A/N: First things first, I want to thank Jessica ("they're all dead…they're all dead") for valiantly attempting to beta-read t
A/N: First things first, I want to thank Jessica ("they're all dead…they're all dead") for valiantly attempting to beta-read this chapter. My patience is all gone though, and I'm posting it now. Thanks anyway, P-Phunk. No pun intended (the Caesar salad). Blackletter—perhaps I am another you, I'm not sure. I am into Classical philology. Ginger—I'm going to Rhodes College! Well, read on everyone. I hope you enjoy it. Chapter Twelve

For the next few weeks, Snape avoided contact with every human being he could reasonably stay away from, save his students, whom he glared at stonily. Cassandra had often tried to speak with him, putting her hand on his arm comfortingly or leaving him a box of Chocolate Frogs at the door of his room. But he always shook her off. He had too much to think about right now. And after he had figured it all out, perhaps things would go back to normal. That was what he hoped.

As for Sylvia, he didn't need to try to avoid her. She didn't seek him out, because she had a distraction arrive a week before school ended for holiday. It came in the form of Remus Lupin, whom Snape saw walking down the hallway in patched plaid robes, carrying a large bouquet of flowers. For some reason, this sight made him want to vomit.

Finally, mercifully, the last day of school came, and Snape thought joyously how he could spend the entire holiday—alone, in his room, with no students to glare at and time to think it all through. Unfortunately, after his last class, Albus Dumbledore suddenly appeared in his room, looking concerned.

"Severus, may I talk with you?" he asked.

Snape sighed. He didn't want to talk about Sylvia, and he knew that that was what the headmaster had come for. Yet how could he refuse him?

"Please, come into my office," he said courteously, leading the older man to the cold and drab room.

Dumbledore settled down into a highly uncomfortable chair, looking completely at ease. "Professor Snape, you have seemed quite preoccupied lately. Is something troubling you?"

Snape was tempted to answer, "Yes, everything", but said instead, "Headmaster, a few weeks ago I saw Dr. Oliver's Pensieve."

Dumbledore leaned forward with interest. "And did you look inside it?" he wondered.

"Yes, I did," Snape said heavily. "It explained a lot of things to me, but I'm afraid it also left me with more questions than answers."

"Do you think you could share with me what you saw?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape sighed. "Certainly," he replied, and suddenly he was telling the headmaster everything. The words just wouldn't stop coming. "I saw Slytherin perform a spell on Sylvia…the Natalis spell, very dark and ancient magic. I remember researching it during my days…my days of previous employment. It links a person to his or her heirs. It hasn't been used for years and years; it was devised, obviously, a long time ago when mistaken heirs might come to claim a throne. But it's painful, very painful for the recipient of the spell if the heir is in pain or needs their help…" A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Albus, what if Voldemort is still alive?"

Dumbledore looked troubled. "Yes, I've thought of that myself, many times. Sylvia could lead us to him, potentially. I've never asked her about it, but I imagine that she is in pain, almost constantly. I believe he's out there, biding his time, but she knows for sure. What else did you see, Severus?"

"I saw Tom Riddle with Sylvia, and I saw her promise to help him." A question he had been burning to ask suddenly spilled out. "Why would she do that, Headmaster, why?"

The headmaster shook his head, looking weary. "It is something I do not understand. As the eldest of The Three, Severus, Sylvia senses an unbalance in Nature most keenly. And if she finds evil in overabundance, she tries to counterbalance it with good. What she did for Tom she did not because it was him, but because it was what seemed to her the good thing to do."

Snape nodded his head slowly, then thought of the first memory that had come to him from the Pensieve—Albus Dumbledore, young and obviously in love. "Headmaster, the only other memory of Sylvia's that I saw…was between you and her." He could have sworn that Dumbledore's eyes brightened.

"Is that so?" he said, smiling a bit. "I've always been told I was a handsome rogue when I was younger. What do you think, Severus?"

"Did you love her?" Snape asked point-blank, hoping to catch the man off balance. "Did you think that you were the One?" This question had been tormenting him for days.

Dumbledore then looked down, something close to defeat in his countenance. "Who wouldn't? Do you know how many men have loved that woman, Severus? How many, from centuries ago until now, thought that they must be her One and her true love? And when she tells you that you are not…it is not something easily lived with. You know, I believe that Salazar Slytherin and Tom Riddle were perhaps the only two who didn't harbor that secret delusion. They both knew they were wrong for her, but they wanted her anyway, because of the power that she held, and that she could use against them."

Snape then asked, tentatively, the question that was most important to him. "Who is the One?"

Dumbledore stared at him for a moment, something unreadable in his face, then stood heavily and answered, "That's between Sylvia and the One. Forgive me, Severus. I must go." With that, he left Snape's office, weariness showing in each of his steps.

***

By now, he had practically made a profession out of avoiding Lupin and Sylvia, and he had come up with what he thought were excuses of high caliber. After all, the weather was too cold for them to jog, and certainly too cold for her to work on her archeological site. He didn't have to see Grayson in class and he assumed that the boy had gone home for the holidays to see Ulysses. Still, he had to admit that he missed his philosophical discussions with Socrates' daughter.

But most importantly, Sylvia and Lupin were gone for a week, into Muggle London, to spend a few days "living as Muggles" for the fun of it. He found this out from the pretty, blonde-haired Sophie, the youngest of the Three, whom he ran into one afternoon in the hallway.

"Good afternoon, Professor," she said cheerfully.

He had mistaken her at first for one of his students. "Ah, yes…" he said quizzically, looking her over and trying to remember who she was.

"It's Sophia St. Paul," she said promptly, shaking his hand. "I am one of Dr. Oliver's associates." His face must have darkened visibly, for she then added, "Is something troubling you about Dr. Oliver, Professor Snape?"

"Everything," he admitted.

"Let's talk for a moment," she said, gesturing to an empty classroom. "I know it must be hard for you, Professor Snape. After all, we have all had our little flings. Rosamund is the exception—she says she wants to remain chaste for her One, but I think it was because of…well, I suppose I shouldn't tell you."

"Please, continue," he said politely, his ears pricked for gossip.

She sighed, and sat down in one of the desks. "Rosamund is different. She's confused. After being rejected by a man, she grew to hate them. I think she told Sylvia about it, expecting to find commiseration and…and companionship. Sylvia says that Rosamund tried to—how do you say?—make a move on her."

"Really," he said, whistling. Cassandra (he thought of her with a sharp pang) had been right; there was enough dirt here to fill books upon books.

"But that wasn't what I wanted to speak to you about. I know it's hard for you to look at Sylvia and not see all the other men who have been with her. But what you have to understand is—"

"Miss St. James, I appreciate your concern," he said crisply, turning as if to leave. "But I have to inquire as to why you're telling me this. Certainly you don't think that I am romantically interested in Dr. Oliver."

Sophie's jaw dropped. "You mean you didn't…she didn't…great Zeus! Please, Professor, don't mention to her that we talked. I didn't know that you…I'm sorry…please just—"

"I won't mention anything to her," he snapped. "I'm not inclined to want to talk to her ever again."

Sophie's eyes widened. "Really? But surely Professor…"

"She has been deceitful towards me, Miss St. James, and I cannot tolerate that. I will not tolerate that," he repeated as he stalked out of the room, ruing ever having gotten into this strange conversation with the youngest of the Three. He personally found Rosamund the most appealing at this moment, no matter what the other two thought of her. She was the loner, and he could sympathize with that.

***

Slowly, Snape was coming to terms with it all. It may have been a long road, but he thought he was certainly ready to see Cassandra again, and he might even bring himself to speak with Sylvia, if Lupin wasn't lurking around her like the overprotective werewolf that he was.

With a deep breath, he proceeded towards the Divination tower, and felt his heartbeat picking up. He hoped Cassandra would forgive him for his weeks of silence, and he was sure she would. She was an understanding person, after all. He now even wondered how he had been able to survive all these weeks without her, and was overcome with desire.

He knocked on her door a bit nervously, and was relieved to hear her yell, "Come on in! It's open."

But when he walked in, a very un-relieving sight met his eyes. Almost all of Cassandra's things had been packed up, and it looked as if she was moving out of the room.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" he asked. It was a stupid question. She wouldn't have uprooted her entire room if she were planning on coming back.

"I'm leaving, Severus, and I won't be back," she said calmly, her green eyes unruffled.

"But why? And what about Divination class?" he asked, staring at her in what he knew must be a rather idiotic manner.

"Sibyll will be coming back to teach it," she replied, folding up some clothes and placing them in a trunk.

"I thought it was a bad year for her," Snape said before he could stop himself. He still remembered when Cassandra had told the faculty why she had come to Hogwarts. It was a day he had thought he would never forget, and that he could perhaps have told his grandchildren about—the day when the two of them met.

"That…was a lie, Severus," Cassandra answered honestly, although it seemed hard for her to say it. "I went to Sibyll and asked her to take the year off. I wanted to come to Hogwarts for reasons not limited to Divination."

"Please don't tell me this has anything to do with Sylvia," he moaned. Just when he thought he had it all neatly categorized, yet another reference to Dr. Oliver was not what he needed. And why did everything have to be connected to her? Was she really the center of the universe? Was she that super-human that Nietzsche had spoken of? And, most importantly, what would Friedrich have said if he had met her? Would he have been as shocked as Snape had when he heard the story of the eldest of the Three?

"Severus," Cassandra said, bringing him back from his philosophical musings, and he looked up at her, a little embarrassed to have been so swept away. "I came here to gather information for my book on Andromache."

"So it is about her," he confirmed, trying to control a sudden surge of anger. "And now you've gathered all the information you need, and you were just going to leave without a second thought of me?" He didn't know he could be so angry. In days that now seemed long ago, he remembered frequent outbursts like this, and he also remembered the ways that he would vent his anger. Many an innocent had been punished for the anger of Severus Snape, and he idly wondered what would happen this time.

Cassandra looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I haven't finished my book," she admitted. "Andromache knew about it, but she…she didn't approve of my methods of obtaining knowledge."

"What did you do?" Snape asked with horror, wondering what could be so awful.

She turned away from him. "I can't tell you, Severus. If you're so intent on knowing, you should ask her. But it's time for me to go. Please, leave me."

"Cassandra!" he said desperately. "What about us? I thought you loved me. I thought…I thought I loved you." He said the end quietly, feeling defeated. Everyone that he had ever loved had turned away from him. He was beginning to think that he must have some sort of disease.

"I'm sorry, Severus" was all she said, and she shut the door in his face, leaving the Potions Master alone with his thoughts and his disease.

***

Geez, Snape just got totally shut down. Sorry for any of you hopeless Cassandra/Sevy romantics. Oh, I am also posting "Shivered Glass", my new Lupin/Sylvia fic that explains how they met…kind of. Please read and review! I would like to thank all my normal reviewers (please refer to Chapter Eleven if you don't know who you are) and I would also like to thank my new reviewers: Anna, Magdalen, Ginger Donahue, Kissaki, Firebrand, and Bunny! Oh, and a special thanks to kateydidnt, whom I forgot last chapter. I love you all! J