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DamhsaÃ Naofa is DiamhaslaÃ	By : MrsSaruman Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 808 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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He was staring at her back again,
horrified. Several long scars traced
their way from her lower back to her shoulders, and several small ones
crisscrossed her spine like a chain-link fence. Most of it was tattooed over, as if to hide the old wounds. Severus cringed. There was pain there, and anger.
Someone had done that to her…

The scene
faded. Instead of a woman’s back, an
old shield now hung in front of his face.
His own distorted reflection stared back at him, his face twisted
demonically in the silver. It was the
same inscription that he had seen so many times before. Reathaí Meán Oíche
is ea an Bás. What did it
mean? What did all this
mean? Snape rubbed his chin and turned
away from the shield. Where was this
place? He walked to a window, gazing
outside, trying to regain a sense of balance.
The lawn was clipped, and the gardens manicured with care. Obviously it was a wealthy manor of some
kind, but he couldn’t put a finger on the location.

Deep
down inside he knew this as a dream, but for some odd reason he could not wake
up. Everything about it just seemed so,
well, real. He could smell the varnish
used to keep the furniture oiled, as well as the stale scent in the air. It was as if no one had lived here in a
while. That’s impossible, he
told himself, looking around.
Everything was well kept and neat.
There was almost no dust on tabletops, and the hardwood floors were
waxed and shiny.

Snape
thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his
head to catch whatever it was, it was gone.
He shook his head, passing it off as just another anomaly in this
already strange dream. He wanted to
wake up. His dreams in general were
dark and violent; it might look peaceful here now, but there was no doubt someone
would die before it was through. Maybe
if I walk for a while it will disappear, he thought, and began his way
towards what he took to be the kitchen.

It
was indeed the kitchen, and he found Aislinn standing at the stove, stirring a
pot of something. His surprise melted
away almost at once, a feeling that unsettled him. He was supposed to be wary of her, not think of her as a
friend! However, his thoughts changed
abruptly when she turned to face him.
The sockets where her eyes should be were empty and black, and rivulets
of blood ran down her cheeks, looking eerily like sanguine tears. Her neck was slashed across the windpipe and
vocal cords; Severus could see the musculature in the gash.

He
backed away, horrified. She took a step
toward him, reaching out her hands as if wanting to be picked up. “Get away from me!” His voice was dry with fear. He could barely speak.

“Severus. They did this to me. They took my eyes, Severus! My eyes!”
She tripped and fell, busting her chin on the polished wood of the
floor. She raised her body, spitting
out three teeth in a shower of bloody saliva.
“Severus, please.” Blood bubbled
between her lips, and she gagged. Snape
continued to retreat, and Aislinn continued to follow, pleading.

Snape
found himself pinned against a wall. He
flattened himself out as much as possible, praying to a god he didn’t believe
in for some kind of way out. He closed
his eyes in a frightened wince, hoping when he opened them there would be only
darkness. He could feel the tips of
Aislinn’s fingers brushing against his face; they were cold and slimy. Something wet brushed against his cheek,
leaving a sticky feeling and metallic smell.
Then there was only pain as the dagger slid into his heart.

Snape
awoke with a shout, gripping his chest as though he had really been
stabbed. The nightshirt he was wearing
was bathed in sweat, but his body felt cold.
He rubbed his cheek involuntarily.
It was dry. Damn, he
though angrily as he got to his feet and cast the curtains surrounding his bed
aside. The air was cold; his breath
made little foggy patterns in the air as he exhaled. On an impulse he stripped off his nightshirt, running his hands
over his thin chest, searching for a puncture wound. He found nothing, so he slipped the shirt back on. The brandy decanter on the table sparkled
tantalizingly, and Severus happily partook.

The
strong liquor burned the back of his throat, but at least it scalded away the
faint smell of blood that still lingered in his nostrils. He was more confused than afraid, after all
most dreams had some kind of hidden subconscious meaning. It was only natural that Aislinn, the source
of his daily consternation, would appear, but without eyes? And with her throat slashed? He could come up with thousands of possible
ideas, but none seemed to make any sense.
Suddenly, Snape realized what he was doing. He slapped himself on the forehead, cursing. I’m starting to sound like Trelawney,
he thought dejectedly. Another snifter
of brandy went down his throat. This
time it didn’t burn.

He had to
get a confession out of her somehow. As
he thought he unlocked a cabinet door, pulling out a tiny vial and drinking
about half. He chased it down with more
liquor, and then crawled back into bed.
Hopefully the dreamless sleep concoction would work; he couldn’t stand
any more of those horrid dreams. He
could feel sleep tickling at his faculties, and he relaxed against the pillow,
hoping to embrace the one pure thing left to him. Just before he surrendered, a thought occurred to him in one
word: Veritaserum. “That’s
nice,” Severus mumbled, slipping into the darkness of a dreamless night.

Severus
rose before dawn had even touched the sky.
He stretched, shaking his head to chase away the tired cloudiness from
his mind, and tossed back another glass of brandy. The decanter was less than half full; it had been filled to the
brim two days earlier. Severus wrinkled
his nose as he gazed at the jar. I do
not have a drinking problem, he mused to himself. As much as he hated to admit, he had been
drinking more and more lately. It would
have to stop if he wanted to get anything worthwhile done.

He stripped
off his nightshirt in the bathroom, gazing in the mirror at his chest. There was no blood, no wound, nothing that
would intimate at assassination attempts.
But that dream… It was so fresh
in his head. He could still smell the
blood; still feel its wet stickiness.
Aislinn’s mutilated face lurked behind his eyelids. He could still recall the pleading note to
her voice as she begged for help, and he had denied her. I will continue to deny her, he told
himself angrily, scowling at his reflection.
A shower would clear away the dreams from his head, and hopefully steel
him for another day of teaching.

*

He pinned
her against the wall, his mouth searching hers out. They kissed hungrily; their hands pulled at each other’s robes
and clothes, desperately seeking. She
let his hands run over her belly, between her thighs, down her legs. She whimpered softly. She hadn’t felt this way for a man in years,
and her current choice confused her as well as excited her. Their hate fueled their passion. She gasped as he bit her neck, piercing the
skin slightly. “Severus,” she cooed,
straining against him, trembling…

Her eyes
shot open. The sheets were twisted
around her legs; the light of dawn filtered through open windows onto her
yellow silk chemise. Aislinn shivered,
disgusted. How could she have even
dreamed about that? It was
hideous, frightening, Snape was a monster and a fool.

Almost at
the same time she sighed, wishing the dream would go on. Truth was, she was lonely. Lupin had left sometime the previous night,
leaving her almost friendless. His
support though, was invaluable. Snape’s
accusations had cut her, and cut her deep, and his smile was just what she had
needed. However, now he was on his way
to Spain-probably already there-and she was still at Hogwarts with a hateful
Potions master.

She turned
over, burying her head in her pillow.
Something warm brushed up against her ear, and sneezed in her hair. Aislinn sat bolt upright, scowling down at
the cat. “Bo, that’s disgusting,” she
told him. The cat merely stared at her
with placid eyes. She sighed, rubbing
the back of his head. He purred contentedly,
working his claws into her bed sheets. The
cat is a good thing, she thought, smiling.
Yankee Doodle was probably off somewhere hunting, so she couldn’t close
the windows. Fortunately it was not
slated to rain that day, so she could probably leave the windows open all
day.

Aislinn
rose and walked into the bathroom, stripping off her chemise and tossing it
onto the floor. She fingered the
tattoos ringing her arms, and smiled.
They had not hurt. They were
beautiful; two black bands of Celtic knots to give her strength. Not that they would really work. It was merely the premise. The tattoo on her middle finger had hurt much
more, but a little pain had never really bothered her. It was just a part of being an
O’Flannery.

The steam
of the bath chased the memory of sleep from her head, and with it the dream she
had had. The trick is realizing it
is just a dream, thought Aislinn. Nothing
more than images in your mind of a subconscious thought or feeling. But then why had her subconscious tricked
her into kissing Severus Snape? Some
questions were better left unanswered.

Already the
day promised to be a long one, and it was not yet eight o’clock. With a sigh Aislinn realized she would be
late for breakfast, and probably go without one. Classes started at nine, so she had a while to prepare herself
for the daily lesson. Another night of
Occlumency would add to her stress. She
had come to a completely different realization about Harry. She had originally believed he was a
foolish, spoiled child that enjoyed poking his nose where it didn’t belong,
much like Draco. However, she had
learned Harry Potter had lived a life much like hers: scorned by relatives and
abandoned early in life. He, too, had
an abusive sibling.

She hummed
a snatch of a song as she toweled herself off.
Another song had been coming to her in bits. She felt as though she was finally getting her muse back, which
made her smile. At least she was doing
something right. Her hair hung in wet
strands as she looked down at her naked body, running her hands over her
hips. She had always been thin, almost
unhealthily so, but she got all her essential vitamins, so she wasn’t
concerned. If she lost any more weight,
though, something would have to be done about that. She had always intimidated men; whether it was her height or her
attitude wasn’t clear. Remus seemed to
be the only man she connected on a deep personal level with. There was the occasional boyfriend or
platonic relationship, but most men seemed wary whenever they were around
her. Then, there were those who were
just plain nasty. Men like Snape.

She wrapped
her hair in a towel, planning to dry it later.
She began to go through her morning routine of washing and dressing, and
then putting on a bit of makeup to hide tired eyes. Actually, she had been sleeping very well lately. Her dreams had become idyllic, and sometimes
downright licentious. Dreams like those
had not come in a long time. She
half-wondered what they were all about.
Various people, various places, but always the same result. She would wake up shuddering in bed,
confused and elated at the same time.

Aislinn
finished using the towel and hung it up.
With three twists she put her hair up in a tight bun and secured it with
several pins. Her hair had grown; it
was touching her shoulders now. She
made a mental note to make a trip into London on the coming Saturday. Her band mates had replied to her post and
set a date for a practice. Since there
was no way they could possibly come to Hogwarts, she would go to them. She doubted she would even be missed. It would be a chance for her to loosen up
and get out of the teacher’s robes, to get back to life she used to lead.

She had
known each member personally for years.
She had met Rob first when she pushed him down the stairs during her
seventh year at Hogwarts. He had been a
Gryffindor, and thought it was okay to bother Aislinn, the “silent Slytherin,”
as she was called. He had broken both
arms; she had three months of detention.
They had been friends ever since.
Even when she had gone off to live as a Muggle, they stayed in touch,
and he eventually introduced her to Geoff de Villiers, the son of a prominent
French merchant and his English wife.
Geoff had graduated from Beauxbatons, and had met Rob through a mutual
friend.

As it
turned out, the two men had decided to form a band. Rob played the drums; Geoff was skilled with a bass guitar. They had come to Aislinn, asking if she knew
a guitar player who would be interested.
She volunteered immediately. At
first they had been skeptical, but after a practice or two they both accepted
her into the band, which they had named Murdock. That was her humble beginnings in the world of music
stardom. They had gone on to play
Muggle clubs throughout England and France; they even played two nights in
Dublin. As soon as a club opened in
Diagon Alley, they had started performing for a more magical crowd. If the Weird Sisters could do it, so could
they.

Aislinn
eyed her clock dreamily, but started when she realized it was almost nine. “Léan air!” she groaned, and grabbed an
armful of lesson plans and notes before scurrying out the door, barely
remembering to set the wards.

The first
year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were fidgety that morning, and she had to dock
fifteen points from each house because of their lack of attentiveness. She hated doing that, but if it must be
done, then let it be. The sixth year Slytherins
and Gryffindors were better, although not by much. She found herself fervently hoping for lunch. It came and went, and Aislinn continued the
day, doing the best she could do not to throw down her books and quit on the
spot.

*

The day
seemed long to Harry. Potions crawled
by, and even Defense Against the Dark Arts didn’t have the same spark it
normally did. He watched Aislinn out of
the corner of his eye the entire class; she seemed tired, if not downright
gloomy. Her patience seemed to be wearing
thin, and it made Harry wonder what else had happened last night. She did manage to flash a quick smile in his
direction before turning to tell Malfoy off for harassing some other poor
student. At least she was no longer
bitter.

Harry’s
doubt of his professor’s associations had been driven from his mind. Let Seamus think what he would, but Harry
now stood firm in his conviction.
Aislinn O’Flannery had been an abused child and an insecure young adult,
but was now a capable, talented woman.
As odd as it seemed to him, Harry was not at all worried about the
second approaching Occlumency lesson.
In fact, he was ready to give it another try. It was better now that Snape wasn’t teaching him, and Harry was
no longer afraid of hiding his memories from a teacher he hated.

He had
noticed the way Snape glared at her during meals. There was a deep-seated animosity there; one that Harry didn’t
quite understand. Given, Snape didn’t
get along with most teachers, notable McGonagall, but at least he managed to
keep an air of professionalism around them.
With Aislinn, any trace of civility was gone. It was just pure hate and suspicion. He had felt that way before.
Surely he couldn’t believe she was a Death Eater…

A nagging
voice in Harry’s head reminded him that up until last night, he had thought the
same. He chased away the thought
angrily. It’s not that way anymore,
he screamed inwardly.

As Harry
stepped into the Great Hall, his eyes went automatically to where Ron and
Hermione were sitting. They both waved
to him, and his eyes traveled up to the professor’s table. Aislinn was there, chatting happily with
Professor Sprout. Snape was staring in
his clandestine manner. That was
nothing new. Harry waved back to his
friends after a moment, smiling. At
least they were fairly unpredictable.

As he sat
at the table Ron gestured with his head up towards the professor’s table. “What do you think is up with them?” he
asked, obviously meaning Snape and O’Flannery.

“They hate
each other. Isn’t it obvious?” answered
Hermione, grimacing.

Harry
shrugged. “It has something to do about
her family and his, well, his background as a Death Eater, I guess. I’m not really sure,” he lied. He was more than one hundred percent sure,
but after his earlier faux pas, he wasn’t about to make another one.

“Personally,
I think Professor O’Flannery is wonderful,” said Hermione. “I wish you hadn’t antagonized her in class
yesterday. She’s obviously
brilliant. I’ve heard that she speaks
about fifteen languages fluently.”
Hermione shook her head self importantly, and smirked.

Ron slapped
his forehead. “Harry, mate, I forgot
entirely! How was detention last
night?”

Harry
sighed. This was the question he had
been avoiding like the plague. “It went
well, actually. You’ll never guess what
Dumbledore has dragged me into again.”
He waited for a while before continuing. “Occlumency. But it’s not
Snape teaching it, so I feel a little bit better about it.”

Both Ron
and Hermione looked stunned. Ron’s
mouth was hanging open. “So he had
O’Flannery the Death Eater teach you?” he asked.

“Well,
there’s something about that. She’s not
a Death Eater.”

“I told
you,” Hermione said haughtily.
“Dumbledore would never hire a Death Eater. Not after what happened with Quirrel and
Moody.”

Ron looked
skeptical. “People can slip through the
cracks easily, Hermione. Anyway, Harry,
how did you find out?”

Harry shook
his head. “Using the shielding charm we
learned last year on our own. I saw
some things in her head I wish I wouldn’t have seen.”

“Like
what?” asked Ron.

“I’d rather
not tell you, if you don’t mind. It’s a
bit private.”

Ron
chuckled. “Does she want your body or
something?”

“Ron!”
chided Hermione.

Harry
smiled sadly. “No. I just saw what happened to her at the hands
of Death Eaters. It wasn’t pretty,
although it’s left me with more questions than answers.”

Hermione
was nodding her head. Ron just sat
there with a thoughtful look on his face.
“I think she’s wonderful,” mumbled Hermione. “She’s one Defense teacher I wouldn’t want to see leave.”

Harry
agreed completely. His lessons with
O’Flannery might just be an asset worth having.

*

Snape was
waiting in the sitting room of his chambers, pacing nervously. He was about to take a step in deception he
thought he would never resort to using on a coworker. However, he had to be sure about her background, and this way was
almost guaranteed to provide him with answers.
He threw himself down on the couch, fidgeting. He wasn’t quite sure if she would come. She had to be suspicious.
After all, he had been cruel to her up until that night, and his sudden
change in moods would cause almost anyone to second guess his actions.

He had
approached her after dinner, using the pretense of Order business to arrange a
meeting. It would just be him and her,
he had said, stressing the need for absolute secrecy. Dumbledore would be informed after the meeting had taken
place. She had agreed after only a
moment of contemplation, no doubt believing that despite his posturing, that he
was harmless. Well he had something to
show her!

They would
be meeting in his chambers around eight thirty. Snape checked his preparations quickly. One could never be too prepared.
The two cups of coffee were arranged on a table, with cream and sugar
nearby. The veritaserum had already
been added to one cup, the cup intended for Aislinn O’Flannery. He smiled evilly to himself. If it hadn’t been for a sleepless night, he
would have never thought of the idea.
At least something had to be said for insomnia.

A knock on
the door caused him to start. He rose
quickly, and in three steps opened the door to see a placid Aislinn O’Flannery
staring him in the face. He nodded a
hello and beckoned her in. He pushed
the door shut behind her as she settled herself on the couch.

“Severus,”
she began, “I don’t know why you called me here, but I must say I was less than
thrilled in coming.”

“I can
understand. I have been rather terse
with you lately, but I am more than sure you know the reason behind it.”

She
nodded. “I can guess.”

Snape sat,
pressing his fingertips together in a steeple.
“I fear I must address that. I
am, to say the least, a bit suspicious of your family heritage, Miss
O’Flannery, but I might be willing to overlook it if you can somehow prove
you’re not affiliated with Voldemort.”

Aislinn
huffed. “I shouldn’t have to prove
myself to you, Severus Snape.” A quick
look at her face told Snape she was offended, but he wouldn’t let that stop him
now.

“I know
you’re averse. Believe me, I would feel
the same if I were in your position.
However, you absolutely must understand I am only doing this for my
personal conviction, as well as that of the Order. I saw how badly you were received last night.”

“It was
your doing, Snape.”

Snape
spread his hands wide in a gesture of well meaning. “Miss O’Flannery, I merely told what I had seen. If it may help, though, I am sorry.”

Aislinn sat
for a while as if considering. “Apology
accepted, Severus. Now what is it in
you want?”

Snape
inwardly shouted for joy. Everything
was going perfectly. “Coffee?” he asked,
nodding to the cup closest to her. She
raised an eyebrow and reached for the sugar.
Snape poured a bit of cream into his own, untouched cup. As Aislinn reached for it her fingers
brushed his wrist, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Her hands were freezing.

She smiled
at him as she took her first sip.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “Now,
what was it that you wanted?”

Snape
shrugged. “Order business really. As a spy for the Order, I need to know what
it is you intend to do with your skills.”

Aislinn
contemplated a bit, drinking the drugged coffee. “I’m not really sure as of yet.
I’ve thought about being a Muggle correspondent. After all, I did spend several years living
as one.”

Snape
nodded. “I see. If you’re interested in spying on Voldemort,
we’d probably have to get you a disguise.
No doubt he would recognize you as an O’Flannery otherwise.”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Aislinn nodded
sleepily. The potion was taking
effect. “I look so much like my
father.” Her eyes closed momentarily,
and her head lolled to one side. She
took a deep swig of the coffee, finishing the cup.

Severus
waited. In a few minutes she would
completely under his control. This
forced niceness made him want to vomit.
She was an object he loathed, and just having her in his chambers was
sickening. “With a bit of polyjuice
potion I doubt it would be a problem.”

“I’ve been
meaning to speak to you about that, Severus.
If you remember, you sent ten transforming students into my classroom
yesterday.”

“I’m very
sorry, Miss O’Flannery. You see, there
was not enough time for them to fully transform before the bell rang.”

O’Flannery
nodded. “I unnerstand. I completely unnerstand.” She raised her arm halfheartedly. “Severus, did ye put somethin’ in th’
drink?” was the last thing she said before falling into a stupor.

Severus
stood up quickly, pushing her into a reclining position on the couch. Her head lolled to one side; her eyes were
open but were blank. Snape grinned. It had worked perfectly. O’Flannery had enough veritaserum in her
system to put out an elephant. She
would not wake for hours.

He watched
her as he finished his coffee, brainstorming on how to proceed. He decided to begin with a simple
question. “O’Flannery, who was your
father?”

“Alastair
Patrick O’Flannery.” Her voice had
become deeper, rougher. The fake
English accent was gone; instead a thick Irish slur replaced it.

“Who was
your mother?”

“Bean Mhi
Shaughnessy-O’Flannery.”

“Where were
you born?”

“Saolaíodh in Éirinn mé,” she replied.
Snape had never heard a language quite like it. He had no idea what it meant.

“Repeat
it in English. Where were you born?” he
asked, hoping he would get something more useful out of her.

“Ireland,”
she replied. “In Cork.”

“Good. Now, Miss O’Flannery, tell me about your
life.” Snape sat back. He realized he would probably be there for a
long time, but he was willing to sacrifice sleep for answers.

“I
am thirty-three years old. I was born
in 1969 t’ th’ O’Flannery’s o’ Cork. Me
fayther was a Death Eater, as was me mum.
I have an older brother.”

“What
is his name?” Snape interrupted.

“Me
brother is Richard O’Flannery. I had a
sister once.”

Once
again, Snape felt the need to cut in.
“Miss O’Flannery, what happened to your sister?”

Aislinn
shuddered. “Me fayther killed ‘er. She was fourteen.”

Snape
shuddered. The very thought that a
father could do that to his own flesh and blood made him feel queasy. He was beginning to second-guess his
reasoning. “Please continue.”

“Me
family lived outside o’ Cork, in Ireland.
We were wealthy. Th’ children
had ev’rything they wanted. My fayther
was Voldemort’s right hand. He wanted
us children t’ follow in his footsteps.
Richard took a Dark Mark when ‘e was thirteen. He went to Durmstrang.”

“O’Flannery,
did you become a Death Eater?” Snape asked, sitting on the edge of the
couch. Now was the moment of truth.

“Nay. Fayther wanted me to, but I didn’t. So ‘e hurt me.” Aislinn blinked, but her eyes were still unfocused. “I was eleven when I started school at
‘Ogwarts. I was a Slytherin.”

Severus
thought back to his own boyhood days.
When he was in his seventh year, she would be a first year… He seemed to remember her face. In that first year she had been all smiles,
with a lack of understanding about the ways of the world. What had changed? He hadn’t known her; in fact he could barely even recall her
face. It came in flashes. It startled him he was able to remember a
lowly first year. However, he had been
Head Boy; no doubt he must have helped her out in the past. “Please continue, O’Flannery.”

“Fayther
wanted me to take th’ Dark Mark when I was thirteen. I didn’t. So Fayther took
me to a Dark Revel in Cork. Fayther and
Richard beat me. I lost three
teeth.” Aislinn paused. “I was afraid, but I didn’t take th’
Mark. I went back to school. I was fourteen when me brother’s friend
raped me. It hurt.”

“What
was his name?” asked Severus shakily.

“Lucius
Malfoy,” Aislinn responded.

Snape
gasped. Lucius had been a whoremonger,
but he had never mentioned anything about rape. Malfoy had always spoken of his conquests as consensual; most
girls would have gladly slept with him.
“He did no such thing,” Snape said under his breath.

“Yes. It was summer. I was in me room. Richard
knocked on th’ door, sayin’ he had a friend who thought I was cute. Richard brought me to his room and locked me
in. Lucius was hiding in a corner. He kicked me in the back. I fell.
He broke me nose and kicked me i' the stomach. I fought. He hit me. I passed out, an’ when I woke I was bleedin’
and in pain. He had raped me.”

Snape’s
mind was reeling. It had never occurred
to him what he would learn about her life.
He had assumed she had been a wealthy girl, spoiled and well treated by
a doting father for taking the Dark Mark and serving Voldemort. He stood, reaching for the brandy. He almost thought better of it, but by the
time he had made a decision the liquor was already in the snifter. He downed it in a single gulp, and turned to
look at the woman on his couch. Her
eyes had rolled back in her head; only the whites showed. Her body was rigid, hands crossed over her
chest as though she were dead. “Go on,”
he whispered.

“I
told me fayther. Instead of believin’
me, Fayther called me a liar and took me to another Revel. They tied me to a pole and whipped me. I still have the scars. That night Fayther watched as five men raped
me. I was only fourteen. After that, me fayther took me to Revels
every month. It was horrible.”

Tears
had been pooling in the corners of her eyes, and finally spilled over. Severus had to fight the urge to lean over
and wipe them away. He had wanted to
know the truth, and now he knew it. He
swallowed hard. He was willing to
sacrifice her trust and well being for his own. “Did you ever take the Dark Mark, O’Flannery?” he asked.

“Nay. Never.
Fayther always hated me for that; ev’ry time I refused I was beaten,
raped, or both.”

“Jesus,”
Severus muttered under his breath. This
was the price you pay. “Did you go to
school?”

“Yes. I never spoke. People were afraid o’ me; they all knew about me family. I had a few friends; four other Irish girls. Even me own house hated me. One day they held me down and shaved me
head. I slit my wrists that night. Fayther came to school and threatened to
take me home. I never tried to kill
meself again.” Aislinn paused, taking
several deep breaths. “I was fifteen
when Voldemort was defeated. Me fayther
died soon after.”

“How
did he die?” Snape asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“He
was killed by Aurors. I never cried
over him.” O’Flannery’s face was
resolute now, although still tear-stained.

“Did
the beatings stop, Miss O’Flannery?”

Aislinn
shuddered. “Nay, they dinnae. Me brother and mum were still alive,
although they kept a low profile. I
didn’t want t’ go home, ever. Mum would
beat me. She drove an ice pick through
me hand once because I called ‘er a right ould bitch. No fecking respect, she said.”

Severus
gingerly looked at her hand. On the
right one he could see a faded pink scar in the middle of her palm, a clear
indication she was not lying. “What
happened then?”

“I
grew up. I got older. The beatings continued at th’ hands o’
Richard. Mum was caught in London when
I was seventeen. She’s in
Azkaban.” Aislinn stopped speaking as
she rolled her head to one side. “I
‘ope she stays.”

“What
happened to Richard?” inquired Snape.

“It
was the summer between me sixth and seventh years at ‘Ogwarts. Richard took me t’ London, to an ould
friend. I suffered th’ worst beatin’ of
me life that day. Suddenly, a group o’
Aurors bust in and took me brother. I
was scared, and ran. I was found, an’
sent to th’ hospital there.”
O’Flannery’s hands twitched nervously.
“I was on me own. I went back t’
‘Ogwarts, and graduated that year. I
knew a boy named Rob; he’s as old as I am, and I met a man named Remus Lupin
through a mutual friend. We moved in
t’gether.”

Snape
seethed. Fucking Lupin, he
thought. So they’re hadn’t been just
a casual relationship between them. “And?” he asked, tersely.

“I started playing guitar. It was me savior, I guess. Those three years after school I did nothin’
except work wi’ the Tuatha de Dannan. I
lived as a Muggle, startin’ in 1990. I
was 21.”

“What happened then? And what’s the Tuatha de Dannan?” The word sounded odd in Snape’s throat, but
he tried to pronounce it the best he could.

O’Flannery sighed. It sounded wistful. “I went t’ school in London. Got meself a degree in forensic anthropology
and worked in Dublin fer a year or so.
Did work on th’ Skelligs, too.
Moved back t’ London and worked for th’ British Museum.” She paused.
“Tuatha de Dannan? Ah, what we
were, what we were.” She said no more
about it, so Snape decided to move on.

“What was your life like at the
time? Did you ever decide to become a
Death Eater?” Snape would not let go of
the tiny shred of hope that she would confess; that this would not all be in
vain.

“I dated. Most of me boyfriends were abusive like Fayther. They smacked me around. I felt like everythin’ was all me own
fault. I wanted t’ die. I got tattooed up t’ hide th’ scars. Former Death Eaters would send me
threats. One man found me; kept me
locked up for three days. I eventually
stole ‘is wand; used the Cruciatus. The
only time.” O’Flannery’s body shivered
involuntarily. “I was thinkin’ about
killin’ meself again.”

Snape leaned forward. “What changed your mind?”

“I met Remus again. Also joined up with two old friends that
stuck with me through it all, and we started a band. I’m still in it. Got
meself a job at th’ Ministry as an Auror two years ago. Ev’ryone assumed I was a Death Eater, so I
quit last December. I spoke t’
Dumbledore about a job as a Defense teacher.
I came to ‘Ogwarts again, a better person than I was when I left.”

Her story was seemingly over. However, Snape could not resist one final
question. “And Severus Snape? What do you think of him?”

Aislinn’s slack face contorted. “I hate him. He’s cruel. A real
bastard. I do nothin’ and he hates me
for it. He’s convinced I’m a Death
Eater. I have nothin’ to prove t’ him.”

Snape stood quickly. “You’ve proved it,” he said quietly, and
poured himself more brandy. Now all
that was left was to wait for O’Flannery to wake. He thought quickly, trying to find a place to put her. His head spun. He would have to carry her to her chambers, hoping no one would see
him.

He checked the time. It was ten thirty; he would wait thirty more
minutes before getting rid of her. Snape
turned and looked at her. She looked
ill. Her eyes were still open and
rolled back; her mouth was slack. And
yet at the same time she looked forlorn and lonely. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to get rid of her or hold her
close.

Suddenly, the magnitude of what he
had done hit him. He spun on his heel,
tossing the glass of brandy at the wall.
A ragged yell escaped his throat.
“Shit!” He had completely
betrayed her. Her past was a painful
mass of anger and blood, and he had taken that from her against her will. This was yet another reason to hate
himself. He had wanted answers. Answers were what he had received.

“Miss O’Flannery, could you ever
forgive me?” he asked, his back towards her.

“I don’t know. Níhn cinnle in
aon chor.” She had slipped back into
that strange language. Snape glanced
over his shoulder. At least he was sure
of her allegiance now. But he had
learned it at what cost? There was no
way he could avoid the accusations she would throw at him. Hopefully they could work it out and go back
to how they had been: silent and mutually suspicious. At the moment he didn’t know who to hate more. Was it her fault for not telling him
outright? Or was it his for taking her
past from her by dubious means?

Severus
sighed. He could not stand to have her
lying there, reminding him of what he had done. Two long steps brought him to her side. He scooped her up gently, noting the fact she weighed almost nothing. Her head sagged backwards, over his
arm. Empty eyes stared into his, accusing
in their blankness. At eleven o’clock
he could sneak through the hallways undetected by students and teachers alike.

The
hallways themselves were cold, and seemed to be filled with resounding
echoes. Moonlight through thin windows
cast eerie shadows on the floor.
Occasionally O’Flannery would mutter something unintelligible under her
breath, whether it was a curse or a passing thought was unknown.

At
long last Snape recognized the approaching door as her chambers. The telltale satyr statue was a reminder of
the time she had duped him into listening at her door. Snape grimaced.

He hated to be caught unawares in
anything. “How do you unlock the door?”
he asked roughly.

“I
snap me fingers twice.” Aislinn’s voice
sounded hollow.

Snape
grunted. “Is there any other way?” he
asked. He wasn’t about to leave her in
the middle of the hallway.

“Yes. Audentes fortuna juvat. It’s Latin.” The door unlocked, and Snape pushed it open. A raucous scream almost caused him to drop
O’Flannery, but he steadied himself when he saw the golden eagle.

“Damn
bird,” he muttered, and set the woman down on her bed. She would sleep for hours yet, as he should
be doing. He turned and exited the
room, cursing himself for his own stupidity and curiosity that had damaged
everything.

*

Aislinn
O’Flannery buried her head further underneath the covers, trying to escape from
the morning sun and her own anger. The
fragmentary memories were coming back to her: Snape tricking her into coming
into his chambers, Snape giving her drugged coffee, Snape stealing information
from her without her knowing. That
bastard! She sobbed into her
pillow. This was absolute treason.

I
should have known, she thought dejectedly.
His manner should have given him away.
For once he had been if not kind, at least accommodating. She cursed herself for falling into his
trap. She raised her head and checked a
clock. Eleven in the morning. At that moment she should be teaching sixth
year Defense, but she was too afraid of bursting into tears in front of the
class.

Yankee
Doodle caught her eye as he preened his feathers. “Ye good-fer-nothin’ bird!
Ye should have taken care o’ him!
Killed him!” The eagle rustled
his feathers, and flew out the window.
Even Bo was nowhere to be seen. Aislinn groaned as she turned over. Her head was killing her.
“Bastard,” was all she said.

She
pushed herself up and realized she had been sleeping in her clothes. She stripped them off, tossing them onto the
back of a chair. She reached around,
fingering the scars on her lower back.
There was no pain in them now, only the lingering memory of blood.
Sometimes she wished for something to hurt, something to remind her of the
agony she went through to survive.
Maybe then she would not fall into traps so easily.

She
saw no reason to get dressed today. She
would not be going out. The silk
chemise was where she had left it; Aislinn pulled it on over her head. She needed time to think. She needed to sort out her feelings; in fact
she was feeling almost nothing. She was
in a state of numbness and disbelief.
She was still trying to wrap her head around what had been done to
her. She grimaced.

A
knock at the door pulled her out of her reverie. She didn’t answer; hoping whoever it was would take the hint and
go away.

“Miss
O’Flannery, will you open the door?”
Dumbledore’s voice was both commanding and friendly at the same time.

Aislinn
sighed and snapped twice. “Headmaster,
the door is unlocked, but I would prefer if you would be kind and fuck off.”

The
door opened. Dumbldore was
smiling. “This is more like the young
Aislinn I knew at Hogwarts. Although
she was slightly less happy than the current Aislinn.”

She
smiled halfheartedly. “I wish I could
say the same today, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore
cocked an eyebrow. “We missed you at
breakfast, Miss O’Flannery.” When she
didn’t answer, he asked, “May I sit down?”

Aislinn
waved her hand in a gesture of acquiescence.
“Please, do.” She flopped down
on her bed, checking for the cat out of habit.
“Albus, I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

“Do
what?” Dumbledore asked.

“This.” Aislinn indicated the room in a wide sweep
of her arm. “Teach. I feel less than useful here.” She sighed.
“And I can’t stand anymore of Severus Snape.”

A
knowing glint surfaced in Dumbledore’s eye.
“Yes, he is rather unkind to you, isn’t he?”

“That’s
not entirely it, Headmaster. Last night
he-“

“Yes?”
Albus pried.

“-He
used his position to take advantage of me.”
She fairly spit it out. The
anger was still washing over her in waves.
It took almost all her self-control not to walk into his classroom and
strangle him in front of the first years.

“I
would hardly believe Severus would do something of a carnal nature, Aislinn,”
Dumbledore began. “It’s not him.”

“Oh,
but it’s perfectly fine to use deception, is it?” Aislinn screamed. “It’s fine for him to drug my coffee and,
when I can’t do anything to defend myself, take my past from me? Well I don’t fecking think so!” Her false accent had been lost in her tirade. “I dinnae unnerstand you, Albus. So ‘e can’t fuck me, but if ‘e uses that
veritaserum it’s fine?” Tears leaked
out from the corners of her eyes. “It
hurts, Albus. I came ‘ere to get away
from all that shite, and it follows me.”

Dumbledore rose. “Aislinn, darling. Please.” He hugged her
close, letting her sob on his shoulder.
“Of course it’s not all right.
In fact, I had no idea he would even attempt such a thing. This is treason in the highest degree and
must not go excused.” He paused, as if
thinking. “I just don’t understand why
he did it.”

“’E
thinks I’m a Death Eater, that’s why.
‘E’s a filthy bastard, Albus. Tá an
ghráin agam ar an bhfear sin.”

“You
know I don’t speak Gaelic, love,” said Dumbledore, stroking her head.

Aislinn
raised her head and looked into his eyes.
“Albus, yeer the closes’ thing t’ a fayther I’ve ever had. Unnerstand that.”

Dumbledore
nodded, truly touched. “That means a
lot to me, Aislinn. But tell me, will
you be returning to your post any time soon?”

She
sighed, once again adopting her cultured British accent. “I don’t know, Headmaster. I think, for the time being, I will prepare
my resignation letter. Send an owl to
Lupin. I’m sure he would be more than
happy to fill in for me.”

Dumbledore
nodded his head slowly. “I see.” He stood slowly and walked to the door. “I do hope you change your mind, Miss
O’Flannery. You are a valuable asset to
this school, no matter what Severus Snape thinks,” he said, and closed the door
behind him.

Aislinn
collapsed onto her bed, crossing her arms over head in a gesture of
protection. She didn’t want to leave,
but at the same time she saw no reason in staying. Everyone already assumed she was an agent of Voldemort, and
Snape’s obvious breach of trust had soured the entire experience for her. She had learned the hard way not to give up
on the future, but she couldn’t see a future in which there was constant
distrust.

Where
is my fucking cat, she thought. Bo
was missing in action when he should be there for comfort. Oh well.
She always had nicotine.

Aislinn
rolled over, grabbing her pack of smokes from her bedside table and lighting it
sloppily. She stood up and perched
precariously on the ledge outside her window.
Who cares if she was in her pajamas?
If they hadn’t seen it yet, it was high time they did. But, much to her relief, no one was
wandering around the lake. The smoke
went into her lungs, calming her. She
slumped against the window jamb.
“Fuck!” was all she said.

Cigarette
finished; she flicked the butt out of her window and turned. Her clothes from last night were still
draped over the chair: school robes, skirt, shirt, everything. Aislinn sighed and tried to ignore the mess,
but her early years of living in almost perfect cleanliness won over. She picked up the garments, putting them
into a bureau drawer reserved especially for dirty clothes. A new outfit was selected for the day, and
the chemise once again graced the end of her bed.

I
know I said I wouldn’t get dressed today, she reflected, but I can’t
just sit around in my room feeling sorry for myself. I need to get out and preferably torture Severus Snape in a most
uncomfortable way. Aislinn grinned
as she thought of the pain she would like to inflict on him. He could never withstand twenty
lashes with a cat-o-nine tails. He
would probably cry like a little girl, servant of Voldemort or not. The Cruciatus might be excruciating, but
Muggles did think up some of the vilest tortures ever. Aislinn turned to survey herself in a mirror,
and upon finding herself presentable, promptly left the room. Two snaps ensured no one would break in, and
she was on her way.

She
would not be teaching class again. Best
if she could enjoy her last few days here with something resembling dignity. Lupin would be happy for a job; he had been
perpetually unemployed since his last stint as a teacher at Hogwarts. Aislinn had been helping to support him, but
according to her way of thinking, he needed more food. And a good set of clothes, a voice in
the back of her head added. Aislinn
sniffed. “Exactly,” she said aloud, to
no one in particular.

A
bell rang, and the hallways began to fill with students. Some gave her a puzzled look, but most just
seemed to ignore her. She wondered who
was filling in for her. Best not to
think on it. She followed a pack of
first years down a stair and out into the courtyard. A gateway led to the grounds beyond the school, and her
destination of choice: Hagrid’s cottage.

She
had spent many a day there in her youth, but had not found time to visit him
since her return to the school as an employee.
Now was a perfect time. Her old
friend might look daft, but he always had relatively sound advice for someone
down on their luck. Her only wish was
that he still brewed the tea she was so fond of.

Hagrid
was outside, rooting around on the westward side of the cottage. Fang, his huge dog, started barking as soon
as he realized she was coming. Aislinn
smiled and waved, calling out a greeting.
“Arrah, Hagrid. Ye still ‘ere?”

Hagrid’s
large face lit up in a grin, and he laughed.
“Aislinn, darlin.’ I’ve been
wonderin’ when yeh would come ‘n’ visit me.
I seen yeh at dinner, but yeh’ve always been too busy shootin’ looks at
P’rfessor Snape.”

It was Aislinn’s turn to laugh. “Forgive me language, but Snape’s a right
bastard, make no mistake about it.”
O’Flannery grimaced. “Feckin’
fool that ‘e is.”

Hagrid
shrugged. “Mos’ students seem ter think
so, anyway.” He slapped himself in the
forehead. “What am I standin’ here
jawin’ about? Come in, darlin’ dear,
and I’ll fix yeh a pot o’ tea.”

“A
pot o’ tay is jus’ what I’ve been lookin’ for, Hagrid, me ould friend.”

*

Harry
had waited until eleven before deciding to go back to the dormitory. Obviously she wasn’t showing. He was both confused and angry. She had promised! She couldn’t have forgotten. After the craziness of last night, there was
no way that Occlumency could have slipped her mind.

Harry
sighed. He didn’t want to think that
Aislinn O’Flannery would stand him up.
In fact, he was one hundred percent sure his professor would be there on
time. Something big must have come
up. He turned from her door and started
towards the dormitories in slow, measured steps. His shoes scuffed a cadence on the old floors of the castle; it
echoed off the walls giving the old corridors an eerie feeling.

He
was just thinking about ghosts when something black flashed up ahead. Harry gulped. He pressed his body closer to the wall, but didn’t slow his
steps. As he rounded a corner, though,
he stopped in his tracks. Professor
Snape was hurrying down the hallway as if running from a fire. He turned, and it was too late for Harry to
hide.

Snape’s
glare could have frozen a fire. “Harry
Potter. Come here.”

Harry
gulped and stepped forward. “Yes,
Professor?” he asked meekly.

“What
are you doing, roaming the hallways at eleven at night?” He voice was acidic and cold at the same
time. Harry couldn’t tell if it was
filled with fear, hate, or both.

“I
was supposed to have detention with Professor O’Flannery tonight. I was waiting by her classroom, but she
never showed up. I’m heading back to my
dormitory now.” Harry promptly added
the obligatory “sir” before Snape could possibly say anything.

A
look of mortification crossed his professor’s features. “Well, Mr. Potter, I suggest you
hurry.” Harry hesitated. What was going on? “MISTER POTTER! DID I NOT
JUST TELL YOU TO HURRY!” Snape’s eyes
widened dangerously. “GET TO YOUR
DORMITORY NOW, BEFORE I DOCK ONE HUNDRED POINTS!” Nothing more could be said, because Harry was running down the
hallways as fast as he would allow.

He
didn’t stop until Snape was left far behind him. He leaned against a wall, panting. “What the hell is going on?” he said to himself before walking
the rest of the way to Gryffindor. Not
only was Harry’s initial confusion ebbing, but also he was now more than sure
that Snape had something to do with O’Flannery’s absence.
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DamhsaÃ­ Naofa is DiamhaslaÃ­

DamhsaÃ Naofa is DiamhaslaÃ