So the woman had returned. It had been two days since her second arrival at Hogwarts, and Snape had tried his best to avoid her, if that was at all possible. He had been running into her in the hallways at almost every turn; he was beginning to think she was trailing him. It almost made him wish for Lupin to return. At least the man hadn't shadowed his footsteps. In his heart of hearts he knew that he would have to face her eventually, but the longer he could put it off, the better. She rarely even looked at him now; at dinner her once-angry face was down turned. She had not tried to speak with him after the incident at the show, but at least her reception had been better at the second meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore's acceptance of her had seemingly convinced everyone else the woman was not a Death Eater, despite her family. Snape had his own proof, but he was not about to stand up and support her among such a varied group. Such an announcement would prove he was originally mistaken, and that was not something he thought he could handle.
He winced as he rubbed his jaw. At least the bruise was gone, but there was still that sick reminder of what he had done to her. Deep inside, he found himself wishing he could have raped her; at least then she would have a legitimate reason for her hate. She was pretty enough, if somewhat plain. Perhaps the only thing that had held him back was her past, and the fact that, at fourteen, Lucius Malfoy had stolen something from her that should have never been taken. He would have felt differently if it had been consensual, but Severus found himself loathing his once-friend more than usual.
He had seen Malfoy in the last days, speaking to Dumbledore about the substitution of a filthy half-breed, no doubt. It had taken almost all of Snape's will to keep the acrid comments out of his greeting. The two had spoken in secret of the next meeting of Death Eaters; it was scheduled to happen soon enough. Fortunately for Severus, it would not be a Revel. Those meetings turned his stomach; he could barely live with himself for days afterwards. Instead, Malfoy had hinted at new schemes and old tricks: deception and murder. Snape only wondered what the scheming area entailed. It would probably be a punishment for allowing O'Flannery to disappear for a time being; Severus winced at the thought. He doubted his body could take any more of the Cruciatus.
In order to "prove his loyalty" he had been subjected to it until his body was to the point of breaking. He had crawled back to his bed, barely able to walk, and slept for three days, waking only to eat and relieve himself. It had put the fear of the afterlife into him; he no longer doubted what Voldemort was capable or willing to inflict upon his own Death Eaters. He smiled a private smile as he found himself mouthing O'Flannery's words. What did I do to deserve this?
You were born, Severus, he told himself and popped his knuckles. Despite his annoyance at the woman, he felt he had to admit she was a fantastic musician. She had a presence with a guitar in her hands very few people could have ever managed, even with coaching and practice. He had seen her outside once since her return, whistling away on a flute, filling the air with a haunting melody that made him think of fog-enshrouded coasts and lonely sojourns.
Severus checked his wristwatch, noting the time. Three hours until dinner, and then another long night of hallway patrols. Albus had hinted at relieving him of them; his report of a prowling Animagus had obviously made a good impression. Overall, however, Dumbledore didn't seem overly concerned about Aislinn and her uninvited visit. In fact, the headmaster seemed to have expected it. She had violated no laws, after all, and caused no harm to either student or teacher. Dumbledore wouldn't seek to press charges; she had been a Professor, after all. He had promised to speak with her, and when Snape saw O'Flannery later that day, she had a chastised animal look about her, despite the fact her head was held high. Nothing could injure that woman's pride.
A sudden burst of maniacal laughter floated through the halls, but Snape didn't pause in his strides. Peeves had probably caught some unfortunate student with ink, or had tipped a statue over on Mrs. Norris again. Snape couldn't help but smile. The lurking cat was asking for it most of the time. He paused at a window, watching students meander around the lake. It was a fairly nice day. After the weeks of rain, several days of pleasant, sunny weather had dried out the ground. There was still a definite chill in the air, but almost no one would turn down an opportunity in the sun.
Snape watched Draco Malfoy's blonde head as the boy laughed. At sixteen, he looked very much like Lucius, with his white-blonde hair, straight nose, and high cheekbones, but he had inherited Narcissa's delicate mouth. Overall he was a very attractive young man; Snape had noticed many of the Slytherin girls watching him as he walked past, muttering about Pansy Parkinson, Draco's current girlfriend. Snape had chosen to overlook the fact that they were sleeping together; after all, both students were in his house. He didn't see sex as a crime. Young people would be young people, complete with all the sordid details and bad decisions that came with youthfulness. It was only inter-house relationships that bothered him. Like should stick with like. There was no greater blasphemy than, say, a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw, or a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor. The very thought made his lip curl.
Something soaring above the trees caught his eye. He sighed as he realized what it was: Harry Potter on a broomstick, zooming around the Quidditch field, looking for the golden snitch. He had almost forgotten that there was to be a Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor the coming weekend. There was no doubt who would win. Potter's lifetime ban, put there by Delores Umbridge, had been revoked, so Slytherin had almost no chance. The team was adequate, but it was no match for Potter's superior skills, or those two Weasely children. Last year Snape was sure they Quidditch cup would have been theirs, but Ron Weasely had somehow improved within days, and this year, Ginny Weasely was a Chaser, and a good one at that. Most of the Slytherin team was built for power, not for speed. It was a shame Marcus Flint had graduated. That was a talented player.
Snape lingered at the window a few minutes longer, wondering if maybe his own sordid childhood could have been different. He was still seething about Potter… He let the thought go, taking a deep breath to chase down his anger. Nothing could be done about that now. The past was the past, and the future was unknown. Maybe the boy would die battling Voldemort. Snape could only be so lucky. No doubt the boy would survive to life a highly decorated life, which was if he survived. Snape grimaced at the thought of his former master, and tried to chase the vile feeling at the back of his throat down.
He turned from the window back into the relative darkness of the castle corridors. Let the boy face whatever is coming to him. What did it matter to him if Potter lived or died? As much as Snape tried to accept that idea, it was apparent that he depended on Potter's success. He couldn't really believe that if Potter died, Voldemort would allow Severus to live. Somehow news of his deception would leak out, and then he was as good as dead. A shiver ran through his bones, one that had nothing to do with the weather.
His thoughts turned back to O'Flannery. As much as he hated to admit it, she did deserve an apology. He just didn't realize how to do it. Another random confrontation would not work, especially not in a public place. The last attempt had ended in bruising and humiliation. If only there was a surefire way to get the woman alone, in a private area without having to use a ruse of seduction…
Snape winced. The very thought was chilling. His grimace turned to a hidden smile though, as he imagined the look of shock that would appear on O'Flannery's face if he even attempted to touch her. She would probably hit him again. However, he couldn't help but wonder if she would have him. He hated her, but she was enthralling. There was so much he didn't know about her, and so much she kept guarded. It made her appealing in a sick sense of the word, and Severus didn't know whether to embrace the idea or run screaming from it.
He sighed to himself again. The woman was a right mystery. If only he could figure out a way to humble himself to her without groveling. If only she would let him off without forcing him to do so.
"I have been absent for a while, and I'm sorry. I don't expect any of you to be happy with me, or even remotely pleased at my sudden disappearance." Professor O'Flannery's face was taut, concerned even. "I am here to make my apologies and move on. I hope you can do the same." Aislinn paused, her hands twisted together in front of her. She was uncomfortable having to explain herself, but she felt an explanation was due. She had seemingly abandoned her charges, leading to initial confusion. "I guarantee that I shall remain here for the remainder of the year, if not longer. There will be no more disappearances or absences from myself, unless it is needed or called for. You have my word." She raised her hands in a gesture of friendship and honesty, resisting the urge to swear her oath in the language of her youth. She doubted anyone except Finnegan would understand it.
Her eyes swept over the boy, taking in his suspicious eyes and tight mouth. He didn't believe her. The boy came from an Irish wizard family. There was no way in hell that he hadn't heard of Clannad O'Flannabhra and the history behind it. She shouldn't have to try to convince him, but yet at the same time she wanted no doubt that she was not her family. Years upon years of humiliation, torture, and power had built up quite a reputation for the O'Flannerys, but Aislinn was willing to sacrifice everything to erase that black smear on her name. She would gladly rid herself of the manor estate, the piles of money in the Gringott's Bank, and the acres of land if only she could be looked on without disgust.
She sighed, muttering under her breath as she swept out from behind her desk and leaned against it instead. She laced her fingers together, resting her hands on her belly. "I understand from Professor Lupin that you have begun covering shielding charms. I believe we have beaten the history to death, and instead of boring you today I think we shall continue with practical lessons. So, my dears, wands out and partners chosen." She snapped her fingers. Students partnered up with others and began working. She had to admit, the Protego Charm was a difficult spell to do, one that required lightening-fast reflexes and a calm head. She resisted looking at Potter, practicing with Hermione Granger. The boy had this spell down perfectly.
She began flickering around the classroom, observing all groups with a wary eye. There was always room for improvement, even for her. She was leaning over, helping Lavender Brown, when she heard the swish of a wand, a whispered incantation, and a yelp of pain. Aislinn shot to attention, fixing Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, with a glare full of malevolence. She had taken in the scene at once. Obviously an ill-timed spell of Finnegan's had hit her, and she had retaliated. Finnegan's cheek was bloody from a five-inch long gash, which he held, moaning. Blood trickled between his fingers on onto the stone floor.
"Miss Zabini," Aislinn growled lowly. "If I may see you in my office, please? Finnegan, stop pouting, it's easily fixed." She crooked her finger at Blaise and fell in behind her, closing the door once the office was reached.
It took a good five minutes to get through her blubbering of "it was an accident, I swear," but by the time detention with Filch was assigned, Zabini was shooting looks of absolute hatred at her. Aislinn always hated punishing students, but they absolutely could not believe they had free rein in her classroom. She opened the door, allowing a chastised Blaise to exit, and raised an eyebrow at Seamus. "Finnegan."
The boy's face was petrified in a look of fear. Aislinn was taken aback. Surely he couldn't hate her so much? She stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind her and turning to face Seamus as he stopped in front of him, eyes on the floor and still holding his cheek. "What did you do to her, Finnegan?" Aislinn asked in Gaelic.
He answered in the same throaty language, voice halting in shame and fear. "She had insulted my girlfriend yesterday, so when she was bending over getting her wand I sent a stinging hex over at her arse-" he winced at the choice of words, but it was too late now "-and next thing you know she turns and curses me." He hung his head.
"Finnegan, I wish I could let you off the hook but you started it this time. I'm sorry to say you'll be serving some detention with Filch as well, but I'll see that you have it at a different time than Miss Zabini over there. I want you to understand, Mr. Finnegan, that cheap retaliation is never profitable or honorable. You'll only do yourself harm."
The boy still wasn't looking at her. "Seamus." That got his attention, and his eyes met hers. "Don't believe everything you hear, boy. I would give everything I could to erase what has been done under the pennant of O'Flannery." She smiled as she realized he was shocked. "I'm not stupid, Mr. Finnegan. I've got many more years that you do."
"Gabh mo leithscéal," was all he said. She was beginning to believe his eyes were permanently fixed on the ground.
"As well you should be." She crossed her arms over her breasts in mock aggravation. "Níl aon dochar déanta, Finnegan. Now get to Madame Pomfrey before your robes start dripping." She watched him hurry out of the room, trailing small spatters of blood behind him. Every day was interesting when dealing with large crowds of kids shoved in one room. She ignored a few angry glances from the Slytherin students and many more confused stares from the others and continued with her help.
She made her way around the room until she reached Potter and Granger. "It's nice t' see y' didn't make any more trips into London. That was a serious infraction." She smiled. "I won't even bother askin' how ye have the charm down so well, but Mr. Potter, I believe we have detention t' continue."
Hermione looked at her askance. "Detention? Is this about London?"
Aislinn shook her head, conversing in lower tones. "I've chosen t' overlook London entirely. 'Twas a brave but stupid thing ye three did, and I stress th' word stupid. However, Mr. Potter owes me four more days o' detention, from a violation of basic manners earlier in the year." She knew her eyes were twinkling, but hoped she wasn't embarrassing Harry too much, despite the fact that only Potter and Granger could hear her. "I've no doubt he's told ye everythin,' Miss Granger."
Her nod confirmed it. Aislinn wanted to laugh. She remembered her own youth, when everything that had happened to her was shared and poured over by the four closest friends of her youth: Fionnuala, Saoirse, Brianna, and Darcy. If only there was someone close to share her pain and triumphs now. The faces of her friends faded as Aislinn raised her head to face Harry. "I expect ye after dinner. Nine o'clock. No later." She winked and stood, moving on to help someone else.
Class fairly sped by; in fact the bell surprised her as students scrambled about, trying to pack up at the last minute. Aislinn sighed as the last child left her room and fairly fell into her chair. Her first day back in the classroom had gone incredibly well. The first years had been more than excited she was back, and she had to curb their enthusiasm with threats of extra homework. Except for that little snafu with Seamus and Blaise, her second lesson couldn't have gone better. She was amazed at their progress; she made a mental note to thank Remus for his attention and time. He had obviously taught them well.
Now it was back to making lesson plans and grading papers. Fionnuala couldn't understand why Aislinn missed it so much, but the spontaneity of teaching never ceased to amaze her. She had missed it. Taking a few weeks vacation was called for, but Aislinn felt as if she had finally come home for good. She had all but renounced life in Cork, and Hogwarts was where she felt needed. She leaned forward to shuffle papers, skimming over the top one. It was Malfoy's, and the boy actually had many good points. Aislinn grimaced. She tried her hardest not to hate the boy, but it was hard to do when his father was the one who had stolen her virginity. Draco excelled at Defense Against the Dark Arts, but then again, the boy was raised in a household rife with it. Aislinn didn't know much about Narcissa, just that she condoned her husband's actions, even if she was never a direct part of it. Even that made Aislinn hate her. She fairly shook with rage every time she thought of Malfoy, and she had actually seen him in the corridors two days ago. She had to hold herself back; she had wanted to launch herself at his throat, rip it with her teeth. Maybe then he would understand how she felt.
Aislinn shook her head, realizing her teeth were bared in a snarl. This was her off period, so she stood, taking the stack of papers with her and slipping a red pen into one of the pockets of her teaching robes. The staff room had a good fire going, no doubt, and there she could get a nice cup of tea. Perhaps she would even have company. Aislinn smiled as she shut the door behind her, remembering to set wards. She began whistling a tune under her breath, an old song about a long homecoming.
"Mr. Potter, please, shut th' door. It's damn drafty in those hallways and I don't want any o' that extra cold air in me classroom."
Harry did so, noting that her classroom did feel warm. A minor heating charm no doubt, since the classroom itself didn't have a fireplace, and Aislinn didn't seem keen to move into her office. A quick glance through the door showed the desk to be piled full with papers and other things synonymous with resettling. Harry turned to smile at his professor, and stared in shock at an orange blob propped on his professor's lap.
Aislinn chuckled at him. "'E gets lonely all locked up in me room. The eagle can come an' go as 'e pleases, but Bo's stuck on th' ground." The blob shifted at the sound of her voice, and Harry found himself staring into two fathomless green eyes. It was an orange tabby cat with several large chunks taken out of his ears; scars long healed.
"What's his name?" asked Harry.
"Bosún, or Bo f'r short. It means 'mistake.'" The mistake suddenly hopped down off his mistress' lap, and Harry gaped once more.
"It only has three legs," he pointed out rather obviously, and felt ashamed immediately afterwards. Of course its owner would know about its legs! Harry stared at where its fourth leg should be, where there was only a tiny stump descending from the hip. The cat, however, moved quickly with a hopping gait and didn't seem troubled by his missing appendage at all.
Professor O'Flannery sighed. "I know. About four years ago, right when I got meself a job at th' Ministry, I found that useless bag o' fuzz on th' side o' the road. He'd been hit by a car, an' 'is poor leg was so mangled a vet had t' get rid of it. I decided t' keep him because 'e reminded me a lot o' meself, actually. He was beat up and left f'r dead, but the ould bastard survived, much like you and I did, I guess. He's a daily reminder o' survival an' perseverance."
"Is that why you named him Bos-Bos-whatever?" asked Harry, trying to fit his tongue around the strange language.
His professor threw back her head and laughed. "Bosún, Harry. Say it after me. Bosún." It sounded like "bosoon," with an odd slur on the s. Harry tried it, and even O'Flannery had to admit it came out well.
"But, yes, I named 'im Bosún, or Mistake, b'cause 'twas a mistake 'e ever survived. He should be dead, but there 'e is, pretty as ye please." The cat turned around when Aislinn said his name and meowed. He turned again, batting his paw at a dust bunny. He completely ignored Harry, hopping about the classroom while jumping at invisible animals.
Harry heard Professor O'Flannery sigh, and he turned back to face her. "So are we going to continue with Occlumency?" he asked.
Aislinn nodded. "We are indeed, and I have taken th' liberty of returnin' Dumbledore's pensieve. As before, I won't be usin' it." She popped her knuckles; the echo drifted around the empty classroom before fading. "All right, remember t' empty yeerself of emotion. Take a deep breath. Exhale." Harry followed her instructions, trying to relax. He found it difficult, thinking on what was to come.
"One, two, three… Legilimens!"
Once again there was the force of intrusion into his head, and once more the painful memories all began to resurface. Cho Chang. Dudley. Cedric Diggory in the graveyard. Harry's voice tore from his throat, and he realized he had hit the cold stones of the castle floor.
Professor O'Flannery was bending over him, a look of concern on her face. "Are ye all right, boyo?" she asked, reaching down to help him up. Her grip was incredibly strong.
"I-I think so," Harry answered, rubbing his head. "Just every time I think about that…" He let his voice trail off.
"It must o' been horrible f'r ye, Harry. If ye'd like a minute t' compose yeerself, we can wait."
Harry nodded and sat back down in his chair, taking several large gasping breaths. He still had nightmares about Cedric's cold body, staring vacantly off into space with his dead, expressionless eyes. Harry grimaced and forced the memory down his throat, trying to clear his head again. "I think I'm ready," he said to his professor, and clenched his fists.
Aislinn muttered the incantation again, and Harry tried his best to stop her. However, she moved around his block and began sifting through his memories as if they were sand. Harry raised his wand and cast the shielding charm, and once more his head was filled with his teacher's memories.
There was the show from Saturday night and his face, a younger Professor Lupin and Aislinn cuddling on a couch, and Aislinn sitting across from Snape, drinking a coffee and falling into a stupor.
Harry let go of his concentration as if he had been burned. "What happened?" he asked, confused as he stared at his teacher's rigid face.
Aislinn took a deep breath. "Harry, what I'm about t' tell ye is just between you and me. No one else, understand?"
He nodded, and she continued.
"Ye wondered why I left. It's simply because Professor Snape used veritaserum to find out if I was a Death Eater or not. It was against me consent and without me knowledge. I was hurt and angry, and felt I had t' leave. But now, I've managed t' overcome it, and I won't be leavin' again." She nodded to herself. "I'm here t' stay, at least f'r this year."
Harry's loathing of Snape seemed to deepen, if that was at all possible. That must have been the night he saw him hurrying around in the hallways. "At least you're back," he said to her, smiling. "I think everyone missed you, even Malfoy."
Aislinn shrugged. "Doubt he did, but thanks f'r trying." She smiled back at him. "Let's try it again, shall we? An' this time, give me your wand." She held out her hand and Harry put his wand into it, looking at in longingly. "Harry, you have t' learn t' do this with your mind, not your wand. Ye've got t' make a decision that ye don't want me in your head, and push me out. Ready?"
Harry nodded grimly. It seemed he had little chance for passing this exercise. He dimly heard Professor O'Flannery's counting, or her incantation. All he felt was the familiar push of legilimancy. Harry groped for his wand, but realized he didn't have it. Aislinn was bearing down on him. There was Cedric again, dead…
No! Harry rebelled. Aislinn was forcing him to the floor again, but this time Harry fought back with all his might. He focused all his concentration on driving her out and cutting off his memories from her access. He felt as though he had severed something, and then suddenly the presence of his teacher in his head was gone.
He sat on the floor, exhausted, and watched as Professor O'Flannery jumped to her feet, looking triumphant. "Ye did it, boyo! Ye finally did it!" She pumped a fist in the air and fairly suffocated Harry in a tight hug. "My God, child. I knew ye had it in ye!"
"I…can't…breathe…" was all Harry had to say.
Professor O'Flannery released him, a smile spread across her face. "I'm so feckin' proud o' ye, boy." She handed him his wand back and leaned down to scoop up the orange cat that was rubbing against her legs. She slung him under her arm and beckoned to the door. "I'd say we did well enough f'r tonight. So go t' bed." She winked at him on his way out, holding the maimed cat, and Harry couldn't help but wink back.
She was naked and beautiful underneath him, her body writhing and surging in contortions Severus never knew she was capable of. His mind whirled, trying to think back on when she had come into his room. He had come into his chambers, sat in his armchair, and sometime between then and now O'Flannery had entered. How they wound up in bed was anyone's guess. Her legs wrapped around him. He could smell her flesh; it smelled like sweat, like a woman. She groaned and licked her lips.
Snape wanted to say something to her, anything at all, really. Instead he kissed her forehead and rested his cheek against hers as he thrust inside of her. Aislinn opened her eyes, and the look of adoration on her features was replaced with one of horror as she opened her mouth and screamed…
Severus started in fear and Aislinn's sweaty, contorted face disappeared. Instead Snape found himself looking into a dark fireplace. The ashes reminded him of the piles of bone-dust he had once seen as a boy when he had wandered behind the locked door in his family's cellar. It had been a crypt; in fact it still was. His father Cassius was buried there, and his mother would be when she passed. Generations of Snapes had been laid to rest in that cavernous room, each occupied niche sealed and labeled with the names and dates of its lifeless resident. Severus remembered his scream when he had turned, the feeble light from his wandtip revealing countless skulls piled into carved alcoves in the walls. Bones were piled neatly in a corner; some so old they were disintegrating. His mother had rushed in shortly to find her young son staring with horror at the niche where his father would be buried. The name 'Cassius Snape' and the date of birth, 1942, were bright on the new bronze plaque. It only needed a death date.
Severus mused on his father's death eighteen years ago. It had not been a tragedy. The man had fairly disowned his family. Snape grimaced. His boyhood fear was long behind him now, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the pale ashes in the grate of the cold fireplace. Instead he closed his eyes again, resting his cheek on his palm. It had felt so good to sleep, even if it was a sleep plagued by restless dreams. This most recent one had been disconcerting. It seemed to reveal feelings Snape had been trying to swallow, to keep hidden. There was no carnal desire he felt for O'Flannery, but instead a need to apologize. He needed to humble himself before her once more, but this time he wouldn't mess it up. Forget it, he told himself, attempting to move on.
He stood, feeling an ache in his joints he had not felt previously. Snape suddenly felt his age, and sighed. Now was not the time to be worrying about aching joints and the other drawbacks that came with getting older. Now was a time for reflection in the midst of chaos. Severus' mind wandered to what he would say in the presence of Voldemort. There was a growing feeling in his gut that the Dark Lord would catch on to his ruse, and then Snape would wish he was dead. The Dark Lord had no mercy for traitors. Snape knew he was playing a very dangerous game, but he owed Dumbledore his allegiance. The man had done so much for him, and this was Snape's way of repaying this kindness. He put his life on the line every single day, but he was glad to do it. He would willingly sacrifice his own life if it would save Albus'.
Severus felt his eyes drawn the brandy decanter on his nightstand. The crystal sparkled tantalizingly, but Snape fought the urge with all his will. He had been trying to curtail his drinking, but the struggle was almost too much to take. He tore his eyes away, chasing down the urge. The last time he had gotten drunk was the night after O'Flannery's show; he had awoken with a horrible headache and his stomach lurching violently. It was the worst hangover he had had in years, and it had done its best to teach him a lesson. For the last three days he had done his best to forget that the temptation of alcohol ever existed, but it was still difficult from time to time.
He decided to forget his fear for a while and rose from his chair. The smell as it poured into the tumbler was exquisite, and Snape swirled it around a bit in the glass before sipping it, savoring the taste of the liquor on his tongue. His latest dream had unnerved him greatly. The thought of flesh alternately turned his stomach and aroused him, a feeling that he had not experienced in years. There was the occasional dream, of course, but it was always with a faceless non-entity, not a coworker whom he loved to hate. He found himself drawn to O'Flannery and her mystery, but at the same time he was a bit put off by her attitude, and the debt he owed to her.
The sudden thought of his betrayal made the expensive brandy seem even more tempting. Severus shook it off and drained his tumbler, swearing it would be the only drink for that night. He had to stop somewhere, and what better way than self-denial? It had worked to curb his lustful desires, at least up until recently. Her open, screaming mouth seemed burned into his mind. He wanted to scream with her, scream for her denial, and scream for all that he had done.
Isn't my mood dark today, Snape thought snidely. He placed the tumbler back on the table next to the decanter, pretending not to want another drink. Perhaps if he kept up his ruse of sobriety then maybe it would take. He sighed. There was no chance that would happen. The only way to forget his desire was through frugality. He had to wean himself off of the sauce gradually.
He grimaced. Gradually? There was no "gradually" to it. He had to stop, and now. Severus looked at himself in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were darker, and all the fight had seemingly gone out of him. He had never felt so tired in his life. There was nothing more that he wanted than to lay down and sleep for days. His hand snaked up and rubbed his temples, and the headache pounding in his head seemed to subside. The dream still lingered; he could still smell O'Flannery in his nose and see her reddened face in his mind's eye. He could feel his arousal growing once more, and fought to chase it down. Not now. Not ever. He had learned to chase down affection long ago. He was still standing, and twisted his arms behind his back, pushing outwards. His spine popped loudly and painfully, but the aftereffect was immediate. Some of the tenseness of day was gone. Now it was time to face something he should have done a long time ago. He took a deep breath to steady his shaking hands and opened the door to his chambers, stepping out into the cold hall, and locked the door behind him.
"Is minic a bhris béal duine a shrón, Bosún," Aislinn said sweetly to her cat, watching from across the room. He had been meowing for a good fifteen minutes, and she was simply getting sick of it. He had food, he had been out, there was nothing that good for nothing animal could ask for. Except a fourth leg, she thought with a little chuckle and rose from her seat. She bent to pick up the animal when there was a light knock at her door. Aislinn raised an eyebrow. Surely it wasn't a student, not at this hour. She straightened, and Bosún trotted away from her and jumped gracefully onto her bed.
Aislinn's footsteps were soft on the cold stone, and she lit a lamp near the couch quickly just as another, louder knock sounded on the door again. "I'm comin' for the love o' God!" she shouted, irate. Hand on the knob, she twisted and pulled the door open. A sneer twisted on her face. "You. Get out, get away, never come back. Better yet, kill yeerself." She made to shut the door, but Snape's well placed foot stopped her from doing so.
"Miss O'Flannery, if you'd please, I'd like to speak to you alone and in a different location, rather than standing at your door."
"I don't think so, Severus. Ye betrayed me once, what means ye won't do it again?"
She heard him sigh. "I could give you my word, but you wouldn't take it. Suffice it to say, I am feeling increasingly guilty about my conduct with each passing day."
Aislinn stepped away from the door, allowing her enemy to enter safely, despite her desire to put a rather long knife between his ribs. He sat on the couch by the cold fireplace without her bidding or invitation. I wouldn't have offered him a place to sit anyway, thought Aislinn angrily. The very fact he was here irritated her to the bone.
"So ye've finally decided t' come clean and apologize," Aislinn muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "About fucking time." That was directed at Severus, and she noticed his eyes narrowed in obvious anger. "Oh, stop with th' eyes, you bastard. Ye deserve every moment of this."
Snape lowered his head. "Perhaps I do, Miss O'Flannery, but I would prefer if you would refrain from berating me until I've had my say. I understand that what I did to you was very wrong. I regret it to no end, but I also realize that what was done was done. There is no way to go back and undo it, so to speak. Instead, we both must learn to accept it and move on. I propose-"
"It's easy for you t' say!" Aislinn spun from her frantic pacing and glared at him. "You weren't th' one on that couch. That was my past, Severus. Are ye happy to know about it now? Are ye finally satisfied? Or do I have to bend over backwards t' accommodate you again? What do you want t' know? Shall I tell ye about every man I've ever fucked, or do ye want to know what it felt like t' be raped over and over?" Her anger finally exploded, and she lunged forward, wrapping her two thin hands around Snape's throat. "Filthy bastard, I could kill ye now." She saw the fear in his eyes and she tightened her grip. She could do it. She would gladly do it. It would feel so nice to watch his face turn blue; watch him struggle for breath. She began to dig her nails into the soft flesh on the sides of his neck, and he grimaced in pain. "Do you see how it feels to bleed?" she whispered to him softly as she bared her teeth in a feral grin. Her hands tightened. He spluttered as she continued to smile. Aislinn knew she was killing him, but she didn't care.
Suddenly there was an explosion of stars in her eyes as his fist came up, smacking her under the jaw. She felt herself falling to the floor and raised her spinning head to look at him, pushing himself to his feet. His wand was aimed squarely at her face. "Direct threat," he growled.
"Ní fhéadfadh aon duine ach tusa a bheith chomh amaideach!" Aislinn screamed at him from her place on the floor. It then occurred to her that her wand was almost all the way across the room. There was no way to perform her wandless magic without Snape noticing. She was totally defenseless. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath.
Severus lowered his wand. "This hasn't turned out at all like I expected. It seems that once again our tempers have led us into direct conflict." He held out a hand as if to help her up. Aislinn glared at it for the time being and turned her head, refusing any aid at all. Instead she pushed herself onto unsteady feet and stalked over to the mirror. She raised her head, examining the angry, forming bruise under her chin. "Good shot, filthy bastard," she muttered, applying pressure and wincing. "A damn good punch." She turned to face her enemy. A bright red weal ringed his throat. She wanted to smile upon seeing it, but held back her merriment.
"Well, now yee're here. Get it over with an' leave. After this, I never want t' speak t' ye again." She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. "Go on."
Instead, Severus sat back down on the couch. He seemed in shock. "Miss O'Flannery, you could have killed me."
"And if ye hadn't of hit me, I damn well would have."
He sat back for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in. She thought she heard him whisper something, but decided to overlook it. "About that apology, Severus."
"I figured the threat on my life should be enough for you," he spat. There was pure anger in his eyes, but something else as well. Something almost like desire.
Aislinn raised herself to her full height. "Ye figured wrong. Ba shuarach an cleas é, Severus. It. Was. A. Cheap. Trick." Every word was carefully enunciated and stressed.
He said nothing. Instead he looked into her eyes, his cold black stare matching her icy green one. "You really do hate me, don't you, Miss O'Flannery?" he asked. She nodded. He sighed. Then he did something very strange.
Aislinn watched with raised eyebrows as he unbuttoned the left sleeve of his shirt and rolled it up. Slowly, Aislinn began to see something on the soft white skin of his forearm. She originally thought it was a tattoo, but soon the livid Dark Mark was entirely visible.
She gasped. "And all this time…" Her voice trailed off. "And ye thought… I never knew… Father… Voldemort…" She paused, her breath coming in surprised gasps. Her eyes met his. "I was misled. That is how you managed to worm your way into his circle." She felt angry and betrayed. "Ye lied t' me by omission, Severus. And ye had the nerve to suspect me, when, Christ, ye should have known." There were tears in her eyes that she blinked back. So much had been revealed in the one moment, with that one gesture. So much of his mystery and suspicion was made clear. "You ass. You pompous, self-absorbed ass. Get out. GET OUT!" Her finger, now pointed at the door, was trembling with rage. "Leave. It was people like you who did what was done to me." More tears chased down. There was a burning in her throat. "Why are you still here? Get out of my sight, now!" The shock was replaced with anger now, but as she met his eyes there was something new there.
The tears she had so recently chased down were now spilling down Severus' cheeks. She stared at him in open confusion, scarcely believing that the once-incensed man was now crying. "A-are you angry?" she asked timidly.
Snape did not reply. Instead he covered his eyes with a hand in shame. Aislinn continued to stand in the center of the room, lost and confused. She watched him in his silence, trying to figure out what to do. She had never been in a situation such as this before. "Severus?" she asked gently. His shoulders shook with noiseless sobs, the tears now trailing between his fingers and dropping onto the floor. He looked so defenseless; it stirred something in Aislinn. She moved towards him slowly and sat next to him on the couch. "Severus," she cooed, gently pulling his hand from his face. His eyes were filled with disgrace.
"I'm-I'm sorry, Miss O'Flannery," he muttered as he rose to go.
Aislinn caught his wrist, pulling him back onto the couch. "What happened to you?" she asked.
Snape looked away from her. "I was young. I was stupid, but I can blame it upon no one but myself." He took a shuddering breath. "It ruined my life."
"How old were you, Severus?" Aislinn asked, running her index finger down his damp cheek.
"Sixteen. Only sixteen." He raised his eyes to meet hers. She could see they were filled with pain and self-loathing. "Miss O'Flannery, you don't deserve to have the acquaintance of someone such as myself."
Aislinn held a finger to his lips. "Hush."
"You don't understand. Your memories, your hate, I understood. I did those things. I've raped, I've murdered. I would torture children just to see the fear in their eyes." There was such revulsion in his eyes. "I slit their throats to see them bleed!" he cried, sobbing.
Aislinn cradled his head against her breasts, rocking back and forth like a mother with her young child. "Cry your tears, Severus," she whispered, stroking his hair. His shoulders heaved with his sobs and he moaned sadly into her bosom. She could feel the wetness of his tears, but finally he seemed human. He was no longer an enigma; he was a man. A man with shame, a man with pain, a man with horrors in his past equal to hers. She resisted the urge to finger the scars on her back, and instead held his body close to hers, murmuring nonsense phrases as one would do to a small child.
"She was twelve. Only twelve," he sobbed into her shirt. "I raped her. I tortured her. I killed her. And then I laughed. I fucking laughed, Miss O'Flannery!"
"Fuist, darlin.'" Aislinn was horrified, but she kept her mouth shut. He was no different than her father. Liar, she thought. At least this man was remorseful. At least he could cry; he could realize that he had done wrong. "Fuist." She held him tighter and trailed her hand down his spine. His body no longer trembled with emotion; in fact he was rather still. "Severus?" Aislinn whispered, clearing a strand of hair back from his face.
She felt him take a deep breath, and released her grip on him. He straightened and looked at her warily. "Miss O'Flannery I'd like to apologize for my behavior the previous weeks." She noticed his face was reddened with obvious embarrassment. His cheeks were still wet with tears and his eyes were red-rimmed. Overall he looked completely pitiful. Aislinn had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
"Severus, there is nothing t' apologize f'r. If ye like, I can forget this ever happened."
He shook his head. "I don't ask that you forget it. Just that you realize I am truly sorry for what I have put you – and myself - through. I hope I don't have to humble myself like this again." He attempted to look serious, but his sniffle at the end of the sentence made Aislinn smile.
"You look laughable, Severus." He had no response. He merely sat there, his eyes averted from his once-enemy's face. Aislinn sighed. "We all have tears. We both have horrible memories. Sometimes we must put pride to the side and just let ourselves cry."
Snape nodded, and then looked at her. "Let ourselves cry," he muttered, and then his lips bent into a smile. It was small, and a bit rueful, but a smile nonetheless.
This was the first time Aislinn had ever seen him smile, and mean it. Of course there were the condescending smirks, but this was entirely different. She smiled back, the same small grin he was currently giving her. She reached up and wiped a tear off of his cheek, and he grabbed her hand.
"I'm sorry, Miss O'Flannery," he said again so softly Aislinn could barely hear him.
"I guess I have to forgive ye now, since ye've bared your soul t' me," she muttered. He was still holding her hand. It felt odd to have him touch her in a way that wasn't malevolent. After the punches and the insults, such an innocent gesture felt strange.
Snape looked around. "Do you have any liquor, Miss?"
Aislinn raised an eyebrow. "F'r what cause? Ye don't need any at the moment, and anyway, I have none." She grinned at Snape's sigh. "I can smell brandy on your breath, anyway."
"Can you, Miss O'Flannery?" Snape asked, smirking. "I'm surprised you can recognize it as brandy."
She shrugged. "What can I say? I drink like the rest of 'em. I've come t' believe ye have to when you're in this line o' business." Aislinn leaned in closer, sniffing. "Yes, it's definitely brandy." She looked up at him, and for the first time realized how beautiful his eyes were. They could be cruel and hard, but at the moment they were unguarded. She could see herself reflected in them.
"What are you looking at, Miss O'Flannery?" he asked.
"Your eyes. I've never really noticed what they look like up close, since the only times I've seen them they've been filled wi' loathing."
Snape leaned in as well. "What are they filled with now, Miss?" he asked lowly, his voice a velvet purr.
"Desire."
Snape smirked. "Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps not."
Aislinn wanted to separate herself from the situation, but at the same time she dared to continue. His tears had revealed another side of him she had never thought existed. She had realized that under the callousness and the cynicism there was a very insecure man, a man with a past very much like hers. That endeared him to her, whether he knew it or not.
"What are you thinking about now, Miss O'Flannery? You're face tells me you're somewhere else." God, that voice. It was deep and sultry without intending to be so. It sent shivers down her spine.
"Just you, really. About how we're alike, even if ye don't want to admit it, we're damn similar. That, and your voice," she added under her breath, hoping he wouldn't hear.
Obviously, he did. He smiled his tiny, knowing smile again and touched her cheek. "My voice, Miss O'Flannery?" was the last thing he said before he pulled her to him.
Aislinn's eyes closed on reflex, but her senses were swimming. When did this happen? Just an hour ago she had hated him with all her being, and now she was kissing him on her couch. It felt strange to be so close to him, so incredibly close to each other, but at the same time his lips felt good. Fuck analyzing, she thought and kissed him back.
She relaxed into it, putting one hand on the back of his neck and biting his bottom lip gently. She took the initiative and slipped her tongue in between his teeth, but he pulled away. Aislinn opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his eyes confused.
"A-Aislinn?" he asked.
"Severus," she answered, leaning forward.
He stood, backing away slowly. "I-I think I should be going now. I've made my apology. Goodnight, Miss O'Flannery." He turned on his heel and opened her door, turning back to look at her for a split-second before stepping out in the hallway.
When the door closed Aislinn slapped a hand over her eyes. I just kissed Severus Snape. "Well fuck," she said through gritted teeth as her head swum. I just kissed Severus Snape and likedit.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered around a table in the library, doing some last minute research for their Potions homework. Snape had been particularly brutal this year, assigning more than Harry thought was humanly possible to accomplish. Most nights he was up until four trying to get all of it done. He had not told his friends about Aislinn's betrayal, or Snape's part in it. He figured that should be kept to himself. However, it only made him loathe the man more. That he could do that to someone so kind as O'Flannery was appalling. He was a Death Eater, Harry, and might still be, a nagging voice in his head reminded him. The man was a monster. That's all there was to it.
"So how did your detention last night go, mate?" asked Ron, quirking an eyebrow at Harry's detached expression.
Suddenly, Harry realized he hadn't told either of his companions about his triumph at Occlumency last night. The force of his professor's intrusion and the effort of fighting it off had won him over; he had collapsed into bed as soon as he returned to his chamber. "You'll never believe it, but I did it."
"Did what?" asked Hermione, her nose buried deep into a book.
Harry smiled. "I did it. I successfully pushed her out of my head. I managed to do Occlumency for the first time."
Hermione's head shot up. "Harry, that's wonderful! Obviously it's easier to practice with Professor O'Flannery then."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. I mean, she's not any easier on me than Snape was, but she's a hell of a lot nicer. Oh, and Hermione, she has a cat like yours."
"Really?" Hermione asked, almost a squeal. Her cat, Crookshanks, was her pride and joy.
Harry nodded. "It's an orange tabby, but with short hair and three legs."
"Three legs?" Ron laughed. "It only has three legs?"
"Yeah, but it gets around okay. Its name is Bosún, which means 'mistake.'"
Hermione smiled at Harry from across the table. "You're just learning all kinds of things. Is that a Gaelic word?"
"I would think so. She probably grew up speaking it. I wonder if she and Seamus ever got over their differences. They would be perfect candidates to talk about whatever in that crazy sounding language." Harry paused. "I wonder if she misses Ireland."
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, mate, but I do know if I read another word I'm going to die. Let's go raid the kitchens."
"I want to see the kitty," Hermione muttered, sounding very much like the schoolgirl she was.
"We don't know where her rooms are, Hermione. Maybe she's still in her classroom. It's only five."
Hermione stood and closed the book. "I'm going to check. We need to thank her anyway for not spilling the beans about London."
Harry and Ron stood ruefully, lamenting the fact that they were choosing a teacher over food.
"Shut up, you two, dinner is only in an hour and a half," Hermione snapped, tucking the book under her arm and pushing in her chair. "Let's go."
The hallways were cold, and the three students pulled their robes tighter against them. From time to time they heard occasional laughter or shouting down the corridors, but overall there was relative silence in the castle. Most students were probably in their common rooms or outside, despite the winter chill hanging in the air.
As they reached Aislinn's classroom, the stopped talking. Instead, Hermione knocked on the doorframe. "Professor O'Flannery?" she called out.
"What?" came an answering cry from the office. "Can I help you with something?" It seemed she had adopted the false accent again that she used in classes and with colleagues.
"It's Hermione, Harry, and Ron, Professor. We came to ask you a question."
The office door opened and Aislinn stood framed by sunlight, her jacket over an arm. She looked intimidating at her full height, tattoos glaringly evident on her pale skin. A few strands of hair had escaped her ponytail and fell to her shoulders. "Oh. It's you," was all she said and crooked a finger, beckoning the three students in.
Hermione led the way into her office, where Aislinn was bolting a window shut. "Forgive me if it's cold in here. I like th' way a chill feels on me skin." The edges of her mouth curled into a smile. "Sit down." With a wave of her wand she conjured two more chairs. "Get comfortable. No use in standin' about like a bunch o' statues."
Harry's eyes were drawn to those intricate bands of ink ringing her upper arms. "Did they hurt?" he asked softly, peering over the edges of his glasses.
Aislinn merely shook her head. "The pain becomes dull after a while. It's tolerable. The one on th' finger hurt much worse." Then, she pulled the jacket on again, covering the tattoos. "I feel they shouldn't be shown during class. I love 'em though." She knit her brows together as if thinking. "I believe there's some type of catharsis in submitting yourself t' the buzz and sting o' th' needle, in paying someone t' hurt ye." She sighed. "An' ye came here t' ask me what?"
All eyes turned to Hermione. Harry saw her swallow visibly. "I-I wanted to ask if I could possibly see your cat." The words rushed from her mouth and she blushed visibly.
In response, Aislinn threw back her head and laughed. "Your sense of propriety makes me laugh, child. Wipe the color off your cheeks and come wi' me." She stood, holding the office door as the three children filed out, somewhat taken aback at her openness to allow them into her chambers. They watched her as she turned, setting wards on her office by snapping her fingers and mumbling something in the strange sounding language.
"All right, follow." Their professor crooked a finger. "I'm afraid ye might find that, despite your hesitation, me rooms are not spectacular. There's no hidden bar, secret passages, or anything else. I just don't have t' share mine." By that time they were walking down a hallway near the classroom lined with doors. "Most o' these are just storage, although there are a few others that live on th' hall wi' me."
As if on cue, a door opened, and Professor Sinistra stepped out. He took one look at Aislinn and her following companions and raised an eyebrow.
"Zey've been bad, Professor. I am taking zem back to my secret dungeon to torture zem," Aislinn joked in a thick German accent.
Sinistra shook his head. "Miss O'Flannery, in all the years I have known you, you never cease to amaze me with the things you do. Do you remember when you were a fourth year and that little prank you decided to play on Minerva?" he asked with a smile on his face.
Harry saw Aislinn's eyes go wide. "What did you do?" he asked. He knew the Marauders to play pranks, but he had never considered O'Flannery might have been a troublemaker as well.
Aislinn got over her surprise and laughed. "I still think she has it out t' get me, Nigel. No one could easily forget itchin' powder in yer drawers."
Hermione stifled a chuckle. "You-you did that? To a teacher?"
Aislinn nodded. "I was a right little shite. I'll see you, Sinistra." She waved and continued walking. "Honestly, Miss Granger, I had t' get me fun somewhere."
Something was stewing in Harry's mind. "Professor, I have to ask, did you ever know my father?"
In front of him, Professor O'Flannery shook her head. "I had seen him around. By the time 'e was a seventh year, I had just started school. I'm significantly younger than your father would be, Harry. I knew Sirius a little better."
Sirius' name caused Harry to stumble somewhat. Although his godfather's death always dwelled at the back of his mind, her admission brought back the pain and bitter taste of denial to Harry's mouth. "Ho-how long did you know him?" Harry asked quietly.
Aislinn stopped at a door, snapping her fingers again and this time saying something in Latin. The door unlocked, and their professor turned the knob. "Harry, I never knew him well. I only met 'im through Lupin, who if ye haven't figured it out, is a damn good friend o' mine. Sirius Black came a few shows, bought me a few drinks, and we shared a few laughs." A pause. "I'm sorry I can't help ye with more. That's it. That's the end." She hung her head, but then pushed the door inward. "Go."
As Harry walked in, the first thing he noticed were two big yellow eyes staring at them from a corner. Suddenly, Aislinn yanked the blinds up and the owner of the eyes was revealed. A fierce looking golden eagle peered around the room and clacked his beak. He heard Aislinn say something to him, and the she opened the window. The bird flew out into the cold air, his wings flapping furiously as he soared away.
"The bird gets hungry often. I'm afraid one day he'll end up fat an' lazy." As if she noticed the questions in their eyes, she continued to speak. "I didn't want an owl, so a friend sent me a fuzzy little golden eagle from th' States. He's a wonder, although he looks summat fierce."
Her room was almost spotlessly clean except for the telltale ashes in the fireplace. Her bed was massive and hung with a blood-red drapery. A desk placed underneath a window was strewn with papers and pens and a violin case lay on the chair. His eyes, however, were drawn to the guitars in the corner, one acoustic and one electric. They both looked well used and well loved, which he had no doubt they were both.
Hermione's sudden squeal cut through the air. "He does only have three legs!"
Harry rolled his eyes and walked to Aislinn's bed, where Ron and Hermione were standing, admiring the cat. Its eyes were glaring suspiciously, and his fur was on end.
"Bosún." That was Aislinn's voice, both condescending and threatening. The cat's fur settled, and he even settled onto his haunches with a look of smug annoyance. "Ye just got to know how t' talk to him. He's friendly enough, if a little protective."
Hermione tenuously reached out her hand, brushing the tip of his ear. The cat sniffed her hand suspiciously, and then licked her fingers. As Hermione scratched his head she began to mumble nonsense baby phrases to the cat as it moved closer to her. "I love you, wickle kitty kitty. I want to pet you forever baby kitty friend," she said, cooing at it.
"It's disgusting," Ron whispered to Harry. "She reminds me of my mother when she does that. Besides, I'm getting kind of hungry."
Harry checked his watch. "Uh, Hermione, it's close to dinner time. We can come back and see the kitty later."
Hermione sighed. "Okay. To dinner, then." She turned to Aislinn. "Thank you very much for letting us see the cat."
Aislinn nodded once. "It's no problem. You're welcome any time. Harry, remember, tonight at nine. More practice." She winked and turned back to window, seemingly lost in thought. Harry thought he heard her sigh.
In the hallway, Hermione led the way, talking non stop about how cute the cat was and how it's face was perfect and it's little leg stump was the most adorable thing she had ever seen, because it was furry. Ron merely rolled his eyes at Harry and continued walking.
Harry, however, was thinking about Sirius. How had Aislinn seen him? What was behind that veil? And, if in death you retained your memory, did Sirius ever think about him? Harry shook his head, his thoughts taking him elsewhere, to a sky filled with stars.