August 2, 1976 – McGonagall Manor

Cassiopeia,

How elusive you have been this summer. Do you think yourself a bird, flitting this way and that — never settling? Beware if you do, I have never been a man satisfied with such weak convictions. Do you seek not to execute my will – do your loyalties wane?

Narcissa assures me you are merely occupied with your apprenticeship and that you have not meant to keep away, but she is one who likes to sweeten her words and I have heard not a word from you.

I would wish then, to see you on the fourteenth. I will be returning from my travels, and shall be displeased should you choose not to attend.

"Ma won't be happy," Severus spoke, folding the parchment closed. He tossed it away from him, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

She'd been upset enough when he'd written that he was staying with Cassiopeia longer than expected. Regardless, a summons from the Dark Lord could not go unanswered, and no matter their current disagreements, he would not leave her vulnerable to the wizard's wrath.

"No she won't be," Cassiopeia agreed. She lay her head on the sofa back, her eyes closing. "But she'll let you go. Even if she doesn't know everything, she's not stupid enough to actually stop you."

"Not that I'm going to tell her," he said after a pause. "She'll know I'm in Malfoy Manor, but the rest – is unnecessary."

She seemed to sense the hesitation in his last words, and spoke. He felt his gaze on her, like a tangible heat, even as his eyes remained resolutely fixed in front of him. "It's your decision, Severus. I won't fault you for it – no-one will, whatever you choose."

"It's better off if she doesn't know. She's got a lot to deal with, regardless. No use adding to her stress when there's nothing she can do about it.

"Have you asked Minerva again?" Severus asked suddenly, his hand stilling on the bookshelf he'd been perusing. "It's one thing I could be useful for, since I'm staying here."

Cassiopeia closed the textbook she was reading, sighing. "I did, but she seemed reluctant. If she accepts though, I'd appreciate the help… The basic shields I can teach, but moving beyond that… there's still areas where I'm struggling on my own."

"We could continue your own lessons, if you want," he offered cautiously, and she could see in the rising flush on his neck that he was remembering the last lesson they had – the one which had made him unable to look her in the face for a week. "It would be good for you to at least reinforce the protection before we leave, if not more."

"I'd be grateful for it," she responded kindly. She'd worried he'd be unwilling to teach her more – too embarrassed by what he'd seen – but in truth she was glad, ultimately, that the incident had occurred. There was less fear now, in accidentally revealing something to him. He knew her childhood, knew her anxieties and faults, knew her desires – or at least some of them. There seemed little else to hide.

Severus seemed relieved when she accepted, a little of the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He paused for a second, his next words muttered. "I'll try not to see… things like that again."

"Were you trying to last time?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"No, of course not," he hastened to reassure her, and she couldn't suppress the upturn of her lips, before she broke down into laughter.

Seeming to realise his actions, Severus scowled at her, and she couldn't help the fondness that bloomed within her at his sight of his face.

"Are you certain, Professor?"

Cassiopeia and he sat in the living room, sharing the sofa. Before the three of them rested cups of tea – fortification for the long, uncomfortable process ahead.

The professor had added a splash of alcohol to hers, and it seemed to ease her nerves – bringing a little colour back to her pale, drawn face.

"I am," she spoke, inclining her head. "I didn't realise before how irresponsible I'd been, not even attempting to protect my mind. I didn't even try," she said, her brows furrowing.

They exchanged a knowing glance before Cassiopeia spoke: "I don't suppose Dumbledore ever discouraged you from it?"

Minerva's eyes grew unfocused for a second, before she hissed in a breath. "Why he did, the bastard. I remember — why couldn't I before? He told me I'd be badly suited to it — that there was no use in trying."

In the silence that followed her revelation, real pain seemed to envelop Minerva's face, and she ran her hand through her loose hair, closing her eyes as though distressed. "I thought I could trust him. We were… if not friends, then close colleagues — he seemed to want the best for me."

Severus could not offer her much comfort. "He is… good at showing a persona, Professor. Good at manipulating your emotions, your – memories."

Cassiopeia leaned over to him, her breath slight and warm against his skin. "Will you tell her? She just needs a little more," she murmured, just barely audible.

Severus raised his eyes to hers when she pulled away, seeing the seriousness there, the conviction.

"Last year," he said, his voice too loud in the quiet of the room. "The Headmaster read my mind every month, oftentimes more. He would… force himself inside, without my consent, taking no care even to leave my mind undamaged. He'd obliviate me afterwards, to make certain I could tell no-one."

Minerva looked to him in horror. "He – " she had no words.

"I only resisted the spell due to my shields, and even then it worked the first time. Afterwards, I'd just have to deal with the pain of it," he set his jaw, remembering. "It feels like a chemical burn. Like acid. It tries to scour the memory from your mind, and if it can't get to it it turns on everything else."

"Mr. Snape – Severus… words cannot describe – oh, god…why?" Minerva asked, desperation in her voice. "Why would he do that?"

"He wanted information on Cassiopeia, on Lucius, on our classmates," he shrugged. "And it seems he didn't care how he was going to get it."

"I – "

"Do you see, Master, why it's imperative that you learn?" Cassiopeia cut in gently. "However unfortunate it is, there are those on both sides who would do you harm, whether consciously or not. I want to make sure that they can't."

"Yes – yes, of course. I understand. But, child – it is not you who should be worried over my wellbeing. I already mourn that I have not done enough to protect you two."

"But you have, Professor, in many ways. Think of this, if you will, as our show of gratitude."

"I cannot believe I ever thought – ... thank you. You are more forgiving than you should be."

Cassiopeia shook her head slightly. "Are you prepared then, Master?"

The witch nodded, and Severus raised his wand to her temple.

"Legilimens."

August 5, 1976 – McGonagall Manor

They had discussed, before the first lesson, what would happen if Severus saw a memory Minerva did not wish him to see. Obliviation had been decided upon at first, and he'd readily agreed – ignoring the twinge of anxiety that ran through him at the thought.

Yet when Minerva had raised her wand to him – the memory of a young girl, desperate for approval, watching as her parents were driven apart by magic in his mind – he had almost refused: had been seconds from doing it.

It was Minerva, however, who'd lowered her wand. She'd explained that knowing the harm that had come to him at the Headmaster's hands, she could not bring herself to continue it.

He'd been unbelievably grateful, even if he did not show it, perhaps more so that he was saved the explanation. He'd thought the ordeal'd had little effect on him, but seeing that raised wand, the words forming on her lips, had brought an awful, sinking feeling to his stomach, and a tightness to his chest that clawed at his throat, cutting his breath.

He hated it – hated that this was a weakness for him. He knew he already had too many – now, it was yet another to add to the ways of exploiting him, of controlling him. He would have to train himself out of it, like he had of his fear of darkness when he'd been young, but he feared the process it would entail: yet another fault of his.

He could only be grateful that there were just two weaknesses he could never control – even if he sometimes wished they did not have such a hold on him. Yet when he looked at his life objectively, or as closely to it as he could, he was certain that his life would be utterly miserable, – or much worse – without them.

August 6, 1976 – Déchant Townhouse

"This isn't really a relationship now, is it?"

Following the attack, most of their meetings had been spent practicing spells, a kind of underlying desperation between them. Exhausted afterwards, oftentimes she could not muster the energy for more than giving him a quick release with her hand, or allowing him to do the same. He did not seem to begrudge her for it.

Cailean turned to her on the bed. "You seem to know more than me, Cassiopeia, regarding upcoming events. If you're worried, I want to make certain you're prepared for them."

"No, I'm… unbelievably grateful for your help," she reassured him. "I'm just… angry, I guess, that I can't have something – nice for once in my life."

He hummed his understanding, the sound rumbling in his chest. "It sounds like a platitude, I know," he said after a while, "but I do believe that ultimately things get better. I couldn't have finished my apprenticeship if I allowed myself to get mired in the negativity of it. It was difficult – very difficult – at first, but I did adjust to it over time."

She laughed humourlessly. "That's the thing. I don't want to have to get used to it. When I was younger I thought about escaping to Hogwarts – leaving the horror of my life and starting anew. But there's no escape, is there? From the evil that consumes the world."

"No. But that's part of why I became a healer – to do my part to combat it."

"You're a better person than I am."

August 10, 1976 – McGonagall Manor

'Control your emotions,' Severus commanded, his voice echoing in the cavernous darkness of her mind. His presence pushed against her shields, and she fought to build them up, to stop the cracks that were beginning to form. 'Discipline your mind.'

The walls shattered with a final push, but she was ready for his intrusion. A year ago, the destruction of her primary defence would have left her completely vulnerable, but she had learnt much since then.

Memories of her lessons with Minerva flew to the forefront of her mind – nights spent pouring over thick Arithmancy texts, attempts – successful and not – of putting the spells into practice. Severus seized at the failures, at the feelings of inadequacy that accompanied them, taking them as stepping stones into memories which evoked the same feelings.

In the last moment, she blocked his view of her Animagus transformation, though merely through the use of a crude shield, which he quickly pushed past.

'You must move away from those,' he echoed, his attack continuing. 'The Dark Lord will know you are hiding things from him.'

The wizard's name caused a barrage of memories to fly forward, but she allowed most of them to touch him. Distracted for a moment, Severus examined them, and she took the moment to hide under lock and key the ones she could never allow him to see, concealing them behind a swarm of boring, safe memories of her everyday life.

She was about to fill the rest of her mind with memories of a similar nature, to make certain that her hiding spot was inconspicuous, when Severus turned his attention back to her – at once seizing on what he immediately recognised as a distraction.

He flicked away the normal memories with ease, even as she tried to trap him in them – bringing before him the memory of his last intrusion on her mind: the fantasy he had seen. He paused only for a half-second before he threw it from him as well, and was soon at the heart of her mind.

She saw him slowing down here, moving more delicately. She knew well that the centre of her consciousness was the most vulnerable, and she watched cautiously as he explored it, seeming – at first – to ignore the memories stored at her very core.

She did not make the mistake of letting down her guard, but even the force of her entire mind could not stop his sudden, single-minded attack.

The screams melded together into one continuous, horrific cry of pain. She could not stop herself from looking at the boy; could not stop seeing his wide, accusing eyes – even as his face was drenched in blood, and his skin mutilated with wounds.

She grit her teeth against his intrusion, and she thought there was a sense of apology from his presence before Severus continued onwards, barrelling past her defence.

The screams echoed in her head, long after he'd lost the ability to make any sound. Only perverse, demented laughter now filled the room; unending as Bellatrix revelled in her work, in the horror and the pain.

She sensed the memory that would come next, shielding it with all her strength. Severus paused in front of the barrier she had erected and instead of pushing past it, like she had thought he simply – willed it to turn to dust. It dematerialised before her eyes, unleashing the memory she'd fought so hard to restrain.

The Dark Lord knelt at her side. "What is the matter?" he asked, making his voice soft.

…She awoke on a soft, plush sofa, covered with a heavy, rough blanket. The room around her smelled lightly of bergamot and coffee – an intoxicating, heady scent – and it took her a moment to rouse herself from sleep, and realise where she was. When she did, she froze in terror, panic shooting through her bones.

'Enough.' She slammed the memory shut, the sound reverberating through her mind.

Severus moved away from it, and, seeming to take in the emotions, acquiesced. Seconds later, they were back in her rooms, their breathing ragged.

"It was an accident," she spoke first, when her heart stopped feeling as though it were about to jump from her chest. "I was going to make the concealment uniform, so that it wasn't so conspicuous."

"A good idea."

"I'll be working more on my strength of will too, so that you can't simply manipulate my visualisation."

"Yes."

"...Severus?"

He turned from her a little, so she could only see the profile of his face, framed against the sunset outside. "You know that was manipulation, don't you? Being kind – letting you stay in his rooms?"

"I'm not an idiot. Of course."

"Why did you take so much care to conceal it, then?"

"Outside of the fact it was tied to the other memory you saw?" she replied, a little harshly. "Maybe I thought you might judge me for it – might think less of me. It certainly seems like it with the way you're acting."

He furrowed his brow for a second. "No. No, it's not your fault. I just – thought you might have fallen for it."

"Such faith in your friend's intelligence, Mr. Snape," she replied flatly, unable to stop the hurt from piercing her.

"I didn't mean – I was worried. It's just that."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know that, but –"

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"If you're worried, you can tell me outright next time, instead of acting like a standoffish twat."

"Alright," Severus acknowledged with the barest hint of a smile. "Sorry. Ready for another round?"

She steeled herself before meeting his eyes. "Yes."

August 14, 1976 – Malfoy Manor

"I don't think he'll keep me for long. A few days at most, I would assume," she explained, standing in front of Cailean. "But if he does, or something else happens – "

She cursed the moisture in her eyes, even as she allowed the wizard to embrace her, holding her body tightly to his own.

"I'll miss you."

"And I will as well," he murmured in reply. "But try not to let him get to you, and you'll be alright. If you come back before I leave, we'll go out and do something fun. And if you don't, I'll send you a beautiful present at Hogwarts. How does that sound?"

She laughed slightly, shaking her head. "That sounds lovely. Thank you."

Giving a nod, Cal disapparated, leaving Severus and her standing in front of the gates, neither willing to make a move to open them.

They savoured the last few moments of peace and quiet they would have, before they had to face the reality they'd been avoiding for so long.

"Cassiopeia, Severus – it's good to see you," Narcissa smiled, when they reached the door, though it did not reach her eyes. "Come inside."

They stepped into the Manor, taking in the cold, grim atmosphere that seemed to envelop it.

A delighted, maniacal voice pierced the stillness, its shrill tone echoing through the home. "And who do we have here?"