Rose was a terribly clever and awfully sneaky girl. She was intrigued by this Professor Snape. As her mummy had told the professor about her daddy she had heard nearly undetectable hisses that reflected his obvious dislike of her daddy.
Truth be told, Rose would not admit she did not like her daddy, but he always disappointed her.
Wriggling, Rose shifted carefully, and moved until she was able to slip off the sofa. Professor Snape had made the flames in the fireplace glow very brightly so she had a very good view of the sitting room.
Like their own home the professor had a lot of books in shelves, and on top of shelves. He had more than mummy did. Rose glanced unhappily at her mum. Mummy had cried so awfully when she came home from work months before daddy had moved out and she discovered that daddy had sold a lot of her books. It had erupted into one of the many arguments they would have on a daily basis. Rose had hidden in her bedroom, but the walls were thin, and she remembered daddy saying that he had some debts to pay and if mummy wasn't going to give him the money then he had to get it another way. Daddy had then called her mummy one of the bad names and left, slamming the door.
Rose could not help but cry herself silently as she listened to her mummy cry.
The professor better not hurt her mummy. Rose vowed to kick him with her hard-toed, shiny Mary Janes if he did. She would bite him, too. Her little teeth were really sharp.
Rose tip-toed into the kitchen which she did not get a chance to look at earlier. It was painted sunshine yellow on the lower half of the walls, and on the upper half was wallpaper of bright sunflowers. Rose grinned, and let out a little giggle. One of her favourite artists was Vincent Van Gogh and he had painted some of the liveliest sunflowers she had ever seen.
The linoleum floor was dingy from age, but it was clean. The stove was interesting, though. It was a very old-fashioned looking stove of black iron. It was well used and Rose guessed that it was where the stew had cooked. She rubbed her tummy, and sighed happily. Professor Snape was a better cook than both mummy and daddy. Mummy did try but it was never that good. And, she always burned the toast! How could anyone burn toast?
The refrigerator looked old-fashioned, too. She walked over to it and grabbed the handle to open it. Electricity did not keep everything cold. It was magic. Rose rather liked that. Mummy was always insisting on using electricity in their house, but it always died. Mummy could not use a computer because her own magic made it go funny.
Mummy and daddy argued a lot about mummy's "Muggle stuff".
Hearing her tummy rumble, Rose grabbed the container of milk with both hands and carried it over to the two person kitchen table. She then went back to the open refrigerator, and grinned when she saw there was fruit compote left. Mummy had never made anything like that! That container joined the milk.
Rose closed the refrigerator and then realized her first problem with her late night snack. She did not have a glass for the milk, and mummy did not allow her to drink from the milk bottle. She quickly inspected the cabinets under the kitchen counter and only found pots and pans, and cleaning chemicals. Craning her neck she looked up at the cabinets that were over the counter and quite out of her reach.
Her tummy growled again. And, she was really thirsty.
Her lips thinned, and her brow creased in thought. Normally she was supposed to wake up her mummy if she got peckish at night, but they were not at their house. This was Professor Snape's house, and it was his food. Making her decision she hoped he would not be mad at her. Mummy had told her that the professor used to work with children, so he might understand.
Leaving the kitchen Rose slipped through the fire warmed sitting room and over to the steps where she had glimpsed the professor ascending. She hurried up them quickly and only with the silence a little girl easily could manage. Once up the stairs she was in a long and rather dingy hallway that was lit only by one low burning candle in a wall sconce. There were four doors, and all were closed. Two to each side of the hall.
Rose crept up to each door and put her ear to each one. Three were silent, but the fourth door, near the end of the hall, had sound. She could hear soft pad of pacing. Straightening, Rose took a deep breath, and then knocked on the door.
It was almost a whole minute before the door was cautiously opened by the potions master. Before Rose could say anything, her tummy rumbled for a third time.
Author: etherian
