Chapter 41: "Hey, you've got to hide your love away."

Circe was dreaming once again of the many bodies of screaming and frightened people piled on top of her. As soon as she realised she was stuck in this recurring nightmare she screamed, feeling all the air leave her lungs and her throat burn. The people around her groaned and mumbled in intense pain, and she felt it all.

Oh God, please no… Not again.

Ever since her memory had come back, she'd been blissfully absent of the bad dreams. Ever since she'd thrashed things out with Snape, her head seemed righted. As if whoever tormented her had left her alone now she was finally one with Severus. But this time, it was like it had come back with avengence. Everything seemed startlingly vivid: she could feel the heat and sweat of the bodies, smell the damp and crumbling plaster of the ballroom, and she could hear the laboured, raspy breaths of the figure beneath the hood. It was like life, only it felt more real. She started to push back, fighting against the filthy bodies of those around her with tooth and nail. She pushed and shoved at them, roaring with the sheer effort it took to try and get them off her.

"Leave me alone! I didn't do this to you.." she wept, plunging her palms into their faces over and over again.

They felt so real, every twist in their features and sickness of sweat, she could feel it all. For the first time, she was not frightened just from the claustrophobic presence of the people around her, but by how lucid and present they felt. She fought against their crushing weight and almost stopped dead when she saw the young, gaunt face of a Hogwarts girl. The girl she had seen the first time she had dreamt of this awful place. Up close, she could see her clearly now: her round glasses, her grey eyes, her shining black pigtails.

"Myrtle?" She breathed.

The girl opened her mouth and screamed, and her noise rippled through the other bodies nearly until Circe was in the midst of a screaming, writhing mass.

A hand extended out to her and Circe looked to it with alarm.

"Take my hand, Circe." It was Lily once more.

Circe looked up into her face, lined with worry and framed with auburn hair.

"No! Leave me alone! All of you leave me alone!" Circe roared back at Lily, trying so hard to fight the others off herself.

Something of her waking jealousy stopped her from accepting Lily's hand.

I can save myself! Despite what Severus says, I can save myself…

"Circe, he's strong... He's so strong. Please don't do this tonight…" Lily pleaded with her.

"I'm just as strong as you!" she sobbed. "Severus needs to see that…"

"He does… He does… just please take my hand and-"

"Just get off me! All of you get off me!" Circe screamed, shoving at the bodies around her haphazardly.

They screamed back at her, a cacophony of pure terror and fright.

"Do you want to be one of them, Circe? Forever stuck in the state of horror and fear you were in before he killed you?"

"Who? Who is he?" Circe asked, looking around desperately for the hooded figure. She could not see him, but she sensed his presence drawing near. "Who are all these people?"

"They are those whom I relieved of life…" a sickly voice hissed, echoing off the cavernous roof above and rattling around Circe's skull.

The bodies around Circe shrunk away from her in an instant, scurrying back to the shadows like disturbed rats. Despite herself, she looked around for Lily, forgetting her resentment for the woman once she was left alone, but she too had gone, so had James, or anyone else who could have stood by her. Circe was left gasping and panting for air on the ballroom's floor, her knees pressed painfully into the hard stone floor. The marble felt smooth under her hands…corporeal and startlingly solid. Circe was frightened, deeply afraid as she looked up and saw standing in the mirror's reflection, once more, the hooded figure.

"Every one of the souls here… I sent to the afterlife." The voice continued, sending a shiver emanating throughout Circe's body, until she shook uncontrollably with terror.

The figure reached up with two withered, bony hands and slowly drew back the hood. The face that emerged from the darkness was nightmarish. A fleshless, hollow, skeletal demon with eyes of brightest yellow and a forked tongue that danced about his cracked lips.

"Voldemort…" Circe whimpered.

"Yes, my dear… I've called to you for a long time now. Summoned you to me. But another disciple has heard my cries, and now I am on the brink of my glorious return. Soon I shall rise anew, with my loyal by my side."

Circe wept, struck dumb by The Dark Lord's serpentine stare. "You know me… you know me…" she muttered through choking sobs.

"I do. I know your heart. I know your desires. I know your love."

The visage of the Dark Lord waved a skeletal hand, and beside him in the mirror, the image of Severus bled into her sight. He stood there rigid, catatonic and unmoving, like a puppet whose strings have been severed, until Voldemort waved a hand again and he began to twitch about under his guidance.

"I know your heart aches for him, Circe. He. My most loyal of servants. Do you not wish to follow him in servitude to me?"

His dead-eyed Severus puppet reached out a limp hand to her.

"Come to me, Circe. Come to him." The Dark Lord said in a beautifully gentle voice. "You could serve me at his side. With him. With me. You have seen what happened to those who fought against me…"

Circe heard the muttered whimperings of the people who hung in the shadows. Feeling their fright rising up in her own chest again. She wished desperately that she could wake up. Tear herself from this nightmare and run as far as she could from the ice-cold panic coursing through her veins. Anything that would separate her from the crushing sense of dread and loss that weighed down on her from the people in this ballroom's shadows.

"Let me wake up… please. Let me wake up…."

"You will know of my return soon. I shall rise and call my followers to me and my conclave shall begin."

Circe gasped as Voldemort dropped his hand and the Severus puppet fell to the floor in a shapeless heap.

"I pray that I shall see you both when I am reborn… Otherwise the consequences will be great. For you both."

Voldemort snapped his fingers and his victims rushed forth from the shadows. Circe screamed as they delved upon her hungrily, crushing her completely with their weight, taking all light and air and space from her. Until there was nothing. Blackness. Weight. Terror.

And then she woke up. Screeching with considerable volume as she sat bolt upright in Severus's bed, the covers around her drenched with sweat.

"Circe…?! Circe…!" Severus called out, still half-asleep.

He reached out to her, lying at her side and placed a hand on her shoulders. She screamed anew, flinching at his touch.

"It's alright, it's me!" He said firmly, shaking her from the last dregs of the nightmare.

But as she slowly realised she was awake and no longer in the crumbling ballroom, her screams dissolved into retching sobs as her whole body shook with fear. Severus pulled her close, cradling her in his arms as he rocked her gently.

"It was him… It was him all along, Severus..." she spluttered, barely able to get her sentences out in between her cries.

Severus shushed her and stroked her hair, feeling his bare chest grow moist with her tears. He whispered small comforts to her even though his own heart drummed against his breastbone.

"Tell me… before you forget." he said, trying to soothe her, but barely able to keep the alarm from his own voice.

"I saw them all, Severus. All the people who he's killed over the years. All their fear and their pain and their terror, he let me feel it all until it weighed down upon me so much… I thought it would crush me. Myrtle… Moaning Myrtle . I saw her."

"Myrtle?

"He must have been the one who killed her, Severus. With the Basilisk … in the bathroom… all those years ago. And all of those others… so, so many of them…" she muttered a little manically, her mind going at twice the speed of her mouth, barely able to keep up with her thoughts as they jumped from place to place.

"Who, Circe?! Who killed her?" Severus asked exasperatedly.

"Voldemort…" she whispered.

All of the hairs on Severus's arms stood on end.

"And he knows me, Severus. How does he know me!?"

A knock on the door made Severus and Circe both flinch. She gasped and covered her mouth, looking to Severus wide eyed. He pointed towards his bathroom and she silently slid from his bed and tiptoed as quietly as she could to the adjacent room. Severus too rose from the bed and threw a discarded black cape around himself as he moved to answer the knock. He opened the door a crack and peered into the gloom.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Filch asked, peering through the orange lamplight that he held before his lined face. "I thought I heard screamin'..."

"I am… working on a mandrake draft. You heard the cries of the plant, Argus." he lied quickly.

"Oh…" Filch said, a little disappointed at the lack of drama. He was used to the unusual hours Snape kept, knowing of Severus's habit of working through the night well enough. "I thought it may have been a… student out of bed or… someone down in the dungeons who shouldn't be. A Beauxbattons lady sneaking about with a boy perhaps..."

"Well you were mistaken, Filch." Snape replied shortly.

Filch grumbled and cleared his throat. "Well… alright, Professor."

"Is that all?" Severus said coldly, trying to hurry him away.

"Well… yes, but-"

"Then I shall bid you goodnight, Filch,"

"Goodni-"

Severus slammed his door shut, silencing Filch mid sentence.

Snape groaned and Circe poked her head around the door to the bathroom. Once Severus had heard the last of Filch's receding footsteps, he nodded to her. They both moved back to the bed silently and slid under the covers once more. Severus placed a comforting arm under Circe's head and drew her close.

"I think we shall have to think of some other arrangement, Circe. We shall be discovered eventually, if we aren't careful. It's only a matter of time before someone sees us together or spots one of us leaving the other's bedchamber…"

Circe sighed, knowing Severus was right in his morose summation. "Minerva is already asking questions about where I'm sleeping these days, if not in my own bed…" she muttered.

"And what did you tell her?"

"Most of the time I can just lie and say I'm off home for a gig, or to visit Dad… But three or four times a week? That's pushing it."

"Quite. And with Minerva literally on the other side of a wall to you, maintaining a silencing charm around your entire bedchamber all night is... draining."

"But what other options do we have?" She asked, exasperatedly. "It's "my place or yours" or nowhere."

"We shall think of something, Circe." he said gripping her tight.

"A dark corner? A broom cupboard? The potions storage room? Not exactly romantic is it, Severus. I want a bed for you and me to lie in, to sleep together in each other's arms in, a safe place that's ours, where we can shut the world out, hide ourselves away and relax…"

"I know. I know… I wish that too. But I'm afraid we may have bigger fish to fry now, my love..."

Circe's brow furrowed as she remembered that she felt clammy and agitated, but the reason why faded rapidly from the forefront of her waking mind.

"What were we talking about before Filch-"

"You don't remember?" Snape asked, surprised.

"I…. It was the dream… Something bad… But I was telling you, and I forget. You know I forget them when I wake up after a while, Sev."

"I know, that's exactly why I had you tell me what you saw." he said in a low voice. "Do you remember what you said about… Myrtle?"

Hearing the ghost-girls name again felt like a piece of the jigsaw puzzle had slotted back into position in her mind. The memory of the dream came screaming back into sharp focus in her mind's-eye in a flash. Circe's mouth dropped open as it all fell back into place. She nodded at Severus wide-eyed as she began to shake with fright again.

"He said… he said he'd known me for a while. And I've been having these dreams since… God, since the end of my second year here, Severus. It was him… all along. Watching me. Tempting me…"

"The diary." Severus grumbled, closing his eyes as understanding washed over him. "He knew you because you held his diary."

"What are you talking about?"

Severus turned to face Circe on the pillow beside her, his arm clasped tight around her as he held her trembling body firm. "I thought… you might be spared if you didn't open it… or write in it like the Weasley girl did."

"Ginny?" Circe asked, deeply confused.

Then she remembered the girl as she had been back then, running through the pipes away from Circe, just out of sight, possessed by God knew what. And she remembered the book the young girl had thrown at her.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle…" she whispered, the name coming back to her from the dregs of her mind, as if it had lay dormant there like a great eldritch beast, awaiting for it to be summoned forth once more.

"It was his. He and Voldemort are one and the same." Severus said gravely.

"But… but I didn't open it! I dropped it in the bathroom once I'd crawled out the septic tank!"

"It doesn't matter. You touched it. And now he knows you. He's always known you…"

They lay in silence, both of their faces lined with sheer worry. Severus tried to fight back tears of frustration. The Dark Lord knew of Circe and his worst fears were slowly creeping into the light of day, steadily being made reality. He cursed himself for ignoring Circe's mention of her dreams earlier in the year, but coupled with her rapidly failing memory problems, the dreams had seemed inconsequential at the time.

How wrong… How wrong I was yet again.

"What else did he say?" Severus asked, his voice etched with sorrow.

"That… I don't know… It's difficult to remember now. Something about a conclave and disciples coming to him."

"A gathering. So he is to return…" Severus breathed out a long sigh. "You said that you saw everyone who he had killed…."

Circe went rigid, having a strong, horrible hunch she knew what Severus wanted to ask next. Her already unsettled mood had her feeling vulnerable and tetchy and she felt like channeling some of her negative emotion outwards in whatever way she could.

"Just say it, Sev." she said cooly.

"Alright. Did you see Lily?"

Circe sat up brusquely, wrenching herself free of Severus's arms. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why do I…. Because I loved her, Circe."

""Loved"?" Circe snorted. "Are you sure you're using the right tense of that word, Severus?" she asked, on the verge of tears.

She stood up, beginning to dress herself with her discarded clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor.

"That's not fair…" Severus replied weakly, a little hurt by what Circe was saying. "I've told you how much-"

"I saw her. I've seen her several times." she interrupted him haughtily. "You'll be pleased to know she's been saving me from Voldemort even from beyond the bloody grave. It would be very Lily to outshine me even when she's dead."

"Don't be cruel, Circe. It doesn't suit you." Severus shot back, his hackles raised.

"Oh that's rather rich coming from you, don't you think?"

"So you're accusing me of cruelty? What else exactly are you accusing me of? Because I loved her does not mean my feelings for you are any less diminished!"

"But you didn't want to love me, did you. It was always "against your better judgement" or "despite myself"."

"Because I don't know how to love without pain!" he shouted at her. "And for the longest time the pain of Lily was all I could feel, so I tethered myself to it to save me from drowning. So forgive me if I ask about her, you being the only person who has seen her for thirteen years! But all that was before you came along and you taught me better-"

"James was there too." she whispered, watching as his face flinched at the mention of Potter Senior.

She knew she'd touched a nerve, but it still pained her to realise that he was still jealous of James despite what he had now, after all these years, despite her. She shrugged her coat onto her shoulders and left Snape staring morosely at his hands. She moved to the door but stopped as Severus called out to her.

"Are we really going to be like this, Circe? Isn't it enough for you to know I love you now? Whereas I think you want me to say I never loved Lily… and that would be untruthful."

Circe sighed and turned the handle. Maybe Severus was right and she was being the covetous and proud Gatsby of the story, unable to allow Daisy to have loved outside of them.

"Perhaps I'm just selfish then." she said with a shrug.

"Where are you going?" he asked, desperately trying to avoid parting from her on these bad terms.

"I don't know. To find a green light over the Black Lake to stare at, maybe.."

------

By the time Circe had snuck past Filch and back up to her rooms, it was almost time for breakfast. The castle was slowly waking up and Circe took a few moments by herself in her conservatory to sit in the quiet and the greenery as daylight bled through the glass roof. How many times had she sat in these chairs, staring up into the sky, thinking about Severus? How many times more would she do the same thing, she wondered. Minerva, luckily was dressed and gone by the time she'd snuck back, but secretly she had hoped the older woman had still been there. If there had been anyone whomst she would have confided in about her and Severus finally being together, it would have been her. Minerva knew, despite her outwardly prim and haughty exterior, what to do in terms of matters of the heart. Circe wondered how her and her late husband had fared, coming together later in their lives and having lived separately and loved others before then. Circe wondered how she had become so jealous, so envious, when beforehand she hadn't given a monkeys who her boyfriends had been with before her. What made Severus different?

Because it's Lily…. She thought miserably. There will always be Lily.

She sighed, wondering whether she had overreacted a little. Perhaps the shocking revelations of the dream had unsettled her, made her more emotional and fractious than normal. It wasn't everyday, after all, that one realised the most dangerous wizard on the planet had been present in the most intimate parts of one's psyche. It felt like a violation, like he'd seen her at her most naked and open.

The sooner Severus agrees to begin teaching me occlumency, the better. When did dreams become so important? She wondered. In the ordinary world, if I had a bad dream I'd walk down to Prince's Street and go get a McDonald's breakfast…

But it was the realness of the dream that told her otherwise. The coldness of the marble floor, the pressing heat of the bodies around her…

She had never doubted once that what she'd seen had real life consequences.

Her Cantuscope was humming away noisily in her bedroom, ticking and whirring as the antennae twitched, sensing her odd mood. Circe rose from her seat in the conservatory just in time to see the display at its front change to "The Tower": sudden and unforeseeable change, danger, crisis, destruction. Circe sighed, wondering if Severus had been right in telling her the machine was unreliable with it's emotional detection. So far it had been nothing but spot on. The Cantuscope buzzed and crackled into life.

"Shut up…

Shut up!" Came a duo of voices from the speakers

Circe flinched.

Did that machine just tell me to shut up?!

But then the guitar rhythm kicked in and the song commenced. She recognised the tune almost immediately. You've Got to Hide Your Love Away. She nodded approvingly, moving to the bathroom to wash and dress quickly before she went down for breakfast. She stopped her teeth-brushing dead to listen to the voices on the track. It wasn't The Beatles, it was someone else's cover, and she recognised the brash, brutal, no-nonsense voice on the song. A distinctive Gallagher rasp.

"Here I stand, head in hands.

Turn my face to the wall.

If she's gone, I can't go on.

Feeling two foot small."

She changed into some new clothes after a speedy scrub down and a brush of her hair. Her curls flew out at a series of odd angles after she'd passed a comb through it, but she couldn't care less about its unruliness at that moment. Severus had commented quite a few times that Circe could have been Hermione's older sister, given the similarities of their locks, and Circe was admittedly seeing the comparison too as she looked at the bushy mess on top of her head. She tied it up into a quick bun, letting a few loose strands fall about her face and around her neck, deciding that would do just enough to be perceived as 'presentable'.

As she entered the Great Hall, several students were already tucking into their full english breakfasts, chatting excitedly about the final challenge that was to commence later that day. She looked around quickly, noting Severus wasn't there yet.

Circe was on her way up to take her place at the staff table when Ginny Weasley called out to her.

"Oh, Professor Smith!"

Circe stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face her. Ginny was rising from her table with a scroll of parchment in her outstretched hand.

"Your essay on Pre-Roman Welsh Celtic Magic, Miss Weasley?" she asked, falling back into her Professorly persona effortlessly.

"Yes. Sorry it's late." the young girl said as she approached Circe, placing the scroll into her outstretched hand. She was fresh faced and bubbling with excitement already. Her brown eyes sparkled with an energy that Circe was a little jealous of for that early in the morning. "I was waiting for a book on Rihannon of Powys to be returned to the library for my second to last paragraph."

"Oh, well thank you for making sure I didn't have to chase you up for it."

"Better to hand in something I'm proud of rather than something that's rushed or incomplete, right Professor?" Ginny asked, bright eyed.

Circe smiled approvingly at her. "Indeed."

Ginny nodded and turned to sit back down at her bench.

"Oh… Ginny…?" Circe asked suddenly, halting the Weasley girl's actions.

Circe looked about the room furtively, feeling a gnawing sense of unease in her stomach, as if the very walls might be watching her, or unseen ears were gathering around her.

Ginny might be the only other person in this castle who knows how you feel.

She stepped close to her student, leaning in so close to her she could have counted the freckles smattered across her youthful face.

"A few years back… when we had all that horrible business with… with The Chamber of Secrets..." Circe whispered to her in a low voice.

Ginny's face coloured almost as red as her hair and she looked to her shoes, embarrassed.

"Yes, Professor. I remember."

"Do you remember a… diary... that you threw at me down in the pipes?"

Ginny went from bright red to ashen white in seconds. "His diary. Tom Riddle's." she muttered.

"I know what it did to you, Ginny. That diary. And I'm not angry with you. I… I just want to know… what did it feel like?" Circe asked cautiously.

"When… when he was in my head, Professor?" Ginny asked.

Circe nodded.

"I don't really remember it much now. But it always felt like it wasn't really happening to me. Like I was watching someone else do what I did… What he made me do."

"But did Riddle know you? Speak to you?"

"Oh yes, all the time. He showed me things that I liked, things that I found comforting and nice. Like... he'd make it seem as if I was at home with Mum if I was missing her. Or he'd show me… someone I liked… if I was thinking about them." Ginny spoke in hushed tones.

"And since Mr Potter rescued you, you haven't seen him or heard him? Like when you're dreaming?" Circe asked.

"Riddle? No. Not since Harry destroyed the diary. He must have killed whatever it was that connected us in The Chamber." Ginny said with a shrug.

Or Voldemort found a bigger target to concentrate his energies on. Circe thought as a deep frown bloomed across her face.

"I don't really like talking about it, Professor. Can I go back to my table now?" Ginny asked awkwardly.

"Of course. Thank you Ginny, I know it must be difficult for you..."

"If you want to know about bad dreams, then perhaps you should talk to Harry." Ginny added.

"Harry?" Circe asked.

"Yes. He hasn't said anything much about them to us. But before the Quidditch World Cup, at the Burrow, I noticed he'd wake up every now and again saying his scar hurt or he'd had a bad nightmare…"

Circe thought for a while, trying to place exactly why the uneasy feeling in her stomach felt a little stronger than it had been before her and Ginny's conversation. It wasn't unthinkable to believe someone like Harry, who had experienced so much already in his short life, may suffer from bad dreams every now and again. But Circe was all too familiar with the consequences of ignoring dreams now. She nodded to Ginny and the red-haired girl turned on her heels and returned back to her seat.

Circe's stomach had not ceased churning uncomfortably since she'd woken up that morning beside Severus. She tried to force down a few slices of brown toast as she chewed miserably at the staff table, but the apricot jam she'd lathered on the top tasted too sweet and sickly. The butter was too salty. The bread too dry. After her second cup of tea, she abandoned her crusade to try and eat something and got up to commence the teaching day. She had a busy timetable that day and keeping the children's minds focused on Ancient Studies today was going to be a challenge. There was no Severus, he hadn't come to breakfast. Maybe that was for the best as Circe didn't know how she would have behaved around him if she did see him. Ziggy flew into the Hall and plopped her letters down in front of her, right on top of her uneaten slice of toast. She tutted, peeling the paper off of the sticky jam and cast an exasperated eye up to her owl, hovering in the rafters above.

"Cheers, buddy…" she grumbled as she wiped an envelope with her sleeve.

She got up from her table, thumbing through her post as she ambled along to her classroom. One of them was from Remus, that she could tell. One of them from her Dad. And a third one in a hand she didn't quite recognise.

She sat down at her desk, tearing open her Dad's letter first. It was just a quick catch up, telling her of the goings on back home, how the boys were doing at school, Jane's planning of a second holiday up to Scotland. Matthew also mentioned in his note the many envelopes from the bank Circe seemed to be getting of recent. She groaned at that, thinking how far into the red her finances were, having chosen to pay for Remus's room in Edinburgh and all the additional wolfsbane ingredients she needed for his potion. The school wasn't stocking the supplies for it now Professor Lupin was no longer on the staff list, so Circe had found that once Severus's storage cupboards had been depleted, she'd had to start forking out for it. There really was no way they could justify buying the ingredients with the school's finances, given the potion was nowhere on the curriculum for any year group. Circe could see how Remus had almost bankrupted himself trying to pay for it all himself. The first of her students for the day were beginning to wander in and take their places at their desks as Circe reached the end of her Dad's letter:

"I'd hate for that very nice Jag you've got sat in the garage to rust away to nothing. I've had a bit of a bonus at work recently. If you didn't want it, I could buy it off you? I might even let you take it for a drive from time to time when you're home for the summer, if you want to sell it that is.

Lots of love,

Dad"

Circe thought about her Dad's offer. It wasn't a bad idea. She didn't use or need the thing, and the money would help to keep Remus put up for a considerable amount of time. Plus, if Sirius Black ever came asking after his gift to her, she could still present it when needed. She reluctantly filed away the other letters she'd collected that morning and began her teaching.

"Right guys, we're going back through Atlantean culture and script." she announced to the group of Sixth Years with a bright smile. "Seen as Mr Diggory couldn't discern an "ehep" from a "say dehep" on his second-task egg."

The students groaned, uneager to revisit the difficult topic again. But Circe was having none of it, already handing out the hefty textbooks with a bang as she dropped them down on their desks one by one.

By the time morning break rolled around, Circe had watched Minerva pass by her classroom door in a hurry a fair few times. Sometimes accompanied by Dumbledore, sometime with Filius or Moody or Pomona… it was like watching a Benny Hill skit. Circe was just about to wander over to the Staff Room with her empty mug, when Minerva again walked past her door in a tizz.

"Min!" Circe called out.

The Gryffindor Head of House came to a halt and turned to see who had called out to her. When she finally found Circe, her face was lined with worry, her arms nervously fluttering by her sides as she approached her with the speedy clacking of her heels.

"What's going on?" Circe asked.

"Barty Crouch is missing." she replied gravely. "His house elves tell us this has been the case for a number of weeks now."

"Oh good Lord… Well, where was he last seen?"

"Here! After the second challenge. That's why I've been running around like a blue-arsed fly all morning, searching the grounds."

"Wha- they don't think… Something happened to him here? The second challenge was months ago, surely he would have been found by now if he's-"

"Oh it doesn't bear thinking about." Minerva interrupted. "But the poor soul was gone for weeks and there was nobody in his life to notice until now! After his poor wife died and his son… You know about his son, don't you."

"No , I don't think I do."

"Oh it was a terrible state of affairs! After the end of the wizarding war, Barty was the Head of Magical Law enforcement. He was the one who sent down all of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters."

Ah yes, the Nuremberg Judge. Circe thought, her memory of reading of the trials coming back.

"I remember. He was particularly linked to the Frank and Alice Longbottom case, wasn't he? You've got to be several shades of fucked-up if you could do that to someone else..."

"Well that's just it. Barty was forced to send down not only Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, oh and that nasty piece of work Bellatrix, but his son too!"

"His son was a Death Eater?" Circe asked, surprised.

"Indeed. Barty Crouch Junior. Broke his poor wife's heart, sending his own son to Azkaban. Her health was never right after that. She died about nine months back now, I think. Barty Junior also died in Azkaban around the same time, I believe…"

"Poor Barty." Circe said with a grimace.

"I just hope he's going to turn up in France or Bulgaria somewhere on Ministry business."

"Oh Minerva, that would almost be like good luck and lord knows we've had stacks of that recently..." Circe quipped sarcastically.

"Well, one hopes against the odds…" Minerva said with a heavy sigh. "Alastor's confident that he could find Barty on Hogwarts's grounds by himself, if he is here. He doesn't want any Ministry help in hunting for him."

"He doesn't want the help of other Aurors? Why ever not?"

"He said he 'doesn't want any Ministry goons interfering here'." Mcgonagall said flatly.

"But… what about Tonks? His own mentee?! She's been itching to see him."

It was all very strange to Circe. Tonks had written to her several times asking after Moody. Since before the summer at the World Cup, Tonks had told her Moody had been acting strange. Stranger than normal. Her old teacher had not sent her a word since he'd been at Hogwarts, and as much as it was typical for Moody to be a bit distant or brusque, for their relationship to have dissolved into nothing overnight was odd. Minerva could do nothing but shrug her shoulders at Circe's questions.

"Well, I'm teaching all day. But I could set some library research task and come and help you?" Circe offered weakly.

"Oh Alastor has also made it apparent he doesn't want the help of any staff either." Mcgonagall grumbled.

Circe made a face of confusion and Minerva shrugged again. Mcgonagall moved to leave, off to one of her own lessons.

"As if we didn't have enough of a busy day ahead of us already." Minerva sighed. "How are the young ones?"

"Bouncing off the walls. Barely able to concentrate. Talking of nothing but Potter or Diggory. You know, just like usual."

Minerva chuckled. "And will you be joining us at the stadium tonight? Albus has rather outdone himself with this last challenge. The maze is huge."

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Circe asked as Minerva hovered by her door.

"Well, you've had so many performances and engagements outside of Hogwarts recently…" she murmured. "It seems like you're hardly ever around the castle of an evening these days."

Circe blushed, avoiding the older woman's gaze awkwardly. It pained her to lie to Minerva so blatantly. And Circe had been right in her discussions with Severus earlier that morning, people were beginning to notice that her behaviours had changed.

How long will I be able to use the 'gig' excuse before someone realises that we're not doing any more shows than normal? She thought cynically.

"I will be there tonight. I wouldn't miss it for the world." she said finally.

Minerva smiled and nodded. "I shall see you later then."

Mcgonagall swept from the room leaving Circe alone once more.

The next time Circe was able to look at her watch, a few more busy lessons had passed and the end of the day was near. It had been a long day of lingering, troublesome thoughts all swirling around in her head until she felt like a washing machine of worry. By the time the end of her last lesson drew to a close, Circe was emotionally exhausted. She bade goodbye to the last of her students as they shuffled out of the back of the classroom, unable to stay quiet with the excitement of the nearness of the final challenge. Circe could have told them that they had six essays to write for her by next lesson, and they wouldn't have batted an eye at her. She sat down at her desk, flicking through the books she had just taken in and realising she'd probably have to re-teach everything she'd been though today. Ginny's class, whom she'd taught at the very end of the day, were looking particularly weak in their understanding. She picked up Ginny's book and flicked to the back page, where she saw a massive doodle of Harry Potter's name, encircled with inky hearts and drawings of the young boy fighting off the dragon he'd faced in the first task. Circe laughed, despite her slight annoyance, understanding more of the comment the Weasley girl had made about the image of "someone I liked" Voldemort had shown her when she was younger. Her laughter soon dissolved back into a worried frown as her mind lingered over thoughts of Voldemort. She thought of all the times the Dark Lord had used the visage of Severus to tempt her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hoping and praying that the Dark Lord's memory of those dreams when he woke faded from his consciousness like they had before with Circe.

And if he does remember everything? If he knows everything in excruciating detail? If he knows I'd follow Severus to the ends of the earth, even with everything that happened this morning?

Circe pushed the thoughts of their argument away for the time being as her hand passed over her remaining letters from that morning. She saved the Remus one for later, and peeled apart the letter from the unknown sender.

There was no note, no words inside, but what did slide out of the folded envelope was a neatly tied bundle of hair. Circe frowned as it fell into her palm. It was dark, mostly black, but with a few strands of grey distributed throughout it.

"What the fu…" she breathed, holding it up into the light.

Her thoughts halted as she heard the approach of Moody's uneven footsteps draw closer to her classroom. He lumbered into the doorway, leaning heavily on his stick and watching Circe silently as she sat at her desk. Circe felt a chill pass through her as his hefty presence blocked the light from streaming through her door. His eye whirled around in his head in that strange, dizzying way it often did and watching it twitch and move made her feel even more uneasy. She thought about asking him if he needed her for something, or if he required any help, but his presence alone was disquieting. She found herself utterly perturbed and silenced by his peculiar company. Moody's roaming eye finally stilled as he saw the bundle of hair she held in her hands and, saying absolutely nothing, he nodded succinctly to her and walked on.

Circe spluttered in disbelief, gobsmacked by the utter ridiculousness of it.

"Moody! MOODY!" she called out, rising from her desk and chasing after him.

It had been a strange enough day already, without the ominous, creepy ball of hair in her palm and the downright weird behaviour of Alastor at her doorway. Circe's patience was paper-thin and she called out to him again.

"MOODY!"

She reached the door, holding the bundle of hair in front of her like a bag of dog mess. But when she looked from left to right, up and down the corridor, Moody was nowhere to be seen. She grumbled and kicked at a nearby wall as she gave up chase, knowing that if the Auror wished to not be found, then she would not find him.

Why the bloody hell have I been given this? Did Moody send this to me? She thought, turning it over in her hands. It had been cut and bound rather meticulously, tied together with a thin strand of green ribbon. And whose hair is this?

-----

Circe had been rather too unsettled to attend dinner that evening in the Great Hall. She stayed to her classroom, tucking the bundle of hair into the top drawer of her desk and nervously swinging on her office chair until it was almost dusk.

Perhaps I should ask Dumbledore about it. I'll have to tell him about my dreams sooner or later, especially if I'm to begin spying for the Order. Or I could ask Severus about it. She wondered.

Her chest ached when she thought of Severus, having tried hard all day to not think about him. She'd stayed away from the staff communal areas today, just in case she ran into him, but perhaps she was behaving a little martyristically. Stranger and stranger things were happening as each day went by and it felt wrong to Circe that she should keep events which troubled her from him.

Lord knows we'll both need one another when the shit eventually does hit the fan.

Circe fiddled with the pencils on her desk, ticking over their argument in the early hours of the morning and what to do next.

Perhaps he had been right and she had been needlessly cruel in their argument. Circe found herself craving his touch, needing his comfort, longing for his soothing voice. Yet he must be as terrified as her, thinking of the great, unknowable void that stretched out before them.

That's why she decided then and there to go to Severus. Circe strode from her classroom with purpose, hoping she could still catch him in the dungeons and he hadn't left already to begin his suppertime duties in the Great Hall. She walked brusquely, keen to keep herself out of sight. Her heart raced every time she approached a blind corner, just in case a nosy Filch or a gobby teenager was loitering there. That was another thing Severus had been right about, Circe quietly admitted to herself. It really was becoming dangerous to be sneaking from one room to another like this all the time. It was a miracle they hadn't been caught already. But in the short space of time they had been together, she had come to cherish the presence of his body beside her in bed. It had been some years for Circe, and even longer for Severus, since she'd slept side by side with anyone, but now she found it difficult to go to sleep without him there.

But where else is there in this castle where we could carve out a tiny haven just for us? She thought, chewing her lip. If we could find somewhere where prying eyes wouldn't think to look… but is there anywhere in this whole bloody castle that could be our little love-nest?

She paused as she heard the sound of a familiar voice from down the corridor. Filch, muttering something to his cat again as he swept his broom along the flagstones. Circe looked around desperately for somewhere to hide herself. She wasn't sure exactly how much Filch had seen or heard last night and she was keen to avoid him because of this. If he saw her again, heading in the direction of the dungeons, then he might just put two and two together... There wasn't anywhere to hide herself: no alcove, no hanging tapestry, no corner, just a small, inconspicuous door behind her, embedded in the wall to her right that she'd sworn hadn't been there before… There was no time for Circe to ponder. She grabbed the handle and pulled it open with a huff before disappearing inside.

As the door closed shut behind her, Circe stepped into a perfect little room in which a large four-postered bed was placed, surrounded by a series of rich, red, diaphanous pillows and several maroon-coloured, flowing blankets. She thought for a moment that she may have stumbled into someone's bedroom, but there were no members of staff who had their chambers in this part of the castle. And Circe was sure that she'd never seen that door before today. Yet it was as if her prayers had been answered; it was quaint and small, but filled with several tall, gold candelabras bearing a series of brightly glowing flames, the bed looked wonderfully soft and inviting, the walls hung with a gentle gossamer that flowed lightly when Circe ran a hand over it. It was cozy, romantic, private, everything she could have asked for… She sat down on the bed cautiously, expecting there to be some kind of curse or a trap laid in the room, but there was nothing. It was wonderful, and she sank into the mattress as if it were made of marshmallow. Then realisation hit her. She'd read enough books on Hogwarts and studied extensively on the castle's history from her research a few years ago. She laughed aloud as she understood where it was she had found.

The Room of Requirement… just gave me and Severus a shag-palace.

"Sev…! Sev..! Severus…!" came a series of short raps on Snape's door. He lay down his book and frowned, recognising Circe's voice in an instant.

What's she doing back down here? I thought she was displeased with me. He thought to himself as he hurried to let her in.

She sounded excited… Joyous, even. As he opened the door a crack, he peered at her through the gloom and frowned.

"What is it? Is something the matter?" he asked, his heart fluttering with anticipation as he recalled the rather uncertain terms on which they had parted earlier that morning.

Circe grabbed his hand and dragged him into the corridor.

"Severus, you've got to see this." she muttered, all ill-feeling and tension between them forgotten for the time being.

"See what? What's put the wind up your sails, Circe?"

She turned to face him and smirked. "I think I've found a solution to our problems. Well… one of our problems..."

"The important one?" Severus asked, following wherever he was dragged by her. "The one connected to imminent, oncoming danger and possible death?"

"Oh God, no. The considerably less deadly but most definitely as equally important one." she said, a small tinge of sarcasm to her voice.

"I… I don't-"

"I've found a place where you and me can meet, Severus. Without raising suspicion." she whispered back to him as she pulled him relentlessly on.

"How? Where?" Severus asked, a little dumbfounded.

"Just wait... "

Circe waited in front of a blank wall, watching patiently as she thought of the plush, red room she had seen before. And as the image solidified in her mind, the small, inconspicuous door emerged in the stone, much to the amazement of Severus. He stood at her side, watching in awe as the room appeared from nowhere. He didn't need Circe's prompting to go inside, turning the huge handle and pushing it open. Circe followed him in, giggling as she watched Severus staring around the quaint little room as she closed the door quietly behind them. It locked as it was pulled shut, as Circe was able to feel the sliding of metal and grinding gears under her hand.

Ours, just for you and me to hide away. Literally shutting out the rest of the world.

"What is this place?" Severus asked, looking around with wide eyes.

"The Room of Requirement. Or "The Come and Go Room" as some of the early Hogwarts scholars called it. A room that can only be entered when the seeker has a real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs."

"Oh my… What on earth did you have on your mind when you were seeking out the Room then?" Severus turned to her, smiling wickedly.

"I didn't go purposefully looking for it! I was just… thinking about what you said last night, and then…. There it was."

"That's what was on your mind?" Severus asked, stepping close to her. "Priorities, Circe…" he tutted.

"Yeah, well... There's only so much a person can dwell over the presence of the most awful and terrifying wizard known to history invading my most intimate dreams… Otherwise I'd just abandon myself to becoming a crying, wailing mess of fear…"

"Fair, fair." Severus nodded. " But I thought I was in the dog-house too, considering our fight early this morning."

Circe sighed, suddenly remembering why she had been on the way back down to Severus in the first place. "Can we… call a truce?" She asked tentatively.

Severus smiled sadly, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her, achingly slowly, lingering over the delicious taste of her on his tongue.

"I'm sorry, my love." He whispered. "I apologize if I made you feel-"

"Don't." She interrupted quickly, not wanting to bring up Lily's name again. The subject still stung as she rolled it around in her head, and right now she just didn't want the extra angst on top of all that had happened. She was prepared to shelf the "Lily issue" for another day. "I'm sorry too. It's just… difficult for me to understand right now. You know I love you, Sev? So, so much…"

"Today, tomorrow and as far into the future as you can see?" He asked, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Absolutely."

"And I'm still yours, for as long as you'll have me." He purred, kissing her neck gently.

"Let's just hope that our future is ours to make… and a certain dream-invader doesn't take it away from us." Circe sighed heavily, feeling her heart flutter with anxiety.

She kissed him, before her mind could wander back to any more worries, stroking her hands over his chest as he pressed close. She bit his lip playfully and smiled coyly up at him as he cried out. Circe pushed him forcefully and he fell back onto the plush bed, gazing up at her adoringly as she climbed on top of him. She pressed her mouth to his again hungrily, feeling both of their desires rising until they were at a breathless fever-pitch.

"Do we have time?" Severus muttered, his hands already working at removing her shirt.

"Let the bloody task start without us…" she whispered back.

Severus chuckled, low and wonderfully seductively. He reached up into Circe's hair and grabbed a fistful, yanking her head back.

"Ow!" She exclaimed, a little startled.

"That's for biting my lip." He growled.

"I can do more than that to you, you wuss." She teased, her hand disappearing between his legs.

"I have a high tolerance for pain, Smith. Try your hardest."