight the girls would make when a song from their "favorites" came on. Harry and Ron were trying not to tap their foot along to the tunes but the twins were dancing along with gay abandon. Each new tune Circe acknowledged with an eye-roll and a small laugh.
"Our taste in music was never this bad, was it Tonks?" Circe asked as she sat down next to her old friend on one of the old green plush sofas.
"Are you telling me… you're not a fan of Take That, Circe?" Tonks said with a smirk as she topped up both of their flutes.
"Not my favourites…" she mumbled. "It's all a bit manufactured for me."
"All music's manufactured, Cee."
"Nah I know… but we weren't inundated with boybands in the eighties, when you and me grew up, like these kids are now. All these floppy-haired, chiseled-chinned, corporately owned men who can't sing without help from a computer…"
"You… are a music snob, Cee." Tonks said accusationally, a broad smile on her face.
Circe laughed. "Oh am I, Nymphadora?! Sirius, Sirius..." she called out, beckoning Black over to her and Tonks. "You'll get what I'm trying to say. Pop music is rubbish isn't it." Circe prompted, pointing at The Cantuscope where Hermione and Ginny still bopped around to the upbeat drums of Boyzone's 'Picture of You'.
"It's called 'popular music' for a reason, Circe." Sirius replied with a coy smile. "Nothing wrong with liking what many other people enjoy too."
Circe waved to Remus exasperatedly. "Remus! Come here and back me up!" she hollered.
Remus likes jazz for pete's sake. He'll be on my side.
Remus shuffled over to them and Circe made room beside her on the sofa for Lupin to nestle in next to her and Tonks. "Remus, pop music: mainstream, unoriginal, repetitive. You agree, yes?"
"Well.." Remus began. Circe scoffed and flopped back in her seat with a moan. Tonks and Sirius both laughed at her show of frustration. Remus continued after their laughter had died down. "To each his own, right? That's the stance I take. In my opinion, those who consider liking pop music to be a bad thing...they are simply trying way too hard to be cooler than you...holier than thou if you will...and that to me, is far worse than admitting that you like something that brings you joy."
"Alright fine… I guess I'm a music snob then." she chuckled. "But you can't deny that this kind of stuff has been designed by a marketing team to cash in on young girls going through puberty and experiencing a desperate need to feel loved."
"And I would counter that, Birthday girl, by asking you this: why is it that in our society, nothing gets the same level of hate than something that has been designed for, or appeals more to young or teenage girls?" Tonks chimed in with a raised eyebrow. "We've seen more than our fair share of bad action films geared toward men or 13-year-old boys. And you know, the reviews are like 'OKay that was shit, but a fun ride.' But no one says 'Oh my god. If you like this film you're a complete fucking idiot' like they do with The Backstreet Boys or Boyz II Men songs."
"Huh…" Circe said, a little stunned. "Touché, Nymphadora."
"And Don't. Call. Me. Nymphodora just because I won the debate!" Tonks said through gritted teeth, giving Circe a playful punch on the arm as she spoke.
"Alright, fine." Circe chuckled, rubbing her arm. "But you mark my words, the nineties will be known as 'the era of the boyband'. I'm just glad I grew up with The Rolling Stones and not Robbie Williams."
"This isn't a new thing, Circe. You could probably argue that The Beatles were a boyband, or The Jackson Five, or oh… who was it that Lily liked back in the seventies?" Remus asked Sirius. "Those Mormon blokes..."
"Oh, you mean The Osmonds." Sirius replied as a nostalgic smile touched his lips. "I remember when she came back to Hogwarts after Christmas in Third Year, she wouldn't leave me alone until I'd let her play 'Puppy Love' on our record player. I told her to bugger off to begin with, until James gave me a thumping and told me he'd jinx the needle into jelly until I let her play it..."
The two Marauders laughed, the ghost of the memory touching both of their eyes with a far-off glaze. "How has she been dead for almost fifteen years. Sirius?" Remus asked, sadness tainting his voice. "Prongs too."
They all fell into an introspective silence, until the Cantuscope played the next song the girls had chosen. Remus snapped his head up and cocked his head to the side as he listened.
"I don't believe it…" he muttered with a grin. "Sirius, listen…"
"Ginny, what's this one?" Tonks asked the Weasley girl, noticing the excitement in Remus's eyes. Circe was at a loss for why everyone suddenly seemed more animated. It was a slow, chugging song with those same synthetic drums and harmonised 'ooh's' that had been in most of the songs that had come before.
"Love Me For a Reason." She replied with a bright smile. "Boyzone."
"This isn't a Boyzone song, this was originally The Osmonds!" Remus said, rising to his feet.
"Girl, when you hold me
How you control me
You bend and you fold me
Any way you please."
"Oh good Lord, do you remember when we walked in on James and Lily slow dancing to this in the common room...?" Sirius chuckled heartily.
"Ha! I do. I remember the ribbing you gave him after for being a "lovestruck sap"."
"Well he was! No self-respecting bloke would be caught dead listening to The Osmonds!"
"You know, Tonks, I think Mister Black just proved the point you were making..." Circe said as she leant over to her friend with a knowing wink.
"Well I don't see you getting up to dance…" Sirius said coyly, casting Circe a hungry look. She was suddenly reminded of the rather awkward situation she had created last time The Order had met and the rather strange way both Severus and Remus had reacted to Sirius's responses to her. "If you were in the mood for a sway, then it's Birthday Girl's choice." He added, gesturing to both himself and Remus beside her.
Ahh fuck. Now if I choose Remus, I'll piss off Tonks and if I choose Sirius I'll piss off Remus… Circe thought as several emotionally laden glances passed between them all. Circe had been inclined to ignore the rather doting and interesting way Sirius had been behaving towards her, perhaps even choosing to believe that Severus had just been imagining what happened at the table in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. But now, from the look I'm his eye, it was undeniable: he was flirting with her. Flirting with her to make Remus jealous, too…
God, what a fucking mess…
"Chicks before dicks, fellas." Circe said as a way to evade the choice came to her, shooting a cheeky wink at Sirius and Remus both. She pushed past Black's outstretched hand and pulled Tonks to her feet. Her old friend chuckled as she was dragged to the dance space by Circe and pulled into a gentle sway.
"Well, Moony… I won't be outdone in my own house." Sirius laughed heartily, striding over to Remus and pulling him too into a slow dance.
"And I never know, girl
If I should stay or go
'Cause the games that you play
Keep driving me away."
Hand in hand, the two dancing couples sang along to the old, familiar tune, flushed with champagne and slight embarrassment.
"Sirius…" muttered Remus awkwardly.
"Give us a spin, Moony." said Sirius, twirling Remus around in his hands before he could protest and eliciting a giggle of mirth from Harry and Ron watching the spectacle.
Circe and Tonks laughed along too as they swayed from side to side, Tonks's hands stiffly on Circe's shoulders and Circe's on Tonks's hips, dancing in the way an awkward Middle school couple might dance. Fred and George joined the slow dance, hands clasped together in a comical waltz.
"Come on, Weasley, Potter..." Circe called out to Ron and Harry. "There's two ladies here that need partners." She said teasingly, gesturing to Hermione and Ginny.
"I can't dance with my own sister!" Ron said aghast.
"No, Ron… I think Professor Smith means… Never mind." Potter sighed, exasperatedly and strode over to take Ginny's hand.
"Oh… right." Ron mumbled, finally joining the sway after sheepishly approaching a fiercely blushing Hermione.
"Don't love me for fun, girl
Let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason
Let the reason be love."
Circe managed to slip out of the dancing throng unnoticed and into the corridor outside the party room. It was darker, damper, quieter than in the living room where the music and the singing was loud and the mood was bright and loving. She knew a lot of the house hadn't been cleared of nasty magical vermin like boggarts and ghouls, so she kept herself alert as she peered into the gloom. As she searched for Severus, she found herself moving further and further away from the party and deeper into the house, until the music was faded and quiet to her ears. After stumbling around in the dark, steadying herself against the walls of peeling wallpaper and tiptoeing down creaking floorboards, she eventually heard the quiet and steady voice of Dumbledore from behind a shut door.
"We cannot allow Voldemort to find the rest of The Prophecy, Severus." Came the old Headmaster's voice from within the room. Circe listened closely.
"Is there something that we should know, Headmaster?" Replied Snape in his rich drawl. "Something you're not telling us?"
The Headmaster sighed, and Circe heard his agitated footsteps pacing around inside. "Perhaps it is time… to tell you of what I have suspected about the boy for a while."
Circe shifted on her feet and a loud creak echoed off the halls of Grimmauld Place.
"Fuck…" she mumbled.
The door of the room swung open and Circe stared back at Dumbledore and Severus, stood around a study desk full of papers and maps.
"Ahh, Circe. Enjoying your birthday?" Dumbledore asked.
"I… um… came to find Severus." She replied, feeling her face flush red.
"Of course. You will no doubt be wanting to share in each other's company on this special day."
Dumbledore swept from the room without so much as a backwards glance at Severus or Circe. "Many happy returns, Professor Smith."
When he had left, Circe looked back to Severus with an apologetic look on her face.
"Sorry… that sounded important."
"It probably was. But if it has waited for over fourteen years, then it can wait one night longer." Severus replied dismissively.
"How did he react to the news that Voldemort's after The Prophecy?"
"As you'd expect. Bill Weasley and Kingsley have been placed on watch in the Ministry tonight, and we have since laid plans to keep it protected by an Order member on twenty-four hour surveillance."
"You and I won't be able to participate in that." Circe sighed as a weary look passed over her face and moving inside the room to Severus's side. "That would out us as Dumbledore's spies to any of Voldemort's disciples who may come looking for it. Especially if Malfoy's been tasked with finding the damn thing. He'd seize on the opportunity to go running back to The Dark Lord so he could bask in the rewards of decrying us as "traitors". Him or his delightful sister-in-law."
"Indeed. The other Order members may find it odd that we both are not included on the rota to guard The Prophecy, but Dumbledore will tell them some excuse… You and I must continue our precarious dance behind the scenes."
Circe took his hand as she had done earlier that night on the steps of Grimmauld Place and looked deeply into his dark eyes. The action instantly recalled to both of them what they had spoken of before the surprises of the evening had overtaken them, and now finally, they had a moment alone once more. Circe didn't have to say anything to tell Severus what she was thinking about; her face, her eyes said it all. She was imploring him to show kindness to himself. To make him realise that his poor soul deserved to know peace…
"You know… forgiveness is something that has never come easy to me." Severus said rather suddenly, in almost a whisper. "I bear a grudge like a badge of honour. I let them bend and warp and fold me into the embittered thing I am today. With James, with Sirius, with my father... And yet somehow, forgiving myself seems like a larger, harder, more impossible task than forgiving any of them."
"Severus-" Circe sighed.
"But I cannot deny you anything. Especially when you say "please"." He interrupted her, smiling at their own little in-joke.
"Then you must please try to forgive yourself." Circe uttered as she cupped his face in her hands.
"I… I will try. For you, I will try." He whispered.
Circe took him into a tight embrace, pressing her cheek into his shoulder, feeling the beating of his heart against hers. In the silence that followed, all they could hear was the far-off noise of the Boyzone song from the party down the hall.
"Don't love me for fun, girl
Let me be the one, girl
Love me for a reason
Let the reason be love."
Severus slipped one set of fingers around Circe's waist and with his other palm he gently took her hand in his, raising it up to shoulder height. It took her a brief moment to realise he wanted to dance with her, like the others in the living room down the hallway were... She buried her head deeper into his shoulder, before her tears of deep love could be seen and he too leant into her soft neck, breathing deeply to drink her in. The music drifted through the walls of the house to them and Severus and Circe began gently swaying to the rhythm in each other's arms. Rocking slowly to the beat of the music, alone in the crumbling remains of Sirius's study, hiding from the party raging in the other room, but totally and utterly lost in one another. And like that, for what seemed like a blissful forever, they danced together.
After the children had been sent to bed by Molly, the adults remained in the party room, drinking, chatting and laughing with one another into the early hours of the morning. They gathered around the Cantuscope together, talking of days gone by as they lounged about on the old, faded, green sofas and putting on songs of their own youths as they drank to the good memories of the past.
"To James and Lily…" Remus stated, raising his glass. Tonks was sat beside him with her legs draped over his lap, seemingly unaware of the dagger-esque looks Sirius was shooting her. "On the anniversary of their deaths, may they be remembered for the love in their lives. Cheers."
"Cheers..." Circe said, raising her glass in her own armchair.
"Cheers." Sirius also chimed in, lying recumbent on his chaise-lounge.
As they drank, Remus rested his spare hand seemingly absent-mindedly on top of Tonks's leg. Circe could practically feel the heat of Sirius's gaze turn towards her, looking for his own emotional points to score.
Circe tried to avoid Sirius's searching eyes, wishing that Severus was around to see just how little she encouraged Sirius's advances. But alas no, he had returned to Hogwarts after their little dance alone in the study. It seemed he could just about bring himself to be sociable with Remus, but drinking with Sirius was a firm no. Still too much bad blood between them. So he'd asked to be excused whilst Circe stuck around for the dying hours of her thirtieth birthday.
"So Circe, these young ones today have Gary Barlow and Ronan Keating. Who did you get the stomach flutters for back in your younger days?" Sirius asked her, his eyebrow raised wickedly.
"Oh... um I can't really remember."
"Yes you can!" Tonks butt in raucously, pointing at Circe accusatorily and sending her glass of champagne spilling over Remus. "Oh wait, my turn to put something on."
Tonks leapt off the sofa and bent her head into the Cantuscope's cone. "Adam Ant." she spoke clearly, a large grin blooming across her face.
"Oh yeah…" Circe muttered, unable to keep herself from smiling as her memory flooded with hussar jackets and thick black eyeliner.
"Who?" Sirius asked, his curiosity piqued. "I'm afraid I was… indisposed for much of the eighties."
"He was this new-romantic singer-" Tonks began.
"With the white stripe across the face?" Remus asked, a memory stirring.
"Yes, that's him. Staring down from the dormitory walls of every girl at Hogwarts in the eighties, he was! There wasn't a lesson changeover without someone hollering "Ahhh-huh Ayrr-huh!" down the corridors!"
"And he was delicious." Circe giggled, giving a chef's kiss to the air.
The Cantuscope buzzed into life and silence fell amongst the adults as the strummed out opening chord of 'Prince Charming' sounded out. And then the wailing started…
"Goodness, why are they screaming?!" Sirius asked, shrinking back, away from the Cantuscope with alarm.
"It's the feral cry of potent sexual allure, Black!" Circe shouted above the noise.
Sirius scoffed and chuckled at her response, the wolfish look in his eyes growing. "Bloody hell, it sounds like the noise Mother's portrait downstairs makes when she's been disturbed…"
The thick, chunky guitar riff joined the shrieking voices and Circe was suddenly of a mind to dance again. She met Tonks's eyes and the two of them instantly knew what needed to be done. As a duo they climbed onto the sofa, holding on to each other for balance in their tipsy state, and when the steady, rocking rhythm kicked in, they stamped their feet down on the cushions in unison, adapting a strong stance similar to a battle position. Crying out the words together:
"Don't you ever, don't you ever
Stop being dandy, showing me you're handsome!
Don't you ever, don't you ever
Stop being dandy, showing me you're handsome!""
"What are you doing with your hands?" Sirius asked through breathless laughs.
"This is what you did, this is the Prince Charming dance!" Tonks explained, locking her wrists in a cross over her head once again in demonstration.
"Wait, Sirius… Do you still have that old Napoleonic-style coat that you used to wear? The one you had on at James and Lily's wedding?" asked Remus, his face brightening.
"Oh, in the cupboard in the wardrobe nextdoor…"
Remus jumped out of his seat with a show of animated excitement and went running out of the living room, off in his mission.
"Prince Charming, Prince Charming
Ridicule is nothing to be scared of!"
Remus re-emerged a few seconds later with a gloriorious military-style, gold and black jacket that he threw around his shoulder and spread his arms wide. Circe and Tonks both squealed in delight and broke out into raucous laughter.
"Here, Padfoot!" he called out to Sirius, flinging a tube of toothpaste at him. "Straight across your face." he instructed, telling Sirius where to place the white line by showing him on his own face.
Sirius grinned broadly and squirted the toothpaste onto his finger. In the foray of singing and dancing about he locked eyes with Circe and she was almost bowled over with the downright sinful glint in his eyes. His gaze was unwavering as he spread his fingers over the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. Circe had to look away with bashfulness, noting that Tonks had managed to drag Remus into the dance space, showing him how to do the Prince Charming moves. When she looked back, Sirius was closer to her.
"I was denied a dance before, Circe." he purred in her ear. "Will you oblige me now?"
"Sirius… I -"
But before she could answer, Sirius had begun blinking fiercely and staggering back from her.
"Ahh.. God the mint.. ow...Ow!"
"You okay, Padfoot?"
"The mint… in my eyes. It burns!" Sirius stumbled around, rubbing at his eyes.
Circe burst out into laughter, watching as he staggered around the room, smudging the white line he'd made all over his face as he rubbed.
"Stop touching your face! You're spreading it around!" Remus uttered out through strong, belly-aching laughs too.
Sirius desperately grabbed at a discarded bottle of champagne on the floor nearby and unceremoniously poured the liquid all over his face to wash away the toothpaste. Circe and Tonks both collapsed into leg-shaking convulsions, rolling about on the sofa together as they tried to suck in air into their howling lungs.
Circe wiped her eyes, clearing away the tears of mirth and thought rather contentedly:
Well, this birthday got a whole lot better after all...