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Slánaighear Ofrail An Seangharrá

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Chapter Five: When First We Practice to Deceive

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Orra smiled crookedly at the obviously still weary man, keeping her eyes locked on his in deference to his modesty. Gently, with the least amount of contact she could afford him, Orra eased the soft cotton t-shirt over Snape’s head; he lifted his arms to help. Stepping to one side, she helped him stand, always keeping a steadying hand on his arm. Slipping behind him, she stripped off his briefs with a business-like manner. She placed one hand on his back, the other on his arm, as he stepped into the large claw-footed tub filled with wonderfully soothing warm water and sandalwood-scented froth, which yielded him even more modesty.

At least it doesn’t smell too feminine. He wisely kept his thoughts to himself as he suspiciously eyed the woman laying out thick ivory-colored towels.

“Coffee or tea?” she asked, still purposefully looking only into his eyes before answering for herself. “Tea, I should think.”

He nodded. She smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

Gratefully Snape sank lower in the tub, his head resting on the curled lip. He sighed, allowing his eyes to droop shut. He quirked one eyebrow at the muffled clanging of the telephone once again. Orra caught it on the first annoying ring.

As she puttered about her small kitchen, Orra tucked the phone under her chin to keep her hands free. Kellyn’s voice boomed through the small speaker.

“I caught her playing a flute just outside the pub,” Kellyn snapped.

“Was it Robert’s flute?” Orra bantered with a coy grin.

“Yes, but that’s not the point, Ors.” Kellyn paused momentarily, and the ring of metal against metal could be heard in the background. “I’m really starting to think there might be something to what the old crafty butcher was rabbiting on about so much.”

“Are you at work?” Orra interrupted her friend, a decided scowl on her face.

“Yep, love this new speaker-phone.” Kellyn grinned evilly at the phone, knowing she had just squicked her old friend to the core.

“You are so disgusting, Kellyn.” Orra grimaced. “It’s not like your, ah, customers, won’t wait there.”

“I know, but, I have so much fun torturing you.” Kellyn laughed into the speaker. “You know they’re just dead bodies, nothing to worry about, right?” she teased.

“Kellyn, you need help. You really, really need help,” Orra grouched into the phone as she stomped back into her bedroom to gather up clothes from her closet that looked like they might fit her houseguest.

“This poor blighter should have taken pity on his liver a long time ago,” Kellyn commented dryly as she slid the offending organ into a waiting container with a slushy plop.

“’Llyn, really, call me back later, would ya?” Orra griped.

“Okay, okay. But tell me how your houseguest is doing first,” Kellyn prodded her friend as she prodded the dead man’s damaged liver simultaneously.

“Seems all right,” Orra offered thoughtfully, standing outside the bath, one hand on the door.

“I’ll be over when I’m done here,” Kellyn concluded.

“Wash your hands first.” Orra grimaced at the thought of where her old friend’s hands currently were.

“Certainly.” Kellyn laughed, a bit of a dark undertone to her chuckle. “See you later.”

“Yep.” Orra clicked the phone off then rapped softly on the wooden door merely as a warning.

Only stepping partly inside, she lay down a plain white collared cotton shirt, a pair of black trousers, with the requisite socks, and a pair of boxers.

“These will have to suit you until I get yours washed.” Orra smiled at him.

“I am certain they will be fine,” Snape added as graciously as he was capable.

“And, I thought you might like to know where this is,” added Orra as she reverently lay his wand atop the pile of clothes. Snape stared at her in amazement from his repose.

“Yes, thank you for thinking of it.” His glittering eyes watched as she nodded then turned back through the door, closing it behind her.

Just who the bloody blazes is she? A Muggle who carries around phoenix’s tears without question, waiting for a wizard with a Dark Mark to appear, needing them? No questions asked? She takes me into her home. Albus, if I ever get a hold of your portrait again, you have a lot of explaining to do!

Snape continued to grump mentally as he sniffed the soap before deciding it was safe to use to scrub down his long legs.

He struggled out of the tub, pride forcing him not to call out for Orra. He slipped onto the closed lid of the toilet once more, toweling off his long limbs, and his hair, before dubiously picking up the clothes she had left for his use. His ears picked up on the sound of gravel crunching outside the window. He stood to peek from the safety of the bath, spying two cars full of men, pulling next to the small blue car already parked in the drive.

Immediately his body’s muscles became taut with tension; he hurriedly finished dressing and tucked his wand safely inside his shirt. Taking a calming breath through his nose, he pushed open the door, now able to hear Orra’s voice clearly without the wooden barrier.

“How the bloody hell should I know where he is?” Orra snapped angrily at the dark-haired garda who was pointing his finger at her menacingly. Snape stopped in his tracks, sinking onto the foot of the bed to listen, to ascertain the two men’s intent.

“He’s your brother-in-law. I know you know where he is, if he isn’t already here.” The man’s blue eyes flashed angrily at her defiance.

“John Murphy, you bloody dolt, just because he’s my brother-in-law, doesn’t mean I know where he is all the time. I haven’t seen him since Mass last night.” Orra stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at the show of force in her home.

“Mass? Damn!” John spat in consternation, rounding on one of his own men. “He was at Mass last night?”

“Aye, he was the lector.” Orra laughed at the back of John’s head.

“That’s all fine, Orra, but he had plenty of time to stir the pot afterwards. We have reason to believe he’s injured, and we all know the injured who can’t go to the hospital come … here,” John Murphy snarled menacingly. “Or to Kellyn. She would be here as well, now, wouldn’t she?”

“Wrong-o, Johnny boy,” Orra sang out, tossing the portable phone at him. “Hit the redial button and call the last number that rang in,” she dared him. “Kellyn be in the morgue, boyos, cutting up some poor dead sod with a bad liver.”

One of the gardai caught the phone as John tossed it backwards, expertly punching the buttons, turning on the speaker just in time to have Kellyn’s voice boom through the speaker. “MORGUE! My hands are full, so this better be important!”

“Ah, well, ah, yeah, I guess you are there,” Murphy stuttered, flustered over his miscalculation.

“Who the fuck is this?” Kellyn roared.

“Garda Murphy, Ms. Byrne.” The man actually had the good sense to seem cowed.

“What do you want, garda?” Kellyn snarled, not yelling, but still quite obviously angry.

“We, err, I am looking for Richard O’Shea.”

"And you thought I was cutting him up?” Kellyn growled.

“Uh, no, I thought you and he were here at the rectory cottage,” Murphy stuttered. “Orra claimed you just rang her from the morgue.” Murphy struggled to regain his superiority again.

“So, you’re back to botherin’ Orra, are ya? What’s next? Gonna tie her up again and pretend to burn her at the stake for a witch?” Kellyn’s angry tone and words caught Snape’s attention. Thus far, he had stayed out of sight, sitting on the end of the bed, waiting and listening. Kellyn’s words startled him into a coughing fit.

“Company, Orra?” Murphy turned a hardened glare on the woman.

“Yes, a friend from London,” Orra purred sweetly as Snape pulled open the door, reclining in the doorframe.

“Murphy, you and your thugs leave her alone!” Kellyn bellowed from the speaker. The younger man holding the phone looked at his superior questioningly.

Murphy eyed Orra carefully. Orra hid all concern as she strolled over to stand in front of Snape, allowing him to use her shoulder for support as well. He, supportive in turn, slipped his wand into his hand, hidden behind her back, and pressed it lightly against her to let her know he would protect her. Murphy glared at him suspiciously. Snape rose admirably to the occasion, his years in Voldemort’s service coming to the forefront in an instant.

“London,” snapped Snape. “Perhaps you can explain why you are here bothering my friend so early in the morning?” He glowered menacingly at the assembled authorities with his best “scare the dunderheads” glare. Kellyn fell silent on the other end of the line.

Murphy glared back at the newcomer with a hard, penetrating stare. “So you met Orra last summer then?” he inquired, digging for any details that might betray the deception he so desperately wanted to find. Snape felt someone screaming in his thoughts, “Oxford.”

“Yes, at Oxford.” Snape smiled greasily, squeezing Orra’s shoulder just a tiny bit. He heard Orra’s voice again, “Visiting professor.” “While Orra was visiting our fair university.” In response, Orra tilted her head sideways to grace him with the tiniest of smiles, leaning into him companionably, bolstering his still slightly weakened legs.

“So you’re a professor as well?” Murphy hedged.

“Yes,” Orra butted in, “Not that it is any of your business.” Her hands began to clench. “Now, if you want the key, it’s there on the hook where it always is. Leave it on the altar as usual.” Her eyes were growing a dark, dangerous green. “I suggest you take your band of ruffians here and leave before something inexplicable happens and you begin accusing me of hexing you … again,” Orra snarled, her voice falling an octave into threatening range.

A young blond man lifted the large brass key from its hook by Orra’s door.

“C’mon, then, we’ll go search the church,” Murphy relented, not wanting to antagonize the woman in front of a witness.

“Show yourselves out,” growled Orra.

“I know you help him, Ors,” Murphy paused in the doorway to press just a little further.

“An’ I know your arse is itchy. Get out of my house,” Orra commanded.

“I’ll be back,” Murphy threatened, turning his back on the couple and exiting, but not before Snape took careful aim at his arse with his wand. Whispering breathily, he murmured, “Furnunculus blandus.”

Orra furrowed her brows, daring not to speak until she heard her door slam.

“What did you do?” she challenged Snape, rounding on him with her eyes still flashing.

“His arse will, indeed, itch, in about an hour or so.” Snape grinned snidely at his hostess. “Hope he has a good salve on hand.”

Orra burst into raucous laughter. Snorting, she tried to breathe. “He … is so … going to … blame me,” she managed to spit out.

Snape arched one eyebrow at her mirth, peering down his nose at her just before his knees buckled. Orra caught him in both arms, holding him close to steady him. “Oh my, let’s sit you down,” she exclaimed, guiding him to the couch. His eyes fell closed, and he panted softly.

“I don’t understand. You should be getting stronger,” Orra fretted, leaving him to fetch the tea and toast.

“ORS!” Kellyn shouted from the phone. “What the hell is going on now?”

Orra snatched the phone from her desk, turning the speaker off. “I’ll have to call you back, ’Llyn. No worries, the gardai are gone.” She clicked the phone off, gathered the small tray, and bustled back to the sitting area.

Setting the tray down, she studied Snape worriedly. She gently felt his head again. Instead of finding a fever, she found cold, clammy skin. Then, she really began to worry.

“Here, tea with honey and lemon, for your throat,” she called out, hoping to rouse him when her touch didn’t.

Snape forced his eyes open and his hands to take the proffered mug. Sipping the soothing liquid, he felt a bit stronger and reached for the toast as well.

Orra studied his face with obvious apprehension. He stared back with similarly obvious concern.

“I believe I should be stronger as well,” he commented dryly.

“I wonder why?” Orra pondered aloud, sipping at her tea. “Get out of the garden, Orra!” She jumped up, nearly spilling the contents of the mug. “The snake, it was cursed, wasn’t it?” She startled Snape into withdrawing as far back into the couch as he could press himself, then understanding washed over Snape’s face as well.

“Yes, it was. It was a Horcrux.” Mentally, his gears shifted into overdrive.

“I don’t know about a whore-cruckseewhatsees, but a curse is a curse, and must be countered.” Orra concluded emphatically. “Problem is … I don’t know how to counter it.” She sank back down in the chair sadly.

"Neither do I, but I do know where we might find the answer,” Snape pondered aloud. “But do I dare go back there?”

“Your school?” Orra stared at him, literally watching what was left of his color drain from his face.

“Yes,” Snape whispered, “but, I don’t know if I can Apparate in my current condition.”

“Apparate? Is that what the green powder stuff is for?” Orra asked hopefully.

“Green powder? Floo powder?” Snape stared at her in amazement.

“Sure enough, flue powder. Albus left me some of this stuff for ‘emergencies’, he said,” Orra added as she took a small tinderbox from the mantel piece, handing it to Severus.

“He planned for all contingencies, did he not?” Snape wondered aloud, peering into the box at was certain to be Floo powder.

“I suppose,” Orra continued doubtfully. “How does it work? I mean, Albus told me to toss some in the grate and holler his name and step in, but really, how does it work?” Orra pressed on.

“Magic.” Snape smiled at her, handing back the box. He then tried to stand, only to collapse back onto the couch, eyes rolling back into his head, unconscious once again.

“Jaysus! Snape?” Orra leapt to her feet. “Snape?” she shouted, patting his face. “Mother of mercy, watch over us,” she exhorted, shoving the low table out of her path, setting the tinderbox on the hearth, and then dragging the limp form of Severus Snape to her hearth. Holding him in her lap with one arm, she wiggled backward into the grate. Grabbing a fistful of powder, she tossed it behind her, yelling in a panic, “I don't know how the bloody hell this shite works, but stand back, I'm coming through. It's an emergency! ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!"

 

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Garda - guard

Gardai siochána - police force/guardians of the peace.

Byrne - Ó Broin in the original, meaning a raven, therefore Kellyn Byrne, powerful raven.

Thanks to the lovely and talented WeasleyWench and TrickieWoo for lending their keen eyes and support.