Disclaimer: Not mine.
A Best Forgotten Conspiracy
Chapter 2
Redda woke slowly, turning on her side and pulling the blanket up to her chin. Then, feeling sunlight touch the skin of her cheek, she pulled the blanket higher and covered her head as she nestled down lower into the bed. She did not want to wake up and she did not want to face another day. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and feel a real sheet on a soft bed and rest her head on a pillow. She heard footsteps and far off voices, but the coldness no longer hovered over her head, the sound of a gentle wind as the Dementors passed was not here.
She lay still, unable to turn off her mind. She held herself in that place just to the real side of dreams. That place where dreams and reality blend and become one. She often stayed in that place where the images of dreams replace memories until the mind cannot decipher the difference. She heard her name called, and was not sure where the voice called her to. It had been ten years since she had heard her name spoken aloud. It was foreign and not longer belonged to her. Unable to place the name to her dreams she became cold, knowing she was no longer alone in her fear.
She pulled the blanket down and blinked at the light, throwing her arm over her eyes and struggling to sit up as the pain hit her again, telling her the voice that was calling her name was in the here and now.
"Miss Livingston." A voice called insistently, "You must wake up now."
Squeezing her eyes shut, she waved her arm toward the offending noise and used her other arm to push her body up from the bed, into a sitting position as she tried to focus her mind. Breathing deeply, until the initial pain subsided, she cautiously opened her eyes and looked at the wizard standing at her bedside.
"I was sleeping," she said flatly.
"You have been sleeping for twenty-four hours," the dark wizard sneered. "I have come to collect you for the Headmaster."
"I need to bathe." She looked around getting a feel for this place. She looked to the window and saw the flash of lightening, and heard the thunder that shook the panes and seemed to reverberate to the very stones in the floor. Rain pelted down in sheets against the lead glass. She knew it would be a long day.
Her grandmother used to claim she could feel the coming rain by the pain in her hands. Redda could feel the screaming in her hips and knees, and knew it would not let up until the storm was past. The pain was always with her, but today it would be worse. She looked at the wizard and slowly brought her legs over the edge of the bed to stand.
"Where is the tub?" she asked. "I want a tub, not a shower."
"You are not in a position to make demands."
"Listen, I am tired, I am sore, and I am hungry," she said, looking at him coldly. "Since you have decided I can not sleep, and I see no breakfast tray, let me have my third choice. I need to bathe."
He looked at the witch and cursed himself for not anticipating her request. He could have guessed she would ask for this from the stench that she gave off the night before. She had been so dirty and sweaty that he had used cleansing spells before laying her on the bed. Madame Pomfrey was gone for the summer, and Albus had already told him the witch would be his charge until the Medi-Witch returned. Now he cursed that he had chose to stay in Hogwarts this summer. He walked to the end of the infirmary and opening the closet, took out two towels and a hospital gown.
Walking back to Redda's bed he handed them to the witch and stepped back to watch her as she stood up. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled as she clutched the towels and simple garment to her and tried to straighten, biting her lip to stop from crying out.
"This way," he said stonily walking toward Gryffindor Tower. Once there he said the password to the Fat Lady and waited until Redda stepped into the Common Room before he followed. She stood to the side as he walked into the empty dormitory and headed toward the prefects' bath. Opening up the door to the large sunken tub, he stepped aside and allowed her to pass.
"When you are done you may join us in the Headmasters office," he sneered down at her as he spun on his heel.
"Wait just a minute." She looked at him incredulously. "If you think for one moment I am traipsing though these halls with nothing on but a hospital gown you are stupider than you look."
He stopped and slowly turned to look at her, his hands clenched at his sides.
"I am what?" he hissed at her.
"Stop being a Git," she sighed. "Listen, I just want to sit in a tub of hot water up to my chin and pretend none of this happened. For just one hour I want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?"
"Take your bath." He frowned. "I shall try to find suitable clothing."
"I prefer trousers, men's trousers and long sleeved shirts."
"You will dress appropiaty while in these halls."
"I'm not staying. Make sure the clothes are old, I don't want to stand out."
He left her standing alone as he strode out of the room furious that Albus had put him in such a position. She stood until she was sure he was gone then turned to the bath smiling.
The tub was overly large and deep. She smiled as she turned on one of the many taps and watched as warm scented water flooded into the pool. She tried a different tap and saw bubbles spill, swirling on the water, creating a frosty looking concoction that reminded her whipped cream.
It took only a few minutes for the water to fill the pool and magically turn off when it reached the proper depth. Redda slipped off the clothes she wore, and threw them into a heap on the floor. Then she slowly eased herself into the water welcoming the soothing heat.
"Oooh, company." A young girl's giddy voice came to Redda. "You are too old to be here. You are in the wrong place."
Redda looked up and saw the ghost of a student whizzing around the room, pouting down at her with arms crossed over her chest.
"I assure you, I will leave as soon as I am done," Redda scowled. "Now go away and leave me alone."
"This is my bath," the ghost continued pouting. "No one comes and visits me anymore. I am left alone."
"Yeah," Redda muttered. "Gets lonely does it? Fine, you can stay, just shut up."
"My name is Myrtle," the ghost said. "Who are you?"
"Redda, Redda Livingston," she said wrapping her tongue around her name she had not spoken for years. "Now quiet."
Redda relaxed into pool, feeling the water caress her and welcomed the warmth that spread though her as she laid her head back against the side. She felt herself beginning to float off to that place of comfort again, near sleep and wake, when a splash startled her. Sitting up quickly and looking around, she spied Myrtle pelting her with flannels and scrub brushes.
"What are you doing, Myrtle?" She looked up at the spectre.
"You need to scrub to get all that off." Myrtle made a face and pinched her nose. "It looks like you have not bathed for a long time."
Redda looked down to the water and grabbed up the items Myrtle had thrown at her, lining them up on the side of the pool. She sat on a ledge just below the surface of the water and turned sideways to bring her body closer to the surface. Using the brush, she began rubbing her feet and legs until a tingling sensation told her to move on. She turned her attention to her arms and as she washed and scrubbed off the dead skin, she felt a smoothness she had not felt in years, and began to cry.
She did not remember when the tears began, or when Myrtle first came floating down and took up a flannel to wash her back. She did not remember how the shampoo got in her hair, or how the hot water poured over her head to remove the last of Azkaban from her body. She did not remember who pushed her toward a shower as the water in the tub was changed, or returning to the clean scented water and again slipping into its embrace.
She remembered the pain going away as she lay in the water and a potion was poured down her throat. She remembered being picked up, wrapped in a blanket and carried back to her bed. She dreamed of before, of the time she had forgotten, and not knowing if they were dreams of memories, she woke suddenly, sitting up and gasping for air.
"You are in the infirmary Miss Livingston." A voice cut though to her.
"The infirmary," she repeated sitting up and looking around. "I was in the bath."
"Yes. Moaning Myrtle came to inform us that you were in need of help," the dark wizard looked at her coldly.
"She is the ghost that lives there?" Redda questioned, knowing the answer but needing to affirm her memory correct.
"Yes," he scowled at her.
"Who are you?" she turned and looked at him.
"Professor Snape," he answered lifting an eyebrow.
"Your mother named you Professor, how odd," she quipped looking around at the infirmary.
"My name is Severus Snape. I am the Potions Professor here at Hogwarts." He felt a twitch of his lip.
"Well, Snape," she said turning to him, "if I am to see the Headmaster perhaps we should call a stop to our friendly banter and proceed."
"While in this castle you will call me Professor Snape, or Master Snape." Severus crossed his arms and demanded.
"Fine, Snape," she sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing.
"Was it you that gave me a potion?" She looked down at her legs, as if seeing them for the first time.
"Yes." He stood and began walking to the infirmary's door.
"Wait! Did you make the potion? Was it one of yours?"
"Yes," he sneered down at her.
"Thank you Professor." Her lip curled up as she saw his surprise. "Just don't expect me to call you Master."
"It will not last." Severus told her coldly, nodding to the empty vial by her bed. "You will soon be as you were."
"It matters not." She shrugged and walked past him and into the hallway. "I am only concerned with the present."
"The Headmaster is waiting. I see you know your way. However, I do not believe I remember seeing you here before."
"I was only a student here a short while. It was a long time ago."
"Indeed." he intoned.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, he watching her from the corner of his eye, she fighting back the flood of memories that the hallways threw at her. She wanted to go back to bed, and eat until she was full, and she wanted to leave this place and this world and find somewhere to hide. She wanted to go back to someplace that no longer existed, to a time that was gone, to people she had not seen r heard of in years.
As the circular staircase opened to carry them up the Headmaster's office, she hoped to have this over with and be able to leave as soon as she could. She took a deep breath and started up.
"Miss Livingston." Albus' voice was warm as he walked toward her and held out his arms.
Redda allowed him to give her a grandfatherly hug, trying her best not to flinch and pull away. She painted on a smile and sat on the sofa where he indicated she should wait.
She stole a glance at Severus when she realized he was staying for the meeting and saw him look at her oddly. Lifting her chin and gazing back at the Headmaster, she resolved not to let his presence bother her.
"Headmaster," she began coldly. "If you have a pensive available I can give you what I came here for. I expect you to find me the clothing I have requested, feed me, and allow me to leave."
"I have a pensive waiting my dear," Albus said, smiling. "I am sure we can find clothing and a meal for you."
"I would like to start. I will need my wand."
"The pensive is waiting on my desk." Albus stood and walked over to the pensive as Redda followed.
"I will not however allow you use of a wand." Albus smiled at her. "I do not think that would be wise until we are done with our talk."
Albus took his wand and placed the tip at Redda's temple, extracting the memory that she held. She closed her eyes as the visions of the dream memory ripped though her mind and not wanting to let it go she tried to pull back. Albus whispered and incantation and ripped the thought from her, then in a fluid motion placed his wand in the pensive and deposited the silver essence.
"Bastard." She hissed, staggering back. "You had no right to force it."
"Now, now, Miss Livingston," Albus sighed. "I am sure you have held onto that for these many years wishing to be rid of it."