Rating: T (language, violence)
Warnings: AU, mean teen Snape
A/N: This was originally written under another pen name. Many thanks to MW87 and mariaefrancisco, whose betaing greatly improved this story. Disclaimer: What you recognize isn't mine. The rest comes from the mildly rich mind of an insignificant poor person.
House Help
Chapter One: Assignment Accepted
"You asked to see me, Father?"
Just turning to leave a brief post-Mass conversation with two elderly ladies in flowered, scrub-worn dresses, the kind-faced priest halted.
"Ah, yes. Why don't we chat over here?" He gestured toward the pews beside the St. Joseph altar, where numerous candles flickered in small red cups below an elaborately-framed, cheap print. The young woman sat, carefully smoothing her dark skirt to her knees.
The priest sat the space of a person away on the same bench and ran his fingers through neatly shorn, sandy brown hair. He didn't know the young woman well, only than that she'd immediately pitched in at the church with the little time-consuming jobs others disliked—dusting, mopping, replacing spent candles, stacking missals.
"The parish secretary tells me ya've volunteered t'help parishioners who may need some assistance," he ventured.
"Yes, Father," she answered respectfully.
He looked at her astutely. "Ya've only been here, what? Two months." He waved about the bleak interior. "It's a rough-and-tumble parish, ya know. Folk who work hard, make little, and cling t' what little pride they have left. It's been a bit of a surprise that ya chose t' move here."
The brunette pursed her lightly tinted lips, then smiled. "I come from a long line of poor people, Father. The only reason I can afford university is that I worked the Scottish fisheries for three years and saved everything I could." She pushed back a strand of nearly waist-length hair draped on her arm. "Everyone needs help at some point. It's a matter of whether anyone actually offers it."
The priest nodded. "And few ask for it." He looked at the altar a moment, then sighed. "There's a woman in hospital who'll be needin' help when she returns home. Her husband works the mine, is a hard drinker, and as proud as they come." He paused, considering how to explain. "There was a … disagreement between husband and wife. She was beaten. He was arrested. Not for hurtin' her, mind ya, but for startin' a pub brawl and landin' two men in hospital."
A glance at the girl showed her expression was neutral. The lack of surprise made it obvious that she was aware of domestic abuse, though how he could only guess.
He chose her because she had seemed wise for her twenty-one years and arrived with a hand-written recommendation from her previous priest, who'd noted her selfless dedication, especially for the old and infirm. She'd moved to attend nursing school in nearby Birmingham, having chosen this small town because its living expenses were far less than in the city even with paying commuting fare.
Shaking his head, the young priest continued.
"The poor woman 'as broken bones, cuts and internal injuries. Good Hope will discharge her tomorrow. She's too proud t' ask for help, and the only other relative anyone knows of is a son, but no one knows how to locate him and she doesn't speak of him. If you agree to help her, you'll need to go directly to her at home and just take charge."
He turned to face the girl and pulled a knee up along the pew's edge. . "The husband will be in jail several days, perhaps a few weeks. The wife's not pressin' charges. The station will let me know when he's t' be released. It'd be best if you aren't there alone when he comes home, which can almost be guaranteed to be after eight in the evenin'. He always stops at the pub after work and rarely leaves before then."
The student looked at her hands, which were smooth but strong. "What would you have me do?"
"T'be carin' and careful. She'll be released about ten tomorrow and will need help for probably a week. I'll speak with her doctor. Meet him at Good Hope. He'll introduce you t' her and firmly explain that you're going t' help. She'll need meals, changin' her dressings, help with movin' about, bathin'. When the husband's due for release, I'll let ya know. Leave before eight, makin' sure t' first have a hot supper ready for him and a cold breakfast and packed lunch for the next day. And stop at the rectory so that I know all's well."
He tilted his head. "It's a lot t' ask, but the other women are busy with their own jobs and families." The priest wearily rubbed the back of his neck. "D'you think you could handle it? D'ya have the time?"
Thoughtfully tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear, Audrey considered the request. It was understandable that the parish women didn't want to step into a private and potentially volatile matter for which there was little, if any, legal recourse. The eldest of six children, she'd grown up responsible and independent, but also appreciating the necessary interdependence within family and community.
"I'll do it," she said decidedly, turning confident blue eyes on him. "My classes are all in the morning, and being first year, they're not difficult. Studying doesn't take long—not yet, anyhow. It would help if you'd write a note to my school."
"Of course."
"Do I know them, Father?"
The priest shook his head, sighing again. "I understand that their attendance has been intermittent, at best." Fishing beneath his vestments for a pocket, he pulled out a slip of paper. "Here are the names and address. They've no phone, and only a few houses on that street are occupied nowadays." Both of his eyebrows lifted. "You'll be careful?"
The young woman smiled confidently. "Yes, Father. I know where the nearest police station is."
They looked at each other a few moments and both reaching the conclusion that the interview was concluded, rose simultaneously.
"I thank ya, Audrey Cox." The priest extended his hand and shook hers, and then they both turned, he to climb the short, narrow steps to the sacristy and she to leave through the front door. At second thought, the priest returned to kneel before the altar to offer a quick prayer for the student and her patient-to-be.
oOo
Stiff, weary and anxious, Eileen Snape wasn't enthused with Dr. Wilson's announcement that the young woman standing behind him would be helping her at home. The doctor accepted her curt statement that her son didn't need to be contacted, but he stood his ground when it came to the church-provided student nurse.
Toby would be furious at her weakness, Eileen knew. But he was in the clink, and she wasn't yet able to care for herself, let alone muster any magic.
The black-haired, black-eyed woman's features were severely drawn as she resignedly nodded her acceptance. There would be a stranger in the house. She'd have to keep the girl from learning the family's secrets.
oOo
Eileen was carefully eased into the taxi's back seat by her doctor-foisted helper. If not for the pain, she would have settled back to relax in luxury, this being her first taxi ride since Tobias had proudly taken his wife and newborn son home from hospital. Instead, she watched as the surroundings went from comfortably middle class to grim, signaling their arrival at Spinner's End.
With Audrey holding her steady, Eileen shuffled up the cracked, uneven walkway, bravely tolerating the pain. At the door, which needed a fresh coat of paint, she reached into her decades-old, standard-black handbag and fingered the house key. Shakily, she extended a thin hand to the door and turned the key in the dull brass lock. Audrey twisted the knob and found that the door practically opened itself, the hinges smooth from wear and regular oiling.
"I-I think I should sit." Eileen couldn't bear the idea of climbing the stairs just yet. The girl helped her into the nearest chair, whose springs creaked even from Eileen's slight frame.
"I'll get you some water and then get the bed ready," Audrey said, dashing into the kitchen before Eileen could respond.
She hated the idea of someone else in her kitchen. AndthegirlplanstonextgointoTobias'sandmybedroom! Eileen took a deep breath, recovering from the excursion. She was too tired to think, but had to consider what must be done.
The books—well, that couldn't be helped. Most of the Dark Arts books were in Severus's room and their titles carefully concealed with Disguising Charms. Those downstairs were carefully stashed among second-hand Muggle books, including the Reader'sDigest volumes she'd learnt about after marrying Tobias. Her tired mind floated into memories of reading KonTiki, TheHawaiiansand other stories that Severus later read during his last years in Muggle school. The books were among the few Muggle things she'd found to provided some enjoyment.
Some of the magical items she'd inherited were in her family's Gringotts vault, which she hadn't visited in years. The rest she'd given to Severus, who had left a few in the wobbly desk she'd managed to buy when he was nine and already the tallest boy his age. Those things could be mistaken for old children's toys.
No, the real concern was her wand. She kept it because it was the only thing that had ever been truly hers alone—and she had, on occasion, used it to defend herself against her drunken husband. It was in the kitchen, third drawer from the top, shoved in the back under a pile of threadbare towels. It was never exposed because Tobias never helped with washing up. The only drawer he ever got into contained the tableware and the little bit of pin money she didn't hide from him. Her other money was tucked into the bottom of the canister holding a hefty bag of flour.
After opening two cupboard doors, Audrey found the glasses. She pulled out one, filling it at the aged sink. Returning to the sitting room, she handed the glass to Mrs. Snape and observed. The woman lifted the glass to her lips, her hand trembling slightly.
"We should get you to bed soon," Audrey said kindly. "I'll get things ready, and once you're there, I'll fix you some soup."
Eileen's long fingers grasped the girl's wrist. "Thank you," she said, smiling as much as she ever did. "The room is atop the stairs, on the left."
Audrey nodded, making to leave. But Eileen held on.
"There's one thing," the matron continued. "The kitchen drawer third from the top—I'd appreciate if you stayed out of it. There are … personal things, family things."
Audrey smiled. Her mother always kept her pin money and bills in a kitchen drawer, and wouldn't want anyone mucking about in there. "I understand. Don't worry," she said reassuringly.
Released, the young woman climbed the creaking stairs covered with a threadbare runner. The door at right was closed, and the open door facing it led to Mrs. Snape's room. Inside was a double bed fashioned from a dark wood, with a matching dresser and two bedside tables. One dresser drawer was broken down the middle, and had been repaired with glue that had left clear bumps over the crack. A straight-backed pine chair sat next to a stand containing a wind-up alarm clock. Its only adornment was a tatted cotton doily. The wood floor was bare and dull, lacking even a rug. Without a closet, clothes hung on a free-standing metal rack, possibly the newest item in the run-down house.
The bed was covered with an old but pretty, blue-floral spread. A matching, ruffled valance decorated the sole window, highlighting dingy, cream curtains. They seemed to be an attempt to make and otherwise drab environment cheerful.
Audrey's fingers brushed against the rough cotton as she pulled back the spread. The sheets seemed freshly cleaned—probably just before Mr. Snape had brutalized his wife, sending each of them to different temporary accommodations. She stacked the two pillows so that her charge could rest comfortably, then returned downstairs.
Drowsy, Eileen had fallen asleep, her chin resting on her chest. Audrey tenderly placed a hand on her forearm, gently waking the woman, who momentarily caught her breath at the sight of her forgotten aide. She allowed the young woman to help her up and leaned on her as they slowly climbed the stairs together.
Upon reaching the bed, Eileen immediately collapsed. She shook her head at Audrey's inquiry whether she wished to use the water closet and allowed the nurse-to-be to help her change into a nightdress. Once the patient was settled, Audrey returned downstairs to begin cleaning and preparing soup.
oOo
For the first few nights, Audrey slept in what apparently was the son's room so that she could provide help during the night. There was pain medicine to administer, and Mrs. Snape still needed assistance to the WC. In the morning, Audrey changed her dressings, handed Mrs. Snape her pills, and then prepared and delivered a breakfast of hot porridge, tea and canned fruit. After washing up the dishes, she placed a tray containing a water carafe and cold sandwich on one of the bedside tables, next to a couple of books should Mrs. Snape wish to read. Then she pulled on her coat, grabbed her books, and hurried to the bus stop to begin the journey into Birmingham to attend classes.
By mid-afternoon, she was back to check on Mrs. Snape, deliver her mail, chat with her for a few minutes and ask if she wanted anything else. The main task then was to set the house in order, a project that lasted several afternoons and evenings. Evidence of depression was rampant. Other than the bedroom, which was relatively orderly, the entire house needed attention.
The bathroom was first, receiving a thorough scrubbing from ceiling to floor. The kitchen next received the same attention. Stacks of dirty clothes went into the tiny, ground-floor washroom that contained an aged washer with a hand-cranked wringer. The damp clothes had to be draped on racks for drying. Scattered tabloid newspapers, circulars and magazines were picked up and sorted, the oldest placed in the rubbish bin along with stale and spoiled food from the refrigerator and cupboards. Every dish and utensil in the kitchen was washed and replaced in an orderly fashion.
At six, she fixed simple meals: soup the first several days, then stew. She joined Mrs. Snape upstairs for dinner, quietly sharing with her the latest news and listening to what little the older woman had to say. Later, Audrey ironed and put away laundry before doing her homework.
She stayed the first three nights in the squeaky single bed, the door open and alarm set to check on the patient. By the fourth, Eileen was truthfully confident that she could go to the WC on her own. Thenceforth, Audrey returned to her small flat.
A reserved and cautious woman, Eileen couldn't bring herself to be very open with the girl. Since her marriage, Eileen had become a near recluse because Tobias would become angry whenever he discovered she'd "been talking" with anyone but him. It was safest not to become friends with anyone. Thegirlwillbegonesoon,anyway, she thought.
oOo
After putting away the last glass into the packed cabinet, Audrey draped the towel over her shoulder and pulled forward an old recipe box from the counter's rear. Made of rosewood with traditional Indian carvings, even its scratches were worn smooth. She removed the top and thumbed through cards both white and yellowed, slowing in the section marked "Biscuits." The refrigerator biscuits recipe she had found would work well. The dough could be chilled quickly in the freezer, and a full batch baked, cooled and stored by seven-thirty, allowing time to wash up and leave.
She pulled out two of the heavy mixing bowls before collecting the wet and dry ingredients, a fork for blending and a heavy spoon for mixing. From the box of waxed paper in the bottom drawer, she tore off two pieces for rolling and wrapping the dough.
The only thing she couldn't find was a biscuit cutter. Surely there would be one or more. After all, the Snapes had raised a child. Frustrated, she took the towel from her right shoulder so that she could dig deeper without the cloth brushing against her cheek.
A pale hand pressed against the kitchen doorway, long fingers wrapping against the surprisingly clean wood. Peering from beneath a fringe of long, lank, black hair, the young man watched.
oOo
SeeChapter2forHouse Help'sconclusion.