"I am in absolute shock, Severus Snape. This is completely unacceptable.
The use of deception on a coworker cannot be excused." Albus Dumbledore
was furious. Snape had been called into his chambers believing it was
something in conjunction with Order of the Phoenix. However, he had been
sorely mistaken.
"I'm very sorry, Headmaster," Snape mumbled to the floor.
"Sorry, Severus? Save your apologies for Miss O'Flannery." The worst thing about Dumbledore's reproaches was not harsh words or yelling, quite the contrary. Albus never raised his voice. Instead, every word was delivered in a conversational tone, punctuated by occasional reproaching looks. It was the worst form of punishment one could ever expect.
"Headmaster-"Snape began.
Dumbledore cut him off abruptly. "Severus, I had expected more of you. You acted like a third year student with a vendetta. Using such dubious means on a fellow professor is intolerable."
Snape grimaced. "What shall I do then, Headmaster? How do you suggest that I remedy this situation?"
"I was originally considering dismissing you from the staff."
Snape looked up from the floor at once and gaped. "Headmaster!"
Dumbledore waved his hand in a motion to be silent. "I have since rethought my decision. Instead, you will be docked two weeks of your pay, as well as be responsible for hallway patrols the entire month of November." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Also, I want a personal apology to Aislinn O'Flannery. Your cruelty to her was uncalled for. You can go now, Severus."
Snape stood and turned to go, but once again turned to face his employer and old friend. "Headmaster, you can surely understand."
Albus nodded. "I can indeed, Severus, but you must understand that some methods should be all together avoided. I hope your curiosity is satisfied now."
Snape nodded once, and promptly exited the chamber.
The hallway was deserted, but nonetheless he hurried to his chamber, shunning any contact. Dismissing him from the staff! He could barely believe it. There was no way Dumbledore could even have thought of getting rid of him! What ever happened to 'you're the best potions master this school has ever had?'
Severus slammed the door behind him, seething. He tried to ignore the voice in his head screaming for recognition, but his inattention to it was in vain. He let the guilt wash over him as he poured himself the familiar snifter of liquor. At the moment, all he wanted was to get very drunk.
Dumbledore was right, the voice said. You wronged her, Severus Snape. In no way did she deserve being duped by the likes of you.
"Shut up!" screamed Severus. "Just shut up! I'm sorry!" He curled up onto the floor, sobs wracking his body. It had been so long since he had cried. O'Flannery had turned him into an emotional wreck. He cursed her, and every good thing she stood for. She was everything that had been denied to him since boyhood.
Eventually, it seemed there were no tears left in him which to cry. The emotion exhausted him; he had no desire to rise up off the cold floor. If he got up, he would have to continue to face the day, the coming year, the rest of his life. It would be so much easier to let life pass quickly from his frame.
There were several ingredients in his potion cabinet, which, if taken together would cause sleep, paralysis, then death. It was a perfect combination. No one would expect it, and he doubted anyone would care. Except Albus, the voice said, chiding.
Snape sat up on one arm, looking longingly at the full brandy snifter on the desktop. He shook his melancholy off like a cloak, standing to rearrange his teacher's robes. Living would have to do for now. Dumbledore was right, but he would weather this as he weathered everything else: perseverance and time. Despite that, he could not stop his mind from sliding back to the horrible things he had learned about O'Flannery. He was not fit to lick her shoe, but yet there he was, assuming he knew all. How many times had he told himself he could not play god? He sneered. God had no place in this equation. It was just he, a woman, and his bitter mistakes.
Classes today had been subdued. Most had learned of O'Flannery's strange absence, and more than a few were confused about it. There were even rumors circulating that she would resign. Snape had to hold tight to his temper, but very few students even bothered angering him. All in all there was a strange depression hanging over the school. It fitted his mood perfectly.
Now, sitting in front of his empty fireplace, he reflected on the events of last night, dissecting each thing. He approached her responses from every angle, trying to find rhyme or reason in her suffering. He had to admit there was a twang of jealousy; he was no longer the professor with the most painful past. Despite his folly, he still cursed her.
Severus mused, thinking on the song he had heard a few nights ago. One particular line had caught his attention, and he spoke it aloud. "But we carry on our backs the burden time always reveals: the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal." He sighed. It all sounded so beautiful. He had no idea she could sing like that.
A memory tickled at the back of his mind. He had been walking back from Knockturn Alley before the term had started. He had met Goyle, the fool, and noticed a club on the corner. A woman had been singing and playing guitar. That same woman, the one that had so unnerved him, was now teaching with him.
Snape groaned. Life had been hitting him with too many coincidences, and he didn't like it. First it was the dreams. Then, the dreams had become reality. People he had seen in his head, or even on the street, were becoming key figures in the way his life was going. Aislinn O'Flannery was a case in point. A brief glance of her in a club had come to determine whether or not he would continue to be on the teaching staff at Hogwarts.
He cursed under his breath. Dinner was approaching; he would have to face her. Hopefully she would wait to throttle him in private. There was little doubt in his mind that she would be leaving, a fact that Snape was thankful for. This was just one of those irreconcilable differences, except in this case neither participant was married. They were rivals in the purest sense of the word. Except he had to go off and complicate things. He could only pray she would be gone by the end of next week.
Snape sat until dinner, thinking on life in general and what he would do when he was old enough to retire. Maybe he would buy a house on the English coast and live in solitude until he died. It sounded appealing: peace and quiet, with only the extreme remoteness as a companion. After spending many of his years with students, it would be a welcome change. He sighed as he stood. The nights of not sleeping were finally catching up to him. His eyelids felt heavy and his head drooped. Not to mention the beginnings of a headache were creeping at his temples.
He walked down the hallway rubbing the bridge of his nose. Most students were already in the Great Hall, if the lack of traffic had anything to do with it. Snape hoped he wouldn't be too late. He could always blame it on guilt. He didn't know how he was going to face O'Flannery; a professor could not just change seats without it being noticed and remarked upon. A sure way to spark controversy was to suddenly move, or do anything unexpected.
He ascended the platform and took a seat as his customary place. However, something felt wrong. He looked around him, and noticed the glaring gap to his right. O'Flannery was gone. There was no sign she had even been there. Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow and turned to Professor Flitwick. "Do you have any idea where Miss O'Flannery is?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant.
Flitwick nodded. "Rumor is, she's taking meals in her room. Won't give a reason why, though."
Snape tried his best to look just as confused even though he knew the reason quite well. It was to avoid him. For once he could find no fault in her logic. If he had the ability, he would avoid himself. Severus sighed, and cursed under his breath. He had been fairly hungry, but his appetite had vanished suddenly at seeing his former nemesis' absence. Damn him and his quest for knowledge. Snape, old boy, there is no way you can know the truth about everything and not get burned, he thought to himself sadly.
Aislinn O'Flannery watched him over the rims of her sunglasses. He had been puttering around for hours, but she could see his energy was dissipating. She smiled at him when he looked her way, but then frowned as he turned into another store.
Her band was a good two hours late, and she was getting anxious. It wasn't exactly anger, just impatience. She and Lupin were to meet them at a café, but they were there early. So, they had lunch and waited. And waited. And waited. She couldn't help but wonder what was holding them up. Lupin stepped out of the store, and Aislinn waved him over.
"Remus, darlin', d'ye have any idea where they are?"
Lupin shrugged. "I have no idea Aislinn. Traffic perhaps?"
Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Ye forgit that I lived in London f'r years, an' traffic was never this bad. I think they stood us up." For a moment Lupin looked shocked, but then smiled.
"Always a joke, always a bad situation, right?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Aislinn nodded, but then promptly began gazing over her friend's left shoulder. Gazing hard. Remus turned, searching for what Aislinn was staring at. Two men were peering at them from around a corner of a building. They were giggling like girls, and Lupin promptly shot them a rude gesture with his hand. Aislinn, on the other hand, beckoned them like an angry mother.
"Where the hell have ye been?" she yelled. "We've been here a good two hours, and yee're off fecking around while we're waiting. I have a mind t' give ye a good fong in the arse, ye filthy, joking-"
"Aislinn, my sweet Irish flower, we're here now," one chimed in, cutting her off in the middle of her tirade.
The other jumped in. "Yes, Aislinn, your voice is like the music of a sweet May morning. Your face would inspire sonnets of gentility and kindness." He grinned a gap-toothed smile.
Aislinn's face relaxed, and she even smiled back. "Cad eile?" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I do what I can." A moment of silence passed between them, until Lupin raised an eyebrow.
"Are you practicing or not?" he asked. "As for me, I'm running a few quick errands in Diagon Alley. I have to stock up on supplies if I'm to be teaching again."
The two men shot Remus and Aislinn a questioning look, but shrugged it off. Aislinn shot Lupin a sad smile and gave him a quick hug. "I'll see ye again at the end o' the day, all right?" She turned, following the other two down a street. She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if trying to keep warm. That was a gesture all too common for her now.
It made her look lost, but lost was how she felt at the moment. She didn't know where she was going in life. Yet another unexpected turn had taken her from her goal. Where once her path had looked clear, it was now clouded and gray. She sighed loudly. "Damn you, Snape," she muttered under her breath.
The tallest man was leading the group; he turned to look at her. "Did you say something, Aislinn?"
Aislinn shook her head vigorously, trying to deny anything to both her friend and herself. The man fixed her with a glare. "Okay, Rob, ye win. I said 'Damn you Snape,' if that makes any sense t' ye." She put her hands on her hips and jutted her lower jaw out.
"Makes enough sense to know that something's wrong. When we get to the warehouse you're telling us all about it." He shook his finger at her as if chiding a grumpy child and turned his back. Aislinn shot her middle finger at him.
The warehouse in question was a square brick building owned by Geoff's father. It was normally filled with boxes of imports and merchandise, but Geoff had cleared out a special room for band practice. The walls had noise absorbing pads stapled to them and several electrical hookups for amps and microphones. It reminded Aislinn of a makeshift studio, which in a sense it was.
She smiled as she remembered the drunken parties they had thrown there, and the anger of Geoff's father as he swore at them in French. Both Geoff and Aislinn had blushed, but Rob had no idea what the old man was yelling at them. The most he could say in French was "Je voudrais un autre biere, s'il vous plaît." Aislinn, however, understood every word of his obscenity laced tirade, and tried to placate as best she could. She guessed her tendency to please was based on years of violent upbringing, but something about old, angry men scared her.
She was brought out of her private thoughts by running right into Geoff's back. He grunted and turned. "What?"
Aislinn smiled. "I was rememberin' when yeer fayther tried t' kick our arses f'r drinkin' in th' warehouse."
"I remember that too. Geoff, what was your girl's name?"
"Saiorse," Aislinn chimed in.
Geoff nodded gingerly. "Yeah, that was her. She turned out to be a lesbian in the long run. Ashy, you have odd friends."
Aislinn clenched her fists angrily. "What have I told you about calling me Ashy?" She suddenly lashed out, kicking her old friend in the butt. "If you call me Ashy, I call you Geoffrey, remember?"
Geoff grimaced. "Deal." He held out his hand, shaking hers. "No more Ashy."
Aislinn nodded. "Good. 'S Aislinn. Not Ashy, Ash, or, f'r the love o' God, not Mick!" She giggled. "Remember that girl, that English girl, that thought it would be fine t' call me Mick b'cause I was Irish?"
Rob nodded. "You gave her a good 'fonging,' to use your wording."
"A right ould fonging too. Bet she couldn't sit down f'r a week!" Aislinn cracked her knuckles.
"Aislinn, yee're a righ' oul' bitch, ye are. I t'ink dat ye should 'ead 'ome t' 'Ogwarts," Rob giggled, exaggerating her accent.
Aislinn jumped around in a circle in agitation. "I do not sound like that!" she whined. "The accent gives me character!"
"Yes, dear, but a right ould bitch of a character."
Rob didn't have time to prepare for Aislinn's tackle. He grunted and went down under the weight of her bearing down on him. She shook him gently, and proceeded to tickle him in the ribs. "Say uncle!" she yelled.
"U-Uncle," Rob managed to gasp out between laughs. "St-stop it, Aislinn. St-st-stop, I'm sorry!"
"Good." Aislinn stood up, dusting off the front of her jeans with a superior air. Geoff had been in the process of unlocking the office door when the scuffle had broken out. He resumed the task, shaking his head in mock agitation. The door was opened and Aislinn stepped inside, gazing at the dark interior. She wrapped her arms around her again, but this time in order to stay warm. The inside of the warehouse was freezing.
The weather had not been particularly cold, so she had not brought a jacket or coat of any kind. That was a decision she was cursing at the moment. It was a warm October, but it had been said that the coming winter would be particularly harsh, something Aislinn wished for fervently. She turned to Geoff. "Can ye turn up the heat at all?" she asked through chattering teeth.
He looked at her askance. "It's a warehouse. We don't have heat."
Aislinn sighed. "Fine," she said huffily. "I'll just freeze."
Rob rolled his eyes at her behind her back. "Don't be so melodramatic. It's not that cold. You're Irish, for the love of God. You should be used to it."
Aislinn giggled. "Good point." She walked around the numerous crates and barrels towards the room Geoff had created. Her electric guitar was still in its case, where she had left it. She didn't bother with her acoustic this trip, although she guessed she would end up cursing that fact later on. She didn't want to change strings with freezing fingers.
She lovingly unzipped the padded case, running her fingers over the strings. The guitar had cost about a fourth of her total salary four years ago; there was no doubt it had increased significantly. She twanged the G- string, and winced. It was horribly out of tune. As she began to tune the other band members joined her, and a cacophony of off-tune music and strumming filled the air. Aislinn plucked a few strings haphazardly, and found them sufficiently tuned. She smiled lovingly as she plugged the guitar into an amplifier and cranked up the volume.
"Not too loud," said Geoff. "I don't want my father to get a call. Ce serait mauvais."
Aislinn turned down the volume a bit and began strumming out her new song. "Heaven bent to take my hand and lead me through the fire. Be the long awaited answer to a long and painful fight." She had sung it once before, outside of Hogwarts. Now was the time to show it off.
She smiled at Rob and Geoff as she sang, pleased with herself. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.
The news was all over the school. Aislinn O'Flannery was resigning. Hermione had heard it from Seamus, who had heard it from Neville, who thought he heard Professor O'Flannery muttering about it in the hallway. Hermione had promptly relayed the message to Harry and Ron. It had been her experience that no matter how far-flung it sounded, rumors of that magnitude were normally true. After all, the Chamber of Secrets had been a rumor, and one hardly to be believed. But it had existed, and that was the crucial point.
O'Flannery's absence had been noted by all. No professor was ever absent from dinner unless something serious happened. The only problem was no one seemed to know the reason why O'Flannery was leaving. However, everyone knew it had something to do with Snape. His glares over dinner were enough testimony to that.
The mood hanging over the school was one of extreme dejection. O'Flannery had been an invaluable asset in her student's lives; she was exuberant and young. She was fairly lenient and remembered what it was like to be a student. Harry could not but hate Snape for chasing her away.
Snape himself had been rather unlike himself in classes. Given, no one antagonized him needlessly, but as of late he had not even cared. He would put the lesson on the board and sit at his desk, either grading papers or staring off into space. Once, Harry even thought he heard his professor muttering some intelligible strand of words, something sounding like "realtai meen wiche ayah in bass." A chord of curiosity had struck Harry. Strangely the nonsense words meant something to him, but as to what he didn't know. All he could tell was that Snape was finally losing his mind.
It was Saturday. Normally it would be a Hogsmeade weekend, but since the threat of Voldemort was growing, the students were confined to the campus. There had been some grumbling at first, but no one was willing to face an agent of the Dark One unarmed. Hogsmeade would just have to wait.
Harry had searched all morning for O'Flannery, but had not managed to find hide nor hair of her. She had seemingly disappeared. Her elusiveness both angered and captivated him. It was like she had a secret life, a Muggle life. Harry and Ron had been making conjectures all day about where she went, and what she did. Ron fancied she had a separate family that didn't know she was a witch, and she had decided to return and take care of them. Harry had guessed she was working on Order business, prowling about Ireland with dogged determination. Hermione had merely huffed and called them childish. According to her there was no way Aislinn could have a separate family. The Order was more likely, but yet highly questionable. Hermione figured Aislinn had just come to the grim realization of teaching: lots of work for little appreciation.
"She is destined for greater things," Hermione had said, nodding her head emphatically. She went on to discuss their Charms homework for Monday. Harry and Ron promptly tuned her out and went back into their own separate thoughts. Harry couldn't guess Ron's, but if they were the same as his he was trying to puzzle out the mystery behind his professor's sudden disappearance.
He knew it was a topic he shouldn't dwell on. He should just forget about O'Flannery and let her go to whatever end she wanted to go to. Instead, he took every aspect and analyzed it, trying to find a solution to the problem, a reason, anything. He even skipped dinner. It was only when Hermione sat him down for a good talking-to did he realize what he was doing would not help his professor or him. It would only torment him more and solve nothing.
He sighed, and decided to sit outside in the last rays of sunset. He didn't know why, there was just something propelling him towards the lake, where the sun was setting orange and brilliant. He waved his friends away, preferring to be alone. As he descended the stairs he found himself humming the song Aislinn had sung the previous night. Her voice had entranced him, and obviously others as well. Today alone he had heard three people with the tune on their lips.
Harry pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, closing his eyes against the blast of air that hit him square in the face. Winter was definitely in the air. He could smell the crispness of the leaves that fell in the Forbidden Forest and the impending hint of frost. He sighed, feeling peaceful for what seemed like the first time in the entire school year.
Classes had been much harder that year. Professor O'Flannery's emphasis on history had floored his grade, and Snape seemed to have an even stronger vendetta against him than ever before. This, combined with his uncanny sense to know what others felt, seemed to put him in an awkward place. He couldn't directly come out and claim his gift, but at the same time the secrecy was driving him crazy. He knew he could survive it, but picking up emotions of complete strangers was odd, if not downright creepy.
O'Flannery seemed to emit the most feeling. Often the emotions were confusing. He would get twinges of happiness, fear, and revulsion. But the one feeling always present was a deep simmering anger, and the knowledge of a hidden secret. Harry was in on her clandestine past, and it was something he had sworn he would never repeat to anyone. He knew that not even he was supposed to know.
Harry drew his robes tighter about him. He had reached the shores of the lake, and the mellow light of a sinking sun bathed him in an orange tint. He smiled. The final warmth of another day sunk into his bones, but at the same time he smelled something that made him wrinkle his nose. It was cigarette smoke, and acrid in his nose. He sneezed, and turned.
Professor O'Flannery was watching him with a raised eyebrow. She held a cigarette in her left hand, and took a long drag, emitting the smoke through her nostrils. For some reason it made Harry think of a devil. She waved a lazy finger at him.
He smiled back at her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked her.
Aislinn shrugged. "Same as you, really." She had dropped the English accent he was so accustomed to hearing. Obviously she was tired of pretending.
"Where did your accent go, Professor?" Harry inquired innocently.
"Figured I didn't need it any more. Y' know about me now, me past and all." For a moment she looked pensive. "Don't think yee're intrudin' on me solitude. Yee're more 'n welcome t' sit." She gestured to the wide swatch of dying sunlight. Harry did so, and Aislinn flicked the rest of her cigarette into the lake. "I know it's bad, but I'm sure th' fish wouldn't mind getting' some nicotine." She smiled, as if she shared a private joke with someone invisible.
Harry sighed. "I didn't know you smoked." It was a statement rather than an accusation, and fortunately Aislinn recognized it as such.
She sighed as well, but hers sounded more melancholy. "I know, Harry. It's a bad habit, an' I realize it. I never did drugs, I rarely get drunk-" She paused and then continued again. "-That's not saying I don't, mind ye, but very rarely. And def'nitely not when I'm coming back t' the school tonight. Anyway, I got started smokin' fairly young, and got hooked." She shook her finger at Harry, her eyes dancing. "If I ever catch ye, I'll give yer arse a royal fonging, ye hear?"
Harry laughed. At least she managed to keep a sense of humor. "You shouldn't have to worry about that, Professor. I have no desire to give myself lung cancer." He smiled. "Professor, I've heard a rumor that you would be leaving." He waited for some confirmation, but when none came he proceeded with his question. "It can't be true, can it?"
Aislinn sighed. "I wish 't weren't, darlin.'"
"B-b-but you can't leave! Who will I learn Occlumency from? Who will teach me about being an Auror!" Harry wrung his hands nervously. "You can't go," he said in a tiny, upset voice.
Aislinn smiled again, but sadly this time. "I don't know who'll be teachin' ye. All I can 'ope is that 's not Snape; that would be an absolute crime. Harry, there comes a point in everyone's life that they must give up somethin' they care about. I love this job, I love the students I teach, but certain circumstances have made it difficult f'r me t' remain 'ere. I would give me entire soul t' stay, but at the same time, I would be too afraid o' puttin' ye in any kind o' danger."
"What danger?" Harry asked.
"I am a wanted woman, Harry. Death Eaters would stop at nothin' t' make sure I don't survive. I know too much about Voldemort; I know too much about who's who in his elite society. I am a threat t' 'is establishment." Professor O'Flannery paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. Her nails made clicking sounds and she tapped them against each other. "You see why I won't stay? I could incur all sorts o' harm against ye, and all o' yeer friends and family. I won't risk that f'r my sake. I am not worth that much."
Harry was silent. Her reasoning made absolute sense, but in his heart of hearts, he did not want to believe it. He adored her, in his own way. She gave a certain aura to the school; a lightness that he had never really felt before. The oppressiveness that seemed to always hang above his head was dissipating, and he thought it had little to do with his own personal situation. "Professor O'Flannery, may I confide something in you?" he asked timidly.
She appeared shocked for a moment, but hid her emotions well. "O' course, child. What is it ye want t' tell me?"
He started at the beginning, when he first saw her in the club and received a feeling about her emotional state. He described how it had persisted, and how now he felt almost everything anyone else was feeling.
Aislinn thought a moment before answering, and when she did her words were measured. "Harry," she began, "that's a gift if I've ever heard o' one. Y' have a talent, and I don't want ye to think about ignorin' it, or wishin' t' give it up. At the same time, it's a dubious talent. I admit it would seem t' make things a lot more difficult, but y' must realize that you're a talented young man. Ye've got gifts that no one else has. I don't know if it has t' do wi' what ye've been t'rough, but child, believe me, cultivate th' talents y' have. I know I would do th' same."
Harry contemplated on her advice for a moment. "I know it's a talent, but I wouldn't necessarily call it a gift. Frankly, it's odd." When she nodded, he continued. "Of course it makes things easier with people I know, but when I'm picking up emotions of complete strangers I feel like I'm drilling into their skull, into places they don't want me."
"Harry, darlin,' unnerstand that once ye've worked on these talents you've got, your control of things will be better. If you train yourself, you can block out the emotions you don't want to feel; perhaps in a while you'll even forget y' notice them." She turned to look back out at the lake. The sun was rapidly slipping behind the horizon and the sky was growing dark above the tenuous orange hue. "Ye might want t' head inside, Harry. I don't think talkin' t' me would get ye pardon from another professor."
Harry nodded and stood, feeling a lot better. "Thank you very much, Professor," he said before turning to walk inside.
Snape had been drawn outside by the hint of a breeze and caught a glance of unruly hair framing a face similar to James Potter's. He sneered. His son had come to resemble him in so many ways: the face, the hair, the arrogance. However, Lily's green eyes stared out of his face. Severus felt a twinge of pain at remembering Lily. He had loved her for a while, but only from a distance. She would have never had him anyway, so he pretended to hate her for her parentage. Given, he had never been close with Mudbloods, but letting her know his true feelings would only set him up for another drubbing. So he had merely watched and desired, and then let James steal away the only person he had ever truly wanted.
All at once, Snape stopped. Someone was humming, and the voice sounded awfully familiar. He padded on quiet grass until he was able to see around a corner of the old castle and wondered where she had been. The woman had been gone all day; no one could find her. Snape hadn't bothered to ask Dumbledore. He wouldn't have divulged his knowledge anyway. A thought crossed Snape's mind, and it dealt with the difficult task of apologizing. Now would probably be the perfect time to do it. O'Flannery was alone and not expecting him. He would just tell her he was sorry and move on.
He stepped out from around the castle, and cleared his throat. "Miss O'Flannery?" he asked in a tenuous voice.
She started, and shot to her feet faster than Snape could have thought possible. "Pairilis!" she cried, flinging the strange word toward him. Suddenly, he felt as though invisible cords were binding his limbs, and tightly. He could not speak. Something was pressing on his windpipe, cutting off all access to oxygen. He started to see spots, but it seemed O'Flannery finally realized who he was.
She snapped her fingers and muttered another strange word and the unseen bonds were released. She looked at him sullenly and crossed her arms over her breasts. "Yes?" she demanded, sounding irate.
Snape cleared his throat again, sucking in air gratefully. "Thank you for almost killing me, Miss O'Flannery," he spat contemptuously. "I see how you treat intruders into your space; believe me when I say I won't be making that mistake again."
"Go bugger yer arse, Snape. I've got better things t' do than bandy words wi' ye." She turned to go, but Snape called out her last name as though it were a curse. She strode toward him until they were within an arm's length of each other. They glared at each other with mutual hate.
"Miss, I came to tell you I'm sorry about the other night. I didn't know." Snape's mouth was dry. Having to humble himself to anyone was so degrading.
Aislinn sneered, then spit on his shoe. "That's what I think o' yer apology, Snape. Ye didn't know, did ye? Well if I had me way, ye still wouldn't know. By the grace o' God, 'twas none o' your fuckin' business."
Severus was taken aback. She had the utter gall to spit on him, when she had teased him since the beginning of the school year with her silences? "Listen to me, you fool. I don't care if the entire excremental isle that is Ireland raped you, when I offer an apology you accept it, understand! I do not humble myself to anyone, let alone anyone of your standards. You lived as a fucking Muggle for Christ's sake."
Aislinn's face was twisted with rage. Her narrow eyes became angry slits, and she bared her teeth as if she were a wild animal. Snape noticed then that her canines appeared unusually sharp, like those of a wildcat's. There was pure and unbridled hate in her expression.
He couldn't stop himself from continuing. If she was going to be cruel, he could be just as spiteful. "I see your anger now. You hate me, and for a good reason. You wanted to be mysterious. You wanted to be adored for being the good daughter, the one that didn't turn. But I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill me, and that would make you no better than your family. If you had the chance, I'm sure you would do the same to your daughter as was done to you. You're a fraud, O'Flannery. A fucking fraud, and I'm here to make sure you remember that every single day you continue to live at Hogwarts."
She moved to fast for him to do anything. A pain exploded in his lower jaw and he staggered. His head swung around, and he sprayed blood and spit as he tried to regain his balance. He squinted. Flashes of light were bursting in his head. The world was spinning. Snape reached up and touched the tip of his tongue; his finger came away bloody. He could scarcely believe what was going on. "You-you hit me," he said in disbelief.
O'Flannery looked at him disdainfully. "If ye ever mention what was done to me again, I'll slit yee're throat. D'ye unnerstand? No one would miss ye, and I have no qualms about it. If I'm so much like me family, then I could do it wi' a clear conscience." She reached out at patted his aching jaw, and hard. "Watch yer back, Severus, because if I see ye make one wrong step, then..." She drew her finger across her throat like a knife, and promptly walked away, whistling a tune.
When she was out of sight, Severus lowered himself to the grass. The sunlight was almost entirely gone, but he needed to rest for a while before attempting the stairs. His eyes were still unfocused. The woman obviously had a strong fist. He continued to rub his jaw gingerly. He could feel it throbbing, and he knew there would be a nasty swelling there in the morning. He spit out saliva and blood from where his teeth had clamped down on the inside of his cheek. He ran his tongue over the laceration and spat again. Damn woman, he thought with less malice than he should really be feeling.
In fact, he was a bit startled at his own reactions. He had come to apologize, and it had ended once again with a fight. At least this time he wasn't taking advantage of her. The bodiless voice inside his head was talking again, something about him starting it.
"I bloody well know," he told it angrily. "But listen to me, she should have accepted it. It's the only one I'll offer." Snape shut up, realizing that talking to himself was never a good sign. It was embarrassing enough to be floored by a woman, even a woman with a strong arm.
With one arm on the ground and another out for balance, he raised himself to his feet. The entire left side of his face ached, and felt warm to the touch. His anger toward O'Flannery was steadily increasing with each step he took towards the old castle. How dare she! He had done nothing to provoke the attack. Despite his words, she had been the one to initially turn down his attempt at apology. And then she had tried to threaten his life! Part of him dismissed it as folly, but as much as he wanted to deny it the other half of him wondered if she would really do it. He had no doubt that with her heritage she was predisposed to violence. But at the same time, would she really resort back to the brutality of her past, and the horrid bloodbath that had been her childhood? He couldn't really understand it, nor did he want to try to. Some things were just better left to confusion.
His face stung horribly. As he meandered about the hallways of Hogwarts, he tried to ignore the violence in the world around him by losing himself in the thoughts of future lessons and glories. It seemed that as he got older his fantasies no longer took on a sexual nature. Now, they were more about recognition in a world that didn't care, or achievements he had yet to attain. At forty he was completely celibate and wouldn't have it any other way. To him, women were nothing more than temptation when he needed nothing of the sort. Unlike his one-time friend Lucius Malfoy, he did not measure success by how many women he had bedded or virginities he had stolen. Of course there had been a time he felt like that, but things changed. Now sex held no allure for him. He had spent too many nights with whores, too many Dark Revels taking what was not given. It left him feeling burned out and shallow.
By the time he retired to his chambers, all daylight had fled from the sky. Stars were just beginning to twinkle in the dark velvet night, and Snape stood at his window, rubbing his sore jaw and watching clouds drift lazily across the moon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the brandy decanter was empty, and he cursed under his breath. He would have to run into London tomorrow in order to buy some more. Good brandy was hardly something to live without. Instead he went to his bathroom and poured himself a glass of cold water, which he downed in one gulp. He could feel it hit his stomach and was reminded he hardly ate anything that night. Hunger would soon follow. The night was not cold enough for a fire, but there was no doubt in his mind that the upcoming winter would be one of frigid days and even colder nights.
Snape turned from the window and drew the curtains, blocking out any light from outside. Instead he lit a lamp and stared as his face in a mirror. There was a distinct swelling on his jaw that was turning a sickening shade of purple. If decorum allowed it, he would show O'Flannery the back of his hand, but he doubted it would solve anything, except get him fired. He was already in enough trouble to last him the next twenty years of his career.
He stalked into the bathroom, all the while cursing the fates that had aligned to make him a teacher. He ran cold water from the faucet onto a towel and put it on his swelling jaw, flinching as he applied pressure. There was no way in hell he would go to Madame Pomfrey and risk having to explain his injury. No, he would just suffer in silence, and if anyone asked he would not answer. There was no use in further embarrassing himself. A woman, he thought angrily.
The bed called longingly. He was tired, and there was much needed rest to be gotten. Fortunately he had the luxury of sleeping in tomorrow. After a rest, he could get the brandy in London, pick up some potion supplies, and plot on how to rid himself of his nemesis. He sighed as he settled his uninjured cheek into his pillow and closed his eyes. Sleep washed over him like a blanket, and with it came dreams of blood, and something that looked like a child with his eyes.
Aislinn had the need for music. She had been practicing her guitar all day, but at the same time, she needed something more calming, something more elegant. She once more took to the outdoors, but this time she carried something in a black case, much smaller than her two guitars. She carried a bow, and when she reached the shores of the lake, she stopped, putting the case down and unzipping it. Inside, there laid a shiny violin, polished to absolute perfection. She smiled and tightened the bow a bit before picking up her fiddle and resting her chin on it.
The first long sweep of the bow produced a sound neither high nor low. It was merely a perfect monotone on which she gauged her playing. She moved her fingers on the fingerboard, arranging different chords and testing her strings. When she was sure everything was tuned, she began with a slow tune, closing her eyes and swaying with the music. Her bow moved faster and her face was tight with concentration. The notes cut through the still night air, and several birds twittered from their nests.
Aislinn opened her eyes slowly and she drew her bow across the strings slowly. She could hear screams in her head; she could feel the blood rushing down her back and onto her bare legs. It wasn't her fault. Daddy, don't hurt me anymore. The song filled with anger and emotion. She pictured Severus Snape in her mind, and she could feel her senses swimming with the Veritaserum. Her hand against his face. His lips on hers. Dreams. Her mutilated back and her father's face. tÁivé Máiria...
The violin fell from her grasp and her knees buckled. Her lips parted in an animal cry, long, low, and keening. "Bail, O Dia, ar an obair," she whimpered as her hands twisted in the dirt by the lake's shore. "Bail ar an obair."
Her voice trailed off. She knew what she must do. The violin was hastily packed with the bow, and her robes flew behind her as she ran into the ancient castle and up the stairs to her chamber. After two snaps the door flew open, and a frightened orange tabby looked up at her with luminous eyes.
"We must go, Bosún. There is no hope here for me."
The cat meowed questioningly as Aislinn hastily scribbled out a note and left it on her desk. It was probably childish, but for once she didn't care. For once she would let her emotions guide her decision, rather than her hard-learned common sense. If she were to keep her sanity, she would need to flee. She changed out of her school robes and into jeans and a t- shirt, threw a few things into an old satchel, picked up her cat, waited for Yankee Doodle to exit the chamber, and closed her door. She didn't bother to reset wards; she would worry about her things later. For the moment, she just wanted to be gone.
With Bosún tucked under one arm and her satchel across her shoulder she followed Yankee outside and into the pale moonlight. Hagrid's cottage looked lonely at the edge of the woods, and Aislinn fought back the urge to pay him one last visit. Instead she shook of her nostalgia and, with strident steps, passed the through the gates that marked the edge of Hogwarts' grounds.
Aislinn O'Flannery stopped and set the cat down. He hobbled about for a bit before finally deciding to sit, and stared up at his mistress with large, luminescent eyes. His tail flicked back and forth nervously. Aislinn regarded him with cool indifference. She thought back, ticking off the places she could go. She would not return to Cork. To do that would be to face her past, something she didn't quite think she was ready for. She hadn't been back since she had graduated from Hogwarts. The flat in London had sold; Lupin had no permanent residence. Her thoughts turned back to friends, and one name in particular stood out in her mind. Fionnuala MacAoidhigán. That is where she would find safety.
She whistled through pursed lips, and Yankee Doodle drifted down to her upraised wrist. The satchel's strap passed between her breasts, and she picked up Bosún before closing her eyes. She concentrated hard, focusing on the energy surrounding her body. She was light; she was nothing more than air. It seemed the air around her picked up, whistling around her as if she was standing in the middle of a gale. She gripped her cat tighter, but Yankee Doodle still sat calm on her wrist. He was used to this, after all.
With a loud crack, it was over as quickly as it had begun. Aislinn staggered slightly upon taking her first step, but quickly regained her balance. Her eagle turned loose, soaring above her head, and Bosún wriggled in her arms. She set him down as a child about four years old rushed out from behind the house. He seemed perplexed for a moment, but was soon off and running.
"Mummy!" he screamed, tearing off in the direction he came from. "There's someone outside to see you!"
Aislinn whistled and her eagle soared lower over her head. She waited for her cat to stand before taking a step forward towards the cottage. A woman with floury white hands and flame-red hair peeked through a window, a large smile spreading across her face. She didn't even bother to shut the door behind her. Instead she ran across the field separating the cottage from the path, her bare feet kicking up grass.
"Fionnuala!" Aislinn shouted, and embraced her old friend.
The woman returned the greeting. "Cad as tú?" she asked as she pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, leaving a floury trail across her cheek.
"Good as I can be with an ass for a co-worker and a devil sitting on my back," she replied in Gaelic, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Fionnuala. "I'll tell you more about it later, but for now, we speak of happy things. How are the children?"
The small child that had heralded Aislinn's arrival was peeking out of a window. She knew there were five more inside, the youngest no older than half a year. In response, Fionnuala beckoned with her finger. "Come inside the house," she said. "It's warmer, and the wind doesn't cut so deep."
Aislinn followed her friend, passing into the cottage that smelled of warmth and bread. The three older children were clustered around the hearth, one of them was holding a tiny baby that gurgled and cooed. The other two were nowhere to be seen.
"Aoife, Maighread, do you remember Aislinn?" Fionnuala asked and were met with nods. Hellos were muttered, and Aislinn turned to the lone boy among the girls. He hefted the baby to his chest protectively. "Arrah, Kevin, don't kill the wee child," she admonished jokingly. The boy smiled and held out the baby. Aislinn took her, cradling the tiny thing in her arms. "What's her name?" she asked softly, stroking the baby's cheek.
"My husband decided on Maeve, although I wanted to call her Eileen. She's almost five months now. It's hard to believe that only half a year ago I was the size of a boulder." Almost without thinking she pulled a wand out of her waistband and waved it at the oven door. It opened, revealing three fresh loaves of soda bread. "Aoife, could you get those?" she asked offhandedly.
Aislinn smiled. "It's so different seeing a normal family again," she quipped to her friend. "I'm used to children now, but without parents they seem a bit different." She shook her head. "I still can't believe you have six."
Fionnuala smiled. "It's work, I can tell you. But I love them all. Aoife will be heading to Hogwarts next year, God willing. Speaking of Hogwarts, Aislinn Ríonach, is that why you're here?" Fionnuala rested her chin on her hands and tilted her head, meaning she was listening. She had done that ever since Aislinn first met her so many years ago.
"I don't really know, 'Nuala. I needed a place to escape to, not necessarily yours. But I came here because I know I'm welcome, and unlike Saoirse, you'd actually be home. I just don't know what I should be doing now." Aislinn continued speaking, explaining the entire situation to her friend as the baby slept in her arms.
When she was finished, Fionnuala sat back for a moment, pulling on a lock of her short hair. "Well, my dear, I have no problem with putting you up for as long as you need it until you can sort through your little problem. I could always use an extra hand with the children, and Lord knows Declan wouldn't mind. I'll put you in the guest room. And of course, eagles and cats are welcome." Fionnuala smiled and held out her arms. "I think someone needs dinner and then bed."
Aislinn left the kitchen as Fionnuala fed her youngest daughter, and climbed the stairs to the room where she would be staying for an unknown amount of time. She knew the cottage well; in fact Fionnuala and her husband Declan were two of her closest friends. The other, Saoirse, was probably on holiday in France simply to be on holiday, and Lupin was filling in for her at Hogwarts. She couldn't help but wonder what everyone was doing now. They were probably sleeping tight in their beds, which is what I should be doing now, she thought. She kicked off her shoes and went through the ritual of changing into nightclothes before opening the window to let Yankee Doodle out. Bosún was curled up at her feet, and she stretched one last time before relaxing. She was already feeling better.
It seemed final. She was gone, she had quit the grounds last night and no one, and no one had any idea where she had vanished. Harry Potter shrugged his shoulders with a sigh and clasped his head with his arms. It had been a horrible week, and it was only Sunday. Fortunately, Aislinn's substitute for the time being was an old friend, Remus Lupin. He had been the Defense professor in Harry's third year, and was looking even more haggard than usual.
That morning, Dumbledore had made the announcement that Professor O'Flannery had filed her resignation papers, but had mysteriously disappeared after speaking with Professor Snape Saturday night. Professor Lupin was to be taking her place until either she returned or a full-time professor could be found.
Overall, Harry was happy with the change. Lupin was a friend of both his and his father's, and he got along with the werewolf delightfully. After all, it was he that taught Harry to ward off Dementors with a Patronus charm. Harry was just waiting for the right moment to approach him and start a conversation.
Hermione and Ron had said little that day. Hermione, of course, was busy studying for Charms, but Ron was dejected and hadn't come out of the Gryffindor common room since breakfast.
"Come on, Ron, you have to get out and do something today. You can't just sit around moping until things change," Harry pleaded, trying to get his friend active. "Let's go talk to Lupin."
Ron shook his head. "No deal, mate. I'm trying to wrap my head around everything. It's so bloody confusing right now, and it hurts my head."
Harry nodded and promptly left. Ron's dismal mood was affecting him as well, and for once he didn't want to be trapped inside on a perfectly gorgeous day. There was a slight wind ruffling the trees, but it was neither too warm nor too cold. It was a quintessential October day, and Harry was determined to spend it outside.
Suddenly, an idea came to him. He turned and dashed back into his dormitory and up the steps, grabbing his broomstick from where he had left it from Quidditch practice the last few days. In no time he was by the playing field and in the air, soaring around like he had no cares in the world. He began doing quick cutting moves through the air and progressed on to elaborate spins and acrobatic tricks, all the while speeding along at a breakneck pace.
When Harry glanced down, he saw a lone figure in the bleachers, clapping wildly. Harry grinned, recognizing it as Professor Lupin. He zoomed down back to terra firma and alighted from his broom. Lupin stood as well and came down to meet Harry on the playing field. He was grinning as well.
"Well hello, Harry Potter, my young friend," the professor said, pushing a stray hair out of his face.
"It's nice to see you again, Professor. I had been wondering when I'd hear from you." Harry extended his hand, but Lupin pulled him into a friendly hug.
"Well, you're hearing from me now. I'm back for the time being at Dumbledore's orders. The former Professor O'Flannery is out for the time being, getting her bearings." Lupin shrugged.
Harry scratched his head. "I don't really get it, Professor. Everyone here with the exception of Malfoy and his cronies loves her. Why did she leave, and where did she go?" Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you friends with her?"
"Harry, I think you and I are in for a chat. Come on, we can head back to the castle for a good talk."
"I don't really want to go in yet, Professor. Do you want to go sit by the lake instead? The weather's nice enough."
Lupin nodded, and Harry shouldered his broomstick as he followed he professor. They found a shady spot at the lake's shore and settled down, Harry laying on the ground and Lupin resting his back against a tree trunk.
"I don't really know where to start, Harry. I don't know where Aislinn's gone, but I have a pretty good idea it's somewhere in Ireland. She has tons of little haunts on that island, you know, places she'll go when she needs to unwind. If she gets over stressed, I've known her to disappear for days, sometimes even weeks. She always comes back though, so even though she's submitted her resignation, I have no doubt my stint here in only temporary. You can't keep the woman away for long." Lupin paused, smiling at some fond memory Harry wasn't privy to. "She's a wonderful woman, Harry. A bit flighty, but wonderful nonetheless."
Harry nodded. "I know, Professor. She's a good asset to the school. Did she tell you she's going to tell me about being an Auror?" he asked.
Lupin shook his head. "No, but she might not be the best person to ask. Oh, she knows the skills as well as anyone, but as an Auror she was ostracized, hated, if you may. No one is really sure where her allegiance lies."
"I know," Harry said proudly. "I saw it in her head. She's one of us, Professor. It wasn't her fault the Death Eaters used her like that!"
Lupin shook his head again. "I know as well as you do she hates Voldemort, boy. But Death Eaters didn't just use her. In case you've forgotten, her parents were Death Eaters." Lupin's eyes blazed with contained anger, holding Harry's with intensity. "Do you know what they did to her?"
Harry looked shocked. "Her parents?" he asked incredulously. "Her parents did that to her?"
Lupin nodded. "Not directly, but I guess you could say they sacrificed her to it. Both she and her sister were sacrificial lambs because they wouldn't take the Dark Mark."
"Is that why she left?" Harry asked.
The answer did not come quickly. Lupin pondered, running his hands through his graying hair and sighing. His eyes shifted left and right, and his back slumped against the trunk of the tree. "She left because she was betrayed by someone. She guards her past delicately and safely, Harry. Don't ever forget that." With that, Lupin stood and extended a hand. Harry took it and stood, once again shifting his broomstick up onto his shoulder.
"I won't," Harry muttered as he followed his professor inside. If there was something he could be trusted with, it was her secrets. He had no doubt who it was that had betrayed her: Snape. Perhaps that was why he was out in the hallway so late at night. Harry longed to know what he had done, but for once he realized maybe it wasn't his business.
"I'm very sorry, Headmaster," Snape mumbled to the floor.
"Sorry, Severus? Save your apologies for Miss O'Flannery." The worst thing about Dumbledore's reproaches was not harsh words or yelling, quite the contrary. Albus never raised his voice. Instead, every word was delivered in a conversational tone, punctuated by occasional reproaching looks. It was the worst form of punishment one could ever expect.
"Headmaster-"Snape began.
Dumbledore cut him off abruptly. "Severus, I had expected more of you. You acted like a third year student with a vendetta. Using such dubious means on a fellow professor is intolerable."
Snape grimaced. "What shall I do then, Headmaster? How do you suggest that I remedy this situation?"
"I was originally considering dismissing you from the staff."
Snape looked up from the floor at once and gaped. "Headmaster!"
Dumbledore waved his hand in a motion to be silent. "I have since rethought my decision. Instead, you will be docked two weeks of your pay, as well as be responsible for hallway patrols the entire month of November." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Also, I want a personal apology to Aislinn O'Flannery. Your cruelty to her was uncalled for. You can go now, Severus."
Snape stood and turned to go, but once again turned to face his employer and old friend. "Headmaster, you can surely understand."
Albus nodded. "I can indeed, Severus, but you must understand that some methods should be all together avoided. I hope your curiosity is satisfied now."
Snape nodded once, and promptly exited the chamber.
The hallway was deserted, but nonetheless he hurried to his chamber, shunning any contact. Dismissing him from the staff! He could barely believe it. There was no way Dumbledore could even have thought of getting rid of him! What ever happened to 'you're the best potions master this school has ever had?'
Severus slammed the door behind him, seething. He tried to ignore the voice in his head screaming for recognition, but his inattention to it was in vain. He let the guilt wash over him as he poured himself the familiar snifter of liquor. At the moment, all he wanted was to get very drunk.
Dumbledore was right, the voice said. You wronged her, Severus Snape. In no way did she deserve being duped by the likes of you.
"Shut up!" screamed Severus. "Just shut up! I'm sorry!" He curled up onto the floor, sobs wracking his body. It had been so long since he had cried. O'Flannery had turned him into an emotional wreck. He cursed her, and every good thing she stood for. She was everything that had been denied to him since boyhood.
Eventually, it seemed there were no tears left in him which to cry. The emotion exhausted him; he had no desire to rise up off the cold floor. If he got up, he would have to continue to face the day, the coming year, the rest of his life. It would be so much easier to let life pass quickly from his frame.
There were several ingredients in his potion cabinet, which, if taken together would cause sleep, paralysis, then death. It was a perfect combination. No one would expect it, and he doubted anyone would care. Except Albus, the voice said, chiding.
Snape sat up on one arm, looking longingly at the full brandy snifter on the desktop. He shook his melancholy off like a cloak, standing to rearrange his teacher's robes. Living would have to do for now. Dumbledore was right, but he would weather this as he weathered everything else: perseverance and time. Despite that, he could not stop his mind from sliding back to the horrible things he had learned about O'Flannery. He was not fit to lick her shoe, but yet there he was, assuming he knew all. How many times had he told himself he could not play god? He sneered. God had no place in this equation. It was just he, a woman, and his bitter mistakes.
Classes today had been subdued. Most had learned of O'Flannery's strange absence, and more than a few were confused about it. There were even rumors circulating that she would resign. Snape had to hold tight to his temper, but very few students even bothered angering him. All in all there was a strange depression hanging over the school. It fitted his mood perfectly.
Now, sitting in front of his empty fireplace, he reflected on the events of last night, dissecting each thing. He approached her responses from every angle, trying to find rhyme or reason in her suffering. He had to admit there was a twang of jealousy; he was no longer the professor with the most painful past. Despite his folly, he still cursed her.
Severus mused, thinking on the song he had heard a few nights ago. One particular line had caught his attention, and he spoke it aloud. "But we carry on our backs the burden time always reveals: the lonely light of morning, in the wound that would not heal." He sighed. It all sounded so beautiful. He had no idea she could sing like that.
A memory tickled at the back of his mind. He had been walking back from Knockturn Alley before the term had started. He had met Goyle, the fool, and noticed a club on the corner. A woman had been singing and playing guitar. That same woman, the one that had so unnerved him, was now teaching with him.
Snape groaned. Life had been hitting him with too many coincidences, and he didn't like it. First it was the dreams. Then, the dreams had become reality. People he had seen in his head, or even on the street, were becoming key figures in the way his life was going. Aislinn O'Flannery was a case in point. A brief glance of her in a club had come to determine whether or not he would continue to be on the teaching staff at Hogwarts.
He cursed under his breath. Dinner was approaching; he would have to face her. Hopefully she would wait to throttle him in private. There was little doubt in his mind that she would be leaving, a fact that Snape was thankful for. This was just one of those irreconcilable differences, except in this case neither participant was married. They were rivals in the purest sense of the word. Except he had to go off and complicate things. He could only pray she would be gone by the end of next week.
Snape sat until dinner, thinking on life in general and what he would do when he was old enough to retire. Maybe he would buy a house on the English coast and live in solitude until he died. It sounded appealing: peace and quiet, with only the extreme remoteness as a companion. After spending many of his years with students, it would be a welcome change. He sighed as he stood. The nights of not sleeping were finally catching up to him. His eyelids felt heavy and his head drooped. Not to mention the beginnings of a headache were creeping at his temples.
He walked down the hallway rubbing the bridge of his nose. Most students were already in the Great Hall, if the lack of traffic had anything to do with it. Snape hoped he wouldn't be too late. He could always blame it on guilt. He didn't know how he was going to face O'Flannery; a professor could not just change seats without it being noticed and remarked upon. A sure way to spark controversy was to suddenly move, or do anything unexpected.
He ascended the platform and took a seat as his customary place. However, something felt wrong. He looked around him, and noticed the glaring gap to his right. O'Flannery was gone. There was no sign she had even been there. Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow and turned to Professor Flitwick. "Do you have any idea where Miss O'Flannery is?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant.
Flitwick nodded. "Rumor is, she's taking meals in her room. Won't give a reason why, though."
Snape tried his best to look just as confused even though he knew the reason quite well. It was to avoid him. For once he could find no fault in her logic. If he had the ability, he would avoid himself. Severus sighed, and cursed under his breath. He had been fairly hungry, but his appetite had vanished suddenly at seeing his former nemesis' absence. Damn him and his quest for knowledge. Snape, old boy, there is no way you can know the truth about everything and not get burned, he thought to himself sadly.
Aislinn O'Flannery watched him over the rims of her sunglasses. He had been puttering around for hours, but she could see his energy was dissipating. She smiled at him when he looked her way, but then frowned as he turned into another store.
Her band was a good two hours late, and she was getting anxious. It wasn't exactly anger, just impatience. She and Lupin were to meet them at a café, but they were there early. So, they had lunch and waited. And waited. And waited. She couldn't help but wonder what was holding them up. Lupin stepped out of the store, and Aislinn waved him over.
"Remus, darlin', d'ye have any idea where they are?"
Lupin shrugged. "I have no idea Aislinn. Traffic perhaps?"
Aislinn rolled her eyes. "Ye forgit that I lived in London f'r years, an' traffic was never this bad. I think they stood us up." For a moment Lupin looked shocked, but then smiled.
"Always a joke, always a bad situation, right?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Aislinn nodded, but then promptly began gazing over her friend's left shoulder. Gazing hard. Remus turned, searching for what Aislinn was staring at. Two men were peering at them from around a corner of a building. They were giggling like girls, and Lupin promptly shot them a rude gesture with his hand. Aislinn, on the other hand, beckoned them like an angry mother.
"Where the hell have ye been?" she yelled. "We've been here a good two hours, and yee're off fecking around while we're waiting. I have a mind t' give ye a good fong in the arse, ye filthy, joking-"
"Aislinn, my sweet Irish flower, we're here now," one chimed in, cutting her off in the middle of her tirade.
The other jumped in. "Yes, Aislinn, your voice is like the music of a sweet May morning. Your face would inspire sonnets of gentility and kindness." He grinned a gap-toothed smile.
Aislinn's face relaxed, and she even smiled back. "Cad eile?" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I do what I can." A moment of silence passed between them, until Lupin raised an eyebrow.
"Are you practicing or not?" he asked. "As for me, I'm running a few quick errands in Diagon Alley. I have to stock up on supplies if I'm to be teaching again."
The two men shot Remus and Aislinn a questioning look, but shrugged it off. Aislinn shot Lupin a sad smile and gave him a quick hug. "I'll see ye again at the end o' the day, all right?" She turned, following the other two down a street. She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if trying to keep warm. That was a gesture all too common for her now.
It made her look lost, but lost was how she felt at the moment. She didn't know where she was going in life. Yet another unexpected turn had taken her from her goal. Where once her path had looked clear, it was now clouded and gray. She sighed loudly. "Damn you, Snape," she muttered under her breath.
The tallest man was leading the group; he turned to look at her. "Did you say something, Aislinn?"
Aislinn shook her head vigorously, trying to deny anything to both her friend and herself. The man fixed her with a glare. "Okay, Rob, ye win. I said 'Damn you Snape,' if that makes any sense t' ye." She put her hands on her hips and jutted her lower jaw out.
"Makes enough sense to know that something's wrong. When we get to the warehouse you're telling us all about it." He shook his finger at her as if chiding a grumpy child and turned his back. Aislinn shot her middle finger at him.
The warehouse in question was a square brick building owned by Geoff's father. It was normally filled with boxes of imports and merchandise, but Geoff had cleared out a special room for band practice. The walls had noise absorbing pads stapled to them and several electrical hookups for amps and microphones. It reminded Aislinn of a makeshift studio, which in a sense it was.
She smiled as she remembered the drunken parties they had thrown there, and the anger of Geoff's father as he swore at them in French. Both Geoff and Aislinn had blushed, but Rob had no idea what the old man was yelling at them. The most he could say in French was "Je voudrais un autre biere, s'il vous plaît." Aislinn, however, understood every word of his obscenity laced tirade, and tried to placate as best she could. She guessed her tendency to please was based on years of violent upbringing, but something about old, angry men scared her.
She was brought out of her private thoughts by running right into Geoff's back. He grunted and turned. "What?"
Aislinn smiled. "I was rememberin' when yeer fayther tried t' kick our arses f'r drinkin' in th' warehouse."
"I remember that too. Geoff, what was your girl's name?"
"Saiorse," Aislinn chimed in.
Geoff nodded gingerly. "Yeah, that was her. She turned out to be a lesbian in the long run. Ashy, you have odd friends."
Aislinn clenched her fists angrily. "What have I told you about calling me Ashy?" She suddenly lashed out, kicking her old friend in the butt. "If you call me Ashy, I call you Geoffrey, remember?"
Geoff grimaced. "Deal." He held out his hand, shaking hers. "No more Ashy."
Aislinn nodded. "Good. 'S Aislinn. Not Ashy, Ash, or, f'r the love o' God, not Mick!" She giggled. "Remember that girl, that English girl, that thought it would be fine t' call me Mick b'cause I was Irish?"
Rob nodded. "You gave her a good 'fonging,' to use your wording."
"A right ould fonging too. Bet she couldn't sit down f'r a week!" Aislinn cracked her knuckles.
"Aislinn, yee're a righ' oul' bitch, ye are. I t'ink dat ye should 'ead 'ome t' 'Ogwarts," Rob giggled, exaggerating her accent.
Aislinn jumped around in a circle in agitation. "I do not sound like that!" she whined. "The accent gives me character!"
"Yes, dear, but a right ould bitch of a character."
Rob didn't have time to prepare for Aislinn's tackle. He grunted and went down under the weight of her bearing down on him. She shook him gently, and proceeded to tickle him in the ribs. "Say uncle!" she yelled.
"U-Uncle," Rob managed to gasp out between laughs. "St-stop it, Aislinn. St-st-stop, I'm sorry!"
"Good." Aislinn stood up, dusting off the front of her jeans with a superior air. Geoff had been in the process of unlocking the office door when the scuffle had broken out. He resumed the task, shaking his head in mock agitation. The door was opened and Aislinn stepped inside, gazing at the dark interior. She wrapped her arms around her again, but this time in order to stay warm. The inside of the warehouse was freezing.
The weather had not been particularly cold, so she had not brought a jacket or coat of any kind. That was a decision she was cursing at the moment. It was a warm October, but it had been said that the coming winter would be particularly harsh, something Aislinn wished for fervently. She turned to Geoff. "Can ye turn up the heat at all?" she asked through chattering teeth.
He looked at her askance. "It's a warehouse. We don't have heat."
Aislinn sighed. "Fine," she said huffily. "I'll just freeze."
Rob rolled his eyes at her behind her back. "Don't be so melodramatic. It's not that cold. You're Irish, for the love of God. You should be used to it."
Aislinn giggled. "Good point." She walked around the numerous crates and barrels towards the room Geoff had created. Her electric guitar was still in its case, where she had left it. She didn't bother with her acoustic this trip, although she guessed she would end up cursing that fact later on. She didn't want to change strings with freezing fingers.
She lovingly unzipped the padded case, running her fingers over the strings. The guitar had cost about a fourth of her total salary four years ago; there was no doubt it had increased significantly. She twanged the G- string, and winced. It was horribly out of tune. As she began to tune the other band members joined her, and a cacophony of off-tune music and strumming filled the air. Aislinn plucked a few strings haphazardly, and found them sufficiently tuned. She smiled lovingly as she plugged the guitar into an amplifier and cranked up the volume.
"Not too loud," said Geoff. "I don't want my father to get a call. Ce serait mauvais."
Aislinn turned down the volume a bit and began strumming out her new song. "Heaven bent to take my hand and lead me through the fire. Be the long awaited answer to a long and painful fight." She had sung it once before, outside of Hogwarts. Now was the time to show it off.
She smiled at Rob and Geoff as she sang, pleased with herself. Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.
The news was all over the school. Aislinn O'Flannery was resigning. Hermione had heard it from Seamus, who had heard it from Neville, who thought he heard Professor O'Flannery muttering about it in the hallway. Hermione had promptly relayed the message to Harry and Ron. It had been her experience that no matter how far-flung it sounded, rumors of that magnitude were normally true. After all, the Chamber of Secrets had been a rumor, and one hardly to be believed. But it had existed, and that was the crucial point.
O'Flannery's absence had been noted by all. No professor was ever absent from dinner unless something serious happened. The only problem was no one seemed to know the reason why O'Flannery was leaving. However, everyone knew it had something to do with Snape. His glares over dinner were enough testimony to that.
The mood hanging over the school was one of extreme dejection. O'Flannery had been an invaluable asset in her student's lives; she was exuberant and young. She was fairly lenient and remembered what it was like to be a student. Harry could not but hate Snape for chasing her away.
Snape himself had been rather unlike himself in classes. Given, no one antagonized him needlessly, but as of late he had not even cared. He would put the lesson on the board and sit at his desk, either grading papers or staring off into space. Once, Harry even thought he heard his professor muttering some intelligible strand of words, something sounding like "realtai meen wiche ayah in bass." A chord of curiosity had struck Harry. Strangely the nonsense words meant something to him, but as to what he didn't know. All he could tell was that Snape was finally losing his mind.
It was Saturday. Normally it would be a Hogsmeade weekend, but since the threat of Voldemort was growing, the students were confined to the campus. There had been some grumbling at first, but no one was willing to face an agent of the Dark One unarmed. Hogsmeade would just have to wait.
Harry had searched all morning for O'Flannery, but had not managed to find hide nor hair of her. She had seemingly disappeared. Her elusiveness both angered and captivated him. It was like she had a secret life, a Muggle life. Harry and Ron had been making conjectures all day about where she went, and what she did. Ron fancied she had a separate family that didn't know she was a witch, and she had decided to return and take care of them. Harry had guessed she was working on Order business, prowling about Ireland with dogged determination. Hermione had merely huffed and called them childish. According to her there was no way Aislinn could have a separate family. The Order was more likely, but yet highly questionable. Hermione figured Aislinn had just come to the grim realization of teaching: lots of work for little appreciation.
"She is destined for greater things," Hermione had said, nodding her head emphatically. She went on to discuss their Charms homework for Monday. Harry and Ron promptly tuned her out and went back into their own separate thoughts. Harry couldn't guess Ron's, but if they were the same as his he was trying to puzzle out the mystery behind his professor's sudden disappearance.
He knew it was a topic he shouldn't dwell on. He should just forget about O'Flannery and let her go to whatever end she wanted to go to. Instead, he took every aspect and analyzed it, trying to find a solution to the problem, a reason, anything. He even skipped dinner. It was only when Hermione sat him down for a good talking-to did he realize what he was doing would not help his professor or him. It would only torment him more and solve nothing.
He sighed, and decided to sit outside in the last rays of sunset. He didn't know why, there was just something propelling him towards the lake, where the sun was setting orange and brilliant. He waved his friends away, preferring to be alone. As he descended the stairs he found himself humming the song Aislinn had sung the previous night. Her voice had entranced him, and obviously others as well. Today alone he had heard three people with the tune on their lips.
Harry pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, closing his eyes against the blast of air that hit him square in the face. Winter was definitely in the air. He could smell the crispness of the leaves that fell in the Forbidden Forest and the impending hint of frost. He sighed, feeling peaceful for what seemed like the first time in the entire school year.
Classes had been much harder that year. Professor O'Flannery's emphasis on history had floored his grade, and Snape seemed to have an even stronger vendetta against him than ever before. This, combined with his uncanny sense to know what others felt, seemed to put him in an awkward place. He couldn't directly come out and claim his gift, but at the same time the secrecy was driving him crazy. He knew he could survive it, but picking up emotions of complete strangers was odd, if not downright creepy.
O'Flannery seemed to emit the most feeling. Often the emotions were confusing. He would get twinges of happiness, fear, and revulsion. But the one feeling always present was a deep simmering anger, and the knowledge of a hidden secret. Harry was in on her clandestine past, and it was something he had sworn he would never repeat to anyone. He knew that not even he was supposed to know.
Harry drew his robes tighter about him. He had reached the shores of the lake, and the mellow light of a sinking sun bathed him in an orange tint. He smiled. The final warmth of another day sunk into his bones, but at the same time he smelled something that made him wrinkle his nose. It was cigarette smoke, and acrid in his nose. He sneezed, and turned.
Professor O'Flannery was watching him with a raised eyebrow. She held a cigarette in her left hand, and took a long drag, emitting the smoke through her nostrils. For some reason it made Harry think of a devil. She waved a lazy finger at him.
He smiled back at her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked her.
Aislinn shrugged. "Same as you, really." She had dropped the English accent he was so accustomed to hearing. Obviously she was tired of pretending.
"Where did your accent go, Professor?" Harry inquired innocently.
"Figured I didn't need it any more. Y' know about me now, me past and all." For a moment she looked pensive. "Don't think yee're intrudin' on me solitude. Yee're more 'n welcome t' sit." She gestured to the wide swatch of dying sunlight. Harry did so, and Aislinn flicked the rest of her cigarette into the lake. "I know it's bad, but I'm sure th' fish wouldn't mind getting' some nicotine." She smiled, as if she shared a private joke with someone invisible.
Harry sighed. "I didn't know you smoked." It was a statement rather than an accusation, and fortunately Aislinn recognized it as such.
She sighed as well, but hers sounded more melancholy. "I know, Harry. It's a bad habit, an' I realize it. I never did drugs, I rarely get drunk-" She paused and then continued again. "-That's not saying I don't, mind ye, but very rarely. And def'nitely not when I'm coming back t' the school tonight. Anyway, I got started smokin' fairly young, and got hooked." She shook her finger at Harry, her eyes dancing. "If I ever catch ye, I'll give yer arse a royal fonging, ye hear?"
Harry laughed. At least she managed to keep a sense of humor. "You shouldn't have to worry about that, Professor. I have no desire to give myself lung cancer." He smiled. "Professor, I've heard a rumor that you would be leaving." He waited for some confirmation, but when none came he proceeded with his question. "It can't be true, can it?"
Aislinn sighed. "I wish 't weren't, darlin.'"
"B-b-but you can't leave! Who will I learn Occlumency from? Who will teach me about being an Auror!" Harry wrung his hands nervously. "You can't go," he said in a tiny, upset voice.
Aislinn smiled again, but sadly this time. "I don't know who'll be teachin' ye. All I can 'ope is that 's not Snape; that would be an absolute crime. Harry, there comes a point in everyone's life that they must give up somethin' they care about. I love this job, I love the students I teach, but certain circumstances have made it difficult f'r me t' remain 'ere. I would give me entire soul t' stay, but at the same time, I would be too afraid o' puttin' ye in any kind o' danger."
"What danger?" Harry asked.
"I am a wanted woman, Harry. Death Eaters would stop at nothin' t' make sure I don't survive. I know too much about Voldemort; I know too much about who's who in his elite society. I am a threat t' 'is establishment." Professor O'Flannery paused for a moment, as if contemplating something. Her nails made clicking sounds and she tapped them against each other. "You see why I won't stay? I could incur all sorts o' harm against ye, and all o' yeer friends and family. I won't risk that f'r my sake. I am not worth that much."
Harry was silent. Her reasoning made absolute sense, but in his heart of hearts, he did not want to believe it. He adored her, in his own way. She gave a certain aura to the school; a lightness that he had never really felt before. The oppressiveness that seemed to always hang above his head was dissipating, and he thought it had little to do with his own personal situation. "Professor O'Flannery, may I confide something in you?" he asked timidly.
She appeared shocked for a moment, but hid her emotions well. "O' course, child. What is it ye want t' tell me?"
He started at the beginning, when he first saw her in the club and received a feeling about her emotional state. He described how it had persisted, and how now he felt almost everything anyone else was feeling.
Aislinn thought a moment before answering, and when she did her words were measured. "Harry," she began, "that's a gift if I've ever heard o' one. Y' have a talent, and I don't want ye to think about ignorin' it, or wishin' t' give it up. At the same time, it's a dubious talent. I admit it would seem t' make things a lot more difficult, but y' must realize that you're a talented young man. Ye've got gifts that no one else has. I don't know if it has t' do wi' what ye've been t'rough, but child, believe me, cultivate th' talents y' have. I know I would do th' same."
Harry contemplated on her advice for a moment. "I know it's a talent, but I wouldn't necessarily call it a gift. Frankly, it's odd." When she nodded, he continued. "Of course it makes things easier with people I know, but when I'm picking up emotions of complete strangers I feel like I'm drilling into their skull, into places they don't want me."
"Harry, darlin,' unnerstand that once ye've worked on these talents you've got, your control of things will be better. If you train yourself, you can block out the emotions you don't want to feel; perhaps in a while you'll even forget y' notice them." She turned to look back out at the lake. The sun was rapidly slipping behind the horizon and the sky was growing dark above the tenuous orange hue. "Ye might want t' head inside, Harry. I don't think talkin' t' me would get ye pardon from another professor."
Harry nodded and stood, feeling a lot better. "Thank you very much, Professor," he said before turning to walk inside.
Snape had been drawn outside by the hint of a breeze and caught a glance of unruly hair framing a face similar to James Potter's. He sneered. His son had come to resemble him in so many ways: the face, the hair, the arrogance. However, Lily's green eyes stared out of his face. Severus felt a twinge of pain at remembering Lily. He had loved her for a while, but only from a distance. She would have never had him anyway, so he pretended to hate her for her parentage. Given, he had never been close with Mudbloods, but letting her know his true feelings would only set him up for another drubbing. So he had merely watched and desired, and then let James steal away the only person he had ever truly wanted.
All at once, Snape stopped. Someone was humming, and the voice sounded awfully familiar. He padded on quiet grass until he was able to see around a corner of the old castle and wondered where she had been. The woman had been gone all day; no one could find her. Snape hadn't bothered to ask Dumbledore. He wouldn't have divulged his knowledge anyway. A thought crossed Snape's mind, and it dealt with the difficult task of apologizing. Now would probably be the perfect time to do it. O'Flannery was alone and not expecting him. He would just tell her he was sorry and move on.
He stepped out from around the castle, and cleared his throat. "Miss O'Flannery?" he asked in a tenuous voice.
She started, and shot to her feet faster than Snape could have thought possible. "Pairilis!" she cried, flinging the strange word toward him. Suddenly, he felt as though invisible cords were binding his limbs, and tightly. He could not speak. Something was pressing on his windpipe, cutting off all access to oxygen. He started to see spots, but it seemed O'Flannery finally realized who he was.
She snapped her fingers and muttered another strange word and the unseen bonds were released. She looked at him sullenly and crossed her arms over her breasts. "Yes?" she demanded, sounding irate.
Snape cleared his throat again, sucking in air gratefully. "Thank you for almost killing me, Miss O'Flannery," he spat contemptuously. "I see how you treat intruders into your space; believe me when I say I won't be making that mistake again."
"Go bugger yer arse, Snape. I've got better things t' do than bandy words wi' ye." She turned to go, but Snape called out her last name as though it were a curse. She strode toward him until they were within an arm's length of each other. They glared at each other with mutual hate.
"Miss, I came to tell you I'm sorry about the other night. I didn't know." Snape's mouth was dry. Having to humble himself to anyone was so degrading.
Aislinn sneered, then spit on his shoe. "That's what I think o' yer apology, Snape. Ye didn't know, did ye? Well if I had me way, ye still wouldn't know. By the grace o' God, 'twas none o' your fuckin' business."
Severus was taken aback. She had the utter gall to spit on him, when she had teased him since the beginning of the school year with her silences? "Listen to me, you fool. I don't care if the entire excremental isle that is Ireland raped you, when I offer an apology you accept it, understand! I do not humble myself to anyone, let alone anyone of your standards. You lived as a fucking Muggle for Christ's sake."
Aislinn's face was twisted with rage. Her narrow eyes became angry slits, and she bared her teeth as if she were a wild animal. Snape noticed then that her canines appeared unusually sharp, like those of a wildcat's. There was pure and unbridled hate in her expression.
He couldn't stop himself from continuing. If she was going to be cruel, he could be just as spiteful. "I see your anger now. You hate me, and for a good reason. You wanted to be mysterious. You wanted to be adored for being the good daughter, the one that didn't turn. But I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill me, and that would make you no better than your family. If you had the chance, I'm sure you would do the same to your daughter as was done to you. You're a fraud, O'Flannery. A fucking fraud, and I'm here to make sure you remember that every single day you continue to live at Hogwarts."
She moved to fast for him to do anything. A pain exploded in his lower jaw and he staggered. His head swung around, and he sprayed blood and spit as he tried to regain his balance. He squinted. Flashes of light were bursting in his head. The world was spinning. Snape reached up and touched the tip of his tongue; his finger came away bloody. He could scarcely believe what was going on. "You-you hit me," he said in disbelief.
O'Flannery looked at him disdainfully. "If ye ever mention what was done to me again, I'll slit yee're throat. D'ye unnerstand? No one would miss ye, and I have no qualms about it. If I'm so much like me family, then I could do it wi' a clear conscience." She reached out at patted his aching jaw, and hard. "Watch yer back, Severus, because if I see ye make one wrong step, then..." She drew her finger across her throat like a knife, and promptly walked away, whistling a tune.
When she was out of sight, Severus lowered himself to the grass. The sunlight was almost entirely gone, but he needed to rest for a while before attempting the stairs. His eyes were still unfocused. The woman obviously had a strong fist. He continued to rub his jaw gingerly. He could feel it throbbing, and he knew there would be a nasty swelling there in the morning. He spit out saliva and blood from where his teeth had clamped down on the inside of his cheek. He ran his tongue over the laceration and spat again. Damn woman, he thought with less malice than he should really be feeling.
In fact, he was a bit startled at his own reactions. He had come to apologize, and it had ended once again with a fight. At least this time he wasn't taking advantage of her. The bodiless voice inside his head was talking again, something about him starting it.
"I bloody well know," he told it angrily. "But listen to me, she should have accepted it. It's the only one I'll offer." Snape shut up, realizing that talking to himself was never a good sign. It was embarrassing enough to be floored by a woman, even a woman with a strong arm.
With one arm on the ground and another out for balance, he raised himself to his feet. The entire left side of his face ached, and felt warm to the touch. His anger toward O'Flannery was steadily increasing with each step he took towards the old castle. How dare she! He had done nothing to provoke the attack. Despite his words, she had been the one to initially turn down his attempt at apology. And then she had tried to threaten his life! Part of him dismissed it as folly, but as much as he wanted to deny it the other half of him wondered if she would really do it. He had no doubt that with her heritage she was predisposed to violence. But at the same time, would she really resort back to the brutality of her past, and the horrid bloodbath that had been her childhood? He couldn't really understand it, nor did he want to try to. Some things were just better left to confusion.
His face stung horribly. As he meandered about the hallways of Hogwarts, he tried to ignore the violence in the world around him by losing himself in the thoughts of future lessons and glories. It seemed that as he got older his fantasies no longer took on a sexual nature. Now, they were more about recognition in a world that didn't care, or achievements he had yet to attain. At forty he was completely celibate and wouldn't have it any other way. To him, women were nothing more than temptation when he needed nothing of the sort. Unlike his one-time friend Lucius Malfoy, he did not measure success by how many women he had bedded or virginities he had stolen. Of course there had been a time he felt like that, but things changed. Now sex held no allure for him. He had spent too many nights with whores, too many Dark Revels taking what was not given. It left him feeling burned out and shallow.
By the time he retired to his chambers, all daylight had fled from the sky. Stars were just beginning to twinkle in the dark velvet night, and Snape stood at his window, rubbing his sore jaw and watching clouds drift lazily across the moon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the brandy decanter was empty, and he cursed under his breath. He would have to run into London tomorrow in order to buy some more. Good brandy was hardly something to live without. Instead he went to his bathroom and poured himself a glass of cold water, which he downed in one gulp. He could feel it hit his stomach and was reminded he hardly ate anything that night. Hunger would soon follow. The night was not cold enough for a fire, but there was no doubt in his mind that the upcoming winter would be one of frigid days and even colder nights.
Snape turned from the window and drew the curtains, blocking out any light from outside. Instead he lit a lamp and stared as his face in a mirror. There was a distinct swelling on his jaw that was turning a sickening shade of purple. If decorum allowed it, he would show O'Flannery the back of his hand, but he doubted it would solve anything, except get him fired. He was already in enough trouble to last him the next twenty years of his career.
He stalked into the bathroom, all the while cursing the fates that had aligned to make him a teacher. He ran cold water from the faucet onto a towel and put it on his swelling jaw, flinching as he applied pressure. There was no way in hell he would go to Madame Pomfrey and risk having to explain his injury. No, he would just suffer in silence, and if anyone asked he would not answer. There was no use in further embarrassing himself. A woman, he thought angrily.
The bed called longingly. He was tired, and there was much needed rest to be gotten. Fortunately he had the luxury of sleeping in tomorrow. After a rest, he could get the brandy in London, pick up some potion supplies, and plot on how to rid himself of his nemesis. He sighed as he settled his uninjured cheek into his pillow and closed his eyes. Sleep washed over him like a blanket, and with it came dreams of blood, and something that looked like a child with his eyes.
Aislinn had the need for music. She had been practicing her guitar all day, but at the same time, she needed something more calming, something more elegant. She once more took to the outdoors, but this time she carried something in a black case, much smaller than her two guitars. She carried a bow, and when she reached the shores of the lake, she stopped, putting the case down and unzipping it. Inside, there laid a shiny violin, polished to absolute perfection. She smiled and tightened the bow a bit before picking up her fiddle and resting her chin on it.
The first long sweep of the bow produced a sound neither high nor low. It was merely a perfect monotone on which she gauged her playing. She moved her fingers on the fingerboard, arranging different chords and testing her strings. When she was sure everything was tuned, she began with a slow tune, closing her eyes and swaying with the music. Her bow moved faster and her face was tight with concentration. The notes cut through the still night air, and several birds twittered from their nests.
Aislinn opened her eyes slowly and she drew her bow across the strings slowly. She could hear screams in her head; she could feel the blood rushing down her back and onto her bare legs. It wasn't her fault. Daddy, don't hurt me anymore. The song filled with anger and emotion. She pictured Severus Snape in her mind, and she could feel her senses swimming with the Veritaserum. Her hand against his face. His lips on hers. Dreams. Her mutilated back and her father's face. tÁivé Máiria...
The violin fell from her grasp and her knees buckled. Her lips parted in an animal cry, long, low, and keening. "Bail, O Dia, ar an obair," she whimpered as her hands twisted in the dirt by the lake's shore. "Bail ar an obair."
Her voice trailed off. She knew what she must do. The violin was hastily packed with the bow, and her robes flew behind her as she ran into the ancient castle and up the stairs to her chamber. After two snaps the door flew open, and a frightened orange tabby looked up at her with luminous eyes.
"We must go, Bosún. There is no hope here for me."
The cat meowed questioningly as Aislinn hastily scribbled out a note and left it on her desk. It was probably childish, but for once she didn't care. For once she would let her emotions guide her decision, rather than her hard-learned common sense. If she were to keep her sanity, she would need to flee. She changed out of her school robes and into jeans and a t- shirt, threw a few things into an old satchel, picked up her cat, waited for Yankee Doodle to exit the chamber, and closed her door. She didn't bother to reset wards; she would worry about her things later. For the moment, she just wanted to be gone.
With Bosún tucked under one arm and her satchel across her shoulder she followed Yankee outside and into the pale moonlight. Hagrid's cottage looked lonely at the edge of the woods, and Aislinn fought back the urge to pay him one last visit. Instead she shook of her nostalgia and, with strident steps, passed the through the gates that marked the edge of Hogwarts' grounds.
Aislinn O'Flannery stopped and set the cat down. He hobbled about for a bit before finally deciding to sit, and stared up at his mistress with large, luminescent eyes. His tail flicked back and forth nervously. Aislinn regarded him with cool indifference. She thought back, ticking off the places she could go. She would not return to Cork. To do that would be to face her past, something she didn't quite think she was ready for. She hadn't been back since she had graduated from Hogwarts. The flat in London had sold; Lupin had no permanent residence. Her thoughts turned back to friends, and one name in particular stood out in her mind. Fionnuala MacAoidhigán. That is where she would find safety.
She whistled through pursed lips, and Yankee Doodle drifted down to her upraised wrist. The satchel's strap passed between her breasts, and she picked up Bosún before closing her eyes. She concentrated hard, focusing on the energy surrounding her body. She was light; she was nothing more than air. It seemed the air around her picked up, whistling around her as if she was standing in the middle of a gale. She gripped her cat tighter, but Yankee Doodle still sat calm on her wrist. He was used to this, after all.
With a loud crack, it was over as quickly as it had begun. Aislinn staggered slightly upon taking her first step, but quickly regained her balance. Her eagle turned loose, soaring above her head, and Bosún wriggled in her arms. She set him down as a child about four years old rushed out from behind the house. He seemed perplexed for a moment, but was soon off and running.
"Mummy!" he screamed, tearing off in the direction he came from. "There's someone outside to see you!"
Aislinn whistled and her eagle soared lower over her head. She waited for her cat to stand before taking a step forward towards the cottage. A woman with floury white hands and flame-red hair peeked through a window, a large smile spreading across her face. She didn't even bother to shut the door behind her. Instead she ran across the field separating the cottage from the path, her bare feet kicking up grass.
"Fionnuala!" Aislinn shouted, and embraced her old friend.
The woman returned the greeting. "Cad as tú?" she asked as she pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, leaving a floury trail across her cheek.
"Good as I can be with an ass for a co-worker and a devil sitting on my back," she replied in Gaelic, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Fionnuala. "I'll tell you more about it later, but for now, we speak of happy things. How are the children?"
The small child that had heralded Aislinn's arrival was peeking out of a window. She knew there were five more inside, the youngest no older than half a year. In response, Fionnuala beckoned with her finger. "Come inside the house," she said. "It's warmer, and the wind doesn't cut so deep."
Aislinn followed her friend, passing into the cottage that smelled of warmth and bread. The three older children were clustered around the hearth, one of them was holding a tiny baby that gurgled and cooed. The other two were nowhere to be seen.
"Aoife, Maighread, do you remember Aislinn?" Fionnuala asked and were met with nods. Hellos were muttered, and Aislinn turned to the lone boy among the girls. He hefted the baby to his chest protectively. "Arrah, Kevin, don't kill the wee child," she admonished jokingly. The boy smiled and held out the baby. Aislinn took her, cradling the tiny thing in her arms. "What's her name?" she asked softly, stroking the baby's cheek.
"My husband decided on Maeve, although I wanted to call her Eileen. She's almost five months now. It's hard to believe that only half a year ago I was the size of a boulder." Almost without thinking she pulled a wand out of her waistband and waved it at the oven door. It opened, revealing three fresh loaves of soda bread. "Aoife, could you get those?" she asked offhandedly.
Aislinn smiled. "It's so different seeing a normal family again," she quipped to her friend. "I'm used to children now, but without parents they seem a bit different." She shook her head. "I still can't believe you have six."
Fionnuala smiled. "It's work, I can tell you. But I love them all. Aoife will be heading to Hogwarts next year, God willing. Speaking of Hogwarts, Aislinn Ríonach, is that why you're here?" Fionnuala rested her chin on her hands and tilted her head, meaning she was listening. She had done that ever since Aislinn first met her so many years ago.
"I don't really know, 'Nuala. I needed a place to escape to, not necessarily yours. But I came here because I know I'm welcome, and unlike Saoirse, you'd actually be home. I just don't know what I should be doing now." Aislinn continued speaking, explaining the entire situation to her friend as the baby slept in her arms.
When she was finished, Fionnuala sat back for a moment, pulling on a lock of her short hair. "Well, my dear, I have no problem with putting you up for as long as you need it until you can sort through your little problem. I could always use an extra hand with the children, and Lord knows Declan wouldn't mind. I'll put you in the guest room. And of course, eagles and cats are welcome." Fionnuala smiled and held out her arms. "I think someone needs dinner and then bed."
Aislinn left the kitchen as Fionnuala fed her youngest daughter, and climbed the stairs to the room where she would be staying for an unknown amount of time. She knew the cottage well; in fact Fionnuala and her husband Declan were two of her closest friends. The other, Saoirse, was probably on holiday in France simply to be on holiday, and Lupin was filling in for her at Hogwarts. She couldn't help but wonder what everyone was doing now. They were probably sleeping tight in their beds, which is what I should be doing now, she thought. She kicked off her shoes and went through the ritual of changing into nightclothes before opening the window to let Yankee Doodle out. Bosún was curled up at her feet, and she stretched one last time before relaxing. She was already feeling better.
It seemed final. She was gone, she had quit the grounds last night and no one, and no one had any idea where she had vanished. Harry Potter shrugged his shoulders with a sigh and clasped his head with his arms. It had been a horrible week, and it was only Sunday. Fortunately, Aislinn's substitute for the time being was an old friend, Remus Lupin. He had been the Defense professor in Harry's third year, and was looking even more haggard than usual.
That morning, Dumbledore had made the announcement that Professor O'Flannery had filed her resignation papers, but had mysteriously disappeared after speaking with Professor Snape Saturday night. Professor Lupin was to be taking her place until either she returned or a full-time professor could be found.
Overall, Harry was happy with the change. Lupin was a friend of both his and his father's, and he got along with the werewolf delightfully. After all, it was he that taught Harry to ward off Dementors with a Patronus charm. Harry was just waiting for the right moment to approach him and start a conversation.
Hermione and Ron had said little that day. Hermione, of course, was busy studying for Charms, but Ron was dejected and hadn't come out of the Gryffindor common room since breakfast.
"Come on, Ron, you have to get out and do something today. You can't just sit around moping until things change," Harry pleaded, trying to get his friend active. "Let's go talk to Lupin."
Ron shook his head. "No deal, mate. I'm trying to wrap my head around everything. It's so bloody confusing right now, and it hurts my head."
Harry nodded and promptly left. Ron's dismal mood was affecting him as well, and for once he didn't want to be trapped inside on a perfectly gorgeous day. There was a slight wind ruffling the trees, but it was neither too warm nor too cold. It was a quintessential October day, and Harry was determined to spend it outside.
Suddenly, an idea came to him. He turned and dashed back into his dormitory and up the steps, grabbing his broomstick from where he had left it from Quidditch practice the last few days. In no time he was by the playing field and in the air, soaring around like he had no cares in the world. He began doing quick cutting moves through the air and progressed on to elaborate spins and acrobatic tricks, all the while speeding along at a breakneck pace.
When Harry glanced down, he saw a lone figure in the bleachers, clapping wildly. Harry grinned, recognizing it as Professor Lupin. He zoomed down back to terra firma and alighted from his broom. Lupin stood as well and came down to meet Harry on the playing field. He was grinning as well.
"Well hello, Harry Potter, my young friend," the professor said, pushing a stray hair out of his face.
"It's nice to see you again, Professor. I had been wondering when I'd hear from you." Harry extended his hand, but Lupin pulled him into a friendly hug.
"Well, you're hearing from me now. I'm back for the time being at Dumbledore's orders. The former Professor O'Flannery is out for the time being, getting her bearings." Lupin shrugged.
Harry scratched his head. "I don't really get it, Professor. Everyone here with the exception of Malfoy and his cronies loves her. Why did she leave, and where did she go?" Harry raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you friends with her?"
"Harry, I think you and I are in for a chat. Come on, we can head back to the castle for a good talk."
"I don't really want to go in yet, Professor. Do you want to go sit by the lake instead? The weather's nice enough."
Lupin nodded, and Harry shouldered his broomstick as he followed he professor. They found a shady spot at the lake's shore and settled down, Harry laying on the ground and Lupin resting his back against a tree trunk.
"I don't really know where to start, Harry. I don't know where Aislinn's gone, but I have a pretty good idea it's somewhere in Ireland. She has tons of little haunts on that island, you know, places she'll go when she needs to unwind. If she gets over stressed, I've known her to disappear for days, sometimes even weeks. She always comes back though, so even though she's submitted her resignation, I have no doubt my stint here in only temporary. You can't keep the woman away for long." Lupin paused, smiling at some fond memory Harry wasn't privy to. "She's a wonderful woman, Harry. A bit flighty, but wonderful nonetheless."
Harry nodded. "I know, Professor. She's a good asset to the school. Did she tell you she's going to tell me about being an Auror?" he asked.
Lupin shook his head. "No, but she might not be the best person to ask. Oh, she knows the skills as well as anyone, but as an Auror she was ostracized, hated, if you may. No one is really sure where her allegiance lies."
"I know," Harry said proudly. "I saw it in her head. She's one of us, Professor. It wasn't her fault the Death Eaters used her like that!"
Lupin shook his head again. "I know as well as you do she hates Voldemort, boy. But Death Eaters didn't just use her. In case you've forgotten, her parents were Death Eaters." Lupin's eyes blazed with contained anger, holding Harry's with intensity. "Do you know what they did to her?"
Harry looked shocked. "Her parents?" he asked incredulously. "Her parents did that to her?"
Lupin nodded. "Not directly, but I guess you could say they sacrificed her to it. Both she and her sister were sacrificial lambs because they wouldn't take the Dark Mark."
"Is that why she left?" Harry asked.
The answer did not come quickly. Lupin pondered, running his hands through his graying hair and sighing. His eyes shifted left and right, and his back slumped against the trunk of the tree. "She left because she was betrayed by someone. She guards her past delicately and safely, Harry. Don't ever forget that." With that, Lupin stood and extended a hand. Harry took it and stood, once again shifting his broomstick up onto his shoulder.
"I won't," Harry muttered as he followed his professor inside. If there was something he could be trusted with, it was her secrets. He had no doubt who it was that had betrayed her: Snape. Perhaps that was why he was out in the hallway so late at night. Harry longed to know what he had done, but for once he realized maybe it wasn't his business.