Thanks to Beccs for my first review on this story! Good reviews make me write, you know, and bad ones let me know what to fix. (Hint hint ;-P ) Also, see if you can catch the Alan Rickman related reference in this chapter. For those who do recognize it, I apologize. I just had to do it. Let's see. . . The origin of our title today is a song from Revolutionary Girl Utena. Listen to it if you get a chance. You know the disclaimers, loves. Now read on. Have fun!

Ladymage Samiko ;)

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Listen for My Heart

Part 2 ~ When Where Who Which

Severus Snape was puzzled. It was not something he was accustomed to, but at the moment it seemed to be unavoidable. It was now November, chill and dark, and everything was going well. Too well, according to Severus Snape. For one thing, he had expected at least some action from Lord Voldemort's followers, yet nothing had happened. It was a welcome change, but made him all the more nervous as to just when Voldemort would strike. Not that one could tell from looking at him. If anything, he seemed a little more surly than usual, but that was all.

One other thing bothered him constantly: Eiluneth Pierce. She was an odd one, certainly, and in a community of odd folk, that was saying quite a bit. She seemed to be quite at home with magic, though he never saw her practice any spells herself, but she never appeared to be quite at ease with wizards, often fading away into the background when she had to appear in a social setting. She did, however, seem to be having a good effect on that miserable Longbottom. He was doing much better in all of his classes. It was a miracle that Snape, for one, was extremely grateful for. She was extraordinarily good with potions, able to concoct anything anyone could throw at her. Eiluneth was also extremely good with magical creatures. Actually, she was too good.

It had been late October when Hagrid, true to form, had imported a creature he was having trouble with. And, of course, anyone else in his right mind would never even try tackling a hydra. But that was Hagrid for you. Hagrid was also one of the few people at the school Eiluneth seemed to feel comfortable with. The odd animals he usually had around never seemed to faze her. So Snape supposed it was only natural that Hagrid would ask the only other person with a knack for animals for help. Still (perhaps he was just feeling especially paranoid that day), he decided to shadow the pair as they made their way to the enclosure.

"That's 'er," rumbled Hagrid, his voice proud as he displayed the twenty-foot, nine headed snake. "Ain't she a beauty?" With the hydra's ruby eyes and sapphire-blue scales, his pride was understandable, if somewhat. . . misplaced.

"She's gorgeous," Eiluneth breathed, sounding sincere enough to startle Professor Snape. But that wasn't as startling as what happened next. Her hands outstretched, Eiluneth walked towards the hydra, seemingly oblivious of the nine sets of gleaming fangs. Snape smothered a yell. Was the woman mad? Or merely suicidal? Then he heard her voice speaking softly; he was just able to make out words. If he had been a nervous man, he would have fainted.

The woman was speaking Parseltongue.

Snape didn't know the language himself, but he knew the sound of it and he knew the sound of a conversation when he heard it. Eiluneth and the nine heads conversed for several minutes, the words punctuated by the girl's giggles. When she finally left the enclosure, she was smiling brilliantly and stopped to give the hydra a final pat.

"She's incredible, Hagrid!" she said. "Did you know she's over five hundred years old? Of course, each head is a different personality and they like to be addressed individually; I'll write all the names down for you. But they will all answer to their family name, Silvus, too."

"Thank ye, Miss Eiluneth," rumbled Hagrid. "I don' know what I would've done without ye."

"Bah! You have a fair hand with them yourself, Hagrid. They like you very much already. Now, just remember, when you feed them. . ."

The voices trailed off as the two entered Hagrid's cottage, leaving a very perturbed Snape in their wake.

Severus spent several days trying to reconcile all of the facts he had learned about the young woman. In the end, he nearly threw up his hands in despair. Nothing fit, curse it! Everything he knew contradicted everything else. With the amount of magic she used, he would suspect that she was a Muggle or a squib, at best. But she could mix Potions with the best of them, knew her Herbology inside-out, and dealt with magical creatures without a qualm. Her demeanor suggested she was nothing more than a quiet, shy country girl. But Snape remembered a saying from somewhere: "It's always the quiet ones. . ." and she spoke Parseltongue, which indicated more than a passing familiarity with the Dark Arts. Besides, if she was a witch, why hadn't he had the teaching of her at Hogwarts? It was the only wizarding school in Great Britain, after all. She hadn't given any indication of having been to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang or even that ridiculous little American school he could never remember the name of. But if she wasn't a witch, how did she know everything that she did? It was enough to make a man dizzy.

In the end, he decided one of the few sensible things he could do was try to talk to the girl and see if he could winkle a few things out of her.

It was late the next day when he decided to go, late enough so that her session with Longbottom would be over. When he reached the door to her rooms, he paused. How did he want to begin? "Are you a Dark wizard?" was a trifle too blunt. "How are your classes going?" would sound ridiculous coming from him. He was not known for his prowess at small talk. Really, this entire charade was ridiculous! One would think that he, who had survived only because of his ability to think quickly, would have at least thought this out a little more! He stood outside Eiluneth's door, quietly cursing himself and the entire situation.

A voice broke through his irritation. "Professor Snape? If you're quite finished lurking outside my door, you're perfectly welcome to enter. It's not locked."

Snape was so surprised, it was a few seconds before he opened the door. "How did you know I was there?" he demanded. "That door is at least four inches thick!" And he had made almost no noise and was sure that there had been no listening charms.

Eiluneth, who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, her eyes closed, smiled serenely. "I heard you nonetheless, Professor. I was "Listening," a technique I learned when I was a lass. Not many people practice it, but I find it. . .useful."

"Useful," Snape repeated, disbelief and sarcasm clear in his voice. "Sitting on the floor, listening to an empty room, is useful."

"You'd be surprised, Professor," she replied, still serene, "and amazed at the things you'd know if you'd just Listen."

"Quite," he drawled. "Perhaps I would hear a mouse on the far side of the room?"

"What I hear would tell me you're not as nasty as you'd like me to think you are," Eiluneth answered.

"What would give you that impression, O Wise Sage?" Snape sneered.

"You wouldn't be hiding a ferenicca under that mess of hair otherwise," she told him calmly, looking him in the eye.

"What?" Snape's hand flew to the back of his neck as he stepped back, off-balance. His pet ferenicca slid from under his fingers to peer out from the curtain of hair.

She was a small thing, no more than eight inches or so. Ferenicca rather resembled a cross between a snake and a weasel, with long, slim bodies covered with fur, triangular heads, and four tiny legs. Silca was black, blending in with his robes and hair. She tended to be something of a chameleon.

Eiluneth said something and it was a few seconds before Severus realized she had spoken in the bastardized form of Parseltongue that Silca knew and, unlike Parseltongue, was relatively simple to learn.

The ferenicca flowed down his body to greet the stranger. "I am Silca," she said imperiously.

"Silca, I am Eiluneth," the woman replied. "You are well?" The ferenicca replied in the affirmative and inquired after her. The conversation continued quietly, punctuated a few giggles from Eiluneth and a few hisses from Silca that were her form of laughter.

Severus drifted to a chair in the corner of the room, feeling oddly bereft. It was strange not to have Silca near him. She had been his constant companion for a long time. His only companion.

He looked up to find Eiluneth standing in front of him. Silca, now rose-coloured, unwound herself from the woman's wrist to flow back up to his neck, butting her head against his chin a few times to remind him that she was there and that was where she wanted to be.

"She's lovely," Eiluneth commented softly. "She loves you very much."

Which was not a topic Snape cared to discuss. "That was a form of Parseltongue," he said abruptly. "How do you know it? No one does."

"You do," she stated. "Silca said you talk to her."

"But she's my familiar," he replied. "You have no reason to know it."

She turned to look at a blank space on the wall. "I can speak to all animals," she said quietly. "I was born with the gift."

"I have never heard of that happening," Snape said baldly.

"I know," she told him, still looking into the distance. "No one has."

Silca softly bit his ear--a sign for him to leave well enough alone. "How did you 'hear' Silca?" he asked instead. "No one else has ever known she was there before."

"It's another talent I have," Eiluneth said in an offhand manner. "Mostly it's meditation, but true Listening takes time to learn. Some have a gift for it, like myself, others have to work much harder. And it's not often taught. So, few people practice."

"It sounds intriguing," Snape said smoothly. "Would you, perhaps, show me how it is done?"

There was a flash of something--fear, perhaps?--in her eyes before she considered him thoughtfully. "I suppose," she said slowly. "You can't do it yourself, but you can Listen through me, if you're willing."

"By all means," he replied. "What would you have me do?"

"Hmm. . . It would be best, I think, if you were to sit here on the floor. As comfortably as you can."

Snape raised an elegant, expressive eyebrow as he complied, taking a seat cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Eiluneth looked at him, puzzled, then moved to drag on of the large, stuffed footstools behind him. "Why do men have to be so bloody tall?" she muttered.

"I apologize sincerely for not having been born a midget," Snape replied caustically.

"If all men were midgets," she told him smartly, "the human species would never reproduce. Now," she continued before he had a chance to reply, "I want to to sit still and breathe slowly." She sat on the footstool, as close to him as she could, and placed her fingers at his temples. Snape started violently. Hiding her dismay--she hadn't done that much!--Eiluneth said briskly, "Do you think I'm going to murder you or something? Now keep still, Professor."

"It has been known to happen," Snape remarked drily, before settling back down. Truth be told, it was the first time anyone had touched him willingly and without disgust in a very long time.

"Now, breathe in. Out. In. Out." It was the same beginning she had used with Neville; it always began the same way. Whether one was simply calming oneself or using the higher techniques. "Listen," she instructed softly. "Listen for the sound of your breathing. The sound of your heart."

"According to most people," Snape murmured, "I don't have one."

"You're delaying," she informed him quietly. "Of course you have a heart. You should let it out to play more often." Startled once again, Severus nearly broke the tranquility, but Eiluneth brought him sharply back. "Now concentrate," she said firmly. When she felt him drop into the pattern she was so familiar with, she continued. This was the difficult part.

"Alright. Now I want you to listen for the sound of my heart. Concentrate on that sound." This was something she had practiced only once before, with a friend she knew well. Now, Eiluneth had not only to direct Professor Snape's journey, but control her own trance.

"I can hear it," he whispered, every word sounding to him like a shout.

"Good," she replied quietly. "I'm beginning now and I'll take you with me. Just concentrate on that sound."

The dark man listened, hearing Silca's faint rustles, refocussing his attention on Eiluneth. He felt the light pressure of her fingers, followed it to the sound of her. He heard her breathing quiet, her heartbeat become impossibly slow, barely moving blood through her system. His concentration, the strain to hear that sound, became an acute awareness of her. Quietly, almost imperceptably, he slipped into her conciousness.

Good, he felt her say, felt her calm elation at their success. Now listen through me, through my conscious.

His world suddenly broadened, encompassing an amazing territory that he 'saw' not with his eyes, but with his ears. He heard the sounds of ants as they trooped across the window sill. The stealthy tread of Mrs. Norris several cooridors down. A student frantically flipping through a book in the Library in the opposite wing of the castle. Seamus, he knew. Somehow, Eiluneth was able to translate each and every faint sound to create an 'image' of who it was. Their awareness covered the entire castle; he heard the students, the professors, the very walls themselves.

I do not hear the Headmaster, he noted.

He is the Headmaster, she replied simply. I respect his privacy. I think, she added, it is time we returned. It is. . .difficult. . . to carry you with me.

And with that, Severus found that he waas slowly trickling back into himself; drop by drop, his consciousness became once more wholly his own. When he had returned, he felt Eiluneth's fingers fall. He turned to face her. She looked calm, but slightly tired.

"That was incredible," he breathed. For once, he felt at peace with the world. "You are a truly talented witch, Miss Pierce. You have great gifts."

"Do I?" she questioned vaguely. "I suppose I do. But I wonder, sometimes, if I would not give them all up for the kind of power you have."

He was brought back to himself with a vengeance. "You do not want what I have, Miss Pierce," he told her sharply. "It has only brought me misery."

"Has it now?" she asked him. "Only misery? Has your gift never brought you a moment's joy?"

He began to deny it, and stopped. "What kind of witch are you?" he demanded.

She looked up at him, her normally bright eyes sad and exhausted. "I'm just a woman, Professor Snape," she replied. "Just a woman."

With that, she made her way slowly and haltingly to her bedroom, closing the door silently behind her.