Somehow, Severus got the impression that ha'd goaded Hannah into doing something she'd wanted to do anyway, and he found it marginally amusing. Leaning back into his chair, he braced his elbows on the arms and steepled his fingers, watching her carefully over the tops of his fingertips. There was something graceful, and serious in her movements; a surety that marked a master. He was familiar with mastery. On the parchment in front of her, the chart began to materialize, first as a series of three concentric circles, then a line marking the diameter. She consulted a hefty book she'd placed aside on the table, and he watched as she flipped, seemingly randomly, through it. Whatever she was flipping past, though, seemed to mean something to her, and soon another line was bisecting the first, at an angle.
"And what is that?" he asked, the same tone he used to quiz his students from time to time. To his surprise, she answered, and there was no edge of defensiveness to her voice.
"The Medium Coeli," she pointed at the top of the circle where the line intersected the outermost ring, "and the Immum Coeli. Better known as the Midheaven and Nadir." He nodded, feeling alarmingly out of his element, and watched silently again as she divided each of the four pie shapes into three equal slices. She consulted another book, and made a small notation on the far left corner of the chart, then began dotting in additional lines, in blue ink, and soon the drawing was beginning to take shape. He leaned forward, despite himself, and watched as she capped her ink and chose another bottle, this one crimson to stand out against the black she'd been using. She wrote a careful 'AC' on the edge of the circle, then across from it, wrote 'DC', then labled the top 'MC' and the bottom 'IC', and then began filling in symbols and making notes on the page at her elbow. He moved his chair so he could read what she wrote, and couldn't help but be marginally impressed by how well she ignored his presense.
Sun, 10° Cap she wrote. Moon, 1° Can. Mercury, 7° Cap. She snorted softly as she penned in Venus, and he found himself wondering why, bristling a bit as he imagined various insults, though he couldn't see what was so bad about Venus at 25° Aquarius. Then again, he'd never paid much attention in the one divination class he'd taken. She nodded thoughtfully as she penned in Jupiter and Saturn, and Pluto was accompanied by another snort, which prompted her to pause for a moment and look at something closely, then look up at him, her brow suddenly furrowing. He had the most ridiculous urge to hide from her. After all the planets were noted, she went back down the list, making numerical notations beside the list she'd been compiling. Neptune gained a '1', and Mercury a '2'. The sun, Jupiter and Saturn each took on a '3' and Venus a '4'. She looked at him again after making that notation, and there was something different in her eyes this time, something he'd never seen. Her perusal of him was brief, though, and he watched as she added her notations to the moon (with another pause) and Mars, then scribbled the rest of them into place. Her hand went back to the top of the page, and she dotted the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Venus and Mars, and then put down her quill and leaned back, studying him again.
"It isn't healthy, you know," she spoke softly, and he felt a shiver pass down his spine.
Stop it, he ordered himself, this is how these 'seers' work. They offer a tidbit like that, and hope you take the bait and tell them what isn't healthy. Everyone has something in his life that isn't healthy, and there's know way she knows yours. Not from a few scribbles on parchment. "Indeed."
She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," she repeated, and it had an air of finality to it, like the answer to his rhetorical question. Thee was another pause, weighty, almost pregnant, then a question that surprised him marginally. "Who was she?"
She? Severus frowned slightly, but said nothing. She can't possibly know.
If she did know, she dropped the subject, thankfully, but the next words she spoke were no more comforting. "Just because one person hurt you, Severus, is no reason to shut out the world. No matter how deep that hurt is." For a dreadful moment, he just stared at her, and she looked back, though he had the impression that her eyes were not stopping at his face. Automatically, he closed his mind to her, but to no end; it was not his mind she was reading, but his soul, and he felt raw and exposed suddenly. Then, abruptly, she looked away.
"I'll work on this later," she said softly. "I need to finish marking these..." He nodded, not daring to try and speak past the lump in his throat. "I'll finish it as soon as I can," she said, with the air of a promise, as though she were promising something likely to save his life. He rather thought she was going to try and end it instead. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
"Severus, I..." his eyes flung open again, and his breath caught on the lump in his throat as he stared at her hand, which was lying atop his. He stood abruptly.
"I have a class," he said pointlessly, and turned on his heel, walking out of the staffroom.
As it turned out, Aislinn did not put the chart aside after Snape had left the staffroom, and, she was up most of the night making notes about it, the interpretation rolling from her quill as though it had a mind of its own. The first thing she found was that, oddly enough, she couldn't seem to be objective about the chart, and every time she wrote his name, she paused, thinking abuot the Potions Master and what he would think when he read it. Finally, she stopped trying, and instead of referring to him as Severus, or Snape, or even S, she fell into a technique she often advised her students to use. Refer to your subject as that-- 'the subject'. It is easier to write difficult things about 'the subject' than it is to write about your friends. She found her belief in that technique reinforced as she began to use it herself.
The subject, she wrote, is a Capricorn, with Scorpio rising. The activity is grouped largely in the third and fourth houses, with smaller groups in the eighth and tenth. A stellium of Mercury, the Sun, Jupiter, Saturn and Juno forms an powerful network in Capricorn, filling the Mercury-ruled third house with energy. This placement suggests a need for control. The combination of Saturn and Mercury is noteworthy; these are not two planets which work well together. Mercury is quick-minded and quick-witted, fleet-footed and ever-changing, while Saturn imposes limits that Mercury does not appreciate. This uneasy partnership would suggest a love of riddles and wordplay, and a difficulty plainly expressing what is meant.
Juno and Jupiter in the Third House as well would indicate an unpleasant mix of feelings. While alone, either Jupiter or Juno is a harbinger of fortune, when coupled together they are at their worst, producing a tendency towards bickering. (When Severus read that, it was his turn to snort) That all of this is in Capricorn, which is also the sun sign and therefore of even greated importance, would also suggest a certain tactless, taciturn wit; Capricorn is not known for sparing feelings.
This gathering of powerful energy is set up in an inexact opposition to the Moon, which is hidden deep in the inner reaches of the eighth house, of secrets, just peeking into Cancer. A Cancer moon is one of the most deeply feeling moons in the heavens, a moon that needs protection from the dangers that lurk around every corner. The Cancer moon has a need to be nurtured, but tucked away in the eighth house, it is unlikely that the subject is willing to express this need. (It was here that Aislinn vowed to herself to be kinder to the gloomy Professor Snape.) Indeed, when set in oppostion to Mercury in Capricorn, it is likely that the subject utilizes biting wordplay to drive off potential sympathy; Cancer moon is deeply afraid of being hurt.
This moon, which is conjunct Mars and therefore energized by the red planet's vigor, is also part of a Grand Trine encompassing an Aquarain Venus and a Scorpio Neptune. Aquarius is not the most natural position for beauty-loving Venus, and does not lend itself to romanticism in this chart, yet there is still a connection to the other feminine energies in the chart. This Water Trine should not be ignored, as doing so would be to underestimate the subject's ability to feel and to love. Granted, it is likely easy to do just that; Aquarian Venus is too preoccupied with matters of the mind to listen to matters of the heart, and Cancer moon is too afraid of being hurt to emerge into the world alone. A Scorpion-ruled Neptune provides the defenses that the Moon needs to hide, and the Aquarian Venus justifies them splendidly. It is, perhaps, to be expected that the subject seems far too prickly to be human.
As she dotted a period at the end of that sentence, Aislinn leaned back, folding her arms across her stomach, her heart aching for a man whom she now believed to be just short of a prisoner of his own fear of rejection. A tear slipped down her cheek, rolling off her chin as she remembered the things she and her classmates had said about him when they were students at Hogwarts. She wished fervently that she could take those things back now, and treat him with a little more compassion. Taking a steadying breath, she dipped her quill in the ink pot again.
If there is not enough isolation in the chart already courtesy of the Moon and Neptune, there is an additional source in the tenth house. The MC is in Leo, which suggests a strong need for recognition, and with Uranus cutting the MC's path, there is little doubt that the subject has no qualms about using unconventional means to gain recognition. It is worth noting here that it is not power that the subject seeks, but recognition. A Leonine Midheaven will be devastated if it is not recognized and praised for a job well done, and, as there are no balancing factors present in the chart, it is likely that the subject reverts to his general prickly defenses when he does not feel he is being properly respected.
The influence of Pluto in the tenth house in Virgo suggests a certain compulsive orderliness, and, in sextiles with the Moon and Neptune, there is a tendency for this compulsive orderliness to be obsessive even, perhaps even to the point that his mental health suffers when his sense of orderly comfort is disrupted.
Almost as stunning as the activity regions of the chart are the areas that are left entirely blank. There is not one planet influencing the Fifth, Sixth or Seventh Houses, which are the Houses most closely associated with other people. The Fifth House, often associated with lovers and children and passion in general, is disturbingly untouched, as is its neighbor, Virgo-ruled Sixth House which governs the subject's sense of altruism, as well as his awareness of his own health. The Seventh House of partnership is also empty, again reinforcing that the subject is likely a very lonely man.
Severus winced as he read those lines, and then read them again. There was nothing earth-shattering in the revelation that he was lonely, of course, but something about seeing it written made him wish it were not true. Of couse, he was alone by choice, by and large. He didn't want people bothering him... Afraid to feel?
The sole influence in the First House is Neptune, which once again does not bode well for the subject. Neptune is the planet least grounded in reality, and, with such a prominent placement (not to mention the aspects it forms with so many planets), one must question how realistic the subject's view of himself is. Neptune has a gift for seeing what it wants to see (or, in some cases doggedly seeing what it does not want to see) and Neptune's challenge will always be to confront reality.
Severus paused at that, and re-read it several times. Was she saying he had an unnecessarily harsh personal image, or that he had a tendency towards turning a blind eye to his reputation and thereby seeing himself more positively than he should? He mulled that over in his mind for a moment. He set the parchment aside. He'd had enough.