August 31th, 1894 (around 1am in the morning) — the hallway to Prof. Griffith's office

Samuel was taking account of what was left of the festivities nearing one hour after midnight. A number of people, more than he had expected to endure to this hour, were still dotted throughout the Alchemy classroom and his offices. He bid his farewell to Etienne — "Adieu, mon cher ami. Que les étoiles veillent sur toi jusqu'à notre prochaine rencontre," the Frenchman murmured, and Samuel was sorry to see him go.

He was not drunk, but had been drinking along with conversation and everything else that had transpired throughout the night. It must have been a relevant amount, but he did not feel blurred or heady. He felt wide awake still, and alert.
To this late hour, the dark sky outside took on a different quality. He had always thought so. Going from window to window, he opened them to let in the fresh air. It carried the smell that belonged only to summer nights.

There was a hallway that led from his office to the personal rooms that he had left open to the visitors so they might have a quiet place to enjoy the views over the castle grounds. The window in this hallway was very large and ideally situated.
When he entered to open it, he saw a figure standing there that he recognized as Professor Lyra. Pleased to see that she was still around and had not left in the Irish fashion, he approached.
"Themis. Looking for the stars? Or just for a moment of quiet?"

Samuel pushed the wooden frames of the windowpanes out and peered at the sky. It was a clear night.
The cold lights above were visible in all their splendor.

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--- Themis Lyra ---

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   Themis Lyra

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She thoroughly enjoyed herself tonight; the event was a night to remember for pleasant interactions instead of staff awkwardness. She'd arrived as soon as was polite, wishing to be here to support her colleague and, to her surprise, her oftentimes companion. Themis avoided absolute decrees when possible, but her friendship with the new Alchemy professor surprised her. It was a strong reminder that there was much mystery in the world.

As midnight came and went, Themis had weeded down her social circle for the evening. Her confidence and congeniality drew her to conversation, but she was ready to withdraw and enjoy the night beyond prying eyes. She found herself wandering into the rooms attached to his classroom, his strong aesthetic vision manifesting throughout the room. Her eyes followed the curve and flow of runes now detailed around her, runic inscriptions appearing in the most unlikely places. Since her first introduction to the flow of power in this discipline, she saw the interplay of the world around her in a new light. The hypothetical nature of runes took on a new, active life mixed with powerful magic. Themis found herself hungry for it.

She heard his approach before his words, a smile taking her at his approach. She countered his movement, adjusting her position so he could join her staring into the night sky. "Why not both? I missed the stars, and perhaps I wished to introduce you to my world. Or, perhaps," She grinned her sphinx smile as she reached behind her for two glasses of dark burgundy. "I wished to enjoy the starts with a friend. We should toast, to your brilliant evening."

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   Samuel Griffith

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She would not have to invite him twice. Samuel settled, half leaning on the windowsill, beside Themis. He felt fond of the fact that he was not an unwelcome intruder on her solitude shared only with the sky, but had been expected. There was a wine glass, ready for him. He picked it up and smiled at her. "To this evening then—and to the night, that follows suit."

He looked up to the small dots of light and imagined what it would be like to parse them and have them reveal the secrets they kept. At this moment, he felt like he was bound to the earth in a way that she was not.
"You must feel closer to them than I do, right now. Perhaps you are halfway up there."

When one looked at the both of them standing at the window, it was apparent how they differed; like the countless hours spent mastering their craft had changed both of them to resemble its subject matter. He, dark and tan and absorbing, given to subtly shift and impact anything and any person that entered his sphere of influence. And Themis, fair and light and unknowable with her sphinx-like smile and dissecting gaze.

"I appreciated your help today," he added, to not drift too far from more concrete matters of conversation. Looking back at it now, he found the antics of his Bulgarian colleague rather amusing. More stories to tell and to remember this evening by.

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"To tonight." Themis agreed, raising her glass before sipping. She grinned at his assessment. "Do you mean to say my head is in the clouds?" She teased before considering him a moment more. "Perhaps not close, but familiar. They have been my companions my whole life. Someday, I may tell you a story about a silly little girl who learned that she had the name of a goddess and a constellation." She had been a dreamer at that age but wasn't prone to delusions of grandeur in adulthood. She knew who she was and her value; she didn't need stories.

Allowing Samuel's gravity to keep her here in the present. She raised an eyebrow at his allusion to their earlier wizard-tracking activities. "I was happy to help. Momentarily vexed, but thoroughly amused and happy to help." Taking a purposefully long sip of her wine, she added."I hate to tell you, but this evening held many similarities to classroom antics."

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"Perhaps. But not like you say it. I think you have a rather good view from up there," he answered.
"Someday you may. I did not know you much, back then."
The girl she was alluding to was not entirely foreign to his memory; they were familiar with each other for a long time, albeit from afar and in passing. She had been sitting at the Gryffindor table the day the Sorting Hat placed Samuel into Slytherin.

He laughed. "Classroom antics. Did we put so many years and so much effort into growing up and mastering this and that, only to end up where we began?"
Samuel drank his wine. The fact they were sitting here and looking out on the castle grounds they had roamed in their youth spoke for itself.
"Could be worse," he assessed. "My younger self would abhor me for my decision to return."
Even so, these days when he walked down to the lake for a swim in the late evening, he felt content.

"I suppose for the stars, it does matter which place you choose for gazing at them."
Samuel looked over at the astronomy tower. From his windows viewpoint, it loomed tall and dark over the landscape.

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"Much has changed since those days. I often wonder if my younger self would recognize me now." Themis didn't spend much time in her past, but she did wonder about the young, decisive girl and who she was now. She remembered the wild boy that was sorted into Slytherin, the brilliant potioneer a year below her. She avoided most Slytherins and found them pretentious and ridiculous, but he had flown in the face of all that. He was one of the few in his house that required notice. He put no effort into hiding his genius and seemed to enjoy vexing the purebloods in his house. Themis appreciated that about him and found his intellectual rebellion beautiful.

She smirked his laughter a welcome companion. "Time has a sick sense of humor, doesn't she? All that work, and I'm back in the classroom." They fell into a comfortable silence, Themis sipping her wine and enjoying his company. She was unsure what her younger self would think of her career choices. She considered her early morning treks to the lake and her morning swims; she thought about her daily walks throughout the castle, the hours spent in the library. "I wouldn't have the patience, as a girl, to consider teaching, but I am now surprised I didn't consider this in my youth."

She followed his eyes to her tower, the highest at Hogwarts and the most imposing in her view. "Perspective does matter, but I think the viewer's context is as crucial as a physical location." She adjusted her position, stepping before him and pointing to the sky. "For example, that is a simple string of stars, but to me? To me, these stars are part of my identity. That is Lyra."

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“Doesn’t it? I used to think I would never return—perhaps not even to this country. I thought I could stay a perpetual traveler. But a traveler who never returns and never settles is no traveler at all—such a person is either a fugitive or lost.”
Or both, he silently added, taking another sip from his wine glass.
“I am presently quite glad to be back.”
The silence between them stretched, but it was peaceful. The vigilance the evening had demanded of Samuel had filled him with a restless energy. Now it started to settle, and he felt the wine, a little.

Following the direction of her outstretched arm, he looked to the sky.
If he was honest, he could barely make out the configuration of celestial objects she was talking about. Samuel felt a familiar, quiet sense of dread. The impenetrable night sky only told him how much he was of the earth, and thus how much he was at the mercy of forces that were wrought up there and strung him along, down here; the laughable speck of dust his body was to the universe. The stars demanded humility and submission, and that he struggled to afford them.
But, because she had been brave in his realm, he now wanted to be brave in hers. So he said nothing of it and stayed with his dread and changed not the subject. He regarded with a sort of reverence that Themis could be at home up there.
“Tell me what they tell you,” he asked instead. “For I think that I do not understand their language.”

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"I am most grateful that your travels have brought you here." Themis meant her words, though the strength of the sentiment caught her off guard. What had started as her intention to welcome a new professor had become a reunion she never expected. It was funny to her that someone she barely knew as a child was firmly embedded in her good graces in adulthood. Now she was looking forward to seeing him at meals, eager to experience more of his craft and how he looked at the world. She was on solid terms with her coworkers, but this collaboration felt different somehow. Instead of worrying at that particular knot in her emotions, Themis turned her focus to the quiet of the night and the sounds of merrymaking inside.

Her attention at home in the stars, she felt instead of seeing the change in Samuel behind her. He had shared before his uneasy relationships with the heavens and its study. Perhaps, pointing him at an obscure constellation wasn't the best place to start. She felt the bubbling of guilt, a concern for his well-being, and a sense that she was to blame for his unease. Hoping to reassure, she warmed her voice, easing away from the academic to the personal. "What they tell me is a story. Lyra is the lyre of Orpheus. A mythical Greek hero that could bring tears to stones. When his wife died, he descended to the Underworld to save her. Upon his death, his lyre was carried to the heavens. As a child, it made me wonder if we Lyras were descended from Orpheus, that maybe my love of both music and the stars come from this. The truth is that the second century astronomers seemed to enjoy drawing shapes in the stars." She ended drily. "It also reminds me that humans have forced their constructs on the stars and decided they needed order to suit us. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of things, I remember that the stars have forced nothing on me. They exist; it is mortals that have decided that their order and names have meaning; it is other humans that may question my worth or accomplishments. The stars simply are."

Turning to face him, she placed her hand on his forearm. "The stars tell me to look to them for consistency and patterns; they do not tell me what I may or may not be. They never have. Their language would tell you to live as bright as they burn and take comfort in your own strength. Do not fear the stars, Samuel. They mean to light your way."

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   Samuel Griffith

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He listened, half sitting on the windowsill and looking at her profile while she spoke. Samuel studied the lines of it, its animation while she talked. Still, he was not sure if it was given to him to find his way around the sky like she did, but his dread eased, the more he allowed himself to be taken in by her perspective. If he was to find a gate into the realm of the stars, he thought that he knew where to direct his gaze.
When Themis placed her hand on his arm, he became aware that she had once again looked right through him. Not only had she seen where he had been residing within himself just moments ago, she had steered him away from there into someplace new. She had done it in a manner that had almost escaped his notice. Almost.
"It seems that you are changing my positioning, right where I had dug my heels in," he conceded and looked from her hand to her face and smiled. "Not many have been able to do that."
He had sometimes an obstinate pridefulness to contend with in himself; this was why he rejected subjects that did not give him tangible access to more power and instead suggested to step back and regard things in the immeasurable scope of their context. There were entire areas of life and study he had walled off and declared inaccessible or not worth his time for this very reason.
And now, without feeling bitter or defensive about it, Samuel arrived at the conclusion that he had been wrong in his judgment. Their experiment a month ago was fresh in his mind. He had been thinking about how what he had seen there of her abilities was connected to her field of study; he had indeed given it an almost excessive amount of thought.

"What you say about consistency and patterns is familiar to me from my work. Understanding the patterns and rules that govern the movement of the stars and by extension aspects of our life here on earth is essential to the understanding of closed systems. I think that not only do you understand these concepts in far more depth than me; I think it likely that you could reconstruct and adapt them in a way I likewise struggle to," he said.
Samuel was not sure yet that she got where he was headed. So he made it clear: "I have had it on my mind since our last meeting to propose something to you, Themis. A sort of academic exchange. We have not yet got into the construction of the circle you worked with; we merely used it. The former is a science of its own. One where I think you may soon become my teacher, instead of I yours. Although, I am of course willing to teach you anything you would like to know."
He paused, searching for a reaction on her face. Samuel felt confident that he had something of value on offer, but as always with her, he was not completely certain of the outcome of his queries.

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   Themis Lyra

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She felt his gaze as she spoke. Themis felt a familiar, near-automatic pressure to justify herself, her credentials, and her existence to this man observing her. She was ready to defend her opinions and observations, somehow knowing there would be resistance to her ideas. At least, that was what she anticipated. She was caught off guard by Samuel’s willingness to listen to her. Themis had mastered the art of being heard, but active listening from a male peer was still a surprise. She was twice shocked when he admitted a possible need to redirect his opinion.

She saw him for what he was, Samuel a fallible human, and it made her care in a way that confused her. As much as she adored absolutes, she lived in a world of ambiguity and nuance. It didn’t make her any more comfortable when she couldn’t identify her sentiments.

“I think familiarity comes from sharing a common vocabulary. Astronomy studies the planets and stars, Astrology implies that there is some metaphysical connection between the heavens and earth, and Alchemy applies this connection to the physical world. I think it more a spectrum of tangibility.” She had given too much thought to their experiment now a month past. She’d dreamed of copper, the feel of her magic, and the unfamiliar pressure of Samuel’s own power. How could she not? Something pulled her toward him repeatedly, much like the sun did the planets, but Themis was strangely hesitant to ask to continue.

“Seems a bit early to be proposing, Samuel.” She couldn’t keep herself from commenting and immediately considered blaming the statement on the wine she understood what he was offering. “You’re serious.” She did not ask. “You’re willing to teach me?” She didn’t bother to hide her surprise, but was genuine in her eager response, “Of course, it would be an honor to learn with you. I only hope I have enough to offer in exchange.”

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   Samuel Griffith

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The moment of anticipation turned into relief. Beneath that was worry that her acceptance came wrapped up with something else.
Surprised about her quip, Samuel returned: "My mother would tell you that me making proposals is already a decade past due." Normally he would have appreciated this foray into flirtatiousness; after all, he was known to flirt. Even said mother, ostracized as she was from his kind that was not hers, was aware of it by way of gossip. Yet, nothing even resembling a courtship had ever come from it. People therefore wondered what was wrong with him, Mrs. Dolores Griffith worried, and he, who knew what was the matter with him, was only unsettled that this comment had come from Themis. He did not believe that she meant it entirely suggestively; she was perhaps getting at something else: he was being fast and forward with all of this.

Samuel knew that he was walking a thin line in asking her to be alone and so close with him, again and on a continuum. He did not know what was in Themis Lyra's past that made her as she was right now; he could perhaps not read as accurately into other people as she could, but he had an instinctive hold on their depths and recesses of feeling—where they were vulnerable and where they had hardened themselves. He was certain that not only had she hardened herself to the world and men especially in a quite complete fashion; if she would get the impression that he was taking liberties, using their agreement for ulterior motives and to ensnare her affections, she would unceremoniously throw him out of her life. There would then be no coming back from that. Duplicitous and strategic behavior would not be tolerated, and Samuel had in his life at times been guilty of it—although he had no intentions for it now. He was truthful of his estimation that she might hold the key to push across the boundaries he had been stuck behind. He did want this—it was no game to him. He had to believe himself about this, or this was doomed. All that was required of him was to hold his own reins tightly in his hands and to not allow himself to misstep; he thought himself capable of this.

So, because he knew that she would get wise to what had transpired in his head otherwise, he severed all of the emotions his thoughts had awoken, and threw them into the murky waters inside of him; where only the gods knew what lay decaying in the depths.
Returning to an equilibrium of feeling, he looked at her and said calmly: "I am serious and willing. And I am confident in my estimation; it is no idle flattery. We will see in time where it will lead us. And if this synthesis of knowledge may turn out to be the missing piece."
He moved to refill their glasses, which had the added effect of her hand falling away naturally. He thought it better that way, considering his decisions to behave very conscientiously.

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   Themis Lyra

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She felt the shift in him, as soon as the joke had left her lips. She knew where she erred, as soon as she spoke, she knew. Yet, even as she felt her mistake, she was intrigued by his reaction. He matched her verbally, as expected, but his mind was not in the moment now. She wanted to watch his reactions, further learn how this new star on her horizon functioned, but he had earned his freedom from her searching gaze.

She still knew so little about this man, about what drove him and his motivations. He knew very little of her. What she could not tolerate was him dismissing her as a woman as weak as the prattle in Witch Weekly would have one believe. She allowed him to take her glass, allowed him to build some barrier inside that changed his tone. She took her glass back and sipped for a moment, allowing him to speak. She listened, but now he would hear her.

“Then I will make the same pact with you. I take this seriously and I am willing, but believe me when I say this: I do not ask for kid gloves from you, Samuel. While I will follow your guidance, I do not ask for your protection. I will hold my own.” It was best he learn that now.

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   Samuel Griffith

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Thank you, Bee!

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Samuel was searching in his pockets for the étui that he kept his cigarettes in. Upon hearing the intensity in her voice, he stopped what he was doing and looked up. Unwillingly delighted by her candor, he held out his hands. Their palms were turned towards her; it was a gesture that felt foreign to him, but he did not mind it. Those he did not need to hide anymore, what for?

"Consider them ungloved from now on and forever," he offered. He felt that he meant it; felt as though he was committing to a pact between them that would pull on both of them with its gravity. At the same time, he could not help but think that at this point she could not possibly understand the scope of what she was demanding; she did not know enough. How could she? And how much would he dare to tell her?

Standing in the dark with the stars behind them, he considered that they were in truth still strangers. Perhaps in this moment they shared the same sentiment: uncharted territory now surrounded them, and uncharted they were to each other.

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She held him with a different gaze now, an intensity of fire in her eyes daring him to underestimate her in some manner. She resisted the small voice begging her to calm down, to trust that Samuel was not so small of a man. She resisted until he offered his hands.

Her eyes flicked from his to his palms. There were so many questions she'd formed in the last weeks, but this was her first opportunity to see them without pushing him past the boundary she believed existed there. While one palm appeared almost healed, the still appeared raw to her eyes. Did they pain him? Did they affect the sensation in his hands? How was his wandwork? Did he view them with pride or disgust; was it both?

Setting her glass on the window ledge, she considered only a moment more before stepping to him. This felt consequential in a way that lacked words. She did not make any vow lightly and did not tie herself to things or people without knowing (or writing) her terms. She had no idea what she was agreeing to do; did not know the goal of his experiments. This was unwise, imprudent, and yet, she was choosing her path.

She put her hands in his.

“Then I am with you.”

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   Samuel Griffith

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