Dolores on the Dotted Line

Severus Snape watched with mild curiosity as the young groups of first years were herded into the Great Hall for the sorting ceremony. This was his final year at Hogwarts, and he could finally concentrate on much more important matters. Lucius shared a smirk with him as they could tell right off the bat which of the children would be sorted into Slytherin, and which would be put in lesser houses.

Certainly not that awkward child that seemed liable to trip over her own feet. She appeared to have had the utter humiliation of being launched through puberty before all of the rest of the girls in her presence. That thing with the perpetual nervous look in her overly large brown eyes would never be Slytherin material. Hufflepuff would probably suit her just fine.

"Dolores Carr!"

Dolores Carr was the child that was currently in Severus's thoughts. She was humiliatingly tall for her age, with long limbs that appeared clumsy. Her hair was straight, long to middle of her shoulders, and sun-kissed light brown. Her complexion was milky and freckles dotted the crests of her cheeks. She still had the formless body, as a child her age would have.

"Dolores...wasn't that the name of the girl in the book that we were forced to read for detention?" Lucius asked.

"Hufflepuff it is. Yeah, the name of the book was 'Lolita'...by some muggle author whose name isn't worth remembering. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four foot ten in one sock. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line...I can't remember the rest."

"But in my arms, she was always Lolita," Lucius finished for him.

"Yes, that sounds about right."

"I wonder if our lord would find pleasure in her..."

"She's a child, Lucius."

"And a Hufflepuff to boot. No doubt she's a disgusting mudblood as well..."

That was the last time Severus ever paid any mind to Dolores Anne Carr for many, many years.

Dolores Anne Carr was, in fact, what is more crudely referred to as a mudblood. Actually, she was half and half. Her mother, a vulgar, but beautiful woman, was a muggle. Her father once was a professor in Durmstrang, but had long since died.

Dolores lived the life of a muggle, raised by her perpetually drunk mother, and she learned of who she really was through the books that her father had passed down to her before he had died.

Flora Carr had raised Dolores, thinking most of the time that her child was mentally challenged. The child rarely talked, but she was by no means challenged. She was just as bright as the average child. When with what few friends she possessed, she was the same boisterous child as the rest, scrapping her knees on the sidewalk, and skipping rope. She slipped into her mute state only when her mother was around.

Flora seemed relieved to find out that she could send Dolores away to school, and out of interference with her drinking binges. Free to bring all the men she wanted home at night, without having to be courteous to the child who slumbered on the pullout couch.

Dolores had been scared to death her first summer away from Hogwarts. Flora had actually gotten alcohol poisoning, and Dolores rode the ambulance to the hospital with her mother. She had watched horrified as they forced the tubes and the charcoal down her mother's throat, her face that ungodly color.

That's when Dolores had started going to the pubs to fetch her inebriated mother when she thought Flora had gotten her fill for the night. It was no easy task, getting into the pubs. Dolores knew at her age, she wouldn't be allowed into them, but she used her height to her advantage. Wearing cropped jean shorts, and halter-tops stuffed with many wads of toilet-paper, Dolores would waltz right into the bars, ignoring the whiskey glazed stares of old men, and asked directly where her mother was. It was always the backroom, and Flora always came home with Dolores as requested, except for one night...

"Look here, it's my daughter, Lola!"

"Mommy, come home," Dolores, whispered, flushing under the heat of the smoky room. Flora was surrounded by several odd men and women, needles and a bit of powdery snow substance on the floor, tiny cigarettes in their hands.

"I will, I will...but you have to do me a favor, Doll." Flora exchanged glances with the other occupants of the room.

"Flor, she's too young, it'll fuck her up," one woman rationalized through her haze.

"Okay now, I will go home with you, and stop drinking for the night...if you snort a line."

"A-a what?"

"A line! I thought you were smart!" Flora gestured to the powder on the floor.

"Flora, just go home with her..."

"Shut up! Now do it...or do you want to see me suffering in the hospital again? Don't you love me, Lola?"

She did love her mother. She just didn't know why.

Shakily she kneeled on the floor, and stared at what she now understood was cocaine.

"That's straight from Colombia, she'll die."

"Gideon! Let her show how much she loves me."

Dolores instantly regretted what she did. Her right nostril felt like it was on fire, and she didn't even realize that she was screaming.

"Bloody fuckin' hell, her nose is bleeding! Take her home, Flora!"

Dolores was sobbing, whilst her mother pinched her nose, and ushered her out the door, laughing hysterically.

Thirty years old, with burnt out mother at her side, Dolores Carr stood at the gates of Hogwarts, fully preparing to be the new muggle studies teacher.

Her muggle job hadn't been doing the trick to support herself, and her ailing mother. Secretary desk job at some piddling newspaper, that's what she, used her Morgan le Fay wizarding college education for. A fucking desk job.

The war against Lord Voldemort was quickening into something quite perilous, and Dumbledore had informed Dolores that her life was in danger, that her family was being targeted. He warned her to take up refuge at Hogwarts, posing as a teacher, as to not look suspicious.

"You look terrified mother," Dolores noted, glancing at the apprehensive Flora.

"I never wanted to get mixed up with your father's world after he died, now I am being launched into it headfirst, and my life is at stake."

"You'd do good to keep your mouth shut about that," Dolores warned, as Filch crossed over the gate, and threw it open.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Carr," he greeted shortly.

Severus Snape was enjoying the last days of summer holiday the best one could, being who he was.

He was currently perusing the list of teachers who were joining them this year. Dolores Carr. He was the one who had warned Dumbledore about the attack on her and her mother. He vaguely remembered the gangly freckled thing that he and Lucius had noted at the beginning of his seventh year.

She was still very tall, and the freckles on her pale cheeks remained. She had grown out a bit in the chest, but not very much. Her hair was longer, but was still the same light brown, and she appeared to have legs up to her elbows. Interesting looking, but not a shocking beauty. She was...pedestrian as they come. A child-woman.

Her eyes met his, and the gaze was quickly cut of due to lack of interest on both their sides. He had heard stories about the infamous Flora Carr, and her little girl who clad herself in the garb of woman to get her mother out of establishments that would not allow her in, had she looked the age she really had been.

Poor Miss Carr, indeed.

"Ah, if it isn't Miss and Mrs. Carr, arrived at last," Dumbledore strode regally over to both woman, with the trademark twinkle in his eyes.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, it's been far too long," Dolores shook his hand, not oblivious to the venomous look that her mother was giving him.

"I remember your husband well, Mrs. Carr. A very good man," Dumbledore complimented Flora, not intimidated by her glances.

"That was a long time ago, and he's dead. All's well that ends well."

Dolores jerked her head at Flora, an angry look on her face. She bit her tongue, however, and gained composure.

"Dolores is all I have left of that travesty." Flora had a way of speaking her mind very brutally. Drunk or sober, her ability to think before she spoke was vastly impaired.

"She's a very worthy daughter. I never recall her being much of a nuisance when she was attending school here." Flora snorted distastefully at that remark.

"What kind of rooms do you have here? I'm wiped out from that joke of a trip. Nasty accommodations the whole way through." Dolores slapped a hand over her forehead, and shook her head. A blush was creeping up her neck to her face.

"Let me find someone to show you to your rooms," Dumbledore offered, scanning his eyes for a volunteer. Severus ducked behind the staircase to avoid the honor. He wasn't quick enough.

"Ah, Severus, would you be so kind as to show these ladies where their rooms are? Take their luggage as well, if you would."

Severus emerged from his hiding place, and plastered a fake smile for the headmaster.

"Of course," he replied, through gritted teeth.

"I don't like it here," Flora announced petulantly, much like a child, as they made their way through the many winding corridors. They were already several stories high, and Flora didn't like the journey up the stairs.

"No one is inclined to care what you think, Mother, a few bourbons and you'll like it just fine."

"That's really nice, and you know I am trying to go sober," Flora replied sarcastically. Dolores gave an exasperated sigh, and rolled her eyes.

Severus had appeared oblivious to this banter, but inwardly he was enjoying it very much. It was plain to see who the adult was in this conversation. Dolores might prove herself to be an interesting colleague this year, he thought, smirking to himself.

Flora would be lucky if she survived her stay without someone hurling her out of the astronomy tower, namely him.

How Thaddeus Carr had survived being married to such a woman was quite beyond Serverus. Oh that's right, he didn't survive, although, Flora was hardly the direct cause.

How long had it been since the publicized death of the Durmstrang teacher? Dolores had to have been at least six years old, if not younger. Severus had been thirteen at the time. It was the first time that news about the illustrious he-who-must-not-be-named, had struck his interest.

"Here are your rooms, ladies," he gestured to the side-by-side doors, after dropping their heavy luggage.

Flora swept into her room without the faintest hint of a thank-you. Dolores gave her mother another exasperated but defeated look, before turning to Severus. He was already gone, hurrying back down the corridor.

Dolores sleepily took in the majesty of her room. The carpeting was plush, and a blood color. The walls matched the carpet in color, and held many various somber looking portraits. They looked displeased to see her. There was a large bay window on the east wall that let the moonlight in with ample amounts. Her bed was king-sized, and four-poster, with a black veil of a canopy draping over it. There was no armoire, or dressers. There was actually a drawer that pulled out from the bottom of her bed, where there was more than enough room to fit her meager amount of clothing.

After unpacking her clothing and other belongings, she lit a warm fire on the enormous hearth that stood north from the foot of her bed. She settled into the great armchair in front of it, and drifted into a deep sleep.

"Come greet me with kisses if you love me," Thaddeus Carr announced, entering five year old Dolores's nursery. Dolores was sprawled on the floor on her stomach, legs lifted up in the air, kicking idly as she was engrossed in a children's fairytale book. She was wearing a light summer dress in pale blue, with white flowers embroidered on the hem. Her summer-tan legs were contrasted sharply with the lace edged socks she was wearing with black and white saddle shoes. She ignored her father's request, and gave him a glowering stare.

"I'm shocked to the very core, Dolores Anne. You're never this cold to me," He took a seat next to her, and read over her shoulder, which was her pet peeve.

"You were gone all winter, and I only heard from you once. That was Christmas, and it don't count because you have to contact your family on Christmas."

"Duty compelled me to live at the school this year, it couldn't be helped." He kissed her on the top of the head, and she merely swatted him away.

"I'm still angry."

"You're still my daughter."

"I bet you don't even know what tomorrow is."

He grinned widely and stood up.

"I most certainly do. It's my little girl's sixth birthday."

Dolores looked up from the book, and turned on her side.

"What do you intend to do about it?"

"I thought a little trip to Paris to let a certain someone pick out the dollhouse she wanted most of all seemed to be sufficient." Dolores's face instantly lit up, and she jumped into her father's arms, showering his face with kisses.

"What a materialistic little wench you are. Does that mean you aren't angry with me?"

"No, no. I was just joking with you!"

"Indeed? Well, I need to bid your mother salutations. I came directly here first, and totally overlooked the fact that the wife has rights to be the first one a husband greets when he gets home."

"She didn't miss you nearly as much as I did," Dolores remarked nonchalantly.

"Really?" He asked, setting her down.

"No, she had my other dads to keep her company."

Thaddeus exited the nursery in a bit of a hurry, heading for Flora's bedroom. Dolores shrugged it off, and began to read again. That was one of the last times she would see her father ever again. They never did get to shop in Paris.

Dolores opened her eyes slowly, the dream/memory fading. She hated it when she dreamt of the same thing over and over again. She was never one to cry out in her dreams, or thrash about so dramatically. She used to, until her mother scared her out of that phase with threats of sleeping in a graveyard on Halloween when the moon was full.

She retrieved a very large white bottle from the top of the fireplace, screwed open the top, and picked out three round pills. She dry-swallowed after popping them into her mouth, and headed off to her bed. Sleeping pills never allowed her to dream. She liked dreamless nights.

"Dolores! Lola...wake-up dammit!" Dolores groaned, and sat up in bed, sunlight pouring in through the bay window. It hurt her eyes. Blocking to oppressive sun from her eyes, she saw her mother standing at the foot of her bed, clad in prim nightclothes. What a sight.

"What?"

"Do you realize that it is ten in the morning? You missed breakfast, and I was nice enough to say I would wait until you woke up, so you would have someone to go to breakfast with. Selfish, selfish girl!" Flora resorted to pouting.

"Well, there is little I can do now to solve the matter. I guess you will have to bare bones until lunch."

"Starve?"

"Mother, I am tired!"

Flora eyed her suspiciously.

"You took the pills last night. Naughty, naughty girl, those are for insomniacs, not dreamers."

"If I get dressed and see if you can have late breakfast, then will you leave me alone?"

"Of course."

"Done deal."

While Flora ate ravenously in the Great Hall, Dolores made a decision that there were more interesting things to do than watch her mother devour greasy foods. Walking up the main staircase, she recalled busting her right leg on it during her fourth year. Banister races were quite the style back then.

Lying down on the third step up, she began to scribble out a lesson plan. She really wasn't made to be a teacher. Perhaps a muggle crime unit would suffice. Fiction and non-fiction. Reservoir Dogs, Fargo, Bonnie and Clyde, and a small investigation of the White Chapel murders would make good subject matter.

She felt a pressure on her calves, and she realized that someone had tripped over her. She winced and looked down at her victim. It was Severus Snape, and he had landed flat on face.

"Stairs are not a very good lounging choice, perhaps the teacher's lounge would be more appropriate," Severus suggested in a low and dangerous voice, before picking himself up, and stalking away. Dolores was prepared to say she was sorry.

Clumsy woman with a vulgar mother, Severus thought, casting a glance into the Great Hall. Wasn't enough that she practically tripped over her own feet every step she took, oh no, she had to have a go at seeing other people fall over her carelessness.

He stepped to the side to let her pass him on her way to another place to work. A disapproving look was shot behind her back as he observed her clothing. That skirt was not appropriate for a working environment, even if it was a holiday. The pressed white dress shirt seemed modest enough, but seemed to have the pretensions of wanting to hide what she didn't even have in the first place. Those damn clumsy legs.

Severus did admit to himself, however, that those damn clumsy legs were probably her most attractive feature. They seemed to go on forever, and were a waste, to be frank, on such an unremarkable woman.

He wondered if she was totally oblivious to the real cause of her father's death. Did she really think he was merely a professor? Did she know why sometimes his job would call him to stay away from home most of the time, or why her house had been placed in such a secure area? Did she realize her mother's stupidity after her father's death might inevitably cause their demise? Abandoning the wizarding world and going off to the vulnerable world of muggles...he never heard of such foolishness. It was almost as bad as Flora denouncing the money that he had left to support his two favorite women after his death, and living as a lush floozy in a cheap old apartment.

Well, thought Severus, she would learn soon enough about how stupid she really was. Hogwarts can only protect you in its embrace for so long. Perhaps Dolores could fight him off for a little while, but not long. She would make a stupid mistake, as she was prone to stupidity just like her mother, in Severus's opinion.

"What are you looking at her for?" Came a voice from behind him. He turned to face the tiny woman that was Flora Carr.

"Curiosity, Mrs. Carr."

"She looks more like her father than anything else. I was always well-endowed, and I never looked boyish in my younger years."

"Those days are gone, Mrs. Carr. What are you trying to prove to me?" He asked, nastily.

"I wouldn't want to prove anything to you, nasty old git..." Flora mumbled, and trailed off, looking for something else that would interest her.