There was a reason Delilah had found herself lurking the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s for a not-so-routine checkup on Aberdeen Spencer. It started with a rather large and boisterous patient who was well into their second month of recovery and was making great progress, until something possessed him to march out of his room, down the hall, and start banging on every door in pursuit of a hunt for someone, until he reached the lift to the next floor. Luckily, Delilah had been checking up on the Spencer’s at that time and so was very aware of the commotion. And before one of the healers-in-training decided to take things into their own hands again and subdue him by hexing, Delilah just walked out the door, got his attention, and through a fancy bit of wordplay and legilimens, fooled him into taking his medicine and going back to his room. 

Of course the ex-auror present seemed to recognize it as legilimens immediately, and through a persuasion of frustration, maternal understanding, and a rogue idea of Delilah’s that this may help Aberdeen recover, the Jamaican witch agreed to teach Aberdeen Spencer Occlumency.

Delilah had made sure that this block of time she had with the ex-Auror would be uninterrupted, and made notice that she would be attending the couple during this time. Once the tall witch strolled through the door, she was happy to see Mr. Adani had taken a suggested outing to the Tearoom, and that Aberdeen was alone. She didn’t need any sort of distractions if she wanted to learn something, and her husband certainly wouldn’t help.

Delilah waved her wand and began to sit down, with a chair pulling up beneath her to seat her, “Are yeh feelin’ well?” she greeted gently, and then stilled herself in the chair and kept her features effortlessly calm and critical when looking on at Aberdeen.

She crossed her arms lazily, and lifted a hand to daintily touch her cheek, “I wan-chyou to sit up straight, but be comfy and relaxed,” she said with the gentle dip of her voice. “Di’ ferst t’ing I wan-chyou to do is to notice when sommbady’s in yer head. Then, when I tell you too, start countin’. Focus on nuttin’ but countin’ for as long as you ‘cin.” Her next movement was simply crossing her legs and moving her hand down to her crossed arms.

She didn’t reach for her wand or scoot closer, she didn’t need to get any closer for her skill, and she thought that any contact between them may prove for a difficult first lesson. So she kept a bit of distance between them, “You readeh?” she asked after a pause.

Aberdeen had glanced up, almost apprehensively, as the door opened. A small part of her-- the scared, insecure part that she only showed to a select few-- had wanted Luke to be there too, but she knew that wouldn't have been a good idea. Luke had taken their puffskein for a walk (as much as one could walk a puffskein) to the tearoom about ten minutes ago. Between the Occlumency training and certain investigative avenues Aberdeen was hoping to look into, it seemed likely Luke would end up spending a lot of time in the tea shop.

' 'Bout as well as can be expected, thanks,' she had answered Delilah's Foley's enquiry after how she was feeling. The initial worry-induced exhaustion had subsided significantly over the past week or so, due in part to having the luxury of productive measures to focus on. If it had been a matter of sitting and doing nothing while her son was in the hands of his biological father, she would have been a wreck. There were beacons shining through the darkness of this nightmare; the attempts to recover her memory, her mental defenses, and her son, with the support of Luke, Akiva, Adon, Colonel Kabir, and now, Delilah Foley. Even before Aberdeen had resolved to investigate Robin's disappearance herself, she had decided that after the Imperius Curse that forced her to kill Gawain Robards, and then the Memory Charm that had stolen away all recollections of Robin, enough was enough. How could she protect the people she cared about if her mind was unguarded against attack?

The answer to that, Occlumency, had come to the ex-auror easily enough, but the issue of finding someone to teach her had been more difficult. So when Aberdeen had found out that the Healer in Charge of St. Mungo's was a practicing Legillimens, she knew it was an opportunity she could not afford to miss. Admitting she was vulnerable and needed help was never easy for Aberdeen, but there was something about the Head Healer that somehow put her at ease. Everything about Madam Foley, from her profession, to her pleasantly lilting accent, to the way she held herself, to her prowess in Legillimency, seemed to Aberdeen to exude a air of being in complete control. And complete control was exactly what Aberdeen strove for.

 She set the book she had been reading (well, distractedly skimming) aside, and sat up straight as instructed. (She had to shift quite a bit to get comfortable; Aberdeen was used to slouching.) 'I--' she hesitated, then said, slightly awkwardly. 'I just want to say... thank you. I owe you for this.' Satisfied that she'd expressed her gratitude, she shrugged her shoulders a little to loosen the tension in them, and nodded. 'Okay, I'm ready.'

Delilah’s stare latched onto Aberdeen’s and she gave one simple indicator of starting, “Tell me when you t’ink feel eet, and wha’chyou think I’m doin’.” Her features did not change, hesitate, or move; a trick she had done with her children time and time again to prepare them for their own training.

Delilah’s thoughts moved like a thin hair and snaked around Aberdeen’s thoughts, just focusing on her immediate emotions and passing thoughts. Apprehension, disappointment, determination, and helplessness were the first in the barriers of defense—then her thread unwound into a stream smoke and sunk past the barriers. An imperious curse and the loss of control, the night of the kidnapping which was nothing but a painful blur that Delilah left alone and passed over—those were not for her to delve into.

However she did continue to sink past that and into disconnected memories, illogical, and irrational and missing a key connecting piece to everything and only filled in with photos, childish drawings, and passing voices only identifying themselves as being anyone but Aberdeen. There was a quick strike and change of thought to something sly and sneaky, a man named Trevelyan and an investigation outside of what it should be and finally everything flashed to a behemoth of silhouette with a long beard and a hand on a small child’s head, and then suppressed and seething hatred.

The healer lightly raised a brow to all of this, wondering if she should be much more forceful and jerk Aberdeen to notice where she was, if she should let the woman realize that on her own, or if she had already focused on the intrusion and simply kept herself silent for her own reasons.

At first, Aberdeen wondered if Madam Foley was going to do anything-- then she realised that a skilled Legilimens would be unlikely to draw attention to the use of their abilities with any physical indication. Quickly understanding that the healer's lack of further communication must mean she had started the exercise, Aberdeen closed her eyes in the hopes of concentrating better. (She'd need to be able to do this with her eyes open eventually, of course, but for now she just wanted to get a feel for how this whole process worked.)

She started to count in her head, as instructed. It was an effective way of focusing her mind away from her thoughts, and the emotions connected to them. She could still feel the thoughts that always hovered at the forefront of her mind, and the thoughts that she tended to push to the back, but she was aware of them more in the same way she was aware of the furniture in the room. She knew they were there, but she didn't pay attention to them. She kept counting.

...11, 12, 13...

She remembered briefly the letter she had written to Akiva, and how she had asked her friend to bring some of Robin's things, to help her remember... But it was as though she saw the thought in her peripheral vision, and she paid it no mind. It was gone in a moment.

...19, 20, 21...

Her mind alighted for a moment on Trevelyan; when would she be meeting him? He had information she wanted, and she had a proposition for him... But that thought, too, hovered just out of her mental line of sight, and she kept her concentration on the numbers, metaphorical ears straining to detect any indication of intrusion... What was she waiting to hear, anyway? Footsteps in her brain?

...26, 27...

Something was starting to feel different. Something the colour of anger was starting to cloud the edge of her mind's eye. A hulking figure by which Aberdeen had learned to define the word 'hate'--

Her eyes opened wide, the look in them fixed, but indiscernable. Even Aberdeen didn't know what she felt right now. It could have been rage, or fear, or resolve. 'You... you found Robin's father in there?' she stammered, tapping her temple with her index finger. It was phrased as a question, but Aberdeen realised this was the most likely reason for her thoughts of  Cináed Tawse to have stirred, however slightly. 'You're good,' she remarked needlessly. 'I buried him quite deep-- well, I tried to, anyway.'

Once Aberdeen found her she stopped probing, and gave a slight nod with a raise of her chin, “Inside yer mind your ordinary senses lie, Don’ trust ‘dem and don’ try an’ look for somethin’ so specific.” She took note of Aberdeen and her thoughts and defenses. “Everyone enters minds many different ways, so you must keep your mind open to anyt’ing and everyt’ing.” Delilah then raised an open hand, reaching for the air in front of her, “Feel yer way fer di’ intruder,” then she closed her hand in a fist,  “‘den shut ‘dem out.”

She settled her arms into a cross again and continued to speak, “I found heem by followin’ yer emotions. You hid your t’oughts but not yer feelin’s, which was an easy trail ta follow.” She gave a nonchalant shrug and added, “Eet’s possible to defend yerself by doing th’ former and not th’ latter, but awkward fer a first time. My children, whenever ‘dey get in trouble, are very good at ‘dat.”

She then returned the topic back to the thought process behind guarding your mind.“Hide everyt’ing, lock eet up, even from yourself. If you dunno wot’s in yer head, ‘den th’ legilimens won’t eit’er.” She said finishing her assessment and advise for the patient, and then moved onto a more touchy topic.

“An’ ‘dat man,” Delilah lowered her eyebrows and narrowed her stare, “dyou t’ink he’s really the boy’s fath-der?” Defining who Tawse was, what he was to Robin, to her, it was all important. If she didn’t know where Tawse stood in her mind then it would be difficult to hide him, and therefore difficult to continue the lessons.

Delilah was also partially curious of him because she did not hold a lot of confidence in a muggleborn or a muggle, however from what she knew, they seemed to have been raising Robin like a proper wizard. Admirable.

Shared blood is a strong bond, but it does not make or break a father. This is not a decision, Delilah thought, that was for Tawse to make, it was for the boy, when he came of age, lest the child is the one who suffers and goes back on the parents—any of them.

Of course there may not even be a choice in the matter for the boy anymore, the law, and the Wizenmagot, was a cold, blank, and cruel thing, that would no doubt be wiped of mercy when Cinaed Tawse stood trial.

Aberdeen absorbed and processed Madam Foley's feedback carefully. Don't treat the mental world in the same way as you would the physical world. Yes, that made sense, it was an entirely different realm. Used to dealing with things straightforwardly, literally, and relying on physical evidence (crime scene investigation had always been her strongest point as an auror), Aberdeen realised she'd need to change her tack when it came to her mental defences. There had been some consideration given to this kind of thing in her auror training, or course, but it had taken a back seat to more practical aspects of the job and Aberdeen had lived to regret this lack of foresight on her part.

Keep your mind open and feel for any intrusion. This would be more tricky to get the hang of. Aberdeen was open-minded in terms of ideas, opinions, sure, but this was something different. She was used to locking her own thoughts and feelings away from the outside world. Sealing herself away for fear of someone getting in, only letting her guard down for a select, trusted few. Opening up was going to feel counter-intuitive, at least initially. It was clear she had a long way to go, but at least now she had a better idea of what she was facing.

Interesting that Madam Foley was able to follow her feelings so easily, Aberdeen mused. Her ability to keep a cool facade was something she took pride in; but just because she could hide her emotions from others didn't mean they weren't bubbling there beneath the surface. Aberdeen very rarely needed to worry about losing control, but while she pushed her feelings far enough back that they didn't reach her face or voice, they were still in plain enough view for anyone worming their way into her mind. Hide it. Lock it up. Aberdeen considered for a moment how there were some feelings she didn't want to lock away; right now, her feelings about Robin were all that she had left of him, with both the child and her memories of him stolen. But those feelings were a weak point in her defence structure. If she wanted to protect Robin-- and she wanted nothing more in the world but to protect Robin-- she would learn to distance her own mind from her emotions. She could do that. She had to.

She was roused from her contemplation by the healer's question about Tawse. Aberdeen, realising she had been staring off into space, focused back on Madam Foley. 'He is Robin's biological father,' she confirmed cautiously, wondering what bearing this had on their lesson.  'For whatever that word is worth,' she added, barely managing to keep the disgust out of her voice. As she spoke, she tried to push away her hatred of Tawse as per the Legilimens' suggestion of hiding her feelings; it was more difficult than she'd thought.

'Robin isn't his, not really. Luke is Robin's real father, not that murderer who happens to have blood in common with my child.' Her voice was dettached, emotionless. Aberdeen tried to mirror her outer facade inside her mind. Put the feelings away. Just see if you can.

Delilah calmly blinked in satisfaction to Aberdeen’s answer in who Tawse was, and her tone of voice, which prompted the woman to delve into the patient’s mind once again. Upon an initial whisp through her mind there was a stronger defense, and no emotions to follow.

Delilah smoothed out her hands on her thighs again, taking a glance at her pastel lime green clothing before regarding the blonde again, “’Dat is ‘di simple part,” Delilah said, raising a thin chocolate hand to Aberdeen, while poking around her defenses to let the witch know her presence in her mind again.

“’Dere’s also…” she lowered her voice a few sour notes, “manipulation.” She started to put on a show around Aberdeen’s defenses and immediate thoughts, of her son and Tawse, without any indication that she was changing topics. “He’s jus’ a chile. Young. Impressionable.” She fluttered some images by of the boy witnessing a few not-so-legal habits of Tawse, and then trying to imitate them. Theft, sneaking about, hate… “If you dun git heem back soon, dere’s no tellin’ what he might grow up to be,” she said fast forwarding the event to create a rather despicable, scruffy, and disgusting wizard dancing on the other side of the law, letting Aberdeen’s imagination fill in the gaps. “Somet’in ‘dat might not be undone.” The witch finished off solemnly.

All the while she was checking to see if Aberdeen remained emotionless, passive, and kept up her defenses or if the witch would cave-in at such horrible thoughts.

There was a faint sense of unease at the back of Aberdeen's mind. She wondered, did they really have to talk about Robin? Why him? It was such a personal matter...

Of course, that was precisely why the topic was on Robin. Madam Foley had figured out extremely quickly exactly how to push Aberdeen's buttons. Oh, she was good, better even that Aberdeen had been expecting. It was a deeply uncomfortable sensation, giving a virtual stranger access to her deepest thoughts and feelings, but in order to get a handle on her mental defenses, it was a necessity. So if Robin needed to be brought into this lesson, so be it. It was fitting, in a way; she was doing this for him more than anyone else.

That didn't make the images in her mind any easier to cope with. Robin, being raised by a purist criminal, by his mother's murderer... Being raised to think that was a normal way to be... The right way to be... Aberdeen felt a constricted sensation of panic starting to numb her brain as she realised she couldn't get these images out of her head. Without realising it, she started to clench her fists.

She thought of what would happen to Robin if they didn't get him back. The thoughts crept to her, unbidden, almost every day. But she would push them away. Because, as pessimistic as she was, she simply couldn't let herself dwell on the worst-case scenario. It would drive her insane. She would focus instead on how to get Robin back.

But that wasn't working now. It felt like she was no longer in control of her own thoughts. Her mental image of Robin was now grown up, and starting to take on the appearance of Tawse, even though, from studying photographs, Aberdeen had always asserted the boy took after his biological mother in looks. And what scared her the most was that Robin, in her mind's eye, had grown up to believe that muggleborns and muggles, like her and Luke, were inferior beings. That he would grow up to hate them. Luke and Aberdeen would always love Robin, always, but if they didn't get him back, he would hate the adoptive parents who had once been his whole world.

He'll hate me... Just like Jairus...

Jairus Valdaine, the father of Robin's biological mother, the man Aberdeen looked to as a mentor... The man Aberdeen had had locked away in Azkaban after he had attacked her when he found out she was a muggleborn. There were tears appearing in the corners of Aberdeen's eyes, and her mouth was contorted with effort. Go away, go away, go away... And suddenly, with complete clarity, Aberdeen knew what would happen to Robin if all this was allowed to happen. He'd go the same way as his biological grandfather, his mind broken by the hate that filled it, sitting listlessly in this very hospital, no longer aware of what was going on... Aberdeen's fists were clenched so tightly at this point that her nails were carving deep grooves in her palms, but she didn't notice the pain, so engrossed was she in the picture-show of her worst nightmares...

'No.' Her protest was aloud this time, in a deep, hoarse voice. She stopped trying to push the awful thoughts away. Her hands were shaking a little. She couldn't make them go away, so she wouldn't try. She would ignore them. Let the carousel of fear whirl through her mind; that's all it was. Fear. It wasn't real... and she wouldn't let it be. She forced herself to meet Madam Foley's eyes, and when she spoke, though her voice was still gruff, there was a steely resolve to it. 'It won't happen. It won't come to that. We're going to get him back.'

She let out a deep breath, feeling as though she was starting to get a headache. She wearily put a hand to her forehead. 'I could've done better on that one, huh?' she mused, her expression still a little pained from her worries about Robin running riot. 'I knew it was going to be intense, but... I guess I didn't know how intense.'

An eyebrow was arched and Delilah tilted her head nonchalantly, “Yes.”

She inhaled a short breath and continued, “Eet’s better I prepare you for ‘di werst,” Delilah wasn’t going to pry as to how much danger Aberdeen might put herself into, but for an ex-auror to be apprehensive, assuming the worst was the least of her concerns. “If luck’s yours, circumstances won’t force ‘dis kind of situation on you.”

“I’m puttin’ you up to a horde of lethifolds…” She paused a moment, wondering if someone in the UK knew what those were, and decided to just use a different example, “dementors—wit’ one patronus.”

“But I’m not underestimating yer ‘problem.’” Whether she was referring to Tawse or Aberdeen’s rescue mission wasn’t made clear, but Delilah wasn’t going to let the Auror loose without the proper means to mentally protect herself.

“And I don’t want-chyou in here again for ‘dis nonsense,” then she swiped hand through the air, “Or di’ morgue.”

Aberdeen allowed herself a brief glimmer of a rarely-used, vaguely sardonic smile. It was barely on her face for a second before it was gone, so it was easy to miss. ‘I can assure you, Madam Foley,  I myself have no wish to wind up a corpse. I’m  not much good to anyone dead.’ I’m not much good to anyone alive either, she couldn’t help thinking, but at least we can do something about that. ‘And I don’t much fancy coming in here again, either. Nothing against your fine institution, you understand.’ The smile that crossed over her expression this time was a slightly more good-humoured one.

‘I do appreciate this won’t be easy,’ she continued earnestly, ‘really I do, and I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to—‘ The former Auror cut herself off a little awkwardly. She didn’t do well bearing her heart on her sleeve, not unless it was with someone she was exceptionally close to. ‘Well. What I mean is, I know I don’t have the best idea of what I’m getting into, but... But I’ll be ready. Make myself ready to deal with it. I’ll adapt.’ There was a soft chuckle in her voice as she added, ‘I’m half-way decent at that, I swear. Couldn’t get far as an—as an Auror if I weren’t.’ Her voice faltered only slightly as she mentioned her old job. Coming to terms with not being able to follow what had always felt like her calling in life was still proving to be difficult.

‘So,’ she pressed on, her voice adopting a more business-like tone. ‘Lethifolds, dementors, whatever I’m metaphorically up against... I want to at least try. At least I have a Patronus.’ A hint of Aberdeen’s signature crooked grin tugged at one corner of her lips.

Delilah listened intentively, instinctively, still tapping her thoughts gently to follow her mindset, until the patient, and student, finished. The Jamaican witch popped up an eyebrow, "And may it guide d'you."

Her gaze gently fell for a moment, and then settled back onto Aberdeen, "It's a first step, acceptance of where yee at and headin'" she said with her lilting accent."

She raised a hand then, tapping her tightly knitted dreadlocks on the side of her head, "'Dere are others, like you though, only varying due to 'di order of nature," She shifted in her seat, rearranging one leg over the other one, "An' it's always making a chaotic mess of effects--hardly regardin' age, class, or fairness," she accented darkly, rolling her front teeth off her bottom lip,  "if you seek fulfillment you overcome obstacles and move on, or..." Her fingers locked together and she swiped her hand from her wrist, at nothing in particularly, hardly thing Spencer needed to be told for the upteenth time the dangers she faced.

"Of course, it's your turn now," She finally looped her arms across her chest again, and tilted her head up raising the tone in her voice as well, "Let's go on a bit further, now that you've had yer break."

Aberdeen watched Madam Foley intently, drinking in every word. She was starting to realise that she wasn't just learning the practice of occlumency from this woman, but also the meaning of it. There was so much more to it than just thoughts, and guarding them from intruders. It wasn't just about knowing the dangers, it was about knowing oneself. And it hurt. It hurt like hell to be confronted with all the things she tried to pretend didn't scare the life out of her if she paid them enough mind. To grapple with the worst parts of herself and what dwelled in the back of her mind. But this was one of those times where it was going to have to hurt before things could get better.

Deep down, Aberdeen didn't really know whether she could manage it. Maybe this would all end up being a waste of Madam Foley's time. But dammit if it wasn't at least worth trying. Aberdeen had overcome obstacles before, after all. They came back to haunt her sometimes, but that was all the more reason to stay strong. And with Madam Foley's help, there was a chance Aberdeen could become stronger. However many lessons it took, as long as the healer was willing to keep teaching her. Anything to keep her enemies out of her head.

Aberdeen breathed out slowly through her nose, then gave a resolute nod. 'All right,' she said, softly but determinedly. 'I'm ready when you are.'