Bab 35: Chapter 35: "Someday you will find me caught beneth the landslide."
Notes:
AN: I tried to describe in the best way I could how I experience my panic attacks. Hope it translated well x
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Explaining why Circe had up and abandoned Karkaroff and Maxime in Deacon Brodie's the next day was a bit of a task. Safe to say, the rest of their overnight stay in Edinburgh had taken much more of a frosty and awkward turn after the French and Bulgarian Head's had been left to find their own way back to the accommodation after she'd seemingly walked out of the toilets and abandoned them, not even turning to hede them when they'd called after her. Her friendliness with Maxime and Karkaroff was shot after that, but Circe was hard pressed to care about the loss of warm feeling for either of them. She'd spent most of the night after she'd wandered back to the Halls, crying to Remus. He was the only person she'd divulged the full extent of her forgetfulness too, other than Severus, and since their little confrontation at the World Cup she'd not divulged even to him how serious it had gotten.
Remus had begged her to see Dumbledore and tell him about it, which she had reluctantly promised to him to do as soon as she got back to Hogwarts. In return Circe had made Remus promise her that he would stay in the Student Halls flat that the foregin students had stayed in during their overnight Edinburgh stay. It was all part of her plan: the only people who rented out the rooms that the Beauxbattons and Durmstrang students had used were visiting guest lecturers or Erasmus students. People who either weren't staying long or didn't tend to ask many questions. It wasn't the best of high living, but at twenty five pounds a week it was cheap, and something that Circe could afford. Remus of course had tried to turn down her offer to pay for a room for him, but after Circe had also promised to send Lupin wolfsbane whenever she could smuggle the ingredients from Snape's storage room, the offer became too good for him to turn down.
"If you're ever short at the end of the month… because of me, just say and I'll find somewhere else to go, Circe." Remus had said to her as he hugged her goodbye in the morning.
"It's fine, Remus. I can't offer you a couch to sleep on anymore, but I'll help you in any way I can." she replied, thinking again of the annoying little dog barking up at her from her old sofa.
She cringed as the memory of that awful incident came back in a sudden flash.
"Go and tell Dumbledore what happened last night." Remus said gently.
"I will... it's just… I don't know how much he'll be able to help. Perhaps I'm just going mad."
"Go. And. See. Him." Remus said firmly. "Don't be like me. Acknowledge when you need help and ask for it."
After a rather pained and haughty second day of touring Edinburgh, Circe was relieved when they left the city by way of Morag's fireplace and were back at Hogwarts by the late afternoon. Circe had left her memories outside Dumbledore's office, in the little glass vial he'd given her, at the base of his office door. She didn't feel quite brave enough to hand them over to the Headmaster and look him in the eye as she did so, but she'd knocked on his door and bolted for her chambers as fast as she could before it could open. She'd flopped into her bed and wept for many a long hour into her pillow, wondering about her disastrously out-of-sorts head.
I forgot them all… she thought as she rubbed away the moisture from her glasses for the umpteenth time. I forgot Minerva and Remus and… Severus. I forgot every single bit of it.
Her heart ached at the idea that one day she may never be able to recall that she ever came back to Hogwarts, her home, her life. It had reminded her of just how much of a miserable, un-magic existence she had led before she had decided to take up the position here. How had she ever felt nostalgic for that?! She drifted into an uneasy sleep and woke the next day with her face feeling tight and crusted with salt.
At least she'd remembered this time that today was important. It was the day of the first challenge…
Activities were not due to start until the mid-morning, so she took the opportunity to have a long and leisurely bath. She filled the hippogriff-footed tub with an excessive amount of bubbles and essential oils, until the whole room smelt like a florist shop. She bunched her hair up high and left her clothes in a crumple on the floor, settling down into the warm water with a heavy sigh. It was relaxing for a while, until she became introspective and melancholy, the silence and emptiness of the bathroom giving her time and space to think over things she wanted to forget. She pushed a pile of bubbles around with her foot, wondering if Dumbledore had looked at her incriminating memories yet. She thought too of Gilderoy, poor Gilderoy who still sat in St Mungo's with a mind like swiss cheese. If they couldn't help him get his head in order, then would anyone be able to help her? She thought of her mother and the mantra that she'd taught her:
"As long as you have a beating heart, and two hands to heal with, there's nothing in your day that you don't have the strength to tackle."
She began to cry, her tears dropping into the bathwater around her. For the first time in her life, she was feeling like her mother's words of wisdom fell a bit short.
As the water turned cold, she drained the bath and rose to dress swiftly. If a bath hadn't helped to brighten her mood, then food might. And it was high time that she got over herself and went to get a croissant and a hot chocolate from the Staff Room. She pulled on an oversized, deep orange jumper and paired it with a pleated autumnal-coloured plaid skirt and thick black tights. Her trusty tartan coat was still on the back of her vanity chest's chair, and she threw it over her shoulders as she strode from her room, eager for as much chocolate and pastries as she could lay her hands on.
There were still a few staff present in the Staff Room when Circe entered. She caught Maxime's eye as she passed her, just on her way out, and the two women nodded curtly to one another.
"Ah, Professor Smith. Come to finally enjoy the delights of France." Maxime asked.
"Indeed. Couldn't resist any longer."
"Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to tend to a few last minute matters with Madame Delacour." Circe nodded and moved to sidestep past her.
The giant stopped her, holding her in place with a single raise of her finger.
"You see what I did there, Professor?" Maxime asked sardonically. "I told you that I needed to go before I left..." she finished so icily there could have been snowflakes on her breath.
Circe blushed fiercely as Maxime left her in deep embarrassment. The giant woman strode from the room as poised haughtily regal as Marie Antoinette. Circe sighed heavily once she had gone and closed her eyes. She gathered up her scant pride and pushed on to the sweet treats that had been left in the small kitchenette. A small group of Professors sat in a rough circle in one corner, each of them with a large mug of chocolat chaud and a huge, sugar-dusted croissant. Minerva gave her a small wave, placing her croissant down on the coffee table before her, beside a rather large cauldron of something iridescent and shimmering. Circe made her way over to the kitchenette and ladelled herself out a drink from a huge cauldron of steaming, thick, brown liquid and grabbed an almond topped pastry. She settled down next to Minerva, nodding politely at Filius and Rolanda from across the circle. They seemed to be talking about something that was getting them all in a bit of a giggle.
"... but it was the smell of dog that told me. And then I knew. She's head over heels for Hagrid!" Minerva said with a wide smile.
"What? Who are we talking about?" Circe asked, already feeling a little better for the distraction of gossip. "Who's head over heels for Hagrid?"
"Olympe!" Flitwick said with a giggle. "After she walked in here and smelt the-"
Minerva kicked him and he shut-up. "The-the chocolate. Quite an aphrodisiac is it not?"
"So they say…" Circe said with an eye-roll.
She munched into her croissant happily, drawn into a conversation Rolanda was having about the dates being set for this year's Quidditch matches. Minerva leant over to Filius with a cheeky smile, seeing she was momentarily distracted.
"Don't tell her it's amortentia." she whispered, casting an eye back to the cauldron on the coffee table. "Those Weasley twins have caused me enough trouble after I caught them brewing a batch big enough to give out to the whole of the Gryffindor female population. Let's have a little enjoyment out of it…"
"Oh Minerva, you are shameless!" Flitwick laughed.
They both leant back into their chairs and Minerva cleared her throat. "Ahemm, Circe? Can you smell that in the air...?"
"What?" Circe said, turning back to Mcgonagall.
"There's something in here that I can't quite place. A strange aroma…"
Circe took a sip of her hot chocolate and put it down on the table. She sniffed deeply and Minerva and Filius both looked at her with eager eyes.
"I don't know… I mean, when I came in here, I thought there might not be any croissants left, it smelt more like… teacakes than pastries."
"Oh yes…?" Minerva pressed.
"And somebody's got some very strong aftershave on. Very sandalwoody."
"Sandalwood. Interesting."
"And whatever Severus has got in there…" she gestured to the cauldron. "It stinks. God, no wonder his clothes always smell like burnt herbs because he's toasted whatever he put in that."
Minerva beamed from ear to ear. "Teacakes, sandalwood and burnt herbs, ehh?"
At that moment, Filch walked over to the circle of staff and butt in with a raspy cough.
"Ahemm, excuse me Professors. But that Skeeter woman is here again, and she's trying to bribe students for different bits of their uniform so she can smuggle herself into the common rooms. I caught her trying to get into the Hufflepuff dormitory so she could sneak an interview with Diggory."
"Oh for goodness sake…" Circe said, downing her hot chocolate and pocketing the rest of her croissant. "I'll go and tell her to bugger off."
"Oh, hang on. I know what Skeeter's like. I'll come with you." Rolanda added.
"Me too." Filius said, jumping out of his seat. "I still haven't got over when she published my height as three foot one. I'm clearly three foot eight!"
Most of the staff left to show Rita Skeeter off and Minerva was left quite alone. After a while, she heard the House Elves clamouring away behind her as they tidied away the croissants and hot chocolate. Minerva didn't look at them, knowing they preferred to be left alone and out of sight whilst they worked. She smiled to herself as she watched the steam of the amortentia curling seductively from the cauldron before her.
So she's smitten with him too then, eh? Oh, poor girl!
Almost as if thoughts of him had made him appear, in the next moment Severus came striding into the staff room with a flurry. With a jump, Minerva covered the amortentia with her shawl. If Circe hadn't recognised the potion on sight, then Severus almost certainly would.
"Minerva." he said with a curt nod, heading for the big brass espresso machine.
He had never been a fan of hot chocolate, preferring black coffee instead, and had therefore declined Madame Maxime's food offering, only coming to the Staff Room once the initial rush for the chocolat chaud and pastries had passed.
"Severus." she replied.
She watched as Severus seemed to halt in his tracks, coming to a sudden stop as he craned his head upwards ever so slightly.
"You know… someone should tell our blasted Ancient Studies Professor that she wears way too much of that peony and blushed suede perfume. I can tell she was just here. God, she must be drenched in it."
Minerva hadn't smelt even the slightest trace of perfume on Circe, and she covered her mouth with a hand, trying to disguise her massive smile.
"Oh, I'll have a wee word with her…." she muttered, leaning on her armchair.
"Madame Maxime's still leaving hot chocolate and croissants out for the staff too? That really should be put a stop to; Filius won't be able to fit in his robes by the end of the year if that's on offer every morning…"
But that was all taken away by the House Elves a while ago... Whatever he's smelling there, it must be chocolatey. Minerva wondered.
"You know, the French seem to think they hold the superior position when it comes to pastries and cooking. Doesn't smell any bloody different from a chocolate yule log to me…" Snape muttered, pouring his coffee into a mug.
Ah.
Minerva cleared her throat and thought of something to say back to Severus quickly. "Oh you're, quite right Severus. Give me scampi and chips over escargot any day…"
"Is there a window open in here? Or has Rolanda tracked mud all the way through the castle again? Ugh, it smells like the bottom of the Quidditch pitch in here."
Minerva couldn't control her giggling aymore, and as she stood up brusquely, grabbing the cauldron in both hands she tried to fight down her laughs as she hurried from the room. Severus watched her go with a strange look, thinking the old witch may have been choking, judging by the noises she had made.
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Circe had been held up for some time by Rita Skeeter's antics. The journalist was tenacious and had escaped the Hogwarts Professors by running from classroom to classroom screeching about "freedom of the press". They'd lost track of her somewhere around the greenhouses, but Circe and the others were satisfied enough that the awful little spin-doctor was far enough away from the competitors.
The first challenge's commencement was approaching fast. Most of the students were already making their ways down to the stadium. Fred and George were shouting to the migrating students, taking bets and placing odds on each of the Tri-Wizard champions. Circe would have told them off for attempting to start a betting ring, but she didn't have the mental energy. Apparently Cedric was the firm favorite , which Circe could have guessed from the excessive numbers of 'Potter stinks' badges she'd seen littering the halls and the quads. Poor Harry swore black, blind and blue that he hadn't put his name in the Goblet, and Circe was inclined to believe him. If the treatment he'd received from the other Hogwarts students wasn't proof enough, then the lost and hurt look in his eyes that she'd seen as he went from lesson to lesson just about confirmed it for her. She'd done her best to try and get him and Weasley to make up, pairing them together in lessons and giving them little carry-and-fetch tasks for her in her classroom, but Circe had heard the red-haired boy complaining to Dean Thomas how much he'd been hurt by Harry's flippant remarks about the "riches and glory" that the winners got. Circe knew the Weasley's weren't particularly well off and it had tugged on her heartstrings a little to hear how Ron would have used the competition prize money to help his family out. Circe wandered to herself as she walked amongst the students.
Ron wouldn't be Tri-Wizard material anyway. Ginny on the other hand….
The Weasley girl was showing promise. Circe had gotten over her initial fright of the girl, after the rather demonic way she'd popped up behind her in the Hogwarts tunnels a few years back. The memory of Ginny's eyes rolling in her head like white snooker balls was faded, and Ginny had decided to take Ancient Studies as one of her options. She liked the girl, she was feisty, opinionated, incredibly witty, and not as officious as her now departed brother, Percy.
Or did Percy leave last year?
Circe groaned and kicked a stone on the pathway leading to the stadium. She watched it plummet over the cliff's edge where the stadium had been built and she listened for the plop of it reaching the bottom. She almost jumped out of her skin when instead she heard the roaring of the dragons. Her ears were filled with the primal, animalistic growls of the magical beasts and an acute fear rose up in Circe's chest. She didn't know why she felt so frightened all of a sudden. All of the students around her looked at one another and breathed out their "wows", revelling in the danger of the upcoming task. Circe was shaking uncontrollably.
She turned around and stared over the cliff's edge, anxious that none of the students should see how frightened she was. She tried to calm herself down, taking deep, levelled breaths, all the time wondering what the sound reminded her of. And why the sound scared her and tapped into a fear that turned her legs to jelly. She sat down on a rock as her breaths grew shorter and more desperate. She was panicking. She felt faint. Sweaty. Like she was constantly on a part of a rollercoaster that was dipping down, her diaphragm up in her chest.
"Circe, are you alright?" a voice at her back said.
She turned around sharply, unable to stop her legs and arms from shaking.
"Severus, I'm going to die…" she spluttered.
Snape looked around him, at the last few students ambling into the stadium. He waved his wand and in a flash a wall of stones had built up around them, shielding Circe from prying eyes. Everything seemed at once painfully slow and ungodly fast to Circe. Her face was coated in tears in a matter of seconds as she fought against her thumping heart. It felt like it was thrashing about in death-throws inside her. And she couldn't quite suck in enough air with each ragged breath.
"It's alright, you're not going to die. It's an anxiety attack." Severus said gently to her as he crouched down before her and held her trembling hands.
"I'm dying, I'm having a heart-attack…" she said in a blind panic.
"No you aren't. It'll pass." he said forcefully.
Circe sobbed and Severus gripped her hand tighter.
"Tell me your top three albums of the past ten years." he said.
"Wha-What?"
"Hurry up! Top three albums of the last ten years."
"I… I don't know… Umm, Paul Simon, Graceland. Nevermind, Nirvana… and uhhh What's the Story Morning Glory."
"Alright, most overrated artist of the past ten years."
"Madonna."
"Most underrated artist of the past ten years."
"Tom Waits."
"Someone you want to see live."
"The Cranberries or umm Fleetwood Mac."
"Top musician of all time."
"David Bowie."
Severus paused, looking at her for a moment as she seemed to settle back into normality. Circe sniffed, feeling her heart-rate slow and the panic die down. She breathed out, long and steady and looked at Severus's hand on top of hers. She withdrew from him suddenly, wrapping herself in a tight clutch.
"Feel better?" he eventually asked.
"Yes…" she whispered. "Thanks for the distractions. How did you know what to do?"
"I… once knew someone who also suffered from anxiety attacks."
"Oh."
"How long have you been… like this?" he asked as he stared into her emerald green eyes.
They were red and stained with running mascara but they still took his breath away.
"That… that was the first time it's overtaken me." She said slowly. "I can normally calm myself down but, I don't know… something about the noise the dragons made…. It just sent me over."
"Sometimes there are triggers and sometimes there aren't." he mumbled, looking at the ground.
"But triggering what?! Why do I feel like this when the kids don't seem to bat an eye?" she cried, wiping her eyes. "I never used to be scared of loud noises. But now… it's like it reminds me of something. Something that's never bloody happened! Something horrible…"
Severus avoided her searching eyes, looking for an answer to her ever increasing problems. It was all becoming too much. The forgetfulness, the bad dreams, and now panic attacks. Severus too felt a stirring in his core, an uncomfortable feeling eating away at his insides. This special, wonderful, beautiful woman was changing because of the memories he'd replaced. When he'd saved her from the werewolf attack, he'd never have thought it would somehow affect her in such a dramatic way. He could only imagine the turmoil her mind must be in, ticking over an experience that she couldn't remember, dealing with trauma that she couldn't place or explain.
And it's all my fault…
"Anyway, I thought you said that I have to "stay away" from you." she said bitterly, looking out over the cliffs again. "Why don't you just leave me alone to be buried in my mental landslide."
"Circe, I…I still…" he stuttered.
I still love you. He thought. I'd do anything to have you be alright. I love you. I love you…
He closed his mouth, not trusting himself to leave his lips parted, in case his confessions escaped his mind.
Circe stood up quickly, brushing herself down. "You know… I always hoped I'd be one of those Miss Havisham head-cases, know what I mean? Nice and graceful, aristocratic, champagne at seven in the morning, nineteen- twenties film star dressing gown. Burn out like a star collapsing in on itself. Not like this, not like this…"
She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve and waved her wand, the stone wall disintegrating away in a flash. Severus felt on the verge of tears himself as he watched her gravely pull her coat tighter around her and march on into the stadium. He wanted to run to her so badly, pull her hand back and take her into a kiss that said everything he felt for her: Let her know she wasn't alone. That telling her to stay away from him was the hardest thing he'd ever said. That he fought the compulsion to be at her side every waking moment of the day. How much his soul burned for her.
"Circe, are you sure it's a good idea to watch the first challenge considering-"
"Then you better think of some more music questions, Severus." she responded shortly, refusing to look at him.
Circe took her seat in the Staff stands, feeling the heavy presence of Severus behind her, his dark eyes boring into her back. Dumbledore's voice was loud, echoing through the stadium over the roar of the children.
"IT IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT YOU STAY IN YOUR SEATS AT ALL TIMES. YOU WILL BE PROTECTED FROM THE TRIALS OF THE CHALLENGE, AS LONG AS YOU STAY SEATED."
Circe took her seat beside Karkaroff. "What happens if we stand up?" she asked.
"Ah well, the protective spells are strong, but limited. Can you imagine the effort it must take to weave a layer of protection around the whole stands? But keep it small enough so it doesn't interfere with the challenge, of course."
"So what? They just cast it so it skims over the top of our heads?"
"Exactly."
Severus stood at her side, looking down on her with a pale, mournful face. "Circe, no one will think less of you if you go back to the-"
"Oh fine, Severus!" Circe said frustratedly, standing back up. "I'll sit on the end of the bench and you go next to Karkaroff. Just like the bloody weedy kids in Primary school who sat on the end of the row incase they got a sudden nosebleed." she got up and dragged Snape by the arm until their positions were swapped. "If I need to go, I'll just get up and go, alright?"
"But remember to keep your head low, Professor!" Karkaroff called to her.
"PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS IMMEDIATELY, SPECTATORS!" Dumbledore boomed again.
The remaining students milling around on their feet sat down, shuffling about as they made themselves comfortable. Circe too settled into her new seat, at Severus's side. She looked out into the arena: a rocky, craggy landscape with a singular golden egg at its center. There were two entrances into the arena, one large and one small.
One for dragon and one for student. She thought.
"PROTEGO MAXIMA!" Dumbledore shouted as a hush descended over the crowd. From the end of his wand, a thin, spidery web of deep blue magic began settling neatly over the heads of all who sat in the stands watching. Circe felt it skim over the top of her head, stopping short a mere two or three inches above her crown.
"Gosh that is cutting it fine." she muttered to herself.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE WELCOME TO THE ARENA... THE FIRST HOGWARTS CHAMPION, CEDRIC DIGGORY!"
The crowd erupted into a roar as Cedric walked out of his door, clad in his shining yellow Hufflepuff outfit. He waved a little nervously at a few people in the crowd, most notably up at Cho, in the stand opposite Circe. She beamed back down at the boy and Circe rolled her eyes.
Ugh, how is it a fourteen year old has got a better love life than me?
Cedric pulled his wand from his pocket and stepped into the arena.
Almost immediately, a menacing growl emanated from deep within the larger of the two entrances and Circe flinched at the noise. A few thunderous booms heralded the approach of the dragon as its massive feet padded along to the arena. Circe began to shake, her hands jittering in her lap. And then, it was there: a massive great Swedish Short-Snout, its scales a beautiful blueish-grey that almost blended into the rocks of the arena, and when it snorted, it spurted out calor-gas blue flames from its nostrils. Circe gasped and Severus looked to her with deep concern embedded in his eyes. The dragon roared, opening it's stunted snout to reveal a multitude of long and sharp fangs, bared at poor Cedric. Circe's head went reeling, flashing images and scenes of a tableau of horror, from a night she could not remember, of a tragedy that she could not recall. Claws, jaws, blood, screams. It was all happening again. As she watched Diggory battling his dragon, she could feel the pull of her memories slipping away down the drain again. Try as she might, she could feel parts of herself dripping away again, but she fought desperately to hang on to them.
"Circe?" Severus asked, having not taken his eyes from her since she first whimpered with fright.
"No, I can't forget…" she uttered so quietly it was lost in the noise of the dragon. Her eyes locked with Severus's as her breathing grew rapid again. "I'd rather die than forget you." she whispered.
Severus frowned, but his attentions were distracted as the crowd cried out and Diggory had to rush for cover, having narrowly just missed grasping the golden egg.
When he looked back, Circe was standing up.
"Circe! What the bloody hell are you doing?! Sit down!" he tried to grab her, but she sidestepped his grab, moving into the corridor.
The dragon snapped it's head up and Circe gasped as she locked eyes with the beast.
Oh shit… she thought as the beast reared up, the blue flames already spewing out of its mouth, heading straight for her. Nope, changed my mind! Changed my mind! I'm not ready to be burnt to a crisp yet…
But it was too late, she felt the bright hot heat of the flames on her face, heading straight for her. She was dazzled, like a rabbit in the headlights.
And then, she felt her legs being swept out from underneath her as a pair of strong arms tackled her to the ground. She went falling backwards, watching as she was enveloped in the protective layer of the protego spell again and the blue flames sailed harmlessly overhead. But the space behind her was the walkway up to the stands, and she and whoever had rugby-tackled her went toppling down the steps together. They eventually came to a stop as they reached the landing, halfway down the flight of stairs and Circe was completely smothered in a huge black cape, unable to see anything.
"WHAT IN THE BLUE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!" a voice also muffled by the tangle of clothes shouted.
Circe had the cloth yanked from her head and light came back to her in a blinding flash. In the fall, she'd managed to nestle herself quite nicely in his lap, her back pressed against his chest.
Severus… of course it was Severus.. She thought as she gazed over her shoulder at him.
His eyes were furious but his expression softened as he felt her nearness, holding her in his arms.
"Severus… I need help." she said quietly as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"What the bloody hell was going through your head, you idiot girl?" he said gently.
It had meant to come out of his mouth as an insult, but he somehow found himself wiping her tear away with his thumb.
"More like what wasn't going through my head..."
"Your forgetfulness?"
Circe nodded. "Could you take me to Dumbledore's office? I'll wait for him in there until the challenge is over. Put a message on my hand, write it across my forehead if you must…."
"Write what?"
"That I'm starting to forget larger and larger chunks of time. And whatever he had planned when he asked for my memories, he needs to do it now. Before I forget my own bloody name…"
Status Power Mingguan
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