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 9

The sunlight on her face told Celia that, whatever her body might think about it, she had obviously overslept. Prying her eyes open, she confirmed that if she were going to put in an appearance for breakfast, she had about ten minutes to get herself together. She seriously debated skipping. After all, they were done with escorting the students, right? She could just Floo the house-elves for some breakfast and then go to Greenhouse 4 for her first class. Except she’d been skipping a lot of meals lately and, if the “leak” planned for today were to be effective, it would help if she were kind of, well, visible. With a groan she hauled herself out of bed and into the bathroom.

She was slightly late arriving but not the last to do so. Aurora, unsurprisingly, was not much of a morning person and would most likely arrive a good ten minutes later. As she greeted Hagrid and took her seat, Celia noticed that there was a now-familiar phial next to her cup. For some reason that annoyed her.

“Good morning, Severus,” she said flatly. When he nodded, she continued, “Thanks, but I think I’ll be fine with just caffeine today.”

“Take it with you, anyway,” he said. “I do not want to be disturbed when you suddenly need it later.”

“Fine,” she replied and turned her attention to her breakfast. Bastard.

Not soon enough, the bell rang, and she got up to lead her N.E.W.T. students out to the greenhouses, happy to have something nice and normal to do like teach.

~ ~ ~

As much as he preferred his seventh-year N.E.W.T. class to any other, Snape found them annoying this morning. When they arrived, they reeked of Gurdyroot, and that only served to remind him that their prior class had been with … her. Fortunately today’s assignment would require boiling Stinksap, and that would soon overpower the onion-like odor of the plants they had worked with this morning.

He walked amongst them as they prepared their ingredients. Several, he noticed, were powdering their wormwood too finely, but he declined to correct them. They learned better, he felt, when they had to sort out what had gone wrong on their own.

Soon the Potions lab was filled with noxious fumes. A distinct improvement. It was bad enough he would have to see her at lunch; he did not wish to be reminded of her during his class.

The irony that he was thinking about her anyway did not escape him. His resulting scowl caused one student to fumble his sneezewort and add entirely too much, sending a puff of lilac smoke up from his cauldron. The others, apparently, had not noticed the scowl, though a few had glanced over to see what their classmate had done.

This was absurd. He and Reese were managing to interact professionally and put that … indiscretion behind them. There was no call to be thinking of her at all during his classes. He had said all that needed to be said to her. Why did thoughts of her still intrude at such inopportune moments?

As he made another circuit amongst the students, he decided he should do something about that.

~ ~ ~

By lunchtime, she was seriously tempted to take that Invigoration Draught after all. She could take it for at least another three days before having to worry about side effects. Sheer stubbornness, however, forced her to do without and simply order an extra espresso with her lunch.

She darted looks at Severus occasionally. Were there going to be more quasi-thoughtful gestures with a side of sarcasm? Apparently not. He hadn’t even noticed her looking at him. That was weird. And annoying. Then again, what about him wasn’t weird and annoying these past few days? To be fair, what about anything wasn’t weird and annoying these past few days?

She wondered if, once things settled down, they could rebuild the friendship that had been forming between them. She’d never managed to actually “just be friends” with someone she’d slept with before, but she’d really like to this time. Even if he was being a complete bastard. There were lots of things that had happened in her classes, both today and yesterday, that she would have enjoyed telling him. He seemed to find amusement in the fact students weren’t only morons in Potions. Hagrid or Harry might commiserate, but it wasn’t the same somehow. As much as Severus’ rejection stung, she still missed him, even while he was sitting right next to her.

That was really annoying, but her mind seemed relieved to have something to ponder other than the identity of the Idiot-Who-Invited-the-Vampire and continued in a similar vein for most of the meal, punctuated by small talk with Hagrid. So she was taken aback – and seriously wondered if Severus had developed some new form of Legilimency that didn’t require eye contact – when he spoke just before the bell.

“Celia, I would appreciate it if you would see me in my office following the last afternoon class.”

She looked at him, but he was as inscrutable as ever. “I thought you didn’t want to be disturbed,” she said.

“Nevertheless.”

Thanks for clearing that up.

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll see you shortly after the last class.”

Why can’t he make this just the littlest bit easier?

~ ~ ~

On Tuesdays, she had a free period just after lunch. Having caught up her grading while skipping lunch yesterday, she actually had some free time on her hands. There was nothing to be done with her research, and if she started puttering around the greenhouses, she’d just end up doing work that was supposed to be done by the students. She decided to take a walk, indoors for a change.

Eventually, her feet led her to a staircase that she’d never taken before. Surprising, really, that she hadn’t. This one was built into a narrow hallway and didn’t move on its own. Always a plus. There was a soft breeze coming down it, so wherever it spiraled up to was outdoors. She decided to explore.

At the top, she found the most incredible view of the grounds she’d seen yet, and that included while patrolling by broomstick. The telescopes positioned in various places confirmed this was the Astronomy Tower. A look to one side showed Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures class, students the size of ants and Hagrid the size of a mouse. She couldn’t tell what sort of creatures they were working with today though. Turning a bit, she saw the lake, utterly brilliant in the afternoon sun. Something about it gave her a chill, and she turned again to look out over the Quidditch Pitch.

She rested her hand on the stone ledge before her and was surprised to notice it felt as though something was carved on it. She looked down and saw a simple yet elegant carving of what was clearly a phoenix. Right, this is where that all happened.

This was where Professor Severus Snape had killed Headmaster Albus Dumbledore eight years ago. Never mind that the man was already dying, that was a hell of a thing to have to do. The incident was kind of abstract to her, of course, since she’d never met the famous Headmaster. Not even his portrait, really, since it always seemed to be sleeping. Still, she knew something about being faced with that kind of choice.

That thought brought her up short.

How could she have thought Severus’ rejection had anything to do with what she had come to see as standard intimidation by or outright fear of her Slayer powers? If he’d had the strength to do what she couldn’t …

She was 20 and Lydia was 18 when it had happened. Lydia had gone missing somewhere in South America, and Celia had been the one to find her in Peru, already heavily pregnant after only a week. Once she had killed the demon and they had escaped its lair, the problem had been how to travel. Lydia was in bad shape and had needed help to run until they’d found a suitable hideaway. Apparating was out of the question for her, and Celia was afraid to either attempt Side-Along Apparition or leave her and go for help. She knew Apparition was contraindicated during pregnancy, but she couldn’t remember why. If only the fetus was at risk, that would have been fine in this case. But was there danger to the mother, too?

She’d tried to contact Willow, but they were out of range. No cell phone towers out here, no owls or fireplaces. So she’d stayed close to their little cave, going out in search of food and herbs. If she could come up with something to help Lydia abort and then get her a little healthier, maybe then she could Apparate them both away. It was too bad that it would be another year and a half before she learned how to create a Portkey, though there was no guarantee it would have made any difference.

She had found a few herbs that could be used to end the pregnancy, but not the ones she would have preferred. Still, she brewed it as soon as she had gotten some food into the other Slayer. It was a simple enough potion. It should have worked or, at the worst, not worked. And at first it seemed to do the job, because half an hour after taking it, Lydia began cramping and spotting. Then everything had gone south.

First there were the sores on her hands. They both thought that they could have been caused by some sort of insect bites, except that Celia didn’t have any. She’d been closer to the fire and brewing something that smelled bad enough to keep bugs away, though, so they decided that was all it was. Until the sores started to grow. And spread. And soon Lydia was screaming as her body seemed eaten away as if by acid.

Celia had tried every healing charm she knew. There was no time to try to brew an antidote, so she tried simply crushing the herbs she would have used for one and applying their juices to the wounds. Worst of all was the sight of Lydia’s stomach roiling like something out of a horror movie. She kept trying everything she could think of, but nothing helped. For the last terrible minutes that seemed like hours, Lydia had begged her to end the pain.

“I’m dead anyway, please make it stop!” she had screamed before she lost the ability to do even that. Celia had not been able to even consider it, still trying to find a way to save her friend. She tried to Stun her unconscious, but the demons’ immunity to that spell seemed to have transferred to Lydia. When it was over, she finally used the Killing Curse on the disgusting things still trying to escape her friend’s body. She wished she’d done it sooner.

Giles, Willow, and the others had all reassured her over and over again that she had done everything she could have. But she knew she hadn’t. She could have spared her friend those last horrific minutes at least. Which was worse? To kill a friend, or to stand by and watch her die in agony?

Tears ran freely down her face unacknowledged. After yesterday’s staff meeting, she should have known this memory was due to pop up. There had been enough other things to keep her from thinking about it, but now, with nothing else to occupy her mind, there was no escaping it. She knew better than to try.

After several minutes her tears stopped. She wiped her eyes and cast a quick Cleansing Charm on her face. She looked again at the small carving that had triggered the memory. No, he had no business being intimidated by her, but that might not be the only reason he would choose not to become any more involved with a Slayer. Maybe he’d just had enough of death, tragedy, and fighting for one lifetime.

He’d earned that.

Oh, she had too. So had every other Slayer and lots of other people. But he had the option to live a normal life now, and he’d been doing that until she came along. Could she really blame him for wanting that?

No. But he doesn’t have to be such an ass about it.

A glance at her watch told her she had better start heading to Greenhouse 2 for her next class. As she descended the stairs, she found she was grateful for the upcoming double period of routine activity.

~ ~ ~

When her class ended, she felt much more like her normal self. As she locked up and headed into the castle, she found herself far calmer at the thought of a private conversation with Severus than she would have expected. Why not, though? He’s been either professional or his old snide self for the past two days. This is probably about the ‘leak’ and how tonight’s patrol should be planned. He’s obviously more the strategist than Minerva. I need to get my head out of the clouds and move on. He has.

She was therefore surprised to find, when he answered her knock with a curt, “Enter,” that there was a small table she didn’t remember from her last visit, and it was set for a light tea. He rose as she entered, took her cloak to hang on a nearby coat rack, and gestured to her to take one of the chairs opposite his desk. She noticed the chairs were angled about the small table rather than facing straight on to the desk as they normally did. They also looked more comfortable than she remembered, but then, the last time she’d sat in one, she’d been getting yelled at by Minerva. Well, they both had. She took a seat.

He stepped around the desk, took the other chair, and proceeded to pour.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup.

“Sandwich?” he offered.

“Not just yet, thanks,” she replied. She wanted to see where this was going first. If she needed to yell at him, she didn’t want to have to do it around a mouthful of bread.

Silence fell as both took tentative sips of the steaming tea. Finally, curiosity got the better of her, and she set her cup down and fixed her eyes on him intently.

“What was it that you wanted to see me about?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away but set his cup down as well and looked at her for a long moment.

“You gave me much to think about the other day,” he said at last.

She thought her eyebrows might have gotten lost in her hairline. “I was under the impression that that conversation was closed,” she said, sitting back into the chair and crossing her arms over her chest protectively, “and that you thought very little of anything I had contributed to it.”

“That is not entirely accurate,” he replied, picking up his teacup for another sip. She had the distinct feeling he was hiding behind it. “Nor were some of the things I said.”

Oh really?

“Such as …” She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to finish that or not. Except if he didn’t, she was going to have to scream. That was sounding like a good idea anyway.

“Your … original assessment of the magic that passed between us was most likely accurate.”

She blinked several times, unfolded her arms, and rested one on an armrest, propping her chin in her hand. She hoped that looked a lot more casual than she felt.

“So why did you lead me to believe it was normal?”

He appeared to be staring at the leaves at the bottom of his cup. “I suppose I did not wish to accept the implications.”

She couldn’t think of any response that she could actually voice, and so she just looked at him in confusion.

“I suppose,” he repeated, “I did not wish to accept the implications of having formed some sort of magical bond with a witch young enough to be my daughter.”

Her brain stuttered processing that. There was something distinctly odd about his tone.

“Well, I’m not,” she finally managed to say.

He fixed his dark eyes on her. “How do you know that? You have no idea who your biological parents are.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “If you were actually concerned that was a possibility, there are ways to test that. Magically or scientifically. But it’s not possible.”

He continued to stare at her. Something inside her fluttered as she took in the idea that this might explain some of his bizarre behavior. It probably wasn’t, in general, a good idea for women who didn’t know who their fathers were to sleep with men old enough to fit the bill. She hadn’t thought about it because it wasn’t an issue.

“Look, it is entirely possible, since obviously you were no more virginal than me, that you fathered a child you weren’t told about some quarter century ago. It’s even possible that the mother decided things were getting kind of too wild over here and took off for the States. But even if we take this coincidence all the way and have her giving the kid up to live as a Muggle in, of all places, Cleveland, Ohio, that child still wouldn’t be me,” she said. “Because while I know next to nothing about my birth parents, one thing I do know is that as of at least three years ago, they’re both dead.”

“How do you know that?” he repeated. Was that a flicker of relief in his eyes?

“I went to a Seer, looking for information on them,” she replied. “I know he saw more than he told me, but he said I should stop looking because I couldn’t contact them since they’re dead. He wouldn’t say when, or how, or anything else about them, but he was very clear on that point.”

“And you trust this Seer?”

“He’s good. Notoriously good. Kind of eccentric. Definitely uses a completely unique method of reading people, but accurate. Even his predictions. They’re mutable, but right on target. Anything to do with the present or past? He’s just not wrong.”

After a long pause, Severus spoke again, “You are still young enough to have been my student.”

“I wasn’t, though,” she said. “I mean, if I had been, that would be kind of weird, but I wasn’t.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and she briefly wondered why.

“Then why,” he snarled suddenly, “were you so damned anxious to hide the fact that you’d been fucking some ugly, scarred old man.”

“I told you! It was none of Giles’ business, and if you hadn’t noticed, I spent far more time defending you than anything else!” she snapped. She barely noticed that he winced at that. “It was too soon, too new, too fragile. And you saw enough of what I felt to know that I don’t think about you like that at all!” At his answering scowl, she continued. “You’re not ugly to me, Severus. Never have been. Yes, you’re scarred. How could you not be? So what? If not for the way we heal, I’d look like a bloody road map myself. And old? Give me a break! Forty-five isn’t even middle-aged for a wizard. Meanwhile, for a Slayer, twenty-four is practically ancient, so if we’re going to play the age game, maybe the problem is that I’m too old for you!”

As silence fell once again, her thoughts were forcibly dragged back to her visit to the Astronomy Tower, and she closed her eyes in a vain attempt to block the obvious conclusion. She swallowed hard to keep the tears from returning.

Not now. He’d think it was about him, and even if it might be just a little bit about him, he doesn’t need to be thinking that.

“That would seem to be a radical reinterpretation of the facts,” he said dryly.

She let out a short bark of utterly humorless laughter. “Sybill may be an old fraud, but she had this much right: there’s no such thing as a retired Slayer … at least not so far. We’ve got two that are pushing thirty, which is an all-time record, and one of them has died not once but twice. From your point of view, I’d call that an excellent reason not to get any closer to me.” She paused for breath and steeled herself to continue. In for a penny … “Though from my entirely selfish point of view, that’s an excellent reason not to question little details like age when I find something or someone who makes me happy.”

His next question startled her. “Why did you ask a Seer about your parents?”

“I guess I just wanted to know,” she said, shaking off the feeling of mental whiplash, “who I am, where I come from. He was right, though. Biology aside, for all practical purposes I come from Nathan and Melissa Reese.”

“How did your foster-parents die?” He hid behind his teacup again.

“A car accident. Why does it matter?” Where’s he going with this? Really don’t need to go visiting more sad memories today.

He set down his teacup and looked at her intently. “Slayers do not have exclusive rights to young, violent deaths then.”

“Of course not. Your point?”

“Perhaps you are right, and your age is not important.”

She sighed. This conversation had gone in one too many circles, and she thought she must have missed one or two loops. At least she didn’t feel like she was going to tear up again. For now.

“Severus, you gave me a lot to think about, too. I took a little walk this afternoon to clear my head.”

“And?”

“Among other things, I realized I’ve missed you these past couple of days.”

He looked startled. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“No, I mean, I’ve missed this.” She waved at the cooling tea. “I hadn’t realized before how many times during a day I file something aside to tell you later, how much I’ve come to look forward to our teas and even just the short conversations we have in the Hall.”

“I have missed that, too,” he said softly. “Although, technically, we still have not missed any of our weekly teas.”

“No, I guess not.” She picked up her cup, cast a warming charm on it, and took a sip. “I’d like it if we could have that again.”

She looked back to him and found that he was watching her intently again. She lowered her eyes and forced herself to say, “But if you’d rather not, I can understand that.”

“What if I want more?” he asked.

Her heart skipped several beats … then made them up all at once. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he said simply, firmly.

“Why?” she asked. “Considering everything we’ve just been talking about, why?”

“Because you are right. There are some things one should simply accept and not question too closely.”

She reminded herself to breathe. She wanted to leap out of her chair, kiss him senseless, and drag him off to his rooms, wherever they were. She wanted to run screaming before he did another about-face and completely ripped her heart out of her chest this time. Was there some kind of middle ground, maybe?

“I’d rather not have another implosion,” she said after a long pause. “We should probably take things more slowly.”

He nodded, then said, “Even so, I cannot promise a lack of further … implosions. No one can. Particularly me.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed.

Just because there’s no guarantee is no reason not to try, right?

“What would ‘taking things more slowly’ mean to you?” he asked softly.

She thought about that a moment. How do we have a normal relationship while both of us work at a magical boarding school and, oh, by the way, deal with some idiot inviting vampires onto the campus and prepare to train up a new Slayer? I don’t think there is a ‘normal’ for this.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Can we go back to how things were just, I don’t know, more personal? Maybe keep up our teas, maybe go back to having them twice a week, and use at least some of the time to just get to know each other? That might be a good start.”

He nodded slowly.

“Is it really that important to you for this to be public knowledge?” she asked. “I mean, this early, while we’re still figuring things out?”

“No,” he said. “But I don’t want it to be a secret, either. If other staff members find out, then so be it.”

“That’s reasonable,” she agreed, a smile pulling at her lips. All of a sudden she felt giddy. “I feel like we’re negotiating a peace treaty, not just figuring out how to … date, if that’s even the right word.”

She was rewarded with that little half-smile of his. Maybe she’d get a chance to see that more often after all.

“I suppose, in a way, we are,” he replied.

“This isn’t what I expected when you asked me to come here,” she admitted.

“For what it’s worth, this is not what I had planned either.” He picked up the plate of sandwiches and offered them to her again. She selected one with murmured thanks and took a bite as he continued, “What did you expect?”

She used the time she spent chewing and swallowing to consider her answer. “I’d about convinced myself that this was going to be a strategic discussion of today’s ‘leak’ and how to conduct tonight’s patrol,” she said, adding, “Not completely though. Hence the walk earlier.”

“It’s not a particularly good day for a walk,” he observed.

“No, so I stayed inside mostly.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask any more. She’d answer if he did, but she didn’t think a discussion of where she had ended up – much less her musings when she got there – would be all that helpful right now. To her relief, he didn’t.

“I confess, I do not know yet whether the information has been successfully planted.”

“Who’s supposed to do it?”

“Sybill,” he replied. At her widened eyes, he continued, “She has the advantage of two opposing student opinions. Her favorites believe her every word. The rest consider her flighty and just foolish enough to let something like that slip.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” She thought for a moment. “Last night’s patrol approach seemed to work well. Were the hourly check-ins your idea or Minerva’s?”

“Mine,” he admitted.

“A very strategically sound approach,” she said, her lips twitching. Possibly sweet, too. I’m thinking I shouldn’t say that part.

“Do you plan to cover the same time period?”

“Probably, at least at first. I should start mixing it up, though, if nothing happens for a couple of days. I’m still hoping for it to be simple.”

“Do you really think it is?”

“No,” she sighed. “Three nights in a row with this dream – it’s warning me about something. I just wish it would be clearer. Plus the other dream is showing up with it, so I think they’re connected.”

On the mantle behind her, a small clock chimed.

“I imagine we both have things to accomplish before dinner,” Severus said.

“True.” She rose from her seat, setting down her teacup and napkin. When she looked up, he was already standing. “Thank you,” she said. “This has been … much nicer than I expected.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied as he brought her cloak from the rack. She allowed him to drape it across her shoulders and smiled as he fastened the clasp and asked, “Does ‘taking things slowly’ allow for a kiss when we part?”

“I’m thinking it’s a requirement,” she answered, lifting her face to his.

He brushed his lips across hers gently, briefly. She reminded herself to breathe again as she felt a sensation of rightness wash over her as if an orchestra that had been tuning had suddenly converged upon a perfect note.

“Right,” she said after a moment. “See you at dinner then.”

He traced her jaw line with a finger, nodded, and opened the door.

~ ~ ~

Once she had left, Severus summoned a house-elf to clear away the remains of their barely-touched tea tray, Vanished the small table he had conjured, and settled in to mark some essays before dinner. He found himself momentarily distracted, however, by thoughts of his earlier conversation with Celia. If nothing else, she certainly had not been intimidated by that humiliating outburst of temper. Then again, he supposed that was not surprising.

There was something still bothering him, though he could not determine what. Once the idea had occurred to him at lunch that she was not only young enough to be his daughter but also did not know who her parents were, he thought that was it. He had planned to cast a Paternity Charm on her during the meeting, which was to have been a discussion of security and her patrolling responsibilities as she had guessed. Had the result been negative, she would never have known. Had it been positive … well, fortunately it had not been necessary. He’d had no intention of actually speaking of it.

Now, if he could only determine what it was that still troubled him about her, perhaps he could actually enjoy the prospect of getting to know her better. Their agreement had eased the feeling of wrongness that had been bothering him for the past couple of days, though it seemed strange to take such a planned approach to it. Artificial. However, it was not an approach he had ever tried before. Perhaps trying something so different could lead to a better outcome? Considering some of the things he had said to her, he was surprised she had agreed to give this another try, even on such careful terms.

When she’d said she had missed him, he’d been shocked. When she had elaborated and it seemed she wished only to rekindle their friendship, nothing more, it had almost physically hurt. It had frankly surprised him to find himself admitting aloud that he wanted more. That was a risk he had not taken in … a very long time.

He was not even sure what outcome he wanted in the long term. Right now all he knew was that the discordant feeling he’d had for the past two days had resolved. The … annoyance he felt at having had to admit he had not actually wished to end their relationship was a price worth paying for the calm that had settled over him, he rather thought.

Calm? I could almost call it happiness.

He scoffed softly as he absently twirled his quill. He still wished he could determine the source of the rather ominous sense that this would go very badly wrong. Other than his rather dismal history with women. Or perhaps that was all it was?

Shaking off this irrelevant line of thought, he returned his attention to the essay before him, slashing through several lines of idiocy with red ink and writing a comment that was somewhat less scathing than he had intended. Well, why not? Nothing else about this day appeared to be going according to plan, and so far that appeared to be a good thing. A very good thing.

~ ~ ~

Looking across the lake, Celia wondered again what that odd energy here had been. She would have to mention it to Minerva. The boundary was holding. That was the important thing.

Turning her back on it, she headed back toward the castle, another night’s patrol completed. Still no sign of any further disturbances. That was all to the good, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something ominous about the quiet. She’d have to patrol Hogsmeade some night soon just to be sure no problems were cropping up there.

When she reached her cottage, she paused to summon her happiest memory and thought, Tell Severus all clear and I’m going to sleep. Expecto Patronum! The silvery snake issued from her wand and shot off toward the castle wall. She watched with amusement as it flowed straight through the stone. Still smiling, she entered her cottage, hung up her cloak, and got ready for bed.

~ ~ ~

Wednesday found her meeting with Minerva to discuss the strangely dark energy she had felt near the lake.

“It didn’t feel like part of the lake,” she explained. “I doubt it has anything to do with the merpeople or even the grindylows or the Giant Squid.” She spared a moment to wonder what a squid was doing in fresh water in the first place, then continued. “It really felt like it came from under the lake somehow. Not just under the water, but under the bottom of it. Do you know of anything under there?”

The Headmistress looked disquieted by this information. “You say it did not interfere with the spell?”

“No,” Celia confirmed. “I’ve rechecked the sentry points every night, and they are all working properly. There’s just a different, rather Dark flavor to the energy there. Why? What is it?”

“According to Harry, Salazar Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets extends beneath the lake.”

Celia’s eyes widened. “Well, that answers two questions then.”

“Two?”

“That must be the source of the Darker energy, and apparently it had no problem interacting with a spell involving the blood of a half-blood witch. In fact, tapping into energy connected to something of one of Hogwarts’ Founders may have increased the effectiveness of the protections.”

“That is true.” Minerva looked less relieved than Celia would have liked but didn’t express any further concerns. Celia decided she would have to see if there was anything in the library with more to say about this Chamber of Secrets.

~ ~ ~

“Severus, what’s the Chamber of Secrets?” she asked during their next tea on Friday afternoon.

He shifted uncomfortably on her sofa and wondered why she was asking this.

“I thought we were supposed to be discussing more personal matters,” he said. As artificial as it felt, he vastly preferred learning more about the person she was when she was neither teaching nor researching to discussing anything to do with the Dark Lord.

“We are,” she replied. “We have.” She began to tick things off on her fingers. “In the past hour we’ve discussed both of our favorite authors, whether or not black qualifies as a favorite color, what it was like to go to a Muggle university as a Slayer, and why, when you returned to Hogwarts, you chose to teach Potions instead of Defense. So it seems like we’ve been working our way back around to business anyway. It’s supposed to be Slytherin’s chamber, you’re Head of Slytherin House, so you must know about it, right?”

“What do you know about it so far?” he asked resignedly. “And why are you interested in it?”

“I’m interested because it seems like it’s the source of some distinctly Dark energies I picked up when I was drawing power into the protection spell,” she explained. “As to what I know so far … very little. It was thought to be a legend for centuries and then, for no apparent reason, it was opened some fifty years ago and again a dozen years ago. The first time, a student died. The second time had students Petrified, one kidnapped, and then somehow it was all resolved, apparently involving Harry, but not a single book in the library here has any details, and Minerva looked way uncomfortable when I asked about anything under the lake that might give off that sort of Dark energy.”

He groaned internally. She was right, of course. As Head of Slytherin, he really ought to know more about it. However, depending on just what she needed to know, she should probably be speaking with Potter. Hoping to avoid making that referral, he gave as complete an account as he could of that extremely difficult year from the first Petrification to the discovery and destruction of the Dark Lord’s diary-Horcrux. When he finished, he waited somewhat anxiously for whatever questions she might have.

“Has anyone been back down there since?”

“I do not believe so. Potter would be the only one able to open the chamber, after all, and I doubt he has.” Now that he thought on it, it did seem odd that Potter had not been asked to reopen the Chamber so that it could be examined further. Who knew what was still down there?

“So, we have no idea whether there are any other basilisks or other creatures down there?” she asked, echoing his thoughts.

“You’re not thinking of going down there to look for any, are you?” However good an idea it might have been to examine it before, surely it was best to leave it alone now.

“Not without a very good reason,” she said, sounding like she was trying to reassure him. “It’s just … there’s got to still be something down there generating that energy.”

“Could it not simply be the spells cast to create and protect the Chamber itself?”

“Maybe, though it felt more organic than that.” She appeared to become lost in thought, sinking back into her end of the sofa and drumming on the armrest with her fingers.

“Is there anything more?” he asked. “Or can we move on to discussing your rather eclectic taste in music? What was that you had playing when I arrived?”

He was relieved when she smiled at this and accepted the diversion. The story of the Chamber tread awfully close to matters he knew she must ask about eventually but that he truly did not want to remember much less share, none of which could possibly have anything to do with that vampire or with whomever had brought it onto the grounds.

~ ~ ~

The following Tuesday, she decided to find out what had made him so uncomfortable telling that tale. They were back in the dungeons this time, though in the sitting room of his quarters rather than his office. She noted with interest that the walls were practically lined with bookshelves, some of which appeared to be double-stacked. As she carefully phrased her question, she wondered if being on his own territory would relieve any of his discomfort.

“That was when I knew for certain,” he answered, “that the Dark Lord would find a way to return. He had already tried the year before.”

She watched him carefully. He was too practiced at concealing his emotions to reveal much, but his discomfort was clearly every bit as intense as during their last conversation.

“Is it just that the memories are bad or is there something else?” she pressed.

“I would prefer not to discuss it,” he replied.

“Severus,” she said, “I’m not going to ask you to talk about anything you don’t want to.” At his guarded expression, she took his hand and continued, “I don’t need to know all your deepest, darkest secrets, unless you need to tell them.”

His hand twitched in hers, and she loosened her grip in case he chose to pull away. He didn’t. He didn’t answer, either.

She decided to take a guess at what was bothering him. “I don’t need to know the things you did when you were a Death Eater. I know the only thing that matters: you left.”

“How can that be enough?” he asked, the words sounding as though they were ripped from his throat involuntarily.

Noting the way his shoulders stiffened and his expression became defensive, she decided she’d hit it. “Because I know how the Dark Arts can draw you in, I know what it is like to revel in that kind of power,” she said, “and I know what it takes to pull away. There’s always been a core of decency in you, a strong one, or you couldn’t have done it.”

“Your teacher’s memories?”

“Yes.” She squirmed a little. “Her trip down that road may have been shorter, but I can almost guarantee you never went as far as she did.”

“You give me too much credit,” he said hoarsely.

Ha! Wanna bet?

“Ever try to destroy all life on Earth?”

He blinked. “No.”

“All right, then.” She picked up his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, then let her fingers trace over his forearm to where she knew the faded remnants of the Dark Mark lay beneath his sleeve. “This is just another battle scar,” she said softly, then drew his face to hers for a kiss that became longer and deeper than she had intended. Pulling back, she took a moment to catch her breath, then said, “So then, how about instead you tell me about the town where you grew up?”

“It wasn’t a particularly pleasant place,” he said after a brief pause.

“There must have been something you liked about it,” she replied. “But if there wasn’t, then it’s your turn to pick a topic.”

It took a little while, but his reluctance faded as he settled in to tell her about how his mother had taught him to play Gobstones and then adapted the game so that he could play with his Muggle friends using regular marbles. She drank in the boyish joy that periodically crossed his face during this tale, thinking he should do this much more often.

~ ~ ~

Friday’s tea in her cottage began with a discussion of how soon the hybridized herbs would be ready for testing, moved on to a discussion of the comparative merits of wizarding and Muggle music, and then became derailed by a dance step demonstration that evolved into an embrace.

When they parted for breath, Severus asked, “Celia, have we been taking things slowly long enough?”

She swallowed, gratifyingly flustered, and said, “I think so.”

He tried to force himself to think logically. It would be dinnertime soon, and he did not want them to be rushed. Then she was going to patrol immediately after, and she’d mentioned a plan to cover Hogsmeade again tonight. But tomorrow was Saturday, and they could sleep in. There was not even Quidditch to worry about, and so long as the Slytherins did not act up and require his attention, they should be relatively undisturbed.

“Will you come to my quarters after your patrol?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she whispered, gazing at him with an expression that nearly destroyed his resolve to wait until later.

He leaned his forehead against hers. “Let me know when you are back on the grounds, even if it is not time for another check-in, and I will be waiting.”

She smiled and nodded, then took a step back, saying, “I should get ready for dinner.”

Taking his cue, he nodded firmly and left.

~ ~ ~

There had been, as usual, little point to patrolling Hogsmeade. Tonight hadn’t even provided any rowdy drunks for her to deal with.

So whatever it is, it’s not there. That’s of the good. I just wish I knew what it is, where it is, or anything at all for sure.

As she approached the gates, she dropped the glamour she had been wearing and pulled out her wand to tap out the sequence that would let any Hogwarts teacher enter. She stepped through and re-warded the gates, then, with a smile, sent her Patronus to let Severus know she would be arriving soon.

Walking toward the castle, she was glad that the ground had frozen back up tonight. The thaw over the past couple of days basically traded all the snow for mud. She preferred patrolling on foot, even though a broom offered a wider view, so a firm surface was a definite plus.

Nearly halfway to the main doors, she saw movement to her left and turned quickly. A dark-robed figure was clearly silhouetted in the light of the full moon, and for a moment she thought Severus had come outside to meet her. Then the figure turned to face her, and her jaw dropped at the sight of the skull-like mask. She fired off a Stunning Spell, but just as she saw it hit, she felt another spell hit her from behind. Her world exploded as pain seared along every nerve like liquid fire, and she fell to the frozen ground.

~ ~ ~

After dinner, he’d gone back to his quarters and contemplated how they should be arranged for this evening. He’d set a bottle of elf-made wine to chill, built up the fire to warm the rooms and, after much debate, turned down the covers on his bed. Then he’d forced himself to leave and conduct his own patrol before he could become carried away.

He was now arriving at the kitchens under pretext of seeking out students after a late-night snack. In truth, he was looking for the Malfoys’ old house-elf, Dobby, to ask for a tray of late-night snacks to be sent to his quarters. While all of the elves necessarily answered to all of the staff, Dobby was the one who seemed to mind him the least. He would like to think it was because he had treated the elf decently when he was the Malfoys’ servant; however he knew it had far more to do with the number of times he had saved Harry bloody Potter.

“Professor Snape,” said an elf named Loozy, “no students is being coming tonight.”

“Thank you,” he replied, “but I am actually looking for Dobby.”

“Dobby is here!” said an eager voice, preceding its owner around a corner. “What is Professor Snape be wanting? No students is being here tonight, sir.”

He placed his request, ignored the puzzled look it generated, and left. He had not gone more than halfway down the hall, when he saw the familiar silver snake approaching him. He knelt to touch it with his left hand. I’m back, and I’ll be there soon, it relayed, then began to dissipate.

Smiling, he began to stand, when suddenly the silvery mist sent a shock of pain into his hand that shot up his arm and knifed through his shoulder. His blood ran cold, and he quickly stood, drew his wand, and ran.

~ ~ ~

Pain. Pain was everywhere. She breathed it. It flowed through her veins. The only thing that existed besides the pain was the annoying voice that kept telling her to open her eyes. Part of her wanted to laugh at the voice. Didn’t it know she would never do what it said? Part of her was terrified of what it asked. Opening her eyes would be bad. People could steal things if you opened your eyes. But all there was to steal was pain. Why would they want that?

But she wouldn’t let them in. She screwed her eyes more tightly shut as more waves of pain coursed through her. She felt hands on her face. Trying to open her eyes, she realized. Stupid. If they wanted pain, she’d give it to them.

~ ~ ~

Once outside, he ran for the gates, hoping this was the path she would have taken. Before long, he had only to follow her screams. Soon the scene came into view, and he saw three figures wearing sickeningly familiar robes and masks. Two had their wands trained on her. A third was bent over her. In the split second he prepared to cast a volley of spells at them, the bent-over figure flew back from her.

Still running, he disarmed the other two and bound the first. The two he’d disarmed recovered quickly and, before he could hit them again, winked out of sight. He fired several more spells toward where they had been, sweeping out in increasingly wide arcs, and connected with nothing.

Now he was practically on top of where she lay. He cast a Shield Charm around them both and tried to reach for her, only to find that she was under a Shield Charm herself. That must have been what threw the remaining assailant away from her. She was twitching and shaking in the all-too-familiar aftermath of the Cruciatus.

“Celia,” he barked, “let me in. We have to get away from here, and I can’t reach you.”

No response. Could she even hear him?

“Celia,” he repeated more loudly. “They’re gone, for now, but we have to leave. Drop the damned shield!”

A brief hesitation and the shield winked out. He wasn’t sure if she had heard him or had simply been unable to continue holding the spell. Gathering her into his arms, he scanned the area again. The only remaining assailant appeared to be unconscious as well as bound. He would freeze if he was out here for very long. Not particularly caring, Severus started toward the hospital wing, moving as quickly as he could while holding the barely conscious Slayer.

~ ~ ~

The pain stopped. How? She hadn’t let them in to steal it. The pain she threw at them was different. Wasn’t it? Slowly, she realized there were other things they would have wanted to steal, though she didn’t know what they were. They were all locked away nicely, so it didn’t really matter, did it? The only thing that mattered was that nobody could get in to steal them. Ever. That she knew beyond any doubt.

There was a new voice now. She didn’t know what it wanted, but it wasn’t annoying like the other one. This voice sounded different. Safe. It wanted something, but she didn’t know what. She was so tired. Now the pain was gone, maybe she could stop pushing. Maybe that was what the Safe Voice wanted. She let go.

The Voice came with Robes that smelled sour and spicy. She felt herself gathered up into the Robes. The Robes were Safe just as the Voice was Safe, and they were taking her somewhere that must also be Safe. It took her a long minute to manage it, but she convinced the fingers of her free hand to move just enough to tangle tightly in the spicy-sour Robes. Her other hand was gripping something hard and thin and important, but she didn’t know what it was or why she shouldn’t let it go. The Robes shifted their grip on her, and she felt warmer air pass over her. They were in the Safe place then. She relaxed a little.

~ ~ ~

“Poppy!” he bellowed once they were inside, thanking Merlin the hospital wing had a direct entrance from the grounds.

“What is it?” the matron asked as she rushed to meet them, drawing her dressing gown on as she went.

“Cruciatus,” he gasped. “Death Eaters. I know what I saw!” This in response to Poppy’s incredulous look.

“Set her down over there,” she directed, gesturing toward one of the beds. “I’ll Floo Minerva and be back to examine her.”

He brought Celia over to the bed Poppy had indicated and set her down gently. When he tried to rise, he realized she had his robes in a death grip. He tried to pry her fingers loose but could not.

“Celia, you have to let go,” he said. “You’re in hospital now. You’re safe. And I have to stand back up.” In fact, if he didn’t change his position soon, Poppy would have another patient. As she still did not let go, he went to one knee on the stone floor. He stroked her hand and continued to speak. “It’s all right – you can let go now,” he repeated over and over as he wondered what was taking Poppy so long.

~ ~ ~

She was somewhere soft now. The Robes and the Voice were still there, but someone was trying to make her let go of the Robes. She didn’t want the Robes to go away, so she held on. The Voice was saying things, but she didn’t know what those things were. She didn’t want the Voice to leave either. It was very soothing to hear it, though, and soon her grip slackened. It worried her when the Robes slipped from her grasp, but they didn’t leave, and the Voice continued to speak.

~ ~ ~

“Severus, what happened?” demanded Minerva, brushing soot from her dressing gown.

“She was on her way back from patrolling Hogsmeade, had just sent a Patronus reporting an all-clear,” he said as he finally worked his robes free of her grip. “Just as it finished delivering the message, it sent a bolt of pain into me, and I knew she was hurt.”

“Poppy said something about Death Eaters?”

“There were three,” he said as he straightened. “I know we got them all, but there were three people in Death Eater robes and masks. Two had their wands on her, at least one of them casting the Cruciatus, possibly both. The third had his hands on her. I don’t know what he did, but she managed a Shield Charm to push him away before I had time to respond.”

“Where are they now?”

“Two of them disappeared. They cannot have Disapparated, and they were not simply invisible. I cannot explain it.”

“And the third?”

“Still out there in a full Body-Bind. Someone should probably get him before he freezes, if we are to have any answers.”

Minerva looked surprised, probably wondering why he had not already done so. “Yes. Would you …”

“I am not leaving her.” He was startled by his own resolve on that point. It was not as though there was anything he could do for her that Poppy could not. Except … it was clear that she was suffering from more than post-Cruciatus symptoms. The way she was burying her face in the pillow, the way her eyes were screwed so tightly shut. Something else had been done to her, and he was certain without knowing why that he absolutely needed to remain.

“I see,” Minerva said after an uncomfortable silence. “Very well then.”

He did not turn to see her expression nor what she would do next. His attention was entirely on the diagnostic spells Poppy had been casting since she had returned with Minerva.

~ ~ ~

There were other voices now. As long as the Safe Voice was there, she didn’t mind the others. They were nothing like the annoying voice. Funny how she’d been able to understand the annoying voice, but not the Safe Voice or these new voices.

Different fingers touched her face and she flinched, grinding her eyelids tighter than ever. She couldn’t let them in, no matter what. This new voice was not Safe, then, although the Safe Voice was still speaking. Sharply. The hands that went with the Safe Voice were still holding the hand they had removed from the Robes, and the new hands left her face.

Now the Robes were helping her sit up. She really wanted to sleep, not to sit, but she didn’t fight it. The new voice was speaking again, and she felt something being pressed against her mouth. She pressed her lips tightly together and tried to move away, but the Robes were in her way. She buried her face in the Robes so the new voice could not get near.

The Voice spoke, and a large hand stroked her hair. The new voice seemed to have gone, and slowly she relaxed. The large hand moved and lifted her face away from the Robes while the Voice continued to speak. Another of the hands attached to the Robes brought the thing to her mouth again. The Voice was speaking very evenly and making the same sounds over and over. The Voice wanted to put the thing in her mouth. The Voice was Safe. So it must be okay to put the thing in her mouth, right?

She parted her lips and felt something press between them. There was liquid, and it tasted bad, but the Voice was still repeating the same sounds. She swallowed the liquid, and the object went away.

The softness under her shifted, and she felt the Robes pull her to lie back against them. A heavy, comforting weight rested on her head, and the large hand was stroking her hair again. She felt the shaking in her body lessen and began to fall asleep. A drop of water landed on her cheek, and this bothered her. It shouldn’t rain here. She whimpered and burrowed further into the Robes until unconsciousness claimed her.