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: If you think I own these characters or am making any money off them, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.
A/N: Sorry for the long delay. This chapter gave me a very rough time about getting written. Hopefully 22 will come along a bit more smoothly (and quickly), as I ended up having to write quite a bit of it before 21 would cooperate.

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Chapter 21

Severus woke, not with tears this time, but filled with despair nonetheless. It was a dream he hadn't had in a very long time, but he didn't require Sybil Trelawney or a Muggle psychologist to explain why he would dream it now. The entire wizarding world celebrating as he mourned. Dumbledore offering comforting lies.

Celia stirred beside him. He hoped she would return to sleep, but that hope was dashed when she turned and looked at him. She didn't say a word, just wriggled herself around and insinuated herself into his arms, as though she were the one seeking comfort. As always, he was not entirely sure whether she was aware of his nightmare or waking from one of her own.

“You said that one of the older Slayers had died,” he murmured, surprising himself by speaking. “More than once, in fact.”

“Yes.” She shifted slightly to look up at him, her eyes filled with questions that she thankfully did not voice, then settled back to rest her cheek against his chest.

“Did she ever tell anyone what she saw?” he asked. “What was there?”

“Not really,” Celia replied. “At least, not to me.” Pause. “There was one thing she said. Well, sang, but that's not important except that it was magic, and Willow was there, so ... But all she really said was that … it was peaceful. Better than here. She was pretty upset at the time about getting brought back.”

That sounded reassuring, but it did not seem to fit with recent evidence. Surely sacrificing oneself for one's son was as worthy as dying whilst fighting demons.

“So she was not worried for the family and friends she had left behind?”

He felt Celia shrug. “I don't really know, Severus. If she ever said any more about it, it wasn't around me or around Willow while there was magic going on.” Another pause. “I'm sorry. I wish I knew more.”

There seemed nothing to say to that. It was not as though he could truly fault her for not knowing what lay beyond death. It was unusual to know that much. Nor did he have any right to resent that she had been able to see and converse with Lily and had not thought to ask ... any number of questions he would like to have asked.

“I asked Lily to take a message to my parents,” she continued. “She said they already know how much I love them.”

He froze. He had deliberately asked about that Slayer rather than Lily herself.

“I don't know why I didn't ask more. What it's like where they are. Whether they're happy. But she seemed happy, even while she was being all concerned about Harry.” Her arms tightened around his waist. “I think it's a good place, wherever it is.”

The weight that had seemed to press on him ever since he'd awakened—really for the past twenty-four years —seemed to lighten ever so slightly.

“She … she said something else, too.” Celia's shoulders stiffened, and she did not continue right away.

He waited her out.

She pulled back a bit to look up at him again. “She said that you would ‘do much to protect someone you care about.’”

“Why would she say such a thing?” He swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat.

How much did Lily tell her? Is that what she would not speak of? I cannot believe she would continue to share my bed if she knew, but ...?

“She sort of misunderstood something I'd said,” Celia replied. “Seemed to think I was doubting you. I wasn't.” She took a breath. “But maybe that's not the only reason. Maybe she said it because you needed to hear it.”

“I see,” he said, though he did not.

Celia lifted her head and looked over his shoulder at the clock behind him, then returned to her earlier position, resting against him, head tucked under his chin.

“We still have awhile before breakfast,” she said. “Think you can get some more sleep?”

He had not thought so, but not long after her breaths had slowed and lengthened, he found himself drifting back into a much more peaceful slumber.

~ ~ ~

The Hogsmeade House training room was crowded this morning, but so far it seemed to be working out well enough. In one corner, Severus was helping Kennedy test the limits of the Shield Talisman Willow had made for her. So far, it seemed to be living up to the predicted flexibility in letting her choose how curses were deflected, given the damage she was managing to do to the wall with his hexes.

In another, Harry was helping Xander adapt to his new eye and work out additional ways to use it. Celia was still skeptical, but it did look, so far, like he could at least manage to activate the spells embedded in it. How he’d manage with it in the Muggle world was another problem, but it was his problem. And Giles’. And possibly the Ministry’s. Definitely not Celia’s.

She had her own problems, which at the moment included keeping Willow out of her mind without walling her out completely—or as completely as anyone could keep Willow out of anywhere—while carrying on a completely unrelated conversation. So far, the conversation was winning, with a bit of help from Xander and Harry’s distracting experiments.

*I don’t know, Will. I’m not sure I want to know. And I’m not going into any more detail than that, because it’s his stuff, not my stuff.*

Celia watched as the magical eye levitated with ease and scanned the room a bit shakily, making it rather obvious who was controlling which functions.

“Hey, I can see myself! Cool!” Xander grinned. “And not at all like a creepy out-of-body experience.”

*But obviously it’s worrying you, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.*

The eye turned to where Celia and Willow stood and looked them up and down. Very slowly. Celia found herself wondering how a disembodied eye managed to leer.

“Remember that thing?” Willow asked, hands on her hips and finally breaking eye contact with Celia.

He looked sheepish. “The thing where I'm only supposed to use my powers for good and not to look through women's clothes?”

“That's the one.”

“Well, really, I was—ow!”

Celia whipped around to see where that Stinging Hex had come from just in time to see Severus turning back to throw another round of jinxes at Kennedy. She bit her lip and stifled a giggle.

*Worried might not be the right word, Will. At least, not about that.*

The eye fell and rolled along the floor until it hit Harry's shoe, and Xander bent to pick it up.

“No.” Harry grabbed Xander's arm, stopping him. “Try Summoning it.”

“Right.” Xander brandished his new wand like a sword. “Accio eyeball!”

The eye turned a bit, presumably in response to one of the built-in spells that let Xander choose where it would look, but it didn’t actually move towards him at all.

“So maybe the wand isn’t that much help after all,” Harry said with a sigh.

“Hey, I’m happy with the stereo vision. If turning up with a wand is what it took for St. Mongoose to be good with making it for me, then that’s Galleons well-spent. Just … never, ever tell me what it works out to in dollars, okay?”

“That's, um, good,” Celia said, wondering how he’d even managed to get fitted for a wand in the first place but not about to ask. “Except, are we sure this is a good idea?” She waved her hands at the incredulous looks both men and Willow gave her. “Not the eye itself, ‘cause I'm all for you not having to make do with just the one. The using it like something out of Star Wars to check out the Chamber part.”

She was seriously uncomfortable with the idea of either Kennedy or Xander going into the Chamber of Secrets. While the Shield Talisman was proving to be far more useful than a static Shield Charm embedded in a piece of clothing, it was strictly defensive. Reactive. There was no way Kennedy could cast anything, and whatever they found was probably going to need magic more than swords and crossbows to deal with it. And Xander ... his idea pretty much sounded like using himself for cannon fodder. Or basilisk fodder.

“It's not the same thing at all,” Xander argued. “That was a training device that shot lasers. Besides—”

“If you make another Leia comment, I'm going to have to hurt you,” Celia cut in. “Which would be kind of ironic, considering my point is I don't think it’s safe for you to be in this squad anyway with the only magic you’ve got in your eye.”

“Hey! I’ll have you remember that I’ve been dealing with the monsters and magic since long before you got Slayified.”

“It's just a precaution anyway,” Willow cut in. “There probably aren't any more basilisks. As far as we know, they don't reproduce.”

“But if we're going to have someone play canary in the coal mine, I vote for Spike.” Celia spread her hands in front of her. “I'm perfectly fine with him getting Petrified. And Harry said that's all that happens to dead people, same as anyone else seeing it through some medium or other. Vampires might even be immune for all we know.”

“Well, Spike's not here anymore, and since when would you rather work with the evil undead?” Xander asked.

“Since never,” Celia admitted. “But still—”

“Giles has Spike on another mission,” Willow interrupted. “One that actually requires a vampire.”

Celia felt her resolve deflate.

“How...? Right, you just asked,” Xander said.

“No, I asked as soon as we got back, and I heard your little plan,” Willow replied. “I'm not crazy about it either, but it's not like you haven't been in equally bad situations plenty of times.”

*What, are we going to bring a wrecking ball down with us?*

Willow shot Celia a look and continued, “And we should have a Watcher along. Would you really rather have Giles right now?”

Celia squirmed. “Tactically? Probably. Personally? I'm thinking not. He's still not really dealing well with ... everything.”

“Are you surprised?” Xander asked. “And before you answer, let me remind you of where this conversation started.”

With Spike. Right. Who Xander also didn't exactly trust, but that wasn't the point.

“You're kind of right, though, Celia. I mean, not that a Watcher’s really supposed to do anything but observe, but we all know that's not happening with either of them. And Giles'd need to get juiced up somehow. But there’s no reason I can’t make more Shield Talismans. Talismen. Whatever.” Willow looked thoughtful. “I might even be able to add something that would … hmmm.”

Celia had a sinking feeling that she was losing what little control she'd ever had over this mission. And she couldn't really argue this particular point, considering that Willow was actually agreeing with her. Sort of.

“And suddenly I'm hoping that Giles has urgent business to keep him in Hamburg,” Celia said with a sigh. “Why don't we get back to—”

“Getting your Occlumency less Slayerish? Definitely,” Willow agreed. “But if you think that's going to distract me from suggesting this to Giles later, you don't know me as well as you really should.”

Celia shrugged. Yes, she knew better. Couldn't blame a girl for trying though.

*So, if worried isn’t the word, what is?*

It was going to be a long afternoon.

~ ~ ~

Severus was certain this day would never end. While he was grateful for the little time he’d had available to contemplate the things that had weighed on him so heavily this morning, spending the day hurling hexes at Kennedy, inspecting the Slytherin dormitories after complaints of Dark Artifacts being smuggled in (of which he had found two), and now assisting Celia in her pursuit of an impossible potion were not the ways he would have preferred to spend this day. The long hours of solitude that he’d once enjoyed seemed a distant memory.

They both stared into the cauldron. Celia was biting her lip, clearly incensed. Severus was very deliberately not comparing the fluorescent blue substance to the disaster one of his fourth-year students had turned in last week. At least this mess had the advantage of being a complex experiment, which was far more able to be excused for going seriously wrong.

“So, too much silverweed, maybe?” she asked.

“I do not believe so, no,” he replied, stirring the mixture cautiously as he examined the irregularities in the color and consistency. “From all the projections we made, this was the formula most likely to succeed. Unless you deviated from the proportions we discussed?”

“Not likely!” she huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, I’m out of ideas. Maybe the next generation of plants will cooperate.”

“It’s not as though you are trying to bring out a recessive trait,” he pointed out.

“No, but it took a lot of magic to make the cross take at all. Maybe this generation can interbreed without so much help, and the qualities I’m looking for will harmonize better in the next batch.”

“I believe I did tell you that this was unlikely to work,” he could not resist saying.

She glared at him. “Not this time. But it will. There may not be a Potential here to need it, but there will be others.”

“If you say so,” he replied, obscurely pleased by her determination as she began reassembling her kitchen, save one well-warded corner that housed the far more important potion. “You realize you could leave that for the house-elves.”

“I need to take out my frustration on something,” she snarled.

“Really,” he said silkily and smirked when she rolled her eyes at him.

“Yes, really,” she replied. “And get your mind out of the gutter.” As she wiped the counter clean, she added under her breath just barely loud enough for him to hear, “For now.”

Just then, the Floo whooshed to life in the sitting room, and Celia tossed down her cleaning rag to see who it was. Severus remained in the kitchen, Cleansing the various implements and Banishing them to their appropriate locations. Whilst he would have instinctively listened in any case, he hardly needed to strain himself to do so, as Celia was very soon raising her voice at what sounded like her Head Watcher.

“You know what? Fine!” she snapped. “But I’m still the Slayer in charge of this mission, and if you’re going to be part of it, there’s something you need to deal with first.”

A pair of dull thuds announced the man’s arrival into the sitting room, rather as though he had been yanked through the Floo instead of stepping through properly.

“I can’t imagine what you mean,” the man said. “And while you are the Slayer in charge, you might recall that—”

“That what? That the rules you made mean I have some say here? Nope, I recall that just fine.”

The two entered the kitchen, Celia leading the Watcher by his sleeve. The Watcher shot Severus a look of sheer loathing.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded.

“Like you, I am here by Celia’s invitation.” Severus regarded him coldly. “Unlike you, I was providing assistance.”

“Now listen here—”

“Oh, my Goddess, will you both shut up?” Celia looked back and forth between them. “Severus, thank you for your help. I’ll see you at dinner. Giles, you’re coming with me.”

“Should Minerva ask, where shall I tell her you’ve gone?” Severus asked.

She shot him a pained look. “On the grounds. Just … out.”

And with that, she pulled the Watcher out the kitchen door.

Mystified, Severus secured the door and Flooed back to his quarters to answer some correspondence before dinner.

~ ~ ~

For the first bit of the walk, Giles said nothing, nor did he resist. When their destination began to come into view, however, he balked.

“Celia, I have chosen not to come here. You have no right to force this.”

“It’s been eight years, Giles. Eight years and you’re still stuck there.”

“I am not stuck anywhere.”

She tightened her grip on his arm as they approached the white tomb. He didn’t say anything more as she led him to the marble structure, released his arm, and moved away to offer him at least the illusion of privacy while not risking some staff member or student disturbing him. She added a nonverbal Muffliato so at least she wouldn’t hear whatever he might end up saying. For a long while, he stood utterly still, and she started second-guessing herself, wondering if this really was what he needed.

Then he began to pace and gesture. The buzzing in her ears waxed and waned as his voice rose and fell. She winced when he struck out at the stone structure and found herself shedding sympathetic tears. An hour later, when his rage and tears seemed to have subsided, she approached him carefully where he knelt, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder and lifting the Muffling Spell.

“He should have told me,” he muttered. “There might have been something in the Watchers’ Libraries. He knew I was researching resurrection magics and soul magics because of what Willow had done. I might have been able to help.”

A cool breeze swept by, drying the tears she had shed as she’d witnessed his grief. He stood slowly, awkwardly, reminding her of every one of his more than fifty years. His hands were badly bruised where he had pummeled the marble, and she thought he might have actually broken a knuckle. Celia briefly wished she had some healing potions on her since he’d never go see Poppy. At least Willow should be able to fix him up.

“I wish I could have met him,” she said softly. “And I’m glad he was there when you needed him.”

“I needed him when I brought Willow here.”

“You needed him more when you were Ripper. If someone hadn’t helped you then, who knows what would have happened to Buffy or any of us.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure I want to imagine that.”

“Come here,” he said softly and enfolded her in a brief, avuncular hug.

“Okay,” she said, once he released her. “So, are we good, then? Can we go plot without all the remarks and maybe even pull this off without any commercial breaks for insults?”

The moment broken, they both turned and began the walk back to the cottage. Celia thought that, all things considered, he seemed more at peace than she had seen him since February or possibly ever outside Willow’s memories. It was a start.

~ ~ ~

Scanning his notes, Severus compared the two seemingly unrelated sets of formulae. There was something at the very edge of his awareness that he could not quite verbalize. He was uncertain whether it would solve the problems with either potion, but he did feel that it was significant. Trying to capture it was like trying to bottle the steam wafting from a potion, the merest motion in its direction causing it to dissipate.

He glanced at the clock. Nearly another hour until dinner. He picked up his quill and wrote a brief response to Hermione’s latest missive. He considered and rejected the idea of suggesting she take into account any parallel properties between Veritaserum and Dreamless Sleep. There were none. They shared no ingredients, uses, or side effects. Whatever might be lurking about the corners of his mind, it surely wasn’t that.

A few lines later, he ruthlessly made the suggestion nonetheless, adding but not explaining the possibility of a variant of Dreamless Sleep that would block only divinatory dreams. Hermione would most likely think him mad, but she would also set about systematically dismantling the idea, something he did not feel he had the luxury of time to do. She might even turn something up in the process. It had happened before.

As he sealed the parchment, he felt an odd twinge. There was no reason at all that he should not write to a colleague, particularly in aid of furthering research relevant to pursuing the new Death Eaters. He had not asked the details of Celia’s past affairs—and from what little she’d said, it seemed they had been numerous—and she had no need to know about his own.

Annoyed with himself and, inexplicably, both witches, he set off for the owlery.

~ ~ ~

“You’re pretty confident that he can manage it then?” Celia asked. Despite having seen Xander training with Harry for three days running now, she still had her doubts about including him in their venture into the Chamber of Secrets.

“I was a second-year the last time I went down there,” Harry pointed out. “And I lost my wand. So far as we know, all we’re going to find down there is a basilisk corpse and a puddle of ink.”

“So far as we know, we could find a bunch of basilisk spawnlings and an army of Turok Hans.” Not that she’d dreamed of them lately, but it was still weird that she ever had.

“At least he’s seen a Turok Han before.”

Celia slumped back into her chair and looked around Harry’s office.

“You’re right. I just … I don’t usually get the magic-heavy missions, and my team is usually mostly Slayers. It doesn’t feel right to have someone along with no magic, no Slayer powers, nothing but a magical eye that you’re going to have to help control for it to be any use as an advance scouting device.”

Her eyes settled on the photo of Harry’s mother. She looked almost exactly as she had in that place, wherever it really was.

Not like having magic is any guarantee.

“Did … did my mum say anything to you about me?” he asked.

Celia looked up at him. “No. She was kind of focused on what she wanted me to do for you.” She forced a smile. “That kind of says it all, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.”

They were both quiet for a minute.

“Anyway,” Harry went on, “yeah, I do think he can handle it. I mean, considering some of the things he’s managed without magic, I think I’m just as glad to have him there, wand or not.”

Celia extended a hand, palm up in surrender. “I guess. There’s just something I don’t like about the whole situation.”

“Well, if you think I’m looking forward to going back down there and deal with this … this soul-wound-thing, you’re off your nut.” He visibly suppressed a shudder. “Thought I was done with anything to do with Voldemort years ago.”

“There’s that.” She rested her chin in her hand. “Something about it all just seems too easy. Too pat. So you know something’s going to go ridiculously wrong.”

“True. But it won’t be any of the things you dream up, so you might as well stop trying.”

She had to admit, he had a point.

“I mean, look at my parents! They thought they’d taken every precaution, and it was the person they least suspected who sold them out.”

Celia nodded carefully, keeping her opinion of their idea of “every precaution” to herself.

“I mean, that rat was supposed to be their friend! Bad as it was that Snape told Voldemort about the prophecy, at least he didn’t know it was them. And when he did find out—”

Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt.

“Wait, what?”

“Pettigrew was a rat. Literally. Wasn’t that in …?” Sudden comprehension dawned across Harry’s face. “That’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

“The books never said who,” Celia replied, feeling like she was fighting for every breath. She tried to frame a question and couldn’t.

“Look, I still really don’t like him, but what I was trying to say was once he found out who the prophecy was about, Snape went to Dumbledore.”

“Oh, so that’s all right then.” She’d gone as cold as the stone beneath her feet. “It was perfectly fine so long as he didn’t know who it was that was having a baby. Just some anonymous kid going to get killed is no big deal.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

A couple of puzzle pieces slotted into place in her mind. She’d been trying to tell herself all day that it was Dumbledore that Severus had been thinking of this morning.

No, this is a whole different kind of guilt.

The stone seemed to press up against her feet, and the walls felt like they were closing in. She stood up.

“I have to go. I … I need to think.”

Whatever Harry said to that, she didn’t hear it because she was already halfway down the hall. She wasn’t sure where she was going, except away. Out.

Out, out, down the stairs so fast it was a wonder the few students she saw got out of her way in time. She lost track of how many flights she’d traveled, didn’t care that it shouldn’t have taken this long to get away from Harry’s office, so long as she kept moving.

She ran out of stairs and darted across the Entrance Hall for the main doors, when she finally ran into someone who didn’t get out of her way. Someone who, instead, grabbed onto her arms.

“What in Merlin’s name is wrong?” Severus demanded.

She just stared at him. It took her a moment to realize why he looked so blurry, so watery.

“I can’t … I can’t look at you right now.”

She wrenched herself out of his grasp and ran out the doors and into the fresh evening air.

~ ~ ~

Severus stormed into his quarters.

Potter. It has to have been Potter. Always and only a Potter.

That look of revulsion in her eyes could only have come from one source, and he knew she’d planned to meet with Potter after dinner.

Picking up a jar of ink, he hurled it at the cold fireplace. As it shattered, it spattered not only the stone but also Celia’s favorite jumper that she’d left folded over the edge of a nearby chair, leaving a long red splash like a gaping wound across it. The tinkling of glass shards seemed to go on much longer than it took for all the pieces to fall to the floor.

So much for her pretty words about the past not being important to her. By now, she is probably telling her Watcher how right he was.

It was only a matter of time. He should never have let himself grow accustomed to her presence. Had it not been this, she would certainly have left at the end of term. There had never been any chance their liaison would have been more than temporary, bizarre magical connection notwithstanding.

That was hardly a comforting thought. He paced his sitting room like a caged Quintaped.

Briefly, he wondered if she might calm down, given a bit of time. He shoved the thought aside.

Hardly likely, and better that she should not.

Whipping out his wand, he Summoned all her belongings into a single pile, the ink-stained jumper draped across the top. It was a rather larger pile than he’d expected.

“Dobby!”

CRACK!

“Yes? What is Professor Snape be wanting?”

“Would you please return these items to Professor Reese’s cottage?” he asked evenly.

“Yes, Professor Snape, sir.” The house-elf snapped, and the pile of Celia’s belongings vanished. “Is there be anything else?”

“No.” He quickly reconsidered. “Yes. Please do not tell Minerva or any other staff of this.”

The elf’s face grew worried. “But, Professer Snape, sir, Dobby is a good free house-elf. Dobby has to answer any questions the Headmistress—”

“Fine!” he spat. “But if she does not ask, you will kindly not volunteer the information.”

Eyes even wider than normal, Dobby nodded before disappearing with another CRACK.

Severus winced inwardly. He’d always prided himself on treating the elves well. It was one of the ways he’d held himself apart from the other Death Eaters. Proof that he was neither as arrogant nor as cruel as the rest, and something he’d held to long after the need to even pretend to be one of them had passed. An arrogant conceit itself, or so it now seemed.

He had more than two hours until his scheduled patrol. Perhaps another surprise inspection of the Slytherin dormitories would be advisable in the meantime. No doubt they were making ill use of this last night of their holiday and could do with a reminder of the sort of discipline he expected of them.

He refrained from slamming the door on the way out.

~ ~ ~

“Celia, that was pathetic! Are you even trying?” Willow demanded.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She slumped back into her chair. “Not like you can’t get by my Occlumency anyway.”

“A point which has absolutely nothing to do with you learning to misdirect instead of walling yourself off in concrete.” Willow shrugged. “You’re the one who wants to go play Trojan Horse.”

“‘Wants’ is overstating it a bit. And nobody else has come up with a better idea to find their hideout.” Celia made a frustrated gesture. It wasn’t like she was looking forward to getting herself captured and probably Crucioed again. Then again, right now it didn’t seem possible that she could feel much worse. “Besides, can’t we just get through the Chamber part first? We have a few weeks to make the other happen once that’s done.”

“If you can’t concentrate better than this, I’m not sure you’re up for that!”

It was Celia’s turn to shrug. Sure, the potion would be done tonight, and Harry and Severus should probably take it right away, but they weren’t planning to open the Chamber until Saturday, when most of the students would be out of the castle watching Quidditch.

I can get my act together by then. Can’t I?

Willow crossed her arms and gave her a hard stare. “It’s been two days. If you’re not going to make up, don’t, but you need to get your head back in the game.”

“It’s not a matter of making up.” At least not on her end. She wasn’t sure about Severus, what with the avoiding and the not talking.

“No, it’s a matter of you getting over this double standard of yours.”

Celia didn’t bother to argue, just sank a bit further into her chair.

“I mean, hello? Tried to end the world here, and you manage to deal with that.” Willow shuddered. “Not to mention the flaying.”

“You think I don’t see that?”

“I think it sure doesn’t look like it.” Willow uncrossed her arms and reached across the kitchen table to touch Celia’s hand. “And I think it looks like you still care about him. Or else you wouldn’t still, you know, care.”

“How can I still love him?” she asked in a small voice.

“Probably the same way you did before,” Willow replied. “Just with a little more reality and a little less fairy tale.”

Celia snorted. “It’s never been a fairy tale.”

Willow raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “He swept you off your feet and into a magical castle.”

“Into the dungeons,” Celia retorted. “And there was mutual sweeping. So not the only one getting swept here! But … point taken.”

She still wasn’t sure she could get past this, and even if she did, there was no guarantee Severus would want her back. He certainly hadn’t wasted time getting every trace of her out of his rooms, and she was about to say so when Willow’s eyes widened in horror and she jumped to her feet.

“Well, what the hell are you doing down there? I don’t care what Harry thought. This was so not the plan!”

“Um, Will?”

“No, no, this is bad. Very, very bad.” Willow held her hands to her temples.

“Will!”

She snapped her attention to Celia. “It’s Xander. He and Harry are down in the Chamber and—”

“What? Wait … how did he—?”

“Recriminations and explanations later.” Willow grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards the fireplace. “We have to get down there. With the potion. Now!”