FIC: Moving On (PG)
Title: Moving On
Type: Fic
Age-Range Category: Three
Characters: Eileen, original character, Albus, Severus
Author: iulia_linnea
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eileen finds a new life in books.
"Eileen Irma Prince Snape?"
Eileen looked up, though not very far, from her table at the Hog's Head to see a portly young lady with long braids shot through with red ribbons smiling down at her. "Who are you?"
"I'm Aamina. Albus sent me," the suddenly tall, bare-headed lady told her, taking a seat without asking. Ramrod straight, she asked, "Are you ready to take up a career?"
Eileen blinked. Aamina's cocoa skin seemed to ripple and darken into unblemished ebony with deep blue lights. Eileen blinked again and saw that Aamina was now cinnamon-skinned and wearing her hair in a short afro, bound up by yellow silk.
"Don't worry," Aamina told her. "It's not contagious."
"Are you a Metamorphmagus?" asked Eileen.
"No. I'm a Traveler, and sometimes, I er, discombobulate."
Eileen's frown deepened. Aamina laughed. They sat silently for a moment whilst Aamina's form altered again and again and then, without warning, settled down.
The young lady, so very young, it seemed, sported pigtails and a huge grin. "I know. I look about twelve, don't I? I do like this form, though. It makes taking exercise in Hogsmeade so much more fun."
Eileen's mouth opened but no words issued from it. She snapped it closed, annoyed with herself.
"Are you all right?" asked Aamina. "I mean to say, all right in your own situation?" She reached for Eileen's hand.
Eileen reached back and, quite without meaning to, burst into tears.
~*~
Sometime later after two pots of tea and several shot glasses full of something Aamina called "Courage Draught," Eileen found herself explaining everything.
"-and that's when it happened. Just as I raised my wand but before I could cast, he . . . he just purpled up and died."
"So you didn't kill him, then."
"No, but . . . I was . . . I was going to, Aamina. I . . . I wanted to."
"Well, you didn't, so no worries, there. Did you leave his body?"
Eileen wiped her eyes. "Er, yes. In the kitchen. Locked all the doors, though. Closed the curtains."
"I can work with that-and you're very much like my librarian look. That will be a help."
"I don't understand," Eileen said. "Mrs. Evans told me that the Headmaster would-"
"Oh, she's right. Albus is helping you. Right now. With me." Aamina grinned again.
"How?" Eileen demanded. "And . . . why?"
"I should think because you asked, but also because my time has come, and your son is teaching at Hogwarts, now. Helping members of staff is something Albus does."
"Your 'time'? You're dying?"
"Oh," Aamina said, "no. At least, not today. Besides, dying's easy to get over if one's in practice with the art-but to answer your question, no, my 'time' simply refers to the fact that, as an Unfixed Person, I can't stay anywhen too long. When I do," Aamina continued, as her eyes lightened, her skin darkened, and her breasts lost mass but gained bouyancy, "my form becomes unstable. It moves through the other forms it's already taken in the pasts, presents, and futures."
"I do not understand you, Aamina."
"That's all right. You're not truly meant to. It's better that way. But we can help each other, my friend."
Eileen felt oddly warmed at Aamina's words. She didn't like it; it was too unfamiliar an overly familiar feeling.
Aamina's smile settled into something slight and easy to look upon, warm without being overwhelming. "Would you like to know how I'm going to help you?"
Eileen felt her tears fall but refused to acknowledge them. "Yes."
~*~
"-allows that sort of magic around children?"
"Yes, Eileen, but only with supervision. Not just anyone's allowed in the Restricted Section."
"I should hope not," Eileen replied, staring at herself in the mirror of one of the Hog's Head's best rooms, which wasn't saying much.
"I like it." Aamina circled her. "It looks just like me, well, my Pince me. The lady who had the role before us, well, she embellished. When I got the dress, it had three arm holes!"
"She was a Metamorphmagus?" asked Eileen.
"No, just a hag."
"That's unkind."
Aamina giggled. "Sometimes, hags grow appendages in threes-so that they don't starve in the cradle, you see. Brickle's mother was uncharacteristically doting."
"My head is spinning from so much . . . information, Charm Stone notwithstanding," said Eileen, wrapping her fingers around the stone in her pocket that Aamina had given her.
"I don't doubt it, Eileen, but we've got to get things settled very soon, indeed. That said, I'm so sorry I'm only just saying so, but I am sorry for your loss. In spite of everything, it must have been hard, losing your husband."
"It wasn't. He did all the work for me, remember?"
"Of course. I see."
"You don't," spat Eileen. "You're far too cheerful and nice a lady to have seen what I have. Be glad of it."
"You be glad of it," Aamina replied, gently winding Eileen's hair up into a tidy bun. "If I weren't nice, I wouldn't be helping you."
"I thought we were helping each other?"
"You're right," agreed Aamina. She stepped back to survey Eileen. "Right. You now must remember your name. What is it?"
"Same as-wait a minute! Was it you at Hogwarts when I was a student?"
"No, that was the hag."
"Oh," said Eileen. "She was kind to me, too, though her breath was hard to take. What was her name?"
"She never did share that. Hags don't, you know. Their names have power over them, so they take on other ones-but nothing stops them eating raw meat, apparently."
"Was there an Irma Pince before the haggish librarian?"
"You know, I never asked." Aamina's hair began to curl tightly about her head. "Perhaps you could ask Albus one night. He visits the library every day, mostly the Restricted Section."
"Why?"
"The Library of Forbidden Books is through a secret door in the Restricted Section. He thinks we, that is, the librarians, don't know about it, but we each tell our successor everything." Aamina brushed down her jumper, looking pleased with herself. "I've been waiting to share that secret for a while now."
"Because you've been itching to move on?" asked Eileen, who felt she knew that feeling well.
"Exactly. So, you look the part, you know the part-well enough to be going on with-and now, we need to get you to the school, and I need to get, er, home."
Eileen started to find herself in front of herself.
Before she could say anything, Aamina-Eileen said, "Look in the mirror, Irma, and tell me what you think of the charm."
"Circe's tits! I look just like her, you, er, Pince!"
"That's because you are Irma Pince. The charm won't wear off until you want it to-just pass along the stone to the next librarian. For now, Hogwarts' libraries are yours. The safety of Hogwarts is yours. The peace of mind knowing that your son is safe there is also yours."
"Yes, but . . . ."
"Oh, by no means should you tell him, Irma. My Severus, Eileen's Severus-goodness! Severus' Severus-needs to make his own way, now, and you need a period of rest in which you think of no one's safety but your own."
"And the books', the books' safety," Irma-Eileen replied, firmly. "Is . . . is that part of the charm? Is the stone making me feel that way?"
Eileen-Aamina smiled. In truth, the "charm" upon the stone depended a great deal upon suggestion, but suggestion was powerful, and the stone's magic, true. "Yes, it is. The books are your responsibility now. Keep those children's nasty, unclean hands off them. Make them wash!"
They giggled, and that act so startled Irma-Eileen that Eileen-Aamina began tapping her on the back.
"Don't!" Irma said. "Do you want to cripple me, you great git?"
"That's the spirit, girl," Eileen told her. "Take on the role and keep it, and it will keep you safe."
"You'd best be off. Your hair's doing that thing again."
"Thank you, Irma. My best to Albus. Do thank him for his hospitality these last few years-and don't worry about your boy. I've time enough left to sort him out, promise."
"But what about me? How will you explain me?"
"I won't have to, dear. When the time is right, I'll die."
"But . . . ."
Irma's voice left her as Eileen left the room. There was simply nothing left to discuss.
~*~
At Hogwarts, Irma found without surprise that she knew everything about her books, everything about her quarters, her possessions, yes, everything that Irma Pince should have known she did know. As ever, unfortunately, she knew precious little about what to do about Severus, who walked the halls as if a hollow shell of himself. It made Irma's inner Eileen miserable and Irma, angry.
"Anyone would think you a moping Seventh Year, Professor Snape."
"Madam Pince."
"Spiritless imbecile!" she called after him, as he merely continued on his way.
"How dare you speak to my son in that disrespectful tone, you old hag!"
Irma turned, shocked to see Eileen Snape.
"Mam!" called a shocked-sounding Severus.
"Come here, boy. We need to talk. Your father's dead."
Irma turned to see Severus' face drain of all colour, which wasn't an easy thing for him, being usually pale enough for any wraith. "I'm . . . I'm sorry for your-"
"Severus!" barked Eileen.
And then they were gone. Of course, she had said she'd sort him out, hadn't she?
Irma felt shaken; she couldn't think of herself properly. That was her Severus, but she was . . . .
"I'm Irma. I don't have a son."
Her eyes burned, and so did her cheeks, but alone in the corridor, there was no one to hear her weep.
"Stop."
Stop. Stop. Stop. . . .
In the echo of Pince's command, Irma turned her steps towards the library. She knew she couldn't think about it anymore, the fact that she had no son, that her husband wasn't and had never been her husband, that in spite of that fact, she wasn't sorry that Tobias Snape was dead.
"The Traveler."
Perhaps in the Forbidden Library, there would be some information about her, about other Travelers. Perhaps if she dived deeply into the subject of Time-Turners and such like, she'd find clues.
"Perhaps . . . ."
~*~
She barely heard the Headmaster enter her office.
"Merlin's beard, Irma! You've built a book fort!"
"What do you want?"
"Charmed, as always."
Irma did look up, then. Oh, Albus, I'm-"
"Settling in well, I see. Researching the last librarian, are you?"
Irma nodded.
"I hate to disappoint, but I'm afraid there's not much there."
"Did she tell you about herself?"
Albus Summoned a tea tray and a chair and sat down next to Irma's desk. Pouring for them both, he replied, "Hogwarts has many mysteries, always has had, always will have-and sometimes, we are living in tandem with present mysteries we can't even see, let alone imagine. That's the trouble with-"
"Concentrating so much magic in one place." Irma drained her teacup and held it out again.
Chuckling, Albus refilled it. "I was hard on, er, Eileen's boy, I'm afraid."
"I'm not," Irma replied. "After what he did, he deserved it."
"His mother might have been more-"
"If we are to continue to be friends," said Irma, "then you will not pass judgment upon any parent in my presence."
"But why should you care, my dear? It's not as though you were ever a mother, yourself."
Irma inhaled deeply in anger before exhaling in relief. "That's true. That's quite true, Albus, and thank Merlin for that because I'm no more prepared to deal properly with children than you are."
The twinkling dimmed a bit in Albus' eyes, but then his smile became as big a grin as ever Aamina had smiled. "Quite true, my dear librarian."
They toasted each other with their teacups and then settled back to read.
And while the books took them on quite a journey as they read them over many quiet evenings together, of the Traveler, there was never any further sign.