I return to my flat and try to think, but fail. The facts don't add up to anything reasonable. Potter may be dull but not that stupid, I must admit. He's become… tolerable… after the end of the war. Apparently he helped clearing my name in the trials while I was comatose, something I definitely wouldn't have expected from the brat I knew from Hogwarts, and I think I also see less of his father in him these days.
Again there's something I've forgotten, another name? How can it be?
The next morning I'm in a lousy mood. Luckily it's the weekend. Unluckily for me, the shop is still open on weekends. I spend as long as I dare down in the labs, brewing simple remedies everyone should know how to make instead of buying them from me, and then occasionally head up to deal with customers.
That afternoon I feel something odd in my inner pocket, a warm sensation. Upon investigation I notice it is the brass disc. It is warm to the touch and somehow I sense desperation mixed with something else, is that fear? Hope? Grief? It doesn't make sense. Whipping out my wand I answer, and follow a minute later after hurriedly closing and Warding the shop.
The door to her business is unlocked. When I enter I see the store is in disarray. A shelf has been flipped, vials and jars have crashed onto the ground, the chair is upended and the witch is sitting in a corner, with her feet drawn up, appearing to look straight ahead at nothing.
"Master Brennus?" she says faintly when I enter.
I quickly step over the debris and crouch down in front of her. "Please, call me Severus."
"Severus…" she whispers and I shiver involuntarily when hearing her say my name.
First things first, I think while surveying her. "Are you hurt?"
I reach a hand out to her, gently touching hers. She gasps but allows the contact and then grips my fingers strongly. She shakes her head, anyway.
"Come on, rise with me." I get up first, not letting go of her hand, and gently pull her up to standing, steadying her with my other hand on her elbow. I see she is barefoot, and there is blood seeping out between her toes.
"Is there somewhere we can go? Your feet are bleeding."
She takes a step and winces, clinging to my arm. "Oh… Through the curtain at the back, then."
I scoop her up, it seems the most efficient. She squeaks in surprise but doesn't protest further, and helps wave the curtain aside with a flick of her wrist as we approach.
We end up in a tiny hallway. A light switch near the opening lights a single Muggle bulb hanging from the ceiling. There is a door to the left, another to the right, and one door straight ahead which is open to reveal bathroom tiles on the floor. I head that way. The bathroom is also in a sad state, with cracked tiles, a shower cabin and a small bathroom cabinet that almost looks as if it wants to jump off the wall. The formerly-green paint is cracked and flaking. I deposit her on the loo lid, the only available surface, and kneel down before her again.
It's awkward but I clean her feet with a towel I rinse in the sink, carefully picking out the glass shards with my wand. She winces but doesn't complain.
"I will get you some potions and salves for your feet. Is there anything else you need?"
She shakes her head, I don't believe her. She can't stay here, anyway, sitting alone in the bathroom on the loo lid. "You can't stay here. Is there a kitchen or a sofa?"
"That way," she says and points vaguely to the left from where she's sitting.
I lift her again and carry her through the other door. We end up in a tiny room, with a twin bed along the wall shared with the shop, a two-person kitchen table by the window with two rickety chairs, and a tiny kitchenette. There's a wardrobe behind the door, as well, but otherwise there's no more space for anything. After some deliberation I put her on one of the kitchen chairs and pull the other one closer for her to put her feet on.
"I will clean up out there and be back shortly."
"Please," she says again, quietly, and again I'm not sure what she's referring to.
I turn on my heel and stalk out, eager to start so that I can return sooner. The shop is easily cleaned with a few flicks of my wand, and her lotions and brews are no match compared to fifteen years' worth of accidents at Hogwarts. The shelf is put to rights, I manage to salvage some of the containers, but a lot of the contents is ruined. I right the chair and Scourgify the floors too, making sure no glass remains there and idly wonder why she was padding around barefoot.
I leave, Warding the entrance almost on auto pilot, and quickly return to my workshop to pick up some potions. After some deliberation I also place an order with a local Indian restaurant, thinking she needs some nutrition.
When I return, laden with potions and various boxes full of steaming food, she's still sitting in the same spot I left her in, looking small and forlorn, lost even.
She gasps when I enter the room. "You returned…"
I raise an eyebrow in reflex before remembering she cannot see it. "Of course I've returned, silly witch. I told you so. I brought some food, I hope you're hungry."
Her stomach growls and if I could see her face I'm sure she would be blushing.
"Feet first," I declare and set to work. I give her a pain potion and a general healing potion to counteract whatever ingredients she may have stepped in, make sure to disinfect the wounds again with a spell and then drip some Dittany to seal them. She flinches but doesn't complain. I bandage her feet up and then set them down on the floor.
"You have warm hands," she comments, almost dreamily. "Strong."
I feel awkward and don't answer. The Pain Potion I gave her contains a mild sedative, some people get a bit loopy on it but it's quite effective. Naturally. It's my own brew, after all.
"I brought Indian, I hope that is acceptable."
She lights up and nods. "There should be plates in the left cupboard. Oh, it's been ages since I had Indian, I think…"
She trails off while I fetch plates. There are two chipped ones in the shabby cupboard, and I even find cutlery and two glasses. Nothing drinkable other than water, but that works too.
We eat mostly in silence. I don't ask what happened, thinking she will tell me eventually. Not until we're finished does she speak up.
"I thought I recognised someone but he blew up at me, saying he'd never seen me before and that I was a fraud and a fake. He pulled down the shelf and the chair and I must have hurt my feet when trying to go after him. It was his first visit, he won't come back."
I don't even bother to tamp down the white-hot flare of anger that courses through me. "Can you tell me anything more about him?"
She thinks, it seems. "Aodh… that's the name that came to me. When I washed his hair I sensed he wanted fame, most of all. Recognition, maybe."
Aodh means Fire, I'm pretty sure. Another clue? I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all. "What do you mean, you sensed it?"
She shrugs. "That's what I do. I sense what people desire, through their hair. I try to push them in the right direction, to give them what they need. Sometimes it's even what they wish for, but not always."
I don't ask what she sensed in me. It seems too personal, too private. I still wish to have her hands in my hair again, that much I know at least.
"Why were you barefoot?"
"It helps sometimes, to ground me," she says quietly. "And I couldn't find my slippers."
We sit in silence for a while, but it doesn't feel awkward. Not until she yawns widely, at least. I should have thought about that, the potion often makes people sleepy. I don't want to leave her alone but I cannot stay, either. It would definitely not be proper.
"Do you need more assistance?" I ask, trying to find a reason to stay.
"Not tonight, I think," she says. "Thank you… Severus."
I'm getting goose bumps again, the room must be draughty. "He ruined a lot of your products, do you need to make more?"
She shrugs. "Maybe tomorrow, I don't know right now." Gingerly she rises to stand next to the chair and then takes a slow step forward, visibly relaxing when it doesn't hurt.
Of course she wouldn't know. "May I come here tomorrow, then, to assist you with that?"
I can almost, almost sense her eyes on me, focused on mine. "Would you really?"
I nod, sharply, and move to the door. "Of course. See you in the morning, then."
I leave, reluctantly, and step back outside into the rain. It seems oddly fitting. When I return home it is as if half my mind is left with her, and I don't understand how that happened.
