To Know Who I Am

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to my beta reader, ubiquirk, my Brit-picker, saracen77, and my alpha readers, bluedolfyn and willow_kat.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize and I'm not making any money from this. If you think otherwise, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.

Chapter 13

A subtle hum of magic surrounded her, and it felt warm and safe and solid. Something very solid was pressing against her backside, and as she slowly woke, she became gradually aware of the arm around her waist tightening and her neck being nuzzled. She wriggled her hips to press back against him a bit, and he moaned quietly just below her ear.

Thank Goddess whatever this magic is means he can’t seem to startle me into thwapping him. That would seriously ruin the mood.

The past two nights since she had been discharged from the hospital wing had been … uneventful. They had both been too exhausted from their respective patrols to consider doing anything but collapsing into sleep.

It seemed Severus was recharged now.

Celia glanced at the clock. They’d probably be late to breakfast, but not by much.

She reached behind her to bury her fingers in his hair, and he took advantage of the opening this gave him to cup her breast and run his thumb over and around the nipple through her nightgown. It hardened under his touch, and she sighed contentedly. She wanted to turn and kiss him, but then he might stop what he was doing, and this was very, very nice. Also, she was pretty sure she had a bad case of dragon breath and made a mental note to bring some fresh mint leaves to keep by the bed next time.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, she wriggled around to face him and kissed his lips tentatively, keeping her own firmly closed, then more confidently trailed kisses along his jaw to his ear, flicking her tongue out to tickle the lobe and draw it between her teeth. His hiss of indrawn breath sent sparks of arousal through her, and she slid a hand down to grip his buttocks possessively. He mimicked her and pulled their hips more tightly together. If not for his nightshirt and her nightgown, she thought he might have slipped into her right then. That sounded like a wonderful idea, come to think of it, and as she moved her kisses to his neck and throat, she reached down to find the hem of his nightshirt.

A bell sounded in the room, and for a moment she couldn’t figure out what it was. Severus stiffened and pulled back from her, his expression murderous.

“What is it?”

“Trouble in Slytherin,” he growled, tossing off the covers and grabbing his dressing gown as he lunged out of the bed and into his slippers. He stopped at the doorway and looked at her as if he wanted to say something but then turned and stalked out muttering, “Bloody common room better be in flames if they know what’s good for them.”

She lay there for a few minutes hoping he’d be right back and they could more or less pick up where they’d left off.

A few minutes turned into ten. Fifteen. Still no sign of him. With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed, pulled on her bathrobe, and stuffed her feet into her slippers.

The one compensation there ought to be for this ridiculous arrangement, and I’m doomed not to get the chance to enjoy it.

She shuffled out to the sitting room and found a scrap of parchment and quill to leave Severus a note.

Something witty about continuing this later would be good.

She thought a minute.

I don’t do witty before coffee.

Lame note on the pillow, she went back into the sitting room, tossed a pinch of powder into the fireplace and Flooed back to her cottage to get ready for the day.

Goddess help any Slytherin who so much as breathes wrong in my classes today!

~ ~ ~

“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted over the din.

Several chairs had been overturned, two third-years had bloody noses, all six Prefects were holding onto students who had presumably been fighting and showed signs of hex damage, and in a corner, Lightfeather was shaking his hand trying to get something off it. None of them answered him, but at least the room grew silent.

“What in Merlin’s name have you dunderheads got to say for yourselves?” he demanded.

None of them answered, so he caught the eyes of the likeliest suspects.

Merlin’s beard, this started over a photograph?

“Lightfeather! What is that on your hand?” he barked.

The boy held his hand out wordlessly. As the glimpse in Harrington’s mind had suggested, it was a picture of Miss Hollingberry.

Sentimental fool. I warned him his housemates would be unsympathetic at best.

“Finite Incantatem,” he cast sharply, and the photograph fell to the floor where the boy wisely did not scramble immediately to retrieve it.

Fortunately Harrington’s Permanent Sticking Charm was imperfect. Not that any first-year should have attempted one.

“Since none of you will explain yourselves,” he continued, “you can all serve detention with Mr. Filch tonight. Prefects,” he added, “I expect to see you in my office during the lunch hour to explain why you were unable to prevent a squabble between two first-years from turning into …” He surveyed the room with a sneer. “… this and found it necessary to disrupt my morning.”

By the end of this speech, he knew his voice had become a snarl, but he hardly cared.

“Now, get yourselves to breakfast or to the hospital wing if you must, but not before you put. Right. This. Room.” He turned and stalked out of the Slytherin Common Room and back to his quarters.

Returning to find his rooms empty did not help his mood in the least, though Celia’s note mentioned that she did wait awhile, soothing his ego. A little.

He quickly bathed, dressed, and made his way to the Great Hall in order to ensure the rest of Slytherin had not lost their minds as well. On his way in, he saw Celia in the hallway talking to a very familiar Auror with hair a violent shade of green. He ignored the look of indignation on Celia’s features as he passed them.

By the time she joined him at the staff table, her expression had shifted to one far more neutral, but she barely spoke as she quickly ate her breakfast.

The Slytherins in the Great Hall were reasonably well-behaved. A few quailed under his gaze, and he resolved to watch those particular students more carefully throughout the day.

When she stood to leave for her first class, Celia did not speak, merely shooting him a clearly annoyed look.

For a day that had started with such promise, it did not appear to be going well.

~ ~ ~

Celia stood in front of her mirror, putting the finishing touches on her hair. It was not as though Willow would care how she looked, and really, after a trip through a Floo, nobody looked their best, but she still felt as if she were heading into an inspection, and everything ought to be in place. Also, she was just enjoying the moment of increasingly rare solitude and simply being in her own quarters.

Nervous as she was, Celia was very much looking forward to this meeting with Willow and Kennedy. It would be a relief to be around people she’d known for more than six months. For that matter, it would be a relief to wear Muggle clothing for an evening without feeling like she had to hide it. She finished off her braid, smoothed an almost invisible wrinkle from her shirt, and went to the sitting room to meet Severus.

He had opted to wear a modified version of his usual garb, leaving off only the teaching robes. It had been something of a toss-up, she thought, whether he was going to feel more out of place wearing wizarding clothes when everyone else was in Muggle outfits, or whether he’d be more comfortable wearing clothes that were familiar. It was probably going to be uncomfortable enough for him to be the oldest person and only man present.

And really, am I going to complain about the frock coat? Of course not.

“Are you ready?” he asked when she entered the room. His tone was clearly impatient.

“Almost.”

She proceeded to re-check her wand’s positioning in her sleeve-sheath, the knife in the ankle-sheath of her boot, and the stake beside it.

“Is all of that really necessary?” he asked, as she looked critically at the sword she’d just pulled out from under the sofa.

She glanced at him. “If one of your former students had just screwed up so massively you had to travel from who knows where in the middle of doing who knows what to not only bail her out but then back her up, wouldn’t you start things off with a little test?”

He gave a little nod to concede the point.

“Even if she doesn’t specifically test me, I’d really better show up prepared. But not over-prepared.” She tucked the sword back under the sofa and stood. “Ready?”

“I have been,” he said dryly.

“It’s not like you actually need to come, Severus,” she pointed out for what felt like the eightieth time.

“Minerva was quite clear, I thought.”

She glared at him. “She said she wanted a full report. I can report just fine all by myself.”

“Yes, but your perspective is likely to be quite different,” he replied blandly.

With a huff, she re-cast the Anti-Eavesdropping Spell just in case, grabbed a bit of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace and, when the flames flashed green, said the address of the house where Willow and Kennedy were staying and stepped in. She spun rapidly and then tumbled out of the other end of the connection, bringing up a Shield as she did.

“Gee, happy to see you, too,” Willow said with a smile.

Celia dropped the Shield, though she kept her guard up, cast a quick Cleansing Charm to remove the soot, and gave her mentor a hug.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Will,” she said with a grin. “I’m just waiting to see what you’ve got up your sleeve for me.” Releasing the redhead, she turned and gave Kennedy a somewhat briefer hug just as Severus stepped out of the Floo. She almost tossed a Shield over him but decided to wait and see what would happen. Nothing, it seemed, as he rid himself of soot without incident.

“I can never remember what order you’re supposed to do this in,” she said, “so I’ll just wing it as usual.” She took his arm and gestured to their hostesses. “Severus Snape, I would like you to meet Willow Rosenberg, my teacher, and Kennedy Rosenberg, her wife and my fellow Slayer. Willow, Kennedy, this is Severus, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Willow said, extending her hand to him.

He accepted and gave it a firm shake. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well,” he said, then repeated the exchange with Kennedy.

*Is he always so into the all-black thing?*

*Pretty much.*

*I guess I can kind of see what Giles is talking about.*

Celia scowled. *I see no comparison whatsoever.*

“I hate when they do this,” Kennedy complained.

“Legilimency?” Severus asked.

“No, telepathy,” she replied. “There’s a difference, but don’t ask me to explain it.”

Celia rolled her eyes at her fellow Slayer and turned to him, saying, “Telepathy only communicates audio and visual information, no emotions or other sensations, and doesn’t require eye contact. Willow can broadcast to pretty much anybody. I can only ‘talk’ to her, and I have a much shorter range. If not for the spell she did to ‘teach’ me, I probably wouldn’t even be able to do that.” She turned back to her teacher. “Where were you, by the way?”

“When?”

“Monday.”

“Oh. India.”

Celia’s eyes opened wide. She turned back to Severus. “We still don’t know the maximum of Willow’s range, but, um … I think that’s the maximum distance so far.”

*Oh, I don’t know,* Willow continued, *Tall, pale, lots of black, sketchy past. Yeah, I see Giles’ point.*

*For Goddess’ sake, Will, let’s start with the basics: I prefer my men with a pulse.*

*There is that.*

Celia decided she’d had enough teasing and added rather nastily, *And without their own lunar cycle.*

“Ouch!” Willow said aloud with a smirk.

“What?” Kennedy asked, looking as if she were getting ready to pound Celia for whatever she might have just said. After a pause, she smirked, too. “Oh, well, that might explain that little anomaly in your past, Red.”

Celia just rolled her eyes. “Can we maybe come the rest of the way in and get comfy, then get on with the real interrogation?”

“Oh, where are my manners?” Willow exclaimed in obviously false domestic horror. She gestured for everyone to follow her over to the very comfortable-looking chairs and sofa.

Just as she began to follow, Celia felt rather than heard something off to her side. Turning, she saw a vampire headed straight at her. She bent, pulled out the stake, and took advantage of her lowered position to use the vamp’s momentum against him, flipping him onto his back. She swung her arm down in a quick arc and stopped with the stake resting just over his heart.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna stake me now, are you?” asked Spike indignantly.

“Give me one good reason not to,” she retorted.

“I did save the world, you know.” The ridges on his face faded and his fangs receded.

She shrugged. “Name me one person in this room who hasn’t. You want to impress me, you’ve got to try harder.”

“How often is a bloke supposed to save the world before Slayers stop trying to stake him every chance they get?”

“Weekly,” she replied, as she replaced the stake and offered him a grudging hand up. “What the hell are you doing here, Spike?” she asked.

“Still with all the hostility,” he said with a smirk. “And here I’d heard you were all in favor of the reformed bad boys now.”

She didn’t flinch and forced herself not to look and see Severus’ reaction. “Accent on reformed, Spike. Still got that coat, I see.”

“I like this coat!” He pulled on the lapel and looked down at it as if trying to find some flaw.

“Yeah,” she said, “see, as far as I can tell, reformed murderers don’t continue to wear trophies they’ve ripped off their victims’ corpses.”

“It’s not even the same coat,” he retorted.

“Better still. It’s a replica of the coat you ripped off the still-warm corpse of the last Slayer you killed. Yeah, huge improvement. What are you doing here?” She rounded on Willow, keeping Spike well in view. “What’s he doing here?”

“You mean besides proving whether or not something’s wrong with your reflexes?” Willow asked, her eyebrows raised meaningfully. “Why don’t you come sit down and we’ll talk?”

Celia crossed her arms and widened her stance to indicate she was not going anywhere until she heard some answers.

“Well, the main thing is,” Willow said, “that we need information.”

“Obviously.”

“I’ll be working on that magically. And Kennedy and I will be patrolling Hogsmeade, so we’ll see if we pick up anything here. Meanwhile, Spike …”

Celia did not hear the rest as she started to laugh. At first she tried to suppress it. After the first few bursts escaped, however, she gave it up for a lost cause and just doubled over in uncontrollable bitter mirth.

Spike stared at her, then started to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” he asked. His chuckle turned into a full-scale laugh.

“Giles …” she gasped, “has completely … lost … his mind.”

“Well, yeah,” Spike agreed, still laughing.

“The only … possible … thing he could … hope … to accomplish … by sending you here … is to piss me off!” She made a valiant attempt to stop laughing. “The wizards … will make you … for a vampire … and the vamps … will smell your soul … a mile away! It’s the most insane thing … I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Spike stopped laughing. “Hey!”

“I think Giles kinda has something else in mind,” Willow said, taking Celia by the arm and leading her to sit on the sofa by which Severus was standing.

“Oh, really?” Celia asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm, the laughter finally abating. She sat and Severus joined her once Kennedy and Willow had sat as well. “Gee, I think it might be too subtle. No, wait, I think I’ve got it. He’s done ranting at me, so instead he’s decided to send me a spy I don’t trust and don’t believe has actually reformed. And apparently that little message was more important than coming up with an effective strategy.”

“No, I don’t think …” Willow looked at Severus, who scowled at her, and then at Spike. “Well, okay, that might be part of it. But he does actually have a plan, and we didn’t have any better ideas. I mean, we could try using someone Angel could get through what’s left of Wolfram and Hart, but you never know if they’re going to stay bought. And Spike does actually have a good track record since the whole getting his soul back thing.”

“Yeah. Because having a soul keeps loads of people from being all evil,” Celia felt compelled to point out. “And if using a vamp with a soul was the best idea anyone had, why not send Angel?”

“He's still got his hands pretty full trying to de-evil Wolfram and Hart. Celia, I know the thing with Nikki really bothers you,” Willow said. “I get that. But even Robin has managed to deal with it, and she was his Mom.”

“Right, well, apparently Giles and I have this much in common then: we both have trouble letting go of things that don’t directly involve us.”

“Yeah, about that? Not so much,” Willow said.

“Come again?”

“You need to let up on Giles.” Her teacher looked at her sternly, leaning forward in her chair.

I should’ve known she wouldn’t back me up on this, Celia thought. He must have told her about that Floo conversation last night. She’d told him what she thought of his attitude towards Severus and had been treated to a long list of things she already knew cited as supposed evidence. That conversation hadn’t ended well. “Oh, really? Why should I do that?” She stole a glance at Severus who was doing an impressive imitation of a statue.

“How much do you remember from when I first came over here?”

“When you …” Celia thought a moment. “Nothing, really. It pretty much goes from The Yellow Crayon Speech to when you started working with the coven. You weren’t doing any magic or having any done on you in between.”

“I kind of thought that might be the case. Giles didn’t believe me.” Willow sighed. “You actually should, you know. Maybe I was just so drained, being around all that magic didn’t permeate the memories the same way.”

“Being around all what magic? What does this have to do with anything?”

“See, when Giles brought me over here, we didn’t go straight to Devon. He decided he wanted to see if his old mentor could help first. The one who helped him get straightened out back in his Ripper days.”

Celia didn’t think that clarified anything, so she simply gestured for Willow to continue.

“So instead of going straight to Devon, we came here.”

“Here? Hogsmeade? Who was it? And why …”

“Not Hogsmeade. Hogwarts.” Willow settled back into her chair as if resting her case.

“Oh,” Celia said. This still wasn’t fitting together. “But who … oh!”

Willow nodded, and Celia did a quick comparison of dates that she’d never thought to compare before.

“But that means, you would have gotten there either right before or …”

“Right after, actually,” Willow said, sadly. “It was kinda chaotic. Lots of Ministry people running around talking about closing the school. We only stayed long enough to find out what had happened and then bailed.”

From the corner of her eye, Celia saw Severus stiffen.

“So that time, the day you sensed the Hellmouth preparing to open, when you said Giles had gone all …” Celia swallowed hard, finding it impossible to even say the former Headmaster’s name all of a sudden.

“Yeah, I was being literal.”

Celia slumped back into the couch. “He only ever told me he knew Minerva,” she said. “Said she was his contact when he was the Council’s liaison to the Order in the seventies and then again for a bit after Buffy … and before you … and then again until the Bringers kind of refocused the Council, but he never said why the Council assigned him the job in the first place.”

“Does this make sense to anyone else?” Kennedy asked, looking very annoyed. She shot glares at them all, mainly at Celia but some at Willow and even Spike, as if he’d know anything.

“Not a clue,” said Spike.

“I believe I have some idea,” Severus said. His expression was pained, though she was sure it appeared unreadable to the rest of them.

Celia turned to him, hesitated for only a second, and reached to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. The look he gave her wasn’t something she’d describe as reassured. If she’d had any idea they’d be bringing that up, she’d have insisted a lot harder that he stay behind. He never talked about it, at least not on purpose, but it was obviously a very painful memory for him. She wondered if he had any idea he sometimes talked in his sleep.

She turned back to Willow.

“He knows why it had to be that way. It’s in the damned history books he had me read, for starters. I understand it still has to hurt. A lot. But … he knows.”

“Emotions aren’t always big with the logic,” Willow said. She turned to Kennedy. “I’ll explain later.”

“You’d better,” Spike replied.

“Well, yeah,” Celia answered Willow. “But … he’s the one always going on about not letting emotions dictate strategy.” She sighed. More complications. “Fine, so he’s not going to let up anytime soon. But there had better be more of a reason than his little ‘message’ for sending him. So, if we can stop being morbid for a sec here, can we talk about what the Evil Undead is supposed to be able to do for us?”

“Actually,” Willow said, rising and gesturing for the rest of them to join her, “first let’s see just how much rust you’ve accumulated these past few months.”

~ ~ ~

He sat on a bench watching Celia sparring with the vampire and the other Slayer in a basement that looked like nothing so much as a cross between the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and a gymnasium, if that gymnasium involved the use of swords, spears, and a truly magnificent-looking axe of some sort. Severus allowed himself a moment to reflect on the events thus far tonight. He had expected to be mostly invisible this evening. His role was primarily that of observer, and frankly that was more at his own insistence than anything Minerva truly wanted. He simply did not feel comfortable with the idea of letting Celia that far out of his sight. He was rather afraid she realized that and did not approve.

Too bad.

A particularly loud clash of swords startled him out of his reverie. She had the vampire pinned against the wall with a blade at his throat, but the other Slayer was getting up from the floor behind her and getting ready to have another go at her.

What is the point to this? Why is she not using magic? She could have had them both Stunned or in full Body-Binds by now. And what in Merlin’s name is Combat Drill Protocol Five?

She kneed the vampire, and Severus winced in masculine sympathy as the creature doubled over. Celia knocked him to the floor, coming around smoothly to block the other Slayer’s sword strike.

Now he began to see their strategy. The two other combatants had maneuvered Celia so that her teacher was behind her and clearly preparing to attack, magical energy sparking along her fingertips.

Faster than he could see what had happened, the vampire and the other Slayer were lying on the floor, tightly bound in black ropes, and Celia was repelling an onslaught of what looked like purple and black lightning. A stray bolt came towards where he was sitting, and Severus blocked it with a negligent flick of his wand.

So she was able to sense the magic behind her and respond, even while seriously distracted. He found that mildly reassuring. Is that their Combat Protocol then? That she cannot use magic until someone else does? That he found disturbing. He hoped the fact that there was a number attached to said protocol meant it was not the only way she had been trained. When among Muggles and many species of demons, yes, magic should not be one’s first choice, but here in the wizarding world, that was another thing entirely.

A series of hexes and curses flew back and forth, neither witch scoring a hit on the other, and Severus noted that the vampire and the other Slayer appeared to be encased in shields as well. He, on the other hand, found himself needing to deflect a few that made it to where he sat. He smirked when he recognized a few of his own devising.

Suddenly, both witches stopped. Her teacher’s hair and eyes had become black, and Celia looked oddly stiff and still. She turned and began to walk towards him, her features strangely blank. After a few paces, however, she stopped, frowned, and turned back to face her teacher, a look of determination now firmly on her face.

“You do realize you’re supposed to use that to make people do things they don’t already want to do, right?” she asked.

Imperius? What happened to the supposed Slayer immunity? And what, precisely, was she trying to make her do?

“Yeah, but it actually took hold for a couple more seconds this way,” her teacher replied with a grin. Her hair and eyes were returning to their normal coloration.

And why is her use of Dark Arts so … literally expressed? That would seem rather a liability.

Though her back was to him, Severus was certain Celia had just rolled her eyes. He could almost hear it.

“And the point to that was?” Celia had her hands on her hips now.

“Just more tests,” the other witch replied with a shrug.

“Since you’re the only one who can cast it on me and make it stick at all, it’d make more sense to have someone else test it.”

Now her teacher shrugged, then waved a hand in Celia’s direction.

Celia flipped her hands out, palms up. “Um, ow! But yet, um, not so much.” She tilted her head as if thinking. “Maybe try it with your wand? Helps me for some spells that I’m not so great with. So does going verbal.” She paused. “You did get a wand, right?”

“Yup, I’m all registered and official now.” The redhead Summoned it from a case on the wall.

Severus suppressed a start at that. It was unusual enough that these witches preferred wandless magic. This Willow had not even owned a wand previously?

“And yet the world still turns,” Celia said with a smile in her voice. “So, what kind is it? No, wait, let me guess … willow?”

“No, silly. Rowan with unicorn tail hair. Yours?”

Celia flicked hers out of its sheath in her sleeve. “Yew with dragon heartstring.”

“So you got the willow wand?” The redhead giggled.

“Y. E. W. It’s a type of tree,” Celia explained, sounding somewhat impatient.

And one not used frequently for wands. Though I suppose a wand from the “tree of death” is appropriate for a witch who is also a Slayer.

“Oh. Well, I should probably get used to using it anyway.”

“Good point. You’re going to feel foolish waving it around at first, or at least I did.”

That Celia was also new to having a wand … was troubling but actually explained rather a lot. There is something very different in how these two work with magic, far more than I had realized.

“Um, guys?” the other Slayer said. “Can we get up now?”

“Just a sec, baby,” Celia’s teacher replied. “Lemme give this a try while you’re all shielded.”

“Not that a shield does jack against it if you do manage to pull it off,” Celia pointed out. “Trust me on that one.”

The other witch’s eyes and hair flashed black again as she cast, “Crucio!”

Severus was on his feet before he realized it and lunged towards the two witches before bringing himself up short.

Celia’s shoulders hunched, and from this new angle he could see her wince. “Okay, ow!” she said. “But yet still, um, no.”

Severus willed his breathing to resume. Despite the fact her teacher had obviously tapped more efficiently into the Unforgivable this time, she had still not been able to channel enough will to cause real pain. Celia was fine.

Her teacher’s appearance began to return to normal once again. It seemed strange that the shift should be so immediate.

Perhaps because she was unsuccessful? Because there was no true intent to torture? More questions I shall want answered.

He felt extremely foolish standing where he was but did not return to his seat.

“Makes it hard to test that theory,” the redhead replied with a frustrated wave of the hand not holding her wand. “Still, I think the problem is your Occlumency. It’s all Slayerish.”

Celia scowled. “And that’s surprising because?”

The two on the ground were abruptly unbound and began clambering to their feet.

“Not surprising so much as I-told-you-so-ey.” The woman bent to give her wife a hand rising and dusted her off before turning back to Celia. “Occlumency isn’t supposed to be three-foot-thick titanium shields or military grade titanium padlocks once you get inside. We’ve talked about this.”

Celia waved a hand, apparently conceding the point. “I’ll work on it. Wasn’t ever a real issue before. Either I wanted someone to stay the hell out or I’d invited them in to see something.”

That also explains rather a lot actually. I wonder if she will accept my help to improve this?

“So, other than that, not all that rusty then,” the redhead said.

“I guess,” Celia agreed, “but then, fighting you has always been like fighting myself.”

“Still,” her teacher insisted, “what the hell happened, Celia? If you’re still this good, how’d they ambush you?”

Is it not glaringly obvious? They were not people she already knew and had fought before, and apparently she has scruples about engaging other humans in combat.

As they walked over to join him, Celia replied, “I still don’t know. Well, I know some. Obviously I was too locked into the idea that if anyone was going to attack me once I was back on the grounds, it would be a student and probably just using the Imperius. Which, you know, not being you, would be kind of useless.”

Severus appended that to the question he already planned to ask her later.

“And?” the redhead pressed.

“And I didn’t hear them, didn’t feel them, didn’t anything them until that one caught my eye.” She scowled. “Best Silencing Spell in the world shouldn’t have kept me from feeling their magic at least, and there’s not supposed to be any way to cloak that.”

“Not supposed to be any way to get onto the grounds either,” Willow pointed out.

“Or out. Doesn’t matter if you call it teleporting or Apparating, you’re not supposed to be able to do it,” Celia agreed.

And not a Vanishing Cabinet to be found, he thought as she took his arm and led him back to the bench to sit.

“Well, that’s some of what we’re hoping Spike can find out,” the other Slayer chimed in.

“No offense, Spike,” Celia said, then paused. “No, wait a minute, get as offended as you want, but I don’t see how you’re going to do that.”

Severus winced inwardly. While she was nowhere near as snide about it, her attitude towards the vampire was entirely too reminiscent of the way Moody had behaved towards him. Still, this was a vampire and, from what she had said, one who had killed more than one Slayer. He was not very inclined to trust such a one either.

The blond vampire shrugged. “Same way I always do. Get a few demons drunk, maybe even a wizard or two. There’s always a few hanging out in demon bars these days. Then, I find anything, I go follow it up.”

“And I’ve taught him how to use owls,” Celia’s teacher added. “Most of the owly post office places open early enough he should be able to get in and out without worrying about daylight.”

Celia cocked an eyebrow. “And the birds don’t freak out?”

The other witch shrugged. “Maybe they can smell his soul.”

Even Lucius managed to send owls. I do not believe they are very discriminating creatures.

“I guess that’s the best we’ve got for now,” Celia admitted with a sigh.

“Yeah,” the vampire said with a glare, “it is. So get off your high horse and say, ‘Thank you, Spike,’ like a good little Slayer.”

Celia crinkled up her nose as if she smelled something foul, causing Severus to experience that internal wince again.

“You know, you’d think it was your mum I killed.”

“You stayed in the States for a long time after Nikki,” Celia pointed out with a glare. “For all I know, you did.” She took a deep breath and her features relaxed. “Fine. Thank you, Spike.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” the other Slayer asked with a yawn.

“It’s getting kind of late, isn’t it?” Celia said.

“Yeah,” the other witch replied, punctuating this with a yawn of her own. “Plus it’s like four in the morning in New Delhi about now.”

Celia shook her head. “We should get going. Saturday afternoon then?”

With a nod, Willow reached for her wife and guided her to stand up, then led the rest of the group back up into the main house, where they said their good-nights and tossed in the Floo powder to travel first to her cottage and then to his quarters.

~ ~ ~

When they arrived in Severus’ dungeon sitting room, Celia decided that a Cleansing Charm wasn’t going to cut it tonight. The soot from the Floo was fast turning to mud with all the sweat, and much as she preferred the shower in her cottage, she decided to take a bath before bed. He had grumbled a bit, then made his own use of the bathroom quickly so that she could take as long as she liked.

She didn’t know whether all the faculty quarters in the castle had bathtubs like this, or whether it was one of the perks of being Head of a House, but Severus’ tub was impressive. Carved out of green marble, it almost created the impression that she was stepping into the ocean. There were several faucets that each offered soap of a different scent. After testing a few, she settled on the sandalwood that he clearly favored. The idea of Severus taking bubble baths made her smile, even though this tap was the least bubbly of the lot.

She dunked her head under the water and scrubbed at her scalp as she resurfaced, reminding herself that she had best bring and leave some shampoo here if this arrangement was going to continue. Plain soap wouldn’t hurt once in awhile, but her hair was too dry to do well with it for long.

And you’d think a Potions master would know better.

She picked up a facecloth and washed the rest of her body. When she had finished, she let the tub begin to drain and positioned herself under the one faucet that ran with only water, trying to get rid of the last of the soap residue. She got out of the tub, dried herself, and put on the bathrobe she’d grabbed during the brief stop at her cottage, then stood in front of the mirror to brush out her still-damp hair. She ignored the mirror’s occasional commentary on her appearance. How did anyone stand these things? Hers was a Muggle mirror. She couldn’t have tolerated it otherwise.

Once she was done, she Charmed her hair the rest of the way dry and gave herself a lopsided smile. Maybe we can pick up where we left off this morning.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about,” the mirror said. “You haven’t done a thing with that hair, nor have you bothered with the most basic Cosmetic Charms.”

“You know,” Celia said, “I’m really surprised Severus hasn’t hexed you into a million pieces by now.”

The only reply was an indignant sniff.

With a shrug, Celia left the bathroom to go see where Severus was and what he was up to. She found him in his sitting room reading a bit of the latest International Journal of Potions in his shirtsleeves.

“Got another letter in it?” she asked.

He made an indignant huffing noise and set the periodical down.

She perched on the arm of his chair. “I didn’t mean to make you stop reading.”

“That article was designed to replace every sedative potion ever invented,” he replied with a smirk. “You have saved me from the indignity of falling asleep out here.”

Funny. He didn’t look bored. Not that I’m arguing.

“So, are you over it now?” she asked. At his questioning look, she continued, “Over thinking you have to keep watch on me every second?”

His eyes narrowed. “You did quite well under controlled circumstances against others you have trained with before.”

She sighed. “And if you think any of them were holding back, especially Willow, you’re really wrong.”

“It is still rather different to actual combat,” he insisted.

“I’ve been in real combat,” she replied. “Lots of it. Granted, something like seventy percent of the time, magic is my unfair advantage in those situations because we’re talking demons who don’t have it. And before I came here, my visits to the wizarding world were measurable in hours because it just made more sense to assign those few cases to Slayer-witches who had grown up with it. But I didn’t get to be the fourth-oldest Slayer by being unable to defend myself and take down some pretty nasty opponents.”

“And yet …”

“And yet, when three assailants – who somehow managed to cloak their magic from me, which is supposed to be impossible – ganged up on me using one of the few curses I’ve been unable to train against, we reached a stalemate.” She looked at him intently. “A stalemate, Severus. I couldn’t fight back actively, but they didn’t get what they wanted either. Well, not all of it, assuming part of their goal was to get at you. Also? One of them ended up dead. Me? Not so much.” She pushed a lock of his hair away from his eyes. “Thank you for breaking the stalemate. Even if I should still throttle you for coming after me by yourself.”

“I will still not agree to your patrolling alone,” he replied.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Not arguing that one. But I don’t need an Auror to escort me to and from my cottage in broad daylight either.”

He made a noise that might have signaled agreement. Or not.

“Madam Kennedy seems uncomfortable around you,” he observed.

“You’re probably right, but that’s not what we were talking about,” she replied with a pointed look.

He stared back at her with a look in his eyes that she’d call defiance if she saw it in a student. It faded and he gave a slight nod. “Agreed.”

“Good.” She stood and moved to sit on the coffee table instead of his armrest. “As far as Kennedy … and if you call her Madam Kennedy she’s probably going to either laugh or hit you … yeah. I guess it still bothers her that Willow and I have this weird connection.”

“Do many of your shared memories include her?” he asked.

“Fortunately no.” She leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees and propping her chin in her hands. “Only a very small handful since Willow did very little magic during the start of their relationship. What bothers her more, I think, is how very many memories I have of Tara, Willow’s first female lover.”

“She is a witch, too, then?”

“She was. And they were both still learning, so a lot of their relationship involved magic. Ergo, lots of memories.”

“Was?” His expression had become guarded. Defensive.

“She died. Was killed, actually.” Celia paused briefly. “It’s still very strange to remember being in love with, and mourning, someone I never met.”

“That must have been confusing for you.”

No, not at all. Why would it be confusing to suddenly remember being in love with a woman when the idea had never crossed my mind before? Do we really have to have this conversation? I’ve left your past well enough alone.

“Yes. It was,” she said finally. “Does that bother you?”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. The connection with Willow? The … confusion?”

“I can hardly fault you for having a past,” he said, his face predictably unreadable. “I have many questions about the memories and the mental link you share with Willow, but it does not bother me,” he said. He looked over to the blazing hearth several feet away, as though it would be easier to speak to it than to her. “Why did you not mention that you were vulnerable to her Imperius?”

She sighed and sat up a bit straighter. “Probably because it didn’t occur to me. It’s not like she was here, and even now that she is, it’s not like she’d use it for anything but training.”

“So only she is able to cast it on you?” he looked at her pointedly.

“Yeah. And I can throw it off, as you saw.” She shrugged. “Some side effect from the data dump, I guess.”

“You still should have mentioned it.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “I will. We’re meeting with Minerva tomorrow anyway to talk about how tonight went, so I’ll bring it up then.”

He was still looking at her kind of strangely.

“More questions?”

“Many.”

Lovely.

“But as you said before, it is growing late.” His features softened slightly.

“Then if that’s enough for now,” she said, relieved if not completely reassured, “can we maybe try to take care of some unfinished business?”

The light in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she was getting at. Of course, the fact that they had flicked down to where her dressing gown had slipped a bit open was pretty clear, too. She stood and took his hand to lead him to his own bedroom.

Once inside, she pulled him down to her for a kiss that quickly became hungry. She made quick work of his shirt as she backed him towards the bed. Reaching around him, she tugged down the covers.

He pulled his lips back from hers. “A bit impatient?”

“I was already impatient before the stupid bell went off this morning,” she murmured. She slipped a hand down to remove his trousers and discovered that he was already becoming hard. Palming his partial erection through the material elicited a very satisfying sound from his throat.

He unfastened the belt of her robe and eased it off her shoulders to pool on the floor behind her, then glided his hands down along her back to cup her buttocks.

Soon she had divested him of the rest of his clothes and nudged him to sit on the edge of the bed and then to lie back. She climbed into the bed next to him, and they spent a long moment just looking at each other. Then he reached for her, tracing the line of one of her breasts gently, teasing the nipple into a hardened nub. She caught his hand and kissed the palm and the inside of his wrist. Passing over the Mark, she trailed kisses along his arm, shoulder, and collarbone, before reclaiming his mouth. This kiss was, if anything, more intense and demanding than the last, and she felt him yield to it. A thrill ran through her. His hands found their way back to her breasts, and she moaned into his mouth.

Shifting position, she moved her attention to his chest. She nuzzled the sparse hair and caressed his nipples delicately with her tongue before grazing them with her teeth. Her hands traveled along his sides as she continued to kiss her way down his torso. He buried his hands in her hair until even that was out of reach, as she continued down along one thigh, skipping the part of him she knew was most begging for her touch, though she let her hair feather over him as she moved.

She kissed her way back up his other leg and slid her hand behind his sac, cupping it and being very careful to keep her touch light as she kissed him gently. A line of kisses along his shaft ended as she circled his tip with her tongue before taking it into her mouth as she continued to fondle him with her hand. His groan sent a thrill through her.

Not wanting him to come too soon, she backed off a little and caressed his tip with her tongue, flicking, lapping, circling. When his hips jerked towards her, she backed away again and blew a little air over him before placing a final light kiss to his tip and then working her way back up his torso.

At least that was her intention until he growled, pulled her up by her shoulders, and rolled her onto her back, bruising her lips and invading her mouth.

“Minx,” he muttered when he broke the kiss, “let’s see how you like it.”

With a wicked smirk, he glided a hand over her breasts so teasingly she almost wondered whether he was actually touching them or just moving the air slightly above them. When she tried to arch up into his hand, he pulled back. Then he was caressing her stomach, barely brushing over the curls below and pulling away again as she sought more contact.

When he finally slipped a finger into her, she couldn’t hold back a moan of relief. He removed it almost immediately, and she whimpered until he slid down and replaced it with his tongue. As he used it to map every fold and corner, she heard herself begging for more. He flicked his tongue over her clit lightly once, twice, sending sparks shooting through her, and then stopped.

Suddenly he was kissing her, and she thrilled at the taste of herself on his lips and tongue as his cock nudged against her, begging for entrance. With a quick movement, she had him on his back once again and looked down into his intense black eyes as she very deliberately sank down onto him, watching them widen deliciously as he filled her. He took hold of her hips, and for a moment, she let him hold her still.

Then it became too much, and she had to move. She glided along his length, enjoying the feel of her breasts brushing his chest every bit as much as the feel of his cock inside her. Soon even that wasn’t enough, and she tried to find the right angle so that he would hit … yes! If she stayed right there, every downstroke managed to reach just the right places, inside and out. That this gave him a bit of room to caress her breasts as well was an added bonus.

His grip on her breasts tightened, and his face became a rictus of pleasure that could as easily have been pain as he thrust up into her suddenly, sharply, and as she felt him come, something inside her chest seemed to swell unbearably even as she followed him over the edge.

When she came back to herself, she looked down at him fondly and kissed first the tip of his nose and then his lips. She rolled to her side and took him with her, trying to keep them connected. He tried to comply but soon slipped from her as they continued to exchange lazy, sated kisses. Celia noticed that he appeared to be fighting the urge to fall asleep. Once again, the room practically buzzed with magic, and though it wasn’t as pronounced as the last time, it still had a very lulling effect. Her eyes fluttered closed. She forced them open again, wanting to continue looking at him just a bit longer.

“If you are tired, you should sleep,” he said softly.

“I was about to say the same to you.”

She let him draw her to him and smiled as he tucked her head under his chin and wrapped an arm around her waist. She was amused when, after the briefest of hesitation, he also hooked a leg around both of hers.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured.

He didn’t reply.