There wasn't much Circe Whitlock could remember about the night she was taken. She could remember the bitingly cold air, the crunch of the snow under her feet, the plumes of vapour that escaped her mouth with each hurried breath. There was no warning of an attack, nor had she seen her attacker, there was only the sudden jolt as her body was tightly bound by invisible forces. Everything after that had been a blur, the shadow of a cloaked witch or wizard had passed across her face, a glimpse of dark hair. Her lips were parted by unseen fingers, a sweet liquid poured slowly into her mouth, the scent of lavender invaded her nostrils.

Now Circe found herself in a dark room, bound at the wrist and ankles, her red hair was tangled across her face. She struggled against the restraints; her head still fuzzy from the potion induced sleep. Her weak cries for help were muffled against the rag that sat firmly between her lips. There wasn't enough light to figure out where she was exactly, but she knew she was on a bed. Thin voiles were draped around the thick wooden posts of the bed, partially obscuring her view of the room, the only illumination came from the silvery moonlight through an uncovered window. Circe thrashed around fruitlessly, throwing herself back against the pillows, breathless and full of fury.

"There's no point in struggling," the low, steady voice of a man came from a dark corner of the room.

Circe bolted upright on the bed, scanning the room for any sign of the mystery speaker. She tried to ask what they wanted with her, but her voice was dulled against the cloth.

"Your only hope of getting out of those ropes lies solely with me. I suggest you don't try to resist me or cause a scene."

Circe mumbled incoherent obscenities through the rag, looking around the room wildly to find her captor.

"That's no way to behave, I'm offering you a chance to be free of your restraints. But... you must comply with the conditions I am about to give you, does that seem agreeable?"

Circe sighed and hung her head, her brown eyes downcast. She gave the briefest of nods.

"You will not scream, you will not fight me, you will not run. If I ask you to do something, you will do it without hesitation. You are not to speak unless spoken to. Do you agree with these conditions?"

Circe knew that her best chance of getting away was to agree with whatever was asked of her. She would play along, for now.

"Mmhmm," Circe mumbled.

"Good. I'm going to come and untie you now. Remember what I just said."

She sat upright and as still as possible as she heard him approach the bed, her breaths came hard and fast through her nose. He began to loosen the knots, excruciatingly slowly, as if he were expecting her to bolt at any moment. The thought had crossed her mind but now was not the time to try to run.

Circe felt a flood of relief as her wrists were finally freed from the tight ropes, wincing as she rubbed over the red skin where the rope had grazed her flesh. There was a moment of silence before she heard him move round to the edge of the bed where her feet were. He untied the knots faster this time, seemingly satisfied that she wouldn't do anything foolish.

She could just make out his pale skin, his dark hair hung around his face as he continued removing the rope from around her ankles. There was a slight pause as the rope fell to the floor, a beat of uncertain silence before he raised his head to look at her. Circe had no hope of disguising the look of recognition on her face, his own expression told her that he'd already seen.

"Do you know who I am?" he drawls.

Circe gave a curt nod, "Yes, you're Severus Snape. We were at Hogwarts together."

"Then you'll know that I currently serve The Dark Lord. I am his most valued follower and therefore I have been given certain freedoms. You are talented in the art of potion brewing, are you not?"

"I... I guess."

He pursed his lips and exhaled sharply out of his nose, "You will have the chance to demonstrate your abilities to me. Do you have any questions?"

"Why am I here? Why did you take me?"

Severus folded his arms across his chest, his wand nestled tightly in the grip of one hand, "The Dark Lord continues to grow in power, his reach spreads further by the day. I find myself with less time to devote to potions. Voldemort has agreed to my request for someone to help me. Being that most of his followers lack a decent foundation in potion making skills, it was necessary for me to look beyond The Dark Lord's trusted supporters."

"That doesn't explain why you chose me."

"I remember your proficiency in Potions classes, you're also a pureblood witch."

"But-"

Severus raised one hand quickly to silence her, "No more questions, follow me."

He held his wand out, ushering Circe out of the door and past the two Death Eaters standing guard. A dim yellow glow filled the hallway, emanating from candles burning in stone alcoves and above her head on ornate chandeliers. She shuffled across a long red rug that covered the stone floor; Severus was already stood at another door waiting for her.

"Enter," he demanded tersely, pushing the large wooden door open to reveal a large stone room.

At the centre was a round and sturdy, oak wood table, its surface occupied by cauldrons of various sizes. Every wall was filled with shelves that held row upon row of vials and jars of ingredients.

"I would like you to brew me a Draught of Living Death."

"Right now?" Circe asked, a surge of anxiety gripped her chest.

Severus flicked his wand towards the wall to his left, igniting a pile of logs in the fireplace, "Yes, right now. Everything you need is here in this room. Do not try anything, I will be watching you closely."

He perched himself on the edge of a leather armchair beside the fire, his face was taut, a muscle twitched in his jaw as his eyes followed Circe across the room. She felt a queasy sense of unease, a cold shiver crept across her skin. As she browsed the shelves, she took the time to scan the rest of the room for any other doors or windows that she might be able to use later, but there was nothing.

"Time is of the essence," Severus called to her, a disapproving scowl on his face.

"I'm... I'm just trying to remember the ingredients," Circe stammered. His unrelenting gaze made her nervous.

"I didn't say you could speak, just brew," he forced out the last two words through clenched teeth.

Circe gathered what equipment and ingredients she thought she needed, hoping that she had remembered everything, knowing that failure would place her in more danger. She hesitated at the table as she struggled to recall the instructions, her hands fumbling with the cauldron and beakers in front of her. It came in brief flashbacks, memories of her sixth year in Hogwarts when Professor Slughorn had asked this very same task of the class.

When it was time to cut the Sopophorous beans, Circe grasped a silver dagger in her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Severus hold up his wand defensively. Another flash of memory forced itself to the front of her mind, one of the dark-haired boy in the class who had silently and fervently tended to his potion. She remembered the glint of the dagger as he defied the instructions in the book, crushing the beans with the flat side of his knife. Severus was up on his feet again, circling the table as Circe pushed the blade of the dagger flat against the bean, the juice running freely from the split that appeared down the middle.

Severus had drawn closer now, even as Circe still brandished the blade in a trembling hand, his wariness replaced by a cautious curiosity. Beads of sweat had formed on Circe's temples, despite the wintery weather outside, a combination of nerves and the heat from the flame beneath the cauldron. Severus remained close, enough that Circe could hear his unwavering breaths, his resolute calm was at odds with her own quiet dread.

She wanted to tell him to move, that his proximity was hindering her progress. Instead, she swallowed down her frustration and steadied herself with a few controlled breaths. As she stirred the potion, she scrambled about in her mind for what the correct colour should be.

Lilac! It should be Lilac... oh God, it's not Lilac.

Severus' hand caught her own mid-stir, "That will be all."

"But it's not finished," Circe argued, her heart racing in her chest.

"You would not have succeeded, the colour was wrong," he growled.

Circe descended into panic, she had messed up her chance. Her throat was tight, her mouth was dry, visions of Severus taking her from here and disposing of her were darting through her mind. One hand searched for the dagger on the table.

"Let me try again," she begged.

"I don't need you to try again, I have seen enough."

There was no hint of his intentions in his voice, he spoke as calmly as ever, but he let go of her hand and she dropped the stirrer into the cauldron.

"I won't let you kill me," Circe spat, her fingers curling around the handle of the dagger.

She raised her hand as quickly as she could, aiming the point of the blade towards his eye. The firelight reflected off the silver as she lurched forward, throwing her weight behind the blade. Severus didn't even raise his wand, he seized her wrist, directing her attack to the side of him. The knife slashed through his collar and nicked the skin of his neck, but he didn't even flinch. He tightened his grasp on her wrist, clenching his long fingers until she dropped the blade, kicking it away from her reach.

He forced her down onto her knees before him, "I have no intention of killing you. I needed no more proof of your abilities. Your failure to brew a Draught of Living Death has no bearing on my decision, I just needed to see you work."

Circe glared up at him, her cheeks flushed with anger, her breath felt hot on her lips.

"You will work for me. But if you ever try anything like that again, then I will kill you. You are nothing to me, you are beneath me. The next time you are in this room, I will have the Carrows keep a watchful eye, and they are not as forgiving as I am!" the venom in his voice was marked.

Circe held her tongue and clenched her jaw, she fixed her eyes upon the floor, anything she had to say to him would only anger him further.

Severus dabbed a hand at the small cut on his neck, "If you play nicely, there might be room for a pure-blood witch, such as yourself, amongst the ranks of the Dark Lord's elite. I can make that happen for you. You would be... untouchable."

Circe stayed silent, not only out of fear but also out of disbelief at his words. He genuinely thought that he could bring her into the Death Eaters, if she 'played nicely'. She almost scoffed out loud at his proposal, even if she managed to fool him into thinking that she was a dutiful assistant, she would never want to be a part of Voldemort's plans.

"I think it's time you went back to your room," he spoke softly and slowly, far too calmly for a man who'd just been threatened with a knife, "Get up."

Circe pushed herself to her feet, she still couldn't bring herself to look at him.

He marched her back to the room, his wand at her back this time. He jabbed her continuously between her shoulder blades, each prod stung more than the last. Circe wanted to turn around and scream at him, she wanted to take his wand and jab him in his stupid face.

"Trouble with your prisoner?" said one of the men at the door, his voice was gravelly with a slight accent that Circe couldn't place. She hadn't really looked at him on the way out, he was tall and thin with a mess of dark hair on his head and a closely trimmed beard.

"Nothing I can't handle, Dolohov," Severus sneered, pushing Circe through the doorway as Dolohov sniggered to himself.

The door closed with a faint click, and Severus leant up against it. Circe turned around to face him, and shivered, the bedroom felt much colder after being in the other room.

"Cold?" he asked, one eyebrow raised above his dark eyes.

Circe didn't answer, she sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. Her blue robes were stained and scuffed, her hair was knotted. She felt uncomfortable, furious and helpless all at once, she dug her fingers into her shoulders.

"You can ignore me if you like. Or... you can go for a shower, put on some clean clothes."

She glanced at him briefly, just enough for him to notice.

"I thought that might get your attention. There's a bathroom in the far corner," he pointed towards a door at the far side of the room.

Several candles in the room ignited, Circe thought that the bedroom didn't seem so unwelcoming in the soft light, there was a warmth to it now. There was a small fireplace at the foot of the bed, a framed painting of a small white cottage covered in ivy hung above the mantle. Six small cat ornaments were perched on the mantlepiece, each one facing towards a small crystal ball housed in a brass stand in the centre. There were several dark wood sets of drawers, one wardrobe, and two side tables. The carpet was a deep blue, clean and plush, it matched the voiles hung around the bed, which was made up with crisp white bedding.

"I haven't got all night," Severus interrupted, motioning for her to move.

Circe moved towards the bathroom door, slowly at first, until Severus advanced in her direction. She shot him a questioning look.

"You didn't think I was going to let you go in there alone, did you?" he said with a wry smile.

She felt the sting of tears, but she refused to cry in front of him. She opened the bathroom door, letting it swing open hard until it hit the wall.

"Try not to destroy the place," he said from behind her, pushing her into the middle of the room, "Strip."

Circe didn't move, he couldn't really be expecting her to undress in front of him, "I don't want to."

"I don't care about what you want to do. I'm telling you to strip, I don't want a filthy assistant."

Circe still didn't move.

Severus thrust his wand up against her neck, "Take off your clothes, or I will do it for you."

Circe's lip twitched and her nostrils flared, she reached up to undo the back of her dress, her hands shaking as she struggled with the small buttons. She sniffed quietly as she pulled her dress down, feeling exposed as it fell to her feet. The cold air in the bathroom made the hairs on her arms stand on end and she shivered as she stood in just her cotton underwear.

"Those too."

A fresh wave of anger flared up in her and she locked eyes with him as she yanked off her bra and knickers. The muscles in his cheeks twitched as she stood naked before him, he didn't move, he didn't look away from her, Circe didn't blink.

"Get in the shower," he demanded.

This time she moved as soon as she was told, it was obvious to her that there was no way to defy his requests, not without putting herself at risk of punishment. She tugged the shower curtain closed and turned on the water, the heat on her skin was a welcome sensation as it washed over her face.

"You have five minutes. I'll be right here," he called from the other side of the curtain.

Circe didn't care anymore, the water felt good, she felt almost normal, the shower washed away the stuffy feeling she'd had in her head since waking up on the bed. She rubbed at her skin with the soap that was on the small shower shelf, it smelled of lemon and bergamot.

"Time's up," Severus called again.

She obeyed and shut off the water, whipping the curtain back open again, "Thank you."

Severus seemed taken aback at her brazenness and her gratitude, this made Circe smile inside. She would play his game, she would behave, she would do as she was told, until he trusted her enough to drop his guard. Then she would play her own game.

He held a towel out for her, which she took without question, wrapping it around herself tightly.

"There are clean clothes on the bed for you. I have been called away, but I have people right outside of your door, so I suggest you behave."

He left her stood in bathroom as he turned on his heel and marched out, his robes billowing behind him. Before he left the bedroom, he lit a fire in the fireplace, but he didn't say another word. Circe heard the door lock a few seconds after he closed it. She waited for a few more seconds and then ran right to the window, tugging hard at it to try and slide it open, but it was locked. She ran around the room, opening every drawer and cupboard that she could see, but all she found was a potions handbook and a hairbrush. She even tried throwing the brush at the window, but it bounced off silently. She realised that he must have enchanted the glass to be unbreakable.

She threw herself onto the bed in a fit of frustration, pounding her fists into the thick duvet. She was truly trapped, and her only way out was to become the assistant of the Death Eater Severus Snape.