Unexpected Meeting (Rasalas Jones, open)

[Severus Snape]

"Indeed not," the professor responded to his daughter's words. He did know why she was here, but he wished that she had told him before she skipped classes; he could have talked to her professors about the situation. They were remarkably understanding when it came to things like that, especially if Snape himself had chosen to get himself involved. The two of them could have gone to the cathedral together, and Sam would not have gotten into the trouble that she would, now.

Catching a passing wait-wizard, Snape ordered a butterbeer for his daughter. The look he gave her plainly said, Drink it. Not for me, but for your mother. She would have wanted you to have something, especially today. He basically transmitted the thought, allowing Sam through his usually impenetrable walls. At this point, they were so natural that he didn't really think about the walls unless he was lowering them.

Yes, at this point, he knew that his daughter was ... basically a walking skeleton, which was actually another reason he was out, today. He was going to visit an old acquaintance of his, a Wizarding psychiatrist who he'd heard was quite good. He was going to be making an initial appointment for his daughter. Quite frankly, he was at a loss for what to do; having Sam see that Eloise Clarke was the only thing he could really think of, at the moment, to help her.

That and offering his support for her to get well. There was no way that Snape was going to allow his daughter to slowly kill herself, any more than she already had. He had to make everything up to her; the years of being rather a cold father, her mother's death, not noticing what she'd been going through until recently; he had to make all of it up to her. And hopefully, Dr. Clarke would help with that.

"Miss Jones, this is my daughter, Sam. Sam, this is Miss Rasalas Jones," he said, giving the proper introductions.

[Samantha Snape]

Sam stiffened slightly, but said nothing as she listened to her father's thought. Making completely sure that she didn't react at all, she all but literally tried to force her replying thought through her father's walls. Alright, fine. Just don't expect anything else - not even for Mother. She knew she sounded rude, but couldn't completely bring herself to care. As was custom, she hadn't eaten anything for two hours before taking Communion, and therefore she hadn't eaten anything at all today. Normally, she would have at least had a small something for breakfast, but not today. As such, the hunger was making her a bit more irritable than normal.

Keeping her face expressionless, she nodded to Rasalas. "I know Rasalas, Father. We may have been a few years apart, and in different social circles, but I do know her." That she had said so much, albeit in her usual neutral tone, to/about someone she didn't know very well attested to the fact that she felt a tiny bit more comfortable around Rasalas, though only because the older woman had been a Slytherin as well. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins were very loyal - though, they were also very choosy about the people they were loyal to, and so they had gained the reputation f not being loyal at all. That was fine for most of them; it just meant it wouldn't be expected of them when the could or would not give it.

Nodding to Rasalas' offer, the tall redhead scooted the chair behind which she was standing out just a bit. Settling herself into it, the Chaser found herself reminded of her recurring dream - rather, her recurring nightmare. And that, in turn, as this day had all through Mass and her Confession afterwards, put her in mind of her mother. And that, in turn, reminded of her of an old lullaby her mother had always used when she was scared to go to sleep. Unbeknownst to the young woman, a slightly soft expression came onto her features, as her gaze seemed to drift off into space. Murmuring the words, she was all but unaware that she was speaking Gaelic now.

"Codladh sámh, mo uaineoil bán,
Codladh domhain, mo ghrá milis,
Luigh go ciúin sa chliabhán,
Dún do shúile,
Mo pháiste dílis.

Réaltaí geala anocht ag luascadh sa spéir,
foraoise fuaimeanna
Ceoil san oíche agus;
Saoire do chur ar ceal ag caoineadh,
Níl aon ghá le sé níos mó..."

((English translation, fir anyone cares...
Sleep peacefully, my white lamb,
Sleep deeply, my sweet love,
Lie quietly in the cradle,
Close your eyes,
My faithful child.

Bright stars tonight are rocking in the sky,
Forest sounds
And night music;
Leave aside your crying,
There is no need for it anymore))

[Rasalas Jones]

"Yes that might be why I never knew you were his daughter." Rasalas said quietly, the girl didn't seem at all happy. She stood up with a slight smile, "I will be going now, professor. I will write to Professor Dumbledore about that job." She really didn't want to be caught in the middle of a family dispute or whatever was going on. But if they objected of her leaving then of course she would stay. She started to leave when she heard the girl start to murmur some some. She stopped to listen to it, she wondered what the words meant and what language it was.

She sat back down as she listened to the girl, it was a beautiful song. She glanced at the professor hoping he didn't mind that she didn't leave. She was worried about the girl's life and she was worried what went through the girl to make her think she needed to do that to her body.

She bit her lower lip as she tried to think of something to say to her or her old professor. She wondered if he would still call her by her last name if she got the job at Hogwarts.

[Severus Snape]

The man did not respond to his daughter's transmitted thought; there was nothing he could say to it, at this point. He could not personally do much about her illness; he had no idea what to do, regardless, but he couldn't just ignore it.

Hopefully, having a butterbeer would remind her that food could be enjoyable and start her back on the road to being the beautiful young woman she had been before this ... mess. Of course, he didn't expect one butterbeer to turn the tide, but hopefully, it would at least help.

As Sam sang the lullaby under her breath, Snape's own features softened at the memory of Ciara. "I miss her, too, Sam," he murmured, reaching across the table to place his hand over his daughter's in a rare show of physical affection. He was just full of rarities today; he wouldn't normally admit that he missed the woman who had been his wife in all but name.

But today was a day for remembrances. Perhaps he would go to the cathedral himself, after this, and remember Ciara. They had gone together a few times, but it wasn't the regular thing that she had wished it would have been. He should have been there for her more than he had been, he knew that now. And he regretted that he hadn't been around as much as he should have.