Chapter 12: "Till now, I always got by on my own."

Minerva dressed solemnly after a worried night's sleep. She had tossed and turned through till the wee hours, listening out for any noise or sound that seemed alien in Hogwarts. Sheer exhaustion had eventually taken over and she fell into a troubled sleep, dreaming not of cats mounted on lantern hooks, but the lifeless bodies of students under her care.

The events on the Second Floor the previous evening had rattled her. It was disturbing, to say the least. Regardless of whoever was responsible for the horrid tableau, student or supernatural, it had rattled her otherwise sedate cool. As she pinned her hat to her head, she listened out once again for the stirrings of life from Circe's side of the quarters. When all she heard was the deafening ticking of her alarm clock, she sighed and entered the bathroom. She walked over to Circe's entrance and knocked on the door.

"Circe? Are you awake? It's gone half-past seven…"

No answer came.

Minerva frowned, recalling that she'd not heard even the tiniest noise from her friendly neighbor all night as she'd been straining her ears, lying in the dark. It was certainly odd that Circe was not up and about considering it was the morning before a busy day of teaching. Normally she ran into Circe at least once in their shared bathroom, door wide open, as she grabbed a hairbrush or was finishing brushing her teeth. Mornings were always hectic for teachers, yet they still found time for a friendly good morning and a gossip. Silence either meant that Circe was ill or was not in her bed at all...

It was possible that Circe was awake and gone from their quarters already, eagerly awaiting Dumbledore's emergency Staff meeting this morning. But Minerva was a light sleeper on normal nights, she would have heard her moving about, however quiet she had been. She threw her shawl around her shoulders and tried to keep calm, going in search of Circe.

She did not have to search for long. As she rounded a corner near the Staff Room, she bumped forcefully into what appeared to be a wall of books. The pile of paper exclaimed and crumpled to the ground with the impact. Pages fluttered around her like a flurry of feathers. Minerva reeled back as the paper settled, revealing the equally startled face of Circe. She looked frantic, still dressed in what she had been wearing last night, albeit with her mascara smeared unceremoniously under her eyes from rubbing at them all evening.

"Good Lord, Circe. Have you been in the Library all night?"

"Well… yes." Circe started gathering her dropped books and manuscripts back into her arms. "Dumbledore wanted me to present my findings at the meeting this morning."

"And have you gone to bed at all this night?" she asked her.

Circe shook her head. "I had to start. The Headmaster wanted to see us all this morning, I had to come with something!"

"Good Lord, I thought I didn't hear you come in. I was worried for ye when I didn't hear a solitary peep from you this morning. Let's get a coffee into you my dear."

Minerva took a few books from her arms to share her load. She spoke the password to the knights on guard outside of the Staff Room, and the two women entered to an already buzzing space. Teachers are normally sedate and singular in the mornings, rushing to and fro with their own tasks, heads down, no interruptions. Now, everyone was a-chatter, milling around the room, all at sea. A few faces flitted to Minerva and Circe as they entered, quickly going back to their conversations when they saw that neither of them were the Headmaster they eagerly awaited.

Minerva lay down Circe's books on a nearby chair and Circe soon followed suit. As Mcgonagall hurried off to see to a coffee, Circe dropped heavily into the chair adjacent to her pile of books. She felt a little nauseous in the garish daylight. The final dregs of adrenaline that had got her through the long night were beginning to wear off. She rubbed at her eyes absentmindedly again, sending another black smear of mascara onto the back of her hand. Her head spun as the noise around her danced about her ears. She was lost in her heady drowsiness and the swirling words that she'd read in the night. She almost missed the sound of someone clearing their throat.

She looked up to see Severus hovering expectantly over her. His eyes flicked towards the piled books and papers on the chair beside her.

"Oh, sorry Severus." She mumbled, moving them onto the floor.

"Long night?" He asked, eyeing up her amassed research.

"Indeed."

"Find anything important?"

"Uhh well…"

Minverva moved to her side and waved a cup in front of her face. Circe took it gratefully and blew on its surface. Severus moved to get up from his seat to give it to Minerva.

"No no!" She stopped him, waving him down. "You stay put, there's plenty of seating elsewhere. Severus, she's yours to look after now."

He coloured red at the remark and Minerva turned her back on the couple with a wry smirk on her face.

Circe rolled her eyes, almost calling back to Minerva that she didn't need anyone to look after her. She'd pulled plenty all-nighters when she'd been at University with her course-mates, all camped around a table together, sharing energy drinks and sugary snacks in the concrete monstrosity that was Edinburgh University's library. All furiously working on the same assignment, sharing references and points of insight. They'd turn their papers in to the faculty at six the next morning, just as dawn crept through the Library windows and then go have a celebratory full Scottish breakfast at The Station Arms. Although, the life of a student had afforded her the luxury of sleeping during the day. Now as a woman of employ, Circe knew that this time of day, early in the morning, wasn't the issue; exhaustion would hit at around five in the afternoon when the creeping nausea would get worse and she'd start feeling oddly emotional. The coffee too wouldn't really wake her up, just make her feel more wired and jittery. Yet, she still felt that even if Minerva ushered her off to bed then and there, she'd struggle to fall asleep. Her research had turned up much...

"Hey, Severus. Look what I found last night." Circe called to him playfully.

He looked back to Circe, a similarly wicked grin to Minerva's on her face too. She placed her coffee down and picked up a book from the floor. Opening the cover, she pulled out an old photograph which she'd placed safely within its pages. She held it up to Severus and giggled.

"Oh Lord…"

Severus wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. His eyes widened and he felt the blood rush to his face anew. There in Circe's hand was a picture of the Slug Club circa 1977. The group of young witches and wizards posed with Slughorn, perhaps at one of his parties or gatherings, all smiling brightly in their dapper gear. Apart from, of course, him; on the end of the picture, his face hidden by long, greasy black curtains of hair, looking very much like an awkward, gangly little prat.

"How old are you there?" Circe asked, flicking the photo back towards her to look at the image again.

"Seventeen." He gripped the arms of the chair, as if holding on for dear life.

Circe smiled and chuckled a touch at his obvious discomfort.

"Where did you find it?" he asked.

"In the restricted section. Last night. All of the past and present student records are kept there. Sensitive information, you see."

"Obviously you used your special access appropriately then…" Severus added sardonically.

"It was actually a bit of a filing error. Quite a few items for 'Slughorn, Horace' have been mistakenly placed with 'Slytherin, Salazar'. I'll have to let the Librarian know."

"Oh I see…"

"Still, it gave me quite the light-hearted break from my research last night." Circe smiled again, losing herself in the old, faded faces in the photograph. She traced the edge of her thumb over Severus's face and sighed. "You know, I don't think you've changed much."

"Wonderful. Just what everybody wishes to hear when compared to a school photo of themselves…"

"No, I think it's good. It means you're a constant. You have been you since way back when." She looked up to Severus, his face set in a quizzical frown. "Did I make sense?"

"No."

She laughed and sighed deeply. She took another sip of her coffee and placed the picture back under the cover of a book.

"I'm rather surprised you were not in the 'Slug Club'." Severus stated, desperate to move the conversation away from his time in school. "Quidditch player, music aficionado, Duelling champion…"

Circe groaned, realising just how much of her and Gilderoy's conversation he must have overheard last night. That drama seemed like years ago to her now. Had it only been a few hours back?

"I was for a bit. But Myron convinced me to stop going. He said it was social suicide and...y'know… that wouldn't have been good for 'the band'." She waggled her fingers in the air in mock quotations.

Severus rolled his eyes, thinking how right she was about the Slug Club. He thought cynically that he might have done the same if only he'd had a social life to sabotage.

"I don't think he held out much hope for me after I let him know I was off to a muggle University either. Think my photograph was banished to the back shelves after that."

"I believe mine too was placed in a similar location." Severus added, resting his cheek on his hand.

"Well, I think it's better to be at the back. It's more liberating to be…"

"Disappointing?" He ventured cynically.

Circe laughed. "Yeah, I guess that is the right word. Means you have less to live up to. Less pressure, you know?"

"The unexamined life, and all that."

"That's the life you live for yourself. Not because someone expects something of you or banked on you when you were a kid. You achieve because you can, not because someone can cash in an 'I told you so'."

Severus thought carefully, chewing over Circe's point. Did the Slug Club members achieve because of Slughorn? Or were they always going to achieve and the Slug Club was vindication of that? Were he and Circe exceptions to the rule? Still, he thought back to the other faces in that photograph she'd turfed up, all of them exceptional wizards and witches who'd never made a wrong choice in their lives. And then there was him, a black sheep, radiating darkness and dubiousness even when he was seventeen…That black smear in the old photograph so unlike the other young, bright things around him. They were all destined for light. It seemed he had always been destined for the dark.

The room quietened into a deferential hush. Circe looked up from her coffee to see Dumbledore in the Staffroom, all eyes expectantly on him. She gasped quietly, sitting up straight in her chair. Severus turned around too, following the line of her sight. The Headmaster moved to the center of the room, his hands clasped reverently at his front. A solemn and serious look seized his old face and he looked from staff member to staff member, nodding to each of them curtly.

"Thank you all for being here at the very start of the school day." He began, speaking in measured tones. "As I'm sure you are all aware, last night held some very troublesome occurrences. I cannot pretend to have all of the answers but please know, I will do all within my power to keep our students and you, my faculty, as safe as can be."

"But safe from what exactly?" Flitwick asked, pushing through to the front of the crowd. "What did it mean? The message?"

"Ah, that question Filius, I'm hoping Professor Smith can help answer."

He waved a hand towards Circe and she suddenly found every pair of eyes in the room on her. She rose to her feet hesitantly and cleared her throat.

"Ahem… the message was a clear reference to a tale from the Medieval biographer Baldrick of Tysoe. Who wrote the definitive account of the founders of Hogwarts, if you're not up to speed with your historical chroniclers." She laughed nervously and looked around the room. When no one laughed back, she swallowed hard and continued. "Well, he of course wrote of the split of the four founders after their disagreement over what kinds of wizarding children should be permitted to be taught at Hogwarts. There is, surprisingly, no writings which survive from any of the founders themselves, so we unfortunately don't have Salazar Slytherin's own explanation for his decision. But I found local records of a gang of 'queer folk' who would come raiding the cattle of Highland villages near here and stealing food supplies by night. The Inverness sheriff stated in his records from 1028AD that the villagers said the 'queer folk' would turn into animals and rampage through the tithing barns, leaving nothing by daylight. There's a little song about it that I found in a Victorian anthropologist's study of rural Scottish folk tales. It's best read by a Scot, as it's written phonetically. Minerva if you would..."

She passed a piece of paper over to Mcgonagall, who took it.

Minerva adjusted her glasses, clearing her throat in preparation and began:

"Dinnae gae oot by dark'ness

Hide yer cows far frem thae castle

Fer the queer folk they shall bark an hiss

An thae do have nae vassal.

On wings an paws they'll spirit awae

Thine precious lambs an corn.

Sae in yer cottages ye stay.

Of the queer folk we do forewarn."

The whole room was deftly quiet, the old words sitting heavy in the air around them.

"So you think these animal transforming thieves were early Hogwarts students?" Severus asked, thinking carefully.

"Very likely, yes. Perhaps muggle born wizards and witches who maybe didn't understand the need to keep concealed and hidden from ordinary folk. Flexing their magical muscles, as it were. But I'm afraid Salazar's split was over more than just stolen livestock and a few frightened Highlanders. The early eleventh century was one of the worst periods for witch hunts in Scottish history. In this region alone there were at least fifty people hanged for witchcraft."

"But surely no self-respecting witch or wizard would have allowed themselves to be detained by muggle with finders?" Severus asked.

"Well, the witch hunts led to some rather zealous vigilante uprisings from the local population. And again, I can't be sure it's connected, but the original building plans for Hogwarts in 999AD show the Slytherin dormitory on the ground floor. Quite near to where the greenhouses are now. In fact, I think a few of the foundations were later used in the glass houses construction. But I digress...A few years later in 1030AD, the dormitory has been moved to a subterranean floor, where it is today. The only accompanying note with the change of the floor plan is a huge great line crossing out where the old dormitory was and the words 'fire damage' written above. It… well… it wasn't uncommon for vigilante groups to torch the homes of suspected witches…"

Minerva gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "You… you think the Slytherin students were attacked by muggles? Burned to death when the old dormitory was torched?"

"Probably pure-blood students too. Students who hadn't been the ones riling up the locals with stealing and fear-mongering." Severus added, seeing Circe's story come together in his mind.

He could only imagine the horror that Salazar Slytherin must have felt, looking out over the burning remains of his House's dormitory. Attacked as they slept, unaware of the danger that had been brought down upon their heads. Young, helpless, dead wizards, his own students, buried inside.

"Like I said, it's impossible to know for sure, but Baldrick writes of a fixation of the Slytherin founder on pure-blood status thereafter." Circe added, sagely. "The other founders disagreed with this and Slytherin was banished. Or he left of his own accord. But the tale goes that Slytherin left a legacy and a warning before his departure. Deep within the castle, possibly when he rebuilt the Slytherin dormitory underground to avoid the possibility of another torching attack from muggles, it is said he built another chamber. Not on any maps or blueprints of Hogwarts. A place where only his future heirs would know how to locate and access: The Chamber of Secrets."

"Professor…" Mcgonagall asked slowly. "What exactly is the purpose of Slytherin's Chamber? Why do 'the enemies of the heir' need to beware?"

"Well, at this point Baldrick becomes very vague and allegorical in his writing. It's difficult to ascertain his exact meaning, but…" Circe sucked in her breath, stealing herself to deliver the most unsettling blow. "Baldrick believed that The Chamber is the lair of a great monster. A monster that would rid the school of the"mudblood scum" that litters its halls."

"And I suppose this 'monster' can only be controlled by Slytherin and his heirs." Severus added, sighing deeply.

"So that is why, Staff, we must be on our utmost vigilance in the weeks to come. Listen out for any students who may be displaying 'pure blood' superiority ideologies and report them as necessary."

"That'll be half of the Slytherin cohort then…" Minerva whispered sardonically to Circe.

Severus overheard her and shot her a deep scowl.

"Until then," Dumbledore continued swiftly, " we must adopt a strict curfew system. Students will not be permitted to be out of the dormitories past dark. From now on, all Staff will commit to a rota of patrolling the Corridors, on the lookout for foul play. If the alarm needs to be raised, then Heads of Houses will begin a student count as well as any other members of staff under their jurisdiction. Staff on patrolling duty will immediately return to the Staff Room for their own safety roll call. I believe this is the best way that we can quickly ascertain if there is anybody missing who may be in dire need of help."

Or dead, Circe thought to herself.

Severus looked over to Circe and raised an incredulous brow at her, as if he had read her thoughts.

"Nice to know that we're being volunteered for the front lines." He whispered to her.

"Mmmm." She mumbled back. "'Threat of lurking, killer hell-beast' wasn't something mentioned in the job desciption for my position here."

"Hmph, wasn't something you delt with often at Edinburgh Castle, was it?"

Circe giggled, and earned herself an inquisitive look from Mcgonagall. This wasn't the first time she'd noticed Severus and Circe knattering away to each other during staff meetings. She raised her eyebrow at them both, noting the interesting situation seemingly developing before her...

"Professor Smith…" Dumbledore spoke, interrupting Circe and Severus's running commentary, "May I entrust you to research the school further? Any information we may be able to ascertain about the location of The Chamber, the better."

"Of course, Professor."

"And let us all pray that this is just an over-zealous precaution. Better to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. And we should all hope, if we hold dear and care for every one of our students, that Baldrick of Tysoe was only being allegorical. "

-----

Severus loitered in the corridor just outside of the Staff Room with a hot, steaming cup of coffee in his palms. The cold stone walls seemed to leech all the warmth from his feet and hands and he clung to the outside of the hot mug trying to regain some feeling in his fingers. It seemed like he had a long, chilly night before him too...

He was in a bad mood. Possibly even worse than normal. The patrol rota in the Staff Room had disappointed him once again. A great huge black line through Circe's name next to his has sent his morale to rock bottom. He didn't know whether Circe was actively trying to avoid him or if her workload was genuinely getting the better of her. It had been some months since the first attack and he did not envy Circe's mounting responsibilities. She'd be feeling particularly sore today after the close but decisive loss of the Ravenclaw team after Potter caught the Snitch. Potter, as he always seemed to do, attracted harm to him like a magnet and had ended up in the hospital wing again. Although, Circe did seem in higher spirits as she'd struggled to keep a straight face upon seeing Potter's floppy, boneless arm. Severus admitted that he'd had a slight upturn to the corners of his mouth as Harry had been stretchered away. They'd had a good giggle to one another about the staggering incompetence of Lockhart and the bad luck for Potter that he'd been the one first on the scene. Of course, never loud enough for any of the students to hear them as they ushered their charge swiftly back to their dormitories at the match's end. It had been a brief, but welcome moment shared together after weeks apart. Yet to Severus it was still infuriatingly infested with the presence of others. Never alone. Never just the two of them, as it had once been.

Severus sighed and blew on his coffee. He paced just outside of the Staff Room, waiting for his companion on patrol that evening. Of course, he was not surprised who Circe had managed to swap times with: Minerva.

It could be worse, he thought. Could have been Filius…

He was not kept waiting for long. He heard the approaching footsteps of heels on the flagstones and stopped to listen to the rhythmic clicking. Minerva rounded the corner, straight-backed and alert.

"Good evening, Professor Snape." She said curtly.

"Professor Mcgonagall." He replied.

The briefest flash of disappointment rippled over his face. Minerva caught it, lightning fast in her perception.

"I'm sorry, I'm not who you were expecting…" she said teasingly, reading his thoughts.

Severus flinched, surprised at just how close to the bone she was.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Did you instruct your prefects how to conduct the roll-call in your absence? Only if needed, of course." He asked, trying to move the conversation along.

"I did. I trust you did the same."

"Yes."

"Right, well…" she strode past him, her heels clacking again. "Shall we?"

They walked along fairly amicably, deciding on the route as they went. Talking on a wide selection of topics from breakfast that morning, to the mounting levels of marking they both had, the time passed quickly. Minerva's company was not so bad. She was astute and quick-witted, and her no-nonsense attitude garnered quite a level of respect from Severus. In another life, they may have been friendly. Before Circe had come to the castle, it had been them who had passed sardonic looks and comments during Staff Meetings. Yet their age difference had never brought them close. Nevertheless, as Severus was bemoaning the loss of time to prepare for lessons in the evenings, Minerva couldn't help but feel a motherly pang of nurturing towards him. Of course, she remembered what Severus had been like in school: so very, very lonely. The target of much undeserving teasing. If James and Remus and Sirius hadn't had been in her house, she would have given them a much harder thrashing for their treatment of young Severus. Now as a grown man, she saw just how much of that pain he still carried on his shoulders and thought of all she might have done to help him when he was younger. Blame clasped at her heart and she went quiet for a while, letting Severus carry on talking. Mumbling and complaining on he went over his chock-full timetable and the much-felt loss of his assistant in the department…

Minerva narrowed her eyes and regarded Severus as he waffled on. He looked lost, but pleasantly so. His eyes focusing on something far away and lovely. Like he was looking out over a beautiful scenic view. Seemingly unaware that he had talked of nothing but how much he missed Circe's presence for the last five minutes.

Oh, bless him, she thought. The silly boy's smitten.

"...and I do hope she didn't take today's Quidditch loss too badly. Every spare weekend she's had has been spent on the pitch training with them."

Minerva couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head.

"Something wrong, Minerva?" His face hardened again as he was shaken from his musings by her sudden laugh.

"No, no…" she began. "It's just awfully-"

She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide and her smile fading into an expression of horror. She looked past Severus, down the corridor they had just arrived at. Severus frowned at her and turned around to where she looked.

There, lying on the ground as stiff as a discarded action figure, was a student. Severus felt the colour drain from his face as dawning realisation hit him. Minerva rushed forward, laying a hand on the poor child's shoulder.

"The Creevey boy…" she muttered tearfully. "The one who's always taking photographs."

"Minerva, send a message to Dumbledore. I'll sound the alarm and begin the roll-call."

"It's just like the cat, Severus… stiff as a board."

"Petrified."

Mcgonagall began to sniff, her hand covering her mouth. "He's still holding his camera…"

"Minerva, focus!" Severus said forcefully, briefly halting her tears. "One child has been attacked, we must ensure no more needlessly fall prey to this…thing."

She nodded solemnly, wiping her eyes. She went about sending her patronus to Dumbledore as Snape sent a jet of red sparks streaming from his wand. They hissed and popped and went skipping about in all directions. Moments later, a shrill, high pitch alarm began to ring throughout Hogwarts' ancient halls.

-----

It was gone midnight by the time Minerva and Severus had made their way back to the Staff room to be counted in the roll-call themselves. Colin had been deposited in a bed in the hospital wing, his little frozen body lying awkwardly on the mattress. Severus still held Colin's terrified face, hidden behind his camera, in his mind's eye, unable to forget the palpable fear that must have gripped him before he stopped moving.

The Staff Room was a-buzz, despite the lateness of the hour. The Heads of Houses gathered to report on who was and was not present in their counts. Nobody, as reported by the trusted prefects from Slytherin or Gryffindor, had been reported missing. Pomona Sprout emerged a few minutes later to tell that all of Hufflepuff were present and correct. Severus began to relax slightly as he took in the good news. He poured himself another coffee and leaned against the wall.

Thank God it was only the one child… he thought. We've been lucky tonight.

He turned to the sink and poured the last dregs of his drink away, ready for bed. He heard someone approach him hurriedly, the telltale click of their heels revealing who it was.

"Severus…" Minerva grabbed his sleeve and pulled him close. There was alarm in her eyes and the ferocity with which she tugged him. "Severus, Circe isn't here. And I've just spoken to Filius, she's not with the Ravenclaws either."

Severus felt his whole body seize up with ice cold panic. He understood Minerva's concern immediately, the lines of worry on her face transferring to his in an instant. Their expressions were both a mirror of each other.

He turned from Mcgonagall, his head in swirling turmoil. His heart pounded in his chest as he strode from the Staff Room. His world went quiet, save for the thunderous beating of his blood in his ears.

"Severus, wait! We don't have the all-clear yet." Minerva called after him.

He didn't even stop, unconcerned for his own safety. Everything else around him faded away, unimportant now Circe was potentially in danger. The world passed by him as if it were in slow motion. Time dragged almost to a halt as dread consumed him.

Don't You dare be dead. Don't you dare be dead. He repeated over and over inside his head, trying to will it into reality.

He broke into a jog as he left the staff room, his head and his heart racing, aching… The corridors and rooms passed by him in a dizzying blur. He felt as if he were drowning, the air slipping from his lungs the longer he went without finding Circe's's face. He gasped, desperately trying to quell the mounting sensation of panic seizing his guts and chilling his bones. He rounded corners and peered down Corridors fearlessly, the possible danger of whatever lurked Hogwarts' halls going almost forgotten to him now. Nothing occupied his thoughts other than his frantic mantra:

Don't You dare be dead. Don't you dare be dead. Don't you dare be dead.

His feet pounded against the flooded corridor on the second floor. The water splashed around him, soaking his trousers to the knee, and still he noticed nothing. He rounded a corner, almost slipping on the wet surface and saw Moaning Myrtle eyeing up the rippling puddle saturating the stone flagons and plush carpets on the floor.

"Myrtle…" he asked sharply, making the ghost girl snap to attention and cease her sniveling. "Have you seen anybody else like… like Creevey was earlier?"

"Poor boy," she whinged. "He'd come to take pictures of me. Wanted to see if I showed up on his film. I told him to bog off when he followed me into the girl's bathroom."

"But have you seen-"

"I started throwing toilet brushes at him to make him leave… He must have run straight into the attacker!"

She wailed loudly and Severus was forced to shield his ears from the racket. He thought of the Creevey boy's face, hidden behind his camera: frozen in a mask of horror and sheer fright.

Am I going to find Circe looking like that? He thought, visibly flinching as the question passed through his mind.

"Myrtle!" He shouted, silencing the girl mid-cry. "Was there anyone else? Around here?"

"Not that I've seen…"

Severus began at his jog again, not holding to hear Myrtle's continued whingeing. His mind was cycling through a thousand and one different awful scenarios. What kind of horror had done that to Colin Creevey, and had that same horror caught Circe? He continued his search, sending up a small prayer to whatever higher power might hear him.

Please, let her be all right. I can't do without her now. Please. Until her I always was content to be on my own. Don't do this now. Don't take someone else I've come to care for…

His thoughts raced, the search and his inner bargaining becoming more and more anguished and hopeless.

God, I would kill to have had one more moment alone with her.

Severus almost ran past the library when he noticed the great door slightly ajar. A small sliver of golden light escaped from the tiny crack, glinting off the deep polished black of Severus's boot. No one should have been in the library at this hour… Especially under these circumstances. Severus crept through the small opening, trying to be as quiet as he could. He held his breath as he peered around the deserted room. His eyes cast over empty desks and half abandoned books. Students had left an innumerable amount of small things lying about to hint at the activity normally going on in the room: frayed quills and rapidly drying bottles of ink, half tucked in chairs around vacant tables. Yet it was all bathed in darkness and thick silence... save for a single corner of the library. Around one bookshelf Severus spied the deep orange glow of a burning lantern. Drawn to the light like a moth, he tiptoed over to the small alcove, holding his breath in anticipation.

Wand raised, he rounded on the small corner and there, collapsed on top of a small mountain of books was Circe… utterly dead to the world.

Severus was about to rush to her aid when she gave a small snore and mumbled in her sleep. He backed away, leaning heavily against the shelf and sighed so deeply he felt like a great sob had escaped his chest. His eyes filled with tears of relief and he wretched silently, the emotional gravitas of what had transposed finally catching up with him. He gasped as he wiped his face with a sleeve, leaning his head back against the bookshelf and sending up a message of thanks to whatever listener he had been begging to before. Finally, he composed himself and moved back to Circe's side. Her head was tilted to the right, her cheek resting against the open book pages beneath her. Old yellowed maps of the castle lay sprawled out around her, a maze of dark inked lines an ancient script that Severus could not read in the amber light. From an empty flask at Circe's side, he could smell the strong scent of stale coffee. Obviously it has done very little in keeping her awake and alert…

He lay a hand on her shoulder and gently shook her awake.

"Circe…"

Her eyelids fluttered as she was roused from dreaming.

"Oh God, Severus. What time-"

"Get up."

"What? What's wrong?" Why are you so-"

"Another child has been attacked. And you were not at the Ravenclaw or the Staff roll call." He interrupted, his last remaining pangs of worry melting away back into his default thorny irritability.

"Another one?!" She asked, aghast.

Circe rose to her feet, sending a stack of papers cascading off of her desk. She tutted frustratedly at herself and desperately grabbed at them, trying to stop the flow of toppling papers.

"Do you have any idea how worried Minerva and…" Severus trailed off, realising what he'd been about to say.

He also realized just how close he had stepped towards her. Somewhere buried deep inside him, smothered by his misplaced anger, he was inconsolably happy that she was safe and secure. That small but burning ember of happiness longing to be close to her.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep." She muttered, her brow furrowing. She rubbed her sore eyes and massaged the crick in her neck from the odd angle she'd dozed off in. "I've just been so busy with research that I just fell asleep. I'm exhausted, Severus…"

Circe has been trawling the library every spare moment she had. Sometimes staying up to research well into the small hours of the morning. The daily slog of teaching continued regardless of her extra work and she found herself quite drained. Still, the school needed her and she pushed away the longing for bed and rest to press on with manuscript upon manuscript. Her continued research so far had turned up nothing of great importance, and with each passing night her frustration deepened. Eventually all details, labels and embellishments on the many pages she studied all blurred together in a hazy swell of coloured ink. Her eyelids were heavy and her coffee was cold. The next thing she knew, Severus had been shaking her awake.

"Do you realise you could have fallen victim to whatever is stalking these halls?" He advanced on her, his heart still relentlessly thumping. "You completely slept through the alarm."

The light from Circe's lantern cast deep shadows across Severus's face, sharpening his features to a knife edge. As if he were carved out of stark white marble. Not unlike the wise, weathered faces of Roman politicians she'd seen standing like sentinels in countless museums and galleries across the country. His straight, imposing nose as sturdy as any Gallic General. His brow as rigid and lined as any ruminative Senator. His eyes were dark and unfathomable, sunk into shadow yet every bit as piercing and arresting as ever. They threatened to engulf her, swallow her up in their endless enigmatic ruin. He stripped her bare with his jet eyes and Circe felt breathlessly naked before him.

"You… You came looking for me?" She asked slowly.

She watched Severus's features relax as he pulled upright stiffly.

"I was… concerned for your welfare."

"Severus…?"

He cast a furtive glance back to her and, despite the bags under her eyes, his heart still sang at seeing her vivid green irises looking back to him, well and unharmed. Not vacant and glassy like the petrified Creevey boy's. Severus swallowed hard, trying very much to stop another sob from rising from his throat. His mask of composure slipped for a brief moment as he reached out and took her hand. The feeling of the warmth of her palm confirmed in his mind that she was here, safe, alive...

Alone. With you…

Circe held her breath. The sudden familiarity taking her completely by surprise. She stared at his pale slender fingers on top of hers. The touch minuscule. But the smallest of movements sending Circe into waves of aching, pulsating longing. His mouth was right there, hidden in the long shadow cast by his ebony black hair. She yearned for it. Everything in her wanted to lean into Severus and kiss him. Pin him to the bookshelves. Be utterly consumed by him. Yet he looked fragile, vulnerable, more drained than she was. She did not move, rooted to the spot as if she were trying not to spook a forest doe.

"You're alright." He breathed finally, still refusing to look up from his hand on top of hers.

"I am. Did… you come looking for me during the alarm?"

He did not answer, merely looked up at her, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Severus you shouldn't have risked your own safety to come looking for me by yourself."

Severus let go of her and Circe felt the coldness from his absence on her skin at once.

"You are the only adult within these walls that I would have done so for." Severus said, almost a whisper. As if he were afraid of hearing his own words aloud.

Every hair follicle along Circe's arms stood up as goosebumps rose on her skin.

She leaned in close to him a tiny fraction and Circe heard Severus gasp so quietly it could have been mistaken for a breath. Yet he did not back away. Instead he regarded her hungrily, feeling the same stirrings of desire within him that she did. Her lips were full and open before him. The look in her eyes driving him to despair. So close he could smell her perfume again, the floral peony a sweet intoxication. He reached up to her face and brushed a curl away...

"Circe…?! Circe!" A voice called from the entrance to the Library.

The door swung open, flooding the room with light from the outside corridor.

Circe gasped and Severus turned around to face the intruder.

"Minerva?" She called out, trying in vain to mask how utterly undone she felt.

"Oh Circe, you're alright!" She rushes forward, extending her arms out towards her.

Minerva enveloped her in a warm, strong embrace and gently rocked her, sighing happily.

"I'm so sorry for all the hassle I've caused." Circe began. "Severus found me out cold on my books."

"Good lord, you had us worried sick!"

"I know. I'm sorry…"

"You mustn't work so hard. If you're popping off to sleep mid-chapter then Dumbledore is asking too much of you."

"No, no… it's all the high energy quidditch practice-"

"Poppycock! I'm a light sleeper, remember. Every night this week I've heard you crawl into bed at an ungodly hour. You'll be no help to our students if you're dog-tired and burnt out. Tell her, Severus!"

Minerva looked to Snape imploringly, and caught him still mentally recovering from his and Circe's moment. He felt very much like a baby severed from the umbilical cord: confused, cold and wanting to weep.

"I…. I will update the roll-call…. let everyone know you're safe...to stop searching." He stuttered. "Excuse me, Ladies."

He almost pushed Circe over as he strode past her. He caught the last notes of blushed suede under her peony scent, rich and deep, insanely tantalising. Severus wrung his hands together and tried to push her beautiful lingering smell away. He strode from the room without looking back, fleeing from her and the feelings she invoked. Circe was left in the wake of his absence, feeling bereft and hollow. As she watched Severus leave, she knew that evening she'd be replaying their moment in her head again and again. The fantasy of a kiss that never happened, a brush of her hair, the feeling of his fingers on her… it had given her much to think of from beneath her covers...