Shelter From The Storm
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Chapter Twelve:
Rose spent Christmas Eve bickering with Gabriel, or debating Charms and Transfiguration theory with Remus and later, Sirius. She spent a brief amount of time with Alastair, talking shop, but Jean was quick to disrupt such conversations, and inevitably, she would wind up, once again, verbally sparring with her pseudo-brother, and/or the two men who should have been uncles to her.
"You're so much like them," Sirius rasped.
They'd been left alone briefly, Alastair headed out for some last minute Christmas shopping, Jean to the kitchen. Gabriel had dozed off on the couch, and Lupin had returned to Hogwarts, and between the pair, the silence had been awkward.
She watched as his gaze turned distant, and Rose tilted her head, curious.
"You look like Gwyneth. That fire however… that's all James and Lily." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were sad, almost wistful. "It's uncanny."
Gwyneth Potter, formerly McKinnon, was her paternal grandmother. She'd married Julian Potter in 1957, and from the little Rose had heard, her namesake had been beautiful, and gracious, and the embodiment of aristocratic poise, grace, and loveliness.
As it happened, Gwyneth Potter, though not nearly so fanatical as to support Voldemort's cause, had very much been a pureblood elitist. James Potter hadn't been, and neither had Julian, but regardless, the revelation had been jarring, and Rose had been disillusioned.
"What's your favourite subject?"
Perplexed by the apparent non-sequitur, Rose frowned, but replied, "Transfiguration and Arithmency, I suppose."
Sirius nodded his acknowledgement, but didn't pursue the topic further. Instead, he cast his gaze out to the street beyond the window, and Rose supposed focus would be something difficult to come by after twelve years in Azkaban.
"Why were you so determined to see me freed?"
"With my parents' will finally unsealed, and you as a convict, my guardianship was in question. The other possible candidates are either dead, incapacitated, or in the case of Professor Lupin, legally 'unsuitable', and I wasn't willing to risk my safety in the hands of the Department of Wizarding Children's Services.. That's why I looked further into the doubts about your conviction. I couldn't understand why you were trying to break into Gryffindor Tower, and besides that, I didn't want to end up the ward of Lucius Malfoy, or someone like him."
"Understandable," Sirius acknowledged, "And very ingenious, too. I'm impressed."
Rose smiled her thanks, and behind Sirius, she watched as Jean shuffled into the room, tea tray in hand. Rose got up to help the woman, and set to the task of pouring everyone each a cup of tea with practiced motions. It had been a regular task of Rose's back on Privet Drive, and she thought the skill was one she'd have until the end of her days.
"Rose is very intelligent," Jean said, having heard the last of their conversation, "The top of her year, in fact."
"I wouldn't say that," Rose averred, "Hermione…"
"You don't believe me, Guinevere?" Jean challenged, "I can show you your end of semester report card, if you like. You're ranked 1st out of 48."
Surprised, she sat back in her seat, floundered for words to say, and eventually just nodded her acknowledgement, and returned to her task.
"All of their intellect, and all of their talent," Jean told Sirius quietly. Rose pretended not to hear. "She'll be remarkable when she's older, Sirius. Merlin, she already is."
"That's no surprise," Sirius answered. "I knew when she was born that she'd be exceptional one day." He paused. "Her eyes were green."
Rose frowned to herself. Most caucasian babies were born with blue eyes. When they weren't, they were more often than not born with brown eyes instead. It was rare that any other colour was seen, and therefore, it was no wonder he'd thought she was a special baby.
She just… didn't think she could live up to their expectations.
Rose offered them each their teacups, settled back in the armchair she'd appropriated as her own, and turned her gaze to the window. The snow that had fallen overnight had turned to slush on the road, but there were kids playing in the street, garbed in winter wear to fend off the cold, and apparently having the time of their lives.
"I saw your game against Hufflepuff," Sirius began conversationally, "You're an excellent flyer."
Rose smiled sardonically. "Not my finest moment, I'm afraid."
"I don't know many people capable of flying in weather like that," Sirius argued, "And you couldn't help the dementors."
Rose shrugged. She still missed her Nimbus 2000, and the fact that she'd missed the snitch still stung. There were no hard feelings, mind you, but Rose was never one to accept failure well.
She wouldn't miss a snitch again.
"Rose is just sore that her record's broken," Gabriel interjected, apparently awakened by the quidditch talk, "Kind of funny, since she and Ced have become pals, but whatever, they're both weird."
Rose sent a cushion in her pseudo brother's direction, and meanwhile, Sirius enquired about who 'Ced' was.
"Cedric Diggory," Gabriel explained, "Hufflepuff seeker, my best mate, and 'sort of friends' with Rose."
"He visited me after the game," Rose contributed, "We hang out sometimes."
"Once a week, at least," Gabriel confirmed, "I don't know anyone who has ever been so excited to study."
"Godric, you make it sound so dirty," Rose groused, "He helps me with my Arithmency. Maybe if you weren't an idiot, I'd ask you for help."
"Children," Jean warned lightly.
Both silenced, glared at each other, and proceeded to occupy themselves with a war of facial expressions. Eventually, they were both laughing, brief spat forgotten, and instead bickering over which of their respective favourite WWN stations they should play.
Rose liked the mellow, acoustic sounds of a station called 'Unwired', Gabriel liked an alternative rock station called 'Strange', and although both of them shared the same eclectic taste in music, their spats over WWN stations were almost obligatory by that point.
Behind them, Jean swished her wand, and the station changed until all Rose could hear were the unwelcome, and entirely too familiar, tones of Celestina Warbec. Rose groaned, Gabriel did too, and the pair resigned themselves to an evening of appallingly bad innuendos, Alastair's out of tune accompaniment. and a mess of other things.
"It was no surprise, really, because Jean always wound up playing her favourite singer's music, and Christmas Eve - or Yule - was her favourite night to do so. It was something that would never change, and it was almost a comfort to know that.
Behind Rose, Sirius laughed, and Rose acknowledged that not everything would stay the same.
She was, surprisingly, okay with that.
Author's Note: I spent the weekend in Sydney. it's fecking cold there, and the weather patterns are stupid.
In other news, I have an assignment due next week, and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. Yay life.
To my readers, new and not, thanks for your support. It's always encouraging, and I love to read your reviews.
Until next time, -t.