Solitude was Snape's solace and his prison. As much as he might enjoy it, as much as he might need it the way he needed air to breathe, it left him far too much time with his own thoughts, and it was a relief when the staff and students began to return, even when the they filled the castle with their noise and trouble.

Sometimes over the Christmas holiday, when he was sitting by the fire in his room, his thoughts would turn to Professor Sinistra, about what it would be like to spend an evening with her. They'd go up to the Astronomy Tower and look at the constellations perhaps, or go for a walk around the lake and make conversation. She'd have all kinds of interesting things to say, he was sure of that.

The first morning of the new term he washed and put on his teacher's robes and strode down the corridors to breakfast, taking his place at the staff table. Professor Sinistra was sitting a few seats down from him, dressed in forest green robes and chatting with Professor Vector. He scanned the house tables as he always did, eyes settling on a shock of bright red hair at the Gryffindor table. The younger Weasley boy had become something of a Quidditch celebrity, and Snape had far too much experience with those sorts to do anything but watch him closely for signs of trouble. He was chatting animatedly with his friends and after awhile Snape turned back to his sausages.

He had a free period after lunch, and after a morning full of having to endure his student's shoddy potion-making he looked forward pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting in front of the fire, but when he walked into the staff room it was to find a tall woman in green sitting in an old armchair. He didn't feel any excitement, any fluttering in his stomach or other such thing, but he liked that she looked up at him as he poured himself some tea and sat down. He hoped she'd somehow forgotten about Hagrid's party.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," she greeted him, smiling a little.

"Hello, Professor Sinistra," he said, cringing inwardly at how stiff he sounded.

If she noticed, she didn't show it. "How was your holiday?"

There was warmth in her eyes and her voice, but it was that of a colleague, and he held himself rigidly, with his back straight, not quite relaxing.

"It was pleasant enough," he said, lying through his teeth and regretting it a little. "And yours?"

"I had a wonderful time. I haven't had many opportunities to see my family since I started here, you know, so it was good to spend time with them."

"I suppose it would be," said Snape, but it wasn't really something he could relate to, and he wasn't sure what to say about it. There was a silence, but it was a comfortable enough one, the fire crackling in front of them. She took a long sip of her tea.

"This is one of the perks of teaching at night," she said, holding up her cup a little. "I never did like getting up early." She looked over at him and gave him a smile, and he saw something in her eyes, a sort of mirth behind the intelligence, and yet he coudn't quite bring himself to smile as warmly as she did.

"I can't say I blame you," he said. "I'd much prefer to teach at night myself."

"How long have you been teaching then?"

"This is my fifth year."

She raised her eyebrows, looking impressed, which pleased him a little, and he was tempted to tell her that he had, in fact, been one of the youngest professors ever hired. But before he could, she said something completely unexpected.

"Did you always know you wanted to come back here and teach?"

He looked away from her a second, tapping his fingers on his tea mug, not really sure how to answer. "I suppose I did," he said quietly.

"How nice for you then, to be teaching here," she said, but he barely heard her, just nodded absently and stared back at the fire, those first twinges of discontentment hardening into agitation. He knew, now, that the whole thing had just been a distraction, an idle daydream. He could never tell her what had happened, what he had done, who he really was underneath. The whole idea was horrifying.

He took a long drink of his tea and they sat quietly until Professor Sinistra took one last long drink and set down her cup. "Well," she said, "I suppose I'd better mark some essays. It was good seeing you." She gave him one of her gracious smiles and left. He stayed and stared at the fire a long time.

He retired to his room right after dinner that night, but after he'd read through several chapters of his book he realized he couldn't remember a single word. He got up and started pacing the room but it seemed too small for him. Pulling his teacher's robes over his nightshirt, he left the room and made his way upstairs, not really giving much thought to where he was going.

He was walking through the Entrance Hall when he saw a flash of colour against the stone and he looked up to see Dumbledore, in a bright blue dressing gown embroidered with silver moons and constellations and a matching nightcap. He was reminded unpleasantly of Professor Sinistra, though he doubted she would walk around the castle wearing fuzzy slippers shaped like Puffskeins.

"This is a pleasant surprise, Severus," he said in a cheerful way. "I was just headed to the kitchens for a cup of hot chocolate. Why don't you join me?"

This sounded like a terrible idea to Snape but he went anyway, falling into step beside the Headmaster and they made their way down the basement steps and down the corridor, walking until they reached a painting of fruit. Dumbledore stopped to tickle a pear and Snape supposed this must be the entrance to the kitchens, though he'd never been there.

It was a large room, as large as the Great Hall above it, and brightly lit, with ovens along one wall and copper pots hanging from hooks and four long tables in the centre. Late as it was, the place was teeming with elves, who were wiping down dishes and tables and ovens. One of them came up to Dumbledore with a steaming mug and gave him a deep bow when he'd taken it. "Anything else I can gets for you sir?" he asked rather croakily.

"Thank you Pitts," said Dumbledore. "Would you be so kind as to get a mug for Professor Snape?" The elf hurried away and Dumbledore watched him a moment.

"Fascinating creatures, house-elves," he said, sounding positively delighted. "So simple at first glance, and yet I find them to be possessed of uniquely powerful magic."

Snape found them annoying and obsequious and said nothing.

Th elf had returned with another mug and Snape took it reluctantly, but those first sips warmed him a little. As he lowered the mug he thought he heard a noise behind him and he turned around he was surprised to see McGonagall, in a tartan dressing gown and hairnet, looking taken aback at having found them there.

"Another pleasant surprise," said Dumbledore. "What brings you here at this late hour, Minerva?" But his question was answered for him when an elf came bobbing over with a dish of what looked like an enormous three-layer chocolate cake drenched in caramel sauce. McGonagall murmured something to the elf and stood there with the dish in her hand, a bit red in the face.

Dumbledore looked at her a moment, and Snape thought the corners of his mouth twitched. "That looks simply delicious," he said. "Pitts, would you be so kind as to bring two more dishes of that?" McGonagall gave him a small smile and started eating.

The elf left and in a few minutes later had returned with two more dishes. The three of them ate in silence awhile, Dumbledore and Snape standing beside a work table where they'd set their hot chocolate.

"I'm surprised not to have run into you here before, Minerva, if you come here often enough for the elves to know your cake preferences," said Dumbledore after awhile.

"I don't come here every night, if that's what you think, Albus," McGonagall shot back in a dignified way, a bit of chocolate stuck to her left cheek.

"How often do you come here, if I might ask?"

McGonagall blushed again. "Two or three times a week." She'd said it rather grudgingly but the corners of her mouth had turned up a little.

Snape noticed the easy familiarity between the two of them and couldn't help but feel he was intruding on something, that he wasn't supposed to be there. He took a long drink of hot chocolate, perhaps a little too loudly, because McGonagall looked over at him as if just noticing him for the first time.

"I'm surprised to see you here Severus," she said, scooping up some caramel with her fork. There was quite a lot of chocolate around her mouth now. "What brings you here at this hour?"

He had no idea how to answer this, but Dumbledore spoke for him. "Oh, he's here for the same reason we are, Minerva." His tone was light but he was giving Snape one of his piercing looks, and it occured to Snape that it was no accident, really, that they had all wandered out of their beds at this hour.

Perhaps McGonagall understood too, because Snape thought she was giving him a rather scrutinizing look. But to his relief she turned back to her cake, eating the last few forkfuls. Dumbledore made a discreet motion towards his face and McGonagall hastily wiped the chocolate away with a handkerchief.

"Well," she said, setting her dish down, "I suppose I'd better be going. I have a N.E.W.T class to teach in the morning." But she made no motion to leave.

"How are your N.E.W.T students getting along?" Dumbledore asked her.

"I find them to be a dedicated group of students, for the most part." She looked over at Snape. "A few of your Slytherins have a pronounced aptitude for the subject."

Snape was pleased to hear it. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. Our reputation for excellence didn't come out of nowhere."

"I suppose it doesn't hurt that your house has fewer scruples than the rest of the school," McGonagall shot back. Perhaps it was the vast quanitities of sugar he'd just eaten, or the fact that Slytherin had won the House Championship the last three out of four years, but he found her comment more amusing than annoying.

"I suppose it doesn't help that your house has the lion's share of the troublemakers," he said. He could have sworn the corners of her mouth twitched a little.

"Ah well," Dumbledore spoke up, sounding amused, "we are all partial to our own houses, as much as we pretend not to be." He looked at Snape as he said this, knowing perfectly well that Snape never pretended to be anything but partial to his own house.

Dumbledore set down his dish. "Well, I suppose I ought to turn in myself, I have a full day of meetings tomorrow. Minerva, Severus," he said, nodding to each.

"Goodnight Albus," McGonagall said pleasantly, as Snape murmured, "Good night."

When Dumbledore had left, McGonagall flicked her wand and a bottle and two glasses appeared. "Care for some more Glendronach?"

All that sugar must have been going to Snape's head. He nearly smiled at this. "Certainly."

McGonagall poured them each a glass and raised her own. "To Hogwarts," she said. Snape murmured the same, and they each took a long drink.

They stood and chatted about their classes and their students awhile, until McGonagall started to get red in the face.

"So how has the new term been really?" she said. "You don't have to hold anything back from me."

"Awful," said Snape. "Three different students melted their cauldron's today, and one of them exploded."

"You should see some of the nonsense they get up to in my class. Just today one of the students thought he'd be clever and try to Vanish all the essays when I wasn't looking."

"I hope you gave him a week's worth of detentions."

"Just one, but I docked off twenty house points."

Snape raised an eyebrow at her over his glass. "I hope it wasn't a Slytherin."

McGonagall gave him a wry smile. "It was Hufflepuff, actually."

"I don't suppose it really matters then, it's not like they're ever going to win the House cup anyway."

McGonagall snorted. "Load of numpties," she said, and Snape's mouth twitched. "Speaking of Houses," said McGonagall, "How do you find being Head of House?"

"Also awful."

McGonagall smiled again. "Have any of your students come in for the talk?"

Snape just stared at her until the comprehension spread through him like some horrifying slow-acting venom. "You mean...?"

"You'd be surprised at how many students come here not knowing a thing. And the Ministry pamphlets are useless, I had Madam Pomfrey make her own." She gave him a sharp look. "I could give you some if you'd like."

"I suppose," said Snape.

They each took a deep drink. "How about some more of that cake?" said McGonagall.

Snape nodded, and they ate and drank until Snape was light-headed. Sweet Merlin that was some good cake.

"You know," said McGonagall, her voice loose and husky and her accent rather thicker, "You always were one of my brightest students." She looked at him a long time, and Snape thought her eyes were getting bright. "I'm glad you came back here to teach."

Snape felt warm all over and before he knew what was happening the words were just flowing out of his mouth. "You were my favourite teacher."

"Was I?" McGonagall looked at him so long Snape was terrified she was going to hug him. He backed away a little.

Whether it was because she took the hint or because she wasn't drunk enough yet to betray her usual dignity, she kept her arms at her sides.

"Well," she said, setting down her cake dish and wiping her mouth on her sleeve, "We should do this again Severus."

She gave him another long look and turned to leave.

"Minerva."

She turned to face him.

"Don't tell anybody about this."

The corners of her mouth twitched. "I won't. Goodnight, Severus."

Snape finished his cake and walked back to his room, nearly losing his balance on the way and wondering just how many embarrassing anecdotes the staff would have to blackmail him with.


Professor McGonagall was standing in front of the blackboard, droning on about something, Graihagh didn't really know what. Transfiguration had never been her best subject, and her head was too full of powerful spells and plans she and Thorfinn and Milo made to pay any attention. She scooped up the mouse in her hand and held it in front of her face, stroking its back with the tip of her thumb.

"...and so the Vanishment of verterbrates presents a much greater challenge than that of invertebrates. Now, if we use the following formula," McGonagall was saying, flicking her wand at the blackboard where some writing appeared, "taking into account the complexity of the-Miss Corlett, will you stop playing with that mouse and pay attention?"

A few people laughed. Graihagh looked up and felt McGonagall's razor-sharp gaze jabbing into her.

"Sorry," she muttered, setting the mouse down and trying to act like she was listening. She took a few slapdash notes, and as soon as the bell rang she stuffed her things into her bag and went to lunch.

Thorfinn and Milo caught her eye, and as soon as she was done eating she followed them to an empty classroom deep in the dungeons, the one they usually practiced in. She knew Snape would probably still be eating, and there were no prefects roaming the dungeons over the lunch hour.

"I thought we'd work on these some more," said Thorfinn, holding up the old book full of curses. He gave Graihagh a sideways look. "If you don't have a problem with it."

She looked straight back at him. "I don't. But isn't this a bit risky?"

Thorfinn flicked his wand at the door. "There. I've put an Imperturbable Charm on it, happy?"

Graihagh nodded, and Thorfinn looked at Milo, who transfigured some quills and turned them into grasshoppers again. His face was set, serious, but Graihagh thought she saw something in his eyes, like he was remembering something he didn't want to.

"I thought we'd start with the Cruciatus Curse again," said Thorfinn, looking straight at Graihagh, trying to get a rise out of her, she knew.

He raised his wand and pointed it at the grasshopper. "Crucio!"

Graihagh couldn't look at it. She stared at the opposite wall, where there was a trickle of water coming from somewhere and moss growing on the dark stone walls. She remembered the waterfall at Dhoon Glen, and how when she was seven she slipped on one of the rocks and broke her wrist. The pain was so bad she nearly passed out.

Milo tapped her arm. "Want to have a go?"

Graihagh lifted her wand, hand shaking, then lowered it again. "Do we really need to learn this?"

Thorfinn let out an impatient huff of air but Milo's voice was earnest, reassuring. "Like my dad said, the Ministry used it all the time during the war. It probably saved some of their lives."

Graihagh lifted her wand again.

"Just close your eyes," said Milo. "Imagine a deadly enemy or something. That always works for me."

Graihagh squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the reluctant words out of her mouth through sheer force of will. "Crucio!"

She knew it had worked because Thorfinn was laughing. She opened her eyes and shoved her wand back in her pocket and sat down, breathing hard.

"Aren't you going to have another go?" said Thorfinn.

"No."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Milo cut him off. "Just leave her alone."

Graihagh gave him a grateful look. He hardly ever spoke that way to Thorfinn, or anyone.

They practiced awhile longer, then stowed their wands back in their pockets. Graihagh was tense and shaky and yet some small part of her was thrumming with the power of her spells. She didn't feel invincible, exactly, but something close to it. Like she could take on just about anyone.

"I was thinking," said Milo, hand still in his pocket. "I'd like a safer place to keep this-" He pulled the box they'd found in London partway out so the top was showing. "I can't really carry it with me all the time and I don't like just leaving it in my trunk."

"I know a place," said Thorfinn. "Up on the seventh floor. I'll show you."

They followed him to the Entrance Hall and up marble staircase, until they reached an empty stretch of a seventh-floor corridor, bare except for an absurd tapestry along one wall.

"You walk past it three times, and it'll turn into whatever you need," said Thorfinn. He smirked at them. "So if you two ever need a bit of privacy-"

"Just shut up and show us the room Thorfinn," said Graihagh. Milo shot her a small smile and Thorfinn started walking.

Just as he'd said, after his third walk past a small door appeared in the stone wall. Thorfinn pulled it open for them.

Graihagh's mouth opened a little as she stared up at the high ceilings filled with things she'd never even imagined, but what struck her was the profound stillness of the place, as deep and high as the room itself, as though all the things inside it were holding their breath, watching them.

"This is mighty," she whispered.

Thorfinn gave her a bemused look. "What?"

"Just something we say back in Mann. Brilliant, to you."

"Yeah, well. I've had to hide a few things in here. I don't think many people know about it, so you should be alright."

Milo began to walk among the rows of objects, sometimes stopping to examine an empty shelf or a box, looking, she knew, for a place where it would be well-hidden but easy enough to remember.

Graihagh stopped to examine a bottle of greenish gold potion, and she'd just set it down when she saw the mirror.

She gasped out loud. Her reflection was there, standing beside her dad and her granny, something gold clutched in her hand, but there was someone else with them, the same dark-haired woman who'd come out of the cupboard all those years ago. She was as tall as Graihagh was, with the same thin face, and she was dressed in a smart-looking suit and had an arm around her. Graihagh stepped closer and saw that the gold thing she was clutching was an Order of Merlin, but she couldn't stop looking at her mother and she didn't know why. She hated her.

"Graihagh?"

Graihagh whipped around and saw Milo standing there. "We'd better get going, we're probably late for class."

Graihagh followed him without another look at her mother, but she couldn't focus on a thing Professor Flitwick was saying, and left for break without having taken any notes. All she could think about was that stupid mirror. She didn't understand why she kept seeing these things.

"That girl you hang round with," said Thorfinn, as they walked out into the courtyard, cutting across Graihagh's thoughts. "Is she a Mudblood?"

Graihagh bristled. She wasn't about to let anyone criticize Cate. "Don't you dare call her that. And I don't see how it's any of your business."

"It is my business. You know you can't trust them."

"You thought I was Muggle-born for awhile."

"Yeah, but you're not, are you?"

Graihagh didn't know what to say to this. She glanced at Milo, thinking maybe he'd back her up, but he had his hands in his pockets and wasn't looking at her. "Maybe he's got a point," he said. "You know all the horrible things they did to us."

Graihagh knew he was remembering the books they'd read over the summer. "I know, but that was a long time ago wasn't it? Cate's different."

"How do you know?" said Thorfinn.

"Because she just is. Now will you drop it please?" She glanced at Milo, hoping maybe say something, but he just stared ahead and Graihagh's stomach dropped. He was standing right in front of her but he seemed as far away as if she were looking at him through the wrong end of a telescope. As though if she reached out and touched them he wouldn't be there.

"I don't think you should spend so much time with her," said Thorfinn.

Graihagh didn't say anything to this, just kept walking and watching Milo, wondering what to say. They'd just met up with a few of their other friends when someone slammed into Milo's shoulder as he walked past.

"Sorry, didn't see you," he said, but his smirk told Graihagh he knew perfectly well what he'd just done. Milo flushed red.

Everything she'd been holding in that day came rushing out of her like a broken sea wall and her face burned hot and she pulled her wand out of her robes. "Petrificus Totalus!"

The boy fell to the ground and Graihagh stood over him, her shadow over his face. She could do whatever she wanted to him now. "Don't you ever touch him again. Pungent!"

The boy cried out as he clutched at his swollen face.

"What is going on here?"

Graihagh looked up to see Theodora Marchbanks striding towards her, a prefect badge on her chest. She looked down at the boy and back at Graihagh with wide indignant eyes. "Did you just using a stinging hex?"

Graihagh lowered her wand, breathing hard, and Theodora's eyes darkened. "Ten points from Slytherin. And be grateful I don't tell Professor Snape about this."

"He'd probably just tell you to mind your own fucking business," Graihagh shot back. "But you just can't help yourself, can you?"

"Graihagh!"

Graihagh turned away from Theodora's face to see Cate standing there, mouth open in shock. Graihagh glanced back at the boy, who was being helped to his feet by Theodora, and back at Cate, and her eyes shocked her back into reality as realization of what she'd done crashed over her. She wished the courtyard would open up and swallow her. She walked into the grounds and slumped down against a large stone, head in her hands, breathing hard, Cate following behind her.

"I didn't mean that. I didn't mean any of that. You believe me, don't you?"

Cate didn't say anything to this for awhile, and Graihagh wondered if she was going to walk away.

"I believe you," she said as she sat down beside her. "I mean, you were a massive twat back there but I don't think that's really who you are."

Graihagh drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on her arms. "I don't know who I really am."

Cate put a hand to her shoulder and when Graihagh turned to look at her Cate was looking her straight in the eye.

"I know who you are."

She looked so sure of what she was saying. Graihagh just stared back at her.

The bell rang and Graihagh straightened out her legs and started to push herself up, but Cate put a hand to her shoulder. "Want to stay here with me?"

"Don't you have class?"

"It's just Transfiguration, and I haven't got a clue what McGonagall is on about anymore," she said. Graihagh gave a little half-smile at this.

"And it's not like we're ever going to use it, you know?" Cate went on, relieved, Graihagh knew, that she'd brightened some. "I mean, does anyone seriously look at their pet ferret and say, yeah, well, he's cute but I really need a pocketbook, so..."

"Or look at their kitten and decide to Vanish it."

"I still think that's messed up. McGonagall said we're going to start Vanishing kittens soon, I think I'm just going to make myself sick so I don't have to go." She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a bag of Every-Flavour Beans. "Want some?"

Graihagh sifted through the sweets with her fingers, careful to avoid any nasty-looking ones.

They chewed in silence awhile, wrapping their cloaks more tightly to avoid the icy wind and pressing their hands together to warm them.

"We're going to have to do career consultations soon," said Cate through a mouthful of beans. "Do you know what you're going to pick?"

"Potioneering, probably. What about you?"

Cate put her hands underneath her and rocked back and forth a little, probably not aware that she was doing it. "Well, I don't think I'm good enough to be an actual musician or anything. But I want to do something with music. Flitwick said once that it has its own healing magic."

"That makes sense," said Graihagh, remembering a beautiful old sea invocation she'd heard once, a song to Manannan, the guardian of the sea, to keep the men safe when they went out to the fishing. There was magic in that song, she'd felt it.

"You'd be great at it you know," she said, but she wasn't sure Cate heard her. She was holding a bean up in front of her eyes and examining it like it was a specimen in Herbology.

"I wonder how they get all those flavours so accurate," she murmured. She popped it into her mouth and looked at her closely. "So how are you, really? You don't have to hide anything from me."

"I don't know."

"So not good then?"

Graihagh glanced at her, then looked out across the grounds. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"How long have you known me now? Do you even have to ask?"

Graihagh let out a little self-deprecating breath, because of course she didn't. She stared out over the grounds, and Cate waited for her to speak.

"My mum was a heroin addict. That's why she left."

Cate looked shocked. "But she was a witch, wasn't she? So how did that happen?"

"I don't know."

Cate put a hand to her back. "I'm sorry."

Graihagh shrugged. "I think she was sort of awful, if you want the truth."

"What do you mean?"

Graihagh glanced down and played with the folds of her robes. "I've been finding records of her punishments during my detentions. She used to hex people all the time and..."

"What? What's wrong?"

The realization slammed into her like she'd walked into a solid wall. She'd just used the same fucking hexes. Like they'd been lurking in her subconscious just waiting to fly out of her mouth.

"Nothing."

Cate put an arm around her. "You're not her though, you know that."

"Yeah, I know," said Graihagh.

But she didn't really believe it.


A/N: All opinions expressed by the characters are their own and don't reflect the views of the author, who loves Hufflepuff and does not think they're a load of numpties :)