AN: A very important real world event that you can't have a story based in Britain in the 90's without referencing...All of the songs mentioned in this chapter are all songs a member of my family want or have had at their funeral. My Mum wants Careless Whisper...
Chapter 92 - "Your candle's burned out long before your legend ever will."
Circe awoke in her bed with a start. She'd dreamt again of plummeting into a large and cold body of water at great speed. A young man's screams ringing in her ears…
She felt Severus's arms tighten around her and she let her taut muscles relax.
She started to remember where she was. She wasn't falling through the sky, plummeting to earth with Severus in her arms, on a rain-soaked night: It was late summer. In their room at the Black Hunting Lodge. Not long after dawn had crept over the moorland hills.
The morning air was chilly and Circe shivered as she looked out through the round bay window. Mist lapped up against the glass. Dartmoor looked even more desolate and dramatic than normal. Severus gripped her tighter in his embrace as he half-mumbled a good morning.
"Bad dream again?" He muttered into her neck.
She felt his warm breath tickle at her nape and she let out a little shiver. Circe moaned quietly and leaned back into his embrace.
"The reservoir. I felt like I was never going to feel warm again." She sighed, feeling the heat of his naked chest against her. "No wonder I dreamt about that. This room is so bloody cold.."
And it was. The B & B was basic, to put it mildly. Simple, late-seventies furniture, thin blankets, a faded watercolour mounted above the bed, damp and mould stains on the ceiling... They'd spent several hours fussing over the thermostat by the door, wondering how to get the room temperature up, before Severus had lost his patience and blasted it off the wall. Dartmoor was unnaturally cold for the late summer, and Circe found herself glowering at the hole in the wall Severus had left behind and wishing he'd just phoned the reception for help...
"You feel rather warm to me." Severus murmured softly in her ear.
His hands roamed her body, fingers ghosting over the skin of her hips, her arms, her breasts… Circe tilted her head back and opened her mouth, the gentleness of his touch setting her on edge in an instant. His touch turned ravenous as his fingers bit into her hips.
"Come here." He growled, so roughly his words were barely audible.
He pulled her ass backwards into his groin and Circe gasped, biting back another small moan as she felt the hardness of him against her. His lips and tongue caresse the delicate skin of her neck. She felt each brush of his mouth on her, lightning lashing through her veins each time his breath rippled over her. There were no other thoughts in her head other than his mouth and his hands and the firmness between his legs.
Severus's fingers inched closer to the apex of nerves between her thighs and he teased at her. Coaxing her to open up for him. He felt the throb of blood pounding in his groin. All he wanted to do was bury himself in her.
And then she suddenly pulled away.
Without her body pressed to his, he felt the cold of the room too. His eyes widened as he looked to Circe, sat on the end of the bed, slowly removing her pyjamas. Her naked figure was outlined in the light of the misty window and she inclined her head back to him just a fraction.
"I need to warm up in the shower." She said in a purr.
Severus scoffed and touched a hand to her beautiful hair, falling in gentle curls down her bare back. Circe stood up and took a few delicate steps towards the bathroom.
"Well, are you coming?" She asked coquettishly, turning back to look him dead in the eye.
Severus was up, undressed and in the bathroom by the time Circe had the water running.
He almost sent her toppling as his hungry lips crashed into hers. The two of them fell backwards into the shower, warm water cascading down over them as their tongues danced with one another. Severus's hands slid up a wet skin to cup her breasts. Circe moaned, arching her back into his touch, the feel of the warm water and his deft fingers on her nipples sending her into throws of ecstasy. His hungry mouth found those hardened nipples and he flicked his tongue over them, pressing her into him, devouring her taste, wanting to utterly consume her.
Circe lent her head back and cried out in pleasure. The feeble noise was almost lost amongst the roar of the shower. Severus's teasing fingers were at the apex of her legs once more, and he ran a hand along her opening. Fleetingly, softly, like the flick of his tongue on her breast… He did it again, and Circe buried her hands into his sodden hair.
Severus plunged a finger into her and she gasped, gripping his hair tighter.
"Mmm… sodden." He purred, looking up into her wide eyes. "And I don't think that's shower water."
"Severus…" Circe rasped, each move of his fingers inside her sending her mind spinning.
He stood up to his full height, the water spilling over his face. Circe was caught off guard by his straight and elegant features. His long nose, dripping rivets of water, his dark eyes, even darker than normal as they glowered with the embers of desire, his wet, black hair, looking like molten night about his shoulders…
She thrust her lips upon his again, wrapping him in a tight embrace and pressing her whole wanting, craving, needing being to his. Circe wanted to claw at him until both of their souls were laid bare and they could be forged together. His cock twinged against her stomach, and in the next moment, she had her legs wrapped around his waist, her back pressed against the cold tiled wall and he buried himself inside her in one sweeping and sudden movement. Severus whispered her name into her ear, thrusting his hips each time it passed his lips. He pulled out and plunged back in, their wet skin colliding in squelches with each thrust. Circe's sex quivered each time he slammed deep, her fingers digging into his back.
"Severus.." she gasped, feeling the tightening of her release building up inside her.
She looked at him. Deep into his obsidian eyes. Losing herself so entirely and utterly in him that the world could have imploded around them in that moment, and she wouldn't have cared. Her thick lips parted as she toppled over the edge with him. His name on her gasping mouth as he emptied himself inside her.
The hiss of the shower was the only noise for a long while. But they remained standing in the water, holding each other, until it began to turn cold. Severus reluctantly peeled himself away from her and got out, leaving Circe to the last of her cleaning by herself. He toweled himself off and dressed quickly, the chill of the room making his whole body shiver.
The moment overtook us again… Severus thought, gently shaking his head and telling himself off for letting his baser, animal instincts get the better of him. I shall have to ask Circe if she took her contraceptive potion recently.
He delved into one of his many bags strewn about the room and withdrew a small vial of something green and shimmering. Severus left the vial on the nightstand, beside Circe's makeup bag, and let out a sigh.
Reckless. This recklessness got us into trouble before...
The moors outside were eerily misty when he flung the flimsy curtains open. The television crackled into life as Severus tried to breathe some warmth and comfort back into the room, hoping another human voice would make it feel a tad more normal. But as the news report showed him images of flowers and tears and deep sadness, he realised that perhaps he'd not chosen the best channel…
Why change it though? He thought morosely. The same thing is on every bloody station…
He peered around the door of the hotel room to find that day's newspaper already waiting on the carpet outside for him, left there by the hotel staff. Severus had asked for the muggle paper to be delivered to their room each morning, just so he could scan for any "suspicious attacks" or "strange happenings" in the columns. He hoped that by doing so he could keep track of all of Fenrir's activities or other Death Eater raids going on outside of dreary Dartmoor. Fishing that day's paper off the floor, he cast a quick eye over the headline and scowled. Recently, rather infuriatingly, there hadn't been any stories in the muggle papers worth keeping an eye on; No one was reporting on anything other than the big news that was already plastered all over the tv...
Same story in all the newspapers too…
Before he shut the door, he glanced one last time down to the ground and saw a single, small, cream envelope on the carpet.
Is it…? he thought, bending low and picking it up. Another letter for Circe?
He turned it over in his hand and saw the seal of the School of Hommehoughair pressed into the wax. This was the second letter of this kind to arrive at the B&B for Circe and sure enough, her name was scrawled across it in Directeur Fontainebleau's cursive handwriting.
She must have written to them again. Severus thought as a long, hissing sigh escaped through his nose.
It physically pained him to have to hide these letters from Circe. He hated himself for it, but he had to. She couldn't know. Not yet. And it had, so far, been easy to intercept the Directeur's letters to her. Ziggy, Circe's owl, was too easily recognisable for the bird to fly right up to the B&B's window and drop her letters straight into her hands. So, the owl had been depositing her mail in the postbox of the B&B, who then, in turn, left it outside their room in the mornings along with Severus's newspaper. It was for her own good, for the good of the War too.. but even still, Circe's letters still felt as heavy as an iron anvil in his hands each time he smuggled them away before she could see them.
The hissing water of the shower abruptly stopped and Severus flinched. He pocketed Circe's letter and quickly closed the hotel room door, setting a mental reminder to incendio it later when he had another quiet moment to himself.
Circe emerged into the bedroom with her head wrapped in a large, white towel.
"Oh…" she sighed, spotting the vial of green potion on the nightstand and drinking it down hastily. "Thank you, Sev. I kept meaning to tell you I needed a top-up."
"Hmm." He said, nodding coolly at her as he took a long sip from his mug.
Circe smacked her lips and poured herself her own mug of tea. The taste of the contraceptive potion wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary. She couldn't let carelessness get the better of her again. Not now. Not now the War was well and truly upon them. She washed out the lingering aftertaste from her mouth, letting her cup of Twinings coat her tongue, and set her mug down on the window ledge. Circe glanced at Severus, his head already stuck into that day's paper, and then to the television across the room.
"…We have all been trying in our different ways to cope. It is not easy to express a sense of loss, since the initial shock is often succeeded by a mixture of other feelings: disbelief, incomprehension, anger - and concern for those who remain…" The Queen droned on in her clipped, regal voice.
"How awful. To die so suddenly… and tragically like that." Circe muttered, shaking her head.
"The funeral is tomorrow, apparently." Severus responded, sinking into an armchair, his nose still buried in the paper. "Apparently the palace have allowed the use of the Abbey. They're expecting thousands in the streets of London. Oh and Elton John is due to perform a rewritten version of 'Candle in the Wind'."
"Your candle's burned out long before your legend ever will." Circe sighed.
"I might have chosen that for my mother's funeral… if I'd have known about it." Severus muttered sadly, his eyes settling on something seemingly far away and distant.
Circe watched him slip away into the past and she tried to reach out to him, stop him from falling into miserable, dark memories and leaving her behind. "They played 'What a Wonderful World' at my Mum's funeral. I still can't listen to it without getting teary-eyed. What would you have?"
Severus looked at her in silence for a beat. His mouth curled into a small, grateful smile, and his chest swelled with thankfulness. Just how Circe knew when his mind was about to get the better of him was still a mystery to Severus.
"Oh, don't make a fuss over me with music and all that. There won't be many people at my funeral to hear it anyhow."
"Oh, come on Sev! After everything I've taught you about how much music is woven in us. How integral is it to life-"
"Alright, alright…" Severus said with a sigh. "I don't know… perhaps something you used to sing. Or music we listened to together. There was one on that very first CD you gave me… 'In My Life'."
"Oh! Good choice." Circe nodded approvingly. She felt a swell of love in her heart, glad that the music her and Severus had shared meant so much to him. So much so that he wanted to take a small part of it to his grave.
"And you?" He asked her.
"I've thought about this-"
"You've thought about your own funeral before?" Severus interrupted.
"Of course. You've gotta know and tell someone what you want, otherwise it'll be 'Careless Whisper' as the curtains close…"
"Merlin's beard. Alright, what do you want?"
"'American Pie', Don McLean."
"Not awful." Severus nodded. "Let's pray that I never have to hear that song without you."
The two of them fell quiet.
Circe cleared her throat and tried to brush away the feeling of bad omens on the breeze.
"So, Elton's going to be there. Who else is going to the funeral of the People's Princess?" She asked.
"The Ministry will have to put a few Aurors in the crowd. There's going to be quite a lot of important Muggles there: The Prime Minister, for one, so Kingsley will have to be there… That muggle actor that you like…"
"Tom Cruise?"
"That's the name." Severus sighed. "As well as Pavarotti, The Clintons, Spielberg, The Prince of Wales, her two boys…"
Circe swallowed hard and bowed her head. "Poor kids." She said, almost in a whisper.
Severus lowered his paper and watched CIrce carefully as she took the towel from her head and began scrunching her curls. She absent-mindedly wandered about the room, searching for her wand to cast a quick drying spell on her hair. Circe didn't so much as glance at herself in the mirror when her curls turned from damp and heavy to tight and bouncy on top of her head. Normally, she fussed over her hair with umpteen different products and potions before she got it just to her liking. Now, she just wandered aimlessly over to the hotel room window and perched on the ledge. There was something heavy and haunted about her eyes that made Severus worry for her. If her magic had made her thoughts manifest, he theorized that he'd be able to see a thick, black storm cloud hovering over her head.
"If I can guess what you're thinking…" he began slowly, pretending to be more interested in his newspaper than her. "Then you have to go and get Herri's bacon buttie for him this morning."
She snapped her head up to look at Severus, unaware that her introspective thoughts had been so obvious to him.
His brow was raised incredulously at her from across the room. She scoffed and replied with a small chuckle, "Alright, deal."
"You're thinking… all of this…" Severus began slowly, wagging a finger at the tv screen. "…is reminding you of your mother. You're thinking that you know what it's like to walk behind the coffin of a parent, like those boys will have to do tomorrow."
"Pfft! Well if I'm that easy to read, then perhaps I need to step out of this spying game altogether!" She responded jovially.
Severus chuckled but held her gaze, inviting her to say more. He wasn't going to let her brush off the issue with humour that easily. Circe's smile fell into a more serious face. She looked to her naked feet and nodded.
"If my Mum was even in her bloody coffin on that day, that is…" she muttered darkly. "The only person who might have known the answer to that was Andromeda. And she won't probably let me leave her sights alive if I rocked up to her house to ask her."
"There will be other people we can ask." Severus said, trying to sound comforting. "We'll find out what happened to her."
"My Mum wasn't Princess Diana, Sev." Circe scoffed, glancing back to the TV, the reporter going through the long list of A-list guests expected at the funeral tomorrow. "She didn't have that many friends."
The two of them went quiet, the news report droning quietly on in the background as Circe dressed herself. Another lazy day of waiting stretched out before them. Waiting for summons from The Dark Lord, waiting for news of what had happened to Harry that rainy night above Little Whinging, waiting for the sign they needed to come out of hiding. So far, Circe had only traversed a few short and basic walks in Dartmoor, returning back to the B&B before too long just in case Severus started worrying about her. Herriculus, their little secret, spent most of his time watching children's cartoons and eating his way through the food Circe left in his room for him. To Herriculus's credit, he hadn't once left room number 54, not even when his short-term roommate, Mundungus, had threatened to drive him mad. The old man didn't ask for much, just a steady supply of food and a bit of conversation whenever Circe or Severus dropped by his room to check up on him. Every time she would leave Herriculus his morning bacon roll, he would look up at her with his bright and wrinkled eyes and ask:
"Have you figured out how I can die yet?"
Circe couldn't bear to tell him that until recently she'd not had the time to look into it yet. His face was so hopeful, so desperate. So, she would respond with a non-comitial "I'm still researching it…" and move swiftly on to another topic. Circe was beginning to doubt the promise she had made to Herriculus in that regard, because helping the old man to die would actively involve trying to kill him. She'd grown very fond of the ancient, little man during the past few weeks that they had all been exiled in Dartmoor. And just the mere thought of intentionally trying to harm the child-like and bright-eyed Herriculus sent her stomach into knots.
It didn't help that Circe would sometimes wake up in their hotel bed to find Herriculus curled up in between her and Severus, like a toddler who'd just had a nightmare...
Keeping the glamours up on Herri's room was becoming quite a drain on Circe's magic. Not only did she have to alter and obliviate the memories of the staff into forgetting room 54 existed, but she had to keep track of all the new guests arriving at the B&B, just in case they asked if the room was vacant or went snooping inside it. Her whole illusion would be shattered then and Herriculus would be found. But mercifully, this late in the summer, there weren't many new guests checking in to the hotel these days. Especially not with the abysmally foggy and cold weather…
"It's funny isn't it, Sev." Circe mused, looking out over the moors at a few grazing wild ponies. "How events in the muggle world will mirror events that happen in the wizarding world…"
"How so?" He asked over the top of his newspaper.
"Well… beloved leader adored by many, dies tragically in horrific accident, sending the whole country into mourning..."
"You think Diana, Princess of Wales is a direct parallel to… Dumbledore?" Severus asked, his brow arching at her.
"Well no, not directly…but you can't un-see the similarities once you start spotting them."
"Hmm." Severus said, his face forming into a frown.
"Like before, when Dumbledore fought Gellert Grindelwald in the forties." Circe continued. "Well, you don't need to look too closely at history to know what else was going on then…"
"The great jump in werewolf infections in the late 70's and the early 80's…" Severus mused, his eyes glazing over slightly. "Just like the AIDS epidemic."
"The Death Eater attacks in the First Wizarding War." Circe sighed. "I remember seeing stories of IRA bombings in muggle papers and stories of Voldemort's followers in the Prophet, published on the same days sometimes."
"Perhaps we're just looking for similarities." Severus said gloomily, shrugging his shoulders. "Trying to find patterns and sense where there is none…Searching for a face in the clouds or in our coffee foam when there isn't one…"
They both watched the television for a moment in silence. Gazing at the buzzing screen as the news reporter droned over images of the thousands of flowers outside Kensington Palace, the people crying in the streets, the cards, messages and letters fluttering in the breeze…
"There's no sense in death." Severus stated solemnly. "Especially when death takes the young and the good."
Circe watched Severus's stony face for a moment, his eyes reflecting the images on the television screen. She glanced back to the news report and watched quietly as the channel played some old stock footage of the two young princes playing with their now dead mother. Her eyes, so wide and lovely. Her motherhood practically making her glow from within…
"I know what this reminds you of." Circe muttered so quietly he almost didn't hear it. But he did. And he felt an old, familiar stab of pain in his chest.
Severus looked at her silently. Feeling all at once exposed and understood. His throat was too tight to answer her, so he waited for Circe to say it explicitly and lay it out in front of them both.
"When Lily died."
He nodded. His Adam's-apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.
Circe cast her eyes back out over the Dartmoor hills and sighed. "I remember the pictures of the flowers they put outside Godric's Hollow." She whispered to the misty morning. "I remember the stories in the Prophet saying how the bouquets outside their home got a meter deep at one point. They must have come from every corner of Britain to leave them for James and Lily. I remember seeing pictures of people weeping over the remains of their house. People that had never even known them too. At first I thought it was kind of stupid, that they were playing into this mass hysteria. Getting worked up and upset for the sake of it… But maybe I just felt bitter. The First War had ended with Lily and James's deaths, before I'd got a chance to fight for the future like they did. And…"
Circe paused, taking a gulp of air.
"…And who am I to say who's allowed to get upset and who isn't? Who am I to pass judgement on who's allowed to mourn for someone and who isn't?"
She paused for a moment and sucked in a deep, tired breath. "I doubt strangers would cry over my death like that."
"If I ever have to find out the answer to that notion…" Severus muttered, his face rippling with dark thoughts. "… then that would truly see me off."
"Well, you know what I mean." Circe sighed. "People who inspire a reaction like that. People who can send the whole world into mourning. People that won't fade with the setting sun or the passage of time. They are special. Rare. Irreplaceable."
Severus gazed at her as she spoke, surprised that she was willing to broach this topic of conversation when it had once been so difficult for them. But now, it was different. Now, speaking of Lily and her death was tender but approachable. She not only tolerated Lily's presence in his life, but she respected and honoured it. Severus had heard Circe when she'd said in Dumbledore's Office that his love of Lily only made her love him more, but until that moment he didn't quite believe it.
"Thank you." He said hoarsely.
"For what?" She asked.
He got up from his chair and wandered over to her side. Severus placed a hand on her face and caressed her cheek gently. "For knowing, for understanding, and for loving me anyway."
"Despite what you say, you aren't a hard man to love, Severus." Circe responded, her eyes locked with his.
She touched a hand to Severus's face too and felt his hot breath on her lips as he leaned in for a kiss. His mouth was tender and lingering upon hers, the kiss embossed with the depth of his adoration.
"Let's not talk of death and funerals anymore." He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "I don't wish to tempt fate any more so than you and I already do in this game."
Circe scoffed. "Tempting fate…" she echoed. "People like you and me, Sev, don't get to grow old. We're too unlucky for that."
"Lucky enough to have found each other though." He said with a small, sad smile.
"Yes." She conceded, running her hand down the side of his face. "That was a small bit of luck, wasn't it."
Severus looped one of her wet curls around his finger and planted another soft and hungry kiss on her mouth.
"My good luck charm." He purred, trailing a long line of kisses down her neck. "That is, of course, when you aren't getting me almost killed with your reckless behaviour..."
Circe blanched and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She knew what Severus was alluding to. He'd told her off like a defiant schoolgirl in the days after the last mission and she'd argued back like a cornered hellcat. She could still feel the anger roiling inside her for Bellatrix and it burned in her gut like she'd swallowed a glowing ember of coal. It was odd. She'd never hated anyone as much as she hated Bellatrix. Not even close. And she didn't quite know what to do with that hatred.
"I told you, I wasn't going to kill Bellatrix." she said in a low voice, her jaw gritted. "I was just going to… maim or seriously injure her."
"Circe-" Severus warned.
"And you would have been fine if you hadn't thrown yourself in my way!" she added defensively.
"Circe, you promised me in Malfoy Manor that you wouldn't lose yourself in this fight."
"I promised you that I wouldn't hurt anyone unless either myself or some other innocent was in immediate danger." Circe said challengingly. "In that moment, it was her or them. And I chose them."
"The Order chose to be a part of this War. They know the dangers of this fight. It is not your responsibility to protect them." Severus said, his voice cold.
"How can you say that?!" Circe asked, her face horrified. "Have you really forgotten what it's like to have someone you care about in danger, Severus?"
"I would have torn apart anyone who hurt you that night." Severus growled. "You know that."
"So you do understand. You must know then that even if it's not my "responsibility", I'll damn-well fight tooth and nail for them!"
"At the cost of your cover?" he asked, his voice rising.
Circe stared at him for a moment. She swallowed hard and looked back at her feet. "My cover is not compromised…" she said quietly.
"Not right now. But how would you have explained your actions if your sectumsempra had struck Bellatrix in the back? The Dark Lord would have instantly turned his suspicions on you."
Circe leaned against the window and folded her arms in a huff.
"Circe…" Severus said, breathing her name imploringly. He turned her face back to his until she looked him in the eye. "Don't make me bury you first."
His eyes glimmered with an intense pain and Circe felt a stab in her own heart as he spoke his agonising plea to her. Circe knew that if either one of them was outed as a spy, they'd both, most likely be killed. Severus wouldn't be long behind her if Voldemort put her in the ground. But nevertheless, Severus's sentiment struck home.
Her throat closed with emotion. Tears rose in her eyes as she tore her gaze away from his. Something akin to shame stirred in the place beneath her hatred, buried beneath that burning hot coal of loathing for Bellatrix.
"I didn't mean to hurt him…" she whispered hoarsely.
George. What I did to George. She thought, unable to say his name out loud. As if she was afraid saying it would summon him and she'd be forced to confront the consequences of her actions.
Severus seized her hand and squeezed tight. "I know you didn't." he said softly.
"I hurt him. He'll be maimed forever because of me." she whispered, tears spilling over her eyes and down her cheeks.
"It was an accident. You didn't mean to-"
"I'm a fucking hypocrite." Circe scoffed, cutting him off. "Here I am crying because I took the side of someone's face off. Can you imagine what I'd be like if I'd actually killed someone?! Even if it was Bella…" Circe shook her head and dropped her gaze.
"And that's how I know you're still my Circe." Severus said, wiping her tears away with the back of his hand. "My Circe is hot-headed and reckless and petulant, but you'd never want to harm someone. Not if you could help it."
"I wanted to harm Bellatrix, Severus. I still do." she said darkly.
"But your better nature says otherwise. You regret harming George. These tears say so." Severus said, waving his wet hand in her face.
"You don't know what was going on inside my head that night." Circe grumbled. "The things I thought… How much I wanted to hurt her for everything she's done… what she was going to do…"
"Bellatrix's comeuppance will come soon enough. And trust me, there's nothing I'd like to do more than tear that amber brooch right off her chest and present it back to you. But we cannot let hate cloud our judgement. That's what she wants. She wants to goad you into making a mistake. And trust me when I tell you that killing isn't a mistake that can be easily rectified."
Dumbledore. When you killed Dumbledore.
Circe felt his name hang heavy in the air between them. She saw the old Headmaster in the dark, swimming eyes of Severus in that moment. The man he had killed. Haunting his every step. Lingering just over his shoulder.
But that isn't the same. Circe thought.
"Dumbledore asked for death, Severus. What you did wasn't a mistake, it was a mercy." Circe said bravely. It was the first time she had dared to say Albus's name out loud since they had been reunited after the night on the Astronomy Tower.
Severus's face fell into a cold mask. A part of him retreated inwards. He was unreachable. Unready to talk about what tormented him. And Circe realised with dismay that perhaps she had raised the issue too soon...
"I just…" she said hurriedly, trying to move away from the triggering issue. "... feel so angry. All the time." Circe breathed, her voice trembling.
Her sadness was like a hand reaching through the dark to him. And instantly he was yanked back fully into his body, ready to be her rock of support.
"I know. I have felt that anger too. Each time I look at Voldemort's face and think about what he did to Lily. But you musn't let anger and bitterness define who you are. I did for a long time. Until you came along." He caressed Circe's cheek lovingly, looking deep into her eyes. "Until you came to Hogwarts I believed that all I was was my anger and resentment and everything awful I felt inside."
"So how do I stop it? How do I stop that part of me taking over?"
"That's why you have me." Severus said with a cocky smile. "All of us need saving from ourselves sometimes, like you once saved me long ago."
Severus stared into her shining emerald eyes for a beat. She always looked so beautiful when she cried… Such grace and fire even in her sadness… Her lips trembled and he felt a tugging deep inside him, pulling him towards her once more. Aching to know the taste of her mouth, the warmth of her arms, the scent of her skin again.
He bent his head and leant in for another kiss… when a screaming ball of iridescent blue light came bursting through their window.
The swirling blue ball shot straight past their faces, leaving stars in both of their eyes in the moments of panic that followed. Circe flinched and let out a stifled scream, half-expecting Cartwright or another Auror had found them and decided to attack. She raised her hands to her face, thinking the glass of the window had shattered, and sharp shards of tiny razors were about to come raining down upon her. But there wasn't any. The window was intact.
The blue ball flitted around the room with a shrill shrieking noise. Severus followed it, his dark eyes fixed on the thing as intently as a hawk following a field mouse. His shoulders were tensed, his hand hovering just above his wand. Circe was just about to ask him what the thing was when she heard voices coming from inside the blue ball. Screams and shouting. Men and women. Voices of distress and panic. Faces too appeared from out of the swirling blue light. People she didn't recognise, all dressed primly and smartly.
"Severus…" Circe whispered, somewhat surprised to hear her own voice . "What is-"
"It's a non-corporeal patronus. Most Death Eaters can't even summon this, let alone have it take shape." he muttered back, his eyes never once leaving the ball of blue light, his stance not relaxing an inch. "It's a message…"
"The Ministry has fallen." a stone-cold, flat voice stated.
Circe gasped and covered her mouth. The face of Walden Macnair formed from out of the wisps of blue light, the hint of a cruel, smarmy smile clearly visible in his visage.
"Rufus Scrimgeour is dead. The Dark Lord's followers have occupied all levels of government. All praise the Dark Lord, He is triumphant!"
The blue ball winked out in the following second. The room plunged back into darkness and a thick silence descended, as cold and heavy as the mist outside. Circe and Severus both stood open-mouthed and in shocked horror at the space in the room where the light had once been. Circe breathed out once and rubbed her stinging eyes. Severus allowed his shoulders to slump too, dropping his hand down from his wand once he was satisfied there was no danger.
"S-Scrimgeour's dead..?" Circe repeated again, her face ashen. "That means- "
"Voldemort will have his own puppet Minister in charge of things now. The last days of safety for half-bloods and muggle-borns in the wizarding world just ended." Severus muttered grievously.
"Oh God…" Circe whispered, feeling her stomach drop like a stone.
"It probably means something else too." Severus said, as mirthlessly as if he was reading aloud a death sentence.
"What?" Circe asked, flicking her eyes to his pallid face.
"That you and I can now return to Hogwarts."
Each face that stared up at her sent a chill down her spine.
The great homecoming that Circe had dreamt of all summer was a bleak and miserable affair. She took no joy in this procession, this show of dominance, this very public display of their authority and rule.
Each time a student glanced up to the top of the clock tower and looked her in the eye, Circe felt a squirm of discomfort inside her.
There were more, more than she'd expected to come back. And each solemn face she counted was an absolute picture of misery.
The sky was grey, the clouds were grey, everything was grey and cold. Not like that wonderful green landscape that had been in the painting Circe had seen in the Gallery. All of the colour had been zapped out of Hogwarts. All the warmth.
It didn't feel like coming home, it felt like coming back to a prison, and she was the warden.
For the briefest of seconds, when the students looked up at Circe from the neat little rows of compliant bodies they had been formed into, she could see the hints of surprise in their eyes when they saw her. But then their faces would form into a scowl of hatred when they spied Severus stood behind her.
The headline in the Daily Prophet had read in big bold letters: "Severus Snape confirmed as Hogwarts Headmaster. His consort, Circe Smith, the Deputy."
"Consort". That was the name the Prophet had decided to give her, so that was the name she would use to describe the character she became. The character she was right now, staring down at them all as if she were made of ice and stone.
The two of them looked like a dual set of dark chess pieces: the King and the Queen of Hogwarts. Side by side, they stood at the top of the clock tower. They both watched the procession of students pass beneath them as if they were the monarchs of the land, inspecting their troops or conducting a military ceremony. The sounds of falling, heavy feet echoed through the stone walls of the castle. Rhythmically. Like the beat of a song. But it was not the type of music that brought Circe joy, it was a beat of bone drums and screaming fiddles.
Both of them were dressed head to toe in black, unmoving, unfeeling, betraying nothing but an air of dominance and malevolence. Their two Bishops, Alecto and Amycus, stood poised in the courtyard, wands at the ready to jinx any renegades who dared step out of line. Severus had warned Circe that she had to remain wholly committed to her role: the role of the willing accomplice, the Death Eater's consort, the apostle of the Dark Lord. She could not betray even an ounce of compassion or concern.
The staff led them in House by House. First, the Slytherins, led by Slughorn. The students of the House of the snake showed the least amount of fear and trepidation out of all. But that was to be expected; half of their mothers and fathers were in the ranks of the Dark Lord anyway… Draco was among them, glancing up at Circe and Severus and nodding curtly to them as he passed through the courtyard. As if he wanted to make a special show of the fact that he knew them, to make it clear to the others that he was on special terms with them.
You little sycophant. Circe thought to herself, forcing her face to betray nothing of the things she felt within. I remember when you wept like a baby in front of Dumbledore, your hands shaking as you pointed your wand at him. I remember how you shook with fear at Malfoy Manor, how you didn't even look Him in the eye when he demanded your father's wand. And now you want to show off to your House-mates. The big tough Death Eater who knows Headmaster Severus Snape and his Queen, Circe Smith.
Next came the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws, led by Pomona and Filius. Circe's heart sank down to her boots as she realised her House were now marching over the cobblestones beneath her. Her children. The students wearing yellow and blue looked much less content than the Slytherins with the new turn of events at Hogwarts... Circe's Ravenclaws, Cho and Luna amongst them, couldn't hide the looks of hurt and betrayal on their faces as they marched on to the military rhythm The Carrows had set. Something from the end of last year flashed in her memory, something she remembered Cho saying… That the Ravenclaws were all seen as collaborators and quislings now because of her. Circe sent up a silent prayer to whatever God was listening, begging to help the other students see that the Ravenclaws were innocent of any wrongdoing.
Some of the Hufflepuffs were openly weeping. The sunny-ness and bright dispositions they often had felt somehow smothered by the grey and dismal sky. Circe counted at least three Hufflepuffs who were already sniffing and wet-cheeked. And they made no effort to wipe their tears away or hide them. That was a mistake; it instantly drew the attentions of Alecto and Amycus onto them. But again, Circe was forced to do nothing as the twins eyed up those who were crying as prey for later. Out of all of the Houses, they were the House that showed their fear closest to the surface.
Then, finally, came Mcgonagall and the Gryffindors.
And Circe wanted to die with shame.
Her old friend and confidant looked up at Circe not with a glance of pain or anger or betrayal, but with something that looked like deep, deep disappointment. Circe was stripped bare by that look. It made her insides cringe. And when she locked eyes with Minerva, she saw all of the hurt she had put Mcgonagall through. All the kindness Mcgonagall had showed her over the years, repaid with backstabbing and betrayal. The woman who she had looked up to as a surrogate mother, she now had to look down upon as if she were vermin. Circe could see that Minerva was thinking all of the same things she was, and it destroyed her inside. The lioness was broken. Sallow, hollow-eyed and slouched. Minerva had never looked so fragile.
Circe had to force down a rising sob in her chest. She felt Severus's hand at her back, almost as if he were trying to hold her up straight, force her to keep staring them down. He told her in the touch of his fingers to not let her mask slip, keep looking down her nose at them as if they were ants under her boot. Yet he could feel her trembling. He flicked his eyes to her face for the briefest of seconds, watching her for the very faintest cracks of emotion. But there were none. She was a woman of stone and ice on the outside. However, he could feel the hot, molten lava of shame twisting inside her. Boiling just beneath the surface. She would scream and cry in his arms tonight when they were alone.
Alone together in their new, shared quarters. Severus had not been surprised to learn that all of his belongings had been moved from the Dungeons to the Headmaster's rooms. What had surprised him, however, was the presence of Circe's things left outside the room too. Circe had been a little shellshocked when she'd gone through her clothes and her books and all the other things the Ministry hadn't confiscated when they'd ransacked her quarters after Dumbledore's death. Of course, thinking it through, Circe would have had to have moved out of her and Minerva's shared rooms. Now that they were outed as a duo, now that everybody knew they were together, now that everyone thought they were the Dark Lord's spy couple. It made sense; they didn't have to hide from anyone anymore. Circe could stand at Severus's side and share his bed at night. Yet Circe felt like she'd been evicted from her home. Like she'd been kicked out of the womb…
No more lazy afternoons lounging in the conservatory, no more long soaks in the Griffon-footed bath, no more polite knocks on her door in the mornings from Minerva, checking if she was awake for the start of the school day…
Circe cast her eyes over the Gryffindors below her.
She counted the faces of the few defiant returning students that she recognised: Ginny, Dean, Lee, Colin, Lavender… Circe felt the heat of their hate-filled eyes on her face. Yet still, they fell into line, marching on rhythmically like little soldiers.
"None of them." Severus said suddenly, making Circe flinch slightly. "No Potter, Weasley or Granger."
"Well, we always knew Harry probably wouldn't be coming back. He'd have been stupid to return to Hogwarts now." Circe muttered in return.
"Yes, well, quite." Severus said flatly. "We can only assume that he's out there searching for the last Horcruxes, and a means by which to destroy them." He added, whispering into her ear as the last students passed by beneath them. "And Granger and Weasley have gone with him."
"Of course they did. They wouldn't have let him go on his own." Circe said, the slightest hint of pride in her voice.
"Well, very admirable…" Severus droned. "But it now means that we have no idea where Potter and his friends are. Until they make a mistake or we get a stroke of good luck, we can't find them… and help them."
Circe didn't put much stock in her and Severus's "luck". She silently chewed over their situation, wondering what corver of the world Harry might be hiding in. Would he even accept their help if they offered it to him now?
"I received a letter from the Weasley boy's mother yesterday…" Severus continued, shaking Circe out of her speculative trance. "...stating that her son had Dragon Pox and wouldn't be returning to school until it had cleared. I think Molly spat in the envelope before she gave it to her owl too…"
"And Hermione? What's she gonna do when the Death Eaters start questioning her Mother and Father? Asking where she is?"
Severus went quiet and still beside her. Circe frowned and turned to face him.
"Severus?" She asked him a little sternly, demanding to know what he knew.
"Hermione's parents are missing. We don't know where they are."
Circe looked through him, her mind ticking over what she had just been told.
"She hid them." She said quietly. "Like I did with Dad."
"That was the conclusion I came to as well."
Circe felt an old, familiar wound ache within her. The wound created on the night she had obliviated her family. Forcing them to forget everything about her. None the wiser to her very existence.
Hermione had to do that too. She thought, closing her eyes as a wave of empathy threatened to drown her. She had to obliviate her own family as well.
"Brave girl." Circe said hoarsely. "Poor, brave girl."
Severus bent over the ledge of the clock tower, noticing that the Carrow twins were gone from their positions. He let out a long and weary sigh.
"I suppose I better chase after the Carrows. Make sure they don't crucify any of the Hufflepuffs they were eyeing up earlier." He said exhaustedly.
Circe nodded in agreement. Her heart had sunk when Severus had informed her that Alecto and Amycus were to join them at Hogwarts that year. A last-minute order of The Dark Lord now he had complete control of both The Ministry and Hogwarts. From the little interaction Circe had already had with The Carrows, she was dismayed to find out that they were going to be her colleagues this year. Circe had hoped that with her and Severus at the helm of the school, Hogwarts would have been safe under their dual protection. But now, with The Carrows also at Hogwarts, Circe and Severus's position became that little bit more complicated. The Carrows were two poisonous, vicious vipers that had been let loose within the walls of the school. And Circe and Severus both had to try and control them… whilst also appearing to be just as depraved and dangerous as them.
"The First Years should be arriving soon." Severus added, sweeping his gaze down to the Lake, looking for the boats upon the water. "And I'd like to keep Minerva where I can see her for the time being."
"First Years?" Circe asked in surprise. "There are new students starting this year?"
"There were always going to be some new children.
From families who have no clue what's happening in the wizarding world, or children from pureblood families who support the Dark Lord's uprising, perhaps even families who are too afraid to not send their children to Hogwarts, just in case the Death Eaters come knocking on their door."
"I just…" Circe breathed. "… can't imagine this year being someone's first year at Hogwarts. It's so sad for them. They'll think all this is… normal."
"I doubt if anyone, even the First Years, will think this is normal. There they are now." Severus said, pointing out to a little fleet of bobbing lanterns floating over the water of the Black Lake.
"I'll go and meet them at the Boat House then." Circe said, stepping away from the ledge to the courtyard.
Severus nodded sagely at her. Before Circe turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him.
"Be careful." He whispered to her.
"On the trip down to the Boat House? It's not like I've walked it a thousand times…" She replied sarcastically.
"I meant be careful everywhere now. You must watch what you do and say as if Voldemort himself was hovering over your shoulder." He said in a low, rumbling voice. "The walls of this castle have ears and eyes now."
"They always did." Circe said wearily.
Severus dropped her wrist and watched her go. Circe descended down the steps of the tall clock tower, lost in deep thoughts. As she passed through the halls and corridors, she could hear the hum of silence around her. No voices, no excited chatter, as was normal on the first day back at school. It was as if the students were afraid to make any noise. And Circe didn't blame them…
Perhaps that's smart. Circe thought morosely. Means they won't draw attention to themselves.
The winding steps down to the Boat House were spotting with rain by the time Circe reached them. It was a steep descent down to the Lake too. Circe had counted the steps down to the Boat House once, and had lost count at around eight-hundred or so. The grey sky above her began pouring forth rain and Circe had to concentrate all her energy into not slipping on the stone stairs. Each step down thudded in her ears, reverberating through her whole body like the rhythmic marching of the students she'd heard earlier. She let out a long sigh as she neared the bottom, dreading the idea that she'd have to walk back up them all again soon…
"C'mon First Years, don't be shy!" The booming voice of Hagrid sounded out from the little Boat House. "Off the boats now. No time fer chatterin'."
Circe stilled for a moment, her heart swelling with joy as she heard the excited noises the First Years were making. It was so comforting knowing that at least someone was happy to be at Hogwarts, even if that happiness came from ignorance or naivety…
"No need t'tie up yer boats, they'll take care of 'emselves." Hagrid said, his voice travelling out of the Boat House, louder than all of the other eager, little voices of the First Years put together.
Circe reached the doorway and stepped inside. Immediately, she was greeted by the many youthful and excitable faces of the First Years all milling about on the jetty as they waited to be escorted up to the castle. They were a fumbling mess of pigtails, gap-toothed smiles, and ill-fitting uniforms but they practically bristled with excitement. Their lanterns were lit, bathing them all in a bright orange light that cut through the pervasive gloominess of that afternoon. The inside of the Boat House was lined with rows of oars and paddles, the roof pointed and beamed with dark wood. In the light of the First Years' lanterns, it almost made it feel like the inside of a rib-cage, and the children were the beating heart of life inside it. The boats they had arrived on all drifted out of the Boat House by themselves in single file, one by one and left to tuck themselves away somewhere safe until next year. Hagrid was just helping the last of the First Years out of their boats with a gentle and kind hand. But his warm and ruddy face fell into an expression of unabashed loathing as his eyes found Circe. For a second, neither of them said anything, the First Years growing a little quieter around them.
"Professor Smith." He said coldly, looking away from her, but not before Circe had seen the same flash of betrayal in his eyes that had followed her all day.
Circe felt a pain in her chest. Hagrid, the first person she'd reunited with when she'd returned to Hogwarts, the first friendly face she'd seen when she'd decided to come home, most likely now despised her.
"Hello Hagrid." She said a little shakily. She cleared her throat and tried to slide back into her Consort persona again. "Headmaster Snape sent me to meet the First Years." She added, raising her chin, her voice now cold and firm.
"Headmaster Snape." The Half-Giant grumbled, unable to hide his discontent that Severus now held that title. "Professor Mcgonagall normally comes down 'ere to meet the young'uns."
"Well… things are a little different this year." Circe responded.
"Aint they just." Hagrid said with a sneer.
The crowd of children shifted a touch on their feet, able to sense the uncomfortable atmosphere between her and Hagrid. A tall, freckle-faced boy stepped to the side, revealing another First Year stood behind him and Circe suddenly felt her legs go weak…
White-hot shock coursed through her.
Her eyes widened until they felt like they were going to pop out of her head. Her heartbeat doubling instantly.
Had it really been that long? It can't have come around so quickly…. How had she forgotten? How had she let it slip her mind?
But there he was. The little boy in front of her, who was not so little now. Not compared to the last time she had seen him almost two years ago.
But he still had the same long, mullet-style hair and honey amber eyes.
Gazing back at her. Staring her down with a look of confusion and wariness on his face.
He wouldn't know her, Circe realised. He wouldn't recognise her at all. But she knew him. And her heart ached with a potent mix of love and dread.
Tom…