Chapter One Hundred-Three: Of Lilacs, of Love, and of Danger

Author's Note: If you want to see the seating plan for this dinner, it's available on my blog at mmadfan.com. It's in the entry announcing this chapter, dated 28 July 2011.

Chapter One Hundred-Three: Of Lilacs, of Love, and of Danger

Saturday, 3 April 1999

Severus held Aine's chair for her as she took her seat. She looked up at him with an amused expression in her eyes, but she thanked him.

He carefully slid his new book beneath his chair and considered waiting for Poppy before he sat down, but most other guests were already taking their seats, and he did not wish to be conspicuous. She was having a whispered conversation with Pomona about something, and Severus did not know how long she'd be, although since dinner would be served shortly, he doubted it would be long.

"Severus, I don't believe you've met my nephew, Calum O'Donald...Melina's son," Minerva said as he sat down. Calum nodded to him from his place beside Minerva. With his thick brown hair, grey-blue eyes, high, flat cheekbones, and sharp nose, he resembled his father more than his mother, Severus thought.

"Madam Pomfrey has spoken of you," Severus said.

"So you know I'm the black sheep of the family, then?" Calum asked with a grin.

Severus twitched a brief, crooked smile, thinking the man didn't know what a true black sheep was. "Your family all seem rather unconventional."

"They should have expected it of me, then, I guess!" Calum replied. "I'm thinking of becoming more conventionally unconventional, though. Grandad's hopeful I'll join him in the apothecary, and it's beginning to look more and more appealing."

"Have you any training in Potions beyond your NEWTs?" Severus asked.

"Nothing like an apprenticeship, but I've dabbled, and of course, I'd always spent a lot of time in the apothecary as a kid. Not that I think that's a substitute, but . . . I'm not a complete neophyte, either." Calum shrugged. "I also have a Master's in biochemistry, and a Master's and PhD in pharmacognosy, so I think that with a bit of application, I might just manage to learn a bit more about Potions."

"What is pharmacognosy?" Severus asked, ignoring the other wizard's slight self-deprecating sarcasm.

"It's a bit like what Estelle does in Potions...looking to the plant world for new pharmaceuticals. I've worked with an ethnobotanist on finding some promising plants that are used for medicinal purposes by various native populations around the world. In fact, one of our most promising new drugs came out of just such research. We're in the final phase now of getting a new cancer treatment approved, one I've worked on . . ." Calum shook his head as he thought of the time he'd invested. "It seems like forever. But I've been on the project for twelve years, and I have headed it for the last four. Once that's approved . . . there are other projects that I'm heavily involved in, but they could be shifted to others. It may be time for me to make a change. Move on to something different."

"You wouldn't hear that from me when I told you two and a half years ago that your life was moving into a transitional phase, and that you ought to be ready for that," Hafrena said archly.

Calum laughed. "We're always in transition, Professor, aren't we? Besides, my life was quite stable at the time you said that. Almost boringly so. It was hard to credit."

"Hmph. And you claim that going to Muggle schools didn't hurt your education," Hafrena replied, her eyes twinkling. "You'd have known better if you'd taken Divination with me, rather than just had a bit of tutoring from your future sister-in-law!"

"Well . . . I also couldn't imagine what Aunt Minerva would want with me, and you said she'd bring the change into my life," Calum said.

"You worked on the potions for the Headmistress's plan," Severus said.

Calum nodded. "It intrigued me right from the start, the problems she posed."

"Best to leave such conversation for some other time and place," Minerva interrupted, "although I think you and Severus could have a fascinating discussion at some point on your own."

"That's right, Aunt Minerva," Gareth said. "I can't speak for anyone else here, but I would just as soon not talk about the war this evening."

Severus nodded in agreement. That suited him fine...besides, there were questions he would like to ask about the potions and Minerva's plan that were probably best not discussed in such an open forum.

Severus rose slightly in his chair as Poppy came over and took her place beside him to Minerva's right.

She smiled brightly at everyone. "It's so good to see so many old friends all here this evening! How are you, Hafrena?"

"Very well, thank you. Still recovering from the time difference between here and Vancouver...it never feels like the right time for a meal, and I didn't sleep properly last night despite being overtired. I stayed up all day today, though, with no nap, and I'm hoping I'll be exhausted enough tonight to actually sleep soundly."

"When did you get back?" Gareth asked.

"Thursday night. I Portkeyed from Vancouver after lunch, and arrived home at bedtime. I should be used to it by now, but I think it gets worse each year."

"I had terrible jet-lag last time I flew to Brazil," Calum said. "I think jet-lag's even worse than travel by Portkey because the travel itself is tiring and disorienting. It was easier coming back, though. By the time we landed in Heathrow, I was tired, but managed to stay awake until just after dinner. I went to bed, woke up the next day a little earlier than usual, but I was back on schedule in just a day or two. Nothing to it, flying in this direction."

Hafrena chuckled. "You're about a century younger than I am. Wait until you're my age, then try it... jet or Portkey...and you'll be singing a different song."

"Eoghan's been looking forward to seeing you," Gareth said. "The last time I saw him, he said you'd been in Vancouver forever." His voice took on the slightly petulant whine of an impatient eleven-year-old.

Hafrena chuckled. "I'll be visiting them there next weekend. By then, my senses will have realigned themselves, I hope. As it is, I don't know whether I'm catching messages, dreaming whilst awake, or even picking up Muggle radio programmes!"

Aine laughed. "Give me a few minutes after dinner, and I'll see if I can help you with that. Background noise can be very annoying...you'll sleep better tonight if you are well-cleared out, too."

Severus never knew how much of the talk that seers and other diviners had amongst themselves was just show...or self-delusion...and how much was real. But the talk of "background noise" and picking up messages made him distinctly uncomfortable. He'd rather discuss the war.

Glasses of wine and water had arrived on the table while he and Calum had been talking, and now that everyone was seated, bowls of green soup appeared before each guest. Fortunately, conversation moved on, first to remarks praising the tangy sorrel soup...which Severus agreed was quite tasty, despite Minerva's declaration that it was vegetarian...and then to a discussion of the recently eased restrictions on wizarding imports. He had little to say on the matter, since potions ingredients were not among the new goods being allowed in, and it seemed that Calum didn't have any opinions on the matter, either, as he ate his soup silently, listening and nodding.

"How is Janet?" Minerva asked in a slight lull in the conversation. "We were disappointed that she wasn't able to come."

"She's fine," Calum replied, "but both Peter and Zoe are off for the Easter holiday, and Janet had promised to bring them to Curt's parents for the weekend. It will be good for the kids."

Minerva nodded. "I see. How are the children? Peter, especially?"

Calum shrugged. "I think Peter still isn't . . . thrilled I'm around, but Zoe's great, and Janet's had me doing things with the kids on our own sometimes. That's been good."

"Peter will be coming to Hogwarts in the autumn?" Minerva asked.

"If he gets his letter, he will! That's one thing he disapproves of, actually. That I didn't go to Hogwarts. He said to me once that his mum deserved a proper wizard. Then I made the mistake of telling him that that was the kind of talk the people who killed his dad liked. He wouldn't speak to me for weeks after. Couldn't blame him, though. It was a thoughtless thing to have said."

"But true," Poppy said, "and I'm sure that's why it bothered him."

"There are too many children who have lost parents these last few years," Hafrena said with a soft sigh and shake of her head.

"I thought we weren't going to talk about the war," Gareth said.

"Hard to avoid, though, isn't it?" Calum asked rhetorically. "Reminders are everywhere."

Severus had the uncomfortable feeling that the other wizard had glanced at him as he said that, and he knew that he was a reminder for everyone at that table. He didn't know why Albus had invited him. He had enough difficulty socialising with colleagues; this was painful, and not just for him, but for the other guests. He shot a quick glance down the table at Gertrude, who was smiling and nodding at Caspar. There was a witch with good cause to hate him, Severus thought, even if, incredibly, she didn't. And Albus had believed it a good idea to invite them both to a dinner party. There was a fine line between genius and madness, Severus had heard, and he doubted this was genius.

Soup plates were exchanged for empty plates and clean silverware, and three large platters of various kinds of seafood and green garnishes appeared on the table. Each platter seemed to contain the same assortment, and Minerva gestured toward the platter closest to her, and it hovered in front of Poppy.

"We're being informal this evening, Poppy," Minerva said. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like. We thought that rather than serving everyone the same fish, a nice selection would be better."

"And Colleen's averse to shellfish," Hafrena said, eying some lobster tail. "Can't understand that, myself."

"Is she allergic?" Poppy asked with a frown. "That's very rare in witches and wizards, though you do see it occasionally."

Calum deferred taking the platter, instead indicating that his great-aunt should help herself first. "Porry was, remember?" he asked. "Seemed if he sniffed a scallop, he'd lose his lunch."

"Yes, that's right," Poppy said, nodding.

"It is good that scallops are never on the menu at Hogwarts, then," Severus said, "or I am certain that Miss Sefton would try one 'just to see what they were like' and then discover she can't eat them and they make her violently ill."

"We had to take prawns off the menu when Pádraig was a student," Poppy said, "rather as we did with Droobleberries for Suzie. We never had prawns often, anyway."

"Colleen simply finds them unappetising, I believe," Minerva said.

"I do!" Colleen said, having overheard the conversation. "Have you looked at a lobster's funny little eyes? Or seen how slimy clams are? And shrimp! They look like something spawned on another planet, or from the mind of a madman!" She gave a mock shudder. "The way they scurry along!"

"There's some nice fish there, as well," Filius said. "And you may have mine, if you wish!"

Colleen laughed.

"So you and Janet are still pretty serious, then?" Gareth asked as he served Hafrena some of the fish and gave her two lobster tails, not taking one for himself.

Calum nodded, smiling widely. "We are. In fact," he said, turning to Minerva, "she said that even though she's not here, I could tell you our news...we already told Mum and Dad last night, and, well, the rest of the family, everyone who was at the estate last night for dinner."

"I missed news? Why didn't you tell me? I would have come, too!" Gareth said.

Minerva's eyes sparkled. "If this is the news I hope it might be, perhaps you should tell everyone!" Calum nodded, and Minerva chimed her water glass with a quick wave of her wand. "Calum has some news for us!"

As everyone turned toward him, Calum seemed to become slightly nervous, but his smile didn't diminish. "Janet and I will be married this summer."

"Congrats, man!" Gareth said with a broad grin. Others joined in with their own congratulations and well wishes.

Calum accepted the congratulations and told them that all would be invited to the wedding.

"So, when's the event?" Gareth asked. "Going to go the full route and have a binding, too?"

"Hush, lad! Not a thing to be discussed casually like that!" Hafrena said, scolding mildly.

Calum laughed. "It's okay, Professor. I don't mind. It will be some time in late July or early August...before school starts again for either of the kids so that we can all take a trip together. And since Janet had a binding with Curt when they married...sorry, Professor, but it's pertinent...we won't have one. Maybe someday. I don't want to press her about it, and I am trying to respect her feelings and be sensitive about it all. It's been almost four years since he died, but I know that she does still . . . miss him. The kids do, too."

"How did Curt die?" Helena asked.

"Killed on duty," Marjorie Clifton said. "The Death Eater attack on the Tokes. I was there. We lost two Aurors that night."

Severus continued eating, bringing a bite of swordfish in peppery sauce to his mouth, but he hardly tasted it. He had been there, too. The summer after the Dark Lord had regained a body. He hadn't killed anyone that night, but there were two murders he couldn't have prevented, though none of the Tokes had been killed. He ate another piece of fish.

"I am sorry," Helena said.

"Thankfully," Hafrena said, "things are getting better. We can be grateful for that."

"For the time being . . .and for some people," Aine said with a shrug. She glanced down at her father, who smiled as she caught his eye. "And for us," she added, smiling.

"For us, too," Gareth said. "I wasn't sure Mum would ever be able to leave the island, let alone come back to Hogsmeade. It's been a good year for us."

"Indeed, it has been," Minerva added, "although until the vigilante is stopped, there will be a shadow over us all."

"A couple Aurors came by my place this week and asked me a lot of questions," Helena said. "It was weird and a little frightening, actually, when I realised that one reason they were asking them was they thought I might be involved!"

"They didn't!" Gareth said with some indignation.

"Oh, they did, even though they just kept saying it was 'routine' and they were just checking everyone out. They were polite enough, I guess, but the longer they were there, the more nervous I got," Helena replied. "They asked to see my Chameleon Cloak, and I thought they were going to confiscate it or something, but they gave it back."

"They questioned Mum, too," Gareth said, "and wanted to see her cloak, but she hasn't got it here. It was outrageous, if you ask me."

"But in their view, questioning her was a reasonable precaution," Aine said. "If they haven't any real clues about the person's identity, they will naturally question people with reason to hold a grudge against Death Eaters. I would likely be questioned, as well, if I spent very much time at all over here."

"It was a little scary, though," Helena said. "I was worried about alibis. I mean, I live alone, and a lot of those attacks were in the evening when I might have been at home alone."

"I'm sure it was very unsettling for you!" Filius exclaimed. "And you really oughtn't be home alone with this madman running about! You never know whom he might get it into his head to attack next!"

"You know, Helena, you might consider staying at the castle for a while," Minerva said. "It might be safer for you."

"And you'd have alibis," Gareth added.

"I'll think about it," Helena said.

"They should ask you for help, Aine," Calum said. "You could have it sorted, then the rest of us could get on with things without looking over our shoulders every time we go to enter our own houses."

Aine huffed a quick, sceptical laugh. "They'd hardly come to me. You know the sort they like at the Ministry. I don't fit their notion of a seer."

"Casandra Vablatsky, talented as she was, didn't do any of us a service," Hafrena agreed with a smile.

"How's that?" Gareth asked.

"Oh, she was truly talented, you must realise that," Hafrena said. "One of the most gifted seers in many generations. But she was also dramatic. She had a certain flair for dress, and she knew how to charm and bewilder her audiences...she was always performing, wherever she found herself. She also had a great deal of . . . sex appeal, I suppose one might call it, and that gave her an added allure. Now, for the rest of us mere witches, we're compared to her and considered untalented if we don't exhibit any of those traits that so many associated with her."

"And what about the wizards?" Calum asked. "Aine's father's hardly a Knockturn Alley two-Knut fortune-teller, after all."

Aine and Hafrena exchanged glances...Severus thought they seemed amused as they might be of a naive five-year-old's question.

"Yes, of course, dear," Hafrena said, "he's quite talented, too, in his own way. But as you would know if you had paid attention during your Divination tutoring, the strongest seers are almost always women, though there are wizards who have certain aptitudes, and who, especially with the aid of a few tools, can really be fairly . . . perceptive. And there have been a few wizards over the millennia who have been truly extraordinarily gifted, as I'm sure you are aware."

"I'm sure he has a good collection of Chocolate Frog cards," Aine said with a smirk. Calum laughed.

"Do you actually believe you could do something to aid in catching this person?" Severus asked Aine, not caring about the history of divination or whether female seers were innately more gifted than males. "Could you see who it was?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. I could . . . given my particular abilities, I could tell you who it wasn't if I were presented with a suspect. And if given the proper stimuli, yes," Aine said, nodding thoughtfully, "yes, I could say something about the person who committed the crimes. I might even be able to come up with a name, an actual identity...I certainly could if the person committing the attacks is someone I know."

"Proper stimuli?" Poppy asked.

"Brought to the location of the attack, one of the victims present . . . perhaps at the same time of day," Aine said.

"You wouldn't need to be there at the same time of day," Hafrena said. "It would be easier to do it at the full of the moon, in the depths of the night."

Aine shook her head. "Perhaps for you, but for me . . . if the victim were present, having similar conditions to those at the time of the attack would help me to focus on all that was around them; their own focus on that time would be heightened."

"True, you do work well with an individual's resonance," Hafrena said. She smiled. "The student surpasses her teacher."

"Not at all, Hafrena," Aine said.

"So you could say, for example," Poppy continued, "that none of us here at this table were the perpetrator?"

Aine gave a quick, nervous laugh. "You aren't suggesting that you suspect someone here, I am sure."

"No, it was simply an example," Poppy said.

"I could," Aine replied with a decisive nod. "No doubt."

"How would you do that?" Severus asked. He had the sense that whatever divination Aine and Hafrena practised, it was not the sort that was tested on the OWLs and NEWTs.

"There are many ways to See, as you know." Aine gestured at her glass of water. "Here, in this water. Or here, in this sound." She touched the tip of her fork gently to the rim of the glass and it rang softly. "There is meaning everywhere. But to See beyond that, to perceive the detail, the depth, the texture of being, of past and future . . . for me, that requires both more . . . and less."

"More and less?" Poppy asked.

Aine twitched a crooked smile, then she shot Severus a quick look. "Your permission, Professor?"

Severus drew back slightly, unconsciously recoiling. "Permission."

"To look. Just a glimpse. And then to reveal...if I judge it appropriate."

Severus suppressed a snort. More parlour-trick divination...and he had almost become persuaded by the two witches. Then he suppressed a shudder. Perhaps she really could see. He couldn't tolerate that. But Poppy was looking at him expectantly.

"I don't know," he began.

"Perhaps this isn't an appropriate moment," Minerva said, interrupting.

Severus knew she was being protective of him, and suddenly, he chafed at being protected...at being perceived as needing protection. He was sick of being a spy, of living a hidden life. He was a spy no longer, and even if there were certain things he would prefer to keep private, Aine would hardly see those few things in a quick glimpse. And if she did . . . she would know he could be dangerous, and she would not say anything, not then, not in company.

"Or perhaps Gareth or Filius might..." Poppy began, sensing his discomfort.

"No," Severus said. "She knows Gareth. You're cousins. And Professor Flitwick is speaking with Madam Murphy."

"Hmm?" Filius turned his head, having heard his name.

"We were just talking about Divination," Gareth said.

"Ah! A quaint art," Filius said with a nod. "But not very precise." He turned back to his discussion with Colleen and Pomona about their holiday trip to the spa.

"You may look," Severus said, smiling slightly as he looked down into the Irish witch's face, almost smirking. "But beware yourself!"

Hafrena raised an eyebrow and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

"Perhaps later..." Poppy began, putting her fingertips lightly on Severus's arm.

"No," Severus said. Whatever Hafrena was shaking her head about, whatever she might think imprudent about it, he was not going to be a coward. Poppy had said that Aine possessed discretion, that the MacAirts had an old-fashioned sense of honour; and although he didn't know the witch personally, he felt nonetheless that, after having read so many of her books, he knew something of her character. And she had shown loyalty and personal sacrifice when she gave up her life as a witch to care for her father. He would show Poppy that he did not need to hide any longer. "Proceed," he said to Aine with a nod. "Look as you will."

She did not touch him, as her father had done that time on the stairs, and despite her reference to hydromancy, she did not use the water glass, either. Instead, she looked at him, through him, her gaze seeming unfocused, not even gazing at his face, and yet Severus could feel light tickles of magic, wispy tendrils just brushing by him. Aine's lips parted, and her cheeks flushed in the candlelight; she seemed to sway slightly in her chair, an almost imperceptible oscillation, forward and back. The table had gone quiet, everyone drawn from their conversations and their food, attending only to the slight red-haired witch's divination. No one noticed when the plates and platters vanished and were replaced by the next course. All was still as Aine's own stillness grew, her gaze unblinking as she looked into the beyond where Severus's past and future lay.

Suddenly, Aine straightened, blinking, and looked up at Severus, a peculiar expression, half frown, half smile, on her face. "You have much violence about you, Professor, and much death, though that would not be news to any here, but you are not the vigilante."

Severus snorted. "Hardly divination to say that."

"What would you have me say here, then, at this table?" Aine asked softly. More softly, she said, "There is . . . ahead . . . what you would not wish to know. A complex of paths, myriad possible outcomes. Do not step backward, Professor. Do not return to your past. Stepping on that path may lead you into a maze from which you will not emerge."

Severus scowled. He would hardly turn back into the past: all he wanted was to escape it, or at least live a life free of it.

"Beyond that . . . you are much-loved," Aine continued, still softly. "You have around you great love, Professor, and even from some here present. And your love . . . do not let your own love move you to violence. It is there that your path becomes fraught with danger. Do not despair in your anger and jettison your future, jettisoning all that you value and hold dear. Do not lose your way."

Severus snorted.

"And you still wish more?" Aine said, cocking her head. "You know the person who is committing these attacks, and you will learn her identity."

"It is a witch, then?" Minerva asked quietly.

Aine blinked, turning her head toward Minerva, slight surprise on her face. "It is. A witch. A witch in pain."

"What else do you see?" Severus asked. "Who is she?"

Aine shook her head. "I can say no more, only that you will . . . discover her."

"How? What should I do?" Severus asked.

Aine shook her head again. "You cannot do anything yet. You must wait. Events will follow in their own time."

Severus sneered. "You say nothing that is new, and nothing that is useful. You could be a Muggle fortune-teller reading tea leaves."

"Then I will tell you this: lilacs are for springtime, for the birth of new love, and for your own true love, the love you found that was there before you, the love that drives you forward, that gives you hope, and that may tempt you to despair. Your love is your springtime, and your love will be your life . . ."

Severus grew pink as Aine spoke. "Still, nothing," he said dismissively, embarrassed now by the gazes of those around the table.

"In the past, a dark witch held you in thrall," Aine continued. "This dark witch of black heart . . . she wishes to reach out to you, even now; in madness she lives, and in her madness . . . another is ensnared."

Severus's jaw grew tight. "Enough."

"'Twas but a glimpse, Professor, a mere glance. Little depth, little texture, little detail." Aine smiled. "One more thing...be careful this week. You will cause an accident, but do not worry. Simply act quickly, and all will be fine!"

Severus restrained himself from rolling his eyes as the others returned to their meals and their conversations. Trelawney could have done as well, he thought. Though the bit about the lilacs . . . He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Poppy, who was asking Minerva about the aubergine dish they'd just been served. He had given her lilacs, and she certainly was his love, his true love. He mechanically chewed a mouthful of the spicy aubergine, looking from Minerva to Poppy and back. He loved Minerva, but Poppy . . . Gods, Poppy, what she could do to him! And how good it felt to be with her. He loved her in a way he had never experienced before. Any other emotion he'd had in his life seemed pale and insubstantial in compare.

Across from him, Gareth was smiling, eyes shining as he and Helena discussed flying in the mountains...real mountains. He had flown in the Alps, and she in the Rockies. Her face was animated as she nodded in agreement, speaking of the wonders of sheer cliff faces, pure white snow, and icy air. They seemed to speak almost on top of one another, not interrupting, but in tune somehow, their words skipping and dancing between them. Severus smiled slightly to himself. Perhaps Gareth and Helena would hit it off, after all.

There was another whom he loved, Severus thought, looking at Gareth, who seemed even more handsome in his animation. A wizard who should hate him, but who did not. It was hard for Severus to believe, remembering the pain and isolation of the previous years, which had grown only worse as Potter arrived at the school and then the Dark Lord returned; it was almost incredible to him that not only was he loved, but that he had any capacity at all for love himself. He swallowed his aubergine and averted his gaze from his contemplation of Gareth, returning to concentrate on his meal.

There was a light touch on his right elbow. He looked over at Aine.

"I am sorry if I embarrassed you, Professor," she said softly.

"Mm." He shook his head.

"I do wish to say one other thing to you, but not, not here and now," she said, her voice dropping further. "After dinner."

Severus twitched a shoulder, feigning boredom. "If there is a moment."

Aine nodded. "You know, what I wrote in your book, it is truer than I imagined. You could best Trajan Tyne in any duel. You could best almost anyone...if you had your wand at hand." She quirked a smile and winked at him, whispering, "But perhaps not Dumbledore, regardless of whether you had your wand or not."

Suddenly, Severus smiled and shook his head, laughing lightly. "You do save the best for last, don't you? Or the most convincing."

"You didn't want that given away...I believe only two here know of it, other than you and I, of course. Or am I wrong?"

"No, not wrong." Severus cut through an aubergine slice and a tomato. "All right. After dinner. We will speak then."

Aine nodded. "We will."

"You knew that, of course," Severus said, a smirk crossing his face.

She grinned. "Of course."