As though by magic, the parchments which had littered Severus' desk the previous two days were gone, and the House Elves had been in, polishing the gleaming wood to a mirror-like shine. There was no dust to be found anywhere in the potions master's office, and not a smudge or smear to mar the wood or glass. The hard stools which normally faced his desk had been transfigured into a pair of comfortable wingback chairs, richly upholstered in an opulent shade of emerald green. There was a rug on the floor, a beautifully woven Persian carpet, which had not been there the day before, and the silver candlesticks now held candles which were aglow with tiny flames. A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a warmth about the dungeons that few would have believed could exist. Dressed in his best robes that were not actually dress robes, more care than normal taken with his hair, Severus sat behind his desk, his eyes cast to the single sheet of parchment atop the behemoth surface. The rest of his scrolls and parchments were, of course, tucked into a drawer or else behind a door in one of the cabinets, but for now, at least, his office looked orderly and refined. Not like the office of a man who had spent the last week collecting himself while someone else took his classes.
There was a knock on his door, and he raised his head, quill poised over the parchment he was marking. "Yes?" he called, and the door creaked open, revealing a House Elf who skittered in.
"Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle is being here to see Master Snape, sir," she squeaked, and Severus nodded.
"Very well. Show them in." He capped his bottle of ink and set aside the quill and parchment, rising from his seat as the Carlisles entered. "Mr. Carlisle," Severus nodded to the man, "Mrs. Carlisle. I'm Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. Please, have a seat. Amber has spoken of you both often."
He'd told Amber to have them come visit, though he'd never imagined they would come today, only one day after the invitation was issued. He'd been even more surprised that they hadn't even the decency to announce the visit—they had apparently Apparated into Hogsmeade, and it was only because Dumbledore had a network of informants in the town that Severus had been made aware of their presence in time to make a fervent plea with McGonagall (and on a Quidditch day, no less!) to help him with the necessary transfigurations to make his office more… hospitable. He certainly hadn't the knack for creating something from nothing, and even if he would have been perfectly capable of conjuring a couple of chairs and vanishing a couple of stools, he doubted the end result would have been as tasteful as what Minerva had come up with. Severus had never claimed to be a decorator.
That he knew how to receive guests at all was directly attributable to Lucius Malfoy. Severus had been an awkward, socially inept youth who had come to Hogwarts in possession of absolutely no idea of how to conduct himself. "Would you care for tea or wine?" he asked while the couples arranged themselves in the chairs. "You must be parched after walking from Hogwarts. Had I known you were coming, I would have arranged transportation, or given you directions to Floo directly to the school."
"Nonsense, Professor," Mr. Carlisle said good-naturedly. "It's a lovely day, and we decided we would enjoy the walk we so often took when we were children. It has been years since I'd glimpsed Honeydukes, and I must say it did my memory good."
Severus nodded, wondering with a touch of well-concealed impatience if they wanted something to drink. Mrs. Carlisle answered that question in a melodious voice.
"It was lovely, but I think a cup of tea would not go amiss, if it is not inconvenient."
"Not at all," Severus replied, glancing at the House Elf who had shown them in. "Lissy, fetch tea for our guests, if you please."
The Elf squeaked and curtsied, and darted off, all but running through the corridors in her haste to please. House Elf gone and refreshments seen to, Severus turned his attention to the witch and wizard in front of him. He judged them to be of an age with Molly and Arthur, though they could not have been more different.
Mrs. Carlisle had brown hair, streaked with Grey, pulled away from her face in a sleekly elegant, yet austere bun that reminded Severus of the way Minerva wore her hair. She sat with her spine so straight that it could have been a steel rod, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her face was faintly lined at the corners of her brown eyes and full lips, and coupled with the Grey in her hair, her age was unmistakable, though there was nothing else about her that suggested years. Nor was there anything that suggested youth. She held herself with a formal dignity that brooked no nonsense, and yet, she did not look cruel. Given the way Amber and Aislinn both spoke of her, he had been expecting someone with an evil look in her eyes, but Mrs. Carlisle looked as though she belonged in the world of Malfoys and Blacks and Lestranges. She looked like the sort of woman Severus' own mother had tried to be, but failed so miserably. She looked like he imagined Aislinn would have looked in another twenty years. In fact, if Aislinn's hair had been turning to silver, or if Mrs. Carlisle's eyes were blue, the two of them might have been twins.
It was from Mr. Carlisle, though, that Amber and Aislinn seemed to have inherited their sparkling blue eyes—he had the look of a man who had a secret he delighted in not sharing. He was tall, Severus had noted, and would explain how Aislinn had grown to the point that she could look Severus in the eye. He suspected that if father and daughter were standing side by side, and daughter was wearing her trademark high heels, father would still top her head by an inch or better. He was a robust man, though not as thick and simply big as the Crabbes and Goyles of the world. His hair was almost entirely silver, but there was enough of a shadow to it that Severus suspected it had once been black. He was, in all, a distinguished and, Severus supposed, handsome fellow. The type who made women smile. He seemed positively animated in comparison with the statuesque Mrs. Carlisle, but his movements were sure, not nervous at all, and suddenly Severus found himself wondering if it was possible that these were not parents who were cruel, but parents who were demanding—a distinction Severus understood with crystal clarity.
"Well, Mr. Carlisle, Mrs. Carlisle, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Severus asked, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chest.
"Please, call me Matthew," Mr. Carlisle offered, and Severus nodded. Matthew looked at his wife, and Severus had the distinct impression that it was to her that he owed the pleasure of this visit.
"To be perfectly honest, Professor Snape—"
"Severus," he interjected, and she nodded, much more gracefully than his own nod of acknowledgement had been.
"—We have been concerned about our daughter's education. We have, actually, already decided to remove her from Hogwarts at the end of the term; she has already been accepted to Beauxbatons in the autumn, and we feel it would be an excellent opportunity for her. We are here only because she pleaded with us to come and visit."
Mr. Carlisle leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Amber is an impressionable child," he confided, "and I don't think we're entirely convinced that she's happy here. In fact, she's been writing all year, telling us how unhappy she is. She hasn't many friends, she isn't enjoying her classes, and she doesn't feel there is anyone she can talk to, or turn to."
"It's a precarious age for a child, Professor Snape," Mrs. Carlisle added, and he noted with some portion of his mind that she had declined to address him more familiarly. "And, while I am certain that you do an admirable job as Head of Slytherin, I am not convinced that any man could provide a girl with the guidance she needs to become a woman."
That surprised him. Severus found himself thinking quickly, as suddenly every argument he'd been prepared to make became null in the face of these new concerns. Not, of course, that he could rule out the possibility that there was still a concern about bloodlines, but he could not very well begin reciting his speech about ushering in a new era at Hogwarts, and seeing to it that the students were worthy of their education (a speech he had honed to perfection in the last fifteen years, as he'd given it even more often than he had his opening speech to First Years.)
"I see," he replied neutrally, and breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as there was a knock on his door and then Lissy returned with a tray laden with tea and biscuits. While the House Elf set out the refreshments, Severus had a moment to consider a new approach to the situation. By the time Lissy bowed out of the room and the Carlisles had their tea in their hands, he had decided on a plan of action. "I do apologize for the interruption, please, continue."
They exchanged meaningful looks, and then Mr. Carlisle continued. "Yes, well, I think we have voiced most of our concerns. Amber is unhappy, Professor, and increasingly so, judging by the tone of her letters in the last week, and we won't have her education suffering because she does not fit into a school."
"Please understand, Professor Snape, that we are not here so you may change our minds, but because Amber wished us to come." This was Mrs. Carlisle. "And, quite aside from her own unhappiness, I wish her to be nearer. Hogwarts is exceptionally difficult to come visit, really, and so very far away. I… wish my daughter to be close enough to hug her from time to time, and really, I'm not convinced she will be going to Beauxbatons in the autumn, either. Perhaps private tutors for a year or two, and then we will see how she has progressed." There was a brightness to Mrs. Carlisle's eyes suddenly, and Mr. Carlisle reached for her hand, squeezing it so tenderly that Severus felt for a moment that he was an intruder in his own office.
"We lost our older daughter this spring," Matthew explained quietly. "We weren't even aware she was ill until we had her death notice. We had a… falling out of sorts a few years ago…"
"I need my daughter nearer," Mrs. Carlisle insisted softly, and it had the faint sound of a mantra. "We made so many mistakes with Hannah, and I can't help but think Hogwarts was one of them. She was exposed to entirely too much nonsense here and…" She trailed off, taking a deep breath, and Severus found himself fighting for his own composure.
Matthew placed an arm around his wife's shoulder, and Severus opened his desk drawer, withdrawing a freshly-laundered handkerchief. He'd always kept one in there, but this was the first time he'd had to bring it out twice in two days. First for Amber, and now for Amber's mother. He offered the linen to her, and she accepted it gratefully, dabbing at her eyes as Severus stood and moved around to lean against the desk.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," he said softly, watching them for a moment. Those tears were real. He couldn't begin to imagine what had passed between Aislinn and her mother, but the woman in front of him was grieving, quite honestly, and he could only believe it was for her daughter. "Hannah was a remarkable young woman," he said softly, choosing his words carefully. He had no idea how much they knew.
Mr. Carlisle regarded Severus for a long moment, a frown on his face. "You don't look old enough to have been here when Hannah was here," he commented.
"I was very young when I began teaching," Severus countered. "Hannah was one of my first students."
Mrs. Carlisle was leaning heavily against her husband's arm, Mr. Carlisle rubbing her arm softly. "We made many mistakes with Hannah," she repeated softly. "I made many mistakes with her. I can only blame myself for what happened…"
"…You cannot blame yourself, Elizabeth," Matthew whispered, and again Severus had the uncomfortable feeling that he was intruding. Matthew looked up and offered a brief explanation, "She was ill, as I said before. She'd been ill as a child, but we did not know she had relapsed."
"If I'd kept her at home…"
"If you'd kept her at home," Severus interrupted softly, kneeling in front of Mrs. Carlisle, "she would have been a caged bird, never given the chance to spread her wings. Quite unrelated to the question of Amber staying here, and yet a question running parallel to it, you cannot keep a child from growing up. If I've learned anything, it is that children become adults, despite everyone's best efforts to keep them children. Some grow to ripe old ages, and some die before their time, but Hannah touched many hearts because you let her go. She was happy, Mrs. Carlisle. I know this for a fact."
"You can't know that," she protested, shaking her head. "She was happy as a child, but just after she graduated, I tried to force her into a marriage… but she had her head full of Gryffindor ideals and she simply refused. And when I pressed the issue… she disappeared."
That he had not known, and it differed somewhat from the story Aislinn had told him. A story he had believed without question. It had been many years since he'd believed anything without question, but… There were two sides to every coin. "She was happy, Mrs. Carlisle. I know, because she was teaching here through the autumn term last year, and I had the pleasure of becoming friends with her."
"Hannah was?" Matthew's voice sounded incredulous.
Severus nodded. "She taught Divination. I believe she and Amber became quite close over the course of the autumn, and I believe that her passing might account for a portion of the unhappiness you have sensed in Amber's letters."
"Amber knew her?" Elizabeth asked softly. "That was one of my many regrets—that Amber never knew her sister."
"Amber was coming to know her," Severus replied softly. "I do not know the full extent of their relationship." He moved back to his own chair and sank gratefully into it; the energy required to keep his own emotions in check was increasingly a strain on him.
"Did Amber know she was her sister?" Elizabeth Carlisle asked urgently, and Severus sighed heavily.
"I believe, Mrs. Carlisle, that this is a conversation you might wish to have with Amber. I do not know all the details. I do, however, know that Aislinn's passing has affected Amber greatly."
Matthew nodded. "I'm sure it must have been difficult for Amber, to learn she had a sister, only to have that sister taken away so soon."
"Who is Aislinn?" Mrs. Carlisle looked confused from Professor to husband and back. Mr. Carlisle had the unpleasant look of someone who had just revealed more than he'd intended. Severus could have sliced out his own tongue for such indiscretion, and he was so busy berating himself that it took him a moment to realize that Matthew Carlisle had not missed a beat when Severus spoke of 'Aislinn'.
"Well, ah," Matthew cleared his voice softly. "Hannah changed her name, dear. To Aislinn Ichalia."
"She did what?!" Severus found himself quite glad that the icy glare was not directed at him. "When did this happen?"
"Ah, six years ago or so, I think." Matthew frowned in concentration, and Severus recognized the Ravenclaw looking for a precise fact. It was the first time he'd seen a hint of any House in either of the two adults. A Ravenclaw searching for a fact and missing the point. Elizabeth was fuming silently, her tears suddenly seeming to dry.
"And why, might I ask, did you never inform me of this outrage? Hannah's name should have been a source of pride for her. It represents many long years of…"
"Not now, Elizabeth. It isn't important."
"It most certainly is important that you withheld this information from me. How dare you keep my daughter's little…"
"She was my daughter too, Elizabeth, and I did not tell you because I was afraid that this," Matthew waved irritably, taking in his wife's enraged form, "would be your reaction! I was giving her money, because I did not want her starving on the streets, or stopping to unthinkable levels so she could have food on her table and a roof over her head! She came to me, and I kept her confidence because I was afraid that if you found out, you would bloody well drive her off again."
Once more, Severus was feeling like an intruder, and he very seriously considered leaving the couple to their spat. He wasn't sure if it was an attention to propriety or a distaste of leaving unfamiliar people alone in his office that kept him from excusing himself, or perhaps a bit of both, but he shifted uncomfortably and tried to ignore the unfolding argument.
"That I would drive her off! I only ever wanted what was best for her, and if she'd done as I said, she would never have been in danger of stooping to any level, nor of starving on the streets!"
"She didn't want to marry, Elizabeth," Matthew sounded tired. "She didn't want to marry, and fat lot of good it would have done if she had. There would have been no heir, and you know that as well as I do."
"I know it now, but I didn't know it then, and neither did you and neither did she so don't act as though that should have been a deciding factor. It was her duty to carry on…"
"Codswallop, Beth. It has nothing to do with duty. Or have you forgotten what it was like to be in love, with the world at your feet? Why did you want to deprive her of that?"
"I had the sense to fall in love with the right sort of man," Elizabeth huffed, folding her arms. "Hannah was far too much a dreamer. Who knows what sort of riff-raff would have caught her eye?"
What sort of riff-raff indeed, Severus thought dryly, wondering what Mrs. Carlisle would say if he revealed that he was the sort of 'riff-raff' who had managed to catch her elder daughter's eye? If he'd had any inclination to mention it, though, it was short-lived as he found himself wishing for one of Aislinn's bloody dreams-come-true. Someone please rescue me from this. No such luck. Wishing, it seemed, was the sole property of one deceased Aislinn Ichalia. Barring rescue, he attempted to put his mind from the bickering and onto trying to work out what, precisely, the Carlisles were after.
Aislinn had been rather adamant that her mother was only interested in social promotion, and, from his chair, Severus could see that Elizabeth Carlisle was, indeed, very concerned with her family's social prominence. She was being as much of a bitch about 'pureblood' families as any self-respecting Malfoy or Avery. But, even so, he couldn't help but think that there was more to her than that. Matthew Carlisle seemed to hold many attitudes in common with his wife, but that obsession with blood was not one of them. And both of them, it seemed, were genuinely interested in the welfare of Amber, and both, he would venture a guess, had been deeply hurt by their loss. A loss, he was gathering, that had occurred not a week ago, but eight years ago, when, for a reason he didn't know, Aislinn had left home.
Left? Or been kicked out? To hear Aislinn speak of it, she'd been disowned, and that was what Amber had said as well—but how much of that had been influenced by Aislinn? Amber had said that she grew up thinking her sister was a squib or some such, and Severus had assumed that the attitude had been born of her parents' insistence that the older girl was not discussed. A conclusion he'd drawn based on what Aislinn had said. Now, he found himself wondering if perhaps Hannah was a topic that the Carlisles simply did not discuss out of a desire for peace. Elizabeth and Matthew were still arguing.
"…not going to blame me for what happened!"
"Should have taken her to St. Mungo's, but you insisted…"
"St. Mungo's is a hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Elizabeth. Magical. Not natural."
Severus rethought his earlier assertion that this was a discussion the Carlisles needed to be having with Amber. No, he decided, this was a discussion that Amber did not need to be hearing, though it was a shame that the argument had never been had while Aislinn was present. It sounded, to Severus' untrained ears, that the Carlisles had many bits of dirty laundry that needed airing, and it was unfortunate that they seemed to have been left to rot and mildew for all these years.
His mind drifted back to something Autumn had said—that Aislinn had been a veritable 'doormat' when she met her. Severus closed his eyes momentarily, and conjured an image of Hannah Carlisle as a Fourth Year student. She'd not been shy, but she'd been… easy to get along with. A lot like Remus, in many ways, in fact. He could suddenly see her as very eager to please, and very eager to avoid arguments. Willing to let almost anything slide past her, any criticism bounce off her. How had he tried to coax a reaction from her? He'd wanted her to defend herself, to defend her actions, to talk back to him. He'd wanted the pleasure of giving her a detention for mouthing off; it would have soothed some of his irritation over her damnable persistence in not following instructions, but he'd never been able to provoke her into any true misbehaving, so he had been limited to frustrating detentions in which he watched her redo a potion, step by careful step.
As an adult, Aislinn had been far less reticent, and far more willing to engage, though she'd still been even tempered. He remembered in painfully acute detail how she had reacted when he'd tried to defend her at a staff dinner. She had been furious with him, because he'd caused a scene. He could suddenly imagine her being frustrated with her parents if she could see them now, bickering in public, but in their own home… Unfortunate indeed. He could almost hear her sharp retorts and accusations. Accusations of things which, apparently, her parents did not realize they were being held responsible for. She had been very young when she was diagnosed with cancer, and if a small child heard her parents bickering over her hospital… Yes. Severus could see how she might draw the conclusion that her mother was ashamed of her.
As it was, Severus thought it likely that, while human and with the human propensity towards making mistakes, Matthew and Elizabeth Carlisle were not the villains she'd seemed to think they were. And, if she'd not left home so abruptly at such a young age, she might have come to realize that. Amazing how years changed one's perspective.
And isn't that what Potter told you a week ago? The thought, unbidden and unwelcome, crept in at a most inopportune juncture in his speculation, and suddenly he was wondering how much of the idiocy in the world was attributable to the passionate idiocy of youth.
"…can't believe you never told me she was all right, that she was still alive and thriving and…"
"And what would you have done? Demanded to see her. I wouldn't risk estranging her even more…"
Once again, Severus found himself fervently wishing for some miracle to save him from this conversation that he did not wish to witness. This time, however, his wish was answered by a soft chiming. He glanced up, and very nearly smiled with relief as he stood suddenly. "Mr. Carlisle, Mrs. Carlisle, I fear that I must beg you pardon, but there is a Quidditch match beginning in fifteen minutes, and I wouldn't dream of not being there. Slytherin stands to move ahead of Gryffindor for the House Cup, and it is, of course, a game of critical importance to the students. Had I realized you would be here, I would have begged out of it, of course," the lie rolled easily from his tongue—there was nothing short of an act of God that would keep him from this Quidditch match, "but as it is… Would you care to join me in the staff box? It should be a good game, the Ravenclaw team is quite talented…" Severus noted with a certain degree of self-satisfaction that he had pulled a leaf from Molly Weasley's book just then and successfully herded the Carlisles from his office and shut the door firmly. He'd even picked up Mrs. Carlisle's handbag and put it in her hands and gathered their cloaks for them. "And then, after the match, perhaps we can continue our conversation, with Amber present."
"Oh, really, Professor Snape, I don't think…"
"Why not, Elizabeth? When was the last time we watched a Quidditch match? I daresay it's been years, and I don't think we've ever watched a Slytherin-Ravenclaw match."
Elizabeth smiled sheepishly at Severus, tucking her hand into her husband's arm. "We made it a point to avoid games that would put us at odds. Always found something more interesting in the Astronomy Tower, or library."
Severus nearly snorted, having a very good idea what they had found so interesting in the Astronomy Tower. "Some things, Mrs. Carlisle, never change," he commented wryly as they passed a pair of Sixth Year students going the wrong way to be heading for the Quidditch pitch. Normally, Severus would have trailed after them, but he wasn't abandoning a Quidditch game just to catch a couple of students snogging. He wouldn't even abandon a Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game for that.
Matthew laughed heartily. "Right you are, Professor," he replied jovially. "Many things never change."
Severus opened the door to the grounds and gestured for the other two to precede him. "Something to keep in mind, perhaps, while you are making a decision about your daughter's future. Hogwarts didn't kill either of you, and Amber won't suffer for it, either."
"Ah, how thoughtful, Severus. You'll be there to dry your students' tears when they fail to move ahead of Gryffindor." Severus looked up and scowled good-naturedly at Minerva.
"Not likely," he retorted. "More likely I'll be celebrating with them when they leave your House in the dust." He turned to his companions and gestured towards McGonagall. "You have met Minerva McGonagall, I trust? She is Head of Gryffindor and Deputy Headmistress."
"Of course," Mrs. Carlisle replied formally, offering a hand. "Pleased to meet you again, Professor."
Minerva shook both their hands, then skived off to find herself a seat in the staff stands, and Severus turned to the Carlisles. "I normally sit with the students, and you're welcome to join us, or if you would be more comfortable, I can show you to the staff section. It is a bit… tamer."