Chapter 4 - "If so, if so. Who answers? Who answers?"

Circe's birthday was on Hallowe'en. Her whole life she'd been fighting against a beloved holiday for attention on that special day. When she was a young girl she'd often had to abandon any hopes for a party as most of her friends wanted to go trick or treating. Her Hogwarts years too had been overshadowed by ghouls and ghosts and pumpkin pasties. Today, however, she was grateful for the distraction. Like every relentlessly aging twenty-something, she'd come to dread birthdays. A flurry of letters and presents had been deposited for her at the staff table in the Great Hall and luckily it all blended in quite unremarkably into the mass of sweets, treats and other Hallowe'en foods. She kicked the brown parcels under the table hurriedly as she took her seat, eager to conceal them from the other staff members. Circe would rather die than forcibly withstand a round of 'Happy Birthday' whilst she sat in her seat awkwardly not knowing what to do with herself. She looked around for any sign of recognition of her gifts and cards, or potential singers waiting in the wings. No one looked her way. She sighed, deeply relieved.

Students busied themselves with chatter and consuming as many chocolate covered delicacies as they could. Teacher's too were similarly distracted. Minerva chatted away to Dumbledore as they poured each other a tumbler of whiskey: a special staff holiday treat. Circe had the far end of the staff table to herself and poured out a drum of the dark oaky spirit. She took a sip as she stared through the orangey glow of the liquid at the bottom of her glass, gazing up at the softly spinning pumpkins suspended in the ceiling space. She privately tore open one of the letters waiting for her and began to read.

"Dear Circe,

Happy Birthday, love. Come and see me and Jane and the boys when you're settled in to your new job.

The young men down in HMV tell me this is the album of the year. Not sure what I think of it myself, but I hope you'll enjoy it.

Lots of love,

Dad."

Circe smiled and felt a small ache in her chest. It had been a while since she'd seen her Dad and she missed him. Way before she'd left Edinburgh, in fact. The last time they'd spoken was to let him know of her change of address, and that was a fair few weeks back. She again internally cursed wizarding kind for its outright phobia of telephones.

I bet Ziggy gave him quite the fright when he dropped my new details through the letterbox. She mused to herself. Still, he must have given my presents and card back to him to deliver here. That must have been a hard one to explain away to Jane...

She delved under the table and pulled out a small CD sized parcel. Tearing open the paper, she revealed a murky red album cover. "Pearl Jam. Ten." she read aloud. She turned it over in her hands and nodded in approval. Circe popped open the CD to check the contents inside and out fell a fair few muggle twenty pound notes.

Oh, Dad… That's too much!

Grateful as she was for the gift of money, it would be difficult to spend amongst wizarding kind. She methodically went through the rest of her cards and letters from a variety of old friends and distant relatives. She picked apart a small rolled up scroll, bound with a red ribbon.

Dear Cee,

Happy to oblige on the Nimbus discount. Should have arrived at Hogwarts a few days ago.

Hope he loves it! Remember your end of the deal though!

And happy birthday, you dickhead.

See you soon for rehearsals hahahaha!

Myron

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After she'd finished reading, the paper crumpled in her hands of its own accord and suddenly re-shaped itself into a face. It spurted a few firework-like bangs of colour from its mouth and Circe turned pale as her face dropped into an expressionless gasp. A few of the staff nearest to her turned towards the commotion.

"Oh fuck… A singerler."

Like their more nastily-intentioned counterparts, howlers, singerlers were often sent to small children on their birthdays to… well… sing. Loudly.

The letter's mouth opened wide and seemed to draw in breath. Circe could do nothing but stare at it in ever-encroaching horror. Wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole, she resigned herself to the utter embarrassment of what was to come.

"HAP—"

Suddenly, a great black wall descended in the space between her and those looking, shielded her from prying eyes. Snape threw his outer cloak over the letter, smothering it instantly and burying the noise it made under a deep layer of fabric.

"Pretend you're talking to me and they'll leave you alone" Severus said in a low voice.

"Are any of the kids looking?" she asked, not daring to look up from her lap and check herself.

"No, too busy stuffing profiteroles into their mouths."

She laughed and relaxed slightly. Circe finally raised her head once her face had stopped burning and she was a hundred percent sure the singerler had stopped its muffled noises from beneath Snape's cloak. Severus was regarding her closely, looking down his arrow sharp nose into her face.

"Are congratulations in order?" he asked, amusement lacing his words.

"I'm not pregnant." she joked.

Severus shifted in his chair and raised a brow, eyes wide. Circe felt a small swell of pride that she'd managed to make him feel slightly uncomfortable. He avoided her eyes, not quite sure where to look or what to say.

"No… I meant..I…"

"It's my birthday." Circe said, finally putting him out of his misery.

"Oh…" he cleared his throat. "Would you like me to wish you-"

"No. Thank you though."

He nodded his head in approval. The very faintest of smiles touching his lips.

"From some ghastly relative?" He asked, pointing at the crumple of his cloak on the floor.

She groaned, giving it a final kick for good measure.

"No… uh an old school friend. Always was a bit of a showman."

"Yes I did rather figure that out."

Their lessons together since the run-in in the store room had been professional, minimal in communication, lacking in any of the budding rapport or familiarity that had been briefly hinted at. Their work together was incredibly efficient, and produced good results. But Circe didn't want their time together to be like a dental appointment… but dared she hope for anything resembling a friendship?

Is that even possible with my Byronic colleague? She thought to herself. "MY" Byronic colleague… she realised she'd thought. Perhaps it was worth trying to extend an olive branch.

"Yeah.. he helped to...attain Harry's broom for his first match."

"Oh I see.." Severus said sourly. Both of their eyes wandered towards the Potter boy, eating merrily amongst his fellow Gryffindors. "That was you, was it? I suspected Minerva didn't act on her own. The boy really should have it confiscated. Favoritism is not something we do here."

Her olive branch may as well have lay snapped in two on the flagstones between them.

"That's rather rich coming from you." She replied defensively. "And anyway Minerva had nothing to do with it…It-it was my idea... " Circe tried to backpedal, rushing and stumbling over her words.

"Don't. Lie. To me.." Snape said forcefully and ever. so. slowly... "I can tell when someone is lying through their teeth, and you are a very poor actress, Professor Smith."

"Alright. Fine, I won't." She squared up to him, her eyes now firmly locked on to his. She found her innermost braveness, and met him head on. "But I am also not going to be intimidated by you, Severus."

Snape's eyes narrowed and he felt his words die in his throat. Her eyes were a-fire with a determination he had never seen from her. It was the look of a warrior staring battle in the face and she damn near glowed with fierceness. For the first time he looked at her like a true equal.

A true huntress, she refused to let him out of her eyesight and did not back down first. He relinquished to her and sighed, breaking eye contact first and leaning back into his chair. It felt quite novel to Severus, to have someone demand anything of him. It had been quite some years since he'd allowed anybody to speak to him like that. Yet something within him broke for her, but it was more of a release than a break. Not a concession or an embarrassment, but something wholly more interesting. Before then he had tolerated her. Now, he rather respected her. She refused to be bullied by him.

She felt his eyes drift all the way down to her toes and then back up to her face. Incredibly ardent and probing, tieing her stomach in knots. Feeling his anger disperse, she too relaxed back into her chair and reached for her tumbler. Severus's hand was around it before she could grasp it herself. He smirked coyly as he touched the whiskey to his lips.

"Well, I suppose even the best broom in the world won't help him if he's a clumsy little butter-fingers." He said, peering at her from over the rim of the glass. "Shame his first public humiliation will be at the hands of the Slytherin team."

She sighed exasperatedly, unable to stop herself from smirking too. "A "shame" Severus? Or a match you won't be able to take your eyes off?"

Despite himself, he let out a small laugh.

It had been years since anybody had coaxed a laugh out of him. For that alone, she suddenly earned his respect.

"Gone by Christmas", indeed. He thought, scoffing at his own ignorance.

"Perhaps..." he began hesitantly. "...I underestimated you."

He paused for a moment as she blinked at him.

"In my world, respect is earned, not given. And maybe I..." He let out an exasperated sigh. "I think I understand you and you understand me. Yes?"

He ended his garbel of words abruptly, knowing that he'd made a hash of whatever sentiment he'd been trying to get across.

Circe locked eyes with him, feeling like the wind had been punched out of her. Here he was, spitting venom one second and offering apologies the next. He was as graspable as mist. Yet...

Somehow as their gazes settled on one another, a calm spread through her chest. Like tow great armies laying down their arms before each other. Perhaps her olive branch had been accepted after all.

"It seems we've come to an... understanding of one another then, Professor." Circe put delicately, pouring herself a new whiskey and gesturing to Severus, asking him if he wanted a refill.

The slightest of grins pulled at his mouth.

"You know," he purred, extending his glass out to her, "I rather think we have."

They cordially clinked glasses. She'd known a fair few eccentric academics who blew hot and cold with their moods, but Severus was something else entirely!

"Happy Birthday, Circe."

It was the first time Severus had referred to her by her first name and it did not go unnoticed. She knew that the comment was first and foremost a knowing dig at her obvious dislike for her day of aging, but it nevertheless felt like something one friend might say to another in banter…

"TROLL IN THE SCHOOL!"

They were both snapped out of their exchange by the scream of terror that echoed off the Great Hall's walls.

"THERE'S A TROLL IN THE SCHOOL!"

Quirrell came barrelling into view, stopping short of Dumbledore at the staff table's head. Dumbledore, as well as a number of other staff members, Severus included, rose to their feet in alarm. A pregnant pause of silence followed in which all six hundred or so people in that room were in a dumbfounded stupour. Quirrell promptly then fainted, breaking the spell, and the room erupted into screams.

The students descended into outright pandemonium as panic rippled from house to house. Luckily, Dumbledore restored order with a singular booming command of "Silence!". Every student stared at their Headmaster in enraptured attention, listening carefully to the careful evacuation instructions that followed. The prefects sprang to action, directing their Houses back to their Dormitories at once.

Dumbledore then turned calmly to his colleagues. "Staff, please pair up and check your respective school areas. If any of us come across the Troll, send a patronus out as a message of where we may find you immediately. Do not engage the Troll by yourselves, wait for others to come to your aid before beginning an attack." The staff, as a unit, nodded in understanding. "Minerva, will you accompany me?"

"Of course, Headmaster." Minerva replied, striding forward.

The rest of the staff began to pair off and discuss the plan of action.

Circe reached for her wand, drawing it out of her coat pocket. "Severus, you and I can check the Potions classrooms, then head up to my first floor room."

Dumbledore and Mcgonagall were already leaving and other staff pairs soon moved to follow suit.

"How confident are you with the patronus charm? I haven't conjured one for-"

"Where is Quirrell?" Snape asked, interrupting her.

"What?" She looked at Severus, whose worrisome expression unsettled her even more deeply than before. Circe turned back to where Quirrell had fainted, now busy with moving people and blocked from her sight. "Uhh I don't know, I can't see him. Perhaps he was taken to the hospital wing by someone."

"Circe, did you complete your level of protection for the Stone?" Severus rounded on her, grabbing her forcefully by the shoulders.

"What? Yes, weeks ago." She replied, confused by Severus's seemingly unrelated questions.

"Check the Potions classrooms with someone else. I need to go…"

"Go where? Severus?!" She called after him, but he had already slipped away out of one of the small concealed doors, off to God knows where.

-----

Circe paced the long, dark and dismal corridors of the dungeons, cursing Severus's name for leaving her alone. All the other staff had paired off and dispersed before she'd realised Severus wasn't coming back. So she'd decided to go it alone… and was rather regretting the decision.

Her heart pounded in her ears, the only noise she heard in the oppressive silence around her. The dungeons were eerie in the daylight. By night, with a rogue troll on the loose, they were downright terrifying. She rationed to herself that if the Troll was here, she'd probably hear it before she saw it. But still, she kept a prepared and shaking hand on her wand.

Circe dutifully surveyed each room for a sign of any life and found them all empty. The last room, right at the end of the corridor, was Severus's classroom. Again, swearing under her breath, she rued the day that had put her in this situation as she dragged her lead legs reluctantly to check. Finding nothing once more, she moved to turn and run back to the surface. Until she heard a noise from the store room…

She stood rooted to the spot, desperately trying to convince herself that she'd imagined it… when it came again. A small rattle. Gathering her courage, she willed herself to start the walk to the cupboard and investigate.

A troll couldn't fit in there… could it? She thought unsurely.

Wand raised in preparation, she pushed open the storeroom door with a bang.

There, hanging precariously off one of the ingredient shelves, was a small House Elf. He froze in place, his hand hovering over Severus's desk, clutching a singular piece of paper. He screeched, his huge doll-like eyes popping out of his head. Circe screamed too, but quickly regained her calm, clutching her poor heart.

"Apologies, Madame…" the House Elf squeaked. He jumped down from the shelf, rattling a few bottles and stoppers as he landed. Circe flinched, knowing the harm that would occur if he smashed one of those bottles if he wasn't careful. "Is this the office of Professor Severus Snape?"

"Uh, yes it is." Circe replied, crouching down to the House Elf's level. He still held the paper in his tiny hands, close to his filthy chest. "But I'm afraid you've come here at a bad time."

"Oh sorry, Madame but Mr Malfoy said it was of the utmost importance tha Professor Snape be found straight away. Th-this arrived for him this morning at Spinner's End, you see…" He held out the paper to her in explanation.

"Malfoy?"

"Mr Lucious Malfoy, my master. He keeps an eye on Spinner's End for Professor Snape while he's away at Hogwarts."

"Ah I see."

Circe abhorred the practise that some wizarding families still kept to: keeping House Elves. It was slavery. There was no way of dressing it up. At least all of the Hogwarts Elves were free and paid for what they did.

"Please ma'am where will I find him? My master will be ever so horrible to me if I don't do as I was told." The House Elf began to tear up and his bottom lip shook.

"Oh lord knows where he is." Circe said bitterly.

Dobby started to wail.

Circe shushed him, panicking that the noise might draw the attention of the Troll.

"What's your name?" Circe asked softly.

"Dobby, miss."

"Well, Dobby. If you leave it with me, I solemnly promise you that when I next see Professor Snape I will give it to him."

The House Elf sniffed and looked at the paper, then back to Circe.

"And who shall Dobby say he left it with, Miss?" The House Elf asked cautiously.

"Circe Smith. Professor Circe Smith." She assured him. "I work with Professor Snape."

Dobby looked at her long and hard, internally grappling with his decision.

"Alright, miss." He tentatively held out the paper and Circe took it from him.

"Thank you Dobby." She gave him her warmest smile and he seemed to brighten at that.

"Such a lovely lady, miss. Not like Dobby's master. No, they'd never say "Thankyou" to Dobby."

She smiled sadly at the House Elf, not quite sure what to say.

"And it took poor Dobby ages to find Professor Snape's office. Dobby even had to sneak past that nasty great Troll on the second floor."

Circe felt the colour drain from her face. "What?"

"But never mind, Dobby has left Professor Snape's paper now with a friend." He grinned widely at her.

"Did you say the Troll's on the second floor?"

"Oh yes, nasty great lolloping thing. Was tearing a few chunks out of the bathroom and a few children as well it looked like."

Circe gasped.

"Dobby is rather confused, ma'am. Mr Malfoy is always going on about how wonderful Hogwarts is but they seem to be sticking Trolls on their students, which doesn't seem very wonderful at all to Dobby..."

"Good God…" Circe breathed.

"Well Dobby had better be off, Miss. Thank you for your help."

The House Elf clicked his fingers and he was gone, melted away, in a thick puff of smoke.

Circe turned on her heels to leave for the second floor immediately. She reached for the handle of the storeroom door to realise that she was still holding Dobby's charge: Severus's very important piece of paper. Without thinking, she turned it over in her hands and read what it said.

"Certificate of death for: Eileen Anita Snape (nee. Prince)..."

"Oh no…"

-----

Circe's breath was ragged when Mcgonagall's cat patronus went shooting past her as she ran up the many moving Hogwarts staircases. She heard it's message echoing through the halls as it called upon the other staff members:

"The Troll has been located. Come to the second floor girl's bathroom."

I hope Dobby was exaggerating about the troll tearing chunks out of students, Circe thought, her brows knitted together in a worried frown.

She rounded the corner to the second floor girl's bathroom and had to come to a screaming halt. Rubble and water covered the floor and she heard raised voices of alarm coming from inside the bathroom. Circe took a few long draws of air to try and steady her breath and herself before diving headlong into what she was about to see.

Mcgonagall stood amidst the chaos with Dumbledore, Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick. They had beaten her to the rallying cry, it seemed. Before her lay the troll, seemingly out cold on the floor accompanied by a rather sheepish looking Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Circe looked to the troll, and then to Potter and then to Minerva, putting the pieces together.

"Did… Did what I think just happened here really just happen here?" She asked Flitwick; Minerva was too busy giving the First Years the what-for.

"Why… yes I do believe Potter and Weasley just brought down a fully grown mountain troll. Claim they were saving Miss Granger here from a rather grizzly death."

"Bloody hell." Circe couldn't help a smile of slight pride spread across her face.

She felt a presence behind her. Wordlessly and almost silently, Severus had moved into the rapidly filling crowd of Professors at the entrance to the girls bathroom. Circe turned, knowing who it was before she locked eyes with him. Snape's face was stoic, giving away nothing. Yet still, he returned her look and it hit her like a wall of ice. He moved forward silently to her side and she waited for him to say something. When nothing came, the anger rose within her and she hissed at him under her breath.

"Where the bloody hell did you go?"

He drew in breath to reply to her, but instead hastily fumbled with his cloak, covering his leg. Circe looked at him in confusion, but her bewilderment only deepened when she saw Potter fixing the Professor with the most suspicious look she'd ever seen.

"Severus, what by Merlin's beard is going on?"

Minerva dismissed the children and they were frog-marched back to their dormitories once the necessary congratulations and reprimands had been bestowed upon them. Circe hung back whilst the other members of staff also began their walks back to their rooms, leaving just her and Severus alone in the corridor. She rounded on him in an instant, pointing an accusatory finger in his face.

"Now you are going to tell me what the bloody hell all that was about before in the Great Hall before I-"

Severus backed into the wall. He sucked in his breath sharply in pain as he hobbled backwards.

"What? What's wrong?" Circe asked, all anger within her vanishing in a moment. She cast her eyes down to Severus's leg and saw the torn bloody mess on his right calf. "Oh my god, Severus."

"It's nothing…" Snape said dismissively, trying to push past her.

"Like hell is it." She forcefully placed the palm of her hand on his chest and he almost toppled to the side. He winced again and let out a small cry as he tried to regain his balance by putting weight on the injured leg. "Come on, I'll take you to Madame Pomfrey."

"No! I can't...She'll ask too many questions she can't be a party to."

A long moment of silence followed as Snape fixed her with a pointed, knowing look.

"This is to do with the Stone isn't it." Circe said slowly.

Snape nodded, the temples of his head beaded with sweat.

"Then I'm taking a look at it." Circe added decisively.

"Professor Smith I really don't-"

"Oh shut up, Severus." She said, hooking his arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight on her. Injured as he was, Snape had no choice but to follow where she led.

For the second time that evening, the door of the storage room swung open for Circe. She heaved Severus in with her and lowered him down onto one of the empty table tops. He swung his injured leg up onto the wood, sucking in his breath at the sharp sting of pain as she busied herself looking for what she wanted. Circe set down her few choice selections next to him and tore the tattered cloth on his leg open up to the knee. Severus thought about voicing his slight outrage, but thought better of it and begrudgingly allowed her to continue.

Circe wrinkled her nose and smelt her hands. "Ugh Jesus, Severus, what is this? It smells like drool."

"Dog drool."

"You were attacked by a dog? Where? Why?!" She flung the myriad of questions at him as she filled up a bowl with hot water and emptied one of the vials she'd selected into it. He said nothing, letting his stoic mask fall into place once more. "Alright fine, don't tell me anything." Circe sighed, giving up on trying to squeeze information out of him. She dipped a cloth into the water and began cleaning the wound.

After a while, something like a comfortable silence fell between them as Circe worked at his injury. He flinched every time she re-dabbed the cloth and applied it to a fresh part of the cut, but otherwise did not complain. Circe moved to grab some bandages and she felt a corner of paper brush against her from her inside pocket.

Ohh… she thought solemnly having completely forgot about it in the hubbub. She removed it carefully.

"Severus." Circe said, seriously. "A House Elf from the Malfoy family dropped this off for you whilst you were gone." She handed the paper over to him. "Apparently it came to Spinner's End this morning. I'm sorry."

He took the paper from her and his eyes fell on the morbid words.

"My mother…" he said to no one in particular.

Circe thought she heard the slightest crack of emotion in his voice and her heart broke for him.

"You didn't know she'd…"

Severus shook his head. "I'd not seen her for many years. Not since the war…I knew that she was ill, but I still expected my Father to tell me if..."

He did not complete his sentence. He closed his eyes and placed his head in his hands. His long black hair shrouded his face from view and Circe watched him shrink in on himself in grief. No tears, no sobs, just resignation and a bottomless, black sorrow. Circe placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. On any other day he may have batted it away or screamed at her to leave him be. But not today.

The day that had taken Lily from him… and now also the day that had taken his mother from him. The two most important women in his life. It was cruelly ironic, really.

"Do you ever wonder…" he asked eventually "...why you are the one that lives on when others who are too kind and good for this world seem to be snatched away first?"

Circe said nothing, at a loss for words. She remembered her own mother, whose face was becoming increasingly hard to picture as the years drew on. Each birthday putting another unnegotiable barrier between them, until all she had left of her was a few pictures and a certificate similar to the one Severus held in his hands now.

"Do I really deserve to be alive?" Severus asked again.

"That's a question and a half, Severus." Circe replied, thinking aloud. "One that I don't think I can answer...I don't think anyone can answer."

He looked up at her, through his limp hanging hair. Most people would offer some kind of meaningless platitude at this time. She didn't insult him with this and for that alone he respected her.

"But you are still alive. That's something we can answer for ourselves and that's good enough. 'Deserving' or not. Kind or cruel. You're still alive."

It was crudely put, but something about the way she so simply said it touched a nerve in his heart. He looked up into her eyes, past the glint of her glasses and the earnest honesty hidden there.

"Well, despite your best efforts to make it otherwise…" she gestured towards his leg in jest.

He scoffed as she resumed work on his wound. For a while, he watched her busy with her bandaging, numbed to the world around him. Her bronze curls fell about her face, bouncing as she moved here and there. She stuck her tongue out of the left side of her mouth ever so slightly when she concentrated. He wondered if she knew she did that.

He realised with sudden alarm that this was the first time he had been touched for eleven years. And then all his mind could focus on was the feel of her fingers, brushing against his leg hair.

"I'm guessing you're not on fantastic terms with your father." She asked, shaking him out of his fixation.

"Uhh.. no." He cleared his throat, feeling the warmth rise beneath his skin.

"I could make some enquiries at the hospital on the death certificate if you like? Find out if the funeral has taken place yet. Or where she's buried."

"He didn't take her to St Mungo's?"

"Uhh…" she reached for the certificate at Snape's side, and he felt the brush of her hair against his face as she leaned in close. His whole body stiffened. "No, The Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Birmingham it says here."

"A muggle hospital." He shook his head and sighed. "Why did I expect any better of him?"

He thought for a while and conceded that it was probably best if she rang the hospital, just in case they passed her on to Tobias Snape. If he saw or spoke to his father ever again, it would be one hundred years too soon.

"That would be very greatly appreciated." He said. "Thank you."

Circe smiled weakly at him. She thought carefully about what she wanted to say next. Clearly he was vulnerable and she suspected that he would probably regret several things he'd said to her tonight by the next morning. She didn't want to taint what had transposed here by putting her foot in a tetchy issue she knew nothing about again.

"You know… people do strange things when they're grieving..."

"Don't." He snapped at her. "All you need to know is that this is not out of character for him." His face set into a vicious scowl.

She tied off the bandages and her hands dropped to her side. He felt the absence of her touch instantly.

Circe swallowed, pulling up emotions that she'd buried for years. "When my mother died, my Dad didn't cope with it very well initially."

Snape's scowl relaxed as she said this. He looked at her curiously.

"For a few days he refused to see me… I guess because I reminded him of her. And the only thing I wanted right then was my Dad… to grieve with. And he couldn't stand the sight of me. He eventually came around when his sister gave him a bollocking for his behaviour… but it was still painful. It still changed how I saw him."

"And your point is?" Snape asked impatiently. Maybe she wasn't above a poster-quote piece of advice after all. He theorised something like "don't judge people by their worst moments" was coming.

"No point. I guess I…" she trailed off.

I just wanted you to know you're not alone. She completed the thought in her head.

There had been people who'd Circe had gotten very close to who didn't know about her mother and the unspoken rift between her and her Dad. She wondered to herself why this man, who'd not been the kindest to her by any stretch of the word, was who she'd opened up to. Why did she want Snape to know? It confused her as much as it did him it seemed. Perhaps it was a way of evening the stakes between them: he'd shown vulnerability to her so she wanted to gift him something equally vulnerable back.

"I guess it's just something that two people who... understand each other might say." She said with a small grin.

Snape nodded and a wordless bond grew between them in that moment.

"Are you familiar with the Ancient Egyptian beliefs about the dead?" She asked.

"No." He said simply, rising to his feet. He tested his injured leg and experimentally placed some weight on it. "Do tell."

"Well it was believed that a person's ka or soul was inseparably tied to their cartouche, their name. There's a rather nice sentiment in The Book of the Dead that I've always liked. A small bit of magic that even muggles could do…"

Snape raised a brow at her.

"They say that on days of mourning or rememberance all you need to do is say the name of the dead… and they live again."

"Say their name and they live again…" he echoed.

Circe nodded slowly.

"Eileen Prince."

"Phoebe Rogers."