Chapter 2: Chapter 2: "Come as you are."
Circe realised why she'd not seen him. His black hair and clothes blended seamlessly into the dark of the chair that he sat in. Dark as a shadow. Her eyes widened as his angry look softened a touch.
"Don't touch the brass animals." He hissed at her through clenched teeth. "They will bite."
Circe cleared her throat "Um… I don't think we know each other."
Circe thought about extending a hand out to the man, but feared he might bite as well... He looked like he had a venomous quality to him, shrouded in black as he was with harsh chiseled cheekbones and pale-white skin. He looked like an adder, ready to strike, but incredibly striking in his own way.
"No?" He asked in a long drawl, raising an inky eyebrow at her.
"Circe. Smith. I'm teaching Ancient Studies this year."
"Are you.." he responded flatly, rising from his chair. He was tall, over six foot at least and he looked down his arrow sharp nose at her in a way that made her breath catch in her throat.
"Professor Severus Snape. Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House." He did not extend a hand to her.
Gosh, that voice… Circe thought to herself.
It was rich and velvety. Reminding her rather a lot of some of the actors and performers she'd run into during the Fringe months in Edinburgh. It was a shock to her to have such a disparity between the harsh, vicious feel of his outer countenance and the soft, dulcet tones in his voice. Maybe he was more predator-like than she originally thought: sometimes the most deadly of hunters lure their prey into submission with a welcoming delusion.
She paused for a second longer than she intended to, lost in her own musings. The air felt heavy around them.
"Ohh.." Circe replied, shaken out of her trance. "Professor Slughorn was the Potions Master when I was here..."
"Fascinating." He replied icily.
"He ...um… retired did he?" She asked, struggling for conversation.
"Obviously."
Circe nodded her head and looked around the room awkwardly. His gaze was intense and unrelenting and she felt like she were being regarded like an owl regards a mouse.
Severus rolled his eyes and realised he'd have to make some small talk now he'd been discovered. He had tried rather hard to read his paper alone and unbothered. Now he had to attempt to sound interested in the newcomer.
"Will you be at the Feast later?" He asked.
"Uhh, yes. All teachers are aren't they?" She asked.
"Indeed, but…"
"But what?"
"The Feast, in case you've forgotten, is a formal affair." He cast a judging eye down her body and back up to her face.
She met his eyes, emerald meeting dark obsidian black. So rich and deep that his look alone unsettled her beyond logical explanation. She was not bad-looking, he conceded to himself. Her hair was streaked with tones of gold and copper and shone like a brass penny, particularly flattering when styled in her curls . But right then, her hair looked wild and in dire need of a comb from her afternoon stroll up to the castle. She almost matched him in height and was one of the tallest women he'd ever met. Perhaps that's why she was wearing a pair of filthy Doc Martens and not proper shoes; heels would make her amazonian… Maybe dresed up nicely, she'd be half way tolerable.
"Oh, uh well I'm not entirely sure where my suitcases have been left yet. I figured this would be okay…"
"Hmm" he scoffed, "I hardly think Harris tweed is an appropriate thing to be wearing at the Great Feast."
She flinched, feeling rather deservedly insulted.
"I'm sorry?" She asked incredulously.
"Not a good first impression to be making to the students, turning up in an old coat and muddy boots. Doesn't exactly command respect, does it."
She was speechless at his rudeness. Too angry to even muster a reply. Severus pushed past her and left her gawking.
"Have you been told where you will be lodging?"
She shook herself out of her silent trance, "Um close to Mcgonagall…" she offered weakly.
Snape muttered something to himself and nodded. "I shall show you there if you wish? It's not far from here."
She wordlessly followed Snape, who turned on his heels without waiting to hear her reply, and walked out of the Staff Room. Snape had been correct, their destination was only three minutes away, but Circe seethed with anger every step there. He came to stop outside of a set of twin oak doors with matching gold fittings. The right door was closed and locked shut, the left was mercifully open. Circe peered inside and saw a neat little stack of her boxes and suitcases as well as her assorted smaller items laid on her bed and Ziggy's cage by the open window.
"Thank you, Professor." She said to Snape coldly, trying to avoid his eyes as she moved to enter the room.
"Not at all." He strode away from her, breezing past her in a bat-like swoop.
Frustration bubbled up inside her as she struggled to control her urge to scream at him.
"Oh, Professor…" she called, having mustered a witty retort. But he was gone.
Angry at her slowness, she stormed inside and kicked at a pile of boxes, sending some of her clothes spilling out onto the floor. She shrugged off her offending coat and threw it in a crumple onto the bed. Hot tears of frustration sprang up in her eyes and she paced up and down the room, her hands on her hips repeating Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare cry in her head. Her mind reeled at all of the nasty and vicious things she wanted to call that man. She hated how she'd frozen up when he'd insulted her. Prey to his predator. For that, she was more angry at herself than him…
She resisted the urge to dramatically throw herself down on the bed like a Disney princess and cry. Instead she balled up her sadness until it felt rock hard in her gut, like a diamond forming under pressure. She felt herself calm, and her rage turned icy cold. Circe needed something to halt her racing mind and distract her from crafting infinite hypothetical comeback quips or retaliation conversations between her and Snape. She looked around where she stood, for the first time taking in her new lodgings. It was a decent sized room, fitted with an elaborately carved four poster bed with a wonderfully intricate ivy design carved into the pillars. The bedding was a soft plush green and she ran a hand along the mint velvet throw, as gentle as rabbit fur. A sizeable corner desk had been fitted in the same sturdy carved oak, as well as a fitted floor-to-ceiling wardrobe and a vanity table. Three oval mirrors sat atop the vanity and Circe ran her fingers over the faded gold filigree that still sat in the crevices of the ivy patterned carving. She'd always wanted a vanity table since she was a little girl.
Two doors led from her bedroom. Circe walked to one and tentatively pulled it open. On the other side was the greenest, lushest conservatory Circe had ever seen. It was dark outside now, but Circe could see the stars above clearly through the glass roof, and by moonlight every plant and leaf in the room shone as if dipped in silver. It was warm and cozy, despite the chill of September outside, illuminated by what looked like a small enchanted oil lamp that burned on top of a bamboo coffee table. Several books had been left on top of the coffee table, half read by Mcgonagall no doubt. Placed around the table were two matching bamboo armchairs, upholstered with an exotic looking elephant pattern. Circe almost swooned as she imagined herself sinking into one of those chairs and getting lost in her reading for a few hours. Another door led out of the conservatory, leading to Minerva's room adjacent to her.
Ah, Minerva said we shared a conservatory and… her thoughts trailed off and she rounded on herself, walking back through her door into her room. She tried the other door that she had overlooked and peered inside … and a bathroom.
It was modest, but functional. With a standard toilet, sink, mirror and a huge free standing bath slap bang in the middle of the room. The feet of the Bath were wrinkled and clawed like an animal's.
A hippogriff maybe? Circe thought to herself.
The absence of a shower would make mornings longer and a little more difficult. But Circe, once again found herself enjoying the thought of languishing in an opulent bubble bath in this room. Again, just like in the conservatory, another door stood at the other end of the room giving Mcgonagall her entrance into the shared space.
I'll have to try and make a habit of knocking before I come barging in here… she thought to herself. Although... the handles are probably charmed to only allow access to one person at a time.
She gave the door handle to Minerva's room an experimental wiggle, and sure enough, she felt the odd, fiery tingle of a Repellio charm on her skin.
Ah! Also charmed to only allow the occupant of the room inside their quarters! She realised with a smile.
It was still taking her brain some time to adjust back to the magical way of doing things; There was need for locks and chains in Hogwarts when magic did the job for them.
She caught her reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink and sighed. He was right, she did look scruffy.
But not awful! She thought to herself defensively.
She began running her fingers through her curls, something she often did absentmindedly or when she was stressed. After hitting a few knots, she sighed again and took off her glasses for a clean. She tried to push Snape's comments out of her head or to the back of her mind, but they sat there knawing away at her insides like a mouse in a cardboard box. She relinquished that this one little thing had ruined an otherwise wonderful day.
I suppose I could find something to wear. she thought. Put on a bit of lipstick, do my hair up…
She experimentally bunched her hair together in her hands and piled it on top of her head. She gave a silly pout to her reflection and batted her lashes as flirtatiously as she could muster. Her lips were fuller than most girls and her lashes looked quite long with a lick of mascara. She could scrub up quite well when she wanted. But did she want to? Part of her didn't, more out of spite to that black-haired git than laziness on her part.
And why should I? Just to make that rude bugger feel better about having to be seen with me?! He also clearly doesn't realise that Harris tweed is quite expensive… she thought sardonically. God, I'd love to turn up head to toe in tweed just to watch him balk.
And then Circe got an idea… she wandered back into her bedroom and swiftly removed her boots, jeans and turtleneck. She stood in her underwear before the vanity mirror and pushed down her bra straps to leave her shoulders bare. She then picked up her hastily discarded coat and placed it back over her arms and buttoning it up around her midriff. She rifled in a nearby bag and pulled out a belt, fitting it around her waist and sinching the coat in tightly. Finally, she pulled down the neckline of the coat so it hung off her shoulders rather alluringly showing off her full neckline and a tantalising bit of cleavage. It almost looked like a dress…
If you squint your eyes Circe thought, sighing again and dropping herself down onto the edge of her bed.
She was the absolute picture of misery when Mcgonagall knocked gently on her open bedroom door.
"Oh good! You did find your room." Mcgonagall began, seeing Circe sat on the bed through the still slightly ajar door. She walked inside to meet Circe, "I have a few minutes now before the First Years get here. I can see Hagrid loading them into the boats on the other side of the l…" she trailed off as she saw a fat tear roll of Circe's nose and onto her hand. "Whatever is the matter, dear?"
Circe flushed deep red again, embarrassed that she'd put Minerva in this rather awkward situation. She wiped her face swiftly and stood to meet her.
"Minerva, I need your help…" she paused. "And a favor."
Mcgonagall was flabbergasted, "I - well…"
"Please?" Her eyes were red and pleading.
"Of course, dear. What favour do you need?"
"That you don't ask me why I want your help…"
Minerva pursed her lips and sighed in disbelief. "Does this have anything to do with your current upset state?"
Circe did not answer, but her silence was confirmation enough. She didn't want to go crying to Mcgonagall on her first day. It didn't sit well with her to complain about a member of staff only a few hours into her tenure. She'd given up letting adults fight her battles for her a long time ago. Mcgonagall's eyes widened and she nodded slowly. If she'd known the girl better, she would have forced it out of her. But as they were relatively new acquaintances she reluctantly let it pass.. this time.
"Very well. And what help do you require?"
"Can you transfigure this coat into a dress?"
Mcgonagall did not answer, shocked at her question. Somehow she'd expected something a little less trivial, but something about the way Circe asked her made her think it was a very important issue indeed.
"Uhh…" she pulled out her small oval glasses and placed them on her face. "Well yes, I suppose. It should be a fairly easy few spells."
"Like this…" Circe said, demonstrating how she wanted the garment to look and talked her through the elongations and crops she wanted.
Mcgonagall nodded slowly, pulling on the coat and circling round Circe slowly. "Yes…" it should be quite achievable and quite flattering." Mcgonagall said with a raised eyebrow, smirking at Circe. "This isn't to… impress someone is it?" Mcgonagall asked.
"Impress?! No…" Circe replied, suppressing a scoff.
Minerva waited for Circe to offer more, but nothing came.
"Well…" Mcgonagall sighed, taking out her wand. "We better begin."
.
.
.
Severus watched the amassing students in the Great Hall with a detatched air of disdain. The coaches had begun to arrive some minutes ago and he had been there to usher the Slytherins into the hall, careful to avoid looking directly at the Thestrals. Not one of them saw them and despite himself, Severus felt a small stab of relief that his charge had been spared witnessing death since he last relinquished care of them. They chatted aimlessly as they sat at the empty house tables, catching up on the summer and gossiping away. It was an inaudible buzz of noise to Severus and for a while he let himself drift off somewhere else as he watched the gently bobbing candles hanging in the Great Hall's roof.
Students and staff alike entered through the swinging oak doors at the far end of the room, scanning the crowd for faces they recognised, curtly nodding or waving. Professor Sprout and Madame Hooch entered side by side, striding confidently down the central aisle, and took their seats at the other end of the staff table. The seat next to Severeus still remained empty.
Good, he thought to himself , thankful he didn't have to force a conversation with anyone for the time being. Most of the Professors were here now, apart from Dumbledore and Mcgonagall. Oh, and the new staff.
It was almost laughable how fast Hogwarts went through Dark Arts teachers. Of course, it was because of the curse but Severus had requested of Dumbledore a number of times to appoint him to the role. Perhaps the curse would not affect him, considering the favour he had once curried with the Dark Lord. But alas, no. He had yet to meet this year's 'lamb to the slaughter'. Severus had thought that it was that girl he had met in the Staff Room earlier, until she had clarified she was to start teaching Ancient Studies. She certainly looked more bookish than of boggarts…
He could tell he had offended her earlier. Something about the fiery look in her eyes reminded him of a night with Lily several years ago... That was certainly a look he remembered. Yet, he still didn't quite feel regretful over what he'd said to the newbie. He seemed to offend everyone sooner or later. Painful as it was, it eventually benefitted all; It drove them away from him, sparing them from his acid temper, and left him to the solitude he'd come to prize over the years.
Drowsiness tickled at his eyelids as his head rested on his crooked arm. Severus found himself dreaming of his soon-to-be filled wine goblet in front of him when Dumbledore entered the Hall. He serenely floated amongst the bobbing heads of students, his golden glasses winking off the delicate candlelight above. A warm smile touched the corner of his mouth as he nodded his head curtly from student to student. Behind him in tow followed an unfamiliar face to all gathered. The nervous fellow was wringing his hands quite shakily, yet Severus doubted anyone would have clocked his nervous tick first. On his head he wore a wrapped silken purple turban, an exotic look even for wizarding kind. Snape raised an eyebrow at the man and he almost seemed to wither at the sight of him.
"Staff…" Dumbledore began, addressing the teacher's table. "I wish to introduce the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to you all. Professor Quirinus Quirrell." he gestured to the man and he stepped dutifully forward.
A few staff members politely clapped him in welcome.
"Pppp-pleased to meet you all." Quirrell stuttered.
Snape groaned. Bloody hell… This is the broken record Dumbledore has employed this year? He rolled his eyes and sighed to himself. He'll be gone by Christmas.
"Professor, it looks like there is still a spare seat next to Severus" Dumbledore extended a long sleeve towards Snape.
Severus narrowed his eyes to knife slits and glared with all his might at Albus. He pictured burying the knife and fork in front of him into the old man's back as they both took their seats.
"Ssssss-severus Snape, is it?" The turbaned man asked as he pulled up his chair.
Severus sighed deeply again and reluctantly let himself be dragged into small talk once more.
"IIiiiii - I'm affffffffraid I've only been back in the ccccc-country for a short while. After all that nnnn-nasty business with that hag in the Black Forest in the summer."
"Quite the sabbatical, then." Severus added, hoping that would be the end of the man's ramblings. He had been beguiling Severus with his travelling tales for quite some time now. "Have you met the other new staff member?" He asked, desperate to change the conversation.
"The Ancient Studies tttttt-teacher? Oh yes, briefly. Looks like a nice girl. She sssshh-should be along shortly. Fixing her hair, you see." Quirrell giggled and tried to muster a wink at Severus.
"Hmm, she does own a comb then..." Severus added dryly.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Severus had noted that she wasn't here. Surely he'd not upset her so much she didn't want to come out of her rooms? He'd debated going to fetch her himself, giving her a lecture in developing a thick skin. She'd need one if she was going to teach here… Perhaps he'd even intended to apologize if needs be. He was shaken from his thoughts of the girl as Quirrell leaned in close.
"You see, Severus, my grand tour last year was more of a hunt than a sabbatical."
Good lord, we're back on this subject are we? Severus thought to himself.
"Mmmm, a hunt for what?" He asked, thoroughly disinterested.
"Not what. Who."
Snape's apathy melted away as he realized the man's stutter had suddenly disappeared. He said nothing, searching Quirrell's face intently.
"As it happens, my friend, you and I now share more than just Dumbledore as an… employer." Quirrell paused, returning Severus's intense stare with a wicked smile.
"What?" Severus breathed.
The giant wooden doors of the Great Hall swung open once more and there, in all her glory, was Circe. Students and teachers alike all had their eyes on her as she began her walk to the professor's table. Her newly amended tartan gown billowed behind her in a modest bustle, giving the impression that she was almost floating. Just as she had wished, her dress hung alluringly off her shoulders and she had pinned up her hair to draw attention to its openness, letting a few curled strands fall about her neck. To complete the look, Minerva had leant her a pair of brown leather gloves and a deep crimson garnet brooch, which she had pinned gratefully to her chest. She tried to look as aloof as possible, walking in long swinging strides and pouting her painted lips. She finished her catwalk of triumph as she reached the staff table. For the briefest of moments she locked eyes with Severus. She squinted, the lids of her eyes now made up in wonderful smoky browns, and gave him the tartest side-eye she could muster. He closed his mouth hurriedly, thinking he'd regained his composure before she'd seen him. She'd seen it. Her mouth turned up in a smirk of triumph and she scoffed. If Severus had any colour left in his face, he would have turned bright red.
"My dear, what a resplendent gown." Professor Sprout acclaimed. "I daresay you'll have the well-earned attention and respect of all the young souls here tonight in such an outfit as that!"
"Oh this old thing?" Circe feigned modestly, moving behind the table. "Well… I do rather think that any teacher worth their salt should command respect from students even if they were wearing a hessian sack."
"Hear hear…" Dumbledore chimed in, winking at Circe, almost as if he knew all about the secret war between her and Severus.
Snape's fists clenched in his lap. She did not have to speak at him for him to know he had been thoroughly checked.
"Headmaster." Circe replied, bowing her head.
"My child, how good to see you again." Dumbledore cooed. "And looking so well."
"Oh, I had a few moments before the Feast began. So I got a bit dressed up, and I thought…" she paused as she passed Severus's chair "... Harris tweed is so expensive. I really must wear it as much as I can to get my money's worth!"
A few professors laughed as Circe took her seat. Severus ground his teeth. Rather infuriatingly, she'd not graced him with a glance since her revenge-smirk. And it was all Severus could do to stop his eyes from wandering back to her bare neckline every few seconds.
Circe had barely been seated a minute before Mcgonagall entered, the First Years in tow. How baby faced and bushy-tailed they all looked. Circe watched as she saw many of their heads lean back, staring at amazement at the bewitched roof of the Great Hall. She remembered with fondness her first day at Hogwarts and her own sorting ceremony. The wonder of seeing it all for the first time, the excitement of finding a pace in your true wizarding family from the mouth of the Sorting Hat… She sighed happily to herself and continued to watch as they chatted merrily amongst themselves. Amongst them, stark and easily identifiable thanks to his untidy mop of Beatle-like black hair was The Boy Who Lived.
Good Lord, he does look like his father…
A burst of embarrassment ran through her as Harry looked up from his conversations with the red haired boy next to him, straight at the staff table. For a second, she thought he was staring back at her and she'd been caught gawking at him, but no... He was looking at…
She stole a glance over to Severus. The poor man looked even paler than normal, and a damn sight more shocked than he had been by her entrance. He looked like a rabbit in the headlights as he stared with utmost intensity back at the boy. Perhaps he was having the same thoughts she was, but he looked a damn sight more stunned, arrested...Longing, even. It was odd to say the least. And, almost as if it had never happened and she'd completely imagined it, their eye contact was broken. Snape went back to his conversation with the turbaned man beside him, and Potter to his newfound friends.
Circe suddenly felt like she was watching something she wasn't meant to see. Something had changed about Snape's countenance and composure. Perhaps it was the fidgeting bounce in his leg beneath the table. Perhaps it was the far off look in his eye as he pretended to listen. She suddenly felt very foolish at her whole Cinderella revenge fantasy she'd cooked up. She slumped back in her chair as Mcgonagall began alphabetically reading through the First Year names for sorting. Circe dutifully applauded as each new Ravenclaw was acclaimed and went bounding off to their table, and seeing their unbridled joy pass their little faces lifted her spirits somewhat. Still, her heart felt heavy as she watched in fascination at Potter's sorting. The hat was quiet for a full two minutes, most sorting was complete in a few seconds. It was almost torturous to all watching. From the corner of her eye, she clocked that Snape's bouncing leg had stopped.
What is he expecting? She thought to herself.
The room erupted into chaos as the hat finally attributed Potter to Gryffindor.
Oh good, at least he's with the red haired boy. She thought to herself.
The young man bounded over to his friend and what looked like a selection of older red haired brothers and sisters, who welcomed him with open arms. All at once Circe felt the bittersweet taste of nostalgia in her mouth.
I had a family like that here once too… until I forsook it.
-----
The Feast had been a spectacular affair and Circe felt practically stuffed full of delicious sweets and treats and more than a few generous helpings of wine. Yet, as the students shuffled out of the room, led by the prefects, Dumbledore cornered her before she could sneak off to bed.
"My dear, I wondered if you would join us for a little staff meeting in my office when the students are all in bed."
"I'm afraid I was never important, or naughty, enough to know where your office was, Headmaster." Circe replied.
He laughed and passed on the instructions to her.
A few hours later, after a quick change into something decidedly more average, Circe emerged from the griffin entrance of Dumbledore's office. There sat awaiting the old Headmaster was Professor Sprout, Flitwick, Mcgonagall and…. of course, Snape. Their heads turned as one to greet her and Circe thought she saw Severus's eyes widen in shock.
"Circe, come and sit!" Mcgonagall waved her over. Of course the only vacant seat was next to Snape.
She moved over to the vacant chair and reluctantly took her seat. She crossed her legs and sighed, avoiding his eyes. Severus cleared his throat. He desperately searched for something to say to her to bridge the gap he had helped to create, but was falling woefully short. His searching thoughts halted as he checked himself.
Why do you care? She's no one to add one more enemy to the ever-surmounting list. And he let the silence continue.
A few moments later, Dumbledore arrived and greeted his guests. He offered his "evenings" to all as he dutifully placed the Sorting Hat back in its place, ready to await the sorting ceremony next year.
"I trust you all realise why I have called you here." Dumbledore began as he lowered himself into the golden chair behind his desk.
"Oh yes, Headmaster…" Pomona replied. "The Devil's Snare I have planted has taken quite nicely and should be ready to-"
"I believe the Headmaster asked us not to discuss our plans for our level of protection with each other." Minerva cut in, fixing Pomona with a stern stare.
"Yes, so no one of any of us knows too much information about what is protecting the Stone." Flitwick chimed in.
"Um I'm sorry, but what's going on?" Circe asked tentatively.
Silence fell as all eyes turned to her.
"Severus, would you care to explain to our new faculty member…?" Dumbledore turned to Snape expectantly.
Circe heard him sigh as he begrudgingly turned to face her. Their eyes met and Circe felt her breath catch in her throat as it had done when he'd looked at her like that before…
"The school has been bestowed with protecting the Philosopher's Stone. Headmaster Dumbledore acquired it during the summer and has asked all of us here gathered to each contribute a level of protection to keep the Stone from harm."
"The Philosopher's Stone…?" Circe breathed. "Nicholas Flamel has finally relinquished it after all these years?"
"You know of Flamel?" Minerva asked, surprised.
"Well she is here to teach Ancient Studies…" Snape commented dryly. "And Flamel is nothing if not ancient."
"And considering your substantial expertise on these matters, Professor Smith.." Dumbledore fixed her with his knowing gaze, "I would also like to ask you to add your own protective magic to the Stone's defenses."
"Protection from what?" Circe asked, folding her arms.
Severus's head snapped up and he fixed Dumbledore with a knowing look. Albus looked to Severus, and then to Minerva, who nodded slowly.
"It is possible, Professor, that a very dangerous and dark wizard has learnt of the Stone's existence and seeks out its life-prolonging properties."
Circe was quiet for a long time. She felt the blood in her veins turn icy as a thought passed through her mind. Surely not…
"Voldemort…?" she breathed.
Professor Sprout and Flitwick flinched at the mention of the name. Severus remained unmoving, watching her now more intently than ever.
"All we have to go on currently is just rumours and speculation. But yes, that is whom we suspect."
"But… How? I thought he was gone after-"
"I'm afraid, Professor Smith, that that is a conversation for another day." Dumbledore raised his hand, halting her question.
It was infuriating for her to be dismissed in such a manner but she reluctantly swallowed the sleight and breathed in deeply.
"Well, of course Headmaster. I shall think of something."
"Excellent." Dumbledore chimed in a startlingly chipper tone. "Minerva shall show you how to find and access the Stone's protection chambers when you need it. And of course, I hope it does not bear repeating how secrecy is of the utmost importance of our work here."
"No, of course Headmaster."
"Excellent. Well I shan't keep you all from your beds any longer. It has been a long and tiring day for many of us, I'm sure."
Circe moved to go, aching for her bed.
"Oh actually before I forget…!" Dumbledore added, freezing her in her tracks. "Severus, Circe, a word with both of you before you go."
Circe balled her fists and closed her eyes. She breathed deep again to center herself before turning to stand before Dumbledore's desk, Severus waiting expectantly next to her. His presence felt heavy and looming beside her. The other professors shuffled out of the room, leaving them alone with the Headmaster.
"I had rather hoped to speak to you both before the start of term. But other pressing issues took priority over… curriculum matters." Dumbledore began.
"Headmaster…?" Snape questioned in his slow drawl.
"You see, although we value your expertise in relation to the Stone's protection, Circe. It seems that the students here at Hogwarts are less appreciative."
"Sorry Headmaster, am I employed to teach here or not?" She asked impatiently. She'd heard speeches like this before. Normally followed by a timetable cut or a P45…
"Oh of course, Professor. But uptake of the OWL in Ancient Studies has not been as popular as we'd hoped."
"Yes, probably because Professor Babbling had a talent of making any topic as dull as dishwater." Snape added.
"Well, possibly…" Dumbledore conceded. "Nevertheless, your predecessor did not do favors for your subject and you currently only have three classes on your timetable to teach."
Circe signed. "So what does this mean for me, Headmaster." She asked, her irritation up.
"Well, I certainly hope very much you still wish to continue to teach here. And considering you have rather a lot of free time on your timetable, I thought it would be a good idea to make you an honorary member of the Potions department."
"I'm sorry?" She asked, surprise plain on her face.
Snape said nothing, but shock plastered on his stark features also.
"Potions is a core subject, large classes, always popular uptake in official exam years. It could only be beneficial to students for you to split-teach or assist in some of Severus's classes."
"You mean… working with one another?"
"Liaising, planning, assisting with ingredient preparation. All things that you complain to no end about, Severus."
"Yes, but hardly tasks that will ease my workload if I have to preside over a novice at each turn." He added curtly, casting a side-eye at Circe.
"Hardly a novice, Severus. Circe informed me on her CV that she studied Potions up to NEWTS level."
"Yes, but that was a long time ago Headmaster."
"Oh come now, I believe you are selling yourself short. I'm sure it's like learning to ride a bike, you'll pick it up again in no time."
"Do I have any choice in the matter?" Severus asked through clenched teeth.
"Well of course. But I really don't think I could justify paying a full time salary to a teacher that only has three classes on their timetable to the Governors, Severus. I'm afraid they'd ask for Professor Smith's dismissal."
Circe was fuming. She'd left her life In Edinburgh behind for this. And what happens next year if uptake was poor again? If her and Professor Snape hadn't torn each other's throats out before then. Of course, if he conceded to allow her to teach some of his lessons… She didn't feel hopeful in this regard. Her heart sank at the thought of having to leave Hogwarts again so soon after coming back home. Perhaps Edinburgh castle would take her back on if she begged them...
"Then I suppose I shall allow it."
Snape's reply startled her. She snapped her downcast eyes up from her feet and looked at him. Utterly lost for words, all she could do was stare at him. His face betrayed nothing, a perfect mask of composure. How she wished she could crack open his skull to read his thoughts at that exact moment.
"Splendid!" Dumbledore declared, throwing his hands up into the air. "I shall send out the necessary information and changes to students timetables accordingly."
"Are we finished here?" Snape asked cooly.
"I believe so."
"Then I shall excuse myself for the night. Professor. Headmaster." He nodded curtly to both and strode from the room before either could make their replies. Circe was left still speechless in his wake.
"Well…" Dumbledore began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I'm sure this is the start of a wonderful working relationship between you both."
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