I would like to warn anyone that reads this chapter that it contains
some references dealing with rape and child abuse. If anyone is disturbed
by this, I suggest not to read it.
He was staring at her back again, horrified. Several long scars traced their way from her lower back to her shoulders, and several small ones crisscrossed her spine like a chain-link fence. Most of it was tattooed over, as if to hide the old wounds. Severus cringed. There was pain there, and anger. Someone had done that to her...
The scene faded. Instead of a woman's back, an old shield now hung in front of his face. His own distorted reflection stared back at him, his face twisted demonically in the silver. It was the same inscription that he had seen so many times before. Reathaí Meán Oíche is ea an Bás. What did it mean? What did all this mean? Snape rubbed his chin and turned away from the shield. Where was this place? He walked to a window, gazing outside, trying to regain a sense of balance. The lawn was clipped, and the gardens manicured with care. Obviously it was a wealthy manor of some kind, but he couldn't put a finger on the location.
Deep down inside he knew this as a dream, but for some odd reason he could not wake up. Everything about it just seemed so, well, real. He could smell the varnish used to keep the furniture oiled, as well as the stale scent in the air. It was as if no one had lived here in a while. That's impossible, he told himself, looking around. Everything was well kept and neat. There was almost no dust on tabletops, and the hardwood floors were waxed and shiny.
Snape thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head to catch whatever it was, it was gone. He shook his head, passing it off as just another anomaly in this already strange dream. He wanted to wake up. His dreams in general were dark and violent; it might look peaceful here now, but there was no doubt someone would die before it was through. Maybe if I walk for a while it will disappear, he thought, and began his way towards what he took to be the kitchen.
It was indeed the kitchen, and he found Aislinn standing at the stove, stirring a pot of something. His surprise melted away almost at once, a feeling that unsettled him. He was supposed to be wary of her, not think of her as a friend! However, his thoughts changed abruptly when she turned to face him. The sockets where her eyes should be were empty and black, and rivulets of blood ran down her cheeks, looking eerily like sanguine tears. Her neck was slashed across the windpipe and vocal cords; Severus could see the musculature in the gash.
He backed away, horrified. She took a step toward him, reaching out her hands as if wanting to be picked up. "Get away from me!" His voice was dry with fear. He could barely speak.
"Severus. They did this to me. They took my eyes, Severus! My eyes!" She tripped and fell, busting her chin on the polished wood of the floor. She raised her body, spitting out three teeth in a shower of bloody saliva. "Severus, please." Blood bubbled between her lips, and she gagged. Snape continued to retreat, and Aislinn continued to follow, pleading.
Snape found himself pinned against a wall. He flattened himself out as much as possible, praying to a god he didn't believe in for some kind of way out. He closed his eyes in a frightened wince, hoping when he opened them there would be only darkness. He could feel the tips of Aislinn's fingers brushing against his face; they were cold and slimy. Something wet brushed against his cheek, leaving a sticky feeling and metallic smell. Then there was only pain as the dagger slid into his heart.
Snape awoke with a shout, gripping his chest as though he had really been stabbed. The nightshirt he was wearing was bathed in sweat, but his body felt cold. He rubbed his cheek involuntarily. It was dry. Damn, he though angrily as he got to his feet and cast the curtains surrounding his bed aside. The air was cold; his breath made little foggy patterns in the air as he exhaled. On an impulse he stripped off his nightshirt, running his hands over his thin chest, searching for a puncture wound. He found nothing, so he slipped the shirt back on. The brandy decanter on the table sparkled tantalizingly, and Severus happily partook.
The strong liquor burned the back of his throat, but at least it scalded away the faint smell of blood that still lingered in his nostrils. He was more confused than afraid, after all most dreams had some kind of hidden subconscious meaning. It was only natural that Aislinn, the source of his daily consternation, would appear, but without eyes? And with her throat slashed? He could come up with thousands of possible ideas, but none seemed to make any sense. Suddenly, Snape realized what he was doing. He slapped himself on the forehead, cursing. I'm starting to sound like Trelawney, he thought dejectedly. Another snifter of brandy went down his throat. This time it didn't burn.
He had to get a confession out of her somehow. As he thought he unlocked a cabinet door, pulling out a tiny vial and drinking about half. He chased it down with more liquor, and then crawled back into bed. Hopefully the dreamless sleep concoction would work; he couldn't stand any more of those horrid dreams. He could feel sleep tickling at his faculties, and he relaxed against the pillow, hoping to embrace the one pure thing left to him. Just before he surrendered, a thought occurred to him in one word: Veritaserum. "That's nice," Severus mumbled, slipping into the darkness of a dreamless night.
Severus rose before dawn had even touched the sky. He stretched, shaking his head to chase away the tired cloudiness from his mind, and tossed back another glass of brandy. The decanter was less than half full; it had been filled to the brim two days earlier. Severus wrinkled his nose as he gazed at the jar. I do not have a drinking problem, he mused to himself. As much as he hated to admit, he had been drinking more and more lately. It would have to stop if he wanted to get anything worthwhile done.
He stripped off his nightshirt in the bathroom, gazing in the mirror at his chest. There was no blood, no wound, nothing that would intimate at assassination attempts. But that dream... It was so fresh in his head. He could still smell the blood; still feel its wet stickiness. Aislinn's mutilated face lurked behind his eyelids. He could still recall the pleading note to her voice as she begged for help, and he had denied her. I will continue to deny her, he told himself angrily, scowling at his reflection. A shower would clear away the dreams from his head, and hopefully steel him for another day of teaching.
He pinned her against the wall, his mouth searching hers out. They kissed hungrily; their hands pulled at each other's robes and clothes, desperately seeking. She let his hands run over her belly, between her thighs, down her legs. She whimpered softly. She hadn't felt this way for a man in years, and her current choice confused her as well as excited her. Their hate fueled their passion. She gasped as he bit her neck, piercing the skin slightly. "Severus," she cooed, straining against him, trembling...
Her eyes shot open. The sheets were twisted around her legs; the light of dawn filtered through open windows onto her yellow silk chemise. Aislinn shivered, disgusted. How could she have even dreamed about that? It was hideous, frightening, Snape was a monster and a fool.
Almost at the same time she sighed, wishing the dream would go on. Truth was, she was lonely. Lupin had left sometime the previous night, leaving her almost friendless. His support though, was invaluable. Snape's accusations had cut her, and cut her deep, and his smile was just what she had needed. However, now he was on his way to Spain-probably already there-and she was still at Hogwarts with a hateful Potions master.
She turned over, burying her head in her pillow. Something warm brushed up against her ear, and sneezed in her hair. Aislinn sat bolt upright, scowling down at the cat. "Bo, that's disgusting," she told him. The cat merely stared at her with placid eyes. She sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He purred contentedly, working his claws into her bed sheets. The cat is a good thing, she thought, smiling. Yankee Doodle was probably off somewhere hunting, so she couldn't close the windows. Fortunately it was not slated to rain that day, so she could probably leave the windows open all day.
Aislinn rose and walked into the bathroom, stripping off her chemise and tossing it onto the floor. She fingered the tattoos ringing her arms, and smiled. They had not hurt. They were beautiful; two black bands of Celtic knots to give her strength. Not that they would really work. It was merely the premise. The tattoo on her middle finger had hurt much more, but a little pain had never really bothered her. It was just a part of being an O'Flannery.
The steam of the bath chased the memory of sleep from her head, and with it the dream she had had. The trick is realizing it is just a dream, thought Aislinn. Nothing more than images in your mind of a subconscious thought or feeling. But then why had her subconscious tricked her into kissing Severus Snape? Some questions were better left unanswered.
Already the day promised to be a long one, and it was not yet eight o'clock. With a sigh Aislinn realized she would be late for breakfast, and probably go without one. Classes started at nine, so she had a while to prepare herself for the daily lesson. Another night of Occlumency would add to her stress. She had come to a completely different realization about Harry. She had originally believed he was a foolish, spoiled child that enjoyed poking his nose where it didn't belong, much like Draco. However, she had learned Harry Potter had lived a life much like hers: scorned by relatives and abandoned early in life. He, too, had an abusive sibling.
She hummed a snatch of a song as she toweled herself off. Another song had been coming to her in bits. She felt as though she was finally getting her muse back, which made her smile. At least she was doing something right. Her hair hung in wet strands as she looked down at her naked body, running her hands over her hips. She had always been thin, almost unhealthily so, but she got all her essential vitamins, so she wasn't concerned. If she lost any more weight, though, something would have to be done about that. She had always intimidated men; whether it was her height or her attitude wasn't clear. Remus seemed to be the only man she connected on a deep personal level with. There was the occasional boyfriend or platonic relationship, but most men seemed wary whenever they were around her. Then, there were those who were just plain nasty. Men like Snape.
She wrapped her hair in a towel, planning to dry it later. She began to go through her morning routine of washing and dressing, and then putting on a bit of makeup to hide tired eyes. Actually, she had been sleeping very well lately. Her dreams had become idyllic, and sometimes downright licentious. Dreams like those had not come in a long time. She half- wondered what they were all about. Various people, various places, but always the same result. She would wake up shuddering in bed, confused and elated at the same time.
Aislinn finished using the towel and hung it up. With three twists she put her hair up in a tight bun and secured it with several pins. Her hair had grown; it was touching her shoulders now. She made a mental note to make a trip into London on the coming Saturday. Her band mates had replied to her post and set a date for a practice. Since there was no way they could possibly come to Hogwarts, she would go to them. She doubted she would even be missed. It would be a chance for her to loosen up and get out of the teacher's robes, to get back to life she used to lead.
She had known each member personally for years. She had met Rob first when she pushed him down the stairs during her seventh year at Hogwarts. He had been a Gryffindor, and thought it was okay to bother Aislinn, the "silent Slytherin," as she was called. He had broken both arms; she had three months of detention. They had been friends ever since. Even when she had gone off to live as a Muggle, they stayed in touch, and he eventually introduced her to Geoff de Villiers, the son of a prominent French merchant and his English wife. Geoff had graduated from Beauxbatons, and had met Rob through a mutual friend.
As it turned out, the two men had decided to form a band. Rob played the drums; Geoff was skilled with a bass guitar. They had come to Aislinn, asking if she knew a guitar player who would be interested. She volunteered immediately. At first they had been skeptical, but after a practice or two they both accepted her into the band, which they had named Murdock. That was her humble beginnings in the world of music stardom. They had gone on to play Muggle clubs throughout England and France; they even played two nights in Dublin. As soon as a club opened in Diagon Alley, they had started performing for a more magical crowd. If the Weird Sisters could do it, so could they.
Aislinn eyed her clock dreamily, but started when she realized it was almost nine. "Léan air!" she groaned, and grabbed an armful of lesson plans and notes before scurrying out the door, barely remembering to set the wards.
The first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were fidgety that morning, and she had to dock fifteen points from each house because of their lack of attentiveness. She hated doing that, but if it must be done, then let it be. The sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors were better, although not by much. She found herself fervently hoping for lunch. It came and went, and Aislinn continued the day, doing the best she could do not to throw down her books and quit on the spot.
The day seemed long to Harry. Potions crawled by, and even Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't have the same spark it normally did. He watched Aislinn out of the corner of his eye the entire class; she seemed tired, if not downright gloomy. Her patience seemed to be wearing thin, and it made Harry wonder what else had happened last night. She did manage to flash a quick smile in his direction before turning to tell Malfoy off for harassing some other poor student. At least she was no longer bitter.
Harry's doubt of his professor's associations had been driven from his mind. Let Seamus think what he would, but Harry now stood firm in his conviction. Aislinn O'Flannery had been an abused child and an insecure young adult, but was now a capable, talented woman. As odd as it seemed to him, Harry was not at all worried about the second approaching Occlumency lesson. In fact, he was ready to give it another try. It was better now that Snape wasn't teaching him, and Harry was no longer afraid of hiding his memories from a teacher he hated.
He had noticed the way Snape glared at her during meals. There was a deep-seated animosity there; one that Harry didn't quite understand. Given, Snape didn't get along with most teachers, notable McGonagall, but at least he managed to keep an air of professionalism around them. With Aislinn, any trace of civility was gone. It was just pure hate and suspicion. He had felt that way before. Surely he couldn't believe she was a Death Eater...
A nagging voice in Harry's head reminded him that up until last night, he had thought the same. He chased away the thought angrily. It's not that way anymore, he screamed inwardly.
As Harry stepped into the Great Hall, his eyes went automatically to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. They both waved to him, and his eyes traveled up to the professor's table. Aislinn was there, chatting happily with Professor Sprout. Snape was staring in his clandestine manner. That was nothing new. Harry waved back to his friends after a moment, smiling. At least they were fairly unpredictable.
As he sat at the table Ron gestured with his head up towards the professor's table. "What do you think is up with them?" he asked, obviously meaning Snape and O'Flannery.
"They hate each other. Isn't it obvious?" answered Hermione, grimacing.
Harry shrugged. "It has something to do about her family and his, well, his background as a Death Eater, I guess. I'm not really sure," he lied. He was more than one hundred percent sure, but after his earlier faux pas, he wasn't about to make another one.
"Personally, I think Professor O'Flannery is wonderful," said Hermione. "I wish you hadn't antagonized her in class yesterday. She's obviously brilliant. I've heard that she speaks about fifteen languages fluently." Hermione shook her head self importantly, and smirked.
Ron slapped his forehead. "Harry, mate, I forgot entirely! How was detention last night?"
Harry sighed. This was the question he had been avoiding like the plague. "It went well, actually. You'll never guess what Dumbledore has dragged me into again." He waited for a while before continuing. "Occlumency. But it's not Snape teaching it, so I feel a little bit better about it."
Both Ron and Hermione looked stunned. Ron's mouth was hanging open. "So he had O'Flannery the Death Eater teach you?" he asked.
"Well, there's something about that. She's not a Death Eater."
"I told you," Hermione said haughtily. "Dumbledore would never hire a Death Eater. Not after what happened with Quirrel and Moody."
Ron looked skeptical. "People can slip through the cracks easily, Hermione. Anyway, Harry, how did you find out?"
Harry shook his head. "Using the shielding charm we learned last year on our own. I saw some things in her head I wish I wouldn't have seen."
"Like what?" asked Ron.
"I'd rather not tell you, if you don't mind. It's a bit private."
Ron chuckled. "Does she want your body or something?"
"Ron!" chided Hermione.
Harry smiled sadly. "No. I just saw what happened to her at the hands of Death Eaters. It wasn't pretty, although it's left me with more questions than answers."
Hermione was nodding her head. Ron just sat there with a thoughtful look on his face. "I think she's wonderful," mumbled Hermione. "She's one Defense teacher I wouldn't want to see leave."
Harry agreed completely. His lessons with O'Flannery might just be an asset worth having.
Snape was waiting in the sitting room of his chambers, pacing nervously. He was about to take a step in deception he thought he would never resort to using on a coworker. However, he had to be sure about her background, and this way was almost guaranteed to provide him with answers. He threw himself down on the couch, fidgeting. He wasn't quite sure if she would come. She had to be suspicious. After all, he had been cruel to her up until that night, and his sudden change in moods would cause almost anyone to second guess his actions.
He had approached her after dinner, using the pretense of Order business to arrange a meeting. It would just be him and her, he had said, stressing the need for absolute secrecy. Dumbledore would be informed after the meeting had taken place. She had agreed after only a moment of contemplation, no doubt believing that despite his posturing, that he was harmless. Well he had something to show her!
They would be meeting in his chambers around eight thirty. Snape checked his preparations quickly. One could never be too prepared. The two cups of coffee were arranged on a table, with cream and sugar nearby. The veritaserum had already been added to one cup, the cup intended for Aislinn O'Flannery. He smiled evilly to himself. If it hadn't been for a sleepless night, he would have never thought of the idea. At least something had to be said for insomnia.
A knock on the door caused him to start. He rose quickly, and in three steps opened the door to see a placid Aislinn O'Flannery staring him in the face. He nodded a hello and beckoned her in. He pushed the door shut behind her as she settled herself on the couch.
"Severus," she began, "I don't know why you called me here, but I must say I was less than thrilled in coming."
"I can understand. I have been rather terse with you lately, but I am more than sure you know the reason behind it."
She nodded. "I can guess."
Snape sat, pressing his fingertips together in a steeple. "I fear I must address that. I am, to say the least, a bit suspicious of your family heritage, Miss O'Flannery, but I might be willing to overlook it if you can somehow prove you're not affiliated with Voldemort."
Aislinn huffed. "I shouldn't have to prove myself to you, Severus Snape." A quick look at her face told Snape she was offended, but he wouldn't let that stop him now.
"I know you're averse. Believe me, I would feel the same if I were in your position. However, you absolutely must understand I am only doing this for my personal conviction, as well as that of the Order. I saw how badly you were received last night."
"It was your doing, Snape."
Snape spread his hands wide in a gesture of well meaning. "Miss O'Flannery, I merely told what I had seen. If it may help, though, I am sorry."
Aislinn sat for a while as if considering. "Apology accepted, Severus. Now what is it in you want?"
Snape inwardly shouted for joy. Everything was going perfectly. "Coffee?" he asked, nodding to the cup closest to her. She raised an eyebrow and reached for the sugar. Snape poured a bit of cream into his own, untouched cup. As Aislinn reached for it her fingers brushed his wrist, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Her hands were freezing.
She smiled at him as she took her first sip. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Now, what was it that you wanted?"
Snape shrugged. "Order business really. As a spy for the Order, I need to know what it is you intend to do with your skills."
Aislinn contemplated a bit, drinking the drugged coffee. "I'm not really sure as of yet. I've thought about being a Muggle correspondent. After all, I did spend several years living as one."
Snape nodded. "I see. If you're interested in spying on Voldemort, we'd probably have to get you a disguise. No doubt he would recognize you as an O'Flannery otherwise."
"Yes. Yes, of course," Aislinn nodded sleepily. The potion was taking effect. "I look so much like my father." Her eyes closed momentarily, and her head lolled to one side. She took a deep swig of the coffee, finishing the cup.
Severus waited. In a few minutes she would completely under his control. This forced niceness made him want to vomit. She was an object he loathed, and just having her in his chambers was sickening. "With a bit of polyjuice potion I doubt it would be a problem."
"I've been meaning to speak to you about that, Severus. If you remember, you sent ten transforming students into my classroom yesterday."
"I'm very sorry, Miss O'Flannery. You see, there was not enough time for them to fully transform before the bell rang."
O'Flannery nodded. "I unnerstand. I completely unnerstand." She raised her arm halfheartedly. "Severus, did ye put somethin' in th' drink?" was the last thing she said before falling into a stupor.
Severus stood up quickly, pushing her into a reclining position on the couch. Her head lolled to one side; her eyes were open but were blank. Snape grinned. It had worked perfectly. O'Flannery had enough veritaserum in her system to put out an elephant. She would not wake for hours.
He watched her as he finished his coffee, brainstorming on how to proceed. He decided to begin with a simple question. "O'Flannery, who was your father?"
"Alastair Patrick O'Flannery." Her voice had become deeper, rougher. The fake English accent was gone; instead a thick Irish slur replaced it.
"Who was your mother?"
"Bean Mhi Shaughnessy-O'Flannery."
"Where were you born?"
"Saolaíodh in Éirinn mé," she replied. Snape had never heard a language quite like it. He had no idea what it meant.
"Repeat it in English. Where were you born?" he asked, hoping he would get something more useful out of her.
"Ireland," she replied. "In Cork."
"Good. Now, Miss O'Flannery, tell me about your life." Snape sat back. He realized he would probably be there for a long time, but he was willing to sacrifice sleep for answers.
"I am thirty-three years old. I was born in 1969 t' th' O'Flannery's o' Cork. Me fayther was a Death Eater, as was me mum. I have an older brother."
"What is his name?" Snape interrupted.
"Me brother is Richard O'Flannery. I had a sister once."
Once again, Snape felt the need to cut in. "Miss O'Flannery, what happened to your sister?"
Aislinn shuddered. "Me fayther killed 'er. She was twenty."
Snape shuddered. The very thought that a father could do that to his own flesh and blood made him feel queasy. He was beginning to second-guess his reasoning. "Please continue."
"Me family lived outside o' Cork, in Ireland. We were wealthy. Th' children had ev'rything they wanted. My fayther was Voldemort's right hand. He wanted us children t' follow in his footsteps. Richard took a Dark Mark when 'e was thirteen. He went to Durmstrang."
"O'Flannery, did you become a Death Eater?" Snape asked, sitting on the edge of the couch. Now was the moment of truth.
"Nay. Fayther wanted me to, but I didn't. So 'e hurt me." Aislinn blinked, but her eyes were still unfocused. "I was eleven when I started school at 'Ogwarts. I was a Slytherin."
Severus thought back to his own boyhood days. When he was in his seventh year, she would be a first year... He seemed to remember her face. In that first year she had been all smiles, with a lack of understanding about the ways of the world. What had changed? He hadn't known her; in fact he could barely even recall her face. It came in flashes. It startled him he was able to remember a lowly first year. However, he had been Head Boy; no doubt he must have helped her out in the past. "Please continue, O'Flannery."
"Fayther wanted me to take th' Dark Mark when I was thirteen. I didn't. So Fayther took me to a Dark Revel in Cork. Fayther and Richard beat me. I lost three teeth." Aislinn paused. "I was afraid, but I didn't take th' Mark. I went back to school. I was fourteen when me brother's friend raped me. It hurt."
"What was his name?" asked Severus shakily.
"Lucius Malfoy," Aislinn responded.
Snape gasped. Lucius had been a whoremonger, but he had never mentioned anything about rape. Malfoy had always spoken of his conquests as consensual; most girls would have gladly slept with him. "He did no such thing," Snape said under his breath.
"Yes. It was summer. I was in me room. Richard knocked on th' door, sayin' he had a friend who thought I was cute. Richard brought me to his room and locked me in. Lucius was hiding in a corner. He kicked me in the back. I fell. He broke me nose and kicked me i' the stomach. I fought. He hit me. I passed out, an' when I woke I was bleedin' and in pain. He had raped me."
Snape's mind was reeling. It had never occurred to him what he would learn about her life. He had assumed she had been a wealthy girl, spoiled and well treated by a doting father for taking the Dark Mark and serving Voldemort. He stood, reaching for the brandy. He almost thought better of it, but by the time he had made a decision the liquor was already in the snifter. He downed it in a single gulp, and turned to look at the woman on his couch. Her eyes had rolled back in her head; only the whites showed. Her body was rigid, hands crossed over her chest as though she were dead. "Go on," he whispered.
"I told me fayther. Instead of believin' me, Fayther called me a liar and took me to another Revel. They tied me to a pole and whipped me. I still have the scars. That night Fayther watched as five men raped me. I was only fourteen. After that, me fayther took me to Revels every month. It was horrible."
Tears had been pooling in the corners of her eyes, and finally spilled over. Severus had to fight the urge to lean over and wipe them away. He had wanted to know the truth, and now he knew it. He swallowed hard. He was willing to sacrifice her trust and well being for his own. "Did you ever take the Dark Mark, O'Flannery?" he asked.
"Nay. Never. Fayther always hated me for that; ev'ry time I refused I was beaten, raped, or both."
"Jesus," Severus muttered under his breath. This was the price you pay. "Did you go to school?"
"Yes. I never spoke. People were afraid o' me; they all knew about me family. I had a few friends; four other Irish girls. Even me own house hated me. One day they held me down and shaved me head. I slit my wrists that night. Fayther came to school and threatened to take me home. I never tried to kill meself again." Aislinn paused, taking several deep breaths. "I was fifteen when Voldemort was defeated. Me fayther died soon after."
"How did he die?" Snape asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"He was killed by Aurors. I never cried over him." O'Flannery's face was resolute now, although still tear-stained.
"Did the beatings stop, Miss O'Flannery?"
Aislinn shuddered. "Nay, they dinnae. Me brother and mum were still alive, although they kept a low profile. I didn't want t' go home, ever. Mum would beat me. She drove an ice pick through me hand once because I called 'er a right ould bitch. No fecking respect, she said."
Severus gingerly looked at her hand. On the right one he could see a faded pink scar in the middle of her palm, a clear indication she was not lying. "What happened then?"
"I grew up. I got older. The beatings continued at th' hands o' Richard. Mum was caught in London when I was seventeen. She's in Azkaban." Aislinn stopped speaking as she rolled her head to one side. "I 'ope she stays."
"What happened to Richard?" inquired Snape.
"It was the summer between me sixth and seventh years at 'Ogwarts. Richard took me t' London, to an ould friend. I suffered th' worst beatin' of me life that day. Suddenly, a group o' Aurors bust in and took me brother. I was scared, and ran. I was found, an' sent to th' hospital there." O'Flannery's hands twitched nervously. "I was on me own. I went back t' 'Ogwarts, and graduated that year. I knew a boy named Rob; he's as old as I am, and I met a man named Remus Lupin through a mutual friend. We moved in t'gether."
Snape seethed. Fucking Lupin, he thought. So they're hadn't been just a casual relationship between them. "And?" he asked, tersely.
"I started playing guitar. It was me savior, I guess. Those three years after school I did nothin' except work wi' the Tuatha de Dannan. I lived as a Muggle, startin' in 1990. I was 21."
"What happened then? And what's the Tuatha de Dannan?" The word sounded odd in Snape's throat, but he tried to pronounce it the best he could.
O'Flannery sighed. It sounded wistful. "I went t' school in London. Got meself a degree in forensic anthropology and worked in Dublin fer a year or so. Did work on th' Skelligs, too. Moved back t' London and worked for th' British Museum." She paused. "Tuatha de Dannan? Ah, what we were, what we were." She said no more about it, so Snape decided to move on.
"What was your life like at the time? Did you ever decide to become a Death Eater?" Snape would not let go of the tiny shred of hope that she would confess; that this would not all be in vain.
"I dated. Most of me boyfriends were abusive like Fayther. They smacked me around. I felt like everythin' was all me own fault. I wanted t' die. I got tattooed up t' hide th' scars. Former Death Eaters would send me threats. One man found me; kept me locked up for three days. I eventually stole 'is wand; used the Cruciatus. The only time." O'Flannery's body shivered involuntarily. "I was thinkin' about killin' meself again."
Snape leaned forward. "What changed your mind?"
"I met Remus again. Also joined up with two old friends that stuck with me through it all, and we started a band. I'm still in it. Got meself a job at th' Ministry as an Auror two years ago. Ev'ryone assumed I was a Death Eater, so I quit last December. I spoke t' Dumbledore about a job as a Defense teacher. I came to 'Ogwarts again, a better person than I was when I left."
Her story was seemingly over. However, Snape could not resist one final question. "And Severus Snape? What do you think of him?"
Aislinn's slack face contorted. "I hate him. He's cruel. A real bastard. I do nothin' and he hates me for it. He's convinced I'm a Death Eater. I have nothin' to prove t' him."
Snape stood quickly. "You've proved it," he said quietly, and poured himself more brandy. Now all that was left was to wait for O'Flannery to wake. He thought quickly, trying to find a place to put her. His head spun. He would have to carry her to her chambers, hoping no one would see him.
He checked the time. It was ten thirty; he would wait thirty more minutes before getting rid of her. Snape turned and looked at her. She looked ill. Her eyes were still open and rolled back; her mouth was slack. And yet at the same time she looked forlorn and lonely. He couldn't decide if he wanted to get rid of her or hold her close.
Suddenly, the magnitude of what he had done hit him. He spun on his heel, tossing the glass of brandy at the wall. A ragged yell escaped his throat. "Shit!" He had completely betrayed her. Her past was a painful mass of anger and blood, and he had taken that from her against her will. This was yet another reason to hate himself. He had wanted answers. Answers were what he had received.
"Miss O'Flannery, could you ever forgive me?" he asked, his back towards her.
"I don't know. Níhn cinnle in aon chor." She had slipped back into that strange language. Snape glanced over his shoulder. At least he was sure of her allegiance now. But he had learned it at what cost? There was no way he could avoid the accusations she would throw at him. Hopefully they could work it out and go back to how they had been: silent and mutually suspicious. At the moment he didn't know who to hate more. Was it her fault for not telling him outright? Or was it his for taking her past from her by dubious means?
Severus sighed. He could not stand to have her lying there, reminding him of what he had done. Two long steps brought him to her side. He scooped her up gently, noting the fact she weighed almost nothing. Her head sagged backwards, over his arm. Empty eyes stared into his, accusing in their blankness. At eleven o'clock he could sneak through the hallways undetected by students and teachers alike.
The hallways themselves were cold, and seemed to be filled with resounding echoes. Moonlight through thin windows cast eerie shadows on the floor. Occasionally O'Flannery would mutter something unintelligible under her breath, whether it was a curse or a passing thought was unknown.
At long last Snape recognized the approaching door as her chambers. The telltale satyr statue was a reminder of the time she had duped him into listening at her door. Snape grimaced. He hated to be caught unawares in anything. "How do you unlock the door?" he asked roughly.
"I snap me fingers twice." Aislinn's voice sounded hollow.
Snape grunted. "Is there any other way?" he asked. He wasn't about to leave her in the middle of the hallway.
"Yes. Audentes fortuna juvat. It's Latin." The door unlocked, and Snape pushed it open. A raucous scream almost caused him to drop O'Flannery, but he steadied himself when he saw the golden eagle.
"Damn bird," he muttered, and set the woman down on her bed. She would sleep for hours yet, as he should be doing. He turned and exited the room, cursing himself for his own stupidity and curiosity that had damaged everything.
Aislinn O'Flannery buried her head further underneath the covers, trying to escape from the morning sun and her own anger. The fragmentary memories were coming back to her: Snape tricking her into coming into his chambers, Snape giving her drugged coffee, Snape stealing information from her without her knowing. That bastard! She sobbed into her pillow. This was absolute treason.
I should have known, she thought dejectedly. His manner should have given him away. For once he had been if not kind, at least accommodating. She cursed herself for falling into his trap. She raised her head and checked a clock. Eleven in the morning. At that moment she should be teaching sixth year Defense, but she was too afraid of bursting into tears in front of the class.
Yankee Doodle caught her eye as he preened his feathers. "Ye good- fer-nothin' bird! Ye should have taken care o' him! Killed him!" The eagle rustled his feathers, and flew out the window. Even Bo was nowhere to be seen. Aislinn groaned as she turned over. Her head was killing her. "Bastard," was all she said.
She pushed herself up and realized she had been sleeping in her clothes. She stripped them off, tossing them onto the back of a chair. She reached around, fingering the scars on her lower back. There was no pain in them now, only the lingering memory of blood. Sometimes she wished for something to hurt, something to remind her of the agony she went through to survive. Maybe then she would not fall into traps so easily.
She saw no reason to get dressed today. She would not be going out. The silk chemise was where she had left it; Aislinn pulled it on over her head. She needed time to think. She needed to sort out her feelings; in fact she was feeling almost nothing. She was in a state of numbness and disbelief. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had been done to her. She grimaced.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her reverie. She didn't answer; hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away.
"Miss O'Flannery, will you open the door?" Dumbledore's voice was both commanding and friendly at the same time.
Aislinn sighed and snapped twice. "Headmaster, the door is unlocked, but I would prefer if you would be kind and fuck off."
The door opened. Dumbldore was smiling. "This is more like the young Aislinn I knew at Hogwarts. Although she was slightly less happy than the current Aislinn."
She smiled halfheartedly. "I wish I could say the same today, Headmaster."
Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "We missed you at breakfast, Miss O'Flannery." When she didn't answer, he asked, "May I sit down?"
Aislinn waved her hand in a gesture of acquiescence. "Please, do." She flopped down on her bed, checking for the cat out of habit. "Albus, I don't know if I want to do this anymore."
"Do what?" Dumbledore asked.
"This." Aislinn indicated the room in a wide sweep of her arm. "Teach. I feel less than useful here." She sighed. "And I can't stand anymore of Severus Snape."
A knowing glint surfaced in Dumbledore's eye. "Yes, he is rather unkind to you, isn't he?"
"That's not entirely it, Headmaster. Last night he-"
"Yes?" Albus pried.
"-He used his position to take advantage of me." She fairly spit it out. The anger was still washing over her in waves. It took almost all her self-control not to walk into his classroom and strangle him in front of the first years.
"I would hardly believe Severus would do something of a carnal nature, Aislinn," Dumbledore began. "It's not him."
"Oh, but it's perfectly fine to use deception, is it?" Aislinn screamed. "It's fine for him to drug my coffee and, when I can't do anything to defend myself, take my past from me? Well I don't fecking think so!" Her false accent had been lost in her tirade. "I dinnae unnerstand you, Albus. So 'e can't fuck me, but if 'e uses that veritaserum it's fine?" Tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes. "It hurts, Albus. I came 'ere to get away from all that shite, and it follows me."
Dumbledore rose. "Aislinn, darling. Please." He hugged her close, letting her sob on his shoulder. "Of course it's not all right. In fact, I had no idea he would even attempt such a thing. This is treason in the highest degree and must not go excused." He paused, as if thinking. "I just don't understand why he did it."
"'E thinks I'm a Death Eater, that's why. 'E's a filthy bastard, Albus. Tá an ghráin agam ar an bhfear sin."
"You know I don't speak Gaelic, love," said Dumbledore, stroking her head.
Aislinn raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Albus, yeer the closes' thing t' a fayther I've ever had. Unnerstand that."
Dumbledore nodded, truly touched. "That means a lot to me, Aislinn. But tell me, will you be returning to your post any time soon?"
She sighed, once again adopting her cultured British accent. "I don't know, Headmaster. I think, for the time being, I will prepare my resignation letter. Send an owl to Lupin. I'm sure he would be more than happy to fill in for me."
Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. "I see." He stood slowly and walked to the door. "I do hope you change your mind, Miss O'Flannery. You are a valuable asset to this school, no matter what Severus Snape thinks," he said, and closed the door behind him.
Aislinn collapsed onto her bed, crossing her arms over head in a gesture of protection. She didn't want to leave, but at the same time she saw no reason in staying. Everyone already assumed she was an agent of Voldemort, and Snape's obvious breach of trust had soured the entire experience for her. She had learned the hard way not to give up on the future, but she couldn't see a future in which there was constant distrust.
Where is my fucking cat, she thought. Bo was missing in action when he should be there for comfort. Oh well. She always had nicotine.
Aislinn rolled over, grabbing her pack of smokes from her bedside table and lighting it sloppily. She stood up and perched precariously on the ledge outside her window. Who cares if she was in her pajamas? If they hadn't seen it yet, it was high time they did. But, much to her relief, no one was wandering around the lake. The smoke went into her lungs, calming her. She slumped against the window jamb. "Fuck!" was all she said.
Cigarette finished; she flicked the butt out of her window and turned. Her clothes from last night were still draped over the chair: school robes, skirt, shirt, everything. Aislinn sighed and tried to ignore the mess, but her early years of living in almost perfect cleanliness won over. She picked up the garments, putting them into a bureau drawer reserved especially for dirty clothes. A new outfit was selected for the day, and the chemise once again graced the end of her bed.
I know I said I wouldn't get dressed today, she reflected, but I can't just sit around in my room feeling sorry for myself. I need to get out and preferably torture Severus Snape in a most uncomfortable way. Aislinn grinned as she thought of the pain she would like to inflict on him. He could never withstand twenty lashes with a cat-o-nine tails. He would probably cry like a little girl, servant of Voldemort or not. The Cruciatus might be excruciating, but Muggles did think up some of the vilest tortures ever. Aislinn turned to survey herself in a mirror, and upon finding herself presentable, promptly left the room. Two snaps ensured no one would break in, and she was on her way.
She would not be teaching class again. Best if she could enjoy her last few days here with something resembling dignity. Lupin would be happy for a job; he had been perpetually unemployed since his last stint as a teacher at Hogwarts. Aislinn had been helping to support him, but according to her way of thinking, he needed more food. And a good set of clothes, a voice in the back of her head added. Aislinn sniffed. "Exactly," she said aloud, to no one in particular.
A bell rang, and the hallways began to fill with students. Some gave her a puzzled look, but most just seemed to ignore her. She wondered who was filling in for her. Best not to think on it. She followed a pack of first years down a stair and out into the courtyard. A gateway led to the grounds beyond the school, and her destination of choice: Hagrid's cottage.
She had spent many a day there in her youth, but had not found time to visit him since her return to the school as an employee. Now was a perfect time. Her old friend might look daft, but he always had relatively sound advice for someone down on their luck. Her only wish was that he still brewed the tea she was so fond of.
Hagrid was outside, rooting around on the westward side of the cottage. Fang, his huge dog, started barking as soon as he realized she was coming. Aislinn smiled and waved, calling out a greeting. "Arrah, Hagrid. Ye still 'ere?"
Hagrid's large face lit up in a grin, and he laughed. "Aislinn, darlin.' I've been wonderin' when yeh would come 'n' visit me. I seen yeh at dinner, but yeh've always been too busy shootin' looks at P'rfessor Snape."
It was Aislinn's turn to laugh. "Forgive me language, but Snape's a right bastard, make no mistake about it." O'Flannery grimaced. "Feckin' fool that 'e is."
Hagrid shrugged. "Mos' students seem ter think so, anyway." He slapped himself in the forehead. "What am I standin' here jawin' about? Come in, darlin' dear, and I'll fix yeh a pot o' tea."
"A pot o' tay is jus' what I've been lookin' for, Hagrid, me ould friend."
Harry had waited until eleven before deciding to go back to the dormitory. Obviously she wasn't showing. He was both confused and angry. She had promised! She couldn't have forgotten. After the craziness of last night, there was no way that Occlumency could have slipped her mind.
Harry sighed. He didn't want to think that Aislinn O'Flannery would stand him up. In fact, he was one hundred percent sure his professor would be there on time. Something big must have come up. He turned from her door and started towards the dormitories in slow, measured steps. His shoes scuffed a cadence on the old floors of the castle; it echoed off the walls giving the old corridors an eerie feeling.
He was just thinking about ghosts when something black flashed up ahead. Harry gulped. He pressed his body closer to the wall, but didn't slow his steps. As he rounded a corner, though, he stopped in his tracks. Professor Snape was hurrying down the hallway as if running from a fire. He turned, and it was too late for Harry to hide.
Snape's glare could have frozen a fire. "Harry Potter. Come here."
Harry gulped and stepped forward. "Yes, Professor?" he asked meekly.
"What are you doing, roaming the hallways at eleven at night?" He voice was acidic and cold at the same time. Harry couldn't tell if it was filled with fear, hate, or both.
"I was supposed to have detention with Professor O'Flannery tonight. I was waiting by her classroom, but she never showed up. I'm heading back to my dormitory now." Harry promptly added the obligatory "sir" before Snape could possibly say anything.
A look of mortification crossed his professor's features. "Well, Mr. Potter, I suggest you hurry." Harry hesitated. What was going on? "MISTER POTTER! DID I NOT JUST TELL YOU TO HURRY!" Snape's eyes widened dangerously. "GET TO YOUR DORMITORY NOW, BEFORE I DOCK ONE HUNDRED POINTS!" Nothing more could be said, because Harry was running down the hallways as fast as he would allow.
He didn't stop until Snape was left far behind him. He leaned against a wall, panting. "What the hell is going on?" he said to himself before walking the rest of the way to Gryffindor. Not only was Harry's initial confusion ebbing, but also he was now more than sure that Snape had something to do with O'Flannery's absence.
He was staring at her back again, horrified. Several long scars traced their way from her lower back to her shoulders, and several small ones crisscrossed her spine like a chain-link fence. Most of it was tattooed over, as if to hide the old wounds. Severus cringed. There was pain there, and anger. Someone had done that to her...
The scene faded. Instead of a woman's back, an old shield now hung in front of his face. His own distorted reflection stared back at him, his face twisted demonically in the silver. It was the same inscription that he had seen so many times before. Reathaí Meán Oíche is ea an Bás. What did it mean? What did all this mean? Snape rubbed his chin and turned away from the shield. Where was this place? He walked to a window, gazing outside, trying to regain a sense of balance. The lawn was clipped, and the gardens manicured with care. Obviously it was a wealthy manor of some kind, but he couldn't put a finger on the location.
Deep down inside he knew this as a dream, but for some odd reason he could not wake up. Everything about it just seemed so, well, real. He could smell the varnish used to keep the furniture oiled, as well as the stale scent in the air. It was as if no one had lived here in a while. That's impossible, he told himself, looking around. Everything was well kept and neat. There was almost no dust on tabletops, and the hardwood floors were waxed and shiny.
Snape thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head to catch whatever it was, it was gone. He shook his head, passing it off as just another anomaly in this already strange dream. He wanted to wake up. His dreams in general were dark and violent; it might look peaceful here now, but there was no doubt someone would die before it was through. Maybe if I walk for a while it will disappear, he thought, and began his way towards what he took to be the kitchen.
It was indeed the kitchen, and he found Aislinn standing at the stove, stirring a pot of something. His surprise melted away almost at once, a feeling that unsettled him. He was supposed to be wary of her, not think of her as a friend! However, his thoughts changed abruptly when she turned to face him. The sockets where her eyes should be were empty and black, and rivulets of blood ran down her cheeks, looking eerily like sanguine tears. Her neck was slashed across the windpipe and vocal cords; Severus could see the musculature in the gash.
He backed away, horrified. She took a step toward him, reaching out her hands as if wanting to be picked up. "Get away from me!" His voice was dry with fear. He could barely speak.
"Severus. They did this to me. They took my eyes, Severus! My eyes!" She tripped and fell, busting her chin on the polished wood of the floor. She raised her body, spitting out three teeth in a shower of bloody saliva. "Severus, please." Blood bubbled between her lips, and she gagged. Snape continued to retreat, and Aislinn continued to follow, pleading.
Snape found himself pinned against a wall. He flattened himself out as much as possible, praying to a god he didn't believe in for some kind of way out. He closed his eyes in a frightened wince, hoping when he opened them there would be only darkness. He could feel the tips of Aislinn's fingers brushing against his face; they were cold and slimy. Something wet brushed against his cheek, leaving a sticky feeling and metallic smell. Then there was only pain as the dagger slid into his heart.
Snape awoke with a shout, gripping his chest as though he had really been stabbed. The nightshirt he was wearing was bathed in sweat, but his body felt cold. He rubbed his cheek involuntarily. It was dry. Damn, he though angrily as he got to his feet and cast the curtains surrounding his bed aside. The air was cold; his breath made little foggy patterns in the air as he exhaled. On an impulse he stripped off his nightshirt, running his hands over his thin chest, searching for a puncture wound. He found nothing, so he slipped the shirt back on. The brandy decanter on the table sparkled tantalizingly, and Severus happily partook.
The strong liquor burned the back of his throat, but at least it scalded away the faint smell of blood that still lingered in his nostrils. He was more confused than afraid, after all most dreams had some kind of hidden subconscious meaning. It was only natural that Aislinn, the source of his daily consternation, would appear, but without eyes? And with her throat slashed? He could come up with thousands of possible ideas, but none seemed to make any sense. Suddenly, Snape realized what he was doing. He slapped himself on the forehead, cursing. I'm starting to sound like Trelawney, he thought dejectedly. Another snifter of brandy went down his throat. This time it didn't burn.
He had to get a confession out of her somehow. As he thought he unlocked a cabinet door, pulling out a tiny vial and drinking about half. He chased it down with more liquor, and then crawled back into bed. Hopefully the dreamless sleep concoction would work; he couldn't stand any more of those horrid dreams. He could feel sleep tickling at his faculties, and he relaxed against the pillow, hoping to embrace the one pure thing left to him. Just before he surrendered, a thought occurred to him in one word: Veritaserum. "That's nice," Severus mumbled, slipping into the darkness of a dreamless night.
Severus rose before dawn had even touched the sky. He stretched, shaking his head to chase away the tired cloudiness from his mind, and tossed back another glass of brandy. The decanter was less than half full; it had been filled to the brim two days earlier. Severus wrinkled his nose as he gazed at the jar. I do not have a drinking problem, he mused to himself. As much as he hated to admit, he had been drinking more and more lately. It would have to stop if he wanted to get anything worthwhile done.
He stripped off his nightshirt in the bathroom, gazing in the mirror at his chest. There was no blood, no wound, nothing that would intimate at assassination attempts. But that dream... It was so fresh in his head. He could still smell the blood; still feel its wet stickiness. Aislinn's mutilated face lurked behind his eyelids. He could still recall the pleading note to her voice as she begged for help, and he had denied her. I will continue to deny her, he told himself angrily, scowling at his reflection. A shower would clear away the dreams from his head, and hopefully steel him for another day of teaching.
He pinned her against the wall, his mouth searching hers out. They kissed hungrily; their hands pulled at each other's robes and clothes, desperately seeking. She let his hands run over her belly, between her thighs, down her legs. She whimpered softly. She hadn't felt this way for a man in years, and her current choice confused her as well as excited her. Their hate fueled their passion. She gasped as he bit her neck, piercing the skin slightly. "Severus," she cooed, straining against him, trembling...
Her eyes shot open. The sheets were twisted around her legs; the light of dawn filtered through open windows onto her yellow silk chemise. Aislinn shivered, disgusted. How could she have even dreamed about that? It was hideous, frightening, Snape was a monster and a fool.
Almost at the same time she sighed, wishing the dream would go on. Truth was, she was lonely. Lupin had left sometime the previous night, leaving her almost friendless. His support though, was invaluable. Snape's accusations had cut her, and cut her deep, and his smile was just what she had needed. However, now he was on his way to Spain-probably already there-and she was still at Hogwarts with a hateful Potions master.
She turned over, burying her head in her pillow. Something warm brushed up against her ear, and sneezed in her hair. Aislinn sat bolt upright, scowling down at the cat. "Bo, that's disgusting," she told him. The cat merely stared at her with placid eyes. She sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He purred contentedly, working his claws into her bed sheets. The cat is a good thing, she thought, smiling. Yankee Doodle was probably off somewhere hunting, so she couldn't close the windows. Fortunately it was not slated to rain that day, so she could probably leave the windows open all day.
Aislinn rose and walked into the bathroom, stripping off her chemise and tossing it onto the floor. She fingered the tattoos ringing her arms, and smiled. They had not hurt. They were beautiful; two black bands of Celtic knots to give her strength. Not that they would really work. It was merely the premise. The tattoo on her middle finger had hurt much more, but a little pain had never really bothered her. It was just a part of being an O'Flannery.
The steam of the bath chased the memory of sleep from her head, and with it the dream she had had. The trick is realizing it is just a dream, thought Aislinn. Nothing more than images in your mind of a subconscious thought or feeling. But then why had her subconscious tricked her into kissing Severus Snape? Some questions were better left unanswered.
Already the day promised to be a long one, and it was not yet eight o'clock. With a sigh Aislinn realized she would be late for breakfast, and probably go without one. Classes started at nine, so she had a while to prepare herself for the daily lesson. Another night of Occlumency would add to her stress. She had come to a completely different realization about Harry. She had originally believed he was a foolish, spoiled child that enjoyed poking his nose where it didn't belong, much like Draco. However, she had learned Harry Potter had lived a life much like hers: scorned by relatives and abandoned early in life. He, too, had an abusive sibling.
She hummed a snatch of a song as she toweled herself off. Another song had been coming to her in bits. She felt as though she was finally getting her muse back, which made her smile. At least she was doing something right. Her hair hung in wet strands as she looked down at her naked body, running her hands over her hips. She had always been thin, almost unhealthily so, but she got all her essential vitamins, so she wasn't concerned. If she lost any more weight, though, something would have to be done about that. She had always intimidated men; whether it was her height or her attitude wasn't clear. Remus seemed to be the only man she connected on a deep personal level with. There was the occasional boyfriend or platonic relationship, but most men seemed wary whenever they were around her. Then, there were those who were just plain nasty. Men like Snape.
She wrapped her hair in a towel, planning to dry it later. She began to go through her morning routine of washing and dressing, and then putting on a bit of makeup to hide tired eyes. Actually, she had been sleeping very well lately. Her dreams had become idyllic, and sometimes downright licentious. Dreams like those had not come in a long time. She half- wondered what they were all about. Various people, various places, but always the same result. She would wake up shuddering in bed, confused and elated at the same time.
Aislinn finished using the towel and hung it up. With three twists she put her hair up in a tight bun and secured it with several pins. Her hair had grown; it was touching her shoulders now. She made a mental note to make a trip into London on the coming Saturday. Her band mates had replied to her post and set a date for a practice. Since there was no way they could possibly come to Hogwarts, she would go to them. She doubted she would even be missed. It would be a chance for her to loosen up and get out of the teacher's robes, to get back to life she used to lead.
She had known each member personally for years. She had met Rob first when she pushed him down the stairs during her seventh year at Hogwarts. He had been a Gryffindor, and thought it was okay to bother Aislinn, the "silent Slytherin," as she was called. He had broken both arms; she had three months of detention. They had been friends ever since. Even when she had gone off to live as a Muggle, they stayed in touch, and he eventually introduced her to Geoff de Villiers, the son of a prominent French merchant and his English wife. Geoff had graduated from Beauxbatons, and had met Rob through a mutual friend.
As it turned out, the two men had decided to form a band. Rob played the drums; Geoff was skilled with a bass guitar. They had come to Aislinn, asking if she knew a guitar player who would be interested. She volunteered immediately. At first they had been skeptical, but after a practice or two they both accepted her into the band, which they had named Murdock. That was her humble beginnings in the world of music stardom. They had gone on to play Muggle clubs throughout England and France; they even played two nights in Dublin. As soon as a club opened in Diagon Alley, they had started performing for a more magical crowd. If the Weird Sisters could do it, so could they.
Aislinn eyed her clock dreamily, but started when she realized it was almost nine. "Léan air!" she groaned, and grabbed an armful of lesson plans and notes before scurrying out the door, barely remembering to set the wards.
The first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were fidgety that morning, and she had to dock fifteen points from each house because of their lack of attentiveness. She hated doing that, but if it must be done, then let it be. The sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors were better, although not by much. She found herself fervently hoping for lunch. It came and went, and Aislinn continued the day, doing the best she could do not to throw down her books and quit on the spot.
The day seemed long to Harry. Potions crawled by, and even Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't have the same spark it normally did. He watched Aislinn out of the corner of his eye the entire class; she seemed tired, if not downright gloomy. Her patience seemed to be wearing thin, and it made Harry wonder what else had happened last night. She did manage to flash a quick smile in his direction before turning to tell Malfoy off for harassing some other poor student. At least she was no longer bitter.
Harry's doubt of his professor's associations had been driven from his mind. Let Seamus think what he would, but Harry now stood firm in his conviction. Aislinn O'Flannery had been an abused child and an insecure young adult, but was now a capable, talented woman. As odd as it seemed to him, Harry was not at all worried about the second approaching Occlumency lesson. In fact, he was ready to give it another try. It was better now that Snape wasn't teaching him, and Harry was no longer afraid of hiding his memories from a teacher he hated.
He had noticed the way Snape glared at her during meals. There was a deep-seated animosity there; one that Harry didn't quite understand. Given, Snape didn't get along with most teachers, notable McGonagall, but at least he managed to keep an air of professionalism around them. With Aislinn, any trace of civility was gone. It was just pure hate and suspicion. He had felt that way before. Surely he couldn't believe she was a Death Eater...
A nagging voice in Harry's head reminded him that up until last night, he had thought the same. He chased away the thought angrily. It's not that way anymore, he screamed inwardly.
As Harry stepped into the Great Hall, his eyes went automatically to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. They both waved to him, and his eyes traveled up to the professor's table. Aislinn was there, chatting happily with Professor Sprout. Snape was staring in his clandestine manner. That was nothing new. Harry waved back to his friends after a moment, smiling. At least they were fairly unpredictable.
As he sat at the table Ron gestured with his head up towards the professor's table. "What do you think is up with them?" he asked, obviously meaning Snape and O'Flannery.
"They hate each other. Isn't it obvious?" answered Hermione, grimacing.
Harry shrugged. "It has something to do about her family and his, well, his background as a Death Eater, I guess. I'm not really sure," he lied. He was more than one hundred percent sure, but after his earlier faux pas, he wasn't about to make another one.
"Personally, I think Professor O'Flannery is wonderful," said Hermione. "I wish you hadn't antagonized her in class yesterday. She's obviously brilliant. I've heard that she speaks about fifteen languages fluently." Hermione shook her head self importantly, and smirked.
Ron slapped his forehead. "Harry, mate, I forgot entirely! How was detention last night?"
Harry sighed. This was the question he had been avoiding like the plague. "It went well, actually. You'll never guess what Dumbledore has dragged me into again." He waited for a while before continuing. "Occlumency. But it's not Snape teaching it, so I feel a little bit better about it."
Both Ron and Hermione looked stunned. Ron's mouth was hanging open. "So he had O'Flannery the Death Eater teach you?" he asked.
"Well, there's something about that. She's not a Death Eater."
"I told you," Hermione said haughtily. "Dumbledore would never hire a Death Eater. Not after what happened with Quirrel and Moody."
Ron looked skeptical. "People can slip through the cracks easily, Hermione. Anyway, Harry, how did you find out?"
Harry shook his head. "Using the shielding charm we learned last year on our own. I saw some things in her head I wish I wouldn't have seen."
"Like what?" asked Ron.
"I'd rather not tell you, if you don't mind. It's a bit private."
Ron chuckled. "Does she want your body or something?"
"Ron!" chided Hermione.
Harry smiled sadly. "No. I just saw what happened to her at the hands of Death Eaters. It wasn't pretty, although it's left me with more questions than answers."
Hermione was nodding her head. Ron just sat there with a thoughtful look on his face. "I think she's wonderful," mumbled Hermione. "She's one Defense teacher I wouldn't want to see leave."
Harry agreed completely. His lessons with O'Flannery might just be an asset worth having.
Snape was waiting in the sitting room of his chambers, pacing nervously. He was about to take a step in deception he thought he would never resort to using on a coworker. However, he had to be sure about her background, and this way was almost guaranteed to provide him with answers. He threw himself down on the couch, fidgeting. He wasn't quite sure if she would come. She had to be suspicious. After all, he had been cruel to her up until that night, and his sudden change in moods would cause almost anyone to second guess his actions.
He had approached her after dinner, using the pretense of Order business to arrange a meeting. It would just be him and her, he had said, stressing the need for absolute secrecy. Dumbledore would be informed after the meeting had taken place. She had agreed after only a moment of contemplation, no doubt believing that despite his posturing, that he was harmless. Well he had something to show her!
They would be meeting in his chambers around eight thirty. Snape checked his preparations quickly. One could never be too prepared. The two cups of coffee were arranged on a table, with cream and sugar nearby. The veritaserum had already been added to one cup, the cup intended for Aislinn O'Flannery. He smiled evilly to himself. If it hadn't been for a sleepless night, he would have never thought of the idea. At least something had to be said for insomnia.
A knock on the door caused him to start. He rose quickly, and in three steps opened the door to see a placid Aislinn O'Flannery staring him in the face. He nodded a hello and beckoned her in. He pushed the door shut behind her as she settled herself on the couch.
"Severus," she began, "I don't know why you called me here, but I must say I was less than thrilled in coming."
"I can understand. I have been rather terse with you lately, but I am more than sure you know the reason behind it."
She nodded. "I can guess."
Snape sat, pressing his fingertips together in a steeple. "I fear I must address that. I am, to say the least, a bit suspicious of your family heritage, Miss O'Flannery, but I might be willing to overlook it if you can somehow prove you're not affiliated with Voldemort."
Aislinn huffed. "I shouldn't have to prove myself to you, Severus Snape." A quick look at her face told Snape she was offended, but he wouldn't let that stop him now.
"I know you're averse. Believe me, I would feel the same if I were in your position. However, you absolutely must understand I am only doing this for my personal conviction, as well as that of the Order. I saw how badly you were received last night."
"It was your doing, Snape."
Snape spread his hands wide in a gesture of well meaning. "Miss O'Flannery, I merely told what I had seen. If it may help, though, I am sorry."
Aislinn sat for a while as if considering. "Apology accepted, Severus. Now what is it in you want?"
Snape inwardly shouted for joy. Everything was going perfectly. "Coffee?" he asked, nodding to the cup closest to her. She raised an eyebrow and reached for the sugar. Snape poured a bit of cream into his own, untouched cup. As Aislinn reached for it her fingers brushed his wrist, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Her hands were freezing.
She smiled at him as she took her first sip. "Thank you," she mumbled. "Now, what was it that you wanted?"
Snape shrugged. "Order business really. As a spy for the Order, I need to know what it is you intend to do with your skills."
Aislinn contemplated a bit, drinking the drugged coffee. "I'm not really sure as of yet. I've thought about being a Muggle correspondent. After all, I did spend several years living as one."
Snape nodded. "I see. If you're interested in spying on Voldemort, we'd probably have to get you a disguise. No doubt he would recognize you as an O'Flannery otherwise."
"Yes. Yes, of course," Aislinn nodded sleepily. The potion was taking effect. "I look so much like my father." Her eyes closed momentarily, and her head lolled to one side. She took a deep swig of the coffee, finishing the cup.
Severus waited. In a few minutes she would completely under his control. This forced niceness made him want to vomit. She was an object he loathed, and just having her in his chambers was sickening. "With a bit of polyjuice potion I doubt it would be a problem."
"I've been meaning to speak to you about that, Severus. If you remember, you sent ten transforming students into my classroom yesterday."
"I'm very sorry, Miss O'Flannery. You see, there was not enough time for them to fully transform before the bell rang."
O'Flannery nodded. "I unnerstand. I completely unnerstand." She raised her arm halfheartedly. "Severus, did ye put somethin' in th' drink?" was the last thing she said before falling into a stupor.
Severus stood up quickly, pushing her into a reclining position on the couch. Her head lolled to one side; her eyes were open but were blank. Snape grinned. It had worked perfectly. O'Flannery had enough veritaserum in her system to put out an elephant. She would not wake for hours.
He watched her as he finished his coffee, brainstorming on how to proceed. He decided to begin with a simple question. "O'Flannery, who was your father?"
"Alastair Patrick O'Flannery." Her voice had become deeper, rougher. The fake English accent was gone; instead a thick Irish slur replaced it.
"Who was your mother?"
"Bean Mhi Shaughnessy-O'Flannery."
"Where were you born?"
"Saolaíodh in Éirinn mé," she replied. Snape had never heard a language quite like it. He had no idea what it meant.
"Repeat it in English. Where were you born?" he asked, hoping he would get something more useful out of her.
"Ireland," she replied. "In Cork."
"Good. Now, Miss O'Flannery, tell me about your life." Snape sat back. He realized he would probably be there for a long time, but he was willing to sacrifice sleep for answers.
"I am thirty-three years old. I was born in 1969 t' th' O'Flannery's o' Cork. Me fayther was a Death Eater, as was me mum. I have an older brother."
"What is his name?" Snape interrupted.
"Me brother is Richard O'Flannery. I had a sister once."
Once again, Snape felt the need to cut in. "Miss O'Flannery, what happened to your sister?"
Aislinn shuddered. "Me fayther killed 'er. She was twenty."
Snape shuddered. The very thought that a father could do that to his own flesh and blood made him feel queasy. He was beginning to second-guess his reasoning. "Please continue."
"Me family lived outside o' Cork, in Ireland. We were wealthy. Th' children had ev'rything they wanted. My fayther was Voldemort's right hand. He wanted us children t' follow in his footsteps. Richard took a Dark Mark when 'e was thirteen. He went to Durmstrang."
"O'Flannery, did you become a Death Eater?" Snape asked, sitting on the edge of the couch. Now was the moment of truth.
"Nay. Fayther wanted me to, but I didn't. So 'e hurt me." Aislinn blinked, but her eyes were still unfocused. "I was eleven when I started school at 'Ogwarts. I was a Slytherin."
Severus thought back to his own boyhood days. When he was in his seventh year, she would be a first year... He seemed to remember her face. In that first year she had been all smiles, with a lack of understanding about the ways of the world. What had changed? He hadn't known her; in fact he could barely even recall her face. It came in flashes. It startled him he was able to remember a lowly first year. However, he had been Head Boy; no doubt he must have helped her out in the past. "Please continue, O'Flannery."
"Fayther wanted me to take th' Dark Mark when I was thirteen. I didn't. So Fayther took me to a Dark Revel in Cork. Fayther and Richard beat me. I lost three teeth." Aislinn paused. "I was afraid, but I didn't take th' Mark. I went back to school. I was fourteen when me brother's friend raped me. It hurt."
"What was his name?" asked Severus shakily.
"Lucius Malfoy," Aislinn responded.
Snape gasped. Lucius had been a whoremonger, but he had never mentioned anything about rape. Malfoy had always spoken of his conquests as consensual; most girls would have gladly slept with him. "He did no such thing," Snape said under his breath.
"Yes. It was summer. I was in me room. Richard knocked on th' door, sayin' he had a friend who thought I was cute. Richard brought me to his room and locked me in. Lucius was hiding in a corner. He kicked me in the back. I fell. He broke me nose and kicked me i' the stomach. I fought. He hit me. I passed out, an' when I woke I was bleedin' and in pain. He had raped me."
Snape's mind was reeling. It had never occurred to him what he would learn about her life. He had assumed she had been a wealthy girl, spoiled and well treated by a doting father for taking the Dark Mark and serving Voldemort. He stood, reaching for the brandy. He almost thought better of it, but by the time he had made a decision the liquor was already in the snifter. He downed it in a single gulp, and turned to look at the woman on his couch. Her eyes had rolled back in her head; only the whites showed. Her body was rigid, hands crossed over her chest as though she were dead. "Go on," he whispered.
"I told me fayther. Instead of believin' me, Fayther called me a liar and took me to another Revel. They tied me to a pole and whipped me. I still have the scars. That night Fayther watched as five men raped me. I was only fourteen. After that, me fayther took me to Revels every month. It was horrible."
Tears had been pooling in the corners of her eyes, and finally spilled over. Severus had to fight the urge to lean over and wipe them away. He had wanted to know the truth, and now he knew it. He swallowed hard. He was willing to sacrifice her trust and well being for his own. "Did you ever take the Dark Mark, O'Flannery?" he asked.
"Nay. Never. Fayther always hated me for that; ev'ry time I refused I was beaten, raped, or both."
"Jesus," Severus muttered under his breath. This was the price you pay. "Did you go to school?"
"Yes. I never spoke. People were afraid o' me; they all knew about me family. I had a few friends; four other Irish girls. Even me own house hated me. One day they held me down and shaved me head. I slit my wrists that night. Fayther came to school and threatened to take me home. I never tried to kill meself again." Aislinn paused, taking several deep breaths. "I was fifteen when Voldemort was defeated. Me fayther died soon after."
"How did he die?" Snape asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"He was killed by Aurors. I never cried over him." O'Flannery's face was resolute now, although still tear-stained.
"Did the beatings stop, Miss O'Flannery?"
Aislinn shuddered. "Nay, they dinnae. Me brother and mum were still alive, although they kept a low profile. I didn't want t' go home, ever. Mum would beat me. She drove an ice pick through me hand once because I called 'er a right ould bitch. No fecking respect, she said."
Severus gingerly looked at her hand. On the right one he could see a faded pink scar in the middle of her palm, a clear indication she was not lying. "What happened then?"
"I grew up. I got older. The beatings continued at th' hands o' Richard. Mum was caught in London when I was seventeen. She's in Azkaban." Aislinn stopped speaking as she rolled her head to one side. "I 'ope she stays."
"What happened to Richard?" inquired Snape.
"It was the summer between me sixth and seventh years at 'Ogwarts. Richard took me t' London, to an ould friend. I suffered th' worst beatin' of me life that day. Suddenly, a group o' Aurors bust in and took me brother. I was scared, and ran. I was found, an' sent to th' hospital there." O'Flannery's hands twitched nervously. "I was on me own. I went back t' 'Ogwarts, and graduated that year. I knew a boy named Rob; he's as old as I am, and I met a man named Remus Lupin through a mutual friend. We moved in t'gether."
Snape seethed. Fucking Lupin, he thought. So they're hadn't been just a casual relationship between them. "And?" he asked, tersely.
"I started playing guitar. It was me savior, I guess. Those three years after school I did nothin' except work wi' the Tuatha de Dannan. I lived as a Muggle, startin' in 1990. I was 21."
"What happened then? And what's the Tuatha de Dannan?" The word sounded odd in Snape's throat, but he tried to pronounce it the best he could.
O'Flannery sighed. It sounded wistful. "I went t' school in London. Got meself a degree in forensic anthropology and worked in Dublin fer a year or so. Did work on th' Skelligs, too. Moved back t' London and worked for th' British Museum." She paused. "Tuatha de Dannan? Ah, what we were, what we were." She said no more about it, so Snape decided to move on.
"What was your life like at the time? Did you ever decide to become a Death Eater?" Snape would not let go of the tiny shred of hope that she would confess; that this would not all be in vain.
"I dated. Most of me boyfriends were abusive like Fayther. They smacked me around. I felt like everythin' was all me own fault. I wanted t' die. I got tattooed up t' hide th' scars. Former Death Eaters would send me threats. One man found me; kept me locked up for three days. I eventually stole 'is wand; used the Cruciatus. The only time." O'Flannery's body shivered involuntarily. "I was thinkin' about killin' meself again."
Snape leaned forward. "What changed your mind?"
"I met Remus again. Also joined up with two old friends that stuck with me through it all, and we started a band. I'm still in it. Got meself a job at th' Ministry as an Auror two years ago. Ev'ryone assumed I was a Death Eater, so I quit last December. I spoke t' Dumbledore about a job as a Defense teacher. I came to 'Ogwarts again, a better person than I was when I left."
Her story was seemingly over. However, Snape could not resist one final question. "And Severus Snape? What do you think of him?"
Aislinn's slack face contorted. "I hate him. He's cruel. A real bastard. I do nothin' and he hates me for it. He's convinced I'm a Death Eater. I have nothin' to prove t' him."
Snape stood quickly. "You've proved it," he said quietly, and poured himself more brandy. Now all that was left was to wait for O'Flannery to wake. He thought quickly, trying to find a place to put her. His head spun. He would have to carry her to her chambers, hoping no one would see him.
He checked the time. It was ten thirty; he would wait thirty more minutes before getting rid of her. Snape turned and looked at her. She looked ill. Her eyes were still open and rolled back; her mouth was slack. And yet at the same time she looked forlorn and lonely. He couldn't decide if he wanted to get rid of her or hold her close.
Suddenly, the magnitude of what he had done hit him. He spun on his heel, tossing the glass of brandy at the wall. A ragged yell escaped his throat. "Shit!" He had completely betrayed her. Her past was a painful mass of anger and blood, and he had taken that from her against her will. This was yet another reason to hate himself. He had wanted answers. Answers were what he had received.
"Miss O'Flannery, could you ever forgive me?" he asked, his back towards her.
"I don't know. Níhn cinnle in aon chor." She had slipped back into that strange language. Snape glanced over his shoulder. At least he was sure of her allegiance now. But he had learned it at what cost? There was no way he could avoid the accusations she would throw at him. Hopefully they could work it out and go back to how they had been: silent and mutually suspicious. At the moment he didn't know who to hate more. Was it her fault for not telling him outright? Or was it his for taking her past from her by dubious means?
Severus sighed. He could not stand to have her lying there, reminding him of what he had done. Two long steps brought him to her side. He scooped her up gently, noting the fact she weighed almost nothing. Her head sagged backwards, over his arm. Empty eyes stared into his, accusing in their blankness. At eleven o'clock he could sneak through the hallways undetected by students and teachers alike.
The hallways themselves were cold, and seemed to be filled with resounding echoes. Moonlight through thin windows cast eerie shadows on the floor. Occasionally O'Flannery would mutter something unintelligible under her breath, whether it was a curse or a passing thought was unknown.
At long last Snape recognized the approaching door as her chambers. The telltale satyr statue was a reminder of the time she had duped him into listening at her door. Snape grimaced. He hated to be caught unawares in anything. "How do you unlock the door?" he asked roughly.
"I snap me fingers twice." Aislinn's voice sounded hollow.
Snape grunted. "Is there any other way?" he asked. He wasn't about to leave her in the middle of the hallway.
"Yes. Audentes fortuna juvat. It's Latin." The door unlocked, and Snape pushed it open. A raucous scream almost caused him to drop O'Flannery, but he steadied himself when he saw the golden eagle.
"Damn bird," he muttered, and set the woman down on her bed. She would sleep for hours yet, as he should be doing. He turned and exited the room, cursing himself for his own stupidity and curiosity that had damaged everything.
Aislinn O'Flannery buried her head further underneath the covers, trying to escape from the morning sun and her own anger. The fragmentary memories were coming back to her: Snape tricking her into coming into his chambers, Snape giving her drugged coffee, Snape stealing information from her without her knowing. That bastard! She sobbed into her pillow. This was absolute treason.
I should have known, she thought dejectedly. His manner should have given him away. For once he had been if not kind, at least accommodating. She cursed herself for falling into his trap. She raised her head and checked a clock. Eleven in the morning. At that moment she should be teaching sixth year Defense, but she was too afraid of bursting into tears in front of the class.
Yankee Doodle caught her eye as he preened his feathers. "Ye good- fer-nothin' bird! Ye should have taken care o' him! Killed him!" The eagle rustled his feathers, and flew out the window. Even Bo was nowhere to be seen. Aislinn groaned as she turned over. Her head was killing her. "Bastard," was all she said.
She pushed herself up and realized she had been sleeping in her clothes. She stripped them off, tossing them onto the back of a chair. She reached around, fingering the scars on her lower back. There was no pain in them now, only the lingering memory of blood. Sometimes she wished for something to hurt, something to remind her of the agony she went through to survive. Maybe then she would not fall into traps so easily.
She saw no reason to get dressed today. She would not be going out. The silk chemise was where she had left it; Aislinn pulled it on over her head. She needed time to think. She needed to sort out her feelings; in fact she was feeling almost nothing. She was in a state of numbness and disbelief. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had been done to her. She grimaced.
A knock at the door pulled her out of her reverie. She didn't answer; hoping whoever it was would take the hint and go away.
"Miss O'Flannery, will you open the door?" Dumbledore's voice was both commanding and friendly at the same time.
Aislinn sighed and snapped twice. "Headmaster, the door is unlocked, but I would prefer if you would be kind and fuck off."
The door opened. Dumbldore was smiling. "This is more like the young Aislinn I knew at Hogwarts. Although she was slightly less happy than the current Aislinn."
She smiled halfheartedly. "I wish I could say the same today, Headmaster."
Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. "We missed you at breakfast, Miss O'Flannery." When she didn't answer, he asked, "May I sit down?"
Aislinn waved her hand in a gesture of acquiescence. "Please, do." She flopped down on her bed, checking for the cat out of habit. "Albus, I don't know if I want to do this anymore."
"Do what?" Dumbledore asked.
"This." Aislinn indicated the room in a wide sweep of her arm. "Teach. I feel less than useful here." She sighed. "And I can't stand anymore of Severus Snape."
A knowing glint surfaced in Dumbledore's eye. "Yes, he is rather unkind to you, isn't he?"
"That's not entirely it, Headmaster. Last night he-"
"Yes?" Albus pried.
"-He used his position to take advantage of me." She fairly spit it out. The anger was still washing over her in waves. It took almost all her self-control not to walk into his classroom and strangle him in front of the first years.
"I would hardly believe Severus would do something of a carnal nature, Aislinn," Dumbledore began. "It's not him."
"Oh, but it's perfectly fine to use deception, is it?" Aislinn screamed. "It's fine for him to drug my coffee and, when I can't do anything to defend myself, take my past from me? Well I don't fecking think so!" Her false accent had been lost in her tirade. "I dinnae unnerstand you, Albus. So 'e can't fuck me, but if 'e uses that veritaserum it's fine?" Tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes. "It hurts, Albus. I came 'ere to get away from all that shite, and it follows me."
Dumbledore rose. "Aislinn, darling. Please." He hugged her close, letting her sob on his shoulder. "Of course it's not all right. In fact, I had no idea he would even attempt such a thing. This is treason in the highest degree and must not go excused." He paused, as if thinking. "I just don't understand why he did it."
"'E thinks I'm a Death Eater, that's why. 'E's a filthy bastard, Albus. Tá an ghráin agam ar an bhfear sin."
"You know I don't speak Gaelic, love," said Dumbledore, stroking her head.
Aislinn raised her head and looked into his eyes. "Albus, yeer the closes' thing t' a fayther I've ever had. Unnerstand that."
Dumbledore nodded, truly touched. "That means a lot to me, Aislinn. But tell me, will you be returning to your post any time soon?"
She sighed, once again adopting her cultured British accent. "I don't know, Headmaster. I think, for the time being, I will prepare my resignation letter. Send an owl to Lupin. I'm sure he would be more than happy to fill in for me."
Dumbledore nodded his head slowly. "I see." He stood slowly and walked to the door. "I do hope you change your mind, Miss O'Flannery. You are a valuable asset to this school, no matter what Severus Snape thinks," he said, and closed the door behind him.
Aislinn collapsed onto her bed, crossing her arms over head in a gesture of protection. She didn't want to leave, but at the same time she saw no reason in staying. Everyone already assumed she was an agent of Voldemort, and Snape's obvious breach of trust had soured the entire experience for her. She had learned the hard way not to give up on the future, but she couldn't see a future in which there was constant distrust.
Where is my fucking cat, she thought. Bo was missing in action when he should be there for comfort. Oh well. She always had nicotine.
Aislinn rolled over, grabbing her pack of smokes from her bedside table and lighting it sloppily. She stood up and perched precariously on the ledge outside her window. Who cares if she was in her pajamas? If they hadn't seen it yet, it was high time they did. But, much to her relief, no one was wandering around the lake. The smoke went into her lungs, calming her. She slumped against the window jamb. "Fuck!" was all she said.
Cigarette finished; she flicked the butt out of her window and turned. Her clothes from last night were still draped over the chair: school robes, skirt, shirt, everything. Aislinn sighed and tried to ignore the mess, but her early years of living in almost perfect cleanliness won over. She picked up the garments, putting them into a bureau drawer reserved especially for dirty clothes. A new outfit was selected for the day, and the chemise once again graced the end of her bed.
I know I said I wouldn't get dressed today, she reflected, but I can't just sit around in my room feeling sorry for myself. I need to get out and preferably torture Severus Snape in a most uncomfortable way. Aislinn grinned as she thought of the pain she would like to inflict on him. He could never withstand twenty lashes with a cat-o-nine tails. He would probably cry like a little girl, servant of Voldemort or not. The Cruciatus might be excruciating, but Muggles did think up some of the vilest tortures ever. Aislinn turned to survey herself in a mirror, and upon finding herself presentable, promptly left the room. Two snaps ensured no one would break in, and she was on her way.
She would not be teaching class again. Best if she could enjoy her last few days here with something resembling dignity. Lupin would be happy for a job; he had been perpetually unemployed since his last stint as a teacher at Hogwarts. Aislinn had been helping to support him, but according to her way of thinking, he needed more food. And a good set of clothes, a voice in the back of her head added. Aislinn sniffed. "Exactly," she said aloud, to no one in particular.
A bell rang, and the hallways began to fill with students. Some gave her a puzzled look, but most just seemed to ignore her. She wondered who was filling in for her. Best not to think on it. She followed a pack of first years down a stair and out into the courtyard. A gateway led to the grounds beyond the school, and her destination of choice: Hagrid's cottage.
She had spent many a day there in her youth, but had not found time to visit him since her return to the school as an employee. Now was a perfect time. Her old friend might look daft, but he always had relatively sound advice for someone down on their luck. Her only wish was that he still brewed the tea she was so fond of.
Hagrid was outside, rooting around on the westward side of the cottage. Fang, his huge dog, started barking as soon as he realized she was coming. Aislinn smiled and waved, calling out a greeting. "Arrah, Hagrid. Ye still 'ere?"
Hagrid's large face lit up in a grin, and he laughed. "Aislinn, darlin.' I've been wonderin' when yeh would come 'n' visit me. I seen yeh at dinner, but yeh've always been too busy shootin' looks at P'rfessor Snape."
It was Aislinn's turn to laugh. "Forgive me language, but Snape's a right bastard, make no mistake about it." O'Flannery grimaced. "Feckin' fool that 'e is."
Hagrid shrugged. "Mos' students seem ter think so, anyway." He slapped himself in the forehead. "What am I standin' here jawin' about? Come in, darlin' dear, and I'll fix yeh a pot o' tea."
"A pot o' tay is jus' what I've been lookin' for, Hagrid, me ould friend."
Harry had waited until eleven before deciding to go back to the dormitory. Obviously she wasn't showing. He was both confused and angry. She had promised! She couldn't have forgotten. After the craziness of last night, there was no way that Occlumency could have slipped her mind.
Harry sighed. He didn't want to think that Aislinn O'Flannery would stand him up. In fact, he was one hundred percent sure his professor would be there on time. Something big must have come up. He turned from her door and started towards the dormitories in slow, measured steps. His shoes scuffed a cadence on the old floors of the castle; it echoed off the walls giving the old corridors an eerie feeling.
He was just thinking about ghosts when something black flashed up ahead. Harry gulped. He pressed his body closer to the wall, but didn't slow his steps. As he rounded a corner, though, he stopped in his tracks. Professor Snape was hurrying down the hallway as if running from a fire. He turned, and it was too late for Harry to hide.
Snape's glare could have frozen a fire. "Harry Potter. Come here."
Harry gulped and stepped forward. "Yes, Professor?" he asked meekly.
"What are you doing, roaming the hallways at eleven at night?" He voice was acidic and cold at the same time. Harry couldn't tell if it was filled with fear, hate, or both.
"I was supposed to have detention with Professor O'Flannery tonight. I was waiting by her classroom, but she never showed up. I'm heading back to my dormitory now." Harry promptly added the obligatory "sir" before Snape could possibly say anything.
A look of mortification crossed his professor's features. "Well, Mr. Potter, I suggest you hurry." Harry hesitated. What was going on? "MISTER POTTER! DID I NOT JUST TELL YOU TO HURRY!" Snape's eyes widened dangerously. "GET TO YOUR DORMITORY NOW, BEFORE I DOCK ONE HUNDRED POINTS!" Nothing more could be said, because Harry was running down the hallways as fast as he would allow.
He didn't stop until Snape was left far behind him. He leaned against a wall, panting. "What the hell is going on?" he said to himself before walking the rest of the way to Gryffindor. Not only was Harry's initial confusion ebbing, but also he was now more than sure that Snape had something to do with O'Flannery's absence.