A/N- A second chapter for today, I'll go until I run out of steam. Standard update days of Sundays and Wednesdays apply.
In note to the dialogue used where ASL would go in, there is a standard grammar that follows very different structure rules in ASL. Those grammar structures will not apply, for the sake of easier reading and continuity of characterization and flow. Fancy way of saying … Elizabeth's attitudes are more aptly portrayed with traditional English grammar structure, and although informal conversation in ASL in reality often drops smaller words for the sake of speed, as well as relies on a different basic sentence structure depending on context. I'm not going to do that. Additionally, it should be noted that there is BSL, the British Sign Language which would normally be used in that area, it is notably more difficult for users than ASL. And my familiarity is with ASL, the lead character is American, she also uses ASL. BSL is something of a beast.
Snow
The Sound of Silence
Chapter Three
Elizabeth furrowed her brow as she gripped the Portkey. Beside her, Hermione Granger wore a grin as she released her grip on the battered converse sneaker that had seen better days. Elizabeth gazed around herself, staring in open wonder. She'd never seen a proper wizarding village before. Nothing like the cozy underground shops beneath Seattle's historic district that marauded as a tourist destination on the surface.
She wore a grin that matched her apprentices, though for an entirely different reason. The village of Hogsmeade was an entirely foreign experience to her, and above it on a hill sat an honest to goodness castle. The Headmistress of the school had mentioned it was a large castle, but Elizabeth hadn't expected it to appear to be the size of a small city. She leaned on the end of her upturned trunk, clutching the sneaker to her chest as she simply stared, awestruck by the suddenly real change she'd made. Hermione tipped her head to the side, her fingers flying in obvious delight. "Beautiful, yes?"
Elizabeth breathed out the words, unable to stop herself. "Absolutely breathtaking. It's like a fairytale." She knew the words were low, a glance toward Hermione leaning a bit closer to hear brought a flush to her face. Elizabeth cleared her throat and straightened, awkwardly clutching the shoe in one hand as she switched to her more comfortable medium. "Where do we go from here?"
Hermione lifted her eyes toward the castle in the distance and Elizabeth grinned, breaking out her wand and propping it on her shoulder, one hand sweeping out to indicate that Hermione should lead the way. The walk was quite pleasant, if the wind was a bit brisk. There was no shortage of views, that was a certainty. Elizabeth found herself entranced each step of the way, the clean, crisp air testament to just how different this place was from the bustle of the city she was so used to, where she'd spent her entire life. Muggle born and raised, she knew there was a difference here, knew what she was up against. The entire wizarding world had been set on its head by the events that had unfolded here, in this very spot, little more than a year before. Elizabeth cocked her head to the side, a rustle of wind capturing her attention as an owl shot past her head.
When they arrived at the gates of the school, McGonagall herself was there to greet them. Elizabeth didn't bother suppressing a grin. The older woman was dressed in dark green robes that brushed the tops of practical, low heeled boots. Her smile was warm as she embraced Hermione and in turn, extended a hand toward Elizabeth. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Connell."
Elizabeth offered her a hesitant smile, once more struck by the enormity of the task she was undertaking. An older man, one who looked sullen and age worn appeared seemingly from nowhere. The Headmistress spun to face him, giving a smile of recognition. His lips were not so easy to read, in fact he barely moved his mouth when he spoke, and Elizabeth felt a bolt of nervousness. Beside her, Hermione began to sign, as though picking up on her discomfort. "This is Mr. Filch, the caretaker. He'll be showing you to the cottage so you can settle in."
She relaxed as she flashed the man her best grin, inclining her head a bit. To her surprise he gave a slight smile, though he jerked his head in the direction of the path that diverged off into the woods. Elizabeth's gaze flicked back to Hermione in question, only to be met with and encouraging nod and the words signed quickly. "Mr. Filch is going to take you to the cottage now, and then you'll walk floo directly to your office in the castle before dinner in the Great Hall tonight."
Understanding dawned, and with it gratitude. Elizabeth aimed her next words toward the Headmistress, ignoring the obvious stared of confusion from the man called Filch. "Thank you. Very much. I'll see you both then."
She trailed after the man, her hands tucked snugly into her pockets. Her trunk was nowhere to be seen, but from what she guessed, that didn't bother the weathered old man who resolutely steered her along the path for nearly twenty minutes before coming to a halt in front of a faded wooden gate that had seen better days. Elizabeth knew that there were two kinds of cottage in the world. There was the 'cottage' like her aunt had, the kind of vacation home that was so large that one could get lost for days without ever laying eyes on another occupant, and then there were cottages as the rest of the world knew them to be. This, was definitely the latter. Cozy was a good word for it. Damn small was another. Charming was the one that leapt to mind first.
As the entered the gate, her eyes sought out the little building, tucked ever so neatly on the back side of a lake, a small stretch of rocky bank on the back end, just barely visible from where they stood. The front garden was a tangle of weeds and bushes, as though hastily trimmed back, and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile. The tiny cottage was suitable well within walking distance of the school, though the floo would undoubtedly be working per McGonagall's words. Elizabeth watched her guide for a moment, unable to understand so much as a single word he'd babbled, and even now she merely nodded politely before he left, making her way to the door.
On entry, the word small didn't even begin to describe what she was looking at. Miniscule. Teeny. It was perfect. Elizabeth grinned as she lifted a hand to unhook the travelling cloak she wore, more a bending to formality than any real need for warmth. There was a chill in the air, the temperature was not that different from Seattle. She hung the cloak on the peg by the front door, catching sight of the longer black one beside it. Obviously, she was not alone. She relaxed marginally, glancing around herself before leaning forward to sniff the cloak experimentally. The scent of sandalwood greeted her, along with the faint tinge of smoke lingering on the wool. Elizabeth frowned faintly before her lips curved into a smile. It was the cloak of someone who dealt in Potions, or had recently. She didn't call out, but instead seized the few moments she had alone, making a slow loop around the main floor of the cottage. It was one open room, a large hearth dominating one wall and a miniscule kitchen along the other. A desk sat on the other side of the room, tucked beneath a bookshelf that was filled to capacity. Piles of books littered every available surface and for a moment she wondered if there would be an place for her to work, and prayed her bedroom would have at least a bed large enough to spread out on.
The tiny dining table, only large enough for two, was on one side of the center post that supported the interior of the cottage, a battered brown velvet sofa on the other side. It wasn't fancy, and she'd been warned about that, but it was private. And most importantly, from the light switch that she'd found on her entrance, it had electricity, despite the oil lamps that were scattered around the room.
Elizabeth spun in a slow circle once more, gleaning what she was able to from the clues left to her, attempting to sort out what she was able about the mysterious owner of the yummy smelling cloak. Male. Obvious. No female was that tall without being half-giant and those were mostly legend. She thought. Avid reader. Perhaps that meant he was quiet. Not that it mattered really. Smart. That had been a copy of Most Potente Potions she'd spied on the top of one of the piles on the desk. Neat? Elizabeth cocked her head to the left, then to the right. Absolutely not. Her eyes trailed to the stairs once more and she put her absent roommate from her mind, making her way up the stairs. The tiny landing consisted of only two rooms. One had the door tightly shut and the other stood open. Her head cocked to the side as she found the note attached to the open door and reached for it. The spidery handwriting was as terse as the words.
The Headmistress has informed me of my duties to see to your comfort and safety. It is in the best interest of both of us to observe the following rules during our time cohabitating.
Elizabeth's lips quirked as she leaned against the door frame. Bossy. The roommate was definitely the bossy kind. Joy. She continued reading, not even bothering to stifle a grin.
1) Do not disturb me when I am working. Ever.
2) Do not wake me when I am sleeping. Ever.
3) Do not expect me to share my meals with you on the rare occasion I cook. Ever.
4) Do not expect me to clean up after you in either the loo or the kitchen. Ever.
5) Do not knock on my bedroom door. Ever.
6) The desk downstairs is mine.
7) The couch downstairs is mine.
8) The books downstairs are mine.
9) You may use my kettle without asking, however if you break it, you WILL replace it.
10) The blue crockery and dishes are mine. Do not touch them. Ever.
11) I wake at precisely half-five each morning and retire at precisely half-eleven each evening, unless I have hall monitor shift. Between these hours, do not seek me out. Ever.
12) Bi-weekly patrols will be completed in silence when possible.
13) I have devised a schedule for the sharing of the lab in the cellar. It will be strictly observed. You may find this attached.
14) Do not go into my bedroom. Ever.
15) No loud music. Ever.
16) No gentlemen callers are to be entertained overnight. Ever.
17) In fact you are to have no gentlemen callers. Ever. Except for Flitwick. He's harmless.
Elizabeth stared at the words her lower lip quirking as she reread the list. Blue… dishes… off limits? Okayyy. It seemed the roommate was a bit high strung. This was getting more daunting by the minute. She glanced back toward the closed door for a moment before lowering her eyes to the page once more.
I am not certain what muggle technological requirements you have for daily living, but be aware, Madam, that I have my own requirements. Silence being one of them. Observe this rule strictly and we shall have no trouble cohabitating. Welcome to Hogwarts.
Regards,
S. Snape
Deputy Headmaster
He may as well have tacked a nail over her head with a neon sign listing his disdain for the arrangement. But the sight of the signature explained a great deal. She was, by nature, a curious person, and to know that behind the door beside her lay the man who was known as one of the most brilliant Potioneers of the wizarding world… and that he had such harsh words for someone he'd never met… it was a bit startling. Disappointment filtered in and she stepped through the open door to find her bedroom. It was comfortable enough, a double bed and a small desk beneath the window. The window gave a perfect view of the castle in the distance. And Elizabeth didn't bother to suppress a smile. It would be damn cold once winter came, given there was no fireplace and no other visible sign of a heat source, but it would still do.
Her trunks were stacked neatly against the wall waiting for her, but she put the though aside and pushed her door closed and made a beeline for the desk, taking a seat at the stiff-backed little wooden chair. Severus Snape had welcomed her so warmly to Hogwarts with his list of rules, it was only fair she write a thank you note… after all, a thirty year old woman did not live as a single-something in the wizarding world for long without a backbone and the means to stand her ground. She rummaged in the desk, blessing the thoughtful soul who stocked it with a variety of inks and parchments and quills, and drew out what she'd need and began to write.