By the time noon had rolled around, Severus had awarded a dozen detentions and made three students cry with his biting remarks, and one would have been hard-pressed to say who was more relieved that it was lunchtime—Professor Snape or his unfortunate students. Not desiring a repeat of the distractions at breakfast, Severus caught one of the House Elves and requested a meal be taken to the staff room for him, then made his way to that location, intending a solitary and quiet meal.

As he approached the staff room, though, Severus heard muffled voice inside, though there was a volume to them that suggested they were raised. He hesitated for a moment outside the door, deciding whether or not to intrude, and trying to discern who was in there and what was being discussed so loudly. It was little use, though, and had anyone passed, they might have found it decidedly odd that Professor Snape was standing outside the staff room with his ear to the door, eavesdropping for all intents and appearances. He could make out little beyond the fact that there were at least two people in the room, and one of them, he thought, was a woman.

"Please, stop it."

That was clear enough and distinct enough to make Severus frown slightly at the door. He was certain that voice belonged to Aislinn and…

"Jordan, please! I've already told you…"

Severus didn't wait for another word, but flung the door open, allowing it to bang against the wall. He was half-expecting to find Aislinn trapped, tied up, pinned to the wall, something to indicate she was being held against her will. Fortunately for Mickery, though, and unfortunately for Severus' temper, the divination teacher was seated in a wingback chair and apparantly there of her own free will. At least, he could see nothing keeping her there if she didn't want to be there.

Mickery, however, was still being enough of a prick to make Severus' blood boil.

"What do you want, Snape?" he asked pointedly.

Severus walked into the room, leaving the door open. "I was hoping to have a meal away from the juvenile antics of adolescents who need to prove their virility by preying on those weaker, but I suppose I will have to settle for having that meal in the company of one instead of two hundred." He dropped into a chair near Aislinn and gave her a tight smile. "And how are you, Miss Ichalia?"

For a moment, he thought she was going to ignore him, but she smiled instead. "Fine," she replied, her voice sounding strained though. "Just peachy." She stood abruptly and divided a glare between Severus and Jordan. "I do hope you two can manage not to kill each other. I seem to have lost my appetite. Excuse me." And she was gone, the door shutting softly behind her.

As soon as the door had clicked shut, Severus stood and stalked over to stand directly in front of the chair Mickery occupied, then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. "I don't know what she was telling you to stop," he whispered dangerously, "but whatever it was, I hope you listened to her. It would behoove you to stay away from her. If I so much as suspect that you are doing anything to harm her, you will rue the day you came to Hogwarts. Is that clear?"

Mickery, in the unfortunate position he was in, had little room to protest, but was stubbornly silent on the matter.

"Give me half a reason, Mickery," Severus hissed, "and that will be twice what I need. I already hate you, if you had somehow missed the fact, and if Aislinn—or anyone else—has to ask you twice not to do something, then you are hardly improving my opinion of you."

The door opened, and Severus straightened as a House Elf brought in a plate of food and a goblet of some sort of juice on a tray. Severus gestured towards the table in the middle of the room, and, after the tray had been deposited and the deliverer had bowed away, he settled himself to look at the food. Two thick slices of prime rib, an utterly unappetizing pile of carrots that looked overcooked and a pale yellow liquid that smelled suspiciously like punpkin juice—normally Severus would have chosen not to eat rather than consume suchpoor excuses for food, but hungry as he was he didn't find that he was overly picky. Even if the meat did turn out to be barely cooked and the punpkin juice exceptionally sweet. Hearing the door click to a shut behind him, Severus sighed with relief, finally alone in the room. He had no more than picked up his fork, it seemed, before he had cleaned his plate.

The rest of the afternoon went somewhat more smoothly, aided in part by the fact that Severus' stomach no longer felt liks an abused and hollow receptacle and in part by the fact that he had two of his NEWT classes today. NEWT classes were always somewhat more enjoyable than the pre-OWL classes, as those who continued with Potions beyond their fifth year were there by choice. And were talented students. Not, of couse, that the students found much comfort in that, as Severus simply raised his expectations of them, knowing now what they were capable of.

When the day finally ended, Severus spent a moment checking the contents of his cupboards, reviewing his lesson plans for the next day and glancing over the detention schedule. He had three detentions that evening, right after dinner, and knew just the task for them—the Third Years would be using blood from toad livers in their next potion, and extracting that blood was always time consuming. It should take the three students close to three hours to wring enough for the lesson. This decided, Severus swept into his office, intending a few moments' pleasurable reading before he went to the Great Hall for dinner.

It had been a bloody long day for Aislinn, not helped much by the fact that despite having gotten more sleep than she had in one night in years, she was still fighting to keep her eyes open. Bloody man and his bloody potions, she thought irritably for the hundredth time as she stifled a yawn. If I'd known there was a sleeping draught in that, I would have never taken it. Her thoughts had a certain conviction to them, but she knew in the back of her mind that as badly as her head had been aching last night, she would have taken anything, including a deadly poison, if it meant the pain would cease. She supposed she really ought to talk to Madame Pomfrey about it, but she just couldn't bring herself to make time for it. That, at least, was her excuse, and a handy one at that.

As she pushed her way into the Great Hall, Aislinn frowned slightly for a moment, noticing first that Jordan was sitting in his usual place, his eyes fixed on her the moment she walked through the door. Aislinn was legendary in her inability to judge character; she was forever assuming people were good, when they were not always. Jordan, she was quickly deciding, was one of those she had given too much credit for kindness. He was increasingly irritating, a thorn in her side who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Rather like someone else you know? Asked a critical voice.

Ah, yes, just what she needed. A reminder that she was at the apex of a love triangle between two men whom she didn't love and didn't pretend to love and didn't want to love. And both seemed intent on ignoring the fact that she'd told them both very pointedly that she was uninterested. Men had a singularly annoying way of hearing what they wanted to hear, and while Jordan had heard that Aislinn was uninterested in Severus, and Severus had heard that she was uninterested in Jordan, she was not sure that either of the two was fully cognizant of the fact that she was uninterested in either of them. And so they were constantly squaring off, like a pair of rams locking horns.

This afternoon, however, had been the first time that Jordan had not taken 'no' as an answer to anything that began with 'would you like to'. She'd had a bloody hard time convincing him that she really did not want to go anywhere with him this weekend, least of all Paris, and, had Severus not banged into the room, Aislinn still wasn't sure if she would have won that particular argument. She had a bad habit of saying 'yes' so people would leave her alone, but she was loathe to admit that Severus had most likely rescued her from an interminably long weekend of batting away Jordan Mickery's affections.

Her eyes left Jordan and skipped to Severus' place at the table, and her frown returned momentarily. He wasn't there. That was quite odd indeed. In the three months she'd been at Hogwarts as a teacher, and in the seven years in which she was a student, she didn't think she could ever remember Severus Snape missing occasions in the Great Hall. He was always there, watching like a panther for misbhaving students, and, given the events of this morning when there were no teachers in the Great Hall during a meal, she doubted he would have abandoned the evening meal to the same fate. As she settled herself in her seat, engaging in a lively conversation with Flitwick so she could have an excuse to avoid talking to Jordan, Aislinn let her attention wander slightly to what was keeping Severus.

Only because it is unusual for him not to be here, she reminded herself quickly, as though protesting an accusation that no one had made that she had other reasons for wondering where he was. That's it, Aislinn, she chided herself, if you have no reason to look guilty, create one. She finished her meal in relative silence, then headed back to her office, locking the door, for some much needed time alone with a stack of essays.

She lost herself in the explanations of outer planet transits through ruling houses, and before she realized what had happened, an hour's worth of sand had slipped through her glass. She paused for a moment, leaning back in her chair and stretching with her arms high above her head, her mouth stretched open wide in a hearty yawn. She heard laughter, and smiled to herself as she bent back to the paper she was marking, reading another six inches of it before her head popped up again and she frowned. Laughter? She shouldn't be able to hear laughter from any of the Towers, and if she did, it would certainly be accompanied by more of a roar of general noise. She strained her ears and listened, and heard it again, and would have sworn that it originated from directly below her.

From the dungeons? Aislinn couldn't imagine what could be so amusing about the dungeons, but she could imagine Severus' response if he found a gathering of students down there having fun. With a slight shudder, Aislinn decided it was time for a break, and she stood, smoothing her robes and heading out of her office. Her heeled shoes clicked loudly on the stone floor as she made her way down to the dungeons, and she stopped short, staring in confusion at the three students who were sitting on the floor outside Severus' office.

"What are you three doing down here?" she asked, resisting the urge to hiss furtively.

As one, they scrambled to their feet, and one of the students, a Fourth-Year Hufflepuff girl had the grace to look abashed. The other two, though, Fifth-Year boys from Gryffindor, were grinning jauntily, and Aislinn suspected it was just as well that she had interrupted whatever was going on. "We have detention, Professor," one of the boys said.

"Then where is Professor Snape?"

"Buggered if I know!" It was the other boy who spoke this time, and Aislinn had a hard time not laughing at the expression that crossed his face as he reailzed what he'd just said. His companion had obviously realized what he said as well, as he elbowed him in the ribs.

Aislinn cleared her throat softly. "I see," she said when she trusted herself not to laugh as she spoke. "Well, all of you, go back to you common rooms. I will tell Professor Snape that you were on time. I would suggest," she lifted her voice, capturing their attention again as they had been too busy exchanging triumphant looks for her to really believe that they were listening, "that you all be where he can find you. He might well just be running late and wish you to serve your detentions anyway. Off with you now."

They had all looked marginally deflated, but they left quickly. Even a delay in their punishment was, apparently, worthy of celebration. Aislinn was left to wonder if detentions with Severus were any different now than they had been ten years ago; she shuddered involuntarily at the memory of slicing bat brains for three hours for him. And, that raised another interesting question. Where was he? He hadn't been at dinner, and now was late for a detention he had assigned? Must unlike him indeed. Aislinn was beginning to grow worried.

She shoved the worry from her mind, though, telling herself that he was a grown man, and, if he had any sense he was probably in Hogsmeade getting drunk. She knew that if she were as lonely as he seemed to be, she would spend a great deal of time with a bottle of single malt whiskey, though somehow she couldn't quite imagine him getting that inebriated. Forcing herself to put it from her mind, she returned to her office and her stack of parchment.

Three hours and twenty papers later, she looked up and stretched again. It was nearly eleven now, which meant it was late enough to justify going to bed, so she swirled her quill in alcohol to cleanse the crimson ink from it, capped the jar of ink and set aside the papers. As she stood, she stretched lazily, clasping her hands high above her head and imagining a string that went through her head and spine which she gave a determined yank. The reward was instant as she stretched just a little higher, and then relaxed, feeling almost liquid. As she left her office, she whispered 'Nox' and the lights all flicked out.

She slipped back to her rooms and undressed quickly, crawling into her bed which seemed to embrace her as she sank into it. She closed her eyes, and sleep came quickly tonight, though it was a fitful sleep full of disturbing images that culminated in a pain so real that she sat up gasping, her heart pounding and her hair soaked from sweat. It took her a moment to convince her that it had been only a dream, and, as she settled again, it took longer for sleep to find her this time. It was once again fitful and dream-filled, but the images of violence were absent this time, replaced instead by a parade of half-formed pictures that were instantly replaced by a stream of even less well-formed visions.

The visions slowed, and she could finally see them, faces appearing one at a time. A stern-faced man with a hooked nose, a heavy jaw and a sneer that made Severus' face look friendly. That man faded and was replaced by a sad-face but pretty, delicately-boned woman with shining black hair and brilliantly green eyes. That image gave way to an elderly woman with sparkling eyes and laugh lines around her mouth. A blond child with his face turned trustingly upwards, hands reaching up as though to be held; an older child with eyes widened in horror; a golden-haired woman with eyes affixed in terror. One by one they appeared, but each faded, and Aislinn, even in her dream, didn't know who most of them were. Finally, there was a face that stayed, and one she recognized.

He was younger, his face less gaunt though still terribly thin, his eyes were intent and hard already, but they didn't have the weight of the years to them yet. He looked sad, and determined not to be sad, and Aislinn's heart ached for him. She watched as, before her eyes, he seemed to grow older and older, his face tightening around his skull until it looked like a rubber mask stretched over a skeleton. A fierce desolation crept into his eyes, his mouth seemed to be dragged down into the constant scowl she knew. He finally disappeared, as though she'd closed her eyes. He didn't reappear, though, but an oddly familiar room came into focus, and she was sitting in the middle of Severus' office, her hand clutched around a bottle of wine.

Aislinn's eyes sprang open, and she looked around, assuring herself that she was still in her own rooms. Slowly, she pulled herself out of bed, sleep still threatening to pull her back into the lingering warmth of her blankets, but she shrugged into a dressing gown of black velvet embroidered with scrolls of gold and crimson. She shoved her feet into slippers, and groped along the wall for her door. It was probably just a dream she was telling herself as her hand found the doorknob, but you know you won't have another moment of sleep tonight until you know for sure.

She stumbled through the dark corridors and made her way down flights of stairs, cutting a direct path to the dungeons. As she stood at the top of the stairs to the dungeon, she noted with a sinking heart that there was, indeed, a light burning down there, casting a faintly golden glow on the stone walls and floors. I wish I'd checked the time, she thought idly as she hesitated, trying to decide whether or not to go on to Severus' office. She was concerned about him, that he'd disappeared all evening and now, if her dream was correct, was working on a neat hangover courtesy of cabernet sauvignon. She was also maringally respectful of the fact that he wsan't likely to appreciate an intrusion, and, in all honesty, she was frightened of what sort of drunk he might be, and simultaneously curious as to where he'd been and why he was so hell-bent on forgetting now.

At length, Gryffindor courage (or stupidity or curiosity as the case may be) won out of the swirl of emotions in her heart, and she found herself edging into the dungeons, growing more awake and alert with every step. When she reached the bottom stair, she noted that the door to his office stood slightly ajar, and light was spilling out of it. With a glance over her shoulder and a fervent wish that she hadn't left her wand behind, she approached the door and pushed it open. And gasped at what she saw.

A/N:

Okay, I thought I'd take a moment to respond to a few things I've seen in the reviews.

First, regarding astrology. I am an astrologer, actually, and that was how I came up with the idea for this story. I had a few free hours one afternoon and in a fit of boredom drew up star charts for a few of the HP characters. Snape, and Harry, incidentally, were the only two characters I was truly confident in, as they are the two most developed characters in the novels. I find that rather interesting, as Snape really has a relatively small part in the novels (as compared to say Ron Weasley and Hermione, and even Dumbledore or Malfoy or the Dursleys) but Snape is possibly the most developed character in the series.

I don't know whether Ms. Rowling is an astrologer or not, but I've seen indications in the books that she knows something of the subject, and, if she did use charts for the characters, I think the one for Snape would be very similar to the one I drew up. And, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that she did use this tactic, actually. It's a way to get very real characters, with lots of depth.

So, anyway, I drew up this chart, but didn't know what to do with it. As it turned out, though, the chart told me. In drawing on my own astrology experience (including the reaction I've gotten from people about astrology and how 'stupid' and 'unscientific' it is, I realized that Snape would probably be a skeptic (remember his opening potions speech about the 'subtle science and exact art of potion making', and contrast that to McGonagall's assertion that divination is an imprecise study at best.) and I couldn't help but grin. I've made believers out of a skeptic or two, and I thought it would be a lot of fun to see Snape warming up to a divination teacher who is not a crackpot like Trelawney. So, thus the story idea was born.

Aislinn (that's pronounced "Ash-lin", incidentally, it's a derivitive of 'Aisling', an Irish Gaelic name meaning 'dream' or 'vision'.) Is a character based in part on myself, and in part on a dear friend I have, and part pure fiction. The bit with her changing her name came from my friend, without a doubt, and the explanation behind it was almost verbatim from this friend (who changed her name because she felt trapped by it and unfortunate that she'd had no say in such an important factor in her life, and she didn't think her name suited her, and it was the most liberating experience she'd ever had…) This friend and I are both exceptionally tall (six feet) so that characteristic was a shoo-in. I love the reaction I get from guys when they realize they're eye-level with my lips, and I'll admit to wearing three-inch heels and laughing it up as I hold important reports over my boss' head and make him jump for them.

Aislinn is actually a bit more complex than she seems so far, but I'm not going to reveal how just yet. Or rather, I've already written that chapter, and am trying to bridge the gap to the point where I can use it.

Snape I'm afraid I'm not in agreement with those who portray him as a brooding but handsomely aristocratic charming man who chooses his life of isolation. I'm trying very hard not to romanticize him, while still giving him emotions. That is actually a true part of the chart interpretation I did for him before starting this story—I believe he is Capricorn, which is a sign that has a great deal of restraint. He has a sharp wit, I believe, just not the kind that everyone in the world would find humorous. And, as I think I said somewhere once before in authors notes, I think he is bitter not because he does not have the capacity to feel, but because he feels so deeply and has had to consturuct defenses to shield himself from pain. This is very common with people who have great depth of feeling—an appropriate analogy is the crab, without a hardened shell, it would be so vulnerable that it could not survive the dangers of the sea.

Now, many people who know something of astrology would ask why he isn't Scorpio, because he seems classic Scorpio so often, and my response to that is that it's entirely right. He seems to be Scorpio, though Harry Potter's eyes. Biting, cunning, secretive and vengeful. The fact that this is how Harry sees him suggests that is his rising sign rather than his sun sign (the rising sign controls a person's personality, as opposed to who they are). As a Slytherin, thouh, and as a very demanding Potions Master, and as a man who became a teacher early in his life (and trust me, 22 is young for a teacher. I tried that. It was bloody hard to separate myself from my students when I only had four years on them. They were freshmen when I was a senior, and it would be even worse with Snape. He began teaching at the age of 22, which is four years after graduating from Hogwarts, which indicates that the first two or three years of his career, he was very likely teaching his former classmates. Awkward, yes?) Capricorn is also very ambitious, which sounds a lot like a certain Professor (Order of Merlin, anyone?).

Incidentally, because I thought that Scorpio was rising, and because I assumed Snape was born in England, I found that the midheaven landed conveniently in Leo. The midheaven controls the career, and a Leo Midheaven is one of the traditional indicators of a teacher, and it is also a position that insists on recognition. ("'This may not be an ordinary class, Potter,' said Snape, his eyes narrowed malevolently, 'but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times.')

So, anyway, enough astro-analysis. I'm actually intending a chapter or two of it later on in the fic.

Finally, direction. I hope none of you are reading in hopes of some sappy Hollywood ending. If you are, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed. I'm only borrowing Snape, after all, and I have every intention of leaving him largely as I found him. :ends vague discussion of the end: