Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all his friends (and enemies) are the brain-child of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them. Exclusive ownership belongs to JKR, Arthur A. Levine Books and Scholastic Inc. Jane Sinclair and all additional characters belong to me. You belong to yourself.


I'm going to take you to

My special place

It's a place that you

Like no one else I know

Might appreciate

I don't go there with anyone--but

You're a special case

My Special Place, Joni Mitchell

Chapter Five – Windows of the Soul, Part I

where Severus learns more about Jane than he is ready for…

Halloween came and passed. It was the middle of November, and winter was fast approaching. Not a day went by when the north wind didn't howl menacingly around the austere walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The scent of snow was in the air.

Jane wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as she made her way across the school grounds. In the distance, she could make out a feeble circle of light.

"'oi, who goes there?"

"It's me, Hagrid, Jane Sinclair," she called out into the night.

Hogwarts' gamekeeper approached, holding a bull's-eye lantern high, so he could make out her face. He gave a satisfied nod when he recognized her.

"Oh, 'ello, Professor," he boomed down at her. "What are you doing out here so late?"

The wind picked up and Jane shivered underneath her cloak.

"I'm…just out for a walk," she mumbled.

Hagrid studied her for a moment and shrugged. He had no reason to doubt her. Jane hated to deceive him, but she knew he wasn't aware of her lessons with Severus. She wasn't even sure whether he had recognized her. He certainly hadn't shown any signs of knowing her when McGonagall had introduced her to him at the beginning of term.

"Well," he said jovially, apparently impervious to the cold and her discomfort. "So, how are you gettin' along then? Everybody treating ye alright?"

"Sure, Hagrid," she said miserably. Her teeth began to chatter.

"Ye haven't been to see me, yet, professor," he told her glumly. "Ye said you wanted to see me thestrals."

The freezing wind on her face made her eyes water. "I'm sorry, Hagrid," Jane murmured.

The gentle giant mistook her reaction. He patted her clumsily on the shoulder. "No need to cry, now," he comforted her awkwardly. "I know ye've been busy, getting' back into the swing of things and all that. Jus' come by some time and we'll have some tea."

Jane nodded jerkily. "Sure, Hagrid."

"Right, then." He sighed. "Well, I better be off now. Don't stay out too late now, professor."

"I won't," she called after him as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of sight, she picked up her robes and sprinted to the Whomping Willow. Jane was running late and she didn't feel like sitting through another of Severus' rants about the importance of punctuality. She wasn't particularly looking forward to tonight's lesson, anyway. When Remus had told her that Severus was an accomplished master of Legilimency and Occlumency, Jane hadn't been surprised. Without such talents, Severus wouldn't have been able to survive for so many years, spying for the Order. And that worried her. After her dream, it had taken her weeks to feel comfortable in his presence again. She hadn't been able to look at him, afraid he would guess the truth. For weeks she'd been tongue-tied and unable to concentrate on her assignments while he watched her attentively. That one dream had reduced her to the hare-brained ninny he thought her to be. No, she really didn't feel like talking with him about exploring the mind.

Minutes later, Jane, chilled to the bone, hurried into Snape's den and rushed immediately to the fireplace. She thrust her fingers dangerously close to the fire and didn't remove them until she felt the circulation return to her digits.

"You are late, Jane," Severus greeted her coldly from the other side of the room.

Startled, she whirled around to face him. "I… I'm sorry. I ran into Hagrid."

"Pray, do tell."

"It doesn't concern you." She didn't care for his mocking tone.

"Oh, but it does, Jane," he contradicted her dryly, "particularly, when it causes my student to be late for her lesson."

His voice sent shivers through her body. Ever since her dream she'd become aware of his voice. Of its low sensual timbre, which she, like so many, had mistaken for a monotonous drone. But when he spoke now, the subtle nuances in tone were caressing her like luxurious silk. She involuntarily shivered and Severus noticed it.

He rose quickly and swept through the room. He came to stand in front her and studied her closely. She felt his eyes roam over her face, taking in her watery eyes, frost-nipped pink cheeks, and pale lips. His dark eyes widened in indignation.

"That oaf!" he exclaimed suddenly. Severus grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards the fire. "I'll have his head for keeping you out in the cold for so long!"

Jane's mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Severus felt protective towards her? Impossible. She frowned, thinking furiously. Of course, she finally rationalized. He feared for the ramifications it would have for him, should anything happen to her. She didn't like the sound of that and, oddly, that annoyed her. She stepped out of his grasp.

"Please don't be upset, Severus," she tried to diffuse the situation. "I decided to stop and talk to him. After all, we can't have him growing suspicious."

"No, I guess not," he agreed, studying her thoughtfully. He waved a wand and a glass appeared in front of her.

"Drink this," he ordered her.

Jane took the glass with trembling hands and peered inside. She sniffed cautiously. It smelled rather nicely. She fixed Severus with a suspicious gaze. If he tried to get her drunk, or – perish the thought! – slip her something, he'd have another thing coming.

As though he'd guessed her thoughts, he scowled darkly and snapped at her.

"Oh, for the love of… just drink it."

She eyed the amber liquid once more and took a careful sip. Instant warmth hit her as the firewhiskey trickled down her throat. She sighed contently as the heat began to suffuse her body and she downed the remaining liquid in one gulp.

"Mmm…" She sighed once more. "Just what the doctor ordered."

"Excuse me?"

She noticed his confusion at the unfamiliar term and smiled. "It's a Muggle expression," she informed him. "It means that something is the perfect remedy for a condition or solution for a problem."

"I see."

Jane shrugged out of her cloak. "Alright," she announced. "I'm warm now."

Severus nodded towards one of the two armchairs, which had been placed to face each other. He waited until she was seated before he sat down in his usual swift manner. He stretched his arms to adjust his robes and leaned slightly forward.

"Now, then," he asked her, "have you prepared for tonight's lesson?"

Jane nodded. "I've read the books you suggested."

"Good. Then you can tell me the difference between Legilimency and Occlumency."

"Legilimency," Jane began to recite dutifully, "is the ability to enter another person's mind and extract their memories… and feelings. Occlumency, on the other hand, is the ability to ward off any attempts of Legilimency. To prevent a person from entering one's mind."

"Those are the definitions, yes. But there is much more to know, Jane. Legilimency, in the wrong hands, can be a dangerous ability – a weapon, if you wish. During a confrontation, an accomplished Legilimens can enter the opponent's mind and use what can be seen there to his advantage. Occlumency is the only way to counter such an invasion of the mind."

Jane frowned. Hadn't she just told him exactly the same thing?

"It takes many years of intense training to become an accomplished Legilimens, Jane," he continued, oblivious to her scowl. "Occlumency, on the other hand depends more on the strength of the mind and one's ability to control one's thoughts. Chaos maybe one way to counter and confuse a Legilimens, but it usually results only in a more forceful follow-up attack."

She could appreciate that. Confusion isn't an effective long-term offensive.

"Good, I see you follow."

It wasn't exactly brain surgery, Jane thought grimly. Patience wasn't Severus' strong side. Beneath that cool indifferent demeanor was a very impatient man with an explosive temper. But when he did force himself to be patient, he would talk down to her as though she was a three-year old.

"Now," he said, pulling his wand from his robes. "I shall attempt to enter your mind."

"What?" she squeaked alarmed. "You never said anything about that."

His mouth twisted wryly. "Unfortunately, theory and practice must go hand in hand for true understanding to develop."

Jane paled.

"Once you will feel my presence," Severus continued, ignoring her distress, "I want you to erect a mental wall. Just like you fight off the Imperius Curse, you must force me out of your mind, Jane. Use whatever means you think necessary to ward off my assault. I will not leave, until I sense your response. Do you understand that?"

It all sounded even worse than what she'd imagined. "I think so, Severus. Um…" She swallowed and nervously licked her lips. "What will you be able to see?"

His lips pulled into a sardonic smile. "Anything your mind chooses to show me."

"I don't think I very much care for that," she told him quietly, hoping beyond hope that he would abandon the idea.

More than anything, she feared what he might see once he delved into her mind. For thirteen years, she had held on to her secret. Only few knew of the actual events that had transpired during her sixth year at Hogwarts. She doubted that even McGonagall and the other members of the Order knew the details of her banishment. Each and every one who had been involved in the Wizengamot's inquisition had been subjected to the Unbreakable Vow. Others had had their memories modified.

"No one ever does, Jane," he told her sardonically.

She groaned inwardly and closed her eyes in silent resignation.

"You may use your wand to defend yourself, Jane." It sounded very much like an afterthought.

She pulled out her wand and imitated Severus' gesture. "Okay," she murmured, steeling herself.

"Very well, then. Now, brace yourself. Legilimens!" Black eyes bored into green ones.

Jane thought she would be ready for him, but his assault took her by surprise. She struggled to ward him off, tried to build a wall. His presence, however, was immovable, and she knew that he could see the same images that flashed through her mind.

"Well done!" A portly red-faced elderly man smiled proudly at her. "It took your father much longer to win his first game of chess against me."

Between them sat a chessboard with the ruined figurines of a recent game scattered across it.

No, Jane thought. That was no longer her life. She fought back the memory and found herself back in the Shrieking Shack.

"Well done, Jane." Severus sounded both surprised and pleased. She suppressed a smile. "Let's try it again, shall we? Legilimens!"

Her smile faded.

"My, how you have grown!" The same elderly man smiled kindly at her. "I still remember you – a slip of a girl, no higher than a broomstick – learning how to play chess. And now you're off to Hogwarts. Here…" He handed her a beautifully worked hand-carved wooden box. She opened it with trembling fingers. It contained a full set of exquisitely carved chess figurines. She gave a squeal of delight and threw herself into his welcoming arms.

"Thank you, grandfather!"

"I thought you could use this to play with your friends," he murmured into her ear.

No, Jane thought again. She didn't want to remember. She struggled to stop the memories, to close her mind. To no avail. Severus delved deeper, too powerful to be refused. The scene shifted.

Large carved wood doors swung open, and she was herded, along with other first years, towards the dais at the other end of the Great Hall. She felt dwarfed by the intimidating grandeur that surrounded her. Countless stares were fixed on her and the other first years, and her nervousness only subsided, once she was sorted into Ravenclaw House and took her seat at the house table.

The scene began to shift again. The images chased each other in rapid succession now – her first ride on a broom, her first successfully cast spell, her first trip to Hogsmeade, her first kiss… Suddenly, one memory took precedence over the others.

"You are punctual, Miss Fenton," a man's voice addressed her from the corner of the room. "It is a welcome change from your classmates' usual tardiness."

She stepped across the threshold and the door slammed shut behind her with an ominous thud. She swirled around, but the way was shut. "Professor Beadle?"

"No need to worry," the man said again, rising. He was a young wizard, barely thirty, handsome in a conventional sort of way. He had a blond mop of hair and friendly blue eyes. His face was clean-cut and his lips full. His attire was the latest fashion. "If we want your detention to pass as quickly as possible, we cannot have any interruptions."

She nodded, still slightly disconcerted. This was her first detention and she wasn't sure what to do. She was a good student. She had a perfect attendance record. She'd never been in any kind of trouble.

NO! Jane shook her head. No more. She used all of her strength to tear herself from the memory, knowing what would come next. The scene before her dissolved slowly. She could feel Severus' presence gradually recede from her mind and she pushed harder. All of a sudden, he left her mind and she could breathe easier. When her vision cleared, she found Severus studying her closely. Unconcealed curiosity flashed in his eyes.

"You took too long," he chided her. "If this had been a real attack, your enemy would have retrieved all your knowledge."

Jane snorted. It had felt real enough. He had probed deeply into her mind and dug up memories she had spent thirteen years to suppress.

"Let's try again, Jane. And, please, show a little more effort this time."

Jane tried to clear her mind, wipe it clean. She didn't want him to invade her thoughts again. She didn't want him to see.

"Legilimens!"

This time, again, she was helpless against his assault. He penetrated her mind with such force and determination, it broke down all the barriers she had ever erected to protect herself. Severus forced himself relentlessly into her mind, intent on invading her very soul. He would not be denied.

"Step closer, Miss Fenton," Professor Beadle invited her.

She approached hesitantly until she reached her desk. Unsure what to do next, she put down her satchel and looked expectantly at her Dark Arts teacher.

Professor Beadle leaned against his desk. "You know, of course, why I gave you detention?"

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. She was ashamed of what had happened in class earlier. No doubt her parents had learned of it by now and were properly mortified at her undignified behavior.

"You hexed a fellow student so badly, he had to be taken to the hospital."

She nodded again, remembering clearly.

"This, in itself, could be overlooked, considering that we were practicing hexes and counter-jinxes in class. You, however, chose to employ a hex, which, in all fairness, is beyond the scope of this class."

"I'm sorry, Professor Beadle. I didn't think it would matter how I defended myself."

"You are a bright young witch. A very clever one, indeed. I assume you were studying some of the advanced spell books in the library?"

She nodded. "I also practiced secretly."

"Did you now?" Professor Beadle cocked an eyebrow, his curiosity awakened.

"Yes, Sir. I didn't go home for the holidays and it seemed like a good way to occupy my time."

"I see." He suddenly got up and gestured for her to come closer. "Let's see, then, what you taught yourself."

He pulled out his wand and lazily waved it through the air. Several of the desks moved towards the wall, leaving a space in the center of the room.

"Come on, Miss Fenton. Don't be shy now," he encouraged her.

She inched closer and also pulled out her wand.

"Right, then." Professor Beadle took his dueling position and she imitated his stance. "Give me the best you have."

She stared at him for a moment, then concentrated and hexed him with a nonverbal spell. Her eyes grew round when she saw her Dark Arts teacher being propelled through the air and crash heavily onto a desk. He slid off stiffly and limped painfully towards her.

"That," he grimaced, "was well done, Miss Fenton. Well done, indeed. Again."

They dueled back and forth, and it soon became clear that the student had surpassed her teacher. The professor's easy smile quickly disappeared and was replaced by an expression of grim determination.

"There is no doubt. You have vastly improved, Miss Fenton," he complemented her through clenched teeth.

Her gaze fell upon the clock above his desk. "I better go now, Professor. My detention was over fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh no, my dear," he told her coldly. "We will finish this. I will not have you make a fool of me."

"But I never…"

"Oh no? You are a sixth year, Miss Fenton. It is inconceivable that you should best me. It took me years to hone these same abilities, which you seem to master so easily."

"Professor…"

"Silence!" Gone was the amiable Dark Arts teacher his students adored. The friendly man, who went out of his way to make sure all his students progressed well and took the time to listen to their problems. In his place was a man teetering on the edge of self-control. His face was distorted into a mask of utter dislike.

Fear grabbed her. She stared at him in horror, unsure what his next action would be. A dangerous crazy glint crept into his eyes, and she began to tremble. She had a bad feeling about this, and the punishment for attacking a teacher was most severe. Nonetheless, she slowly raised her wand.

"Expelliarmus," he screamed wildly, thrusting her backward with the force of his spell.

Truly frightened now, she raised her wand and retaliated. Beadle was thrown off his feet and crumbled into a pitiful heap. When he didn't move, she went to him, worried that she might have done him serious harm. However, as soon as she reached him, his arm shot out and grabbed her leg. She gave a startled scream, when he dragged her to the floor and wrestled her wand out of her hand. He straddled her, caught her hands in one of his and stretched them high above her head. With his other hand, he pointed his wand at her face.

"It seems," he panted harshly, "you are not as clever as you think you are. Never, Miss Fenton, approach a fallen enemy, unless you know for certain that he is dead."

She struggled beneath him, trying to break free. "Let me go."

"Oh no, Miss Fenton," he growled. "You stay put. I finally have you where you can no longer cause me bodily harm."

"Please let me go," she pleaded helplessly.

He stared down at her, obviously enjoying her distress. A nasty look of superiority fell over his face, and before she could guess his intent, he bent down and kissed her hard on the mouth.

"Professor," she sobbed frightened.

Her distress, however, only seemed to provoke him more.

"Now," he told her callously, "you shall see what happens to those who dare slight me."

He tugged away his wand and moved his hand to her thigh.

"No," she cried and bucked, but his weight kept her firmly in place.

"Oh, yes," he hissed and brutally yanked up her skirt.

Suddenly, he let go of her hands and grabbed her chin. His crazed eyes bored into her panicked ones.

"Prepare to be taught a very important lesson, Miss Fenton."

Beadle kissed her again, crushing her lips painfully against her teeth. He bit her lower lip and smiled triumphantly when she gave a groan of pain. "Pace yourself, Miss Fenton," he murmured against her lips, "there is still more to come."

Completely immobilized by his bulk, she was forced to endure his weight as he cruelly pushed her thighs apart and moved between her legs. Beadle felt his way roughly to the junction between her legs and tore away the thin cotton of her underpants. He groped her viciously, before loosening his trousers to free himself. His lips sought hers, but she jerked her head away, and he slapped her once, hard. Without preamble, he held on to her shoulders as he buried his head against her neck and thrust brutally into her.

Unprepared for his painful invasion, a shocked scream tore from her lips. His ragged breath was hot against her skin as he drove himself repeatedly into her.
She desperately clawed at his body and face, begging him to stop, but Beadle was relentless. The metallic stench of blood filled her nostrils and she cried out again. He continued to push into her ruthlessly, intent on punishing her for humiliating him.

Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes to shut out the painful assault by the man she had admired only an hour ago. His betrayal intensified the pain of his physical attack on her innocence. The tears were streaming freely now, and she struggled valiantly to clear her mind, to lose herself in oblivion. Beadle, however, made sure that she wouldn't slip away. She had thought that there couldn't be any more pain, but he proved her wrong again. He moved faster now, tearing into her, heedless of any damage he caused. Finally, when the pain became too much for her to bear, only one thought remained in her mind. She wanted him to feel the pain as much as she did. Wanted him to feel what it meant to be torn apart, to be raw and bleeding.

He pushed into her with another vicious thrust and a single word tore from her lips in an anguished scream.

"EXSANGUINARE!"

Above her, Beadle stilled, taken off guard. Surprise registered on his face. He frowned slightly, as he looked down at her, trying to figure out what had happened.

A shudder went through his body, and he lifted a hand for closer inspection. "What…?"

Suddenly, his surprise turned to shock. His face contorted painfully, and he pushed himself off her bruised and bleeding body and to his feet. Beadle was still aroused and her blood clung accusingly to his naked skin. He looked down at her with a mixture of pain and anger.

"What did you do to me?" he screamed at her.

She lay on the floor like a broken doll, unable to rise. Her eyes met his.

"I don't know," she sobbed. She was as shocked as he was.

The skin on his face split open in a neat straight line. Blood began to ooze out and trickle down to his chin. Beadle let out a howl of pain. Another cut appeared on his face, and another. Frantic, he tore at his clothes, ripping his shirt off his body. More cuts appeared on his torso. On his arms. His manhood. He howled again.

Her eyes widened in horror, as his body was painfully shredded to pieces right in front of her. Blood flowed freely from his wounds now, and his tortured screams filled the classroom, echoing eerily from the cold gray walls. The last thing she remembered before merciful oblivion claimed her was Beadle collapsing with one last terrible shriek.

"Jane."

The voice was familiar, she thought as she fought her way through the darkness.

"Jane." The voice was more urgent now. "Come back to me."

Her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on the worried face hovering above her. If possible, he looked even paler than usual. "Severus?"

Gradually, her vision cleared and she found herself on the wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack, cradled protectively in Severus' arms.


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