Chapter 1 – The Weasleys
It's Christmas Eve and Rose is spending it with her family; but in truth her freckled nose is buried deep in the book which she holds in her lap.
"Rose, we see each other so rarely, why don't you stop reading and sit with us?" asks her mum, Hermione.
"One moment," answers the girl automatically. She would say anything if it meant that her mother would stop bothering her. She doesn't want to be rude and she loves her family, but she wants to satisfy her recent need for information. Of him.
She feels shivers of excitement running through her body as she traces a thin man's figure on the photo with her finger. It's a wizard kind of photograph, so the tiny silhouette moves. She imagines that the man just leaned into her finger and feels blush creeping to her cheeks.
How would it feel to touch his skin? She's too embarrassed to think of how he would react. She has heard enough of him to know that he would tell her to sod off or something equally nice. She fights down laughter at the thought.
Her father paces back and forth impatiently; she can see him in the corner of her eye. "Harry shouldn't buy her these books in the first place—I mean, she idolized the greasy git in her head already and-"
Her mum rests her hands on her hips, in a pose reminiscent of bossy Molly Weasley.
"Ronald Weasley! I forbid you to call him that horrible nickname! Severus Snape was a decent person and a war hero. You should talk about him with the respect he deserves."
"It doesn't change the fact that he was nasty as hell, called you an insufferable know-it-all, bullied us while he could and our daughter has an unhealthy fascination with him!"
Severus Snape had fascinated her since she was a little girl. Uncle Harry helped this fact, providing information and books about him, and soon the life of a certain snarky professor became her hobby. The older she grew, the more interested she became in a dead war hero.
She should have been bothered that her parents are arguing over her and the fact that she sits like nothing is happening. But only a part of her is paying attention to the raised voices above her head. The rest of Rose Weasley is wrapped in her thoughts.
Soon, the winter holidays will be over and she will have more time for her fantasies and maybe… Maybe she would visit the headmistress and catch a glimpse of his face among the many portraits and his black eyes would meet hers.
She must be patient and act normal. It won't do any good if her father decides to throw out her books. And he looks desperate as he angrily pulls the chair out from the table to sit on it.
"Rose," he calls to her, so she closes the book and smiles.
"I'm sorry father; I just lost the track of time."
A/N: Big thanks to manicrose for beta reading.
My English is still limping :P
Oh and I don't think that anyone suspects me of being the famous J. K. Rowling? I thought so!
