Chương 37: Chapter 37: "And I thank the lord that there's people out there like you."
Notes:
AN: So, fun fact. This chapter is the first chapter I EVER wrote for this fic. I never dreamt when I wrote this scene that It would eventually spawn a 150+k story... Enjoy, my love
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Circe looked herself up and down in the mirror. The dress Remus had sent to her was stunning. It was a pale blue, floor length gown with a decidedly grecian twist. It hung off her shoulders and exposed the light skin at her neck and when she walked it seemed to float behind her like wisps of delicate moonlight. She guessed that it was probably cut from chiffon, and it draped deliciously around her breasts and down her body, cinched tight around the waist and cut high to her upper thigh. Along the bodice and down her hip, the dress was decorated with a number of pale pink and claret coloured flowers, all a wonderful variety of shapes, sizes and types: cherry blossom, roses, daisies, dahlias. The vines and branches seemed to cling to her body like she were a statue of a maenad, overgrown with nature in a crumbling minoan palace. Circe finished with the sleeves again, positioning them to hang just right around her shoulders and drape the remaining fabric just right behind her. She wondered now whether it was too much. Most of the other professors seemed to be putting in a bit of an effort, but nothing too major.
She glanced down at the note Remus had sent back with the dress:
"Dear Circe,
Tonks did have to come with me. She convinced me not to buy this "hideous red thing", which I rather liked. But she was quick to instruct me what the difference was between "fuck me" and "fuck me" types of dresses.
Thanks for the wolfsbane too. Just a small request though. Less wild garlic next time you're making it, please. It rather stinks out the fridge in the shared kitchen and a few of the guest lecturers have complained…
Remus"
Too much or too little, again. Circe thought with a smile. Severus would make it perfectly without even thinking about it.
She wondered what Severus was doing in these moments before the ball. What special ways he was preparing himself or what plans he was concocting. Would he be combing his hair or wearing the traditional dress robes that some wizards opted for? Severus always dressed formally, would he do anything different at all? She sat at her vanity table and tried to clear her head of him as she made the last adjustments to her hair and makeup. She looked at herself, without her usual glasses, her hair tied up with a few strands of curls allowed to fall free about her neck, and for a moment she wondered whether she'd have made this much effort if she knew Severus was not going to be present. A knock came at the door and she replied with a "come in!".
Mcgonagall swept into Circe's bedroom and gasped a little. "Oh, look at you! Gosh it makes me wish I was young once more."
"Is it too much, Minerva?"
"Not at all! What is life for if not to get dressed up and feel beautiful when the occasion calls for it?"
Circe smiled and placed her simple diamond studs in her ears. "Thank you." she said to Minerva's reflection behind her.
The older woman smiled, leaning her head on the bedroom door, and picturing a time when she herself would have dressed herself up this nicely for a boy back in Caithness.
"Oh.." Minerva remembered with a start. "Your friends are here, Circe."
"Already?"
"Indeed, I sent them to the Great Hall to begin their… their…"
"Sound check."
"Quite."
Dumbledore himself had asked Circe if The Weird Sisters would consider playing at the Yule Ball, being the band that most of the young people had asked for. Perhaps the kids were playing a joke on Circe, or perhaps they just weren't aware that she was one of the guitarists, but either way, she'd asked another one of hers and Myron's mutual, musically inclined friends to come along for the evening too. She knew Myron would pitch a fit when she told him she didn't want to play tonight. There was something about being on stage in front of children she taught, children she had to discipline and mark homework for, children who she'd deducted house points from when she'd caught them having a cheeky snog in the corridors, it just didn't seem right for her to go all rock and roll in front of them. Circe rose up from her vanity table, preparing herself to break the news to Myron sooner rather than later.
She thanked Minerva and left her rooms, covering her arms with a small shawl to protect her from the cold. It was December, almost Christmas, and it was due to be another interesting holiday at Hogwarts. Most of the students were departing for home tomorrow, Christmas Eve. Circe however, had opted to stay at the castle for this bout of holiday. She hadn't had a Christmas at Hogwarts since her first year and many of the overseas students had opted to stay in Britain for the two week break, and many of their English sweethearts had also opted to stay behind with them. It was, for once, going to be a busy Hogwarts Christmas and Circe couldn't wait.
As she walked down to the Great Hall, she saw that it was snowing again. It had been snowing when her Dad and Jane had come up a few weeks ago, and they'd loved the small tour of Cullodden Circe had given them when she'd gone to meet them for the day. They'd warmed up after the tour of the white-coated battlefield by the fire of a pub as Matthew had gotten stuck into some local whiskeys whilst Jane showed Circe the purchases she'd made in the giftshop. It had been good to see her Dad again. And Matthew too was reassured that Circe seemed a little more put-together than the last time he'd waved her goodbye on Sand Bay.
Circe paused by a glassless window and watched the gently falling snow settling over the Hogwarts grounds. She watched as a group of young Hufflepuff girls ran back to their dormitories with parcels under their arms. They talked animatedly about the dresses they'd just received from their owls, giggling and discussing their 'dates' as the snow settled on their hair. She smiled to herself, thinking back to a time when she too had primped and prepared herself for the Yule Ball in Paris.
She almost moved to leave, when she spied Neville at the other end of the courtyard she was spying on, waltzing to and fro, practising his dance moves. Minerva had told her of the dancing lesson she'd given to the Gryffindors, and Circe chided herself for missing the opportunity to watch Severus at his dancing lesson with the Slytherins. She drew back from the window, wondering what he would have been like in that moment. She straightened her back and looked down her nose in that Severus-esque way, and slowed her voice into his luxurious, steady drawl.
"Quiet!" She shouted, to an empty corridor. "Now I would like to make one thing abundantly clear: this is a complete waste of time. But...Miss Parkinson, if you would…" she acted, doing her best Snape impression, extending her hand out to the empty air.
"Now, ladies, at some point in the night you will inevitably be approached by one of these testosterone ticking time bombs. In which case he should have the etiquette… to bow."
She bowed to no one, stiff backed and awkward as Severus did.
"And then you accept. Thank you, Miss Parkinson."
She raised her arms, as if beginning the waltzing position with an invisible partner.
"Hands on my shoulders, not my waist Miss Parkinson…."
She rolled her eyes, fully into her Severus impression.
"And we begin…"
Circe began waltzing with her invisible partner down the corridor, just as Neville did in the courtyard below.
"Oh, Professor, a woman such as you should never be waltzing alone." Said a heavily accented voice behind her.
She gasped, turning around to see Karkaroff in a clean-white set of Ball robes, lined with soft chinchilla fur. She blushed, a little embarrassed she'd been caught in her play-acting.
"Headmaster…" she muttered, not sure where to look. "Do excuse me, I need to see to my-"
"Oh those young men in the Great Hall are your acquaintances, are they?"
"Tonight's entertainment." She nodded. "After the dancing, of course." She said with a smirk.
Karkaroff laughed at her back as she hurried away, eager to escape her embarrassment.
Myron and the others were pretty much set up by the time she arrived at the Hall. He seemed to be in conversation with the other guitarist Circe had asked to the school: a bushy-bearded bloke with red round sunglasses. Myron looked up at her as she strode over and called out:
"'Ere, Cee. This geezer seems to think he's playing tonight with us." Myron said pointing at bushy-beard.
"He is. I'm… I'm not." She said sheepishly, gesturing broadly at her dress.
Myron was left a little lost for words.
Circe leaned over to the other guitarist, "Thanks for coming Ali, have you all set up?"
"Just need to tune and get my amp plugged in." He responded, smiling broadly and walking away to busy himself with the various wires and plugs onstage.
"Cee, what the fuck?" Myron asked. "Why aren't you playing with us?"
"I can't, Myron! Not in front of my kids, I'd die of embarrassment. Not to mention the respect I'd lose…"
"What are you on about? You've been playing with me all across the country, any of them could have been in the crowd."
"Yeah but, that can't be helped… If I play with you tonight it'd be like I'm… fishing for "cool points"." She replied, inadvertently rewording one of Severus's attempts at an insult. It hadn't hurt her so much at the time, but it was still something from their confrontation in the rain that had stuck with her.
"You sure you don't just wanna tart yourself up to impress what's-his-face? The long-nosed git that you're still fawning over…" Myron said spitefully.
"Myron!"
"You should have told me, Cee. Perhaps I would have reconsidered performing here if you'd said playing with us would have made you "die of embarrassment"."
"Myron, it's not like that. You know what I mean. This is my job, my real job."
"And this is mine! It always has been, Cee!"
Circe had no reply. Myron sighed and looked to the floor exasperatedly.
"Alright… alright…" he sighed, glancing back up to Ali, as he waved back, guitar in hands. "Does he even know our stuff?"
"I sent him our set three weeks ago."
Myron nodded. Turning to make the last adjustments to the setup before waiting in the Staff Room for the formal dances to finish. Circe too turned to leave.
"Oh, Cee…" Myron called after her. "You look nice."
Circe smiled apologetically at Myron, and he winked back.
------
Severus had been unlucky enough to run into Karkaroff as he was patrolling the grounds, looking for any students trying to sneak in a quick romantic snogging session before the Ball began. Igor had been going to him in increasingly worried states, hoiking up his sleeves and showing Severus his ever increasingly throbbing Dark Mark. The man was convinced that it seemed to be growing darker with each passing day. Severus wanted to dismiss his claims, pretend like the Bulgarian was just a raving, paranoid lunatic. But each time he glanced down at his own skin, the tattoo seemed to stand out with increasing clarity, the skull's sockets growing darker, the snake wriggling back to life. That afternoon, he'd been quite alone, bathing before he dressed for the Ball, and he found he could not take his eyes off it. Forever marked, forever tainted by his mistake. He wished he could cut it out of his skin, burn it away. Perhaps Karkaroff then would stop badgering him.
"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening! It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, even you can't deny it-"
"Then flee, Igor! Flee if you must." he replied rather shortly as they walked together through the snow-covered courtyards. "I'll make your excuses for you, but I'm staying here at Hogwarts. There are people here who need me."
"Don't be a fool, Severus. Your life is as good as gone, just like mine if the Dark Lord were to rise again."
"Indeed, thanks in part to your confessions to the Wizengamot." he mumbled, casting Karkaroff a bitter look.
"I did what I had to in order to save myself from a lifetime in Azkaban. You would have done the same."
"You think so, do you? And here you are, talking of running now you are faced with the possibility of dealing with the Dark Lord's retribution. Panicking like a pig in a butchers. I am not so cowardly as to run from my previous decisions."
"I wish to run not just because of my own cowardice, Severus." Igor hissed, grabbing the Potion's Master's sleeve. "But for my wife too. And my daughter, back home in Bulgaria. Do you think the Dark Lord will spare them? Of course not! Just like he will refuse to spare that pretty English thing who is in love with you."
Severus tugged his arm free of Karkaroff and sneered at him. "You know nothing, Karkaroff. Nothing!"
He strode back into the castle, his heart beating unsteadily in his chest. Something that Karkaroff had said had finally reached him, but he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. He took a few deep breaths, forcing his mind to clear of thoughts of his Dark Mark or Voldemort, pushing it all aside for tonight. Most of the students were beginning to coalesce in the Great Hall now, dressed in their finest and brightest. The girls wearing their dresses like natural duchesses and the boys in their finest dress robes. He smoothed down the tails of his own dress jacket and walked into the Hall. The room had been dressed up to look rather spectacular: the ceiling was enchanted to emanate softly falling snow that seemed to shimmer and sparkle like glitter, the main dance floor was clear for now, a few elaborately decorated tables and chairs around its perimeter, the wall draped with delicate and diaphanous blue silk hangings. And Dumbledore too had outdone himself on the nibbles: high-rising towers of precariously leaning profiteroles, flowing chocolate fountains of milk, dark and white bejewelled with plates and plates of sumptuous looking fruits, and at the center of the food-table was a four foot high ice sculpture of St Basil's Cathedral. Severus looked around the room at the faces of those gathered, nodding curtly at a few of his Slytherin students as they waited for the entrance of the champions. Severus walked over to Minerva and Dumbledore, in their little staff corner and folded his arms impatiently.
"How long until commencement?" he asked.
"Oh, Circe will give us the signal once all of the champions and their partners are gathered outside." Minerva replied as she eyed up Severus from head to toe. "New jacket, Severus?"
Severus looked back at her with a scowl, deciding not to respond.
He wasn't left waiting long for her. A few moments later, the doors to the Great Hall crept open and from in between the crack in the doors slid Circe. Severus was left almost completely breathless as he saw her for the first time that night.
She looks like a Greek nymph. One of those lesser-goddesses of ancient times that tempted those men worthy enough to know them to their beds.
The gathered children parted around her as she made her way through the crowd, her dress floated as delicately as the falling snow in the enchanted roof above them, her eyes brighter than any of the glitter or adornments in the room. Severus realised how infantile and immature many of the girls that night looked, playing dress-up in their adult clothes for the evening. Circe was a woman, an achingly beautiful, divinely exquisite, woman. Circe caught him in his staring, and he was too captivated by her to even attempt to look away. She smiled at him as she approached and he wished that he could have lived in that exquisite moment, or have kept that image of her in his mind's eye forever; so perfect, so lovely was she.
Minerva eyed up his slack-jawed admiration with a titter, and she motioned to Filch concealed in the wings with Circe's gramophone and an old waltzing piece. The champions entered not long after Circe had taken her place beside the other staff and they watched as Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Krum commenced the waltz. Circe watched with a bright smile as Hermione, normally a little gawkish and ungainly, seemed to dance in Krum's arms as gracefully as a swan. She swelled with pride too as she watched her Cho opposite Cedric waltzing like a natural, but Harry seemed a little unsure on his feet. She giggled slightly as Potter stepped right on poor Parvati's foot. After a smatter of applause, Dumbledore and Minerva were gracing the dance floor and soon they were joined by more brave followers. Circe could tell that Severus's eyes were on her, she could practically feel him scanning his eyes down her neckline.
Ask me to dance, Severus. She begged internally. She watched as Draco led his partner Miss Parkinson onto the floor and imagined again the little scenario she had dreamt up earlier of Severus teaching the Slytherins to waltz. She began to feel a little jealous of Miss Parkinson…
Severus was still stood firmly rooted at Circe's side. A looming, black presence beside her, like a raven on her shoulder.
If Albus and Igor are right… then perhaps it would be nice to have someone to stand beside as the storm rages. Igor married… I didn't know Igor had married. He dared to love, despite what he did.
He was completely unable to stop his hand at his side from twitching with restlessness. It ached to reach out to her, brush her shoulder, take her hand in his and waltz with her, eye to eye, chest to chest, spinning together as one. If he could just be brave enough. Be the un-cowardly man he claimed to be and reach out to her and lead her to the dancefloor as his…
But then Karkaroff was before her, extending a hand out to her.
"A woman such as you should never waltz alone." he repeated to her with a grin. "And I aim to remedy that. Would you care to dance?"
Circe couldn't help but glance back at Severus, but in an instant he cast his eyes evasively to the floor, as if he'd never intended to do anything. She looked back to Karkaroff swiftly and smiled politely, before taking his hand in acceptance. Severus bubbled with jealousy as he watched Circe and Igor glide effortlessly to the rhythm of the waltz, his hand poised on her waist, their fingers intertwined. And thus it went on, song after song, dance after dance. Severus would spend a tense few moments watching her from across the room with agonising yearning and longing, trying desperately to summon up his courage to ask her to dance, and then some other lucky soul would get there before him.
Severus took to sulking for the rest of the waltzes at the staff table. Minerva approached him, slumped in his high-backed chair, watching with a vicious scowl as Circe danced with one of the Durmstrang boys. She cleared her throat and Severus stiffened slightly at her presence as she'd quite snuck up on him.
"You look like a bear with a sore head, Severus." she said a little too jovially for him.
"I am merely bemoaning the utter waste of school funds and efforts this pointless little soiree has been." he responded flatly as she took a seat beside him.
"Oh right, is that why you've not taken your eyes off Circe then all evening?" she asked coquettishly.
As Severus wheeled around to face her in shock, he sighed and slumped further back into his chair.
"Is it really that obvious, Minerva?"
"As plain as the nose on your face… to those who knew to look, of course."
"And how did you know to look?" he asked with an exasperated sigh.
"Peonies and blushed suede perfume, chocolate yule log, and Quidditch pitch mud." she responded simply.
"Oh God..." he grumbled, burying his face in his hands. "Amortentia in that blasted cauldron…"
"Your time is running out to make a move, Severus." the Gryffindor Head of House said reproachfully, she too watching Circe spin like a ballerina, going from one partner to the next.
"Minerva, you don't know the half of it…" Severus grumbled.
The waltz ended and the lights in the Hall dimmed to a low, atmospheric the back of the room, the stage lit up, revealing the set and prepared instruments for The Weird Sisters. The children all began chattering in hushed voices, craning their heads to the stage and muttering their confusions to one another.
"HOGWARTS, ARE YOU READYYYY!?" a shout came from the darkness.
The students rushed forward to the stage front, jostling and clamouring for a place to watch. Then from the pooling dry ice, on walked Myron and the rest of the band. And the room was filled with screams.
"GIMMIE A SHOUT IF YOU'RE READY FOR SOME REAL MUSIC, HOGWARTS!" Myron screamed into his mic stand.
The amassed crowd roared back, all civilised etiquette and poise that they had portrayed during the waltzes instantly gone.
"WE'RE THE WEIRD SISTERS… AND THIS IS 'DO THE HIPPOGRIFF'!"
------
As The Weird Sisters set had wound down, and they'd gone through their third and fourth encores, a few couples of students and teachers still hung relentlessly on, keeping the magical evening going on the dancefloor. Circe had run up to her room and brought back down a few of Remus's old vinyls to play on her gramophone for the slow-dancers. It was ever so sweet, watching them sway in each other's arms to the tunes Circe put on. But eventually, even the last of the couples dissipated and left, off to bed with spinning heads and aching feet, the last of which being Neville and Ginny. Myron and the others had packed up their equipment and instruments in the blink of an eye and they lingered behind in the now empty hall, discussing a post-gig pint down in Hogsmeade before they all headed off home for Christmas. Circe looked at her watch as she waved the other band members goodbye, thanking Ali in particular for stepping up for her tonight. It was gone three o clock in the morning, and she yawned.
Myron approached her cautiously, carrying his guitar case at his side, and laying it on the floor to give Circe one last goodbye hug.
"You were brilliant, mate." Circe said diplomatically. Myron liked praise. "As always."
"Woulda been better if you were up there with us." he grumbled. "So…? Anything happen with Beaky?"
Circe felt oddly emotional, partly from fatigue, partly from Severus's snubbing of her all evening. "Myron, don't call him that."
He rolled his eyes.
"Well, did it?!" he asked again shortly.
She shook her head. "There were times when I thought it might. It felt so close… But no… nothing."
"Then, you move on." Myron said with a sigh.
Circe's eyes clouded over at Myron's seriousness. There were no jokes this time, no banter, just brutal honesty. One friend telling another to sever the thing that they clung to.
"And wait even longer for him to come back?" she asked helplessly, remembering what Myron had said to her at the Quidditch World Cup.
"No, Cee. I think that time has passed. Just move on. He's had plenty of time."
She nodded solemnly, trying to fight back the tears that were springing up in her eyes. She knew Myron was right, but it still hurt nonetheless. Myron gave her a pat on the shoulder and looked at her with pitying eyes.
"Bye Myron." she said, the tiredness in her voice. "Thanks again for tonight."
"No problem, Cee. See you next week." he picked up the last of his cables and his guitar case, striding out of the ballroom.
Circe was left by herself in the deserted room. The glitter of the chandelier still played off the now empty dance floor. She surveyed the empty glasses, half eaten food and leftover chaos of the ball around her. The beautiful ice sculpture of St Basil's Cathedral that had been at the centre of the feast now partially melting. The last of the student's voices and giggles faded away. This would be quite a cleanup operation.
She couldn't face bed. Couldn't face being on her own after what her and Myron had just spoken of. Life after Severus was something that daunted her. An existence that did not, in part, revolve around him. Her mind was burning with questions about her future, all of which she didn't have the stomach to tackle. She missed the music. If she was going to be there all night then she could have some light entertainment. Walking over to the side of the dancefloor, she began toying with Remus's huge conical gramophone again. A big box of his records sat next to it, half open, having already gone through quite a few of them already that evening.
I really should have listened to these sooner. He had much more than just old jazz stuff in here. She thought to herself. Still, at least he left me my entertainment.
She waved her wand and the vinyl sleeves fluttered as she thumbed through the albums. She stopped on one and magically lifted it out of the box and onto the turntable. One more wand flick and the needle was down, playing Elton John.
Snape had just finished ushering the last of the Slytherins back to the common room. He reached the top of the stairs to the dungeons, deciding he'd make one last circle of the Great Hall for any stragglers. He caught the end of a song playing from the ballroom and stopped. His feet moved slowly down the corridor towards the doors of the Great Hall, hearing someone shuffling around inside. This was his mother's favorite album…
"I shall say goodnight, Severus." said a voice at his back.
Mcgonagall startled him, and he wheeled around catching her standing right behind him.
"Who-who's still in the Great Hall?" he asked, just able to contain his surprise.
That woman is everywhere… he thought to himself.
"Professor Smith. She was just seeing the band off, doing a bit of a clean up… on her own..." Mcgonagall laboured on the last words and raised a telling eyebrow.
"Goodnight, Minerva…" Snape replied pointedly.
She gave him one last bow and turned around walking up the corridor.
Snape looked back towards the Great Hall door, briefly catching a glimpse of Circe's blue dress through the small opening as she moved around inside. His heart caught in his throat. He did not consciously tell his feet to move, but before he could think, he was at the door and inside the empty room. Empty of all but her.
The last song came to an end as the needle passed over the grooves and silence fell.
" And now I know
Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say…"
The first gentle notes of 'Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters' started to play as she finally turned around from her busy work and saw him standing in the threshold. She too stopped dead in her tracks and for a brief second, they both just looked at eachother.
"I thought I knew
But now I know that rose trees never grow
In New York City"
"Come to help with the cleanup?" she finally broke the silence.
"I-uh- yes…." he fumbled, moving towards her. "I mean, no."
She looked at him, confused.
"I came to ask you something…Something I've been meaning to ask all night." Severus said, finding his voice.
"Yes?" she asked, rather impatiently.
Having caught him staring quite a few times that night, she was rather annoyed with him. Her words with Myron earlier had confirmed in her mind that she should bitterly abandon any hope of something happening between them. But in the silence that followed her question, she dared to hope. A small, last flicker. Severus's heart thumped in his chest. After a deep sigh, he finally spoke again.
"Would you care to dance?"
The shock was apparent on her face.
He reached out his hand limply and for an electrifying moment the tips of his fingers brushed against her wrist. For an agonising second his hand hung there and every doubt that he had ever thought flashed through his mind in an instant. She knew her voice would fail her, so she just nodded. Her hand fell, almost naturally into the curves of his palm.
"Until you've seen this trash can dream come true
You stand at the edge while people run you through
And I thank the Lord
There's people out there like you
I thank the Lord there's people out there like you…"
His fingers closed around her and he hastily led her to the dancefloor. His nervousness was apparent. Circe felt glad that he had turned away before he caught her blush and she quietly acknowledged actually how glad she was that she didn't have the whole school as an audience for this moment.
They faced each other, hands still locked. Circe felt the breath in her lungs leave her body as he moved close to her, and his other hand slid tentatively around her waist. She forgot how to breathe for a moment. The two of them began to sway to the melody, already seemingly synchronized with each other. The music was perfect and soft and gentle….
"My-er-mother loved Elton."
It was such a shocking phrase to come from Snape's mouth, it temporarily shook Circe from her breathless trance.
"What…? No way…"
"No it's true. Elton John's a half-blood. His Mother was a witch."
"Wow I never knew…" she smiled at him.
I guess it makes sense… You don't wear outfits like that without a touch of magic in you… She thought.
"You told me, when we first met, that you didn't know any music." she said with a small smile.
"Well, I suppose I was slightly hyperbolic in my summation there." he replied, returning her smile. "The more one listens, the more one starts to recognise certain things... A tune here, a song there, a voice elsewhere…"
"Music in memory."
"Indeed. All your fault."
"Of course."
He chuckled, low and steady.
"He was one of the only muggle musicians my mother would listen to. She used to play this song from the kitchen on her battered old radio, and I'd wake up on Sunday mornings to the smell of her making coffee and father-" He stopped himself.
She would have been perfectly happy to let him continue losing himself in his memories, but alas no. It made her realise just how little she actually knew about him.
He cleared his throat. "You look lovely tonight."
That almost turned her legs to jelly beneath her.
"Thank you."
"Like a Nymph-"
That made her brow furrow.
"I-I don't mean like a Nympho... I mean a Nymph. From Greek myth.. You know, because of your dress-"
She couldn't help but laugh as he stumbled over himself. Once he realised he hadn't offended her, he too smiled slightly. A small nervous laugh escaped him.
"I haven't heard you laugh for a long time, Severus."
"Because I lately rarely have cause to." He said flatly.
She felt him tense up, part of his wall rebuilding around him.
No! Don't do that! He thought to himself. Not after you've come this far…
"But you do…" he added hastily. "You make me laugh… and drive me to absolute despair and everything in between." He locked eyes with her, black obsidian meeting a brilliant emerald. "I find myself, quite possibly against my better judgement, being quite captivated by you…"
The comment sat there in the dead space between them. Circe felt light headed, dizzy… and not from the swaying.
"Severus…" was all she could manage.
She was convinced he could feel her heart beating from where he stood.
He looked down at her rosy lips, then back into the green of her eyes.
A strong urge overtook him and he found himself kissing her.
His lips were so soft, and she completely fell apart in his arms. His hand ran up her bare shoulders and to the nape of her neck, setting her goosebumps ablaze. The kisses grew, fiercer and harder. Time stopped, everything stopped until there was nothing but them and 'Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters'.
"While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night"
Until he suddenly pulled away…
Circe felt like a newborn separated from their umbilical cord. She looked questioningly into his face and saw sheer panic. Her brow furrowed and her vision became blurred with tears. She reached out a hand to him as he had done only moments before, but he recoiled.
"I -I'm sorry…" And he was gone, practically fleeing from the ball room. Leaving her sobbing quietly on her own, frozen in place.
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