February 1, 1976 - Hogwarts
Under the pretense of an evening stroll, Severus and her trapsised out onto the castle grounds. The sky was already growing dark, casting their surroundings in a gloomy light, and the outpouring of snow that had deluged Scotland for the past three days was unrelenting. Nevertheless, following the revelations of Dumbledore's all-pervasive interest in their activities, their desire for privacy was worth the odd looks they'd received.
They did not speak until the school was out of sight. Too many times they'd underestimated the Headmaster's interest and ability, and even now their freedom from interference was far from guaranteed. Still, Cassiopeia had insisted to Severus that this was important, and with a few reassurances he'd ultimately agreed.
"Dumbledore's been reading my letters," Cassiopeia spoke without preamble, once they had almost reached the boundary of the gates. "He knows I've been communicating with the Dark Lord."
"Yes."
"I can't just stop writing to him," she continued, beginning to pace in front of Severus as though she were a lecturer. "I don't even think I should."
"Probably not," he agreed easily, then frowned. "Actually, don't take me at my word. A few months ago, Dumbledore placed a suggestion in my mind - to encourage you to further communicate with him - and I have no way to tell if that's been broken."
She whirled to face him in surprise. "He did what - ? " she asked, eyes stormy. "I'm going to kill him. He has no right - no right!"
"I agree with the sentiment," Severus added, amused. "Though perhaps later?" he added, glancing pointedly towards the parchment clutched in her hand.
"You're right," she muttered, brushing her windblown hair from her face. "Well, do you have any ideas? He's monitoring my owls, there's enchantments on the school to prevent displacement spells, the house-elves are bound to him, the gates are - "
"You said the house-elves are bound to him," Severus interrupted.
"Yes, it was in Hogwarts: A History. What of it?"
"Do you think - would it be possible to call Tully here?"
She furrowed her brows. "There's probably spells preventing house-elves from entering… I guess I can try, though." She took a deep breath, a frisson of hope sparking in her chest, "Tully!"
They waited in tense anticipation for a moment, but the elf did not appear. "Damn."
"Well - "
"Is Mistress wanting something?"
Cassiopeia froze, taking a half-step forward towards the gates. "...Tully?" she asked in a low voice, illuminating her wand in an effort to better make out the dark shape which had appeared. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Mistress," spoke the excited voice, barely audible from beyond the wrought-iron bars. "Tully was wanting to come closer, but was being stopped by the magic. What is Mistress calling Tully for?"
Cassiopeia glanced at her companion, who shrugged unhelpfully, and came closer to the gates. "...Well, Tully, if you're here... I was wondering if you'd be able to pass on my letter to someone. It's really important to me that he receives it."
With her wand-light she was just able to make out the elf's shining eyes as she nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Tully will be happy to."
Cassiopeia smiled, kneeling carefully onto the snow-covered ground. "Thank you," she said, and slipped the letter through the iron slits, and into the elf's waiting arms. The parchment passed undisturbed, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Who will Mistress be needing Tully to give this letter to?"
"The Dark Lord," she answered, wincing as she stood from the cold ground. "He lives with the Malfoys - do you know him?"
"Yes, Mistress," the elf responded. "Tully has seen him when she has been visiting Dobby."
"Good," she smiled, then tilted her head, eyeing the garishly green wool encircling her neck. "...Do those visits have anything to do with your new scarf?"
Tully ducked her head, her cheeks flushing. "It is nothing, Mistress. Dobby is only reminding Tully how to be making things for her Mistress, and giving her a scarf as a reminder."
Cassiopeia laughed lightly, shaking her head. "I understand. Well, then, give my regards to him. And thank you again."
"No problem, Mistress. Tully is happy to help," she smiled brightly, then disappeared with a pop.
Cassiopeia turned to Severus, who had been observing the whole interaction from afar.
"I still can't believe that worked - thank you," she said, walking closer to him, and rubbing her frostbitten fingers. "Tully seems better, no?"
"She does," he conceded easily, mindlessly retrieving his wand, and casting a warming charm on her icy hands. "Ready to go back?"
February 9, 1976 - Hogwarts
Severus stirred the ending stage of the Blood-Replenisher absently, desperately looking forward to finally emerging from the hot, humid interior of his potions lab. In the last three hours he'd mass-produced three distinct brews, his first foray into simultaneous brewing just yesterday having proven a resounding success.
Still, though, this wasn't the type of work he truly enjoyed, and he couldn't quite keep his thoughts on the cauldron in front of him - more so focused on the purpose these potions would serve rather than their creation.
The Duelling Club was certainly far more than he'd expected. More intense, more sanguinary, more unscrupulous - but none of these less-than-seemly attributes had ever truly repelled him. The first time he'd been slashed bloody, while painful as all hell, had also been exhilarating, and the adrenaline rushing through him had been enough to make his head spin. It was an eerie thought, equally disturbing and fascinating.
Nonetheless, he was not without misgivings. The entire operation, if it could be called as such, depended on secrecy, and on its members' ability to conceal their involvement. Normally this would not be difficult - Severus had long observed that Dumbledore tended to eschew involvement with the Slytherins - but curiosity-fulfilling Legilimency 'sessions' were not exactly conducive to secret-keeping. It was a wonder the Headmaster had not already discovered memories of it while rifling through his mind.
It did motivate his further learning, however, though continuing in it was not always easy. Occlumency was difficult, frustrating, and although at first he'd taken to it like a fish to water, the further abilities - distraction, and the creation of false memories especially - were incredibly difficult for him to put into practice, if not to grasp.
Which is unfortunate, Severus thought, decanting the finished brew into sixteen small vials - enough, hopefully, to sustain the club's needs for the next two or three meetings.
He liked to pride himself on his work, on his abilities - Merlin knew the other facets of himself were lacking - and so to fail in something so ostensibly easy was… a little more than a small blow to his ego. Still, he hoped that working with Cassiopeia would aid in his own endeavours, especially as she too progressed in her abilities.
While she did not seem to possess quite the same inclination as him, already she had learned the more basic of blocking techniques - something which would usually necessitate more than three short sessions. This connection between them - in their natural ability - had bothered him for some time, before the realisation had been made: growing up as they had had laid the foundations for future success in the field.
He would have traded all of it away in an instant, of course, but he supposed it was enlightening to see that his experiences had not only been disadvantageous.
Perhaps there are other avenues that they have benefitted... he thought, mind turning immediately to the club, before he immediately dismissed the notion. Following a long deliberation, he'd informed Cassiopeia of his involvement, and she had been supportive, but uninterested.
'I have my Apprenticeship, and you have your Duelling Club. And I'm happy for you that you do,' had been her exact words.
Perhaps he could convince her yet, but he knew he wouldn't waste much effort trying.
Severus breathed deeply, willing his heart rate to slow. His hands shook as he came down from the adrenaline-high of the duel, a smirk on his face as he eyed his opponent picking themselves up from the floor. It had been a close one, but he'd still won, and with only a couple of burns across his legs to show for it.
Wincing slightly, he made his way to the first-aid pile, Yaxley thankfully calling for the end of the fighting as he did. While magic made most wounds easily treatable, and ultimately inconsequential, it unfortunately did nothing to stop the pain associated. Quickly, he snatched a jar of self-produced cooling cream, and trudged away to a semi-isolated corner of the room, before carefully applying it onto his injuries. He breathed in relief as it numbed the fiery sting.
"Hey, Snape."
Shafiq disturbed his peace, settling herself gracefully on the floor in front of him. She rested her chin against her hands, and nodded towards the paste. "Those brews are good - very good. Ten galleons for a quality love potion?"
Severus sighed, feeling like he should have definitely expected this. But at least he wouldn't have to beg Lucius for money for dress robes. "Twenty."
She snorted. "Twelve."
"And you pick the moonflowers."
"I'm shit at Herbology, Snape," she responded blithely. "Fourteen."
"Fine," he bit out, picking himself up from the floor. "When?"
"Morning of the fourteenth," she responded with a gleaming smile, standing as well. "I've got some… interesting plans."
February 12, 1976 - Hogwarts
"Almost," Minerva praised, observing carefully the sheer cloth she'd produced. "Try one more time."
One-on-one education, which was the cornerstone of apprenticeship, had not been very easy to adjust to. With the professor's full attention on her work, the smallest mistake was almost immediately recognised, and every transformation had to be practiced until perfection.
Fortunately, Minerva was also a good taskmaster: strict, but full of genuine praise. The challenges she set for her were demanding, and in turn exhilarating to complete.
"Perfect," the older witch smiled, running the fabric through her fingers to check for any imperfections. "You're getting better, Cassiopeia."
"Thank you," she responded, and to conceal her blush set about tidying the office - picking up scrap wooden pieces, and bits of imperfect white cloth.
A minute or two later, everything had been restored to cleanliness, and Cassiopeia hesitated at the door. "Professor - "
"Yes, lass?" she asked from her desk, with a hint of surprise. Usually, Cassie was eager to get away after these sessions, and back to her dormitory to sleep off the spell-exhaustion.
"Well, I was wondering - we've been working with fabrics, and I was hoping you'd agree to help me adjust my dress-robes. I've been invited to Professor Slughorn's party… "
"Ah, I was wondering when he would," McGonagall responded with a smile. "Well, I can't let you go looking less than your best - it's tomorrow, right? - why don't you go and get your robes, and we'll see what we can do."
All-but-running through the corridors, she managed to do so in only a few minutes, just narrowly escaping the patrolling Mr. Filch's grasp.
"Here they are," she announced to the professor breathlessly, laying in the older witch's arms a mass of silver silk.
McGonagall looked amused as she laid out the robes on her desk, noting their loose cut, and abundant embroidery.
"I've been trying my best to bring the seam in, but I'm not the best at household-type spells," Cassiopeia admitted, ducking her head slightly.
"I won't fault you for not grasping them yet," the professor responded, bringing out her wand. She hovered it over the material, then very carefully began to move her wand inward. "Many people dismiss them as easy spells - witches' spells - but the precision they require…" she trailed off, brow furrowing in concentration, "... is oftentimes greater than that of traditional magic. There."
With a flick of her wand, the robes wrapped themselves around Cassiopeia's body, giving the distinct illusion that they were being worn.
"You'll look lovely," she said with a fond smile, bringing the dress away. "You know…" she trailed off, shaking her head.
"Hmm?"
"I'm just thinking that you've grown so much - I still can't believe you only have two and a half years left at this school…" she smiled. "Look at me, I'm getting sentimental in my old age. Go on, Cassiopeia, get some sleep. Goodnight, lass."
•••
As always, thank you to everyone for reading, and to SilentMayhem, and Stephanie MRV. I don't think I greatly succeeded in my endeavour of lengthening the chapters this time, but I am working on it. Have a wonderful week :)