The next day, Professor Snape returned to Cambridge with Adoxa's notebook tucked carefully inside his coat pocket. As if Mother Nature herself blessed his venture, the sun shone brightly and the day was pleasantly warm. Which, needless to say, meant that Snape wished he was inside with the curtains drawn.


He soon found himself in a more agreeable setting. Entering Curiosities & Muir, around mid-afternoon, Snape was greeted by the quiet hum of a fan and the musty fragrance of old books.


Pacing around the shop, with his hands clasped behind his back, he waited for Adoxa. After a few minutes, having not manifested herself, he walked to the counter and rang the bell.


A frazzled Adoxa, hair covered by a black handkerchief, wearing an apron and white gloves, rushed from the back, calling her apologies.


“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. How may I help you …” She stopped behind the counter, smiling. “Professor! I was not expecting to see you again so soon.”


Snape rummaged awkwardly in his pocket, unnerved by Adoxa's sudden enthusiasm.


“I do apologize for this.” She gestured to her cleaning attire. “I rarely have customers at this hour.”


“Ah - it is I who should apologize. I ought to have called later,” Snape stammered, sensing something terribly off about her present state.


“Please, sit down.” She motioned to a pair of deep, cushioned chairs facing a barren fireplace on the left wall.


“Would you care for a cup of tea?” she asked as Snape settled into his seat, nodding.


“I shall return.” She smiled wildly and disappeared into the back of the shop.


While he waited, Snape examined the shop, admiring the bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes and glass cabinets displaying antique arcana of varying levels of credibility. A table spread with witchcraft books, tarot cards and wispy clothing stood next to a rack of assorted silver jewelry, featuring symbols from many different schools of thought. And on a low end table next to the chair where Snape sat, a large, glass bowl full of colourful, semi-precious stones.


“Magic rocks.” Adoxa shrugged, appearing by his side with a tray of tea service. She nudged the bowl aside and set down the tray, pouring for Snape and then herself.


“Mudbloods love those.” She nodded enthusiastically at the rocks while taking a sip of tea.


Snape cringed at the word. “You speak like some Pure-bloods I have encountered over the years.”


“Do I? Well, I suppose that's because I am. A Pure-blood, I mean. In a roundabout sort of way,” she chattered senselessly. “More tea?”


Snape stared down into his nearly full cup.


“No, thank you.” He hesitated before continuing, “Miss Muir, are you quite alright?”


“Oh yes, quite,” she insisted. “Just a bit frazzled, that's all. I was doing some cleaning up before you arrived.” Her teacup rattled as she spoke.


“Looking for something in particular?” he uttered darkly, meeting her flashing eyes with his own.


“Y … yes,” she stammered.


“Something that might be of interest to your Death Eater friends?” He leaned toward her, unblinking.


Adoxa screamed and her teacup hit the floor, shattering.


“Please! Stop!” she begged. “I don't know where it is!”


Snape leaned forward and grabbed both of Adoxa's trembling hands in his own.


“Miss Muir. Look at me.”


She met his gaze, her black eyes wide with terror.


“Regardless of what you suspect about me, trust this: my presence here is in no way connected to the late night shopping expeditions of a certain pair of Death Eaters.”


Adoxa bit her lip.


“I saw them after I'd left your shop, rather more quickly than I had intended, might I add. I was preparing to Disapparate when they approached. I followed the entire exchange through a gap between the curtains.”


“I've sold them books before,” Adoxa interrupted.


“So I gathered from the conversation.”


“My grandfather had a number of Dark Arts tomes in his collection and I've a fondness for the topic myself.” Looking around the empty room, she added reluctantly, “My shop is struggling and the Dark Lord's supporters pay well.”


Snape noted her choice of words but did not pursue it. Focusing on the matter at hand, he asked, “Which book did they request?”


“Something about … secrets. I'd never heard of it before. I know the collection by heart and searched again this morning. No such title exists.”


“Small miracle that,” Snape thought to himself.


“Forgive me, Professor. I was frightened. I've never disappointed them before. I feared retribution. I thought …”


“Miss Muir,” he spoke firmly, “while I am no longer your instructor or Head of House, I hope that you will heed my warning. Please attempt to conclude your business dealings with any servants of the Dark Lord. These are dangerous times and I do not wish you harm.”


Adoxa exhaled as though the weight of a thousand worlds had been lifted from her narrow shoulders.


“Thank you.” She smiled weakly. “I expect that, although my better judgement failed me, I can defer to yours.”


“Now,” he added dryly, “before another round of erudite eidola come vying for your laudable collection ...”


Adoxa laughed. Like the sweetest refrain of a legion of Veela, singing only for him.


Snape released her hands, which she folded politely in her lap, as he reached into his coat pocket.


“My notebook!” Adoxa gasped, reaching out for it. She held it lovingly, her slim fingers exploring its binding, finding it in tact.


Snape took the opportunity to pull out his wand and attend to the broken teacup as Adoxa relaxed into her chair, paging through the book.


The flutter of paper stopped as the repaired teacup levitated obediently back to the tray.


“Hmm,” Adoxa mused.


“Merlin's Pointy-toed Slippers,” Snape cursed to himself.


“What is this?” Adoxa questioned, unable to conceal her mirth.


His eyes shifting from Adoxa to the door, Snape wished that he had made a graceful exit, sometime shortly after establishing the precise nature of her relations with the Death Eaters. Now, it was too late.


Adoxa opened the folded sheet of parchment as Snape sat stiffly in his chair, suddenly finding a crack in the fireplace's molding terribly interesting.


“Oh!” she exclaimed.


“Oh my.”


“Oh dear.”


“Is that so?”


“Well then.”


With each comment, Snape's discomfort increased exponentially.


He risked a glance in Adoxa's direction, only to catch her smiling at him, not with feral madness like earlier but with genuine amusement.


“I see no reason to wait a fortnight,” she stated.


“Oh?” He managed the barest hint of a smile.


“Considering that I have waited some thirteen years already.”


With that, she rose to her feet, drifting past Snape to the back of the shop.


“I'll be but a few moments,” she called. “I need to change out of this dust.”


Snape smirked to himself as he read five on the old grandfather clock. Any lingering concerns about the Dark Lord were replaced by his growing hunger.