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Chapter4: Introductions

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Kellyn rolled her eyes at the little woman. Orra laughed heartily. “Indeed, I think we may have finally healed him.” She continued to watch Aideen’s gleeful dance. Orra slipped around in the bed to lean against the headboard next to Severus, her eyes tired, and dim. She watched tiredly as Kellyn and Aideen drank yet again.

“I think we need to make sure everything is in working order.” Aideen leered at Severus with clear intent written all over her face. Orra shook her head. Kellyn lunged for her sprite-like friend, catching her by the arm just before she pounced on the poor man.

“Aideen!” she barked sharply. “Not tonight.”

“Kellyn, you’re ruining my fun.” Aideen pouted, reaching out her free hand to stroke Snape’s thigh. “I really think we need to make sure everything is healed this time.” Aideen pursed her lips at Kellyn, trying her best serious face. Her little hand traveled higher. Snape reached over to snatch her wrist, but not moving as quickly as he could have.

“I assure you, madam, all is in working order,” he growled threateningly. Orra giggled at this, her eyes heavy-lidded.

“Are you certain?” Aideen wheedled, batting her eyelashes and flirting as best she could.

“Yes,” Snape snapped.

“Pity then,” Aideen added with a gleam in her eyes. “The night is still young.”

Orra dragged herself off the bed, as well as Kellyn. With a significant glance between them, the two women snatched their overactive friend by both arms, unceremoniously hauling her out of the bedroom amidst her petulant protests.

“Sleep well, friend of Albus,” Orra called as they struggled through the doorway.

“Thank you,” Snape whispered hoarsely.

The three women settled on the couch in Orra’s sitting area with Kellyn plying the still spitting-mad Aideen with more whiskey. They chatted quietly, too quietly for Snape to make out their conversation. Their soft, melodic voices soon lulled him to sleep, a not necessarily difficult feat after the traumatic events of his day.

Orra sat between the other two, half-listening to their banter, vaguely registering that according to Kellyn, someone named Robert was in town and supposedly at the pub tonight. She yawned then leaned her head onto her hand. Within minutes, Orra’s head drooped, and she was soon fast asleep.

“Worn out,” Kellyn whispered.

“Should we leave her here?” Aideen queried with concern.

“Don’t think so. She’ll just wake up a hundred times to go check on the friend of Albus in there.”

“Let’s move her in there, then,” Aideen concluded. “Maybe they’ll both sleep better?”

“I think you’re right,” Kellyn agreed as she stood up, easily lifting her slender friend to her feet. “Off to bed with you, Orra O’Shea.”

Orra nodded sleepily, allowing her friends to guide her. They slipped her onto the bed, pulled off her shoes, and then tucked her under the blankets. Kellyn moved to her dresser, rummaged through Orra’s drawers, finding the wadded up shirt. Moving to Orra’s side, she tucked the plain white shirt under her friend’s hand. Orra instinctively curled her fingers around it, tucking it under her cheek.

Aideen knotted her brow in confusion. Kellyn hauled her out of the room backwards, whispering quietly as they exited, “Liam’s.”

“Mother of Mercy,” exhorted Aideen. “How long has it been now?”

“Three years,” Kellyn answered sadly.

“Should we worry about her?” Aideen’s eyes clouded over with concern. “That seems like a long time to still be mourning.”

“Who are we to say that it’s been too long?” Kellyn begged the question as the pair slipped outside to the car.

“You say Robert is in town?” The cool night air served to divert Aideen’s quicksilver attention once again.

“Yes, and at the pub, too,” Kellyn prompted her, eager to let the pair inside the cottage sleep.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Aideen quipped.

“You, to get in the car!” Kellyn snapped back.

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Snape’s body jerked to total alertness, hand instinctively groping for his wand, sitting bolt upright. The horrible clanging sound befuddled him further. He suppressed the urge to hyperventilate in his unfamiliar surroundings, wandless, and apparently half-naked. He nearly jumped off the bed when Orra draped one hand on his cheek, drawing his attention to her, the deep calm of her eyes reassuring him while she spoke into a strange black contraption with a sleep-deepened voice.

“’Allo?” She rubbed the bridge of her nose in irritation then ran her fingers through her hair, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, turning her back on Snape.

“Yes, of course this is Professor O’Shea,” she griped into the mouthpiece. “Who the bloody hell else would answer my phone at this ungodly hour on a Saturday?” She shook her head, stretching her free arm over her head. “Finnegan,” the woman snarled into the phone.

Snape’s black eyes sharpened, a smirk quirked his lips.

“No, absolutely not,” Orra snapped in aggravation. She paused, pinching her nose in a very familiar fashion. She huffed, waiting for the pleading on the other end to cease. Trying to break in, she cleared her throat, then fell silent again.

“’Allo?” Orra seemed to start the conversation over again, now befuddled herself. “Mrs. Finnegan?” Orra began to shake her head in absolute disbelief, she whispered under her breath for only Snape to hear, “Of all the bloody bollocks-ing idiocy!” After listening for a few moments, Orra nearly shouted into the phone, “No … ickle Finnegan may not have an extension. I do not give extensions to …” She paused momentarily before a decidedly menacing glare overcame her features. “ … the living.”

Snape forced himself to bite back a chuckle at her expense. He willed his body to remain still and listen to her one-sided conversation. He slowly came to grips with his predicament as the memories of the previous day and evening floated to the surface of his consciousness.

“Quite right then. Do let me know how you fare. I so love free time to travel.”

A resounding slam signaled the end of the conversation as the plastic phone met the hard wood of the night table. “Bloody, stupid, imbecilic, babied, coddled, pampered, stupid, idiotic, privileged, pompous, thick …” Orra ranted, searching for a venomous enough word.

“Dunderhead?” Snape graciously filled in the blank.

“Yes, good word, that - dunderhead.” Orra smiled, very satisfied. “Sacked. Imagine having your mama call and threaten to sack your professor.” She shook her head in absolute disgust. “This is the Uni, not some bloody neighborhood school,” she snarled.

“Professor?” Snape silkily inquired, still not certain if he should move.

“Oh, right then.” Orra turned back around. “Almost forgot I have company.” She bestowed a brilliant smile on Snape as she shuffled around to face him. “Suppose now that we’ve slept together, we should at least introduce ourselves?” she added with a hint of laughter, her green-gold eyes merry, not in the least upset by the strange circumstances that brought an unknown man to sleep in her bed.

“Professor Severus Snape, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Snape extended his hand. Orra accepted his offer, meeting him with a firm grip and a steady gaze.

“Professor Orra O’Shea, likewise.” She smiled, before adding, “Where do you teach, Professor?” She peered at him, sizing him up.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Indeed? That school of Albus’?”

“He was the Headmaster … err, before me,” Snape added, suddenly unsure just how much information to share with the pretty redhead. With a quick dodge, Snape steered the conversation away from himself. “Dunderheads must be universal.”

Orra threw her head back, laughing heartily.

“Universal,” she confirmed while moving her hand ever so gently to brush his hair away from his face. Snape cringed from the contact. Orra persevered. Her face grew grave as she tilted his chin to get a better look at his neck. “Feeling better?” she asked with obvious concern.

“Quite,” Snape answered, a shiver running through his body.

“Lean a bit for me, please?” Orra requested softly, studying the faded marks on his neck. She laid her cool hand over the two punctures on the back of his neck, checking for any warmth. A small smile quirked her lips as she tilted his head back to examine the punctures in the front of his neck; one healed as well as the others, one still an angry red circle. “Does this one still hurt?” Orra inquired gently as she felt the skin around his wound.

“A bit,” Snape offered truthfully.

“Hmmmm.” Orra sat back, removing her touch, watching with great interest as Severus visibly relaxed at the lack of contact.

“Madam, if I may, exactly how did you heal me this well?” Snape’s eyes glittered in curiosity.

“First, if’n you call me Madam again, you may find yourself in dire need of healing … again,” she goaded him, her eyes twinkling. “My name is Orra. Please use it.”

She reached to the side table for the crystal vial that until recently rested securely around her neck. She passed the delicate looking decanter to Snape, pressing it into his palm.

“Albus left that filled with phoenix tears, with me, for you.”

“Fawkes,” Snape muttered, holding the vial up to the sunlight.

“Fawkes? Who is Fawkes?” asked Orra in confusion.

“The phoenix who attached himself to Dumbledore.”

“A real phoenix?” breathed the woman in awe. “I did’n really think …”

“Yes, a real phoenix.” Snape smiled at her incredulity, his face aching with the stretch and burn of long unused muscles.

“The hell you say!” Orra sat back, folding her arms across her waist. “A real phoenix?” She merely shook her head in amazement.

Quite uncharacteristically, Snape chuckled at her. She grinned back, eyes twinkling merrily. Orra scooted closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek to hold him steady. Ignoring his instant rigidity, Orra pressed her soft lips to his temple quite firmly. Snape flinched at the unaccustomed contact, screwing his eyes shut.

“You feel warm.” Her eyes clouded over. “Just what the blazes bit you anyway?” she charged as she stood up, bustling over to her drawers and started rummaging, pulling out a clean shirt and boxers.

“A very large, very poisonous snake,” Snape answered dully, fingering the lingering marks on his neck, still disgruntled over the unwanted contact.

“Damn!” Orra cursed as she turned back around to face him. “We are going to put you in a nice bath. You will feel better when you’re done.” Her words almost felt like a threat. Snape glowered at her, distinctly disliking the commanding tone of her voice. “Then we’ll see about breakfast.”

“I am perfectly capable of bathing myself, Orra,” he growled.

“Fine then,” she snapped back. “I’ll go start the water.”

She hurried around the bed and disappeared through the door at the far side of her room. Snape sat up, rearranging the blankets for his best protection and glared at the door. Why the bloody hell am I sitting here waiting for that insufferable woman’s permission? I am a grown man. I can walk. He glowered as he gently eased his feet from under the blankets. So far, so good.

He stood up with his usual flare, the effect lost without robes. Orra strode through the doorway just in time to see him waver then nearly collapse onto the bed. Hurrying to his side, Orra took pity on the man’s pride, and held back the biting comment sitting on the tip of her tongue. Quietly, and with soft eyes, she held out her hand as both a peace offering and an aid. Snape sulked momentarily before accepting her grudging gift. He stood again, this time with the surprising strength of the willowy woman to bolster him.

She began to speak ever so softly, trying a different tack with the obviously prideful friend of Albus.

“Severus Snape, Albus charged me with your healing and protection. I will honor my word to him, with or without your consent.” She guided him in to sit upon the closed lid of the john. She took advantage of her position to peer down at him. He averted his eyes to stare at the tiled floor. Orra placed both hands softly on either of his cheeks, tilting his head up to look her in the eye.

“There is no shame here. I will care for you. I will do everything within my abilities to restore you to full health,” the redheaded woman vowed with all the tumultuous emotions roiling around in her heart. “Please allow me?” she nearly begged his permission. Snape tried with all his waning power to reach into her mind to read her thoughts but found only a blank wall. Chalking it up to his weakened state and not having his wand, he really didn’t understand why, but he decided to trust the strange but non-threatening woman. He merely nodded.

Orra smiled widely at him, caressing his cheek with one hand in an almost loving manner. She turned to shut off the still running water. Snape watched her as her long-fingered hands reached out from the long green sleeves of the dress she was still wearing from the night before. She returned her attention to him.

“Off with the shirt, sir.”

Snape nearly blushed in response, but in the face of a newly offered friendship, he reached for her hand, pleading softly, “Please, my name is Severus.”

Tears prickled at the edges of Orra’s eyes at the strange emotions she could see in his dark eyes: overwhelming, unfathomable emotions colliding and crashing right in front of her eyes.

“Severus …” His name rolled off her tongue with a musical quality thanks to her lilting accent, “Unless you magical folk have a different way of doing this, you need to remove your clothes before getting in the water.” She kept her tone light, and her eyes focused on his. He nodded uncertainly. “Now, either I help you, or …” She grinned evilly at him before continuing, “I call Aideen over to help.” Snape gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.

“I think I should prefer your assistance,” he whispered hoarsely. Orra beamed triumphantly, assisting him in lifting the shirt over his head.